Chapter Text
"Tommy! Ranboo! My friends!" A brunette who sat on a picnic bench yells out, waving his hands wildly.
Tommy grins, waving back just as wildly, while his other hand holds his bag with the muffin. Ranboo, next to him, smiles and gives a small wave.
As they near, he takes note of the weird bowl that Tubbo seems to be mixing. It's a weird green color, with smoke coming out of it. Smells like shit too.
......
Wait….
Don't tell him…...
'Is Tubbo making crack?!' And he didn't even invite him! Betrayal!
"Tubbo! Are you making drugs without me, bitch!?" He yells, pressing a hand over his heart in mock hurt.
"Nope," Tubbo pops the P. Giving him a mad grin as he mixes harder, "I'm actually trying to make a stable version of azidoazide azide."
His mind blanks out, "azi- what now?"
"Azidoazide Azide."
"That's what I said."
"I-," Tubbo sighs, sometimes giving up without a fight is beneficial, like now. Especially when he's talking with Tommy.
"Anyway," Tommy tilts his head, curiosity taking hold of his mind, "why'd you call big T?"
Tubbo, in a blink of an eye, brightens, seeming to forget the moments prior, and leans over the cauldron dangerously, "I heard that you decided to talk back to Mr. Minecraft! Is that true?"
'Oh? Word sure travels fast.' He grins and puffs out his chest, haughtily saying, "ya, I did."
Tubbo laughs, still mixing the now boiling liquid, "what did you even tell him?"
He, nonchalantly, waves his hand, rolling his eyes, "just asked him who would win - An angel or a demon?"
Tubbo and Ranboo both freeze, looking at him like he just grew two heads. He stares back, now bewildered by their reaction. Should they not be exclaiming how much of a genius he is to distract Mr. Minecraft with a simple question?
Tubbo is the first to move, practically throwing himself to the ground, cackling.
"You asked a literal angel who would win?! Do you have a death wish!" Ranboo squeaks, looking constipated, as he grips his hair.
'Wow, that looks painful.'
"Well, I wouldn't call him an angel," he mutters, looking at where the wooden table once was, now just goo due to Tubbo spilling the weird concoction he had been mixing as he fell.
Hmm, now that he thinks about it? The goo suspiciously smells like, "hey, Tubbo, were you trying that monster energy trend? You could've just said that instead of that azi- bullshit thing."
He tuts, "I wouldn't judge, man."
Tubbo and Ranbo, once again, immediately stop their movement and go quiet, both sending him a blank stare.
Now that he thinks about it, they seem to do that a lot…..
"You dare compare my genius to-," Tubbo starts but is subsequently cut off by a ringtone suspiciously sounding like a remix of the able sisters.
Hold up, able sisters? Tommy looks next to the now pile of goo where his phone lays, miraculously not touched by any of that weird monster energy acid.
[Wilbur Soot is calling…..]
His phone oh so helpfully displays.
"And that's my cue to leave," he picks up his phone and waves goodbye, ignoring how Tubbo somehow manifested a test tube and some gloves.
Tubbo - who is glaring at him as he shoves some of the goo into the thin test tube, daring him to say anything.
Which he's not? Who's he to judge his friend's weird obsession with the monster energy goo, not him, that's for sure. Judging is for boys, not for men like him.
"Sanitize that if you're going to eat it, big man." He walks away, satisfied, still holding his muffin. Ya, now that he thinks about it, he's such a great friend.
.
(Once Tommy is out of hearing range, Tubbo throws his hands up in exasperation, "he's a fucking idiot, Ranboo."
Ranboo pats his back, "he's just not the brightest, Tubbo."
He beckons to the table aggressively, "I decimated a picnic table! And I purposely collected samples in front of him!"
Ranboo sighs and sends his platonic husband a dead look, "well, he's trying - and I think that's all that matters." Secretly, he also agrees with Tubbo.
Tubbo grumbles, watching the back of his best friend disappear as he takes a turn. "At this point, I don't even know how he even survives.")
.
Tommy presses the phone towards his ears and skips the pleasantries, "I have a reasonable reason why I skipped school."
He catches the sound of whales in the background before it's cut off by a soothing voice, "you know, Tommy. When I said you can use my number for school, I didn't think I'll be getting calls every other day due to you skipping."
"Well, you see, big man," and with the utmost confidence says, "I hate P.E."
It goes quiet on the other side.
"Tommy, I fucking swear," Wilbur curses, and damn, he could just imagine his face getting purple. (Which now that he thinks about it, how much purple blush does Wilbur wear? At least it's a look.)
"Oh, would you look at that! This was a great talk," he really doesn't want to deal with this shit right now, "not really. So I'll call you back in two hours when you've calmed down, big man. Tell Fundy that I said hi. And kindly fuck off." He ends the call without waiting for a response and puts his phone on do-not-disturb. Immediately after, he watches in amusement as his screen reads Wilbur's number but makes no noise.
How peaceful.
.
(Wilbur groans when he hears the sound of Tommy hanging up. What the heck is he going to do with that kid?
And now that he thinks about it - isn't he forgetting something?
"Papa!" A high-pitched voice yells before he feels someone hug his legs. Looking down, he meets the yellow eyes of his eight-year-old child - Fundy.
"Yes, my little champion?" He laughs out, feeling content with the moment as he runs his hands through his son's hair.
His son, on the other hand, pouts, not having the same sentiment, as his tail and ear pressing down, "why did you turn off the whale audio? How am I supposed to sleep?"
"Ah," right, he had turned off the whale audio that his son liked so much just to talk to Tommy. A shame that he can't tell Fundy that the whales in the audio are just them talking about how they want to get plowed. Because, as his immortal father put it, he's too young to know that.
"Why don't I just sing you to sleep?" He offers, not willing to go back to hearing the equivalent of whale porn on full blast.
"But that's cheating! You're a literal siren!"
"You wound me, Fundy.")