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The cure to all ails

Summary:

“Take the drugs.”

“Fuck off.”

“Take the drugs, Tubbo.”

“This is peer pressure, I won’t be coerced.”

“Fucks sake, man, just drink the fucking potion.”
(/blockquote>


Or, Tubbo gets sick, which is generally inconvenient to Tommy's life, but for his best friend, he'll find a way to manage.

Notes:

PROMPT: Sickfic with mild sickness
For: Kentropy

Hi ! It's me ! I promised i wouldn't be late posting again but here i am !!!!! Hope u enjoy

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

There was an air of peace to the early morning light, as the sun was just rising over the horizon.

 

This was a truly undisturbed time, where the creatures of the night had already started retreating but the daylight animals had not yet woken up. The world was still, quiet, the eerie mist of night giving way to the comfort of day slowly but surely, languid and calm. There was nothing that could disturb such a morning.

 

Except the sharp, grating sound of a rasping cough. That would certainly do it.

 

Tommy scowled, hands faltering midway through the motion of collecting eggs, one accidentally slipping from his hands and splatting wetly on the ground. He paid no mind to the downy chick that blinked up at him from the wreckage, instead stomping across the grass back into the house, barely stopping to put the collected goods into whichever chest was closest before barging into the nearby bedroom.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

A tired groan emanating from the lump of blankets on the bed was his only answer. Tommy scowled further.

 

He stalked forward, pulling the blankets back with both hands to unveil the body underneath. There in all his shivering glory was Tubbo, who made an unhappy noise, coughed, then blinked blearily at Tommy.

 

“‘S too early…” He whined out, curling into himself on the bed, shivering. Tommy narrowed his eyes dangerously.

 

“It’s five, and I’ve already been up for an hour doing chores, I’ll have you know.”

 

“That’s great, boss man.”

“I was enjoying my nice, peaceful morning with Henrietta and Gertrude, and you interrupted it with your loud as fuck coughing. It’s gross, y’know.”

“Sorry, boss man.” Tubbo rolled over, sounding wholly unapologetic. “Can I go back to sleep now?” 

 

“No? You need medicine, dumbass.”

“I’m fine,” Tubbo retorted, then promptly coughed like he was trying to eject a lung. Tommy looked down at him, unimpressed.

 

“Whenever you’re done.”

“Fuck you,” Tubbo wheezed back, collapsing against the headrest. “I’m fine. Give me ten, I’ll get up and get back to work.”

 

“No, no, no. You’re not doing shit, bitch.” Tommy pushed Tubbo back, throwing the blankets back over him in a heap from where they’d landed on the ground. “Your shitty disease is going to taint my wonderful farm. Then what? We’ll all be diseased and wifeless, Tubso.”

Tubbo blinked slowly at him. “Did you wake me up just to complain?”

And to make sure you weren't going to keel over. Fuck’s sake, man, you sound like death. I’ll heat up some soup.”

“I don’t need soup,” Tubbo bit back, managing to sound annoyed even through the rough scratch of his throat. Tommy ignored his protests, instead choosing to throw some water into the cauldron and forage through their meager supplies for ingredients. It wasn’t like he needed much for broth, though Tubbo wasn’t likely to complain about the makeup of the stock so much as he’d complain about having it made for him when he was capable of doing it himself, even if he very clearly wasn’t. Tubbo was a bitch like that, more stubborn than stone, if that stone happened to be bedrock encased in obsidian and trapped with explosives. It’d be easier to fight the Ender Dragon off with sticks than try to get Tubbo away from whatever work he’d decided was absolutely imperative for the day. Honestly, he couldn’t take one second to breathe, let alone look after himself. It was annoying.

 

With a huff, Tommy laid out the ingredients he’d managed to scrounge: a handful of mushrooms and some fresh milk would make for a good mushroom stew base. With any luck, he could stretch it to last a few days. While he cleaned and chopped the mushrooms, he heard Tubbo coughing from his room again.

 

“Still sure you don’t need drugs?” Tommy called over his shoulder.

 

Tubbo called something back- or attempted to, at least, but didn’t have enough voice to do much more than croak and cough again. Tommy rolled his eyes.

