#i just need to experience a hug from him IMMEDIATELY (keels over and dies)

[mouseship]

I know for a fact Jerry gives AMAZING hugs. like??? and he definitely smells good too. this is a fact because i know everything about him (real!)

[lightsupinthenorth]

Damn it, I’m calling you mine

Read on AO3

*

When Alternate-Mobius (as Loki has taken to calling the Mobius from this timeline in his head) comes to get him out of his cell and lead him to one of the interrogation rooms for the umpteenth time in however long it is he has been stuck in this cursed timeline, Loki lets himself be dragged there without protesting.

Protesting got old fairly quickly, considering it accomplished nothing at all. It doesn’t even get on the nerves of the TVA agents and hunters as it did in the timeline Loki left against his will.

Alternate-Mobius’ grip on his forearm is firm, firmer than it usually is. As if he were afraid Loki was going to make a run for it. As if Loki were stupid enough to think it would be of any use, after all this time. Loki would be insulted if he could muster enough energy for such an emotion.

As soon as they’re inside the interrogation room, Alternate-Mobius locks the door behind them. That’s new, too. Loki’s eyebrows raise slightly, but Loki doesn’t question Alternate-Mobius. What is even the point? He’ll know soon enough what the man is trying to do. Probably.

Alternate-Mobius fiddles with his TemPad for a few seconds and a familiar orange portal opens in front of them.

“Follow me.”

Loki nods, ready to obey, but Alternate-Mobius doesn’t move. Instead, he opts to stare at Loki with a frown on his face.

“Really? You’d follow me just like that? You’re not even going to question it?”

It’s Loki’s turn to frown. Why would Alternate-Mobius ask such a useless question? Has he yet to register how Loki’s fire has died out ages ago?

He shrugs.

“Okay then, let’s go…”

Loki swears he hears Alternate-Mobius mumble “what the fuck have they done to him?”, but he doesn’t have time to think about it any further before he’s pulled by Alternate-Mobius through the time-portal.

Before Loki can blink, he’s in a living-room with Alternate-Mobius by his side. All he can focus on apart from that is his own confusion.

He hadn’t known what to expect, but he hadn’t been expecting something this benign.

“Where are we?”

“Oh, so you still have some questions then. Thank God, you had me worried for a second over there.”

Loki, instead of unpacking what Alternate(?)-Mobius just said, glares at him until he relents.

“We’re at my flat, it’s a long story, I’ll explain everything later. First, tell me if you’re okay.”

His gaze travels the length of Loki’s body, as if he’s assessing damage, and then he’s staring right into his eyes. Maybe he’s searching for the damage in his soul, then. There’s a lot to find, without a doubt.

The concern that radiates off of the man brings a realisation to life in Loki.

“Mobius?”

Of course, it’s Mobius. Alternate-Mobius is also Mobius. But what Loki is really asking is “are you my Mobius?” Because that’s how he thinks of the first version of Mobius he got to meet. He can’t ask that, though. Mobius couldn’t possibly react to such blatant (and misplaced) possessiveness in a positive manner.

“Yes.”

Loki wants to take the simple answer at face value, but he has to be sure. He has to be sure he’s got this right. He couldn’t cope if he accepted this as true only to have his fragile hope ripped away from him later.

Sylvie betrayed him, sending him to an alternate timeline where everything that had become familiar to him at the TVA was here and not here at the same time. It had been torture. Especially seeing Alternate-Mobius constantly. The other version of Mobius only served to remind Loki of what – of whom – he had lost.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

It’s not comfortable, being on this side of lies. Loki has a lot of experience as a liar and as the one being lied to. He far prefers the first configuration, it has to be said.

“What would I gain by taking you here and lying about which version of me I am?”

“Seriously Mobius, now is not the time to answer a question with another question.”

Loki is dead on his feet. He cannot fathom how he manages to stay standing. He fears it will not last much longer.

“I… I don’t know. Ask me something only your Mobius would know.”

Loki blinks a few times, trying to come to terms with this Mobius (whichever he is) saying “your Mobius” like this. Like it’s easy. Like it’s an evidence.

It turns out that Loki worried for nothing, earlier, when he kept himself from asking if this Mobius was his.

After a small eternity, Loki focuses on Mobius’ request instead of on this insignificant (but not for him) detail.

“How did we find out Sylvie was hiding in Haven Hills, Alabama?”

