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yacinthemorning · 9 months

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Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 1

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Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hyrbid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, no workplace safety, awkward flirting

“Stay still.”

“I’m- ow! I’m trying! Stop stabbing me!”

“I wouldn’t poke you if you remained still!”

Grian let out an awful hiss, of which Jimmy simply returned before focusing back on his work. With careful hands he pinned back the linen around the base of Grian’s bright, colourful wings. Normally it was quite difficult even with a behaved customer thanks to the down that bridged into the back’s flesh. Luckily, Jimmy was an expert at this particular issue thanks to his own avian heritage. Despite further protests accompanied by goading from Scar across the room, Jimmy acquired the right measurements needed, and began pulling the linens off. “Okay, that’s all for today.” He assured.

Grian hardly waited, hopping away to the bench his companions waited for him upon. Mumbo held out his old clothes – filled with holes and poor patchwork that had also since worn through. He glared at Jimmy. “It’s a miracle you stay in business with the way you treat your customers like glorified pin cushions!”

“Oh, it’s a particularly special treatment.” Jimmy beamed, crossing his arms. “I save my best customer service just for you, my dear brother.”

He got a sniff in reply before Grian stomped out. Mumbo stepped forward instead, rummaging through his coin purse. “Sorry about that, Jim. He’s ornery about having to replace his sweater.”

“I don’t see why he should be. It’ll end up within reach in his nest.” Jimmy shrugged as he counted out the coins. “Like every other exactly identical sweater I’ve made him.”

“It’s true! I can hardly tell what’s sweater and what’s feather in that thing anymore.” Scar pushed himself up with his cane and a chuckle.

A raised eyebrow was directed to him, but Jimmy was unsure the vexling noticed. Instead, he simply logged it away in his mind. A pparently, they were at the stage of sharing nest- and nobody bothered to tell him, of course. “Well, you know how the routine goes, come back in a week for fitting. I practically know his order by heart now and have all the supplies ready.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Tim. Come over for tea sometime soon!” Shouted Scar as Mumbo opened his parasol and guided him out the shop door. It jingled upon their exit, and Jimmy waited until it came to a full stop before he stopped waving. With a sigh, he placed the linens down at his desk, then collapsed into his chair. His brother always felt like at least a full day’s work on his own.

Jimmy was sorting through his fabrics to find the right shade of red when there was a strange scratching sound, followed by the jingle of door bells and a curse. His desk’s Gaslamp shuddered like a warning. Jimmy looked up in time to see a man slinking through his half-opened door like a scolded animal. He was cloaked in rough leather and quite frankly looked like he’d just been pulled out of a well. Steam simmered in the air from his head, and a limp tail dragged a bit too slowly behind, eliciting a cattish screech when the door clamped down on its tufted end.

Jimmy’s feathers raised defensively, in instinct and appalment. “Hello?” Was the only greeting he could muster. The man fell to his knees, and it was then that Jimmy noticed how much he shook. It activated some protective part of his soul, pushing him forward to aid the man to his feet. But just as quickly as he reached out the stranger pulled back, throwing a hand with blackened claws up.

“Don’t- Don’t touch me.” His scratchy voice warned. “You’ll burn.”

“Well I can’t very well help you without touching you!” Jimmy huffed.

The stranger shook his head, though. “You’re a… specialty tailor, right?” Even his voice shook.

Curiosity piqued, Jimmy crouched down to look his guest in the eye. They were a deep red, glowing like embers, and darting about nervously. At first, Jimmy thought he might have been attacked and was searching for threats. On closer inspection, however, it was his own hands and knees he kept checking, shifting, as if they were untrustworthy. Jimmy nodded. “I am. I work with avians mostly, but I can tailor for any hybrid.”

The stranger’s tail perked up at that, mouth cautiously tilting up with it. “Do you… Can you make clothing that’s fireproof?”

“I can certainly try.” He said with a raised eyebrow. He held out his hand once more, but the man flinched back once again. “You know I can’t say I’m too eager to work, however, for mysterious men who collapse on my floor and will barely look at me.”

“O-oh! Ah, yeah, ha…” Seemingly newly aware of his appearance, the man stumbled onto his feet. He still shivered, and below the drenched rags his knees wobbled like they’d never held his weight before. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’m Tango.” A wide grin stretched across his face, strained almost into a grimace. Impossibly sharp teeth chattered together.

Despite the posture he took up for a greeting, he still refused to offer his hand even in a polite handshake. That one Jimmy couldn’t say he minded. It was a greeting that was almost entirely human, for those without other appendages to utilize. He was much more familiar with a flutter and caw, or a flare of fins, or the curl of a tail.

Jimmy tried to give as friendly a smile back as he could muster. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tango. Call me Jimmy. Now…” With Tango on his feet the muddy puddle forming under him became evident. “Would you care to share with me why you’ve come to my shop in this… state?”

“It, well… It’s a bit of a story…” The rags were pulled tighter around him. “But, um, I need clothes, is the long-short of it.”

