Work Text:
The hotel they found wasn’t the kind that asked questions.
It squatted between two taller buildings like it had been shoved there and forgotten—narrow windows, a crooked sign that buzzed faintly, curtains drawn as if the place itself preferred not to see the city. Inside, the air smelled like stale cologne and old heat, but it was warm, and it had doors that locked.
That was enough.
Cuphead handled the clerk with a grin that didn’t touch his eyes, coins sliding across the counter with the ease of someone buying silence. Boris hovered close, still watching Bendy like he might blink and find him gone. Mugman stood slightly apart, arms folded, posture stiff—his gaze fixed on the entrance and the street beyond it, as if the bounty hunters might be waiting in the reflection of the glass.
Bendy kept his head down, coat collar up, shadowed. The Blot had retreated hours ago, but it left him wrung out, skin still too sensitive, body feeling hollowed. Every so often he caught himself touching the place on his arm where ink had welled up worst, like checking that he was still solid.
Still his.
Still… here.
The room keys came with little brass tags and a warning about the water pressure. Cuphead took one, Boris took the other, and nobody argued when Cuphead tossed the second key toward Mugman with an easy flick.
“You’re with Bendy,” Cuphead said. Not a question. Just a decision, like he was assigning guard duty.
Bendy’s head snapped up. Mugman’s jaw tightened.
Boris looked like he wanted to protest on instinct, like a brother refusing to hand over his injured kin, but he hesitated. He was tired. They all were.
“No,” Mugman said quickly. “I—”
Cuphead lifted a brow, the faintest edge of warning in his eyes. “You want to share with me instead?”
Mugman’s face twitched. “That’s not—”
“Then you’re with Bendy.” Cuphead’s grin sharpened, more defensive than playful. “You two already got real cozy earlier. Might as well keep the trend going.”
Bendy’s stomach flipped, equal parts heat and irritation.
Mugman looked like he wanted to vanish through the floor.
Boris’s ears flattened. He exhaled, long and controlled, forcing himself to step back. “If anything happens,” he murmured to Mugman, voice low, “I’ll—”
“Nothing’s going to happen,” Mugman cut in, too fast, too sharp. Then, as if realizing how it sounded, he added stiffly, “He’s fine.”
Bendy’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet.
They climbed the stairs in tense silence. The hallway carpet was worn thin, patterned in a way that made Mugman’s head ache if he looked too long. Their room was near the end, away from the stairwell. Mugman unlocked it quickly and slipped inside first, sweeping the space with his gaze like a soldier checking corners.
Two beds. A rattling heater. A bathroom door that didn’t quite shut. A single lamp that painted everything in tired yellow.
Bendy stood in the doorway a moment too long, staring at the beds like they were a question he wasn’t ready to answer.
Mugman cleared his throat. “We’re safe,” he said, voice flat. “Lock the door.”
Bendy stepped in. Mugman locked it, then added the chain, then checked it again. Only after that did he finally turn, shoulders still rigid, as if he couldn’t afford to loosen up even in here.
Bendy watched him.
Watched the way his hands trembled just slightly when he thought nobody was paying attention.
The alley had been hours ago, but it felt like it was still clinging to them—ink under nails, fear under skin.
Bendy’s throat tightened.
He took a careful step forward. “Mugs.”
Mugman flinched like the name was a touch.
Bendy stopped, tried again. “Hey. Blue.”
Mugman’s eyes flicked to him, then away. “What.”
There it was. That wall. That clipped little tone that made everything feel like a mistake.
Bendy swallowed and forced himself to keep going anyway.
“I… wanted to say something,” he began, voice quieter than usual. He didn’t trust it to be louder. “About earlier. In the alley.”
Mugman’s shoulders rose, tense as drawn wire. “Don’t.”
Bendy blinked. “Don’t… what?”
