Work Text:
Ranboo didn’t care for witches.
Maybe it was too sweeping a declaration to make against such a varied group of people, but when you were cursed by a witch to be a cat for the rest of your life, it didn’t seem unreasonable to Ranboo that one might develop a rather healthy fear of them.
Ranboo was eleven when he was cursed. It had been a long time since then— three winters, to be exact. He knew because he’d nearly died during the first one.
He was a tuxedo cat, he supposed, or some poor imitation of one. Rather, he was split— half-white, half-black— right down the nose. He knew he was startling to look at. Heck, he’d startled himself the first time he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the stream.
But now, Ranboo was used to it. He could hardly remember a time he didn’t walk on all fours. He slept in trees more often than not, and sometimes under porches for as long as it took for the owners of the house to notice and shoo him away. He spent his days in the forest that bordered the village, catching mice, climbing trees, and scampering away from problems he created for himself.
Ranboo was a cat, plain and simple. These days, he thought of his human life as someone else’s, like a dream that lingered in his mind for longer than it should after waking up.
He was content as he was. But he still didn’t like witches.
Against all odds, however, he liked Technoblade.
He shouldn’t, given everything he knew about the man:
Technoblade was the definition of intimidating. He spoke with finality and his hands were large enough to crush Ranboo’s feline form between them. Worst of all, he was a witch.
Ranboo never would have snuck in the open window if he’d known it was Technoblade who lived in the lonely cabin.
But fortunately for them both, Technoblade had fed him before Ranboo cared enough to notice the magic the man exuded. And after eating the most delicious meal he’d ever had in his life, Ranboo found it hard to care that the man was a witch. After all, he’d already been cursed. What else could Technoblade possibly do to him?
So Ranboo kept coming back, tracing steps along Technoblade’s cabin window sills until the man invited him in for a bowl of food and a lie in front of the fire.
He liked Technoblade and the monotone way the man spoke. He liked how gentle he was with him, his large, calloused hands never rough as he plucked Ranboo up and brought him inside to feed.
Technoblade was generous, both with his food and his attention. As a stray, it wasn’t often that someone deemed him clean enough to touch. But Technoblade never seemed to care that his fur was matted and that his white half was closer to brown from dirt stains. He was unbothered, petting him gently as Ranboo scarfed down the food he provided, though he did click his tongue softly sometimes and say, “We’ve got to get you in the bath sometime, eh, kiddo?”
Ranboo would bristle then because one, he wasn’t a kid, and two, there was no way in heck he would ever let someone submerge him in water. Even the trickling stream a few hundred yards from the house frightened him; Ranboo only ever dared to catch minnows in the very shallowest parts.
Fortunately, Technoblade had yet to make good on his threat of a bath, so Ranboo kept coming back.
His approach had changed over the few moon cycles he’d spent coming to the cabin. At first, he’d been timid, afraid that the man’s kindness was a one-time occurrence. But Technoblade never faltered in his displays of generosity, greeting Ranboo with a small smile and a bowl of food each time he showed up. Ranboo began to stick around for longer afterwards too, enjoying the heat of the hearth and Technoblade’s undemanding attention.
Ranboo was half-grateful for the collar around his neck, for it gave Technoblade his name when Ranboo was otherwise helpless to communicate it. (Though that fact alone wasn’t enough for Ranboo to think fondly of it. The collar had been bestowed upon him by the witch who’d cursed him, and it held some of the curse’s magic. To break the curse, it wasn’t enough to simply remove it— believe him, Ranboo had tried— but it carried something in it that kept the curse active.)
Getting picked up had been hard to get used to at first, especially considering the ease with which Technoblade could fit him in a single hand. But eventually, Ranboo came to enjoy being scooped up, tucked in the crook of Technoblade’s arm or being lifted to sit on his broad shoulder.
So against his better judgment, Ranboo liked Technoblade.
Even when the man ran his finger too lightly over Ranboo’s ear and made it tingle and twitch, Ranboo liked him. He liked how Technoblade laughed when Ranboo’s tail bapped against his nose or when Ranboo would chase the dust sparkling in the sunbeams.
Ranboo liked Technoblade and even better, he was pretty sure Technoblade liked him too. It was perfect. Ranboo wanted nothing more.
***
Ranboo’s leg was on fire.
He hadn’t meant to antagonize that fox. Despite having been a cat for so long, he still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of sniffing out territories and apparently he’d stumbled just a little too close to a fox’s den.
The teeth weren’t necessarily a surprise. The yank was.
Ranboo didn’t know he was capable of making the sound he made then. It was a yowl— something fierce, primal, pained.
His vision whited out and by the time it cleared, he was a hundred yards away, dragging his limp leg behind him. It was bleeding lazily, but that was nothing compared to the pain of the bone. It had to be broken, if the awkward crook of it meant anything. He couldn’t look at it without wanting to retch. He’d never been injured like this before— never been hurt in a way time wouldn’t fix. He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could fix this on his own.
