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Tubbo was suspicious, and for a good reason.
Ranboo kept sneaking away at night, crawling out of the bottom bunk of their shared bunk bed. Tubbo would sleepily call, “Where are you going?”
Ranboo usually patted him reassuringly, easily reaching the top bunk. “Don’t worry,” he whispered back. “See you in the morning.”
Tubbo always went back to sleep.
In the morning, Ranboo was always upstairs, playing with Michael, or preparing breakfast for them to all eat together.
When Tubbo asked questions about little injuries Ranboo had, or inquired of his whereabouts the previous night, Ranboo deflected, quickly changing the topic.
One day Tubbo pressed further and further, not letting the matter go. “Just tell me where you’re going,” he pleaded. “We’re just worried about you.”
It was a low blow, holding Michael close and using his big eyes to aid his own persuasion. But it worked, and Ranboo softened at the sight of their adopted son.
“I’m just trying to protect you, Tubbo.” Ranboo said tiredly. “You and Michael, you both mean the world to me. I can’t let you get hurt.”
“Hurt, hurt by what?”
Ranboo gently lifted Michael out of Tubbo’s arms. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”
It hurt keeping secrets from his family, but Ranboo had to protect them. The Syndicate was suspicious of Tubbo, worried about the harmless community his platonic husband had built in the west. Snowchester. Their home.
It made Ranboo want to laugh sometimes, the thought that their small nation could ever be considered a threat. He wanted to laugh, but the sharp eyes of the Syndicate warned him against it.
If Ranboo could turn back time, he would’ve begged, sworn Niki to secrecy to protect his family. As much as he trusted Phil and Techno, as much as he owed them for harboring him after the war, there was no way that they would let his family live in peace. In Techno’s eyes, Tubbo was the government incarnate, everything Techno stood against. And Ranboo knew that Phil would follow Techno’s lead in attacking whatever stood in their way, not that Techno needed his assistance.
After all, Tubbo’s days of government leadership were far behind him, tattered in the ruins of L’Manburg. He wasn’t hurting anyone or leading anything in Snowchester, and despite knowing that, Ranboo knew that it wouldn’t mean anything to Techno, and Ranboo was too far involved to reveal his information.
Ranboo was sneaking out now, Techno had requested he be at the Syndicate meeting again, and he felt a pit of guilt in his stomach at leaving his family alone again.
“Don’t stay out too late,” Tubbo’s sleepy voice called as Ranboo opened the door. “I see how tired you are in the morning.”
Ranboo hummed in acknowledgement. Tubbo and Michael would be okay. Tubbo was more than capable of protecting himself and their son.
Ice crunched behind him, and Ranboo whirled around.
“You don’t know much about Snowchester, eh?”
“Techno, hey! I was just doing some scouting, y’know for the Syndicate, making sure that Snowchester isn’t a threat, y’know. They seem pretty harmless to me, haha, so we should just move on. I heard about a kingdom to the east actually, that we should maybe check out, but we’re all good here…” Ranboo’s nervous ramblings died out as Techno just stared at him. “Techno?”
“You’re doing an awful lot of scouting in a country you say isn’t a threat.” Techno’s weapon wasn’t out, but Ranboo tensed all the same. “You’re here every night, every day. I would even venture to say you have personal ties here, a family even.”
Ranboo felt his heart stop. Prestense abandoned, he put a hand on his sword. “Are you threatening my family?”
Techno raised his hands, a show of innocence. “I like you Ranboo. I trust you. But why would you lie to us about this place. You said you’d only been here once before. What are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything here. I’m keeping my family safe. I know how you feel about Tubbo.”
“He’s a government.”
“He’s a person, Techno.”
Techno huffed, his own words being used against him. “That doesn’t change his past.”
“Who are you to tell me who to interact with? What are you, a government?”
“Ranboo?” A new, sleepy voice. “What’s going on?”
No. not now.
Tubbo, standing in the doorway of their home, cradling Michael in his arms.
Ranboo watched in horror as Techno’s eyes alighted upon Michael. His world froze for a moment.
Techno’s sharp eyes softened. “A piglin?” He asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You adopted a piglin?”
Ranboo found himself at Tubbo’s side, standing defensively in front of his son. “His name is Michael.”
“Michael,” Techno said in wonder. “It’s not often that I see another Piglin outside of the Nether.”
Realizing he meant no harm to their son, Tubbo nudged Ranboo aside. “Do you want to talk to him? He speaks Piglin.”
Techno hums, low in his throat, and Michael answers with a similar noise. They continue to exchange sounds for a few moments, before Michael breaks out into delighted laughter, reaching out, asking for Techno to hold him.
Tubbo sucked in a breath, holding Michael away. “Not today buddy,” he told his son. “I don’t know if we can trust this guy.”
Techno straightened, addressing Tubbo for the first time since he left the house. “That’s fair. How do you do, government?”
“I’m doing well, Mr. Blade, but it’s past this little guy’s bedtime, so I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Techno retreated, saying nothing else, but casting Ranboo a meaningful stare. We’ll talk later, it said.
“How did you know he would react like that to Michael?” Ranboo asked the next morning, mashing carrots for his son’s breakfast.
“I didn’t. I just hoped that Techno would see a child and be caught off guard. Plus, Michael didn’t want to sleep, so I figured interaction would tire him out.”
“That’s really dumb, considering how Techno feels about kids.” Ranboo laughed, watching Tubbo attempt to flip a pancake.
“Michael’s not an orphan, he’s got us. It all worked out anyways, didn’t it?” Tubbo scraped the pancake residue off the ground and dumped it unceremoniously in the trash.
“Yeah, I suppose that’s true.” Ranboo cooed at Michael. “We’re lucky though.”
“When do you suppose he’s coming back?”
“If our luck remains, a couple weeks to a month.”
Tubbo pouted. “But Michael liked talking to him. I bet he liked talking to Michael, too.”
Ranboo looked at Tubbo incredulously. “Tubbo, he wanted to get rid of Snowchester. He wanted to get rid of our home.”
“Yeah, but that was before he met lil’ Mikey here! If they don’t use their Piglin, they’re going to forget it.” Tubbo reasoned, laddleing fresh batter into his pan.
“Fine. I’ll talk to him.”