“I can see that, yes.” Unsure what else to do if the man would not let him touch him to help, Jimmy returned to his work desk and reached for his cabinet of manuals. “You don’t, um… Not to presume from your appearance, which I’m guessing is not some bold fashion statement or typical, but I’m assuming you aren’t looking for anything too fancy?”

A strained sound escaped him, that might have been a laugh if the poor creature in front of Jimmy wasn’t so miserable. “They don’t exactly make slops for blazeborn. Even at the mines.”

“Most hybrids around here can get away with a few personal alterations, but fireproofing is a bit of a challenge without imports from the Nether.” He pulled up some of his most basic draft designs. Undergarments, a simple shirt, trousers, maybe a jacket… No, Tango probably couldn’t afford a jacket, from the pay Fwhip told him the miners received. The feathers of his ears flexed as he tilted his head around the design in front of him. Well, there was nothing stopping Jimmy from perhaps whetting his skills by making one, that perhaps happened to fit Tango…

Tango shifted, first taking a step towards the bench that sat pushed up against the window, then froze, before he shuffled back to where he stood before. Jimmy waved his hand. “Sit, sit. This’ll take a while.”

“I- I can’t. I might…”

“It’s treated, it won’t go up in flames that easily. Besides, you’re sopping wet.”

Reluctantly, cautiously, the blazeborn made his way over. One would have thought he was about to sit down on a porcupine. Eventually, though, he managed to sit himself, and like Jimmy promised it failed to burst into flames at mere contact. Of course, he’d pulled the claim from thin air. He’d never worked with a blazeborn before and he hardly knew a thing about carpentry. It was a good guess, at least he thought so, from the fact that the floorboards were not singed.

“So, um, how long will it take?” Tango asked, finally letting himself shuffle into a more comfortable position.

Jimmy hummed as he used his talon to flip through pages. “Well, I don’t exactly have weepweave or hoglin leather lying in storage, and I can’t say I’ve seen it in the market, so I’ll have to special order it which will likely take a few weeks-”

“Wha- A few weeks ?” Tango balked.

“- But we could test some more locally available materials in the meantime, at which point it will take a few days to complete the set.”

His customer seemed wary of even that but settled down, nonetheless. “I might need, uh, at least two.”

“Two?” Jimmy frowned.

“Sets. Of clothes. This is…” He tugged on the rags. “This is all I have left.”

Jimmy stared, eyes wide and brow knotted. On closer inspection the rags maybe once were an acceptable work outfit, but they’d been ruined beyond salvaging. Torn apart and set ablaze. Jimmy guessed at least the undershirt was some type of weepweave from its slight teal colour and being the most intact piece, but the rest was cotton.

“I see.” Said Jimmy. He walked over to his fabric stores and shuffled through his sample drawer until he found what he needed. “Gimme your arm.”

Tango hackles raised. “You’ll-”

“I’m going to have to measure and fit you later. If I can’t touch you, I can’t make clothes for you.” Jimmy tutted. “Come on, I just need to check what materials will survive.”

It took another minute of patience but eventually the blazeborn offered up his arm. Jimmy gave him a grateful chirp, a tone he hoped was calming to the non-avian. There was an odd jolt in his shoulders, but it settled as he placed the sample to his arm.

Jimmy could feel how warm his skin really was. Too hot, but certainly not hot enough to cause fabric to burst into flames. It was more like a high fever, but he wasn’t flushed with one. Jimmy looked up to his face, which was contorted with fear, unblinkingly trained on the fabric. His hair was dampened down like he’d been caught in a rainstorm, but the strands danced on their own. Little cinders would light in them before they fizzled out into steam.

“How does this texture feel to your skin?” Asked Jimmy. To what extent he needed to specialize his work for a blazeborn was beyond his knowledge.

Tango shrugged. “It’s fine. Soft.”

“Soft?” Jimmy couldn’t help chuckle. Compared to the other wools in his collection this one was rather coarse. “Well, that’s good to know. I don’t know how hot you can become, but wool is quite resistant to fire. Burns out before it can spread. I don’t know if it’ll be too warm for you, though.”

“No! No, no, that's fine. Warm’s… good.” His tail swayed, curly up over his leg before falling back to the side. “It’s a lot colder here.”

Backing up, Jimmy offered a smile. “Then wool it is. Do you, um, I suppose you don’t have much issue with sweating?”

“No, can’t do that even if it was warm.”

“Excellent. Then, let me get measurements started.”

Tango still seemed unsure, but a polite smile formed on his lips as he nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Measurements became awkward as they realized Tango had no clothes to wear while doing so. In the end, Jimmy offered him one of his undershirts. It was too tight around the shoulders and too long in the midsection, but it would do. Seeing the linen fail to catch fire when he wore it also did well to calm Tango from whatever situation had spooked him in the first place. In the following hours Tango offered no explanation, and so Jimmy offered no questions.

