Long title whoo

Anyway, here's your nice laid-back chapter I promised you!! Hope you enjoy ^w^

Sightseeing attempt number one: Exploring Mammoth Cave (Kentucky)

Phil

The cave's entrance looked like a mouth.

This was Phil's first thought as he stumbled forward, eyeing the cave with obvious uncertainty. Stalagmites and stalactites stretched up and down like jagged teeth, layer upon layer of chalky brown stone dripping from the ceiling into sharp points. Water collected on the top, oozing in tiny drops from the jewel-green moss that carpeted the roof of the cave. It was pretty, but the darkness eclipsing the inside of that beauty reminded him that humans were usually very small (there were, of course, a few notable exceptions, one of them being Ranb00), and very small things could very easily get very lost.

He gripped the handle of his pack, biting his bottom lip. He turned on his heel to stare at Ranboo, who wore the biggest grin Phil had ever seen on his face. Phil sighed. At least he'd be with friends on this trip.

Mammoth Cave was the biggest cave in the United States, and when Ranboo had heard this bit of trivia from a gas station manager all the way in Ohio, he had immediately begged Phil to take them there. Phil honestly thought Niagara Falls would have been a better tourist destination for them, but Ranboo had insisted so fervently it had been hard for any of them to say no.

Besides, now that he was looking at it, it did look somewhat pretty. Other than the obvious danger that they could encounter by going into a cave of that size; pitfalls, sudden drops, oxygen deprivation . . . he shook his head, shaking himself out of the mire of thoughts he found himself trapped in.

The crowd around them, consisting of . . . too many people for Phil to count-- maybe a dozen?-- were huddled around in small groups, whispering in awe at the open maw of the cave. They were not going to be alone on this guided tour. Somewhat comforting.

Shifting his foot, he heard the crunch of leaves under his sole.

Surrounding them was a tall forest, trees stretching up to brush their leaves against the sky. Huge leaves draped over one another to create a canopy that filtered light into a delicate foam-green, shadows darting along the mossy floor as animals flitted about above them.

A tall shadow peeked into Phil's vision, and he turned around in time to see Tommy leaning against a tree, kicking small leaves into the air with the toe of his boot and watching them flitter to the ground.

"So? What do you think of the cave so far?" Phil asked, walking over the rocky, moss-heavy terrain towards Tommy. "Doesn't it look like fun?" He gestured to the cave. Above them, a small bird flew in circles over their heads, cheeping cheerfully.

"Yeah, it does. Well . . . it's just . . ." Tommy hesitated. "I'm sad we had to leave Toast behind," he muttered, fixing his face into a pout. "He would have enjoyed it so much!"

"He might have destroyed some of the cave," Phil retorted, though he hoped his tone wasn't too abraising. "Besides, he'll be fine. This park runs a kennel purely for this reason, remember?" He pushed his hands into his pockets, leaning back on his heels and grinning over at the blonde.

Avoiding Phil's eyes, Tommy shrugged with one shoulder. He was still sulking, Phil figured, which was fine. He'd probably cheer up once they entered the caves. At least Tommy was actually prepared for the cave, what with his small pack of snacks, his water bottle filled with lemonade (which wasn't actually hydrating, Phil had warned him, but Tommy had waved the worrying off, saying it wouldn't matter), and the jacket he was carrying.

They'd all brought jackets-- the website had recommended it, warning them that it got much colder once they entered the lower levels of the cave-- and Tommy had his slung over his shoulder, a scarlet hoodie with pointed, felt devil horns on the hood that he had made Phil sew on for him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw Ranboo hop towards them, a spring in his step. His face was bright with excitement, his cheeks and nose painted a soft pink from the cool, breezy air. Pressed against the front of his chest, the jacket clutched in his arms spilled over the fold of his elbows, a black-and-white checkerboard pattern decorated with clips of gold.

Phil grinned at Ranboo. "Looks fun."

"Doesn't it?" Ranboo was practically bouncing up and down, then he seemed to remember something and halted in his tracks. Fumbling with his He brandished a small, metal flashlight at Phil, and the Brit accepted it, flicking it on and off to check if it would work.

" . . . sorry . . . there are no flashlights that are allowed to be turned on in the caves," interrupted one of the tour guides. Phil turned around to see a quiet-looking man with dark, wide eyes like a young deer, a ranger's hat tilted on his mess of muddy-brown hair. He smiled nervously at Phil, nodding at the flashlight. "You can keep it near you, of course, but we'd prefer you didn't turn it on."

"Oh, no problem." Phil unzipped one of his pockets and dropped the flashlight inside, zipping it back up and giving the tour guide a friendly smile. He saw Ranboo quietly pocket his flashlight, too, but not before shoving one towards Tommy insistently.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Phil Watson. Really looking forward to this tour." Phil stuck out his hand, and the tour guide shook it, returning the smile.

"You're a Brit?" asked the tour guide with interest, dropping his hand. "We don't tend to see very many of you guys around here. Oh-- my name is Jeoffrey Kendell, I've been a tour guide for Mammoth Cave National Park for five years now."

Phil felt someone grab at his jacket, and Tubbo peeked his head over Phil's shoulder, staring at Jeoffrey with wide eyes. "Will there be bats?" he asked, temporarily shy from all the tourist eyes around and upon him. Phil felt the sharp corner of a flashlight pressing from Tubbo's hand into his back, making him wince, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.

Jeoffrey leaned closer, frowning. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"Bats," Tubbo repeated, gaining more confidence and letting go of Phil's jacket. He nodded at the cave. "Are there any bats in your cave? I've always wanted to see bats up close."

"Are there bats? Well, there are certainly bats here," answered Jeoffrey. "Some are big and some are really small. Most of them don't live in the cave, but there are a couple of species which prefer to roost in Mammoth."

"Oooh!" Tubbo bounced up on his tippy toes. One of his arms looped around Phil's shoulders, his chin resting on Phil's collar. Phil lifted a hand to push Tubbo's chin gently away with one hand, and Tubbo jumped back, not losing any of this excited energy. "Bats! Phil, there's bats! That's so cool!"

"I'm glad you think so," Jeoffrey replied, smiling at Tubbo's excitement. A small ruckus came from the crowd nearby, and all three of their gazes switched towards it.

A man in a roughly treated grey jacket was brandishing a bottle of beer, his chin decorated with chiselled grey stubble. Jeoffrey hesitated for a moment, lifting his hand, then lowered it again and cast an apologetic look at the two of them. "I'm so sorry, I've got to go and help the others take care of this . . . I hope I'll be able to see you again in the caves."

"I'll be looking forward to it," smiled Phil. Jeoffrey was a nice person, he didn't think he'd mind seeing him again. It was a welcome reprieve from the sour-faced, angry, or plain old rude people he had met on this journey. With a two-fingered salute, Jeoffrey walked nervously over to the crowd, practically sweating. His face was a picture of anxiety. How had he survived this long as a tour guide, Phil wondered?

Tubbo broke Phil out of his thoughts, seizing him by the front of his shirt with both hands and shaking him back and forth. "Bats!" he kept repeating, eyes shining. "Bats, Phil, bats!"

