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wren-kitchens · 1 year

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I DID IT I FINISHED IT WE WIN THESEE

uh anyway here’s a mumscarian christmas fic that was meant to be posted on christmas but I entirely misjudged how long I take to write fics lmfao

(i’m very proud that I did actually finish this, it’s been A While in the making)

no cws that I can think of, but ofc please tell me if you want me to add anything! (the end may be a bit rough, frankly I just wanted to finish the damn thing lmao)

“don’t you trust me to wrap anything?”

“no, I absolutely do not after last year.”

“oh, c’mon mumbo, you know it wasn’t my fault your tie got burnt.”

scar peers around the door upon hearing grian and mumbo’s conversation from the hallway.

“what’s this about mumbo’s tie?” he asks, before registering the sheer mess in front of him. “oh my goodness! it looks like a stocking threw up in here!”

there’s wrapping paper all over the floor, tape stuck to every ledges surface, candy canes strewn across the table, along with their discarded wrappers. a strong smell of hot chocolate fills his nose, and he wonders what on earth he’s missed.

“hi scar!” grian beams. “we’re wrapping presents- or should I say, mumbo’s wrapping presents.” he pouts. “he won’t let me.”

“yeah, because last year-“

“that was entirely unrelated!” grian protests.

“he put the wrapping paper next to a candle and almost burnt my base down.” mumbo tells scar. “‘luckily’ all that actually burnt was my favourite tie.”

“oh, i got you a new one.” grian says. “it’s your new favourite tie, you said.” he grins.

mumbo rolls his eyes, almost sickeningly fond, and scar thinks he knows why it’s his favourite. a little pang of jealousy tugs at scar’s heart. he ignores it.

“anyway, do you want to join us?” grian says. “i’m sure mumbo will ruin your fun as well.” he says, glaring jokily at mumbo.

“oh, don’t worry, I much prefer scar to you.” mumbo says, laughing at grian’s outraged squawk.

“scar come sit next to me.” grian says. “I like you more mumbo anyway.”

the heat in scar’s face is definitely more than the turned-up-too-much heating’s doing. “i’ll sit next to both of you.” he decides. he can’t tell if he’s imagining the excitement in their faces or not.

scar plops himself down in between the two. “there, now you’re both unhappy.” he beams.

“I wouldn’t say that.” mumbo mutters, so quietly scar is fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to hear.

he replies anyway. “oh, i’m so glad to hear it, mumbo.”

mumbo’s face turns a little pink, and grian grins at him.

‘you aren’t subtle.’ grian mouths.

“neither are you, g-man.” scar ruffles his hair, laughing as he squawks in protest. “you seem not to notice how I have superior hearing.”

“what, ‘cause of these?” mumbo taps the tip of scar’s pointed ears. scar feels himself go red. “mr elf.”

grian gasps. “oh! of course! you’re an elf!”

“I am not wearing a stupid hat.” scar says immediately.

“what, like cat ears aren’t a stupid hat?” grian says.

“hey!” scar pouts.

grian nudges his shoulder against him. “i’m only joking. you’re a very pretty kitty.”

“thank you, birdie.” scar puts an arm around grian’s shoulders.

“don’t call me birdie.” grian says halfheartedly. he shifts closer and wraps a wing around scar and mumbo.

“why not? it’s cute.” scar grins. “you’re cuteguy aren’t you? it’s on brand.”

“grian is very cute.” mumbo contributes. “scar is very pretty.”

“and mumbo is very handsome.” grian finishes.

“we might need some mistletoe in here soon.” scar jokes. both grian and mumbo blush.

“I bet mumbo wouldn’t trust me to put it up.” grian leans his head on scar’s shoulder and pouts at mumbo.

mumbo rolls his eyes. “you’re the one who burnt my tie, mate!”

grian makes a sadder face, and mumbo sighs. “it’s in the box with the tinsel.” he says before adding, almost as an afterthought: “scar make sure he doesn’t destroy the house.”

“on it boss.” scar gives him a mock salute. mumbo grins and returns to wrapping the gifts.

scar follows grian through to the other room, where he is rummaging through a large plastic box. when he looks up at scar, he has glitter on his cheek.

“i’m here to make sure you don’t burn the house down.” scar tells him, feeling a tad out of place.

grian grins at him. “no promises.”

“mumbo would kill you.” scar says.

“he would never let me live it down.” grian says, something fond in his voice.

scar feels himself smiling before he registers the action. “you two are gone for each other.”

grian blushes furiously, and drops the bauble he was holding. it bounces off the edge of the box and rolls across the floor. “scar!” he hisses.

“what?” scar says, voice innocent. grian glares at him. “oh, but c’mon, am I wrong?”

“you- well, partially!” grian says, indignant.

scar folds his arms, amused. “oh yeah?”

“yes!” grian exclaims, still careful to keep his voice quiet. “in case you haven’t noticed, he does not like me.”

“oh come off it.” scar scoffs. “he absolutely does!”

whilst scar already knew for a while that mumbo and grian loved each other, something inside him aches to have it confirmed.

“i’ve known him for,” grian pauses, frowning. “uh. a long time, at least. anyway, my point is that I know him better. and he just definitely does not.”

“well, i’ve had to deal with you two making goo-goo eyes at each other for years, and I can say he definitely does.” scar grins.

grian gives a small huff and turns back to rummage through the box. “you’re a hopeless romantic.” if scar didn’t know better, he’d say grian’s voice is affectionate.

“why’s the mistletoe in a box anyway?” scar moves from the doorway to peer over grian’s shoulder.

“it’s plastic.” grian supplies. “poisonous to cats.”

“and birds?”

from where he’s stood, scar can see a faint pink spread across grian’s cheeks.

“that might be another reason.” he mumbles. “mumbo got it last year.”

“mumbo-“

“yes, yes, I know.” grian says quickly.

“and you think-“

“I know, in fact.” grian says, standing up with the mistletoe.

scar smiles. grian has glitter in his hair now. “you’re really pulling off the sparkly look there, g.”

“what?”

