Actions

Work Header

Golden Child

Chapter Text

Micheal sat alone at the far end of the huge oak dining table. It was huge, big enough to fit at least 50 different guests, and stretched from one end of the long main room to the other, every seat was empty, they always were- except of course for his- he sat on top of three old books, pages worn and writings a jumbled collection of boring words that no one had bothered to actually try reading in at least a few decades- they’d been hand me downs to fill the hotel library up. They were from some faceless man called Philza- who’d Micheal had only heard of in whispers and side conversations he was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to be hearing. Philza seemed to have an infinite collection of books with no listed author. Even Micheal, a bookworm by nature couldn’t muster himself to read more than a couple chapters, the books were only truly useful for his occasional bouts of insomnia that he ( unfortunately ) shared with Tubbo, they tended to heal that rather quickly. Micheal sat at the front of the table, every other side seat stretching in front of the small piglin boy. He’d only ever sat there because Ranboo had always said he was worthy of a ‘king's seat’ Micheal had only ever met one king- and it had been a short interaction, nothing had seemed especially special to him about the king, nothing besides his crown and cape that is. Oh- and he’d slept in king sized beds before, that's as far as his knowledge of kings spread, so he didn’t really understand what Ranboo’d meant, but it's where he sat nothingless. His plate, which sat in front of him and despite the books was a bit of a stretch to reach- had a cold salad- the ‘Tubbo special’ as his father had called it. He again- wasn't quite sure what made the tubbo special so special, but it contained a few varieties of leafy greens- with tomatoes, carrot chunks ( sloppily cut to make an array of trapezoids and triangles ) white rose petals, sesame seeds, and paper thin slices of beetroot all coated in a balsamic-esk sauce. Tubbo was rather proud of the creation, and Michael would eat it everyday of his life if Tubbo was ever around to make it- he rarely was though. Today was special as he’d made it the night before- he’d left it out in the snowy night in a glass container by the door for Michael to find that morning. The snow had kept it and the sauce cold, a wonderful treat to wake up to.
Tubbo was almost always gone for good amounts of the day. He’d wake Micheal in the morning by setting him down on the mainroom couch and would leave him a list of chores varying in length, give him a hug and be off. Micheal usually sat in the mainroom and went through the bookshelf they had, reading and reading till the sun was starting to rise then get set on his chores- general motel upkeep- which would be finished by midday. Tubbo was always vague about where he was off all day- all Micheal knew is that he’d come home covered in soot and smoke, smelling of smoke, and have just enough energy left in him to talk to Micheal for a good few minutes, read him a bedtime story and be off to bed. When Micheal asked- Tubbo said he worked on machinery, air conditioners and washing machines at some mysterious factory for other mundane machines, which would be believable if not for the aggressive boom that occasionally shook the whole hotel like an earthquake that came from the distance, just next to where the small dot on the horizon where Tubbos ‘factory’ sat, usually followed by a small mushroom cloud of smoke. But on the days that Tubbo wasn’t busy with his ‘machinery’ he’d bring micheal along his day-to-day motions. Trading goods with fellow people- of which Michael had passing knowledge of, visiting Ranboo who seemed to be in a different place every time he visited, and just walking around the streets of the city. Tubbo never gave the places they went a name, always said that ‘the names had changed so many times it wasn't worth keeping track’ thought he’d occasionally hear him call the main place- the one with glass coating the earth ( which Micheal loved to run and slide around endlessly on when it was snowing ) ‘Lmanburg’ but he always either caught himself halfway through saying it- or would follow it with a few seconds of silence, then jump to a new topic completely. Of all the places besides home Micheal most liked Tom’s house. Micheal had only been to Tommy’s house when he was very little- so little in fact that it was nothing but a hazy memory, but what he did remember was quite nice. Tubbo had dressed him in his best clothes that morning.
“Be on your best behavior Michael, we’re seeing an old friend today- eh?”
