Any Other Situation - EzzieTheAnxiousQueer (2024)

Chapter 1: Everyone's a Hero (Painted in The Proper Light)

Chapter Text

“Theseus! Give yourself up, you’re surrounded!” The man bellowed, silhouetted against the sky, vomit green cape fluttering obnoxiously in the cool evening wind.

Tommy, standing on the opposite rooftop, snorted disdainfully. Heroes were always so f*cking pretentious . He was ‘surrounded’ apparently. Yeah, sure. It was only Dolos and his timid sidekick. Granted, they were annoying, and Tommy would really rather not get involved in Dolos if he could avoid the man, but he was easy enough to get away from when it came down to it.

Named aptly after the god of trickery and deception, Dolos’ power was the irritating ability to create illusions. On top of that, the guy had super speed. And he was a bitch.

Really, that was at least 3 strikes.

He was an absolute nightmare, quite contrary to the media’s affectionate nickname for his team. ‘The Dream Team’, consisting of Dolos and two of his closest co-workers, Hypnos and Hybris. The nickname was, in Tommy’s humble opinion, quite possibly the furthest from accurate he’d ever heard, but the rose-tinted glasses that the public had were a bitch.

Ignoring all that, the little mirages were easy enough to get rid of with his simply amazing (if he said so himself) upgraded glasses. They could still be a bit of a pain, and the man wasn’t the number two hero for nothing, but Dolos seemed tired today, which Tommy found to be a relief. He really didn’t have the energy to deal with the hero's bullsh*t tonight. Or ever, really, but some things were unavoidable.

Checking the built-in tracker map, it was clear there were only two heroes in the surrounding quarter-mile, and they were both standing in front of him. Dolos, still grinning smugly, and his almost invisible sidekick, Aether. That wouldn’t be an issue, as long as Aether didn’t try any of their stupid teleport-y sh*t. They probably wouldn’t, the poor sod seemed terrified to move, let alone try and attack him.

As he was thinking, Tommy had been slowly edging towards the side of the building. He peered over the side, wincing. It wasn’t really too bad. Only about… what, five floors? Yeahhhh he’d be fine! Probably. Well, maybe not. It wasn’t a gamble he was really willing to take.

Dolos moved forwards, his stupid grinning mask almost luminescent in the dark, evidently taking the momentary silence as surrender. He spoke again, a smile as obnoxious as the one plastered across his mask evident in his voice. “There's nowhere for you to go Theseus. Face it! You’re cornered, and I’ve already called in the other heroes.”

Tommy wanted to slap him. That wasn’t an unusual feeling, so instead he just backed impossibly closer to the edge and scoffed, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause that's worked so well for you before hasn’t it? Isn’t it getting a bit boring now? You know you’re not gonna catch me, might as well just leave me be, innit?” He snorted, rolling his eyes and spreading his arms theatrically. There was movement in the corner of his vision, and he whipped his gaze around to where Aether was once again frozen under his gaze.

The kid – as they couldn’t be much more than that – was tall, standing well over 8ft. Still, he figured they couldn’t be much older than Tommy himself, baby fat still clinging to their unmasked face.

That in and of itself was worrying, since technically – legally – people couldn’t even start hero training until eighteen, and not until twenty-one was someone properly allowed out on the field. The only exception was Deimos, who was, as far as Tommy knew, around nineteen. But even he’d only started at around seventeen, and that was because he was, apparently, exceptionally overpowered. In all his three years of vigilante-ing, Tommy had – thankfully – never had a ‘proper’ run-in with the hero. The few times he’d come across him, Deimos had just… allowed him to go about his day. Which, yes, was a bit illegal. But Tommy wasn’t going to start complaining.

Still, Deimos was the exception. No one, no one under eighteen was supposed to even be enrolled in hero training, and there was no way in hell this lanky teen was more than sixteen. If, by some wild chance, they were sixteen, that didn’t exactly make things much better, as Tommy could still say with full confidence that they were nowhere even close to eighteen or twenty-one.

They were still shifting somewhere behind Tommy, who had turned his attention back to Dolos after clearly deciding the split-haired teen was less of a risk, and was moving from foot to foot but posing no threat as of yet. If anything they seemed to be trying to melt into the wall, and jumped violently when Dolos called their name.

“Aether! Handcuff him! If you let him get away now I swear to-” And that was about the time Tommy stopped paying attention, as a new flashing dot appeared on the map. It was pretty far out, but getting closer. And checking the name it was- Hypnos. No issue, no physical enhancements so… he’d probably arrive in just about 6 minutes. Plenty of time! He just needed to figure out how to get off the roof without breaking any limbs or revealing any secrets. Simple enough.

Probably.

Well, maybe a little harder given how his hollow bird bones were very prone to snapping. Mind racing, Tommy tried to formulate a plan to get away.

Glancing over the edge it was clear there was no conveniently placed body of water or bin that had magically appeared during the confrontation, so jumping was out. Dolos seemed to choose that moment to run out of patience, and darted forward in an attempt to grab Tommy by the sleeve. With no time left to think, the decision was made. It was a stupid decision, but a decision nonetheless.

Tommy leapt backwards off the roof, twisting in the air and stretching his arms as he fell.

And fell.

And fell.

And… flew, as a pair of heavily bandaged wings sprouted from his back, ripping through the jacket and extending outwards. The wings were small, no more than his arm span, but still somehow able to support his weight well enough to fly. Tommy was well aware that it didn't make any anatomical sense, but it worked so he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

Right now, and for almost as long as he could remember, they were covered in grime and loose bandages, but somewhere beneath all the dirt they were a deep bloody crimson, fading into a midnight black at the tips with flicks of gold all along them. At one point they might even have been called beautiful. But those days were long gone, if they’d ever even existed. He swooped down, spiralling between buildings and whooping loudly as wind rushed past him, whispering encouragement in his ear.

Tommy touched down in a tight alleyway nearly five minutes walk from the roof and began rebandaging his wings. He tucked them back against him and groaned in pain and irritation. He’d really liked that jacket, and now it was not only ripped but also splattered with blood. And on top of all that, he’d been forced to reveal one of his biggest secrets to bloody Dolos of all people! No one was supposed to be aware that his wings existed, and now the number two hero knew about them. Still, Tommy couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of relief. It was good to get his wings out every now and then, the excruciating pain was proof enough that he needed to do that more.

And besides, it's not like anyone else saw. There were no cameras in the worse parts of town, as there was nothing valuable enough to be worth protecting, and anyway, his wings were so dirty it would be a miracle if Dolos could even discern which colour they were. So it was really fine. There were loads of people with wings! Hell, Tommy had even met a decent number in his life. There's no way they’d be able to identify him from those alone, it was all fine. Probably. f*ck, he should’ve just gone home after that last mugging he’d resolved.

His glasses beeped, a notification spreading across them. sh*t, it was just past one am. He really needed to get home now if he wanted even a couple good hours of sleep before work. Quickly, he crouched down behind a dumpster and changed into civilian clothes before he began the boring but thankfully short walk home.

The crappy apartment came into view soon enough, and Tommy breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the building and made his way up the stairs. Sure, it was a bit of a sh*thole, but it was the place he’d considered home for almost… 3 years, at this point. And yeah maybe it was a little bit shady that the landlord had been willing to rent to a kid clearly no older than 13, no matter what he had insisted at the time, but hey. Everyone has to make money somehow and he wasn’t one to judge as long as it didn’t come at the harm of others.

At any rate, he wasn’t complaining as he let himself into the apartment. The lights were all off, and Tommy didn’t bother to turn any on before he flopped down onto the bed with a grimace. Sleep would not come easy, he knew that, not after the adrenaline rush he’d just experienced. Rolling over onto his back, Tommy sighed and stared at the off-white ceiling as he ran a hand down his face.

He was really pissed off about the wings. Almost over two and a half years of hiding them, just for them to be revealed because of a few stupid decisions. He knew that realistically nothing bad would come of it, there were thousands of avians in The SMP, and a good few hundred in Lower Pogtopia alone. Hell, he even knew a couple himself! It was fine. He was going to be fine.

Should we tell him?

HEY no spoilers!

aww but-

PogChamp

Message deleted by moderator

Shush he needs sleep

you shush

bitch

OI NO BEING MEAN TO CLEM

YEAHHH

ModPats

Tommy groaned, smushing his face into the pillow as he mumbled groggily. “Shut the f*ck up you lot, I’m tryin’ to sleep and it’s hard enough without you dumbasses blastin’ my ear off the whole night.” He tried to tune out the voices, twisting under the covers with a sigh. They always got over excited whenever something even mildly interesting happened.

The phone he’d left on the shabby little side table vibrated loudly and he grinned as the familiar message tone rang out, knowing he wouldn’t be the only one who was dead on his feet for work that morning. It took a few minutes for the phone to eventually go quiet, and Tommy rolled over to face the wall, revelling in the silence. While sleep would inevitably evade him, he may as well try.

So, sighing, he pulled the blanket up over him and closed his eyes, groaning quietly as he did so. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 2: Boys Will be Bugs

Chapter Text

It seemed like mere minutes later that Tommy was rudely awoken, his alarm blaring out some song he still didn’t know the name of, and he groaned loudly as he pulled himself into a sitting position. It was 6:30, far too early for anyone sane in his opinion, but he needed to be out of the house by 7 if he wanted to make it onto the train in time for his 9am shift start. The clothes he’d fallen asleep in were fine, so that saved him a few minutes.

Food was next priority, and Tommy shuffled sleepily to the kitchen, yawning as he went. He plonked down into a chair and poured himself some much-needed cereal, quickly calculating how much longer he could make this one box of stale cheerios last. It had already gotten him through nearly a fortnight, but the supply was dwindling. He’d add that to his grocery list, grab some when he finally got round to getting a replacement light bulb. Was it even a grocery list if it had a lightbulb on? Did lightbulbs count as groceries? They could still be bought from the same dollar store as the rest of their food, so probably. What even was the definition of groceries? Just food? What about things like cigarettes or alcohol? Would they count? Because they weren’t really fo-

Dragged from his thoughts by the alarm, Tommy jumped up as he realised he’d been zoning out for far too long. He grabbed the phone and swore loudly at the numbers displayed, snatching his ratty trainers up from where they were discarded by the door. It was only 7:03, he’d be fine if he just ran a little. Booking it out the door, he almost sprinted to the station, leaping onto the end carriage just as it began pulling away. He practically fell into the nearest available seat and panted heavily, giving an apologetic glance to the lady sat beside him. She smiled at him kindly before turning back to her paper.

The journey began as unmemorably as ever, and it was only after about an hour that Tommy actually noticed what the woman was reading. She turned the page, humming slightly as she had for the last hour, and Tommy’s eyes were immediately drawn to his name, written brazenly at the top of the article. Well, not his name, obviously. His other name. His vigilante name. Well- in the eyes of the law, his villain name. But still.

Theseus.

Stupid choice honestly, he never should’ve complied with the theme. Granted, if he hadn’t, then the heroes would probably have given him something similar anyway. They seemed to have a thing for Greek mythology-related names. In his case, Tommy had gotten there before them. But that was besides the point. That meant something he’d done was in the paper, which was never good.

He couldn’t just get revenge on murderous child traffickers and pay rent in peace, could he? Noo, the stupid bloody heroes had to keep messing it up. Reading through the article, it became clear this time the explosion wasn’t even really his fault.

Sure, maybe he’d been there, and sure maybe he might’ve kind of started the fire, but it wasn’t exactly his fault the trafficking ring was right beside a packed apartment. No civilians had even died, Tommy had made sure the buildings were all empty save for the bastards running the ring. Honestly, it was one of the best and cleanest busts in a while. And maybe the apartment block did get a little… charred. At any rate, it’s not like the heroes did jacksh*t to help, but nope. Theseus was the bad guy. Of course.

Haha loser

Theseus LLLLL

tmmyAngry

Oi it’s not his fault the heroes are sh*t D:

Yeah!

YEAHHHHH

don’t be mean to our boi >:(

puss*

Well, T would’ve been proud

mhm

o7

Pepehands

Tommy ran a hand down his face, and probably would’ve told the voices to shut up if not for the fact that he was currently on public transport, and already garnering more odd and disdainful looks than he was quite used to.

The pink-haired woman beside him scoffed and rolled her eyes, muttering. He eyed her, half expecting a rant about how irresponsible villains were. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened on a train. The woman- or girl maybe, since she couldn’t be much older than 18, looked up, a small frown creasing her face. He noticed she looked almost kind, rare to see in the poorer parts of town, with round, wire-framed glasses in front of bluish-grey eyes. As the girl turned the paper slightly, folding a corner, her eyes met Tommy’s and she smiled dryly when she noticed him scanning the page.

Scoffing humorlessly, she rolled up the paper and stuffed it down into her bag. “Are you a fan of heroes?” She looked at Tommy, eyes piercing into him. “I hate them myself. Useless bastards.” she muttered, still smiling softly at the younger teenager despite her harsh words. He chuckled in spite of himself, and shook his head with a strained smile. “No, can't stand ‘em. Don’t mind vigilantes though, they’re alright.” Tommy spoke with a forced nonchalance to his words, eyeing the lady warily in case she was about to do a full 180 and call him a danger to society or something. She just laughed softly again before speaking.

“Well. I think they’re pretty neat. I think Tyche is my favourite, she’s awesome. I don’t mind some of the villains either, they’re better than the media lets on.”

YEAHHH

Ṋ̶̣͙͑İ̷̮̳̦̅K̴̫͚̪̲̘̬̾̈̍̌Ḭ̵̢̘̞̩͕̈́͋́͌̔͂ FOR THE WINN

Hey no spoils, remember?

oh come onnn he’ll find out who she is in like five minutes

Shush

f*ck you, bitchboy

Message was deleted by moderator

haha LLLL

Tommy refocused on the lady, watching as she gestured to her bag and continued. “For instance, I think Theseus is one of the good ones, although I’m not sure why they even named him a villain, he’d fit better into the vigilante category. Still, I much prefer him to any of the heroes. I do think Aether, you know the kid sidekick of Dolos, is at least trying though. Honestly, he looks far too young to be a hero.” She finished, and looked at Tommy expectantly. After a pregnant pause, the younger did start speaking. “...Yeah. Theseus is pretty good. I’ve m- I’ve heard of Tyche before, never seen her though. Same with Aether, but I f*cking hate Dolos. You spoke like you’d met some of them?”

The lady laughed and simply stuck her hand out as the train screeched to a halt, eyes twinkling knowingly. “Well, it was good to talk. I’m Niki. It was nice meeting you, but this is my stop.”

f*cking told you

bitch

Stfu this is interesting

Taking her hand, Tommy smiled and shifted in his seat. “Tommy, and you too. Have a good day.”

He watched as she left the train, doors closing before he thought to look down. There, on the floor beneath where Niki had been sat, was her bag. Cursing under his breath, Tommy picked it up gingerly. It was surprisingly heavy, and examining the handle revealed a tag with writing scrawled across it. Tommy cursed again, silently thanking Eret and Tubbo for forcing him to learn how to read. He mumbled as he read, the looping handwriting even harder to decipher than usual, tracing the words with one hand and clutching the bag tightly with the other. “If… if lost, ple…ease call ###########”

He looked up, trying to spot her through the train window, but she seemed to have vanished completely, not even a hint of her pastel hair to be seen. Tommy looked down at the bag again, seeming to have some kind of internal debate with himself, before he stood up and walked towards the door. He was still a stop away, but the next train wouldn’t take long. And Eret wouldn’t mind if he was a couple minutes late anyway. Just as he reached to press the door open, the train drew away from the station. Tommy stumbled and swore, wobbling where he stood, which attracted a new wave of dirty looks from the other passengers. He made his way back to his seat and rested his head in his hands. Knowing his luck, she’d probably think he’d intentionally stolen it or something. Great, just f*cking perfect.

Nahhh Niki’s chill

I mean yeah she’s-

Message was deleted by moderator

aww c’mon Clem :(

Hey you know the rules, no spoilers

Unsurprisingly, the voices did little to lull his anxiety, and Tommy grabbed his phone just as the train pulled into the station. He was about to dial the string of numbers when the train jolted once again to a halt, indicating Tommy’s stop. He grabbed the bag and hurried off, almost sprinting out the underground. Shoving his hand into his pocket and squinting in the brightness, he walked briskly in the direction of the cafe. It wasn’t a long walk from the station, and one glance at the phone showed it was 8:37. Perfect. 20 minute walk, a bit faster if he could, and he’d get to the cafe with a few minutes to spare. More than enough time to talk to Tubbo and call the Niki lady.

-0-

The cafe eventually came into view, and Tommy paused outside. He sat down on one of the chairs and punched the phone number in the bag into his phone. It rang four times, and he prayed the girl's phone hadn’t been in her bag. He couldn’t hear it ringing though, so that was a good sign. It wasn’t until the 6th ring she picked up, sounding slightly out of breath. “Yeah? If you’re trying to sell something, sorry but I’m not buying.” Tommy fumbled for a minute, mind blanking. He hadn’t exactly expected her to pick up, and now he actually had to say something. “Uhh… Niki, yeah? You- You left your bag on the train, and it said to call this number. I swear I didn’t steal it, it’s just if I’d left it someone else would’ve. I promise I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh thank gods, Tommy right? You have my bag? That’s brilliant, thank you so much. Is there somewhere I can pick it up?”

“Um- Yes, actually, do you know where FCR cafe is? Where Snowzone used to be, near… Near Mellohi Mall?” He glanced towards the shopfront, where the lights were already on but the sign still showed closed. Hopefully that meant Tubbo was in already.

Niki’s voice came through his phone, sighing in relief “Yes! Yes, I know where that is. It’s… A few districts away, do you mind if I pop in to grab it at the end of the day? Maybe around half 6?” Tommy nodded quickly before remembering she couldn’t see him, and spoke “That should work yeah. I might have to leave though, so I’ll leave the bag with Eret. If I’m not here just ask them.” He hummed idly and paced outside the shop, frowning when he heard a choked sound from Niki’s end. “Niki? You okay?”

“Sorry, yes. You know Eret? You’re the Tommy she’s always talking about? Loud kid that’s worked for them for… 3 years?” Her disbelief was almost audible, and Tommy snorted amusedly. “Yep, sounds ‘bout right. Listen, I gotta go clock in now. See you later, yeah?”

She made a noise of ascent before Tommy hung up, and shoved the phone into his pocket before he turned to the cafe entrance. The bell rang as he hummed idly and pushed open the door, before being immediately accosted with sound as a teenager vaulted over the counter with a shout. The short brunette hurtled forward and threw himself into Tommy’s arms with a joyous cheer. “Tom!”

Tommy chuckled quietly and wrapped his arms tightly around his friend, patting him on the head. Tubbo ducked out from the hug with a disgruntled bleat, and stood grinning in front of his friend. Tommy, with a slightly confused expression, matched the grin right back. “Christ Tubs, we saw each other on… f*ckin Tuesday! Clingy bastard.” Tubbo just shoved him lightly and pouted. He couldn’t keep a straight face, however, and quickly broke into giggles.

awww

Clingy

clingyduo/pos

*holds gently*

If anything happens to them I will kill the world and then myself

uhhhh- about that

SHUT

Tommy absently patted him on the head, ignoring both the torrent of voices and the hurricane of curses thrown his way, and glanced around the shop. It was small, cosy and warm. There were plant baskets hanging from the ceiling over the tables, seemingly more alive than they had been five minutes ago, and some paintings hanging on the walls. None of the tables were currently occupied, but one was scattered with Tubbo’s belongings. Tommy shook his head, fond but exasperated. “Tub, you’re gonna need to clean this sh*t up before we open, dumbass.”

Tubbo just groaned dramatically and flopped into one of the empty chairs. Tommy pulled out the chair beside him and sat down. The pair sat in comfortable silence for a moment, before Tommy spoke up. “So… where's Eret?” Tubbo shot upright almost instantly, cursing and grabbing Tommy by the arm, dragging him towards the kitchen. He grabbed the keys from the counter as he pulled the blonde boy through the door, already talking to the person inside. “Oh sh*t sorry! Sorry, I forgot! Tommy came in and I completely forgot to grab the keys, here.” He tossed the keys to Eret, who caught them and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “It's fine Tubbo, just go grab the biscuits out of the oven before they burn.” They called to where the ram-boy was already disappearing round the corner.

ERET

GenderfluidPride

WEEEE ERET POGGG

YESSSS ERETE RET ERET

GenderfluidPride

we all bow to queen Eret

ERET POGGERS

She turned back to where Tommy was standing, slouched against the doorframe. Eret gave him a tired smile and clapped xeir hands. “Tommy! It's so nice to have you back!” She smiled when the teenager laughed and shook his head. “I was literally gone for a day, there is no chance you missed my chaos that much.”

The pair chuckled and Eret leant towards him, stage whispering. “Yes but imagine having to deal with Tubbo’s chaos alone for an entire day!” Tommy held a hand to his chest in mock sympathy. “Oh how awful! Alone! With Tubbo! For a whole day!” They both dissolved into laughter as an indignant shout came from where the brunette was. It was quickly followed by a loud crash and cursing, before a slightly out of breath “Got it!” From the oven corner.

Eret pulled himself upright, leaning on the counter for support and slowly composing herself. “Okay Tom, both Toby and I are gonna be in the back for most of today so business as usual. If you just work behind the counter and send any orders back it should all be fine. And if anyone tries to give you trouble just shout, okay?” Tommy nodded, practically able to recite the speech back to them.

He’d been given almost the exact same one every day since he started work there over 3 years ago. It had been much harder then, what with the fact he was entirely unable to write, not even spell his own name. Eret had been the only person willing to hire a gangly, scrawny, illiterate, very-obviously-not-15-year-old child claiming to be 15. Tommy was forever indebted to him for that, as without xeir help he would no doubt be dead in a ditch somewhere. He kinda saw her as a pseudo-parent of sorts, which was probably not the best attachment to form to your boss, but it is what it is.

He walked out front and switched the door sign from closed to open, before standing behind the counter. It didn’t take long for customers to arrive, and the hours passed in a blur of orders and names.

It was their lunch break. Or maybe early afternoon break would be a better descriptor, as it was a little past 3pm. Tommy sat on a counter in the kitchen, their legs swinging against the cupboard. Tubbo was sprawled on the floor next to them, munching on a cheese sandwich and waving his arms around dramatically. Tommy was staring down at him, looking half amused at Tubbo’s enthusiasm and half concerned for his, and probably the rest of the kitchens, safety. Eret chose that moment to walk through the back door, and Tommy threw him a despairing glance. She laughed, and shook xeir head at the two teenagers.

“Honestly Toby, I should’ve known that coffee was a bad idea!” zey joked. Tommy blanched and stared at her like they’d grown an extra head.

“YOU GAVE HIM COFFEE?”

Eret snorted and Tubbo sat up, grinning evilly. Tommy shook his head violently, backing towards the wall and glaring wearily at his friend. Eret looked at the pair again, at this point used to the chaos of the two teenagers. He shook their head, moving to the cabinets and pulling out some bread. “Have you boys eaten yet? Either of you want a sandwich?”

Tubbo shook his head, triumphantly brandishing a packed lunch he’d pulled from apparently thin air. Tommy also shook his head, leaning back onto the counter and yawning. Raising an eyebrow, Tubbo hummed suspiciously and stared at his friend. “When did you last eat? You haven’t had anything here and I know you leave home stupid early.” Shifting uncomfortably, Tommy rolled his eyes and sighed. “I promise I ate breakfast Tubbo, you f*ckin worrywart.” From the table, where she’d just finished making a cheese sandwich, Eret exhaled sharply and turned towards the teenagers with a stern look plastered across his usually smiling face.

Tubbo, ever the troublemaker, laughed quietly and spoke in a sing-song voice. “uh-ohh~, Eret’s going big brother mode!” With a well-aimed kick to the shorter boys side, Tommy shot him a venomous glare.

family?

Adoption arc poggg

Found family time bitches

GivePLZ

“Tommy, I know full well you leave home at 7 to get here on time. It's…” Eret checked her watch, furrowing his brow at the time. “Just past 3 now, meaning you haven’t eaten for over 8 hours, and if I know you, which I do, you did not have nearly as much breakfast as you should at your age. I’m making you a sandwich. What do you want, chicken or cheese?”

Tommy shook his head, groaning. “I’m fine, Eret, I swear. You’re meant to be paying me to make food, and now you’re trying to make me lunch! I’ll just eat when I get home, it’s fine.” He sighed hopelessly, fully aware of how stubborn his boss and co-worker could be. There would be no stubborn without Tubbo, and the boy proved it by scoffing loudly. Eret smiled and raised an eyebrow. “So, chicken or cheese?”

Reluctantly, Tommy mumbled. “Cheese, please. Pretty sure chicken is some sort of cannibalism.” His boss nodded, evidently satisfied with his answer, and made her way over to the bread draw. 10 minutes later saw Tommy, cheese sandwich in hand, pelting Tubbo with some little bits of gravel he had in his pocket. They’d have to start reopening soon, just in time for the after-school rush, and then prepare for the even madder five pm rush as most workplaces let out for the day. Then, at six, he’d catch the first train back to the apartment, get changed, maybe shower if the water was on, and then head out again, this time clad in his vigilante clothes.

The next hours blurred, and before he knew it Tommy was waving goodbye to Eret and walking out the door, Tubbo by his side. They only walked together for a few short minutes, before Tubbo took a right turn up towards the bigger houses and Tommy took a left, to the station which led downtown. Pausing on the way, Tommy glanced at his watch. It was only just gone six, some of the shops might still be open if he hurried. It wasn’t his preferred area, and the stuff here was likely to be much more pricey than down near his home, but the shops would all no doubt be closed by the time he got back to the lower city. Sighing, he pulled out the list from that morning, and wandered towards Mellohi.

Chapter 3: Careful Kid, They Might Figure You Out

Chapter Text

Less than 20 minutes later, Tommy exited the shop with a bag full of enough food to last him at least a week. Really, who needed three meals a day? One was enough, and two was definitely pushing it. Still, he knew food was kinda important, even if it was a complete waste of money.

The short walk to the train station was boring, the journey itself somehow even more so. Tommy hauled the bag of groceries into the kitchen, quickly sorting through what needed to go in the fridge and what he could keep in the cupboards. It took less than five minutes to put everything away, and he checked the time. It was only ten to eight, meaning he had more than enough time. He could go out for a bit, maybe stop some muggings. Tommy thought he should probably take a shower first though, it had been at least a few days since the last. He threw a quick look around the room, and seemed to come to a decision.

Not long later, approximately four past eight by his watch, and Tommy was in full costume, climbing out the window. He’d made sure to set an alarm before leaving, a warning to head back at ten at the latest if he wanted any resemblance of a good night's sleep. But for the time being, he could zoom around the city to his heart's content.

Tommy – Theseus – was an outlier in the community. Legally labelled a villain for some obscure reason the heroes had yet to name, he fell more closely into the vigilante category. Just a random civilian who saw how f*cked up the world was and decided they had a power that was decent enough to do something with. He was one of the older ones. Not age-wise, no, but almost three years was a long time for vigilantes to be kicking about. Most either died, were recruited to either the heroes or villains, retired, or vanished within a couple years of them first showing up.

Tommy could only think of three completely independent vigilantes who’d been around longer than he had. Aphrodite, Nemesis, and Midas. All three were incredibly powerful and respected, and took great pride in remaining neutral. There were others, of course, who’d been around a while, but they usually fell into a larger group, often becoming either semi-official heroes or full-blown villains. Chronos, the number six hero, was an example of this.

He’d initially started out as a vigilante, working alongside his partner, Kairos. They’d fallen out, or so it was said, and Chronos had become an official hero while Kairos had instead turned to more illegal ways to earn a living due to his powers mostly revolving around being incredibly lucky. Some called him a villain, some maintained that he was a vigilante. Tommy truly didn’t give a sh*t either way, as long as he didn’t cause him any trouble.

“Oi! Leave that car alone you f*ckin’ wanker!” Tommy yelled across at some poor would-be thief attempting to break into a car. They jumped a foot in the air and made to run. Tommy didn’t stop them. They looked about his age, if he were to guess. A scrawny teenager who’d just been given the scare of their life and would probably never try to steal a car again. Or at least, not from round here, which was good enough for Tommy.

If he really thought about it, that was another thing that set him apart from other vigilantes. He spoke, often exchanging quick-witted comebacks and snarky comments with whichever person had been fool enough to attempt to take him on. There were almost no vigilantes he could think of who actively spoke on the job, mostly because they had no way to hide their voices. Heroes could easily get voice-changers that would attach to their masks or even throats, and any self-respecting villain would have a team who could get their hands on a voice-changer or two. But vigilantes? They had no such help.

Tommy didn’t much care. He didn’t really know anyone. He barely even existed in terms of documents, none of them legal, and unless Eret or Tubbo turned out to be heroes in disguise – Tommy almost scoffed at the thought –, there wasn’t much of a problem. His mask managed to muffle his voice well enough, and he wasn’t confident enough in his technological abilities to build himself a voice-changer without accidentally electrocuting himself.

Sighing, he turned away from the car and leapt back into the air, yanking some light into existence and letting it wrap around his hand comfortingly. He still had a long night ahead of him.

-0-

By the time his alarm started ringing almost 2 hours later, he’d dealt with three muggings, a second attempted car theft, and taken some homeless kid to get food. All in all, a pretty good outing in his books. That was, until he started heading back.

Uhh be careful

shush I want 2 watch

Hey you shush

TOMMY LOOK OUT

shut uppp

Yes I need my angst

Tommy was barely halfway home, muttering clipped responses to the voices, when he stopped in his tracks. He listened, and a moment later was rewarded with a slightly shaky but still recognisable voice calling out to him.

“Stop!” Aether shouted from the roof just across from where he was stood. They bounced across the gap to stand in front of Tommy, attempting to stand tall. It probably would’ve had more of an effect if Aether wasn’t literally shaking. The f*cker was tall, sure, but any scare factor was easily diminished by the almost palpable amount of anxiety they were radiating. Tommy probably would’ve laughed if he wasn’t trying to get home, as it was he snorted and rolled his eyes under the mask.

“Yeah, yeah, just f*ck off Aether I wanna get home.” Tommy turned to the fire escape, ready to jump down. Suddenly, Aether reached forward, grabbing his wrist. Almost robotically, they started talking. “Thes- Thesus!” Tommy shook his head. “It’s Theseus dude, I know it's a sh*t name but you could at least try get it right.”

Tommy almost winced, the name wasn’t bad, and he felt almost mean for saying so. He used to love the name. Still did, really. It made sense, two years ago, to choose his old nickname for the job. But hearing a name that used to be thrown at him wrapped in affection and honey-sweet care change to hatred and anger was not something he particularly enjoyed. Still, it fit with the theme. He wasn’t sure who decided every poor sod who put on a mask needed a Greek mythos name to go with it, but he could appreciate the effort put into each one. Some people were clearly doing their research.

This seemed to throw Aether off, and they hesitated before continuing. “Theseus! You are hereby under arrest for terrorism, robbery, evading capture, and violence against licensed heroes as well as vigilantism!”

Tommy yawned theatrically and shook off the weak grasp on his wrist. “Gods come on, it’s late, we’re both tired and I’m sure you have somewhere better to be. I know I f*ckin’ do. How about you just piss off and we can pretend this frankly pitiful encounter never happened, ey?”

Aether seemed to consider it, split-dyed hair falling in front of their eyes for a moment, and Tommy started moving again towards the fire escape before another equally recognisable voice broke in.

“Theseus!”

Tommy barely even reacted, just turning towards the voice and sighing. More people yelling at him, yay. Aether, on the other hand, jumped at least five feet in the air and sqeaked loudly, seemingly attempting to melt into the shadows. They were doing surprisingly well, as Tommy was pretty sure that wasn’t one of the young hero's powers. “What is it with people yelling that at me? It’s not like you could just leave me alone for one bloody night!” he gestured around angrily. Honestly, it really was a sh*t name choice. Even Dolos would’ve been better, and that was sad to think about.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Tommy thought exasperatedly, as Dolos himself strode forward. The man folded his arms across his chest and smiled cruelly. “Nowhere to run now, little… ‘hero’.” He smirked, making air quotes around the word hero, and rolled his shoulders. “Come quietly and it’ll be easier for both of us.” The hero seemed to have forgotten there was a third person on the roof, but Tommy wasn't in a hurry to point them out. “Oh yeah, ‘cause the last time you f*cks cornered me on a roof it went just brilliantly for you huh? Bet the people at the top were real pleased you got outsmarted by me again, weren’t they?” Tommy tried for a grin, but it no doubt looked forced. Thank god for masks. Aether made a small noise of distress from the shadows, but the blonde paid them no mind. More pressing matters to worry about, namely the hero still smirking down at him.

Dolos forced out a laugh, cracking his knuckles. “Well, no dumpsters for you to crawl away to this time. Face it, you’ve lost Theseus. You’ve finally flown too close to the sun!” The grin was quick to fall from the hero’s face as Tommy snorted. “Wrong myth, f*ckass. Anyways, who said I needed bins?”

YEAAHHH BADASS TOMMY TIME

PogChamp

pogggg

Don’t break your legs king

Tommy’s too poggers for brokn legs

he would simply say no

With that, he leapt over the hero’s head, running straight past Aether and to the other side of the roof, where he jumped down into the alleyway. Thank f*ck it’s a smaller building. He thought as he fell, wincing as his ankle twinged slightly at the impact. Behind him Dolos roared, and Tommy could hear him shouting angrily. The two heroes quickly took pursuit, Dolos jumping down into the street behind him and Aether flying above. Tommy swerved down a series of streets, not even paying attention to where he was going and just praying the voices weren’t f*cking him over. He paused, crouched in an alleyway, and listened for the heroes. A minute passed in silence. Then two.

Tommy got up slowly, dusting himself off. He made the informed decision to stay down on the streets, and tried to navigate back towards the town centre so he could figure out how to get home. Before he could get very far, however, a sound came from his left. Aether stood in the gap between two houses, whispering quietly, seemingly over a radio. “I’m sorry, really, I didn’t- I didn't mean to lose them sir, I swear I'm looking, I'm looking I’m trying!” Tommy stopped walking, slightly perplexed. Aether sounded like a child. A scared little child. And sure, Tommy knew he probably wasn’t one to talk about how that might be morally wrong, as he himself had been dressing up and fighting crime since he was 12, but still. This kid sounded scared.

Awww

Help te poor f*cker

:O alliumduo pog?

yayayay adoption time!

Adoption? They’re like the same age lmao

AND??? Adoption.

Child has been acquired >:)

Message deleted by moderator

ADOPTION ARC!!!!

For the last f*cking time, no sploiers.

*spoilers

HAha LLL, mods can’t spell

Against perhaps his better judgement, he approached Aether. The kid didn’t notice until Tommy was almost in front of them, their eyes pointed firmly at the floor, wincing occasionally from the shouts coming through the headpiece. When they did notice, they gasped and reached for the earpiece but Tommy got there first. He knocked a fist into the side of Aether’s head, not hard, but enough to effectively dislodge the earpiece and send it clattering to the floor. Tommy raised a foot and bought it down hard on the piece of equipment. Aether squeaked and scrambled back until their back hit the wall.

They looked close to tears, shaking slightly. Tommy softened, and held up his hands placatingly. “Hey, hey dude it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, I swear!” The calming effect he was going for was probably ruined by the fact that Tommy had been fighting the teens boss barely five minutes before, and by the sound of it Aether was getting the blame.

Aether opened their mouth as if to speak, and Tommy nodded encouragingly. “What- why- why aren’t you killing me?” They gasped out, still trying to melt into the wall. Tommy backed up, shaking his head. “Look, I don't know what you’ve been told, but I don't kill if I can avoid it. Believe it or not, I am actually trying to do some good here.” Aether didn’t move, and Tommy sighed. “Anyways, sorry for scaring you. I just- well, you sounded a bit distressed just then and I wanted to check you’re okay.” The hero snorted, shifting slightly. “Yeah, I'm fine. Now, you said earlier your whole thing like ‘oh we can forget this ever happened’ yeah? Well, I'm cashing that in now. Just, just go away and sleep or whatever and let me get back to work please?”

Tommy stood stunned for a moment, he was pretty sure that was the most he’d ever heard Aether speak. The hero moved again, edging away from the wall almost imperceptibly. Tommy moved fully out of their way, still frowning slightly, something still wasn’t sitting right with them. “Oh, yeah sure.” He hesitated as the hero passed, however, and reached out to grasp their wrist. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was getting soft, or maybe the voices had actually had an effect on him. Still, he didn’t pause before blurting out- “Be careful, okay? If you ever need help, my door’s always open, got it? Well, not literally but just- come find me if you need me, yeah?”

The hero nodded quickly, and took off into the sky. Tommy watched until they were out of sight. He then sighed, and looked around the alleyway. How the f*ck was he supposed to get home from here?

-0-

The next morning's commute to work was boring as ever, the train behind by almost 5 minutes, meaning Tommy ended up sprinting down the road to get to the shop in time. He threw his bag down behind the counter, calling out into the kitchen as he did. “Eret! Big T!” He poked his head into the kitchen, frowning when he wasn’t greeted by the usual hurricane of energy that was otherwise known as Tubbo. Eret pushed through the back door, smiling kindly. “Oh morning Tommy, I didn’t hear you come in! Is Tubbo around? He’s usually here by now, but he hasn’t shown up yet.”

Tommy shook his head, humming in thought. That… was a bit worrying. The voices thought so too, making their opinions clear enough that Tommy winced at the sudden influx of sound. Tubbo was always early, Tommy had teased him about it more times than he could count, so his absence today was strange. More than strange, the boy hadn’t even called in sick. It was worrying. He shook the concern away and flipped the sign to open, planting himself behind the counter while Eret busied herself in the kitchen.

Customers filed in, the morning rush in full swing, and Tommy was quickly swamped with orders. His best friend's absence temporarily slipped his mind, far too occupied with various customers and their preferred coffee, and he sighed in a mix of exasperation and relief as a familiar mop of brown hair came into view. Wilbur was the guy's name, although Tommy much preferred his version. “Heyy, black-coffee-eight-shots-ristretto! How’s the day going, haven’t seen you around recently.” He grinned, leaning over the counter. Wilbur rolled his eyes, grinning, and spoke. “Hey gremlin. You ever going to give up that nickname, or should I give up trying?”

EYYY WILBAH

all the homies love Wil

YEAAHH

Reckon Tommy’ll ever figure it out?

What out?

Y’know! That-

Message deleted by moderator

For f*cks sake, no spoilers you pricks

Sorry Clem

yeahhhh sorry I forgot

Tommy pretended to think about it for a moment as he tuned out the words coursing through his mind, exaggerating his movements comedically, before shaking his head and laughing. “Nah, no shot. You ordered that nuke of a coffee, I profit off your constant discomfort!” He grinned widely, already halfway through making the brunette his coffee, and thought back to the day they’d met.

It was late, only about twenty minutes from closing a good few months ago, when Wilbur had first walked into the coffee shop. He’d sidled right up to the counter, grinning as if he and Tommy were old friends, and brazenly asked for a black coffee with eight shots of ristresso. Tommy, far too sleep deprived for his own good, had stared at the man like he was mad, and stated in a completely deadpan tone:

“No.”

The brunette had stopped talking, looked at the barista in confusion, and quirked his eyebrow in confusion. “...No?”

Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes, and nodded. “No. I’m pretty sure that much coffee could kill you, and Eret made me promise not to kill any customers, no matter how much of a pretentious prick they’re being.”

The man grinned madly, laughed, and walked out. Tommy figured he’d made someone else mad, figured Eret was going to get a pissy review later, but instead the man walked right back in the next day. He stared Tommy dead in the eye, and casually ordered a “black coffee, seven shots of ristresso please.”

Pulled out of his memories, Tommy thrust the cup of coffee over the counter and waved as Wilbur left, grinning. The line was considerably shorter now, nothing like the mad rush in the first half-hour of opening, and Tommy was able to take a moment to relax. He rubbed at his temple, wincing and his hand brushed a bruise from the previous night. The TV hummed in the background, some news report playing. A half-full cup went tumbling off the counter, Tommy’s hands just a moment too late to catch it.

He rested his head on the table with a groan, hitting his head gently into the cool surface. A loud cough roused him from his thoughts, and when Tommy looked up he was met with the vaguely concerned expression of a customer. Putting on his best attempt at a smile, Tommy propped up his customer service mask and took the guy's order.

The door swung open with a bang, almost knocking the bell off its perch, and Tommy sighed, expecting some Karen getting pissed about their order. Instead, he was greeted with a whirl of chaos. Swearing like a sailor, Tubbo stumbled into the cafe. Tommy darted round the counter, ignoring the annoyed huff of a customer, and grabbed his best friend's arm. “sh*t, Tubster, where’ve you been!” He pulled the shorter boy into a quick hug, releasing him when he flinched away. “Tubs? You good big man?”

Huh

HUH?

WHO HURT OUR BEEBOY

DEATH TO THE PERPETRATIR

*perpatrator

*perpetrator

well that ruined your whole violent vibe

Shuddup

tmmyAngry

Prick

SHUT UP AND SRTAT KILLING

WHO HURT TUBBO

tmmyKill tmmyKill tmmykill

“I- Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Sorry I’m late, I didn’t mean… I gotta go find Eret oh sh*t!” The teenager darted off, clutching his backpack and weaving between tables as he went. Tommy situated himself back behind the counter, listening, and less than a minute later was rewarded with a loud crash and Tubbo’s frantic voice spilling from the kitchen. From what he could hear, Eret sounded more relieved than anything, and a few minutes later Tubbo reemerged and started wiping down tables.

By the time lunch rolled around it was as if nothing ever happened, the three sat in their familiar spots around the kitchen. Tubbo still looked slightly shaken, Eret and Tommy both periodically throwing the shortest concerned glances. Tommy watched as his friend ate, sleeve riding up as he lifted the sandwich to his mouth. The blonde boy hissed quietly, all eyes turning to him as he seethed. “What was that?” He demanded, pushing himself off the floor and moving towards Tubbo. Eret, who had been watching with mild concern, stood too, and her eyes flickered down until he too saw the bruises lining his employees wrist. Xey paused, watching as Tubbo curled in on himself and laughed humourlessly. “I’m fine bossman, don’t worry about me. Have you eaten today? Eret, Eret you need to make sure he eats-”

“I ate.” Tommy responded tersely, reaching a hand out as if he wanted to inspect Tubbo’s wrist. “What happened man? Was it- was…” The teenager paused, eyes flicking towards Eret, who took their cue and moved to the door. “I’m going to clean up some of the last tables, you boys sort this out okay? If you need anything just shout.”

As soon as she’d vanished through the door, Tommy resumed his question. “Was it your dad?” He looked at Tubbo, the shorter boy attempting to avert his eyes. “You don’t need to stay there dude, you’re sixteen yeah? He can’t stop you leaving, hell you can get emancipated! You don’t need to keep living with him.” Tommy held out his arms, and Tubbo reluctantly accepted the hug. “It’s fine. Just a couple more years and I can get out, he funds my classes so I do kinda need him. Yeah, he’s a bitch, but what can you do right?” Tubbo looked close to tears, and shifted on his feet.

KILL

yes

You can deathify the bitchboy

BLOOD

BLOOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

wait wrong chat

Message deleted by moderator

No chathopping please guys

sorry clem

we also take sacrifices for the Blood God though!

Blood for the Blood God f*ckersss!

CAN WE COMMIT CRIMES NOW

Sighing, Tommy hugged the boy tightly. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, nor would it likely be the last. “I’ll f*cking- kill him, I’ll f*ckin shank him! He’s a bitch, he’s a little bitch who can’t even pick on someone his own size and takes it out on his f*cking kid! He’s a bitch and a dick, deserving of a worse fate than f*cking Marsyas, not even Poena herself could find a punishment sh*tty enough for him! I’ll f*cking-” Tommy cut himself off with a groan, and Tubbo giggled wetly into his shoulder. “Oh god, I know you’re pissed when you start pulling out the mythology references!” The taller squawked, shoving the shorter gently. Tubbo moved away, sighing and wiping his eyes. “While that was a lovely display of our undying friendship, we should probably go get Eret. We’re over ten minutes late to open-”

“sh*t!” Tommy sprinted to the door, calling out to Eret as he went. “sh*t sh*t sorry, emotion-y sh*t ran over! I’ll open the door!”

Chapter 4: Tuesday's Child (Solemn and Sad)

Chapter Text

The day finished quietly, and Tommy barely remembered to check with Eret about the bag lady from yesterday (Niki was her name, and Eret assured him that she’d shown up and got her bag back) before he was heading out the door. Tubbo bounced along beside him. His chipper mood slowly dissipated as they neared his road, and Tommy stopped a few steps from where they’d usually part ways.

“You know… I have room in my apartment. Kind of. We can sort out schooling, it would be fine with the two of us both getting incomes. You could move in? f*ck your dad, you can just grab your sh*t and come live with me! It’d be fun!” He looked at his friend imploringly, and Tubbo seemed to almost consider his offer before shaking his head sadly. “Nah bossman, it’s fine. I’ll just tough it out, have done for the last sixteen years. It’ll all work out in the end. See you tomorrow, yeah?” The boy smiled ruefully, and Tommy breathed deeply. “Yeah. Yeah, see you Monday, king. Message me if anythin’ comes up, ‘kay?”

Tubbo nodded, and with a wave turned down his road. Tommy continued walking towards the station, plunged into a sullen silence. He wasn’t really in the mood for patrol, tonight was an early night. He muttered quietly as he walked, attracting some strange looks from passersby, and barely noticed as he collapsed onto the train. He was still deep in thought as the train pulled up, and even as he unlocked his apartment door. Tommy was just barely aware enough to remember to grab a protein bar before he fell dejectedly into bed.

-0-

The next week and a half seemed to blend together until it became almost a routine of get up, work, get home, patrol, sleep. New years passed uneventfully, and Tommy would’ve completely forgotten about it had Tubbo not been insistent on reminding him that they hadn’t seen each other since the previous year the next day at work. All in all, it was a perfectly ordinary time, Tommy’s only complaint being the unbearable cold of his apartment due to the lack of heating (courtesy of his landlord).

Tommy ran into Aether a few times, grinning at the teen under his mask despite it covering his mouth. The tall hero seemed vaguely more comfortable around him, and even waved cheerfully, red and green heterochromatic eyes crinkling upwards into a smile, the last time they saw each other. Dolos was as much of a bellend as ever, and Tommy didn’t hesitate to heed Aethers warning to stay out of his way, the hero apparently in a more distasteful mood than usual. He’d asked Aether, but they simply shook their head and muttered something about Artemis, the – recently deceased – hero apparently having been close friends with Dolos.

Tommy didn’t get much more out of the sidekick, instead just avoiding the number two hero like the plague. He’d run into a few of the other heroes, both Ares and Deimos at various points, and had even held a full conversation with Tyche, one of the local vigilantes in his area. He was incredibly pleased at that last one, and felt a strange, fuzzy sense of pride somewhere deep in his stomach at the revelation that she trusted him enough to actually speak to him. After all, it wasn’t as if she had a voice changer. He could’ve sworn he recognised her voice from somewhere, but he couldn’t for the life of him put his finger on it. And besides, he wasn’t going to go snooping just after she began to trust him.

All in all, he’d had a very productive and very tiring week.

It all came to a head on Tuesday, which was, in Tommy’s humble opinion, one of the worst days of the week (third, just behind Wednesday, the worst of all being Monday). Historically, at least in his own experience, everything seemed to happen on a f*cking Tuesday. Good or bad, it was a dramatic day.

The day had started off normally, as every bad day did, Tommy having walked into work and proceeded to spend the first 15 minutes of his shift bothering Tubbo. It was about halfway through the morning shift that Tommy remembered the date, just two days before Eret’s birthday, and took the liberty of planning an outing at lunch with Tubbo so the pair could discreetly buy them gifts. This, naturally, was where things started to go downhill. Because when can Tommy ever have good things?

Lunch started off normally, Eret watching with an eagle eye to make sure Tommy ate, and not long after Tommy finished his sandwich he was tugging Tubbo out the door, promising Eret to make sure they were safe and back within the hour. The pair spent about 10 minutes browsing nearby shops for anything Eret might like, but after coming up empty-handed for what felt like the thousandth time, they decided their lunch break was better spent at Mellohi shopping centre, the biggest place nearby that might be of use to them. It wasn’t a long walk, maybe 3 minutes down the Prime Path, so Tommy figured they’d still get back in time to reopen for the afternoon rush.

Well. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that.

Running down the road, Tubbo screeched loudly and careened to the side as Tommy trundled past, snatching his best friend's bag and waving it high above his head. The shorter boy swore, speeding up, and it wasn’t long before he’d overtaken his friend and was attempting to snatch back his bag. Tommy danced around, hoisting the bag as far over his head as he could reach, and tried to take off down the road.

He barely got five paces before Tubbo tripped him, sending the blonde flat on his face, and grabbed his bag. Tommy grumbled as he stood up, but still grinned and took the hand offered to him. “f*cker!” He panted loudly, whacking Tubbo softly round the head, and opened the tall glass door that led into the shopping centre.

“Okay, we’ve got about twenty minutes if we want to get back for opening, so meet back here in fifteen?” Tommy turned to face his friend, still huffing for breath. Tubbo nodded distractedly, eyes already scanning the shopfronts. “Yeah, see you then bossman!” He called out, already halfway to a shop window proudly displaying a pile of metal scraps. Tommy rolled his eyes fondly and turned away, heading towards the escalator and the shops above.

Only about half of their time was spent when Tommy next heard Tubbo’s voice, calling out to him excitedly over the hum of the crowd. He turned towards the voice, abandoning the plastic crown he’d been examining, and headed towards his friend. “Tommy! Hey, Tom! Look what I found, it’s a bee that can-”

The explosion that sent the whole shopping centre shaking promptly cut off Tubbo’s next words, and Tommy instinctually threw his arms in front of his face to defend from… Something. He was quick to react, practice forcing his eyes open mere seconds after the initial blast. Not that it helped much, the air clouded with so much dust and debris that he could hardly see 3 feet ahead of him.

Oh sh*t

Welp, whoever said they’d kill the world and then themself better get to it

NOO

OH f*ck

sh*t HSIT sh*t

AHHHH

SOMEOEN GOGET ERET

WE NEED A PARENTAL FIGURE ON THE SCENE STAT

tmmyPHIL

not that parental figure :sobs:

dammit

FUVK

Ah bollocks

NotLikeThis

wheres Tubbo?

TUBBO

“Tubbo! Tubbo, where are you!” He called into the chaos, terrified civilians buffeting him from side to side and screaming loudly. More explosions came, and Tommy turned away from the blast. He focused his attention instead on a nearby toilet, somehow still standing, and ducked inside quickly. In an instant, he was tugging his Theseus costume from his bag and pulling it on, before ducking out of the cubicle just as fast as he’d gone in. Glancing around the chaos, he was certain no one had noticed the change. And he thought grimly anyone who did probably won’t live long enough to say anything.

Tommy- Theseus now, shook off the morbid thought and focused on the carnage. Innocent people ran around like headless chickens, trampling others under their feet. Tommy sighed, and began yelling directions to those nearest him. “Right!” He bellowed, eyes still scanning the crowd fruitlessly for a familiar green button up or bee hat. “Everyone, stay on your left. Go calmly down the stairs, avoid the lift please, and you’ll find the emergency exits easily. Anyone need help gettin’ down?” He called out, almost surprised as a few people started listening. That was good. People didn’t usually listen to a vigilante, much less one who sounded like a child. No one said anything other than the usual screaming, so he figured they’d be fine.

Still the chaos reigned on, Tommy having managed to direct only a handful of civillains towards exits. And still no sign of a familiar Tubbo-shaped figure anywhere within that number. Tommy looked around wildly, feeling more than slightly out of his depth, and almost cried out in relief as a familiar voice cut through the air. The figure stood at the edge of a hole in the roof, surveying the scene for a moment before gliding gracefully downwards. Midas. A fellow vigilante, and one that Tommy had talked to and even worked with on a number of occasions. One of the few vigilantes who somehow had access to a voice-changer, and made the best of the technology.

The f*cker was tall, not as tall as Aether but still tall, and seemed to give off a confident aura. Maybe it was the voice, one of the brunettes defining characteristics. Everybody who came into contact with the vigilante felt a sense of safety and trust whenever Midas spoke, which was undeniably helpful in crowd situations like this.

“Everyone calm down.” Midas called out evenly, confidence spilling from every word. “Head to the ground floor, stay to the left. When you reach the ground floor, turn to the side and you will see the exit. Calmly make your way towards said exit. Thank you.” And they did. Almost every civilian within hearing distance calmed significantly, and peacefully began making their way toward the exits. Tommy shot Midas a grateful smile, realising a moment too late that his mask hid it, and gave the vigilante a quick nod instead, which Midas was quick to return.

Yeeee Midas pogg

we all knew-

Message deleted by moderator

Shut it, no spoilers. This bit’s important.

Oop right, sorry Clemmy I forgot he doesn’t know

It’s fine

Clemmy???

Shush

The fight wasn’t over, however, and Tommy was tugged unceremoniously from the momentary victory by a familiar shout. He whipped around, scanning every available surface for his best friend. Tommy almost wished he hadn’t, eyes landing on a terrified-looking Tubbo, kneeling on the floor and clutching his arm as Actaeon stood over him. The ex-hero looked thunderous, and behind him Tommy could see Phobos clutching his apprentice, Alopex, close to his chest. Tommy ignored the good-for-nothing heroes, instead turning his attention to his best friend. Actaeon twisted his hand in the air, hand clenched around a shock of blue energy, and prepared to release a fistfull of sonic waves.

TUBBO

NO

TOMMY SAVE HIMMM

f*ck

NOOO

AHHHHHHH

OH GODS

WHERE’S AETHER WHEN YOU NEED THEM???

BALLS BALLS BALLS

Tommy screeched, eyes blown wide as he sprinted forward, knowing in his mind that he’d never reach Tubbo in time. That didn’t stop him trying, spurred on by the voices, and he reached a hand out as if that would do anything to halt the waves. Actaeon seemed to look up for a split second, eyes locking on Tommy’s own, before his mouth twisted into a cruel smile beneath the deer mask partially covering it.

And he sent the fistful of pure energy spiralling right into Tubbo’s face.

Chapter 5: Gunfire and Explosions, That's our Cue!

Chapter Text

Tommy couldn’t look away. Time seemed to stop, this time not due to Chronos or his powers but instead due to the pure, unadulterated panic coursing through Tommy’s veins.

The blast of power rocketed forwards, inches away from blasting Tubbo to smithereens, and Tommy wanted to close his eyes. He wished he could, just this once, be a coward. Wished he didn’t have to see his best friend's face get blown in.

The sonic waves landed, and sizzling flesh could be heard, but when Tommy’s eyes recovered from the brightness he could see Tubbo, still terrified but perfectly unharmed, crouched beneath a large shadow. The shadow shifted, and threw itself at Actaeon. It was only when the shadow stepped forward that Tommy was able to identify it as one of the top heroes, Deimos. Deimos, who had just… Saved Tubbo?

Tommy stood for a moment, frozen, before rushing forward to scoop Tubbo off the floor. “Tubbo! Tubbo, thank the gods you’re okay. I’m goin’ to get you out of here, don’t worry!”

“To- Theseus!? What- How-” Tubbo’s voice cut off as he swore loudly and was pulled upwards. Tommy yanked his arm, dragging him through the store with little regard to the fight going on behind them. “Uh- bro, don’t you have, I dunno, vigilante duties to attend to or something?”

Tommy ignored the question, too focused on dodging a random bit of debris someone had sent flying right beside them. “sh*t!” He cried out, watching helplessly as a metal pipe ricocheted off of Tubbo’s shoulder, leaving it bent at an unnatural angle. Tommy cursed, lifting Tubbo further into his arms, and darted towards the exit.

“Oh f*ck sh*t balls piss f*ck dick-” He kept up the chain as he sprinted down the road, now practically carry a half-concious Tubbo with him.

Uh-oh

run run run run

GET TUBBO SAFE!

Not da bee boi D:

tmmyVerySad

who will bee if bee boy is dead?

NO
Tubbo will be fine

It’s okay

where’s R-

Message was deleted by moderator

Shush

EVERYONE SHUDDUP

“Shut the f*ck up, all of you!” Tommy muttered harshly, turning down the street. “Who d- f*ck. f*ck f*ck f*ck!” There was nowhere he could go. He couldn’t go home, his apartment would take too long, there was no way he could carry Tubbo all the way there even with his wings, and anyway it wasn’t like he had any health potions. He might be able to get to Eret’s, but he’d have to get out of his vigilante outfit and explain everything, and even then it wasn’t guaranteed she’d have a health pot. “Fuuuckk, where do I go. Tell me! Tell me where I can go!” He called out into the empty air, spinning around as he clutched Tubbo close to him. The little orbs of light seemed to glow even brighter than usual, and Tommy tried to concentrate on specific words.

haha angst LLL

GO TO THE PARK

yeahhhh park!

“The park!? Why the f*ck am I goin’ to the park, please, Tubbo is f*ckin’ DYIN’ HERE!” Tommy shouted, his throat raw. Regardless, he turned and headed towards the little patch of grass often referred to as a park.

Take a left on Lemon Tree Walk and head through Boomerville

smartass

Stfu I’m trying to keep Tubbo alive here you prick

Mmmm sweet sweet angst

PogU

“Right, right, shut it you f*cks. Left on Lemon and down through Boomerville? Really? I swear to f*ck, if you’re messin’ with me right now I will f*ckin’ kill all of you.” Tommy muttered as he ran, skidding as he almost sprinted right past the turn into Boomerville. The chaos of the fight now far behind him, Tommy was surprised as a familiar flash appeared on his glasses, indicating a nearing hero. The surprise quickly turned into relief, however, and he registered the name beneath.

It was Aether.

“Oh thank f*ck,” Tommy muttered, now fully supporting Tubbo’s unconscious body. “Aether! Aether, please, please!” His voice cracked, and Tommy paused to listen for Tubbo’s laboured breathing. His arms ached, and he lowered Tubbo gently to the floor. “f*ck! f*ck f*ck f*ck! Aether! Aether, please! I don’t mean any harm, I swear!” Tommy sobbed, spinning around to stare at the tall buildings pressing in from either side. “Aether! Please, Aether! I need- I need your help! Please!” He called desperately into the sky. Crying out in frustration, Tommy threw his hands upwards. A flash of purple caught his eye, and he squinted through tears of frustration as a popping sound met his ears.

“Th- Theseus? What are you doing here??” Aether appeared beside him in a flurry of particles, a confused expression plastered across his unmasked face. “Aether! Aether, oh, thank the gods! Please, my friend is hurt. Jus’- where can I get a health potion? I’ll do anythin’, I jus’ need a health pot!”

Aether turned to Tubbo, appearing shocked as if he hadn’t noticed the boy slumped against the wall until that point, and seemed to consider. Their eyes darted back and forth, flitting between the floor and Tubbo, whose breathing was becoming increasingly ragged. “I- can’t. That would just end really badly, I’m sorry.”

Their eyes locked on the floor, and they seemed genuinely sad about the decision. Aether made to turn around, heading to the end of the alleyway slowly, when Tommy grabbed their arm, staring at them in despair. “Please! Please, Aether. Jus’ tell me where I can find one, or just help me get him to a hospital or somethin’! I swear I won’t tell anyone it was you!”

Aether hesitated, turning back to fully face Tommy, and Tommy saw the taller teens expressionate eyes flick towards Tubbo. The hero sighed, running a hand down their two-toned face, and seemed to come to a decision.

