I'm going down, I'm yelling ✨️Timbaa✨️

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Prompt: “The world isn’t so bad. It has you in it, after all.”

—

Timon was at it yet again, bumbling on about ‘The World’ and all the terrible things it'd thrown their way.

“I tell ya, Pumbaa,” Timon huffed, nudging the hog in the gut with his elbow before gesturing wildly at the jungle surrounding them. “This stinks!”

“Oh, sorry…” Pumbaa smiled sheepishly at Timon, assuming his best pal had been talking about what he just let rip a moment ago.

“Not you,” Timon facepalmed — although he did wave his paw around to rid the air of the putrid odour Pumbaa had let loose with no mercy. “Okay, scratch that, yes, you. But that wasn't what I was talkin’ about.” He heaved a heavy sigh, walking off to sit on their makeshift bed and wallow.

Of course, if Timon was expecting to be left alone to wallow in misery, he was sadly mistaken. Where Timon goes, Pumbaa follows, and this was just a fact of life.

Pumbaa settled behind Timon, and the warmth from his body (actual body warmth, not his gas) made the meerkat lean back against him — despite his efforts to keep himself curled up and shielded from the cruel world.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Pumbaa asked gently, resting his head next to Timon while gazing at him with those big pleading eyes of his.

“Nuh-uh…” Timon muttered, sniffling before wiping the moisture from his eyes with his arm. “Nope. Don't wanna talk about it, talkin’ changes nothin’… just makes me think more, and I don't wanna think bout it no more.” He turned on his side, facing away from Pumbaa, and curled up into a ball.

No amount of Hakuna Matata would rid Timon of the past and the crushing Self-doubt it had left him with. Some days, his wall was built so high that he resorted back to his old ways — old habits die hard, after all.

“When the world turns its back on you, you turn your back on the world…”

It always felt like the world was out to get him, just one mistake — one screw up — away from taking away everything that kept him going.

“Gee, Timon,” Pumbaa said the same way he always did — Timon couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the cadence — before the hog dropped some much-needed wisdom. “I don't think the world is all that bad.”

“Oh, yeah? And why's that, Pumbaa?” Timon snarked, but the bitterness didn't register to Pumbaa at all.

“It has you in it, and you're my bestest best pal in the whole wide world,” Pumbaa stated wholeheartedly.

Leave it to Pumbaa to get through all his defenses and burrow right into his heart. He wasn't just Timon's rock; he was Timon's… ‘firefly’ that got stuck in the big bluish-black thing — how fitting, considering Pumbaa thought those were big balls of gas.

“You know,” Timon grinned, rolling back over to face Pumbaa once more. “Now that you mention it, the world ain't so bad, after all.”

“And why's that, Timon?” Pumbaa asked, grinning from tusk to tusk.

“‘Cause you're in it, ya big lug.” The affection oozing from Timon's voice as he snuggled closer to the hog let Pumbaa know his buddy was back to his usual self.

-----

It was bound to happen again, Timon just couldn't help himself. All that endless bravado built up and stored in such a little guy— Pumbaa had no clue how his partner could be so sassy all the time.

He adored it and thought it was quite cute, but sometimes, Timon took his antics a tad bit too far. The self-proclaimed "brains of the outfit" had gotten himself in trouble, again. And Pumbaa had to be quick on his hooves to get them OUT of trouble, again. But did he thank the hog for saving his A—Ah-hah… Rear? Take a wild guess.

Timon dusted himself off, brushing any leftover debris that clung to his fur before hopping up on Pumbaa as if nothing had happened.

"Jeez, you get a load of those guys? What a bunch of mooks!" Timon laughed— more specifically, laughed off the danger he'd put them in, just to act like some big tough guy.

"Timon," Pumbaa huffed. "I told you to ignore them."

"Pfft, me? Ignore them?? As if! Those jerks had it comin'," Timon sneered as he thought back to the altercation. "Bunch of no-good lousy… Who do they think they are, huh!?" He was getting riled up again.

