what if...I took a basic meme premise and made it fucky - for icasm

[favoriteanalyst]

[He keeps things from Loki, of course.

Not the important things, the pertinent things. Everyone has their secrets, and no one is ever truly an open book. (Regardless of how well he knows Loki. Extenuating circumstances.) And while Loki has slowly gotten to learn more about how the TVA works, he isn't privy to every detail. He's genuinely curious sometimes. And maliciously curious at other times. Mobius tries to strike a balance, let him know or learn on his own the things he can, steer clear of the things he shouldn't.

So while he's Mobius' partner, something of a junior agent in his own right with several, several caveats, he also doesn't need to know about every aspect of his job.

It's harder when it's another Loki variant that comes across his desk. Sylvie is a point of...contention? A special case, that's for certain. Dangerous, yes, and well worth his involvement, but...different. Not, as such, a case at all anymore, not really. But this one's fairly cut and dry. He frowns when he looks through the casefile. Because Loki shouldn't be anywhere near this one.

Variant L1952 took a different turn after being picked up by Thanos. A mix of biding his time too long, the effects of the mind stone, some powerful persuasion, and a budding army of zealots - this one turned from desperate survivalist wannabe conqueror into a fullblown child of the Mad Titan. It's not pretty, the way things devolve for the variant from there, at least as far into the branch as they've been able to track. The trickiest part is how this one seems to elude their immediate grasp. He's slippery and powerful and needs another set of eyes to make a plan of action to find him and take him in with as little injury to the hunters as possible. The scepter is a tremendous artifact with a stone of great ability if used right (and he can see it now, a trophy in Ravonna's office, and the thought hurts more than he thinks it should), and even when Gamora and Nebula aren't around, or Proxima Midnight and the rest, there's still a Chitauri army to contend with.

It's the kind of thing where he realizes he could use Loki's insight on this, too. Not just for it being a Loki variant - Mobius has seen many come and go without issue before. There's a combination of who it is, and the circumstances surrounding him, and not to mention Thanos in play, that makes him realize that a little help might be prudent for expediency's sake.

He doesn't want to let Loki know. It's...delicate. The kind of thing that his Loki is still relatively fresh from, that might still bleed as an open wound. But Loki's a nosy little shit, and he has noticed a new case that he has decidedly not been specifically on, so there are questions. And he hates this. But. But.

Stonyfaced, he hands Loki the file.] You're not gonna like it.

Comments

[icasm]

[ The problem of a duplicating Loki is that it's difficult to figure out just which of them needs to be collared. Mobius put some distance between the two of them, which is appreciated... kind of... okay, actually, Loki understands the need for it from a combat perspective and hates it on a deep, visceral level otherwise. Hates that L1952 is focused on doing harm to Mobius yet is still scanning the area for him, hates that this has all gone so awry, so quickly, hates that he's even in this cursed realm, feeling sad and compassionate towards a people who abandoned him as an infant to the ice and the cold. He hates the Casket, hates this entire scenario, and mostly...

Mostly, he hates the variant.

At least this is a familiar emotion, unlike the concern broiling in the pit of his stomach as several of the duplicates start to close in on Mobius. There aren't any Hunters left, he realizes, and takes a quick breath in to try and stave off panic.

It's just the three of them. Well. And an army of duplicates, can't forget those, but if he knows himself, L1952 is going to try to sneak up on him while he's preoccupied worrying about the disaster rapidly unfolding and trying to sort out the real from the illusions.

As he realizes this, the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up on end.

Loki spins in place, clocking the variant in the face with a fist that is more run on instinct than it is a plan; part of him hopes that the pain is enough to set the illusions on the fritz for a moment, part of him realizes belatedly that any child of Thanos has long since developed the capacity to function through pain of all things. He can't see Mobius at this point, and that's... yeah. He's worried.

L1952 sneers and laughs. ] Worried about your little pet, are you? You should be. [ He draws breath to continue and Loki headbutts him, hard, before his hand comes up with the collar and snaps it around his neck. ]

[favoriteanalyst]

[When the collar snaps on, all the magic, and therefore the duplicates, vanish as though smoke on the breeze.

