Schlatt had always been a bit of a mess. He went to messy parties with even messier people. Specifically the group he filmed videos with, the self-appointed ‘Lunch-Club.’ He didn’t mind being a mess, not knowing what he did the night before, waking up in someone else’s room, he never really cared.

So here he is for what feels like the hundredth time, drunk and strung across his friend Charlie’s weird tree pillow. Laughing harder than he should at another one of Charlie’s bad puns.

They’re playing a game of jackbox and Schlatt can no longer keep the words in focus long enough to read. He ends up just typing in something random and lying down.

His turn comes around and everyone shoots him a concerned look when they see his submission. Ted nudges his shoulder.

“Schlatt what the hell does SRHBF even mean?”

“Figure it out Ted, I shouldn’t have to give you all the answers.” He pauses to think and everyone stifles a laugh but waits patiently to hear what else Schlatt is gonna say. “You’re smart, not smarter than me… but smart.”

“Smart enough to know Stal is a good music disc.”

“You take that back.” He goes to get up, his hand sliding across the floor. It’s harder to stand than it should be.

“Or what?” Ted gets up and crosses his arms, standing over Schlatt who’s still kneeling on the floor.

“I-I’ll fight you.” He reaches his arm out to try and push himself off the floor and sighs when he can’t do it. “Later. Is it always hard to stand? How are you doing it so easy? Is it the glass?” He reaches his hand up and grabs Ted’s glasses.

Charlie gets up off the couch next and takes Ted’s glasses from Schlatt. “Alright grandpa let’s get you to bed.”

Charlie helps Schlatt stand up and Ted puts his glasses back on and grabs his other arm.

“I’m not that old, I can-” He jerks his arm out of Charlie’s grasp. “I can walk.”

The shorter throws up his arms in mock defense and rolls his eyes, but stays close incase Schlatt does fall.

He manages to stay upright the whole two block walk to his apartment. Though he leans heavily on Ted.
He’s laughing at the way his breath clouds in the cold but stops when they start dragging him up the stairs. Schlatt hates living on the fourth story.

He loses his grip on the rail. “Charlie, Charles slow down I can’t- oh fuck.” He falls up the stairs.

Charlie realizes Schlatt is no longer behind him and hurries back to him, Ted just laughs from the top of the staircase. Doubled over while Schlatt glares at him.

“I hope you remember all this in the morning.”

He gets up with the help of Charlie and the rail before stumbling past Ted to shakily grab his keys out of his pocket to unlock the apartment door. Practically falling against it as it swung open.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, happy to finally be home. Smiling, he turns to the pair. “Same thing tomorrow night? I’ll bring… something, probably.”

“You won’t ever want to do that again when you feel the migraine from it tomorrow.” Ted laughs.

“Bull. Shit.”

Ted closes his door for him and Charlie hurriedly tells him to “Put a painkiller and some water by your bed! Sober you will be grateful!”

His friends can be a lot, but sometimes they give good advice. It’s usually a good idea to take Charlie’s advice, so he opens the cabinet for a cup.

He opens the fridge and pulls out the container of filtered water and, with minimal spill, pours himself a glass.

He wants to turn off the kitchen lights but with the way the wall was moving he wasn’t sure he should bother. Instead just opting to go to bed, throwing his jeans and shirt on the floor and practically falling on the twin bed he had stowed in the corner.

He finally gets comfortable when his phone rings from his jean pocket on the floor. Assuming it's just a spam call or Quackity wanting to do a late night stream, he leaves it to ring.

The problem is once the ringing finally stops, it starts again. Whoever this was must really need him.

So he gets up reluctantly and uncovers his phone from the pile on the floor. Answering it without even checking the ID. Which is never a good decision. “Mm’ hello?”

“Hi, this is the department of social services calling. Is this Mr. J. Schlatt?”

“Yeah that’s- uh me.” He drags his hand down his face in embarrassment. He really wasn’t in a good place to have a professional call right now.

“I’m sorry to call this late but we have custody of your toddler son, Toby Smith.”

“You got the wrong number, I don’t have any kids.” He sits on the edge of his bed, feeling nauseous.

“It’s your name in his files, and this is the number the mother gave us for you. I’m sorry if this is a bit of a shock but we need you to make a decision. Tubbo’s mother, Amy Smith can no longer maintain custody of the child due to severe negligence.”

He hasn’t heard from Amy in years. Not since they woke up in the same bed. Schlatt mumbles out a quick, “Hold on.” before going to vomit everything that could have possibly been in his stomach. Thankful the phone had a mute button.

He’s coughing and wiping his mouth with a washcloth when he unmutes himself. Choosing to stay on the cold bathroom floor for the rest of the phone call. And maybe the night. “I- I yeah we- he’s my kid. I just didn’t know he was… born?”

“Then this is probably quite a shock to you.”

“Probably?”

“Let me tell you your options; we can put him in the system, until someone can adopt him. Or I can come over and we can discuss you getting custody. Neither of these choices make you a bad parent, and you don’t have to decide right now-”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding? I’m his, he’s my boy. I want custody, just tell me what I need to do.” He feels rude for interrupting her, since she sounds so nice over the phone.

“Sir, a toddler is a lot to take on. Not to mention he’s going to need even more care to help him recover from two years in a bad home. You should consider taking a day to think it over.”

“He’s my kid, just tell me what to do or sign. Please.” The back of his head collides with the wall and he closes his eyes. He has to at least try.

“I’ll come over in two days for a house inspection then. I’d advise you get supplies and start baby proofing the house till then. And don’t worry, most people in your situation do end up with custody”

“I can do that. Thanks.”

He can hear sniffling in the background, the lady’s voice getting further away as she shushes what Schlatt can only assume is Toby gently.
“I’ll send you a text confirming everything in the morning. Get some rest while you can, toddlers won’t let you.”

He laughs weakly, trying not to throw up again as he hangs up the phone and goes through his contacts to call Quackity. Though the younger played a loud and chaotic persona, he gave surprisingly good advice. And that’s what Schlatt needed right now.

Thankfully he isn’t streaming when he answers, as Schlatt doesn’t need the whole world knowing he has a kid when he hasn’t had time to process it himself.

“What type of shit do babies need?”

There’s a pause on the other side of the line, Schlatt holds the phone far away from him and waits.

“WHAT?” Quackity shouts, his voice breaking up through the phone.

“Apparently I’m a fuckin’ dad now, what type of shit do babies need?” He knows he should elaborate more but he's exhausted at this point.

“It’s way too late for this. I’ll be there in the morning, and you better explain yourself, Schlatt.”

“Let yourself in, keys are under the mat.”

“Spare no detail, I gotta know exactly how big Schlatt has a little kid.”

With that Schlatt laughs and hangs up without saying goodbye. Quackity never cared if he hung up abruptly.

He passes out on the bathroom floor, not even bothering to turn off the light.