Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

Tubbo hopped off at the end of the tunnel and landed spryly in the grass on the other side, his husband clambering carefully down after him. 

“Solid ground,” Ranboo said thankfully, wobbly-legged. Balancing along the top of the tunnel was preferable to going along the inside, but the threat of falling into the ocean had still made him nervous. 

“Hey, don’t bash the arcey-- the orche-stretcher-- the building of my hyperspeed tunnel!” Tubbo sputtered and wagged his finger.

Ranboo jolted forward with laughter then slapped a hand over his mouth, remembering they were in a more populated area. “Tubbo, we gotta be quiet,” he reminded them both in a stage whisper. 

“Nope,” Tubbo said brightly. He made it a few paces before realizing his brief statement warranted elaboration. “See, I reckon we can do whatever we want, boss man!” He tugged along the still giggling figure by the hand. “Who cares!” 

Ranboo gasped, nodded enthusiastically and let out a string of mumbled affirmations. He savoured the sensation of Tubbo’s hand in his. It was calloused, scarred, and small, yet soft all the same. It pulled him along with an insistence that set Ranboo chirruping again.

He didn’t have to purport himself in any way: he could stand as tall as he liked! The half-Ender unfolded himself gloriously from his standard hunch and shook out his head, smiling broadly in relief. Striding along the prime path beside his husband in the cool night air, he felt invincible. 

Tubbo! This was thanks to Tubbo that he felt so good right now, Ranboo thought. Wasn’t Tubbo brilliant? Wasn’t he bold and cunning and great? His heart surged with love towards the boy, bubbling up from his core and filling him with a delirious, fizzy rush of joy. 

He was so nice for doing this, for tolerating him and spending time with him, after all he’d done! Tubbo always stuck to his guns when Tommy expressed jealousy over his relationship with Ranboo, and his ears were so long and soft, and the weight of him was so solid in his arms, and--.

“--Ranboo! Lemme down! We’re here!” Tubbo protested, squirming out of Ranboo’s grasp.

Ranboo opened his mouth in a small “o” of surprise and loosened his arms, letting the goat hybrid slip onto the path. He’d been carrying Tubbo. The realization slowly dawned on him that he must’ve picked the smaller up at some point along the way. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, dumby.” Tubbo flicked Ranboo. “I liked it.”

Ranboo blinked, dumbfounded. “Oh. … That’s really nice actually.”

“You bet it is,” Tubbo shot back. He put his hands on his hips and leaned back, surveying the homey structure of the Bee n’ Boo. 

Warm and wooden, the stout building rose firmly from the side of the path. A mess of black-and-yellow striped paraphernalia was draped along its beams and window boxes, left over from their attempts to settle on a style for the building. 

“So… why’d we come here?”

“I thought you knew!” Ranboo burst out, cackling. 

“Well, I forgot!” Tubbo whined. 

Ranboo laughed uproariously, crouching down and heaving with lack of breath. His reaction got a chuckle out of Tubbo that quickly grew until the both of them were practically in stitches. 

“We came out here--” Ranboo wheezed.

“-- ‘N we didn’t even have a reason!”

“We didn’t even have a reason! Well, I guess we’re here now! Now we’re just here!”  

“Prime path with no prime!” Tubbo choked out, collapsing into Ranboo’s side. 

Ranboo snapped his fingers. “Tubbo, the prime path, the-- the--.” He pointed across the wooden planks to the Big Innit Hotel. “Him.”

“What?” Tubbo asked, wiping tears from his eyes. 

“Okay, so I was thinking, right, Tubbo, I was thinking--” he took the shorter’s wrists and looked at him intently-- “that we find Tommy. ‘Cause we’re here, right, and he’s probably here, and we should get him to hang out with us!

“Oh my god, Ranboo, that’s a brilliant idea!” Abruptly, Tubbo drew away, breaking his gaze. “Well, hold on, I dunno about this. If he wanted to be here, he’d be here.”

“You mean outside the Bee n’ Boo in the middle of the night?” Ranboo scoffed (or rather tried to scoff; the words had some difficulty getting out).

“Well, no--.”

“-- then let’s go find him!”