“Ohohoh, Dolos is going to kill me,” They muttered, shaking their head, before turning back to Tommy. “Okay, you stay here and I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.” And then Aether was vanishing in a puff of purple, before Tommy even got a chance to ask where they were going.

He sighed, sliding down the wall beside Tubbo, and pulled the shorter boy closer towards him. He leant backwards, wacking his head into the wall, and groaned. “f*ck me man, what the f*ck were you guys thinkin’?! For all we know, Aether just f*cked off and left Tubbo to die!”

They would never >:(

yeah don’t worry, they’ll be back!

It’s okay, Aether will be back soon

aether/pos

yesyes Aether is very trustworthy!

“Gods, okay, I’ll believe you. But if they’re not back in five, I’m figurin’ this sh*t out on my-”

“Theseus? You okay?” The familiar anxious voice called out, and Tommy’s head snapped up to where Aether had reappeared, a health pot clutched in their hand as promised. “Yeah, ’m all good. Not the issue here, health pot, now!”

The hero thrust the bottle towards Tommy, bright pink liquid swirling about inside, and Tommy grabbed it and hastily tipped its contents into Tubbo’s mouth. The shorter boy mumbled, frowning, but his eyes remained closed and Tommy let out a sigh of relief as his breathing started to calm. He turned to Aether, smiling weakly. “Thank you, really. I don’t- just let me know if you need help some point, yeah?”

They nod, hovering in front of the pair. “Do you… Are you able to get home safely?”

Tommy glanced up, attention momentarily ripped away from ensuring Tubbo wasn’t on the brink of death, and shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry though. Figured we’d just wait here ‘til Tubs is well enough to walk, then we can head home. It’s too risky to take him like this, it’s too far. No one’ll try bother us, a famed villain and an injured teen he clearly cares about. We’ll be fine. Thanks again, let me know if you ever need a favour, okay? You should probably go now, before anyone at heroes gets suspicious.” Aether nodded slowly, but seemed to hesitate, and considered the pair slumped by the wall. “Well? You’d better get outta here before Dolos shows up, else we’ll both be f*cked, yeah?” Tommy gestured towards the end of the alleyway expectantly, pulling Tubbo closer towards him.

Sighing, Aether turned towards the alleyway exit and the back again. They repeated the process a good five times, before rubbing a hand down their face and mumbling to themself. “Yes, I know. My goodness, who made morals so hard! No, you can’t get attached to him. Shuddup. Okay! Fine! What’s your address?” The hero groaned, the last part of the sentence directed at Tommy. Numbly, Tommy answered, barely even registering the words. The hero cracked their neck and stuck an arm out. Tommy stared at it, confusion evident despite his mask. Aether groaned again. “Grab hold, give me your friend's arm as well. Quick!” They snapped, and Tommy reached towards them without thinking. He pushed Tubbo’s limp palm towards them too, and the tall hero grabbed hold. A pop, followed by a sickening sensation in his stomach and his world dissolved into purple.

-0-

The next thing he knew, Tommy was in a heap on the familiar floor of his apartment. He retched, wheezing out a breath, but luckily nothing worse. “sh*t! What the f*ck was that, dude!” He panted, whirling around feverently. Aether was leaning against the sofa, where Tubbo seemed to have been placed. The hero winced, holding out a hand to help Tommy up. “Yeah, sorry about that. The first few teleports can be a bit rough, but you get used to it soon enough. You okay? Don’t need me to grab a bucket or anything, right?”

Tommy shook his head, yawning. “Nah, I’m good big ma- big person? Sorry, pronoun check?” He asked, realising suddenly that he didn’t know the young hero’s pronouns. Aether looked flummoxed by the question, responding with an awkward: “Uh, he/they is good. Yours?” To which Tommy nodded, satisfied, and smiled again beneath the mask. “He/him, big man. Now, do you mind helping get Tubbo to the bed? I can lift him, but help would be appreciated.”

Aether smiled slightly, lifting Tubbo’s feet off the sofa as Tommy grabbed the brunette under his arms. The pair manoeuvred through the cluttered living space, only tripping a few times and ultimately making it to the bed with minimal injury. Tommy pulled the blanket over Tubbo, gently shutting the door and leading Aether back to the sofa. The taller boy sat wearily, knees pulled up to their chest, and Tommy chuckled. “D’you always radiate anxiety, dude, or just because I’m here?”

He made his way over to the small kitchen, wrinkling his nose at the day-old cup of coffee on the counter, and poured two cups of water. When he looked back, Aether hadn’t even shifted his gaze from where it was firmly planted on the stained carpet. Tommy sauntered over, handing the teen a glass of water and sitting beside him. Aether gingerly placed the cup on the sh*tty excuse for a side table, finally looking at Tommy.

“So, you going to explain why you were in an alleyway with a bleeding-out teenager?”

Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Wow, no ‘hello? How are you?’ Just straight in there, huh.”

Aether just raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Tommy shifted, sighing, but continued. “Fine, if you must know I was at the shops when everything went to sh*t, and some of your lovely co-workers were there blowing stuff to hell, as per usual. One of them hit Tubbo, that’s ‘bleeding-out teenager’’s name, by the way, and so I decided it was time to dip. Happy?” Aether hummed, looking at him sceptically. “Hmm, I dunno. Aren't you meant to help more than just one person, your whole ‘vigilante-vilain-antihero’ thing?”

Tommy levelled him with an unimpressed glare, somehow making its point even though Aether couldn’t see his face. “Well, I’m sorry Mr. I Have Such High Morals, but Tubbo is my friend and hence, he will always be my top priority.”

The taller teen raised his hands in mock surrender, the ghost of a smile crossing their face, and shook his head. “Okay, okay. Top priority, got it. Now, I really should get going, Dolos is going to skin me alive for getting back so late as is. I’ll-” They hesitated, looking at Tommy with an almost sad expression. “I guess I’ll see you next time you and Dolos cross paths, huh?”

Tommy smiled ruefully, humming. “Yeah, guess so. Will you be safe?” He asked, frowning. It was a stupid question, they both knew the answer. Still, Tommy asked. And still, Aether shrugged. And still, Tommy led him to the front door with a polite wave and worried gaze. And still, he watched the hero vanish into the air, purple shrouding the space they’d just been occupying.

Chapter 6: If the Sky Comes Falling Down, For You, There's Nothing in This World I Wouldn't Do

Chapter Text

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, retreating back into the apartment with a groan. He collapsed onto the sofa, sinking into it tiredly. Tubbo mumbled something from the other room, but Tommy was too exhausted to focus.

His head throbbed, part with the ever-present voices which seemed to have only increased in volume since Aether left, and part simply from the amount of chaos and worry he’d felt in the last three hours alone. He should call Eret, let him know that both of them were safe. His phone was in the other room. He couldn’t be bothered to get up, legs like lead, and instead let his eyelids droop shut. Tommy quickly drifted off into a restless sleep.

His dreams were fitful, flashes of the day's events merging into memories of his past.

Dark, perpetually damp, barred windows, colourful shops, explosions, the roar of a crowd.

A voice, familiar in an almost melancholic way. Nostalgia, grief, ripped through Tommy at the sound of it.

And then the feeling was gone, replaced with coursing terror and adrenaline.

Tommy knew this memory, knew this feeling. Knew this day.

Could hear the shouts coming from all sides, could feel the hot ground scraping harshly against his knee as he tripped onto the rocky floor, trying desperately not to drop any of the books clutched to his chest, could taste the blood in his mouth mixing with sweat. He could see something bright, something almost blinding, ahead of him. He was sprinting, no, flying, towards it at an alarming rate. He burst out of the tunnel, shielding his eyes, and never so much as looked back as he raced down the cobbled street.

Then the voice was back, but not in the right place. He hadn’t been here for this memory, dead for at least a year, GONE, the timings were wrong! All wrong! Still, the voice called out to him. “Thes- f*ck," it broke off into a harsh cough, and he could almost feel the dusty air around them. "Tommy, wait here, I’ll find you after- I promise I’ll be back. Tommy!”
“Tommy!”

“Tommy! Tom, run! I’ll keep them busy!” A different voice, not his but theirs, and he listened.

“Tommy, wait here!”

“Tommy, run!”
“Tommy!”

“Tommy!”

“Tommy!”

It was early, too early after the absolute clusterf*ck that had been the previous day, and Tommy was rudely awoken by a hand slamming into his chest.

“What. The f*ck. Are these?” Tubbo threw his arms up, glaring at Tommy.

“Wha- Heh? They’re-” Tommy squinted at the object held in his friend's hand, immediately recognising them. “My glasses, why?” He pushed himself up on his elbows, rubbing his temple as the voices all chimed in with an array of questions and variations of good morning.

Tubbo levelled him with an unimpressed stare, and shook his head. “Your f*cking whats ? Glasses? These? They look like you pulled them out of the bin behind a f*cking Weatherspoons!”

Tommy squawked in offence, whacking Tubbo round the face as he leapt up. “I’ll have you know I worked hard on these! I even upgraded them myself, and they work perfectly well, thank you very much!”

Tubbo rolled his eyes, massaging his nose where Tommy had hit it. “Work perf- Tommy, these look like they’d collapse if you looked at them the wrong way!”

“HEH??? I’d like to see you do any better!”

“Oh? Was that a challenge? Give me three hours and a desk, I’ll have it sorted.” Tubbo paused, looking around the apartment surreptitiously. “...You do have a desk, right?”

Tommy gestured over to a pile of who-knows-what, yawning as he did so. “Yeah, just in the- in the corner over there.”

Tubbo frowned at the corner with disgust and pinched his forehead. “Okay, let me rephrase quickly- Do you have a functioning, preferably clean desk?” Shaking his head, Tommy made his way towards the kitchen. “No can do, big man. Just clear some off if you want the surface, don’t see what good it would do anyway. My glasses are perfect!”

Tubbo shook his head, glaring at the lump of metal and glass as if it had personally killed his family. Which, actually, given what little Tommy knew of his friend's family, might not be such a bad thing.

“Okay- Okay, I’ll sort out the f*cking desk. Just, explain, just quickly. Why. The f*ck. Do your glasses. Look like that ?”

And… Tommy could see his point. His glasses weren’t bad per se, they were just. Unique. Originally they’d been a heroes; Demeter’s, if he remembered right, but he’d snagged them after running into her about six months into his vigilante escapade. Her name was one of the more literal of those he’d heard, but her creeping vines weren’t difficult to escape, and honestly the flowers she grew were quite lovely.

When he first got the glasses they’d only shown the basic map, red dots showing where heroes were but never showing names. Tommy had just updated it a bit, removed the tracker chip, added names for each of the heroes, and tuned them into the police radio system instead of the hero comms. It really hadn’t been that hard.

Okay that was a lie, hence why the glasses had random lumps of soldering across the frames. But in his defence, it wasn’t like Tommy had any prior experience in that kind of stuff. He hadn’t even been out of The Pit a year at that point, and could hardly read. So all in all, he’d say he did quite well.

Hate to break it to you but they do look awful

o7

Yeahhh have to agree with that one sorry big man

LLLLLL

hey he tried his best

Its the thought that counts :penisve:

Message deleted by moderator

hOLy sh*t how do you f*cknuts even manage to spoil stuff now??? Nothing spoilable is even happenign!

*happening hahahah

Lmao f*cknuts 💀

Can we just let the kid talk?

who u calling a kid >:(

He’s literally a child wdym

yeee sh*tty glasses poggg

Bitchass we’re in his head, we’re technically the same age

shhh

Okay, sure, they looked like sh*t. But it didn’t really matter, they did their job. They weren’t exactly meant to look nice, function over form and all that. But… Tommy guessed it couldn’t exactly hurt if Tubbo was able to make them look less, how to put it, post-apocalyptic. Which he couldn’t. But at least Tommy would be able to laugh when his friend realised that there was no way to beat his expert craftsmanship. Obviously.

That was why, with a groan, Tommy helped clear the desk. Not because he thought Tubbo could actually improve his perfect glasses. They were big man glasses, no improvement needed!

Uh-huh

sureee

lmao making Tubster do the dirty work

L

Pogggggggggg child labour

Tubbo is older than Tommy you know

shut it nerds

OI

WHO’RE YOU CALLIN NERDS???

tmmyAngry

Ooohkay everyone calm it down

Sorry Clem

Yuppers sorry big C

HI CLEMENTINE o/

Heyo

HIIII :D

ModPats

Pay attention

Ofc ofc anything for my favourite disembodied voice

Tommy rubbed his temple, checking the time on his phone as he did so. There was still a much-needed conversation between himself and the brunette now glaring at the glasses, but that could wait. It would wait. Tubbo could have his whole holy-sh*t-my-friend-is-a-vigilante freakout later, right alongside his holy-sh*t-I-almost-died freakout. Tommy looked forward to it. But first, he should probably go and reassure Eret that they were both okay before his boss started pulling her hair out.

Tommy winced, remembering the last time he’d scared Eret like this. Well, never exactly like this, but about as close as he’d gotten.

It had not been a fun day, Tommy running on no sleep and half a stale oreo, and he’d walked into work before promptly passing out. He’d come round to see Eret worriedly screeching into the phone, gesturing towards him frantically. They had proceeded to shout at him for a good five minutes, going on about “taking proper care of himself” and “making sure he ate enough” (complete rubbish in Tommy’s humble opinion, but whatever), before they’d pulled him into a hug and made him a sandwich.

Tommy hadn’t realised at the time just how worried Eret had been. He knew now. There was little point getting a train, none ran at this particular time and he didn’t want to be waiting around. Theseus was usually a nighttime vigilante, but surely it couldn’t hurt to change it up a little. Throw off anyone trying to keep track of him. It also meant he would get to Eret’s faster. Yeah, that was the main reason.

Tommy made sure his mask was secured as he unlatched the window, calling out a quick farewell to Tubbo as he hoisted himself onto the sill. Dropping down, Tommy let his wings spread. Sure, it wasn’t exactly ideal for people to see he had wings, but hopefully the bandages and dirt coating them would throw off any recognisable colour. And maybe it was time for people to know, he couldn’t keep them hidden forever after all.

-0-

As expected, the flight was quick. A journey that would’ve taken him an hour and a half by train was reduced to a quick fifteen minutes by flight, and he touched down a street over from the cafe with a grin. It was… elating, to fly. In any other situation, it might've even been fun. Maybe relaxing. Almost freeing. Almost.

He quickly ducked out of sight, taking a subtle glance around to ensure he wasn’t being watched, and pulled off his jacket and mask. Tommy stuffed it into his bag, ruffling his hair back from where the wind had blown it sideways. Peeking out of the alleyway revealed an empty street, and Tommy barely hesitated as he strode out, doing his best to look as if he wasn’t an illegal vigilante. Knowing his luck, he probably failed miserably.

The walk was brisk, a minute at most, and Tommy soon found himself facing the welcoming warmth of the cafe. The sign said closed, but the lights were on. Tommy felt a twinge of guilt, he and Tubbo were supposed to be working today. He hoped Eret wouldn’t lose too much profit. Well, he also hoped Eret wasn’t tearing xeir hair out in worry, which was probably the more pressing issue but that was too much to ask. The cafe wasn’t locked, and so he pushed inside, the little bell ringing as he entered. He remembered helping to put up that bell.

A familiar voice called from the back, sounding more tired than usual. “Sorry, we’re closed today! If you want coffee I can direct you to Puffy’s pastries, it’s just near the hero tow-”

Eret’s face paled as he walked out of the kitchen, and they froze for a moment before darting forward and pulling Tommy into a tight hug. They stayed there for at least a minute, Tommy leaning his head on Eret’s chest, before Eret grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him away.

“What the f*ck were you thinking!? No call, no text, nothing! Nothing, except the f*cking news on loop about a fight at Mellohi! I get ba- I get worried that you two aren’t back yet and turn on the tv, and see absolute carnage! I didn’t even spot you, and the last I see Tubbo is him almost getting blasted to f*cking smithereens! And then I’m left, for sixteen f*cking hours, with nothing! Not even a simple message to let me know neither of you were dead! In the name of all that is holy, what were you thinking!” She shook Tommy lightly by the shoulders before pulling him into another, impossibly tighter, hug.

He patted them on the back awkwardly, cringing slightly as he realised how truly worried Eret had been. “Sorry, mum ,” Tommy scoffed lightly, the deadpan half-frown he received in return quickly causing him to sober up. He rubbed at the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, okay. Sorry. It wasn’t particularly smart. But then again, I was sleeping almost as soon as we got home, and Tubbo wasn’t exactly able to call what with needing rest for his broken ar-”

“HIS WHAT?”

Ah. Tommy could see this might take some explaining.

-0-

“Yeah, his arm got broke. Nothin’ major though! I got him a health pot almost immediately after, and he’s at the apartment resting now.”

Tommy tactfully left out the part about getting a hero to get (likely steal) the health pot for them, he didn’t a ctually want to give Eret a heart attack. Still, his boss looked about ready to pass out.

“Wh- I- Huh? Where did you even get a health pot in the first pla- Actually, never mind I don’t want to know. Just. You’re both okay. You’re both okay and not going to die, that’s good. That’s really good.” She seemed to taper off, muttering to himself. Tommy patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, aiming for comfort but probably landing somewhere closer to resignation. At any rate, it seemed to do the trick as Eret rubbed at their eyes and smiled weakly.

Tommy smiled back lightly, apologetically, and took the chair Eret offered. He had a lot of explaining to do.

Two hours. Two hours of long-story-shorts and long-story-longs, of cussing out heroes and watering down details, and Eret was finally satisfied. Obviously, Tommy couldn’t say the whole truth. He knew Eret wouldn’t give a rats arse, knew xey had a soft spot for most vigilantes, knew it wouldn’t make a jot of difference. But he also knew that wasn’t something he could just drop on someone.

‘Oh hey, you know how you thought I was dead and were berating me for putting myself in a life-endangering situation? Guess what! I do that on a daily basis!’

Yeah no, not in a million years. So, making up details and fuzzing it with pretend forgetting was how he rolled. He was actually pretty well-versed in the art of fudging details like that after so long, so he was pretty certain Eret bought it.

Of course, some details could stay. Seeing the heroes, narrowly dodging debris, seeing Midas lead civilians to exits because of the vigilante's syrupy sweet voice, dodging into a toilet cubicle to escape the carnage. Most parts, however, were… Edited, to say the least.

Saving Tubbo changed to finding him in the crowd and yanking him over to the exit, hovering above the throngs of people changed to being buffeted side to side by panicked bodies, meeting Aether in the alleyway turned to supporting Tubbo’s weight as they stumbled home, getting the hero to steal them a potion turned to Tommy having one in his cupboard for emergencies. All details that were blurred, whether for Eret’s safety or Tommy’s own peace of mind he wasn’t quite sure.

At any rate, it was almost two pm by the time Tommy was leaving the cafe, waving a cheery goodbye to Eret and promising, under threat of overprotectiveness, that both he and Tubbo would be in for their next shift. He closed the door behind him, glancing once more at the cafe as he walked before it vanished round the corner.

It didn’t take him long to find a nice secluded spot to pull his vigilante gear over his clothes, and less than a minute after that Theseus was back in the air. He got home in record time, barely pausing to acknowledge the direction he was going.

Flopping through the window with a grunt, Tommy tripped and fell flat on his face, swearing loudly. He was soon met with ruckus laughter and barely had time to react before a pair of almost unrecognisable glasses were being chucked unceremoniously at his face.

Chapter 7: Why Can't Everyone Just Go Away (Except You, You Can Stay)

Chapter Text

Tommy would never admit it, but leaving Tubbo alone for so long made him embarrassingly worried. Tense. It probably did make some kind of sense, especially given the absolute sh*t-show that had been the previous day. Not as if that had scared Tommy of course! No way, he was far too big of a man for something like that to freak him out, obviously.

Still, even he couldn’t deny the overwhelming rush of relief he felt as Tubbo threw a newly remodelled pair of glasses directly at his chest.

Tommy squawked, grinning beneath his mask, and fumbled as he tried not to drop the glasses. Experimentally, he slipped the glasses onto his face and nodded. They somehow fit even better than before, which made absolutely no sense as Tubbo didn’t have a mould of his face, but for all Tommy knew the boy may well have taken measurements while he was asleep. It… Well, it actually wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest. But Tommy ignored that slightly concerning idea in favour of dragging the other boy into a hug.

It was a few seconds before he pulled away, and Tubbo dragged him over to the sofa. Tommy tried and failed to wriggle his way out of his friend's grip, letting out something between a laugh and a cry of indignation. “Dude- Can I at least go change? Or just gimme a few seconds to take off my mask, big man.”

Tubbo shook his head, forcing Tommy onto the sofa with a cheerful “Nope!”. Then he turned to stand in front of his friend, who simply rolled his eyes and pulled his mask down and away from his eyes, leaning back into the couch. Tubbo folded his arms, clearly expecting an explanation.

“Well?” The ram-boy asked, only serving to further Tommy’s theory. Tommy simply shrugged, drumming a pattern onto the arm of the sofa with his fingers. “Well what, Big T?” Tubbo rolled his eyes, sighing, and dropped the crossed arms in favour of flumping down onto the sofa beside his friend. “Well, when the f*ck were you going to tell me you were Theseus!? Actually, why the f*ck are you Theseus? He’s been active for basically three f*cking years, how did your parents- Do you even have parents? Just- What the f*ck, dude! How did I not know you had cool light powers?” The brunette threw up his hands before crossing them once more across his chest and fixing Tommy with a piercing glare.

“Oh-oh-ohh, okay, so. Uh. A lot to unpack there, hah, where to start!” Tommy clapped his hands together loudly, completely disregarding the sofa arm in favour of tapping his leg anxiously.

“Well… How about we go in chronological order! That- Sure, yeah, that’ll work! Okay. So. Ha. When was I going to tell you I was Theseus? Well, ah, some point in between a year and… never! Eh, yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, safety ‘n all. Now, next question! Um, why? Well, that one’s easy, I’m simply too amazing! Yup, so f*ckin’ amazing that I felt the need to grace the entire SMP with my presence! ‘N also ‘cause the heroes are bitches and I actually have some ‘alf-decent morals, surprise surprise!”

Tommy waved his arms around in some half-assed attempt at jazz hands, wincing at the unimpressed and vaguely concerned look on Tubbo’s face. “Oh, ‘n the whole parents thing? Nah, not an issue! Never so much as been an issue! Big man like me, no parents needed, eh?”

Tommy was rambling. He was rambling, dropping letters, knee jerking up and down like a puppet on a string, fingers back to drumming the same pattern against the sofa arm, mouth running faster than his mind could even attempt to comprehend. Tubbo, now very clearly concerned and looking at Tommy with a caring half-frown, leant over and placed his hand atop Tommy’s own, smiling reassuringly.

“In your own time, bossman. No rush. I’m not mad, I just want you to explain. And the f*ck d’you mean ‘no parents’?” He laughed anxiously, unsuccessfully trying to lighten the mood as he shook his head. Tommy took a shuddering breath and continued.

“I- yeah. Parents? Nope! Not an issue. Ha. Never knew the f*ckers, y’know Tommy isn’t even my legal name! Not Tommy, or Thomas, or anything like that. Y’know how weird that is? Don’t even know my real f*ckin’ name. Woo! Fun! Not even a hint of a responsible adult in my life ‘til Eret showed up. Y’know, he’s probably the closest thing I have to a parent. How sad is that, huh? Our boss, the only semi-responsible adult in my entire life.” He hiccuped, scrunching up his face in an attempt to hide the way his eyes dampened, trailing off quietly and staring at the floor.

Tubbo shifted where he sat, the silence that fell between them bordering on uncomfortable, and placed a tentative arm around his friend's shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay man. You’re here now, I don’t know what happened before but you’re here now and you’re safe. Well… Actually, maybe not exactly ‘safe’ considering you go parading round dodging bullets every bloody night, but close enough. You’re safe. You have me, I’ll make sure it stays like that.”

AWWW

TUBBO/pos 😭

I love tehm so f*cking much

clingyduo fluff yippee

mmmm yummy comfort

Gods I love them so so much

I AM BACK WITH ANOTHER ROUND OF “IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO THEM I WILL KILL THE WORLD AND THEN MYSELF”

Oohhh boy we got another one lads

lmaooo

tmmy7

o7-ing in advance

o7

o7 dide

o7

o7

Shaking away the almost indiscernible voices, Tommy laughed wetly, lightly shoving the other and wiping his eyes as he did so. “Pretty sure I’m who’s meant to be the one saying that to you, big man.” Tubbo rolled his eyes, flipping Tommy off with a snort as he leapt up from the couch, pulling the taller boy up with him. “Oh piss off, I can protect you too! I mean did you even look properly at what I did to your glasses! They’re so much better now, plus everyone’s colour coded now. I’m a f*cking genius, don’t even try.” he giggled childishly, grabbing Tommy’s arm and pulling him to his feet, making a last-second decision and twirling him around unexpectedly.

Tommy, apprehensive at first, quickly gave up his reservation and allowed himself to be spun around. Then, when they stumbled to a halt, Tommy made a stupid and adrenaline-fueled decision. He pulled Tubbo into a very simple waltz. Tubbo stood dumbly for a second, confusion clear on his face, before attempting to follow Tommy’s footsteps awkwardly. It was incredibly strange at first, but the pair quickly broke into peals of laughter and soon enough they were whirling round the cramped room, dancing to silent music.

They practically shrieked with laughter, treading on each other's feet constantly and often tripping to the floor, for what felt like hours. Tommy had never felt so… free. He smiled impossibly wider, grabbing Tubbo’s wrist clumsily and trying to teach him a basic waltz. They failed miserably, as Tubbo proved to have absolutely awful coordination, bashing into each other and falling over in fits of giggles before collapsing back onto the sofa. They sat in silence for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before bursting into boisterous howls of laughter every time their eyes met.

“H- Wh-” Tubbo held up a finger, waiting to get his breath back, before continuing. “Where- Where the f*ck. Did you learn to waltz, bossman?” He chuckled, throwing his head against the back of the couch. “I swear- Learning everything about you today. Honestly, I think I’m more surprised about the dancing than about you being Theseus!”

Tommy snorted, and he felt rather than saw the shorter boy curl up against him, fluffy brown hair tickling his chin. His eyes were closed, chest moving rapidly in an attempt to regain his breath. Once he was sufficiently calm; once he was certain he wouldn’t break out into a fit of giggles halfway through his words; once he had relished the joy and energy of the moment, knowing what he was about to say would no doubt dampen the mood; Tommy broke the peaceful silence.

“My br- a friend. A friend of mine taught me. From when I was young. He- yeah. Yeah.” Tommy drifted for a moment, thinking. Tubbo let the silence go on, sleepy rather than uncomfortable, and it was Tommy who spoke again.

“f*ckkk, I’m tired. Ugh, and I still have patrol later.” He let a hand flop dramatically onto his face, half tempted to just curl up where he was and sleep. He could just sleep… No, he had patrol. It was only… what, just gone six in the evening, but always good to get a head start. He groaned, reluctantly attempting to extract himself from where Tubbo had attached himself to his torso. The brunette mumbled, holding tighter, and Tommy chuckled fondly. “Clingy bastard, I need to head out. Patrol ‘n all, I got a three month streak goin’ at the minute! Just lemme-” He tried to pull away again, lifting Tubbo’s hand away from his chest. Tubbo just scrunched up his face indignantly, batting at Tommy. “Take a f*ckn’ break, man. Three f*ckn’ months, y’need bet’r sleep. J’st. C’mon, Tom.” His words slurred with sleep, barely comprehensible, Tubbo squinted a brown eye open to glare at his friend.

“I- dude! Come off it, I’ll only be gone a couple hours! I’ll get in early tonight, promise. Deal? Y’know what they say, revolution waits for no man!”

Tubbo just shook his head, planting his hand firmly back across Tommy’s chest. “Nuh-uh bossman. You’re stayin’ right the f*ck ‘ere ‘n gettin’ some much-needed f*ckn’ sleep! The rev’lution c’n wait f’r us, wouldn’t f*ckn’ kill it.” And with that, the shorter boy closed his eyes firmly.

Tommy waited a minute, just to see if Tubbo was joking, but it seemed his best friend was serious. The winged boy poked his cheek experimentally, earning nothing but a sleepy groan and some half-hearted muttering. He deflated into the couch, rubbing the hand not trapped beneath Tubbo down his face.

Well, he was stuck now. Tubbo was like a cat. He knew the ram boy would cuss him out if he made the comparison aloud, but Tommy thought it was pretty accurate. It felt cruel to try and move with him curled there asleep. And, Tommy supposed, he was kind of right. He probably did need some sort of rest. It wasn’t as if the city couldn’t handle being without him for just one night. There were others, vigilantes and heroes who’d be out doing their own patrols. He knew for a fact that Porphyrion would have it covered, but he sent off a quick text just in case. It would be fine, though, the lower SMP could cope without Theseus for one evening. Surely one night, just one, couldn’t hurt.

So it was with little hesitation that Tommy relaxed into the sofa. And, when sleep inevitably beckoned, when Tommy’s eyes grew heavy and he couldn't help but yawn, he didn’t even bother trying to stop himself as he drifted off into unconsciousness.

Chapter 8: We Talked, We Talked About it All Night (We Thought, We Thought We'd Make it Alive)

Chapter Text

“Ok, so just put your hand on my back. A little upper if you can reach…Yeah! You got it! Then I’ll put my hand on your shoulder, and we both hold hands with the other hand and hold ‘em outways. There, jus’ like that! Then the steps are where it gets a bit confusin’, we step in a kinda squarish way. Like… Okay, go forward on left, you remember which is left? Yeah, there. Then bring right to the same place- Woah- Not quite, then right one forward and left to the same place. Then repeat. You got it? Good job, that’s it!”

“Eyy we’re doin’ it! We’re doin’ it! .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕..̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑, look, I’m so good at this, such a f*ckin- such a big man! I’m so good I don’t even need a teacher! Look at me go! I- wha- sh*t!”

He fell to the floor, whining as .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ chuckled fondly at his pain before reaching a hand down to pull him up. “Yeah, you’re doin’ great bud. Little more concentration on the feet next time and you’ll have it mastered!”

He preened at the praise, glowing like a firefly. .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕..̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ chuckled again, shaking his head, and leant against one of the damp stone walls. Tommy grinned gleefully. “Yeah! I’m gonna f*ckin- f*ckin’ win! I’ll win all the waltzes! I’ll be as good as f*ckin’, what’s-her-name! Trepiscar or somethin’!” He almost shouted, waving his hands around ferociously enough that he almost hit .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕..̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ square in the face. “Terpsicore, Thes. Muse of dance and chorus. And you know how the gods feel about bein’ challenged, so I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Rolling his eyes, he swore loudly, voice echoing off the stone walls, and .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕..̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ looked at him like he regretted every curse word he’d ever taught him. Which, to be fair, he probably did.

They slept in shifts, and this was his turn to be awake. He scraped away at the wall with a shard of stone, a candle half-drawn. .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷͒͆.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ said that people outside got candles on the anniversary of their arrival, and it was almost five years since he’d first been put in the cell. Apparently, he’d hardly been able to walk at first, so little that he just crawled around and cried. .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ had found it beyond annoying back then, but he was a big man now! Seven, according to .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ . That sounded big, although still not as big as .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ ‘s eleven. .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ said that wasn’t very big either, but it sounded big enough to him.

He wasn’t sure who’d told .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷͒͆͋͘.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̓̀̿.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ about the candles and yearly ceremony, or the numbers, or taught him how to waltz, but .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷͒.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ always refered to him as Bad. Which didn’t make sense, because bad wasn’t good, but .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ spoke as if Bad was very good. When he realised it was confusing him, .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̃.̵̛̓̀̿.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ started calling him Charon instead. That didn’t really sound much more comforting, especially since .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷͒͆͘.̴̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̓̉̑ had told him the myth of Charon, and if the ferryman of death was teaching .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼̓̉̑ how to dance then that probably didn’t bode well.

But still, .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮̓̉̑ talked highly of this “Bad” person, and so he liked them as well. And if .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̛̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̓̉̑ said that Bad said that people got candles, then who was he to argue?

Heavy footsteps could be heard from the hall, and he twisted to face the door, torn between snarling and staying silent. His head pounded, and the voices only got louder as the familiar suit-clad man came into view. The keys jingled, barely discernible over the din, and before he could even begin to react, the horned figure was reaching a hand into the cage and grabbing at a chunk of pink hair. He shrieked, attempting to lunge forward, the chain at his ankle holding him back. It had less pull than usual, the horned man having tied him back instead of the duck-guy that usually did it. The man reached down, unlocking .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ ‘s chain and pulling him up.

“.̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̓̉̑! .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑! Let him go you f*ckin prick-!”

The cage door slammed, and he slumped back against the wall.

It wasn’t a worry, not really, .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̓̉̑ would be back. Scraped up, bloodied, likely shaking, but back. .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̓̀̿.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮̓̉̑ was resilient like that, a war machine. Insanely good, and he would never have survived so long without him. So he knew .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̓̉̑ would be back.

The walls. His one held eleven sh*ttily drawn candles now, .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷͒͆͋͘.̴͖̘̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̓̉̑ ‘s held fifteen, the most recent being added not too long ago. Stone, hard, the uneven floor pressing into his back. Iron bars, just poking into the corner of his vision. .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̓̉̑ had been gone longer than usual, and he thought he could hear faraway shouts. It was dark, and he was tired.

The ground rocked, pulling him from his exhausted stupor. Familiar pink in his vision as he was shaken fully awake by something loud. An explosion rocking his cell. He pulled away from the wall, chained leg holding him back. He sobbed, clawing at the wall. He was so close. .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̓̀̿.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̓̉̑ was still knelt over him, talking at him hurriedly. “Thes- f*ck, Tommy, wait here, I’ll find you after- I promise I’ll be back. Tommy! Tommy, listen, I promise I’ll be back, okay? I promise!”

And then .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷͒͆͋͘.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̓̉̑ was running, away, down the hall, pink hair blending interchangeably with the brownish grey of dust and stone falling around him, the red of bloodstains across the floor, the rusted silver of the chains that kept him from freedom, like Tantalus kept from the fruit tree. Stupidly, the only thing he could think of was myths.

Did this moment remind him more of the story of Tantalus, never allowed the thing he craved most? Or maybe Alcyone and Ceyx, doomed to suffer tragedy. Perhaps even Daedalus and Icarus, one destined to fly and the other doomed to fall. Even years later, he’d still agree that the three fit.

And then a new figure appeared, equally familiar but instilling a deep fear in him instead of the comforting calm that .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮̓̉̑ ‘s presence provided. The man in the suit grabbed him roughly, as always.

“Oi! Get off me you f*cking wanker! f*cking dick’ead, put me down! Let me f*cking go you piece of sh*t!” He screeched, biting and kicking and throwing every curse word he knew at the man. Hoping his brother would hear. Hoping anyone would hear. Deep down he knew it was useless, the man would never let him go. It was all he could do to try and clutch his books to his chest, watching the candles he’d grown to love vanishing around the corner.

He didn’t stop screaming. He knew it was beyond futile, knew it was pointless. But maybe, just maybe, someone, anyone, whoever it was that had been mad enough to blast right through The Pit, would hear. Would save him.

Boy was Tommy naive.

-0-

Techno had been called many things in his life. A bastard, a lunatic, a savage. All three at once, when he’d switched out Wilbur’s conditioner for green hair dye. A murderer, a psychotic traitor, a monster. Any insult under the sun, he had probably had it thrown at him at some point or another.

But he had other names too. Proper names.

Of course he did, there was no doubt his parents had once named him something, although he was unlikely to ever find out what, given the fact he'd been taken from them so early in his life that he didn’t even remember their faces. But his first name, at least to his memory, was TE9.

Why The Pit had chosen that, Techno wasn’t sure. And, to be frank, he wasn’t in anywhere near a good enough mental state to consider the idea that they’d kidnapped enough kids to get through the entire alphabet plus some by the time they got to him. That was a sickening thought, although Techno was sad to say it wouldn’t exactly be surprising.

His next name was another chosen for him by The Pit, picked out specially as he slowly began rising through the ranks of fighters. “The Blade” was honestly more of a title than a name, an alias given due to his skill and speed with a sword. Fitting, given he wound up years later helping take down The Pit due to those same skills.

The next name, his final name, his name, had been chosen by his brother. He remembered the day with clarity, the pair sat in their cell one cold evening. His brother had been no older than 6, and Techno himself had been only 10. His brother had asked, babyish face scrunched in confusion, an expression Techno still had burned into his mind, why the people running The Pit only ever referred to him as “TO3”. Techno had co*cked his head sideways, and admitted after a moment's thought that he didn’t know.

He’d never really questioned it, nothing beyond asking Bad about his name once, years ago. The demon had just shook his head, muttering something about regulations. Techno hadn’t bothered to ask again, and he told his brother as such. His brother had scoffed at that, calling it stupid, saying they should make their own names.

So they did.

And that’s how Technoblade was born.

It had taken a lot of debating, hours of going round in circles, but eventually they’d each decided to use their letters, TE and TO respectively, and then add the number of letters corresponding to the numbers at the end. For Techno, that had been nine. For his brother, it was only three. “Technoblade” seemed reasonable, combining his Pit alias with an easily-nicknameable prefix. A perfect fit. In the end, it had taken them a surprisingly short amount of time to come up with the name, and it quickly became permanent.

Of course, his brother had given him many other names in the years of their youth, ranging from “Apollo”, which Techno had audibly laughed at, to “Deimos”, which, he supposed, had stayed in its own way, and even “Dad” one time when Techno had explained what the word meant. But Technoblade was the one that really stuck.

He’d since cut off the latter half of the name, no longer wanting to associate himself with The Pit, but he’d never left it completely. Never entirely abandoned his brother, even after the heroes saved him. That day, the day he was rescued, the day his world imploded, Techno had promised to come back for him.

He did.

The bit that really hurt most was that it only took him five minutes. Just five, five minutes to get out and find a hero. Five minutes too long, he would soon discover.

He’d dragged the – at the time – recently graduated hero, Ares, through the maze of corridors he’d grown up in, but he was too late. The cell, excruciatingly familiar, was empty. His brother was already gone. Stolen, as he would later bitterly recount when the time came to give his statement. He was fifteen when he was saved, the brother he’d left behind only eleven. He’d be fifteen himself now, assuming he’d kept the same birthday they’d decided on. Almost sixteen, actually.

After so long, Techno was still determined to keep his promise.

Even years after the event, years after he’d escaped, years after he’d begun putting The Pit behind him, working through his issues, he never forgot. When the heroes finally tracked down where The Pit was now keeping their fighters victims, Techno fought tooth and nail to be allowed to accompany the others on their mission to liberate it. That was just over two years ago, and Techno being not even seventeen at the time, he wasn’t legally allowed on missions yet.

Still, that didn’t stop him from trying. He begged to go with, arguing and screaming to be allowed to help, to be allowed to save his brother. And it took a while, many months of pleading and planning, before the others finally caved and decided they were ready.

It was a cold day, he remembered. Mid-March, the 23rd, to be exact. Little over a fortnight before his brother would officially be a teenager.

He’d never been more nervous, more angry, more excited. The voices roared for blood, and, despite his years of keeping them contained, Techno didn’t even try to quell them. He was finally going to see his brother, hopefully reunite with him in time to celebrate his thirteenth birthday. After so long, he would be able to pull his brother into a hug, introduce him to his newfound family, show him around the city he’d begun thinking of as home. He already knew that Wilbur would love him, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Phil would adopt him before the end of the day. Techno couldn’t wait to see him again. To buy him new books. To show him the sun, moon, and everything in between.

But, much to Techno’s dismay, (too light of a word, in his opinion, to describe the grief and fury coursing through his veins as he gutted The Pit from the inside out) his brother was nowhere to be found as he tore the ring apart. Instead, the only vague satisfaction he got from the outing was embedding an axe into the face of the fiancé of The Pit’s runner, the main man himself having dipped as soon as he got wind of an attack.

Evidently, he hadn’t felt like sticking around long enough to find out what his favourite attack dog had grown into, no doubt having crawled off to some hole so he could start up another scheme. Still, there was some small satisfaction to be gained from seeing the ram-hybrid's fiancé with half his face gouged in, and the voices certainly appreciated it.

Even now, a further three years since that failed bust, he hadn’t given up hope. Tommy was out there somewhere, he was sure of it. And Techno would track him down if it was the last thing he did.

Chapter 9: For Every Broken Promise (There's a Friend Who's At My Side)

Chapter Text

“Ughhh,” Tommy groaned out a string of curses, sitting up with a huff and stretching his arms above his head. “f*ckin- Balls, what’s the time?” He called into the apartment, and it was mere moments before he received an answer. “Eight thirty, give or take. Don’t worry, I’ve messaged Eret to let her know we’ll be late, he said they hope you get a good rest. I also told him happy birthday.” Tubbo popped his head round the corner, mixing a bowl of… something (porridge being Tommy’s best guess) with one hand, Tommy’s phone clutched in the other.

“Oi! Prick, gimme my phone back!” Tommy lunged across the sofa, snagging his phone away from Tubbo’s porridge-covered fingers. “Okay, when you’re done with your food we should probably get going. Don’t want to get fired, gotta stay on that grind, you know?”

He yawned, pulling his shoes on and waiting by the door impatiently. Tubbo scoffed, rolling his eyes and grabbing a pear from the fruit bowl before stuffing it forcefully into Tommy's hands. “Come off it Toms, you know full-well Eret would never fire you. She loves you like family, dude!” Tommy just hummed, accepting the pear and biting into it. He made a face. The pear was definitely off, but not the worst thing he'd ever eaten. Swallowing the chunk of pear, he scoffed slightly. Sure, Eret had always been pretty tolerant of Tommy’s bullsh*t, but no doubt there was a limit to their kindness. Tubbo didn’t know what he was on about, Eret didn’t ‘love him like family’. Tubbo was just being kind.

BRooo and you say tubbo needs betr self esteem

if Eret doesnt see u as family then im not a disembodied voice

YEAH WHAT THEY SAID

Self-care grr

There was a train that left at eight forty, and, with a bit of rushing, they were just about able to make it on in time. The journey was just as long as ever, and there were multiple moments that Tommy considered just flying to work instead. The train just as cramped and sweaty as usual, and Tommy was pretty sure he was sitting on some gum, but thankfully the whole experience was made slightly less tedious by Tubbo’s company. The pair talked the entire time, Tommy laughing loudly enough to earn some dirty looks from other commuters. It was good. Tommy had almost forgotten that Tubbo wasn’t a permanent resident at his apartment. Not yet, at least. Hopefully, that would soon be fixed if Tommy had anything to say about it. Which he did.

“So… Tubbo. How long are you planning to stay for? In ou- in, uh, in the apartment, I mean?”

Tubbo seemed to deflate slightly, his previously relaxed posture tensing. “Oh. Oh, yeah. I’ll- Yeah, I’ll clear out soon, don’t wor-”

“No! Gods, no, Tubbo you f*cking idiot! I want you to stay, dufus!” Tommy interrupted, shoving Tubbo lightly on the shoulder. He shook his head as Tubbo frowned confusedly. “I like having you around, you dumbass. My gods, you have some serious self-esteem issues big man!” He smiled, and wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulder. Tubbo blinked in confusion, and then laughed slightly, leaning into the arm.

“Well, let’s see if you’re still saying that in a week, 'cause you’ve done it now. No getting rid of me, bossman.” Tubbo half-joked, still eyeing Tommy wearily as if prepared for him to retract his statement. “Tubs, Tubster, Tubbo, that is literally the least of my concerns! ‘Oh no, the friend who I’ve been trying to convince to move in for months finally moves in? What a travesty! Simply disastrous! Tartarus himself couldn’t think up a worse punishment!'”

Tubbo giggled, pushing Tommy playfully as he did so. “Why do you do that so much?” He sounded quizzical, and Tommy took a moment to consider.

“What d’you mean, big man?”

Tubbo waved an arm around. “You go all… Old, and start making mythology references. What’s up with that, I never took you for a mythology buff.”

“Oh. My brother used to tell me myths all the time, it kinda just became normal.” Tommy shrugged, not liking where the conversation was going. He’d never mentioned anything about this to Tubbo before, and there was no doubt he’d ask-

“Brother?! Why did I not know you had a f*cking brother! Oh I have to meet him, get him to spill all your embarrassing baby stories!”

And there it was. Fun.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll introduce you someday.” Tommy hummed, knowing full well he was lying. It was a bit hard to introduce Tubbo to someone who'd been dead for years. He shifted awkwardly, never having felt more relieved than he did the moment the train shuddered to a halt. Saved by the bell, or in this case, the station. “Right! Let’s go, that’s my emotional talk done for the day!” He hopped up, dragging Tubbo towards the exit.

The walk to Eret’s was quicker than usual, or at least seemed so, most of the trip spent chasing each other down the street. The cafe was already open and bustling, and the two slowed to a walk as they entered. Almost every table was full, only standing room left. The line to the counter was long, and Tommy had to put actual effort into weaving between the customers. He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing the only reason it was so crowded today was that Eret was working alone.

Still, that didn’t stop Eret from rounding the counter and hurrying towards the two boys as she caught sight of them, earning a number of disgruntled hums from customers. “Tommy! Tubbo! If you two want to go wait in the back, I’ll close for lunch a bit early.”

And, true to their word, half an hour later the three were lounging around the kitchen. Tommy had taken his usual place, hopping up onto one of the counters. Tubbo had also returned to some sense or normality, sitting on a patch of floor almost hidden under the table. Eret, like the boring adult xey were, was sitting on a chair. Granted, he was sitting on it backwards, but still. Boring adult.

The cafe was closed, the last of the customers having cleared out, despite it only being a little past midday. Tommy still felt a little bad about it, apologising profusely about Eret’s lost revenue, but his boss just waved him away with a smile, stating as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “You two are much more important than a few hours pay.”

And if that made Tommy tear up a little, then Eret either didn’t notice or tactfully ignored it. Not like that happened anyway, Tommy was too big of a man to be caught off guard by something like that. Obviously.

Eret chose to use the time wisely, fussing over the teenagers profusely. He entirely banned Tubbo from working for the day, ignoring the brunette's huffing and insistence that his arm was back to normal. Tommy they were more lenient with, and he was allowed to work the till as long as he promised to tell Eret if he needed to take a break. Which, reluctantly, he agreed to.

Despite the early lunch, the cafe remained closed almost until they’d usually finish their break, but Eret didn’t seem to care. Eventually, once she was satisfied that both Tubbo and Tommy had been sufficiently cared for, the cafe was reopened for the afternoon. Tommy took his usual post behind the counter, the normality of the action comforting in a strange way.

He’d barely been at work for an hour, with only three left before closing, when a familiar voice broke through the buzzing talk. “Tommy! I tried to drop by yesterday, but the cafe was closed! Did you hear about the fight on Wednesday?”

WILBAHHH

eyyy Wil!

tmmyPogChamp

Oh look who decided to show up

dude chillllll

tmmyPogU

BRO??? Wilbur wa-

Message deleted by moderator

Oh come on

Sorry mate, you know the rules.

Ugh

Tommy hummed in acknowledgement. “Oh, hey Wilbur. The usual I presume?”

The taller man nodded absently, leaning his arms on the counter, and Tommy scoffed at the way his coat billowed behind him. No matter how many times Wilbur wore it, Tommy never failed to find his ankle-length jacket pretentious as f*ck. That coupled with the beanie and gold-rimmed glasses made Wilbur look like he’d stepped right out of an anime. Or a meeting for local tories. Still, not his problem. Wilbur continued speaking as Tommy started on the coffee, cursing at the machine.

“Yeah, thanks. Anyway, the fight. Over at Mellohi Mall? I was ‘round there at the time, it looked nuts! From what I heard, the heroes were able to reign it in quickly enough though.”

“Huh? Oh, that. Yeah, I was there.” He went for nonchalance, which was maybe not the best way to break the fact that he’d narrowly escaped death only two days prior. Not that it was a big issue, he was clearly fine, but that didn’t stop Wilbur’s eyes widening minutely. He ignored the man, grinning as he finally got the coffee machine to work before he continued. “The heroes were f*cking useless, wasn’t it literally Actaeon who was wrecking stuff? Nah, the vigilantes were way more help. Midas was there, y’know, and was the one to get all the civilians out. The heroes didn’t do sh*t.”

He spat the words with passion, vividly recalling the fear he’d felt as he helplessly watched Actaeon almost kill his friend right in front of him. “Well,” He reconsidered. “Deimos wasn’t too bad, he was actually doing something at least.” Tommy remembered the way the hero saved Tubbo with no hesitation. Of course, it was literally his job. But still. Better than about 90% of the other heroes, so that had to count for something.

“Oh, not a fan of heroes then, Toms?” Wilbur seemed to shift awkwardly, while Tommy just laughed. “Nope, most of them are pretentious pricks. Some are alright, I guess, but vigilantes are better.”

“Hmm. You like Midas, then? You mentioned them earlier.” Wilbur probed the question cautiously. Tommy could understand, most people had very… heated, to put it one way, opinions on the different powered people running around, whether they be heroes, villains, or vigilantes. Tommy had been yelled at enough times for grumbling about a hero just a tad too loud to understand this.

“Yeah! Midas is awesome, I’ve wor- seen them around a bit before, they’re chill.”

“Cool! Cool, cool. Midas sounds cool. That’s… Yeah, that’s awesome.” Wilbur clapped his hands, and Tommy stared at him in confusion. Huh. Maybe Wil was just high, either on caffeine or something else judging by his bloodshot eyes, but he was still being weird. Still, not Tommy’s problem unless the f*cker keeled over.

Which, actually, didn’t seem too unlikely.

With a concerned gaze, he directed Wilbur over to the closest available chair and kept an eye on the guy for the rest of his stay. The brunette was hunched over on his laptop, occasionally grumbling at the screen. His face, or at least what Tommy could see of it beneath his hair, looked pale, with dark bags under his eyes. He seemed to wince in pain whenever he shifted too much, and Tommy had half a mind to ask about it. He didn’t though, as that would be weird and probably an invasion of privacy. While Tommy often liked to fool himself and pretend that Wilbur was his friend, he had no doubt the other man would think strangely of this. Wilbur was just a customer, and Tommy had no business being this friendly towards him. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from worrying.

Not even Wilbur leaving, little over forty minutes later, set his mind at ease.

Still, there was nothing he could do for the dude. Tommy put the burrowing worry to the back of his mind with a sigh, he still had a few hours barista-ing to do. No point getting side tracked now.

Chapter 10: Without Light, There is Darkness

Chapter Text

The apartment was ice cold when they finally got back, the landlord evidently having made the – in Tommy’s opinion, stupid – decision to shut off the heating despite the crisp January air. Tommy folded his arms across his chest, shivering slightly. Well, if that’s what he gets for living in an apartment in District 47 for cheap, then so be it.

Both Tommy and Tubbo were bone dead tired, a mix of running around District 9 for almost two hours after their shift and the events of the last few days still weighing heavy on both their minds and bodies; Tubbo’s arm not quite back to its full use, despite his claims, and Tommy still reluctant to let the shorter boy out of his sight.

The evening was cold, sky already darkening outside, and the chill in the air rendered the perfect excuse for the two teenagers to collapse onto the sofa, Tubbo not even bothering to crawl into the bed that he’d spent the last few nights in. Instead, Tommy flicked the TV on and pulled a blanket up over them both, flicking through channels boredly. It didn’t take long for them to choose what to watch, some late-night channel playing disney reruns.

Tommy leant his head on Tubbo’s shoulder, the brunette pressed close to dull the cold. The film currently playing was Mulan, and Tubbo almost had a fit upon hearing that Tommy had never seen it. He insisted upon watching it the whole way through, but both boys were asleep long before the credits began rolling. They’d no doubt have neck pains when they woke up, the uncomfortable position they were in not doing wonders for either of their spines, but that didn’t stop them from curling up closer.

-0-

Tommy was the first to wake, alarm blaring loudly. He sat up, feeling a twinge in his neck as he did. Oh, letting himself fall asleep like that was definitely a mistake. No use complaining now though, and his back popped as he stretched his arms up in a massive yawn. It was Friday. After work, it would be the weekend. The first weekend with Tubbo at the apartment. Tommy… Tommy was excited, if anything. A little apprehensive, yes, but mostly excited. It would be like one long sleepover! Granted, he’d never actually had a sleepover before, but they sounded fun.

Speaking of Tubbo, Tommy did his best to wriggle himself away from the boy's tight grip. He was somehow still asleep despite the alarm that had been going off for over a minute, and Tommy let him sleep. They didn’t need to leave for about half an hour, and Tommy could make some breakfast without waking him.

And so he did, grabbing two of his three total bowls from the cupboard and yanking the fridge open. Never had he been so glad that he’d got three sets of everything when he first moved in. One for him, one if he had a friend round, and one if another broke. Neither of the final two had happened, up until now. He wrinkled his nose at the milk carton. He’d grabbed it nearly three weeks ago from the store, no doubt it was long past the use by date. Sniffing it, his theory was confirmed at the rancid smell invading his nose. Tommy gagged, gingerly placing the carton by the sink.

He’d clean it out later, finding something edible was his main issue. Tommy surveyed his kitchen dubiously, realising that he probably needed to go on another food run soon. Especially if Tubbo was becoming a permanent resident. Checking the time, he sighed and grabbed some only slightly bruised pears from the lacklustre fruit bowl.

LLLLL

you need to get food king

YEAHHH SELF-CARE BITCH

ugh why are we shoutig

its too early for this sh*t

Okay go get ready for work

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. He didn’t have time to change, and it wasn’t like he had a set of clean clothes anyway. Instead, Tommy just bit into his pear and shook Tubbo awake. Which proved to be a mistake, and he earned a pillow in the face for his efforts. Still, Tubbo pulled himself up with a yawn, snatching the pear that Tommy threw at him gratefully.

“It’s quarter to seven, bee boy, fifteen minutes 'til we need to go.” Tommy called out as he meandered his way towards the front door, pulling on his shoes. Tubbo grumbled quietly, finishing his food before heading into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later, looking semi-presentable considering he was still in the same clothes that he’d been wearing at the mall incident, and joined Tommy at the door. “Oh, yeah, we should stop by your house some time. Grab your sh*t so you have more than one set of clothes.” Tommy leant against the wall, back creaking. Tubbo seemed to consider for a moment, shrugging.

“If you’re moving in permanently, of course!” Tommy tacked onto the end, cursing himself for forgetting the uncertainty of that topic. Despite their conversation the previous day, Tommy still wasn’t quite sure how his friend felt about the whole idea, and while he’d have Tubbo moved in about eight months ago if he could, it wasn’t his choice to make. “...You are moving in permanently, right?”

Tubbo didn’t even hesitate, nodding vigorously. “Yes! Yes, I’m moving in permanently. My apartment now, f*cker!” He tackled Tommy with a laugh, sending the pair hard to the floor.

-0-

Almost two hours later, Tommy pushed his way into the café, loudly calling out as he did so. “Oi Eret! Guess who’s actually on time for work today!”

He swung his bag down behind the counter, Tubbo making his way into the kitchen where he abandoned his own rucksack. Their boss was somewhere near the ovens, the clanging of trays ringing through the building attesting to this. Eret swung his head around the corner, grinning at the two boys, a tray of cookies balanced in her arms. “Morning, you two! Tom, do you mind opening and getting started in the front? Tubbo, I need your help in the kitchen, we’re a little behind schedule with the biscuits.”

Tommy nodded, waving to Eret in greeting and making his way towards the front doors. He flipped the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’, turning on the news as he did and leaning on the counter; the others could be heard pottering around in the kitchen, but Tommy barely had a minute to soak in the relaxed atmosphere before the first few customers were bustling in.

The morning rush was long, the longest of the three most popular time frames, and Tommy was sick of brewing coffee almost immediately. He saw some familiar faces, the one-armed owner of Snowzone who Tommy could never remember the name of and the lady who ran one of the stalls down the road to name a few. Wilbur didn’t show, but he never usually dropped in before lunch so that wasn’t exactly strange. What was strange, however, was a recognisable flash of pink hair approaching the front of the line.

“Niki?” She reached the front, considering the menu above Tommy’s head, and smiled warmly. “Morning, Tommy. Could I get… a cold mocha and a velvet coffee for takeout, please?” He nodded, pulling out a pair of paper coffee cups.

“Yeah, that’ll be £7.50. I thought you had a place up in District 3, how come you're all the way over here?”

He made polite – though genuine, why was Niki all the way down in 9 when her bookshop was up in 3? – conversation as the coffee machine whirred worryingly. Thank f*ck it was close to the end of morning rush, Tommy had no clue what he’d do if the coffee machine decided to konk out right in the middle. “Oh, the shop doesn’t open ‘til midday on Fridays, we don’t really get so much of a morning rush for some reason.” Niki laughed lightly, shifting so she could peer around Tommy. “Is Eret in today? I need to talk to them about something.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s just in the back with Tu- with my coworker, I don’t know if you’ve met him before. Tubbo? I’m sure Eret probably mentioned him. Anyway, if you know how to get to the kitchen, they’re just in there. Here’s your coffee!” Tommy slid the two cups across the counter, Niki handing him a ten pound note before thanking him and disappearing towards the kitchen.

No one else memorable showed up that morning, Tommy was half-asleep by the time lunch rolled around, mind consumed by the monotony of taking orders and making drinks. Time seemed to slip through his fingers like sand in an hourglass, and it took Tubbo a good three calls before he finally turned towards the other teenager in the room.

“Tommy! You good there, man? Eret was going to tell us something.” The brunette waved a hand in his face, grinning in a half-worry.

“Hm? Yeah, yeah! All good king, just a bit spacey today. Anyway, sorry, what were you saying Big E?”

Eret tilted their head, seemingly stuck somewhere between knowing that Tommy would just deflect from her questions and wanting to ask anyway. Evidently, they decided the best course of action was just to ignore the strangeness, which Tommy thought to be a wise choice. In his omniscient and entirely humble opinion.

“Well, you boys know how the cafe has been rather understaffed, as of late?” Eret started, and, noting the flash of guilt and fear that crossed both of his employees faces, was quick to rectify xeir wording. “Which is by no means your fault! And I am obviously not blaming either of you for the recent events that caused this. But, I feel it sort of brought to light how stressful it can be with just the three of us running a relatively well-known cafe in one of the higher districts. And I’m already overworking you two, Tubbo you’re just sixteen and Tommy you’re- well. You’re ‘eighteen’, but that’s besides the point. Either way, you two are overworked here, in for full 9-5’s when you should both really be at school.” They hesitated, seemingly unsure of how to continue. Tubbo raised an eyebrow sceptically, a very obvious motion for her to continue.

Tommy wasn’t so subtle in his fear, the idea of the only stable parental-forward-slash-sibling (Tommy had long ago come up with the term “pibling”, but that wasn’t exactly something that could be shoved into everyday conversation) figure in his life throwing him out clouding his rationality, and he broke in loudly before Eret could finish. “You’re not f*cking firing us right?”

He blurted out, hand slamming up to cover his mouth a few seconds too late. His boss started, eyes wide as she registered his words, and soon enough was scrambling over themself to smooth out this miscommunication.

“No! Skies, no. Never, Tommy. I just thought it would be nice, helpful, to get someone else in sometimes, not necessarily a full-time thing, most of the applications I got were kids about your age, so they’d be in school, but just for a few hours in the afternoon sometimes. How does that sound?”

Both boys seemed to consider the question, furrowing their brows almost in unison. Tommy was the first to speak, as he so often was.

