Author´s Note: Also titled The Various and Wondrous Methods of Coping With an Unprecedented Situation, as demonstrated by Timon and Pumbaa. I have little knowledge of legal proceedings, although I come from a family of academic lawyers.
We get Simba´s perspective at the end for once. I have modelled his behaviour as well as his favourite pastime after my experiences with my younger brothers who can be juvenile, surprisingly mature and incredibly focused on whatever game just happens to be the new fancy of their peers.
Fun fact: In Africa, hippos kill more people than lions and crocodiles. Go figure. I bet they´re lurking around, just dying to hurl themselves at you with their natural lightning speed, their inherent grace, their incredible reflexes, their-... Actually, how´d that happen?
"I´ve called the agency." Pumbaa had expected some reaction, but his partner continued to flip through the pages of an outdated catalogue as if his words had been a gentle breeze ruffling their nonexistent curtains.
"Timon?"
"Heard ya the first time", came the distracted reply. "Lemme just-... Ah. Blast it, that one expired last week. Okay." The pen clicked to a halt. "What´d ya find out?"
"They do have an agent with the name of Harrington. But he didn´t file a report on his visit to our home."
"Wait-... Why´d they tell ya? Isn´t there some sorta code of secrecy? Like, ´we won´t give confidential company data to external inquisitors´?"
"Not really. I think you confused real life with one of your movies. The lady on the phone was actually really helpful." Pumbaa smiled as he recounted his memory of the phone call.
"Lady?" Timon looked up sharply. "I see! Did ya get her all swoony with your deep flirty voice?"
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, I can hear it now. ´Gee, Lady Phone Secretary, won´t you tell me about this man? He invaded our home and scared off my associate, but I chased him off with my manly ruggedness´", the redhead imitated his partner´s growly voice, setting his writing utensil down rather harshly.
"Are you jealous again?"
"... No."
"Oh... But then why-..."
"Maybe a little bit. A smidge."
"Awww, Timon." Pumbaa trotted over to his friend and cupped his jaw tenderly. "You are the only one for me. You know I´d never do such a thing."
"Maybe not knowingly", Timon grumbled, placated.
"Well, anyway. So we found out Harrington exists-... I mean, he really works at the agency. That means they are responsible for his actions. But if Harrington didn´t submit a written account of what happened that day, maybe he really is fishy."
"Ya think?" By now, Timon was anxiously chewing on the pen, ignoring how Pumbaa grimaced at the grinding noises. "The question is, was he backed up by them or not? And why resort to such methods?"
"Umm… Maybe he thought he´d have a better chance at getting us out of here by threatening us?"
"That´s ridiculous, that´s-… Hmmm, maybe he did think he´d have a better chance at snatching our home if he threatened us!"
"… Sounds about right."
"Pumbaa! Do ya know what that means?" If Timon had acted nervous before, he seemed genuinely frightened now. "They won´t stop! And here I thought they´d give up eventually. But now… What are we gonna do?"
They both brooded over their dilemma for a while, but neither could come up with a solution. "We can´t let them take our home", said Pumbaa resolutely. "Think about what Simba would say."
"I´m trying not to", Timon whispered brokenly. His partner looked down on him, and he could not help but think of the first time Simba had shown hostility towards them. Sure, there had been frustration on both sides before. The boy had taken some time to get acclimatized to his new family, just as they both had to get used to a new constant presence in their lives, but Timon had taken it especially hard. That one time, when Simba had been unusually belligerent, going so far as to throw his dinner on the floor and snapping his teeth at anybody trying to approach him, Timon had been at his wit´s end. He had told the boy off in no uncertain terms, and where Simba´s eyes had filled with angry tears, his aggravation had turned into horror.
Pumbaa had pacified the kid with the promise of an extra large dessert and then gone to find his partner who had dashed out of the kitchen as if he was chased by a hungry lion. He had only unlocked the bedroom after Simba had told him through the door that no, he did not hate Timon, and yes, he forgave him and would Timon please come out because there was a biiig bowl of ice cream waiting that he really wanted to try. The redhead had complied, and for the next few days, he had proceeded to make both of his family members uncomfortable with how agreeable he had suddenly become. Since then, they had found a balance, but never again had he gotten that angry at their kid, nor had he let Simba see his vulnerability when it came to his parental responsibilities.
It was only in Pumbaa´s company that his self-doubt resurfaced, and the big man could not blame him. He felt the same way. But… "We can´t let him down now. We promised!"
"Thanks for the reminder", said Timon bitterly, dragging a hand across his face. "Wake up, Pumbaa! That guy meant business. I won´t let our kid get dragged into this." Pumbaa cringed at the thought. Surely the agency would stoop so low... Then he remembered how far their employee had already gone, of what they were capable, and unbridled panic gripped him.
