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Jschlatt adjusted his hat, ears flicking as he approached the modest farmhouse, a place he hadn’t seen in years. It had been forever since he’d been part of this world, one he left behind to carve out his own path. He didn’t expect to ever return, much less under these circumstances.
He peered at the small bundle sitting on the front step, wide eyes gazing up at him. A pair of tiny goat-like ears poked through messy curls on the child’s head. The little boy hugged a tattered stuffed bee, his small horns barely visible but promising to grow in as he aged. His nose twitched, catching Schlatt’s scent, and he blinked up at him with curious, cautious eyes.
“Uh, you the kid?” Schlatt asked, clearing his throat. He wasn’t sure how else to start. He didn’t even know the child’s name.
The toddler clutched his bee tighter and nodded slowly. “I’m… Tubbo.” His voice was barely a whisper.
Schlatt huffed. "Well, Tubbo," he muttered, crouching down so he could look the kid in the eyes. "Guess you're... mine, then." He hadn’t known his ex had given birth, let alone to a son, and the shock was still settling in. But he could see his own features in Tubbo, the soft curve of his horns, the faint scruff forming along his little jaw.
Tubbo’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Are you… Daddy?”
Schlatt felt his chest tighten. “Guess so, kid. Guess so.”
---
In the first few days, Schlatt wasn’t exactly sure how to approach parenting. He was rough around the edges, his horns nicked and ears notched from years of work and city life, while Tubbo was timid and soft-spoken, unused to Schlatt’s gruff tone and large presence.
Schlatt tried to figure things out in his own way. Meals were a mess at first; he wasn’t used to sharing space, let alone trying to make sure someone else ate too. Tubbo was quiet, always watching him with those big, wide eyes, and Schlatt could almost feel the kid sizing him up.
One morning, as Schlatt was pouring cereal, Tubbo tugged gently on his sleeve. “Do… do you have horns too?”
Schlatt raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Yeah, kid. Got ‘em right here.” He pointed to the rugged horns on his head. Tubbo’s eyes lit up, reaching a tiny hand up to touch them in awe, his own baby horns just starting to poke through.
“You’ll get there,” Schlatt assured him, trying to sound confident. “Probably gonna have big ol’ horns like mine someday.”
Tubbo giggled, a shy little laugh that Schlatt hadn’t heard before. It was a sound that stayed with him long after breakfast.
---
A few years passed, and Schlatt started to settle into his role as Tubbo’s dad, slowly chipping away at the awkwardness. They shared quiet moments and loud ones, learning each other's quirks, the distance between them narrowing little by little.
One evening, when Tubbo was about eight, a storm rolled in. Schlatt barely registered the low grumble of thunder as he read in the living room, figuring Tubbo was asleep. But then, soft footsteps pattered down the hall, and Tubbo peeked into the room, clutching that same worn bee plush close to his chest.
“Uh, Dad?”
Schlatt looked up, spotting Tubbo's anxious eyes darting toward the window, where lightning briefly flashed. “Hey, kid,” he murmured, setting his book aside. “Storm keepin’ you up?”
Tubbo nodded, biting his lip. Another crack of thunder sounded, and Tubbo’s shoulders tensed, fingers tightening around his bee plush.
“Alright, c’mere.” Schlatt patted the seat beside him, and Tubbo climbed up, nestling close to his side. “Storms are just noise, kid. Ain't nothin' they can do to ya in here.”
Tubbo nodded, pressing his face into Schlatt’s shoulder. “Will it be over soon?”
“Yeah, sure.” Schlatt put an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder gently. “Might take a little while, but it’ll pass.”
Tubbo curled up, comforted by his dad's warmth, and Schlatt continued to rub his back in slow, calming circles until the boy's eyes began to drift shut. His stuffed bee, missing an eye and half its stitching, dangled from Tubbo’s hand, and Schlatt couldn’t help but chuckle, carefully repositioning it so Tubbo wouldn’t drop it.
