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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 2 years ago

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Here Comes The Sun

Billy Hargrove x AFAB! Reader

I didn't intend for the Billy one-shots I've posted so far to link up, I just really enjoyed the juxtaposition of the 'Sunshine' reader to his (let's be honest with ourselves) less than stellar personality. But evidently I'm hashing them into a series with a random timeline. Presenting the night you and Billy met.

Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, mentions of abusive parent, explicit language, sex references, under-age drinking (under 21), smoking.

_______________________________________________

Billy is wasted.

It had been his sole purpose for the evening, spurred into self-destruct mode by yet another fight with his father, face stinging with the reminder of respect and responsibility.

He knew there was a party going on, gunning his Camaro through the winding, backwater, shithole roads of Hawkins, pulling up with a skidding flair to a boarded up building called ‘Benny’s Burgers’. The steady thumping bass emanating from inside was literal music to his ears, no plan except get drunk, maybe get his dick wet and forget about his shit life for a few hours.

Beer, vodka, tequila, it was all the same, burning his throat and stomach with numbing relief. Sweat poured off of him, chain smoking until he felt light-headed, some girl was sucking on his neck but she was faceless, nameless, he didn’t care, didn’t want to know.

He did a keg-stand, the cheers and shouts around him meant nothing, he didn’t need the praise of slack-jawed hicks. He staggered and lurched outside, away from the crowds, dizzy from the kegger. Get some air Billy, you fucking pussy he snarled at himself, punching his chest.

He drops heavily to sit on the damp grass, trying to light another cigarette but the lighter keeps drifting away from where he needs it to be.

“Piece of shit.” He mumbles, throwing the zippo away, letting himself fall backwards to lay flat, chest heaving.

_______________________________________________

He doesn’t remember passing out, dazedly brought round by something, no, someone tapping his face lightly.

“Hey - you ok?” The voice is soft, gentle.

Billy opens his eyes, vision bleary and hazed around the edges, your face floats in front of him, you seem concerned.

“‘Mfine.” He slurs, blinking rapidly trying to bring everything into focus.

“You sure about that?” You ask disbelievingly, cocking an eyebrow at his current state. He somehow pushes himself up into a sitting position, you’re kneeling down next to him not seeming to mind the wet grass on your bare legs.

“Heeyy - you’re cute, name’s Billy.” Billy smiles, trying to turn on the charm, thinking about the part of the evening where he could get his dick wet.

“Y/n, and you are very drunk.” You laugh, the sound echoing off the trees.

“I’m not as d-drunk as the other people.” He gestures haphazardly to the building, which now he really looked, seemed oddly quiet and empty.

“Uh - pretty much everyone has gone home, it’s like 4am, you must have been passed out for a while.” You place a delicate hand on his knee, patting it sympathetically, a small smile playing about your lips.

“Fu-ck.” Billy hiccups, he hauls himself up on bandy legs stumbling immediately, you step forward on instinct wrapping an arm about his waist to steady him, his muscular frame heavy. “S’ why’re you still here?” He asks, not remembering seeing you at the party, because he definitely would have remembered you.

“My friend called me to pick her up.” You sigh, pointing towards your car, he can see a blonde girl slumped in the rear passenger seat. “Can I give you a ride home?” You offer gently.

Billy shakes his head, the momentum throwing him into a dizzy lurch again, you press your other hand to his chest bracing him securely.

“No - I can’t go home.” He mumbles

“Well I’m certainly not letting you drive anywhere.” You insist, steering him towards your vehicle.

“My dad’ll kill me.” He sighs with a mirthless laugh, ignoring the sudden burn in his eyes and the hiss of ‘fucking cry-baby’ in his head.

You chuckle, helping him to perch on the bonnet of your car, hands hovering in case he slips.

“You’re just a little drunk I'm sure your dad wo-”

“No - no you don’t understand - he’ll k-kill me.” Billy says seriously, but the words still sound a little mashed together, he notices your concerned frown again and it makes his heart feel tight.

“Ok not home, but I’m not leaving you out here by yourself either.” You say firmly, hands on your hips, foot tapping against the gravel of the parking lot. “You gonna murder me in my sleep if I take you home with me?” You ask, eyes narrowed, finger pointing at his chest accusingly but there’s the hint of a smile playing about your pretty lips.

“Murder y-? Y/n, I don’t think I could find my dick to take a piss right now.” Billy says honestly, and you let out a bell-like laugh.

“I’m holding you to that Billy.” You warned teasingly. “Get in, I need to drop Sleeping Beauty home first.” You say nodding towards your friend who is snoring heavily, face smushed up against the rear window.

_______________________________________________

Billy drifts in and out of a doze as you drive, the window rolled down just in case, cold night air feeling nice on his hot face, you were singing along under your breath to some tape but he wasn’t really registering the words, maybe something about an octopus or some shit.

“Billy, I’m gonna take Cassidy inside ok?” You say gently, tapping him on the shoulder, jerking him back to the present, he nods sleepily, sinking further into the seat. Despite his drunken state, he still watches you carefully as you half carry your wasted friend up the steps and into her house, he probably should have gone to help but he definitely would be more of a hindrance in his condition.

He jolts at the sound of the car door opening, and the engine starting, having drifted off again.

“She ‘k?” He asks, rubbing at his eyes.

“Who? Cass? Yeah she’ll be fine, apart from the hangover.” You laugh. “We’ll be home in like ten minutes, I live just a little off of Brantford, you?”

“Cherry.”

You both lapse into a comfortable silence, Billy is close to nodding off again when the volume of music increases slightly, rousing him once more.

“Sorry,” You say, smiling sheepishly, withdrawing your hand from the dial “it’s my favourite.”

‘-Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold lonely winter

Little darlin’, it feels like years since it’s been here -’

Something stirs in Billy’s sluggish memory as you carry on singing softly, it’s The Beatles, the tape you’re listening to, he knows that now but there’s something else.

“Mom -.” He breathes, the word escaping his mouth before he can stop it, you glance at him curiously as he sits up straighter cranking the volume up again to listen properly.

‘-Little darlin’, it seems like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun

Here come the sun-’

“- and I say, it’s alright…” You both finish off the lyric together, Billy blinking hard, willing the tears away.

“Wouldn’t have you pegged as a Beatles fan.” You say gently.

“This was my mom’s favourite song - I’d forgotten.” Billy says roughly, sniffing hard, memories of distant sunlit days, the sound of her shimmering laughter and the cresting of the ocean against the sandy shore crashing down over him like he was caught in a swell.

“Where is she? Your Mom?” You ask cautiously.

