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Pog had alerted about six different times as they walked with their food to the table that they were getting to.
Swallowing, Tommy looked down at her. “I know, baby girl. I know, I’m trying to get to the table.” He said, and she blinked at him. Then, she flicked her paws up a bit higher as they crossed from bricks to concrete. It was because of her booties—look, it was super hot and Tommy was not going to let Pog burn her paws on asphalt. Nope. Not at all. Not his thing.
“You doing okay?” Wilbur asked from right beside him. Smiling, Tommy nodded.
“Just hypoglycemic. I’ll be alright.” As they got to the table, Tommy glanced around. Wilbur tugged out a chair for him and nodded to it, and Pog settled down in the shade of the table across Tommy’s feet. Picking up the smoothie, Tommy tried to take a drink. “Wilbur, mind getting—“
“Forks and knives? On it.” Wilbur got up and hurried away. Meanwhile, Tommy started trying to drink. And it was…not going well. Well, actually, it was fine. Just very, very shaky. Like jackhammer-type shaky.
Come on. Wrinkling his nose, Tommy literally grabbed the straw with his teeth and held it there. Holding Tubbo’s gaze, he made a face.
Across from him, Sam and Karl were staring at him with wide eyes. “What’s up?” Tommy asked, setting the smoothie down on the table.
Tipping his head to the side, Sam mused, “You’re very…”
“Shaky.” Karl finished. Beside him, Quackity leaned back into Karl’s arm and braced his knees against Sapnap’s chair on the other side of him.
“Have you…never seen me having a medical episode before?” Wilbur returned with forks and knives in hand, and Tommy took a pair before starting to try and make his food. The whole time, his hands were shaking. After a moment, he tried to put the knife down and growled under his breath. His fingers were literally too shaky for him to put it down. Laughing weakly, he shook his head, commented, “Dad, look.”
Phil glanced over and frowned. “Oh man. Dude, you gotta eat.”
“I’m trying.” Tommy joked, still trying to make his food. Sniffing, he mumbled to himself for a moment, then finally managed to get the sandwich put together. “Whoo, finally.”
“Poggers.” Under the table, Pog sat up. “Oh, sorry girl.” Ranboo said. Wagging her tail, Pog set her chin on Tommy’s knee, still tasking him. Reaching over, he rubbed her head with one hand and started eating the sandwich with shaky hands.
“See? Still fine. Trust me, I’ll be fine in like twenty minutes, one juice box is stupidly good at making the difference.” Rolling his eyes, Tommy rubbed Pog’s head again. “Still, Pog’s got a job for a reason.”
There was a short pause. Then, someone started a joke and then the group began chatting amongst themselves. Passing jokes and teasing one another, telling old stories.
Eventually, Sam asked, “What did you do before you had Pog?”
Looking up from the last part of his food, Tommy shrugged. “Passed out or felt weird until I managed to eat. My old family helped, somewhat.” Humming, he looked down and stirred his food around with his fork. “My mom has the same thing I do, just…slightly less serious. Like, mine pops up pretty much every day and I get unawareness a lot. So my body stops sending signals, and Pog has to keep track of it for me.”
“And your parents never thought to think that maybe a service dog would help you?” Sam asked. Glancing up, Wilbur exchanged a glance with Phil. Techno levelled Sam with a look, eyes narrowing.
Looking down at his food and the patterns on the table, Tommy swallowed. “I think they wanted me to be…someone normal. I guess.” Shrugging, he glanced over at Phil and smiled softly. “I don’t care. This family’s a lot better in my opinion. Plus…you guys picked me. They didn’t.”
“Oh.” Niki said, looking at him softly.
“Hey, I’m alright. I got away with only a little trauma.”
“Tommy, Pog literally has multiple tasks to break you out of dissociation and flashbacks. It’s okay to admit you have more than a little trauma. It’s not a competition.” Wilbur pointed out.
Getting up way too fast, Tommy announced, “Nope! I’m alright!”
Without any more statement, he strode off, Pog trotting behind him and Ranboo and Tubbo not too far off their heels.
+++
A little while later, Ranboo and Tubbo were following behind Tommy and Pog as they strode along one of the river banks.
It wasn’t like they were defenceless. For starters, Ranboo was still fully capable of teleporting, Tubbo had braces on his legs that could extend and literally let him kick through concrete. Pog was half-Rottweiler, all of them had weapons, and all of them had been trained in combat. So they were perfectly fine walking along without any adults.
Kicking a rock along, Ranboo mused, “There’s more on the…thing. What’s it called? Uh…” Tipping his head back, he started snapping his fingers. Both Tubbo and Tommy looked at him. “Thing that we use for series ideas.”
“The whiteboard?”
“Yes! Whiteboard. There were a couple more ideas, I was wondering if we could try and get Pog into it.” Humming, Tommy shrugged.
“It would make things easier. Although does anyone have any ideas about killing Dream yet? Because I think Dream’s tired of playing the bad guy and the hate of the character is tiring for him.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he shifted his hoodie. Spinning on her leash, Pog sat down and licked his fingers. Looking down, he smiled, rubbed her ears, and lifted his head. Pulling to a stop, he frowned and lifted a hand. Both Ranboo and Tubbo stopped. “Someone call Jack and Wilbur. Get them down here now.”
