The Rise Of CuteGuy

welcome home

Scar POV

It was a few days after Xavier’s and Xisuma’s birthday, and I was wheeling myself through the airport, maneuvering smoothly between families, travelers, and the occasional lost tourist. Yeah, I could’ve used my cane today, but honestly? I didn’t feel like pushing it. Not after covering all the superhero patrols on my own while G and Mumbo disappeared off the radar for a “vacation.”

I snorted just thinking about it. Vacation, my left boot. I knew exactly what they were doing.

I rolled up to the arrival gate, stretching a little as I waited for them to come through. People passed. Luggage clattered. Children squealed. And then—

There he was.

Grian.

And when I tell you he looked exhausted, I mean egg-in-a-microwave, just-dropped-out-of-hyperspace kind of exhausted. His eyes had that wild, unfocused look. His feathers were fluffed unevenly, and he dragged his carry-on like it weighed fifty more pounds than it should’ve.

Mumbo looked tired too, sure. But G? G looked haunted.

I leaned back in my chair slightly, arms crossed. "Well, someone's been staying up all night with a conspiracy board," I muttered under my breath.

He hadn’t even spotted me yet. But I knew that look—he’d been researching the Watchers. Digging too deep, too hard. I’d bet anything it was Grian who did most of it. Mumbo always kept pace, but he didn’t get obsessed the way G did when something got under his skin.

And the Watchers? They weren’t just under his skin. They were in his blood.

As soon as Grian spotted me, his tired eyes lit up—just barely, but it was there—and the next thing I knew, he was running.

“Woah—wait, G—!” I barely had time to brace myself before he launched into me, arms wrapping tight around my shoulders in a hug so sudden and forceful I nearly tipped backward out of my chair.

“Grian!” I gasped, flailing a bit for balance. But, ever the feathered menace with surprisingly fast reflexes, he caught the back of my chair and steadied me before I could tumble like a top-heavy shopping cart.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just clung to me. Tight. Like the world had been spinning way too fast for way too long, and this—me—was something that finally stopped it.

“…Hey,” I said softly after a second, my arms returning the hug with a bit more caution. “Missed you too, Bird Brain.”

Mumbo followed close behind, dragging his suitcase behind him with one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. He looked just as tired as Grian—maybe even more so, in that “running-on-three-hours-of-sleep-and-too-much-caffeine” kind of way.

When he reached me, he offered a small, sheepish smile.

“Hey, Scar,” he said, and leaned down to give me a hug—much more reserved than Grian’s, but still warm in that quiet, Mumbo way.

Not nearly as bone-crushing or frantic, but genuine.

I patted his back as he straightened up. “You two look like you’ve been through a war.”

Mumbo let out a dry chuckle. “In a way… we kinda have.”

I wanted to ask. I really did. Every bone in my body was itching to know what they'd found, what they'd uncovered—but one look at their faces told me they were running on fumes.

So, I kept my mouth shut and wheeled us toward the car.

I dropped Mumbo off first, and he gave me a tired smile, mumbling something about "sending notes later." Then we headed to Grian's place. He didn't even make it fully onto his bed. I barely had time to say "home sweet home" before he flopped down face-first and started snoring, half hanging off the mattress.