Chapter Text
Grian really didn’t expect his face to be plastered all over the news when he got home. Well, as much as could be seen in the blurry photo they had. Sure he had saved a kid from falling off a three-story building, but that had been instinct. He’s no hero; not like the media make him out to be. Grian sighs and slumps against the door. The position is uncomfortable on his wings, but it’s minor compared to the ache he gets after they have been cramped up all day.
Mumbo pokes his head into the room. “You’re all over the news!”
“I know,” Grian grumbles.
“...You don’t seem very happy about it.”
“I’m not!” Grian throws his hands in the air. “I’ve got unwanted attention from reporters trying to flag me down and I got his attention as well.”
Mumbo’s by his side in an instant. “Hotguy? You got Hotguy’s attention?” Grian sighs.
“Yea. Had to do some serious maneuvering to get him off my tail.” Mumbo shakes him.
“Why? Why would you do that!? You could have met Hotguy.”
“Oh yea,” Grian scoffs. “I could have met the egotistical dunce that parades around the city pretending to be a hero.”
Mumbo sighs. “I’m never going to change your opinion on him am I?”
“Nope. Now let’s put on a movie and forget this ever happened.”
The night passed smoothly after that, and Grian almost, almost forgot the events of the previous day when he woke in the morning. It still burned at the back of his brain, but it was more easily ignored in favor of getting ready for work. Mumbo was up and about as well, unusual for him. When asked, he simply replied “I’ve got some things to work on.”
Cryptic, but nothing Grian’s going to concern himself with. He finishes putting on his clothes and grabs the toast as it pops out of the toaster, juggling it between his hands so he doesn’t burn them too bad. Finally, he makes his way out the door, calling out a goodbye to Mumbo before he leaves.
The walk is peaceful (if he ignores all the buzz about the possibility of a new hero in town), and the college campus is in front of him in no time. Entering his office, Grian lets out a sigh. College kids are notorious gossipers about the latest news, which means all day he’s going to hear about himself and what he did. Not that they even know it was him.
A knock breaks him out of his thoughts. Opening the door reveals Scar, happily waving a greeting. Grian returns it with a smile. He opens the door wider and allows Scar to roll in. “Tough day yesterday?” Grian asks, pointing to the wheelchair.
Scar rubs the back of his neck. “Decided to do some exercise after work yesterday. Made me more tired than expected.”
Grian nods to himself. He’ll have to make sure Scar doesn’t keep this line of hard workouts up. It’s the second time this week he’s done this. What he says instead is, “So what brings you to my humble abode?”
“So…” Scar starts. Grian raises a brow at his tone. “I may have forgotten my lecture at home and I know I gave you a copy to look over…”
Grian chuckles. “I’ll grab it and put it on your desk after my class.”
“You’re a lifesaver, G!” Scar exclaims. Grian waves him off.
“Yea, yea. Don’t you have papers to grade?”
Scar pouts. “But I just got here! Are you telling me to leave already?”
“Oh, you’re welcome to stay. But my class is in ten minutes and I still need to set everything up.” Grian boops Scar’s nose. “You might as well make use of this time.”
“Couldn’t you just skip class? For me?” Scar does his best puppy dog face.
Grian snorts. “Last time we did that we had an angry Doc on our case for a month.” He shudders. “Don’t want that again.” Scar shivers as well.
“Maybe I should grade those papers…”
“You do what you want, Scar. I’m going to class.” Grian moves around the other man and out the door, giving him a pat on the back on the way. Today’s class is focused on modern architecture rather than the past, and Grian couldn’t be more excited. There’s multiple buildings he’s visited in the city just to look at how they were built. He gets judgy looks when staring up at the ceilings, but that doesn’t bother him in the slightest. It’s all fascinating in its own right. Now if only his class will pay enough attention to actually learn something…
Making it to the classroom, Grian begins the usual routine of getting everything out and ready. All the notes for the day are first, put into neat little stacks (he likes handwriting things, sue him). Next is his laptop, which he plugs into the projector and powers on for the lecture. It’s peaceful; the calm before the storm.
