Author´s Note: Thank you for taking the time to read this story. Feel free to comment positively or constructively, and I will be sure to take notes. Although I prefer the English/British way of spelling and formulating phrases, somehow the American way just feels right for the story. Maybe because I can´t imagine anyone beyond Scar and, of course, Zazu, say the things I´d write otherwise. So I´m quite certain to have completely mangled both styles, and I sincerely apologise to anyone whose reading experience is diminished by this.
The story essentially takes place in a humanised Lion King verse, and there will be no added elements, no magical qualities, no romances beyond Timon and Pumbaa´s comfortable little partnership (yes, they will be together in the amorous sense, but I will also not include anything M-rated or too explicit; however, should you be uncomfortable with reading about intimacy between two same-sex characters I would advise you to turn back now). Additionally, I usually try to avoid OCs, mainly because they don´t usually serve a discernible purpose in most of the stories I´ve read so far, but I will mention some characters that don´t appear in Lion King. Rest assured they will not be important and will most likely only feature in one or two chapters. Some roles are filled by characters that you might not instantly recognise; I will applaud you for everyone you manage to correctly collate.
At this point, I would also like to mention two stories that inspired me to post this one, namely Bookworm Gal´s When Did I Become A Parent? and CheerUpSleepyJean´s The King and the Coward, both equally important for their intrinsic qualities. If you have read them, you will notice some familiar elements that are unavoidable when dealing with the same subject matter, in this case Simba´s childhood and surrounding influences. Both stories also feature Pumbaa and Timon as key characters; the same holds true for this one.
Timon was not quite sure how he had managed to get himself into this situation, but he had a feeling getting out of it would be somewhat harder.
"Look, buddy, I´m flattered that you´d go to such lengths just for us, but I think I´ll pass on your generous offer. Threats kinda bum me out."
The man in front of him slid even closer, conveniently blocking his access to the room´s only door.
"Are you certain? I don´t make empty threats." His icy smile put any shark to shame. The only thing it got out of Timon was a grimace and a quick glance to his side, in pursuit of a pointy object, anything he could get his hands on.
"Ya know, I really think you should go now."
"I will. Just give the word." By now, the guy was close enough to breathe the challenge on his face. Timon was practically feeling the killer waves, and he shuddered.
"Ah, what can ya do?" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Don´t say I didn´t warn ya."
Uncertainty flashed in the man´s eyes before they crinkled once more over a glare. "Do you think I´m joking? Come on, what´s it gonna take to convince you?" And before Timon could step away, the guy grabbed his arm, effectively trapping him.
"If you don´t get your paws off me", Timon grunted with effort as he tugged against the tight hold, "you´re in for a world of trouble." The man was undeterred by his attempts to get some distance between them, and Timon would have been a lot more worried about his immediate future had he not heard the sweet serenade of thumping steps approaching their location.
"Sorry for taking so long. That darn document must have hidden itself…" The deep voice trailed off as the person it belonged to stepped through the door frame.
"…Haha. Ha. What´s going on."
Timon relaxed noticeably, and he noticed with immense satisfaction that his assailant´s hand had tightened with trepidation.
"Pumbaa. Gimme a hand, would ya?"
Pumbaa had woken up that morning with a hearty stretch and his usual optimistic outlook. He was a morning person through and through, rather unlike his housemate who considered the dawn of a new day a personal offense.
The day took a turn for the worse when he took a look at their calendar and squeaked at the red circle adorning the page.
"Right", yawned Timon as he shuffled by, hands clenched firmly around a coffee mug. "Realtor coming by today. Remember? Ya know, I left Simba with Rafiki yesterday. God knows the boy could do with a time out from your excessive spoiling."
"I suppose so", said Pumbaa, hastily retreating into their bedroom to begin his quest for a remotely presentable habitat. Meanwhile, Timon plumped down on a kitchen chair and made a grab for the newspaper.
"Don´t bother, pal. Nothing ya can do. In fact, you shouldn´t. They´re probably gonna find a reason to throw us out for good sooner than later. Why waste time fighting against the inevitable?"
Pumbaa groaned from beyond the bedroom door, mind conjuring up their last encounters with the prickly estate agent who had taken an avid interest in their property a few months back. His underhanded attempts at getting them out of their home had nearly stumped them twice, had it not been for the help of a few friends. Still, they could not be sure that the man would not succeed this time, he mused as he relocated his hasty procedure to the kitchen.
