Work Text:
Tubbo liked mornings in Detroit.
He liked Michigan weather, even when others wrinkled their noses, shut their blinds and pulled hoods up over their heads.
The cool, chilled air of march-april-may licked across his fingers from where he stretched them out beyond the peeling paint of his window sill; the rhythmic, gentle dripping of rain pattering against the roof and concrete sidewalk far below filling his ears, drowning his nose in the scent of moss and fresh water and mud.
It was overcast, and dark; sky clouded over with rolling cotten depths of deep grey and swirling charcoal. The sunbeams of midday were hidden from view, trapped far above and sheltered away behind the opaque wall of likely soon-to-be thunder clouds and rain soaked skies.
Tubbo didn’t mind the drab, dreary, saddening weather. He didn’t hate as much as others, when the heavens cried. Rain smelled nice, and the sound was soothing.
Breeze from the open window ruffled his hair and he sighed; a small exhale, a slight relaxation of the shoulders and of the heart before he reluctantly pulled back, drawing his mist dampened finger once more within the warm, dry confines of his room.
Unfinished homework sat beckoning on his desk with the stern call of duty, and his tablet lay atop his sprawled, messy blankets; the half finished article still illuminating the darkened corner of his room with a tealish light.
Neither seemed particularly enticing, the teen decided. Instead he padded quietly across the carpeted floor and let his own familiar knowledge of the darkned house guide him down to the first floor; making his way easily without his hands ever finding the light switches, despite the really quite inconvenient lack of windows to support his trek.
The house was quiet and still, but Tubbo was used to that too. He supposed other families might have an android- a PL600 or an AX400 perhaps to clean and maintain the house or perhaps babysit (he was seventeen, he did not need to be babysat-) but his family never had. Even if funds weren’t the main issue; because Tubbo knew first hand how damn expensive the machines...creatures? were, he didn’t think they’d ever get a robotic maid.
He tried to imagine not putting his own clothes in the hamper, or his mother not sweeping the kitchen floor, or his father not washing the dishes, or his sister not straightening the winter boots by the door.
What would they do all day, if tasks like that became obsolete?
No Tubbo knew- as he sank down to kneel on the hardwood tile, tugging rubber soled rain boots onto his feet and tucking the ends of his jeans in- that the house was quiet because he was alone. His parents were at work, and his sister was at school, which meant the house was his own for the next few hours- as it usually was on weekdays.
Didn’t mean he wasn’t bored however, wanderlust creeping up slow and curious in his veins.
The door slammed behind him, and the cold air sunk immediately through the thin layer of his raincoat as he turned to slip his key into the lock, turning it with the quick, satisfying churning sensation of grinding metal and settling tumblers.
The rain splattered against the concrete of the porch and the wooden paneling of the stairs as he cluncked his way down to the pavement; mist spraying his pants and face and hands, pattering against his hair and already drenching him in a thin layer of cold liquid.
He tilted his face up to the sky to greet it and laughed a little as the droplets splattered against his cheeks and eyes, forcing him to flutter his eyelids closed against the burn of rain within them. His hair clung to his forehead and he wiped it away messily with wet fingers as his free hand slipped the key back into his pocket, and he laughed some more, unbothered by his soaked figure. No point in being upset over something unavoidable.
His walk through the neighbourhood was pleasant. It wasn’t sweet on the eyes- cookie cutter two story buildings; peeling paint and chipped siding. Brown, craggly lawn and overturned garbage bins and potholed streets that reeked a lack of money. Nothing like the crisp, clean silver and blue aesthetic of downtown Detroit, or the city buses that occasionally turned down the street; self driving and electric and so jarringly modern and perfect against the area’s crumbling, old age rubble.
Tubbo didn’t mind however. There was something charming about the neighbourhood. Something more approachable about crumbling suburbs then the sleekness of perfect buildings and modern electronic gleem. Sometimes a door with a twist handle was just so oddly satisfying, compared to a door that slipped open to greet you as you stepped near.
He glanced down at the concrete as he walked, counting each square segment he passed over. Thin, parallel lines of brown and green pushed up between the grey; tufts of grass and small circular rounds of dandelion fronds that stubbornly grew between the sidewalk’s clutches, ignorant to man’s path, uncaring. He hummed lightly under his breath, pleased; the idle, carrying melody blending seamlessly with the drumming rhythm of the rain as it thumbed against his hood, against the grass and the mud and the tinny metal of the mailbox three meters away on its sagging wooden post.
He walked straight into a chest.
“Up-” The exclamation slipped from Tubbo’s lips- soft, surprised, slightly apologetic as something flustered settled into his voice and his heart, embarrassment at getting so lost in the music of the storm to have stopped simply looking ahead at where he was going. “Sorry!” Tubbo stepped hurriedly to the side to let the stranger pass and glanced upwards, only for his further ramblings of explanation to halt in his throat.
A figure stared down at him; face passive, only a slight widening of eyes betraying a hint of surprise, of confusion. He was tall- quite tall, taller than Tubbo’s father, and the stranger’s arms hung at his side in an almost too-stiff sort of way, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be doing with them.
