Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy hears someone in his house.

This isn’t altogether uncommon. His house is in the middle of the server, and people don’t tend to knock before coming in. Heck, until recently he didn’t even have doors.

It’s not as common anymore, since nobody wants to see him. Even Wilbur hasn’t shown up to bait him into getting stone or something for him in months. It’s been a while of just him.

He walks into the main room to see who it is, and freezes.

Lime-green, white mask.

“Wh-” he chokes on his own panicked wheezes.

The figure turns. “Ah. Hello, TommyInnit,”

That.. isn’t Dream’s voice. Looking at the person again, they’re wearing robes, not a hoodie. Their mask isn’t a smile. They hover slightly above the ground, and twin circular halos ring their head.

That’s not Dream. Tommy has to lean on a wall for support as he almost collapses in relief.

“XD, right?”

XD nods. Maybe Tommy should be a little more nervous that a god just showed up in his house, but he’s met gods before. Drista is an agent of chaos, but she’s not too bad. Plus, he’s heard a little about XD’s adventures with George. He doesn’t sound like the smiting type, so Tommy’s probably okay. He’s still mostly just relieved it isn’t Dream.

“What brings you here?” Tommy asks, because as far as he’s aware, George doesn’t live anywhere near his house.

“I’m bored.”

Okaaaaay.

“I’ve decided to make this your problem,” the god elaborates.

“Oh. Uh, actually, I-”

“The spell will wear off in 48 hours, more or less,” XD says before vanishing.

That wasn’t ominous at all. Tommy has just enough time to make sure he hasn’t been turned into a frog before a flash of light nearly kills him.

He’s pretty sure he’s now blind, and he’s going to go deaf very soon, if the influx of loud shrieks and clamoring voices suddenly everywhere doesn’t stop.

He manages to focus his vision and freezes. There’s a bunch of children running around in his house, maybe six or seven years old. They all look confused and scared, and several are crying loudly.

Tommy looks closer, and decides XD is his least favorite deity. (Hadn’t exile been enough for burning George’s house down? Why does he need further punishment?)

There’s a boy with curly brown hair yelling hysterically as another boy with short, close-shaven hair cries. A girl sits by one of the chests, eyes wide and worried. On top of another chest is a boy with black hair under a beanie, small yellow wings flapping anxiously. A small child warbles, clearly an enderman hybrid, as a piglin hybrid eyes him, oddly calculating for a little kid. On Tommy’s second sweep of the room, he spots a young boy with floppy brown ears and flinty eyes firmly pressed into the shadowiest corner. Their eyes meet and the kid manages to exude an aura more hostile than anyone Tommy’s ever seen.

Okay. Okay.

Tommy tries really hard not to panic because that would not help right now. There are seven little kids in his house, and he’s pretty sure he knows all of them. The yelling and crying is really driving him nuts, but he probably shouldn’t yell. Don’t yell at kids.

Okay. Okay. What can he do to calm them all down?

He slowly edges to his ender chest, grateful it’s only a few steps away. Slowly he pulls out something he planned to never tell anyone he had. Oh well, they clearly don’t have their memories, and they probably won’t remember when the spell wears off.

Tommy crosses his legs on the ground, plucking a few strings on Wilbur’s old guitar. It’s almost impossible to hear over all the noise, but Tommy sees small Niki’s eyes move over to where he is. Progress.

He starts strumming out a song, one of the ones he’s taught himself recently during these lonely months.

“Come rest your bones next to me,” he sings, somewhat self-conscious. He used to sing to the flowers back in L’manburg, but later? Soldiers don’t have time to sing. Still, the noise lessens, so he keeps going.

“And toss all your thoughts to the sea. I’ll pull up each of our anchors, so we can get lost, you and me.” He stops there, as the room goes quiet and seven little faces stare back at him.

“Ah. Hi, I guess. I’m Tommy.”

“Where’s Dad?” demands (oh, this is so weird) tiny Wilbur. “Where’s Phil?”

“I’m supposed to take care of you until we figure this out, okay?” Tommy says, just enough of the truth that it doesn't feel entirely like lying.

“How d’we know you aren’t a bad guy?” asks small Quackity, still perched on the chest.

“Well, Quackity, I’m not really sure how to prove I’m not a bad guy,” Tommy admits. “Can I make you a super big promise that I’m nice?”

“How d’you know my name?” Quackity asks, though more curious than suspicious.

“I’m supposed to look after you for a bit,” Tommy says, seizing the chance to hopefully legitimize himself. “I know all of your names.”

Ranboo makes a small warble, and Tommy turns toward him.

“Hey, Ranboo? Can you understand me?”

Ranboo nods, which greatly relieves him. He really does not want to deal with a kid that doesn’t understand English right now. He probably won’t be able to speak English now, since it’s pretty different vocally from Ender, but at least there’s some communication possible.

Tommy glances around at the other kids. Technoblade has opened one of his chest and that one has a sword in it.

Tommy speeds over there in large steps, quickly closing the chest. Techno flinches at the movement, giving him a panicked look.

“Sorry,” Tommy says, wincing guiltily. “That chest has some things in there that aren’t safe for you to get into.” He faces the little group at large. “Who’s up for a field trip?” he asks, trying to infuse his voice with cheerful energy. By Niki’s cringe he guesses it doesn’t quite work, but Wilbur and Quackity are both enthusiastic enough at the idea to make up for it.

Tommy mentally picks out Las Nevadas as one of the safest places to go. It’s got lots of bright colors and buildings, plus hopefully Quackity won’t be too pissed if he makes a mess. (Better chances than Techno or Jack’s hotel, at any rate.)

He pulls out his comm and messages Puffy, asking her if she could look after Micheal. He gives a barebones account of what’s happened.

He trusts Puffy a good deal, enough with his friends’ kid.

Then he calls Foolish, explains the situation, and asks him for help. Foolish tries to protest, but Tommy hangs up on him.

Quackity calls dibs on piggy-back rights, and Jack dutifully holds one hand. Wilbur claims his other hand, and Niki stands between Ranboo and Technoblade, holding each of their hands. Technoblade very clearly isn’t sure what to think about that.

“Alright, gang, it’s time to go. Keep close.”

Tommy pauses, glancing at Tubbo. He has no idea how to deal with a kid that clearly thinks Tommy’s going to eat him or something and is fully ready to attack him first.

Luckily, Tubbo slinks after them, following up the back of the group. Tommy leads them down a tunnel he’d made to Wilbur’s stone base on the outskirts of Las Nevadas.

As Tommy marches the gaggle into the city, he catches a glimpse of Purpled. He goes to wave somewhat awkwardly, but Purpled starts walking away, mouthing ‘not my problem’ at him as he leaves. Tommy can’t really blame him.

Foolish_Gamers whispers to you: im in the blue-purple building. it’s got a kitchen and living room and a lot of bedrooms. i brought some supplies too.

TommyInnit whispers: POG! ill just drop them off then. have fun

Foolish_Gamers whispers to you: please dont

“Okay, everybody,” Tommy says, leaning down to their level. Quackity slides off his back.

“My friend Foolish is inside, okay? He’s golden with shark clothes. He’s super tall, but I promise he’s very nice. He got some stuff ready for us and he’s gonna help us out.”

Some of the kids nod. Tommy watches Tubbo out of the corner of his eye, but he hasn’t run off yet, so that’s a good sign. He opens the doors and lets the kids in.

Chapter Text

“Roar!” Tommy exclaims, taking care not to be too loud. “You can never beat me!”

Kids, as it turns out, love play-fighting. The sheer joy they get at being tossed around is a lot of fun. Foolish found himself suddenly busy in another room after one of the bolder kids tried to use him as a jungle gym. Coward.

Tommy's having the time of his life, honestly.

“You should try fighting him, Techno!” Wilbur calls from where he lies defeated on the couch after dying dramatically for a full thirty seconds.

Quackity pulls him into the battle, arming him with a pillow as Niki shrieks gleefully as Tommy (gently) flings her onto the couch.

Everything goes fine for about a minute. Technoblade hits hard, fast, and heavy as Quackity and Niki attack from all sides and Wilbur cheers in support from his position on the couch as a corpse.

But then one of the flying pillows knocks Techno over, and when he gets to his feet Tommy notices something off in his eyes.

Suddenly his attacks are even more ferocious, and he starts lashing out with fists. Tommy quickly scoops up Quackity and Niki, depositing them next to Wilbur before grabbing a blanket and pulling it over both him and Techno, draping the two in darkness.

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying to soothe the piglin as he frantically kicks and squirms. Techno once mentioned offhandedly something about fighting rings, and Tommy recalls this as small Technoblade fights like his life depends on it under the blanket.

Clearly pinning him down like this isn’t serving to calm him at all, but none of Tommy’s words are getting through to him.

Then Tommy has an idea.

“Calm down, it’s okay,” Tommy grunts in Piglin, trying his best to mimic the calming chuffs signature to the language.

Techno’s movements slow.

“Nobody’s here to hurt you, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

Techno whimpers, and Tommy recognizes the sound of hurt-fear-help.

“I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, golden one,” Tommy whispers. “Golden one,” is a very affectionate nickname in the Piglin language, usually for children. Tommy remembers hearing Piglin herds he traveled with when he was young say it to their kids. Never to him, of course, he was just some scrappy human kid tagging along through the nether for a bit.

Slowly Techno’s movements slow, and he looks at Tommy in the dim light.

“Safe?” he asks, like he barely dares to believe it.

“Safe,” Tommy grunts in confirmation.

They emerge from the blanket to concern from the other kids. Tommy tries to gently explain the issue in a child-friendly manner in between chuffing as best he can with human vocal chords.

"People made him fight?" Niki asks confusedly.

"Yeah, and it was pretty scary, so maybe he should sit out of the play-fights, okay?"

Wilbur gets up and walks over to Techno determinedly.

"You can be dead with me," he tells him with all the solemnity of a young child. "An' we'll make sure nobody gets hurt, kay?"

Technoblade follows him.

-------------------------------------------

Tommy finds Jack kicking random furniture, looking more tensed up the longer he paces.

He's clearly frustrated and upset, and Tommy can't really blame him. He'd be pretty out of sorts if he suddenly got transported somewhere with no one he knew around him. It's clear Wilbur pushing him was just the last straw in a big pile.

Jack looks equal parts ashamed and challenging when he sees Tommy watching him.

“C’mon, let’s find a screaming room,” Tommy says.

Jack’s brow furrows in confusion, but he follows, a couple other kids tagging along in curiosity.

Tommy finds a room pretty out of the way with thick walls and door and walks inside.

“This can be our screaming room. If everything gets too much, you can come in here and let it all out. May I?” he asks, turning to Jack. Jack nods, though unsure of what he’s granting permission to do.

Tommy steps into the room and screams, loud and high. Jack’s hands clamp over his ears as he stares up at Tommy in shock.

Finally Tommy runs out of air. His throat stings, but he feels like he’s released a breath he’s been holding for a while.

“Your turn, Jack-rabbit. Let’s see what you can do.”

Jack stands where Tommy was and takes a huge breath. He screams with much more power than Tommy expected from such a small body.

Tommy doesn’t need to cover his ears. Years of explosions destroyed any sensitive hearing he may have had.

When Jack runs out of air in his small lungs, he pauses only to drag in another breath before beginning again. Once that is gone, he stops, panting.

“That, my friend, was a spectacular performance,” Tommy comments appreciatively. “You feel any better?”

Jack nods.

"Yeah," he rasps, voice already sounding strained.

“Great. Let’s get some warm drinks for our throats.” Tommy turns to the few others who stand in the doorway, specifically Tubbo, who looks at the newly dubbed screaming room with a glint in his eye. “If you want hot chocolate or tea or something, come down to the kitchen. Please don’t turn anyone deaf, and take turns nicely. If Foolish comes over, please let him know you aren’t dying. Thanks.”

With that, Jack and Tommy head back to the kitchen, muffled cathartic screaming coming through the thick door.

"What is going on up there?" Foolish asks frantically.

"Therapy."

Foolish sighs.

"Sure, why not."

He walks away, muttering something that sounds a lot like "Why would anyone leave an ex-war god and a teenager soldier in charge of children? Who's idea was this?"

Tommy snickers.

"That man has a very fragile mind," he tells Jack mock-seriously.

Jack nods.

"I want hot chocolate," he informs Tommy.

"A fine and respectable choice."

Ranboo vwoops.

"Excellently said, Ran Man."

Chapter Text

It’s a terrible noise, like a child’s shrill scream combined with an unearthly shriek. It sets off every conflicting instinct in Tommy’s body and floods him with adrenaline.

Ignoring the part of him screaming to run from the noise, he charges back into the kitchen. Ranboo is screaming, jaw unhinged like a snake. He keeps moving his hand as if to cover his forearm before hissing and pulling away, and steaming tears are streaming down his face. He’s near the sink with the water running, and Tommy realizes instantly what’s happened.

Without thinking, Tommy yanks off his bandanna and rushes forward. He quickly presses it down on the large splotch of water on Ranboo’s forearm, the fabric immediately soaking up the liquid. When most of it is gone, Tommy folds the bandanna and holds the driest part under Ranboo’s eyes, catching the tears before they burn his face.

Ranboo is still sobbing and shrieking in pain, and Tommy winces at the large burn on his arm.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, Ran Man,” he murmurs, spewing meaningless comforts as he tries to keep his frantic nerves out of his voice.

He catches Jack’s eye, looking worried and upset. Several of the others have begun crying themselves, or are covering their ears.

“Do you think you could find Foolish for me?” Tommy says softly. “Please ask him to get regen potions and magma cream, okay?”

Jack nods, determination overtaking panic on his small face.

“You remember all that?”

Nod.

“Okay. Wil-bear, could you help Jack find Foolish?”

Wilbur nods enthusiastically. His smile dims as his eyes flit over Ranboo.

“Is he okay?” the boy asks worriedly.

“He’s hurt, but we’re gonna fix him up. I just need Foolish to grab some things to help.”

