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“Ranboo!” Tubbo called down the stairs, from where he sat trying to convince a squirming Michael into a matching pair of socks. “A little help here?”
There was some clamoring about downstairs, the creak of a ladder, and then Ranboo’s face popped through the trapdoor, black and white hair smushed under the heavy piece of spruce. Seeing the predicament Tubbo was in, he let out a sharp laugh. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Tubbo huffed out, still trying to cram the socks onto Michael in as delicate of a fashion as possible. “Socks!”
“Since when does Michael wear both socks at the same time?” Ranboo asked, looking them up and down before letting out another, louder laugh. “Is that a bowtie, Tubbo? Did you put our child in a bowtie?”
At the sound of Ranboo’s voice, Michael squirmed even harder, making grabby motions with his hands. “Boo!”
Tubbo let him go with a small sigh of acceptance, watching as Ranboo hoisted himself through the trapdoor just in time to scoop the armful of tiny piglin up into his arms.
“Hi, Michael,” Ranboo said, in that same fond tone he always used when greeting the child, and Tubbo just sighed again, grinning and standing up himself. Ranboo towered over him when he was standing, there was no point in being the only one on the floor. “Did Bee try to put you in a suit?” Ranboo asked their son with no small amount of delight.
Michael was babbling gibberish again, pointing from Tubbo to the socks left discarded on the floor and then finally wrapping his tiny fingers around one of Ranboo’s pointed ears, trying to bring it to his mouth to gnaw on it.
“Hey now!” Ranboo chastised lightly, pulling the baby away from his ear and shaking his head over exaggeratedly. His floppy hair bounced at the action. “No biting.”
“Yeah!” Tubbo chimed in, coming to stand by his side and reaching up to boop the tiny piglin on the nose. “If I’m not allowed to, you certainly can’t!”
Ranboo let out a mix of a laugh and a noise of surprise. “You’re such an idiot. I can’t believe you seriously though that would get me to change my mind.”
“I can’t believe it didn’t work!” Tubbo huffed. “I’ve found pain to be an excellent motivator.”
Ranboo just rolled his eyes fondly, setting Michael down and watching him toddle away. “What’s got you all worked up, Bee? You’re wearing pants with no holes in them.” He narrowed his eyes. “Your shirt is tucked in evenly all around, too.”
Tubbo ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he had picked up while Tommy was… gone. “You can see right through me, huh?”
“To be fair, you don’t even wear matching socks on a good day,” Ranboo pointed out. “I’d be a pretty crappy platonic husband if I didn’t notice something was wrong.”
He let out a sort of shaky laugh. “I’m just so nervous about tonight, Ranboo. I mean, I only just found out Tommy is-“ he choked for a moment, making a vague gesture with his hands. Ranboo just nodded, so he continued. “And now we’re inviting him over for dinner? I just,” he let out another harsh breath, “I just don’t know what to think.”
Ranboo was silent for a moment, looking gravely serious. “And you thought that the correct answer to that problem was to put a suit on our toddler?”
The laugh that bubbled out of him was a shock to the both of them. “Maybe? I don’t know!” Tubbo laughed again, the tension in the room shattered. “God, that was pretty stupid of me, wasn’t it?”
His husband, platonic love of his life until death do them part, just gave him a little shrug in response. “I mean, if we aren’t wearing suits, I don’t think we technically need to put Michael in one.”
“Oh, we’re wearing suits,” Tubbo corrected him immediately, slapping his arm lightly at the alarmed look in Ranboo’s eyes. “Why do you look so scared? You’re always wearing a suit!”
Ranboo cracked a grin of his own at that one. “Okay, okay. Serious talk time. It’s not dumb to want to control the little things when the big things feel out of your control. So I’m here to tell you that it’s okay, you don’t need to fret the little things. Nothing is out of your control right now.”
Tubbo smiled a little at the comfort. “Thanks,” he replied, biting his lip.
Ranboo just rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. “I know you don’t believe me right now, but you will.”
“I hope so,” Tubbo replied.
“So,” Ranboo replied, clasping his hands together, “When are we expecting Tommy?”
