Chapter Text
Ranboo’s fingers skitter nervously across the steering wheel. He tap-ta-taps out an unsteady rhythm, just barely keeping in time with the song playing quietly over the radio. The radio is still tuned to a station from about a thousand chunks back. Every once in a while, the connection will fizzle out and lose itself, drifting in and out of reality. Ranboo’s fingers never stop moving, keeping up the beat — uncertain yet unerring — until the white noise radio static hums back into something comprehensible.
Tubbo leans against the car door, his forehead smushed up against the window glass. Tubbo’s eyes never leave the road, but his smile grows a little wider every time he feels the burn of Ranboo’s gaze land on him for brief and flickering seconds. Making Ranboo nervous is funny. There isn’t anything to worry about. Not yet, at least. Everything is going well.
Ranboo doesn’t have anything to be afraid of, least of all Tubbo. It’s a truth he knows in his bones, even if Ranboo’s not quite with the program yet. It’s not a problem. Ranboo will figure it out soon enough.
Tubbo lifts a hand to the buttons on his door and rolls down his window.
A wordless noise startles out of Ranboo as he realizes what Tubbo is doing. Ranboo’s hand jumps to the window lock button before his hesitancy and second-guessing catches up with him and freezes him in place.
The window finishes rolling all the way down, filling the space with the tear of wind whipping through the small vehicle.
“Uh?” Ranboo’s eyes flick to Tubbo again, asking a million questions without saying much of anything at all.
Tubbo answers just as much as Ranboo asks. Tubbo hums back, feeling the grin split his face and bare too many teeth than would be considered polite for strangers. Tubbo feels the burn of Ranboo’s gaze flicker nervously away once more.
What, is Ranboo afraid he’ll jump out the window?
Actually, that is a reasonable fear. That’s definitely something he’d do.
For now, Tubbo only folds his arms across the open window and rests his chin on top of them. The sky is littered with a scattering of rolling clouds, but the sun peeks through just enough to settle warm against his arms and lap. The wind cards its way through his hair, tangling the strands between wild, intangible fingers. It buffets his face, cheeks already sore from the smile that hasn’t left him all day, maybe longer. Actually, he doesn’t think he’s stopped smiling since he asked the pounding tug in his chest to lead the way five hundred chunks south of the international airport right up to knock on the door of that shitty motel, and Ranboo answered. A stroke of luck, but he’ll call it genius.
Keeping his eyes open against the wind makes them tear up a bit, but he doesn’t dare close them for a second. His eyes trace carefully over every street, building, alleyway, crosswalk, and bus stop that speeds past. There’s nothing to be scared of, yet, but the thought of missing them — getting so close only to let them slip through his fingers because of one moment’s lazy mistake — now that makes a quiet fear squeeze tight around his throat and chest.
It takes a couple more half-fuzzed-out commercial breaks before Ranboo builds up the courage to open his mouth again. “So, uh, what actually is the plan here?” Ranboo asks over the roar of the wind and the hiss of radio static. “Sorry if that was rude, or, uh— I’m not, like, questioning you or your— uh, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”
“Simple. We find the others,” Tubbo answers, turning to lean back into the car and waving a hand vaguely towards the horizon line, or the red light they’re stopped at, or the city in general.
“You keep saying that…” Ranboo’s tone is skeptical. Excellent. Tubbo will lure that snark out of hiding soon enough. Tubbo catches more and more glimpses of the mocking sarcasm he knows and loves as Ranboo slowly grows more comfortable around him again. Maybe it would go faster if he stopped intentionally making Ranboo nervous. In his defense, it is funny, but the novelty is wearing off fast and the glimpses are making him homesick.
“Well, I don’t know. Not much else to do, is there? Figure we might as well,” Tubbo admits with a shrug that he tries to play off as casual.
“Uh-huh… And who, exactly, are we looking for?” Ranboo asks the stranger in his car.