Wilbur nods, assured, and hurries with Jack to track down Foolish.

Tommy keeps trying to soothe Ranboo. The tears keep coming, and the bandana isn’t the thickest of fabrics.

A small hand appears in the corner of his eye, holding a washcloth.

“I found it in a cabinet,” Niki says solemnly, offering it to him.

“Thanks,” Tommy says with a relieved exhale, replacing the bandanna with the thick, soft washcloth. “You’re a lifesaver, Miss Niki.”

Niki grins at the praise, though it’s somewhat subdued by the circumstances.

Tommy dabs the bandana at the still-hissing wound, hoping to mop up any water he missed before.

Eventually Ranboo’s sobs slow, and Tommy breathes a small sigh of relief when his bone-chilling shrieks subside.

“Tommy!” calls a high-pitched voice. Tommy twists his head to see Wilbur running toward him, Jack dragging Foolish by the hand behind him.

“Is Ranboo okay?” Foolish asks as he hands over the supplies Tommy requested.

“He’ll be fine,” Tommy responds, dipping the washcloth into the regeneration potion. “Ranboo, I need to put some of this on your arm, alright? It’ll make it feel better, but it might sting a little. Is that okay?”

Ranboo bites his lip and looks at Tommy before steeling himself and nodding.

“You’re very brave,” Tommy praises as he gently starts dabbing the cloth on the boy’s arm. Ranboo hisses a little at the pain, but stops in amazement as the burn begins to slowly fade.

“There we go,” Tommy says, more to himself than anything. “Okay, I’m gonna put some burn cream on it now, and then we’ll bandage it, alright?” Ranboo nods. “Foolish, could you dab the cloth under his eyes a bit? He’s got some burns there.”

Foolish takes the cloth from him and starts working on the tear tracks as Tommy opens the tub of cream and starts rubbing some in on the faded burn, wincing in sympathy every time Ranboo whimpers in pain.

Once he finishes, he gets some bandages out of his inventory and wraps the wound.

“There we go, Ran Man,” Tommy says, stepping back with a flourish, “Good as new.”

Now that the crisis has been taken care of, Tommy takes a head count. Wilbur and Jack are both still with Foolish, and Niki is rummaging through a cabinet. Quackity is crawling under a table, looking stressed but better now that it’s over.

Techno is sitting on the couch, eyes scrunched shut and hands clamped over his ears. Tubbo has pressed himself into a corner, eyes flicking around in the shadows.

Tommy has no idea how to convince Tubbo he’s trustworthy, so he moves to Techno.

“Hey, golden one,” Tommy says in clumsy Piglin, slowly sitting on the couch. Techno can’t hear while he covers his ears, so Tommy tries to use the movement of the couch as it bends under his weight to subtly alert Techno to his presence. As expected, Techno’s eyes snap up, alert and braced for whatever might happen.

“It’s okay,” Tommy’s quick to say, struggling to remember the best way to convey comfort without the chuffs signature to Piglin vocal cords. “You’re safe. Ranboo got hurt, but he’s okay now.”

Techno nods, but he still looks a little shaky. Tommy holds out his hand in offering, and Techno takes it trepidatiously.

Something grabs Tommy’s leg, but he doesn’t flinch. He looks down to see Quackity gripping his leg like a stubborn squirrel. He grins.

“Hey, Lil Q. What’cha up to?”

“I wanna learn it,” Quackity informs him.

“Learn what?”

“What you’re speakin’ with Techno.”

“You want to learn Piglin?” Techno asks disbelievingly.

“Yeah, so we can talk together,” Quackity declares, clambering up onto Tommy’s lap to get to the same level as Technoblade.

Techno looks a bit nervous, but Tommy can see something brighten in his eyes at the idea that someone wants to learn his language.

“I can teach you Spanish, too!” Quackity says excitedly.

“Sounds like a plan,” Tommy says. “I’ll go check on the others, you two have fun. Play nice.” He looks at Techno and says “If you need me, come find me, okay?”

Techno nods slightly before Quackity immediately starts talking a mile a minute. Tommy holds back a chuckle as he retreats, looking at Technoblade’s bemused and lost expression trying to keep up with what Quackity’s saying.

“Hey, Boss Man, how’s it going?” he asks Tubbo, whose face is guarded and unyielding. “Techno and Quackity are teaching each other Spanish and Piglin. You could join them if you’d like,” Tommy offers, knowing how much Tubbo truly loves learning new things. He also figures he’ll feel a lot safer with kids his age than Tommy right now.

Tubbo eyes him, unmoving, and Tommy shrugs casually and walks toward the others. He spots Tubbo hesitantly creeping over to Techno and Quackity, though, so he considers it a success. Point one for TommyInnit.

Tommy needs all the points he can get. It's been going relatively well so far, but Tommy's just waiting for when he screws it up like he's screwed up everything in his life.

Chapter Text

“What’s that on your neck?” Quackity asks, and Tommy realizes he never put his bandana back on. Still, it isn’t meant to be rude, kids are just blunt. It’s kind of refreshing, really.

“It’s a scar,” Tommy tells Q as he scoots closer to look. “Sometimes when people get hurt they don’t heal all the way, and it makes marks like this one.”

“It looks like a star,” Niki comments, peering at it.

Quackity reaches up his hand and pokes it.

He doesn’t do it hard, but it catches Tommy off guard, and that’s all the memories need.

Tommy pushes his chair back as he dissolves into panic, reality floating away from him. Maybe he falls off, he doesn’t know, because there’s an arrow sticking out of his neck and he’s sinking into the water. Tommy’s vision dims at the edges as blood clouds the water. He failed, he failed, he missed his shot. He sinks, and he dies. He can hear Wilbur shouting, Dream saying something, but it's all muffled. He can't breathe, and he doesn't know if it's because he's underwater or because his throat has just been punctured. It hurts. It hurts a lot, and his chest still aches from where a sword had been driven into it not even two hours ago. He's dying. He doesn't want to die, but he's dying.

There’s something hard beneath him. He focuses on it, bringing himself out of the water. He can hear yelling. The voices sound young. The kids, he thinks distantly, urgently, but first he needs to focus on getting himself back to solid ground. Tommy blinks open his eyes (when did he close them?) to see blurry images and light.

A small Tubbo is standing with his back to him, yelling something.

“Back off! Back off!”

“Tubbo?” Tommy mumbles, trying to restart his brain.

Tubbo whirls around.

Tommy realizes he’s curled into a ball and slowly brings himself into a more comfortable sitting position. Tubbo’s holding a knife, which Tommy should probably be concerned about, but then Tubbo crashes into him, knife clattering to the ground.

“Hey,” Tommy says softly and a bit confused. “It’s okay.”

He gently puts his arms around him, careful not to trap him.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry for scaring you,” he tells him.

Quackity’s pale face catches his eye, and Tommy holds out a hand towards him. The kid bursts into tears, grabbing the hand and ducking under Tommy’s arm.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, and Tommy’s quick to calm him.

“It’s okay, Lil Q. It’s not your fault, it’s okay.”

Tommy carefully stands, supporting Tubbo. The kid makes no move to let go, so Tommy carries him to the living room, still holding Quackity’s hand.

He sits on the biggest couch, and all the kids end up perched around him.

“What happened?” Jack asks, little eyes wide.

“Sometimes-” Tommy says, choosing his words carefully. He doesn’t really know much about freakouts and brain stuff, but he shares what he can. “Sometimes when people go through scary things, they don’t just get scars on their body. Sometimes they get them in their brain, too. I got hurt here,” Tommy carefully taps his scar, “and my brain remembers that. So when something happens that reminds my brain of when I got hurt there, sometimes it thinks it’s back in that moment, and it freaks out a little bit.”

“I’m sorry,” Quackity whispers.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know that was going to happen. I didn’t either. Sometimes it just happens.”

Tubbo shifts slightly under his arm.

“Thank you for looking after me, Tubbo,” Tommy says. “Maybe don’t use a knife next time, but I really appreciate it.”

Tubbo shifts again, expression bashful as he turns away so Tommy can’t see it. It hits Tommy what’s happening. Tubbo’s hugging him. Tubbo, who’d been so scared and mistrustful this whole time. Yeah, it’s probably because it’s hard to look like a threat when you’re having a panic attack, and it’s not like he looked that threatening to begin with (malnourished, scrappy teen with scruffy clothes) but still.

“I got you,” Tommy murmurs, rubbing his shoulder gently as he scoots Quackity closer.

Chapter Text

“A story?”

“Pleaaaase?” Wilbur wheedles.

There’s many stories Tommy could tell. Ones he’s heard in village taverns, or long nights by a traveling fire. He could even tell stories of ruffled blue uniforms and a belief enough to survive war, or of twin music discs and the battles tied to it.

After a moment, Tommy decides on the story he’s never been able to force from his lips, altered enough for both the kids and him.

“There once,” Tommy begins, “was a raccoon. He lived in a meadow near a river, with forest all around him. Many animals lived there, from deer to birds to frogs and squirrels. Now, this raccoon was somewhat of a bad raccoon.”

“Why’s he a bad raccoon?” Niki asks.

“I’m not sure, but all the animals said he was, so maybe he must’ve been. The raccoon was loud, and annoying, and he liked pulling pranks and taking things that weren’t his. He acted like everybody loved him, even when he knew most animals didn’t like him.”

Tommy takes a breath. “One day, the raccoon finally went too far. He wanted to prank the badger that lived in a cave decorated with mushrooms. He snuck into his burrow and started writing in the dirt walls with his claw. He wrote jokes and insulted the mushrooms. Then, as he scratched particularly deep, the burrow started collapsing. The raccoon ran out just in time for the whole thing to cave in.”

Ranboo warbles worriedly.

“For all the other animals, this was the final straw. They came together, and it was decided the raccoon would be ex-” Tommy can't make himself say it, “-banished. He was taken to a field away from the meadow, through the forest. They told him he needed to stay there, that he couldn’t go home.”

“It was an accident, though, right?” Wilbur says, brow furrowed.

“Yes. The raccoon didn’t tell anyone it was an accident, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone knew the raccoon was a liar. And nobody trusts a liar, even when they tell the truth.”

“Oh.”

“With the raccoon came his brother, the dragonfly. The dragonfly was silly sometimes, and easily confused. He tended to forget anything sad. He thought they were on vacation, and everytime the raccoon told him they weren’t, he forgot it again. Still, the dragonfly was better than being alone, so the raccoon was glad. He got visitors, too, every once and a while. But as time went by, animals slowly stopped visiting. Even the dragonfly would leave for longer and longer amounts of time, gone to see the meadow where everyone else was. Then, there was the toad.”

Tommy leans in close, looking around in an exaggeratedly furtive way. “Can I tell you a secret?”

The kids nod as one.

“The toad was very mean. He didn’t like the raccoon at all, and wanted to make him sad. But the raccoon didn’t know that.”

“Wouldn’t he act mean, if he was mean?”

“He did act mean. He was very mean, and he’d say mean things all the time. The toad would make the raccoon feel silly and small and sad.”

“If he acted mean, didn’t the raccoon know he was mean? Why didn’t he just tell him to go away?” Jack asks.

“He couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because of the other secret.”

“What other secret?” Niki whispers.

“The raccoon acted very tough and brave all the time. He was very loud, and always said he wasn’t scared of anything. But the truth is,” Tommy lets himself get caught up in the dramatics and tries to forget who the raccoon represents, who he is.

“He was scared. He was scared of a lot of things, but the thing that scared him most of all? Being alone. He needed someone, anyone at all. So when the toad ate all the raccoon’s food and left him very hungry, the raccoon let him. When the toad bossed the raccoon around and made up all sorts of rules, the raccoon did what he wanted. When the toad said mean things, really, really mean things, the raccoon didn’t say anything. Because whenever the raccoon did something the toad didn’t like, the toad would leave. The toad would leave, and then the raccoon would be all alone for so long. Nobody to talk to, nobody to see. He could scream as loud as he could, and nobody would hear him.”

Ranboo warbles, looking upset. Techno hesitantly takes his clawed hand into his own, and Ranboo rests his head on Techno’s. Tommy smiles at the slightly panicked look on Technoblade’s face, glad for a small distraction.

“Sometimes the raccoon wished he could be like the dragonfly. The dragonfly was always happy, because he never remembered anything sad. The raccoon wanted to just remember happy things. He didn’t want to remember how lonely he was. He didn’t want to remember how angry his best friend looked when he was banished. He didn’t want to remember all the mean things the toad said, the mean things everyone had said before he was banished. Nobody said mean things about the dragonfly. Everyone liked the dragonfly, because he was happy and gentle. And some days the raccoon wondered what it would be like, if he was a dragonfly.”

It’s the closest Tommy has ever been to voicing his darkest thoughts aloud.

“One day, the raccoon had an idea. He had been very lonely, even with the toad visiting. The toad told him none of the other animals missed him, that they were all so much happier without him. The raccoon thought the toad must be right, since barely anyone else visited. So the raccoon thought, maybe he could throw a party. All the other animals liked parties, so maybe they would come, and the raccoon could see them. He could make cake and decorations.”

“I like parties,” Quackity comments. Tommy smiles. He knows. Quackity’s invitation, written in painstaking cursive, flashes in his mind. He forces the image away.

“The raccoon wrote out invitations for every animal in the meadow, and asked the dragonfly to deliver them. The dragonfly flew off into the forest to deliver the invitations. But then, suddenly, the toad trapped the dragonfly in a jar!”

Several shocked gasps come out of Tommy’s captive audience. Even Tubbo’s head lifts up from Tommy’s shoulder, where Tommy had been half-convinced he was asleep.

“The toad took all the invitations and hid them.”

“Why would he do that?” Jack asks, aghast .

Tommy doesn’t respond. They’ll see soon enough.

“The day of the party arrived. The raccoon couldn’t sleep all night, he was so excited. He got up bright and early and waited, watching the trees at the edge of the field. Hours went by, and no one had arrived yet. The toad showed up, and acted surprised when he was the only one.

