Little!Tommy CG!Beeduo
Tubbo and Tommy were curled together on the massive couch in the living room of the ridiculous mansion he and Ranboo somehow owned. The place was over the top, but neither of them really minded. It was warm, it was safe, and—most importantly—it was home.
Ranboo sat beside them, scrolling through his phone while absentmindedly rubbing circles into their ankles, both of their feet resting on his lap. He had one goal tonight: research. Specifically, research on age regression. A few weeks ago, Tommy had told them—nervously, like he thought they’d be mad—that he sometimes regressed, usually to around one to three years old. He hadn’t said much more than that, but Ranboo had seen the way he tensed when they asked if he needed anything when it happened. Like he wanted something but didn’t know how to ask.
So, Ranboo was going to figure it out himself.
Meanwhile, Tubbo and Tommy were arguing—again.
“I’m just sayin’,” Tommy insisted, poking Tubbo’s ribs, “that if you put a nuke in the middle of a ravine, the force of the explosion would—”
“Oh my god, you don’t even understand how explosions work, Tommy!” Tubbo huffed, squeezing him tighter. “If you put it in a ravine, it wouldn’t be as effective! The blast force would be absorbed by the walls!”
“Wrong! So wrong! I literally—”
The sound of thunder rolled through the house, rattling the massive windows.
Tommy’s words stopped.
Tubbo felt it first—the way Tommy’s body tensed against his. Ranboo glanced up from his phone just in time to see Tommy’s face go blank, his pupils blown wide like a cornered animal.
For a moment, everything was fine.
Then, his breathing started to pick up.
Ranboo immediately put his phone down.
Tommy tried to tell himself it was okay. He was safe. He was in Tubbo’s arms. He was fine. But the thunder was too much, too loud. His brain wasn’t listening. It was screaming, shoving him back to exile, to the tower, to cold nights alone, to the stupid fucking beach party where they left him, left him, left him—
It was too much.
He felt the familiar fuzziness take over, the overwhelming panic in his chest shifting, twisting, turning into something softer, something small. He tried to fight it, but it never worked. He was already slipping.
A whimper escaped his throat before he could stop it.
Ranboo and Tubbo exchanged a look.
“Tommy?” Tubbo whispered.
Tommy just let out a sharp exhale, fists clenched into Tubbo’s hoodie. He couldn’t get words out.
Ranboo’s gaze softened. He knew what was happening. He’d read about this—stress regression. It wasn’t voluntary, wasn’t planned. Tommy didn’t even look like he knew what was happening, just that he was drowning in it.
“Hey, big man,” Ranboo murmured, moving closer. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”
Tommy barely responded, his forehead pressing into Tubbo’s shoulder. Tubbo cradled him, rocking slightly. “We’re right here, Toms. It’s okay.”
Ranboo reached out, brushing a hand through Tommy’s hair, gentle, slow. “You don’t have to talk. Just breathe.”
Tommy’s grip on Tubbo’s hoodie tightened. His breathing was shaky, but it was slowing. Tommy peeked up at Tubbo, his big, glassy eyes filled with something small and unsure. His bottom lip trembled, and without a word, he curled further into Tubbo’s chest, gripping at his jacket like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Ranboo and Tubbo both saw the shift—the way Tommy’s hands flexed like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite form the words, the way his breathing had settled into quick, uneven puffs. If he hadn’t been regressed before, he definitely was now.
Ranboo immediately adjusted, his voice dropping to something softer, gentler. “Hey, Toms,” he murmured, brushing his fingers lightly over the top of Tommy’s head. “You okay?”
Tommy blinked up at him, looking impossibly small. His mouth opened like he wanted to answer, but all that came out was a frustrated little whine as he buried his face back into Tubbo’s hoodie.
Tubbo didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, buddy,” he murmured, squeezing Tommy a little tighter. “You don’t gotta talk if it’s too hard, yeah?” He ran a hand up and down Tommy’s back, slow and steady. “You’re safe, little one. We’ve got you.”
A tiny, broken hum came from Tommy in response. His fingers flexed against Tubbo’s hoodie before they stilled, just holding on.
