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Chapter Text

Grian had always thought he was rather excellent at coming up with genius schemes. This thought was not one that he kept private, after all, what was the point of creating such wonderful plots if there was no one there to bask in their glory?

That was how he had wound up outside Pearl’s sharehouse with several boxes of tiny rubber ducks. He carefully stacked the boxes on one hand and reached around behind the doorbell for the spare key, clicking it out of its hiding place carefully and letting himself in. He crept through the dining room, eternally grateful that Impulse always had the TV turned up to full volume before sneaking up the stairs into Pearl’s room.

It was Pearl’s own fault, really, for covering the night shift. He began filling her shoes with rubber ducks, Pearl’s hiking boots managed to fit five smaller ducks. He filled her pillowcases. Placed a few on the ceiling fan, balanced precariously on the blades. He filled the pockets of her clothes, both the ones on the floor and in her closet. He was halfway through debating whether or not he wanted to try hiding a few in her bedside lamp - given that he wasn't sure if the lightbulb could melt them (they weren't exactly high quality rubber ducks, his priority had been quantity) when he heard a giggle behind him.

He jumped, turning around slowly to see Pearl’s other roommate, Gem hiding laughter behind her hand.

“Hi Gem,” he said, dragging the words out as he tried to come up with an excuse for what he was doing.

“Hi Grian,” she replied, her eyes dancing. “Watcha doin’?

“Oh, you know . . . interior decorating,” he wondered if it was worth trying to push past Gem to make a break for it, but that’d involve pushing her and if Pearl found out he’d hurt Gem she’d probably kill him.

“I can see that,” she said, laughing again.

“Any chance you wanna forget you saw me?” Grian knew he was caught, the best course of action when getting caught was always to offer the catcher in on the prank.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gem grinned, “I haven’t seen you since movie night last week.” She held out her hand, “Pass me one, I’m on dinner tonight and I’m putting one in her spaghetti if it’s the last thing I do.”

Grian laughed back at that, handing the duck over to Gem without a fight. She wasn’t exactly subtle but she had the spirit. 

“I’ll see you for movie night on Friday.” He said as quietly as he could, slipping out the door behind her and racing out to the street before Gem could give him away to Impulse. 

He ran the two blocks back to his flat giggling like a madman before he opened the door to Mumbo. Oh yeah, the reason he’d decided to prank Pearl instead of hanging out in their flat. 

“Were you being chased or something?” Mumbo asked.

“Or something,” he replied breathlessly. “Went to visit Pearl.”

“I thought she was working tonight.”

“She is.” Grian knew there was no hiding the post prank glee from Mumbo, the man knew him far too well. 

“No explosives?” Mumbo checked.

“No explosives,” Grian promised, he knew Mumbo called Doc every few days to make sure Grian’s firework ban was still in place. The traitor. 

“Alright then,” Mumbo said, going back to his book. That simply wouldn’t stand, Grian grabbed the book before Mumbo could turn around.

“Some of us have exams in two days, Grian,” Mumbo sighed, holding his hand out for the book. 

“I’ll help!” Grian teased, shoving the book under his sweater, “something something structural integrity, something something building, boom! Engineering.”

“That was entirely unhelpful,” Mumbo replied.

“I just shared all the secrets of engineering with you and I get nothing in return?! Oh jail, Jail for Mumbo for one thousand years!” Grain jumped up onto the sofa, still clutching the book under his sweater.

“What if I just said something something arches, something something windows every time you had an exam?” Mumbo asked.

“I’d be thrilled that you’re finally speaking my language,” Grian told him, jumping up to avoid one of Mumbo’s long arms reaching for the book. “I’ll give you-” he laughed, “I’ll give you the book back if you give me another IOU.”

“You must have hundreds of them by now,” Mumbo said, “Fine, where’s the jar?” Mumbo grabbed a sticky note and scribbled down ‘IOU one returned book - Mumbo’, folding it neatly and putting it in the jar that had somehow ended up next to the kettle. He had to really shove it in, the jar was so full already.

“Hey!” Mumbo said, picking the jar up and turning it upside down. “You still have the first one I gave you ‘IOU one carton of milk’. Blimey mate that’s got to be three years old.”

“Well I’m not going to cash them in for just anything.” Grian told him, returning the book, now thoroughly warmed from being next to his skin.

“Right.” Mumbo took the book back, thumbing through it to re-find his page. Grian didn’t stare, he was great at not staring at Mumbo whenever Mumbo’s attention wasn’t on him. He definitely didn’t pay extra attention to the way his eyes narrowed when he read something he hadn't quite understood, or the way he’d unconsciously scratch at his top lip underneath his moustache. And even if Grian did - which he didn’t - he definitely didn’t react. If his heart rate was high that was just from jumping on the sofa earlier, same applied to any redness that might have been on his face. 

So for absolutely no reason whatsoever Grian shook himself and pulled out his sketchbook and a design brief, deliberately not looking across the tiny living room.

Friday came around quickly and with it the due date for Grian’s brief, he liked to think he’d done OK, even if the arched window placement had never seemed quite right. It was a stupid brief anyway, ‘pretend you’ve been approached by Good Times to design a new office space’ as if the single biggest company that employed architects would ask someone else to design their office building. As if the head of the company, Scar Ryan, would accept a build with wonky looking windows. The only blessing was that Friday also meant movie night with Pearl, Gem, and Impulse. 

Leaving his class, he could see Mumbo waiting for him, and if that made him walk a little bit faster that wasn’t anybody’s business. 

“Exam finish early?” He asked.

“I left early,” Mumbo shrugged, “It wasn’t too bad.” Which Grian knew to be Mumbo-speak for ‘it was really easy because I’m super smart but I don’t want to boast’.

Grian would have denied it vehemently if he was asked but he really liked their Friday night routine, Pearl, who worked the Friday afternoon shift at the Bamboo Lounge, would bring home enough food for everyone and they’d talk over whatever movie they had picked and well after it had ended. Sometimes they only left when Pearl and Grian realised their Saturday shifts at the lounge were mere hours away and they desperately needed to shower and get changed. Friday might have been his worst day for classes, assignments always due, but Friday evenings were the best.

“Pearl do you have any idea how hard it is to find a bisexual movie that itsn’t super depressing? I’m just happy no one dies.” Gem was saying as they let themselves in.

“It’s a full on fake relationship to stop a wedding, and -” Pearl saw them and shot Grian a malicious smile, “Grian! I have a present for you.” She raced up the stairs, returning with a poorly wrapped lump.

“I feel very unsafe all of a sudden,” Grian remarked to no-one in particular, removing the wrapping paper to reveal something very soft. He was waiting for the punchline until he saw a crest on the hood, shaking the lump out to reveal a chicken onesie.

“They didn’t have any ducks,” Pearl explained, “And I simply had to thank you for your gift on Wednesday.”

“Pearl I really can’t-” he started to say.

“Nonsense!” Pearl cut him off, “And you have to put it on, otherwise you’d be hurting my feelings.” Pearl pouted melodramatically, throwing an arm around Grian and steering him towards the bathroom so he could get changed.

He stepped out feeling very soft and very embarrassed. Pearl was the first to laugh but the others joined in quickly enough.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Mumbo said and there were tears in his eyes from trying to hold back laughter, “You look properly ridiculous.”

“This is what I get I suppose,” Grian sighed, taking his place on the sofa between Mumbo and Pearl. “What are we watching?” Anything to change the subject from his awful new look.

“Plan B,” Gem said, “Its an Argentinian film about this guy who tries to break up his ex and her fiance by seducing the fiance.”

“Does it work?” Mumbo asked, “Because that sounds like a very round about way of doing things.”

“Well, sort of, they break up but the main character falls in love with the fiance so shenanigans ensue. It’s happy, I promise.” Gem told them.

“If you’re done spoiling everything,” Impulse said from the other end of the sofa, “I’ll grab drinks for everyone who wants them.”

“Ok Impulse but phone away, just because Zed is bored and on call doesn’t mean you should be distracting him.” Gem said, taking Impulse’s phone and handing it to Pearl.

“But Tango’s working tonight and when he’s bored he does stupid things.” Impulse said, appealing to Pearl.

“That’s no different to normal Zed, you can have your phone back when you’re on the sofa and watching the movie.”

The movie was funny, Grian had to give Gem credit, but somewhere around the ruined wedding a scheme started brewing in his mind, the scheme recipe was coming together but a key ingredient was missing. 

Pearl threw a club sandwich as she spoke to Impulse. “I’m just saying that if I had made the movie I would have gone through with the wedding and just left her after I’d gotten all the sweet wedding presents.”

“I don’t think that was the point. It was about-”

“Yeah I know, the power of love and all that. For once I just wanna watch a movie where they’re smart about this stuff and get whatever they can, especially out of the homophobic relatives.”

“Well, when your environmental sciences degree lets you make movies then we can talk.”

Grian ate his club sandwich, wishing he hadn’t caught it so he’d had an excuse to get out of the stupid chicken onesie. His scheme-sense was tingling.

“I’d throw a fake wedding and invite a bunch of billionaires, take all the free stuff and go,” he told Pearl.

“And when they show up to go to your fake wedding, then what?” Pearl asked.

“I imagine billionaires are rather busy doing capitalism things,” Mumbo said before Grian could respond, “They’d probably just send a gift and move on with their lives. That's not a terrible idea actually.”

Pearl winked at Grian and he suddenly felt even more afraid than he had when she’d handed him the chicken onesie. “Well then, Grian looks like you have a partner in crime all set up.”

“Pearl I was just joking,” he said before either he or Mumbo spontaneously combusted.

“Oh yeah? Chicken.” Grian felt his face heat up. “Do it and I’ll trade you, Thursday shift for Sunday.” Pearl said.

“You’ll give up the double pay shift?” Grian was sure he wasn’t hearing this correctly.