‘Are you sure the dragonfly delivered all the invitations?’ the raccoon asked.

‘I saw him do it myself,” said the toad. “I guess no one wanted to come.’

The raccoon looked around at his little party, with decorations and cake and enough chairs for everyone, and he realized the toad was right. Nobody wanted to see him, even for a party. Not even the dragonfly, who loved everyone, wanted to come.”

Tommy stops, voice trembling ever so slightly. The day of the party had been one of the worst in his life.

“He stole the invitations, though!” Niki cries indignantly.

“Yeah, but the raccoon doesn’t know that,” Jack points out. He stops. “Oh. That’s why. That’s really mean.”

“What? What’s he doing?” Quackity asks, confused and a bit distressed.

“The toad took the invitations so nobody would know about the party. And then nobody came, and now the raccoon thinks it’s cause they don’t wanna come. But they couldn’t come, because they didn’t get the invitations. But the toad lied and said they all got the invitations,” Jack explains in rambled words.

Quackity gapes.

“That’s awful!” he exclaims in outrage. His face falls. “And now the raccoon is super sad.”

“This isn’t the end, don’t worry,” Wilbur says to the other kids. “Stories have happy endings. Right?” he asks, looking up at Tommy with big eyes.

And Tommy-

There wasn’t really a happy ending for exile. He got out, but he got out alone, and with everything that followed, there was no real happy ending.

“Of course,” Tommy says. Without really thinking about it, he begins telling instead the story of what he wished had happened. “Just when the raccoon felt completely hopeless, he saw something in the trees. He thought it must just be a trick of his eyes, but then it appeared again. And then they came! All the animals, even the ones that didn’t like him, came out from the trees.”

“How did they know?” Niki asks, eyes wide. “

It was-” Tommy reaches for an explanation. “The dragonfly! He pushed on his jar so hard it fell and broke, and then he flew so, so fast, all the way to the meadow. He told all the other animals about the party and what the toad did, and they all came. The party was big and loud and so much fun, and the raccoon was really, really happy for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t alone anymore. And they told him the toad was a liar, because they did care. They all cared about him, and that’s why they came. They missed him, and they wanted him to come home. So the raccoon came home, and he was happy. The end.”

Dream had been cruel. Tommy knows that so, so very well. Sam, Puffy, even Technoblade had all told him Dream wasn’t his friend when they learned a few details about exile. But no one had ever told him Dream had lied about everything else. Dream was never his friend, but maybe everything else had been the truth, that nobody cared about him at all.

He doesn't believe it, most days.

Most days.

Chapter Text

“Your guitar is cool.”

“Thanks.” Tommy doesn’t look up from where he’s tuning it but he tilts his head to show he’s listening.

“I wanna get a guitar, but Phil says I need to wait ‘till I’m older.”

“What a jerk,” Tommy says mildly.

“How’d you learn?”

“My brother taught me. This is his guitar.”

“You’ve got a brother?” Wilbur asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ve always wanted a brother,” Wilbur says, flopping on the couch.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s just me ‘n Phil. An’ he’s old.”

Tommy hides an amused smile.

“What’s your brother like?”

Tommy thinks about the question. How to describe him?

“He doesn’t always act like he feels.”

Wilbur tilts his head confusedly.

“When I was younger, he’d act happy and excited, when he was really tired. And then he acted like he was confident and knew everything, but actually he was super stressed and busy. And now he’s mean a lot, but I think he’s just pretending because he’s all hurt and scared.”

“Oh.”

That got a little deep for a kid. Time to change strategy.

“He’s tall, with brown hair.”

“Like me?”

“Yep. And it’s a bit curly like yours too, but his is longer. He likes wearing long coats. He smokes a lot, and it smells gross.”

“Smoking’s bad for you,” Wilbur informs him.

“I know!” Tommy laughs. “I keep telling him that, but he doesn’t listen to me. One time, I threw water on him, and it put out his cigarette.”

Wilbur giggles.

“He looked like a wet cat, all dripping and mad. Like this-” Tommy scrunches his nose into a disgruntled expression and Wilbur’s giggles increase.

“I wish I had a brother,” Wilbur sighs. “It’d be so fun.”

“I could be your brother, if you want,” Tommy offers. He doesn’t know why he does, except that he hates seeing the kid look sad. (And hearing Wilbur say that, even small and young, makes something in Tommy twinge.)

“Really?!?” Wilbur gasps, rocketing up.

“I haven't always been the best brother, but I promise I’ll try.”

“I get a brother?” Wilbur whispers over him, sounding disbelieving and delighted.

Tommy picks up Wilbur by his ankle, slinging him over his shoulder. Wilbur shrieks.

“C’mon, bro, let’s go harass Foolish.”

Wilbur cheers, face already reddening from the blood rushing to his head.

They run into Niki, who gleefully joins them. Tommy kneels down regally to help Niki onto his shoulders. He stands, Niki clinging to his head and Wilbur still dangling from his ankles down Tommy’s back like a giggling cape.

Quackity joins their crusade, clinging to Tommy’s leg. He gets Technoblade to grab the other one, considerably slowing their progress. By the time Tommy realizes Foolish might no longer be the target, Jack’s plowing into him.

He makes a big show of falling slowly, giving Niki ample time to slide off and the rest of the kids to get out of the way. He takes Wilbur and Jack down with him, though, squishing them both under his gangly frame.

“Ge’off ‘f us!” Jack’s voice is muffled.

“Man, the carpet sure is lumpy today,” Tommy comments to himself, returning Quackity’s grin as he realizes what’s happening. Tommy shifts, causing shrieks from under him. “And loud too. Technoblade, my good friend, come help me press the lumps out.”

When Techno blinks, Tommy stage-whispers in Piglin.

“We’re going to squish them more. Don’t worry,” Tommy adds, correctly interpreting Techno’s suppressed flinch, “it won’t hurt them, I’ll make sure.”

Quackity takes Techno’s hand, Niki on his other side, and they all flop on Tommy, getting a groan from him and more yelps from below.

“Tommy, you jerk!” Wilbur yells. “Get o-ff!”

Eventually Tommy rolls off, making sure to roll over as many small children as he can before he pulls himself to his feet.

Wilbur’s face is flushed and excited. Tommy gives him a second to peel himself off the floor before he charges. Wilbur squeals and runs for it.

“I suggest,” Tommy says in a mock-dangerous tone, looking at the rest of the kids, “You follow his lead.”

The others sprint off with no further prompting. Techno stays behind, a bit nervously.

“I wanna play,” he says. “I just-”

Tommy gets it. There’s so many things he struggles doing nowadays, just because they mess with his newly fragile brain.

“Climb on,” Tommy offers, leaning down. “You can help me spot them.”

They find Wilbur easily- shrieking when they enter the room he’s in isn’t a great hiding strategy. Wilbur is swiftly and ruthlessly tickled until he begs for mercy.

“Now help me find the others,” Tommy mock-growls, sounding like a poor imitation of Batman.

“I'll never help you!”

Tommy tickles him again.

He lets up after a while, and Wilbur gasps for air.

“Are you ready to sell out your friends?” Tommy demands.

“Never!” Wilbur declares.

Tommy’s.. almost touched. Wilbur’s fierce protectiveness and loyalty had been so strong in L’manburg, clearly he’s possessed it since a young age. It twinges something in his heart.

“Alright!” Tommy yells out. “Surrender yourselves, or Wilbur gets it!”

“No, don’t!” Wilbur yelps.

Techno taps the side of Tommy’s head nervously, and Tommy pauses to reassure him that it’s just a game, nobody’s going to hurt each other.

“You leave Wilbur alone!” Niki declares, charging into the room with Quackity on her heels.

“Oh look, Wil-bear,” Tommy croons in a faux-menacing tone, “Your little friends have come to save you.”

“No,” Wilbur gasps, theater kid from the beginning, apparently. He plays his role expertly.

“Run!” he yells. “Save yourselves.”

“We’re not leaving you, Wilbur!” Quackity cries. “Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind!”

“Or forgotten,” Niki adds.

“Well, yeah, but we aren’t gonna forget him. That’s for old people, like my granddad.”

“Or Phil!” Wilbur chimes in.

Tommy takes advantage of their distraction to snatch Quackity, tickling him. Quackity shrieks with all the force of someone actually being tortured.

“Leave him alone!” Wilbur yells, overcoming any fear of being tickled himself in order to assist his friend.

Tommy’s too occupied trying to hold both boys down and tickle them at the same time to notice Niki’s near-silent communication with Techno. Suddenly Techno’s hands come down over his eyes, blinding him.

Tommy lets out a yell of (slightly) exaggerated surprise.

“What’s happening? Who turned out the lights?”

Several pairs of little hands shove him from where he kneels by the couch all the way to the ground, lying on his stomach. Tommy feels them all sit on his back, pinning him down.

“Betrayal?” he hisses. “From my own minion?”

“Your days of tyranny are over!” Wilbur declares. “Welcome to the team, Techno!”

Tommy wonders idly whether ‘tyranny’ is in a normal seven year old’s vocabulary. He doubts it, which then raises the question of where Wilbur learned it. Books, maybe. Kids usually know how to read by that age, right? He doesn’t really have a frame of reference, since he grew up on the streets with nobody to teach him. He’s lucky he even ended up learning to read at all.

“What’s going on in here?”

“We saved Wilbur!” Quackity cheers.

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Tommy was the bad guy, and he caught Wilbur, so we saved him!” Niki explains.

Foolish is definitely amused. It seems the kids are growing on him a little.

“Are you the other bad guy?” Techno asks.

“Nope! I’m good, super not-evil,” Foolish says quickly. “I’m gonna go set up some coloring sheets for anybody who’s not going to tackle me. Have fun!”

Okay, maybe he’s not that ready to deal with seven hyperactive children. Go figure.

Jokes on him, though, because Tommy’s obviously the favorite.

(That’s a first. Half of these kids hate Tommy normally, and the other half barely tolerates him. He’s gotta enjoy this while he can before they all remember why they don’t like him.)

Tommy grins.

“Who wants to play hide-and-seek?”

Tubbo, who’s just wandered into the room, looks up, eyes glinting dangerously.

Oh yeah. This is gonna be a blast.

Chapter Text

Ranboo warbles something.

“What’s up, Ran Man?” Tommy asks, looking down at him.

Brow furrowed in concentration, Ranboo warbles again.

“Ꞇອᛗᛗƴ”

Tommy freezes.

“What was that?”

“Ꞇອᛗᛗƴ!”

“Tommy?”

“Ꞇອᛗᛗƴ!” Ranboo exclaims.

Tommy’s this close to breaking out in tears. His eyes are incredibly watery.

“You learned how to say my name?” he gets out, voice breaking and several octaves higher than normal.

“Ꞇອᛗᛗƴ” Ranboo beams, jaw unhinged but still adorable.

Tommy swoops him into a hug without really thinking.

“Here,” he says, pulling a specific purple flower from his inventory, “I’ve got something for you.”

Ranboo takes the allium, fascinated by the many tiny petals.

Tommy is ridiculously touched. Thank Prime they probably won’t remember, because he would never live down being all nice and mushy around boob boy. He does love Ranboo, teen or anklebiter, but he’s got a reputation to maintain.

Frick, the kid’s adorable though. Ranboo hums to himself, sounding almost like a purr through his Enderman vocal cords.

Tommy finds Niki flopped on the floor in front of the couch, feet stretched up in the air.

“Hey, Miss Niki. How goes it?”

“I’m bored,” Niki sighs, throwing her hands up pointedly.

“Hi bored. I thought you were Niki.”

Niki’s face screws up in disgust.

“I thought you were better than that,” she tells him disapprovingly.

Tommy’s never felt so ashamed of himself.

Properly chastised, Tommy changes the subject.

“What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno,” Niki whines. “If I did, I’d be doing that!”

“Alright then.”

Tommy spins Ranboo around a few times, much to his delight, then sets him on the ground.

“Go have fun, kay? See if Jack’s still coloring with Foolish.”

Ranboo walks off, chirping happily to himself. Hands free, Tommy throws Niki over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Maybe not potatoes, actually, they kinda make Tommy want to throw up after Pogtopia and the prison. Carrots, then. Carrots are good.

“Where’re we going?” Niki asks.

“We,” Tommy says, adjusting his grip, “Are gonna make cookies. If you want, of course,” he adds, since just because Niki likes baking when she’s older doesn’t mean she’ll want to now.

“I love cookies!” Niki cheers, voice wobbling in time with Tommy’s stride.

“Wonderful,” he says, setting her down on the ground. “We are going to make the best cookies ever, Miss Niki, and when people come to eat our cookies- and oh people will come, in lines all the way down to Nebraska- they will weep with joy and sadness that they will never again taste something so delicious.”

Niki giggles, fueling Tommy’s rambles.

“And then they will ask ‘Who made these fantastic cookies, tell us so we can give them all our riches and cows’, and I will say ‘I, Tommyinnit, made these cookies- with the help of my assistant Miss Niki, of course- and I want all of your money and also your-“

Niki cuts off his rant.

“I’m not gonna be your assistant! You’re gonna be my assistant,” she informs him.

“Of course, of course. I will tell them, ‘These cookies are made by me, Tommyinnit the incredible, as an assistant to Miss Niki, the greatest of bakers, Queen among mortals, baker extraordinaire’ and their heads will simply combust.”

“Combust?”

“It means explode. They will be so in awe of our combined pogness that their poor little minds won’t be able to handle it. And then we will take all their money and buy so many dru- I mean apples,” Tommy corrects hastily, just barely remembering he’s speaking to a small child. Don’t get him wrong- he fully plans on corrupting Micheal, but this feels a little different.

“Are we gonna make the cookies or not?”

“Right, right,” Tommy says, bringing himself back to the task at hand. “I definitely know how to make cookies.”

“I don’t think that’s something people who actually know how to make cookies say,” Niki comments from the counter she’s climbed onto.

