Monica Ships Lokius

The two of them are co-workers turned work-friends, but they’ve rarely talk about life outside of work. Mobius has seen pictures of Loki’s cats. Loki drove Mobius to his apartment building once when his car wouldn’t start, but declined to go inside.

Loki doesn’t know how to breech the gap between work-friends and friend-friends, or if it would be welcome. Before, with the fear of rejection, they found it best to stick to clear boundaries. 

Yet as the look in Mobius’s eyes shifts from calm to concern, Loki thinks that maybe this time, they should risk it. This problem is too big, and they can’t think of anywhere safer to turn.

Shifting on their chair, Loki reaches into the inside pocket of their jacket and retrieves the white envelope they folded in half to fit. Across the top are a slew of postmaster stamps. They toss it to Mobius.

He catches it, pulls out the card within. “A wedding invitation?”

“My brother’s.” Their estranged brother. Loki hadn’t seen Thor since their father’s funeral five years prior. And that had been the first time since Loki left home at eighteen.

Mobius flips in the card open with both hands, careful with the cardstock even though it’s already bent. “The wedding is this weekend.”

“It was lost in the mail, supposedly. If those stamps are anything to go by.”

Mobius tucks the invitation back into the envelope. “Are you going?”

“I missed the RSVP.” Though Loki knows that wouldn’t matter to Thor. Even at Father’s funeral, with tears in his eyes, Thor had shouted Loki’s name across the room and rushed to embrace them. 

“I missed you,” Thor had said, crushing Loki in a bear hug.

Loki had touched his shoulder, not ready to admit the same, though not able to deny it either. “I’m fine.”

Loki tells Mobius, “He wouldn’t care. He’d want me there, but...” Thor was always good at making friends. Boisterous and friendly, he attracted everyone to him, even those initially predetermined to despise him. He gave trust and friendship easily, and was gifted it in return.

Loki, meanwhile, stood quietly in his shadow, garnering attention only when they did something wrong. 

It had taken Loki several years and hundreds of miles to feel comfortable enough in their own skin without having to compare themself to their brother. The thought of sitting in the same room with Thor’s betrothed, his many friends, and his new family was enough to send Loki spiraling. They felt sixteen again, simultaneously looking up to and despising their brother.

“You don’t have to go,” Mobius says.

Despite everything, Loki loves their brother. “I do.” Thor would forgive them, but how would Loki forgive themself? “I need to be there.”

“Okay.” Mobius cants his head slightly to one side, looking at Loki like they are a puzzle he’s trying to piece together. Then, at once, he solves it. “What if you had a buffer? You know, someone in your corner.”

Loki blinks. The invitation does say Loki and guest. But... “Where would I even find a date this close to the wedding?”

Mobius becomes very interested in the pen on his desk. He picks it up and twists it between his fingers. “I’m sure an attractive person like you would have no problem finding someone willing.”

Maybe. “I doubt a stranger would be helpful, however willing.” Especially if that stranger met Thor. Especially if they preferred him. “You said it yourself. I need someone in my corner. It would have to be someone I trust.” A very short list.

“Well.” Mobius clears his throat. “Would you say that you trust me?”

“You?” Loki’s brain short-circuits. Yes, they trust Mobius. Else they wouldn’t even be having this conversation. But, does that mean that Mobius...? “You would go with me?”

“Of course I would, Loki,” he says so damn earnestly, like it’s no big favor. Like he would put himself out there for Loki every weekend without even thinking about it.

It’s enough to kick Loki’s heart into a rapid pace. When they speak, it’s breathless. “Okay.”

*

Mobius picks Loki up in his gray sedan. They have to drive five hours one way. Loki rented them a hotel room, so they can rest after the evening wedding and drive back in the morning.

“I can drive,” Loki says, not for the first time.

“I like to drive,” Mobius says. Neither mention how Loki’s hands tremble, or how their leg bounces, unable to still.

Mobius is a good man, a good friend.

Handsome, too, whispers a treacherous tiny voice in Loki’s heart. Loki is decidedly not immune to Mobius’s lazy smiles and kind eyes. Or the cut of his suit - he’s replaced brown with black for the wedding. Loki even admires the mustache.

