Coffee
Three days. Loki was almost proud of himself. Three days of skirting around his father, going out as often as possible, leaving early in the morning and coming home late at night. Three days of shutting himself in his room to avoid conversation. Three days, and his luck was about to run dry.
“Father wants to speak with you,” Thor said through his closed door.
Loki’s stomach flipped.
“Now?”
“Now.”
Loki swung the door open, perhaps more aggressively than he had intended, to find his brother standing awkwardly outside.
“Shouldn’t he be asleep?”
“He was waiting for you to get back.”
Loki wondered if he could survive the fall if he jumped out the bedroom window.
“Just- just tell him I’m asleep.”
“Loki.”
“Tell him anything, I don’t care.”
“Loki, please.”
“Tomorrow morning, I swear.”
Thor sighed heavily, “Fine. Tomorrow morning.”
And his brother, with his back to Loki, muttered under his breath, “You can’t avoid him forever.”
And Loki felt the weight of the sky on his shoulders, nearly crushing him. Maybe he would let it.
“I know.”
Tomorrow morning was a lie. Loki had known when he said it. Instead of waiting for his father to wake, he showered quietly and snuck out the back door, like he had done many times before. Whatever guilt he may have felt for lying to his brother dissolved the minute he stepped outside. The cold wind brushed over his face and relief flooded through him.
There was a record shop a few blocks over. With nowhere to go, Loki found himself banging the snow out of the treads of his boots in the entryway of the store. The girl behind the counter barely looked up at him when he came in, sparing him a quick nod and then going back to whatever it was she had been reading before he came in. Not that he was complaining, quite the opposite actually. So he brushed the snow off his coat and pulled off his mittens and began wandering aimlessly through the aisles of vinyl. The place was empty, save for himself and the cashier, so he took his time picking up records and carefully slotting them back into their cubbies when he had finished reading the tracklist.
When the bell on the door jingled, Loki’s head shot up immediately. And then he wanted to smack himself for his lack of discretion, because there was his stranger. His stranger in a decidedly nicer coat, dusting the snow out of his hair, which Loki could now see was a mess of salt and pepper that brushed the tops of his ears and curled at the nape of his neck. Loki could also see his figure much more clearly now, as the man unbuttoned his long coat. And, it wasn’t that Loki hadn’t found him attractive before, infact, he had spent far more time thinking about his stranger over the past few days than he was really ready to admit. No, Loki had thought he was handsome from the moment he laid eyes on him, but he had been able to shove down his silly little crush because he had convinced himself he was never going to see the man again, and he didn’t even really know what he looked like. He could have been hideous under his bulky coat, at least that’s what he tried to convince himself. But now all of his excuses were slipping through his fingers as he stared (rather unabashedly) at the man. He was lean and solid, and Loki could tell by the way the fabric of his suit shifted around his biceps, he was strong.
The man gave a short wave to the woman behind the counter, who was much more amicable with him than she had been with Loki.
She smiled broadly, “Hey, Mobius.”
Mobius. It played over and over in his mind as he committed the name to memory. Mobius.
“Bea,” Mobius approached the counter, leaning his hip on it with his back to Loki and slinging his coat over his arm, “Got anything new for me?”
Loki realized that he was staring, now, and Mobius didn’t seem to have noticed, but the girl behind the counter certainly had, as she shot him a warning glance. He turned away, busing himself with a stack of cassettes and trying very, very hard not to eavesdrop.
Loki was trying to decide if there was any chance of him making it out of the store before Mobius noticed him, lest the man think he was following him around, and maybe that wasn’t entirely rational, but Loki was starting to panic. He was plotting his route to the door when Mobius appeared in front of him, flipping through the records on the other side of the aisle. Loki felt his face flush.
“Good album,” Mobius said, gesturing to the record in Loki’s hand. He hadn’t even really been looking at it, too busy trying to appear innocuous. He flipped it over. Cocteau Twins. “But I’ve always preferred The Moon and Melodies to Head Over Heels.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fan of new-wave post-punk.”
Mobius smiled, “No?”
“You seem like more of a Guns n’ Roses guy.”
“Don’t insult me.”
Loki smirked.
“You’re still in town, then,” Mobius said without looking up.
And Loki, caught off guard, was feeling decidedly less clever than the first time they’d met.
“I, uh, yeah. Yes. I am.”
And Mobius laughed, short and sweet, and Loki would’ve been offended if not for the way Mobius looked up at him, eyes kind, meeting his own with a brilliant blue that glinted with something he couldn’t place.
“You going to be around for much longer?”
“I’m not sure,” and this time, Loki was telling the truth.