No. He needed help.
So instead of limping back to his usual den— buried deep in a rotting log— he began to stumble instead towards the soft lantern light of Technoblade’s cabin.
Ranboo was nervous. He’d never come to the witch with a problem bigger than his growling stomach or matted fur. But he didn’t have much of a choice. It was taking every ounce of his strength just to drag himself to the cabin.
When he spotted the lantern light from the porch, he nearly collapsed in relief. Technoblade was there, relaxing on the porch with a book open in his lap.
Ranboo opened his mouth and let out the most pitiful meow he’d ever heard himself utter.
Technoblade’s eyes snapped up immediately, his red irises darting until they found Ranboo trembling in the grass.
“Well, hey there.” Technoblade sounded surprised. Ranboo supposed he couldn’t blame him. He’d never showed up at this time of night before. He was just lucky Technoblade was awake to greet him.
Technoblade rose from his chair, his book falling by the wayside as he descended from the porch and lowered himself to sit on the steps at Ranboo’s level.
He sounded even more surprised as Ranboo stumbled the rest of the way over to collapse into his lap. “Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong?”
Ranboo whined pitifully. Technoblade’s hands were careful as they lifted him up, but it didn’t keep fire from shooting up his back leg at the movement. He let out a keen, twisting helplessly in Technoblade’s grip.
“It’s okay,” Technoblade said, alarm evident in his voice. “I gotcha.”
Ranboo whimpered. He did his best not to jerk away as Technoblade maneuvered him gently.
“Ah, bud.” Technoblade’s voice was low, barely a murmur as he examined his injury. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
Despite the pain that threatened to overtake his senses, Ranboo managed an indignant noise. This was hardly his fault!
Technoblade let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re innocent.”
Ranboo mrrp-ed, satisfied.
Technoblade stood, careful not to jostle Ranboo and the stiff way he held his back leg. “Let’s get you inside, yeah? Gonna take good care of you. You’ll be back to crawling all over me in no time.”
Ranboo purred in agreement. He was pliant as Technoblade carried him inside and laid him out on the table. Then he brought out things that reeked of magic and Ranboo went stiff all over again.
He didn’t like magic, despite being made of it, and he certainly didn’t appreciate it when witches did magic in his vicinity.
He squeaked in fear as Technoblade began combining ingredients in a large bowl, scrabbling away as best he could on the wooden table. His plan was foiled in seconds, Technoblade’s large hand landing on his abdomen and pressing him gently but firmly in place.
“It’s okay,” Technoblade assured him, now mixing with only one hand. “It’s not gonna hurt you.”
Ranboo keened, his teeth snapping uselessly.
“You don’t like magic, huh?” Technoblade mused aloud. Ranboo bared his teeth in a weak hiss.
“Sorry, kiddo. This one’s serious enough that I can’t afford to mess around. This potion will save you a lot of pain and suffering in the future.”
Ranboo was hardly in a position to argue, but he made his displeasure known even as Technoblade had his way.
Before he knew it, he’d been coaxed into drinking Technoblade’s disgusting, magic-laced concoction. To his annoyance, the burn in his leg almost immediately receded. Technoblade seemed satisfied as he wrapped the injury in a clean, white bandage.
“Are you hungry?” Technoblade asked, scrubbing away the blood that had trickled onto the table.
Ranboo nosed at his hand insistently.
“All right,” Technoblade said, ruffling the spot between his ears. “I got you.”
He filled a little bowl with some food and set it in front of Ranboo, where he went to town on the meal. Technoblade didn’t bother him as he cleaned up, but once the table was clear, he went back to petting Ranboo. Ranboo was otherwise occupied with licking the nearly-empty bowl clean, but Technoblade didn’t seem to care.
Ranboo huffed and shrugged away from Technoblade’s hands. He was busy— couldn’t Technoblade see that?
The man chuckled and scooped him up. Ranboo let out an indignant noise as the man carried him to the big armchair he was not allowed to sit on (but definitely still did). The man settled there, Ranboo in his lap, his hand a soothing weight on the back of his neck.
Ranboo let out a disgruntled noise, but relaxed into the man’s heady warmth anyway.
Technoblade hummed, tilting his head slightly as he observed Ranboo.
“You’re not really a cat, are you, Ranboo?”
Ranboo stiffened, but the hands on him remained gentle as they stroked his fur.
How could Technoblade tell? In the three years Ranboo had spent with four paws, not a single person had ever picked up on the fact that he wasn’t a natural-born cat.
Apparently, Technoblade could sense his stress because he kept speaking, his voice low and soothing.
“It’s okay,” he said, stroking a smooth line down his spine. “I can feel your magic. At first, I thought—” He stopped and corrected himself. “Your magic’s not like that of a familiar. It’s something else. Something… thick. Like a fog I can’t see through.”
