Chapter Text
"You could live here, if you want."
Ranboo and Tubbo sit on the roof of a factory in Snowchester. A gut feeling suggests to Ranboo that the factory may be more than meets the eye, but his memory has never been all that reliable, and it's none of his business anyway.
Ranboo isn't really sure why he's here, if he's honest, but he guesses it's because Snowchester is a calming place. The snow falls in gentle flurries onto the icy docks, with just enough warmth from the sun peeking out behind the clouds to keep him from freezing.
The whole place looks like a painting you'd see in a hotel lobby. Serene, still, and practically perfect. Nothing that would imply Tubbo had built it himself.
Tubbo, in contrast to Snowchester, is glaringly imperfect. Ranboo glances over at him, shirt buttoned wrong and snowflakes in his hair, winding a loose thread from his gloves around his fingers just to see how long it will take for them to unravel. Tubbo has always been messy and unpredictable, interesting in a way that Ranboo hasn't seen anyone match yet.
Maybe Snowchester looks the way it does for a reason, Ranboo ponders. Tubbo interrupts him before he can get further.
"Hello? Earth to Ranboo, are you listening to me?"
Ranboo startles. "What? I- sorry, can you repeat that?"
Tubbo rolls his eyes. "You were staring, big guy. Thought you hated staring."
Ranboo scoffs. He hadn't been staring. Well, he had, but he'd merely been... Observing.
"I don't hate staring, I just... Don't like eye contact for long periods of time." He ducks his head away from Tubbo, rubbing at the back of his neck, the tips of his fingers almost cold enough to make him shiver.
Beside him, Tubbo shifts. "Hmm. Not even if their eyes are really pretty?"
That throws Ranboo for a loop. When Ranboo risks a glance at him, he accidentally meets Tubbo's gaze, and for a brief moment it's all baby blues and a quirked brow, and Ranboo feels like Tubbo is looking through him, like he can see right into Ranboo's head and pluck out any of his thoughts and-
Nope. Ranboo jerks his head away, clenching his jaw. He's getting better, but eye contact is still too much.
Tubbo clears his throat. "I was saying you could move here," he offers almost as an apology. "If you wanted."
Ranboo stiffens. He weighs his options, letting his eyes flit between the soft flurries of snow and the sunlight glistening across the waves.
"I'm... I already have a house. Far from here."
"With Technoblade and Phil. I know."
Ranboo turns to ask if he'd slipped up, already mentally kicking himself, but Tubbo shuts him down, still fiddling with his gloves. "You didn't tell me, don't worry."
"Well, then, what- how-"
"I may have gotten caught, Ranboo, but I wasn't that bad of a spy."
Something brief and terrible flickers across Tubbo's face, so pained and afraid that it makes Ranboo want to hand craft him a powerful set of armor, but it's gone in an instant. "I still know how to gather intel."
A small part of Ranboo thinks he should ask about that, but he knows he isn't going to. He and Tubbo have a fragile peace at the minute, only ever making small talk and light-hearted jokes. Ranboo worries that if the conversation ever gets serious, they'll turn on each other.
No, that isn't right. Ranboo doesn't worry about that, actually. He isn't even sure if he and Tubbo could be considered friends.
(They had been friends in New L'Manberg, he thinks. Ranboo can remember their late nights, with Tubbo following him on mining trips or showing him around the sewers or doing anything he could to make Ranboo feel more at home. He always had bags under his eyes and a too-big suit on, visibly exhausted to the point where Ranboo was sure he'd collapse at any minute.
Tubbo is sarcastic and snarky but still undeniably kind, and besides that, he's smart. Ranboo had taken on too much at once, and their friendship had suffered for it, but he does still admire Tubbo. Even if admire doesn't feel quite like the right word.)
Ranboo brushes a thumb over his memory book, the knowledge of Tubbo's entry still fresh in his mind from his quick recap on the way over.
Tubbo: Ex-president. Tommy's friend. Lives in Snowchester. Friend?
"You don't have to, I guess," Tubbo shrugs, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Just a suggestion."
"You're sure you want me to live here?"
Tubbo frowns. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, I mean, we're... We're not exactly friends."
Tubbo's hand - the bad one, the one that's mostly scar tissue - twitches, and Ranboo can sense that he's said something wrong. "Are we not?"
