Chapter 5
Colossus had been taking Domino and Russell out for a trainee mission when Wade’s surprise birthday party (and kidnapping) had taken place, and had been horrified upon hearing that they’d missed it. And maybe also that Wade’s street had been blown to shreds.
“That is awful!” Colossus said over the phone. Wade didn’t know how he’d gotten the number, but he suspected it had something to do with Domino laughing in the background. “What sort of fight? Is everyone okay? Did — Neena, what on earth is that?” A scuffling noise. “Wade, why is there a video of a hundred Deadpools on the news?”
“It’s a bit of a long story,” he said, through a mouthful of shawarma, feeding pieces to Mary Puppins as she sat in his lap. Shawarma places were always open no matter what, and he’d managed to secure a table for him, Logan, the precious child, and their small band of battered and exhausted misfits. A bunch of TVA hunters were still on cleanup duty in the street, but Mobius had been released along with Sylvie due to emotional distress, along with getting shot. He was currently bent over an untouched lamb wrap, chin balanced on his fist, eyes a million miles away. Wade had almost interrogated him for the details of exactly what had led up to him making out with a tall, dark-haired god in the middle of a battle, but even he could tell that Mobius was in no shape to gossip right now. Sylvie sat next to him, her knives on the table, scarfing down falafel and looking as though she hadn’t slept in days. Elektra, Blade, and Gambit all looked fine, amiably chatting about Wade’s universe and comparing it to theirs. Laura had fallen asleep against the table fifteen minutes ago. Wade pretended not to notice as Logan pulled a jacket over her shoulders, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Look, if you want to stop by my place tonight and hear it, I’ve got a currently homeless Cajun guy who’s damn near incomprehensible, but he’s a chef.”
“Eh.” Remy’s lips turned down. “I’m not a chef, not really. I can cook, but —”
“Yeah, okay, Ratatouille.” Wade shot him a polite smile. “Hey, Piotr — if you’ve got any spare rooms in that mansion — which I know you do — would you be willing to take on five freeloaders? Al and I only have one pullout couch.”
“Hm.” Colossus made a tch sound. “We are not a homeless shelter, Wade, the X-Men —”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should be,” he grumbled, scratching Mary Puppins’ ears as she snuffled at his fries. “Just come over tonight and meet them, okay? Invite Russ and Domino, too.”
Colossus was silent for a moment, before eventually sighing. “Fine. We will bring your birthday present.”
“Aw!” Wade’s day immediately got better. “That’s so sweet, you didn’t have to!”
“Russell wanted to bring you a gun,” he muttered. “Trust me, I did.”
That invitation somehow spawned a whole goddamn party. No sooner had Wade gotten everyone back to his apartment than the infamous Negasonic Teenage Warhead strolled through the door, dropping several bags of groceries in front of Gambit. Negasonic proceeded to plug her phone into his speaker system and blast a mix of Green Day and My Chemical Romance through the walls. She remained silent until Laura, who’d been relatively timid up to that point, asked her what the music was. Negasonic’s eyes went wide, and she immediately started berating Logan for never introducing his kid to either band. Logan had been too stunned by her immediate assumption that he was Laura’s father to argue, and Laura had glanced down at the placemats with a smile on her face.
Remy and Blade were in the kitchen, and it seemed that if one thing could throw the infamous Eric Brooks off, it was serving as sous chef to a man from New Orleans. Despite Remy’s insistence that he wasn’t a chef, he was talking rapid shit about the seafood boil Wade had found in an old Food Network magazine as he prepared the shrimp. Al had dragged a chair over to egg him on in her own way, and Eric had been relegated to chopping vegetables. Elektra breezed through every once in a while to laugh at what they were doing, and after a few minutes of fidgeting with a broom, Sylvie joined in on annoying them.
Mobius had been wiping down the coffee table for the past fifteen minutes, turning that bullet over in his fingers.
Wade, who’d just been released from Al’s insistence that he tidy up his room and let Vanessa and Peter know that they were having a party, decided to release Mobius from that particular time loop.
“Hey, Owen,” he said, causing Mobius to nearly jump out of his skin. Wade gave him a tight grin. “That table’s never looked so good.”
“Oh.” Mobius awkwardly lifted the cloth, blinking. A look passed over his face, and he shook his head with a light chuckle. “Sorry. Do you, uh . . . need me to clean something else?”
Wade peeked at the slug in his hand. It was a nine millimeter, scorched around the edges from the gun chamber, but didn't show any impact marks. “That's the bullet that hit you, right?”
Mobius glanced down at it. He nodded.
Wade rocked back onto his heels. He was absolute shit at conversations like this, but Mobius obviously needed to talk about it, at least to some extent. Wade cleared his throat. “He's coming back, right? Your, uh . . . ‘guy at the top’?”
“Yep,” Mobius answered, but his voice was strained with nerves. Wade guessed that the reason wasn’t a lack of faith, but a question of how long, and under what conditions.
“Right.” Wade nodded. “Well, until he shows up, there's nothing you can do about it.”
Mobius blinked. “Sorry?”
“Worrying isn't going to make him come back any faster,” Wade said, and then felt very proud of that statement. He almost sounded like someone who knew how to manage relationships. “Stop torturing yourself, okay?”
Mobius slowly raised an eyebrow. “Are you giving me advice, Wade?”
“I know, right? Never tell my agent, I’ll be out of a job.” Wade pointed to the kitchen, where Blade was looking closer and closer to using that knife on something other than potatoes. “How about you go and relieve Eric of vegetable duties? Something tells me you can actually cook, at least to Remy’s standards.”
Real humor crossed Mobius’s face at that, and he slid the bullet into his pocket. “I could once, you know.” He shrugged, and started off towards the kitchen. “Worth a shot.”