“Away from all the shit.” Billy says simply, effectively ending the conversation.

“You want me to turn it off?” You reach for the dial, but Billy catches your hand.

“Leave it on - please.” The please is whispered, the word moving unfamiliarly in his mouth, you give a small nod, neither of you dropping the hand of the other.

You pull in front of a modest house, not unlike his own as the song comes to a close, shutting off the engine, sending him a slightly nervous smile.

“Still good on the not murdering me front?” You ask, and he laughs, feeling a little bereft when you drop his hand to get out of the car.

“Scouts honour.” He hums, following you up the path on slightly steadier feet.

“I highly doubt that you were ever in the scouts.” You laugh.

“Looks can be deceiving sunshine.”

He notices the way you flush slightly and how your fingers fumble with your key in the lock, in response to the nickname, and decides he likes it a lot.

“My parents are pretty heavy sleepers, we just need to be careful on the stairs, they creak a bit” You whisper, toeing off your sneakers, taking Billy’s hand once more and leading him up the stairs, both of you stifling giggles when the tenth step groans and the snores of presumably your father kick up a notch.

You point Billy in the direction of the bathroom, and then wordlessly step into your room leaving the door open for him.

Clearly your parents have an en-suite as this obviously serves as your bathroom, soft, sweet peach like perfume hanging in the air, makeup littering the counter, he chuckles at the Aquanet perched on the sink. Billy takes a much needed piss, sighing in relief, he notes he must like you because he’s bothered to wipe the seat across knowing his aim is still dogshit from the alcohol. Washing his hands at the sink, the unforgiving bathroom light and mirror lays it all bare, bloodshot eyes, the curls of his forehead damp with sweat, the shiner on his cheek courtesy of Neil blooming purple. He splashes cool water over his face and neck in an attempt to wash some of the clamminess away, jumping slightly at the soft knock on the door. You’re on the other side when he opens it, in an oversized Mickey Mouse nightie that rests just above your knees, you look fucking adorable and he feels his heart tighten again.

“Hi, I just wanna brush my teeth.” You say softly.

“Uh - sure, yeah - go ahead.” He murmurs, skin feeling electrified when your arms brush as you move past.

“I won’t be long, make yourself comfortable.” You whisper.

Your room is softly lit by a small pink shaded lamp, the walls a lilac with green ivy leaves around the border, they almost look hand painted and Billy wonders if you did it yourself. He takes in the general clutter with a smile, a battered but very loved looking Snoopy stuffie sat on a wicker basket chair, polaroid photos of you and your friends over the years stuck to the wall above your bed in the shape of a heart.

“You could have got in the bed you know, can’t sleep standing up, well, unless you’re a Zebra.” Your voice cuts through the silence, carefully closing the door, smiling softly at Billy.

“I didn’t know which side you preferred.” He says awkwardly, internally wondering when he became a fourteen year old boy again.

You breeze past unbothered, settling on the left side, pulling the comforter down for him on the right. This is weird right? Sharing a bed with a literal stranger, not that he’s never done that before, but this feels different, intimate.

“I can take the floor you know, you don’t have to -”

“Billy, would you just get in please, so we can go to sleep.” You press, turning the light off with one last expectant glance in his direction. Billy takes his jeans off as they’re still damp from the wet grass, before sliding under the covers, body taut and on alert keeping himself to the furthest edge of the bed.

“Do I smell?” You ask quietly but he can tell you’re teasing, he feels you shift onto your side so you’re facing him. “Billy, I know we only met like an hour ago, but if you ever need a place to stay - away from the shit - you only need to ask.” Voice completely sincere.

He rolls over to face you in the dark, hand searching for yours in unspoken thanks, he expects you to pull away but you only return his grip, thumb tracing along his own.

“Goodnight Billy.” You whisper.

“Goodnight sunshine.”

#stranger things #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x afab reader #billy hargrove x female reader

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1wn8ure · 1 year ago

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i don't wanna get over you (i wanna sit with you in bed)

"Twenty wives," Tubbo says, staring at Ranboo with something unreadable in his eyes.

"He's gonna make fun of me, y'know," Tubbo continues, leaning forward enough that Ranboo can smell the alcohol on his breath. "I don't even have one wife."

"Yeah?" they whisper back, forcing their voice to maintain its lighthearted tone. "Not sure that's much of a secret."

"Maybe not." Tubbo narrows his eyes, reaching out and placing a hand on Ranboo's chest. "Maybe I don't want a wife." ------- Or, my interpretation of c!Beeduo's first kiss for @b1rdza's MTIYS!

This fic is about Minecraft roleplay characters, not real-life content creators. I interpret c!Beeduo as a romantic relationship, but other interpretations are welcome! Just know they are romantically gay and in love in this piece <3

CW: Implied alcohol abuse, drunkenness

Full fic under the cut!

Tubbo_ whispers to you: r u awake Tubbo_ whispers to you: rabooo Tubbo_ whispers to you: raboob Tubbo_ whispers to you: boob man Tubbo_ whispers to you: ha

You whisper to Tubbo_: Tubbo? You whisper to Tubbo_: It’s 3 in the morning

Tubbo_ whispers to you: yayyyy Tubbo_ whispers to you: hey minuyes mman

You whisper to Tubbo_: What are you doing up? You whisper to Tubbo_: Tubbo? You whisper to Tubbo_: Are you okay?

Tubbo_ whispers to you: mfinee Tubbo_ whispers to you: just ppeacgy

You whisper to Tubbo_: Oh You whisper to Tubbo_: …are you drunk?

Tubbo_ whispers to you: mabe a litttle Tubbo_ whispers to you: raboo Tubbo_ whispers to you: u lookk like th mooon Tubbo_ shared coordinates Tubbo_ whispers to you: ooops

You whisper to Tubbo_: Oh jeez, that’s farther than usual. You whisper to Tubbo_: …do you want me to help you get home?

Tubbo_ whispers to you: no Tubbo_ whispers to you: waitt Tubbo_ whispers to you: yy

You whisper to Tubbo_: ?

Tubbo_ whispers to you: yess Tubbo_ whispers to you: comee find mme minutw man

You whisper to Tubbo_: Okay, I’ll be there soon.

Tubbo_ whispers to you: hury Tubbo_ whispers to you: i wannaa do smthn Tubbo_ whispers to you: that imma regrett

You whisper to Tubbo_: …how about you wait until I’m there, okay? You whisper to Tubbo_: Be safe, Tubbo.

Tubbo_ whispers to you: mm Tubbo_ whispers to you: sure Tubbo_ whispers to you: wtvrr u say mminute man ----- Tubbo is going to feel like hell when he wakes up.