A few students filter in, Grian seeing them out of the corner of his eye. The early birds, as he likes to call them. First in, first out. They’re the least rowdy of the bunch so he’s usually not too worried about them. Today though, they’re staying in groups and muttering to each other about the news.
Grian sighs. Of course they would become occupied with that as well. He ignores it for now, if it becomes a problem during actual class time, he’ll take care of it. With a sigh he sits heavily in his chair, making sure to lean forward enough not to crush his wings. They might be smaller in this form, but squishing them against something hard is never a good idea.
More students have slinked their way into the room now, and the whispers from before have turned into loud discussion. Grian glances at the time; 9 am. Time to start.
He claps his hands together and the room immediately quiets. “Time for class! If you could please put your phones away then we can begin!” There are some grumbles, but everyone complies. With all the offending devices safely away, Grian continues. “Now, what we’re going to cover today…”
The rest of the class passes by with only a few instances where Grian has to reel their attention back in. Thankfully, he has pretty good students that are willing to listen. Soon enough, class ends and it’s time to leave. Grian dismisses everyone with a wave. “That’s all for now! Go out and enjoy the day!” It doesn’t take long before the classroom is empty.
Packing up his laptop and deciding to leave the rest (who would steal a presentation?), Grian travels back to his office. He has an idea where Scar’s lecture is, but the problem is finding it buried underneath all his other paperwork. After digging through the numerous stacks piled literally everywhere, Grian finds it. Now to get this to Scar within… 5 minutes.
Oh. He lost track of time.
Grian takes off, making sure to close his door before he goes. He rushes past students, only a few turning their heads his way. Most are glued to their phones, not bothering to look up even if a boulder were to crash into them.
He makes it to Scar’s lecture hall right on time, taking the steps in multiples to get down faster. Scar’s face lights up, and his arms are immediately outstretched. “Grian!” The other man booms. “Glad you could make it!”
“Sorry Scar,” Grian pants. He holds the papers out for the other to take. “Turns out it was at the bottom of the pile.” Scar takes the lecture and immediately neatens it up into a decent looking little stack.
“I don’t know how you do it, G. You’re so organized when it comes to your classroom yet so unorganized in your office.”
“Front facing,” Grian points to Scar’s desk. Then points a thumb behind him. “Back facing.”
Scar laughs, bright and bubbly. “Only you, G.” Grian then notices a decent bunch of students starting to file in (there were already some in the room, but he ignored them in favor of getting to Scar faster). “Time to teach,” Scar says. “I’ll see ya later.”
Grian waves him off, trotting up the stairs and slipping past the doors as soon as Scar starts teaching. Right outside is a group loitering, and Grian can see his picture from last night on one of their phones. Brushing past them quickly, he practically sprints back to his office, not stopping until he’s locking the door behind him.
Sighing deeply, he thumps his head softly against the wood. There’s no reason to get this worked up. Nobody saw his face clearly. Nobody knows it was him. He shouldn’t be worrying so much.
A few stray tears slip from his eyes and he slams a fist against the door. They don’t know he’s here. He’s still safe. They haven’t found him. They don’t know.
These thoughts do little to stop the racing of his heart or his shallow breaths, but it does manage to keep more tears from falling. He quickly wipes his face. No more risks. No more saving people. No more playing hero.
~
“What do you mean I should be a hero?!” Grian shrieks.
Mumbo shrinks a little at the volume, but continues on regardless. “ You’ve got a knack for it! Have ever since we were kids!”
“You know why I can’t,” Grian hisses.
“And that’s exactly why you should.” Mumbo puts a hand on his shoulder. “They won’t recognize you with a mask and costume. Plus, your wings are generic enough they won’t be able to tie that to you either. And, besides, I’m pretty sure they already think you’re dead.” Grian puffs up his wings, getting more and more worked up by the second.
