#mobius m. mobius
Short lokius ficlet :) idek when this is supposed to take place, I just wanted to write something
He was just… too nice.
Pleasantries weren’t uncommon on Asgard, especially when Loki was a child. But he hadn’t exactly endeared himself to very many people lately—not Earth, not the Avengers, not his family, certainly not the TVA—and yet Mobius joked with him.
Well. Joking at him may have been a better descriptor. Loki wasn’t very keen on returning the gesture.
“You know,” Mobius said, guiding Loki through a hall, “you seem like a funny type of guy.”
Loki raised a brow. Mobius backtracked.
“Not that that’s a bad thing, we get lots of those, but I figured you’d wanna know that folks around here are a little, y’know,” Mobius gave a thumbs down, “gloomy. Might not be enchanted by your antics.”
“Antics?” Loki inquired, defensive.
“I know you know what I mean. The sarcasm. The self-righteousness. Trying to impress everyone.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You do, actually. I know you do, remember?” Mobius led them through a large door that led to yet another corridor. “The TVA knows everything about you, Loki Laufeyson. And you do, without a doubt, ‘do that’. Don’t worry, I think it’s charming.” He stopped at a door and opened it, revealing a storage space of sorts, gray file cabinets lined up compactly against white and orange walls.
Loki scrunched his nose. Charming? A better adjective than he’d expected. It was a characteristic he may have attributed to himself, yes, but-
“Come on, stop walking so slow.”
Loki realized he’d lagged behind in his daze. He sped up, steps echoing loudly, and offered a remark: “I thought you said that I was the one who loved to talk.”
“You are,” Mobius said. “But you don’t really seem in the mood. Besides, I’m a talkative guy myself.” He pulled a drawer open, looking through numerous files as he spoke.
Loki stared dumbly, not exactly sure what to make of this situation. Too nice. Mobius was too nice. Nicer than most Loki had met in a while. The sentiment felt foreign, and yet the God of Mischief himself allowed it to burrow deep down, nesting in his thoughts, a seed planted.
Charming. He thinks I’m charming.
Mobius found whatever it was he’d been looking for, and Loki promptly pushed down the warm tightness in his chest, resolving to think on it later.
Reblogs appreciated <3
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