Wade picked up the cloth, feeling a bit lighter as Mobius leaned over Eric’s shoulder. The tense look in Sylvie’s eyes eased a bit, only to be joined with delight when Mobius handed her a paring knife. Nothing occupied a restless mind like a nice, repetitive task. Wade would know.
“Are we allowed to smoke weed?” Al asked, tottering out from the kitchen and waving her cane like a metal detector. She’d been trying to find his stash for weeks. “That Colossus man gives me a headache.”
“Oh, my God.” Wade forced a smile as Negasonic glanced over with an intrigued look on her face. “Al, how about you go tell our teenage friends about that time you played tennis with tear gas in the seventies?”
Laura glanced up from across the room, where she’d been shoving loose papers and snail mail under the couch cushions. “You did what?”
Negasonic smacked the gum she’d been chewing. “Is that how you became blind?”
“I was born blind, you little punk,” Al grumbled, but sat down on the couch. Papers crinkled as she did, and she straightened. “The hell’s under here?”
“Nothing important,” Wade answered immediately, carefully watching Laura’s face to see if she was about to contradict him. Maybe she hadn’t found the little Ziploc bag — oh, no. She was side eyeing him, a glint in her eyes as she mouthed, Cookies.
Wade didn’t know whether to be annoyed or proud that this girl had already mastered the art of blackmail. He decided on ‘proud’.
“Logan!” He strolled over to where man was discreetly rooting through his living room mini fridge for beer, trying very hard not to think about what the Wolverine looked like with his shirt off. Logan straightened, looking at him with those fucking eyes that might as well dissolve Wade on the spot, and he failed miserably. Wade forced a smile, digging his wallet out from the jeans he’d thrown on after getting back (he had a Chappell Roan shirt on too, he wasn’t about to subject the kids to his naked chest) and handed Logan a twenty. “Your kid found my happy leaves, and now she wants cookies. Mind making a run?”
“Ah.” He glanced over at Laura, whose wide eyes were fixed on Al, and smiled softly.
“There’s a corner store just down the block,” Wade continued. Logan had borrowed some clothes from Wade’s closet, and he couldn’t help sneaking a glance at the way that plaid flannel stretched over Logan’s chest. “There’s, uh — cigars there, too. If you want to buy some for yourself.”
Logan looked back at him, and Wade pretended he was fine. The man’s lips twitched slightly, and — was it just his imagination, or did those eyes flick towards his mouth? Probably, because Logan was folding up the bill and sliding it into the pocket of the suit pants he was still wearing.
“Thanks, bub.” Logan walked out, and Wade seriously considered putting his head through the nearest wall.
“You gonna follow through on our deal?” called a soft, subtly devious voice from the kitchen.
“I will throw myself out the window,” Wade announced, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Move over, Lightning McQueen. I’m taking your job.”
If Loki was one thing, he was a pile of fucking nerves.
Cassandra Nova’s actions had caused the tree to freak out. It had been a fraying, undulating mess of timelines when Loki got back to it, spooked at the close shave with destruction. Once it was in a more stable state, at least, stable enough for him to leave for a short period, he came right back.
The TVA had done a good job cleaning up the street. Some storefronts were still scorched with bullet holes, and Loki doubted the subway station would ever be the same, but it didn’t look any more war-worn than the rest of downtown.
He’d stepped onto the sidewalk outside the apartment, his stomach twisting itself into knots. Fear was creeping through his bones like sickness in a plant, and he walked into a nearby corner store just to have something to do.
The bell jingled behind him as he closed the glass door, ducking into the nearest aisle. It was a small shop, lit by glaring fluorescents that cast everything into a harsh brightness. Loki made his way to the freezer section, his eyes skimming over the selection of desserts with quick efficiency until he found what he was looking for.
Fifteen dollars: not a bad price. He paid with illusory money, felt a bit bad about it, then promised himself he’d convince the tree to grow in a direction that benefited the old shopkeeper behind the counter. Loki walked out with a paper bag in one hand, stopping dead at the sight of a familiar silhouette on the sidewalk.
Logan was leaning against the wall of the apartment complex, half-lit by a nearby streetlamp. His eyes glowed from the cinders of his cigar.
“Didn’t think I’d be seein’ you again so soon,” he grunted. Smoke poured from his mouth.
Loki raised an eyebrow. “What made you think that?”
Logan shrugged. “Pretty serious damage done to the tree, I’d imagine.”
“Not as bad as you’d think.” Loki glanced up at the darkening sky. The sun had set just a few moments ago, and stars were slowly beginning to appear beyond the rooftops. “We were lucky. No timelines were destroyed, but this one did come close.” He looked at Logan. “You saved us. You and Wade.”
Logan grunted. “They’re throwin’ a party right now. Everyone’s up there.” His gaze lingered on Loki. “They’d love to see you.”
Loki’s heart wrenched.
Oh, Norns.
In some harsh, twisted way, it’d been easier when all they’d had was just that moment. Now that they were back in the real world, with the tree calling to him all the time, billions of timelines all demanding his attention . . . how long would it take, before they could be together without him having to rush off at a moment’s notice?
“Aw, shit,” Logan grumbled. His shoulders tensed awkwardly, and his eyes darted around the street as if hoping a licensed therapist would appear out of thin air. When no one did, he let out a rough sigh. “Alright. What’s bothering you?” He waved his cigar in the direction of the apartment complex, to a glowing window upstairs that rippled with moving shadows. “Is it him? You gettin’ cold feet or some shit?”
“No,” Loki said, shaking his head. “No, I just —” He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure how . . . how exactly it’s going to work.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, a silent prompt for elaboration.
“I — I don’t even know if we’ll be able to have a future,” Loki continued, fingering the sleeve of his dress shirt. “And I — I want to try, but I just don’t know. It could take years before I’m able to — to be with him, the way I want to.” He took a shaky breath. “I just don’t want to hurt him. A few months ago, I — I left him. I abandoned him, and now I've done it again.” Loki ran a hand through his hair, blinking fiercely. “I won't — I won't be able to be with him, at least not in the way I want to. Not yet. I don’t know if he’ll even want it, if —”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Logan groaned. “You’re just gettin’ in your head about it. Stop thinking so much.”
