"Pass the salt."
"Hmm, I don't think I will."
"Just pass the fucking salt."
" You pass the salt."
"I- I'm going to strangle you."
"I'll strangle you harder."
"That's- you won't be able to strangle me if I'm strangling you."
"How do you know?"
"Because that doesn't make any fucking sense."
"You don't make any fucking sense!"
"Can we not just fuckin' eat!" Philza slams his hands on the table.
The room falls silent.
Tommy slumps into his chair, glowering over at Wilbur who glares back.
"Why do you shits have to argue over everything?" The man sighs, head in hands.
"I didn't even start this one-"
" All you had to do was give me the fucking salt!" Wilbur screeches.
"Well I didn't want to," Tommy crosses his arms.
"Tommy, just give him the salt," Philza mumbles.
Tommy frowns, contemplative. On one hand, he should listen to the only man ever. On the other hand, he hates Wilbur.
"No," He decides, hatred winning out as always.
"You know what? Here," Ranboob smiles passive aggressively as he hands the salt over to Wilbur. "There we go, all done, everything is fine."
Tommy rolls his eyes and kicks Wilbur in the shin under the table.
"You little shit," Wilbur hisses, kicking him back.
Tommy kicks harder.
"Oh for the love of-"
______
"So, let's have a nice family dinner discussion," Philza smiles tensely. "Anyone got a topic they want to talk about?"
Tubbo raises his hand.
"Yes, Tubbo," He nods encouragingly.
Tubbo clears his throat, "Do you think it's possible to shit in the sink?"
Philza lets out a sigh, head dropping to the table.
Technoblade eats on nonchalantly.
Wilbur grimaces.
Tommy laughs.
Ranboob sighs, rolling his eyes, "You really need to stop."
"Never," Tubbo grins. "But like, seriously, it should be possible right? Would it clog the drain? Could you just spray water on it until-"
______
"Any other topics that you would like to share?" Philza tries again, eye twitching.
Tubbo raises his hand.
"Not you."
Tubbo lowers his hand.
Ranboob raises his hand.
"Yes Ranboo?"
"I bought a gaming chair, does anyone want to help me set it up?"
Tubbo grins, "I will!"
Ranboob looks around the table expectantly, "Anyone?"
" I will," Tubbo repeats.
"None of you want to help?" Ranboob sighs.
Tommy whistles awkwardly.
Wilbur averts his eyes, "I've uh, got patrolling, and things."
Technoblade nods. "Mmm me too."
"Sorry mate," Philza smiles apologetically, "I'm pretty sure Tubbo wants to help though."
"Please anyone but him," Ranboob lets out a muffled sob into his hands.
"What? Big man, I'm great. I'm actually really good at instructions," Tubbo pats the teenager's back.
" Anyone but him," Ranboob begs, "He's - he's made this stupid autotune voice changer and it's going to drive me insane. "
Tubbo frowns, "But it sounds awesome."
"No," Ranboob shakes his head gravely. "No, it doesn't."
______
"Tommy," Wilbur starts.
Tommy looks up from where he's poking a carrot with his fork. "What?"
"Pass me the pepper," Wilbur orders.
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."
Ranboob smiles happily.
Tommy takes a bite and nearly presses the self destruct button on the entire fucking universe.
He gags violently around a mouthful of spaghetti.
Why?
Tears spring to his eyes.
This is just pure unadulterated evil.
_______
"Why did you lace it with fucking spaghetti?!" Tommy screams in agony as he tries to lunge for the two-toned bitch. Philza holds him back by the elbows.
"Mate, you can't attack him-"
"He deserves it!" He sobs. "He's ruined my fucking life. I'm never trusting you again."
Ranboob backs away in fear, "I- I thought you knew?"
"How? How? " He cries, "How would we know?! Look what you've done to Tubbo!"
Tubbo stares down at his brownie in despair, eyes empty as he gazes upon the spaghetti in between the chocolate.
"Well - well, Techno liked it so - so," Ranboob stammers.
They all turn to Technoblade.
"Yeah, what is wrong with you?" Wilbur frowns at his twin.