“I just don’t think he likes me much anymore.”

“No, no, no, that’s wrong. That’s not true actually.” The idea of the two being in any way apart was utterly baffling to Ranboo. “I mean I get why you might think that, but he’s your best friend, Tubbo.”

“He is my best friend,” Tubbo repeated, nodding slowly. “He was? He is.” He seemed to reach some conclusion in his mind and started up with renewed vigor. “Okay, yeah, you know what, boss man? We’re gonna go on the hunt for Tommy!” 

Ranboo cheered. “Let’s goooo!” 

“Tommy hunt!” 

“Tommy hunt!”

The two marched giddily off along the boardwalk, chasing after each other and jumping around clumsily. They had just reached the Tar-Gay when Tubbo abruptly pulled them to a halt.

“Wait.”

“... what?” Ranboo asked dimly, unsettled by the unexplained stop.

Tubbo fumbled for his comms unit. “His house. We should check if he’s at his house before goin’.” 

“Ah.” The taller nodded to display an understanding he in no way possessed. Conversation felt too smooth, too fuzzy… he couldn’t get a handhold in it. Like windows, like the windows, those windows.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to slide into the big man’s DM’s, Ranboo,” Tubbo intoned seriously, whipping out his communicator.

“We’re… good idea!” Ranboo swayed in place, laughing to himself. “We’re good idea, uh huh.”

He gazed in wonder at the colored windows of the Tar-Gay. They seemed to have some sort of intricate carving in them-- no, he looked closer and realized his eyes were casting distortions over the plain glass. The moonlight bounced in glorious rainbow rays off the display. 

Tubbo nudged him. He said something Ranboo couldn’t quite make out, but he found his body responding anyways, as if the information had skipped over his consciousness and gone straight to his nervous system. Clumsily, he, too, got out his comms. 

He concentrated on the keypad as he pressed down on it. The little imprints felt funny underneath the pad of his thumb. He pushed the sensation to the side and focused on delivering a message that was coherent and polite, yet cool at the same time. 

<Tubbo_ whispers to TommyInnit> tommmyyyyyyyy come get high with usss

<Tubbo_ whispers to TommyInnit> meet at dirt shithole habit hole

<Ranboo> hey tommy hope your night’s would you like to join

“Dude.” Tubbo snickered. “Private messages.”

“Oh,” Ranboo gasped. He flushed and typed out a harried amendment.

<Ranboo whispers to TommyInnit> didnt mean for whole sevre to now lmao

<Ranboo whispers to TommyInnit> anyways at ur house soon if ok okay?

“Welp,” Tubbo said, snapping his comms back into his pocket. “Now we jus’ gotta hope he checks his damn comms.”

Ranboo warbled a response. He was still pressing the buttons on his comms, obsessed with the feeling, the gentle give. He started walking again at Tubbo’s insistence, but he kept his head bowed down towards his comms. It impeded his movement, as he felt his brain getting tripped up in confusion of doing two tasks at once, yet Tubbo didn’t seem to mind, so he kept at it. By the time they’d braved the crisp night air and reached Tommy’s dirt hut, Ranboo had sent a series of carefully worded messages to two people, inquiring as to Tommy’s whereabouts.

Two to Techno, recalling the stories the piglin warrior had grumbled on about:

<Ranboo> techno you know how you have tha hole

<Ranboo> is tommy a racc oon again??

And a handful of follow-ups towards his avian companion, in which Ranboo confided his confusion regarding Techno’s capacity to hibernate for long periods of time:

<Ranboo> phil za minrcraft

<Ranboo> do yo know where tommy is

<Ranboo> think Techno’s hi bear nating he won t respond

<Ranboo> i didnt kno pigs did that

Satisfied, the half-Ender slipped his phone into his pocket and plopped down on Tommy’s front lawn.

Several impatient moments passed outside Tommy’s house. 

Ranboo busied himself with digging up and replanting the patch of poppies by his feet. He dug his fingers into the cool soil and uprooted the plants, roots intact, only to pad them back down into the soil a couple centimeters away.

