take me to the lakes
[ao3 link]
words: 4,092
characters: c!tubbo, c!tommy, background c!ranboo & michael & various pets
content & warnings: post-disc war finale, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending, implied/referenced character death (c!dream), canon-typical trauma & similar topics, lmk if i need to add anything!
summary: Here, on this snowy beach, it’s peaceful, and quiet, and Tubbo would happily stay here forever. He wonders if Tommy would want to build a house here, too. ((aka clingyduo build snowchester and live the peaceful life they deserve))
note: heyyy real quick some context, i’ve been writing this literally since the day tubbo started snowchester so the timeline is a little different. doomsday happens, then immediately after that the disc war finale happens (and c!dream dies), and then the events of this fic. ok thats all, enjoy!
The thing about the end, Tubbo thinks, is that it isn’t actually the end at all.
He and Tommy have won, finally. They‘ve taken down the most powerful person on the server, just the two of them against Dream, like it always has been. They both made it out, and Dream is dead. He has no more power over either of them or the people they care about. The discs are theirs!
(And yet L’Manberg is still blown to bedrock, and Tommy still clings to his belongings like they’ll be stolen away at any second, and Tubbo’s breath still gets stuck in his chest whenever a firework goes off—)
“No,” Tubbo murmurs to himself. He refuses to think like this. They’re alive, and that’s enough for now.
It feels strange, to have no obligations. His country is a crater. His home is nothing more than a few crumbling planks, still clinging to the stone, pretending to hold up podiums and building and lives that no longer exist.
He hates it. He hates looking at it, hates thinking about it, and hates the burning, scorching, aching feelings that come with it.
Tubbo finds himself wandering along the outskirts of the SMP, the closest land untouched by chaos. There are so many builds out here, half-completed and made of materials that almost clash horribly enough to fit together. An unfinished symphony, Tubbo’s mind supplies, and his laugh sounds broken even to himself.
He stumbles upon a small, snowy forest on the coast, complete with a frozen beach stretching out towards the ocean, and from there, Tubbo can’t see even the Greater SMP at all. It’s freezing, but the cold is welcome after the suffocating heat of TNT and netherite armor that’s been plaguing him for weeks.
A few red flowers peek through the snow, and Tubbo even spots a bee or two poking around at the pollen. There’s a shipwreck half-buried under the ice, he notices, and when he wades into the water, he finds that it miraculously hasn’t been looted yet. It feels like a sign that he should establish something here, or maybe he’s just looking for an excuse, but quite frankly, Tubbo is tired. He hasn’t had his own house in so, so long, and there’s no better time than the present to finally build something for himself.
He cuts down a few spruce trees, crafts the logs into planks, and starts building, humming a tuneless song as he goes. He forgot how freeing this could be; even with New L’Manberg, there were too many looming responsibilities for him to truly appreciate the rebuilding process.
Here, on this snowy beach, his biggest decision is choosing which window pattern he likes most. It’s peaceful, and quiet, and Tubbo would happily stay here forever. He wonders if Tommy would want to build a house here, too.
Probably not, after everything Tubbo has done.
He builds until the sun sets, pinks and oranges reflecting off the snow, and when he steps back to look at his progress, he can’t help but feel proud of himself. The cabin is cozy (or, it will be, once it’s complete) and it sits nicely among the spruce trees and snowy terrain, and Tubbo can tell that soon, it will be home.
~•~
Tubbo names it Snowchester.
Naming places has always been strange for him. He played along with the name “L’Manberg” until it was no longer a joke, and he wasn’t even there for Pogtopia’s creation. But one morning, when he’s just finished the house’s exterior, he climbs the little hill to get a nice view of his build. He looks over his new home and suddenly “Snowchester” just fits.
A few days pass, slow and calm. Tubbo spends his days collecting materials and spends his nights building, too afraid to face the nightmares that come with sleep. He decorates his house’s interior, organizes his chests, and retrieves Squeeks from where Ranboo had left him before the...before Doomsday.
(Tubbo wasn’t sure, at first, how he felt about Ranboo, after Dream had revealed him as a traitor, but he’s realized that he doesn’t particularly care what Dream said or what Ranboo did. It’s all in the past now, even if it’s a very recent past, and he likes Ranboo. The half-enderman is nice, and funny, and he saved Squeeks, and Tubbo likes being his friend.)
When Tubbo finally crafts a bed and shoves it into a random corner to be moved later, it feels like a victory. He doesn’t sleep soundly, but he is safe and content and warm.