“Well I won’t if you’re ‘just joking’,” she said, imitating his accent with infuriating accuracy.

Oh it was on.

Chapter Text

Your crush planning a wedding was supposed to be either a source of great pain or joy depending on whether or not it was going to be your wedding as well. Of course, that would involve actually talking about feelings, something Mumbo suspected he may be highly allergic to. 

So mostly Mumbo tried to ignore Grian as he picked out stationary and fonts for the wedding invitations. Not that Mumbo didn’t enjoy Grian’s pranks, he even liked the silly ones like filling the shampoo bottle with shaving foam. But this was maybe a little below the belt. But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell Grian to stop, he just had to keep reminding himself that this whole thing was a practical joke.

“So which billionaire are you going to invite to your fake wedding?” He asked as neutrally as he could.

Grian’s eyes lit up. “All of them.” He held out a list. It was longer than some of the essays Mumbo has seen him write. 

“How are you sending the invitations?” Mumbo asked.

“Email,” Grian replied, holding up his laptop (held together by duct tape and prayer) to show Mumbo the sheer number of addresses typed into the search bar. The words at the top of the screen were hard to read due to the fancy font Grian had used “April 25 - You are invited”.

“Er-,” that was a lot of email addresses. Some of them, Mumbo recognised the company name, Con-corp, Sahara, Good Times, Octagon, most, he didn’t. He hated that he was curious now. “What do the invitations look like?”

“That's what's so brilliant!” Grian grinned, “All the images load except for the one with my fictional partner's name on it. I’m a genius.”

Mumbo had to admit he was relieved to hear that, he had wondered who Grian was going to rope into this, or if he was just going to make someone up, and neither option had left a good taste in his mouth. 

“I also asked for paypal donations as well as a few useful things on the registry, like an actual TV so we can stop using Impulse’s, or a stand mixer, I’ve always wanted a stand mixer.”

“Grian, we barely cook.”

“Probably because neither of us has a stand mixer.”

“April 25 is a bit away though, isn’t it?”

“People plan weddings years in advance, I’m actually cutting it a bit close with only four months.” Grian sighed but there was a light in his eyes, “of course, it’s a shotgun wedding, because well . . .” He looked at Mumbo, his eyes comically wide, “I’m pregnant.”

Mumbo was genuinely worried he might fall off the sofa trying to hold in his laughter. “Grian you harlot, I’m disappointed in you.” He managed between desperate breaths.

“I know, I know,” Grian said, the back of his hand pressed against his forehead, “but that’s not even the worst part, I sent pictures of my ankles and now they’re all over the internet!”

“Not your ankles, Grian, that’s just too far, what if a child saw them.” Mumbo was laughing so hard his stomach was starting to hurt.

“But I need to get married before that happens and my reputation is ruined! And of course before Mumbo Jr is born.” Grian pointed at Mumbo as if they were in a telenovela, “That’s right, he’s yours!”

“But Grian!” Mumbo said, “You never even showed me your ankles!”

Grian seductively lifted the hem of his track pants, “Oh, you like what you see?”

“Grian!” Mumbo pretended to shield his eyes, which was especially difficult as his hands shook from hysterics.

Grian rolled the leg of his track pants back down, his laughter having subsided to a sort of breathless sigh that Mumbo would set as his text tone if he didn’t think it would be super weird. Ok it was time to calm down, Mumbo took several deep breaths and tried to think about the spreadsheets he was fixing for work, there was nothing funny or sexy about poorly organised data. When he was sure he was calm he looked up and met Grian’s eyes again. Huge mistake. They both dissolved back into silent laughter.

Grian’s phone rang, ruining the moment.

“Hey Keralis,” Grian answered immediately, not about to turn down an extra shift from his boss. “Yeah I can cover.” Grian started tugging socks on.

“Sorry baby daddy,” he called out to Mumbo as he left, the phone fortunately hung up, “duty calls.”

“I won’t wait up.” Mumbo replied, wishing he had something funnier to say. 

And Mumbo was left alone, coming down from the euphoria of Grian’s joking. He looked again at Grian’s wedding invitations, still wide open on the old laptop. Emotions threatened to spill over but Mumbo stamped them down, forcing himself to look away and return to his studies.

The first person who fell for Grian’s prank was Iskall of Sahara, who, of course, bought the stand mixer. Grian walked into their apartment carrying a box half his size and humming the wedding march.

“It’s still three months til the wedding!” Mumbo exclaimed, helping Grian put the mixer on their counter before something was broken (more likely Grian than the stand mixer).

“Well his secretary sounded really stressed in the emails, very apologetic.” Grian pulled out his phone, scrolling absently, “Oh, someone sent a paypal donation, we can replace that flickery lightbulb in the laundry!”

There were a few moments like that; Grian would pull out his phone and tell Mumbo they could finally hire the mould people to inspect the ominous patch above their kitchen, or that they could get the good peanut butter instead of the generic brand. For someone Mumbo had always thought of as deeply irresponsible, Grian was very smart about how he spent the new money, stocking up their first aid cabinet (which before had just been a box of bandaids and some dettol), buying groceries in bulk so they saved money in the long run. Logically, Mumbo knew Grian wasn’t reckless with money, they had been roommates since their undergraduate days after all, but the foresight he was showing really was impressive.

It was a good thing too, as Mumbo’s Masters was coming up to its end and every few days he seemed to have some assessment or quiz, so he was cutting back hours at his work.

Mumbo was studying for yet another exam when Grian came home on a chilly February night looking like he was going to be sick.

“You alright, mate?” Mumbo asked.

“Yeah? Fine.” Grian was looking through the pile of nonsense on their kitchen counter, sweeping old bills onto the floor without a second thought. Mumbo watched him, his hand inching towards his phone, Pearl’s number already running through his head, just in case he needed back up for whatever mental breakdown Grian seemed to be having.

Grian sagged with relief as he found the thing he was looking for turning to face Mumbo, grim determination evident in the set of his jaw. It was the jar. Mumbo wondered if it was too late to run.

Grian pulled the notes out and there had to be thousands of them. “IOU one dinner - Mumbo.”; “IOU seven hours of study quizzes - Mumbo.”; “IOU new toothpaste - Mumbo.”; “IOU one laundry liquid - Mumbo.” They just kept coming. Thousands of them, from the milk to the textbook.

“So,” Grian said, sounding more evil than Mumbo had ever heard him (and Mumbo had listened to a LOT of Grian’s evil speeches), “I think we can agree you owe me at least one big favour.”

“Dude . . .” Mumbo said, trying to convey as much warning as he could. Grian threw a fistful of the notes at him. “Dude!”

“How would you like to repay all your debts at once?” Grian asked and Mumbo had to remind himself that this was serious, Grian was having a full on mental breakdown and it was not the time for his mind to be in the gutter. 

Grian tossed Mumbo his phone, an email wide open. ‘RE: Invitation, RSVP 1, Scar Ryan.’ Oh bollocks.

“I see what you’re doing and I don’t like it one bit,” Mumbo said, pushing the phone away from him like it was a bomb.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” Grian gestured to the thousands of pieces of paper scattered around him. “You owe me.”

“I don’t know that I owe you a marriage, you’d need at least three times as many IOUs.” Mumbo was grasping at straws and he knew it.

“It’s not a real wedding,” Grian pointed out, “Just a quick ceremony and we get a brand new TV and maybe our student loans paid off while we’re at it.”

That was . . . really tempting actually. Mumbo faltered for a moment, reaching for some good reason not to say yes. The only one he could think of was emotional and well, Mumbo was allergic to emotions.

“Ask me properly,” Mumbo heard himself say, ok maybe some of the emotions had escaped, he did his best to shove them back into the cage at the back of his mind where they lived.

Grian gave Mumbo an unreadable look followed by his usual cheeky grin, reaching into his pocket.

“Mumbo,” Grian sank onto one knee in front of the couch. “Will you marry me?”

“Is that a ring pop?”

“Maybe,” Grian said, “Is that a no?”

“Give me the ring pop, you spoon.” Mumbo ordered. “Twisted berry blast, good choice.” He was definitely rambling to distract from how furiously he was blushing. This had to be the single most ridiculous situation Mumbo had ever found himself in.

Chapter Text

Scar shuffled uncomfortably into the limousine, the door closing automatically behind him. He grabbed the water bottle Cub kept in the back for him and downed it in one go.

“Why hello Cub, long time no see.” Scar winced a little at how raspy his voice sounded, the hospital air conditioning had been harsh on his throat.

“Next time you wanna give me a heart attack, Scar, can you please wait until after the board meeting?” Cub said, replacing the water bottle without taking his eyes off the road. 

“Sorry, I’ll do my best to schedule my body-related breakdowns around your busy schedule. How was the board?” Scar asked.

“Everything was fine, asked about you.”

“I’m sure they missed me terribly,” Scar replied, deadpan. “Did you bring my laptop?”

“Absolutely not,” Cub said, using what Scar liked to call his parenting voice. 

“Cuuuub,” he whined, “Do you have any idea how many unread emails I must have?”

“Yes, I took care of all the urgent ones, there’s less than 30 left for you to take care of which you can do tomorrow.” Cub’s tone was just daring Scar to challenge him.

“Thanks Cub, remind me to give you a pay rise.” Scar said, redrawing the line, they weren't family. Scar did his best not to think about the fact that he employed the only person he could trust to pick him up from the hospital. Nope, that thought was staying at the back of his old noggin. 

The thing was, Scar wasn’t lonely, he had Jellie, also Bdubs and Cub. And yes, one of them was a cat another was his PA/Parental figure, and the third his COO, but was that really so terrible? Was it sad that the only people who had cared that he was in hospital were a bunch of Good Times Executives, most of whom he couldn’t even name?

Scar focused on the sound of the engine, pressing his head against the window so it rumbled all the way into his bones. He was fine, he reminded himself. He was going home and he was going to see his cat and everything was going to be ok.

