Those Golden and Molten eyes
Nick Fury's voice roared through the phone, sharp, commanding, and carrying that signature I-don't-have-time-for-your-bullshit energy.
"There's been a power surge. Massive. Unlike anything we've seen before. Earth might be in danger. You need to check it out. Now."
Tony sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.
"Yeah? Well, you know what else is massive?" Tony paused at that, "No pun intended. My exhaustion! I saved the damn universe, Fury. That's gotta earn me some vacation time."
"You can rest when you're dead, Stark. Which might be sooner than later if you don't move your ass."
The line went dead.
Tony groaned, tossing the phone onto the couch as he leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
So much for a break.
Honestly, he still didn't know how he was here. One second, he had snapped his fingers, fully expecting—no, accepting—that he was about to die. The next? Green mist curled around his hand like living smoke, swallowing up Thanos and his army until they vanished, wiped from existence as if they had never even been there.
And then Natasha—
Natasha had appeared.
Not a memory. Not a hallucination brought on by oxygen deprivation. Her. Flesh and blood. Real. Stumbling to her feet, looking just as shocked as he was. Green energy had flickered around her for a moment before fading, leaving behind nothing but her wide-eyed confusion.
Green magic.
That part still nagged at him. He should've looked into it, should've tried to figure out what the hell had happened. But he hadn't. Because, well—she was here. She was alive. That was what mattered, right?
He pushed himself up with a groan, rolling his stiff shoulders as he caught his reflection in the mirror.
Jesus. His eye bags had eye bags. If exhaustion was an Olympic sport, he'd have a gold medal and his face on a Wheaties box.
"F.R.I.D.A.Y, where's this so-called world-ending energy spike coming from?"
"Approximately four miles from here, sir. Near the beach."
Tony clicked his tongue. "Oh, great. Because the last time I was near a beach, I was getting stabbed in space. Love that for me."
He grabbed his sunglasses, shoving them onto his face as he let out another heavy sigh.
"Let me guess—this is another cosmic overlord who wants to redecorate Earth by splitting it in half, right? Maybe one of Thanos' cousins? You'd think after getting dusted, they'd take the hint."
"Unclear, sir. But the energy readings are highly unstable."
Unstable. That was never a good sign.
Tony clenched his jaw. A part of him wanted to ignore this. Let someone else deal with it. He had already done his part, hadn't he? Snapped his fingers, saved the universe, and almost died—he deserved a damn break.
But that wasn't how it worked. Not for him.
Because if something was out there—something powerful enough to make Fury panic—he had to face it.
He flexed his fingers, shaking out the stiffness as he headed toward his suit. The familiar hum of nanotech rippled over his skin, forming the red and gold armor in a fluid motion.
"Alright," he muttered to himself. "Let's see what fresh hell the universe has cooked up for me this time."
The helmet snapped into place, and with a burst of repulsors, he was off.
Because no matter how much he wanted to stop—no matter how tired he was—Iron Man had work to do.
"Mobius..." Loki muttered to himself as the time door sealed shut behind him with a golden shimmer.
The warm scent of salt and sand filled his lungs. The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting long shadows across the shore. Waves lapped against the beach, their rhythmic movement strangely calming. And just ahead, working intently on some... water machine—one of Midgard's peculiar contraptions—stood a man Loki knew well.
A familiar presence.
Mobius.
He was hunched over a jetski—yes, that's what they were called. Loki had heard him speak about them enough times. The machine gleamed under the sunlight, though Mobius was more focused on its inner workings than admiring its aesthetic. There was something almost tender about the way he worked, carefully adjusting something near the engine, completely unaware of the god watching him.
Loki took a slow step forward. Then another. A smirk curled his lips as he studied the scene before him. Peaceful. Simple. A life Mobius had built for himself here. Yet, behind that peace, there was something else. A quiet loneliness.
Loki's smirk deepened.
With a flicker of movement, he vanished in a shimmer of green and reappeared directly behind the unsuspecting man.
"What a boring hobby you have chosen, Mobius. How the mighty have fallen."
The words slithered out with unmistakable amusement, and for a fraction of a second, Mobius remained frozen in place, his fingers still gripping the jetski. Then, as though fearing it was all a cruel trick of his mind, he turned slowly, cautiously—until their eyes met.
Loki had expected a reaction, perhaps a witty remark, maybe even a teasing scold, but what he did not expect was the sheer disbelief in Mobius's eyes. Wide. Almost hesitant. As if afraid to hope.
"Loki?"
It was barely a whisper, uncertain, fragile.
Loki tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more genuine. "Yes, indeed, my name is Loki."