He’s just beginning to add a railing to his little front porch when a creeper explodes somewhere nearby, followed by a screech of surprise. Despite the interruption to his peace and quiet, Tubbo finds himself smothering a grin as Tommy comes tripping out from between the trees, a bit battered and squawking as if the creeper personally offended him.
“What the hell—I didn’t even do anything! I was walking away from it! That’s—“
Tommy cuts himself off and freezes as soon as he spots Tubbo, and Tubbo feels his laughter drain away at the uncertain expression on his best friend’s face.
They just stare at each other for a moment, and Tubbo hates how strange this feels. They just defeated the most powerful person on the server together, and Tubbo can’t think of a single thing to say. Or, rather, there’s too much to say, too much that wasn’t said in the rush to prepare for battle while still recovering from a devastating loss.
“Hello,” Tubbo eventually calls, internally wincing at the sheer awkwardness in his voice.
“Hey, Tubbo,” Tommy says, taking slow, measured steps towards him. “Why are you out here alone?”
“I, uh.” Tubbo fumbles for a response, hurrying down the steps to meet Tommy in front of the house. “I just wanted somewhere to stay, away from all the...noise. If you know what I mean.”
“Ah, yes,” Tommy says, and they lapse into silence once again.
“This is pretty awkward,” Tubbo blurts, just as Tommy says,
“Tubbo, can I—“
They both laugh, a bit stilted but still genuine.
“Sorry, go on,” Tubbo says, gesturing for Tommy to continue.
“Well, I just...” he trails off, glancing at the ground. Tubbo doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tommy so hesitant in all the time they’ve known each other. It’s a bit concerning, if he’s being honest. “I wanted to apologize.”
Tubbo blinks. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” Tommy says, almost desperate. “I know I’ve messed up. A lot. When you were president, I put too much pressure on you. I put you in a difficult position, and I made you think that the discs were more important than you when that couldn’t be further from the truth. You’re my best friend, Tubbo, and I’m just...I’m sorry.”
Tommy‘s breath hitches, and Tubbo shoots forward to wrap him in a tight hug. Tommy latches onto him immediately, and Tubbo‘s chest aches. God, he’s missed Tommy so much.
“I’m sorry too,” he says, voice muffled into Tommy’s shoulder. “I regretted it the moment I exiled you. It wasn’t worth it, especially not over a prank. And I was wrong to make you choose between your home and your friends and your discs, because I know how important they all are to you and you’ve already sacrificed so much, Tommy.”
Tommy only clings to him tighter and mutters, “We both fucked up, huh?”
“We did, we really did,” Tubbo replies, voice shaking. “But to be fair, so did, like, everyone else around us, so maybe it’s not entirely our faults.”
Tommy coughs out a watery laugh. “You know, I really didn’t think you would want to be friends anymore.”
“I didn’t think you would want to be friends with me,” Tubbo says.
“Good thing we were both wrong, then.”
They stay like that, holding on to each other like their lives depend on it, for a few more minutes, before Tommy gently pulls away. Tubbo watches with a grin as Tommy tries to subtly wipe his eyes as if they haven’t just been crying on each other’s shoulders.
“So,” Tommy says, clearing his throat a few times. “Lovely little house you’ve got here.”
“Thanks,” Tubbo says, voice still unsteady with tears, but he pushes through. “It isn’t finished yet, but I’m happy with it so far.”
“You know what would make it better?” Tommy says, opening Tubbo’s supply chest and rooting through it. Tubbo takes the subject change for what it is and lets out a fond sigh.
“If you say cobblesto—“
“More cobblestone!” Tommy declares, pulling a few stacks out and shooting Tubbo a grin. There’s a warm feeling in Tubbo’s chest, and he gives in to the urge to hug Tommy again, quickly.
“I’m glad you’re back, Tommy,” he says as he pulls away.
Tommy offers a soft smile, ducking his head a bit. “I’m glad to be back.” His grin turns mischievous as he puts all but one of the cobble stacks to the side and starts building a very...square foundation next to Tubbo’s house. “Time to create a classic TommyInnit household.”
“Oh, please let me help you with the design,” Tubbo chuckles. “I want to at least try to have an aesthetic around here.”
“You just like saying the word ‘aesthetic,’” Tommy huffs, but he’s grinning wider than Tubbo has seen since before the exile. Tubbo returns it with a smile of his own, and they work together constructing a house for Tommy. Fondness and relief burn in Tubbo’s chest at the realization that Tommy is really here, and he wants to live with Tubbo, and maybe together they can heal.