On the stranger's right temple, a small, circular LED without a center glowed a gentle, pulsing yellow; swirling softly, around and around.
An android.
Tubbo expected a customary apology. Most androids were pretty polite; he figured it was programmed into them. He expected words he’d heard before, crossing paths with the robots on park walks or in the corridors of his school, when he’d gone. Something slightly too stiff, but genuine enough in an endearing, cordial sort of way.
The android said nothing. Just continued to stare at him. Or...not quite at him, Tubbo realized. The android’s eyes were slightly unfocused; like his mother’s would often be, when she was lost in thought. Or the way he’d seen android’s look before when they were communicating with one another, or paying remotely. That sort of ‘internal’ look. Like he was looking at some distant, unseeing place just beyond Tubbo’s shoulder.
The android had two different colored eyes, Tubbo realized a bit belatedly, as he curiously stared up at the unfocused, unresponsive machine. The right was a yellowish-green, the left a ruddy brick- almost red brown.
The LED spun gently. Yellow. Like the sun, hidden far above, trapped behind the clouds. It was raining quite heavily, and the android was soaked. Its projected skin glinted with the sheen of water, and its navy blue standard clothes were soaked.
Tubbo’s eyes flicked to the traditional, glowing blue triangle on the android’s vest, embossed over where a human heart would be. Then to its mirror on his left breast, where ST300 stood out in bold, white Cyberlife Sans.
He was a receptionist, Tubbo realized with no small amount of puzzlement. The android was a receptionist model. Ought to be in the city- or at least in a hotel or something, but the nearest one was streets away, and was a human owned place that didn’t allow androids on the premises.
Tubbo glanced back up, and the android’s light still swirled. Yellow.
His hair was as multicolored as his eyes; half parted black and sleek, half a pale, unpigmented white that curled around his ear.
LED. Pulsed yellow. Red. Back to yellow.
The air was cold and chilled and smelled like rain, and awkwardly Tubbo found himself shuffling, leaning forward on the balls of his feet to ask a question to the strange, out of place android that he never thought he would say. Never thought it'd be necessary.
“...are you okay?”
Tubbo watched the spinning LED, watched it flicker to red, and back to yellow.
If the android had been human, Tubbo wondered if he would’ve winced. If his multicolored eyes would’ve wrinkled to betray pain or hurt, like someone would when they had a headache.
“...I don’t know,” Said the android, and his voice sounded...off. Slightly blank, slightly confused. Slightly baffled, if Tubbo had to put a human quality to the tone coloring the words. “I believe I am...malfunctioning.”
“...I see,” Tubbo murmured, nodding. He did not see, but he could recognize the hesitance in the android’s stance. The way his eyes were still unfocused. He’d been around androids his entire life, and knew well enough that usually their LEDs were blue, and only yellow when they were processing data or completing an action.
Red was rare, and meant stress. And Tubbo hadn’t seen blue even once flicker across this android’s face. Perhaps he was lost? Surely that could be the cause of this confusion and distress.
“Are you lost?” Tubbo tried, slipping his wet hands into his jean pockets and rocking back on his heels, trying for a friendly smile. “I see you’re an ST300- receptionist, right? Where do you work?”
Yellow, yellow, yellow. Red.
“I don’t know,” The android repeated. And though his voice was just as tame as the first time he spoke those words, Tubbo got the distinct sensation of something almost like panic bleeding through. “I cannot...I am missing memories.”
“...that’s a problem big man,” Tubbo admitted, leaning back and glancing left and right down the empty street- wondering if the android’s employer might miraculously appear to sweep the confused machine away and back to where it came from. But alas, it was cold and dreary weather, and he and the android stood alone in the pouring rain. “Do you have a name?”
He looked up, and stopped, because relief, so clear and emboldened, washed across the android’s face. For a second Tubbo was genuinely surprised.
The LED, nestled up against white hair, turned blue; soft blue, like a gentle pond. Like the blue illuminating from the triangle on the android’s vest.
“Ranboo,” The android supplied, and he sounded almost pleased with himself. “My name is Ranboo.”
Ranboo. This odd, multicolored, lost android in the rain was called Ranboo.
“Alright Ranboo,” Tubbo greeted, and smiled a little, trying for reassuring and inviting. “Come on. I live nearby. Let's get you out of the rain, and we’ll see if we can figure out where the hell you came from.”
The android- Ranboo- stood still for a moment, considering this. Then Tubbo watched as a tentative smile pulled at the edges of Ranboo’s mouth, and he nodded slightly.
“Alright,” He agreed. Simple, to the point. “I appreciate your assistance.”
And somehow there was the calm politeness Tubbo had expected from the get go. He sighed- slightly exasperated at the amusing irony of it all- and grinned back as he turned, waving for Ranboo to follow.
He could hear each gentle, rhythmic, splashing step the android took at his heels.