"I-- heard," managed Phil, trying to pry Tubbo's hands off of his shirt. Unheeding of Phil's attempts to free himself, Tubbo continued, going off on an energetic rant about echolocation and the anatomy of a bat's wings. Phil grabbed Tubbo's hands, stopping him mid-sentence. "Mind letting go of my shirt?"

"Oh!" Tubbo backed off and nearly tripped over a nearby rock. "Sorry! I just got excited."

"I can see that," Phil laughed, grabbing Tubbo by the arm to steady him. "Careful you don't fall. I imagine Ranboo's going to have a hard enough time with his ankle and all, I don't want another one of us to have to take it easy on this trip."

"What're you talking about, Phil, I'm fine," Ranboo said breezily, clapping a hand on Phil's shoulder. His sunglasses wobbled on his nose and he reached a hand up to steady them. "I can walk anywhere! I will have no trouble. Absolutely zero."

---

"I am going to die."

Ranboo's arms were flung around Tubbo's shoulders, chin propped up at an angle against Tubbo's shoulder. "I think I am genuinely going to die."

Phil sighed, handing Ranboo a plastic water bottle. The taller seized it gratefully, lifting it to his lips and gulping down the water almost feverishly. A few seconds elapsed, water spilling out of the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin, before he capped the bottle again and shook himself out. "Ah, that felt good. Thanks."

"No problem. I've got a few more of them in my bag, if anyone wants one." He glanced around the group questioningly, but he was met with a chorus of nos, Tubbos' slightly more garbled by Ranboo's arms snaking around his neck. "Well, we're stopped for a while, so if anyone needs it, just let me know."

The group of tourists were stopped at a small ledge that looked out across a deep cavern, filled with stalagmites rising up from the damp, blackened floor like spikes on some sort of danger RPG. A thin, hollow metal pipe was the only separation between the chipped corners of the ledge and the plummeting drop below.

"This is the formation known as Frozen Niagara," announced another of the guides, a woman with a head of thick buttery-blonde locks and a face full of freckles. Strapped onto her head were a pair of thick glass goggles, a small light strip shining on each corner. "It's a flowstone formation, a sheet of carbon calcite that formed over hundreds of years, and it's one of the most famous formations here. Just down that way, in a little bit, we'll see the Bottomless Pit, and after we go a little further we'll be able to see Giant's Coffin."

Phil glanced up and whistled.

A huge sheet of stone fell down from the roof of the cave, its surface rough like sandpaper, a chandelier of rock. Small, sharp stalagmites dripped from the mass of stone, giving it the appearance of falling water, or at least some sort of stone that could move as gracefully. It was taller than any of the stalagmites they had seen thus far, cascading from the ceiling and nearly brushing the ground.

It was imposing, and massive, and oh, was it magnificent.

One of the tourists reached a hand up, trying to touch it, and the third tour guide snapped at them to stop. "Oil from your hands could ruin the architecture of the caves," he reprimanded the tourist, folding his arms over his chest. He was tall and skinny, his pale skin painted with dark shadows in the unlit caves. "Frozen Niagara is a precious formation. Don't touch it."

The tourist snatched their hand back with a quick apology and vanished back into the crowd of awed, admiring observers. Phil shook his head, both at the actions of the tourist and the tour guide, and glanced back over at his own group.

Tubbo and Ranboo were sitting on the floor, sharing Ranboo's water bottle back and forth. The two of them were sweaty and grinning at each other, snatches of chatter rising from the small corner they had settled into, both wedged into a space between the stairs and a small overhang filled with lumpy stalagmites.

Meanwhile, Tommy was . . . where was Tommy? Phil turned around to see him half-bent over the railing, staring down at the spike-filled cavern below them, expression filled with awe. As he leaned a little further forward, the railing made a worrying creak, the metal bar wobbling under Tommy's weight.

A bolt of panic went through Phil like lightning, and he seized hold of Tommy's arm, dragging him away from the edge. Tommy yelped in surprise, tripping over a rock and falling backwards onto his ass. "Oww!" he complained, sprawled out on the ground. "Why'd you do that?"

"The railing was about to give way," Phil pointed out, motioning to the tilted railing to their left. Tommy squinted at it, and his eyes widened as a small section of the pole gave a short crack and crumbled into the dark cave.

Tommy swallowed hard. "Oh."

Tubbo glanced up at Phil, drawing his attention towards him. "Phil, did they say something about a pit? The Bottomless Pit? I wanna see the Bottomless Pit!"

As the tour guide finished speaking, the group started moving again, families mumbling and murmuring in amazement about the cave formations. Frozen Niagara only gave a small shudder, staying sturdy even as the tramping of dozens of human feet made most of the other rocks quake from the vibrations.

"The Bottomless Pit does sound . . . interesting," Phil said, settling for that word rather than intimidating or dangerous. "Well, we'll get to see it in a bit. Ranboo, Tubbo, pick yourselves up. We've got a cave to explore."

Tubbo and Ranboo clambered upwards, untangling themselves on the way up. Tommy, already hopped back up on his feet, was apparently trying to see how fast he could drink a whole bottle of water.

"I thought you said you didn't want-- Tommy!" Phil sighed as Tommy forced the rest of the water down his throat, ending it with a dramatically noisy swallow, and wiping the corners of his mouth with his shirt sleeve.

"Ah, that felt good." He caught Phil's gaze and frowned, the corners of his lips turning down in a particularly Tommy-esque pout. "Hey, I was thirsty, don't look at me like that," Tommy whined, pushing the crumpled water bottle into his pocket and crossing his arms at Phil. "I'm not trying to drown myself."

"This way, folks," the blonde tour guide called to the stragglers, raising her hand and beckoning them forward. Phil gave a short wave in reply and hauled Tommy forward by the elbow.

Tubbo and Ranboo joined them, chattering on and on about what they had already seen thus far. Tommy quickly joined in, grabbing Ranboo by the shoulders and shaking him, talking so fast about his most recent brush with danger that Phil was surprised the two could even understand him.

The guides took them onto a small path that hugged the wall, mostly consisting of rock ledges under their feet that would shiver dangerously at the tourists' excited tramping. Metal beams-- sturdier than the ones they had recently encountered, luckily-- supported the ledges from the underside, and thin, strong steel bars surrounded the side that spilled out onto the cavern.

Phil hopped onto the next part of the trail, avoiding a small hole partway between two slabs of layered rock. Crumbs of stone splintered off the ledge and fell down into the hole beyond, vanishing into the shadow. Phil watched them fall, a shiver running down his spine.

Behind him, the others payed no attention to the danger the sheer drop posed to them beyond the occasional gasp as one of them looked down. In fact, Tommy was walking backwards for a better view of his audience, still spinning the tale about his near death.

" . . . and then it crumbled," Tommy said dramatically, spreading his arms wide, somewhat like a storyteller trying to get toddlers excited about a dramatic scene in a book. "If not for Phil, I would have died!"

"I wouldn't say that," Phil replied, rolling his eyes. "The drop isn't that far, and we would have been able to call an ambulance."