“I’ll have you know I am a wonderful baker. Just need to find a recipe here somewhere……. There!” A cookbook on a high shelf.

Tommy flips until he finds the chocolate chip cookie recipe.

“Alright. This kitchen is unnecessarily massive, so we’re both gonna have to look to find the ingredients. Can you read?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. You look low, I’ll look high. Let’s see who finds flour first. Ready, set, go!”

Niki starts slamming cabinets open.

“You lose points if you break anything!” Tommy quickly adds.

“That’s dumb.”

Tommy is becoming a fun represser, not a fun haver. This cannot stand. He’s forgetting his crime boy roots under the stress of sudden parent(?)hood.

“You can’t break anything glass,” Tommy amends. “That could hurt you. It's fine if you break the cabinets, they aren’t mine.”

“Whose are they?” Niki asks from fully inside a large cabinet. It’s under the sink, so it probably just has cleaning supplies and pipes, but Tommy’s not telling her that. (Yes, he is being competitive, so what?)

“This place belongs to a friend of mine, but if anything breaks he probably deserves it after the whole thing with him and my brother, so it’s all good.”

“What thing with your brother?”

Tommy rolls his eyes just thinking about it. He’s not actually all that mad about that day Quackity and Wilbur both screamed at each other and him over stupid alliances and Las Nevadas and safety. It hurt, don’t get him wrong, and it still does, but Tommy’s sick and tired of getting mad over things nobody’s ever gonna apologize for. He cares about Quackity, so he’s gonna forgive him. (Still, if a few cabinets get busted by the end of this, Q has it coming.)

“I found flour!” Niki crows. Tommy groans in disappointment, sinking to the floor.

“Just be better next time,” she says.

The cookies end up pretty good, if a teensy bit overcooked. Niki, as the baker, gets first pick. Quackity is quick to snatch his, immediately whining in pain at the unexpected heat.

“I told you they were still hot, moron,” Tommy says affectionately. He starts wrapping the cookies in napkins to preserve small fingers. Ranboo warbles at the cookies in confusion, but seems to enjoy his when he bites into it.

“I want that one,” Tubbo says, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest like he expects Tommy to react negatively.

“Sure thing, boss man.” It’s a sheer sign of the progress they’ve made that Tubbo only looks like he thinks the cookie is poisoned for a second before biting into it.

“How’d you learn to make cookies?” Jack asks, crumbs spewing out of his mouth.

“A.. friend taught me. She- um. She was sort of my family.”

“Sort of?”

“Yeah. I- don’t have a mom or a dad or stuff like that, but I had this group of friends, and we were like a family, even if we weren’t actually related.”

“That’s cool! So maybe I could get a sister or brother or something, even if I don’t have one now?” Quackity chirps.

“Yeah, sure.”

“What happened?”

Tommy turns to look at Technoblade, whose eyebrows are furrowed.

“Aey?”

“You said your friends were like your family.”

Ah.

They hate me. They don’t want anything to do with me. The home we loved was destroyed. They’ve all moved on, I’m the only one who’s still clinging to what we used to be.

“Things just didn’t work out.”

Foolish is kind enough not to comment from where he sits with his cookie, carefully keeping any crumbs from spilling.

“Oh. That’s sad.”

“Yeah.” Tommy forces a smile. “But it’s okay. Alright, anybody want another cookie? There’s enough for seconds!”

The kids cheer enthusiastically.

It’s late. Tommy can’t sleep, as per usual. Masks and explosions and sheer, crushing darkness dance behind his eyes whenever they close.

Tommy finds himself pacing, checking each of the guest rooms. Foolish went to sleep in his own employee room, but he’s nice enough to answer Tommy’s message (if a keysmash counts as an answer) before presumably falling back asleep.

Wilbur claimed Jack, who didn’t much seem to care either way. Jokes on Wilbur, though, because Jack is spread-eagle in the dead center of the bed. Though, as Tommy looks closer, it seems tiny Wilbur is a sleep-cuddler. It’s pretty adorable, Wilbur’s arms wrapped around Jack’s torso as the latter’s limbs are askew.

Something deep inside Tommy pangs at the comfortable domestic warmth of the scene. He’s always wanted something like that.

They’re safe. Safe and content and happy. That’s all that matters.

Tommy moves on.

Technoblade is rooming with Quackity. Tommy can’t help the smile whenever he thinks about it. It’s just so ironically amusing.

Techno’s brow is furrowed as he makes small, nervous noises in his sleep. Quackity sits next to him, whispering his name worriedly.

“Hey,” Tommy whispers, and Quackity turns to look at him, large eyes filled with concern and exhaustion.

“I woke up, and he’s-” Quackity gestures.

“He’s having a nightmare.”

“Well duh,” Quackity snaps quietly. “I figured that part out.”

Fair enough.

“It’s okay, Lil Q, go back to sleep. There isn’t really anything we can do to stop him having nightmares, so just get some rest. He’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure? He looks scared.”

“I’m sure,” Tommy says softly, tucking Quackity into bed as the kid yawns. He edges over towards Technoblade.

“Golden one. You are safe here. There is no danger.”

Tommy keeps murmuring until Techno bolts upright, eyes wide and scared.

“You’re safe. You’re safe. It’s okay, golden one, you’re safe.”

Techno’s breathing calms and he lies back down, passing out immediately.

“What does that mean?”

“What?”

Quackity clumsily mimics a Piglin phrase.

“It means safety. You’re safe.”

“You’re safe,” Quackity repeats.

“Yeah. Alright, go to bed, okay?”

“Okay.”

Tommy pauses for a second. Gently, hesitantly, he reaches out and brushes his hand along Quackity’s forehead. He’d seen Wilbur do it a few times when Fundy was young, little touches, gentle gestures.

They’d always seemed so foreign to Tommy, who was brash and loud. Any affection he showed was rough and enthusiastic, shoulder bumps and high-fives and tackling Jack for fun.

He’s never been soft, but for a moment, he pretends. Because Quackity deserves something gentle. He’s so hardened and burned by what he’s gone through, acting like he’s untouchable, like Tommy doesn’t know exactly how much pain he’s in. Because this kid deserves it, worried about another kid he just met, trying to learn his language just to help him. Kind and goofy and wholly Quackity.

When Tommy leaves, something aching he can only describe as love burning in his chest, he sees Quackity take Techno’s hand in his own, holding it tightly.

Niki is sleeping with Ranboo, both curled up on their own sides. Ranboo shivers slightly, Niki having stolen the blankets in her sleep. Tommy finds another blanket in a closet and carefully drapes it over the sleeping enderman-hybrid. He smiles at the bundle of blankets on the other side of the bed.

Tubbo insisted on having his own room. It’s dark when Tommy carefully eases the door open.

There’s no one in the bed.

Tommy shuts the door slowly, trying to calm himself down. Maybe he got up to use the bathroom. It’s fine.

There’s a light on in the living room, and Tommy breathes a sigh of relief.

Tubbo sits curled up in a chair, knees to his chest.

“Hey,” Tommy says, softly to not startle him. Tubbo jumps anyway, then scowls.

“Sorry. You alright?”

“Yeah,” Tubbo says shortly, crossing his arms.

“Can’t sleep?”

Tubbo nods reluctantly.

“Me neither,” Tommy says, sitting down on a couch across from Tubbo’s chair.

It’s quiet for a while.

Tubbo mumbles something.

“Huh? Didn’t catch that, boss man.”

“I get scary dreams,” Tubbo admits, scowling down at his knees.

Oh, Tubbo.

“I get scary dreams too.”

“You do?”

“Yep. What do you dream about?”

Tubbo frowns. “Scary people.”

“Yeah?” Tommy asks softly.

“Yeah. They hurt me, when I’m dreaming.”

That twists at something deep inside Tommy. He had his suspicions before, but..

He’s furious. He stomps it down, aware that’s not what Tubbo needs right now, but he’s never been good at hiding his anger. Tubbo scoots away from him a bit, and Tommy’s heart pangs.

“I’m not mad at you,” he’s quick to say.

“But you are mad.”

“Yeah. I’m mad that somebody hurt you.”

Tubbo folds his arms across his chest.

“It’s just a dream.”

Tommy doesn’t push it.

“Even if it’s just a dream.”

“You’re mad at my dreams?”

“Maybe,” Tommy says, lips twitching at the ridiculousness of it. Tubbo giggles a little before quieting.

“If anybody ever tries to hurt you,” Tommy says seriously, “You can always come to me. Always. Doesn’t matter how scary they are or how big you get. I’ll fight anybody that tries to hurt you. I swear”

He means it. He hopes somehow the older Tubbo hears it too. He never wants to watch his best friend hurt again. (burning fireworks, the resignation in his eyes as an axe presses to his throat.)

Tubbo doesn’t respond, pondering.

“Hey, do you want some water or something?”

Tubbo shrugs listlessly, picking at a loose thread on his chair cushion.

“You wanna just sit for a while?”

Tubbo nods.

Well, it’s not like the spell will last long enough to really screw up baby Tubbo’s sleep schedule if he doesn’t sleep tonight. Tommy walks to the ender chest in the corner of the room, pulling out some yards and two old needles.

Tubbo watches from the corners of his eyes as Tommy sits back down and starts sewing.

“What’s that for?”

“Knitting.”

Tommy pats the couch cushion next to him invitingly.

“I can show you, if you’d like,” Tommy offers.

The weight of Tubbo sitting next to him brings a small smile to Tommy’s face. He looks up to see Tubbo peering curiously.

“Here, watch.”

Tommy slowly goes through the motions as Tubbo looks.

“What’re you making?” Tubbo asks after a while.

“It’s a sweater.”

“The color’s cool.”

Tommy grins.

“Maybe this sweater’ll be for you, then.”

Tubbo blinks, surprised and a bit delighted, before frowning.

“It’s wayyyy too big for me.”

“Guess you’ll have to grow into it then.”

It’s quiet for a while.

“You’re really making that sweater for me?”

“Yep.”

Tubbo leans against his arm slowly.

“I love you,” Tommy says- quietly, because Tubbo’s eyes are drooping. “I’d make you a million sweaters if you asked.”

Tubbo drops off slowly, going limp.

The soft noises of his breathing, the warm weight on his arm. The quiet clacking of the needles in the small glow of the lamplight.

Tommy feels himself fill with something uncomfortably large, too big for his body. It’s after a moment he realizes this feeling is love. It’s so big. It runs through him, making him feel like an overinflated balloon. It makes him want to move, to do something because it’s overwhelming and about to burst. But he can’t, because Tubbo’s sleeping on him.

He forces himself to stay still and calm, carefully knitting without jostling the boy on his arm. The feeling is too big for him, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Chapter Text

Ranboo chirps curiously as Tommy fiddles with the jukebox. A song begins playing, sudden enough to make him jump a bit, like a startled cat. It’s pretty cute.

“C’mon!” Tommy calls to the others.

“Woah! It’s like a dance party!” Quackity exclaims. Tommy can’t quite hide his wince, but he quickly moves past it.

“Yep. Alright, here’s the game. We’re gonna dance around until the music stops. And when it stops, we have to freeze until the music starts again. Got it?”

The kids nod. Ranboo frowns a little bit.

“Yeah, Ran Man?”

Ranboo opens his mouth, then pauses. He frowns harder, hissing frustratedly.

Tommy had forgotten how hard it must be for him, unable to communicate despite knowing the language.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “Could- could you show me?”

Ranboo sighs a bit, but nods. He gestures to the jukebox, then exaggeratedly freezes before gesturing at the jukebox again. Then he gestures to his ears when Tommy doesn’t get the message.

“Is- are you asking about how the music’s gonna stop?” Foolish asks from his armchair.

Ranboo lights up, nodding. He still looks a bit frustrated he couldn’t communicate that himself, but he’s happy to be understood.

“I can do it,” Foolish offers before Tommy can come up with something.

“Great, thanks,” Tommy says, setting off a tidal wave of thank-you’s from small children. (Techno looks a little confused, but he adds on after the others do, and even Tubbo nods. Progress.)

The game commences. Wilbur hangs with a reluctant Techno, encouraging him as he awkwardly wiggles his arms, clearly lost at the idea of dancing. Quackity tries to teach Niki waltzing, despite the ill-fitting music. They wobble slightly whenever the music stops, trying to keep themselves from falling over. Ranboo bounces over to Tubbo in the corner. It seems even small Tubbo can’t resist his genuine grin and enthusiastic chirps. They quickly get into the groove, jumping around. Jack mostly keeps to himself. Strangely, he’s been sneaking thoughtful glances at Tommy for a while now

Tommy notices after a few rounds that Foolish doesn’t actually call out anyone who moves slightly. No one has gotten out, even with the obvious wobbling from Quackity and Niki, not to mention the time Wilbur tripped exactly when the music cut out (to be fair, it’d have been cruel to count that one)

He shoots a curious look Foolish’s way and is met with a smirk.

Oh.

And here he thought it was just Foolish being lenient to the kids.

Nope.

Foolish is out for his blood. He’ll make him the first one to get out, a laughing stock among the others.

It’s on.

Tommy freezes perfectly after the music stops, keeping a careful eye on Foolish’s finger to anticipate the switch. The spite running through his veins fuels him.

But then the unthinkable happens.

Jack moves.

He moves so blatantly that Foolish has to call him out on it.

Tommy’s surprised enough that Foolish knocks him out too as his arm wobbles.

Jack wanders off and something instinctual prompts Tommy to follow, letting Foolish continue the game behind him.

Tommy ends up in a library of sorts, looking around, when the door slams behind him.

He goes still. His sword is stowed away in his inventory for the sake of not mixing kids (especially the traumatized ones) and weapons. Tommy’s hand inches toward his hotbar, ready to summon his sword to his hand if need be.

But then the door comes into view. It’s Jack, staring at Tommy with hard eyes.

“Hey, Jack-rabbit. What’s up?”

Jack crosses his arms.

“Something’s going on,” he says. “And you’re gonna tell me the truth about it.”