Loki stared pointedly at the sidewalk. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ve seen this shit before,” he grumbled, tapping ash off his cigar. “Watched it for twenty fuckin’ years. They couldn’t be more different from you two, but you’re the same in so many ways. Stubborn, self-sacrificing, pining after each other like lovesick teenagers but unable to close that gap . . . .” He shook his head. “At least your man’s still alive. When Erik lost his, he tore the whole world apart. I didn’t have the heart to stop him.”
“I know,” Loki murmured. He was still staring at the sidewalk, but his focus was no longer on the buildup of moss on the curb.
“Point is,” Logan grunted, taking a puff. “Get off your ass. You’ll figure it out together.”
Loki’s lips twitched. “Are you planning on giving Wade a similar speech? About Vanessa?”
Now, it was the other man’s turn to look away.
“I’ll make you a deal, Logan.” Loki turned, leaning against the wall and smiling softly. “You talk to yours, I’ll talk to mine.”
“He’s not mine,” Logan muttered, his eyes glassy.
“Have you seen the way he acts around you?”
“He’s like that with everyone.”
“You’re telling that to the god who’s watched his entire life play out.”
Smoke blew from the other man’s mouth. “Remind me why I’m wasting my time talkin’ to you?”
Loki chuckled. “You’re a good man, Logan. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
“Yeah, well.” Logan’s eyes glinted in the light of the streetlamp. “I don’t believe in gods.”
He smiled faintly. “Sometimes, neither do I.”
Logan turned the cigar over in his fingers, his lips pursed and his eyes faraway. At last, he said, “So, how much time do you have?”
“Right now?” Loki glanced up at the building, the rows of glowing windows. “An hour. Maybe two.”
He snuffed the cigar out on the wall, giving Loki a pointed look. “Let’s not waste time, then.”
They climbed up the creaking stairs to Wade’s apartment, which he shared with Blind Al. Loki knew for a fact that it had, in addition to Al’s room, a queen size bed and a guest bedroom, just right for a teenager about Laura’s age. He decided not to share this with Logan just yet.
Sylvie was the one to open the door, talking to someone over her shoulder. “Deal me in, Remy, I’ll kick your —” Her gaze landed on Loki, and her face broke into a grin.
Loki smiled back, holding up the bag. “We brought dessert.”
“Thank fuck,” she snorted, stepping back to let them in. Her eyes sparkled. “Wade’s only got a few moldy Creamsicles.”
The apartment was full of warm light, music, the smell of spiced food, and people laughing in a mix of genial chaos. Vanessa Carlysle was moving through it all with a bowl of pizza rolls, gossipping loudly with Domino and a South Asian man Loki didn’t recognize, occasionally shooting Wade dramatic looks and sending him diving for cover behind the nearest piece of furniture. Gambit — Remy had taken off his helmet and coat, rolling up his sleeves to deal out poker to Blade, Elektra, a stout Polynesian boy, and the girl who called herself Negasonic Teenage Warhead. An enormous man made of metal — Colossus, undoubtedly — was sitting on the couch, passionately commentating the hockey match on TV as Yukio looked on in confusion. A mustachioed man Loki faintly recognized as Peter was reclined in the nearest armchair, laughing occasionally. Madonna crooned from a speaker next to the window, underlying the mix of conversation and laughter.
It reminded him of parties after battles back in Asgard, drinking contests and songs of glorious feats and loud bragging, but here — here they’d almost lost everything. The mood in Wade’s apartment wasn’t one of drunken revelry, but a joyous seizing of every moment, an appreciation and gratitude for each breath taken. Relief floated through the air like weight risen off of everyone’s shoulders, leaving them free to talk and laugh and process what they’d lived through.
Loki let out a slow breath, a smile twitching at his lips. He’d never felt quite at home in those rowdy feast halls.
Logan, however, was tense next to him. Loki glanced over, and saw that the man had gone still at the sight of who was sitting on the couch.
Colossus glanced away from the television for a moment, his brow furrowing at Logan. “Hello. Sorry — do I know you?”
“Nope,” Logan choked out, his eyes passing over Colossus, and coming to a dead stop on Yukio.
“Hi!” the girl said, wiggling her fingers at him. “I’m Yukio, nice to meet you!”
Logan looked like he’d been smacked across the face. Something rippled in his eyes as he stared at her, like fish passing under the surface of a lake. Loki glanced between the two of them, and faintly remembered something he’d seen in the pasts of many Wolverines: a girl, usually with colored hair, tears spilling from her eyes. Sometimes, she was in the driver’s seat of a car. Sometimes, she was kneeling next to Laura and hugging her as the other girl screamed with grief. In a timeline Loki thought was this Logan’s, a Yukio very much like the one before them had lain in the rubble of a bombed-out mansion, her chest rattling with one last breath, her head resting in Logan’s arms as he sobbed.
A hand clapped on Loki’s shoulder, and he blinked away the vision. Wade had popped out of nowhere, quickly moving on to elbow Logan in the ribs. At Wade’s touch, the other man seemed to shake himself out of his trance. He cleared his throat, squaring his shoulders slightly, and inclined his head. “Uh — hi. I’m Logan.”
Loki glanced between the two of them, the vision of Logan’s past lingering in his mind. Yukio leaned over to grab a pizza roll as Vanessa passed by, either oblivious or too considerate to mention the man’s reaction.
Wade, however, wasn’t. He leaned over, his brow furrowed in what could only be worry, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “You knew her? In your timeline?”
“Yup,” Logan muttered, looking faintly sick. “Last I saw her, she was . . . not alive.”