Hesitantly, he blinked a moment, trying to find the right words. “I- yeah, that’s fine by me. Gods, thought you were firing me for a minute there big man! But as said, I’m chill with it if Tubs is.”

Tubbo, too, nodded, humming quietly. “Yup, sounds good. Got any ideas who it’ll be yet? Any interviews lined up?” He laughed boisterously, not at all perturbed by the idea of a new co-worker.

Tommy joined the laughter, quickly followed by Eret. “Actually,” They spoke through the laughter, Tommy and Tubbo both quieting to listen. “I did have someone in mind. He’s a little older than you, Tubbo, just by a few months. Since you’re both alright with it, I’ll give him a call so he can come in for a taster on Monday. If I’m remembering right, his name was Purpled.”

Chapter 11: But Without Darkness, There is Nothing

Chapter Text

Huh. Tommy mulled the thought over in his mind. A new co-worker. Now, logically, he knew there was no good reason for his fear. He was sure the new guy would be perfectly nice, and if he wasn’t, for whatever reason that may be, then Tommy was confident that Eret would listen to his pleas to get the guy (Purpled, apparently, Tommy needed to get used to using that unfamiliar name) removed. And, well, if in some unfathomable situation this ‘Purpled’ character was someone from Tommy’s past, then he supposed his fear would be justified. But the chances of that? Next to none. In all his years of freedom, never, not even once, had Tommy come across anyone he recognised from that place.

He was more than certain that Purpled would be a perfectly normal teenager, probably a bit grouchy and moody, but not a murderer, or a superhero, or an escaped fighter. He was no doubt just some average child, and Tommy was getting worked up over nothing. That didn't stop a tiny worry from taking root in the back of his mind, however, and Tommy's mind raced.

He wasn’t entirely certain how much time had passed, Tommy taking the next order almost robotically, thoughts unfocused. Somewhere behind him he could hear a news report droning on, and he zoned in and out of listening as he mindlessly set the coffee machine going.

Villain, responsible for the kidnapping of a yet unknown number...

Apprehended by the hero Deimos, appeared in police custody bruised and badly beaten...

Released from prison, uproar among citizens as full pardon announced...

Thought to be running for New L'manburg president in upcoming election...

Local reporter with the man now, interview...

Tommy hardly took note of the report, rolling his eyes and not even glancing at the screen. Probably just another wanker that had paid off the heroes when his crimes finally caught up to him. Running for president was a new one though, Tommy was surprised a criminal -- especially one that seemed to be pretty high-profile -- was so blatant about something like that. What did they say the guy's crime was again? Kidnapping or something? Maybe To-

Tommy's hand froze in mid air, hand clamped tight around a mug; a chill worked its way through his body slowly as far too familiar voice cut through the air, tinny from where it poured out of the TV. An unwelcome fear invaded Tommy's senses, washing over him as the co*cky, thundering voice seemed to grow impossibly louder against the now dulled sound of the café. He turned to look at the screen, shaking in what he could only identify as pure horror. A wave of fear and anger shot through him as he met the man's eyes, which seemed to pierce directly into him despite the screen.

There, in front of him, grey suit shining and freshly pressed; ram horns adorned with jewellery poking from atop his skull; eyes, slitted like goats, glinting with cunning; stood a man Tommy never wanted to see again unless it was to plunge a knife through him. A man who had stolen Tommy's happiness, his brother, his friends, his childhood , alongside that of so many others.

His stomach plummeted.

As did the cup that had been clenched in his fist.

It smashed to the floor, causing Tommy to gasp as shards of ceramic scattered around his feet like fleeing birds.

TOMMY

sh*t sh*t shir

Ah balls

Tommy!?

“Tommy?”

Hey, yiou have to breathe

remember to breath, king

TUBBO

We need Tubs to come help himmm

“Putain de merde, Tom, you have to breathe-”

Every1 give him some space

Yeppers 👍

shuddup people

Where’s Clem when you need her?

OKay everyone needs to calm the f*ck down, chill, we’ll sort it out.

“Okay, you jus-”

-Need to follow Tub’s bre-

“ -athing, okay? Just copy me, in for fou-”

come on Tommy, you can do it. In for four, you know this sh*t

hold for seven

and then ou-

“Out for eight, that’s it, here we go, just keep breathing. Okay? I’m going to mov-”

Kitchen, just follow Tubbo into the kitchen, okay.

He’s got you, it’s all good

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. Just sit down, yeah?”

It’s okay

“It’s okay,”

He wasn't quite sure what happened after that. His mind felt as if it was buffeted from side to side, a storm visible to no one but himself raging in his mind. Voices blended together, a whirling carousel of sound, until he could barely distinguish what was real and what wasn't. At some point, he thought he might’ve heard Tubbo, telling him to breathe. But that might just have been one of the voices, all sounding worried beyond measure. Perhaps it had even been a long-forgotten memory, dredged up by the sight of the familiar face. There were a few things he was certain had happened, even if he didn't remember them. No doubt Tubbo had emerged from the kitchen, confusion and worry written in his expression, and led Tommy into the back room. No doubt Eret had stood over him, face creased with concern as Tommy remained frozen and unresponsive. No doubt hours passed, or perhaps just minutes, although Tommy had no recollection of any amount of time passing.

What he did remember was Tubbo's warm hand, pressed against his own, as he was slowly dragged from his stupor.

“Back with us, bossman?” Tubbo was smiling weakly at him, white as a sheet, from where he sat opposite. Tommy, blinking quickly in an attempt to regain his senses, was quick to realise where they were. Sat at the table in Eret’s kitchen, hands in front of him intertwined with his own, Tubbo tried for a comforting smile. Tommy didn’t return it, more focused on moving his cramped legs from where they were caught under the table. “Huh? Uh, yeah. Sorry. What’s- what’s the time?” He half-mumbled, shaking his head in a futile attempt to rid it of the last remnants of voices still calling for him frantically. “Ugh, f*ck. Yeah, I’m fine. Tubbo’s here, you protective bastards. I- fine. Just shut up.”

As he had just moments ago, Tubbo shot him another half-smile half-grimace. “So. Um. Well, it’s almost four, and Eret said we can head home whenever you’re ready. They told me to let you know she hopes you’re better soon, he’s just in the front right now.”
He paused for a moment, staring at Tommy intently with blatant worry written on his face, before continuing. “And not to intrude or anything, but what the f*ck happened? You don’t have to tell me! It’s just- I think I have an idea.” The brunette seemed to rush through the last sentence, wincing a little as he brought up the afternoon's events mere moments after Tommy recovered from them. Tommy himself took a moment to process his friend's words, eyes first widening in guilt at the realisation that he’d been sat there, unseeing, for over half an hour, before the rest of Tubbo’s sentence caught up to him. He first rolled his eyes, unsurprised at Eret’s seemingly unconditional care, and then stiffened as the last few sentences finally rendered in his mind.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, before closing it and shifting wearily in his seat. “What… When you say you have an idea, what d’you mean?” And oh, the moment of absolute silence that followed his question almost made him backtrack, almost made him regret asking. Before Tommy could retract his question, however, Tubbo sighed.

“Was it. Y'know the- Well- Was it my F- the guy on the TV? It was, wasn’t it? How do you- ciels au-dessus, what did he f*cking do to you?” The last sentence was spat with a venom that almost gave Tommy whiplash when compared to the tentative and apprehensive nature of the rest of Tubbo’s words. However, this didn’t stop a sense of dread settling somewhere deep in his stomach. Tubbo- Tubbo spoke as if he knew that f*cking bastard. As if he was aware of the kind of sh*t that man was involved in, far too aware to be a complete outsider.

And Tommy didn’t yet know if he wanted to be told why. Didn’t yet know if he wanted to face the realisation that Tubbo might have ties to the man, or perhaps Tubbo was even another victim of the man’s brutal plans. He wasn’t quite sure which would be worse.

So he spoke monotonously, let his face fall into a passive stare, attempting, and, by the look on Tubbo’s face, failing to wipe any emotion from his voice. “Yeah. He-” Tommy paused, clearing his throat, as his voice cracked noticeably. “His name is. f*cking hell, his name is Schlatt. J Schlatt. f*ck if I know what the J stands for. Probably Jackass or something. Anyway, he’s a piece of sh*t and if I could I would plunge a knife straight through his f*cking heart. He- argh. He- well, he was in charge of the place I grew up in, you could say. To put it one way.”

Tommy almost snorted at the irony, rubbing at his eyes. Who would've guessed, having a panic attack could take a lot out of a person, and he felt about ready to collapse into bed. Still, that wasn’t really an option as sound rushed through his mind. Contrary to the norm, this wasn’t the voices. No, these were memories. Memories Tommy had tried so f*cking hard to get rid of, and it was all brought crashing down because of seeing that smug, ram-faced bitch.

With an effort, a great, heaving effort, Tommy dragged himself away from the damp stone and blood-speckled hands, the too-large swords and clanking chains. Towards, both literally and figuratively, the light. Towards Tubbo, still sat shell-shocked at the table. He still needed answers. They both needed answers. They both needed to provide answers. Tommy looked, a mix of expectancy and worry clouding his face as his eyes met Tubbo’s, wide and damp, green faded slightly as if he too was lost in the past.

Eventually, however, Tubbo did break the silence. Eventually, he shifted in his seat, not removing his hand from where it met Tommy’s, and spoke.

“Schlatt- Oh putain de ciel, comment dire ce? f*ck. Tommy. Tommy, Schlatt is my father .”

-0-

What the f*ck. The sentence was the only thing running through Tommy’s head as he stared across the table, and he said as such, voice cutting through the air with the precision of a scalpel. Tubbo flinched away from the words, and Tommy made sure to blunt his tongue before speaking again.

“No, no, he didn’t have f*ckin’ kids! You’re tellin’ me- you’re tellin’ me that someone willingly had a f*ckin’ child with that rat-faced, Kronos-looking, douchey bastard? No, no one in their right f*ckin’ mind would ever lump themself in with that prick! I- what the f*ck. What the f*ck. No, that’s not- Where were you? All those years of that smug bellend walking around and never once did he have a f*ckin’ child with him!”

Tubbo snorted at that, and waited for Tommy to collapse back into his chair with a broken sigh. “I never knew his work, he never f*cking showed me. I swear, mon dieu, si j'avais su ce que faisait ce putain de salaud-” He cut himself off, clamping his jaw shut and attempting to school his expression into one that was slightly less murderous. At least one of them needed to be in a decent headspace for this conversation. “Tommy, I swear that if I’d known I never would’ve let him do that kind of sh*t. Whenever I asked where he worked, he would tell me it’s not a place for kids-”

Tommy saw red.

“NOT A PLACE FOR KIDS?! THAT DIDN’T SEEM TO STOP THE BASTARD MAKIN’ US FIGHT TO THE DEATH THOUGH, DID IT?” Tommy roared, hands slamming hard into the table as he pushed himself back up. “Not for- Ohohoh that hypocritical, lyin’, two-faced, prick! 'Not for children' my f*ckin’ arse, he didn’t seem to give a rats tail about children when he was rakin’ in the bets from makin’ us fight each other into oblivion!”

Blood rushed through his ears, swiftly accompanied by a cacophony of voices all screeching their own insults and curses. Tubbo laid his hand back on the table where it had been displaced by Tommy’s movement, a silent offering. He looked close to tears, an expression of pure fury on his face. He seemed torn between pulling Tommy into a hug and blowing something up. Preferably his father, but that probably wouldn’t end well for anyone involved. “How- how the f*ck did he even raise a kid? Wh- was he just like ‘Oh yes, son, you occupy yourself for the next few hours, I’ll just be down the road kidnappin’ children! Don’t mind me!’? How in the f*ck did he even- What the f*ck.”

Tommy cut himself off, laughing humorlessly. Tubbo’s own wet laugh soon joined the sound, accompanied by a few coughs as the shorter teen spoke again. “I don’t… I don’t know. He- well, it would be a lie to say he cared about me. But he never- never let me get involved in any of the underground sh*t. It wasn’t like I had a normal childhood, not by any means, I mean logically I should be in school right now. But it’s pretty hard to go to parent’s evening when you’re a wanted criminal, so I just got homeschooled. I don’t think he wanted people to know I existed, yaknow? He was out most of the time, and, well… Honestly I preferred when he was out. You know how he was when he was home, and I didn’t really care to find out where he was as long as he wasn’t at the house. Oh what the f*ck man, Je ne sais même pas quoi... I don’t- he…” Tubbo trailed off, mouth opening and closing like a fish before shaking his head and pushing out of his seat. “f*ck it. I’m telling Eret that we’re going home. We’ll sort this out another day, you need sleep. Panic attacks are draining.”

Tommy nodded, mind too clouded to properly focus on Tubbo’s words or the age-old experience in his voice as he spoke. He wasn’t thinking right as Eret wished them a safe journey, eyes lasering in on Tommy with palpable concern. He still wasn’t thinking right as Tubbo dragged him through the streets, pulling up the train schedule on his phone and grumbling as they went.

He still wasn’t thinking right as the pair sat at the station for what could’ve been anywhere from five minutes to an hour, or as Tubbo dragged him onto the train. He still wasn’t thinking right as his friend grappled for the keys to the apartment, swearing as they jammed in the lock. Eventually, Tommy just about registered Tubbo shoving him down onto the familiar old sofa. Just about registered his friend pulling the blanket up over him, heard him moving towards the kitchen and clattering around inside.

Tubbo was right, he knew, he needed to sleep. Still, every time he began drifting off, nightmares would plague his mind and he would wake, screaming. Tommy knew a peaceful sleep would continue to evade him, and soon enough he decided his time would be better spent doing something productive, like cooking. Or running around Pogtopia in a mask and cloak. Either one.

Unsurprisingly, and much to Tubbo’s chagrin, he chose the latter. It was late enough, Tommy having enough hours lying on the sofa in that land between waking and sleeping that it was already dusk. With his mask pulled up and glasses secured, a promise of conversation made to Tubbo, Tommy leapt from the bedroom window, using little platforms of light to bounce his way through the darkening sky.

-0-

He was quick to make his way across the city, stopping only briefly to break up a drunken fight outside a bar. Honestly, he was surprised at the lack of tipsy rows he’d had to resolve, especially given it was almost 9pm on a Friday night in one of the worse parts of the SMP. But his journey was only briefly delayed, and Tommy was quick to work his way towards Boomerville, his chosen haunt for the evening. Just because it was usually peaceful and out of the way. Definitely not because he was half-hoping to run into a certain unmasked hero.

He didn’t care for Aether. That would be absurd. The enderian was a hero, for crying out loud! Sure, they didn’t seem to be particularly good or even particularly enthusiastic about the whole thing, especially the ‘don’t help vigilantes’ bit, but that didn’t change the fact that he was literally working against Tommy. It would be very, very, stupid for him to try and befriend the anxious teen. But, well, Tommy wasn’t exactly known for his rationality.

He wasn’t stupid, not by any means. Sure, he played up the ‘dumb teen’ act when it was beneficial, but by no stretch of the word was he stupid. When he chose, Tommy could be clever. Could be powerful. Could be dangerous. And he knew this. Hell, it was impossible for him to have done half the sh*t he’d pulled off without acknowledging that he was smart. Resourceful, level-headed, quick on his feet, whatever you wanted to call it. Tommy was a survivor, and a selfless one at that. And he was going to help that f*cking hero if it was the death of him.

Chapter 12: It's Gonna Hurt Like Hell (To Become Well)

Chapter Text

The road he stood in was dark, Tommy not risking creating a light when he was trying to be stealthy. Well, not exactly stealthy, per se, he just…didn’t particularly want to be noticed. Yeah. He was really not in the mood to deal with the pair of people walking just across the road.

He couldn’t quite discern the second figure, shrouded in darkness so that he could make out nothing of them except a flash of royal blue and some hints of sparkling gold, but Ares’ huge, jet-black crow wings were pretty hard to miss. If Ares had been alone, then it might not have been such an issue. The prick had wings, sure, and his speed and agility was something to look out for, but when it came down to it Tommy could outrun him, and as long as he stayed low to the ground the top hero usually didn’t take notice anyway. Which did kind of speak wonders about the system, that the number one hero could be bested by a kid in a mask. But, well, Tommy wasn’t about to complain.

The two men were talking as they passed the alleyway in which Tommy was crouched, and he paused his racing thoughts to listen in.

“-os? No, honestly, he hasn’t told me anything. Has he not said anything to you either?”

That was Ares. He sounded confused, almost worried although it was hard to tell through his voice changer.

“Nah, nothing. He completely shut off as soon as I tried to bring it up, completely f*cking ignored the fact that that bastard might try press charges, especially if he’s running for president now. Speaking of, how the f*ck did they let him off like that? And let him go in for f*cking president too?”

Ah. Tommy could take a solid bet as to who the pair were talking about. Or, well, one of the subjects. The younger of the two sounded annoyed, his disdain audible even through the voices distorted sound.

“I know mate, it’s not right. Still, nothing we can do. I’m sure they have their reasons.”

The second voice, the one that Tommy couldn’t quite place, snorted loudly, laughing as he spoke, the sound of the pair growing fainter as they walked away. “Yeah, right. Or the prick just paid them off. Y’know, I think I should run for president too. Give him a run good for his money.”

Ares’ chuckles broke through the air, and Tommy breathed a sigh of relief as the two voices finally turned down a different street. While their conversation had been interesting, and Tommy had half a mind to follow and listen in, he really couldn’t afford to be discovered by the pair. So instead he remained in the alleyway for a few minutes longer, until he was completely certain they were gone, before emerging back onto the street.

He shook off the strange conversation, tucking it somewhere deep in his brain for later examination as he made his way up the street, heading purposefully away from the heroes. He had other sh*t to deal with, and Tubbo could help him psychoanalyse what he’d heard later. After they’d dealt with… everything else. Oh joy, more fun conversations to look forward to. He was positively glowing with excitement.

That was a lie, Tommy was actually glowing because of the sudden influx of orbs floating around him, their voices running through his head at an almost incomprehensible pace.

TURN LEFT

Left left left left

GO DOWN THE STREET ON LFT

brrrrrrr

OGM ADPOTOIN TIEM

EEEE i can’t waittt

brother time brother time yeee

“Alright, alright, shut it you stupid twats. Left? Here? Onto f*cking Tnret street? You want me to go down here? Are you lot trying to get me killed?” Tommy muttered to himself, glancing dubiously down the sketchy street.

It was rarely ever a good idea to walk down a dark and dingy Pogtopia street at 9pm in the evening. Much like many places around the outer fringe of the SMP, Pogtopia was... Well, it was by no means a good area, which, as it was so far north-west of District 1, wasn't exactly a surprise. It was never a place you wanted to be walking alone at night, the fear of getting mugged, kidnapped, or just stepping on an old needle, typically proving to be good deterrents.

All in all, Pogtopia was far from the most desirable place to live. One of the few things it was good for, however, was flying under the radar. If you wanted to escape, Pogtopia was the place. Or better yet, the Wastelands. But Tommy wouldn't go back there in a million years, so Pogtopia it was. Housing was cheap, landlords rarely cared about ID or legality (as evidenced by the fact that Tommy was somehow able to get an apartment at the ripe age of 13), even if the actual houses almost never had heating year-round.

And, until recently, the heroes didn't give a flying f*ck about Pogtopia. This served to be both a curse and a blessing, allowing criminals to get away with almost anything while also ensuring people like Tommy, whether they be non-existent (in the eyes of the law, at least) runaways or donning masks and cloaks illegally, could live in peace.

And vigilantism in Pogtopia wasn't exactly uncommon, as it was natural for high crime rates to incite high vigilante rates, especially in those with powers good enough to be useful but not good enough to be used by the heroes.

Or maybe they were good enough to be used by the heroes, but they just understood how f*cked the hero system was. A good example of this was Tyche, who didn't regularly patrol Pogtopia specifically, but still. The vigilante could literally control blood for crying out loud, Tommy could 100% believe that the heroes had tried to recruit her at some point or another. Others, such as himself or those like Phlegethon, whose power was literally fire bending, startlingly similar to that of the number 6 hero, Hybris, just wanted to do good for people and were half-decent at fighting.

In recent times, obviously, this had changed, with Dolos taking a sudden interest in taking down the vigilantes dotted around the entire SMP ever since Tommy – Theseus – had started getting more attention.

-0-

In any other situation, when faced with the darkened alley, Tommy would’ve scoffed and given up right there and then, assuming he was even still alive. But right now, Tommy was not Tommy. Rather, he was Theseus, famed vigilante and afraid of no sh*tty little alleyways. So, rolling his eyes and keeping his hand close to his knife, Tommy turned down Tnret, right onto the first backstreet.

A tall figure sat at the end of the alley, balanced on top of a pile of crates, heterochromatic eyes staring at Tommy like a deer in the headlights. Half of their face was glowing a brilliant white and the other half shrouded in darkness, shock written clear across the half of their expression that Tommy could see.

“Aether?” Tommy really shouldn't have been surprised that the voices had led him to the young hero, they seemed to have taken quite a liking to the boy. It wasn’t like he was going to complain, Tommy himself feeling oddly protective over the enderian, and his gaze softened as he looked at the hero. Aether looked less than pleased to see him, although Tommy noted that he wasn’t tensed for a fight. Aether seemed to take note of Theseus’ relaxed posture too, eyes flickering with relief as they shifted slightly.

“Theseus. You, hah, you’ve picked a really inconvenient time to show up. Hi. Um-” The hero seemed to give up, sighing as he turned to face Tommy fully. Not for the first time, Tommy took note of how thin the boy was. How he seemed to be constantly twisting their fingers, or flicking their tail, or just swinging back and forth. How he seemed a slight breeze away from just… blowing away. Also not for the first time, Tommy silently cursed Dolos for allowing this. Or, more likely, encouraging it. He wouldn’t be the first hero to wind up hurting people, it was a disturbing theme.

Tommy shifted his weight from foot to foot, moving slowly forward with his eyes fixed on Aether. When the hero didn’t flinch away or move for his weapon, Tommy took this as a go-ahead to move closer, letting his arm swing by his side, almost dangerously far from his knife. It was objectively a stupid decision, no guarantee that the hero would help him if the need arose, or even that Aether wouldn’t be the one to hurt him. But Tommy felt safe around them, for no good reason. A sureness lingered in his mind, certain that Aether would help him if something were to happen.

The two had grown almost close over their numerous meetings. Many evenings of Tommy waving to the hero, not expecting a response but grinning under the mask on the rare occasion that Aether smiled at him in acknowledgement. Many evenings of Aether tactfully ignoring Theseus flying past, pretending not to see him so they wouldn’t have to engage him in a fight, not wanting to shatter the tentative peace between them. Tommy did the same, waving when he saw the hero around but not going out of his way to seek him out, knowing that Aether would be in worlds of trouble if they were found to be fraternising, however briefly, with a vigilante such as Theseus.

They hadn’t spoken since the incident at Mellohi, when Aether helped Tommy and Tubbo, but Theseus had nodded to him on patrol since. Hesitantly, Aether had nodded back. It felt like progress.

But Tommy knew there was still a long way to go. The waves and smiles had been an olive branch, Aether’s refusal to engage him in combat like a hand grasping the branch with fever, Theseus trusting Aether enough to allow them into his apartment concreting his display of trust for the hero. That tiny hint of peace, perhaps even friendship, had done wonders, but Tommy knew there was more to do. Knew this was an opportunity, the most words they’d exchanged since that Wednesday.

And so, like the idiot he was, Tommy hopped up beside Aether and stretched his arms out in a yawn. He didn’t miss the way Aether stiffened slightly, clearly not expecting Tommy to come so close. The hero was eyeing him nervously, seemingly expecting Theseus to say something. Instead, he just sat there and stared at the sky. Aether was the first to break the silence.

“So… Is your, uh, is your friend better? The health pot worked and everything?”

It was a lame attempt to start a conversation, although not unjustified, and Tommy nodded in response. Despite how confident he may seem, sitting next to someone who could have him arrested quicker than he could blink, Tommy truly had no idea what to say. In the plan of 'Get Aether To Trust Him', he hadn’t really gotten to this step yet. But it wasn’t as if he could pull out a pen and paper and start drafting ideas, so instead he just went off the top of his head.

“Yeah, Tubbo’s fine. His arm is almost completely healed, y’know. Dunno what would’ve happened if you hadn’t got that potion. Thank you.” Tommy mumbled the last bit of his sentence, what it lacked in volume being made up for in sincerity. Aether smiled slightly, nodding to themself. “Good, good, that’s good. I’m glad to hear that. And, um, you’re both doing okay? Like, in general?”

In any other situation, Tommy might’ve laughed at the awkwardness of the teenager's words. In this case, however, he had a feeling that would only freak out the hero. Instead, Tommy just nodded and smiled at Aether. “Yeah, yeah we’re both alright. Was back at work for the full day today, which was good. You ever down ‘round District 9?”

Aether hummed, shrugging. “Not really, no. I’m usually up in 1 through 5, or down here in Pogtopia. But I’ve passed through a couple times, why?”

“Cool, cool. Y’know FCR Café? That’s where we both work.”

The hero seemed to consider for a moment, furrowing his brow in thought. “Uhh… Yeah, I think so. I’ve never been in, but the name sticks out a bit. Final Control Room, yeah?”

Theseus hummed in confirmation, kicking his feet against the crate they dangled from.

The pair sat in silence, time stretching on almost comically. It wasn’t quite a comfortable silence, Tommy could practically feel the anxiety radiating off the tall boy beside him, but he wouldn’t consider it uncomfortable either.

As they had the first time, Aether was the one to speak. “So!” He pulled themself up, holding out an arm to help balance. Tommy followed the hero to his feet, stumbling only slightly on the uneven wood. The hero beside him rolled their shoulders, sighing. “I should head off now, Dolos will, ah, be wondering where I am.”

“Oh yeah, where is the green prick tonight? He’s usually with you.” Tommy had barely even noticed the significant lack of the number two hero who was usually looming over Aether’s shoulder, too preoccupied with talking to the tall teen to even think about him. Aether winced at the question, sucking in a quick breath. “Eesh, no. Not recently. He’s not been having a great time since the whole Artemis incident, and I think Actaeon betraying us really tipped him over the edge. He’s barely left his office in days, apparently he’s got something planned. I’d avoid him if I were you, he’s out for blood.” They finished with a shudder, seemingly all too familiar in what Dolos being ‘out for blood’ entailed. Before Tommy could quite consider the implications of that idea, Aether was jumping off the crates and turning towards the alley entrance with a wave.

“Aether, hold up!” Tommy called after him, also jumping down onto the floor with a grunt. He fished around in his pocket for a moment, Aether shifting nervously in front of him as he did. “Here,” Tommy thrust his hand forward, a small Nokia phone held within. “It’s already got my number in, I haven’t put anyone else but yeah. If you ever need to contact me, for any reason, just call. Or message, I’m pretty sure those things do that.” He muttered, hunching his shoulders as he shoved his hands back in his pockets.

Aether stared at the small phone that had just been shoved into their hand, and for a moment Tommy was afraid they were going to cry. Thankfully, no such thing occurred, and Aether simply pocketed the phone and turned his gaze to Tommy.

“I- Uh. Thank you. Really. I seriously need to go now, though, so bye. I’ll, um, call or something. Bye, Theseus.”

And before Tommy could even think to respond, maybe with a nod or quick goodbye, Aether was gone in a puff of purple.

Chapter 13: World Collapsing (Look How Pretty it Burns)

Chapter Text

The next few weeks passed in a blur of people, and February was slowly creeping closer. Tubbo had finally made himself comfortable at the apartment, completely stealing Tommy’s desk and renovating it until it looked like something out of a sci-fi. There were three monitors blinking on and off, strange numbers, strings of code, and notifications popping up on each of them, wires scattered around, and lights flashing constantly.

They’d eventually worked up the nerve to go back to Tubbo’s childhood home, Tommy keeping his hand close to his gun the whole time. It was rare for him to ever take his gun anywhere, he always aimed to incapacitate rather than kill, but this was a special occasion. Luckily, or unluckily depending on who you asked, it seemed that Schlatt had already cleared out by the time they got there.

The house looked borderline abandoned, cold and empty, although it seemed Tubbo’s room had been left untouched. Scouting out the rest of the house as Tubbo packed his suitcases, Tommy quickly discovered that Schlatt had well and truly cleared out. Almost every room was empty, not a single thing left on any of the desks or stacked on bookshelves. It was like a ghost house. And Tubbo looked like a ghost when they finally made their way home, face white as a sheet. He was quick to recover, however, as he was finally able to change into a new shirt for the first time in almost a week.

Work had been slow, a much-needed relief since Purpled hadn’t yet joined the team. Lunch breaks were impossibly even more chaotic than before, and Niki was swiftly becoming a regular, despite having her bookstore to run up in District 3. Nothing particularly note-worthy had happened – unless Tommy almost getting doused in coffee by Tubbo and an out-of-control brewer counted as note-worthy –. Wilbur had shown up a few times, but his visits had become few and far between. Last Tommy had seen of him had been almost four days ago, when he’d looked even more ruffled than usual and spent all his time bemoaning the villain appearances that had become more frequent in recent weeks.

That topic had also come up in the now weekly meetings Theseus had with Aether, first arranged by Tommy just two days after he’d given Aether the phone. It had become a habit, now three weeks in, where it had been decided that each Saturday at 10pm they would meet in the same alley as that first conversation. As the weeks had progressed, Tommy had noticed Aether growing more and more stressed. The hero's anxiety seemed to increase alongside the villain attacks, and Tommy had made sure to ask about it. Apparently, Aether had no clue why there had been so many incidents recently, having been told next to nothing by his mentor. They were as lost as Tommy was as to the reason that not only the Hermits, but also Cosmos and even the villain trio of Batrakhos, Karcharias, and Alki had been spotted causing chaos.

It was unusual, and if Aethers sleepless expression was anything to go by, a taxing time for the heroes. Not to say the vigilante’s weren’t suffering either, Phlegethon having taken a pretty bad hit in a battle against Batrakhos, but from what little conversation Tommy had held with Tyche since he seemed to be healing up okay. Something was brewing, and there was no doubt they’d soon find out what. One way or another.

And it wasn’t just the sleepless eyes or tired voice that Tommy noticed about Aether, but also the newly hunched frame, the winces they tried – and failed, Tommy was far too experienced at noticing these things – to hide, his shaking hands and too-thin wrists. There was something else wrong, and Tommy would bet his life savings that Dolos was behind it. Which, granted, wasn’t exactly a lot, but that was beside the point. That didn’t change the unfiltered rage that Tommy felt for the masked man every time he saw Aether’s rapidly decreasing health.

Still, somehow, that wasn’t the worst of it. No, that came one gloomy Saturday a few weeks into the arrangement, the two teenagers sat on the edge of a nearby building with their legs dangling over the edge. Just a few minutes before Tommy had been daringly swooping through the air, having unbound his wings with little hesitation, their presence no doubt having already been added to a file somewhere by Dolos and it being too late and dark to worry about any civilians seeing.

He hadn’t flown so freely in years, laughing as he darted through the sky, entirely confident that Aether would catch him if anything happened. Despite having only really known the enderian a few weeks at most, Tommy could already wholeheartedly say he trusted the young hero with his life. Which was beyond stupid, given Aether could have him arrested with a click of his fingers, but Tommy knew they wouldn’t.

As the pair sat on the roof, Tommy panting from his sky-borne freedom, Aether stretched an arm out, jacket sleeve riding up his wrist. There, etched deep into the bright white of his skin, bruised deep yellowish purple, was a handprint. As if someone had grabbed their wrist harshly, dragging them along, nails scraping into the skin. Without thinking, Tommy had reached towards Aether with a gasp, fingers trailing across the bruise. Aether had flinched away harshly, fear flickering quick across his face. Tommy had tried to ask, almost snarling out Dolos’ name, but Aether had been quick to deflect the questions, cutting their meeting short and calling out a terse goodbye before vanishing.

A week had passed since that meeting, Tommy pacing anxiously around the living room in preparation. There was no confirmation that Aether would even show up, and his call had gone straight to voicemail. Still, Tommy had said he’d be there. So he would.

Tubbo was staring at him from his spot on the sofa, curled up with his latest pile of machine parts in his lap. The shorter boy had tried asking – more than once – what was up, but had so far garnered no response from the blonde. Instead, he’d taken to just waiting with the knowledge that, when he was ready, Tommy would explain what was wrong. And if he wasn’t ready in the next week, then, well, Tubbo would just play Bruno Mars on loop until he cracked. Either way, he’d find out soon.

It was almost nine thirty, and Tommy knew he should get going soon if he wanted to get to Tnret in time. He was almost afraid, not wanting to see this tenuous friendship ruined. But he wouldn’t know unless he tried, and so he pulled the window open with a grunt and hauled himself out. The street was dark, and the roof he clambered onto still damp from the earlier rain. Luckily, the bad weather from that afternoon had lightened up, and Tommy found himself almost relaxing as he hurtled across the skyline, air glowing beneath his feet. The journey was normal, no major incidents occurring, and Tommy even paused to wave at Porphyrion as they passed.

There was a light drizzle in the air as Tommy touched down on a roof near their meeting point, about five minutes early. He pulled the last vestiges of light that were drifting around him inwards, letting the warmth fill him in sweet contrast to the brisk February air. He opened his eyes, seeing the familiar speckles of light seeping out of him and into the sky. A few hovered right in front of his eyes, and he batted them away with a laugh. “Chaotic little buggers, quit it. Oi! Oh you f*cking pricks… Lemme know when Aether’s getting close, yeah?” Tommy grumbled, waving a hand around to dispel the orbs.

Nine minutes. Nine minutes, Tommy waited on the roof, rain slowly growing heavier while he did. A small noise came from behind him, and Tommy barely refrained himself from turning. Curse Aether and their teleportation, he huffed and waited for the hero to approach. When he didn’t, instead choosing to shuffle awkwardly behind him, Tommy broke the silence, calling out a greeting to the enderian. They jumped audibly, and Tommy did his best to conjure a relaxed tone as he turned around.

And never had he been more glad that his mask covered his whole face, because the look that crossed it as he caught sight of Aether would’ve scared the hero off instantly. The guy looked impossibly more emaciated than he had the last time they spoke, a deep greenish bruise splashed across their face.

But even with his mask hiding his expression, Tommy couldn’t quite stop his exclamation of shock that slipped through his lips.

sh*t

Time to get our murder on

/ref?

Yesyes :D

DOLOS TAHT LTITLE f*ck

oh he f*cked uppp

Lmao Ltitle

L’tit

BLOOD

KILL HIMMM

sh*t give Aether comfort

Can we just adopt r-

Message deleted by moderator

Shoot sorry

S’fine, no name drops though.

DOLOS IS GOING TO PAY

Yeh sorry, forgot

Can we just adopt Aether then?

YEEES

KILL DOLOS

ADOPTION TIMEEEEEEEE BITCHES

KILL HIM

MURDER

“Holy sh*t man, the f*ck happened there?”

He reached out quickly, but drew his hand back at the memory of what happened last time he did that. The hero startled, brushing his fingers along their face, seemingly only just having remembered about the bruise.

“O- Oh. Yeah, um, we- I was fighting a villain. Yep, I was fighting a villain and they, ah, y’know. Got a good hit in. I’m fine though! I feel fine.”

And that was the biggest pile of bullsh*t that Tommy had ever heard. He stared at Aether in disbelief, lost for words. Why were they defending Dolos? And this was very clearly Dolos’ doing, Tommy would’ve heard if Aether had been caught in a villain fight. He’d been keeping an eye out for the young hero, and would’ve been told almost instantly if Aether got in trouble. Sure, he might not have been patrolling every night, but Porphyrion definitely was, and it paid to be owed a favour by a mercenary.

Porphyrion was notoriously reliable, sticking to his word with very few exceptions. Almost ironic, his fellow mercenary (and rumoured brother, though Tommy had no clue if that was true) Misthios was known to be a fickle man, quick to change sides if offered the right price, but a ferocious fighter when it came down to it.

Tommy just sighed, grudgingly brushing over the obvious abuse and instead gesturing to the spot beside him before turning back to stare at the sky. The silence seemed to stretch on, neither boy so much as shifting where they sat. As seemed to be the pattern this evening, Tommy broke the silence.

"How's your week been?"

He lets the words fill the air, Aether almost jumping out of his skin at the sudden sound. "Oh! Oh, uh, not much going on. Dolos is still grouchy, and T- ah, Deimos has been having a bit of a rough time with everything since he beat up that one child kidnapper. Not sure what happened there, but he's still iffy about it. Other than that, not much going on… Oh, except Hybris, he's been weird lately, barely at the tower most of the time. It's inf- ah, worrying Dolos."

Aether recounts their week, Tommy listening attentively. Just a month ago, Tommy would've been beyond shocked to hear that many words come out of the hero's mouth, but now it was almost normal. Ignoring the whole hero-vigilante-friendship thing, Tommy could almost fool himself that they were just two normal teenagers hanging out. On a roof. At night. In a shady arse alley.

Okay, maybe it was a bit hard to ignore.

He nodded his head, humming, as Aether looked at him expectantly. "And you? Anything interesting happened this week?"

"Nah," Tommy shook his head, wracking his mind for anything vaguely interesting that he could comfortably share with the hero. "Work's been normal, so all good there. I spoke to Tyche the other day on patrol, and Phlegethon is healing up fine, if you wanted to know. Still got nothing on why there's been so much sh*t going on with the Villains, but yeah."

The pair lapsed back into silence, Tommy allowing it to stew for longer than usual, hoping to coax some answers out of Aether. When nothing came of it, however, and he could no longer bear the excruciating silence, Tommy searched for something to say. It didn’t take him long to find a topic, face turned up towards the sky.

“I can name all the constellations, y’know. Taught myself after- taught myself a few years back.

Aether turned to face him, eyes crinkled in curiosity. “Do you- Do you know all the stories? The myths?” They asked, seeming to be genuinely interested in the answer. Tommy hummed, eyes skimming the air to see if he could pick any out from behind the clouds of smog that so often hid the night sky.

“Yeah. Every single one, big man.”

The taller boy breathed out a sigh, muttering out a quick “Woah.” alongside it. “Cool. That’s… that’s cool. You know, one of my coworkers, Deimos, he can do that too. He told me about a couple of them.”

Ah. That would explain why all the heroes names were myth-related, no one but a mythology buff would have all those constellations committed to memory. He was speaking from experience here. Though, Tommy could’ve sworn Deimos was one of the more recent heroes to join, only having become an official hero about a year or two before Tommy himself joined the scene. Maybe it was someone else who taught Deimos.

“Well…” Tommy’s eyes finally locked onto a cluster of stars just barely poking through the clouds. Though unseen, his eyes lit up beneath the mask and he let out a breathy laugh.

“Has he ever told you the story behind Canis Major?”

“Uh-” The hero paused, thinking. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve heard the name before though, which one’s that?”

Tommy pointed up, seeing the hero squint at the sky near where his finger pointed. “That one, there, just through the clouds. Canis Major, the name means ‘the greater dog’. He’s a wolf, thought to loyally follow Orion on his hunt through the sky. We can’t see Orion right now, but he should be just over there somewhere.” He gestured vaguely to the clouds, somewhere in the general area that the constellation should be. “Canis Major’s usually shown standing on his hind legs and chasing a hare, Lepus, who’s usually beneath Orion. Another variation shows him depicted as Laelaps, the fastest dog in the world, who was a gift from Zeus. I prefer the first version though. Think it, ah, fits better.”

He snorted, shaking his head a little. It was funny, just the other week he’d pointed out the constellation Orion to Tubbo, comparing the ancient hunter to the much more real threat of Dolos still lurking in the back of his mind. How ironic, the first constellation he sees when with Aether is Orion’s obedient lapdog.

Aether hummed, considering Tommy’s words. Tommy wondered if they could see the link too, but he brushed the thought off. And his attention was soon dragged away from that line of thought anyway, Aether speaking up. “What about those ones? Are they part of Canis Major too?” He pointed at six stars spread near to the first constellation, and Tommy shook his head after a moment. “No. No, those are Columbia. Columbia, if I remember right, represents the dove sent to release Noah from the arc, an olive branch, the first changing point. Signifying peace. I like that one too, it’s not Greek mythos, but it’s still cool.”

He trailed off, letting the conversation lapse into silence. Hopefully, Columbia would prove to be more relevant to the teenager sitting beside him than Canis Major.

Standing up suddenly, Tommy let out a huff of air. Aether startled beside him, and pulled themself to their feet much slower than Tommy had. “Right! Let’s go.” Tommy clapped his hands, stretching as he stood. The hero shuffled on his feet, confused about the change of schedule. In all their weeks of meeting, they never really left the alleyway. Tommy figured it might be a nice change of pace.

“Where are we, um, going?” Aether started, anxious but not hesitating to teleport down when Tommy jumped from the roof. Waving his hand in the air, Tommy just gestured for the lanky teen to follow him to the mouth of the alley. Then, he darted forward and up into the sky, light bouncing beneath his feet to keep him up.

“Race you, dumbass!” He called gleefully to the hero, who’d been left sputtering in the street. This didn’t last long though, as Aether quickly appeared on the roof beside him in a puff of particles. “Hey- that’s not fair! You didn’t even tell me where we’re going!” They called, indignant but Tommy could detect a hint of amusem*nt in his tone. Good, Aether deserved to have fun every once in a while. “Just follow me and you’ll be fine!” Tommy yelled back, hardly able to hear himself over the wind rushing through his ears as he sped up.

He could just about hear Aether’s next words though, and he grinned as the pair darted through the cool evening air.

“Well that isn't even a race then, is it!”

Chapter 14: Hide The Fracture (We'll Keep Hoping it Turns)

Chapter Text

Tommy finally came to a halt, panting and flushed, and let himself drift to the floor in the middle of a dingy looking square. All around him were grimy stalls and squashed shopfronts, only a few open at this time of night. The middle of the square held a fountain that had been broken as long as Tommy could remember seeing it. Which, admittedly, was only a couple years. But still. Aether teleported down near him, Tommy picking up on the now-familiar ‘Vwoop!’ sound that accompanied the teleportation's.

“Where are we?” The hero asked, a reflection of breathless laughter still clinging to his voice.

Tommy pointed to the sign badly nailed to the nearby wall, labelling their location as ‘XD Square’, before heading over to the only lit up stall and banging on it loudly. Aether squeaked, shushing him with a glance around, but Tommy just scoffed.

“Nah it’s fine, Henry won’t care when he sees it’s me, ‘n the only other person we risk disturbing now is ol’ Dan,” He nodded to the only other building with its lights on. “But he’s chill. He wouldn’t get pissy, the most he’d do is try sell you some shiny sh*t. He does have a weird thing for diamonds though, so just try not to mention them if he does show up.”

Aether’s eyes were still wide, evidently not expecting Tommy to know the local area so well, but their shoulders had relaxed. Before they could ask anything else, the metal sheet in front of the stall opening slid up, and a short man with pitch black hair stared out at them. His eyes, previously tired and vaguely annoyed at being woken from what Tommy presumed was a nap, lit up at the sight of him, and before he knew it Tommy was pulled into an awkward hug, squished against the countertop.

PogU

eyooo Henry!

F A T H E R

tmmyHenry

Lmao sure dude

HENRY YESYES

nonono Eret is our resident parental figure

LET TOMMY HAVE MORE THAN ONE PARENT >:(

POGGG

YEAHHH HE NEEDS ALL THE PARENTS

One for every traumatic experience :D

i don’t think there’s enough people in the world for that 💀

Touché

“Eyy, Theseus! Good t’ finally see ya back ‘round ‘ere kiddo, feel like it’s been far too bliddy long since you’ve popped over! What c’n I get for ya, kid?” The man reached out with a vitiligo-patched hand to ruffle his hair, pushing back Tommy’s hood as he did. The blonde teenager squawked, batting at the hand with a grin.

“Hey Henry. I’ll have the usual, thanks. And… Aether, what d’you want?”

The stall-owners flickered to the other shadowed figure for the first time since they’d arrived, and he stepped back in confusion. The man’s eyes locked back on Tommy, and even with his face covered he could tell that Henry was staring right at his eyes. He nodded, just once, but it was enough. The stall-owner seemed satisfied, if still a little wary, and turned so both boys were in his eyeline.

Aether hesitated, stuttering as they skimmed the menu. “I’ll, um, I’ll just- I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” He mumbled, eyes turned to the floor. Tommy watched Henry carefully, taking note of the exact moment he realised that Aether was really just another kid. His expressive eyes softened, but Tommy didn’t miss the flash of anger that crossed them as the adult caught sight of the bruise across Aether’s face. Guess Tommy wasn’t the only one jumping to conclusions about the heroes.

Henry was calmer when he spoke next, already making Tommy his usual chicken burger. “An’ usual drink, Theseus? Same f’r ya friend, too?”

Tommy flicked a glance to Aether, who was staring intently at the floor, and just nodded. “Yeah, I think that’ll work.” He shot the young hero a reassuring nod as they finally looked up, and he could practically feel the pride radiating from Henry.

He’d known the man little over a year, having saved him during a robbery (attempted, might he add, he’d shown up to help but apparently old Dan’s jewellery shop was better defended than the criminals expected) when a couple of the robbers decided to fight instead of going down easy, and one with some kind of fire-related powers managed to set what was then Henry’s stall on fire. Tommy had easily sorted it out after apprehending the criminals, luckily Dan’s shop had a working hose and seven fire extinguishers (no, Tommy didn’t know why. Nor did he particularly care to find out, if he was being honest). And ever since that day, Henry apparently decided he owed him. And then when Tommy had rejected his insistence that he was owed a favour by the stall-owner and just settled for a free burger when the man insisted, he decided to treat Tommy like his own kid. Which was a bit weird, but not entirely unwelcome.

Five minutes later, the two costumed teenagers sat on a nearby roof, happily munching away at their burgers. Tommy had tried to pay, ignoring the pit in his stomach at the wasted money, but was immediately waved away by Henry, who instead just told them to enjoy the food and made Tommy promise to explain everything when he was next around. Tommy agreed, albeit reluctantly, and led Aether to a rooftop a few streets away.

The hero seemed unsure at first, trying to give his burger and drink to Tommy. Which Tommy ignored, raising an eyebrow at the boy sceptically.

“You need to eat, big man. You look like a f*ckin’ stick.” Tommy forced out a semi-believable laugh, but he wasn’t really being funny. The hero did look thin, almost sickeningly so. But still, they shook their head. When questioned further, his eventual response made Tommy’s blood boil.

It took a solid ten minutes of insistence to get Aether to explain his aversion to the food, and Tommy had crossed off almost everything by the time they finally did explain. Allergies? No. Did they just not like burgers? Apparently that wasn’t it. Was he vegetarian? Not that either. Did the hero just not like food in general? Which was, thankfully, yet another no. Tommy wouldn’t have known quite how to handle that.

Only one option remained, and Tommy was praying it wasn’t true.

Before he even got the opportunity to ask, Aether answered the question. The hero had been shifting anxiously, and the answer seemed to burst out of them suddenly.

“Look, Theseus, I’m not allowed to eat unless Dolos says so. I’m sorry, but I can’t have the burger.”

That bastard is so fcking dead

ohohoh he messed with the wrong guy

yayzers, deth time :sunglasses:

Mmmm angst my beloved

LLLLL

He dares hurt my child?

*our child

Of course

DOLOS IS SOf*ckING DEAD

And Tommy couldn’t help but agree with the voices on that, he was going to strangle that teletubby-looking f*cker if it was the last thing he did. It took every ounce of his self-restraint not to fly to the Tower right that instant and punch the living sh*t out of the vomit-green hero, but Tommy managed to restrain himself. Just about. Only by telling himself that he’d get Aether to eat was he able to remain seated, and the debate that ensued was not one he wanted to repeat.

But, in the end, Tommy emerged victorious. He watched with bated breath as Aether squeezed their eyes shut and took a tentative bite of the burger. Tommy breathed out a sigh of relief, and before he could even blink the hero was scarfing down the rest of it like it was the first thing he’d eaten in days, which… was actually a frighteningly possible option. Tommy almost didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t just not say anything.

“Aether, dude, when was the last time you ate?”

The long pause that followed was decidedly not a good time, and Tommy braced himself for the answer.

“It’s, uh, Saturday, right?” The hero muttered, sighing when Tommy nodded. “Yeah, course, meeting. I should’ve known that. That would make it, um, since Wednesday? I think? So that’s what, three days?”

Tommy was pretty sure he could literally feel his blood boiling. He was going to stab a green bitch. He was actually going to f*cking kill that f*ckarse teletubby-looking bastard-

He really should’ve guessed it would be something that bad. f*ck, why was he even suprised? Gods. Three, if not four days without food? No wonder the young hero was so hungry. Tommy finished his burger, half focused on his conversation with Aether and half brooding darkly about where exactly he’d stab Dolos if he ever got the chance. He was thinking of slashing the man's Achilles tendon, stop him from running. Apparently it was painful as f*ck, too. Then, well, he’d draw it out as long as he could. Forearms, always good options. Rarely lethal. Calves, too. Lower abdomen, maybe. And stomach, although that was more of a risk. Maybe he’d cut the man’s hands off, so he could never hurt Aether again. Or cut out his tongue, so he could never order the teenager around. And then he’d probably leave the man to bleed-

His thoughts were interrupted by Aether, apparently only just having remembered the time. The tall boy stood up, Tommy following suit, and stood awkwardly for a moment.

“Thank- thank you, Theseus. I’ll, well, I’ll see you next week?”
“Yeah, about that. D’you mind if we meet somewhere else next week? I was thinking, y’know the river that runs through District 47? Could we meet near there, maybe in the park it runs through? I wanna introduce you to someone.”

Aether nodded hesitantly, and before Tommy could reconsider or even really think the decision through, the hero was waving at him as they disappeared into the air.

Well f*ck, Tommy mused, hopping through the sky as he made his way home. Guess Aether will be meeting Tubbo soon then, huh.

-0-

The apartment came into view much faster than Tommy anticipated, no doubt due, at least in part, to his lack of focus on the way home. The living room lights were still on, a yellowish glow seeping through the sh*tty curtains, and Tommy entered as silently as he could for fear of waking Tubbo. Not even he, who had spent years fighting everything from petty thieves to the top heroes, wanted to get on the bad side of a grumpy Tubbo. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone (that was a lie, he could think of at least two people he’d wish it on), gods only knew the carnage he was capable of.

Sure enough, there he sat as Tommy crept into the living room – /kitchen/dining room/study, it was all pretty much the same room –. Tubbo, slumped over the desk he’d claimed as his own, screwdriver still held limply in hand, completely passed out. Reaching over, Tommy unplugged any electronics he could see with a wince. Hopefully he hadn’t just wrecked one of his friends' projects. Still, he’d really rather avoid getting his house burnt down, if at all possible.

Tubbo grumbled in his sleep, shifting slightly. Tommy almost woke the brunette up, no way was that position comfortable to sleep in. But the blonde hesitated, running the options back and forth in his mind. Did he want to stop Tubbo having a painful neck the next day, or did he value having all four of his limbs?

In the end, he chose his limbs, reminding himself not to laugh too hard at Tubbo’s pain the following morning, and retired to the sofa. Sure, theoretically, the bed was free. But Tommy had gotten used to the sofa, and it felt weird to be in a separate room from Tubbo now. He, surprisingly, slept better with the knowledge that the shorter boy was just a few paces away. It reminded him of the past, a time long before Tubbo, or sofas, or his own apartment, so much so that it was almost nostalgic. In a strange, bittersweet way.

Still, good sleep was good sleep, and Tommy really did need a nap.

Chapter 15: Throw my Troubles at the World Again

Chapter Text

“Tommy Innit you f*cking bastard, you imbécile absolument stupide, WHAT IN THE HELL possessed you to let me fall asleep like that!?”

The shout tore through the serene morning air like a bullet, and Tommy shot up just in time to avoid the shoe that Tubbo had chucked at his head. He laughed loudly at his best friend's turmoil, earning a string of curses in a mix of French and English from the brunette that would’ve made even a sailor blush. His grin was quickly wiped away, however, as Tubbo’s eyes turned mischievous, hand coming away from where it had been rubbing at his neck to grab more miscellaneous sh*t to throw Tommy’s way.

With a yelp, Tommy dived behind the sofa as a jacket went soaring past him. He took a moment to breathe, thinking for a foolish moment that he'd been spared from the wrath of Tubbo, but the shorter boy was quick to prove him wrong by appearing around the corner of the sofa, grinning like a maniac and cracking his knuckles. Tommy barely had time to give a quick:

“sh*t!”

Before he was being tackled to the floor, Tubbo struggling to hold him down for only a moment before sitting victoriously on his chest. They stayed that way for a solid five minutes, before Tommy finally wheezed out an apology, which Tubbo accepted with a laugh.

It was Sunday. A day for relaxation, and, more recently, friendship. Tubbo, after having discovered Tommy’s distinct lack of pop culture knowledge, had vowed to introduce him to every Avengers film they could find somewhere for free. This resulted in the pair sitting down to watch one every few days, with Sundays being specifically cut out for at least two, if not more. Tubbo was already spread across the sofa, feet kicked up as he scoured the web for the next movie on their list, while Tommy stood just behind it, making popcorn in their sh*tty little microwave. The moment was strangely… domestic, in a weird way.

But there was still a gap, lingering in Tommy’s soul. He figured, until he could finally trace down his brother - his brother's body - , there always would be. And hell, maybe that wasn’t even the full extent of the hole. He might not admit it to anyone, but Eret was a sort of parent to him. Had been for years. And- no. His pseudo-family was big enough as it was, already having grown in the last couple years from just him and his brother for so much of his life, to then adding Eret and Tubbo too. But, well, maybe… just maybe, he wasn’t quite finished with the idea of “family”.

EYYYY ADOPTION ARC POG??

swear down this is adoption arc 5 or smth

Yeah lmaoo

tmmyPogU

family mmmmm

gatherless behaviour smh/j

Oh you f*cking hypocrite

:D

So true

“gatherless” LMAO

I am lacking a gather 😔

Same king, smae

M M M F A M I L Y

I mean seriously who ehre isn’t

frrrr

Tommy shook the thought away, turning back to the freshly-made popcorn still sitting in the microwave. He grabbed for the bowl, hissing as his fingers brushed the scorching base.

“Tommy! Get your arse over here or I’m starting the film without you!”

Tubbo called from the sofa, earning a disgruntled squawk as Tommy practically threw himself across the room. Miraculously, this occurred with minimal popcorn spillage, and Tubbo was quick to grab the bowl from him with seemingly no regard for his hands before placing it down gently on the wobbly coffee table.

The film they’d found was Spider-Man. Tubbo had taken to jokingly comparing the on-screen hero to Theseus, despite Tommy’s vehement denial of this comparison, even pointing out the consistency in costume colour schemes (And yeah, okay, maybe Uncle Ben’s “with great power comes great responsibility” resonated with Tommy more than he expected). But still, Tommy had taken wild offence to this, scoffing at being compared to, in his words, “an overgrown human spider”. This somehow prompted an entire rant from Tubbo, who, unbeknownst to Tommy, was apparently a major Spider-Man fan.

If he was being entirely honest, Tommy had no clue what the shorter boy was even talking about half the time. Still, he listened intently to Tubbo’s ramblings, asking questions and humming whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He barely even noticed as the day sped by, Tubbo quickly finding the other Spider-Man films and loading them up to watch. He only thought to look at his watch when his stomach grumbled loudly, and it was with shock that he saw it was already past 9pm. Huh. Good thing he wasn’t planning on meeting Aether today, who knew films could be so addictive. He did still have plans to go on a quick patrol, but… Well, they’d only just started The Amazing Spider-Man: 2, and it wouldn’t be fair to make Tubbo pause it.

He could just, well, he could always just stay home tonight. It wouldn’t do any harm, Sundays usually saw a lot of vigilantes out and about due to the abundance of crime anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone would miss him.

It wouldn’t really make a difference, of course not. How could it, no one would notice his absence for a day or so. Except maybe Porphyrion, but he noticed everything.

How long, Tommy wondered, would it take people to notice if he just vanished one day?

Obviously Tubbo would notice immediately, it would be kind of hard for him not to, given they spent almost every waking moment together. Eret would probably notice as soon as he missed a day's work, and would probably show up at his house after two. The public might take longer to notice Theseus’ absence, it would probably take maybe a few weeks until people started questioning where the vigilante was. Henry might notice, Tommy didn’t doubt that the stall-owner kept track of when Theseus was active in the area. Other than that, well…

Wilbur might notice, if he stopped appearing for work, but he’d likely just assume Tommy had just found another job. Niki would likely be told by Eret almost immediately, so she’d know. But other than that, despite the chaos and drama of his life as a whole, barely anyone would notice Tommy’s absence. Commuters who shared a train with him each morning might sigh in relief, questioning for a brief second where the loud blonde who usually shared their carriage had gone before just relishing in the silence. A few store owners might think occasionally about the boy who used to walk past their shops each day, asking themselves what happened to him. But for the most part, Tommy, and eventually Theseus, would fade.

That was a jarring thought. So much he’d done for the world, so much still left unfinished, and yet if he were to vanish right that second, barely anyone would even notice.

And with that oh so comforting thought, Tommy turned his attention back to the movie. He’d grab a sandwich or something when it was over, probably. But right now, the most important issue Tommy felt like dealing with was what the f*ck was going on in this film.

But, like most things in his sad little life, the calm didn’t last. It took surprisingly long, but inevitably everything went to sh*t. Again.

This time it was because of a phone call. A refreshing change from the usual chaos, and in any other situation Tommy might’ve laughed if he was told a phone call would be the thing to ruin his Sunday evening. But that didn’t change what happened.

The film wasn’t even over when the phone rang.

A dozing Tubbo yawned as he sat up, grabbing his phone from where he’d set it down on the coffee table. Tommy vaguely noted his friend’s movement, but thought nothing of it. Probably a scam call, or maybe someone Tubbo knew. Nothing dramatic, nothing bad. Just a normal phone call.

It was only when the colour drained from his friend's face that Tommy started to worry. He stood up, moving towards Tubbo, who didn’t seem to so much as take notice of him. His phone was held to his ear with a trembling hand, and Tubbo’s voice was tight and uneven when he spoke. Ignoring Tommy entirely, the boy spoke into the phone, fear clear in his tone.

Oh no

Tubbo?

BeeBoy uh oh

ah f*ck bet u it’s gonna Him

o7

tmmy7

The facft we all know who “Him” is is hilarious 💀

Well it can really only be one of two options lmaoo

'ight listen up f*ckers

Ofc

“Père?”

Tommy stilled, hand half stretched towards the brunette. He didn’t know French – hell, he could barely even speak English half the time –, but he was about 60% sure he knew what that meant, and he really didn’t like it.

“How- How did you get this number?” Tubbo almost whispered, now speaking English. Tommy watched as his friend flinched at the tinny voice coming through the phone. He looked up suddenly, locking eyes with Tommy, and clicked on the speaker. A slurred but still painfully familiar voice filled the room, words barely discernible through the drunken mumbles. Tommy sucked in a breath, half tempted to knock the phone from Tubbo’s hands.

“What do you want, father?” Tubbo’s voice grew stronger, a frown appearing on his face. The moment didn’t last, however, a flurry of insults flying from the phone, causing Tubbo to flinch away. That was the last straw for Tommy, who reached forwards and pried the phone from Tubbo’s still-shaking hands. The pair exchanged a look, Tubbo nodding slightly towards him before squeezing his eyes shut. He held the phone at arms length, a look of disgust plastered across his face as insults and curses continued to spill from the receiver.

Tommy could just about hear the words, quiet through the receiver, but even with the foreign language and drunken slur, the voice was easily recognisable as the one he’d never wanted to hear again.

