“Oh to be queer and Dream SMP members…” Wilbur begins, trailing off at the end since fae may be just a bit drunk.
"And married! WHOOO!" Whoops Tubbo, grabbing Ranboo's hands which now have three rings- a white and black ring on ends left and right middle fingers, and a thin, gold band on his right ring finger.
"And married! This is great!" Ranboo agrees- slightly less loudly but just as enthusiastically as Tommy comes in with a couple of more mixers for the vodka Wilbur brought over after the wedding party. It was loud, and full of Tubbo and Ranboo and Tommy's family and Dream SMP members alike, international members still in the country after Tommy's twenty-third birthday madness, the first full SMP reunion in a year.
"Yeah, good luck with your married shit, Ranboo- I'm about to go get so many girls--"
"You're literally aro, Big T"
"Over to come and play video games! Jeez Tubbo, get your mind out of the gutter!"
"Course, course, course- partners for life, yeah?" Tubbo asks, softening a bit and Tommy, having dealt with Drunkbo before smiles too, taking all of their left hands with the white rings and the Michael clip-on bead, still in okay condition.
"Partners for life." Tommy and Ranboo answer, as always.
"Awwww, you lot are being sappy again!" Wilbur croons, curling up to Tommy's unoccupied side once they sit down. Phil and Kristin, the only ones still on the couch, are watching fondly, though only Ranboo seems to know this.
"Fuck off, Wil." Groans Tommy into Wilbur's shoulder, hiding his face from the room. Wilbur starts fucking beaming, grin nearly splitting his face in half. He ruffles Tommy's hair and scoops him up a little closer, detaching Tubbo slightly who in his still-drunk state, clings harder.
"Aww sunshine, don't hide from us" Fae croons again, softer this time; "Us Brighton Queers gotta stick together, right?"
"Right!" The newlyweds confirm. Tommy mumbles out a singular "right." Into their sibling's shoulder, putting the vodka away after seeing faers and Tubbo's faces, motioning at Phil to help.
"Phillll" Tommy gets out, tired as shit. "Help me clean up the drunk mess, you old-ass man."
Well Phil is now thirty nine, so he is in fact quite old, so he gets up and helps Tommy clear the dishes without a return quip. Ranboo tries to help, but his own tipsiness has rendered him clumsy and Tubbo's too clingy with his husband for this shit. Kristin picks up Wilbur by his armpits and helps him stagger off to the guest room, as she and Phil basically insisted to stay on the (apparently very soft) couches while the newly married couple and their partner went to bed in their own super-cool bunk beds.
In fact, they're there right now and nearly asleep- the sound of Tommy's well-worn copy of The Conch Bearer being put down indicates that sleep is just round the corner when-
"Guys. It-it's still the same, right? Nothing's changed, right?" Tommy asks, and they're clearly trying to act nonchalant but it isn't working, feeling more like a quiet desperation.
"Yeah, course, Tommy. Why wouldn't it be?"
“Just… was thinking. You know how my brain gets sometimes.” and they do. They still get woken up sometimes, at the most inane hours by Tommy’s mind screaming thoughts he doesn’t want and picking up the pieces. It’s better now, been better for a long time with the therapy but it’s not gone.
This thought, at least can be nipped in the bud, or at least make it harder to grow.
"Mmhm. The marriage was solely for the sake of tax evasion and a green card. Us- the three of us, Tommy, hasn't changed at all." Tommy doesn’t say anything for a bit, breathing a bit slower than usual, deeper.
"Love you." It sounds nearly like just another breath, but it's been heard so much that telling the difference is second-nature. Familiar. Ranboo's good at that familiarity.
"Love you both too." There's the telltale sign of wood creaking as Tommy descends the ladder into the bottom bunk, where Tubbo and Ranboo lie. He curls up with them, fitting in all the remaining spots perfectly. As Ranboo does. As Tubbo does. As they always have.
And the Micheal charms in white aromantic rings means that it always will.
Because sometimes family is a musician sibling, a bird dad and a goddess of death, an American pig-man and the best QPR ever. And that's alright! Because what else is there to want, anyways?