Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Ranboo had proposed to Tubbo, he hadn't really meant it.

He'd wanted to marry Tubbo, sure. He thought Tubbo was smart and funny and nice to talk to, and even back then, they'd both been committed enough to being almost-friends for Ranboo to just barely justify proposing.

The first time Ranboo proposed, the stipulations were clear. They would marry for the child and the taxes, and that was that, plain and simple. For divorces one through five, that was enough for both of them.

His sixth proposal had gone differently. It was the first proposal where Ranboo'd used the good rings, the ones he crafted just for them, and something about seeing them both cradled in his own hand had set him off. That night Ranboo spilled a little too much a little too fast, bearing his heart in a way he hadn't meant to. The only thing stronger than his fear of scaring Tubbo off had been his fear of Tubbo not knowing how much he meant to him, and when he'd finished his little speech, he'd been sure Tubbo was about to run away.

Tubbo commissioned their mansion the very next day, and after another joking divorce, proposal number seven was Tubbo's first. He'd taken Ranboo into the barely-started construction site and mumbled his way through a moment of genuine honesty, legs dangling precariously off of a bit of scaffolding as he pointedly looked away.

Since then, Ranboo and Tubbo have been married forty-five more times and counting. That's fifty-two proposals, fifty-two vow exchanges, and fifty-two promises to stay together, however rushed or clunky or half-hoping they may have been.

But fifty-two marriages so far entails fifty-one divorces. And as they stand here together on the docks of Snowchester, bathed in the breathtaking colors of the sunset, they're about to shoot for their fifty-second divorce.

"You're so- you're so selfish, Ranboo, you only ever think about yourself!"

Pointedly ignoring the way Tubbo's voice cracks on the last word, Ranboo scoffs. Bringing a hand to his chest, he steps forwards. "I'm selfish!? What about this mansion, this money- where do you think all of that's coming from? How is it selfish of me-"

"Oh I know damn well where the money's coming from," Tubbo hisses, eyes narrowing. "It's coming from those three-day mining trips you take so you can avoid being around us-"

Ranboo splutters, incredulous, digging his heels into the snow. "That's why you think I go mining? To avoid you? That's really what you think."

"I don't think, I know. You make it very clear-"

"Yeah, well, you make it clear that the money is the only reason that you keep me around!" Ranboo shouts, taking a step further to prod a finger into Tubbo's chest. "You're a gold digger, Tubbo, plain and simple."

Tubbo rips himself away with an affronted gasp. "You bastard, do not talk about our son like that!"

Ranboo goes to respond, but stops himself short when he realizes Tubbo's slip up. He scours his brain for a different way to respond, but ultimately comes up empty, and finally resolves to just break character, suppressing a sigh. How is he meant to fake this divorce if Tubbo won't learn his lines?

As the fabricated fight drains out of him, Ranboo frowns.

"...Tubbo, that's- you skipped a line."

Tubbo blinks, the flush in his cheeks from shouting already starting to fade. "Oh. Um, what did I miss, sorry?"

"You- I'm supposed to call you a gold-digger, and then you say, 'Better a gold-digger than an absent father,' and I say, 'Just-', um, 'Just because you and Michael are both obsessed with gold, that doesn't mean that's the only reason he wants me around.'"

Tubbo grimaces. "That last line needs some work, it's kind of clunky."

"Yeah, that's fair, that's fair," Ranboo sighs. "Should- D'you wanna just skip to the end?"

"Sure."

Squaring his shoulders, Tubbo clears his throat. Ranboo shuts his eyes, quickly recomposing himself.

I'm mad at Tubbo, he reminds himself. I'm so mad at him. We are fighting. I'm not gonna laugh because there's nothing to laugh about, and looking at him doesn't make me happy.

Taking a breath, Ranboo grits his teeth and crosses his arms in a huff.

"So that's really how you feel, then," Tubbo chokes out. It sounds like he's near tears, but Ranboo can tell by his eyes that it's more likely laughter he's swallowing. "Seriously, Ranboo? After everything?"

"Yes," Ranboo spits, conjuring up some fake tears of his own for dramatic effect. "And I don't feel bad about it, either."

Tubbo looks flabbergasted. Breathing in staccato, he takes a few seconds to dramatically examine the palms of his own hands, looking horrified.

Don't laugh, don't laugh, do not laugh...

"Well if that's what you really think of me, then we're through!"

Tubbo over-acts the line, pouring far too much emotion into every word and screwing up his face with a myriad of different fake emotions. He makes a big show of slipping off his ring, holding it directly above his head like he's about to throw it.

Following suit, Ranboo slips off his own, reeling his arm back as if to toss it in the ocean.

"Alright," Ranboo shouts, "Fine!"

"Great!"

"Amazing!"

"Freaking awesome!"

From where their arms are reeled back, both of them fake a throw towards the ocean, Ranboo putting enough energy behind the motion to stumble a bit.

Tubbo catches his arm. When Ranboo looks down, Tubbo meets his eyes for only a millisecond, opting to turn to look out over the ocean instead.

As they stare into the empty waters, Tubbo whistles to mimic the tone of something falling, simulating the sound effect of their rings being thrown.

"Sploosh," Tubbo whispers when he thinks they've been in the air long enough. "Splash."

Turning to his ex-husband, Ranboo opens his palm. "Ring, please?"

Tubbo places his wedding ring gently in the center of Ranboo's palm, still warm from how long he'd been wearing it. He trails his way up to Ranboo's fingertips, gingerly closing them over the ring, and holding his own hand there for good measure.

Tubbo gazes up at him with sparkling eyes, lazy smile just barely wide enough for his dimples to show.

"And scene," Ranboo breathes.

Tubbo's smile widens further as he steps back, taking far too long to fully pull his hand away. "That's divorce fifty-two, then, under our belt with the rest of them."

"And in record time, too," Ranboo praises as he pockets Tubbo's ring. "Think we could hit sixty by the end of the month?"

"Surely we could, Ranboo, surely. I mean, we're pretty dysfunctional, I'd say."

"Are we?" Ranboo laughs. "You and I are toxic, huh?"

"We're merely wrong for each other, Ranboo. I mean, we're just plain wrong."

Their hands brush together as they trudge through the snow banks of their commune. Sometimes Ranboo wishes that Tubbo were just a bit clumsier, stumbled in the snow a bit more often, because it'd give him a pretty convenient excuse to reach for his hand more often.

Unfortunately, Ranboo doesn't have that excuse. If he wants to hold hands, he's going to have to work up the courage.

"Ah, dang," Ranboo hisses. "Shoot. I guess- Well, I mean, I guess I kinda thought our marriage might finally work out on the fifty-second try."

Before Ranboo can start towards the cabin, Tubbo cuts him off. He uses his shoulder to steer Ranboo towards the factory, starting up the stairs without a word. Seeing as how the blue dusk of Snowchester is rapidly darkening, Ranboo reckons that means they're stargazing again.

"Well," Tubbo draws out the word, stopping mid-staircase to rock on his heels. "I mean... Maybe our marriage will work on the fifty-third try, yeah?"

Ranboo plays dumb, quirking a brow, hand on his hip. "Sorry, what's that?"

"What's what?"

"I dunno," he teases. "It just- Well, I mean, it almost sounded like you were propo-"

"Nope!" Tubbo chirps, turning swiftly around to take the stairs two at a time. "I most certainly fucking wasn't. That divorce won't even count unless we give it at least a day, and it's your turn to propose, anyway."

"Aw," Ranboo pouts, praying he doesn't slip on his way up. "But I like being proposed to."

"Yeah, so do I," scoffs Tubbo. "Dumbass."

Tubbo plops himself down on the factory's roof, seemingly uncaring of the bitter chill. He brings his knees to his chest, and turns back to gaze apologetically as Ranboo finds his footing on the ice.

"Sorry, that was a little bit rude. I'm just excited to be proposed to again, I think."

Ranboo grins as he takes a seat next to him. "Oh yeah?"

Tubbo pointedly looks away as his cheeks darken, just barely visible in the dim light of the still-rising moon. Ranboo has to fight not to giggle at him, opting instead to swat at the back of Tubbo's head with his tail, just hard enough to annoy him.

"How should I do it, I wonder?" Ranboo muses. "Should- do you want me to plan it all out like last time, or should we- Do you wanna make it a 'proposal twenty-four' type situation where it seems spontaneous?"

"Mm, you don't strike me as the spontaneous type, Ranboo. Maybe plan it out."

"M'kay, m'kay," Ranboo nods. Again, he tries to work up the courage to take Tubbo's hand, inching his pinkie just close enough to brush Tubbo's own.

"Any- Um, I mean, do you have any requests, or...? Do you just want me to surprise you?"

Ranboo almost jumps when he suddenly feels the warm flush of Tubbo's hand in his own, fingers loosely tangled together. He glances down at his ex-husband nervously, expecting him to be catching his breath, only to find Tubbo seemingly unbothered by initiating the gesture.

...God, Ranboo is embarrassing.

He really shouldn't still be hung up on the hand-holding thing. They've long since been over that boundary, and seeing as Tubbo and Tommy spent years grabbing one another's hands and wrists to drag each other around, Tubbo really doesn't think much of it.

(As silly as it is, though, Ranboo is still a bit excited. He's never had anyone to toss his arm around or high-five if he does something cool - not that he can remember, anyway - and that makes every interaction with Tubbo all the more special to him, even if it’s a small one.)

Tubbo's eye's narrow as he leans in, grinning in a playful sort of way. "You know I always want you to surprise me, Ranboo."

Ranboo knows it's meant to be teasing, he does, but he can't help the brief flash of a terrible memory that crosses his mind.

"...Okay," he shifts his weight nervously. "But... I- I mean, you say that, but the thirtieth time I proposed was- was technically a surprise, and that-"

"That was completely different. Just don't take me to any war monuments this time, and it'll go fine."

"Well, I didn't know it was a war monument," Ranboo guiltily mumbles.

With an inaudible sigh, Ranboo squeezes Tubbo's hand. Holding hands feels almost bare without the rings, like a piece of both of them has been taken away. Running a thumb over the dent in Tubbo's ring finger, Ranboo clears his throat.

"...Um, we could do it this weekend, if you want? That'll give- If we do it on Saturday, that gives two days for the divorce to- to 'count', I guess."

Tubbo startles when he hears Ranboo speak, blinking like he's been snapped out of something. He gets his bearings again before Ranboo can worry. "Sounds fine to me, bossman. It'll take me 'till this weekend to refurbish the Hyperloop anyway. Did I ever tell you what I'm doing with it, by the way?"

"No, I don't think so... What have you got planned?" Ranboo rests
his chin in his palm.

Tubbo huffs. Crossing his legs, he turns to face Ranboo, eyes alight. "Well, first thing's first, I'm putting up a goddamn sign about how the tunnel works, so that maybe people won't keep getting themselves stuck and then punching through the glass like a fucking degenerate-"

"Aw," Ranboo mopes. "Can I really not punch through the glass anymore? I like doin' that."

"Yeah, well, you get to keep the glass afterwards, Mr. Silk Touch," Tubbo pokes at Ranboo's chest, keeping up his frown while struggling to hold back the fondness in his voice. "When you do it, it makes a little bit more sense. I guess.

"Oh, I don't do it to get the glass," Ranboo grins down at him, tilting his head.

"You do it just to piss me off, then?"

"Mhmm, I sure do."

Tubbo's entire demeanor flips like a switch, melting into a smile so genuine and loving that it makes Ranboo's breath catch.

"I'm going to kill you one day," Tubbo murmurs. "Genuinely, I am. I'll hide the body well and everything."

Ranboo can't help his breathy laugh. "Sounds like someone doesn't want to be proposed to," he taunts.

Tubbo grasps at his arm. "No, I didn't mean it, Ranboo. I'm sorry, Ranboo, I'm sorry!"

Ranboo laughs at him, wheezing until his face scrunches up, relishing in his inability to repress his own smile. He goes to respond to keep the bit going, but Tubbo knits his brows and tugs on his sleeve before he's able, employing his puppy dog eyes in a way that's entirely unfair.

"Please propose again," Tubbo asks him, and it's probably meant to be a bit, but it comes out sounding completely sincere.

"Um, I mean, yeah," Ranboo stammers, struggling to tear his gaze away from Tubbo's. "Yeah, I'll- um. You- You, like, you said this weekend sounded good?"

"Yeah, that sounds fine, I reckon," Tubbo shakes himself off. "I mean, it's not really my first choice for how to spend a Saturday, but, y'know,"

"Aw, why am I not your first choice for how to spend a Saturday?" Ranboo whines.

"You're just boring," shrugs Tubbo. "Always in your suit, and always writing poetry or whatever in your book. I think we should call you boring-boo."

Ranboo narrows his eyes. "...I think you have a skewed perception of what makes a person boring, Tubbo."

"Mm, fairs. But seriously, try and wear something less boring when you propose to me, Ranboo, god damn. Have a little class, bossman."

Ranboo can only stammer in response, spluttering around his own words as Tubbo giggles at him.

"Wh- I- Have a little- Tubbo, you- You proposed to me in a mud pit last week."

"Oi," Tubbo elbows him, fixing him with a serious glare. "You were having fun in that mud pit and you know it. Don't even try and deny."

The eye contact is half-sarcastic, but Tubbo is just barely smiling, and Tubbo's eyes always feel a little bit like a lightning strike to him, anyway.

"Yeah, okay," Ranboo concedes, electing to look away before his heart catches fire. "It was kind of fun. I mean, Michael liked it, at least."

"Damn right he did," Tubbo puffs his chest out. "If I'm gonna be honest, Ranboo, I dunno if you can top the mud pit. I simply don't know if it's possible."

"Hmm, maybe not, maybe not," Ranboo muses.

The mud pit was fun, really, the three of them getting into their swimsuits and enjoying the closest thing to a beach day they could have without risking any burns. It had been a busy week, as well, so he supposes he can forgive Tubbo for being a bit off his game.

Honestly, Ranboo knows it wouldn't be the end of the world if this proposal ended up falling flat. After all, they aren't really divorced; They're still husbands in all but title. If Ranboo really couldn't think of anything, they could technically just sign a form and move right along to Tubbo's upcoming proposal.

But there's really no point in divorcing in the first place if not to one-up each other with ridiculous and flashy proposals to embarrass each other, and Ranboo doesn’t want their earlier argument to go to waste. Even if Tubbo would realistically be content with a stack and a half of diamonds and a promise to do their laundry for a week, Ranboo swears to himself that he'll think of something better, even if it isn't able to top the mud pit.

(Surely Ranboo can top the mud pit, though. Surely.)

"Well, I mean, what- what do you think?” Ranboo asks. “What would it take to top the mud pit?"

"Hmm..." Tubbo chews his lip, eyes glossing over as he stares ahead into the dark of night. "...Let me think."

"Mkay, mkay," Ranboo runs a thumb over the back of Tubbo's hand. "I mean, y'know, don't hurt yourself, Tubbo-"

"Piss off," Tubbo smiles.

Ranboo only hums at him in response, taking the pause in conversation to search the sky for any stars beginning to appear. It certainly seems dark enough for them, but the moon is just barely over the horizon line, so Ranboo isn't sure how much longer they'll have to wait for all of them to appear.

Not that he minds the wait, especially with the company.

Next to him, Tubbo has his free hand brought to his mouth, absent-mindedly warming it with puffs of hot air. He's bathed in the barely-there light from the moon and the street lamps far below them, brow furrowed and one eye slightly closed, and Ranboo can see the cogs in his head turning a mile a minute.

It's nice to see him thinking so hard, because it means he's too far in his own head to catch Ranboo staring. And Ranboo doesn't mean to stare, really, but watching Tubbo think is amazing sometimes. Seeing him mouth to himself and scribble out chicken scratch notes and start sparking wires together, Ranboo thinks he could probably take over the world.