Burying his hands in the loamy earth never failed to anchor him, and he was feeling particularly floaty right then. Not in that scary, volatile way where he felt as though his bones were hollow and the sky could swallow him at any second, but rather in a meandering, blurring sense. His perspective narrowed to the small realm of petals and dirt cradled in his palms. The tulips were so yellow. And the petals of the poppy, they were so soft , and their stems curved in such a delightful way!

He was holding life in his hands, perfect life, he thought. Holding the fragile blooms in his hand made him like the god of this plot. A benevolent god, he hoped, as he stroked their petals. With silk blankets made of flowers. And a lovely worker bee to tend to his needs. 

Smiling goofily, Ranboo selected a particularly robust blossom and extended it to Tubbo. “Pollen for buzz,” he explained, smushing it against the boy’s cheek.

Tubbo giggled and snatched the flower away. “Buzzzzzzzzz,” he trilled. “Buzz buzz, bitch. My flower now.”

Ranboo flopped onto Tubbo’s shoulder, cackling. “You buzz like da bee, Tubbo, Tubbeeeeee. Buzz like the lightyear! So fast.”

“Fuck yeah I do!” He startled at a ping from the comms in his lap. “Eyyyy, Tommy’s almost here. I told him where he could find us.” 

“Yayy!” Ranboo cheered. His voice, though still deep, had taken on a breathy, childlike canter to it, interrupted intermittently with chirps and squeaks. Ender-indicative traits like that were something he usually suppressed, but he struggled in the moment to recall any good reasons for that.

“You doin’ good, by the way? Scale from plink! to zoooooosshhh, right now, big man.”

“Uh… fshanth.” Ranboo scrunched up his face. “What?”

Tubbo nodded in approval. “Optimal. Look, he’s here-- Tommy! Tommy!” 

A shape Ranboo had noticed dimly by the edges of his vision took form from the context, as Tommy strode into the sphere of light the lanterns cast over his lawn. Ranboo gasped and leaned forward, flexing his hands in excitement. “Tommy! Hey!”

“Ayup!” The boy announced, grinning and strutting forward. “Yeah, yeah, the man of the hour has arrived. Please, calm yourself, boys.”

“Hi, Tommy, hey,” Ranboo cooed. “Hey, how are you? I haven’t seen you all day.” 

Tubbo gave a lazy salute. “Whassup, boss man.” 

“Wait, did I ask a question… or did you ask me one?” The Ender hybrid trailed off. “There’s a question that needs answering.”

He realized he’d interrupted Tommy’s response and put a clumsy pair of hands to his mouth. “Oh, me to you. Okay, go now.” 

“No fucking way.” Tommy’s jaw dropped. “Tubzo, I thought you two were having a go at me-- y’know, taking the ol’ mick-- but ohhh my god.” He strode forward to get a closer look at the two of them and rocked back in an explosion of laughter. “Man’s fucking ZOOTED. You’re absolutely baked, aren’t you, Ranboob? Oh my god, Prime above.”

The Half-Ender straightened up. He fumbled between a lie and pride for a little too long to make a good defense, and he was left with his mouth hanging dumbly ajar. 

“Yeah, uh-huh, exactly,” Tommy choked through his mirth. The boy held up a finger as he shook with laughter. Eventually, he settled into a smirk and crossed his arms, satisfied. “I’d tell you the red eye was a dead give away, but I think that’s a bit of a birth defect, pal.”

Once again, Ranboo registered the conversation’s progression several seconds late. “I was born--.”

“‘S like a ruby,” Tubbo commented blithely, angling Ranboo’s face towards his and cutting the taller off. “Ruby an’ an emerald, Ranboo, your eyes.”

“Oh, thank you.” 

“You’re very welcome.”

Tubbo looked over Ranboo’s face carefully, his attention having been thus diverted. Ranboo sat as still as he could manage while his husband ghosted his fingers over the scars. He didn’t want him to ask after them. This possibility worried him a moment, but he quickly got lost in the sensation of Tubbo’s calloused skin against his.

Tommy made a gagging motion, breaking the pair up. “Jesus Christ , will you two cut it out? You’re being all sappy n’ shit-- how much have you ‘ad?” 

“Bowl.” Tubbo leaned back into the grass.

