Mugmutt Fanfiction (Cross posted on Ao3)
Title; An Umbrella made for One and Meant for Two (A Home Not for Me.)
IMPORTANT MESSAGE: This fanfiction is in no way canon to MHS and is completely separate from the comic! It is full of personal headcanons lol. Please go check out the comic! Love you Artsy!!!
Hi y’all! Welcome to my very first posted fanfiction! Woohoo! Yeah I’m pretty nervous because this is the first piece I’ve actually felt was finished enough that I could post. I’ve been lurking for YEARS so I think I can tag pretty well. Oh yeah and thanks to MOTM (By Flygutzz and Nortsauce obvi) for giving me this inspiration to come out of my shell! It’s an amazing AU that brought me back to the good old days of playing BATIM and Cuphead over and over again. Plus I was a big fan of Casino Cups and… the other thing that shall not be named. This specific fic was inspired by the Mythical High AU made by @someartsy on tumblr!! We haven’t even actually SEEN Mugman yet in the comic but I couldn’t wait any longer to write Mugmutt lol. I’m not sure how he’s gonna be characterized in the comic so he might seem OOC, idk. I drew inspo from The Cuphead Show and MOTM for his personality. This fic has heavy perspective switches because I'd just go to the other when I felt bored of writing one so be warned~~ Hope you like it!! It’s mainly self-indulgent but oh well.
I’m so glad to be in a fandom with so many great artists and creatives! I even got the inspo for the umbrella section from this one Mugmutt tiktok I recently saw from @ zzzxpixeer !!!
Boris scurries away from Bendy as quickly as possible, worried his brother might change his mind about letting him leave if he drags his feet. Even so, he shifts Baldi’s gauntlet of math homework into one arm and waves goodbye to the imp. His brother just huffs and waves him off not without a great amount of drama. With one last sheepish smile the wolf, for lack of a better word, tucks tail and runs.
The halls of Mythical Highschool during this hour are empty, only a few sad sacks trailing around for afterschool clubs. Boris much prefers this to how crowded they feel during classes, he almost shudders at the thought of bumping shoulders with a hundred other sweaty teens. Sometimes he even ends up late to his next class because he loiters as long as possible in the classrooms until the halls clear up. It’s something Bendy has continually teased him for, much to Boris’ annoyance. It’s not that he doesn’t like people… he just prefers not to be around them if he can help it. Talking to anyone or being around anyone besides his brother feels like he's just waiting for a bomb to go off. He always feels awkward, too quiet, too large, too out of place. So yeah, he likes empty hallways, alright?
When you take the people out of it, Mythical High isn’t so bad, the wolf thinks. The color scheme isn’t gauche and there's no visible mold. They’ve even covered up that awful sweaty kid and bad cafeteria food smell so even he couldn’t smell it too much. Not like their old school, yeesh. It was basically falling apart and if he was complaining these halls were crowded? Imagine stuffing 60 kids into a room with no air conditioning and trying to teach over them. At least the art classes would take them outside during the summer so he could place his easel as far as possible from his classmates. They were nice and all- he just preferred solitude. Well not really, it’s just easier that way. Jeez he guesses this is what happens when he’s left alone to his own thoughts.
Stopping in the middle of the hallway, the English hallway if he’s remembering correctly, he shrugs off his backpack. For his own ease and not wanting to get embarrassed one handedly shuffling through his bag by an unassuming club goer, as stupid as that was, he propped his bag on a nearby windowsill. This particular window was overlooking the football field. It wasn’t the clear view you’d get from the 2nd floor but he could make out the cheerleaders practicing out on the turf. Boris pays them no mind and pulls out his math binder. He originally had all his class work in one big binder but he’d had to get another just for Math. Mr. Baldi had given him so many papers he was sure he’d have to periodically empty the binder so it wouldn’t overflow. He might even have to do it tonight if the trouble he was having getting the new pile of papers into it was telling him anything. In a measure of extreme self control he didn’t sigh very loudly at the thought of having to do this homework for hours tonight. At least he understood it, he can’t imagine the kids in his class who have no idea what’s going to be done by the morning. With much effort he stuffs the math binder back into his threadbare little backpack and zips it shut. A little plush wolf dangles from one of his zippers, a gift from his brother who has a matching cat one (“It kinda looks like a demon, Boris!”) on his own backpack. It makes Boris smile to himself a little.
Just as he reaches up to the straps to leave the windowsill his ear twitches as a familiar sound rolls in. Rain. He smells it right after and not a moment later he sees water start sprinkling the window. It’s a light drizzle for all of a minute and then a true downpour starts. It’s not heavy rain but definitely enough that’d be soaked after stepping into it. Boris winces in sympathy as he sees the cheerleaders run for cover in a nearby ball shed. Poor girls. Eh, it’d let up soon… probably. Boris swivels his ears to hear the rain, basking in the sound before he has to walk through it. The pine trees planted just outside the ground floor window he’s standing at shudder with rain. All the intricate movements of the needles as they shift the water around can be heard behind the plexiglass by his ears. Rain has always been comforting for him ever since was a kid. Even thunder made him calm. While his roommates would hide under their bunks he’d gaze outside the window with his ears pressed to the glass.
Well, he does love the rain when he doesn’t have to be in it. Which is why he’s glad he somehow had the foresight to pack an umbrella in his backpack. It’s plain black and smaller than he’d like but it’ll do the job. He holds it in one hand as he pulls on his bag. He grimaces as he realizes it almost weighs double now, thanks Mr. Baldi. The wolf starts walking again. I guess I should stop stalling and get home to start working. Breathing out through his nose he continues his path out of the school, all the while angling his ears to hear the nice sound of the rain. The nice feeling of calm even gives him enough strength to nod his head at someone passing by!! He’s not sure if they did anything back because he immediately looked away again but, it’s the thought that matters.
