Archive of Our Own

“Are you sure we can pull this off?”

The outside air of the town is cool as they exit the tavern, Tubbo in the lead with Ranboo in tow. Tubbo holds a rolled-up piece of parchment in his left hand, and his right lays resting over the flap of his side bag. He halts about twenty feet from the tavern entrance and turns to look over his shoulder, up at Ranboo.

“Why wouldn’t we be able to?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. “We’ve dealt with vamps before. We’ve got this, you and I.” He gives Ranboo a gentle elbow to the arm. Ranboo isn’t too convinced.

“Vampire spawn,” Ranboo reminds him. “That’s not like the real thing at all. Real vampires are - they’re faster, stronger, tougher, the stakes don’t even kill them!”

Tubbo lets out a small sigh. His face crinkles in frustration, and his goat’s nose twitches as he opens the flap to his side bag and sticks his hand in. It sinks deeper, first his wrist, then forearm, then past his elbow, and it only stops about halfway up his upper arm. “Look, here,” he says, finally procuring a small pouch, “Take this.”

He tosses it to Ranboo. When Ranboo catches it, the pouch clinks.

“Your money?”

“Yeah, take it, and - I’ll head back to our place,” Tubbo starts to explain, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, “and you take a detour to that alchemist’s shop, restock your component pouch, on me. Get everything you need for tonight, and it’ll be easy.”

Ranboo makes a soft noise of protest. “Tubbo.”

“What?”

“I’m worried,” Ranboo says. His tail swishes back and forth atop the cobblestone road. “I don’t want you getting hurt! I just - I don’t think we’re ready for this sort of thing, even if-” and he gestures to the paper in Tubbo’s hand, “-even if it pays a lot. Like, no use in having gold if we’re dead, you know?”

Tubbo sighs. “Do you want to talk about this after we go shopping? I’ll come with you.”

Ranboo deflates. “Yeah, alright.”

The alchemy shop isn’t the fanciest thing. Upon arrival and a bit of browsing, they’re able to restock several of Ranboo’s more commonly used reagents for not too terrible of a price point. Birchfall, the town they’re lodging in, doesn’t get too much traffic, and the locals are appreciative of most of the business they get. It used to be a hotspot for adventuring stops, so they say, but with the construction of better, faster routes for travel, it’s started to fall off the map quite a bit.

Ranboo prefers the quieter towns. He and Tubbo don’t visit them a lot, because all the work is in the cities - and Tubbo loves the cities. They’re home to most of the wizards and artificers, a class of people that Tubbo has no problem inserting himself into in order to talk about new contraptions he’s made or tried, and it usually works out pretty well for him. 

The same, however, cannot be said for Ranboo, who has learned to keep his mouth shut. As much as he likes to talk, his tendency to stammer, repeat himself to the point of redundancy, and change opinions depending on whichever way the wind blows does not give him the greatest social skills. At least, in a small town, Ranboo won’t be there long enough to give a lasting impression. 

He’ll miss Birchfall, though. The local foliage is extremely beautiful, especially at this time of year: tall, sprawling oak trees in fiery oranges and yellows, fallen leaves scattered across the streets like confetti, and in the late afternoon sun, it takes on a dappled glow that bathes the whole market in muted warmth.

They leave the alchemy shop with Tubbo’s purse lighter and Ranboo’s pouch heavier. Tubbo was right about one thing - Ranboo does feel better now that he has enough components for three times any job they’ve ever done before. 

“Anything else you want to check out while we’re here?” Tubbo asks, lightly brushing Ranboo’s shoulder with his own in a friendly gesture.

Ranboo smiles, then purses his lips, tilting his head from side to side as he gazes around the market in thought. “Food? You were too focused on the bulletin board for us to get anything while we were at the tavern.”

“Sure. I saw a stand back there selling sesame balls - the line was a bit long but honestly, I’m willing to stand in it, if that appeals to you as much as it does to me.”

Ranboo nods. “You want company?”

“I won’t say no, but you can keep looking around if you want.”

Under normal circumstances, Ranboo would join him, but he hesitates, looking around at the market. Tubbo waves his hand at him.

“Go. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Ranboo hesitates too long in responding, and Tubbo’s already left him by the time he manages to get a protest on the tip of his tongue. The indignation quickly dies out, and he sighs.

Tubbo is right about one thing, though, and it’s that Ranboo enjoys wandering. Most of the stalls are open tables covered by shade canopies, sometimes with sheer curtains or dangling strings of beads as walls - but always visible enough to see what’s being sold. Ranboo passes by a few shops selling clothes, manages to get caught on a stall that insists he try their jewelry on his horns (he looks silly, but returns the rings and says he’ll think about it anyways,) and lingers near a table filled to the brim with potted flowers. He smells a rose and then sneezes into a fern.

The shopkeep ushers him away from their booth.

At the end of the row, a shop unlike the others catches Ranboo’s eye. He’s not sure what they’re selling, because thick red curtains hang around the entire setup, but there’s an ‘OPEN’ sign hung on the front. Ranboo peeks inside.

Immediately, Ranboo’s nose twitches. The sharp scent of mint floods his nostrils. 

The tent is incredibly dim, with only ambient light peeking through the cracks in the draping. It’s also more spacious than it seemed, housing several rows of tables and shelves on the side. It’s almost big enough to be its own shop, separate from the marketplace, and Ranboo wonders why it isn’t, especially in a small town like this.

Then again, he doesn’t see any staff, except for a large, orcish man behind the back counter. His skin is a dark, intense pink, and his hair, colored the same, falls in a braid over his shoulder.

They make eye contact. The man gives him a nod.

“Hullo.”

“Oh, uh - hello,” Ranboo says, with a nervous little nod in return. 

Awkward silence fills the tent.

“Soooo, uh,” the man says, shifting red eyes left and right before settling on the counter he’s leaning on, “can I help you with anything?”

Ranboo opens and closes his mouth. “Uh. Just looking,” he says. 

His head turns to observe the shelf to his right, and he does a double take. Arranged meticulously and displayed in individual glass containers are animal skulls, of varying kinds. The small ones are mostly rodents and birds, but on the top shelf rests a deer skull, with a pair of antlers suspended above it.

“Are - are those-”

“They’re real,” the man behind the counter says. “Just mundane though, if you’re wonderin’. We don’t sell magic here.”

Ranboo steps away from the display, but keeps staring at the skulls out of the corner of his eye. “What else do you sell here?”

“Didja check the sign?” the man says with a friendly chuckle. Ranboo shrinks, embarrassed, before the man continues, “It's alright. We're an oddity shop. Bones, taxidermy, insects, that's kind of the weirdest we've got. But we've also got, like, incense and candles and stuff.”

“Oh. Cool,” he mutters. Ranboo turns away from the shelf of skulls, only to come face to face with a large chunk of amber, inside of which sits a completely petrified tarantula.

