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"Tubbo, you let me fucking-" Tommy's jaw cracked with a yawn, pushing up from where he'd slumped against the van window, "I'm not gonna sleep now!" he complained, wiping drool from his chin, "I told you to shake me!"
Tubbo, his awful, traitorous best friend, only laughed at his misery as they continued driving towards the egg yolk sun slipping down the horizon, "But you looked so sweet! You know how often I get to enjoy your company when you're not talking? Not often, I'll tell you that."
"Excuse you, I am a delight to be around at all times!" Tommy wiped the window too, mostly succeeding in smearing it, "And I am not sweet. I am handsome and sexy and godlike."
Tubbo snorted again, and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, "Sure thing bossman, whatever you say. We're almost at the next camping spot anyway. I dibs not setting up by the way."
"Hey! You can't dibs that when I'm basically still asleep!" Tommy protested, "It's not my fault you snore like a machine gun all night. If I set up the van, then you at least need to do the inside alright? And maybe make dinner."
"What, like a good fifties housewife? You can help with dinner, and then do the dishes too."
"You make dinner entirely, and I'll do the dishes and not complain about them."
"You have a deal." Tubbo reached across the seat to shake Tommy's hand, firmly once, "There should be some coffee left over in the thermos if you want to try and dose yourself back to sleep for the last hour or so."
"Nah, I'll save it for later. I do like actually sleeping at night." Tommy said, pulling out his phone and starting to scroll through some notifications. A few work emails, things he could sort out in the morning, mostly enquiries about ongoing project, and one new client he'd prioritise once it was a reasonable hour. Not subscribing to a normal nine to five didn't mean he existed at people's beck and call, no matter what some people seemed to think. Fucking customers.
At least it gave them this freedom. Work when they wanted, in between long stretches on the road, beholden to no company or schedule or demand of society.
Tommy let Tubbo deal with most of their permit bullshit, and therefore also their route and stops, so when they finally peeled off into a section of woodland, the area was entirely new to him. It was empty, which was how he liked it - they were two grown men travelling, so people usually didn't try to start it unless they were particularly homophobic (Tommy wasn't gay, but apparently Tubbo's aura was enough for both of them) - but there was nothing quite like the feeling of being a million miles away from society.
Far enough from the cities that the light pollution barely touched the swirl of the milky way above, where they were so dwarfed by the expanse of the universe around them, they might not exist at all. He'd found it uncanny, when they first set off, but it was familiar, now. Comforting.
It was difficult to be afraid of the night with the warm lights of the van spilling out into the darkness, illuminating a halo of safety around his sanctuary, a bubble kept safe from the rest of the world. They didn't have a water system to hook up to here, but there was a large freshwater river close enough that it wasn't too much of a hassle to head back and forth a few times so they had water for cooking and drinking. He could lug a basket of clothes down in the morning, wash them right there on the riverbank and hang them to dry on the line. They were due to stay here a couple of days anyway, no hurry.
Night had properly settled by the time they were too, dusk shrouding the campsite in warm arms, and the stars had begun to peek through the sparse clouds above. The scent of something meaty and good wafted through the air, and Tommy stepped back into the clearing to see Tubbo sat crossed legged by the fire he'd sparked up, occasionally poking a pot that sat over it.
He looked up as Tommy approached, face brightening like the sun emerging on a cloudy day. "Voila, dinner."
Tommy squinted, "Is it stew again?"
"What's wrong with stew!? Stew is great, it has all your nutritional needs and also if I cook it long enough it turns into mush and then I can basically drink it."
"I love stew too, but some people like actually chewing their food. Take my bowl off before it disintegrates, yeah?"
Tubbo rolled his eyes, but poked the pot obligingly, checking the firmness of the meat. Most of the stuff they had was preserved, cans and freeze dried goods they could stash in the storage compartments and forget about, but they picked up fresh stuff every time they drove through civilisation, and they'd sailed through a backwater town that morning with an actual grocery store.
"I'm gonna try finish up that project," his best friend said, lounging back in the beanbag chair he'd lugged from the van, "You know the one for that eccentric guy, that uh-"
Tommy snorted, sitting right down in the dirt where he was, "Tubso like half the people we work for are eccentric, customers are weird as fuck. I know what one you're on about though, I did some this morning, probably just needs some polishing to make sure it, you know, works."
"Alright, I'll do that in the morning then."
Tommy squinted, "Is this a ploy to make me do your laundry too."
"No!" Tubbo paused, "Well it wasn't, if you're offering-"
"I'm not!"
"Awhh, thanks Toms. You're the best laundry washer anyway, you-"
"I'm not eight, you can't do your fucking sike- siko-"
"Psychological?"
"Yeah, you can't do those tricks on me. I'll do it if you also deal with that asshole who wanted us to finish in half the project time, he's spamming our email again."
"Deal. I don't know why you can't stand him, you love yelling at people!"