“Each?”

“Nah. We shared.”

“Well, why didn’t you call me up, huh? Bit greedy, innit?”

“Di’n know where you were.” 

Ranboo looked up from Tubbo’s sprawl on the grass. He tilted his head, having begun to wonder where exactly Tommy had been and how this exclusion could be resolved so it didn’t happen again. If they knew where to look, they could’ve found him easier. If he stayed in Snowchester, for example, they could just knock on his door. But instead Tommy stayed away in who-knows-where, as though in self-imposed exile by night, all bravado by day.

Perplexion spread gradually over Ranboo’s features. 

“Tommy, why don’t you wanna stay with Tubbo n’ Michael n’ the others in Snowchester?” He blurted out. “Tubbo wants you to,” the teen continued, carelessly, “but he doesn’t wanna say it, ‘cause he thinks you’re mad at him, but you’re not, are you, that’s just how you act on the outside.”

Conversation stuttered to a halt.

When Tommy didn’t answer, Ranboo began sluggishly considering the fact that he had said something wrong, which struck him as odd, because he was being open and honest instead of keeping secrets, and wasn’t that what people wanted? 

Next to him, he felt Tubbo sit up, the flowers and grass shifting in his wake. His husband placed a hand of warning on his shoulder but held his tongue. He wanted to see Tommy’s reaction, too.

Ranboo flicked his gaze cautiously up. 

Tommy huffed and scoffed. He started, stopped, closed his mouth, then started again. “Well, it’s a shit biome.”

Tubbo took this as his cue to pat Ranboo’s shoulder and mutter, “Not now, ‘Boo.”

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it, big man.” He stood up. “Alright, Toms, if you’re so eager to come with us--”

“-- I’d say I’m actively becoming less eager with each second I have to spend around this dickhead--”

“-- then you can choose the smoke spot, kay?”

“Of course I’m gonna choose the spot, dumbass!” He exploded, spluttering melodramatically. “I ‘ave the best judgement, everybody knows that. Everyone says, all the ladies say, ‘Tommy knows the places to go’-- they say it just like that-- and it’s true, ‘cause I do, and I take them to the park, and then they go, ‘Well this is rather dull innit,’ and I tell them ‘no it is not I am very cool’-- because I am-- and then they leave.” 

“... What?” Ranboo breathed, squinting forward.

“Exactly, now let’s go,” Tommy said and turned on his heel.

Tubbo grinned and jogged off after Tommy as Ranboo stumbled belatedly to his feet. “Yeah, hurry up, slow-poke!”

“Where are we going?”

“Hotel!” Tommy hollered.

The Ender hybrid propelled himself forward with dazed protestations, feet slapping against the wooden planks. He struggled to keep up with the pair as they headed back in the same direction they’d come from. Luckily, he had the advantage of long legs, and Tommy had repaired the path recently. So long as he kept his eyes locked on the route right in front of him-- he swore he’d never seen such entrancing patterns in the wood-- and let the sounds of Tommy and Tubbo’s banter string him along, he’d make it just fine.

  He met back up with them by the entrance to the hotel, where they waited for him to fumble the gate closed. The building towered above him in bold red columns and wooden beams, divine rectangles reaching towards the block limit.

 Sam Nook appeared to be away for the moment, so the trio slipped in through the front door without any trouble.

Scaling the ladder, however, proved a more complicated task. Just looking up at that seemingly endless expanse of rungs filled Ranboo with trepidation. 

Tubbo patted him on the back.

“You go right on up, big man,” he said brightly. “I’ll be right behind you. Remember, if you go down, you’ll take me with you, so don’t you dare fall!” 

Ranboo grimaced and started up after Tommy. “Thanks.”

Luckily, with Tommy around, he didn’t have to simmer in that anxiety for long. The younger boy kept up a constant stream of chatter, complaining about this and that with an unfaltering zeal. Oddly, Ranboo found the teen’s griping comforting.

“--And now you take my smoke buddy from me too?” Tommy ranted. “I should’ve known, what with you holding all those grass blocks , Ranboob, blocks of grass, awful lot like weed wouldn’t you say?”

“... Sure?” Ranboo agreed. 

