Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ranboo isn't breathing.

Well, he is, but only barely. He can't afford to breathe, can't risk moving even an inch. God forbid he flutters his eyes or wrinkles his nose, lest he be faced with the most heinous consequence under the sun: Tubbo's wrath.

Tubbo's warm hand against Ranboo's cheek is a direct contrast to the unnatural chill of the grease face paint. He's been sitting still for what feels like hours, Tubbo sat on a counter to better reach his face, and his nose has been itchy for the past ten minutes.

He knows it'll be worth it in the end, though. Tubbo wouldn't let him out of the house if he weren't sufficiently spooky.

"Ranboo."

Ranboo has to resist a frown, keeping his eyes clamped shut. "I didn't even move that time-"

"The corners of your mouth did," Tubbo accuses. "You're gonna fuck it all up. It's not dry yet."

"Sor-" Ranboo starts, but Tubbo cuts him off.

"Talking makes it worse," scolds Tubbo. "Just shut up."

Tubbo says it gently, makeup brush dabbing at the corners of Ranboo's mouth with something thick and wet, so Ranboo only hums in response.

Distantly, Ranboo can hear Michael playing with his toys, trying his very best to spook them all. He's already full of energy and more than ready to go, breezing through their house in his very convincing ghost costume.

Tubbo had wanted Michael to pick something more elaborate - "less cringe", as he put it - but something about Michael draped in a sheet jumping out to shout "Boo" was enough to finally win Tubbo over.

Michael finds it very funny that he's supposed to say "Boo" to scare people. Ranboo is half convinced that Michael thinks he's the king of Halloween, but Ranboo isn't about to correct him.

(Ranboo could be the king of Halloween, if he wanted.)

"Okay," Tubbo exhales as he dabs on one last finishing touch, the movement tickling Ranboo's nose even more. Like a good husband, Ranboo resists scratching his face, not willing to risk smudging his paint.

"Done?" Asks Ranboo through gritted teeth. "Finally?"

He peeks open an eye just in time to see Tubbo nod through his bleary vision.

"Done," Tubbo announces. "Just stay still for a few minutes, and then we'll put some sealant on."

Ranboo opens his mouth, but Tubbo shoots him a look, making him melt back into his neutral expression.

"Sealant's only, like, 5% H2O. I checked, big guy, don't worry."

Ranboo offers him a nod, ignoring the weirdly crusty feeling of all of the paint on his face. He's about to ask for a mirror, but Tubbo holds one up before he has the chance.

Ranboo had been right about the discomfort being worth it. Tubbo did a pretty solid job - the stitches are all realistic, sewn down the split in the middle of his face like he'd been created in a laboratory. Ranboo's skin has a sickly green wash, just enough of a tint to look real, and his eyes are sunken and bloodshot.

Tubbo grins at him from underneath his safety goggles. "Do you look badass, or what?"

"Or what," Ranboo just barely mumbles, groaning through clenched teeth when Tubbo kicks at his shin.

"Shut the fuck up, dude," Tubbo chuckles. "You look awesome."

Ranboo does look awesome, but so does Tubbo. Tubbo's hair is sprayed black and white, teased up with hairspray like he's been electrocuted. (At least, Ranboo hopes that's how Tubbo'd achieved the effect.) He has just enough makeup on to make him look more unsettling, dark rings around his eyes and cold, dead lips. Tubbo's lab coat is soaked with blood, though Ranboo isn't entirely sure if it's all fake.

"We look awesome," Ranboo corrects, though he does stumble in his boots when he stands.

"Careful," Tubbo teases. "How come someone as tall as you can't walk in platforms?"

"How come someone as tall as you can't walk in platforms?" Ranboo mocks in a nasally voice, but Michael comes rushing into the room before Tubbo can fire back.

Ranboo pretends not to see Michael as he hides behind the counter, giggling to himself. He's holding his ghost costume across his nose like a cape, though his face is already covered.

"Well, I guess we should get going," Tubbo calls an octave too loud. "We just need to find Michael."

Ranboo puts his hands on his hips. "Hey, yeah, where is Michael?"

Michael's giggling quiets as he starts to creep across the floor. Ranboo intentionally turns away.

"He's gotta be around here somewhere..."

From the corner of his eye, Ranboo can see Tubbo nod solemnly as Michael shushes him, not willing to give his son away. Ranboo keeps pretending to look for him, squinting in fake concentration as he turns to check under a tablecloth.

"I just don't know where he could be," Ranboo mumbles to himself, scratching his head.

Michael startles Ranboo more than he'd been expecting when he jumps down from a nearby cabinet, landing directly in front of him with a loud thud. "Boo!" Michael shouts, and Ranboo actually yelps.

"How did you get up there!?" He worries, but Michael only laughs and holds his hands out.

"Boo," he repeats, though this time he's asking for Ranboo instead of scaring him.

Ranboo pulls his son into his arms. "Hi, Michael."

"Scary? I scare you?" Michael pokes at his face.

"I suppose you did," Ranboo admits. "You are very scary tonight, Michael."

Michael lifts up his sheet, scrunching his face up to hiss at Ranboo like a feral raccoon.

"Aw," Tubbo fawns. "He picked that up from Tommy, I bet."

"Scary," Michael playfully growls in what Ranboo suspects is his spooky monster voice. "Gonna scare everybody."

"Well, you can't scare anyone without shoes on," Ranboo sets him down. "And you don't have your candy bucket, either."

Tubbo takes Michael's hand, though they both have to work together to untangle it from the sheet, and leads him off to the living room.

"Come on, bug, we'll go find your pail. Do you think you can tie your own shoes this time?"

Ranboo takes one last look at himself in the mirror as they set off, coating himself in a layer of sealant so his face paint doesn't rub off too easily.

He really does look amazing as Frankenstein's monster, complete with bolts in his neck, stitches all across his body and messy hair. He's wearing leather, too - mostly so he doesn't get chilly - and platform boots that he'd honestly just thought looked cool.

Tubbo matches him as doctor Frankenstein himself, with blood-soaked gloves and an endearingly singed look about him. Though Ranboo is a few feet taller than him in the boots, he's pretty certain they'll be the best dressed out tonight.

Briefly, he mourns a world in which Michael matched along with them. Where he had matching stitches around his face, little bolts in his neck and drawn-on eyebags...

Michael clambers loudly into the room carrying a pumpkin-shaped pail, stomping along in his brand new sneakers. "Ready go!" He announces, big blue eye barely visible under the sheet.

He looks a lot more comfortable like this than he would in the makeup, Ranboo decides - and happier, too.

"You've got your armor in your inventory?" Tubbo checks in. "And bandages, healing and damage pots...?"

