Chapter Text
Tubbo leaned over the edge of the roof, squinting his eyes against the cold breeze, with Ranboo at his side. All of Snowchester was laid out before them. The houses looked small from up on the mansion, as though his commune were merely part of a model train set. Lamplight shone through the tiny windows, warm and yellow against the gray day. Curling up from cobblestone chimneys, smoke from unseen fireplaces faded imperceptibly into the sharp sky. Snow sloughed in comfortable dollops over the spruce roofs, and the two of them could make out faint tracks in the snow between houses.
They looked inviting, though, despite their miniscule size, those cabins huddled solidly together, a community lodged in snow. They should’ve seemed vulnerable to the cape and the cold, isolated and forlorn. If there had been but one cabin, then sure, it might have been this way, and it would surely have fallen into disrepair. But together, organized and sturdy, supported by strong wood and stronger bonds, Tubbo reckoned they were impervious.
Well, he hoped so, at least, even if his preparations said otherwise. Here, in this snug little pocket, removed from the scarred wasteland that was his old home, they were protected from the chill ocean air and the mobs of the pines.
He was proud of what he had built; Ranboo saw it in his eyes. Proud of this safe haven and the hardy family that had grown from within, of the architectural harmony shared by their homes, of the transport system and the bay, of the vault and the farms and the flags flapping in the wind.
But Tubbo was restless, and if his pride in his creation was anything to marvel at, his fear of losing it was even more remarkable. Whatever calm he’d created felt deceptive. History had proven peace only preceded the storm, so he refused to let himself sit still in that quiet. Ranboo related more than he could ever say.
He’d construct railways, then, or install lamp posts. He’d make more public spaces, maybe a new apiary, or just a greenhouse that could provide respite from the chill. Anything to protect the life flourishing within the walls of Snowchester, within that cluster of fragile toy houses. Anything to prevent the past from creeping up on him.
“God, what do we even do with ourselves after this?” Tubbo asked aloud. He tipped his head back and watched his breath dissipate into the air. “What’s the next big move?”
“After Foolish finishes building the mansion?” Ranboo thought for a moment. “Isn’t it enough to stay here, away from everything, and watch Michael grow up?”
“Yeah, but like, how long will that last? I mean, let’s be honest, big man, I haven’t exactly had the best track record with this sorta stuff.”
“Oh, right, yeah, kinda true.” The half-Ender chuckled uncomfortably. He looked over at Tubbo then back over Snowchester, sitting in silence for a few seconds before speaking up again. “Uh, well, we could make a playground for Michael, so he can still be outside but in a safe way.”
Tubbo hummed.
“Or, uh, we could turn your old house into a guest house,” Ranboo rambled. “Cause then we could have-- well, wait, we don’t really want people coming over here-- oh, but Tommy could stay in it and--.”
“Opinions on the devil’s lettuce, big man?”
“... what?”
“The devil’s lettuce!”
He paused, recalculating. “Okay, change of topic, I get it, uh, I didn’t know lettuce grew in these parts?”
“No, no, no, Ranboo. I’m referring to marijuana ,” he sounded out, raising his eyebrows and waggling his fingers. A great shit-eating grin spread across his face.
“Oh. Oh!” Realization dawned on Ranboo’s face. “You’re inviting me to come smoke with you.”
“Yup! What do you say to that?”
“Oh, wait, I was right? I… uh.” Ranboo shifted his weight, brow creased in consideration. “Wow. Man. I don’t know actually. I’ve never really… done that before?” He smiled sheepishly and forced a shrug. “Yeah, I dunno.”
“Ranboo, it’s totally cool if you don’t wanna,” Tubbo reassured. His eyes danced with amusement (he was clearly enjoying how flustered Ranboo was getting). “I’m not gonna force you to do drugs with me.”
“No, no, it’s not that I don’t want to,” he amended. “I’m just a little surprised.”
“Ranboo. I made literal nukes and this is what you’re surprised by?”
“Yeah, okay, good point.” He chuckled, pulling at his cuffs.
Tubbo stood up and brushed the snow off his clothes. “Howzabout I just show you my set up, big man, and we go from there?”
“I… okay? Sure? I guess?”
The half-Ender scrambled up after a very amused Tubbo feeling beyond perplexed. How in Prime was this a real conversation he was having? He’d heard Tubbo make jokes about weed before, what with Tommy and Wilbur and the drug van and everything, but he’d never taken him seriously . It wasn’t too far fetched-- in fact, it made sense, in a weird way-- but Ranboo was having difficulty wrapping his head around it.