Loki could have asked Mobius a lot of things, but this question seems like a good option. No one knows about this but them. Loki doubts Mobius put it in the reports or mentioned it to anyone, because it’s just a detail, a clue that led them to Sylvie. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But Loki remembers it, and he’d bet his Mobius would too. The elation they felt when they reached their goal is not something that can be forgotten easily, after all. At least, Loki hopes not.

“We found out because you’re clever and we make a great team, but I don’t see how that’s gonna convince you I’m your Mobius.”

Loki feels winded by Mobius’ words. The praise, the acknowledgment of their partnership, and the “your Mobius” (for the second time in a matter of minutes). However, he can’t let himself lose his focus.

“That’s very nice of you to compliment me, and we do make a rather spectacular team. But I’m asking you about the clue which led us to the right location.”

“Oh, you mean Kablooie?”

As soon as Loki registers the words, his knees buckle and he might have fallen down if Mobius weren’t there to steady him. He extends his arms and Loki instantly grabs them. His heart is beating so fast he’d fear a heart attack if he were human.

“It’s really you.”

Loki hears his own voice crack with relief, and his eyes fill with tears.

“It’s really me.”

Loki didn’t need the confirmation, but it is so on brand for Mobius to give it to him anyway that Loki gets the impulse to throw his arms around him and bury his face in his neck. He tries to resist the impulse for a mere second before giving up entirely and engulfing his Mobius in a (perhaps overly) tight hug.

Mobius wraps his arms around Loki in return, hugging him back. That’s when the tears begin to fall in earnest. Before he knows it, Loki is sobbing uncontrollably in Mobius’ embrace. It’s most undignified and he’s probably ruining Mobius’ shirt, but Loki’s too far gone to care. Anyway, Mobius has seen most of his life when he was working for the TVA, and Loki’s done his fair share of embarrassing things. This is not the worst one, by far.

Being vulnerable is still difficult for him, but he has no control over himself right now, so vulnerability is the only way to go.

*

Mobius has an armful of crying god, and he’s taking it in stride if he does say so himself. He’s been looking for Loki for so long, he’s been through so much to find him that he’s prepared to accept anything Loki throws at him now that they’re finally reunited.

“There, there. It’s going to be okay now.”

Mobius continues to whisper reassurances in Loki’s ear until Loki’s sobs subside. Mobius is loath to break their embrace, but they can’t possibly stay like this much longer considering Loki has looked on the verge of keeling over ever since he got up from the floor of his cell. When he saw him, Mobius had to make a conscious effort to reign in a gasp (the hunters guarding Loki’s cell would have found that mightily suspicious coming from the Mobius he was then pretending to be). Loki is thinner, there are bags under his eyes, and his skin has taken a blueish tint which, rather than being reminiscent of his origins, looks sickly. Now that Loki’s finally safe, Mobius wants nothing more than to take care of him and nurse him back to health.

“We should probably sit down. Would that be alright?”

Mobius can feel Loki nod, but Loki makes no move to separate himself from him.

Okay. Mobius can work around that.

He slowly walks them to the couch without letting go of Loki. They fall on it rather gracelessly, and Loki immediately rearranges himself so he’s lying down with his head face down on Mobius’ lap and one of his hand gripping his knee. He wishes Loki would let him see his face, but it certainly isn’t the time for requests.

Mobius passes the fingers of his left hand through Loki’s messy hair and Loki shivers against him.

“Is this okay?”

Loki’s only reply is a hum. Mobius interprets it as acquiescence, so he repeats the motion again, and again, and again. To comfort himself as much as Loki.

“Do you want something to drink? Or eat?”

Loki’s grip on Mobius’ knee tightens and he whimpers. Mobius’ stomach drops.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I… I’m fine. Just… can we stay here for a while?” Loki’s voice is hoarse and tentative, as if he were expecting Mobius to turn him down. As if it were a credible outcome. Preposterous.

“Of course, anything you want. But, please let me know if you need anything else, alright?”

Loki hums again, and Mobius goes back to playing with his hair.

*

It must be hours before either of them speaks again. Loki’s turned around by now, so he’s facing Mobius while still resting his head on his lap.

“Do you have a bathtub?”

“I do.”

“I could go for a bath… But…”

He’s reluctant to voice his desires. He’s been attached to Mobius as a barnacle to a rock for longer than he can tell, and Mobius must be tired of him by now. Maybe he’s been tired during this entire display of neediness and has only tolerated it for Loki’s sake. Mobius is decent enough that it doesn’t sound particularly far-fetched.

“But what? Go on.”

“Would you… would you mind staying with me while I’m in the bath?”

