Chapter Text
Tubbo has an hour left until Ranboo comes over, and he and Tommy are still standing in the kitchen, where they have been for twenty minutes, trying to convince Techno to play Wii games with them.
“Look, man,” Techno says for the thousandth time, hand idly petting Boreas as he eats another bite of cereal. “You really should be askin’ Wilbur for this. He’ll do it. Remember family fun night?”
Tubbo was not there for this family fun night, but Tommy’s told him about it enough times to know that he did not want to be there for family fun night.
Tommy scowls, waving his hands emphatically as he shouts, “Come on, man! Wil’s been playing Katy Perry in his room for the past three fuckin’ days, I don’t think he’s cut out for Wii Sports Resort right now!”
“Don’t we only have, like, two Wii remotes? Cuz we lost the other two?” Techno squints.
“I mean, yeah,” Tubbo admits. “But you can use two remotes and play with four people! You can’t do that with three people, though, so. Bam.”
Techno’s squinting intensifies. “You literally could.”
“And you’re literally going to die, so.”
Techno seems less disturbed by Tommy’s death threat than anything else that’s been said in this conversation. He heaves out a loud sigh, taking another bite of cereal and swallowing, before he says, “Fine.”
“Let’s fuckin’ go!” Tommy cheers. He raises his arm to high five Tubbo, but Tubbo misses and accidentally slams his hand into Tommy’s shoulder. Still grinning, Tommy holds his shoulder and enthusiastically says, “That fuckin’ hurt!”
“Sorry.”
“But,” Techno starts again, “I’m only gonna do, like, one or two games. I do actually have stuff to do.”
“Okay, okay, fine, whatever, yes,” Tommy writes off. “Me and Tubbo gotta go set things up!”
Techno nods. “You do that.”
After Tommy pulls Tubbo into the living room, Tubbo turns to look at him and says, “What else do we have left to set up?”
Tommy shrugs. “Nothing. Just want to sit here. He’s on his way, yeah?”
“Yup.”
Tubbo had texted Ranboo in the morning to remind him, just to be sure. He’s noticed over time that Ranboo isn’t exactly the best at remembering things-- he doesn’t, like, have some big issue with it or anything, Tubbo figures he’s just a little scatter-brained from his, like, anxiety and all that. But, still. He sometimes forgets this stuff, so Tubbo made sure to text him.
And, to his slight surprise, Ranboo sounded really excited. Tubbo hadn’t been the one to ask him over-- he didn’t even know that Tommy did until Tommy told him that afternoon-- so he had been a little worried that Ranboo might not be as enthusiastic about this as Tubbo and Tommy were. But, he was proven wrong in that regard.
Partly. Nobody could be as excited as Tommy was, interestingly enough.
Tommy may act like he doesn’t like Ranboo, but everyone in his family plus Tubbo knows that it’s a big deal for him to invite someone over that he hasn’t known for very long. Even his close friends, like Jack Manifold, he always has to go to their place.
( It’s kind of scary, isn’t it? Tommy had told Tubbo, once. Like- like letting someone into your place, you know? Cuz, like, what if they take shit? Or start being all weird with the family and all that? Or, like, just… linger, in like, the bedroom and all that.
Well, I don’t reckon they would stay, would they? Tubbo had replied, stupidly. Some failed attempt to pretend like he understood Tommy less than he actually did.
Nah, nah, man, like. They wouldn’t stay, but them having been there would, Tommy had explained. He bit his lip and looked at his hands, after that. And then you don’t sleep at night. )
It meant a lot that Tommy was trusting someone new, is the point. And Tubbo knows that the main reason Tommy is even giving Ranboo a chance is because Tubbo let him in so easily.
Still, it’s nice. Nice that Tommy can make new friends. Nice that everything is sort of starting to get better, even when it’s getting worse.
“Do you think Ranboo will bring us stuff from the bakery if we ask nicely?” Tommy asks.
“Probably?”
“What if we bully him?”
Tubbo nods slowly. “Uh, still probably. I can ask.”
Tubbo: hey boss man
[
Ranboo: mhm
[
Tubbo: bring us shit from the bakery
Tubbo: pls
Tubbo: you’ll be our best friends and we;ll love u forever
[
Ranboo: i’ll ask
[
Tubbo: TY
“He’ll ask,” Tubbo reports after a few minutes.
Tommy frowns. “He should get off his phone when he’s working. Kind of unprofessional, innit?”
“I get the feeling that maybe the bakery isn’t the most professional place. No idea where I could have possibly gotten that from.”
“It’s the best part of town, though.”
“It really is.” Better, now that Ranboo’s there.
God, Tubbo’s excited to have Ranboo over.
The two of them already see each other a lot, and generally speaking, Tubbo’s the kind of person where if a friend disappears off the face of the earth and suddenly returns to say hello to him, he’ll respond as if they had just been there a second ago. He’s a clingy person, of course-- he lives with Tommy, after all-- but he doesn’t really need that frequent connection.
That being said, he wants to be around Ranboo all the time. He’s not sure if it’s the whole new friend thing, where after a few months it’ll fizzle out, or otherwise, but he genuinely just wants to be around him. He makes so many things so much better, even if Tubbo knows Ranboo wouldn’t realize that.
So, having Ranboo over and spending time with Tommy at once? That’s a fucking win in Tubbo’s books.
On cue, his phone buzzes.
Ranboo: unsuccessful
[
Tubbo: DAMMIT
[
Ranboo: we have to maintain some profit I think
Ranboo: I can stop by a place and buy stuff before if you want?
[
Tubbo: no. come here now
[
Ranboo: okay
“Ranboo can’t get us stuff from the bakery,” Tubbo reports.
Tommy groans. “What’s the point of even having him over, then? He’s our little baker boy. Our little bread man. Life is worthless.”
Tubbo squints. “Isn’t that a song?”
“Life is worthless isn’t a song, Tubbo,” Tommy argues, glaring at him. “Unless Crywank or some shit Wilbur likes has already done it.”
“No, I meant, uh. Little Baker Boy. That’s a song, isn’t it?” Tubbo clarifies. “Like, a Christmas song?”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then, Tommy’s wheezing laugh. “Tubbo, you fuckin’- that’s Little Drummer Boy, dumbass!”
“Oh!” Tubbo starts laughing, too. “That makes more sense now!”
