Chapter Text
——
He chokes on the smoke. It’s too thick and engulfs his surroundings and his lungs as he tries to hold his breath. His vision is worsening, and he falls to the floor as someone rushes past him. He tries to make out anyone, or thing, that could be around to assist in either getting up or getting out. The bakery is silent. He could be the last one inside for all he knows.
He doesn’t know when the fire started, who did it. All he knows is one moment he was working as usual, and the next there was yelling and an urgency to get everyone out.
Admittedly, maybe he should’ve just… left and not gone back after Tommy. But he had to, and he knew that.
As much as that is true, he couldn’t have anticipated this.
The screams are bloodcurdling.
His vision goes black before he can process it.
——
Coffee drips down into the pot in the kitchen. It’s a familiar sound. Tubbo waits silently in the window sill, and the air flows into the room. It’s a little smokey, there’s probably someone near the bottom of the building smoking something. It’s no shock, it’s a big city, it happens.
He sighs quietly. He glances at the clock. Nine thirty. Ranboo’s running late.
He peers down onto the street, spotting a figure below making a beeline for their building. He smiles to himself.
Enderchest meows, pawing at his leg. “Hey, buddy. Boo’s coming home soon,” he says, getting up to pour more food into the cat dish as dinner.
He can hear the running in the halls, and he can guess Ranboo must've taken one look at the clock and realized just how late they are. Knowing them, they got cooped up petting street cats. Stupid idiot. He loves them for it, even if it made them late for their nightly patrol of the city.
Keys jingle at the other side of the door, and as Enderchest eats, the door flings open. “I’m here! I’m—“ they almost fall over themself, “—here!” Tubbo’s the only reason they didn’t fall. He kisses them and brushes hair behind their ears. “Hello to you too.”
“Hi stupid. Late again?” He jokes, letting go of them and pressing another kiss to their cheek.
They nod sheepishly. “I got sidetracked! We can go now, I’m ready,” they insist, knocking their forehead against his. Tubbo chuckles and presses a kiss against their lips for the first time that night.
Tubbo slips his coat on and locks the door behind them as they exit, making small talk as they leave the apartment building. They appear as everyone else does, inconspicuous and like any normal person, because that’s what they are, at least to everyone else. They have normal jobs, normal lives, normal personalities. There is nothing more to them than meets the eye.
That’s what everyone believes, and that is what they’ll continue to believe, and they make sure of it. Tubbo is no idiot, and neither is Ranboo. They know better enough to make sure they not only keep themselves hidden, but that they get the job done. Maybe minus the few times it didn’t go to plan. He refuses to talk about it, too embarrassing for his liking.
The city is loud even in the dusk of nighttime, as the sun crosses the horizon of no longer being visible to those, and he flashes a smile at Ranboo as they walk down barely lit streets. Most would find them uneasy, but they’re not most people he supposes. His hands stay tucked in his pocket until Ranboo reaches to take one out to hold. “Clingy much?” Ranboo rolls their eyes. They pull him into an alleyway and kiss him. By the time they’ve pulled away, Tubbo has lit a cigarette for them to share, and he replaces Ranboo’s tongue in his mouth with the cig, taking a drag and smirking at the person in front of him. “Come here often?” he says as it;s removed and placed into Ranboo’s fingers.
“Yep, I do, actually. Nice, isn’t it?” they say, more direct than typical. Tubbo chuckles.
“Nice is a word for it, huh?” he jokes.
They wait there for a while, smoking and waiting. The moon illuminates the earth and store lights begin to go out, and the high street is much darker than prior, and they both know this is when people will try to get away with things. And sure, that may include themselves, but he likes to think it’s different in that case. They only kill people who deserve it anyway.
Maybe he should say deserved.
He remembers their first.
He smiles at just the thought of it. Maybe it’s a bit sadistic of him, but so is the murder, so it isn’t like it makes a difference to him.
Ranboo smokes beside him and he catches a glimpse of a man grabbing a purse from an old lady. He taps their hand as a signal, and they peer outside of the alleyway, and nod to each other before the man runs past them.
Thanks to his experience, Tubbo swiftly pulls him into the dark and throws him to the ground.
Their routine proves successful, and as Tubbo takes out his knife, Ranboo is already approaching the man. “What the fuck—”
Maybe it’s a little cruel for stealing a bag, but what does he have to lose?
Maybe it’s cruel that he smiles during it all, but he supposes it makes a bit of sense. This whole thing was his idea after all, wasn’t it?
He remembers the day, not too long ago, where he had turned to Ranboo, on the rooftop of their apartment building and said, “What if we just… went crazy?”
It took some convincing, but eventually Ranboo said okay.
As the blood pours out from the man’s lifeless body, Tubbo beams and holds Ranboo by the waist, dipping them and smashing their lips together.
They may be murderers, and have been, but it isn’t the most important thing in the world, no, that would have to be each other. “Red suits you,” Ranboo says sweetly, standing upright and kissing him gently and caressing his face, smiling.
“You say that every time,” he chuckles, holding them.