“Sure.”

Mobius looks unphased, but Loki still needs to ask:

“Are you sure it’s no bother? I know I’m being clingy and…”

Mobius interrupts him:

“Rest assured, you’re only the one clinging to me because you beat me to it. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore than you want to be apart from me.”

Loki frowns, as if facing a puzzle he can’t quite solve.

“Really?”

“Of course. Why do you think I looked for you for months?”

And it makes sense, from an objective point of view. It’s a wonder Loki can’t wrap his head around it.

“Oh” is all he has to say.

“Yeah, oh.”

Loki will wonder later how exactly Mobius managed to rescue him. He’s not strong enough to deal with that conversation at the moment.

“Come on, let’s get that bath running.” Mobius says, sitting up straighter.

Loki gets the message and pulls himself up. He only loses physical contact with Mobius for a handful of seconds before he reaches for his hand and slide his fingers between Mobius’.

They walk to the bathroom hand in hand and Mobius only lets go when Loki has to undress. Mobius looks away until he’s in the bath, hidden by the bubbles. It’s a sweet, if useless (Mobius probably saw Loki naked in countless occurrences on the TVA tapes), gesture.

Loki would ask Mobius to join him if he had the courage. He can’t find it in himself. He’s been bold enough as it is. Besides, it would definitely cross the line. To be honest with himself, he’s not sure this line exists anymore, but he ought to pretend it still does. For Mobius’ sake, if not for his own.

“Can I wash your hair?”

The prospect of Mobius’ gentle hands back in his hair is a pleasant one, to say the least. So, Loki immerses himself in the bath to wet his hair and comes back up, before replying:  

“Please, be my guest”, trying for a teasing smile that probably comes out looking wrong.

*

Mobius returns Loki’s fond smile, relieved to finally see a positive emotion displayed on this beautiful face.

He grabs his bottle of shampoo from the edge of the bathtub and squeezes some of it into his palm. It’s cheap stuff, with a cheap artificial apple scent. Surely not up to Loki’s standards. However, Mobius doesn’t reckon he’ll care after his forced stay in the Alternate-TVA.

When he starts rubbing the shampoo into Loki’s hair, Loki shivers again, and then moans. Mobius puts the reaction in a corner of his brain so he can examine it later. It might be a thing.

Mobius takes his time (which is to say, he takes far more time than is necessary), before he finally requests:

“Bend forward and close your eyes for me, please.”

Loki complies without a second thought, and warmth spread inside Mobius at the display of trust.

“Good boy.” Mobius says it without thinking, as he’s reaching for the hand shower.

Loki tenses up, and Mobius instantly regrets the words. They’re out, though, there’s no calling them back.

Thankfully, before Mobius can go into a full-blown panic caused by his own stupidity, Loki relaxes again, even though his breathing is now laboured.

That’s quite a lot to unpack there. Mobius will make sure to come back to it in the future. Until then, he focuses on rinsing Loki’s hair without making a mess. He then wrings the excess water out of it as gently as he can and grabs a towel from the rack attached to the wall.

He hands it to Loki and looks away again to give him some semblance of privacy. He hears Loki get up and say:

“It’s okay, you can look. I don’t mind.”

Mobius should decline, but he’s too weak. It’s so hard to not keep his eyes on Loki constantly when he has just got him back.

So, Mobius looks at him, and instantly notices Loki’s lower torso is covered in bruises. They’re stark against Loki’s skin, which is now back to its usual paleness, sans blueish tint.

Mobius must have visibly reacted, though he’s not aware of it, because Loki takes a glance down his own body and flinches.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

“Don’t apologize. Not for that.”

Loki’s mouth clicks shut.

*

Once Loki’s dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants (both black, thankfully) that he borrowed from Mobius, he brushes his teeth with a spare toothbrush.

Then, Mobius manages to talk him into eating something and having a cup of herbal tea (camomile), even though it ruins the point of the aforementioned toothbrushing.

What would he not do to appease Mobius and keep him from worrying? Loki prefers not to know.

They retire to bed soon after that, tangling together under Mobius’ fluffy comforter. Loki’s about to fall asleep, lulled by the repetitive motion of Mobius’ fingers running lines on his back, when Mobius speaks:

“I… I know I should let you rest before broaching this topic but… I won’t be able to think about anything else all night if I don’t ask…”

Loki’s tempted to tell him to spit it out, but he refrains, letting Mobius continue at his own rhythm.

“The other me… is he the one who, you know… the bruises?”

