Work Text:
Mumbo has a problem. Is it really that much of a problem—? He has a crush on his teammate.
This isn't anything new or strange, he's incredibly prone to getting in a tizzy over every hot guy he meets, but those usually go away quickly! Like, in days, quickly!
It's been two weeks since Mumbo met Martyn and he's still flustered every time the man talks to him directly. He's still daydreaming about how strong he looks— could he pick him up, with zero effort? Void, Mumbo hopes so. He's still running every nice thing Martyn says to him over in his head, keeping it in there like something special.
He's so screwed.
It's not Mumbo's fault he's weak for a man with wit, and boy does Martyn have wit. He swears, everything Mumbo says, Martyn can turn it into the funniest thing he's heard in a while. He makes him laugh so much, by the end of this season his stomach muscles are gonna be shredded.
He's mysterious, too. Mumbo doesn't know a thing about him besides his name— and that's probably a good reason for his infatuation to be a bad idea— but Mumbo's always excited to learn new things. He'll find out.
They've been getting closer. He's sure they've been hanging out enough to consider each other friends, so that's something.
It's just— well, Mumbo knows himself. He's never gonna tell Martyn how he feels. It's rare he ever does that, with anyone. His feelings are sensitive and rejection stings like a bitch, so he just doesn't give himself the change to get rejected. Easy.
It hurts to yearn— to spend a large portion of his nights unable to sleep because he's thinking of everything Martyn said to him that day— but it hurts more if Martyn thinks he's weird, hates him, even. If he makes this alliance awkward and Martyn doesn't want to hang out with him anymore.
No, no. He'll take affections he can twist in his head into being something more than just platonic over nothing at all, thanks.
It's unbelievable he's gotten like this, because when he first met Martyn he honestly was struggling to like him at all. He came off as over-the-top and domineering, loudest in every conversation he was apart of. He was ungrateful, stole Mumbo's dog, burnt him— an asshole.
Not attractive things, really, but he just had to be funny, didn't he? Just had to pun it up all over the place and wipe all prior opinion Mumbo had out of his head, because he's funny. Mumbo's a sucker.
And like, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he was just funny— Mumbo could probably shake that— but he's so damn pretty. He's got this rugged sort of way to him, hair always so ruffled, his stubble... Quite the opposite of himself, really.
He can't stop thinking about how strong he looks, either. Mumbo's a simple man, he likes someone who could pick him up, hold him bridal, sling him over their shoulder, and just carry him around. It's not easy to see just how muscled Martyn is— he's not exactly skinny— but he can guess.
In the bastion, Martyn pulled (and pulled isn't the right word, more like picked him up by the shoulders and placed him elsewhere) him away from a piglin and if the ease he carried that out with is anything to go by, then Mumbo's fantasies aren't far-fetched.
Obviously, Mumbo struggled to think straight after that too. He still can't, really. That's probably why he ended up dying— too busy thinking about Martyn to look out for himself properly.
Martyn'd been really worried (well, after he stopped having a chinwag), pulled him into a hug and said he was so sorry (because he was so sure it was his fault, and Mumbo just had to hope his face wasn't red enough to be noticed), helped him get geared up again. So nice to him.
Maybe it was worth it to die, if it meant Martyn would fuss over him. The second time, again, he'd blamed himself, because Mumbo died defending him. When they got home he'd made Mumbo a cup of tea— he's still nursing it— apologized once more, chatted with him for a few minutes then left.
It's been... very nice to have this much attention. He can't die again, though, because then he'll be red, and get no comfort at all because Martyn couldn't be his friend anymore.
Martyn's good at making tea— is there anything he isn't good at?
