Our Get Along Sweater Except It's Fucking Shackles

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Tommy stares.

Wilbur rolls his eyes, "Please," he grits out.

Tommy smiles, "Sure, Wilbur ."

He picks up the pepper shaker calmly and throws the thing right at the man's head.

"You fuck-"

_______

"Okay, let's just move on to dessert," Philza announces sagely.

Ranboob perks up. "Oh yeah, it's chilling in the fridge. Lemme go get it."

Tommy pales as he watches Ranboob head off to the kitchen.

"You let him fucking bake? " He hisses.

"He can't mess up baking mate," Philza says. Oh what a poor, naive soul this man has.

"Ranboo can and will mess up anything he's given the opportunity to," Tubbo remarks with a defeated gaze. "You gave him an opportunity."

Philza rolls his eyes, "You guys are so dramatic. Ranboo has never done anything wrong."

"Stop being a Ranboo apologist," Wilbur scowls.

Ranboob walks back in with a tray.

Oh Philza. Tommy salutes internally.

He sets the tray down and they all eye it with suspicion.

Brownies.

Tommy frowns, narrowing his eyes, "Is this edible?"

Ranboo raises an eyebrow, "I hope so?"

"Take the first slice Techno," Wilbur prompts, handing his brother a brownie.

Technoblade shrugs, taking a bite.

What a brave soldier.

They all wait in anticipation as Technoblade chews.

"...Verdict?" Tubbo asks nervously.

Technoblade nods, "S'nice."

They all take a collective breath of relief.

Tommy grins, "Finally, Ranboob, you have just earned a quarter of my respect," He announces taking a brownie.

Tubbo grins as he takes one himself, "Good job, Boo."

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