Then there was the matter of… well, rather the same matter of Tango still lacking clothing. He could not very well go out into public so indecent. They settled on Jimmy rushing his order and letting him stay overnight. “I’m probably fired and thrown out of the company barracks, anyways.” He laughed humourlessly. Jimmy was far from wealthy, but he had a bench and extra blankets. Hopefully he would have something to wear by the morning so he could retrieve his things.

Of course, there was a good chance the man just wanders off with his new clothes to never be seen again. Tango asked Jimmy if he was worried about that very situation. What was Jimmy to do, though? Go to the police about a man who swindled him out of a few dollars of his cheapest fabric and thread? Not seeing a man run around town as bare as the day he was born was probably enough compensation. Jimmy wasn’t that stingy.

It was probably why he wasn’t wealthy, instead stuck in a mining town whose mines were already drying up.

Jimmy wasn’t much of a cook, but he could stew up some meat and vegetables. “You might as well have some.” He didn’t give space for Tango to protest, placing a bowl in front of him.

“Is that curry?” Tango asked in awe.

“It was a gift for putting up with my brother’s... poor decorum.” A spicy scent wafted up from his spoon. Truth be told he wasn’t a fan the last time he got to try some, but there was no reason to let it go to waste.

Tango showed no hesitation after that. The curry was inhaled within minutes. “Man, I haven’t had a lick of curry since I left the Nether.” He sighed, licking his chops of the last flecks. “It’s so expensive here, like it’s a delicacy or something.”

“When you have to import the ingredients from so far, it is.”

“Mmm. Everything from the Nether is hard to get here.” Melancholy seeped into the blazeborn’s gaze. “And money’s harder to come by. You make copper on the diamond as a digger in those mines. And they take most of it just to equip you.”

Jimmy smiled sympathetically. “They don’t call it the wild west for nothing. Labour laws are merely suggestions out here.”

“You seem to be doing fine for yourself, to help out a beggar like me.” A fork pointed accusatively at the tailor. “Your brother… You mean that Grian guy, right? The profiteer.”

“He prefers the term ‘investor,’ but yes.”

“The swindler.” Tango narrowed his eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Jimmy laughed. “Indeed, that’s him.”

“He’s the reason that quack and that inventor stay in business. They sold our mine a bunch of equipment that fell apart the next day. I don’t know how they stuck around town after that. How’s a sweet apple like you fall from the same tree as that bad egg?”

“Unless you’re attempting to imply something, I think you’ve confused your metaphors.” Giggling through every word was becoming difficult to resist. Tango seemed aware of this, sharp teeth forming into a mischievous smirk.

Neither took much notice when the old grandfather clock struck eight, then nine, and then ten.

Tango twirled around in the centre of Jimmy’s studio, new clothing flaring out in all directions where it had not been properly tucked in. “How does it look?” He asked, pride shown in his stance.

With a tilt of his head, Jimmy responded, “I think I need to bring the waist a bit more.”

“More adjustments?” Immediately the netherborn deflated.

“I’m afraid that’s how it goes.”

“Clothing in the Nether is never this fitted.” He complained while Jimmy got back to work unpinning. “Neither are slops.”

Jimmy clicked his tongue, having just barely avoided stabbing his finger. If he were to keep count, Grian’s claims of harm would seem laughable beside the number of times the only one who was hurt by Jimmy’s sewing was himself. “Then asking an avian to clothe you was a grave mistake on your part.”

“Actually, I think that’s the best decision I’ve made in years. I don’t see any other handsome tailors offering to make me new clothes on his own dime.”

“Oh, stop it or I’ll take it back.” Jimmy grumbled, though his cheeks had turned red.

The doorbell chimed, forcing both men to pause and turn to the new intruder.

It was a goblin, not just any of the many from the mines - workers and children alike – but one who stood a bit taller than a goblin should. Dressed in decorated silks mixed with his rough work clothes, Fwhip was an immediately recognizable man. And it was hard not to know the man who practically owned the half-dozen mining towns in the area – or literally owned them if you were misfortunate enough to live within the neighbourhoods of barracks. In his hand was a bundle wrapped tight in a rough red weepweave cloth, and he peered around until his eyes first settled on Tango before spotting Jimmy and frowning. Jimmy couldn’t blame him, as his own mood soured significantly.

“Fwhip, what misfortune brings you back to my shop? Considering the ban and all.” He wrinkled his nose at the goblin. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea to antagonize him, but intelligence rarely drove Jimmy’s choices.

Tango’s ears pinned back. “What’s up, boss?”

“So, you are here, Tango.” Fwhip ignored Jimmy and approached his – former? – employee. “I heard someone say they saw you run off here into this mediocre shop. I came to return your things- what wasn’t burnt away, at least.”

A wry smile stretched across his face as he took up the bundle. “I’m guessing my job isn’t among them?”

“You were a good employee Tango, good with the machines, but no. I can barely manage to convince folks it’s safe to still sleep in the left wing at all.”

“Is it safe?” Jimmy asked and raised an eyebrow, to which he only received a shrug.

“I get it. Thanks for bringing my stuff.”

“If you ever need a good word put in, call me up.” Promised Fwhip. “You know, maybe this is for the best. You were always too good for the work you did.”

