Chapter Text
Nine months later…
Tommy glanced down at the frankly absurd amount of children clinging to his legs as he tried to move around the room.
“Misuko, you’ve gotta help me, I’m trapped.”
Misuko barely glanced up from where she was cleaning glasses in the backroom sink. Thankfully, she’d gotten some more hands to help out at the bar, even if they were small, but she still seemed to be perpetually busy. Hence why Tommy was looking after the kids— and he was much better with them, to be honest.
“Oh I’m so sorry, Tommy,” Misuko teased, “my hands are just too full. Maybe I wouldn’t be so busy if someone hadn’t convinced me to turn my bar into basically an orphanage.”
One of the kids, a newer arrival whose name Tommy couldn’t remember, scrambled up his leg like a mountain goat and wrapped their arms around his hips.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” Tommy pushed them off, semi-gently, of course, but kids mostly bounced. Sure enough, they were off the floor and cheering in seconds.
Misuko snorted. “It also might help if you put down their lunch, idiot.”
“Ah.” That was what he was forgetting.
Tommy put the plate down on the wooden table he carved to just barely fit into the already cramped room, tiny chairs and all. The kids all found a seat, and Tommy could never understand why they all treated it like a game of chairs when there were plenty of seats, Michael, please stop pushing her, you'll get your cookies.
Eventually, mouths became full of food instead of playful screams, and Tommy let out a sigh.
“Any word on when Callum will be back?” Tommy asked.
Misuko shrugged. “He said he was gonna stay out later and later now that it’s getting colder again.” Tommy almost said something, but Misuko just rolled her eyes. “He’s a big boy, Tommy. He’ll be alright.”
Tommy fidgeted. “He brought his coat, right?”
“Yes.”
“And he knows to avoid that inn on Winespring, right?”
“Yes, you’ve told him a thousand times.”
“And—”
“Tommy, he’s okay.” Misuko set down the glasses to put her hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “I even gave him my knife just in case.”
Tommy took a deep breath. Some days it was still hard to get a handle on his anxiety, but the people around him had their ways of calming him down, and Misuko’s involved blunt reassurance and giving children literal murder weapons.
“I would have kept it if I knew you were gonna give it to the kids,” Tommy said, but his tone was light and he cracked a smile.
“Like you have any need for it,” Misuko said, “Mr. I Made A Mature and Morally Righteous Decision. I would’ve just stabbed him.”
Tommy just rolled his eyes. “You’d stab me given the chance.” He paused, looking at the kids at the table trying to pretend they weren’t listening. “You’re good for the week, though?”
“Yes, oh my God, go take care of your actual child.” Misuko whipped him playfully with her wet dish rag.
Tommy glanced at the clock. Shit.
He grabbed his pack, scrambling for his coat. “I’m late, I’ll see you on Sunday!”
“Don’t kill anybody too hard!” Misuko called, but Tommy was already out the door. He untied his horse, Sean’s horse really, but what’s mine is yours and all that. He was still getting used to it, the idea of together and forever.
The ride back to the village was boring and cold, and the wind was worse at the pace he was pushing the horse. He was not about to be late.
Tommy handed the horse to the stablehand, a new addition to the slowly growing village, tossed an emerald at him, and dashed off to the house.
It hadn’t changed much since Sean had officially moved it. He had wanted to get rid of the spruce door, considering how horribly it clashed, but Tommy spouted something about memories and some other bullshit, and the monstrosity had stayed. Tommy may have matured from cobblestone and mud, but he wasn’t about to have a perfect looking house like some dickhead.
Tommy unlocked the door and tossed his pack onto the table. He unloaded everything he got from the city, supplies, groceries, a very cute drawing a kid made of him and Clementine that he most certainly did not cry about, etc. He grabbed a few of Clementine’s favorite snacks, a set of knit gloves and hat, and his waterproof boots.
A thud sounded outside along with a very faint “darn!” that Tommy snorted at. He grabbed the pack, slipped his boots on, and headed back outside.
Ranboo was right outside by the inconspicuous ender pearl stasis pool disguised as a small fish pond shaking water out of his suit pant leg. He looked a little miffed.
“Having fun there, Ranboob?”
