Beyla - Loki

Wolves' Teeth

Beyla stirred first, her lashes fluttering as the weight of Loki's arm stretched comfortably over her waist. She shifted onto her side, letting her eyes linger on the curve of his cheekbones, the faint twitch of his lips even in sleep. He looked younger-less worn, less scarred, as though the battles that would one day etch themselves into his body hadn't yet touched him. This Loki still belonged to 2012, brash and unscarred by loss.

"You're staring," he mumbled, eyes still closed.

Her hand came up instinctively, brushing her fingertip across his cheek. "No," she whispered, voice softened by affection. "I'm admiring."

That earned her a tiny smile. He cracked one eye open and shifted closer, pulling her snug against his chest. His skin was cool, comforting in a way that stilled her restless thoughts.

"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" she asked, her voice small in the endless hum of TVA machinery.

"We will," Loki said without hesitation, as though speaking it could make it true.

"And then what? I can't return to 2012. There can't be two of me."

He exhaled heavily, pressing a kiss into her hair. "We don't have to think about that right now, love."

The knock came like a blade. "Get up! We've got work to do," Mobius called, the door creaking open just long enough to toss in folded clothes. "I have clothes for both of you. Get ready."

Beyla groaned, rolling off the bunk. She scooped up the clothes, holding them aloft. "Ooo, office man," she teased, tossing Loki his set.

She tugged on the black jeans and TVA-issue gray shirt, smoothing the logo at the pocket. Loki pulled on his outfit with much more dramatic flair, inspecting himself in the small wall mirror.

"Mh. Not bad," he decided.

Beyla slid in beside him, arching a brow. "I do like the pants."

His hand swatted playfully at her backside, a rare grin cracking through his morning grump. "I do as well."

⸻

They ended up at Mobius's desk, Loki pretending to be absorbed in a jet ski magazine while Beyla spun idly in a chair. A chime dinged, and Miss Minutes popped up on the tabletop in a flicker of orange light.

"Okay, y'all, let's review what we've learned. What happens when a nexus event branches past the red line?"

Loki didn't even look up from his magazine. "Very bad things," he deadpanned.

Miss Minutes tapped her cartoon foot. "Come on, Loki! Beyla, what's the answer?"

Beyla straightened in her chair, giving the little projection a polite nod. "It means the TVA can no longer reset the event. The branch becomes permanent."

"Exactly!" Miss Minutes chirped.

"I knew that," Loki grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Boring."

"And what does that lead to?" the clock continued.

"The collapse of reality as we know it," Beyla recited crisply.

"Good job, sugar!"

Loki leaned close to the clock's glowing face, narrowing his eyes. "Are you even alive? Or just a recording?"

Miss Minutes considered. "Uh... sorta both."

"Ah." Loki rolled up the magazine and swatted at her.

"Hey!" she yelped, dodging.

"Loki!" Beyla hissed, half-laughing despite herself.

"Quit it!" Miss Minutes squeaked, zipping away. "Not nice, jerk." She vanished into the computer screen with a huff.