That's Ranboo's first thought when he finally spots the president, lying on his back at the edge of the docks. His oversized suit jacket is draped over a fence nearby, his shoes left in a heap next to it. Carefully picking his way across the weathered spruce planks, Ranboo approaches him slowly, freezing when beautiful blue eyes flick over to him and spark with recognition. Tubbo immediately starts pushing himself up, staggering to his feet.

"Ra'booo," he croons, stumbling towards them. Ranboo lurches forward as Tubbo sways, placing their hands on Tubbo's shoulders to steady him before he takes a dive into the crashing waves below.

"Woah, woah, okay," Ranboo says, tugging Tubbo further from the edge. "Let's back up a bit, yeah?"

Tubbo follows without complaint, scooting a couple blocks toward the center of the pier before flopping back down, very nearly yanking Ranboo down with him. As it is, they just barely manage to catch themselves before they crash into the wood. Tubbo stares up at them, his head lolling to the side.

"Sit down with me," Tubbo begs, sticking out his lower lip in a pout. Ranboo sighs, shrugging off his suit jacket and laying it out before taking a seat next to the president.

"Man, you're really out of it, huh?" he muses, eying the gently swaying boy next to him warily. Tubbo merely shrugs, tipping his head backward and staring up at the stars.

"Have I told you that you look like the moon?" he asks. Ranboo breathes a laugh.

"Only about ten minutes ago," they reply. "But not before tonight."

Tubbo hums in response, squinting up at the aforementioned celestial body. He jabs a finger toward it, and Ranboo looks up to see a near-perfect half moon shimmering down on them.

"Creative," Ranboo teases, nudging Tubbo's side. Tubbo turns to him, sticking his tongue out.

"You're a dick," he retorts, and Ranboo gasps in mock offense.

"Rude!" they exclaim, moving as if they were going to stand up. "And to think, I came all the way out here to find you..."

"Nooooo!" Tubbo giggles, grabbing Ranboo's hand and tugging him back. "Don't leave me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Ranboo chuckles as he complies, shaking his head ruefully. "How can I say no to that?"

Tubbo flops onto his back, still staring at Ranboo. "Exactly," he mumbles, squinting up at them. He studies them in silence for several moments, and Ranboo notes with a warm pleasure that, even drunk, Tubbo remembers to stare at his forehead, not his eyes.

"You're tall," he finally remarks, and Ranboo laughs.

"You're short," he jabs back, already settling into the familiar bickering.

"Take that back!"

"Why? It's tru-"

Ranboo's cut off as Tubbo's hand shoots out and wraps around his arm, yanking hard. He falls backward onto the spruce with a soft oomph, and Tubbo takes advantage of his moment of surprise to roll over, lying horizontally across Ranboo's torso and pinning him to the ground.

"Take it back," he sing-songs, his elbow digging into Ranboo's gut.

"Alright, alright-" Ranboo wheezes. He tries to push Tubbo off of him, but that only earns him a knee to the side. "Okay- You're not short! You're not short!"

Tubbo narrows his eyes at Ranboo, kneeing them one more time before he relents and rolls off. Ranboo gasps for air, just a little more dramatically than necessary. It earns him an affectionate eye-roll from Tubbo, who simply giggles at Ranboo's distress. Prime, his laugh, he’s beautiful-

"You're fineeee," he says, redirecting his attention up at the stars once more. Silence settles over them, and Ranboo watches Tubbo trace the constellations with his eyes, his face falling.

"Hey," Ranboo murmurs, nudging his shoulder. "Was there- um, a reason you're out here? Just- just because, or...?"

Tubbo doesn't answer immediately, but the little furrow that forms in his brow lets Ranboo know that he'd definitely heard their question. They're about to let it go, already regretting prying into Tubbo's personal life, but then they notice that Tubbo's withdrawn something from his pocket and is clenching it tightly in one hand.

Shimmering enchanted metal catches the moonlight, and Ranboo's heart twists.

"Oh," he whispers, and Tubbo squeezes his eyes shut.

Ranboo's willing to let that be the end of it, knowing how much Tubbo loathes seeming vulnerable. Not that Ranboo doesn't want to know- of course they do, it's so rare that Tubbo actually lets them know what he's dealing with, and they'd give anything to be able to lift some of the weight from his over-burdened shoulders- but Tubbo's not exactly in the best state of mind to be answering questions, and Ranboo would feel awful if they pushed him to admit something while inebriated he wouldn't have dared reveal sober.

Tubbo, however, seems to have other plans, pulling the compass up to his chest and looking over at Ranboo with something close to desperation in his expression.

"He's okay, right?" Tubbo wavers, tears gathering in his eyes. "He- he's okay. Right?"

"He's Tommy," Ranboo says as a way of an answer, inching just close enough to Tubbo that their shoulders touch. "I'm more worried about the land he's living on. There's only so many cobblestone towers a world can take."

Tubbo laughs wetly, shaking his head. "He- he's probably- probably telling all the animals about hi- his wives."

"Oh, for sure. How many does he have again? Twelve?"

Tubbo snorts, turning on his side to face Ranboo. His eyes still glisten, but the creases in his forehead have smoothed out and the compass has disappeared back into his pocket. "Think it- it was twenty last count."

Ranboo quirks a brow, mirroring Tubbo's position. "Wha- twenty? Jeez, that's a lot of wives."

Tubbo hums, tilting his head. A pensive look comes over his face, and Ranboo waits amusedly for him to puzzle out whatever's on his mind. They know that look, he’s thinking hard about something, it’s beautiful-

He takes the pause in conversation to check the time, groaning internally as he remembers they both have a cabinet meeting to attend early the next morning. Tubbo really should be getting home- it's late, and he's going to need all the sleep he can get. He should suggest that, soon. Just... not yet. It's been so long since they've been able to hang out like this, sue him if he wants it to last a little longer.

Eventually, Tubbo nods- a single, sharp motion that's swiftly followed by a wince and a soft groan.

"Head hurt?" Ranboo asks sympathetically.

"Twenty wives," Tubbo says, staring at Ranboo with something unreadable in his eyes. Ranboo hums noncommittally, waiting for Tubbo to elaborate on his newest train of thought.

"He's gonna make fun of me, y'know," Tubbo continues, and Ranboo raises his eyebrows.

"What for?" he asks, and Tubbo leans forward enough that Ranboo can smell the alcohol on his breath. They inhale sharply at the sudden closeness, entirely unsure of the direction the conversation is headed. His cheeks are so pink, he’s beautiful- Tubbo doesn't waver, face set in determination.

