"JAMIE!" RANBOO shrieked, trying to grab them. "Stop! Wait, wait, actually, you're being--Jamie, you're being a gremlin!" He wrapped his arms around them, pinning their arms against their sides.
"Just because I'm non-binary, that makes me a gremlin?" They went to bite him, and he let go. "Jamie! What the actual--"
They doubled over, laughing, holding the stolen spatula over their head, even though he could still very easily take it. Damn his cursed height.
"Jamie, let me actually film my intro. You can...just keep the spatula, alright?" Ranboo grabbed their shoulders, shoving them out of frame. "When I asked for you to help me film, I didn't mean like this!"
They snorted. "You want my help, you get this." He pulled his glasses down his nose enough to glare at them before readjusting, turning to the camera which had caught that entire interaction.
"Ah, America," he sighed, "it's certainly a place, and that place certainly has food that comes from it. That took me like half an hour to think of. Okay, Jamie, now you can be a menace, it's content and makes me money."
They gasped. "And here I thought you loved me."
Ranboo didn't respond, just took the spatula away from them. "Hi, I'm Ranboo, and this is fellow American gremlin, Jamie, because Gordon Ramsey wasn't available." They opened their mouth to complain, but he shushed them with a pat on the head using the spatula. "History will say we're in a different country that's not America actually. It's bananas."
He proceeded to go through and explain how there were going to be three phases of them creating the food; American? American, and AMERICAN.
"Now," he was saying, reaching blindly behind him for Jamie's arm, "I also brought with me an assistant and the proper attire for today. As you can tell, I am dressed like someone in their mid fifties who has completely given up on life! Except my shirt has corgis on it." Spencer patted the design with the kitchen utensil.
He looked Jamie over. "They just stole a shirt out of my suitcase." He cracked up, trying not to laugh. "Jam—why are you like this?"
"Boo, we literally sleep in the same room," they argued, trying to make a grab for the spatula. But Spencer stopped them by slapping the spatula against their forehead, just barely hard enough for it to sting.
"Stop," he commanded, patting their head. "You're here to assist, don't make me banish you to wherever Tubbo is."
Their eyebrows scrunched together, their jaw dropping. "Who do you think I am? Tommy? This isn't my exile arc!"
Filming with him, it took their mind off things. He wanted them there, he wanted to spend time with them, and it felt sweet, even if it was just hanging out as friends.
