Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The door to his apartment was stuck again. With a sharp nudge from his shoulder, the door popped open. He was quiet as he closed and relocked the door so as to not wake his roommate. He kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his jacket. He padded over to the kitchen. His keys jingled together as he threw them onto the counter. He scrubbed his hands down his face and exhaled deeply. 

Tommy Innit was nothing out of the ordinary for someone who lived in South Manberg (or as he affectionately called it, L’manberg), but Tommy did not live in L’manberg. He lived in Las Nevadas, the suburb of East Manberg. Las Nevadas used to be one casino/hotel but as Quackity climbed the ladder (of crime, Tommy knew but wasn’t supposed to), his little casino turned into the entire suburb of Eastern Manberg. The people who lived there were much more put together than Tommy was. They knew more about functioning than Tommy did. He was sixteen (probably. He could’ve been fifteen, maybe seventeen. He most likely wasn’t older than eighteen though) but his parents had died a long time ago. He lived with one of his best friends now. His name was Tubbo. He was probably around seventeen though he was legally twenty. Tommy was legally nineteen. Why he couldn’t be legally older than his best friend, he didn’t know, but Quackity said it was better to keep it relatively believable (the jerk).

Quackity was Tommy’s legal guardian back when Tommy needed one. He had been twelve years old when he and his two best friends, Tubbo and Purpled, had escaped from Pogtopia. Pogtopia was this organization (it was a cult) that recruited (kidnapped) kids and educated (trained) them to be the best they could be (into living weapons). But Pogtopia was long gone. Destroyed. The three of them made sure of that. 

Tommy didn’t remember it; the day they escaped. He didn’t remember anything from his time in Pogtopia. They each were pushed to their limits in that place. Purpled’s healing had been pushed so far that he had lost his sight, Tubbo’s connection with electronics had been stretched to the point he burned his own skin, and Tommy... Well, something happened so that he couldn't remember what happened in Pogtopia. There were nightmares, of course, that plagued Tommy’s sleep. They were vivid enough to bring back that same feeling of terror that Pogtopia instilled in Purpled and Tubbo but by the time Tommy would wake up, he wouldn’t be able to remember anything aside from a few blurry faces. 

He hated it. He hated being the only one out of the three of them that could spend the day without his past breathing down his neck. Sure, his nights were bad but he was never plagued with flickers of memories in the day, when he was conscious. He never remembered it. He knew he wasn’t happy back then and he knew he hated it there but he couldn’t remember why.

Tubbo and Purpled hated talking about it so they weren’t much help with filling in Tommy’s memory. They also didn’t spend every waking hour with him back in Pogtopia. The three of them had shared a room (cell) but other than that- nothing. They each had different mentors. Tubbo had Jschlatt, the founder of Pogtopia, Purpled had Punz, the best at hand-to-hand combat and someone who knew exactly how to push Purpled’s buttons (something Purpled had admitted through his sobs one night), and Tommy had Deo- that much Tubbo and Purpled knew. Tommy remembered almost nothing about Deo. His eyes were the hardest thing to focus on though, like the pure thought of them had been scratched out of Tommy’s memory.

What exactly Tommy went through in Pogtopia would, as far as he knew, remain a mystery for the rest of time. He would never know the true horrors that he had to endure. He could never tell whether or not he was lucky he didn’t remember. Sure, he saw the way Purpled and Tubbo had their bad days where horrors plagued their every moment, pulling heavy on their limbs and marking bags under their eyes. Tommy saw it all, had comforted Tubbo through enough of those days to be well acquainted with them but there was always that want that tugged at the back of his head. He wanted to know what happened to him. He wanted to know his own past.

Tommy felt like he didn’t know who he was. Sometimes he wondered if it would change who he was now, knowing who he used to be. Tubbo had once let slip the fact that Tommy was a lot different now than he had been while they were in Pogtopia but he didn’t explain how he was different and Tommy knew better than to ask. He didn’t bring up Pogtopia.

Quackity knew not to bring up Pogtopia too. He lived with Purpled in a hotel in the outskirts of Las Nevadas no more than a twenty minute walk from Tubbo and Tommy’s flat. Mi Hijo was the name of the hotel/casino. (And yes, Quackity named his first ever casino Spanish for my son.) There was a casino on the bottom floor and eighteen above it that housed rooms. Tubbo and Tommy had lived there with Purpled when they first got out of Pogtopia but Tubbo had hated the loud noises and wanted to move out, find their own place. Sure, their apartment wasn’t as fancy as some of the others in Las Nevadas and it wasn’t in tiptop shape but it was theirs. They paid for it, decorated it and lived in it. It was theirs.

Purpled lived in the same room as Quackity on the top floor. The reason Purpled didn’t go with Tubbo and Tommy when they moved out two years ago was because he was much more attached to Quackity than the other two were. Also, Purpled liked staying in places he had mind maps of. Since he couldn’t see things, he used his mind to make maps of things. Places like Mi Hijo were where Purpled knew his way around and didn’t feel so out of place.

“Tom?”

Tommy turned his head and saw Tubbo standing in the doorway to their bedroom. (There were two bedrooms but they both preferred to not sleep alone.) Tubbo was wearing one of Tommy’s shirts (it was red with a dinosaur in the middle of it) and a pair of red chequered pyjama pants. He was rubbing one of his eyes, his hair a mess. It usually fell into his eyes (Tommy was going to have to wrangle him over to Puffy’s to get his hair cut soon. The sooner the better because Tubbo was bound to start tripping over himself if he didn’t get it cut) but the brown fluff was stuck up in many different directions. It also left his scars on full display, along with the fact they glowed.

You see, Tubbo had technopathy (the ability to connect to any electronic system) and, you remember the burn scar Tommy had mentioned before? Yeah, it was a big scar on the right side of his face that travelled down his neck, his chest and down his right arm to cover his thumb, index and middle fingers with the burn. The glowing of his scars was a golden, greenish colour depending on the lighting. In the dark, they glowed more green and in the light they glowed more golden. Tubbo had a menagerie of scars but the burn one was the biggest. It also made his right eye a more vibrant green than the other.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Tommy asked. Tubbo shook his head and shuffled into the kitchen. He winced slightly as his bare feet touched the cool tile. He continued walking though. Tommy opened his arms and Tubbo huddled into his embrace.

“Nah,” Tubbo finally said. His voice was hoarse from disuse. Tommy wondered when the last time he used it was. Because of their schedules, Tommy hadn't spoken to Tubbo in a few days. Working in a bar did that. He rarely ever worked days. Tubbo worked on little gadgets for Sam, Tommy’s immediate boss. (He also made gadgets for Tommy’s extracurricular activities but I’ll get into that later.) Sam was the owner of the bar Tommy worked at, Casa de los Girasoles; House of Sunflowers. Tubbo nor Tommy knew what Sam did with the gadgets Tubbo designed and neither were inclined to ask. Tubbo got paid well for it (Sam was rather protective when it came to Tommy and Tubbo and felt the need to make sure they had enough money to pay for things even though Tommy got paid way more than average at the bar ((no, Quackity, you were not slick when you told Tommy that fourty pounds an hour was normal))), and no one seemed to be dying bee-bot related deaths, so they figured it was fine.

Tommy rested his chin on Tubbo’s head. Their height difference was good for a lot of things, chin rests being one of them. Granted, Tubbo was heavily slumped over against Tommy but still, that was a win for Big Man Tommy. “Back to bed, yes?” Tommy offered.

Tubbo grumbled out something that Tommy couldn’t understand but he didn’t protest when Tommy guided him back to the room. Their apartment had two bedrooms, an open space with a living room and kitchen, and a bathroom. The second bedroom used to be used as a room for Purpled to crash in when he came over but when he did, the three of them just piled in one bed so it was now used as Tubbo’s lab space. It was usually a mess and littered with broken glass and exposed wires but Tommy trusted the fact Tubbo would be careful (enough).

Tubbo didn’t let Tommy go so the two of them plopped down on the bed. Tommy wrestled Tubbo under the blanket, Tubbo ending up clinging to Tommy like a koala might to a tree. Or a sloth. Tommy didn’t mind. He was well accustomed to Tubbo’s clingy behaviour and was rather clingy himself, not that he’d ever admit it aloud.

That night, Tommy didn’t have any nightmares but he slept restlessly, drifting in and out of consciousness. He eventually woke up when Tubbo got up to work on his newest invention. Tommy pulled himself from the bed, showered, and then made them both something to eat. With their limited supplies (one of them ((Tommy, it was always Tommy)) would have to go grocery shopping soon) and their array of allergies and Tubbo’s pickiness, Tommy made bacon, bagels and avocado. Tubbo was allergic to avocados so he had a bacon bagel, and bacon upset Tommy’s stomach so he had an avocado bagel.

Once coffee was brewed, Tubbo went off to his lab, keeping the door open so he and Tommy could see each other whenever the other glanced over. Tommy sat on top of the kitchen counter with his sketchbook and put in his earbuds so he could listen to music. Tommy wasn’t the best drawer in the world but he wasn’t half bad at doing rough sketches of things he looked at a lot. It was mostly Tubbo but sometimes it was moths or spiders. He didn’t know why moths and spiders but he always found himself picturing them in weird detail.

And that was how they spent their day. Neither took a break for lunch, nor did they speak much to each other. Tommy eventually had to go off to work. A quick shout and a swear shared between the roommates was all the interaction the two of them had had in hours. Casa de los Girasoles was located a train ride from Tommy’s apartment. It was near the outskirts of Las Nevadas, bordering L’manberg so it wasn’t always the busiest of places but it was one of Tommy’s homes. He loved that bar. It was especially fun when Sam worked with Tommy, the two of them mindlessly filling in the space they knew the other wouldn’t be in. That’s what happened when you worked with someone for two years.

The train was scarce of people, just the way Tommy liked it. He sat by himself with his headphones in and ignored the world around him. When the train pulled to a halt at his stop, he got up and off. He began walking to his place of employment. When he got there, the bar was already open and there were a few people gathered inside. Sam was behind the bar and was smiling warmly at the customers. Sam had green dyed hair that was dark at the roots. His irises were a deep brown, almost black but that didn’t scare people off. His work outfits consisted of black jeans, various black/grey shirts and a green jacket usually bunched up near his elbows.

People liked Sam. He was naturally charismatic, a quality Tommy did not possess. He was loud and snappy. Don’t get him wrong, he was witty and fucking hilarious but he tended to rub people the wrong way. It was hard to like the 6’3 (6 feet) big man (scrawny teen who was built like a stick) who spat swears at you whenever you pissed him off. Hey, Sam didn’t care and Quackity was always rooting for them to stick up for themselves. Tommy was just doing what he was told.

Casa de los Girasoles was a spacious building with booths lining the walls which circled the sides and of the bar that was pressed against the back wall, the first thing you saw when you walked in. The light source in Casa de los Girasoles were various fairy lights Tubbo had hung up when the bar had first opened. The legs of the stools lining the bar were various mushroom designs, some of them with small fairy houses and/or frogs. The bar itself was a slick wooden counter with different designs etched into the wood. Tommy did the pair of discs near where he usually stood and Tubbo did a lot of the flowers and bees. Karl, a regular of Casa de los Girasoles, did the rest of them. Different animals, plants and fairy related things. He also supplied their alcohol and coffee (yes they served coffee. Sam liked to have an alternative for Designated Drivers who needed to be able to keep up with their drunk, energetic friends), each bottle and to-go coffee cup having a green swirl on it.

The bell above the door opened when Tommy walked in and he smiled at the ding it let out. Sam’s eyes flicked to him and he smiled warmly. “Tommy! C’mere, put on your apron. You’re on coffee duty tonight.”

Tommy nodded and did as he was told. He pulled out his headphones, shoved them and his phone into the pockets of his cargo pants and secured the apron Sam was holding out to him around his waist. Casa de los Girasoles didn’t have a uniform so Tommy wore his deep red cargo pants and usually just whatever hoodie he could find that wasn’t being hoarded by Tubbo. Today’s was a deep purple that definitely belonged to Purpled at some point. All of the purple clothes automatically belonged to him anyway.

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

That shift started off normal enough, nothing different from a usual night; drunk people stumbling in looking for more alcohol and then harassing the sixteen-year-old behind the bar. They, of course, didn’t know he was sixteen. Even if people did know him as nineteen, drunk people rarely cared about your age. It was as disgusting as it sounded. Then it got... weird. Well, Tommy didn’t know if weird was the correct wording but it got Tommy and Sam to exchange a what the fuck is this shit glance. 

Because Phantom was there. 

Okay- here’s some context: 

Manbergians had abilities. As so, they had heroes and villains. Manberg had top heroes that ranked higher than the rest, that got to do things that others just didn’t. The top three were all a team. The Dream Team. The Number One Hero was Divine: a green clad hero who wore a white mask over his face that had a smiley face on it, powers unknown but had been seen doing some weird stuff which included glowing.

The Number Two Hero was Inferno: an orange clad hero who used a white bandana to hide his eyes (Tommy didn’t know how on Earth he saw through it but he assumed he did- well, Purpled used something over his eyes to hide his identity but he couldn’t see anything anyway), has the ability to control fire and more often than not had fire igniting between his fingers or dancing on top of his hair.