Tubbo made his way across the shingles and ducked into an open window. Ranboo clambered in after.
His husband looked back at him and laughed. “God, you’re so awkward when you do that. Your limbs go everywhere! You’re like a baby giraffe.”
“Ex- cuse me?” Ranboo faked indignance, earning another laugh out of Tubbo.
“I said what I said!”
That was another thing: the awkwardness. Maybe it was wishful thinking or some strange result of societal misconceptions, but Ranboo humored the idea that getting high might make him cooler. He mentally kicked himself for the thought the moment it popped into his head. Weed wasn’t some magical cure-all for being anxious or socially awkward, and glorifying the activity was just ridiculous. But still… he wouldn’t mind being a little less in his head.
“What’s it… what’s it like?”
“What, being high?” Tubbo waved broadly to Foolish and yelled something vaguely encouraging as the pair made their way down the grand staircase.
Ranboo almost tripped over his feet. “Oh my god, please be quiet. Yes.”
Tubbo snorted. “Well I dunno, man, it’s kinda hard to describe, and I’m not great with words. It’s like… it’s like….” He stepped out of the archway and into the bracing winter air. Then, he snapped his fingers.
“Oh, I know! It’s like that feeling you get when you’re really sleepy, y’know, an’ everything gets all silly and floaty.”
“Yeah?” Ranboo asked, shielding his eyes from the sudden harsh whiteness of the snow.
“Yep! It also dumbs you down a bit, like you’re a toddler. Makes things real simple, just very nice overall.”
“Huh,” he said, the uncertainty in his shoulders leaving him a bit. “Okay. That doesn’t sound too… that sounds kinda nice actually.”
“Right?” Tubbo agreed, slapping Ranboo on the back. “Now, come on. I’ll show you my secret stash .”
Tubbo led Ranboo through the snow and over to the potato farm, where he broke the stone brick wall, replacing it once Ranboo’d passed through. Once they reached the vault, he kept going and scaled the ladder past the villager’s quarters and down to the farm. They walked over the tiered field, careful not to trod on the crops (well, Ranboo was careful; Tubbo didn’t care).
“So you’re telling me you straight up have weed planted right next to the regular food we trade with the villagers.”
“Sorta.” Tubbo shrugged.
The pair reached the back of the hall. Expecting the shorter to stop there, Ranboo was surprised when Tubbo moved aside some of the stone slabs to reveal a space behind the wall. And just like that, Tubbo was through the gap, leaving Ranboo to idle behind him.
The tall Ender hybrid ducked through the new doorway, minding his horns against the low opening. He half expected to see some sort of Breaking Bad meth lab or a mess of bubbling, brightly-colored potions in the style of Wonka’s Inventing Room. Instead, he emerged into a small lamplit chamber.
The first thing he noticed was the change in temperature. The air in the room was heavy and warm, made even more so by Tubbo resealing the entrance. Through glass windows in the wall, Ranboo caught a glimpse of the lava and water heating system that kept this room toasty when the temperatures aboveground were freezing. The glow of the lava merged with the light refractions bouncing off the water to cast odd, warped patterns over the walls.
The second thing he noticed was the rather more obvious component of the chamber: the plants at its center. Tall and bustling, they rose neatly from a few rows of large clay pots, arms extending out from their stems in quintuplets of pronged leaves. Based on the planters, Ranboo estimated that there were around a dozen of them. Although clearly distinguished at their bases, they formed a leafy mass en ensemble, making it difficult to get a clear count. A grid of shroom lights inlaid in the low ceiling provided the plants with artificial sunlight.
Tubbo moved past Ranboo and bent over to check a small temperature gauge. He peered at the flat metal cylinder, tapped the glass, and, appearing satisfied, straightened up.
Noticing the smaller boy had removed his jacket, Ranboo undid the top button of his button-up and loosened his tie reflexively.
The goat hybrid watched Ranboo and grinned, soaking in his husband’s astonishment.
“So, what d’you think, big man?”
“Um. Wow.” Ranboo raised his eyebrows, unsure of how to respond. “Yeah, that’s it, just wow.”
Tubbo giggled. “I knew you’d be speechless. You look all ‘ What?! My husband grows da marijuana whaaat?’ ” He slapped his hands over his cheeks in mock surprise.
“Pfft, okay, that’s not me.”
“Nope, it totally is.”
“Ehhh, is it though?”
“Yup.”
