Work Text:
Scar was late.
Again.
It was for a really good reason this time , he promised, typing to his manager. She didn’t buy it, of course, and Scar couldn’t blame her. He knew he deserved her doubt, and his actions now only proved that fact! This wouldn’t be the first time Scar was late to a photoshoot for an objectively stupid reason, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Luckily for him, he was hot enough for the industry to adapt! Like, who wouldn’t want a handsome guy with definition on his abs, mobility aids, and the inability to keep a shirt on?
That last part was mostly a joke.
Mostly.
So yeah, anyway–
What was he doing again?
Ah, right! Posing, looking natural, totally not glancing at the jaw-droppingly stunning man drawing him across the street.
Scar hid his giddy grin with the book he was one hundred percent actually reading, truely! In his defense, he’s read it so many times that he could recite the whole thing from memory! It was one of his many, many Star Wars books, contributing to his encyclopedic knowledge of the franchise.
By the way, did you know that, in The Empire Strikes Back, Darth Vader actually says “No, I am your father” and not “Luke, I am your father”? Scar’s main theory as to why that came to be was so the quote would spark recognition as a reference when said to others. Of course, there were also other reasons why that sort of thing could occur, but Scar was fairly confident that he was correct! In fact– ah, right, not the time. As much as he loved Star Wars, that was not the reason he had parked his wheelchair there, ever patiently.
Scar tried to be subtle, he really did, but he kept sneaking glances towards his portrait maker, his butterfly-inducing artist, a man who he’s never had a proper conversation with. Despite that, whenever Scar got to see the artist’s almost freakily pale skin, overly bitten lip, and graphite covered hands, he mentally noted the time as a highlight in Scar’s day.
The two of them did this song and dance whenever Scar could help it, though Scar wasn’t sure if the other had caught on just yet. It moved like clockwork, so precise that Scar knew exactly where he would be sitting starting at exactly 3:17 PM on a weekday.
And no, memorizing part of a pretty stranger’s schedule didn’t make him gay, it made him egotistic, or maybe even possessive, wanting the artist– his artist– to draw him and study him, not anyone else. Not that he seemed to draw anyone else, not when Scar was around, anyway.
Maybe this made them both a little gay, and that was okay. At least, Scar was trying to convince himself that it was okay, as long as he took steps to respect the other man’s boundaries. His issues with his now blatantly obvious queerness wasn’t for any internalized homophobia reasons, but more because his infatuation was such a surprise to him. Honestly, after spending so much time without experiencing romantic attraction, Scar had been starting to think he was fully aromantic! Void, how wrong he was. For as much as Scar was confident and unafraid of a challenge, he was still human. Even supermodel Scar Goodtimes wasn’t immune to nerves!
The butterflies within continued to flutter around as Scar daydreamed about the man with the most pristine and glorious mustache he’s ever seen. He stared off in his direction, the amount of yearning he felt almost unbearable because, no, they’ve barely talked, but Scar felt as if he knew him. Watching his artist interact with the world around him was enough to make his grayromantic heart to beat faster and cause his stomach to do barrel rolls.
Scar had let himself drift too far because he hadn’t realized his artist caught him staring until it was too late. His eyes went wide in panic, hoping he didn’t scare him away. His hopes were squashed as his artist fumbled to shove his sketchbook and fancy pencil case into his artistry bag.
His phone started vibrating, the screen lighting up only to show his manager’s caller ID. Scar flinched, not even needing to hear her voice to know how angry she must be. He really needed to get a move on, but this is not how he could end the impromptu live art modeling sessions.
“Hey, wait!” Scar called out to his artist, hoping to catch his attention. The other man was taller, so his strides would be longer, but Scar was extremely skilled at the act of speed rolling his wheelchair. It took years of practice, but Scar’s arm muscles were well equipped for such a task! “C’mon, I won’t bite! Unless you’re into that. My agent says I have a pretty good set of chompers.”
His artist blinked at him, gobsmacked and sputtering. “That– that would be an absolutely ridiculous thing to say to someone, I reckon.”
“It would be if I wasn’t paid for my looks!” Scar chirped along happily, unashamed. “Based on how often you sketch me, though, it seems you agree. You don’t gotta feel bad about it! I like it.”
His cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink. He cleared his throat, seeming to accept that he was caught red-handed, or, uh, graphite-handed? Scar almost made the joke out loud when Mumbo spoke instead, stealing his attention away from himself. “Well, if I’m gonna be honest, you are incredibly satisfying to draw.”
Pride swelled within Scar as he beamed ear to ear. “Well, I would love to see them sometime!”
“Uh, I don’t normally share my work, but maybe–” he started, but Scar’s phone buzzing put a stop to his words. Scar wanted to curse her for interrupting them, but he did feel bad for ignoring her. He was very grateful to her, and while he wasn’t always the best client, he didn’t want to disregard her completely. “Shouldn’t you get that?”
“She’s reminding me that I have a commitment I can’t weasel out of,” Scar admitted before hastily continuing, “but I would love to talk more! And see your work that you’re willing to share! Would you be interested in going out with me sometime?”
He blinked, and then blinked again, almost as if Scar could see his brain processing his words. “Like, on a date?”
“Yeah,” Scar rolled his wheelchair back and forth excitedly, more fidgeting than actually attempting to get anywhere “why not!”
“Why not?” he repeated with a stutter. “Why– I don’t even know your name!”
“My name’s Scar!” He introduced himself with an over-dramatic yet grand bow. “How about you, fair sir?”
After a moment of brief hesitation, Scar was granted his answer. “Mumbo,”
“Well, ain’t that a super lovely name? Nice to officially meet ya, Mumbo.” Scar offered his hand to shake and Mumbo tentatively took it. “Now, how about that date? I promise I’ll make sure it’s an a-may-zing time!”
Mumbo considered Scar’s offer for what seemed like forever (but what was likely only a few seconds) before returning Scar’s smile. “It would be nice to get to know the person I’ve been sketching all this time.”
“Perfect!” Scar fished out one of his many business cards and handed it to Mumbo. “My contact information is on this, so feel free to text me when you can. The ball is in your court, my friend-maybe-more! I’ll be–”
“Scar!” He knew that shrill voice anywhere. It was his manager, having to hunt him down because of how late he was getting. Scar was surprised how she managed to find him before remembering the tracking software she had downloaded onto his phone. He had consented to it, knowing that her desire to have it installed was warranted. Most agencies nowadays planned for Scar to be tardy, but there was such a thing as being late to being late. At least, there was in Scar’s world.
Scar flinched, a tad embarrassed as he flashed Mumbo a sheepish smile. “I got to go. Talk to you later?”
“Talk to you later,” Mumbo confirmed, his facial expression softening as he clenched the card tight in his hands.
Scar wanted to say more, but his manager cleared her throat. Picking up what she was laying down, Scar waved Mumbo goodbye before wheeling after her. She lectured him about his punctuality as he rolled beside her, but her words fell on deaf ears. All Scar’s brain was capable of doing at that moment was playing Mumbo’s voice and incredibly attractive accent on loop in his head, much like a wonderfully broken record. Though, if Mumbo was involved, was it truly broken, or was it exactly as it was supposed to be?