Chapter Text
“Emghf.” Something cold and hard was poking into his shoulder, speaking nonsense words and trying to steal his blanket.
“Grian, Scar’s going to be coming over to pick up something, alright?”
The warmth of the bed from a night of sleep was a much more comforting sensation than the words of the cold, cruel outside world.
The speaking and jostling continued, and eventually Grian was nudged into sitting up and blinking his eyes open. The light through the window was grey and weak, and of
course
Mumbo would need Grian awake and aware before the sun finished rising. Mumbo smiled apologetically at Grian’s weak glare, patting his thigh in a rhythmic pattern.
The man himself, of course, didn’t apologize for interrupting Grian’s precious beauty sleep. Which was fair. Grian did live here rent free, relying on the goodwill of a childhood friend, but still.
“Listen, there’s breakfast in the kitchen, all I need you to do is let him in when he gets here, alright?” Mumbo said, starting towards the door. “I told him to be quick, since it's so early and a favor for Doc, but-!”
Grian, freshly awoken and still blinking the sleep out of his eyes, quickly lost track of anything Mumbo was saying from the word ‘breakfast’ onward. The slam of the door and muffled sorry! through the wall told Grian that Mumbo was long gone, so he really had no hope of asking what in the world Mumbo was waking him up for now.
Right, morning routine. He’s awake, not going back to sleep, might as well commit.
Trudging to the bathroom, Grian quickly washed up, got dressed, and brushed his teeth. A quick glance to the mirror (dull eyes, slightly foggy glasses, sunken-) confirmed his bed head wasn’t bad enough to necessitate attacking it with a brush, and he quickly moved on.
As promised, breakfast was waiting in the kitchen.
As Grian sunk into his seat at the table, he took a moment to actually process his surroundings.
The kitchen, like most of Mumbo’s apartment, was clean enough . Yes, the countertops were clean of any grime, the floor was swept and the sink nice and shiny. But a bowl and spoon sat next to the sink, washed and dried, but not put away in Mumbo’s rush. A standing mixer took up the entire space to the left of the stove, and Grian couldn’t remember a single time it had ever been used besides for one disastrous attempt at cookies.
Small figures sat on the edges of a cabinet, doors removed (and promptly lost) by the previous owners for reasons neither of them knew. And, of course, Mumbo’s glitter collection sat stacked on the center of the table.
Grian had no idea why Mumbo was obsessed with the sparkly red material, but he did know that the man was very possessive of the stuff. Apparently it was very rare, though how a specific color of glitter could be rare, he didn’t know. Either way, Grian knew that Mumbo was very nervous about anything happening to his collection, and made sure never to touch the collection.
Blinking slowly at a patterned coaster that Mumbo got from winning bar trivia, he mechanically shoveled delicious eggs into his mouth. Distantly, he noted the time- quarter till six, apparently.
Despite waking up so early, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for the quiet. The city was always so busy, full of honking traffic and shouting pedestrians. But it seemed in the grey hours of morning, things were quiet.
He closed his eyes, listening to the quiet sounds of the apartment, taking a deep breath and-
“Grian!”
Hmm. That sounded like a certain someone calling his name, but there was no reason he would be here at this hour. Must’ve been the wind. He sighed, taking another bite of breakfast and hmm -ing contentedly. It really was a beautiful morning. The birds were chirping, singing lilting songs that he could probably identify if he gave it a little-
“I know you’re in there!”
Ahem. The morning air was interrupted only by the quiet sounds of breakfast and birdsong. Mumbo already left for the day, off to work at Large Don’s (or whatever it was). He probably took the subway, despite owning a car. Grian, who had been behind the wheel exactly twice, didn’t really get it, but he knew that driving brought out a kind of rage in Mumbo he had only previously seen at trivia night.
On a completely unrelated note, they were no longer welcome on Thursday nights at the local brewery.
“There you are!” A voice called, clear and bright and right behind Grian . He screeched and flailed his arm backwards, hitting a brick wall of a man who whined but otherwise didn’t move.
“Scar! How in the
world
did you get in here?” The man in question (tall, green eyed, handsome, annoying beyond belief) smirked, leaning on the counter next to him in a way he probably thought made him look cool.
“Ohh, well, our dear Mumbo left the window open!” He explained, waving vaguely towards the hallway behind Grian.
Grian groaned and stood, stepping neatly around Scar to go and close the damn thing. Of course Scar followed close behind, chattering about something he couldn’t follow this early in the day.
“Aren’t we on the second floor..? Weren’t you just at the door-” Grian began, turning to look at Scar.
“Well, funny story, this morning I saw this mouse and-” Scar interrupted, and he quickly stopped paying attention. The man could speak for hours about nothing, and though he could be incredibly entertaining, maybe not before the sun finished rising.
Grian sighed, turning back to his self assigned mission. Mumbo liked to leave the window open for a stray cat who lived around the place. The cat, who Mumbo called Scarf and Grian called Beans, was an incredibly sweet tabby who lived in the area. As far as Grian was aware, the little thing liked to go around and swindle the whole town outta their spare treats and leftovers.
“-and lemme tell you, it was a feisty little thing! Almost bit me when-”
The fella acted like he owned the place, always sitting in Grian’s favorite spot (the well worn chair next to the window, which sagged to the side and hid him from view) and stealing his sausage (made without any seasoning so as not to upset Bean’s stomach).
“-of course, I let him go, but, Grian, are you even listening to me?”
“Scar, it is six in the morning! ” He groaned, shutting Mumbos window shut and blinking blearily at the rising sun. Pushing away from the wall, he trudged out of Mumbo's room and back towards the kitchen, intent on finishing his breakfast. Behind him, he heard a small oh! and a sigh.