“Alright, man, fine,” Ranboo resigned in a high pitched tone, his arms raised in defeat. “So do we snort it straight off the stem or inject it anally?”
“Through the butt,” Tubbo responded calmly, examining the plants for any signs of sickness or disease. “Open wide, big man.”
Ranboo chuckled and shook his head with a wry quirk of his lips. “If you say so.” He leaned forward and looked at the plants with Tubbo. Looking more closely, he could see that some were denser than others at their center, crowded with fuzz and buds.
“See these orange curly bits right here?” Tubbo pointed to the top of the plant. “That’s all the stigma and trichomes and crap. The fact that they’re lookin’ all amber-ish means they’re almost ripe; I reckon we have a week tops before our next big harvest.”
“Oh, huh. You’re not gonna collect the buds right now then?”
“Nope. I’ve already got the last harvest dried and sealed. Don’t wanna buck this batch before its time.”
“I’m sorry, you plan on doing what to the plants?”
Tubbo got up and pulled a chain, releasing a gentle spray of water onto the plants. “Buck ‘em.”
Ranboo pulled back from the droplets. “You… what??”
“I think I’ve made myself quite clear, Ranboo.”
“I… you know what, I’m not even gonna ask honestly.”
“Die ignorant, I guess,” Tubbo responded nonchalantly. He dove into a more thorough explanation of his set-up, describing to a rapt Ranboo the various environmental requirements involved in growing a healthy crop of pot.
Details regarding the thermal system and the timing of the lighting array went over Ranboo’s head with their redstone mechanics. Luckily, he wasn’t listening for that. Seeing Tubbo ramble on about a new project was worth more to him than learning about how to care for marijuana plants. How he’d kept quiet about this Ranboo had no clue.
Ranboo loved watching his husband when he was like this. He got visibly more excited as he went on, gesticulating enthusiastically and moving about the room to point out different key elements. Ranboo nodded along to Tubbo’s notes regarding humidity and the use of bone meal, occasionally throwing in a bemused hum.
Soon enough, Tubbo leaned back and stretched. “Welp, that’s the tour. What d’you think?”
What do I think? Ranboo asked himself. He didn’t think he was a very uptight person, but the situation still threw him for a loop. He had so many questions, like who had taught Tubbo how to grow weed and how long this had been going on.
When he thought about it, though, he wasn’t even all that shocked. Something about this made sense, considering all the other boy had been through. Besides, when compared to his success with nuclear warfare, this was a hilariously tame enterprise.
“Honestly, Tubbo, I’m impressed. Like, this is in no way something I would know anything about personally let alone be able to replicate, so it’s super cool that you can do stuff like this. Yeah, no, man, it’s actually really cool.”
“Aw, thanks, dude,” Tubbo said appreciatively. He beamed a genuine smile at Ranboo and hoisted a small leather bag onto his back. “Make sure to save some of those compliments for later though. You haven’t even tried the product!”
---
They wound up in a pine grove on top of a nearby hill. If one of them wanted to, they could walk over and part the needles for a glimpse of the valley, but as it was, the pair was tucked away and out of sight.
Ranboo brushed some snow off a nearby log and sat down. “Any reason we’re outside?”
“It’s nice out.” Tubbo started unpacking his backpack, laying out a pipe, a lighter, and some unmarked container. “And there’s less chance of us getting interrupted by Foolish or Puffy or someone like that.” He chuckled to himself. “Also, I wouldn’t wanna hotbox you your first time, unless you want that.”
“Hotbox?”
“It’s where you get sat up in a little room with all the windows and doors closed and shit and smoke a ton of weed. It gets you real high, since the smoke has nowhere to go.” He unscrewed the container and started to scrape dried, ground leaves into the bowl. “Wilbur was a fan.”
Ranboo blinked. “Oh, huh. Cool.”
“Alright, so what I’m doing now, big man--” Tubbo said, waving Ranboo over to watch, “--is called ‘packing the bowl.’ This means I’m putting the dried--.”
“Okay, okay, just because I didn’t know one term doesn’t mean I can’t extrapolate the rest. Come on, man.”
“I’m just giving you the full experience! So I’m taking the weed (that’s the dried green stuff, Ranboo) and putting it in here (this is the bowl , Ranboo) and--.”
“I hate you.” Ranboo plugged his ears. “I’m not even listening anymore.”
Tubbo laughed impishly.
