Work Text:
Tubbo wakes up to loud, obnoxious banging on his door. He bolts up and scrambles to pull the curtains open. The sun is out, not high enough to be noon, but enough to tell Tubbo he’s overslept.
The knocking stops abruptly, followed by murmurs outside his door. Footsteps start, then grow fainter and fainter until Tubbo and the remaining person outside the door breathe twin sighs of relief.
“Can I come in, Tubbo?”
Tubbo looks down at his clothes and pats his hair. Are the clothes singed? No. Is his hair on fire? Also no.
Deeming himself presentable, he says, as offhandedly as he can, “Sure.”
Quackity slides the door open with a creak. “Hey kid, sorry about that. I tried to hold him off as long as possible, but well, you know how he is.”
The “he” Quackity is referring to is President J. Schlatt of Manburg. Usually, the Cabinet is up before dawn to get out of the White House before Schlatt wakes up, but Tubbo was up late the night before preparing for the festival.
Right. The festival.
God, being a double agent is difficult . Tubbo has to deal with Schlatt and his minions, Wilbur and his growing insanity, and Tommy’s distress. Sometimes, he’s not sure what’s worse. Schlatt always seems to be suspicious of Tubbo, leaving him petrified every night, scared that he’ll wake up to a sword at his throat. Wilbur wants to blow up the whole damn country and everyone in it today . Tommy constantly worries about Schlatt’s suspicion, Wilbur’s obsessions, and Tubbo’s increasingly uncontrollable tendency to catch on fire.
(“I can’t control it when I get too emotional, Tommy. I can control everything if I’m not under lots of stress or sad or angry or worried or‒”
“Basically everything we’re dealing with right now,” Tommy finishes grimly.)
“Anyway, Schlatt wants you up and ready just in case, but you’re free to do what you want until the festival starts. Figured you deserved the break after you’ve worked so hard to prepare,” Quackity continues. He grins sheepishly, probably trying to come across as friendly. Tubbo thinks he looks like he’s either constipated or hiding something, but before he can ask about it, Quackity closes the door and walks down the stairs.
Tubbo exhales, stands up, and immediately almost falls on his face. Frowning, he prods his core a bit, trying to jumpstart the rods in him.
When poking doesn’t work, Tubbo opens the curtains and basks in the sun for a few minutes. He tries to stand up again and takes a few wobbly steps, a headache he didn’t know he had lessening slightly. Not great, but it’ll have to do until Tubbo and Tommy can get to the Nether unnoticed.
(“Tubbo, your stomach is glowing!” exclaims Tommy.
Tubbo stares at him, deadpan. “Gee, I wonder why my stomach might be fucking glowing. What did I just tell you five minutes ago?” To make his point clearer, Tubbo summons a fireball in his hands and pretends to chuck it at Tommy, then moves some of the light into his arms and waves them around.
“Right,” Tommy says. “Blaze hybrid an’ shit.”)
A quick breakfast and jaunt later, Tubbo is standing at the underground entrance to Pogtopia.
Tommy spots him first and tackles him in a hug. “TUBBO! My man, my brother‒”
“Oh, Tubbo! You’re just in time,” Wilbur greets. “We’re going over the plan again.”
He jabs a finger on a hastily drawn map of the festival area. “Tommy and I will be on that building, you’ll be with Schlatt on the podium, and Technoblade’s invited, so he’ll be in the audience.
“Tubbo will give his speech and say, ‘Let the festival begin,’ then get the hell out of there while I run and press the button that makes everything go BOOM!” Wilbur slams the table enthusiastically, startling Tommy and Tubbo. “We’ll regroup back here, if possible, but if you can’t make it back, just run for it. Any questions? Any more important information?”
Tommy glances sideways at Tubbo questioningly. Tubbo gives him a (hopefully) subtle look that screams, “NO, are you insane? No!”
They let the moment pass.
(“You know, I think it would be a lot easier for you if you just told everyone,” says Tommy.
“No,” Tubbo answers, the same way he does whenever Tommy brings it up.
Tommy, supportive since the very beginning, simply says, “Okay,” and moves on.)
“Well,” says Tubbo, glancing at the clock on the side of the ravine. “I have to go now. See you on the other side, gentlemen.”
_________________
Tubbo starts his speech. All is well.
Tubbo finishes his speech. All is well.
Tubbo says the code phrase. In the corner of his eye, he can see Wilbur jump up and stumble on the roof of a nearby building, trying to get down. Tommy gives him a cheeky smile and thumbs up. All is well.
Wait, why are they putting yellow concrete around him? “Schlatt?” he asks. “Schlatt, I’m trapped.”
All is not well.
“Take him out, Technoblade,” Schlatt orders. Quackity watches and laughs, hiding behind his shades.
All is definitely not well.
Technoblade flies with his trident up to the podium and starts to stall for time. Perhaps he will save Tubbo. Perhaps he won’t kill him. Perhaps‒
Wilbur stops in his tracks, slowly walking back over to Tommy as Techno caves in, loads a crossbow with fireworks, and says, “I’m sorry, Tubbo.”
In a burst of adrenaline, Tubbo bundles as much heat as he can into his core, twisting and weaving the rest of his remaining energy into a bundle, but oh, he’s made a mistake and now there’s not enough left to maintain it.
His control on the gathered energy slips and the heat seeps out and down down down into the ground beneath his feet and away from the core.
Oh, it’s cold, oh so cold. Distantly, Tubbo can hear Tommy screaming his name and he wants to reassure his best friend, say it’ll be okay, but he’s so, so tired. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to take a short nap, just…until…
(Tommy scoops Tubbo up, jumps off the last few steps, and hits the ground running. “Stay with me, Tubbo,” he pleads. “We’re almost there, just hold on a bit longer.”