He hadn't even finished the sentence before Mobius moved—fast, without hesitation, arms wrapping around him in a firm, warm embrace.
For a moment, Loki stiffened. But then, against all odds, he found himself sinking into it. A quiet exhale left him as he returned the gesture, gripping the back of Mobius's shirt, fingers curling slightly.
He did not know how long they stayed like that, nor did he care.
Mobius was the first to pull away, but not too far, his hands still lingering on Loki's shoulders as if making sure he was real. "How the hell are you here?" he asked, eyes scanning Loki as though expecting him to disappear. "I was told the device to retrieve you would take months to be ready."
Loki gave him a knowing grin, stepping back with a small flourish of his hand. "Ah, you should ask Sylvie about that. What can I say? She is a Loki variant, just like me—mischievous."
Mobius sighed, but there was no real frustration behind it. "Of course she is." His lips twitched into a small, crooked smile.
For a moment, there was silence. The waves filled the space between them, gentle yet unrelenting, much like time itself.
Then, as if remembering something, Loki tilted his head. "I've heard you were 'moping' in this timeline. Why is that?"
Mobius chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Moping? Sylvie said that, didn't she?"
Loki merely raised a brow, expectant.
Mobius let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair before gesturing vaguely. "Come on, let's talk inside."
Inside.
Loki blinked, intrigued by the implication.
Mobius had a home here.
That realization sent a strange feeling curling in Loki's chest.
The inside of the house was small but cozy. Sunlight streamed through large windows, illuminating wooden furniture and shelves stacked with books and trinkets—some clearly from Midgard, others from places Loki could not immediately recognize. There was an ease to the space, an unspoken comfort. It was a home lived in. A place Mobius had chosen for himself.
Loki took it all in as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. "I must say, I did not expect you to settle down, Mobius. A house by the sea, a jetski—living the dream, are we?"
Mobius smirked as he grabbed two glasses, pouring something amber-colored into them. "Well, you know me. Always full of surprises."
Loki hummed, taking the offered glass but not drinking yet. He studied Mobius closely now, his gaze sharp. "And yet, I suspect it is not all as perfect as it seems. If it were, Sylvie would not have described you as... what was it? Moping?"
Mobius sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He sat down, motioning for Loki to do the same.
"I guess..." He exhaled through his nose, thoughtful. "I guess after everything at the TVA, after losing all that, I just—" He gestured vaguely, searching for the right words. "I don't know. I thought maybe this would be... simpler. But turns out, no matter where you go, you still end up with time to think."
Loki was quiet for a moment before he set his glass down, leaning forward slightly. "And what is it that you think about?"
Mobius smiled, but it was different now—small, a little sad. "You, mostly."
Loki felt something tighten in his chest. His heart had skipped a beat, which was unusual.
Mobius continued, voice softer. "Wondering if we made the right choice. If it was worth it. If you were okay." He met Loki's gaze then, something unspoken passing between them.
Loki exhaled slowly. "I am here now."
Mobius chuckled. "Yeah, you are."
As he said those words, in what felt like forever, the weight of time did not feel so heavy.
Tony let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand down his face as he stared out at the seemingly endless stretch of sand before him. Waves rolled lazily onto the shore, the salty breeze tugging at his clothes. But aside from the occasional cry of a seagull and the distant hum of the ocean, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"Fri, you're sure this is the place?" His patience was running thin, and honestly, he had better things to do than chase wild goose hunts based on faulty readings.
"Yes, I am sure this is the place, sir," F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied, her voice even as ever.
Tony huffed, glancing around again. The sun cast a golden glow over the beach, highlighting every grain of sand, every ripple in the water, every—well, every useless thing. The beach was empty, nothing was there.
"Connect me to Fury," he muttered, already dreading the conversation. "Need to take it out on him."
F.R.I.D.A.Y. responded instantly, and within seconds, the call connected.
"There's nothing here! Nothing!" Tony snapped the moment Fury picked up. "Did you double-check the power strike? Because I'm pretty damn sure I just wasted my time coming out here to stare at the dirt. I mean, come on, all I see is sand and—" He squinted, his gaze catching on something further down the beach. "And a jet ski. Wow. Yeah, I'm sure that's the culprit. The jetski caused the power strike. Case closed." He rolled his eyes. "Because there's nothing else here!"
On the other end of the line, Fury sighed—the kind of sigh that Tony knew meant the man was pinching the bridge of his nose, mentally counting to ten to keep himself from saying something that would make them both enemies for life.
"What do you mean there's nothing there?" Fury's voice was sharp, clipped, laced with the kind of irritation that said he knew something Tony didn't. "That kind of energy doesn't just disappear, Stark, and you know it."