As though in answer to his question, there was a loud knock on the front door. Tubbo smirked at that. “Right now, apparently.”
Ranboo nodded, giving him one last comforting pat on the head. “Right.” For the first time that night, he looked a little nervous. Tubbo knew how important it was to him that Tommy liked him. “I’ll get the door then, you get Michael situated downstairs.”
“Thank you, my beloved,” Tubbo replied mirthfully.
“Hey!” Ranboo jabbed a playful finger in his direction as he started to descend the ladder. “That’s Beloved-Underscore to you!”
Tubbo turned back to Michael as his husband finally disappeared from view, off to greet their guest. “Alright, buddy,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Are you ready?”
Michael cocked his head curiously.
-----
There were four more knocks on the door before Ranboo managed to yank the heavy piece of wood open, each one more frantic than the last. Tommy stood on the other side, nose tinted a frosty red and his arm raised as though he were about to knock again. As he made eye contact with Ranboo, he drew back from the door with narrowed eyes. “Oh,” he said, “You’re here too.”
“Hi, Tommy,” Ranboo replied, pushing down the irrational fear in his throat. Tommy looked a little pale, but no worse for wear than he remembered. Sure, his eyes darted around the room nervously and his fingers scrambled for purchase on whatever anchor they could reach, but he was still the same Tommy.
“Hi, Ranboo.” Tommy sounded as unenthused as ever to see him.
Ranboo winced a little at his tone. “Please, come in,” he offered, pulling the door a little further open and gesturing to the warm glow of the home behind him.
“How kind of you to offer,” Tommy replied through gritted teeth, sarcasm lacing his every word.
Ranboo paused for a moment, contemplating that as the blonde boy pushed past him to get inside. “Yes. Yes, it is, actually.”
“Whatever,” Tommy brushed over it, whirling around to face Ranboo. “So you’re the husband.”
Tommy was going to be a little brash, a little blunt. It was only expected after what he endured. Ranboo nodded. “I am. Would you like me to take your coat?”
“Touch my coat and I rip off your arm. How did you convince Tubbo to marry you?”
That was a little more blunt than necessary, in Ranboo’s opinion. “I- we just kind of did.” He paused awkwardly. “If you want, you can hang your coat up over there by the door.”
“I most certainly do not want to do that. Why did he want to marry you?”
“Well, uh,” Ranboo scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. The collar of his shirt felt uncomfortable and scratchy already, and slightly sticky with nervous sweat. “I’m not… sure?”
“Mmh.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, like Ranboo had coerced Tubbo into marrying him or something. “Where’s your spawn?”
“My-!” Ranboo choked on air. “My what?”
“The kid. Where are you keeping him?”
“Uh, Tubbo has him- are you sure you don’t want to hang up your coat?” Ranboo asked him.
Tommy stared him dead in the eyes. “I’m fine. Stop asking.”
“Right.” Ranboo clicked his tongue. “Message received.” His ears flattened slightly as Tommy continued to stare angrily in his direction, disappointment and confusion muddling the shorter teen’s emotions.
A cry of “Tommy!” comes from somewhere behind the two of them, and Ranboo turns to find Tubbo standing there, light backing him like he’s some kind of angel, swooping down to save Ranboo from an awkward conversation with his technical brother-in-law. Tubbo is beaming brighter than the sun and clutching Michael in his arms, and a sense of peace overtakes him that he only really gets when he has eyes on his entire family.
“Tubbo!” Tommy’s mood visibly skyrockets, and he bounces over to the other boy, coming to a stop barely inches away from where Tubbo is standing, still staring at Tommy like he’s amazed to even see the other boy standing in front of him.
“Tommy,” Tubbo says, his tone suddenly dead serious, “This is Michael.” He holds up the zombie piglin at face level.
Tommy pauses at that, staring into Michael’s eyes and matching Tubbo’s level of seriousness. “Hello, Michael,” he replies, expression unreadable.
Michael makes a sound between a snort and a giggle, and reaches out and grabs at Tommy’s nose. “Gold!”
