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Sleep is not something that comes often to Tubbo.
When it does, it hits him hard. He stretches out across his bed like a starfish, passes out quickly, and sleeps so deep that he might as well be temporarily dead. Ranboo sometimes complains that he snores, but the complaints always have a lilt of fondness behind them, and Tubbo knows that if it was really bothering him, Ranboo would just find another room to crash in.
But it doesn’t come often . Most nights, he wanders and tries to fill the dark hours with something to keep his mind occupied. Something other than watching L’Manberg crumble before his eyes, other than Tommy being led further and further away by Dream, other than being boxed in, a searing pain already burning across the side of his face as Techno loaded another firework to finish the job.
There is plenty to keep him wide awake, and so he battles it by creating plenty more for him to do.
Tonight, his wandering feet and trauma-ridden memories take him back to Snowchester. The mansion is one of the things on his list that will no doubt keep his mind occupied for quite a while once he gets around to it, but he is not here for it tonight.
The cookie outpost rocketed to the top of his priorities after Quackity’s open threats and attempts at “compromise”, and he’s running out of supplies. Most of his stuff is still back in Snowchester, and if there was any time to start bringing more stuff over, now would be it. The sight of the unfinished wall sends an uncomfortable kind of itch through him, and if he can’t finish it to satisfy his need for defense, he’ll need to get it through other means.
Part of him wants to finish it anyway. To creep out while Quackity and the rest of Las Nevadas are fast asleep and finish his barrier of stone the way he initially intended, to put another firm obstacle between him and the destruction that seemed to follow him wherever he went. But finishing it without Quackity’s permission would no doubt start another war. He doesn’t want to do that to Ranboo, and even if he didn’t care about that, Tubbo only has so many nukes. He’d like to save them if he could.
He walks past the mansion, freshly fallen snow crunching under his boots as he makes his way back towards the little cabin on the edge of the docks of Snowchester. The weight of his insomnia-inducing memories seems to lift a bit as it comes into view. As impressive as the mansion is, the cabin is still home to him. The lights are out on the first floor, but orange torchlight is streaming through the windows of the attic, and a smile finds its way onto Tubbo’s face.
Michael must be awake.
Tubbo tries to be quiet as he pushes open the door to the cabin, but the wooden planks creak under his feet. He halts, cringing internally for a moment before he sighs and lets the door shut behind him. Ah, well. He’d guessed that Michael was already awake anyway. A door and a creaky wooden floor wouldn’t make much of a difference.
“Michael?” He calls, and it’s a bit strange to hear no echo accompany his voice the way it does at the outpost. “You awake, bud? It’s late, you should be--”
Tubbo’s voice dies in his throat as he notices the trapdoor leading to Michael’s room hanging wide open.
Panic suddenly takes a firm hold of him and sends a shock wave of adrenaline through his veins. He doesn’t leave the trapdoor open, not ever. Ranboo doesn’t either, and Michael isn’t old enough to know how to lift it himself. The door shouldn’t be open, and yet, here it is.
Tubbo pulls himself up the ladder so quickly he thinks it might be some kind of world record, and whips around so fast he gets a bit dizzy as he takes in the sight of Michael’s room.
The panic fades as he sees him. Ranboo is standing by Michael’s bed, his back to the trapdoor, and Michael is sitting up in bed, a gleeful smile on his face as he clutches a purple allium.
He’s alright. He’s alive, and it’s just Ranboo.
“Primes, big man.” Tubbo sighs, and lets the trapdoor close as he pulls himself completely into the room. “What’s with keeping the door open? You scared the shit out of me.”
“Da!” Michael lights up, his eyes locking onto Tubbo as he scrambles out of bed and races over to him. He crashes into him with a fervor that would have knocked Tubbo over if he wasn’t so used to his son’s energy.
It still makes him stumble back a little, though, and he laughs as he reaches down to ruffle Michael’s hair.
“Hey there, Michael.” He says. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”
Michael looks a bit guilty, but the smile stays firmly on his face as he looks up to meet Tubbo’s eyes.
“Was sleepin’!” He insists and points back towards Ranboo. “Pa said hello!”
That would explain it. Ranboo visited Michael much more often than Tubbo did, Michael’s own sleep schedule be damned. Not that Tubbo could blame him, not really. He knows Ranboo has his own fair share of nightmares, and sometimes, going to visit Michael was a good way to quiet them. A reminder that there was still some good in the world, that Michael still needed them and loved them. It helped to think about things like that when it seemed like it would be a hell of a lot easier to just bite the bullet and get it over with.
“He did, huh?” Tubbo said and looked up to see Ranboo. “I thought we agreed we’re trying to let him sleep through the night -- Boo?”
Tubbo pauses as he realizes what he’s looking at. Ranboo is standing completely still, rigid as a board, and taking advantage of every single inch of his height. His face is expressionless, and he’s staring down at Michael with glowing purple eyes. He does not move an inch, not even when Tubbo speaks to him.
