He just wanted to do something NICE. The hog seemed to be the only one cooking and cleaning around their little worry-free haven, and that was making Timon feel anything BUT "worry-free."
The problem is: everything that Timon touches is fraught with disaster, no matter how good his intentions are.
So when Pumbaa woke up to the sound of some very colourful language spilling from his partner's mouth, followed by the stench of burnt bugs, he knew EXACTLY what had happened.
"Timon," Oh, how the hog hated the way his little husband flinched; it was like he'd been caught by his colony after collapsing another tunnel. "Did you try to make breakfast for us…again?"
No amount of gentleness could cushion that feeling of failure that bubbled up within the meerkat. You think he'd grown used to it by now, but no. Either way, it was time to save face.
"Sure sure, of course I did! And I made your favourite," He paused to look at the burnt-to-chard beetles on a stick in front of him. "Ah… Crispy beetles, with those extra burnt bits you love so much!" Timon's smile was wobbly. It was weak, and fake. Pumbaa could see right through it.
So, it was with a heavy heart – one full to the brim with love for his little guy – that Pumbaa took a seat, and munched on the overly crunchy beetles.
"Timon," He paused to swallow the mouthful of burnt insect before continuing, a hoof on his compadre's shoulder. "This is… delicious!"
The cheek-splitting grin on his pal's face made the burnt bugs go down smoother, and amongst the ashy flavour, he could taste the love.
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(( Here's the actual chapter. It's short, but I hope y'all like it. @timona-lisa @cammiko-arts-main @just-aal ))
------
"So... How was hanging out with your new friend?"
Bitter. So very bitter. With a hint of hopefulness. God, he hoped his plan worked. He hoped on all the kings in the past that were trapped in that big bluish-black thing in the form of fireflies that it worked.
"Timon, we need to talk."
Well, shit. Time to play dumb! And that's what he did, he batted his eyelashes, and forced down the feeling of impending doom.
"What about?" If his voice shook, they both ignored it.
"You're acting weird, and I think I know what's going on."
There it is. Here it comes. It's what Timon was worried about all along, and he was right. He's being replaced. Pumbaa doesn't want anything to do with him anymore, and he wants to be alone with his new girlfriend. The trio turned duo was now down to Numero Uno. He's lost everything.
"Spare me the details, alright? Don't kick a fella while he's down. Just... If she makes you happy, then I'm happy for you, Pal." The word "pal" was choked out, despite putting all his effort into swallowing the lump in his throat. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and he turned to hide them, but not quickly enough.
A hoof grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, and he was met with concerned, tearful eyes.
"I never wanted to break up, Timon. I thought it was what you wanted."
Oh. Oh...
Oh God, they were both sobbing now. Clutching onto each other as if they didn't hold on tight enough, the other would disappear. And then it happened; lips met lips, and they parted. Tongue met tongue. It was heated, passionate, and it was everything they missed. They poured all their feelings into that Kiss. And when they parted, Pumbaa had one thing to say.
"My friend asked if we wanted to go on a double date with her and her girlfriend. We have a lot in common."
Oh.
"I think that sounds like a grand idea, Daaahlin'.~"
((Goddamn it. It's gonna be a three-parter. Da Homies: @timona-lisa @cammiko-arts-main @just-aal ))
------
Pumbaa noticed. The whole savannah noticed. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise anyone if his meerkat colony noticed, despite being many miles away. The aroma clung to Timon's fur, and any poor soul who walked past him felt like they were being smothered by it. (Human equivalent: when guys douse themselves in Axe body spray.)
It didn't smell *bad* per se, it was just strong, and made your eyes sting if you were near him for more than a minute.
It was no surprise at all that the heavy scent clung to Pumbaa. After all, Timon still slept on top of him; but even if he didn't, the meerkat made damn sure his new odour was all over the hog. It was almost sad, the lengths that Timon went through, the excuses he came up with, just to be certain that one whiff would be enough for that other hog to know Pumbaa was not on the market.
((So, I wait for you to call
And I try to act natural
Have you been thinking 'bout her or about me?
And while I wait, I put on my perfume
Yeah, I want it all over you
I gotta mark my territory))
It was even sadder that Pumbaa had no clue what Timon was up to. He couldn't ask Timon for advice, so he asked the only other individual he could think of.
The hog.
And as Pumbaa told Timon that he'd planned to hang out with the other hog and wallow in mud together, he acted nonchalant.
((I'll never tell, tell on myself
But I hope she smells my perfume
I'll never tell, tell on myself
But I hope she smells my perfume
I'll hide it well, hope you can't tell
But I hope she smells my perfume
I'll hide it well, hope you can't tell
But I hope she smells my perfume))
He was so not nonchalant, but Pumbaa had no clue. The smell wasn't the cause of Timon's rapidly twitching eye.
