Chapter Text
How Tubbo had managed to stay alive this long, he had no clue. But if someone put a gun to his head and forced him to explain, he’d probably just tell them it was spite and perhaps a chainsaw, which he’d then proceed to shove into their stomach. That had happened before, maybe a year and a half after this whole apocalypse thing began. He’d ended up covered in guts and blood from that whole debacle, which had been pretty annoying, but he’d also gained some supplies.
Luckily, where he currently was, there was really no one around. Correction: at least no people around.
Monsters, however, were a different story.
As a strange-looking, blood-thirsty creature with at least 3 pairs of eyes that had claimed a small convenience store as its lair eyed him, fully intent on killing him, Tubbo pulled out his chainsaw and readied himself for a fight. It wasn’t that hard- he knew how to strategize pretty well, where the best place to attack would be, and how to avoid getting hurt too much- which isn’t something a lot of others had been able to do, judging by the number of corpses on the floor.
But the monster was one of the more weaker ones, at least to him, although by the time it was dead, Tubbo was covered in its gore. It was not that great, but whatever. The young survivor strapped his chainsaw to his back once more, collecting whatever food and supplies he could get- and wasn’t expired. He looted the corpses as well, better him than them anyway, before continuing on his way.
Early on, most people tended to travel in groups, but Tubbo had preferred to be alone from the start. He had worked with a group before, but it hadn’t been willingly, and nor had it ended well for anyone. He didn’t like to think about it. At all.
His minimal interaction with other survivors now was pretty much limited to trading resources if they didn’t try to kill him first, and he was probably better off alone anyway. He was good at surviving, having grown up in the middle of the woods with a survivalist for a father, and although he had spent the first 14 years of his life thinking the man was missing a few marbles, now he thought it was quite worth it. It was kind of ironic, considering the man had died only a few months in, leaving his son to fend for himself, and in the two-and-a-half years since then, Tubbo had spent his time wandering from state to state, rather aimlessly. He had nothing to really live for, still, his brain was kind of hard-wired to survive on instinct. But if a massive crack suddenly opened in the ground, he probably wouldn’t try and run away.
Right now, though, the teenager was sitting down in the streets of wherever-the-fuck California, which did not have a massive crack in it, eating some beef jerky. It wasn’t the best, but it was something to live on.
After finishing his meal, he pushed himself up with one hand, scanning his surroundings to see if there was somewhere that may be safe for him to spend the night. A building somewhat in the distance seemed a bit promising, and as the sun dipped low in the horizon, Tubbo made it his goal to reach it before the sky was full of stars. From what he estimated, he would be able to make it in time.
His estimations were usually never wrong, including this one, and the sun had just disappeared, dipping below the skyline, as he reached his destination.
The building was old and weathered, made of cracking bricks and exposed metal beams. Tubbo held his chainsaw out in front of him, taking some cautious steps and scanning the inside for giant man-eating bugs or three-headed mutant creatures or whatever the hell could be hiding inside.
Everything appeared fine at first, and then shouts rang out from further in the building, seemingly human. Multiple people, Tubbo inferred. Two adults and two children.
Despite his brain telling him to get the fuck out of there, his legs carried him toward the sound in a sprint. He already knew what he was going to find.
And again, he was right. He could see two monsters attacking two different people, a younger man in probably his late 20s wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt, and a larger bald-headed guy, probably in his early-to-mid 30s. They didn’t appear to be winning the fight, and as Tubbo noticed the two young children huddled in a corner, instinct took over.
Everything was a blur as he pulled his chainsaw out again, running up and ramming it into the creature. There was a lot of yelling- Tubbo wasn’t really able to tell who it was from- and a lot of blood. He had the element of surprise, which did give him an advantage, but the creature still managed to get in a couple of hits, one of which knocked him to the ground. Tubbo only grit his teeth through the pain, got back up, and continued the fight.
By the time it all was finished, he was hunched over, breathing heavily. Blood covered him from head to toe, most of it belonging to the monster but some of it- okay, a lot of it- his own. He really hoped he wasn’t about to pass out right now, because in front of two strangers, that would be rather unfortunate.
“Holy shit,” a voice said. It was the bald guy, Tubbo realized, as he looked up. His voice was loud and gruff. “Holy shit, kid, that was fucking awesome. You just saved our fucking lives.”
“No problem,” Tubbo managed to get out, holding up a thumb’s up.
The guy in the blue sweatshirt approached him slowly.
“Are you alright?”
His voice sounded slightly softer than the other guys’, and he spoke with a Brazilian accent.
“I should be fine,” Tubbo told him, “I might have lost a bit of blood but I’ve had, like, a lot worse. It kinda happens with this whole apocalypse thing, and I’m always good so I’m like, 90 percent sure I’ll be fine, I just need- just need some medical supplies.”
“You are currently bleeding out as we speak,” The bald guy told him, helpfully pointing at his side. And of course, Tubbo had to look down at that.
There were three long gashes trailing down his side, soaking his green t-shirt with blood. As soon as he realized he was bleeding, his brain decided it was the best time to send pain signals, which sucked more than anything else that could probably happen at that moment. That itself was pretty excruciating, and he had to bite his lip to keep himself from showing it because he couldn’t show weakness in front of two people he didn’t even know. That would just be asking for a death sentence.