“you have glitter all over you.” scar says.

grian huffs. “there’s glitter everywhere.” he says, ruffling his hair. a shower of sparkles floats onto the floor.

scar bites his tongue. ‘it makes you look even prettier’, he wants to say. he doesn’t; it’s not his place to say anything like that to grian.

“is that all of it?” grian asks.

“not quite.” scar chuckles. “you have some on your cheek.” he gestures on his own face. he wants to cup grian’s face and wipe it off with his thumb. he doesn’t.

grian brushes it off, and looks at scar expectantly. “gone?”

“yep.” scar says. it sounds too short, so he tacks on, “so, where’re we putting it?”

“above the door.” grian says. “there’s a hook there, so I don’t need to mess around with it.”

“can.. can you reach the door?” scar says, following grian back to the living room.

“yes!” grian says, his wings puffing up indignantly.

“no.” mumbo calls from the floor.

“I absolutely can!�� grian protests.

to (dis)prove his point, grian stands on his toes and tries to tie the mistletoe’s ribbon onto the hook above the door. he is very clearly too short for it, but apparently determined to tie it himself, flapping his wings in case that might help.

“grian, I think you should get scar to help.” mumbo says.

“I can reach it!” grian is now trying to jump to tie it, unsuccessfully.

“sure you can, g, I believe in you.” scar jokes.

“scar, can you pick him up?” mumbo says. “this is painful to watch.”

scar wraps his arms around grian’s waist and hoists him into the air. grian gives a squawk, his wings puffing up again.

“scar!” he exclaims.

“c’mon, you can reach it now.” scar tells him, grinning.

“you- are- a- nightmare.” grian tells him, face flushed.

“i’m not putting you down until you put it up.” scar says.

“I hate you both.” grian says, but he reaches up and finally manages to tie the ribbon.

“there!” scar smiles, putting grian carefully back onto the floor.

“you suck.” grian is scowling at him, but scar can tell he doesn’t mean it.

“you’re very light.” scar notes.

“yeah, uhm. bird bones.” grian says. he’s avoiding scar’s eyes.

“well!” scar throws an arm around grian’s shoulders. “we can’t leave our moustached friend sitting on the floor alone, can we?”

“well, i’m actually finished with wrapping.” mumbo says, standing up.

“oh, wonderful!” scar beams. “we can make gingerbread men!”

grian and mumbo share a glance.

“don’t worry, they’re already baked.” scar says. “I know you two are atrocious at cooking-“

“rude.”

“fair.”

“-so I brought them to decorate!” scar says.

“arguably we’re worse at decorating.” mumbo says.

“speak for yourself.” grian tells him.

“ah, but the good thing about decorating cookies is that, no matter how bad you are, it’ll still taste good!” scar says.

“that’s lucky.” grian nudges mumbo.

“well come on, come on!” scar says, leading them into the kitchen. “I got a bunch of new cookie cutters recently, so there’s some of every kind!”

“oh, wow, scar.” grian says.

laid out on the countertops are three trays of gingerbread cookies. there really are some of every kind: gingerbread people, snowmen, santa hats, presents, holly, baubles, stars and mistletoe.

“I have frosting of every colour as well.” scar beams.

“how do you find time to do all this?” mumbo says.

“oh, I bake for fun.” scar says, moving to get the bag which has the frosting in. “it’s relaxing.”

“you have clearly never baked with grian, then.” mumbo says.

“hey! I am an expert baker!” grian protests.

“we’ll see about that.” scar grins, and holds out the piping bags. “choose your fighter.” he puts on a deeper voice.

grian rolls his eyes. “you’re a dork.” he says, taking the red bag.

mumbo smirks, nudging his shoulder against grian’s.

“what?” grian says.

mumbo mutters something in grian’s ear that makes him blush pink.

“shut up.” grian says, turning to the cookies.

“you didn’t deny it!” mumbo crows, grinning.

“observant as ever, mumbo.” grian says. “fine, yes I do. happy?”

“very.” mumbo says. his eyes don’t seem to agree; there’s a shadow of something like longing behind the teasing glee.

“this is not an understandable conversation.” scar says, beginning to work on a snowman.

“you’re just not on our level.” mumbo bumps his hip against scar’s. “not as smart as we are.”

“oh yeah, insult the guy who brings you cookies.” scar grins, pretending to take the trays away. “i’ll just be going then-“

“no!” mumbo grabs his arms. “i’m very sorry, you’re very clever and smart.”

“and..?” scar prompts.

“and very handsome.” mumbo smiles.

“thank you.” scar puts the tray down. mumbo’s hands are still on his arms.

neither of them move. scar’s heart is in his throat, and he feels a little like he could throw up as mumbo’s eyes drift to his lips. in a good way.

but, as scar remembers with a stab of guilt, he doesn’t have a say in this. he knows grian and mumbo like each other. scar isn’t about to get in the way of that because of some- childish whim.

scar takes his hands off the tray, and mumbo moves backwards. grian smirks at mumbo.

“you can shut it.” mumbo mutters, and grian laughs.

scar goes back to the cookies, keeping his eyes on the decorating.

he tries to ignore how mumbo is close enough for his hip to brush up against scar’s every so often, and how grian keeps giggling at mumbo’s attempts at frosting in a ludicrously sweet way.

“no, that doesn’t look a thing like him!” grian is saying. “you should know, you keep staring-“

“you’re such a hypocrite!” mumbo cuts across. scar can see him flushed pink out of the corner of his eye.

“I never claimed not to be.” grian says.

“alright, look- scar,” mumbo moves even closer, and scar looks up. he’s holding a gingerbread man, dripping with green, yellow and brown frosting. it looks like it could have a face, if you squint.

“yes?” scar says.

“do you think this looks like you?” mumbo says. grian is laughing behind him.

“hmm.” scar has to press his hand against his mouth to keep from joining grian. “well. it could be?”

mumbo pouts.

“oh, but it does look very nice.” scar is quick to amend.

“no it doesn’t.” grian says. “scar, for someone so mean about building, you sure are kind when it comes to icing gingerbread.”