Tubbo's brow quirks as he stops short in his hand-warming, and the pinkie finger of the hand Ranboo is holding twitches.

Tubbo cocks his head to the side, offering Ranboo a smile.

"I want a greenhouse," Tubbo tells him.

"M'kay, so you- I- Wait, hang on, I- I'm sorry..." Ranboo shakes his head. "Like- like a greenhouse? Like, you mean like an actual-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Tubbo nods, still grinning. "I mean like, a huge fuck-off glass house with plants in it n' shit. 'Cause if it's heated, I can grow basically whatever I want in there, and it will be awesome."

"Mkay, alright," Ranboo nods along. "And, um, there's nothing- Y'know, nothing that's maybe smaller that you might want instead? You wouldn't prefer, like, a necklace or something?"

Tubbo frowns at him, scooting himself closer, fluttering his lashes and placing his other hand on Ranboo's and still lit up by the light of the moon.

"Well, I mean, I was kind of under the impression that you love me?"

"I- I do!"

"Right," Tubbo cocks his head, eyes wide and loving and probably the bluest thing Ranboo has ever seen, tracing the back of his hand gently. "So, I mean... You'd do anything for me, then, yeah?"

Of course, he almost says on impulse. Of course I'd do anything.

But Tubbo's mask slips, then, if only for a millisecond. His eyes flicker in a mischievous sort of way before he goes back to the loving husband routine, and Ranboo's eyes immediately narrow.

He untangles his hands from Tubbo's and takes a suspicious scoot away from him. "...This isn't fair."

Immediately, Tubbo bursts into fake, exaggerated tears. "I just want to grow my fuckin' tomato plants without them wilting, Ranboo! Is that so much for me to ask for!"

"Well, honestly, yeah. It- it kind of is, actually."

Tubbo bites the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options. "...I'll say no if I don't get one."

It's a bluff and they both know it. They haven't been divorced longer than a week since the first proposal, and they both know they'd never last any longer without missing the company.

Ranboo tilts his head, taking Tubbo's hand back into his own.

"No, I don't- I mean, I really don't think you will say no," he taunts, slipping Tubbo's ring out of his pocket.

"I think that if I- If I took this ring," Ranboo poises to slide it on Tubbo's finger, "And I said, 'Tubbo, you know that I love you, more than anything in the-'"

"Okay, Jesus, I get it! Fuck off!" Tubbo rips himself away from Ranboo's grasp.

Ranboo can't help but laugh at him, though he's careful not to drop the ring as he tilts his head back. There are no stars out so far tonight, but Ranboo swears he can see them twinkling just for a moment when Tubbo's laughter begins to mingle with his own.

Tubbo frowns bitterly at him when he looks back down. Ranboo offers him a toothy grin, and Tubbo's smile slips back through the cracks, making Ranboo giggle at him again.

"You're gonna get your cringe all over me, Ranboo," Tubbo accuses with a scoff. "You'll- You're gonna infect me with cooties, and then my head'll explode."

"Wh- that doesn't- if- if cooties make your head explode, and I have them, then how hasn't my head exploded yet, hmm?"

"It affects endermen differently, Ranboo," Tubbo shrugs. "Like, so differently. You don't even know."

Ranboo thinks he might have had a response to that, but when Tubbo leans against his shoulder, Ranboo's mind blanks completely.

"Mm. I guess I don't."

Tubbo's hair is soft, Ranboo notes for the millionth time as it brushes against his face. Tubbo has soft hair and warm hands, and his laughter is Ranboo's favorite sound, and Ranboo still has no idea how he lucked out enough to get to spend forever with him.

Ranboo opens his mouth to embarrass himself again, but before he's able, Tubbo beats him to it.

"...I do love you too, though," Tubbo reminds him quietly, face angled toward the ground. "And your cooties, and your boring suit, and all your... All your bullshit."

Ranboo hums into his hair. "I know you do."

"Good," Tubbo slumps further against his shoulder, voice turning hoarse with apparent exhaustion. "Now that I've said the thing, can you carry me in? M'sleepy, Ranboo."

"What if I said no?" Ranboo asks, though he's already moving to gather Tubbo into his arms. "What- What if I said no, and I just left you out here to freeze? What then?"

Ranboo hoists Tubbo up into a bridal carry, nearly slipping on the ice and sending them both tumbling. Tubbo doesn't react.

When Ranboo glances down at him, Tubbo's smile is blinding, affectionate and soft and sweet enough for Ranboo to spend hours searing into his mind.

"You would never."

"Yeah," Ranboo sighs, taking the steps slowly so he doesn't jostle his husband too much. "Yeah, you're right. I wouldn't."

All things considered, Tubbo is pretty damn proud of the Hyperloop tunnel.

After all, it is a bit of a feat of modern engineering. It was meant to be longer, sure, and it requires a specific enchantment to work properly, but overall he thinks it's pretty cool - especially because he designed and built it himself.

While not his absolute favorite project, the Hyperloop is still one of Tubbo's babies. Which makes it all the more frustrating to see it so frequently broken.

Tubbo sits in his workshop, drafting up plans for a kiln to harden several stacks of glass at once. It'll be a hard machine to make, especially with Snowchester's disagreeably cold climate, but Tubbo has got his mind set on it already, so it's really only a matter of time.

Tubbo is just mentally running the numbers for how much sand he'll need when he gets a knock at the workshop's door.

"Come in!" He calls, though not fully tearing himself from his blueprints.

Tubbo is expecting to hear Ranboo approaching behind him, maybe softly asking him if he's up for a break or haphazardly launching into a rant about something that happened to him that day.

What comes instead is a shrill cry of "Lunchtime!"

Tubbo is out of his chair in a second. Instinctively, he takes a knee and prepares to catch Michael in his arms.

Predictably, Michael jumps into him, hugging him tight as he babbles on.

"Lunchtime, lunchtime, Bee! We bringed us all a sandwich!"

"Aw, did you really?" Tubbo lays his disbelief on thick, acting like he can't believe what Michael's telling him as he pulls away from the hug. "We all get our very own sandwich?"

"Mhm, mhm," Michael nods. "We maked all three, and got carrot sticks too!"

"Sounds like a pretty good lunch to me," Tubbo nods. "Where are we eating, little man?"

"Well," Ranboo starts, and for the first time since he's come in, Tubbo gets a good look at him. He looks impossibly tall from where Tubbo is seated on the floor, eyes glowing softly and tail flicking behind him. Ranboo's all bundled up today, wearing a scarf and mittens and even a beanie that makes his hair look really nice, although Tubbo is sure that's not intentional.

"It's- I mean, I don't know if you've been outside much today, but it's not pretty. Lots of, um, sleet, and all of that."

"That'd explain the beanie," Tubbo teases him. "You look like a dork."

And he does, really. Ranboo's now purple-tinted ears poke out at an odd angle, and the beanie has a large puffball on the back that begs Tubbo to rip the whole beanie off his head later.

"Hey, excuse you," Ranboo scoffs at him. "I'll have you know that I am matching with Michael right now."

"Mhm!" Michael nods, excitedly running to Ranboo's picnic basket and grabbing his own beanie from inside it. "Mine- Um, Boo got a purple one, and mine's yellow!"

Ranboo is shooting Tubbo a smug sort of look, eyes dancing like he's got him cornered, but Tubbo doesn't budge.

"It looks better on Michael," he grins.

Ranboo snorts. "We're gonna eat in your workshop, okay? We won't touch anything... I mean, y'know, unless it looks interesting."

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," Tubbo stands. "And I don't know if that's the best idea, Ranboo. I mean, I don't exactly have many places to sit in here, if you know what I mean. Usually it's just me, so I really only need the one chair."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Ranboo waves him off, puffing his chest out confidently. "I brought just the thing."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"You'll have to just wait and-"

"We got a big blanket!" Michael helpfully chimes in. "To- All of us to sit on!"

"Yeah, it's a blanket," Ranboo sighs in a defeated sort of way.

Tubbo shakes his head fondly as Ranboo spreads it out for them, absent-mindedly thumping at the puffball on Michael's beanie.

"This is kind of ridiculous," Tubbo notes. "We're like, literally a dozen steps away from the mansion. We have a dining room that cost you at least three days in the mines. Why would we want to eat on the cold, dirty floor?"

"It's atmospheric," Ranboo shrugs, plopping down on the floor. "The cold, dirty floor sets the mood."

"Sets the mood for what?" Tubbo asks as he follows suit.

"For meaningful connection," Ranboo places a hand on his chest in fake sincerity. "It's always the little moments that make life better..."

"Ranboo, I do not feel connected to you right now. Especially not meaning-ly."

"Meaningfully," Ranboo gently corrects, but before he can finish, Michael is scrambling for the basket.

"Carrot stick!" He grabs for them. "Lunchtime!"

"Honestly, you can have all the carrots if you want," Tubbo offers as he presses them into Michael's hands. "We've got plenty at home, and I'm fine with just a sandwich for now."

"Really?" Michael asks excitedly. "Boo want some?

"Nah, I'm good," Ranboo smiles. "Just make sure you eat your sandwich, too, okay?"

"You made him the one he likes, right?" Tubbo asks as he grabs for his own sandwich. "Peanut butter and jelly, with-"

"With strawberry jam, cut into triangles," Ranboo nods. "I know. And yours is tuna salad, even though it's absolutely disgusting."

"Aw, you remembered," Tubbo coos. "You remembered my very favorite sandwich."

"Well, it's- How could I not? I mean, it- it makes your breath smell awful for the whole rest of the day, and- stop looking at me like that!"

Tubbo ceases his eyebrow wiggling to bark out a laugh. Ranboo huffs out a laugh of his own, and Tubbo elects to focus his attention on his food before he gets too giggly.

As much as they joke, it really does mean the world to Tubbo that Ranboo remembers the little things. It's Ranboo's whole thing to not remember, and yet here he is memorizing Tubbo's favorite sandwich and their son's favorite bedtime stories anyway.

He's a good husband and a good father, but above all, he's an excellent friend. As Tubbo zones back in, he finds Ranboo staring, with a secret sort of smile on his face and a completely untouched grilled cheese in his hands.

"Quit fucking staring at me and eat," Tubbo commands through a mouthful of tuna, feeling his cheeks warm. "What the hell is wrong with you."

Ranboo scrunches his nose. "I was just watching to make sure you don't choke, Tubbo, jeez."

"You'd save me if I were choking, wouldn't you, Ranboo?"

"Of course I would."

"Even if I'd just eaten tuna? And I was all, like, breathing in your face and shit while you did the heimlich?"

Ranboo grimaces. "What- Ew, oh my god. Why would you- why would you even point that out?"

"'Cause that's what would happen. Would you save me or not, Ranboo? You're- you're hesitating for too long, I'm starting to get worried."

"Yeah, I- I guess I'd save you, Tubbo. I mean, I don't- I don't even know if I remember the heimlich, but... I'd do my best."

"Aw, thank you," Tubbo chirps, taking another bite of his sandwich. "Y'know what? Maybe our marriage is salvageable."

"Marriage? What marriage?" Ranboo cocks his head. "You and I are currently divorced, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Tubbo draws out as he nods. "We threw our rings into the ocean and everything. Those are literally gone forever now."

"Well, I mean, not really. They're- I've got them right here in my pocket, but I guess you mean-"

"No, like, within the story, they're gone-"

"Yeah, no, narratively speaking they are gone forever," Ranboo agrees.

At the mention of the rings, Michael finally tears himself away from his food for long enough to speak. "Taking rings to eat later, right?"

Tubbo cocks his head. "Sorry, what?"

"Um," Ranboo murmurs, swallowing the last bite of his sandwich. "I just, y'know- I was planning on proposing this weekend, like- Like we talked about."

"Right, yeah," Tubbo agrees, pretending like he hadn't completely forgotten until now. "Sure thing."

"Well, I was thinking I could do it at the restaurant in Las Nevadas, if you're up for that? I already talked to- to Quackity. Um, he doesn't- he's not gonna be there, or anything, but he- he said I was allowed there still, so-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," Tubbo waves his sandwich indignantly, "Hang on."

Ranboo clamps his mouth shut, raising a brow.

"You're not seriously asking me out to dinner like this."

Ranboo blinks. "Um... I'm- I'm not following, I don't think."

"Wh- You're planning to propose to me this weekend, and you're asking me out while I'm sat halfway through a tuna sandwich?"

Ranboo smiles as he starts to catch on. "Well, I-"

"On the cold and dirty floor, Ranboo, really?"

"Yeah, okay, it- it may not have set the mood like I wanted it to, actually," Ranboo chuckles. "And also I'm, like, pretty sure there's a bloodstain right over there near the door."

"Huh?" Michael swivels his head.

"Nothing, it's ketchup," Tubbo doesn't miss a beat. "And you've still got carrots left to eat, don't you?"

"I do!" Michael exclaims as he bites into a carrot, completely abandoning his previous train of thought.

He's making quick work of his carrots, Tubbo notes, though he does seem to be slowly nibbling his sandwich, as well. Tubbo hopes he'll finish it this time, but he isn't going to push. Michael likes his carrots, and he doesn't like some other things, and as far as Tubbo is concerned, that's a perfectly fine way to be.

"You're so good with him," Ranboo praises in a quiet and mushy sort of voice, but Tubbo isn't having it.

"Nope," he chastises. "Don't change the subject. You've gotta fuckin' woo me if you wanna propose to me later this weekend."

"Hmm..." Ranboo works his jaw, getting lost in thought as Tubbo takes the last bite of his sandwich.

"I have to woo you, do I?"

"I mean, c'mon, Ranboo. Bare minimum, at least."

"Now that I can do," Ranboo grins, hopping to his feet. "Don't even worry, hubby, 'bare minimum' is my middle name."

"That's a pretty shit middle name you've got, then. And don't ever call me hubby again, what the hell, you know I hate that shit."

"I am very much aware, yes," Ranboo tells him, losing none of the confidence in his tone as he makes for the door. "I am gonna be right back, and you are gonna agree to go out on Saturday."

"Don't count on it," Tubbo calls after him, but he's really just being difficult for fun. He'd never pass up an opportunity for such good food.

Beside him, Michael is just finishing up with his own food. "Did you eat all of the carrot sticks, bug?"

"Mhm," Michael nods proudly. "Twenty two sticks!"

Tubbo gasps. "Did you and Ranboo count all those before, or did you count them by yourself?"

"By myself!" Michael grins, and Tubbo brings him in for a headlock-hug.

"Aw, Michael, I'm so proud of you! You're gonna be a big numbers guy like me one day, huh?"

Michael lights up. "And I come help you work?"

"Maybe," smiles Tubbo. "We'll see when you're older, I suppose."

Despite the lack of a guarantee, Michael starts to gaze around the workshop in an awestruck sort of way. He looks absolutely entranced by every machine that catches his little eye, and Tubbo has to actively keep from thinking about teaching Michael redstone when he's a bit older, because he knows the mental image will make him cry.

"What do you see that's caught your eye like that, Michael?"

To Tubbo's surprise, Michael points at one of the simplest things in his workshop. It's a simple repeater clock, mostly kept around to remind Tubbo of exactly what it's supposed to look like - there's nothing more frustrating than hitting a roadblock in a complex design only to realize he's screwed up the most basic component.

"That's a repeater clock," Tubbo tells him. "If I turn it on, it'll make that light blink. Want me to show you how it works?"

"Yes, yes, peas!" Michael nods, holding out his arms to be picked up.