In the moments beforehand, however:

A veritable army of Lokis advancing on Mobius, wild glint of cobalt blue from the stone and its influence dancing around, a distracting display of power when each scepter fires off a bolt. Normal Loki magic involving this kind of magic tends to be for show only, frivolous, untouchable. But sometimes illusion and conjuration and offensive magic all rolled together is impossible to visually tell the difference between. Mobius ducks, rolls, and impacts dart around him. Not nearly so large as the real deal, fractions of a greater power, but still perfectly able to do him some harm. It's when he rises back to his knees, while Loki has his own variant to deal with, that he's caught off guard. There's one, suddenly, rather than an army, a very real-feeling hand at his throat. He can hear a mild scuffle from where his Loki is, but he only has eyes for the sleep- and sanity-deprived eyes before him. He can see, at this distance, the subtle veins of similar blue contracting around the eyes. There's just enough Loki in there that he can see the pain. That however unaffected L1952 wants to seem, Mobius had hit somewhere tender with his words. The pinch at the corners, a twitch to his lips even has he smiles triumphant.

Just enough that he has to try. There's nothing else for him to do. Mobius struggles for breath in the grip.]

It's okay. You don't have to--

[This counterpart to L1952 doesn't give him the chance.] No. I want to. [He lifts Mobius into the air with one hand, the effort just enough to make the vision shimmer green-gold and translucent, but the scepter is quite solid when it stabs into him, slipped under the padding of his vest. If Mobius is thankful for anything, through the pain he can't yell through for lack of breath, it's that it hasn't the true power of the stone in the illusion, something that cannot be duplicated, and therefore he's spared any residual effects.

And then the duplicate vanishes without a trace. Mobius drops to the ice and wheezes, crumpled in on himself.]

[icasm]

[ It's the sound of Mobius hitting the snowy ground that gets Loki's attention, whipping his head in that direction before he runs, leaving L1952 cursing and sputtering on the ground, slowing down only when he reaches Mobius' side. ]

Shit, shit, shit.

[ They're both bleeding, though Mobius' blood puts a lot more fear of things into Loki's heart than the sight of his own, there are no living Hunters left, and they have to get L1952 back to the TVA for processing. Also to get Mobius some medical attention, clearly. He puts a hand on Mobius' shoulder, and another at his side to see if he can't keep pressure on the wound. ]

Can you stand?

[favoriteanalyst]

[It's an odd sound he makes, a shivering groan, cold and warm and bleeding and off-kilter. It hurts, but mostly from the collision with the ground right now than the stabbing. That'll change soon enough, he's aware. He slides a hand down over Loki's, sucks in a shaky breath with the pressure.]

Gonna have to try. [Because if he doesn't give it a go now, the longer they're here, the less he'll be able to. He curses, squeezing his eyes shut.] Tempad's in my pocket. You got him? You okay? Tell me you're okay.

[icasm]

I got him. He's over there shrieking with a collar on.

I'm...

[ Is he okay? He takes a deep breath and something catches uncomfortably in his side; he's probably not okay, but he's not at the state that Mobius is in, mostly because he's not bleeding as profusely just yet. Loki recognizes he's probably being held together by no small amount of the magical equivalent of spit and spite right now, but. He doesn't like the implications of the noise Mobius just made. ]

I'll survive, [ is what he settles on, and that seems true enough ] but we need to get you and the Variant back to the TVA now. Here. [ He settles on his knees in front of Mobius, keeping his hand at his friend's side. ] Put your arms around my neck and I'll get us out of here.

[ Piggyback style? Apparently. But at least this way he can see where he's going and support Mobius' weight all at the same time. ]

[favoriteanalyst]

Loki, that's not-- [Hm. Breathing too hard, that hurts. Breathing normal, that's also starting to hurt.] Fuck, neither of us are okay, huh?

