Chapter Text
A light grunt escapes from Grian’s lungs as he collapses on a random surface in Mumbo’s study. He isn’t paying full attention to where he’s sitting himself down, dropping himself on the table. Despite the hard surface, it’s nice to be off his feet. He dumps his bag on the ground beside him.
Mumbo doesn’t say anything as he walks over to the door, swinging it open. He pauses for a moment, sneaking a glance at Grian, who is staring down at the ground. Frowning slightly, he leaves Grian, rushing out the room.
Grum and Jrum are nowhere to be found, and Grian finds himself feeling a bit thankful for that. With the chance to sit, his exhaustion is sweeping over him like a broom to dust. His body sags, and had he been leaning against the wall, he’d have probably slumped against it. Instead his hands hang limply in his lap, head hung low. He shuts his eyes a few times, trying to blink the sleepiness away.
He goes over the events of the past couple of hours, trying to keep his thoughts from trailing too far.
It’s quiet in Mumbo’s study. His arm stings and flares with pain. The clock mindlessly ticks away, creating background noise, something simple for Grian to follow rather than his thoughts. The wooden table is uncomfortable to sit on for long, but Grian stubbornly doesn’t move. He really doesn’t want to, not when his body is aching.
The door to the study creaks and Grian’s eyes flicker back open. He lifts his head up to see Mumbo coming over to him, some kind of pensive expression on his face.
There’s a first aid kit in his hands, a sight that faintly surprises Grian. “Sorry, it took me a moment to remember where I had put this,” Mumbo apologizes, waving the kit around for show. He walks over to Grian, grabbing a chair and pulling it over. He looks at Grian’s arm and seems to wince.
“I can do it if it’ll bother you,” Grian offers with a slight frown, watching the way Mumbo’s gaze lingers on his injury. The bleeding has stopped by now.
Mumbo looks at him with confusion, “It doesn’t bother me.”
Grian blinks, “Are you sure? I just thought since it was blood and all… y’know, vampire thing?”
At that, Mumbo huffs quietly. He reaches for the kit, flicking the tabs up so he can open it. “I won’t be tempted to bite you because of the sight of your blood, rest assured,” he grumbles, almost seeming offended that Grian would even insinuate the very thought.
“I meant for you, you spoon,” Grian quickly corrects him, lips lowering in a frown, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
It’s Mumbo’s turn to blink, looking at Grian with genuine surprise. “O-Oh,” he stammers. He then coughs into his fist, “Well in that case, I’ll be fine. I’m uhm, not hungry for it or anything, so the scent or sight won’t bother me.”
Grian nods in satisfaction. He looks down at his jumper, humming quietly. “Well this’ll be in the way. Hang on.” Without hesitating, Grian moves to tug it over his head. He’s left with just his undershirt: a long sleeve white button up.
As he begins to unbutton it, Mumbo splutters, “W-What are you doing?!”
“Giving you access to my arm?” Grian returns, looking at him with a raised brow. “It’d be hard to bandage with my jumper on.” He finishes unbuttoning and carefully slides his injured arm out of his sleeve with a slight hiss.
Mumbo watches, the tips of his ears turning red. He turns back to the first aid kit and begins to shuffle through it, looking for whatever he needs. He grabs disinfectant and bandages.
It’s quiet as Mumbo grabs a small square packet, something Grian recognizes as antiseptic. He rips it open, and Grian catches a whiff of the chemicals. It makes him shudder, stomach turning at the intense smell. It isn’t even that close to him but it’s so powerful that he can smell it with no problem. Mumbo leans toward him, holding the patch over his injury. He seems to pause for a second. “This’ll probably sting, mate,” he warns.
“Just do it,” Grian demands with a grumble in response. Though he promptly regrets his demand when his arm stings as soon as he feels the cold stinging against his upper arm. He clenches his fists, hissing softly in pain.
Mumbo doesn’t say anything as he cleans the wound thoroughly, face set in detached focus. The stinging continues for a few seconds longer, and when it dies down, Grian’s arm is left aching, and he decides for the future to do everything he possibly can to avoid any injury. If only to avoid the pain of an antiseptic wipe again. Mumbo grabs the bandages next and begins to wrap his wound. His touch is delicate, gentle, as he works.
“You’re pretty good at this for a vampire who has no friends,” Grian remarks.