Tubbo groans as he hoists Michael onto his hip, drawing a giggle from his son. Though Michael has certainly gotten heavier in the time since his adoption, he still seems to be small for his age, if the piglets they pass in the nether are any indication. In any case, Tubbo reckons he's got at least a few years left before Michael will be too heavy to carry around.

Michael gasps softly as Tubbo approaches the machine. "Shiny," Michael tells him.

"Well, it's sort of dull, really, but whatever. Here, look."

Tubbo flicks the switch, and Michael squeals happily when the light on the machine begins to blink.

"See, it's actually very simple. This torch sends a signal that travels in a circle, all the way round to light it back up once it goes off. And if I flick this, it'll change the speed."

To demonstrate, Tubbo makes the torch blink faster, then slower.

"I try?" Michael reaches out for the repeater. Before he can, Tubbo gently grabs his wrist.

"You can try, but you've got to be real gentle, okay? And don't make it blink too fast, or it'll break."

"Okay," Michael agrees with a serious nod.

Somewhere, the logical part of Tubbo is cringing. Bringing a small child around redstone has historically been a terrible idea, and Tubbo will have no one to blame but himself if Michael causes something to break.

But he can't find it in himself to worry too much. It's his kid, after all.

Michael examines the redstone machine carefully, as if he understands every intricacy of it. He changes the speed reluctantly at first, pulling his hand back like he's been burned after every touch, but slowly gets more confident with experimenting.

Tubbo can see the little cogs in his head turning a mile a minute, and he can't help but grin as Michael explores his first machine. He's going to be a little genius, Tubbo is sure, whether he ends up being interested in redstone or not. Tubbo can't wait to see him grow.

Tubbo is so lost in pride that he barely notices when the machine actually breaks.

He hears Michael cry out before he even sees the torch pop off, the sound automatically causing him to tuck Michael close to his chest and duck for cover. Once he realizes what's happened, though, he only breathes a sigh of relief.

"Sorry," Michael whimpers, sounding on the verge of tears. "Blinky light fell off."

"It's okay, Michael," Tubbo soothes as he grabs the torch from the floor. "It was my fault. I told you not to make it too fast, but I should've shown you what the limit was. It's my bad. Here, I can just fix it."

"Fix?" Michael sniffles. "Not broken?"

"Nope," Tubbo smiles reassuringly at him. "Here, look."

Michael looks baffled as Tubbo simply slots the torch back into place, connecting a few wires and sparking it back to life.

"There, see? Good as new."

"Really? How do?"

"Eh," Tubbo shrugs. "Hooking up the torches is a lesson for another day, I reckon. You can play with the machine a bit more if you want, though."

Michael frowns up at him. "But I breaked it."

"Yeah, but we fixed it, didn't we?" Tubbo cocks his head. "You're gonna break things sometimes, Michael, everyone does. And I reckon you know how to not break it now, anyway, so... Go bananas."

Tubbo's plan to cheer Michael up works flawlessly, a genuine laugh melting the frown from his face. "Go bananas," Michael repeats.

"Yup, go bananas. Are you bananas, Michael?"

"No," Michael laughs, shaking his head. "I'm not a banana!"

Before Tubbo can crack another joke, the pair jump at a loud thumping behind them. Tubbo easily squashes down his routine flash of panic when he realizes it's just Ranboo at the door.

He tuts as he makes his way over, not bothering to put Michael down. "Why's he even knocking, why doesn't he just-"

Ranboo steps inside quickly once the door is open, using one foot to kick it shut behind him. He's got flecks of snow all over him, and his teeth are chattering, face flushed from the chill.

He's also very obviously trying to hide something behind his back, hence why he had no free hands for the door.

"Hey," Ranboo breathes. "I'm back."

"I played-ed with redstone, Boo!" Michael tells him. "Made light blink!"

Ranboo's eyes widen. "Whoa, you- you taught him redstone while I was gone?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I reckon he could build anything he wants to by now. He basically knows everything."

"It's been, like, less than ten minutes."

"He's a fast learner," Tubbo shrugs. "Faster than you, that's for sure."

"Ouch," Ranboo rolls his eyes. "Sorry I didn't split the atom."

"So am I. I bet Michael could."

Tubbo would love to recount every second of Michael's first redstone experience, and he fully plans to do so later, but right now he really feels like seeing whatever Ranboo's got hidden behind him.

"Wanna go play with the light again, bug?" He readjusts Michael's position on his hip. "I promise it's alright."

"Mm-mm," Michael shakes his head. "No more."

"Alright, alright. Well, what about drawing? If I find you a pencil and some paper, does that sound like fun?"

Michael narrows his eyes, doing his best approximation of Ranboo's thinking face. "Um... Okay."

"Okay, then," Tubbo kisses his forehead and lets him down. "Do you wanna go and sit in my chair?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Michael cries as he clambers into it. "Bee chair!"

Tubbo thinks he might regret giving Michael his higher-quality paper later, but right now his kid is bouncing in his swivel chair and giggling to himself, and Tubbo is not about to disappoint him.

"Wow, Michael," Ranboo tells him, "You look very grown up in that chair!"

"Here you go," Tubbo gives him the supplies. "Draw me up some important blueprints, alright, kiddo?"

"Yes sir!" Michael gives him a salute, before grabbing for the pencils and getting to work.

"He is so cute," Ranboo breathes as Tubbo leads him away. "Seriously."

"You should've seen him with that machine. I could've died."

Ranboo whines, a high pitched sort of trill in the back of his throat, the type of sound that Tubbo's vocal cords would never be able to form.

"Why didn't you take a picture?" Ranboo pouts. "I want to see."

"Too busy soaking up the moment, bossman," shrugs Tubbo. "Didn't even think to grab a camera."

"I think you just want to hog him all to yourself," Ranboo narrows his eyes.

Tubbo snorts at him, feeling a slow smile start creeping across his face. Ranboo raises a brow.

"Hog," Tubbo points out. "Get it?"

Ranboo shakes his head, but he's grinning, and suddenly they're both giggling over something so stupid.

The snow on Ranboo has melted without leaving any marks, thankfully, but his hair is still a wreck from the wind, face still flushed from the cold. He's smiling, though, soft and sweet and blinding as a sunbeam, rocking on his heels with his hands still behind his back.

"What have you got?" Tubbo tries leaning around him to see.

Ranboo intervenes, dodging before Tubbo can see. "It's a surprise," he teases, and for some reason his tone of voice makes Tubbo want to hide his face away.

"Well, show me, then," Tubbo tries to demand. But he can hear his own voice, softer than he wanted it to be and dripping with a giddy sort of anticipation, and he can feel the pink in his cheeks, too, which are now starting to ache from his own smile.

Part of him hates that Ranboo gets to see him like this, showing such earnest emotion. It feels unnatural to him, like taking off a set of armor he's had on for half of his life. It's mortifying, acting so silly and sweet, but Tubbo endures, if only for Ranboo's sake.

Ranboo, predictably, looks extremely pleased with himself. His tail is going a bit wild behind him, though he's careful not to knock anything over, and his gentle smile has turned into something toothy and unrestrained.

"Okay," Ranboo hums. "Close your eyes."

Tubbo huffs. "Aw, really, Ranboo? You're not actually gonna make me-"

"So you don't wanna see the surprise, then? That's- I mean, that's fine, Tubbo. I can just take it back-"

"No!" Tubbo draws out the word. "No, please."

"Close your eyes, then," Ranboo tells him, and Tubbo does.

Not for the first or last time, Tubbo quite suddenly rediscovers how much he hates having his eyes closed. He can't watch anyone's back like this, which means he can't protect them, and his hearing isn't what it was before all of the explosions. A time like now would be the perfect opportunity for someone to attack-

"Open them," Tubbo hears, and he doesn't hesitate, squinting as he readjusts to the workshop's lights.

Once he gets a clear picture, he snorts. "Holy shit, Ranboo."

Ranboo bows to him, a bouquet held out in his hands. If it could even be called a bouquet, that is - it's full of nothing but weeds, goldenrod and dandelions and handfuls of clovers carefully arranged to look much lovelier than they should be able to.

"Okay," Ranboo steps out of his bow, "Hear- Just- Just hear me out."

Tubbo crosses his arms, pretending not to be charmed. "I'm listening."

"It's- I promise I looked for better flowers. Seriously, I think I looked over the whole island at least twice for some good ones."

"Really."

"Really!" Ranboo defends. "I looked, I promise, but there just weren't- There just weren't any, um... left."

All at once, things click into place for Tubbo. There weren't any flowers left in Snowchester, meaning...

"You've picked them all," Tubbo realizes, head spinning with a mix of horror and embarrassment and a bubbling thrill in his gut that could make him scream for joy. "You've picked me every flower in Snowchester."

"We can plant more," Ranboo offers. "We'll- I'll get, um, seeds-"

"You'll get fucking seeds, will you?" Tubbo shouts. His attempt at fake anger is one of his weakest to date, coming out more like a cheer, voice cracking with half-laughter.

"I will!" Ranboo matches his energy. "Lots of seeds. And you know what? I think- Honestly, I bet most of them are probably gonna die painfully here. Because it's cold."

It isn't even funny, but Tubbo cackles. "Damn it, man," he wheezes out.

"I'm sorry," Ranboo jokes. "I didn't- I mean, you sort of saw an iceberg of an island where nothing would grow, and said- you thought, 'Finally, home sweet home,' so... Not really much I can do about that one."

"No, no, yeah, that- That makes sense," Tubbo smiles. "It's my fault you've gotten me the shit-est, most uckers bouquet on the entire server."

"I'm glad we're on the same page about this," Ranboo deadpans.

God, Tubbo loves him.

Ranboo presses the not-boquet into Tubbo's chest, taking Tubbo's hand to curl around the base and leaving his own hand on top. Ranboo's hand is soft and freezing cold and he has dirt under his nails, and as Tubbo looks up, Ranboo instinctively tilts his head down to make eye contact.

"Why do we even keep doing shit like this, Boo?" Tubbo murmurs, still harboring a barely-there smile. "Acting like we've never proposed or given each other flowers before. Isn't it gonna get old eventually?"

Ranboo's brow quirks a bit at that, and he studies Tubbo's face like he's really pondering something before he speaks.

"We're gonna get old eventually," Ranboo points out, voice low and affectionate and surely the best sound in the world. "And when we do, I'm still gonna bring you flowers, and you're still gonna leave me little notes in my books, because that's what makes us happy. Making you happy isn't ever going to get old to me, Tubbo."

Tubbo has to shut his eyes as he rolls Ranboo's words around in his head, painting a mental picture of them growing old together. He can't let himself believe it because it isn't safe to, knows that it's stupid to start hoping either of them will make it to thirty; But something about Ranboo's tone made him sound so sure, like he'd been able to gaze into the future and see a crystal clear image of them dancing in the kitchen at sixty-five.

"Okay," Tubbo whispers, because he doesn't know what else to say.

Ranboo trails his thumb across Tubbo's hand, and when Tubbo's eyes flutter open again, Ranboo is already meeting his gaze.

"Go with me to dinner on Saturday," says Ranboo. It isn't a question, it isn't a command. It's a fact, and one Ranboo is sure of.

Tubbo isn't about to argue. "I'm ordering the most expensive thing on that menu," Tubbo coos, like he's saying something heartfelt. "I'm going to bleed you dry in front of everyone there. And I'm still upset I don't have my greenhouse yet"

"I love you too," Ranboo replies, and with that, the dinner date is set.

In the fifty-two times Ranboo has proposed to Tubbo, he's been through quite a few different methods.

Ranboo has proposed at night, at midday, at the break of early morning. He's proposed in grandiose displays of affection, and he's proposed in his pajamas on their living room couch. At one point, early on, he'd proposed without even knowing it, and Tubbo's response of "Alright, I'll marry you" had almost given him a heart attack.

As time goes on, he finds that it only gets easier. He's never short of things to talk about in the proposal, seeing as he discovers a new favorite part of being married practically every day. And despite his natural anxieties, he knows he could never actually disappoint Tubbo - Tubbo will always be content to rest his chin in his palm and stare at Ranboo lovingly while he stutters like a fool.

One way of proposing that Ranboo has yet to try out, though, is the classic ring-in-the-food trick.

But, as they say, there's a first time for everything.

"Psst, Ranboo!" Charlie stage whispers from behind the kitchen door. "I'm ready to assist in your re-marriage!"

As luck would have it, Charlie had been the only member of Las Nevadas free to work the restaurant tonight. Not that Ranboo minds seeing his friend, of course, but he can't help but worry about Charlie's culinary skills.

"Um," Ranboo turns to offer Tubbo a sheepish grin. "Why don't- How- How about you and Michael go ahead and take a seat?"

Tubbo and Michael, like Ranboo himself, are far overdressed for the occasion. Michael has on a dress shirt with suspenders, and the tiniest little bowtie to match, dangerously threatening to melt Ranboo's heart. He's got a colorful bandaid threatening to peel off of his elbow and one of his sneakers is untied, but as far as small children go, Michael is dressed to the nines.

Tubbo, not having wanted to wear a suit, has a dress shirt tucked into the only skirt he owns, tie loosely hanging from his neck. He's wearing his boots, still, the enchanted armor barely peeking out from under the long skirt, yet still clashing with the rest of his outfit. Ranboo thinks it adds to the ensemble, in a way.

"What, is no one gonna seat me?" Tubbo fakes indignation. "I have to seat myself? At a five star restaurant, Ranboo, really?"

"They're- Um, pretty short staffed tonight, I'd say," Ranboo offers as he backs towards the kitchen door.

"Big Q's gonna be hearing about this one," Tubbo warns him, cocking out a hip as Ranboo turns to head into the kitchen.

"Hey, Charlie," Ranboo greets. "You've got- Um- Are you ready for tonight?"

"Yes!" Charlie nods. "I know all about cooking now, Ranboo. I mean, scratch that, I already knew about it! I know how us humans know how to cook from birth, right?"

Charlie winks repeatedly, elbowing Ranboo in the side, coating part of his suit jacket in a sheen of ooze. "Am I right, human friend?"

"Sure," Ranboo offers, voice an octave too high. "But, like, you do know how to cook, right?"

"I know everything Quackity from Las Nevadas taught me," Charlie proudly announces.

Ranboo blinks.

"So... Did he teach you how to cook, or-"

"I'm making soup for an appetizer!" Charlie points to the stove.

Ranboo raises both brows, moving to look into the pot. To his surprise, it looks like a pretty standard soup - he can see a few potatoes, celery, and even some carrots, which he's sure Michael will enjoy.

"Wow, this looks really good, Charlie. I'm impressed."

"Thank you, Ranboo!" Charlie preens. "Now, I understand that we have a very important job to do tonight. For you to get Tubbo from L'Manberg to marry you, you've got to hide the ring in his food, in hopes of catching him completely by surprise, right?"

"Um," Ranboo says. "I mean, yes, basically...? It's- it's more just for fun than actually-"

"Great!" Charlie interrupts. "And you have this important ring with you now, right?"

"Um, yeah," Ranboo pulls it out. "Yeah, it's right here. So, I'm thinking we should probably just-"

Before Ranboo can even register the motion, Charlie has grabbed the engagement ring and dropped it into the boiling pot of soup.

For the briefest of seconds, the two of them stare at the pot in silence as Ranboo's brain catches up to him.

"Charlie!"

Charlie grins. "Yep, that's right! We did it, Ranboo."

"Why would you do that?!"

Charlie frowns, looking totally confused and not at all as panicked as Ranboo thinks he should. "You said the ring needed to go in his food! This is his food, Ranboo!"

"Yeah, but this isn't- !"

Ranboo can see it now. Tubbo sitting at their table, thrilled to see what Ranboo has come up with, only for Ranboo to have to report that his ring has been destroyed in a horrific soup-related incident.