And The Number Three Hero was 404: a blue clad hero (they all have a colour scheme for some reason) that wore a pair of thick white rimmed glasses to hide his identity. He had the power to control the weather but mostly used storms to manipulate lightening and tornadoes as a way to aid him in a fight.

While also having top heroes, Manberg had top villains too, a group called the Syndicate. Well, they weren't 'top villains' and more so the villains most deemed threats and were to never be engaged with unless you were a highly trained hero, but everyone just called them the top villains. There wasn’t much known about the relationships between the villains but sometimes, if you got close enough, you could hear the Angel of Death lecturing his fellow villains with the same tone one might use to scold their kids.

The Number One Villain was Protesilaus: a red clad villain (yes, villains had colour schemes too) that sometimes went by the Blood God because of his affiliation with that one time he slaughtered all these people. (Okay, Tommy probably wasn’t alive for it ((it was six years ago, he was)) and he didn’t go to school to be able to learn about history so don’t shit on his commentating.) Protesilaus’ powers were mostly unknown, which was the same for all villains, but shadows seemed to bend at his will, crowd around him and make him look all that more terrifying, helped greatly by the fucking boar skull he wore as a mask.

The Number Two Villain was Phantom: a brown clad villain (he could’ve tried harder, let’s be real) who wore a gas mask to hide the bottom half of his face. He had the ability to phase himself through objects or phase other objects through him or another teammate. He had the annoying habit of shouting “Going Ghost” before doing so which annoyed the heroes to no end, which then caused him to take even more joy in doing so. Tommy didn’t get why it was so aggravating but there was a scandal a couple years ago because of it where people thought Phantom’s real name was Danny which Tommy also didn’t get, so eh.

And the Number Three Villain was the Angel of Death: a black clad villain who used a veil to hide his face and his powers were supposedly the manipulation of dead things but again, Tommy wasn’t alive for The Big War (Tommy didn't know what it was offically called but The Big War seemed better than whatever those fuckers came up with) and he didn’t entirely buy the whole “Angel of Death” thing. He was given his name because, as far as the skeptics and crazy crystal ladies were concerned, he actually was an angel of Death herself.

Besides a brief pause, Tommy continued making the drinks he was tasked with and then pushed them across the bar to their respective owners, Sam doing the same. In one of the customer’s clumsy hurry to get out of the villain’s path, they split their beer all over the counter, hurrying away afterwards. Sam would've usually sighed deeply at the mess but he just kind of stared at it. Tommy, with nothing else to do, grabbed a cloth in order to clean it up. He shot Sam a look, which he didn't return. He was glancing nervously- anxiously at the villain.

“What can we get you?” Tommy asked in Phantom’s general direction. 

Phantom blinked at him. He looked confused for a moment. Then he blinked again and his eyes creased as he grinned. His mask covered his mouth but Tommy somehow knew he was grinning. Tommy felt a jolt of fear zip down his spine. He hated that, actually. He hated villains in general, actually. “Can I get a shot?” Phantom asked, voice crackly and muffled slightly through his mask and voice changer. The mask made him look dumb. He was also wearing a trench coat. In fucking Summer. Sure, Tommy always had his skin covered due to his recognisable ability but come on, a full length fucking trench coat, a black sweater, fingerless gloves, black jeans and big fucking combat boots? Fucking hell, Tommy hated this guy with a passion. Also, what kind of villain comes into some random ass bar and asks for a shot? Also, a shot of fucking what, prick? 

“Of?” Sam asked as he grabbed a shot glass. 

Tommy held his tongue, his instincts just begging Tommy to curse the villain to hell and back. He wasn’t going to curse at Phantom though because, no matter how big of a man Tommy was, this was the No. 2 villain and he didn’t actually want to get his face blown off. He also wasn’t confident with the fact he could take this guy. He probably could but it would look so bad for Phantom if he lost. (Tommy would definitely get his ass handed to him.) 

“Tequila- Hey, I’ve got a question,” Phantom said. He leaned his forearms against the counter, eyes staying on Tommy. “Why does this not phase you?”

Tommy stared blankly at him. His grip on the towel tightened and he used all of his willpower to not look away anxiously. “Look, it’s not illegal to dress up like a villain in Las Nevadas and I, frankly, don’t get paid enough to give a shit.” Which was only half true. The laws in Las Nevadas, under Quackity’s manipulation, were different to the laws in the other parts of Manberg where it was illegal to dress up like a villain because one could never be sure if they really were villains. However, in Las Nevadas, if no one could definitively prove you were a villain, you were pleased to wear whatever you wanted. Honestly, with how much villains were technically legal in Las Nevadas, Tommy was surprised this was the first time he was seeing the man in person. 

What was not true about what Tommy said was that if Tommy let Quackity pay him more, he would. Sam would also agree to a pay rise without any hesitation.

Phantom blinked. “I like it here.” He grabbed the shot glass Sam had filled, paid for it, then proceed to throw it over his shoulder. The liquid splashed on the ground and Tommy’s mouth fell open. OI! Tommy was the one who had to clean that up, dickface! Phantom put the glass back on the counter. “Thanks.” He turned around and left.

“You’re fucking welcome,” Tommy spat, flipping the closed door off to make himself feel better because Phantom was a right twat. Tommy previously had no strong feelings about villains or heroes but he did now. Villains sucked and heroes were better. Phantom was, also, not Tommy’s second favourite villain anymore. It went The Angel of Death (obviously because he was the best and he was the exception to the ‘all villains sucked’ statement) and then Protesilaus. Fuck Phantom and his number two spot. He would never be number one (ignoring the fact he had been number one for two years before Protesilaus joined the scene. Fuck Phantom).

“Did that just happen?” Sam asked. Tommy continued to grumble as he went to get the mop. His phone chimed a few times and Tommy took it from his pocket. Many messages from Tubbo. The first was asking if he was alright, in reference to the wound that Tommy had practically forgotten about! The other texts were worried spams about Phantom being in the bar. Tubbo could be a bit of a worrier when it came to Tommy and his safety. 

Tommy glanced at the camera in the corner of the bar. He gave it an assuring smile before texting Tubbo back, telling him he was fine and that was by far one of the strangest interactions he had ever had. From Tubbo’s lab back at the apartment, he could look through all of the security cameras in Las Nevadas and often checked in on Tommy, just to make sure he was okay. He usually didn’t do it too much but he did like to know that Tommy was okay. Tommy also found it very fun to glance at the camera when something out of pocket happened. It made him feel like he was breaking the fourth wall in a TV show.

Chapter Text

Sam was a mystery to Tommy. He was a very private person, no matter his motherlyness towards the boys. That meant these were the facts Tommy and Tubbo collectively knew about Sam:

1. His name was Sam Guardian (they may or may not have made up that last name, they couldn’t remember).
2. He worked at a bar called Casa de los Girasoles.
3. He had a white, very fluffy service dog named Fran that helped Sam with his bionic leg when it was giving him trouble. She was also there for emotional support. 
4. He had a bionic leg. How he lost it was unknown but it most likely got cut off. Maybe.
5. He liked mechanics enough to know the basics.
6. He did something with the things Tubbo made for him but what was still unknown.
7. He lived in Manberg. Where was unknown. 
8. He was good friends with Quackity, enough so that Q trusted him with the boys.
9. He could be extremely protective when he needed to be.

Aaaaaand that was it. Those nine facts were the only things they knew about him and some of them were only really half facts. Fuck, the guy didn’t even have to live in Manberg. The guy could’ve lived in Kinoko or Snowchester or some shit. Or fucking Gotham! Who knew?! 

And no, it did not piss Tommy off that he didn’t know anything about this guy. Of course it didn’t. He couldn’t care less. 

Okay it pissed him off a little. How could he know so little about someone he spent a lot of his time with? It wasn’t physically possible! He thought he had every right to know everything about Sam! But he didn’t. He didn’t and it pissed him off a little. A lot. It didn’t piss him off! You piss him off.

“Uh, kid, you alright?” Sam asked, a hand coming down in front of Tommy’s face. He blinked and looked at the man who was leaning against the table Tommy was wiping down. They were closing.

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, big man, I’m fine.”

“Mhm.” Sam made an amused face. “You look fine.” Tommy continued to nod. “Hey, Tom, I think you got it.” 

Tommy made a confused noise before looking down. He had been mindlessly scrubbing the same, now clean, spot on the table. He cleared his throat. “Just makin’ sure, Big S. Gotta keep all of these tables squeaky clean.”

Sam snorted. “Sure.” He reached over and patted Tommy on the shoulder. Sam wasn’t a very affectionate person but he liked to pat people on the head or ruffle their hair when they did something good. It was mostly just Tommy, Tubbo and occasionally Purpled that Tommy saw him do it to. Well, he didn’t do it to Tommy because the one time he tried, Tommy got sent into a panic attack so deep that it took almost an hour for Tubbo to coax him back to the real world. Yeah, safe to say that Sam was never going to do that shit again. 

People touching his hair... Tommy didn’t like it. He didn’t know why- some reminiant of Pogtopia, probably, another thing he couldn’t remember. There was only one person who he allowed to touch his hair and that was Tubbo. He couldn’t even stand Purpled touching his hair. When Tommy asked about it, Purpled had gotten really... quiet and a bit pale (well, paler than usual) so Tommy just hugged him and never brought it up again. 

“Hey, I gotta head out. Some important shit to do.” Sam lifted his hand and gripped his bag strap. “You’ve got tomorrow night off, remember?” Tommy nodded. “Get some rest and I’ll see you the day after. Night, kiddo.” 

“Good night, Sam.” 

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

Sam was going to kill him. Knife into the jugular kind of kill him. When Sam arrived back at the base, he wasted no time in storming to the room he found himself storming to a lot. His footsteps were harsh, even on the carpet as he stormed through the apartment building the villains all lived in. Sam’s hand came down on the door in more of a bang than a knock. There was a snort and then a: “Come in!” 

Sam threw the door open and glared at the man sitting at the end of the bed, guitar on his knee. Usually seeing the kid (kid? The man was twenty-three, Sam) with the sleeves of his sweater rolled up high enough to see where his skin became a tad translucent (because it was so thin, therefore very vulnerable) made Sam happy but right now- Prime, all Sam wanted to do was punch him. Punch him in those stupid glasses just because Sam wanted him to understand what he could’ve started. “I’m going to cut out your throat,” he warned. 

Wilbur looked up at him and opened his mouth. He must’ve seen how not joking Sam was currently and back tracked. “Wait- fuck, you’re actually mad?” 

“I’m-” Sam ran a hand through his hair and tugged on the ends of it. “Of course I’m mad, Wilbur! I have one rule- one fucking rule. Stay away from my kids. That means stay away from the bar when you know the kid’s working. How hard is that?”

Wilbur set his guitar to the side. “I was bored waiting for Techno to finish setting up-” 

“One rule!” Sam cut in. He groaned but paused and took a deep breath. He had to calm down. This was Wilbur. Just because Sam cared about Tommy, didn’t mean he suddenly didn’t care about Wilbur. Sam scrubbed his hands down his face. He took another deep breath. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he said as calmly as he could (which, admittedly, wasn’t very). “It’s just-” He groaned. “You know how much I care about that kid. If he found out- if he got hurt because of me I would never forgive myself.” 

Wilbur gave a small smile. He patted the spot next to him and Sam walked into the room. He sat down on the bed and let Wilbur throw an arm around his shoulders. “You’re a good person, Sam,” Wilbur said. He poked a finger into Sam’s cheek and the man let out a breath. “Going to the bar was uncalled for. I won’t do it again. You’ll forget I even exist.”

Sam gave a weak smile. “Thanks, Wil.” 

Wilbur nodded, entirely serious. He knew how Sam was about this. Tommy and Tubbo were such good kids and they did not deserve to be swept up in the world of heroes and villains, no matter how much Sam wanted to horde those kids in this building and hide them from the things they feared. He couldn’t do that, he knew, but he wanted to. He wanted those kids to have happy lives. If he could even contribute to that in the slightest, he was going to try his damned well hardest to make that happen. That meant keeping them both away from villains. From heroes. From everything Sam’s spent his life building. 

Sam sighed. He thanked Wilbur again, patted the kid on the head before bidding him goodbye and leaving. When Sam was in the hallway, he took a deep breath. He had spent his entire life trying to make this country a good one. He had been working so hard to take out the corruption and he hadn’t done anything. Sure, he’d had his fair share of wins but he’d also had his fair share of losses. He felt like he was losing more than he was gaining lately- especially with the bust their latest stunt had been. They’d gotten a shitty tip and almost gotten themselves killed in some kind of trap. They had all felt very defeated after that. 

Then there was that embarrassment of a stakeout the other day which turned out to be them waiting out in the cold for no reason, there was that opportunity to get intel for the trafficking ring that slipped through their fingers, there was all of the hurt still going on in the world- 

Prime, sometimes Sam really did feel like a villain. He had become a part of the Syndicate to help people in a way being a Hero couldn’t and- and he had made no real impact.

“You’re upset.” 

Sam huffed. He looked over at the woman leaning against the wall a few doors away from him. She had her arms crossed and she was giving him that look. “Phantom came into Casa de los Girasoles today.” 

