Chapter Text
There were a lot of things Grian hated about getting spawned into a new game. The biggest ones were of course all the killing and betrayal that comes with it, all the secrets they have to keep, all the allies that turn to enemies. And then there’s the things that aren’t so pressing but still annoying. Like making a deal to expand the stupid square hole every time a dingus dies in it, not expecting anyone to fall in such an obvious trap. Which leads to where he is now, once again expanding the hole because when he made that deal he forgot that he was on the server with exactly that: a group full of dingus’.
“Why did I make this deal?” He pouts, Gem laughing besides him while also helping him dig.
“Have to be a dingus to be in a game with them, Gri-ehm Grian,” Mumbo says at the top of the hole. Wait, Mumbo? No, he’s not here. He’s in Hermitcraft. Safe. Like he should be. He’s not here. He can’t be.
“That’s just the way it is, yeah,” Gem responds, and Grian makes his way to the top again, being met with Tango laughing. Not Mumbo, obviously. Of course it wasn’t. Yet, there is something so unlike Tango about the way he moves and talks that’s so like Mumbo.
Grian chuckles. He really misses him so much that he starts imagining Tango is him? Oh he’s down bad isn’t he?
“Well, the square hole has claimed enough people to make the expansion worth it. Kind of,” Grian sighs, looking proudly at the big hole in front of him. Tango laughs, and the sound is so much like Mumbo.
“Chuffed to bits I’m guessing?” Tango says.
“... uhm yeah,” Grian answers. Tango is really committed to the bit isn’t he? Grian must say he finds it quite annoying how much Tango manages to make himself look like and sound like Mumbo. He even fidgets with his hand like Mumbo and refuses to stand still just like Mumbo. Expect he’s not. He’s not Mumbo.
“You’re not him,” Grian whispers, trying to convince himself more than anything else, and Tango looks hurt, but quickly clears his throat, trying to pretend he didn’t hear him.
“Hi Tango!” Gem smiles, coming up the hole as well. “Not the boogeyman are you?” She asks jokingly.
“Of course not, I’m the boogey-man,” He makes an awkward dance move, and Gem laughs loudly. Tango doesn’t seem to care though, instead looking at Grian, seemingly searching for a response. How does Tango know about that? He wasn’t there.
Gem walks away again, seeing Pearl return to the tower. They both stay silent for a little bit, before Tango speaks up again.
“Wanna go into the mines?” He asks cautiously, refusing to look Grian in the eyes, the same way Mumbo always does when he’s nervous.
Does Grian want to spend much time with Tango white he refuses to drop this ‘Mumbo act’ he’s got going on? Not really. But does this also make an incredible way to make Gem and Pearl finish the mechanism of the Square Hole? Yes it does. It would also be a good opportunity to tell Tango to stop whatever he’s doing before Grian ends his series early. And would Grian ever refuse the chance to annoy his teammates more? No, no he would not. So, he nods yes to Tango’s offer.
“Grian! This hole was your idea, stop making us do it!!” Pearl shouts after him.
“Sorry, Tango needs me!!!” He shouts back following Tango down the stairs to the mines as he hears Gem and Pearl laughing annoyed. Tango keeps silent all the way down the stairs until they reached the end of them, the stairs turning into a long strip mine that Grian started with Pearl earlier on.
Grian sighs, looking at Tango. “Tango, please stop this bit. It’s really not funny,” He says, and Tango seems to freeze up.
“It’s not a bit Grian,” He says silently, the accent still so very Mumbo.
“Tango, stop. Just… stop,” Grian is getting more and more annoyed by the second. Can’t Tango understand this isn’t funny anymore? Grian misses Mumbo so much, but he’s happy he’s not a part of the death games this time, and Tango pretending to be him isn’t helping at all.
“I promise, Gri. I’m not lying.” Tango reaches out for him, but Grian retracts his hand quickly.
“Mumbo—” Grian starts, noticing Tango flinching slightly at the mention of the name, “—is in Hermitcraft. Safe. You’re not him.”
Tango looks defeated for a second, before an idea seems to pop up in his head.
“Ask me something,” He says, and Grian is surprised.
“What?”