Or worse, Tubbo eating a spoonful of soup and keeling over, face going blue as Ranboo has to perform the heimlich, just like they'd talked about a few days ago-

"Charlie, he'll choke!" Ranboo voices his thoughts.

"Well, that'll- that'll just be another surprise, I think!" Charlie attempts to be reassuring.

Ranboo takes a moment to himself, taking deep and calming breaths the way he learned. Running a hand through his hair - Boy, that didn't take very long to mess up, did it - Ranboo shakes off his panic and claps his hands together.

"We have to get it out."

Ranboo turns to Charlie, but Charlie only puts his hands up in a surrendering motion.

"I- I mean, I can't do it, Ranboo, I'll get my goop in the soup! You don't want goopy soup for your marriage date!"

With a sigh, Ranboo begins rolling up the sleeves of his suit jacket. "Alright, fine. Turn off the stove, okay?"

Charlie clicks off the eye as per Ranboo's request, though it does little to stop the bubbling of the thick broth.

Ranboo takes a breath, steeling himself. "This is for Tubbo," he whispers just to himself. "It's for Tubbo, for our marriage, for Tubbo, for Tubbo..."

The soup burns. Of course it does - regardless of how much of it is made up of water, it's been boiling for God knows how long, and now Ranboo is elbow-deep in the pot feeling blindly around for the engagement ring.

The pain sets in more and more the longer his arm is in the pot, but he isn't about to give up. Not when this is Tubbo's ring, and Tubbo's proposal, and all of this is for Tubbo, ignore the burning and think about how happy he's going to be...

Ranboo gasps as he feels something smooth and circular brush his fingertips. "I found it, I found it!"

Ranboo is just barely able to grab hold of the ring, but as soon as he's got it hooked on his pinky, he yanks his hand out of the pot, gasping in relief.

"Hooray!" Charlie cheers. "Now we can put it in a different food and save your marriage!"

Placing the ring gently on a nearby table, Ranboo immediately rushes for the paper towels. He cleans off his arm to the best of his ability, but he can only use a very slight amount of water to help, especially considering he doesn't have his armor on.

In the end, his suit is mostly clean, but he has sauce under his nails and a few minor burns on the side of his hand and fingertips. It's not ideal, but the date can still go as planned, with a bit of adjustment.

"Charlie," Ranboo instructs. "I'm gonna go check on Tubbo and Michael. You grab the menus and come take our order, and then we'll just put the ring in whatever Tubbo orders, okay?"

"Okay, Ranboo," he agrees easily. "But what about the soup? When are you gonna eat it?"

Ranboo narrows his eyes. "Wh- Never, I- I just had my whole hand in there, man."

"But you didn't get any goop in it? I thought that was the whole point."

Ranboo eyes the soup wearily, before gently taking Charlie by the shoulders.

"Don't eat food that people have stuck their arms in."

"Alright," Charlie surrenders. "If you wanna waste the food, that's fine, Ranboo. But I know Quackity is gonna want me to put it on your bill anyway."

"That's fine," Ranboo sighs, doing his best to readjust his tie and comb through his hair a bit. "Just meet me at the table soon, alright?"

Charlie only offers him a nod and a hum in affirmation as he sets off to carry the pit towards the dumpster, looking absolutely miserable.

And, okay, maybe Ranboo feels a little bit bad about that. But he's paying for it, and it's kind of Charlie's fault, and he's sure that when the guilt gets the best of him in a day or so, he'll come back to the restaurant and pay Charlie to make them both a bowl, tipping him generously.

He can hear Tubbo and Michael giggling to themselves before he even turns the corner. Sure enough, they sit with smiles on their faces, Michael kicking his feet excitedly. He's got one napkin in his lap and another tucked into his shirt, and he's watching mesmerized as Tubbo runs his finger around the rim of an empty glass, creating a melodic sort of hum.

Michael is too enraptured by the glass to even notice Ranboo's arrival until he pulls out a chair. Alerted by the noise, Michael lights up at the sight of him.

"Boo!"

"Hi, Michael," Ranboo coos.

"Bee did- his cup sounded magic!" Michael tells him. "He- his finger made music!"

Tubbo smiles. "Hear that? I'm magic, Ranboo. I've got magic now."

"Really," Ranboo pretends to be impressed. "Wow. You learned magic in the ten minutes I was gone?"

"Only 'cause I had nothing to do, since you abandoned us," Tubbo crosses his arms. "You've got pretty awful manners, Ranboo."

"Yeah!" Michael chimes in, copying Tubbo's crossed arms with a huff.

"Oh, come- I- I did not abandon you," Ranboo bargains. "I was just- I just had to set something up."

Tubbo brightens immediately. "Did you? Like what?"

"Like none of your business," Ranboo teases. "I mean, you wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, Tubbo, c'mon."

"I literally would," Tubbo deadpans. "Like, I literally- I don't care."

Before Ranboo can respond to that, Michael tugs on the sleeve of his jacket, leaning in conspiratorially.

"What surprise?" Michael whispers in Ranboo's ear once he leans down. "Tell me!"

Ranboo pulls back to give him a serious look. "I dunno, Michael," he murmurs, "Do you pinkie promise me you won't tell?"

Michael links their pinkies together, shaking them up and down vigorously. "Of course, bossman!" He whisper-shouts, sounding practically identical to Tubbo.

Ranboo couldn't control his grin if he tried. Michael reminds him so much of Tubbo sometimes, kind and easygoing and so clever, and it only makes him love them both more.

Ranboo makes a big show of cupping his hands around Michael's floppy ear, making sure to maintain eye contact with Tubbo the whole while.

"I'm putting the ring in his food, remember?" Ranboo whispers. "It's a surprise proposal."

Michael pulls away, tilting his head in confusion. "For why?"

Ranboo considers explaining the whole ordeal, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that it'd be difficult to explain to another adult, much less a child.

Instead, he settles on a simple shrug. "For fun. It'll make him happy."

That seems to be more than enough to placate Michael. "Alright, then."

Predictably, Michael immediately turns to Tubbo. "Bee," he whispers. "Psst!"

Tubbo leans in close. "Yeah? What is it, Michael?"

"I know something," Michael whispers back. Ranboo can tell how hard he's trying to be quiet, but Ranboo hears every word without straining. Still, he plays his part, pretending to be distracted by the restaurant's decor so it looks like he isn't listening in.

Tubbo fakes a gasp. "Really? What do you know, Michael?"

Michael giggles. "Can't tell you! Sorry!"

"Oh, but Michael," Tubbo begs him, sticking out his lip in an exaggerated pout. "Michael, I'd like to know, please."

Michael only shakes his head. "Mm-mm! 'S gonna surprise you."

"Aw, but I don't want to be surprised," Tubbo whines. "Come on, Michael, can't you just tell me now?"

"No," Michael draws out the word teasingly. "I can't tell you!"

Tubbo huffs, resting his face in his fist. Ranboo stops with his "not paying attention" charade just in time to see Michael gently place a hand on Tubbo's arm.

"I can't tell you," he grins, "but I know, and you don't."

As Tubbo loudly groans, Ranboo can't help his wheezing laughter, because Michael really does get it all from Tubbo. All except Michael's laugh, which Ranboo notices is a fairly perfect mix of both of them, something he tries not to find too much pride in.

"You're the best, Michael," Ranboo tells him. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Me?" Michael points at himself, faking shy. "Really?"

"Yep, really."

"Yeah, I reckon you're the best," Tubbo agrees. "There's simply nobody better. There just isn't."

Before they can continue on with their praise, Charlie finally arrives with menus - which, truth be told, Ranboo had almost forgotten about.

"Hello!" Charlie greets as he passes them all silverware and menus. "My name is Charlie, I'll be waiting for you today. Can I get started by getting each of you a cool, refreshing drink?"

"Yeah, do you lot serve alcohol here?" Tubbo asks without hesitation.

Ranboo kicks him under the table. After a very brief staring contest, Tubbo backs down.

"Fine," he grumbles. "I'll have water with lemon."

"Okay, great!" Charlie scribbles on his pad of paper for far longer than it should take to write down Tubbo's drink order - in fact, it doesn't look like he's writing actual words at all - but eventually he finishes up and turns to Michael.

Michael looks surprised at first, but before either of his parents can jump in, Ranboo's heart swells with pride to watch his baby order for himself for the first time.

"One juice," Michael shyly requests. "And ice in it."

"Apple juice is fine," Ranboo informs Charlie as Tubbo quietly praises Michael. "With a lid, please. And I'll just have a glass of milk."

Tubbo's expression sours immediately, though he waits for Charlie to head off before voicing his disgust. "You're fucking joking."

"Nope," Ranboo smiles. "Not joking. I'm gonna drink a tall, cool glass of milk with my expensive dinner, Tubbo. Maybe I'll even order some lobster to go with it."

Tubbo fakes several gags, which sends Michael into a giggling fit.

Ranboo opens his mouth to gross him out further, but Tubbo raises a hand. "Sorry, do you, like, want to be sleeping on the couch tonight, or...?"

"We have spare bedrooms I could use," Ranboo weakly retorts, but he doesn't push it any further.

"You'd let me sleep in your room, wouldn't you, Michael?" Ranboo turns to him.

To his surprise, Michael looks not excited, but apprehensive. "Um," Michael says slowly, "I dunno, Boo..."

Tubbo barks out a laugh, raising his hand for a high five. "Hell yeah, Michael, you tell him!"

Ranboo whines, though he's sure to make it clear he's only joking. "Michael! I told you a secret!"

"It's because you snore," Tubbo jokes. "And, like, weird snoring, too. It's all enderman-y."

Ranboo scoffs. "Okay, wow, that- that is just- that is just extremely problematic of you, actually. That- I can't even believe you just said that to me."

"Aw, come on, Ranboo," Tubbo places his feet on top of Ranboo's under the table. "You know I don't mean it, surely. I love it when you do weird enderman shit. Remember when I gave you that can to open last week, and you used your pointy teeth?"

"No," Ranboo complains without any heat behind it, "I remember when I handed you a can opener, but you begged me to try and open it with my teeth instead. And- And, Tubbo, I really only made, like, a tiny hole in it. It isn't like I bit the whole top off, it was more- it was more like a small gash."

In response, Tubbo sighs dreamily, voice airy and light. "Yeah, you ripped it right the fuck open. God, just imagine what you could do to a shield if you wanted to… Or, like, a bank vault. We should rob a bank."

Ranboo shakes his head, struggling not to entertain the idea of a bank heist. "And- and you try and call me out for flirting."

"First of all," Tubbo lightly kicks at his shin, "When I do it, it's 'flerting', with an E, 'cause I'm only joking about it. I can tell by the way you said it that you spelled it wrong in your head."

"Right, of course," Ranboo grumbles, but he's still smiling.

"Secondly, though, I reckon you're right. That was- that was a bit unbecoming of me, Ranboo, so I've decided- I think I've decided I'll just never compliment you again."

"Okay," Ranboo says, clocking the lie a mile away. "We'll see how long that lasts."

"Well," Tubbo's voice raises, as if he's really pondering something. "I suppose I might be able to think up a few more compliments... If we ever got around to building me that greenhouse. Compliments like 'Wow, Ranboo, you are so good at telling people to build me things.'"

Ranboo huffs out a laugh. "You're- You're really still on that greenhouse thing, huh."

"I'll get it eventually."

Ranboo doesn't bother to argue. He only rolls his eyes, though he's still got an infectious smile he can't get rid of, and turns to look at his menu.

Luckily, Michael's came with crayons that seem to be occupying him, but there's still the issue of what Tubbo will be ordering. Ranboo doesn't know what he's going to do if it's something he can't put a ring in - what if after all this, Tubbo ends up ordering the same soup Ranboo just ruined?

Before he can worry too much about it, Charlie is back to hand them their drinks, though distinctly lacking the notepad he had previously. "Are we all ready to order?"

"Um, I'll have whatever this is, please." Tubbo turns the menu to Charlie, pointing at one of the pictures. "It looks delicious."

"Okay, sounds good," Charlie agrees, though he writes nothing down. "And you, sir?"

Michael, who looks distinctly pleased to have been called "sir", politely folds his menu the way he'd seen the adults do it. "A mashed potato, and, um... And a carrot, peas."

"Okay, okay," Charlie nods. "Is multiple carrots okay, sir?"

Michael thinks on that for a moment, but eventually nods. "Yes, tank you."

"Okay, great. And for you?"

"Um," Ranboo replies, realizing he's completely forgotten to pick out an order. "I'll just have, you know, the uh... Uh."

"Yeah?" Tubbo raises a brow. "You're having the 'Uh', then, are you?"

"What- What does the, um, the chef recommend?" Ranboo attempts.

"Well, I've got a pretty killer soup already prepared-"

"Charlie."

"Or you could have the Las Nevadas signature fish tacos."

"That sounds fine," Ranboo agrees. "Yeah, that's- that's cool with me."

"Alright, great! Your food will be out soon-"

"Um, I'll- I'll go ahead and just- just come back to the kitchen with you," Ranboo butts in, "If you don't mind. Just to, y'know, um... Y'know."

Ranboo glances over at Tubbo, who looks unimpressed. "And this whole plan you've got goin' on is somehow easier than building a greenhouse."

"I'll be right back," Ranboo says instead of answering him, and with that he drags Charlie back into the kitchen.

"Okay," Ranboo claps his hands once they reach the back. "What did Tubbo order?"

"Um, I think he pointed at this thing, over in the top-right?" Charlie grabs the menu to show Ranboo.

The top-right of the menu happens to be the seafood section, and luckily for Ranboo, Charlie's finger rests just under a photo of twelve oysters arranged on a platter.

"This- this is perfect, actually! That's- that's awesome!" Ranboo laughs in breathy surprise.

Charlie frowns. "It's awesome that Tubbo is gonna eat those weird rocks?"

"No, it- What? No," Ranboo shakes his head. "Those are oysters, they're like... Oh boy, um... Mollusks, maybe?"

"What's a mollusk?"

Ranboo blinks. "Um... I dunno, they're... They live- they live in the ocean, and..."

Ranboo may not have the best memory, but surely he knows what an oyster is. It's a sea creature, and it has a shell, and...

He's got nothing.

"W-well, the point is, that it's the perfect food to stick a ring into."

Charlie brightens. "Oh, is it? That sounds fun. I can put your ring right in the weird goop inside that shell!"

Frowning, Ranboo squints at the picture. "Ew, yeah, why- why is it... Why would Tubbo even order that?"

"Maybe he's never had them before," Charlie offers. "Maybe he's trying his first mollusk. He might feel safer trying new things if he's around people he trusts, like you."

"Yeah, maybe,” Ranboo blinks in surprise, but he quickly moves on. "Um- Well, anyway, here."

Ranboo goes to hand the ring to Charlie, but seeing the green ooze that endlessly drips from Charlie's fingers, he opts to place it in a dish towel instead.

"There- there's the ring. Just go ahead and make the oysters and bring them out, and then you can just- You can come make the food for me and Michael after."

"You got it, Ranboo," Charlie agrees, gently picking up the dish towel. "But I expect a pretty good tip! Quackity says I deserve thirty percent!"

"Thirty- Well, dang, he must think you're a pretty good waiter."

"He says I need to know my worth."

Taking A moment to regard him, Ranboo smiles. "Charlie, if we can actually pull this off, I'll tip you fifty percent. That sound good?"

"You know that's more than thirty percent, right?"

"Mhm," Ranboo nods. "I think you deserve it. If the proposal goes well."

With a new sort of spark dancing in his eyes, Charlie grins. "It's gonna go great, Ranboo. Now get back out there and leave me to figure out how to cook an oyster!"