When he finally reaches the exit he finds himself idly wondering just how long he can take on his walk home so he can cleverly avoid his homework for a little. Boris reaches into his pant pocket, the well worn dark denim feeling soft under his hands. After a moment of digging through chip and chocolate wrappers (don’t tell bendy) he pulled out his phone and earbuds. He’s tapping through his playlists in preparation to leave but his ears twitch as he hears something odd.
Or rather, someone odd.
Mugman had been having a great day, a peaceful day at that. And he didn’t have very many of those thanks to a nuisance he won’t name right now for fear of souring his mood even more. So, great day, right? Mugs first through fifth period went amazing. He received grades back for history class, the best of course, and was given time to read his new book, yay! In math he finished the test quick enough that he’d managed to get a head start on the mound of homework Mr. Baldi had assigned, grand! In his online college classes he had really simple assignments, wow! His brother even skipped his science period so he could fully pay attention, hallelujah! But oh no, a fully good day was TOO MUCH to ask for of course. Cups came back for economics with a stupid plan. And of course, he expected to drag Mugs into it.
Him and his friend, one of the oslings- god if he knew which one-, decided it would be brilliant to prank Mr. Mario. They had brought balloons they intended to pump full of shaving cream and launch at the unsuspecting teachers back. Morons and assholes the both of them. They spent half the class subtly filling the balloons and somehow being just quiet enough the teacher couldn’t hear them in the back. Mugs, despite himself, couldn’t pay attention to anything else but tweedle dumb and tweedle dee as he sat right in front of them. Constant noise and distraction as he TRIED to write down what was being said. When they finally finished filling up 4 balloons they waited until the “perfect moment” to strike. Which so happened to be right as Mario leaned down to pick up a dropped dry eraser marker.
The shave splattered all over the board behind Mr. Mario but thankfully left him unscathed. The economics teacher was furious of course, already knowing who’s brilliant idea this was. Cuphead tried to cover his ass by sneaking the remaining balloons onto his twins desk. Of course no one bought it, even without Mugman screaming at his brother, which he mostly did for himself anyway. And maybe he thought of throwing a balloon at his brother, for just a second, but no one else had to know. But his brother and the osling were sent to get cleaning supplies and clean up their mess. In front of the rest of the class. Cuphead was embarrassed all of two minutes before he realized he could use this to his benefit.
He started pulling faces behind Mr. Mario, mocking him. Mugman could feel himself steaming as he jotted down notes dutifully. He can’t believe he has to be associated with that stupid, stupid cup. By this point his mood was done for anyway, even his brother being sent to the office with tweedle dumb didn’t make him any happier. Cause no, of course it’s raining. And Cuphead has their umbrella because it’s not like he’s carrying anything else in his bag. So now, Mugman has to wait for his twin to get out of Principal Oswald’s office before he can walk home. He can’t even sit in the library as he knows his brother is liable to just forget him and bolt home.
Oh yeah. He didn’t mention that the osling accidentally popped a shaving cream balloon on him did he? Well he did, all over the Mugs sweater. It hadn’t been a pain to get out of his sweater but he didn’t care. Even now he’s steaming just thinking of what his brother’s gonna say to him. Great! Now the steam is fogging his glasses! And it didn’t even help him warm up.
So, Mugman is having a pretty shit day if you ask him. He curls his arms around himself, wincing as the coolness of the rain sends a chill across his porcelain skin. He hates the rain. Has always hated it, it makes everything muddy and disgusting. It’s dreary and fogs up his glasses especially in early spring. You know what else he hates? He hates his own mood and his brother and even-
Boris raises an eyebrow as he realizes that someone else is standing under the veranda. The weird sound he picked up was a soft whistling sound- like a steaming kettle. He looked over on instinct, curious about the sound and saw the teen he’s now staring at. He looks… pissed.
The cup? Mug? He thinks it’s a mug. The mug is curled into himself, his hands tugging on his own sweater as if he’s imagining he’s squeezing the life out of someone instead. His face is dark and stormy as he grumbles to himself. His nose is big and blue with a slight reddish tint that must mean he’s cold. The mug has a pair of square framed glasses that are currently fogged up despite the dry air around them. Why…? Oh yeah, that’s probably it. The mugs head is bubbling with something, which after a small sniff from Boris is revealed to be some sort of tea, that is spilling down the sides of his head. The other boy hasn’t noticed him staring, thank god.
Boris catches himself tilting his head to the side and quickly shakes himself out of it. He haphazardly stuffs his phone and earbuds away as he thinks. Boris is a good 12 feet away so he doesn’t worry about being noticed. The mug is still muttering to himself, pricking his ears up he hears… more than a few expletives and some griping about a twin brother.
Boris hasn’t seen this guy around before, but then again he hasn’t really been looking at anyone anyway. But the wolf is sure he’d remember this mug if he’d met him before because…. The reasoning alludes him for now. But either way he’s sure he hasn’t seen this guy before he’d remember…uh… nah he still can’t name what he’s feeling.
Both don’t notice the pounding feet of someone behind the school doors before they come crashing out. Boris and Mugs jump a couple feet in the air out of shock as Coach Sonic runs out to his car. He leaps down the stairs with a finger gun from under one of his legs towards the boys and is gone in a flash heading to his bright blue sedan. He drives out of the parking lot blasting some phonk song that Boris doesn’t care to pick the lyrics out of.