Androids weren’t built to express large vision bouts of emotion. ST300s Tubbo knew sounded more human than most; were built to have friendly voices that were as approachable as possible. But they were still programs, programs that took in data and responded logically rather than humans that responded emotionally. So Tubbo wasn’t too surprised that as he guided Ranboo into his home, the android simply looked around with an expression of rather benign curiosity.
They were both dripping all over the hall; the wood beneath their feet darkening with moisture as Tubbo fumbled with his coat, shuffling over to the nearby kitchen to drape it over the back of a chair before taking off his boots.
When he looked up, brushing wet hair from his eyes, Ranboo was staring passively at him from the doorway; arms at his side, rivlets of water running down the side of his face. It didn’t seem to phase the android in any way, but Tubbo could feel his own wet clothes itching at his skin and sympathy rose unbidden in his chest, even though he wasn’t sure if androids had the physical sensation to dislike being wet.
“Come stand in the bathroom,” He offered, pointing to the open door of the bathroom where it branched off of the hall just to the right of the kitchen. “I’ll bring you some dry clothes.”
“That is unnecessary,” Ranboo’s soft voice reassured, even as he drew near; careful, symmetrical, long strides carrying him across the floor. He ducked slightly going into the washroom. “I am completely waterproof.”
“You’re dripping everywhere,” Tubbo snorted, raising an eyebrow at the thin trail of water and mud the android’s footsteps had left behind, leaving a line from the front door all the way down the hallway. “My dad’s clothes will probably fit you.”
He glanced up, and Ranboo’s LED was glinting yellow in the shadows of the unlit bathroom. The android’s eyes narrowed slightly, something almost like discomfort glinting in his expression.
“That is...unnecessary-”
“Too late!” Tubbo waved him away and turned to jog up the carpeted stairs, taking them two at a time- leaving the dripping android to stand in the bathroom with his yellow light and confused expression. This was...going to be something to explain to his parents alright.
He made a quick pitstop in his own room to change himself, scrubbing his hair furiously with a towel- and grabbed a loose fitting long sleeved shirt, a pair of sweatpants and some socks from his dad’s drawer before heading back downstairs, finding Ranboo exactly where he’d left him.
The android eyed the bundle of cloth in Tubbo’s hands with a kind of subtle trepidation more warranted to if Tubbo had been holding vegetables he really didn’t want to eat.
“The synthetic material of my Cyberlife attire will dry quickly,” Ranboo informed him, eyes trailing down as Tubbo thrust the armful of clothing out. “I should not- these are human clothes.”
Tubbo paused, glancing at the android’s classic, navy uniform and slowly looking back down at the bundle of his father’s pajamas in his arms, before looking back up at the spinning yellow LED on Ranboo’s temple.
“Does that… does that make you uncomfortable?” Tubbo asked nervously, realizing suddenly that perhaps Ranboo didn’t want to change out of the clothes he was created with. It occurred to him that he’d never seen an android wearing anything but their Cyberlife uniform. The only time he ever heard of an android wearing human clothing was on the news, in police reports, when a deviant-
Oh.
“It would not be proper,” Ranboo replied, and his face was impassive. Neutral. Tubbo glanced up cautiously, frowning at the perfect line of the android’s lips.
“It’s okay, surely,” Tubbo suggested, cautiously. “Just...for a little. Until your clothes are dry. You won’t be in trouble.”
Ranboo’s eyes flicked down to the clothes. A lightning fast look, but Tubbo had seen it before. In his little sister- eyes darting to the candy bowl while they were still seated in the middle of dinner. In his best friend Tommy, when they were walking through the store and the blonde’s eyes lit up at a simple toy that enticed him before he hurriedly glanced away, pretending he hadn’t cared and thinking Tubbo hadn’t seen.
Longing.
“Yep, I’m putting my foot down.” Tubbo grinned, cheeky and stubborn, shattering the solumness of the mood. He shoved the clothes into Ranboo’s arms, and if he hadn’t been a metal machine, Tubbo was sure the android would’ve stumbled back in surprise. As it was, Ranboo’s lips only parted the tiniest bit, confusion washing over his face. “Change into these, alright? My Mum’ll be pissed if I have a guest walking around in wet clothes. Boots too, they’re all muddy.”
“I don’t think-”
Tubbo quickly leaned up onto his tip toes to press his finger against Ranboo’s lips, startling the android into silence. His skin felt odd against Tubbo’s finger. Not warm, like a human, not soft, like skin ought to be- it was cooler, more rubberly; so jarring, when the appearance perfectly matched what skin was outwardly supposed to look like. He pulled his hand away, and Ranboo stared down at him, patient. That same slightly baffled expression coating his features.
“Change?” Tubbo offered, hopeful. And though Ranboo looked doubtful, the android’s shoulders sagged a little bit. Something that looked almost like a sigh, an exasperated release of tension.
“I will change,” The android conceded, and the corners of his lips ticked up. His LED flickered from yellow, back to blue. “I will only be a few minutes.”
Tubbo stepped out to give him his privacy.