Technoblade shrugs, "I don't see what the problem is."
______
"I'm going out to stop crime, because I am feeling traumatized," Tommy tells Philza.
"Ah ah ah, mate," Philza stops him, "I want you to stay with Wilbur tonight."
Tommy frowns, "Wilbur's on patrol?"
"Yup, you're going with him," Philza smiles.
Tommy gasps.
This is fucking poggers. He can do so much crime stopping and crime alike.
He grins, "This is pogchamp. Thank you."
"There's a catch, mate," The hero smirks.
Tommy's face falls.
_______
This is not pogchamp.
"Stop moving!" Wilbur grits.
"You stop moving, you dick!" Tommy scowls, yanking his arm away.
Wilbur stumbles and pulls Tommy along down onto the concrete with a resounding thud.
They hiss in pain.
This is so shit.
"Look what you've done, you bitch," Tommy elbows him.
"What I've done? Look what you've done!"
Tommy looks down at their handcuffed wrists and glares.
This is going to be a nightmare.
______
"These are your get along shackles, boys," Philza smiles as he locks the handcuffs in place.
"What the fuck," Wilbur and Tommy mutter in unison before devolving into outrage.
"You cannot keep me attached to this fucking gremlin all night! How am I meant to patrol?!"
"How am I meant to be fucking poggers with this bald guy following me everywhere?!"
Philza's smile widens, "You'll figure it out. Have fun."
_______
"So, here is the instruction manual," Ranboo opens up the booklet, sitting cross legged on the floor. "It should be simple enough."
"Sounds like a plan," Tubbo sings through his voice changer.
Oh man.
Ranboo's fingers tighten around the paper, "Mhm," He smiles thinly.
"This is gonna be so much fun," Tubbo sings. " Ranboo and Tubbo, Tubbo and Ranboo. Building a chair. With Michael."
Ranboo may cry today.
He looks over at Michael who is chewing on a random screw and sighs. This is going to be wonderful.
" It is chair time. Chair time, chair time. Yeahhh. We're gonna build this pink chair,"
______
"Can you just fuckin' listen to me?" Tommy glares up at his brother- wait, no, no way. Ew. Tommy glares up at the stupid bitch man.
Wilbur yanks his wrist, "This is my patrol, so we're going this way."
"But - but there will be more crime over there," He points to the other side of the street.
"No, there won't, " Wilbur glares, pulling him along aggressively.
Tommy huffs, "Stop being so pissy Wilbur, it makes you ugly."
"I'll make you ugly in a minute," The man threatens.
"Not possible," Tommy snorts, "Have you seen my impeccable features? My muscular bone structure? The ladies love me. Women love me. I bet you're jealous. Are you jealous of my handsomeness? I send my condolences to your bald head."
Wilbur is silent.
Yikes. Must have hit a nerve.
"...If you don't stay quiet for the rest of this patrol," The hero starts quietly, eyes flashing red, "I will murder you."
Yikes.
Tommy opens his mouth to comment on how he feels their relationship has regressed but he quickly clamps his jaw shut at the menacing look sent his way.
Maybe he will stay quiet for a little bit.
Not because Wilbur told him to.
______
"So, so if you - if you look here, it -" Ranboo closes his eyes momentarily as he tries to speak over the auto tuned voice ringing in his ear. "If you look here it says we need-"
"Michael is eating the hammer, and I think that is very cool. Michael you are so cool, the best son I've ever had."
"I'm going to go insane," Ranboo laughs.
"Ranboo is going insane," Tubbo sings, " That is also very cool. Insanity yeahhh. Let's do this chairrr."
Ranboo looks down at the instruction manual, eyebrow twitching.
This is fine, he thinks as he stares at the disassembled parts of the chair.
Everything is a-okay.
______
Phil flips the page of his book as he lies against the headrest, Techno flopped down next to him in the bed.
He pauses midway through turning the page, "You think they're alright?"
"Hmrh?" Techno opens his eyes tiredly to stare up at him.
"The kids," Phil supplies before adding, "And well, Wilbur. But he fits in the same category."
"Maybe," Techno mumbles.