Ranboo looked annoyed but as soon as he saw Tommy his face brightened— and then immediately schooled itself into fake anger.
“We’re going back to Snowchester in December, this is gonna turn into ice in an instant.”
Tommy grinned, pulling his hat and gloves on. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
“I’m gonna start paying a taxi service charge if I keep getting wet,” Ranboo grumbled, but he pulled an ender pearl out and tossed it into the pool without complaint.
“Aren’t you rich?”
“Shut up.” Ranboo smiled. “You ready?”
“As always.”
Ranboo walked over, grabbed Tommy’s arm, and they blinked in and out of existence.
The world shifted, and then they were standing outside a giant mansion in the tundra next to an identical ender pearl stasis pool. Tommy started shivering in seconds but ignored it in favor of looking at the snowflakes slowly drifting down from the sky.
He had forgotten how… quiet it could be. The snow dampened everything, enclosed the sky. It made Tommy feel like he was standing in an old church, one who’s carpet was well worn from dress shoes and kneeling knees, red brick and low ceilings. Cozy. Enclosed, but in a way that didn’t trigger his claustrophobia.
A hand rested on his shoulder. “Coming?”
“Sorry,” Tommy shook himself and followed Ranboo inside. “The village doesn’t get snow. When I first came back I thought Quackity had covered the whole SMP in cocaine.”
“That’s not– nevermind. I’m pretty sure they’re up in Michael’s room. I’ve got to finish lunch, it should be ready in about ten minutes— you can find your way, right?” Ranboo asked.
Tommy grumbled. “I got lost once . Besides, it’s your fault for having a big ass mansion, mister one-percent.”
“I can print out a map if you’d like!” Ranboo called, walking away. Tommy could hear him suppressing his laughter.
Tommy flipped him off.
He made his way out the outrageously large and pompous staircase, and he weaved his way through a few hallways before he came to a stop outside Michael’s bedroom. There was a sign on the door, crayon on paper, and if Tommy hadn’t known what it said, he would’ve assumed Tubbo tried to draw a caterpillar with his eyes closed.
Tubbo had whacked him with his metal hand when Tommy said that and informed him that it was Michael’s name, written by the big man himself. Tommy had suggested a tutor. Tubbo whacked him again.
Tommy pushed open the door, quick to close it behind him.
“Tommy!”
“Daddy!”
Little arms wrapped around Tommy’s legs, and he was quick to lift Clementine onto his hip.
“Did you have fun today!”
Clementine nodded. “We went outside!”
Tommy made an exaggerated face of surprise. “Really? Did you play in the snow?”
“Yeah! Me and Tata threw snowballs at Tub and Michael! We won!” Clementine squealed.
Tommy looked over Clementine’s head at Sean and raised an eyebrow. Sean snorted into his fist and shook his head.
Clementine’s abilities didn’t work the best on fast-moving objects, which wouldn’t be a problem on its own, but she seemed to be under the impression that they did. So Tommy and Sean had become very good at pretending that Clementine was the next Michael Jordan.
“Good job, big girl! Did you say thank you to Tubbo and Michael for playing with you?”
Clementine shifted in Tommy’s arms so she was facing the others.
“Thank you,” she signed.
Tubbo’s eyes crinkled from his smile. “Thank you for coming, Clem. I’m glad you had a good time.”
Michael dropped the crayons he had been drawing with and ran over to Clementine, giving her a gentle hug. She hugged him tighter and smacked her forehead into his like she knew he liked. Michael squealed out of happiness and headbutted her back.
Tubbo had explained that Michael was afraid of hurting Clementine because of her size, but Clementine wasn’t the most self-aware and therefore had no restraint to keep from hurting herself. She was smart, though, and realized pretty quickly that Michael loved roughhousing, even if he didn’t say it.
It turned out he couldn’t say anything, actually.
Whatever piglin anatomy was in the throat and mouth kept Michael from using human speech. He could communicate in piglin grunts and such, but it wasn’t a very nuanced language. Tommy taught him as much sign language as he could, but Michael’s hooves prevented him from using some signs. Most, really.
So with the help of Sean and Ranboo, Tommy was making a special version of sign language for Michael. MSL, one might call it.