"Imma tell you a secret," he whispers, his voice just barely audible over the pounding of Ranboo's heart in his ears. "I don't even have one wife."

"Yeah?" they whisper back, forcing their voice to maintain its lighthearted tone. "Not sure that's much of a secret."

"Maybe not." Tubbo narrows his eyes, reaching out and placing a hand on Ranboo's chest. Immediately, warmth floods over their cheeks, and they stare with wide eyes as Tubbo tilts his head upward. "Maybe I don't want a wife."

"T-Tubbo," they stammer, wrapping a hand around his wrist. "What-"

"Kiss me," Tubbo interrupts, and Ranboo's breath seizes in his chest. Tubbo's hand twists in the front of their shirt, pressing hard into their chest. "Please, Ranboo," he begs, eyes wild and hair wilder, and Prime, he’s beautiful-

Instinctively, Ranboo tugs Tubbo's hand away, missing its presence as soon as its gone. They stare at each other, both in equal shock, before Tubbo's face crumples and he pulls back, staggering to his feet.

"Fuck," he whispers, stumbling backward several steps as he presses his palms into his eyes. His breathing quickens, and Ranboo's heart drops into his stomach as he starts to whimper quietly. "Fuck- shit-"

"Hey, wait-" Ranboo scrambles after him, gently grabbing his wrists and trying to pull them away from his face. He resists, and they chirp in distress. "Can you look at me? Please?"

Tubbo shakes his head, hiccupping sobs ripping through his chest. They give up on trying to move his hands, instead hooking their thumbs in their sleeves and wiping away the tears that are streaming down his face.

"Tubbo," they murmur, cupping his cheeks in their hands. "Look I- I'm not upset, okay?"

Tubbo melts into the contact, and his hands fall to his side though his eyes remain clenched tightly shut. He doesn't respond, but his sobs do seem to quiet somewhat, and Ranboo takes that as a sign that he's listening.

"I was just surprised," they soothe, thumbs swiping the space beneath Tubbo's eyes. "But it wasn't… wasn't bad."

Their face warms, and their throat feels tight as they force themselves to continue, months worth of buried thoughts springing to the surface all at once. "I think... I think I might like that."

Tubbo's eyes open, then, and he stares up at them with blatant hope in his eyes. "So you'll- you'll do it?" he pleads, practically falling forward onto Ranboo in his earnestness.

They hesitate, knowing all-too-well that they could never say yes. Not right now. Tubbo's too far gone right now. A step like that is… maybe not the best one to take when one party is severely inebriated and lacking in critical decision making skills.

"Later," Ranboo promises, and Tubbo's face falls. Ranboo hurries to explain, sensing the onset of another bout of sobs. "Tubbo, you're- you're drunk, right now. And I think you'd rather be sober, for that."

Tubbo grumbles discontentedly, looking down and pressing the crown of his head into Ranboo's chest. "Whyyyy," he whines, petulant and frustrated. Ranboo chuckles softly, wrapping his arms around the pouting president. Tubbo relaxes into the embrace, so much so that Ranboo suddenly finds himself supporting a decent percentage of the smaller boy's weight.

"You have to get home," Ranboo murmurs, rubbing circles into Tubbo’s back. After a moment, they add: “…and I need to know that you’re sure. That you want that, I mean.”

“I am sure,” Tubbo grumbles, clutching the back of Ranboo’s shirt. He’s getting heavier by the second, growing more and more content to let Ranboo support him rather than lift his own weight.

“You’re drunk,” Ranboo repeats, hesitating only briefly before lifting one hand to the back of Tubbo’s head and carding through his soft brown hair. “That doesn’t exactly count.”

Tubbo doesn’t respond, and momentarily Ranboo worries that he’d fallen asleep standing up, but then the hands pressing into his shirt move up to wrap around the back of his neck. “Ranboo, ‘m tired.”

“Tubbo, no kidding,” Ranboo teases, poking Tubbo’s side. “Are you gonna make me carry you all the way home?”

“M’ybe,” Tubbo slurs, and Ranboo sighs before bending down and sweeping the sleepy president up into a bridal carry. Tubbo giggles, staring at Ranboo with heavy lids and glazed eyes.

“So strong,” he says, and Ranboo huffs good-naturedly.

“Yeah, yeah,” they hum, rolling their eyes. “Funny how you only say that when I’m your only way home.”

That earns another fit of giggles from Tubbo, and Ranboo grins before tucking the president close to their chest. They start to walk, trying to keep their passenger as steady as possible considering his affinity for drunken motion-sickness. Some mistakes, you only make once.

“Boo?” Tubbo murmurs, and Ranboo’s heart flutters at the nickname.

“Yes, Bo?” he responds.

Tubbo smiles wide, his head lolling to the side. “I like when you say my name.”

Ranboo nearly stumbles over their own feet, ears growing warm. “Oh yeah, Tubbo?”

Tubbo preens with contentment, nestling into Ranboo’s chest. “Again,” he begs, eyes sliding shut.

“Tubbo,” Ranboo croons, tail coming up to wrap around the president’s ankle. “Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo.”

Tubbo sighs, cheeks colored bright pink. He murmurs something unintelligible, voice muffled into Ranboo’s shirt.

“Hm?” Ranboo asks, tapping Tubbo’s leg. “Too sleepy for words, are we?”

Tubbo moves his face away from Ranboo's chest, turning to look up at him. “Kiss me?” he asks again, and Ranboo nearly drops him.

“Tubbo,” they admonish gently, and Tubbo sticks out his bottom lip, giving them the most dramatic puppy-dog eyes they’ve ever seen. Ranboo has to look away, which only makes Tubbo whine louder. He starts to wriggle in their grasp, the hands around their neck doing their best to pull his head downward.

“I’ll drop you,” they warn, and Tubbo falls still with a huff. The pout doesn’t disappear, only growing in intensity. Thankfully, Tubbo’s home appears on the horizon, and Ranboo shifts him to one side so they can grab their spare key. They shoulder the door open, heading straight to Tubbo’s bedroom.

When they try to set him down in his bed, Tubbo clings onto their neck with an iron grip, stubbornness still furrowing his brow. Ranboo rolls his eyes affectionately, leaning over so that Tubbo’s back rests on the bed.

“You’re gonna have to let me go, Bo,” Ranboo says, cupping Tubbo’s cheek in one hand and bracing himself up with the other.

“I don’ wanna,” Tubbo mumbles, pressing his face into Ranboo’s hand. Ranboo can tell that he’s fighting sleep, eyes sliding shut periodically only for him to wrench them back open. “You’re gonna leave.”

