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“Are you excited, bud?” Tubbo asked, sitting beside the high chair that currently held a wriggling piglin toddler, messily eating sweetberries so his mouth was turning blood-red from the more juicier pieces Tubbo and Ranboo had managed to pick a couple days ago.
“Aah! Aah!” The toddler enthusiastically nodded his head, berry juice dripping down his chin.
Tubbo chuckled and reached over with a cloth, catching the dripping juice before it stained his shirt. He really needed a, what were they called, a bib to keep his son’s clothes relatively stain-free during meals, but that would be a problem for future-Tubbo. Michael was almost finished eating anyway.
“What are you excited for, huh?” He asked softly, firmly wiping the dripping sweetberry juices from his son’s face while Michael made a displeased expression over being wiped clean. “Excited to see… Uncle Tommy?”
“Och Som!” Michael was still learning to speak Common. He was a quick learner, but he still spoke with a thick Piglish accent, the words he spoke were mainly the strangest mix of Common and Piglish. “Och Som reesum?!”
“He’s coming too, yeah!” Tubbo chuckled, happy he too was learning to understand his son’s strange new language - he held it over Ranboo’s head, who still struggled to understand what Michael said at times, then again, Ranboo didn’t live with the two to actually get to learn their son’s language - and he brushed Michael’s hair out of his face. “Uncle Tommy, Da, me, and you, Michael. Sounds fun, yeah?”
“Aah! Aah!” He nodded, smashing the last few berries into his mouth and practically sprayed juice when he munched on his breakfast, hitting Tubbo on the face. And he had been doing so good staying out of the splash zone.
Michael cracked up as Tubbo sighed in resignation and wiped the juice from his own face, making a disappointed expression to his son.
“This is why we eat with our mouth closed, Michael,” he said firmly, gently pulling his son’s lips together as he continued to munch away while giggling. “Chew with your mouth closed, Michael.”
With Tubbo still holding Michael’s lips together, his son tried to answer, giving a very understanding nod and sounded like he was repeating the rule. Tubbo couldn’t stop the fond eye-roll and he shifted forward to kiss his son’s temple gently.
“Cheeky little rascal, aren’t you?” He muttered, before both piglin and teen heard the stairs to the porch creak and heavy breathing from the other side of the door, both father and son’s ears flicking to the front door. “Oh, who could that be?”
Michael answered the exact time the door was knocked - pounded, he really never learned to knock like a sane person - with a shouting cry of Tubbo’s name.
“Som!” “Tubbo!”
“Oh for the love of…” Tubbo rolled his eyes and stood up to open the door to see Tommy, his cheeks rosy from the cold weather of Snowchester while he wore only the woolen jumper he made from several shearing of Friend’s wool, before Skeppy killed the poor sheep - Tubbo hoped Ghostbur had Friend wherever he was - a few months ago.
“Hello, Tubbo!” Tommy shouted, as if it wasn’t a single hour after first light. “Ready to fucking go?”
“Och Som! Och Som! Reesum Da uk Pa ak Foosh?” Michael cried from his high chair, unable to escape from it - Tubbo had made certain he couldn’t, worried his son could hurt himself if he wasn’t helped down from his chair and thus made it impossible for a little toddler to wiggle it enough to topple it and he couldn’t just slip his legs out of the leg-holes. He still made grabby hands towards his uncle, and Tommy was quick to side-step the shorter teen and pick up his little nephew.
“Little big man! God, you’re getting big! Look at you!” Tommy enthused, just a little forced for Tubbo’s son, but not actually all that forced to excite the piglin. “What have you been feeding him, Tubs?”
Tubbo rolled his eyes and walked over to take his son from his best friend. “What he needs to eat to get all big and strong. He had some sweetberries before you got here.”
“Ah, so that’s why it looks like dried blood on your face,” Tommy cackled and put a hand out to Michael, who by now knew exactly what his uncle wanted, and the two high-fived. “Nice job, little man.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll put you on diaper duty if you aren’t fucking careful, Tommy,” he threatened, and Tommy knew just how likely he was to dish out his punishments. Tubbo smiled pleasantly at Tommy snapping his mouth shut and bringing his hands back to himself.
Michael giggled at the teens.
“Now, where is your no-good Da, huh, Michael?” Tubbo questioned, squishing his son closer to him and causing Michael to shriek with laughter, shaking his head in answer.