In any case, Pumbaa did not intend to give him the slightest reason to doubt their integrity and, thusly, their right to possess their cozy little home. As a result, he went into a cleaning frenzy shortly before every visit. If only he had not forgot about this one… What if they would be thrown out because he had failed to get everything into tiptop shape? It would be his fault. How would he make this up to Timon, to Simba?
"Pumbaa." The man in question glanced up from the shelf he had been wiping for the past minutes to find his friend eyeing from above the ridge of the newspaper. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"You´re using a shirt as a cleaning utensil." Pumbaa stared at the fabric in his hands only to have Timon´s deadpan remark confirmed.
"Uh. Sorry. I´ll… go take a look at the laundry."
"Uh-huh." Timon did not look impressed. But his expression turned fond for a long second before he hid his face behind a paper wall. "Just make sure to separate the colours this time."
"Ah, come on. A guy gets it wrong once…" The newspaper shook with amusement, and Pumbaa decided to let it go. He had more pressing matters to attend to.
The ring of the door bell coincided exactly with their arranged appointment, to no one´s surprise. "I´ll get it", Timon announced as Pumbaa yelped, hastily looking around to get rid of his rubber gloves. "Take your time." He waited until his friend had retreated from the point of immediate discovery and opened the front door, frowning as his eyes fell upon the man standing in front of him.
"Huh. You´re not Bluebell."
The stranger´s smile widened in return, making Timon wonder if one´s face could split in half.
"Quite right, Mister… Matama?"
"Nah, that would be my partner. And you are?"
"Edwin Harrington." The man held out a hand, and Timon grasped it warily. "Mr. Bluebell is unavailable for the time being, I´m afraid. I´m serving as his temporary stand-in. May I come in?"
"Yeah, yeah, make yerself at home." Timon retrieved his hand, unnerved by the intense stare he was subjected to. What was that guy´s problem? "Pumbaa! Why don´t you come greet our… guest?"
"Coming!" His sturdy friend approached them with a friendly smile. To his credit, his welcoming expression never wavered as he spotted the stranger in their home. "I´m Pumbaa Matama. Nice to meet you. Are you from the estate agency?"
The agent nodded. "Thank you for your time. I would like to discuss an offer with you-" He was interrupted by Pumbaa´s alarmed intake of breath.
"But where are my manners? Can we offer you a drink?"
Harrington shrugged. "Coffee, if you have any."
"On it!" Pumbaa turned and practically fled towards the kitchen. Timon watched his retreating back and then focused his attention on their visitor, offering a challenging half-smile. "He´s not too good with strangers."
The man returned his gaze squarely, and the cutting edge of his smile intensified the uncomfortable feeling that had gripped Timon at first sight. "Oh, it´s no bother. I take it you´re more… socially inclined?"
Timon ignored the question. "Correct me if I´m wrong, but I´d like to speed up things a little bit, and I don´t think small talk will do the trick. Why don´t we sit down and get down to business?" He was taken aback by the predatory gleam in the man´s eyes. He was probably anxious to get his grubby paws on their property, the greedy bastard.
"Sounds great." They joined Pumbaa in the kitchen, taking a seat around the oak table. The big man held a cup out for the estate agent which was accepted with a distracted nod. His smile seemed to have frozen on his face. He shifted uncomfortably.
"So. What brings ya here? Do we need to pack up or what?"
"Oh, no no no, not at all. I´ve come to discuss some… options with you."
"… Like a business proposition?"
The man inclined his head, piercing eyes never leaving the redhead. "In a way."
"But what do we have to offer you?", Pumbaa interjected doubtfully. His forced cheer had vanished gradually. "And what would we want in return?"
"Ah, yes. I´ll tell you in a moment. But please, before we go any further", he gestured to Pumbaa with a swishing hand that might have signified reluctance or contempt, both of which further darkened Timon´s mood. No one treated his pal like that. "… Could you fetch me your deed of ownership? I´d like to demonstrate the matter more effectively."
Timon and Pumbaa exchanged a brief look, but when the former gave a shrug, his burly friend set out to retrieve the papers, leaving the other two staring at each other.
"What´s your deal?", Timon asked some seconds later, his inherent suspicion finally taking over.
"Excuse me?" His guest looked delighted, as if Timon losing his patience was the best thing to have happened to him.