There was a small grunt in response. Tango had preoccupied himself with examining his belongings, which from the smell alone one could tell had not escaped whatever fiery incident had occurred. A strange sense of protectiveness – and maybe just a bit of spite – drove Jimmy to speak up on his behalf. “If that is all, we were in the middle of business, and you are still banned.”

With a pat on the back for the unemployed and an indignant snort towards the shopkeeper, Fwhip left. Good riddance, as far as Jimmy was concerned. But Tango was less joyous.

Cradled in the rough cloth were a pair of heavily burnt work boots, a half-consumed blazerod, three tins of what Jimmy assumed to be redstone from the stains, and what appeared to be…

“Are those goat horns?” Jimmy spoke incredulously. Tango chuckled.

“Durable. Good for piping redstone, and not a half-bad instrument!”

He hummed, returning to his work. “You know a bit of redstone, then? Somehow that suits you.”

“Was my job, back in the Nether. Though, even before I came here I couldn’t seem to find good work with it.”

“I heard from Mumbo and Scar that you can make light with it.”

“Yep, if you activate it then it’ll give off its own light, though usually you use it with glowstone to make lamps. It’s a bit similar to prismarine crystals or frog glass.”

“And I’m to assume the price is also similar?”

“Oh, of course.”

Tango continued his chatter about redstone and light, which evolved into machinery, the descriptions of which Jimmy found difficult to wrap his mind around. All the while he pinned and trimmed and stitched. Before either knew it, the work had been done. Jimmy had sat down, watching the blazeborn ramble on with amusement, curious to when he would notice. Once it reached a full hour, and it became clear that Tango would go on in perpetuity if not stopped by an external force, Jimmy finally spoke up.

“Tango, that’s lovely and I would very much like to hear more about clank circuits,” He softly interrupted with an outstretched hand which he gently placed on Tango’s forearm. “But if you could spare a moment, I’d very much like to know what you think of your clothes?”

“Oh? Oh!” It finally occurred to the man that there was no more work to be done, spinning on the spot to look at himself. Laughing a bit to himself, Jimmy indicated towards the large set of full-length mirrors beside him. The clothes were simple, thick for insulation and work, and dyed various dull reds and dark browns. It looked acceptable, though Jimmy was already playing with ideas for when the Nether materials came in to make something much nicer.

For Tango’s part, he seemed pleased regardless, his tail stuttering with too much energy. “This is amazing! I watched you do it and I don’t get how you put it together.”

“Well, that’s because you don’t know what you’re looking at.” Jimmy offered. “I’m sure with your brain for machinery you could figure it out easily if you were to stick around.”

His ears perked. “Can I?”

“Excuse me?”

“Stay, I mean.” It seemed to suddenly occur to him the oddity of his request, shrinking in on himself. “I, uh, well I don’t really have anywhere else to go, and Tumble Town has no workhouse.”

Jimmy’s wings flared in appalment. “I would never send you to one if there were! Although, I don’t exactly have comfortable long-term accommodation for you.” He hummed for a moment, thinking. “I suppose my brother has guestrooms now, if I understood correctly what I heard yesterday.” The last part he whispered to himself.

“The bamboozler?” Tango asked in disappointment.

It was all Jimmy could do to not roll his eyes. “I’d say ‘get over it’, but I grew up living with him, so I understand. Fine, you can stay here, but I’m finding you something more comfortable to sleep on at the very least.”

“I bet your bed’s comfy.” Tango grinned.

“It is, I sleep there.”

“Well, I never said you had to sleep somewhere else.”

Jimmy was already beginning to think that, perhaps, this was all one great big mistake.

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #team rancher #rancher duo #mumscarian #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #mcyt #traffic series #hermitpires #fanfic #fanfiction #hurt/comfort #fluff #slice of life #western fantasy #alternate universe #sharing a slice of cake

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yacinthemorning · 2 months

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Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 6

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Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting, burns, verbal fight, anxiety attack

The party was in only a few days. Jimmy had received his formal invitation, delivered just that morning. In the city someone like him would never be invited to such an event, but he supposed it would be quite a boring party if only Lizzie, Grian, Fwhip, and Beef were in attendance. With significant others included the numbers were slightly better, but certainly nothing worth making a big deal about.

That was not what really occupied his mind, though. He had asked Lizzie in advance while working on her dress just to be sure. Sure enough, the letter included an invitation to not just Jimmy.

He suspected Tango had caught on to things rather quickly when Jimmy began asking for measurements and adjustments. Now, though, he had the invitation in hand. Now he could ask, and with a formal invitation directly addressed to the man the hardest part was already done for him. Or so he thought.

“There was a letter for you.” He said, passing Tango his invitation. “One for each of us. Do you need me to read it?”

Tango took up the letter, unfolding it. He squinted at the text. “No, it’s trying me, but no.” As his eyes scrolled slowly, he formed the words on his breath, stumbling over some of Lizzie’s more verbose choices. The intent was clear, however, with the location and date attached. His eyes lit up. “Oh! The party? I’m invited?”

