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“What are you doing?” A small voice asks from behind Tommy and he sees Michael’s head upside down, peering down the trapdoor gap.
Tommy jumps and swears under his breath.
“Getting food. What’s it to you?” He knows this is Tubbo’s kid and he shouldn’t be mean, (hell, he shouldn’t even be in this house), but he just wants to grab some golden apples and go.
However, the child doesn’t seem offended at all.
“There’s better stuff there!” The child points to a chest hidden behind some wheat. Tommy examines the kid, and narrows his eyes. How Michael isn’t in pain from literally missing half his face and an eye, he’ll never know.
“Why would you help?” He asks suspiciously but goes to where he was pointing anyway.
“You’re one of dad’s friends! And I like your shirt,” he declares, and then disappears back upstairs.
Sure enough, in the chest are stacks and stacks golden carrots and golden apples, and Tommy eagerly stuffs as much as he can get away with into his pockets. He’s about to yank open the front door when he hears the voice again.
“Do you know where Uncle Foolish is?”
Tommy turns and looks up at the trapdoor with a scowl.
“No. Why would I?”
“He’s meant to be looking after me, but...” the piglin shrugs. “He’s not here yet.”
“So...?” Tommy fails to understand why that’s an issue, and makes to leave again.
“My dads won’t be happy I’m here alone, though. Can you stay?”
“Do you know how busy I am? I’m TommyInnit, I own a whole hotel - that I built all by myself, by the way - and... and I have women to get to!”
Michael’s eyes start to well up with tears and the teenager sighs, emptying the food back into the chest.
“Fine. Okay. The women can wait,” he grumbles and starts to climb the ladder. He didn’t want Michael to tell Tubbo that he’d made his son cry. Hey, maybe he’d even get paid for babysitting.
Michael’s room is exactly how Tommy imagined it would be. A big bed in one corner, bookshelves all around, and an obnoxious amount of family portraits. Hell, the kid even has his own pet chicken.
Could they rub in the happy family thing any more? He thinks when he views the paintings up close, and scrunches up his nose. Annoying.
“They’re my dads, and there’s me!” Michael reaches up to one of them, paying no mind to the look of distaste on the teen's face. “Isn’t it cool?”
“Yeah. Very,” Tommy replies, sarcasm lacing his tone, but the child doesn’t notice. He grabs Tommy’s hand and pulls him over to the table which is filled with sheets of paper and crayons.
“Draw with me!” Michael bounces up and down and the teen resists the urge to groan.
“Okay, okay.” He picks up a red crayon and draws a smiley face, and then scribbles over it when he realises what he did. He stops entirely when Michael copies him, vigorously scribbling on his paper and shaking the table. “Calm down, god. You’re so hyper.”
The scribbling stops but he’s still bouncing in his chair.
“Did you die?” Michael suddenly asks in innocent curiosity, and Tommy’s grip on his crayon tightens. “Dad said-“
“-Maybe," he interrupts before he can hear any more. “But I’m not talking about it with a kid. Or anyone.”
“Oh, okay,” is the response he gets and he’s surprised. Maybe this child isn’t so bad - he’s certainly more respectful than most of the people he’s re-met so far.
They both look up when they hear the front door open.
“Michael?” Tubbo calls.
“Here!” His son shouts back, and a few seconds later Tubbo appears at the top of the ladder.
“Tommy?! What-“
“I was just leaving,” Tommy says, sending paper flying onto the floor as he immediately stands up.
“Where’s Foolish? You didn’t kick him out, did you? I’ve never known you to babysit-"
“Foolish never turned up, according to your child here.”
“He’s called Michael,” but the elder grins.
“Child,” Tommy huffs.
“I appreciate the help, Tommy,” Tubbo says sincerely, and he doesn't question why he's here in the first place. “Michael seems to like you, you can stay if you want. I’m about to make dinner.”
“I’m super busy,” Tommy says, while thinking of all the reasons he really isn’t busy at all. The dirt hut is sort of a lonely place to return to.
“Oh, that’s a shame. You know, Ranboo won’t be back until-“
“Okay, I’ll stay,” he says quickly and Tubbo muffles a laugh.
“Is that really what your issue was?”
“No! I’m staying because I decided to. Not because you convinced me. Now I’m gonna use your anvil to fix my screwed up axe,” Tommy says matter-of-factly and goes downstairs without even waiting for permission.
“Whatever you say big man,” he calls after him. “Michael, what do you want for dinner? We have carrots, potatoes, some mutton probably left-“
“Potatoes!” Comes the instant reply from the colouring table.
“Potatoes are evil!” A shout rings out almost immediately from downstairs.
His one ear perks up, and he looks back at Tubbo.
"Actually, can we have carrots?"
“Yes, we can have carrots instead,” he laughs. “I’ll have to go the farm though, Tommy will keep an eye on you.”
Tubbo disappears, and Tommy reappears at the top of the ladder a moment later.
“Perfect timing!” He sits on the small chair opposite Michael, and an idea comes into his head. “Wanna learn something only big kids know?”
“What?” He puts down his crayons and Tommy grins when he realises he has Michael’s full attention.