Phil briefly considers checking up on them, maybe Ranboo and Tubbo need his help?
Distantly he hears autotuned screaming.
He continues to read.
______
"Go this way."
"No!"
"You little shit!"
"You're a shit!"
"You're a child!"
"Bald man!"
"Wah, wah, wah. I'm Tommy and I'm a baby!"
"I am not a baby!"
"Are you guys done or?" The vandal questions, standing to the side awkwardly. "Because I can just go-"
"Shut the fuck up!" Tommy and Wilbur shout.
"Go turn yourself in, " Wilbur whispers.
The vandal drops the spray can, walking away to the police station.
Anyways.
"I am not a baby you dickhead, just because I'm not a walking corpse like you!"
"I'm not a walking corpse, you fetus!"
Tommy glares his most deadliest glare. It is so deadly it could possibly kill a small child. Maybe even a teenager. Definitely a pensioner.
Wilbur glares back.
Tommy stamps on the man's boot.
"You fucking b-"
______
"Tubbo, Tubbo stop," Ranboo orders, taking the drill away from the teenager. "We are not using a drill for this."
"But it'll be more funnn."
"Hmm, nope, it won't actually."
"Don't be so boringggg. Live your life to the fullest. Live your live with a drillll."
"Maybe I want to live my life without your voice changer ," Ranboo mumbles..
Tubbo falters, eyes going wide. "Ranboo do you hate me? Ranboo hates me. Michael are you hearing this?" Michael pauses from where he is nibbling on a part of the chair, tilting his head in confusion. "We are getting a divorccccce."
Hold up.
Ranboo pauses, "We were never married?"
"Ranboo is divorcing meeeee."
"I- I can't divorce you if we were never married."
"You can have Michael on the weekends. You must pay child supporrrrt and all the taxesss."
"I- I don't pay taxes, I am a minor."
"Ranboo is a minerrrrr."
"That's not what I said."
" Miner Booooo. Miner Boo is divorcing meeee."
Ranboo sighs. "Can you just pass me that bolt?"
" Okayyyy."
_______
"Can we get Starbucks?"
"No."
Tommy rolls his eyes, as they walk along a rooftop. "Don't you ever get tired?"
"Tired of what?"
"Being a little bitch."
Wilbur kicks him in the leg.
Rude.
Tommy kicks him back.
"Can you stop fighting me for like, five minutes?" Wilbur scowls.
Tommy frowns, "Don't gaslight me you dick, you kicked me first."
"You instigated it."
"I didn't instigate shit."
"You did."
"I will," Tommy threatens the man, elbowing him in the side.
Wilbur stumbles, losing his footing.
"Woah Wilby!" Tommy grasps the hero before he falls off the edge. "Philza. Don't die, why're you standing so close to the edge?"
The man straightens back up with a roll of his eyes, "I'm fine. And anyways, it was your fault because you pushed me and-" Wilbur pauses, "Wait."
Tommy frowns, "What?"
"Did you just call me Wilby?" Wilbur asks, a smirk creeping into his voice.
Oh for fucks sake.
"No," Tommy grits, "Why would I call you that?"
"Aww Tommy, it's ok, don't be embarrassed," Wilbur laughs.
"I'll push you. I'll do it. I'll finish the job," He threatens, cheeks reddening.
"Aww Tommy, do you want a nickname too?" Wilbur grins.
"No! You're so fucking gross, I hate you!"
"Toms, you can call me Wilby, I know you want to," Wilbur hums in amusement.
Something fucking weird happens with Tommy's heart.
He may be dying.
His chest burns but it doesn't hurt.
"Don't call me that," He mutters half-heartedly, eyes averted, ears hot.
"Okay, Toms."
Tommy can't be bothered to fight him.
______
"Can you keep Michael from eating that? I need to use it," Ranboo mumbles as he turns the screwdriver.
"Maybe, I could, if I wasn't busy trying to stop Henry from eating the carpet, which you would know, if you helped me," Tubbo sings back sassily.
"Well maybe, you shouldn't have brought Henry in here," Ranboo retorts back. "Just a suggestion."