Ranboo and Tubbo exchanged another look.
“We should probably get him some water,” Ranboo suggested quietly.
“Yeah.” Tubbo didn’t stop rocking Tommy, gently swaying like it was instinct. “You wanna grab his bottle? It’s in his room.”
Ranboo nodded, standing carefully so he wouldn’t jostle Tommy too much. “I’ll be right back, Toms,” he promised, rubbing his arm gently before disappearing down the hall.
Tubbo sighed, settling deeper into the couch with Tommy still curled in his lap. He carded a hand through his best friend’s messy hair, smoothing it down. “You’re okay, buddy,” he whispered. “We’ll take care of you.”
Tommy let out another tiny sigh and finally—finally—relaxed completely against Tubbo’s chest. Tubbo adjusted his grip, easily lifting Tommy into his arms despite the size difference. He might not have been the tallest, but he was strong—strong enough to carry his best friend when he needed him most.
Tommy didn’t protest. He just clung to Tubbo’s hoodie, his breath warm against his neck, small and shaky.
Tubbo carried him to his room, pushing the door open with his foot. It was cozy—blankets piled on the bed, soft lighting from the lamp in the corner, and, most importantly, Henry. The little plush cow was right where Tommy had left him, sitting against his pillow.
The moment they stepped inside, another rumble of thunder shook the house.
Tommy flinched. His whole body tensed up, curling tighter into Tubbo’s chest.
“Shh, shh, buddy,” Tubbo soothed, rubbing his back. “It’s just a storm. You’re okay. You’re inside, you’re safe.”
He walked over to the bed and carefully lowered Tommy onto the mattress. The second Tommy was down, his hands darted out, grabbing at Tubbo’s sleeves with a little whimper, his eyes wide and scared.
Tubbo didn’t hesitate. He climbed onto the bed beside him, letting Tommy curl up against him again. He reached over, grabbing Henry and tucking the plushie into Tommy’s arms.
“There you go, little one,” Tubbo murmured. “Got Henry with you now. You’re all good.”
Tommy sniffled, wrapping his arms around Henry and pressing his face into Tubbo’s chest. His body still flinched at the thunder, but it wasn’t as bad. Tubbo was here. Henry was here.
And a moment later, Ranboo came back, holding Tommy’s bottle of water.
“Got it,” he said quietly, stepping inside. He took one look at Tommy—curled up, holding Henry tight, face still scrunched up at the storm—and softened immediately. “Hey, Toms. I brought your water, bud.”
Tommy didn’t respond with words, just a quiet little hum.
Ranboo handed the bottle to Tubbo, who carefully helped Tommy hold it. “Here, buddy. Just a little sip.”
Tommy took a few small sips, then let Tubbo set the bottle on the nightstand. He was still small, still curled up tight, but he looked a little calmer now, the storm outside slowly fading into background noise.
Ranboo sat on the other side of the bed, stretching his long legs out, reaching over to brush Tommy’s hair back. “You feeling a little better?”
Tommy gave a tiny nod, shifting closer to Tubbo and clutching Henry tighter.
Tubbo smiled softly, rubbing slow circles into his back. “We’re right here, little one,” he murmured. “We’ll stay as long as you need.”
Ranboo smiled softly as he lay down beside Tommy, shifting to face Tubbo. Their eyes met, and without a single word spoken, they understood each other completely.
They weren’t going anywhere.
Tubbo adjusted his grip, wrapping his arms a little tighter around Tommy, letting the warmth of his presence sink in. Ranboo reached over, brushing his fingers through Tommy’s hair, slow and gentle, grounding him.
Tommy, still clutching Henry, let out a quiet, contented sigh. His small fingers loosened their grip on Tubbo’s hoodie just slightly, his body no longer trembling with every crack of thunder outside.
Ranboo gave Tubbo a small nod. Tubbo nodded back.
They stayed like that, curled together on the bed, keeping Tommy safe. No words needed—just warmth, comfort, and the quiet understanding that, no matter what, they would always be there.