”Tubbo putain de Underscore, réponds-moi cet instant! Vous n'êtes qu'un gaspillage d'espace dégoûtant et odieux. Espèce d'excuse inutile, honteuse, stupide pour un enfant! Tu es un misérable petit traître, j'aurais dû me débarrasser de toi comme je l'ai fait de ta salope de mère! Quand je te trouverai toi et ton stupide putain d'ami, et crois-moi, je le ferai, tu regretteras de m'avoir trahi! Vous peti-”

He took hold of the phone, staring at it with something akin to disgusted fury, before hanging up, the monotone beep that accompanied the action seeming to continue far longer than usual.

The pair fell into silence, the only sound being the credits of Spider-Man rolling in the background. Tommy stared at his friend, who was curled up with his knees clutched to his chest, and whose eyes were damp with tears. Tommy realised his hands were shaking. He let the phone drop from his grip, and it burst into a small lump of flames before it even hit the floor. Tommy hissed, moving his hands away from the burning pile, and Tubbo winced apologetically. He mumbled out a quick “sorry” before leaning back against the sofa, and Tommy shifted towards the other boy. He wrapped an arm around his friend, and pretended not to notice the sniffling sounds coming from the boy nestled into his shoulder.

Chapter 16: We Built This Town On Shaky Ground

Chapter Text

Tommy liked to pretend he was tough. And he was. He was a big man, of course he was tough. But, well, he still got scared sometimes. Not often, it was hard to be scared after all the sh*t he’d been through, but no one was completely invincible.

He’d rather die than tell anyone, but Tommy was nervous. Nervous, because there was a new boy at work. For the first time in over two years, there was going to be a new person working at the cafe. Which, in itself, was a terrifying thought. Tommy hated change. Pretty strange, yeah. Almost ironic, actually, especially given his inability to remain in one place or doing one activity for more than about thirty seconds, but he enjoyed stability. One thing he did not enjoy was strange new people showing up to work with him.

Hence why Tommy spent most of Purpled’s first day hiding away at the counter, taking orders like his life depended on it. And no, he wasn’t worried like Eret suggested, or sulking as Tubbo teasingly joked. He just decided to develop a sudden passion for his job. A passion which consisted of… making coffee.

Yeah, okay, it was a pretty weak argument even to his own ears.

Purpled was already in the cafe when Tommy and Tubbo arrived, and Eret sat them all down quickly to introduce themselves.

The first thing Tommy thought when he laid eyes on the boy was that holy sh*t, he was dedicated to the bit. Not only was he named after a colour – not the weirdest thing, in Tommy’s opinion –, but he also wore a tattered purple hoodie, strangely reminiscent of the one worn by Porphyrion. The hairband on his wrist was purple, as were his converse trainers. Hell, Tommy was pretty sure even his eyes were purple. The second thing that Tommy thought when he saw Purpled, was a singular word. Grape. And he’d say it was accurate. If asked to describe Purpled, he’d probably describe one of those kind of sour purple grapes at the supermarket.

All in all, Purpled was remarkably less threatening than Tommy first feared he might be.

In fact, as Tommy observed his new co-worker, he quickly came to the conclusion that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. Purpled himself seemed quiet, anxious, fiddling with the purple hairband on his wrist. He barely looked up, meeting Tommy’s eyes for about half a second before going back to staring intently at the floor.

This, however, didn’t seem to deter Tubbo in the slightest. Tubbo was a ball of energy, somehow even more lively than usual, talking almost faster than Tommy could keep up with. This was something that, judging by his bemused expression, Purpled seemed to find both entertaining and slightly scary.

The new boy spent his first day helping Eret in the kitchen, Tubbo banished to the front to help Tommy in the morning rush. As Tommy hovered at the counter, noting down customers requests, Tubbo flitted around the room handing out orders and relaying information to Eret. No one of particular note appeared.

Niki didn’t show up, though it had recently been becoming less and less common for her not to pop in at least once every few days. Wilbur didn’t appear either, which was almost expected. While Niki seemed to be coming in more and more often, Wilbur seemed to be doing the exact opposite. Tommy had barely seen the taller man in recent weeks, but it wasn’t really his problem. He shook his thoughts away with a sigh, he had enough on his plate without adding on yet another person to worry about.

-0-

The day was slow, slower than a usual Monday, but not quite slow enough to be boring. Tommy was quick to let himself sink into routine, the comforting feel of familiarity washing over him. The voices were droning on in the back of his head, and he allowed himself to listen closer than he usually might have.

Chill day PogU

mmmm i wnat coffee

Go get coffee king

Caffeine/pos

/vpos

coffee tastes like sh*t, what are y’all on?

Well f*ck you too

:P

Speak to Purp more Tommy!!!

yeaaaahhhh we need more brthers

Lmaoo

He groaned audibly, prompting a glance from Tubbo, before muttering under his breath. “f*ckin hell, how have you guys found a nickname for the poor sod already? Bruh, he’s been here about five f*cking minutes, chill out.”

Collect another brother

YAYAY

WEEE PURPLED

brother time tmmyPogChamp

Collectig traumatised teens like pokemon cards :skull:

soon he’ll surpass crowfather lmaoo

ph1lLove

YEEeaaahhh

The customer in front of him slowly edged away, snatching their coffee from him and looking at Tommy as if he was infectious. Ah. Probably not the best idea to be talking to voices in his head in the middle of work. Maybe not the most normal thing, socially speaking. He tuned out the voices best he could, rolling his eyes at their overly trusting nature, and shook the coffee machine harshly.

The blasted thing was broken again, and they really needed to get a new one. Barely a week went by without it breaking in some way or another, and it had long since started getting on Tommy’s nerves. Tubbo had offered to try and fix it, but since the Kettle Incident he’d been banned from tinkering with any of Eret’s appliances. For good reason, in both Eret and Tommy’s eyes.

Eret kept saying she’d get a new one, but apparently still hadn’t gotten round to it. Honestly, Tommy wasn’t sure how much more abuse the old thing could take until it broke for good, and he could only pray it didn’t happen in the middle of work. Suddenly, he felt a searing pain on his hand. Looking down at the offending limb, he swore under his breath as he saw that some of the burning coffee had spilled onto his palm. Swiftly abandoning the paper cup, he hurried to run the painful burn under cold water.

As he rounded the corner, Tommy could just about spot Tubbo taking his place behind the counter, cautiously avoiding the spitting coffee machine as he pulled up a pleasant smile for the next customer. He shot a concerned glance at Tommy, but Tommy turned into the kitchen before he could send a reassuring one back. Still, he didn’t dwell on it. There were more important problems, and Tommy’s thoughts were quick to move away, directing him faintly to the kitchen sink. He kicked open the door, grumbling at the weird layout of Eret’s café. Sure, he was used to it at this point, and changing it would probably send him into a panic attack, but that didn’t stop it being dumb. For some reason, the part of the kitchen that housed the fridge, counters, and table, was separate from that which housed the ovens, which in turn was separate from that which held the sink. They weren’t quite separate rooms, the table room and oven room having no door between them, but almost.

The cold water ran over his hand, and Tommy hissed. Luckily, the burn wasn’t bad, barely leaving a mark, but it still hurt. Funny, like that, how something so small could cause him pain even after all the much bigger problems he’d faced. One might’ve thought burns like that didn’t hurt him after getting stabbed in the ribs – more than once, might he add –, but no. It still hurt like hell. f*ck, why couldn’t his power have been bloody resilience, or something?

Tubbo got his f*cking explosions, his brother had enhanced strength, but here Tommy was with his stupid f*cking light. Sure, it was a cool enough power sometimes. He could see in the dark, and could even stand on light as if it was corporeal. Hell, he was pretty sure he’d figured out how to heat the light up, which he planned to try out the next time he ran into Dolos. So yeah, it was pretty cool. Sometimes. But it was also so lame, compared to everything else. Aether had teleportation, for f*cks sake! How sad did ‘light’ sound next to something like ‘teleporting’?

The door behind him banged open, a figure stumbling into the room with his arms piled high with plates and baking trays. “Shoot, sorry, didn’t know you-” The boy stopped, co*cking his head to the side at the sight of Tommy. “You good there, dude? Want me to grab Eret?” Purpled’s eyes flicked to the burn, and he winced. He dumped the plates into the sink and turned to the door, seemingly about to go tear Eret away from whatever xey were doing to fuss over Tommy.

Oh, no way in hell was Tommy going to spend another minute being fussed over. He’d had his fair share of that in the last few months, if Eret didn’t stop trying to parent him Tommy was certain he’d just keel over right there and then. With his good hand, Tommy reached out and snagged the boy's sleeve. Purpled tensed, but breathed out and looked back. Tommy shook his head and sighed. “Nah, there’s a first aid kit under the third counter. Can you just grab me a couple plasters an’ some antiseptic?”

Greyish-purple eyes – they seemed to shift so much in the light, Tommy was starting to question what colour they really were – stared sceptically into his own, neither teen blinking. Eventually, Purpled sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Back in a second.”

And before Tommy could so much as thank him, the boy was gone. f*ck, if Tommy didn’t know better he might’ve thought the guy could teleport. He let the water run over his hand for about a minute more, turning the tap off and drying it just as he heard Purpled’s footsteps approaching. The guy was clutching a handful of plasters and a tube of antiseptic, and he stood awkwardly in the corner as Tommy fixed himself up.

It didn’t take long, Tommy expertly cleaning and covering the burn in little under a minute. He turned to the door, jumping at the sight of Purpled still hovering nearby.

“f*ck! Don’t scare a man like that!” He snapped, albeit a little harsher than intended, and winched as Purpled jumped.

“Sorry, sorry. Just didn’t want Eret’s kid getting hurt on my first day. Don’t wanna get fired this f*cking quickly.”

Tommy wasn’t sure what to focus on, the fact he’d just been called ‘Eret’s kid’, or the underlying ‘wanted to make sure you’re okay’ hiding beneath Purpled’s words. Instead, he wisely chose to ignore them both, scrunching up his face slightly and shifting. “...‘Kay, uh, thanks. I’m all good though, so we should probably, y’know, do our f*ckin’ jobs now.” Tommy mumbled out, internally cursing how weird the words sounded even to his own ears.

The hoodie-clad teenager snorted, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, we probably should.” He shot Tommy a quick smile, which Tommy tried to return. He moved to walk away, back out front, but hesitated as he passed his co-worker.

“And Purpled?” He stopped, turning to face the boy. “Not a word of this-” Tommy gestured to his burnt hand, “-to Eret, or gods help me you are more dead than an aoroi.” He grinned, a joke on his face but hints of seriousness clear in his eyes.

For a moment, Tommy thought he’d gone too far, as Purpled just stared at him. But then… “Huh. Well, if I were to become an aoroi, you’d be the person I’d torment. And yeah, sure, not a word to Eret, unless that gets infected.” The boy smiled slightly, before taking his leave and disappearing back into the depths of the kitchen.

Despite his own insistence of getting back to work, Tommy remained standing in the sink-room for a moment, mulling the conversation over in his mind. The voices were going nuts, evidently having taken Purpled’s response as proof he was well-versed in mythology, but he shook them away with a huff and meandered back through the kitchen, reclaiming his position behind the counter. Tubbo kept sending him quizzical glances, which then switched to worried ones when Tommy showed him his injured hand.

He knew the shorter would be demanding to know if he was okay later, but he waved Tubbo away for the time being. They still had a job to do, even if neither of them were particularly good at it, and Tommy watched fondly as his friend flipped off a Karen while her back was turned. He rolled his eyes, praying to Eutykhia that the lady didn’t notice, before cheering loudly as the coffee machine finally kicked back into action.

Chapter 17: Choices (The Hinges of Destiny)

Chapter Text

It was three days since Purpled’s first arrival, and the boy had spent each one of those afternoons working steadily at the cafe. Mornings were the same as ever, Purpled not around that early as apparently he had classes, but he’d always show up to help at some point after lunch.

Even after three days of working with the other boy, Tommy had barely exchanged a word with him since the interaction by the sink. Although, they would smile at each other whenever they crossed paths, so Tommy deduced that it couldn’t be too bad. Admittedly, they didn’t cross paths often, as Purpled was still confined to the kitchen during his shifts while Tommy played barista. Tubbo had taken to buzzing between the two boys, always grinning and making jokes in his usual cheery tone, having grown significantly closer to Purpled in those few days.

Not close, not close enough to reveal anything, not even close enough to exchange numbers – well, exchange emails, as Tubbo still didn’t have a phone since blowing his own one up – but they’d discovered a shared interest in biochemical warfare and explosions, Tubbo’s face lighting up at someone who would actually understand his PowerPoints.

Tommy could hear the pair chattering away through the wall, accompanied by the occasional deep chuckle from Eret. Purpled had shown up a little after midday, and had already busied himself in the kitchen. Apparently, the teen could make a mean choc-chip cookie, which had just been officially added to the chalkboard menu that morning. Tommy was flicking a paper cup back and forth across the counter, bored out of his wits. He could always join the others in the back, take a break from the lazy Thursday afternoon boredom, but last he checked Purpled had been rambling about the use of chlorine trifluoride and napalm in wars. Which Tommy had not even the slightest f*cking clue about. In other words, it wasn’t exactly his preferred choice of subject matter.

All day, the voices had been screeching at him to ask Purpled more about what he knew of Greek mythology, but Tommy had ignored them. He wasn’t scared, f*ck whatever the voices said. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. Big man Tommy didn’t get scared. He just wasn’t prepared for the weird look he’d probably get from the boy when it inevitably turned out he knew absolutely f*ck-all. So he stayed quiet, letting the hum of voices from the kitchen wash over him.

It was comforting, in a way. Knowing that two of the people he cared about most were just feet away from him, and that he could reach them without issue if the need arose.

CLINGYINNIT

Awwww

gods, tom really does have a thing for collecting f*cked up kids, huh?

FRRR

How’s Purp f*cked up?

Oh!

Message deleted by moderator

Hush right now you spoiler-y motherf*ckers

sorry clem :(

I still don’t get how Purp is f*cked up?

It’s all good, dw

PURPLED

guess you’ll have to wait and see lmao

>:(

LLLLL

No, f*ck what the voices said. He was not clingy, and he was certainly not going to adopt Purpled. If anything, that was Eret’s job.

Barely anyone came in the rest of his shift, a grand total of five customers that entire afternoon. It didn’t even get busy around the evening rush, meaning Eret was left with entire boxes of leftovers that wouldn’t be fresh enough to put out the next day. Tommy found the emptiness almost worrying. There were always people up around District 9, it was a well-known commercial area. The lack of people was weird at best, and downright concerning at worst. Tommy tried his best to push the concern from his mind. District 9 wasn’t his area, not even close, and the heroes usually did a halfway decent job at keeping it safe. When they failed, the area still had Nemesis, Apollo, and Midas to protect them. Tommy trusted the three vigilantes, and if anything serious went down then he would definitely know.

Purpled offered to drop the leftover goods off at the homeless shelter he always passed on the way home, which Eret agreed to with relief. When it came time for them to leave, Eret pushed a number of boxes into Purpled’s arms, Tubbo and Tommy each taking a few to ease the load, and Tommy couldn’t help but notice how distracted xey looked as he waved them away.

All three teens walked the same way, at least for a while, and Tommy and Purpled both listened closely to Tubbo’s words, Purpled nodding along in understanding while Tommy just asked basic questions that Tubbo was more than happy to answer, albeit a little haphazardly (he still hadn’t explained what the f*ck agent blue was, or why it was used in one war or another). It was about five minutes into their journey that Purpled turned down a separate street, calling out a quick farewell that Tubbo returned jovially. Before he could change his mind, Tommy also spoke up. “Bye, Purp!” He called out as the boy turned a corner. The echoing footsteps stopped abruptly for a moment, almost short enough for him to trick himself into thinking he’d imagined it, before they picked up again. Tommy groaned quietly as the voices cheered, and Tubbo snorted at his pain.

“Oh those f*cking pricks, I swear they’ll be the death of me one day.” He muttered, slamming a palm into the side of his head. His friend pried his hand away, tugging Tommy down the street and laughing loudly as he did, joining in with Tommy as he made fun of the voices for a minute before continuing to explain the Geneva Convention.

Three hours later, and Tommy was vehemently wishing to be back at the café, bored out of his mind as he rolled a cup across the counter.

Of f*cking course, his first patrol that week would coincide with Dolos’ first patrol since… Well, a while. The hero had barely been out recently, and it wasn’t exactly a surprise that the first thing he did was seek a confrontation with Theseus. Dolos seemed almost fixated on the vigilante, and in any other situation Tommy might’ve called him a creep. But, well, it was a bit hard to throw insults with a boot firmly wedged into his chest. He was on a roof, – which was another thing, why always a roof? What was the hero’s thing with roof’s? Tommy wasn’t even on them much, preferably either in the air or in the streets, but for some reason Dolos only ever seemed to confront him when they were on a f*cking roof – laying on his back, the wind having been knocked out of him. He hadn’t even been able to test out his new temperature idea for his powers yet, which really sucked.

Aether was nowhere in sight, and it was unlikely the guy would step in anyway. Tommy didn’t blame them, but it would’ve been nice to see a familiar face while having the sh*t beat out of him. A wheezing gasp of air escaped him, and he caught the glint of wild satisfaction in Dolos’ eyes. That f*cking prick wasn’t even just trying to apprehend him anymore, no, the green bastard enjoyed this.

If he was being honest, Tommy wasn’t quite sure what drew the hero to him. Was it the clashing colour schemes? Actually, that wouldn’t be too surprising. The guy did seem petty enough to create an entire rivalry based solely around that. Was it that Theseus was so charismatic? Well-liked? Another masked man, blonde and funny, that reminded Dolos a little too much of himself? Did he think Tommy was trying to steal his spotlight? At that moment, Tommy couldn’t bring himself to care. He quite liked breathing, really enjoyed it actually, and didn’t really want to stop right now. With what little vestiges of strength he had left, he blasted a flash of light towards the hero’s face.

The man grunted, stepping away from Tommy and pulling a hand up to shield his eyes. Panting, Tommy pulled himself up, scrambling away until his back hit a wall. They were on top of an apartment block, because of-f*cking-course they were, one of the taller ones in Pogtopia. It was a windy evening, and the air blowing around Tommy almost drowned out his thudding heart. He moved towards the fire escape, eyes still locked on the hero when-

The bastard glowed a sickening green, and suddenly five Dolos’ stood before him. Tommy swore under his breath and tried to focus on the original version of the hero as two copycats launched themselves at him.

Dolos’ power was weird, to say the least. When he copied things, they were, in every sense of the word, physical. They could throw punches, they could cause damage. But the more he multiplied at once, the less and less physical they became. They would flicker, one moment real, the next seeming to be nothing more than a glitchy hologram. Tommy had never tested his limits, and today was not the day to start trying. He jumped out of the way, careening across the roof and towards what he thought was the original hero. The man dove out of the way, rolling across the roof, and Tommy was swift to follow him as a Dolos landed where he’d been standing moments before. Tommy rugby tackled the hero, and watched with satisfaction as the other Dolos’ flickered momentarily. Bingo. He pictured the beam of light in his head, moulding it like clay in his hands, and then he was holding what looked to be a stick of pure light. It was warm, not painfully so, but he could change that. Probably. Well, technically, he’d never actually tried. But hey, first time for everything right?

He threw the stick of light towards the hero, letting it wrap around his wrist with a snap as he concentrated on raising the temperature. He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected, but judging by the pained grunt Dolos let out, it seemed to work well enough. The man glowed faintly, and wrenched the thing away from his wrist with a hiss. Behind him, two Dolos’ popped out of existence.

All this happened in the space of about five seconds, and Tommy was already moving by the time Dolos had freed his wrist. He pulled more light towards him, creating an airborne bridge to the next roof over. Just as his feet met concrete, a green flash appeared and he forced himself to skid to a halt as boulders rained down in front of him. Most of them stopped mere inches from crashing into the roof, one not quite halting in time and falling with a dull thud into the concrete. Cracks splintered around it, and the whole building shook. Tommy heard the hero swear, knew this was his mistake. Knew the hero would get away scott-free anyway. Knew the media would blame the reckless vigilante for this f*ckup.

MOVE

sh*t GET OUTT THE WAY

he’s there

f*ckf*ckf*ck

The rocks caused Tommy to falter, giving the green-clad hero time to land before him, banishing the boulders with a dismissive wave of his hand. His mask seemed to glow stronger than usual, unnerving smile bright in the darkened air. Under the mask, though, Tommy would bet good money the hero was doing anything but. What little could be seen of his eyes were drawn into a tight frown, and Tommy could almost feel the anger radiating off him. He allowed another strip of light to materialise in his hands, backing towards the edge of the roof.

The hero snarled, stepping towards him, and Tommy let the strip of light go, chucking it right at the man. It wrapped around his neck this time, the same snap as before sounding as it wrapped around. Dolos let out a choked sound, bringing his hands up to claw at the binding, and the final two holographs dissipated with a pop. Tommy hesitated for a moment, allowing himself to concentrate on turning the heat up on the band, before turning almost sprinting down the fire escape.

He was like... 90% sure that Dolos wouldn’t die. In all honesty, he’d be more than pleased if the guy did, but he knew Aether wouldn’t. And, well, even Tommy could understand the impact the hero had on society. If the number 2 hero was found dead, killed by a random vigilante no less, all hell would break loose. Crime would skyrocket, Theseus would become so much more than his original use, the face of an already brewing cause, the Hero Tower’s competence would be scrutinised to hell and back. Tommy did not want to be the cause of all that.

He hesitated for a moment, about three floors down, unsure whether to turn back and just double check the hero wasn’t dead. Before he could turn back, however, a yell came from the roof.

…Yeah, the guy sounded fine. The person who wouldn’t be fine if he chose to stick around, though, was Tommy, and he made the very wise decision to get the f*ck out of there before anymore chaos could be caused.

-0-

Stumbling into the apartment, almost twenty minutes later, Tommy wasn’t exactly surprised to be met with silence. Tubbo was rarely awake by the time he got home, and this proved to be just as true today. The only thing that did surprise him was that Tubbo had actually gotten into bed before sleeping.

Huh.

He usually ended up passing out at his desk, or, on better days, the sofa. Seeing him actually possess the common sense to fall asleep in the bed instead of passing out in his desk chair was, realistically, not something Tommy thought he’d ever see. Still, he wasn’t complaining. He did huff a little at the realisation that Tubbo was getting gear grease (which was something Tommy would have to ask about, what in the world was the boy making?) all over the covers, but smiled fondly nonetheless and pulled the covers up to his friends chin.

He was quick to change out of his vigilante costume, ducking into the bathroom and pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt before brushing his teeth with a grimace and face planting onto the sofa. It was cold. Which was to be expected, after being left unused for hours on a chilly February day, but still made goosebumps rise along Tommy’s arms. He turned onto his back, pressing down on the goosebumps and staring up at the ceiling as he scratched absentmindedly at the scar that ran across his left wrist. He hissed as his nails caught a rough patch of healing skin, quickly taking his hand away from the wound. Dammit, he could never just leave the blasted thing alone. It was no wonder the scar never fully healed, half the time it was scratched back into a fresh wound.

Logically, it should’ve healed. This particular scar wasn’t even his worst one, far from it in fact, and there was a decent chance the scar would be mostly faded at this point, if not for the fact that Tommy kept f*cking picking at it. Not consciously, he didn’t really mean to, it was just a habit. It helped ground him, and he’d done it for so long. So he just… never stopped. He couldn’t even remember when he started.

In all honesty, he could barely even remember where – or, more accurately, when – he’d actually gotten the scar. Whether that was due to how long it had been, or some cleverly blocked memories, Tommy wasn’t quite sure. Either way, it was a bit of a blur. He remembered shouting, screaming, but that didn’t exactly help narrow it down. Most of his formative years involved shouting and screaming. And blood, lots of blood.

He remembered being thrown against the wall, a burst of pain coming from both his head and his hand as a knife slashed across the back of his wrist, red seeping to the sandy ground. He didn’t remember much else of that fight, only that he’d won. He always did.

What he did remember, with surprising clarity, was his brother’s exasperation for weeks after it began to heal, as Tommy couldn’t stop scratching at it even then. He’d been constantly scolded, warned that it might never heal, or even that it might get infected, if he didn’t stop picking at it. It never got infected, and he never stopped picking at it.

Shrugging off the thought with a groan, Tommy rolled over once more, attempting fruitlessly to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in. From his position on the sofa, he could just about see the bookshelf in the corner. He’d actually acquired a rather impressive collection of books in his years, especially considering his lack of funding. His eyes lingered on the original four that sat on the highest shelf, almost out of reach, and he sighed.

Then, his eyes drifted a few shelves down, to the five books he’d been gifted by Eret. Two were from birthdays, a collection of Greek myths and a complete A-Z of animals. The other three were from Christmas. Two of them were fiction, dystopians, as Tommy had thought the concept was pretty cool after Eret explained it properly. Nineteen Eighty-Four, and The Hunger Games. Nineteen Eighty-Four had been good, and Eret had listened intently to Tommy’s lengthy rant about it. He never managed to get through The Hunger Games. It wasn’t a bad book, but it was just. It hit a little close to home.

Tommy had barely even gotten to chapter twelve before he had to put it down. Eret never questioned why he didn’t bring it up, but made sure to avoid similar books in future. The final one on the shelf was a mythology crossword book that he’d been given just a few months before. He hadn’t finished it yet, as it covered not only Greek and Roman mythology, but also Egyptian, Norse, Celtic, and even Aztec mythology. None of which Tommy was partially well-versed in, so he’d taken to researching them in his free time.

He was tired. Still staring at the bookshelf, Tommy’s eyelids began drooping. Soon, he was fighting to keep his eyes open. He quickly realised, however, that it was a losing battle, and eventually let his mind drift into unconsciousness. Despite his best efforts, however, the sound of screaming crowds and howling voices still consumed his memories.

Chapter 18: Soldier Toys (Bereft of Life)

Chapter Text

Blood, blood on his hands. Blood in his mouth. Blood in his hair. Blood on the floor, a reddish tint to his vision. Everywhere he looked, there was blood. So much blood. A hand curled around his shoulder, tight, tight, too tight, and he needed to get away but-

He couldn’t. Instead, he looked up. The hand was connected to an arm, arm clad in a fancy blazer sleeve. There wasn’t a spot of blood on it, or anywhere else on the man. He kept his eyes locked on the man. If he just looked hard enough, he could almost convince himself there wasn’t any blood anywhere else around him either. Almost.

The face that the arm was connected to smiled cruelly down at him, eyes glinting dangerously in the light and horns curled forward into deadly sharp points. His lips were moving, but his words sounded like they were being shouted through water.

Tommy let his mind drift. It was always better to drift, he found, to let himself sink into the comfort of nothingness, only the steady flow of voices to calm him. The man was still talking, but Tommy didn’t focus until the hand on his shoulder squeezed impossibly harder, and it took everything in him not to flinch away violently. Instead, he allowed himself to be led from the arena, trying his best not to trip over his own feet. The tunnels were winding, the journey felt longer than usual. Tommy was still drifting, only paying the slightest attention to the constant drip drip drip of blood hitting the floor.

Drip.

He wasn’t sure what happened to the other fighter. Well, realistically he knew. They were probably dead, he reasoned. That was how The Pit worked. Eat or be eaten, kill or be killed.

Drip

Vaguely, Tommy wondered where exactly the blood was coming from. Was it his? The drip didn’t seem to stop. His wrist hurt like hell, and he could feel blood from that running down his hand. Maybe that was it. Hopefully it wasn’t bad. Or maybe it was just the blood he could feel in his hair, not his own, flattening the blonde curls to his head and dying them a sickly rust red. Or it might be the blood he could feel on his shorts, weighing them down and making them stick to his legs. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t think he’d ever be sure.

Drip

The hallway floor was uneven, and Tommy stumbled as he was led down it. But he didn’t fall. He couldn’t fall, falling in a place like The Pit wasn’t just falling. It was condemnation, it was a display of weakness. It was the certainty of death. Drip

The walls were lined with cages, a terrifying number of them, and peeking into them he could just about see occasional flashes of life.

Drip

The bright white of an eye. An eye that might once have been blue, but now had been turned a dull, stormy grey, staring at him pityingly through the cage. An eye not unlike his own.

Drip

A shadowed figure, huddled under a purple blanket. Shaking.

Drip

A frighteningly pale child with stringy brown hair who looked to be even younger than Tommy himself.

Drip

He flinched away from the bars. The last time he asked, .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ told him that he was eight years old. That sounded like a big number, and he always made sure to tell .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ as much, even though .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ said that his age of twelve was still bigger, and he needed to listen to .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ because of that.

Drip

He was still eight, a big boy, old enough to understand. But right now, regardless of what anyone said, he felt so, so small.

Drip

Drip

Drip

Drip

Drip

Drip

“Tommy? You good there, king?”

A familiar voice broke through the mist of his sleep-addled mind, and Tommy shot up with a sharp gasp. Instinctively, he reached a hand towards his face, wincing when it came away wet with tears. He blinked the sleep away, and finally focused on the face hovering anxiously over him. Wild brown hair, partially hiding a pair of inquisitive green eyes that were staring at him with concern.

With a groan, Tommy pulled himself into a sitting position. A tear rolled down his cheek, landing on the floor with a plop. He scrubbed violently at his face, causing it to flush red from either irritation or embarrassment, cracking his neck from side to side as he did.

“Tubbo! My man, my guy! How’re you this fine morning? Sleep well?” Tommy rambled, clapping his hands as he stretched. Sighing at his friend's obvious deflection, Tubbo chuckled lightly. “I’m good, but we do need to head out soon if we want to catch the train.”

Tommy hummed, allowing Tubbo to pull him to his feet. Tubbo was still glancing at him with worry, a question clearly half-formed on his lips, but it never came. Instead, Tommy simply grinned with his usual prickly bravado and sauntered towards the bathroom in a terrible parody of casualness. He got dressed quickly, not bothering to brush his teeth and instead hurrying over to stand beside Tubbo, tugging his shoes on as his friend waited in front of the door with an amused look on his face.

He pulled open the door as Tommy finally finished tying his laces, and rolled his eyes as Tommy rushed out and down the stairs. Closing the door behind him, Tubbo followed the blonde boy down the stairs and out into the chilly morning air.

An hour passed. Two. Three, and Tommy was standing behind the counter, humming to himself. Tubbo was just behind him, fiddling joyously with the coffee machine, Eret finally having given in and allowed him to tinker with it in hopes of avoiding any wasted money. Which was probably about the most reckless thing their boss could do, because if Tubbo messed up it was very likely that the coffee machine wouldn’t be the only thing Eret had to worry about replacing.

It was a Friday, meaning Purpled wouldn’t be in after lunch. Rather, it would be just the three of them, just like it used to be. Despite the fact it had been less than a week of the boy working there, the afternoon felt too quiet, too empty, without Purpled’s calm presence.

He could tell Tubbo could feel the difference too, no longer having anyone who would understand or be able to parry his scientific knowledge. Instead, he did his best to make Tommy understand the difference between gamma, beta, and alpha rays. As of yet he was failing miserably, recently having finished fixing the coffee machine (with minimal explosions, much to Eret’s delight) and choosing to spend his time sitting on the front counter, with no regard as to the confused and disdainful looks he was garnering from customers.

It was only just gone four when a familiar face entered the cafe, which had been almost empty up to that point. When Tommy looked up to the sound of the bell, he had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Walking into the cafe, a familiar mop of curly, mid-length brown hair pushed out of his face so they didn’t hide the pair of coffee-brown eyes that were drawn into a smile when they caught sight of Tommy.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite barista! Sorry it’s been a while, Toms, I’ve been absolutely swamped with work. How are you?”

Tommy nodded, already in the process of making Wilbur’s coffee order (a black coffee with four shots of ristresso, as they’d managed to negotiate it down to). “I’m okay, same as ever. So, what do you do for work that’s got you this busy then?” He pried, hesitating for a moment in case he’d overstepped some invisible boundary. As it was, Wilbur seemed to flounder a few seconds too long, causing Tommy to almost take back the question. But the man just shrugged, smiling with something akin to embarrassment.

“Ah, well, I’m an ambulance driver, kinda a paramedic I guess. As you can imagine, it's been a bit hectic lately what with all the attacks and stuff. I also write and produce songs, but I’m still waiting on that one to hopefully take off.” Wilbur grinned as he finished speaking, the air of apprehension he first seemed to radiate vanishing as he spoke about his music. Tommy reflected his smile, nodding along while waiting for the coffee machine to come to a stop. “Oh cool! You’re gonna have to show me your music sometime man, I want to hear the kind of sh*t you make.”

Wilbur laughed fondly, shaking his head at the blonde boy. “One day, maybe. I’m planning to start a band, maybe find some local people. A drummer, maybe. Bassist. I write and play guitar, but maybe someone else for guitar too. Depends, really.”

Tommy hummed, not entirely sure what Wilbur was talking about, but happy for the guy nonetheless. He wasn’t much of a music guy, in all honesty. Sure, there were good songs, but Tommy had never really had the opportunity nor desire to listen to any that weren’t on the radio at Eret’s or in the films that he watched with Tubbo. Upon voicing his thoughts, Wilbur squawked loudly and held a hand to his heart as if he’d been stabbed. A look of horror crossed his face and Tommy watched in amusem*nt and concern as the man's face slowly morphed into disturbed realisation.

“Tommy… please tell me you know what Hamilton is?”

And… Well, Tommy would be lying if he didn’t find the mournful expression that crossed Wilbur’s face at his next words even slightly amusing. Scrunching up his face, Tommy tried to remember where he’d heard the name before. He was pretty sure Eret had mentioned it once, something to do with history.

“Hamil-what? Isn’t that guy dead?”

The look that Wilbur next gave Tommy was possibly the most emotive expression Tommy had ever seen from the man. And that was saying something, given Wilbur was one of the most theatrical people he knew.

“...what?” Wilbur whispered, looking for all the world as if someone had killed his cat. “Oh no, no no no, we are not having that. No way, that is just- unacceptable! How do you not know the most masterful piece of theatre ever to grace this world?!” He screeched, burying his head in his hands as Tommy finally slid the cup of coffee across the counter with one eyebrow raised. “What? Is it really a cause for concern that I don’t know this Hamtolen guy?” He said, making sure to butcher the name and revelling in the pained groan Wilbur let out in response. “Cause for c- Yes! Yes, it is!”

Tubbo, who had started paying attention as soon as Wilbur’s voice began to rise, now hopped down from where he was sitting and came to stand beside Tommy. Upon hearing Wilbur complaining about Tommy’s lack of knowledge, he scoffed audibly. “Dude, you’d have more luck getting a rock to understand pop culture references than Tom, I promise you you’re wasting time.”

Wilbur blanched, evidently having forgotten they were at Tommy’s workplace. “Oh, is that so? And you’re Tommy’s… coworker? I presume?” He held out a hand, which Tubbo firmly shook before letting it drop just as quickly as he’d shaken it. “Sure. Best friend of over two years, coworker, same difference.” He smiled lightly, no doubt having put two and two together to realise that this was the Wilbur that Tommy spoke about sometimes.

Tommy chose that moment to step in, before Wilbur was subjected to an extensive background check another one of Tubbo’s rambles about nuclear weapons.

“Yeah. Wilbur, this is Tubbo, my best friend. Tubbo, this – as you probably guessed – is Wilbur, the prick who gets radioactive coffee here sometimes.”

The two nodded at each other, a small smile gracing Tubbo’s face. And that in itself was enough of a win in Tommy’s books, anyone who could pass the Tubbo Test™ got an instant ticket of friendship.

“So!” Wilbur clapped, grinning like a madman, “As I was saying about the epic musical saga otherwise known as Hamilton…”

One hour, a promise to watch Hamilton, and three cups of coffee later, Tommy and Tubbo walked out of the cafe and down towards the station, waving a quick goodbye to Eret as they went.

The afternoon had gone fast, Wilbur stayed to talk for a bit before glancing at his watch and letting out a string of swears, darting out of the cafe with an apologetic wave and promise to return. Which Tommy was hopeful the man would stick to, but chances were the pair wouldn’t see him again for a while, especially if the still-increasing activity among the heroes and villains was anything to go by.

The poor guy looked sleep-deprived enough as it was, hopefully he’d get a break soon.

Chapter 19: Runs in Blood Down Palace Walls

Chapter Text

Patrol that evening was, thankfully, Dolos-free. That was by no means to say it was quiet, gods no. It wasn’t hard to see that something was brewing, something big, and a number of petty criminals were taking advantage of the heroes preoccupation. Tommy had a pit in his stomach whenever he thought too hard about what this ‘something big’ was, but realistically he knew there was little to be done about it. The heroes handled any of that until they couldn’t, and then, well, how did the saying go? Enemy of my enemy is my friend? If the threat was big enough, no doubt the heroes would end up using vigilantes and even some villains to help control whatever it was, all while attempting to maintain the facade that they were in control.

That was partly why the system worked so well. The heroes existed to be celebrities, people to look up to, provide a safety net. Villains were born of the corrupt system, and used to keep the heroes relevant until they outstayed their welcome. And vigilantes, well, they were there to clean up the mess. Handle anything too small or dubiously moral for heroes, while following their own rules. And it worked. Until it didn’t.

Hell, maybe that was the disturbance? The change in power, people growing restless with the heroes, villains becoming increasingly romanticised and appearing more frequently, an increase in vigilante arrests. It was… an interesting dynamic, to say the least. It rarely changed, which may well be the reason this shift caused such a disturbance. Tommy only hoped all would be resolved soon, so maybe he could get a good night's sleep.

As if summoned by thought of the system he’d worked his way to the top of, a winged shadow was cast over Tommy, causing him to freeze like a deer in the headlights.

Ah f*ck

eyyy here we goooo

Mmm yay I felt like sh*t had been goiing too well

Yarsss

Bruhh why is he here :sobs: he should be at home wit-

Message deleted by moderator

Spoilers/ref

Sory

CLEM IS RIVER CONFIRMED??

birb here, hyperfixate later

sh*t yeah okey

Yippee angst time

o7

sh*tt

Dam and here I was hoping for a peaceful evening

NEVER

f*ck. He knew he shouldn’t have come this far up, it was stupid. Porphyrion had to take the evening off – much to Tommy’s relief, the guy overworked himself far too much for it to be healthy – because there was something going on with Misthios’ latest deal, apparently. That was about all Tommy could get from him, the young man was infuriatingly cryptic. Still, Tommy promised to cover his typical hunting ground for the evening, even if it caused him to be out a little later than usual. Not like it was a work night, so it’d be fine. But, well, it did mean he’d have to head a few districts higher than usual, all the way into the mid thirties. He should’ve guessed he’d run into trouble.

Tommy would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least slightly enthralled by Ares’ jet black wings. Large, larger than his own would likely ever reach, they were silent as Ares touched down in the street directly in front of where Tommy stood. He folded the onyx wings tight to his back, so just the tips of them poked up from behind his shoulders. Tommy had always wondered if the hero’s wings were real, or if they were just magical shadows. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched, since the wings seemed far too sleek and dark to be natural, and they were almost silent when carrying their owner. Plus, according to the media, Ares’ power was literally just talking to crows, which Tommy deemed far too lame for the number one hero.

But now he stood so close to Ares, close enough to see every rustling feather in his wings, and Tommy’s own wings itched incessantly against their bindings as he was unable to tear his eyes away from the man in front of him. The man who should not be there . Ares never, never , patrolled anywhere below the high twenties. But… Well, hadn’t it been only a few weeks ago he’d been down here last? Maybe that too was born from this changing dynamic amongst everybody.

Tommy knew this likely meant trouble, sure he might not have heard of Ares being the reason for the increase in vigilante arrests, but no doubt the man would revel in finally capturing one of the most famous masked criminals. He didn’t seem like the bragging type, but then again he was the number one hero, and you didn’t get that kind of rank without a bit of a big head along with it.

“Theseus. I heard you weren’t out as often, but apparently I was mistaken.” The hero ruffled his feathers, causing Tommy’s own to strain where they were pressed tight against his back.
“Not mistaken. I’ve got a busy life, Ares, which I’d quite like to return to this evening.” Trying to keep his tone level, Tommy stared defiantly at the hero's face, or what little he could see of it. His fingers tapped a nervous pattern against his thigh, but Tommy didn’t look away.

“Oh? A family of your own? Or do you still live with your parents, surely you can’t be old enough to move out.” The last sentence was posed as a statement, not a question, which had Tommy reaching surreptitiously for his knife. If this man knew his age… Well, Tommy wasn’t sure what else he could find, and honestly didn’t want to leave him coherent enough to find out. “My personal life is none of your concern, Ares, just as yours is none of mine. Now, I really should be going. Wouldn’t want my friends to miss me now, eh?”

A hint of a threat crept into Tommy’s tone, and he allowed it to rest there just long enough to convey his meaning. The hero shifted slightly, but otherwise remained unperturbed. “Well, surely a few minutes conversation won’t cost you much. I just want to talk.”

Now that drew a scoff from Tommy, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh sure, sure. You just want to talk. Of course. Because that’s something that typically happens in our line of work.” He practically drawled, sounding, for a moment, startlingly like his brother. So much so, in fact, that Tommy almost blanched. And he wasn’t the only one, Ares jumping visibly at the change in tone. He co*cked his head to the side for a moment, before muttering something to himself and shaking his head.

“Yes, talk. I have no intentions to make this meeting harder than it needs to be, I understand the need to return to your family. I won’t lie and tell you I wasn’t told to arrest you, but, well. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. I wanted to extend you an offer. You’re a well-liked vigilante, publicly speaking. Your morals are better than most,”

And oh the man better not be about to say what Tommy thinks he is.

“You have some real talent…” Ares’ eyes lingered slightly on the empty air just above Tommy’s shoulder, and he cursed internally at the realisation he probably knew about his wings. Tommy had been a fool to forget that any hero could access the records they no doubt kept on him, and every other vigilante. “I think it would be beneficial for us all if you were trained to be a proper hero, none of this idiotic vigilante-ing sh*t. You could do so much good for the SMP. And it would help you, too. No more running. You could be granted immunity for all your past misdeeds. You could be rich, famous, anything you wanted. You could have friends, real ones, not criminals.”

If Tommy wasn’t annoyed enough already, it was that last sentence that pushed him over the edge. His Lycomedes, if you will. In any other situation he might’ve laughed at the insinuation that he’d abandon Tubbo for some fame and money. But the hero was serious , and that made it impossibly worse. The man stood so brazenly, offering Tommy a life worse than death, with not even a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Tommy didn’t laugh. No, instead he held up both hands to flip off the hero as he backed away.

“Are you actually out of your f*cking mind? You think I’d give up all this, everything I’ve fought for, just so I could have financial security and work for a sh*tty government? And here I thought Dolos was delusional. Guess that’s how the ranking system works then, huh. Who can stick their head the furthest up their own arse? Of course, why else would you stay in that clusterf*ck of a system otherwise? f*ck this, I’m out. Night, Ares.” Tommy snorted mirthlessly, turning on his heel and walking silently away down the street. Which in itself was an incredibly brave – or incredibly stupid – idea, turning his back on a hero. Which proved to bite him in the ass, as a rush of wind behind him was all the warning he got before a grip tightened around his wrist.

“Theseus, stop.”

The words were even, level, not even a slight anger to them, but still Tommy felt his pulse raise. Ares was grabbing his wrist. No one, no one , grabbed Tommy’s wrist. Not unless their name was Tubbo or Eret, and Tommy would bet a good sum of money that this man’s name was neither. He twisted away suddenly, panic filling his mind. Which…

Okay, in retrospect, Tommy could see why it may not have been his wisest move to do that when it was an avian grabbing him. The whole ‘brittle bones’ thing was kind of important there, but the thought didn’t even cross his mind as he jerked the man's forearm away, bending it awkwardly. Neither the resounding snap that echoed down the street, nor the sharp gasp of pain from the hero in front of him, were what Tommy intended.

No, they were not what Tommy had intended as he twisted away from the hero, but he still took full advantage of the situation, only allowing the slightest sliver of regret to cross his mind before bolting away, turning back only momentarily to catch a glimpse of the avian doubled over, hand clutched to his chest, frantically muttering into his comms.

Well f*ck.

Chapter 20: All Because of That Most Insidious of Emotions:

Chapter Text

Immediately after returning home, Tommy flopped onto the sofa, passing out almost as soon as his head hit the cushion. Who would’ve guessed that snapping a hero's wrist would be so exhausting?

His sleep was, unsurprisingly, dreamless. And, significantly more surprisingly, nightmareless too. Not a single unwelcome thought forced its way into his head, which was a strange but not unhappy change.

He slept soundly, which was not a thing Tommy could often boast of, for almost fourteen hours. Which, while undoubtedly bad for his health, felt amazing. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so rested. And he might have continued to sleep if he hadn’t been woken, as had become the fashion, by a shrieking Tubbo.

“YOU f*ckING SNAPPED ARES’ ARM? AND DIDN’T EVEN THINK TO TELL ME?!” The short boy practically threw himself onto the sofa, Tommy only just scrambling out of the way as his friend crashed down beside him. He pushed himself up fully with a huff and a yawn, shrugging heavily. “In my defence, you were asleep when I got home. Also I was tired.”

Tommy stood, cracking his neck with a sigh and making his way around the sofa to the kitchen for some much-needed breakfast. Lunch? Dinner? What was the cut-off time for each of those? Technically, he hadn’t eaten since the previous day, so it would still be considered breakfast, right?

“Yeah, figured as much. I’ve been up since about midday, it’s just gone six now. I was starting to worry you’d died, bossman.” Tubbo trailed close behind as Tommy rummaged through the cupboards, fixing him with an interrogative stare. Gods, the boy could mother-hen as much as Eret at times, which was an achievement in itself. Tommy – very cleverly, if he said so himself – was quick to divert the conversation topic away from that particular line of questioning.

“Ah sh*t, six already? I was hoping to get on patrol early, got someone to meet and then I’ll probably come back sooner than usual.” He didn’t quite meet Tubbo’s inquisitorial eyes, instead choosing to wave a banana in front of his face and wander towards the bedroom. Tubbo sighed from behind him, and Tommy could almost hear the boy roll his eyes.

Tubbo/pos

yeee we luv beeboi

MMMM friendship

gods lets savour it while it lasts

WHATDO YOU MEANNN

you know perfectly wellwhat i mean

Nuh-uh

Denial

CLINGYDUO POGGGG

tmmyHeart

WEEEEE

o7

…Why are we o7-ing?

NotLikeThis

“Sure thing, Tommy. Let me know when you leave, and if you get back much after midnight I’ll probably be asleep, ‘kay?” The brunette sounded tired, but not annoyed. He let Tommy shut himself in the bedroom with little fanfare, instead retiring himself to the – really, his – desk. It was only a few minutes later that Tommy heard the faint tell-tell sound of a keyboard clicking away furiously, interrupted only occasionally by a frustrated grunt of whir of machinery.

One day, Tommy swore, when he could afford it, he would make sure Tubbo got a proper lab to tinker away in. No more of the tiny desk in the corner of a sh*tty apartment, but something big. Something big enough to house all his inventions, so he didn’t leave them scattered across the hallway. Something he could work in, properly. Something he deserved. One day.

But until that day came, – and it would, Tommy would make sure of it – he could just do his best to keep on surviving. What’s the saying, you have to walk before you can run? Well, you have to survive before you can live. And Tommy was still working on the whole ‘surviving’ bit, so he was still quite a way off.

-0-

If he thought about it, Tommy might come to the conclusion that the whole vigilante schtick might not have been the best strategy for survival. That maybe he should settle down and let other people handle it. After all, he’d had more traumatic experiences in his fifteen – almost sixteen – years than most would see in a lifetime. And Tommy had thought about it. He’d sat on his window sill for a solid twenty minutes, staring at the darkening city. Then he had laughed, called out a quick goodbye to Tubbo, and promptly thrown himself into the cool evening air.

The next three hours were spent, much like he was used to, making his way around Pogtopia, keeping the place under control. Or as close as it could be. Luckily, – or unluckily, depending. The guy really needed to take more breaks, being out daily could not be healthy – Porphyrion was back on patrol in his usual districts, meaning Tommy didn’t have to cover again. Thank the stars, he really did not enjoy the previous evening's escapades. His fellow vigilante had been as elusive as ever when Tommy asked what the meeting had been about, but he’d had the good grace to let Tommy know he would be back on shift.

It was nearing ten as he finally light-hopped his way across districts 45 and 46, coming to an abrupt halt just within the park of 47, taking a seat on the bench beside the river. The water was higher than usual, no doubt a result of the recent rain storms that had plagued the lower districts these last weeks, and if Tommy leaned forward just a little he was able to dip his toes into the murky depths. He couldn’t see the bottom. Which was to be expected, for ten pm in… well, certainly not the cleanest district.

Tommy could just about make out his reflection, rippling in the river. There wasn’t much to see, what with his mask. Just a smudge of red, a tiny hint of blonde poking out above it where it just about escaped the large hood usually pinned over it. The frame of his glasses stared back at him in the reflection, standing out strangely against the red. In the water, reflected as if he were floating just beneath the surface, shrouded by a thin layer of grime, he seemed… almost dead.

It wasn’t a new look.

Not long passed, maybe two minutes at most, when another face joined his own in the water. This one was unmasked, one side a blinding white that stood clear against the water, the other half barely discernible. A pair of heterochromatic eyes wavered where they reflected, shining brightly. Tommy… didn’t jump, even as Aether lowered themself onto the bench beside him. Huh. That was… unusual, to say the least. But not bad.

“Theseus. Good to- um, see you?” Aether greeted quietly, seemingly unsure as to why, exactly, Tommy had asked him to meet here instead of their usual spot. Which was a fair question, the change in routine not one they’d done before. Still, the question went unasked.

“Good to see you too, Aether. Had a nice week?” Tommy spoke as if it was entirely normal for a hero (in training) and a villain-vigilante to meet and exchange pleasantries on a regular basis. Which, to them, it kind of was. What a world they lived in.

“Uh, yeah, pretty good. I- well- Ares is healing up okay. If you were, um, interested at all.” There was a question hidden in Aether’s words there, too, but Tommy ignored it in favour of keeping his eyes locked on the water that ripped whenever he tapped his foot.

“Good. That’s good. I didn’t mean- I forgot he snapped easy. Bird bones ‘n all that sh*t.”

That garnered a slight chuckle from Aether, who was still shifting where he sat. The silence that followed was heavy, but not awkward. Peaceful. Friendly. Curious.

A minute passed. Two. Three, and Tommy stood with a sigh. He held out a hand to Aether, who stared at it for a moment. It was eerily similar to their initial meeting in the alley, mere minutes after the Mellohi incident. Aether took the hand, and allowed themself to be pulled to his feet. “So, Theseus, care to explain what,” They gestured vaguely around, raising an eyebrow as his shoulders released some of the tension they usually held. “You wanted to meet here for?”

Tommy turned towards the park entrance, tugging Aether along with him. “You,” He paused for dramatic effect, grinning unseen beneath the mask. “Are going to meet Tubbo! When he’s not passed out, I mean. Well, probably. Depends how late we get home, but still.”

Tommy didn’t see as Aether’s eyes widened, the words sinking in slowly. However, he did hear as the boy started spluttering out questions, a slightly panicked tone in their voice. “Sorry- ‘home’? We’re not- I mean surely- You’re not taking me to your actual house , right? Right?! And- Tubbo? He doesn’t- does he know about- um. You? Knowing me?”

“Yes, yes, and nope! In that order, big man. It’ll be fine, I trust you. The most that could go wrong is Tubs blowing up the building if we have to wake him up, so no biggie.” Shrugging, Tommy pretended not to hear the strangled sound his… friend? let out, instead exiting the park at a brisk pace and dragging Aether through the winding streets he knew so well. “It’s not like you haven’t been in our apartment before, I mean you literally helped me get him home after Mellohi.”

Aether groaned, resigned to his fate, and allowed Tommy to lead them around the districts. “That was under completely different circ*mstances! It was an emergency, there was no other option!”

The pair came to a stop suddenly, Aether almost stumbling at Tommy’s abrupt halt. “That’s not true.” The young vigilante started evenly, turning to face the hero. “You could’ve left us.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it seemed louder than a shout in the darkened street. Without missing a beat, Tommy whirled around and continued walking, leaving Aether to gape at him and hurry to keep up.

-0-

The next seventeen minutes were spent turning down street after street, the silence lingering between the two teenagers heavy but not overly awkward. Eventually, Tommy came to a stand-still outside a tall, dilapidated building. While familiar to him, Aether was staring at the apartment complex like it might crumble any second. Which, given the state of the building, wasn’t actually too far fetched.

“Right. We probably shouldn’t just waltz in, given, y’know,” Tommy waved a hand up and down himself, gesturing at the outfit. “The whole ‘vigilante-hero’ thing we got going on. You see that window there?” He pointed to one, about five floors up, which was cracked slightly ajar, the room behind it still lit. “D’you reckon you could teleport us up there? Or just you, I can get up myself if you need.”

Aether nodded, and Tommy was not quite sure which the nod was in response to until he was already caught in a whirlwind of purple. Less than a second later, he felt himself fall onto the familiar ragged carpet of the apartment, Aether shifting around beside him. A loud shriek broke the air.

Uh oh

Tomathy Innit, you idiot

Yyou utter fool

-ish?

Nodders

whoopsies angy Tubzo

Yippee

“WHAT. THE f*ck .”

Ah. Yes. Tubbo. Wincing, Tommy noted that he likely should’ve realised Tubbo would be in the living room when they arrived.

Well no sh*t sherlock

Leave the poor sod alone >:(

TUB

“Uh. Surprise?”

As he maybe should’ve expected, that didn’t go over well. Tubbo shouted angrily, likely at Tommy if he was hearing right. “Tommy putain Innit, qu'est-ce que tu as fait ? Ciels au-dessus, à quoi pensais-tu, nom de Dieu ? Toi idiot!” In an instant, Tommy was being yanked forward, behind Tubbo as the brunette pointed a… screwdriver, apparently the best weapon he could find in that moment, at Aether with an animalistic bleat. sh*t.

The enderian hero yelped, holding their hands above his head as he backed away until their back hit the wall.

“Oohkay, right, well. Probably should’ve, uh, mentioned this. Y’know how I said I was going to meet someone? This is someone. Tubbo, meet Aether. Aether, well, you already know Tubbo. Tubs, you can put the screwdriver down now.”

Luckily, Tubbo did lower the screwdriver, though it remained clutched in his hand. Tommy, doing his best to diffuse the situation, led Aether to the ratty sofa. The hero gingerly lowered himself onto the seat, still glancing wearily at Tubbo. The silence was tense for a moment, none of the three daring to move. Eventually, and much to Tommy’s surprise, it was Aether that broke the silence.

“Y’know, I think I preferred when you were unconscious. It involved significantly less threat of disembowelment.” They commented absently, drawing a surprised laugh from Tommy and a glare from Tubbo.

“What do you mean? How the f*ck do you know me? And you ,”

The shorter teen rounded on Tommy, causing his abrupt laughter to trail off suddenly. “You didn’t possibly think to tell me you’d been making friends with f*cking heroes in your free time? Or that you were going to invite one into our house ?”

Tommy gulped. “...I will admit, that may have been a slight oversight on my part. But too late now! I wanted you and Aether to meet, um, officially. Technically… Well, you remember the day at Mellohi? Where you kinda passed out and then woke up at h- here the next morning. Well that may or may not have been due to Aether over here helping. He, um, got – stole, probably – a health pot for you. Then they teleported us here and we talked for a minute. Since then, we’ve spoken sometimes. Met weekly.”

Tubbo stared between Tommy and Aether, the latter waving awkwardly from their position on the sofa. “Right. Sorry, you’re telling me a hero stole something for some random-arse kids? I don’t- Y’know what, sure. Putain de dieu, sure. So you’ve been meeting up with a hero, weekly nonetheless, and you didn’t even consider that, oh, I don’t f*cking know, maybe your roommate might want to know that kind of sh*t? To-” He cut himself off, glancing at the other person in the room. “Theseus, I love you, but I mean this with all my heart when I say you are one dense motherf*cker.”

And Tommy… Tommy laughed. All tension in the air dissipated, although Tubbo still grumbled under his breath. Aether, who had been looking between the two friends anxiously, again spoke. “Well. I’d really rather have met under, ah, better circ*mstances, but hi anyway. I’m, um, Aether. But you already know that I guess. You’re Tubbo, I already know that too. My pronouns are they/he, just if you wanted to know. What, uh, what are yours?”

They reverted back to stumbling through the words as if he was unused to socialising with new people, which honestly didn’t surprise Tommy. He doubted the young hero got out much, much less met people. The guy sounded almost as hesitant as he had the first few times they spoke, and curled in on themself, apparently trying to make himself seem smaller.

This obviously didn’t work, given he was a solid eight feet tall, but it still somehow served to be a pretty pitiful image.

Tubbo raised an eyebrow, apparently expecting more arrogance, or at least confidence, from the hero. “He/him, dude. It’s… Nice to meet you? I guess? I also would rather not have met quite like this ,” At that Tubbo glared at Tommy, who shrunk away under his gaze with a sheepish grin. “But it’s still nice to meet you either way.”

After the formalities were over, both teenagers turned to stare at Tommy, who just stared back. About a minute passed, before Tubbo rolled his eyes. “...So? Did you have even the slightest semblance of a plan when you thought this up, or did you not think this far ahead?”

Oh. Yeah. Tommy flushed, clapping his hands together. “sh*t. Yeah, um, that particular part of the plan might have slipped by me.” He turned to face Aether. “What time do you have to be back at the tower, big man? Will Dolos get suspicious if you’re here for a bit?”

The hero glanced at their watch, frowning. “Eh, I think I should be alright for a couple hours. He’ll probably ask if I’m back after one, so I’ll need to go about half an hour before then at the latest.” He stretched slightly, leaning further into the sofa. Tommy smiled under his mask. It would be difficult to notice to the untrained eye, but Tommy knew Aether well enough to see when they felt safe. Or at least, as safe as they felt around Tommy. On a good day. Which was a strange thought in and of itself, but he didn’t give it too much notice as he let himself collapse beside Aether, Tubbo seating himself on Tommy’s other side.

“Right!” Tommy said with a grin beneath his mask. “Who wants to watch a film?”

Tubbo instantly brightened, sitting up with renewed energy. “Oh, can we watch BlockWorth? God, I haven’t seen that film in ages!”

“What’s that?” Aether asked, face morphing into confusion. The room fell silent, Tommy and Tubbo staring between each other and Aether. Then, in the space of a second, Tommy let out a pained sound and Tubbo gasped.

“Oh gods, you’ve done it now, he’s not going to shut up-” Tommy bemoaned loudly, crumpling against the sofa as Tubbo started speaking.

“You don’t know BlockWorth?! Even Tom- uh, even Theseus knows more about pop culture than you, and he was underground for the first thirteen years of his life!”

He threw his hands up with an offended huff, and Tommy rolled his eyes amusedly, only briefly worrying about the name slip-up.

“Underground?” Aether questioned, and Tommy winced internally at the questions that were inevitably to come. But, once again, for what must’ve been the second or third time that evening, Aether surprised him, simply tilting his head to the side with a slight smile.

“Like… Like a mole?”

The boy grinned widely, mischief glowing in his eyes. Tubbo paused his grumbling as he thought for a moment, before an evil smile crept onto his face. With a drawn-out sigh, Tommy buried his head in his hands.

“Moleinnit?” Tubbo tested out the name, looking to Aether for confirmation. The hero scrunched up their face at the unfamiliar and seemingly random second half, but brushed it away quickly.