He jumps a solid foot away from it.

The shopkeep laughs. “Not your thing, huh?”

“N-no, I’ve - it just startled me,” Ranboo says. “I’ve - I’ve encountered way worse.”

The shopkeep leans forward on the counter. “Oh?” he asks.

“Adventurer,” he clarifies. “I - my friend, Tubbo and I, we’re adventurers, so, like…”

“Ah.” The shopkeep nods in understanding. “I mean, tieflin’ like you, you’ve probably some sort of magical affinity or other, am I right? Are you the rescuing cats from trees type, or something a bit more dangerous?”

Ranboo’s tail whips from side to side. “Not too dangerous. Um, mostly the undead, actually. Zombies. Reanimated skeletons.”

At that, the shopkeep seems to gain a bit more interest - or perhaps it’s incredulousness, as his eyes shift towards the shelf of skulls and then back towards Ranboo. “You deal with undead?”

Ranboo nods, quicker than before. An embarrassed flush creeps up his neck. “I mean - as of late. It depends on, um - whatever people are hiring for. We got rid of some spirits last week.”

The longer Ranboo talks, the more it looks like the shopkeep doesn’t believe him. Agh, why did he even open his mouth in the first place? He should’ve just waited for Tubbo to come back, and then he could just hang back and not have to talk with strangers anymore. Maybe Tubbo could tell that story about the owlbear for the fiftieth time.

It occurs to him, suddenly, that he could just show the shopkeep. Quickly, he fumbles with the satchel at his side, unclasping it before lifting the flap and sticking his hand inside. He rots around for a moment before he pulls out a massive claw, large enough that his hand can’t wrap fully around it. 

“Like this!” he says, holding it up to see. He might not be as good or dramatic of a storyteller as Tubbo is, but at least he’s not just talking out of his ass anymore. “An owlbear was nesting too close to one of the previous towns we were in, and we took care of it. This is from, uh. That.”

The shopkeep looks surprised. “Just the two of you?”

Ranboo nods.

“Huh. Interesting,” he says. “I’m Technoblade, by the way.”

“Ranboo! I’m Ranboo.” He grips the owlbear claw tighter for a moment before shoving it back into his satchel.

“Was that an owlbear claw?” a voice from behind Ranboo says.

Ranboo turns around to see a second man close behind him. He must have not heard him approach. He’s shorter than Ranboo, unlike Technoblade - which, now that he thinks about it, is a feat in and of itself, because Ranboo is massively tall. The man in front of him now looks to be more average, somewhere in the middle of five and six feet, with shaggy blond hair and a wide brimmed hat. He’s elvish, Ranboo notes.

“Apparently so,” Technoblade says. “Finally decided to show up, didja, Phil?”

The man with the hat - Phil, apparently - laughs. “Shut. I wasn’t gone for that long,” he says. Then, to Ranboo, he says, “Were you lookin’ to sell?”

“What?”

“The claw,” Phil says. “We’d take it off your hands - for a reasonable price, of course. Don’t listen to Techno, he’ll try to scam you.”

“Bruh,” Technoblade says. “I didn’t even make an offer!”

“Oh, um - sorry, I’m not selling it,” Ranboo says. “I was just, um-”

“He’s an adventurer,” Technoblade interrupts. “I asked him what kind of things he dealt with. Apparently, we’ve got an expert on our hands.”

“Oh, fascinating,” Phil says. He walks around Ranboo towards another section of the shop, where animal pelts hang displayed. “We used to have a griffon pelt here, actually - took quite a while to find a buyer for it, but it sold eventually.” He looks over his shoulder, pointedly glancing at Technoblade. “He’s the one who killed it.”

“Okay, that was forever ago,” Technoblade insists.

“You were an adventurer, too?” Ranboo asks. It’s not like he doesn’t believe him - in fact, quite the opposite. He’s broad-shouldered and clearly strong. Ranboo doesn’t doubt that someone like him, given the right tools and opportunity, would be able to kill a griffon for its pelt. The thing that confuses him is why he’s standing here in an oddity shop instead. He doesn’t look old. Maybe he sustained some sort of injury, then?

“Ehh, I dabbled,” Technoblade says.

“Oh, come on, mate, don’t sell yourself short,” Phil says, turning to rearrange the animal pelts to make room for another - seemingly procured out of thin air. “You took down a griffon.”

“Phil, listen, it was sleepin’. You were literally there.”

“And?”

“And literally anyone could’ve done that if they knew where to strike.”

“He makes it sound so easy,” Phil sighs like he’s letting Ranboo in on a secret. “I keep telling him, he’s gonna piss someone off if he keeps that ego unchecked-”

“Phil, I swear to Ilmater, I will kick you out of this tent.”

“Oh, so I guess you don’t want me to add these new pelts to the shelf, I see how it is.”

Technoblade makes a frustrated little noise. To Ranboo, he says, “You see what I have to deal with?”

Ranboo stifles a giggle with his hand. “Worth it for the pelts?” he asks.

Technoblade snorts. “If it were just the pelts, I’d have been a sole proprietor long before this.”

“Aww, thanks, mate,” Phil says.

Ranboo’s ears perk up when the tent flaps behind him rustle. He turns in time to spot Tubbo, carrying a brown paper bag, glancing around the shop. Tubbo’s face wrinkles when he catches sight of the petrified insects, but upon locking his gaze with Ranboo’s, he waves.

“Hey! I was looking for you,” Tubbo says. “Thought you’d stay outside. You know, somewhere visible?”

“Sorry, um - I was just checking this place out,” Ranboo says. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” Tubbo squints at him, then around the shop. “Fucking hell, I can barely see in here.”

“Oh, sorry, um-” Ranboo fiddles with his component pouch, pulling out a small piece of moss before touching the paper bag Tubbo holds and muttering an incantation. He fumbles over the words - half because he swears he hears Technoblade behind him muttering L, no darkvision - but the bag starts to glow, casting the room in a wave of color that Ranboo forgot was a part of normal sight.

Phil turns and makes a face at the glowing bag. His hat looks more vibrant now, striped with forest green and white, and his robes are a deep emerald. What really catches Ranboo’s attention, however, is how pale he seems under the new light. There’s no glow in his cheeks or flush on his hands - almost like he hasn’t seen the sun in a very, very long time.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t start casting magic in our shop,” Phil says, carefully clipped - not at all the same tone he’d taken earlier with Technoblade and Ranboo.

“Ah - sorry, I didn’t - um - my bad,” Ranboo stammers, getting ready to usher Tubbo out of the tent, but it seems as if Tubbo has other ideas.

“You don’t have any lanterns in here?” Tubbo asks, brushing Ranboo’s hand off of his shoulder and ignoring his attempts to guide him outdoors.

“We don’t usually light them until the evening,” Phil says. “When it’s dark out.”