Tommy blinks. Jack stalks over to an armchair, sitting down. It’s more comical than anything, the way he sinks into the cushiony seat, how the size completely dwarfs him, even his legs dangling a good ways off the ground. Tommy senses it wouldn’t be wise to comment on that.

“Something’s going on,” Jack repeats. “I don’t know this place. I’ve never been here before. I was playing in the garden outside my house, and then I was here. I’ve never met any of the others before, and I know every kid in my village ‘cause it’s tiny. And it’s far away from everywhere else. But I just appeared here. And I wanna know why.”

Jack crosses his arms again, but Tommy can see the faint nervousness in his face, the apprehension.

But there’s also determination, and Tommy realizes he’s not getting out of this without a proper explanation.

Call him naive or ridiculous, but he’s never really liked lying to the people he cares about- not about something big and serious.

“It’s very complicated and tricky to explain.”

“I’m not stupid,” Jack tells him sharply.

Tommy winces. Fair enough.

“I know you aren’t. I’m just saying it’s pretty confusing. I don’t really understand half of it myself.”

“Just tell me.”

“You were brought here by magic.”

Jack’s eyes widen.

“Not mine,” Tommy says quickly. “You weren’t kidnapped, or anything. It’s-”

Tommy fumbles a little.

“This is the future.”

Jack blinks.

“What?”

“It’s the future. You live here when you’re older. So do the others. A very powerful person turned you all young for a few days.”

“This is the future?” Jack stutters. “Why aren’t there robots or anything?”

Tommy coughs into his fist. “I do know a robot, but this isn’t actually that far into the future. You’re about-” he has to think, count off in his head. “19 or 20. Years old.”

“That’s old.”

Tommy laughs.

“So I’m in the future? I live here, in the future? And the others do too?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d that guy turn me into a kid?”

“He thought it would be funny.”

Jack’s face screws up and Tommy laughs again.

“Hey,” Jack asks, brow furrowing thoughtfully. “How old are you?”

Tommy feels distinctly like he’s walking into a trap when he answers. “Seventeen.”

Jack grins.

“I’m older than you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m older than you!”

“I refuse.”

“Yeah I am! I’m 20 and you’re 17! I’m older! Baby Tommy! Baby Tommy!”

Tommy picks him up and he shrieks.

“I,” Tommy says very clearly in the same mock-threatening voice he uses during their games, “am not a baby. Alright?”

Jack’s lip twitches, fully ready to continue laughing at him, but he seems to register the threat in Tommy’s eyes. The tickling had been brutal.

“What am I like in the future? Are we friends?”

Tommy hesitates.

“Well, I’m still taller than you.”

Jack pouts.

“By a lot.”

Jack pouts more.

“You- um, you run a hotel now.”

“I do?” Jack asks, lighting up.

“Yep. It’s a very nice hotel.”

“Did I build it?”

“I did, actually. Well, with the help of that robot I mentioned before. His name is Sam Nook, and he’s very nice.”

“Like the guy from Animal Crossing?”

“The one and only!” Tommy grins, glad Jack also knows his favorite game series. “It was my hotel at first, but we worked together. Then-” he fumbles a little- “then something bad happened to me, and I couldn’t run the hotel for a little bit. And um- you took over. You do very well at it.”

Jack looks at him.

“Do we fight? In the future?”

Tommy blinks, plastering on a smile.

“Why do you ask?”

“You look kinda sad, like when my mom talks about her sister. They don’t get along.”

Tommy’s smile fades a little.

“It’s been tricky as of late,” he admits. “But y’know what?”

“What?”

“I still care about him. And I still care about you.”

“He better care about you too, or else I’ll smack him,” Jack says decisively.

Tommy snorts.

“I will!”

“Oh, I believe you. That’s the funny part.”

“What about the others? What are they like?”

“Well, Niki has pink hair.”

“She does?”

“Yeah. It looks very nice. She lives underground, the last I checked, with lots of rainbow lanterns. She liked to bake, but then she stopped for a while because she was sad. But I think she’s started doing it again.”

“What about Wilbur?”

“Well, Wilbur argues a lot with Quackity. They like to cause trouble and mess with each other. I really don’t know if they hate each other or like each other.” Tommy whispers that last sentence.

“Ew!” Jack laughs. “I don’t want to hear about liking people!”

“I guess you don’t want to know how Tubbo and Ranboo get married, then.”

“What?” Jack gasps.

“It’s a platonic marriage. That means they’re married, but they don’t kiss and stuff. It’s like a friend marriage.”

“Huh. That’s weird.”

“They're happy, which is amazing. Ranboo can talk in the future, once his vocal cords grow. He’s always talking about silly things like flowers or whatever. He’s also very tall.” Tommy brings his hand high above his head in a measurement of the excessively tall boy Tommy calls a friend. Jack's eyes go wide.

“Does Tubbo still have a knife?”

Tommy snorts. “He’s moved on to nukes now.”

“WHAT?”

“It’s okay, he doesn’t use them." Jack looks a little disappointed. "They just help make him feel safe. He lives in a very nice house in the snow.”

“What about Techno? He’s the last one, right?”

Tommy purses his lips.

“What’s wrong?”

Shoot. Tommy needs to start watching himself around Jack. The kid’s nosy and observant, a deadly combo.

“Me and Techno don’t get along,” he says lightly.

“Like me and you?”

“Worse, I think,” Tommy sighs.

“But you like our Techno.”

“I do. He doesn’t have anything to do with the other Techno, just like you are different from the older Jack. And I do care about the other Techno, but I don’t think we can be friends again.”

“That’s sad.”

“A little bit, yeah. But it’s okay.” Tommy searches for a distraction to lighten the mood. “Now, let me tell you a funny story about you in the future.”

Jack sits up attentively.

“Alright, so Fundy- that’s one of the other people who lives in this server- had this water bucket-”

–

The rest of the day is fun. There’s lots of coloring, mess-making, and play-fighting. Foolish even reluctantly joins in, and promises to take them outside tomorrow and grow to his full, big height. The kids vary between skeptical and fascinated when he tells them how tall he can be. “The power of vegetables,” Tommy calls it, mostly to get a snort out of Foolish. “And, of course,” he adds out of earshot of the kids, “hard drugs.” Foolish does laugh at that.

Jack doesn’t tell anyone about what he’d found out, as per Tommy’s request. He really doesn’t want to deal with more complications than he has too, and Jack had been easily bribed with one of the leftover cookies.

–

-

By nighttime, everyone’s tired out and exhausted. They all quickly head to bed and fall asleep, save one.

Wilbur lies awake as Jack sprawls across the bed. He dreamed of something last night, just faint glimpses. For some reason, he can’t stop thinking about it. A soft glow, something blue.

He’s so lost in his thoughts it takes him a few minutes to realize he’s not alone. Well- not alone besides Jack.

Wilbur jumps when he sees the man there, almost screams, but the man holds up his hands quickly in surrender.

Wilbur pauses, mouth still open to yell. He knows this man, strange as it seems. There’s something hauntingly familiar about him.

He glows softly in the dark room, perched at the foot of the bed. He’s all shades of gray, dark gray hair with lighter skin. There’s a yellow sweater stained with blue smudges, like he’d been painting and didn’t wear a mess shirt.

His fingers are all blue-stained too.

The man looks at him with white eyes, almost curiously. Wilbur isn’t afraid.

“I know you, don’t I?” Wilbur asks, quickly dropping down to a whisper when Jack shifts.

“I suppose so,” the man says softly.

“Are you a ghost?”

The man smiles like he’s thinking of a joke no one else understands.

“I’m a double ghost,” he whispers.

“Woah,” Wilbur breathes. He doesn’t know what a double ghost is, but it sounds super cool.

“You’re Ali- er- Wilbur, then. It’s nice to meet you.”

“How come I can see you? Aren't ghosts usually invisible?”

The ghost hums a little, looking like he’s not really sure himself.

“I’m connected to you,” he says eventually, carefully. “Our souls sort of overlap. I carry parts of you in me, and you carry parts of me in you.”

Huh. That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to Wilbur, but frankly there’s a ghost in his room. Nothing makes sense.

“How come I can only see you now then?”

The ghost hums again.

“You were looking for me.”

Oh. He was.

“You were in my dream, though. Last night.”

“A little bit, yes. You don’t have many nightmares.”

Wilbur tilts his head.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I can’t show up in nightmares. They’re too strong for me.”

That kinda makes sense.

“Okay. Can everyone else see you?”

The ghost shakes his head.

“Oh.” That seems lonely, to exist without anyone seeing you.

“Well,” Wilbur says decisively, “I can see you.”

The ghost smiles. It’s a very soft smile, a bit like the ones Tommy makes when he doesn’t think anybody’s looking.

“What’s your name? I can’t really keep calling you ‘the ghost’.”

“Oh,” the ghost says, like he hadn’t thought of that very good point before. “I’m Ghostbur.”

Ghostbur? That’s kind of a silly name to have.

Ghostbur laughs, and Wilbur realizes he said that part out loud.

“It is kind of a silly name. It’s ‘cause I’m a ghost. And the ‘bur’ part is-” Ghostbur pauses. “It’s a bit like the plant. You know, burrs. They like to cling to things. And right now I’m clinging to you!” he declares cheerfully. “Or well, my soul is.”

Wilbur nods.

“So, is this a one time thing, or are you gonna stick around?”

Ghostbur moves to sit on the foot of the bed, pulling his feet close together in a butterfly position.

“There’s somewhere else,” he says quietly, looking down at his feet. “It’s very lonely there. That’s where I was for a long time. I still go there sometimes, but I met this very nice lady. She helps me visit this world, the alive world, because I’m connected to you. I can’t be here all the time, and it’s harder in the daytime, but I’d like to stay.”

“I’d like you to stay too,” Wilbur decides. “You seem nice, and nobody should have to be lonely. We can be friends.”

Ghostbur smiles.

“I’d like that. I hope we can still be friends when you’re grown up too.”

That’s pretty far away from now, so Wilbur’s not sure why he’s bringing it up, but he nods.

“You should probably get some rest,” Ghostbur suggests. “I don’t really need to sleep, but I know alive people do, or they get cranky or sad.”

Wilbur worries his lip.

“Are you gonna have to go back? If I fall asleep?”

“Maybe. I can-” Ghostbur looks a little shy. “I can stay if you want.”

“Can you go other places, or are you stuck near me?”

“It’s easier to be closer, but during the nighttime the connection is stronger.”

Wilbur nods.

“You can tell me tomorrow if you find anything cool,” he decides. He’s quite tired now, after all the playing, and now that the nagging itch at the back of his brain is gone, he’s ready to go to bed.

“Night, Ghostbur.”

“Goodnight, Wilbur,” Ghostbur says softly, walking out of the room.

The last thing Wilbur notices before sleep claims him are the dark blue splotches on the bed where Ghostbur put his hands, just barely visible in the fading glow from the retreating ghost.

If it weren’t for the splotches, faded over the night, he might’ve written it all off as an odd dream in the morning. Jack can’t see them, but that’s okay. Jack also can’t see the ghost waving good morning from the hall. That's okay too.

Chapter Text

“Alright, fellow gamers! Let’s get going!”

The kids cheer delightedly as Tommy throws open the doors, leading them out of Las Nevadas and to a picturesque field.

Wilbur immediately goads Ranboo into a game of tag, giggling as they chase each other. They crash into Niki at one point, shrieking in genuine fear when she starts chasing after them.

Tubbo carefully ties grass blades into knots, showing Techno how to do it gently enough to keep them from ripping.

Foolish shoots up to his twenty foot form, much to the kids’ awe and delight. Quackity starts climbing all over him without hesitation as Foolish visibly struggles to keep still.

It’s a beautiful morning, Tommy thinks, watching from under a tree as Jack jumps into the tag game and Wilbur seems to be having a conversation with an imaginary friend of some kind.

Of course, it’s only when things are at their best that everything goes wrong.

“Oh hi, Tommy!” Badboyhalo crows, strolling out of the treeline. Tommy freezes.

“Foolish,” he says into his comm to the man across the field. “Grab the kids and run. Get back to Las Nevadas. Set up defenses. Go.”

Tommy draws his sword, summoning his armor around him.

“Aw, Tommy, don’t be like that. We just heard there were some new residents, and we wanted to say hi.”

“Well, there isn’t anybody new here, so feel free to back off. Now.”

“C’mon, Tommy. The Egg wants to see them.”

“And I said no,” Tommy snaps, switching from a sword to the Axe of Peace itself.

He can hear Foolish start running, heavy footsteps shaking the ground.

“Tommy!” Foolish yells through the comms. “I got most of them, but I can’t find Quackity. Ant’s on our tail!”

“That’s ok,” Tommy says, trying to keep himself calm.

“Hey, Bad!” Hannah calls, holding a struggling Quackity by the back of his shirt. “I found one!”

“Great! Now come on, little guy. You’re gonna meet the Egg, and it’s gonna be amazing!”

“Tommy!” Quackity shrieks, looking terrified. His frantic flailing makes something red hot and dangerous boil in his chest.

Tommy growls, leaping at Hannah with the reckless determination he’s known so well for. He tackles her, dislodging Quackity from her grip. Tommy quickly scoops him up and starts running, Bad right behind him.

Quackity shifts to Tommy’s back, freeing his hands. Tommy rifles through his inventory for something, anything that could help.

He leaps over a log, taking the opportunity to light a few small fires behind him with his flint and steel before pulling out his comm.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re up to, and I frankly don’t care. I don't get paid en-”

“No time for that!” Tommy snaps, narrowly dodging a sword as he starts moving faster, moving Quackity to his front so he isn’t in the line of fire. “The Eggpire’s after us. Foolish should already be there, I’m on my way. We need your help!”

“On it.”

Tommy races his way to Las Nevadas, sprinting past Purpled, who gives him a nod before leaping into battle against Hannah, Ant, and Bad.

He runs into the most secure building, relieved to find Foolish and the others already inside.