The two sat side by side on the log, bickering lightly. Low in the sky, the sun set strips of gold onto the bristling pines and down the snowbanks. It coaxed sparkles out of the frozen crystals. The light was almost eye level now, but the laden branches shielded their eyes from its glare.
Their back-and-forth trailed off once the goat hybrid finished prep. “All done,” he declared in a flippantly matter-of-fact tone.
Ranboo focused himself immediately, suddenly feeling apprehensive as Tubbo picked up the lighter. He worried the gloves off his hands and slipped them into his pockets. It seemed unlikely that anything would go wrong or even could go wrong. He knew what to expect, and he knew most people didn’t have a big reaction, especially their first time.
But I’m not human , he thought. What if it spurred him into Enderwalking? What if he hurt Tubbo or Michael? Weed wasn’t typically an aggressor, but who knew how the substance would interact with this Endic blood and whatever the hell his other half belonged to.
If he let himself loosen his grip on the viselike control he exercised over his behavior, what would happen? He might reveal information to Tubbo that he didn’t want his husband knowing under any circumstances. He might tell him about the voice and the books and the betrayal. He might wake up divorced come morning.
Ranboo grimaced. Why must every act of play on this server be damning?
Tubbo’s mittens were off. “Alright, so you just gotta watch me and follow what I do. ‘S not terribly tricky.” He raised the pipe to his mouth and flicked the lighter. The boy gently put his mouth to its lip while lighting the contents of the bowl, finger over the carb.
Ranboo watched Tubbo close his eyes and inhale deeply. He couldn’t help but look at his silhouette, taking in the details of snowflakes dusting his hair and lashes, highlighting the tousled curls. The flickering red glow of the bowl matched the dash of warmth across the boy’s cheeks.
Tubbo lifted his finger after a few seconds, then took the pipe off his face. He exhaled a cloud of smoke into the crisp air, tilting his head back. His face relaxed almost imperceptibly, and Ranboo got the sense he was witnessing tradition.
“See, Ranboo? Nothing to it.” He smirked, attaining an appearance of coolness that lasted all of a heartbeat before a cough spasmed through him. “Wait, no-- ignore that-- shut up-- fuck--.” He held a hand over his mouth and coughed, face flushed.
Ranboo threw his head back and laughed. “I was about to tell you you looked really cool, man!”
“I still am!” Tubbo insisted, leaning down for a water bottle. “Geez, it’s like bein’ back with Wilbur and Tommy. ‘S not fair, dude! At least lemme have this!”
“Nope,” Ranboo teased. “I’ve actually revoked your coolness. It belongs to me now.”
“You’re pissing me off, man. I’d like to see you try it without losing your shit.” Tubbo glared at Ranboo and held the pipe out to him.
His husband took it delicately. Any witty comebacks he’d been preparing died on his lips as he got himself used to the weight of it, to the feel of the glaze beneath his fingers. The smell, too, heavy and skunky, he had to reconcile.
“Uh… how do I, um….” He faltered.
“I can show you again, if you want,” Tubbo offered. “D’you want me to?”
“...Sure?” He passed the pipe back to Tubbo.
“Okay, so what you’re gonna want to do here is first make sure it’s still lit.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then you’re gonna bring it up for your mouth and suck it in. You gotta make sure your finger’s covering this little hole here or else the whole thing doesn’t really work properly.” Tubbo gestured as he spoke. “Count to four, take your finger off, breathe in some more, take it away from your mouth. Hold it in a good few moments so you can make sure the stuff gets to your lungs. Then breathe out. Like so-- you watching?”
Ranboo nodded.
“Good.” Tubbo took a long hit off the pipe, counting for Ranboo with one hand, articulating his movements to make the steps clear. He held it in for several moments then exhaled smoke. “Just like so.”
“Ah, okay, just like that, huh?” Ranboo took the pipe from Tubbo, nodding to himself. “I think I get it now actually.”
He steeled himself with a deep breath of fresh air. He was buzzing with anticipation, excitement, nerves. The air was sharp around his fingers, palpable and fresh, tinted with the earthy smell. Time honed itself in on this singular moment as Ranboo drew the pipe up to his lips and breathed in.
One… two… three… fuck . He coughed involuntarily and doubled over, slapping a hand over his mouth. It felt like swallowing fire. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized between coughs.
Tubbo laughed and took the pipe from him. “It’s fine! Oh my god, you should’ve seen me my first time. Wilbur and Tommy were laughing their asses off.”
Ranboo hacked out a weak laugh. “D’you have, like, anything that’s not water?”