Dread seeps into Tubbo’s stomach.
“Boo?” He tries again and gets nothing. “Ranboo. Hey, Ranboo, look at me.”
Purple glowing eyes suddenly snap to Tubbo’s cloudy blue ones, and Tubbo suddenly realizes that he needs to be more careful about what he asks for.
Because the moment Ranboo’s eyes meet his, everything freezes. Tubbo feels rooted to the spot, and that same panic that had surged through him when he saw the trapdoor is back. He tries to move, and not a single one of his limbs responds. He can’t even break his stare away. Ranboo’s eyes seem to bore straight through him, and for a moment, Tubbo’s fingers itch to hold a sword, every inch of him suddenly screaming out, instinct guiding him to recognize a threat and get rid of it.
Ranboo tilts his head, and when he opens his mouth, an incomprehensible garble of noise comes out.
“⏁⎍⏚⏚⍜.”
“What the fuck. ” Tubbo whispers, terrified to speak any louder.
“⏁⎍⏚⏚⍜.” Ranboo repeats and finally breaks his stare.
Tubbo gasps as he’s released from his paralysis, and his body reacts before he can even think about it. He scoops Michael up in his arms and backs away into a corner of the room, shielding his son from whatever has taken up residence in his husband’s body.
“Stay the fuck back.” He warns, only spurred on as Michael lets out a nervous squeak in his arms. He shifts Michael to one arm and pulls a sword with his free hand. He doesn’t point it at Ranboo, not yet, but his terror is soothed just slightly at the feel of the hilt against his palm. “I mean it. I don’t know what the hell you’ve done with Ranboo, but if you do anything to Michael, I’ll--”
“No, Da!” Michael cries, panic evident in his voice as he cuts Tubbo off. “Just Pa! Pa not bad!”
“That’s not your Pa, Michael.” Tubbo says and lifts the sword a bit higher.
Which was apparently the wrong move.
“⌿⎍⏁ ⎅⍜⍙⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌇⍙⍜⍀⎅!”
Ranboo shrieks, the noise otherworldly and piercing to the point where Tubbo can’t help it. He jumps and lets the sword clatter to the floor as he claps his hands tightly over his ears, and Michael takes advantage of Tubbo’s disorientation to wriggle his way out of his arms. A scream launches from Tubbo’s own throat as he sees Michael running right up to the thing that is not Ranboo, and he does his best to lunge forward and grab him, but it is too late by then.
Michael crashes into Ranboo’s legs and wraps his little arms around them in a tight hug.
“Is okay!” He shouts, and Ranboo’s unholy shriek starts to fade as he turns his strange, glowing stare down to look at Michael. “I okay, Pa! Just Da! Da won’t hurt!”
Tubbo watches, partially paralyzed once again, only this time it’s due to his own fear. The thing that is not Ranboo watches Michael for a while and finally crouches, lowering himself down to Michael’s eye line.
Michael is still clutching the allium in his little fist, and now, he holds it out towards Ranboo.
“Da’s just scared.” He says, and Ranboo stares blankly at the flower. “But you not bad. I know.”
The room is eerily silent for a moment, aside from a fading buzzing noise that reminds Tubbo of the dying screeches of endermen. Ranboo reaches towards Michael, and for a second, the panic surges through Tubbo once again, but all he does is take the allium.
“⋔⟟☊⊑⏃⟒⌰.” He says, and Michael breaks into a wide grin. Michael looks back towards Tubbo and bounces on his toes just slightly.
“See?” He asks and looks back and forth between Tubbo and Ranboo. “See? Just Pa! Lil’ different, but Pa!”
Ranboo looks back up towards Tubbo, but this time, Tubbo doesn’t feel all of his limbs lock firmly into place. His heart is still thrumming wildly in his chest, but he takes a hesitant step forward.
Whatever this was, it didn’t want to hurt Michael. That didn’t mean it could be trusted yet, but with the way Michael was so fond of it…
“Boo?” Tubbo tries again, and Ranboo tilts his head.
“⏁⎍⏚⏚⍜.” He warbles and watches blankly as Tubbo makes the slow journey over to him. Michael’s room has never felt larger.
When Tubbo’s in range, he reaches out very gingerly. He’s tense, every nerve in his body pulled tight, and he’s ready to snap his hand back at the first sign of danger, but that sign never comes. Tubbo’s calloused palm meets Ranboo’s cheek, and Ranboo just watches him through those blank, glowing eyes.
“You in there, boss man?” Tubbo asks.
“⟟'⋔ ⊑⟒⍀⟒.” The noises that come from him sound almost distorted and Tubbo has no hope of understanding what they mean, but for some reason, his outright panic is beginning to fade anyway. “⌇⏁⟟⌰⌰ ⋔⟒.”
