Chapter Text
The lights are too bright for his eyes, and the sheer brilliance of them burns every time he so much as dares to glance up at where they hand from the ceiling. And while the clearest solution to this would be to look away, Tubbo still stares at them until spots dance in his eyes, just for something to do other than tap his foot and sigh. He's been in this line for almost a quarter of his day, in this room full of loud people and weird smells, and he's nearing the end of his rope with it all. There's no end to it in sight though, so he tries his best to zone out and let the world move around him. Time feels so slow here, trapped in the baggage check line. Still, he thinks as his eyes begin to burn again, it's all necessary in the end.
Someone coughs, startling him into tuning back into his surroundings.
Tubbo moves up in the line, coming to a stop at the beginning of the end, and doesn't look back to the lights again.
The room is climate controlled for the comfort of everyone in it, but Tubbo still feels jittery and too-cold with nerves as he grabs his bag off of the floor and sets it on the loading belt for security. The man behind him hums gruffly, apparently impatient and fed-up with Tubbo’s slow actions, and his shoulders shrink inwards with the slight scorn. His fingers cletch around the strap of his bag one more time before he lets it go, allowing for it to move on ahead of him. The belt thrums under the weight of all of the luggage on it but doesn’t break, which he’s slightly amazed at as he watches his small bag move away. He watches it, steadily creaking along as everyone slowly moves through the line that’s manned by only one officer to check every single bag. Tubbo hadn't expected for there to be a bag-check, and he watches nervously as the worker searches someone else's bag and gives it the all-clear. It’s not a hard process, and it looks mundane and boring and flippant, so he probably has nothing to worry about. Hopefully. For a moment, Tubbo feels a flash of sympathy for the poor woman as she unzips another one of the many bags in front of her and begins rifling through it, expression passive.
She looks how he feels, honestly.
Around him, people talk and laugh and bid each other goodbye with kisses and hugs and promises to see each other again. Tubbo can’t help the way that his eyes trace them, and something in his chest begins to grow cold the longer he watches, so he looks away.
The line moves up again, and Tubbo follows with the movement, completely alone is a room full of people.
It would be nice to have someone here, he thinks as he goes back to watching the room. To his right, a group of friends cheer as one of their own steps off of a ship and runs straight to them. They all laugh and smile and exchange words, clearly excited to be reunited. Tubbo wonders how long it'd been since they'd seen each other, then he wonders why he cares.
This is his first time away from home, and even though everything is labeled neatly, Tubbo feels very lost as the line continues to inch up.
Finally, the guard’s hand settles on his bag’s latch, tugging it open and boredly peering inside.
Immediately, her eyes widen slightly and she pulls out a gun, carefully setting it aside in a little bin.
“Confiscated until a thorough inspection can be made,” she says, dragging his bag to the floor roughly and snapping fresh gloves on with a tired sigh as she prepares to check another bag. Tubbo can only watch as his clothes flop to the ground messily, a knife clattering out of the bag alongside them, which the lady stares at for a few seconds as she obviously wishes that she were still at home. The worker sighs, picks up the knife, and places it in the tub with the gun before she opens another bag on the belt. Tubbo watches in disbelief as his everything is confiscated, feeling fucked over as he fumbles with what to do next.
(Part of him wants to ask how long it would take to get the bag back, if anyone is even going to check it that day. The lines and short-staffed area would say that it's never going to get checked, so he doesn't bother.)
Not wanting to give himself away by claiming the bag as his, Tubbo just grabs the next one to make it through the check and walks away as fast as he dares to. It's not his, and there's probably nothing useful in it, but it would be really suspicious not to have a bag as a ship-port. Especially if he's boarding. So he takes the bag, smiles at the worker, and he walks. The signs, though neat and stationed everywhere, are useless to him as he stumbles his way through the crowds, looking for the particular mismatch of symbols that are on his identification forms. He's looking down, and he stumbles into more than a few people as he continuously walks in circles and stares at his ticket and the signs and his ticket again.
Eventually, with the help of a sympathetic bystander, he finds the waiting area.
