TW / discussion of weight/body image
"TUBBO!" The call rang throughout the house. "Yeah," Tubbo called back, before meeting his husband in front of the attic. "What's going on? What are you doing up here?"
"I don't remember," Ranboo said, not seeming too bothered by it. "But I found this box of old photos."
They emerged from the attic a bit dusty with an ancient-looking cardboard box, containing stacks of bug-eaten photographs. They whisked past Tubbo to kneel in front of the open attic door with the box and beckoned Tubbo to sit with him.
Lucky for him, Tubbo got distracted about as easily. "Oh, cool," he said, dropping to sit opposite them. "Of us?"
"Probably," Ranboo answered while picking through them. They removed one from the top and had to shake a hefty amount of dust off it before they could see. "Yeah, look at this." He handed it to Tubbo.
Ranboo and Tubbo, somewhere fifteen to twenty years younger, in white suits with their arms around each other. "Aw," Tubbo cooed, turning over the wedding picture in his hands. He paused. Ranboo must have noticed one hand drift to his stomach.
"Hey," Ranboo said gently, not continuing until he looked up. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Tubbo handed the photo back to Ranboo. "It's just weird, is all." It was weird. He knew Ranboo didn't mind the extra belly weight he'd gained since they got married, and had come to terms with it himself, but seeing himself thinner around the middle was a bit of an uncomfortable reminder.
"If it helps, when we took that picture I was so full of wedding cake that I could barely fit into my suit," Ranboo said, with a warm smile that grew warmer when Tubbo laughed.
"I know. You changed as soon as we got home and I had to spend my wedding night nursing your upset stomach."
"And you've been the best husband I could ask for ever since," Ranboo told him.
"Alright, you shut up," Tubbo said, reaching for the box to sift through more pictures. "Ha!" he cried, and showed the one he'd picked out to Ranboo. "There are all these from when we were dating. Look at the horns!"
Tubbo these days had two pairs of short-cut horns, small and blunt enough not to hurt anyone or get in the way of domestic life. He'd used them for fighting back in the day, but had them cut when he got engaged.
"I really didn't plan for this to do nothing but make you feel bad about yourself," Ranboo said in a firm tone.
Tubbo hadn't even realised he'd been rubbing his head. "I don't feel bad," he insisted. "I mean, I feel… something." He laid the earlier picture, with the long, curled horns, next to the wedding photo Ranboo had laid on the floor. "I've softened up, I guess. Got married, settled in." He allowed himself a smirk. "But I think a lot of the guys I knew back then, especially the other fighters — already thought I was a softie."
"I mean, I don't think that's so bad," Ranboo assured him. "I like you that way. You're nice."
"Yeah?" If he had gone soft, it was definitely all Ranboo's fault. He could feel himself melt a little as they spoke.
Ranboo shuffled around to Tubbo and leaned sideways into him, put an arm lazily around his waist. "Yeah."