“Ranboo doesn’t fuckin’- Ranboo doesn’t play the drums, he is not my Little Drummer Boy, but he can be my Boy.” That’s mostly incoherent, but Tubbo’s too busy getting caught up over Little Baker Boy that he’s not going to say anything about it. “Do you think the three of us could start a band?”
“Oh, that’d be awful!” Tubbo replies excitedly. To be fair, he and Tommy can sing and know a decent number of instruments across the two of them, but that does not mean that they would, in any way shape or form, be a good band at all. Especially since he has no idea what Ranboo’s musical abilities are. Except for his bad vocal percussion skills. Honestly, he can imagine Ranboo being an amazing singer if he wanted to be, but he’s a bit too clumsy for an instrument. “We should do it.”
“Can we sing songs about women and sex and NFTs?” Tommy asks, grinning. “Do you think Ranboo knows anything about women, sex, or NFTs?”
“You picked probably the three things I would be least likely to sing about,” Tubbo points out. “Also, definitely not.”
Tommy tilts his head. “Don’t you know a lot about NFTs?”
“Yeah, because I don’t like NFTs. Also, Jack Manifold tried to get me to buy one.”
“Ew,” Tommy comments, which is probably not the most appropriate reaction but works just fine enough. “We can sing about other shit. What does Wil sing about?”
“Uh, I think just, like, depression.”
“Oh, we can do that!” Tommy gestures widely with his hands, projecting his voice entirely too loud. “The Depression Boys! Tommy and the Depression Boys! We write songs about depression and girls, still. Maybe the girls have depression, too.”
“Can you be, like, a little quieter, here?” Techno calls out from the kitchen.
“Fuck you!” Tommy shouts back.
Tubbo doesn’t have depression himself, but he can appreciate the artistic vision that Tommy’s going for. Ranboo might not be depressed either, to be fair; like, he shows some signs of that or whatever, but what the hell does Tubbo know? He’s not a therapist. It’s also probably none of his business, too. He doesn’t really like it when people theorize about his own mental health, anyway, which is something he knows that Tommy subconsciously does, seeing as Tommy has convinced himself Tubbo is depressed for the past three years apropos of nothing. Tubbo’s not even symptomatic of anything. What the fuck. Also, where was Tubbo even going with this?
“Sorry to hear about the girls,” Tubbo says, because he’s not drudging whatever that topic was up. Especially not when Techno’s in earshot.
Tommy sighs loudly. “I know, but it is okay. Me and my many wives all take Prozac.”
“Do any of you deal?”
There’s a pause, where Tommy frowns at Tubbo, before his face breaks and he starts laughing. “No, no, no- me and my wives do not deal drugs, we do not- that would be wrong and I am not wrong, I am a Good Man.”
Tubbo leans back against the couch, one arm folded so his palm rests against the back of his head. “Shame.”
“Do you think Ranboo deals drugs?”
Tubbo tries to imagine that. Ranboo– tall, awkward, weird in a pretty way, eternally nervous Ranboo– secretly dealing drugs. Maybe if he was really desperate, Tubbo thinks, considering that Tubbo definitely considered dealing drugs at one point in his life and sort of knows that he himself doesn’t give much drug dealer energy too.
For the sake of the bit, though? “Oh my God, so many drugs.”
“All the drugs.”
“Every single one.”
“Good for him.” Tommy gives a single nod. “Good for him.”
“Hey, when’s Ranboo showin’ up?” Techno says from the kitchen. “I’m sort of missin’ the sound of good conversation topics.”
“Techno, I am going to rob you,” Tommy informs him, “and then kill you. And then rob you again. And then go to federal prison.”
Techno, ever unimpressed, replies monotonically, “Thank the gods.”
“And then I’ll break out of federal prison,” Tommy continues.
“Oh no.”
Tubbo watches in mild amusement as Tommy stands up and starts walking to the kitchen. “And then I will find your house.”
“We live in the same house, Tommy.”
“Fuck.” Tommy appears to have not accounted for this. “Then I will find your… your dorm room, yeah! I will find your dorm room.”
“And you’ll rob it?” Techno looks up from his book. “Again?”
“No, no, no,” Tommy assures. “I’ll burn it.”
Techno doesn’t even feign sadness. He would be a terrible actor in the Tommy Cinematic Universe, Tubbo reckons. “Oh no. Not my dorm. That I don’t even live in because my brother killed me. Oh no.”
“Then I’ll burn you.”
“Isn’t that a bit overkill, man? I’m already dead, just leave me be.”
“I’m gonna be honest, Techno,” Tommy whispers extremely loudly and not at all inconspicuously. “I’m sort of stalling until Ranboo arrives. I miss my boy, Techno.”
“I thought Tubbo was your boy?”
Tommy grins. “Tubbo was my boy. Then I kidnapped him and now he is my brother.”
Tubbo cheerfully responds, “Sounds about right! Please save me!”
“You’re gonna have to fight that battle alone, man, I’ve been killed about a dozen times in the past two minutes-”
“Also, Ranboo’s showing up in, like, thirty minutes or something.”
“Is Tommy just gonna keep killing me during that entire time?” Techno asks, sounding faintly displeased. “Y’know, I got, like, stuff to do, so-”
“I will steal your stuff, and then I will buy a wife.”
There is a single moment of blissful silence, where Techno’s eyes are faintly squinted and Tubbo is holding back his laughter.
Then, from the staircase, Phil calls out, “What the fuck? ”, and mayhem ensues.
–
Tommy is on his Switch playing Animal Crossing, head leaning against Tubbo’s shoulder as Tubbo beats an AI in online chess so bad that his phone dies, when the doorbell rings.
Forgetting about his now-dead phone, Tubbo immediately launches up to answer it, but somehow, Tommy is faster, and soon the two of them are racing to the door as Techno warns them in vain to not knock anything over. Tubbo, at the least, is careful enough when navigating around houses to not run into a vase or something. Tommy isn’t as coordinated, but thankfully, they make it to the door without any mishaps.
Both of them pull it open to see Ranboo, as if it could be anybody else, standing awkwardly with his hands fidgeting at his sides. Tubbo’s sympathetic to his nervousness and backs off a little to let him inside the house, but Tommy manages to get the opposite impression and immediately cheers, shouting, “My boy! Finally!”
“... Your boy?” Ranboo asks. “Is that me?”