“Here,” he says, helping Quackity down next to the others, who quickly swarm him in frantic relief.

Foolish’s eyes are distant, face a paler shade of gold than normal.

“Foolish?” Tommy asks quietly, not wanting to worry the kids.

Foolish jumps.

“Yeah?”

Tommy hesitates. Foolish lost his first life to the Eggpire, didn’t he? Being sacrificed by a cult is definitely not a fun memory to relive. He’s hiding it well enough for the kids, but Tommy can spot every sign a mile away. He’s shaken. Scared.

“Where’s the safest room in this place?”

Foolish blinks, trying to stay focused on the here and now.

“Um, probably the security room. Qu- uh, my boss designed it to be the best place for an attack, since it’s heavily guarded and has access to all the cameras.”

“Can you take them there? I’ll stay here for a while, make sure everything’s secure while Purpled deals with them.”

Foolish takes a deep breath before nodding.

“Okay. C’mon, guys, we’re gonna go to a safe spot for a little bit, just to make sure none of those people come after us. I think there might be some snacks in there for everybody, and Tommy’s gonna wait out here to make sure there are no bad guys.”

Tommy winces when he sees how clearly shaken up they all are. Wilbur’s tearstained, and Jack’s shaking. Ranboo is making constant whirring noises, trying to calm himself down. Niki and Quackity are clinging onto each other and Techno’s looking around like enemies could appear from anywhere. Tubbo hugs himself tightly, face downcast.

“Hey,” Tommy says softly. “It’s gonna be alright. I’m sorry they scared you, but I promise nobody is gonna hurt you while I’m taking care of you.”

The kids nod shakily and start following Foolish. Tubbo pauses.

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asks, still tense.

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy promises. “I’m very resilient.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means when things hurt me, I get better. When things get tough, I figure it out. Whenever I get knocked down, I get back up. And I’m gonna be here for as long as you need me. Nobody’s gonna stop me.”

Tubbo runs up to give him a lightning-fast hug before hurrying after the others. Tommy smiles a bit before pulling his ax from his inventory again.

Footsteps echo through the building. It only sounds like one person, which is good. Hopefully Purpled took out the other two. (Tommy doesn’t think about the implications of what might have prevented Purpled from stopping whoever’s here now.)

“C’mon, Tommy,” Bad chides, walking through the hallway. “You’re getting in the way of progress.”

“Y’know, Bad,” Tommy says, shifting to keep himself in front of the door. “I really don’t think this is progress.”

Bad sighs.

“You always have to be so difficult, Tommy. That’s why the Egg doesn’t like you; it’s probably why most people don’t like you.”

Tommy stiffens. He- it’s always just been Dream who knew enough to prey on that insecurity. Wilbur might’ve had an inkling, but if he did, he never said.

“I thought the Egg doesn’t like me because it's a whiny loser, to be honest. Got that immunity, and far more women.”

Bad sighs. “Tommy, look. This doesn’t have to end badly. Those kids over there, they could bring so much glory to the Egg! If you give them to us, the Egg is willing to forgive you for everything.”

Tommy bristles. “Forgive me? I know I cause a lot of problems, but I think it is in fact you who are the wrongun here. You tried to kill me!”

“Like nobody’s ever tried to do that before,” Bad scoffs. Tommy flinches at the reminder. “How many of the same people you’re trying to protect have done that at one time or another? Honestly, I really don’t get why you’re so insistent on defending them.”

Tommy sighs before gritting his teeth and holding his ax at the ready.

“This talk has been lovely, Bad, but I think it’s time for you to Piss Off; said politely, of course.”

“Ugh. Well, I guess if you don’t want to make a deal, we’ll have to do this the hard way. I swear, you always make things so difficult.”

Bad leaps forward, sword flashing. The blades clang loudly as they meet, Bad ducking under Tommy’s arm towards the door.

Tommy leaps between Bad and the door, taking a hit to the chestplate as he does so, hard enough to dent the shoddily crafted metal. Tommy counters with a powerful ax swing that Bad catches on his sword.

The fight goes on for a while, but Tommy is at a heavy disadvantage. His armor isn’t as strong and heavily enchanted as Bad’s. The demon also gains power from the Egg. It’s not much, but Tommy doesn’t have much power to spare, so the extra strength gives Bad an edge. Perhaps the most condemning is that Tommy is on the defensive. He cannot allow Bad through the door, thus costing him maneuverability.

A heavy hit to the chest causes him to stagger, and a sweep of the legs brings him crashing to the ground. The tip of Bad’s sword appears at his throat before he can get up, pressing ever so slightly into his neck.

“This really doesn’t have to be this way,” Bad says, and he almost sounds genuinely sad. “The Egg can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Tommy. You don’t have to fight it.”

“Really? What’d it give you?”

“I asked it to protect Skeppy, to keep us friends.”

“Where is Skeppy now?” Tommy asks pointedly. Bad hesitates for a moment; face pained, before slamming his foot onto Tommy’s ankle. Tommy’s yelp is quickly silenced, gritting his teeth against the pain stubbornly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says shortly. He steps past Tommy, blade withdrawing. “You aren’t even who I’m here for.”

Tommy takes a deep breath before launching himself at Bad, barely suppressing a cry of pain when he tries to put weight on his bad ankle. Bad twists, easily pushing him off, and Tommy has to fumble for the wall to keep himself upright.

“Why do you keep doing this? This isn’t a fight you’re going to win, Tommy.”

Tommy laughs a little. “I don’t know if you haven’t noticed, Bad, but I fight a lot of losing battles. It’s basically my thing at this point.”

He limps forward, reaching out to steady himself on the back of the couch, slowly but surely standing between Bad and the hallway where the security room is.

Bad shoves him over easily. Tommy hits the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him, but he manages to flail his arm just wide enough to grab Bad’s foot, yanking it with all his might. It just barely shifts, but it buys him enough time to snag the demon’s arm, pulling himself to his feet as he tries to shove Bad down.

The man growls, slamming Tommy against the wall.

“Get out of my way!”

Tommy staggers forward, grabbing Bad’s shoulders and trying to push him; or at least drag him down with him. He grits his teeth when Bad tries to throw him off, planting his good foot as best he can. It’s not enough.

Tommy crashes to the ground, sudden enough that he can’t catch himself. Bad snarls, slamming his foot down on Tommy’s ankle again. Tommy shrieks, curling into himself unconsciously as his vision goes white.

He blinks open his eyes to see Bad looming over him.

“All that stubbornness, and for what?” Bad presses his foot down ever so slightly on Tommy’s ankle, relishing in the sharp pained inhale Tommy can’t disguise. “You still lose.”

Tommy breathes harder, hands scrabbling desperately for some purchase, some way to protect his- his family. His ankle screams when Bad leans his weight on it- or maybe Tommy does. The pain swallows him whole, and he knows nothing more.

Chapter Text

Tommy wakes up. Which is strange, because he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be doing that. Not after….. after….. after whatever happened that he can’t quite remember.

He stirs, blankets shifting. Someone must hear it, because they rush to his side. Gold. Stupid. That’s rude, but Tommy can’t think anything else. Dumb. Moron. No, wait. Foolish.

And it all rushes back.

“Tommy, you’re awake!”

Tommy, eyes wide with sudden clarity, can’t resist snorting.

“Yeah, I figured that much. Wait-“ his heart drops. “Foolish. Where are-“

“They’re okay. The spell wore off, they’re all alright,” Foolish says quickly.

“Okay,” he breathes, relaxing. “Okay.”

Everything is fine.

“They’re waiting to see you, when you’re up for it.”

Tommy freezes.

“Do they- do they remember?”

Foolish nods.

Everything is not fine.

Tommy scrambles off the bed and to his feet, crying out when a sharp blast of pain nearly topples him over. Foolish rushes to catch him, draping one of Tommy’s arms over his shoulders.

“Geez, Tommy, you gotta be careful!” he yelps.

Tommy looks down at his wrapped ankle in betrayal. He can’t go anywhere like this.

Jack’s gonna be so mad when he realizes you tricked him into being friends again, Niki- Wilbur- everyone knows. They all remember everything.

Tommy grits his teeth and pushes himself off Foolish and out the doorway. He’s in one of his hotel rooms, he recognizes that much. That means the elevator should be right around… there! He dashes toward it, shoving himself off walls to gain speed and trying not to put any weight on his bad foot.

Foolish keeps trying to grab him, but he’s being gentle, not gripping tightly. That’s a mistake, because Tommy’s spent his life escaping people. You can’t be a proper scammer without knowing how to escape unhappy customers, after all.

He ducks under yet another attempt as he slams the elevator button, sliding in as quickly as he can.

Foolish gets in with him. He curses the slow closing of the doors. He’ll have to have a long talk with Sam Nook about some upgrades.

The door opens with a cheerful ding as Foolish adjusts his grip on Tommy’s arm (like that could hold him for long. It’s a decent hold, but it’s still too gentle, like Foolish is trying to support him more than restrain him.)

There’s quite a few people in the hotel lobby. Tubbo and Ranboo are practically in each other’s laps, chattering about something. Wilbur sits a bit awkwardly next to Jack, who doesn’t even seem to notice the tension as he asks Niki a question. Niki pauses her forceful stare (not quite a glare, but no less steely) in Wilbur’s direction to answer cheerfully before returning. Quackity is playing what appears to be Go Fish with Charlie and Purpled, though Purpled is more focused on his video game, a large bandage fixed on his cheek. Even Technoblade stands in the corner, refusing any eye contact and sharpening his weapons as if that would be sufficient enough to hide how uncomfortable he is.

They all look up when the elevator door chimes, and Tommy freezes. There’s no way he makes it to the door, not with his ankle in the state it is. Not with Technoblade here, especially.

After a moment’s consideration, Tommy turns back around and presses the elevator close button, sending him back up to the previous floor.

Foolish gapes at him, on the verge of surprised laughter and desperately trying (and failing) to hide it.

Tommy shrugs.

“I’m not dealing with all that crap. Not today.”

Foolish shrugs, tapping his foot casually to the faint elevator music.

“Can you at least let me help you to bed? You aren’t supposed to be walking on that, especially not until you get your cast and crutches and stuff.”

Tommy bristles, but Foolish gives him a wide-eyed earnest look that’s definitely at least 25% manipulative. It works, and Tommy is really pissed about it.

“For the record,” Foolish says quietly when Tommy’s all settled in bed. “I don’t think any of them hate you. You took care of them, saved their lives. I know I’m grateful.”

Tommy looks away, studying the clean white bandages, slightly scuffed from all the running.

“Get some rest. I got this.”

———

“Hey.”

Tommy ignores Ranboo’s greeting, focusing on trying to pull his weirdly bulky and heavy foot from the sheets tangled around him.

“You having a bit of trouble there?”

Tommy looks up only long enough to give him a withering glare.

“I’ll help you up, but you gotta promise you won’t make a run for it. You’ve got some broken ribs and a broken ankle.”

Tommy scowls, but reluctantly lets Ranboo help him with the blankets. The cast is large and red, for some reason.

“I wanted to thank you.”

Tommy stops.

“You didn’t have to do all that, but you did. And I appreciate it.”

Tommy scowls, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and ignoring Ranboo’s nervous attempts to stop him.

“I don’t want a thank you for basic decency, Ranboob. I wasn’t just gonna leave you there.”

Ranboo sighs a little, like he thinks Tommy is missing the point. “I know. Still-”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you wanna return the favor, get me out of here.”

Ranboo opens the door, and for a moment Tommy thinks he’s actually helping him escape.

Then Sam Nook walks in.

“Sam Nook,” Tommy growls. “I expected dirty, underhanded tactics from Ranboo, but this? This is betrayal.”

Nook, as always, is unmoved.

“HELLO, TOMMYINNIT,” he chitters. “I AM HERE TO CHECK ON YOUR RECOVERY AFTER YOUR INJURIES.”

“I’m fine, Nook. I just gotta get out of here.”

“MOVING AROUND COULD GREATLY ESCALATE YOUR INJURIES. I RECOMMEND PLENTY OF REST.”

“Filthy traitor.”

Tommy writhes in Sam Nook’s grip, spitting curses and growls like a furious cat.

“Ꞇອᛗᛗƴ,” Ranboo warbles, letting the syllables slur in his throat. Tommy freezes.

Ranboo grins.

“Shut up. Don’t you- don’t you dare.”

“Ꞇອᛗᛗƴ,” he repeats with a grin, tail flicking smugly. Tommy goes bright red, burying his face into Nook’s uncomfortable arms.

“You are the worst.”

“C’mon, Ꞇອᛗᛗƴ, you like me,” Ranboo trills, gleefully poking his shoulder.

“I really, really don’t.”

“Does that mean you won’t let me sign your cast?”

Tommy blinks as Nook gets him back into bed.

“Sign my what?”

“Your cast.”

“Oh.” Tommy looks down at it. He’s never actually had one of these before. “Yeah, sure, I guess. I don’t care.”

He means that. He really doesn’t care. If he spends five minutes after Ranboo leaves staring at the signature against the red cast, it’s just because he’s making fun of his handwriting. Nothing else. It’s weirdly neat, for a thick black marker against a bumpy, uneven surface. Neat cursive loops…

Tommy cackles. Ranboo snuck in a little fancy loop before the B. Combine that with the long, thin loop of the B and the smaller one at the bottom, it looks like a rather obscene drawing.

—-

Jack comes to visit him next, arms crossed and visibly uncomfortable.

“Alright, at least you can help me out here. You want me out of your hotel, right? I need freedom, Jack. I crave it.”

Jack shifts awkwardly.

“I don’t want you out of the hotel. Bringing you here was my idea, actually.”

Tommy blinks.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jack sighs, running a hand down his face. “Look. I don’t- I’ve been mad for a long time. Probably to an unhealthy extent. And I’m not really over all of it, but I do- I still.. I don’t hate you or anything. It’s good, that you’re okay.”

And Tommy finds himself understanding perfectly.

