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yacinthemorning · 10 months

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Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 1

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Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hyrbid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, no workplace safety, awkward flirting

“Stay still.”

“I’m- ow! I’m trying! Stop stabbing me!”

“I wouldn’t poke you if you remained still!”

Grian let out an awful hiss, of which Jimmy simply returned before focusing back on his work. With careful hands he pinned back the linen around the base of Grian’s bright, colourful wings. Normally it was quite difficult even with a behaved customer thanks to the down that bridged into the back’s flesh. Luckily, Jimmy was an expert at this particular issue thanks to his own avian heritage. Despite further protests accompanied by goading from Scar across the room, Jimmy acquired the right measurements needed, and began pulling the linens off. “Okay, that’s all for today.” He assured.

Grian hardly waited, hopping away to the bench his companions waited for him upon. Mumbo held out his old clothes – filled with holes and poor patchwork that had also since worn through. He glared at Jimmy. “It’s a miracle you stay in business with the way you treat your customers like glorified pin cushions!”

“Oh, it’s a particularly special treatment.” Jimmy beamed, crossing his arms. “I save my best customer service just for you, my dear brother.”

He got a sniff in reply before Grian stomped out. Mumbo stepped forward instead, rummaging through his coin purse. “Sorry about that, Jim. He’s ornery about having to replace his sweater.”

“I don’t see why he should be. It’ll end up within reach in his nest.” Jimmy shrugged as he counted out the coins. “Like every other exactly identical sweater I’ve made him.”

“It’s true! I can hardly tell what’s sweater and what’s feather in that thing anymore.” Scar pushed himself up with his cane and a chuckle.

A raised eyebrow was directed to him, but Jimmy was unsure the vexling noticed. Instead, he simply logged it away in his mind. A pparently, they were at the stage of sharing nest- and nobody bothered to tell him, of course. “Well, you know how the routine goes, come back in a week for fitting. I practically know his order by heart now and have all the supplies ready.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Tim. Come over for tea sometime soon!” Shouted Scar as Mumbo opened his parasol and guided him out the shop door. It jingled upon their exit, and Jimmy waited until it came to a full stop before he stopped waving. With a sigh, he placed the linens down at his desk, then collapsed into his chair. His brother always felt like at least a full day’s work on his own.

Jimmy was sorting through his fabrics to find the right shade of red when there was a strange scratching sound, followed by the jingle of door bells and a curse. His desk’s Gaslamp shuddered like a warning. Jimmy looked up in time to see a man slinking through his half-opened door like a scolded animal. He was cloaked in rough leather and quite frankly looked like he’d just been pulled out of a well. Steam simmered in the air from his head, and a limp tail dragged a bit too slowly behind, eliciting a cattish screech when the door clamped down on its tufted end.

Jimmy’s feathers raised defensively, in instinct and appalment. “Hello?” Was the only greeting he could muster. The man fell to his knees, and it was then that Jimmy noticed how much he shook. It activated some protective part of his soul, pushing him forward to aid the man to his feet. But just as quickly as he reached out the stranger pulled back, throwing a hand with blackened claws up.

“Don’t- Don’t touch me.” His scratchy voice warned. “You’ll burn.”

“Well I can’t very well help you without touching you!” Jimmy huffed.

The stranger shook his head, though. “You’re a… specialty tailor, right?” Even his voice shook.

Curiosity piqued, Jimmy crouched down to look his guest in the eye. They were a deep red, glowing like embers, and darting about nervously. At first, Jimmy thought he might have been attacked and was searching for threats. On closer inspection, however, it was his own hands and knees he kept checking, shifting, as if they were untrustworthy. Jimmy nodded. “I am. I work with avians mostly, but I can tailor for any hybrid.”

The stranger’s tail perked up at that, mouth cautiously tilting up with it. “Do you… Can you make clothing that’s fireproof?”

“I can certainly try.” He said with a raised eyebrow. He held out his hand once more, but the man flinched back once again. “You know I can’t say I’m too eager to work, however, for mysterious men who collapse on my floor and will barely look at me.”

“O-oh! Ah, yeah, ha…” Seemingly newly aware of his appearance, the man stumbled onto his feet. He still shivered, and below the drenched rags his knees wobbled like they’d never held his weight before. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’m Tango.” A wide grin stretched across his face, strained almost into a grimace. Impossibly sharp teeth chattered together.

Despite the posture he took up for a greeting, he still refused to offer his hand even in a polite handshake. That one Jimmy couldn’t say he minded. It was a greeting that was almost entirely human, for those without other appendages to utilize. He was much more familiar with a flutter and caw, or a flare of fins, or the curl of a tail.