Mobius glances at Loki and catches them looking. “Hey, you,” he says, and it’s so endearing that Loki isn’t even embarrassed at having been caught.

“Hey, yourself.” Loki flashes an answering grin, much sharper than Mobius’s.

Mobius laughs, and it feels like a victory.

“So,” Mobius says later, a couple hours into the trip, after Loki scanned through the radio stations four times with no success and surrendered. “How do you want to play this? Do we need a cover story, or are we telling the truth?”

Loki sits up a bit straighter from where they’d slumped in defeat. Nothing peaks their interest quite like subterfuge. “What are our options?”

“Well, we could just tell everyone we are work friends.”

The idea flips Loki’s stomach inside out. Is that what Mobius considers the truth? Is it the truth?

“That’s if you don’t want them to know we are actually friends,” Mobius says. “Which we are.”

Loki releases the breath they didn’t know they held. 

“Or, we go the other way.” Mobius starts, and Loki inhales too sharp. “I’m your date, right? We could really play that up.”

Loki takes a moment to flip the idea over in their mind, imagining their arm around Mobius’s waist. Mobius’s hand on the side of their neck. Mobius leaning in to whisper in their ear.

Loki swallows hard. “You would do that?”

“No question.” Mobius taps his thumbs against the steering wheel, in time with a commercial jingle. “It would give us reason to be glued together, and cover us if you wanted to duck out early.”

That makes logical sense, Loki decides. Which is the reason, they convince themself, that they say, “Absolutely. Let’s do it.”

Mobius’s smile grows, beaming. “Okay. Okay. How did we meet? We need to get our stories straight.”

“The same way. At work,” Loki says. “The most believable lies are those closest to the truth. We should keep as much the same as possible.”

“Okay. Easy enough.”

Loki agrees, though they suspect, for different reasons. For Loki, it’s no trouble at all to listen to the secret whisper of their heart that fell for Mobius a long time ago.

“How long have we been together?” Mobius asks. “Are we new love or old love?”

“We’ve been pining for years,” Loki decides, maybe too quickly. “But only acted on our feelings recently.”

Mobius opens his mouth. Closes it. He checks the speedometer. His blind spot. Pink dusts his cheeks. Thinking he’s hot, Loki turns up the air conditioner. 

“Yeah,” Mobius says, after a moment. “That sounds great.”

*

The pair park at the hotel, check in and leave their bags in their room. One step into the conference room turned reception hall, Loki hears a familiar shout, “You came!” 

A storm of footsteps and they find themself wrapped up in their brother’s tight embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Thor says, muffled into Loki’s shoulder. When he pulls back, his eyes are damp. He’s not crying yet, but it seems only a matter of time.

Loki blinks back the wetness to their own eyes. They motion toward Mobius, watching quietly beside them. “This is Mobius, my... uh... boyfriend.”

Thor’s eyes go wide, his smile gets bigger. He turns and bear-hugs Mobius too.

“Hey, big guy,” Mobius says. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Thor pulls back and looks over Mobius. “Thank you so much for coming.” He shifts his gaze to Loki. “Both of you. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

Any doubts Loki had about this trip vanish in an instant. “I’m here. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Thor turns sharply and rubs his eye with the back of his wrist. There are those tears.

They show again, later, when Thor and Jane stand under a gazebo in the hotel’s courtyard and exchange vows. Behind them, the sunset paints the sky in rainbow hues. Closer, the mosquitos are eating the guests alive. Loki recognizes a few of them, like Thor’s friends from high school. The ones who never liked Loki. Loki hadn’t cared much for them either.

Something must show on Loki’s face, because Mobius touches their arm, fingers tracing slowly from elbow down to wrist. Then he holds his palm open, an invitation Loki accepts, lacing their fingers together.

Vows exchanged, the guests retreat into the conference room, decorated with pink and yellow streamers and balloons. A DJ has set up in the corner by a wooden dance floor, blasting top hits from two decades ago.

Loki has not let go of Mobius’s hand.

“Dance with me,” Mobius says and pulls Loki closer. “I love this song.”

It’s a terrible song that Mobius can’t possibly love. But even if he does, and Loki suspects that he actually might with how passionately he is singing the lyrics, Loki will take any excuse to wind their arms around Mobius, and feel his arms in return.