“I give constructive criticism.” scar corrects him. “and mumbo needs all the support he can get.”

mumbo makes an offended noise, and scar laughs at it.

grian is grinning. “so if I made that-“

“I would let you know what a mess that was, yes.” scar grins. “he’s not the one who insists he’s ‘not a builder’ even after-“

“those are flukes!” mumbo protests.

“scientifically you need like, three tries at an experiment and if it’s the same result each time, you can consider it proven.” grian pipes up. “i consider it proven that you are a good builder.”

“agreed.” scar says. “you were officially a good builder after season eight, i’d say.”

“now it’s officially official.” grian nods.

“well, I mean-“ mumbo is pink again. grian laughs.

scar goes back to the cookies. he’s making good progress; if he could just get rid of the aching in his chest, he’d be on track for a perfect christmas!

however, the two people directly causing said aching do not want to leave him alone. and, maybe, scar doesn’t mind too much.

the ‘maybe’ turns into a ‘definitely’ as grian peers at scar’s cookies, resting his chin on his shoulder as he does.

“well hello there.” scar grins.

“how do you do that?” grian asks.

“years of practice, g-man.” scar tells him.

grian groans. “why does everything need practice?”

“‘m afraid that’s just how it works.” scar says, voice embarrassingly fond. “not much you can do to cheese it. though, I suppose if anyone could it’s doc.”

“i’ll have to ask him later.” grian says.

“do you mean blackmail?” mumbo presses close to scar, who is starting to feel like he must be dreaming.

“noo.” grian scoffs, unconvincingly.

“do you just pester him to get what you want?” scar says.

“well, it works.” grian grins, wrapping his arms around scar’s waist.

scar’s face is burning, and he can’t seem to stop smiling as he works on the cookies.

“you’re a menace.” mumbo says to grian. “there, how’s this?” he holds up another gingerbread man, globs of red, black and light brown on this one.

“depends what it’s supposed to be.” grian says. “if you wanted a shapeless blob, you’re doing fantastic.”

“it’s supposed to be you!” mumbo pouts again.

grian cackles. scar might die. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding. you’re very talented mumbo.”

“too right I am.” mumbo says.

“alright, let me show you how it’s done.” scar says. he tries to reach over to the gingerbread men, but grian stays resolutely in place.

scar chuckles. “g, I need to get them.”

“you can get them.” grian says, not moving. if anything, he tightens his grip. “I can just also stay here.”

“you’re right mumbo, he is a menace.” scar says. “would you mind passing me a couple?”

“oh, but scar, you’re ever so comfortable.” mumbo says, putting his head on scar’s shoulder.

“oh my god.” scar buries his face in his hands, if only to hide how red he’s gone. “you two are as bad as each other.”

“i’m kidding, i’ll get them.” mumbo smiles.

grian mutters something that sounds vaguely like “suck-up.”

mumbo moves back over almost immediately, and scar starts to decorate the cookies.

“is that me?” grian asks.

“mhm.” scar says, now working on his jumper. if scar were to look up, he’d see grian sticking his tongue out triumphantly at mumbo.

but he hasn’t, so he doesn’t.

“how on earth..?” mumbo murmurs as scar pipes on the face.

“ta da!” scar smiles, and moves onto mumbo’s one.

“that’s so cool!” grian exclaims. “you’re so cool!”

scar feels himself blush. “why, thank you, g.” he pauses before asking, “is there any reason you’re both attached to me?”

“you’re warm.” grian explains, as mumbo says “penguins.”

scar stops, and looks up at mumbo. “penguins?”

“you know.” mumbo says. “they all huddle together for warmth.”

scar laughs. “alright, we’re penguins then.” he says, returning to mumbo’s cookie.

“don’t penguins propose by giving each other rocks?” grian says.

“they do.” scar nods. “they mate for life.”

“that’s sweet.” mumbo says.

scar doesn’t answer, focused on getting the tie just right. he hears grian laughing quietly next to his ear, and honestly that is not helping.

somehow he manages to keep the lines straight, and fills it in before asking grian, “what are you giggling about, mister?”

“you do this thing when you’re focusing.” grian says. “you stick your tongue out a little. it’s cute.”

“I feel like i’m being made fun of.” scar says, though inwardly he’s bouncing up and down, squealing.

“you know i’d never.” grian says.

“just for that, your giggle is cute.” scar shoots back. a moment after he’s said it, he realises it sounds less like an insult and more like a compliment.

“he’s cuteguy, I think that’s the point.” mumbo says. “to be cute.”

“and I do a very good job at it.” grian preens.

mumbo smiles. “you sure do.”

“done!” scar announces, looking proudly at the two complete cookies.

mumbo peers over scar’s shoulder, and gasps. “oh! dude!” he looks up at scar, beaming. “that’s so cool!”

“that’s what I said!” grian nods. “scar, you are a wizard.”

“oh, you say that now, but on last life-“ scar is cut off by grian laughing.

scar can’t help smiling. “so, as you two seem to prefer being penguins over decorating, shall we just eat these and watch a movie?”

“yes!” grian jumps back from scar, almost running towards the door. “you stay here, i’m gonna set it up. don’t come in until I say!” he calls from the hallway.

“looks like we’re doing that, then.” mumbo chuckles.

“what movie do you think he’s putting on?” scar says, getting out a large bowl and tipping the gingerbread men into it.

“oh, I know he’s putting the muppets christmas carol on.” mumbo says, moving to help scar with the cookies. “he loves that film.”

“it’s a classic!” scar says, and mumbo groans. “oh, don’t tell me you don’t like it!”

“I don’t dislike it,” mumbo says. “i’ve just seen it a million times.”

“all the more reason to enjoy it!” scar moves closer, and says in a low voice, “that, and you like the person who enjoys it that much.”

mumbo blushes scarlet. “what- where did you get that idea from?” he doesn’t really say it; it’s more of a squeak.

scar raises an eyebrow. “you wanna go there?”

“no.” mumbo admits. “okay, okay. just- don’t tell him? I don’t wanna ruin anything.”

“of course!” scar says, thinking privately that it would definitely not ruin anything at all. “but-“

mumbo groans.

“-he definitely likes you back.”

“he doesn’t.”