“So it is, so it is! My apologies, then, I simply hadn’t noticed, I-”
“Scar, do you want breakfast? We should have breakfast, and sit in silence, and enjoy the
beautiful
morning.” Grian interrupted through gritted teeth, sinking in his chair and hunching over his now cold eggs and sausage. Scar hummed, and Grian sighed as a hand reached over and snatched his last sausage link.
“Why is it you’re over then?” The blond muttered, glancing up and watching as Scar ambled around the kitchen, doing something with the coffee machine.
“Well, Mumbo said I could pick up one of his books for Doc, and I saw you up and walking around and thought, well, I can’t not say hello to my good friend!” He gestured widely as he spoke, and for a moment, framed by the rising sun through the kitchen window, Grian swore his eyes glowed.
“But at six in the morning?” Grian muttered, looking back down at his plate. A trick of the light, he was sure. Never trust what you see before a cup of-
“Coffee?” Scar offered, either not hearing or purposefully ignoring Grian’s comment. In his hand was a mug full of the sweet, life giving liquid that he had once swore he would never drink. But unfortunately, Grian never found a tea that could help him with finals the way coffee could.
He nodded gratefully, taking a sip and sighing at the warmth. At least that explained the half remembered nonsense Mumbo said this morning.
“Sorry for yelling. Thanks.” Grian said, glancing up again at Scar.
He waved it off.
“It’s alright, G.” Scar said, voice softer than his early boisterous tone. Curiously, he didn’t pour any coffee for himself, just settling across the table from Grian, his hands clasped together, propping up his chin with a soft smile. Grian looked away.
Sitting together, it was almost peaceful. The warmth of the coffee- just sweet enough for Grian’s tastes, filled him up from toe to tip, and he swore that with each sip, he woke up a little more.
He hummed contentedly, and set the mug down.
“Is it good?” Scar asked, breaking the silence.
“What?” Grian was thoroughly distracted trying to remember if he had sausage with his breakfast or not. He couldn’t remember eating any so… probably not?
“The coffee, was it-?”
“Oh! Yes, it’s actually
really
good, Scar.” Grian interrupted. “Did you bring your own blend or something? I swear, this is waking me up way faster than what Mumbo usually has.” Which was some kinda low caffeine, high bitterness nonsense. Ever since that time he tried to work on a secret project a week straight without food or sleep, Mumbo had been… forcefully suggested into limiting his caffeine intake. Which, unfortunately for Grian, meant that while he stayed with the man he was stuck with the cheap stuff.
“Ohhh, it’s just my secret ingredient!” Scar replied cheerfully, and made a smug little face that Grian
knew
meant he wanted him to ask about the secret ingredient.
And maybe any other day he would! But it was, he glanced towards the clock on the wall- just past six fifteen, and Scar had stolen all his sausage.
“Very secret, mm hhmmm .” Scar continued, looking at Grian with shining green eyes.
He remained stubbornly silent, hiding his growing grin behind another sip of coffee.
Scar near pouted.
“What’s the secret ingredient, Scar?” Grian finally asked, rolling his eyes and smiling.
With a dramatic flourish and definitely some glitter that he got from somewhere - (What was with his friends and glitter??) Scar waved a hand and helpfully declared,
“Magic!” And he really did look so excited to share this with Grian, a sparkle in his eye (and really, all around him- seriously, what's with the glitter????)
Grian couldn’t help it. He snorted.
“Alright then, keep your secrets, Scar.” He snarked, pushing away from the table and putting his now empty mug into the sink for washing. “I appreciate the coffee though!”
“What? Nooo, cmon Grian, I’m serious!” Scar pouted, waving away some of the sparkles that lingered in the air. Jeez, he hoped that was all of it. It was already a nightmare trying to clean up
Mumbos
glitter, however careful the spoon was with the stuff.
“Sure, sure.” He chuckled. “Well, while it is always an interesting time seeing you, didn’t you have something to pick up…?” Something for… Cub? Beef..?
“Ah! Yes! Doc! The book for one mister Doc M 77 , that’s what I’m here for, yep!” Scar stammered, turning around and marching out of the kitchen.
Grian only waited for a moment before Scar shuffled back in.
“Uh, where’s the book?” Scar murmured, eyes averted. Grian snirked and pointed to the bookshelf opposite himself. Clearly pulled out and separated from the rest was a book with a note on top, though Grian couldn’t read it from where he sat.
Quickly as he arrived that morning, Scar rushed out with the book like a whirlwind.
Blinking a bit at the rush, but a little relieved at the quiet, Grian shrugged and decided to move on.
“Pfft, magic coffee.” He murmured to himself, shaking his head with a giggle.
The morning was otherwise very peaceful. Quiet. Maybe a little too quiet, given the sudden excitement that Scar brings. Never a dull moment around that man.
After washing the dishes, starting laundry, and staring blankly out the window for however long, Grian was willing to admit he was bored. And that wasn’t so bad, really. He was free to go out and do anything. Like see a movie, or go to a cafe, or… something. But Grian just didn’t want to do any of that without a friend. And yes, he knew he was free to go and text the group chat, or pop into Mumbo’s work, but he really didn’t want to do that.
It was a vicious cycle of wanting to do something, not wanting to organize it, but still wanting to go and do something. Which mostly just led to the aforementioned ‘staring blankly out the window’.
And it was still, and despite the mounting noise of a city waking up outside the apartment, Grian still felt stuck in that quiet.
He hummed. Glanced at the clock- Eleven thirty four in the morning.
Not giving himself time to think about it, Grian stood, grabbed his coat, wallet, and shoes, and left the apartment. Mumbo would be on break soon.
—