Mumbo sighs. “Grian, I know you. You like helping people, despite how much you say you don’t. Your favorite thing to do is pull pranks to cheer people up, and I know you haven’t been able to do that much lately. Give this a chance. Use your abilities to save people.”
“And what if they find out where I’m from?” Grian seethes, though his wings droop. “What then?”
“Grian, these people were willing to call you a hero after saving just one person. I don’t think they’re going to judge you for that.”
Grian sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. Like it or not, Mumbo’s idea is starting to grow on him. “People are already iffy about hybrids as is. Do you really think they’d accept an artificial one?”
“I think they will when they see what a big heart you have,” Mumbo whispers softly.
Grian pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is why you were up during the day, isn’t it.” Mumbo smiles in return, which is all the answer Grian needs. He bites the inside of his lip. “...Fine. I’ll try it out.” Mumbo jumps and cheers. “But!” he interrupts, “I’m doing it my way, and only for tonight. See if this… could be a possibility.”
“Oh you won’t regret it!” Mumbo grabs both his hands then takes off, disappearing into his room. Grian sighs for the umpteenth time that day.
“What have I gotten myself into?” he mutters.
~
Turns out, Mumbo is quite the seamster. He made a whole outfit while Grian was out teaching,
something frilly and way too pink. Though he guesses that’s the point; to make something that alienates Grian from his normal self.
“I also made a mask. It’ll make your eyes appear a different color, and sorta make it seem like you’re not wearing one?...” Mumbo pauses, waving his hands around as if trying to grasp the right words. “Eh, just put it on and you’ll see.”
Grian does as he’s told, turning to the mirror to take a look.
The mask is impressive, alarmingly so. It makes it look like there’s a sort of dark shadow across the top half of his face rather than a traditional mask, and his eyes now shine a deep pink to match his outfit. Still not what he would have chosen… but he’ll be damned if he says he doesn’t look good.
“You really outdid yourself, Mumbo.” Grian says. “I’m always surprised by the things you know.”
Mumbo chuckles. “I am a few hundred years old, mate. If I haven’t picked up anything in that time then something must be seriously wrong.”
Grian twirls in response, admiring the handiwork. “Do I look different enough?” Worry seeps into his tone. Mumbo stops the fidgeting Grian knows he was unconsciously doing.
“Mate, I can’t see your face, you’re wearing pink, and your wings are out. Which, by the way, only I’ve ever seen. You’ll be fine.”
Grian sighs. “I guess I’m just worried. Is it too late to back out?”
Mumbo fixes him with a stern look.
~
Grian really should have backed out. More of his body is exposed than what he is used to, which does not bode well in the chill autumn air. It’s not terribly cold, but there’s nothing else he would rather do than snuggle up under some blankets and read a nice story.
His wings keep shifting in the breeze, trying subconsciously to catch the air in preparation for flight. Grian has to fight the urge to tuck them away. If anything, if somebody saw that it would be ever more suspicious. Not that anyone is out and about so far. The night’s been quiet, for which Grian is thankful.
A heavy thump lands behind him, scaring Grian enough he whirls around and jumps to the edge, ready to take off at a second’s notice. “Woah, hey!” Hotguy stands there in all his glory, with hands up in a placating manner. “Didn’t mean to scare you! You’re that bird from last night, right?”
Grian nods, not able to do much else at the moment. His fight or flight instincts are still in high gear, though there’s no threat to be found. Hotguy wouldn’t just arrest a guy for sitting on a roof, hybrid or not. That’s not his style.
“Shy one, eh?” Hotguy puts his hands behind his head. “Makes sense though the way you were avoiding me yesterday. Those were some crazy moves.”
“I wasn’t in uniform.” Grian blurts out, then quickly covers his mouth with a gloved hand, teeth sinking slightly into the fabric. Why on earth did he just admit that? Why had he said it like he had done this before?