"Yeah but you yell better, like- people don't realise you're being mean until they've already calmed down, and usually when I yell I get punched in the face. My nose is too beautiful to be broken."
Tubbo peered at his face in the firelight and shrugged, "It's crooked already, if you angled your face right maybe you could get it straight again."
Tommy jabbed a finger towards him, "Watch yourself Big T, before I watch you."
"What does that even mean?" Tubbo's laugh pealed out, reaching back over to poke the stew, "Stop being weird and go wash up, man, you smell like an armpit."
"Wash up with my water! That I got from the river while you were being horrible and cruel."
"While I was making your dinner," Tubbo corrected, "Go fucking shower!"
Tommy stood up and started towards the van, but only because he wanted to and nothing at all to do with the fact that Tubbo had threatened him with the stew spoon. 'Showering' was a concept that didn't exist without a proper water source, but they'd perfected spot showers since they'd started this whole thing, and he did need a scrub. They were due to hit another city next week, they could book a cheap motel for the night and take turns using up all the hot water.
When Tommy finished, sniffing his armpit to compare it to the rest of his body, a bowl of stew was perched on the rock beside his seat from before, steaming into the nights sky, clearly pulled straight from the flames. Now he was in his nightclothes, he didn't collapse back onto the grass, instead forcing Tubbo to shove over so they could share the beanbag. The smaller man struggled a moment, kicking and flailing as Tommy tried to use his height advantage against Tubbo's pure muscle, but his heart wasn't in it and he let Tommy flop down properly soon enough. This was possibly because they were right next to a fire, which either of them could roll into at any moment, but he chose to believe it was just because Tubbo loved him so much.
The stew was good, for something thrown together from stock cubes and hacked up meat and veg, and Tubbo's chin dug into his scalp as Tommy slowly made his way through the bowl.
When he finished, and Tubbo's portion was melted enough that it could probably be classified as soup, Tommy lay still for a long while, staring up at the swirling sky above. He remembered the first time he'd properly seen the sky, without the glow of a million lights to ruin it.
They'd been out in the desert, and he'd been stunned how quickly the temperature had dropped once the sun fell below the horizon. It seemed wrong, like the air should hold the heat better somehow, and he'd shivered so hard his teeth had nipped his tongue as they began their settling down process. So much clumsier than the routine they'd perfected today, a lot of fumbling and arguing as they tried to work it out, but eventually they'd managed to get everything in the right place and were ready for bed.
Not for sleep though, it was late but some strange current was running through them both, insisting they stay awake a little longer. They'd climbed atop the roof of the van, reluctant to touch the sand lest every snake in a mile radius decide to make a home in their shirts, and had flopped on their backs to better see the stars.
Tommy had thought he'd seen the stars before. Camping trips with his brother, all through their childhood - he thought he knew what a thousand tiny twinkling lights were. This was something entirely different, brighter than he'd thought possible, glimmering down at him like they knew their beauty and were proud of it.
It had stolen the breath from his chest back then, and still did today, peering up through the trees.
"Tubbo?" he asked suddenly, shifting to better drape himself across his friend's lap as Tubbo set aside his bowl.
The brunet made a noise of discontent as Tommy elbowed his stomach, but made no attempt to shove him off. "Yeah?"
"Do you think you'd ever be able to go back? To living like a normal person, I mean. Apartment somewhere, nine to five, get a dog or some shit."
"Fuck no," Tubbo laughed, "Imagine having to listen when a customer is being a dick? My lungs would revolt, they've gotten used to the fresh air - I cough every time we stop off somewhere populated. We could still get a dog here, you know?"
Tommy's nose wrinkled, "We could? But that's like a family thing."
"I'm pretty sure we've already established we're not doing this the normal way. We could be a family. Why, though? Were you thinking of ditching me?"
"Nah, just curious. I can't picture it either. Having to get up early because otherwise you'll get caught in traffic, instead of cause you wanna see the sun rise. Not being able to stop working just cause you're 'on the clock'. Going to every single family event cause 'I'm halfway across the country, sorry', isn't an excuse anymore. As long as you're not gonna ditch me, I'm fine."
Tubbo shoved his arm lightly, "You can't get rid of me. I'm gonna follow you round until you're sick of me, and then I'm gonna hire a private investigator to track you down. Or like, frame us for a crime so we can spend the rest of our lives in jail together."
Tommy laughed, and shoved back, "I think I'd just let you stay. I'm too pretty for jail."
"Too soft, I think you mean. If you can't bear slightly soggy stew then you'd starve to death in prison."
"Hey! Not all of us act like we're old men with dentures! Me and my nice, firm stew would be so successful in jail. Now shut up, some of us had a long day."
Tubbo gaped, "You napped the whole way! You-"
The shriek he made when Tommy rolled them both off the beanbag (away from the fire, he wasn't an idiot) was well worth getting dirt on his pajamas, and the knowledge he'd need to wash again before they went to bed.
Tubbo really should know better by this point.