Still, the little piglin was pretty expressive and tended to prefer silent communication which was fine for everyone, including Clementine. Sometimes Tommy thought she was telepathic because the two kids could understand each other better than their own parents.
It also helped that Clementine and Michael were growing at different rates. Clementine was already way past the normal size for her age, and her mental growth reflected the same thing. Michael was developing slower, and whether that was because of his species, his slight zombification, or just an unrelated disability, they weren’t sure. It didn’t really matter in the end, because anyone with or without eyes could look at Michael and see how happy he was— especially when Clementine came over for playdates.
“I think lunch should be ready soon,” Tommy said, “should we head down and say hi to Ranboo?”
Clementine wrinkled her nose. “Potatoes?”
Sean burst into laughter along with Tubbo who practically fell on the floor in laughter. Tommy felt a bit out of the loop.
Tubbo ruffled Clementine’s hair, a thick mess that Sean and Tommy had yet to figure out how to manage.
“I think it's grilled cheese and carrots this time,” Tubbo said, laughing.
Michael snorted something that sounded excited, grabbed Clementine by the arm, and tugged her out of the room.
“I’ve missed something,” Tommy pouted. Sean snickered.
Tubbo threw his arm over Tommy’s shoulder, leading out of the room to follow the kids.
“When Techno was last over, Sean managed to get Clementine to say she liked carrots better than potatoes. Except she took it a step further and wouldn’t eat the potatoes at all, insisting she doesn’t like them— which she clearly does cause if you just call them ‘taters’ she’ll eat a whole plate.”
Sean burst out laughing again, clearly proud of himself.
Tommy just shook his head. “You’re a terrible influence.”
“You should’ve seen Techno’s face,” he wheezed, “I think I ruined his whole week.”
Tommy flicked him in the side of the head. “Wasn’t punching him in the face enough for you?”
Sean grinned, something evil that Tommy rarely saw in him. “No.”
“If you get killed I’m just gonna say I told you so.”
Sean shrugged. “I’ll just tell Tubbo and then he won’t let Techno play with Michael.”
“I would do that,” Tubbo said, nodding, “the chaos would be immaculate.”
Tommy rubbed his head. “My worst mistake was introducing you two— no, my worst mistake was letting you come back here. It’s been a terrible influence on you.”
They turned the corner into the dining room where Ranboo was failing miserably to corral the two kids into their chairs. Clementine was refusing to see in her high chair and Michael just seemed to be supporting her reign of terror.
Ranboo looked up at them with helpless eyes. “I told her she couldn’t play with the knives and now she’s fighting everything I say.”
Sean ducked out of the room to fall into a ball of laughter, apparently in a very giggly mood. Tommy just rolled his eyes and picked up a screaming Clementine and plopped her into her chair. A few straps later, she realized she wasn’t able to wriggle out and stopped crying.
Ranboo breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad we skipped the terrible twos with Michael.”
“Yeah, cause he was in a hole in the Nether!” Tubbo called from the kitchen.
“I’ll take away your desert!” Ranboo threatened.
Tubbo entered the dining room carrying plates of grilled cheeses. His metal hand had split into multiple tendrils of wires and iron, enough to balance everyone’s servings and a large bowl of carrots.
“That’s so fu—freaking sick,” Tommy exclaimed, “you’re the coolest man ever.”
He turned to Sean. “Can I get one?”
“No.”
“But look at it! I could harvest like eighty carrots a second with that thing!”
“Don’t give in,” Ranboo said to Sean, setting the plates on the table, “Tubbo keeps asking me if he can cut off his other hand because it just isn’t as efficient anymore.”
“It makes sense!” Tubbo whined.
“It literally doesn’t.”
“Carrots!” Clementine squealed, almost tipping her high chair over in order to grab a handful from the bowl.
Tommy flopped into his chair and took a bite of grilled cheese. “If you switched our daughter with a rabbit hybrid,” he said to Sean, “I’ll never forgive you.”
The conversation danced around as they ate, from bunnies to nuclear warheads to the best way to pack a snowball for maximum pain. It was refreshing to joke around with Tubbo and Ranboo again without the underlying pressure of politics and survival. It was also hilarious to see Sean slip into their dynamic without a splash, a breath of fresh air for a pragmatic Ranboo but also a partner in crime for Tubbo.