Ranboo had no idea what he was talking about, but he liked the way Technoblade’s chest rumbled when he talked. Ranboo snuggled a little closer, kneading his face against the man’s shirt.
Technoblade made a soft noise of contentment. “We’re gonna figure it out,” he said quietly. “Just give me some time, yeah?”
Ranboo wasn’t sure he knew what he meant by that, but it was hard to focus too hard on it when Technoblade was petting him like that.
“It’s got something to do with your collar.” Technoblade’s voice was a thoughtful murmur as he fiddled with the leather circlet. “Let’s see if I can’t help you out.”
He continued messing with it, sliding it off of Ranboo and muttering words Ranboo didn’t understand under his breath. Finally, he sighed and refastened the collar loosely.
“It’s gonna be a little while before I can figure out how to break this. Are you okay to sit tight for a few days while I try?”
Ranboo landed a gentle nibble on Technoblade’s finger and the man laughed.
“I guess not, huh?” He freed his finger from between Ranboo’s little teeth. “How about we make a deal then?”
Ranboo’s ears pricked up in interest.
Technoblade chuckled softly, scritching under Ranboo’s chin. “You need to stay here for a few days anyway, until that leg is all healed up. If I can’t figure out the magic you’re under by then, I’ll let it go. Deal?”
Ranboo tilted his head, considering. He supposed he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. He nosed at Technoblade’s chest in a tentative agreement.
“Good.” They sat there for a little while longer, Ranboo dozing softly in Technoblade’s warm lap. Then he was picked up, cradled carefully in the crook of Technoblade’s arm, and carried somewhere. He only opened his eyes when he was set on his feet, blinking in the light of the new room. It was a bedroom, as best he could tell, complete with a massive bed in the center.
“Here,” Technoblade said, beckoning him over. Ranboo followed, his ears pricked in interest as Technoblade patted something in the corner. “I made you a bed.”
Ranboo sniffed it curiously. It was a pile of blankets, curled into a little nest on the floor.
Ranboo looked at the so-called cat bed. Then he looked at the large bed in the center of the room. With an awkward, three-legged jump, he hopped up onto the human bed. He purred contentedly, kneading the soft bedding before settling down smack-dab in the center of the mattress.
“Absolutely not.” Technoblade’s voice was unamused as he scooped Ranboo up and placed him on the ground. “This is my bed. I made you your own.”
Ranboo meow-ed, his annoyance loud and clear. But Technoblade held firm, staring at Ranboo until he limped back to the cat bed and settled in the blankets there.
Technoblade shuffled around the room for a few minutes, changing into softer clothes. Then he blew out the last lantern. Ranboo’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark, but when they did, he watched as Technoblade settled himself in bed. The man sighed contentedly, warm under the covers.
Ranboo waited approximately thirty seconds before he stood, loped awkwardly towards the bed, and hopped up onto the mattress. With a satisfied purr, he curled up next to Technoblade, his back pressed to the man’s furnace-like body.
Technoblade let out a long suffering sigh, but this time, he didn’t kick Ranboo off the bed. Instead, he rolled onto his side, wrapped one large arm around Ranboo, and enveloped him in a cocoon of warmth.
Ranboo purred loudly, nosing gratefully at Technoblade’s hand where it fell around him.
Technoblade grunted, but it wasn’t a noise of annoyance. “Sleep.” He thumbed over the smooth fur between Ranboo’s eyes.
Ranboo closed his eyes and let himself drift.
***
“Come here, buddy.”
Ranboo hissed at him and tried to skitter away, but a large hand caught him by the back of the neck.
Indignation flared through Ranboo as he realized: Technoblade had scruffed him! He couldn’t fight the way his body went lax, his head lolling slightly to expose his neck.
“Good boy,” Technoblade murmured, settling Ranboo across his lap. Ranboo tried to move, but he found all he could do was slump limply across Technoblade’s legs. Technoblade traced a gentle hand down his spine before settling it between Ranboo’s ears. Weakly, Ranboo lifted his head to prod the man into petting him. He did, playing with Ranboo’s ears as Ranboo’s head fell back to his lap.
“I know.” There was a quiet smile in Technoblade's voice. “You’re all right.”
He continued stroking him until finally he began to fiddle with Ranboo’s collar. Ranboo whined at the intrusion, but Technoblade was insistent as he slid his fingers beneath and fingered the charms there.
“I can’t figure it out.” There was an edge of frustration to the man’s voice. “It’s the strangest curse I’ve ever seen. Removing the collar doesn’t break it, but there’s no other obvious mechanism I can see.”
Ranboo wasn’t interested in Technoblade’s magical mutterings. He pawed at the man’s thigh, making his protest known.
“Chill,” Technoblade said, running a heavy hand down Ranboo’s spine. Against his will, Ranboo slumped. The pressure was grounding and to his annoyance, it eased his distress in one fell swoop.