“Oh.” Wade’s eyes widened with horror, and he began to guide them away from the couch. “Oh my God.” He glanced over at Yukio, who was happily munching on pizza rolls, and his voice remained low. “That is never going to happen. Never. You hear me? You, um — if you’re really worried, tell Ellie. She’s her girlfriend. She’ll kill a man. I would also kill a man. Just give us names.”
The tension in Logan’s face eased slightly at Wade’s rambling, and the way he was looking at the man made Loki feel like he was watching a rom-com.
“Hey.” Laura appeared out of nowhere, lightly bumping her shoulder against Logan’s. The brief touch seemed to ease him the rest of the way out of his trance. “Remy’s dealing out poker, want to join?”
“Yeah.” He exhaled, a smile flickering across his face. “Sure, kid.”
The dining room table had been cleared for Remy to spread his cards, a smirk curling across his face as he flicked them out. The stout Polynesian boy glanced around when he saw Wade, his face breaking into a grin. Wade gasped and rushed forward.
“I'm sorry, are you teaching Russell to play poker?” He put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, squinting at Remy like a suburban mother. “Without me?”
“I’m never dealing for one of you again,” Remy answered, smiling as he slid two cards across the table to Russell. “Every incarnation of you plays dirty as a mothahfucker.”
Wade rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like you won't blow up a good hand the second it isn't yours —”
Logan’s brow furrowed as he sat down next to Laura, picking up his cards. “Remy, is the food done already?”
“Eh.” He waved a hand in the air. “Crazy man’s in there. He’s a good enough cook.”
Loki’s heart skipped a beat. Logan gave him a wry, knowing glance, and Loki cleared his throat. “Er, I — I’d better get this in the freezer.”
“Mm, yes.” Sylvie nodded emphatically, keeping her poker face. “The freezer.”
“Shut up,” Loki muttered, glancing at her cards as he passed and feeling a stab of vindication. A two and a four. Complete shit. He smirked, switching to Asgardian as he wished her luck. She flipped him the bird.
Loki followed the smell of food and spices to the kitchen, his heart squeezing tighter and tighter with anticipation until it melted altogether.
Mobius was standing at the stove, swaying lightly to the music as he stirred a pot of stew. He was wearing an apron over his dress shirt and slacks, his coat discarded and his sleeves rolled up to cook. He was trying to sing along to the music, but didn’t know all the words, and so it resulted in a string of half-mumbled lyrics until the chorus. His voice was pitchy and soft, not refined in any way, shape or form, but he didn’t seem to care much.
“Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there
Just like — uh, something, something — you are a mystery
Just like a dream, you are not what you seem
Just like a prayer — uh — your voice can take me there!”
Loki leaned against the doorframe, feeling as though there was something very small and fragile in his chest that was about to burst and send him to tears. The song shifted into a more instrumental section, and Mobius hummed along as the music faded out.
The next song started up, and Mobius perked up with recognition. Loki knew the song too — he couldn’t help but wonder if Wade was messing with the queue — but his suspicions faded away as Mobius began to sing along. He knew every word, his head bobbing along with the beat as he stirred the bubbling red liquid, mumble-singing with a fondness in his voice.
“Listen, baby
Ain’t no mountain high, ain’t no valley low
Ain’t no river wide enough, baby . . . .”
His voice trailed off as the speaker picked up the second part of the duet, a melancholy settling over his shoulders, but joined in again once Marvin Gaye’s voice returned. Loki’s heart squeezed. He was leaving the second part empty, waiting for someone else.
Loki took a quick breath.
“Just call my name, I’ll be there in a hurry
You don’t have to worry —”
Mobius dropped the spoon and jerked around, his eyes wide. A grin spread across Loki’s face and he kept singing, tears pricking his eyes as he meant every word. He took a few steps forward, reaching out a hand. A grin spread across Mobius’s face, that exasperated, affectionate look Loki lived to see. His lips moved and he joined in the chorus, the low rumble of his voice interweaving with Loki’s as their fingers did the same. Loki gave his hand a light tug, and Mobius rolled his eyes, laughing slightly as he put his other hand around Loki’s waist and the two swayed to the music. Loki cupped his hand around the back of Mobius’s neck and the other man leaned against his shoulder, his touch easing the stress and tension in Loki’s body like a sacred balm. Nerves still burned in his gut, but they were easier to handle now that Mobius was in his arms, singing along like a promise.
“You’re such a sap,” he chuckled, once the song was over. He leaned away, leaving only the ghost of his warmth against Loki’s chest, but his eyes were bright and affectionate. “How long were you standing there for?”
Loki smiled, feeling his throat tighten. “Not nearly long enough.”
“Oh, shut up.” Mobius smirked, his cheeks turning pink. His eyes flickered suddenly. “How . . . how much time do we have”?
The question was a pit in Loki’s stomach.
“An hour, maybe,” he answered, his voice hushed. “Two if I push it.”
Mobius’s hand fell away from his waist. “How long after that?”
“I . . . .” Loki fumbled for words, his stomach twisting. “I’m not sure. A few days, maybe. I was hoping we could talk to O.B., assess the situation, find a way for me to . . . be away for longer.”
“Oh, he'd love to.” A smile tugged at Mobius’s lips, only to be washed away by a sudden realization. “Can you get to the TVA, from the tree? Can you see us at all?”
“I . . . I hope so,” Loki said, trying to keep his tone positive. “I can see the TVA from the tree, but I can't watch it, or tend to it like a timeline. It's similar to the Void. I could try opening a Time Door to it, but it’ll be more difficult. I can, though,” he added quickly. “It might just take longer. I think.”
Mobius glanced at the wall, his throat bobbing in a swallow. “Listen, what you did —”
Loki knew immediately what he was talking about. It was the unspoken thing that hung between them, the conversation they’d never had. “I'm sorry,”
Mobius snorted. “You'd better be.”
