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"You're beautiful." Ranboo says as he takes off his shoes.
Tubbo laughs, in that snorting, inhaling laughter he always does when he can't believe something he was told. That's beautiful too, but his zero brain to mouth filter already has Tubbo laughing at him, so he just shuts his mouth and feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.
Tubbo is leaning against the kitchen counter, Michael wrapped up in his arms and little hands slung over his father's shoulders. A wine colored shawl blankets his shoulders, green sleeves peeking out of the dense tassels cascading down his arms.
"Good morning, boss man." Tubbo welcomes him, eyes crinkling. Ranboo can't resist his own goofy grin, smoothing it down by rubbing a rough paw over his face. "It's 2am, Tubbo."
"You always say that."
"Is Michael awake?"
Tubbo hums non committedly, hand gently rubbing his son's back in comforting nonsensical shapes. "Mhm, poor kid, just can't seem to stay 'sleep." He mumbles, Michael echoing his sentiment with a low whine. Ranboo huffs, shuffling closer and placing a fluffy arm around Tubbos shoulders. He grips the back of Tubbos skull with his paw, ruffling his hair as he leans down to kiss the top of his head.
He sticks his nose into his hair for a few more seconds, breathing deeply. Tubbo leans up into his touch, shifting Michael into one of his arms to lift up a hand and cup Ranboo's warm nape. Ranboo feels his throat rumble softly, vocalizing before he skips his hand off Tubbos stocky shoulders and reaches for his child deftly. Tubbo passes him off, swiping a finger under his nose and pressing the sniffling baby ziglin into Ranboo's paws.
Ranboo faces the bundle to his eyes, pressing his fuzzy cheek against Michael's. "What's wrong, grumpy baby?" He mutters, and Michael whimpers, stretching his arms out and grasping at the base of Ranboos ears. Ranboo smiles dorkily, knocking his forehead gently into Michael's.
Tubbo leans into his side, yawning. His ears flick up and jostle the tufts of hair jutting out in cowlicks. He wraps a solid arm around his waist, slouching drowsily. He seems more affectionate tonight than usual, but Ranboo is definitely not complaining. "Miss m'papa.." Michael murmurs, his remaining eye enormous and shiny as he stares into his fathers eyes. Ranboo coos, shifting to kiss his temple. "Did you miss me, is that it?"
Michael nods, whining as he rubs his head against Ranboo's chin. Ranboo directs his attention back to his husband, letting a paw fall onto Tubbos scalp, carding through his hair. Tubbo melts, pressing a pair of horns and a grin into his ribs. "Wanna-" Ranboo yawns, "-Take him to bed with us?"
Tubbo breathes softly, shifting foot to foot and creaking the cold hardwood floor. "Aren't we 'sposed to let 'im cry it out, or something?" Ranboo blows air out of his nose, amused. "Were past that point I think."
Tubbo blinks, the puff of air making him scrunch up his nose. "Alright, fuck it."
Michael struggles out of his blanket when he is set down on their comforters, crawling into the middle of the bed and tucking himself under the covers. Ranboo giggles, patting the bottom of the bed.
"Comfy?" He whispers, and Michael snorts happily.
Tubbo grazes his back with his hand as he passes him, prompting Ranboo to stand up and face his husband with a low hum. Tubbo unbuttons his suit jacket slowly, shaky hands pulling it off his shoulders without a word. Ranboo watches his face carefully, tightened skin pressing white against his face, his eyelashes dusting the edges of scar tissue as the corners of his mouth twist up once he catches his gaze.
"What are ya staring at now?" He says teasingly, slipping off Ranboo's sleek tie with ease. Ranboo skips over Tubbo's cheek with his paw pads, claws softly grazing his temple. Tubbo flutters his eyes, screwing up his face as Ranboo caresses it. "Mmm." Ranboo replies lovingly.