Ranboo isn't actually sure if you cook them. Maybe you eat them raw? Or maybe they're boiled? He has no idea.

He considers asking Tubbo why he'd even ordered something so strange, but he's immediately distracted once he reaches the table, having to divert his full brainpower to take in the scene.

Michael's paper children's menu is in the center of the table, with all the drinks and silverware being pushed to one corner of the table and abandoned. Michael himself is practically laying on his stomach, draped across the tabletop to better reach the diagram Tubbo is drawing out.

"...came in through this way, then we'd use the back door, right, Michael?"

"Yeah," Michael nods, though he shrinks back a bit once he notices Ranboo arrive.

"Hi," Ranboo cautiously speaks up as he retakes his seat.

"Hello," Tubbo nonchalantly replies. "How are you? How's things?"

"Things are good, things are good," Ranboo nods awkwardly. "What, um- I mean, y'know, what's up with you?"

"Oh, nothing."

Tubbo's expression shifts to something devilish, only for a second, before returning to his default wide eyes. "Nothing going on, really."

Ranboo narrows his eyes. After a brief moment of eye contact, he snatches the paper away, knowing fully well that Tubbo could have stopped him if he'd wanted.

Once he gets a closer look, he ends up with what looks like a detailed map of the whole restaurant, drawn out in crayon. There are dotted lines and X's drawn out as if planning movements, and Ranboo only just notices that the salt and pepper shakers had been placed on top of the diagrams when he arrived.

After only a few seconds of trying to decipher what he's seeing, he finally sees the title - scrawled at the top in pale blue crayon, "robbery plan."

Ranboo shoots Tubbo a glare. "Tubbo."

"Yes, Ranboo?" Tubbo flutters his lashes. "What is it, and also I missed you when you were gone, and also you look nice."

Ranboo sighs deeply, but a fond smile fights its way onto his face nonetheless. "I was barely gone. I was- And you were gonna- You planned to rob the place without me?"

"No, no, no," Michael waves his hands. "You gotta disc tracking!"

"The d- what?"

"He means 'distraction'," Tubbo explains. "You're distracting Charlie in the corner over there, see?"

Following Tubbo's gaze, Ranboo sees a bottle of hot sauce and a bottle of mustard off to the side, with their labels facing each other.

"Am- am I the mustard?"

"Nope," Tubbo grins, seemingly thrilled to have been asked. "You're the hot sauce. Y'know, 'cause you're so damn hot. And also because I don't really like you most of the time."

"You know what? I- Honestly, I kind of walked into that one," Ranboo admits. "But why is Charlie mustard?"

"Mustard's the first thing I grabbed," Tubbo shrugs. "They're fuckin' condiments, Ranboo, they don't all have a deeper meaning."

Shifting in his seat, the reality of the situation finally starts to sink in for Ranboo.

"I brought you out to dinner," Ranboo points at Tubbo accusingly, though he's obviously joking. "I dressed nice, we dressed Michael nice-"

"I got on my bow tie," Michael helpfully supplies.

"He's got on his bow tie, Tubbo," Ranboo barely contains his laughter. "And you were gonna rob the place and ditch me?"

Tubbo blinks, uninterested. "Yeah, pretty much, bossman."

"I'm hurt," Ranboo deadpans.

"You'll get over it," Tubbo waves him off. "Especially once I make off with all that money. Here, can I- Do you mind if I walk you through what we came up with? Michael had a pretty great idea for disabling the alarm system."

"Okay," Ranboo agrees, but he hardly ends up paying attention.

Ranboo's focus gets drawn more to the paper itself, puzzling out which bits were sketched out by Tubbo and which clumsy details were scribbled in by Michael. He knows he's going to fold up the menu and save it for later, simply because Michael has added an adorable drawing of him and Tubbo in classic burglar outfits holding bags of money, both proudly displaying an evil smile.

Tubbo captures Michael's full attention as he speaks, outlining his plan like it's of grave importance. The remnants of his leadership positions shine as he rambles on, sounding smart and competent in a way that makes Ranboo sure he'd follow him anywhere without question.

His brow is furrowed, though the one on his scarred side doesn't fully move the way it's supposed to, and he moves the salt and pepper shakers back and forth while he speaks. From what Ranboo can tell, he's explaining several different plans for different scenarios, with Michael occasionally adding his own input. Surprisingly, the plan seems more and more likely to actually work the longer Tubbo talks about it.

They'd never do it, Ranboo knows. Tubbo wouldn't ruin the dinner like that, and more importantly, he'd never actually do something like that to Quackity. Still, it's very Tubbo of him, somehow finding a reason to draft up a schematic during a relaxing dinner.

"Only thing about plan G," Tubbo is saying when Ranboo tunes back in, "Is that it won't really work if there's more loot than we're able to carry, especially if I end up having to carry Michael out. But I don't really need all of the money, anyway."

"What's- Why don't you need it all? Why are you- Why are you even robbing the restaurant if you're just gonna leave money behind?"

"Well, it's actually quite simple, Ranboo," Tubbo places his crayon down delicately, folding his hands politely and tilting his head to the side. "I only need enough cash to finance my god damn greenhouse, which isn't even that expensive-"

"Why are you so obsessed with that?" Ranboo laughs. "If- If you wanted me to buy you a greenhouse so bad, why'd you order something so expensive off the menu, huh? How am I supposed to have any money left over?"

"Because it doesn't- I- Wait, hang on. What are you- What?"

Ranboo blinks. "Your order. It's- it was, like, the third most expensive thing they sell."

"Third most-" Tubbo shakes his head in disbelief. "Holy shit. It must be fucking diamond-encrusted then, 'cause it should be, like, maybe twelve iron."

"Twelve iron? Come on, Tubbo," Ranboo raises a brow in disbelief.

"Ranboo, I think you may be getting scammed."

Before Ranboo can argue any further, Charlie emerges from the kitchen doors with a platter balanced in his hand. Ranboo can't help the little flare of excitement that ignites in his chest, trying and failing to keep his tail from lashing too vigorously behind him.

"Look, here comes Charlie. We'll- We can just ask him how much your meal cost."

"Alright," Charlie smiles politely at them when he reaches their table, "Who ordered the oysters?"

Ranboo glances at Tubbo, but Tubbo only sends him a blank stare in response. For a moment the table lapses into silence.

"Um, I- He- Here?" Charlie sets the plate in front of Tubbo, taking off the lid. "Enjoy your meal?"

Ranboo's heart seizes in his chest when his eyes catch in the ring, in the oyster furthest from Tubbo, likely just out of his sight. Tubbo, however, doesn't seem to be focusing on the individual oysters much at all, instead staring at the platter with confusion.

"Sorry, what the fuck is this?" Tubbo asks, voice pitching up at the end.

For a moment, Ranboo is speechless, which leaves the entire table to examine the oysters dumbfounded. Ranboo only finds his voice once he realizes how likely it is for Tubbo to spot the ring if he keeps staring at his plate.

"...Those are literally the oysters. That you ordered."

"I didn't... Order these?" Tubbo knits his brows. "Why- Who the hell would wanna eat oysters? What even are they, like...?"

"I hear they're mollusks," Charlie pipes up.

"Mall cuss," Michael attempts. "Mall husk?"

"Tubbo," Ranboo gets them back on track. "You literally- I literally watched you order these. You pointed at them. The- Charlie, do you have a menu with you?"

Charlie grabs a menu from his apron pocket, and Ranboo turns it around to show Tubbo, pointing at the same photo he'd been shown by Charlie.

"Look, oysters. You pointed at them."

"Oh, I see," Tubbo nods. "I wasn't pointing at the oysters, I was pointing next to them - at the fish and chips, see?"

Sure enough, when Ranboo turns the menu back around, there's an image of a crispy fish sandwich and an order of fries right next to the image of the oysters.

Realizing with a dawning horror that his oyster plan is now defunct, Ranboo barely resists the urge to bang his head on the table.

Tubbo only laughs. "So that's why you thought my meal would be expensive, then! That makes a lot more sense now, lol."

Ranboo looks up to wearily meet his eyes, and Tubbo offers him a soft smile.

"I'm not eating these," Tubbo tells him.

"I know," Ranboo sighs. "Charlie, grab the platter."

"Okay. Do you want me to take out the engagement r-"

"Hey!" Ranboo shouts over him. "Wow, look at the time, it's- It's time to, uh, go back into the kitchen, so- Gosh darn it, we'll be right back."

Michael whines, which Ranboo feels a bit badly about, but he can't exactly abandon his plan this far into it.

"Oh, um- Again?" Tubbo replies. "Try- Just try and hurry back, alright?"

"I will," Ranboo deadpans, not thinking much of it as he tugs Charlie away.

Ranboo runs both hands through his hair nervously when they arrive back in the kitchen. "Okay," he mutters to himself. "Okay, okay, okay, okay... I'll just- We'll just do something different."

"Like what?" Charlie pipes up. "Do you want me to make the sandwich and fries, and just slip the ring on a fry?"

It's not a terrible idea, actually. Ranboo turns to look at him. "How long will that take?"

"Um... Probably another hour or so," Charlie admits. "I'd have to defrost the fish before I can bread and fry it."

"I can't wait that long," Ranboo decides. "It's getting late. I need- we just need to figure out something quick and easy."

"Hmm... What's a food that everyone loves that you can make in a few minutes?" Charlie brainstorms aloud.

Ranboo has serious doubts that they'll end up coming up with a reasonable idea. As much as he loves Charlie, he still doubts his true capabilities as a chef. At the very least, Ranboo doubts his abilities to avoid getting slime all over the food, which...

Immediately, an idea strikes Ranboo like a flash of lightning. It's stupid, but it may be the only chance he has.

"Charlie," Ranboo says just a bit too loud, causing Charlie to startle.

"What- Yeah?"

"...Do you know how to make Jell-O?"

Luckily for Ranboo, Charlie already has some on hand. He explains that he usually makes the Jell-O desserts the night before he serves them, since they take so long to make, and Ranboo sends a prayer of thanks to every god that he believes in as he places the ring on top of the Jell-O and pours another mold on top.

The ring looks silly encased in the Jell-O, floating suspended in a bubbly mess of pink. It really is a stupid idea, but it's done, and according to Charlie it'll only be about twenty minutes more before Tubbo is able to see it.

Ranboo isn't feeling very confident about his plan, seeing as it isn't at all what he originally had in mind, and his disappointment seems to be pretty clear across his features when he sits down, judging by the shift in Tubbo's own demeanor.

"Aw, Ranboo," Tubbo kicks at him gently. "Why do you look all miserable, king?"

Ranboo sighs, placing his face in his palm. He wants to say something, maybe a reassurance, but ends up only shrugging instead.

"Boo all right?" Michael whimpers. "Hurt? Why sad?"

"Aw, I'm okay, Michael," Ranboo soothes him softly. "I'm not hurt, I'm okay, I'm okay."

"Are you?" Tubbo teases him. "You look like you're going through the stages of grief. Are you in denial, Ranboo?"

Ranboo breathes out a half-laugh at that, but he can't stop the nagging feeling that he's made his family sit here bored and hungry while he fumbled plan after plan.

"This is kinda going terribly, I think," Ranboo softly admits.

"Aw, don't say that," Tubbo urges. "I'm having fun!"

"Are you?"

"...Well, actually I'm not, no," he admits. "I've kind of just been sitting here. But I'm sure it'll get fun soon! Probably!"

Ranboo sighs. "I should've taken you back to the mud pit."

"Ranboo, no. We can't double up on the mud pit, or it'll start to lose its charm.""

"The mud pit is more charming than this place."

“Well, that’s not your fault. Not many places can be that charming, it’s just not possible.”

“Mm.”

Now it's Tubbo's turn to sigh, though his sounds more like a huff of frustration as his expression shifts to something more open. "No, I mean... The place is fine, Ranboo. I don't mind. I've just sort of been missing you all night, y'know?"

"...What?"

"You keep leaving," Tubbo murmurs, eyes wide and sad and the most perfect shade of blue. "And I'm sure whatever you're setting up is important, don't get me wrong, but... I'd like to see you, too, y'know?"

Ranboo leans his head back, letting out a slow and sharp breath. It seems he's messed up even more than he originally thought, probably ruining the entire night for everyone involved. Which is typical, really, considering it's Ranboo.

"Hey," Tubbo kicks his shin. "Quit it."

"Quit what?"

"Quit spiraling. I can hear you being mean to yourself from here. It's not the end of the world, Ranboo."

"Do you think this is the worst proposal I've ever done?" Ranboo doesn't miss a beat as he sits back up. "Be honest."

Tubbo splutters. "Well, I mean, you- I don't know how I'm supposed to answer that when you haven't even proposed yet."

"I guess. I just feel like I've already screwed everything up."

"But you haven't, though," Tubbo corrects him. "Ranboo, this is supposed to be fun, remember? I don't care if Charlie comes out with the ring in a pile of dirt or something, I'm still gonna say yes."

"Actually, maybe I should save that idea for later,” Tubbo muses. “You'd probably like a dirt proposal."

Ranboo snorts. "Yeah, maybe- maybe I would. Maybe you should try that after our next divorce."

Tubbo giggles, but after a moment of thought, his expression falls serious once more.

"There doesn't have to be one, y'know."

"...What?"

Tubbo chews his lip. "I mean... I'm- The whole reason we do the divorce-and-remarriage thing is that we think it's fun. So, like... If- if you don't think it's fun anymore, we can just sort of stay married. If- If you want, I mean."

Ranboo's brain kicks back into overdrive, and he chooses his words carefully. "Is that what you want?"

"No," Tubbo shrugs. "I mean, I still think it's fun. But I guess it's kind of- it's either fun for both of us or it's fun for neither of us, if that makes sense. Like, it's not- I won't be enjoying the joke if I know you're not enjoying the joke."

"Right," Ranboo nods. "I get it."

For a moment, he allows himself to think. Is he actually enjoying the re-marriage bit they've been doing? Faking life-ruining arguments, over-planning elaborate and cartoonish proposals, and re-exchanging vows, only to do it all again the next week. Is that really something Ranboo enjoys dedicating his time and energy to?

Almost immediately, the answer comes to him - not from his mind, but from somewhere in his gut, an intuitive message sent straight from his heart to his head.

Yes, duh, of course.

Tubbo's tie is loose around his neck, and his hair is a tangled wreck by this point. He's rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, looking half fancy and half battle-ready and entirely himself, disheveled just slightly enough to be undeniably charming. He's got both elbows on the table as he offers Ranboo a concerned glance, and his eyes are still Ranboo's favorite sight. And maybe Ranboo has flubbed this proposal entirely, and maybe he should've been less ambitious, and maybe the Jell-O is going to taste like garbage.

But that's the fun of it, he thinks. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to make them happy. If Ranboo faceplants when he goes to kneel down, or if he gets tongue-tied when he tries to give his little speech, or if he drops the ring into Tubbo's water - none of that will matter to either of them. Because Ranboo has as many chances at this as he wants, and in the end, more mistakes will just mean a funnier story for them to tell at parties.

"I don't want to stop the bit," Ranboo smiles just barely. "I think it's fun. I... Thank you."

"For what?" Tubbo huffs out a laugh.

"For getting me out of my own head," Ranboo muses, voice soft and sentimental in a way he can't even control. "You're good at that."

"Shut up," Tubbo's cheeks flush pink as he smiles shyly. "I'm not your god damn therapist."

"Good thing, too, or I'd probably- I bet I'd just be super annoying, actually."

"You're already annoying," Tubbo replies affectionately, eyes crinkling and dimples appearing from his smile.

Ranboo smiles back, taking a bit to drink in the moment. After a few seconds he turns to ask Michael which of his parents annoys him more, but finds him barely awake, eyes heavy as he lays his head in his folded arms.