 

Idiot,”  he mumbled under his breath, sweeping the prepared ingredients into the pot and dusting his hands before propping open a hidden trapdoor and pulling out a small vial with glowing pink contents. With the potion bottle in hand, he stomped his way back to Tubbo’s room, smacking the bottle on the bedside table, not minding how Tubbo winced when the glass clinked aggressively.

 

“Take the drugs.”

“Fuck off.”

Take the drugs, Tubbo.”

“This is peer pressure, I won’t be coerced.”

Fucks sake, man, just drink the fucking potion.”

“Drugs don’t make you cool. Say no to drugs.”

“I will literally kill you.”

 

“Try it, ass, see what happens.”

Admittedly, even weakened by illness, Tommy didn’t particularly like his odds. Unfortunately, that had never stopped him from taking on a fight before, so he promptly launched himself straight at his downed friend.

 

Tommy, you fucking dick- get off-”  Tubbo wheezed, trying and failing to wriggle away from Tommy until they both eventually hit the floor. Tubbo collapsed bonelessly, breathing hard through clearly clogged sinuses.

 

“You’re such a dick.” He choked out, barely stifling a cough to do so. “You’re really going to tackle me while I’m sick?”

“So you admit you’re sick?” Tommy shot back, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

 

Tubbo groaned. “Fuck off. Fine, whatever, yes. Doesn’t mean I’m going to be wasting away in bed all day. We’re out of iron again, and we need more wood, and half the farms still need automating, and-”

“Tubbo,” Tommy interrupted, pitching his voice up to a squeaky whine he knew the other hated, “relax, will you? We’re not gonna die if none of that gets done today.”

“You don’t know that, someone might still be-”

“Tubbo,” his voice was firmer now, as he put his hands onto Tubbo’s shoulders, “We are safe. You are safe, okay? No one’s going to find us.”

Tubbo didn’t look particularly convinced, but he nodded anyway with a sniffle; from emotion or clogged airways, Tommy couldn’t be sure. He patted Tubbo’s shoulders awkwardly, helping him back up from the floor. ‘Nurturing’ wasn’t really in either of their natures, and Tommy was probably the last person anyone would want to go to for comfort. But for Tubbo, at least, he could make an effort.

 

“Okay, now drink the potion and get back in the bed. Honestly, man, you look like shit. And sound like shit too. Had me worried for a minute there.”

Tubbo snorted, a small grin creeping up his face. “Stop fuckin’ mothering me, it’s weird as hell.”

“Fine. Fine! Maybe I will stop. Maybe I’ll withhold all my motherly love from you. I’ll just leave you here with no medicine and no soup. Then what? Then you’ll be wishing I was Mother Innit with my tender and manly love.”

 

Tubbo laughed, before he was cut off by another coughing fit. “You’re so weird, man.” He managed when it passed.

 

“I’ll punt your ass to the Nether, bitch, don’t try me.”

“Sure, sure.” Tubbo burrowed himself under the blankets, only propping himself up enough to grab and uncork the potion bottle and take a drink from it . “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it.”

With Tubbo medicated, and soup still simmering, there wasn’t much to do but finish his morning chores and figure out what else had to be done that day. Despite his protests against Tubbo helping, there was a lot that needed to be done, and they had been steadily running out of resources for days. Going out on a collection mission made the most sense, then, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving Tubbo alone while he was sick. Even if he was certain there was no outside threat coming for them, he didn’t know what he’d do if Tubbo took a turn for the worse and he wasn’t there to help. But they did need supplies: that was their last potion, and while it seemed to be helping, he would almost certainly need more. It seemed there would be no other choice. He went to his own bedroom (the one Tubbo had built for him, complaining the whole time about how ugly it was and how it’d clash with the rest of their house) and pulled out his communicator, dusty from lack of use. His eyes swept the list of who was around, finally settling on one to send a quick message to. He turned the machine off again and tossed it unceremoniously under the bed. Now all he could do was wait.

 

 

It was a few hours before there was a tentative knock on the cottage door. Tommy shoved the gravel he was holding back into the chest he'd been organizing (how did Tubbo do this? It was so boring) and let the newcomer in.

 

“Ranboo, My favourite boob man! Thanks for coming. Please, come in. Pumpkin?”

 

Ranboo flinched away from the proffered pumpkin in a bowl. “Uh, no thanks. And you're welcome. And you live very far away now.”