“You need to sleep this off.” Gently, Ranboo reaches up and pries Tubbo’s fingers open, loosening his grip. They slip their neck out of Tubbo’s grasp, and the president’s arms fall onto the bed as if made of lead. The resulting grumble is entirely incoherent, Tubbo’s discontented words slurred by exhaustion and drink combined.

With a sigh, Ranboo stands, glancing back and forth from the door to Tubbo. The president is going to fall asleep any moment now. Ranboo could try and convince him to change into something more comfortable, but they're not sure Tubbo would let them out of the room long enough for that to happen. He’s out of his jacket, at least, and that’s something.

Oh, crap. His jacket.

Ranboo sucks in a breath as the mental image of Tubbo’s suit jacket, abandoned at the docks next to his shoes, pops into their head. They’ve spoken to Tubbo enough to know that he only owns the one, and he can’t exactly show up to a cabinet meeting half-dressed.

Well, he could. Ranboo’s sure nobody would blame Tubbo for not being dressed to the nines every day of the week. But Tubbo would feel awful, and that’s one self-deprecating spiral Ranboo would like to avoid if possible.

Tubbo, oblivious to Ranboo’s newfound distress, rolls over onto his stomach, arms spread out to either side of him. He mumbles something into his pillow, and Ranboo stirs from his train of thought.

“What was that?” Ranboo asks, mind still racing as he tries to find a solution to the predicament he’d discovered.

“‘m hot,” Tubbo whines, and Ranboo absent-mindedly places a hand on the back of his neck, knowing that their natural body temperature would feel cool against Tubbo’s skin. Tubbo hums in contentment, and Ranboo freezes as they realize what exactly they’d just done.

It’d felt so natural, like it was something they’d done a million times before. Ranboo knows it’s not, knows that tonight is the most physically affectionate the two of them had been… ever. But Tubbo’s certainly not complaining, and it’s not like they mind the casual touch either.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? Prime, how many times had they stopped themself from doing something similar in the past? From reaching out and grabbing Tubbo’s hand as they walk, from trailing their fingers across his shoulders as they pass each other in a hallway, from carding through his hair as they’ve carried him home many, many nights before?

Ranboo had stopped themself, because the president had never shown any sign of reciprocation. They’d grown used to the tender ache that rested just beneath their skin, the flames that roared throughout their chest when they heard him laugh. They had been determined to learn to live with that gentle pain, knowing that to lose him would be so much worse. And they’d fumbled at the beginning, but they’d gotten so good at ignoring the traitorous thoughts, at being a good minutes man and a better friend and that’s all.

But tonight…

Tubbo’s breathing slows as his limbs relax, his lips settling into a satisfied smile.

Kiss me. Please, Ranboo.

He’s drunk. He’s drunk and he might not have meant it but he might have, he might want this too, Prime you hope-

Nope. No. Not thinking that. Not yet.

Ranboo waits, still as a statue, until Tubbo’s breathing finds a steady rhythm before carefully pulling his hand back, holding it close to his chest. He waits a couple more moments to ensure the president doesn’t wake, then edges toward the door, slipping silently out into the hallway. They speed-walk toward the front door, stepping across the threshold and easing the door closed behind them.

Only once they hear the latch click into place do they release their held breath, leaning their head against the wood and running their fingers over the palm that still burns with residual warmth. They can’t seem to stop tracing circles over the area, even after the night’s chill has stolen any heat that might’ve remained.

The jacket, they remind themself eventually, shoving all of the thoughts that are buzzing around the front of their mind into the metaphorical chest they’d been locked in for months prior. They don’t seem to fit quite right anymore, but he refuses to acknowledge the few that escape through the cracks in the lid.

Keeping their eyes firmly trained on the ground below them, they make their way back to the dock, doing their best not to think of anything but the jacket and the shoes.

Their best has never been that great, especially not when it comes to controlling their own mind.

Eventually, they reach their destination, and they grab Tubbo’s jacket in one hand and his shoes in the other. Spotting their own coat lying on the rocks nearby, they sling Tubbo’s over their shoulder and pick it up as well. They take a moment before making their return trip, still undecided on what they’re going to do once they arrive.

Because the thing is, Tubbo will not make the cabinet meeting without help in the morning. Ranboo knows this. And while he could call Quackity for help, or Fundy, even, Tubbo might not want the rest of the cabinet to know that their president had spent the past night drunk out of his mind.

In the past, Ranboo would just walk over in the morning and wake Tubbo up with a bottle of water and a regen potion. But this is the most inebriated they’ve seen Tubbo in a while, and something in their mind rebels at the thought of leaving him alone when he’s so entirely incapacitated. “What-ifs” buzz around their head at breakneck speed, each new scenario making them mentally recoil even more than the last.

Reluctantly, they come to the realization that they’re not going to be able to leave Tubbo’s house tonight. Part of them worries about the invasion of privacy, really doesn’t want to make Tubbo angry when he realizes that they’d stayed over without his explicit consent, but the larger portion knows that Tubbo would rather get his teeth kicked out of his head than appear incompetent by missing a cabinet meeting. Surely, he’ll understand once they explain themselves.

Growing more confident in their decision by the second, Ranboo begins their trek back to Tubbo’s home, both jackets slung over their shoulder. They’ll keep watch at night, just to make sure that Tubbo’s alright, and in the morning they’ll give him one of the potions they keep on them at all times and make sure he’s hydrated and fed.

They’ll go to the cabinet meeting, and then…

They don’t exactly know what happens next. The lid of the metaphysical chest rattles, hopeful thoughts aching to be set loose, but they resolutely shove them down.

Chances are, Tubbo won’t even remember what happened tonight. But Ranboo… Ranboo’s going to remind him. They already know they couldn’t live with themself if they didn’t at least try, after tonight. And if it was nothing but drunken ramblings, then they’ll both laugh it off, and Ranboo will pretend it doesn’t hurt, and they’ll go back to being friends.

And if it was real…

Kiss me. Please, Ranboo.

The half-moon shines overhead, illuminating the cloud of steam that rises from Ranboo’s mouth as he whispers an inaudible Okay. ———— Tubbo feels like absolute shit.

His eyes are slammed closed almost as soon as they’re opened, the dim light of his room sending a pickaxe crashing through the center of his forehead. He groans instinctively, and then immediately clenches his lips shut as his stomach roils, his entire body protesting consciousness with a vengeance.

“Yeah, I bet,” a voice murmurs from across the room, and Tubbo bolts upright only to immediately clasp one hand over his mouth and the other over his eyes. He waits for his head to stop spinning somewhat before tentatively peeking through his fingers, squinting blearily at the blurry blob of black and white sitting in his bedroom.