Tony groaned, rubbing his temples. "Yeah? Well, guess what? It must've grown legs and walked off because I don't see a damn thing. And you know what? I'm out. Clearly, someone in your tech department needs to go back to basic training, because there's no way that reading was right." He turned on his heel, already making his way back toward his car. "Check it again."
There was a beat of silence. Then, in the background, Tony heard Fury muttering something to someone, his voice low, impatient.
And then—
"What do you mean it's gone?"
Tony stopped mid-step, brows furrowing. Of course, the reading was wrong.
Oh, for god's sake.
Mobius and Loki settled into the cozy warmth of Mobius' living room. It was the kind of space that felt like it had always existed in harmony with the world around it—calming, inviting. The room had soft browns, golden accents, and the rich colors of the beach: sandy hues, amber, and the deep blues of the ocean just outside. The walls were lined with wood that seemed to glow under the soft light, and the space was filled with pieces that were simple yet elegant—everything had a place, but nothing felt too showy. It was a home, not just a house, and Loki felt that in a way he didn’t expect.
Mobius leaned back in his chair, one arm resting casually over the back, and studied Loki with a calm curiosity. “So, big guy, how’re you feeling?”
Loki let out a small sigh, taking a moment to consider the question. The words didn’t come easily, but there was something about Mobius’ tone—genuine, unguarded—that made it easier. “I’m… alright, I suppose,” Loki replied, his voice thoughtful, the weariness of his journey clear beneath the calm facade. “Though I am still quite weak. My body’s adjusting to time, you could say.” He shrugged lightly, trying to downplay it, but his words were honest that he rarely allowed himself.
Mobius nodded, his face softening with understanding. He reached for his glass, casually tipping it to his lips and finishing it off in one smooth motion before setting it down on the coffee table. “Yeah, I figured,” Mobius said, his voice light but with an undercurrent of something more—something that felt supportive. “But I’m glad you’re here. Really.” He paused, then added, “I mean it.”
Loki glanced at him, a hint of something stirring in his chest. It was strange, the way Mobius spoke to him—like he actually mattered like he wasn’t just some tool or object like he was... seen. In a world full of endless timelines and lies, that feeling was rare, and it unsettled Loki in the most unexpected way.
Mobius smiled at him then, his usual teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Told ya you could be someone good if you tried,” he said, that playful glint in his eye. “And I’m never wrong.”
Loki raised an eyebrow, letting out a soft chuckle despite himself. “I suppose you’re right about that,” he said, his voice laced with a mix of sarcasm and something warmer, something more genuine. “You do have a knack for being right.”
Mobius chuckled, the sound easy and natural, and Loki couldn’t help but feel a small shift in his chest, a warmth that he didn’t know how to name. It was... nice. The way Mobius made him feel, not like the god of mischief or the prince of lies, but just Loki—flawed, uncertain, and real.
“I guess you’ve grown on me then,” Loki said after a beat, his voice quieter than usual. The words were soft, almost unintentional, but they held truth. There was no denying it anymore.
Mobius looked at him for a moment, a genuine smile crossing his face, and Loki could see something in his eyes. It wasn’t just the usual teasing glint—it was something deeper, something that made Loki’s heart skip just a little. “The feeling’s mutual,” Mobius said simply. His tone was steady, and calm, like he was stating a fact, not just offering a casual remark.
For the first time in his life, Loki felt like an equal. Not above anyone, not beneath anyone, but simply one of them. For all his life, he had been caught in the power struggle, for control, for attention. But here, in Mobius’ living room—surrounded by the soft golden light and the warmth of this simple, peaceful space—Loki felt grounded in a way he had never known before.
It was a small shift, a quiet realization, but it felt big. He didn’t have to be the god of mischief. He didn’t have to carry the weight of a throne or the burden of his past. He could just be Loki, and that was enough.
He exhaled slowly, letting the weight in his chest lift just a little. “I could get used to this,” he said softly, meeting Mobius’ gaze with a sly smile as if he already made himself at home.
Mobius leaned back, clearly content with the moment. “I think you already have,” he said, the simplicity of the words speaking volumes.
And at that moment, with the soft sound of the ocean just outside and the warmth of the room surrounding them, Loki knew Mobius was right. For the first time, he wasn’t just surviving. He was beginning to live again.
"You with dark curls, you with the watercolor eyes
You who bares all your teeth in every smile
He says, "I can always hear you sing, I wanna hear you speak to me"
While a stranger braids my hair back out on the street
And in your dreams, we are shooting snakes
And while you were asleep, I was surely awake"
- Dark Arkansas Daughter by Lady Lamb