“Yup, worry not, I’ve got one of Michael’s little apple juice boxes somewhere in here!” Tubbo reassured, rummaging through his bag. He pulled it out, speared the top with the straw, and handed it to Ranboo. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” Ranboo croaked out. He cradled the apple juice to his face. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be, dude! To be fair, like I said already, I had an absolute fit my first time.” He laughed. “Tommy likes to pretend he’s a big man n’ all, but he wasn’t much better. I mean, I wasn’t technically there his first time, to be fair, but I know him, so.”
Ranboo chuckled around the straw. “Was this, like, a regular thing?”
“Eh, not really , but also kinda? Wilbur smoked with Schlatt a bunch, before shit went down, and I think also Quackity? He taught Tommy, and Tommy had me come along with one time. He’s real great like that, is Tommy.” Tubbo smiled against the lip of the pipe.
“That’s nice, that’s nice,” his husband agreed. “Yeah, Tommy’s great.”
“Wilbur never remembered to bring water,” he remembered. “Y’know, I think he liked the burning.”
“Oh,” Ranboo said. “Well. Yeah. No, that seems about right, definitely.”
Tubbo hummed in response. “Care for another hit, boss man?”
“Sure, sure, thanks.” He took the pipe from Tubbo. “God, it would be embarrassing if I coughed again.”
“You will,” Tubbo stated.
Ranboo straightened up. “We’ll see about that, Tubbo,” he intoned with comedic bravado. The half-Ender took a confident drag from the pipe, concentrating hard on not spitting out his inhale. He counted, held his breath, and released.
“God, you do it all weird.” Tubbo poked Ranboo, causing the taller to lose his composure and start laugh-coughing again.
“C’mon, man, I’m just doing what you showed me!”
“No, ‘s different. You’re doing it all weird, dude.”
“All weird?”
Tubbo nodded solemnly. “All weird, just like I said.”
“I-- okay, fine, sure, I guess,” Ranboo snorted. He rolled his eyes and sipped from his apple juice. He didn’t need to see Tubbo’s face to know the boy was grinning. “All weird, alright. Not offended at all.”
“Y’know,” Tubbo said, suddenly sounding serious. “‘S okay if you are offended, like, that’s not bad or anything. You can be offended, big man.”
“Oh, no, I’m not really. I was just joking around.”
“That’s good.” The goat hybrid scratched at his ear and took another hit.
Ranboo watched curiously (watching being one of his talents) and took the moment of silence to check in with himself. He didn’t feel any different, not yet, at least. Maybe it didn’t work on him. Or maybe he was doing it wrong. If so, he felt bad for having wasted Tubbo’s supply.
Oh, speaking of... “Hey, why do you grow weed? Like, wouldn’t it be easier to buy it?”
“‘S interesting.” Tubbo shrugged. “I like growing things. An’ it makes me think of the old days.”
“Like, back during L’Manberg?”
“Yup.”
Ranboo mulled this over and, sensing the sensitivity of the topic, pushed forward anyways. “So, L’Manberg really did start with a drug van?”
He sensed he’d mistepped when Tubbo frowned. “No! Well, yeah, kinda. But Dream didn’t fuckin’ care what it was, he just wanted it gone, so does it matter?”
“... no, I guess not.”
Twilight turned the snow-laden ground slowly from gold to silver. There was no bird song, only the faint swishing of needles in the breeze and the occasional scamper of a woodland creature. It was perfectly still and quiet. Above them, the stars started to show.
“-- but he’s all wrapped up in that stupid egg thing now, so that’s a no-go. A no-go. No- go . No -go. What’s a no-go again, Ranboo?”
“Huh?” Ranboo blinked back into focus. “Oh, uh, a no-go, it’s, uh…” He frowned. “Wait, who are we talking about?”
“Punz.”
“Oh, okay. What’s a no-go?”
“That’s what I’m asking!”
The indignation in Tubbo’s voice made Ranboo buckle over and wheeze-laugh, sending Tubbo into a fit of laughter as well.
“I was talking about Punz, dude, and how he used to be a good plug, but he’s all lovey-dovey and shit with the fuckin’ egg now. God, that stupid egg, Ranboo.”
“Yeah, it’s stupid, it’s really stupid,” Ranboo agreed. For a moment he ruminated on missing part of the conversation-- some semi-sober part of him found it hilarious-- but he quickly tensed up as the memory of being trapped above the egg brought itself to the surface.