“But you’re completely closed in this tent,” Tubbo says.

“Enough of the natural light gets in,” Technoblade says. He gestures to one of the shelves. “Sometimes we do light the candles, though. You like sandalwood?”

A long pause happens. “...I’ll pass,” Tubbo says. “Come on, Ranboo, let’s go.”

With barely enough time to wave farewell to the two shopkeepers, Ranboo is dragged out of the tent by his wrist. 

“Tubbo - Tubbo, wait,” Ranboo says. Once outdoors, he dismisses the cantrip he holds on the bag, and it dims to a normal brown again. “Are you okay? What - what was that?”

“Weird is what it was,” Tubbo mutters. “Did you see the eyes on that elf?”

“...I mean, I wasn’t particularly paying attention, no, but um, I’m pretty sure he’s not interested?”

“What? No, not like - no, I meant his eyes were red,” Tubbo clarifies, whispering insistently. “I’m pretty sure elves aren’t supposed to have red eyes.”

“I - drow?”

“I - did that guy look drow to you?”

“Okay, well, no,” Ranboo says. He glances down at the scroll of parchment tucked in one of the side pockets on Tubbo’s satchel. “..You don’t think he’s who we’re looking for?”

Tubbo glances back at the tent flap, far too close for comfort, and ushers Ranboo further away. Once they’re out of earshot and then some, Tubbo speaks up again. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more obvious lead in my life. Of course he could be who we’re looking for.”

“What about the other guy?” Ranboo asks. “The half-orc.”

Tubbo shrugs. “I dunno. Thralled?”

“Maybe,” Ranboo says. He looks over his shoulder at the tent and swallows thickly. “Where did they say it was last seen?”

“Not on this side of town,” Tubbo admits, “but it’ll be a while before it’s time for hunting, anyways. I think we should wait for the market to close and watch where they go.”

“...So we’re stalking them?”

“I - well - I mean, okay, when you put it like that-”

“I mean that’s like, literally the description of our job, Tubbo, we’re getting paid to stalk and kill this vampire.”

“Yes, okay, and I think we should start by taking this lead,” Tubbo says. “If he’s just a normal guy, we go back to square one and check the other side of town. If he is a vampire, we take care of it like we planned.”

“Alright,” Ranboo agrees. “I mean, it couldn't hurt, right? Worst case scenario we’ve just stalked two random merchants for no reason.”

“You’re making it sound worse than it is,” Tubbo mutters. 

“To be fair,” Ranboo says, “They’re out here selling bones.”

“Plenty of people buy and sell bones.”

“And insects.”

“Well maybe they’re just weird? Okay, why am I the one defending them, now?” Tubbo huffs. He pushes the brown paper bag he’s holding into Ranboo’s arms. “Eat these, I’m going to find a spot where we can lay low.”

Ranboo opens the bag, pops a sesame ball in his mouth, and trails after Tubbo.

Night falls quickly afterwards. The marketplace experiences a rush of activity just after sundown, when all the merchants are lighting their lanterns and calling out to the small wave of farmers that drop by after leaving the fields for the day. The alley Tubbo had found wasn’t exactly the most enjoyable avenue to spend their time, but at least it was a clear view of the street - for Ranboo, at least. He looks over to his left and sees Tubbo squinting in the dim light, trying to make out the silhouettes of the people before them. 

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, he considers looking into an investment for enchanted goggles - despite the fact that Tubbo could prepare himself a darkvision spell, he insists he needs his other spells more than he needs to be able to see. It’s not the most convenient thing to deal with. Certainly not the stealthiest option, either. And it would be kind of silly for someone who has darkvision to learn a spell for it.

But even with clear eyes, Ranboo almost misses the two figures exiting their shop.

His grip tightens on the copper wire he was winding around his finger, and subtly flicks it to briefly point towards Tubbo. There they are, Ranboo messages via spell. 

Tubbo jolts beside him. Fuck, give me a bit of warning when you do that. Where are they going?

Ranboo gets to his feet, quickly hauling his satchel over his shoulder and tiptoeing out of the alley. He points behind him again. South.

Heard, Tubbo answers, by habit- Ranboo’s spells hadn’t always been quite as fluid or accurate. He follows behind as quickly as he can.

Phil and Technoblade aren’t moving very fast, but in order to stay at a reasonable distance while remaining out of sight, Ranboo stays on high alert. The two men are engaged in conversation with one another, and Phil’s hat now sports a veil hung on the brim, surrounding his head.

“I don’t think we’re charging enough for the quartz bundles,” Technoblade mutters, some sort of ledger in both of his hands, his eyes flicking between it and the street ahead of him.

“You sure? We just raised prices on those last week,” Phil says, veil swaying in the light breeze. “If anything, I think those hematite rings you brought in need to be at a higher price point. They’re selling like crazy.”

“They’re selling because of the price point, Phil. I mean, I guess we can try it. But it’s basically just a trinket trend.”

“Yeah, not too much, just a little. You said they’re kind of fragile anyways, right?”

“Sorta. They just don’t last that long in most hands. People don’t take care of their things.”

“Right. Well, alright, we’ll keep them as they are for now. How much do you want to bump the quartz up?”

“Five copper, maybe?”

“Sounds good. Any other adjustments?”

“We got too much candle stock that ain’t moving.”

“Maybe a sale? Buy two, get one free.”

“Solid. For a day or a weekend?”

“Weekend, definitely, and make sure people know about it beforehand.”

“Do we still have a sign for that?”

In the middle of their conversation, Tubbo stumbles on something on the road - a rock, a branch - and bumps right into Ranboo’s spine. To prevent himself from falling, Ranboo plants his hands on the wall of a building he was sneaking by, and sticks out his leg to catch Tubbo on his way down. Tubbo’s elbow jams into his calf. He bites his lower lip in agony, takes a deep breath, and counts to three. He points at Tubbo with his wired finger.

Please watch where you’re going.

Tubbo gets to his feet, blindly reaching out a hand towards Ranboo to both find him and steady himself. It lands on Ranboo’s tail. 

Tubbo! Ranboo points and jerks around, pulling his tail out of Tubbo’s grasp.

Sorry! Sorry, accident, Tubbo messages back. I’m fine now. Did they see us?

Ranboo looks ahead once more, and Phil and Technoblade are just at the very edge of his field of view. He waves his hand at Tubbo. No, I don’t think so, but we have to catch up. Hurry.

I’m getting that enchantment when we get paid for this, Tubbo answers, grimacing as he rushes after Ranboo as quickly as keeping his hooves quiet will allow.

Good. Please do.

The distance isn’t that difficult to cover, but staying hidden while doing so is a bit more of a challenge. They’re more than clear of the market, and instead of taking any route through the town, following the two merchants has led them to a dirt path on the outskirts of Birchfall - quieter, darker, and emptier.

“You should have made an offer for that claw! Did you see how pristine it was?” 