“No. He wasn’t particularly nice, but he was never outright cruel to me.” That much could not be said about many other agents of the Alternate-TVA, but Loki refuses to get into that. “Nevertheless, he was… wrong in so many ways.”

Mobius’ hand stops moving up and down his back.

“How so?”

“He was... different. He hated Josta, he didn’t care about jet skis, he was right-handed… He was cold, warier of me than you were, and a bigger stickler for the rules. He… he just wasn’t you.”

His Mobius was everything this other Mobius wasn’t to Loki. He was trustworthy. He brought him hope. Because he had seen Loki, he knew almost everything that could be known about him, and still he believed he could be someone good. The other Mobius had not witnessed any of Loki’s numerous lies and betrayals, and still he trusted him far less than his Mobius did despite every piece of evidence proving he should not.

Loki can’t comprehend the undeserved trust Mobius has for him, but he is grateful it exists.

“He sounds like a jackass.”

Loki lets out a teary laugh.

“He was. Thank you for rescuing me from him.”

“You’re very welcome. I needed it as much as you did, anyway.”

“You’ll tell me how you did it, right? Tomorrow?”

“Anything you want”, Mobius says for the second time that day.

And, by the Norns, does Loki want. He wants so much.

He raises his head from Mobius chest and places his lips on his. He keeps it brief, pulling back before Mobius has time to react. The line is crossed, annihilated. What can Loki say? He’s never been good at denying himself what he wants.

“Was that okay?”

Mobius exhales slowly, his body going lax after tensing up from the surprise.

“More than.”

“Good.”

They stop talking, then. Loki falls asleep in a matter of minutes, hopeful for the first time since Sylvie pushed him through a time-portal to get rid of him. Things are still a mess, but there’s a slight chance they’re going to be fine and, for now, that’s enough.

*

Thanks for reading ;

[astyle-alex]

[FanFic] Start with Why | the Old Guard

Start With Why    (Part 5 / 6)

Fandom: the Old Guard Pairings: Background Nicky x Joe Characters / Focus: OT5 + Copley, reacting to Booker's betrayal Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None (well, language, because the team is quite colorful) Total Word Count: 10,288 Chapter Word Count: 1,305

Summary:

The thing about betrayal is that it hurts. Sometimes it hurts too much to see the broader situation clearly. But after Booker's betrayal, the team has to look at themselves and see how every one of them is culpable. Booker may have done the deed, but his measly 200 years makes him a child to the others, especially Andy, and like babysitters are to blame when their charge sets the curtains on fire, the Family needs to ask themselves WHY and accept the honest answers. Why Copley, Why Merrick, and Why something made Booker believe that his choice was the right one for his Family...

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Part V  ::  NILE 

            Bringing them to Copley feels like leading Dizzy to her first confession— after the bombing that had nearly taken Jay from them.

             It was a revelatory experience, one that truly was religious.

             It was righteous and important, and now, it makes the first bit of fucking sense out of why she is even there when these god damn world-shaping immortals couldn’t possibly need little old South Side Nile Freeman for anything significant.

             Nicky stares and stares like a man standing at Heaven’s Gates.

            He is standing in the presence of a holiness he’d come to doubt over centuries of having his Faith tested— more even, Nile could see that he was realizing exactly how his doubts hadn’t been half as deeply rooted as he’d feared.

            His tears don’t fall and he stands silently, and his shoulders don’t quite shake, but there’s a clear shudder now and then as an age-old tension in him dissipates.

            Watching Nicky almost makes Nile cry.

             But watching him hurts less than watching the others.

             Joe is praying under his breath, to Allah and the very beauty of creation. His fingers run over the strings connecting their small good deeds to the outpouring of good aftermaths that came in the slight delay of consequences.

            He looks at Copley like he can almost understand his brother’s deep betrayal.

             Copley believes in them, in a way they haven’t for a damn long while.

             Copley looks at them like they could make the sun rise on a whim and for someone like Joe to feel the resonance of that Faith… for him to realize it… He knows the depth of his own doubts would be dwarfed by Booker’s, so for him to see the grandeur in this clearly shows him how easily Booker could connect with Copley over the pain of having lost a family and been unable to see a path beyond the hurt…

             But then Andy… Andy can’t keep herself at standing, old girl just falls into a chair like gravity ain’t workin’ right for her.

            “Maybe this is the why, Andy,” Nile pushes, talking with the certainty she’s found in this new sense of purpose flooding through her voice.

             Andy just nods, too lost in all the memories.