Puffy winced. She was Sam’s best friend. She lived in the apartment next to his. She also owned the hair salon opposite the bar. Her white floofy hair also reminded him of his dog. Hm, he missed her. Sam should go feed her. She hated being inside all day. Sam began walking and Puffy followed. The bandana she was wearing around her head that day was red, a comb behind one of her ears and her clothes streaked with what was most likely hair-dye. “He broke the One Rule. Rookie mistake.” She tsked and Sam let out a laugh. 

“Yeah.” He went up the stairs and Puffy continued to follow. He got out his keys, the multiple keys and keychains clinking together as he did. He smiled at the small plastic creeper Tommy had gotten him. “So my day sucked. The kid seems fine though, if not a bit spacey at the end of his shift.” Sam frowned. He shook his head. He pushed open the door to the stairwell and then held it open for Puffy. 

“He’ll be alright,” she assured. She gave him a small nod of thanks for holding the door open for her. “This is Tommy Innit we’re talking about.” 

Sam chuckled. He let the door close. “You’re right.” He smiled to himself as he unlocked his door and stepped inside, pushing the door just a bit so Puffy could come in after him. He left her to shut and lock the door. Locking the door wasn’t entirely necessary considering the entire building was very security heavy and there was no way anyone was getting into the Syndicate’s Base of Operations. Still, some of the people who lived there (most of them) did not understand the concept of personal space so it was better to lock your doors if you didn’t specifically want company. 

Sam whistled and Fran came pattering out to him. She yapped happily that he was home, tail tapping happily against the floor, and Sam bent down to give her attention. After a quick assessment that everything with both Sam and Puffy were fine, she let herself get her daily dose of affection. Puffy knelt down next to Sam and ran her fingers through Fran’s white fur. “How are you?” 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, sparing her just a glance before looking back down at Fran. 

Puffy blew out a breath, a stray curl swaying at the action. “Sammy, look at me.” 

Unable to disobey her when she called him that, Sam turned his head and looked at her. She reached over to punch his arm lightly. “What was that for?” Sam asked.

“You’re an idiot,” was all she said. Then she smiled, warm and kind. “But you’re a lovable idiot who means a lot to me so it’s easy to tell how much Tommy means to you. You’ve tried so hard to keep him and Tubbo away from villains. I can’t imagine Wilbur waltzing in was a particularly nice experience.”

Sam snorted but there was nothing funny about the image of Tommy’s face if he ever found out Sam was a villain. It was hard for Sam to think of for long periods of time. Fran, sensing Sam’s little spike of panic, pushed her head into his hand. He sunk his fingers into her fur to make himself feel better. “I swear my heart stopped. I would’ve just stood there, gaping like an idiot if it wasn’t for Tom stepping up and mostly dealing with Phantom.” Sam’s face twisted. “I didn’t care for the attention Wilbur gave the kid either. It was like...”

Sam frowned and stood up. He stretched out his arms above his head as Puffy stood as well. Fran plonked herself right on Sam’s foot, pressing her face into his leg. “Do you remember the first time Phil saw Techno? That look on his face when he brought home Wilbur?”

Puffy nodded. “I do. It was his ‘Baby. My baby.’ look.” 

Sam nodded. “It was that look. Wilbur had that look on his face.” He ran his hand through his hair as Puffy failed to hold back her wince. “If Wil gets attached to Tommy he’s never going to let the kid go. Wilbur won’t back down. He’ll get Tommy killed, I just know he will.” 

Puffy had no words of assurance for Sam. She knew, as well as he did, how stubborn Wilbur Soot could be. If he set his mind on adopting Tommy then he would. Sam just had to hope Wilbur wasn’t dumb enough to go back to Casa de los Girasoles.

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

There’s something you might be able to tell about Tommy. He wasn’t... the easiest to love- And he didn’t exactly go throwing around the ‘L’ word himself. He loved Tubbo and he loved Purpled but he took years to be able to trust them, let alone love them. Even as a young child (before Pogtopia) he was always cautious of people’s real intentions. 

So, tell him why when a trio of people Tommy’s never seen before came into the bar; one of them looking anxious and uncomfortable, one of them smiling far too wide and one of them looking a deep rooted tired, Tommy fell instantly into the flow of them, laughing and joking with the group. Sure, he didn’t give them his phone number and home address but he was smiling, laughing. He was happy with these strangers. He’d never felt like that before. 

Dream, the tall blonde that looked uncomfortable, was being herded around Manberg by his best friends on his day off because, and I quote, “The dude’s got issues,” as his smiling friend would put it. Dream didn’t want to be in a bar day-drinking but he still stayed with his friends. Tommy brought him glasses of water and sometimes apple juice, if he asked, and his friends never once forced him to drink with them. Also, Tommy had a feeling he was sitting on the other side of the booth compared to his best friends to try and dodge most of the chaos. 

(It didn’t work. Dream had salt in his hair.)

As far as Tommy could tell, Dream wasn’t any kind of hybrid and his powers weren’t obvious. His eyes were a soft emerald green and he was lean rather than bulky but he looked to be in relatively good shape. It was kind of hard to tell under the green hoodie and black loose jeans. His jeans were embroidered with stars and his hoodie had black detailing around the seams. 

Sapnap, the dark-haired smiling one, looked to be having a good time. Whenever Tommy put his attention on the trio, they were either laughing or taking the piss out of each other- literally. Tommy had heard both of Dream’s friends call him a piss baby 24 times in the 45 minutes the three of them had been in the bar. Sapnap didn’t have more than one beer but he drank it slowly and talked animatedly to his best friends. 

Tommy reckoned, because of his amazing detective skills, that Sapnap had some sort of fire ability. (Sapnap had a habit of accidentally setting things on fire, Tommy’s detective skills were worse than Purpled’s social skills.) There was soot smeared at the ends of Sapnap’s fingers all the time though he never seemed to get it on anything so Tommy assumed that was the natural state of his fingers. He had brown eyes but Tommy swore they were a goldish/orange in certain light. Sapnap was more on the bulky than lean side of buff. It was easy to tell because of the tanktop he was wearing- and honestly, he kept flexing his biceps every chance he got even though both of his friends kept rolling their eyes at him. (Tommy found this very amusing.)

George, the dark-haired tired one, had been downing glasses of whiskey like it was nothing since the trio had sat down. He didn’t seem to be actually affected by the alcohol (something to do with his abilities, probably) but you see, Tommy had this rule that he wouldn’t serve people more than 4 drinks an hour. Well, no more than 4 alcoholic drinks in the span of an hour. After George’s fourth, Tommy gave him glasses of apple juice that looked enough like whiskey that people drunk off their tits couldn’t tell the difference. George could but said nothing as he continued to down them. He was more on the quiet side compared to the man sitting next to him who shouted at the top of his lungs any chance he got (Sapnap) but he didn’t look any more out of place than the other two did.

George’s powers were obvious to Tommy too. (That time was because of Tommy’s observation skills, his shitty detective skills doing nothing to help him.) His hands were covered in ice-like crystals and they trailed up his wrists before fading out. He had very pale skin but the ice on his hands was pure white, as were his eyelashes and the freckles on his cheeks. If Tommy wasn't mistaken (which he rarely was), George's freckles were small snowflakes. George clearly had an ice ability. His eyes were brown... Or blue... Or grey... Tommy couldn't remember. He found it difficult to remember what colour George's eyes were when he looked away from them.

You know how some people say that trios didn’t work and that there was always a duo in a trio? Well, this was a prime example of how trios did work. There wasn’t something specific about these people that set them apart from all of the others Tommy served on a daily basis, there were just a bunch of little things that made Tommy feel how much these three truly loved each other. Yes, they all felt the L word towards each other. Sapnap spouted off the words every chance he got. Dream usually said it back with a laugh and a fond look in his eyes while George just rolled his eyes but it was fond, the way he called the smiling man an idiot. 

And the best part? They were nice to Tommy. Sapnap’s smile was infectious. Tommy couldn’t not smile whenever he looked over at them. AND Sapnap beckoned him over when he saw Tommy wasn’t serving any customers. It was the middle of the day on a Thursday after all so he was more often than not without a customer. The trio never failed to make him laugh whether that be Sapnap’s awful puns, Dream’s wheezing laugh or George’s dark humour. He couldn’t stop laughing. 

“NO WAY!” Tommy yelled as he doubled over, clutching his stomach. Dream and Sapnap were also laughing while George was rolling his eyes. Tears pricked Tommy’s eyes but he didn’t care. He was happy. He couldn’t entirely remember why he was laughing but it seemed insignificant when George whacked the back of Sapnap’s head and the two of them started rough housing, smiles never leaving their faces. It felt nice. Like what a normal friend group was like without being thoroughly traumatised.

Wait- Tommy loved his friends. He loved Tubbo and Purpled more than anything. He just... Sometimes he felt like everything was bad and he couldn’t do anything to help. He didn’t really know what it was like back in Pogtopia. He couldn’t really remember it. He didn’t know what Tubbo and Purpled were going through and he felt like he couldn’t help. And that felt bad. He hated that feeling. 

“You okay?” A hand squeezed his shoulder and Tommy looked over. He hadn’t realised when his laughter had died out. Sapnap and George were still messing with each other while Dream was now standing instead of sitting in the booth like he had been a moment ago. He had his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. They were around the same height (Dream was a couple inches taller) despite Dream being at least fifty years older than him. 

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, big man! I’m fine.” He gave a grin but Dream didn’t seem to believe his fake smile. 

“Right.” Dream’s hand tightened for a moment before he gave an easy smile and let go. He opened his mouth to say something but a ringtone redirected his attention to Sapnap, who ignored it and Dream whacked him upside the head. 

“Wha- Dude!” Sapnap rubbed his head.

“It could be important,” Dream said pointedly.

“Maybe,” Sapnap conceded. “But there are other people who can deal with it. It’s your day off.”

“It probably doesn’t help that all three of us are here,” George said nonchalantly, like it wasn’t a big deal. Tommy didn’t get why it was a big deal but the anxiousness that was seeping out of Dream was enough for Tommy to understand well enough. George reached over and took the bottle of beer from in front of Sapnap to take a sip. Sapnap didn’t bat an eye at the stolen drink, nor did he bat an eye when Tommy plucked the drink from George’s hands and set it back in front of Sapnap. George pouted at Tommy who glared and mouthed ‘Fuck you, alcoholic ass.’  

“There are more than capable people who can fill in for us,” Sapnap said to Dream. 

Dream huffed. He crossed his arms. “Not if something bad happens.” He gave Sapnap a pointed look. 

“Nothing bad’s gonna-”

BOOM!

The ground shook and Tommy felt pure, unadulterated terror course through him. Flashes of dead children, rubble, blood- a lot of blood- ran through his mind but were gone a moment later, leaving Tommy the feeling but not the memories. Dream grabbed his arm to make sure Tommy didn’t fall. Tommy was wearing his usual ‘uniform’ so his arms were covered but Dream’s touch made some of his tattoos shift. Tommy tried not to be freaked out more by that. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

“You jinxed it,” George sighed once the short shake was over. The two of them started getting up from the booth. Tommy released his death grip on Dream’s arm, his panic slowly settling. Dream shot him a you good? look. He gave a small smile and a nod. George gave a lazy glare to Sapnap. “You fucking jinxed it, idiot.”

Sapnap huffed. He started mumbling about how this wasn’t his fault while Dream paid for their drinks. The pads of Tommy’s fingers brushed over the 50 pound note in his hand. “Thanks, kid,” Dream said. He patted Tommy’s shoulder. “You do coffee here, right?” Tommy nodded. “I’ll be back in about an hour, maybe two, so can you make me an iced coffee with oat milk, vanilla syrup, a shot of espresso and whipped cream when I get here? I’m probably going to be too tired to order it myself.”

Tommy continued to nod as he pulled out his pad of paper from his apron pocket and wrote down the order. “‘Course.” 

Dream smiled at him, kind. “I’ll see you soon.” And then George was pulling him out of the bar. Tommy watched them go with this- giddy feeling. Dream was coming back. Prime, he needed help. 

Tommy’s phone rang and he answered it as he walked back over to the bar while rethinking his life choices. “What?”

“You really need to change the way you answer the phone,” Tubbo mused. 

Tommy hummed. “I’ll get right on that.” He was not going to get right on that. “What’s up?”

“Phantom blew up one of the railways in Central. Rocked a lot of Las Nevadas. Q’s worrying.”

Tommy put a hand over his heart and dramatically looked up at the camera. “You’re so kind, Tubs. I really feel like you really care about me.” 

“Suck my dick, Tom.”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” 

“Alright, alright, back on track please,” Quackity’s amused voice came from Tubbo’s side of the call. “Are you okay, Tommy?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Casa de los Girasoles is fine too.” 

Quackity huffed. “I care more about you than the bar, kid.”

“Sure,” Tommy said. He leaned against the counter. The door opened and a customer came in. “Customer. I gotta go. See you tonight, Tubs.” 

“Bye-bye.”

Beep beep beep.