For a few minutes, Technoblade just messed around with the collar. Ranboo could feel his magic, poking and prodding at the curse chaining Ranboo’s soul.
Then Technoblade stopped.
“Oh.” He sounded very surprised.
Ranboo didn’t care. He was overcome suddenly by a wave of exhaustion, tugging at his eyelids like there were boulders attached to them.
He didn’t remember much beyond that as he drifted off into a heavy sleep.
***
Ranboo woke up sore. His whole body ached, like he’d spent all of yesterday running from wolves.
He certainly might have; he didn’t remember much of yesterday.
He opened his eyes to darkness. He couldn’t tell immediately where he was— whatever room he was in didn’t smell like much of anything— but he found he didn’t really mind not knowing for now. He was on a bed, strangely enough; he must have fallen asleep sometime in the afternoon and Technoblade had— for some reason— settled him on the bed instead of the couch.
He rolled over on the bed, scrunching up his nose and flexing his paws. They felt a little funny, but he didn’t linger on it.
He found the edge of the bed easily enough in the darkness and made to leap softly to the ground.
It didn’t go at all how he expected it to.
He clattered to the floor with a loud thump, the ground an awful lot closer than he was prepared for. His limbs ached something awful, weighted down with pain. His whole body felt strange and stretched out, like there was more of him than there should be.
“Ranboo?”
There was a noise somewhere on the other side of the wall. It was strangely muffled. Why couldn’t he hear anything properly?
The door opened and light flooded in. Ranboo squinted against it, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of light.
“Hey.” Technoblade’s voice was oddly cautious. “It’s okay.”
Ranboo blinked hard to clear his vision, looking down to hide from the light and—
Oh.
Oh gods.
He found himself staring down at someone else’s body.
It was long and thin and entirely too human, all folded up clumsily beneath him. He let out a squeaked shriek and scrambled away.
Or, he tried to.
In some horrific game of shadow, the body followed him. Again, he tried to escape, a panicked keen falling from his mouth. His back hit the bed and on instinct, he went to scramble beneath it.
Technoblade reached for him, his hands outstretched and his eyes wide. “No, wait—!”
He didn’t quite get to him in time before Ranboo’s head slammed into the wooden frame of the bed. Ranboo let out a yelp as pain rocketed through his skull.
He collapsed in a heap, his body jelly as the pain overtook him.
“Aw, bud.” Technoblade’s voice was sympathetic as it washed over him. Hands slid beneath him, propping him upright, but he was bigger in Technoblade’s hands than he’d ever been before and this wasn’t right.
This wasn’t his body— it couldn’t be his body. But when he lifted his front paw, the human arm rose too. He stared at it, its pale, stick-like fingers trembling.
No. No, no, no.
His breathing picked up and he realized with a hitch in his breath that he was starting to cry.
The sobs came out hoarse and stuttered, his vocal cords damaged from years of disuse. He pawed at his face, but his human fingers met human features and that only made him panic all the more. He was crying fully now, hitting uselessly at his too-human head.
“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Technoblade said, reaching for his hands to pull them away from his head. Ranboo whined, yanking fruitlessly at his hold.
“Easy,” Technoblade repeated, low and steady. With one hand, he pinned Ranboo’s wrists together in his lap and he planted the other solidly against Ranboo’s heaving chest. “Breathe.”
Ranboo tried. He pushed aside the fact that he was now human, in favor of heaving deep, gasping breaths in. Technoblade guided him through each one, tapping at his chest for each inhale and pushing at it when Ranboo needed to exhale.
It took a long time for his vision to clear, but when it did, Ranboo found himself on the ground. He blinked, his eyes wet and heavy. His vision was blurry, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the tears clouding his vision or if his human eyesight was just that bad compared to that of a cat.
He peered through his watery gaze and found the steady outline of Technoblade.
Technoblade was here. He was sitting, cross-legged, on the ground in front of Ranboo, his posture open and undemanding.
Ranboo couldn’t think. His mind was clouded with fear, so he just did what he’d always done when he was scared and Technoblade was in reach. He crawled right into his lap.
“Oh.” Technoblade sounded surprised, but his arms came up automatically to cradle Ranboo. Ranboo buried his face in the man’s neck, snuffling at it until a large, familiar hand found his hair. “Okay. We can do this. Whatever you need, kiddo.”
The words rumbled familiarly through Technoblade’s chest and Ranboo did his best to press himself even closer.
It was a little awkward— Ranboo was much bigger now than he’d ever been before in a position like this— but Technoblade was large enough that even in a human body, he could hold Ranboo easily.
“I know you must be scared.” Technoblade’s voice was low and steady and Ranboo did his best to take a modicum of comfort in it. “You’ve been a cat for an awfully long time, haven’t you?”
Ranboo sniffed and nodded. He pressed his head upwards into Technoblade’s hand, nuzzling it in a move familiar enough to take comfort in.
