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Barely a week after adopting him, Ranboo and Tubbo had already begun to discuss Michael's birthday.
Maybe that had been a bit overzealous. It was, after all, still three hundred and fifty-eight days away. But the pair were nothing if not enthusiastic parents, and the prospect of a Valentine's Day birthday (or, technically speaking, adoption day) had really been quite cute.
"He's gonna get so much chocolate every year. The really expensive ones, since his dad's a fucking gazillionaire." Tubbo's eyes lit up in the way Ranboo had begun to associate with being teased mercilessly.
"I don't- I just don't think that's a thing actually. Gazillion just isn't a number."
Tubbo shook his head slowly in mock disappointment "Are you saying our baby doesn't deserve all the chocolate a gazillion dollars can buy? Wow Ranboo, I never would have expected this cruelty from you."
Ranboo's eyes softened. "He deserves the whole world."
"Oh, don't tell me you're gonna get all sappy," Tubbo laughed.
"No, I just… well, maybe honestly, but…"
He sighed, a slight smile evident on his lips. "It's just still hard to believe this is real. We really just have a child now."
Tubbo grinned. "Yup. Terrifying, isn't it?"
"Definitely. But he's also perfect. I'm just… I'm really happy Tubbo. And I want to give him everything he could ever want. So I guess if that means I have to spend a gazillion dollars on Valentine's chocolate to give him a good birthday…well."
"That is one hundred percent what it means Ranboo. If you want to be a good father you're going to need to buy him all the chocolate on the planet, I don't make the rules."
"You- you literally do make the rules. You're making this up right now."
"I don't make the rules Ranboo, I just enforce them."
Ranboo's eyes betrayed their amusement, and Tubbo felt he could live in that moment forever. It was the small things like this, the banter and inconsequential conversations and the casual discussion of their son, and the future- it was things like this that made everything worth it. Not even a month ago, he had gazed out over a sunset and thought it was his last. Now, for the first time in a long time, he felt like there was something to live for. Tubbo didn't believe in happy endings, but if anyone deserved one it was Michael. Only a week into parenthood and Tubbo already knew he would stop at nothing to keep his kid happy and safe.
"Seriously though," he continued, "we can agree Michael is going to have the best birthdays ever, yeah?"
"Oh, absolutely."
___
Three hundred and fifty-eight days later, Tubbo would give anything to make that statement true. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Michael should be turning four today in Snowchester, with both his dads by his side singing a (probably off-key) rendition of happy birthday. He should be surrounded by gifts, warm and safe and happy. Maybe, in a better life, Tommy would be there too, and they would all be listening to discs together. But this is Tubbo's life, and when has his life ever gone well?
When Michael wakes up this morning, he will be in the drafty basement of Ranboo's old house in the arctic. The ghost that really can't replace his father will not sing to him. Resources have been tight lately, and hard as he tried, the pile of gifts Tubbo has managed is nowhere near as big as Michael deserves. The last time Tubbo even saw Tommy was nearly a month ago and to be honest, as much as it hurt, Tubbo didn't trust him around children right now.
All in all, it was not exactly the day Tubbo had imagined it would be. But he owed it to Michael to try his best at the very least.
Michael awoke to the clang of metal hitting the floor.
"Shit!"
Giggling a bit to himself at the word he knew he wasn't supposed to hear, Michael clambered up the ladder into the kitchen. Usually, his dad helped him with the ladder, but he was a big boy now. Four whole years. It sounded a lot bigger than three, and Michael figured it was definitely old enough to climb ladders alone. After what was probably a longer time than it would've been with help, he peeked his head into the kitchen. His dad was making something, and most of that something seemed to be splattered on the floor. He looked pretty upset, but smiled upon noticing Michael.
"Michael! Did you climb the ladder all by yourself?" Michael nodded proudly.
"That's very impressive. Make sure you're being careful though, alright? We don't want you falling down." Michael nodded again.
"Well happy birthday! How old are you now?"
Michael giggled. "You know!"
"Hmm, I'm not sure. Are you…fifty-seven?" Tubbo was grinning now.
"NO! I'm four!"
"Wow, four years old! Well, we'll have to celebrate that, won't we? It uh, might be a bit 'till the cake's ready though." He frowned and glanced down at the splatter. So that's what that was supposed to be. Cake sounded pretty good, though Michael couldn't think of what it tasted like. What he was most looking forward to was the presents. His dad had explained the concept of birthday presents earlier that week. He would get new things just for him, and they would come in colourful paper that he could tear up and make a mess of on purpose. That part was a bit confusing, because normally he wasn't supposed to make a mess. He didn't question it though, because if he questioned it his dad might realize that it was against the rules and decide he wasn't allowed to open presents anymore.
"When are the presents?"