Slowly, the world comes into definition, and Tubbo can make out the vague shape of Ranboo sitting in a small wooden chair, legs crossed and a book set down on their lap. Tentatively, he lowers his hand from his mouth, his brow furrowing as his brain tries to catch up to the situation.

Ranboo stands, walking over to Tubbo’s nightstand. He hears the sound of pouring liquid, and then a smooth glass is being held out to him, filled with room-temperature water. Tubbo accepts it, taking a small sip as his mind continues to process.

“Wha-” he starts to ask, but he’s cut off as Ranboo shoves another container toward him.

“Potion first,” Ranboo insists, wiggling the bright pink bottle toward Tubbo. Tubbo winces, wanting to protest the waste of resources, but Ranboo’s face leaves no room for debate.

With a grimace, Tubbo accepts and uncorks the potion, suppressing a gag at the sickly sweet taste of regeneration. He drinks about a quarter of the bottle before his stomach starts to object, and he pauses to give it a moment to kick in. Ranboo seems satisfied, moving back to the chair and marking their page before closing their book, snapping it shut with a clap that makes Tubbo flinch as his head pounds with renewed vigor.

“Oww,” he groans, glaring daggers at his minutes man. “Dick.”

“Yup!” Ranboo chirps, far too chipper and smug for so early in the morning. “Come on, Mr. President. Cabinet meeting in thirty.”

“Fuck,” Tubbo curses, rubbing his eyes groggily. He chances another sip of regen, his nausea already quelled by the first few sips. It’s a good brew, he notes in mild surprise, quick-acting and effective. He’s already starting to feel like he might be able to function enough to get through the day, and the fog is clearing slowly from his head.

Thank Prime Ranboo was here, or Tubbo would not have made it to that cabinet meeting.

…

Wait.

“Why are you here?” Tubbo asks, thoroughly confused. He hadn’t had anyone over the night before, had he?

No, wait, he’d gone out to the docks, hadn’t he? Then how…

Ranboo’s face is sympathetic as he watches Tubbo puzzle through the sequence of events, something flashing in his eyes that Tubbo is much too preoccupied to sort through, but would probably interest him otherwise. Right now, though, Tubbo is trying to discern how he got from piss-drunk out on the docks to waking up hungover in his own bed, with a stupid-kind and overly-helpful enderman sitting-

Oh.

Shit.

Tubbo’s eyes widen as his gaze moves to Ranboo, who waves sheepishly at him. Vague memories drift through Tubbo’s mind, and he whips out his communicator, already dreading what he’ll find.

He holds his breath while scanning the messages they’d exchanged last night, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds nothing particularly incriminating left in print. Okay. Okay, this is fine, Ranboo just helped him get home. That’s it, that’s fine, and then they stayed the night because they’re a good person and a good friend.

Ignoring the last lingering effects of nausea, Tubbo downs the rest of the potion, setting the empty bottle down on the nightstand and placing the full glass next to it. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and goes to stand, despite every muscle in his body aching in protest. Ranboo moves forward to steady him, placing their hands on Tubbo’s shoulders. Tubbo looks up in surprise, jerking away.

“Oh-” Ranboo blanches, tucking his hands behind his back. “I- sorry, I just-”

“No no,” Tubbo blurts, “S’fine, just- didn’t expect, y’know-”

“Yeah, no, right.” Ranboo nods, eyes darting around the room nervously. They stand there in silence for an awkward amount of time, Tubbo eventually clearing his throat and motioning toward his suit jacket hanging on the other side of the room.

“Uh- meeting, and all, we should probably-”

“Yes! Yeah. Meeting. For sure.”

Tubbo moves past Ranboo, taking extra care not to brush against his shoulder. He picks up his jacket and slings it over his shoulder, realizing for the first time that he’d slept in his slacks and button-up. He smooths the wrinkles in his pants as best he can while sliding on his shoes, toes pinching uncomfortably in the too-small loafers.

There’s a small shuffle as Ranboo moves past him out of the room, and Tubbo watches as they retreat down the small hallway, tail flicking nervously behind them. Prime-fucking-damnit, that’s endearing.

Tubbo exhales through his teeth, rolling out his neck. Subconsciously, a hand drifts up to rest on his shoulder, where he can still feel the faint imprint of Ranboo’s hand. As soon as his fingers touch the fabric of his shirt, his brain catches up with his body, and he jerks his hand away.

He has got to get a hold of himself. If Tubbo’s not careful, he’s going to slip, and he’s got enough on his plate without potentially ruining the first new friendship he’s made in ages.

It’d taken him a while to get it, at first. It was all-too-easy to blame his racing heart on the stress of his position, simple to attribute the light-headedness to exhaustion. But then, Ranboo had brought him dinner a couple nights ago, standing in his office and refusing to leave until he’d cleaned his plate. It was nothing, really, just the brush of fingers as a dish was passed from hand to hand, or maybe the candlelight flickering across dual-toned features, or the way he laughed at all of Tubbo’s stupid jokes.

Tubbo had closed the door with a wave and a smile, heart dropping into his stomach as he watched the minutes man leave and realized that he wanted nothing more than for him to stay.

Ranboo is his friend, Tubbo reminds himself, and that is good and miraculous and absolutely, totally, completely fine.

He just needs the part of his mind that disagrees to Shut. The Fuck. Up.

“Tubbo?” Ranboo calls from the front of the house, and Tubbo is snapped out of his reverie.

“Coming, bossman,” he responds, giving himself one last stern reprimand before heading down the hall, presidential smile already pasted on his face. He’s about to walk straight out the door, expecting Ranboo to be waiting outside, but he’s stopped by the sound of movement on his right. Looking over at his paltry excuse for a kitchenette, Tubbo balks as he spots Ranboo rifling through his cabinets, hustling and bustling around the different appliances as he prepares some sort of dish.

Tubbo doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Ranboo turns around, their ears turning dark purple as they extend a plate toward him.

“Um- Apparently breakfast helps. With, y’know- hangovers?” Ranboo’s tail whips wildly behind them as Tubbo wordlessly accepts the plate, too stunned to tell Ranboo the potion had done the trick already. Not that he would’ve, anyway.

“You cook?” Tubbo blurts out eventually, regretting his decision only briefly before Ranboo’s tail stills and the nervousness of their posture fades.

“I’ve brought you like, fifteen meals by now,” Ranboo says, raising an eyebrow bemusedly. “Do you think they just appear out of thin air?”