To say the least they are both flabbergasted, their eyes still stuck on the middle distance as they process what they saw. Boris is glad he doesn’t have a class with that character. He lets out a huff unconsciously and turns to look at the mug again only to be met with a pair of blue eyes, ah shit.
When the doors banged open Mugman quickly swiped the fog off of his glasses to see what was going on only to see the blue hedgehog. Coach Sonic has always been a little special so this doesn’t really surprise Mugs past the original scare. But it does pull him out of his own hate spiral. Which is a plus. The blue mug is about to move closer to the school to sit down against the wall before he hears something from his left. A huff. Mugman snaps his neck to see who’s standing beside him. And there he is, a respectable distance away but still near him, a wolf boy. Staring right at him.
The guy freezes like he’s been caught and turns his head away quickly. He brings up a furry hand to scratch at the back of his neck nervously. The wolf is at least a foot taller than him but has hunched himself down so he only looks an inch or two above Mugs. He’s wearing a green flannel and black denim that look awfully warm. And atop his head two ears periodically swivel.
Mugman has never met this boy before. He knows everyone, a quirk you get from growing up with everyone in the school, and he hasn’t seen him before. It makes him slightly uneasy. A glance down reveals that he has an umbrella, why isn’t he leaving?
A chill goes up his spine again, damn cold. Mugs looks away, hoping the wolf will leave soon. Taking stock of himself he realizes that his head had boiled over, leaving sugary trails down his head. Damn it now he looks like a slob. He was regretting the green tea he’d poured into his head this morning, he should have done moonshine like his brother. He reached into his khaki pants to get a pack out tissues, noting the wolf STILL hadn’t left a bit bitterly. Whatever, he licked a tissue and started to subtly scrub off the stubborn sugar. He hears an umbrella open and feels relieved that the wolf will leave soon so he can stew in his misery all on his lonesome. He stows the first tissue and his pocket and gets another one, poking out his tongue to get it wet again.
“Uhm. Do you want… ahem.” The wolf starts, holding his umbrella over the mugs head. For his part, Mugman is frozen, stupidly keeping his tongue out and no doubt looking like a fool. He raises an eyebrow in question, so that’s something. The wolf clears his throat, looking anywhere but Mugman. “Do you want to share?? My umbrella??”
Mugman pulls his act together, stuffing the unused tissue into another pocket. He glanced up at the umbrella; black but small, almost too small for the both of them. Mugman tried to catch the others eyes as he spoke, “Thanks but I’m waiting for my brother-“
He feels his own eye twitch. You know what? He’d much rather walk home with a stranger than with his brother right now. He cuts himself off, “Nevermind, I’d be happy to share, if you don’t mind.”
The wolf looks at once relieved and upset, still refusing to look at Mugman. His nose and ears twitch in sync, nerves spilling over. Jesus, Mugman didn’t think he was that intimidating. The wolf stutters into his sentence, “I don’t mind, which way do you walk?”
Mugs points to where his house is, vaguely. “Somewhere over there, Thanks for this.”
The mug steps forward and into the wolf's space to better fit under the umbrella. Despite looking like he wants to sink into the ground the other boy dutifully takes his first step and they walk into the rain. The little umbrella holds up against the onslaught of water. The noise is loud but manageable. Mugman settles in for a long walk, if the wolf’s obvious nerves are indicative of anything.
Stupid stupid stupid.
Why the hell did Boris think this was a good idea again? Was it because he felt bad for him? Was it because the rain lulled him into a false sense of security? Was it because he’s a gentleman despite himself? Was it because he really was looking for a way to stall his math homework? Or was he just an idiot?
He can barely speak to people he’s known for years. How is he gonna make small talk with a stranger he just met?!? And he’s so close! Like really close, like the wolf’s hand was hovering just behind the others back. Boris can feel his hair stand on end, there’s no way he’s getting away without embarrassing himself in some way. The mug is pretty calm at least, he was sort of worried when he approached that the boy might explode on him due to his obvious bad mood. He isn’t even steaming anymore, which is probably a good sign. Boris didn’t know, he’s not a dish expert.
They’re walking in silence as Boris tortures himself over his poor choice. He’s just following the mug on autopilot, in the opposite direction of his house. Yeah. He was too nervous to tell the other that he actually lived in the complete other direction. So now he’ll have to walk all the way back to the school to go home. It’d just serve to make the situation even worse if he ended up backing out of his offer. Oh god it’s been really quiet, does he look annoyed? Boris glances over out of the corner of his eye. And yeah. The blue mug is staring ahead with a moldy miffed expression, maybe that’s just his resting face? And he’s tapping his pointer finger on his elbow, with his arms crossed. Boris should definitely say something.
“Your name?”
Boris keeps himself from squeaking at the sudden sharp words. It seems the mug has taken things into his own hands.
“Uh, I’m Boris.” He says, looking at the mug's rim rather than his eyes. He can see the raised eyebrow of question and adds on, “I’m new.”
“Mmm. I figured. My name is Mugman.” Mugman answers easily. His finger stops tapping his elbow. He’s staring at Boris, the way normal people do in conversations the wolf realizes. So he sucks it up and makes eye contact. The mugs eyes are dark blue and piercing, he seems to be analyzing Boris in real time. He should say something, uhh.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Boris says. He’s happy with that, he guesses, at least he didn’t leave Mugman hanging. He shifts his claws around the umbrellas base, making several clicking sounds that the other heard making him look over his shoulder to see the noise.