Tommy nods, finally stepping aside so Ranboo can come in. He takes off his shoes respectfully at the door as Tommy elaborates, “Yes. Until I kidnap you, and then you are my brother.”
“That’s what he did to me,” Tubbo adds.
“Oh.” Ranboo seems a little hesitant on how to respond to that, which is fair. “That’s… that’s nice? Yeah, that’s just- that’s just great.”
“But that would make you and Tubbo brothers,” Tommy comments, “which I feel like is weird.”
Tubbo tilts his head. “Why is that weird?” He agrees with Tommy, of course, because the idea of having some kind of familial relationship with Ranboo feels uncomfortable for reasons he can’t really figure out, but also because he kind of struggles with the idea of having a familial relationship with anyone, because the only relative in his life right now is an alcoholic recluse. So there might be multiple layers to this situation.
“Because then Ranboo would be your brother, but I am your brother,” Tommy confidently asserts with an ease that Tubbo can’t think about too hard, because then he will fall apart. Some days are harder with this sort of thing, when Tommy seems really insistent on hammering it in. Tubbo’s learned to smile, suppress, and play along. “You can’t have two brothers.”
“Bruh,” Techno chimes in, walking into the living room, Boreas following him. “He literally has three brothers.”
“Hi, Techno,” Ranboo says, kneeling down as Boreas runs up to him. A little quieter, he adds, “Hi, Boreas!” with a little smile that Tubbo finds really fucking endearing.
Techno starts to reply, “Hey, Ranboo-” but, expectedly, Tommy cuts him off.
“Yes, but, consider, if Ranboo becomes his brother then I will get jealous.”
“... Are you jealous of me and Wil?”
“No. I hate both of you.”
“Ah. Alright.”
“C’mon, men, let’s go play some Wii.” Tommy declares, grabbing Tubbo’s arm and starting to pull him. Tubbo twists his arm out of Tommy’s hold, which somehow makes him stumble a little, because Tommy is about as strong as a paper bag on his best days. With all due respect.
“Oww! Fuck you, man!” That
definitely
didn’t hurt, but okay, Tommy. “Ranboo, man, c’mon! Wii Sports Resort awaits us!”
Ranboo is still too preoccupied with Boreas to give much of a comment, so he just hums and continues to stroke the dog’s fur. Tubbo is hit with the want to steal Ranboo’s camera and take a photo of his expression, right now, because it is so much calmer than it usually is and Tubbo would probably want to like, look at it, for serotonin’s sake.
… Wait. No. That’s fucking creepy. He’s not going to keep a photo of Ranboo and just stare at it when he’s feeling a little fucked up. No. That doesn’t make sense. Maybe it does. Tubbo doesn’t fucking know how this works.
Ranboo just has an infectious sort of happiness. It’s sort of rare to see, Tubbo’s gathering. But, well. Tubbo would like to see that sort of all the time on Ranboo. Happiness is a good look for him. Et cetera.
But, the great Tommy awaits, and Tubbo also would probably kill a man for his happiness as well, so Tubbo walks over, pats Ranboo’s head, and says, “Wii time.”
“Oh, okay.” Ranboo stands up, brushing the fur off of his grey jeans, and gives a sheepish smile. “Uh, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Tubbo says, just as Tommy huffs out, “Why did it work with Tubbo , but not me? Ranboo hates me. I am going to lay down in a hole and die.”
“I, uh, cannot advise that.” Ranboo looks nervous still. Should he still be nervous? Ranboo’s always sort of nervous, but Tubbo figured it would fade away after a bit.
Tubbo frowns to himself. Tommy has switched to bickering with Techno, so he takes his chance and nudges Ranboo’s shoulder. Ranboo catches his eye, and Tubbo tries to give the best hey, it’s okay facial expression he can, because he’s really shit with reassurance and reading people and making faces but he wants to give it a shot. He doesn’t know what makes Ranboo nervous, but if it’s Tubbo himself, well. He can try and counter that.
In turn, Ranboo gives him a small smile and whispers, “Hi.”
“Hi there,” Tubbo replies. “Come here often?”
Ranboo rolls his eyes and starts walking towards the living room, where the TV is and snack bowls are set up. He’s less tense, Tubbo thinks, which is good; it’s always easier with talking, which is kind of funny for Tubbo to say, because he’s shit at talking and sometimes literally can’t, but, hey.
Tubbo follows Ranboo and gets the sudden urge to hold his hand, but squashes it down. Not the time or place or context or literally anything.
He does sit beside Ranboo, though. Because apparently his brain is just going to be like that, today. You hold a guy’s hand while talking about your trauma in his car once, and now even seeing him makes you have weird feelings. Not like, romantic feelings– God, fuck no– but like. Weird feelings. That he feels weird about. And Ranboo would find weird.
He’s just overly attached to everyone who is nice to him. Ranboo just happens to be among the coolest and prettiest of those. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Tommy wanders back and opens up the TV, which is a very welcome distraction. As Tubbo uses the remote to flick through settings that lead to either static or booting-up sounds, he quickly realizes something and says, slowly, “Tommy, did we even plug the right console in?”
Tommy pauses.
Then, at an excessive volume, shouts, “ Fuck !”
“Stay put,” Tubbo says to Ranboo, who just gives him a thumbs up and meekly eats a Gummy Worm.
Tubbo makes his way over to the TV, which inconveniently leans right against a wall, with all the wires behind it shoved in the small space between. Tommy, cussing to himself, tries to unplug whatever the hell they had plugged in, and Tubbo has to bat at his arm from the other side of the TV a few times before Tommy gives up. Then, sliding his body somewhat between the crack (which is not the funnest of experiences and would probably work better if Tommy did it, but Tubbo doesn’t trust him not to fuck it up), Tubbo finds the plug for the Wii and replaces it.
He carefully extracts himself out from behind the TV, brushing a spiderweb off his arm. He wonders which of them had the wires duty during the Family Fun Night bloodbath Techno brought up earlier. “Done. Jesus Christ.”
“Let’s fuckin’ go,” Tommy says triumphantly as the Wii theme starts playing. It comes out loud, so Tubbo turns it way the fuck down while Tommy snickers, the bastard. Ranboo eats another gummy worm, and Tommy ends up getting them into Wii Sports Resort without any further difficulty, before shouting, “Techno! It’s time!”
“Oh God,” Techno responds, begrudgingly sitting down on an armchair as Boreas follows and curls up at his feet. “How are we doin’ the remotes?”
