Work Text:
“Yes.” Mumbo replied, head tilting a little bit. Like some kind of strange animal, uncomprehending. This is the behavior you’d expect more from a single celled organism. His eyes were big and had huge black irises, and they made him look a bit uncanny. Especially with that big mustache he had. Weird face.
“Glorious.” Spoke Cub, both thumbs rising up in front of him, arms outstretched. It was nearly an awkward hug, with his hands hovering over Mumbo’s shoulders. Kinda stupid.
Cub’s grin was wide and all-encompassing, something that seemed… oddly multi-use. He used the same expression whenever he wanted to display this emotion. Or something close, anyway. Not like he was unable to experience emotion, that’d be crazy. Really, it was just very straightforward. You’d use as much energy as you did here, and spend the rest on all the little tinkeringses. Mumbo totally understood. Wouldn’t do it himself (more like couldn’t), but everybody’s got their thing. Really, if it worked for him, that’d be easier.
“Your business is none of my business, if that’s what you’d prefer.” Mumbo added, fiddling with his fingers in his lap, glance really struggling to keep itself on Cub’s face.
Behind his eyes, there was a quiet ticking, like an internal clock, almost literally. It kept things moving. Admittedly, Cub’s presence always seemed to mess with it, and whether that was biological or… emotional? Or if Mumbo was just not so used to abrupt visits by the local fireworks man, he wasn’t going to deal with that anytime soon.
For Cub, this too was like fireworks, or ores, or big booms. Like a machine. Something easy and automated. Every word shared was like a new burst of color, and it wasn’t hard to get through. It was just like… something he could catalogue. It brought him great joy, really, to add something new to the files. And Mumbo was something he could examine without mention from the other. Those little flicks that he did with his hands, or the twitches with his feet. Those fancy little shoes, he was all dressed up to go and do nothing. He had a sharp mind, though, and Cub liked that they could show up in their best attire or their most powder-stained aprons and still keep up with each other.
Cub shrugged. “Is that how you’d want it to be, Mumbo?” Very straightforward, as always.
Mumbo gestured wildly. “I? Don’t know?” Obviously, he was not very confident with his answer. Not really accusatorially, he just shrugged back. It seemed neither of them was fit to literally ever make a decision. Who put these guys in charge of their own free will?
“It’s dye you need, yeah?” Mumbo inquired, sitting up. Oops, he’d forgotten he was much taller than Cub. Cub blinked up at him like he was some kind of ancient structure he had to decode all the traps for. He was confident, it seemed. It was a little bit nice.
“Indeed, sir.” Cub nodded, shifting his attention a little. He pulled some dye from his pocket. It was bright red, and the wind nearly swept all of it away almost immediately. “Running a bit low, as you can see.”
Mumbo nearly chuckled outright at the expression. “I see. Well, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to have some. Just don’t tear anything down. I’ll need the land eventually.”
“Ooookay.” Cub said, raising his foot to leave and then supposedly realizing something. He paused, and then tensed, and apparently tried again, once again failing.
“My wings snagged on something and I think they’re pretty broken now.” He admitted, after a second of pause.
“What?” Mumbo gaped. “Lead with that!” He added, incredulous.
“I forgot.” Cub said, face entirely blank, much to Mumbo’s rather soft disdain.
“Still!” Mumbo sighed, now realizing that the internal clock in his head was probably just as shocked at their interactions as he was. There was the explanation.
“They’ll fix themselves.” Cub said, and Mumbo came to the conclusion he’d never seen such a smart person be so simultaneously stupid before.
“Yes, but they’re gonna be all crooked. You’ll fly sideways forever if you don’t set them.” Mumbo informed him, subtly examining Cub with his eyes. He seemed fine otherwise. He must’ve gotten… stuck in a tree? He’s not a pigeon, Mumbo thought to himself. Despite that, the image of Cub getting all caught up in branches made him giggle a bit. He stifled it rather quickly, though, attempting not to be rude.
“I guess I never really think about it.” Cub replied, peeking back at his wings. He thought they were a little roughed up, sure, but it hadn’t yet been a major problem.
Mumbo peeked at Cub’s back too— oh, yikes, those things were BENT! What kind of pain tolerance must you have?! And how do you even get wings like these to twist and tangle this hard?! Mumbo was actually rather intimidated now, seeing that if those wings were Cub’s arms, they’d probably be broken in multiple places. Are wing bones like normal bones? They looked pretty… ghosty. Oh no, Mumbo was not a doctor, and uh oh, Cub’s looking at you again. Say something! Don’t just sit there with your face flushed! Wait, what? Quit that now! Just stop all of it!
“Huh. Uh, I can fix that.” Mumbo said, autopilot and stuck in his brain for the time being. It was only a split second later he realized what he just said. He automatically agreed to fix it, because that’s usually what he did for his pals, he fixed things, but oh no, this was different.
Cub nodded. “Kay. Fix me up, Mumbo.”
Cub did not, of course, notice anything off. Mumbo was good at fixing stuff. He was a friend. This was a friendly pal activity. Mumbo could probably get this problem out of the way. Ignoring the fact he might owe Mumbo after this, Cub simply sat down with his back facing the other person and slipped his shirt and his big long white coat off. It was like going to the doctor for joint pain.
Mumbo was 4 seconds away from literally spontaneously combusting, but luckily he did not. Damn, this guy didn’t waste a single second, did he?