"Got it all," Ranboo slides his bag over his shoulder. They call it a diaper bag only half-jokingly - Michael is potty trained, but most of the bag is things for him, anyway.

"Michael," Tubbo drops to eye level. "What's our rule, again, bossman?"

Michael rocks on his heels as he thinks. "Um... Stay with- stay close, um, to you, and… and Boo," he stammers out.

Tubbo ruffles his hair affectionately. Michael had always been good about not running off, but it never hurts for them to check.

"Are you ready, my little freak of nature?" Tubbo links his arm with Ranboo's. "My affront to God? My terrible lab creature?"

Ranboo chuckles. "Ready when you are."

Truth be told, Ranboo is sort of excited to see everyone tonight. It's isn't often that he gets the opportunity to see this many people all together at once.

It's gotten better since the tentative server-wide peace has been in place, of course. More and more people have slowly been gaining the confidence to come out of their hidden bases and compounds, opting instead to hang out at McPuffy's or lounge around the Big Innit lobby. It's finally been long enough without any incidents for them to semi-comfortably celebrate this Halloween.

Tonight, there's a jack-o'-lantern lining the prime path every few feet, glowstone lamps dimly illuminating the small piles of leaves dusting the sidewalk. A bitter cold briefly blows through the air, though it's quickly replaced by a much more mild chill. The moon is full tonight, though not at its peak yet, and Ranboo can hear the distant sound of laughter echoing through the night.

Michael scampers a bit ahead of them, climbing the stairs on all fours to get up them faster. Ranboo is half worried he'll trip, especially with his limited visibility, but Michael keeps his balance as he runs along the path to Tommy's house.

Michael stops around the side of the house as Tubbo and Ranboo crest the stairs. They both know the drill - they're supposed to go ahead of him and lead Tommy right to him, so that Michael can deliver the ultimate scare.

Tommy is sitting in his front yard carving a pumpkin when Tubbo and Ranboo approach. He's got on a full spider costume, four extra arms wired to move alongside his own as he carefully etches out a face. He's covered in grass, which detracts from the costume a bit, but he'd at least made a weak attempt to draw on pincers.

Tommy brightens when they approach, dropping his pumpkin and bounding over to them. "Tubbo! Ranboo! My friends!"

He immediately starts fiddling with their costumes, tugging on the different pieces to assess them as he rambles. "You two look so cool! Ranboo, your face, you look better than normal! That'd be Tubbo, I reckon - he always did know how to do shit like that."

"Would've been easier if he'd sat fuckin' still," Tubbo gripes.

Ranboo rolls his eyes. "Hey, it was my first time having makeup put on me."

"Shouldn't be the last," Tommy mumbles under his breath. Ranboo shoots him a look.

"Hey, Tommy, can you come here a second?" He asks slyly, beckoning for Tommy to follow him around the side of the building. "I wanna, um… I wanna show you something."

Tommy follows along at a bit of a distance, staring at Ranboo like he's grown a second head. "...Okay, king, but this better not be some kinda fucked up-"

"Boo!" Michael shrieks, jumping into Tommy's path with a swish of his sheet.

Tommy barely startles, but he plays up his reaction for Michael's sake, stumbling backwards with an exaggerated gasp.

"You fuckin' scared me, Big M, jesus!" Tommy crouches down to Michael's level. "What are you, some sort of ghost?"

Michael lifts up the sheet. "I scary," he growls in his spooky voice. "Gonna scare everybody."

Tommy laughs at that before responding in a matching growl, returning Michael's "scary" expression by tilting his head down and looking up through his brows.

"I will help you," Tommy rumbles. "Let's go scare those bastards."

"Oh," Ranboo nods, drawing out the word as the pieces click into place. "Okay, so that's where he got it from."

"You look great, Michael," Tommy offers a nod before standing up himself. "Gave me a right good startle, and all that."

"Tank you," Michael growls back, putting his sheet back on.

He and Tommy make eye contact for a beat, both staring blankly.

Tommy smiles. "D'you want some candy?"

"Peas!" Michael nods, holding out his bucket. "Candy!"

Tommy cocks his head and leads them all into his house. It's decorated with paper bats and spiderwebs, though Ranboo isn't entirely sure the webs are supposed to be decoration.

Proving his point, Shroud jumps up at them as soon as they enter, hissing in what Ranboo hopes is a friendly sort of way and scampering around in circles. The spider has on a green bandana and one of Tommy's shirts, though the sleeves have been cut off to better fit him.

"Shroud's dressed as me," Tommy informs them, "and I'm him. We're besties like that. Ain't that right, Shroud?"

Shroud hisses again, like he understands what Tommy had said, and crawls over to Michael who pats his head softly.

"Puppy," Michael coos. Ranboo doesn't have the heart to correct him.

Tommy retrieves a bag of candy large enough to make Ranboo's head spin from a nearby chest, ripping it open with his teeth.

Ranboo taps on Michael's head. "Michael, what do we say?"

"Tick or treat!" Michael recites, though he still hasn't quite gotten the hang of the first word. He holds up his pail for Tommy to dump in a scoop of candy, followed by a second and third scoop when he thinks Ranboo isn't looking.

"So what are you up to tonight, big man?" Tubbo scratches under Shroud's chin as Tommy puts away his sweets. "Anything crazy?"

"Oh, Tubbo, I'm always crazy," Tommy shakes his head. "I mean, you know me!"

"So you're staying in, then?"

"Shut the fuck up," mumbles Tommy, crossing his arms in a pout.

Seeing his distress, Michael tugs on Tommy's pant leg and offers him a lollipop.

"Candy," Michael encourages.

Tommy hesitates, but eventually pops the sucker into his mouth with a "Yeah, okay."

"You could join us, if you want," Ranboo shrugs. "We're just taking Michael to trick or treat, and then... Well, I dunno. I assume we'll get into some sort of wacky shenanigans, right?"

"Probably," Tommy agrees, overlapping with Tubbo's "Fairs."

"Alright, I suppose I'll come with you," Tommy dramatically sighs. "It'll be fun to watch Michael scare people, at least."

"Scary," Michael growls. "Want candy."

"There's a block party just down the way," Tommy tells them. "Everyone's just sort of hangin' out, I think."

"There's probably some candy there," Tubbo chimes in. "And lots of potential targets for Michael."

Ranboo hums, gathering Michael into his arms before he can stuff his third chocolate bar into his mouth. "What do you think, lil' boo? D'you wanna go to the block party?"

Michael dons his best evil look. "Yes, peas," he hisses, and Ranboo just barely holds back his laughter.

"Block party it is, then," Ranboo decides. "Let's go get you some candy."