“Don’t start.” Mugman moved toward the window, as if putting distance between them could keep the memory from biting. He peeled back the curtain just enough to check the street below, then let it fall again. “We’re fine. We made it. End of story.”
Bendy’s fingers curled around the edge of his borrowed coat—Mugman’s coat—still draped over his shoulders. Ink stains darkened the cuffs. Proof. Physical proof of softness Mugman insisted didn’t exist.
“It’s not the end of the story for me,” Bendy said, trying to keep his tone light, trying—failing. “I was— I was bad. You stayed. You—”
“I did what anyone would do.” Mugman cut him off, too quick. “It wasn’t—” He swallowed. “It wasn’t special.”
Bendy stared.
For a second, he thought he’d misheard.
Then the words landed properly, cold and blunt.
“It didn’t mean anything,” Mugman added, voice strained, like he was forcing the sentence through teeth.
Bendy felt something in his chest go tight and sharp, ink-black and bitter.
“…Didn’t mean anything,” he echoed softly.
Mugman didn’t turn around. “It was situational.”
Bendy laughed once—short, humorless. “Situational. Right.”
Mugman finally faced him, expression controlled too carefully. “What do you want from me, Bendy?”
Bendy’s smile flickered, thin as paper. “I’m trying to thank you.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I do.” Bendy’s voice rose despite himself. He clenched his jaw, forced it back down. “You didn’t have DIP. You didn’t have anything. You still—”
“I didn’t have a choice!” Mugman snapped.
The sound filled the room like a slap.
Bendy went still.
Mugman’s breathing was shallow. His eyes were bright, angry at something that didn’t have a clear target. “There were hunters. The alley was the only place to hide. You were—” His throat bobbed. “You were having an episode. What was I supposed to do, leave you there?”
Bendy’s hands dropped from the coat. His voice came out quieter now. “So… that’s what it was.”
Mugman hesitated.
Bendy took one step closer. “You’re saying you stayed because you had to.”
Mugman’s jaw flexed. “I’m saying it doesn’t matter why.”
“It matters to me,” Bendy said, and there was something ugly in the honesty of it—raw and humiliating. “Because I’m the one who begged you.”
Mugman’s eyes flickered.
Bendy forced himself not to look away. “I didn’t beg often, you know. I’d rather die before I—”
“Don’t say that.” Mugman’s voice went soft, involuntary, and it betrayed him.
Bendy caught it like a hook.
He let the silence stretch. Let Mugman hear his own fear in the words.
Then, carefully: “You kissed me.”
Mugman’s face tightened. “That was—”
“Situational?” Bendy offered, bitter.
Mugman’s gaze snapped up, sharp. “You’re the one who leaned in.”
Bendy’s mouth parted. He stared, stunned by the deflection—by how easy it was for Mugman to shove it back on him.
“Oh,” Bendy breathed, and his laugh this time was quieter but more cutting. “Okay. So that was my mistake too.”
Mugman flinched again.
Bendy’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “I’m not trying to trap you, Mugs. I’m not asking for a ring and a damn parade. I’m trying to say—thank you—for not letting me go through that alone.”
Mugman’s throat worked. His voice came out rough. “You shouldn’t have had to go through it at all.”
Bendy’s eyes burned. “Yeah. No kidding.”
Mugman paced once, like the room was too small for what he was holding in. “You don’t get it.”
Bendy’s brows knit. “Then explain it.”
Mugman stopped, hands splayed against the dresser as if he needed something solid. He stared at the wood grain, jaw clenched so tight the muscles jumped.
“I couldn’t… do anything,” he said, voice low. “I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t—” He swallowed hard. “I just held you and hoped it would be enough.”
Bendy’s anger faltered, confused by the sudden vulnerability.
Mugman’s shoulders shook once, subtle. “And the whole time I was thinking—if it gets worse, if it doesn’t stop, if you—” His voice cracked and he cut it off sharply, as if the words were dangerous.
Bendy’s expression softened without his permission.