Cub pulled up outside the villa, that was a relief, just because he had a bed in his office didn’t mean he wanted to use it. Scar wheeled himself up the front steps, cheerfully assuring Cub that he could get himself to bed without any problems. 

Scar was tired down to his bones but he was so relieved to be home where it was warm and where he knew Jellie was that he couldn’t bring himself to go to sleep just yet. He found Jellie lounging in the hammock at the top of her cat tree, she made the lovely cat start-up noise when she saw him. “Mrrp?”

“Hey Jellie, did you miss me?” Scar reached his hand up and let her sniff it, completely failing to suppress his delighted gasp as she began to purr. “That’s my good Jellie, I missed you too.” Now he just needed to shower, he’d been wearing the same clothes since he’d been admitted three days ago and while he’d had access to a shower, putting on the same dirty clothes afterwards had somewhat undone all the good those showers had. 

Scar had been home for well over an hour before the siren song of his bed finally claimed him. Jellie curled up against his feet and he smiled to himself. Scar has a great many reasons to be sad, but in that moment, he was home in his own bed, with his best friend and faithful companion, which was really all he needed for the sadness to be defeated.

The sun was already high in the sky by the time Scar woke up, only really waking because Jellie had decided it was time for him to feed her, she gave him an indignant sniff as he pulled himself into his wheelchair as if to say ‘what took you so long?’

“I know, I know,” he told her as he took his meds, “I’m sorry, I was very tired.” Jellie considered his excuse for a moment, which was long enough for Scar to wheel over to her food bowl and pour out some food, which was enough for Jellie to forgive him properly.

Cub was as good as his word and when Scar logged into his emails for the day there were only 34 waiting for him. He skimmed over the minutes from the board meeting, carefully checking for anything sneaky of embezzlement-y that anyone might be trying. Scar had been much happier with his job when it had just been designing things for his parents. Before the jet accident had made him CEO and worth billions of dollars. There was the obvious part, he missed his parents, but there was also the knowledge that someone as ‘fragile’ - as Kyle Dennis, head of accounting, had always put it - as him had never been intended to inherit the company.

Though what did Kyle even know really, Scar was doing OK, and he knew it. Mostly thanks to Cub of course, and Bdubs who did most of the day-to-day stuff so Scar could continue to design buildings and do the actual work. He wasn't even sure what most of the people his parents had employed on the board did, all he’d ever seen them do was look at spreadsheets and frown.

Scar’s phone rang.

“Hello there Bdubs, how are you?” Scar asked his Chief Operations Officer.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Bdubs replied.

“Please don’t, I don’t want to have to lie to you.”

“We just heard back from the Gallery, they want you to design the new building. Do you still have those drafts that we didn’t use for the Swedish Museum?”

“Yeah, but a gallery in Chicago and the Stockholm Museum have completely different needs and build palettes, “ Scar protested.

“You can adjust them, no need to come up with a whole set of new designs for this.” Bdubs told him.

“Nice try Bdubs, you’re getting new designs and you’re going to like them.” Scar could already feel the inspiration hitting him, this was gonna be fun.

“OK, OK, I surrender to you, oh supreme overlord.” Bdubs laughed into the phone.

“I’ll start on it as soon as I’ve gotten through these emails,” Scar promised.

“Or, and I’m just putting this out there, you could rest and take it easy for a bit.”

“Very funny,” Scar laughed, “I should have them to you by tomorrow.”

“If I get a call from Cub telling me that you’ve wound up falling asleep at your computer again I’m going to be very upset.” Bdubs said.

“I make no promises.” Scar replied before handing up and returning to work.

There were a few reviewed designs which needed adjusting, Scar enjoyed the challenge of pushing the boundaries of what a building was while still making the space usable and accessible, and appreciated the feedback the people who would actually be using the buildings gave him, even if they had a tendency to shut down some of his more exciting ideas. 

Jellie had just settled herself comfortably on his lap and was cleaning her paw delicately when Scar came to the last email. A wedding invitation? That was new. Scar’s only real friends were two men in their forties and the cat on his lap. Who would invite him to their wedding?

He scrolled down the invitation and found the location (not that far, he wouldn’t even have to leave the state) and the names of the people. Well, one of them anyway, the jpeg for the second name was refusing to load. He googled this ‘Grian’ and found a few social media accounts. They hadn’t gone to school together that was certain, he was clearly from the UK, studying in the US. He was studying a Masters of Architecture, so maybe he was a fan? That sounded more likely, even if it was weird to think about the fact that he had fans. 

Scar smiled to himself and responded with an RSVP. Despite what an exasperated Cub would say after picking Scar up off the floor at 3am, Scar wasn’t stupid. He’d had people reach out to him over money stuff before. And yeah, Scar knew it was unethical to hold onto billions of dollars. He had set up charities as quickly as he could, but Good Times seemed to generate money faster than he could spend it and the board were violently against him spending any more of what they saw as their money. There had been people, especially after his parents had passed, who had tried to get close to Scar, support workers and the like, who had just been out to get some of his inheritance. Cub and Bdubs had sorted that out, and no doubt would again if the need ever arose, rolling their eyes at him the whole time.

So, the way Scar saw it the risk in accepting the invitation was small, he’d spend some money that he could afford to lose and get lectured by Cub and Bdubs for a bit, or he could make some new friends; friends that were his own age and species. 

Chapter Text

By some miracle, Grian had managed not to spill any of the twenty-seven drinks he had taken over to any of the tables he was waiting. It was just over a week until his and Mumbo’s wedding and his anxiety was running at levels not seen since he was a teenager. His hands shook violently with every step he took.

Putting one foot in front of the other was as much as Grian’s anxiety would allow. The wedding had the audacity to not simply plan itself so he had delegated a lot of that to Pearl, who was the one ‘marrying’ them. She’d found a nearby park that didn’t get too busy and had borrowed some outdoor chairs and a folding table from Impulse’s parents . Pearl, Gem, and Impulse had also volunteered to make all the food, so that was one less thing to panic about. But somehow none of that undid the knot of worry that had tied itself around Grian’s chest.

It was like he was trapped in that strange stage between sleep and wakefulness where he was aware of everything that was happening, but he couldn’t quite move. Like he’d suddenly become aware of how fast the Earth was spinning every second. Without Pearl he would have broken down weeks ago, but she’d simply scooped all of his problems up like they were nothing, like being human for Grian as well as for herself was no extra work. He swore Pearl could walk into any building holding a clipboard and people would just do whatever she said, she just had that air of competence.

Naturally it was Pearl who gently tapped Grian on the shoulder and pointed out Keralis’ waving him over to the tables behind the dance floor. Before this whole mess the sight of his boss beckoning him over would have set his mind racing: was he being fired? Had he broken something expensive that needed replacing? But these days he was so filled with worry there simply wasn’t room for any more.

“Why hello there, I believe I’m in town for your wedding.” Came a voice from behind Keralis.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit. Scar smiled up at him from his wheelchair and only the shock freezing Grian to the spot prevented him from spilling the contents of his tray on him. Scar was seriously good looking, the kind of good looking that should frankly have been illegal. His smile was so genuine that he must have had the opposite of ‘resting bitch face’, what would that even be? Energetic friend as-face. Yeah. Face. He had the sense to put the tray down. 

“Honestly, Grian, I’m a little hurt, you didn’t even tell me you were getting married, let alone invited me,” Keralis said, and while Grian knew he was joking he still felt bad. Keralis was the nicest boss he’d ever had, he knew that Pearl and Grian were international students and made sure they knew they could call him at the drop of a hat for all their supplementary parenting needs. If it had been Grian’s real wedding he would have been invited in a heartbeat.

“Er-” Grian began, hoping his mouth would start forming real words any second now.

“Of course you’re invited!” Pearl said, making Grian sag with relief. “I reckon your invite just got stuck under the million and six piles of paper sitting on Grian’s kitchen counter, I’ll forward you the digital one now.”

Was Pearl probably making things worse? Yes. Grian was going to have to start a notebook of all the lies he’d been telling and to whom just to keep up with it all. But Pearl was talking which meant he didn’t have to be, so he was grateful nonetheless.

“So,” Scar said, his crooked smile warm, “who’re you getting married to? It didn’t quite load on my invitation.”

Right. That. “Oh, yeah, we didn’t realise it had glitched until it was too late.” He lied. “It’s Mumbo.”

“The guy with the moustache who picks you up after late shifts?” Keralis asked, “You said he was your roommate.”

“Er yeah. One of my old bosses found out that I was er-” Grian flicked his wrist, “and threw a fit. By the time I realised you weren’t like that I felt like it was too late to tell you.”

“So how long have you two been together?” Scar asked. And Grian had to remind himself these were normal questions to ask a person who just got engaged.

“Three years,” Pearl said, smiling. “Back when we lived in the dorms they were assigned as roommates to each other and the rest is history.”

“Yeah,” Grian agreed, “I reckon they only paired us up because we were both from England, but it worked out for the best.” See, why couldn’t he lie more like Pearl? She was able to weave elements of the truth into her version of events so easily.

“Aw,” said Scar, “That’s really sweet ‘roommates by bureaucracy, friends by choice, lovers by fate’ you could make a movie out of that.”

Grian looked down at his shoes, no one was safe to look at. “Um, thanks?” He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, but it had, even to his own ears.

He looked back up once he was sure he could without turning redder than he no doubt already was. Ok that was a mistake. Scar’s eyes were really green. No, he was braver than this; he’d put a whoopee cushion on his ‘modern architecture’ professor’s chair right before their final for pity’s sake, he could handle making eye contact with one of his heroes for a few minutes. Yes, even if said hero was looking at him kindly with his warm smile and stupid perfect face.

“Thank you, by the way, for coming to the wedding” he said, even if speaking felt like chewing glass, “I’m studying my Masters of Architecture and I really admire your work. I really just invited you on the off chance . . .” Yeah, that was enough words, it was safe to just trail off.