"Aw, are you sleepy, bug?" Ranboo coos. "Ready for bed?"

"Maybe little bit," Michael sleepily mumbles. "But not until surprise."

"It'll happen soon, Michael," Ranboo reassures him. "Don't worry. Charlie will be here any-"

The slamming open of the kitchen door makes Michael snap back to alertness, and it makes both his parents whip their heads towards the noise.

"Happy wedding to you," Charlie sings as he approaches. "Happy wedding to you! Happy wedding dear Las Nevadas paying customers, happy wedding to you!"

"Yay!" Michael claps. "Blow out the candle!"

"What- There's no candle-" Ranboo starts, but Tubbo interrupts by blowing on the table at large, sending Michael into another round of applause.

As Tubbo takes an exaggerated bow, Charlie sets the plate in front of him, backing away to watch from afar.

Tubbo shoots Ranboo a glance, with a slight smirk on his face and something dancing in his eyes, and god Ranboo could die. "Is this finally it, then?"

"Why don't you open it and see?"

"Suit yourself," Tubbo shrugs. Just before lifting the lid, however, he stops himself short.

"...And you're sure you wouldn't rather just get me that greenhouse-"

"Tuberculosis Underscore-Beloved."

"Okay, okay, Jesus Christ," Tubbo laughs. "Alright, fine, here I go."

Taking one last deep breath, Tubbo opens the lid of the dish, revealing his engagement ring suspended in red Jell-O. Charlie grins and Michael applauds, but Tubbo stares completely blankly at the display before him.

Not sure how to proceed, Ranboo stands, moving to get down on one knee.

Before he can make it to the floor, Tubbo cracks. He splutters into a laugh, which soon turns hysterical. Tubbo laughs so hard he throws his head back, repeatedly trying and failing to catch his breath for long enough to speak. Ranboo fears he may fall out of his chair.

It isn't the reaction Ranboo was expecting, but Tubbo's face has gone cherry red and there are tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and his laughter is far too infectious for Ranboo to attempt a frown.

"What- The- I can't- Ranboo," Tubbo gasps out. "You did not- You did not spend- spend all fucking night coming up with- with Jell-O!"

Tubbo wheezes again, hard, and Ranboo stops being able to hold his own laughter at bay. "Your brilliant idea- all this time was just- it was just Jell-O!? Freaking sugar goop?"

"The first couple of plans failed, okay?" Ranboo defends himself through his own wheezing. "I had- I had to improvise a bit."

"Jesus Christ, I'm crying," Tubbo finally calms himself a bit, wiping at his eyes. "This is so god damn funny, Ranboo."

"Well, happy proposal, I guess," Ranboo sarcastically replies.

Tubbo grins at him, still breathless from laughter, and Ranboo swears it's like he's seeing him for the first time again, knows if he tried to speak his tongue would twist itself into a knot, feels like he's falling in love over and over again all in one instant.

"I am not," Tubbo giggles, "Reaching in there to get the ring. You do it."

Ranboo doesn't argue. He tries to roll his sleeves up as best he can, but he still ends up getting the Jell-O everywhere as he reaches in, sending Tubbo into another fit of laughter. The texture is awful, and he loses his grip on the ring several times, which delights everyone watching.

Eventually, he gets the ring in his hands, sticky and uncomfortable as he may be. Ranboo doesn't waste any time, assuming his place on one knee and taking Tubbo's hand in his own, hoping he'll be able to calm his laughter enough to listen to Ranboo's proposal.

"Tubbo," Ranboo tells him, words dripping with sincerity. "Even though I've done this so many times, I'm always so happy to get to- To get- Wh- Why are you still laughing!"

"You've- You fucking- You've got Jell-O chunks on your sleeves, Ranboo, Jesus!" Tubbo exclaims, still giggling uncontrollably. "I can't- Can't take you seriously!"

Ranboo huffs, grinning so wide he fears his face might split. He takes off his suit jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt and shaking his arms off. "There, better?"

"I guess," Tubbo giggles at him. "Maybe- Maybe a little bit."

"Alright, alright," Ranboo kneels down again to take his hand. "Are you able to listen, now?"

"Okay," Tubbo catches his breath. "Okay, I'm- I think I'm good."

Ranboo looks into Tubbo's eyes, and starts again. "Tubbo, you’re my best friend. Being with you makes me feel like-"

Tubbo cuts him off again with a maniacal cackle.

"Why are you still laughing!?" Ranboo demands, though he himself feels just as giddy and delirious as Tubbo looks.

"I don't know!" Tubbo laughs. "I think I'm just happy!"

That hits Ranboo right in the heart, nearly makes him curl up in a ball on the floor. Tubbo's laughter turns from slightly frustrating to entirely enchanting, proof of how happy Ranboo is able to make him, proof that he likes being here and he likes being proposed to and he likes Ranboo, proof that tonight wasn't a failure after all.

"Okay, okay, here," Tubbo clears his throat. "Go ahead, just- Go ahead and propose."

"Really," Ranboo challenges. "Really. I'm really- You're not gonna laugh again?"

"Nope, promise."

"Okay, okay," Ranboo settles in again.

Something about this third try feels different to him, though. He'd been planning on a speech, and had even written a few drafts, but... Well, tonight doesn't seem to be the best for plans. And, anyway, the reminder that he and Tubbo have plenty of time together seems to have temporarily cured him of his long windedness.

"Tubbo, I love you," Ranboo says simply, holding up the ring. "And I want you to marry me again, okay?"

Tubbo beams. "What if I said no? What if I said no, and Michael and I left, and you had to clean up all this Jell-O by yourself. What then?"

Ranboo places the ring on the tip of Tubbo's finger, poised to slide it on but stopping just short, and gazes at him.

"You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't," Tubbo repeats, "You're right."

Tubbo slides his own hand into the ring, maneuvering to lace his fingers with Ranboo's soon after.

"Of course I'll marry you, Ranboo."

Charlie applauds from where he's stood sweeping the floors, and Michael follows suit. Ranboo moves in for a hug, and though Tubbo complains about Ranboo's sticky hands, they fit together like puzzle pieces.

As Ranboo pulls away, he makes for his suit jacket, planning to dig through the pockets for his own engagement ring. His search soon gets derailed by Tubbo, who is examining his own engagement ring like he's never seen it before, pointing out everything he dislikes about it rather loudly.

Just as Ranboo is slipping on his own ring, Charlie approaches him with a small book in hand. "Here you go, Ranboo."

"What's this?" Ranboo asks as he opens it.

"It's your bill. I had to charge you for the soup and the oysters, too, sorry. And you promised me a fifty percent tip, so I added that on for you already!"

"Wait, wait, Charlie," Ranboo shakes his head, "I don't need this yet. We- we've still gotta eat, man."

"It's midnight," Charlie responds.

Ranboo blinks. "What?"

"Yeah, it's midnight. The restaurant is supposed to close at eleven-thirty, but I let you stay longer, because I could tell you were getting really stressed out about the whole thing, so I wanted to help you out and make sure it went well. I'm glad you two had fun, but... It's past closing time."

"Well, what- I don't- What are we- What?"

"Hey, why don't you come back tomorrow?" Charlie offers as he walks off. "I can make you that soup again, and you can actually eat it instead of sticking your arm in it!"

Tubbo's face contorts. "What?"

"I'll tell you later," Ranboo says. "But first, I- We need to... I mean, we can't eat here."

"Oh, come on," Tubbo scoffs, standing from the table and heading to grab Michael. "He's not really gonna kick us out-"

As if on cue, the lights of the dining area slowly begin to shut off, leaving only the faint light from the kitchen and the soft glow of Ranboo's own eyes to illuminate their table.

"Charlie going to sleep?" Michael asks. "Night night!"

"Yeah, something like that," Ranboo murmurs. He leaves the money and the tip on the table, glancing nervously up at Tubbo. "I mean, I guess we... I don't know, I guess... I don't know."

"Mm," Tubbo replies.

Then, he smiles. "So... McPuffy's then, yeah?"

Ranboo's hands stayed sticky and gross long after the Jell-O was gone.

Tubbo should know. He had to hold said sticky hand all the way to the McPuffy's. Not that he didn't enjoy it, of course, but he'd been half worried their hands wouldn't unstick once they got there.

(He thinks it may not be so bad, though, being stuck to Ranboo for a bit. Maybe it would make it easier to dance together, and maybe it would give them an excuse to go off and sit somewhere quiet while they wait for their hands to sweat off the sugar, keeping their fingers snugly interlocked long after they both know they'd be able to pry them apart if they tried.)

The McPuffy's they're in is deserted. Of course it is, considering the late hour, but they'd made it in nonetheless, Ranboo going to place an order while Tubbo took Michael to fill up the ketchup cups - Michael's favorite part.

The cups hadn't helped, in the end. Michael ended up dribbling ketchup on his nice shirt almost as soon as the food arrived, and considering how far past bedtime it was, it had been an impressive feat to coach him out of a tantrum.

Tubbo eyes the stain now, which is starting to brown and crust over despite their attempts to clean him up. It's barely noticeable, honestly, but he knows Ranboo is still going to insist on slicing the shirt up to use for scrap fabric and getting Michael a new one.

Ranboo, despite his distaste for stained clothes, is letting Michael rest against him anyway. If there's one thing worse than a stain, it's a cranky toddler, but Ranboo's side seems to have been suitable enough as a pillow for Michael to drift off, one hand fisted in the fabric of Ranboo's jacket.

Ranboo is gazing down at him now, mouth pulled taut in the sort of half-grimace he gets when he thinks too hard. Without warning, he looks over at Tubbo, brows knit.

"I'm- I don't think I can move," Ranboo whispers. "I- I really just- I really just think I have to stay at this McPuffy's forever, actually."

The fluorescents lights of the McPuffy's make everything look worse, plastic and cheap and exactly the right place to be at two in the morning. The one right above them flickers, and every time it does the glow of Ranboo's eyes fill in the gap, a warm and fuzzy halo around his already drooping eyelids, crinkled at the corners from where he's been smiling all day.

"I'd come visit you," Tubbo tells him, a joking response that comes out like a genuine reassurance, voice low so he doesn't wake Michael. "And I'm sure you'd learn to make the food eventually."

"I already know how to make burgers, though, remember?"

"Oh, is that what those hunks of charcoal on a bun were supposed to be?"

Ranboo snorts, "God," but freezes completely as Michael shifts. He doesn't wake up, only shifts so his face is hidden in the fabric of Ranboo's suit jacket, but Ranboo holds his breath the whole time anyway.

"I'll have you know," Ranboo whispers, and he sounds so silly whispering that Tubbo almost giggles, "That I was employee of the month at the Ranvan."

Tubbo quirks a brow. "Did the Ranvan even last for a month? Feels like the whole thing was over and done with in, like, two weeks."

"Whatever, that's not the point," Ranboo shakes his head. "The point is, if we both- If there was, like, if- I could cook a burger better than you could, essentially, is- is what I'm trying to say."

Tubbo slumps his face onto his fist, forcing his eyes to focus themselves. "Sounds like a challenge. What d'you bet me, then? How many diamonds?"

Ranboo takes pause, narrowing his eyes like he can tell he's made a mistake. Tubbo can't help his eyes from drawing shut during the silence, having to raise his eyebrows just to keep them open, but eventually Ranboo decides, "Nevermind."

Tubbo means to hide his delight and let out a simple huff of air, but instead he lets out one short laugh, one he can feel in his gut, deeper and more gurgly than normal. It's embarrassing to hear himself, but he's too sleepy to care much, and something new has sparked in Ranboo's eyes now anyway.

"Nevermind about what? I want you to say it."

"Say what?" Ranboo plays dumb, still whispering. "Say- Say that I don't want to make a bet with you? Because I'll- I mean, I'll go ahead and say that right now if you want."

Tubbo sits up on his knees. He raises up until he’s practically sitting on the headrest of the booth, borderline standing, glaring down at Ranboo in a way he hopes is challenging despite how tired he is.

"Say that I'm the better chef," Tubbo dares him.

He doesn't know what outcome he's expecting. Maybe that Ranboo will say no, and in response Tubbo will quirk a brow and try to go for his wallet. Maybe he'll pretend he agrees, over-enunciating the words in a robotic sort of way that Tubbo will pretend not to catch, or maybe he'll remind Tubbo of some time he'd messed up a burger and start a whole round of bickering.

He doesn't expect Ranboo to agree with him about it.

Ranboo does, though. He doesn't look intimidated at all, corners of his lips tugging themselves up and twitching just slightly.

"You're the better chef," Ranboo tells him, voice finally above a whisper, hoarse and scratchy from how tired he is. "You'd make a better burger than I would."

"Oh," Tubbo says, “Thank you.”

He means to come up with something else to say, but quickly gets distracted, seeing as Ranboo has reached the point of grogginess that allows him to make eye contact.

Now that they’ve locked eyes Tubbo is practically stuck here, flickering his gaze between the red and the green, completely enthralled. Tubbo hates to stare, really, but he always looks forward to eye contact like this, because Ranboo’s eyes are not normal. They’re weird, borderline unsettling in a way that Tubbo can’t quite place. And he so rarely gets to see them, so often only catches glimpses before Ranboo gets uncomfortable, that he kind of has to take every opportunity that arises to look. They remind him of a snow globe, luminescent flecks dotting the inside of Ranboo’s colored sclera, complimented by the halo of his unnervingly reflective irises. They’re like snow globes that have been all shaken up, or maybe like confetti, or like stars dotting the night sky.

"You should make me dinner for our next proposal," Ranboo muses, drawing Tubbo back into the present. "I mean, since it's your turn and all."

Tubbo frowns at him as he slumps into his own seat, exhaustion weighing him down as he struggles to overcome the fuzziness in his own head. "Two dinner proposals back to back? That doesn't sound very spontaneous."

"I mean, I've been told I'm not a very spontaneous person," Ranboo shrugs.

Tubbo chuckles. "Oh yeah, I did say that."

He picks at the cracked upholstery of the booth, watching his nail rip into the seat, barely resisting the urge to pull out all the unnaturally plastic-y stuffing as he tries to picture the next proposal in his mind. He could always finish up his plans for that gazebo he'd been talking about, set up a table on a warmer day and bring the food out to Ranboo - they could even try ice skating on the lake again, and he could pop the question after falling on his ass, which would be pretty funny...

"...What would I even make for you?" Tubbo quietly pipes up, turning to look at Ranboo.

Ranboo was already looking at him, and looks almost shocked to suddenly be meeting his eyes. "Um, what- I mean, whatever's- Just whatever's, y'know, uh... Good."

They both blink at each other for a moment, brains too slogged down at such a late hour to properly function.

"I- I mean, um... How- Why don't you just surprise me, Tubbo? That- that sounds fine."

"Mm," Tubbo hums into his palm, kicking at Ranboo under the table. "You want me to surprise you, do you?"

"Mhm, I suppose you can," Ranboo replies, face twisting into a smug sort of expression, like he's being generous to afford Tubbo the opportunity.

(Tubbo does feel lucky to have the opportunity. He's still not used to it, waking up and planning family outings instead of plotting out defenses and taking inventory of constantly dwindling supplies. But he is thankful for it all, praising whatever god blessed him with enough dumb luck to be able to put a ring on Ranboo's finger over and over again.)

"I can, can I?" Tubbo repeats back, giving his brain time to catch up, frustrated with the way his thought process is barely chugging along. "Like- More like the sword proposal, or the redstone one?"

Ranboo's face twitches. "Um, the... The- I- The..."

He trails off, eyes falling to the table between them, flickering back and forth frantically like he's scanning his mind for something urgent.

Before he can work himself up, Tubbo steps in. "Hey."