 

Tommy grimaced. Truly, the worst part of running away from the countries and battles and everything was not being able to see the people he was close with. He didn’t regret it, not to be away from everything that was happening, but it’d be a lie to say he didn’t miss some of the people he used to visit (or, sometimes, bother) in the L’manberg region.

 

“Yeah, well. Nations are shit anyways. Me and Tubso, we’re big men. Business men, you might say. We have our own laws now.”

“And your laws are…?”

“Get wives and set shit on fire.”

“... is that it?”

 

“That’s the freedom the business man mindset offers you, boob boy. You should consider it.”

 

Ranboo shifted their weight between their feet, ears pinned down. “I, uh, think I’ll pass, I think.”

“Right, well, you’re already here on business anyways.” Tommy looks in both directions, before narrowing his eyes and leaning in close. “Did you bring the goods?”

Ranboo blinked. “I, uh, brought health potions?”

“Hell yeah, man, welcome to the world of drugs.”

“I thought you were… businessmen?”

 

“In the business of drugs. Now hand over the goods.”

Ranboo seems hesitant, but does hand over the potions, along with a handful of ingredients to make more should the need arise. Tommy rolls the ingredients over in his hands, like he’s appraising, before nodding sagely.

 

“Now this is the good stuff.”

“It’s… homemade?”

 

“You got a talent for this shit, man, you should become a drug dealer with me.”

“I really don’t think that's necessary.”

“More for me, then.” Tommy shrugs, setting the health potions carefully to the side, then gestures to the table. “Want anything? Soup? Water?”

“I’m allergic to water.”

“Well, God, don’t gotta be rude about it.”

“Sorry. I will take soup, if you’re still offering.”

Tommy dishes up two bowls of mushroom stew, sliding one haphazardly across the table to Ranboo, who fumbles to catch it before it splashes everywhere. He takes a cautious sip, then perks up as he swallows.

 

“Oh, this is actually good.”

“What, you thought it wouldn’t be?”

“Uh, no?”

Tommy made an affronted noise, slurping noisily at his bowl in retaliation. “You wound me, Ranboo. I can't believe you'd think such horrible thoughts. What have I ever done to make you think I can't cook?”

 

Ranboo looked at Tommy skeptically. “You just don't seem the type,” was their neutral answer.

 

“I'll have you know I make the most delicious soups. All the ladies, they say ‘Tommy, please make us soup’, and I say ladies, please, there's enough soup for everyone.”

 

“Right. Of course.”

 

“You're not even listening, are you?”

 

“Not really. I'm, uh, thinking.”

 

There was a beat of silence that passed over them, not awkward but not exactly comfortable either. Tommy had never really been one to hang in silence, not one to fade away quietly into the night. He had to be the last word, the booming echo that dared to defy the world. However, Ranboo was frankly looking liable to piss themselves, fidgety and skittish, so Tommy allowed them a moment to collect themselves, because he was gracious and incredible like that.

 

“Is Tubbo going to be okay?” Ranboo finally asked, bowl of stew emptied on the table in front of them.

 

“Tubso? Yeah, he’ll be fine. Just a cold, nothing too serious.”

“Oh, that’s good.” They hesitated for a moment. “I sort of thought… I don’t really know that much about humans.”

 

Tommy sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Well, don’t worry so much. Tubbo is… he’s sturdy, y'know? He’ll be fine.”

 

Ranboo nodded, eyes remaining downcast, though some of the tension left their shoulders. Tommy took that as a small win. 

 

“Alright, up and at ‘em, enderbitch. Let’s go give Tubbo soup.”

Ranboo nodded, skittering off their chair like a nervous chicken. Tommy resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead choosing to ladle a bowl of stew and beeline for the bee boys room. Ranboo follows close behind, only pausing for a moment to fumble through grabbing a health potion. Tommy knocks loudly on the doorframe, startling Tubbo awake without much fanfare.

“Ay, Tubs, I brought you- the fuck is that?”

 

Tubbo grumbled something into the pillow, not at all explaining the chick that was currently using his hair as a roost. Ranboo cooed affectionately from somewhere beyond the doorway.

“His hair does look sort of like a nest,” They whispered, tail wagging behind them. 

