Chapter Text
schlatt stands at the podium and smiles at the crowd. quackity is next to him, grinning. there’s a rush of emotions swirling inside him and he knows damn well that wilbur will never accept this. he’s been friends with wilbur for a long time, and he can already see revolution spawning in his old friend’s eyes. he knows that tommy is too far gone in support of wilbur to be allowed to stay, but tubbo is not, and tubbo can be used against them.
so he banishes wilbur and tommy. just like that. he orders tubbo to chase after them knowing that tubbo will let them go, and after a long time and a lot of handshakes and important people telling him they knew he would win, he finds himself with his cabinet in their meeting room in the dead of night. they all look exhausted, and some of them look less-than pleased to be there, but they’re all there.
“so,” schlatt says. “let’s get to work.”
quackity’s tie is hanging around his neck. fundy looks like he’s about to fall asleep. tubbo looks scared, and angry, and tired. schlatt remembers with a jolt that all three of them are practically kids. george, who is not a kid, who has been through war before and will go through war again, is standing rimrod straight in one corner of the room.
“maybe we start work in the morning?” quackity suggests meekly. fundy groans in agreement. damn, they’re unprofessional, but he just keeps reminding himself that they’re kids, they’re kids-
“yeah,” he says. “good idea, quackity, thank you. i want you all here bright and early, and the first order of business will be a coffee machine in the meeting room.”
tubbo is the first to leave, practically bolting to his room. he and fundy already have rooms in the white house, so this isn’t a change for them, this is fine. fundy trudges off, looking vaguely miserable. quackity glances back and forth between him and the door.
“so i just take tommy’s room?” he asks.
“you’re the v.p.,” schlatt says with a shrug. “just move his stuff out. or leave it. i don’t care.”
“what about george?” quackity glances toward the man in question, who raises one eyebrow in response.
“i’m going home,” george says. “i’ll be back tomorrow, mister president.”
schlatt grins at the title. he could get used to that.
he tosses wilbur’s stuff into the hallway- someone else will take care of it- and crashes into the president’s bed. damn, this is a life of luxury he could get used to.
he knows how government works. he knows in the morning there’ll be paperwork and policies and dealing with a country that just went through major political upheaval. but that’s a tomorrow problem- right now he’s going to sleep in this luxurious bed.
he wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn and makes himself look presentable, coming up with a list of things to do in his head. the first order of business is trudging down to the meeting room and being pleasantly surprised to find a coffee maker already there.
“i had a spare laying around,” fundy says with a shrug, sitting at the table. schlatt looks at him judgmentally, trying to figure him out. fundy just stares back.
“i know you were probably loyal to your dad-” schlatt starts.
“save it,” fundy snaps. “i’m loyal to the president. that’s you.”
and now that- that is good to hear. schlatt grins at the fox hybrid.
“excellent,” he says. “i trust you can handle yourself?”
“of course i can,” fundy snorts, and that’s his first indication that fundy most definitely cannot handle himself. he’s a kid that’s angry at his father and he’s willing to do anything to prove it. but that’s an issue schlatt can address later, when fundy inevitably burns himself out. right now, he has more pressing matters to attend to.
“quackity, my good man!” schlatt calls as quackity makes his way into the room, looking exhausted. “how’d you sleep?”
“like shit,” quackity says dryly. “you’re sure about this whole exile thing?”
“are you questioning me?” schlatt asks, eyes narrowed. quackity shakes his head quickly. “good. i need you and george to set up a meeting with eret, yeah? talk about expanding this country of ours.”
“yes, sir,” quackity says quietly. george slips into the room on the tail-end of the conversation, looking completely presentable and mostly bored. quackity gestures quickly and the two leave just as tubbo enters.
“tubbster!” schlatt cries. “we need to get you a suit, man, can’t have you walking around looking like you just rolled out of a revolution!”
fundy snorts. good, an appropriate level of laughter. he’s not trying too hard to get into schlatt’s good books.
“okay, schlatt,” tubbo says quietly, face pale. “um- sorry, mister president. mister schlatt? president schlatt?”