“Hey, get your feet out my fucking face!” Tubbo called up, slapping Ranboo’s heels lightly.

Ranboo’s tongue wasn’t cooperating enough to apologize, so he picked up the pace, making the most of his long arms and legs. The rungs beneath his hands were smooth, sturdy, and well-fashioned. He wanted to keep running his hands over the wood grain, but he had to settle in order to keep speed. 

Extend an arm, grip the rung, pull his body up, repeat. Extend, grip, pull, repeat. Each motion required more concentration than usual, as if he were climbing a ladder for the first time. 

It was a relief when they finally clambered out onto the top floor. 

Ranboo lay on the ground, shaken, and gazed around the room with lidded eyes. He spread his palm flat onto the cool, polished stone floor.

They were in an open, pristine penthouse, free from the clutter he’d expect of Tommy. Columns of wood and rich red supported the low quartz ceiling. The room was ringed with floor-to-ceiling windows, tinted a tasteful gray. The spotlessness of the room gave it that untouchable, impersonal hotel feeling. 

The furnishings were minimalistic, limited to a handful of essentials-- meticulously placed storage chests, ornate clothing hangers, a bathroom, a bed-- but each and every one of these essentials had clearly been chosen for their quality and simplicity. A white couch stretched around the perimeter of the room. Wherever he looked, he found himself facing a window.

And then he was facing Tubbo. Upside-down. The boy was kneeling over him and grinning through a mop of mussed brown hair. 

“Heyyy,” he crooned.

Ranboo’s brain took a few seconds to process the situation. Then, he started chuckling a low, breathless laugh. He reached up and touched Tubbo’s hair experimentally, feeling the locks in his hands, winding them about his fingers. The smile slowly fell off his face, replaced instead with a mute fascination. 

He giggled loopily. “Tubbooo.”

“Tubbo!” Tommy hollered from somewhere in the room (Ranboo couldn’t be bothered to tilt his head and discern where). 

“Tubbo,” Ranboo agreed.

“Tubbo!” Tubbo repeated.

“Tub-booo.”

“Wh-- get the fuck over here you two, jesus christ!” Tommy spluttered. “Holy fucking shit, I swear on Prime, this is like herding cats.”

“Stuff it, boss man,” Tubbo teased, pulling out of Ranboo’s field of vision. The Ender hybrid was very disappointed by this loss, until he felt the younger boy pulling at his sleeve. 

“Oh.” Ranboo struggled up, gripping onto Tubbo’s sleeve for support. “Me too?” He checked.

“Mhm. I think he wants us on the balcony, Boo.”

“Oh.” His face screwed up. “Why?”

“Dunno. It’s nice ‘n we can see the stars.”

“Oh, alright, that makes sense, that makes sense, I get it actually,” Ranboo mused, as he let himself be guided along. 

His head felt so nice, he realized with delight. It felt empty and floaty and floppy, like he had a balloon connected to his shoulders instead of a skull. Within the floatiness, though, there was a sort of magnetic pull, a dumb heaviness that played with his body’s mass. Gravity felt odd. He felt as though he could lean over and he’d simply melt like syrup into the floor, through the building, down to the deepest levels of the earth.

Before Ranboo really even processed it, the teen found himself on the balcony, leaning against a Tubbo who was desperately attempting to ease them both down.

“Oh, sorry,” Ranboo said lightly. “ See, I was--.” He eased himself off Tubbo and sat carefully onto the floor. “-- It felt all--,” he gestured vaguely, making sure the boy sat down next to him, “--and I thought you--.” He pointed at Tommy, at which point he lost track of what he was saying. “Uh. You…. yeah.” 

“Jesus,” Tommy snorted. 

At some point, Tubbo must’ve handed him the backpack, since he already had its contents laid out on the ground and had begun to pack the bowl, shaking his head in amusement. 

“Nice view,” Tubbo complimented. 

“Of fucking course it’s nice, man, it’s my fucking hotel, and it’s awesome.”

