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It’s a recurring dream- Ranboo’s hands aren’t his own. He’s moving without his permission. He’s just an inhabitant in his own body, watching, unable to do anything. Unable to stop himself. He watches himself open his own front door, watches himself walk through their den, into the living room, kneel to where Micheal is sitting on the carpet playing with a toy. He watches himself pull an axe out of his inventory, and by now he’s sobbing, tears tumbling down his cheeks, burning and stinging and sizzling, and he’s still unable to pull his hands away. He cocks it up and prepares to swing-
And then he wakes with a sharp breath, shooting to sitting up, chest heaving. He curls his arms around his middle, just to prove that he can- that he’s the one in control.
Tubbo is next to him, sound asleep, with little snores escaping his lips every so often- audible reminders that he is alive and breathing that usually put Ranboo at ease when he wakes up from a nightmare, but all of a sudden the sound makes him feel sick. He's way too close, it'd be entirely too easy for him to lean over and snuff that precious sound out. If his hands ever went out of his control, turning against his Tubbo, Ranboo would never forgive himself. Even if Tubbo is more than capable of fighting back, Ranboo couldn't bear to sit with himself and the knowledge that he'd ever raise a hand against his loved one.
He pulls himself out of bed and slowly backs out of the room and down the hall.
Ranboo can't stay in there- couldn't possibly sleep beside an unprotected Tubbo when he could be out of control at any second. He can't be trusted, not with this home, not with this love, not with this closeness. He's a monster, he's horrifying, he's-
"Ranboo?"
Ranboo startles, spinning, his wide eyes flickering around in the dark until they settle on the shifting lump on the couch. Curls peeking out from under a blanket, a hand pulling at the arm of the couch, eyes peering at him through the shadows. A familiar voice, groggy and rough, never gentle except where no-one can see.
Tommy.
"What the hell are you doing up?" Tommy complains, dropping his head back down into the cushion. "You aren't the type to wake up at five am to start the day are you? Cause, you would be, wouldn't you? Oh fuck you."
And usually, Tommy's tired, mindless, antagonistic grumbling would make Ranboo smile, knowing the boy doesn't mean any of it, but right now he can't- he can't-
"Sorry," he whispers, beginning to back away again, "sorry-"
Tommy jolts, head snapping up, eyes training on Ranboo as if surprised. "Wait," he says quickly, "wait, Ranboo, wait. Sorry, I'm- I'm being a dick, stop."
Ranboo slows, but still backs away, one step, then another, and it's just one more until he's back in the hallway, but Tommy sticks his arm out and goes, "Please."
That stops Ranboo in his tracks.
Tommy, who hardly ever drops his facade of tough and mean, and especially not in front of Ranboo of all people, reaching out, pleading, all for Ranboo to stay. All because he’s worried. There’s no way Ranboo can turn away from that.
He turns and shuffles closer and Tommy relaxes, scooting over and patting the couch space next to him. Ranboo hesitates, but Tommy firmly pats again, and so he sits.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Tommy starts, then stops. He looks uncomfortable. “Are you- good? Is everything alright? I’m not- I mean, you can tell me, I wouldn’t make fun of you.”
“You wouldn’t?” Ranboo asks, half skeptical and half vulnerable, wishing he could believe Tommy.
“During the day, maybe.” Tommy says. “But- Ranboo, you look awful. I- I mean, Tubbo would hate it if I just let you look like that all by yourself. So what’s wrong? If you felt, I don’t know, okay with telling me.”
Ranboo pauses, then folds his hands together in his lap, tight. “I- I sometimes have this dream. And in it, my hands are not my own. They- I end up doing things. Horrible things, to the people that I love. The ones that I swore to protect. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop them. I can’t stop me. ”
There’s a quiet, in which Tommy’s brows furrow and Ranboo twists his fingers together, nervous.
“Here Ranboo,” Tommy decides finally, holding out his own hands, palms up. Ranboo frowns, confused. “Put your hands here.”
Slowly, Ranboo reaches out, laying his claws down on top of Tommy’s, palms up as well. Tommy hums, and then slides his hands over, letting his thumbs stroke Ranboo’s palms. His touch is gentle, caring, easy. Everything Ranboo doesn’t deserve.
“Can you close your hands into fists?” Tommy asks.
“What?”
“Can you just-” He prompts and Ranboo decides to just indulge him. He curls his fingers into tight fists. Tommy hums like he’s observing something. “Okay, okay. Hm. Okay, now open them up again?”
Ranboo does, and Tommy goes back to going that thumb-rub, all soothing, tracing his paw-pads one after the other.
“Hm, yes…” Tommy mutters, “okay, I see.”
“What do- what do you see?” Ranboo asks, leaning in to look at his own hands, voice tight with nerves. “What’s there?”
Tommy looks up, locking eyes with Ranboo, bright blue glinting. “Nothing. There is absolutely nothing...except for you. It’s all you, Ranboo.”
Ranboo’s breath catches in his throat. Tommy moves his own hands, putting them neatly in Ranboo’s, holding them together. Oh.
“Oh…” Ranboo says, voice wobbling, “O-oh. Oh.”
“Yeah,” Tommy says, and his voice is so soft and unlike him, that Ranboo ducks his head, and tears well in his eyes, falling down, sizzling his cheeks. Tommy quickly lets go of his hands and reaches up, cupping Ranboo’s face and keeping the tears from hitting his cheeks. “Wait, wait, Ranboo, don’t- don’t cry, if Tubbo wakes up and finds you crying, he’ll blame me, I swear, please just- don’t cry.”