“You gave me quite a surprise, you know,” Technoblade said, almost conversationally. “I knew you were under a curse, but I had no idea…”
Ranboo let out a low, unhappy whine. When Technoblade had first spoken about the curse, he hadn’t imagined the man would ever actually be able to break it. Ranboo had been a cat for so long, he’d been under the impression he would be this way for the rest of his life.
“How old are you, kiddo?” Technoblade’s voice was soft, like he was afraid of spooking him.
Ranboo floundered as he tried to think of the answer. How old was he? Had he aged in the years he’d been a cat?
He shrugged helplessly, going back to pressing his cheek into Technoblade’s warm palm.
“Okay,” Technoblade said with a quiet exhale. “Well, you don’t look much older than thirteen to me.”
Ranboo shrugged again. He’d been eleven when he was turned. It had been three years since then. Close enough, he supposed.
“Yeah.” Technoblade’s fingers were gentle where they danced through his hair. “You’re just a little guy, aren’t you?”
Had Ranboo had the energy, he would have bristled— he was hardly little— but as it was, he barely had the strength to do more than nuzzle into Technoblade’s touch.
“Ranboo.” Technoblade said it slowly, like he was testing the name out in his mouth. Ranboo blinked up at him in response.
“That is your name, isn’t it?”
Ranboo pawed at his neck, where his collar should have laid. Instead, his fingers met empty skin. Even so, he gestured at it.
“It is your name,” Technoblade guessed. “Your collar was right.” He grimaced a little. “Sorry, I feel a little weird calling it a collar, knowing…”
Ranboo bobbed his head into Technoblade’s chest with a mrrp. The man’s chest vibrated with a chuckle.
“Come on,” Technoblade said, easing him off his lap. “Let’s get you fed. This new body of yours must be very hungry.”
Ranboo tried to follow as Technoblade stood, Technoblade’s hands guiding him upwards, but he hadn’t stood on two feet in a very long time.
“Woah,” Technoblade said, catching him under the arms as Ranboo’s stupid human legs gave out beneath him.
How was he supposed to balance on only two legs?
“You’re okay,” Technoblade said, propping him up and sliding his arm around his shoulders to steady him. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
The man was probably right, but when Ranboo found himself stumbling like a drunken fawn, he gave up, sliding back to the floor with a whine.
“Nah, nah.” There was a playfulness to Technoblade’s tone that Ranboo might have found annoying had he not been so stressed out.
Then, just as easily as he had when Ranboo was lighter than a sack of flour, Technoblade scooped him up off the ground. Ranboo yelped, his claws coming out to dig into Technoblade’s shirt— only, they weren’t claws. They were just stupid, dull human fingernails, digging into Technoblade as he clutched his shirt for dear life.
Technoblade chuckled and the feel of it rumbled from his chest to Ranboo’s. “I gotcha, kid.”
Ranboo stayed drawn and tense as Technoblade carried him out of the room and into the kitchen, clinging to Technoblade like he was afraid the man would drop him. (He never had when Ranboo was a cat, but things had changed now.)
Finally, he was set in a chair at the table. Even sitting, he had to find his balance, swaying slightly. He curled his legs up beneath him, finding the position much more comfortable.
“You’ll be back on your feet soon enough,” Technoblade said. “It’ll just take practice.”
Ranboo wasn’t so sure about that, but he didn’t have the chance to make his displeasure known before Technoblade was setting a plate in front of him.
Ranboo’s mouth watered. His teeth felt strange and blunt in his mouth, but he supposed they would be sufficient in tearing this meal to shreds.
Then Technoblade laid something else in front of him.
Ranboo stared at the silverware. It was pretty, he decided, the way the light caught it, but it wasn’t for him. He knew what it was, of course, but he couldn’t even walk. How was he meant to demonstrate the kind of fine motor skills required of him to use a fork and knife?
With too-large hands, he grabbed a fistful of lettuce and brought it to his mouth. Oh, this was much more efficient.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Technoblade grimace, but the man didn’t speak up. Ranboo continued eating happily until his plate was empty.
“Ranboo, I need to ask…” Technoblade looked oddly hesitant. “I know you can understand me, but… can you talk?”
Ranboo stilled.
Could he talk? He hadn’t tried in a long time. He wasn’t sure what he would even say.
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Oh. Oh no. He tried again and this time, a stranger’s wheeze came out. Panic was crawling up his throat. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.
He slammed his open hands down on the table, a distressed noise leaking out. He didn’t want this. He’d been fine as he was— he didn’t want this broken human body!
“Whoa! Whoa, easy, kiddo.”
Ranboo hissed as Technoblade approached, shrinking back as the man reached for him.
“It’s okay,” Technoblade said lowly. “You don’t have to talk.”
Ranboo whined, high and long in his throat.