Ranboo picks up their voices again as he darts behind a post, frowning in concentration as he tries to scan for his next hiding spot.

“You literally stopped me before I could start to,” Technoblade answers, half a groan. 

“You always highball the amount,” Phil says. “I wanted to make him feel like he was getting a deal if he chose to sell.”

“That doesn’t actually work if neither of us makes any offer.”

“Which is why you were supposed to make an offer before I arrived,” Phil says with a laugh and a gentle elbow to Technoblade’s upper arm. “Can’t believe you couldn’t predict my arrival.”

“Right, sure, I’ll just grow a sixth sense for you, that’s how that works.”

“Exactly, you get it.”

Ranboo motions behind him for Tubbo to follow as he quickly takes the opportunity to cross a dark section of the path to the other side, where the foliage provides better cover. Although not as graceful, at least Tubbo doesn’t slam right into him this time.

“I kind of wanted to talk to him more,” Technoblade says. “He said his name was Ranboo.”

“Who, the tiefling?”

“Yeah. I could tell he was just anxious. And, you know, we don’t get many adventurers around here anymore. I thought he might have some stories to tell.”

“You wanna know how he took down that owlbear.”

“I do! I mean, I don’t wanna say he was lyin’, because frankly, he didn’t seem like the type, but I find it pretty hard to believe that it was just him and that satyr boy.”

“Well, maybe you’ll see him again tomorrow,” Phil says. “Or he’ll come back through town another time.”

“Uh huh, ‘another time.’ And how long d’you think that’ll be? You think I’ll remember?”

Phil snorts. “Of course you will. You remembered the name of the man that tried to oversell his pelts and then insulted your broach almost five years later, didn’t you?”

“Okay, that’s, like. That’s different.”

“Sure.”

The path eventually opens up into what appears to be a large swath of farmland. Cornfields dot the horizon, and a modest house sits near the front, bordering a larger barn behind it. There’s a mailbox at the entrance of the path that leads up to the front of the house, rusted and leaning to one side. 

Phil passes it without a glance. Technoblade stops to straighten it before moving on. 

Ranboo strains his ears to hear any more of what they’re saying, but they’ve quieted all of a sudden. He watches Phil wave a hand towards the front door of the house, and Technoblade nods in return, swiftly and silently creeping up to the porch. He doesn’t knock, nor does he open the door - instead, he peeks through the windows, and presses his ear to the door.

Ranboo directs another message to Tubbo. So this definitely doesn’t seem like their house.

He can almost feel the eyeroll in return. What kind of merchants would live on a farm?!?

Right. Duh. 

Tubbo places a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder and points towards the barn. Phil has since disappeared behind the house, and Technoblade remains at the front door.

If we go wide, we can sneak around to the back, Ranboo messages.

Tubbo’s hand lightly squeezes his shoulder before drawing away. Heard. Follow that vampire.

The two of them take probably a wider berth than strictly necessary, but Ranboo isn’t taking chances - not with a real vampire. He can feel the anticipation in the pit of his stomach, churning and threatening to hinder him from the mission. He presses on until they’re out of Technoblade’s line of sight.

“You remember the plan?” Tubbo mutters, almost inaudibly.

Ranboo nods. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” Tubbo says. “We get to the barn, you hold him, I’ll fire.”

Ranboo takes a deep breath. “Okay. Lead the way.”

Tubbo steps in front of Ranboo, leading them to approach the barn. The area is quiet except for the sounds of frogs in the distance, but when Tubbo presses his ear to the barn door, he makes a face, then motions for Ranboo to message him.

Yes?

Can you see the hayloft from here?

Ranboo glances upwards. Yeah. Do you want me up there?

Probably a better idea than barging in, Tubbo reasons. He places his palms flat on the barn door. You get up there, and I’ll charge in on your signal.

Ranboo nods, takes a breath, and then, carefully drawing on his magic to cast this spell in the quietest fashion possible, creates a small cloud of mist at his feet. In the next moment, he blips up into the hayloft.

The barn is pitch dark. For Ranboo, that’s not nearly as much of a problem as it would have been, but even with his darkvision, things are dim and grey. Below him are stalls with sleeping cows, a couple of horses, and a few sheep. He watches a bull’s tail flick from out of the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, Ranboo catches sight of him in the sheep’s pen. He’d been perfectly still just moments before, pale skin and hair blending right in with the wool - and his hat and veil are missing. Phil’s head is tilted at an awkward angle, but he rights it the moment he pulls away from one of the sheep.

Ranboo startles as it flops to the ground, dead. He makes a squeaky little noise in the process, and watches with horror as Phil’s head snaps upward to the hayloft.

In a panic, the incantation for the spell Hold Person flies from his mouth with a shout. He nearly trips out of the hayloft and loses his concentration in the process, but Ranboo keeps his footing and feels his magic take hold, immobilizing the man on the barn floor below him.

Phil doesn’t seem to be phased. In fact, he laughs. “So you’re the one that was following us, huh?”

The barn door bursts open directly below him, and Ranboo can’t see it, but he sure hears the moment that Tubbo fires his cannon, a beam of force magic careening towards Phil at the speed of sound. It clocks him in the side of the face, and Ranboo’s hands buzz with the energy of keeping Phil held in place.

“I’m impressed you hit that!” Phil says with gritted teeth and a now-reddened cheek. There’s a tiny drip of blood off the corner of his mouth. “Can you even see where you’re aimin’, mate?”

“Shut up!” Tubbo says, storming further into the barn. The long shadow cast by the moonlight gets smaller as he approaches. Out of his bag, he pulls a flask of holy water and uncorks it, then splashes some of it haphazardly across Phil’s legs.

Phil grimaces, and a sizzling sound can be heard. “Fuck, ow. Now that’s just rude.”

“He’s definitely undead!” Tubbo calls out. “Ranboo, how are you holding up?”

Ranboo clenches his hands in front of him, breathing in deep as he tries to keep the hold going. It’s not without difficulty. He can feel Phil resisting with every second that passes, battering at his grip like he’s taking a baseball bat to Ranboo’s hands. “He’s pretty strong, Tubbo!” 

“Then I’ll make it quick,” Tubbo says. He steps back and lifts his arm, ready to fire another beam of magic from his cannon.

Ranboo closes his eyes. He hones in on the feeling of the magic in his own chest, straining and creaking like a wooden board being bent in half. In the split second after he closes his eyes, however, his focus is shattered by a large weight that slams into him from behind, knocking him to the floor of the hayloft. 

His outstretched palms meet a pile of straw, and his eyes fly open. He can’t see Phil or Tubbo anymore.

“Fuck!” Tubbo curses loudly, followed by the sound of his cannon firing - once, twice, three times before Ranboo thinks to start struggling.