Chapter Text

Dream was going to kill Sapnap. He was going to kill him. It was all his fault! If Sapnap had been able to keep his Prime damn mouth shut then Phantom wouldn’t’ve blown up a railway track and their time at Casa de los Girasoles wouldn’t’ve been cut short! 

Okay, Dream may have been being a little dramatic but he would not be changing his mind on the fact this is all Sapnap’s fault. Now was not the time to be planning his best friend’s murder though. Dream needed to focus. After the three top heroes had suited up, they’d been called in to deal with Phantom as expected. Well, the Hero Commission called and asked if they could take time out of their “lazy day” to be able to apprehend Phantom and save hundreds of lives. The Commission knew they didn’t have to order the team to help, they were always going to help save the city, their own health be damned. 

“Sir!” Vulpine called as Divine, 404 and Inferno walked over to them. There was a team of uniformed officers as well as a couple of heroes, Vulpine being one of them. Vulpine was one of the younger heroes. Dream himself was a young hero. For Prime’s sake, he was only twenty-four. Vulpine was nineteen though and in the top fifteen heroes. It was pretty impressive. (Not mentioning how Dream got to the number one spot at nineteen and hadn’t dropped down since. He was the youngest Hero to reach the number one spot and he was the only one to hold the spot for that long.)

“Do we have an evac team?” Dream asked. Since he was the highest ranking Hero there (and everywhere else), it was his job to give out orders. 

“Minor heroes are getting to any civilians they can and we’ve got ambulances on the way,” Vulpine reported. 

“And Phantom?” 404 asked. 

“Over there.” Vulpine pointed to the station. It was completely blown to pieces, debris the only thing left of it. Dread swirled in Dream’s stomach. If he’d been on patrol then he might’ve spotted Phantom before all of this. If he had been there he might’ve been able to save those people’s lives. 

A hand settled on Dream’s upper arm. “There’s nothing we can do about that now,” Inferno said lowly. “We have to move forward. Tell us what to do, Divine.” 

Dream took a deep breath. He nodded. “Right.” He turned to everyone. “Uniforms, your job is civilian protection. Vulpine, Mission and Frost, I want a sweep of the surrounding block, just general checks of alley’s or anywhere Phantom may have stashed more bombs.” 

As Dream listed off what he wanted people to do, they split off to go do just that. Inferno, 404 and Dream were the only ones left. “404, you’re up against Phantom since your skills are most compatible with his. Inferno and I will be on standby to step in if you need assistance or if other syndicate members arrive.”

404 nodded. He reached over to squeeze Dream’s shoulder before running off to where Phantom was. Dream took another deep breath before he followed Inferno to a neighbouring building where the two of them could crouch and wait. They could only sometimes hear Phantom through 404’s comms but he was the same arrogant dick he usually was. He didn’t seem to have any ulterior motives, just a spur of the moment bombing. It wasn’t the first time that had happened.

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

Sometimes Dream felt like he was babysitting. Heroes or villains, it didn’t matter. It always seemed like his job was babysitting misbehaving children. Some of the lower ranking heroes listened to him well enough but they were too inexperienced to do anything useful and the higher ranking heroes rarely ever took him seriously enough because he was so young. Or they were being petty. Inferno and 404 knew when was time to listen and knew when Dream could handle their (inferno’s) infuriativeness. However, aside from those two (some of the time), Dream was a babysitter. 

Dream’s exhaustion must’ve shown on his face because when he walked into Casa de los Girasoles four hours later, Tommy gave him a sympathetic look. “Rough day?”

Dream hummed. He rubbed at his eyes. Phantom refused to cooperate. His and 404’s fight had lasted four fucking hours. And the villain had gotten away- again. “You have no idea.” Dream dropped his hand and smiled weakly. “I could use that coffee.”

Tommy nodded. He went to work on Dream’s drink. Dream took that moment to look around the bar. It was a standard bar but it also had a comfortableness to it that Dream couldn’t explain the origin of. He could also tell why Karl liked it so much though. The walls were adorned with fairy lights, and the barstools all looked like different mushrooms. The bar was also getting busier now that it was getting later in the day. 

Dream’s drink got done quickly and he paid for it. “Thanks, kid,” Dream said. He took a sip and smiled down at it. The kid was good. 

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a kid.” 

Dream tilted his head. “Alright, buddy.” 

He scrunched up his face. “My name is Tommy.” 

Dream smiled. “Well, Tommy, you make amazing coffee.” He took another sip of it. He got out a fifty dollar note and put it in the tip jar. 

“Wha-” Tommy gaped at it as Dream walked away. “Dream!” 

“Bye, kid!” 

Tommy’s grumbles followed Dream out of the bar and it made Dream smile to himself. It turned out that today wasn’t half bad.

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

Dream sighed as he finally got to his apartment. Most of the top heroes lived in the Hero Tower. Dream lived on a floor with his best friends. To get onto the floor one needed a code and keycard that only the three of them had so it wasn’t necessary to lock the doors to their apartments. Dream did it when none of them were home just in case. He could be a little paranoid. 

Since George and Sapnap were already in their apartments, Dream didn’t lock the door after he closed it. He was inside it anyway. He chucked his keys onto the kitchen counter that was to the right, the living room to the left. There was a hallway directly in front of the door that led to the bedrooms and the bathroom.

“I’m home!” Dream called. He heard a muffled noise and smiled. His mother was a busy bee. Dream moved to the oven and opened it. As usual, there was left over dinner there for him. Prime, his mum was the best. He took out the bowl of mac and cheese and put it on the counter. He grabbed a fork and began eating. He had just pulled out his phone when his mother walked out from the hallway. She smiled at Dream and he smiled back, setting his phone onto the counter.

“Hello, duckling,” Puffy said, kind as ever. She was a few inches shorter than Dream but she made up for it in attitude. She had big puffy white hair that more often than not had streaks of colour through one side. Right now it was streaks of purples and pinks. She was wearing her uniform so Dream doubted she’d been home long. She worked as a hairdresser in her salon opposite the bar Karl had recommended to them, Casa de los Girasoles. (Dream didn’t understand why Puffy wanted to work in Las Nevadas but he wasn’t about to question her decision. He wanted to live, thank you.) Puffy’s eyes were blue with small hints of green and they shone whenever she looked at her son, her pride and joy.

Puffy untied her apron and set it on the counter. Her white shirt and pale corset were covered in dye but that was how she liked it. Her flowy skirt was also covered in dye but less so because of her apron- which she only wore around her waist which completely removed the entire purpose of the apron in Dream’s expert opinion. The only thing spotless were Puffy’s boots, her most prized possessions. That and the jewelry she was adorned with. Bracelets, necklaces, rings, earings. You name it, Puffy was wearing it. She even had an eyebrow piercing and a labret piercing, the one that goes through the middle of her bottom lip.

Puffy’s abilities caused the ends of her fingers to be completely white and it faded out in crystal-like ice along her skin, not unlike George’s but it was just her fingers and a bit of her hands that were covered while George’s stretched down his wrists. Puffy had the ability to control ice. She rarely ever used them for anything other than mundane tasks, like reducing a fever when Dream was sick or chilling a drink or food. 

“How was your day off?” Puffy asked. 

“Well, my dear mother, I spent about two hours of it being convinced by Sapnap to go to a bar, then I got kidnapped by said “friend”-” Puffy gave a small laugh at Dream’s use of quotation marks. “And taken to the bar. It was fun though. The kid who works there- Well, I’m pretty sure he’s not actually a kid but I’ll have to ask the next time I see him.” Dream shook his head at his own tangent. “Anyway, it was the one opposite your salon.”

“Casa de los Girasoles?”

Dream nodded. “Yeah. Tommy served us. He’s a good kid. Fun. But I spent not even an hour there before Sapnap jinxed us and made Phantom blow up the train station in Central Manberg.”

Puffy laughed. She stepped forwards and pressed a kiss to Dream’s head. “Oh poor baby. I was planning on going out for ice cream by myself but if you wanted to tag along, I wouldn’t mind.” 

Dream smiled at her. “Of course. Just let me finish this and then we can go, okay?”

Puffy nodded. She ruffled her kid’s hair. “Alright. I’ll go get changed.” She left and Dream continued eating his dinner. Well, he wasn’t sure this counted as dinner. He hadn’t had lunch. Or breakfast. And he really couldn’t remember the last time he actually had a meal at the correct time. He had to eat a certain amount of food each day to keep in tip top shape but if he didn’t, he’d probably forget to eat for days. 

Shaking his head, Dream finished his mac and cheese and then filled the bowl with hot water, leaving it in the sink to soak. He’d clean it when they got back. Puffy still wasn’t done so Dream went to his room and changed his own clothes. Not a lot of Puffy’s things were in Dream’s apartment. She didn’t really have a set place to live. Sometimes she stayed with Dream and sometimes she stayed in her own apartment. Dream didn’t mind. He was a big kid, he didn’t need his mum to live with him to be able to survive. 

Ring ring ring.

Dream grabbed his phone and hit answer before really looking at the caller ID. “Hello?” Dream put his phone on speaker and then chucked it on his bed.

“Hey.” It was George.

“Everything okay?” Dream asked as he pulled off his hoodie. 

“Fine, just putting in my report for the Commission of our encounter with Phantom.”

“And you’re calling me because...?” Dream switched out his jeans for cargo pants. 

“Because this is boring and I want you to do it for me,” George all but whined. 

Dream laughed. He pulled on his boots, the ones with the charms attached to the laces. A gift from Sapnap. They were a moth, a spider and a music disk. “You’re 25, George. You’re more than capable of doing your own paperwork.” 

George huffed. “We should get an intern.”

“No,” Dream said without any hesitation. They’d had this conversation many times already. Because of George’s abilities he got tired very quickly. And while Dream’s arch nemesis was Protesilaus, George’s was paperwork. The stack of paperwork he’d been procrastinating all week. (And there was always a stack of paperwork because George was horrible at doing it on time.) Dream then had to come save him from said stacks of paperwork, doing George’s alongside his own. Prime, George didn’t deserve him. 

George kept whining as Dream chucked on a shirt and then a dark green sweater. He slipped the chain that held twin rings around his neck and down his shirt. Then he put on the black band Sapnap had got him for his last birthday on his right index finger. It had green accents on it for Dream’s favourite colour. He took his phone off speaker and walked out of his room, Puffy just leaving hers.

Puffy gave him a quizzical look and he mouthed George. Puffy gave a nod of acknowledgement and offered Dream his facemask. When leaving the tower Dream always wore a black face mask so that if people did know who he was, they didn’t see his full face. He secured it on. “Look, Georgie, if you really need me, I’ll cover some of your paperwork- some. Not all of it.” 

George let out a happy noise. “Thanks Dream!” Aaand then he hung up since he’d gotten what he wanted. Dream sighed and put his phone away. He wasn’t really upset. He knew George and knew he could get overwhelmed sometimes whilst fighting his arch nemesis. Dream would do anything to help him and he knew that.

“So.” Dream turned to his mother and offered his arm. “Ice cream?”

Chapter Text

Tommy breathed deeply through his nose. He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes. He reveled in the way the air brushed against his face. He was standing on one of the tall buildings in Las Nevadas. “You ready for this, Phoenix?” Tubbo’s voice flitted through Tommy’s earpiece. He grinned. He wore a mechanical mask that covered the bottom half of his face when he was a vigilante to hide his identity but now, he had the mask off. He was also wearing his iconic red and white hoodie as well as some cargo pants for all of the little devices and weapons Tubbo had gifted him. 

Tommy pulled the hood up and felt the tattoos around his ears flick to life, two feathered ears holding onto the hood so it wouldn’t fall off. Tommy’s abilities were the sometimes-moving tattoos littering his skin. They could come alive at Tommy’s will. His favourites were the dragon that was nestled between his ribs and the feathered wings on his back. Speaking off, Tommy’s wings unfolded from his back, phasing through his hoodie and shirt and then sitting where there were slits cut in the fabric. Tommy’s wings started as an orangey yellow near his back but as they moved out, they faded into red, similar to phoenix wings. They also caught on fire when Tommy's emotions got out of hand (A.K.A. when he got really angry). (R.I.P. Hoodie #1, #2 and #5.)

Tommy's back warmed when his tattoo had previously been, a way to prove his powers had taken effect. Tommy lifted his mask to his face and secured it. “Ready, Hive.” The original call sign for Tubbo had been Hivemind but it was too long and Tommy couldn’t be bothered saying it all when he was in the middle of getting his ass whooped by some mugger. 

“It’s quiet for now, patrol your usual route.”

“Aye, aye,” Tommy teased before running over to the edge of the building. He kicked off and his wings caught the wind, allowing him to glide down to the adjacent building. He pulled his wings close to his back as he ran across that roof before opening when he jumped between the buildings before pulling them close again. That continued all the way to L’manberg and around Tommy’s usual patrol route. 

It was a half hour of looking out before Tommy found trouble. Someone was robbing some lady. Tommy crouched on a roof and watched, eyes squinting. The contacts Tommy was wearing zoomed in so he could see better. The woman was shaking as this guy held a gun to her head. Tommy wasted no time. He held out his hand and his snake coiled from the tattoo on his wrist. She slid down the building and when she got close enough, she latched onto the guy’s hand that was holding the gun. She used her tail to grab the gun and flick it away, straight into Tommy’s hands. 

