Chapter Text
Tommy hummed slightly as stared at the open cabinet. He was supposed to be making breakfast but who could choose from their variety of canned vegetables? Luckily, he was spared from this challenge when he heard the thud of the hatch closing, signaling Tubbo's return from his morning grounds check.
"Tommy," Tubbo calls from the bunker's hatch. The room was sort of detached from the rest of the bunker, probably a safety precaution. "Come over here!"
"What?" Tommy calls back as he walks toward Tubbo's voice, weaving through the rooms. When he turns the corner he comes face to face with Tubbo. Well, Tubbo and some tall, masked dude who's holding a kid.
"This is Ranboo." Tubbo points, and then smiles at the child in his arms. "And Michael."
"You pick them up off the side of the street or something?" Tommy asks skeptically, though he suspects he already knows the answer. Old habits die hard.
"Something like that. You have to look after them while I'm gone." Tubbo says. Tommy knows he's referencing the supply run they planned for in a week, and Tommy almost refuses. He wants to, but he can tell Tubbo is serious about this and he understands the importance of sticking together in a time like this. Plus, Michael is so young it'd be unfair to send him back out. He narrows his eyes.
"Alright," he agrees a little annoyed, " but don't expect me to be happy about it."
"Of course not," Tubbo grins widely, it eases a bit of Tommy's tension. Tommy turns to look Ranboo in the eye with his best judgemental look.
"Come on, boob boy. I'll show you around." Tommy motions for Ranboo to follow him before walking into the next room.
"Boob boy?" Ranboo follows, sounding a little distressed and it makes Tommy crack a smile.
"Are you American?" Tommy notes the accent after training his expression into something meaner. Ranboo nods. "I hate Americans!"
Tubbo laughs loudly from the other room.
Today is the day Tubbo leaves for the supply run. Tommy used to protest him leaving alone, but he's learned first hand that Tubbo is more than capable of handling himself. It also marks a week since Ranboo and Micheal have been living with them. Tommy will never admit it out loud, but they fit right in.
Michael speaks mostly in noises, grunts and groans. It reminds him of the zombies sometimes, but he does speak sometimes. Small words. He can't say their names, though, and has resorted to calling them "dad" for Ranboo, "papa" for Tubbo, and "Mimi" for Tommy. Michael is barely without sound.
Ranboo, on the other hand, while being able to talk barely does. Whether it's because he's shy or something else, Tommy doesn't know. He's quiet except for when Tubbo is around. It's irritating to Tommy, and he's taken to annoying Ranboo until he says something.
Case in point, they're playing cards currently.
"Go fish," Tommy says.
"This is poker," Ranboo replies, he sighs "and you're winning"
Tommy smiles to himself. He knew he was great at poker, he'd spent the past year playing with the genius that is Tubbo, and even before that he'd had an overly competitive room at the orphanage.
" 'Course I'm winning," he'd placed down the fifty chip he'd won from Ranboo last round. Ranboo sighed again.
"I fold,"
Tubbo walked into the room, with his packed bag and smiled at the two.
"Gonna see me off like usual, or are you too busy tricking Ranboo into thinking you're good at card games?"
"I am good at card games," Tommy declared. "The best."
Tubbo walked over to the large whiteboard behind Ranboo. Ranboo turned in his seat to watch as Tubbo flipped the board over. Written in sharpie were Tubbo and Tommy's names along with tally marks. On Tommy's side of the board, there were 13 or so marks, Tubbo had what looked like hundreds. Ranboo laughed and Tommy scoffed.
"That doesn't count," Tommy crosses his arms "you're you. I can beat everyone else."
"Sure Tommy," Tubbo smiled with fake sympathy. "Now, are you gonna come say goodbye or not?"
"I'll get Michael," Ranboo stood quietly and made his way out of the room with a slight smile.
"Be nice to them when I'm not here, alright?" Tubbo looked amused.
"Maybe to Michael," Tommy replied and Tubbo smiled wider. Tommy couldn't help but smile back a bit, no one knew him like Tubbo did. Guess the zombie apocalypse does that to people. "It's only a few days, they won't even be able to miss you."
"But you will. 'Oh when will Tubbo come back, where's Tubbo I need him to babysit me,' " Tubbo mocked. Tommy rolled his eyes.
"Mi mi mi mi mi, I'm Tubbo and I think I'm so funny and so smart." Tommy mocked back, and the two laughed.
"Papa!" Michael called from the door. They both turned to look and found Michael next to Ranboo. The boy started running at Tubbo with his slight limp. Michael only stopped when he hit Tubbo's leg and the three teens all smiled at the sight. He made a sad noise.
"I'll be back," Tubbo promised, there was a seriousness in his tone that took Tommy off guard. "But in the meantime you'll have dad and Mimi,"
Tommy cringed at the nickname being spoken by anyone other than Michael and Ranboo nodded in agreement with Tubbo's words. Tommy shot Ranboo a glare, Tubbo smiled.