Jimmy tried to give as friendly a smile back as he could muster. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tango. Call me Jimmy. Now…” With Tango on his feet the muddy puddle forming under him became evident. “Would you care to share with me why you’ve come to my shop in this… state?”

“It, well… It’s a bit of a story…” The rags were pulled tighter around him. “But, um, I need clothes, is the long-short of it.”

“I can see that, yes.” Unsure what else to do if the man would not let him touch him to help, Jimmy returned to his work desk and reached for his cabinet of manuals. “You don’t, um… Not to presume from your appearance, which I’m guessing is not some bold fashion statement or typical, but I’m assuming you aren’t looking for anything too fancy?”

A strained sound escaped him, that might have been a laugh if the poor creature in front of Jimmy wasn’t so miserable. “They don’t exactly make slops for blazeborn. Even at the mines.”

“Most hybrids around here can get away with a few personal alterations, but fireproofing is a bit of a challenge without imports from the Nether.” He pulled up some of his most basic draft designs. Undergarments, a simple shirt, trousers, maybe a jacket… No, Tango probably couldn’t afford a jacket, from the pay Fwhip told him the miners received. The feathers of his ears flexed as he tilted his head around the design in front of him. Well, there was nothing stopping Jimmy from perhaps whetting his skills by making one, that perhaps happened to fit Tango…

Tango shifted, first taking a step towards the bench that sat pushed up against the window, then froze, before he shuffled back to where he stood before. Jimmy waved his hand. “Sit, sit. This’ll take a while.”

“I- I can’t. I might…”

“It’s treated, it won’t go up in flames that easily. Besides, you’re sopping wet.”

Reluctantly, cautiously, the blazeborn made his way over. One would have thought he was about to sit down on a porcupine. Eventually, though, he managed to sit himself, and like Jimmy promised it failed to burst into flames at mere contact. Of course, he’d pulled the claim from thin air. He’d never worked with a blazeborn before and he hardly knew a thing about carpentry. It was a good guess, at least he thought so, from the fact that the floorboards were not singed.

“So, um, how long will it take?” Tango asked, finally letting himself shuffle into a more comfortable position.

Jimmy hummed as he used his talon to flip through pages. “Well, I don’t exactly have weepweave or hoglin leather lying in storage, and I can’t say I’ve seen it in the market, so I’ll have to special order it which will likely take a few weeks-”

“Wha- A few weeks ?” Tango balked.

“- But we could test some more locally available materials in the meantime, at which point it will take a few days to complete the set.”

His customer seemed wary of even that but settled down, nonetheless. “I might need, uh, at least two.”

“Two?” Jimmy frowned.

“Sets. Of clothes. This is…” He tugged on the rags. “This is all I have left.”

Jimmy stared, eyes wide and brow knotted. On closer inspection the rags maybe once were an acceptable work outfit, but they’d been ruined beyond salvaging. Torn apart and set ablaze. Jimmy guessed at least the undershirt was some type of weepweave from its slight teal colour and being the most intact piece, but the rest was cotton.

“I see.” Said Jimmy. He walked over to his fabric stores and shuffled through his sample drawer until he found what he needed. “Gimme your arm.”

Tango hackles raised. “You’ll-”

“I’m going to have to measure and fit you later. If I can’t touch you, I can’t make clothes for you.” Jimmy tutted. “Come on, I just need to check what materials will survive.”

It took another minute of patience but eventually the blazeborn offered up his arm. Jimmy gave him a grateful chirp, a tone he hoped was calming to the non-avian. There was an odd jolt in his shoulders, but it settled as he placed the sample to his arm.

Jimmy could feel how warm his skin really was. Too hot, but certainly not hot enough to cause fabric to burst into flames. It was more like a high fever, but he wasn’t flushed with one. Jimmy looked up to his face, which was contorted with fear, unblinkingly trained on the fabric. His hair was dampened down like he’d been caught in a rainstorm, but the strands danced on their own. Little cinders would light in them before they fizzled out into steam.

“How does this texture feel to your skin?” Asked Jimmy. To what extent he needed to specialize his work for a blazeborn was beyond his knowledge.

Tango shrugged. “It’s fine. Soft.”

“Soft?” Jimmy couldn’t help chuckle. Compared to the other wools in his collection this one was rather coarse. “Well, that’s good to know. I don’t know how hot you can become, but wool is quite resistant to fire. Burns out before it can spread. I don’t know if it’ll be too warm for you, though.”

“No! No, no, that's fine. Warm’s… good.” His tail swayed, curly up over his leg before falling back to the side. “It’s a lot colder here.”

Backing up, Jimmy offered a smile. “Then wool it is. Do you, um, I suppose you don’t have much issue with sweating?”

“No, can’t do that even if it was warm.”

“Excellent. Then, let me get measurements started.”