Ranboo freezes. "I... I don't know, are we? I mean, you did drop an anvil-"
Tubbo groans. "I said I was sorry about that, and I also said I'd stop with the experiments."
Ranboo huffs. It doesn't bother him as much now that it's been a few weeks, but the whole experiment thing still doesn't sit right with him. It makes him feel like Tubbo keeps him around as a novelty, purely out of scientific interest, like a zoo animal to gape at.
"Well, why have me around then? If you're not doing the experiments anymore, I mean. Aren't I mostly good for being a lab rat?"
Tubbo whirls to face him, hands sliding aside fresh snow as he readjusts. "A lab- what? Ranboo, is that what you think I think of you?" Tubbo's face is all screwed up, and he looks genuinely hurt, which throws Ranboo off guard.
Ranboo angles his face away, staring instead at the brightly colored laces Tubbo uses on his boots. "I mean, the first time we talked after- after Doomsday, you sort of... Started experimenting on me, so."
Tubbo makes a noise at that, some sort of half-word. Ranboo tries to shift his gaze to Tubbo's face, but can't force himself, settling instead for the soft fur lining the hood of Tubbo's coat and the equally soft-looking hair that nearly reaches it. "What was I supposed to think?"
"I... I was trying to help." Tubbo looks down at his hands, staring like he's disgusted with himself, and Ranboo feels an equal amount of guilt and confusion. "What?"
"You... When- when we talked, that first time, you said- you were talking about your memory. And- you- it seemed like it bothered you, like you really struggled with it, so..."
Tubbo bites the inside of his cheek, and Ranboo's mind races. His memory book hadn't mentioned that. Why wouldn't it have mentioned that? Why would he have excluded context important enough to rip apart a friendship?
"As soon as you told me it was hurting you, I stopped. I just wanted to help you fix it, Ranboo, I didn't..."
Tubbo curls in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest, resting his head on his folded arms. He doesn't look ashamed as much as he looks exhausted, and Ranboo wishes he didn't feel so bad for him. Because, again, they aren't really friends - they've had a handful of conversations since Doomsday, and this is as serious as they've gotten.
"Either way," Ranboo shrugs, bringing his legs up to sit criss-cross, unintentionally mirroring Tubbo. "I still betrayed you, so."
Tubbo hums. "Did you, though?"
Ranboo stills at that. His immediate thought is that Tubbo is onto something, but he quickly dismisses it, because how does that make any sense?
"I... I did, yeah, for sure I did."
"Yeah, I guess you did."
There's a moment of calm between them, after that - only the distant lapping of the waves and the faint sound of wind chimes to fill the silence. Ranboo can see Tubbo tracing figures in the snow out of the corner of his eye. Two stick people holding hands.
One of them is taller than the other.
"Do you regret it?" Tubbo's voice holds no emotion, completely cordial and diplomatic, but Ranboo can see in the way he chews his lip and slumps his shoulders that there's a very clear correct answer.
Still, Ranboo doesn't fancy himself a liar.
"No," he admits. "I... Don't think I do."
"Hm," Tubbo acknowledges. He finishes the details on his stick figures and vanishes them with one swipe of his hand, just as Ranboo was getting attached.
And then, not for the first or last time, Tubbo surprises him.
"I appreciate your honesty."
Ranboo frowns, tail lashing behind him. "I'm sorry, what? Tubbo, I betrayed you. Don't you care?"
"Oh, of course I care, Ranboo," he sighs, "I just..." Tubbo fully faces him, now, and criss-crosses his legs on purpose. Ranboo still doesn't meet his eyes, gaze settling on Tubbo's choppy bangs, and Tubbo doesn't appear to mind.
"I don't think everything has to be a big betrayal, you know? I think sometimes people are just people, and they do people things. And sometimes I don't like those things, or I don't agree with them, but it doesn't mean they did those things to upset me. Does that make sense?"
Ranboo opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finds the words. "I- yeah," he admits. "Yeah, that makes a lot of sense, Tubbo."
Ranboo isn't surprised at Tubbo's wisdom as much as he's startled by the deep chord they'd struck within him. He makes a mental note to write that one down, to tuck it away somewhere safe for later.
People are just people.