"You smell... different..."
If Timon heard that comment, he'd be grinning. He'd have the widest, shit-eating grin across his face. But Pumbaa didn't know that.
"I do? Oh gee, must be whatever Timon got into," Pumbaa was nose blind to it after spending hours smelling it. In fact, he was nose blind to everything. All he could smell was *that.* "It's pretty strong stuff."
That was all it took for the other hog to know exactly what was going on, and she was going to break it down real slowly.
"Yeah, so you know how I said your buddy was jealous? I was right, and also, he's marking you. You two should talk."
"...How are you so sure?" To be honest, it made sense to Pumbaa, but he was curious.
"My girlfriend did the same thing. Might be a meerkat thing."
((Yup. Multi-chaptered. Because you know me, I can't write one-shots with these two. I low-key feel bad for Timon in this, and also Pumbaa, but I dive more into Timon's feelings in this chapter. The next one is going to be more Pumbaa-centred, I swear. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading this, and also, I want you to know, it killed me to write it. Because I HATE the miscommunications trope. Like, just TALK TO EACH OTHER!!!! But I also realize that sadly, it's a common issue, and it's also fun to write lol. Okay I'm gonna stop yapping now, and tag da homies: @cammiko-arts-main @just-aal @timona-lisa ))
------
It was mutual, it'd been discussed, they both thought it'd be for the best if they separated-- not *entirely*, of course, just... as a couple. It was mutual, they both wanted this; it's what they'd tell anyone who asked about the breakup. The truth? Well, it was clear as day to everyone else. They were just a couple of dumb mooks who somehow got things twisted, and out of love for the other, decided that the other deserved better than what they had.
Nothing *changed*, per se. They were still joined at the hip, still spent all their time together, still shared the same longing looks... but Timon (that mook) would force himself to turn away when he started to feel that familiar warmth flood through him. And Pumbaa, he'd hide the sadness and force a smile.
It was clear to everyone, they were both not okay. So, no one was surprised when things escalated as another hog entered the mix.
Timon hadn't bothered to ask her name, nor had he bothered to remember it when she told Pumbaa after *he* asked. Whenever she was around, Timon felt a different warmth-- no, not "warmth", but an unpleasant heat that boiled and bubbled up in him. He felt like an active volcano, constantly on the verge of erupting.
So, he did what any reasonable meerkat would do... He made a dramatic show of feigning indifference and excused himself.
"Where ya headed? Want me to come with you?" Apparently, jealousy was blind, because Timon hadn't heard the hopefulness in Pumbaa's voice.
"Nah, nah. I need some alone time, you know me! Love my alone time!" It was so forced, even the other hog grimaced at it.
"Timon, I thought you hated being alone?" Pumbaa's voice was nearly flat, like he was simply stating a fact and not asking a question. Which was accurate. Timon hated being alone, and that was a fact.
"Yeah, well, maybe you don't know me like you used to," Timon snapped back. "I *love* my alone time. Love it, love it, *love it.*" Gesturing wildly before spinning around on his heels, and taking off.
"Alright... I'll see you later then..." Pumbaa sighed, but forced himself to perk up. He'd forgotten about the other hog entirely, and judging by the look on her face, she was keenly aware of the situation.
"You know that was him being jealous, right?"
She also happened to be the only party in the conversation who was aware of the situation, if the snort from Pumbaa was any indication. And if it wasn't, then his words definitely were.
"Timon? Jealous? Nah, Timon doesn't get jealous. Besides, the split-up was his idea." Another sigh, accompanied by a sniffle.
The other hog felt her heartstrings getting tugged on. *'Poor guy has no clue.'* She nudged Pumbaa with her snout; a gesture that was more out of sympathy and a need to comfort him, and partly because she understood the situation a lot more than she cared to admit.
Terrible timing. Timon missed the entire conversation and happened to witness what he was CERTAIN was a romantic, touchy-feely moment between the two hogs. Ducking behind a rock before he could be spotted, Timon let himself feel the emotions that he'd been pushing down.
Jealousy, bitterness, hurt, insecurity... All of it bubbled and festered, and it came in the form of wetness soaking the fur on his cheeks. Thick, heavy tears poured from his eyes like a never-ending stream.
He covered his mouth to stifle any sobs that threatened to escape, and at the end of his mini breakdown, he rubbed his tear-stained cheeks, and bloodshot eyes; dusting himself off, and as he peered over the rock, he realized both hogs were gone.
"This is what he wanted... Well, fine. I hope he's happy. *Happy, happy, happy!*" He muttered under his breath before sighing, he was aware of how petty he sounded.