Tubbo laughed. "Someone's excited." Michael stared at him expectantly. "You can open them now if you want to, or we could have breakfast first. I’m going to make pancakes."
Michael squinted. "With syrup and chocolate sauce?"
"Of course. It's your birthday big man."
"And… and chocolate chips and banana and honey?"
Tubbo laughed again. "Whatever you want bud. But try to have some pancake with all your toppings."
"Mhmm! But I wanna do presents first."
__
Tubbo couldn't help but smile at his son. The way his face lit up with joy upon seeing the small pile of presents was truly adorable. "All for me?"
"Yeah bud, who else?"
They were in Ranboo's old living room, and while the decoration choices were questionable to say the least (the red and green carpet clashed horribly and the hand-drawn "live laugh love" sign didn't help), the scene was lovely nonetheless. As much as Tubbo wished they could be doing this under better circumstances, he couldn't deny that Michael was thrilled.
He was peeling the paper off a small box in a way Tubbo felt was entirely too delicate. There was hardly a single piece of stray wrapping paper littering the carpet. After almost five minutes of concentration, he triumphantly pulled the paper off the box in (nearly) one piece and opened it to reveal a plush chicken.
"Chicken!"
"That's right." Tubbo was filled with endearment as he watched his son. Michael, unable to contain his excitement, was currently jumping around the room with the plushie in hand.
"Are you going to name him?"
"Yeah but I dunno what. I think…" Michael trailed off, distracted. "I forgot there's more presents!" Still holding the yet unnamed chicken, he resumed his place next to the pile and continued unwrapping.
Four gifts later, Michael was beaming. In addition to the plushie, Tubbo had gotten him a new set of crayons and made him an assortment of hand-carved wooden toys. He had taken a particular liking to a small dragon, which was by far the most intricate of the lot. Though Tubbo had been disappointed by the gifts that, in his eyes, were mostly mediocre, he couldn't help but grin seeing Michael so happy. He would be content to sit and watch him play all day.
Unfortunately, the growl of his stomach reminded him that they really ought to eat at some point. With a sigh, he got to his feet.
“I know you’re having fun with the dragon right now, but I think it’s time for pancakes. Do you want to come help me make them, or do you want to stay here until they’re ready?”
Michael thought for a long moment. Weekly pancake breakfasts had at one point been an _Beloved family tradition. Michael had “helped” Tubbo in the kitchen more than a few times, and although prepping pancake batter took about five times longer with double the mess when a toddler was involved, Tubbo loved having his son in the kitchen with him. He had missed the tradition quite a lot over the past few months. Michael had too, it seemed, as he replied, “I wanna help. But I wanna bring my toys in the kitchen.”
“How about you just bring one toy? If you bring all of them they could get in the way.”
Michael considered this carefully. “Okay.”
Dragon in hand, he sprinted full speed toward the kitchen, paying no mind to Tubbo's startled shout of "Careful!"
Making pancakes wasn't difficult, although there was a small incident involving an entire cup of milk spilled down Michael's shirt. After a brief break to change Michael into new clothes—a shirt with little hearts on it that Michael adored and overalls—they were back in action.
"I wanna crack the egg!"
Tubbo glanced over at his son. "That's a difficult job, remember? You can stir after I put the eggs in."
Michael frowned pleadingly. "Imma big boy now, so I can crack the eggs."
Tubbo let out a sigh. He should probably stop giving into Michael's puppy dog eyes, but at the same time, it was his birthday, and Tubbo had never been good at telling him no. How much mess could he make, realistically? Nothing unmanageable, surely. "Oh, alright. Just let me show you how first."
Michael grinned as Tubbo showed him how to crack the egg so that there was no spill, or shell in the batter. It didn't look that hard, and when it was his turn he enthusiastically hit his egg against the counter in what he thought was the same way his father had. Fragments of shell and raw egg splattered across the counter. Michael stared in shock while Tubbo looked upon the scene with resignation.
"It's alright, it was your first try. We can clean it up easily enough."
Michael's lip wobbled slightly but he nodded.
"Do you want to try cracking another one or do you want me to do it?"
"You do it." Michael sniffed.
"Michael, it's okay, yeah? I'll crack the egg if you want me to, but there's no harm done. Nobody can do something perfectly the first time they try it."
Michael sniffed again, but he smiled slightly.
Five minutes later, the incident was almost completely forgotten. Michael stirred the batter with enthusiasm until Tubbo declared it done, and began playing with his dragon again while the pancakes cooked. Though he had only had it for less than an hour Michael was quickly growing attached to the toy.
"His name is Fire 'cause he breathes fire, and his favourite colour is red."
"Is that right?"
"Uh-huh. And his favourite food is steak but he hates carrots, even though I like carrots."
"It sounds like he has quite the personality.” Tubbo turned from his spot at the stove and smiled at Michael. “I'm glad you like your gifts."