The mug turns back forward and adjusts his glasses, “It’s nice to meet you as well. And thanks again for taking me home.” He paused, squinting his eyes before picking back up. “Why did you help me?”
Great question, Mugman!
What should he even say? Any of his answers feels like the wrong thing to say. Boris supposes a mix of his answers might work best, “I’m trying to get out of doing math homework.” That sounded kinda bad outside of his head. He continues quietly, “And you looked kind of upset.”
God, he was one of those people? Mugman couldn’t help but think when Boris mentioned he was trying to get out of doing homework. Mugman could never understand slackers, didn’t they care about their grades? Mugs started to tap his finger again, a constant tap of porcelain that kept him in the moment. As for what Boris had just said, he had figured he looked angry. He supposes this confirms it.
“Oh. Yes I was having a bad day,” Mugman said, feeling as if he was throwing a dog a bone, pun absolutely unintended, thank you. Most of the conversation so far made Mugs feel as if he was forcing the other at gun point to respond. The mutt had a deceptively blank face but his nerves were obvious. His ears flicking and fingers constantly adjusting on the umbrella handle as if they were sweaty. The wolf didn’t even bother to hide it, making awkward eye contact with him.
He was purposefully keeping his answers short, he didn’t really want to talk. Mugs just really wanted to go home. He’d long cooled off so now all he is is dirty and tired. Ah, speaking of. He pulls out the tissue from before and holds it out in the rain until it’s moist and starts scrubbing his head again.
“I’m sorry you had a bad day. Do you… want to talk about it?” Boris says, sounding actually heartfelt. The wolf is still tapping his claws nervously though, which doesn’t escape Mugman's notice. The mug is absently wiping his rim clean as he lets out a sigh.
“Do you actually want to hear?” Mugs asks. A nod from Boris. “Alright then, so it was a great day…”
And on he went with his explanation. He gestured wildly during his story, hitting the umbrella at times. He started at the beginning of his day detailing the perfect-picturesque morning and evening,blissfully unaware of his future issues. Then a detailed recount of the prank which almost made Boris chuckle before he sheepishly petered off at Mugman's furious expression. Throughout the whole story the wolf didn’t cut in, only speaking to ask small questions about Mugs day or humming in agreement. He didn’t seem bored in the least and actually paid attention to Mugman. It was nice. Not many people cared for his long rants, his brother would tell him that he must like the sound of his own voice. But Boris didn’t seem to really care, he even seemed less nervous than before, his ears now fully focused on Mugman's voice. Mugman even started to find a bit of humor in his situation, catching himself smiling in disbelief at his unfortunate set of events as Boris huffed a laugh at the osling dropping the shaving cream on Mugs.
“It seems to have been one thing after another,” Boris comments, a small smirk on his face which is then quickly hidden once again by a neutral frown. He shifts the umbrella so he can rest his arm on his side for a moment. Mugman steps closer to make up the space, nearly right under the wolf’s nose. It’s remarkable how he had managed to stay dry this entire time, sure his feet were a little soaked but that couldn’t be prevented. Boris has gone out of his way to make sure Mugman's body had been shielded, it seems and the close distance allowed the porcelain to seep some warmth off of the wolf. Mugs felt the last of his annoyance melt off of him, maybe this guy wasn’t so bad.
“Yeah, I was actually waiting for Cuphead when you found me,” Mugman started, looking off in the distance and gesturing with his right hand. “Glad you did actually, I think having to share an umbrella with him after that would’ve actually made me blow my top.” More than I already had, he leaves unsaid. He sends the words to the wolf with a grateful look in his eyes, finally making eye contact again. He really was happy he’d gotten to meet Boris, he was a great listener.
Listening to Mugman talk about his day made Boris feel like maybe a pile of homework wasn’t the worst that could happen. It was almost comical the amount of shit that happened for Mugs in just an hour of class. Boris hoped that his interest was being properly conveyed, he really loved to hear people talk, especially about things they’re impassioned about. Really that's what drew him and Bendy together in the first place; Bendy talked and Boris listened. But Mugman had a way with words Bendy didn’t or at least a way with words different than Bendy. His story lacked frills and would have simply been the facts if not for Mugman's facial expressions and voice. He didn’t have a very good poker face and you could almost read his thoughts as he spoke. It was cute.
Boris blinked. Where had that come from? Mugman’s looking at him! He must have said something while you were thinking something stupid! Come on brain what’d he say? Mugman's eyes didn’t help his memory at all, they shimmered like lapis now that the storm had cleared from them. Boris looks away and finally recalls Mugman's last statement, which brings a small smile to his lips. “And I’m glad I got to talk to you, I don’t really talk to lots of people, just my brother.” Crap he didn’t think before he spoke now Mugmans gonna think he’s some social recluse, which he is, and never talk to him again. “So. thanks for talking to me,” Boris just continues to dig his own grave, and he closes his eyes out of embarrassment.
Mugman is silent and Boris almost wishes he kept his eyes open so he wouldn’t be left hanging so long. Now he’s alone with just his stupid thoughts of how Mugs looked cute, of all things. He really needed to let go of that quickly, he already knew it wouldn’t amount to anything because of who he was. He was just too much of a nuisance, never saying anything or when he did he’d say the wrong thing. Boris was shy and would often run away from public spaces like the coward he truly was. He dressed like a slob and was never really great at anything. These thoughts shut his thoughts down perfectly, dampening his mood enough so he’d be able to focus on closing himself off again. Boris opened his eyes again to look down at Mugman who has been quiet these past couple of seconds. The porcelain had that look again, like he was trying to download all Boris-content to his brain and scan through it for inspection.