Tommy’s tattoos were a strange thing that he didn’t entirely understand. He knew he controlled them but sometimes they had a mind of their own. The mugger, whilst trying to pry Aphrodite (the snake) from his arm, (she didn't budge) turned to look up at Phoenix. Tommy waved with one hand, the other still holding the gun. The mugger paled. Tommy winked before stepping forward and allowing gravity to take him down. His wings caught the air and when his feet slammed into the pavement, he grinned at the poor sod. 

“Hello!” Tommy greeted, grinning a bit maniacally under his mask. The mugger stumbled back. Aphrodite bared her fangs and the man screamed so loudly. Tommy covered his ears and the woman winced. Tommy guided Aphrodite up the man’s arm quickly until she was around his neck.

“Stop movin’ or you can kiss that head o’ yours goodbye.” Tommy over-exaggerated his South accent whenever he was Phoenix. That, along with the voice changer attached to his mask, helped hide his identity. 

The man finally quieted and stood there shaking. “You have somethin’ of this lovely woman’s, don’t you?” Tommy tilted his head.

The mugger nodded. “Y-yes. Here, just take it.” He threw the bag back to the woman who caught it with shaking hands. Tommy eyed the mugger. Usually they did what he told them to but not this easily. They weren’t normally this cooperative, nor this afraid. 

Tommy narrowed his eyes. He called Aphrodite back and she coiled down the man’s arm before jumping to Tommy’s outstretched one. She stayed coiled around his fingers as Tommy lowered his arm, now smaller than she had been before. Tommy put the gun’s safety on before shoving it into one of his pockets and busied himself by zip-tying the man’s hands together. He just sat through it. 

“That was weird, right?” Tommy whispered to Tubbo. He eyed the would-be-mugger warily. “Like, I’m not crazy?”

“They usually don’t act like that around you,” Tubbo agreed. “I can look into it if you want after I send in the tip to the police.”  

Tommy hummed in confirmation. He walked over to the woman. “Are you alright, ma’am?” 

The woman nodded. She was clutching her bag to her chest. She was shaking. “Yes. Th-thank you.” 

Tommy narrowed his eyes.  “Oh-kay,” he drew out. He looked her up and down. “You sure?”

The woman swallowed audibly before nodding. “Yep.” 

“Alright.” Tommy’s wings opened and she flinched. His eyebrows furrowed but he flew up to the roof of the building. He crouched where he had been before and watched. He watched the woman slump against the building before collecting herself and walking off.

“Uhhh...”

“Hive?” Tommy stood up and stretched out his wings at the hesitation in Tubbo’s voice. Aphrodite sunk back into his skin, turning to golden ink on his chest, warming that spot for a moment before settling to black. His tattoos could move as they pleased along his skin but they each had their own resting place. Aphrodite’s was over his collar bone so it looked like she was wrapped around it. “You got something for me?”

“Yeah,” Tubbo said. Tommy could picture him biting his cheek anxiously. “You should see this.”

Tommy frowned as a video appeared in the bottom left of his vision. He began building hopping again as the video played. It was a news broadcast. 

“For many years there have been villains and heroes,” Shubble, a famous reporter, was saying over shots of Manberg. “But where there are heroes and villains, there are vigilantes; anti-heroes. There are some famous ones and some infamous ones. There’s one that’s been intriguing many Manberg Citizens with his flair and unusual appearance. Who Manbergians are calling ‘Phoenix’ has been around for about two years. He wears a red and white hoodie, black pants. He’s described to have short blonde hair and blue eyes. He has been seen around helping petty crime and protecting South Manberg from threats. His alliances are not currently known but he seems to only be appearing in South Manberg, nowhere else. However, there have been sightings of him in Las Nevadas but not for very long. This alone makes some citizens uneasy, but the story we heard yesterday is making everyone cautious.”

The video switched to a slideshow of pictures, all of which involved Phoenix. The pictures were shaky and blurry but Tommy could make out himself and another figure, sometimes two in the background of almost every picture. 

“Photos have arisen of Phoenix with top villains Phantom and the Angel of Death not far away. This is tipping our commission more towards the fact Phoenix is in alliance with the villains and citizens of Manberg should tread carefully when approached by Phoenix, and if you see him, please alert local authorities to his location so they can question him.”

The video ended and disappeared from his vision. Tommy stopped on a roof and took a moment to breathe. “They’re... scared of me?” He frowned. “They’re actually scared of me, aren’t they?”

Tubbo was quiet for a moment. “People think you’re under the Syndicate’s protection.”

Tommy wrung his hands together. “What am I going to do? Because I have to do something. I didn’t even know the Syndicate-” He froze. He hadn’t known the Syndicate had been there. They had been following him. He took a glance around his surroundings. He couldn’t see any member of the Syndicate but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.  

Tubbo was saying something but it didn’t register in Tommy’s frightened mind. Why would the Syndicate be following him? Why would they take any interest in him? He was just like every other vigilante: stop low level crime, leave a tip for the police, check on the victim. That’s what they all did, right? How was he special? What could he have possibly done to warrant the Syndicate’s attention?

Oh. Oh shit. Did they know? No, there was no way they knew he was Tommy. There was no way they could have any idea that he was the bartender/barista that had served Phantom. No. And even if they did, what did it matter to them? There were a lot of people in Las Nevadas who couldn’t care less about a villain being spotted. It wasn’t like Tommy or anyone else in that bar would’ve said anything. Maybe they’re planning on killing him to make sure he never snitches. 

And come on! TommyInnit was not a snitch. Fucking assholes. 

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

Tommy didn’t have set things he knew were going to happen throughout the day. Actually, most of the time he didn’t know what the fuck was going on. This was one of those times because Tommy was being held at gunpoint. By Phoenix. You know, the vigilante. The vigilante that, usually, had Tommy behind the mask. 

It was all a flood of too many feelings that Tommy couldn’t even begin to understand. He just kind of kept gaping at the man with the gun. And- hello? Phoenix didn’t use guns! That was Ammo’s thing. 

“Just give me the money!” Mr. Imposter said.

Tommy’s brain managed to kick out of shock long enough to say: “You want me to give you the four pounds in the register?” Because there was four pounds in the register. It had been emptied that morning. Bad luck coming in on a Friday. Tommy felt Aphrodite shift, slinking down his skin and materializing as she coiled around his hand. She then jumped to the floor, slithering over to Mr. Imposter. 

“What?” Mr. Imposter said. 

“Thing got emptied like twenty minutes ago, man. Sorry.” Tommy shrugged, unsure what else he was supposed to do.

“Then- I don’t know! Give me the money in the tip jar!” Mr. Imposter gestured to the jar on the counter with their gun. Tommy frowned at the thoughts. There was a minimum of £100 in there just from Dream. Tommy wasn’t going to lose the money he’d be putting towards their non-necessities for a while. (All of the tip money Tommy made went to the things he and Tubbo wanted but didn’t need. Tubbo had been eyeing a watch recently. Tommy knew he only wanted it to be able to pull it apart but it would make his best friend happy and whatever he wanted, Tommy would do his damned well hardest to get it for him.) 

“No,” Tommy said. 

“No?” Imposter slammed a hand down on the counter. Tommy bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from flinching. Instead, he just lazily followed the movement with his eyes before looking back up at someone who clearly had never seen him IRL because this dickface’s hair looked nothing like Tommy’s. 

“Nah.” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. “Those are my tips, asshat. So fuck off.” 

Imposter laughed harshly, not at all sounding like Tommy’s awesome laughter. “You’ve got to be joking! I’m the one with the gun! Me! And you’re not listening to me! Do you want to get shot?!”

“I’m a teenager working in a bar,” Tommy deadpanned. “Fire at will.” His eyes flicked down and he took a feigned hesitant step back. “Woah, no need to whip out the snake.” 

Imposter’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked down and saw the hand that had been slammed on the counter now had Aphrodite coiling up it. Tommy braced himself right before the guy let out the most piercing scream. Tommy clamped his hands over his ears at the sheer volume this guy could hit. Those heights were kind of impressive. You know, if he wasn’t flailing around Tommy’s snake. The screaming attracted passer-bys and Tommy saw one of them get out their phone and begin filming. Yeah, you couldn’t’ve called the police? Assholes.

Didn’t matter. Tommy had seen one of the regulars call that police when the fucker had walked in. He made a mental note to thank Lizzie for that later. And just like that, police cars were pulling up outside and holding those big ass fucking shields. Some minor heroes had joined them. Tommy took his hands off his ears and motioned Aphrodite back. She jumped from Imposter’s hand and sped towards him. He held out his hand and right before one of the heroes opened the door, Aphrodite disappeared into Tommy’s skin. 

“Phoenix,” one of the heroes- uhh... Cold guy. Fuck, what was his name?

“Frost?!” Imposter yelled. Ohh, right. Yeah. Thanks. 

Frost was a short hero but he more than made up for it in attitude. And power. He, if you hadn’t figured it out already, had ice abilities. He could even go head-to-head with Flurry, a villain who also had ice abilities but she hadn’t been seen in a while. Tommy’s guess was she retired or some shit. Or she only went out when the Syndicate were gonna die or some shit. Frost also wasn’t entirely human. He had cat ears and a tail. They followed his emotions so Tommy reckoned they were real and actually attached to him instead of some weird fashion choice. 

With a single flick of his hand, ice crawled up the imposter’s body, freezing him in place. The temperature in the bar rapidly started decreasing and when Tommy exhaled, his breath materialized in front of him. He huffed and pulled the ends of his hoodie sleeves over his hands. Prime, Tommy hated heroes. 

“Phoenix, you’re under arrest for armed robbery, heroing without a licence, arson, attempted murder, assault, aggravated assault, breaking and entering-” Frost paused his reading of Phoenix’s charges. “Wait.” His eyes narrowed. His eyes were pure black, sclera (the white part) included. “You don’t have any wings.” 

Tommy barely held back a snort. Prime, this guy actually thought this loser was him? Please. The imposter had started crying and begging intelligible words. Frost sighed. He got rid of the ice and the Phoenix imposter fell to the floor. Frost said something into his comm before two officers walked into the bar. They detained the imposter while reading off his rights. Frost pinched the bridge of his nose, ears flicking sadly. 

“Everything alright?” Tommy asked. Frost turned to look at him. 

“Yes. I’m sorry if he scared you.” Frost gave that Hero Approved Smile. All of the heroes had one, a smile that's supposed to assure people. It didn’t work on Tommy, not after all of those years of manipulation. He learnt to recognise it. It had saved his life more than once. “That was not Phoenix.” 

Tommy nodded. No shit. “I figured.” Huh. Wait. “What tipped you off?” he asked with an innocent tilt of his head. 

Frost’s smile didn’t waver but Tommy could see the disappointment leaking into that fake smile. “Phoenix has wings, that guy did not.” Tommy stopped himself from comically looking over his back at where his wings were, decidedly, not. “A police officer will be in shortly to take your statement as well as whoever called the police.” 

Tommy just nodded, not really paying attention. That was interesting. All he had to do to make heroes think Phoenix isn’t Tommy is to put away his wings. That’s... interesting. He had to talk to Tubbo about this. 

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

Tommy speedran his report on the attempted robbery. Sam had been called and he took a moment to fuss over Tommy while the police officer took Lizzie’s statement. Sam arriving did make speedrunning slower than he would’ve liked but Tommy didn’t mind all that much. It was nice to have someone care so deeply about him like Sam did. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asked, hands cupping Tommy’s face. Tommy nodded for the fifty-millionth time.

“The gun never went off and I was raised in P- Ahem, L’manberg.” Tommy gently pulled Sam’s hands away. “But Tubbo’s really worried too so I was wondering if I could go home early?”

Sam nodded instantly. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Make sure you take care of yourself.” He smiled and reached over to squeeze Tommy’s shoulders. Tommy smiled back and excused himself. As soon as he was clear of the bar, he booked it home. He ran all the way, not wanting to wait for the train. It was a good half an hour walk but Tommy made it in seventeen because he was so cool. He immediately slammed the door open and rambled on and on about his newest discoveries, including but not limited to: his copycat, that fact heroes think his wings are a permanent feature and people are really scared of snakes. 

Tubbo seemed tired so he wasn’t as energetic as he could’ve been but he did seem interested in what Tommy had to say. While making his roommate a glass of warm milk to help him get some more sleep, Tommy told Tubbo about the rest of his day. Of course, Tubbo was aware of everything that happened from him monitoring the CCTV cameras in the bar but he listened as Tommy talked anyway. 

Chapter Text

Tubbo, of course, noticed how jumpy Tommy had gotten while patrolling as Phoenix and kept asking him if he was okay- really okay, Tommy, not your standard of okay. You know what, no, Tubbo, Tommy was not okay. His nightmares were getting worse but he didn’t know how they were getting worse because he couldn’t fucking remember them, the Syndicate were following him for some reason, he was now an ‘incapacitate if located’ kind of vigilante who was considered more of a villain then a hero, the last time he got any decent sleep was about ten years ago, and-

“Oh shit.” That was- fuck, that was a lot of blood. Phantom was standing in front of Tommy, leaning against the side of the alley way around the back of Casa de los Girasoles, bleeding out. Phantom didn’t seem to hear Tommy’s blurted swear in his state. Tommy set down the garbage bags he was taking out to the dumpster and rushed towards the villain. He stopped a few steps away from the villain, hands hovering in front of him. “Phantom?”

