Work Text:
Tubbo, lying in bed, closed his eyes, wishfully hoping the action would block out the day’s memories.
It had been awful. He and Tommy had gotten into an argument, and it was one that both would remember for a long time.
Tubbo squeezed his eyes tight as Tommy’s harsh words, what Tubbo retaliated with that made Tommy’s rage fade into horror looped through his mind. He couldn’t even remember what the original, simple argument was about, but he knew it escalated too much and was both of their faults.
He tensed as rustling sounded and footsteps padded his way. Then, his bed slightly dipped.
“Can I?” Tommy whispered.
Tubbo flinched, thought, nodded.
The bed dipped more, and Tubbo clutched at his sheet.
He knew Tommy faced his back, laying on his side.
One arm loosely slipped around Tubbo’s middle, pausing occasionally to see if he’d be pushed away.
Tubbo remained still.
More shifting, and then something—Tommy’s forehead and nose—pressed firmly against the space between Tubbo’s shoulder blades. Something else brushed against his legs. Knees, he assumed. Tommy must’ve curled up.
Tommy’s mouth moved against his shirt, forming two silent words.
A tear dripped onto the pillowcase.
Tubbo gingerly moved his hand to grip Tommy’s, squeezing it twice before gently holding it.
They would properly talk in the morning, but for now, they’d be alright.