Chapter Text
@spotifyinnitt | TommyInnit’s Spotify
tommy is currently listening to enough for you by olivia rodrigo!
@spotifyinnitt | TommyInnit’s Spotify
he hasn’t stopped listening to olivia rodrigo and radiohead since last night what the hell is going on
@alliumupdates
hello ??? tommy r u okay?? /hj
@TubboTWO
lmao oop
***
Tommy hated this. On one hand, he had finally figured out his feelings for Ranboo–he really liked the guy. Like, like liked the guy. He felt like a schoolgirl, head buried into the pillows of Tubbo’s guest room blasting teenage angst music on max volume. However, he didn’t really know what else to do.
I’m so stupid, he lamented as he flipped over to stare at the ceiling, I literally just left Ranboo there–right after a fake fucking kiss. I’m so dumb, dumb, dumb! He rubbed his face angrily, blinking away the tears in his eyes.
How was Tommy supposed to face Ranboo now? The guy literally was just in this stupid fake relationship with Tommy because the blond had slipped up. Now Tommy had gone and made things worse, actually catching feelings for the American. Maybe I can just pack my things and go back home, he contemplated, and Ranboo can hang out with Tubbo. I fucked everything up, anyways.
Tommy was torn away from his self-flagellation when a loud knock came from his door. “Open up!” Tubbo called, “I’m crashing your stupid pity party!”
With a groan, Tommy dragged himself out of bed and to the door, opening it just enough for Tubbo to slip in before closing it right back up. “What?” He frowned, “and it’s not a pity party.”
“Dude,” Tubbo looked unimpressed, “you’ve holed yourself up here for the past, like, 12 hours. Have you even eaten?”
Tommy didn't respond, because he’d been caught–this was definitely a pity party. Instead, he just asked, “so what are you here for, Tubs?”
His friend plopped next to him on the bed, leaning back on the pillows as though the room was his own (well, it kind of was, but Tommy was staying there for the time being so it was, therefore, his bed, since that’s how things work. Obviously). “You’re my best mate, Tom,” Tubbo then said in earnest, and Tommy was a bit caught off guard by the sudden lack of casualty.
“And you’re mine, Tubs,” Tommy assured, “but what in the world do you want?” His music had been put on pause so that they could talk and Tommy was sorely missing the melodies already.
“You’re my best mate,” Tubbo repeated, “but I am sick and tired of your unnecessary teenage angst.” Tommy made a face at that, but the brunet just continued, “you are going to tell me everything, and I am going to fix this. I wanted to stay out of it and let you and Ranboo sort things out on your own but my services are needed, so spill.” He instructed.
Tommy, despite being filled with questions, complied and began to tell Tubbo everything.
***
“Okay,” Tubbo said once Tommy had finished his saga, “so let me get this straight. Somewhere along the line, you began developing romantic feelings for Ranboo–”
“Yep.”
"–and so you then went through a whole sexuality crisis–one you’re not entirely finished with, might I add–before deciding that yes, you definitely like guys as well as girls, and now you want to pursue an actual relationship with Ranboo–”
“–but he doesn’t like me back,” Tommy chipped in–because, in all his 17 years of living, no one has ever liked Tom Simons back.
“Okay,” Tubbo said, unimpressed but didn’t seem to dwell on it as he continued recounting what Tommy had told him. “So you don’t want to screw up what you already have by confessing but at the same time you continue to fall for him more and more every time he does something like, oh–I don’t know–kiss you?”
“It was a fake kiss,” Tommy reiterated, “it didn’t mean anything.”
Tubbo didn’t seem to buy it, “it obviously mattered to you, dumbass.” He asked, “why don’t you just talk to him? Ranboo is a good guy, he’s not going to get mad or anything. Plus, he might even like you back!”
The younger teen shook his head, “no way. Ranboo is way out of my league. He’s like, perfect and charming and deserves the best and only the best,” he insisted.
“So you’re scared is what you’re saying.” Tubbo surmised.
Tommy decided to drop the act, “I’m fucking terrified, man.”
With a tired sigh and a fond shake of the head, Tubbo got up from the bed and started walking to the door. “Change into something warm, Tommy. We’re going out.”
“Wh–”
“No questions,” Tubbo shushed him. “I have something I need you to help me with, and you don’t get to refuse. You’ll be blindfolded and shit from as soon as you get downstairs. No complaints, either. I’ve got a surprise for you and you need a goddamn distraction.”
Tommy couldn’t really find it in him to argue, and a distraction did sound like a good way to get his mind away from his… situation–plus Tubbo gave him no way to object–so he resigned himself to his fate and started getting dressed in some warmer clothes and a windbreaker.
