Chapter Text
“Theseus,” Techno said, voice low but not angry or accusing, “do you know him?”
Ranboo felt like the world had just turned on its axis and flipped everything upside-down. There, standing in the fancy giant Craft house like he’d lived there his whole life, was Tommy.
Tommy, who had a solid B average, skipped English class all the time, melted at the sight of cows. Tommy, who made an entire costume just for Spider-Man made of expensive fabrics, who somehow managed to get his hands on nano-technology.
Tommy, who was apparently Theseus Craft, the mysterious and unknown youngest child of the Craft family, who people weren’t even sure existed in the first place.
It felt like a giant puzzle clicking together, but Ranboo didn’t understand why Tommy didn’t tell him. “Surprise…?” Tommy said weakly, but his body language just seemed to scream defeat.
Wilbur’s head was tilted, as though he were trying to figure something out, while Techno just looked stiff and awkward. “Techno, you don’t mind if I take your dear student for a private conversation, do you?” Tommy asked with a tight-lipped smile.
“Mate, why didn’t—”
“Alright, let’s go!” Tommy quickly interrupted Phil by grabbing onto Ranboo’s arm and forcefully dragging him out of the dining room, walking up a couple sets of stairs up to the top floor of the house. Was it the third floor? The fourth? Ranboo lost count after enough walking.
The room was smaller than Tubbo’s, but that was probably because of a giant “KEEP OUT” door on the other side. Still about five times the size of Ranboo’s, but he wasn’t about to complain.
Unlike Tubbo’s elegant, lavish bedroom, courtesy of the mayor, Tommy’s was fancy in a different way, with high-tech gadgets all over, everything sharp and geometric, with egg-like chairs hanging from the ceiling, a gigantic red bed that looked to be slightly raised off the ground, and when he pressed a button, the bed lifted up to reveal a space under it with a couch, some chairs, and a computer.
Ranboo resisted the urge to mutter a disdainful “rich people” under his breath, because Tommy looked uncharacteristically fragile at the moment.
Instead, Ranboo watched as Tommy struggled to take a deep breath. “Shit—fuck!” the boy hissed, and then he looked over at Ranboo with haunted and empty eyes. Tommy… why are you hiding this? What’s going on?
“Tommy, I’m not mad,” Ranboo said truthfully, because he was feeling a lot, but angry wasn’t one of them. Why would he get upset at Tommy for keeping secrets when he’s keeping one just as big?
Tommy stuffed his face into a nearby pillow and groaned loudly in response. Ranboo waited patiently for the blonde to finish screaming into his pillow, wracked with guilt about how he just figured out Tommy’s huge secret, and he was still keeping some.
“My family’s weird,” Tommy finally said, voice muffled by the pillow still, “they always act like—like they’re above human life. I’ve had access to Craft Labs for most of my life, but I have this weird feeling, like they’re not telling me something, you know?”
Tommy then lifted his face up from the pillow, looking up at Ranboo with eyes that were wide and afraid, something nobody should feel about their family. “Shit just isn’t adding up, and I don’t think they can tell that I know something’s wrong, and they’re content to live the rest of their lives keeping whatever this is from me! They know how much I fucking hate it when things are kept from me!”
Ranboo had to try really, really hard not to wince there, instead nodding sympathetically and giving Tommy’s back a few friendly pats. “What do you think they’re hiding?” he asked, and Tommy flopped back dramatically.
“Fuck if I know! Phil’s always on ‘business trips’, Techno always leaves for days at a time to ‘hang out with friends’ even though I know damn well he doesn’t have any friends, and Wil—”
Tommy swallowed and clenched his fists before turning to Ranboo, his blue eyes more serious than he’d ever seen them before. “Ranboo, I’m going to tell you something, and you have to swear that it never leaves the walls of this room,” he said, voice low and threatening.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Ranboo vowed.
Tommy sighed and casted a glance toward his bedroom door, which was absolutely absurd distance. “When Wilbur was younger, he was having trouble sleeping, so Phil tried to make some sort of remedy for it. The technology wasn’t as advanced as it is now, though, and he… he messed Wilbur up, big-time. Now, whenever Wil falls asleep, he does some creepy astral projection shit, and there’s a ghost in his place that wanders around, except it’s not really Wilbur, it’s more like a super childish version of him.”