"Simba! We gotta do something but what what can we do oh what-…"
"Hey hey hey!" Timon shot up and grabbed his shoulders. Seeing his partner so worked up always brought out his protective side. "It´s alright. Our boy´s fine, and we´ll make sure he stays that way", he said gently. Then, once Pumbaa looked at him, misty-eyed and hopeful, he continued, somewhat embarrassed. "Get yourself together, man! We´re no good to Simba like this. C´mon! We´ll sort this out!"
And for one bright moment, Pumbaa truly believed him.
"So, Mr. Matama, this ´hypothetical´ case of which you speak… Would the aggrieved party have any hard evidence?"
"Uhm. Not really, no", Pumbaa admitted sheepishly, shifting uneasily on his chair. The office was dreary and cool, like a well-polished steel table. Books were lined up on high shelves with neat precision. The man in front of him steepled his bony fingers together, and his crisp English-accented voice cut through Pumbaa like a death sentence.
"I must say, this is a rather dodgy situation. I´m not sure whether I´d be able to assist you in any way. It is, of course, against the law to threaten another in the way you´ve described, not to mention the motive of illegal material gain as such. But your word alone would not hold up in court, should you choose to pursue that option." He paused. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."
"Please, Mister Domo", Pumbaa erupted, "there must be something we can do!"
"I´m sorry", the man said, voice surprisingly compassionate. "Unless you have evidence, I strongly advise against a lawsuit."
"Could´ve told ya the lawyer wouldn´t be any help", Timon told him as they came together that evening, just the two of them. Simba was sleeping over at his classmate´s house. A faint smile crept onto Pumbaa´s face. He was immensely glad Simba and Nala got along so well. The boy did not always have it easy; usually other kids stopped hanging out with him once they found out he was raised by two men. As a result, Simba did not often bring guests into their home. But Nala only had her tolerant mother, and the little strong-willed girl did not care for other people´s reservations.
"I don´t see anything funny here", Timon griped, bereft of his partner´s attention.
"Sorry, no. You´re right", Pumbaa grunted, returning to the present. "What else is on the list?" And he pointed at the pitiable piece of paper on which they had collected every possibility of action.
"Weeell…" With a flourish, Timon crossed off the first line. "Not much. Next would be…"
"Welcome to Shadow Corporations, Accommodation and Relocation Department. How may I be of service?"
"Ah, we´re here to see Mr. Kivali."
"Certainly. Does he expect you gentlemen?"
"… No."
"Then I´m afraid I can´t let you in", the polished woman said firmly. "Please return when you have made an appointment."
"Drat", Timon said with feeling as he exited the tall building, Pumbaa on his heels. "If we call first, he´ll know what´s up. Who knows what excuses he´ll cook up for us!" He dug out their list from somewhere within his coat and eyed it unhappily. "So much for phase two."
"Does that mean…?"
"Yes, Pumbaa." Timon looked up to him, his posture practically screaming defeat. "It´s time for number three." And he pierced the list with his glare, as if he wanted his eyeballs to magically remove the line that read: Patience. Wait for them to make the first move.
Waiting was a lot more exhausting than any of them had expected. They trod on a thin line between agitation and mind-boggling boredom. As a result, their arguments had taken on an uncomfortably heated tone; even Pumbaa let himself get carried away more than once. Still, they tried to keep Simba out of their debates, but even so the boy noticed that something was awry. They noticed with concern that he became subdued around them over the course of the second week.
That simply would not do, Timon decided. They might as well hand their keys over to Harrington the first chance they got if it continued on like this.
"Pumbaa, dear", he cooed as they sat at the breakfast table, Simba munching despondently on a dry piece of toast. The man´s brown face squinted suspiciously at him, seeming to decide whether to respond to the uncharacteristically sweet address or to discard it.
"Yes, Timon?", he ventured hesitantly after a few seconds.
Timon grinned triumphantly. "I think things have been a little… tense lately. I´d like us to get out of here sometime in, oh, I don´t know, the immediate future? So how about a nice relaxing trip, just the three of us?"
Pumbaa looked as if he did not quite know how to answer, but Simba´s sullen face lit up. "Can we? But…" He stammered a bit, and his next word appeared to cost him a great deal of effort. "I have school this week. And the week after. And-…"
"Kid", Timon interrupted him with a wicked smile. "Sometimes ya just gotta kick back and relax. You know, all that worrying about school, about homework, about-… other stuff…" His glance to Pumbaa gave the man in question a foreboding feeling. "Whaddaya say we leave the worries behind for a while?"
"Yeah!" Timon ducked hastily to avoid the crumbly spray of Simba´s enthusiastic cry. "Where are we going?"
"Yes, Timon. Where are we going?", Pumbaa asked skeptically, and the redhead felt almost sorry for the way he had blindsided his partner. If Pumbaa spoke up against the vacation now, he would undoubtedly incur their kid´s wrath.