When it came to Tubbo, Tommy never knew what to expect. The short boy was a spitfire with a sense of chaos that rivaled Tommy’s own. It was a bit frightening to be told nothing other than to dress warm and that he’d be blindfolded, but Tommy trusted Tubbo. The brunet always came through at the end of the day–he was a really good friend, and so Tommy trusted Tubbo with his secrets (and not-secrets, and just general issues). So now he trusted Tubbo to not kill him. Or something.
***
Tubbo is totally about to kill me, Tommy thought to himself panickedly as he felt the wind buffet his face. He didn’t know much of where he was–because Tubbo had added earplugs to the mix last minute and now Tommy couldn’t see or hear anything–but he could tell he was on a boat. In the water. With his hands bound, might he add. Has he been planning to murder me this whole time? His thoughts were hysteric and only half-joking.
He could smell the salty ocean, and feel the breeze, but that was it (sans for water splashing him and getting the bottoms of his jeans wet, which was anything but pleasant).
Tommy didn’t know how long they had been on the boat, since it’s hard to tell the time when you don’t have any way to check or ask for it. Eventually, though, after a journey filled with Tommy thinking about every time Tubbo has hinted about brutally murdering him, the boat came to a halt. Tommy felt the hum of the engine beneath him fade out but before he could wonder why he had been grasped on both shoulders and hoisted up. Tubbo–because who else would it be–moved him to a different location (Tommy figured it was a lifeboat since the ground seemed more… inflatable–if that made any sense).
Finally, his earplugs were taken off alongside his blindfold and wrist bindings. “What the fuck, dude?!” He cried out to Tubbo, who was right in front of him, “what the hell are you doing? I thought you were providing me a distraction, not dumping my body in international waters!”
“First off,” Tubbo said, “these aren’t international waters. The coast is literally right there,” he pointed behind Tommy to the shore, which looked a couple miles away at worst. “And I lied, dummy. You don’t need a fucking distraction, you need to talk stuff out.”
Tubbo stepped aside, and there sat Ranboo, still in all the straight-out-of-a-serial-killer-documentary decor. “Uh, hello?” The tall brunet called out, “Tubbo? You said you were giving me a way to get through to Tommy?” Not that he’d be able to hear anyone’s response with his ears plugged.
“Tubbo,” Tommy let out an angry exhale, “your way of getting me and Ranboo to talk is taking us to the middle of the fucking ocean?”
“And stranding you there, actually,” Tubbo said cheekily before reboarding the motorboat. Tommy struggled to get up on the slippery lifeboat. “I’ll be back in an hour!” Tubbo called out as the boat began to speed away, leaving Tommy and Ranboo alone and stranded.
This would be a fun vlog idea in literally any other scenario, Tommy thought to himself grimly before shimmying himself to the other side of the lifeboat where Ranboo was still bound (and actually beginning to look panicked). With shaking hands, the blond undid the tie around Ranboo’s wrists. He pushed himself away from the other teen as soon as he registered their proximity, letting the American undo the rest of his restraints on his own.
“Did you put Tubbo up to this?” Tommy asked as soon as Ranboo was able to hear him–which, yeah, maybe wasn’t the nicest greeting, but Tommy kept getting splashed by the water and holy shit he was cold and grumpy and wanted to be anywhere but on that goddamn lifeboat.
Ranboo shot him a look, “uh, no? I don’t even know what ‘this’ is.”
“Tubbo told me that he’s leaving us here for an hour until we sort our shit out,” Tommy grumbled.
“Oh,” Ranboo said.
“Yeah, oh.”
And then they were quiet.
For like, a whole 15 minutes-which is a pretty great feat for Tommy. If he wanted to be stubborn, he was going to be stubborn. He didn’t want to ruin the friendship he had with Ranboo, and he was scared, and fuck it was cold.
Tommy shivered once more–apparently, his windbreaker wasn’t enough because the wind was going right through him, and the seawater was soaking into his bones. Ranboo noticed and started to shuffle off his jacket, “here. You can wear this.”
“Why do you keep doing that?!” He snapped, feeling the well of emotion inside him spill over, flooding his mind.
Ranboo, to Tommy’s ultimate annoyance, had the audacity to look confused, “doing what?! Being nice?” Now he looked upset too. Great, Tommy thought, so glad to spend another forty-five minutes stranded with this guy, freezing my ass off.
“Acting like we’re actually dating, damn it,” Tommy responded, looking to his lap where his fists were clenched, tight–knuckles going white as paper.
The brunet looked taken aback for a second, but he swiped a hand down his face and schooled his expression into something more diplomatic. He said, “why? Why does it bother you so much, Toms? You were the one that started this, man. I get if you want to stop, but we have to actually communicate,” he met Tommy’s eyes, and the blonde failed to avert his gaze once again. “Look, will you be honest with me if I’m honest with you? No judgment.”