The cold wash of reality makes the grin fade in bits from Tubbo’s face. He smiles, but it’s a lopsided and semi-sweet thing. It’s too easy to pretend that everything is exactly how it used to be until Ranboo goes and says something like that.
“Just some friends of mine,” and that’s half the truth, but not even close to the whole of it.
Tubbo loves Ranboo too much to lie to him, except for when he does.
The truth hurts, and Tubbo loves Ranboo too much to hurt him.
Ranboo takes an aimless right turn at a random intersection, his eyes fixed on the road to avoid looking at Tubbo. “Are you sure they’re here?”
Tubbo wiggles his hand in a side-to-side motion. “Eeh, maybe. I can definitely feel they’re close. They’ve got to be somewhere around here.”
“Ah, yes. Feel them. Of course.” Ranboo takes one hand off the steering wheel to gesture broadly at the city surrounding them on all sides. “Have you considered just… I don’t know. Calling them?”
A bark of a laugh forces its way from Tubbo’s throat. The grin is back with a vengeance, and the force of it makes his face ache. “Wish it were that easy, bossman!”
Ranboo’s hand returns to the wheel and his fingers dance lightly across the surface, a nervous habit. “You can, uh, use my phone, if you don’t have one, if that’s the problem. Sorry, was that rude? I didn’t mean to just assume you don’t have a phone. But really, it’s no problem. Obviously. I mean, I’m driving you across the country. Borrowing a phone is at least a step below that in terms of, like, effort to go through to help you out, man.”
“Thanks. I—” Tubbo chokes on his nonchalance. He’s suddenly slammed with the full force of the reality of the situation.
The sight of Ranboo’s face — not the clean split of a black and white divide, but an unremarkable uniformity dusted by tan and blush, painfully human — makes a special kind of cognitive dissonance rear its head and scream. Tubbo forces himself to breathe through the slam of nausea, forcing it down and away.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
It’s so, so easy to pretend. When Ranboo is here next to him, chatting away like they’ve known each other for years, decades, eons. But Ranboo doesn’t know him. Ranboo doesn’t know him. Ranboo is doing all of this for Tubbo, some stranger, a dude he’s never met. Tubbo may not know this Ranboo, not really, but the overwhelming selflessness that draws Tubbo to his side remains.
“I— appreciate it,” Tubbo breathes haltingly, tripping over words spilling out of his mouth.
There aren’t enough words in the world to say everything he needs to say. There are a million things that want to come rushing out of Tubbo’s mouth all at once: the quick quip of an inside joke, an assurance of safety whenever Tubbo is around, a love confession well worn, the painful truth, the absolute truth. Tubbo presses his lips tightly together, biting the inside of his cheek hard. Ranboo doesn’t know him. And Tubbo doesn’t know Ranboo. Not here, in this time, in this place. Not anymore.
The car falls into silence.
A patch of green rolls by the window, a square of public park nestled in the middle of this sprawling city. Water arcs high into the air from a fountain in the pond. In the distance, a set of playground equipment hosts a handful of squealing kids. Tubbo immediately looks away. Fuck. Fuck. He misses Michael. He misses home. He misses the Ranboo who knew him. This was a terrible idea, actually. He should have just stayed in the UK. He should have just let the server reset his memory like everyone else.
Tubbo twists his fingers, rubbing mindlessly at the spot where a gold wedding band might have once occupied in another life. A nervous habit.
Ranboo takes a turn at the next street, and the park disappears behind the peeling paint siding of someone’s home. Tubbo blinks until the tears that threaten and burn at his eyes abate to manageable submission. They drift out of the radio tower’s signal area, and the radio fuzzes out once more. This time, Ranboo reaches out and hits the power button on the dashboard, and the only thing left is the quiet rush of wind from Tubbo’s open window.
In the silence, Tubbo can hear the quiet sound of Ranboo’s mouth opening and closing, hesitant. Finally, Ranboo voices the question that’s been hiding behind radio static and red lights. “Why… me? Why am I here?”