"It wasn't a big deal, Timon." Pumbaa tried his best to get his little guy to simmer down, but once he was wound up, it'd take a miracle to get him unwound.

"Wasn't a big deal… WASN'T a big deal!?" Timon gritted his teeth. He was seeing red, and absolutely seething. "They do not get to talk about you like that. NO ONE gets to talk about you like that."

That's what started all of this. Some jerks decided to go after Pumbaa, make comments about his stench, and then had the nerve to imply that Timon could do better.

"Timon…" Pumbaa didn't want to talk about this anymore. It had hurt him deeply. He wanted to brush it off and be done with it, but tears welled up in his eyes, and worse, Timon had seen them.

"Pumbaa," Timon began softly, leaning over his head to look the hog in his eyes. "They don't know what they're talking about, okay?" Timon dabbed at the tears before they could fall. "I mean, c'mon. Me? Do better than you? Hah! As if…" Timon trailed off as he felt his own eyes water.

Pumbaa sniffled and closed his eyes for a moment before responding. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you coming into my life was the best thing that's ever happened to me, you big lug." Timon's voice grew thick with emotion, and he tried to clear his throat or swallow the lump that formed, but it was no use.

"You mean it?"

-----

"I'm SO glad that other hog left, there's only room in my life for one, and that's you, Pumbaa, ol' pal." Timon smacked his lips as he settled down on Pumbaa's stomach for the night.

It'd been quite an exhausting day— after all, a lady hog appearing out of thin air and declaring that your husband was actually her husband didn't happen as often as one might think.

The day was tiring, especially for Timon. Who knew jealousy could drain energy so fast?

That lady had another thing coming… It was almost laughable now.

Hah! Yeah, right, guess again, Toots.

Timon could be a tad… territorial at times, but so what if he was? Pumbaa was his, and he was Pumbaa's. End of story.

"Timon?"

Oh. The meerkat seemed to have gotten lost in his thoughts… No matter, he'd play it off. He was great at that.

"Mm, yeeesss, daahlin'?~" He batted his eyelashes and he knew he had the hog, hook-line-and-sinker.

"You didn't hear a single thing I said, did you?" Pumbaa deadpanned. Whoops, guess he wasn't as good as he thought.

Timon chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck and continued the motion until he was rubbing his cheek— it was a comfort thing, and Pumbaa knew it.

"I said," Pumbaa dropped his voice lower, using that suave tone that Timon had made fun of earlier— he just wanted to make the lil guy laugh. "There's only room for you in my life too, doll."

He didn't get a laugh. Instead, he heard hitched breathing, and the unmistakable sound of… Oh. Oh my…

"Timon?" Pumbaa didn't even bother to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Yeah, Pumbaa…?" Timon's face was burning up, and he hoped to all the fireflies stuck in that big blueish-black thing that Pumbaa wouldn't call him out.

Hope couldn't save him. That hog was going to milk this for everything it was worth.

"Do you like when I use this voice?" He already knew the answer, but what Timon did next really solidified it.

Timon hopped off the hog, shouting over his shoulder that he had to go take a leak, ran across the log, and into the jungle.

----

The first time it happened, Timon had no clue how to react— and really, who could blame him?

He wasn't used to this sort of affection— well, that's not entirely true. This was something he'd grown used to, it just hadn't happened in a while… It hadn't happened since he put his past behind him, and left his colony.

He was used to these kinds of actions from one person— Er… meerkat— he was used to this from his Ma.

Even though he had always acted like he was bothered by it; the feeling of her hands in his hair, her excessive nitpicking, with the grooming, and the bugs, and the flattening… It was a comfort that he'd missed dearly.

Go figure, it was no secret that he was a Mama's Boy.

This was different though. This was a much different feeling, and he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Maybe it was the lack of fingers? The feeling of hooves instead of hands with opposable thumbs? No no, that's not it…

'Think, Timon…Think.'