“Trade off,” Tommy replies. “Me and you are sharing a remote, Tubbo and Ranboo share the other one. I’m player number 1, though. Because I’m just- I’m just so superior.”
“I’ll be two,” Techno says.
Ranboo lets out an exhale, and Tubbo gives him a look. Quietly, Ranboo explains, “Techno fits the number 2. Like, the hard ‘ch’ and everything.”
Tubbo blinks. “Oh, okay.”
Tommy frowns. “Wait, but how would Techno be 2 if I’m 1 and we’re sharing a remote?”
“Me and Techno can just share a remote,” Ranboo suggests. “So that I’m four.”
“Yeah, okay,” Tommy concedes. “Tubbo, you’re 3. Shit number, 3 is.”
“What’d the number three ever do to you, huh?” Tubbo argues.
“Die.”
“Okay, are we gonna play Wii Sports Resort or, uh,” Techno gestures at Tommy and Tubbo. “I’m a little tired of hearin’ death threats goin’ around today, I’m gonna be real.”
“Death threats?” Ranboo repeats, clearly a little confused.
Tubbo pats his arm. “Don’t worry about it.”
“... Okay.”
“Alright, gang,” Tommy announces, opening up the Wii Sports Resort menu. Ranboo looks surprised, which makes Tubbo wonder if Ranboo’s, like, ever seen any Wii game. Which would be fair, like, it’s not like a Wii is necessary for a good childhood or anything (and not that Ranboo- well. That aside), but still .
Wait.
This might be Ranboo’s first time meeting Matt, the Wii character, who Tommy is slightly in love with.
Today is going to be a fantastic day.
“What’s our first game going to be, bossman?” Tubbo asks Tommy.
“Swordplay,” he asserts confidently.
Tubbo groans, and he can see Techno roll his eyes. “You are so fucking bad at swordplay. Literally anything else. Pick, like, golf or something, at least. ”
“Swordplay is the best game, and also who plays Wii golf? ”
“Hey, man, don’t insult Wii golf.” Techno reaches his hand to pet Boreas, a slight smile on his face. “It’s the sport for the strong. Only weaklings play swordplay.”
“What’s swordplay?” Ranboo asks.
“Uh, three different sorts of games, basically you cut shit up and attack people. Or you, like, cut coconuts in half.” Tubbo shrugs. “It sort of varies.”
“Techno, I am going to play you in swordplay, and I am going to win.” Tommy selects Speed Slice, the aforementioned competitive cutting-coconuts-in-half game, and Techno sighs before confirming with his Wii remote that he’s playing, right hand still petting Boreas. Ambidextrous, but at what cost.
Tubbo leans back and pops a pretzel in his mouth, grinning at Ranboo. “Watch,” he whispers, “They get so fucking heated, it’s so funny.”
“Okay.” Ranboo inhales quietly. “I’m not, uh- I’m not very, uh, competitive, so.”
“Oh, I’m not that bad either,” Tubbo reassures. “I’m, like, kinda competitive. But not as much as Tommy. You’ll be fine. Worst case scenario, we cross team and piss off Tommy even more.”
Ranboo nods. “Sounds like a plan.”
Tubbo nods back, and then shifts to rest his head against Ranboo’s shoulder. Because he has rights, and nobody else is really paying attention, so. Whatever.
Ranboo lets out a small sound of surprise, but slowly relaxes into it, and gently leans his head back against Tubbo’s. It’s kind of weird, now, because Tubbo can literally feel when Ranboo goes to eat another gummy worm, but, as Tommy would say, gay rights. Or whatever the hell this is. Comfort rights. Best friend rights. Ranboo rights. Something like that.
“Okay, Ranboo, watch and learn,” Tommy says confidently, standing up and puffing out his chest. In contrast, Techno stays sitting in the armchair, very lax about all of this. Tubbo knows that the second Techno loses a game, though, he’s going to start calling bullshit. It’s going to be really funny. “You get these objects, and you have to slice them in a direction. And, Matt throws them down.”
There it is.
“Who is, uh,” Ranboo pauses. “Who is Matt?”
“My wife.”
“... Okay.”
Tubbo snickers. Ranboo looks at him, mumbling, “Don’t bully me.” Tubbo pats his arm in consolation.
The first round of Speed Slice starts up, and the first item to fall down is a diamond with a down arrow. Tommy, in his overexcitement, cuts in the opposite direction, while Techno does nothing and earns a point.
They are maybe one minute into this game night, and Tommy is already on the verge of committing murder. Fantastic.
Predictably, due to Tommy’s bad track record of winning swordplay rounds, this continues. Again. And again. Until he’s locked with Techno in an argument, cursing his throat out while Techno laughs at him. Tubbo, to be fair, also laughs at him, and he thinks he can hear Ranboo making small comments at Tommy’s expense every once in a while, too.
At the end of the game, with Techno as the near unanimous winner, Tommy shouts, “Fuck this, man! Swords are stupid, anyway. We’re doing the dog game now.”
“I don’t know about that, Tommy,” Techno warns, “you’re not very good at frisbee, either.”
“I hit Wil in the face with a frisbee once a few summers ago,” Tommy argues.
Ranboo points out, “That, uh, that doesn’t really. Help your point?”
“I will hit you in the face with a frisbee, Ranboo,” Tommy threatens. He turns around, presumably to glare at Ranboo, and then somehow flinches at the sight of Tubbo leaning against him. Flinches. Like. Bro. “And Tubbo, if you two don’t stop being gross.”
“He’s literally just my head rest,” Tubbo argues.
“Is that all I am to you?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Well, that’s just rude, actually-”
“-Okay, back to the dog game. Dog Frisbee. Brings tears to my eyes.” Tommy clicks on the game, stealing the Wii remote from Techno to register the Wii players. He sets Tubbo up to play on the same Wii remote as himself, but he pauses when he tries to get a fourth player in. “We do not have a Wii character for Ranboo.”
“Well, that would make sense,” Techno comments.
“You cold-hearted bastard.” Tommy casually responds, turning to look at Ranboo again. “What default character do you want? Let me show you the boys.”
Tommy starts scrolling through all the different default options, varying from normal-looking to ones that feel vaguely robotic. Which, yeah, they’re all Wii characters, but still. Doesn’t mean they have to be slightly haunting, Jesus Christ. Regardless, Ranboo seems indifferent– or maybe just too nervous to decisively pick one– so he tells Tommy, “Just, uh, the first one is fine?”