He thrashes left and right. Over his shoulder, he tries to catch a glimpse of the force that’s holding him down, but doesn’t see much - some hair, the tip of an ear? He manages to pull his hand out from underneath him and reach around to smack at whomever is pressing their hand into his shoulder with a protest of “Let me go!”

A shock of magical electricity blows bright between him and his assailant. The weight is lifted, and Ranboo uses the distraction to scramble to his feet. He doubts the cantrip really hurt much, but it’s bought him time, at the very least, to see what’s going on.

“Ow,” Technoblade says, shaking out his hand where Ranboo shocked it. He looks more annoyed than hurt, shrugging his shoulders and sighing with his other arm held out in front of him in a placating gesture. “C’mon, man, I thought we were chill.”

A large explosion rocks the barn, and both Ranboo and Technoblade stumble for a moment in the hayloft. Ranboo turns his gaze to the barn floor again, where smoke rises from a charred hole in one of the horse pens. 

Tubbo leaps through the hole in the pen and into the darkness. A moment later, he comes flying out, body tossed like a ragdoll, and skids across the floor of the barn.

“Tubbo!” Ranboo shouts. He tries to make a dash for the ladder, but Technoblade gets in front of him, grabbing his wrist and yanking him back. That hurts, actually - Ranboo expected that Technoblade would be strong, but this strong? That can’t just be an orc thing, can it?

“Hey, no, Ranboo, you don’t - you really don’t wanna fight Phil,” Technoblade says. “He’s like, ancient and powerful and all that jazz, and you’re gonna get killed. And, honestly, you dying would kind of suck.”

Ranboo’s hand crackles with magical electricity again, and before Technoblade can let go, he delivers another point blank shock to him. Technoblade drops Ranboo’s wrist immediately.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry!” Ranboo stammers as he backs up against the ladder. “Sorry I don’t, um, I don’t want Tubbo to die, either! I don’t want to hurt you, but, um, I don’t know how to un-thrall you either - but I promise we’ll get rid of Phil soon!”

“Wait, hold on, Ranboo, stop,” Technoblade says, amidst the sounds of magic firing and wood splintering that make Ranboo even antsier to get down from the hayloft. “You think I’m a thrall?”

Ranboo opens and closes his mouth. “You, um, yes? He could have you, like, mind controlled, or…”

“Bruh.” Technoblade lifts a hand to his mouth and pulls on his upper lip with two fingers, high enough to reveal his gums - and a long, sharp upper canine. “You’ve gotta get better eyesight.”

Ranboo balks. “Tubbo!” he shouts.

“A little busy! I could use some - FUCK-” Tubbo shouts, cut off by the sound of rapid footsteps and another shot from his cannon. “I could use some help down here!”

“Tubbo, he’s not a thrall!”

At the shouting, Technoblade grimaces. “Look, man, this fight isn’t gonna get you where you want it to go. We don’t have to do this! You can just, like, leave!”

“Leave?!?” Ranboo squeaks in disbelief. “But you’re - you’re vampires, you don’t - isn’t Phil going to kill us too?”

“Okay, well, bold words coming from a tiefling, but I guess the difference in reputation between you and I isn’t exactly negligible,” Technoblade says. “Look, if we wanted you dead, we’d have killed you when I noticed you tailin’ us. But we didn’t. Killing people would just make us more likely to get found out here.”

“But like - you drink blood?” Ranboo says. “I don’t - I mean, far be it from me to question a guy who could - like, yeah, you could probably kill me if you tried, and I don’t really want that either, but doesn’t drinking blood from people mean you need to like, bite people?”

“We’re in a barn, dude, do the math.”

An explosive sound shakes the barn. Ranboo grabs the handle of the ladder, and Technoblade takes another step forward.

“I’ll tell Phil to knock it off if you tell your friend to stop trashing the place,” Technoblade tries. “Because I don’t know if you noticed, but this place isn’t ours, and I’d like to not have to leave town because someone barged in on us. Birchfall’s nice, the people are nice, there’s plenty of livestock and we barely come out here - if I have to go back to draining squirrels in the city I think I might actually start bitin’ people.”

“...To be fair, the city does suck,” Ranboo blurts. What? “T-too many people, and all that. Lots of noise, bad smells, you know. Even this barn smells better than that.”

He’s got no idea what he’s doing, at this point - all rational thought is screaming that he should turn and book it down the ladder so that he can help Tubbo out, but - why does Technoblade’s story seem rational? Oh, no, please tell him he’s not actually thinking about trusting a vampire. 

“Exactly!” Technoblade says. “Exactly, Ranboo, thank you. So, if you could call your friend there off-”

Suddenly from behind the both of them, outside the window of the hayloft, a room in the neighboring house is illuminated. Ranboo’s head turns, and Technoblade lifts a hand to shield his eyes.

“Phil, we’ve gotta go!” Technoblade calls over the side of the hayloft.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Tubbo shouts. Another magic blast sounds from his cannon.

“Well, we’re certainly not going to stay here fighting you forever!” Phil says. “Techno’s right, it’s time to go.”

Following that, Tubbo shrieks. Ranboo whips his head back around to look down below the hayloft and catches sight of Phil and Tubbo in the very center of the room, with the front of Tubbo’s shirt held tightly in Phil’s hand. He’s lifted about a foot off of the floor, and his feet swing wildly while his hands claw at Phil’s.

“Tubbo!” Ranboo shouts, and begins to reach for his component pouch, but in the moments between him reaching for it and opening it, Technoblade darts forward and closes his hand around the opening of the pouch.

“Don’t,” Technoblade says. 

“Are we being kidnapped?” Ranboo says, voice tightening into a strained wheeze. “I feel like you guys are kidnapping us now.”

“I mean, the thing about kidnapping is that it has to be done against your will. So like, yeah, your friend’s kind of - yeah. But you don’t have to be if you just leave willingly.”

Another magical blast sounds, Phil curses loudly, and Tubbo disappears into one of the stables. In the next moment, so does Phil.

“Doesn’t sound like a very successful kidnapping,” Ranboo mutters.

Technoblade grimaces. “He’s working on it.”

There’s a shout from outside of the barn that doesn’t belong to any of the four of them, and Ranboo presses his back against the wall of the hayloft, inhaling sharply. He’s not scared of being found, right? He and Tubbo should be grateful there are people here to discover the vampires that have broken into their barn. 

And yet, he stays silent when the barn door creaks open and the floor is illuminated with torchlight.

“What in the hell…?” a woman’s voice mutters, followed by footsteps that echo across the whole barn. “Florence, if that’s you again…”

Ranboo holds his breath. He meets Technoblade’s gaze, and when he does, Technoblade mouths at him, please.

The rest of the barn is miraculously silent. Phil and Tubbo are nowhere to be heard. Ranboo’s not sure if he should be relieved or concerned about it. What’s more concerning, however, is the loud creaking sound the hayloft makes the moment that Ranboo shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He freezes.