 

Tommy snorted, moving to shoo the chick away. It peeped, scampering across Tubbo’s face to hide at the far end of the bed, waking the sleeping boy in the process, who startled upright.

 

“I’m awake, I’m-” He blinked, eyes focusing past Tommy, then narrowing, “-Bossman, why is your shadow so tall?”

 

“That’s Ranboo, dumb bitch. They brought potions for you so you don’t keel over and die tragically.”

 

“Oh. sweet.” was Tubbo’s bland reply, like he didn’t fully understand the sentence. Judging by the cloudiness still lingering in his eyes, he probably didn’t.

“I brought you soup.” Tommy announced anyway, plonking it in front of Tubbo, who blinked slowly once more.

“What kind?”

“Mushroom.”

 

Tubbo turned quizzically to Ranboo. “Is it any good?”

 

“Why the fuck are you asking them-”

“I mean, yeah, it was pretty good.”

“-Instead of just tasting it, fucking Christ, like you don’t trust me at all-”

 

“Alright, if you think it’s good, boss man.”

“-Honestly, I work hard to make this house a goddamn home, and this is the thanks I get-”

 

Ranboo glanced back and forth between Tommy, who was still rambling, and Tubbo, who was spooning a few bites of stew into his mouth. “Is he, uh, always like that?” They asked meekly, gesturing towards the indignant blond.

 

“Pretty much, yeah.” Tubbo enunciated around a mouthful of stew. “You’ll get used to it if you stay.”

“I’m… allowed to stay?”

“Got anywhere else to be?”

Ranboo fidgeting with their claws, finally shaking their head.

“Don’t see why not, then. Can’t really build a place for you right now, but-”

“Have you been listening to anything I've just said?” Tommy cut in.

“Nope.” Tubbo responded easily, scraping out the edges of the bowl. “Me and ranboo were busy bonding and shit.”

“What the fuck? Without me?”

“Yep. Ranboo’s moving in with us. He can have your room, I’ve decided. You can sleep in the garden like the rat you are.”

“You fucking-”

The two launched into another tirade. Ranboo watched for a moment, vaguely concerned about what they’d just signed up for, before ultimately picking up the used dishes and returning them to the kitchen. When they returned, Tubbo and Tommy seemed to have made amends by the time they returned, Tubbo seeming to be in the process of returning to sleep whilst Tommy had scooped up the chick and was idly petting its head.

 

“You’re both fine?” Ranboo asked cautiously.

 

“God, you sound like a mother hen. We’ll have to keep the chick inside for you to fuss on.”

“No, don’t do that, I want to keep it.” Tubbo whined, though it was mostly muffled by his pillow.

 

“Co-parent, then, I don’t care. I’m too busy with my many girlfriends to be tied down by a child.”

Ranboo eyed them both. “I wouldn’t mind a pet.” Was their neutral response.

 

“We already have Tommy, we don’t need another one.” Tubbo mumbled out. Tommy squawked, but didn’t have the chance to give a proper response before Tubbo continued, “I’m tired as fuck so I’m taking a nap. Get out.”

Dutifully, the two cleared out of the room, Tommy releasing the chick somewhere into the living room and dusting his hands.

 

“If you are sticking around, you better help out. I wasn’t kidding about this house being a home, except we couldn’t take most of our shit with us, so we started from the ground up.”

Ranboo nodded, choosing not to ask why they couldn’t bring supplies with them to build their house. Something told them they didn’t want to know. “I don’t mind mining trips.”

“You better be prepared, then, ‘cuz we’re gonna make you work, bitch.” Despite how his words may seem, Tommy smiled genuinely at them, and they couldn’t help the small smile they gave back.

 

There was an air of peace to the cooling dusk light, as the sun started to sink over the horizon. A truly undisturbed time, where the animals returned to their burrows but the monsters hadn’t quite awoken yet. The world was still, quiet, and as dishes were put away and blankets were thrown around the three friends, it was going to stay that way until tomorrow’s light.

Notes:

let's run fic fight!
*migraine for a week* aw dang it!
*writers block* aw dang it!
*workplace lowkey falls apart* aw dang it!
*family stuff happens* aw dang it!
*migraine for a week AGAIN* aw dang it!

This is my thinly laid excuse as to why i didn't post this month at all. I am so sorry gamers I'll do better next time. In other news drink water eat a meal live ur life kings