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Tommy sits quietly on the couch, watching Ranboo play with Tubbo.
Tubbo is only two right now, babbling away to Ranboo and stacking blocks haphazardly. Ranboo nods along to Tubbo, occasionally answering questions, even if the questions are only halfway understandable. Tubbo, of course, is delighted whenever Ranboo responds to something he says.
But Tommy is upset. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest, and he glares at the two on the floor. Ranboo’s facing away from him and doesn’t notice, just keeps helping Tubbo stack blocks. Ranboo doesn’t know that Tommy’s small, too, but they should be able to tell!
Tommy’s not even that little, he never is, only seven or eight. But he wants attention anyways, he wants Ranboo to notice that he’s small and take care of him, too! Even if Tommy doesn’t want any baby things, he still wants Ranboo to help him with things.
But Ranboo doesn’t turn around, so Tommy sighs quietly and grabs his phone. What he really wants is to watch The Muppets, but to do that, he’ll have to actively tell Ranboo he’s small, and there’s no way he’s doing that. Tommy’s a stubborn little.
After another half hour, Tubbo starts yawning.
“Aw, I think it’s nap time for the baby,” Ranboo cooes, booping Tubbo on the nose. They turn to Tommy. “Hey, Tommy, can you watch Tubbo while I make him a bottle? It’s his nap time.”
Tommy nods, putting his phone on the couch and dropping to the floor next to Tubbo. Ranboo smiles, hopping up and going into the kitchen. Tommy looks sullenly at Tubbo, who smiles obliviously.
“Toms!” Tubbo slurs happily around his yellow Minecraft bee-themed pacifier, holding out a block. “Bui’d?”
Tommy scoffs, smacking the block out of Tubbo’s hand.
Tubbo stares at him, betrayed. “Toms?”
Tommy shakes his head, staring off towards the kitchen door with crossed arms. He doesn’t want to watch Tubbo right now, and besides, he’s too young to be watching a baby on his own - he’s only four or five years older than Tubbo, after all.
“Toms,” Tubbo mumbles again, touching Tommy gently on the arm with one finger.
“Don’t [fudging] touch me!” Tommy snaps, slapping Tubbo’s hand. Hard.
Tubbo stares at him with watery eyes. “Toms,” he whispers, tears starting to roll down his face.
Then the real waterworks begin.
Tommy scoffs as Tubbo starts wailing. Tubbo’s being overdramatic, it didn’t hurt that much! Ranboo skids back into the room quickly, dropping to the ground next to Tubbo and Tommy.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Ranboo asks worriedly, tucking a piece of Tubbo’s hair behind his ear.
Tubbo takes gulping breaths between sobs, pointing a shaky finger at Tommy. The tattletale, Tommy thinks scornfully as Ranboo turns to him.
“Did you hurt the baby?” Ranboo asks.
“He touched me,” Tommy mumbles stubbornly, crossing his arms.
“Did you hurt the baby?” Ranboo repeats flatly.
“Yeah, but-” Tommy starts.
“No buts!” Tommy flinches at the shout, but Ranboo doesn’t seem to notice. “Why would you hurt the baby, Tommy?! He’s only two!”
“But-” Tommy tries again, eyes swimming with tears.
Still, Ranboo doesn’t notice anything’s wrong. “Don’t argue, Tommy! I don’t want you to talk to me! Leave. The baby. Alone!”
Tommy stands up abruptly, speed-walking away, wiping tears from his eyes as he goes. His papa didn’t need to yell at him, did they not know that Tommy was small? Of course they knew, they’re Tommy’s papa! They know everything!
But if they yelled at him, then that means Tommy did something really, really bad. And that needs the timeout chair, which is in the corner of their designated nursery room, facing the nursery. Tommy sits in that chair, curls his knees up to his chest, buries his face in his knees.
And sobs.
Ranboo shakes their head in disbelief. Tommy’s not normally this rude, especially not to Baby Tubbo, not even when he’s really stressed. Ranboo doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but he needs to take it somewhere away from the baby.
Ranboo sits next to Tubbo, holding their arms out to the baby. “You want your bottle and a nap now, baby?”
Tubbo just stares at Ranboo, and, for a second, they think maybe he’s regressed too far to understand what’s going on (even though he’s never been under a year before, there’s a first time for everything), but then Tubbo asks softly, “Toms timeou’?”
“Toms isn’t small right now,” Ranboo explains awkwardly. “He was just being a rude muffin.”
Tubbo looks confused. “Bu’… bu’ Toms ‘mall…”
“No, baby, Toms isn’t small. Which means he doesn’t get a timeout, since he’s an adult, and adults don’t get timeouts.”
“Toms ‘mall,” Tubbo repeats, sounding frustrated. “‘Mall!”
“Okay, baby,” Ranboo says placatingly. “Toms is small. He just put himself in timeout, okay?”
“‘Tay,” Tubbo mumbles, pressing his Minecraft bee stuffie (named Buzz, of course) to his face.
“Let’s go to the nursery so you can have your bottle, yeah?”
“Bo’le he’e,” Tubbo insists.
Ranboo smiles indulgently. “Alright, baby. Bottle in here.”
Ranboo lifts Tubbo, sitting in the big, soft rocking chair with him, and takes his paci, replacing it with the bottle. Tubbo drinks the bottle slowly, but he stops suckling about halfway through. When Ranboo checks why, he’s fast asleep. With a soft laugh, Ranboo replaces the bottle with the paci and stands up with Tubbo to bring him to the nursery and put him to sleep in his crib.