Tommy frowned, contemplating his options before figuring that hey, no better time to confess than trapped in the middle of the English Channel with your crush. “No judgment,” he agreed after his moment of consideration.
Ranboo stretched, and his expression morphed into one that Tommy was all too familiar with at that point–some sort of nervous anticipation. “Look, Tom, I…” he paused, “I think we should end this too. It’s gone way out of hand, I’m sorry.”
And Tommy’s heart broke.
The American, however, continued, voice beginning to crack with what Tommy guessed was nerves–maybe it was even anger. Fuck. Does he really hate me that much? But then, “I feel horrible because I feel like I’m taking advantage. I… I really like you, Tommy, in a real-not-fake boyfriend kind of way, and I’ve been treating you like we’re actually dating even though you’re straight and–”
“I’m not straight,” Tommy rushed to say before he could stop himself, and Ranboo paused.
“...what?” The older boy whispered, and it was a wonder that Tommy could even hear him past the crashing of waves.
Swallowing his nerves, Tommy decided to muster up as much confidence he could find and repeated himself, “I’m not straight, Ranboo.”
“Oh.”
Tommy swallowed, nervous but giddy but terrified but alive, “I… I really like you.” He laughed halfheartedly, “I tried to call it off for the exact same reasons as you, really.”
Both boys went quiet after that, the air fizzling with anxiety and that weird feeling that really only happens when you’re really happy and really terrified at the same time. They were both reeling after that set of confessions. Tommy, as subtly as he could, pinched himself. Am I dreaming? He wondered, it really feels like I’m dreaming. This feels like a fever dream.
Then, in a way that was ever so careful, ever so cautious, Ranboo shuffled over next to Tommy from the other side of the raft. He wrapped an arm over Tommy’s shoulder, and the younger boy tried not to let out a sigh at the warmth provided. “Is this okay?” Ranboo asked.
“Yeah.” Tommy leaned into his friend’s side, finally embracing the fuzzy feeling that enveloped him as he did so, “thanks.”
Then Ranboo grinned, looking down and meeting Tommy’s eyes, and the blond fell in love even more. “We’re like, really stupid,” the American said and the mood flipped on its head. Tommy, surprised at Ranboo’s bluntness, let out a loud and incredibly happy laugh, which the other joined.
Tommy looked at the taller boy whose cheeks were flushed from the cold waves and the laughing and the joy, and his heart swelled. “Ranboo,” he started in a sudden burst of courage, “I want to be the one to kiss you this time–a real kiss.” Ranboo’s laughter faded out at the implication (not in the disgusted type of way, Tommy knew that now, but in the wait-really-oh-my-gosh type of way).
However, that didn’t stop Tommy from flushed from head-to-toe at his forwardness and he scrambled to apologize before Ranboo caught his wrist. “no…” the brunet swallowed, and Tommy watched his adam's apple bob in his throat “I want you to kiss me, Toms.”
So before he knew it, Tommy was facing Ranboo, the other’s hand still on his shoulder with the other around his waist. It was the most intimately they had ever been with one another–and that was coming from Tommy, who had sat on Ranboo’s lap before, for goodness’ sake. And then Tommy was leaning in, and Ranboo was leaning in, and their lips met.
It was soft, and gentle, and dark and clumsy all at once. Tommy had never really kissed anyone before, but that didn’t mean that he’d never thought about it. He’d read about it too, all those websites describing your first kiss as the feeling of fireworks, or skydiving, or being on top of the world. To Tommy, it was none of that. To Tommy, it wasn’t crazy or bright or overwhelming, but just right. It was the crashing of waves in the background and how despite feeling cold he was the warmest he’d ever felt and it was Ranboo’s grip on his waist and it was total peace and total freedom everything all at once but at the same time nothing all at once and it was perfect.
They each smiled into the kiss, tender and just a little bit in love, before pulling away after another couple of seconds.
“...nice,” Tommy said, at a complete loss for words.
Nice?!?” Ranboo echoed, laughing in his unique type of way that was kind of a wheeze but Tommy thought it was the only laugh ever. “We kiss and you just say ‘nice?!?’”
Suddenly on the defensive, Tommy asked, “What do you want me to say? Pog?!” He crooned, “Ranboo, my little pogchamp.”
Ranboo groaned, “Ugh, no. Dead meme, Toms. I want you to ask for another kiss.”
Tommy went bright red at that but was beyond happy to comply. “Okay then,” he said, “Ranboo beloved, may I have another kiss?”