“No, the pleasure is all mine,” Scar insisted and Grian had to forcibly eject his mind from the gutter just from Scar saying the word ‘pleasure’. 

“Well, thanks anyway,” Grian insisted back, “it means a lot.” And it would have, if this was Grian’s real wedding and not a sham he’d concocted on Pearl’s sofa, dragging Mumbo along into this mess like the piece of human garbage he was.

Pearl wrapped his hand in hers. “It was great to meet you,” she told Scar, “But Keralis doesn’t pay us to stay and chat.” Grian was so grateful for Pearl, maybe he should find a way to get her a stand mixer. “But put your number in my phone and I’ll let you know when we’re doing pre-wedding stuff if you wanna come.” Ok nevermind, Pearl was the worst. He still let her drag him back to the kitchen.

“You should’ve seen your face,” she laughed as quietly as she could.

“It’s not that funny,” Grian replied.

“I can assure you it is. Were you not expecting him to be hot or something?” Pearl said, returning his tray to him. 

“Shut up!” Grain whisper-yelled, “I just wasn’t expecting him to be here.”

“So you do think he’s hot.” Pearl grinned triumphantly. Grian didn’t dignify that with a response. Because Pearl didn’t deserve one, definitely because he couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t dig this hole he’d found himself in any deeper.

He dropped off table 5’s long-awaited drinks, giving up any hope for a tip as they’d definitely seen him talking to Keralis and Scar and he couldn’t muster up the courage to explain that Keralis was his boss and he couldn’t exactly have ignored him. It didn’t help that they were probably right to hate him, even if their reason for doing so was wrong.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and quickly ducked behind the kitchen to check it. It was from Mumbo. That helped a bit actually. Mumbo hadn’t let things get weird between them after his ridiculous ring-pop proposal. 

‘Hey husband-to-be, Pearl just said Scar showed up at your work? You still want me to pick you up? - Mumbo’

No matter how many times Grain had explained that caller ID worked in his phone and he could tell the message was from Mumbo without him having to say it was from him every single time, Mumbo still insisted on signing off all of his texts that way. At this point, if he ever didn’t do it, Grian would assume he’d been replaced by an alien, or a robot, or an alien robot before accepting that maybe Mumbo had realised that Grian knew where the texts were coming from.

‘Yes pls. U want sticky date pud or key lime pie?’ 

‘Pudding please - Mumbo.’

Laughing to himself, Grian went to go grab some sticky date pudding from the kitchen, forcing air into his lungs as he remembered what it was like to feel, not no worry, but slightly less terror at the thought of pretend marrying Mumbo.

Chapter Text

Mumbo supposed he was grateful for Impulse and Pearl’s warning texts. The fact that Scar, CEO of Goodtimes and guest to his and Grian’s fake wedding, would be at their regular movie night was better prepared for than otherwise. Mumbo just wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that information. He’d tried bringing it up with Grian the night before. He’d stared at his phone for a good half an hour before deciding to rip the bandage off and just ask Grian what he was expecting of him.

“Grian, how are we supposed to act at movie night tomorrow?” He really needed to know, this wasn’t exactly a position that any of his past experiences had prepared him for.

“Did Pearl text you? About Scar, I mean,” Grian said.

“Yeah, Impulse too.” Mumbo replied, putting his phone down so he could give Grian his full attention.

“Right, er-,” Grian paused, “I guess we’ll just have to act couple-y.”

“What does that mean, though?” Mumbo did better with specific instructions. “D’you mean, like, kissing and stuff?”

“I suppose, yeah.” Grian said, pulling his laptop onto his lap and plugging his headphones in. Right. Mumbo guessed that was the end of that conversation.

So they walked over to Gem, Impulse, and Pearl’s in silence, which Mumbo normally wouldn’t have minded but this whole situation just seemed to make everything worse. But calling it out wasn’t exactly an option. What was he supposed to say: ‘hey Grian, I’m sorry the idea of being with me is this repulsive to you, I’ll just leave.’? It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. He joked about it as much as he could, because that was talking about it without really talking about it, and sometimes Grian would give him his mischievous smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners like they did when he’d just thought up some new prank. 

Those moments gave Mumbo the same heady rush that solving particularly difficult circuit design problems, or when his contraptions whirred to life, working perfectly for the first time. But they disappeared as quickly as they came with Grian, who would retreat behind his eyes and close the curtains at the window to his soul, leaving Mumbo confused in his wake.

Grian let them into the sharehouse as if on autopilot, Mumbo considered grabbing him as he went to open the door, to tell him that they didn’t have to do this, they could just tell everyone they were sick or something, he was already reaching out for Grian when Grian reached back for him and took his hand. He could hear Grian taking steadying breaths and did his best to match them. He wrapped his other hand around his and Grian’s, trying to warm up Grian’s freezing fingers. How he managed to be so cold even in the middle of Spring was beyond him.

Grian offered him a weak smile and laugh before he opened the door. The hallway was less crowded than usual, shoes didn’t litter the floor haphazardly, which Mumbo realised meant Scar was already there, as a wheelchair would only just have been able to fit through the narrow hallway if everything was removed from the floor. 

“Why hello Grian!” said an unfamiliar voice from the kitchen. Mumbo let Grian pull him around the corner. “And this must be Mumbo! I would say I’ve heard all about you but these rapscallions have been very tight-lipped.”

Mumbo recognised Scar, of course he did, it wasn’t as though he lived under a rock , he had access to Google and the news. But photos didn’t capture the way he practically exuded excitement, his smile looked real and friendly and also yes, Mumbo wasn’t above admitting that he was incredibly handsome. He was made all the more so by the fact that on his lap, a cat resided in a harness that seemed to be attached to the chair somehow. Scar was absently running his hand over the cats back and if Mumbo focused his ears over the din of general kitchen noises he swore he could hear a faint purr.

“Who is this?!” Grian exclaimed, racing over to the cat who made the cat start-up noise and looked him over.

“Oh this is Jellie,” Scar said, scratching under the cat’s chin. “I couldn’t possibly leave her at home all by herself.” Jellie made a smug sort of meow as if to agree with Scar, after all, she was far too precious to just lounge about in a hotel all day.

“She’s perfect,” Grian breathed, “Can I pet her?”

Mumbo watched Grian coo over the cat. He had the same reaction to every cat, but Mumbo had already made the mistake once of pointing out that all cats couldn’t possibly be perfect. He still wasn’t sure where Grian had found so many cat-themed nick-nacks, nor how he’d managed to hide them inside everything from his alarm clock to the soap dispenser in their bathroom. 

“What’re we watching tonight?” he asked Impulse, grabbing drinks for himself and Grian. It took him a moment to register that getting Grian’s drink was probably a good way to convince Scar of their relationship, he just usually did if they arrived together.

“Thanks Mumbo,” Grian grinned up at him as he scratched behind Jellie’s ears. Mumbo was going to have to consider letting Grian get a cat if it made him this happy. Of course the main issue would be their landlord, but she’d always liked Mumbo so he could probably convince her. . . No, this was not a productive train of thought.

He took his usual spot on the couch, realising that he hadn’t even heard Impulse telling him what movie they were watching. He really needed to sort himself out, he was being such a pants friend.

Grian dropped himself unceremoniously into Mumbo’s lap and he heard a snigger and the sound of a phone locking from Pearl which meant that she must have been filming secretly. Which was fine because Mumbo definitely didn’t let out an embarrassingly high pitched squeak and even if he did - which would have been completely justified because GRIAN WAS SITTING ON HIS LAP - Pearl would never be cruel enough to hold onto such footage . . . Right?

Either fortunately or unfortunately, Mumbo wasn’t sure, his attention was captured by Grian who looked to be doing his best to hold back laughter as he smiled up at him. Right, couple-y, Mumbo could do couple-y.

He grabbed Grian’s hands in his own once again. “How are your hands always so cold?” He asked. Grian shrugged and snuggled closer into Mumbo as if he was trying to steal his warmth. Mumbo ordered his heart to go back to beating at a normal pace and returned to gently running his hands over Grian’s.

“Oh, Castle in the Sky! I love this movie!” Scar exclaimed as he looked at the TV.

“Me too!” Gem grinned, “Isn’t studio Ghibli great?”

Grian leant up from Mumbo’s chest to look at Pearl, who’s turn it had been to pick the movie. “Whipped.” Grian said, laughter in his voice.

Pearl quickly looked over at Gem to make sure she was talking to Scar and not listening to their conversation. She snorted at Grian and made a general hand gesture at the two of them as if to say “If that’s whipped then what do you call this?”

“We’re engaged,” Mumbo pointed out, and boy was that weird to say aloud, “It’d be darn weird if we weren’t.”

“OK,” Pearl said to Mumbo in a tone that made it clear that she wasn’t actually agreeing with him at all. “So you can be all sappy and romantic, but he proposed to you with a ring-pop so Grian is hardly the be all and end all of romantic advice.”

“A ring pop, really?” Scar had turned to look at them.

“Twisted berry blast is a very romantic flavour of ring pop actually,” Mumbo said, just to dig Grian’s grave a little deeper.

“Well it’s not like I could’ve gotten you a real ring, not unless you want to eat beans on Toast for a month.” Grian defended himself without moving off Mumbo in any way.

“That’s awful Grian!” Scar said. Jellie, who had been resting contentedly on Scar’s lap meowed in agreement.

“Good idea, Jellie,” Scar said, “I’ll take you guys to get rings tomorrow.”

“You really don’t have to,” Mumbo spluttered because that felt way too much like taking advantage of the man.

“No really, it’s my treat.” Scar said.

“Th-thats really generous of you,” Grian said, and Mumbo could have sworn he was trying to hide his face in Mumbo’s jacket. “But that's too much to ask of you.”

“You didn’t ask, I offered.” Scar pointed out, “Besides, I’m having a great time watching one of my favourite movies with you all, just think of it as a thank you.”