“You’re seeing Wilbur after this, right?” Tubbo asked.
Tommy nodded, mouth full of carrots.
“It’s almost three, big man, Puffy will be furious if he’s late for his therapy appointment again.”
Shit. Tommy glanced at the clock, and wouldn’t you know it, the sun was practically at the top of the disc. How was he always running late?
He washed down the carrots with a big gulp of water and started to gather his plate, scattered and in a rush.
“Just leave it,” Ranboo said, “I’ll get it. Have a good time with Wilbur!”
“Thank you!” Tommy said, dashing out of the room.
He made his way out of the mansion and to the hyperbridge from Snowchester to the main SMP area. Prime, that thing had saved his ass so many times, cutting what should be a five minute boat ride to a ten second walk.
Tommy headed to the Nether portal, taking a route that was starting to become familiar again. What wasn’t familiar was the new bridge in the Nether, winding around the others till it led to a shiny new portal.
Tommy stepped through, blinking at the bright light. The portal was mostly surrounded by trees, but Tommy’s feet were resting on a lightly worn dirt path that slipped through a small break in the oak and birch.
He headed down it, double checking that he had his armor in his inventory and communicator up for emergencies. Wilbur hadn’t ever been violent, necessarily, but in those first few months he was very desperate to get what he wanted, even if it meant hurting those around him.
Tommy pushed away the memory of Wilbur grabbing at his sword and aiming it towards his own stomach.
It’d been months since that, and almost two months since Wilbur’s last attempt— and Tommy hadn’t heard him express the desire in a few weeks. Puffy said he was doing better, but better— as Tommy had learned all too well— was not a very linear thing. Still, Tommy was hopeful. Someone needed to be.
Wilbur’s cottage came into view, tucked away in the never-ending cove of trees but nestled up against a small lake. It was peaceful and very, very far away from the SMP. Wilbur wasn’t allowed access without supervision for his safety, but he hadn’t expressed any interest in visiting and honestly seemed happy with the isolation.
Tommy had to remind himself that sometimes the things that Wilbur was happy about weren’t good for him, which is why he was visiting in the first place.
He hadn’t been allowed to see Wilbur for a while after… everything, for Tommy’s mental health and Wilbur’s everything health. Once they, they being Phil, Puffy, and Niki, figured out Wilbur had been stuck in limbo for a decade and was almost obsessed with getting back to Tommy, they all agreed a degree of separation was needed.
So Tommy hadn’t been able to see his brother for what felt like an unfairly long time, and even if this version of Wilbur wasn’t exactly the one he loved and remembered, he kept coming back.
Tommy knocked on the front door, plain birch, very bland in his opinion, and waited. Wilbur could be a little territorial, and he also forgot that the sounds around him could be made by real people now, so it was best to wait.
Sure enough, about a minute later, the door cracked open.
Wilbur looked like shit. And that was being nice, Tommy had seen Techno’s dogs poop out something that looked better than the bags under Wilbur’s eyes right now.
“Hey man, sorry I’m a bit late, can I come in?” Tommy asked.
Wilbur’s eyes flicked behind Tommy, a sure sign that he was probably hearing or seeing something, and darted back. “Is it Sunday?”
“Yup,” Tommy said, popping the p, “a little after three, just like always.” Routine, that’s what Phil said. Wilbur needed routine, something to hold on to when the rest of his world was an abstract painting of reality and hallucinations.
Wilbur opened the door, and Tommy stepped in. His house was a mess, an oddly organized mess, like Wilbur had gone through everything methodically like he was looking for something. Wilbur didn’t say anything about it, just kicking the trash to the side and flopping down on the floor, arms crossed under his head. Tommy was confused for a second, looking for the chairs that norm— ah, they were in the pile.
Tommy sat down with him, just going with the flow.
It took Wilbur a few minutes to say anything.
“I was back there,” he said, and Tommy knew he was talking about limbo.