“Your welcome,” Mugman said eventually, a bit of pride in his words that made Boris inwardly chuckle despite himself. He continued, “And thanks for listening to me, you’re pretty good at using those ears of yours.” Mugman said doing something that could approximate a smile, it looked real just like it didn’t know how to sit on his face right. Boris nodded back easily and swiveled his ears around a little on purpose. Eye contact has gotten easier for him now, and he’s no longer scared to look Mugman right in the eyes. The little world of the umbrella makes him feel like they are all alone and he doesn’t have to worry about people looking in and judging him. Which is entirely too sappy for someone he just met. Mugman moves to speak again, already sensing Boris intending to stay quiet for now in an ease that makes Boris feel warm, before his eyes trail to Boris’ shoulder. His left shoulder. Which now as he turns to look as well is absolutely drenched in rain water.
“Boris! Your shoulder is soaking wet, you should’ve said something!” Mugman shouts, instantly fussing over Boris like a switch had been flipped. He grabs the wolf’s hand from behind him, the one holding the umbrella and tilts it so it covers Boris completely. Honestly Boris hadn’t even realized his shoulder had gotten wet until now, his mind must have been in other places. Immediately he tilts the umbrella back to make sure Mugman was covered, trying to be subtle to no avail. The blue mug was scowling up at him.
“Ah, please don’t worry about me, I have thick fur, I didn’t even feel the rain,” Boris says, trying to reassure Mugman that he really had nothing to worry about. Boris had been colder before and it hadn’t killed him. He was used to making tiny little sacrifices for others' comfort, it just made him feel more likeable. Seeing the others expression still not budging he tries to reason again, “You’re more likely to catch a chill than me, I saw you shivering in front of the school.”
Mugman stares at him for a moment before sliding just a little bit closer, which seemed impossible to Boris. The porcelain grabs the umbrella from Boris and holds it himself, “Now it covers us both, Problem solved.” His voice brokered no argument so Boris just followed along with it. He bent over to accommodate for the shorter height of the umbrella, resting his head in the air beside Mugmans.
Mugman wraps both hands around the handle of the umbrella and focuses on them. He feels so weird. Boris has completely flipped Mugs expectations for him over the course of a short walk. And now Mugman dreaded having to leave and go into his house all by himself. What if he doesn’t see Boris around in school? What if this is his last chance to speak and be listened to? Mugs isn’t very popular due to his need for perfection and tendency to snap at people for small things. Most people were only around him because they knew he was smart and hoped to mooch work off of him. This annoyed him to no end and he’d often glare at them until they left but… Boris hadn’t even asked about his work yet. All he cared about was whatever Mugman was currently saying, which at the moment seems to be a small scolding over not taking care of his health.
“If you get sick from this, It would’ve been for no good reason. Where's your house?” Mugman says, his voice low as he speaks. He feels annoyance but not in the extreme way he normally does, he almost feels like a well adjusted teen for a moment! But Boris doesn’t answer his question and he can almost feel the wolf holding back a nervous whine. Mugman asks again, slightly more worried than before, “Where’s your house, Boris?”
“Eh. Well.” Boris starts and from the corner of mugs eye he can see the wolf has brought up his clawed hand to scratch at he neck. Not a good sign, Mugs turns his head to the side to see the wolf’s expression better, and to scowl at him, but is met by a face so close he nearly bumps his noise on Boris’ muzzle. Boris is too busy fretting over his next words to even notice, even as Mugs lets out a whistle like sound of embarrassment and turns away. “Uh. I was actually lying when I said my house was this way. It’s… on the other side of the school. 10 minutes out from school, heh.”
Mugman didn’t find anything about that funny, actually. “So why’d you tell me you live close?” Mugman asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer. And yes, Boris responded that he’d been too nervous to back out after he’d offered and said as much. Mugman expects to feel angry for being lied to or even anger for Boris having to take a really long way home but he actually felt fond? Stupid mutt. Mugman is looking forward, squeezing the handle of the umbrella tightly. The rain has slightly let up and isn’t as harsh as before, which is a plus. Mugs clears his throat and shoots, “Well, If you want to stay at my house until your shoulder gets dry, I wouldn’t mind.”
This is weird isn’t it? Mugman just met this guy! Now he’s inviting him to his house for an indefinite amount of time? What if he’s actually an asshole and this whole walk was just a ruse to get Mugman vulnerable? It’s happened before. Mugman doesn’t actually know anything about this guy, not really. What if he bent the spines of books or chewed loudly? He mentioned getting out of homework- what if he’s a slacker who doesn’t do any work!?!?! And Mugman just invited him to his house. Even if none of his theories were right it was still weird to ask Boris to come in, the wolf might not even be enjoying their conversation and is excited to get away. Damn it this is what happens when you don’t think before you speak! He should know better.
“Sure.”
Huh.
Boris is giving him a sheepish smile when Mugman peaks out of the corner of his eye at him. It’s the widest smile Mugs has seen on him yet and it shows off his sharp canines. Then the wolf seems to swallow it down into a more neutral expression. Mugman found himself missing the smile, embarrassingly. Boris speaks again, “That’d be nice. If you're sure- I’d understand not actually wanting me over.” It’s self-deprecating in a way that Mugman hadn’t yet seen from the wolf and his eye twitches grouchily. That's enough of that.
“I’m sure,” It’s short and to the point, Mugman didn’t even have to think about his response. His spiral was forgotten now as he gave another janky smile to the wolf. This is fine. Mugman feels something brushing against the back of his leg and jumps out of shock. A cursory glance over shoulder reveals that it’s actually Boris’ tail, which is wagging happily. The wolf’s eyes widen and he grabs his tail with one of his free hands, stuffing it into his clothes awkwardly.