Mumbo doesn’t pause in his movements, “Well I don’t live alone, you know. With Grum and Jrum I had to learn. But my first few attempts were quite pants,” he laughs.
Grian smiles softly at that.
They fall into a short silence, Mumbo finishing up his work. He makes sure to tie off the bandage just tight enough so that it’s secure, but not painful. When he pulls back, Grian hums in thanks. He looks at his arm, seeing the bandages wrapped snugly around the injury. His arm certainly still aches, and it probably will for a while. He tries to move it around, if only to see how badly it’ll hurt.
Grian sighs in relief when he feels it isn’t too bad, and he moves to put his jumper and shirt back on. He takes care to slip his injured arm through the button up sleeve first.
Mumbo watches him for a few moments, his expression unreadable. Though perhaps that’s something normal for Mumbo. Grian has never been able to get a clear read on him, and he wonders if he ever will.
Mumbo leans back in his chair, glancing at the bandages that are now hidden by the sleeve of Grian’s jumper. His mouth sets into a thin line, and he takes a breath. “Grian, can I ask you something?”
Grian sends him a teasing grin, “You just did.” Mumbo looks at him, so completely unimpressed that it makes him laugh. “Well go on.”
“Why did you jump to protect me like that?” Mumbo questions, not bothering to beat around the bush. He’s frowning, eyes looking conflicted and confused. “I would have been just fine, you know.”
Humming softly, Grian considers his question. If he’s being honest, he sort of just moved without thinking. He saw something dangerous and his body reacted accordingly, not giving his brain a moment to think it through. And with Mumbo being distracted because of him… well, the answer was obvious. So he looks at Mumbo and frowns, “You would’ve gotten hurt.”
“As I said, I would have been fine. Mostly immortal being and all that,” Mumbo replies, a humorless chuckle accompanying him. He looks so confused, and Grian can’t help but wonder why. “I suppose I just don’t understand why you’d risk your life like that for me. We hardly know each other, and had that skeleton aimed anywhere else, it might have killed you. But you didn’t hesitate to protect me.” Mumbo looks so serious as he speaks, and Grian can’t help but lightly laugh.
“Is it really so hard to believe I just did it because I didn’t want you to get hurt?” Grian questions. He thinks of Taurtis. His chest squeezes.
“Yes, it is!” Mumbo exclaims in return, beginning to look frustrated with him. “You humans always have some kind of ulterior motive. You’re driven by selfishness and most of you are painfully obvious about it. But you – you baffle me,” Mumbo explains, eyebrows pinching together as he goes on. It makes Grian want to poke his forehead where his skin wrinkles, just to smooth out the lines of stress.
To that, Grian sighs softly. He looks down at his lap, idly messing with his fingers. His traitorous mind thinks about his best friend lying in a hospital bed, close to death. He squeezes his hands together. “I guess it was kind of selfish of me,” he starts quietly, “and yeah, maybe there was an ulterior motive.”
Mumbo huffs with something akin to triumph, as if proud of himself for finally seeing through whatever act he thinks Grian has been performing for him.
“I saw that skeleton aiming a weapon at you and thought ‘I don’t want someone else I care about to get hurt again because of me.’ So I moved. But you’re right, I didn’t just do it to protect you. I did it thinking that maybe it’d help me stop feeling so guilty.”
Some kind of noise punches out of Mumbo, as if it were air escaping a balloon. He deflates at that, looking at Grian with big, startled eyes. “Guilty?” Mumbo asks, and his voice sounds far quieter than before.
Grian pointedly doesn’t look up at Mumbo, continuing to stare down at his hands instead. “My best friend was attacked by the murderer we’re looking for, and it was my fault. I knew the risks of staying out too late, I knew what could happen. But I ignored it, I thought it wouldn’t happen to any of us, that the possibility just couldn’t happen. And then he got separated from Pearl and I and–” he cuts himself off, feeling the way the guilt begins to claw up his throat. It chokes him, makes it hard to continue to speak. He squeezes his hands tighter together, if that were even possible. The strain hurts, but he doesn’t care.
Mumbo looks at him with disbelief, red eyes wide and unseeing. “That’s… that’s why you came to me,” he realizes, “That’s why you wanted to help so badly…”
Nodding his head, Grian takes a breath, “It’s my fault he nearly died, Mumbo. He’s laying in a hospital bed alone and I can’t even bring myself to visit him because I don’t think I have the right to.” He looks up at Mumbo finally, meeting his sad, solemn, red eyes. “That’s why I jumped at you. I know you hate me and all that, but I happen to like you, and I – I couldn’t stomach the thought of being the reason why someone got hurt again.”