“Oh, I know where boobman went. He said he’d meet up at Foolish’s place,” Tommy answered, smirking with knowing. Instantly Tubbo narrowed his eyes, knowing his husband and best friend were conspiring against him over… something.
“Why?” He asked cautiously.
“For the love of Prime, he wants to surprise you. I’m not telling you shit,” Tommy shook his head.
“Shi-t! Shi-t!” Michael repeated, and suddenly Tubbo remembered he was supposed to watch their language around him and groaned. Tommy, meanwhile, doubled over in cackles.
“Good job! Remember to say that around your huge dad, yeah?” Tommy encouraged.
“No! Michael, do not!” Tubbo discouraged quickly. “Tommy, you are so getting diaper duty if he says a single peep of the like to Ranboo!”
“Noo! Come on, it’ll be funny!”
“It is, but you don’t have to deal with Ranboo afterwards!” Tubbo countered, turning around as he found it would be a good time to bundle Michael and himself up for the trek out of Snowchester. “I swear, Tommy, you’re going to be the cause of our next divorce.”
“How dare you, Tubbo. I am no homewrecker,” Tommy said dramatically, putting a hand to his chest as if scandalized by the accusation.
Tubbo simply scoffed and bundled his son up nice and securely, gently pulling Michael’s hands away from the clasps to remind him not to take it off until either he or Ranboo said it was time.
“Okay, let’s get going,” he announced as he slipped on his boots and picked Michael up. It was going to be easier to carry the toddler than allow him to run around, especially if he was going to tucker himself out playing with Junior and Finley - he wasn’t sure if Finley would be there, Tubbo wasn’t sure if the baby would want to play with two big toddlers almost twice her age now - so Tubbo would have sore arms keeping his son contained until they got to their destination.
Tommy locked the door as the three left the little cabin, momentarily ignoring the giant mansion Ranboo and Tubbo still haven’t properly moved into - every time they had the thought of moving things in, something came up and they would be free again at the dead of night and were already exhausted from the events of the day and… - and heading out of Snowchester.
It was a lovely day. The sun was shining, warm and bright, even on constantly wintry Snowchester. Tubbo had a feeling the snow could be perfect for snowballs, but that would be for another day, one where he wasn’t holding his son in his arms. He did enjoy the warmth over his face.
“Why does Ranboo want to surprise me? And why did he tell you?” Tubbo questioned as they reached the mainland, cutting through the unkempt grass rather than walking on the Prime Path to get to the community Portal. “You’re horrible at keeping secrets.”
“I am fucking not!”
“No swearing! Not in front of Michael!” Tubbo suddenly felt like BadBoyHalo with his ‘language’ and wondered if that was a good thing or not. He wondered if Bad was a dad.
“Oh shut it, it’s too late,” Tommy rolled his eyes, immediately tripping on a rock. “Fuck!”
Tubbo sighed heavily and shook his head while Michael cackled at Tommy falling. Tommy scrambled back to his feet and they were off again.
“Anyway, I am not bad at keeping secrets, thank you very much. And it’s because I passed Ranboo getting what he needed and he made me promise that I wouldn’t spoil it.”
“Oh? What was he getting?” Tubbo asked innocently, hoping to trick his best friend to spoil it.
“Just s-Nope! Nope! Not telling you a single thing, bastard,” Tommy glared at Tubbo before huffing and heading through the portal before he could say anything else, muttering under his breath.
“Well, I tried, Michael,” Tubbo shrugged, and Michael copied the action exaggeratedly. “Guess we’ll just have to be surprised, huh?”
“Aah,” he nodded wisely, his hair falling into his face similar to Tubbo’s bangs.
“Yeah, yep,” Tubbo nodded in agreement as he and Michael made their way through the portal.
As soon as they were through, Tubbo and Michael had to pause to shed a couple layers, Tubbo tucking them into his inventory, before he picked his son back up and they caught up to Tommy to head to Foolish’s Summer Home portal, following the path to it.
Like every time they went through the portal to head somewhere else - a total of four times including this journey - Michael was attentive to everything around them, pointing to far off adult zombie piglins, or even farther away non-zombified piglins casually walking around the netherrack, always pointing back to himself and looking at Tubbo as if to say “they are me! Look dad, more of me!”
Tubbo smiled softly and ruffled Michael’s hair. “Yeah, bud, they look like you,” he hiked his son back up, feeling him beginning to slip. “We can’t talk to them right now, though. Maybe another time.”