[If he were in better shape, he'd argue. But they're both bleeding and not getting any better, this timeline's not getting any more pruned, and the variant isn't getting any more arrested. He still makes a disgruntled sound and starts to reach for Loki, pulling away the hand over his. For both their sakes, he pulls out the tempad with the other hand, trying to dial up the doorway back with mostly just a thumb.

Hard enough as it is normally, but it wobbles and bounces in his hand. Oh. His hand is shaking.] Might be better if you go get help. Faster.

[icasm]

No, [ Comes out sharper than he intends but not sharper than he means, ] I am not leaving you behind here.

[ It's too cold, too dangerous. What if one of Thanos' brood finds him, or a Jotun? Without Loki, he'll have no chance of survival with either aggressor. No, he's don't leaving Mobius behind. Whatever happens will have to happen to both of them.

He notices Mobius' hand shaking and puts one of his behind the other man's fingers, to steady it. ] Can't you send out a distress signal, or something?

[favoriteanalyst]

[Yeah, should've seen that coming. What a disaster, even if they won, in the end. Too many dead. Too many injured. But at least it's (almost) over. Loki's sharpness barely penetrates, but something still working and on the job in the back of his mind notes it, earmarks it for later. He shakes his head and tries very hard not to start chattering his teeth.]

Communication through time...real tricky thing. Lose the signal easy, ends up somewhen else.

[Always easier to just have someone pop through a door to pass along a message. He manages a few more button presses, and the amber light of a door appears, and it feels pretty close to the most beautiful thing he's seen. (Well. Other than Loki, it's the most beautiful thing he's seen in the past hour, easy.) That task done, fuck it, he sets it in Loki's hand trying to steady his and reaches out his arms to get them around Loki as previously suggested. No more arguing, just get him home.]

Gonna bleed on you. Sorry. [The cold is creeping in more and more, and he can't tell if it's just lying on the cold Jotunheim ground, or the bloodloss, or both. Is this shock? He's trying very hard not to think about how far that tip went in like a hot knife through butter, what might have gotten sliced open in the process.] D-don't wanna hurt you more.

[icasm]

[ Loki wishes he had several more arms at this moment so he could also put a hand at Mobius' cheek; as it is, he is occupied instead with keeping the hand at his side again in a vain hope of stemming the blood flow. ]

I don't mind, [ Loki admits, hissing under his breath as he lurches to his feet with Mobius on his back. There's no good way of keeping the man's leg from pressing against where Loki is bleeding, which.

Both of them bleeding on one another seems fair. ] We'll survive. That's the entire point of this.

C'mon. [ This to the variant still laying down in the snow, not too far from the door, who snarls at Loki and nearly gets a kick in the jaw for his trouble. ] Through the door first, you. [ Once the variant gets to his feet Loki kick him in the ass to get him through the amber-lit doorway, pulling a breath of cool air before he steps through and bellows: ]

Can we get some help here?!

[favoriteanalyst]

[Very fair. The fact that he can carry Mobius and also get his fucked up variant to hop to is impressive, and he'll have to take time to express how impressed he is later, when they aren't actively bleeding on each other. Even still, the movement is jostling, and he groans low, unable to bite it all the way back.

The good part about there being so many people in the TVA is there's always going to be someone around. Some poor secretary type pokes her head into the hall, squeaks an "oh my god", and audibly clacks heels away to get said help.

It does not take long for the cavalry to arrive from there. It's a mess, a flurry of activity when various minutemen pour in around them, past them. Through the doorway to take stock of the situation and prune it quick, to the variant to grab him, even as he hisses and snarls at them.] How dare you touch me, I'll gut you, just like your little useless friends, just like his pathetic pet- [Needless to say they are not amused.

And then around the injured parties, questions asked, orders given, hands to grab and pull and set and search. It all becomes a swirling blur to Mobius, who still wants a hand on Loki, still wants him nearby. There are off-white scrubs appearing in the sea of black. He has the absurd thought that his coat is back to its bland normal instead of having Loki's special fashionable touch, and that's terribly sad. A real damn shame.]