“Sorry, about that- sorry,” Boris says looking upset at himself. How long had it been wagging? Mugman thought. Had it been moving the entire time and Mus just hadn’t noticed until now? It was really sweet. UGH! Shut up, head. Mugman just waves Boris off with a free hand, he didn’t mind it at all.
They walked in silence for a couple more moments before reaching the Kettle residence. It was hidden at the back of a suburban neighbourhood, one of the only houses left that had room to breathe between other homes. It was surrounded by a tiny white picket fence that held a lush garden. Truthfully Elder Kettle and Cuphead just let the yard grow wildflowers and called it a choice. Mugman didn’t have the energy to keep cutting it himself so he just gave up the argument and let it grow. The house itself was a pale brown with two stories, circle windows breaking the brown with the light blue of their panes. The Kettles had lived here for a really long time, and you could see it in the little crafts that could be seen hanging in the windows. A windchime the boys had made out of scrap metal and sticks they found in the forest hung right by the front door and rattled incessantly no matter the weather. There's even a window that’s patched up with Cupheads drawings on the second floor thanks to an accident with a ball. But as they approach the little house all Mugman can think of is the mess inside!
He has no doubt that his twin has NOT cleaned up the dishes from dinner last night and might’ve even left milk splatter on the counter like he normally does this morning. Not that Mugman is innocent either, he hasn’t done laundry in a week (They still have clothes so it’s fine okay!) and probably left the laundry room open with all their dirty clothes piled up. Did he even have any drinks or food to offer Boris?!? Elder Kettle is out so at least he doesn’t have to worry about them walking in on his grandfather watching TV in his undergarments like he normally does (“It’s my own damn house, Mugsy!”) Oh god he definitely didn’t think this through.
Mugman needs to go try and tidy up! He runs ahead of Boris much to the wolf’s alarm who picks up his own pace to match the mugs, oh yeah he still had the umbrella. Just as quickly as he started Mugman skidded to a halt. Boris, also not expecting this, slammed into the porcelain's back. Luckily the blue mug was able to keep his balance or they both would’ve launched head first into a puddle of water, ruining all their hard work staying dry. He would’ve said that if fate favoured him in any way shape or form. So of course Mugman loses his footing on a slick stone in his family's garden and falls right into a puddle. Both him and Boris, he means. The puddle isn’t muddy thank god, and neither is it deep but it still gets water all over Mugman's front. The wolf is down on his ass as well, the water soaking into his dark denim jeans. Just wow. Amazing maneuvering, Mugman. Real genius.
Boris is now sitting on the wet grass in someone's garden, that he met not 30 minutes ago. In the rain. His day has just gotten odder and odder. Why had the mug even started running on so suddenly at that? At least the Mug still had the umbrella above them, somehow. Mugman is a little ahead of him, laying face down in the puddle, no doubt trying to figure out what the hell is even going on anymore as well. Boris is sat with each of his legs propped over the back of Mugman's knees, which isn’t the worst way to fall on someone. Boris scoots off and onto his knees so he can take the umbrella from the desolate mug on the ground. He looks really embarrassed. Or he’s suffocating, Boris should probably help him if that's the case. The wolf grabs the back of Mugman's collar, not even daring to entertain grabbing his handle, and pulls him up a couple inches off the ground.
“You alright there?” Boris says, at a loss. There's a long-suffering sigh from Mugman but the other nods in assent. Boris lets the collar go when the blue mug starts to rise to his feet and stands up himself, holding the umbrella more fully over the other. Mugman is dusting himself off as best as he can while he walks up to the door, allowing both him and Boris to shelter under the small overhang. Boris closes the umbrella after shaking it out and stuffs it back into his backpack. The mug on the other hand is squeezing out his sweater and shirt as best he can, scowling all the while. Jeez what a day for him, eh? On top of everything else now he’s fallen into a puddle. Boris remains silent, looking out into the rain and listening to the droplets as he waits.
There's a sigh from beside him and the other speaks, “Alright, wait out here, I need to go get towels, I’ll be right back.” And before Boris can even bother to say anything or look over at the mug, he’s already gone. There's a slam of the door behind him and shuffling as the other goes deeper into the house. Boris perks his ears and can hear Mugman rushing through the house and… throwing things around? These towels seem to be hard to find, Boris thinks, as he hears his companion dashing through every room in the house. The wolf takes a moment to shake himself, whipping all the water droplets off of his fur, and glad Mugman isn’t here to get caught in the cross fire. His fur fluffs up and he's pretty sure he looks like a pile of lint right about now. Boris looks awkwardly around the little garden with nothing else to do. Looking to his right his nose hits a bundle of sticks and stone before he can stop it. Boris squeaks, worried he’s knocked something down but soon realizing it's a ramshackle windchime. He backs up a step to make sure he wouldn’t be shoving his nose in it anymore but squints his eyes to look at it. He can see a barely there engraving of “Cups and Mugs” on the inner ring, cool, a home made windchime.
Before Boris can go back to admiring the garden (or weed infested grass-he’s starting to realize) the front door opens again. Mugman is standing in the door frame holding a towel out to him. Somewhere along the way Mugman must have changed his clothes, now wearing a light yellow sweater and darker khaki pants. He looks frazzled and out of breath though, a tired look in his eyes. He should probably take the towel now before Mugman throws it at him. Boris grabs it without another thought and starts wiping his head dry.