"I thought we might pay Max a visit. He´s invited us before, if you recall. And he lives near the beach, so that´s a plus", added Timon, hoping that their various encounters with his crabby uncle had faded in his friend´s mind. The first time they had met with him as a family, Simba had been with them for barely a few weeks, and Max had not even come to terms with their relationship by then.
But Pumbaa, bless his forgiving heart, nodded after a minute. "That would actually be nice. You know, he didn´t even call me fat last time. I think we could make real progress this time", he said without a trace of irony, and Timon suddenly felt the irrational need to hug him senseless. Before it could come to that, however, Simba spoke up.
"Who´s Max?"
"That would be my uncle. Ya met him once or twice, but that was a while ago so ya probably don´t remember him. But!" He bent towards the boy, fingers fluttering enticingly in front of him. "He owns a huge collection of soccer cards that he´s just dying to pass on to somebody. Someone who likes them just as much as him and who´ll take care of them. Think we know anybody like that?"
"Me! I like soccer cards!" Simba´s eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates.
"Oh!" said Timon with no small amount of counterfeit surprise. "That´s right! So all ya gotta do is show your granduncle that you´re just as much of a fan as he is. You´ll have something to talk about! Pumbaa, do you think our boy can handle it?"
"Of course!" If Pumbaa had anything in spades, it was faith in their kid.
"It´s decided then. I´ll call Max after work, and you two try to figure out what you´ll want to take with ya."
"I´m not dumb, you know", said Pumbaa later while Simba was in their bathroom, brushing his teeth more or less eagerly.
"I never thought ya were", Timon agreed lightly, even as he had an inkling of what was about to come. His eyes were glued to the drowning dishes in the sink before him, and his hands mechanically continued to scrub them clean.
"Why didn´t you ask me before mentioning this to Simba?", asked his partner , rubbing a plate dry with clumsy hands.
"I thought…" Timon began cautiously. "Ya might have tried to talk me out of it."
"Out of what? What are you not telling me?" Tossing his towel aside, Pumbaa planted himself firmly next to his smaller friend. "Timon", he growled as the other hesitated.
"Hey, cut me some slack here", Timon defended himself. "I bet you´re as sick of waiting as I am. Am I right or am I right?" At Pumbaa´s concession in form of a shrug, he went on. "And we don´t have a lot of other options right now. Work with me here. What else haven´t we tried?"
The big man shrugged again, evidently not following his friend´s line of reasoning.
"Aaand that´s why I´m the brain in this partnership. I´ll tell ya!"
And he proceeded to do exactly that. With every word, Pumbaa´s jaw sagged a little lower, until it seemed that it had abandoned its natural range of limit. Timon tapped it close with a soapy, impatient finger.
"B-but… But-… What…" It was testament to Pumbaa´s peaceful nature that he managed to keep his voice somewhat calm. "I´m not so sure that´s such a good idea, Timon."
"Au contraire, my friend. That´s the only way to go now, and if ya don´t like it, ya can stay out of it. At least I´ll be doing something productive while you", he jabbed a pointy elbow into the tanned man´s chest and then paused while he mulled it over, "I don´t know, phone call duty I guess. Or ya could pray. Like that´s useful." When Pumbaa warped his face into a mask of vexation, he chose to let go of that particular topic of debate.
"Come on, ya big wuss. It´s not like they expect us to pull off something like that. We´ll have the advantage!"
"And there´s no way I can change your mind?" Granted, Timon was able to relate to Pumbaa´s concerns. Hell, he had brooded over the whole thing himself, but with every moment passing by he felt more and more compelled to arrange some cautionary measures. That being said, he was not very confident about the whole plan working without some help. He needed to get Pumbaa on his side.
"Nah", Timon said accordingly, cutting off Pumbaa´s next sentence off with an impatient hand gesture. "Trust me, pal, it´s the only way. Or do you have a better idea?"
Pumbaa admitted he did not, and then, to Timon´s immense relief, he assented to support his partner´s suggestion. "But you will run everything by me first, alright? Doesn´t matter what. Just, please, tell me before you actually do something. I need to know you won´t go off on your own."
"Sure, pal. Whatever ya want." Filled with fresh confidence, Timon suddenly felt the burden of saving their home lighten. He had not quite realized how much he relied on Pumbaa´s presence until he had felt it fade during days of unsubstantial arguments.
For lack of dry hands, he bent to briefly rub his head against Pumbaa´s shoulder as a tentative peace offering and was pleased to feel him lean into the touch.
Simba had not felt that lost in a long time. He knew that something was going on with caretakers, but they did not talk to him about it.
Frustrating as it was, Simba knew deep inside that he would probably not be able to help in any way, nor did he really want to know about their adult problems. Life had been great recently (or at least before things turned sour in their tight-knit little trio). Who was he to want to change that?