“Ask me something. Anything. Something only he would know,” Tango(?) seems desperate, but still refuses to say Mumbo’s name. Grian doesn’t understand why, but the fear in his eyes is something he’s never seen on Tango before, only Mumbo has shown him that vulnerable side during the games. With every second that goes by, Grian is less and less sure this is just a bit Tango is doing. So, he decides to do what he wants. Ask.
“When was the first time you preened my wings?” Grian asks. It’s something they’ve never shared with anyone, something they doesn’t want to share with anyone.
“During Last Life. After you got back from red.” He chuckles slightly at the memory. “You thought I’d be mad after you tried to kill me at the ghast farm, you didn’t think I’d be able to forgive you. But I did, I knew it wasn’t your fault,”
Grian is surprised at the details in which he explains what still seems to be one of the only pure happy memories Grian has of the games.
“You didn’t want to be alone again, so, instead of just asking like a normal person, you asked me to preen your wings so you could stay in my bunker for longer,” He continues, “God, I was so nervous to mess up and hurt you. But you just started talking, as if nothing I could do would be wrong or hurt you, and I just started. And, Grian, I’m not lying when I say I’ve never been as relaxed in these games before or since that night.”
Grian can’t seem to do anything else but stare. He’s completely right, on all fronts. Grian had been terrified Mumbo wouldn’t forgive him, but the second he got confirmation he would and he started preening him, Grian realised Mumbo would always forgive him. There was nothing for him to worry about. They had talked through the evening and into the night for as long as they could until the tiredness finally caught up with him, and Grian had fallen asleep in his lap.
“How did you—” He manages to get out. No one knows that. No one. And certainly not Tango. There’s no other explanation. It has to be him.
“Mumbo?” He asks. A smile, so familiar yet so wrong reaches the eyes of his companion, and he lets out a relieved sigh.
“Yes, it’s me. Mumbo—” He’s cut short by a sound of pain the second the name leaves his mouth. He falls down on his knees in agony, clutching his head in his hands, folding in on himself.
“Mumbo! What’s wrong?” Grian runs forward to try and help with whatever is going on with him. He tries reaching out for him, but Mumbo swats his hand away immediately. His eyes are closed shut, his hands are clutching his ears as if he’s trying to shut out some unknown sound that Grian can’t hear himself.
Then suddenly, his eyes open forcefully, and instead of what they usually are, one of them is lighting a blindingly bright purple.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Mumbo keeps repeating, his head seemingly wanting to fall down but staying up against his will. His arms seem fixed and stuck on his sides, almost as if there’s another being controlling his body, making him unable to move. “Please stop! I’m sorry, I promise!” His eyes tear up, and as fast as it happened, they turn to normal again. His arms turn from the stiff, controlled way it was before to limp as Mumbo falls forward into Grian, who catches quickly. His body is completely limp in his hands, the only indication he’s still okay and awake is the fast and uneven breathing and the feeling of wet tears hitting Grian’s sweater.
“Mumb—” Grian starts, before noticing the way his body freezes up and flinches at the mention of the name again, and he quickly corrects himself. “Tango, what just happened?” He asks.
“I–I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. You weren’t supposed to know. I just, I didn’t know what else to do,” He responds, not lifting his head or moving his body from the current position in Grian’s lap as he speaks, the fabric of his red sweater muffling his voice slightly.
“How did you get here?” Grian asks, feeling Mumbo shift in his lap but still doesn’t make an effort to try and move.
“I don’t know,” He admits quietly, “Last I remember I was working on my base in Hermitcraft and then I woke up in the pyramid. No one even noticed something was wrong. I thought I was going insane.”
Grian feels a pang of guilt. He doesn’t know how to help Mumbo get back, and he can’t even imagine how terrifying that must have been. Waking up in the games without even knowing it would happen, and then find out they already started and you’re not even in your own body. You’re somebody else and no one brings it up.
“It’s gonna be okay. I promise,” Grian whispers, wrapping his wings around his body as he feels silent tears hit his sweater. It feels so wrong yet so familiar. Tango is much shorter than Mumbo, his hands aren’t in a constant state of staining from redstone, there’s no moustache tickling him as they hug, and he’s not in a suit or tie. Yet, he is still undeniably Mumbo. The way he talks, the way his hands doesn’t go a minute without fidgeting with something, the way he can’t stand still for the life of him. Grian would recognise that everywhere, no matter how much They wanted to keep him hidden.