“Come in, and take your shoes off at the door please,” Mugman says, turning back into the house but leaving the door open for the other boy. Boris follows a moment later, ducking underneath the low doorway. He catches Mugman looking at him with those weird piercing eyes again before he walks off deeper into the house. Boris had almost forgotten his nerves but now they come back full force.
He doesn’t wear shoes, but he doesn’t think Mugs noticed that. His hands are flat at his side and sweating profusely. Boris hunched over on himself to try and make himself smaller and kept his eyes on his feet. Would the porcelain think it’s weird that he’s padding around the house barefoot? Boris spends several seconds wiping his feet clean, but then he’s ;eft with nothing else to do. Boris starts to sweat, his eyes shrinking into pinpricks on his face as he awkwardly waits for… something.
Speaking of the devil, Mugman comes back around the corner with a suspicious look. It looks like he almost expects Boris to be riffling through the nearby cupboard like some delinquent. He isn’t. Boris is just kinda, idling out of pure irrational nerves. His face is deceptively blank as always and he’s sure he looks like some mangy plush dog sitting on a shelf. Mugman narrows his eyes, “Are you coming?”
Boris immediately nods and steps out of the doorway, following Mugman into the next room. He shuffles and doesn’t look up from his feet, intent on not being nosy at all. They come up to a kitchen table which is lodged in the corner with 3 seats around it. Mugman's book bag is sitting on the one closest to the entrance of the kitchen. He gestures the wolf to one closer to the wall, all but pushing him into the seat. Boris has still not gained the power of speech again so he just nods his thanks. Mugman finally sits down in his chair and puts his book bag on the table. He opens it to pull out a binder stuffed to the brim with paper. That kinda looks familiar… oh yeah he still had homework to do.
Sliding his bag off Boris tries to settle his nerves, matching the mug by pulling out his homework. He sits his bag on the floor though, to take up less space.
“So, you mentioned getting out of math homework, I’m assuming you were talking about Mr. Baldi's idea of a small packet?” Mugman says, breaking the silence again. He’s leaning over his own packet, markedly farther through it than Boris. He must’ve worked on it during class or something.
Boris nods his head and pretends to start reading the first question. He’s definitely ruining this, and it was going so well on the walk over. Maybe it’s the combination of actually being alone with Mugman and in an entirely new environment that he really has no place in. He just feels out of place in a home that isn’t his. His pen has drawn a little square at the top of his paper as he tries to chill himself out. Maybe he should’ve insisted on leaving instead of letting his stupid hind brain think he could handle normal human interaction. He really wanted to be friends with Mugman, god damn it.
What the hell is going on right now???
Just a couple minutes ago they were just fine! Boris had even been smiling at him! They were talking freely and Mugman sorta felt a connection. Was he mad about the tripping into a puddle thing? He didn’t seem mad at the moment. Maybe it finally hit him? He thought they were getting close, he honestly did despite his mind trying to tell him otherwise. Mugman sighs and focuses on his work for now, allowing the math equations to swallow him so he could get away from this hollow feeling.
After a while when Mugman only has a couple pages left he finally dares to look up at Boris again. Maybe he just needed some time to breathe after the walk. The wolf has his shoulders hunched in on himself , working dutifully on his packet- hold on. Is he almost done with his packet as well? Didn’t he just start, Mugman glances over at the nearby cat clock, 40 minutes ago? Wait, had he been zoned out for that long too?! Whatever, the more important question was how the hell he got through his work so quickly- was he somehow cheating? Mugman sure hopes he isn’t because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to keep his temper.
“Boris,” Mugman starts to say, Boris jumps at the sudden noise and bumps his knee on the bottom of the table, rather dramatically. Mugs gives him a deadpan look and tries again, “Boris, how did you-“ Well he can’t really ask how Boris worked that quickly without showing his unrestrained jealousy so he swerves halfway through his sentence. “Hhh- would you like me to put your flannel in the dryer?”
The wolf looks to the side, crossing his arms. If he gives me more silent treatment so help me. The motion is a more ample barrier for Boris to have the courage to speak again, It seems. “I’m alright, thank you,” He says, and Mugman feels himself grinding his teeth. This has gone past nerves and Mugs no longer has that good mood the wolf himself had worked to make on the walk home. The mug stands to his feet with a grunt of frustration, slamming the table and slightly leaning forward on it. Boris startles and looks right at Mugman with an alarmed expression, one of his hands bunched in his flannel and the other held up slightly as if to reach out to Mugman.
“What the hell is your problem?!” He shouts, having finally snapped. Seeing the wolf reaching out, Mugs takes his hands off the table and starts waving them around like a maniac. “Seriously! Why’ve you gone all silent? I didn’t even do anything to you! What, is my house too dirty for you or something? Do I have something on my face?! Do you think I’m dumb?” Mugman is screeching at this point, all of his bad thoughts spilling out like a dark sludge. He hates himself for it. Why can’t he ever keep a level head? He just feels anger rupture any calm he has like a balloon and all of a sudden he’s going off on someone. Boris didn’t deserve this, Mugman knew that deep down, he just can’t stop himself.
Silence. Boris doesn’t say anything back for a while and all that fills the air is Mugman's short breaths. As the shock drains from the wolf's face a look of certainty? Like he had just been proven right. He closes his eyes and leans forward on his elbows, twiddling his thumbs. His voice is low, like he’s trying to balance out Mugman's volume with his own, “I”ll leave now. I’m sorry for upsetting you.”