“who says?”

mumbo rolls his eyes. “i say. and so does common sense.”

“well, I say that he’s been making goo-goo eyes at you for years now,” scar nudges mumbo with his shoulder. “and what’s a more romantic time than christmas?”

“valentines day.” mumbo says, grinning as scar sighs in exasperation. “look, i’m not oblivious. for instance, I know you’ve been making heart eyes at him since at least boatem.”

scar almost drops the bowl. “whaat? noo, not at all!”

it’s mumbo’s turn to give the withering look.

“look, I know for a fact, that he does not like me.” scar says. his heart clenches as he says it. “and I am certain he likes you.”

“yeah, yeah, he totally wasn’t attached to you just one minute ago.” mumbo says.

“he’s just like that.” scar says.

“he’s not.” mumbo says. “he’s only ever done it to me before.”

scar pauses. “he’s been doing that since 3rd life, for me. I just thought he did that to everyone.”

mumbo smiles. “he once told me he does it to his ‘favourite people’. welcome to the club.”

“oh.” scar can’t hide the smile that’s found its way onto his face.

“you can come in now!” grian’s voice calls from the living room.

mumbo bumps his shoulder against scar’s. “come on. don’t wanna leave him waiting.”

and in scar’s chest, there’s something there, put there by soft smiles and gentle nudges and kind eyes.

scar already knew he’d been crushing on both of them for a while. but now..

well. now, scar is fairly certain he’s tripped and fallen headfirst into love.

so scar picks up the tray and tips the rest of the cookies in the bowl, making sure to place the gingerbread grian and mumbo on top, not bothering to hide his smile.

“if you don’t hurry up, i’ll start it without you!” grian tells them.

“we’re coming, we’re coming!” scar calls back, following mumbo down the corridor.

mumbo opens the door, and stifles a laugh as he sees grian. “you comfy?”

scar snorts. grian is wrapped up in at least three blankets, sat on the right hand side of the sofa, looking very pleased with himself.

“you look very huggable.” scar says as mumbo plonks himself next to grian.

scar follows suit, and sits on the left side of mumbo, putting the bowl on the side table.

“hang on, I need to test that theory.” mumbo says, and scoops grian up.

grian gives a shriek of laughter as mumbo half-lifts him into the air, then plops him back down onto the sofa, holding him like a teddy bear. if scar is mildly flustered over mumbo’s strength, that’s between him and the void.

“yep, very huggable.” mumbo concludes.

“mumbo!” grian squawks, also looking very flustered.

“good to know that tone isn’t reserved for me.” scar grins.

“it’s reserved for both of you, because you seem to enjoy lifting me up.” grian says, pointedly looking at scar.

“look, in 3rd life, you couldn’t see very far! if I lifted you up above my head—which I can because you’re very light—you had a better vantage point!” scar defends. “i was protecting us! and you won, so you’re welcome.”

“we won.” grian corrects. “and it was not because you put me on your shoulders.”

“it was definitely because I put him on my shoulders.” scar mutters to mumbo, who grins.

scar turns to the tv and sees-

“aha! mumbo, you were right.”

mumbo follows his gaze. “oh, muppets again?”

“it’s amazing!” grian says.

“it is surprisingly accurate to the original tale—narrator and all.” scar says. “I mean, of course there’s only one marley and it’s fezziwig not fozziwig, but essentially it’s incredibly similar.”

“whose side are you on?” mumbo says.

“i’m impartial.” scar says cheerfully.

mumbo rolls his eyes. there’s something fond behind the way he smiles, something that makes scar’s chest glow with warmth.

“okay! scar, did you bring the gingerbread?” grian says.

“that I did.” scar says proudly, passing the bowl down to grian.

“mumbo, you are sat on the remote.” grian says, taking the bowl.

“i wasn’t sat on it, I was sat next to it.” mumbo protests, handing grian the remote.

“thank you.” grian grins, and starts the movie.

“are you gonna share any-“

“shh, it’s starting.”

scar finds himself shuffling slightly towards mumbo as the opening credits start to play. he finds it harder and harder to hide his smile when mumbo pulls him closer, wrapping an arm around his waist.

scar learns that grian likes to sing along to the songs, and that his voice is kind of amazing. mumbo bends down and mutters something about ‘ariana griande’.

“is that who was vouching for sahara in season six?” scar asks.

mumbo grins. “yep. grian’s twin sister.”

“you mean, this whole time-“

grian shushes them.

“this whole time, your ‘celebrity’ sponsor was just grian’s twin??” scar whispers, affronted.

“yup.” mumbo says.

“well now I feel better about not having a celebrity sponsor.” scar says.

mumbo grins at him, then turns back to the movie. scar’s gaze lingers for a moment, before he copies mumbo.

scar is half asleep, now leant up against mumbo, when he feels a hand running through his hair. he looks up to see the man in question starting a braid, apparently not realising scar was still awake.

“what’cha up to?” scar smiles lopsidedly.

mumbo blushes pink and drops scar’s hair. “nothing.”

“you can play with my hair, if you want.” scar says. “I like it.”

grian mutters something to himself, looking away.

“what, are you jealous?” mumbo elbows him.

grian gives an unconvincing scoff. “no.”

“oh, g-man, you are!” scar exclaims.

“i’m not!” grian protests. “I have never been jealous in my life, and I can’t believe you-“

“g, do you want to play with my hair?” it’s not quite deadpan, but it was supposed to be.

“maybe.” grian is practically glaring at him, blushing.

scar laughs. “okay, i’ll- oh!”

scar gives a little yelp of surprise as mumbo picks him up, shuffles to the side, and plops him in the middle of the sofa.

if scar was flustered earlier, he’s verging on a heart attack now.

“you- you are very strong.” scar fans his face. yep, he’s definitely awake now. “how are you so strong?”

“sorry, i should have asked.” mumbo says, looking apologetic. apparently, he has mistaken scar being very much in love for discomfort.

“no, nope. it’s fine.” scar’s voice is higher than it should be. “it’s very fine. couldn’t be finer.”

grian is smirking at him.

“are you sure?” mumbo says.