Tubbo hopped along the trail like a little mouse, darting this way and that, peeking over the edge for a dash of excitement and then scurrying to hug the wall, face blanched with terror. "Yeah, but it'd still hurt pretty bloody bad, Phil," he reminded him, back pressed to the rock wall.

Phil ran his hand over an outcropping of murky-pale crystals jutting out from the underside of a rock. They looked like a shimmering group of roots, sprouting from the rock to twist around anything that offered a steady surface. "Exactly. I never said it wouldn't hurt, I just said Tommy probably wouldn't have died."

"Probably," mimicked Tommy, curling his fingers into quotation marks. "You're so comforting to go on a death-defying cave exploration trip with, you know."

Phil laughed and continued to walk. More crystals reached white-murky claws out at him, the glow of the tour guide's lanterns lighting them up a fiery orange.

He didn't know why anyone said 'clear as crystal'; these rocks were not clear, and neither were many crystals. Was it because you could see through them? That was probable.

"And here's another pretty famous rock formation," called one of the tour guides, the snappish, lanky one with a sour attitude and a pale complexion. His eyes were shining now, his love for the cave system all the more obvious in the dim light of their lanterns. "It's called Flowering Vine, and it's a series of crystals that travel down the sheer rock face like a climbing vine."

"Ooh!" Ranboo's attention snapped to the crystal formation travelling down the wall, his hands fastened on the metal railing as he peered out at the crystals. "That's so pretty, Phil! Look! Aren't you glad we came!"

"Yes, very." Phil laughed, running a hand through his hair to sweep his bangs back. "It's very pretty, that's for sure."

"I know! I knew it. I knew we could go for a day without any danger." Ranboo jumped up and down, and the railing creaked worryingly under him. For the second time that day, Phil prepared to grab one of the boys back from a dangerous ledge if need be. "It's so prett--"

A huge crack cut them all off, a sound like a gunshot, too loud and echoing in the cavernous space. Murmurs sparked immediately afterwards in the crowd, people looking around with wide, confused eyes.

Phil realised what was happening just as soon as the tour guides did.

"Everyone get away!" shouted Jeoffrey, running into the crowd. He threw his hands into the air, trying to rush everyone forward. "A stalactite is falling, and it's going to set off an in-cave avalanche!"

. . . it appeared that Ranboo had been wrong.

Sightseeing attempt number two: Hide-and-Seek in the Appalachian Mountains (Maine)

Tommy

There was something that could definitely be said about choking your friend.

It sure wasn't fun.

How had Tommy gotten himself into this situation exactly? He didn't know. But it was definitely happening. His hand was definitely hooked inside the back of Ranboo's shirt, choking him as the two of them dangled far above the grassy ground, and it was, definitely, not fun.

But let's back up a bit. A bit of buildup never hurt anyone, did it? Besides, Tommy's entire life was flashing before his eyes, and this particular scene seemed to be playing on loop.

---

Tommy was sure that none of the others would be able to find him. It was completely impossible.

He was hidden all the way up in a maple tree, one of the tallest that he could find. It was so tall, in fact, that he could see from the top of the mountain all the way out to the sea. Who knew mountains could form so close to an ocean?

He was laying on a sturdy branch near the top, supported by a network of branches that stretched from the top of the tree to the ground. The one he was laying on would be something to look forward to in spring. It was already beautiful, the leaves already blooming, wide, and flat, and, most importantly, easy to hide in.

Resting his chin on his hands, he looped his legs around the thicker part of the branch, plucking lazily at the leaves that were in reach. The branch gave a shudder and he paused, giving the tree a firm poke.

"You better not give out on me," he warned it, frowning down at the bark, which did not respond. "I'm trusting you, okay?"

The branch nodded up and down in the breeze, as serene as . . . well, as a branch waving in the wind. Tommy had never been good with metaphors.

He sighed, slumping down to wait for someone to find him, or at least for something interesting to happen. The mountains were a bit big, he supposed, so it might have not been the best idea to try and play hide-and-seek in them.

He had been the one to offer the idea-- it would be fun, he had claimed, getting to play hide-and-seek in a bigger arena than anyone ever had before. They might even set a new world record!

Everyone had been enthusiastic about the idea, and everyone had prayed not to be the seeker.

Including Tommy.

. . . Tommy pitied Ranboo.

Even if the mountains were big, and not completely suited to hide-and-seek, they were still beautiful. The trees were mostly bare, it being just the beginning of spring and all, but down on the ground of the mountains, life thrived. Moss carpeted the ground, plush ivy dripping from the branches to graze the forest floor, even little buds of flowers and leaves popping up from tree to tree.

The sky overhead was a robust shade of blue, the sun shining cool, gentle light through the filter of maple leaves. The sun warmed Tommy's skin, even as the wind whipped through the branches to sting his cheeks and turn them a shade of apple-red. He had left his jacket in the car with Phil, since he didn't think he needed it, and he had been right. It would have been nice if he had thought to bring along a granola bar, though.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, pushing his snarl of bangs back from his face. What could he do while he waited? Not much, but maybe there was something fun.

He could see the little blur of green and brown that was Tubbo, hiding all the way at the base of a birch tree. He had managed to fit his entire body into a small hollow of the tree and curled his white jacket over his shoulders and chest to match the white bark of the birch. His hair and pants blended almost perfectly in with the green and brown of the rest of the mountain, so he had probably gotten lucky when he won the hider/seeker rock-paper-scissors with Ranboo.

Speaking of which, where was Ranboo?

Tommy spun around on his little branch, clinging to the base of it with his legs. The sun was bright overhead, interrupting his vision with dizzyingly bright rays. Fitting a hand over his eyes to shade them, he squinted out at the scene, biting his bottom lip as he focused on surveying the mountain.

He couldn't see the seeker, which was odd, to say the least of it. Ranboo tended to stand out in a crowd. It was worrying that he had managed to disappear, especially on such a widely visible plane as a mountainside. Maybe he had spotted Tommy and was sneaking up from behind, the scoundrel!

Tommy decided that he would need to take extra measures to ensure his continued concealment.

He checked and double-checked that his legs were secure, curled around the branch and hugging it as hard as they could. He even smacked the branch with his palm, testing how much weight it could withstand. It didn't even shiver. That was comforting.

Sucking in a breath of preparation, he squeezed his eyes shut and let gravity take control.

He dropped upside-down, his legs hanging on while his torso and arms fell underneath, flip-flopping the world on its head. The cocoon of leaves he had fallen into helped shade him from the bright sun, and he shoved some away so he could get a better view.

Finally, he had a good view! Those were rare when you were sitting in a tree. "Right, here we go," he murmured, shaking hair back from his face and turning his head from side to side. "Now, where are you . . . ?"

The wind, apparently annoyed that he was ignoring gravity, blew a handful of leaves into his face. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and spat them back out, wrinkling his nose at the taste.

As he opened his eyes, he saw a familiar face . . . what, about three feet below him?