“Moleinnit.” The other teen nodded sagely, before the pair promptly burst into laughter.

Tommy flipped them both off, groaning into his arms.

“I’m not a f*cking mole!”

Chapter 21: Hope

Chapter Text

They ended up watching BlockWorth.

Tubbo managed to quote most of it, which would’ve been significantly more impressive if they hadn’t been watching with subtitles, but Tommy knew the boy had it mostly committed to memory anyway.

He’d known Tubbo long enough to no longer be surprised when the boy turned to him and just started quoting sh*t at him (The most memorable time being when the power went out at Eret’s, plunging the kitchen into darkness, and without missing a beat Tubbo turned to him and said, in a menacing voice “How can I sound anything silly? I’m plastic! Don’t turn on the light.” before turning back as if nothing happened. Tommy didn’t move until the power came on.).

Still, Aether seemed surprised, understandably, at the shorter teen’s ability.

Maybe this wasn’t quite what the hero had expected, after all, the last time he’d seen Tubbo, the brunette was curled up, unconscious and injured, after the absolute nightmare that was the Mellohi incident. Now… Well, now he was decidedly not that.

Despite their rocky start – read, Tubbo holding Aether at screwdriverpoint while yelling – Tubbo seemed to have almost completely integrated Aether into their group. This came as both a relief and a surprise to Tommy, who’d been expecting much more open hostility from his friend. But there was something about Aether, maybe the whole sad wet cat energy they had going for them, that made him almost impossible to stay wary of without feeling at least a little bad.

But even so. Of all the people in the world that Tommy expected to trust a random child training to be a hero teleporting into their living room, Tubbo wouldn’t be his first pick. Or his second. Or even in the top twenty, and Tommy was pretty sure he couldn’t so much as name so many people. Well, that was a lie. Tommy couldn’t name so many living people. No, he’d been right the first time. Tommy didn’t think he could name that many people, dead or alive.

The film finished just before midnight, and Tommy found himself to be trapped between two half-asleep teenagers. He sat awkwardly, deathly still, almost afraid to move in case he disrupted the serene expression that had settled across Aether’s face or the ferocity at which Tubbo had attached himself to his arm. He was almost used to Tubbo curling up beside him at this point, even falling asleep on his shoulder occasionally. With Tubbo, it wasn’t quite common, sure, but it wasn’t exactly rare either.

Aether was another story completely. Tommy didn’t think he would ever meet someone quite as f*cked up as himself, until the anxious hero in training had wandered into his life.

Tubbo was in close second though.

Tommy ignored the thoughts of his brother that tried to force their way into his head. Dead people, he decided, didn’t count. Their lives couldn’t be f*cked up if they weren’t living, after all.

And so, despite the tingling in his arm that no doubt meant pins and needles, he allowed them to sit. Tubbo mumbled something, turning so his face was smushed into Tommy’s shoulder and tightening his grip on Tommy’s arm. Aether also shifted beside him, a slight frown creasing their face as he napped.

They didn’t quite look peaceful , Tommy wasn’t sure they ever could, but he looked, at least to some extent, content. Or, as close to content as one could be in a situation like his. Namely, the whole ‘abused child hero with more social anxiety than could possibly be considered normal’ thing. But his point still stood.

It was with no small amount of hesitation that – approximately twenty minutes later – he woke Tubbo, and subsequently Aether, in preparation for the hero’s return to their house. Did the guy even have a house? Did he live with Dolos? Or in the heroes tower? Did Dolos have a house? Not that it was really any of his business, but still. Curiosity. Tubbo would have reminded him that curiosity killed the cat, but Tommy wasn’t a cat so he’d be fine. And anyway, satisfaction brought it back.

He woke Tubbo first, the boy grumbling and batting him away for at least a minute before sitting up with a grin, as if he’d never been asleep in the first place. Tubbo was weird like that. Aether woke faster, shooting up with a gasp as Tommy shook him gently, apologies already spilling from their lips.

Holding up his hands placatingly, Tommy backed away as the enderian attempted to regain control of his wheezing breath. Tubbo stared on with wide eyes, frowning slightly. Eventually, after a minute of heavy breathing, Aether spoke. “Sorry. About that. Yeah. What’s, ah, what’s the time?” They muttered, and Tommy opened his mouth to ask about the panic attack, as that was what it seemed to be, before a sharp kick to the shin cut him off.

“Eight minutes to midnight, bossman.” Tubbo said briskly, clapping his hands together and giving Tommy a meaningful glance. “When did you need to be going by again?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I should- now, actually.” The hero rushed out, already picking himself up off the sofa. ”Yeah, I have an early meeting with Dolos tomorrow, so now would be a good time to leave. Early night and all that.” They rambled on for a moment, before cutting himself off with a sigh.

Tubbo was already on his feet, moving around the sofa and into the kitchen. That left Tommy standing awkwardly as his friend banged around, sounding as if he’d just upended an entire china shop in the kitchen. “Oi, Aether, d’you want a pear?” Tubbo hollered, far louder than was strictly necessary given the tight space.

“Wh- Huh?” The hero furrowed his brow, glancing to Tommy, who met their confused gaze with an equally confused shrug. Tubbo reappeared quickly, sticking his head around the fridge door. “You’ve been here for about two hours, and I really doubt that you’ve eaten anything for at least a few hours before that. You need food, king.”

Tommy snorted, he knew those words far too well. Honestly, if Tubbo kept saying sh*t like that one day he’d be mistaken for Eret. Aether looked slightly uncomfortable, but took the offered pear with a grateful smile. The hero didn’t bite into it, and Tommy raised his eyebrows at the boy, but noted with a smile that they didn’t put it down either. Tommy, too, grabbed a pear from the bowl and bit into it, mouth full as Aether stammered out another goodbye. He swallowed quickly, coughing as a chunk of pear caught in his throat.

“Aether! Get back safe, and remember you can call whenever, yeah?” He wasn’t quite sure what prompted the sudden words that burst from his chest. Maybe it was the apprehension in the hero’s eyes at the mention of a meeting with their superior. Maybe it was the voices, getting too attached and protective. Or maybe Tommy was just tired and not thinking straight, perceiving every little thing as a threat.

Whichever it was, Aether blinked at him for a moment before nodding quickly and, pear still gripped in their hand, teleporting out of the apartment with a slight ‘Pop’.

Tommy sighed, and let himself fall onto the sofa with a grin plastered across his face. The sofa dipped beside him as Tubbo joined him, also clutching a pear. That… Well, that went pretty good, if Tommy did say so himself. And he did, because he was simply amazing like that. Silence permeated the room, the only sound being Tubbo’s slow chewing beside him.

“Tommy.”

o7 king

tmmyBonk

RIP Tomathy Innit

That is not his name lmaoo :skull:

Uh Oh Tub Is Pissed

You typing like that makes *me* pissed

we’re in som uch trouble

lmao

frrrr we’re f*cked

o7

tmmy7

Ah. Ah, sh*t, that was Tubbo’s infamous ‘you’ve-f*cked-up’ voice. Tommy winced, and the air inside the apartment seemed to rise at least three degrees in warmth. “...Tubbo. My guy. Tubster. Big T. What can I do for you king?”

When he next spoke, Tubbo’s voice was almost bone-chillingly calm, reaching a tone Tommy could never even hope to compete with.

“Do you care to explain what, exactly, you thought you were doing, bringing a f*cking hero into our apartment? Our apartment which, may I remind you, houses not only an illegal vigilante, but the runaway son of a human trafficker and all of his files, which exist in varying degrees of legality.” He paused, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

“WHAT. IN THE NAME OF THE SKIES. WERE YOU THINKING.”

Tommy looked at the floor as his friend exploded, – not literally, thank the gods, but the smoke pouring from his hands showed that he wasn’t far off – Tubbo waving his arms around wildly.

“You- Oh Le Christ à vélo you are so f*cking lucky the poor bastard is likeable or I would’ve- Skies, you realise how incredibly idiotic that was? You had no idea- You had no idea they were trustworthy, you have no idea — and chances are he has no idea either — if there was a tracker on them, Dieux, espèce de salaud insensé, you had no idea that I wouldn’t shoot the both of you in the head right there and then after teleporting into our living room and giving me no prior warning ! Tommy Innit, you are such a f*cking dumbass.” He finished breathlessly, expression halfway torn between anger and exasperation.

Tommy opened and closed his mouth a few times before sucking in a sharp breath of air. “I’m… I’m sorry. Really, Tubs, it was a stupid decision. I wasn’t thinking, I just wanted you to meet Aether because they remind me a bit of me and of you and… and I want to help him but- But I know it was rash. I should’ve told you first, talked to you, instead of hiding that sh*t. It won’t happen again, big man.”

“Damn f*cking right it won’t,” Tubbo grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. “But I get why you didn’t tell me. You’re still an idiot, but I guess I signed up to deal with your idiocy when I moved in. I get what you mean though. Aether… They’re weird. I can see why you… But yeah. You need to get that f*cking saviour complex under control before you start bringing in strays faster than Eret. Next thing we know you’ll be getting bloody Purpled to move in with us.”

“...”

“Oh don’t you f*cking dare-”

“IN MY DEFENCE, THE VOICES WANT HIM TO-”

Chapter 22: I Might Have to be Ready For This

Chapter Text

One week. All Tommy wanted was one perfectly normal week. One week, with no explosions or panic attacks or hero run-ins or dramatic battles.

Evidently, this was far too much to ask.

And sure, he may not exactly be the picture of innocence in this specific regard, after all, he was the one that chose to don a mask and cape most evenings and take to the streets like some knock-off batman. But still. He hadn’t even been on patrol all that much recently, not since the previous Saturday, when he invited Aether round. That had been three days ago, and the week seemed to have started off relatively normal since then.

It was comfortingly mundane.

Work had been the same as ever, if he ignored the fact that Purpled had shown up with a black eye on Monday and it had taken all of Tommy’s willpower to subdue the voices for more than three seconds for the rest of that afternoon.

But, aside from that minor drama, all seemed well. Purpled seemed unchanged, and waved off Eret’s concerns with a half-hearted explanation of “got mugged, I’m fine.” The answer was… not particularly satisfactory, but Tommy would be hypocritical in pretending he hadn’t done similar things. So, rather than jumping to any wild conclusions, he simply made a mental note of the incident and made sure to pay more attention in case of any future issues.

Niki came in on Tuesday morning, ordering a coffee and exchanging jokes with Tommy for a few minutes before disappearing to talk about… well, whatever it was she usually talked about with Eret. Certainly not something he was privy to. Not that he minded, of course, he was just interested to know how they knew each other. It shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did, and they seemed close, but he didn’t remember Eret mentioning her before he’d found her bag on the train that day. He had to admit, he was curious.

Other than her, however, no familiar faces appeared on either Monday or Tuesday. Wilbur, despite his promise to return, hadn’t been seen in the café since the previous Friday. And sure, while the man had no technical obligation to come by, Tommy had been really looking forward to purposefully misquoting Hamilton in front of him. He’d even read up on the blasted musical for that exact reason, but no such luck.

No, instead he’d gotten two perfectly average work days. Well, maybe not exactly average. They were probably a bit weird compared to a normal person, but that was to be expected. He was Tommy Innit after all. Still, that had to be some kind of record, surely? But he was Tommy Innit, and life was never normal. Life was never kind, either, and Tommy Innit was not known for his good luck.

So the phone call really shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

It was late Tuesday evening, a little past nine, and Tubbo and Tommy had both returned home from work a few hours prior. They had decided on an early dinner, defrosting a pizza almost as soon as they got back to the apartment and sitting down at the table as they ate. Talking quietly as they ate, Tommy revelled in the routine calmness of it. Tubbo was waving his arms around hectically, doing his best to explain to Tommy in an exasperated tone that no, his powers did not mean that he could just blow people up. People were not nukes. He could not alter biology like that.

Tommy understood that, but played into it a little anyway if only to see the irritated fondness on his friend's face as he went over it again.

After they finished their food and put their plates by the sink – a problem for another day, what was to be expected from two teenagers? – the pair both headed back into the living room. Still chattering quietly, Tubbo swiftly retreated to his desk and Tommy moved away to collapse onto the sofa. They continued their conversation for some time, interrupted only by the occasional hissing or clattering of one of Tubbo’s creations doing something unexpected, before, during a long-winded explanation of the pros and cons of nuclear energy from Tubbo, Tommy’s breath finally evened out.

Tubbo, realising quickly what had happened, stopped talking and glanced over, smiling slightly. He shook his head. Only Tommy could fall asleep during the middle of a conversation like that. He looked at his blonde-haired friend for a few minutes longer before sighing and turning back to his desk, long since having put down his screwdriver and circuit board and instead pulled up a computer and begun writing something.

In theory, it was an almost excruciatingly normal situation. Domestic, in a strange sense, the sounds of Tubbo tapping away at his keyboard accompanied by Tommy’s low breathing (it wasn’t snoring, Tommy did not snore, thank you very much) resonating through the apartment.

That momentary peace was broken as a ringtone forced its way into the calm air.

Oooh ff*ck

yayay we get ✨ angst ✨

Trau ma timeeeee

omg yippee

uh oh

YIPPEE

This is goin gto be fun

Mmmm Can’t Wait :D

nooo my babies :’(

Message removed by moderators

Keep it civil and avoid spoilers please guys

of course

Naturally, Clem

ModPats

Tommy groaned as he rolled onto his side, the burner phone ringing loud where he’d left it beside his head.

The… the burner phone. Playing a ringtone he’d never heard, but knew like the back of his hand anyway. Fighting off his dreary sleepiness, Tommy shot up with a startled yelp, alarm bells in his mind accompanying the sound of the phone call.

His burner phone — or, as it might be more accurate to say, Theseus’ burner phone — didn’t have many contacts. Granted, his normal phone didn’t exactly have many either, but he’d gotten this one specifically for vigilante sh*t. Like a drug dealer, except equally illegal and vaguely more moral. Most of the time. Probably.

That was beside the point though. Essentially, that phone had a grand total of three contacts. Porphyrion, his fellow vigilante, who had been the first person Theseus had given a phone, and subsequently his contact number, to. Henry, the owner of that food stand in XD square who Tommy had somehow reverse-adopted. And, as of a few months ago, Aether. Each of whom had their own individual ringtones, to make it easier to work out who was who in case of emergency.

Thankfully, no such emergency had ever arisen, but Tommy still knew which sound corresponded to who.

None of the three were contacted particularly frequently at all, phone call or not, as more often than not if he needed to speak with any of them then he’d just seek them out himself. Text messages were too easy to intercept, Tubbo and his terrifying abilities were living proof of that. If anything, the phone was for proper emergencies. And the occasional phone call to Aether just to clarify something about their meetings.

Emphasis on phone call to Aether. In the time he’d known the hero, Tommy had never gotten a call from them. He always called first, and the two times they’d messaged, he’d messaged first. That was just how it worked.

So Tommy would say it was perfectly reasonable for him to freak out at least a little bit to see ‘Aether’ displayed as the person calling.

His concern only rose as he picked up the phone, shuddering breath being the only sound coming from it for a good few seconds. Tommy frowned, and, evidently noticing his confusion, Tubbo – who had, until that point, been frozen at his desk, startled by the phone and staring at Tommy – stood up and made his way over.

“Hello? A- Uh, how can I help you?” Tommy asked, remembering just in time not to use names over the phone. Just in case.

There was no response, nothing other than sniffling and heavy breathing. And then…

“Th- Theseus?” A terrified whisper came from the other end, the tone fearful enough to make Tommy’s blood run cold. There was the sound of shuffling, then, in a clearer but still hushed tone, “You- please, Theseus, help.”

Aether. Their voice startlingly recognisable despite the trembling, coming through his phone. Tommy, who had still been shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, was suddenly wide awake, up on his feet and staring back at Tubbo in shock.

“Aether. Where are you, what’s happened?”

Tommy was already striding across the room, pushing open the bedroom door, and yanking his vigilante mask from where it lay crumpled on the floor. Tubbo was following close behind, clearly unsure of what was going on from the half of the conversation he could hear.

Tommy didn’t even bother getting changed out of his civilian wear, only pulling on his mask and glasses, hesitating just a moment before grabbing his capelet too and pinning the hood in place with one fluid motion. The phone was almost worryingly quiet, breathing barely audible.

He swore under his breath as Aether’s sobbing breaths increased in volume, and locked eyes with Tubbo desperately. Then, a plan popped into his head. A very, very, half-arsed plan.

In any other situation, with any other person, the idea might’ve been stupid. Would’ve been stupid. But Tommy had Tubbo, and if anyone could trace the location of a burner phone in thirty seconds flat, it was him.

“Right. Right, okay, you remember Tubbo?” From where he stood, Tubbo straightened up almost imperceptibly, his eyes widening minutely.

Listening intently, Tommy thought he heard a small hum from Aether, and hoped that it meant he remembered. “...Good. That’s good. I’m going to pass you over to him, okay, and he’s going to stay on call with you while I come get you, yeah?”

The second Tommy heard a small sound of confirmation from Aether, he was passing the phone across. Tubbo fumbled slightly, holding it up to his ear. He muttered quick reassurances into the phone, already making his way towards the computer. He glanced over at Tommy, and a moment later a phone was being thrown towards him. Not the same phone, not Theseus’ phone, but Tommy’s phone. Not long after it reached his hands, Tubbo’s contact began flashing across the screen.

“Okay, I’m gonna trace the call now. To- Theseus, get going and I’ll give you directions as we go. Aether, this shouldn’t take long. Both of you stay on the phone. I can tell you how close you are to each other, but it would take longer to get exact street names… We’ll see. Go, it’ll be okay.”

The last bit was directed at Tommy, his friend's voice coming from two directions. One, tinny and distant through the phone. The other, warm and near as Tubbo stuck his head around the corner, nodding with a steely resolve in his eyes. Tommy smiled at his friend – his brother, which at this point might serve as a better descriptor – from beneath his mask, hoping Tubbo somehow felt his gratitude, and held the phone to his ear.

Then, he promptly let himself fall out the window.

Chapter 23: And Careful Kid, You Are the Lost Not Found

Chapter Text

The cold night air blew loudly against Tommy’s face, almost strong enough to drown out his beating heart or the sound of Tubbo’s voice. Not quite, but almost.

The city was quiet, startlingly so, and Tommy passed barely three people on his way. Tubbo called out instructions to him every few seconds, the rest of the time spent whispering soothing assurances to Aether. The hero still sounded seconds away from a full-blown panic attack, and even with Tommy flying – not literally, not yet at least – through the streets, he wasn’t quick enough. He was never quick enough.

But when Tommy landed in the darkened and rubbish-lined alley, the sight that greeted him felt like both a relief and a punch to the gut. At the end, hunched and cowering, knees brought up to his chest, sat a familiar figure. Almost. It was Aether, that much was certain, but they seemed to be… glitching? No, that didn’t seem to be the right word. Purple and blue particles flew from the hero in a frenzy, making them almost indiscernible within the cloud. And something was… wrong.

Maybe he was right in saying he was glitching. A strange kind of static-like buzzing seemed to fill the air around them, and Aether appeared to be- changing? Flashing, slipping, hair switching from split-dyed to a dirty blonde in the blink of an eye. What little Tommy could see of his eyes flickered between the usual red and green that Tommy was so familiar with, and a grey that Tommy could only assume were those of his civilian identity.

He didn’t even bother to ask, didn’t allow himself to freak out over the fact that Holy sh*t he knew parts of Aether’s civilian identity. Instead, he just moved towards the hero, slowly approaching the whimpering teenager. As he approached, Tommy began to notice more, began to see through the dense layer of particles that had been blocking his view.

A few stubborn tears clung to the hero’s face. They sizzled where they sat, slowly engraving deep burns into their two-toned face. He seemed so fragile like this, hiccupping and mumbling into their arms, that Tommy was afraid to touch them, even just to wipe away the tears slowly marking his cheeks.

Aether opened their mouth, starting to say something – Tommy’s name, perhaps – but only a few choked half-sounds slipped out before he stopped short, pressing a hand to his mouth. The tears burnt their hand, or, well, sometimes. The hand, too, was flickering slightly. Blinking between a freckled, onyx hand, steaming from the saltwater, and a pale, unmarred one. It had black nail polish on, Tommy noted absently. It was also shaking, violently so. The hero’s eyes met his own, and, just for a second, blinding red met icy blue.

Then Aether blinked, squeezed his eyes tight, and Tommy took the risk of moving closer. He lowered himself to the floor beside them, wincing as Aether startled slightly. Gods, he was entirely underprepared for this. No, that was badly phrased. Tommy would fare better trying to beat all the top ten heroes at once than he would trying to comfort someone. But… still, he reached out a hand. Slowly.

The hero flinched sharply away, and Tommy forced his hand to stop in mid air. But Aether didn’t stop him as he gently rested a hand on their shoulder, moving at a snail's pace. Lifting his other hand, sleeve bunched in his fist, Tommy wiped the tears from Aether’s face.

They sniffled; took a deep, shuddering, breath; and sat up a little. “Sh- shoot. I’m, um, I’m sorry Theseus. I don’t- I didn’t- I need help. Please. I don’t have anywhere – anyone – else. Please.” His voice trailed off into a hoarse whisper, and he dropped their head so it rested on their chest. Tommy was more than a little lost. He’d dealt with all sorts of sh*t before. He’d dealt with panic attacks, stab wounds, abusive families, and gods only know what else, but a scared-sh*tless hero cowering in an alleyway? Now that was a new one. And, if he was being entirely honest, not one he particularly wanted to deal with. But what else could he do?

The hero beside him coughed deeply, his entire body flickering between hero and civilian, and Tommy saw, for the first time, their face. Their real face. No two-toned skin, no split-dyed hair, no glowing heterochromatic eyes, no strange freckles. Aether even seemed to shrink, and Tommy realised everything about them was part of his hero outfit. It wasn’t an outfit. They had a completely different body. Some kind of hybrid thing, except… Enderians weren’t supposed to be able to do that. Or, well, they were, but not at will. Not as a casual thing, just as easy access as a change of clothes.

Granted, Tommy wasn’t exactly a master on the topic of Enderians, but he liked to think he knew the basics. Maybe it was the same thing that meant Aether had his dual-toned skin and unnatural eyes. Whatever gene it was, Tommy had to admit, it was a good disguise. One form for their work, and one for any civilian activities they might need.

Smart, but evidently not fool proof. Something had happened, something bad, something that prompted this kind of reaction. What the f*ck could have prompted that kind of reaction?

And then- Oh. Well, that made a lot more sense. The man was almost soundless as he touched down, only the slight rustling of his cloak alerting Tommy to his presence. Well, that and the sudden influx of panicked sound coming from the curled up figure beside him.

“Well, Ranboo, I suppose my suspicion was correct. Fraternising with goddamn vigilantes, now, are we? I thought I taught you better than that.” The masked man spoke, poison dripping from every word. Tommy’s eyes widened at the unfamiliar name, connecting the dots in a matter of seconds. f*ck.

Aether scrambled backwards, right into the furthest wall. He was shaking violently, and Tommy had half a mind to pass him an orb of warm light. But he was pretty sure he didn’t quite have that level of control over the temperature of his powers yet, and this wasn’t quite the best place to test it.

Instead, Tommy sprang to his feet, turning to face the hero silhouetted against the streetlamp light. “f*ck off, Dolos. I promise you, this is not a fight you want t'have.” His voice was deadly, and it surprised him how calm he sounded. Maybe it was the years of trauma, but Tommy was concerningly good at sounding calm.

“Oh but Theseus, I can’t possibly let my special little protégé escape like that. You should know these things by now, I don’t just let people go.” The hero practically purred, three Dolos copies flickering to life beside him.

f*ck. Fighting Dolos under normal circ*mstances was difficult enough, but doing so while defending Ae- his friend? He really did not want to find out how that would go.

In one swift movement, Tommy scooped Aether off the floor, doing his best to support the lanky – and still flickering – boy. He let his wings rip out from his back, ignoring the twinge of pain that came with. He felt his shirt ripping, and frowned slightly. It had been a good f*cking shirt.

Purple particles merged with glowing golden orbs, supporting Aether as Tommy lifted them through the air. Behind him, Dolos called taunts as he raced forwards, jumping up onto cars, windows, roof’s, as he chased Tommy across the skyline. For what had to be the twentieth time in his life, Tommy thanked the gods that Dolos couldn’t fly.

As he flew, dipping and rising unevenly, Tommy did his best to sort everything out. Tubbo was still on the phone, shouting now, frustration building in his voice at his helplessness. “Tub- Tubbo,” Tommy panted, arms burning at the weight of trying to keep Aether in his arms. “Where- where the f*ck are we? How far? Tell me- tell me where t’ go.”

A gigantic fist came down in front of Tommy, tinged green with the familiar tell-tale of Dolos’ illusions, causing him to swerve and swear loudly. The wind was howling, or maybe it was just the voices tearing through his mind. Half of them shouted directions, the other half screeching curses and hurling insults. At Dolos, mostly, although some seemed to be directed at the hero corp in general, and some even at each other. Tommy didn’t pay attention, instead focusing on avoiding anything that appeared in front of him.

Tubbo’s voice increased in volume, until he was practically bellowing through the phone. Tommy was close, he could tell, he recognised the streets, but how could he go back with Dolos still hot on his tail? He could never, would never, put Tubbo in danger like that. He couldn’t let that bastard follow him home.

“Aether?” Tommy whisper-shouted, locking eyes with Aethers own terrified grey - green and red - grey ones. The not-hero nodded minutely, twisting a hand into Tommy’s bloody shirt. “Can you, f*ck, can you teleport? Do you remember the apartment, Saturday, can you teleport us there? Please?” Tommy dove to the left, narrowly avoiding Dolos – or at least, a copy of Dolos – throwing himself off a roof and towards the pair. Aether squeezed his eyes tight, grabbing Tommy’s arm with what he guessed was a similar strength, and breathed in deeply.

“Yeah- Yeah I, um, I can try.” They mumbled, turning so their face was buried in Tommy’s shoulder. Shuddering, Aether seemed to give off a strange purple aura. The particles that had been hovering beneath the pair, helping to hold the not-hero up, moved, instead clouding around the pair from all sides and leaving Tommy to make up for the lost support. He shifted to keep hold, entirely thrown off by the unexpected change, and just as he thought they’d both go tumbling downwards, three things happened at once.

The particles that had been moving around converged on them, completely blocking off any outside light.

Dolos screamed, swearing and howling like a toddler having a tantrum, and, by the sound of it, throwing chunks of metal – cars, maybe – around.

A popping sound, which, much to Tommy’s relief, he’d come to associate with his friend’s teleportation, rang in his ears.

The cold wind around them stopped blowing. His feet hit the ground, not concrete like might be expected, but wood. Noise accosted him, a bundle of warmth throwing itself towards the tangle of limbs that was him and Aether.

Tubbo. Holy sh*t, they’d done it. Tubbo was here, which meant that ‘here’ was their apartment. Holy sh*t. Tommy was about eighty percent sure he’d just kidnapped a hero. Holy sh*t.

Said hero was now scrambling away from him, curling into the wall and watching warily as Tubbo fretted over Tommy. He brought his knees back up to their chest, sniffling a little. Still glitching, changing between Aether and… Ranboo? Was that what Dolos had said? It… well, it certainly wouldn’t be the weirdest name he’d heard, but gods. Did- Did he really know Aether’s name? Dolos had addressed him with it, and Aether - Ranboo - had reacted to it, so it wouldn’t be massively far-fetched.

Tommy let out a weary, bone-deep sigh. Tubbo stood, hand lingering on Tommy’s shoulder as he moved towards the not-hero. Crouching down, he tilted his head to the side. “Aether? Do you mind explaining what just happened?” He asked softly, as if afraid that even the smallest hint of anger could send Aether running. Which, granted, it probably could.

Sliding closer, Tommy leant against the bookshelf. He took a deep breath, opening his eyes to look at the two other teenagers. Tubbo had sat himself just in front of Aether, hands lingering in the air as if itching to do something to help but not quite sure what.

“Ranboo.” Tommy tested out the new name, eyes never leaving the Enderian. Aether’s head snapped up, and they locked eyes with Tommy for a split second before looking away.

Tubbo didn’t interrupt, but the glint of understanding in his eyes let Tommy know that he’d heard the entire encounter. Heard Dolos’ words.

“That’s your name, isn’t it? We don’t have to use it, if you don’t want. We can keep callin’ you Aether, if you’d prefer. Or you can tell us a completely different name, and we’ll use that instead. Whichever makes you most comfortable.” Tommy held out his hands placatingly, speaking slowly and trying to make it sound calm. He was probably doing okay. Probably.

“Uh. No. Ranboo- Ranboo is fine. Thanks.” Ae- Ranboo mumbled into their sleeve, refusing to meet Tommy’s eye.

“Okay. Okay, that’s really good, thank you Ranboo.” Tubbo took over with ease, clearly sensing that Tommy was done with his emotional cap for the day. “Can you explain what’s going on with… all this?” The shorter boy asked, gesturing in Aether’s- no, in Ranboo’s general area. The hero – or, Tommy supposed, ex-hero – winced, drawing in a shaky breath.

“I don’t- um, I don’t remember. I just. I got home on-” He paused, scrunching up their face and wiping at their eyes. “On Saturday. And Dolos, um, he, he knew. About me talking. To you.” He glanced at Tommy, looking away just as quickly. “I don’t… I don’t know how he knew. But he did. And he was angry. So angry. And then- then- then everything hurt and I woke up and I think my powers went a bit, uh, overboard, because then I teleported, and I was there and I don’t know how but- I got the phone. I don’t… I don’t remember grabbing it. But I must’ve. And I called. And- yeah.” They finished lamely, shrugging and looking around the room.

Tubbo hissed through his teeth, leaning back on his heels. The brunette’s eyes met Tommy’s own, and Tommy saw raw determination etched within. Gods only knew what Tubbo was going to do, possibly not even them, but he was going to do something. That much Tommy could say with certainty.

“...Take the mask off, Tommy.”

Well okay, whatever he might’ve been expecting, it certainly wasn’t... That. But, thinking about it, it wasn’t a bad idea. Aet- Ranboo already practically knew his name from the amount of times Tubbo had slipped up in the last few days alone, and it was only fair to be on even ground. Barely a second passed, Tommy hesitating momentarily, before he yanked the red cloth over his face. A startled gasp came from beside him, but Tommy ignored it in favour of bringing a hand up to his face and rubbing his eyes. He wouldn’t change his mask for the world, but gods it felt good to take it off, especially after the dramatic evening he’d had.

At the sound of heavy breathing beside him, Tommy looked to his right. Ranboo was still hunched over, hands covering their eyes in an attempt to avoid catching sight of Tommy. Tubbo was hovering close by, torn between moving towards Ranboo and remaining seated. He seemed, finally, to have run out of words to say. Tommy paused for a moment, hoping, perhaps foolishly, that Tubbo would come up with some other smart and comforting thing to console Ranboo with. But no such luck. After a minute, Tommy took it upon himself to speak.

“Hey.” He started, wincing at the startled gasp that Ranboo gave. “So. You can, like, look at me, y’know? I’m not f*ckin’ Medusa.” Chuckling slightly, Tommy shifted where he sat, sending Tubbo a desperate glance. “Okay. I need to reintroduce myself. Hi. I’m Tommy. I’m also known as Theseus, the vigilante. I work at the Final Control Room Café, in District 9. I think that’s it for me. You know Tubbo. He also works at FCR, he doesn’t have another identity... At least as far as I know.”

Tubbo scoffed, leaning over to shove Tommy gently on the shoulder. Squawking in indignation, Tommy playfully wacked him right back. The light-hearted squabbling continued for about a minute, before a quiet laugh interrupted them. Both friends turned, shocked at the unexpected sound. Ranboo was laughing. Granted, he was also crying, the tears thankfully not burning him while in not-Aether form. But still. He was laughing.

Tommy grinned. That had to be a good sign, surely? Then his eyes narrowed, a sudden thought having occurred to him.

“Wait, how old are you?”

The room lapsed back into silence, Ranboo stifling their laughter with a hand. They hesitated for a long, painful moment, in which Tubbo shot Tommy a glare. Then, Ranboo spoke. Carefully. “I… am a minor, and that is all I am saying.” The ex-hero changed their position on the floor, letting his legs fall into a slightly more relaxed position.

“So- wait, were you born before or after April 9th 20XX?”

Ranboo looked flummoxed, clearly not having expected the question to be quite so specific, but Tommy just stared at him. Tubbo rolled his eyes, leaning backwards, waiting for Ranboo’s response.

“...Before.” Ranboo said with certainty, after a moment of thought.

“So you’re younger than me! HAH I f*ckin’ told you so Tubs-”

“No, Tommy, you f*cking dumbass, that means they’re older than you.” Tubbo rested his head in his hands. The room, once again, fell silent. And then-

“GODS DAMMIT WHY AM I STILL THE YOUNGEST. I KNEW I SHOULD’VE CHOSEN A DIFFERENT BIRTHDAY-”

Chapter 24: To Sit Between Comfort and Chaos

Chapter Text

It was very rare for something to catch Tubbo off-guard. Probably came with the trauma, but he was incredibly observant. This was likely helped by his surplus of cameras, and ability to hack into any CCTV footage in the city.

But that didn’t make the phone call any less of a shock.

Tubbo had seen his best friend in a great many situations. He’d seen Tommy spitting mad, throwing off insults and names and myths like no tomorrow. He’d seen Tommy panicked, hands over his ears, rocking back and forth on the cafe floor. He’d seen Tommy laughing, probably at some comment either he or Eret made, face bright enough to light up the whole room. But seeing Tommy this worried for someone? Never.

Only twice, at least to Tubbo’s – if he said so himself, pretty good – memory, had he ever seen his friend this concerned for someone else's wellbeing. And never, not once, had Tubbo seen him so worried for someone he’d known less than six months.

When the phone started ringing, Tubbo didn’t immediately think it was an emergency. Sure, it was weird . Tommy never got phone calls, and never from that phone. But it was by no means a cause for concern. Only when Tommy sat up ramrod straight, face draining of colour as he picked up the phone, did Tubbo realise this wasn’t normal.

The room was silent for a moment, Tubbo staring wide-eyed as his friend frowned at the phone, not knowing whether to intervene. Then, Tommy spoke.

“Hello? A- Uh, how can I help you?”

Ah. That… was surprisingly unhelpful. It was Aether then, at least Tubbo knew that. But as to why the hero was calling late on a Tuesday evening? He didn’t have a clue. Neither did Tommy, it seemed, who was growing more and more confused by the second.

Tubbo couldn’t hear the hero's words, but judging by the sudden shift in Tommy’s demeanour, how he rose quickly to his feet, an urgent note appearing in his voice, it was bad.

“Aether. Where are you, what’s happened?”

Oh that was really not good. Over the years, Tubbo would like to think he’d gotten pretty good at identifying Tommy’s emotions. This was, undeniably, his oh-sh*t-this-is-serious voice. Not one Tubbo heard often, given the carefree and tactless nature of his friend. But this… This was urgent.

And Tubbo didn’t have time to linger on the thought, as Tommy crossed the room in a few quick paces and threw open the bedroom door. Tubbo leapt to his feet, following quickly, questions heavy on his tongue. Tommy was rummaging around on the floor, and rose a moment later with his mask clutched in his hand. So this was bad. Really, really bad. Bad enough to warrant an impromptu patrol on a random Tuesday evening.

Tommy paused for a moment, clearly thinking, and Tubbo opened his mouth to ask but-

“Right. Right, okay, you remember Tubbo?”

He was talking to Aether, and allowed a momentary pause, presumably for the hero to respond. When he was satisfied, Tommy nodded and continued.

“...Good. That’s good. I’m going to pass you over to him, okay, and he’s going to stay on call with you while I come get you, yeah?”

Tubbo almost objected, frowning in confusion as the phone was thrown his way. But… Right. He held the phone to his ear, Tommy’s plan falling into place in his mind in a split second. He practically sprinted back into the living room, grabbing Tommy’s phone – his actual one, not the burner – from where it had been abandoned on the coffee table. He threw it to his now masked roommate, who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, before turning his attention to the person on the other end of the phone. For a few seconds, he only heard some muffled sniffling. And then-

“H- Hello? Tub, uh, Tubbo? Is-”

The voice tapered off, turning into a kind of half-crying half-choking sound. Still, it was recognisably, undeniably, Aether.
“Yep, I’m here bossman. To- Ah, Theseus, is coming to grab you now. Just hold on, yeah?” Tubbo stared meaningfully at Tommy, grabbing his own phone from his desk and pressing call on his latest – and to be honest, essentially only – contact. Tommy’s phone rang, and he fumbled to pick it up.

“Okay, I’m gonna trace the call now.” Tubbo spoke into the air, eyes laser-focused onto the pc screen in front of him. From the bedroom, he could hear Tommy prying open the window. It was only after a minute of silence and shaky breaths that he remembered he was supposed to be comforting someone. “Okay. It’s okay, Aether, he’ll be with you soon. You’re going to be fine, we’re going to make sure you’re safe,” he muttered into the phone, trying to sound soothing. Christ, Tubbo was wildly underprepared for this. Then, in a normal volume, he continued. “To- f*ck, Theseus, get going and I’ll give you directions as we go. Aether, this shouldn’t take long. Both of you stay on the phone . I can tell you how close you are to each other, but it would take longer to get exact street names… We’ll see.”

He paused for a second, sticking his head around the corner of the doorway, catching sight of his friend, already halfway out the window. Tubbo smiled slightly, nodding.

“Go, it’ll be okay.”

-0-

Whoever said it would be okay was entirely and utterly incorrect. Tubbo was going to f*cking throttle them.

It was almost half an hour later – possibly the most nerve-wracking half hour of Tubbo’s life – that a purple flash broke the air of the apartment, and a loud crash sounded from behind him. Immediately, Tubbo was up on his feet and making his way towards the heap of tangled limbs.

“f*cking, sh*t, T- f*ck, Je te déteste tellement, putain, espèce de connard absolu, you scared me you connard stupide ! Why do you never f*cking reply when I give you f*cking instructions? Not even a ‘yeah, sure thing Tubbo, I’m still alive by the way’? I thought Dolos f*cking hurt you or something! You f*cking idiot I swear to god-”

Tubbo cut himself off with a sigh, rubbing his temple. Tommy was still groaning as he sat up, but Aether was already propelling themself backwards across the floor until their back hit the wall. sh*t, he looked on the verge of another panic attack. But Tubbo allowed himself to put them to the side, just for a second, as he crouched down and pulled Tommy into a hug.

Three seconds was all he gave himself. Just three seconds, to calm his mind that Tommy was safe and okay . Then he stood, letting one hand stay on Tommy’s shoulder. Aether was shaking in the corner. Or- not shaking, that was the wrong word. It was more like… Glitching? Sparking? Tubbo wasn’t quite sure how to describe it. The hero seemed to be… switching? Like every second he changed slightly.

Hair transforming from the usual split-dyed black and white to a longer, curly blondish-brown. Eyes – or what little Tubbo could see of them when they weren’t squeezed shut – flickering between a fluorescent, glowing, heterochromatic, green and red, to a new stormy grey. Small, dragon-like horns protruding from their skull snapping in and out of existence.

The air around him was staticky, and Tubbo almost wanted to cover his ears. Instead, he moved closer, until he was kneeling before them. “Aether? Do you mind explaining what just happened?” He asked softly, afraid that even the smallest hint of anger might – and probably would, given his current state – send Aether running.

From the corner of his eye, Tubbo saw Tommy move closer until he was leaning against the nearby bookshelf, almost beside Aether.

None of them spoke for a second, Tubbo’s hand hovering in the air. He wanted to help, wanted to do something . Instead, it was Tommy who was next to speak.

“Ranboo.”

The word was unfamiliar, and Tubbo looked at his friend with confusion. But he was quick to catch on, the reaction that the word got from Aether alongside his vague recollection of the word being thrown at some point during the confrontation with Dolos both pointing him in the right direction. Oh. So this… This was Aether’s name , then? Huh. That was definitely… unique. Not bad. But definitely unique.

“That’s your name, isn’t it? We don’t have to use it, if you don’t want. We can keep callin’ you Aether, if you’d prefer. Or you can tell us a completely different name, and we’ll use that instead. Whichever makes you most comfortable.” Tubbo didn’t miss the way Tommy held out his hands placatingly, speaking slowly and trying to make it sound comforting. Sure, judging by the way Aether still shivered on the floor, he wasn’t doing a particularly great job. But it’s the thought that counts, right?

“Uh. No. Ranboo- Ranboo is fine. Thanks.” Aether- or rather, he supposed, Ranboo mumbled into their sleeve, refusing to look directly at either of them.

“Okay. Okay, that’s really good, thank you Ranboo.” Tubbo took over swiftly, handling the situation with ease. It was almost painfully clear that Tommy was pretty done with his emotional cap for the day. “Can you explain what’s going on with… all this?” He asked, gesturing in Aether’s… in Ranboo’s general direction. The glitching boy winced, drawing in a shaky breath.

They opened and closed their mouth a few times, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I don’t- um, I don’t remember. I just. I got home on-” He paused, wiping their eyes as he scrunched up their face. “On Saturday. And Dolos, um, he, he knew. About me talking. To you.” Ranboo – the name still felt strange in Tubbo’s mind – glanced towards Tommy, before looking away just as quickly. “I don’t… I don’t know how he knew. But he did. And he was angry. So angry . And then- then- then everything hurt and I woke up and I think my powers went a bit, uh, overboard, because then I teleported, and I was there and I don’t know how but- I got the phone. I don’t… I don’t remember grabbing it. But I must’ve. And I called. And- yeah.” They finished with a shrug, trailing off lamely and looking around the room.

Tubbo hissed through his teeth, leaning back on his heels. Icy blue eyes met his own green ones, and Tubbo did his best to give his friend a determined half-smile. He had an idea. Not a particularly thought-out one, and possibly not a very good one, but an idea nonetheless. An idea that, even just a week ago, he would’ve considered pure and unadulterated idiocy. And in any other situation, it probably would be. Any other time, any other place, any other person. But this wasn’t any other time, any other place, or any other person. And well, how much harm could it do?

“...Take the mask off, Tommy.”

Okay, so, yeah, theoretically, it could do a lot of harm. Aet- Ranb- the guy may well have a camera on him, whether they knew it or not, that was recording everything they did or said. They might be waiting, trying to gather as much information as he could before taking off back to the hero tower. He could do anything, tell anyone, of their names and faces, and Tubbo knew he would be almost powerless to stop him before it was too late. But, inexplicably, Tubbo found himself unable to mistrust Ranboo.

Attesting to the strength of their friendship, Tommy barely hesitated before tearing off the red gaiter mask and revealing his identity to Ranboo. Said hero – ex hero, more likely – gasped, throwing up their hands to cover his eyes. The identity reveal seemed to send him into a state of complete panic, which was the opposite effect that he hoped it would achieve, and Tubbo began to move closer in hopes of calming them.

He didn’t know what to say. This was give or take where his experience for dealing with this sh*t came in, and he threw a glance to Tommy for reassurance.

The blonde seemed to get the idea, sighing before he spoke.

“Hey.” Ranboo gave a startled gasp, and Tubbo had half a mind to step in again. But he trusted that Tommy knew what he was doing. Well, mostly. Well, a bit. Kind of.

“So. You can, like, look at me, y’know? I’m not f*ckin’ Medusa.” Oh, so he was pulling out the mythology references, huh? That could mean any number of things on its own, but coupled with the desperate glance Tommy threw his way, Tubbo could deduce that his friend had about as much knowledge of what to do as he did. A small comfort, he supposed, that they were equally clueless.

“Okay. I need to reintroduce myself. Hi. I’m Tommy. I’m also known as Theseus, the vigilante. I work at the Final Control Room Cafe in District 9, as you know. I think that’s it for me. You’ve met Tubbo. He also works at FCR, he doesn’t have another identity. As far as I know.”

Tubbo scoffed quietly and leant over to shove Tommy lightly. Squawking in indignation, Tommy playfully wacked him right back. The light-hearted squabbling continued for about a minute, before a hiccupy laugh interrupted them. Both friends turned, play-fighting forgotten, shocked at the unexpected sound. Ranboo was laughing . Well, he was also crying, but still. And, Tubbo noted with relief, the tears thankfully didn’t seem to be burning him while in not-Aether form.

He smiled, locking eyes with Tommy, who grinned right back. That had to be a good sign, surely? Tommy seemed to think so, which probably wasn’t the best way to grade a plan's success, but it had to count for something. Only a minute later, however, Tommy’s eyes narrowed as if he’d had a sudden thought.

“Wait, how old are you?”

The room lapsed back into silence, Ranboo stifling their laughter with a hand. They hesitated for a long, painful moment, in which Tubbo shot Tommy a harsh glare. Then, Ranboo opened his mouth. Thankfully, he didn’t seem too overly upset about the question, but still they spoke carefully. “I… am a minor, and that is all I am saying.” The ex-hero changed their position on the floor, letting his legs fall into a slightly more relaxed position.

Tubbo could practically hear his best friend's thought process, and was moments away from groaning into his arms when Tommy next spoke.

“So- wait, were you born before or after April 9th 20XX?”

Ranboo looked flummoxed, clearly not having expected the question to be quite so specific, but Tommy didn’t relent. Not even Tubbo’s huff of annoyance got him to stop, the unmasked vigilante just choosing to stare at them. Tubbo rolled his eyes, leaning backwards, waiting for Ranboo’s response.

“...Before.” Ranboo said with certainty, after a moment of thought.

“So you’re younger than me! HAH I f*ckin’ told you so Tubs-”

“No, Tommy, you f*cking dumbass, that means they’re older than you.” Tubbo gave in, groaning loudly and resting his head in his hands. The room, once again, fell silent. And then-

“GODS DAMMIT WHY AM I STILL THE YOUNGEST. I KNEW I SHOULD’VE CHOSEN A DIFFERENT BIRTHDAY-”

Chapter 25: The Wasted Years (The Wasted Youth)

Chapter Text

Tommy really should’ve chosen a different birthday. Sure, sentimentality and all that, but gods was it annoying. Tubbo was older than him by just a few months, Aeth- no, Ranboo, was apparently older than him too, although they’d declined to share their exact age. Even Purpled was older, by almost an entire year, as he’d told Tommy the previous week at work with a befuddled stare when Tommy had asked insistently.

Which… That was another train of thought worth addressing. Work. What the f*ck was he supposed to tell Eret? ‘Oh yeah, hi, sorry, won’t be in for work tomorrow because we have to babysit an escaped hero and make sure they don’t have a panic attack and/or betray us. Hope that’s not too much of a hassle!’

No, Tommy might not necessarily have the best track record when it comes to dealing with high-stress situations, but even he knew that was a bad idea. And Tubbo was insistent that they couldn’t leave Ranboo in the apartment alone, for the fear that he’d either wreck the place, have a breakdown, or go back to Dolos. Or all three, not necessarily in that order.

The ceiling didn’t change as Tommy blinked. He wasn’t expecting it to, but with the amount of time he’d spent staring at it, he knew he'd notice if it did. Wouldn't be surprised either, that seemed to be about within his realm of luck. His alarm would go off in four hours. A little less, actually. Tommy was fairly certain he hadn’t slept, and, if the restless shuffling he could hear was any pointer, neither had Tubbo. Or Ranboo, for that matter.

Sleeping arrangements had been… a challenge, to say the least. When Tubbo first moved in, there was just about enough space. A single bed and a sofa. Perfect. But three people? Now that was significantly harder to configure. Granted, most of the time Tubbo didn’t end up using the bed anyway, instead falling asleep at his desk on a regular basis, but that was a habit he was trying to squash, because it wasn’t exactly doing wonders for his back. And they really didn’t have the money (nor the space) to get another bed.

In the end, they’d dragged all of the blankets they could find into one big pile in the living room and made do.

That made it sound like some sort of nest, it wasn’t, and no a small part of Tommy’s brain did not chirp happily at being able to share a nest with his fa- friends. With his friends.

Rather, the three of them had divided out the blankets and pillows and chosen their spots. Tubbo got the sofa, given he was the only one who could properly lie down on it without either his head or his feet hanging off the ends. Or both, in Ranboo’s case. Like some sort of Goldilocks combined with Procrustes situation.

Ranboo and Tommy both took spots on the floor beside the brunette, each practically cocooned in blankets. The heating clearly hadn’t been turned on, and the wood floors weren’t great for staying warm.

But that wasn’t the reason he couldn’t sleep. No, that came from his still-reeling mind attempting to process what exactly had been going on for the last few hours. Which was, in Tommy’s opinion, entirely fair. He should really message Eret, so she wasn’t caught off-guard later when neither of them showed up for work. Still the question arose, how the f*ck did he explain the situation? Even he wasn’t quite sure what had happened, and he’d been there for the damn thing.

Lmao have fun figuring that out

LLLLL

eepy Tommy

3/3 BENCH BOYS HAVE BEEN AQUIRED

yesssss

tmmyTBH

Hummna hummna hummna hummna

ssshuddup

Tommy’s mind was full. The voices were banging on about gods only know what, and he couldn’t concentrate. Trying to piece together what happened earlier wasn’t exactly helping, as it was all so confusing.

Aether – Ranboo, as Tommy had come to learn – had evidently… what, escaped? Left? Run away from? The heroes tower, prompting Dolos to go on a rage-fuelled manhunt, chasing the poor kid across f*ck only knows how many districts. And, for some reason, Ranboo had chosen Tommy to call? Did he not have anyone else? No friends, family, loved ones, no one that wasn’t a f*cking vigilante? Don’t get it wrong, Tommy was beyond glad they called. He didn’t even want to think about what might’ve happened otherwise. But still, did the hero not have anyone other than a vigilante to phone when they were in need? Was that really how badly the system had failed them?

And that was another issue in itself, what had the heroes done to him? Clearly, something wasn’t right. Even ignoring the whole ‘being a minor and working as a hero full-time’ sh*t, it was evident that something had happened. Tommy didn’t know much about Enderians. He liked to think he had some basic knowledge, but it wasn’t like he kept particularly up to date, what with the only one he’d ever known being long dead.

Still, he knew they didn’t just glitch like that. Not even when Tommy had scared- had scared them into shifting as a joke, never had her reaction been to start glitching like that. Granted, the one he’d known hadn’t had whatever skin thing it was that made Ranboo look like someone dunked the right half of him in bleach, but hey. What did Tommy know? (Enough to know that that wasn’t normal, wasn’t natural.)

Tommy rolled onto his side with a sigh, hearing the previously steady breathing from beside him stutter at the movement. Yeah, clearly he’d been right in the assumption that neither of the others were sleeping. They were probably awake for the same reason as him, pondering the same impossible question:

What the f*ck were they supposed to do now?

Even as Tommy, unbeknownst to himself, slowly drifted off to sleep, the problem still played in his mind. But, much to what would later be his dismay, even the urgency of finding an answer didn’t prevent the memories from creeping in.

-0-

Loud. Loud LOUD LOUD. Tommy stood, fists clenched, as sound coursed through his ears. Blood, voices, or screaming spectators, he wasn’t quite sure. The sandy ground beneath his feet shifted as he did, and Tommy stared brokenly across at the other person in the arena. Another child, not even a year older than himself, with hair half black and half red, not quite the right shade to hide the blood matted within.

It shifted uneasily, sharp fangs poking out from its lips and what little of its brow Tommy could see furrowed in annoyance, glaring not at him, but rather up to the stands, right at The Man. It was brave, very brave, to do that. Anyone who was glaring at The Man had to have some kind of death wish. Which, well, Tommy guessed in this case wouldn’t really matter. It was a bit too late for Him to do anything.

The fight was long but almost bloodless, neither child really wanting to harm the other. That, Tommy supposed, was the price He would pay for throwing the two competitors in the same cage, even if just for one night. Tommy hoped it would cost Him some bets, at least.

The crowd got restless, and more than once Tommy caught The Man’s eye. Steely, displeased, slightly tipsy. No different from normal.

Tommy won in the end.

The other child could’ve fought more, would’ve won easily if it actually tried, but… it didn’t. Maybe it was something .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ had told it, in their brief hours of sharing a cell. Or maybe it was just tired.

Either way, the result was the same. Tommy was left standing over the limp and broken figure, its limbs twisted unnaturally. It’d had friends, just like him, it had told him so. Two, apparently, that it shared a cage with back at wherever it came from. Just like him and .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑.

Tommy had never asked their names. Or its name, for that matter. It had told him that it hoped it would hurt less, to kill or be killed by someone you didn’t know the name of. Tommy decided that it was very wrong in that assumption.

Its favourite colour had been red, he knew that. Fitting, perhaps, he thought blearily, watching blood pool around the child like a gruesome halo.

He’d been so excited to find someone else who’s favourite colour was red. He’d said that it could join the club, just him and .̸̱̅́̈́͗.̵̯͉̫̘̂.̵̬͋͂.̵̡̯̱̼̈́̒.̵̛̖̜̪.̶̞̟̞͔͙̅͊̕.̷̬͒͆͋͘̕.̴͖̘̤͇̃.̵̛̛̙̓̀̿̉.̴͈̺̞͗̄̒̆̈́̕.̷̙̮͚̼͚̓̉̑ up to that point, of people whose favourite colour was red. It had agreed.

Tommy had spoken for almost ten minutes about how red was the bestest colour in the whole world. Now, as the colour stained his fingers, his hair, his very soul, he wasn’t so sure that was even true.

-0-

Alarm clocks were the bane of Tommy’s existence. And he did not say that lightly.

The incessant ringing that woke him up was loud, and had he been in any worse a state me might’ve seriously considered smashing his phone right there and then. Who decided it was a good idea to be woken up by a long, monotonous, beeping sound? He’d quite like to punt them across a room.

Near him, Aether- no, Ranboo was already sat up, drumming his hands on their lap. They were wearing a mask, two-toned just like his hero-

“Oh my gods, are you seriously wearing your own f*cking merch right now?” Tommy laughed, putting the phone on silent and grinning at Ranboo. The taller boy jumped, gasping quietly. They turned, facing him properly, and…

Yeah. Yeah, that was definitely Aether merch. The sidekick hero didn’t have much in terms of merch, there was really only the mask. It had come out in two different patterns about halfway through last year as encouragement for people to wear masks due to the sudden uptake in serious flu cases that almost sent the SMP into a full-blown lockdown. Fun times.

“You are! You actually are. Holy sh*t, and here I thought Dolos was the self-centred one!” He joked, shaking his head as Ranboo shifted minutely. They nodded, eyes crinkling with an almost unnoticeable smile.

“Well, y’know,” the teen shrugged, tilting their head to the side. “Who’s gonna think I’m Aether now? Like you said, barely anyone would wear their own merchandise. And hey, it’s kinda funny if you think about it.”

Tommy just stared at him, silently shaking with laughter. “Dude, you know the whole point of wearing a costume – or in your case, I guess, a completely different form – to do the whole ‘hero’ schtick is that you don’t have to hide your regular identity, right?”

Ranboo nodded sheepishly, hunching his shoulders. “Yeah, well, I prefer having my face covered anyway.”

Well, Tommy couldn’t exactly argue with that. So instead he just rolled his eyes, craning his neck to look behind the sofa. “Oi! Tubs!” He called, gesturing for his friend to come over. “C’mere, we need to figure out what to do today so I can message Eret.”

With a crash and a string of curses, Tubbo rounded the corner. He let himself fall onto the sofa, almost kicking Tommy square in the face as he did. This action prompted an offended shove from Tommy, but before the pair could cause any further chaos, Ranboo coughed lightly.

“Oh! Right. Yeah.” Tubbo practically bounced upwards, clapping his hands together as he sat up properly. He pointed at Ranboo before continuing. “You. What’s the plan? Do you have somewhere to go? Someone to call? You’re not going back to Dolos, I’m guessing.”

Ranboo visibly shuddered at the mention of the hero, and Tommy took that to be a solid ‘no’ in regards to that last point. They rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, wilting in on themself.

“Uh. I don’t know, no, no, and absolutely not. I didn’t- don’t really have a plan, it was all a bit, ah, chaotic. Somewhere to go? Other than back to The Tower, no. I’ve been there as long as- well, as long as I can remember, I don’t know anything else. I don’t have anything else. This is it.” He finished with a deep sigh, seeming suddenly small, smaller even than Tubbo.

The two other boys just stared for a moment. Tommy… Tommy understood. Leaving somewhere, walking out into the big wide world, with no one to help you and nowhere to go. But he’d found Eret. He’d found Eret, and had subsequently found Tubbo, and along with that, found something vaguely resembling happiness. So if Ranboo needed their own version of Eret? Well, Tommy would be more than happy to provide.

It seemed that Tubbo had been following a similar train of thought, as he straightened up impossibly more, fresh resolve in his eyes. He hadn’t had the opportunity to be there for Tommy when he escaped, too wrapped up in his own life and his own problems to even know about him, but he could be there for Ranboo.

“Okay. Sure, we can work with that. Tommy, feel free to correct me here, it is your apartment after all, but I’m sure neither of us mind you staying with us until further notice. Obviously, we’ll need to sort something out about work, since we both have jobs, and I’m not sure what you want to do about that sort of thing. You can stay as long as you need, got it?”

Tubbo sent Tommy a look, to which Tommy nodded in return. That settled it, then. Neither of them minded about the addition to the apartment, so really it was all down to Ranboo. Honestly, Tommy was slightly surprised at the lack of hesitation Tubbo showed at allowing this borderline stranger into their home.

At the same time, it made sense. Tubbo had been threatening to kill Tommy’s ex-captor ever since he’d found out about his friend's past, and finding out that said captor was his own father had sent him spiralling. Luckily, Tommy had managed to pull him out of it quickly, but the impact stayed.

Ranboo still seemed hesitant, shaking their head slightly. “No! No, skies, I couldn’t just barge in like that! No offence, but your apartment is cramped enough without me taking up space. I can’t just- No way- It’s not fair-” He trailed off, seemingly having reached the same conclusion as the other two boys.

If they didn’t stay here, then where?

Ranboo voiced what everyone had been thinking, and for a change it was Tommy who responded first.

“Well, we can always talk to Eret about finding you somewhere. We don’t exactly have the money to rent out another flat, but she has a sh*t-ton of vaguely questionable connections and could probably find you somewhere. That would mean we’d have to explain who the f*ck you are, as well as why the f*ck you came to us of all people.” Already brainstorming cover-up stories and ways to avoid Eret finding out he was Theseus, – because Eret would not be best pleased at finding out that Tommy spent his evenings running around in a cape and mask, and gods help anyone that incurred the wrath of Eret – Tommy almost missed the fear that flashed across Ranboo’s face.

“No! No, you can’t tell anyone!” They practically shrieked, reaching across as if to grab Tommy but thinking better of it at the last moment. “No, really, I’ll just- I’d rather just stay. Here. I’ll keep out of the way, I swear, and it’ll just be until I can find-”

“No, no no no.” Tubbo broke in, hands raised placatingly in an attempt to calm the fretful teen. “Seriously, don’t worry. I mean, you’ve seen the state of the apartment, you could set off a bomb in here and we wouldn’t notice. Tried and tested, might I add. But yeah, really, don’t worry. You can stay here as long as you like. The only thing is…” Hesitating, Tubbo looked to his friend for reassurance. Tommy shrugged, but Ranboo at least seemed to be vaguely calmer. Or at least, significantly less likely to have a panic attack.