“I’m glad you’re okay too,” he says. “I still don’t really know what happened to us, but I still think about you and stuff.”

Jack nods. They sit there in silence for a little while, getting used to the feeling of being around each other without fighting, without that unspeakable, suffocating tension neither could fully understand.

“Hey, Tommy?” Jack asks quietly.

“Yeah?”

“That story you told us. About the animals.”

Tommy’s heart stops. Every muscle tenses, ever hair on edge.

“Yeah?” he dares to ask.

Jack looks over at him, eyes tired and bitter but never ignorant.

“What’d he do to you? In your.. exile?”

Tommy breathes, shaky.

“Nothing good,” he says, and leaves it at that. Jack nods.

Tommy focuses on the feel of the sheets, the soft pillow supporting him upright, taking the strain off his ribs.

“We would’ve,” Jack says into the quiet.

“Huh?”

Jack doesn’t look at him, picking up the marker Ranboo left behind on the dresser.

“Can I sign?”

Tommy shrugs, nods.

Jack concentrates on his signature, eyes focused when he speaks.

“If we’d gotten the invitations. We would’ve come. Thought you should know that, in case you didn’t before.”

Tommy averts his eyes too, studying the bruises on his arms with false detachment.

“See you around, Tommy. Call me or Nook if you need anything.”

Tommy nods faintly, unable to look up.

Jack’s handwriting is neater than he would’ve thought. He supposes after running a business you need at least legible handwriting. Still, it’s messy, all caps.

Tommy can’t get Jack’s words out of his head for a long time.

—--

Niki’s scrawl is fast and almost unreadable. She stopped by only long enough to drop off a basket of baked goods and sign his cast. Tommy lets her go. He finds a letter inside the basket, full of the things she’s not ready to say out loud. He keeps it close.

—-

“Ayup, lads.”

“Hello, Tommyinnit from Nowhere In Particular!” Charlie greets enthusiastically. Tommy smiles despite himself. The name still pangs deep inside him, but he knows Charlie means no harm by it.

“Hello, Charlie the Human. Purpled, you doing alright?”

Purpled yawns.

“Yeah. You interrupted a gym battle with your distress call, though. You’re lucky I think you’re alright- and that I get paid a lot.”

Tommy laughs.

“How much would I have to pay you to bust me out of here?”

Quackity steps forward.

“Tommy, you’re going to make your ribs worse. Purpled, whatever he offers you, don’t take it.”

Purpled flips him a casual obscene gesture as he finishes signing Tommy’s cast and walks out of the room, eyes glued on his game. Charlie follows. His name isn’t so much a name as it is a large green goop stain near Purpled’s name. Still, the gesture is nice.

“Don’t die, kid," Purpled calls over his shoulder.

“Oi! You’re only a few months older than me!”

Quackity snorts.

It’s just the two of them now.

“Big Q, I’m honestly a little insulted,” Tommy starts, breaking the silence.

“What?” Quackity looks a little concerned.

“You were adorable as a kid, and you didn’t tell me? The betrayal.”

Quackity laughs, playfully rapping his knuckles on Tommy’s head.

“Yeah? I bet you were even cuter when you were little. Littler.”

Tommy tries to bite the hand.

“I’m not little!”

“Oh, yeah, I can see it now. Little baby cheeks, messy hair, probably raised by wolves.”

Tommy sputters, shoving Quackity off the bed with a thud.

“You’re proving my point,” he yells from the floor.

Tommy laughs. He’s missed this, fooling around with ‘Big Q’. Quackity’s been cold for a while now, friendly but distant. He’s heard him yell far more than laugh, scowl more than grin.

Quackity picks up on it, or maybe he feels the same.

“I’ve missed hanging around with you,” he says, still lying on the carpet.

“Me too,” Tommy admits.

“Hey, you know you’re always welcome at Las Nevadas, right? Forget me and Wilbur’s feud. I’m always happy to have you.”

Tommy can feel his face go red at the genuine fondness in Quackity’s voice.

“Tommy, you good?” Quackity pops up at his sudden quiet.

“Shut up,” Tommy says, shoving his face into his pillow.

“Awww,” Quackity coos. “Tomaaaas.”

“Shut. Up.” Tommy can feel himself go even redder at the old nickname.

“I’ll give you some space. Seriously, though. Anytime. I’ll get us a fun video game system, and maybe we can figure out how to beat Purpled.”

“That sounds awesome,” Tommy says, smiling.

Quackity grabs the marker, swiftly signing his name directly on Tommy’s forehead, much to the boy’s loud protests and stifled amusement. He does end up writing his name on the cast, but the permanent marker does not come off Tommy's forehead. Still, if it means hanging out with Big Q more often, it’s a price Tommy’s willing to pay.

—-

Technoblade shuffles into the room, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Hey,” he says awkwardly. “I’m just here to repay-”

“Don’t,” Tommy says quietly, looking away. He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want anything from you, Technoblade. I don’t want any gifts or assurance or camaraderie, not while I know it won’t last. Because no matter how much we get along, how much we seem to care about each other, it’s like none of that matters to you the moment we disagree on something important.”

“Of course it-“

“Sure doesn’t feel like it!” Tommy snaps. “Sure didn’t feel like it when you were telling me to die like every hero I never wanted to be. Sure didn’t feel like it when you razed my home to the ground, through the ground, so thoroughly that there wasn’t even hope to rebuild. Sure didn’t feel like it when you shot a rocket launcher at my face. I would’ve died there, you know that? If Tubbo hadn’t saved me, you would’ve finished me off right then and there.”

Technoblade doesn’t show any visible emotion, but his gaze flickers to the rocket launcher at his side for a moment.

“You didn’t even know what you were destroying. You were never a part of L’Manburg, Technoblade. You had no right to destroy a country that wasn’t yours, that you had nothing to do with.”

Technoblade tries to interject, but Tommy stops him.

“You had no right to decide what L’Manburg was, when you never even bothered to learn. You don’t know about how this country started. About what its ideals were. About everything we fought and died for, and why we tried so hard to save it. You never bothered to listen to me talking about it in Pogtopia, ask me why it meant so much. You destroyed something so important to so many people, and you didn’t even know what it meant.”

Tommy sighs.

“But does that even matter to you? Cause that’s the thing about you, Technoblade, you always gotta be right. You decided that everyone would be better off without L’Manburg. But are they? I’m not. Tubbo isn’t- and don’t even get me started on Tubbo. Whatever things you did to me, however you screwed me over and hurt me is nothing compared to what you did to him.”

Tommy takes a deep breath.

“I don’t think I can forgive you, definitely not if I think you’d destroy my or someone else’s home if you wanted to. I don’t want anything from you, not for this. We aren’t friends, as much as I wish we could be in another time.”

Tommy rubs his neck, looking down.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. We aren’t friends, and I don’t know why you’d ever need my help, but if you ever have nowhere else to go, my door is always open.”

Tommy gets awkwardly to his feet, shuffling out the door with his red cast. He pauses in the doorway, looking back at the man he once looked up to with all he had.

“If you ever change your mind, I’d be happy to talk. See you around, Blade.”

There’s a scuff on the bottom of the cast where Tommy scrapes it against the hallway floor.

—

“Hey, Tommy.”

“Tubso! You gotta get me out of here, I’m going stir-crazy.”

Tubbo, Tommy’s best friend, his life-long partner in crime, doesn’t help at all.

“You are a horrible best friend.”

Tubbo snorts.

“I hope not. Would a horrible best friend bring this?”

Tubbo produces something from his inventory.

Tommy pauses. It’s a stuffed cow, spotted with big brown eyes. Little horns peek out from its fur, and its ears are floppy.

“I’m not a little kid,” Tommy blusters.

“I know. It’s just for fun, y’know, since you took care of us for a bit. Plus, it’s soft, and it’s nice to have something soft when you’re hurt.”

Tommy protests a bit more, but he catches it when Tubbo tosses it at him. It is soft. It’s soft and small in his hands. He finds himself pulling it closer, gently stroking the head.

Wait- no.

He can’t have things like this. He can’t get attached to useless items. He can’t- because people will destroy them. They’ll take it, and they’ll make him fight and fight and fight to get it back, and then they’ll call him selfish for caring about objects so much, or maybe they’ll make him throw it into a pit, watch it be blown up, and he-

He’s just so tired of losing things.

“I-” Tommy croaks, breathing quick and uneven. “I can’t-”

“Tommy,” Tubbo says quietly, putting his hand over his friend’s and freezing when he flinches.

“I can’t have this,” Tommy says bluntly, shakily, shoving the toy back into his friend’s hands.

“It’s yours.”

“That’s why I can’t have it. Nothing that’s mine is ever safe.”

Tubbo gently takes Tommy’s hands, turning them palm up.

“It’s okay,” he says, putting the stuffed cow back into Tommy’s hands.

Tommy gives him a miserable look, but he takes it, nervously fidgeting with one of its floppy ears.

“You doing okay?” he asks, and Tubbo blinks in surprise. He’s the one that’s supposed to be asking that.

“Yeah, I’m alright, wh-”

Oh.

Tommy looks at him now, nervous and a little worried, though he tries to hide it.

“Tommy,” Tubbo says softly, “That was a long time ago. I’m alright.”

Tommy bites his lip.

“Seriously,” Tubbo says. “I’m fine. Thanks for looking after me, though.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that.”

“I know. But I’m doing it anyway.”

Tommy shifts, already back to nearly cuddling the cow, despite his fears.

“Thank you, then. For this.”

Tubbo wants to tease him a bit, but he doesn’t. Not for this.

“I’m glad you liked it. I found the dingeist, rattiest looking plushie the store had and thought, ‘That’s the one. It’s just like Tommy’.”

Tommy sputters in offense, whacking Tubbo over the head as he cradles his cow protectively.

“Don’t listen to him, Stuffed Henry.”

Tubbo laughs at the completely on-brand name, watching his friend fiddle with the horns.

“Y’know, you were such a superhero.”

Tommy blinks.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Tubbo says, grinning. “I remember Ranboo getting hurt and you sprinted in there at top speeds, yanked off your bandanna immediately to help. I’m pretty sure Ranboo hero-worshiped you for the rest of the spell.”

Tommy laughs at Tubbo’s dramatic descriptions, even as his face goes pink.

“And before that, with whatever was going on with Techno? Or that one time Niki screamed and you thought she was hurt and freaked out? You were so ride or die.”

“I seem to recall somebody protecting me with a knife,” Tommy points out dryly, grinning at Tubbo’s expression as the memory resurfaces.

“You were all mememememe, I don’t like Tommyinnit, and then I get spooked and suddenly you’re running to my rescue.”

“You do make a nice damsel in distress,” Tubbo teases.

“I am the best at everything.”

Tubbo looks down at Tommy’s cast.

“Can I sign it?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Tubbo’s signature is neat, practiced. Tommy sort of misses the completely illegible chicken scratch it once had been. But it’s there.

Stuffed Henry is soft under his restless hands, childish and silly but soothing.

—

Wilbur slinks into the room on shadow-soft feet, hands tucked behind him.

Tommy watches through lidded and unimpressed eyes as Wilbur quietly moves around, taking near-silent steps. He’s obviously under the impression Tommy’s asleep.

“You aren’t actually that subtle, Wilbur.” Wilbur jumps like a startled cat, much to Tommy’s amusement.

“Ah, hello Tommy,” he says, sounding almost.. nervous. Not to say that Wilbur never gets nervous, but he rarely shows it. “Yes, yes, I know,” he mutters to himself.

Tommy waits as Wilbur builds up his courage to say something, making a few aborted movements to walk closer before stepping back again.

“Ghostbur’s here,” he says finally.

What?

Tommy feels like he’s missed something, like he zoned out for a minute. Surely Wilbur didn’t actually just say that.

“We’ve got a weird connection, I guess, considering we share souls, and little me lowered my defenses enough to see him.”

Tommy opens his mouth, but all that he can muster is an odd creaking noise.

“I can prove it,” Wilbur says quickly. “Give me something only you and Tommy would know,” he says to the empty air next to him.

Wilbur shakes his head after a beat. “No, no, I have some of your memories, remember? Something else.”

Tommy reaches with fumbling hands for Stuffed Henry, squeezing his little body tight. He doesn’t really know what to think, to feel. He still feels like Wilbur’s speaking in another language, saying things that just don’t make sense, that he can’t comprehend at all.

“He remembers following you, when you were exiled,” Wilbur says quietly. “That you looked really upset, like someone just pulled a rug out from under you. He wanted to help you feel better.”

Tommy squeezes Stuffed Henry tighter, tighter, desperately trying to get rid of the powerful pressure building stronger and stronger and.

“Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice is high with worry. There’s a damp spot on Stuffed Henry’s head, and Tommy doesn’t know where it came from. Then a drop of water plops down onto him. Tommy touches his cheeks, and they’re wet.

Oh.

“Tommy, are you okay?”

“I got him killed,” Tommy chokes out, gripping Stuffed Henry tighter.

“What?”

“I’m the reason Ghostbur died. He trusted me, and I failed. I panicked and messed everything up, and I couldn’t save him.” Tommy shoves his face into his arms, just barely muffling his hiccuping breaths.

Wilbur’s eyes widen as Tommy grows increasingly distressed the longer he talks, voice breaking by the end.

“Tommy,” he says softly.

Tommy doesn’t look up.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was,” Tommy sniffs.

“You didn’t kill Ghostbur, Dream did. He’s right here, Tommy, and he doesn’t blame you at all. You tried as hard as you could to help him.”

“I’m so sorry, Ghostbur,” Tommy chokes out, not removing his head from his arms.

“He forgives you, Tommy. It’s okay.”

Tommy breaks down again, crying into Stuffed Henry’s supportive little body. Ghostbur forgives him.

He doesn’t register Wilbur talking quietly.

“I know, I know. He didn’t actually do anything wrong, but he feels like he did. So you forgiving him is going to make him feel better. I don’t think we could’ve convinced him he never did anything he needed to be forgiven for- not right now.”