Whilst also panicking internally, Mumbo sank down to where Cub was sitting (the floor, unsurprisingly) and examined the situation. He didn’t just want to… snap everything in place. Because, you know. Ow. But… it would be uncomfortable for both of them if he lingered back here for too long.
Considering the fact he was on a pretty irregular time crunch here, Mumbo carefully grabbed one of Cub’s wings.
“Oh,” He said, without thinking. “It’s… cold.” It was.
“Yeah.” Cub said, though he only just now realized how that was going to be irregular to other people. Sometimes he had a hard time keeping up. “They’re always like that.” Truthfully, he barely even knew himself anymore. It wasn’t in any mysterious or angsty way, he just genuinely didn’t know and didn’t care to investigate that.
“Ah. Okay.” Mumbo said, blinking. He cupped Cub’s wing in his hand. It felt like… the texture was odd. It was a little bit like a cross between a jelly and a solid. Mumbo gave it a little squeeze, and he felt Cub physically tense. Oops. Better to not acknowledge that. But, he did discover it got more liquidy when you squished it. Noted. Red in the face, Mumbo carefully picked up the other wing and exhaled all his stress. This was going to be… a job.
Cub was kind of wondering what Mumbo was doing back there until he got a sharp twinge up his back. Shivering, he straightened his posture and tried to remain still. It was hard, though, and eventually he slumped back down again. He was a scientist. His back was made to be hunched over a desk, okay?
Fiddling a bit, Mumbo tried to… massage? One of the broken joints on Cub’s wilted wings, but he was thoroughly embarrassed.
Cub once again shivered, this time making a little shuddering noise. Now he understood where all that cold came from. It was him! His own wings were sucking out all his nice warmth! “Any progress?” He probed, pointy ears perking.
“Er… maybe?” Mumbo said, trying to loosen these broken bits so they’d be easier to pull back into place, now rather hurried. “You could stand to loosen up yourself.” He said, on the verge of being a little agitated. All in good humor.
Cub scoffed, that same grin perked up this time (although stiffer), and remained quiet. Mumbo kept poking his back and sending little twinges through his spine. Tickled a little, he couldn’t lie. Usually he wasn’t ticklish at all. He could not let this weakness be discovered…
Mumbo pressed down on one of the twisted joints. A big crack and a loud hissing noise from Cub, and then a long silence between them.
“That doesn’t have to be a thing.” Cub said, finally.
“It does not.” Mumbo agreed, already wiping that from his brain. He pulled a little bit, gently, on the inside of Cub’s right wing. It expanded a little, now feeling a bit more malleable. Okay, he could work with this. It was giving in, which made his life easier. He twisted the exterior bit back the right way and Cub jerked up again.
“Your posture could be better, I’ve got to admit.” Mumbo said, mostly just filling in empty space because the quiet was bothering him. Right now, he was just glad to have something to do with his hands.
“I can’t disagree with that.” Spoke Cub, who was now messing with something he’d found in his pocket.
“Stay a little more still, would you?” Mumbo asked, straightening another bend much to Cub’s dismay.
“Ow. Fine.” Cub said, dropping his little thingymajig. He went about four seconds before squirming again, this time pulling up his shoes and re-tying them.
Mumbo finally straightened out the one wing. Sheesh. He still had to do the other one.
“No more shuffling.” Mumbo commanded, pushing against the place where Cub’s wing sprouted from his back. There were a few pale lavender and white veins that were visible on Cub’s skin, crawling up towards his head, but honestly, Mumbo found it pretty cool, and also he was going to run away instinctively if he kept reminding himself he was touching Cub’s bare back in the middle of his house.
Cub slouched a bit more. “Is it weird?”
Mumbo paused. “Is what weird?”
Cub shrugged before remembering his wings were still in Mumbo’s hands and halting. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of odd things going on. It’s not gross to you?”
Mumbo shook his head after a moment, despite the fact Cub couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t think like that.”
Hm. Something in Cub’s chest seemed to… bloom. He shook it off. “Resume.”
And Mumbo did, carefully weaving his fingers through Cub’s wings and slowly cracking together every bent and twisted bone, somehow flinching even more than Cub, who still kept up a shocking pain tolerance.
“Done.” Mumbo said, finally, with a bit of a sigh.
Cub turned, twisting around like a dog trying to bite its own tail. He looked a bit like an owl. “Glorious.” He nodded. “You’re basically a chiropractor now.”
Mumbo eventually deciphered that it was a joke and let out a little laugh. “I guess so? Though I’d probably be much worse if it weren’t you.” OH NO! He didn’t mean to say that. “I mean, because, you know, you asked—”
Cub put a finger to Mumbo’s lips. “You’ve gotta talk less. Solves problems.”
“Mm.” Mumbo hummed, swiftly nodding. He handed Cub his shirt and his jacket. Cub slipped them on, wings phasing through like they didn’t even exist. Jeez, this guy was… cool.
“Alrighty. I’ll see you on the other side, I guess.” Cub said. “You know, later.” And he swept off, with a big whoosh. Gone as fast as he’d arrived. Mumbo just stood for a bit before making a decision.
“Well,” He grumbled to himself. “That’s something I’m going to have to ponder about for a while.” But not now. Any reflections for the next two days would send him into cardiac arrest.