There's only one other person in the specific area that he needs to be in, and just seeing them calms something in him as he begins to cut through the crowds and make his way over. Once he gets within twenty feet, the person turns around and stares at him with bright blue eyes. Despite all of the people between them, all of the noise, they only watch each other, and Tubbo knows that it's them. Still he smiles and flashes his eyes, just to be sure.
The other person smiles in return, sharp with adrenaline, and flashes his own eyes back.
Tubbo quickly darts over and sits down next to them, glad to not be as alone, and really happy to not have gotten completely lost in the gigantic building around him. It still moves all around, like it's something alive, but Tubbo turns his focus to the holographic screens in the wall in front of him and tunes it all out. The other one, around his age, does the same, and they seamlessly blend in with each other as they sit there.
No words are exchanged between them, but that’s okay, because they aren’t really supposed to get to know each other anyways. Friends aren't really a thing in space, he thinks glumly as he glances at the other out of the corner of his eye.
Getting onto the ship- L’Manburg- is as easy as flashing their false tickets to the nice worker at the gate and stepping onto the plank to board, which actuallu leads to a small room that connects to the ship.
His partner's ticket reads 'Tommy Innit', a joke that humans don't get but that Tubbo appreciates, and he commits the name to memory in case it comes into play later. ‘Tommy’ stands idly next to him, hands in his pockets and cheeky grin on his face as they both wait for the door to open to the loading room that leads to the ship. It's a safety thing, having so many doors and procedures, and Tubbo can see the sense in it even if it makes him feel trapped; the last thing anyone wants is for a small hole to kill everyone, even if they're on a planet. Tommy seems impatient next to him, and he almost says something, but decides against it at the last second and shuts his mouth- Tubbo isn’t sure exactly who this one is, and he’s not going to try and have a heart to heart on it now.
They aren’t supposed to make friends anyway, Tubbo reminds himself again, looking anxiously to the door- just get the job done. When he glances over again, Tommy is staring at him already, mouth open like he's about to say something.
Likely his saving grace from an awkward situation, the doors hiss open with a little green light, giving them the clear signal to walk through. Tubbo takes a deep breath as he grabs his stolen bag, giving Tommy one last glance before they both step into the main area of the ship, where the crew is waiting to greet them and make introductions.
There's only three of them, Tubbo notes with some mild shock that he's careful to hide. Beside him, Tommy is grinning like a shark in bloody waters, eager for what's to come as he takes in the smaller-than-anticipated crew.
“Tommy and Toby, I’m guessing?” asks a man wearing a hat, sticking his hand out with a warm smile on his face.
Tommy steps forth, takes it, and simply says, “yes,” before he steps back to be beside Tubbo, stiff but still sure of himself in the face of three total strangers. His eyes keep flicking over to a man with pink hair, and his expression stays the same even as his hackles raise, which makes Tubbo curious enough to also look at the man. He looks intimidating for sure, being much taller than Tubbo and looking so apathetic that all Tubbo's brain can do is scream that he must know what he and Tommy are, he's figured them out already-
“I go by Tubbo,” he says quickly as he gently accepts the hand before stepping back and giving a small wave to everyone and effectively distracting himself from his spiraling panic. He gets a few smiles for it, and they make something in his chest lighter as he returns the expression with a tilt of his head as he adjusts the bag on his shoulder. It's too heavy for him, and it's obvious that everyone knows it as the man with the hat smiles softly and reaches out to take it. Tubbo smiles sheepishly and lets him, rolling his shoulders when the weight is gone, pretending not to bask in the looks he gets for it.
(If they think he’s endearing, they’re less likely to suspect him, after all. Tubbo doesn’t want to die, even if he’s supposed to be willing to.)
The introductions are still a little awkward, as it’s just Tommy and Tubbo joining a group that already knows each other, but he keeps a smile on his face because first impressions are important.
"I'm Captain Wilbur Soot, and this is my crew," a man in a white lab coat says with a charming smile, gesturing to either side of him. The man in the hat just waves at them briefly as he introduces himself, having already shaken their hands earlier, "Phil Watson."
Silence, expecting and long, fills the room as everyone turns to the last crew member, who's shoulders slump.