Ranboo had been there too- it had been nearly half a year since all the three of them had been together in one place, and probably well over a year since they’d all really gone out together, it made the nice memories all the more wishful, and sour.
They’d all been dressed nice, and had headed off early, soon enough they were at the door of a rather small, hillside with doors built into it.
“Go ahead Michey, you knock on the door”
Micheal waddled up and gave it a soft knock- and it had swung open almost immediately- before he could even finish his final knock, a tall, blonde boy of Tubbos age, adorning vibrant blue jeans and a red-white shirt greeted them, he laughed a warm, warm laugh and hugged tubbo- the two didn't let go for a good few seconds. Finally the blonde boy stepped back to speak.
“OhTubbo, how’ve you been how've you been?”
“Good mate, I’ve been good, you’ve met Ranboo-“
Ranboo and the blonde boy shook hands-
“I have I have.”
Ranboo only smiled in response.
Tubbo backed up a slight bit and picked Micheal up-
“I wanted you to be the first person besides me and Ranboo to meet michael-”
Micheal was now at eyes length with the boy- his eyes were big, very big, like they had a thousand memories and thoughts fluttering through them at any given moment, he gave a hearty laugh, just as warm as the one he’d given before- he picked up Micheal and hugged him- it was odd, how the boy almost omitted a cozy warmth that made you want to smile at nothing more than his existence. The sunny boy held michael in his arms like one would hold a baby- cradling him lightly
“He’s very soft.” The boy asseded.
“He is- he is.” Tubbo giggled, he looked Michael in the eyes,
“Micheal this is Tommy, Toh-meee. Tommy, this is Micheal.”
Micheal wasn’t very good at speaking human speak at the time, but he was able to babble a bit-
‘Tawmey!’
He gave Tommy a tight hug, hoping it gave the Sunny boy even a fraction of the warmth his hugs gave him, Tommy just smiled- and Micheal could swear he saw his eyes water a bit. Tommy quickly rubbed his eyes against the backside of his wrist and continued-
“Ohh he's a sweet one- most pigmen- or, pigkids aren't so sweet you know”
He ruffled Micheals head hair, his voice still soft and not as booming as it had been- Tubbo laughed, and the two headed in, Tommy and Tubbo sat down in front of a fireplace- drinking tea and snacking on apples and crackers, they talked for a long time, and the whole time Tommy cradled Micheal gently- the carefulness in which he handled him in stark contrast with his bouts of yelling and lighter. Micheal ate carrots- cozily listening to their conversation, Ranboo didn't speak much, he just sat on the couch- a comfortable- look of peace in his eyes, he occasionally laughed a jokes- and gave Micheal glances filled with what he could only asses were full of endearment. It went on like this- till probably nightfall, where Tommy- almost reluctantly placed a nearly asleep micheal into Tubbos arms, michael didn't remember much past that, the soft fire lighting the room, the loving chatter of the three around him, the soft red couch and rug- the slowly setting sun peaking through the windows and doorway, it coaxed him to sleep- he woke on the couch. A blanket over him and the three eating a meal at a table in beside the couch, michael stretched up- and the group stopped their talking to give a collection of awws and coo’s, Tubbo got up from his wood chair and picked Micheal up, the blanket falling off of him, and took him to the table where he sat him down, a aroma of wonderful smells woke the Piglin boy back up- he’d forgotten where he was, as kids- and people often do when they first wake up, but when he glanced to the sunshine filled boy filling his plate with chicken- mashed potatoes and of course- Tubbos special salad- he remembered where he was, he remembered the joy of it all.
“Tawmey!”
Micheal bounced excitedly, realizing a bit too late that he was falling off his chair- a puff of purple later and he was caught in a frantic Ranboos arms. After the momentary shock, the group laughed- and once he glanced up- Tommy was once again wiping his eyes dry, this time not hiding it quite as well. They ate a delicious meal- the best Micheal had ever had, the next thing he remembered was saying goodbyes, being held by Ranboo in the chilly night sky- and was handed to Tubbo so Ranboo could give tommy a farewell hug- and they'd left, a aura of warmth and cheer bouncing off of all of them, he was brought home, tucked into pajamas and went to sleep- tired and full in his parents bed, in between Ranboo and Tubbo, falling asleep to their breathing, in a blanket covered king-sized bed. That was a good memory- no, that was the very best.