They… well, no one really knew much about limbo. Phil said Wilbur described it as a dark train station to him, and both Puffy and Niki were tight-lipped about the topic, but Tommy had only heard limbo called “it” or “there”.
“Yeah?” Tommy asked, trying to prompt Wilbur into talking more.
“I never… it hasn’t shown me there since I left.”
Okay, so that was new. “Do you know why that changed?”
Wilbur shrugged as best he could while lying down. “I know I don’t— did you know that blood is cheaper than ink in 2b2t? Tubbo mentioned that once.”
The sudden change in topic always startled Tommy, but he’d had enough practice, especially in the beginning, to take it with grace.
“I didn’t. Did he tell you anything else?”
Wilbur scowled. “You don’t have to talk to me like a child.”
Tommy kept himself from fidgeting, knowing it set Wilbur off on bad days like this. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m keeping my sentences simple.”
Wilbur huffed, throwing his arms over his eyes. “That’s how you talk to a child.”
“I talk to other people like this.”
“I think I went back because I wanted to kill myself again,” Wilbur said.
Tommy suppressed a flinch.
“Niki says I’m getting better but I know I’m not. And some days I think she’s lying to me on purpose, trying to get on my good side so she can stab me in the back, and some days I think she just pities me. I would get on a train and it wouldn’t go anywhere, did you know that?”
“I didn’t,” Tommy said quietly.
“Phil says I kept trying to kill myself because they wouldn’t let you visit. And then they would and he said it was because I wanted normalcy and that’s what limbo gave me. But it’s been months of the most normal and boring life I never wanted to have, and I woke up yesterday and thought about slitting my wrists with the knives you all won’t let me have. But I didn’t actually want to.”
Wilbur gestured towards the door in a way that made Tommy guess he wasn’t actually seeing the door. “I told them no.”
“The shadows?”
“Yes, the fucking shadows, Tommy, who else would it be?” Wilbur grinded the butt of his palms into his eyes and suddenly sat up, looking at Tommy with red but focused eyes.
“Does it get better?” Wilbur asked.
Tommy couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Yeah Big Dubs, it does.”
“I’ll punt you if you’re lying.” Wilbur got to his feet, groaning, but he seemed much more coherent than he was just a minute ago.
Tommy stood up with him.
“You’re late,” Wilbur snapped, looking away from the clock on his floor that was somehow still working.
“Sorry,” Tommy tried to smile, something to lighten the mood, “I lost track of time.”
Wilbur flinched.
Right.
“Shall we?” Tommy asked, ignoring his blunder and holding out his elbow.
Wilbur slapped his arm away and stepped outside. “Stop doing that. I’m a danger to myself but I’m not going to fall and break a hip.”
Tommy’s stomach dropped. He didn’t like to think about those first few months, but Wilbur couldn’t help but joke about it. Actually, he definitely could, but Tommy was sure he kept talking about it in order to drive Tommy away. Which, considering how attached WIlbur was to him, didn’t really make sense. Puffy said that illnesses like Wilbur’s rarely made sense.
“You’re not a danger to yourself,” Tommy said.
“I tried to kill my—”
“You’re not a danger to yourself,” Tommy repeated firmly. “If you were, you’d have already done something stupid. But you haven’t, and you’re just saying that shit because the shitty part of your brain is trying to prove that I’ll leave you.”
Wilbur frowned. “I don’t think you’re going to leave.”
“Yes you do. Every time I’m late you think I’m never going to show up again, and we had to sedate you the first time I visited and tried to go home.”
“It was the first time I got to talk to you in almost a century!”
Tommy rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’ll never leave me, right, Tommy? I’m Wilbur in Pogtopia, memememememe.”
“I never said that,” Wilbur snapped.
“I’m not going to leave.”
“I never said you would.”
“Then why do you keep pushing me away?”
Wilbur paused. “I—”
Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to keep them from freezing in the winter air. “Puffy says you need to tell people exactly what you think, not what you think they want to hear. It’s one of your character flaws.”
“I liked you better when you didn’t have a basic understanding of psychology,” Wilbur grumbled.
“Stop changing the subject. Why do you push me away?”
“I don’t know! Why do you keep coming back?”
Tommy knocked Wilbur’s shoulder with his own, just enough to make him stumble. “I love you. You’re my brother. That’s why.”