Now it’s Tubbo’s turn to hesitate. “You suggesting I find someone else crazy enough to drive a stranger they just met across the country?” He hopes the chuckle he gives is convincing.
It’s not.
Ranboo says nothing, and the silence stretches like an open wound. Tubbo twitches, annoyed. Irritated at himself.
“I don’t know,” he snaps, a little bitter, a little harsh. “You’re the one who offered me a ride. You tell me, bossman.” The deflection is weak, the sharp edge of his words trailing off into a half-hearted grumble.
He’s being too obvious, not even trying at this point, but honestly, he’s tired of it all. He’s homesick for a place that’s gone forever. He figures he’s allowed to be a little bit sad.
“Okay,” Ranboo says cautiously, like approaching a cat all bristled-up and hissing. “It’s okay if you don’t, uh, want to talk about it. I’m sure you have your reasons. But, uh, it’s okay if you do— want to talk about it.”
Tubbo feels the gentle burn of Ranboo’s gaze on the side of his head, and he feels sick.
Tubbo whips his gaze to Ranboo, staring him down dead in the eyes. He turns his whole body to focus his attention, his whole being, on the stranger in the driver’s seat.
“I would nuke someone for you,” Tubbo says plainly with all the confidence in the world. Because he has. He’s done it before and he would do it again in an instant — a thousand times over.
It strikes him with a sudden gripping fury. He needs Ranboo to know. He needs Ranboo to know it like Tubbo knows it, deep and intrinsic. Utter truth.
“That’s… nice?” Ranboo says, hesitant, cautious, nervous.
“Your face is nice,” Tubbo spits, because that’s also the truth.
“Thank you?” Ranboo’s voice pitches up into incredulity.
Tubbo can’t help the unwelcome laugh that rips its way from his throat. It’s either laugh or cry at this point, and if he starts crying he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop. So he laughs until his whole body shakes with it, and even Ranboo chuckles nervously along.
Ranboo doesn’t get it. And Tubbo desperately tries to convince himself that that’s alright. He will soon. It’s a work in progress.
Tubbo’s eyes float back out the window, returning to their ever-vigilant watch of the city streets. There’s a flash, so brief, he almost misses it. But it’s there. A flash of light, color, a bright signal flare from some deep part of his mind bursting violently to the surface. The deep pull in his chest tugs him right out of his seat, leaning straight out the window and throwing himself up onto the window frame, twisting his whole body to catch that fleeting glimpse, to hold on for just another moment. He won’t lose them. He can’t.
“Tubbo— Tubbo! Tubbo!” Ranboo shouts with rapidly increasing panic.
Tubbo feels a hand grab tight to the back of his jacket. Long fingers lock on to the fabric in a desperate grip, latching on to him, steady and grounding. Ranboo’s lanky form is stretched out across the car, leaning over the center console. He’s got one hand on the wheel and one hand firmly attached to the back of Tubbo’s jacket.
“Turn around! I saw them, I saw them!” Tubbo insists, leaning further out the window.
“Get back in the car, man! Seriously!” He hears Ranboo shriek over the wind whipping in his ears. “I promise we will turn around first thing after you get back in the gosh dang car!”
The genuine fear spiking in Ranboo’s voice is enough to have Tubbo obeying the order on instinct, even if only to put himself in closer proximity to a distressed Ranboo. Keeping Ranboo safe is always top priority, and keeping Ranboo safe usually means putting a swift and immediate end to anything that makes Ranboo sound like that.
Sitting back in his seat, Tubbo glares at Ranboo with a spark of irritation. How dare Ranboo use the power he doesn’t know he has over Tubbo to make Tubbo be safe and protect him from what was undeniably a stupid and dangerous move. Thoroughly thwarted, Tubbo reaches out and tries to make a grab for the steering wheel instead. Ranboo is quick to bat his hands away with a sharp noise from the back of his throat.