“Well,” Mobius said, checking his watch, “What about the next hour?”
So they were in the diner across the street. And the coffee wasn’t very good, but it was hot, and warmth expanded through Loki’s chest with each sip. They were sitting across from each other at one of the dangerously small tables, Loki trying and failing to tuck his legs under his chair, and ducking his head every time their knees knocked together. If Mobius had noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat across from Loki, looking at him like there was something on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get the words out.
Instead he said, “It’s Mobius, by the way.”
And Loki pretended like he didn’t already know that, “Loki.”
Mobius smiled, “Loki,” he tested the name on his tongue, and Loki nearly shivered at the sound of his name on the other man’s lips, “Nordic, right?”
Loki nodded, the origin of his name was not a subject he was keen to dwell on.
“It suits you.”
Loki felt the tips of his ears heat, and thanked god that his hair had fallen in front of them.
“I never really liked it.”
“Ah, but it’s elegant… regal.”
“Are you sure it suits me?” he was deflecting now.
Mobius met his eyes, open and earnest, “Yes.”
Loki couldn’t hold eye contact, instead he found himself staring directly at Mobius’ lips, the way his mustache tugged up at the corner of his mouth when he smiled, and before he could stop himself he was thinking about how they would feel against his own. Crooked nose pressed lightly against his cheek, mustache brushing his lips.
Loki cleared his throat, shaking himself out of his stupid little fantasy. Mobius was just some guy who just so happened to be unaware of Loki’s mortifying past and his dysfunctional lineage. This meant nothing. Less than nothing. He was new in town and he wanted to make a good impression on the locals, that was it. No reason to go coddling himself with delusions of happy relationships, or god forbid entertaining the idea that Mobius might be interested in him.
But when he looked up, Mobius was smiling at him. It was small, just barely tugging at the corners of his mouth, but a smile nonetheless. Worlds better than the disgusted sneer he’d been imagining.
“I know you aren’t sure how much longer you’ll be around,” Mobius pulled a cream-colored business card from the breast pocket of his jacket and offered it to Loki, “but I’m not going anywhere.”
And Loki felt a rush of warmth flood through him, and when their knees knocked together the next time, neither of them moved away.
“You’re ridiculous,” Thor said, yanking the door open.
Loki sighed. He was growing tired of this routine.
“You can’t just do whatever you want, whenever you want.”
“I had to run some errands.”
“Errands.” Thor didn’t sound convinced.
“I was… meeting a friend. It was last minute.”
“Loki, I can’t keep covering for you. I won’t.”
“I never asked you to.”
Thor looked like he wanted to argue, but bit his tongue.
“Loki, we need to talk.”
Loki rolled his eyes.
“I got a call today. I have to go to London. There’s some trouble with a couple of the shareholders, they’re concerned about the state of the company, with dad being sick and all. They need to know that things are under control. I shouldn’t be long, a week, maybe two. I need you to take care of him, please. I don't have any other options, I can’t find anyone in time, and you know how he was the last time we hired help. Please, Loki.”
Loki sobered.
“I-- Thor. You know how much I appreciate you taking care of him all this time, and I’m sorry I haven’t helped more, but I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Loki, please. You already have the time off work. He only has a few appointments this week. I made a list of everything you have to do.”
“He hates me! He’ll try and throw me out the moment you leave.”
“He doesn’t have a choice. He’ll deal with it.”
“And what about me?”
“You’ll deal with it.”
“You do realize the position you’re putting me in.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry,” he actually sounded like he meant it, “Will you please go talk to him?”
So Loki carded his fingers through his hair, straightened his jacket, and walked into his father’s room.
The old man looked terrible, so thin his skin was clinging to his bones. His fingers and toes were black and blue from lack of circulation. The bags around his eyes were deep and heavy, his eyes half-lidded.
“You finally decided I was worth your time,” his father sneered at him.
“That isn’t fair.”
“Fair? You think I give a shit about fair? You’re just as entitled as ever, staying in my house without paying me any respect,” his voice was shaky and strained, “You haven’t changed at all.”
Loki couldn’t be fucked to play along with his little guilt-trip, “Has Thor told you?”
“Told me what?”
“He’s leaving.”
“Why?” Odin’s face was turning red.
“Business. He has to take care of some things in London; reassure your shareholders that OS and Co. is in good hands.”
“So what, you’re going to hire some idiot to come take care of me?”
Oh, Loki was going to enjoy this.
“No, actually, it’s too close to the holiday, short notice and all that. I’ll be staying here.”
The look on his father’s face almost made the whole ordeal worth it.