“Yes.” Jimmy said, stiff as a board as he watched Tango reread the letter. “Um-”

Tango looked up at him, and he froze. Come on, Jimmy, the hardest part is already done for you, he chastised himself. It made him no more able to move than he had been.

Concern began to ease into Tango’s expression. “What? What’s wrong? Did I- uh, did I miss something? Am I just going there to serve drinks or something?”

“No!” Jimmy latched onto Tango’s forearms. Red painted his face as he tried to force the words out. He took a deep breath and looked away. “I just- Um. Well, given that it is a very large party and since Lizzie was so kind as to invite us both, which is indeed very nice of her as it means that we are both able to attend this most lovely celebration individually on our own, I was nevertheless curious as to your plans for attendance, as I find in social events it is quite fashionable and advantageous to ones enjoyment if you are to be sociable in your attendance-”

“Uh, Jim? English would be nice.” Tango interrupted, a claw to his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

A wheeze escaped the avian in attempt to cool his head and clear his vision. “Would you like to go with me?” Finally escaped him, high pitched and ending almost a bit too early. “… To the party, that is.”

Perhaps he was so pathetic looking that Tango chose to take pity on Jimmy, as he managed to stop himself from nearly laughing to instead gaze fondly towards the avian. “Yeah, of course I would.”

It was as though all the air left Jimmy at once, deflating him until his wings collected dust off the floor, before he pulled himself back together. He went over to his desk and pulled from it a set of very carefully folded clothes. “Then, um, I suppose my next question is that- well, I understand if you wouldn’t want to but I happen to make this for you and would you perhaps like to wear it- them- uhm…” A high-pitched trill escaped him, trying to release the tension that was quickly rebuilding in his muscles.

To this, though, Tango frowned. He took a cautious step forward, hesitantly brushing a finger across the material. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Panic filled Jimmy. Had Tango already bought a suit like Impulse had? No, he only just found out he was going. Unless someone had let slip earlier and this was all a ruse and Grian and Scar were behind the curtains laughing to themselves at what a fool Jimmy was making of himself-

“I won’t- It looks expensive. Will they be okay? Should I even be going to party like this?” Tango mumbled, ears pinned back. His tail twitched behind him until it found his ankle and wrapped tight around it.

Right. Jimmy’s expression eased. “Of course they will be. How many pieces have I made for you? And you haven’t so much as singed a shirt yet.”

“But I will eventually-”

“Oh, yes, most certainly.” He waved off, even as Tango’s face fell. He went back to his work desk to the bag of clothing waiting there. “And Impulse will catch his trousers of his scales, Hermes will wear a hole into every knee patch no matter how thick the material, and Scott’s leather jacket will grow moldy from all the melted frost- eventually. You know what happens?” He patted the bag a bit harshly. “They come back here and I fix them! Or replace them, whichever is needed. Clothes are supposed to be worn, and quite frankly I’ve trimmed more burnt hems from Mumbo than you.”

“Yeah, but Mumbo pays you to fix them-”

Jimmy’s feathers flared. “I don’t do this to be paid, Tango. I make clothes for hybrids because everyone needs clothes. You deserve a shirt that fits you. And…”

There was a long pause where Tango waited for Jimmy to continue. “And?” He finally asked.

“And, well, they’re already made so there’s nothing you can much do about it, is there? You might as well wear them. Right now, in fact. I’d like to see how well they fit.” He insisted, patting his own pants nervously. It wasn’t quite what he’d intended to say, but Tango did not need to know that.

Luckily, it seemed that was good enough for Tango, who looked still a bit unsure but resigned to having lost this battle. “Alright.” He said as he went towards the curtains. Internally, Jimmy cheered. He went to work organizing his things for adjustments while he waited.

The curtains ruffled, and Jimmy eagerly shot his head up once more.

It felt, for the briefest moment, that this set of evening-wear had been everything Jimmy’s career had been for. Morning light cast onto the dark coat, lighting the burgundy threads of his vest that hugged comfortably to Tango’s waist. His trousers sat well on his hips, forming the silhouette with ease where they draped down to his shoes, and he brass buttons matched well to his hair. Jimmy had been unsure how well formal attire would take to Tango. Now, he wondered why he ever worried.

Tango fiddled with the sleeves, tail twitching behind him when he made eye contact with Jimmy. “So, um, what’s the diagnosis?” He tried to joke, though Jimmy could see him physically shrink into the clothing.

Jimmy shook his head and approached, pulling at the hem of the coat in a test. “I feel as though I deserve a medal of some sort. I’ve managed to get you into an outfit nearly as handsome as yourself.” He said before he could think.

A toothy grin stretched to cover pink cheeks. “Really? Well, if it’s a reward you want-”

“A medal, I said a medal!” Jimmy spun around, hiding his own flushed face under his palm. It would be just his luck to put himself in this situation. Was there any other humiliation he could heap onto the situation? “Well, i-it appears I’ve managed to get the fitting done well enough the first time, for once. Try not to get it dirty before the party.”