Selecting the first option, Tommy throws the Wii remote back to Techno and hits him in the chest. Techno doesn’t seem particularly bothered by this, but he does frown just a little. “You are one basic bitch, Ranboo,” Tommy adds instead of addressing the act of violence he just committed, and he clicks on the button to start playing.
The first dog is revealed– Tommy’s, being player one– and Tubbo can feel Ranboo straighten in excitement. Tubbo knows that Ranboo has a pet cat and likes Boreas, but he hadn’t realized how much he loves all pets. To be fair, Wii dogs are cute, and the Tommy household has a lot of pets too, so Tubbo can’t really say shit.
“Your dog is going to be dark brown-ish with an orange color,” Tubbo informs Ranboo as Tommy proceeds to take a fairly decent first shot. Good for him. “Mine looks like a carrot.”
Ranboo nods, seeming a little transfixed, but still listening enough to ask, “Why does yours look like a carrot?”
“You’ll see.”
It’s Techno’s turn, and Techno, more preoccupied with his actual dog than the game, makes a terrible shot. Tommy laughs loudly and says, “You fuckin’ dumbass.”
“Bruh,” Techno replies. “I’m literally so good at this game. You just don’t know my strategy. I’ve got such a good strat, it’s actually insane.”
“Well, okay,” Tommy concedes, clearly in disbelief but letting the topic go. He passes the remote over to Tubbo, and the orange dog is revealed on the screen.
“Do you see what I mean?” Tubbo tells Ranboo. “Carrot dog.”
“Carrot dog,” Ranboo agrees. “I would die for it.”
Tubbo adjusts to get off of the couch, already missing the comfort of leaning against Ranboo, and spins the frisbee off with a focused flick of his wrist. It lands so far off that the dog literally doesn’t even run to get it, which is totally bullshit and no, Tubbo is not competitive, but still. Fucking bullshit. Surely the dog can run farther than that. Tubbo can run farther than that. Fucking Schlatt can run farther than that, but no, Tubbo gets nothing good in this world and the pain is endless and eternal.
“Not a word,” Tubbo says as he sits down, glaring at Tommy while Ranboo gets up to retrieve the remote from Techno. Tommy is clearly holding back his laughter, and Tubbo shoves him. “Not a word. It’s not my fault that my dog is shit.”
“Don’t be mean to him,” Ranboo scolds. “He’s trying his best. I like my dog.”
“You really should get a dog,” Techno says. “I mean, I know you have Springerle and everythin’, but still.”
“Who the fuck is Springerle?” Tommy scrunches his nose up. “Is that a girl?”
“Now, let’s think through this one, Tommy,” Tubbo responds. “Why, in this specific context, would it make any sense that we were talking about-”
Tommy scowls and shoves him back. “Oh, fuck off.”
“Springerle is Niki’s cat.” Ranboo hands the remote back to Techno. Tubbo missed whatever shot he took, but he’s not in last place, so, good for him. Tubbo is in last place, however, so he will probably take any chance to drag Ranboo down with him. Because they’re friends like that.
Or he can sabotage Tommy. Tommy’s in first, somehow.
He’s going to sabotage Tommy.
“Why do you have Niki’s cat?” Tommy asks. “Did you steal it?”
“I live with Niki?” Ranboo replies, sounding a little confused about it himself.
Tommy hums. “Oh, right.”
Subconsciously, Tubbo had rested his head against Ranboo again as soon as they both sat down, but he also wants to violence Tommy. So, sliding a little forward, he kicks Tommy’s leg with the tip of his foot as he’s about to send the frisbee flying. Tommy, being Tommy, screams when anything mild happens to him, so he lets out a yell and sort of messes up the throwing. Not bad enough to make him lose, and his fucking dog at least catches it, but, still. It was an attempt.
“Tubbo, I am going to kill you,” Tommy says, heavily breathing for emphasis.
“I’ll tear your bones from your flesh tonight!” Tubbo replies cheerfully.
Tommy screams, “ Aah, what the fuck is wrong with you, man!”
“How is Springerle?” Techno asks calmly while Tommy starts rambling to Tubbo about how fucked up he is. Tubbo happily smiles amidst the rambles and flicks Tommy’s forehead.
Ranboo watches the two of them fight with slight amusement, but still replies, saying, “Oh, she’s okay. Niki’s taking care of her now, I think. She’s coming home to stay with me today, so.”
Huh. That’s sort of interesting. Tubbo hadn’t known about that.
Tommy has taken to kicking him in the shins restlessly as he takes his turn, though, so he’s pretty quickly distracted from this piece of information.
“This dog actually hates me,” Tubbo gloomily comments as he watches the carrot dog, once again, pout at the screen while the frisbee flies, like, a single fucking meter away from where it stopped. Just fucking run. Hello?
“He’s trying,” Ranboo defends again as Tubbo sits down, and he lets out an exaggerated sigh in response.
To the irritation of Techno and Tubbo (and possibly Ranboo, though he mostly seemed preoccupied by Whiskers, who had swung around about mid game to vibe with them), Tommy somehow ends up winning the dog frisbee rounds. Tubbo knows damn well that Tommy’s going to boast about that until the day he fucking dies, and every day will be testing Tubbo’s self-restraint as he tries to not physically maim his best friend.
Regardless, from dog frisbee they go to bowling, which, as it turns out, Tubbo is really good at. He already kind of knew that– he’s got good aim and everything– but he nearly doubles Tommy’s score, which is just kind of sad. After that, Ranboo ends up beating everyone in table tennis after getting locked into a heated match with Techno, where Techno was trying to pull out all the stops with intimidation while Ranboo laughed, sort of nervously, and tried to trip him up.
They also try canoeing, which is a complete fucking disaster. Techno had already given up on participating and wanted to go back to reading, Ranboo… is not very good at taking in Tommy’s directions, and Tubbo starts doing the complete opposite shit Tommy is doing because Tommy does not know how to canoe, holy shit.
The two of them have actually been canoeing together, way back when they were twelve. It was one of the ways they started becoming good friends, as well as the sort-of start to Tommy and Jack Manifold’s friendship, since they went canoeing with Tommy in front, Tubbo in the middle, and Jack in the back. Long story short, Jack was the only one who knew what to do, but nobody listened to him, so they had to get pulled back to shore by some lifeguard person after ramming Tommy into a tree.