"Technoblade, but you can just not talk to me," the intimidating man that Tommy was staring at earlier eventually says with a tired huff, like even having to be this social is exhausting for him.
“Tommy and Tubbo, then,” Wilbur pulls their attention away from Technoblade, who looks relieved, “welcome to the ship.”
“Orphans,” Technoblade mutters in what Tubbo thinks is supposed to be a welcome with a nod, earning himself a slap on the shoulder from the one in the hat- Phil.
"He doesn't mean it-" Phil buts in, waving a hand to dismiss his crew member's comment, but Tommy interrupts him.
"Don't be a bitch."
Wilbur chokes on a startled laugh, Phil not far behind, as Technoblade makes an odd noise in the back of his throat and Tubbo stares at Tommy, who's obviously more prepared for this than he is- Tubbo doesn't know any of the human slang, he can barely even make sense of the simple words while reading. Numbers are completely lost on him, all too squiggly and with too many different forms, which depended on who was writing them at the time, and even that could change-
“Sorry I’m late!” a man calls breathlessly as he jogs up to them, feet making thudding noises on the metal under his heavy boots. He's tall, though not as tall as Technoblade, and Tubbo is immediately slightly disheartened by his presence alone. Tommy seems frustrated beside him, and Tubbo can relate to it slightly, as their mission just got a little bit harder with this new addition.
“Steven, I’m guessing?” Phil laughs with a smile as he sticks out his hand once more, endlessly willing to greet new people without even blinking.
“Ah, call me Steve,” the man says, panting exaggeratedly as he puts his hands on his knees and drops his bag to the floor. It earns a few laughs, which Tommy joins in on, but Tubbo remains quiet, ears focused on the sound of Steve's bag when it had hit the floor. His nerves feel frayed, like something is rubbing against them wrong, but he still does his best to plaster a smile on his face as they're all finally led onto the ship and given the tour.
A few times, Tommy nudges him and glances pointedly at panels and machines, and Tubbo does the same, playing it all off as a small shoving match when someone catches them doing it.
Hours later, he and Tommy are both sitting in their shared room, letting the dimmed lights wash over them as they try to work out a plan. Well, Tommy is trying to work out a plan- Tubbo is really trying to work out Tommy, hoping that understanding him will help them work together better. He's not having much luck, if he's honest, but that's okay because he's got time. They've both got all night, if that's what it takes.
“What are we going to do first?” Tubbo finally asks as they both sit on their respective bunks, his just above Tommy’s in an oddly built choice of structure.
(He even has a little ladder to get up to it, which he doesn’t actually need but definitely uses just for the novelty of not having to haul himself up with his own strength every single time. It's nice, he thinks, and so completely alien to him. Tommy had scowled at it, but they'd both taken turns using it.)
“Okay, so,” Tommy begins as he kick his legs idly, socked feet sliding against the metal floor panels almost silently, “first, we’re gonna kill someone-”
Tommy is impulsive and eager, and Tubbo isn't. It's going to be hard, he thinks, but it is what it is. Still, he attempts to guide Tommy down a different trail of thought, trying to come up with a plan that won't have everyone shooting them out of the airlock within mere minutes of putting it into action.
“We need their trust before we stab them, I think,” he interrupts, cocking his head at the other from his higher vantage point. Tommy peers up at him, rolling his eyes even as Tubbo watches him think it over and accept it as a good idea. His partner, however impulsive, is far from stupid.
“Sure, fine , whatever- let's sabotage then, yeah?”
"What are we going after first?"
"Lets start easy," Tommy muses as he finally lays back on his bed, staring up at Tubbo, who also lays down but hands his head over the side so he can still see Tommy.
"Easy like... lights?" he asks shuffling to make sure he doesn't slide off of his bed.
"Lights," Tommy nods, grinning up at him, "now stop staring at me like a creep and sleep or something. We've got things to do tomorrow, little T."
Tubbo rolls onto his other side and stares at the wall, wide awake as he ensures that he has the ship mapped out in his head.
They can't afford to mess this up, neither of them can, and everything has to be perfect.