“Oh!” Hotguy perks up. “Sorry, didn’t realize. Though I guess you were wearing darker colors…” he ponders for a moment, before looking Grian up and down. “Come to think of it, I patrol most nights and don’t think I’ve seen you before. How long have you been doing this?”
Grian shifts uncomfortably on the ledge, inching just a bit further back. Hotguy’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to!” He shouts out, then winces at the volume. “Heh, sorry. I really shouldn’t be asking so many questions when they’re obviously making you uncomfortable.”
“Ye-yea,” Grian stutters. He honestly didn’t expect Hotguy to act this way. On TV he’s always larger than life, both in physique and personality. It’s overwhelming and part of the reason why Grian doesn’t like him. Though right now he’s just… a chill guy. Wearing a spandex and leather outfit that should not make him look as good as he does.
“Sorry, I- I have to go.” With that Grian leans back, letting himself fall from the roof. Hotguy shouts something in surprise, but the wind rushing past Grian’s ears drowns it out. His wings open on their own about halfway down, letting him start to glide across the mainly abandoned streets.
How could he be so stupid! This was a terrible idea! Why did he even listen to Mumbo in the first place!? He should have known Hotguy was going to show up. Why wouldn’t he? That man works just about every day! And now he think Grian’s some sort of vigilante working out on the streets! He was just supposed to be dipping his toes in and seeing if he liked it!
In his flurry of thoughts, Grian almost ran smack dab into the window of his and Mumbo’s apartment. He honestly would’ve actually hit it, had Mumbo not left it open for when he returned.
Grian shoots in like a streak of lightning, not able to slow down enough to avoid hitting the couch. The couch that Mumbo, unfortunately, is currently residing on and gets tipped over with the speed and velocity with which Grian hits it.
“Grian!” A now very disgruntled Mumbo shouts from the other side of the overturned furniture. “Do we need to have another lesson on how to properly land in the apartment?” His head pops up and into Grian’s view. And with one look at his face, the anger and annoyance instantly vanished. “Hey, what happened?”
“Hotguy was there. I just- I just panicked because he was asking so many questions!” Grian lunges and grips Mumbo’s shoulders, surprising the older man a bit. “He thinks I’m an actual vigilante.”
“Really?” Mumbo asks, confusion making its way onto his face. “How did that happen?”
“HeaskedhowlongIhadbeendoingthisandIdidn’trespondsonowhemustthinkI’mavigilante.”
Mumbo nods. “Okay, so he doesn’t actually know you’re a vigilante, right? You never said anything, so if he thinks otherwise, that’s on him.”
Grian lets out a frustrated noise from the back of his throat. “But I never really got to give this thing a try! Nothing happened while I was out there except for that meeting! If I try and go out again he’s for sure going to think that!”
“Hmm.” Mumbo twirls his mustache. “We could always try and time it for when he’s not on patrol. It’s not foolproof, but it lessens the chances of you running into him… probably.” Grian’s shoulders slump a bit.
“Okay, that… that sounds reasonable. Do you know what days he typically takes off?” Grian hates to admit it, but Mumbo is… kind of a fanboy for Hotguy. So much so, that it doesn’t surprise him when Mumbo quickly darts into his room and comes back with a notebook filled to the brim with notes about the hero.
Mumbo flips to a specific page bookmarked somewhere near the middle. “Looks like he doesn’t usually work more than four days in a row. Tonight was number three wasn’t it?”
“Yea,” Grian sighs, resting against the still upturned couch. They really ought to put that back. “So he could either not work tomorrow or not work the day after.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Mumbo replies. He turns to look at Grian. “Are you sure you want to give this another shot? I know the main reason is because I pressured you…”
Grian reaches out and pats Mumbo’s knee. “You didn’t pressure me to do anything. You and I both know I’m stubborn enough to get out of almost anything if I really want to.”
Mumbo chuckles. “That I do, mate. Now, uh, can we fix the couch?”