Loki-

[icasm]

[ Loki is not-so-quietly arguing with a Judge — no, he won't do a debriefing now, no, he doesn't care what the regulation regarding the issue is, no, he won't be leaving Mobius' side for treatment, he'll be fine — when Mobius' voice cuts through the din and Loki is turning in place to put his hand in his friend's. ]

Hey, I'm— [ hissing, suddenly, when one of the medics who has reached them has decided Loki's distracted state makes this a good time to try and clean his wound, but he doesn't wave the person off. He has bled through his shirt, and his jacket at this point, so maybe it's necessary. Plus if he wasn't so angry with the idea of being pulled away to somewhere separate, he'd be swaying in place. ] I'm here. We're safe, we're good, it'll be fine.

[favoriteanalyst]

Bullshit. [At least he can manage that much without much conscious thought, Loki's hand warm in his trembling one. Will it be fine? They're back, they're safe, and they'll get medical treatment. Surely it'll be fine.

He's never thought too terribly hard about dying, or at least, whenever those type of thoughts creep in, he is quick to ignore them or store them away. There's only so much treatment to be done on the spot, doing their damnedest to stifle the immediate bleeding. There's a gurney (and in spite of the retro-future appearance, the hilariously outdated analogue style of everything, the TVA is not actually completely backwards--this floats, for instance, hovering for a smoother ride and easier transport) that he's lowered down onto, even as other helping hands take off his vest, none too gently rip his shirt further to get at the bloody mess of a wound. Everyone should be thankful, he thinks, that that stupid fucking spear thing at least has a shockingly sharp tip rather than a broad blunt end shoved in with godlike strength. Better that it was low on him, rather than in the chest, or a swipe across the throat, or it stabbed completely through and through--

He's going to have some answering to do for the way this mission went so sideways, but he's going to have to live first before he can get chewed out.

One of the medics not trying to fuss at Loki instead tries to pry him gently away.] Sir, I'm going to have to ask that you come with us so we can get you seen to. [Also as well as wheeling Mobius out. Do not let Loki run alongside in his state.]

[icasm]

[ Mobius says 'bullshit' and Loki can't help but bark out a laugh, which is possibly one of the worst ideas he's had since entering the Timedoor because it causes his side to hitch in a lot of very sharp pain almost immediately. He squeezes Mobius' hand instead of arguing with him, though, and then there's a medic pulling him away and he doesn't want to let go. ]

Okay, [ he says, because he's suddenly too tired to fight about it, but: ] I want to be in the same room as Mobius [ is out of his mouth a second later, because he's... terrified, honestly, that something is going to happen while he's not there. Something will go wrong, Mobius has already lost too much blood, they won't let Loki in to see him; the possibilities are endless.

The medic clearly wants to argue with him on the subject, but someone else nods, and so they're off. ]

[favoriteanalyst]

[The journey is made in a daze. Time always works differently in the TVA, but even with that knowledge, it still feels like seconds-minutes-hours are all jumbled up. Lights go by. There are too many voices for him to focus on any one (and if they aren't Loki, he doesn't want to hear it anyway), and in spite of the pressure and the immediate attempts to stopper up the bleeding, he finds himself cold, like the chill of the ice world has made a home of his bones.

And what'll happen to Loki if his body's stupid enough to kick it? There might be some pity, some leniency for his assistance, maybe even possibly a genuine offer to take him on. More likely not. More likely something worse, and he'll make some daring escape and go find Sylvie in the big wide timeline, and move onward.

It's the last coherent thought he remembers.

He'll be told, later, when he's properly conscious and truly awake for a while, about being stitched back up from the inside out. That he's damned lucky the damage wasn't worse/deeper/just a hair to the left or right or up or down, that he would've bled out worse and faster, that he gave them a hell of a scare, that it was touch and go for a while, that he never should put himself in a situation like that again.

There are things the nurses and doctors and fellow agents won't tell him. But Loki might.