“Florence? Is that you up there?”

The ladder starts to creak. Ranboo reaches for his component pouch again, but Technoblade shakes his head. No spell components, imminent discovery, and Ranboo has about five seconds to decide what he’s going to do before the person who presumably owns the barn pokes her head up and finds a tiefling and a vampire in her hayloft.

Ranboo casts a spell.

He’s not quite sure what he’s casting. The words come to him on instinct, unbidden by any knowledge he’s previously had, but it’s a short, snappy incantation that makes his ears pop the second he finishes it. It makes him feel like he’s melting into the hayloft, surrounded by a blanket of air so warm he’s unsure if he’s suddenly changed the weather or not. He squeezes his eyes shut. The air gets hotter. He wishes he was out in the forest, where the air is cool and the night is fresh.

When he feels like his skin is going to start to burn, it stops. The bubble bursts, cool air rushes in, and Ranboo’s feet feel different. Or, he feels like he’s standing somewhere… different.

He opens his eyes. Technoblade is still there. The hayloft isn’t.

“Bruh,” Technoblade blurts. He lets go of Ranboo’s component pouch. “You could have mentioned you can cast Dimension Door.”

“I, uh,” Ranboo says, brain trying to catch up with his tongue, “I didn’t - I’ve never cast that before, I didn’t even know I could. You - wait, you know what that spell was?”

“Seen it a few times in my lifetime,” Technoblade says. “We’re not far from the barn. We should move.”

Ranboo glances around. They’re surrounded by trees, a little ways off of the forested dirt path they’d been traveling before. He’s got no idea which direction the barn is in, but it looks like Technoblade does, because he starts heading in a specific direction away from the path without much thought.

He stops after a moment and glances over his shoulder. “You coming?”

Ranboo suddenly fumbles to get his hands on his component pouch again. He pulls out a piece of sulfur sitting near the top of the pouch and holds it out threateningly.

“...Please don’t cast Fireball on top of us.”

Ranboo glances at his hand. He has indeed pulled out the material components for a Fireball. “...I’m not going to cast Fireball on top of us,” he says. “My aim’s better than that.”

Technoblade snorts and rolls his eyes. “Okay. Please don’t cast Fireball on me,” he corrects. 

Ranboo doesn’t put away the sulfur. Frankly, his aim is dogshit, but Technoblade doesn’t have to know that. He doesn’t have to know that half the time he tries to cast Fireball it fails, anyhow. For all Technoblade knows, Ranboo is a very capable sorcerer. 

“You’re not gonna cast it, are you.”

“...I am.”

“You’re not.”

Ranboo changes the subject. “What’s going to happen to Tubbo?”

“He’ll be fine. Phil shouldn’t kill him. Or grievously injure him or anything,” Technoblade says. “I told him not to.”

“What?” Ranboo says. He grips the sulfur tighter. “What do you mean?”

Technoblade gives him a long stare. “You think either of you would be alive if you were actually fighting either of us? Like, honestly, I applaud the confidence, but Phil could have killed your friend in a heartbeat. Personally, I didn’t want to see him squash your friend’s head like a grape, mostly because it would probably make you really upset and then go tell the whole town, and that wouldn’t be great, because again, then Phil and I would have to leave.”

Ranboo presses his lips together into a thin line. “...Why not kill me?” he asks. “I mean - I’m a stranger, to you.”

Technoblade shrugs. “I dunno man, I’ve never met another vampire with morals, either, but here we are.”

Ranboo snorts. Not just once, but twice, and then he breaks into a peal of laughter that has him lowering his hand and putting the sulfur back in his pouch. “I - okay, I guess,” he says. “Um. So you don’t want me dead?”

“For like, the thousandth time, yeah,” Technoblade says with a bit of an exhausted chuckle. “Now, are you coming with me, or do I have to bring you with me myself? Cause I would rather you just follow me.”

“I mean - where are we going?” Ranboo asks, taking a tentative step forward. “I’d rather not be complicit in my own kidnapping.”

Technoblade waves a hand. “It’s temporary.”

“Most kidnapping is.”

“Just until they stop investigating the barn,” Technoblade says. “Phil and I have some stuff stashed in there we should probably grab on account of the, uh, maybe getting kicked out of town thing.”

“And why do I have to stay?”

“I mean. I don’t know you’re not going to just run off and tell everyone you saw a vampire,” Technoblade says. “It’s bad enough that we already got the both of you looking for us. So. Yeah. You’re coming with me.”

Even if Ranboo isn’t thrilled about the idea, it makes logical sense, and he doesn’t really want to find out what refusing to follow Technoblade would entail. Besides, if he’s to be trusted - and the likelihood that Ranboo is going to keep trusting him is going up with every second that passes, despite how terrible of an idea that is - then Tubbo’s continued well-being probably also depends on whether or not Ranboo sticks around.

And Ranboo really doesn’t want to be responsible for his best friend’s death. That would suck pretty badly.

He follows Technoblade further into the forest. They walk in silence for a while, until Ranboo’s curiosity gets the best of him - and then some, because his nervousness steals another several minutes of silence. Despite Technoblade insisting he’d rather have Ranboo alive, it’s not the least frightening thing to be following a tall, strong vampire around in the dark. He could absolutely turn around and snap Ranboo’s neck before he could even say magic missile. But eventually, he speaks up.

“Were you really an adventurer?” Ranboo asks.

“Heh?”

“I mean - you said, earlier, at the tent. That you dabbled.”

“Mmm, sorta,” Technoblade says. “I mean, yeah, I was an adventurer. It was a long time ago, though.”

“How long ago?”

Technoblade turns and grins. His flangs glint, even in the dark. “Wanna take a guess?”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Ranboo admits. “Hundreds of years? Thousands?”

“Whoa, okay, I’m not that old and decrepit yet,” Technoblade says, with a scoff of mock-offense. “That would be Phil.”

“How old is Phil?”

“Well, obviously, he’s an elf, so, quite old before he even became a vampire in the first place,” Technoblade says. “But that’s all I’ll say. He’ll already have my head if he finds out I called him old without being here to defend himself.”

Ranboo snickers. “So, um. When did you kill that griffon?”

“When did you kill that owlbear?” Technoblade asks in return. “Seems a bit unfair that you get to ask all the questions.”

“...Fair, I guess,” Ranboo says. “It was probably around a month ago. We were trying to enter a tiny town called Elcor, but the entire place was on lockdown because of the owlbear that had just nested nearby. They were gonna take care of it when the guard force they called in from one of the neighboring towns arrived to deal with it, but. Tubbo was pissed off and impatient, so we went straight to the nest.”

“Props to him for the confidence,” Technoblade says. “But how did you kill it?”

“I have a spell that lets me conjure these… sticky spiderweb-like things? I trapped it in those. Er, Tubbo did the killing from there.”