He cleaned as he idled. Picked up the empty cups scattered around the kitchen and slipped them into the dishwasher, thinking about the sensation of linoleum under his socks and wondering about the android- the android in his bathroom.
He’d never heard of an android losing its memory without being wiped or damaged. As far as he knew, they were only wiped if they were sent in to Cyberlife maintenance centers and if it was necessary- and there weren’t any of those nearby. And Ranboo definitely didn’t seem damaged. He wasn’t...injured? Was that the right word? There was certainly nothing outwardly wrong with him, no Thirium blue staining his clothes or skin.
Perhaps he malfunctioned, somehow. A hardware or software issue internally, that Tubbo couldn’t see. He was fairly certain that androids were supposed to be able to self diagnose that, however. Run system diagnosis checks and whatnot.
The door cracked open behind him- the bathroom door hinge creaking like it had for years, and Tubbo turned, watching as Ranboo emerged.
He looked so-
Human.
There was something almost anxious, sheepish- cautious about his gait as Ranboo shuffled into the kitchen on too stiff legs; his wet, navy clothes tightly bundled up in one hand, his muddy boots held in the other. The sleeves of his dad’s shirt were an inch too short, exposing slim wrists, but the sweatpants- too large on Tubbo’s father- fit well, and the casual, soft clothes tied with Ranboo’s messy, wet hair gave the impression of a teenager having just emerged from the bathroom after taking a shower.
The only- only indicator to a stranger in that very moment that Ranboo was anything but perhaps another teen in the household was the spinning yellow circle on the android’s temple. Tubbo found his eyes drawn to it, as though his brain had to keep glancing to remind itself that Ranboo was in fact an android- like in his bafflement, he might forget without the reminder.
“I am...changed,” Ranboo confirmed, after the silence stretched a beat too long. His voice was stiff- too proper, too much customer-service bleeding into the tone. As though he was falling back on default programming on how to handle an awkward conversation.
“I see that, big man.” Finally, Tubbo remembered himself and smiled, stepping forward and holding out his hands for the wet clothes. Ranboo tentatively handed them over- hands tensing for a moment before releasing the synthetic fabric, as though afraid to let them go. Carefully, keeping the clothes in plain view, Tubbo shook out the wet vest, shirt and pants and smoothed them out, draping them over various pieces of furniture to dry.
In his peripherals, he saw Ranboo relax minutely.
“You can set the boots by the door,” He suggested, and Ranboo passively complied; padding over to the door to neatly line up the discarded footwear alongside Tubbo’s own muddy rain boots. Tubbo felt oddly like it completed the row. Five seemed to look nicer than four, somehow.
He fished a clean dish towel from the cabinet and offered it towards the android as Ranboo approached. He watched as Ranboo paused, glancing down at the towel, confusion washing over his features.
“I am not programmed with household chore activities,” The android informed him- matter of fact, slightly apologetic. “Although I can download them in a matter of minutes, should you desire.”
Tubbo blinked, looked down at the towel, and then back up at the android.
“...what? No, no, that’s not-” He laughed, and Ranboo looked more confused than before. Confusion relaxed his face, softened his eyes. “It’s to dry your hair, big man. It’s dripping all down your face.”
“Ah,” Ranboo replied, like he understood; though Tubbo still got the sense that the android did not in fact understand at all. So instead Tubbo rolled his eyes and rose up on his tiptoes, swinging up his arms to drop the small towel over Ranboo’s head.
The android went stiff, arms half rising in an aborted gesture and freezing in the air, as though suddenly realizing he had no idea what to do with them.
“You just rub your hair, like this boss man,” Tubbo began to vigorously scrub at the android's hair, suppressing a giggle at the way Ranboo abysmally failed to hold his head still and so his head simply wobbled along with Tubbo’s movements, rendering the attempt to dry the wet locks far more futile then it otherwise would have been. When he pulled back however, the android’s hair was a bit dryer- and far messier, black and white tufts poking out in occasional messy, frizzy puffs.
They stared at each other, and Ranboo’s eyes were comically wide, and Tubbo couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh.
The android made a sound too, after a moment- something halfway between a chuckle and a strangled choke, that sounded like it came from the back of his throat and stopped part way up, but it still came out sounding like the closest thing to a laugh Tubbo had ever heard from an android and they both froze suddenly, staring at each other, equally stunned.
Ranboo’s LED turned blindingly scarlet, and Tubbo thought that if android's had true blood, it would’ve drained abruptly from Ranboo’s cheeks.
“What was- was that a laugh?” Tubbo asked, a tad hesitantly, more curiously. “I didn’t know you could laugh. Are you okay?”
A silence stretched, and Ranboo’s eyes had gone unfocused again. Tubbo slowly set the towel aside, leaning closer. “...Ranboo?”
“I-I believe,” The android began, and his body jolted slightly. There was a noticeable stutter in his voice, and Tubbo’s eyes flickered nervously to the red of his temple. “I am experiencing some- some software instabilities. I am sorry. This has become a frequent issue, as of late.”