"Plus, I... I dunno. I'm kind of glad you did it? 'Cause like, okay, Tommy didn't- he didn't really have anyone except Techno, right? And that's... Not a very good way to be, y'know?"
Ranboo wants to protest at that, but his memory miraculously provides flashes of the many layers he'd had to dig through to get any kind of reaction from Techno, much less an admission of affection. Even Ranboo could admit that Techno wasn't the best person to mentor someone who had just come out of the situation Tommy had been in.
"Yeah, I... Yeah. You're right."
"Right, but like... If you'd told me, when it was happening, that you'd been going to see them, I would've... I was the president, so I would've had to, like, go and... And get them, or execute them both or- I don't know. Something awful, I'm sure."
Ranboo can't find it in him to blame Tubbo for his actions as president. Like Tubbo had said, he'd just been a person doing people things, and Ranboo is sure he hadn't meant to offend him personally.
"So, basically, like... You provided comfort, or friendship, or... Something to Tommy while I couldn't, and you didn't tell me about it, which actually helped me... Plus, it isn't like you actually gave Techno any weapons or, like, state secrets or anything."
"I didn't actually know very many state secrets," Ranboo points out. "And if I did, I forgot them."
The corner of Tubbo's mouth quirks up as his eyes catch the sunlight. "Can you just let me compliment you, please?"
Ranboo smirks. "If that's your idea of a compliment, this is gonna be a rocky marriage."
Ranboo doesn't know what he meant by that, considering he'd been debating whether Tubbo was even an acquaintance mere moments before. But he's stressed enough to make any jokes he can think of, and when Tubbo barks out a surprised laugh, Ranboo sees it as a win.
"So we're married, now, are we?"
Ranboo decides to roll with it. "Mhm, mhm," he nods. "When I said we weren't friends, I meant that we were hu- married, obviously. Obviously that's- that's what I meant."
Ranboo tries his best to keep the bit going, relieved for the topic change, but his stomach twists itself in a knot when he tries to say the word "husbands", so he clumsily chokes his way around it.
Tubbo doesn't seem to notice. "Did I propose to you? I can't imagine I would."
"Ouch."
"Nah, I just don't think I'd know what to say. You'd be better at it, I think. You'd be all romantic-y." Tubbo wiggles his fingers at him, snickering to himself, and Ranboo's stomach flips.
"We're married romantically?"
"Mm, dunno. Doesn't matter. I'm more interested in the ring, if I'm honest."
"24 karat diamond. Solid gold band, but I engraved my name into it."
Tubbo scrunches his nose. "That's it? Come on, Ranboo. You've gotta woo me here."
Ranboo laughs at that, a giddy sort of laugh that bubbles up from his chest before he even realizes it. "Wow, sorry for getting you the wrong hypothetical wedding ring for our fake pretend marriage."
Tubbo raises a brow, grinning. "'Fake pretend' is a double negative, Mr. Boo. Sounds like you're trying to make it real."
Ranboo scoffs playfully. "Oh, for sure. I'm already planning the honeymoon. Tommy can be the flower girl."
That gets another laugh from Tubbo, raw and jubilant, eyes squeezed shut and nose crinkled, and Ranboo can't help but feel some sort of connection to him.
He thinks it has something to do with being a teenager, just two stupid kids joking around. When Tubbo is like this, bantering back and forth without a care in the world, sly grin on his face, he looks so young. Not like a soldier or a spy or a president, but like a teenage boy. The type of kid who rips holes in his jeans completely on accident and has perpetually messy hair.
Ranboo feels like this is how they should be interacting all the time, with no threats of exile or execution or doomsday looming over them, no adults pressuring them to conform to their viewpoints.
He knows it'll be short lived - by the end of the day, Ranboo will be back home next to the people who blew up Tubbo's country, and Tubbo will bury himself in some sort of machine Ranboo has never even heard of before, frantically hiding it away any time he gets close.
Still, Ranboo thinks he'd like to do this more often.
"I'll wear a dress," Tubbo tells him, "at our wedding. And I will look hot."
Tubbo, Ranboo finally notices, has dimples when his smile reaches his eyes. Ranboo is sure he'd realized that before, and forgotten it afterwards. He considers writing it down, but decides to leave it be, because he thinks it's a wonderful thing to be able to discover again.
"If you say so," Ranboo relents. "But just so you know, my dress will be prettier than yours."