Nodding, Ranboo immediately pulled up his watch. Meanwhile, Tubbo kicked the braces into gear, bouncing a bit to test the springs before glancing around and drawing both his sword and the small shield he could use to roll and brace against the ground when needed.
Behind them, there was a sound.
Snapping to Pog, Tommy clicked his teeth twice. Pog’s hackles raised and her head jerked to the side.
“Move!” Ranboo yelled. Leaping forwards, he slammed all three of them to the ground. Someone sprang forwards, and Tubbo kicked his legs up. One of the boots slammed into the person’s stomach and sent them flying.
Bracing the shield on the ground, Tubbo rolled. Ranboo snagged Tommy’s arm and Pog’s collar, then teleported to the side. Then, he released Pog’s collar, and she charged forwards to snarl at their attacker.
“Ranboo, ETA of backup?” Tommy demanded, holding one arm out. As soon as he had, the programmed sword formed and he thanked everything that Quackity and Skeppy had figured it out properly. Then, he crouched down and focused.
“No clue!” Ranboo replied, breathlessly. Well, alright then. This got a bit tougher, shaking his head, Tommy glanced around and paused. Barked out an order.
“Yo, Shamrock!” He yelled. Glancing to the side, Tubbo nodded. Tommy darted in and slashed the sword at the bad guy’s back. It cut deep into the gaps of their armor. Then, he yanked back. Turning, they raised a hand and smacked him across the face. Stumbling, Tommy placed a hand on the ground and flipped.
Ranboo struck this time. Teleporting in, he slammed both feet into the guy’s face and sent them stumbling back. Then, Tubbo jumped in, swept out their legs and let them slam into the dirt. “Okay, let’s get out of here now .” Ranboo ordered.
Nodding, Tommy clicked his teeth three times. Perking up, Pog charged over, and Tommy grabbed onto her leash. Then, the three of them sprinted along, Ranboo snatching Tommy’s arm and teleporting ahead while Tubbo picked up Pog and ran harder.
There was a sharp snap and Ranboo tumbled forwards. Gasping, he went down. Tommy leapt upright and grabbed his sword again. Beside him, Tubbo skidded to a stop, holding onto Pog still.
“Get out of here!” Glancing down, Tommy saw Ranboo clutching onto his arm. Blood dripped from where a knife stuck out of his arm. Sucking in a breath, he pressed his forehead to the ground. Tommy moved and raised his chin before staring at the attacker.
Above their head, a familiar set of shapes shot by. Wilbur shot down, kicking the man in the face. Meanwhile, Jack dropped down beside him, holding out his hands and letting lightning shoot between his fingers. The colors sparked in a match to his usual glasses.
Turning to look over his shoulder, Jack grinned, “Hey, Toms. We’ve got some friends on the way, no worries.”
Nodding, Tommy dropped down to press his hands to the injury on Ranboo’s arm. “Ow.” Ranboo mumbled, looking up at him and grinning. “One heck of a moment after a banana smoothie, right?”
“Shut up.”
+++
A couple hours later, Ranboo was sitting on the couch and bouncing Michael on one knee.
The kid was currently playing with Tubbo’s hair, who was sitting to the side of Ranbboo’s legs, on the floor with Pog’s head in his lap. Tubbo was on the couch above him, reading a book to Michael. Normal things, obviously, that one does after an attempted murder.
Walking over, Jack ruffled Ranboo’s hair, then hopped over the couch and dropped down beside him. “Bad news—your attacker is still alive. Good news—Bad’s interrogating him.”
“Oh.” Snorting, Ranboo turned to Michael, who abruptly headbutted him. “Ow.” Blinking, Ranboo made a face, twitched his nose. “Tubbo, can you take him for a moment? I just got headbutted by piglin child.” Humming, Tubbo reached over and pulled Michael into his arms. Meanwhile, Ranboo checked over his nose and wrinkled it a few times, trying to work out whether or not it had been broken. Clearly, it wasn’t.
There was a closed door. Looking over, they found Dream and Techno walking in. “Hey!” Tommy said, looking over. Smiling, Dream shot him a half-hearted, two-finger salute. Then, he went to the couch opposite theirs and dropped down immediately with a groan. Techno plopped down by his head, crossed his arms over his chest, and apparently falling asleep.
“Well, that looks fun.” Tubbo commented, rocking Michael in his arms. Going limp like a cat that didn’t want to be picked up, Michael let out a short sound like a giggle. Holding him up, Tubbo threw him in the air once, catching him easily. “Do you like that? Was that fun?”
Michael immediately signed back, “Again!” Looking over at Ranboo, Tubbo shook his head and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Then, he kept throwing the kid in the air, not enough to smack him against the ceiling but enough to be fun.
“Kids are weird.” Ranboo commented, leaning forwards and watching Tubbo playing with their son for a moment.
“I know.” Leaning back against the couch, Tommy commented, “The other day he had me throwing him against the bean bags.” Snorting, Ranboo shook his head. It was actually Jack who came up with an explanation.
“Yeah, it’s because it helps their brain figure out balance.”