Ranboo whimpers, leaning closer so he can press his forehead to Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy immediately adjusts, wrapping his around Ranboo and pulling him close, not scared in the slightest to have him by. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Tommy whispers, and Ranboo sniffles, letting Tommy hold him up.
Tommy begins to rock them, humming quietly, "Your hands are your own, Ranboo. No one else's. I promise."
"H-how do you know?" Ranboo sniffles, and a hand rubs up and down his back slowly. "How can you be sure?"
"I'm a genius, Ran, duh. And I know all about hands, as I've got two of them."
"Yeah?"
"Hell yeah." And then Ranboo feels Tommy's hand gently pushing him away so he can look Ranboo in his face. At the bridge of his nose, not his eyes, because Tommy has always been considerate of that. "And I know you, know how you use your hands- peacefully. The last thing you would ever do is hurt Tubbo or Michael."
Ranboo pauses. "Or you."
Tommy blinks, and then his face softens. "Or me. Yeah. You wouldn't hurt any of us, and I know this because I know you. And- and you won't hear me say this ever again, so listen close- I trust you with my life. I don't trust easy either, so you've proven that you'll let fuck-all happen to me. That you care and I can relax around you. So believe me when I say this, you wouldn't hurt us. Any of us."
Then Tommy takes Ranboo's hands, and squeezes them once, holding them without any fear, and that alone dissolves him back into stinging tears.
...
He falls asleep out there, curled into Tommy's side, a blanket haphazardly pulled up over the both of them.
It took a bit more convincing, but Tommy was patient and promised that it would he okay for Ranboo to sleep next to an unconscious Tommy- that no harm would come to either of them. And in the morning, when the sun shines through their front windows, Ranboo wakes up and Tommy is still there, his chest rising and falling steadily, head tilted at an angle that couldn't possibly be good for his neck.
Ranboo hesitates, then reaches over, carefully curling his hands around Tommy's jaw and neck and re-positioning him so he won't wake up in pain. Tommy stirs, and it's the perfect time for him to scream and jerk away, all bleary and confused with Ranboo holding his face, but he doesn't. All he does is sleepily mumble through squished cheeks- "'boo, fu'k off, m' sleepin."
"Sorry Tommy," Ranboo giggles, "go back to sleep."
"Nuh, don't tell me what to do." He slurs. But he sits up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He blinks at Ranboo when he's settles, still waking. "You alright?"
"Better," Ranboo admits. "Better."
"Good," Tommy scrubs a hand down his face. "Okay, m' going back to bed. Wake me if we're getting attacked, yeah?"
"Okay Tommy," Ranboo says fondly. "And thank you. You- it means a lot to me. That you did that."
"Shut the fuck up," Tommy goes, and then scoots over, face planting into Ranboo's leg. Ranboo smiles, then cards a hand through the messy curls. Tubbo comes stumbling out, stretching. When he sees Ranboo and Tommy, he pauses, a smile flitting across his face. But then he zeroes in on the fresh tear-scars on Ranboo's cheeks and the smile vanishes.
"Boo?" He comes closer, kneeling before them. "Hey, what's- are you okay? Did Tommy do this?"
Ranboo snorts and Tommy makes a vaguely grumbly sound. To placate him, Tubbo pokes at his cheek. "No, Tommy didn't, I- bad night."
Tubbo's frown deepens. "Did you have that dream again?"
Ranboo dips his head in a nod, but picks it up again when Tubbo reaches over and gently grabs his hands. Tommy whines when Ranboo stops petting his hair, but quiets when he realizes what's happening.
Tubbo carefully puts Ranboo's hands together and then pulls them close, pressing a kiss to his claws. Ranboo flushes, his eyes stinging.
"I love you, Boo," Tubbo says softly. "You know that. Next time wake me up and I'll tell your fears how stupid they are to their face."
"Oh."
Tubbo smiles, then leans forward to butt their foreheads together. In between them, Tommy groans.
"Don't fucking kiss around me, I'll kill you both," he mumbles. Tubbo pulls away to flick Tommy's forehead. Tommy whines and burrows closer to Ranboo.
"All you bastards trying to ruin my sleep, I hate you."
"Me too?" Ranboo asks.
Tommy pauses. "A little less than I hate Tubbo."
Tubbo rolls his eyes and Ranboo does a quiet cheer. Tommy, with his eyes closed, reaches over to grab Ranboo's hand and then grabs Tubbo's.
"We all good?" He asks. "Because I'm- I'm fucking tired."
"Okay Tommy," Tubbo stands and then sits down on Ranboo's other side, reaching over a hand to tug at one of Tommy's curls. "Okay, we'll sleep. But later you're cooking dickhead."
Tommy grumbles again, swatting Tubbo away. "Ranboo, don't go anywhere 'kay? Watch and don't let n'thing happen. I trust you."
Warmth spreads throughout Ranboo's chest, joy at being given such a trust, at being easily handed something so delicate, at being considered the protector instead of the thing needing protecting from. Tubbo leans over, laying his cheek against Ranboo's shoulder. and Tommy drops off into sleep, and Ranboo, surrounded by his family, his little beating hearts, closes his eyes and smiles.