“But you’re the one that restrained it.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Ranboo says. “I mean. I didn’t do any damage to it. That was all Tubbo.”

“Oh, no. You get credit for that. He wouldn’t have been able to land a single one of those without getting sliced to pieces by those claws unless you were there to help him,” Technoblade says. He pushes some branches up and out of the way, gesturing for Ranboo to walk underneath them, past the trees they came from.

Ranboo ducks under Technoblade’s arm. “I - sure, I guess,” he says. “Okay. What about the griffon?”

“Stabbed it,” Technoblade answers without much fanfare. “Well, I kind of chopped its head off? It was pretty messy. I hadn’t picked up a greatsword in a while when I did. Devalued the pelt a bit, that’s for sure.”

“You chopped a griffon’s head off with a greatsword,” Ranboo says, “I don’t know what part of that isn’t impressive, like, in and of itself.”

“I mean, if you’re not used to hitting things with swords, sure. I can’t hit things with spells, so all of that looks pretty impressive to me.” Technoblade stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder, then around at the area they’re in. “We’re probably far enough. We can just chill around here.”

Ranboo glances around the small clearing, then brings his hands up to hold his upper arms, staving off the breeze that blows through just moments after. “It’s pretty cold.”

“D’you wanna make a fire?” Technoblade asks. “Sorry, I’ve got no concept of temperature anymore. I don’t even make body heat, man.”

“Sure, but I’d need to look for wood, and…?” Ranboo says, letting the unspoken question hang in the air.

Technoblade grins again. “Oh, I could smell if you got too far away.”

“Right. Not terrifying at all, thanks.”

Technoblade laughs. “I’m mostly kidding, that’s not how vampires work. Orcs, though, our sense of smell is pretty great.”

“I’m… not… sure… that’s true either?”

“Pfft. Won’t even let a man keep his secrets.”

Ranboo turns to look for wood just past the point where he can see Technoblade. He doesn’t want to lose their spot, but if he’s being honest, the time to think without knowing he’s being watched is incredibly appealing right now.

He gathers kindling in his arms and takes a moment to breathe. Vampire. Kidnapped? Kind of. Tubbo’s not here - they’re separated. And he has no idea whether or not Technoblade is telling the truth - well, okay, he probably is. Ranboo would be very dead if he wasn’t. Probably.

…And aside from the whole vampire thing, he’s not unpleasant. Easier to talk to than some people Ranboo’s met. A former adventurer, if he’s to be believed. One who can swing a sword, which is more than either he or Tubbo could do.

What is he even thinking about? What list of criteria is this?

He shakes his head to snap himself out of his thoughts, gathers a bit more wood, and heads back to where he left Technoblade. He has no idea how long he’s been lost in thought, but by the time he sees him again, Technoblade’s in a predicament that nearly has Ranboo dropping all of the kindling he’s gathered on top of his own feet.

“Ah.”

Technoblade’s sitting on the ground with his mouth poised wide open over the neck of a goat, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is stunted by the fact that he can’t form any consonants like this. The goat itself is incredibly calm, for being held up to its deathbed by Techno’s two large hands, but Techno is staring straight at Ranboo like a deer caught in torchlight.

Ranboo can’t help but think the goat reminds him of Tubbo. Oh, hells, it’s the same fur color and everything. He does not want to watch Technoblade bite into that.

“...What are you doing?” Ranboo squeaks. Stupid question. Stupid question. “D-don’t eat that.”

“...Uhhh,” Technoblade says, pulling back and finally thinking to close his jaw so he can speak. “First of all, I don’t eat things, I drink their blood. Second of all - I’m hungry?”

“I - where did you even get that?” 

Technoblade shrugs. “Goats can be wild animals, too. Though, this one probably escaped the farm a little while ago. Found it wandering.”

Ranboo makes a face and shakes his head. “Don’t - it’s just an animal.”

Technoblade tilts his head to the side. “Yeah. It’s just an animal.”

Hells. Ranboo doesn’t know how he’s going to make an excuse for this. He’s worried about Tubbo, still, and this is not going to make it any better. “I - well - you’re going to hurt it.”

Technoblade looks between the goat and Ranboo, then huffs. “...You’re out huntin’ vampires, and you don’t want me to hurt a farm animal?”

Ranboo gulps. “...Yeah.”

“Alright, that’s - well, that’s very sweet of you, I’m sure the goat appreciates it, but that doesn’t solve the problem of what I’m having for lunch.”

“Lunch? It’s the middle of the night,” Ranboo says. 

“Yeah, that’s like, my midday.”

“...But you were awake earlier. At your shop, in the market?”

Technoblade rolls his eyes. “That was my mornin’. I still only sleep eight hours, you know, that’s not all the daylight. Why is this, like, relevant? Can I - y’know - drink?” He gestures to the goat. 

Ranboo hesitates. Technoblade looks between him and the goat.

“...Okay. So like. New option for you. It can be the goat, or it can be you,” Technoblade says. “I didn’t see any deer or anything around here. And no offense, but I’m not biting a squirrel for you.”

Ranboo recoils. “Wouldn’t that kill me? Or turn me into a vampire?”

Technoblade snorts. “No and no, that’s not how that works,” he says. “Geez, you’re a vampire hunter and you don’t know how turning works?”

Ranboo’s cheeks heat up. “I mean - we haven’t really… y’know, fought a real vampire before. Just - just some vampire spawn.”

Technoblade’s snickering turns into full blown laughter. “Oh - oh, Ilmater, and you wanted to go after me and Phil?”

“Tubbo insisted we could,” Ranboo mutters, thoroughly embarrassed. “Well, how does it work?”

Technoblade takes a deep breath to calm his laughter. “Okay, well. First off, to become a vampire spawn, the vampire has to kill you by biting you and draining you of your blood. They’ll bury you in the ground, and then the next night, you rise as a vampire spawn. From there, if you wanna become a real vampire, the vampire has to feed you their own blood. Most vampires don’t really do that, though, they’re power-hungry and egotistical idiots. Phil was different, mind you, he just fast-tracked me to real vampirism.”

“Phil’s the one that turned you?”

Technoblade nods. “And I’m grateful he did. But that’s a longer story. Anyways, no, I wouldn’t turn you into a vampire or a vampire spawn. Unless you wanted me to, for whatever reason. And I wouldn’t kill you, either. It takes, like - a lot to drain a whole person. Animal blood is like… probably less than half as filling as biting an actual person. And you’re like, twice the size of this goat. So draining you enough to kill you would be like draining four goats.”

“...I see,” Ranboo says.

“Yep. You can take that as evidence I wouldn’t kill you even if I got my fangs in you-”

“So do it.”

“You - what? Come again?”

Ranboo feels like he’s been possessed by Tubbo’s own impulsive curiosity and recklessness. Or maybe he’s had it the whole time, but getting distracted trying to be a voice of reason to Tubbo is a task all of its own. 