Good times.
Nice to see that since then, neither of them have gotten better at the sport.
After canoeing, Tommy flops down on the couch and huffs. “I think we take a break now, gents,” he proposes.
“Can this break be, like, permanent?” Techno asks. “‘Cause I really have stuff I should be doin’ right now.”
“Okay, okay, fine. You be boring and do whatever while we men go and hang out upstairs.” Tommy reaches out and takes the gummy worm Ranboo just grabbed out of his hands and pops it in his mouth. Ranboo makes a quiet oh sound, so Tubbo grabs a gummy worm and gives it to him.
Tommy rolls his eyes at him and Tubbo pretends to not notice.
“Alright. See ya, Ranboo.” Techno gets up, Boreas and Whiskers (betrayal) following him to the kitchen as he noticeably only says bye to Ranboo. Everyone in this family is out to get Tubbo. And Tommy, but Tubbo’s usually the one out to get Tommy. So he can’t really say shit.
“Your room or mine, boss man?” Tubbo asks, eyebrow raised.
Tommy still seems a little dead to the world, having probably overexerted himself, but he gets up with a groan and says, “Mine. It’s messy and shit, but whatever.” He pauses. “Actually. Let me go and make sure that my endless amounts of cash and sheer wealth are not laying around the room. Life is just so, so hard for me, you know?”
Tubbo waves him off. “Call us whenever.”
“Have fun doing…” Tommy does a vague hand gesture before racing up the stairs. After a second or two, Tubbo can hear something hitting a wall, and Tommy crying out, “ Fuck, that hurt! Jesus!”
Ranboo winces sympathetically, and Tubbo shifts to look at him. “How’re you holding up?” he asks.
“... Better than Tommy, I’d- I’d say,” Ranboo jokes.
“He’s so uncoordinated, honestly. I’m surprised he’s lived this long.”
“Well, I’m definitely- definitely glad he did, uh.”
Tubbo snorts. “Try living with him.” After a beat of silence, he clarifies, “That’s a joke. I am also glad that Tommy is alive, unfortunately.”
“Okay,” Ranboo affirms, nodding. “Yep. Living is cool. Living is very cool.”
“You are very cool,” Tubbo counters.
Ranboo flushes a little. “Uh. Thanks?”
“Yup.”
The two of them stare at each other for a second, long enough for it to get sort of awkward, until another loud sound comes from upstairs and Tommy shouts, at the top of his lungs, “ Tubbo !”
“Coming!” Tubbo yells back, standing up and offering Ranboo a hand to pull him off the couch.
He lets Ranboo go up the stairs first, following behind, and points to where Tommy’s room is located. The second they both step in there and Tubbo takes in the absolute mess the room is in, he takes a deep breath and says, “How the fuck do you even manage this?”
“Listen,” Tommy starts to argue, “I am just so organized. You simply don’t understand me.”
There are t-shirts on the floor, the trashcan is overflowing, and the desk is such a mess (though, Tubbo knows that Tommy studies in the living room, in Tubbo’s room, or just on his bed, so, fair enough). The posters on his walls threaten to fall off more and more every day, and the bed isn’t made. Which, eh, Tubbo can defend, considering that some mornings mans just does not want to make his bed. Regardless, Tubbo just nods and says, “You’re right. It’s just so beyond me.”
“So true.” Peeling back his bedspread so the three of them can sit on it, Tommy moves to be cross-legged with his back facing the door and pats the mattress. “What are you two feeling right now? Tell me your feelings. I am a licensed clinical therapist. What is the worst thing that has ever happened to you? Ranboo, when do you have to go home?”
Ranboo blinks, seemingly taken aback by the stream of thought– he’s already been exposed to this before, ever since he first met Tommy, it just always gets you for the first year or so– but eventually sits down against the headboard, knees to his chest, and replies, “Uh, I don’t have a curfew or anything. I have to get to work, uh, tomorrow. Aside from that, Niki doesn’t really care as long as I, uh, let her know?”
“Stay the night, then?” Tubbo suggests, though he knows it’s a shot in the dark. Ranboo has work and all that.
Expectedly, Ranboo shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to, uh, bother you guys like that-”
“Nah, man, you’re good!” Tommy says enthusiastically, “We don’t mind, really-”
“-and I sort of have to go to work, so, uh, no,” Ranboo finishes, quieter than he started.
Tommy huffs. “Kill yourself?”
“... No?”
“Fairs. Tubbo, sit down. We are going to chat.”
“What are we, uh.” Ranboo pauses, chews his lip. Continues. “What are we talking about?”
“Let us play a game,” Tommy proposes. “Two Truths and One Lie-”
“Oh shit, me and Ranboo are terrible at this,” Tubbo interjects.
“Let’s go?” Tommy grins. “I am about to win this. Okay. I will go first.”
As Tommy sits thinking about what his facts are going to be, Tubbo allows his mind to slightly drift. He remembers playing this with Ranboo, the first time he’d ever been over to his place and the second time they'd fully hung out outside of school together. It was difficult, trying to come up with information that wasn’t way too heavy or anything– and Tubbo did kind of fuck that up, but, oh well– but it seems like Ranboo sort of had a similar problem?
Regardless, it was nice. It was a good way to get to know him. And… it was just a nice night overall, watching a movie with Ranboo, resting his head on his shoulder (for God’s sake, Tubbo is clingy. Ranboo must have not remembered that part, though, or something, because he seemed way more surprised when Tubbo did it in class later on).
Now, Tubbo knows a little more about Ranboo, so it’ll probably be easier to figure it out, and he won’t fuck it up by saying that his natural hair color is blonde again (his eyelashes are dark as hell, Tubbo doesn’t know how he made that mistake at the time). Even if he has issues with Ranboo, though, Tubbo at least knows Tommy like the back of his hand, and Tommy is not the best liar in situations like these.
Or really in general. Tommy’s only a good liar when Tubbo and him are trying to keep something real secretive, or if Tommy has serious reasons to hide something from someone. Which has only happened once or twice, and that is far too many counts of that.
“Alright, I have mine. Ahem. A girl once told me I have nice eyes,” Tommy pauses for dramatic emphasis, looking between Tubbo and Ranboo as if he is expecting them to be shocked or impressed. After realizing that both of them are pretty neutral about this, he huffs out a sigh and says, “... Anyway. Two, Techno told me I croquet ‘okay’ sweaters, and three, I broke my wrist in a fist fight when I was ten.”