Tubbo has been to his fair share of block parties before.

If you could even call them that, really. They were almost entirely made up of L'Manberg members, though it wasn't unheard of for Purpled or Ponk or some other rare person that didn't detest them to drop by, lounging around the camarvan and listening to the practiced perfection of Wilbur's folk songs.

That feels now like ages ago. It may as well have been a past life, back when Tubbo had his heart in a good place and stars in his eyes, unscarred and unafraid and not yet ruined.

Tubbo has always thought Ranboo would have liked L'Manberg's little block parties. He squeezes his husband's hand as they approach this new party, bigger and brighter than L'Manberg's were ever able to be.

String lights adorn the field that everyone crowds in, fold-out chairs set up around a few tables, many of which have some sort of food or candy. Nearby speakers blare a spooky song with an infectious beat, Tubbo's costumed friends milling about aimlessly.

The clearing is filled with talking and laughter and friendship, so achingly familiar that Tubbo could cry. Sometimes he thinks of rejecting the newfound peace, of digging his heels in and gnashing his teeth, because why had peace only come now? Why hadn't it been this way from the start?

From Tubbo's side, Tommy sniffs indignantly and catches his eye. "L'Manberg's were better," he deadpans, and with that he weaves his way into the crowds.

Ranboo glances down at Tubbo, clueless to his plight, ear flicking nervously. "There's- Um, there's a lot of food here... Do- do you think we should've brought a dish?"

Tubbo offers him a smile, because only Ranboo would be worried about a thing like that. "I think we're gonna be just fine, Boo," he reassures him, and both of them catch how unnecessarily soft Tubbo's voice is.

Ranboo opens his mouth to reply, but blinks before he can, twisting around to look for-

"Michael," Tubbo catches up. "Fuck. Where's he run off to?"

Ranboo's gaze locks onto something in the crowd soon enough, eyes widening, and Tubbo peers in the general direction until he spots his son.

Michael crouches under a table, steadily creeping up behind Technoblade, hands forming fake claws as he sneaks forward.

"Oh, fuck," Tubbo laughs. "That's our boy."

"Well, he's certainly ambitious," Ranboo shakes his head as he tugs Tubbo over. "Come on, let's go claim our little goblin."

Our little goblin, Tubbo affectionately repeats in his head. He really is quite proud of his kid, and not just for scaring Technoblade. Michael is exceptionally bright for his age, curious and charming and a bit of a cuddle monster. Tubbo wouldn't have him any other way.

Michael spots them coming. Tubbo catches the slightest startle from under the sheet, and Michael speeds up his movements. Ranboo tries to speed up, as well, but he's still tripping around in his platform boots like a baby deer. A stray root causes Ranboo to stumble, and Tubbo very kindly doesn't laugh at him as he helps him steady.

Ranboo's stumble affords Michael all the time he needs. He tugs on Technoblade's cape, just hard enough to get his attention, running around to stand in front of Techno as soon as he turns around to look.

"Heh," Techno blankly says at the ground, before turning around to the scare of his life.

"Boo!" Michael draws the word into a shout, waving his hands and jumping up and down in what he must think is a very menacing way. A beat of silence passes, Techno blinking at the apparition in front of him.

"That was pretty good," Techno nods, looking impressed. To Tubbo's bafflement, he reaches into his cloak and procures a candy bar the size of Michael's head. "Here."

Michael squeals in delight, hugging the thing to his chest. "Tank you!"

"That's... A lot of candy," Ranboo grimaces as he and Tubbo are finally within speaking distance. "He's not gonna sleep for weeks."

"I'm tryin' to reward his behavior," Techno explains. "We wanna get him into instillin' fear into the hearts of his enemies at a young age, so it'll really stick when he gets older."

Tubbo glances down at his son, shoelaces coming undone as he jumps around in circles with a chocolate bar in his arms.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

A familiar melodic laugh heralds the arrival of another familiar face. "You gave him the candy you brought, I see, Techno."

"Well, I certainly wasn't gonna eat it."

Tubbo snorts. "Yeah, but Michael's quite tiny. He might not be able to eat all of- ah!"

Tubbo jumps in fright as he turns to see Phil, who has a gigantic (and terrifying) crow's head on.

Phil laughs as he removes his crow's head, sending a fluff of feathers cascading to the ground around him. "Aw, Tubbo. I'm just a bird, mate."

"Piss off."

Ranboo raises an eyebrow at Technoblade, cocking out a hip. "And what are you dressed up as?"

"A king," Technoblade informs them, dressed in the same thing he always wears. "And a piglin, too, I guess."

"That's fuckin' lame," Tommy calls from over Tubbo's shoulder. Tubbo doesn't startle, but he gets close.

"Jesus, Tommy."

"What?" Tommy scoffs, Wilbur trailing behind him with a drink in hand. "It is. Almost as lame as whatever Wil's costume is."

As if on cue, Wilbur begins circling Ranboo and Tubbo, appraising their outfits with a keen eye. "Hmm..."

"Are they up to your standards, oh wise one?" Ranboo sticks his arms out and shuts his eyes.

"...Solid," Wilbur finally nods. "Reckon the face paint was all Tubbo, seeing as how it looks decent."

"You flatter me, bossman," Tubbo grins.

Wilbur doesn't seem to be dressed up as anything, either. He's got his unruly curls in a pumpkin-themed beanie, at least, but he wears a simple gray sweatshirt with his dark jeans.

"What are you supposed to be?" Asks Ranboo, and Wilbur pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a chuckle.

"I thought the scariest costume of all would be to just go as myself. You know, Ranboo, often times people are the real monsters. Sometimes looking in the mirror is just as horrific as any-"

"Boo!" Michael squeals from right behind Wilbur, who must jump at least a foot into the air.

"Jesus fucking christ!" Wilbur shrieks, and the group bursts into laughter around him.

Once Tubbo regains control of himself, though still giggling, he ruffles Michael's hair affectionately. "That's my boy."

"Can't you keep that thing on a leash?" Wilbur growls, though he's clearly losing a fight against a smile of his own. "Fucking hazardous."

Michael cocks his head to the side, holding out his candy pail to Wilbur. "Tick or treat!"

Wilbur stares down at the child, baffled. "Oh. Um… Shit."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "C'mon, Wil. Don't tell me you didn't bring any candy."

Wilbur shakes his head as he furiously turns out his pockets. "I didn't, actually, 'cause I wasn't expecting a toddler to be asking me for- Alright, here. Um, take- just take this."

Wilbur drops a few different things into Michael's pail - spare change, mint gum, and even a box of raisins.