Tommy finches away, avoiding the grabby fingers, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Ranboo’s heart is in his throat just watching this entire interaction, and his fingers itch for his axe, just for that extra level of protection. It’s a dumb thought, Tommy wouldn’t even think about hurting their son. Besides, they don’t even let armor in here anymore, let alone unsheathed weapons.
“Right then!” Tubbo smiles at that. “Now that we’ve done all of the introductions, Tommy, why don’t you go with Ranboo at the table. I’ll go grab the food.”
Tommy opens his mouth, almost like he’s about to object, but then Tubbo’s free hand has wrapped itself around at his wrist and he’s tugging the blonde boy along with an excited “Come on!”
Ranboo lets himself sag a little against the wall as Tommy is led out of sight. He knows the other boy doesn’t mean to be nasty so much as he means to make his presence known and established as Tubbo’s “person,” but that doesn’t make him any easier to talk to.
They’re both seated at the table while Tubbo bustles around the kitchen, humming, and Tommy hasn’t stopped staring at him. Ranboo flicks one long ear awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck and offering a toothy smile at the boy. “So, Tommy, how have you been?” He asks, the awkward, stilted conversation picking up right where it left off.
“You covered my house in flowers,” Tommy replies, tone accusatory.
“Well,” Ranboo paused, treading lightly. He felt like he was walking on eggshells. He had multiple perfectly good reasons for covering Tommy’s house in flowers, involving a bit of therapeutic gardening for Tubbo and the fact that he had thought Tommy might actually… like them, but he wasn’t going to bring any of that up now. “You were kind of gone,” he replied instead, wincing a little.
“And I’ll thank you never to remind me about it again.” Tommy’s tone was cold, but even as Ranboo watched, the shorter boy curled in on himself a little further, clearly affected.
“Okay, okay,” he muttered, purposefully softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I won’t.”
“Don’t do that either!”
Forget walking on eggshells, Ranboo had ground his heel firmly into the eggshells, crushing them into a fine powder. There were no more eggshells, only pain.
“What do you want me to do, Tommy?” he asked, making sure not to raise his voice. After all, none of this was technically Tommy’s fault, but he couldn’t be expected not to upset the other boy if everything he did upset him. “I want to make you feel comfortable, but if you don’t help me out here, I don’t know what to do!”
Tommy’s cheeks flushed, though whether from embarrassment or anger, Ranboo couldn’t be sure. “I don’t like you,” he admitted, like Ranboo didn’t know that already. Then, “I don’t like how likable you are.”
Ranboo nodded a little, trying to decipher exactly what it was that Tommy meant by that. “Understandable. But you need to understand that I’m not trying to replace you.”
“I know you’re not trying to,” Tommy grit out, and Ranboo’s eyes flickered to where his fists were curling on the table, “But you just do. And it’s so effortless for you.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Effortless?” Ranboo shook his head. “Tommy, everyone likes me because I can’t say no to anyone.”
It seemed like that fact hadn’t occurred to Tommy thus far, and Ranboo took a bit of relieved pride in seeing the recognition dawn on his face. His chest constricted once more when, a moment later, that recognition turned into suspicion.
“What?” he asked the blonde.
“Was that why you married Tubbo?”
Ranboo’s eyes widened. “No! Oh, god no!”
That seemed to make the blonde relax a little. “Good.” He leaned in a little closer. “Because if you had…”
“I would never do that to him,” Ranboo promised, and if he thought Tommy would have been okay with it, he would have reached across the table and grasped his hand in a show of genuinity. “Seriously. Tubbo means more to me than almost anything in the world. I know you of all people would understand that.”
Tommy nodded, satisfied. “Almost anything?”
Ranboo cracked a grin at that, craning his neck to see Tubbo stepping through the doorway, oven mitts on and a huge platter in his arms. Michael clung to his back, his snout poking out over one of Tubbo’s shoulders. “I do have a child, you know.”
Tubbo put the platter down in the center of the sturdy table, clasping his hands together with delight. “Dinner is served!”
“This looks great, dude,” Tommy said genuinely. A smile twitched at the corners of his lips.
“Glad to hear it!” Tubbo smiled, seating himself at the head of the table. “Dig in!”