But when Ranboo goes into the nursery, they see that Tommy has actually put himself into timeout, sitting in the chair in the corner. Ranboo’s breath catches in horror.
They yelled at a child.
Tommy hears someone come into the nursery. It’s Ranboo, they’re here to punish him for being rude to Tommy, they haven’t ever spanked him but if he spanked Tommy after years of being a good caregiver then Ranboo might, too, and-
“Tommy?”
Tommy flinches violently, shaking his head. He doesn’t want to be spanked, he hates being spanked, he never wants to be spanked again, please, please, don’t-
“Tommy, I’m not going to hurt you.” Ranboo’s voice is soothing, but it doesn’t calm Tommy down. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, sunshine. I didn’t know you were small. I thought you’d be alright with it, I was mostly joking, I wasn’t that angry with you, I promise. I do that when you’re big all the time, but I should’ve checked to make sure before I did that.”
Tommy peeks his head out slightly from behind his knees, staring at Ranboo with watery eyes. They look sincere, and they sound sincere, but Tommy isn’t sure if they actually are. His eye catches on movement from the corner, and he cranes his neck to see Tubbo, sitting up in the crib. Tommy points to Tubbo, and Ranboo turns around.
“Oh, baby, go back to sleep,” Ranboo says. “I’m talking with Tommy, alright? It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about it.”
Tubbo clambers out of the crib, then crawls over to Tommy.
“Toms no cry,” Tubbo mumbles, poking Tommy’s cheek.
“Sorry,” Tommy whispers, wiping the tears from his face.
“It’s alright that Toms is crying, baby,” Ranboo tells Tubbo, ruffling his hair with one hand. “It’s Papa’s fault that Toms is crying. I’m trying to make it better.”
Tommy hesitates. “Didn’t know I was small?”
“That’s right, sunshine.”
“Oh.” Tommy considers this. “Okay.”
“But, sunshine, you shouldn’t’ve hit your baby brother. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you about it, but you shouldn’t’ve done it. Do you understand?”
Tommy nods sadly. “Was rude muffin.”
“Yeah, sunshine. You were a rude muffin.”
“Timeout?”
“No, I’m not going to give you a timeout. You’ve already been in timeout for- what, fifteen minutes now? A bit more than fifteen minutes. You’ve already had your full punishment time, haven’t you?”
Tommy nods. He knows he gets five minutes in timeout for being verbally mean, ten minutes for disobeying Ranboo, and fifteen minutes for hitting (unless it’s a ‘repeated offense’, as Ranboo calls it - then, they decide exactly how long Tommy needs). So, yeah, he’s already had all of his time.
“Toms no timeou’?” Tubbo asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes with one wrist and yawning. Ranboo deftly catches his paci as it falls from his mouth, popping it back in, to Tubbo’s delight.
“Toms isn’t going to get another timeout,” Ranboo agrees. Then they hesitate, turning to Tommy. “I’m curious, though: why did you hit Tubbo in the first place?”
“Bee baby and I seven,” Tommy explains haltingly. “Papa helps Bee, no help me. Wants help too.”
“Oh, sunshine,” Ranboo murmurs, tucking a strand of Tommy’s hair behind his ear. “You can tell me whenever you’re feeling small, you know. I’m sorry if I haven’t made that clear. Even if I’m already playing with Bee, or taking care of him, or doing something else, you can always say something. Do you want anything now?”
Tommy hesitates. “Um, sippy? Appa juice?”
“Apple juice it is,” Ranboo declares, scooping Tubbo up onto their hip as they stand up and take Tommy by the hand. “Come on, sunshine. We’re all going to the kitchen.”
On their way past one of the shelves in the nursery, Ranboo stops Tommy. “Get your sippy from that box there, sunshine.”
Tommy gets the red and white sippy obediently, also grabbing his paci, slipping that secretively into his pocket. He’s almost never used the paci, but he thinks, maybe, he’s small enough for it today. Ranboo kisses Tommy’s head, then continues walking, out of the nursery and to the kitchen.
Tommy sits down at the table when they reach the kitchen, watching Ranboo maneuvering with Tubbo balanced carefully in their arms. After a very stressful and interesting few minutes, Ranboo turns back around holding Tommy’s full sippy and the rest of Tubbo’s bottle.
“Let’s go to the living room,” Ranboo offers.
“Alright, Papa,” Tommy agrees. The three of them go into the living room together.
Ranboo turns on The Muppets, Little Tommy’s favorite movie (and Baby Tubbo’s, but that’s mostly because Baby Tubbo insists on liking everything Little Tommy likes), and sits on one end of the couch to give Tubbo the second half of his bottle. Tommy curls up next to Ranboo, taking small mouthfuls from his sippy.
Halfway through the movie, when Tubbo is asleep and Tommy’s just chewing on the spout of his empty sippy, Ranboo bumps his shoulder lightly into Tommy’s.
“You can use your paci, if you want,” Ranboo whispers, as if it’s a really big secret that nobody else can know.
Tommy flushes bright red, hiding his face in his hands.
“It’s alright, sunshine. I saw you get it, and it’s okay to use your paci. That’s the reason I got it for you, after all.”
Tommy hesitates. “Even if ‘m not paci age?”
“Sunshine, any age is paci age. I know you’re only five, but you can still use your paci.”
Tommy nods determinedly, pulls the paci out of his pocket, pops the protective cap off of the teat, and sticks it into his mouth.
“There’s my brave little sunshine,” Ranboo cooes, kissing Tommy’s hair. “Now, hush, this is my favorite part.”
Tommy giggles.