#lolz. doing this holiday exchange has launched me back into a clingyduo mood

[teethkid67]

transcript btw

Tubbo rolls his eyes, swallowing his fish and gesturing with his fork. "Dream liked to toy with him," he says, going still and silent as the shudder rolls up Tommy's shoulders just at the name. He pauses a moment, just staring, before he continues. "He'll revive him. You know how he is; all in his own head, and shit. Since you're. . ." Tubbo hesitates and waves his fork around again, meaning of course to say 'in hiding' but still too polite to call him a coward to his face, "he'll have to find another way to fill up his daily bullshit quota."

He's so casual about it that Tommy wants to be sick. But of course, this is Tubbo coping how he copes; ignore the problem until it solves itself, and if that doesn't work, throw himself at it so hard that only one can remain when all's said and done. And that's fine, he's free to do whatever he pleases, it's just that he sounds fucking insane pretending he knows anything about what Dream's up to, especially when it comes to who he plans on dragging back.

For a horrible moment the altercation at Logstead pushes up behind his teeth like a ferocious beast snarling to be set free—Tubbo would know what to do, or say, or would at least get something out of it beyond a stag-like fear—but it passes quickly, swallowed down like a wave of nausea, and that particular story remains one kept between himself and Phil.

“Okay,” Tommy says instead. Tubbo stares at him with an unreadable expression.

Tommy shrugs away from the gaze and picks at his fish. The house is dead fucking silent, because its fucking cold out and theres not any other semblance of life barring the ugly far-off slosh of the ocean.

“You don’t believe me,” Tubbo says eventually. “Or, like, you don’t agree.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it, though.”

Tommy slowly lifts his eyes from his plate. Tubbo’s gaze is intense. He almost looks angry.

“I mean, it’s fine,” Tubbo says harshly. “Like, whatever.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Tommy tries, but Tubbo just shoves back from the table, carrying his plate into the kitchen, every action with a bit more force than necessary. Tommy bites back a series of flinches.

“No—it’s fine.” Tubbo practically throws his plate into the sink and turns on the water. “We don’t have to fucking—agree on everything.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong!”

“He can come back,” Tubbo says, “Dream will bring him back—it'll be normal—”

“He won't—it won’t be, man—”

“I know you think you’re the only one who fucking knows anything,” Tubbo snarls, stalking back to the table, “but I’m the one who fucking married him, aren’t I, and I sure as shit know what Dream is like—”

“Bro—”

“—and he brought you back, didn’t he, so he’s going to bring back Ranboo and I’m not going to grieve again over someone who’s not really fucking dead!”

This time, Tommy keeps his stupid mouth shut. Tubbo, leering over his spruce wood table like he's just killed it with his bare hands, slowly sits back down.

“Tubbo,” Tommy says quietly, and Tubbo grunts at him, eyes on the table, tracing his fingers up and down his horns. “You've—you've seen him. He's… happy.”

Tubbo is silent for a long, long time. Then, without speaking, he stands up.

“Tubbo,” Tommy tries. Tubbo ignores him and steps out of the kitchen, back towards the entrance hall. He shrugs on a coat over his flannel. Pulls on a pair of mittens. “Tubbo.”

“I’m going out,” Tubbo says. “I need to—I need to work.”

“Tubbo,” Tommy says again, uselessly. Tubbo looks at him; doesn't glower, only stares, flat and resigned, and Tommy curls away from him, his resolve crumbling.

“I need to work,” Tubbo repeats. He turns away from Tommy and pulls his trapper hat over his head.

“Just…” Tommy thinks of Las Nevadas, of Wilbur and the dark expanses between here and there. “Stay safe,” he decides.

There’s a pause. “Go home.” The door slams open and shut.

Tommy doesn’t go home; he sits in the dark with his dirty dishes just long enough to feel sorry for himself. Then he sighs, wipes his face, and scrubs the plates clean.

cclingyduo hell dinner just for me . sorry the text is so smal