Flustered and Under the Weather

Epilogue: Right Back Where We Started

Tubbo was pretty sure he never wanted to see another burger in his life.

"Look, Tubs, I've got it!" Tommy exclaimed, balancing a patty on a spatula with carelessness. The boy tensed his muscles and squatted. "Five hundred and seventh times the charm! Wai- FUCK!" he said as he tossed the patty into the air, trying (and failing) to catch it. The slab of meat stuck to the ceiling, sizzling as it stained the overhead tile. Tubbo rolled his eyes.

Three months of working in the van, and Tommy's coordination was still horrendous.

That paled in comparison to Ranboo, who was terrified of spatulas entirely. He used plastic tongs to flip burgers. A few days ago, when Tubbo poked his husband with the kitchen utensil, Ranboo plastered himself to the nearest wall. Apparently, it only took one nightmare of a flying spatula to discourage Ranboo from ever using a regular spatula again.

And ever since the burger vans had been welded together, they had all been able to work at the same countertop instead of different kitchens entirely. Yes, welded; Foolish had brought over some tools and created one, long burger van. And he had done a pretty decent job; most of the seams were easily covered with paint, new tile, or a well-placed carpet.

In terms of furnishings, it was an amalgamation of the original vans. The establishment was decorated with red vinyl booths, while plain tables covered in succulents were scattered throughout. An entertainment hub with an indie flair. It really spoke to the personalities the restaurant belonged to.

Tubbo was happy to be back at work again. It kept him occupied, which was even more necessary after it took two months to renovate the van. And the new arrangement meant he could actually spend time with his husband, outside of the home.

"Maybe you should stick to painting napkin dispensers, Tommy. It's less likely to damage the ceiling, anyways," Ranboo said frankly. Tubbo nodded in agreement, only half-listening since he was preoccupied with the orders they had. Tommy frowned, his hands darting into his apron pocket.

"You're gonna eat those words when I nail the art of burger flipping. Stay in your lane, spatula boy," Tommy taunted. Ranboo puffed his chest, and looked down at the teenager.

Unfortunately for the enderman, Tommy had a trick up his sleeve. Or rather, in his pocket.

Tommy withdrew a white and black spatula from the folds of his apron, waving it menacingly at Ranboo. The taller promptly shrieked, drawing the attention of a few sitting customers. Tubbo loudly shushed them, and Ranboo lowered his voice to a whisper.

"I'm being threatened by my brand! You can't do that!"

"Ohoho, I just did," Tommy said. He kept stepping closer to Ranboo, lunging as though the utensil was a sword.

When Tommy finally made contact with Ranboo's uniform, the enderman shot a few feet into the air. He hit the ceiling, which let out a painful thump. The burger that Tommy had accidentally stuck to the ceiling finally fell to the floor.

Tubbo could feel the eyes of at least eight patrons burning into his, staring at the scene his friends were making.

"You guys! Can we fucking focus?!" Tubbo hissed under his breath. "There's no way we're gonna get all these orders done if you both keep trying to one-up each other."

"Fiiiine," Tommy groaned, readjusting his hat. Ranboo blew a tuft of hair from his eyes.

"Have any of you seem Quackity? We were supposed to meet fifteen minutes ago," Wilbur said, exiting the storage room with a bottle of wine. Tubbo sighed. Of course Tommy had let Wilbur into the van again. He may be one of the owners, but did he really have to be here all the time?