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Disclaimer: If you see this on any site besides Ao3, this fic was scraped by a bot. Don't know why they'd want this thing but ah well better safe then sorry.
Alright, so Purpled wasn’t exactly human.
That wasn’t really a secret or anything. Punz knew, the neighbors knew. Practically everyone at school knew. Purpled was pretty sure the government knew, but seeing as he hadn’t been dragged off to Area 51 just yet, it wasn’t a problem as far as he was concerned.
Though he was really sick of people at the farmer's market asking him to please return their cows.
Seriously. He definitely didn’t have crop circles in his backyard, or a flying saucer in his driveway, and he definitely did not steal Bessie, I’m telling the truth Farmer Joe c’mon you gotta believe me—
So when Ranboo came knocking one day, Purpled took one look and slammed the door shut in the poor guy’s face.
“Purpled, who was that?” Punz yelled from the kitchen.
“No one,” Purpled yelled back.
He knocked on the door again. Purpled ignored it.
“Purpled, can you please check who that is?” Punz yelled once more.
Purpled was halfway to the couch, eager to finish the rest of his comic book. “It’s the wind, Punz. Your imagination’s going wild again.”
He’d almost reached the couch when Punz dealt a killing blow.
“The security cams say otherwise. Answer the door and let the guy in, Purpled.”
Purpled cursed and turned mournfully away from his comic, trudging slowly. He heaved the door open just as the visitor was about to knock yet again.
“Fine, you can come in,” Purpled rolled his eyes. “Stop trying to break the door down.”
“I wasn’t,” Ranboo replied, but came in nonetheless, swinging his tail around his legs so Purpled had no chance of closing the door on it. It had happened before. “So, are you ready?”
Purpled gave him a flat look. “Does it look like it.”
“Hmm. No. But isn’t that, like, your default level of enthusiasm for anything?” Ranboo asked. “Honestly, you could just go as you are and no one would question it.”
Purpled’s antennae twitched in agitation at the Enderboy’s words. He said nothing, but huffed and turned away.
Ranboo trailed after him as Purpled crossed the living room and flopped onto his couch, the still-open comic book bouncing slightly on the cushions beside him from the force. The Enderboy walked until he was standing right in front of Purpled, where he could keep his glowing purple eyes focused on Purpled’s webbed feet, hidden in a pair of white socks.
Purpled glared defiantly at the space just above Ranboo’s head in return.
“So…are you—”
“Really, Ranboo?”
“Um. Er. Vwoorp. Yeah, I mean—”
“Purpled, do it,” Punz’s voice drifted in from the kitchen. “It won’t kill you.”
“I dunno, whenever you leave the house you seem to come back covered in suspicious stains,” Purpled shot back. Ranboo shivered.
Punz’s sigh was audible even from halfway across the house. “That’s different. It’s part of my job. Go, Purp—Ranboo has a decent amount of sanity, and you’re going with Tubbo and Tommy. Between the four of you, you probably won’t die.”
Ranboo’s tail flicked as he glanced at Purpled. “Uh—”
“Sounds like a terrible idea, and now I’m even more convinced you’re sending me to my death,” Purpled said, and reached for his comic book, idly flipping the page. Huh, looked like a new monster was about to make the heroes’ getaway vehicle implode. Cool. “Are you trying to collect my life insurance policy or something? Tubbo crashed us the last time we did something together.”
“Do you even have life insurance?” Ranboo wondered. “I dunno, I think you need a birth certificate and stuff before you can even think about applying for that…I didn’t dare.”
“Yet you’re asking me to do something as crazy as asking the government for photo identification?” Purpled asked drily.
Ranboo sighed. “Look, I—well, you—uh. Vwoop. Kertchee? Kertchee. Screetch.”
Purpled thought it was very amusing whenever Ranboo got flustered and forgot how to talk, in both English and Ender. Punz didn’t think so, however, and came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a dish towel to say so.
“Go with him, Purp,” he said as he flapped the dish towel in the boys’ direction. “Stop tormenting him. It’s a good opportunity, and they’re paying.”
Purpled’s antennae perked up. “Wait, pay? Ranboo, you never mentioned that!”
“I didn’t think I needed to!” Ranboo exclaimed, tail whipping around as the six-foot-tall giant of a teenage alien attempted to defend himself from the incoming wrath of an agitated Purpled. “I mean, we’re just doing some stuff for a kid’s party, those things are usually paid work!”
“Well, you should have mentioned it earlier! GImme a sec, I’ll be ready to leave in two!” Purpled yelled as he dashed up the stairs. Punz shook his head at his brother’s retreating back.
“Would have been nice if you’d mentioned the cash earlier,” he remarked to Ranboo. “He picked up a love for the bits from me, y’know.”
“The…bits?”
“The good stuff. Money. Y’know, the thing we use to exchange for other stuff that people pretend has worth but actually doesn’t.”
“Ah. Right.” It was times like these Ranboo wondered why he’d chosen English as the language he’d learn to fit in with the humans. He should’ve chosen literally any other language. Spanish, maybe. That one was popular. Or maybe German. It was close to English but didn’t have the hodgepodge of nuances that English did.
Maybe that was how Punz had felt when Purpled first turned up in a tree and made vague noises at him in Ender.
Purpled tromped down the stairs, his gold accessories flashing under the house lights. He had on a few other things—a blue bodysuit, some weird stuff Ranboo knew had been sourced from one of Punz’s old Halloween costumes. There were droopy things that were probably supposed to be extra limbs, because people on Earth apparently thought aliens had multiple legs. Ranboo himself had on a similar bodysuit, with similar accessories. Like antennae and a mask, to emphasize his purple eyes.
“So. Uh. Can we go?” Ranboo asked.
Purpled raised his eyebrows. They disappeared into his puffed-up hair. “What does it look like?”
“Alright, you two! Have fun, don’t make anyone cry too hard, and come back with your pockets jingling!” Punz grinned. Purpled flipped him off, and Ranboo hurriedly dragged the other boy out the door as Punz cackled.
Hopefully, the birthday kid wouldn’t get any trauma. But as long as they got the money, Purpled din’t mind saying he was an alien.
After all, the only thing that could beat a comic book was the smell of sweet, hard-earned cash.