The words didn’t seem to register with him at all. He made a small noise and when he lifted his hand, it was slick with red, a deep, crimson red in the low lights. Tommy’s stomach churned at the sight, bile rolling up his throat when he saw the wound it had come from. It was on Phantom’s side, part of that awful trench coat ripped to shreds. If Tommy had to guess, he’d have to say it was a run in with either Mission, who favourited his twin blades, or he got in a tiff with Protesilaus. Tommy was leaning more towards the former, considering he doubted Phantom’s ally would hurt him this badly and then just leave him to bleed out. 

Okay, decision time. Tommy had to figure out what the FUCK he was going to do. There was a bleeding out villain standing in front of him. He was bleeding badly. Should he call the police? No, he couldn’t call an ambulance because they wouldn’t bother with first-aid, they’d turn him in immediately. He couldn’t get Purpled to come and heal it because one, Purpled would not be cool healing a villain that’s supposedly stalking Phoenix and two, healing small wounds gave him headaches. Healing one that size would probably kill him. No, Tommy couldn’t have that. 

Well, they did have a first-aid kit in the bar and Tommy knew how to stitch up a wound (probably). The bar was already closed so no one was in there aside from Tommy because he was cleaning up. Sam had to go home early for something so he wasn’t there either. 

But did Tommy want to save the villain? That was the dauntingly important question. He could just walk away. Turn around and walk back inside. No one would know. It wasn’t like Phantom would remember- if he somehow survived. It was that thought that spurred Tommy into action. If. If Phantom survived. The thought of him not was more than enough to force Tommy’s legs forward, taking the villain under the arm on the not injured side and practically dragging his dead weight into the bar. The side door that led to the alley went to the backroom so even if someone walked in, Tommy would hear them and be able to keep them out of the backroom. 

Tommy’s legs barely held up the weight of the villain. Tommy was strong, he had to be, but Phantom wasn’t holding any of his own weight so Tommy was stumbling forward, Phantom’s boots dragging against the ground and blood dripping onto the floor. Phantom had stopped holding his side. He’d lost consciousness completely. Shit.

Not knowing what else to do with him, Tommy laid Phantom down on the floor. He took a moment to take some breaths, hands on his knees. The small swipes of blood got on his jeans but that really wasn’t his top priority at the moment. Tommy got the first-aid kit from one of the cupboards and also some towels. He started with trying to get the blood to stop. He pressed two towels against the slash. It was definitely from a sword. The gash wasn’t very wide so stitching it shouldn’t be too hard to do. Well, it would be hard if this fucker wouldn’t stop bleeding.  

It took longer than Tommy liked to be able to slow the bleeding enough to stitch it. Phantom managed to completely soak three towels in his blood, that amount not including the amount he lost before he wound up in the alley. “Fuck,” Tommy swore at Phantom’s shallow breathing. His eyes were closed but he was breathing and his heart was beating- he wasn’t dead yet. Tommy counted that as a win. He just had to hold on to that ‘yet’. He had to rush away to quickly scrub most of the blood off his hands, just enough to be able to do the stitching. 

Tommy’s knees hurt from kneeling on the tiling in the backroom but with the state of Phantom, he didn’t seem in the position to be complaining. “Please don’t die,” Tommy whispered as he began stitching. “Please please please.” He didn’t know why he was pleading so desperately. It was just that the thought of someone dying when he could’ve helped them made that bile brush the surface again. However, no matter how amusing throwing up on the Number Two Villain seemed, he wouldn’t do it. Couldn’t. That just meant more clean up for him. 

Tommy thought there was something... off about the skin of Phantom's torso but with it covered in copious amounts of blood, it was hard to tell if anything was out of the ordinary.

Phantom didn’t move as Tommy stitched up the wound, didn’t wince or nothing. He seemed well and truly out of it. Tommy, on the other hand, was conscious and very aware of the curved needle puncturing flesh. Tommy’s hands were still. He felt like his entire body was trembling but his hands somehow knew the importance of this and stayed perfectly stable as Tommy gently stitched the skin back together. He managed to stitch up the wound without much fanfare. The lights above him were strong enough to give Tommy a good view- which did nothing for his nausea. Tommy wondered if he’d always been this squeamish or if this was a Post-Pogtopia thing. 

Once he was finished stitching up the still-unconscious villain, Tommy stood on shaky legs and walked to the small kitchenette in the backroom. He scrubbed off as much of the blood as he could, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks for reasons Tommy couldn’t reach. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.He then mournfully looked at the tiled floor under Phantom. The villain was still lying in a pool on his own blood surrounded by bloody towels. That was going to be a bitch to clean up and explain to Sam if he ever saw the blood soaked towels or remnants of blood on his tiles. Tommy fished his phone out from his hoodie pocket. He opened Google. 

What is the fastest way to regenerate blood?

No fast way was not an option here! Thanks for nothing, Google.

Tommy sighed. It did say that drinking a lot of water and iron-rich foods was a way. There were also many subcategories of different healing potions and regeneration potions. That gave Tommy an idea. He cleared the search bar and typed How to make regeneration and healing potions at home.

Now those were some results! Yes, Tommy did click on the one from Reddit. It was the easiest to understand, okay? Tommy read over the instructions and then realised it was harder than he thought it would be. He needed a pot and a blaze powder powered stove- Luckily they did have one of those. He also needed water and nether wart for both. For a healing potion he needed a glistering melon slice and for a regeneration potion he needed a Ghast tear. Well fuck. He had neither of those. 

But he had to do something. He started boiling the water in two pots, both on as high as they could go. As they boiled, Tommy pulled out his phone and texted the one person he knew could get him that stuff, no questions asked. 

Tommy Innit of Las Nevadas: hey big C! I need you to get me something but you cant tell Q about it

Big Slime: Tommy Innit of Las Nevadas, I would be glad to help you with anything you need! :) 

Tommy Innit of Las Nevadas: great so I need a glistening melon slice and a ghast tear in like 6 mins
Tommy Innit of Las Nevadas: please

Big Slime: Coming up!

Tommy set his phone on the counter. When the water was boiling enough he put in the nether wart. He watched it dissolve into the water, turning it murky. Tommy flipped over his phone and pulled up the picture of the awkward potion from the Reddit post. It looked similar enough. 

It had been seven minutes after Tommy had texted Charlie that the bell above the front door at the front jingled. Sneaking a glance towards the unconscious villain, after being assured with the shallow rise and fall of his chest, Tommy stepped out of the backroom and saw Charlie standing in front of the front door. He had a brown paper bag in each hand, smiling brightly as usual. “Big Slime!” Tommy greeted with a confidence he didn’t feel. Charlie’s smile widened and he handed over the small bags. Tommy took them.

“It is nice to see you, Tommy Innit of Las Nevadas. Is everything alright?” Charlie’s smile fell. “You are covered in blood.” 

Tommy winced as he looked down. Shit, he hadn’t thought about his clothes that were soaked in Phantom’s blood. “Yeah, I’m good. Not mine.”

Charlie’s face twisted but he poked Tommy’s cheek. It was a form of affection Tommy had never understood but he appreciated it nonetheless. “Very well, Tommy Innit of Las Nevadas. Please, be safe.” 

“Always am,” Tommy said as Charlie turned and left. As soon as the door closed, Tommy booked it back into the backroom, vaulting over the counter to do so. He shut the door behind him with his foot since both of his hands were full. He set the bags next to the stove and opened one. It had the ghast tear. He put it into one pot and watched as the colour swirled. He teared his gaze away and put the glistening melon slice in the other pot, the colours swirling together like they had with the teardrop. 

Tommy flicked down to the bottom of the Reddit post on his phone and saw that the potions were more effective if you drank them. So Tommy had to find a glass. He checked all of the cupboards but couldn’t find a single cup. “Shit shit shit shit.” He was starting to panic a bit. Tommy couldn’t hear Phantom breathing anymore. He ran over and knelt down in the blood. He’d be more grossed out if the situation was different. He checked to see if Phantom was breathing. Yes. Okay. His chest was rising and falling, it was just very shallow and the breaths were far too spaced apart for Tommy’s comfort. He needed to get this man those potions. 

In Tommy’s search he had found some wooden bowls so those were going to have to work. He quickly spooned the cool purple and red liquids into the bowls, his hands leaving blood smears on the wood. Potions were weird like that. The base needed to be hot enough to dissolve the ingredients but it was never hot to the touch so that whomever needed to drink it wouldn’t burn themselves. Tommy didn’t know how that worked and he didn’t need to know. What he needed to do was get these bowls over to Phantom. 

That’s what he did. He carried them over to him, legs shaking but hands uncomfortably steady. Tommy knelt down and set the regeneration potion on the floor next to him so he could help Phantom drink the healing one first. Phantom didn’t protest as Tommy maneuvered his head so he wouldn’t waterboard him. He also managed to gain the smallest bit of consciousness. 

“You have to drink this,” Tommy said, voice coming out shaky and hoarse. “Phantom, you have to swallow it.” Ignoring the crude jokes surfacing in Tommy’s mind, Phantom managed to grumble a bit before swallowing the potion. Tommy made him drink everything in the bowl. The regen potion was next. As the healing potion took effect, the regeneration potion went down smoother.

Phantom’s consciousness didn’t stay long. He conked out shortly after drinking the last of the regen. Tommy sat back on his heels and wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm. Fuck, being a doctor was hard work. He stood up on steadier legs and walked over to the pots, both still holding potions. There was the ding of the bell and Tommy swore under his breath. He poked his head out of the backroom but saw no one inside the bar. His eyebrows furrowed together as he looked around. His eyes fell on the empty bottles sat on the counter. He slowly stepped out and over to them. There was a note. He picked it up and opened it, red smearing on the paper. 

Tommy Innit of Las Nevadas,
I thought these might become of use to you. Never be afraid to ask me for help! 
With lots of love,
Charlie Smilecicle.

Tommy had no time to wonder about how the fuck Charlie got in and out of here so quickly. He had potions to bottle. He shoved the note into one of his pockets and grabbed both bottles. He went back to the backroom and poured the leftover potions into the bottles. He had to remember that the purple one was regen and the red one was healing. 

He could probably do that. 

Once it was all done and the potions were stashed, Phantom was beginning to snore (which was such a good sign that Tommy had never felt more relief in his life) and the blood on Tommy’s clothes had begun to dry. Tommy collapsed into one of the chairs at the small table and put his head in his still-blood-stained hands. 

“Fuck.”

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

Tommy hadn’t even realised he had fallen asleep until he was awoken by a banging. He shot up, muscles immediately protesting. He swore quietly as he popped his joints. Recalling his previous position, Tommy had been bent over the table resting his head against his crossed arms. Wow his body was not going to be kind to him about that. Tommy looked around to find the source of the banging sound that had woken him up. As he got more conscious though, Tommy registered the dried blood on his clothes and skin. It was the door to the alley. It was being banged on. The handle had been broken off so the door was unable to be opened from the other side. 

Then Tommy registered the pool of dried blood on the ground. Right. Phantom. Wait. Where the fuck did he go?! Tommy looked around the room and saw Phantom leaning against the wall, one hand resting on his side, mumbling to himself. “If you rip those,” Tommy began. Phantom’s head snapped to Tommy. He pointed a finger at the villain. “I will kill you.” 

“Wha- Tommy? What’s- Where am I?” Phantom’s voice was confused and hurried. 

“Uh you’re in the back room of Casa de los Girasoles- That’s the bar I work at.” Tommy rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, the fronts covered in blood. He looked at the door. “I don’t know why the door’s being assaulted though.” 

Phantom looked to the door and then looked down. In the hand not pressed to his stomach was the door handle. His eyebrows drew together when he saw it. “Did you rip the door handle off?” Tommy asked. 

Phantom hesitated. “Yes? I think so. I was very freaked out when I woke up. I suppose I ripped off the door handle in my panic.”

Tommy blinked. “You-” He abandoned his reasoning and looked for his phone to check the time. He found it on the counter next to the stove. The abandoned pots still sat there. He sighed and walked over to grab his phone. He paused with his hand outstretched. He decided to wash his hands first, scrubbing the blood off of him in the water that scolded his hands. After he was done, he used one of the only clean towels in the bar to dry them. He winced when he saw the copious amounts of calls and texts waiting for him on his phone. “Shit.”

“What?” Phantom asked. He had moved to sit down in the chair Tommy had been previously napping in.

“Careful,” Tommy warned. He walked over to help him. Phantom waved him off and Tommy huffed. “Well, I swore because I didn’t go home last night and everyone’s really worried.” He checked the time, realising he hadn’t before. Fuck. It was already two in the afternoon. His shift finished eight hours ago. A particularly loud voice behind the banging of the door now registered as Tubbo in Tommy’s mind. 

“What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon.” 

“So we’re fucked?” Phantom asked. 

Tommy nodded. “We’re fucked.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Okay, time to Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss my way outta this.” 