“I, uh, I mean. If it won’t kill me,” Ranboo says, “and - you swear this isn’t part of a trick to get me to let you do it-”

“-Never, what? No, it’s not a trick-”

“-then sure? I don’t. Uh. See why not?” Ranboo finishes. “And. Then you can let the goat go.”

Technoblade looks at the goat again. The goat gives a small bleat. He sighs, then lets go, giving it a small smack on the flank to chase it off. “Go on, get outta here.”

The goat dashes off into the bushes.

“Okay, come sit down at least,” Technoblade says. “You wanna make your fire first?”

Ranboo gets down to his knees in the middle of the clearing, arranging his kindling into a fire as hastily as possible. With the snap of his fingers and a cantrip, it lights. He has to make himself do it patiently, waiting for the fire to grow before he can add a more sizable log and then leave it be. Once that’s done, he scoots back from it, the area now illuminated, and turns to look at Technoblade.

He looks a lot redder in the light. His hair and skin are more vibrant, and his eyes almost seem like they’re glowing.

“Okay,” Ranboo mutters. “Okay! Um. How do we…”

He lifts his hands to pull the collar of his robe away from his neck and tilts his head to the side. 

“...You, uh, want me to bite you there? I can just as easily bite your wrist, you know.”

Ranboo flushes darker. “I. Well. I need my hands to cast spells. Just in case you bite my hand off or something.”

“I - what? I’m not gonna bite your hand off.”

“Well, how would I know?”

“Look, I just told you, I’m not gonna eat you, I’m just gonna drink your blood!”

“Okay, then drink my blood!” Ranboo says. “Before I change my mind!”

Technoblade grabs him by the shoulders and shoves his nose into the crook between Ranboo’s jawline and his neck. Ranboo squeezes his eyes shut, bracing for pain, but it doesn’t come - Techno’s skin is cold but soft, pressed against his pulse. He doesn’t even breathe against him, not until he inhales, slow and deep.

“...Do I smell good?” Ranboo whispers.

“Mm. Gotta still make sure I don’t drink too much,” Technoblade rumbles in his ear. “Yeah. Smells good.”

Then Technoblade bites him, and it’s all Ranboo can do to grip onto Technoblade’s forearms and try not to instinctively pull away. It’s sharp and painful, but the strangest thing about it is that it’s warm, unlike the rest of him. Ranboo whimpers, biting his own lip to keep himself from crying out, and after a moment, a wave of fuzziness hits him hard, and the pain seems… secondary.

There’s soreness, throbbing in his neck. But there’s also a tongue, hot and pulsing, and two colder lips, sucking at his skin in a way that makes spots dance across his vision. 

It feels like he loses consciousness, but Ranboo thinks he’s just lost focus. He doesn’t open his eyes, he just snaps back to reality, a little bit closer to Technoblade than he was before. He’s kind of half in his lap, now. 

“Ranboo. Earth to Ranboo. Are you good?”

“I… yeah, I’m okay,” he says, more of a hoarse croak than he expects it to be. He lifts a hand to his neck, and his fingertips come away bloody. “Ah - maybe, uh, I should have prepared a cloth.”

“Eh, take this,” Technoblade says, and hands him a handkerchief. 

“Don’t you, uhh, need something like this…?” Rambo mutters, turning it over in his hand.

“Just take it, it’s fine,” Technoblade says.

Ranboo takes it and presses it to his neck. He winces. It’s already starting to bruise. The good news, though, is that he’s not dead. Second good news - he’s not been turned into a vampire. At least, he doesn’t think he has. Third good news, Technoblade is staring at him with bloody lips like he’s on cloud nine.

(Wait. Why is that the third good news?) 

“Can you stand?” Technoblade asks. 

“I think so,” Ranboo says, and scoots off of Technoblade’s lap. Technoblade stands first, then offers a hand to Ranboo, who takes it. Technoblade helps him up.

“You know, most people don’t offer to let a vampire bite them just because,” Technoblade says.

“Yeah, I - I’m not most people, I don’t think,” Ranboo says.

Technoblade laughs, then, in a display completely bewildering to Ranboo, lifts his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles, which promptly makes Ranboo feel like his entire face has caught on fire.

Hells. He cannot have the hots for a vampire. Nope. That is definitely not it. Tubbo is going to kill him.

“Well, thank you for lunch,” Technoblade says. “Honestly, it was a treat not having to drink from an animal for once.”

“Y-yeah?” Ranboo squeaks. “That, uh. Tasty?”

Technoblade nods. “Absolutely.”

“Great. Awesome. I actually think I might collapse, can I sit down again?”

“Oh, shoot, don’t do that, Ilmater, don’t do that-”

Ranboo, thankfully, doesn’t pass out. Technoblade sits and talks with Ranboo for a while, trading stories about adventuring until the campfire dies out. When it does, he urges Ranboo to leave the area, and reassures him that Tubbo will find him - or he’ll find Tubbo - within the next day.

He’s stopped questioning the trust thing now. If he’s swindled by a vampire, so be it. He’s passed that threshold long ago. Fortunately, he does run into Tubbo, at the exit to the marketplace they had left several hours ago, but unfortunately, he immediately gets dragged back to their room at the tavern, sat down, and chewed out.

“I cannot believe you! What the fuck were you thinking?!” Tubbo says, shrill and panicked. “Letting him bite you?!”

“He was nice?” Ranboo defends, weakly.

“He was - he’s a vampire! I can’t fucking believe you. I just, I can’t! I can’t. Please tell me you’re okay,” Tubbo says, peering close to Ranboo’s neck and trying to pry Ranboo’s hands away from the handkerchief still covering the wound.

“Tubbo, I’m fine,” Ranboo insists. His eyes rove over Tubbo’s body, now that they’re in resting clothes, he can see how covered in bandages and bruises he is. “You look much worse off.”

“Well, yes, because I was the one actually fighting the stupid vampire instead of, you know,” he says, gesturing to all of Ranboo with a huff. He places a hand on his own neck and scratches at a bandage.

“...Is all that from the fight?” Ranboo asks.

Tubbo scratches at his neck again. “Pretty much. The stupid vampire wouldn’t stop taunting me, you know. Like, ooh, Technoblade told me not to kill you but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of fun, oooo, and what the fuck ever. Why the hell would vampires not kill, anyways? That’s so - I don’t get it!”

Ranboo shrugs. “I mean. Vampires used to be people too. Maybe we got, like, the only two good vampires?”

Tubbo barks a laugh. He presses the heel of his palm against his bandage this time. “Sure. Sure.”

Ranboo stares at the bandage under Tubbo’s hand. “Is that one okay? You keep scratching at it.”

Tubbo pauses. His face gets a little red. “I - it’s fine.”

Ranboo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.”

“We’re not talking about it.”

“Oh.”