The Brazilian put a hand on his shoulder, pushing him down gently.
“Sit,” he told Tubbo, not unkindly, and the teenager really had no choice but to comply. He sat back against the wall and the Brazilian guy turned back to his companion.
“Fit,” he said, “Go grab me a first-aid kit.”
The bald guy, Fit, left, leaving Tubbo alone with the Brazilian.
“So, uh,” he began, and Tubbo realized he was asking for his name.
“Tubbo,” Tubbo told him.
“Tubbo. Okay, I’m Pac. You really saved our asses back there. Thank you.”
“Yeah!” a smaller voice piped in. Tubbo turned his head to see the children, two boys probably around 10 or 11, staring at him with wide eyes.
“That was incredible,” The younger one exclaimed. He had darker skin, with brown eyes and dark curly hair, and was wearing a yellow-and-green soccer jersey.
“Richarlyson,” Pac scolded him, “Keep it down. We don’t need to be attacked again.”
“Are they your kids?” Tubbo asked, then realized it was a stupid question. Of course, they were their kids.
“Yeah,” Pac told him. “The younger is Richas, he’s my son, and the older is Ramon, Fit’s son.”
“Oh.”
Pac began to ask him another question but was cut off by Fit re-entering the room they were in.
“Got it,” he said, handing a small red box to Pac. Tubbo tried to argue against it. He didn’t need people wasting things on him.
“I have some supplies in my backpack, you should use those instead of wasting yours-“
Pac cut him off. “I’m repaying the favor.”
The brunette kneeled down next to Tubbo, gently lifting the boy’s shirt partially to reveal the open wounds.
The cloth stuck to it a bit, which kind of hurt a bit. Pac muttered an apology before pressing a gauze to the wound. Tubbo tried to flinch back, since the wound stung pretty badly and he was unused to the touch.
“Sorry, sorry,” Pac apologized as the teenager hissed. “I’m almost done.”
He carefully wrapped Tubbo’s wound in bandages, tight enough so it would stay on but lose enough so he could still breathe. The Brazilian checked some of his other wounds as well, ignoring his protests.
Once he was done, Pac leaned back to meet Tubbo’s eyes.
“You should probably stay the night with us. It would actually be stupid of you to leave. Imagine all my hard work wasted if you were to just die.”
“Yeah,” Fit added. “If you die both of us will kill you for wasting our supplies.”
“Logically, that’s impossible,” Tubbo deadpanned. “And I’ve been on my own for years. I’m not going to die.”
Ramon and Richas looked at him pleadingly with puppy-dog eyes, and he sighed inwardly. He really couldn't say no to that, could he?
“Fiiiiine. I’ll stay. Only because the children want me to.”
Tubbo didn’t miss noticing both the children cheer silently, and the teen smirked wryly before leaning back against the wall. He watched as the others settled down, taking note of the way the two adults seemed to almost curl up into each other, the children cuddling close to them for warmth.
It was cute, almost, the way they were like a family. Tubbo kinda hoped nothing bad happened to them. But that was highly unlikely.
He didn’t actually try and fall asleep, even much later in the night. The people he was currently with made him feel like he needed to be there to protect them, although he didn’t really know why. He didn’t know if he’d ever had anyone like this. The last group of survivors he’d been practically holding him hostage. No, they had been holding him hostage. He still had memories of-
He really tried not to think about that at the moment, but unfortunately, his brain's reaction to that was to think about it more, which sent him into a spiral of sorts. Which was not ideal to do in the middle of the fucking night.
“Been through some shit, huh?”
Tubbo looked up to see Fit towering over him, and his breath caught in his throat. He just kind of looked at him nervously, because he’d obviously done something wrong, right? He probably looked really pathetic, which was just a totally wonderful position to be in, totally. He just kind of nodded and struggled to get out a response.
“Haven’t we all?”
The older man’s gaze softened, just barely, and he backed away from Tubbo to give him some space.
“Your name was Tubbo, right? Pac told me.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for saving us, Tubbo. I really mean it.”
“I feel like that’s kinda something anyone would do,” Tubbo replied unsurely.
“That’s where you’re wrong, kid. Believe me when I tell you this but people have tried to kill us before. It’s kill or be killed here.”
“By that logic that means you should have killed me already,” Tubbo argued.
“But you helped us. You could’ve just let us die and then took our loot, but you didn’t. Your first instinct was to help a bunch of strangers, and for what?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Tubbo said slowly. “Hell, I knew I might’ve been killed. But it's better than letting people who haven’t yet done anything just die like that, right? Nobody I’ve spoken to has said they would like to be killed by some blood-thirsty creature with, like, a hundred sets of teeth. Although I haven’t spoken to many people before they tried to stab me or something, so my observations may be wrong, but still.”
Fit, left with no response, only sighed and turned around to re-join his family, before speaking up once more.
“You are really confusing. But try and get some rest, okay? You’re going to need it.”
Tubbo really didn’t have any other choice but to comply.