“Okay, that is such bullshit,” Tubbo immediately says. “There is no way you got into a fistfight.”
Tommy frowns. “I have, actually.”
“That’s the lie. I’ll bet on it,” Tubbo doubles down, because Tommy threatens to fight people a lot, but definitely has not actually done it before. “Ranboo, your guess?”
“Uh,” Ranboo stalls, seeming like he’s concentrating heavily. “Just as, uh, insurance, I’ll answer differently, so, uh. Two? Two is the lie, yeah.”
“Neither of you said one,” Tommy points out.
Ranboo shrugs. “I mean, you do have nice eyes?”
“Oh, fuck off Ranboo and your serial flirting-”
“I have never flirted before in my life, actually-”
“Anyway,” Tommy cuts him off, “Three is the lie.”
“I fucking knew it.” Suck his dick, Tommy. Tubbo wins these.
Tommy shakes his head. “ But, I have been in a fight before. I just didn’t break my wrist nor did it happen when I was ten. But I did break my wrist when I was ten.”
Ranboo blinks. “... What?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Wait.” Tubbo suddenly remembers something. “Tommy, is this- is this the dog thing?”
Tommy looks ashamed for a second. “... Yeah.”
“Oh my God,” Tubbo struggles to say between his own laughter, contagious enough that Tommy is laughing too, despite the circumstance, “I completely forgot about that, holy shit.”
“Can I ask what the dog story is?” Ranboo asks.
“Some things are better left unsaid-” Tommy tries to argue, but Tubbo beats him to it and starts explaining.
“When Tommy was a kid- ten, I guess- he got- he got knocked over by Henry, and he- I feel light-headed, oh God- ”
“It’s not that funny, you dickhead!” Tommy says, but he’s wheezing too. Hypocritical asshole. Tubbo’s seeing shrimp colors.
“Wait.” Ranboo furrows his eyebrows. “Tommy, you- you tripped on your own dog and broke your- you broke your wrist tripping on your own dog?” Ranboo only receives a nod from Tommy, and Ranboo breaks out into a smile, somewhat incredulous. “ How? How do- how do you trip over a dog? ”
“I didn’t see him!” Tommy weakly defends. “I was like a kid, man, I didn’t- how was I meant to know that Henry was going to be there?”
Ranboo’s voice jumps up a pitch, “Do you not have peripheral vision?”
“You say long words, but they cannot hurt me, bitch!”
“Oh God, okay, I’m okay now.” Tubbo takes a deep breath, left hand on the mattress to stabilize himself. “God. I wish I could have seen it.”
Tommy wrinkles his nose. “I think Wil was the only one home. Which was terrible, because he bullied me. He literally- he literally laughed at me instead of helping me. Then he saw the broken wrist and got all concerned but- but it just felt so fake. He was not in his brotherly arc.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Tubbo says sympathetically.
“Would you have done that to me, Tubbo?”
“Honestly, I would have reacted the same way, yeah.”
Tommy snorts, shoving Tubbo over. “Fuck you, man! Your turn for the two truths and whatever.”
“Shit, okay.”
“Not so easy, is it?”
“Fuck you and go die,” Tubbo replies easily. “Okay. Uh. When I was a kid-”
“Oh, he’s already going,” Ranboo says quietly.
“-when I was a kid, I had, like, more reddish hair than brown, really? Uh, butterflies were my favorite animal for like a year or so, I thought they were really cool. And three, I accidentally broke a glow stick once and cried about it for a few hours.”
“Me and Eryn were there for the last one, weren’t we?” Tommy asks.
“Yeah, this was like, two years ago,” Tubbo admits. It had been a neon blue glow stick, too, so that really sucked. Tubbo was scared he was going to die because of it the entire time. That was before he got really into chemistry and stuff like that and realized that if glow sticks could give someone radiation poisoning, they probably wouldn’t have been sold at half price during a school event. But y’know, hindsight. Tubbo was freaked out back then, and that’s fair enough.
Ranboo shifts forward to look at Tubbo, as if there’s going to be any indication of the lie he’s telling if he stares directly at his right eyebrow long enough. Tubbo reciprocates and stares back at his left eyebrow, but Tommy gives him a weird look and Tubbo can concede to that being a weird series of interactions.
“I’ve never seen any baby photos of you, so the first one could stand as being right or wrong,” Tommy thinks aloud. “On the other hand, you’re someone who would fuck with the specific details of something-”
“Oh yeah, that’s true, that’s true,” Ranboo agrees.
“So I reckon it could be something with number two. But, it could also be a detail with number one, but probably less likely.”
Ranboo nods. “So, two is the lie?”
“Two is the lie. Final answer.”
Tubbo sighs. “Fuck both of you.”
“Let’s fucking go!” Tommy raises his hand to give Ranboo a high five, and Ranboo grins happily in response. “What was the detail or whatever?”
“Favorite insect,” Tubbo explains, “not favorite animal.”
“Oh, you sick bastard.”
Tubbo sighs again, but gives Tommy a high five too, since he’s offering it for some reason. “I forget how well you know me. All my tricks are ruined. My career of scamming is in shambles.”
“Why don’t we scam together?” Tommy proposes instead. “The three of us can be the Scamming Trio. Tubbo does all the lying, I do all the stealing, and Ranboo does the communications.”
“I am not the person who you want doing communications, I assure you,” Ranboo argues. “I, uh, really suck at speaking, just, in general.”
“I reckon you’ve done fine at it,” Tommy replies. “You’re a good man, Ranboo. You are also a big man, which frankly makes me feel a little threatened.”
“I’m, uh, I’m sorry?”
“You should be, Ranboo. You have made an enemy on this day.”
“Aw, really?” Ranboo pouts. “We were doing so well! C’mon, man!”
Tommy dramatically sighs. “Fine. You can rejoin the Scamming Trio.”
“Did you kick me out of the Scamming Trio before?” Ranboo asks. “We didn’t even ask Tubbo!”
“Oh, I’m just enjoying watching this crash and burn,” Tubbo says honestly.