It's his first coherent thought he's consciously aware of when he wakes: Loki. The second is that he's still cold. Not, perhaps, the bone-deep Jotunheim-and-bloodloss type of chill, but still chilly enough to notice. The lights are dim, thankfully, and the bed isn't uncomfortable. He's aware of an ache, just a general all over ache, distantly, beyond whatever painkillers he's probably been given, and that he desperately wants to stretch out every muscle and pop every joint he's got, and that his mouth is dry as a desert.

And he comes right back around to his partner. He tries once, twice, and then manages to make sound happen in his rough throat.]

Loki?

[A small sound. It's entirely possible the mischief maker is elsewhere. Getting treated himself, or popped out for food, or simply...not here. But it's also entirely possible that Loki is here, somewhere, waiting for him.]

[icasm]

[ On the other side of the room from Mobius' bed there's a chair. One of those semi-stuffed, soft enough to be comfortable on the eyes but not on the body, at least not for extended periods of time; they aren't meant to inspire restfulness, just as much comfort as is required for not complaining about the lack of comfortable chairs. They're definitely not meant to be slept in, and yet this is what has happened; Loki's shoes are off, his socked feet tucked in underneath his body, his chest leaning against the back of the chair while his head is situated with his chin tucked in close to his chest. There's a book on the floor, apparently dropped at some point as it's open and face down without much care for the pages.

He starts at the sound of his name, blinking in the half-light of the room, before he focuses his eyes on the man in the bed who is clearly awake now. Crossing the room happens in an instant, without thought; Loki picks up Mobius' hand from where it has been resting against the blanket over him and laces their fingers together.

His eyes are very green at this moment, as he leans over his friend. ]

Hey. [ Quietly. Like he might disturb Mobius if he's too loud. ] Do you want some water?

[favoriteanalyst]

[Even if he couldn't see or hear him, he'd know by touch alone that it's Loki who takes his hand. Warm. Warm hand, long fingers, terribly pretty eyes, and a voice he's relieved to hear again. Mobius visibly relaxes, which looks more like sagging.

Loki who carried him to relative safety; Loki who put himself on the line when he didn't have to; Loki who was also wounded, bleeding, in pain; Loki who's stayed by his side for god knows why.

(Obvious reasons aside. Who else will care about him enough to take him under their wing?)

He tries again to speak, thinks better of it. Everything feels akin to a muddy mix of sand and glue, so rather than immediately verbally express how glad he is that Loki's here, that he's okay, he merely nods at the question. It's enough, while he's still scrabbling desperately for full consciousness, to know that Loki's alive and has been, apparently, waiting for him.]

[icasm]

[ There's a bedside table; on it are a set of glasses, one with a metal straw, and a pitcher of water with ice. Loki pours water into both of them before he picks up the glass with the straw and holds it towards him with one hand so that Mobius can easily drink.

Loki's eyes don't stay in one place, but they do stay on Mobius for the most part. He looks the other man over, from his hairline down to where the blankets are tucked in around his torso. Mobius looks... appropriate, for someone who just went through a life-threatening ordeal. That doesn't mean he likes the shadows under Mobius' eyes, or how drawn and tired he looks.

He should maybe not say the first thing that comes to mind, and yet, he draws a breath immediately anyway. ]

I think they know. [ About them, he means. It's not like he was being subtle about the level of worry he had about Mobius.

As far as he's concerned, any adult who's ever been involved with anyone else can probably tell why. ]

[favoriteanalyst]

[Probably not the first thing, no.

One thing at a time. He drinks, a few long and greedy sips before that becomes too much all at once, shivers at the cold, remembers to breathe and take it a little easier. At least he feels more awake and a little more human for it, licking chapped lips, knowing his throat isn't going to be full of dust when he next speaks like his body's become an ancient tomb.

Not just yet.

He can parse Loki's concern later, because...because it's important, he's sure, but it's much more important to Mobius to express his own concerns first. They are slightly simpler ideas at the moment. His fingers tighten in Loki's.]

You okay?

[He's not bleeding out nor in his own hospital bed, so. It's a good sign at any rate.]