“I am entirely sure.” scar assures him. “I am simply amazed and dazzled by your spectacular strength, mumbo.”

“ah, well, of course.” mumbo grins. “I mean, as you should be.”

“exactly.” scar smiles. “now,”

he shuffles down on the sofa, so his head is lower. grian makes a poorly stifled noise of excitement and immediately starts a braid.

“I love it when your hair is long.” grian says. “it’s so pretty.”

“aw, thank you, g.” scar says, trying and failing not to blush.

mumbo has gone back to running his fingers through scar’s hair. “agreed.”

scar is fine. he’s just watching the movie and isn’t feeling incredibly not-platonic feelings about his two best friends playing with his hair and is totally definitely fine.

“so, specifically why do you two like this movie so much?”

scar doesn’t answer, too busy being completely fine. luckily, grian answers for him.

“because it’s an amazing film! it’s a humorous retelling of a classic that barely strays from the original plot, andincludes the narrator in an involved way.”

scar hums in agreement. “and it has amazing songs.”

“and it has amazing songs.” grian nods.

“well, I can’t disagree with you there.” mumbo says.

“g-man, can I steal a blanket from you?” scar asks.

“you’re just gonna fall asleep.” grian pokes him in the shoulder.

“i’d never!” scar puts a hand over his heart, mock offended. “honestly, to suggest such a thing of me-“

about an hour later, scar is woken up by a loud noise that he can’t quite pinpoint. there’s hurried shushing, and scar cracks an eye open.

“I told you-“ mumbo starts, then glances down at scar and stops.

“well hello there.” scar says, voice still sleepy.

grian huffs a laugh. “was I right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” scar rubs his eyes, looking up at grian.

“you nightmare.” grian smiles at him.

“please, i’m a dream!” scar grins lopsidedly. “you love me!”

“he doesn’t love you enough to be quieter when I tell him you’re about to wake up.” mumbo says.

“oh, i’m so offended, g!” scar puts a hand on his chest dramatically.

“i’ve seen you sleep through everything!” grian protests. “I assumed you weren’t a light sleeper!”

“so you’re saying you’ve slept with me a lot?” scar smirks.

grian smacks his arm with the back of his hand, and scar laughs. “scar!”

“what? I was just asking a question!” scar says innocently.

“menace.” grian grins at him.

“scar, I can’t think of many people with a dirtier mind than you.” mumbo says, starting to braid his hair again.

“oh, you must have completely missed ren and doc last season.” scar says. “they put me to shame, I tell you.”

“I think i’m glad I missed them.” mumbo says. “you’re bad enough.”

“your tiny hat was the best part of the season.” grian says, cackling as scar protests.

“it was not tiny! I had a massive hat!”

“not at the start.” mumbo says, laughter in his voice.

“it was a very sweet little hat.” grian says.

“you guys suck.” scar says, heat in his face.

grian reaches a hand down and essentially cups scar’s cheek, tracing along his scars with his thumb. “your scars all stand out when you blush.” is all the explanation he gives.

“oh.” scar can’t really manage much else.

“scar,”

“mm?”

“why are you an elf this season?” mumbo asks.

“well, why were you all ‘peace love ‘n pants’ last season? it’s fun!” mumbo looks sceptical and scar adds, “and I know you guys like my hair.”

“I still think we should have made you wear an elf hat.” grian says absentmindedly, hand now running through scar’s hair.

“I still think we shouldn’t have given you control over the tv.” mumbo mutters.

“well, I think I shouldn’t have given grian the gingerbread bowl.” scar says. “are there any left?”

both mumbo and grian go quiet at that. but it’s not really the guilty kind of silence (though it is partially), it’s something.. almost embarrassed. shy, scar thinks.

“that’s a no.” scar decides.

“well,” is grian blushing? he looks like he’s blushing. “there are two left.”

grian’s hands move from where they were stroking scar’s hair to pick up the bowl. scar sits up to see the cookies that he decorated placed carefully at the bottom of the otherwise empty bowl—the ones of mumbo and grian.

“we, ah. didn’t want to eat them.” mumbo admits. “we felt bad.”

“aw, you guys.” scar grins, a rush of warmth in his chest. he wants to hold them close and never let them go. “you’re so cute.”

grian laughs and blushes, but mumbo looks even more nervous.

“I should. um.” he’s looking down. “I should tell you guys something.”

scar frowns. “are you okay?”

“do we need to hide a body?” grian adds.

“it- i’m fine, and. no bodies need to be hidden.” mumbo is speaking haltingly, like he’s trying to find the right words. “I just, um. well, i’ve been meaning to tell you guys something for- for a long time. but, I don’t know, I was scared?”

he looks up, and there’s something apprehensive behind his eyes. scar can’t help worrying—is he alright?

“scared?” grian asks gently.

“I didn’t know if i’d.. if i’d muck it all up, if I told you.” mumbo says. “and I honestly don’t know why i’m telling you now.” he gives a chuckle. “I suppose I don’t want to.. keep you in the dark, maybe.”

scar’s voice seems to be stuck in his throat.

“and, you know, avoid me until the day we die if I have mucked it up.” mumbo says, a touch of humour to his words. “but, um. I love you. both of you. a great deal, i’d say.”

scar might be gaping at mumbo, mind reeling. mumbo loves him, loves them. and all this time, scar was chiding himself for even hoping for this, for imagining something that could be-

mumbo clears his throat, and scar zones back in to see mumbo’s expression turned to something reserved and hidden. he doesn’t know, scar can’t believe it, he doesn’t know how much scar loves him.

“and based on your expressions, I have misjudged.” he chuckles again. but now it’s only to fill the silence. “sorry, I shouldn’t-“

“mumbo,” grian’s voice interrupts. “I love you too, you idiot.”

scar is suddenly aware with how much hope he had that grian might feel the same way about him, but of course he doesn’t, of course-

“and, um. well if we’re doing confessions, scar-“

scar looks over at him, chest full of an almost desperate want.

“I love you too.” grian smiles, nervous.

“oh.” scar breathes, and both mumbo and grian look- they look so nervous. “i- this isn’t a prank, right?”

mumbo manages a grin. “definitely not.”

