Jet Lag

chapter 6

  

1

Ranboo has always been a single unit. He drifted through school, happy to take the minor roles, to fill out the background. He had plenty of friends, close ones even, but he'd never been part of a pair before. Being with Tubbo takes a little getting used to. It was like breaking in a new pair of boots you really liked. They'd been together in an official capacity since Ranboo's trip to the UK. Truthfully, not much had changed since he'd returned, not outwardly. Tubbo still flirted with him shamelessly, stayed on call until his words were syrupy and sleepy and schemed the best ways to fluster him on stream. Perhaps he was what changed. Instead of hiding his affection behind jokes and laughter, he returned it full-force. The viewers were caught between thinking it was a bit and wondering quietly if it was more than that now. He liked the upper-hand he had, how he could call Tubbo "adorable" and watch the chat dissolve into nonsense.

Ranboo misses Tubbo, though. He wants to see the hiccup in his laugh in person, the fan of his fingers across a keyboard up-close. He wants to feel the warm weight against his chest where Tubbo's head fits perfectly. How his hands cup Tubbo's cheeks completely when he tilts his head up for a kiss.

Ranboo doesn't know how to do long-distance. Arguably, neither does Tubbo, but he takes to it more easily. He'd taken every first step, Ranboo conceded, and he'd trailed along dumbly. But it's bearable between them. It aches, but when Tubbo's voice crackles through his headphones at 3am, he knows he's not alone. It's a pathetic can on a string across oceans, but it's something.

Tubbo rambles ceaselessly about the mechanics of Tekkit, keeping Ranboo's stream thoroughly entertained. He's clearly picked up that it's an off-day and Ranboo wonders if he's obvious. He reads out a dono, trying to keep his mind on the game. Tubbo quiets.

"Are you and Tubbo going to meet up again?" His voice is hoarse from being quiet, and he clears his throat. Somehow it feels like the chat has conspired to make him miserable. He quickly checks his in-game furnaces for ore and hums a miserable note. "Yeah. I hope. I hope."

"Of course we are, my beloved!" Tubbo laughs. "No ocean can separate us."

His voice is bright and sure. Ranboo leans back and rubs his hands over his eyes. He's been staring at his screen too long and blinking is starting to hurt. If Tubbo were here, he'd push the hair out of his eyes and turn the lights off. Put him to bed and stay up on his own.

Here, now, they can't be together that way. They both need to be up, awake and fully-present. Tubbo had fallen asleep on call a few times, breath puffing into the receiver, and that was nice. But in the morning, it was just a dead battery and an empty bed.

"My beloved?" Ranboo croaks, hoping his voice doesn't give him away.

"You heard me! Right, chat?" Tubbo chirps. "Ranboo, my beloved."

2

Ranboo felt a little pride tickle his chest when Tommy invited him for the next modded Minecraft video. He was well and truly in, he thought. They were trying out a flying mod, like "elytra on crack" Tommy had said.

He's sort of surprised how well he gets along with Tommy. Off-camera he's still well and truly chaotic, but he's also sincere and genuine. He talks about Tubbo like he hung the moon, and Ranboo wonders if he should be jealous. Then Tommy, nutjob that he is, goes off about women, and Ranboo reminds himself that pigs aren't flying yet and they won't in the near future. And with Tommy comes Wilbur and Sam and Phil and Techno. They're older and Ranboo feels the inklings of imposter syndrome whenever they speak to him. He tries at first for polite but realizes how much of an asswipe it makes him seem in the middle of a raucous game of jackbox. So he eases into it, bearing the teasing good-naturedly and enduring a surprisingly scary shovel-talk from Phil.