"You´re not acting like the realtors I know. Sure, I only know one other guy, but he´s… sorta alright, I guess. Even if he´s trying to rob us of our home." He ground his teeth together in frustration. "But you! I don´t get ya! What are you trying to accomplish here, huh?"
Harrington leaned forward. "Oh, I´ll tell you." And before Timon had a chance to react, he stood and trailed along the table towards his remaining host.
"Whoa!" Timon´s chair clattered to the floor as he got to his feet to meet the stranger on eye level. "What are ya doing?"
"Hey, hey", the man mocked with his car salesman voice, "Calm down. I´m not going to hurt you. Yet."
"Yeah?" Timon sincerely doubted that. The way that creep acted… It was like he was trying to get him alone. His eyes widened in alarm.
"Oi! Are ya gonna kill us? Because I´m telling ya, there must be better ways of chasing us out of our home. This is… way too messy. Think of all the cleaning you´d have to do!" He backed up, hands shaking in front of him. Where was Pumbaa? There was a hired assassin in their kitchen, backing him against the wall, and his friend was off chasing some dusty documents. "Don´t come any closer, I´m warning ya!"
"My, aren´t you eager to jump to conclusions." The man came to a stop not two meters away from Timon. "Let me tell you something. We tried the friendly way, but if you don´t want to listen, so be it. You think you have a chance against the firm? I don´t think so. You don´t know how easy it would be to get you out. A quick court order – I doubt you could afford a decent lawyer – and you are gone." He snapped his fingers once, twice. "Like." Snap. "That." Snap.
"And there´s always the quickest solution." He paused, presumably for dramatic effect, and then shrugged almost bashfully, though it seemed ridiculous in hindsight. "We´ll see how much you like your home when it´s smoke and ashes."
Timon paled rapidly, but he could not for the life of him think of a satisfying answer. The man seemed to notice his shock, and he lost some of his malice.
"Of course, we are always willing to grant another chance. If you would sign over your property to us – against a generous fee, no doubt – you could avoid all this… unpleasantness."
That jolted Timon out of his frozen state.
"Look, buddy, I´m flattered that you´d go to such lengths just for us, but I think I´ll pass on your generous offer. Threats kinda bum me out."
"Sorry for taking so long. That darn document must have hidden itself…" Oh, he should have been prepared. Of course the man would want to see those papers. Hopefully he would not mind the wait. Pumbaa´s worries were gradually pushed aside as he heard the other two conversing in the kitchen. Apparently, Timon had managed to keep the guy occupied. Pumbaa nodded gratefully and shuffled through the documents in his grasp one last time before stepping towards the door. His feeble attempt at a joke fell utterly short of its mark, and his laughter faded.
"…Haha. Ha. What´s going on."
"Pumbaa. Gimme a hand, would ya?" The two men in the kitchen were standing way too close to each other for Pumbaa´s taste. Judging by the relief on his friend´s pale face, he disliked the situation just as much. In direct contrast, the stranger´s face clouded over with contempt.
"Would you mind giving us another moment?", he asked thinly. Pumbaa searched for his friend´s eyes. Timon shook his head frantically. It was enough for Pumbaa, and he crossed the short distance between them faster than could be expected of a man his size.
"I don´t know what happened here, but I don´t like it, and neither does he. You should probably go. Now." In a rare display of fury, Pumbaa puffed up his considerable chest and bared his teeth. The man reflexively let go of his prey and retreated a few steps.
"No problem. I´ll-… see myself out then. My firm will contact you later." He looked like he wanted to say more, but Pumbaa narrowed his eyes in a glare completely contrary to his pacifistic nature, and he fled. He barely registered the door slam as he took in his distraught partner. "Timon! What happened in here?"
Timon rubbed his face wearily and bent down to pick his chair up. "I really don´t have a clue."
"But-… What did he want? Did he threaten you?"
"… Yeah, let´s go with that." There was a tone in Timon´s voice that did not sit well with Pumbaa, but he chose to let it go. Timon was still entirely too pale for his liking. Pumbaa hesitantly put an arm around him, and when his partner did not react, the other one followed.
"Sorry I took so long", he said and tightened his hold when the other sighed and turned his face towards Pumbaa. Timon´s red hair tickled his chin, and Pumbaa readjusted his grip to peer at his face.
"Tell me everything."