Was it the gnawing? It could be the gnawing…

Maybe it was the tusks? It did feel funny when he tried to part his hair with them… It looked funny too. Curtain bangs on a meerkat, hah! Yet, Timon couldn't deny that the look had a certain… 'Je ne sais quoi' to it…

No no, that's not it either! He was dyin' ova' he-yah! And yet, the feeling of Pumbaa carefully picking through his hair was calming.

----

It was something all animals did— whether they did it on their own, or as a group. It was a necessity, it was deeply rooted in their nature. It didn't always have the implications of something romantic or intimate, but it did have a significant implication that there was a bond between the two animals that helped each other with the activity.

The activity is grooming, of course.

Timon and Pumbaa had done this for each other more times than they could count, but it seemed like the meerkat had always been the one to initiate it.

Maybe it had something to do with his upbringing? His Ma was always coddling him, and that came with the excessive grooming. He supposed that was just how she expressed her affection for him— he was her 'very special baby boy' after all.

As Timon fiddled with Pumbaa's hair, picking out any insects that had managed to get stuck in the thick of it, and of course eating them after he blew any leftover hair off— he mused about how his Ma's love language had clearly rubbed off on him.

"Timon, you're doing it again." Pumbaa chuckled, eying his much smaller mate.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Pig Boy," Timon snarked back, but there was the familiar warmth in his words that Pumbaa had grown accustomed to. "You know how it is! You get to be all nice and tidy, and I get a free meal outta it! It's a win-win.~"

----

It was a little-known fact that meerkats mate all year round, but it was a lesser-known fact that male's initiated mating by picking fights.

Pumbaa had no idea what had Timon so aggravated lately. It seemed like anything the warthog did would set him off, and it was really starting to get on his nerves as well.

It was as if Timon was baiting him, trying to cause a scene or start a tiff over the silliest things. It had gotten so bad, Pumbaa went to Ma about it… And that's when he learned some very interesting things about his buddy.

He kept the information to himself and waited until Timon picked his next petty fight, which hadn't been long.

—

"What? What is it!? Can't you see I'm doing something here!?" Timon was doing something alright. He was burrowing, building his own mating nest.

"Gee, Timon, you sure have been irritated lately." It was Pumbaa's turn to bait him, and he was going to act as coy as possible.

"Oh, me? Irritated? You don't say… Could it be that maybe, POSSIBLY, a certain warthog has been, hmm… TICKING ME OFF?!"

Tension was thick, and it was only getting thicker. They were starting to get up in each other's faces now, and then, Timon snapped. He grabbed the warthog by the tusks and pulled him in for a sloppy kiss— one that was anything but chaste.

When they pulled apart, two things were evident. One, their faces were both burning up, and two, Timon wasn't 'mad' anymore. In fact, he was raring to go.

------

It was a feeling he knew well. Born from the many times he'd been rejected by his peers for his ideas, or simply for being himself.

"Oh great, it's the Tunnel Klutz!"

"Way to go!"

"That must be a new record!"

"Who else could break a hole?!"

He learned to pick himself up, dust himself off, and pretend like they were laughing with him instead of at him.

He developed his quick wit and razor-sharp tongue, armed with sarcasm that could cut deep.

Because when the world turned its back on you, you had to turn your back on the world. Shut it out, run from your pain, never let it get you.

How long could he keep running? How long before it finally caught up to him? How long before Pumbaa would see the mess he truly was and run for the hills too?

These were the questions that kept him up at night. The thoughts of a deeply insecure, flawed individual who against all odds, managed to find companionship in the most unlikely form.

"Aw, c'mon, Pumbaa! Who's the brain of the outfit?"

He'd ask this question as if he knew the answer, as if it were rhetorical. To Pumbaa, it was a friendly jab. To Timon, it was a desperate cry for reassurance that he was needed. That he'd always be needed. That he'd never get left behind again.

"Because friends stick together 'til the end."

He was smart, once he dropped his facade and opened his eyes. He'd learn to realize that Pumbaa lived by those words more than he lived by their so-called motto.

"Timon, I'm with you 'til the end."

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.