“It was the only way —” Loki’s words dried up in his mouth. He knew Mobius didn't want to hear it. “I tried. I promise, I tried to find another way. It was . . . a while. I didn't do it lightly. I —” His voice hitched. “I didn't want to.”
“I know that,” Mobius said, raking a hand through his hair. He didn't seem angry, just a little tired, worried, and a fair bit exasperated. “Just — next time, before you pull some universe-altering bullshit that throws you to a far corner of the universe — talk to us first, okay?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Loki’s mouth, and he knew there were tears in his eyes, but he hardly cared. “You're . . . not mad?”
“Oh, I'm mad,” Mobius said abruptly. “I'm absolutely pissed, but not just at you. I'm mad at . . . .” He waved vaguely at the world around them, the timeline, the structure of branches that required careful tending. “The way things are. It sucks.”
“It does,”
“I am mad at you for deciding that you had to be — what, the new He Who Remains?” Mobius snorted, giving Loki that look of affectionate exasperation he'd missed so much. “God. Y’know, when I said I needed a ‘Loki Who Remains’, I didn’t mean it that way. The second I think I have you figured out, you go and pull some crazy shit like that.”
Loki’s heart felt full enough to burst. He smiled softly, putting his hand against the counter and feeling every last bit of tension ebb out of him. “It's my sacred duty to confuse you, Mobius.”
“Yeah, well.” Mobius ducked his head, letting go of Loki’s hand to stir the bubbling pot again. His lips were curled in a smirk. “I'll pin you down one of these days.”
Loki’s cheeks immediately flooded with warmth, the innuendo hitting him straight in the chest. He smiled and leaned against the counter, hoping to the Norns that he looked charming. Normally, he would've fired on with a witty remark, but this — this was different. He could not screw this up. That rang like a bell in his heart, the truth that if something ever happened to this precious, burgeoning thing between them, he might never come back from it. Every other relationship he'd had seemed to pale in comparison with this man who’d seen the darkest parts of him and kept calm, who’d put him first so many times, who’d chosen him.
“I —” Loki lifted the bag, setting it on the counter. His hands were a bit sweaty from nerves. “I brought dessert.” He reached into the bag and gently pulled out the key lime pie he’d bought down at the corner store.
Mobius went still, the wooden spoon carrying on without his fingers and sliding into the bowl.
Loki felt his insides turn to putty, and he was stammering like an idiot. “I — I only bought one. I didn't know how many people there'd be, I should probably run back down and grab another —”
Mobius’s cheeks were faintly pink as he looked up at Loki, his eyes bright as though he had so much to say but didn’t know how. Then, he carefully took the pie from Loki’s hands, set it down on the counter, hooked his fingers in Loki’s shirt collar, and pulled him into a kiss.
It wasn’t rushed, or desperate like earlier. This kiss was slow, easy, savoring every movement and every touch. Every other thought left Loki’s mind, his worries, his insecurities all washed away by the soft warmth of the other man’s lips and the feel of Mobius’s hands traveling up his neck. Mobius leaned into him, and Loki became drunk on the feel of it, his skin buzzing where the other man’s body touched him.
“I love you,” Mobius said, cradling his face. His blue eyes were soft, shimmering like sea glass and crinkled at the edges with a smile. “Did I tell you that, earlier?”
“No,” Loki whispered. His heart was fluttering like a ceramic butterfly, soft and breakable but flooded with a kind of hopeful joy he hadn't felt in centuries.
“Well, I do,” Mobius continued, as if it were the most logical thing in the world, as though it was as easy as breathing. He was smiling, his face bright with joy, and Loki found himself believing it. “You're insane, and I love you.”
A smile crossed Loki’s face, and it stuck. He leaned in and pressed their lips together again, joy bubbling up in him with more energy than he could handle. Mobius let out a contented little sigh, tangling his fingers in Loki’s hair and kissing him back with a slow, easy rhythm that melted Loki’s bones. His legs hit the counter and he leaned against it, pulling Mobius closer, his arms around the other man’s waist —
“Ah, non!”
The two of them stumbled apart as Gambit rushed into the kitchen, his hands fluttering over the stove.
“Mon dieu, you want to give us a burnt spoon in our boil?” he snapped, gently picking the wooden spoon out of the pot. “Thought you were better than this, crazy man.” He turned, and seemed to fully register what had been going on. His chin tilted in a slow nod. “I see.”
Mobius winced. His lips were swollen, and his cheeks flushed a distinct shade of pink. Loki felt a faint swell of pride, one arm still around the other man’s waist. “Remy —”
“No, no, you don’t have to explain.” He waved a hand, grinning like the devil. “May I suggest the guest room, though? Bit more private there, je pense.”
“Oh my God —”
“Dinner is almost ready, though, so you’ll have to save your cher for dessert —”
Mobius covered his eyes, cheeks suspiciously pink, and tangled his fingers in Loki’s to drag him out of the kitchen. Loki was practically choking with embarrassed laughter, and Mobius waited until they were in the living room and out of Gambit’s sight to heave a sigh that dissolved into chuckles.
“I like him,” Loki decided, leaning against Mobius as he glanced back towards the kitchen.
Mobius shook his head, smiling. “I figured you would.”
“Hi.” Wade ran up to them, grinning. “Sorry. You two, singing and dancing in the kitchen? That is the cutest shit I have ever seen —”
“Hey!” Logan snapped from the table, looking disgruntled but affectionate. “Give them some goddamn privacy, Wade!”
“’Course, honeybear,” Wade called over his shoulder. If he’d looked, he would’ve seen the way Logan quickly glanced away, and Laura’s raised eyebrows.
Mobius glanced over at Loki, his voice dry. “We need to lock those two in a closet.”
He grinned back, that mischievous spark curling alight in his chest. He didn’t know if Mobius was serious, but — well. It was the least he could do for them. “Agreed.”
