Time used to be a commodity that Mobius had in spades, back when things worked different in the TVA. Lately, though, with the fall of the sacred timeline and general new disorder of things - well, Mobius wouldn’t pass up just a few extra minutes to take a breath.
Loki doesn’t seem to mind, seems to thrive on the chaos. Minutemen running around. Time-doors opening and closing here, there, everywhere. Fires cropping up when you least expect it, some of which Mobius suspects Loki might be starting. Their usual research table in the library is a little too out of the way of most things to be a coincidence when it goes up in flames.
Not that Mobius minds seeing Loki in their element, especially with their magic back. They wear mischief like a second skin, along with those clever eyes and that easy smile. Though Mobius just wishes he wasn’t seeing it here at the potential end of all things.
Loki and Mobius are watching the branching trees on the timeline monitor when a report of a new fire comes in. This time in the cafeteria. A vat of salad has spontaneously combusted.
Mobius shoots Loki a flat look.
“What?” Loki asks.
Mobius sighs, but doesn’t have it in him to be mad. Loki’s been like this - a little bit brighter, maybe too bright - since they rejoined Mobius at the TVA. Mobius doesn’t totally understand. Obviously something bad happened out there past the void. But they can’t seem to find two minutes - just two minutes - to talk about it.
Nor what happened after.
Mobius has pieced some of it together: the way Loki fell through the time door, dead on their feet. The weary look they gave Mobius almost like they expected him to say something, he didn’t know what, but something wrong. How when Mobius recognized them, called their name, they pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, even as the library burned around them.
“It’s you,” Loki said then. “It’s finally you.”
“You can’t have salad for lunch everyday,” Loki says now. “Variety is the spice of life.”
“You stole that from a Hallmark card,” Mobius says. Before Loki can reply, he pushes forward, back on task, “We have to focus here. This could be the end of... I don’t know, everything.”
“Everything?”
“Timeline war. Mass annihilation?”
Loki hums. The way you would when your ice cream falls off the cone. Not, perhaps, the most appropriate reaction for the end of all life, past, present, and future.
“Loki.” Mobius turns to them, because while he is enjoying seeing Loki so... Loki, he’s also starting to get a bit concerned. Loki’s not known for being apathetic. Caring too much is sort of their M-O. At least for things worth caring about. Which Loki used to think this was.
“Yes, Mobius?” They continue to watch the screen, where the lines branch and branch and branch, too many now, numbers in the seven-digit mark.
Two minutes. That’s all Mobius would need. It’s all he hasn’t found.
Maybe he should make it.
Mobius places his hand on Loki’s shoulder, drawing their attention. They look at him, see his expression, and their smile dims. Mobius hates that he did that, but...
“This is a big deal. Cataclysmic stuff,” he says.
“Yes. Of course.”
Mobius turns toward them fully. “Don’t take this wrong. It’s great seeing you smile. But you get we’re probably going to die horribly? That’s definitely in the cards for us.”
Loki’s smile returns, but it’s softer. They laugh a little. “Mobius,” they say, and despite the laugh, the name holds a new, heavy weight that Mobius doesn’t understand. “You have no idea how long I have traveled to be here.” They shake their head. “I never thought I’d get here."
Mobius’s throat goes dry. “How long?”
Loki waves a hand. “Time is difficult to track between timelines.”
Timelines. Plural. “How many timelines?”
Loki’s smile vanishes entirely. The veil comes down in their eyes, and Mobius can see the age there. This is his Loki, but older. So much older. And so, so tired.
The thought of his Loki, a lone traveler through time, stakes straight through Mobius’s heart. Loki’s aren’t meant to be alone. They need family, and friends. They need love.
“So you can see why I have found fresh optimism,” they say, “Now that I have found you again.”
Found you. They can’t mean that. Not like that.
Loki looks back to the monitor, but Mobius isn’t done. Two minutes or twenty, to hell with time. This feels the most important now.
It’s selfish and silly, but maybe Mobius wants some of that optimism too.
“Loki, you could have stopped somewhere. I’m sure there’s another timeline that’s close enough -”
“No.”
Mobius swallows hard. Because with Sylvie in the wind and the void out of reach, the only thing in this timeline that Loki might even bother caring about is him.
Mobius knows he’s a smart enough guy, knows a lot about Loki’s, good at piecing things together most of the time. But thinking that Loki might have traveled for eons looking just for him is a bridge too far, no matter how the cards line up.
“There were probably other variants of me,” Mobius says and watches Loki stiffen. Another card in the line. “Maybe more agreeable ones. Prettier ones. Hey, did any have a jetski?”
He says it to get a smile. What he doesn’t expect is the absolute glower that paints Loki’s face, or the way they shift it toward Mobius like they might light him on fire next.
“You cannot be replaced,” Loki says, serious as a heart attack.
“Huh.” Another card falls into place. Mobius thinks of the long line of them, and knows he can’t ignore them anymore. Doesn’t want to. “Careful,” he says, prodding. “A guy might get the wrong idea.”
“Mobius,” Loki says, and they puff themselves up like they might say something more. But then they sigh and look back to the monitor.
Mobius doesn’t think he’s wrong about this, but he’d never push Loki, not in this. So he looks at the monitor too.
More and more branching. Imminent death, certainly.
Beside him, Loki speaks softly, “Is it so terrible a proposal? The idea of you and me?”
“I guess it depends who you ask.” In his chest, Mobius’s heart hammers, but he forces calm cheer to steady his voice. “If you ask me, no. Not terrible. The opposite of that, actually. Great. Fantastic. Amazing. Best idea of your life, and I know you’ve had plenty.” He shrugs. “But like I said, depends who you ask.”
“I...” They clear their throat, and when they speak again, it’s stronger. “I would agree.”
“With which part?” Mobius dares a glance at Loki and finds them staring back.
“All of it.” Their smile returns. “End of all things. Not the best time to start a courtship.”
“I disagree.” Mobius turns toward them. “Sounds like a great first date.”
Loki laughs, and Mobius feels lighter. The optimism is contagious.
Mobius holds out his hand and Loki takes it. They step closer. Closing their eyes, they press their cheek to Mobius’s. They whisper, “I will not be parted from you again.”
Mobius’s chest clenches tightly. “Exactly how many timelines did you go through, Loki?”
“Too many,” Loki says into Mobius’s ear. “But not near half of what I would, to return to you.”
Mobius rests a hand on Loki’s hip. “You must really like this folksy dope.”
Loki hums again, less lost ice cream, more fake consideration for a question you already know the answer to. “I’ll tell you a secret.”
“Please do.”
Loki noses the corner of Mobius’s neck and jaw. Mobius closes his eyes, certain he’s going to like this secret.
Assured, when Loki says, “I love him.”
The timelines continue to branch. They should probably care about that. And they will.
In a minute or two.
But first -
Mobius turns his head toward Loki and Loki kisses him.
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