This time, it’s Tubbo’s turn to blush, cheeks reddening in indignation. “I didn’t know!” he protests, shifting his gaze to the food. All those dinners take on new significance as he thinks about how long Ranboo must have spent preparing each one. He stares at the eggs and toast on his plate with a sort of awe, grabbing the fork that is offered to him and shoveling a bite into his mouth.

As always, it’s absolutely heavenly, and he hears Ranboo chuckle as he closes his eyes in contentment.

“That good?” Ranboo asks, and Tubbo laments that both of his hands are too busy to flip them off. He tells Ranboo as much, mouth still full of scrambled eggs. The way Ranboo’s nose wrinkles as he laughs makes Tubbo have to take another heaping bite of eggs to keep himself from making a comment he’d regret.

“Can you eat and walk?” Ranboo asks, checking the time on his communicator. “I know you like to be early.”

Tubbo nods, still not quite trusting himself to speak. He follows as Ranboo heads for the door, hoping desperately that the warmth that spreads across his cheeks as Ranboo holds it open for him isn’t as obvious as it feels.

My hands are full, he reminds himself, walking just fast enough that he can stay in front of Ranboo. They held the door because my hands are full and they’ve got fucking manners.

The walk to the White House is full of one-sided conversation, Tubbo using his full mouth as an excuse to answer in only nods or head shakes. If Ranboo notices the strangeness of his sudden appreciation for table manners, they don’t remark on it, content to fill the silence with their own thoughts.

“I’m like- fully convinced that Enderchest is like, super intelligent. Because there was this one time, right, where he just- I was trying to get him home, and he kept running the other way because there were like, a ton of mobs, and he didn’t want- he didn’t want to run through them.”

Tubbo responds with a wordless hum, trying very hard to simultaneously focus on Ranboo’s words and silence the thoughts that make themselves known every time he speaks. It’s a careful balancing act of paying just enough attention to respond with the appropriate movement without getting tripped up in the fact that just hearing Ranboo’s voice makes Tubbo’s heart flutter. It’s a difficult task, and thankfully Tubbo is soon saved from his predicament by the appearance of the White House up ahead of them.

Slipping the plate back into his inventory, Tubbo makes sure that he’s the one to grab the door this time. Ranboo shoots him a grateful smile as they pass through, and fuck, there’s really no winning, is there, because that’s fucking adorable too.

He needs to get through this cabinet meeting. After that, he and Ranboo can go their separate ways for the rest of the day and Tubbo can figure out a new way to shut up his brain because clearly, willpower alone is not enough.

With a groan, Tubbo walks into the White House, letting the door slam shut behind him.

It’s gonna be a long fucking day. —— Two hours later, Tubbo sits slumped over their conference room table, rubbing his eyes wearily. The rest of the cabinet has already trickled out, Quackity storming off in a huff for the fifth time in as many days. At least the discussion had been slightly more civil today, by which Tubbo means they had waited a whole ten minutes before devolving into shouting.

Tubbo presses his palms into his eyes, willing away the headache that nearly every cabinet meeting brings. He hears footsteps re-enter the room, but he doesn’t look up.

“Meeting’s over,” he grumbles. “I’m not arguing anymore.”

“Uh, that’s- that’s good, ‘cause I don’t really like arguing all that much.”

Tubbo’s head jerks up, and he groans internally as he locks eyes with his minutes man before swiftly shifting his gaze to their chin. “Shit, sorry,” he rushes. “Thought you were Quackity.”

Ranboo simply hums in response, standing near the doorway and shifting nervously. Their eyes are darting around the room, never settling in one place, and Tubbo can see them worrying their lip as they puzzle through some sort of internal dilemma.

He can’t help the amused smile that spreads over his face as he watches. “Need something, bossman?” Tubbo asks, propping up his chin with his hand.

“I- Are you busy?” Ranboo asks, tail lashing wildly behind them. “Like, right now?”

Tubbo shrugs, thinking of the very large stack of paperwork sitting abandoned on his desk. “Not really,” he lies, because Ranboo seems like they’ve got something up their sleeve and Tubbo is… curious. That’s it. Curious.

(Enamored, smitten, infatuated. Some might say those are much better words to describe Tubbo in this moment, but Tubbo would tell them to fuck off and mind their own business.)

“Oh. That’s good, that’s- that’s good!” Ranboo sucks in a breath, rocking backward on their heels. Tubbo has to stifle a laugh at the expression on their face, which is an impressive mix of sheepish hope and absolute terror.

“That’s good, is it?” Tubbo teases, leaning forward. “Any reason?”

There is a reason, of course, Ranboo wouldn’t be this nervous for no reason, but it’s endlessly fun to watch Ranboo try and decide what they’re going to say. Eventually, though, Tubbo has mercy on his poor, anxious minutes man.

“How about we start walking, and you can tell me where we’re going on the way?” he proposes, and the tension in Ranboo’s shoulders drops.

“Yeah,” they sigh, nodding. “Yeah, that works.”

Tubbo chuckles as he scoots his chair backward, standing. “Lead the way, minutes man.”

Ranboo nods one more time before spinning on his heel and scurrying out of the room. Tubbo has to practically run to catch up, considering the speed at which Ranboo’s moving and the considerable difference in leg length.

He does catch up, though. Because Ranboo stays behind to hold the door for him. The absolute prick.

“You’re a prick,” Tubbo says as he walks though, which startles a laugh from Ranboo.

“Now- now what was that for?” they ask amusedly, shutting the door behind them as they both begin to walk across the spruce platform. Tubbo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets so he doesn’t do something stupid because it’s kind of cold outside and his fingers are chilly.

“Just reminding you,” Tubbo says, grinning. Ranboo shakes his head, rolling their eyes.

“Gee, thanks,” they say sarcastically.

“You’re welcome!”

The conversation lulls for a moment, which leaves far too much room for Tubbo’s mind to run wild. Which isn’t good. He needs to find a conversation topic that’s safe, that they can banter and giggle and be normal about.

But Ranboo is close enough that Tubbo can feel their sleeves brush against each other with every other step, and that’s really not doing good things for Tubbo’s brain. Or his filter.

“Thank you for last night,” he blurts, face going beet red as soon as he registers the words that have just spilled out of his mouth. He looks to his right, away from Ranboo, pretending to admire the same scenery he’d seen a million times before.

There’s a moment of silence before Ranboo responds. “Of- Of course. It was nothing, really.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Tubbo mumbles, shame rising suddenly from somewhere deep within him and burning his ears. “I know how I get. I shouldn’t have messaged you.”