“Oh, my God.” Wade gave a nervous laugh, his scarred cheeks significantly redder than usual. “I come over here, complimenting you on your new relationship and you respond guns blazing, wow —”
Loki glanced over, and caught Sylvie’s eye over her small mountain of poker chips. She’d bluffed her way into winning the round, cackling as she welcomed the impressive pile with open arms. That cackle turned into a wide-eyed look of devious joy as she recognized the silent message. That was another love language between Lokis: scheming together.
“Oh, damn.” Eric leaned away from the table, eyeing Sylvie over his sunglasses. “I do not like that look, what the hell are you thinking?”
Her grin just grew wider. “Don’t worry about it, Eric, you’re not the target.”
Logan squinted. “What?”
“Remy!” Wade practically sprinted into the kitchen. “Is the food ready?”
“Two minutes, mon ami! Start setting the table, ah?”
“Fuck!” Wade ran back out into the dining room. “Okay, guys, round over, let’s get this cleared —”
“So I win!” Sylvie crowed, whirling on Negasonic. “Get stuffed, you little punk —”
Negasonic scoffed back, pushing her cards towards the center of the table. “How old are you?”
They continued to bicker as they cleaned up the game, pausing only when Wade got in between them with the excuse of putting plates on the table. Remy came out of the kitchen a few moments later with a steaming pot of stew, grinning widely. There were seventeen of them in that apartment, so they ended up splayed around the dining and living room, Colossus joined by Al and the man called Dopinder on the couch as Russell claimed the armchair and Mary Puppins snuffled around for dropped pieces of their dinner. The stew — Remy called it a seafood boil — was full of shrimp, oysters, potatoes, corn, sausage, and onions floating in a steaming red liquid, one that burned like fire upon ingestion. Loki managed to hold out for a few minutes of conversation and intrigued side-eyes from Mobius, but then he bit down on a peppercorn, and all was lost.
“Oh, Hel,” Loki coughed, pressing his napkin to his face. His eyes were practically bleeding from the spice. “What’s in this?”
Remy grinned at him, looking completely unbothered as he scooped mussel meat out of its shell and dropped the carapace in a bowl next to the pot. “Cajun seasoning. My own mix.”
Mobius’s eyebrows practically achieved orbit, his spoon hanging in midair. “Loki, are you okay?”
“Fine,” he choked out, reaching for a glass of milk and downing it in an instant. Norns, he was turning into his brother. “Just — not particularly used to —”
“Are you kidding me?” Logan snorted, dropping a mussel shell into the bowl next to the pot. “This ain’t even bad. You should try soondubu jjigae.”
Negasonic perked up at his decent pronunciation. “Dude. You speak Korean?”
“Nah.” Logan spooned more stew into his mouth. “Lived in Japan for a bit.” His eyes flicked towards Yukio, who was sitting next to Negasonic. “Knew someone who liked it.”
“Oh, I love soondubu jjigae!” Yukio’s eyes shone. “Do you speak Japanese?”
“Eh.” The man’s lips tugged in a hesitant smile, and he continued in slow, halting Japanese. Yukio’s face lit up in response, and the two of them began to converse, easing the tension in Logan’s shoulders with every word.
Mobius gave Loki a soft nudge, then leaned back in his chair. “Hey, Wade? Would you mind taking the pie out of the freezer? Just set it on the counter, it needs to thaw a bit.”
Loki grinned as Wade headed off to the kitchen, the burning in his mouth fading away as the scheme took priority. Sylvie was also suffering from the spice, but not as much as him, and so she was ready to go when he caught her eye.
“Hey, Logan.” She leaned forward, glancing across Laura to speak to him. “Domino hid Wade’s birthday present in the hallway closet, would you mind getting it?”
Domino, who was sitting on Logan’s other side, opened her mouth to contradict, but Loki shot her a look. Her brow furrowed, but then she glanced between Logan and the direction Wade had gone, and realization dawned on her face. A smile curled across her lips, and she nodded. “Yeah. You might have to look for a bit, it’s really in there.”
Logan gave them both suspicious glances, but he sighed and got to his feet. “Fine. I just hope it’s not another dog.”
Al gasped from the couch, where Mary Puppins was sitting on her feet. “You don’t mean that!”
Logan pointedly avoided answering her, walking across the two rooms to the closet. The second he was out of earshot, Laura leaned across the table with her eyes narrowed at Sylvie. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting you a stepfather, sweetheart,” Sylvie answered, smiling sweetly.
Wade breezed back into the room a moment later, giving Mobius an exaggerated bow. “Anything else I can help you with?”
At that moment, Sylvie knocked Loki’s bowl over with her elbow. The stew splashed over his white shirt in a wave of red, bringing bits of corn, shrimp, mussel, and potato with it.
“Oh, shit!” Sylvie grabbed a napkin, dabbing at the spill. “Sorry, brother —”
Loki caught her eye, giving her a split-second glare. She winked, then turned to Wade. “Do you have any Shout Wipes? Or a tide pen?”
Wade was staring at Loki’s ruined shirt like it was a house on fire. “Girl, I don’t know if that’ll help here —”
“Can you — just go quickly, okay?” she snapped, wiping off the table. Loki, disgruntled but determined to sell the image, began to dejectedly dab at his shirt with his napkin. Mobius was chewing on his knuckle from trying not to laugh.
“Fine, fine!” Wade pushed his chair back in, and — as they’d expected — made his way towards the hallway closet. “I still don’t think it’ll do much, but —” He froze, just outside of it. His shoulders were stock-still, and then he slowly began to turn, his eyes widening.
Sylvie was on her feet, grinning impishly, wiggling her fingers. “Have fun.”
“Don’t you fucking dare —”
A blast of green light sent him crashing into the closet. Logan let out a surprised yelp, but there was no time for either of them to react as the door swung shut and the knob clicked, glowing green.