“Oh...kay.” Tubbo says and pulls his hand back. When he does, Ranboo stands back up to his full height again and looks towards Michael. It’s strange to see him that tall. Normally he hunches over just slightly, just enough that it’s not noticeable unless you’re looking for it. A sign of low self-confidence, maybe, but if that’s what it is, this odd not-Ranboo has none of it. “Uh...so I guess...Michael needs to go to bed.”
Normalcy. Tubbo has very little of it left in his hectic life, but Michael is one of the few aspects of his life that gives it to him. Right now, he wants to cling to it, to have some semblance of correctness to hold onto while everything else is busy being a confusing, slightly terrifying mess.
“Da!” Michael whines and shifts his attention back to Tubbo, giving his very best pouty face. It’s pretty good at this point, he’s had a lot of practice. “Don’ wanna go bed!”
Unfortunately for him, Tubbo has had a lot of practice defending against Michael’s pouty face and scoops him up into his arms again.
“Too bad, kiddo.” He says, and while he’s looking mostly at Michael, he glances back over to Ranboo every few seconds. “You need to sleep.”
Michael continues to pout and crosses his little arms over his chest, but Tubbo knows that Michael’s gotten very good at knowing when he’s lost. Tubbo lets him pout, but doesn’t get a fight back as Tubbo carries him back over to his little bed and tucks him in. Ranboo stands up and follows, his movements stiff, and Tubbo feels hyper-aware of his every movement.
Tubbo finishes tucking Michael in and goes to pull back, but before he can, Michael’s small hand catches his.
“Stay?” He asks, and Tubbo can hear the sleepiness creeping back into Michael’s voice. “Both?”
Tubbo glances back at Ranboo. He hadn’t planned on staying the night. There are a couple of chests full of supplies waiting in the basement, supplies that the cookie outpost could use more than the little cabin could at the moment. Making the trips back and forth would likely take all night.
But Ranboo’s still staring at him blankly, and Tubbo gets the feeling that even if he told him to leave, Ranboo wouldn’t. And sure, he didn’t seem like he would hurt Michael, but he sets Tubbo on edge like this. He’s not super comfortable with leaving him alone with Michael.
“What do you think, Ranboo?” He asks, an edge of nervousness to his words. “Sleepover night?”
Ranboo stares at him and tilts his head.
“⌿⍀⍜⏁⟒☊⏁.”
“...right.” Tubbo says and turns back to Michael. “Alright, then, Michael. Scoot over.”
Michael gives a small cheer that’s cut off by a yawn and he scoots over, giving Tubbo just enough room to fit beside him. Michael immediately snuggles close to him, hiding his face partially in Tubbo’s shirt.
“Night-night, Da!” He says and looks over at Ranboo, waving sleepily in his direction. “Night-night, Pa!”
“Night, Michael.” Tubbo says, and a short series of garbled noises tumble from Ranboo.
“☌⍜⍜⎅⋏⟟☌⊑⏁.”
“What he said.”
Tubbo gently rubs Michael’s back as he slowly falls asleep, and turns to keep an eye on Ranboo. He’s turned away from the two of them, his stare deadset on the trapdoor, and it doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going on. He’s guarding them. Keeping watch for any potential intruders.
As much as this weird version of Ranboo unsettles him, Tubbo has to admit that it’s nice. He doubts anyone will get very far past Ranboo when he’s like this, and it’s not often that Tubbo can sleep knowing he’s completely safe.
He’s not quite sure when or how, considering all the anxieties of the night combating his usual terrors, but somehow, with Ranboo standing guard and Michael snoozing contentedly in his arms, Tubbo falls asleep.
---
When Tubbo’s eyes open again, early morning daylight is filtering through the windows to Michael’s room, and Ranboo is now seated at the foot of the bed. Tubbo stares at him, a mix of dull dread in his gut, and he carefully shifts around the still-sleeping Michael to make his way over to Ranboo.
What he finds is Ranboo, his head lolling on his shoulders and his back leaning against Michael’s bed frame, fast asleep.
“Boo.” Tubbo whispers and gently sets a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder to shake him. “Boo!”
Ranboo startles awake with a gasp, and relief floods through Tubbo as his eyes are once again a familiar mismatched red and green. Those eyes dart around the room for a few seconds before coming to rest on Tubbo’s.
“Tubbo?” He asks, and the confusion is clear in his every movement. “What happened? Why am I in Michael’s room?”
Tubbo sighs, and swings his legs over the side of Michael’s bed. Michael’s allium is on the floor next to Ranboo, presumably dropped when he fell asleep, and Tubbo picks it up and messes with the petals.
“So, I met your terrifying eldritch twin last night.”
The color drains from Ranboo’s face.
“Oh.” He says, and Tubbo holds the flower out towards him.
“Yeah. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, big man.”