Grian pulled himself out of Mumbo’s jacket and looked Mumbo in the eyes, Mumbo wasn’t sure what Grian was searching for in his expression but Grian looked to ridden with guilt and anxiety that Mumbo would have given anything just to know what he needed to do in that moment to help. Grian swallowed and took a deep breath before turning back to Scar.

“You’re not going to let us win this argument are you?” Grian said.

“Not a chance.” Scar smiled his crooked smile at both of them and Mumbo could feel his cheeks warming. Between Scars smile and the fact the Grian leaning up had brought his face mere centimetres from Mumbo’s own he didn’t know where to even begin processing everything happening around him.

What definitely didn’t help the way his head was spinning was Grian leaning forward and kissing him. It felt like being zapped by an uninsulated wire, like his brain had short circuited and his body was acting without input from his brain because by the time Mumbo’s thoughts had caught up with the situation he realised that he was kissing Grian back. No! He told himself, this was just  for Grian’s scheme, it wasn’t right for him to enjoy it or pretend it was anything more than it was. Even if it was the first time he had ever kissed Grian for real and not in his own mind. No! He ordered himself again, but he didn’t have the strength to pull away.

Not until Impulse dumped a glass of water over both of them. “What?” Impulse said innocently, “You two clearly needed to cool off.”

Grian flipped Impulse the bird before snuggling back down onto Mumbo’s chest as Mumbo prayed to whatever god might be listening that his heart rate would return to normal before Grian noticed anything.

Chapter Text

Scar had had more fun at movie night that he could remember having for a long time. It was strange, he thought, how addictive human interaction could be. The buzz of energy he’d gotten from spending time with Grian, Mumbo, Pearl, Gem, and Impulse thrummed just underneath his skin even a day later. The paranoid voice in the back of his mind that was afraid he was being used (the voice sounded suspiciously like Cub) hadn’t quieted, but it was quickly being drowned out by the euphoria of spending time with people who weren’t paid to be there.

Pearl especially had been really helpful, she had this sort of no-nonsense practical kindness to her that was just really refreshing. She’d run him through everything she’d put together as Grian and Mumbo’s unofficial wedding planner and celebrant, making a point to include him in everything.

“Now the park is mostly flat but there are a few steps up to the barbecue area so I’ll have Impulse’s boys put together a ramp up. 30 degree elevation is the bare minimum for wheelchairs, right?” Pearl had said, looking up from her notebook at him.

Scar waited longer than he ought to for the punchline. He was fully expecting her to promise to bring some food down for him on the grass or something, that was what people usually did, at least for the first five minutes until they forgot about him while they went off and socialised. “Uh, yeah, 30 degrees is fine.” He said, maybe a little embarrassed by the way his voice cracked with excitement.

“Awesome,” Pearl replied, turning back to her notebook, “are you any good at ping pong? There’s a free table at the park and these losers won’t play with me anymore.”

“Um, I will absolutely destroy you at ping-pong.” Grian had chimed in from the couch, only to be pulled down by Mumbo.

“Absolutely not,” Mumbo said.

“You two are banned from ping pong until the council has repaired the swing set and you’ve both had tetanus shots.” Gem said with finality.

“Ok so I guess we’ll have to sneak out.” Scar had whispered to Pearl who’d grinned back at him. Scar wasn’t used to being in on the jokes, he hoped he wasn’t intruding. But Pearl was smiling and planning to go play ping pong with him with a competitive gleam in her eyes. Scar wondered if he should ask Impulse or Gem to come with them, just to make sure she didn’t kill him with a well aimed hit. But that would have to wait another 24 hours, he’d promised to take the lovebirds ring shopping and that was exactly what he was going to do.

He had the driver pull up outside the block of flats when Grian and Mumbo lived. It was one of those awful 1970s blocky concrete monstrosities, Grian had Scar’s deepest sympathies for his fellow architect having to live in such a place. As if the building’s sins weren’t already damning, it also had the audacity to lack elevators, forcing Scar to wait out the front. He scritched absently under Jellie’s chin as he watched the door. He ignored the anxiety curling in his gut that they wouldn’t appear, that he was overstepping or pushing too hard in his desperation for friends.

Still, he felt his shoulders fall in relief when he saw Grian and Mumbo walk through the front door. 

“Why hello there!” Scar said, rolling down the window.

“Were you waiting long?” Mumbo asked apologetically. 

“Not at all,” Scar lied. “Get in losers, we’re going shopping.”

“Was that a Mean Girls reference?” Grian raised his eyebrows at Scar.

“Maybe,” Scar replied, drawing the word out.

They sat in the two remaining seats in the back, one having been removed so Scar’s wheelchair could be strapped into the void where it had once been. Their faces were pinched and drawn, which Scar supposed made sense, their wedding was under a week away and Scar had watched enough romantic comedies to know that wedding planning was stressful. Still, Scar didn’t want them to be anxious, he wanted them to be happy, he wanted them to laugh and banter with him like they had with their friends. There was just one tiny problem, he wasn’t entirely sure where to begin. Not that that had ever stopped him before, it's just that he really wanted Grian and Mumbo to like him and the stakes felt higher than he was used to. He didn’t want them to like salesman Scar or face of the company Scar. He wanted them to like Scar who’d forget his own head if it wasn’t attached, Scar who would spend three days staring at the wall of a building because something was off and he couldn’t specify why, Scar who’d forget to sleep when he was really into a design project only to crash and crash hard the moment it was over. And the only living creature who liked all those Scars was currently purring in his lap.

Jellie gave a little ‘mrrrrp’ of awareness, like she somehow knew he was struggling to order his mind. He ran his hand down her back, the soft fur calming him like it always did.

“So, er, where exactly are we going?” Mumbo asked.

“Not that we aren’t grateful,” Grian added, “but you are sitting there stroking your cat like a Bond villain so we just want to make sure we aren’t being held for ransom or anything.”

That made Scar grin. “Holding you for ransom would be fun,” he told them, trying not to make the comment sound dirty even though it certainly was. He’d almost forgotten about Scar who flirted because he didn’t really know how else to interact with people and also because it was funny to remind others that disabled people fuck too, it was nice to see that Scar again, “but I can’t admit to kidnapping you if you don’t even have proper engagement rings. I mean really, what would people think?”

“Naturally,” Mumbo replied and it was hard to tell if the corners of his mouth were turning up under the moustache, but Scar thought it sounded like they were. “But that isn’t exactly the best way to get us - your victims - to leave agreeably.”

“Mumbo we agreed we weren’t going to mention the Stockholm syndrome,” Grian faux whispered, pretend shock evident in every inch of him save the hand that was tucked into Mumbo’s.

“Oh no, two kind and handsome young men want to spend time with me, whatever shall I do?” Scar replied, mirroring Grian’s sarcasm. Smirking a little as they both blushed. Aw they were really quite adorable.

Of course that was when the car came to a halt, just as Scar was starting to have fun. They pulled up at a strip mall, one of those old 1930s ones with a two-storey brick plaza with pokey little shops that sold nothing you needed but everything you wanted.

“This jeweller has been here nearly ninety years,” He told Grian and Mumbo, “I always think it's better to go with experts who know their craft but if you want something flashy we can always try Cartier.”

“Here is fine, thank you,” Mumbo said quickly. Scar suspected that would work on them, he knew he was overstepping by buying the rings for them, but it was just so sad to him that two people so in love couldn’t have the nice things they deserved while the assholes on the Good Times board got to buy their 32nd yacht or whatever it was they did with their billions.

Scar greeted Xisuma with a friendly wave, he’d met the jeweller through Keralis and was sure they’d be able to find something that suited Mumbo and Grian here. Xisuma waved back, his eyes looked enormous through the jeweller’s glasses he wore for fine detail work. And of course, Scar had called ahead, he wasn’t a complete monster.

“I know you!” Grian said, “You’re Ex-eye-zoomer, you’re a friend of Keralis’.”

“That I am,” Xisuma said before explaining to Scar, “He got my name wrong on an order once and has been doubling down ever since.”

“That does sound like Grian,” Scar replied, because he could absolutely picture that exact situation. He couldn’t help but smile fondly at Grian, trying and failing not to notice Mumbo wearing the exact same expression.

“Well based on Scar’s call I prepared a board for you both,” Xisuma said to Mumbo, apparently deciding he was the sensible one of the pair. He pulled out a foam board with perhaps ten rings on it, each of them finely detailed. Scar left them to ooh and ah over the rings, he was just the wallet in this situation, after all. He told himself the dull ache he felt at the thought was just the years of paranoia Cub had taught him.

But it wasn’t, was it? Grian and Mumbo held out their choice to him and he could barely hear the words they were saying. Scar had always been generous to a fault, and he hated, more than anything, that his generosity had become a negative trait in the eyes of his board and his staff. He wanted people to look at him with gratitude and he wanted so badly to be able to reply with ‘of course’ as if he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. But that wasn’t the world he lived in, so he smiled and nodded and handed over his black Amex to Xisuma without failing. He watched as Xisuma engraved a small feather into the larger ring and a moustache into the smaller one, which explained why Grian was cackling maniacally in the corner.

“I’ll catch up with you,” he said as Grian pulled Mumbo to the door.

“Thanks,” Scar told Keralis.

“That’s a real sweet thing you’re doing there.” Xisuma replied.

“They deserve it,” Scar said immediately, “True love doesn’t happen every day.”

“It does if you’re them.” Xisuma pointed out.

“That's exactly it though, isn’t it? This is how I thank them for letting me bask in it.” Scar said.

“I’m sure a simple thank you would have sufficed, not that I don’t appreciate the business.” Xisuma offered Scar a smile that Scar returned, pushing through the brittleness until it was a real smile.

“I’ll see you around.” He said, following Grian and Mumbo out of the store.