“How to swear.”
~
“Shit!” Michael laughter rings through the house as he yells it. “Shit shit shit shit!”
“Yes!” Tommy yells in response, grinning widely. “Now try fuck.”
Michael giggles at Tommy’s over-pronunciation, and opens his mouth.
“Fu-“
The lock on the trapdoor clicks, and Tommy jumps up, pressing his hand over Michael’s mouth in a panic. He carries him across the room and places him down next to his crayons and shushing him. Then he quickly lays next to him and pretends to study his latest drawing, just as Tubbo’s head appears.
“What did Michael say...?”
“I’m learning-“ Tommy shushes him as subtly as possible and gives Tubbo his best TommyInnit smile.
“We’re learning colours.”
“Are you now,” Tubbo raises an eyebrow, and eyes Michael struggling to keep his mouth shut. “What did you teach him?”
“Uh... it... wasn’t me...?” He tries, but Tubbo is well aware it’s just a ploy for time. “Foolish actually popped in and gave him a lesson-“
“Tommy. What did you teach him?”
“I didn’t teach him! I literally just said Foolish-“
"Cut the crap. I know for a fact Foolish didn't come, because I would’ve seen him outside.”
“He was having fun...” Tommy looks at his feet. “Y’know, bonding time!”
“You can’t teach him that stuff at his age!”
“He needs it in case he gets bullied or something!”
Michael tugs on Tubbo’s sleeve then, and at his quiet words, Tommy’s suddenly certain he would die for this tiny thing.
"Papa, don't be mad at him.. I asked him to show me.”
“Michael-“ he begins but Tubbo cuts him off with a glare.
“-Just have your carrots Michael, and go play. It's okay, me and Tommy are just talking. Promise me you won't do it again though, okay?"
Michael bites into his carrot and nods guiltily, and then runs back to the table to draw some more.
Tommy is genuinely worried. Angry Tubbo is rare.
“This means I’m in trouble, huh...?”
He tries with a smile but it dissolves.
Tubbo sighs, looking increasingly tired. “You know you shouldn’t teach him that stuff. It doesn’t matter if it’ll help him or not."
It’s said in a surprisingly calm tone, and he hands Tommy some carrots.
“I- what?” He just looks at the carrots. “I’m not kicked out?”
“Why would I kick you out? You’re my friend, Tommy.”
“Yeah but I also sorta corrupted your kid- actually, nevermind. I’ll take it.”
They both munch on their carrots for a moment in silence, the only sound being that of Michael’s crayons scratching on the paper.
“Tubbo...?” Tommy treads carefully after what’s just happened, but he needs to know. “Are... are you really my best friend?”
“What?” Tubbo stares at him like he’s just told him Ranboo went for a swim. “Where did that come from?”
“It’s just... you’re married. Like, literally bound to Ranboo for life. Until you die. That’s pretty important stuff, so am I still your best friend?”
“Tommy... that’s a weird way of putting it-“
“Answer the question.”
"Why wouldn't you be my friend? Just because I'm married doesn't mean I can't have friends.”
“Your best friend, Tubbo. We used to be best friends, or did you forget?”
“Tommy, stop.”
“No! I die and suddenly you.... you’re scared of me. And you’re married! And I’m just wiped from your life.”
“Michael is here,” Tubbo tries, and the piglin looks at them both.
“And? He needs to know friendship is important and not something you just... get rid of.”
“I haven’t gotten rid of it!”
“I died. And I’ve been replaced with... some enderman guy? Who you’ve known for way less time than you’ve known me.”
“He’s my fucking husband, Tommy! And just because he’s important doesn’t mean you automatically aren’t.”
“So answer it then! Are you my best friend?”
“Yes, Tommy,” but he avoids eye contact.
Tommy snaps.
“Are you sure? If I died again, Tubbo, would you actually give a damn? Or do I just have to accept that this is how it’ll be now. You and Ranboo and Michael in the portraits. And maybe if you look closely you’ll see me in the background. This is worse than exile because you’re right here with me and you’re still not seeing me!”
Tubbo looks at Tommy, then at the portrait. Then at Michael who’s gingerly wandered over to touch it like he always does.
He takes a breath and focuses on his “best friend”’s face.
"What was I supposed to do, Tommy...?” He starts. “Accept the fact that my best friend got murdered in prison? By Dream. I was willing to sacrifice my life for you! And the one who was gonna take it away was the same man who took your last life away. You’re lost and confused but so am I! I thought you were dead and now you’re not and I don't even know what's true anymore, or what what believe....” Tubbo trails off when he sees the piglin staring at him. “Michael, please stop looking at me like that....”
Michael does, even though seeing his father upset is confusing for him. Instead he focuses on a compass hanging out of Tommy’s pocket, and he watches it spin and spin.
That’s weird, isn’t it? He thinks to himself. He remembers the compasses that he sees other people use, and they all point to one place.
“I... I’ll be back...” Tommy decides to say simply, and heads through the trapdoor before either of them can question.
He can’t keep talking without thinking, it’ll make it so much worse.