“You can always message me,” Ranboo says, coming to a stop. Tubbo slows as well, but he still doesn’t turn to face them. “I mean- I’d rather you message me than be alone, you know?”

After a moment, they add: “And I don’t mind. Really. I’ll carry you home whenever you need me, Bo.”

Tubbo does not feel chills run down his spine, and “Bo” does not echo in his head over and over again.

He does, however, cringe as he takes in Ranboo’s words. “You carried me home?”

He looks over at Ranboo, who’s got a hand on the back of their neck. “Um… yeah, you- you couldn’t really walk, so…”

Tubbo winces, the gap in his memory making more and more sense every moment. “That bad?”

“I, um…” Ranboo folds their arms around themselves, and Tubbo does not miss how close their arms had been. “I take it you- you don’t remember, then.”

Tubbo’s heart plummets into his stomach, and his mouth suddenly feels very dry. “Remember what?” he asks, dreading the answer.

“Ah- um.” Ranboo’s nervousness seems to return tenfold, and it’s not until they step off the wooden path and onto the grass that Tubbo realizes that they’ve walked past the borders of New L’manburg and into the Greater SMP. Ranboo walks as they talk, leading them both off of the Prime Path and into a small wooded area.

“You… you said some things that made me think- which it’s fine if you don’t! That’s fine, and I can stop but- but you said something, and I thought that maybe you felt the same? But like- again, if I’m wrong then just- just forget all about this and move on, yeah?”

“Ranboo, what are you-“

Tubbo’s words die on his tongue as they step into a small clearing, the trees around them forming a near perfect circle around the meadow. There’s a picnic blanket set out in the grass, an honest-to-goodness wicker basket atop it. There are pink tulips in a crystal vase, a candle that flickers with the wind, and a blush the color of alliums on Ranboo’s face.

“What is this?” Tubbo whispers, moving forward toward the blanket. He runs his fingers over the handle of the basket, looking back to see Ranboo staring at him with something so painfully hopeful in their eyes.

“It’s… it’s a date,” they mumble, clenching their hands close to their chest. “If you- if you want it to be.”

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

“Prime, yes,” Tubbo blurts, butterflies springing to life full-force in his stomach. “Gods, I- yes. So fucking much, yes.”

Tears spring to life in Ranboo’s eyes, and for a moment Tubbo feels something close to terror and then Ranboo’s laughing in relief, scrambling forward and grabbing Tubbo’s hands. “Oh, thank Prime,” they breathe, closing their eyes and holding Tubbo’s fingers up to their cheek. “You have- you have no idea how relieving that is.”

Tubbo laughs right along with them, feeling absolutely giddy. “Gods,” he sighs, pressing his head into Ranboo’s chest. “What did I even say?”

Ranboo stiffens, then, and Tubbo looks up at him in confusion. “Ranboo?” he asks, and Ranboo drops his hand.

“What did I say?” Tubbo asks again, this time much more worried for the response.

“Well-“ Ranboo begins, then cuts themselves off. They open their eyes and sigh, and the anxiety on their face morphs into something sure and determined.

“Tell me if this is okay,” they murmur, and then Ranboo’s hands are on Tubbo’s waist and they’re leaning forward and before he even registers what’s happening Tubbo’s hands are in their hair and he’s meeting them halfway.

Their lips crash together, and it’s messy and clumsy and desperate and elated, and when they break apart the air is filled with giddy laughter. Tubbo’s knees feel weak, and Ranboo must be the same way because they practically collapse onto the picnic blanket, tugging Tubbo down with them.

The world seems like it’s spinning around them, and Tubbo feels simultaneously like he can’t get enough air in his lungs and like he’ll never need to breathe again. He rolls over to look at Ranboo only to find that they’re already looking back at him, and all it takes is one glance for them both to dissolve into giggles once more.

“Holy fuck,” Tubbo breathes, and Ranboo nods in agreement next to him.

Tubbo scoots closer, and he feels Ranboo’s arms wrap around him and pull him tight to their chest. Tubbo relaxes into their torso, listening to the rhythmic sound of their two hearts pounding in unison.

He thinks he might be dreaming, honestly, and he tells Ranboo as much.

“Well, if this is a dream then we’re both having the same one, and that’d be- that’d be pretty weird.”

Tubbo hums, snuggling into the chill of Ranboo’s body. “I can’t believe you kissed me on the first date. Desperate, much?” he teases, and Ranboo squawks in protest.

“You asked me to!” they defend, whacking the back of Tubbo’s head with their tail. “That’s what- that’s what you said. You asked me to.”

“Did I really?” Tubbo muses, and he thinks the fact might have mortified him, before, but he can’t quite find himself to feel ashamed when it led to this. “What can I say, I’m just that bold.”

“Oh, so when you do it, it’s bold, but when I do it, it’s desperate?”

“Exactly. You get it!”

“No I- I just do not, actually, at all.” Ranboo sighs, nestling their chin into the crown of Tubbo’s head. “And so what if I was desperate,” they murmur. “I’ve waited like- like months.”

“Months?” Tubbo pulls away slightly so he can look at Ranboo in shock. “Really?”

Ranboo blinks, amused smile spreading across their face. “I mean- yeah?”

Tubbo whistles lowly, shaking his head. “How the fuck did you do that? It’s been less than a week and I could hardly stand to be in the same room as you.”

“Some of us have self control, y’know,” Ranboo teases, poking Tubbo’s side.

“Oh, fuck off,” Tubbo groans, rolling out of Ranboo’s arms and onto his back. “It’s not my fault you’re so…”

Tubbo bites his tongue. Endearing, is what he was going to say, but one look at Ranboo’s face and Tubbo knows he wouldn't be living that one down any time soon. Ranboo waits with a quirked brow for Tubbo to complete his sentence, responding quip already prepared on his tongue.

“…annoying. Fucking annoying, can’t get rid of you,” Tubbo finishes, which earns him a startled laugh and smack on the shoulder in response.

“That is not what you were gonna say,” Ranboo complains.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Tubbo shrugs. “How would you know?”

“I know you,” Ranboo says, and Tubbo thinks it was supposed to be a joke but it comes out painfully genuine and fuck, it makes Tubbo want to kiss them all over again.

And something tries to stop him, something reaches out and tries to tell that thought to be quiet and stay hidden. But Ranboo is lying so close to him, and there’s a vase with his favorite flowers nearby, and Tubbo is sick of listening to that something.

“You do,” he murmurs, sitting up and placing a hand on Ranboo’s cheek.

“Kiss me?” Tubbo asks, a perfect echo of the night before, although only one of them knows it.

”Okay.”

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