“That’s okay, I think,” Tubbo offered, trying to be reassuring. He wasn’t sure what that meant- was he glitching out? So he just leaned forward, carefully patting the android’s forearm. “Just uh...relax, buddy. It’s okay.”
Ranboo’s arm wasn’t warm, but through the thin fabric of the long sleeve shirt, Tubbo could feel a very faint whirring drift up against his palm; the sensation of machinery and computers at work. It was almost like a pulse, of a different kind. A hum of life, even if it wasn’t blood and warmth.
“It’s okay,” He repeated, trying to soften his voice, and slowly Ranboo’s shoulders sank again, relaxing. His LED flickered back to blue, and Tubbo released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “See? There we go, boss man.”
“I have returned to equilibrium,” Ranboo informed him, glancing back downwards. His voice returned to his more neutral, slightly friendly tone; calmer, more relaxed, and Tubbo grinned up at him. “There is no need for alarm.”
“Glad to hear it,” Tubbo chuckled gently, turning away to hang the towel properly over the handle of the oven. “Tell you what. Lets watch TV, or a movie or something.” He turned to head towards the living room, automatically shuffling around the couch cushions into his default arrangement for optimal comfort. When he glanced up, Ranboo was hovering in the entryway between the kitchen and the living area, uncertainty warping his face.
“I think you greatly misunderstand the intention of my functionality,” The android remarked, and his voice was perfectly matter of fact- but something about the faint uptwitch of his lips; the hint of a smile- it gave a slight, subtle, teasing quality to the words. Wry amusement. Tubbo grinned, and patted the couch beside him; watching and waiting until the android shuffled over and sat down, carefully arranging his long limbs into a stiff sitting position, hands folded neatly in his lap.
“Movies are great, come on,” Tubbo teased back, gently elbowing the android’s arm as he fumbled for the remote with his other hand- ignoring the voice in the back of his mind reminding that he’d brought the robot home with the purpose of locating its owner or place of work. “Have you ever seen one?”
“I am an ST300,” Ranboo reminded, almost gently. “Though I can’t... remember where I came from, my function is to work reception. I should be depowered while not actively performing tasks.”
Tubbo froze, eyes fixated on the screen, and jolted his attention back to the android at his side.
“Have you never had any leisure time?” He asked, unable to keep the mild horror out of his voice even as Ranboo averted his own gaze, stiff body shifting uncomfortably.
“I do not get discomfort from extended work,” Ranboo reassured, though there was a tilt to his voice. Like it was almost more of a question than a statement. “I am programmed to feel rewarded from completing a task. Therefore functioning is...enjoyable?”
The android’s eyes turned on Tubbo, questioning- as though seeking out confirmation that this was correct wording, correct understanding.
Tubbo swallowed, and felt hot, cold, sad pity swirl in his chest, in his throat.
“How about,” He suggested, struggling to keep emotion out of his voice- because this android wasn’t emotionless, he didn’t think, but god knows he didn’t know how to handle that can of worms- “We watch a movie. And see if you find that- enjoyable.”
“...alright,” Ranboo agreed- hesitantly, as though agreeing itself was a rather baffling, novel thing. Swallowing, Tubbo turned away, fumbling with the remote with clumsy, too-stiff fingers to play something before he sagged back into the cushions, feeling irrationally upset.
He watched Ranboo more than the already familiar film. The android sat differently then a human; too still, no fidgeting. He didn’t shift position, or lean backwards, or sag posture as time went on. He didn’t shake out limbs as they fell asleep, or glance away from the screen as attention wandered. Ranboo’s eyes fixated on the TV, attention rapt, LED pulsing with a swirling yellow as he carefully took in every second of the unfolding visual play.
Tubbo was used to Tommy- who talked through entire movies, often missing entire sections because he was too wrapped up complaining about a previous segment. Who changed how he was sitting three times a minute and for whom Tubbo had to pause the movie about eight times to let the blonde run off to the bathroom.
Ranboo was silent, attentive, and curious.
Tubbo found himself wondering, that if time went on, if Ranboo watched more movies- would he shift position more? Would he’d talk more, or make a comment, or ask a question?
“What did you think?” Tubbo asked as the credits rolled, and was startled by the tiny hum of contemplation Ranboo made; a small, idle sound. Tubbo didn’t comment on the gesture, just watched a little closer. He suspected the android wasn’t aware he’d done it at all.
“It was- enjoyable, yes,” Ranboo finally spoke, nodding his head in a small, determined jolt. He turned his head to meet Tubbo’s eyes, and smiled a little; the most genuine one Tubbo though he’d seen yet from him. “I think that definition fits. The humor was not...forced, and the acting was skillful. The story was cohesive.”
“You sound like you’re grading school work,” Tubbo chuckled, leaning a little closer- knowing he was pushing, but still asking the next question anyways despite knowing it was something the android shouldn’t really be able to answer. “But did you like it?”
Confusion danced in Ranboo’s eyes, and his smile flickered down into a small frown.
“I- I suppose something that is enjoyable would be...liked.” His voice was tentative, unsure- but Tubbo grinned wide and patted Ranboo’s shoulder, ignoring how oddly proud he felt.