“I’ll do my best,” Tango said, soon followed by the rattle of curtains once more.

Double checking over his shoulder that Tango was out of view, Jimmy let himself slump against the edge of his desk, running his hands down his face as he pulled his ruffled feathers in. “Void below, just swallow me whole.” He hissed to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Jimmy shot up, and marched towards the stairs. “I’m going to prepare lunch.” Maybe it would keep him occupied from jumping into a well.

It was at last the evening of Lizzie’s party. Grian’s carriage rolled to stop after a ride that was far too long for Jimmy’s liking. His brother filed out first, Scar at his side while Mumbo stepped after them so Grian could shield him from the long sunset as he pulled up his parasol. Jimmy followed next, holding his hand out for Tango to take. The blazeborn almost missed it entirely, busy gaping at the opulent doorway into Lizzie’s mansion.

“Oh, you’ve made it!” A bearded man in an emerald suit called to them as they approached. Behind his leg was a small boy in an equally garish violet outfit, but Jimmy bravely restrained his critique.

Instead he bowed, “Sausage... Hermes.” The young bow ducked further behind his papa, fledgling wings tucked tight over his shoulders.

“And who is this?”

Tango’s tail twitched nervously as attention turned to him. His smile stretched into an awkward thing, bowing hesitantly. “This is Tango... of the Tek variety.” His voice was barely a whisper, breaking at his own surname. Or was it a title? Jimmy had never thought to ask before. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you’re the little house guest I’ve heard too much about!” Sausage giggled, to which Jimmy felt his ears become hot.

Tango shrugged. “I see my failures precede me.”

“Oh, shush, you have no such reputation!” Jimmy snapped, too embarrassed to have patience for his companion’s self-deprecation. Both Sausage and Tango jumped, eyes wide, before their expressions fell into amusement, Tango’s watered down by embarrassment. A look was exchanged between the two men in silence. “What?” Jimmy demanded.

“It’s nothing, dear, I’m glad you were both able to make it.” Sausage dodged entirely, moving on to greet the next arrivals while Tango ushered them towards the main party. At the first sight of the decorated venue Jimmy’s annoyance melted instantly. Redstone lamps dotted the garden like moons among the stars of candles and lanterns. Most of the guests, consisting of almost the entire town, already mulled among one another. Some had taken to dancing to the band’s lovely tune. Skirts and tails flared about, hugging to their wearers’ bodies as they stopped to spin the other way.

Jimmy spent a long extended moment enraptured by the simple dance they’d grouped to perform. He jumped as he was torn away from it by a touch to his arm. Tango looked up at him, lost and tail lashing. “So um, what do you do at a fancy person party?” He asked. A passing couple let out a small chuckle. Unrelated, as they had not even glanced Tango’s way, yet nevertheless caused Tango to shrink closer to Jimmy.

Jimmy softened, straightening the already ruffled collar of Tango’s coat before tilting his head towards a nearby servant carrying a tray of champagne, “How about we start by depressurizing you before you turn into diamond?” He teased, then guided his stunned companion over.

A few minutes later the band went quiet. Tango paused from emptying his second glass. Jimmy directed him towards the balcony, where Joel stood near the door. From the dim interior light Lizzie’s silhouette emerged until she stepped out into the torchlight. Her gown trailed like flowing water behind her, and Jimmy couldn’t help puff up his feathers at the few gasps and whispers among the crowd.

She raised her hands high. “Welcome, beloved citizens of Tumble Town, and thank you for being here! Food will be served at ten, and until then I hope we can all enjoy each other’s company.” The guessed muttered agreement, Lizzie giving them a moment before she continued. “Before we continue, however, I have some exciting news to share with you. I, your beautiful and humble mayor, have been coordinating with the Luxo Company with the aid of Mister Fwhip and Mister Goodtimes-”

A series of groans broke out among Scar’s victims. The man himself seemed oblivious, smiling widely in anticipation, while Grian had fluffed up defensively beside him. “- And starting this month they will begin the construction of the Tumble Town rail line, which will reach all the way next to our trading post. No longer will our quaint town be limited by a quarter day’s ride to the nearest station!”

Jimmy brightened up from the wariness Scar’s mention had brought. “Oh, it’s about time.” He chirped, turning to Tango, who seemed a bit perplexed. “Though, I’ll miss the quiet.”

“I suppose so.” Tango said, his gaze off in the distance. “It’ll be a lot easier to get your textiles.”

“It’ll be easier to get many things.” But the way Tango seemed distracted began to worry Jimmy. He gave the man a moment, only vaguely listening to the end of Lizzie’s speech. When it became clear Tango had no intention to speak his mind on his own he finally asked, “Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh!” Tango’s head swivelled, a wide assuring smile directed towards Jimmy. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Maybe isn’t all that assuring.”

“No, it’s- uh, hey! Would you like to dance?”

The shift had Jimmy’s mind reeling for a moment, and only a moment, before excitement took over. In his haste towards where the guests began to return to dancing, Jimmy forgot entirely of the odd interaction, or even to reply.

