Cuddles

                                    

                                          
Mumbo pov 
When Grumbot pinged me with a notification about Grian overusing his magic, I felt a surge of concern. Grian had a knack for pushing himself too hard, and today seemed to be no exception. Moments later, he stumbled into my office without a word, looking utterly drained. He bypassed everything—my desk, my curious look, even the fresh cup of tea I had brewed—and made a beeline for the couch in my inner office.
I followed him quickly, peeking around the corner just in time to see him collapse onto the couch and wrap himself in his wings. It wasn’t often I saw Grian like this, and as I stepped closer, I froze for a moment, caught off guard.
Without his magic concealing him, all his avian features were on full display. His feathered ears twitched slightly in his sleep, and his clawed feet curled as if gripping something invisible. But what really drew my attention were his wings.
They were magnificent—large, powerful, and uniquely his—but they were also in rough shape. The feathers were unkempt, some bent awkwardly, others slightly frayed at the edges. It was painfully clear that he had been neglecting them. I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Had anyone noticed how bad they had gotten? Did he even realize it himself?
I crouched down beside him, careful not to wake him, and examined the state of his wings more closely. Grian was usually so meticulous about his appearance, but his wings told a different story. They screamed exhaustion and overuse, and it was obvious they hadn’t been properly preened in a long time.
“Grian,” I murmured softly, even though I knew he was too far gone to hear me.
I hesitated, torn between letting him rest and doing something about his wings. Preening was an incredibly personal thing for avians, and I didn’t want to overstep. But at the same time, leaving him like this felt wrong.
Instead, I grabbed a spare blanket from the corner and draped it gently over him, tucking it around his body to keep him warm. I couldn’t do much for his wings right now, but at least I could make sure he was comfortable.
As I stood back, I couldn’t help but marvel at him again. Without his usual magical guise, Grian was breathtaking in a way that felt both fragile and powerful. I made a mental note to bring up his wings when he woke up—gently, of course. For now, he needed rest, and I wasn’t about to disturb him.
I returned to my desk, glancing occasionally at the sleeping figure in the corner, and started tinkering with Grumbot’s settings. If Grian insisted on pushing himself like this, I needed to make sure Grumbot could keep a better eye on him. Someone had to.
I decided that just a blanket wasn’t enough. If Grian was going to get any decent rest, he needed to be genuinely comfortable. So, I grabbed a pillow from the small stash I kept in my office for long nights and returned to his side.
But as I knelt down to carefully position the pillow beneath his head, his wings shifted slightly, and before I could react, I felt myself being grabbed.
“Grian?” I managed to say, startled, as he pulled me into a tight hug. His arms and wings curled around me, trapping me in a cocoon of warmth.
I was about to gently wake him up or at least ask what he was doing when he shifted again, resting his head against my shoulder. He let out a soft, sleepy chirp—a sound so light and content it caught me completely off guard. My heart fluttered at the noise, an unexpected warmth spreading through my chest.
He nuzzled closer, his feathers brushing against my arm, and for a moment, I froze. I wasn’t sure if I should stay put or try to untangle myself from his hold, but the peaceful expression on his face made it hard to move.