Tubbo frowns, "Don't get sassy with me,"
"What?" Ranboo shrugs innocently, "I'm just giving the same energy back."
" Ha, " Tubbo laughs, eyes darkening, "I will skin you, and sell your organs."
Ranboo stills.
Okay then.
"Ah, mhm, mhm," Ranboo nods, "Let's maybe not do that then."
______
"Stop, criminal!" Tommy shouts, "We are Crime Boys™️ and we will punish you!"
Wilbur frowns, "We are not 'Crime Boys'."
"Yes," Tommy decides, "We are. Crime Boys™️, we stop criminals and then we eat Mcdonald's."
"We are not eating Mcdonald's."
"Yes," Tommy decides, "We are."
"You don't get to just decide this without my consent."
"I just did," Tommy sighs. "You really can't keep up huh? Must be the old age."
"Okay, baby. "
"I am not a baby," Tommy seethes. "I am a man."
Wilbur snorts. "Yeah, a baby man, maybe."
"I will end you."
"Sure."
"Wait, where did the robber go?"
"Oh fuck."
_______
"Oh my god," Ranboo whispers as he gazed upon the beautiful chair. "This is magnificent."
"That is trueeee. This is a magnificent chair with magnificent hairrrr."
Ranboo has decided to ignore him.
"Michael do you want to sit in the chair?" He asks the toddler.
Michael raises his arms.
Ranboo picks him up, placing him in the pink chair.
It almost brings a tear to his eye. Michael looks so cute.
"Tubbo, Tubbo, take a picture," He nudges his friend.
"Okay, whatever you say. Michael say cheeeeese."
"Divorce!" Michael shouts with a grin.
Ranboo pales while Tubbo wheezes.
"I have taught him so much knowledgeeeeee," Tubbo cackles, " Yes Michael, divorcccce."
They are terrible parents.
______
"Ah shit!" Tommy bumps into Wilbur's shoulder as he avoids an arrow to the head. "Wilbur, move. That guy is going to kill us," He hisses.
"He's too far out of reach, I can't-" The hero cuts himself off with a sound of frustration as he draws the teenager closer to him.
"This is why guns are superior," Tommy comments helpfully. "If I had my gun, this situation would be very different and that man would be very dead."
"You're gun is full of darts, the best it would do is knock him out," Wilbur retorts as he pulls them down to the concrete, gripping Tommy's arm tightly.
"Better than him shooting us," Tommy rolls his eyes. "I bet Clementine would know what to do."
"Clementine is a fucking fish."
"She is my saviour , my guardian, my daughter."
Wilbur stares at him.
Tommy blinks, "What?"
"You're not okay in the head."
"Why do you always have to fucking bully me? Y'know what? You're not okay on the head. You know why? 'Cause you're fucking bal-"
Tommy yells as another arrow whizzes past them, imbedding itself in the wall behind.
This is not poggers. At all.
"If I die, tell Clementine that there is still nothing in my will for her and tell Henry that he was like a son to me," Tommy whispers solemnly.
Wilbur is staring straight ahead with eyes narrowed, "Shut up, you're not going to fucking die."
Rude.
The hero pulls him along by the wrist, handcuffs rattling as they move slowly.
"You can't just ignore my dying wishes-"
Tommy barely has time to react before an arrow shoots past them, nicking him along the cheek.
He gasps, hand reaching up to touch the skin and pulling away with blood smeared along his fingertips.
That dude fucking cut him.
"Ow, that fucking bitch-" Tommy's complaints are brought to a halt as long fingers cup his jaw, just a tad to soft to hurt.
Wilbur eyes are red. They're - they're almost scary. Except. Except well Tommy isn't scared because it's not directed at him. At least he doesn't think so.
"Wilbur?" Tommy mumbles.
The man runs his finger along the cut on his cheek before scowling.
"Be quiet for a bit," The man mutters and Tommy goes to protest but a hand is placed on his hair before the words can leave his mouth.
______
Tommy snaps back to reality with a jolt. He gasps, legs trembling.
"Let's go home," Wilbur hums, his hand momentarily stabilizing Tommy before he lets go.