With that memory came the sensation. He recalled, bodily, that consciousness, that creeping, gut-wrenching, nauseating consciousness that had grown its way into his body up through his feet. His fingers twitched.
“I really don’t like it, Tubbo, like I really don’t.” The half-Ender grimaced and shuddered in on himself. “It says some bad things, man. Yeah, I don’t, um… sorry, could I just have another hit maybe?”
“Be my guest,” Tubbo said, passing it back. “This marriage doesn’t only come with tax benefits, sexy.”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully and followed through. As he breathed out, he tilted his head up towards the sky, gasping quietly at the vast expanse above. He’d been sinking into anxiety’s grip, confused by its potency, but now… now all he could do was look at the sky. “Woah,” he felt himself saying. “Tubbo. Tubbo, Tubbo, look.” He pulled at his husband’s sleeve and pointed up.
Prime, how many other servers were out there, lightyears away, planes apart? Above him hung a void of possibility. How could there possibly be more worlds he couldn’t see, when even this small sample of the universe felt so large?
Ranboo’s back felt cold and damp. He pondered this for a moment, then realized with a detached amusement that he’d leaned back off the log, pulling Tubbo down with him, and was now lying in the snow. His legs were still up on the log, though.
They were so long compared to Tubbo’s, he thought, kicking them up and down with a delighted giggle. Tubbo really was so small next to him, wasn’t he? Their height difference was suddenly the funniest thing to him. He laughed even harder, only breaking to communicate to Tubbo the important fact that he was very small.
“No, I’m not!” Tubbo protested.
“Yes, you are!” Ranboo insisted. “Just an eensy weensy little goat boy. That’s you. That’s who you are actually, Tubbo, if I’m being honest, Tubbo. Embrace it!”
Tubbo elbowed Ranboo good-naturedly, causing the teen to curl up and giggle uncontrollably. “Fuck you, man.”
“Okay!” Ranboo wheezed. “I mean, if you insist!”
“What?”
Ranboo waved him off. “Nothing, nothing, don’t worry about it.”
“Well, alright then, boss man,” Tubbo said in bemusement. “Alright then.”
“Keep your secrets,” Ranboo supplied, plunging him right into another fit of cackling. Tubbo’s confusion somehow made this whole thing funnier.
This whole thing? What whole thing? He scrunched up his face, finding he couldn’t recall what he’d been laughing about. The answer felt just out of reach, but it was hazy and intangible.
Oddly, the lapse in memory didn’t make his stomach hurt. Huh.
It was around then, as he lay there, holding Tubbo’s hand in the snow and staring vaguely up at the sky, that Ranboo reached the brilliant conclusion that he was high. Extremely high.
“Tubbooooo?”
“Ranboooo?” The boy echoed.
Ranboo snickered and repeated, “Tubbooooo?”
“Ranbooo?” Came the teasing response, pitching up near the end.
They went back and forth several more times, saying each other’s names until the words devolved into laughter, and Ranboo forgot what he meant to ask. The surprising thing was that he didn’t even mind that he couldn’t remember. Normally, it would light a spark of anxiety in his core, a slow, crawling malfeasance that choked the air out of his throat and whispered terrors into his ears.
But now? He couldn’t bring himself to care. There were just so many stars.
Tubbo had started to sing something. It sounded like a nursery rhyme, and even though the words slipped past Ranboo, it sounded pleasant. He chirruped and nuzzled his head into the wool of Tubbo’s vest.
To his delight, Ranboo found he could feel the vibrations from his husband’s lungs and vocal chords. He leaned into the warm buzzing, curling up at Tubbo’s side. If he listened hard enough, he could hear his heartbeat, too; it entranced Ranboo. He dimly registered a change in breathing pattern as Tubbo chuckled softly to himself.
The delight he felt when the younger suddenly carded a hand through his hair was immeasurable. The Ender hybrid shivered and leaned into the touch.
Why hadn’t he moved into the mansion yet? Ranboo wondered, perplexed as to why he’d stay away from all this. There was someone bad… no, not bad, complicated … and it was two someones actually, and….
He gave up and closed his eyes. His pearl sang to him.
“Who cares actually?” He mumbled into Tubbo’s vest. “I ‘on’t.”
“Hm?” Tubbo asked, tilting his head.
Not expecting a response, Ranboo struggled to put the dilemma into words. How could he possibly sum up the exhausting mental toll that came with trying to balance his personal desires with his need to prepare for disaster and protect his loved ones? He finally landed on the perfect way to communicate this information to Tubbo.