Michael doesn't seem bothered. "Tank you!" He says dutifully, plopping himself down on the ground to rifle through his rapidly filling bucket.

"This," Techno points out, "is exactly why it's a good idea to encourage him to scare people. Keeps Wilbur on his toes."

"Oh, piss off," Wilbur grins at him.

Ranboo rests an arm on Tubbo's head, peering down at him. "D'you wanna go stop Michael from eating coins again, or do you want me to do it?"

"Well, I mean," Tubbo shrugs. "I reckon it'd be pretty funny to watch you try and pick him up in those boots without falling over."

"Evil," Ranboo murmurs to him on his way past, directly contrasting the hand that trails along Tubbo's shoulders. "Evil, evil husband."

Ranboo does not, in fact, pick Michael up without falling over. The platforms prove to be too much, and Ranboo can only offer a quick "Well, there I go," before he and Michael are sprawled out together in the grass.

Tommy shoots Tubbo a look, a very simple god I can't believe you married him Tubbo you're stuck with that dumb prick for life now expression, but Tubbo can see the fondness in Tommy's eyes as clear as day.

Tubbo makes the executive decision to help Ranboo up, because he's gracious like that. Normally, he'd just lie down in the grass beside him, but Tubbo is not about to risk fucking up their costumes before everyone has seen them.

"Need some help, there?" Tubbo leans over Ranboo.

Ranboo pretends to be shocked at his arrival, mouth forming a perfect O shape. "You came to rescue me from the grass!"

"What can I say," Tubbo shrugs as he effortlessly hoists Ranboo to his feet. "It's just what I do, I mean..."

Michael tugs on Tubbo's lab coat having successfully gathered all of his spilled candy back into his bucket. Pointing at a nearby group of people, he peeks out from under his sheet. "Tick or treat?"

"Alright, we can go and see some other people. You've gotta try and scare 'em, though, yeah?"

Michael grins wickedly, mischief dancing in his eyes as he disappears back under his sheet. "Otay," he growls, and he's racing off toward the partygoers almost quicker than Ranboo is able to follow him.

Tubbo is halfway to following them both before Tommy stops him, hand on his shoulder and a serious look on his face. "Tubbo."

"Yeah, big man?"

Tommy doesn't reply. He simply takes Tubbo's hand, tugging him off towards a nearby table and crawling underneath it.

Tubbo stares blankly, waiting for him to emerge, before Tommy pokes his head back out from under the tablecloth. Tubbo blinks in response.

Tommy rolls his eyes, motioning for Tubbo to follow him. Tubbo does, though he doesn't understand why. He doesn't reckon he needs to; If Tommy tells him to kneel in the grass under the desert table, he'll do it, no questions asked.

"Tubbo," Tommy starts. "Who's your best friend and the most badass person in the whole world?"

"Michael," Tubbo replies. Tommy punches his arm.

"Shut up, man. Say it."

"You're my best friend in the whole world and the most badass friend and the best."

"Good, good," Tommy nods. "Glad you think so, 'cause I'm about to make your Halloween night a hell of lot more interesting."

Tubbo doesn't even have time to question him before Tommy scoots to he side, revealing a veritable goldmine of Halloween mischief hidden just behind him.

Tubbo meets Tommy's eyes, pulse quickening in anticipation. "Is that for...?"

"Oh yeah," Tommy grins in a sinister sort of way. "You in?"

Tubbo bares his teeth. "Damn straight, I am."

Ranboo is sort of regretting being such a pushover. How could he not be, though, when Tubbo was always so convincing?

He'd taken Ranboo's hands, smiling so wide as he explained his plan, and he'd even invited Ranboo to come along with him. Ranboo had said he'd rather stay at the party, and Tubbo had hugged him for good measure and promised he'd be back soon, that no jail could hold him and Sam was distracted anyway...

Ranboo does have to admit, though, that it's pretty amusing to picture the damage they're probably doing with that much toilet paper and eggs.

Michael has been having a blast since Tubbo has been gone, scaring and getting candy from a multitude of different partygoers, though not many of them had costumes that could rival Ranboo and Tubbo's.

Sam and Ponk offered Michael essential oils and a new part for one of Tubbo's machines alongside the regular candy, though Ponk's lemon suit made it hard for them to move. Sam had been in only a witch's hat, which Ponk had explained was a compromise - Sam hadn't wanted to dress up, preferring to go as "a builder" instead.

Skeppy and Bad had been a demon and an angel, respectively. Bad had given Skeppy an earful for cursing so loudly when Michael startled them both, but had given Michael an entire tub of cotton candy, alongside a pack of peanuts - for balance, he'd supplied, angel wings ruffling behind him as Skeppy smiled from under his crooked horns.

Fundy the cowboy had gotten a bit too frightened over Michael's very sudden arrival, but later had a blast letting Michael play with his toy gun, tossing a bit of taffy into his bucket every time he hit an imaginary shot. This culminated, of course, in Michael riding on Fundy's shoulders wearing his cowboy hat, which Ranboo probably snapped far too many photos of.

Slime had shown up with a pumpkin on his head. (Much to Ranboo's dismay, as pumpkins always make his stomach churn.) He'd said his costume was "a human pretending to be a vegetable", which he'd been very proud of. Michael hadn't been able to scare him, but Slime had reached into his own ribcage and pulled out a few candy bars for Michael anyway, though Ranboo isn't entirely sure he wants his son eating them.

Eret's costume, "The Sun", had been elaborate and ornate and had made Ranboo feel kind of stupid about his own Frankenstein getup. Eret had been just as lovely as usual, getting appropriately frightened at Michael's scare tactics before offering him several king sized candy bars - as well as slipping a few chocolate coins into Ranboo's bag for good measure.

The night carries on like that for a bit - Ranboo will distract someone, Michael will scare them, and he is rewarded with candy. Michael's pail is filling fast, and he looks overjoyed about this fact, shaking it up and down just to hear the rustling of candy and coins and every other bizarre thing he's received.

They've taken a break to eat when Tubbo arrives, Michael digging into his macaroni as Foolish and Ranboo chat.

Foolish's costume is actually fairly impressive - an angler fish with a horrifically realistic mask and a working light dangling in front of his face. Ranboo had been worried Michael would be scared, but he was actually enthralled by the whole ensemble, listening intently as Foolish rattled off facts about the ocean.

"Hello, Boo," Tubbo huffs as he slumps into a chair. He's out of breath, hair a bit mussed and face paint just the slightest bit smudged. "I miss anything important?"

Ranboo discreetly dusts the stray eggshell from Tubbo's coat. "Just- just so much. You just missed so much, honestly. Michael's probably just gonna go off to college soon; That's how long you've been gone."