Tango still seemed unsure, but a polite smile formed on his lips as he nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Measurements became awkward as they realized Tango had no clothes to wear while doing so. In the end, Jimmy offered him one of his undershirts. It was too tight around the shoulders and too long in the midsection, but it would do. Seeing the linen fail to catch fire when he wore it also did well to calm Tango from whatever situation had spooked him in the first place. In the following hours Tango offered no explanation, and so Jimmy offered no questions.

Then there was the matter of… well, rather the same matter of Tango still lacking clothing. He could not very well go out into public so indecent. They settled on Jimmy rushing his order and letting him stay overnight. “I’m probably fired and thrown out of the company barracks, anyways.” He laughed humourlessly. Jimmy was far from wealthy, but he had a bench and extra blankets. Hopefully he would have something to wear by the morning so he could retrieve his things.

Of course, there was a good chance the man just wanders off with his new clothes to never be seen again. Tango asked Jimmy if he was worried about that very situation. What was Jimmy to do, though? Go to the police about a man who swindled him out of a few dollars of his cheapest fabric and thread? Not seeing a man run around town as bare as the day he was born was probably enough compensation. Jimmy wasn’t that stingy.

It was probably why he wasn’t wealthy, instead stuck in a mining town whose mines were already drying up.

Jimmy wasn’t much of a cook, but he could stew up some meat and vegetables. “You might as well have some.” He didn’t give space for Tango to protest, placing a bowl in front of him.

“Is that curry?” Tango asked in awe.

“It was a gift for putting up with my brother’s... poor decorum.” A spicy scent wafted up from his spoon. Truth be told he wasn’t a fan the last time he got to try some, but there was no reason to let it go to waste.

Tango showed no hesitation after that. The curry was inhaled within minutes. “Man, I haven’t had a lick of curry since I left the Nether.” He sighed, licking his chops of the last flecks. “It’s so expensive here, like it’s a delicacy or something.”

“When you have to import the ingredients from so far, it is.”

“Mmm. Everything from the Nether is hard to get here.” Melancholy seeped into the blazeborn’s gaze. “And money’s harder to come by. You make copper on the diamond as a digger in those mines. And they take most of it just to equip you.”

Jimmy smiled sympathetically. “They don’t call it the wild west for nothing. Labour laws are merely suggestions out here.”

“You seem to be doing fine for yourself, to help out a beggar like me.” A fork pointed accusatively at the tailor. “Your brother… You mean that Grian guy, right? The profiteer.”

“He prefers the term ‘investor,’ but yes.”

“The swindler.” Tango narrowed his eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Jimmy laughed. “Indeed, that’s him.”

“He’s the reason that quack and that inventor stay in business. They sold our mine a bunch of equipment that fell apart the next day. I don’t know how they stuck around town after that. How’s a sweet apple like you fall from the same tree as that bad egg?”

“Unless you’re attempting to imply something, I think you’ve confused your metaphors.” Giggling through every word was becoming difficult to resist. Tango seemed aware of this, sharp teeth forming into a mischievous smirk.

Neither took much notice when the old grandfather clock struck eight, then nine, and then ten.

Tango twirled around in the centre of Jimmy’s studio, new clothing flaring out in all directions where it had not been properly tucked in. “How does it look?” He asked, pride shown in his stance.

With a tilt of his head, Jimmy responded, “I think I need to bring the waist a bit more.”

“More adjustments?” Immediately the netherborn deflated.

“I’m afraid that’s how it goes.”

“Clothing in the Nether is never this fitted.” He complained while Jimmy got back to work unpinning. “Neither are slops.”

Jimmy clicked his tongue, having just barely avoided stabbing his finger. If he were to keep count, Grian’s claims of harm would seem laughable beside the number of times the only one who was hurt by Jimmy’s sewing was himself. “Then asking an avian to clothe you was a grave mistake on your part.”

“Actually, I think that’s the best decision I’ve made in years. I don’t see any other handsome tailors offering to make me new clothes on his own dime.”

“Oh, stop it or I’ll take it back.” Jimmy grumbled, though his cheeks had turned red.

The doorbell chimed, forcing both men to pause and turn to the new intruder.

It was a goblin, not just any of the many from the mines - workers and children alike – but one who stood a bit taller than a goblin should. Dressed in decorated silks mixed with his rough work clothes, Fwhip was an immediately recognizable man. And it was hard not to know the man who practically owned the half-dozen mining towns in the area – or literally owned them if you were misfortunate enough to live within the neighbourhoods of barracks. In his hand was a bundle wrapped tight in a rough red weepweave cloth, and he peered around until his eyes first settled on Tango before spotting Jimmy and frowning. Jimmy couldn’t blame him, as his own mood soured significantly.