“Ok,” Tubbo replies, then passes out in his arms.
This is not good. This is very, very not good. Tommy didn’t know how it happened, but Tubbo is no longer warm to touch, and Tubbo is always warm to touch, like a stove, or the sun, or‒
There. A lava pool. Tommy sprints towards the light and dumps Tubbo in.
A few minutes later, Tubbo snorts lava out of his nose and grumbles, “Rude. I was completely fine.”
“Like hell you were. Your core went out, idiot.”
“Whoops.”)
“Oh fuck, he’s dead already,” Schlatt grouses.
Techno lowers his crossbow and puts a hand under Tubbo’s nose. “Nope. Still breathin’.”
Not for long, Tommy thinks. He needs to get Tubbo out of there and to a heat source, fast. Tommy tries to sneak off the building, but Wilbur catches his arm harshly.
Techno removes the firework and folds the weapon up, moving to trident off the stage.
“Hold on, where do you think you’re going?” asks Schlatt. Techno points towards the audience. “Nah, we’re not done yet. Kill him.”
Tommy’s heart sinks as Techno reloads his crossbow with fireworks and points it at Tubbo’s limp, cold form.
Wait. Wait a moment.
Tubbo needs a heat source, and fast. Usually, he just uses the sun, fire, or lava, the most reliable and easily attainable generators. However, heat can come from many places, including TNT, as they figured out in an accident with a desert temple.
TNT explodes. So do fireworks.
Either Tommy is a genius, or his friend is about to die.
Technoblade is being subjected to mild amounts of peer pressure. He doesn’t want to kill the kid (he’s an anarchist, not evil), but he doesn’t want to die either. Technoblade never dies, and all that.
“Well?” asks Schlatt. “I don’t have all day.”
Techno pulls the trigger once, then twice. Whoops, the crossbow fires three at a time. Schlatt and Quackity explode in a burst of color and light. He coughs and waves away smoke until he can see the box, which is… not empty.
It’s also glowing. Why the fuck is the box glowing?
A gasp ripples through the crowd below. Wilbur locks eyes with Techno, face a careful mask of composure.
Tommy grins. Looking past the anarchist, he yells, “Nice of you to finally join us!”
“Oh fuck off!” Tubbo shouts back. A light shimmer pulses under his skin as he relaxes his shoulders, opens his eyes, and inhales. His stomach shines so brightly that Techno has to look away and blink spots out of his eyes.
A huge pulse has Tubbo squeezing his eyes shut again. When he opens them again, they too are glowing. “Hey, this feels good! How come we never tried fireworks before, Tommy?”
“It’s dangerous, dumbass.”
Tubbo looks at himself. “I’m fine.”
Tommy sighs. “Not the point. Besides, it’s easier to light a fire than it is to make a firework that actually explodes, so we never really needed to.”
“Fair point. Well, I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
Tommy stands up. “You got it, Big Man.” With a salute, he jumps off the roof and pearls out of sight.
Techno and the crowd are silent throughout this exchange. When Tommy leaves, questions, shouts, and expletives fill the air, mostly aimed at the two left onstage.
“Tubbo!”
“What? How is he‒”
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck‒”
“Techno?”
“And with that,” shouts Tubbo, gleefully. “I leave!”
For the second time today, he reaches for the fountains of energy coursing through his body. Pulling the threads of heat into his core, he coils them up as tightly as possible, then lets it go. The energy ricochets out out out of Tubbo, blasts through the concrete, vaporizes the part of the stage, and knocks Technoblade into the audience below.
Tubbo steps out of the wreckage. “Later, suckers.” There’s an awkward pause while Tubbo bundles more energy, then he launches into the air and off in the direction Tommy went.
Technoblade groans from his position on the floor. “What the fuck?”
_______________________
Tommy waits in a forest a fair distance away from the town. His communicator buzzes every few seconds, so he shuts it off and stuffs it deep in his bag.
“INCOMING!” Tommy looks up just as Tubbo flies through the canopy and tackles him to the ground.
“OI, BITCH, GET OFF!”
Tubbo does, and laughs. “This is fun!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbles. “Let’s get going.”
They stand up and shove a nearby rock over, revealing a hole. “You know, I can’t help but feel the entrance to our secret bunker is a bit cliche,” says Tubbo.
“It’s the entrance to the entrance to the entrance of our secret bunker, not the entrance to our secret bunker.”
“Right.”
The hole drops all the way to a water pool at bedrock. The entrance to the entrance of their secret bunker is a Nether portal. Tubbo pushes Tommy through the portal, then pulls him back before he faceplants into lava.
“Here we are,” Tommy proclaims. “The entrance of our secret bunker!”
They look out across the lava lake for a moment.
“Alright,” says Tommy, digging through his bag. “Invis for both of us, fire res for me… you want any, Tubbo?”
“Nah, I’m fine. Makes my skin feel weird.”
“Suit yourself.”
They splash the potions at their feet, check to make sure no one’s watching, then dive headfirst into the lava.
Tubbo swims through the tunnel, Tommy close behind. They collapse on the floor, then burst out laughing. Later, the events of the day will catch up to them and they will cry and cling to each other in the secrecy of the bunker. For now, they are fueled by adrenaline, and in Tubbo’s case, pure energy.
“Did you see Techno’s face ?”
“I’m never going to forget that, ever . The smoke cleared in front of me and there were ashes on his face‒”
“Oh god, that was hilarious. And also absolutely terrifying. But mostly hilarious.”
Tubbo props a hand under his chin. “How long do we have before people start wondering where we went?”
“Five minutes.”
“Fair.”
Silence.
Tommy makes a face. “We should probably go back out.”
“Mmm, probably,” Tubbo agrees.
(They stay in the bunker for the next week.)