“Thanks, Dad,” Tubbo mumbled, voice soft and muffled by sleep.
“Anytime, kid,” Schlatt murmured back, giving Tubbo a light squeeze. “You just keep holdin’ that bee, alright? That’ll keep ya safe too.”
---
Years slipped by, and Tubbo grew into a sharp, clever teenager with an insatiable curiosity, usually directed at building and fixing things. Schlatt saw more of himself in the kid each day, and he couldn’t help but feel a strange pride as he watched Tubbo tinker with old machines and scavenge parts to build new gadgets.
One evening, Schlatt stood in the doorway, letting the sound of Tubbo’s laughter roll over him. It was a deep, hearty laugh, more confident than Schlatt remembered. He shook his head, a small grin tugging at his mouth as he hung his coat on the peg by the door. It was good to hear Tubbo sound so… grown.
He peered around the corner, watching as Tubbo, Tommy, and Ranboo sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room. Tools and bits of metal parts were scattered all over the place. Tubbo was deep in thought, his brow furrowed as he explained something about circuits to Ranboo, who was nodding intently, and Tommy, who looked more confused by the second.
“You’re tellin’ me all that junk is supposed to turn into a robot?” Tommy scoffed, looking at the mess skeptically. Tubbo smirked, holding up a half-finished device that looked vaguely like an arm.
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Tubbo teased, raising an eyebrow at Tommy. “Just wait ‘til we get it runnin’. This thing’s gonna be a masterpiece.”
Schlatt chuckled under his breath, trying not to disturb them. Tubbo had grown from that shy little kid clutching his bee plush to this quick-witted, sharp-eyed teenager, always tinkering with gadgets and coding up programs on a hand-me-down laptop. He even kept an old engine propped up on his desk, for “inspiration,” he’d say. Schlatt had to admit—seeing Tubbo take a liking to mechanics and technology made him proud, even if the kid’s projects left the living room looking like a junkyard half the time.
Ranboo looked up, catching sight of Schlatt in the doorway. His eyes widened, and he stammered, “Oh! Uh, hey, Mr. Schlatt!”
The other two spun around, and Tubbo grinned. “Hey, Dad!” he called, waving a greasy wrench.
Schlatt shook his head, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. “What’re you heathens doin’ to my living room?”
“We’re building Tubbo’s robot,” Tommy chimed in, grinning. “It’s gonna be the best thing you’ve ever seen. If Tubbo doesn’t blow something up first.”
“Hey!” Tubbo protested, narrowing his eyes at Tommy. “I haven’t blown anything up in weeks.”
“Define ‘weeks,’” Schlatt joked, stepping further into the room. He tapped the metal arm Tubbo was working on with one knuckle, admiring the intricate wiring Tubbo had managed to pull together. “You’re really gettin’ good at this stuff, kid. Not bad at all.”
Tubbo’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he gave Schlatt a proud grin. “Thanks, Dad. I, uh, think I finally figured out that code issue you mentioned. Got it to loop without crashing now.”
Ranboo laughed. “Yeah, Tubbo basically stayed up all night working on that.”
“Shut up, it was worth it,” Tubbo muttered, but his smile didn’t fade.
Schlatt gave a low chuckle. He ruffled Tubbo’s hair, ignoring the greasy wrench Tubbo was still clutching. “Well, just remember I still need this place standin’ at the end of the day,” he said, “but you kids keep at it. Wouldn’t mind seein’ how this thing turns out.”
He started to head toward the kitchen, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. “And, Tubbo?” he added.
Tubbo looked up, tilting his head. “Yeah?”
“Proud of ya, kid,” Schlatt said, his voice softer. “Keep workin’ hard.”
Tubbo’s eyes lit up, and he beamed, nodding. “You got it, Dad.”
Schlatt headed into the kitchen, hearing Tubbo launch into more details about his project, his voice animated with excitement. A soft warmth settled over him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he’d done right by that kid.