Sylvie sat back down, brushing off her hands and looking very pleased with herself. After about a second or two of being stared at by everyone else in the room, she gave a snort. “What? It’s not like they were going to do it by themselves.”
“Maybe,” said Colossus, his metal brow furrowing. “But devushka, we can’t just —”
A loud thump sounded from the closet. Everyone in the room went silent — waiting, listening.
“Are they trying to kill each other?” Dopinder whispered.
“Shh!” Al snapped. She got up and crept towards the closet, tilting her head towards it. A smirk curled across her face. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s working.”
Another thump, and then —
“We have liftoff!” Negasonic hissed, grinning at the unmistakable moan of pleasure that was audible even from across the room. “Can we spritz them like cats now? Can I do it?”
“Maybe,” Al chuckled, giving the door a whack with her cane. “About damn time, boys!”
“You’re all in deep shit!” Logan snapped in a muffled voice, but he sounded considerably less angry than normal.
“Jesus!” Wade groaned. “Just let us be, Al. Please.”
“Alright,” she replied in a sing-song voice, reaching for the television remote and turning up the volume on the hockey game.
Dinner went considerably smoother after that. With a wave of his hand, the stain on Loki’s shirt vanished, and having his mouth on fire became significantly more bearable once the spice started to hit Sylvie more strongly. Wade and Logan stumbled out of the closet in time for dessert, both with flushed faces, tousled hair, swollen lips, and considerably rumpled clothing. Blood was running from the corner of Wade’s mouth, but he looked too dazed to care. Logan’s shirt was untucked and hastily buttoned, an angry red mark forming under his collar, and his hair sticking up in all directions, but he looked more content than Loki had ever seen. It was truly a rare expression on a Wolverine.
Sylvie set down her depleted glass of milk to waggle her eyebrows at them. “Hello, boys.”
“Fuck off,” Logan responded, but there was hardly any malice in it. He sat back down next to Wade, his shoulders relaxed and his eyes at ease.
Wade’s cheeks had gone the same color as his (now cold) stew, which he was drinking with focused speed as he stared at the table and avoided making eye contact with anyone. A few seats away, Negasonic was sniggering uncontrollably, and Russell’s mouth was still hanging open.
“So.” Colossus cleared his throat, getting up to put his dishes in the sink. “I take it you won’t be coming back with us, Logan?”
“That . . . depends.” His gaze traveled to Wade, who choked on a piece of corn.
“Uh.” He quickly dabbed at his face with the napkin, turning to Logan. “You . . . you’d want to stay here?”
Logan’s gaze turned to the table, emotions flickering just below the surface. Quietly, he said, “If I’m welcome.”
“Of course you are!” Wade exclaimed. “Are you serious? Laura, you too —”
Logan’s head snapped up, his eyes fixed on the girl who was practically his daughter. Shock was dawning on Laura’s face as Wade rambled on.
“— I mean, we don’t have a bedroom for you, but there’s an office space that we could convert, it’ll be no big deal —”
“Yes,” Laura blurted. Warily, she glanced at Logan, as if expecting him to tell her no.
Logan’s eyes were brimming with tears.
“Okay.” A smile traced across Wade’s face. “Al, you good with this?”
“Eh,” she snorted from the couch, passing her dishes to Peter as he made a run to the kitchen. “What’s two more superpowered folks in my apartment?”
“Alright, then.” Wade gave Logan and Laura a nervous, but excited grin. “Welcome home, I guess.”
“Thank you,” Logan said quietly. His eyes were shining in a soft sort of way that made Loki feel as though he were intruding on something deeply private.
Welcome home.
Would he ever hear those words from Mobius? Would they ever be able to even have a home? There were so many unknowns, so many ways this could go off the deep end, so many —
“Hey.” A shoulder brushed against his. “I know that look.” Mobius’s blue eyes came into Loki’s vision, calm and concerned. “Snap out of it, okay?”
The knot of tension in Loki’s chest loosened a little as he glanced over at the man next to him. Hesitantly, he reached out under the table, and laced his fingers around Mobius’s. Mobius squeezed his hand back.
“Just be here,” he said, his voice low and soft. “For as long as you can be.”
Loki’s eyes stung with tears, and he couldn’t stop his lips tugging in a smile. Norns, he didn’t deserve this man.
“Pie!” Remy called, parading it out to the table. He grinned as he saw Wade and Logan. “Feeling better, mes amis?”
Logan’s lips twitched. “Shut the fuck up,”
“Wait, before we cut it —” Domino leaned over, digging through her purse and pulling out a few tiny candles, and a lighter. Whoops erupted from around the table, and the pie was pushed in front of Wade, who was now looking considerably embarrassed.
“Oh, no.” Wade tried to hide his smile, but failed. His cheeks were pink, his eyes bright and sparkling, his shoulders hunched inward in a soft, vulnerable way.
As they sang Happy Birthday, Loki was the one mumbling along, stumbling through this Midgard custom he’d never actually been able to experience before. As Wade blew out the candles, Logan smiled softer than Loki had ever seen in a Wolverine, and a hand brushed against his own.
“I need to teach you that song,” Mobius whispered in his ear, under the sounds of clapping and cheering. His eyes sparkled. “We’re doing birthday parties at the TVA now, we should do one for you. You and Sylvie.”
Loki glanced over at him, his hands freezing. A birthday party? He hadn’t celebrated his birthday in . . . .
“It — might be a bit difficult,” he said haltingly. “I don’t know if Asgardian or Jotun dates would translate.”
Mobius gave him a look that clearly said oh, please, and took a thin slice of pie. Seventeen slices were a bit difficult to wrangle, but Blade had been nominated to cut it, and he was doing phenomenally. “C’mon, Loki. You know I like a challenge.”