They didn’t get far. Tango awkwardly took up Jimmy’s hands in some approximation of the concept of a two person dance from someone who had never danced in their lives. Then, he froze, unsure what to do next.

No, not on Jimmy’s watch. If he was honest the dancing was his main incentive to show to these parties at all. He pushed Tango’s grip away and corrected it, guiding the blazeborn’s hand to his shoulder. Tango seemed more than happy to have the lead taken from him as they began. He stumbled along after Jimmy, eyes on his feet. It was Tango, though, after all, and quickly the little genius picked up the steps.

“That’s it, just a bit shorter a step.” Jimmy chirped, picking up their pace and pulling them into the whirlpool of dancing couples. Tango yelped as the hem of a woman’s gown brushed his tail like it burnt, though his tail was the one that crackled with a stray ember. It wove itself around his waist. A frown pulled at Jimmy’s lips. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tango squeaked, straightening his back until he was pressed close and Jimmy had to make sure they did not trip over one another. “Ye-yeah, yeah, totally fine. Definitely fine, not combustificating at all!”

Ridiculous. Jimmy snorted. With one swift spin he corrected their stance and pulled the blazeborn further from the dense crowd. “You silly man.” He chastised while Tango recomposed, though with every ounce of affection that had spilled over his heart. “What did I do without you?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t meant to let that one slip out. Nor had Tango been expecting it either. Face beet red, he stuttered in his already unsteady steps. If not for Jimmy’s quick reaction they would have been down for the count. Not something Jimmy’s dignity would have been able to recover from any time soon. Instead Tango stumbled right into Jimmy, only held up by the avian’s grip around his waist. The world seemed to quiet, Tango staring up at him with wide eyes. Jimmy, too, was entranced in shock.

Then there was the subtle smell of burning fibre.

Both men snapped out of it to follow the scent to Jimmy’s arm, where Tango tightly held onto his sleeve. A sleeve which was currently smouldering.

Jimmy yelped, more in surprise than pain. He released Tango to smack down the flames. It had not spread, was hardly a fire to begin with, and was smothered in seconds. Tango had fully removed himself by then, hands tucked away and face twisted with guilt. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“I am.” He was quick to reply. There was a blackened patch and small hole on the sleeve of his coat. Painfully noticeable, but it was not what he was worried about. Tango shrunk further away when Jimmy reached out for him. Jimmy beckoned for him but it was no use. Blown out pupils were locked on the burnt patch. “Tango, it’s completely fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Tango’s hair flared, dancing erratically while his tail wrapped tight around his leg.

There was no convincing him right now, Jimmy knew. He searched the party, noticing a few concerned stares. Out beyond a table there was a pergola leading to the back exit of the garden. Unable to reach out, he tipped a wing towards it instead. “I’ll go get something to drink, why don’t you wait there?”

Tango seemed more than happy to have a shadowy corner to retreat into. While flagging down a waiter Jimmy caught Mumbo approaching from his own dreary corner. “Is everything alright, Jim?” He asked, His concerned expression for once not illuminated red by his parasol.

“Tango just singed my coat a bit and now has silly ideas.” He sighed, taking the chance to assess the damage more thoroughly.

“He’s quite prone to that, that seems.” Mused Mumbo. When Jimmy looked up the vampire was scratching his moustache. A dangerous sign.

“I’m sorry Mumbo, but I have enough to deal with already right now, please don’t make things more complicated.”

Mumbo sputtered, “Wh- well that’s a bit rude, first of all! Second of all, I wasn’t planning to make it any more complicated. I was simply going to ask if you wanted me to accompany you back over.”

Fair enough, Jimmy supposed. “I think it would only cause him more distress, but thank you.”

“If you’re sure.” The waiter returned, and Mumbo stepped out of the way. “But I would know a thing or two about living in an unfriendly world. Poor thing.”

Jimmy paused, gaping at Mumbo, but decided to keep quiet and leave with only a solemn nod.

Back at the pergola, Tango had not even allowed himself the comfort of sitting down on a wooden bench. He hardly looked up when Jimmy approached, taking the glass from him in silence. They waited there for too long. Tango’s hair had gone from crackling to slightly disturbed. It wasn’t a sign that he had calmed, Jimmy knew, but he was in control.

“Sorry for ruining your night.” He muttered.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “You ought to apologize to yourself.”

“I didn’t burn myself.”

“You didn’t burn me, either.”

“But I could.”

His feathers raised. “But you wouldn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter if I would!” Tango snapped, flinching back at his own voice alongside Jimmy. He turned away, putting the glass down. Flicking his wrist towards the wooden bench, then the vine walls, then the crowds of guests twirling just out of earshot of their conversation. “I’m a bull in a china shop, Jim. The desert frontier sounded brilliant on paper, but all it really was is a box of dried kindling, ready and waiting for the first spark.”

“Tango...” Jimmy said, wanting to reach out. Tango made sure to keep a good couple feet between them.