“It’s okay,” Technoblade repeated, and this time, his knuckles slid gently over Ranboo’s cheek, caressing his tearstained skin.
Ranboo couldn’t help the way his eyes fluttered at the contact, some feline instinct in him pushing up into Technoblade’s touch.
“Deep breaths.”
Ranboo obeyed. It felt strange— his human lungs expanding like a foreign object inside of him— but Technoblade had instructed him to breathe, so he would do his best to listen.
Technoblade kept him like that— just breathing— his hand a comforting weight against Ranboo’s cheek, for a long time.
Finally, with his voice low enough to vibrate through his palm, he asked, “Do you want to move to the couch?”
Ranboo sniffed and nodded.
“Do you want to try walking?”
Ranboo whined his dissent, mustering up a glare at the man for even suggesting it.
“All right,” Technoblade said, amusement clear in his voice. “Come here, then.”
Ranboo was pliant as Technoblade lifted him back into his arms. His too-long limbs made it slightly awkward, but fortunately, Technoblade was large enough and strong enough that he had little trouble carrying Ranboo even as a human.
They settled on the couch. Ranboo tried to curl up in Technoblade’s lap, but that made it difficult for Technoblade to pet him like he wanted. So, with a pout, he shifted to lay beside the man, his head pillowed in Technoblade’s lap where Technoblade could run his hands through his hair and scratch at his scalp with ease.
“How long were you a cat, kiddo?”
Ranboo didn’t know how to answer that. He just let his eyes wander until Technoblade’s voice pulled him back into focus once more.
“More than a month?”
That, Ranboo could answer. He bobbed his head in a nod.
“More than a year?”
Ranboo nodded again before holding up three clumsy fingers. His gaze wandered away again, but he didn’t miss how Technoblade sighed and rubbed at his eyes in his peripheral vision.
“Three years?” The man sounded very stressed. That didn’t seem fair to Ranboo; if anyone was going to be stressed, it should be him.
Ranboo made a croaking noise of agreement.
“Was there— I mean—” Technoblade looked uncertain. His hand had gone still in Ranboo’s hair and Ranboo nudged it to get it moving again. Technoblade did, if a little belatedly. “Is there anyone looking for you?”
Ranboo didn’t think he quite understood the question. Was there anyone looking for him? Was there supposed to be?
He shook his head.
“No one?” Technoblade asked. “There was no one you were with before? A family maybe?”
Ranboo didn’t know how to explain that if there had been anyone before, he couldn’t remember them now. He couldn’t explain that his human life was something he’d left behind long ago. Even as he tried to think back now, all he found was a black hole.
He shook his head again and pointed at himself.
Technoblade sighed. “It was just you, huh?”
Ranboo nodded and leaned in to press his forehead firmly against Technoblade’s abdomen. When the man exhaled softly, Ranboo felt it in his bones.
“You can stay here.” Technoblade let out a quiet breath of laughter. “We’ll get you back on your feet soon enough. Literally and figuratively.” He sounded very amused with himself.
If Ranboo could remember how to roll his eyes, he would have. Instead, he huffed a short breath out of his nose and knocked his head into Technoblade’s chest.
“Yeah, yeah,” Technoblade said, ruffling his hair. “You don’t like my jokes, eh?”
Ranboo mrrp-ed, his nose scrunching up. His eyelids felt unbearably heavy and his jaw popped as he yawned.
Technoblade’s hand was large enough to practically cover his head as he slid it over Ranboo’s scalp. “Still tired?”
Ranboo blinked lazily, nosing at Technoblade’s shirt. His stupid human head felt like a boulder attached to his neck, so he didn’t fight it as sleep tugged it down to rest on Technoblade’s thigh.
He remembered nothing after that.
***
Ranboo had a nightmare.
In the dream, he was trapped. His body was someone else’s, all elongated and foreign. His too-big organs pressed at his insides, his massive heart pounding through his brittle chest.
It was nauseating. It was horrific. It wasn’t real.
He woke up gasping.
It took a long time to ground himself again. His inhales were strangely wet as he tried to breathe, but he didn’t pay it much mind as he stared up at the ceiling and tried to understand why it was so dark.
The mattress was soft beneath him. He could feel the weight of Technoblade’s hand draped over him, and the dip of the mattress where the man slept beside him. He must have wrangled his way into the bed again, he realized, though he remembered almost nothing of last night.
He went to roll over, to slip out from under Technoblade’s arm and stretch— a big stretch, one that would knock his whole body and soul back into alignment.
He ended up on his hands and knees on the mattress, his fingers flexing—
His hands.
His hands and knees.
His fingers.
Ranboo wasn’t sure how he went lightheaded so fast. It had to be some kind of record, he thought distantly, as all of the air was torn from his lungs. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but he knew he was clawing at himself, doing his best to tear himself from this monstrous form.
His sharp gasps turned to whines turned to gagging turned to wails. He was shaking— all static— twisting, whining, writhing—
“Ranboo!”