Is that even possible? Ranboo thought, his jaw having dropped significantly. “You know, I can see now why you think the rest of your family is keeping secrets,” he muttered, and Tommy let out a loud bark of laughter, screeching and perfect and just so Tommy.
“I just… I didn’t want you or Tubbo to think any different of me,” Tommy admitted, his cheeks dusted a light pink color out of embarrassment, “I mean, you know, since my family has been in some controversial shit, especially their continuous beef with the Hermit magazine.”
That was absolutely absurd, and Ranboo needed to get Tommy out of that mindset as soon as possible, no room for anything else. “Tommy, your family doesn’t decide who you are,” he said, putting a hand over Tommy’s heart and giving him a lopsided smile.
“Since when were you the fancy pep-talk guy?” Tommy joked, always one to keep the situation lighter than it actually was.
“Since you were an heir to a giant science and technology company,” Ranboo teased back, and Tommy chuckled weakly before a comfortable silence settled between the two of them.
It was relaxed, like a tension neither of them knew was there had just been released, and then, all of a sudden, Tommy whirled around to face Ranboo. “Hey, wanna see my lab?” he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.
What…?
A lab?
Oh, Tubbo was going to freak out when he found this all out.
Tommy walked over to the giant “KEEP OUT” sign, flipped it over, and opened the door just wide enough for the two of them to slip in. Once they got inside, Tommy turned on a lightswitch to reveal a—
What.
The hell.
It was probably the size of Tommy’s regular bedroom, filled with bubbling chemicals and whirring technology, the gentle humming of machinery sending Ranboo into an almost tranquil state as he looked around.
Bulletin boards and blueprints were scattered around, with news articles about Spider-Man and little notes scrawled all over. If it were anyone else, Ranboo would have been unsettled by the fascination with his alter ego, but this was Tommy, and he knew it was genuine curiosity, no strings attached.
“Don’t tell me you’re secretly a genius chemist.” Ranboo deadpanned, and Tommy’s sheepish grin was enough to tell him everything he needed to know. “Am I the only normal one?”
It was a lie, a blatant one, but Tommy had no clue, and the boy just laughed. “Yeah, but that’s what makes you special, boob boy!” he said, and surprisingly enough, it didn’t feel teasing or mocking.
It was always Tubbo, the prodigal son of the mayor, with his youthful face and bashful smiles that made news teams “aww” at the way he shyly hid away from people trying to take pictures of or dig up dirt on the mayor, who was secretly a tech genius who funnels just enough money into charities to not raise suspicions from his father, who had a love for explosives and a soft spot for cats and a love for coffee.
It was always Tommy, who was a little mysterious but hid it under a loud and boisterous exterior, who took the most breath-taking pictures with his cameras, who could talk about cows for hours on end, who was secretly some sort of genius chemist who worked at a fabric shop and sewed in his free time.
It was never Ranboo, the boring son of a regular police officer, the youngest of three boys, with two older brothers that could arm-wrestle each other into the sun (and, while he’d ever admit it out loud, Foolish would probably be the one to win), who didn’t really have any interesting hobbies.
But now it was Ranboo, who was secretly Spider-Man, the first (and only) superhero in L’manberg, the hero with quick-witted quips and superpowers, the hero who just wanted to help around wherever he could, who never signed up for evil villains but would face them anyways.
I’ll tell you one day, Tommy, I promise, he vowed silently, as Tommy opened up different cabinets and showed him super cool chemicals that “would make even Tubso shit his pants!”.
It wasn’t until they heard a knock on the bedroom door, not the lab door, that Tommy dragged Ranboo out of the lab and sat him on the floor before going to the bedroom door and opening it, revealing Techno, who was shuffling his feet awkwardly.
“Ranboo, do you have a minute?” he asked, thin glasses threatening to slip off his face. Ranboo was briefly brought back to an interview someone did with Dr. Soot, where the man had explained through peals of shrieking laughter that his glasses were actually fake, but his brother’s were real.