What the fuck.
Tommy glances around the empty street, eyes furrowed. "Where's the shooter? The one with the fuckin' arrows?"
Wilbur smiles and it is terrifying. "Don't worry about it."
Oh Philza.
"Did you murder him?" Tommy whispers. "Oh my fucking Philza , did you just commit a crime? A murderous crime?"
Wilbur rolls his eyes as he starts walking, dragging Tommy along, "I said don't worry about it."
"And - and did you knock me out? Did you fuckin' drug me? Like, like last time at breakfast because that is not okay and I will sue you," Tommy rambles on.
"I did what I had to do," The man shrugs.
This is terrible. Tommy lives with a murderer.
"I can't believe you are actually insane, like, I was joking before but you're actually insane. You need therapy," Tommy tells the man gravely as they walk.
Wilbur looks over at him and shrugs once more, "He should've known not to do that."
"Do what? " Tommy throws his non-cuffed hand in the air, frustration and bewilderment creeping into his tone.
Wilbur just smiles, "Let's go home," He repeats, "We need to clean your cut."
Tommy raises his hand to his cheek. Huh. He's almost forgotten about that.
______
"I really don't think it needs disinfecting, like at all," Tommy tries to bargain, edging away from the hero despite the shackles connecting them.
"You need to clean it otherwise it'll get infected," Wilbur huffs, holding a liquid of pure evil .
Tommy sniffs, turning his head away, "No, I will simply refuse."
Wilbur raises an eyebrow, "Refuse an infection?"
"Yes," Tommy scoffs, "Do you think a weak infection could take me? I am one of the most powerful men on this planet and my immune system is in impeccable condition. I'll give the infection an infection," He declares, arms crossed.
Wilbur snorts, "Did you suddenly forget about the time you caught a cold?"
No.
Absolutely fucking not.
Tommy glares, "We do not speak of it."
"Hmmm," Wilbur hums with a smirk, "I seem to remember you being so out of it that you called Techno, Techie-"
"La, la, la, Wilbur is a dickhead who needs to shut the hell up," Tommy shouts, clamping his hands over his ears.
Wilbur rolls his eyes, "You are an actual child," He says before pausing, eyes widening marginally as a smirk slowly creeps onto his face, "Okay, Toms, listen."
Tommy lowers his hands cautiously, eyes narrowed. "What?"
"I have Philza plasters."
______
Phil sighs as he closes his book.
Well, he supposes reluctantly, time to check up on the kids.
He gets up slowly, draping the covers firmly over Techno who sleeps on obliviously.
The first room he checks is Ranboo's. He presses an ear to the wall and listens in for any auto tuned singing.
Silence.
He nudges the door open quietly, peeking a head inside and smiles.
The assembled pink chair is reclined all the way back and Ranboo lies on it, long legs dangling. Michael is propped on his chest, sleeping soundly with a screwdriver in his mouth. Slightly concerning but okay.
Phil glances down at the floor and notices Tubbo, curled up in a ball with the voice changer mic still attached to his face as he drools onto the carpet, hugging Henry to his chest.
The hero closes the door back softly, turning off the light.
He sighs, now time to release the boys from their forced get-along-shackles.
He checks Wilbur's room first and finds it empty.
Phil heads to Tommy's room and warily listens for any sounds of bickering.
He very slowly, and very carefully, opens the door.
The sight almost makes him coo aloud.
Wilbur and Tommy sit at the headrest of the bed, slumped against each other. Their shackled wrists lay in front of them as they sleep. Phil notes the hero designed plasters along Tommy's cheek and snorts when he realizes that it is Philza branded.
Phil looks down at the key in his palm and tilts his head. He could release them now.
He looks back up at them and smiles.
Nah.
_______
Phil closes the door behind gently.
Then he stubs his toe against the wall.
" Fuck," He hisses.
There's a distant sound of movement and Phil freezes.
"...Who is that?" Wilbur mutters.
Phil sweats.
"Techno?" Phil tries.
" Jump out the window. "
Distantly, Phil hears the sound of a window breaking. He winces.
Sorry Techno.