Ranboo rested his head on Tubbo’s shoulder, burying his face in the muff. He looked out over the greater SMP and into the jewel-studded sky as the other two talked aimlessly. He squinted at the buildings poking up from the horizon, carefully analyzing each one. They appeared dark and formless, disseminate blue forms, and he couldn’t make sense of the ramparts and roofs. 

At one point a flash of light came from where Tommy was sitting, and Ranboo flinched, but eventually, he let his eyes unfocus.

Tubbo said something the Ender hybrid couldn’t quite make out, but he thought he caught his name. “Hm?”

“I said, you good, big man? Up for more?” 

“No pressure,” Tommy added. Ranboo heard him stifle a cough. “Obviously, I’m not gonna be an asshole and force you into taking too much, man.”

“You’re nice, Tommy,” Ranboo mused, slowly lifting his head and smiling. “You too, Tubbo... Alright. Just a bit though.”

“Just a bit of niceness?” Tommy quipped. “Wait, no, no, fuck off, I’m not nice! You take that back, boob boy. I’m an intimidating man!” 

Ranboo wheezed and shook his head loosely. “No, no, no. Just a bit of the thing, of that thing, please.”

Tubbo sniggered and passed him the pipe. “Go nuts, dude.”

“Thank ‘ou,” Ranboo hummed. He focused all his attention on getting the pipe to his lips and his fingers over the carb and coordinated a deep inhale. It ended in a melodramatic spurt of coughing, as he handed it back off to the other two, throat burning and eyes watering.

Oh, his eyes were watering-- he wasn’t supposed to let that happen, was he? 

A sudden spark of anxiety compelled him to press his face into Tubbo’s wool hoodie and wipe his eyes against the soft mounds of fur. 

“Okay, you do you, silly,” he felt Tubbo mumble. Tommy laughed and said something about a cat.

The shorter boy’s hand rubbed smooth, absentminded circles into Ranboo’s back. Slowly, he lost himself in the motion, as his thoughts drifted elsewhere, yet nowhere. The teen felt as warm and heavy as one of Phil or Techno’s cloaks. Or rather he felt like he was being wrapped in one, he supposed, or leaning against one?

Everything was the warm cloak, he decided, contentedly. And the fireplace. And the soup. Nice and warm and safe and simple and warm and nice and comfortable. He snuggled closer into Tubbo, curling and folding and pushing himself into his husband’s warmth. 

The other two laughed, and he laughed along, without knowing why. 

The trio sat like that for some swirling, unquantifiable span of time. Tommy and Tubbo passed the bowl back and forth, while Ranboo sunk deeper into his high.

At one point, they picked up on the faint sounds of high-pitched electronic warbling from somewhere far below. Tommy got up to investigate.

“Tubbo?” Ranboo asked, lifting his head and frowning as he watched Tommy navigate to the railing. He didn’t understand the sudden movement. Were they going? He didn’t want to go yet. He was having so much fun. 

“S’okay, boss man, I gotcha, s’okay,” Tubbo reassured, patting Ranboo sloppily on the head, leaving the teen to wonder how much of that he’d said out loud. 

Tubbo’s pocket buzzed.

Tommy’s did as well. He squinted down over the railing then back at his comms, and his face lit up. “Oh my fucking god. Guys, guys, it’s Sam Nook.” He raised his voice. “Hullo, Sam Nook, hi there, hey!”

Tubbo cringed back from the sudden yelling, and Ranboo took that as a sign to pat Tubbo’s head back. 

Another round of high-pitched beeps, and their comms buzzed again.

“Oh, just being high, you know how it is, Sam Nook!” Tommy hollered, popping the consonants in the tanuki bot’s name. “High up in the air, in da penthouse , hm?”

More unintelligible tones and another buzz.

“It’s fucking marvelous, man, hats off to you!” The teen drawled in response. “Perfect for the boys, y’know, for Saturday night with the boys, eh?” 

Ranboo and Tubbo groaned. They both liked Sam Nook, but didn’t want him around here when they were… like this.

“Make ‘m go ‘way,” Ranboo muttered into Tubbo’s shoulder. 

Tommy was still making conversation with the android, leaning loose-limbed against the banister. “No, yeah, yeah, we’ll lock up and shit, we’re responsible men, we are. Uh huh. Yeah, I won’t touch it, pinkie promise, Samothy Nookiford.” He chuckled and shifted his feet, swaying slightly. 