Their usual banter comes easily, now, and Tubbo doesn’t even mind that Tommy’s using an outrageous amount of cobblestone. It looks pretty nice next to Tubbo’s stone brick, anyway.
~•~
Tubbo is making sure Squeeks is eating breakfast when the front doors are slammed open and Tommy comes barrelling in. It’s snowing out today, and Tommy is bundled in the puffy jacket and snow gear he’d recently made for himself. He pushes his hood off his head, shaking off stray snowflakes that melt before they even hit the ground.
“Good morning, Tubso!” Tommy greets loudly. Tubbo laughs, glancing down to see that Squeeks is now cowering under a table. He nudges the fox’s food bowl towards him.
“You scared my fox,” Tubbo mock-accuses. “Guess we can’t hang out today.”
“Aw, shut up, Squeeks loves me,” Tommy says, shuffling to Tubbo’s side and kneeling down to see Squeeks for himself. The fox shrinks back into the corner at first, but he must recognize something about Tommy, because he leaps forward onto Tommy’s leg and his tail starts wagging. “Told you!”
Tommy stays on the ground as he starts rambling at his usual loud volume, gently running a hand over Squeeks’ back.
“So where’re we building this bee farm?”
“It’s not a farm,” Tubbo corrects, “it’s a sanctuary.” He just gestures for Tommy to follow him, and the taller boy rushes to nudge Squeeks off and clamber to his feet.
“I think we’ll put it over the water,” Tubbo says as the two of them step outside, the thin layer of snow crunching under their steps. “We can easily water all the plants, and if we need to expand it we have literally an entire ocean,” he throws out an arm for emphasis, “and there can be little docks connecting it to the land that we can all use to get back and forth—“
“Who’s ‘we all?’”
“Us and the bees, obviously. In case they want to go back to normal land. I’m sure a few will build hives in there, of course, but the flaw with the bee house in L’Man—“ He pauses, the words stuck in his throat. “The. Uh. The last bee house kinda kept them captive, and I don’t want that here.”
Tommy offers a comforting smile, like he’s about to say something super reassuring. “Sounds pretty pog, Tubbo.”
“Shut up,” Tubbo says, but he’s giggling. Tommy’s face lights up like it always does when he makes someone laugh, and Tubbo just shakes his head. “Yeah, it is pretty pog.”
They build the bee greenhouse over the next few days, following a design Tubbo has been thinking of since that first day, when he saw the bees and roses in the snow. A few even fly over to examine the area when they start placing flowers down.
“Hey, Tubbo,” Tommy says one day when they’re close to completion. He sounds a bit strange, voice almost forcefully even, and Tubbo has known Tommy for long enough to see that he’s nervous.
“Yeah? What’s up?” Tubbo prompts, instantly on high alert.
“Let’s get moths!” Tommy cheers, totally relaxed, but the way he stares intently at Tubbo as if waiting for a rejection suggests otherwise.
Tubbo, however, has no intent of objecting any time soon, especially not to something like this. “Sure, why not? We just need a few night flowers and some more lanterns, probably!”
Tommy nods enthusiastically. “Yes. I can get them. And then I will name them all Clementine!”
“You can’t name them all Clementine,” Tubbo laughs.
“I will! Watch me, bitch!”
They manage to find a few of the flowers they need, and once they place down the extra lanterns, all that’s left to do is actually put in some hives. Tubbo finds an abandoned one buried in the snow and hopes it’ll do, because he doesn’t want to relocate too many active hives and risk hurting the bees. Tommy, in the meantime, carefully sets up a few tiny nooks for the moths, since they don’t have homes like the bees do with their hives.
And then it’s done. Tubbo and Tommy watch as a few bees start to trickle in, their faint buzzing easily becoming part of Snowchester’s natural background noise. They only have to wait a few days for some moths to make an appearance, flocking towards the glowing night flowers.
“That one’s Clementine,” Tommy declares, pointing at one of the more colorful, orangey moths. Tubbo is already prepared for this exact moment, and the wide, unabashed grin on Tommy’s face when Tubbo hands him a pre-made name tag makes something soft and warm bloom in Tubbo’s chest.
The moth drifts forward, and Tommy lets it land on a flower before he slowly reaches forward and secures the nametag on its ear.
“Cute,” Tubbo says, and the moth jolts away from the flower at the sound of his voice, fluttering around aimlessly.
“Aw, you’ve scared her off!” Tommy whines, but then the moth starts heading in the direction of the greenhouse and his demeanor instantly softens.