"Damn," Tubbo steals a french fry from Ranboo's plate. "I have missed my son's entire childhood."

"That's pretty terrible of you," Foolish chimes in. "Like, that is… I feel like that's really not good."

"You're gonna make me regret convincing Tommy that your house was too far away for us to bother vandalizing," Tubbo warns him.

"...Sorry, what?"

"Don't worry about it. The less you know, the more plausible deniability you have."

"Good point," Foolish agrees, before being promptly whisked into a conversation by someone nearby.

Michael sets his fork down loudly, plate cleaned of his food. "All done!" He announces, staring up at Ranboo expectantly.

Ranboo sighs mutedly. "I told him he could only have candy once he finished his food."

"Candy?" Michael kicks his feet, bouncing in his chair. "Peas?"

"Only- only a few pieces, mkay?" Ranboo offers Michael the bucket. "You're hyper enough as it is."

Michael takes his time sifting through the bucket, seeming to heavily weigh his options, before he settles on two miniature candy bars and one piece of taffy.

Michael climbs down from his chair after that, sheet still draped over the back of it. Ranboo briefly worries he'll run off, but Michael simply climbs his way into Tubbo's lap, instead.

Ranboo pretends not to see how Tubbo melts. "Hey there, kiddo," Tubbo smiles down at him. "Been having fun?"

"Mhm, mhm," Michael nods from a mouthful of chocolate. "Yeah."

"That's good. Can I have some of your candy?"

"Mhm!"

Tubbo greedily snatches up a candy bar from the bucket, snapping it in half and offering some to Ranboo.

Ranboo eyes him as he takes it. "Stealing from our child?"

"Damn right," Tubbo slurs around his candy, sitting his head on top of Michael's. "'S like his way of paying taxes."

"Tack says," Michael repeats, smacking on his taffy in an obnoxious sort of way.

"True," Tubbo repeats affectionately, and Ranboo can't help but notice how much more at ease he feels having Tubbo next to him.

Ranboo sometimes feels unbearably clingy, being married to Tubbo. He'd thought he was, at first, assumed he was codependent and needy and high maintenance. Eventually, though, he worked out that he wasn't particularly any of those things.

It isn't that Ranboo can't spend time apart from Tubbo. In fact, he and Tubbo will sometimes spend a few days apart, getting so caught up in visiting friends and relatives that they don't realize how quickly time passes, though they always check in.

It isn't that they can't be apart, it's just that Ranboo gets... Stupidly happy when they aren't apart. Tubbo makes any eyes on him feel all the less scary, makes his normally outrageous anxiety that much easier to bear.

"Quit it," Tubbo crinkles his nose, though he's smiling. "I can hear you thinking something all mushy."

"Well, that is just- that is you," Ranboo puts up his hands. "I did not say anything, that's- If you think I was being mushy, that's on you."

"Mm. So you were smiling like that over the candy?"

"Well, I mean... It did have a caramel center. And did you taste that nougat?"

"Prick," Tubbo affectionately replies.

Michael starts squirming in Tubbo's lap, then, wriggling his way off the chair to make for his costume.

"Time to scare some more people, lil Boo?"

Michael glares at them menacingly. "Yes," he hisses, pulling on his costume in a dramatic flourish.

Tubbo stretches as he stands from his seat, bones cracking in a way that makes Ranboo wince. "Alright, let's go get some more candy."

"You haven't eaten yet," Ranboo points out. "You can stay and get some food if you want."

Tubbo looks confused for a moment, before something seemingly clicks into place for him. "Oh! Um, I wouldn't worry about that."

Ranboo quirks a brow, teetering on his boots as he stands. "And that's supposed to mean...?"

"How 'bout you just wait and see, bossman?"

Ranboo can't quite wrap his head around what Tubbo might be concocting, but he's never trusted anyone more, so he's content to simply drop it. "Yeah, alright."

Michael has already slithered through the cracks of the crowd of people, disappearing from sight in a way that's both worrying and impressive. Ranboo is barely able to spot his tiny figure approaching Niki and Puffy near the punch bowl.

Niki seems to spot him, too. The closer he gets, the more Niki seems to try and block him with her body, floor length dress helping to provide Michael with more cover. Michael takes the opportunity, creeping around Niki's side to hide behind Puffy.

"Hello!" Niki greets them both, acting as if she hasn't seen a thing. "You two look nice. Very spooky, I like it."

"So do you," Ranboo raises his brows, because he's honestly feeling a little intimidated.

Niki has on a ripped, tattered wedding dress. Her makeup is done like she's a corpse, complete with drawn-on mascara tears. She has a thousand little details in her ensemble, more of which come to light the longer Ranboo looks: her torn veil, the leaves and sticks tangled in her hair, her blackened nails.

Puffy matches her in a shredded tuxedo, looking equally dead with a gash across her forehead. Her hair is pulled back in an intentional rat's nest of a ponytail, with wilted rose pinned to her suit jacket.

"Yeah, I reckon you could give us a run for our money for best dressed," Tubbo affords. "Maybe."

"Aw," Niki smiles. "Well, I think that Puffy and I are the best dressed, but it is sweet that you consider us to be competition."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Is it?"

As Niki and Tubbo have their strange little friendly stare-down, chins jutting out and chests puffing up in a joking confrontation, Ranboo clears his throat. "You look cool."

"Thank you! So do you guys. I like the boots," Puffy gestures to his feet.

"Yeah, I'm not so sure that I like them as much now that I've been walking in them," Ranboo admits. "Though it is easier to avoid eye contact like this."

"Seems like it. It adds to the costume, though. You two match nicely."

Nothing warm sparks in Ranboo's chest at that. He does not have to bite back a giddy smile. "Thank you," he cordially replies in a very normal way.

"Speaking of matching... Where's Michael?" Niki pipes up innocently, fully aware that she's sealed Puffy's fate.

Puffy frowns. "Hey, yeah, where is-"

"Boo!"

"Ah!" Puffy jumps, clutching at her chest. "Oh, jesus, Michael! I did not know you were back there!"

She chuckles along with them as soon as she catches her breath, ruefully shaking her head. "You're a little monster," she smiles at Michael as she crouches to his level. "You're lucky your costume is so cute."

Michael nods at her, well aware of his cuteness and how to weaponize it. "Tick or treat!" He thrusts his nearly full bucket forward, tiny arms now struggling a bit to hold it up.

"Ah, shoot." Puffy stands, patting down her pockets. "I could've sworn... I- I thought I had some-"

"Missing this?" Niki holds out a bag to her. "You left it on the coffee table."