Phantom blinked at him. “I’m sorry, you’re going to what?”

Tommy stared at him. “Prime, you’re a fuckin’ tory, aren’t you?” 

“A- WHAT?!” Tommy ignored Phantom’s yelling. He snatched the doorhandle from Phantom’s hand and walked over to the door. 

“Don’t make a sound,” Tommy said. He used his smarts to attach the door handle and open the door. (It didn’t take more than three minutes. Okay five. Okay it was ten and he had to look it up because Phantom didn’t know how to open it either.) A very worried, very crying Tubbo was on the other side. “Hey Tubso.” Tommy stepped out, shutting the door behind him. “What’s u-”

Tubbo cut him off by practically suffocating him in a hug. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” he yelled. He then began to spout off something in French that Tommy didn’t understand. He knew the basics but he couldn’t keep up with the level nor the speed Tubbo was currently speaking at. 

“Tubbo- Tubbo!” Tommy’s hands cupped Tubbo’s cheeks. The boy met his eyes and Tommy did his best to wipe away his tears. “Shh, it’s okay,” Tommy promised. He pulled Tubbo into his arms again and held his now sobbing best friend much more gently than Tubbo had held him. 

“You- you- fucking asshole,” Tubbo hissed through his hiccups. He gripped the back of Tommy’s hoodie as tight as he could. “Don’t- e-ever do that- that ag- again.” He sniffed and buried his head further into Tommy’s chest. Tommy just nodded and hugged his best friend. He knew this side of Tubbo. Tommy being locked in a room like that had something to do with Pogtopia, Tommy just didn’t know what it was. 

Not having any idea what he could do to truly help, Tommy just stood there and comforted Tubbo as best he could. “I won’t do it again,” he promised through the string of words he’d been muttering to try and calm Tubbo. Tubbo just nodded and hugged him tighter. “I’m okay.” 

Tubbo nodded again. He pulled away and sniffed. He used the sleeve of the green sweater he was wearing to wipe at his cheeks. His scars were on display, unlike how Tubbo liked to be normally while outside the apartment. Using his knowledge of Quackity’s shapeshifting ability, Tubbo had made himself a device that attached to the side of his neck that hid his scars from view to try and not seem so out of place. Of course, it was also about not being recognised. Tubbo was paranoid like that. 

His face looked wrong to Tommy, when it was like that. Tommy couldn’t remember a time when Tubbo didn’t have his scars. He supposed the boy hadn’t had them when they’d met but Tommy couldn’t remember that. He looked normal like this, with his scars marking his face. A part of Tommy hated that, hated how he only knew this severely traumatised version of his best friend.

“I know you’re okay,” Tubbo said quietly. His voice was a bit hoarse. “I just- I just worry.”

Tommy nodded. He didn’t take his arms from around Tubbo. Tubbo rested his hands on Tommy’s chest and began fiddling with his hoodie’s drawstrings. “I know you do, Tubs, but I can handle myself. If I needed you, I’d-” 

“Why are you covered in blood?” Tubbo asked, voice empty of any kind of emotion now compared to a few seconds ago. Tommy winced, following Tubbo’s line of sight to the mess on his hoodie. Shit. He should’ve taken it off before coming out here. Now Tubbo was blankly staring at it. 

“Tubbo-” 

“Why are you covered in blood?” Tubbo asked again, hands tightening on the strings. His eyes met Tommy’s. “Are you bleeding?”

Tommy shook his head. He ran his hand comfortingly down Tubbo’s back. “No, it’s not my blood.” 

Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Tommy laughed. “It worked, didn’t it? I’m not hurt. I’m fine.” 

Tubbo huffed. “I never believe you when you say you’re fine.” 

“And that’s my fault because?”  

“Because you always lie.” Tubbo pulled himself from Tommy’s arms and pushed his way around Tommy to the door in one quick movement. Tommy was too shocked at the fast pace to have an adequate amount of time to warn Tubbo not to open the-

The door swung open and Tommy winced. Tubbo stepped inside and Tommy slowly followed. His eyes went to the table where he’d left Phantom to find the villain nowhere in sight. He then looked to the blood stain to find no such stain. The pots had been put away and there were suspiciously potion shaped lumps in Tommy’s bag. Tubbo looked as non-believing as Tommy did. Where had all of the evidence gone? 

“You lookin’ for somethin’, Tubbo?” Tommy asked, trying to play cool. Tubbo turned to look at him and glared. Tommy shrunk into himself. 

“Whose blood are you covered in, Innit?” Tubbo asked. 

“Nothing,” Tommy said quickly before realising that was the wrong word. “No one,” he geniusly corrected. 

Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.” He crossed his arms. “Why are you lying to me?” 

Tommy felt his stomach turn. Prime, he was lying. He hated lying to Tubbo. He swore he wouldn’t. Tommy’s eyes flicked to where the pool of blood had been moments before. He thought about how worried Tubbo had been when he’d heard about Phantom coming into the bar the first time, he thought about how worried Sam got when the Phoenix Imposter had tried to rob them.

“Tommy.” He turned and saw Tubbo standing in front of him. Tubbo’s hands cupped Tommy’s cheeks. “Please don’t lie to me.” 

Tommy sighed. “I don’t want to lie to you.” He pulled Tubbo’s hands from his face and smiled. “Which is why I’m not.” He couldn’t tell Tubbo. He couldn’t. Tubbo would only worry about Tommy being on the Syndicate’s radar even more. He was already worrying about Phoenix patrolling with the ever looming danger of the Syndicate- And Tommy couldn’t lose Phoenix. He couldn’t lose this job. He loved them both more than anything and if Tubbo found out, he’d probably keep Tommy in the apartment for the rest of his life or held up in Mi Hijo with Quackity and Purpled. “There was just a little thing. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m worrying about it.”

“Well then don’t. I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. I promise.”

Chapter Text

It was not even two seconds after Wilbur stepped off the elevator in the apartment building that he was being bombarded with questions and hugs as well as checkups. Techno was assessing him with his eyes, Phil was physically checking every inch of Wilbur for injuries, Puffy- who was almost never there- was stood next to Sam making sure Wilbur wasn’t actively dying, Niki was anxiously fidgeting next to Phil, and Hannah was trying to push past them all. 

“Out, out, out,” Hannah ordered, shooing Phil away from Wilbur. Phil’s wings were drawn together near his back and his primaries were puffed up in alarm. They looked like they’d been anxiously smoothed down once or twice or seventeen times. Without any regard for Wilbur’s personal space (none of them knew the meaning of the word- including Wilbur, aside from Technoblade) she batted his arm away and pulled up his shirt. Wilbur sighed as he held his arm up to give her more room. He knew the stitches weren’t the neatest but he thought the kid did an alright job. Also, it seemed as if Wilbur had ingested some kind of potion because he was healing faster than usual. Well, he healed faster than most people but it was strangely quickly that time. 

“What happened?” Hannah asked. She grabbed Wilbur’s arm and guided him down the hall and into her room. He followed her, listing off the events of what had happened prior to his injury. 

“Well I was minding my own business graffiting a wall because I was bored and then Mission shows up out of nowhere and wants to arrest me.”

Hannah only seemed to be half paying attention as she maneuvered Wilbur to be lying down on her bed. He followed her instructions and laid down, his knees bending so his legs were mostly falling off the side of the bed. 

“And he managed to skewer me on one of his swords,” Wilbur said, that part being one of the things Hannah wanted to know. He was almost 80% sure the snort as well as the muttered Wilkabab came from Technoblade, the best big brother ever. The remarks were not appreciated.

She hummed. “I see.” WIlbur saw the group shuffle into the room but they stayed out of Hannah’s way, knowing better than to interrupt. “Mission got a weak spot in your armour which sucks for you.” She frowned down at it. “You have to be more careful with your weak spots, Wilbur.” She sighed. “Let’s just be glad that he didn’t hit any of your organs.”

She stood up straight and looked down at his side, her arms crossed. She tilted her head. “And how did you get patched up? It’s not bad.” 

Wilbur blinked up at her, not expecting that. Hannah was very critical when it came to people’s ability to administer medical aid and the fact that Tommy’s the exception to that... It didn’t sit right with Wilbur. No kid, no matter how old, should do such a good job at first aid to the point that Hannah Rose admired it. When Hannah motioned for his shirt to come off, Wilbur complied, having to have some help with getting it over his head. Techno was more than happy to comply since Hannah was busy observing. 

When the shirt was finally off and Techno had muttered four mocking insults which contradicted his gentle hands, Hannah nodded. “Okay, it seems like the stitches are holding and they’re doing their job. Who cared for you?” 

Wilbur pouted. “How do you know I didn’t care for myself?”

Hannah gave him a look. Wilbur huffed. 

“Alright, fine. I was cared for by-” His eyes flicked to Sam for two seconds too long before going back to the ceiling. “This person. Don’t remember who they were but they’re trustworthy.”

Hannah frowned. She dropped her arms. “We can’t be sure of that if you don’t tell me who it was.”

“It’s not like you to forget something like that,” Techno pointed out, one of his eyebrows raised. “Not to mention you’re lying.” 

Wilbur turned his head to glare at his pseudo-twin. “Tattle-tale.” 

“Liar.” 

“Boys!” Phil interrupted before things could escalate. Both Techno and Wilbur shut their mouths, Techno staring at the side of Wilbur’s head as Wilbur turned to look at the ceiling again. Phil sighed tiredly. “Wilbur, we all knew you were lying without Techno having to tell us.” Wilbur pulled his lips into a thin line but Phil continued. “Don’t lie to us, Wil. Whatever happened, you can tell us.” 

“You are obligated to tell me,” Hannah reminded. “You signed a contract.” 

Wilbur glared at her. “You signed a patient/doctor confidentiality contract.” 

Hannah blinked at him. “You- Do you want me to ask them all to leave?” She seemed in disbelief and Wilbur understood that. You know that personal space thing I mentioned before? Yeah, Wilbur was the worst at that. He was always in everyone’s personal space and he always had someone in his. Wanting his friends- his family to leave was something Hannah didn’t think Wilbur knew was a thing. 

Wilbur winced. “No, I just-” He sighed. He lifted his fingers to run them along the skin next to his wound. Hannah gave him a warning look but seemed fine if he didn’t get too close to his stitches. “No one can get mad.” 

No one spoke for a moment. “Wil,” Phil said softly. He stepped forward and grabbed his son’s hand, pulling it from his irritated skin. “No one is going to get mad at you.” 

Wilbur’s face screwed up. “Yeah. You say that now.” He pushed himself into a sitting position, hating the way it pulled at his stitches. Phil used the hand not holding Wilbur’s to brace his back in order to help him sit up. Wilbur then took a breath. He looked at Sam, the man immediately setting himself on guard. “After getting stabbed I somehow wandered into the alley behind Casa de los Girasoles.”

Sam tensed. “Wilbur,” he warned.

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur said and he had never meant anything more in his life. “I didn’t mean to run into the kid but I did and I was too out of it to even know what was going on. I passed out after we got inside so I’m not entirely sure what happened but I remember waking up enough for him to make me drink something. I think they were potions.” He took a moment to think back on it. “Health and regen.” 

Everyone was quiet for a moment. No one said anything. Then Sam let out a long exhale. “I have to call Tommy,” he said. He then pushed his way out of the room despite Wilbur’s attempt to call out for him. 

Wilbur sighed and laid back down on the bed, wincing at the pull at his side. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Phil ran his fingers through Wilbur’s hair. “A little bit,” he conceded. “But it’s Sam. He’s protective of his kid, but he loves you. He’ll come around.”

“He’ll forgive you,” Puffy put in. 

Wilbur sighed. He looked back up at the ceiling as Hannah began healing the rest of the wound, making a flower grow from his wound before it sunk down into his skin, stitching him back together. Once all healed and Techno was saying something about his day to try and distract Wilbur from the pain taking a piece of thread from his side would evidently cause. 

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

Tommy hadn’t told Tubbo. He had lied. He felt horrible about it. He felt even more horrible that when they got to Mi Hijo to see Quackity and Purpled before going home, Tubbo pulled Purpled off to the side to whisper to him about something. 

Quackity’s office was a grand thing. The walls were gold and white flecked red marble and the floor was wooden. Quackity’s desk sat to the very right and there was a seating area to the very left. In the middle was an ornate rug that Tommy could never make out the pattern of. It seemed to change whenever he looked at it. Quackity was standing in front of one of the couches in the seating area, beanie clad and in his suit minus the blazer, which was thrown over the back of his desk chair, currently spouting on about Tommy’s safety because, of course, he had been called when Tommy hadn’t come home. He was also told about the blood covering Tommy when Tubbo had gotten there.

Tommy was sitting on the couch while listening to Quackity’s lecture about safety and honesty. Tommy just sat there and took it. He wasn’t paying attention anyway. He was thinking about his best friends whispering to each other. It was times like that where he wished he could remember what happened in Pogtopia. If he remembered then he’d know what kind of stuff he shouldn’t be doing in order to protect his best friends from those bad memories. 

