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"This is a really pretty sunset." "It is, isn't it?" Mumbo was watching the skyline. Grian was… trying to watch the skyline. More like, trying not to watch Mumbo. It wasn't going well.
He was just… why was he so pretty? It wasn't fair that he looked like that and Grian looked like this. It was just not fair. What made it worse was that Mumbo loved to tease him about it. It wouldn't be bad, actually, because Mumbo wasn't mean or anything, except Mumbo was also doing what… Grian could consider flirting. Or a desire to mate. At least by avian standards. Preening his wings, knocking their foreheads, sharing food. And Grian would gladly accept the offer…. if Mumbo wasn't completely oblivious to avian dating customs. Grian couldn't very well ask him about it, that would be ridiculous.
But tonight… tonight Grian was going to do it. He was going to confess. Maybe ask Mumbo out, if he didn't have a panic attack and vomit off the side of the roof. Rustling his winds nervously, he turned and found himself face to chest with Mumbo. They both laughed nervously. Their difference in size always made Grian turn red.
"Can I preen your wings?" Mumbo asked, pointing. Grian was grateful for the dark as he turned, blushing. "Sure. Haven't cleaned 'em in a while. And you always do it better anyways." He heard Mumbo chuckle.
And then there were long, careful fingers combing through his feathers, massaging the muscles right above his shoulder blades, cleaning the dirt and small leaves from between the joints. Grian's whole body dropped into relaxation, his mind hazing.
"How the hell are you so good at this?" Grian slurred, sinking into Mumbo's lap. He didn't care that this was intimate. It should be. He could feel Mumbo's shrug. "I dunno. You like it. So I got better. Want to make it good for you."
The moment felt weird. Good weird, but still strange weird. "Why? I'm not that important," Grian felt light. Sleepy, almost.
"You are too important. The most important." Mumbo said the last part softly, like it was just for himself.
"Mmm." Grian didn't even register the words, just the hands hitting the sensitive parts. A hand brushed a spot along his spine and Grian chirped, bolting upright. He was suddenly hyper aware of everything: the heat between his tightly clenched thighs; his proximity to Mumbo; how hard he was breathing.
"Grian?" Mumbo said carefully. "Are you alright?" His heart was beating too fast. He knew that. "I…" For a second, there was an opening. He could say it. He should say it. But he didn't. He clicked his jaw shut and settled back between Mumbo's legs. The hands resumed their careful trail across the avian's back. Two hearts kept beating. Slightly harder than they should.