[icasm]

I'm not bleeding anymore. [ A small nod and sets Mobius' glass down in favor of picking up his own. His other hand is still in Mobius' and he's not letting go. ] They said I'll be fine.

[ That's... shortening what he was instructed to do by quite a lot, actually. He's on medication to curtail any infection, which is a new experience for him, and he can feel where they stitched him back together. He refused sedation for it. It hurts, and it's weird, and he's been told on no uncertain terms he's to stay out of the field until a medical professional has looked him over and cleared him. ]

I'm okay.

[ And with that, he decides... whatever happens, whatever Mobius' higher-ups think about their relationship, he's not going to worry about it right now. ]

How are you feeling?

[favoriteanalyst]

[Mobius frowns. It's that thinky kind of frown, the one that suggests Loki's said something that he needs to come at at a different angle, but he's not here enough to see angles. Just their hands together, those eyes burning green, hair that could use a wash. He'd like to help Loki wash it. Nice hot shower and gentle fingers everywhere. Yeah...

Wait, focus.]

Bullshit you're okay. [So yeah, he'll just be blunt about it.] Probably more okay than me. [A concession. He shifts just a little, less that he's truly uncomfortable and more that he's testing himself out. Sluggish and slow and like a pile of pudding. Probably for the best.

He's not about to say he feels like pudding, though the thought crosses his mind.] Like I got hit by a truck and then backed over a couple times? Guess it was a very sharp truck. Just once. [His other hand flexes, slides over the blanket and doesn't quite get to the outer edges of the injury lest he jostle something, or poke something too hard, or, he's not sure. Do Something Wrong.] Cold sharp truck.

[icasm]

[ Loki is in the middle of drinking his own water when Mobius calls bullshit; he gives the other man's hand a squeeze and raises his eyebrows but does not design to give an immediate response to that.

He's drinking. Give him a second. ]

More okay than you are, [ is confirmed once he's set the glass back down. Instead of continuing to loom over Mobius, feeling ineffectual, he moves to perch himself on the very edge of the bed and closer to Mobius' knee than his hip. To be at his hip would be to sit too close to the wound, and he's feeling... well. Concerned. Nosy, too. He wants to look at it, despite having no medical training of his own beyond what it takes to stop someone from bleeding out on a battlefield, and that's not exactly a helpful desire or safe instinct to indulge at the moment, by Loki's measure. ] I didn't let them sedate me. [ He gives a half shrug. ] You, on the other hand, passed out.

[ Not that he thinks the doctors would have allowed Mobius the choice. ]

I'm glad you weren't, actually, hit and run over by a truck. [ That would involve resetting various broken bones, of which Mobius has none currently, and Loki is more than happy to take that boon where he can get it. Healing from broken bones is a miserable, time-consuming experience he wouldn't wish on anyone he gave two shits about.

His free hand comes up, brushes some strand of Mobius' hair from his brow, and then just... stays on his face. Loki's nostrils flare, and his eyes get a little wider than they were a moment before.

He is not going to cry now, he tells himself, and knows it is going to be a near thing at best. ]

[favoriteanalyst]

Was bleeding a little harder than you. [Rest assured that Loki was definitely bleeding a concerning amount at a rapid rate. No one will deny that.] It's supposed to be on the inside, not. [He lifts his free hand for a moment, as if to wave the thought aside.] Everywhere.

[He'd like to admonish Loki for not taking something, but he thinks he gets it, or at least some of it. Later, when he's a little bit more present in himself, he'll have to ask Loki about the healing without magic. The TVA isn't medieval about it; they can take care of their own. But with science and technology and medicine and not, decidedly, anything magical.

Nor will he suggest he might've liked the truck a little better than watching someone with Loki's face make that horrible expression and gleefully tear into him. Just personal preference at that point.

Loki's gentle and caring, and Mobius closes his eyes for a moment, leaning his face into the hand cradling there. It's a soft and cozy comfort that maybe he wouldn't necessarily indulge himself in but sees no reason not to now. When he blinks his eyes back open, they lock on Loki's, that expression, and Mobius sighs a little.]