Knowing how the zombie piglins and the regular piglins were like, Tubbo was of the opinion to wait until Michael was in the double digits to ensure he’d be okay. Tommy and maybe even Ranboo would say he was being ridiculous, but the thought of Michael even scraping his knee on the Nether Roof made him too nervous to even let go of his son as they reached the portal to the desert where Foolish lived with his little animated - and growing, Tubbo had been astounded to see Junior was no longer the size of a Totem of Undying but of a normal toddler - children, the three squinting at the sudden blast of scorching sun reflecting off the pale sand the same it would reflect over the snow on the ground in Snowchester.
“Ahh, nice,” Tommy stretched almost like a cat but vertically and hummed as he turned his face to the sun. “A good day.”
“Goo ree-ay!” Michael copied, snorting happily.
“Yeah, yeah, c’mon, let’s see Foolish and his kids. Junior must be really excited to see you again, Michael. It’s been a while, huh?” Tubbo poked at Michael’s cheek, who giggled and waved his hands excitedly.
“And your stupid husband. I think he’s here already too,” Tommy teased with a dramatic eye-roll.
“Right, of course, my stupid husband, stupid love of my life,” Tubbo laughed and made his way to the giant statues in the near distance.
“Tubbo! Tommy! Little Mikey!” Foolish greeted as he hurried down the large steps that the teens were just about to start climbing up. “Welcome, welcome! It’s good to see you all so soon, Junior’s been antsy for hours, I could barely get him to take his nap before you got here.”
“Foosh! Och Som reesum Pa uk me!” Michael gesticulated to emphasize his points, and Foolish never knew what the piglin was trying to say but nodded enthusiastically.
“Oh really? That’s amazing, little man!” He gushed and once he was within reach, he reached out to take Michael from Tubbo, who allowed it after a second or two to remind his little paranoid mind that Foolish was trusted. Foolish was one of the few trusted to handle his son. Even Tommy didn’t have the full trust that he wouldn’t drop Michael - he was working on it, Tubbo knew Tommy knew how important it was to be able to take Michael from him without fighting it. “C’mon, let’s tell Junior about your adventures!”
“Hey, where’s Ranboo?” Tubbo interrupted before Foolish could disappear to his own son’s room where the toddlers would be spending most of their playtime in.
“In the living area! Come on, it’s on the way to Junior’s room.”
“Do you know what he’s doing?”
“Nope! Said it was a secret so I closed my eyes,” Foolish chirped happily, and Tubbo shut his eyes in minor despair. He wanted to know what the hell Ranboo wanted to surprise him with, but he guessed he was just going to have to take the surprise as it came.
“You are no help at all.”
“Sorry, not sorry!” Foolish replied with a light laugh.
They made their way through Foolish’s home, which was more of a palace of strange sorts. Large, open areas, even larger than some of the rooms in the mansion in Snowchester. Gold, emeralds, iron, so many precious metals made up the decorations that made Tubbo minorly envious how he had so much, but he knew it was more aesthetic than hoarding and lording his wealth around - unlike a certain husband he knows when the time suits him - so he never actively attempted to steal from his friend.
Maybe if he ever got desperate enough. But not for a while still.
As they walked, Michael and Foolish had a nonsensical conversation, and Tommy simply looked around with interest at all the new things he may have missed in previous trips. There was always something new to look at around the godling’s home. Tubbo heard sounds ahead of them, and his ears twitched the same time Michael’s did.
“Da!” He exclaimed as they reached a smaller - it was still huge, but it was much smaller than most of the open rooms they had previously passed through - room that looked to have a lot of comfortable pillows, blankets, couches, cushions, everything scattered around the room, with a Ranboo sitting back comfortably at one corner. He had a basket beside him, but that was the only thing out of the ordinary around the half-enderman teen.
“Michael! Heya, little guy!” Ranboo opened his arms, and Michael wriggled out of Foolish’s grip to sprint over to his other father and tackled him into a hug, speaking much too fast to even make sense what he was trying to say. “Yes, yes, hello, I’m happy to see you too, Michael!”
A small burst of particles popped out from behind Ranboo’s head to spin around Michael, causing him to giggle and swat at them.
“Mi! Mi-al!” Another toddler voice exclaimed as Foolish Junior made his appearance, golden skin shiny in the light, and he wore light red-pink robes that ended at his knees so he wouldn’t trip on his clothes.