“We’ll find a way to get you home,” Grian whispers in his ear.
“What if I don’t want to?” Mumbo mumbles, barely audible.
“What?”
“I can’t just go back to Hermitcraft and pretend that you and Gem and Pearl and Impulse and so many others aren’t fighting each other in a death game!” He finally sits up again, looking Grian directly in the eye as he speaks. “I don’t want you to get hurt knowing I’m not here to help.”
“And I don’t want you to get hurt either. You weren’t even supposed to be here this time. You were safe,” Grian responds.
“I don’t wanna leave you alone,” That part is barely above a whisper as Mumbo refuses to look him in the eye again.
Grian’s heart drops. He feels selfish, because a small part of him doesn’t want Mumbo to leave either. He wants him safe, of course he does, but he also misses him. A lot. But he knows he can’t stay here. Grian won’t let him. No one is safe in these games, death will come for them eventually. Time after time after time. He can’t let Mumbo go through that if he can change it. If he can, he’ll have to get him away from here.
“But I won’t be alone. I have Gem. And Pearl. I’ll be fine,” He tries to convince him.
“You won’t. No one’s fine in these games,” Mumbo sighs loudly, and before Grian has the chance to argue again, he continues. “Besides, I don’t know how to get back even if I wanted,” Grian realises he’s correct. There’s normally no way out if you get into the games until they end. Or, there is one.
“The only way to get out is normally to…” Grian trails off, unable to finish the sentence. It seems Mumbo understands it anyways.
“I know,” is all Mumbo responds with.
They both stay silent for a little second. Grian runs a hand through his hair, a habit he does quite often when he’s stressed, meaning his hair always looks crazy during the games.
“You look a mess you know?” Mumbo points out, taking a bit of hair in between his fingers and starting to braid it.
“When did you learn to braid?” Grian asks, never having seen him do it before.
“Season eight. Gem taught me how to braid Pearl’s hair.” He smiles, carefully untangling it more and more as he finishes the braid. “There. Beautiful,”
Grian feels his cheek turn red at the compliment, and Mumbo chuckles beside him, starting yet another one. Grian relaxes at the feeling of Mumbo-Tango’s hands in his hair.
“You’re good at this huh,” Grian says, and Mumbo ties off the last braid.
“Told you, Gem’s a good teacher,”
“You’re a good student,” Grian compliments, and takes pride in the small blush appearing in Mumbo-Tango’s cheek. He closes his eyes for a second, imagining falling asleep in his arms, before he realises how long they have been down here.
“Oh,” he says, starting to get up. Mumbo looks at him confused as he stands up, dusting off his hands on his pants.
“What?” He asks.
“We have to go. They’ll start to wonder what I’m doing down here this long. It’s not like I go mining with Tango that often, especially not when we’re on different teams either.” Grian explains, helping Mumbo get to his feet. He seems unsteady when he stands up, reaching for the wall beside him to not fall. It takes a second, but the dizziness seems to fade.
“Well, you coming home empty-handed isn't a un-normal thing at least,” He teases, and Grian acts offended.
“Really? Cause I left mine right—” He picks up his pickaxe, “—here!” He swings it in a random direction, mining a line of blocks, revealing nothing but more stone.
“Really? That’s funny, it seems we stored them—” Mumbo grins, picking up his own pickaxe and swinging as well, “—in a similar direction!”
They both break out laughing, continuing the joke for a little while before admitting they should get going. They spend the time going up again just talking, and before he realises it they’re at the top. Mumbo follows him back to his base.
“Found anything?” Pearl asks when they come to the lighthouse.
“… maybe not,” Grian admits, and Pearl sighs jokingly.
“Did you really expect something else?” Mumbo says, immediately trying to change how he acts to mimic Tango a bit more. “I have to get back, see you around Grian!” He says, giving him a smile and a wave before going off.
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The next morning, Grian is fast to head off to The Pyramid when he wakes up. Instead of the man he was in the mines with yesterday, he is met with the raspy, normal voice of Tango. He studies how he acts from a distance, declaring that it’s not Mumbo anymore. He got back.
“You okay Grian?” Tango asks, catching him staring as he talks to Ren.
“Yeah.” Grian starts, “Yeah, I’m okay,” He smiles slightly, walking off again. He’ll miss him, of course he will, but at least now he’s safe. Which is all that matters.