“Fwhip, what misfortune brings you back to my shop? Considering the ban and all.” He wrinkled his nose at the goblin. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea to antagonize him, but intelligence rarely drove Jimmy’s choices.

Tango’s ears pinned back. “What’s up, boss?”

“So, you are here, Tango.” Fwhip ignored Jimmy and approached his – former? – employee. “I heard someone say they saw you run off here into this mediocre shop. I came to return your things- what wasn’t burnt away, at least.”

A wry smile stretched across his face as he took up the bundle. “I’m guessing my job isn’t among them?”

“You were a good employee Tango, good with the machines, but no. I can barely manage to convince folks it’s safe to still sleep in the left wing at all.”

“Is it safe?” Jimmy asked and raised an eyebrow, to which he only received a shrug.

“I get it. Thanks for bringing my stuff.”

“If you ever need a good word put in, call me up.” Promised Fwhip. “You know, maybe this is for the best. You were always too good for the work you did.”

There was a small grunt in response. Tango had preoccupied himself with examining his belongings, which from the smell alone one could tell had not escaped whatever fiery incident had occurred. A strange sense of protectiveness – and maybe just a bit of spite – drove Jimmy to speak up on his behalf. “If that is all, we were in the middle of business, and you are still banned.”

With a pat on the back for the unemployed and an indignant snort towards the shopkeeper, Fwhip left. Good riddance, as far as Jimmy was concerned. But Tango was less joyous.

Cradled in the rough cloth were a pair of heavily burnt work boots, a half-consumed blazerod, three tins of what Jimmy assumed to be redstone from the stains, and what appeared to be…

“Are those goat horns?” Jimmy spoke incredulously. Tango chuckled.

“Durable. Good for piping redstone, and not a half-bad instrument!”

He hummed, returning to his work. “You know a bit of redstone, then? Somehow that suits you.”

“Was my job, back in the Nether. Though, even before I came here I couldn’t seem to find good work with it.”

“I heard from Mumbo and Scar that you can make light with it.”

“Yep, if you activate it then it’ll give off its own light, though usually you use it with glowstone to make lamps. It’s a bit similar to prismarine crystals or frog glass.”

“And I’m to assume the price is also similar?”

“Oh, of course.”

Tango continued his chatter about redstone and light, which evolved into machinery, the descriptions of which Jimmy found difficult to wrap his mind around. All the while he pinned and trimmed and stitched. Before either knew it, the work had been done. Jimmy had sat down, watching the blazeborn ramble on with amusement, curious to when he would notice. Once it reached a full hour, and it became clear that Tango would go on in perpetuity if not stopped by an external force, Jimmy finally spoke up.

“Tango, that’s lovely and I would very much like to hear more about clank circuits,” He softly interrupted with an outstretched hand which he gently placed on Tango’s forearm. “But if you could spare a moment, I’d very much like to know what you think of your clothes?”

“Oh? Oh!” It finally occurred to the man that there was no more work to be done, spinning on the spot to look at himself. Laughing a bit to himself, Jimmy indicated towards the large set of full-length mirrors beside him. The clothes were simple, thick for insulation and work, and dyed various dull reds and dark browns. It looked acceptable, though Jimmy was already playing with ideas for when the Nether materials came in to make something much nicer.

For Tango’s part, he seemed pleased regardless, his tail stuttering with too much energy. “This is amazing! I watched you do it and I don’t get how you put it together.”

“Well, that’s because you don’t know what you’re looking at.” Jimmy offered. “I’m sure with your brain for machinery you could figure it out easily if you were to stick around.”

His ears perked. “Can I?”

“Excuse me?”

“Stay, I mean.” It seemed to suddenly occur to him the oddity of his request, shrinking in on himself. “I, uh, well I don’t really have anywhere else to go, and Tumble Town has no workhouse.”

Jimmy’s wings flared in appalment. “I would never send you to one if there were! Although, I don’t exactly have comfortable long-term accommodation for you.” He hummed for a moment, thinking. “I suppose my brother has guestrooms now, if I understood correctly what I heard yesterday.” The last part he whispered to himself.

“The bamboozler?” Tango asked in disappointment.

It was all Jimmy could do to not roll his eyes. “I’d say ‘get over it’, but I grew up living with him, so I understand. Fine, you can stay here, but I’m finding you something more comfortable to sleep on at the very least.”

“I bet your bed’s comfy.” Tango grinned.

“It is, I sleep there.”

“Well, I never said you had to sleep somewhere else.”

Jimmy was already beginning to think that, perhaps, this was all one great big mistake.

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #team rancher #rancher duo #mumscarian #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #mcyt #traffic series #hermitpires #fanfic #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #fluff #slice of life #western fantasy #alternate universe #sharing a slice of cake

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