"They're good!"
—
The pancakes were cooked perfectly. Michael had put a small mountain of toppings onto his, and way more maple syrup than he was usually allowed. He was eating so quickly Tubbo was slightly worried he would start choking.
With Michael distracted, Tubbo began to mentally plan the rest of the day. It was late morning. He had let Michael sleep in that morning in hopes that the cake could be in the oven before he awoke. Of course, the cake was splattered across the floor now— Tubbo would have to find time to make another. He could let Michael help, but at this point, he just wanted to get it made as quickly as possible.
His gaze wandered out the window. Techno had reached out earlier that week, saying he had a birthday present for Michael. Tubbo had been debating whether or not he should actually bring Michael over, but the weather made him more inclined to indulge Techno’s request. While still quite cold, it was warmer than it had been in months, and Michael hadn't gotten nearly enough fresh air lately. The walk over to Techno and Phil's was short but it might even be a good idea to take him outside again later. Besides, he couldn't avoid Techno forever.
He resigned himself to paying the man a visit later, once Michael has a bit more time to test out his gifts.
—
Techno opened the door with a blank stare.
“Tubbo.”
Tubbo shifted awkwardly. “Uh, Michael’s birthday?”
“Oh, right. Come in.” His lip curved into a smile as Michael ran past him.
Phil wasn’t home, but he had made some tea before leaving. Techno poured two mugs. There was an awkward tension in the room. Admittedly, Techno had never been the best in social situations. But he had a feeling anyone would be a bit awkward if they were in the same room as a teenager they had once murdered, who also happened to be the widowed husband of their past mentee. His life was weird. He entered the living room and looked at the teen in question. Tubbo was standing awkwardly next to an armchair while Michael played with some sort of wooden toy.
“You can uh. You can sit down y'know.” Tubbo looked up at him, then slowly lowered himself into the chair. Techno handed him the tea before turning to Michael.
“Hey kid. Happy birthday.” He kneeled down and presented Michael with a small sword.
Noticing Tubbo tense, Techno turned to him. "Don't worry, it's just a practice sword. It won't do any real damage."
Tubbo still looked uneasy, but he allowed Techno to continue. "This'll help you learn, so when you're old enough to get a real sword you'll already know how to use it."
Michael gripped the sword and swung it excitedly through the air, letting out a battle cry. Techno laughed.
"That's the spirit." He glanced up at Tubbo again. "I can give him lessons, teach him how to use it. Just so he knows how to defend himself."
"I was hoping he wouldn't have to deal with fighting."
"It doesn't have to be fighting. Even on a peaceful server there’s always monsters. That alone should be worth it."
Tubbo sighed. "Fine. But just so that he can defend against monsters. And only the practice sword."
"Of course."
Michael did not share his father's reservations. He began swinging the sword around the room, coming dangerously close to knocking over Techno's items.
"Look, Techno," Tubbo started. He sighed again. "I still need to make Michael's cake, and it would be faster if he was distracted…"
"I can watch him."
Although this was what he had been aiming for, Tubbo still looked hesitant.
"You'll be like two minutes away if anythin' happens. We'll be fine."
Tubbo nodded. "Okay Michael, I'm just going to go home for a little bit. Do you want to stay here with Techno?"
Michael barely glanced up, enamoured with the sword.
"Okay!"
__
It was well into the afternoon as Tubbo set the cake out to cool. He glanced out the window to see the sun beginning to sink down the horizon. If he wanted to let Michael play outside today he should pick him up from Techno's soon. With that in mind, he headed back over.
Michael lit up upon seeing him, and began excitedly speaking about his time spent with Techno. Tubbo listened dutifully as they walked, until they reached the small spot near the trees that had become Michael's unofficial play area. Maybe next year Tubbo could get a swing set to put here. Of course, if all went well they would be living somewhere else next year…
Michael snapped Tubbo out of his thoughts by aiming a snowball at his face.
Tubbo sputtered in shock before grinning. "Oh, so that's how it is, huh?"
Michael shrieked with laughter as he ran away.
—
A few hours later, the pair finally sat down to have cake. Tubbo did make sure Michael ate a small dinner of potatoes and peas first, but they could afford to go one day without worrying about eating healthily.
The cake was chocolate, with messy pink icing spread somewhat haphazardly over it. Tubbo pretended not to see Michael sneaking icing off the cake as he slid him his slice. He flapped his hands excitedly after trying the first bite, and Tubbo was struck with a thought. Surely this wasn't Michael's first time having cake, right? But as he searched his memories for another time, he came up blank. The last time he had made cake was for Ranboo's birthday, and… he would rather not think about that day.