The chair slides out from under Boris as he stands up to more easily shuffle his papers into his bag haphazardly. Mugman almost couldn’t believe this man's lack of a spine! It made him feel like even more of a villain. Mugs had left himself open to him, god forbid he ever make a real friend. If Boris could leave this easily maybe, maybe he didn’t think there was anything here worth staying for. The easiest conversation he’d had since starting in high school was just going to walk out the door. Mugman makes a split second decision, moving himself in front of the doorframe, “No, you don’t get to leave! Explain yourself.”
Blink. “What? You can’t- wha,” Boris says, concerned at Mugman's new solution. Serves him right, now he gets to feel all strange. Mugs doesn’t budge an inch, even as the wolf comes up to stand right in front of him, his half-zipped backpack slung onto one shoulder. Boris is looking everywhere else again, “Please move, Mugman. I’m upsetting you I-”
“No! You’re going to talk to me, whether or not you like it,” Mugs said, glaring holes into Boris’ skull. This is how adults did things right? They talked. So that’s what they were going to do. Mugman had this irrational need to make sure he didn’t lose the other boy, it was making him even harder to be around if Boris’ contrite expression told him anything. Still Mugs steamrolled forward, blurting out whatever comes to mind, “ So start talking! I don’t care if it’s just you yelling back or what! Tell me what you really feel!”
“It’s nothing,” Boris mumbles out, glancing at Mugman just once. “It’s me, okay, not you. There’s just-“ He cuts himself off, fully quieting down as he ends his sentence half said.
“Spit it out!”
Boris flinches and leans slightly away from Mugman, the porcelain fears that he was actually scaring him for a second. But when Boris finally looks him in the eye, he looks just as angry as Mugman. Well, not really. But you could tell he was fuming even as his voice barely raised above a whisper, “You wanna hear it? Fine! There's just some blockage in my head that makes me push others away!” Mugman crosses his arms as he listens, intent to actually give Boris room to talk, unlike what he does during his other arguments; which is nit pick until the other feels like strangling him. Boy what a jem he was. Boris slightly raises his voice, bending down just a smidge to fully look at Mugs, “ And I’m sorry alright! The last thing I want to do is shut down when I’m talking to you. I think you’re-” Boris runs a hand over his head, pulling his ears back with a shaky sigh. He continues, his voice still strong despite himself, “You’re cool. I think you're really cool!”
“So you don’t hate me? You aren’t angry at me?” Mugman said, though much less loud than before. His arms are crossed still but he doesn’t feel like he has to defend himself from the wolf. He’s glad he's talking to him again, even if the other sounds angry. Though Mugman is trying to keep his anger at the wolf, he feels himself cooling off. For once, Mugman feels less like a runaway train and more like someone who actually had control of himself. Boris had brought something out of him in such a short period of time.
“No!” Boris says, his voice the loudest it's been. His hands come up in front of him punctuating his sentence before they become awkward. Boris makes several attempts to reposition them but all of his movements are aborted halfway through and he eventually drops them entirely. Mugman uncrosses his arms and lets them drop to his side.
“Good!”
“Great!”
Mugman would never have let someone have the last word other than him before now, but he feels like there's nothing else to say.
They still stand in his family’s kitchen, only a foot between them. The room is quiet again, but it wasn’t that suffocating silence from before. It’s a quiet that allows them to take in the rest of the room, something that Boris had been avoiding during his time here. The kitchen is quaint if not a little old. It still has a floral wallpaper that Boris had thought was out of style decades ago, little purple bouquets. The dinner table they were just sitting at had carvings on its legs, words and small doodles. The 3 chairs around the table each have their own chair covers, hand sewn by the looks of them. Boris had been sitting in the one that had a dark green color theme, being made up out of several plaid fabrics. And if he’s remembering correctly it was lumpy as if it had been unevenly stuffed. Matching plaid curtains hung around a circular window right above the sink. The view looked out into a forest that stood just behind the house. Rain is pattering on the windowsill now and Boris turns his ears towards it subconsciously. The fridge stands in the corner of the room making a buzzing noise. Its entire front is covered in drawings and magnets. Some are barely more than colorful scribbles but some are detailed black and white sketches all hung with the same reverence. It was all so lived in, so full of love and wear from years of growth.
It was nothing Boris had ever had for himself. The nuns kept the home clean, sterile. Everything outside of his and his brother's room felt like no one had lived for years inside of its walls. There was no tell of the days he and Bendy would run down the halls, laughing as they chased each other. In their dining hall the tables and benches were long and pristine, each child propped perfectly on top. He rarely ventured to the kitchen but when he did he found no drawings hung on the industrial fridges. Or height charts carved into doorframes. It made Boris feel like his life had not mattered at all, his childhood had not left a mark physically on the home or emotionally in the hearts of the caretakers. He’s glad to have his room with brother, it’s the one place in the building that felt like he’d left a mark.
Even as he takes in the room his eyes never leave Mugmans. The room forms in his mind and wraps around him like a warm hug. Nerves creep back up on him and he has to break eye contact. After a moment Mugman slides out of Boris’ way and sits back down at the table. Boris glances over at him expecting him to be turned away. But Mugman is smiling up at him, his janky smile that Boris first saw on their walk over here. Boris smiles back before he can catch himself. He’s glad they made up, he was scared he’d have to lose him. But Mugman understood his silences now and talked enough for the both of them. The wolf steps away from the door frame and back to his seat right across from the porcelain. Grabbing out his homework again, grimacing at the bent pages. In sync the other leans down to continue his work, only having a couple of pages left.
Hunching over his math homework Boris feels the last of his discomfort drain from him. He doesn’t feel like such a stranger in this house anymore, or in Mugs’ life. He really hopes they can get closer, he could really use a friend like Mugman.