“Well, it’s both snow,” he explained. “But ‘s different. Hurts.”
“Oh! Is the snow hurting your skin, Ranboo?”
The Ender-hybrid opened his mouth to correct Tubbo before realizing his hands and the back of his neck were, in fact, slightly irritated.
“Actually, yeah, kind of,” he said, feeling the back of his neck with his fingers.
“Alrighty then, let’s get up n’ at ‘em, big man.” Tubbo sat up and clapped his hands. “C’mon, Ranboo.”
“Five more minutes,” Ranboo pleaded, burying his head in his elbows.
“Nuh-uh, come on.” His husband reached down and tugged at Ranboo’s suit jacket until the tall boy staggered up. “Geez, dude, you’re so limb-y. Do you eat asparagus for a living?”
“Do I what? ”
“Or string beans or uh french fries or… what are some other tall foods, Ranboo? You’re those.”
Ranboo took a moment to collect himself and maintain his balance, smiling slowly. “So… I’m a snack. Good to know, good to know.”
“That you are, sexy!” Tubbo agreed with a toothy grin. He relit the bowl and took another hit.
Ranboo picked up his apple juice and gazed mutely around while Tubbo babbled on about one thing or another. The puff of water vapor that came with each exhale mesmerized him. He reached out his fingers to part the mist, dissipating them like spirits into the night air.
Pines loomed around him in dense silhouettes against the navy sky, smudging the constellations out of pattern. The snow glittered freshly in the moon’s gaze, lending the scene a whimsical feel. Sparkles danced into art deco patterns before his eyes. Ornate green and pink swirls connected dots he’d never have picked up on normally. It was trippy, he decided, for lack of better word, yet pleasant.
Curious, he raised a boot then let it fall in the unblemished powder. There, the snow crunched satisfyingly underfoot, and the patterns shifted somewhat.
“-- so what d’you say to that, Ranboo?”
He looked up at his name and tilted his head. “Huh?”
The Ender hybrid was met with a snicker and a raise of the eyebrows. “Oh, I see how it is.”
“Sorry,” Ranboo fretted. He’d missed something, hadn’t he? And now Tubbo was upset. “Oh noooo. I’m sorry, Tubs.”
“Yeah, you should be,” the younger snarked. He headbutted Ranboo. “I was just sayin’, boss man, we’re getting down to the burnt done bits-- the, the ashes on this one. It’s got, like, one go left? Mhm.” He outstretched his hold in offering. “You can have it, if you want, Ranboo.”
“Oh! Thank you, thank you, yeah,” Ranboo said, taking the pipe gratefully. He raised it, then paused with a chuckle. “I thought you were, like, angry and actually got really worried for a moment there.”
“If I were angry, you’d know, ‘cause I’d’ve blown you up with a nuke.”
“Ah.” He took a drag from the pipe, seizing up with the gust of sparks that tickled against the back of his throat. He passed the pipe back and took a small sip of apple juice.
For whatever reason, this sent Tubbo bursting into a round of warm laughter. “Juice box Boo,” he wheezed. “Baby Boo. Bee Boo! Bee n’ Boo!”
Confused but unconcerned, Ranboo joined in. “Bee Boo! Bee n’ Boo!”
Tubbo gasped and leaned forward, eyes blown wide with the idea that had hit him. “Ranboo, oh my god, we should go check on the inn!”
“Ohhh my god,” Ranboo said, still doubled over in laughter. “Like, right now?”
“Yeah, man, why not?” The goat hybrid exclaimed. “Wait, unless you wanted to smoke another bowl?”
“No, no, no, that’s fine, yeah, let’s go to the inn! … Why are we going to the inn?”
“‘Cause we’re going to the inn, silly!” He answered and knelt in the snow.
“Oh, okay,” Ranboo replied after a moment’s delay, sending the both of them into another fit of giggles. He tilted his head back and grinned loopily at the sky while Tubbo packed back up. The juice tasted tangy against his tongue. It refreshed the back of his throat with its familiar cool, even if the liquid felt a bit drier and sticker than normal. He didn’t like how he could feel himself swallow.
Realizing his husband had slung the backpack over his shoulder and was now waiting a couple feet away, Ranboo pushed himself up off the log. With that movement, it struck him how out of sync his brain and body were with each other. He stood up alright, but it took him a couple seconds of swaying in place to recognize that he could no longer feel the rough wood of the log underneath him.