Considering that he was there to attend their wedding he shoudln't have been surprised to see Grian with his back to the wall, his lips inches from Mumbo’s.

“I could kiss you right now,” Grian said, his voice barely above a whisper, pupils blown wide.

“You very well could.” Mumbo said, and perhaps he meant to say more but Grian cut him off by pulling him down into a bruising kiss. Their world having shrunk down to the two of them and the old brick strip mall wall.

Scar couldn’t help but feel like he shouldn’t have been there, which was ridiculous because of course he should, he was the one who’d brought them here, but there was something so deeply intimate about Grian kissing Mumbo against that strip plaza corridor, and not just because their kiss was heating up (Scar really should look away). They seemed soft, like a bubble of understanding had appeared around just the two of them and their world had gone from terrifying and incomprehensible to something precious because they had each other.

Of course, there was every chance that Scar was just projecting. He’d always been such a sucker for fairy tales and happy endings, a fervent believer in the redemptive power of love. Of course, if he ever tried to marry anyone there would always be that paranoid Cub voice in the back of his mind, it had happened enough times already when someone would try to trick him into falling in love with them, only for it to be about the money or the prestige or some other reason that should have destroyed his faith in true love. It hadn’t though, at least he still believed in true love for other people, maybe not so much for himself. Maybe that was why he’d agreed to come to this wedding between two strangers. He’d just needed to be reminded - needed to see for himself - that love was real and it was every bit as wonderful and powerful as his childhood self had believed.

Chapter Text

Grian couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled Mumbo out of the store, it was just too funny, a ring with a moustache engraved into it so it would leave a little moustache shaped indent on his finger after he’d worn it.

“You know,” Mumbo said, mirth dripping from every syllable. “That’s going to be really difficult to explain if I ever change my facial hair.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Grian said with absolute confidence, “you’d just look wrong without it.”

“Oh, I see,” Mumbo said, invading Grian’s personal space with mock indignation, pressing Grian’s back against the wall, “you only love me for my moustache.”

“Yep! Glad we’re on the same page about that.” Grian lied. “What’s the feather for anyway?”

“To match your chicken onesie, of course.” Mumbo said, losing his battle to hold back his laughter.

“Oh, of course,” Grian said, laughing. “Mumbo, that's brilliant! I could kiss you right now.” 

“You very well could.” Mumbo said, and maybe it was that Grian had gotten his wires crossed between fiction and reality, or maybe he was just so deeply in love with this spoon of a man whose sense of humour matched his own so well. Or maybe Grian was just tired of pretending that he didn’t want to kiss Mumbo, hadn’t been burning to do so every second of his life for three years. Regardless, his hands seemed to act on their own, pulling Mumbo into a kiss.

Grian felt as if he was going to melt into the wall. His lips pressed against Mumbo’s, pulling Mumbo impossibly closer to him as if he could somehow will everything he wanted into Mumbo via osmosis. He was keenly aware of every point at which their bodies intersected: Mumbo’s strong hands either side of his arms, effectively pinning him against the wall, his leg, sandwiched between Grian’s own and their lips, oh God their lips. He wanted this, he’d wanted this for years and he finally had it and if this was the last thing he ever did he could die happy. Which of course meant he was about to ruin it by opening his eyes, desperate to see if Mumbo was as wrecked as he felt. Only to make eye contact with Scar, exiting the jeweller.

Reluctantly he tapped Mumbo’s shoulder. “Uh, Mumbo, we have company.” Grian breathed, only pulling far enough away from Mumbo to speak to him. 

“Hmm? Oh! Oh pants!” Mumbo exclaimed, pulling away and turning around to look apologetically at Scar.

“Don’t worry, you’re still wearing them.” Scar replied with a laugh.

The ride home was awkward to say the least. Grian was so aware of how his leg was pressed against Mumbo’s in the back seat and his mind was racing far too quickly to say much more than a quick thank you to Scar. He had kissed Mumbo. For real, as in not for this charade but because he’d really, really wanted to. He led Mumbo up the stairs to their flat, knowing that he had to say something because while he had come to terms with the fact that he was an awful person, he was suddenly full of hope which waged ruthless war against his self-deprecation and his anxiety. Because Mumbo had kissed him back. Not because Scar was watching, because he hadn’t known had he? Mumbo had kissed him back and maybe, just maybe it had been real.

“So, er,” Grian started eloquently. 

“You alright?” Mumbo asked and Grian had to count his lucky stars that Mumbo hadn’t ended that sentence with the word ‘mate’ because that would have been enough to break his rapidly weakening resolve.

“I just-” Grian was really hoping he would find his sentence once he’d started. He could hear his own pulse and a rushing sound in his ears. He needed to act now or run away before panic could claim him for its own. He approached Mumbo, trying to put everything he was too chicken to say into his actions. Actions were somehow more manageable than speaking. He reached a hand up so he could cup Mumbo’s jaw, trailing his thumb across Mumbo’s cheekbones, feeling safer as he saw the way Mumbo’s pupils dilated.

“Is this ok?” Grian whispered. He watched with bated breath, every sense on high alert as Mumbo swallowed thickly, his eyebrows shooting up as he gazed back at Grian. And then finally he nodded. 

Sure, Grian had kissed Mumbo before but it wasn’t as though it was something he was going to get sick of any time soon. He smiled as the now-familiar tickle of Mumbo’s moustache across his top lip, no, he couldn’t possibly tire of this. He dragged his top teeth across Mumbo’s lower lip, a wordless question answered as Mumbo’s lips parted and Grian could finally taste him again.

Grian had to pull his pillow over his face to stifle his manic laughter when he awoke the next morning. They had gone to their separate bedrooms despite parts of Grian’s anatomy pleading with him to follow Mumbo. But Grian would have given away everything he owned if it meant keeping Mumbo, being allowed to love him, so he would take it slow, no matter how frustrating it was. 

He checked his phone and found a few texts from Pearl demanding that he ‘haul his ass’ down to the park so they could run through a few ‘Wedding Things (™)’. Grumbling to himself, he got changed and scribbled a note for Mumbo, signing it off with a kiss and a crudely drawn chicken before leaving.

Pearl had Scar holding a tape measure as she took measurements around the gazebo when Grian found them. Grian didn’t even have the usual twinge of guilt upon seeing Scar, if this prank had gotten him free access to making out with Mumbo whenever he wanted to then it was all 100% worth it.

“Someone got up on the right side of the bed today,” Pearl observed, and Grian refused to shrink under her gaze. Why shouldn’t he be happy? He stuck his tongue out at her and went over to Scar because he knew Jellie would be nearby. 

He found her still attached to her harness but fighting it as best she could in her attempt to strike at some tall grass.

“You tell that grass, Jellie,” he said grinning as she meowed in confusion as the grass sprung back up, having the audacity not to be defeated. “A real apex predator you’ve got there, Scar.”

“Yeah,” Scar laughed but there was so much fondness in his voice that Grian didn’t feel like he could do much other than smile back. Jellie purred loudly at the sound of Scar’s laugh and all Grian could think was ‘same’. 

“So, er,” Grian began, wondering when Mumbo’s eloquence had rubbed off on him (it was a nice thought, warming his chest from the inside), “anything I can do to help?”

“Yes,” Pearl said, “you can finish taking the measurements while I check that the BBQ works.” She handed him the other end of the tape measure with a whisper, “you will be telling me what's going on later.”

“I’ll tell you right now,” he whispered back, “I kissed Mumbo, for real, not for this wedding thing.”

“OK, wedding now, dish later.” And with that she was off.

“You ok back there?” Scar asked, “Not telling Pearl you got cold feet are you?”

Grian did laugh that time, “No, I don't think that’s even possible.”

“Ok, but if you mysteriously disappear on Monday I’m telling Mumbo that Pearl knew all along.” Scar’s rebuttal was quick as a whip and Grian had to remind himself that verbally sparring with someone was not supposed to make him blush, especially when that person wasn’t Mumbo now that they had some kind of fledgeling relationship.

“Ha ha,” Grian replied sarcastically, “I’m sure you’ll be just as weird when it's your turn. Then I’ll get to make fun of you.”

Scar made a face that was gone before Grian could decipher it, but when Scar spoke his voice was softer, more genuine. “That’s really more of an ‘if’ its my turn than a ‘when’.”

“You’d better not seriously be trying to pull some self-deprecating crap right now,” Grian told him. He met Scar’s eyes which immediately confirmed Grian’s fears; Scar actually had no idea about the effect he had on other people. The audacity. “OK fine, let’s pretend you’re broke so you can’t say it's just because you’re a glamorous billionaire CEO:”

“I wouldn’t say glamorous,” Scar began but Grian cut him off. 

“First of all, not running Good Times doesn’t magically take away your architectural talent, and I would know, I’ve been studying it for years. So jot that down.

“Secondly, No one who loves their cat as much as you do can be a bad person, and honestly even if you were a supervillain the fact that you love Jellie so much would be undeniably adorable.” Grian was standing maybe a foot from where Scar sat in his wheelchair now and some part of him was mortified that he was yelling at his hero in public but that part was quickly silenced by the outraged part which was too busy being horrified that Scar didn’t know what a catch he was.

“And that’s not even mentioning the fact that you are unfairly attractive. I mean honestly, the eyes and the voice? That's just rude and excessive.” Of course Grian wasn’t staring at Scar’s eyes at that moment, instead he found himself gazing at Scar’s mouth, open in shock. There were less than ten centimetres between them now and it would be so easy to just close that gap and show Scar exactly what he meant. 

No! What was he doing? What the hell was he thinking? He’d just started things with Mumbo properly, he wasn’t about to throw that away for someone who he’d done nothing but lie to since they met.

Pulling back abruptly he took a deep breath, staving off the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.

“I have to go.” Grian turned tail and fled, dreading the conversation that he knew he had to have with Mumbo.