Tubbo opened and closed his mouth a few times, sucking in a deep breath before he continued. “Okay, now, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t exactly think- Well, I’m not entirely chill with leaving you alone in the apartment.” Tubbo hunched his shoulders before continuing quickly. “Not to say I don’t trust you! Well, at least, I don’t think you’d betray us or anything. But it’s just… Well, anything could happen. We have no clue if Dolos could just burst in here and burn the whole thing to the ground, and, quite frankly, I’d rather at least one of us was here with you if that happened. Sorry, but you can see my point, right?”

Tubbo finished desperately, seeming to be half prepared for Ranboo to start yelling at him. That didn’t happen, and instead, the ex-hero nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Thank you, thank you both so much for letting me stick about. Really, I won’t be any trouble, I promise.” Ranboo rambled on, thanking them profusely as they nodded.

Chapter 26: Name One Hero Who Was Happy

Chapter Text

By the time that had all been arranged, they only had about fifteen minutes to catch the train if they wanted to get to work on time. After a quick coin-flip, it was decided that Tubbo would be the one going into work that day. He rushed out the door almost immediately, yawning as he went, and Tommy shook his head behind him.

He had no doubt in his mind that his friend would be asleep by the time that lunch break rolled around, and that Eret, like the complete softie he was, would absolutely let him nap through the rest of the day.

And that left Tommy to deal with Ranboo. Well, ‘deal with’ might be a bit harsh. It wouldn’t be that bad. Babysit? No, that felt weird too. Hang out with? Spend time with? That might be better, it would probably be fun.

Whatever you wanted to call it, Tommy was the one to shut the door behind his friend, waving to Tubbo as he walked away down the stairs, before turning back to the other person in the apartment. Well, this was certainly going to be… interesting.

sh*t. Tommy scrambled for his phone, pulling up his messages. After all that planning and discussion, he’d completely forgotten to message Eret.

-0-

Okay, Tommy retracted his earlier statement. It had only been half an hour or thereabout, but hanging out with Ranboo was so, so much harder than he ever imagined. It was worse than babysitting – not that Tommy would know, but he could guess –, at least small children wouldn’t be scared to f*cking talk.

They were both sitting on the sofa, Ranboo curled awkwardly into one corner and Tommy sat, wings splayed behind him, in the other. Every few minutes, Ranboo glanced over, averting his eyes as soon as Tommy took notice. The blonde tried not act too strangely, although he had to admit that it was strange as f*ck to be in the apartment with someone – someone who wasn’t Tubbo – and for it still to be quiet.

He busied himself with his wings, plucking a few gold-dappled feathers between his fingers and yanking them out with a wince. They were dead, should’ve been removed long ago, and definitely should not have hurt as much as they did. But Tommy did his best to shove that slightly disturbing thought from his mind, brushing the layers of dirt away from the feathers he’d plucked and staring at them with a strange expression. Ranboo shuffled slightly, curling closer into their corner and coughing quietly. Tommy glanced over, meeting the enderians eyes for a split second before they looked away, hunching their shoulders as if expecting Tommy to start yelling at him.

So, he concluded, spending the day alone with Ranboo was agonisingly awkward. Sure, Tommy had spent time with the guy before. Hell, he’d spent hours upon hours laughing on a roof with them. But that was as Theseus and Aether, as a vigilante and a hero, never as Tommy and Ranboo. Never as just two teenagers.

A while passed, and the pair remained seated in awkward silence. At one point, Tommy got up and grabbed two pears from the sad-looking fruit bowl, throwing one to Ranboo and tucking into the other with fever. The hero had been right, that evening that now felt so long ago, pears were good.

Lmao Tommy got a pair of pears

Allium duo are just- 😭

yesyes

Bonding time PogU

EEE I love them s m

Mmmm th bois need to talk more

Pears/pos

Never eat pears >:C /ref

good friendship food fr

ALLIUM DUOOOO

i want more bench trio they’re amazinf

I think this is a good a time as any to state that IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO THEM-

Uh ohhh

o7

tmmy7

o7

Gods, now that he had an opportunity to think about it, Tommy was hungry. Really hungry He hadn’t eaten in what, twelve hours? Definitely not since the previous evening, long before he’d had to go rescue Aet- Ranboo. Damn, and to think that just a couple months back he had his morning routine perfected. Though, he supposed, that’s what he gets for bringing in two new people to the apartment on such short notice.

After almost forty long minutes of uncomfortable silence and tentative small-talk, Tommy finally cracked. He’d never been great with silence, and he was in serious need of some sound.

Standing up with a huff and theatrical wave of his arms that would’ve made Wilbur proud, he grabbed Ranboo by the elbow and yanked them off the floor, earning a yelp as their feet almost flew out from under him. Even hunched as he was, standing with his arms pressed into their pockets and head bent, the boy practically towered over Tommy.

That was another thing on his mind, how the f*ck was the bastard still so tall? Even in ‘human form’ as Ranbooo had tentatively called it, they still came to a whopping six foot six at least. It was, quite frankly, entirely unfair in his opinion. They could’ve donated that height to someone in need, like Tubbo, for example. Would’ve been much more appreciated.

But that didn’t matter as Tommy led Ranboo over to the sofa, forcing them to sit down and fiddling with the remote control.

f*ck, he needed Tubbo for this kind of thing. He was the tech whizz, not Tommy. And yeah, sure, theoretically it doesn’t take a genius to know how to work a blasted TV remote. But it was hard! And Tubbo had a bunch of tricks to find the good films that Tommy hadn’t worked out yet. Making a mental note to ask the brunette about it when he got home later, Tommy eventually settled on a random channel.

It was a good choice, he found, as when he turned it on, the channel was already about a fifth of the way through some animated film. They were missing some of the plot as they missed the start of the movie, but from what Tommy could gather it was something about Vikings. And… dragons? Whatever it was, Tommy found it to be a pretty good watch, if a little strange.

Ranboo seemed to like it too, immediately perking up with apparent recognition. “Oh! I’ve seen this! Well, part of it, Dolos let me use the TV a couple times and this was on once.” He clapped their hands, the corners of their eyes lifting into a warm smile. Or, well, Tommy assumed it would be warm.

Ranboo seemed like the kind of guy to have a warm smile. He’d already taken note of just how expressive they were, even with the mask. His eyes seemed to smile whenever they did, and Tommy found himself surprised to see smile-lines at their corners.

The film finished about an hour later, and Tommy flicked the TV off with a sigh. He stretched, hearing his joints pop, and looked over at Ranboo. The guy was curled into the corner of the sofa, staring at the wall.

“Spot anything interesting?” Tommy joked, frowning as Ranboo startled. “Wha- uh, no. Sorry.” The taller boy mumbled, hunching their shoulders. Sighing, Tommy stood up. “Okay, you have nothing to apologise for. What d’you want t’ do now?” He stretched, hearing his arms pop with a grimace. Ranboo remained sat down, fidgeting with his hands. “I, uh, I don’t know. What do you…” They trailed off, looking at Tommy hopefully.

“I’m going to be honest, we really don’t have that much to do here. We have books. More TV. Cooking, I guess. We have some art sh*t if you want, but I never managed to get the hang of it.” Tommy shrugged, nodding over to a cardboard box in the corner of the room. Ranboo looked at him curiously, seemingly thinking. “What, um, art stuff have you got?” They stood up, eyes flickering between Tommy and the cardboard box.

“Oh, quite a bit. We’ve got… I think we have some pens ‘n pencils, they’re probably not great quality but still. We also have some stringy sh*t. Yarn or wool or whatever the f*ck. And some needles. I meant to learn how to sew, but I never got around to it.”

Ranboo remained silent for a moment, considering something. “Do you have any knitting needles?” They asked, and Tommy furrowed his brows at the unexpected question. “We might, yeah. You know how to knit then?”

“Mhm.” Ranboo nodded, peering into the box that Tommy bought over and smiling as they pulled out a bundle of grey yarn and some knitting needles. “I don’t know if these are the right size for the yarn, but they’ll work. Thanks, Tommy. Do you want me to show you how to do it?”

Tommy paused for a moment. He was one hundred and ten percent certain that that was the longest he’d ever heard Ranboo speak without stuttering. He brushed the feeling away and shrugged. “Sure. I still want to know how you learnt, though. I’m guessing Dolos didn’t teach you.”

That got a laugh out of Ranboo, and Tommy felt a flicker of pride in his chest. “No, he didn’t teach me. I’ve mentioned Deimos to you before, right?” The enderian asked, settling himself on the floor and fiddling with the yarn. Tommy thought for a second before humming in confirmation. “Yep, I think so. Why?”

“He’s the one that, uh, taught me how to knit. And how to braid hair, but yeah.”

Tommy snorted loudly as he pictured the hero – Tommy’s height, muscly beyond human capability, with a boar-skull mask and an axe almost as tall as him – sitting down and knitting. It was a hilarious idea, and Tommy looked at Ranboo to make sure they weren’t joking. “You’re kidding. Deimos? Knitting? Seriously?” He spoke through laughter, and Ranboo nodded sincerely, a smile in their eyes. “Yeah. He’s pretty good at it too.”

“Well damn, I never would’ve guessed.” Tommy mused, still grinning at that mental image. Shaking it away, he sat beside Ranboo. “Anyway, show me how to knit, big man!”

-0-

An hour or so passed, in which Ranboo attempted patiently to teach Tommy how to knit. ‘Attempted’ being the key word in that sentence, as they ended up surrounded by lopsided and half finished squares of grey yarn. Still, it was fun.

Tommy was sitting on the floor, a book on his lap, half watching Ranboo knit a much neater – and multicoloured, he’d managed to find some cyan yarn buried deep in the box – square when he heard the teens' stomach rumble. He glanced at his phone, noting with a frown that it was just past noon. He considered his options. He wouldn’t usually eat this early, but at the sound of Ranboo’s obvious hunger, he caved.

Hopping off the sofa, Tommy moved to stand by the fridge and began listing off the contents. It was an upsettingly short list, and he winced at the long-passed expiration dates on some of the items. They really needed to restock soon, maybe he could message Tubbo to pick some bits up on his way home. Yeah, that was probably a good idea.

“So, whaddya want?” He called over his shoulder, still rifling through the fridge. Ranboo stayed silent, to the point that Tommy looked over to check the boy was still awake. Upon catching sight of the boy, Tommy almost laughed at the familiar expression on their face. He almost cried, too. He remembered wearing that exact same expression, wonder and confusion mixed together, overwhelmed by options. In that strange, fleeting moment, Tommy really wanted to give Ranboo a hug.

He didn’t, and instead started pulling things out of the fridge with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you, um, can I just have some scrambled egg?” They said weakly, and Tommy was once again hit with an overpowering wave of realisation of how incredibly restricted Ranboo had been when he was at The Tower. To think that, at least to them, there was too much choice even with what meagre food Tommy had really put into perspective how little choice they’d had with Dolos.

Gods, Tommy remembered what it was like. To emerge from somewhere with almost no knowledge of the world, and to be thrust unceremoniously right into the middle. Right into the chaos.

He remembered seeing a car for the first time. Well, almost being hit by a car might be a better descriptor. Luckily, Ranboo was nowhere near as f*cked up as he had been, at least in that department. At least Ranboo had been outside before. At least he knew what the sky looked like. But that didn’t change the f*cked-up-ness of the ex-hero’s experience.

Tommy knew he didn’t yet have the full story, that he might never have the full story. That he only had whatever snippets Ranboo was willing to share. That even they might not know the full extent of their trauma. But whatever Ranboo wanted to say, whenever they wanted to say it, Tommy would be there to listen.

Tommy would be there to help.

Chapter 27: A Minute from Home (but I Feel so Far from It)

Chapter Text

In the six days he’d been living with Theseus – Tommy, as he’d gotten used to calling him – and Tubbo, Ranboo had learnt a lot of things.

For one, neither boy seemed to… push, for lack of a better term. Ranboo had told the pair all he remembered of the night he escaped, as well as the days leading up to it, but despite the dissatisfactory answer, neither pushed him too much on the topic. Obviously, they were curious. Ranboo was too, in all honesty. It wasn’t a nice thing, not to remember your own experiences.

But, much as he’d told Tubbo and Tommy, all they remembered was getting home that Saturday, Dolos confronting him, shouting, and… Well, they were pretty sure that Hybris had shown up at one point, but by then it was all so blurry by that point he could hardly tell. And then nothing, nothing until he was teleporting and the particles were howling, screeching, yelling at them to get out, and he had a phone and was calling and then- the apartment.

So that left him with what, two or three days of nothing? Just blank spaces where memories should’ve sat, blank spaces where anything could’ve happened. Blank spaces that Ranboo might never have answers to. That terrified them a bit. A lot.

Another thing he’d learned in the last week: His new roommates – roommates. It still felt so strange to say – were loud. Really, really loud. And messy. Insanely messy. Sure, they’d kind of guessed that Thes- that Tommy was a bit… chaotic, to put it one way. That wasn’t a hard conclusion to come to, after all Ranboo had taken the boy as a bit out there from the start. But with the addition of Tubbo? Ranboo had never heard so much noise in his life. Granted, that wasn’t saying much, given most of his time was spent locked in his room back with Dolos, but still.

And the mess, skies, back at The Tower Dolos would’ve killed them if they put so much as a shoe in the wrong place. Something about ‘good impressions for guests’.

They never had any guests, so Ranboo wasn’t sure what he meant, but either way the place stayed almost spotless. Here, though? It was practically an obstacle course just to get across the living room.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but with all of Tubbo’s techy bits and bobs everywhere mixed with the blankets, clothes, books, and trinkets littered across the room it really wasn’t that far off.

Speaking of books, Ranboo really wanted to get his hands on some of them. There was a surprising amount, considering the apartment housed two impoverished teenage boys, and Ranboo had already spotted at least four on Greek mythology, one in significantly worse condition than the others, as well as a couple about the history of the SMP.

They were pretty sure he’d even spotted a ratty copy of The Art of War, which made his eyes light up and also begin watering as he realised that huh, they’d probably never be able to tell Deimos about his new friends and their shared interest. He’d probably never be able to tell Deimos anything ever again.

He wondered, vaguely, who the books belonged to. They’d already heard Tommy make a few mythology references, so maybe those ones were his? Ranboo hadn’t really taken him as a bookish sort of guy, but hey, who knew. The Art of War also seemed to be Tommy, if the way he cradled the book when it was knocked off the shelf on day three of Ranboo’s arrival held any significance. As for the history books, they had no clue. From what he could tell, Tubbo seemed much more science-focused than history-focused, but people could be interested in loads of things, so it was anyone's guess. Maybe the dystopias – a pristine copy of The Hunger Games, a slightly more worn copy of Fahrenheit 451, and a rather well-loved copy of Nineteen Eighty-Four - were more his thing. Or maybe not, how was Ranboo to know?

All in all, everything was strangely… Normal. Well, no, nothing was ‘normal’, not even close to normal, skies, this was nothing like Ranboo’s normal, but… It certainly wasn’t as bad as he expected. There had been no word from The Tower about his whereabouts, no notice about him going missing or any wanted posters plastered around from what Tommy and Tubbo saw, and Ranboo didn’t know whether to be happy about that or not. On one hand, they didn’t have their mentor breathing down their neck, but on the other… Was this really how little they had cared for him? Was he really this disposable?

Yes a small voice in his head whispered to him. Yes, you knew how little Dolos cared the first time he hit you. Mentors don’t hit their students.And Ranboo knew that. Somewhere, deep down, he knew that they could just find a replacement. Make a replacement. There had been nothing except complete radio silence for an entire week, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d already started the process.

He didn’t know what to do with themself.

Really, there was only so long they could spend cooped up in an apartment without going a bit mad. Even with either Tommy or Tubbo home at all times, there was only so much to do.

On that same topic, the pair still hadn’t let him alone in the apartment. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust them, no, that had blown over after day two or three. It was more that they were worried about Ranboo. And he had to admit, while the concept of someone being worried for him was a new one, it wasn’t exactly unwelcome. It was nice. A little freaky, at times, sure, but nice. The two of them even reminded him to do basic things like eating and sleeping, reminders they almost never would’ve gotten back at The Tower.

Well, maybe it was more accurate to say that Tubbo often reminded both them and Tommy to eat, while Tommy reminded Tubbo and them to sleep. It was comforting, in a way, to know that the pair struggled like he did. Ranboo was certain that at least one of them had gone through something similar to their own experiences. He wasn’t sure what, and the particles had been incredibly cryptic, but they were 99% sure there was something there.

It might’ve been in the way Tommy glowered whenever Ranboo mentioned his early years, being kept deep in the bowels of The Tower and prodded at like an experiment. It might’ve been in the way Tubbo flinched whenever Ranboo casually brought up something Dolos had done, turning to them with a serious expression and insisting that that was abuse. It might’ve been in the way the pair exchanged sorrowful and knowing glances when they thought Ranboo wasn’t looking. Or the way Tommy’s hands shook when Ranboo recounted his feeling of awe at seeing the sky for the first time when he was twelve.

It might’ve just been the conviction and practised ease that the pair helped him, Tommy insisting that what Dolos and the officials at The Tower had done was bad, Tubbo helping them through nightmares with steady hands and effortless comfort.

It might’ve been the ease with which they both welcomed him, a borderline stranger, into their home. With such trust and care that by day four it felt almost as if they’d known the two of them for years, and it was only day seven when Tubbo finally relented, and they sat down to talk about taking Ranboo outside.

-0-

It took an entire week for Tubbo to finally cave, overcoming his paranoia in favour of getting them all out of the cramped apartment. It had been his day at work, and when he arrived home in a whirlwind of chaos, it was clear to everyone that he was in a bad mood.

Immediately after slamming open the door, causing both Ranboo and Tommy both to jump and send the card tower they’d been working on tumbling to the floor, Tubbo collapsed onto the sofa with a groan. With his face smushed into the sofa, he barely moved as Tommy unfolded himself from the floor and prodded his friend in the side. Ranboo had already lept to their feet, rushing over to the front door and gingerly easing it closed. They hovered beside the sofa, seemingly unsure of how he could help.

Tommy, however, held no such reservations, instead taking Tubbo roughly by the shoulders and shaking him. Not hard, but enough to cause Tubbo to let out a muffled groan and swipe a hand at his friend, before sitting up and pushing his hair away from his eyes. With a serious voice and tired eyes, he let his gaze flicker around the room, settling on Tommy’s face.

“We are not doing this sh*t anymore.” He said plainly, flopping back onto the sofa but this time staring up at the ceiling. Tommy gave a nervous chuckle, exchanging a quick glance with Ranboo as he did. Surely his friend wouldn’t kick the teen out, but well… Tommy trusted Tubbo, there was no doubt about it, but he could acknowledge the divisive and distrusting nature of his friend. “Uh, big man, you’re gonna have to elaborate a bit there. We did agree to let Ranboo stay, that’s still on, right?”

“sh*t, yeah, obviously,” Tubbo sat up again, suddenly alert. “Of course that's still on. I just meant we can’t keep them cooped up like this. It’s not working for anyone, and quite frankly I’m tired of it. Eret is practically pulling their hair out at the stress of always missing an employee, Purpled is having to work extra hard to cover, and whichever one of us does go to work has an absolute sh*t time of it trying to make up for the work of both of us.” He paused, taking a breath and running a hand down his face before he continued.

Both Ranboo and Tommy had lowered themselves onto the floor, Tommy clearly considering his friend's words and Ranboo with their head bent towards the floor, no doubt blaming himself for the disruption. Tommy was going to force-feed the dumbass some self-esteem if they didn’t stop holding themself accountable for stupid sh*t.

“Wilbur is getting pissy, the dramatic prick, he showed up again today by the way. He came in on Friday looking for you but obviously you weren’t there, and again today. He threw an entire bloody speech about missing his favourite barista, which was a little insulting might I add, before leaving in a sulk.” Tubbo continued in a deep exhale, sighing heavily. “And that's not to mention how f*cking stuffy the apartment is with at least two of us here all the time… No offence Ranboo, I know I’m the one who enforced that idea.” Tubbo tacked onto the end after a second's thought, staring at the floor for a moment before shaking himself slightly and continuing.

“But anyway, I reckon we all, including Ranboo, should go to work tomorrow.”

The cacophony of sound from both Tommy and Ranboo meant that Tubbo had to raise his voice so they could hear his next words. “We don’t have to tell her sh*t, you and I both know that Eret wouldn’t ask questions, Tommy. Sure, he’ll wonder, but in the long run I don’t doubt that he’ll be a bit more preoccupied with the new kid we picked up for them to mother hen.”

He turned to face Ranboo properly, voice returning to normal volume as the other two seemed to consider this. Tommy looked mostly satisfied, if a little apprehensive, but Ranboo was still shaking their head slightly, fear clear in their eyes.
“And we can show you around a bit, Ranboo. We can get you some new clothes, you shouldn’t have to keep borrowing Tommy’s sh*t, he has awful taste.” Tommy squawked indignantly, but Tubbo ignored him with a grin. “And you don’t have to socialise at all, we can just sit you in the back room at work. I’ll be right there, and Tommy’ll be just in the front. I promise you nothing bad will happen.”

Apparently, this was enough to convince Ranboo, who nodded with conviction. Tommy threw his hands up, evidently having forgotten Tubbo’s jab at his clothing choices, whooping loudly. “Oh hell yeah! Gods, I thought I’d never get my shirt back, thank f*ck. No offence, Ranboob.”

The masked boy laughed quietly, shaking their head. “None taken, Tommy. So, what d’you want to propose then Tubbo?”

Tommy scrunched up his face dramatically, entirely ignoring Tubbo’s pondering hum, and turned to face his newest roommate fully. “Propose? Did you just propose to my best friend? Without asking me first?! I’m insulted, how could you!” He huffed, folding his arms across his chest and sticking his tongue out as Tubbo burst into ruckus giggles and Ranboo spluttered to correct him. “Wha- no, no I didn’t propose to him! I was just asking what he plan-”

Almost crying with laughter, Tubbo broke in, voice shaking with the force of his giggles. “I- Just for the record, I accept.” He tapered off into peals of laughter, clutching his stomach as Ranboo looked wildly between the two boys.

“Tubbo! You didn’t even ask for my blessing to marry Boob Boy over here!” Tommy screeched, breathing heavily as he attempted to recover from the hilarity of the situation.

“I don’t need your f*cking blessing, Tommy, I’ll marry whoever the f*ck I want thank you very much!”

“Uh-” Ranboo interjected, a confused half-smile on their face. “While I entirely support that notion, I’d prefer it wasn’t me you marry. Although I wish you and your future partner luck. More so the partner.”

“Awww but why not!” Tubbo whined, reaching his hands out as if longing to hug Ranboo. The taller boy, for what was probably the third time in the last minute, spluttered incredulously. “What do you mean ‘why not’??”

“...We could do it for tax benefits?” Tubbo suggested, a falsely innocent smirk plastered across his face. Tommy, who had stood up at some point in the conversation, was now clutching the arm of the sofa to stop himself falling over from the laughter still racking his frame. A mix of horror, incredulity, and fondness were painted across Ranboo’s face as they stammered out their next sentence. “We- Tubbo, we’re not- we’re not even eighteen yet! How would we even-”

“So you’ll consider it when we’re eighteen then!” Tubbo perked up, shouting triumphantly.

“Well now that is just not what I just said is it-”

Chapter 28: I Ought To Be Thy Adam (But I Am Rather The Fallen Angel)

Chapter Text

Enclosed are what remains on the records of subject GF2487, one of the fifteen subjects of the IOPAHE gene splicing spawn experiment, and to date the only one to survive past three years. The rest of the documents are yet to be rewritten and uploaded due to their damaged state (See: IOPAHE Heroics fire incident C.20XX), but this issue will be resolved in time.

New subject sheet, attempt number 0014

Subject entry one:

Date: 02/11/20XX (November 2nd)

Day: Sunday

Subject identifier: GF2487
IOPAHE card: 1427536794

Subject ‘name’: Ranboo Belov’d

Subject handler (current): Dream Wsteken (Hero alias – Dolos)

Subject handler(s) (past): [REDACTED]

Subject producer: [REDACTED] Awe’Dued (Hero alias – [REDACTED])

Subject species: Attempted splicing of 52% Enderian DNA, 46% Ghast DNA, 2% Cat DNA.

Please underline the status of splicing using one of the following:

1. Significant damage to subject
2. Not successful but no apparent damage to subject
3. Partially successful, many discrepancies but no apparent damage to subject
4. Mostly successful, lacking some traits, no apparent damage to subject
5. Entirely successful, complete trait aim set, no apparent damage to subject

If underlined status is any less than ‘Entirely successful’, please elaborate here:

. Subject GF2487 shows a significant lack of mob traits when in human form, the only noticeable ones being its unnatural height (possibly attaining to its Enderian DNA), slightly sharpened teeth (this could be cause of either Endrian or Cat DNA, this is yet to be confirmed), and vaguely slitted pupils (again pointing to either Cat or Enderian links, likely Cat). The subject appears to be lacking any noticeable Ghast-related attributes.

. Enderian form appears to be physically painful to draw out, further testing required

. Strange colouring when in Enderian form, appears to be some kind of half-albino situation, GF2487’s right side (face on) appears to be pure white, more akin to a ghast. Possibly some residual effects of Ghast DNA?

. Discolouration of eyes – GF2487 retains one red eye on its right side, further prompting the assumption that this is in some way related to the Ghast DNA, however its left eye appears to be green, possibly attaining to the Cat DNA rather than the Enderian DNA.

. Small stumps, possibly the beginnings of horns, appear to protrude from GF2487’s skull. This does not match with any of its DNA splices. These still need to be subjected to testing, as it is yet to be clarified whether these are horns, tumours, or some other biological defect.

Subject entry two:

Date: 09/11/20XX (November 9th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: GF2487 appears mildly active, growth rate appears to be as intended, subject appears to have the cognitive ability of a human toddler, possibly about two to three years of age, despite it only being created a week ago. If next week's evaluation goes as intended, growth process should be reduced to human speed to account for as much mental development and observation of adolescence as possible. NOTE: Subject appears to be lacking the speech typical to a child of its ‘age’. Possible effect of gene splicing? Book testing to see inside its voicebox.

Subject entry three:

Date: 16/11/20XX (November 16th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Growth appears as expected, subject seems to have good control over its physical motion. It still seems to be lacking the ability to vocalise itself like others its mental and physical age, although testing yielded no abnormal results. From what can be gathered, GF2487 appears to not be speaking out of choice. Further research is required.

Subject entry twelve:

Date: 18/01/20XX (January 18th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Rate of growth seems to be continuing normally, no adverse effects seem to have occurred since the return to normal maturing speed (C.17/11/20XX). Subject seems to have full vocal range, ability to make sounds appears to exist in its entirety. GF2487 was subjected to some SR-2 testing, revealing it has the capability to make sounds such as: screams; cries; small words; loud yells; screeches. Little progress seems to have occurred in prompting it to speak willingly, but targets have been put in place.

Subject entry forty:

Date: 01/08/20XX (August 1st)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Great progress has occurred since subject GF2487 first began developing on its own bodily clock (C.17/11/20XX). Subject appears to be maturing at a similar rate to a human child, and appears to match the average description of a six-year-old human both physically and mentally. Its probable lifespan has not yet been discovered. It has yet to show any specific powers or unusual developments, although its ability to shift between Enderian form and human form seems to have vastly increased, as has the ease at which it is able to do so. Further practice is required, aim to get transformation perfected with no crying/unnecessary reaction by early next year.

Subject entry sixty four:

Date: 16/01/20XX (January 16th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: GF2487 is showing great progress in its physical, mental, and emotional skills. It is still yet to display any Ghast-esque traits, although its Enderian related powers (form shifting and teleportation) seem to be coming along nicely, and so far subject has shown a remarkable ability to almost always land on its feet, possibly hinting at the effects of the Cat DNA in it.

Subject entry eighty one:

Date: 15/05/20XX (May 15th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Subject’s verbal skill has increased, and it has spoken first voluntary words since entry seventy six (C.10/04/20XX). Subject still seems to be having difficulty speaking, with a large number of halts and stutters. This still shows progress, and subject seems to be interacting more with staff and handler.

Subject entry eighty nine:

Date: 10/07/20XX (July 10th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Subject seems to have little or no concept of gender, but has expressed discomfort at being referred to as ‘it’. It did not seem to show any preference to particular alternate pronouns, though when asked by handler it admitted that it preferred ‘he’, ‘they’, or ‘she’ over ‘it’. This makes an interesting development, as subject was modelled after a male Enderian and displays most of the same physical traits. More research will be conducted into the idea of gender in spawns such as this.

Subject entry one hundred:

Date: 25/09/20XX (September 25th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Despite GF2487 now ageing at a rate similar to that of a human child, it still seems to be growing (physically) at an exponentially higher rate. While an average 7-year-old boy typically stands at about 4ft, GF2487 reaches an astounding 5ft 3. This development must be looked into, although it is no doubt due to the Enderian genes that GF2487 possesses. On a separate note, its handler should be arriving back in about a month and a half, meaning our research into its personal development can be continued with ease.

Subject entry one hundred and three:

Date: 16/10/20XX (October 16th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Subject’s pupils appear to be widening, this may prompt further research into the reason behind this. Is its Cat DNA losing effectiveness? If so, how? Is a spawn such as this one able to manipulate or control its DNA? Is it a conscious choice? Handler A has returned, and subject appears much unchanged mentally. However, it now insists that handler refers to it by ‘he’ or ‘they’. This development was unprecedented, as it previously showed no particular preference to pronouns. It also attempted to bite handler A when handler A refused, more discipline is needed to ensure that subject will be a worthy asset in the future.

Subject entry one hundred and twenty three:

Date: 05/03/20XX (March 5th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Lack of development in subject, it seems to be falling into something akin to a depressive episode. Further research must be conducted into the effect of emotion on GF2487. Continued defiance will result in termination, so it is vital we discover and resolve the issue before it can stem into a larger problem.

Subject entry two hundred and seventy eight:

Date: 19/02/20XX (February 19th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: GF2487 seems to be progressing nicely. It is still significantly taller than the average human its age, standing at 5ft 7 while most 10-year-old boys stand at about 4ft 6, but there seems to be little progression in other gene-related differences. Subject seems to be losing its ability to always land on its feet, although it still retains above average balance. Handler B came in today, and this resulted in a spike in Subject’s excitement and also its fear, creating an interesting day chart. This day chart can be found enclosed with the others, and should be filed under ‘19/02/20XX dayspike’.

Subject entry three hundred and twelve:

Date: 28/11/20XX (November 28th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Further research must be done into the effects of raising a person completely cut off from the outside world, and the extent that will affect their cognitive ability and ability to discern emotional manipulation from genuine love – is the abundance of this problem specifically found in GF2487? Is it a result of its DNA mixture? Or just the fact it has been raised so secluded? On an unrelated topic, handler B has been suggesting taking subject outside. Handler B suggests allowing subject to be acclimated to the outside world, while also arguing that it will allow him to train subject to be a good assistant, and see how it reacts in real-world situations. Some extra testing and obedience training will have to be conducted first, but it may be interesting.

Subject entry three hundred and forty seven:

Date: 03/04/20XX (April 3rd)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: GF2487 was subjected to outside bacteria and stronger lights today, it showed high adverse reactions. More testing will need to be done before we allow handler B to take it outside permanently. The light difference only seemed to cause temporary discomfort, but the new bacteria seems to have made GF2487 violently unwell. It will be interesting to test certain aspects of its different genes reacting to this bacteria. We will have to draw out this experience for as long as possible before its immune system adapts to the bacteria permanently.

Subject entry three hundred and ninety one:

Date: 10/12/20XX (December 10th)

Day: Sunday

Visual inspection: Just a few more tests are to be run, and then handler B has permission to permanently withdraw GF2487 from the laboratory. It is advised that it is bought in on occasion for testing, but it seems to not have made any noteworthy changes since the last inspection.

Subject discharge:

Date: 17/12/20XX (December 17th)

Day: Sunday

Subject identifier: GF2487
IOPAHE card: 1427536794

Subject ‘name’: Ranboo Belov’d

Subject details (see attached ID):

Birth Date - 02/11/20XX

Age (as of discharge) - 12

First name - Ranboo

Middle name - N/A

Surname - Belov’d

Subject handler (current): Dream Wsteken (Hero alias – Dolos)

Subject handler(s) (past): [REDACTED]

Subject producer: [REDACTED] Awe’Dued ( Hero alias – [REDACTED])

Subject species: Attempted splicing of 52% Enderian DNA, 46% Ghast DNA, 2% Cat DNA.

Special information: Subject displays an adverse and seemingly painful reaction to rain or water of any kind. This is only prevalent when subject is in Enderian form. Subject shows anxiety around unfamiliar people. Subject displays dislike for loud sounds. Subject has above average balance. Subject retains the ability to teleport (see enclosed power suppressing injector).

Chapter 29: You Leave Because You’re Certain of Who You Want To Be

Chapter Text

Wednesday morning dawned bright and early for the three boys, light spilling through the windows that had been left un-curtained the previous evening. An alarm cut through the peaceful air, buzzing loudly. With it vanished the last vestiges of tranquillity, bringing instead the all-too-familiar chaos that they’d all come to know.

Tommy was stumbling around blindly, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he felt around for his clothes. It had been his turn to sleep on the floor, Ranboo taking the bed and Tubbo still being assigned the sofa. He snatched a crumpled shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head and yawning loudly. From where he stood in the kitchen, Tubbo gave his friend a disgusted glance before rolling his eyes and turning back to the slightly stale cereal he was chewing on. Ranboo still had yet to emerge from the bedroom by the time Tommy sat down, orange juice and cheese sandwich that had been forced upon him by Tubbo clutched in his hand.

When Ranboo finally did emerge, he looked almost as nervous as the evening they’d first arrived. Twirling their mask in his hands, he shifted on his feet. Tubbo gestured to them, and they shuffled closer. Due to his frankly upsetting height, even Tommy’s shirt was too small for Ranboo. Wincing as Ranboo attempted – with little success – to tug the shirt down, Tommy mentally shifted ‘clothes shopping’ about four spaces up on his to-do list.

“-mmy? You good there king?” Blinking, Tommy realised he hadn’t even processed Tubbo’s words and gave a questioning hum. The brunette furrowed his brow, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “As I was saying, I think it’s best if we leave early today, as soon as Ranboo finishes their breakfast. That means we can catch the earlier train, which might be better so we can show him round a bit more. Also, one of us should message Eret a heads up. And we can go clothes shopping after work, I’m pretty sure Mellohi Mall opened back up on Saturday.”

He glanced between his roommates, waiting for confirmation from the pair. Tommy nodded absently, chewing on his sandwich, muttering a short “yeah, that sounds good. I’ll message Eret in a sec,” as crumbs from his mouth flew across the table. Ranboo was also nodding, almost radiating nervous energy as he jittered their leg.

Twenty minutes, a missing sock, one dropped sandwich, and half a pillow fight later saw the three teenagers hurrying down the street, doing their best to avoid any still-darkened alleyways in the late-February morning. The frosty air nipped at their faces, turning Tommy’s nose red and causing Tubbo’s hands to shake in his pockets. Ranboo seemed accustomed to the cold, and was finding enjoyment in watching their breath puff in front of them.

The train was miraculously late, Tubbo’s exasperated chivvying doing little to get them on board faster. Their carriage was quiet, full of the gaunt faces of half-asleep students and adults sipping coffees or glowering at newspapers. A few half-hearted eye-rolls got sent their way, one weary half-smile from a face that Tommy vaguely recognised. None of their fellow commuters seemed particularly pleased at having to share a compartment with what they assumed to be three rowdy teenage boys, which, honestly, was entirely fair. But Ranboo soon wrangled the other two into some empty seats, plucking a newspaper off his own before sitting down. The man sat across from them hummed in annoyance, eyebrows disappearing high into his forehead as Tommy stuck his tongue out at him.

“Tommy! Stop pissing off random old men!” Tubbo whacked his friend on the wrist, hissing his words a touch too loudly and earning another glare from the man opposite.

“Jesus Christ, you two are actually impossible.” Ranboo muttered as he slumped down in their seat, running a hand wearily down their face and sighing heavily as the people around them shifted away. Grinning cheekily, Tommy leant over and snatched the newspaper out of his hands, clearing his throat before he began to read aloud.

“‘Heightened tensions around Log Lagoon have been reported by our number one hero Ares-’ Oh well of course, Ares knows f*ckin’ best after all. Why not, let's all listen to Ares!” He muttered, rolling his eyes and squawking as Tubbo plucked the paper from his grip and scanned it with a furrowed brow. “Oi! You’re not seriously going to listen to anything those sh*theads have to say, right?” He paused, then added on as if in afterthought “...No offence, Ranboo.”

“None taken.” The masked teen shrugged. Tommy took this as permission to resume his rant. “See! You can’t actually believe what he’s saying!” Tommy huffed at the idea as Tubbo sighed in apparent exasperation. “No, Tommy, obviously I’m not listening to the heroes. Log Lagoon is… important, I dunno. I recognise the name from some of my f- from some of Schlatt’s papers.” The brunette almost spat the name, scrunching up his nose in distaste as Tommy straightened up in his seat and Ranboo hummed inquisitively.

Oh. Oh, Tommy realised suddenly. They hadn’t yet exactly… Well, neither of them had told Ranboo anything about the man who ruined both their childhoods. Evidently the ex-hero wasn’t exactly slow on the uptake, furrowing his brow and curiously asking, “Schlatt? Who’s that, I recognise the name but should I know them?”

Tubbo seemed too absorbed in the newspaper to have reached the same conclusion as Tommy, and he blanched violently when Ranboo said the name. “You don’t- Oh.” Realisation seemed to dawn on the boy, and he turned to face Ranboo properly. Tommy, seated on their other side, averted his eyes towards the floor and clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. Glancing at his friend, Tubbo nodded numbly. “Of course you don’t… Yeah. Well, he’s- he’s running for president, that’s probably why you know him. He’s, ah, not a good guy, to put it one way.” Tommy scoffed at the wildly minimised statement and crossed his arms.

Wincing at his friend's obvious distaste, Tubbo shrugged. “Okay, that’s an understatement. More than an understatement. It’s… a really, really long story. A story for later, actually, let’s start our Wednesday on a happy note, yeah? You’re outside! It’ll be good! Let's have fun, ‘kay?” He clapped his hands, stretching and tucking the newspaper that had been clenched tight in his hand into his backpack. Ranboo nodded slowly, clearly not satisfied with the answer but unwilling to test their luck on getting more information at the current time. Instead, the three teens sat quietly for a while, Tommy flicking around on his phone while Tubbo and Ranboo played a silent game of noughts and crosses on the steamed up window.

-0-

With a judder and loud screech, the train finally slowed to a halt, rocking slightly as the ones coming up from the lower districts often did. In all honesty, it was no small miracle that district 47 trains were even allowed up in district 9, the grimy and heavily graffitied grey clashing harshly with the bright cleanliness of so many of the higher districts. Still, 9 wasn’t exactly the lap of luxury, one of the more tolerant districts as well as, as far as Tommy knew, the only single-digit district with a station containing a direct line to 50.

The station was packed, the sound of shuffling feet making their way across the dirt-ridden floor loud in Tommy’s ears. The familiar electronic voice of the train-lady rang out, announcing the next train's imminent departure, and a sudden wave of movement nearly separated the three boys before leaving the station significantly emptier than it had been mere moments ago. Ushering the other two up the stairs, Tommy laughed quietly at the startled look on Ranboo’s face.

“Not used the rabble of the public then, Ran?” He laughed brashly, watching what little of Ranboo’s face he could see turn pink. Whether it was due to the callout or the nickname, Tommy wasn’t quite sure. Either way, they huffed and wrapped his arms across his chest, allowing themself to be guided up the stairs.

“Yeah, well, not like I’ve had all that many opportunities to be out and about, y’know?” Ranboo hitched up his mask, mumbling slightly.

With a quick snort, Tommy shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Well damn fair enough I guess. Don’t worry, you’ll adjust to it.” Tubbo, who had been watching the interaction carefully, rolled his eyes with a grin and guided his two taller friends out into the crowded street. “Right, where d’you wanna head first? If we’re leaving Mellohi 'til after work, then we can always wander around for a bit unless you had anywhere specific in mind?” He turned to the other two, eyebrows raised, and gestured around.

Tommy just shrugged in response, entirely unsure of where it would be best to take an escaped hero at 8am on a Wednesday. Not that Ranboo would be recognised anyway, the mask did its job well. Speaking of, the taller teen looked slightly sick at the amount of people milling around. Tommy scrutinised them for a moment as the three were buffeted from side to side by busy people with no regard for others, quickly realising that he’d never seen Aether attending any of the numerous crowded hero events that were held. Huh.

Tubbo seemed to have taken note of this too, and he observed Ranboo with a concerned gaze. “...Okay, no suggestions here either. How about we just try find somewhere quiet?”

Ranboo’s relief was almost palpable, their shoulders sagging as he let out a puff of air. They reminded Tommy inexplicably of a deflating balloon.

Balloon boy/ref?

FNAF/POS

frrr

get our boi some comfort rn

tmmyLove

Yesyes

they neeed quiet corner

Overstimulation sucks arse

YES

OH ABSOLUTELY

Thats an insult to arse-suckers

Message deleted by moderator

Guys remember, no chathopping.

Ofc

Rude chathoppers smh

PogU

I feel starved of Eret content

next chapter dw

wait wut

NVM FORGET I SAID ANYTHING

Smh you and your f*cking fourth wall breaks

hahah anyways what was that about arse-suckers earlier-

Tommy shook the voices away as he was led down the street, tucking his vaguely glowing hands into his pockets as he moved almost automatically along the well-practised route he’d taken most mornings for the past three years. But instead of turning left onto Bell Road, at the end of which stood the cafe, he was dragged straight past. “-ay so we have about twenty-ish minutes before Eret’ll be expecting us, so I figured we could go sit in the square near the park for a bit. It won’t be too crowded, don’t worry.” Tubbo explained as he weaved through the streets.

Tubbo was weird like that. Sure, the streets up in 9 weren’t nearly as twisting and confusing as those in 47, but there were still a lot, and to Tommy they all looked exactly the same. How his friend could possibly have it all committed to memory was a mystery to him. He was like a human GPS or something, which Tommy could respect. Mulling the idea over, he barely even noticed the people around them slowly dwindling away, or the ground beneath them becoming more and more green. In fact, he only began paying attention when he was forced onto a bench by a vaguely exasperated Tubbo. Tommy grinned up at the boy as Ranboo took a seat beside him, yanking Tubbo down to sit on his other side.

His friend fixed him with an unimpressed stare, shaking his head fondly. “Honestly Tom, someone could kidnap you and you probably wouldn’t notice.” He leant back against the bench, smiling as Tommy squawked indignantly. “Oi! Lies and slander, that is. Of course I’d notice getting kidnaped!”

“Well you didn’t notice last time, did you?” Tubbo chuckled under his breath, shooting upright as Tommy slapped a hand across his face. “I was a bloody baby, dipsh*t! I’d like to see you combat a kidnapper from your crib. Lies and f*ckin’ slander. Do you hear this Ranboo? He’s slanderous! Slanderising me!”

Ranboo furrowed their brow as Tommy gestured wildly around. “I- I don’t think that’s how you use that word, but okay.”

“Yeah! Yeah, see Tubbo! Ranboo agrees with me. How dare you be so slandericious?!” Tommy hooted, pumping both his fists in the air.

Tubbo, laughing too hard to talk, slid lower on the bench and held a hand to his mouth. In gasping breaths, he giggled loudly. “Slan- slandericious!”

Evidently possessing a similar train of thought, Ranboo cut in dryly. “Well now I’m pretty sure you’re just trying to say the word wrong.”

“How f*cking dare you!” Tommy yelled, a playful smile plastered across his face as he leapt up from the bench. It soon dissipated as he promptly slipped, falling flat on his back.

Five minutes later saw the trio sat back on the bench, Tubbo still hysterical and Tommy trying fruitlessly to pick twigs out of his hair as Ranboo stared straight ahead as if he’d just emerged from a warzone. Which, given the chaos that had ensued in the past minutes, wouldn’t be too far-fetched of a description.

“So!” Finally gaining control of himself, Tubbo clapped his hands together and sat up, his face still stretched into a wide grin. “Who’s down for a wish?”

Abandoning the unsuccessful attempt to rid his hair of twigs, Tommy perked up with a childlike gasp. Ranboo, on the other hand, surveyed the two with visible confusion.

“Oh f*ck yeah! We haven’t had time in weeks!” Tommy cheered, Removing himself from the bench much more carefully than he did the last time he got up.

Tubbo nodded, turning to Ranboo for confirmation. When the boy just stared at him in apparent bewilderment, he seemed to catch on.
“Shoot, yeah I forgot you probably haven’t been here before. The stream over there? People use it as a wishing-well type thing.”

This explanation did little to dispel Ranboo’s confusion, and he stared at the pair for a moment. “A… wishing-well?”

“Yeah, like they chuck coins in and make a wish. Y’know.” Tubbo laughed, looking expectantly for Ranboo to understand. Instead, Ranboo simply stared at the river dubiously, as if expecting a genie to pop out and offer them three wishes.

“Wait, so people just throw money in some water? And wish for something? Do the wishes come true?”

Tommy chose that moment to cut in. “No, it’s a bunch of bullsh*t. But hey, free money I guess. And we’re too dirt-poor to use actual money, so our tradition is just to find the coolest looking pebble and chuck it in. Have you really never heard of a wishing well before?”

“Wh- No?! That’s so dumb, why would someone waste their money on that?” Ranboo’s face just contorted into further confusion.

“Exactly! It’s stupid. Anyway, I dibs first pebble!” Tommy called out, already making his way towards the surrounding garden beds in search of an interesting-looking stone. Tubbo followed close behind, laughing quietly and gesturing for Ranboo to follow. A few moments later, they did.

After the three boys had all secured their stones, Tommy apparently having forgotten his plan to throw his pebble first, they lined up at the edge of the water. Tubbo counted down from ten, Tommy – and then Ranboo, with some prompting – joining in when he got to five. With a whoop from Tommy, a chuckle from Tubbo, and an amused huff from Ranboo, they all simultaneously dropped their pebbles into the water.

After a second of silence, Ranboo started speaking. “I wish-” But before he could finish, or even think of what to say, a mud-crusted, sweaty palm pressed over his mask. “Don’t say the wish aloud, dumbass! It won’t come true then.” Tommy hissed, rolling his eyes as Ranboo pried his hand away from their mouth. “I thought you said it doesn’t come true anyway?” He asked, confusion lacing his tone.

“Well yeah, but that ruins the magic.”

Shaking their head, Ranboo shared a mystified glance with Tubbo, who simply shrugged in return before turning back to face the river.

The three remained like that for some time, staring out at the water, before Tommy looked at his phone and swore as he realised they were running late.

It wasn’t until they were hurrying down the now-empty streets that Ranboo finally decided on what his wish would be.

I wish every day was as good as this one.

Chapter 30: HELLO? HELLO? PLEASE GOD I JUST WANT A BLACK COFFEE [...] NOOOO

Chapter Text

“Eret! We’re here!” Tommy called out as he shoved his way into the café, blatantly ignoring the flowery Sorry! We’re closed! sign swinging on the door. Sound came from the kitchen, and a comfortingly familiar voice called out.

“Ah, I was wondering where you boys got to. Come through, my hands are a bit full right now.”

Sure enough, as they entered the back room, Eret stood by the oven with a tray of fresh muffins in her hands. He smiled, pointing Tubbo over to the plate that had been left on the table. “It’s good to see you both here together. And you must be the mysterious friend I’ve heard so much about! Sit down, please.”

Ranboo shifted slightly, not moving from where they stood, and Tommy rolled his eyes affectionately before grabbing a chair and steering his friend down onto it. “Thanks.” Ranboo muttered, eyes still firmly fixed on the floor.

Eret didn’t let that perturb them, however, instead plucking each muffin from the baking tray and placing them gently onto the plate that Tubbo held. The kitchen fell silent for a moment, and Tommy sat himself down on a countertop, earning a reprimanding sigh from his boss.

“Tommy, you can’t just sit on a work surface while we’re cooking! Especially not when you look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.”

Tubbo snorted as Tommy stuck his tongue out but hopped off the counter anyway. “Actually, funny story there-”

Once Tubbo finished recounting their morning adventures, Eret watching fondly, Tommy had somehow resuscitated the coffee machine once again. Eret pulled another batch of baked goods from the oven, and Tubbo was tasked with flipping the sign to open. They’d agreed that Ranboo would be in the kitchen with Eret and Tubbo for the day, and they’d introduce them to Purpled when he came in later.

The morning was almost alarmingly slow, a grand total of three customers arriving in the first hour of Tommy’s shift. He wasn’t exactly complaining, though, as it just meant he had time to daydream. And he doubted it would cause Eret any problems, as they somehow always managed to be doing well financially despite xeir only job being running a small bakery in district 9. Hell, he even insisted, much to Tommy’s chagrin, on paying him full hours even on his days off. It was a bit odd, sure, but Eret probably just came from a well-off background or something.

Either way, the lack of customers meant that the first part of his shift flew by, most of the time spent listening to the muffled voices of Tubbo and Eret, sometimes even the quiet addition of Ranboo in later hours, talking through the wall.

The tranquillity was only broken when the voices started getting loud, Tommy frowning as they roared in his ears. That… usually wasn’t a good sign.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite gremlin.”

Tommy groaned loudly, a smile barely hidden as he let his head flop into his hands. “Why are you here?”

Wilbur lifted a hand to his chest with a gasp, his theatre kid side making itself known as he dramatically pretended to wipe away a tear. “What, can’t a man want coffee anymore? Goodness, you have no idea how much I’ve missed your coffee. Your friend is great, but he can’t do my order right.”

“Oh yeah, I assume it’ll be… let me check. Oh right, black coffee with eight shots of ristresso?”

Now it was Wilbur’s turn to let out a groan, shaking his head. “Really? Still?”

Grinning mischievously, Tommy began making the coffee order he had memorised. When that happened, he wasn’t quite sure. “Of course, Wil-bitch, what did you expect?”

“See you do know my name! It really isn’t that hard!” Wilbur cried indignantly, folding his arms across his chest and sulking like a toddler.

Laughter rang loudly through the cafe as Tommy clutched his sides. “You just admitted your name is Wil-bitch! Caught in 4k motherf*cker!” He danced around like a child, holding up both his middle fingers at the man and sticking out his tongue.

Wilbur, sighing exasperatedly, rested his head on the counter. “How the f*ck are you the cashier here? Who let you be the one socialising?”

“Hey! I’m just that f*cking pog that Eret took one look at me and knew I would be the best cashier she’d ever have! And I bet I get more bitches than you.”

Wilbur snorted. “Oh yeah, you’re just the picture of eloquence, aren’t you Tommy?” Then, seemingly as an afterthought, he added with a scoff. “And anyway, you’re what, five? Did your mother teach you that language?”

Squawking indignantly, Tommy threw both his hands up in irritation. “Oi! I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly el-o-quent! I’m the most handsome, charming big man you’ll ever f*cking meet! And I’m almost sixteen, for your information!”

He crossed his arms, tactfully leaving out the fact that his mum was dead. Well, probably dead. Either way, he didn’t need Wilbur looking at him like he was a charity case.

“You? Charming? Tommy, you have about as much charm as a dead slug.” Wilbur deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. The gesture was painfully familiar, and if he closed his eyes, Tommy could almost hear a rumbling laugh. Of course, Theseus. You’re the biggest man, but big men still need sleep. I’ll tell you the story of Persephone tomorrow, okay?

Shaking the intruding memory away, Tommy flipped Wilbur off with his free hand. “Well at least if I was a dead slug I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

“Jesus Christ, you have the emotional maturity of a toddler.” Wilbur laughed quietly, scooping up the coffee cup that Tommy had just finished filling and dropping a five pound note onto the counter. Before Tommy could come up with a undoubtedly amazing counter-argument, the man was already striding away from him, somehow sipping at the boiling coffee as he went. “Sorry Toms, gotta dash. Got an early shift to get to.”

And as quick as he arrived, Wilbur was pushing his way back through the door, moving slightly to the right as he did to allow a different customer to enter. Tommy was left blinking at the doorway, wondering just how someone could swallow freshly-boiled coffee with such ease. Oh the many mysteries of Wilbur Soot. One of which being his last name, Tommy mused silently, as he firmly refused to believe that someone had unironically named their kid after the pig from a children's novel and the powder that appeared when something burned. Well, actually, it wouldn’t surprise him all too much. After all, someone had genuinely named him “TO3”, which was miles worse.

To rephrase, Tommy refused to believe that any good, loving parent would name their child that. And sure, Wilbur acted like a privileged prick, but he acted like a nice privileged prick, so he probably had decent parents.

Okay, that might not be the most intelligent conclusion to come to. Tubbo was nice, and his father was a raging bastard. Granted, Tubbo also had a weird-arse name. But that wasn’t a universal thing, probably. Maybe there were good parent who-

“Ahem.”

The lady standing in front of him looked beyond unimpressed. She also looked like the textbook definition of a Karen, and Tommy couldn’t help but snort slightly at her blonde inverted bob. Somewhat unsurprisingly, this didn’t do wonders to improve her impression of him.

Tommy would argue that it really was not his fault. Karen would argue that point, to which Tommy would – respectfully, might he add – tell her to f*ck off. Seriously, could he be blamed for bursting into laughter when he asked for a name for the order and she actually said Karen? Tommy would say not.

In fact, it seemed like an entirely rational and sensible response, the effects of which were only increased when the lady began shrieking at him about being friends with his manager and being able to get him fired. Which Tommy naturally called her bluff on. Which in turn led him here, walking into the kitchen to tug Eret away from their icing and let him deal with the Karen.

It goes without saying that Eret was less than impressed, more so with the Karen than with Tommy, and he relished in his boss's passive-aggressive responses. Locking eyes with Tubbo, who was poking his head around the corner to catch a glimpse of Eret going off at a customer, Tommy had to refrain from bursting into fresh peals of laughter.

After a quick scolding from Eret, which consisted of no more than a quick “Please, Tom, try not to laugh at our customers.”, Tommy was retired to the kitchen for an early lunch which proved to be just as chaotic as the rest of his day.

-0-

The room felt more tense than usual as lunch began, anxious energy practically radiating from the chair where Ranboo sat. However, their presence did little to remove from the usual mayhem of lunch breaks. Tubbo had managed to occupy himself by turning some cookie dough that had been dropped on the floor into little pellets, which he then proceeded to chuck at Tommy’s head. This, naturally, prompted Tommy to chase him into the main café with sandwich in hand, threatening loudly to douse Tubbo in grated cheese.

Eret sighed wearily, shaking her head as he stared at the doorway with a fond smile. They took a seat beside Ranboo, pushing a plate of food towards him. “Those two never tire, huh? I don’t know how you put up with them!” She chuckled kindly. “I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself, although if Tommy and Tubbo talk about me even nearly as much as they talk about you, I’m sure you’ve heard enough. I’m Eret, their boss. Any pronouns are chill except it/its.”

Xey smiled, reaching a hand across the table that Ranboo took gingerly. “Uh. Ranboo. They or he please. How… How long have Tommy and Tubbo been working for you?”

“Good to properly meet you, Ranboo. For Tommy it’ll be three years this May, and Tubbo was two years ago last month actually.” Eret shook their head gently, clearly reminiscing. “Time flies, doesn’t it?”

Ranboo, however, was trying to do the maths. “Wait, but I thought Tommy’s only fifteen? I thought the law is people aren’t allowed to work until they’re… thirteen, right? Wouldn’t that make Tommy twelve when he started?” They mumbled, pushing the plate away from him.

Eret laughed again. “Fourteen, actually, but yeah technically speaking Tommy shouldn’t have been working. He was thirteen, I think, and I couldn’t just leave him. Stubborn little kid, he wouldn’t accept any help that he thought was ‘pity’. So when he told me he was fifteen, I just accepted it and gave him the job. For all intents and purposes he’s turning eighteen in a few weeks.” She shook her head, the memory of a paper-thin thirteen year old Tommy bravely flipping them off for offering him some food playing in his mind.

“Huh. Tommy and Tubbo were right about you.” Ranboo mumbled under his breath, crossing their arms tightly. This didn’t stop Eret hearing, however, and their eyes lit up in playful curiosity. “Oh? What’ve they been saying?” She paused, pushing the plate towards Ranboo once more. “And you need to eat, you haven’t had anything the whole time you’ve been here. You’re worse than Tommy! Let me know if you don’t like anything and I’ll sort it.”

Laughing awkwardly, Ranboo finally accepted the food. He was nervous to remove their mask in front of Eret, no matter how kind xey seemed, but the baker seemed too busy staring at the floor to pay attention. So Ranboo quickly pulled the mask down, taking a bite before pulling it back up just as fast.

The sandwich was good, really good, which did make sense when he thought about it. Eret was a baker, after all. Gingerly taking the mask down again, they took a few more bites, thinking deeply. “Well… They said you were nice, and wouldn’t ask invasive questions. And you sound like a good boss. And- Um, well, I don’t think they have many good adults in their lives so I think you do good at that too.”

Eret sat in shocked silence for a moment, eyes watering worryingly as he stared at the floor. Ranboo frowned in concern, sitting up and shifting uncertainty. But, before they could apologise or attempt to fix whatever they’d done, Eret cut in. “Thank you, Ranboo, that was- very kind.” Xey wiped her eyes with a small sniffle. Ranboo stared awkwardly at the table, vehemently avoiding eye contact as Eret busied himself by clearing the table.

Thankfully, only a minute or so passed before Tubbo came tearing back into the kitchen and crouched down behind Ranboo’s chair.

“sh*t, hide me Ranboo! He’s gonna f*cking-”

That’s all he got out before Tommy appeared in the doorway, looking around frantically with a fistful of cheese in hand. “Where the f*ck did he go?” He panted, eyes darting across the room wildly as he spun on his heels. Eventually, he spotted the short brunette hiding behind Ranboo.

“f*ckin’- get over here you cowardly bastard!”

“sh*t, no, Tommy now think about this we can talk this out-”

Tommy, however, didn’t wait to hear his friend out. Instead, he ran across the kitchen in a few short strides, shouting out as he went, “Ranboo move!”

“No! Get the f*ck back here Boo!” Tubbo yelped, grabbing the back of the hoodie Ranboo was wearing, but he wasn’t quick enough. Like most people would when being told to move, Ranboo moved. The fabric of the hoodie slipped through Tubbo’s fingers as Ranboo leant to the left. The handful of cheese shot straight past his head, and, if the spluttering squawk that followed was any indication, hit Tubbo square in the face.

Twisting in his seat, Ranboo was greeted with the disgruntled face of his friend, bits of cheese caught in his hair. Tubbo spat a few chunks onto the floor with a grimace, flopping backwards onto the floor as Tommy let out a joyous cheer from the other side of the table.

“f*ck you,” Tubbo groaned, shaking flakes of cheddar from his hair as he sat up. Sighing, Eret reached into the cupboard for a dustpan and brush while Tommy crowed about his victory. It was short-lived, however, as Eret pressed the cleaning equipment into his hands. When Tommy lamented his task, Eret snorted mercilessly.

“You made the mess, you deal with the clean up.” He shrugged, holding a hand out for Tubbo to grab as she pulled him to his feet.

“But Eret, I thought I was your favourite!” Tommy bemoaned, sinking dramatically to the floor. Laughing, Eret shook their head and grinned down at the teenager. “C’mon Tom, you know full well I don’t have a favourite child.”

“Mememe, I’m Eret and I support child labour!”