Father forgotten, Michael jumped up, stomping on Ranboo judging by the groan of pain as Michael scampered away to hug his own best friend - well, he was his only friend for now, and if Michael and Foolish Junior were like any friendship, Tubbo hoped it would be like his and Tommy’s friendship, friends forever no matter the hardships - the two speaking in the language of toddlers that only they understood, before Junior took Michael away to his room. Something about blocks and towers, if Tubbo understood the strange language at all.
“So, what have you been keeping from me? Is it divorce-worthy? Because I want a divorce because Foolish and Tommy wouldn’t tell me a single thing,” Tubbo crossed his arms, pretending to be serious, but no one - except Foolish, who gave a protest - believed him.
Tommy took Foolish and led him to his son’s room, and Tubbo barely heard “babysitter duty while they be gross and domestic” from his best friend, before Ranboo gestured for him to approach him, pulling the basket in front of him.
“Well, they did a good job, then. You deserve to be surprised with something nice once in a while,” Ranboo chuckled, pulling Tubbo down to sit on some cushions nearby once the smaller teen was within his - unfairly, stupidly long - reach.
“You know I hate surprises…” Tubbo pouted, though he had very good reasoning to dislike surprises. When he didn’t know everything that was going to happen, the majority of the time, Tubbo got another scar to add to the collection on his body.
“I know, I know, but this is a nice surprise! I promise, you’ll like it!” Ranboo pressed, keeping one hand encasing one of Tubbo’s comfortingly. “It’s all in the basket.”
Tubbo narrowed his eyes at Ranboo before he leaned forward to look at the basket. Pulling his hand out of Ranboo’s, he took the basket and gave it a little shake, hearing some rustling. No clanking or clattering of metal, which was a good sign, so he opened the top of the basket to peer inside.
The very first thing, at the very top, was a small bouquet of pink tulips, Tubbo’s favourite flowers for the colour pigment if he needed to dye something a soft colour, as well as the scent, which he normally kept around Michael’s room to drown out the smell of chicken. A dozen tulips, just beginning to bloom.
“Oh, Ranboo,” he cooed softly.
“It was really hard to find blooming tulips, I had to grab several bunches of bonemeal before I got even half a dozen,” Ranboo chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed in that strange way his skin makes it, with red on the white skin, and violet on the blacker than pitch skin. It was endearing.
“Thank you, I love them,” Tubbo pulled them out of the basket, closing his eyes to take a deep breath of the scent with a small smile.
“That’s not all, keep looking!” Ranboo urged, still blushing but he was doing better than a couple seconds before.
“Okay, okay, pushy pushy, bossman,” he rolled his eyes as he put the bouquet off to the side, where neither could accidentally crush the stems or the lovely and delicate petals, and brought the basket close to see what was inside, eyes widening as a smile came over him.
He knew Niki’s baking anywhere, and her fancy little doodles when she took up decorating her mouth-watering creations. Mini cupcakes in small boxes, with shades of green frosting on top of each one, a few slices of banana bread, the scent wafting up from the basket, and over a dozen cookies with little pink and red hearts iced onto the cookies. They were all some of Tubbo’s favourite treats Niki used to make in L’Manburg, although the designs were different from back then. It looked like she had improved upon the amazing treats, which Tubbo was not complaining about.
“I just told Niki to give me some of your favourite desserts. She said to tell you to visit her sometime,” Ranboo said as Tubbo pulled out a cupcake, licking up the frosting first before he took the wrapper off the cake part and popping it into his mouth with a sound very close to a moan of satisfaction. “Guessing you like that part too?”
Tubbo only moaned in answer. It had been so long since he had had a Niki treat.
“Don’t get distracted, there’s still a couple things at the bottom now,” Ranboo said, helping Tubbo pull the treats out, popping a cookie or two into his mouth as well with a cheeky smile, his eyelid-less eyes squinting in amusement when Tubbo pouted.
Underneath the treats were a couple of things, exactly as Ranboo said. A few pieces of papers, blank sides up to not get ruined by the treats that rested upon them. There was also a journal under the papers, and that was it, so Tubbo pulled the journal and the papers with it, putting them in his lap. He looked at Ranboo quizzically.
“Aren’t you the one who needs the journals, memory boy?” Tubbo questioned with a teasing tone, smirking at Ranboo’s pout.
“You’ll like it. Go on, look through it.”