“We’re going! We’re going! Jeez. Calm down.”
True to his word, Ranboo makes a U-turn and drives back to retrace their path.
Tubbo leans over the center console, his attention wholly focused on the sidewalk opposite them, searching with unwavering intensity for that glimpse of home.
“Um,” Ranboo says, raising objection to Tubbo leaning across his lap and blocking his vision. “Please. I’m trying not to crash here.”
Well, he can suck it up. There are more important matters at hand than a little violation of personal space among friends— strangers— whatever. Ranboo should be grateful that Tubbo’s still inside the car.
Ranboo sighs deeply, seeming to sense Tubbo’s thoughts when he hasn’t said a word. “Okay.”
Tubbo hums, pleased, and pats Ranboo’s arm without taking his eyes off the sidewalk.
“Should we get out and walk? Might be better for, uh, you know, people finding,” Ranboo suggests, leaning sideways around Tubbo so he can see out the windshield.
A glimpse. A flash of light off the surface of a rounded glasses lens. The sharp sound of ecstatic laughter, ringing too loud to be anything but achingly familiar.
“There! There they are!” Tubbo shouts, slapping a hand against Ranboo’s arm frantically.
“Okay! I’m pulling over!” Ranboo accedes instantly, quick and steady and perfect.
Ranboo swerves the car over to the shoulder of the road. It’s not technically a legal parking spot, per se, and there’s a parking meter a few yards away demanding payment that gets thoroughly ignored, but none of that matters at all. Tubbo’s got his door open before the car stops moving and he’s already out the door when he hears the stick grind forebodingly as Ranboo slams the car into park. Ranboo hastily slaps the button for the hazard lights, ever diligent. The car’s steady blink, blink, blink fades into the background of city noise as Tubbo darts away.
He’s too far away. He’s so close. Every second is another moment they could slip away. He needs to get to the other side of that road if it kills him.
“Wait! C’mon, man! Please don’t die! I’m gonna feel so bad if you die,” Ranboo calls out urgently, using his truly unfair reach advantage to grab Tubbo by the back of his jacket once again.
Tubbo forces the beaming grin off his face just long enough to glare at Ranboo.
Ranboo raises an eyebrow. “Huh, so it turns out this is the only way to— Tubbo!”
Tubbo slips his arms out of his jacket and dodges straight into traffic, leaving Ranboo holding nothing but the limp fabric. It’s warm out, he doesn’t need the layers anyway.
He can hear Ranboo give chase after him, quickly shouting apologies to the cars that slam on their brakes to avoid hitting the teenagers in the road.
Tubbo flies across the pavement. The rubber of his shoes snaps against the ground in quick steps, barely hitting the earth before he’s up and off again. Ranboo’s longer strides echo his, reassuring the frantic, desperate beat in his chest.
Tubbo skids to a stop on the safety of the sidewalk, whipping his head around to catch another glimpse of that bright spot in his heart. Ranboo comes up beside him, breathing heavy, and before he’s even stopped moving he throws out a hand and wraps it in a vice lock around Tubbo’s wrist, holding on for dear life.
“You are not doing that again! Also! I take it back! I am gonna charge you for the help! You owe me so much money for this!” Ranboo tightens his grip, all that polite nervous hesitation gone without a trace. Good riddance.
Tubbo cackles, the pure blinding joy he feels burst in his chest overwhelming that desperate need to search, if only for a moment.
Tubbo rams his head affectionately into Ranboo’s side, feeling Ranboo’s breath rush out of him at the impact.
“Oww,” Ranboo whines, a bit too dramatic to be entirely genuine.
The material of Ranboo’s button-down shirt is warm and soft against Tubbo’s forehead. He can feel the pulse of Ranboo’s heartbeat inside his ribs, steady and familiar. Tubbo stays leaning against Ranboo for a moment longer, feeling like a thief, yet utterly unashamed.