"Ranboo!" Tommy yelped, surprised at first, then clapped a hand over his mouth with a gasp as he remembered he probably shouldn't tell Ranboo where he was.

Ranboo's head snapped upwards, eyes wide, and as he spotted Tommy dangling from the tree, an almost dumbfounded smile settled across his lips. "Tommy? Hello there, I didn't see you for a moment."

Tommy nearly slipped and fell.

That would have definitely been bad; it was lucky that he had managed to get a handhold on his branch again. He pulled himself upright, heart beating faster than what it should have for a casual game of hide and seek-- but Ranboo had scared him! And he had nearly fallen out of a tree. Besides, Tommy didn't much like to be scared.

He blinked back to the real world at the sound of snapping wood: Ranboo was trying to get onto the branches below him. It would only take a couple of seconds before Tommy was in his reach, and the game would be over for him.

Tommy seized the next highest branch and jumped to his feet, tugging himself closer to the trunk of the tree. A few handholds presented themselves to him, a couple of woodpecker holes, soft spots of wood he could easily dig his hands into.

Thanking whatever deity-- or bird-- had dug these into the bark, he used them to hop up, up and away from Ranboo's hands. They had covered the seekers' hands in red paint so that it would be easier to tell when one of them was tagged. It was useful, definitely, but also a little scary if Tommy was being completely honest; the paint almost looked like blood.

It wasn't blood, though. It was hide and seek, but also a little bit like paintball, now that he thought about it. Except not really either. Seekers didn't get to slap the hiders with a paint-covered hand and drag them off to the car in regular hide and seek. And paintballers didn't usually shove their entire bodies into trees like some kind of cat, as Tubbo was still doing.

Hmm. If it wasn't either hide-and-seek or paintball, what should he call it? He should probably make up a new name! Yeah. He was allowed to do that, wasn't he?

Hide-and-paint? Maybe? No, that's a stupid name.

He barely had time to blink back to reality before his ears pricked up, catching the sound of snapping branches. Tommy watched with considerable interest as Ranboo managed to claw his way onto the lowest branch, red paint streaking over the bark as he struggled through the thick mire of branches and leaves.

Hopping up onto a small, interwoven platform of branches, Tommy looked down at Ranboo's struggles. It looked somewhat like he was drowning in a pile of leaves, if Tommy looked at it from the right angle. (It was kind of sad, honestly. Ranboo would probably be eaten by wolves or a bear one day with those kinds of climbing skills.)

Fastening a hand around a slim branch, he tilted forward, bending over to smirk at Ranboo's positively decrepit tree-climbing abilities.

"Come and get me!" he called, cupping a hand around his mouth.

Ranboo glanced upwards, his eyes fixing on Tommy, his fingers grabbing onto a slight branch that wavered under his weight. Wind whistled through the leaves, Tommy's grin widened under Ranboo's stare. "If you can even climb that high, that is."

Ranboo made a noise like a steaming kettle, his entire face blooming crimson. The branch in his grip snapped in half and tumbled to the ground, the tufted grass hiding it from view. Tommy's eyes followed it as it fell, then drifted back over to Ranboo.

"What, too scaredy-cat to come n' get me?"

With surprising speed, Ranboo jumped from branch to branch, struggling a few more times but making his way upwards with a quickness that only embarrassment could have gifted him. "Oh, you just wait until I'm up there--"

When the seeker was only a few branches below his feet, Tommy lazily hooked his foot on a nearby branch, lifting it upwards and then letting it snap back like a rubber band. The rebound carried it all the way down to Ranboo, the slimmest part of the branch smacking him right on the nose

Ranboo yelped in pain and panic, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be climbing a tree. He lost his grip entirely, his foot slipping underneath him, and gravity finally took control again.

Tommy's eyes widened, all of his senses lighting up with alarm. "Shit!"

The two of them were fairly high up, Tommy had known that, but he hadn't fully registered it until Ranboo was actually falling. The ground was at least a dozen metres or so below them, and there were just enough branches that ensured that Ranboo would get a body full of bruises in addition to an unknown amount of broken bones.

Tommy also knew that, while his mind was often liable to get frozen in shock in situations like these, adrenaline often took over and controlled his actions for a little while.

So, naturally, his adrenaline decided that Ranboo was a friend he couldn't afford to lose in such a stupid way as a spine injury, and Tommy soon found himself pushing off of the tree trunk and diving into the thicket of branches after him.

Which was pretty much how he had ended up in this situation.

Once the two had landed (if you could call it that, they were still a good fifteen metres above the ground) (50 feet, you're welcome Americans) (yes this tree is a tall tree but it's also right on an overhanging cliff, they'd basically fall into a valley, so don't be mean to me about overestimating tree heights I'll cry), Tommy found that his stomach had sustained most of his injuries. That had been the first thing he had been able to grasp, as he quickly realised that his stomach was hurting more than anything else.

Agonisingly enough, the impact had knocked the wind out of him and nearly smacked him unconscious. He had landed on the branch in a particularly painful way-- the shock from the blow sending little tingles through his nerves, the rest of his body curling around it like some sort of dying worm-- but he had managed to grab Ranboo by the back of his shirt, stopping him from falling all the way onto the ground, and that was the important thing.

Except now, Ranboo was being killed in a completely different way, this time by strangulation.

"Tommy-- could you let go--" Ranboo gasped. Tommy felt fingers, still wet with thick, red paint, claw at his hands, though they were too slippery to get a good grip. "Tommy!"

As he was still reeling from the shock of being thrown into a tree branch, Tommy could only let out a mangled groan in reply. His face was damp with sweat, and his stomach was tossing and turning like a ship caught in a violent storm of puke.

"I think . . . " he wheezed. His voice came out in a raspy gurgle, his lungs still recovering from their near death. "I think I just saw God."

So this was what it was like to be a freshly caught fish. Dazed, dizzy, and extremely limp.

"Good for you. Can you-- can you let go, p-please?" Ranboo coughed loudly, still managing to sound mildly annoyed even as he was being throttled. "Now, Tommy!"

Too dazed to do anything but comply, Tommy did as he was told and dropped Ranboo. Ranboo let out a shriek, his hands shooting out in front of him to try and grab a tree branch, but they slipped, and then Ranboo could do nothing but fall.

Only a couple of silent, drawn-out moments passed before Tommy realised exactly what he had done.

"Oh."

Well, there was nothing to be done about it anymore. Ranboo had asked him to let him go, so this wasn't really Tommy's fault.

He leaned over his tree branch, being very careful as to not fall off, and peered down at Ranboo's uncontrolled descent-- otherwise called falling-- down, down, down into the valley below. Wind streaked through the air and the tree he was sitting on bobbed up and down, branches and leaves hissing in what sounded like laughter.

Tommy couldn't really blame the tree; it was a pretty funny scenario. He managed to catch a couple more snippets of Ranboo's black-and-white jacket before the boy vanished completely under the thicket of tree branches in the valley, and Tommy was left with nothing but the rustle of leaves and the faint sounds of distress coming from underneath his branch.

"I guess I should probably . . . " Tommy stared down at the drop below, his fingernails digging into the soft wood he was still lying on top of. " . . . yeah."