Ranboo glances up at him, not quite able to meet his eyes, and it takes everything in Tubbo not to thumb at the crease in his eyebrows until it melts away.

"D'you want me to remind you about it?" Tubbo keeps his time nonchalant and casual, a charade for both and neither of their sakes, and one that they both know well. "'S a pretty long time ago, and I quite like telling the story, anyway."

"Okay," Ranboo's voice comes out small in a way that nearly makes Tubbo wince.

"Well, one time I proposed with a sword," Tubbo starts. "It- I didn't really know what to do for that proposal, if I'm honest. I was kind of throwing, 'cause it got to, like, two days before I was supposed to do it, and I still had nothing. But then, you- It's- It was when we were in the nether together, right, looting that bastion?"

He looks at Ranboo to see if he's remembering any, but he looks painfully awkward and still a bit lost, though he nods politely anyway.

"...Well, we were looting a bastion. And you- You tripped over a rock, and fell flat on your fucking chest," Tubbo snickers. "And your sword went right into the lava, it was so funny. It- honestly, it was more like a pebble you tripped over, I still don't know how the hell you managed it."

To Tubbo's relief, Ranboo breathes out a quiet laugh of his own. "I mean, yeah, that- that sounds like me."

"Well, I had to protect your ass all the way back home... But once I realized you didn't have a sword, I thought, 'Hey, a sword's just like a ring if you think about it,' y'know?"

"No," Ranboo muses with a contented smile. "I don't- that makes absolutely no sense."

Tubbo elects to ignore this. "So, seeing as they're basically the same thing, I told you not to get another sword, 'cause I knew you'd just go make another for yourself in, like, five seconds or something, and that'd ruin my plan. And I'm pretty sure you knew what I was planning, but you didn't say anything about it if you did, so maybe I am just that good."

"I probably knew."

"Well, I mean... Who's to say?"

"Yeah, that- That's fair, I mean... Who's- I- I bet you're right."

"Right, exactly. Anyway, I made you a netherite sword, and I engraved it, too, it said 'marraige-boo' on it. Except I spelled marriage wrong, but you didn't care. And so instead of proposing like normal, I gave you the sword and then I knelt down and you knighted me, and then we traded rings. It was kind of badass, actually."

"That sounds nice," Ranboo tells him, though his tone sounds far away and dreamy, like he's barely awake. "That sounds really nice."

"It was. And so was the billboard. I- do you remember that one?"

"Mm," Ranboo replies, and there's a beat of silence before he realizes he hasn't actually answered. "No, I mean, um, no. I don't."

"Well, it was pretty simple, really. It was just a big redstone billboard - like the one out front in Las Nevadas?"

"Did it blink?"

"It did, yeah," Tubbo grins. "It looked awesome. I built it to say 'Marry Me' and to flash real pretty. It was a secret, too. I was able to blend it in with a mountain, and then I'd trigger the pistons to move and, like, reveal it."

"Sounds complicated," Ranboo murmurs, eyes now fully closed.

"Eh, it wasn't that bad. At first I had it triggered by pressure plates, but then I got scared someone would get suspicious of the pressure plate and break it, since, y'know - not the best server to leave potential trap triggers lying around."

"Mm."

"So instead I had to get Tommy to trigger the lever when I gave him the signal," Tubbo smiles at the memory. "And he was so pissed off about it, Ranboo. Kept saying I was making him 'waste a perfectly good day' when it- It literally took, like, maybe thirty minutes."

"Tommy," Ranboo chuckles, apparently too sleepy to form any more meaningful commentary than that.

"But, I mean, the redstone worked, and you said yes, of course, so... I reckon it turned out alright."

In the silence that follows his stories, Tubbo suddenly feels an overwhelming inadequacy, and before he can stop himself he's attempting a very casual "Er, sorry."

Ranboo opens an eye. "Sorry? For what?"

"For, um... I dunno, I just... I know I'm not the best at- at telling stories. Not like you are, anyway, so... Sorry if I didn't-"

"No no no no, Tubbo, that- It- It was nice," Ranboo rushes out in concern. "It was, um, really nice to hear, actually."

"Oh," Tubbo says, and suddenly his throat goes all dry. He knows he'll only feel worse if he sits in the quiet again, (because isn't his brain right in saying he'd been fishing for that compliment?) so Tubbo elects to get Ranboo talking again.

"Are- Are there any proposals you do remember?" Tubbo asks.

And then, realizing what he's said, hastily adds on, "No pressure."

"Hmm," Ranboo muses, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Well... I mean, there's- Um, do you remember the one with the chalk?"

Tubbo does, but he'd like to hear it anyway. "Maybe a little bit. Remind me, though?"

Ranboo perks up a bit, just enough to be animated in his storytelling, tail beginning to gently swish back and forth once more.

"So, for one of the proposals - I wanna say maybe... Twenty six? Ah, it doesn't matter. I was- I guess I was feeling kind of artistic, so I decided I was gonna find, like, a huge bit of concrete and- and draw out the proposal in chalk."

"And how'd that work out?" Tubbo asks, though he knows the answer.

"Um, well... As- as it turns out, chalk is not easy to draw with. And- and it takes a lot of it to make the picture look good, and I kept getting, just- Just covered in the chalk dust, and Michael would walk across it and get little footprints in it."

"Cute," Tubbo can't help from calling out.

"It- I mean, it was, but it was also kind of frustrating... But eventually I finished it, and so I- I planned to take you there and show you. And you- At this point you had, like, no idea what my plan was, so I was pretty- feeling pretty confident about it."

Tubbo thinks of chiming in with a quick "That's what you think," even if he knows Ranboo is right, but he decides against it. He doesn't want to interrupt, because sitting slumped over in this booth and listening to Ranboo ramble is starting to feel a lot like a warm hug, somehow.

"So I thought, y'know, 'I'll just go and show him the day after I finish,' because I didn't want it to get messed with, and stuff. But the thing is, that we- When we woke up on the day I was gonna show you, it was cloudy."

Tubbo fakes a gasp, though it's lacking its usual energy. "Oh my god. Not clouds."

"Hey," Ranboo giggles, "You- Tubbo, you know I am very allergic to clouds!"

It's not funny, but Tubbo giggles anyway, tired enough to laugh at anything. "No you're not, Ranboo, you're- Quit- Quit gaslighting me."

"I- I am not- Okay, I'm not allergic to clouds, but I'm allergic to what- to what clouds, um... To what they, like..."

Ranboo blanks, seeming to blank for a word. And Tubbo figures they might both know if it were daytime, but at around one-thirty in the morning, the best he's able to provide is "What the clouds give birth to?"

Ranboo wheezes. "What? What- what the- No,not what the- Jesus!"

Ranboo's laughter is infectious in the best way, causing them both to fall over themselves over a barely-funny joke.

"Why- Why would you even say that?" Ranboo struggles to keep his voice quiet, though it's much higher pitched than normal. "There's- There are better words!"

"Then why couldn't you think of one, huh? Had to rely on me and my dictionary brain, didn't you?"

"That would be a thesaurus," Ranboo finally contains his giggles, "And I think your thesaurus brain is just, like, broken or something."

"How dare you," Tubbo flatly responds. "How- I can't believe this. I am- I am just completely appalled."

"Sorry," Ranboo lies with a smile.

"No, no," Tubbo raises his brows, faking indignance. "I just- I just can't let this slide, Ranboo. I just can't let it slide."

"Oh, yeah?"

Tubbo nods, screwing up his face to look comically pissed off. "Mhm, yeah, yep. I'm- Ranboo, I'm gonna need an apology. Right- I'm gonna need an apology right this instant."

Ranboo heaves a heavy sigh, hanging his head. "Tubbo, I'm so sorry," his words drip with sarcasm. "God... Can- Do you think you can ever forgive me?"

"This is a stupid bit," Tubbo realizes as the fatigue from his animated movements slogs him down. "Go back to the story, please."

"Wh- Uh, okay. I mean, yeah, it- Where- Sorry, where was I?"

"Story of the chalk proposal, when you woke up and saw clouds."

"Right," Ranboo nods. "Well, obviously that sucked for me, because, well, allergies and all of that... But it was even more bad than just that, because, y'know, if it ended up raining, there was a chance the whole chalk drawing would get- Would just get completely washed away."

"Damn."

"Mhm. And so that morning, I was gonna- Was gonna go and, like, try and put some sort of roof over it, but then I remembered I promised you we'd get breakfast before the proposal. And I knew- I- I mean, I couldn't just, like, leave you alone for long enough to go build a roof..."

"I mean, to be fair, you did leave me alone for a good portion of tonight."

"Well, anyway," Ranboo brushes him off. "I was so anxious for, like, the entire breakfast. I kept- kept looking out the window, and just- just freaking out if I thought I heard rain... It was kind of a mess, honestly."

"I remember," Tubbo murmurs, memory fluttering fondly in his chest.

Ranboo smiles, which means Tubbo has probably let his expression slip into something which makes him look a complete fool.

"We got to the chalk without it getting rained on. And you- You kind of scoffed at it, and you said it was- You did call me a dork,"

"A fucking dork, yes," Tubbo corrects.

"Yeah, that... But you still said yes. And so we exchanged rings, and I was able to relax for the first time that day, and- And then about ten minutes later, when we were walking home-"

Tubbo grins at the memory. "It started pouring."

"It started pouring," Ranboo nods. "And we were like, sprinting home, and I was so upset that the chalk was gone before I had gotten a picture of it, but you were just- You were just worried about getting me under a roof before the rain got past my protection enchantments, and... I mean, after that, we made hot chocolate and put in a disc with Michael, and, um... Yeah, it was just... It was just really nice."

It was nice. Tubbo still has a clear memory of it, of hair still damp and a coat drying by the fire, of sipping on lukewarm cocoa and watching Ranboo dance with Michael standing on his feet. He'd had to almost bend in half to reach Michael's hands, and his tail could only do so much to keep their balance, so it ended up being a lot of them toppling over and cackling about it.

Tubbo is just about to speak up and make sure Ranboo remembers these details, but Ranboo's own small voice beats him to it.

"Sorry for not remembering more."

Tubbo blinks, barely-there brain struggling to connect the dots."I- what?"

"For- For not remembering the proposals," Ranboo guiltily explains as he looks down. "Or for remembering, just... Just anything."

"It's all right," Tubbo tells him. "I mean, hey, I remember, like, everything, so... I'll just remind you of what you forget, yeah?"

Ranboo smiles sadly. "I wish you didn't have to."

"Well, what if I like the excuse to spend time reminiscing on things we've done, huh? Then what?"

"Then I'm lucky to have you," Ranboo says, but it kind of feels like he's speaking in slow motion, all fuzzy around the edges, voice more vibration than it is sound.

"Uh," Tubbo whispers. "Um. You... Uh."

"You said you remember all of the proposals, right?"

"Yeah," Tubbo breathes, thankful for the subject change. "Yeah, I- I mean, I reckon I remember most of them, at least. Not- Not every little detail, but... Y'know."

"Mm," Ranboo muses, tail now swishing behind him, eyes gleaming. "Which- Which do you think was your favorite?"

Immediately, the image provides itself to Tubbo. The biting cold of a night in Snowchester, Ranboo wringing his hands, voice barely above a whisper, looking so earnest it's painful, hand trembling violently as it cautiously reaches for Tubbo's, stopping just short, not sure if he's allowed-

Tubbo feels his face flush. "Shut up."

Ranboo grins. "What? What- what's wrong?"

"You know damn well which one my favorite is, Ranboo, don't- Don't act like you don't know."

"I- Tubbo I don't remember!" Ranboo urges, but Tubbo can tell by his shit-eating expression that he remembers perfectly. "You- you have to remind me, because I just- I just don't know, I mean, I- You know I need help remembering sometimes."

It's embarrassing. Overwhelmingly so, in fact. The fact that Ranboo is even looking at him right now is almost too much to bear, threatens to make him fake a trip to the restroom just to get out of here.

But Tubbo is tired. The warm waves of sleep have been creeping up on him for about an hour now, and he's not quite functioning at enough mental capacity to be able to feel the extent of this embarrassment. He doubts he could even stand without his knees wobbling, and he's barely able to form a thought process.

Tubbo is teetering on the edge of delirium, sitting in a fast food joint at nearly two in the morning, across the table from two of his favorite people. Ranboo is laughing, softer than he should need to be, and as Ranboo tilts his head questioningly, Tubbo makes the rare and impulsive decision to tell him the truth.

"It was when you were serious."

Ranboo's voice is barely above a whisper, and his voice cracks. "The... The one on top of your house?"

"Our first few proposals were jokes, Ranboo. We were just messing around, you know. I mean, we were married, sure - on paper it was serious. But we didn't really mean it. Not like... Not like now."

Ranboo swallows, and his expression shifts. He looks like he's drowning, like he's begging himself to remember, and Tubbo really doesn't want to recount it for him, but he'd feel bad leaving him in the dark.

"I think it was the fifth proposal, maybe? You took me up on the roof. And the first few had been silly, so I didn't... I was waiting for something to- To jump out at me, or for you to throw a snowball in my face, or- Or- I dunno, just... Just some nonsense, y'know?"

"But I didn't, did I?" Ranboo croaks.

"You didn't," Tubbo tells him. "You were... You were serious. You- You took my hand for, like, the third time ever, and you were like, 'What if we got married?' And I said, like, 'Yeah, that's sort of the point, bossman,' but you were like 'No, I mean really get married'... And I didn't- I still didn't understand what you... Why you... I didn't get it."

"I didn't get it," Tubbo repeats, smaller this time. He still remembers swearing he'd never tell Ranboo how badly this joke he was playing hurt. Promising himself that he'd go along with whatever joke this was and figure out why it was making him feel sick later. Thinking that he had no idea Ranboo was such a good actor.

"But I had the rings," Ranboo recalls.

"The real rings," Tubbo nods. "Before that we had shitty fake ones, but these..."

He watches as Ranboo thumbs at his own ring, glancing down to take in all the details. Tubbo doesn't need to look at his own - he's got it memorized.

"These were different. That's... When you took out the ring, I- I think what I said was, 'Ranboo, this isn't funny anymore,'" Tubbo chuckles. "And of courses you took that the complete wrong way and almost dropped the damn thing, but, um... Yeah."

Tubbo looks at the ground, suddenly feeling the bashfulness of retelling the story of their real proposal start to creep up his neck.

"But it worked?" Ranboo asks, despite the obvious answer.

"It did," Tubbo forces himself to keep going. "You... You told me you liked me. Not- not in a weird way, just- Just liked being around me. Wanted to be around me for a long time, if- If I'd let you. And that was... When you said that, 'If you'll let me,' I was like 'This guy's fuckin' crazy,' because like... It's- I'd always thought it was more like me convincing you to be around me, not... But I, um... Ob- Obviously, I said okay, because I also... I like- Um, like being.... Around you, too, and all of that. So."

Tubbo has the sudden and completely unwarranted urge to laugh hysterically, or maybe to cry his eyes out. He feels like he's on the verge of both before he hears Ranboo's soft exhale and looks up to see his eyes wide and sparkling.

"I... I said all of that?"

"Well, you said it a lot better than I did," Tubbo mumbles. "Or maybe you didn't, and I made it sound prettier in my head. You're welcome for that, prick."

"Thank you," Ranboo says without pause. "And thank you for remembering. Because I... God, I wish I remembered that, Tubbo."

"Well, you might still remember it later. And if you don't, then, y'know... I'll be here, and all of that."

Truth be told, Tubbo knows Ranboo said a lot more than what he remembers. After all, it had been late, and his head had been spinning, and he'd been half convinced he was going to wake up at any moment. But he remembers being fucking enchanted, remembers mourning for the fact that Ranboo's old town must have lost their best poet when he moved here and not being able to wrap his head around how Ranboo even thinks of all the things he says.

