Stay Off Tubbo's Phone, Bitch
"Oh great, it's one those days, huh?" Wilbur crossed his arms and leaned on the doorway. "Wonderful."
"Oh, hi Wilbur," Tubbo cheerfully greeted. He looked up and grinned at the older, though he didn't stop his tickle assault on Tommy's ribs.
"WIHIHIHILBUR!" cried Tommy. "HEHEHELP ME! PLEHEHEHASE!"
"Oh, shut your moth, Tommy," Tubbo playfully snapped. He dug his fingers into his ribs and watched Tommy shriek and writhe underneath him.
Wilbur softly laughed. This he had seen before. It had almost become a routine to come home and find Tommy and Tubbo locked in another tickle fight over something small and petty.
He walked over to the bed and sat down, casually grabbing Tommy's wrists and raising them above his head.
"WIHIHIHILBUHUR YOUHU DIHIHICK!"
Tubbo laughed and drilled into Tommy's exposed underarms.
"AH-! GOHOHOHDAHAMMIT TUHUBBO!"
"What did you do this time, Tommy?"
"He kept going on my Twitter," explained Tubbo, "so I'm just teaching him not to."
"L-LOOK, IHIHI'M SOHOHORRY!"
"Oh, it that why you tweeted, "Ranboo is a fucking bitch and he's American and I hate Americans, but I love Tommyinnit and bees", this morning?"
"DOHOHON'T JUST IHIHGNORE ME!"
Tommy flinched at Tubbo's angry shout. He opened his mouth to shout back before screeching in terror as the half-ram kicked open his door and stormed into his room. If looks could kill, Tommy would have been looooooong dead.
"Did you go on my Twitter again?"
Any tension in the room immediately eased as Tommy struggled to suppress his smirk. "N-No! Why?"
"Because apparently, I made a tweet about Ranboo being a bitch at 8AM today." Tubbo shoved his phone into Tommy's face as proof. "And you were home alone with my phone from seven to ten because I was out with Phil and Techno."
"Th-That doesn't mean I did anything!" protested Tommy.
"You're also the only other one who knows my Twitter. And you hate Ranboo. And you did this last month. And last week. And literally yesterday- Tommy, everything about this points to you."
The gig was up. "Okay fine!" snapped Tommy. "So maybe I tweeted something. What're you gonna do about it, bitch?"
Tubbo groaned and threw his phone on Tommy's bed. "You're an asshole," he said, flopping onto the bed as well.
"Just change your password," suggested Tommy, also throwing his body onto his bed.
"And listen to you beg for me to tell you my new password for the next three hours?" Tubbo snorted. "I'm good, thanks."
"Well then don't blame me for going on your Twitter if you're not going to do anything about it!"
"Just leave my Twitter alone!"
"I'm gonna get you for this," warned Tubbo.
"Yeah? How?" said Tommy, calling Tubbo's bluff. Well, at least he thought he was calling Tubbo's bluff.
Eventually, Tubbo took pity and stopped his assault on Tommy's shoulder blades. Wilbur noticed and pulled away from the boy's ribs, giving Tommy the chance to breathe, which he took.
"Well?" prodded Tubbo. "What did we learn today?"
"Thahat youhu're a-an ahahasshole?"
Tubbo blew a sharp raspberry on his navel.
"DOHOHON'T GOHOHO OHON YOUHUHUR TWIHIHIHITTER!"
