Tommyinnit One Shots

This Is Home 💕

Characters: Platonically married Bench Trio

TW: Slight angst, but mostly fluff

He/Him Pronouns for Ranboo

Sunlight filtered through the open window the
mansion, shining like a halo on a sleeping boy's
face.

He blinks sleepily at the canopy above the bed,
eyes tracing the dainty stars sewn into the fabric
as he takes stock of his position. Somehow,
between falling asleep curled into Ranboo's side
with his fingers linked with Tubbo's over the
hybrid's stomach and waking up, he's migrated to
the center of the bed.

Tubbo snores into his shoulder, fluffy hair
tickling his chin and a leg thrown over his own,
while Ranboo presses into his other side with an
arm around both of them, face buried in his hair
as enderman-like warbles fall from his mouth.

The blanket they'd all been snuggled under is in a
wad near the end of the bed, only covering their
feet, or in Ranboo's case, up to his knees (damn
the enderman hybrid and his long legs).

It's almost like he's back home, in the cottage
that sat huddled in a clearing surrounded by
trees, warm and comfortable. He finds himself beginning to drift off again.

The sound of hooves against the wood floor
brings him back to awareness. For a moment, in
his sleep addled brain, he thinks it must be
Techno, awake early as he always is.

And then his brain catches up with the present
and he remembers that if it is Technoblade, then
they are well and truly fucked.

He is just lifting his head from the hypnotically
soft pillows when the bedroom door creaks open.
His heart pounds in his chest and the familiar
glow at his fingertips as he gets ready to access
his inventory cools his heated skin. The culprit
quickly sneaks inside and shuts the door quietly
behind them.

There is no large figure hovering in the doorway,
no bone rattling growl, only teeny hooved hands
that grasp the edge of the blanket near the foot of
the bed, followed closely by the rest of the
zombified piglin child.

Michael sits atop the blue comforter, blinking
owlishly at Tommy, who stares right back as the
glow quickly recedes. The kid is still in his
pajamas, a fluffy looking sweater with cartoon
sheep and a matching pair of comfy pants, and he
holds a crudely stuffed chicken with button eyes
in one arm. The thing looked like someone had
snapped it's wool filled neck, in his opinion.

Tommy briefly contemplates waking one of his
husbands to tend to the child, Prime knows they
are much better at this sort of thing than he is
and his breaths are still coming out shaky, but he
dismisses the idea.

He's a big man, the biggest of men in fact, he can
handle one kid.

Ranboo and Tubbo had already sat him down for
a talk regarding Michael, before they had all
settled into the mansion.

They'd expressed their want for him to bond with
the piglin child, for Tommy to maybe one day see
Michael as a son, or at least part of his family.

He was too embarrassed to admit that Michael
had become family the second Tubbo told him
about the kid.

A weight settles into his lap and Tommy
suddenly has an armful of his nephew his son the
young piglin, who has yet to break eye contact. It
might have been unnerving, if not for the way he
gently grasps the teens sleep shirt (and it is his,
no matter what Ranboob or Tubbo have to say
about it), snuffling softly.

"..'ood?"

Tommy snorts out a near silent laugh. "You
hungry, little man?"

Michael nods enthusiastically, his one remaining
ear flopping with the motion.