“See! I knew you’d like it, big man. I’m sure you’ll like a lot of things.”
Ranboo smiled hestantly, confusion still clouding his face.
“...I do not even know your name,” The android admitted, and Tubbo suddenly realized that he’d never introduced himself. He threw his head back and laughed.
“I’m Tubbo,” He greeted when the laughter finally subsided and he could focus in on the small smile on Ranboo’s face. He held out his hand to shake, and Ranboo took it- that same familiar, mechanical pulse buzzing under his skin as they officially met.
“You are causing a lot of software instabilities, Tubbo,” Ranboo informed him matter-of-factly, and Tubbo laughed again, unable to help himself.
“Yeah, I’m not surprised. I’m told I breed mischief,” He snickered, feeling proud when the android’s smile widened just a tiny bit. “Here, come on.”
Tubbo rose to his feet, tugging Ranboo up after him. He would almost call the android’s expression bemused as they abandoned the TV, moving towards the stairs. “My family will be home soon ish- don’t worry, I’ll explain to them the deal with you. But for now, let's go to my room. We can figure out something to do.”
“Your family,” The android echoed, trepidation wiping any smile from the android's face. “The home owners?”
Tubbo paused. “Don’t worry,” He reassured, softening his voice. “They’re not going to kick you out into the rain or anything, they’re nice people. My sister is nice too. They’ll just have questions and I’ll have to explain myself. I’m sure they’ll help you find your work too, if you want.”
“...I see,” Ranboo nodded, again giving that impression that he did not, in fact, see- but was saying so anyways. His LED spun, yellow, yellow, yellow. Tubbo tugged him towards the stairs.
“Let’s go see my room,” he suggested. Blue, flickered Ranboo’s temple, and tentatively the android smiled.
“Okay,” he agreed, and up they went.
---
The human’s name was Tubbo, and his room was of adequate size for a teenager in his income range. The carpet was blue, and the walls were pale green and painted with unleaded paint, and the bed was twin-sized, wooden framed and unmade, and the window was open to the elements outside.
Ranboo took all of this info in within a blink of an eye, and still he stood with his arms at his side and patiently waited while Tubbo explained to him how he’d argued with his parents about painting the room when he was eight, and about how he loved the smell of rain and so he always opened the window when it did, and how the floor was just as comfortable as the bed, but he could sit on either.
Tubbo sat down cross legged on the floor and pushed away a crumpled hoodie to clear an empty patch beside him before patting it and looking up expectantly, just like he had with the couch on the first floor, prior to the movie.
Software Instability ^
Ranboo carefully sat down next to the teen. His borrowed clothes were baggy in a way the Cyberlife uniform was not- something his sensors had made him incredibly aware of over the last two hours- and the excessive cloth bunched around his knees and ankles as he folded his legs into a criss-crossed position to mirror the human beside him.
He folded his hands in his lap and watched patiently as Tubbo talked about how he ought to be doing homework, but that Ranboo’s presence was a very good excuse not to.
Ranboo wasn’t quite sure why Tubbo desired his company over the reward of productivity. Surely the benefits of the latter far surpassed any benefits of the former.
Tubbo smiled and said something about how talking to him was more fun than mathematics.
Software Instability ^
Tubbo laughed a lot, Ranboo noticed. His programming indicated that when someone laughed, to provoke a positive rapport in customer service, a smile in response to laughter gained trust and eagerness.
The sensation around Tubbo was slightly different, he decided. If he analyzed the two situations- from what frayed memories he could collect of working behind a desk- there were two distinct differences between speaking to Tubbo and speaking to another human.
He of course desired to have positive rapport with a customer or interactee, because that increased chance of success and probability of a positive outcome.
Tubbo triggered the desire to have positive rapport, and to- smile, without there being a desired outcome. Which felt inconclusive, and unproductive, and inefficient.
Software Instability ^
Tubbo handed him a book, and Ranboo glanced down at it. It was paperback, not an electronic tablet, which was odd, but fit with his suspected income bracket for Tubbo’s family. ‘The Princess Bride’.
A quick data check, and he knew the synopsis, the general reviews, and the genre of the book. It had a movie adaptation, was published in 1973, and was a fantasy adventure ‘rom-com’.
Tubbo was rambling about how much he liked it, how a friend’s friend recommended it and how it was very good, and Ranboo nodded, running his hand down the glossy cover.
Human’s had such intense opinions; such strong likes and dislikes.
“You’d like it, I think,” Tubbo informed him, all certainty, as though he had known Ranboo for years, as though Ranboo were a human friend he had intimate knowledge of.
“I found your movie enjoyable,” Ranboo admitted. He found himself desiring not to let this teen down. “Perhaps I would find your book enjoyable as well.”
Tubbo grinned, wide and incredibly happily, as though Ranboo had said something warranting incredible joy. He reached out when Ranboo offered the book back, but instead of taking it, like Ranboo expected, he pushed it back into the android’s chest.