Chapter Text

When Grian had crossed his legs and sat down on the floor opposite where Mumbo sat on the couch after saying the dreaded phrase, “We need to talk.” Mumbo hadn’t been sure what to expect, but a Grian whose breath came in small, shuddering gasps as he hyperventilated probably should have been higher on the list now that he thought about it.

“Grian,” he assured, “it's OK, we can pretend that kiss never happened if that makes you feel better.” If by ‘Ok’ Mumbo meant ‘I feel like my internal organs are being passed through a paper shredder’ that the statement was even true.

Grian’s eyes filled with tears and Mumbo braced himself for the worst when Grian let out a watery. “No.”

“No?” Mumbo asked, unable to breathe.

“No, I’m not turning this into a stupid miscommunication thing. I like you, Mumbo, a lot. More than is probably healthy.”

“Oh, that’s great news, because I really didn’t want us to pretend nothing had happened.” Mumbo replied and he had the strangest sensation, like he was suddenly more grounded and real. Oh, he’d started breathing again.

“Yeah.” Grian said and Mumbo could see that he was starting to panic again. “If you don’t hate me at the end of this conversation we can review that.”

“Why would I hate you?” Mumbo asked into a long silence.

“I was just at the park with Scar and, er, he sort of said some self-deprecating stuff and I was having a go at him.”

“Fair enough, that man is unfairly attractive,” Mumbo said, which was apparently the right thing to say (he’d had an apology ready to go if it wasn’t) because Grian’s breathing seemed to have evened out a bit more.

“That’s what I told him but, er, by the time I’d finished my rant I was maybe, er, this far away,” Grian indicated with his hands, “from his face and I . . .” Grian paused and took a shaky breath. “I nearly kissed him.”

Mumbo honestly wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. A week ago he would have been like ‘dude nice’ all while dealing with the jealousy that two ridiculously attractive people were now out of his reach. But now, he wasn’t really sure what to say. And he hated that some traitorous part of his mind was filing away the mental image of Grian and Scar together for further perusal once he was alone.

“And I know it was really stupid because I have you and I’ve wanted you for so long and I’m just being a massive idiot and-”

“Grian,” Mumbo cut him off and it was a testament to how scared Grian was that he let himself be silenced so easily. “It’s OK. I’d like to date you and be boyfriends or whatever, we have working eyes so its not hard to say that Scar is objectively attractive. I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?” Grian asked.

“No. I probably should be, shouldn’t I? I could pretend, if you like.”

“Please don’t.” Grian said and his voice was small now, probably from exhaustion and, if Mumbo knew him (which he liked to think he did), paranoia that Mumbo would suddenly take back what he’d said and get angry.

“Well if we’re done with this spoon moment,” Mumbo said, keeping his voice soft so he didn’t startle Grian, “I have perfectly good cuddles that are just going to waste up here.”

“You are such a sap.” Grian told him, standing up anyway and letting Mumbo pull him onto his lap.

“Yeah,” Mumbo agreed, “but I’m your sap.”

Mumbo reached around Grian, grabbing a sticky note without letting go, quickly scribbling ‘IOU - one spoon named Mumbo’ and sticking the note in Grian’s pocket.

Mumbo headed over to their friends’ place with a bag of fairy lights Gem had given him to repair when he decided to let himself in. It was mostly because he wanted to know where on Earth she’d managed to find fairy lights that were on a continuous circuit rather than a parallel one. It was like working with something from a hundred years ago and while Mumbo had enjoyed the experience of fixing it, carefully screwing and unscrewing the Autumn leaf shaped glass domes over each light was not an experience he felt the need to repeat. Ever. 

He also sort of wanted to talk to Impulse. Impulse would probably know why Mumbo wasn’t jealous when he really ought to be. Impulse also didn’t really feel jealousy, it worked well for him and his two boyfriends, Tango and Zedaph. He was probably to right person to talk to about this, even though Mumbo knew he would probably break out in hives for even considering talking about his feelings with a friend. Impulse was also an engineering student, maybe he could pretend this conversation was about circuits or something. At least circuits behaved the way they were supposed to.

“Hey guys, how’s everything going?” He said as he opened the door, only to be met by a silence that was either stunned, awkward, or both. He could see Scar, sitting at the kitchen bench drinking what Mumbo recognised immediately as Impulse’s fix-everything tea (ten parts sugar, one part tea). 

“Oh, hi Mumbo!” Impulse said and there was something slightly brittle in his voice that had Mumbo putting the pieces together of what had happened very quickly. Mumbo wasn’t an idiot, he was gently allergic to his own emotions but that didn’t mean he didn’t recognise them in other people. Scar was watching him intently, like he was expecting Mumbo to yell at him and Impulse was twisting his thumbs together like he did when Pearl and Grian’s debates turned into affectionate violence which threatened the decor. 

“I’m just here to drop these off,” Mumbo said, keeping his voice neutral.

“Awesome,” Impulse said but his words and tone were even more mismatched and Scar looked down at his tea, shaking a little. That broke something in Mumbo, he could still remember in vivid detail Grian’s first panic attack since they’d started living together: It had been the middle of their first exam block and Mumbo had spilled a carton of milk on the floor which had apparently been the straw that had broken the camel’s back. Grian hadn’t realised he’d left the carton on the edge of the sink and was apologising to Mumbo for his carelessness in between heaving breaths, as if Mumbo hadn’t been the one who’d knocked it with his elbow. It had called out to that same strange instinct that seemed to appear whenever Grian laughed maniacally over a prank or dropped designs in front of anyone who would look at them with dramatic flair, he’d just had to keep Grian near him, make sure he knew that things would be OK. 

“Scar?” he said, as gently as he could, wincing when Scar flinched. “I’m not angry with you. Grian’s already told me what happened yesterday.” He tried to imagine what Scar could be so anxious about, he was always rather good at guessing what Grian’s worst-case scenarios were, he could figure it out for Scar. “I’m not mad at Grian either, the wedding is still on, and we still very much want you to be a part of it.”

“You know what? I’m just gonna go,” Impulse said before running away up the stairs. Mumbo made a mental note to tell Grian that Impulse’s first instinct upon hearing Mumbo being nice was to run away in terror. Mumbo didn’t love the way Scar clutched his tea close to his chest, shaking even harder than before. He forced himself to slouch so he was as small as possible because Grian was always telling him that his height was imposing, of course that was only if one operated under the impression that everyone was as small as Grian.

“Really.” Mumbo said, wracking his brain for something he could say that might convince Scar that he wasn’t upset and that even if he was, he wasn’t about to hurt him. What did he know about Scar, really? He ran Good Times but what did the company someone had inherited really tell you about that person? He knew Keralis, Grian’s boss and Xisuma, their jeweller, but that seemed to be in a purely professional capacity, friendly professional - Mumbo couldn’t imagine anyone not being at least a little charmed by Scar - and that he’d slotted himself in very comfortably into their little group of friends. But outside of that, did Scar have much of a life outside running his company? Why would he agree to attend some stranger's wedding if he had better things to do?

Mumbo could actually feel his heart breaking for Scar. The first time he’d ever actually been around people who liked him for him and they were all lying to him. That was just pants. He sat down at the kitchen island next to Scar. What could he say without making things worse? Oh screw it, if Grian could rope him into this whole farce then he could rope Grian right back into it. “You know it’s not all over once you leave after the wedding, right? We want you to come back and spend time with us, all of us. It’s weird, I keep forgetting that you haven’t actually been around this whole time. So no, I’m not mad at you and I’d like to keep being friends, or become friends? Sorry to have assumed.” Mumbo knew he was rambling but he just felt like he had to make sure Scar understood that Mumbo wasn’t angry, he wasn’t upset, and he actually liked Scar. Liked him enough to resign himself to explaining to Grian that they might need to keep pretending to be married every now and again so they could spend time with Scar (and boy was he dreading that conversation).

“We are, or, uh, we can be?” Scar said, finally actually looking at Mumbo and wow Mumbo really understood Grian’s temptation the day before, there was just something so alluring about the way Scar’s eyes seemed to be drinking everything in, and when Mumbo was the object of that attention it was more than a little addictive.

“I’m glad.” Mumbo told him, and it was true. Even if it made his life harder, it was worth it to keep Scar in it. Oh pants, there were maybe a few points he was going to have to discuss with Grian later, like who would get Scar if they had to divorce. 

Chapter Text

“I know, Jellie,” Scar told the cat, “it’s just one of those things.” He fixed a bow carefully around her neck, making her look like a highly distinguished lady just as she deserved. She made her sweet little cat startup noise and headbutted his hand as he went to run his hand down her back. Her bow matched his suit, a striking scarlet velvet, something Cub had always tried to talk him out of wearing to galas in favour of plain black. Or maybe that was just so he couldn’t make the matching top hat argument. Well, what Cub didn’t know couldn’t hurt him and it was too late anyway, the top hat was already on.

“Yeah,” he told her, scratching behind her ears, “Grian and Mumbo are getting married today. I know, how exciting.” He almost believed himself. He was so close to pulling himself out of this funk he’d gotten himself into when the reality of everything would bring it all crashing back down. There was a bittersweet ache that followed him relentlessly as he was driven to the park. He was happy for them, he really was. They were so obviously in love and it was probably just envy of what they had together that made his chest tighten as he saw the fully decorated gazebo. The place where only three days prior he’d nearly kissed Grian. But that was clearly just a heat of the moment thing, right? He’d just been so caught up in the euphoria of someone actually telling him they liked him that he’d forgotten the context for a moment. 

“Hey Scar,” Gem said, coming over to help him navigate his chair over a rather dangerous crack in the pavement.

“Hi Gem,” He said and even if his internal dialogue sounded hollow even to himself, he was genuinely happy to see her. “You doing OK?”