“I hurt Sean.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t stop Techno at the festival.”
“I know.”
“I got Phil to kill me because I was too cowardly to do it myself,” Wilbur whispered.
“I know.”
Wilbur shook his head, looking at the ground. “Then you’re a dumbass for loving me.”
“Love is—”
“—unconditional, yeah, I know, it’s not like you’ve said it before,” Wilbur muttered, “It’s a bit harder in practice.”
Wilbur’s hands were turning pale without blood flow, and he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Tommy grabbed them by the fingers and winced at the frigid skin on his own.
“Big man, your hands are freezing.”
“Ah,” Wilbur said, “I didn’t notice.”
Tommy huffed, breathing into and slipping a spare pair of gloves on Will’s cupped hands. “They’ve got to be numb by now.”
Wilbur shrugged. “I don’t know. Everything feels like pins and needles now.”
Right, the sensory issues.
“Has Phil figured out anything for that?”
“No, apparently it’s a mental issue, not something wrong with the actual nerves, so potions won’t do anything. It’ll take time, just like everything else.” Wilbur sighed. “Sometimes I think they’re lying to me because they know if they tell me it’ll never get better I’ll stop trying.”
“Have you considered that it’s not getting better because you aren’t actually letting yourself believe it will?” Tommy asked.
Wilbur knocked his shoulder back. “Stop being smart.”
“Stop being dumb.”
“You’re such a fucking child.”
“And you’re an old, old man,” Tommy teased. “Couldn’t be me.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes. “You have a literal child. You’ve got a fucking house, for Prime’s sake, I just have that dumb fucking cottage that Phil built me.”
“Hey, I built that too!”
Wilbur paused, looking surprised. “You did?”
Tommy nodded. “Hitting hard things with more hard things is a very good stress reliever. I was stressed, Phil had nails, wood, and a hammer. It was a no-brainer.”
“What parts did you build?”
Tommy shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“Please?” Wilbur pouted, “Humor me?”
“Fine. I know I did the whole roof, maybe the kitchen floor. Oh, I did all the woodworking for the furniture. The bed frame, the table, those were me.”
Wilbur just gaped at him. “When did you learn how to do all that?”
“Sometime after my second suicide attempt,” Tommy said blithely. Okay, so maybe he got why Wilbur joked about it, it was fun to see the look on his face. Prime, his eyes went all scrunchy like someone kicked his dog.
“You’re not allowed to joke about that.”
Tommy raised his eyebrows. “And you are?”
Wilbur wrapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulders and pulled him close. “You’re my little brother, I don’t like thinking about you like that.”
Tommy snorted. “Yeah, me too.”
They stopped right outside Puffy’s office, and while Wilbur normally went straight in after a goodbye, he paused this time.
“You really are better now?” Wilbur asked, looking almost as if he didn’t want to hear the answer.
Tommy stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. “I am. I promise. I might have some bad days, but I’m always getting better.” The implication hung in the air. You can too.
Wilbur held him tight and buried his face into Tommy’s shoulder, slouching to do it. Tommy stood on his tiptoes just slightly, adjusting for Wilbur’s comfort.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Tommy whispered.
Wilbur didn’t respond, but he released Tommy and slipped off the spare gloves. Tommy took them with an eye roll.
“You might as well keep them.”
Wilbur grinned. “And miss you fussing over me? Never.”
“Dumbass.”
“Dickhead.”
“I love you.”
Wilbur swallowed, breaking eye contact with Tommy and pretending to look at the landscape around them instead. “I love you too. Tell Sean I’m sorry, please?”
“I always do.”
Tommy waited to make sure he got inside, heard Puffy’s cheerful greeting, and set off down the Prime path to head back to Snowchester.
The SMP wasn’t very busy, always pretty lazy on Sundays, but Tommy gave Jack Manifold as he passed by the hotel. Jack waved back, a little stiff like always, but Tommy just tried to smile and move on. Jack was doing his community service, making something that would bring everyone on the server together and keep him busy. Tommy hoped it turned out well.