The mattress shifted behind him. Ranboo didn’t care. He kept clawing at himself, wailing as he raked his nails across his too-soft skin.
“Ranboo!”
Suddenly, he wasn’t just fighting himself. There were new hands on him, infinitely stronger, larger, more capable.
Technoblade wrestled him down, pinning his dull hands to the mattress even as Ranboo did his best to claw his eyes from his sockets.
Ranboo screamed, jerking his head to the side, his teeth bared. He snapped at him, but Technoblade didn’t give him a chance to sink his teeth into anything. In one smooth motion, he yanked Ranboo’s wrists up, secured them in one hand above his head, and caught his jaw with the other.
Ranboo whined, hissing as Technoblade pressed his head gently but firmly to the mattress.
“Settle down,” Technoblade ground out. “I know you’re upset—”
Ranboo snapped his teeth at him, but he didn’t get very far the way he was pinned.
“But I can’t let you hurt yourself.”
Ranboo was crying. He didn’t know when he started, but it must have been some time ago because he could feel where his tears had soaked thoroughly into the mattress.
“Sh,” Technoblade said, low and insistent. Ranboo whined and jerked, but Technoblade just hushed him again. “Sh. You’re okay, Ranboo.”
That wasn’t true. How could that be true? He was trapped in this body. At least when he was a cat, there was a chance someone would take pity on him. But in this monstrous, human form, no one would ever want him again.
Ranboo didn’t know how much time passed before his body gave out on him, but at some point, he found himself going limp. His chest heaved, his mouth opening and closing with frightened whines, but he’d stopped fighting. He didn’t have the strength anymore.
“Are you gonna try and hurt yourself again?”
Ranboo’s throat seized with a sob. He shook his head tiredly.
Technoblade sounded beyond exhausted as he said, “I’m going to let you up now.”
Ranboo sniffed and nodded.
True to his word, Technoblade released Ranboo’s wrists and let him up. Ranboo didn’t hesitate, crawling straight into Technoblade’s lap and burying his face in his neck.
Ranboo didn’t know he was capable of this kind of crying. His whole body ached with the force of it, wet sobs being torn from his lips as his chest heaved with despair.
“Sh,” Technoblade said, over and over again. His arms were gentle around Ranboo, his hand large and warm as he rubbed slow circles on his back. “I’ve got you.”
Ranboo cried himself back to sleep.
***
The next morning went a little better.
Technoblade still watched with a wince as Ranboo shoveled food into his mouth, but the creeping horror from last night had not settled so insistently into Ranboo’s new bones.
The morning after that went even better. Time passed strangely in the following days. Ranboo had grown so used to tracking time by the moon and his own hunger, he felt like he was learning a foreign language trying to understand the way humans split up their days.
From sleeping to walking to eating— Ranboo found it was all a learning curve.
For the first few days, he slept and ate a lot. Technoblade told him his body was still catching up to the sudden growth and it was trying to make up for it by resting and refueling as often as possible.
Ranboo could tell the man was still on edge after that first night terror. He never really took his eyes off of him and his face was shadowed by concern more often than not.
But Ranboo knew it wasn’t unfounded.
That night terror was hardly the last he had, but the number of panic-induced self-harm attempts had decreased drastically. It helped that Ranboo couldn’t sleep more than three feet from Technoblade.
In this new body, he found he didn’t feel safe dozing off without some form of protection nearby he recognized. This resulted in him curling up next to Technoblade more often than not, pressed against his thigh while the man sat and read, or curled up tight on top of his covers until the man pulled him down under. Technoblade got used to it too, his hand finding Ranboo’s hair as easily as it did when he was a cat. He would pet him absently, lulling Ranboo to sleep in a way no one else could.
Talking was still a challenge.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak. He tried. But it came out all harsh and breathy, his throat and vocal cords raw from disuse. Not to mention, it hurt trying to talk. The best he could do was hiss and whine, noises he was already familiar with making as a cat.
He could hardly manage his fingers well enough to pick up a fork. How was he supposed to garner the motor skills required to speak?
He would be content to never try and speak again if it weren’t for the pressure that came from living with another person. Technoblade didn’t pressure him, of course, but Ranboo could see the frustration on his face when Ranboo failed to communicate beyond his most basic needs.
Their one saving grace was sign language. By some miracle, Technoblade had picked up enough signs over the years that he could teach Ranboo. It was slow-going— Ranboo’s fine motor skills weren’t exactly up to par yet— but they would sit together everyday, Technoblade going over each sign patiently. Sometimes, he struggled enough that Technoblade would pull him into his lap, his back to the man’s chest, and guide Ranboo’s fingers into the signs himself. Even when he struggled to remember even the most basic signs and frustration built up in his chest, Ranboo found he didn’t hate these sessions. If it meant he could press close to Technoblade and have his full undivided attention for a little while, he was happy to study this difficult language for the rest of his life.