Mugman turned, eyes blazing now—not with anger at Bendy, but at himself. “So don’t stand there and act like I did something noble. I did the bare minimum. I panicked. I got lucky. That’s it.”
Bendy stared at him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Bendy said quietly, “You’re lying.”
Mugman’s eyes widened a fraction. “What.”
Bendy stepped forward again. “You’re lying. About it not meaning anything.”
Mugman’s face hardened. “Don’t.”
Bendy didn’t stop. “You’re terrified, Mugman.”
Mugman’s hands curled. “Stop analyzing me.”
“I’m not analyzing you. I’m seeing you.” Bendy’s voice shook, and he hated that it did. “I felt you shaking. I heard your voice. You were—”
“I was scared!” Mugman shouted, and the confession burst out like it had been trapped behind his ribs. “Yes. I was scared. Happy?”
Bendy froze.
Mugman’s breath came harsh. He raked a hand through his hair, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe what he’d just admitted. “I was scared because you were in pain and I didn’t have DIP and I didn’t know if you were going to—” He swallowed again, voice turning ragged. “I didn’t know if you were going to make it.”
The room went painfully quiet.
Bendy’s chest tightened, a different kind of ache than the Blot.
Mugman stared at the floor, voice dropping. “And then you looked at me like I was the only thing keeping you alive.”
Bendy didn’t move.
Mugman’s laugh came out broken. “Do you have any idea what that does to someone?”
Bendy’s throat worked. “Mugman…”
Mugman’s eyes snapped up, glassy and furious. “No. Don’t use my name like that.”
Bendy’s hands lifted, helpless. “Like what?”
“Like I’m—” Mugman choked, then forced it out through clenched teeth. “Like I’m something you can lean on.”
Bendy’s brows furrowed. “You are.”
Mugman shook his head hard. “I can’t be.”
Bendy’s anger flared again, but it was different now—less sharp, more desperate. “Why not?”
Because I’m not supposed to care, Mugman didn’t say.
Because caring gets you hurt, he didn’t say.
Because he could still feel the phantom weight of Bendy in his arms, could still smell ink and fear, could still hear that small voice begging him not to leave—like a knife in his ribs.
Instead he said, “Because it makes me stupid.”
Bendy blinked. “What?”
Mugman’s face twisted. “It makes me reckless. It makes me—” He swallowed. “It makes me want to do things that’ll get all of us killed.”
Bendy’s voice was soft. “You mean… staying.”
Mugman looked away, jaw tight.
Bendy took another step, closing the distance until they were only a foot apart. “You think staying was stupid?”
Mugman’s voice was barely audible. “I don’t regret it.”
Bendy’s breath hitched.
Mugman’s hands trembled at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to reach out and refusing himself out of principle. “But I can’t… make it into something it’s not.”
Bendy’s eyes narrowed, hurt flashing. “So you’d rather pretend it was nothing.”
Mugman didn’t answer.
Bendy’s laugh came again, quiet and bitter. “Fine. Okay. If it was nothing…” He reached up, fingers brushing the lapel of Mugman’s coat still on his shoulders. “Then you won’t mind me giving this back.”
He tugged it off with a sharp motion, the fabric slipping down his arms. The air felt colder immediately. Vulnerable.
Mugman’s gaze snapped to the coat, then to Bendy. Something in his expression cracked.
Bendy shoved the coat toward him. “Here. Since it didn’t mean anything.”
Mugman caught it automatically, then stared at it like it weighed a hundred pounds.
Bendy turned away before his face could betray him further. “I’m going to shower,” he muttered, heading for the bathroom.
He got halfway there when Mugman’s voice cut through the room, raw.
“Don’t.”
Bendy stopped, hand on the bathroom doorknob. He didn’t turn around. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t walk away like that,” Mugman said, and there was a tremor in it that made Bendy’s stomach twist.
Bendy’s voice stayed sharp, because softness would break him. “Why? It doesn’t mean anything.”