“Seems like she likes it here,” Tubbo says, and Tommy glances at him with a blinding grin.
~•~
There’s still bad days, inevitably.
Violent storms become automatic bonding days. The thunder gets to Tubbo, and the blinding snow gets to Tommy, so now there’s a not-so-hidden tunnel linking their basements. They’ve decided it is far, far better to push through the storms together.
Today, the sky is clear and sunny, but when Tubbo gets back from a Nether mining trip with Ranboo, Tommy is nowhere to be found. Tubbo searches both of their houses and the greenhouse to no avail.
Okay. So today is a bad day.
Tubbo takes a deep breath, staring out at the ocean past the greenhouse for a moment before doing a complete 180-degree turn and heading for the opposite shore of the island.
Sure enough, Tommy is there, unnaturally still and sitting on the edge of an ice patch. There’s a vacant, haunted look in his eyes when he spares a split second to glance over at Tubbo before looking out across the sea again. Tubbo doesn’t need to follow his gaze to know that he’s staring at the prison.
“I wonder if he would’ve put me in there,” Tommy says as Tubbo carefully sits down beside him.
“I dunno,” Tubbo says, voice soft. “He can’t, anymore, if he was going to. Someone should really tear it down.”
“Yeah,” Tommy mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. “He’s gone.”
“No more lives,” Tubbo agrees. “We’re safe, Tommy.”
“I know.” He sounds frustrated, his breaths coming out in short, angry puffs, and when he opens his eyes, his gaze is still locked on the prison.
“I know,” Tubbo echoes. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“I don’t know if I can trust death,” Tommy says. “I don’t know if I can trust anything, sometimes. It just seems like every single time I get close to being happy—“
He doesn’t continue. Tubbo’s heart aches, because he’s part of that, too. He exiled Tommy, left his best friend in his worst enemy’s hands and didn’t even think to check on him until it was almost too late.
“I won’t hurt you again,” Tubbo murmurs. “And I will do everything I can to keep us safe. It’s gonna stick this time.”
They’ve had this conversation a million times over, but they both still need the reassurance. It’s barely been a month, Tubbo reminds himself. This is okay.
Tommy silently reaches over and grabs Tubbo’s hand. “Can we just...stay here?”
“What if we go sit by the greenhouse?” Tubbo suggests gently. “Looking at it is...probably not helping.”
“Yeah. Okay,” Tommy says after a moment, and Tubbo waits for him to take a deep breath before they stand up together, hands still clasped.
They don’t let go of each other for a while after that.
~•~
As a snowy winter turns into a slightly-less-snowy spring, the peace does stick.
People don’t really bother them out here, and it’s nice to not have to think about what new problem has popped up for the week. Not that it’s perfect in Snowchester, but it’s much easier to deal with two-person village issues than presidential issues, that’s for sure.
Tubbo goes off with Ranboo to save a baby pigman from the Nether, and Tommy finds a friendly spider that he immediately adopts. Together they design a bedroom for Michael and an addition to the greenhouse for Shroud.
For their next project, Tubbo decides they need a water tunnel. It’s less for themselves, and more to make it easier for any visitors to Snowchester. Ranboo, mostly.
(“Kinda ironic to build a water tunnel for an enderman,” Tommy had said when Tubbo shared his idea. “You sure you’re gonna make it, Ranboob?”
“You’re right, my fully enchanted netherite armor will definitely not protect me,” Ranboo had replied. Tommy scraped snow off the windowsill and chucked it at him. “Hey! That’s made of water, you know.”
“Good thing you have armor on, then,” Tommy said, smiling wickedly, and Tubbo had quickly shooed them outside before they could have a snowball fight in the middle of his house.
At least they’re getting along, now.)
Tubbo and Tommy take a boat over to a nearby island, which is so tiny that it’s really just a glorified sandbar. They just need a few chestfuls of sand so they can smelt it into glass and fulfill Tubbo’s vision for the water tunnel’s design.
It’s peaceful as they dig in a comfortable silence, the sun gently shining down from above and the air crisp. They’ve almost filled up an entire chest when Tommy breaks the quiet.
“Is this your home, Tubbo?”
Tubbo pauses his digging, glancing over at his friend with confusion. “Huh?”
“Y’know, Snowchester, and all that. Is it—do you think it’s home?”
“Uh,” Tubbo says. “I mean, yeah. I’m happy there, and I live there with, uh, most of my loved ones, so...”
Tubbo trails off, unsure of what else to say. He looks very carefully at Tommy, but nothing seems off. In fact, Tommy just hums in acknowledgement, continuing to dig as if this is a perfectly normal and casual conversation.