Muttering darkly, Tommy began sweeping the cheese flakes into the bin, frowning all the while. Tubbo, on the other hand, chuckled loudly and took a seat beside his tallest roommate, stretching and shaking the last of the cheese from his hair. Eret, on the other hand, spluttered as she cleaned dishes. “Wh- without my lenience towards child labour you’d probably be dead!” He frowned playfully, light-heartedly whacking Tommy on the shoulder with the dish towel.

Still nibbling at his sandwich, not even bothering to hide his face when they knew none of the others would purposefully look, Ranboo let out a quick breath of laughter. It seemed that their roommates grew progressively more chaotic with each passing day, and at this point Ranboo had almost come to expect the random bouts of disruption. Still, they couldn’t help but laugh at the pure absurdity of the situation.

“Y’know, of all the sentences I expected to hear this week, that was definitely not one of them.”

Purpled’s arrival for his shift almost an hour later was awaited with bated breath, Tommy almost whooping with joy when the boy finally appeared, much to the hoodie-clad teenager’s confusion. That confusion was barely resolved when he walked into the kitchen and was greeted by an unfamiliar figure sitting in the corner. Eret was quick to introduce the pair, Purpled shifting awkwardly and Ranboo hunching their shoulders and waving.

Almost immediately, Eret turned to Purpled with an apologetic smile and asked him to cover the till for the remainder of the day. Shrugging, Purpled nodded and turned on his heel, staring bemusedly as Tommy bounded past him into the kitchen.

It was unusual for anyone but Tommy to be working out front, what with Eret being the head baker and Tubbo being too socially anxious and jumpy to be reliable. But, when Purpled started, he was shown the basics, and since both Tommy and Tubbo had been absent interchangeably over the past week or so, he’d gotten very good.

He was also just a tad more polite than Tommy, so he got along better with most of the customers. He hadn’t even sworn at that many yet! Not on purpose, at least.

Still, while Purpled didn’t display the same brazen cheekiness that Tommy was so adept at, his dry humour and sarcasm seemed to attract irritable customers like moths to a flame, so Eret had no shortage of complaints being logged. She even went as far as commenting on how they seemed unable to find employees who wouldn’t either physically or verbally attack the customers, which Tommy couldn’t help but agree with. He still flipped xem off though, and Tubbo went on a five minute long rant about why customers should know better than to try and talk to a teenager facing away from them and carrying a twelve pound bag of coffee beans.

-0-

The afternoon was much calmer after Purpled’s arrival, and the time seemed to fly past at an alarming rate. Tommy was assigned stock duty, regularly vanishing into the store room to find whatever ingredient Eret needed for a particular recipe. He was only called out to the front twice, both times to restart the coffee machine as Purpled apparently hadn’t quite gotten the hang of that yet.

Five pm rolled around fast, and the three roommates didn’t hang around long. They helped clean up, chattering excitedly all the while, and then waved goodbye to Eret and Purpled, who for some reason wanted to stay late. Tommy threw open the door, letting Tubbo catch it as it began to swing shut, and pulled Ranboo down the street. “Oh I need to show you this one shop at Mellohi, it’s so pog-”

He rambled cheerfully as they walked, Tubbo catching up quickly and shoving Tommy in retaliation for closing the door on him. His friend scoffed, grinning at Tommy’s excitement to show Ranboo around.

“So, where first?”

Chapter 31: Weep, Little Lion Man

Chapter Text

Two hours later, Tommy had almost forgotten the circ*mstances that led to clothes shopping with his best friend and an ex-hero in training. Mellohi Mall felt smaller than usual, and it didn’t take them long to work their way through all of the shops. Granted, it wasn’t as if they lingered too much. Being too poor for most of the merchandise did tend to speed up the shopping process.

Still, they didn’t leave completely empty-handed. Tommy had dug into the money he usually saved for emergencies, Tubbo had produced a stack of money, only grinning mischievously when Tommy asked where he’d got it, and even Eret had pressed some money into Ranboo’s hand before they left the café, waving away their protests and insisting they buy himself something nice. So the three exited Mellohi each holding a large bag, full to the brim. Tommy held one full of groceries, as they’d been running low and it was easier to buy them alongside everything else than it was to get them on the weekend.

The bags that Tubbo and Ranboo held, however, contained clothes. More clothes than Ranboo wanted, as he’d only selected two shirts for themself when first given the opportunity. Tommy and Tubbo found this to be entirely unacceptable, forcing more into his hands until the teen finally caved. So in the end, Ranboo found himself with a grand total of nine shirts, and that wasn’t even starting on the trousers, of which he now had five pairs. He also got two new jackets and a pair of shoes that he insisted he didn’t need. Tubbo, however, was adamant that he needed a new pair ( “no, Ranboo, you can’t wear the same shoes everyday as you wear on patrol! That’s a f*cking liability and you know it. No, you’re getting new shoes, now choose.” ), not listening to any of his friends' protests.

Tommy, who knew just how stubborn Tubbo could be, just stood to the side and smirked. He let the shorter boy dictate the clothes, while he laughed along and occasionally gave his opinions on whatever Ranboo picked out.

Not a single passer-by would ever guess that the three teens racing through the shopping centre were actually the son of a corrupt and evil politician, a vigilante who was also a kidnapping victim who grew up in a crime ring run by said corrupt and evil politician, and an ex hero-in-training. No, all they saw was three excitable kids, enjoying life by causing chaos in their local mall. Just how the three excitable kids in question preferred.

They were significantly less cheerful as they waited for the train, only just missing one and instead having to wait almost forty minutes for the next to arrive. By the time they finally piled into the packed carriage, the sun had long set in the sky, leaving all three of them jittery as the train finally pulled into district 47’s station.

Crime had always been a glaring issue in district 47, but with the lack of Theseus out patrolling over the past week it had only spiked. Porphyrion had stretched his area to its limits, but even he needed sleep and Tommy couldn’t ask him to cover every evening.

The trio barely spoke as they wove their way through the streets, taking a longer route than usual in an attempt to avoid any unnecessary sketchy alleyways. Tubbo was tense, fist clenched tight around Tommy’s sleeve as he dragged his two friends down the road. Tommy didn’t even attempt to lighten the mood as he usually might’ve, instead looking wearily around, hands glowing with energy he was preparing to release if the need arose. When he did speak, however, his words were sharp, laced with tension.

“Not that way.” He hissed, yanking Tubbo back from the corner he was about to round. His head screamed, voices layering on top of one another in a unanimous call of warning.

TURN BAKC

NTO THAT WAY

NO

ITHER WAY

DOTN GO DOEWN THERE

TOMMY DON’T

-0-

The sharp pain made him pull with more force than was perhaps necessary, and Tubbo would’ve fallen right into him if Ranboo hadn’t righted him at the last second. “What the f*ck, Tom!” The shorter boy hissed, glaring at Tommy. His anger quickly dissipated, frown dropping into concern, as he took in Tommy’s worried expression. “...Are you alright?”

But Tommy didn’t respond, wincing at the sheer volume of sound that rushed through his head.

The voices were screaming at him not to go down there. No, even screaming was an understatement. They were shrieking, wailing, roaring at him to get away. Tommy covered his ears, stumbling away, but they didn’t stop.

An arm snaked under his own, propping him up as Tubbo’s voice frantically whisper-shouted for them to move. It sounded like he was underwater, barely discernible beneath the onslaught of voices. The arm that was supporting him shifted slightly, and he stumbled. A wall scraped slightly on his back as he was lowered to the floor, damp and cold.

-0-

Ranboo disliked the dark. It was stupid and childish, but he was not a fan of the dark. When he was masquerading as Aether, it was bearable. They could put on a metaphorical mask and pretend to be brave for a few hours, but it never lasted. They enjoyed the dark even less when he wasn’t playing hero. Anything could be hiding in the shadows, there was no way to really know when something was there. So it wasn’t really all that shocking that their particles were acting up as Tommy, dragged by Tubbo, led them down the street. What was out of the ordinary was when they – seemingly inexplicably – started getting louder as the three of them were about to turn onto a new street.

They shook their head sharply, trying to ignore the sudden wave of sound, but to no avail. Distracted as he was by the noise, Ranboo failed to notice that Tommy had slowed until they almost walked into him. In front of them, Tommy stumbled, and Ranboo reached forward. But instead of falling, Tommy yanked Tubbo back with a sharp hiss.

“Not that way!” The blond grabbed Tubbo, who tripped and almost fell before Ranboo could steady him.

“What the f*ck, Tom!”

Tubbo turned with a glare, about to berate Tommy for his mistake, before he seemed to notice the pained paleness of his friend's face. “...Are you alright? Tommy?” His brow creased in concern, and he turned to Ranboo for some kind of explanation. But Ranboo could only shrug, staring at Tommy worriedly.

Then, as if on cue, Tommy’s hands clamped fiercely across his ears and he stumbled once more. Ranboo threw his hands out to steady him, sliding an arm under Tommy’s own to keep him upright. Tubbo reached out, unsure of how to help, and soon decided against helping to support Tommy in favour of moving towards the corner. Ranboo’s eyes widened, and they gestured frantically with their free hand for Tubbo to retreat.

The brunette ignored him, instead waving them off and poking his head around the corner. Almost immediately, Ranboo saw Tubbo’s face drain of colour as he reeled back with a sharp gasp. Immediately, Tubbo was moving again, this time towards where Ranboo stood. He swung Tommy’s other arm over his shoulders, creating an almost comedic image with their height difference, and began walking – almost running – away. Ranboo hurried to keep up, doing his best to keep Tommy upright as they went.

They sped down twisting streets and winding roads for what felt like years although it couldn’t have been more than three minutes, eventually coming to a halt in a dark alleyway that Ranboo didn’t recognise. They let Tommy fall, as gently as they could, leaning him against a wall, and turned towards Tubbo. The boy was just as pale as before, pacing around and running a hand through his hair.

Where he sat against the wall, Tommy began to shake. Ranboo crouched in front of his friend, hands hovering in the air near his face. “Shoot, uh, Tommy? Can you hear me?” They did their best to get Tommy’s attention, resting a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t seem to help, as Tommy just pressed his hands closer to his ears and began mumbling. “Tommy? Tommy, c’mon, just- just, um, breathe?”

Ranboo was far out of his depth. Far, far out of his depth. Just last month he’d barely even speak to anyone unless Dolos was around, and now… Now he was helping one of his closest friends recover from some kind of panic attack.

“Tubbo?”

-0-

As he turned around the corner, Tubbo wasn’t really certain what he expected. What, if anything, could make Tommy react like that? How did he even know? Was it his voices? Tubbo didn’t know as much about them as he’d like to, maybe they could warn Tommy of things like that.

But whatever he was thinking, it certainly wasn’t what faced him when he did turn the corner.

“-re of it, he lives somewhere near here. He wouldn’t waste his time defending a set of districts he didn’t live in, and he always disappears in this direction whenever I see him.” An unfamiliar voice spoke, and Tubbo saw two figures, both side-on, standing in front of him. One was shrouded in shadow, a faint, greenish glow radiating from them. The other stood proud, illuminated under a bright torch he held.

“Are you certain? You know our deal is off if you can’t get me them both.” The voice responded cooly, a slight sneer audible, and Tubbo reeled backwards. The light glinted off the man’s horns, his dark suit jacket contrasting starkly with the bright white of his shirt. Unmarked as ever. His piercing eyes permeated the dark like a headlamp, glinting cruelly.

“Yes, I’m certain.” The first voice responded irritably. “He hasn’t been seen in over a week, it might take some time so give me a break. If you keep doubting my abilities, I might start to think you don’t want my help after all. Really, you should be more grateful. Finding your little problems and helping you in the election? I should be the one denying you help.”

“Well,” The second voice, Tubbo’s father, Schlatt, huffed, and Tubbo could practically envision the destainful eye-roll he was giving. “We both know you’d do anything for the book, isn’t that right now?”

Tubbo gasped, scrambling backwards.

“What was that?” The first voice called sharply, the sound of footsteps starting not a moment later. Tubbo didn’t even think, instead turning and grabbing Tommy’s other side before walking as fast as he could without breaking into a full sprint. His mind barely even registered where they were heading, only that they needed to get away, fast.

It was only when they finally came to a halt, Ranboo gently resting Tommy against a wall, that Tubbo recognised where they were. Just a few streets from the apartment, a route he never usually would’ve taken as it strayed too close to some gang-controlled areas for his liking. He paced the darkened alley, running a shaking hand through his hair and muttering under his breath. Behind him, he could hear Ranboo saying something to Tommy, but he wasn’t paying attention.

Well, he wasn’t paying attention until Ranboo eventually called out to him directly. “Tubbo? Do you, um, know what happened? Tommy isn’t… Tommy isn’t doing great.”

Finally, he stopped his pacing and tried to formulate proper words. “Right. Okay. This is fine. Can you- Are you able to teleport? Like, when you aren’t all Aether-y?” He asked, crouching down beside his two roommates.

“Uh. Yeah, actually, I can. It’s a bit different, it’s more that I can open a path than a direct teleport, but yeah.” Ranboo nodded, already catching on and hoisting Tommy up onto their shoulder. “Home?” They asked, eyes crinkling at Tubbo above the rim of the mask.

“Yeah.” Tubbo heaved a shaky breath, running a hand down his face. “Home.”

Chapter 32: Home is Wherever I'm With You

Chapter Text

Run

RUN

No

SAFE

WE’RE SAFE

NO

RUN

LEAVE

stop

GET AWAY GET AWAY

STOP

CALM DOWN

YOU f*ckING CALM DOWN

DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DONW

SHUT THE UFCK UPO

BOT OF YOU

DANGER

RUN

HIDE

LEAVE

STAY

WAIT

STOP

“-mmy? Tommy! Can you hear me?”

The voice was muffled, and Tommy could feel a hand on his shoulder. But he couldn’t react, he didn’t want to react. He wanted to find a quiet, dark corner somewhere so he could curl into a ball and never move again.

He barely took note of the fact he was moving again. Lanky arms, the same that had held him earlier, were once again lifting him up. A sense of cold peace washed over him, and for a moment he thought death might finally have caught up to him. The dark was too heavy, too silent, for it to be natural. But it only lasted a minute, and Tommy could still feel the warm arms keeping him upright and the muttered swears of a comforting voice beside him.

And then a blast of warmth came, the air around him suddenly more familiar, and he was gently placed down onto what felt to be a sofa.

There was still a torrent of voices that poured through his mind, and suddenly Tommy was all too aware of the way his back was resting against the sofa pillows, and the warmth of the air on his face, and the uncomfortable way his shirt pressed on his chest. Tommy scrambled off the sofa, falling hard onto the ground but not registering the pain as he backed away until his back pressed against the wall. He missed the cold darkness of a few moments ago.

The voice was back. Not one of the loud ones that he couldn’t get rid of, but a different one. A calmer one. He tried to focus on the voice, but it was almost impossible to make out the muffled words beneath everything else. Almost impossible, but not quite.

“Tommy, you have to breathe, okay? Can you copy me? Breathe in for four…” The voice took an exaggerated breath in, loud enough for Tommy to hear. “Hold for seven,” The voice went silent for a moment, and Tommy both revelled in and shied away from the oppressive silence. “And then breathe out for eight. There we go, just keep doing that, okay?”

The voice continued for a few minutes, and slowly Tommy felt his breathing calm alongside it. It did little to calm the voices, however, and Tommy shoved his hands back over his ears in a vain attempt to make them even slightly more tolerable.

“Shoot,” The voice sounded even further away now, as if swaddled in heavy cloth. “Uhm, Tubbo, you wouldn’t happen to have any headphones? Or just any kind of music? Anything that Tommy likes?”

The sound of rustling followed, and the warmth of a hand pressing against each of his own made him flinch slightly. “Right,” It was a different voice this time. Different, but no less comforting. “You okay if I take your hands away from your ears now? Or you can do it yourself if you’d prefer?”

Tommy nodded, loosening his grip but not letting his hands fall, instead letting the voice gently guide them down. The voice hummed in satisfaction, the sound reverberating through his head and almost drowning out the voices for a moment.

He remembered what it was like when the voices would get too much when his brother was there. Tommy would curl up in the corner, much like he did now, but the corner was stone and damp, nothing like the plaster he leant against now. His brother would take one of their blankets, whichever was cleanest and least smelly, and would drape it around him. Around them both, if it was large enough. He would crouch down beside the blanket tent and tell a story, or hum a tune if he could. And then, when Tommy was feeling better, he would give him a hug until they both fell asleep.

His brother was dead. He hadn’t given Tommy a hug in almost half a decade. He never would again.

A pair of earbuds were placed into his ears, and sound dimmed for a moment. Then, quietly, the Animal Crossing soundtrack began playing.

Tommy tried to focus, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, the voices began to fade back to their usual slow-moving stream rather than the screeching cascade he’d been subjected to. He could hear his own breathing, hear his heartbeat in his ears. He took a few steady breaths and squinted through his eyelids. It was bright, horribly bright, and Tommy brought up a hand to shield his eyes. He didn’t need to, however, as one of the voices – that he now recognised to be Tubbo, of course – rang out, a quick instruction to the other – Ranboo, no doubt – to turn off the light.

As the room dimmed, Tommy opened his eyes properly. Tubbo was crouching in front of him, head tilted in concern. Ranboo stood behind him, hovering anxiously and wringing his hands.

“You back with us bossman?” Tubbo asked, worry laced in his tone. Tommy hummed in response, removing his hand from in front of his face. Seemingly satisfied, Tubbo nodded and turned to Ranboo with a quizzical expression on his face. “How’d you know the music would help him?”

Ranboo shrugged, rubbing the back of their neck. “It was- it was the partic… or, well, voices? Chat? I’m not sure what you call yours. But it was them, right?” He directed the question at Tommy, who nodded. “Yeah. I thought you had- yeah, well, I call mine particles. They used to, um, do that a lot. And for me, music always helped.”

“Huh.” Tubbo lifted his head in acknowledgement, sighing. “Well, good you knew what to do, at any rate.” Then he turned back to Tommy, who was still huddled on the floor. “D’you want a hug?” Tommy nodded once more, and a warm feeling rushed through him as his friend wrapped his arms around him. Tubbo shifted for a moment, turning his head to face Ranboo, and a moment later the taller boy sighed and joined the hug.

-0-

The next day of work was almost unbearably tense. Tommy wasn’t quite back to normal, still rubbing his temple sporadically and not talking nearly as much as usual. Tubbo, too, was acting odd, much more jumpy than he usually was. He’d explained, in hushed tones and gripped hands, to both his roommates exactly what he’d seen when he rounded the corner. The news of Schlatt’s return, so close to home as well, did nothing to improve Tommy’s already fragile mental state. Ranboo, who was still yet to meet the man that instilled such fear in his friends, could only watch and wonder what this ‘Schlatt’ could possibly have done that affected them so badly.

It was only when they got home, Ranboo teleporting them immediately from the station rather than attempting to traverse the dangerous streets, did they begin to relax. They didn’t have work the next day, as Eret was away on some kind of business, so the three boys instead remained indoors. They sat and laughed the day away, although hints of tension were still visible in both Tommy and Tubbo.

In a perhaps ambitious attempt to distract the pair, Ranboo suggested a film. Unsurprisingly, both boys agreed with enthusiasm. The sofa too small to hold them all, Tubbo perched on the arm of it while Tommy and Ranboo sat down. They watched one of the marvel films, Guardians of the Galaxy if Ranboo remembered correctly. They couldn’t remember which one, but it was a good film. And if Tubbo and him spent a good chunk of the time comparing Tommy to the raccoon in the film, then it only added to the fun. Tommy was grinning along with the jokes, even if he pretended to be offended. The film was good, but sad. By the end of it, Tommy looked close to tears, vehemently denying that possibility. Regardless, neither Tubbo nor Ranboo even began to make fun of him for it. Possibly because they knew that was stepping over the line, or possibly because they were both crying themselves.

Whichever it was, the sun that evening set on three children much more content than they had been the previous day. Tubbo made dinner, which was not a particularly wise choice, as he was prone to blowing things up when the opportunity arose, but as Tommy could rarely be trusted within three feet of an oven and Ranboo was suspended from cooking since making spaghetti and cheerios, he was the only option.

Tommy was lying on the floor, flicking a marble between his glowing hands, while Ranboo sat with their back against the lacklustre bookshelf, pouring over four of the older volumes. They were tattered, dishevelled, and looked like they’d been thrown onto an active battlefield. “Woah.” He murmured, flicking gently through the pages of the first. Tommy looked over, taking a sharp breath as he realised exactly which set of books Ranboo had picked up.

Well, the term ‘set’ was being used lightly in this situation, the only thing truly linking the four books being their beyond ratty condition and, unbeknownst to the two most recent lodgers, their origin.

“These look old, where’d you get them?” Ranboo asked, turning to Tommy with a glint of curiosity in his eye. Sitting up, Tommy scooted closer to Ranboo and took one of the books in his hands. The Romantic Poets. The cover was almost hanging off, and a few pages slid out as Tommy held it. One was almost soaked in blood, a large mark across the top that almost obscured the writing. He slid them back in gently.

Ranboo placed down the book they were holding and picked up another, chuckling slightly as he did. The cover was barely readable, but squinting, Ranboo was able to confirm his earlier suspicions. The Art of War. It was possibly the oldest, or at the very least the most well-loved, of the four books. The one they’d just put down was simply titled Mythology, and it too was falling apart.

“They are old.” Tommy shook his head, a nostalgic half-smile on his face. “I bought them with when I… moved out of my old residence, let's say.”

“Oh.” Ranboo nodded, eyes lingering on the bloodstained page. “That would be with- Uh, Schlatt, right?”

“Yup, that it would.” Tommy popped the p, stacking the four books and standing up so he could slide them carefully back onto the shelf. “My brother and I didn’t exactly have much else to do, so they’re… well-loved, as you can see.”

Ranboo, who had been staring at the books as they were lifted away, made a strange choking sound. “Your- your brother? I didn’t know…” He trailed off as Tommy nodded. “Well, I haven’t seen him in nearly five years, so it’s hardly relevant.” He shrugged, stretching.

“And your brother. He- he liked those books, did he?” Ranboo inquired cautiously, tilting his head in a move not unlike a curious cat.

“Oh yeah, he loved ‘em.” Tommy laughed, sighing deeply. “He could recite whole sections of The Art of War, not to mention all the myths and poems he would tell me. He must’ve had at least half that book memorised, what with how he’d start quoting Ozymandias and My Last duch*ess at me every other day.”

Ranboo hummed, eyes still stuck on the books. “My co- Ah, my ex-coworker, Deimos, he could do something similar. He would always tell me about myths, and quoted bits of The Art of War at me whenever I wasn’t having a good day.”

“He sounds nice.” Tommy hummed, eyes closed.

“He is. So does your brother.” Ranboo picked up a different book, one of the books on Greek mythology that was in better condition.

“He was.”

Chapter 33: I'll Go To it Laughing

Chapter Text

“Oh come on Tubs, please! I won’t cause any trouble, I promise.” Tommy was hanging over the back of the sofa, pleading with Tubbo to let him go on patrol. It was Saturday evening, and he was getting restless after almost two weeks of being unable to do anything vigilante-related. Tommy wasn’t designed to sit around and not do anything, and the rising crime rates had him on edge.

“Please Tubbo. It’s f*ckin’- It’s chaos out there, and Porphyrion can’t keep it under control. He’s had to ask Tyche to help cover, and you know she’s usually busy up in 30’s! Even Midas has had to come down ‘n patrol, and they still can barely keep a cap on it. It was gettin’ worse before anyway, but now that Theseus is gone? It’s complete chaos!”

“I know! I know, okay?” Tubbo snapped back, throwing his arms up in frustration. “But if Dolos wasn’t out for blood before, he certainly will be now that you helped his protégé escape! And that’s not to mention that we have f*cking proof that Schlatt is hanging around nearby, I don’t want you getting hurt!” The volume of his voice only increased as he spoke, and his eyes shined with tears.

Tommy groaned, running a hand down his face. “Gods, Tubbo, I’ve been doin’ this sh*t longer than I’ve known you, I can handle myself. And if Dolos or f*ckin’ Schlatt get anywhere near me, the voices will warn me and I’ll get as far away as possible.”

“Oh,” Tubbo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well that’s alright then! How do you know that what happened on Thursday won’t just happen again? And neither of us will be there to help you!”

“It won’t happen again! It f*ckin’ won’t, I promise.” Letting himself fall from the sofa, Tommy hit the floor with a thud, righting himself before turning back to face his friend.

Tubbo’s voice was quiet when he next spoke, and he shook his head mournfully. “You can’t promise that, Tommy. It’s too dangerous.”

“Fine! f*cking fine then!” Tommy replied with a huff, folding his arms across his chest. Silence fell for a moment, Tubbo still fighting back tears as Tommy frowned, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, he spoke. “...What if Ranboo came with?”

“Wh- Huh?” Ranboo spluttered, sitting up properly. They’d been trying not to get involved, choosing instead to flick through one of the books he’d been looking at the previous day, but the sound of his name forced them to look over.

“No!” Tubbo cut in before Ranboo could even begin to speak, shaking his head vehemently. “No, Christ, that’s an even worse idea! That’s like- That’s like rubbing it in Dolos’ face! Do you even comprehend how dumb that is? That would just put you both in even more danger! And besides, you haven’t even asked Ranboo if they want to go out on patrol, he might want to put all this heroic bullsh*t behind them.”

The two arguing friends turned towards their roommate, who stared at them like a deer in the headlights.

“So? Do you wanna come help me?” Tommy prompted, looking at Ranboo with wide and pleading eyes. “Or do you want to tell Tommy how stupid it would be?” Tubbo broke in, rolling his eyes once more.

“I-” Hesitating, Ranboo gently placed the book down and glanced between the two. Tommy was bouncing his leg up and down, full of more energy than Ranboo could even begin to fathom, while Tubbo sat with his arms crossed and eyes full of worry. But Tommy… Tommy looked annoyed, sure, but he didn’t look defeated. If anything, he looked determined. That’s when it clicked.

“You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?” Ranboo studied his friend, not quite making eye contact but coming close. Tubbo whipped his head towards the blonde, a protest forming on his lips. Before he could say anything, however, Tommy answered. “Yeah, of course I am. I can’t just f*ckin’ sit here while everyone else struggles!”

Tubbo looked like he was about to argue, expression torn halfway between affection and anger, but Ranboo spoke before he could get a word in. “Sure. Fine. If Tommy’s going to do it anyway, then I might as well go with, right?” They addressed Tubbo, who shifted uneasily but reluctantly shook his head, relenting. “I… I guess, yeah. If you’re completely sure.”

Tommy, on the other hand, shot upright, grinning. “Oh that’s epic! Thank you so much, gods, that makes life so much easier! You’re sure you want to come?” He stared at Ranboo like an excited puppy, bouncing up and down where he sat. Ranboo hesitated. They could back out now, and be safe. Or… Well, it wasn’t really a question was it? “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. Just- I don’t think I want to be Aether anymore.”

Tubbo nodded in resignation, sighing. “Nothing I say is going to change either of your minds, is it?”

“Oh Tubzo, you know me so well!” Tommy giggled, stretching his arms and leaning backwards. Ranboo shrugged his shoulders, humming. “Better to make sure Tommy can’t cause too much chaos.” They chuckled anxiously, picking at the hem of his shirt. Tommy huffed at his friends' reasoning, but was grinning widely nonetheless. “So!” He clapped his hands excitedly. “Got any ideas for a different name?”

-0-

“Janus? It’s Roman, but being named after the god of choices and new beginnings kinda has some symbolism to it.”

“Ehh… No, I don’t think so.”

“How about Hermes?”

“Isn’t he the god of thieves and messengers? What’s the inspiration for that one?”

“Well yeah, but he’s also the god of travelling, which is funny because you can literally teleport and also because you’re travelling to a better life.”

“Also god of thieves because you stole my heart!” Tubbo interjected, smirking cheerfully at his two roommates where they were sitting – or laying, in Tommy’s case – on the floor. Ranboo was quick to join his winged friend, as he groaned and flopped backwards. “Tubbo, I told you we’re not getting married!”

Tubbo, finally rounding the corner properly with a bowl of tomato sauce in his hands, pouted, rolling his eyes. “Not even for tax benefits?” He whined, scrunching his face up in an unconvincing display of crocodile tears.

“No.” Ranboo deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. “You look constipated.”

Tubbo stuck his tongue out, flicking a blob of tomato sauce at Ranboo’s head before disappearing back into the kitchen. Naturally, Ranboo dodged the attack and it instead landed as a reddish splodge in Tommy’s lap, causing the blonde to jump backwards with a yelp and proceed to swear loudly.

Abandoning the mythology book he’d been flicking through, Tommy leapt up and darted into the bathroom to scrub furiously at his jeans.

“Tubbo I swear to f*cking gods if this stains I’m going to kill you!” He shouted, garnering twin laughs from the other boys.

A minute later, Tommy emerged from the bathroom with a new pair of trousers on, a matching playful glare plastered across his face. He grumbled as he sat down, flipping Ranboo off as the taller teen snorted.

“Well, just for the record you have my blessing.” Tommy snigg*red, recovering from the tomato sauce attack and batting Ranboo away when they shoved him. The enderian rolled his eyes, sighing as Tommy flipped the book back open, resuming his search.

“Huh. How about… Erebus?” Tommy smiled at the page, almost laughing at the contrast.

Ranboo hummed, frowning. “Oh, I don’t recognise that name. What’d they do?”

Tommy did laugh at that. “D’you know who Aether is?” He spoke between his giggles. Ranboo shrugged, humming once more. “Kind of. The sky, right?”

“The embodiment of light.” Tommy corrected, wide grin still evident on his face. “Erebus is the child of Chaos, embodiment of darkness. Also father of Aether, but that’s not really important.”

“Oh,” Ranboo said softly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I like that.”

“Yeah?” Tommy asked, smiling.

“Yeah.”

-0-

Bouncing across the rooftop on a cloud of pure light after two weeks of not leaving the house except for work was more exhilarating than Tommy could ever begin to describe. Beside him, Ranboo was sprinting across buildings, teleporting across gaps too large for even his lanky legs to clear. The two were speeding through district 43, occasionally stopping to prevent some petty theft or someone attempting to break into a car. Ranboo had yet to help, instead lurking in the shadows as Tommy exchanged snarky remarks with the would-be criminals, completely in his element.

They’d been running a few minutes now with no incident, so really it was only a matter of time before something happened.

And what happened was an unfamiliar shout breaking through the air. “Hey! Theseus, you really ought to come with me.” Tommy turned, Ranboo also pausing where they stood a few roofs away, and came face to face with a hero. Stupidly bright orange mask, a fox curled around his shoulders, the hero Alopex shifted on his feet. Well, ‘hero’ was a bit of an exaggeration. “Look, kid,”

Tommy almost laughed at that alone, the hero couldn’t be more than nineteen. Really, he was only an apprentice. He shouldn’t even have been on patrol without his mentor, Phobos, but due to the spike in crime Tommy supposed the heroes had been spread a little thin. Even less reason for the fox-boy to attempt to apprehend him.

“I know you think you’re doing good an’ all, but you’re really just being a pain. Come with-” Alopex cut himself off with a hiss, eyes drifting off to the side. “Aether?”

Ranboo had frozen where he stood, heterochromatic eyes blown wide in shock. Tommy had half a mind to step in, attempt to whisk Ranboo away before anything could go wrong, when Ranboo suddenly found their voice. “That’s not-” He coughed, their voice growing in strength. “That’s not my name anymore, Alopex.”

The hero shook his head, some mix of shock and betrayal clear in his voice when he next spoke. “What. What are you… Why are you with him? What the f*ck were you thinking? You’ve been missing for weeks! You f*cking- Dolos is so disappointed in you.” Alopex finally spat out, glare visible even through his mask. Ranboo recoiled, and Tommy moved forward, but the enderian wasn’t defeated. “I… I don’t care. Yeah. I don't care. Dolos was an awful mentor, and I have friends now. I’m happier.” They spoke defiantly, confidently, but still with a slight waver to his voice, as if trying to convince themself almost as much as the hero.

“You were so- You were so lucky! You had everything. You were being mentored under the Number Two hero, for goodness sake! Why would you throw that away, Aether?” Alopex seemed genuinely lost, hurt flashing across his face almost too fast for Tommy to catch. But Ranboo doubled down. “I’m not Aether. Not anymore. I’m Erebus, and you can tell that to the rest of them. Dolos was an- an abusive, manipulative, cruel, unforgiving mentor, and I’d rather be dead than back there. I’m happy now. Goodbye, Alopex. Don’t follow us, I’ve beaten you in training and I won’t hesitate to do so here as well."

Ranboo spoke in an uncharacteristically level voice, seeming to shock even themself if the look that flickered through their eyes was anything to go by. He also seemed to shock the hero, who gaped for a moment, glancing between the hero and vigilante – or, more accurately, the two vigilantes – with some impossible mix of hatred and longing. And then, suddenly, in a flurry of orange fabric, the hero turned tail and fled.

Tommy stared after him, watching intently until he disappeared behind a leaning apartment block. Where he stood, Ranboo let out a long-suffering sigh and sank inwards, running a hand through their hair. “Well f*ck.” Tommy stated simply, floating over to hover beside Ranboo. “That was… eventful.” Ranboo agreed, murmuring under their breath. “Yup” Tommy spoke, popping the p, and sighed. “D’you wanna head home? Or you good to keep going for a bit?”

Ranboo hummed, glancing around. “What’s the time?” They asked, shoving their hands in their pockets. Tommy tapped his glasses. “Uh- just gone ten.” He turned back to face Ranboo, who made a sound of surprise. “Already? Wow, I didn’t realise we’d already been out here three hours…” He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.

“Yeah.” Tommy nodded slowly, breaking the momentary silence.

“…Another half-hour?” Ranboo asked with a grin, already knowing the answer.

“f*ck yeah!” Tommy looked up with a smile clear in his voice, already leaping to his feet.

Chapter 34: I Might Have to be Ready For This

Chapter Text

Barely another ten minutes had passed when a piercing scream ripping through the cool night air.

It sounded scared. No, it sounded terrified. Immediately, both teens turned towards the sound. The road was dark, cramped, a tiny thing boxed in by towering buildings on both sides. Tommy squinted into the dark, and could just barely make out a cowering figure pressed up against one of the walls. They looked young, barely older than eight and certainly not old enough to be out on their own at this time of night.

Tommy paused for a moment, not seeing anything in the shape of a threat, before the shadows in front of the child shifted, and the silver glint of a blade made itself clear.

It was then that Tommy finally put two and two together. There was someone there, someone with a knife, and they were mugging… a child? Tommy knew that there were sh*tty people in the world, hell he himself had no shortage of interactions with the absolute worst of the worst, but trying to steal from a kid? That was a new low.

“Oi prick!” He yelled, making Ranboo jump as he landed in front of the masked figure hidden by the shadows. He got a better look at the child, which only concreted his prior assumption that they were young, even younger than Tommy had first thought. They had a shock of mid-length pink hair and a wicked scratch-like scar across their right eye. Their skin was pale, but tinted with an inhuman pinkish tone, with spirals of green veins running away from the presumably infected scar.

The person who had previously been shrouded in shadows made themselves clear, stepping forward with knife in hand to swipe at Tommy. “Woah! No need to get violent there buddy. Leave the kid alone, got it?”

The person didn’t listen, instead snarling and swinging the knife towards Tommy’s throat. Tommy leapt backwards, making sure to keep the kid behind him, and pulled a stick of light into his hand. The person stopped moving for a moment, seemingly stunned. Then, much to Tommy’s surprise, they spoke.

“Theseus.” They spoke with an audible smile in their voice, seemingly ecstatic at having run into the vigilante. That confused Tommy more than he’d like to admit, it wasn’t often that a criminal was pleased to see him. Quite the opposite, actually. “Oh, he was right. You know, I didn’t believe him at first. But of course, he was right.” They rambled, waving their arms about as Tommy stood there.

Shaking himself out of his confusion, Tommy leapt forward with his light-stick, intent on planting it right into the stranger's shoulder. They dodged, unnaturally agile, and hissed in a strangely cat-like way before attempting to dig the knife deep into Tommy’s stomach. Ranboo screeched, inhuman and fearful, and teleported down to pull Tommy away from the blade. It scraped into his abdomen, drawing a thin line of blood, but Tommy barely noticed.

A string of hot light curled around the stranger's wrist, burning, and they jumped backwards with a yelp. They threw one final, piercing glare at the child still hiding behind Tommy, before turning to the blonde and grinning maniacally. “Oh, we’ll be seeing you soon Theseus.”

Before Tommy could even start to question what that meant – which, geez, creepy much? –, the figure vanished round the corner with terrifying speed. Tommy very nearly took off after them, and likely would’ve if not for the sniffling whimpers of the scared child behind him. But before he could try and comfort the crying kid, another voice broke in. “Hey,” Ranboo whispered, crouching down in front of the child with a concerned smile on his face. “What’re you doing out so late? Do you know where your parents are?”

The child's eyes widened in shock and they shook their head. Then, their hands started moving. Tommy registered it as sign, but couldn’t get much more than that as he’d never had the opportunity to learn. But Ranboo, apparently, had, and furrowed their brow in concentration as they watched.

A-E-T-H-E-R?

The child spelt, co*cking their head to the side in a display of curiosity. Ranboo nodded with a smile. “Oh! Are you deaf?”

They signed the words as they spoke them, stumbling slightly over some of the words. He hadn’t practised sign in a while, and it was easier to read it than it was to use it. But the kid shook their head again, humming.

Name – you – A-E-T-H-E-R?

Looking slightly confused, Ranboo mumbled under his breath but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah. I don’t use that name now, though. I’m Erebus now.” He chuckled quietly, and the child frowned.

B-U-S?

Ranboo almost choked, still confused, and laughed once more. “No, not quite, but sure. What’s your name?”

Name – me – M-I-C-4

Frowning, Ranboo shook their head. “Sorry, could you do that again? I didn’t quite get that.” The child nodded, still smiling, and spelt it out again.

Name – me – M-I-C-4

That didn’t seem to make it any clearer, and Ranboo hummed in confusion. “Your name is MIC4? Are you sure that’s what you meant?” He asked, but the kid just nodded happily. Beside him, Tommy, who had been watching the whole exchange with a slightly bemused expression on his face, suddenly went still as a statue. “What.” He breathed out, fear and anger laced through his voice in equal parts. The child, MIC4, turned to him with a startled smile.

“Ran- uh, Erebus, ask them where they come from.” Tommy asked, somewhat frantic. “They can hear you fine.” Ranboo replied, nodding towards the child, who was already giving an answer. Ranboo was almost convinced he’d misread, as the answer didn’t make any more sense than the kids name, but they seemed certain. “Well? What’d they say?” Tommy demanded impatiently, shaking slightly in what was either cold or apprehension.

“Um. Do you mind signing that again? Sorry, I’m just not sure I saw right.” Ranboo turned his attention back to the child, confident in their signing ability but still needing clarification at the strange answer. But no, the answer remained the same. Ranboo read out the words as the child signed them, still as lost as the first time he read them.

T-H-E – P-I-T

“Th- The Pit” Ranboo read out incredulously, and MIC4 nodded, the smile falling from their face. Tommy made a strange, strangled sound, and Ranboo turned back to their friend to see, shockingly, his face. Unmasked. Uncovered. In the middle of a random street. “Theseus what’re you-” They started, cutting themself off with a gasp as he noticed what seemed to be tear tracks on Tommy’s face.

“How- Where- Oh. Oh gods. Are there others?” Tommy whispered, reaching out to the child before suddenly seeming to reconsider. MIC4 began signing something, and Ranboo turned his attention back to the child just in time to catch what they were saying.

Yes.

They paused, frowning for a moment.

M-A-N-Y – not – out. – D-E-A-D – also.

Ranboo, who had been translating, stuttered on the final two words. “Sorry- Dead? Who’s dead?”

MIC4 made a few nonsensical gestures, which Ranboo thought translated roughly to ‘end - go’, and that he assumed was a sign for someone's name. The child huffed when Ranboo just stared blankly, and began fingerspelling.

E-D-W-3

Ranboo… Ranboo really wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was EDW3 another kid? Was that their real name? Who in their right mind would name someone that? Did Tommy know something about this? Something about this ‘Pit’ the child – Ranboo felt incredibly awkward referring to them as that, but it wasn’t as if MIC4 was much better – had mentioned? As if to confirm his query, Ranboo glanced over at his friend. Tommy seemed almost unchanged, eyes still glassy with tears and hands still shaking fevererently as he mumbled. His words were audible, but made little sense to Ranboo. “They- He didn’t… He got through another alphabet. He f*cking- Gods.” The boy mumbled, over and over with little sign of stopping.

“Tom-” Ranboo hesitated for a moment, glancing at the kid quickly before deciding that they’d already seen his face, what more harm could it do? “Tommy? Do you…” They trailed off. Do you… what? Know what's happening? Was that even a question? It was clear Tommy knew this situation, and it didn’t dredge up happy memories if his expression was as telling as it seemed. Instead, Ranboo focused back on the child. That was something he could handle.

They crouched down in front of MIC4, frowning. “Okay, do you, uh, want to go home?” Then, pausing for a moment, they reconsidered. The kid didn’t look as if they’d bathed in… Well, forever, really. They were far too thin for it to be healthy, and if Ranboo looked too close he would’ve sworn that there was blood splattered across their overalls. “...Do you have a home to go to?”

H-O-M-E?

The kid signed with a confused frown, as if unsure of the words meaning. And skies, that notion made Ranboo’s heart break a little. “Okay, well, I’ll take that as a no then.” They mumbled, tapping their fingers together rhythmically.

Then, unexpectedly and much to Ranboo’s surprise, Tommy broke in. He lowered himself to the floor, staring at MIC4 with a look that Ranboo couldn’t quite define. When he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically soft. “Hey. I’m Tommy.”

T-H-E-S-E-U-S?

Ranboo translated hurriedly, looking at Tommy with wide, shocked eyes.

“Y- yeah, Theseus too.” Tommy sniffled. “I’m. I also used to be someone else. I’m from The Pit too.”

You – from – where?

Ranboo was becoming more confused by the second, but still he spoke for the child.

“Mhm.” Tommy made a sound of affirmation. “I’m from The Pit too. I’m- I was called TO3.”

That was news for Ranboo, who whipped their head around to face Tommy in shock. Tommy didn’t look up, however, eyes still focused on MIC4. The young child's eyes had widened impossibly further, and they started signing almost too fast for Ranboo to keep up.

S-N-3 – T-O-3 – friendship? – Same?

Struggling and slightly uncertain he’d translated it right, Ranboo repeated what he saw. While it meant little to him, Tommy seemed to understand perfectly. He reeled back with a gasp, and Ranboo jumped at the sudden change.

“Sniff? Sniff’s alive?” Tommy’s voice cracked, the tears he’d been barely restraining now finally pouring down his cheeks. MIC4 stared ruefully at the blonde teen and lowered their head.

D-E-A-D

“...Dead.” Ranboo whispered, horrified. Tommy’s next words were barely audible, a breath of grief, and he sunk fully to the floor. “O- oh.”

The child fidgeted for a moment looking at Tommy with a mix of worry and sorrow, before turning back to Ranboo with determination mixed in with their concern.

Name – get – how?

“They, uh, want to know how you got your name.” Ranboo translated, curiosity clear in their own eyes as well as MIC4’s. Tommy rubbed furiously at his eyes and straightened up. He gave a watery smile and a shuddering breath before he spoke.

“I- I chose it. Well, my brother and I chose it. TO3. You see the T and O? Those are the first two letters of my name. Then I added three more, 'cause of the three in TO3. Tommy. I can- I can make you one, if you want?”

The kid nodded vigorously, their answer obvious enough that Ranboo didn’t need to say anything.

“Okay. How about we do it the same way? MIC4… Hm. M, I, C, and another four letters. Erebus, you got any ideas?” Tommy glanced over to Ranboo, poorly disguised desperation peeking out from the edges of his tense smile.

“Um- Yeah, okay. How about m… uh, mi-” Ranboo stumbled for a moment, racking his mind for any ideas. “Michael! How about Michael?”

The child hummed, nodding hesitantly.

M-I-C-

They stopped abruptly, staring at their hands.

How – S-P-E-L-L?

“Oh! M, I, C, H, A, E, L.” Ranboo signed the letters as they spoke them, and the child – Michael, as they’d just now been dubbed – copied.

M-I-C-H-A-E-L. – M-I-C-H-A-E-L!

“Yeah! Michael. There you go. Now, Michael, do you have anywhere, anywhere at all, to go? A trusted adult, or somewhere familiar we can drop you off?” Ranboo asked, crouching back in front of the pinkette as they had been before they moved. Michael shook their head violently, backing away slightly, and Ranboo held his hands up in what they hoped was a placating gesture. “Okay! Okay, nowhere to go. That's fine. That's fine. There’s a homeless shelter up in… 26, I think is the closest one, we can-”

“No!” Tommy’s unexpected shout rang out across the street, causing Ranboo to jump and turn to his friend in surprise. Michael, too, looked across, and Tommy glanced between the kid and his friend with an almost animalistic terror in his expression. “No. We’re not. We’re not leaving Michael.”

Ranboo stared at Tommy in disbelief, shifting out of the way as the teen moved closer and spoke to Michael in a hushed but urgent tone. “Michael, that- that dude who was being mean to you, did Sch- did The Pit send them?”

Michael nodded vigorously, glancing around the street in fear, as if expecting a masked figure to jump from the shadows.

Tommy held out his arms, and Michael hesitated only a second before moving forwards. Scooping them up in his arms, Tommy lifted the child with ease. They were light, too light, but that was to be expected, given the circ*mstances. Being fed was something of a luxury in The Pit. “C’mon.” He turned to Ranboo, who had straightened up and was now watching the interaction with a bemused look on their face. “Sorry, are we just… bringing a child home with us? Should we not, I don’t know, warn Tubbo first or something?”

“Nah,” Tommy shrugged, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. “He’ll be fine, he was last time.”

Ranboo scrunched up his face at that, looking for all the world like a disgruntled cat. “When has Tubbo ever been fine with you picking up random kids off the street?”

“Well, I did it with you didn’t I? And that went fine!” Waving a hand around in a dismissing gesture, Tommy held Michael tightly. The child had begun sucking their thumb, watching the exchange with wide and slightly amused eyes.

“Wh- I am not a random kid you picked up off the street! I’m older than you! And anyway, Tubbo was nowhere even close to fine with that!”

“Eh, normal Tubbo behaviour. He’ll be fine with it.” Tommy rolled his eyes, grinning. Ranboo let out a flabbergasted gasp, somehow looking even more cat-like than before.

“Tommy, he tried to stab me-”

“See? Normal Tubbo behaviour!”

“-with a screwdriver!”

Chapter 35: I See Things That Nobody Else Sees

Chapter Text

“Tommy. What, in the name of the skies, is that?”

Okay- So, Tubbo, turns out, was really not all that fine with it. He hadn’t pulled out a screwdriver yet though, and Tommy would take the small victories where he could get them. “Well, funny story actually-”

“No,” Tubbo groaned, flopping down into his desk chair. “No, I don’t think I even want to know.” He paused, closing his eyes and running a hand down his face. Then, he sat back up. “No, actually, f*ck that. I do want to know. Where the ever-loving f*ck did you get a child?”

“They’re from The Pit.” Tommy was quick to reply, and a look of understanding passed between him and his oldest friend.

Tubbo… Tubbo by no means knew everything about Tommy’s past. Actually, he knew very little. But one thing he did know was the name of the place Tommy grew up, as well as who ran The Pit. He wasn’t quite aware of the full extent of exactly what The Pit did, but the dark look that fell over Tommy’s face whenever he spoke of it, alongside the copious number of scars his friend had, gave him a good idea.

“Oh.”

Tubbo paused. He sighed. He leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. “What’s their name?” He muttered after a minute of uneasy silence, in which Tommy was grinning like the Cheshire Cat with a half-asleep Michael still in his arms and Ranboo shifted nervously where they stood.

“Michael.” Tommy said with a smug and strangely loving tone.

“Oh. That’s… That’s a nice name.” Mumbling, Tubbo buried his head in his hands. “They’re staying, I presume?”

Tommy let out an affronted huff, hitching Michael further in his arms and swinging himself down onto the sofa. Ranboo gingerly followed, perching on the edge of the couch with tense shoulders. “Sorry- Sorry, I feel like I’m kind of missing something here. The Pit. That’s… Where you grew up, I’m guessing?” Ranboo directed the question at Tommy before turning to Tubbo. “And what, the ‘Schlatt’ guy you were on about the other day runs it?” They looked between the boys with confusion etched across their face.

Silence fell. A minute passed, then two. Finally, Tommy snorted in laughter, careful not to shift too much for fear of waking Michael. “Gods. You’re very deductive, Ran. Yeah, pretty much got it in one.” He nodded, still laughing. The answer still didn’t seem to satisfy the enderian, however, and he looked to Tubbo for more in-depth answers. Tubbo just shrugged. “I mean, if you want sh*t on Tommy then I know about as much as you. At least, what I’ve heard from him is pretty similar. But, I can give you some more on Schlatt. Remember that conversation we had on the train? We were talking about Sch- Him, and then I went to say something but cut myself off?” Tubbo looked to Ranboo for confirmation, and the teen nodded in answer. “Well, Schlatt was – is – my dad.”

The ram-boy let the words linger for a moment, before Tommy laughed humourlessly and broke in. “Pretty sh*t at it though.” He muttered, and Tubbo giggled alongside him. “Yeah. Solid 0/10 on the whole ‘loving supportive parent’ bit.”

“Surprisingly good at making kids fight to the death though.” Tommy commented musingly, causing Ranboo to choke on air. “I- excuse me?”

“Oh yeah, his hidden talent. Kidnapping – I think, at least – kids and making them fight to the death for ‘the glory of the pit’! Fond memories.” Tommy joked wryly. “Skies. Not to say I don’t believe you, but geez that escalated.” Ranboo spoke, some combination of shock and disgust colouring his voice, an undertone of laughter they weren’t sure they were allowed to vocalise also hiding there. “Also not to say the child abuse is any less bad or anything-” They added on swiftly, glancing at Tubbo, who chuckled quietly. “Nah, you’re all good bossman. Either way, he was a right prick.”

“Understatement of the f*cking century there Tubs.” Tommy added bitterly, relaxing back onto the sofa and adjusting Michael so they rested on his chest. They sat in silence for a minute. Or maybe an hour. Time moved strangely in the way it so often did in a roomful of drained, emotionally exhausted teenagers. Eventually, Tommy proposed an idea.

“So. Who wants to spill their trauma first? Might be a nice bedtime story, y’know.” He giggled, waving his arm around in the air before letting it flop onto his face. Where he sat, Tubbo yawned and pushed himself upwards. “I’ll go.”

-0-

Tubbo’s fifth birthday is the first that he remembers, and the first that is forgotten. He only realises that when his mama apologises to him two days later with pain – although he didn’t know it at the time – in her eyes. He tells her it’s okay, and asks where his papa is. She tells him that his papa is away, and that it’s not as if they need him anyway. They can have fun without Tubbo’s papa. She buys him a cupcake.

Tubbo is six when his mama leaves. Or seven, he’s not sure. His papa doesn’t seem to have noticed (or cared) , but Tubbo did. One day, his mama stops tucking him into bed each night and giving him whispered warnings of… something, Tubbo is often too sleepy to remember what. But that’s okay, because he’s a big boy and can put himself to bed.

He doesn’t sleep much that night.

He rarely sees his mama during the day. She’s… well, he’s not quite sure where. But she’s somewhere, doing something important. She’s always at dinner, though. She isn’t at dinner that next evening. His mama doesn’t put him to bed that night either.

Tubbo is ten – or is he eight? Or perhaps eleven? It’s hard to keep track of the years when your father doesn’t celebrate your birthday – when he realises he can’t remember his mothers face. Or her voice. Sometimes, if he shuts his eyes really really tight and buries his face in his pillow, he thinks he catches a quick whiff of a familiar forest-like perfume or spots a pale dress disappearing round a corner, a few slithers of curly, waist-length brown hair whipping away from him, a pair of deep green eyes looking down at him lovingly. But that might just be his imagination.

Tubbo doesn’t remember what age he is when he decides he hates his father. Probably not very old. It might be the waft of overpowering alcohol that seems to always be hovering. It might be the fact that Tubbo is one hundred percent certain that the egotistical man had something to do with his mothers disappearance. It might be that the only time his father bothers to pay attention to him is to berate him.

Or it might be a mix of all of those, and more.

All Tubbo knows is that he is very glad that his father is away on business more than he’s at home. It means Tubbo has the house to himself, and can walk around to his heart's content without being afraid of the creaky floorboards, or fiddle with whatever bits of wire he can get his hands on without having to worry about anyone catching him.

Tubbo is good at maths. And science. And coding. And forgery. And the piano, something he taught himself out of sheer boredom when he was twelve, or thereabouts. Really, he has a pretty diverse skill set. One thing he isn’t particularly good at, however, is baking. Even after years of cooking meals for himself, he hasn’t got past basic pastas and soups, maybe something a little more advanced if he was feeling daring. Baking he rarely attempted.

So he’s not entirely sure why he finds himself standing outside a bakery at the ripe age of fourteen, about to go in and plead with the owner – Eret, if he remembered right – to give him a job. He is tapping his foot anxiously, clutching a semi-legal resume in his hands and being as careful as he can not to rip the paper.

Miraculously, he gets the job. Or, more accurately, he and Eret’s current assistant immediately get into a heated debate about the validity of rabbits as a species and Eret takes one look at him and adopts him on the spot. But either way, he has a job and a steady income. And somewhere to spend his weekdays. And, miraculously, some friends.

-0-

“Huh,” Tubbo spoke through a yawn, pressing a hand over his mouth. “Guess reliving your vaguely traumatising childhood can make a guy kind of tired. Who would’ve guessed.” He paused, cracking his knuckles and turning to the other two teenagers. “Okay, I’ve said my bit. Which one of you is going next?”

“Wow. I didn’t think it was possible for me to want to punch Schlatt even more , but that’s proven me wrong.” Tommy huffed, frowning. Ranboo nodded in agreement, humming. Then, they hesitated before continuing.

“I can, um, say something, if we’re all opening up tonight.” Ranboo muttered, earning a chuckle from Tubbo and a cheer from Tommy.

“Yeah! Go on Ran, let's hear your sh*t!” The blonde called in a whisper-shout, still doing his best not to wake the toddler now firmly asleep on his chest.

“Alright, give me a sec.”

-0-

Ranboo remembered very little from his time before Dream. It must’ve existed, and if he thought too hard they could just about picture a small, cold, bleak room somewhere. Some tall figures, feeling very ill. Bright lights, being restrained. But anything more than that was a hazy blur. And then… and then… And then there’s Dream. Talking to him. Sitting with them in the small room. Taking them outside. Outside?

Birthdays are strange. Or at least, Ranboo thinks so. Dream says his birthday is November 2nd, and that’s the date it says on the file he shows them, but Ranboo still doesn’t get it. Dream says they’re turning thirteen. Ranboo doesn’t really care, they don’t feel any different than they did yesterday, but Dream says that thirteen means he’s meant to be more responsible now. And if Dream says that then it’s almost certainly true.

Dream is like Ranboo’s older brother. Ranboo thinks this, at least. Dream thinks so too, and smiles widely whenever Ranboo refers to him as such. Brothers, that’s what Dream says they are. Ranboo is Dream’s baby brother. Every time Ranboo calls Dream his brother, he preens at the loving grin and fond hair-ruffle that Dream offers in return.

Brothers.

Ranboo turns fourteen, and suddenly he’s no longer allowed to call Dream by his name. Now he’s either Dolos or Sir. Dream says that, legally, Ranboo is his employee. Ranboo doesn’t know what that means, but Dr- Dolos seems happy about it, and Ranboo doesn’t want to upset him by voicing their confusion. And then Dolos says that it means that Ranboo can come out on patrol with him, and that makes all of Ranboo’s doubts wash away. That meant he could make Dolos proud, like they’d been taught to. That meant they were finally useful.

Ranboo still thinks that Dre- Dolos is his brother. He must be, Dolos has always been there for him. Always. They’re brothers, just as Dolos had always said. Brothers. The word makes Ranboo happy, and it used to make Dolos happy. Used to. It doesn’t anymore, and he starts shouting when Ranboo brings up the comparison. Ranboo doesn’t like when Dolos gets angry. Dolos shouts and throws things and hits the wall.

Sometimes he hits more than the wall.

But then Ranboo hides in his room, and later on Dolos will come and apologise and explain how it was really Ranboo in the wrong, and how they’ll never be able to become a real, proper hero and make Dolos proud if they run away at some harmless irritation. Because that’s all it is. Harmless irritation. And Ranboo knows that, and they berate themself for thinking otherwise.

Ranboo… Ranboo doesn’t really like patrol. He doesn’t really like the harsh way Dolos’ voice sounds, yelling at them over the wind with the unfamiliar electric buzz of the voice changer to make it even less recognisable.

Ranboo doesn't really like the dark either. He doesn’t like a lot of things, like the way the tap sounds when it’s running, or the way Dolos’ hand grips his shoulder painfully tight, or the way the seams of his clothes sit on their skin, or the way Dolos’ friends laugh so loudly whenever they come over, or the way the particles sometimes get anxious or excited about something and spill over uncontrollably, causing him to curl up on the floor and hum to themself until it stops. Dolos doesn’t like that last one very much either, although sometimes Ranboo thinks that Dolos just doesn’t like him very much.

Dolos cares. Ranboo has to tell themself that constantly. Dolos cares. He does. He missed Ranboo’s fifteenth birthday because he was busy with work, and really it was selfish for Ranboo to want his attention when he could be using that time to save a kid from being crushed under a bus or something. Dolos cares. He gets angry and shouts and hits but that’s because he just wants Ranboo to be better, and how can they ever be better if they don’t learn? He just wants Ranboo to be good and be helpful. Dolos cares. He snaps at them more than he used to because he’s under stress, after all who wouldn’t be if they were the Number Two Hero in all of the SMP? It doesn’t matter that the kind, laughing, brother-like figure (never brother, never really) that Ranboo used to know was gone. Dolos cares.

Theseus. Patrol is more fun with Theseus. Ranboo has never had a good memory, especially not for names, but they think he can remember that one. Despite getting off on perhaps the wrong foot, Ranboo thinks their initial idea of Theseus might’ve been a little… harsh. Surely not every vigilante was as bad as Dolos said, right? Maybe Theseus was the exception. He was a good vigilante.

Ranboo had royally screwed up. He was disoriented, the last thing they remembered was getting back to the tower (not home, not for a while), exhilarated after finally meeting Theseus’ roommate, only to find… Something. Their memory was blurry. Dolos was angry . Angrier than Ranboo had ever seen him. Terrifyingly angry. Then- then Hybris was there? Hybris was nice. Or, no, Hybris was one of Dolos’ friends. Was he? Was Ranboo even there?

And then no, they weren’t. Ranboo was instead teleporting away, AWAY, AWAY , away from what? They weren’t quite sure. And then- and then Theseus. More Theseus. Theseus was a good vigilante. And then Ranboo felt the same wide-eyed excitement he had over four years ago, as Dream led him away from the Lab (the lab? What lab?).

And then Ranboo had a life.

-0-

Ranboo was crying. They were glad to have changed out of their enderian form, else the tears would’ve burned his cheeks. As it was, they just stung lightly as they rolled down. He sniffed, rubbing at their eyes. “Dolos.” Tubbo proclaimed loudly, “Is a rat-faced bastard.”

Tommy shushed the brunette, gesturing to Michael, but he grinned as he did. “f*ck yeah he is! Ranboo, I promise you that if you ever want to get revenge on that bellend then I will do everything in my power to help. And you can get the final blow, of course.”