And now that Dad had proposed his plan to go to that guy with the sports cards, his day had become even better. Not only would he miss tons of school, but his collection could really use the boost! It was about everything Simba´s heart could wish for, especially since his father figures seemed to have made up.
Seeing them so harmonious once again made him really happy, even though he would never admit it to them out loud. He had expectations to uphold, after all.
They had been talking for a while, but Simba had not been able to make out the topics over the toothbrush scrubbing and scrapping within his mouth. When he had been done, his attempts to sneak up on them had been in vain; their discussion had come to a close by then. Right now, as Simba licked the rest of the toothpaste from the corners of his mouth, they were standing closely together. He felt briefly tempted to join them, if only to see if their little moment of peace would survive his interruption, but then his Papa drew Dad into an affectionate kiss, and Simba recoiled with the all too familiar horror of a child witnessing intimacy between its parents. Some things were just not meant to be seen.
The rest of the day flew forward as Simba attended school and then raced home to pack his suitcase and to help his parents bring about some order within their everyday mess. While he did not particularly stand out among his peers when it came to willingness in the matters of housekeeping, he felt that this unexpected reward in form of a vacation merited some good will. His resolved lasted for all of an hour when he sat down in between tasks and noticed that Nala had sent him an invitation for an extra Crash King side quest. Promising himself not to play more than twenty minutes, he was yanked from the game by Pumbaa´s call for dinner.
Strangely enough, no one called him out on his conspicuous absence over the last few hours. Instead, their barely disguised flirting made Simba wish he had not parted with his quest. Alas, it was too late and he had to suffer the consequences.
"Guys", he complained after another of what he classified as an unjustifiably soppy display, or, in his own words, ´gross´. "I´m trying to eat here."
"That´s kinda the point of dinner, don´t ya think, junior?" His Dad really was in an extraordinary mood today.
"Uh, yeah!", Simba said. "So why aren´t you?"
Both men adopted that same peculiar expression that usually resurfaced whenever he did something they would consider adorable, or particularly stupid. He never knew how to classify the situation at hand, though, so he usually shut up rather quickly unless he wanted to be teased mercilessly.
But to his surprise, Pumbaa´s facial expression quickly gained an apologetic note. "Sorry, Simba. I didn´t realize we were bothering you."
Aw, shucks. He had not meant for them to take him so seriously. "Uh. Actually, it´s okay. I mean, it´s nice to see you get along again." He ducked, hoping they would not notice the blood he felt rushing to his face.
"Hey." He lifted his head to see Dad´s eyes resting on him. "We´re alright, all three of us. And we´ll always be. Ya know that, right? Pumbaa and I just had some… trouble dealing with something, that´s all."
"Sure." the boy shrugged, torn between relief and embarrassment at the reassurance. But his parents were not finished.
"But no matter what, we´ll stick together", Pumbaa insisted, and the earnest look in his brown eyes almost made Simba want to take back his earlier confession.
"Papa…"
"Because Timon and I love each other, and we love you very much, too."
"Papa!" Simba´s face suddenly felt very hot, and even his Dad cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Alright, big guy. You´re making the kid uncomfortable. I think he gets it, so ya can stop now."
"Not before I get a hug." Simba stared at the broad chest of his father with dread, already imagining himself constricted in his arms while syrupy litanies threatened to clog his ear drums with their stickiness.
"Papaaa!"
"No buts, my boy! I´m gonna get that hug, one way or the other. So what´s it going to be?" Pumbaa´s eyes sparkled gleefully, although his mouth suddenly twisted into a dramatic frown. "Oh, can it be? Has my little boy grown up so fast that he should scorn the loving arms of his parent? I must be having a nightmare, but no! I am wide awake! What dreadful day is this-…"
By now, Simba had chosen to get it over with quickly. When his father was like this, nothing except getting his will could stop him. There was also that treacherous little yearning in the tiniest corner inside his mind that longed to be enveloped in the strong arms of his father, boosted by guilt over denying the touchy-feely man his wish. At least, Simba thought as he felt those arms close around him, he would shut up now.
Then even those thoughts seeped away when he felt warmth suffusing his entire being, until his concerns over preserving his dignity had faded. It was a perfect moment, and it was made even more perfect by the feeling of his Dad´s presence lightly draping himself over his back, joining them in their togetherness.
"We love you so much", he felt more than heard his voice whisper into his ear, so quietly that Pumbaa could impossibly have heard it. "Don´t you ever forget it."
Simba´s throat felt funny all of a sudden, and wanted to say something, anything in return, wanted to tell them that he loved them even more and that they did not stand a chance against by how much his love excelled theirs, that it was not even funny how much greater it was, but he could not get the words out. Still, as one arm of his squeezed Papa Pumbaa back with all its might and the other found its way around his Dad, he somehow knew they understood.