“C’mon, don’t slow me down now, bossman. We’re so close,” Tubbo says brightly, pulling away before he decides to stay there forever. He has things to do, after all. Can’t afford to be distracted.
Ranboo good-naturedly continues to allow Tubbo to lead the way, never once letting go of his hold on Tubbo’s wrist. Tubbo is perfectly willing to use that to his advantage, tugging Ranboo along after him as he sets off down the street, following the urgent pull in his chest.
Ranboo, still dutifully carrying Tubbo’s jacket tucked under the arm that’s not currently latched onto Tubbo, clears his throat. “I might be more help if you tell me what I’m supposed to be looking for. I can see over the crowd better than you can.”
Tubbo glances over his shoulder at the exceptionally tall boy being dragged along in his wake. “You calling me short?”
“I’m not not calling you short,” Ranboo hums with saccharine audacity.
Tubbo hip-checks him for that one. “We’ll see how tall you are when I take out your knees, dickhead.”
That gets a laugh from Ranboo, a bright and bursting thing, like it’s bigger and louder than it expects itself to be.
Then he sees them.
Ranboo’s saying something, but Tubbo can’t hear a word of it.
His ears ring with the deafening pound of his heartbeat.
Two people stand at the street corner.
One stands hunched in at the shoulders, a wave of brown curls falling loose over the rounded edge of wireframe glasses, the pull of a smirk resting comfortably at the corner of his lip, a deep well of shadows bruising dark under his eyes, well-hidden nerves showing through only in the twitch of his fingers.
The other orbits in unsteady circles, dancing around him in constant motion, rapid-fire words on his tongue blending together, only broken up by the burst of unrestrained laughter that pulls the crinkle of crow’s feet from the corners of his eyes.
Both of them remain insultingly tall.
The buzzing thing in his chest sings. Home.
“Tommy!” Tubbo shouts at the top of his lungs. “Wilbur!”
Wilbur and Tommy’s heads turn upon hearing their names, like flowers turning to greet the sun. Tubbo can’t help the way he beams when their attention falls on him. He feels a missing piece slotting into place perfectly, just like it was always meant to, filling the space that had been yawning, devoid, empty for so long. His chest floods in a rush of something warm and bubbly and revered. Something inside him wants to sing, or laugh, or maybe scream and break down crying in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Who’s—” Ranboo’s cut off with a huff of breath when Tubbo yanks him forward.
Tubbo races across the remaining distance, covering the final stretch to the finish line. He comes to a stop too close in their space for strangers, too close to be anything but familiar.
“Oh, heyyy…” Wilbur starts, but his confidence trails off rapidly as the seconds tick by and he fails to come up with a name. Tubbo sees the fear enter his eyes, the awful dawning horror when you can tell that someone recognizes you but you have no idea who the fuck they are.
Tubbo is maliciously gleeful, entirely willing to enjoy watching him flounder. The asshole. Prime, how Tubbo missed him.
“…You.” Wilbur finishes with a wince after several agonizing seconds of dead silence. He’s quick to give a charismatic twist of an awkward smile and a casual shrug in the roll of his shoulders, as if to say isn’t this embarrassing for the both of us.
Tommy is on the same page as Tubbo — as in this world, so in the next — and he doesn’t hesitate to burst out laughing at Wilbur’s expense. Tubbo laughs too. Tubbo couldn’t stop himself if he tried.
“I’m sorry, man, but where do we know you from?” Wilbur asks, his tone friendly, not quite suspicious just yet. But he will be.
Tubbo could lie, it might make Wilbur more comfortable, but Tubbo doesn’t intend to do him any favors.
Tubbo opts to go for the simplest route. “Oh, you don’t.”
Wilbur is silent for a beat. “…Right.”
In the silence, Tubbo’s grin stretches out across his face, bearing too many teeth for polite company.
