It’s new to him. The way he’s seeing things, the way he’s feeling now, looking at the city and looking at Loki… very much new. And being there with Loki, no less, was a whole other story that he – more often than not – believed he was unprepared for. At the end of the day, regardless of Loki’s clear development, he was still a God. And Mobius often thought he was in over his head. What could he, a mortal, bring to the table? Why would a God be so keen on keeping him around?

There was no clear definition of what it was that Loki and Mobius were doing… per se. When it came to such things, Mobius was rather clueless and insecure, which was a poignant contrast to Loki who seemed to be accustomed to any type of person. But he had told Mobius that he was not just another person. And Mobius took it to mean something more, something thrilling and with great potential. So he stood by Loki as he was been greeted back into Asgard, many welcoming him with open arms, wide smiles and plenty of touches to go around.

Nobody warned Mobius how ugly jealousy would feel.

It can’t be anything but jealousy. He’s rolling his eyes, puckering his lips, avoids looking at the strangers and at Loki and he feels left behind. Which is quite ironic considering how keen Loki was on keeping him on his side all the way into the city. He has no choice but to sit idly by while Loki receives his welcomes and sigh with upmost displeasure. He starts to question whether he should even feel jealous at all. The Asgardians are only being polite. And Loki… well, he doesn’t belong to Mobius. He belongs to no one. And they certainly have not defined the terms of whatever it was that they were experiencing, therefore it feels kind of futile to feel that way.

But he can’t help it. Jealousy is clawing at his chest, tugging on his heart strings and ultimately eating him alive.

“What’s with the face?”

Loki’s tone is – if Mobius wouldn’t know any better – concerned, which brings him back to Asgard and the gut-wrenching reality.

“What face?” Mobius laughs it off.

“This one.”

Now Mobius aware he’s making a face. He feels his eyes rolling yet again, biting on his inner cheeks and sighing.

“Do you think I’m a blind idiot?” Loki pushes.

“There’s no face, okay? Just mind your business, say your hellos to the overly-touchy crowd and – we’ll call it a day.”

To that, Loki chuckles. He’s flattered, first and foremost, but he is oh-so-charmed by Mobius and his unintentional charm. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what is going on, and while a fraction of Loki is shook, he maintains the playful aura.

“Are you, per chance, jealous?” he asks Mobius, crossing his arms at his chest.

He’s smirking, Mobius remarks. The God of Mischief jumped out and he’s actually smirking at him, filled with delight.

“Why – now why would I be jealous?” Mobius asks in return. “These are your people, your home. It’s – fine.”

“Yes, well, they are not my people. I never really fit in here and I wasn’t truly popular for the right reasons.”

“Then why people are so eager to touch you and have you in their arms is beyond me, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Both share a look as if to say “gotcha”, and Mobius mentally cusses himself out. He sounds so jealous it’s downright ridiculous at this point. He tries to play it off as uninterested when Loki approaches him and opts to fix his tie, staring down on him, but Mobius’ heart is playing tricks on him.

“I don’t enjoy those touches nowhere near as much as I enjoy yours,” Loki whispers to him.

In true playful fashion, Loki smiles at him, his eyes sparkling with all sorts of devilish intentions that have Mobius utterly floored just thinking about them and trying to identify them, but he goes with what’s happening right now before him. And all he knows is that Loki is something else.

Something else he wants to have just to himself.