Hey. I'm here. 's okay. Won't be dying on your watch, Nurse Loki.

[icasm]

[ Loki hasn't yet fully processed just how fucked up it was for Mobius to have to deal with being attacked by someone with his lover's face. It'll be a new and terrible realization for him later, probably, and more evidence that he should have fought harder to keep Mobius back at the TVA, where he could have been kept safe.

Paired with the knowledge that nothing he could have said or done would have been likely to convince Mobius to stay behind means it'll be so much fun to attempt to avoid discussing at some following point in time. ]

You shouldn't be allowed to tell me it's okay when it very much is not okay. [ His voice comes out steadier than he feels. His hand remains where it is. Nothing, as far as he can measure, about today was 'okay'. It was a shitshow from beginning to end, and if he properly worked for the TVA, he's sure that he'd be given a box to collect his various personal items in and told to get the hell out.

Fortunately, or unfortunately? He doesn't, and hasn't been given the boot. Likely those higher up have simply decided to just set the blame at Mobius' feet instead. Once he's better, probably. His brain has wrapped itself around the idea that Mobius' odds in the likelihood of long-term survival probably go down the longer he's involved with Loki, a Loki, any Loki not just him, and that thought is currently at war with everything in him that just wants to keep the man safe for fuck's sake.

He doesn't know what to do with it. How to get it to stop or resolve itself into some thought he can actually use. So for a moment he just stares at Mobius, throat working around thoughts that won't come out from behind his teeth, and then he leans forward (carefully, mindful of the wound and the healing and all of it) and bends his lanky frame until he can kiss Mobius on the lips. Loki's breath comes out shakily afterward, but he doesn't immediately straighten up or pull away. ]

[favoriteanalyst]

[When he's a little more cognizant of the details around him and processing the implications, he will likely make heavier note of the eye color. Contrast it to blue, to sparkling blue, to icy blue, to glowing dancing unhinged blue.

But not, obviously, right this moment. Because Loki's right. Nothing's actually okay, save for the fact that they're somehow alive. And the rest of their team is dead. The whole thing went south, even if he doesn't have any answers to how it could've gone better, honestly, and he's going to be responsible.

They'll burn that bridge when they get there, possibly while in the middle of crossing it.

Right now he's focused on how upset Loki looks. How there's a lot going on inside his head and has chosen not to express any of it in words. Given that it means a kiss, Mobius can't exactly complain, though it means he can't do much to help with the internal war. He's not in a place where he can pin Loki down with a look and deduce his thoughts at a glance. He's in a place where there's a tickle to Loki's hair where it brushes, where he adores his partner, where one simple kiss is the best thing he's felt in days, where he can see Loki trying not to come apart at the seams.

He reaches his free hand up to brush back some of that hair, a small mimic of Loki's earlier action.]

And either you shouldn't be allowed to be so warm, or I'm not allowed to be so cold. C'mere. [He doesn't scoot very much, but the intent is there at least. Making fractionally more room on the bed.] You'll be careful.

[icasm]

[ It would be, not easy exactly, but a comforting thing to express what's going on in his head and have Mobius take it apart, piece by piece, until Loki on longer felt uncertain about how things might go. Mobius is good at that, he knows.

But there's a part of him that is blaming himself for the way this went, for dead...not friends, exactly, because it goes Mobius and B-15 and but people who would've listened to him, for the trouble Mobius will definitely be in once it's been decided that he's well enough to be in trouble. That part of him does not desire absolution. It just wants to be dismayed, angry, hurt. Afraid.

So he'll indulge it, for now, and will not ask Mobius to help him work through it. Not as long as he's in this bed.

It'll probably be fine.

Loki sets his hip down against the mattress carefully, putting one arm beneath is head and the other laces its fingers with Mobius' and rests on his chest. ]

You are cold. [ As used to colder temps as Loki is, he hadn't really processed it at first. He presses his nose to Mobius' temple, before following that gesture with a kiss, and breathes in the scent of the other man beneath the hospital cleansers on his skin. ]