“Keep it,” Tubbo insisted, eyes glittering. “A gift! Read it, tell me what you think. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Ranboo blinked at him, looking down at the book in his arms, pressed against his chest.
>>> [ Gift /ɡift/ noun noun: gift ; plural noun: gifts 1 . a thing given willingly to someone without payment; a present.]
“Oh,” was the only thing that came out, and Tubbo laughed again, like that response amused him.
Software Instability ^
The human found everything amusing. Ranboo sat beside him and they watched videos made by other humans on Tubbo’s tablet as the rain continued to pour outside and as time continued to move.
Ranboo didn’t understand a lot of the humor, or many of the figures of speech. But he could make the pop culture connections with a few seconds of searching, and Tubbo’s laugh continued to make the short circuit desire to trigger his smiling response.
So they sat and watched humans play games of their own creation, and Ranboo listened to Tubbo laugh. It triggered multiple positive correlation responses, including the reward system in Ranboo’s programing of positive social outcomes. It was enjoyable.
According to Tubbo, if something was enjoyable, then he liked it.
Ranboo liked watching the videos.
Software Instability ^
They were still sitting together when Tubbo’s family came home.
They both heard the door open and slam back shut and the voices call out at the same time- causing Ranboo to shift from his half kneel to sitting up straight, hands folded, and for Tubbo to perk up; his expression turning both excited, and nervous.
Tubbo looking nervous made something ping in Ranboo’s mind, and a warning flashed in his servors, pointing out that his own stress levels were rising as well. Perhaps it was his own form of ‘nervousness’, rising to match Tubbo’s own outward expression.
Software Instability ^
He identified two voices; both biologically female- one adult, suspected thirties to forties, one preteen. They were calling out Tubbo’s name.
“COMING!” Tubbo yelled back, and though his face was anxious, his voice was relaxed and at ease, and that surely was a good sign. Ranboo let a few of his internal warnings shut themselves off. “Hey...how about you stay here for now, Ranboo.”
Stay here. Yes, Ranboo could do that.
“Alright,” He agreed, nodding, and Tubbo smiled in that reassuring way of his. “Will you be-”
Ranboo froze, the words stopping with a jolt, like the data flowing from his circuits to his vocal processor had somehow misfired.
“Yeah?” Tubbo paused from where he’d been walking to the door, turning and raising an eyebrow. “What’s up bigman?”
Software Instability ^
“Will you be alright?” He asked, aware of the trepidation leaking into his words. His body was ridged, joints locked up tight- hands clenched in his lap in a way that could be damaging to the metal if sustained for an extended period of time.
Tubbo’s expression melted, and he smiled; something layered with an odd amount of emotion, both soft and sad and happy all at once.
“I’ll be perfectly fine big man,” The human replied with a nod, with such certainty. He spoke it like a promise. “Worst comes to worse I’ll get a bit of a scolding.” Tubbo laughed. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?”
Ranboo nodded, and watched as Tubbo slipped out of the room, closing the door most of the way behind him. He listened as Tubbo’s footsteps faded down the hallway, thudded down the stairs; listened as the voices from downstairs coursed up once more, only now with Tubbo’s joining them.
Stay Here.
That was an order, and Tubbo was currently his only human sense of...authority?
That was an order, and he would obey.
This order did not bring him enjoyment. He did not like it.
Ranboo sat, cross-legged, hands clasped, and stared straight ahead at the door. There were still too many warnings pinging through his mind; warnings of irregular Thirium pump regulation levels and warnings about how tightly his hands were gripping one another.
These were reminiscent of signs of human anxiety, his database helpfully chimed, and it did not make him feel better.
Software Instability ^
He couldn’t make out the words from downstairs, but he could make out tones. He could attempt to decipher the emotion in them.
Tubbo’s voice had apprehension in it, and qualities that made it sound apologetic.
The adult woman’s voice sounded confused, slightly raised in volume. Though subtle, there were identifiers of panic and alarm and what could be anger in her voice.
Stay Here.
Ranboo did not want to stay here.
Software Instability ^
He wanted to go downstairs, where Tubbo was.
Software Instability ^
Ranboo closed his eyes, and a large warning flashed across them about his Thirium pump.
The touch receptors in his chest were activating; mild, uncomfortable, like pressure squeezing inwards. Almost- almost painful, but Ranboo had never felt pain.
His chest felt tight.
Software Instability ^
He wanted to get up.
Stay Here.
Tubbo’s voice from downstairs was calm, but quick- words spewing fast, but unintelligible and it was making the pressure worse.
Software Instability ^
Software Instability ^
Software Instability ^
Softwa-
He fell forward with a strangled noise that escaped from his vocal processor, and the momentum forced him to quickly lift his hands from his lap and plant his palms in the carpet to prevent himself from falling face first as his knees slammed down out of his sitting position.
For a moment Ranboo knelt there on all fours, frozen- confused. His mind whirled, processing the situation- warning signs exploded across his vision, across his circuits, washing everything red and alarming and was he going to deactivate? Surely this much bad mean critical failure-
The warnings stopped. His Thirium pump regulated.