“Hang on, hang on, loser,” Tubbo flipped the papers over, and his heart melted. Half the pages were done by Michael’s toddler hand, while the other half were done by - admittedly equally shaky, but a lot more steady than a toddler’s hand - Ranboo’s sketchy hand.
Ranboo was not a great artist, but he was improving since Tubbo had last seen him attempt to draw something. He was more of a landscape artist, but here were actions shots of Tubbo dancing with Michael, reading to him in bed, and one that looked to be a first-person drawing, sketchy and with several scribbled-out mistakes, of Tubbo from the shoulders-up, with a large hand cupping his cheek and Tubbo was tilting his head into the hand with a surprised but content expression.
Michael’s, of course, were those of a toddler still learning to steady his hand. Stick figures of various colours with initials of who was who, with what looked like a new one to be more than stick figures. An attempt at drawing Tubbo in his vest and jacket, his hood up to protect the back of his neck and his head from the cold outside, Ranboo in his suit, and little Michael in his favourite overalls, the ones with the big bee on the front.
Tubbo’s poor little heart couldn’t melt any more, but boy did it try, as he felt tears threaten to break through.
“Oh,” he whispered, throat closing as the euphoria he felt went unmatched. It was so much.
Carefully putting the journal he still hadn’t yet looked into and the papers to the side, Tubbo launched himself at Ranboo, wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck, and kissing him full on the lips as the urge to show his affection and love overwhelmed him. Ranboo huffed in surprise but reciprocated the kiss, wrapping his gangly arms around his husband’s waist.
He pulled away after a couple seconds with a warm smile. “So, I take it you liked this surprise?”
Tubbo laughed wetly, the urge to cry still very high but he didn’t want to accidentally hurt Ranboo with his tears when he was so happy. “Thank you, thank you. I love th-em,” his voice cracked several times.
“You deserve good surprises, Tubbo. Glad you liked it,” Ranboo said with a warm chuckle. “But you still need to check out the journal, you’ll like that. The best for last, and all that, you know?”
If the drawings weren’t the best part of the surprises in the basket, Tubbo wasn’t sure if he could keep the tears to himself. He took a while to calm himself down before he pulled away to grab the journal, flipping it around to show the cover.
It took a couple seconds to read the script, it was a little too fancy for his dyslexia, but still relatively legible.
Underscore-Beloved Family Album
“You didn’t,” Tubbo breathed as he carefully opened the book, noting the spine had already been long since cracked open.
“It’s not too hard to read, right?” Ranboo asked, sounding nervous. “I wanted it to look cool, but also readable for you.”
“A, a little difficult. Too many loopy bits,” he gestured to the first page with a lot of reading, or at least it looked like a lot. “But, if it’s your handwriting, I should be okay.”
It was pretty okay to read, though at times Tubbo had to skip the loopy words that were giving him a headache trying to decipher, but he eventually got the gist. The journal was a photo album, with long paragraphs of memories of his, Ranboo’s, and Michael’s life since they saved Michael. From the very first photo Ranboo took of Michael, in the little crib Tubbo had made before realizing they needed a bed for him to sleep, his working eye closed and snout under the blanket as Tubbo’s arm reached down to graze a knuckle against Michael’s exposed cheekbone, to a photo from when Tubbo had not been home, of a selfie of Ranboo and Michael making goofy faces at the camera, easily a couple moments before they would have broken into raucous laughter.
“Bo. Bo, you’re crying,” a concerned Ranboo voiced, and Tubbo jumped, swiping at his eyes with a deliberate sniff.
“Sorry! Sorry, I’m good, I promise,” he hurriedly spoke. “I love it. I really, really love it, Ranboo.”
“Now we both can keep our memories here,” Ranboo said with a warm smile. “So neither of us ever, ever forgets any moment of his life.”
“Sentimental… bastard…” Tubbo muttered, but he loved the idea. Never forgetting a single moment of their son’s life, of their marriage, of all the happy memories that kept the bad thoughts at bay for late night insomnia. Already, he treasured every moment with his son so close to his heart, and the idea of writing it down so it would never really leave him even if he were to forget something later in life, was something he held dear.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome,” Ranboo laughed and pulled Tubbo close. “We still have a good half hour before I told Foolish we’d switch out with them for babysitting duty.”
“Good. Cuddles then, you made me cry,” Tubbo proposed with a pointed look, knowing his eyes were red and puffy from crying, even if they were happy tears.
“Of course, beloved,” Ranboo wrapped his arms around his husband again and pulled him close.