Neither of them speak for a moment, letting their words hang heavy in the air. Even though Grian’s chest feels heavy, it almost feels a bit lighter. Mumbo is the first person he’s told all of this to, and it’s rather… nice. To finally be able to tell someone. Even if his thoughts will be proven correct by the vampire, it’s–
Grian doesn’t see it, but Mumbo’s face softens as he looks at him. His hand twitches, as if wanting to reach out and touch him. He doesn’t move it. “Oh Grian… I’m so sorry,” he apologizes softly.
“Don’t,” Grian sharply replies. He meets Mumbo’s sympathetic gaze with a frown. “I don’t deserve it.”
“What? Of course you do!” Mumbo tries to argue, “You call me the spoon, but I think you’re a bit daft yourself, bud,” he huffs lightly, making Grian splutter for a defense. “Look, Grian, unless you’re leaving out a part where you told our mysterious killer to attack your friend, then I don’t believe it was your fault. It was simply a case of the wrong place at the wrong time,” he says decidedly. “It doesn’t mean you’re at fault for what happened, even if you knew there was a killer on the loose. You couldn’t have known that he would get hurt.”
Grian finds himself feeling a bit surprised at that, and he stares at Mumbo. He tries to formulate some kind of response, but he honestly finds himself a little speechless.
Mumbo plows on, unbothered by Grian’s obvious shock, “I bet you if you went to visit him, he’d be more than happy to see you, mate. And if you really want his forgiveness, then just apologize.” Mumbo shrugs lightly, though there’s a look of understanding that briefly flashes in his eyes. “Human life only lasts for so long. Don’t waste it.”
For some reason, the storm that’s been raging inside Grian’s mind for the past few days finally quiets. He stares at Mumbo, something warming his chest. Gratitude. And he huffs softly, exhaling with a light chuckle, “Good with medical stuff and pep talks? Have you considered becoming a doctor?” he jokes, if only because he can’t find the proper words right now to express himself. He still feels guilty, but Mumbo has helped rid some of that guilt. He knows the only other person who can completely absolve him is waiting for him to stop by.
Mumbo snorts, “Goodness no. Being around humans all day? I think I’ll pass.” His tone is lighthearted, and there’s something shining in his eyes as he says it. Something about Mumbo feels lighter, maybe even a bit more sincere. And then he looks at Grian with a soft expression, lips quirking up in a little smile. “Your reason for protecting me isn’t as selfish as you think it is,” he says, and Grian stills. “I suppose I owe you my gratitude. You did save me from complaining about the pain of an arrow wound, after all,” he jokes.
Grian snorts, “You’re welcome! I’ve just gone and done it for you instead.”
“Exactly! Hence my thank you!” Mumbo laughs, and despite the heaviness over his heart, Grian finds himself laughing with him. It’s freeing, in a way.
And when their laughter dies down, Grian is smiling. Mumbo looks at him, something soft in his gaze. “What? Why’re you looking at me like that?” Grian asks him, lifting a brow.
“It’s—” The vampire pauses, abruptly stopping himself. He shakes his head, that soft expression still on his face. Though there’s a hint of regret in his eyes, “I think I also owe you an apology, if I’m honest.”
Grian blinks, “Sorry, what?” He stares at Mumbo with a mix of confusion and surprise. His brows knit together in his sudden bewilderment.
A sudden nervous energy seems to take over Mumbo, something Grian has never seen before. He watches as Mumbo begins to fiddle with his hands, looking anywhere but Grian. “Yeah, I definitely owe you an apology. I… misjudged you. Severely. Goodness, I was so rude to you! I honestly have no idea how you’re still here, Grian. Most humans would have either tried attacking me by now, or running for the hills,” he chuckles weakly.
Grian continues to stare at Mumbo, finding himself suddenly very, very confused. He gets this feeling of whiplash, seeing the way Mumbo has shrunken in on himself, fiddling away with his fingers. His posture screams nervousness.
It’s such a change from the act that Mumbo puts on that Grian laughs. He has to. He bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves you breathless and grasping at your stomach. His arms circle himself as he laughs, body shaking from it all.