"You're annoying." Tubbo mutters, tired and loose tongued and so, so perfect. Michael's muffled giggle makes it to their ears, sounding a bit more awake then desired, so they part with a half eyed stare. Ranboo slips into a pale nightshirt and loose sweatpants while Tubbo curls around his son under the covers, propping up his chin with his palm to watch Ranboo whip out his journal.
Ranboo crawls into their large bed, tail flicking around his family's figures. Comfortably tucking his legs under the plush blankets and keeping his bright eyes on the feather whisking inky words over worn paper. Gentle light emanating from the shaded lamp settles onto black words, gilded gold in the warmth, carefully written away memories for later consumption.
Tubbo cuddles into his pillows, one arm kept slung around Michael's small form. He keeps his eyes trained on his husband's small movements, waiting for his paw to finish its musings. "Lay down- huf, sleep now please." Tubbo demands quietly after a couple moments, seemingly growing impatient as a pout curls his face.
Ranboo laughs lightly, glancing minutely. "Rich coming from you, I can't believe you're the one telling me to sleep."
Tubbo blows out a harsh sigh, "Michael won't sleep until you do. Isn't that right, little man?" His voice is vaguely slurring, blurred with drowsiness, but Michael manages to understand anyways. The piglin nods, looking up at his other father and making his eye as wide and big as possible. Ranboo laughs in that raspy 'snrk'-ing way and pockets his book in his inventory with a low flash of light. "Alright, alright, you can sleep now, little guy."
Michael snorts, nudging Ranboos shoulder as he snuggles under the covers, bringing the blankets to his chin. Tubbo presses his fingers into Michael's temple, petting the fuzz there rhythmically, watching Ranboo turn over and press his nose into his pillow. Tubbo smiles at him goofily, and Ranboo feels his ears swivel and eyes adjust to the dark as the lamp is flicked off.
Ranboo listens to the soft spell of his family's shared restful breath, and lets his bright eyes close to a blissful sleep.
—
Ranboo wakes up slowly in the night. His vision clears of blurry colored lines and when it does Ranboo is greeted with the sight of his husband sat up and curled around himself, scarred arms wrapped around his knees with twitching shoulders. Other than that he is stock still, head buried in his knees. Ranboo feels his brows knit together, a long arm still trapping his son in a loose hug.
"..Tubbo?" He calls softly, voice round and drawn in sleep. Tubbo breathes out a little more hastily, but other than that he doesn't move. Ranboo doesn't try to touch him, just waits patiently for him to react.
Tubbo breathes in again shakily, jerkily bringing a hand back down to the sheets and straightening his legs. "..s'dumb."
Ranboo maneuvers around Michael with slow movements, sitting up on his palms and peeking over Tubbos hunched shoulders. "S'alright, what's wrong?" he urges, laying a paw next to Tubbos twitching fingers.
"..Dunno if..um, did we lock the doors?"
Ranboo can feel his shoulders slump, and he keeps his voice low and gentle through his reply. "Want me to check?"
Tubbo finally looks at him through his dense bangs, jaw tight. "You don't have to. It's not that big of a deal."
Ranboo swings his legs over the bed, making sure his steps are light as he glides over the wooden floor, "s'fine, wait here."
He visits the entrances of their magnificent mansion, (the doors for each room were removed for the similar reasons he has to do this in the first place) jiggling the doorknobs and quickly checking the weapons cabinet as well. He vocalizes, and then heads back upstairs, brushing the wooden stairway with his tail as he passes through.
Tubbo is still in bed when he peeks over the door frame, staring down at the backs of his hands and sitting crisscrossed in front of his pillow. Michael is still sleeping soundly beside Tubbo, his head cradled by a pillow too large for him. Ranboo goes to sit on the edge of the bed, brushing off his feet of any dust and feeling Tubbo hover behind him.