They all took a moment to pile their plates high with food, Tubbo and Ranboo both attempting to slip Michael extra of his favorites while the other wasn’t looking. Michael snorted happily, and Tommy watched the three of them interact with curious, calculating eyes.
“So,” Tubbo said, after the four of them had all taken their first bites. “How is it?”
“It’s absolutely fucking-er, sorry! It’s freaking delicious!” Tommy winced at the double glare Tubbo and Ranboo leveled at him, the shorter of the two moving to cover Michael’s ears, not that it would do him much good now. “Say, Tubbo,” he continued, in an attempt to change the topic, “I didn’t remember you could cook anything half as well as this! Like seriously, this is some good shit! What changed?”
The clinking of their forks against the ceramic dishes filled the small space.
“Oh, I didn’t cook this,” Tubbo replied offhand, shaking his head and cooing at Michael, trying to feed him some mashed potatoes, “Ranboo did all of the cooking.”
Tommy’s eyes widened marginally, and he glanced over to where Ranboo was sitting, awkwardly trying to pretend he was examining their wallpaper. “Oh,” the blonde teen replied tactfully. “Well, it’s alright, I guess.”
“Thanks,” Ranboo muttered, making hesitant eye contact. That was probably the best he was going to get for now. There was only so much emotional growth he could expect from one day, realistically.
There was more silence, greedily stretching to fill every nook and cranny between them, worming its way into the cracks and crevices of what could have been a conversation. Ranboo could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He knew it was just Tommy here, none of them were in any kind of physical danger, but his heart rate begged to differ, speeding up even further as the young teen cleared his throat once more, preparing to speak again.
Social danger, his brain whispered. You aren’t in the clear yet.
“So how did you two...” Tommy gestured to the both of them, more of a flail of his arms, but he got the point across.
“End up engaged?” Tubbo offered, taking a sip of his drink. He sounded amused.
“Yeah.” Tommy looked uncomfortable. “That.”
Ranboo exchanged a look with Tubbo, an awkward grin making itself at home on his face. “Um...”
“Yeah,” Tubbo agreed with a small nod, turning back to Michael and busying himself with feeding the small piglin once more.
Tommy pulled a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, and Ranboo oh-so-desperately wanted to reacquaint his gaze with the wall, but Tubbo was making a pointed effort not to answer this one, so it looked like he was on his own.
He pushed a bit of his steak around his plate just to give himself time to think of an answer. “Well, I think I proposed first.” He paused. “I think.”
“First?”
Ranboo just nodded. “Or maybe Tubbo did. Honestly, we got engaged so many times in the beginning it’s a little hard to remember.” His fingers itched for the memory book laying mere feet to his left, resting within sight on the side table. The details were fuzzy even now, despite his promise never to forget the day. Guilt rose in his stomach.
Tommy’s eyes were narrowed. “You got engaged multiple times.” What should have been phrased as a question came out more of a pointed barb.
Ranboo just nodded a little bit, looking over at Tubbo helplessly. “We got divorced a bit too, I think. Honestly, I’m not the best person to ask about this kind of stuff.” Finally, his husband looked over at him, seeming to take the hint almost immediately.
“Well, it was very romantic, to say the least,” Tubbo cut in for him, which only seemed to make things worse, to be honest. “Except not romantic! The other one!” The brunet turned to Ranboo. “What is that, Boo? The one that’s not romantic?”
“Platonic?” Ranboo offered, very slowly sinking further into himself and covering his face. Tommy looked like he was about to lay an egg, his face flushed red with angry confusion.
Tubbo snapped his fingers, looking excited. “That’s it! Platonic. It was very platonic of him.”
“...I see,” Tommy replied, sounding as horrified as Ranboo felt.
To his left, Michael babbled something, picking up a piece of his mashed potatoes and throwing it at the floor.
“Oh dear! I must get something to deal with that.” Ranboo said, standing up in one sudden, jerky movement and making a break for the kitchen. “I’ll be right back, no worries! Just talk amongst yourself!”
Tubbo let out a little huff as he walked past the table, and Ranboo just gave him a helpless glance. I’m trying my best here!
