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Mobius was no idiot.
All the time (or however much of it) he spent at the TVA should have prepared him for variants of all types. And for the most part, he was able to handle nexus events, rogue variants, and everyday problems in stride.
But no amount of research, no amount of preparation, and no amount of deliberation could make Loki what he was not.
And Loki was everything Mobius ever wanted, and yet Mobius knew that meant nothing. Not to him.
Because these acts of seduction? The elusive stare, the amorous shoulder touch? These were moves Loki had used before. Plenty of times, in fact.
The time they had spent together, long after the variant he had recruited Loki on for was captured, made his research pale in comparison. The way he would fixate on a problem and stop at nothing to fix it, the meticulous yet sporadic ideas to prank a fellow coworker, the absolutely heart-wrenching smile she’d shine over to Mobius at selective moments. They was better than the files, greater than any person he’d ever known, and yet followed his habits like it was written into law.
So why wouldn’t his manipulative seduction techniques be any different?
Mobius was no idiot. He knew that Loki itched for an audience with the Time-Keepers, would scramble for a single chance to be in the same room. And if that meant taking advantage of an aged man’s timeless heart in order to get ahead, then why wouldn’t he?
Anyone else might’ve been furious, but Mobius would be ignorant to think otherwise. He knew Loki, researched years and years of his long godly life, and knew what these actions meant.
They were for show.
And TIme-Keepers forbid if Mobius wished they were real.
…
Mobius turned the corner to find Loki passed out at his desk, dark curls sprawled all over clean sheets of paper. He sighed, tapping Loki on the shoulder twice.
“Loki,” Mobius said in a low tone, “Get up.”
Nothing. A moment passed, Mobius running his fingers through the god’s hair vigorously, ruining whatever hairstyle they might’ve put together. “Loki, you’ve gotta stop sleeping at my desk.”
Without any movement, Loki finally responded. “Is there a case?”
“Not at the moment."
“Then it is imperative for me to stay right here, Mobius.” Loki glanced up at Mobius, eyes glazed over. He looked disheveled, vulnerable, two states that Mobius could not fathom why the god allowed him to see them in.
“What is something that could get you away from my desk?” Mobius inquired.
“If we went away from my desk and into your bedroom, that would be splendid.” Loki purred out, sitting up and lounging back into Mobius’ seat.
See, it was these kinds of moments that were tolerable. Mobius could manage the trouble, the sly remark. It was the moments of silence, the whisper in the ear, the intimate moments where Mobius could feel this resolve falter under the false assumption that they could be something more that crushed Mobius in more ways than one.
When had he become so alluded?
Loki continued on. “I can be whoever you want me to be.”
Mobius huffed. What a joke.
I only want you.
“I don’t think you know what I want.” Mobius replied, tightening his own tie.
A small smirk contrasted the shock in his eyes. “I beg to differ.” Loki leaned up in the chair, beginning to stretch out of the chair, holstering himself up to Mobius’ side.
Mobius rolled his eyes, walking away from the situation. “And I beg you to stop your little escapade, the little mirage you’ve been painting lately.”
Loki got the look in his eye, the one that showed up when he was curious about something and would stop at nothing to resolve his questioning. “What mirage?” He implored, on Mobius’ heels as they walked down a hallway.
Mobius didn’t want to fight this battle today.
In fact, he didn’t want to fight this battle anymore. Sure, it was nice to have Loki come to him from all four corners, to initiate and receive lingering touches, to spill words of affection to him and him alone.
But now? The weight of his soul could hold it no longer. His feelings were bursting at the seams, simmering out of the lid.
“Loki, please, do I really need to spell it out?” Mobius lulled, pacing down to the library. “The one where you aren’t using… whatever the hell you’re trying to do, seduce me or something, in order to get an audience with the Time-Keepers.”
Loki stills. Mobius pauses. Was Loki not aware that he knew about this game?
“What, are you shocked that I knew?” Mobius turned to look at Loki. “Again, I’ve studied a lot of your life to know this tactic.” Mobius explained, eyes trailing to Loki’s expression.
He couldn’t read it.
Mobius, a man who spent a long time reading about this person’s life, could not read their expression.
It was laced with sincerity; Mobius knew that look. It was the one they had given his mother, his father in earlier moments, his brother during his later years. But it held something else Mobius couldn’t put his finger on. Anger? Confusion? Those emotions on Loki’s face Mobius knew all too well, and this wasn’t one of them.
A small voice settled on Loki’s lips. “Is that how little you think of this?”
That was not the question he expected.
“Loki,” Mobius put a hand on Loki’s arm, looking up at him with sincerity. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ve been trying to get you an audience with the Time-Keepers for a while now. Getting real close to it. You don’t have to go along with the seduction route any longer.”
Though it was nice while it lasted.
Loki stared down at Mobius in disbelief. A smile should’ve been on their face.
Isn’t this better for Loki?
“You mean to tell me that you don’t feel the least bit attracted to me?” Loki asked incredulously. “Have I been reading the signs wrong?”
No, he had been reading the signs perfectly fine. Mobius was the one afraid of reading the signs wrong.
“You’re quite the catch,” Mobius offered instead, unable to lie to Loki, “But I’d prefer a willing partner instead of one under command.”
Loki scoffed. “The only person I follow is myself.”
“And yourself follows your desires,” Mobius rebutted, “And your desires follow your goals. And if anything, including your feelings, don’t align with your goal, you cast them aside. You always hide your true feelings. You don’t think there’s any use for them.”
There’s a pause that Mobius does not care to read into, another expression on Loki’s face that will settle into his memory.
“Which means that you, assumingly being attracted to me, has to have a goal behind it.”
Loki was silent. Mobius was crushed.
It didn’t want to to be true, somewhere inside, and yet he had known the answer all along.
What an idiot.
“Okay then,” Loki started again, “I have to have a goal. And you’re right, I do.” Loki flinches slightly, casting their eyes to the side before resuming eye contact with Mobius. “My goal is for me to get together with you.”
Mobius sighed. “Because?”
“Because I believe, somehow, that I…” They swallow, unnerved, “Have began to develop unwanted, foreign, conflicting feelings towards you.”
Mobius raised an eyebrow. “You like me?” He questioned, heart singing at hearing those words. Giving hope to a hopeless man was never a good idea.
Loki gave no response. Simply nodded, leaning his head towards the side.
And in that moment, Mobius’ walls folded. He couldn’t contain his composure any longer. Mobius surged his lips towards the god’s, and if it was everything he had wanted it to be, curse him.
If this was part of the seduction plan, Mobius was hook, line, and sinker. And he didn’t want to believe it, but it really could be all the more.
But Mobius was willing to fall if it meant catching a single moment with Loki.
He’d worry about the repercussions later.
Like an idiot.