"Doors are all locked. We're all good." He whispers, falling onto the blankets softly with a thumbs up in the air. Tubbo breathes a little more softly, eyes glazed over and hands twitching minutely. Ranboo softens, outstretching a paw to hover over his hand, unsure if he wanted touch, but offering the comfort anyway. "Hey, Tubbo, hey. It's alright, we're safe." He says, emitting a rumbling sound from his throat without prompting.
Tubbo blinks, looking up from biting on his lower lip. He wrestles with his hands in his lap, tapping his ring finger on Ranboo's paw, and then looking away again. "..I don't usually have nightmares when you're here." Ranboo tilts his head, drawing his brows together and waiting for him to continue. It takes a while, but eventually he takes a deep breath and fills his lungs with quantifying air.
"..You shouldn't have to do stuff like that for me." Tubbo admits, glancing at him through his bangs. Ranboo doesn't quite know how to respond yet, so he makes a sort of grumble noise and stares at Tubbos hands. "I'm going to though, okay? That's- it's just another little part of you I have to remember. It's not a bother." he murmurs, "I got you. I promise."
Tubbo sniffs, but he looks up and his clearing eyes speak without words. "..Kay." is all he says, and Ranboo feels like that's not all he has to say— But Tubbo looks tired, and Michael is sleeping peacefully between them, and dawn's rosy hue will be approaching within a couple hours, so Ranboo gently takes Tubbo's hand in his.
They lay on opposite sides of Michael, linking their arms over him and facing each other, Tubbo silently shaking in the aftermath of his nightmare with Ranboo quietly providing his presence. Wrapped under the thick layer of blankets, they find each other in the warm darkness, the silent covenant resting between them that says 'I'll be here if you wake up' and 'I love you'.
They fall asleep.
—
Something pokes him in the ribs. Ranboo feels his nose twitch. It pokes him harder. Ranboo breathes in Tubbo’s hair, nuzzling into his skull. There's a quick psst, and Ranboo hums in question.
"Ranboo, I need to piss."
His content mood is suddenly disrupted by his annoyance, and he squeezes Tubbo harder, before letting go and pushing him away.
"Oh, okay, I see how it is then!" Tubbo laughs, and Ranboo can't see him but he feels the mattress bounce. After he hears his husband shuffle away, he peels open his eyes and looks down at his son, the toddler pressed against his stomach and curled into a ball. Ranboo smiles softly, feeling his heart squeeze with affection.
He swings his head up to check the clock, gauging the time he should actually wake up. (He could easily drag Tubbo back into bed and sleep until the sun is halfway in the sky, though that plan does counter with the fact Michael will absolutely not be able to sleep that long. Plus, Ranboo is only going to be here for a couple days and he wants to spend every moment sparingly.)
Tubbo clops back into the room, a cardigan slung over his shoulders and wrapped around his waist. He still seems just as drowsy as Ranboo feels, his hair sticking out all over the place and his eyes rounded with weight. He stretches his arms above his head, yawning with his eyes shut serenely. The warm sunlight filters through the windows and flits across his skin. He looks beautiful, Ranboo wants to tell him.
Michael makes a soft noise against him, and Ranboo looks down at him again. Michael blinks at him, content and happy and safe next to his father. Ranboo purses his lips, grasping Michael with one arm and swinging over on his side, dragging his paws under him to blow a raspberry into Michael cuddled in his arms. Michael screeches with laughter, pushing his hooves against Ranboos chest. "Papa no-" he bursts into another round of giggles as Ranboo attacks him by tickling his tummy.
Tubbo laughs, bright and snorting and real. Ranboo smiles and remembers just how much he loves this laughter. Tubbo hands him his ring before he gets up and slips it on with a goofy smile.
The moment passes, and Tubbo carries Michael downstairs while Ranboo teeters along, dragging his feet against the floor. Michael is making soft grumbling noises as he's set down on the floor, dragging his baby blanket behind him as he skirts towards the sofa.
Ranboo steps close to Tubbos' form as he meanders about the kitchen, flicking on the heat and stealing the pancake mix from the cupboard. Tubbo nudges his hip a couple times when he gets in the way, huffing through his nose while Ranboo hovers around.