Tubbo’s gaze softened, and he turned back to Tommy, allowing Ranboo to slip from the room with a soft sigh of his own.
The most endearing part of their kitchen was the cramped, overstuffed quality of it, in Ranboo’s opinion. About a half a meter too short for him and filled with the most random, useless assortment of spices and ingredients, it was nearly impossible to cook anything at all in it. Tubbo had made it special when he had expressed Michael might benefit from more home cooked meals, and he absolutely loved it.
Now, he ducked his head under the low hanging pans hanging in the doorway like mistletoe like it was second nature, occupying his hands looking for a kitchen towel as he took a moment to cool down.
Tubbo and Tommy were talking in hushed tones from the other room, and if Ranboo were a less curious person with slightly worse hearing, he wouldn’t have listened in, but everyone has their faults.
“What’s going on here, Tubbo, seriously?” Tommy muttered, and Ranboo could feel the possessiveness in his voice.
“What’s going on here is that I’m inviting my best friend to dinner to meet my husband and son,” Tubbo whispered back, a different kind of possessiveness lacing his words. “Do you have a problem with that, Tommy?”
Tommy’s response was quick. “No.”
“That’s really funny, because every single thing you’ve done tonight has implied that you do,” Tubbo replied, and Ranboo once again congratulated himself for marrying such a strong, confidant person who wasn’t afraid to share his opinions.
“Tubbo…” Tommy murmured at that, a bit of shame creeping into his voice, and Ranboo opened and closed a couple more cabinets, just to give himself something to do. The towels sat on the counter next to him.
Tubbo sighed at that, barely loud enough for Ranboo to pick up. He’d been sighing a lot lately. “Look, Tommy, I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re feeling. Honestly, I don’t think you want me to know what you’re feeling. But please don’t take out your anger at me on Ranboo. He’s a good guy. If this is too much for you, that’s on me. Be mad at me, not him.”
There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and Ranboo felt the tension crackle in the air. Painfully oblivious to the situation, Michael babbled happily, throwing what sounded like some more mashed potatoes onto the floor.
Finally, Tommy sighed, sounding defeated. “Does he make you happy?”
“What?” Tubbo sounded almost jumpy.
“I said, does he make you happy?”
Ranboo’s tail flicked to curl around himself nervously, his hands stilling on the table. He glanced around himself at the life he’d built in a week for a boy he’d do almost anything for. For the first time since he’d left, he glanced back through the tiny doorway.
“Yea.” Tubbo’s response was soft, but his voice didn’t waver.
If Ranboo’s hearing had been the smallest bit worse, he wouldn’t have heard Tommy’s response, uttered just as softly as Tubbo’s.
“Good.”
Grabbing the towel, Ranboo ducked back through the doorway and into their dining room. He shot his husband a small smile, kneeling down and scooping up what he could of the spilled food. Michael grabbed for his hands with chubby fingers, a stream of “Boo, Boo, Boo!” bubbling from his mouth.
“He’s ah, uh,” Tommy cleared his throat. “Cute kid you guys have got there.”
“Thanks,” Ranboo replied, the same warmth that he always felt when someone complimented his kid welling up inside of him.
“Is he…” Tommy winced a little, leaning in so Michael couldn’t hear him, “dead?”
“Would we love him any less if he was?” Tubbo asked him with a pointed look.
The blonde’s eyes widened slightly, a small smile slipping onto his face. “I guess not,” he replied.
“Good,” Tubbo replied happily, taking another bite of his steak. “I’m glad we got that settled.”
Ranboo nodded in agreement, and when he looked up again, Tommy was giving the both of them a softer, more subdued smile. It was the most genuinely happy Ranboo had seen him since he’d gotten back from the prison.
Michael picked up some more mashed potatoes and threw them as hard as the could on the floor, giggling at himself and sticking out his tongue, blowing a raspberry. Tubbo rolled his eyes fondly, and Tommy gave the child a responding giggle, blowing a raspberry of his own right back at him.
Ranboo wasn’t a very optimistic person in general, but he was beginning to think that maybe this dinner wouldn’t be a complete disaster after all.