He drew his knees up to his chest, curling up around his branch, and slowly lowered himself down onto the next highest branch he could find. With a soft oof, he dropped down into a sitting position, then squirmed through a thin gap between two pine trees that had grown hugging Tommy's maple between them. The thin, sharp needles raked past his cheeks, though he kept his eyes tightly shut so nothing would poke them and startle him into missing a step.

Once the ground was easy enough to jump to, Tommy grabbed a branch a foot or so above his head and pushed off his own branch, swinging to and fro for a couple of moments. He stared downwards; the ground suddenly looked much further away than it had. Oh, bloody hell. I'm really doing this, aren't I?

He gulped, squeezing the branch tightly before summing up the courage and letting go. His foot pushed off the branch under him, slipping a little and sending him tipping over onto his stomach. He yelped and twisted around, trying to force himself to tip back, and by some miracle it worked. He wasn't sure what he would have done if it hadn't, but it did, and so he didn't have to think about that.

He flung his arms over his face as the ground approached, but the impact only sent jolts of pain through his legs and ankles, not shooting upwards through his entire nervous system like the last landing had.

The force of his swing had carried him a few feet forward, faster and farther than he had expected, and he ended up sliding right onto the tufted edge of the cliff. His toes peeked out over the sheer drop, and his heart hurled itself into his stomach, his body going numb with terror.

"W-woah!" he cried out, his eyes staring down at the valley. The whole valley was a slash through the mountainside, a small canyon like a single claw mark digging deep down into the earth. Moss and snarled grass hung like fruit on the vine off the canyon walls, and a few lone trees had ventured to stick their branches over the side, but Tommy knew they wouldn't be enough to halt his descent.

Still, his body wasn't done moving forward, and he felt himself tipping forward even as he tried to force himself away. He dug his heels into the dirt, wheeling his arms back in panic, and managed to throw himself backwards and away from the sheer cliff face.

He sighed in relief, lifting a hand to smear away some sweat dripping from his brow. "Whew! That could have gone much worse," he remarked, kneeling down. "Now to get Ranboo. How should I go about this?"

His eyes darted over to a small wooden post nailed to the ground. It was tattered and bent by the post, but still legible.

Valley Trail
½ miles
15 min

Tommy stared at it, a small feeling of dread soaking into his heart.

. . . it was not going to be a fun fifteen minutes.

"So does this mean that you're caught, or . . . "

Ranboo's chin was pressed into the crook of Tommy's shoulder, the brunette's arms curled around Tommys' own so as to stop him from falling. He could feel Ranboo's breathing against his back, each wince he made at every one of Tommy's missteps or stumbles on the rough terrain.

Tommy rolled his eyes even though he knew Ranboo couldn't see it. "Yeah, me saving you from dying in a ditch definitely means you're better than I am at this game."

"If I remember correctly, you're the one who dropped me," Ranboo teased. His breath tickled Tommy's ear, and a short shiver dropped down the blonde's spine. "And the rules say if you get red paint on you, you're found!" He was surprisingly cheerful for someone that had just fallen down a cliff.

He had also sported surprisingly little injuries. Tommy had found him shoved halfway into a thorny bush, the brambles ripped apart from the blow. His eye was surrounded by a black-purple bruise and small slices had dug into his skin from the thorns, not to mention the fact that his ankle had been twisted in quite the opposite direction that it was supposed to go, but he had been making so many jokes that Tommy doubted he was even in pain.

"You only got the paint on my clothes," Tommy pointed out, and Ranboo laughed cheerfully, lifting a paint-covered hand off of Tommy's shoulder. It was only a couple more moments before Tommy felt the cool, wet feel of paint being smeared onto his cheek, and he gasped in indignation. "How dare you--"

His foot caught on a nearby stone and he tumbled forward a couple of paces before righting himself. Ranboo let out a short hiss of pain, his fingers clenching suddenly around Tommy's upper arm so tightly that it hurt.

Tommy craned his head back to shoot a short glare at Ranboo. "That hurt, thank you very much. If you wouldn't do it again, I would very much appreciate it." He gave Ranboo a little shake. "I can just drop you and run off, you know."

Ranboo laughed. "You wouldn't do that. Besides, Phil would kill you, I'm pretty sure."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Tommy carried on in silence for a while, only hearing the crunch of leaves under his feet and Ranboo's slow, quiet breathing. It was somewhat peaceful, actually. The overhead sun melted like warm butter onto his skin, the scent of fresh buds and flowers carrying the slightest hint of rain as it fluttered past him on the breeze. Even the smell of wet paint wasn't completely unpleasant, nor the scratchy feel of ripped fabric brushing against his skin each time Ranboo shifted.

"This feels somewhat familiar, dunnit?" he commented, and Ranboo laughed, the echoes of the laughter rumbling down into his stomach and sending a shiver down Tommy's spine. He grinned as Ranboo's laughter faded away, lifting one hand to brush away a tuft of blonde hair from his eyes.

He tilted his head backwards to inspect the sky, though he had to squint so he wouldn't immediately get blinded by the sun. The sunny day pierced through the leaves and would easily have screwed with his vision, which he most definitely did not want to happen.

Still, it seemed that even with good eyes, he wasn't able to watch his step. His foot landed on a stick, snapping it in half, and he had to grab onto a nearby branch to help stabilise himself.

Ranboo sucked in a surprised breath at the jolting movement, his grip tightening again. Tommy stopped walking and was about to turn around to give Ranboo a piece of his mind when he remembered that Ranboo wasn't actually walking behind him, that in fact, Tommy was carrying him on his back.

As though the universe was practically taunting Tommy on his inability to snap at Ranboo, the injured seeker just had to open his mouth and snark at Tommy. "Can you not fall over, please?"

Tommy gave Ranboo's non-wounded ankle a slight thwack with his foot, though his gaze dropped back down to the ground so he wouldn't accidentally trip and injure himself like Ranboo had. "Can you not complain, please?"

"I'll do my best," Ranboo replied snootily, pointing his nose into the air. His fingers drummed on Tommy's shoulders, dropping one by one and then lifting off again. "How many more stairs are left, anyway?"

"Why don't you get down off my back and see for yourself?" Tommy grumped. "I don't see you doing any walking."

Tommy's head was smacked a couple of seconds later. He stuck his bottom lip out in a pout but carried on without complaining; Ranboo was the injured party after all, it stood to reason that Tommy should be doing all the walking. Even if it was bloody irritating.

After a few more minutes of slow trudging through mud and knotted grass, Tommy grumpily kicking at bits of leaves and half-decayed acorns all the way, they found themselves within sight of the gravel parking lot where Phil had parked the car.

Toast was the first to see the two of them and he instantly threw his entire body at the door, wiggling in excitement and licking the car window in his earnest desire to get to them. Phil glanced around a second later, and the cool, calm expression quickly dropped from his face as he saw Ranboo being carried by Tommy.

"Oh my god, what happened?" he asked, slamming the car door shut as he strode towards them.