“And what have I done since I came here, anyways? Nearly burn my coworkers alive? Almost blown up the town’s main source of income? Lose my job, become a leech, threaten your livelihood, make a scene at a party. Y’all do so much just so I can-” He huffed out smoke, turning towards the garden exit. “I shouldn’t be here...”

Jimmy lurched forward, snapping talons closed around Tango’s wrist. He scowled, startling the blazeborn enough to stop him in his tracks and allow Jimmy to yank him back away from the exit. “You stupid, stubborn fool! Would you get out of your own head long enough to actually listen for once!”

“I-”

“You think you’re unique? We live in the desert and our mayor is a fish! Do you know how much water we have to dig for? We never get less than a half-day of the harshest sunlight and Mumbo cannot take well enough care of his parasol to quite literally save his life! Cleo cannot look anyone here in the eye, and Scott might as well be an ice sculpture who can’t leave his shop until supper time! And Scar- Scar’s never made an honest copper in his life, on the rare occasion he does at all!”

Jimmy threw his hand out towards the crowd of dancers, laughing and twirling happily among each other. “If you don’t belong here, then who does? For goodness’ sake, your hair’s a ball of fire, no one is approaching you without knowing what they’re getting into. I- we want you here. We don’t care how useful or normal you are. What is so hard for you to wrap your head around that you’re allowed to exist?”

Tango gaped, red eyes wide and ears pinned back. Jimmy wasn’t leaving until he answered, whether Tango liked it or not. He glared, daring the man to say something ridiculous once more. “It-” Stuttered Tango like a machine lurching to life, trying to reconcile all its parts. “That’s just how it is. I’ve gone ‘round half the world and that’s how it always was.”

“And so what? Then it’s a good thing you’re here and not there!” Jimmy tried to soften his voice before he exploded and received the attention of the whole party, but it only caused it to crack. Maybe he’d been too harsh, maybe he shouldn’t have shouted. Under all the subsiding anger he could still feel his heart pounding, feathers still on end.

A sigh escaped him. “I’m still just a bother, here or anywhere.”

“I wish you would be more of one.” Jimmy’s voice was small. He reached out for Tango’s hand, snatching it up before he could react. “I wish you’d just let me take care of you.”

“There isn’t enough work here, Jim. You can barely take care of yourself.”

“It’ll grow soon! When more people come-”

“You can’t make more clothes than you already are.”

“I’ll increase the prices, then!”

Tango’s expression fell, “No, you won’t. You can barely stand charging people at all.”

“Tango, please,” Jimmy pulled Tango’s hand to his pounding heart. “Don’t leave.” The rim of his eyes felt hot. Why was he so pathetic?

“Oh, Jim.” Tango murmured, his tail curling around the avian’s ankle.

“At least wait- at least wait until your clothes are done. Please, at least that long.” Words poured out of his mouth from the mess made of his brain. “I just don’t understand. What’s wrong with this?”

No reply came for long while. Jimmy was beginning to panic – was even that too much to ask? - when Tango shook his hand free. For a moment Jimmy thought he was about to leave then and there right out the garden gate. He’s been so pathetic Tango couldn’t be bothered to wait another minute before running off to the next town. But Tango stayed put, and his hands went to his jacket pocket.

He pulled something out, something that glowed bright at even the smallest glance from the torches. “I’m not good with... Here.”

It was small, about the length of his thumb, shiny like gold though Jimmy wasn’t sure how it could be, in the shape of a songbird on a perch. Though clearly not made by a proper goldsmith, the delicate details were done with great care.

Jimmy’s head shot back up to Tango. His eyes were downcast, and Jimmy would have loved to say his red cheeks were from embarrassment or fondness, but the way his face was twisted it was more like shame. “This is-”

“It’s brass.” Tango intruded. “It should be gold, but I couldn’t... I was hoping it’d just be a prototype. Y’know, a stand in for the real thing once I could make it. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.” He finally looked up, miserable. “That’s me, Jimmy. I’m a waste of your time, I can’t even afford to court you.”

Everything clicked into place then. It was almost embarrassing for Jimmy to admit he’d entirely put out of his mind Tango being a blazeborn, from the nether. Why nothing he could say on this particular topic made it through his thick skull.

Perhaps Tango wasn’t the only one who forgot to appreciate how disparate the townsfolk all really were.

The dinner bell rang in the distance. Tango pulled himself together. “I’ll stay until I can pay you back.” He promised.

For once Jimmy kept his mouth shut. Any of the things that might come out if he did could only make things worse, he knew. He took a deep breath and tried his best to recompose himself, holding the little brass bird to his stomach. When he thought he could move, Jimmy tentatively held out his hand. Whatever expression his face was twisted in was not nearly as calm as he wished, desperate or pathetic in all likelihood. Tango took moment, staring at Jimmy’s hand like it might turn into a snake, or maybe like it might shatter. Maybe both. He settled on taking it either way, giving it the weakest squeeze that was far from assuring.

They made their way to the dining hall in silence. Lizzie’s old grandfather clock chimed ten as they passed.

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