             The 150 years or so that Copley has compiled don’t even scratch the surface of the ocean Andy’s sinking through. He looks like he wants to ask for her autograph, but a look from Nile has him nodding with a promise that shows he’s aware she needs time to process.

             And Copley… Nile gets why Booker liked him, he’s a good guy at base who wants to do good. He’s just been a dumbass in how he’s been going about it.

            But grief can do that to a person.

            Not everyone has the strength of Nile’s Mama.

             And Copley paired with Booker… bad idea to worse, with extra alcohol. There’s a damn good reason ordnance are not kept near the barracks, after all.

             For his part, Copley is a god damn champ.

            Doesn’t ask where Booker is, doesn’t blink when a trio of immortals starts to cry and pray and fall. He just states his case for how he values them, for how their work is critical to keeping even the worst of worlds progressing on a more even kind of keel.

             Eventually, Andy looks to Nicky.

            He dips his head— pleading, not acceptance.

            Andy is the one who looks away.

             She flings herself up to her feet and actually gets close enough to read the articles that Copley has connected.

             There’s a straightness in her shoulders that Nile never realized had been missing, a straightness in her spine.

            Nicky looks to Joe— who will not look at him.

            But Nile remembers how her parents used to fight. How Mama had this look that was just plain quelling in a certain slant, and yet could burn through any pretense of ignorance in another. Joe knows his Nicky’s looking, and if Joe knows Nicky’s looking, the battle is already lost for him in pretending he could keep his eyes away.

             When Joe turns, Nicky tips his head.

            Like with Andy, there’s a whole conversation in that stare.

            But so much deeper between lovers.

             Already, Nile can read so much in this trio’s every tiny gesture.

            After another hundred or two hundred or a thousand years… she’ll be just as close to them as they are now among each other.

             The thought is only sorta terrifying.

            Mostly it’s exhilarating.

            She can do so much good with them, more than she ever could with the Marines.

             She can see Joe cave before Joe can feel it— though her recognition comes well after Nicky’s ever-stoic and serene expression twitches towards a smile.

             “Ten days,” Joe says after spouting off a string of curse words in an older form of Arabic than Nile can interpret. “I don’t want to see that fucking traitor’s face for at least ten god damn frickin’ days. And I want a year off before we even think about the possibility of working with that asshole again. You are all fucking saps and bullies and I hate you all. Especially you, Nile, because you are the most annoying little sister in the whole wide world and my heart overflows with a joy so hot it hurts every time I think of how I’m grateful that you are now my Family.”             “I hate how well that sappy shit works for you, jackass,” Nile tells him as she hugs him.

             “It never gets any less annoying,” Andy contributes. “The fact that he pulls it off so well just makes him that much more punchable each time it happens.”

             Then Andromache the Scythian rounds on Copley.

            To his credit, the little ex-spook doesn’t piss himself. He doesn’t even wince.

             If Andy kills him now, he’ll die believing that he served his purpose here on earth.

             Nile knows Andy is neither cruel enough for that, nor kind enough.

            She forgot, briefly, how precious all life is to her— but now she remembers that resolve.

             Her ultimatum to Copley is accepted with true grace. Copley says he would be honored, and Nile honestly believes him.

            He’ll have to be watched, and he’ll be kept far closer than a trusted confidant could roam, but Nile thinks he’ll earn their confidence eventually.

             “Andy,” Nile calls as they head down to the car from Copley’s. “I’m sorry about what I said about you. You’re not a monster. You never were, you just... I was scared… of you and of becoming you because I thought I might forget the me I left behind…”

            Andy turns away before Nile first whole sentence is out.

            Nile honestly doesn’t quite know what compelled her to keep talking.

             “You don’t apologize to Family, kid,” Joe tells her, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

             “But we will listen to any words your heart must speak,” Nicky adds from her other side, nudging lightly into her shoulder. “Andromache just… gets embarrassed easily.”

             “I heard that, you pretentious holy fucker,” Andy gripes loudly, starting the engine with the threat to drive away without them. The others scramble to catch up, and as Nile slides into the backseat, and falls asleep almost immediately, she notes that what she’s feeling is all the awful stress of… everything since her last day in Afghanistan sliding softly away.

             She died in Afghanistan, and that will haunt her (and her birth-family) forever, but she is not, and will never be, alone.

             It’s something she did not realize she was so uncertain of until finding real connection to this collection of ancient, damaged idiots and really felt them pulling close as her new Family.

               Nile falls asleep feeling safe and warm and more hopeful than she has in decades.

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