Chuckling wetly, Ranboo smiled. “Gee, I feel so comforted by that notion.” They deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m ignoring that. Anyway! It’s my go, I suppose.”

-0-

TO3 was young when he was placed in the cage with his brother. A tall man, shrouded in darkness but draped in a blood-red cape, delivered him. His brother said that if he was eight at the time, then TO3 must’ve been four. TO3 had no clue how he worked that out, but apparently it was Bad who told him. TO3 didn’t remember Bad. And he thought Bad had a bad taste in name. Who named themself ‘Bad’? His brother was talking about finding a name, and TO3 was certain it would be miles better than ‘Bad’.

His brother likes teaching. He says so, even when Tommy fidgets and can’t pay attention. He’s learning, though. Learning to look at the little words in the big book and sound them out, and then his brother explains them and uses them in a sentence. Tommy’s favourite word so far is ‘ascend’ because it sounds funny.

His brother also likes telling him stories. He wants to ask for a new mythology book the next time he’s allowed, because he’s almost finished reading this one for the fourth time. His brother likes the one about Orpheus and Eurydice. Tommy prefers the story of Icarus.

It’s during one of his teaching lessons that they get their names. Tommy is six, and asks why they don’t have any, and his brother decides that they should change that. They spend hours sprawled on the floor, giggling like children and testing out names. They go for Greek ones at first, but it’s too hard to decide. Does Tommy want to be Icarus? Not really, his story is far too sad. Theseus also shares a similar fate, plunging into the sea. Orpheus, one of his brother's choices, has an even worse fate. The story of Heracles doesn’t exactly have a happy ending either. The only hero they can think of who has a nice ending is Perseus, and they can’t both be Perseus.

Then, they think about the Gods. His brother suggests Apollo, because of Tommy’s bright golden hair. Tommy suggests Phobos, because his brother instils fear in anyone who faces him, but his brother shoots it down quickly. Then they laugh about being called Apollo and Aretmis, because if Tommy is like the sun then his brother is inarguably like the moon. And he’s better at fighting.

In the end, they scrap the mythology idea and instead think about it logically. His brother is, of course, the one to come up with the system. TO and TE. 3 and 9. Tommy and Technoblade.

Tommy is fairly certain he’s still six the first time that his brother returns injured. It’s a memory that sticks out. Of course, he’d returned bloodied before. Returned with scratches. But the blood was never his own, and the scratches barely grazed the first few layers of skin. He wasn’t called ‘The Blade’ for nothing after all, and there was a reason he always drew the highest bets.

That was also why he always got the most luxuries, blankets and extra food and even books, which he always shared with Tommy. His brother was just amazing like that.

This time, though, Technoblade returned with a deep slash running down his right arm. It was leaking blood at an alarming rate, and they had to sacrifice a perfectly good blanket to stop it. It still went an unhealthy, greenish colour despite their best efforts. In the end, the man in the suit gave them medicine to help. Tommy thought that was very nice of him, but Technoblade just scoffed. He didn’t want his best soldier dying, did he?

Seven was old, his brother assured him with a tired look in his eyes. Tommy might even have said he looked angry. Not at Tommy though, never at Tommy. Seven was old, he said, but not old enough for Tommy to properly join The Pit. He tried telling the Ram-Man this, but he didn’t care.

And it didn’t matter. Tommy won his first fight. And his second, and third, and fourth, and his fifth, and his si- and his- and-

But that doesn’t mean he returns unharmed. The first time he gets a serious injury, it’s a deep cut spanning the length of his middle finger. It’s horribly deep, and Tommy is convinced he can see the tendons jumping within, but, miraculously, it heals with nothing but a badass scar to remind him of the incident.

Tommy wasn’t sure he liked winning his fights. He had to, of course, because otherwise he’d be the one left unmoving on the ground and spilling red from holes that hadn’t existed a half-hour ago, and his brother would be alone. He couldn’t leave Technoblade alone. Still, Tommy couldn’t help feeling bad for all the other people who would be left alone because of his selfishness.

Tommy is eleven when he discovers what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that loneliness. His brother promises to return for him, to get help. Tommy is gone before he can find out if Technoblade kept his word. By some godly miracle, he keeps the books. The blankets are gone, lost, but the books stayed by his side. How, Tommy wasn’t entirely sure.

It isn’t long before Tommy gets a new cellmate in this new place. His name is FR5. Tommy finds him a new name. Freddie. Tommy thinks he’s… nice. It’s hard to be friends with people when they’re inevitably going to die, and Tommy is still holding out hope that Techno will return soon. He doesn’t, and Freddie is surprisingly easy to befriend.

Tommy’s quick to become attached to him. Freddie is slightly less than a year older than him, and wildly funny. Almost alarmingly so, as Tommy would come to find. Brazenly disrespectful towards the Ram Man, swearing and spitting at him whenever he passed their cage. Scoffing at the threats of death that were thrown at him for his disrespect, and confident – justifiably, given his record – in his ability to win. Pirithous, Tommy jokes. Well, it’s more of a warning than a joke, especially in retrospect.

Freddie stays for just under a month.

Tommy doesn’t know the name – the number – of the person who finally got him. He doesn’t really care. Freddie is dead, that’s all that matters. Tommy marks down his name, right beside his brother’s, in the back of one of his books. Tommy is determined that he won’t be forgotten.

Tommy’s second roommate lasts longer, over eight months. They’re almost Techno’s age, and don't speak much. When Tommy asks, he discovers they already have a name. He isn’t sure how they choose, as it doesn’t seem to have any relation to their number. But Tommy doesn’t care. Aimsey is a nice name.

They’re an enderian, which Tommy thinks is fascinating. They seem equally interested in his wings as he is in their tail, and most of their time together is spent in silence, Aimsey preening his wings with their kind hands, and Tommy brushing their tail with his clumsy ones.

The evenings are much less peaceful, and more often than not Aimsey will wake him with their nightmarish screams. Tommy doesn’t know what, exactly, they’re calling for, but Tommy can guess. After all, there is a reason they ended up in the same cell. Tommy does his best to comfort them, brushing through their tail and letting them ramble on about ‘their Guqqie’. They do the same, calming Tommy and preening his wings, whenever he wakes up choking on imaginary dust and screaming for his brother to come back. It’s nice.

Aimsey reminds him a lot of the story of Pyramus and Thisbe. He’s not quite sure why, but Pyramus quickly became his nickname for them. He even told Aimsey his brother's old nickname for him, one of the few that stuck. Theseus. They didn’t really get it at first, but Tommy lets them read some of his books to help.

Aimsey fails to return just three days after Tommy turns twelve. They had celebrated Aimseys birthday four months earlier, they’d been turning sixteen.

Now, Tommy supposed, they would never turn seventeen.

It takes almost a week for him to finally accept that fact and etch their name into the back of his book. He cries while he does.

The next person forced to share a space with him only lived for about a fortnight. He’s horrifyingly young, horrifyingly small, with snow-white icy hair and mismatched eyes. He barely spoke at all, barely moved. The only thing Tommy saw him eat during his two week stay was pots of yogurt, which seemed to be all that Schlatt gave him. Tommy offered some of his own stale bread, but the child rejected it. Tommy wasn’t expecting him to last long, which made it all the more heart-breaking to be proven right.

It was only after, when he prepared to carve the kids name into his book, did he realise that the poor child never got one. Tommy was trying to break the ice slowly, and didn’t account for him leaving so soon.

It took a while, some debating as to whether or not to give the child a name without his knowledge, but eventually Tommy decided he would. He was indecisive, at first. Pheres was his initial idea, but in the end he scrapped it for a better one.

Tommy named him Yogurt.

His fourth cellmate lasted the longest, almost a full eleven months. They reminded him, inexplicably, of the story of Ariadne. He even, tentatively, began opening his mind to escaping with her. They were a fighter, and a good one at that. They were SN3. They were Sniff. She fell right in between Tommy’s age and Techno’s, two years older than him and two years younger than his brother. Sniff was impossibly happy, always. Tommy would swear right to the end that he never saw her frown. He saw them cry, yes, but even that was done with a rueful smile on her face.

Tommy abandoned her.

Well, not quite. They ran together, at first. Sniff was kind, but also cunning. Tommy was loud and protective. Together, they were chaos incarnate. They made their escape one cold day, about a month after Sniff’s birthday and a month before Tommy’s. Like a balancing act, always. They made it a long way undisturbed, a feat that Tommy still didn’t quite understand. But it didn’t last. Tommy tried to convince Sniff to run, to leave. They could make it, he lied to himself, if they just ran fast enough.

Sniff was smarter, always. She knew it wouldn’t work. She pushed Tommy away, and he could still see the tearful but determined grin on their face as she turned back. Tommy saw, just for a second, as they produced a knife that he hadn’t even been aware she swiped, and jumped head first into battle with the three people chasing them.

Tommy screamed his throat raw, but still he ran. He couldn’t waste her parting gift. It was hard, carrying four books in his arms, but he was quick. Almost not quick enough, and he finally unfurled his wings and flew in those final, blissful seconds. The sun was blinding, and as Tommy crashed to the floor he wondered if this was how Daedalus felt as he flew away from the mangled corpse of his son.

Chapter 36: We Accept The Love We Think We Deserve

Chapter Text

Tommy found himself to be crying. He barely even registered the tears, instead reaching down to absentmindedly brush Michael's hair away from their face. He wondered vaguely how old the child was. He'd have to ask.

“Tommy? You okay there bossman?” Tubbo called over tentatively. Tommy met his friend's eyes, and through the tears he could just about make out Tubbo’s worried expression. He nodded distantly, and heard a hum that he soon realised was coming from himself. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Sorry.”

Ranboo laughed, but it wasn't their usual, friendly laugh. Rather, it held an almost furious undertone. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

Tubbo nodded vehemently, curly hair bobbing up and down comically. It didn't match his expression, nor the serious tone of the conversation. Tommy almost laughed. Almost. Instead, he just sighed, bone-deep and weary, and leant backwards so his head flopped over the back of the sofa.

Time trickled slowly by, each minute seeming more sluggish than the last, and Tommy couldn't say if it had been five minutes or five hours when the silence was finally interrupted. It was Ranboo’s voice that finally cut through the air, heavy but not without its usual anxious air. “Well.” He clapped lightly, and Tubbo jolted upwards from where he'd been half-asleep at the desk. “It's obscenely late, and we should probably attempt to sleep at the very least. And we should sort out somewhere for Michael to sleep.”

Tommy agreed, and pushed himself onto his feet with Michael still clutched to his chest. “Yeah. Right, let's get the little guy to bed and then…” Tubbo broke in, finally having woken properly. “Dibs not the one to explain this sh*t to Eret tomorrow!” He called, chuckling under his breath. Tommy frowned, placing a hand protectively over Michael as Ranboo shrugged their shoulders.

“Do we really… I mean, I know you two trust Eret, of course, they're lovely, but, y'know, we don't really have to tell xem anything, right? Cause, well, I don't really have a job there, right, so Michael can just… stay here. With me.” Ranboo rambled, twisting their fingers together in a way that couldn't be comfortable. The two other teenagers stared at him for a moment, before Tubbo hummed thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I think that's fine as long as you don't mind. Tommy?”

Tommy, who had been preoccupied staring at the window, startled and refocused his attention on his roommates. Immediately, he started pouting. “Awh, why can't I stay home with Michael!” He whined as the other two laughed, Tubbo rolling his eyes good-naturedly as Tommy continued. “Ranboo can go to work instead!”

“Tom, Ranboo doesn't have a job. Eret might be a bit confused if they showed up tomorrow in your place.” Tubbo snorted. He stretched and rose to his feet, yawning.

“But I wanna be here with Michael!” Tommy bemoaned dramatically, hitching the child up on his hip as he did.

LMAO FATHER TOMMY

ADOPTION ARC ADOPTION ARC!

tmmyHeart

awww

FATHERINNIT

I love them 😭

Tubbo grinned sleepily and reached up on his tiptoes to ruffle his friend's hair. “Give it a few days and maybe we can bring it up with Eret.”

Huffing, Tommy rolled his eyes with a smile. Tubbo always got more openly affectionate when he was tired. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you short bastard.” Tubbo squawked indignantly but still retained his cheerful expression. “Piss off.” He laughed, his mirth only growing as Tommy stuck his tongue out childishly in response.

-0-

“RANBOO, WHERE THE f*ck IS MY T-SHIRT?”

Tommy’s voice echoed from the bathroom, swiftly followed by swearing and the crash of a broken laundry basket.

“Try looking under the bed!” Ranboo replied, bouncing Michael up and down on their knee.

Since the previous evening, the three had discovered a number of things about Michael. The first being, much to Tommy's dismay, he'd been correct in the assumption that Schlatt was still in control of The Pit. The second was that Michael had escaped alone. The third, and slightly more pressing matter, he had been trying to avoid the cronies that Schlatt sent after him for what seemed to be just over a week.

Tommy, having retrieved his shirt and pulled it over his head, ruffled Michael's hair as he passed. The child giggled and waved his arms at Tommy as he passed, and Ranboo shifted his grip to stop Michael from falling.

O-M-M-Y!

Michael grinned excitedly, still making grabby hands at Tommy as he made his way over to the fridge.

“Guess Michael has his favourites.” Tommy smiled smugly over at Ranboo, who rolled his eyes in return. “Sure, sure, I'm sure he'll change his mind by the end of the day.” Ranboo grinned, and then, lifting Michael, continued in a babyish voice “Won't ya little guy? Yeah! Yeah!”

“Skies Ranboo, you're acting like his parent!” Tubbo chuckled, poking his head around the corner and spooning cereal into his mouth.

Snorting, Ranboo lowered Michael to the sofa beside them and saw Tommy and Tubbo to the door. “Don't stay out after work, and remember Tommy we've got patrol tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, don't worry I know. See you later, Ran.”

“Bye ‘Boo!”

The door shut behind them, and the two boys raced down the stairs and out onto the street, bickering jokingly all the while.

-0-

“Eret! You in?” Tubbo shouted into the cafe, shutting the door behind Tommy as he entered.

“Yup, come through to the kitchen. Purpled’s in early today, so you can both chill in the kitchen with Ranboo if they’re here.” Eret’s voice rang out, followed by Purpled’s, calling out a greeting.

“Nah, Ranboo stayed home today, needed to get some sh*t done.” Tommy shook his head as he entered the back room, nodding to Purpled in greeting.

“Oh, good to hear he's settling in well. You can go out front then Tom, and Tubbo if you want to go between and help with customers while Purpled and I can stay back here.” Eret patted Tommy absentmindedly on the head, pointing Purpled over to the oven to retrieve some baked goods as she did.

“Sure thing Big E, grab us if you need anything!” Dragging Tommy towards the counter, Tubbo saluted Eret with a grin while Tommy flipped them off, muttering something about Eret only being taller than him because of xeir platforms.

The cafe opened on time, which was a rather unusual occurrence, and customers began flowing in. No one Tommy recognised, other than one regular who rarely spoke and always wore a green frog hat. He didn't hang around, however, and Tommy quickly grew bored. Even Tubbo was unable to resolve his boredom, though not for lack of trying. By the time lunch break rolled around, Tommy was practically tearing his hair out in boredom. His melodrama didn’t go unnoticed, and Purpled gave him a wide berth while Eret rolled his eyes fondly and made sure Tommy ate.

Tubbo could probably guess the root of the problem. And if he couldn’t, then Tommy flopping onto a chair and groaning loudly about not being home with Michael definitely pointed him in the right direction. Tubbo snorted, and patted his friend sympathetically on the arm. “He’ll be there when we get home later, don’t worry king.”

“But later isn’t noww.” Tommy whined, dragging a hand down his face. Tubbo poked at Tommy’s chest, forcing him to sit up and pushing a plate of grated cheese towards him. “You’re such a dramatic dumbass sometimes, y’know I think Wilbur might be rubbing off on you bossman.”

“Oi! He is not rubbing off on me you f*ckin’ wanker!”

Tubbo snorted, grabbing a handful of cheese from Tommy’s plate and sticking his tongue out. “Sure, sure. Just survive the next few hours and we’ll be home, and then you can talk to Michael as much as you’d like.”

“I’m counting on it.” Tommy said dryly, rolling his eyes.

-0-

“See! That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Tubbo practically chirped, laughing at Tommy’s melodrama. Tommy, in return, stuck his tongue out and huffed loudly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, can it Bee Boy. Walk faster.” He flipped Tubbo off before speeding ahead, impatient to get home. Jogging to keep up, Tubbo snorted at his friend's antics. “Tom, you do realise that walking quick won’t make the train arrive any sooner? We’ll just have to wait in the station for ages.”

Tommy came to a sudden halt, stopping right in the middle of the street so suddenly that Tubbo almost walked into him. “...f*ck you’re right.” He muttered, and promptly began walking again, dragging Tubbo into a tiny alleyway before taking off his rucksack and digging through it.

Tubbo stared at the taller boy in confusion which quickly became somewhat disbelieving humour when he saw what Tommy had been searching for. “f*cking hell do you seriously take that everywhere?” He said, watching Tommy pull out his mask and capelet.

“Yup, now turn around.” Tommy responded snarkily, shoving Tubbo gently to get him to face the wall. Tubbo complied, squeezing his eyes shut for good measure, but not without first making fun of his friend. “Holy sh*t you're so paranoid.”

“Well excuse me for being prepared, Mr I-almost-stabbed-my-friend-with-a-screwdriver!” Tommy scoffed, and even without looking Tubbo could practically see the eye roll that was being sent his way. Tubbo gave a loud bleat of indignance, folding his arms across his chest. “That was a completely different situation!”

“Sure, whatever you say. Now, are you coming or what?”

Tubbo turned, grin already plastered across his face, and came face-to-face with Theseus. Wide smile visible even through his cloth mask, a pair of wings sprouting from his back. His capelet rested uncomfortably between them, almost the same shade as the tips of the wings. “C’mon, don’t just stand there gawking!” Tommy turned, allowing space for Tubbo to climb onto his back. Tubbo didn’t move, eyeing his friend apprehensively. “There is no way in hell you can lift me with those wings.” He scoffed, reaching a hand out to brush through a few feathers.

They looked nice, but Tubbo almost gave himself an aneurysm whenever he thought too hard about the impossible physics of Tommy’s wings supporting even just himself, let alone another person as well. Obviously, he knew it was possible. Avians wouldn’t exist otherwise. Hell, he’d seen avians who could lift multiple people at once, the hero Ares serving as a perfect example. But still. Logically speaking, that shouldn’t be possible. Okay, hollow bones, sure, but still. Tubbo wasn’t confident that Tommy could get them both home safe.

“Yeah I can! I’ve carried Ran like that before, I promise it’ll be fine.” Tommy waved away his concerns, flaring his wings confidently. Tubbo sighed, and Tommy knelt down so he could gingerly climb up. “How’re you gonna- MERDE!” Tubbo cut himself off as Tommy leapt into the air, wings beating beside him and propelling them higher. “f*cking- Skies, give a guy some warning!” He yelped, grip tightening on Tommy’s shoulders as he squeezed his eyes shut.

The wind rushed past them, Tommy’s elated laugh carried by it as they went. Tubbo, cursing in rapid French, wrapped his arms as tight as possible around Tommy's neck as they swooped upwards dangerously quickly. They glided above buildings, and almost thirty seconds passed before Tubbo slowly reopened his eyes. It took another few minutes, but eventually his grip loosened so that it was no longer practically strangling Tommy, and he began laughing right alongside the avian. The air was cool, whipping around them and almost drowning out the gleeful laughs of the two boys. Tubbo made the novice mistake of looking down, and he felt his head spin. Everything seemed so tiny, like children's toys, and Tubbo suddenly realised just how high they were. He thought he could make out a few people pointing up at them, but they were too far away to really be able to tell.

Tommy swooped suddenly, tilting to the side so the tip of his wing brushed against the roof of a building. Swearing loudly, Tubbo tightened his grip once more as he felt his stomach drop sickeningly. Tommy, however, seemed entirely unperturbed, and Tubbo could only just hear him whooping excitedly over the sound of his wings beating rhythmically either side.

-0-

“Holy sh*t that was so awesome!” Tubbo laughed breathlessly as he climbed down from Tommy’s back. They’d landed on a roof a few buildings down from the apartment block, not wanting to draw attention and Tubbo not particularly wanting to dive through the window as Tommy so often did. Tommy ducked down behind a bulkhead to change while Tubbo kept watch, kicking bits of gravel onto the ground far below. The streets were thankfully empty, the usual rush hour train not having arrived yet. The lack of people combined with the general apocalyptic appearance of District 47 provided quite the interesting backdrop, and Tubbo found that it was strangely comforting. In a weird, off-putting kind of way.

The sound of footsteps on gravel approaching were the only warning Tubbo got before Tommy sat beside him, legs dangling dangerously over the edge of the building. A flicker of anxiety rose in his stomach before he remembered that, oh yeah, Tommy had wings. He wouldn’t go falling to his death like his alias’ namesake.

“Ready to head home?” He asked, turning to face Tommy head-on. Tommy hummed, shrugging. “Ready when you are, big man.”

“Right.” Tubbo nodded, casting a glance around the roof.

“Right.”

“Uh. Tommy. How do we get down?”

“...f*ck.”

Chapter 37: Run Away To a World That We Design

Chapter Text

Despite Tommy’s initial excitement at the idea, they didn’t end up going on patrol that evening.

As soon as he and Tubbo collapsed into the apartment, bursting through the door in a flurry of chaos and almost tripping over each other, Tommy found himself trapped on the sofa with Michael curled up on his lap. He immediately began fussing over the child, practically interrogating Ranboo to make sure everything had gone okay (“He did eat, right? He ate? You got him some food? And nothing bad happened? Did he need a nap? He didn’t have any nightmares or anything? Nobody got hurt?”).

Tubbo had snorted loudly at Tommy’s blatant attachment to the kid he’d barely known a day, shaking his head fondly before retiring to his desk for a few hours, while Ranboo – after answering each of Tommy’s questions with a bemused smile – planted themself on the floor beside Tommy’s legs and began carefully braiding Michael’s hair.

The evening sauntered slowly closer, and time seemed syrupy. Tommy wasn’t paying much attention to anything else, just the book he was reading and making sure Michael didn’t get hurt. When he did look up, however, and finally took in the scene in front of him, he blinked in surprise.

“I didn’t know you knew how to braid hair, Ran.” Tommy spoke lazily, flicking through his book with one hand and making sure Michael didn’t fall with the other. Ranboo hummed, not removing his own hands from Michael’s hair. “Yeah. You know Deimos? Enhanced strength, massive cape? Number 3 hero? I sometimes braid- well, braided his hair. I actually got pretty good at it.”

“Hm. They do look quite similar, don’t they? Michael and Deimos, I mean.” Tommy thought aloud, picturing the hero in his mind. The hero who, yes, thinking about it, did look quite similar to Michael, but also startlingly similar to another face from Tommy’s past. His own brother, in fact. The bright pink hair was the most obvious similarity, but there were other things too. Deimos, from what few words Tommy had heard him speak, had the same inflection and rhythm of speaking as he remembered Techno having. Similar powers, too. Hell, they’d even be the same age, if Techno were still alive. It was almost uncanny, the similarities, and if Tommy was any more hopeful (or delusional) he might have tried to kid himself into believing that Deimos was his brother.

But he wasn’t hopeful, and besides, that part of his life was over. Far in his past, it couldn’t hurt him – or anyone else – anymore. Or so he had thought. While that assumption turned out to be optimistic at best, downright false at worst, one thing Tommy could say with confidence was that The Pit, while not gone, no longer controlled his life. And, yes, while it hurt to think back on the people he’d lost, hurt to know that they deserved so much better, hurt to know that, if Michael was any indication, The Pit was still hurting people, he took comfort in the fact that he was here, and he was safe. And, just as he had with Ranboo and Michael, even Tubbo to an extent, he could continue to make sure other people were safe.

“I suppose they do, yeah. Weird.” Ranboo’s pensive voice brought his stream of thoughts to a close, and Tommy nodded. Eventually, Michael broke the calm silence with a loud babbling sound, almost like a baby's giggles, making sure not to wriggle too much in order to prevent messing up the plait Ranboo was creating, and held up his hands.

O-M-Y – B-U-S

Ranboo looked up, smiling. “Yeah, that’s us. You alright?”

Michael nodded vigorously, waiting for a moment for Ranboo to tie off the end of the braid before sitting up properly.

Food – Soon – When?

As if on cue, Tubbo pushed himself away from his desk and stood up with a sigh. “Right, I think I’m gonna get started on dinner, so you two stay the f*ck away from the kitchen, got it?” He grumbled, eyeing his two friends with mistrust as he entered the kitchen. Tommy saluted mockingly, an amused nod accompanying it. Ranboo also nodded, turning to face Tubbo. “What’re you making? Can we have spaghetti?”

Tommy groaned, leaning his head on the back of the sofa. “You ask for spaghetti every bloody night!”

“Yeah, but we haven’t had it since, like, Wednesday. Please?” Ranboo implored, twisting around to keep Tubbo in sight as he rummaged through the cabinets. Humming, Tubbo rolled his eyes with a smile. “Fine, sure, yeah I’ll make spag. Not in the mood for complicated sh*t today anyway.”

“Heck yeah! Thanks, Tubbo.” Ranboo fist pumped the air, and Tommy whined playfully at his friend's weird obsession with that particular type of pasta, but still chuckled alongside the others. Michael laid back again, content, and allowed Ranboo to go back to fiddling with his hair, which they did happily.

About fifteen minutes passed in serene silence before Tubbo called them into the kitchen, and Tommy lifted Michael into his arms. He stood up, Ranboo quick to follow, and the pair made their way into the other room.

Setting Michael down in a chair, Tommy grabbed two bowls from the counter and placed one in front of the younger boy before sitting down with the other. Tubbo was already sitting down with his bowl, and Ranboo took their own – a plate, since they only had three bowls – before joining the table. The meal passed, for the most part, uneventfully. The most dramatic thing to happen was Tommy getting spaghetti thrown at him by a red-faced Tubbo mere moments after joking once again about his roommates marital status. While Tommy shrieked about it, it was pretty tame compared to their day-to-day lives.

In fact, it was all rather domestic.

That sentiment was, if anything, only accentuated by the four of them curling up on the sofa and – after extensive debate – watching the third Toy Story film. Ranboo thought it was a bit odd, not having seen either of the other films in the series, and Tommy couldn’t help but agree. Sentient plastic dolls sounded, if anything, pretty f*cking terrifying to him. Tubbo, on the other hand, seemed to find the film nostalgic, and Michael seemed to enjoy it well enough.

Despite how much he seemed to like it, Michael fell asleep quickly. With over half an hour left in the film, the boy curled up on Tubbo’s chest and shut his eyes. Ranboo, too, seemed to be nodding off, and rested their head on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy glanced at his phone – quarter to nine – and sighed. Tubbo, who had been running a hand through Michael’s hair, snorted and spoke quietly. “No patrol tonight then, I’m guessing?”

Tommy chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “Nah, no shot. Might try for tomorrow instead, if that works out.” Scoffing, Tubbo grinned over the heads of the sleeping boys at Tommy. “You mean if Michael doesn’t latch onto you again?”

“Exactly.” Tommy replied dryly, stretching his arms above his head before continuing. “Speaking of, we should probably get the little guy to bed. I’m guessing Ran’s taking the couch, and Michael’s goin’ to be in the bed again, so what d’you want to do?”

Tubbo hummed, clearly thinking about something. Probably the sleeping arrangements, but Tommy could never be too certain. He could, in fact, be thinking about the best way to blow up the Hero Tower. Tubbo was unpredictable like that. “Not sure. We should probably get him a proper bed or something, but until then, I’m pretty sure we have enough spare blankets to set up on the floor again.”

-0-

Ten pm had come and gone, Tubbo and him having set up some pillows and blankets on the bedroom floor a while earlier. Even with the extensive blankets, the floor was hard where he lay, and Tommy could already tell that his back would be sore in the morning. Despite this, Tommy found himself to be growing quite tired. The curtains were only half-drawn, and through them Tommy could see the moon high in the sky. Michael was still asleep where they’d put him down on the bed, and Ranboo could be heard snoring lightly in the other room. Tubbo and Tommy were both on the floor, and Tubbo had been still for a while, so Tommy was fairly certain he was asleep.

He listened to the sounds. The breathing from the bed – Michael’s – was almost silent, with the slight nasally sound being its only giveaway. Ranboo’s breathing was quick, almost worryingly so, and Tommy considered for a moment whether to wake them up. Every now and then, Tubbo would sigh heavily, as if resetting his lungs, before his breathing resumed the same deep and kind of raspy quality as usual.

Michael rolled over in his sleep, and Tommy startled as his hand flopped off the side of the bed and dangled directly in front of his face.

It felt… uncanny, in a way, for the house to be so silent after all those weeks of constant sound.

Tommy had never liked the quiet.

Even in The Pit, there had been a constant stream of sound. Not always good sound, but still sound. He used to crave the silence, then, even if it was a completely foreign concept. Then, when he got out, once he got his apartment, he was able to revel in his newfound silence for a while. Being able to sleep without the constant sound of children screaming in the background? Bliss. Then, when he inevitably became uncomfortable, the voices would always provide a nice hum to lull him into unconsciousness.

And then Tubbo moved in. Tubbo moved in, and his house became colourful. Mornings were chaotic, evenings were loud, every moment filled with laughter. It was difficult to get used to, at first. The sound of another set of breaths, another voice filling the house. But it was nice.

Then came Ranboo. Ranboo, and everything was suddenly simultaneously so much calmer and so much more chaotic. Ranboo seemed to fill a gap that he hadn’t even realised was there. They were calmer than either Tommy or Tubbo, but still managed to match their energy with his witty humour when so desired. Everything felt more balanced. Life was even louder than before, but it was fun, not overwhelming, and Tommy wouldn’t even hesitate to admit that he loved both his roommates.

Finally, he found Michael. Almost as soon as the boy mentioned The Pit, Tommy knew that he was going to help this kid if it was the last thing he did. So, while it might not have been objectively the smartest decision to take Michael into an already overcrowded and underfunded apartment, it was still one that he stood by. Both Ranboo and Tubbo also grew attached to him, and Tommy wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

If he’d been asked, even just a few months ago, he would’ve scoffed at anyone even suggesting he might have a family. He would’ve said – truthfully, at the time – that his ‘family’, if it could even be called that, was long dead. His brother had been gone for years, his friend dead, and the only other two people he’d ever been even remotely close to had been killed. He’d found a new life, yes, both Tubbo and Eret were amazing, but he’d never truly considered them family. He might have joked about it with Eret, but he was never serious.

Not in a million years would he have thought he’d have a family, especially one consisting of his best friend (who also happens to be the son of the man who kidnapped him), an ex-hero, and a random child they found on the streets. And, despite the fact that Eret didn’t live with them, his boss.

Tommy’s family was the antithesis of ‘conventional’. It was messy, it was broken, and sure, it was a little bit sad, but it was real and it was his, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter 38: The Sun Can't Shine Forever

Chapter Text

The next day, Ranboo stayed home with Michael again. Tubbo said they’d be home a bit late – much to Tommy’s only slightly exaggerated chagrin –, promising that they’d stop off at the local charity shop and get Michael some clothes that actually fit, as well as a few more sets of cutlery if they could. A bed was still on the waiting list, and Tommy’s back was really starting to twinge after spending so many nights on the floor. But until they could scrounge up the money for not only a bed frame, but also a mattress and some sheets that fit, they had to make do.

Tubbo was looking into finding some decent gigs online so he could make some (likely illegal) money through his coding skills. But they’d have to wait for that to pick up before Tubbo was able to earn much from it, so it was a work in progress.

It was surprisingly warm out given the time of year, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it after they’d been waiting almost half an hour for the train – with still no indication of when it would arrive – which was apparently running abhorrently late. Tommy shot off a quick apology text to Eret, explaining the situation, and grumbled while they waited. Tubbo, who had sat himself down on a nearby bench and was now flicking through an abandoned newspaper, snorted incredulously and gestured for Tommy to come over. He did, flipping his phone shut, and Tubbo waited until he was right beside him to show him the headline that he found so funny.

“Tom- you won’t f*cking believe this, look what they wrote.” He spoke through giggles, turning the paper so Tommy had a full view of the image that took up most of the front page. Tommy blinked, and the image took a moment to sink in. It was them. Well, Theseus. A horribly pixelated photo of Theseus, flying through the air with a mostly hidden Tubbo on his back. That was unusual, sure, but ultimately not too surprising. Theseus had been in the news before, and he was rarely seen during the day – much less all the way up in District 12, apparently the area this photo was taken, nor with another person with him –, so it wasn’t a massive shock that people were confused.

What did, however, come as a shock to Tommy, was the headline and article that accompanied the image.

Theseus – Public vigilante spotted with child – Connected to a kidnapping?

Theseus, the well-known and beloved neighbourhood vigilante who is usually spotted in Districts 40-50, was shockingly spotted flying through the sky in broad daylight yesterday afternoon.

Many people believed that Theseus was an open, sociable vigilante. Who wouldn’t, his charming and easy-going nature creating a trusting illusion for many. But the recent reveal of Theseus in reality being an avian – a fact he previously hid from the public – has led many people to question if there might be more that the vigilante is hiding, and if he’s really to be trusted. As if to solidify this concern, Theseus was seen gliding around District 12 with a boy whose identity has not yet been confirmed late yesterday afternoon.

Many think this confirms the sinister reality of Theseus, believing him to be a child kidnapper. Others rushed to defend the illegal hero, claiming that he could’ve simply been helping someone away from a dangerous situation. The controversy seems to have divided many internet forums, and a number of heroes have stepped forward to give their statements on the matter.

“There is little evidence pointing either way, so while we cannot confirm nor deny anything, rest assured that we won’t stop looking for the unidentified boy. [...] His safety is of utmost importance to us” Says number four hero Phobos.

Number two hero Dolos has also spoken out on the matter, assuring the public that they are “in no immediate danger, and steps are being taken to not only track down this child but also to apprehend Theseus.”

A third hero, Daedalus (head of the security and policing sect, ranked eighth) has also taken to the papers, stating that “while we cannot legally arrest Theseus without probable cause, it stands to reason that more evidence will come to light. Theseus remains innocent until proven guilty, and unless we can identify the child he was spotted with, we are rendered unable to move forward in the investigation. If the child pictured above is you, or you think you know who they might be, please contact the Tower, or reach out to your local police station. Thank you.”

These conflicting statements on the young boy’s whereabouts, as well as overall progress regarding the criminal investigation into Theseus, has divided the general public even further. If you have concerns, theories, or want to submit your own thoughts about the contents of this article, reach out to us at [emailprotected], and your contribution could have the chance to be featured in a future article.

“What the f*ck?” Tommy spoke through his laughter, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Exactly!” Tubbo giggled, snatching the newspaper back and flicking through it to see if there was anything else relevant. Tommy let him take it without fuss, still trying to process what he’d just read. They thought. They actually thought he’d kidnapped Tubbo. They thought he had kidnapped his best friend.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and settled on incredulous laughter as he really didn’t want to start crying in the middle of the train station. Tubbo, evidently not having found anything else interesting in the paper, folded it up with a huff and shoved it into a pocket. He picked at a bit of moss growing on the bench for a minute as Tommy watched, before lifting his head suddenly and squinting into the distance. “Train’s almost here.”

Tommy whipped his head around, staring intently at the same spot Tubbo was looking to. “Where? I don’t see anything.” He moved forward, craning his neck in an attempt to look further. Tubbo shrugged, gesturing in the general area of his head. “I can… feel it, I guess. The trains run on nuclear energy – which isn’t even close to sustainable, but that’s a topic for another day –, so I can kind of. Yeah. Feel it. ‘Cause of my powers and sh*t.”

“Huh. Cool, I didn’t know you could do that.” Tommy said in surprise, bobbing his head. Shrugging once again, Tubbo grinned. “Yup, it’s a bit weird. Kind of neat though.” Sure enough, the train rounded the corner just as Tubbo finished speaking. Tommy jumped as it whistled loudly, and Tubbo pulled himself to his feet with a sigh.

-0-

Despite the two of them being close to an hour late, Eret seemed to be handling things well enough. Xey chivvied the pair of them into the kitchen, and fussed around for a few minutes before allowing Tommy out front to work the till. Tubbo buzzed around the kitchen, assisting Eret with a tray of scones, and for a few moments Tommy was reminded of a day so eerily similar to this one, almost four months earlier. Before Ranboo, before Michael, before Purpled, even before Tubbo moved in.

His train had been running late, and when he finally did get to the cafe, overflowing with apologies, Eret had shook her head and told him not to worry. Tubbo had been energetic as ever, flitting about in the kitchen, and Tommy had taken up his usual post at the front. The day had been slow, and, despite the chaotic start, remained a happy memory in Tommy’s mind. A simpler time, when his biggest worries were avoiding getting arrested as Theseus and whether or not Eret would try and give him extra food. None of this ‘found family’ bullsh*t, no saving heroes from their mentors, or finding out that his best friend's dad was the man that destroyed his childhood, or realising that he was still doing the same to more kids now. Just Tommy, Tubbo, and Eret, in the café without a care in the world.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. But definitely with significantly fewer cares in the world.

“Good morning, Tommy.” A pleasantly cheerful voice came from in front of him, pulling Tommy away from his reminiscence. Looking up, he grinned as he realised who it was. “Hey Niki! How’re you today?”

“I’m doing okay. How are you? Is Eret around somewhere?” She smiled, pulling a few coins from her wallet, Tommy already knowing what she would order. “Same here, I’m alright. Eret’s just in the kitchen, as usual, d’you want to go get him or should I?” He poured the coffee – a cold mocha – into a mug and passed it across the counter. “I’ll go grab xem, thanks Tommy.”

“No problem, see you around.” He called out as she made her way towards the kitchen, coffee in hand. She nodded to him one last time before rounding the corner, disappearing into the other room. A minute passed, and then Niki re-emerged from the room, closely followed by Eret and also… Tubbo? Tommy furrowed his brows in confusion, approaching them quickly. They were also moving towards him, and he met them halfway. Tubbo seemed just as lost as him, watching Eret in concern. “Sorry you two, an… uh, emergency has come up, I’ve got to dash. I’m sorry to ask this of you guys, but do you mind closing up? Help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen, then you can head home early.” Eret spoke quickly, agitated and frowning, and Tommy stared at Niki to see if he could find out any more information.

Unfortunately, she seemed just as unwilling to share, though she appeared to be just as impatient as Eret to get going. Evidently, whatever this ‘emergency’ was, it was serious. Tommy had never seen his boss so jitterish, and he nodded dumbly. Tubbo, however, didn’t seem so satisfied. “You sure?” He asked, carefully concealed panic in his voice. “What’s going on, anything we can help with?”

Shaking their head, Eret glanced at the door. “No, no, thank you for offering Tubbo. Just go home, take some time off. I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll message in advance if this isn’t resolved by then, okay? See you boys soon, don’t worry too much.” Eret gave them both a quick hug, and almost faster than Tommy could blink, vanished out the door with Niki in tow.

“...Well that wasn’t worrying at all.” Tubbo spoke sarcastically, folding his arms and gazing across at the door that Eret and Niki had just left through. Despite not actually saying anything, Tommy agreed. He was confused and worried about Eret, as well as whatever it was that caused such a visceral reaction. It left him feeling tense, and he was still frazzled even as he and Tubbo did as Eret suggested, closing the cafe early and cleaning up. After they did, standing outside and locking up, Tubbo and Tommy exchanged a look.

Tommy opened his mouth, trying to find something to say, but then closed it quickly. Tubbo also remained silent, and Tommy wracked his brains for something, anything, to resolve the tension in the air. Finally, he found a viable topic. “I mean, I guess we have more time to get sh*t for Michael now?”

Tubbo hummed, and Tommy pulled open the train times on his phone. “D’you wanna do the shopping at Mellohi, or we can head back and grab sh*t at Boomer’s.”

Considering for a moment, Tubbo shook his head. “Mellohi, it’ll be more expensive but I don’t trust anything from Boomer’s not to be carrying at least three diseases.” Tommy laughed, tension draining from his shoulders. “Good point, Mellohi it is then.” He pocketed his phone, squinting down the street. “Next train’s in twenty minutes, but the one after is two hours away, so we’ll get that one instead.”

Nodding, Tubbo grabbed Tommy’s wrist and began dragging him down the street. “Let's go, better make the most of our free time.”

-0-

“We’re f*cking home!” Tommy hollered, kicking the apartment door open dramatically and dropped a trio of paper bags brimming with any number of objects onto the floor. Tubbo followed close behind, rolling his eyes at Tommy’s theatrical entrance. A small body hurtled across the room towards them, and Tubbo let out a sharp “Oof!” as Michael wrapped his arms around his torso. Ranboo stood by the bedroom door, leaning on the wall with their arms folded across his chest. “You guys are back early. Everything alright?”

They wandered across the room, peering into one of the bags and grinning at Michael as he pulled out a stuffed toy. Tubbo and Tommy both shrugged. “Dunno. Eret ran off for some ‘emergency’, so we got to go home early.” Tommy shoved his hands into his pockets, the concern he’d managed to dispel earlier making its way back into his voice. “I’m sure it’ll all be fine,” Tubbo reassured, also lowering some bags onto the floor. “Eret knows what they’re doing.”

Tommy hummed, and the three teens stood in contemplative silence for a few moments before Michael let out an excited squeal. From one of the bags he’d produced a duck plushie, holding it up to the three of them with a broad smile. Tubbo grinned down at him, recognising the toy. “D’you like it?” He asked, smile widening as Michael nodded vigorously. “Oh yeah? What’re you going to name it?”

Pausing for a moment, Michael looked between Tubbo and the duck a few times. He co*cked his head to the side before responding.

Name – his – B-E-N-S-O-N

Ranboo translated quickly, as, despite starting to learn, neither Tubbo nor Tommy were quite at the point of being able to read directly from Michael. Tubbo’s grin widened, and Tommy could’ve sworn that he saw his friend's eyes begin to water. “Awh! That’s a great name for a great duck.” He reached down and patted Michael gently on the head. The young boy giggled, revelling in the affection.

As if hit by a sudden memory, Ranboo gasped. “Oh! Michael, do you want to show the others what you showed me earlier? Your drawing?”

Michael turned, blinking at Ranboo for a moment before seeming to remember. He darted back across the room, disappearing into the bedroom. The three teenagers were left standing by the door, Tubbo and Tommy both looking at Ranboo expectantly. When they offered no further explanation, Tommy asked. “Drawing? What drawing?”

Before Ranboo could do more than offer a knowing smile, Michael trundled back into the room, now clutching a crumpled and slightly torn piece of paper in his hand. Holding it up, he presented it to the three of them. Catching sight of the drawing, Tommy was pretty certain his heart swelled at least three sizes.

AWWWWHHHH

MICHAEL

HE’S SO/pos

lil baby 🥹

Michael nedes all the hugs

brb, gonna go scream intoa pillow at the cutenes overload

FRRR

Benchtrio+Michael as family my beloved <3

Displayed on the page were four stick figures. The one on the far left was the tallest, sporting a purple and blue blob where their torso should be. With the mid-length dirty blonde hair that fell just past his shoulders and heterochromatic red and green eyes, this figure was easily identifiable as Ranboo, clearly in some half-transformed state. Beside Ranboo’s figure, on the grass, was a black and white flower with blue and purple spots. Next in the line was a much shorter figure – Tubbo, easy to spot due to the short, curly brown hair that went just down to his neck, as well as the green blob for his torso and eyes. Beside him, was a yellow flower.

The third figure seemed to be somewhere between the first and second in terms of height, with short fluffy blonde hair that stopped around his ears and bright blue eyes. It was clearly Tommy, wielding a stick of gold, which was presumably supposed to be light, a blob of colour across the stick figures torso clearly mimicking his signature red and white shirt. On the ground beside him was a red and white flower. Finally, the shortest of the four people, with choppy pink hair and a dark scar across one eye, was evidently Michael. He had a blob of brown that seemed to be similar to the dirt-crusted overalls that he wore across his torso, and was grinning happily. A greenish flower sprouted from the ground beside him.

And, if that hadn’t been enough to identify them, the four figures were labelled. ‘Bus’, ‘Bee’, ‘Omy’, and ‘Me’, written in a shaky scrawl across the top of the page.

Tubbo was silent, his eyes undeniably brimming with tears, and Ranboo gave him a quick glance of concern. “Michael, that’s wonderful!” Tommy spoke far softer than either of his friends might have thought possible a few days prior, and reached out tentatively to take the picture in his hands. “Wow, you’re a really good artist! We should find somewhere to put this.” Michael preened at the praise, and Ranboo’s eyes crinkled into a smile at Tommy’s exaggerated amazement. Tubbo wiped at his eyes, and quickly joined Tommy in gushing about the drawing extensively.

-0-

Not long later, after Tommy had dug out a magnet and the four of them had pinned Michael’s drawing onto the fridge, Ranboo and Tommy were preparing to head out on patrol for the first time since they’d found Michael. Tubbo was to stay home with Michael, as could be expected, while the other two hopped around the SMP for a few hours.

The two vigilantes were waiting by the window, listening to Tubbo lay down the rules. Apparently, they now had a curfew.

“-ay, so, if you guys could get back by eleven at the latest, that’d be ideal. Try not to get into too much chaos, Ranboo I’m trusting you to be the responsible one here. And please, for the love of f*ck, don’t drag home any more children. Or at least message me in advance.” He flashed them a grin, throwing a quick glance behind him to where Michael was curled up on the sofa, completely absorbed in some sh*tty childrens animation.

“Of course, Tubster, when have you ever known either of us to get into trouble?” Tommy retorted cheekily, shoving his hands into his pockets. Ranboo snorted, and Tubbo folded his arms. “Don’t even start. Remember, back by eleven, don’t get hurt. Have fun, go stop some crime!”

And with that, Tommy promptly threw himself out of the window.

Chapter 39: You’re Not What You Say You Are (You Know That Better Than Me)

Chapter Text

They weren't even there for the start of the fight. In fact, neither of them had so much as been aware of the damned thing until the explosions sounded.

He and Ranboo had left the apartment earlier than he might usually go on patrol, barely a few minutes after the sun began setting, and had jumped around the lower districts for almost three hours before the explosions came.

It was almost ten pm when the two blasts sounded, and they seemed to be coming from entirely different locations. Tommy and Ranboo stared at each other for a moment with unbridled concern. They remained still for a few seconds, hovering and uncertain, unable to choose which way to go, before Tommy made a – very rash – decision.

“You go left, I go right?” He asked, and launched himself into the sky well before Ranboo had an opportunity to refute the idea. When the teenager squawked in indignation, Tommy turned back with a clear grin and called out: “See you back here in an hour!”

This, as he would soon discover, would turn out to be arguably one of the worst mistakes of his entire life. And that wasn’t an easy title to gain.

-0-

Tommy hesitated momentarily just outside of the building where the first explosion seemed to have originated from. An abundance of flashing lights and ant-sized heroes were converging on the warehouses that lined L’manburg bay, far too many for any normal incident. His internal debate was short-lived, and mere moments later he was leaping across buildings in the direction of the sound. He didn’t even really know what the fight was about, arriving just in time to see Ares blasting Porphyrion across the warehouse. And oh, Tommy could almost laugh at the hypocrisy.

Ares, a hero known for his love of children, his strong sense of justice and tendency to be particularly passionate when under-eighteens were involved, fighting a boy who was likely no older than Tommy himself.

He still wasn’t sure where the explosion had come from, since, to his knowledge at least, neither of the pair had powers even remotely explosive-related. Of everyone, Daedalus or Actaeon were most likely to cause something like that, but Tommy couldn’t spot either of the pair, and besides, Daedalus was still meant to be a hero. Maybe Cosmos, she seemed to enjoy that sort of thing, although the purple-haired villain hadn’t been seen around all that much in recent weeks. Or perhaps it had been The Hermits, or another small crime group.

Tommy didn’t know, and, to be frank, he didn’t really care. More people were spilling in, Misthios seemingly coming to his brother's defence, Phobos, Demeter, and Deimos all coming to Ares’. Before he knew it, more people were piling in. Tommy was caught up, preoccupied with fighting Alopex, Porphyrion by his side. His fellow vigilante was already injured, a long gash spilling blood down his temple, and Tommy was not about to let another one of his colleagues, borderline friends at this point, fall victim to the heroes.

The fight was a blur, time seeming to slip like sand through his fingers. A temporary respite came as Alopex turned to assist his mentor in a separate fight.

The quick seconds of peace allowed Tommy to properly assess the situation. Looking about the warehouse, a few unfamiliar faces flashed around him, as did some he knew well. Still no one who was, to his knowledge, able to cause explosions. Daedalus was nowhere to be seen, nor was Actaeon, Cosmos, or any of the Hermits. He couldn’t even spot a single one of the recently emerged villain trio which didn’t yet have a name, the three just known individually as Batrakhos, Karcharias, and Alki. sh*t names if you were to ask Tommy, but that was besides the point.

All that was to say, Tommy found himself entirely unable to locate the source of the chaos. Rather, it simply seemed to be a bunch of heroes, fighting a bunch of vigilantes. A few villains were dotted here and there – Kairos, flinging sharpened playing cards at anyone who tried to approach him, and a weird guy in a bright blue hedgehog suit that Tommy couldn’t quite put a name to –, but for the most part, it seemed entirely unreasonable for the people involved to be fighting.

More often than not, heroes and vigilantes left each other alone. There were occasional conflicts, sure, but there were very few heroes who actively went out of their way to antagonise the vigilantes.

His confused thoughts were interrupted suddenly by a grunt of pain from nearby, and Porphyrion crashed into his back. Whirling around, Tommy was met with a slightly terrifying sight. Bearing down on the two of them, axe in hand, was Deimos, a chunk of his own hair falling around his feet. That, Tommy knew, was bad . No one, no one , touched Deimos’ hair. Judging by the almost palpable fear that seemed to be radiating from the purple-clad vigilante beside him, Porphyrion knew it too.

In what seemed to be an almost blind rage, Deimos swung his axe towards Porphyrion, who yelped sharply and rolled out of the way. Tommy jumped into action, defending the still-bleeding vigilante best he could.

The fight seemed to pass somehow impossibly slow and impossibly fast. It was almost a dance, of sorts, and Tommy did his best to fall into the easy rhythm of back-and-forth blows, attempting to ignore the feeling of absolute horror at the fact that, holy sh*t , he was actually fighting Deimos. Not just that, but he seemed to be winning . Or, at the very least, not losing.

Jabbering away senselessly, Tommy barely even paid attention to the words spilling from his mouth. Deimos seemed only mildly irked by his voice, still doing his best to reach the other vigilante, who was now crouching between Tommy and the wall, doing his best to crudely wrap his head wound in some grimey bandages he apparently already had with him.

“Jus’ go!” The hero grunted, swerving to avoid a well-aimed punch. “I don’t wanna hurt you, this’ll all be easier if you just leave ! I’m not gonna kill you, you need to leave before I’m forced to arrest you, kid.”

“Uh, no can do Big D! Sorry ‘n all, but I’d rather you didn’t, y’know take Porph’s head off-” Tommy cut himself off in surprise, not expecting the hero to stop so suddenly. Deimos froze in his tracks, what little of his eyes Tommy could see widening under the boar-skull mask. “Hey? You good there king?” He waved a hand in front of the hero's face, half prepared to turn and sprint away.

But then suddenly Deimos moved again, pinning Tommy harshly to the wall. “What did you just call me?” He growled out, shoving Tommy harshly. “Woah! Okay, okay, won’t make the same mistake twice! How ‘bout you just let me go and we can forget any of this ever happened, eh? Come on Big D- or, sorry, Deimos. Just leave off, yeah? Go help one of your other… hero friends.” The hero pulled away, confusion still clear on his half-masked face.

Tommy rubbed at his chest, rolling his shoulders and wincing as they twinged where they’d hit the wall. Deimos was studying him, eyes flicking about almost frantically. His eyes glanced upwards, taking in the escaping strands of golden hair where they were poking out of Tommy’s hood, looking at the hint of blue eye peeking out from where his mask had been yanked down dangerously, before finally flickering back down to an old scar that ran all the way up his middle finger.

Deimos let out an almost wounded noise, staggering back slightly. Tommy stared up at the hero, equally confused and borderline worried. Deimos could be brutal when he wanted, and it was pure luck that he seemed to go easy on Theseus. Tommy couldn’t say why, but he wasn’t complaining. Well, he seemed to go easy on most vigilantes. Except maybe Porphyrion, but that seemed to be a new development. Even so, Tommy did not want to be in the vicinity when Deimos actually lost his sh*t, and by the state of him it didn’t seem too far-fetched.

He stumbled backwards, doing his best to keep just out of range of the hero's axe while still ensuring he was close enough to hear if the man spoke over the chaos. He could just dip, Porphyrion be damned, to go and help one of the others, but he really didn’t want to be held responsible if Deimos either collapsed or actually did end up beheading Porphyrion. But the man didn’t seem to be ill, if anything he just seemed scared. Or shocked, that was probably a better word for it.

Tommy still had half a mind to turn, leave to assist Midas, who was exchanging blows with Hybris, or Tyche, currently trying to fight off Demeter's vines with blasts of water, or Nemesis and Apollo, both battling Ares with vigour.

But before he could, Deimos spoke.

And whatever Tommy was expecting to come out of the hero's mouth, maybe vomit or blood, he was sorely mistaken.

“I- Tommy?”

Tommy reeled backwards, staring at the hero with a mix of incredulity and fear on his face. “Wh- Heh?! How do you- what the f*ck, how do you know my name!” He surged forward, pulling out his knife as he did so and pressing it boldly against Deimos’ throat. “Well!” He shoved the man, who didn’t even struggle, backwards. Deimos could easily rip Tommy in two if he so desired, put his axe right through his skull or simply snap his neck with ease, but he did nothing, even as Tommy’s blade pressed hard against his neck. “You have about three f*cking seconds to explain or I swear to gods-”

Deimos’ eyes were still fixed on him, lost somewhere deep in his memories. Slowly, painfully slowly, he brought a hand up to the edge of his boar skull mask. Tommy’s eyes widened beneath his own mask, realising what was happening just moments before it did.

“Woah there!” He yelped, holding a hand in front of him. “Okay, hold on now, what’re you doi-”

Oh. Oh. Tommy stared, slack-jawed and wild-eyed, at the face in front of him. At the face currently staring right back at him with a mix of unbearable sadness and something akin to wonder splattered across it. At the face he recognised .

No matter how long it had been, no matter how much time had passed, Tommy would recognise that face anywhere. The same deep reddish-brown eyes, the same puckered scar running across his cheek, the same pinkish tint to his skin, the same stress lines that had appeared far too early, the same look of surprise that Tommy has spent so long thinking he’d never see again.

“Tech… Techno?”

His voice was small, meek, and Tommy cursed himself for sounding so unsure. The mask that had been clutched in Deimo- No, in Techno’s hand clattered to the floor.

“No. No! You’re dead, you’re f*cking dead ! You can’t f*ckin' be here, that’s not how it works! That’s- That's not fair !” Tommy spluttered. His voice cracked, mask uncomfortably damp with newly-shed tears. “You f*cking died! I saw- You- How? You can’t-” Shifting on his feet, he stumbled, seemingly torn between stepping back or pulling his missing and presumed-dead brother into a long awaited hug.

His mind raced, words stumbling over each other to get out of his mouth. “No. You died! I know that you died!” But he hadn’t. Clearly, as his brother stood before him, very alive and very real. So that left only one option. “You- You abandoned me .” Tommy almost whispered, his voice still somehow rising above the general din.

Techno flinched harshly, and let out a strangled, choking sound as he stepped backwards. His eyes were wide, staring at Tommy with some wild mix of overpowering relief and paralysing regret.

This resulted in the two of them simply gawking at each other, and in any other situation Tommy might have laughed. His brother was alive . His greatest wish, the one thing he’d longed for for years before he even saw the sun, stood before him. His brother. Techno. He was real, physical, alive. Tommy wasn’t dreaming.

He was real, Tommy thought deliriously, tears clouding his vision. He was real .

It felt as if time had slowed, as if nothing mattered in that moment save for the sweet relief of a family reunited. As if the shouts, the screams, the crumbling concrete, had all been silenced. As if the whole world was waiting with bated breath to see what would happen.

And then the moment passed.

“Deimos!” Someone shouted across the room, and Tommy turned to see- Oh, yeah. They were still in the middle of a fight. The person who’d called out was Ares, wings outstretched in all their glory as he furiously battled Kairos, who seemed to have stepped in now that Apollo was injured.

In the time it took Tommy to process this information and whip his head back to face his brother, Techno had already scooped his mask off the floor and was fluidly securing it around his ears. Tommy gave him a pleading look, snagging onto his cape with one hand. “Techno! We need to f*cking- talk or- I don’t know, please! We don’t have to fight right now! Please!”

Techno winced, his entire body shaking. He looked torn, staring between Tommy and Ares, emotions flashing across his face faster than Tommy could register. He stumbled away, more unsure than Tommy had ever seen him, and hunched his shoulders. “I can’t, Tommy. I’m sorry.”

Tommy made a wounded sound, and his shoulders slumped. “But- Tech, please! Apollo!”

He tried to keep Techno in place, using the old nickname as a desperate last resort, but his brother was stronger. Always had been. Techno pried his fingers away, tear streaks visible even beneath his mask. A sob wracked his body. Now that made Tommy stutter. Techno never cried. Never, not even after his worst fights. The only time Tommy had seen his brother cry was the last one, and even that was out of frustration rather than sadness. The pinkette shook his head mournfully. “I need to help them, Thes. I can’t leave, they’re my family!”

And- Tommy stood, stunned, his hand still hovering beside his brother. A twisted look of anger took over his face, and he sucked in a quick breath.

“What about me!? I was your family too! I was your family first !”

Chapter 40: And When The Villains Fall (The Kingdom Never Weeps)

Chapter Text

Techno tore away, disappearing into the chaos and leaving Tommy standing alone. Porphyrion had long since finished bandaging his wound and vanished once more into the fray, and so Tommy simply stood for a moment. He considered what had just happened, and felt a swell of emotions begin to rise in his chest. However Tommy barely had time to process any more of his raging feelings before he was dodging a stray spurt of water that soared dangerously close to his ear.

“sh*t! Sorry, Theseus! I’d recommend-” Tyche cut herself off with a hiss as a vine tore into her shoulder. “-Moving, it’s about to get real messy here!” She launched herself up on a fountain as Demeter threw a handful of spiked roses towards her. Tommy, shoving any feelings he didn’t feel like dealing with – that being most of them, at this particular point in time – into the back of his mind, wisely took her advice and sprinted towards the other side of the warehouse, narrowly avoiding a shot from Hybris as the hero launched twin balls of flames towards him.

Tommy yelped, throwing himself away from the heat that rushed past his side. Hybris seemed to have given up fighting Midas, who’d since moved on to join Kairos in his fight, now against both Ares and Te- Deimos.

Tommy dragged his eyes away, ignoring the way his heart leapt into his throat at seeing Techno in danger. The man had been fighting his entire childhood, Tommy knew he was good. Beyond good, he was practically a god.

At any rate, Hybris seemed to have moved his focus towards Tommy, and was now blazing towards him. Actually blazing. On fire. Tommy sped forward, near to where a new vigilante (Villain? They definitely weren’t a hero, that much was certain), one Tommy hadn’t seen before, was hovering by the wall. “Hey! Uh- Slime guy? Dude? Lil’ help here?”