“That you do,” he murmured, smiling to himself as he took his own slice of pie.
They all ate together, and for a moment, it felt normal. Loki could almost imagine living a life like this: working during the day, coming home in the evening to have dinner at a friend’s house, sitting in the rowdy, imperfect, warm atmosphere of a family. Sylvie was showing Laura her knives, Logan hesitantly asking Yukio and Colossus careful questions about the X-Men, Negasonic asleep on her girlfriend’s shoulder much to Wade’s delight, Gambit laughing as he recounted some wild story, Mobius leaning into Loki’s side as he provided a running commentary of the merits of this pie versus the TVA’s, and Loki himself feeling more full than he had in decades — and not just of food.
His eyes fluttered closed, and he tried to soak up the feeling of this moment: the lingering taste of key lime and graham cracker crust in his mouth, the chorus of laughter and familiar voices, Wade’s yell of delight as he opened his present(a Chappell Roan t-shirt and vinyl), Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell crooning from the window again, the smells of pie and spice and soft wool, Mobius’s shoulder against his and their fingers tangling together.
In the back of his mind, he could feel the tree tugging at him. Two hours and fifteen minutes: not bad. Maybe someday, he could get to the point where he only needed to tend to the tree for eight hours at a time, and could come home in the evening.
Home.
Loki found himself gazing at Mobius, the other man oblivious as he watched Wade fangirl over his new merchandise. Loki saw something new every time he looked at this man: maybe it was the scar on his nose, or the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the freckle next to his ear, the slightly lopsided tilt to his grin, or the way his hair curled upwards completely of its own accord. Loki wasn’t sure when his idea of home had changed from a place to a person, but it was clear now: wherever Mobius was, Loki wanted to be there too.
But Mobius couldn’t come with him to the tree.
Perhaps he could think of it as a — what did Midgardians call it? — a day job. Something important to do during the day, but still leaving enough time for friends and family on the outside. He’d come home from tending to the tree and collapse next to Mobius in his cubicle, arguing about variants and temporal theories and generally distracting him until it was time for dinner, and then bed.
A sad smile traced across Loki’s face.
“Hey.” Mobius glanced over, his brow furrowed. “What’s the matter?”
“The tree,” Loki whispered, the words a weight in his chest. “I have to go back.”
His face fell. “Now?”
“I . . . .” Loki’s gaze dropped to their intertwined hands. “I have time for goodbyes, I think. But if I stretch it any longer —”
“It’s okay.” Mobius gave his hand a light squeeze. Loki looked up, and Mobius’s expression was sad, but soft and affectionate at the same time. Bittersweet. “You’re taking care of us.”
His lips twitched. “That’s how you see it?”
Mobius gave him a sideways look, his mouth curling in a wry smile, but his eyes were bright with tears. “How could I see it any other way?”
“Hold on.” Wade said, leaning over with a worried look like a bloodhound. “What’s going on? Why are we sad?”
We. That choice of word made it even harder. Loki sighed, tearing his gaze away from the man at his side. “I . . . have to go.”
Everyone in the room went silent.
“Really?” To his surprise, Wade actually looked crestfallen. “Right now?”
“Er — yeah.” Loki tried for a smile, but failed. “Timelines won’t look after themselves.”
“Make sure you come back.” Wade said immediately. His brown eyes were bright and intense. “You’re fun. We need to play Scrabble together.”
Loki turned at a flash of movement, and smiled for real as he caught Mobius making a swishing motion at his throat. “Perhaps Monopoly instead.” His gaze lingered a bit longer on Wade. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Sir Thomas Sharpe.” Wade flashed him a grin. “Someone’s gotta get you out of that place every now and then.”
Loki glanced over and caught Logan’s eye. The man’s lips twitched, his eyes soft, and he nodded. Loki nodded back, returning the smile in full force.
Then, he said goodbye to everyone else. Sylvie rounded the table to hug him again, which would’ve made him cry if he hadn’t lost function of his ribs and lungs, and he took one last look at them all: a messy group of mutants, gods, soldiers, assassins, car salesmen, enthusiastic gossipers, questionable poker players, and one strangely adorable dog.
Not one last look, he promised himself. A tendril of warmth curled in his chest, right next to his heart. The first of many.
Mobius walked him to the door. Loki didn’t want to let go of his hand, even as he stood on the threshold. He wanted to soak up every detail then and there, but he reminded himself — they had time.
“I — I’ll work on getting to the TVA the moment I get back,” Loki said, rubbing his thumb against the back of Mobius’s hand. His voice hitched slightly, but he didn’t try to hide it. “Will I find you there?”
Mobius nodded. His eyes were sad, but they carried a kind of lightness — the knowledge that this wasn’t goodbye, but instead, see you soon.
“We’ll figure it out,” Mobius promised, squeezing his hand. His eyes were bright, determined. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a small, nine millimeter bullet that was scorched along the edges. His eyes twinkled. “I won’t get rid of this until you do.”
Loki choked on a laugh. He brushed his fingers along the man’s cheek, and dipped forward to press their lips together. Mobius leaned into him, kissing him softly, and Loki tried to memorize the feel of it: the brush of stubble under his hand, the warmth of the other man’s lips, the rhythm of their breath as they moved together, Mobius’s soft little sigh.
The tree tugged at the back of his mind.
You’re taking care of us.
Loki pulled away as gently as he could, as much as it felt like he was ripping off an oxygen mask. He blinked the tears out of his eyes and briefly touched his forehead against Mobius’s, his lips moving in a whisper as he pulled away. “I’ll see you soon, love.”
Mobius smiled, his eyes teary but crinkling at the corners and lit up with affection, and Loki held onto that image in his mind. This would be hard, no doubt about it, but that song still lingered in his head.
From that day on, I made a vow
I’ll be there when you want me
Some way, somehow.
It was a promise he knew he’d always keep.