"Make sure they don't kill each other, yeah?" Tubbo jokes and Michael hums, accepting his mission. He gives the boy a quick hug and then adjust his backpack straps. "Alright, I'm off."
"Be safe," Ranboo says.
"Give those zombies hell!" Tommy contrasts.
"Bye, guys!" Tubbo gives one last wave before exiting the room and eventually the bunker.
Four days ago. Tubbo was supposed to be back four days ago. Tommy is, suffice to say, worried as shit. And it shows.
He's gardening, it usually calms him down but every movement he makes is quick and tense, jolted. Michael is playing with his stuffed animal in the corner while Ranboo is tending to his own garden, some of the plants are starting to sprout. Out of anyone who could notice his panic, it's Michael.
The boy stands up, drawing Ranboo's attention, and toddles over to Tommy. He yanks lightly at his pant leg and Tommy looks down.
"Ok?" Michael asks. Tommy deflates. If Michael was speaking verbally, he must be really worried. He leans over and picks Michael up gently. It's more for his own comfort than Michael's.
"Yeah, big man," Tommy answers, "just waiting for tubs to get back."
"He'll be back soon," Ranboo tries to comfort.
"He was supposed to be back by now." Tommy hugs Michael a little closer to his chest. "days ago."
"He probably found people who needed help," Ranboo suggests, putting his spade gently in the dirt "you know how he is,"
Tommy nods, a little solemnly. Tommy did know how he was. At the beginning of the apocalypse when they'd first found the bunker, Tommy was worried it would become overrun with people if Tubbo kept inviting them to stay. They never did, though. They all had their own people to find, and back then there was still hope of finding them. A brown-haired musician looking for his twin brother, a blonde man in robes looking for his wife. Then the visits became far and a few between. Eventually stopping entirely, until Ranboo. Ranboo stayed, Michael stayed. Tommy was a little grateful for it now, otherwise, he'd have been alone in the bunker waiting for Tubbo to come back.
Then Tommy got an idea.
"We should go look for him."
"...what?"
"He might be lost," Tommy suggested knowing it was bullshit, if anyone would get lost it would be him. They even put the don't leave while the other is on supply runs rule in place because of it. "He could be stuck somewhere. Someone could've kidnapped him!"
"Who would've kidnapped him? There's not a soul alive for miles." Ranboo pointed out.
"You were out there! Someone else could be, and they could've realized that Tubbo was super useful for surviving the zombies." He set Michael back down and stripped off his gardening gloves, already thinking about packing a bag.
"I know there's no one around because I was out there. Tubbo will- he'll come back." Ranboo nods, more trying to convince himself then Tommy.
"He wouldn't go missing this long without reason." Tommy argues. "We have to go find him."
Michael grabs his hand and Tommy looks down surprised. When he looks back, Ranboo's face is scrunched and unsure.
"Tommy. Just- sleep on it at least." Ranboo pleads, and Michael tugs on his hand again.
"... fine." He reluctantly agrees.
The rest of the day is filled with awkward tension. Every moment of quiet in the room is thick. They eat dinner in silence. Canned potatoes have never tasted worse. Come nighttime, Tommy lays in his bed awake, listening to Michaels slight snores and Ranboo's soft breaths. They're asleep. He quietly gets out of bed and grabs his backpack from beside the bedroom door. He shoves it half full of random clothes, before escaping the room to the kitchen. He grabs some granola bars and figures he can get food along the way. He also grabs his flashlight from one of the cabinets. Then, Tommy walks into the bathroom and turns his flashlight on the low setting. He sets his almost fully packed bag on the counter with a light thud and starts to pack a small bag of disinfectant wipes. Then he hears a creak, and when he turns to look Ranboo is leaning against the doorframe.
"Tommy, it's a suicide mission." Ranboo says sleepily, whispering.
"I'm going anyway." He says and shoves some bandages into the bag. "Tubbo is still out there. He'd never die to a stupid zombie."
"What happened to sleeping on it?"
Tommy stayed quiet, just zipping up his backpack before shrugging it on. He turned to face Ranboo with determination. Ranboo looked sadly at him in return.
"Michael will miss you."
"He won't when I come back with Tubbo." Tommy shoves past Ranboo and makes his way over to the bunker's hatch room. Ranboo watches him go, regrettably.
Tommy looks up at the ladder leading to the exit and rolls up his sleeves. He hates this dumb ladder, it's narrow and shaky. But Tubbo is out there and this ladder can go fuck itself. Tommy climbs up the ladder. He notices a slip of paper in the hatch and grabs it. It was a note, that read:
Tommy, don't come looking for me. I'll come back as soon as I can. Look after Ranboo and Michael for me. - Tubbo
Tommy scowled.
Fuck you, Tubbo.