“Yeah… he just kind of does that,” Ranboo speaks up softly, an awkward chuckle and a small polite wave drawing Wilbur and Tommy’s eyes up to him for the first time. “I’m so sorry about him, really.”
Tommy is quick to pick up the thread of conversation with a smile and easy chatter. “So, what? You go around yelling names until someone answers? You on a gameshow or something?”
“No? I don’t think so?” Ranboo wavers, pausing to consider the possibility. “Although that would make more sense, honestly. Hey, Tubbo, are we on a game show and you just haven’t told me?”
“Nope,” Tubbo chirps with a smile.
“Ah, so man’s lost it, then.” Tommy nods in stoic understanding as if this is a perfectly routine and expected occurrence. Tommy isn’t able to hold down a straight face for more than a couple seconds, and a gleeful bark of laughter escapes as his face falls back into a grin.
Ranboo shrugs, a matching smile fighting its way onto his face. “You get used to it.”
“Alright, so who the fuck are you, then?” Wilbur challenges, undeterred by their antics. His tone is still friendly, but his eyes are cold and guarded.
Unfortunate, really. This would be so much easier if Wilbur would just get with the program and didn’t ask stupid, unnecessary questions.
“I'm Tubbo, and this is Ranboo,” Tubbo says with a wave of his hand to indicate the taller boy. “He’s American.”
Wilbur’s face screws up at one side, the corner of his mouth twisting down and one eyebrow raising in a blatant show of disbelief, wordlessly calling them on their bullshit. He doesn’t trust them one bit, and he wants them to know it.
“No,” Wilbur draws the word out, incredulity layering his tone.
Tubbo tips his head, uncertain which part of that statement in particular Wilbur is objecting to. It’s all true, after all.
“No really, he is! Ranboo, say something American!” Tubbo shakes the arm that Ranboo’s holding, craning his neck to look imploringly up at the taller boy.
“Uh—” Ranboo puts his hand up in the universal sign for I did not ask to be involved in this.
Wilbur splutters. “No! That’s— not— no way his name is Ranboo.” Wilbur enunciates the name harshly, spitting his blatant disbelief.
Ah, there’s that good old unfettered distrust. Like a balm to Tubbo’s soul. The familiarity of it makes Tubbo want to melt. He’s never felt more welcome.
“Uh, yeah, no. It's not,” Ranboo mutters, a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, eyes flickering away to avoid looking at anything in particular. His tone is grim like he’s admitting to a dire mistake. “Tubbo just started calling me that and I kinda… went along with it?”
Tubbo goes still for a moment when he realizes his error, but the next moment shrugs it off with an easy smile. Oh well. Nothing to be done about it now. Ranboo certainly doesn’t seem to mind.
“Well, alright. What is your name, then?” Wilbur’s bravado is out in full force, a flashy display that screams I already know your tricks, so don’t even try. Tubbo can’t believe he ever fell for it before.
Ranboo hesitates for a long moment. Tubbo feels the way his long fingers squeeze nervously around Tubbo’s wrist. “Uh… You know what? Probably best not to give my name out to strangers, actually. No offense.”
Tommy laughs. “What, you don't trust us Ranboo?” Tommy tries to mimic Wilbur’s harsh enunciation, but the levity in his tone breaks the illusion.
“No, actually. Not at all.” Ranboo shakes his head, a smile creeping back onto his lips.
“Right. And your name is… Tubbo?” Wilbur turns his scrutinizing gaze in Tubbo's direction with a tilt of his head. Wilbur is uncomfortable, nervous tension lining every inch of his defensive posture. Good. Tubbo doesn’t like to see him too comfortable.
“Yup,” Tubbo offers easily, popping the P.
“If we’re all getting fake names, I want to be Big Man,” Tommy offers enthusiastically, excess energy buzzing in his step as he paces in place.
“No,” Wilbur shoots him down without a second’s hesitation.