“Spruce what? I don’t-- I’m gonna be honest, man, now’s not a great time, y’know, it’s all late ‘n shit, and don’t robots-- I know, uh, electric, uh… electric sheep do, right? Yeah! That’s a saying. So you too.” 

Tubbo stretched out a leg and prodded Tommy in the ankle. He glanced down and understanding flashed across his face.

“ Anyways , bye, Sam Nook! You’re the best, now get some rest. Dream of making this hotel even cooler! Yep! Got it, thank you.” 

The android delivered a farewell, and Tommy peeled back from the railing

“Ugh,” he groaned, plopping back onto the floor. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, man.” 

Ranboo, who hadn’t really been keeping up with the conversation, tugged at Tubbo’s ear. The younger tilted his head towards his husband. “Do we hafta go?” 

“No,” Tubbo answered. “Not if you don’t want to, Ranbooooo, Ranboo, Ranboo.” He giggled dumbly and swirled his hand through Ranboo’s hair. 

“Soft,” he commented.

“Mhm.” Satisfied, the Ender hybrid tucked back into Tubbo’s shoulder. 

A minute of comfortable silence passed before Tubbo spoke up again. “Wait. Michael.”

“Michael,” Ranboo agreed, smiling and burrowing.

“No, uh, Michael, man. He’s in his bedroom.”

“Michael in his bedroom, in his little bedroom, in his bed, little guy, baby boy,” Ranboo chuckled muffled into Tubbo’s parka.  

“Oh!” Tommy said, getting what Tubbo meant. “Here, here, don’t even worry about that, Tubzo. I’ll get it sorted.”

“Thank you, boss man.”

“Who’s at your dumb snow town again?” Tommy picked up his comms and flicked through his messages.

“ You’re dumb,” Tubbo retaliated. He paused and tried to remember first the question, then the information he could provide. “Oh, uh… hm, we’ve got, uh… oh, right, we’ve got Jack Manifold! And Puffy-- an’ her daughter, I guess-- an’ Foolish but only kinda.” 

Tommy made a face at the mention of Jack. “Fuck no. Puffy then.” He typed rapidly into his comms, snickering to himself at something he read.

“Okay, all handled, big man,” he said and extended his comms screen towards Tubbo and Ranboo as evidence.

<TommyInnit> AYO

<TommyInnit> CAPTAON PUDSY

<TommyInnit> PUSSY

<TommyInnit> need you to babysit the ugly pig baby

<TommyInnit> Michael 

<TommyInnit> just for the night

<TommyInnit> that would be very cool thanks pussy bye 

“Stop callin’ ‘er that, man,” Ranboo chuckled. “C’mon, man, stop callin’ ‘er that.”

“I do as I please.”

“Hey, gotta response,” Tubbo pointed out.

<CaptainPuffy> sure lol I’m on my way back to Snowchester now

<CaptainPuffy> you boys have fun

<CaptainPuffy> dont do anything I wouldnt do ;)

“Ah, sweet!” Tommy pumped his fist and took his comms back, still tapping away.

“Nice,” Ranboo muttered. “Nice, that’s nice, very nice. Isn’t she nice? I think she’s nice.” He snorted. “‘S not even a word anymore.”

Tubbo reached out and tried to tilt Tommy’s screen back towards them. “Hold up, wait, what’re you typing?”

“Nothing, fuck off!” Tommy said, jerking his hand away. “Just telling her how cool I am.”

“Show me!” Tubbo whined. The goat hybrid lurched forward and grappled for his friend’s comms.

Ranboo startled at the movement and drew himself up, watching the events unfold with wide, confused eyes. The night air wasn’t warm enough to sit alone. Crisp and clear, it leached onto his neck. The contrast in temperature felt electric. The Ender hybrid twitched and shrugged his shoulders reflexively. His body was too heavy for him to lift his arms into a self-hug. 

Why’d Tubbo have to move? He lamented. All he could do now was wait for the shorter boy to return from the scuffle. 

“Shove off, Tubbo, fuck you!” Tommy laughed, kicking at the boy, who headbutted him in response.