Tubbo picked at his cake, smiling slightly at Michael's cheer. He almost wanted to make cake every day if it meant seeing Michael happy. It scared him sometimes how much he would do for Michael.
For now though, he could just sit and watch Michael's excitement at trying a new food.
There was a knock at the door, the sound echoing in a way that didn't quite seem natural. Tubbo froze glancing out the window.
The ghost was standing on the front porch.
He hadn't spoken to him since the night they brought Michael back. To be honest, Tubbo was alright with that. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't connect his husband to that…thing. They weren't the same. They couldn't be, because his husband was amazing and beautiful and full of life , and the ghost wasn't. It was empty and shallow and wrong . But it was also waiting to be let into his house.
Michael's eyes lit up as he saw him.
"Dad's here!"
"Just wait Michael."
Shaking slightly, but not knowing what else to do, Tubbo got up and pulled the door open. "Hello?"
"Tubbo."
They both paused.
"Um," the ghost started, "I wanted to see Michael. It's his birthday."
"I know it's his birthday."
"...Well?"
With a sigh, Tubbo stepped aside and let him in.
He walked (glided?) towards Michael, and knelt down to meet his eyes.
"Happy birthday Michael! You're so big now!"
Michael grinned. "Four years!"
"Mhmm, and I got you a gift." He pulled a small box out from beneath his shawl and handed it to Michael. "Sorry I wasn't able to wrap it.
"Chocolate!"
Sure enough, it was a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Though Michael hadn’t yet had the chance to try much candy, chocolate was his favourite so far. He began struggling with the ribbon that was holding the box closed.
The ghost turned to Tubbo, who stared blankly.
"I got you something as well." He pulled out a small bouquet of pink tulips and held it out in offering, shaking his hand slightly when Tubbo hesitated.
Tubbo took them silently. After an uncomfortable pause, the ghost broke the silence. "I can... I can leave if you don't want me here. Have a good day Tubbo."
He paused another moment, as if hoping Tubbo would tell him to stay. Tubbo just looked at him. Here was Ranboo, in front of him again, giving him gifts…but it wasn't Ranboo. Not really. He knew he should tell him to stay, but… as horrible as it felt, part of him really just wanted to be left alone with Michael. Before he could make up his mind, the ghost had turned to leave, planting a small kiss on Michael's forehead.
"Leaving?" Michael questioned as the door shut, disappointment in his voice.
"Yeah. He's leaving." Tubbo took a deep breath. "It's getting late bud. How about you finish your cake and then we'll get you tucked into bed?"
Tubbo's stomach dropped at Michael's frown. But while he couldn't deny his motivations were a bit selfish, it really was getting late.
Through the window, the sun was setting as the ghost walked off.
—
Tubbo tucked Michael into bed carefully.
“Did you have fun today?”
“Michael nodded, yawning. “ I like cake. And presents. And playing outside…” he trailed off sleepily.
Tubbo smiled at him. “Try and get some rest, alright?” He crossed the room and put a disc full of lullabies into the jukebox. Music was the only way Michael would sleep through the night.
Tubbo really needed Michael to sleep well tonight.
He hadn’t left Michael alone since getting him back. The idea terrified him. But Tubbo had something he needed to do tonight.
He had set up about five different house alarms that would immediately notify him if anyone entered the house. On top of that, he had installed about three separate locks on every door. Techno and Phil were right next door, as despite his reservations Tubbo knew they would protect Michael if anything were to happen. It would be fine.
Nevertheless, he felt anxiety deep in his stomach as he left the house with a bouquet of flowers.
It took about half an hour to reach Snowchester.
The moon was nearly full, and its rays danced on the snow. There were no clouds to block the light, and the stars were brighter than Tubbo had seen in ages. Of course, Tubbo hadn't been outside at night to look at the stars in quite some time. Not since…
Well.
He and Ranboo used to stargaze together. Making up constellations had been a favourite game of theirs. It started during late nights in New L'manburg, when Tubbo was far too stressed to sleep. Eventually, it became a tradition. The stars never looked quite the same in any two places. Back in New L'manburg they had always had a hazy quality, the light of the city's lanterns giving the sky a slight yellow tint. The cookie outposts' close proximity to the bright lights of Las Nevadas meant there were almost no stars there at all.
Here in Snowchester, the stars were sharp and intense. They seemed to glare down at Tubbo as he walked, until finally he reached the small copse of trees he had been heading towards.
The headstone was small and unassuming. If you didn't know it was there you probably wouldn't even notice it. He hadn't been out here since December. Nothing had quite felt real then. In all honesty, it still didn't feel real. It didn't help that the ghost kept wandering around, seemingly determined to prevent Tubbo from moving past his grief.
He sat down, setting the flowers gently beside him. At that moment, looking up at the stars, he could almost imagine Ranboo was sitting next to him again.
"Happy Valentine's Day."