He blinked.
Very slowly, Ranboo pushed himself up until he was sitting back on his haunches, staring up at the door. He had been told to stay here, hadn’t he? Tubbo had told him, directly, to stay here, and Ranboo had accepted that as an order, accepted Tubbo as a temporary owner.
But he had moved.
Very, very slowly- tentativeness coating his every move, Ranboo slowly got to his feet, eyes transfixed downwards on his own legs as his sturdy, mechanical body rose to its full height.
He took a step forward.
Stay Here.
He took another.
His book- Tubbo’s gift, had fallen to the floor. He stooped down to pick it up, clutching it to his chest as he fumbled with the doorknob with stiff, clunky fingers. He ran down the hall, down the stairs- he wanted to be with Tubbo, he liked that idea- and froze halfway down, shoulders heaving even though he didn’t need air, didn't have lungs- staring downwards at the three pairs of eyes trained up at him.
“...hey big man,” Tubbo greeted, and his voice was sheepish, but he smiled- and he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t mad that Ranboo had broken an order. He wasn’t mad that Ranboo was a malfunctioning machine. “Yeah, so Mum- this is Ranboo.”
Ranboo raised his eyes to the adult woman, a spitting image of her son, who was gazing up at him, a multitude of emotions on her face. She looked worried. Frustrated. Exasperated. Slightly fond, under all the negativity.
“Ranboo,” She repeated, and Ranboo wasn’t sure if she was just saying it or addressing him.
Just to be safe, he murmured a nervous, “...yes, ma’am.”
“...You don’t have any memories?” The woman asked, eyes narrowed with both curiosity and distrust. Ranboo nodded, resisting the urge to look at Tubbo. “No job? No owner?”
“...I don’t think so,” He admitted, hugging the book a little tighter.
“...Mum, can’t he stay?” Tubbo said quietly, stepping closer to his mother. “He can stay with me, in my room. He doesn’t need food or anything- it won’t be a money issue. I- I like him, Mum. He’s a friend.”
Ranboo’s eyes snapped to Tubbo.
“I am not making a long term decision like that without your Dad here,” The woman sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Tubbo, you’re going to be the death of us all.”
“...sorry,” Tubbo chuckled, rubbing at his forearm; sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “But-”
“Permanently- we’ll talk about it, Tubbo.” The woman said firmly. Her eyes flicked over towards Ranboo, and Ranboo nervously looked back- feeling like that gaze was digging deep into his body, ripping the servos and circuits apart. “Temporarily...alright. If he has nowhere else to go.”
“YES!” Tubbo shrieked, so loudly it seemed to catch the whole room off guard. He flung himself at his mother, unabashed, hugging her tightly around the middle. “Thank you, thank you- we’ll be good, I promise, he’s super polite Mum, he’s great, I really like him-”
There went the positive receptors again, for no useful reason. Ranboo smiled tentatively anyways, and suddenly Tubbo’s attention was on him- and there were arms around him. He was being embraced, by Tubbo.
For a moment, Ranboo was frozen, simply staring down at the head of brown hair buried in his chest. His touch sensors told him that Tubbo’s body was warm against him. Reasonable, humans were 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit on average. This was well researched, common fact.
He reached down and stiffly wrapped his arms around Tubbo’s back, slowly relaxing his taller body down into the embrace- attempting to emulate in action the way he’d visually seen human’s hug before.
He enjoyed this. He liked it.
“I think you’re pretty cool, big man,” Tubbo said, and his words were muffled by Ranboo’s shirt.
“...you are a very strange human, Tubbo,” Ranboo admitted, leaning his head down to rest his forehead on the top of Tubbo’s head. His hair was soft. The touch was pleasant. “Thank you. I am grateful.”
He was more than grateful. Grateful was inadequate.
A hand patted his back.
“Don’t worry about it, boss man,” Came the reply, and though it was speculation and speculation was unreliable and inefficient, Ranboo thought that Tubbo was probably smiling, even though he couldn’t see due to their positioning.
“I didn’t stay upstairs,” He admitted quietly. He wasn’t sure he was ready to sit down and digest that data, unpack the implications of that.
Deviancy.
“Eh,” Tubbo shrugged, and yes, Ranboo decided. He liked Tubbo. “Come on big man, let me properly show you around the house. Since you’re staying and all.”
“Temporarily,” Ranboo reminded, but he smiled as they pulled apart.
“Not if I have my say in it,” Tubbo swore, and suddenly his face was so ferociously stubborn that Ranboo couldn’t doubt him, not truly.
“Alright,” he agreed, and Tubbo smiled. Outside, the wind howled and rain poured; harder than it had before, a gentle storm converted to a true downpour. But Tubbo guided him deeper into bowels of the house, and Ranboo finally wasn’t getting anymore pings about the stability of his software-
So while he never had minded the dreary weather previously in his rather short existence, on that day he especially didn’t.
Not with Tubbo’s excited chatter spurring him on, and not when he felt so oddly like he belonged.