Well, excluding the crash and burn bit, but genuinely. It’s nice seeing two of the people that Tubbo cares about most– because honestly, it sort of goes without saying that Tubbo is close enough to Ranboo that he’s become one of the most important people to him– interacting and bantering and everything. It doesn’t even feel like he’s being excluded or anything, it’s just nice. It’s nice seeing Tommy all relaxed and everything, and Ranboo smiling.
Maybe Tubbo should tell them that.
Not that- well, honestly, Tommy would probably appreciate it, but he might make fun of Tubbo for it, because that’s how they are. One of them gets sentimental, the other laughs at them, and then they hug and whatever. It’s how that’s always been for them.
Ranboo… Ranboo would appreciate it, Tubbo thinks. Especially because, in Tubbo’s personal opinion, Ranboo could do with being told how cool he is more. Because he’s really cool, like, he’s sweet and funny and understanding and everything. And he has a pretty smile and whatnot. All the shit that he probably deserves to hear, but Tubbo would struggle to say.
It’s just nice being around the two of them. And Tubbo sort of hopes they know that, because he’s not going to put himself out there and embarrass himself by saying something like you two make me really happy, because that would be a lot, right now. And the mood is light and everything.
But Tubbo hopes they know how much he cares about them. Even if it will probably take more effort to show that to Ranboo. Even if Tubbo’s still not sure Tommy knows people care about him at all.
But of course, this line of thought started with Tommy and Ranboo bickering, smiling and everything. And Tubbo had opened his mouth just to say that he enjoyed watching them crash and burn, exempt from that crashing and burning bit.
So when Tommy opens his mouth to presumably tell Ranboo it’s his turn, only to be cut off by the bedroom door being abruptly opened, it’s a sign of the universe doing what it’s meant to do. Showing Tubbo what being at ease feels like with his best friends, and immediately taking it away.
The person at the door is Wilbur, which is already kind of strange, considering that Tubbo hasn’t seen Wilbur around much since the whole breakup with Quackity. He still lives with them, obviously, but usually they just barely miss him at meal times and he works overtime at work. And today, he had spent his day all holed up in his room. Tubbo doesn’t even know if he knew Ranboo was over.
More alarmingly is the circumstance itself. Wilbur’s breathing is fast, most likely from running over, and he smells like smoke (Tubbo’s bedroom isn’t the only one with a window). He’s holding a phone to his ear, and his brown eyes are making dead eye contact with Tubbo.
Tubbo’s standing up before he realizes it. “What is it?”
In his head, he’s asking who is it? and he knows that Wilbur realizes that.
“Quackity has been calling you,” Wilbur says, voice even. Tubbo can appreciate it— the lack of outward panic, the ability to keep cool.
“Big Q?” Tommy asks, anxiety clear in his voice. Beside him, Ranboo seems nervous, too, and it’s such a contrast from the passiveness of Wilbur that it makes Tubbo grateful, almost, that they don’t know what brings a person to pure calm. “What does he want?”
Tubbo can’t answer that question, even if he’s the one who should. The only one who could ever have the answer. “My phone is dead,” he tells Wilbur. “Your phone, can I?”
“Take it, go in the hallway.” And then Wilbur’s shoving the phone in his hands, Quackity still on the line, and Tubbo is rushing out of the room.
Just before Tubbo shuts the door, he hears Tommy asking, more force behind his voice, “What the fuck is going on?”
Wilbur’s response is lost to Tubbo as he moves the phone to his ear, cutting through the stuttered breathing noises on the other line as he calls out, “Quackity?”
“Tubbo!” Quackity sounds both relieved and angry. At the very least, years of knowing Quackity tell Tubbo that it’s not frustration meant for him. “What happened to your phone? I’ve been calling but you weren’t answering!”
“It died,” Tubbo admits bluntly, talking over the sound Quackity makes in response. “Listen, what's going on? Clearly, it’s important.”
“Well yeah, it’s fucking important! It’s…” Quackity trails off.
Tubbo starts pacing across the hallway, waiting the agitating minute it takes Quackity to compose himself and say, “Tubbo, I’m sorry. I fucked up. I- I really fucked up, man.”
“It’s fine, I forgive you, just tell me what’s wrong. ” Tubbo’s voice gets higher. His hands are shaking.
Quackity takes another deep breath, and Tubbo hears a sound in the background. It sounds like talking, but whatever it is, it makes Quackity scramble to say something. Tubbo pieces together far too quickly by the way Quackity says, “I called ten fucking minutes ago, how far are they?”
It’s a sound Tubbo remembers from childhood.
Quackity always takes a certain tone of voice when he’s calling 911.
“It’s Schlatt,” Tubbo says with a sinking feeling as Quackity falls quiet again. Tubbo feels like throwing up. “What did he do?”
“It’s not- he didn’t do anything,” Quackity’s voice is shaking.
Tubbo shakes his head. “Quackity, surely you’re not calling the police on yourself.”
“It’s Schlatt,” Quackity confesses, “but it’s not what you’re thinking. He didn’t- he-“
“Quackity, for fuck’s sake, just say it!” Tubbo shouts. He hears a thud, and he can’t tell if it’s the dispatchers at Schlatt’s doorstep or Tommy trying to leave his room. Silently, Tubbo thanks Wilbur, because he knows Wilbur won’t let his best friends out until Tubbo hears what he has to hear. Even if Wilbur is terrified.
Quackity sucks in another breath, and he tells the police on the other (Schlatt’s?) phone, “Tell them to hurry the fuck up! I’m sitting here with a- with him, it’s been ten minutes. I- one second, I need to talk to my brother- Tubbo, listen to me. Are you still there?”
“I’m right here,” and oh God, Quackity hasn’t sounded this scared before, even when it was at its worst, but Tubbo has to stay calm, he has to stay calm, everything is going to be fine - “Talk to me. I can take it, it’s fine , I’m fine, just say it!”
“ He’s dead! ” Quackity is screaming, screaming to Tubbo and the police, and Tommy is opening the door at the end of the hall. “Schlatt’s dead, Tubbo, he’s dead, he’s gone! God, can you get here any faster, my boyfriend is dead! He’s fucking rotting, I- Tubbo, Tubbo, are you with me, are you- is that you? Tubbo, say something, I- oh God, J’s dead, I-”
And suddenly, Tubbo can’t hear anything aside from
the ambulance sirens halfway across town,
Wilbur holding Tommy back from running out of the room,
and the exact second that Tubbo’s heart,
his blood, his blood -
stops.