Mugman’s breath hitched.
Bendy waited. The seconds stretched.
Then Mugman said, quietly, “It meant too much.”
Bendy’s hand tightened on the knob.
He still didn’t turn around. “Then why are you acting like you hate me for it?”
Mugman’s voice cracked. “Because I don’t know what to do with it.”
The honesty hung in the air between them, heavy as a confession.
Bendy swallowed, throat burning. Slowly, he released the doorknob and turned.
Mugman stood near the dresser, coat bunched in his hands, knuckles white. His eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, jaw clenched like he was holding himself together by force.
Bendy’s anger softened into something wounded. “You don’t have to know,” he said quietly. “You just have to stop making me feel stupid for caring.”
Mugman’s eyes flickered. “You care?”
Bendy’s laugh was softer now, almost sad. “God, you’re dense.”
Mugman’s mouth twitched, but it didn’t become a smile. Not fully. “You’re one to talk,” he muttered.
Bendy took a step closer, cautious now, like approaching a skittish animal.
Mugman didn’t back away. That was the first miracle.
Bendy’s voice dropped. “In the alley, I thought I was going to—” He couldn’t finish the sentence; it tasted like ash. “And you were there. You didn’t flinch away from me. You didn’t treat me like a monster.”
Mugman swallowed hard. “You’re not.”
Bendy’s eyes stung. “Sometimes it feels like I am.”
Mugman’s gaze snapped up, fierce. “Then you’re wrong.”
The words hit Bendy in the chest harder than any insult could.
He inhaled shakily. “I tried to thank you because I didn’t know how else to— to hold onto what that felt like.”
Mugman’s hands tightened around the coat. “And I pushed you away because…” He swallowed, voice turning small. “Because if I let it be real, then I have to admit it could be taken from me.”
Bendy went still.
Mugman’s eyes darted away, ashamed of the admission. “That’s pathetic,” he muttered.
“It’s not,” Bendy said quickly, surprising himself with how firm it was. He stepped closer until they were nearly chest to chest now. “It’s human.”
Mugman laughed once, breathy. “I’m not exactly—”
Bendy cut him off. “I don’t care what you are. I care what you did.”
Mugman’s gaze flicked to his lips—just for a second—and Bendy felt the same electric tension as in the alley, that fragile line between fear and choice.
Bendy’s voice softened. “Do you really think that kiss was nothing?”
Mugman hesitated.
Bendy held his gaze, refusing to let him dodge.
Mugman exhaled shakily. “No,” he admitted, barely audible. “I— I think about it and it makes me feel like I’m going to throw up.”
Bendy blinked, then a genuine laugh slipped out of him, startled. “Romantic.”
Mugman’s mouth twitched again, and this time it almost became a smile. “Shut up.”
Bendy lifted a hand slowly, giving Mugman time to pull away. He didn’t. Bendy’s fingers brushed Mugman’s cheek, thumb grazing just beneath his eye where the skin looked a little damp.
Mugman leaned into the touch before he could stop himself.
Bendy’s chest tightened with something warm and terrifying.
“See?” Bendy murmured. “That’s not nothing.”
Mugman swallowed. “I’m trying.”
“I know.” Bendy’s voice cracked. “I’m trying too.”
For a moment, they just stood there, close enough to feel each other’s breathing. Mugman’s coat hung forgotten between them. The city outside felt far away, muted by cheap walls and locked doors.
Bendy’s gaze flicked down to Mugman’s mouth again. He hesitated, uncertainty flickering.
Mugman’s voice was a whisper. “If you’re going to do it… do it.”
Bendy’s brows lifted. “Excuse me?”
Mugman’s cheeks flushed deeper, and he looked furious at himself for saying it. “Just— I can’t— I can’t keep wondering if it was real.”
Bendy’s breath caught.
He leaned in slowly, like he was afraid of startling Mugman into retreat. Mugman didn’t move. He just watched, eyes wide and soft and scared.