By the time that clicked, he’d already begun following Tubbo out of the glen, minding the other’s footsteps and following him through the snow. He relied on the prints of the boy’s snow boots to guide him through the sparse, snowlight line of firs. A second set of footprints threw him for a loop, until he remembered they were heading back the way they came.
All the while, Tubbo prattled on, with Ranboo doing his best to listen but inevitably drifting off towards whatever thought flitted across his mind.
The duo stepped out over the lip of the hill. They were met with the sight of a bay sparkling with moonlight and a collection of silver-sheened cabins with glowing windows.
“Woah.” Tubbo stopped in his tracks.
Ranboo pulled up short next to him and looked up in confusion. Then, he registered the view, and his jaw dropped in awe. “Wow.”
The night air was still and without breeze. Everything hung in place, the sanctity of the commune kept perfectly undisturbed. The stars winked overhead, embedded in a darkening tapestry of silk, as moonlight cast silver ripples over the expanse of the ocean. Below them lay an Eden of blue, silver, and gold.
“I did this…” Tubbo breathed. He turned to Ranboo for confirmation. “I made this, Ranboo?”
“Yeah,” the taller confirmed, whipping his head to stare pointedly at Tubbo’s forehead and nodding enthusiastically. “You did, Tubbo, you built this, you made it all safe and nice.”
“It’s real?” Tubbo checked.
“Yep. You can go touch a building or something if you wanna make sure,” Ranboo suggested. “That can be helpful sometimes, I mean, I find it helpful sometimes.” He fell silent a moment then giggled. “Touch grass, Tubbo.”
The goat hybrid grinned and tugged at the woolen lining of his vest, fluffing it up. “No you. Do that, memory boy. Ranboob.” He poked him and darted forward, running clumsily down the slope.
By the time Ranboo focused back in and tottered after, the boy was halfway down the hill. He held out his arms for stability and concentrated on matching his feet into the imprints Tubbo had left behind.
The pair passed between the houses, shushing each other loudly but bursting into peals of laughter anyway. Wooden pylons loomed out of the dark. Lanterns swung warmly at their ends, transfixing Ranboo’s gaze.
He felt fuzzy and light, detached from his surroundings yet deliciously involved. It was as though the world were a landscape that had gone from gouache to watercolor. Edges felt looser, more fallible. The high amplified the distance between his head and his feet; he had to focus on each step individually. Sightseeing suddenly required a full stop. Balance felt like a promise he had to keep. He lagged behind both himself and Tubbo, lost in a swirling haze.
Before he knew it, they’d reached the tunnel that spanned the bay.
Ranboo’s expression fell when he saw what awaited him. “Oh no, no, no.” He worried his hands together.
Tubbo turned around. “What’s up?”
“Water…” Ranboo explained miserably. “Don’t wanna.”
Tubbo thought on this then gave a thumbs up of understanding. “Okay! Operation walk-on-top-instead commencing.” He clambered up the side of the tunnel until he was standing atop the stone framework.
The Ender hybrid creased his brow in confusion. “I don’t have to? Usually I have to, n’ it’s fine, ‘cause of armor, but I don’t want to tonight actually, for some reason, is that okay?”
“Of course! Now get on up here, seggsy, or I’m leaving without you.” True to his word, the boy turned and started walking the roof’s length.
Ranboo startled and pulled himself up onto the glass surface.
Dazed, he ran the conversation through his head. Such thoughtfulness, given without a second thought… It was a relief to know Tubbo wouldn’t get mad over such a small thing. It was a relief to know he could abstain from the water tunnel if he so chose.
Like the snow , he thought. On my knuckles, my neck...
His husband marched several paces ahead. The lunar glow cast licks of silver upon his mussed hair and outlined his horns, which were just achieving curl. Delicate clumps of fluff poked out from the edges of his parka in bright white filament. Behind him, he left a faint trail of snowy, as clumps of it came loose from his pants or boots.
Tubbo looked small against the expanse of the sky, even though he made up for it in fire. He had given himself a destination to reach-- a goal to pursue-- and would stop at nothing to get there. Powerlessness breeds purpose, or something like that.
And Ranboo would follow him wherever he walked. He’d follow him to the ends of the server and further. Even as they crossed the invisible border between Snowchester and the Greater SMP, Ranboo felt secure, because he was with Tubbo.
A low purr rose in the back of the teen’s throat.
He tread the line between the inky blackness of the ocean and the void of the sky with a bounce in his step. Clicks and whirrs filled the space between the stars as the walls of Snowchester faded behind them.