“W-What’s so funny?!” Mumbo exclaims, sounding a bit miffed. “I’m trying to be serious here!”
“I know, I know!” Grian attempts to control himself, reigning his laughter back in. He takes a big gulp of air before looking at Mumbo. The vampire is frowning at him, brows low and furrowed.
Ah, he thinks, so this is Mumbo.
Grian smiles at him, “Can you really blame me for laughing? I mean — the first time we met you threatened to kill me! And now you’re sitting here like Miss Nervous Nellie! It’s such a sudden change!”
Mumbo winces at that, discreetly looking away, “It’s just as you said. I make myself out to be scary and threatening, I believe it was?” He moves to tap his fingers against his leg. “I don’t… have a very good past with humans or vampires. It’s er, partly why I keep to myself,” he explains.
Grian frowns softly in return. “That’s why you only ever threatened me, never actually attacked,” he says, making Mumbo nod.
“I don’t like hurting others if I can help it. Of course I won’t lie and call myself a saint. My hand has been forced plenty of times,” Mumbo sighs softly. “I meant it when I said I don’t like your kind.” He looks at Grian with a serious expression, eyes darkening.
Ever the cheeky one, Grian has to smile teasingly at him, “But I’m the exception?”
That makes Mumbo crack a little smile, “Apparently you are, you pesky little thing,” he laughs. Grian beams at him, causing Mumbo’s smile to soften up. “All of that being said, I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you up until now. With your permission, I’d be quite happy if we could start over? As… friends, maybe?”
His smile is shy, hesitant, but it is oh so painfully soft. It makes Grian’s heart skip a beat. A sense of excitement washes over him at the thought of finally achieving some kind of friendship with the vampire. He knew it. He knew there was more to Mumbo than what meets the eye, and he knew all it’d take was an olive branch.
And now it’s time to set their roots in the ground.
With a smile, Grian holds his hand out to Mumbo. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Grian McCraft, and I’m a human. Wanna be friends?”
Mumbo looks a bit startled by his sudden action, which causes Grian to laugh softly. However, he slowly accepts Grian’s hand, warm fingers tangling with his own. Mumbo returns Grian’s smile, “Mumbo Jumbo, I’m a vampire. I’d be very happy to be your friend,” he hums.
When their hands pull apart, Mumbo’s warmth lingers against his palm.
When Grian comes home later it’s to Pearl sitting on the couch, pulling her shoes on. He stops right in the doorway, blinking at her.
She looks up at him, offering a small smile, “Heya Griba! Welcome back.” The smile falls when she notices his ripped bag and torn jumper, “What’s all this then? Last time I checked your bag didn’t have a big hole on the front.”
Grian winces, “Oh uh, just had a small accident at work. Everything’s fine though.” It’s a quick lie, and he curses his lack of forethought. He hadn’t even considered coming up with an excuse as to why his bag and jumper are ripped.
Swiftly changing the topic before Pearl can ask any more, he glances at the clock for the time. “You going out before work?”
“Gonna say hi to Taurtis before heading to Impulse’s,” she answers, tying off the laces of her boot. Pearl then pauses, glancing up at him, “You could tag along if you want.”
Her offer makes Grian pause. His first instinct is to say no. To deny himself the privilege of seeing Taurtis because he is not deserving of it.
Yet Mumbo’s voice rings in his head.
“I bet you if you went to visit him, he’d be more than happy to see you, mate. And if you really want his forgiveness, then just apologize.”
He hesitates on his answer, unsure.
Mumbo has a point, doesn’t he? Grian couldn’t have known. There was no way for him to know. But does that absolve him of responsibility? He reminds himself that only Taurtis can do that for him. And that requires him to actually see him.
His hesitation must be answer enough for Pearl, as she sighs in what sounds like defeat. She stands from the couch, “Right then, I’ll catch you later, G.”
“W-Wait!” Grian exclaims, looking at her. Pearl pauses, raising a curious brow. He bites his lip, considering his question. “Do… do you think Taurtis blames me? For what happened?” he asks.
Pearl walks over to him, setting her hands on his shoulders. She offers him a comforting smile, “If Taurtis doesn’t blame me, then I don’t see any reason why he’d blame you either, Gri.”
A weight lifts, and it feels easier to breathe. Grian returns her smile, slowly nodding. “Okay. Alright. Just uh… let me change my shirt?”
Pearl grins at him.