Their lips met.
It was gentler than the alley kiss, slower—less survival, more choice. Bendy tasted salt and something sweet on Mugman’s breath, like a vow he hadn’t spoken yet. Mugman’s hands lifted hesitantly, then settled on Bendy’s waist, grip careful like he was afraid to hurt him.
Bendy exhaled shakily into the kiss, a sound that might’ve been relief.
When they finally pulled apart, Mugman kept his forehead pressed to Bendy’s, eyes closed.
“Okay,” Mugman whispered, like he was convincing himself. “Okay.”
Bendy’s voice was barely audible. “Yeah.”
They stood there for another heartbeat, then Mugman’s eyes snapped open, suddenly alert again. He glanced toward the door as if remembering everything else that existed.
“We should—” he began.
A knock interrupted him.
Three sharp raps against the door.
Both of them froze.
Mugman’s hand went immediately to the side of the dresser where he’d set his weapon. Bendy’s posture shifted, defensive, instincts flaring.
Another knock, impatient.
Cuphead’s voice came through the door. “You two alive in there, or am I gonna have to pick the lock?”
Mugman stared at Bendy.
Bendy stared back, eyes wide, face warm, hair a mess, ink stains still visible along his collar.
Mugman cleared his throat, trying for normal and failing. “We’re fine.”
Cuphead snorted on the other side. “Uh-huh. Boris is having a meltdown, by the way. He thinks you both got kidnapped. Hurry up.”
Bendy winced. “Great.”
Mugman exhaled, long and shaky, and it almost sounded like laughter.
Bendy leaned in just enough to murmur, “We should probably fix our faces.”
Mugman shot him a look. “Your face is always like that.”
Bendy’s grin returned, small but real. “And yet you kissed it.”
Mugman’s cheeks went red again. “Shut up.”
Bendy’s smile softened. “Okay.”
He reached for the coat again—Mugman’s coat—then hesitated. Mugman watched him, then, with a resigned little sigh, draped it over Bendy’s shoulders himself. The gesture was quiet, deliberate, unarguable.
Bendy’s throat tightened. He didn’t tease this time. He just whispered, “Thank you.”
Mugman paused, then nodded once. “Yeah.”
Bendy moved toward the door. Mugman followed, hand hovering at the small of Bendy’s back without quite touching, protective on instinct.
As Bendy reached for the lock, he glanced sideways. “So… it didn’t mean anything?”
Mugman’s expression flattened, but his eyes were soft. “If you say that again, I’m going to throw you out the window.”
Bendy’s grin widened. “So it meant something.”
Mugman muttered something under his breath—half curse, half surrender.
Bendy unlocked the door.
Cuphead stood on the other side with arms crossed, eyebrow raised so high it nearly disappeared into his hair. He looked between them slowly, taking in the coat, the ink stains, the faintly dazed expressions.
Then he smirked.
“Oh,” Cuphead said, voice dripping with amusement. “So that’s what you were doing.”
Mugman’s face went nuclear. “No.”
Bendy rolled his eyes, stepping past Cuphead into the hall like he owned it. “Mind your business, Cup.”
Cuphead laughed, delighted. “Boris is gonna love this.”
Bendy’s grin faltered. “If you tell him, I will throw you out the window.”
Cuphead raised both hands. “Sure, sure. Come on. He’s in the other room. Try not to look like you just—”
“Cuphead,” Mugman snapped, “walk.”
Cuphead cackled and led the way down the hall.
Bendy walked beside Mugman, shoulder brushing his. Mugman’s hand finally settled against Bendy’s back—just a brief, steadying touch—before he pulled it away again like it was dangerous.
Bendy didn’t call him out.
He just let it happen, heart beating a little calmer than it had all day.
Because for all Mugman’s stubborn denial, for all the fear wrapped around his feelings like armor—
He was still here.
And this time, he wasn’t letting go.