Wilbur and Ghostbur watch Tommy cry, both wishing desperately that Ghostbur could comfort him.

Tommy looks up, and there’s two people standing at his bedside.

“Ghostbur?” he gasps. Wilbur whips his head towards Ghostbur.

“He can see you?” he demands.

“He can see me?” Ghostbur gasps.

Tommy bursts into fresh tears all over again.

“Tommy, Tommy, c’mon, don’t cry. I- Alivebur, we really need to get some blue, I don’t have any on me.”

Tommy laughs through his tears, trying to smear them away but really only succeeding in getting his whole face wet.

“I might still have some somewhere, if you’d be willing to bust me out of this place,” he says slyly, voice wobbly from crying but no longer so distressed.

Ghostbur looks like he’s actually considering it, and so Wilbur finds himself in a position he hasn’t held for a very, very long time. The voice of reason and authority.

“Tommy, you’re on bedrest for a reason. You’ve been here for not even a day and a half, alright? Calm down.”

“I can’t live like this. I’m a prisoner in my own hotel.”

Ghostbur giggles at Tommy’s antics, and Tommy lights up, immediately ramping up the dramatics.

Eventually Wilbur laughs too, throwing his head back in mirth, and Tommy cackles, bending forward at the waist. Ghostbur’s giggles are softer, not rocking his body like the other two, but no less joyful.

Tommy looks at the signatures after they leave. Ghostbur managed to find a blue pen, drawing a whole field of cornflowers around his blue writing. Wilbur’s signature is more straight-forward, but Tommy can’t help laughing. It’s right next to Quackity’s name.. and just slightly larger.

Chapter Text

“You are the worst.”

“Hey, it’s only fair.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Listen, if XD the loser dork got to do it, I wanted to too.”

“You are no longer my favorite deity.”

Drista snorts.

“I was your favorite?”

“Not anymore, I’ll tell you that.”

“Okay. Anyways, have fun.”

“You suck.”

Jack watches in exhaustion as Tubbo and Ranboo try to chase down a panicked, tiny Tommy.

They end up having to explain everything, since Tommy isn’t taking vague explanations for an answer like they did. To be fair, he’s a bit older than they were, and a lot more paranoid.

“You’re saying you’re from the future?” Tommy asks skeptically.

“Yes,” Tubbo sighs.

“And we’re friends.”

“Yes.”

“Alright then. If you know so much about me, then what’s my favorite color?”

Tubbo fixes him with a deadpan look. “Pro-tip, wearing your favorite color for like ten years straight makes it very easy to guess.”

Tommy crosses his arms stubbornly.

“It’s red.”

Tommy relents slightly.

“Okay. If we’re friends, then you gotta give me food. And shiny stuff. Lots of shiny stuff.”

Ranboo snorts. At least Tommy isn’t that different.

“Sure. Jack’s got a whole hotel full of food and stuff to steal.”

Jack fixes Ranboo with a death glare, but softens a little into exasperation when Tommy looks at him.

“Yeah, sure,” he sighs. “C’mon, Tommy, let’s ditch these losers.”

Tommy gives him a little smirk and cheerfully grabs his hand.

“Bye!” he yells to the two teenagers, not looking back.

Oh yeah, Jack’s totally the favorite now.

He never thought he’d be fighting Tubbo over being Tommy’s favorite of all people, but the kid is super cute.

“You’ll love the hotel. It’s big and red, and there’s even a robot.”

Tommy gasps.

“A robot?!”

“Yeah. His name’s Sam Nook, he’s pretty cool.”

'GREETINGS TOMMYINNIT. YOU APPEAR TO BE SMALLER THAN WHEN I LAST SAW YOU.'

Jack stays to give Sam Nook a quick rundown as Tommy charges ahead into the hotel. He winces at the crashes sounding from inside, delegating the problem to Future Jack.

-

Wilbur looks at the tiny Tommy in bewilderment.

“Awww, he’s so cute!” Ghostbur coos, delighted. Wilbur privately agrees, but it wouldn’t be wise to say so out loud if young Tommy is anything like normal Tommy.

“Hello, Tommy,” he says awkwardly. “Did you hit reverse puberty or something?”

He’s pretty sure his brother isn’t supposed to be this small, and that there’s a deity to blame for it somewhere.

“Who’re you?” Tommy demands, squinting up at Wilbur judgmentally. It’s adorable.

“I’m Wilbur, and this is Ghostbur.” Wilbur grabs onto Ghostbur’s arm, temporarily making him visible to the rest of the world. Tommy jumps.

“Hi Tommy!” Ghostbur says excitedly. “You’re so cute!”

“No I’m not,” Tommy snaps, bristling. “I am a big man, and not cute at all!”

“Of course,” Wilbur placates. “I’m sure my good twin Ghostbur here meant ‘cool’. Not cute.”

“We should get to call him cute. Big brother privileges,” Ghostbur argues.

“Brother? I don’t have two brothers- I don’t even have one brother- and I especially don’t have a ghost brother!”

Ghostbur and his big mouth.

“You’re right,” he says, crouching down to Tommy’s level without making it obvious that’s what he’s doing and thus offending Tommy. (He learned that trick while raising Fundy)

Tommy blinks in surprise at the acknowledgment before narrowing his eyes.

“Sometimes,” Wilbur starts, trying to figure out the best way to phrase their relationship. “Sometimes two people become friends. Like, for example, a little scammer with an ear for music, and a musician with a fondness for scrappy, feral things.”

“Yeah?” Tommy still seems skeptical, but also somewhat intrigued. Wilbur’s always been a good storyteller.

“And maybe they’re both wanderers, not going anywhere in particular, but never staying in one place. And maybe, because wandering can be a lonely business, they start traveling together. Maybe they go from travel partners to friends, to something closer, in a way.”

Tommy tilts his head.

“The kid doesn’t have a family, and the musician’s never had a brother, but sometimes they joke around. ‘Oh, we’re brothers’, they say, when people ask why they travel together. ‘Look at that,’ the musician teases, ‘your hair’s getting curly like mine. Brotherly traits.’ ‘We’re like brothers, you and I,’ the kid says, instead of apologizing for stealing the musician’s guitar.”

Wilbur sighs a little, remembering those days. All wagon rides and simple strums and ripe berries picked straight from the bushes, staining fingers shades of red and blue.

“And then what?”

Oh, right. He has an audience.

“And then, maybe, it stops being a joke. They weren’t always brothers, but maybe they can be now. Maybe the musician can look at the kid and say, ‘I love you. You’re a reckless and rude and petty miscreant, and I wouldn’t change anything about you for the world. You’re so brave and wild and so, so kind despite it all. You never give up hope, never stop fighting, even when things are at their worst. You’re going to do incredible things, and I only hope I’ll be there to watch you grow. As much-” Wilbur’s voice wavers a little. “- as much as I can, I will protect and guide you. I choose you to be my family. If you will be my little brother, I want to be your big brother.”

He’s choked up by the end. There’s so many things he’s never been able to say to Tommy, so many things he should’ve but got lost somewhere between his heart and his mind and his lungs and his mouth. Suddenly everything he’s been trying to tamp down and avoid and allow in small, manageable increments is flooding him. There’s so many conflicting and powerful emotions, Wilbur jumps when a tear slides down his cheek, but he’s not really surprised.

Ghostbur puts a hand on Wilbur’s, silently asking. Wilbur obliges, wishing Ghostbur real.

Tommy jumps at Ghostbur’s sudden reappearance, but quickly recovers.

“What’s with him?” he asks, blunt as he’s always been.

“Do you ever have big feelings that make you cry?”

“No,” Tommy says quickly, sharply. “Crying’s for babies.”

“Crying doesn’t make you a baby. Look at Wilbur, is he a baby?”

“Maybe.”

Wilbur laughs at that, still sniffling.

“Should’ve expected you’ve always been a gremlin. Probably flipping people off before you could talk and properly cuss them out.”

Tommy nods proudly, forcing Ghostbur to hide snickers in his palm. He’s just so cute.

-

The spell ends after 24 hours. One second a small Tommy is climbing up a tree like a rabid squirrel as Quackity begs him to come down, and then a teenaged Tommy yelps in surprise and falls to the ground.

“Tommy!”

Wilbur and Foolish rush over.

Tommy blinks, looking around with a face of pure confusion.

“Are Ranboo’s enderwalks contagious?” he asks Quackity.

“No,” Wilbur scoffs.

“Didn’t ask you,” Tommy replies snidely.

“I don’t think so,” Quackity says. “Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure I was in the middle of making myself some soup a second ago.”

Ooookaaay.

First off, why is Tommy allowed in the kitchen? Who let him make food? Why soup?

More importantly,

“You don’t remember anything?” Foolish asks.

“Wouldn’t’ve said it if I did,” Tommy huffs.

“Oh,” Wilbur says. It’s hard to notice, but Quackity’s spent too much time playing poker to miss the subtle way Wilbur’s face falls.

“Why?” Tommy asks, with growing alarm. “What happened?”

“Drista decided XD shouldn’t get to have all the fun,” Foolish sighs.

“What??”

“Here.” Foolish pulls out a photo of little Tommy, one of the many they’ve taken.

Tommy stares at it, and for a moment, everything is so quiet that Quackity can hear Purpled swearing at his game from across the clearing.

“WHAT?!?”

Welp, there goes the quiet. Quackity’s ears are ringing, probably permanently, and he’s pretty sure Tommy’s shriek could be heard from space.

Tommy rips up the photo.

“Absolutely not,” he growls. Then he whips his head towards Foolish. “That better be the only one.”

Tommy destroys a total of fifteen photos. Luckily, each photo had been copied about seven times and distributed among members of the server in preparation for this exact scenario. Nobody’s risking pictures of little Tommy.

Besides, it’s not like Tommy gets to talk. It’s one of the worst kept secrets on the server that he combed through the Las Nevadas security system for screencaps of his friends as little kids. Fundy might be the security employee and easily bribed, but for an ex-spy, he's incredibly prone to gossip.

-

“Hey, Sam Nook?”

‘HELLO, TOMMYINNIT. WELCOME BACK. I AM PLEASED TO SEE YOU AT FULL HEALTH AND PROPER AGE.’

“Thanks, Nook. Hey, could you do me a favor?”

.

Someone is aggressively pounding on Wilbur’s door. Rude. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything warranting that kind of reaction, and he’s pretty sure Quackity hasn’t traced back that one thing to him yet, so what on earth are they so worked up about?

Wilbur, face squished into his pillow, debates staying in bed and waiting until they give up and go away.

The knocking does not cease.

“You should probably answer that,” Ghostbur tells him.

“Easy for you to say,” Wilbur grumbles resentfully. “You don’t sleep.”

With great reluctance and abject misery, Wilbur drags himself from his warm, comfortable bed, blinking groggily.

He throws open the door with the frustrated fury of someone unjustly woken from peaceful sleep.

“What on Prime’s blessed earth do you- oh. Hi, Tommy.”

Now, usually Wilbur would not hesitate to utterly destroy Tommy for committing such a heinous offense, but something about his brother’s expression suggests that this is important.

Tommy walks inside without a word, looking a little out of sorts. Wilbur follows behind, worry rising by the second.

“What’s up?” he asks, sitting next to Tommy on the edge of his bed. His brother raises his head from where he was staring at his knees, looking at Wilbur with wide, watery eyes.

Wilbur panics.

“Tommy, what’s-”

He’s cut off by Tommy slamming into him, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face into Wilbur’s sweater.

“Tommy?” Wilbur asks worriedly, instinctively hugging back. He locks eyes with Ghostbur, who looks equally as concerned. It’s easy to make him corporal, feel his slightly chilly arms joining the hug on Tommy’s other side.

Tommy pulls back, staring at Wilbur with red, tear-stained cheeks.

“I-” he croaks, failing to get words out.

“Hey, hey,” Wilbur says quietly. It’s been so long since he’s been a comforter, but he slides into the role without an excessive amount of difficulty. “When you’re ready. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Ghostbur squeezes, saying everything he needs to without a single word.

“You-” Tommy’s voice nearly vanishes again, but he pushes through, like he always has. “You’re selfish and manipulative and arrogant, and I love you more than I can even- than- than anything I can ever say. You’re clever and strong and so good even when you acted like you weren’t. You lost yourself for so long, but you’re trying so hard to get better and you really are. I missed you so much when you were gone, and I’m so happy you’re here now. You helped make me into the person I am today, a little worse but so, so much better. I love you, and I want to-” Tommy chokes on a hiccuping sob. “-to be your family, no matter what. I’m so happy to be your little brother, and I love that you’re my big brother.”

Wilbur sits there, stunned, while Tommy speaks. When he finishes, it breaks the spell, allowing Wilbur to pull Tommy into his arms again.

“How-?”

“There’s cameras in the lobby. Sam Nook showed me the tapes. You were acting shifty, a- a little sus, you might say, so I tried to figure out why.”

“We got a budding detective right here,” Ghostbur grins.

They sit for a while, Ghostbur cracking jokes, making Tommy laugh, and Wilbur giggle.

“I’ve been a lot of things,” Wilbur says softly, Tommy half asleep beside him. “But I think one of the best things I ever got to be is your older brother.”

“Same,” Tommy mumbles. “Aw, Wil, you prick. ‘M gonna cry again.”

“I’m starting to feel a little left out,” Ghostbur complains jokingly.

“I love you too, Ghostbur,” Wilbur and Tommy say dutifully, perfectly in sync.

“Well now it’s just creepy.”

The president, the solider, and the ghost laugh.

The fallen hero, the victimized child, and the amnesiac phantom spread out on the beaten, old mattress.

The monster playfully yanks blankets off the liability, while the fake copy hoards another for himself, snickering.

A man, a twin, and a teen slowly settle down.

Three brothers fall asleep, secure in each other’s company.

Three brothers are woken the next morning to blackmail photos and a bucket of water.

And, of course, it’s the same three brothers that plot revenge.