“Why, do you—“ Tubbo cuts himself off with a huff. He wonders how many emotionally charged conversations it’ll take for him to get any good at them. “Do you not think it’s your home?”
“L’Manberg was my home,” Tommy says after only the briefest of hesitations. “After everything, I kinda thought I would just…never have another one.”
“That makes sense, actually” Tubbo says quietly. “Sometimes Snowchester still feels temporary. Like I’m just borrowing it from the rest of the island.”
“Yeah,” Tommy agrees emphatically. “That’s why—well, with all this tunnel shit, I was thinking about just moving back to my old house, and just coming back and forth to visit you like Ranboo.”
Tubbo’s heart sinks a little. “Oh.”
He’s surprised at his own voice, crackling with emotion, and Tommy looks up in alarm.
“I wasn’t done!” Tommy exclaims, letting his shovel fall to the ground as he waves his arms around. “I was thinking about it, past tense—but I realized I don’t even want to go back.”
“Fuck you, why would you phrase it like that,” Tubbo shoots back immediately, his sigh heavy with poorly-disguised relief.
“Fuck you, I’m trying to be sentimental!”
“Well, you suck at it.”
“Anyway,” Tommy says loudly. “I just wanted, uh, confirmation, I guess. That it’s okay if Snowchester’s my home, too.”
Tubbo stares at him in disbelief. “You’ve practically been here since the start, what do you think the answer is?”
“Sorry for being polite,” Tommy huffs, picking up his shovel again and rolling his eyes to avoid Tubbo’s gaze.
“I don’t think you’ve ever been polite in your life.”
“Shut the fuck up, I’m very polite!”
“Of course it’s your home,” Tubbo says, fond. “Always has been.”
Tommy smiles, and it’s crooked and tiny but he looks happy, which is all Tubbo has ever wanted for him, really.
“Thanks,” Tommy says, before his grin turns more mischievous. “Even if I didn’t fill in a creeper hole yesterday?”
“I take it back. I’m kicking you out.”
“Nope! Too late!”
“I’ll move somewhere else, then. There’s gotta be another secluded snow beach somewhere!”
“I’ll just follow you,” Tommy says, matter-of-factly. “Forget Snowchester, you’re my home, bee boy.”
It’s meant to be teasing, but it comes off entirely too soft to be anything but sincere.
Tubbo thinks about compasses pointing to each other even when they had never been further apart.
Tommy is staring at him, amusement quickly fading into embarrassment; Tubbo doesn’t know how to properly return the sentiment, though, so instead he just knocks his shovel into Tommy’s and says, “Clingy.”
Tommy squawks in offense, and just like that, the moment is over, conversation switching back to jokes and quips as they resume their digging.
A few days later, though, a brand new version of the Prime Path springs up, winding through Snowchester. Tommy even gives Tubbo the honor of placing down the last block.
~•~
“Those flowers are kinda like this place, huh?” Tommy says as they sit on the hill that overlooks Snowchester. They’ve put a new bench here, made of spruce wood, and crafted a new jukebox that hasn’t been battered by war; “Cat” sits inside it, music filling the air as they watch the sunset.
“Hm?” Tubbo hums, half-asleep with his head on Tommy’s shoulder. “How?”
“Y’know, life popping out of the snow or some poetic shit like that.”
Tubbo cracks his eyes open and sits up, looking around blearily until his gaze lands on the roses that are sprouting along the Prime Path. There’s so many more, now, compared to the tiny cluster he’d seen when he first found this place.
“We should plant more,” Tubbo says. “Don’t you have those alliums from Ranboo?”
Tommy scoffs. “I threw them out, me and Ranboo are bitter enemies.”
“I can literally see them through your window.”
“Nope, you are wrong,” Tommy says haughtily, lifting his chin with mock-disdain. “You’re blinded by the fact that you share a son. He’s evil, deep down! A friend-stealer!”
“You’re such a dick,” Tubbo laughs. Tommy tries to elbow him in the side, but Tubbo just pushes his arm away so he can lay his head back down on Tommy’s shoulder.
“Clingy,” Tommy mocks, even as he shuffles to be as close to Tubbo as possible.
Snowchester glows orange under the setting sun, light reflecting off the snow and making everything sparkle. It’s beautiful, really.
But Tubbo will have plenty of opportunities to admire the views.
He closes his eyes and leans a little more against Tommy, letting himself drift off to the sound of a green music disc and the gentle vibrations of his best friend humming along.