((Do I imagine it, or do I see your stare?
Is there still longing there?
Oh, I hate myself and I feel crazy
Such a classic tale
Current girlfriend, ex girlfriend
I'm trying to be cool
I'm being paranoid, am I seeing things?
Am I just insecure?))
Like a lightbulb went off in his brain, he knew the idea was childish and petty, but it's not like anyone else would be the wiser.
"Nothing drastic... Just a little change. It's *natural.* Doubt he'd even notice..." *'But hopefully she will.'* He kept that thought to himself, buried under a mountain of denial. He wasn't proud of it, but there was no way he was going to roll over and give up on the most important relationship in his life (besides the one with his Ma. But that's irrelevant right now.)
"No one will notice."
That's what he repeated in his head, as he rolled around in the strongest scented flowers he could find... For an hour and a half.
Yeah. No one will notice that Timon smelled like an entire perfume aisle was dumped on him. (I'm imagining the SpongeBob scene lol.)
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Timon was beat, sure. But he could've sworn he misheard what the hog had just said. 'No no, he probably said, "I already made OUR bed", that's gotta be it.'
It was not it. Two, round beds made of grass were in the middle of the den. One small, one big.
"One for you and one for me!" Pumbaa exclaimed proudly. Completely missing the look on his companion's face.
Timon strides toward the nests, stretching. Examining the beds as if he were formulating a plan. 'Ah hah! Perfect...'
"Ooh! Gee, all this construction work has me bushed. Think I'll turn in early." Dramatically making a show of yawning and stretching, Timon made his way over to the smaller bed, only to use it as a step to get into the bigger one. "Ah," he folds his arms behind his head, settling into the bed. "Yeah." Smacking his lips, he was sure his message was clear. None of that 'separate beds' junk.
He was wrong.
Pumbaa watches Timon uncertainly. He glances down at the smaller nest. He pats it, circles it several times, then settles down. After a moment, he tips onto one side. "Ah! Goodnight!"
....
He's joking. He's pulling his leg, that's gotta be it... Right?
Wrong again.
"Oh geez..." Timon mutters under his breath. "Hey there, Pal, say... that bed seems way too small for a big guy like you. How bout you make yourself comfortable ova' here?" Insistent, just a hint of pleading, and the overzealous pat might've been a touch too much, but he had to make sure the message was clear.
"Oh, are you sure?" Pumbaa asked, still uncertain.
Timon's eye twitched, ever so slightly. "Oh yeah, sure I'm sure! C'mon over, enough space here for the both of us!" Gee, can't this guy take a hint?!
"Well... if you're sure..."
"And I am..."
"Okay!"
Finally.
Pumbaa curled up into the wide space, careful not to potentially crush his bedmate. Circling and completing his ritual before settling down. "Ah..."
Timon took it upon himself to snuggle closer, looking mighty pleased with himself. Warmth, shelter, and a nice bed. He's got it all.
((A Timbaa fic inspired by that one anon! I hope you enjoy reading it! Gonna tag the other homies! @timona-lisa @cammiko-arts-main @just-aal @hyperfixated-maybe @2amtunasandwich ))
------
They shared lots of things. Bug-eating was the very first thing they shared; something they had in common that they learned the first time they met, as they shared their first adventure.
Then came the second-first; friendship. They had both been alone in the world. Outcasts, misfits, it doesn't matter what name you gave it. They were alone, and then they weren't. Timon was the first person who hadn't been disgusted by Pumbaa's scent, in fact, he was the first one to compliment him on his "special power." Pumbaa was the first one to see underneath all of Timon's loud-mouthed bravado and see the parts of him that he would rather not have exposed.
They shared their first home, and second home, and every home that came after. Truth be told, any place they went was considered 'home', because they were there together.
They shared the responsibility of co-parenting a lonely lion cub, and then a lonely honeybadger.
They shared loving looks, heated glances, and nights full of passion.
Their first kiss was messy; an accident that they both shook off, but that was when they both felt those sparks fly. Their first time *together* was just as messy; lack of experience will do that, but that was okay, because practice makes perfect. And they both had tons of practice together.
They'd go on forever, sharing every first time imaginable.
They were definitely the first Meerkat and Warthog to get married, and have their wedding at Pride Rock with a bunch of lions and other carnivores.
First friend, first kiss, first love, and first husband. No no, ONLY husband.
They were each other's firsts, and each other's everything.
(( Y'all get both chapters in one day, because I'm feeling generous. Tagging the Timbaa homies - @timona-lisa @just-aal @cammiko-arts @2amtunasandwich @hyperfixated-maybe ))
–––
Timon had insisted on going first, just to let Pumbaa see how an expert does things. He cleared his throat, which turned into him practically hacking up a lung for 10 minutes while Pumbaa patted him on the back (how charming.) and after regaining his breath, he dropped his first (bomb) flirt.