Tubbo has a large glass bowl on the counter before he tucks his hair behind his ear. "Are you going to help or just stand around me all- menacingly." Ranboo regards his movement with a glance, still drowsy with nothing other than i'm so happy repeating continuously in his mind. He has no doubt he's making the most sappy expression to exist with the way Tubbos sours in kind with fond exasperation, the hand on his hip swinging out as if to say 'what am I going to do with this idiot'. Though Ranboo doubts he really knows either.
Ranboo finally retreats from the kitchen when Tubbo swats him in the side after spilling over copious amounts of salt on the counter and tells him 'please leave this kitchen or I will kill you, thank you, my beautiful wife' and he sulkily joins Michael in playing with his toys.
He carefully secures Michael's baby blanket into a cape that billows behind Michael when he bounces off the sofa, rambling on as he grabs his dull wooden sword. He slurs his words tiredly as he bounds up next to Tubbo, before racing back to Ranboo again. Tubbo hums belatedly from the kitchen, mumbling some song under his breath Ranboo has forgotten the words to. Outside the frame of the window lies a thick layer of powdered snow, perfect and glistening with the sun's rays reflecting off the crystal's surface.
Michael stares outside with bouncing excitement, all previous remains of exhaustion wiped clean from his face. He looks back at Ranboo, tugging on his pants. Ranboo chuckles, ruffling his son's tufts of course hair. "We'll play outside when you eat breakfast, bud."
Michael hums, tilting his head and pressing his snout into Ranboo's paw. Tubbo calls out over the course of a couple minutes, "Come get food, you fucks!"
Ranboo helps Michael onto his chair near the kitchen island, who immediately gets to work carefully constructing a beautiful masterpiece of whip cream and syrup onto his pancake. Ranboo gets his share and thanks Tubbo with what he insists he gets, which is two emerald blocks and a kiss. Ranboo rolls his eyes and kisses the back of his hand, which is promptly used to ruffle Michaels fur as he walks by, clutching his own plate in his hand.
They eat. The house is warm. Tubbos ankle is linked with his. Michael is snorting happily as he's given more strawberries than he could eat.
They trap their bodies in furs and coats as soon as they finish breakfast, Michael excited for getting into the pliable snow as soon as possible and his energy is rubbing off on his parents. The day is nice. Ranboo looks at Tubbo speaking enthusiastically while he helps Michael into his tiny ( so small) furred boots, the backlight washing over his family like gold. Ranboo feels his jaw tighten.
They tumble out of the mansion, and Michael screams in delight at the vast expanse of snowfield, his breaths puffing out in the cold distinguishably. Tubbo immediately scoops him up and spins around, falling into the bed of white while Michael laughs and snorts. Ranboo smiles. His ears flutter, as the sun cowers on his cheeks and the world is well, so he leans down and plops down into the snow as well.
Tubbo grins at him, and then shoves snow into his face. Ranboo yelps, shaking the snow off his fuzzy skin and glaring at his husband once he sits up. Michael vocalizes an "ooh" and throws some snow up into Tubbo's face too. Tubbo stares at his son flatly. Michael giggles.
"So that's how you wanna play?"
They scream and laugh until their lungs feel crisp, and snow is creeping up their backs, and Ranboo starts to feel it melt. Tubbo is out of breath and Michael just keeps grinning every time he's awarded a win. Ranboo's cheeks hurt. Tubbo is calling him a bitch as he throws a penis shaped snowball at his face.
...He doesn't want to forget this. He. Can't forget things like this. It's the little, domestic things that really get him, that makes him want to recount this morning delicately and hold it close to his chest. He reaches to grab his memory book, but once he does, and is staring at the looming label of 'do not read' Tubbo stumbles up to him. "Whatcha writing boss man?" He asks.