“how- how long?” scar asks.

“god, scar,” mumbo half laughs. “season seven, at least.”

grian nods along with him, face flushed. “at least since the desert.”

“you mean- this whole time i’ve been worrying myself silly, and you-“ scar pauses, taking in the realisation. “you wanted me? too?”

“i- well, I don’t know if you’ve met yourself,” grian says. “but you’re a very wantable person.”

“um, to- to clarify, do you.. feel the same?” mumbo asks hesitantly.

“yes, of course i do! you two saw those cookies-“ he points at the gingerbread men. “-and didn’t realise? i’ve done my own fair share of staring, i’ll have you know.”

“you heard that?” mumbo looks mortified.

“well, i didn’t realise what it meant until right now, but-“

“oh gosh.” mumbo buries his face in his hands, and scar laughs. something unclenches in his stomach as he does.

“if it’s any consolation, mumbo,” grian is blushing as he says it. “I have also spent most of my time staring at both of you.”

“that- that arguably makes it worse!” mumbo’s voice pitches higher. “because now I know that every time I was like ‘no they can’t have been looking, I just want them to have been looking’, you actually were!”

“I cannot believe neither of you knew you liked each other when you basically almost kissed earlier.” grian says.

it’s scar’s turn to blush now. “you- wh- that was noticeable?”

“yes, it was noticeable, you spoon.” grian says. “why didn’t you? it’d have cleared this up faster.”

“well, I didn’t want to intrude.” scar says meekly.

“‘intrude’?” mumbo looks up, pink in the face. “on what?”

“you two, of course.” scar says. “I was under the impression that you two liked each other—because it was fairly obvious, I must say—and I didn’t want to get in the way!”

“you thought-“ grian splutters. “you- as if we- scar!”

“what? I didn’t know!”

“how?” mumbo half laughs. “we were attached to you at any given moment.”

“I just thought that’s how you were!” scar exclaims.

“I- well I guess, specifically around you guys.” grian says.

“you can hardly blame me then!” scar says.

mumbo grins. “it’s a shame you’re so handsome, scar, otherwise we wouldn’t have confused you by falling in love with you immediately.”

scar blushes and grian cackles.

“it’s so much better now you know.” scar says. “‘cause now you know i’m not just an idiot, i’m just an idiot around you guys.”

“ah, well, you’re our idiot now.” mumbo wraps an arm around his waist.

“doed that mean i’m allowed to kiss you?” scar says, looking up at mumbo from where he’s leant up against him.

mumbo turns beet red and stammers something before landing eloquently on, “you- I mean- definitely, yes.”

scar smiles, something gentle and smug at the same time, and presses his lips against mumbo’s. the kiss is short and chaste, but scar feels like his heart is going to burst all the same. his lips are soft and warm, and scar could just about die.

he moves back and laughs at mumbo’s incredibly flustered expression.

“are you alright?” he grins.

“very.” mumbo says. “very very alright.”

“I hope I get a turn soon.” grian says.

when scar turns to him, his cheeks are flushed and he looks almost shy, though determined.

“oh, of course.” scar winks, and moves closer.

grian is the one who closes the gap, and scar can’t help smiling into the kiss as he feels grian’s hand against his cheek. his chapped lips rub against scar’s, and he can’t help thinking the feeling suits grian remarkably well.

“I knew your lips would be soft, but jeez.” grian says when they move apart.

“right?” mumbo agrees.

“what do you mean you knew?” scar’s face is hot.

“it wasn’t just your eyes I was staring at, scar.”

“oh.” scar could explode.

“anyway, mumbo come kiss me.” grian says.

“gladly.”

by morning, the cookies are eaten, and mumbo has a newfound appreciation for the muppets after grian and scar took it in turns to kiss him every time he complained about the movie. they ended up sleeping on the sofa, sprawled across it, limbs and bodies tangled in the blankets, hearts intertwined.

the hermits delight in teasing them, grumpily exchanging diamonds they bet on who’d confess first—no one expected mumbo, to his indignance. the news spreads alarmingly fast to the members of the life games, who all are very happy for them and agree that mumbo was not the person they expected to make the first move.

(in the end, they put the plastic mistletoe to good use. but that’s not for the others to know.)

#mumscarian #redscape #mumscar #scarian #grumbo #why does mumbo/scar have two names I will never understand #no wait it has three #scarbo #when I get polls i’m gonna make one on which name ppl actually use and only use that one #anyway I love them #christmas #<-Very Late but shhhh #hoax writes #i’m actually so proud that I finished this omg #will be on ao3 later and probably more edited at that point lmao

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mourntheantagonist · 2 years

Text

day three: sensory deprivation

requested by you

read on ao3

“Sometimes…it’s just too much.”

They were laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and Billy could just feel the disappointment wafting off of Steve. It had been the second time just that week. They’d be fucking, having a grand old time, and then all of a sudden the bed springs would creak wrong and suddenly Billy was pushing Steve off of him, rolling over, and hiding underneath the covers.

It didn’t used to be like that. Billy used to be able to lose himself completely while having sex. He could get lost in those dark brown eyes, become entranced by a constellation of moles, and the rest of the world around them would seemingly disappear. It was easy. He didn’t have to think.

But that all changed on that night in July, and the only place Billy could get lost was inside his own head.

From that point on, every sound, every bright flash of light, every scratch from textured clothes was magnified times a hundred, and Billy was left overwhelmed, lost, unable to enjoy himself because it was all…

“Too much?” Steve was looking over at him with eyes of pity, and Billy wasn’t so sure which one of them he was pitying, because at the end of the day, neither one of them were getting any.

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing you’re doing wrong. It’s just—” Billy was struggling to explain it in a way that Steve would understand. How does one tell someone they can’t have sex with them because their bed springs are too loud? “I can’t get lost in the moment anymore. There’s too much going on. I know it’s stupid and I’m trying but—”

“Hey. Don’t.” Steve said, rolling over and placing a soft kiss to his forehead, just gentle enough and quick enough that Billy was at least able to enjoy the small gesture. “Listen, of course I’m upset that this is going on but that’s not your fault. I want you to feel good too, so you gotta talk to me so we can try and figure it out together.”