The second the wood bangs shut, Tubbo breaks, and his son is immediately clinging onto his leg to comfort him.
"Sorry Michael...,” he manages, panicking slightly when he remembers he’s still there. This wasn't supposed to happen.
“Just go get ready for bed, okay? I'll be fine, thank you."
~
TommyInnit doesn’t cry.
It’s a well known fact.
Right now, standing on the balcony of his best friend’s house, he isn’t crying. It’s just the snowflakes melting on his face.
He swears it.
~
Ranboo doesn’t expect to see two gamertags inside the house. He can’t see exactly who they are from where he is, but that’s unusual nonetheless, especially this late.
He approaches the house, and then he focuses on... is that Tommy, outside?
That’s something new, and his expression changes to one of confusion, and then concern when he sees the tear tracks on the younger’s face.
"Hey Tommy, you good?"
The blonde boy doesn’t answer, too trapped in his head.
There’s a sizzling sound as Ranboo opens the door and takes off his coat - a few snowflakes hit his skin.
“Tommy...?”
“Tubbo’s in there,” is the cold and short response he gets. So he doesn’t push. Clearly something has happened between the two, and Ranboo prays it isn’t to do with him.
“Come inside if you get cold, yeah...?”
“Mhm.”
He accepts that’s all he’ll get, but he leaves he door open for him.
“Tubbo?” He sees his husband sitting on the floor under the ladder with his knees pulled up to his chest, his head resting on them.
Ranboo immediately sits next to him, a little awkwardly because he’s a lot taller.
“Can I...?” He extends his arms out, asking for permission for a hug, and Tubbo gives a small nod.
The feeling of arms wrapping around him just sets Tubbo off again, uncurling his legs and sobbing against Ranboo’s chest.
He doesn’t really know why he’s crying - it was Tommy who got hurt the most.
“My fault...” he manages.
"No No No, its not your fault, whatever happened wasn't your fault,” he rubs small circles on Tubbo’s back, wincing when tears would land on his skin.
“Maybe you should talk...? It doesn’t seem like you have, at least not when you’re thinking clearly.”
Tommy finally heads back in, not able to put up with the cold anymore. He ignores them both and sits himself on top of a crafting table, not even managing a smile at the implication.
"I don't know, Ranboo... I think he's mad at me...”
Tubbo doesn’t notice that Tommy has come inside, but he’s beginning feel better with the comfort of Ranboo. It doesn’t stay for long, though - it starts to makes him feel more guilty, especially with the quiet hiss of the water on his skin.
Tommy looks up quickly and then returns to fidgeting with his hands.
“M’ not mad,” he says quietly, but there’s still no reaction from his friend.
Ranboo’s eyebrows crease and he looks at Tommy, and then back at Tubbo.
"He doesn’t- didn’t look mad, when I saw him... outside. Everything will work out, okay? It always does. Tommy's your best friend,” he smiles. He knows Tommy hates him for 'stealing Tommy’s best friend' but that was never what he wanted to do. It makes him upset, especially in moments like this, but he pushes it down to focus on Tubbo.
Tommy feels weird, just sitting there. He feels like he’s intruding even though the conversation is about him and Ranboo knows he’s there.
He can’t take it anymore, and does a terrible fake cough to get their attention.
Tubbos head moves instinctively to where the sound came from, and when he sees the source, he goes slightly red.
“Would you look at that, it’s exactly 10:58 so it’s Michael’s bedtime story at this very specific time-“ Ranboo says quickly and lets go of Tubbo (not before giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze) and makes his way up to Michael’s room to give them both space.
"Hi... Tommy...” Tubbo says quietly when he’s gone.
The younger doesn’t respond, focused on crossing and uncrossing his fingers.
"A bit awkward here, huh?” He tries again.
Tommy’s mouth can’t help but pull into the slightest smile and he dares to glance up.
“Yeah. Just a little.”
Tubbo scratches his head and looks sheepish.
“Soooo.. about that... I'm sorry, Tommy,” he looks away once again, avoiding eye contact.
Tommy swallows thickly and stands up. Tubbo does too.
Apologies are not his thing.
Luckily, he’s saved.
Tubbo walks up to the blonde and, gosh this is awkward, but he feels like it has to be done.
Tubbo hugs Tommy, tight.
“Uh.... I’m....” Tommy mumbles as he gathers his words, but he hugs back nonetheless.
They stay like that for a moment, in silence, until Tommy takes a breath. And all his thoughts pour out at once.
“I’m sorry for getting defensive and basically nearly ruining our friendship and I understand that you’re with Ranboo now and I’m not gonna be a child anymore because I have to accept that and- and-“
Tubbo pushes him back with his hands on Tommy’s shoulders, and laughs lightly when he has to suck in air after his little speech.
“It’s okay, big man. You don't have to explain yourself to me, I know you've been through a rough time lately.”
“Rough time,” Tommy laughs back. “Yeah, that’s about it.”
“You know you’ll always be my best friend, Tommy.”
“I know.”
Neither of them notice the compass, having been flung to the corner of the room during their embrace, but if they had, they’d have seen it finally stop spinning.