"Tank you!" Michael recites as he's given a few bits of candy. His voice wavers a bit with the exertion of holding his bucket, but Tubbo reaches to grab it from him.

"Want me to carry it?"

"Yes peas, Bee," Michael offers it up to him, dramatically sighing when the weight is away from him.

"You look very scary tonight, Michael," Niki hands him another piece of candy. "I thought you were a real ghost!"

Micheal lifts up his sheet to stick the candy in his mouth, but not before whispering to Niki conspiratorially. "Just pretend," he reassures her, though he isn't quite able to pronounce some of the syllables.

"Ah, I see," she nods. "It looks very convincing."

"Ranboo made it," Tubbo tells them. "That's why it looks so good."

It's only a simple sheet ghost costume, but Ranboo still preens a bit at the compliment. "Yeah, well," he mumbles, and no sooner than he blushes at the compliment does Tubbo's hand find his.

"It does look nice. How were you able to-"

"Well, well, well! Look who decided to show up!"

Niki is interrupted by a shout from somewhere behind their table. Ranboo isn't surprised in the slightest to see that the three fiances are the source of the noise, seemingly in a heated argument with George.

Ranboo wants to leave it alone, really, but with a swish of his sheet and a low growl, Michael is already sneaking towards the group.

Ranboo sighs through his goodbyes to Niki and Puffy, finding solace only in the comforting warmth of Tubbo's hand in his own as they approach the commotion.

Ranboo can tell what the conflict is immediately. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap are all in matching costumes tonight. They've donned green shirts with turtle shells, each with a different weapon and a different colored eyemask. Karl appears to be Michaelangelo, Sapnap is Raphael, Quackity is Leonardo...

There is no fourth turtle, and George is dressed in his normal 404 t-shirt.

"That is so fucking funny," whispers Tubbo.

"I don't understand why I was supposed to be Donatello," George argues as Tubbo and Ranboo enter earshot. "I don't even make- the song says he does machines."

"Yeah, well, none of us make machines, George!" Sapnap shouts back.

"It's not gonna be a perfect one to one ratio, okay?" Karl backs him up. "The point is that we all match!"

"Why did we have to match as turtles? That doesn't even make any sense. Why couldn't we have gone as… As, uh." George falters, seemingly unable to produce an idea. "I- I dunno, something else."

"No, if you have a better idea, let us hear it, George! By all means!"

Michael steadily creeps up behind George as the argument rages on. Ranboo starts forward to prevent Michael from interrupting them, but Tubbo puts out an arm to stop him, shaking his head.

George crosses his arms with a huff. "I shouldn't have to come up with an idea,, but you guys should have come up with a less stupid one."

"Why would you- the costume isn't even that hard to fucking put on, George, you- Do you not know how goddamn embarrassing that is for us?" Quackity demands.

"Hm," George's eyebrows just barely raise over his glasses. "I kinda don't care?"

Before the fiances can start in on him again, Michael sets his plan in motion, tugging on George's leg before running around the side of him.

"...What the honk was that?" George mutters at the ground behind him, before turning around to a jumpscare.

"Boo!"

"Oh my god!" George startles so hard that he stumbles over his cape, tangling himself in it before landing in the grass with a dull thud.

The fiances erupt into cheers and laughter immediately, reveling in George's increasingly reddening face.

"Let's go, Michael! Let's go!" Quackity squeals in delight.

"Michael is literally cracked at Halloween?" Karl swings the toddler up into his arms as Michael giggles along. "Everyone else should just give up and go home? He's the scariest person here?"

"Let me see if I have some candy," Sapnap digs through his pockets.

Michael brightens immediately. "Tick or treat?" He excitedly asks.

"Here," Sapnap declares, and Ranboo's jaw drops when he pulls out a container with a small cake. "You earned it, little guy."

"Why are you guys rewarding him for scaring me," George mumbles, still sitting on the ground. "That's muffined up."

"Well maybe you," Sapnap rounds on him, hair sparking dangerously, "shouldn't have muffined up by forgetting the very simple costume that we asked you to wear-"

"Tank you Sappap!" Michael interrupts brightly.

Sapnap pauses in his rant for long enough to offer Michael a fist bump, which the toddler gladly accepts. "Of course, Michael. You deserve it, little dude."

Ranboo clears his throat, then, a newly awkward silence stretching through the air. The fiances still glare at George, though they don't look too sure if the argument is still worth having.

Tubbo grabs the cake from Michael, zipping the container safely inside their diaper bag as everyone shuffles around aimlessly, having finally lost some of their hostile energy.

Tubbo briefly catches Ranboo's eye, something dangerous flickering behind his lashes.

Please can I rile them up again, Tubbo asks Ranboo with his eyes. It will be so funny. Please.

Ranboo gives him a look back, one that might convey Ugh, I guess so, or Anything you want, always, or anything in between.

"If anything," Tubbo grins wickedly, "shouldn't George have been Leonardo? I reckon he's sort of a leader, and blue is his color."

"Hey, yeah," George agrees in the same nonchalant tone he's carried during most of the interaction so far. "Why wouldn't I be Leonardo?"

All three fiances' faces visibly darken. Tubbo squeezes Ranboo's hand giddily.

"Because nobody's color," Quackity seethes, "is fucking purple, George!"

"Karl's is!"

"It kind of is," Karl admits as he sets Michael down. "But I've got lots of colors, and we all agreed that I could be Michaela-"

"I didn't agree to that!"

"Motherfucker," Sapnap's fingertips dance with sparks. "I will pull up the goddamn group DMs, I will pull them out right the fuck now-"

Tubbo beams up at Ranboo, seemingly revelling in the chaos. Ranboo gently tugs on his hand to lead him away, and Tubbo and Michael both follow along without issue.

"Well, that was fun."

"Why must you cause problems on purpose," Ranboo fondly shakes his head.

"Honestly?" Tubbo's voice lowers a bit. "It's kind of nice to see people argue and know that it's all, like, joke-y. Like- like it's nice to, um. It helps remember- helps remind me that... That things are better now, if that makes sense?"

Immediately, Tubbo ducks his head in shame. "Ah, that probably doesn't make any sense. Sor-"

"No, no, no," Ranboo interrupts. "That- that makes sense, Tubbo. And- Hey, even if it didn't, you're allowed to feel however, y'know?"

Tubbo offers him the smallest of smiles, but whatever he's thinking of saying gets interrupted by Michael bounding ahead of them.

"Michael!" Tommy cheers at the toddler hurtling towards him, already opening his arms for the incoming tackle-hug. "I've barely seen you tonight, big man!"

Michael is twirled up into Tommy's arms in an instant, squealing in excitement as he begins to ramble.