Billy just leaned into Steve, letting his ear find Steve’s chest, feeling and hearing his beating heart, the regular rhythm being somewhat soothing to him. He slowed his breathing and tried to just relax into it, focus on the sound of his heartbeat and nothing else. It wasn’t easy, but the way their rhythms synced made it just that little bit less overwhelming, enough to talk about it without descending into something far deeper than a little bit of sensory overload.

“It’s too loud.” Billy said, the words muffled into Steve’s chest. “The bedsprings.”

Steve just let Billy lay there and talk, he didn’t say anything, he just listened.

“And the trees outside…the branches keep hitting the side of the house, and I’m pretty sure you have a leaky faucet in the bathroom…and it’s. It’s too bright too. It’s like I’m seeing colors I didn’t know existed and not in a good way. It’s like I’m on some bad trip and everything is so bright that I just have to close my eyes which just makes me more aware of all the noise and with everything else going on with you touching me all over it’s just—” Billy stopped talking only because he’d ran out of breath, and he hadn’t realized until then just how much he was rambling. It was as if Steve opened the gates of a zoo, and there was no way he was getting the lion back into its cage. Billy sighed, settling back into Steve’s chest and putting his focus back on Steve’s steadily beating heart. “It’s just too much.”

He didn’t have to turn and look at Steve to know the face he was getting. He could tell by the feeling of air passing through Steve’s nostrils from an audible sigh that he was giving him his signature sad look, and he knew he couldn’t handle seeing it, not when he felt the way he did—like a loser, and a failure. A guy who couldn’t even have sex with his boyfriend without panicking.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?” Steve said, careful with his movements as he brought a hand up to comb his hair, gently rubbing his scalp and clearly trying extra hard not to make a sound. Billy noticed that, and it made him smile, even if he thought figuring out a solution to his issue was futile.

“Yeah, okay.”

About a week had passed since that moment in bed, and they had tried again multiple times with all of Steve’s new ideas. They didn’t work, and Billy knew they wouldn’t work, but fuck he would give anything to be able to have sex with Steve again. So he tried everything. He let Steve black out the curtains and fix the sink and shut off the lights and fuck him on the floor if only just to say that he tried.

But none of it worked. Billy always found himself out of breath and overwhelmed, his muscles marking against his mind as he pushed Steve away, again and again and again.

Billy was ready to give up. Steve? Not so much.

“You want to fuck me in the bathtub?”

Steve rolled his eyes and laughed. “I mean, I could, but that’s not what I was suggesting.”

Billy just looked at him confused, arms crossed over his chest. “Explain it to me then, cause it sounds to me like you wanna fuck me in the bathtub.”

“It’s what El does when she goes into her freaky little mind state. Sometimes, yeah, she uses a bathtub, but most of the time just some white noise and a blindfold is enough to do the trick.” Billy just nodded along, and he’d be lying if he said the word “blindfold” didn’t spark a little something inside of him. “I mean, if it helps El do her cool little magic tricks, I feel like it’s gotta do something for you, right?”

Billy took a deep breath, because yeah, if anything was going to work, it was going to be that…and that freaked him out.

Because what if it didn’t work? What then?

Even still, despite the potential for the painful reality that would come to be if it were to fail, Billy nodded his head. He wasn’t going to not try. He was desperate.

And he could tell that Steve was too, and that made it even harder.

Steve came home the following day with a silk blindfold and a tape that was nothing but static, and Billy just allowed himself to go with the motions, letting Steve walk him up the stairs and down the hall to his room while trying to ignore the growth in his chest over the fear that it wouldn’t work.

Steve was slow and careful with leading him down onto the bed, soft and precise with every touch and every sound, cautious as he placed the Walkman headphones on his ears.

“You’re not gonna be able to hear me in a second so I’ll say this now. If at any point you want me to stop, I will. Just say the word.”

Billy couldn’t help but smile at that. He knew that already, Steve had never once given him any reason to believe otherwise, but it was still nice to hear it.

Billy nodded his head, saying two things at once, that he understood Steve, and that he was ready.

Steve turned on the tape, and it was loud at first—overwhelming—and it almost had him giving up hope right there. He felt his body tense and chest tighten up, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

He just looked up at Steve and into his Dee brown eyes, searching for comfort, and in a short couple of seconds with locked eyes, the white noise faded until he didn’t even realize it was there anyway.

He couldn’t hear a thing.

He knew that because Steve’s lips were moving, but no words were coming out, just silence.

Billy focused, trying to make out what he was saying.

He got the words “blindfold” and “now” and immediately nodded his head, because even though he loved looking up at Steve’s pretty face, he wanted to get lost in the moment again.

The black fabric inched closer and closer until he could feel the soft material make contact, and the darkness consumed him.

And almost instantly, he felt like he was floating.

He could see why El did it. It was like the rest of the world stopped existing, like he was suspended in air, the only sense he was aware of was touch, and that…that was exactly what he wanted to focus on.

He could feel Steve’s hands on him, rubbing up and down his chest, and Billy hadn’t been able to appreciate his hands like that in a very long time. His sense of touch was so heightened it was as if he could feel every ridge making up his finger prints.

It made him so sensitive and so aware of every little thing Steve was doing to him—things that regularly would have been lost in the sea of overpowering senses. Billy was able to appreciate the gentleness in which Steve placed his hands on his, no force behind it, hands resting on his skin like a feather.

He couldn’t hear at all what Steve was saying to him, but Steve was still speaking to him in a language he could understand. He was slow, and careful, and Billy could tell that he was watching his reactions closely every time he touched somewhere knew…and that alone had Billy melting into the mattress.

Steve’s hands scaled down his torso and came to rest on the top of his thighs, squeezing the muscle lightly as he pulled his legs apart and settled in between them. The hair on his arms and legs stood up as he felt a warm wetness meet his inner thigh, and his whole body tingled as he felt his favorite head of hair sweep across his dick.