Now though, he was glad for it because he had something to say.
He was resting as he often did, curled up on his back on the couch, his head pillowed in Technoblade’s lap as the man played with his hair idly.
I’m sorry. The sign was one of the easiest for Ranboo to remember— a curled fist rubbing a little circle in the center of his chest.
Technoblade blinked down at him, his head tilted slightly in confusion. (The look made Ranboo want to giggle. Sometimes, Technoblade acted more like a cat than Ranboo did.)
“What are you sorry for?” He sounded genuinely perplexed. So, with his limited number of signs, Ranboo did his best to explain.
I can’t talk. I’m sorry.
Technoblade’s eyes crinkled even further. “I don’t mind that you don’t talk. Did I give you the impression that I did?”
Ranboo shook his head, scrunching up his face in concentration as he tried to explain further. I’m supposed to. But I can’t.
Understanding dawned on Technoblade’s face, but to Ranboo’s surprise, his expression only grew softer.
“If you want to try to talk again someday, that’s up to you. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t ever have to talk if you don’t want to.” Technoblade’s hand was gentle in his hair, his lap warm beneath Ranboo’s head.
A rush of warmth filled Ranboo’s chest, gratitude spilling out of him like a waterfall.
Ranboo hummed, taking Technoblade’s large hand in his own clumsy fingers and guiding it to press against the hollow of his throat. The vibration was small, but it carried from his vocal chords to Technoblade’s hand.
It was the closest Ranboo could get to a purr these days, but he was determined to show his contentment.
Technoblade’s lips curled in a fond smile. “I know, kid.” He kept his hand there, the pressure non-existent as he gently stroked over the humming hollow of Ranboo’s throat. Ranboo tilted his head back, nuzzling his cheek into Technoblade’s thigh.
For a long while, he dozed there. At some point, Technoblade shifted beneath him, as if making to move. Ranboo whined at the sudden shift, but didn’t open his eyes. He was rewarded a moment later when large hands slid beneath his frame and lifted him easily into the air. He snuggled against Technoblade’s chest, curling up as the man carried him to the bedroom.
Against all odds, Ranboo found comfort here. Even in this form— one that felt as foreign to him as speech— he found traces of his old self.
It wasn’t seamless of course, but that didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.
Every so often, Ranboo would still— forgetting that he wasn’t as small and agile as he used to be— attempt to climb Technoblade like a jungle gym. Fortunately, the man was sturdier than most; he could handle a grappling teenager clambering up onto his back and shoulders. In fact, it became something of a game for them, one that usually ended with Technoblade prying Ranboo off and tossing him gently onto the bed. Ranboo would land with a bounce, breaking out in hoarse giggles as he attempted to right himself.
But of course, this body still came with surprises.
Ranboo was in his usual place on the couch when the tickle in his nose appeared.
He tensed. He tried to scrunch his face up in an effort to quell it, but it had already reached up into his sinuses.
Achoo!
He lost his balance, his body thudding onto the rug as he toppled off the couch.
“Ranboo!”
Ranboo blinked, sitting up slowly. His nose was twitching.
Technoblade looked halfway between alarm and amusement as he examined Ranboo for distress. “Was that a sneeze?”
Ranboo flushed and looked away staunchly.
Technoblade did laugh then, a rare smile wide on his lips. “What the hell? You got scared by your own sneeze.”
Ranboo scowled and with an unhappy noise, he crawled back up onto the couch. He planted himself in Technoblade’s lap and covered the man’s mouth with his hands, glaring at Technoblade as he shook with laughter.
“All right, all right,” Technoblade said, prying Ranboo’s hands away from his mouth with ease. He was still grinning, his smile lopsided. “I’ll stop making fun.”
Ranboo wasn’t so sure about that, especially considering the twinkle of amusement in Technoblade’s eyes, but he supposed that would have to do for now.
He still felt ruffled, the sneeze having caught him entirely off guard. If he were still a cat, he was certain his hair would be standing on end. As it was, he wasn’t convinced his head of hair wasn’t sticking straight up.
“Gods, I love you.” The words were said so easily, Ranboo very nearly passed them off as a trick of his ears. But he’d watched Technoblade’s mouth form the declaration, felt his chest vibrate as he spoke.
For a moment, Ranboo just stared at him, wide-eyed.
Then, with clumsy hands, he formed the signs Technoblade had taught him on the very first day of their studies. Signs he’d never thought he’d have cause to use.
I love you too.
The delighted surprise on Technoblade’s expression was overwhelming. Ranboo— suddenly embarrassed— ducked his head to thud his forehead against the man’s sternum.
Technoblade laughed and the sound reverberated from his body to Ranboo’s. His arms were warm where they encircled Ranboo, like Ranboo was stretched out in a sunbeam. His heart pounded out a rhythm Ranboo recognized. It beat home, home, home.