"I scare everybody!" Michael tells him excitedly. "Got candy!"

"Big man, I never doubted you. Did they scream? Did they all jump up in the air like pussies?"

"Yeah!"

Tommy's four extra arms bounce alongside him as he and Michael animatedly chatter, Michael absolutely bouncing with energy and Tommy reacting in kind. They're illuminated by the string lights, standing in a flower patch, and Ranboo is suddenly very thankful that Michael is able to grow up so surrounded by love.

Tubbo sets Michael's candy bucket on a nearby table, sliding the diaper bag off of Ranboo's back to sling over a chair.

The party bustles around them. Though the amount of food has dwindled a bit and the moon has risen almost to its peak in the sky, the server is as lively as ever; there is near constant laughter and a game of apple bobbing nearby and the speakers begin to thrum with a brand new haunting refrain.

To Ranboo's confusion, Tubbo offers up his hand.

"Tommy's got Michael," Tubbo glances up from his deep bow. "Seems like the perfect time for a dance, I reckon."

Ranboo immediately brightens - which is stupid, because they dance together in their kitchen all the time. Still, something about this feels different and thrilling and special, so Ranboo takes Tubbo's hand in his own and softly replies, "Let me get these death traps off my feet."

Even barefoot, Ranboo is still over a foot taller than Tubbo.

Tubbo doesn't mind. He's used to it- and, anyway, it doesn't make much of a difference now. They've danced with each other often enough to know the ways around it, however clumsy they'd been back when they first started.

(Tubbo had been running on barely any sleep, presidential suit ruffled and tie loosened, socked feet in Ranboo's kitchen. He'd been napping on the couch, unable to stand the atmosphere of the white house, but before he could sneak away and get back to work Ranboo had been there, brilliant and confusing and grabbing his hands and spinning him into a twirl-)

Tubbo twirls his way around Ranboo, hands intertwined, both having shed bits of their costumes to have better control over their balance. Since they've started dancing, others have joined, and the patch of flowers in front of the speakers has transformed into a dance floor, jubilant and lively and brimming with energy.

Ranboo doesn't miss a beat as they step around each other, perfectly practiced, heartbeats both in sync. He used to be so bad about stepping on Tubbo's feet, all clumsy and self-conscious, second guessing his every move...

There's no trace of that hesitation now. They both know how the other will move before they do it, though they're making up this dance as they go along. There's a high in the music, which Ranboo accentuates with a jump and a clap and a "Hey!", and Tubbo tilts his head back and laughs.

Tubbo pauses for a moment, after that, Ranboo's hand still on his waist. The fake stitches are peeling off of Ranboo's face, hair messy and covered in grass stains, unnatural eyes catching the light in a way that's equally unsettling and enchanting.

"You good?" Ranboo raises an eyebrow, tail flickering behind him.

"I want to show you something," Tubbo replies.

Ranboo looks taken aback. "Um... Okay? I- What about Michael?"

Tubbo jerks his head for Ranboo to turn around. On the other side of the field Michael is barely keeping his eyes open, slumped against an equally sleepy Tommy, both lying back in the grass.

"Eh, he seems to be fine at the minute, yeah?"

It's Tubbo's way of asking, of making Ranboo clarify that he does want to run off somewhere with him, that he isn't doing anything out of obligation or pressure. Ranboo doesn't let him down, an infectious smile blooming across his face.

"Okay," Ranboo gives him one last twirl as the song comes to a close. "Show me something, then."

Truth be told, Tubbo had almost forgotten about the surprise he'd set up for Ranboo. It had been very last minute - while he and Tommy were out vandalizing, Tubbo'd just sort of randomly had the idea. It isn't much, just a picnic blanket from Tommy's and a bag of stolen food from the party, but...

Ranboo laughs breathlessly as they reach the top of the tower. "Oh my god," he murmurs, pacing in a circle around the bare-bones setup Tubbo has prepared for him. He looks surprised, and Tubbo thinks it's in a good way, but the fact that he isn't sure makes his palms sweat and his stomach burn.

"The food is stolen," Tubbo blurts before he can stop himself. "From the party."

Ranboo quirks a brow at him, fond and amused and a little bit teasing. "What?"

"I- I just know that, um." Tubbo swallows, cursing the butterflies fluttering in his stomach for being so worried Ranboo might hate this surprise. "When you planned that picnic for us, you- you actually, like, made all the food, y'know? I didn't do that. I just, um... Took it."

Ranboo shakes his head at him, choking on his words a few times, the same overwhelming smile not budging from his face. "Tubbo."

"Mm?"

Ranboo takes a seat on the blanket, bits of grass flaking off of his clothes as he crosses his legs. "Sit with me."

Tubbo doesn't have to be told twice. He sits up on his knees, opening the satchel he'd taken and showing off the food he'd managed to squirrel away.

"This is- um, this is bottled lemonade, I think? Or- or ginger ale, maybe, it's unlabeled, so... I grabbed a few cookies, a bag of chips to share, some of those little, um... I can never remember what they're called. The- it's a little hot dog with bread around it? Those things, uh... The fries were gone, but I got some of those little finger sandwiches that I saw you eating, cause I figured you'd like them..."

Tubbo glances up to find Ranboo already looking at him.

"...Do you like them?"

"Did you really plan me a surprise picnic and expect me to hate it?" Ranboo's tone is heavy with amusement, thick with endearment, the type of sound that goes straight to the apples of Tubbo's cheeks.

"Maybe," Tubbo growls, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot. "Shut the fuck up."

Ranboo twists the cap off of his bottle, taking a sip before humming to himself. "Tubbo, this is really nice, okay? And even if it wasn't, I wouldn't care. You could literally take me dumpster diving and I'd enjoy it."

"Gross," Tubbo replies.

He feels a bit stupid for being so worried, but he's still working on shaking off the inherent embarrassment of showing that he cares. He still cringes sometimes thinking about how open and vulnerable he's started being, naturally terrified that he'll be let down eventually, that Ranboo will cringe at him and awkwardly agree to this stupid picnic that he doesn't even want.

Ranboo hasn't stopped smiling since they got here, though, so maybe Tubbo has done something right. He's making eye contact for once, gazing at Tubbo in a way that should make him feel self conscious but mostly just makes him feel content.

"It was ginger ale," Ranboo barely murmurs.

Tubbo frowns. "What?"

"The unlabelled... The- you said- the bottle," Ranboo stammers. "It was ginger ale."

"Oh," Tubbo says stupidly. And then, tired of whatever nerves they've both got, "Share these chips with me."

"Okay," Ranboo grins, and they both dig into Tubbo's stolen snacks.