“Yes,” Tommy insists breezily, completely immune to the fond eye roll Wilbur sends his way. “Big Man Tommy, Haver of Wives. So very many wives. I say to them, ‘you are too good to me, I do not deserve you.’ And then they leave.”
“Oh,” Ranboo mutters, sounding like he doesn’t know what else to say.
A wheezing laugh startles out of Tubbo, tearing from his chest uninvited, but oh so welcome. He always forgets the effect that Tommy has on people who aren’t used to him. He’s not worried. Ranboo will have all the time in the world to grow reaccustomed to Tommy. Tubbo will make certain of it. Now that Tubbo has found them, nothing short of total planetary annihilation will take them away from him.
Total planetary annihilation, or maybe the paranoia of one Wilbur Soot. Tubbo’s eyes carefully trace the way Wilbur crosses his arms over his chest, defensive, and the deepening of the deadly serious furrow that creases his brow. Wilbur knows just enough to know he’s out of his depth, and it scares him. He’s not concerned for himself, of course. Not even in a new world would this man place that much care on his own wellbeing, but the way Wilbur angles his body to keep himself between them and Tommy speaks volumes.
Tubbo grins. It’s maybe a little too menacing.
“So, write any good songs lately?” Tubbo asks with faux innocence, just to freak Wilbur out.
Tubbo watches the dread creep into Wilbur’s expression. In an instant, the man’s stance goes rigid and tense all over, his shoulders straightening out as if Tubbo shocked him with a live wire. Tubbo cackles with giddy delight.
“Wait, wait, no, really! How do you know us?” Tommy asks, skipping around Wilbur and ignoring the man’s growing horror to lean in close to Tubbo like kids sharing secrets.
Tubbo watches the way Wilbur’s fingers twitch in an aborted motion to reach out and pull Tommy back behind him, and his grin splits his face impossibly wider.
“Well, I know you’ve probably got a pet spider. Shroud?” Tubbo’s honestly just guessing, but he knows that he’s hit the jackpot when Tommy’s eyes widen, sparkling with something like awe, the pull of relentless curiosity when you realize the world is bigger than you thought it was before.
Tommy hums, managing to wrangle his expression into a mockery of something cool, calm, and collected. “Hmm. You know too much. I’m sorry, but I must kill you now. Unfortunate, but it had to happen.”
Tubbo bursts into giggles and Tommy’s charade breaks the moment after, looking nothing short of absolutely elated.
“Tubbo! My friend!” Tommy takes a bold step forward, crossing the invisible line between the them-and-us. Wilbur jerks forward, pulled like a magnet, visibly itching to pull Tommy back behind him, away from the potentially dangerous strangers. “Do tell me more about how to read minds. Give me your secrets, I promise I will only sometimes use them for evil.”
Tubbo sticks out his tongue at Wilbur. Ha, Tommy likes Tubbo better and he doesn’t even know Tubbo.
Ranboo eyes Wilbur warily, feeling the threatening aura pouring off the man increase tenfold with the promise of swift and immediate violence.
“Welp! Okay. This sure has been… something!” Ranboo says with wavering cheer, trying to maintain a nervous amiability. “I think we’re gonna go now, you know, before we get the cops called on us. Or stabbed. Which is feeling more and more likely.”
“Aww, but I don’t want to leave!” Tubbo whines, spinning to face Ranboo. “Can we at least take Tommy with us? We can keep him, can’t we?”
“No, actually!” Ranboo says already starting to back away in small steps without taking his eyes off Wilbur. “How about not that?”
“Please Ranboo?” Tubbo pleads, forcing Ranboo to pay attention to him with a tug of his arm.
“Yeah, Ranboo, please?” Tommy slides right into place beside Tubbo, turning his puppy dog eyes on full force directly at Ranboo without an ounce of hesitation.
“Oh wow,” Ranboo utters on a nervous exhale. Then quietly, under his breath, “you guys are really good at that.”
Tubbo decides to take that as a victory, bearing a smug smile to match the satisfaction warming his chest and bubbling in his veins.