Mobius’s hands slot on Loki’s lower back like they were made to be there. Loki, overwhelmed, drops their face into the crook of Mobius’s neck and shoulder to hide their blush.

By the end of the song, Loki admits to themself that, with Mobius’s accompaniment, it might not be so bad after all.

They dance until Thor separates them, wanting to properly introduce Jane to Loki. She’s smart and lovely, and looks at Thor with an admiration Loki’s recognized in plenty of Thor’s previous admirers. The difference, this time, is that Thor gives the same look right back.

As Jane gets pulled away by her bridesmaids for a dance, Mobius excuses himself to get he and Loki some drinks. 

Thor drapes his arm around Loki’s shoulders and says, “I like him.”

“Hm?”

“Mobius,” Thor says. “He really cares about you. It... pleases me to see you so happy.”

Loki’s throat goes dry. “Yes,” they say quietly.

Softer, Thor says, “Mom would have liked him too.”

Tears well again, so hot and fast that Loki feels lightheaded. Their mom had died suddenly when they were in high school, an old wound that never quite healed.

They don’t know what to say, so they say nothing. Eventually, Thor squeezes their shoulder and lets go. He moves onto the dance floor surrounded by his friends, leaving Loki alone by the wall.

The lie festers. Their mom would like Mobius, but Mobius isn’t Loki’s. And Loki isn’t Mobius’s.

Mobius is a friend performing a favor. The easy affection, the hand holding, the dancing is all an act that will end when this night did.

For a moment, Loki imagines themself as invisible. They could slink back and disappear. They’ve bonded with Thor; they could go now. No one would notice. No one would care.

“Hey, you,” Mobius says, appearing at Loki’s side. Bright eyes search Loki’s face. “You okay?”

Loki can’t quite catch their breath.

“I could use some fresh air,” Mobius says. He was holding two flutes of champagne, but he lowers both onto a table. “Want to go for a walk?”

Loki wants to ask him if he’s sure, if he wouldn’t rather go alone, but they can’t find the words. Instead, they nod, because that’s what they really want.

Mobius presses his hand to the small of Loki’s back, a comfort, and leads them to the doors, through the lobby, and out into the parking lot. It’s dark now, the stars shining bright. The pair keep walking until they reach the courtyard, the gazebo.

Mobius stands at Loki’s side, hand moving now, up and down their spine. He waits until Loki can breathe again, then asks, “Okay?”

“Better,” Loki says.

“Good.” Mobius drops his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left you. I was supposed to be in your corner.”

Loki turns toward him. They’re close like this, Loki would only need lean in to kiss him. 

“You did nothing wrong,” Loki says. “The fault is with me.”

Mobius shakes his head, already ramping up to defend Loki.

Loki touches Mobius’s cheek, stopping him. Then they realize what they are doing and start to pull back.

Gently, Mobius catches their hand and returns it to his cheek.

“We’re alone,” Loki whispers, voice lost to heartbreak. “You don’t have to pretend.”

Mobius, voice equally soft, says, “Who’s pretending?”

Loki’s lips part in a tiny, inaudible gasp.

“Tell me it’s not one-sided,” Mobius says.

“It isn’t.” Loki brushes their thumb across the ridge of Mobius’s cheekbone.

Mobius turns into Loki’s hand and kisses their palm. His mustache tickles Loki’s skin. “Loki?”

“Yes, Mobius?”

Next, Mobius presses his lips to Loki’s wrist. Loki shivers.

“I think we should act on our feelings,” Mobius says.

Loki’s already moving, leaning closer. They crowd Mobius into one of the beams of the gazebo, trading kiss after desperate kiss. Loki combs their fingers through Mobius’s hair. Mobius grips at the back of Loki’s jacket.

A year later, they are back in that gazebo, standing before their family and friends. Mobius whispers I love you at every glance between them, and Loki squeezes Mobius’s hands as they trade vows. When they kiss, soft and sweet, married now, the crowd claps politely. Except Thor, who loudly cheers.

Mobius and Loki rest their foreheads together and laugh.

“Hey, you,” Mobius says, brushing his nose to Loki’s.