“schlatt is fine,” he says, waving a hand. “fundy, give us a minute, will you?”
fundy salutes lazily and strolls out of the room, cup of coffee in hand. schlatt gestures for tubbo to sit down and makes his way over to the coffee machine.
“you like coffee, kid?” he asks. tubbo shakes his head. “that’s fine, i’ll just make myself a second cup. listen, and i’m gonna be serious here for a second-”
he grabs a second cup of coffee and sits down across from tubbo. the kid looks terrified, but something about him is familiar. some primal instinct in schlatt is telling him to take care of this kid, to take away whatever it is that’s freaking him out, eliminate the threat. he shoves it aside.
“i know you’re good friends with tommy,” he says. “and i know you’re real loyal to wilbur.”
tubbo looks even more terrified. schlatt allows it to sit for a moment- he can’t have his staff getting too comfortable, not when wilbur could come back and start a revolution at any second.
“but you gotta trust me when i say that i don’t care,” schlatt says eventually. tubbo’s fear morphs into confusion. “you can go visit them all you want. they’re only exiled from l’manberg, is all. it’s not like i’m putting out a manhunt for their heads on a stick. as long as they don’t step foot here, i don’t care what they do. and-”
he lets out a hearty laugh. “it’s not like i’m banning you from leaving. you’re your own person, you’re allowed to do whatever you want! i just want my cabinet to be happy, tubbo, and if that means you go see your friends, it means you go see your friends. all i ask is that you don’t- i dunno, betray me or something, start letting state secrets loose. you feel me?”
“i- yeah,” tubbo says, looking slightly shocked. “you mean- you really don’t mind if i visit tommy?”
“not at all,” schlatt says with a shrug. “hell, the only reason i exiled tommy is because i know wilbur’s got him good and brainwashed. trust me, kid, wilbur and i go way back from some different worlds, and the only thing stopping him from starting up a rebellion against his own government is the fact that he cares too much about his little brother to do it.”
“you think he’s got tommy brainwashed?” tubbo asks.
“they’re brothers,” schlatt shrugs. “i wouldn’t put it past him.”
“i’m their brother, too,” tubbo mutters, and that- that’s news to schlatt, actually, he knew phil had an adopted kid but he’d always assumed the adopted kid was technoblade. “adopted, but- why don’t you think he’s brainwashed me?”
“because you didn’t start yelling at me the second i said brainwashed,” schlatt points out. if tubbo is adopted- the kid would be sixteen right around now, yeah? his horns would start growing in soon, and- holy shit, of course it would’ve been phil to take him in, and-
focus on the problem at hand, schlatt, he tells himself. worry about a possible child later.
“oh,” tubbo says quietly. “okay. well- is there anything you’d like me to do today? to get started, i mean?”
damn. he really did not expect the kid to take all of this that well. he smiles at tubbo, gets up and walks around the table, ruffles his hair. tubbo tenses up a little, but seems to brush it off easily.
“hopefully a meeting with king eret, if quackity and george pull their strings right,” schlatt says. “i’d like you to be there, of course, you’re my secretary of state! that’s foreign affair stuff, right?”
“not exactly,” tubbo mutters meekly. “under wilbur i was just kind of- kind of his secretary.”
schlatt huffs. of course he was. he’s heard of this kid, he knows he’s skilled, of course wilbur would brush that aside-
“well, i assume you know l’manberg better than anyone. when it comes to the state, that’s your job, bud. i’ll stick george on foreign affairs.”
“okay,” tubbo says, looking excited. “i actually had a few ideas, i was thinking i could talk to niki about implementing some new shops, and-”
he cuts himself off, glancing down. schlatt is standing in the doorway, about to leave, he thought tubbo was going to follow but clearly the kid thinks it means something else. “sorry,” he starts. “i-”
“no, no,” schlatt says, waving a hand. “come on, talk to me while we walk. we’ve got a busy day, i want to hear your ideas.”
tubbo talks excitedly about ideas he’s had for a while, and schlatt listens to all of them. yeah, he thinks, this is a good start.