He didn’t feel like he usually did when he was being touched in so many spaces—overwhelmed by everything going on—because it was the first time that every bit of information his brain was receiving was pleasant, and there was no need to try and divert focus anywhere else.

He was free to exist. Free to breathe. Free to relax and let it all happen.

The warmth he felt had quickly gone cold, and after a short period of time where he was back to being suspended in space, none of Steve’s touches present to ground him, he felt something far colder in a place that made him smile and squirm a bit.

Steve had responded to Billy’s movements with pause, once again making sure he was still okay, it was like his hands could speak to him, asking, “are we still good?”

Billy just nodded his head and urged him to keep going.

Steve, all lubed up and ready to go, responded by pushing his finger all the way in, down to the knuckle, twisting and curling and teasing just like he always did, and Billy’s head involuntarily tilted back, back arched, never like before. Unlike previous times, this time he was extremely aware of every little sensation that the singular finger presented, and it was at that point that Billy knew he was in for a wild ride…and he’d never been so desperate in his life for Steve to fuck him than he was in that moment.

He could feel it like a buildup with each passing second, the sensations just becoming more powerful the more he lost sense of everything but his sense of touch. One finger turned to three, and the pressure increased, Steve was pressing kisses to his stomach and it was all beginning to be…so much.

But not too much.

In fact, Billy just wanted more.

He made use of his own hands, finally figuring out he wasn’t actually floating in air, and that he wasn’t tied down, and remembering that just because he couldn’t hear Steve, it didn’t mean that Steve couldn’t hear him.

He snaked his hand down until he found that gorgeous head of hair, gorgeous in sight, but also in touch—so soft and smooth. He wrapped his hand around to the nape of his neck and pulled him back up from his stomach to meet him face to face.

He was blindfolded, yet he could still see Steve. He could picture him perfectly, mouth hung open and eyes wide staring down at him, all from the feeling of his breath hot against his face.

Billy pulled him down, cutting off that breath, and sinking into the feeling of Steve’s soft lips, wet and covered in drool that would be exchanged between them.

Steve still had a finger inside of him as they kissed, curled and pressing down hard and pushing in deep. He kissed him deeply, and his movements felt perfectly calculated, and it wasn’t until then that Billy realized just how good Steve was at multitasking.

Billy had no concept of time, but it felt like they had been kissing forever when he finally pushed him up and away from him, sure to smile and not let his hand leave Steve’s cheek so he was sure this wasn’t him pushing him away like before, because that was the part where Billy usually had enough and couldn’t go any further.

He didn’t push Steve away, instead he just held his face there right above him, relishing in his warm breath, and he spoke.

“Fuck me.”

He was unable to hear himself, but he was certain the words came out correctly when Steve reacted by moving back down, and moving much quicker than before.

Steve pushed his feet up so that his knees were bent and spread apart for him, and Billy felt himself whimper at the feeling of being empty of Steve’s fingers while anticipating something far greater. He could feel the dips in the bed moving around, but he couldn’t hear the bed springs creak, and the absence of those sensations made him sigh in relief.

And then the dips stopped moving, settled back in between his legs, and he felt Steve’s cock against his hole and it was like he was about to be struck by lightning.

And then he was struck by lightning, his hole breached as Steve slid inside of him, filling him up and sending a shockwave up his spine, and Billy was honestly grateful that he couldn’t hear anything for the simple fact that he knew whatever sounds were coming out of him were absolutely humiliating.

It was nice not to care about them.

From that moment forward, it was everything, all at once.

Steve was fucking into him while his hands moved along his body, at the same time dragging his tongue along every bit of skin it could reach.

It was so fucking much.

It was overwhelming.

But fuck, it was overwhelming in the best way possible.

Everything coming in was good, there was none of the bad.

He had finally managed to lose himself in the moment.

And shit, well, it was all so much that he wasn’t totally sure he was going to last all that long. Even with no real sense of time, he knew it would still be cut short, but hey, it would still wind up lasting much longer than all the times before when he pushed him off.

He could feel himself audibly making noises, the vibrations against his closed lips being apparent of that, and he could only wonder what Steve was feeling about that part. Billy couldn’t hear sound, but Steve could, and he had always made a point to milk him of whatever moans, groans, and whimpers he could get out of him. He always loved them, and Billy was making no effort to hold back.

So he could only hope that Steve was enjoying himself every bit as much as he was.

It was a combination of bucking hips and gripped sheets and clenched teeth and eyes rolled to the back of his head when it all happened. Once again, he felt like he was floating, the only sensation he could really feel was himself spilling over onto his stomach, and he realized for a moment that even if the blindfold was off and his ears were uncovered, at that point, he wouldn’t have been able to hear or see anything regardless.

Time was still not a concept he could totally grasp, but he knew enough by the instant Steve’s thrusts grew erratic and more forceful that he wasn’t that far behind.

“In me.” Billy said. He could feel the words come out like a gasp, all forceful and desperate. “I wanna feel it.”

Not too long after that, Billy did feel it, he felt all of it. Quick and frantic thrusts suddenly stopped and the light touches against his hips became heavy as Steve’s weight moved from his knees to his hands, coming to rest his chest on the sticky mess of his stomach as he came inside of him.

Billy found himself clinging onto Steve, the pressure of his body weight soothing and grounding, like a weighted blanket. So warm. So calming. So peaceful.

Billy couldn’t wait any longer to take the blindfold off, having to see what he knew would be a beautiful sight—Steve Harrington lying on his stomach in complete and utter bliss, mouth hung open, covered in sweat and drool, panting like a dog on a hot day.

And Billy was right, he was absolutely gorgeous.

Billy brought a hand into Steve’s hair, petting him, and reminding himself how it felt when touch was the only sense he was perceiving—soft, silky, smooth. He already loved his hair, but now he was able to appreciate it even more.

He was able to appreciate a lot of things even more.

Billy smiled down at Steve, taking in the beauty and relishing in the fact that it was no longer too much to handle.

Lying in bed with Steve at that moment, the heat between them, the heavy breathing and messy hair and limbs made of jelly…

It was perfect. Not too much.

Just enough.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #mandi writes tresh #I know I’m a day late shhhh

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