Tommy offered him a sheepish grin, untangling Ranboo from his back. The American fell on his ass onto the ground, letting out a small oof and shooting Tommy an indignant stare.

"That was just mean," he complained. "You had no reason to do that."

"Oh trust me, Boo, I had plenty," Tommy replied, raising his eyebrows. "We got into a little bit of trouble, Phil." He clasped his hands together, pasting on the slightly embarrassed smile he had had on just a few moments before. "Sorry."

"I can see that. Oh, just-- get in the car. We'll go grab Tubbo and find some other place to have a good time in." Phil shook his head, pressing the back of his hand against his eyes.

"I dunno Phil, we might just be cursed." Ranboo shrugged, but his expression was still faintly worried. " . . . maybe if we try one more time, though?"

Sightseeing attempt number three: Fishing at Lake Eerie (New York)

Ranboo

"Don't worry, guys," Ranboo reassured his friends. "It can't get any worse than last time, can it?"

Tommy and Tubbo stared at each other, then up at Ranboo. Both were sporting little spots of red all over their arms and shoulders, courtesy of the bees that Tubbo had been sharing a tree with (both Tubbo and the bees had been completely unaware of any such arrangement until Tommy had taken it upon himself to greet Tubbo by knocking on the tree trunk as though it were a front door, a very bad idea).

"I would say it couldn't, but then I would have said it couldn't have gotten worse after that avalanche in the caves," muttered Tommy, crossing his arms over his chest. "It got pretty bad."

Ranboo sighed, drooping like a wilted flower. "Come on. We're just fishing. How bad could it really get?"

It might have been bad luck to say that, especially considering where they were. In another forest, out in the wilderness, but this time it had been tamed down a little. Ranboo and the others were standing on a dock, the wood covered in wet, sea-green moss that almost seemed to breathe in the mist-thick air. The dock had been built out on a deep lake, the water filled with writhing kelp and seagrass, and it was so clear that Ranboo could see down to the very bottom, where fish swam around and nibbled at the grass-fuzzy rocks in hope of finding some sort of food.

Phil was sitting at a nearby picnic table, a display of sandwiches spread out around him for when the three of them decided to get hungry and wanted something to eat. And sure, maybe the book he was reading looked interesting, but it probably wasn't better than fishing because they would be doing it together!

. . . or so Ranboo had thought, anyway.

It was early evening, too, since that was when Ranboo had heard the most fish came up to the surface. They would definitely need all the luck they could get. He had never actually fished before, so this would be a new experience! Didn't people say new experiences were good? Maybe he should tell Tommy that. It might help his case.

"Come on," he repeated, stretching his hands out in front of him. He even tilted his head to the side a little bit, his hair falling into his eyes. "Come on, Tommy, it won't get that bad."

Tommy turned his head to stare out at the rippling water. He frowned, the corners of his lips turning down into a slight pout. "If you keep saying that, it'll just get worse and worse, you know."

"You don't know that!" Ranboo gave them all a pleading look, and knew he had won when Tommy let out a long sigh, looking rather as though he would rather be saying anything else.

"Alright, listen," Tommy began, shooting Tubbo a cautionary stare.

At that exact moment, Tubbo realised that Tommy was giving in and whirled around, his mouth falling open in shock as Tommy continued to speak. "Tommy, you are not about to--"

"Shh. Just listen, Tubbo," Tommy whispered. "You'll understand in a second, just . . . go along with it, okay?"

Ranboo was starting to actually get a bad feeling about this sudden agreement, but he didn't have time to say so before Tommy was talking again.

"You've won, Boo. I'll go along with this crazy. But!" He held up one finger, startling Ranboo into taking a step back. "You're buying all the road trip food for the next week."

Ranboo gasped, genuinely surprised. An entire week? That they would then milk for all it was worth, thereby draining Ranboo of his money? Money that could be spent on other things, like buying the local sweet treats in the towns that they stopped in?

"That's asking too much!" he declared, shaking his head.

Behind him, he heard a muffled bark and the sound of sopping wet paws hit the wooden dock, and knew that Toast was already having fun inspecting the water. If only Tommy and Tubbo could act in the same way, he thought ruefully.

Tommy turned on his heel, spinning so his back was facing Ranboo. "Then we don't have a deal," he said smugly, and Ranboo just knew that he was grinning.

Tubbo, now apparently realising what Tommy was doing, also turned around, though he couldn't stop himself from giggling just a little bit.

"Now you're laughing at me!" Ranboo whined, gesturing out at Tubbo. He blinked back faux tears. "Look! What kind of friends would do this to me?"

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm . . ." Tubbo tried to defend himself, dropping his voice to try and imitate a serious tone, though he stopped in the middle of his sentence, ruining the dramatic effect. "No, I guess I am laughing at you. And trust me, it's pretty funny!" He turned around to face Ranboo, one hand propped up on his hip.

Ranboo pressed a hand to his heart in mock disbelief, his lips parting as an offended gasp escaped his mouth. "I can't believe you're doing this to me! You're supposed to be my friends!"

"We are, but--"

Tubbo paused in the middle of his sentence, his gaze travelling past Ranboo, to the spot on the pier behind him. "Oh, my."

Though this was first stated somewhat calmly, quickly afterwards his eyes grew wide and he let out a startled laugh, as though unsure he wasn't hallucinating. And Ranboo wouldn't put it past him-- Tubbo was known somewhat for hallucinating. Maybe he ate mushrooms too often or something. But then again, Ranboo's mom ate mushrooms sometimes, and she had never hallucinated. Or had she? Ranboo had never asked, so perhaps she had just never told him about it.

"Guys, look! And Ranboo, stop talking out loud and look behind you!" Tubbo tipped forward on his tippy toes, pointing to the side of Ranboo.

"What? And wait, I was talking out loud? Again?" Ranboo twisted around, though at this point he didn't really think he could be surprised anymore. In fact, he was so sure of it that he bet himself that if he was surprised he'd wrap himself in a tortilla and call himself a taco. That was how sure he was that he wouldn't be surprised.

In fact, rather than being surprising, the view out ahead of him was rather . . . underwhelming. Well, it was perfectly normal. The fish splashed about, frogs croaked and burped, and Toast was splashing around in the shallows, his leash tied in a knot around one of the legs of the picnic table.

He scanned the dock again, saw a whole pile of nothing again, and turned back to Tubbo, frowning (not again. He liked to think that he didn't frown much). "What did you see? What is it?"

"You don't see it?"

Ranboo shook his head and Tubbo raised an eyebrow at him, his expression simultaneously bemused and I'm-not-sure-if-Ranboo's-kidding. Ranboo only knew this expression of Tubbos' since Tubbo had told him one day while they were streaming together.

". . . I actually seem to have a special face for when you're being stupid, Ranboo," Tubbo had told him, gaze focused on the skeleton he was killing.

"Oh, really?" Ranboo had replied. "I don't believe you. Let me see it."

So Tubbo had paused the game, leaned over his desk, met Ranboo's eyes, and gave him a look that somehow reminded Ranboo vaguely of how he imagined a bear would look before it swallowed you whole. Kind of an "I can't believe you were so stupid as to enter my territory, but you're here now, so you'll just have to face the consequences."