“Show me, show me, show me, you big softy!” He successfully wrestled control of the unit for a split second and scanned the chat history before tossing it back.

<TommyInnit> FUCK YEAH JSH _ HSNNHR

<TommyInnit> I meabm POG

<TommyInnit> GFUCK YOU TUBBI

“Ugh, fine,” Tubbo relented, sliding back in disappointment. “That wasn’t interesting at all. Asshole.”

Ranboo eagerly cozied back up to his husband, who patted him on the head. “You’re back!” He purred obliviously. 

Tommy snorted and finished the last few messages before setting his comms down. 

In a while, they’d move inside and flop down onto the king-size bed. Each a bit too far gone to make a show of asserting personal space, they’d resign themselves with no small amount of satisfaction to remaining a pile of limbs. Tommy and Tubbo would live up to their clingy titles, as would Ranboo. His legs and arms would resolve themselves from awkward cordones of muscle to boneless saplings, each an ample length for the others to cling to. Tubbo, prone to moving a lot in his sleep, would wind up splayed across the two at many points in the night.

All three of them would sleep deeper than they had in a while. By the time Ranboo would finally rouse the next day, the sun would already have climbed far into the sky, soaking the penthouse in late morning light. Tommy would be fully awake and ready to brush off any suggestion of affection. 

Looking back at the chat history, however, Ranboo would see his unabashed response to Puffy and smile.

<TommyInnit> srsly tho mega ultra big man thanks from me puffy 

<TommyInnit> btw he likes rhe bunny book

<TommyInnit> the one wit h the treee cover 

<TommyInnit> INNIT OUTIT

For now, though, the three contented themselves with idle conversation as they coasted on their highs. Ranboo let Tommy and Tubbo’s words slide away from him, slip through his fingers, past his ears, frictionless. The world was a divine liquid, yet it did not hurt him as water would. Rather, it cocooned him. He couldn’t be hurt here, he knew, in this hug, in this enclave of three. 

Tommy’s head was on Tubbo’s lap, back to the ground and hands clasped over his stomach. The boy was talking aimlessly about something-- it didn’t matter, but Ranboo caught the words “massive” and “hopping”-- as Tubbo carded a hand through his sandy hair. 

The balcony is the bench, Ranboo realized. Maybe it was larger and higher and crafted of stone, but the three of them were here, and they could see the horizon, so by their companionship, it was the bench. They made it together, wherever they were, no matter what was lost. Through explosions and turf wars, he had Tubbo and Tommy, and they had him. 

Whatever Tubbo decided to do next, wherever Tommy settled, they had each other. 

When he’d first come to this land, he’d been an outsider. He’d taken up residence in Tommy’s old house and tried to make sense of a community rebuilding itself after a tragedy he never witnessed. He took down notes and followed the cabinet around and tolerated dutifully their endless pranks. He travelled the Nether and left letters for the exiled and decorated for a festival. He made friends with everyone, but he wasn’t close with anyone.

And then it was gone, in a scratching cacophony of shouting and smoke and fear, and the battlefield was too open, for the withers flew above, but his room was too small, for the walls invited the voice, and even the memory caused him to clench up.

People left that land behind, finally giving up on the crater.

Ranboo had fallen into the good graces of the two most powerful people on the server, so he was invited to the tundra. 

And a scarred, carelessly inventive boy with soft ears and steadily growing horns and a smile that screamed mischief had fallen for him, so he was invited home. 

Home, where they had a son together. They lived-- together-- in a sprawling mansion filled with rooms that were theirs and theirs only. Safe and strong, designed and blessed by the benevolent (if foolish) deity of rebirth, the wooden building stood as a testament to their ability to bounce back and what more, to bounce back together . 

Swept up in a current of sentimentality, Ranboo sniffled, awash with a profound gratefulness. Dimly, he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. 

From above him, Tubbo’s voice permeated the swell. Ranboo felt the boy look down and ask if he was alright. The hair was brushed from his eyes.

Unable to put into words the grandness of his epiphany, the Ender hybrid simply tilted his head up and stared hazily at his husband. Slowly, he nodded.