Tubbo's not as good at loving people as Ranboo is, he doesn't think. Tubbo can't write Ranboo a poem, and he doesn't always know what to say when Tommy starts to open up, and he can't always say the right thing to reassure Michael when he's scared. He knows that the correct thing to do is - To comfort, to praise, to reassure, to encourage - but actually stringing the words together in the right order is... It's hard.

Ranboo can do it easily, but he can also fill in Tubbo's gaps. Sure, it took a bit of trial and error, but at this point he's got a pretty good track record with reading between the lines.

With Ranboo, he knows he doesn't have to be a poet, doesn't have to know the exact right way to say what he feels. It's enough for them to sit next to each other on the couch without speaking, or for Tubbo to refill Ranboo's glass before he even notices it's getting low, or for Ranboo to rearrange their cabinets so that things are easier for Tubbo to reach.

Between the two of them, they've figured out a way to say things without words. And Tubbo applies it elsewhere - he learns to cook vegetarian recipes for Michael, he dumps all his excess items into a chest outside Tommy's house labeled 'do not steal', he drops by Wilbur's mailbox once a month to pick up a new book and leave the one he's chosen for Wilbur to read.

It's wonderful, having the time to care. He'd spent just long enough not having the time to care to forget how much he's missed it, but now that Tubbo is able to love again, now that he can freely admit he has attachment to things without worrying about them being ripped away from him... He wouldn't trade it for anything.

Tubbo says it out loud, just to hear it roll off his tongue. "I love you," he says, as if he's proving a point to someone, as if he and Ranboo don't exchange the words a half-dozen times daily.

"I love you too," Ranboo murmurs back.

"Maybe we should take pictures," Tubbo says his thoughts aloud as they come to him, past the point of filtering himself.

"M'kay, m'kay... And- Pictures of what, exactly?"

"Of the proposals," Tubbo explains. "If- You said you were upset you couldn't remember them, so if we- Maybe we should get someone to photograph the next one."

"I like that idea," Ranboo smiles. "Really, Tubbo, that's... That sounds really nice."

"It does, doesn't it?"

"Mhm... And- Hey, while we're at it, why don't we take pictures of the divorces, as well?"

Tubbo barely stops himself from slamming a hand on the table in excitement, instead waving it around stupidly before slapping it over his mouth. "Oh my god, oh my god, Ranboo."

Ranboo looks like he’s stifling a laugh, but Tubbo decides to ignore it. "Yeah?"

"I have got the best idea for our next divorce. I was thinking about this in the shower. Since- So, you go to your syndicate meetings every Thursday, right? Well, what if I, like, burst into one of them, in front of everyone, right? And then-"

"Okay, okay, wait," Ranboo holds up a hand. "Hang- Just hang on."

"Okay, but I'm- I really feel like I'm gonna forget it if I don't get it out soon, bossman."

"I- I get that, and I do wanna hear your idea, but like... Shouldn't we leave?"

It's as if the haze of sleep and comfort has been temporarily broken down. Suddenly Tubbo is no longer forming a cherished memory, he's just sitting in a dingy fast food place, letting his toddler sleep slumped over in a booth when he really should be in bed.

"Oh," Tubbo says, feeling a bit stupid. "Um... I reckon so."

Tubbo tosses their trash away while Ranboo gathers Michael into his arms. Tubbo almost drops the whole tray into the trash can and Michael stirs enough to scare both of them, but they make it out of the McPuffy's alive.

The cold night air hits Tubbo hard. He's used to being in a heavy jacket, so being in his formal wear makes everything feel a bit more chilly by comparison. He heaves a sharp inhale as the wind starts to blow.

"Jesus," he whispers. "Fuck, man."

Ranboo frowns, chirping in a disappointed sort of way. "Aw, I- I can't give you my suit jacket, Tubbo, I'm carrying the baby."

Ranboo's frowny face is comically pathetic, so Tubbo can't help his snort. "Don't worry about it," he waves him off. "It's covered in Jell-O anyway."

"Well, maybe if we hadn't stayed so late, it wouldn't be so cold... I really can't believe we- Why did we even stay in there that long?"

Tubbo shrugs, pulling his sleeves down to cover half his hands and then lacing his fingers with Ranboo's. "I dunno, I was just having fun talking with you, y'know?"

"Oh my god," Ranboo whispers. Tubbo laughs at him.

"Shut up, stop being shocked that I don't hate you. Can I tell you my divorce plan now?"

Ranboo snorts at him. "'I don't hate you, now let's discuss our divorce.' Kind of mixed messages, don't you think?"

"I was under the impression that you enjoy mixed messages," Tubbo raises a brow.

"Fair," Ranboo smiles. "Now tell me your plan to divorce me in front of my friends."

Tubbo does. He outlines every step of it along the journey back home, from his dramatic entrance into the meeting to his use of a stasis chamber to teleport him away once he's wrestled the ring off of Ranboo's finger. Ranboo listens intently, occasionally making suggestions or turning down certain details - Apparently he's not up for Tubbo bringing a pie to throw at him - all the way up to their front door.

Tubbo continues brainstorming while they prepare for bed. Ranboo gets changed while Tubbo gets Michael into his pajamas, and Ranboo reads Michael to sleep while Tubbo changes. The cozy warmth of his pajamas, his heated home, and the knowledge that his loved ones are safe threatens to pull him into sleep, but he has one last thing he wants to get done first.

With Michael's ruined shirt in hand, Tubbo makes his way to the kitchen sink, though his mind is still lost in a possible premise for their next divorce argument.

And apparently Ranboo is itching to provide him with one, because he steps in front of Tubbo, arms out, blocking his path to the sink.

"What- Uh, what are you doing?" asks Ranboo.

Tubbo blinks at him, unable to figure out what Ranboo's problem is. "Using the kitchen sink...?"

"Why?" Ranboo swallows, looking panicked. "I- I told you I'd do the dishes for a few days this morning, remember?"

Tubbo thinks he's full of shit at first, but then he's able to conjure the vague memory of Ranboo saying something similar over breakfast.

"Wh- I mean, yeah, but I thought you were joking. And anyway, this isn't dishes, it's Michael's shirt, so move."

Ranboo shakes his head slowly. "I can't."

"Wh- Ranboo, I've- I need to soak this tonight, to see if I can get the stain out. I've literally got soap I can use at the sink, just let me-"

Tubbo makes a run for it mid-sentence, but Ranboo grabs him, grappling with him to keep him away from the sink.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Tubbo laughs. "Let me wash our kid's shirt!"

"No, just let me do it! You can't go to the sink-"

"You'll burn yourself! Just let me-"

"No!"

Tubbo didn't want to have to do this, but he finally lets himself use his full strength, though he's noticeably less agile when tired. He breaks away from Ranboo's hold, making his way to the sink and seeing Ranboo hang his head in shame.

"You're a fucking weirdo," Tubbo scoffs. "Seriously, I-"

As he turns around, he spots something through the window above the sink. There are bright lights, a few beams standing up, and now that he's closer to the window, he's able to notice the faint sound of someone working a saw...

Tubbo frowns. "Ranboo, is that... That's not... A construction site...?"

He turns to look at Ranboo over his shoulder, but Ranboo only rubs at the back of his neck, shrugging.

Tubbo's eyes widen. "Surely not," he whispers.

He's waiting for some sort of confirmation, for Ranboo to explain that nothing is actually being built and Tubbo's gotten his hopes up for nothing, but the clarification never comes.

"I wanted it to be a surprise,” Ranboo says instead.

Tubbo takes off running. He hears Ranboo yelp from behind him, and he knows he's in slippers and pajamas, but god damn it he has got to see this, has to see if it's actually real, can't believe that Ranboo genuinely-

He stumbles as he runs, kicking up puffs of snow behind him, feeling the bitter sting from the clumps that get into his house shoes. Tubbo doesn't care. He continues running until he gets close enough to the construction to make out the frame, the materials, to see what it really is that's being built just a short ways away from his house.

It's the greenhouse.

It's not finished, not even close. It’s barely started, in fact. But there's a sign in the dirt letting him know that Foolish is at work ("DANGER"), and he can clearly see the glass and the redstone for the heating system, as well as an intricately carved heart that looks like it's supposed to go over the door.

Ranboo catches up to him while he's still staring. Ranboo huffs, hands on his knees.

"What's- You're in pajamas, Tubbo, you- How are you so fast in slippers?"

Tubbo doesn't turn to him. "Ranboo," he says softly.

He isn't able to finish the thought.

Tubbo's inner dialogue jumbles itself together at light speed, tripping into itself to form one incomprehensible ball of emotion. Ranboo, he thinks. Ranboo, greenhouse, my greenhouse, he listens, how much did this cost, how many nights mining, finally, can't believe this, Ranboo, Ranboo, Ranboo, his mind twists itself into a flurry he's unable to even begin making sense of.

"You know it's gonna take a while to build, right?" Ranboo pipes up. "It- I mean, I paid Foolish to start it as soon as you mentioned it, but it's still- Still won't be ready for-"

"You're wearing armor, right?"

"Um... Yes?" Ranboo quirks a brow. "What- Why are you-"

Tubbo tackles him into the snow. Ranboo shouts in surprise and they hit the ground hard, but Tubbo could seriously squeeze him to death.

He doesn't even realize he's making noise until he's already been doing it for an embarrassing amount of time, screaming into Ranboo's shoulder and hugging him tight enough to hurt.

"This is amazing!" He takes Ranboo by the shoulders, shaking him. "This is fucking- I'm- I'm gonna grow so much shit, I'm gonna grow everything! It- I'll grow strawberries, and- And if I grow cucumbers, Ranboo, we can pickle them, well have our own pickles! And I'll get to grow my tomato plants, and- And flowers, we'll grow so many flowers, I'm gonna grow you a goddamn throne of flowers, Ranboo, I'm gonna drown you to death in them-"

"Okay, alright, Je- Jesus," Ranboo laughs. "I'm glad you like it. I- At first I was almost worried you were joking about it, but then you asked me for it again every, like, five seconds. Which- Which was relieving at first, but then mostly annoying, because, like... I couldn't say anything or I'd spoil the surprise."

Tubbo grins sheepishly. "Sorry about that. I mean, it's not my fault, like, literally at all, but... Sorry."

"I'm really glad you like it," Ranboo tells him sincerely, giving him a special sort of look.

Tubbo does like it. He loves it, and he loves Ranboo, and he loves loving people and places and things, and everything in the world is perfect because Tubbo has his fucking greenhouse now.

Suddenly, a discouraging thought penetrates his happy bubble, and Tubbo's shoulders slump. "Oh, god..."

"What?" Ranboo frowns.

"How... How am I gonna top this?"

Ranboo grins in an evil sort of way. "I dunno," he teases. "Guess you should've thought about that."

Tubbo moves from his place kneeling in front of Ranboo to lie on his back in the snow. It's terribly uncomfortable and he's risking hypothermia, but he's got enough gapples in storage to cure most of it pretty quick.

"I don't... How do I- What the hell am I supposed to even do?"

"I literally told you what I wanted for your next proposal," Ranboo points out. "Just do that."

"Well, I mean, yeah. But that's so... And this is so... Ugh," he groans.

Then, an idea strikes. Turning to face Ranboo, Tubbo pulls out the puppy eyes. "Ranboo."

Ranboo gives him a deadpan look, eyes casting a soft glow over the snow beneath them. "What."

"Can we please stay married an extra week this time to give me time to brainstorm?"

Ranboo's face screws up. "What? No! That's cheating!"

"Ranboo, please,” Tubbo begs. "Come on, you've made this unfair, now. Give me- I need you to throw me a bone here."

"Nope, absolutely not," Ranboo shakes his head. "All- all my bones are staying right here in my body, I'm not throwing you any of them."

"Please? Not even your femur, Ranboo, pretty please?"

"Uh-uh, no femurs. We are getting divorced at my book club next week, and that's that."

Tubbo sighs, staring up at the stars from his place in the ground, pointedly ignoring the numbness encompassing the back half of his body.

"Well, I mean, technically we're not even married right now," Tubbo mumbles. "Just engaged."

"Hmm, that's true," Ranboo agrees, but the sleepless exhaustion is starting to sink back into both of their voices as the excitement wears off.

And Tubbo's throat is sore from laughing, and his cheeks hurt from smiling, and his hair is messy and his pajamas are getting soaked from snow and he has a goddamn greenhouse.

"Should we do it now?" Ranboo quietly suggests.

Tubbo blinks slowly. "Do... What?"

"Get married. D'you wanna just... Just do our vows real quick?"

Tubbo turns his head, and to his surprise, Ranboo doesn't look apprehensive at all. Just sleepy, and happy, the mere combination of which is enough to make Tubbo grin.

"Okay, c'mere," Tubbo sits himself back in his elbows, scooting in until their shoulders touch.

He slides Ranboo's ring off his finger with one hand, the other arm holding him up. "Ready?"

"Mhm, mhm, go for it," Ranboo murmurs.

"Ranboo, I think you're pretty cool most of the time. You're a really good dad, and your handwriting is nice, and you got me a greenhouse, and I like falling asleep on your shoulder. Do you take me as your husband for, like, maybe a week?"

"I do," Ranboo smiles.

Tubbo slips the ring right back onto Ranboo's finger, swapping the arm supporting himself so that his own ring hand can be taken.

Ranboo takes it. "Ready?"

"Yes, Ranboo, get on with it. I'm sleepy."

Tubbo should feel bad for being cranky at their wedding, but they have so many and he's so sleepy and his legs are actually starting to get a bit numb, now.

"With this ring, I... No, that's- that's way too corny, um... Hmm."

"Ranboo," Tubbo draws out his name. "I wanna go to bed. Just marry me already. Here, I'll go ahead and say it, 'I d-'"

"No!" Ranboo interrupts. "No, just- Just wait, I got it, I got it."

Tubbo sighs impatiently, but he does feel bad for his sudden onset of exhaustion, so he just leans his head on Ranboo's shoulder and watches his own hand.

"Tubbo, I'm really glad tonight went well. I mean, it didn't go well at all, but you were there, so I had fun. I always have fun with you. And I hope I keep doing that forever. Be my husband, okay?"

"Okay," Tubbo says as Ranboo slips on his ring. "I do, of course, yes, et cetera."

"That's good," Ranboo murmurs. "Would be pretty awkward if you said no."

"Maybe I will next time," Tubbo muses. "Just to spice things up."

"Don't," Ranboo says. Tubbo ignores him.

Ranboo and Tubbo's fifty-third wedding happens on the ground outside in the middle of the night, while both of them are shivering and delirious from lack of sleep. Their fifty-fourth divorce is just over the horizon, and if Tubbo has it his way, they're just getting started.

"Carry me inside," Tubbo pleads. "My legs are all numb."

"That- That's because you ran into the snow in your pajamas, Tubbo, jeez. The greenhouse would've still been here after you'd put on a coat and shoes, y'know."

Despite his chastising, Ranboo lets Tubbo clamber onto his back, and he starts the short trek back to the mansion.

"Ranboo?" Tubbo asks.

"Yeah?"

Tubbo doesn't really have anything to say. He's just talking to keep himself awake, and saying Ranboo's name because he likes Ranboo, but now he has to think of something.

"Can we do this, like, forever?"

Tubbo doesn't have any idea what he means. What "this" refers to, why he's even asking Ranboo this, why he's not in bed yet... All of it is lost on him as he finally sees the familiar light of the mansion begin to appear from behind his closed eyelids.

Ranboo seems to know what he means, even if Tubbo himself has no idea.

"Of course we can, Tubbo," he says, and for whatever reason, Tubbo believes him.