And then Tubbo's MC player died to the skeleton, and in a fit of despair Tubbo had cuffed him over the head, and they had gone back to playing Minecraft.

Tubbo's voice suddenly pulled Ranboo back to real life, reminding him that he was standing on a pier, trying to convince his friends to go fishing with him (but for free! Ranboo didn't want to lose all his money because of Tommy's soda addiction), and there was something very interesting for him to see.

"Ranboo, you need glasses if you can't see that, because unless Toast really likes seafood, I'd say he's being fucking eaten by that fish over there," Tubbo managed to remark around even more giggles.

Tommy spun around to face the scene and dropped his phone, his mouth opening wide in surprise. Ranboo clapped his hands over his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh, but even he couldn't stop it entirely.

Well, Ranboo was a man of his word. Now all he needed to do was actually find a human-sized tortilla. That would probably be . . . difficult, to say the least.

The catfish was, indeed, trying to eat Toast, but it was going about it all the wrong way. Instead of attacking a leg, or his stomach, it was clamped tightly onto Toast's mane of fur, wiggling from side to side as Toast pranced about curiously, wondering if he had made a new friend.

Tommy immediately burst out into loud peals of laughter.

"Holy fucking shit-- Toast! Toast, get away-- get away from that--" He sprinted over to the pup, seizing Toast by the back of his collar and propping the small dog up in his lap. Toast's tongue lolled out of his mouth and he stared up at Tommy, pressing his wet nose against Tommy's cheek as the blonde worked to unravel the fish from Toast's fur.

"Careful, catfish have teeth and little stingy bits," Tubbo warned Tommy, trotting over to where Tommy was struggling. "Don't touch the whiskers," he added, just as Tommy jerked his hand away, letting out a loud curse.

Tommy gingerly touched his knuckles, where a red spot had already started to swell. "Couldn't have told me that sooner?" he asked wryly.

"Maybe you should have done a better job of getting it off Toast," replied Tubbo teasingly.

Ranboo limped over, hands clasped behind his back. He leaned over where Tommy was sitting on the ground, legs folded and face flushed red from exertion. "How's it going?" he asked, though he could very well see how it was going and pretty much just wanted to annoy the blonde.

Tommy shot him a glare that could have withered the leaves on a tree.

He had given up on gently working the catfish off of Toast's mane and was now trying to pry it off, curse words slipping through his gritted teeth each time his hands slipped off the smooth, wet catfish skin.

Deciding not to look at Tommy's angry face, Ranboo looked instead to the catfish still gnawing determinedly at Toast's fur. It had a good grip on Toast's mane, he would give it that, and it definitely looked disgruntled at having its snack disrupted. Had it jumped out of the water? How?

"You want a try?" Tommy asked, sounding almost despairing. He half-flung Toast towards Ranboo, who caught him in his arms and tumbled down to the ground, landing with a yelp and a wince of pain as his ankle decided to completely give up on life.

"Not particularly," Ranboo replied, dizzy from the trip.

"Too bad. Go ahead, try your luck." Tommy shook out his hands, still looking deeply chagrined or else in immense pain. It was hard to tell.

Ranboo stared down at Toast, who stared back up at him, a fish hanging limply from his fur. He shook his head, let out a small sigh, and got to work.

The thing he immediately noticed about Toast's fur was that it was very wet, and it was also getting his pants and his shirt very wet. The last time Toast had been this sopping wet was when he had given the pup a bath, and that had ended . . . hopefully, not in the same way that this would end. Besides, Ranboo was fairly sure that the lake didn't have any soap in it.

Apparently, though, it had a lot of catfish.

He nervously stretched his hand out and poked the catfish's skin. It lay limp.

Gaining more confidence, he tried to grab it by the tail, and that is when the catfish decided to reveal its true nature. Deciding that Toast's fur tasted terrible, that there was a much bigger and much more fitting meal right in front of it, and that it could definitely eat a person of Ranboo's size, it flung its entire body at him and slapped itself across his face.

He cried out, falling backwards, his hands flying to his nose.

"I can smell blood! I can smell it! Fuck-- shit--" He spat blood out of his mouth, frantically trying to stem the bleeding, and was about to say more about how the catfish was a demon monster disguised as a fish when something wet and slippery wedged itself into his mouth.

Shit!

That was definitely what it tasted like, too. Ranboo sat bolt upright, gagging on the tail of a catfish and trying to pull the little fucker out of his mouth, while it wiggled and flailed in panic and definitely did not help.

Neither did Tubbo or Tommy, who seemed to think the situation was extremely funny.

Ranboo clawed at his mouth, his nails snagging on the ragged, rough edges of the catfish's fins, and something sharp dug into the skin of his palm. "Help!" he gargle-yelled at his friends, but Tommy was on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks as he laughed, and Toast was just trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

All of a sudden, he felt a hand grab the bottom of his chin, pull his head so roughly upwards that he felt a little grateful his neck didn't snap right them and there, and the catfish was suddenly gone.

Ranboo gasped for breath, trying to understand what was happening. His mouth tasted like fish and water and blood all at once, and the sensation of catfish in his mouth had left him with this terrified tingly feeling that felt somewhat like transcending, but other than that, he was pretty much okay. He thought. He was having a rough time thinking, actually, and his mind kept spinning and colliding with other, confusing thoughts about someone leaning over him and calling his name, a faint blur of movement as someone's arm moved, and a splash of water.

Oh, wait. That was what was actually happening.

Thoughts were too much, all at once. Vision was a tumble of colours and movement, pixels moving and shifting in the corner of his eyes, and something warm and wet was still pouring down his face.

Blood, right? He thought so. Weird how strong catfish tails can be. What would happen if someone forced a catfish to participate in the Olympics? That might be interest--

"What the fuck--"

Ranboo was ripped from his pleasant, dreamy thoughts by someone slapping him. Or at least, he thought someone had slapped him, it hurt and his cheeks ached but there was something . . . dripping down his face, and it stuck to his hair, stinging his eyes and making him shiver.

He blinked several times, and slowly a figure came into focus: Tubbo, standing over him, a small bowl held tightly in his hands that dripped clear water onto the ground.

" . . . Tubbo?" he croaked, slowly realising that he was hurting all over. A small droplet of water landed on his nose and he lifted his hand to brush it away, and quickly realised that he was laying on the ground, sticks poking into his back and his perspective all messed up. "Was that water?"

"How else was I supposed to get you right?" Tubbo knelt down by him, looking faintly worried. "Idiot. Takes us all on a fishing trip, says it'll be fun, then a catfish tries to force-feed itself to you and you faint. We didn't expect that to happen, you know. Startled us all; I think Tommy's going though the six stages of grief over the fact that he laughed."

Ranboo sat up, his vision wobbling and slanting as he did so. Everything seemed to pulsate slightly, things sliding out of place and slapping him in the face if he tilted his head, even just a little. It was . . . disorienting. But, he figured, that was mostly how fainting worked.