Tubbo eats more chips than Ranboo does, but Ranboo doesn't mention it, and Tubbo leaves the last sandwich for him, so he reckons that makes them even. The little hot dog things - "pigs in a blanket", Ranboo informs him - aren't even that good, really, and Tubbo gets the shock of his life when the cookies have pretzels in them - and even worse, still taste good.

He's still complaining about it as they polish off their meal, Ranboo giggling along to Tubbo's rant.

"I'm serious!" Tubbo argues. "How do you even- if you bake it, doesn't the pretzel burn? How does it not become, like, fucking ash before the dough rises?"

"Maybe because they're not baking it at a billion degrees," chuckles Ranboo. "I have a feeling you don't know as much about baking as you think."

"Oh, whatever," Tubbo waves him off. "Pretzels do not belong in there, that's all I'm saying."

"Words to live by," Ranboo nods solemnly.

The clouds are practically nonexistent tonight, full moon beaming down at them uninterrupted. The height that the tower offers them only makes it that much more lovely, almost too bright to look at dead on - Tubbo is thankful that his hair has finally drooped enough to offer him some sheild from the light. Growing suddenly curious, he scoots his way to the edge of the tower and cautiously peers over the side.

He can make out the glow of the party below, the faint bass of the music just barely audible over the shuddering winds. Tubbo shivers, realizing that it's gotten much colder, and briefly regrets taking off his lab coat for the dance.

He doesn't have much time to be cold before there's a leather jacket being draped over his arms. Ranboo's arm doesn't move back from Tubbo's shoulders as he offers his leather jacket, and Ranboo doesn't protest when Tubbo leans his head on Ranboo's shoulder.

"I knew all that leather was a good idea," Ranboo murmurs as they stare at the people below, nothing more than blurry pinpricks in the distance.

"Bet it was uncomfortable, though."

"Not more than the boots," Ranboo muses. "Those may have been a mistake."

Tubbo briefly wonders which of the little blurry shapes down there is Michael. If he's still asleep, softly dozing curled up with Tommy in the grass, a blanket thrown over them by a well meaning passerby. Or maybe they've woken up, replenished by a brief nap and testing out just how many more scares they can rack up before the night comes to a close.

"This has been a pretty good Halloween," Tubbo thinks aloud. "It's been really fun."

"It has," Ranboo agrees. "First one I can remember celebrating, but... I'm sure it's been the best for me. Surely this is the best costume I've ever had, at least."

"Of course it is. You were matching with me."

Tubbo says it jokingly, but Ranboo simply tugs him closer and softly murmurs "That's true."

"Michael had fun, I think," Ranboo adds. "I'm really glad he seemed to enjoy it."

Tubbo nods into Ranboo's shoulder, no longer having the energy to care about his makeup. "I'm really glad he scared all those people. That was funny."

"It was funny, wasn't it?"

"Mm," Tubbo starts, but he's interrupted by a massive yawn.

Ranboo starts yawning before Tubbo is even finished. "You're gonna make me tired," Ranboo whines. "Stop it."

Tubbo slumps further into Ranboo's side, nearly too tired to hold himself up. "Can't help it. Exhausted from doing the world's best costume makeup."

The exhaustion really is starting to catch up to Tubbo, though it's the exceedingly rare good kind. Tubbo still isn't used to it, the concept that he could be this tired not from fighting a war or running a country, but just from having fun all night.

"Hey," Ranboo softly jostles him. "Tubbo?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you, um... Would you mind if I got gross and sappy for a sec?"

"Oh god," Tubbo groans into his shoulder, stomach already twisting itself into a knot. It's more than enough just knowing that Ranboo would have anything mushy to say about him - hearing it said aloud is about to be an entirely different experience.

Still, Tubbo isn't about to say no. "Okay," he mumbles, bracing himself for the embarrassing joy that comes along with hearing that he is cared for.

"I just... It really meant a lot to me to spend this Halloween with you guys. You and Michael and Tommy, and- and everyone, really, but..."

Ranboo exhales a laugh, pressing their temples together. "I don't know. I'm tired, and I'm just glad you're here."

"Oh," Tubbo says without thinking. And then, thinking far too much about it, "I love you."

Ranboo fakes a gasp, though it lacks the energy it would normally have. "Wow, Tubbo, that's... Okay, big- bold admission there, um... Wow. Lot to unpack."

"Shut up," Tubbo smiles, burying his face against Ranboo's shoulder. "God, you're so stupid."

"Well, gosh, I... Alright, this may come as a shock, so get ready... Are you ready to hear this?"

"Uh huh," Tubbo deadpans, but he's smiling so hard his cheeks ache and he's curled up into Ranboo's side and everything is warm and fuzzy and perfect.

"Believe it or not, I love you too."

Tubbo props his chin up to look him in the eyes. "I hate your guts."

"Mhm, mhm. But tonight you hate my guts in a spooky way."

"Halloween is so magical," Tubbo replies, and that draws a brilliant and blinding laugh from Ranboo.

Tubbo sighs contentedly as the light of the party starts to dim, string lights beginning to switch off one by one. The thudding of the music is no longer audible, so Tubbo reckons everyone is down there pitching in to help clean up and wishing each other well on their way out.

It's all very unreal for him sometimes: The peace, the parties, and especially his own family. Tubbo often has a hard time getting it through his head that this is forever. No longer are moments like this with Ranboo rare exceptions to an otherwise difficult life. Instead, they've become the norm - Tubbo has the luxury of expecting that they'll have some other spur of the moment outing together sometime next week, and they won't have to worry about anyone trying to kill them while they're having lunch.

It's all too much, and also nothing at all. Tubbo's eyes are barely open, breathing in time with Ranboo as they both blur around the edges, dangling their bare feet over the side of the tower.

Ranboo's tail swats gently at Tubbo's back as the last of the lights below flicker out. He has to get up now, he reluctantly realizes, though he knows he has a warm bed to look forward to at home.

He starts to pull away, but Ranboo stops him, hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting away.

"Tubbo," Ranboo starts, speech ever so slightly slurred from how sleepy he is and close enough for their hair to brush together.

"Yes?"

"...I got face paint on your forehead," Ranboo smiles. "I'm sorry. It looks really, really stupid."

Tubbo laughs at that, too tired for it not to be funny, and Ranboo laughs right along with him.

"Happy Halloween," Ranboo smiles down at him. "And many more, and all of that."

Tubbo takes in the cool night air, shutting his eyes against the moonlight and finally being able to picture an entire lifetime of this happiness stretching out before him.

"Happy Halloween," Tubbo responds, punctuating this sentiment by using Ranboo's jacket to rub the paint off his face, just to make sure it stains.