He didn’t see anyone else, so he took the hypertunnel back to Snowchester just in time to see everyone coming outside in bundles of winter coats and hats. Tommy could barely see Michael’s snout above his scarf.
“Hey guys!” he yelled, waving.
They waved back, especially Michael who had just learned what waving meant and was very excited to use it.
“Just in time!” Tubbo called, “We were gonna leave you behind!”
Tommy approached them and slipped his arm around Sean’s. “It’s my house!”
“ Our house, actually,” Sean teased.
Tommy sighed, looking dramatically at Ranboo. “Do you still have those divorce papers?”
“Always.”
“We aren’t even married!”
Tommy placed a hand on his chest like a delicate Victorian lady. “Alas, I may lose the house, but at least…” He picked Clementine up from behind, relishing in her squeal. “I got the kid!”
“Daddy! Daddy! Set me down!” she said, giggling like a madman.
Tommy dangled her so her nose barely brushed the top of the snow. “Did you say down?”
“No! Not snow!”
Tommy whisked her back up, placing her on his shoulders in a smooth movement that took way too long to master. “Oh, you said up?”
Clementine grabbed his hair and squealed. “Down, Daddy!”
“Ohh! You meant down! ” Tommy set her back down on the ground and burst into laughter when she immediately face planted.
Karma struck because Clementine immediately started crying, so Tommy set her back up on her feet and brushed the snow off her face.
“Sorry sweetheart, I should’ve let you get your balance.”
“It’s cold,” she mumbled, burrowing into the collar of her coat.
Tommy glanced up. Sean was watching them with a horribly fond look on his face, and Tubbo and Ranboo were teaching Michael how to eat snowflakes.
“Alright, I think it’s time to go,” Tommy called.
Ranboo nodded, holding out his arms.
“See you next week!” Sean called.
“See you then!’ Tubbo replied. Tommy waved, making sure Michael waved back.
Tommy blinked, and they were back at the house. Ranboo was stepping out of the pool, already pulling out an ender pearl.
“Have a good night!” he said, tossed the pearl down in the water, and disappeared.
Tommy and Sean headed up their porch, arms still linked even with Clementine wiggling around in Tommy’s.
“Give Daddy a second,” he said, “we’ll get you warm in just a second.”
She mumbled something but it was lost in knit wool and sleepiness.
Sean unlocked the door and led them inside. The house was quiet but warm, thanks to the literal magic Phil had done to it.
“How does nap time before dinner sound?” Sean asked.
“Prime, I thought you’d never ask,” Tommy groaned, “it’s been the longest day of my life.”
Sean just laughed. “You were the one who agreed to do everything on Sunday.”
Tommy just flipped him off.
Clementine was already dozing off, so Tommy stripped her of her winter gear and set her in the crib. He took a moment to just look, taking in her peaceful form and sleepy sighs.
Sean came up behind him and rested his chin on Tommy’s shoulder, looking down at Clementine as well.
“Man, who thought we’d end up here,” Sean said.
Tommy snorted. “You’re telling me.”
Sean hummed. “Sometimes I wish I could travel back in time just to tell you that it would all be okay.”
“I don’t think I would’ve believed you.”
“God, you were so jaded. I still remember the dirty look you gave me when you fell on your butt harvesting carrots for the first time.”
“In my defense, you made it look difficult.”
Sean punched him in the arm. “Oh, shut up.”
“Thank you, though,” Tommy said.
“For what?”
“For saving my life, and then giving me one.”
Sean smiled. “Most of that was you. I think you’d be surprised at how much life there was in you even when you were closest to death’s door.”
“Maybe. But I’m glad you were there with me.”
Sean leaned back and tugged Tommy by his arm. “C’mon, sappy conversations can happen under the warm blankets on the sofa.”
“Are you never warm?” Tommy teased.
“Nope. You’re my space heater.” Sean pulled him onto the sofa and curled into his side.
Tommy sighed dramatically. “I guess I can’t leave.”
Sean yawned, digging his head deeper into the blankets. “You’re stuck with me.”
Tommy went to respond with some snarky comment, but Sean was somehow already asleep, practically curled up in Tommy’s lap.
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Tommy whispered.
He leaned into Sean, soaking up the warmth, and closed his eyes.
The End.