Tubbo hums, graciously allowing Ranboo to retreat a few paces now that he’s gotten his way. “Do you remember where we left the car? I think it was a bad parking spot—”
“Definitely not a parking spot,” Ranboo amends, muttering to himself more than anything. “It was actually in front of a bus stop, I think. Very illegal.”
“—so we should go get that before someone tows it,” Tubbo finishes. He spins to face Tommy, ignoring the way the motion makes his arm twist awkwardly in Ranboo’s grip. “You wanna go for a ride?”
Tommy’s quick to answer, “Yeah!”
“Tommy, no!” Wilbur shouts, distressed.
“Don’t be a pussy!” Tommy yells back at double the volume, already skipping away on light feet.
“Do not get in stranger’s cars!” Wilbur’s voice pitches up rapidly, all his facades disintegrating in an instant as his hand flies to grab at his hair in a show of undisguised horror.
Ignoring the rapid-fire argument that breaks out between Wilbur and Tommy, Tubbo turns back to Ranboo, swinging their linked arms with an infectious glee. “You’re American. You live around here, right?”
Ranboo hums, “Not at all, actually.”
“Well, you must know some good places to eat,” Tubbo continues, breezing past that minor obstacle. “I’m hungry. Also, I don’t have any American money.”
“You want me to buy you lunch?” Ranboo asks, part incredulous, part defeated, like he can already tell how this is going to end and is preemptively disappointed in himself for giving in.
“Yes, please,” Tubbo sing-songs with a smile, feeling buoyant enough that nothing in this world or the next could bring down his good mood. “If you would.”
Ranboo stares at Tubbo dead-faced for a silent moment. Then, he heaves a deep sigh.
“Yay!” Tubbo cheers, lovingly ramming his head into Ranboo’s side.
Ranboo grunts at the impact, his breath forced out of his lungs.
“You owe me so much for this,” Ranboo mutters, his voice thick with affection. He carefully moves his arm to keep Tubbo’s from twisting awkwardly as it becomes clear that Tubbo does not intend to move from their new position.
“I love you. I would nuke someone for you,” Tubbo says into Ranboo’s side, utter truth.
“So you’ve said,” Ranboo chuckles, draping Tubbo’s jacket over his shoulders.
Tommy bounds over to Tubbo and Ranboo, walking backward to face Wilbur as he shouts, “Wilbur! I’m going with the weirdos! I’ll be back in… eh, eventually. Or maybe I won’t! Who knows! Buh-bye!”
“Tommy Innit!” Wilbur snaps furiously.
“Ooh, the full name,” Ranboo quips in a hushed tone.
Tommy groans, long and dramatic. “Well if you’re so worried about me just come on, then!” Tommy turns to Tubbo and Ranboo, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I’m sorry about him.”
“’S alright, I know how he is,” Tubbo dismisses with a wave of his hand, finally pulling away from Ranboo’s side.
“What an incredibly strange and concerning thing to say!” Tommy gasps, delighted.
Ranboo leads the way back to the car, which is indeed parked in front of a bus stop. He even insists they take the long way around, crossing the street at a pedestrian crosswalk rather than just dodging in front of traffic. Tommy is quick on the uptake, slotting right into place like coming home. He orbits around the pair in relentless motion, keeping stride with Ranboo one moment before bounding over to Tubbo’s side the next. Wilbur trails a few steps behind, scowling the whole way. Maybe Tubbo should be nicer to him. He’s stuck with them now, after all, whether he likes it or not. He might as well not be unpleasant the whole time.
Tubbo smiles and lets the rise and fall of Ranboo and Tommy’s conversation wash over him contentedly. The last fading rays of the warm summer sun sink into his skin, their shadows stretching out in front of them, leading the way onward. Tubbo closes his eyes, trusting Ranboo to guide him steady and keep him safe. He just wants to feel this moment.
It’s not the same, but it is home.