Ranboo bites his cheek. "Mm." He opens his book and quill and begins writing. "I just want to remember this." He replies, firmly and as slow as his aching grip on the feather in his paw. Tubbo laughs, that beautiful, snorting laugh, the one with the giggles he always does over absolutely nothing at all, and pats his shoulder. "C'mon big guy, you've stopped being fun all of a sudden."
Ranboo looks at him. Tubbo looks back, tilting his head to the side. The snow reflected light bounces against his skin, the cool sunlight settling on his eyes dazzlingly. Snow is littered in his hair and it's mussed and ruined from rigorous movement. You're beautiful, Ranboo wants to tell him. His son is talking animatedly to a chicken he found.
"Hey," Tubbo mutters, "You don't have to remember everything, it's not like we won't do this again, right?" He says it like he knows, like he's said it before. Ranboo realizes that maybe he has. It takes a moment, and then he breathes softly. Maybe It makes it slightly more bearable that he gets to experience this beauty for the first time, again and again. Tubbos hand slides into his. "I promise."
"Yeah." Ranboo says. "You're right."
Maybe Tubbo replies with something like 'I'm always right' or 'duh', but that detail is lost in the next hour of dancing in the snow, kicking it and watching it spray and spinning Michael around in imperfect circles.
When Tubbos ears are red from the cold, his nose a similar shade (his hands shake uncontrollably), and Michael is sniffling every other second, they begin to head inside. The snowfield before them is a mess now, trails of their paths and scooped snow and burrowed holes, and Ranboo only takes one look before he's forced back inside. It's alright. It'd be snowed over again by morning.
The shuck off their necessary jackets, consumed once again by the warmth of their home. Ranboo starts up the fireplace and helps Michael with his new change of clothes, (sometimes he thinks Michael forgets where his closet is) and stands once more by the fireplace. Tubbo reaches out of the shawl wrapped around his shoulders and pushes his forehead against Ranboos neck. "My bones are cold." He whispers.
"Want me to warm them?" He asks, brushing against the texture of Tubbos horns with his thumb. Tubbo nods, and Ranboo feels his smile more than sees it. "Yes please." He replies, voice small. Ranboo wraps his long arms around his husband, entrapping him in comforting pressure.
He squeezes tightly, rubbing his cheek into the top of Tubbo's head of messy hair. Tubbo sighs happily, hooves colliding with the ground. Michael makes a noise of interest. "I want a Bone Hug?" He asks, raising his hoof and tugging on Tubbo's pant leg. Tubbo looks down, and Ranboo raises an eyebrow.
"Bone hug?" Ranboo questions, feeling like maybe this is another thing he just doesn't remember, brushing Tubbos cheek with his knuckles. He almost starts to feel like hes missing something again, like a hole in his stomach, but then Tubbo squeezes his hand and he feels like it isnt such a bad thing that his family gets to fill it. Tubbo hums, "Yeah. That's what we call them. Up!"
Tubbo picks Michael up gently, clutching him close. Michael snorts happily, and Tubbo squeezes him tight, surrounding him with pressure, accompanied with an exaggerated sigh. Michael closes his eye, resting his head on Tubbos neck. "I love you!" Tubbo exclaims, kissing Michael's head.
"I love you!" Michael repeats.
Ranboo feels his heart squeeze impossibly tighter. "Hey, how come you didn't say that to me?" Ranboo banters softly, as Michael is passed into his arms. Tubbo shrugs, lips tugged into a smile. "You know I do."
Ranboo can't help the incredibly fond chuckle that echoes the sentiment. Michael bounces in his hold. Ranboo looks down at his son, his beautiful, happy boy, and hugs him tight and solid. He kisses his temple, hearing him sniff as he releases, and then squeezes again. "I love you, Michael." He says. "I love you."
Tubbo huffs, stepping forward again and surrounding both of them with strong arms. It feels achingly familiar. He wants him to never let go. Ranboo knows what the ring pressing against his spine is a promise of-
Michael repeats it once more.
-The "I love you" always rings true.