"Saya, Toots, are you from Tennessee? Because yer the only Ten I see!" The low register voice did nothing but make that line tank even harder.
"Timon, we're both from the Savannah." Oh God, and Pumbaa was being genuine too.
"No, ya mook, I-- ah, forget it!" Timon pinched the bridge of his nose. This was gonna be harder than he thought, but he was determined. He was a man-- Er -- *meerkat* on a mission.
Timon tries... God, he tries SO HARD. He's desperate to prove himself. Because this sad, pathetic little guy has somehow twisted this in his head and turned it into an attempt to prove that he's worthy of being loved.
He's pulling all the stops, and it's all comically ending horribly. From cheesy, cliche acts such as dumping water on his head and running his hands through his hair– which made him look like a wet rat– and pretending to drop something and bending over *real* slow in front of Pumbaa... Turns into him amping up the antics to the point where he's trying to wine-and-dine the swine!
He's getting touchy, he's walking his fingers up Pumbaa's tusks, and for the love of God, the amount of pet names he's using should be illegal!
Pumbaa's been playing it cool, and if he's honest, he finds this all adorable. Endearing. Charming, even! But he doesn't quite understand what the big deal is. Why is this so important?
Oh well, it's his turn now. So here goes nothing!
–––
He won? Judging by the way Timon went stiff as a board, that interesting squeaky noise he made, the way he's covering his face, and the fact that his entire body is shaking.... Yeah, Pumbaa won.
And all he had to do was look at him the same way he always did, pull him close for a hug, and tell him....
"Gee, Timon, you sure do look cute when you try too hard!"
But wait, why is Timon's eye getting all twitchy? Why is he clenching his teeth? Why is there steam coming out of the little guy's ears?
"Uhh...Timon?"
And that was all it took to set off the ticking time bomb that is Timon Leslie Berkowitz.
"...Cute," He scoffed. "CUTE?! You mean to tell me I did ALL OF THAT JUST TO BE TOLD I'M... CUTE!?!" He spat out the word as if it were a stink bug he'd accidentally ingested.
Pumbaa hadn't shrunk back though. He didn't know what the big deal was, after all...
"Gee, Timon... Well, I always think you're cute..."
This was like the Hakuna Matata thing all over again.
"Come again?" Deadpanned. Timon's voice was completely deadpanned.
And Pumbaa took that as an opportunity to go for the jugular.
"Well, you're always cute! You're cute when you snore, you're cute while you're grumpy--"
"I don't get grumpy." Timon interrupted, trying to feign indifference. And failing miserably at it.
"You're cute when you try to deny things that are true--" Pumbaa continued without skipping a beat.
"...Please stop talking." Deadpanned delivery, but Pumbaa's words were *definitely* getting to him.
"You're cute when you're being sassy!" Pumbaa wasn't letting up.
"Pumbaa, I'm begging you." Pitiful, pitiful little man.
"You're *especially* cute when you do that~" Oh, he's laying it on thick.
Timon facepalmed, which was just an excuse to cover his face. "Are you finished?" He asked weakly.
"Not even close."
"Oy... What's it gonna take to get ya to stop already!?" Exasperated was an understatement. Hell, flustered was an understatement!
And then, Pumbaa delivered the final blow.
"Accept the fact that you are the cutest little guy in the entire Savannah?" Was he pushing it? Maybe. Was he gonna let up? Absolutely *not.*
"Not gonna happen, Pig Daddy." Timon crossed his arms and turned his back to Pumbaa, sticking his nose in the air.
"I'm gonna keep going, Timon~"
The sing-song voice was all it took. He folded. Folded like a lawn chair.
"OKAY FINE, I'M CUTE!"
"Annnnnnd?"
Timon sighed, Oh this is killing his ego.
"And....I'm a little guy."
"Aaaannnnnnnnnnnd?"
He was really gonna make him say it, wasn't he?
Timon swallowed whatever was remaining of his shattered, obliterated pride, and in the tiniest voice he could muster, he squeaked out:
"....And I'm the cutest little guy....in the entire Savannah..." Well, he felt hot now. He felt like he was burning up. "Happy now? Ya mook..."
"Couldn't be happier!" Pumbaa beamed, as if he hadn't just killed his friend's ego and thoroughly flustered him.
Well, Pumbaa may be the handsome one, and the hot one, but according to him, he wasn't the cutest little guy in the whole savannah. Nope, that title belonged to his bestest best friend, and husband, Timon.