“Hmmm,” Ranboo pretended to contemplate, “I don’t know…”
“Please?” Tommy drawled, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly. Almost immediately, they had fallen into their regular banter once more. But now kisses are involved, Tommy celebrated.
Ranboo’s face split into another grin, “aw, I guess so. How could I say no to that face?”
Tommy leaned back in.
***
About another half hour passed before Tubbo had finally returned to the two teenagers with his sputtering motorboat. “Aha, yes!” Their friend had exclaimed upon seeing Tommy and Ranboo curled up against one another, still exchanging sugared kisses. “My plan worked, I see,” he said smugly when both teens shot him a menacing glare. “I was the laxative to you guys’ emotional constipation!”
“Tubbo,” Ranboo sighed, “please never refer to yourself as a laxative ever again.”
“Or strand Ranboo and I in the middle of the ocean,” Tommy chimed in.
At that, Tubbo just shrugged as though it weren’t a big deal. “Hey,” he defended, “it all worked out in the end. Plus you guys deserved it after making me sit through all that fucking pining, oh my god.”
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Tommy asked because surely he wasn’t that obvious. After all, he had only just figured out all of his feelings within the past 24 hours.
Tubbo rolled his eyes at his question while he helped Ranboo up onto the boat. “Why do you think you two were so believable to everyone else? Everyone knew about your feelings for one another–’cept for you two dumbasses.”
“Okay,” Ranboo amended, “maybe it was that bad.”
“No kidding,” the shorter brunet rolled his eyes, but his face was split into a smile. “Now let’s get home, it’s cold as fuck out here.”
“You’re telling me,” Tommy muttered under his breath, but somehow he felt warm. Maybe it was the fact that Ranboo was still holding his hand even after the taller had pulled Tommy out of the lifeboat. “I still can’t believe you fucking stranded us for an hour.”
Tubbo shrugged but the boat began to head back, the hired driver getting them back to shore, “cope.”
Ranboo seemed to take it in stride, “hey, it was a good excuse to hang out with Tommy, I guess.”
“You’re stupid,” Tommy squeezed Ranboo’s hand, “but it was pretty absurd. That’s a good vlog idea, actually. He looked up to the tall brunet by his side, “you ever wanna do that again?”
“Oh, god.”
***
Tommy leaned back in his chair with a sigh and a stretch, wincing as his back popped. He was streaming MCC 15 but it was near the end of the tournament–his team hadn’t placed super high so now he was just watching the final dodgebolt competition. He rooted for Quackity’s team now, the Red Rabbits, but was getting a little bit tired. Still, he was only streaming for like… half an hour more at most, so he figured he could maintain his energy for a bit longer.
Before he hopped back into excitedly cheering, though, a knock on his door sounded out. He took off his headphones and set them around his neck. “Yeah?” He called out, “come on in!”
Ranboo stepped into the room, mask still on. “Hey, love!”
Tommy grinned, happy to see his boyfriend. “‘Sup, Boo! Congrats on getting third!”
“Aw,” the brunet had a smile in his voice–Tommy heard it a mile away, “thank you. Can I get a reward?”
“Boo,” Tommy chastised, “I’m streaming, dummy.”
And then Ranboo walked up to Tommy, right behind his chair, and ran a hand through his curls. Curse him, Tommy thought, he knows my weakness. “Just a small kiss, please?” The brunet whined, but he was just being stupid to annoy Tommy.
“Fine,” the blond grumbled, shutting off his camera for a second and pulling down Ranboo’s mask, “come here, dummy.”
They shared a quick kiss–just a peck, and then Ranboo giggled. Tommy rolled his eyes but laughed too. “Aren’t you streaming, too?” He asked, “did you leave your chat behind to come and bother me?”
Ranboo shrugged, “I ended pretty early–I don’t think they minded too badly. I told chat that if they wanted to see me they should just head over to your stream.” He tacked on, “I’m staying here to watch the rest of the game, by the way.”
“Gee,” Tommy rolled his eyes, “thanks for asking me first.”
The American kissed his nose before pulling up his mask, “anytime. Now, let’s get back to business.”
The younger obliged, turning his camera back on. “Ah,” he realized, “I forgot to press mute. Sorry, Boo.”
“No worries,” Ranboo shrugged, “as long as the camera was off.”
“It was, don’t worry,” Tommy assured him. His heart swelled with fondness at the older boy’s nonchalance, “you’re dumb.”
“You’re the one that’s dating me, though, so what’s that say about you?” Ranboo countered.
Tommy smiled, “that I’m a good boyfriend.”
“Yeah,” Ranboo said as he leaned over Tommy’s chair once more to rest his chin on his head, “you are.”
And Tommy didn’t really have anything else to say to that other than “you too.”
And that was alright.