Ranboo followed Techno to the hallway, where the man huffed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. “Sorry for all of this,” he apologized vaguely, “Wilbur’s weird questions, the surprise that you actually know Theseus, it must have been a lot for you.”
The media would have a field day with this—Dr. Blade showing emotion? Apologizing? Being incredibly awkward and terrible at social situations? They’d go nuts.
“However, Phil didn’t totally believe me when I said you were my student, so he wanted me to, uh, take our studying sessions here, at the house. Obviously, we don’t have to actually study, but if you want, we could just hang out in the library for a couple hours.”
Upon seeing the look of disbelief on Ranboo’s face, Techno misinterpreted it and immediately backpedaled his words. “That is, if you still want to do this. You can, uh, call it off, if you want, I won’t be mad, I totally get it,” the last few words were mumbled, but Ranboo understood the gist.
Did Techno… like spending time with him?
How would Techno react to him being Spider-Man? He seemed passively neutral, if not a little uncomfortable, when the topic was brought up at dinner, but who knows, maybe he could have just had a weird reaction to the food at that moment?
“Yeah, uh, I don’t mind!” Ranboo replied, just as awkward, and the two of them made eye contact with pretty much everything except each other in the hallway.
There was a beat of silence before Techno started speaking again. “Wednesdays, six in the evening,” he said, leaving no room for rejection.
“Oh! Um, sure, yeah, that sounds good!” Ranboo said with a smile, and Techno’s lips twitched upwards just the tiniest bit.
The bond between two awkward idiots was strong, it seemed, and Techno turned around and walked away, and Tommy snickered from behind. “Damn, you must’ve made a really good impression,” he noted, and then grinned toothily up at Ranboo.
“It’s nice to not have that weight on my shoulders anymore,” Tommy confessed, and then he looked at his watch, “oh, it’s past eight! You have swim practice, right?”
Oh, shit, I do! It’ll have to be a short patrol if I want to hang out with Dream later tonight…
As Ranboo started gathering his things to leave, Tommy quickly grabbed onto his arm, and he looked back to see big blue eyes staring up at him. “Um, I don’t really do this emotional stuff, but… thanks for not getting mad about this—and thanks for, just everything, really.”
Ranboo knew the ins and outs of Tommy’s personality well enough to know that this was the equivalent of getting an enormous speech dedicated solely to his graciousness, so he just fist-bumped his friend and prepared to leave the Craft household.
Phil told Ranboo he was welcome back whenever he’d like, and Techno’s ears went a little pink from embarrassment, but it was a nice gesture. An empty one, Ranboo knew, as he knew just how busy all of them must be—for everyone to eat meals together is honestly a little shocking. Is it bad that he felt a little jealous of that?
Part of Ranboo missed being a little kid, back before the police department was under-staffed, when Puffy could eat meals with Dream, Foolish, and Ranboo, her pride and joys, her little ducklings, special in their own ways. He missed Puffy’s poorly cooked meals, half-burned meatloaf, the tears brimming in her eyes the first time she came home late to see all three of her sons in the kitchen cooking up a decently edible meal.
Tonight was fairly quiet as Spider-Man. Was everyone having family dinners or something? He stopped a car thief, some grave robbers, and helped an old man cross the street, but besides that, it was relatively boring. Maybe this would be a “the public and stans rave over new photos of Spider-Man” type of night.
“Excuse me, Spider-Man?”
Ranboo frowned from the construction crane he was sitting on. Normal people couldn’t reach this, so why was he hearing someone in front of him? In the open air? Blinking open his eyes through the mask, Ranboo stifled a scream when he saw the sight in front of them.
Floating in the air was a translucent man with gray skin and pure blue eyes that seemed to drip with a strange blue substance. He wore a soft yellow sweater, black sweatpants, and fluffy blue sheep slippers, with fluffy gray hair. A curl of something weird reared its head in Ranboo’s gut, and the person looked so familiar, exactly like…
“Wilbur?”