TommyInnit's unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death

We Didn't Start The Fire It Was Always Burning

Tommy wakes up to a foot in his face.

This is not unusual.

However, this foot is long and has a spongebob squarepants sock on.

That's not Tubbo's foot.

Tommy sits up abruptly and almost falls off the bed.

There is another boy in his bed.

"What the fuck."

Tubbo stirs from his end of the bed, rubbing his eye blearily as he glances over at his roommate. "Tommy shut up you dick."

"Why is this bitch in our bed?!" Tommy demands, fists clenching the covers in anger.

Tubbo glares at him, "Because you fucking shot him in the arm."

"Okay?" Tommy furrows his eyebrows, "That sounds like a him problem."

" You shot him."

"Okayyyy?" Tommy drawls, "Still don't know why he's in my bed."

" Our bed," Tubbo corrects, "You're lucky I didn't make you sleep outside. The least you could do is let him recover."

"Recover from what? It was a dart! I didn't stab the bitch or some shit," Tommy rolls his eyes.

"He could report you to the authorities for assault. You shot him. He cried." Tubbo glares.

Tommy shrugs, "Eh,"

Tubbo has the audacity to pull the covers further around the two-toned stick boy and pat his head protectively. What the fuck.

He's being replaced. It's official.

"Is this it? Is this the end Tubbo? Of us? Of all we've built together?" Tommy bemoans, head in hands.

"What are you on about now?"

"All the memories. The orphanage. The noodles we ate together. That one time I ate all your skittles. The time you threw me out the window. The other time you threw me out the window. When we jumped off a train. When you set fire to that building and blamed me. That time you pretend to be my dad-"

"I thought Henry stole my skittles?"

"Shhh," Tommy soothes calmly, "I'm reminiscing about our relationship. I'm grieving."

Tubbo stares at him in exasperation. "Grieving what?"

"The end."

Tubbo snuggles back under the covers, shoulder to shoulder with that imposter . "I could keep questioning your bullshit but I'm tired. I'm going back to sleep. Go find a hobby or something. Actually, how about you get a job. You're sixteen. It's legal."

Tommy frowns, offended. "I have a job."

"Do you get paid?"

Tommy pauses, raising a finger to his chin in thought.

"Exactly."

Now that Tommy thinks about it, all his hard work stopping drug dealers and being epic goes unnoticed. No one ever pays him for his constant vigilance.

"You know what?" Tommy starts loudly, clapping his hands together, "I'm going to get a job that gives me money. I'm going to get a job and you're going to be so impressed by my job skills that you will forget all about Ranboob and beg for my forgiveness. Then I will consider accepting your apology, but I will make you beg some more and make you buy me dinner and then you will be my servant for a week and do my laundry. Then and only then, will I accept your apology for ignoring my charisma and charm for some wannabe slenderman. I will have so much money."