She smiled at him warmly as she helped manoeuvre him into the space they had kept between plastic chairs for him.”Oh, I’m fine, Impulse managed to get the fairy lights hooked up to a car battery. When the sun sets this place is going to look so magical. How are you?” she asked and the gentleness in those last few words told him that Gem gave him a knowing look. She had, after all, been the one to find him in their kitchen after Mumbo had left dealing with his conflicting guilt and hope.

“I’m good, actually,” because the fact that someone had asked, had cared, made it true, “I’ve got my friends here and we’re gonna celebrate, and it's gonna be amayzin’.”

“Pearl! Look who I found!” She said, waving their other friend over.

“Hi Scar,” Pearl said, “You ready to watch some idiots have feelings?”

“I’m sure there’s a nicer way to phrase that.” Scar said, knowing full well that Pearl would not be changing things any time soon. He was actually rather looking forward to seeing how she would officiate.

“Yeah, but it’d be less accurate,” She pointed out. “The decorations and everything really came together. Mostly thanks to the lovely Gem, of course.”

Gem ducked, hiding her face behind her hair, not that it worked, Scar could hear the flustered smile in her voice. “Don’t you have some grooms to corral or something?”

“Nah,” Pearl said, “they’ll corral themselves if they know what's good for them.”

“You know, Pearl,” Scar said, leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially, “I’m beginning to think you might be the one here with the brain cell.”

“Darn! What gave it away?” Pearl said, mock-whispering back. “They can have it back when they’ve learned not to be idiots. You too mister.” She made a hand gesture not dissimilar to the classic ‘I got your nose’.

“Hey, wait, I need that!” Scar objected, unable to fight down his grin.

“Sorry, too busy running a wedding.” Pearl laughed as she ran away. 

Scar grinned at Gem as she sat down in between him and Impulse. Scar recognised Keralis and Xisuma behind him but other than that there were two other people who must have been classmates or friends Scar hadn’t yet met. Scar had been to a few weddings, one that was notably on a yacht with the London Symphony Orchestra hired for occasion. This one, with Grian and Mumbo standing a little stiffly in front of Pearl with only a few people, but people who actually wished them well and weren’t there to rub shoulders or make business deals, had to be Scar’s favourite.

“Queerly beloved,” Pearl began serenely, “We are gathered here to gay in the sight of God.”

Mumbo let out a choked sound that Scar really hoped was a laugh.

“Yeah nah, I’m just messing with you. We’re here to celebrate the union of Grian Watcher and Mumbo Jumbolio in this park with our close friends. I am Pearl, I got my licence to do this from the internet. Marriage has been legally defined by the State of California as a contract entered upon by two people to the exclusion of all others, of course, neither myself nor these two are actually American citizens so we’ll see how important that part is later.”

Pearl was also a much funnier officiant than he was used to, he could hear a few others chortling, including Keralis’ distinct laugh. Scar wanted to laugh too but he was a little bit distracted by Grian and Mumbo. He’d seen Mumbo in his suit plenty of times over the last week, as he wore it to work, but he wasn’t usually wearing it with a poppy and lilac boutonniere that matched Grian’s. Grian’s burgundy suit wasn’t something Scar had ever seen or even imagined Grian would own but he was impressed nonetheless, and they were staring at one another as if they were in on some great secret. Scar pushed away the pang of envy. He was here to be happy for them. That was all.

“Now at this point I’m supposed to say that if anyone objects to this wedding, speak now or forever hold your peace, but actually I have a few things I’d like to say.” Pearl was going off script if the mortified expressions on Grian and Mumbo’s faces were anything to go by.

“Pearl, what’re you-” Grian started to say but he was cut off.

“These two idiots have been dancing around one another for years. I guarantee you every single one of you knew they were in love with each other before they did. But a few months ago Grian came up with a prank idea and I’m going to give him one final chance to come clean about it before I do it for him. And while we’re all very happy that pretending to date Mumbo turned into him actually dating Mumbo there are a few things they’re still being idiots about.” Pearl told the group.

“OK fine,” Grian sighed, “the wedding was a prank but the food isn’t so go help yourselves to the food over by the barbecue area.”

Scar wasn’t really sure what was going on, he reached down to the wheels of his chair, ready to follow Xisuma and Keralis to the food when Gem placed her hands gently on his. 

“Not you, Scar, you’re staying here with us.” She told him, turning to face Pearl who was essentially manhandling Grian and Mumbo over to them.

“I can walk over myself, thank you Pearl.” 

“Now, you see, Mumbo, I really thought I could trust you to do the right thing yourself but apparently you are so whipped for both of them that you were going to continue this whole charade for the rest of our lives, so you’ll have to understand that I don’t trust you right now.” Pearl dragged the two ‘grooms’ so they were both standing in front of Scar, neither of them meeting his eyes.

“Hello Scar,” Grian said, “I’m really sorry about all this.”

Scar tried his best to piece everything together, but nothing was really working, he was still stuck on the fact that Mumbo and Grian hadn’t really been dating for all that long, that the wedding had never been real. He just couldn’t quite make sense of it. “Sorry,” Scar said back, “I’m just very confused right now.”

“That’s more than fair,” Mumbo said, “It’s a very convoluted story.”

“I’m already sitting down,” Scar said, inviting them to tell it.

“Well,” Grian said, “It started with rubber ducks. . .”

Neither Grian nor Mumbo would look at Scar as they told him about their plan and Scar’s internal Cub voice was jubilant, crying out in vindication so loudly it was making his head hurt. But Scar kept listening, because when the story stopped then he had to go home, back to board meetings and more evidence that it wasn’t ever worth leaving his stupid safe corporate life. And eventually his inspiration would die because he was never allowed to design things when he needed them and this would all be a memory of the last two weeks where Scar had felt like a person instead of a sad conduit for corporate greed.

“Right,” Scar managed to say faintly once he’d realised they had been silently waiting for his response for some time. Honestly, he was right there with them, waiting for himself to have some sort of reaction.

“Well, now that we’re all very uncomfortable, Pearl, if you could grab Gem and Impulse and make sure our guests haven’t destroyed the park, that’d be fantastic. Since things probably can’t get too much worse, Grian and I would quite like to talk to Scar about some more.” Mumbo was rambling, he was running his thumb absently over Grian’s knuckles like they were a magic lamp and he could wish them all out of this situation. 

“Scar?” Grian said, and hearing his usually confident voice sound so small hurt Scar’s heart a little bit, what was left of it anyway. 

“Yeah?” He said.

“Mumbo and I spoke a bit yesterday and well, the reason Pearl decided apparently that we had to come clean today was because we wanted to . . .” Grian trailed off.

“We realised this couldn’t be cut and dry,” Mumbo took over speaking, “we couldn’t continue to be friends with you or have anything to do with you if we came clean but we still wanted you in our lives so we decided we would just keep, well, being married.”

“But that wasn’t really fair either, and not just because marriage is inherently problematic what with the hetero and amatonormative culture surrounding it, not to mention the way it upholds anything outside monogamy as inherently morally wrong.” Grian was sounding a bit like a sociology textbook but Scar could vibe with it, it was the exact sort of thing Scar would sometimes say in board meetings just to see how far he could make the board members' eyes roll back into their skulls. “But also because I, well, we.” Grian steeled himself with a deep breath which Scar found himself mirroring. “ Well, you did notice that I nearly kissed you three days ago, right?”

“I, um, yeah, I noticed.” Scar said, really unsure where this was going.

“And are you at all familiar with the concept of polyamory?” Grian added.

“What Grian is doing a really terrible job of saying because he’s terrified of rejection, is that we’re still figuring out this whole relationship thing but we’d like you to please consider joining us?” Mumbo said.

Grian elbowed Mumbo. “That is, if you can forgive us for doing nothing but lying to you and essentially swindling you out of your money and for the fact that Mumbo sounded like he was presenting you with a business proposition.”

“As if you were doing any better!” Mumbo said indignantly.

“Guys please, you’re both pretty,” Scar said. Because um wow. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting them to say to him but this wasn’t it.

“And of course, we’ll return the rings and try to refund you whatever we can.” Mumbo added, ignoring Scar’s comment, which was probably for the best.

“No, let Xisuma keep the money,” Scar said immediately, he wanted the jeweller to be thriving and not losing out money over things Scar had been more than happy to buy. But now he had to think of some kind of response. Was he upset? Was he supposed to be upset? 

“Yeah,” Scar said slowly, and as soon as he’d said it, he knew it was the right decision, it felt like the lead weight that had settled in his stomach when he’d learned of their deception was dissolving into butterflies. 

“Yeah?” Mumbo propted.

“I mean, I don’t love the lying, so that’s going to have to stop, but since you offered.” Scar told them both, feeling his smile creep onto his face.

“Well in that case,” Grian said, his voice back to normal and the smile on his face making Scar feel nervous in the best possible way. “Let’s get out of here, I can’t imagine our guests are very happy with us and we have a lot to talk about.”

“Uh, Grian,” Mumbo said politely. “The only way into our flat is via the stairs.”

“Oh,” Grian said, “oh I completely didn’t think.”

“Actually, Mumbo,” Scar said, “You look like a strapping young man who owes me for all the lying.” Grian laughed at that. “I’ve seen you lift Grian.” Scar wiggled his eyebrows.

“Well,” Grain said, “this wedding was missing a bride.” Laughing hysterically as Scar squawked, being lifted effortlessly into Mumbo’s arms, while Scar tried to reboot his brain so it could think of anything other than ‘pretty man strong’.

“Don’t forget my chair,” Scar added, trying to recover some dignity, grinning at Grian from Mumbo’s arms. “You know, if this is where clicking random emails gets me, I’m going to have to contact some overseas royalty back.”

“Don’t you dare.” Mumbo said.

“Yeah, don’t give your money to them, use it to help us seize the means of production or something, it’ll drive your investors insane.” Grian said.

“Was that supposed to sound like a bad idea?” Scar asked.

“All my best ideas are equal parts unhinged and genius.” Grian told him back, and Scar privately agreed.