But he didn't really remember passing out. At the very least, he had a memory of everything that had happened thus far. "Um . . . did I actually faint, though?"

Tubbo rolled his eyes. "No, you didn't. Just kind of keeled over and started mumbling something about the Olympics. Tommy's getting Toast into the car now, he'll come back with Phil so that we can all carry you uphill if needed. Luckily it wasn't."

Ranboo nodded, lifting his hand to his head to try and brush out some of his bangs. They were very muddy, he noticed. Probably from when he had fallen over. "Yeah. Lucky."

"Awe, c'mon. Stand on up, Boo, you can do it." Tubbo clapped Ranboo on the shoulder, the sudden impact startling his brain into regaining the power of actual thought.

"Standing is a teensy bit overrated," commented Ranboo, standing up. He was still a little dizzy, and it probably showed, but Tubbo didn't really look that concerned, so it couldn't be that bad. "Really tires you out."

Tubbo tilted his head to the side but still didn't say anything. "Right. Come on, why don't you? Let's head up the hill. No more fishing, okay?"

Ranboo pressed the tips of his fingers against his chin, feeling the dried globs of blood and the cold pond water dripping down his skin. He remembered the sharp feeling of the fish slicing into his palm, the way it had slapped him across the face, and sighed heavily.

"Sounds good."

---

Ranboo sat back in the car seat, stretching in what little leg room the car allowed him.

The air in the car was warm and somewhat stuffy, though the windows were rolled down and cool breezes spilled into the enclosed space. The car seat behind him had been made more comfortable by a pillow shoved between the back of his head and the headrest, letting him lean back a little to relax more.

Tommy, occupying his usual spot next to Phil, was currently pestering him to stop and grab dinner, though the sun was only starting to occupy the hazy evening area. Tubbo was flipping through a book, so deeply invested in the struggles of the characters that he would let out little gasps now and then. Ranboo was trying to sleep, but he couldn't, not really.

Maybe it was too early in the day for him to be tired. Or maybe he was upset. None of his attempts to sightsee had really worked, after all. Didn't that mean he was bad at this sort of thing? Showing friends around, trying to get everyone to have fun?

Tubbo glanced up from his book and frowned. He closed the book, pushing it off to the side, and bent closer to Ranboo. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Ranboo shook himself, blinking several times as he tried to remember how to speak. "Um . . . oh, uh, nothing. Just thinking, I guess."

Tubbo obviously didn't believe him, and let out a disbelieving snort, poking Ranboo's cheek with one finger. "I know you better than that, boss man. You can talk to me, you know."

Sighing, Ranboo leaned away from Tubbo and his unpredictable poking. "I know, but it's fine. . . . really," he added at Tubbo's sceptical stare. "I promise."

"Dude, please. You've got the expression and everything." Tubbo gestured at his own face, then shook his head, gently laying one hand on Ranboo's shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Is it because you think we didn't have fun?"

Ranboo almost laughed. Tubbo really did know him well.

He glanced at the floor, not wanting to speak. ". . . maybe. Kind of. Look, I wasn't able to do anything fun for you guys, and I really wanted us to be able to have actual fun together instead of almost dying, but that doesn't . . . I don't know if I can do that. Maybe I'm a bad luck charm or something, but that doesn't change the fact that everything bad seems to happen whenever I try to do something positive."

Tubbo hummed thoughtfully. Ranboo felt the brunette lay his head against Ranboo's shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of Tubbo's back against his side almost calming.

"I don't think I had a bad time," Tubbo said finally. "In fact, those were really fun adventures."

Ranboo looked up, surprised. What? "But . . . "

"Oh, shut your mouth, Ranboo," Tubbo burst out. "Stop with all this self-pity. I had an awesome time, and so did everyone else. Mammoth Cave was beautiful, and don't you remember what happened after we left the cave?"

"Yes." Ranboo did remember. They had discovered a small travelling carnival on the interstate, just a few miles down from Mammoth National Park, and decided to stop for a few hours. They had gone on rides. Laughed and had a good time; sure, Ranboo had eaten one too many caramel apples and nearly thrown up, but he had still had loads of fun.

"But I didn't plan that. It was completely random, and the point is, I can't plan anything without it turning to . . . to shit."

Tubbo grumbled something that Ranboo couldn't hear. "Oh, fuck you. You can't actually think that-- you're so fun to hang out with, Ranboo. I'm not even kidding," he exclaimed when Ranboo scoffed. "Do you seriously think we'd be on this crazy adventure together if we didn't like spending time with you? You're a great guy, and you need to get that through your thick skull or I won't talk to you for the rest of the car ride."

"Listen to the man, Boo," Tommy chimed in from the front seat. Curled up on his lap, Toast let out a sleepy bark. "You're funny as hell, all right? And really nice, too. A bit dumb at times, I mean, seriously-- when you touched that skeleton? Eugh. And trying to pin me to the ground so I couldn't leave that salt force field thing with Lena was . . . a bit overdramatic. And you don't really have a good fashion sense, you're too tall and sometimes really annoying to deal with, to be honest."

"Tommy," Tubbo hissed through his teeth.

"I'm getting to it, bee boy," Tommy fired back, sticking out his tongue at the brunette. "Anyway, point is, you're pretty cool most of the time. I'd know-- I was pretty mad at you for a while, but even then, I still knew you were one of my best friends."

"I'll always be right by your side," Phil said, a gentle smile in his voice. "You dragged me along by force on this adventure, but I'd be more than willing to go on a trip with you anytime."

Ranboo blinked back tears. Real ones, this time. "You're . . . God, guys, this is too sweet," he muttered, swiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me cry."

"Uh-oh, looks like that already happened," teased Tubbo, grinning ear to ear. "Aww, Ranboo. You're like a puppy. Or a little baby cat."

"I'm not crying," Ranboo lied, scrubbing at one of his eyes. "I just . . . I got something stuck in my eye."

"Of course you did," Tommy laughed. He twisted around to glance at Ranboo, picking up Toast and flipping the pup's paw up and down so it looked like Toast was waving at him. "You don't have to be so shy."

"Fine. Fine, I'm crying," Ranboo mumbled, curling his legs to his chest and burying his head in his knees, muffling the sound of his voice. He snapped his head up at the sound of Phil laughing. "But it's only because of what you said!"

"Oh, Ranboo. You need to get some rest." Phil shook his head, letting out a long breath. "C'mon, let's go find a hotel."

Sleep sounded . . . really good, actually.

Ranboo closed his eyes, feeling the rumble of the engine, each rock that made the car jump underneath him. Sounds faded off into smeared blurs of chit-chat and faint laughter that streamed past Ranboo's ears. Lights popped up past his eyelids, bright red traffic lights, flashing yellow for construction.

He re-adjusted his sunglasses, letting darkness envelop him.

His breathing faded off evenly, Tubbo's body pressed against his, the steady sound of their breathing twining together until it curled together perfectly, one of them breathing in while the other breathed out, two puzzle pieces fit against each other.

Slowly, almost nervously, Ranboo let himself drift off to sleep.

It was probably time for him to rest up, anyway.