Purpled and Tubbo eventually ended their conversation and came to join Quackity and Tommy. Tubbo sat down next to Tommy but far enough away that Tommy frowned. It was rare for Tubbo not to drape himself over Tommy. Purpled sat down in his armchair, the hood of his magenta hoodie pulled up over his ashy-blonde hair. The armchair was his because he dibsed it and he was the one who was up in Quackity’s office the most so he got first dibs on most things. 

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Tommy cut in, finally coming to the end of his rope. He looked up at Quackity. “But I’m not some little kid, Quackity. I can handle myself. I also don’t need to tell you everything that happens in my life.”

Quackity’s lips pulled up down into a frown despite the scar that tugged at the left corner of his mouth. It went straight up, through his eye and eyebrow, right up to his hairline. The eye it went through was milky with cataracts. He could see out of it perfectly fine but it looked like a blind eye. 

Blind eyes were what Purpled had. His eyes used to be a bright magenta but after over exerting his powers, his eyes had gone milky and lightning like lines ran across them from his irises. He could no longer see out of them but somehow always seemed to be able to know what was going on. It was easier when he knew a place, like Mi Hijo, that was why he spent too much time in the casino.

“Tommy, you don’t have to tell us everything,” Quackity began but Tommy cut him off with a scoff.

“Then stop acting like you want to strap a camera onto my forehead to be able to know everything that happens to me,” Tommy snapped. He stood up. “Because you can’t, Q.” He walked around Quackity and to the door. 

“Where are you going?” Tubbo called after him, getting up from the couch. 

“Out,” was Tommy’s response. He turned to look at Tubbo, one of his hands on the door handle. “Alone, if that’s alright with my babysitter.” 

Tubbo blinked, freezing in place. “Babysitter?”

Tommy huffed. “It feels like I can’t go anywhere anymore without you breathing down my neck.” He pulled the door open and stepped outside, letting the door shut behind him. He didn’t stop as he walked to the elevator and pressed the button. It opened immediately, still being on that floor from when he and Tubbo had come up. Tommy stepped into the elevator and sent it to the ground floor. 

If he leaned against the side of that elevator and shed a few tears then that was no one’s business. 

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

With nothing else to do, Tommy wandered the streets of L’manberg, needing to get away from the bright lights and smoke soaked air of Las Nevadas. Tommy loved L’manberg at night. The stars were out because of the lack of light pollution and the streets were calm. Many people thought the streets of L’manberg were crawling with criminals, petty muggers and wronguns who wanted to commit knife crime, but that wasn’t true. What was true about L’manberg at night was the copious amounts of homeless that lined the streets wrapped in blankets, jackets, sometimes nothing but each other.

Everytime Tommy walked the streets of L’manberg he was reminded of why he decided to create Phoenix in the first place. Even before the Syndicate Scandal he was well known in L’manberg. He was somewhat of a person to look up to. He was their hero since the licensed heroes didn’t give two shits about the South. 

When Tommy reached the rocky beach at the very south of L’manberg, he walked, sat down on the wall and let his legs dangle off the side. He kept his hands in the pockets of the new hoodie he’d gotten from the spare clothes Sam kept in the bar. It was Sam’s hoodie. Tommy was never planning on giving it back.

In the quiet, Tommy let his tears fall. They made his cheeks even colder than they had been before but he didn’t care. He just needed this, just a moment to cry because everything was getting so much. He wanted to crawl into a ball and let the earth under him cave in. 

“You look gloomy.” 

Tommy quickly wiped at his cheeks with the sleeves of Sam’s hoodie, trying to hide the obvious fact he was crying. He turned his head, laughing a bit. “Gloomy? Who says gloomy?”

Dream smiled at him. “I do.” He was wearing a green hoodie and a pair of black ripped jeans. He had his hair half up, some curls falling around his face. His eyes were as kind as Tommy remembered. “Can I sit?”

Tommy looked down at the spot next to him. He thought about saying no for a moment, he thought about telling Dream to leave, but then he decided against that. “Sure,” he ended up saying. He sniffed and wiped nonchalantly at his cheeks. 

Dream sat down, over exaggerating the strain it took to do so. It made Tommy laugh because the obviously fit man probably took no sort of strain in the simple act of sitting down. The triumphant smile on Dream’s face was enough to make Tommy not mention it. Dream exhaled deeply, resting his hands on his knees. “So.” Dream looked out at the waves crashing against the shore. Tommy did too. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Tommy said quietly. Dream sat patiently and Tommy couldn’t help the words that fell from his mouth. “It’s just-” He groaned and put his face in his hands to try and hide the way tears pricked his eyes again. “It’s all too much, Dream. I can’t- I can’t handle it. Everyone remembers what happened in Pogtopia and I don’t. No one’ll tell me about it either so I’m here making all of these mistakes because I don’t know what I can and can’t say.” 

Dream paused and Tommy could tell he wasn’t sure what to do with this information. Eventually, Dream just hummed to let Tommy know he was listening. And fuck, Tubbo was a great listener and so was Purpled but there was something about Dream that tore down all of Tommy’s defences, something about him that loosened Tommy’s tongue enough to tell him how he was feeling. The truth. 

“Tubbo and Purpled remember everything that happened in that Prime forsaken place but I don’t! I have the scars and I feel that panic when certain things happen but I don’t know why. Tubbo knows who he is, he knows why he is who he is while I don’t know who I am! I can’t be sure because what if I was really different before I lost my memories- and I meant really different. Fucking- religious propaganda wrongun or something. What if I was so different that I’d despise the way I was now? What if the person I used to be was horrible? What if they were nice? What if they’re a better Tommy than I’ll ever be? And now, since I don’t know who they are, I’m a horrible person?”

Tommy’s hiccups began getting too harsh for him to talk. His whole body shook when his diaphragm contracted. Tears were pouring down his cheeks now. He couldn’t stop them, couldn’t wipe them away fast enough. There was no hiding them from the man sitting next to him. And, the scariest part was that he didn’t want to hide them from Dream. What he wanted was-

Dream held out his arms as a question and Tommy nodded, letting Dream hug him. Dream’s hugs were nothing like Tubbo’s or Purpled’s or even Quackity’s. Dream was warm despite the cold air and he pulled Tommy as close as the boy could get. Then his hand raised and his fingers threaded through Tommy’s hair. 

Tommy thought back to the first time Sam had done that. He remembered jerking away, a plea for him to get away slipping from his lips. He remembered the look on Sam’s face when Tommy had started to cry, the horror as Tommy fell into one of the deepest panic attacks he’d ever had.

His aversion to people touching his hair was something he didn’t understand. Something else he didn’t understand was why when Dream started running his fingers through Tommy’s hair, he didn’t flinch away, he didn’t beg for it to stop- no. None of that. What Tommy did do was slump more against Dream and bury his face into Dream’s shoulder. 

“Oh Toms.” The nickname soaked into Tommy’s brain, turning his anxiety into warmth. It was a bit overwhelming, the strength of Dream’s comfort, but it wasn’t an unwelcome warmth. “You’re not a horrible person,” Dream promised. “You’re the best Tommy ever.”

There was something odd about this. Something was happening to Tommy. His chest was feeling all warm ‘n shit. It had started off normal enough but now... Now it felt like something was stitching itself into Tommy’s chest. Now it felt like the sun was touching his heart. It burned. 

“Have you heard the story of Icarus?” Tommy asked, voice only a bit shaky. 

“Uh yeah.” Dream seemed startled at the sudden off topic question. “I have. Why?” 

Tommy swallowed thickly. “I think I might be flying too close to the sun.”

Chapter Text

After his weird confession thing to Dream, Dream felt his forehead for his temperature and then told him to go home and go to sleep, considering it was the middle of the night and freezing outside. Tommy didn’t want to go home. If he went home then he’d have to deal with the ramifications of his out burst. Tubbo would tell him he was worried, Tommy would tell him he was sorry, and then Tubbo would get that weird look on his face and make Tommy feel awful for taking a bit of time for himself. 

So instead of going home, Tommy lied to Dream and snuck over to where he kept his vigilante gear. His Phoenix gear was kept in his apartment most of the time but he had recently been keeping away from Las Nevadas as Phoenix so he began stashing his gear behind a dumpster- It was a very secure dumpster, okay? He made sure to keep his gear safe- ish. But it was in L’manberg so he wasn’t seen inside of Las Nevadas.

Once completely in his vigilante gear, Tommy let out his wings and flew around L’manberg. He wasn’t usually on patrol that night so there were a few more crimes to stop than usual but he didn’t mind. He liked to remind people that he could protect the city whenever he wanted. All the time. 

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

“Chrysanthemum.” A shake at his shoulder. “Thes, come on, wake up.” Another.

A grumble climbed from his throat. Boots thudded against the concrete. Hands gripped his shoulders.

“Thes!” 

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

Tommy shot up gasping for breath. He looked around frantically. He was inside of the backroom of Casa de los Girasoles. He took a couple steadying breaths as the remnants of his nightmare flooded from his system. He ran a hand down his face and sighed. He hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. After patrolling, he’d gone straight into work. Yes, he was bone fucking tired but he refused to break. Tommy shut off the alarm that had woken him and rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel his grogginess. He had set an alarm for his nap. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of sleep Tommy had gotten collectively in around three days. 

Tommy refused to break. 

He walked back into the front and stood behind the bar. He took people’s orders, served people drinks and tried his hardest not to fall asleep. 

“Tommy?”

Was a cucumber a fruit? 

“Tommy.”

Like, what counted as a fruit? Because Tommy figured it was a vegetable but it had seeds, didn’t it? Wasn’t that the rule? 

“Uh, hello?”

Or was it that ground shit where everything that came from the ground was a vegetable? Was the technically true? Well, which vegetables didn’t come from the ground? 

“Tommy!”

“Is a cucumber a fruit?” Tommy asked absently. He focused on the guy standing in front of him. Some random customer. He had brown hair, brown eyes framed by wire rimmed glasses, a red beanie, an ugly mustard yellow sweater and some washed out blue jeans. Tommy was sure they’d never met but he looked familiar. There was something about this guy that rang some bells in Tommy’s mind, he just couldn’t place which ones, or why, or why the guy’s face kinda made Tommy want to punch him but also want to hug him. Tommy’s emotions were all over the place at the moment. 

“What?” the guy blinked. “Uh- I think they’re a vegetable.” 

“But they have seeds,” Tommy insisted. The guy opened his mouth but then stopped. He looked off to the side.

“Wait.”

“I know, right?” Tommy rubbed his chin half-heartedly. “Like, they could be a fruit or a vegetable. They grow in the ground, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” 

“But they also have seeds. Like, what’s the rule for what is considered a fruit?” 

The guy pursed his lips. “I... don’t know. But now I have to. Hold on.” The guy pulled out his phone and, presumably, googled it. He waited a moment and then frowned at his phone. “Some bullshit about flowering plants- Is a cucumber a fruit though?” He typed something else in and waited another moment before looking back up at Tommy. “Yes. A cucumber is considered a fruit.” 

“Huh. Weird.” Tommy looked down. Then he looked up. “Oh! Shit- Welcome to Casa de los Girasoles, what can I get you?”

The guy smiled kind of... fondly at Tommy, which made no fucking sense. He did, however, order, giving the name Wilbur. The coffee order he asked for was something that would kill any able bodied person but still, Tommy served it to him because it didn’t violate any of his rules.

What were his rules, you ask?

1. Big Man Tommy is always right.
2. No more than four alcoholic drinks in the span of an hour.
3. No mixing drinks of any kind, especially not caffeine and alcohol, unless it’s approved by Big S.
4. If you are in a group, Tommy needs to be aware of the DD (designated driver).
5. Big S is sometimes always right.

Tommy would have to add a new one after this dude, because he was weird. He seemed like the type of person to burn ants as a child– But simultaneously not have a childhood at all because whatever was drinking this monstrosity was clearly an eldritch horror. 

6.   Possible entities get carded. 

“Can I-” Tommy started but paused.

Wait.

7. Whatever Dream wants, he gets. 

There. Now:

“Can I see an ID?”

The Wilbur guy blinked at him, hand outstretched to grab his drink, which Tommy was now hording close to his chest. “I’m sorry?”

“I want to see an ID,” Tommy repeated slowly, as if talking to a child. 

A muscle in Wilbur’s jaw jumped. “Why?”

Tommy gave him a deadpan look. “‘S a bar, innit? I can card you if I wanna.”

Wilbur frowned. “But I’m not ordering alcohol.” 

“Don’t care.” Tommy crossed his arms- Which was harder than he thought considering he was still holding the entity’s coffee hostage. “ID or no coffee. Capiche?”

Capiche? Tommy had never said that word before in his life. Oh. But he knew who had. Prime, if he was starting to get Dream’s vocabulary, he was going to slap himself so hard in the face. 

Wilbur blinked at him. Then the corners of his mouth twitched and Tommy realised he was trying not to smile. Utterly confused, Tommy just stared as Wilbur took out his wallet and grabbed his ID. And oh. What kind of dumbass carried around hundreds of pounds in cash while just- walking down the street? Well, Tommy did suppose this guy didn’t look like he’d have more than some lint in his wallet, maybe a fly or a couple cobwebs so it wasn’t all the bad. There was small part of him that hoped the weird guy got mugged, just because it would be funny. 

“Here.” Wilbur handed it to Tommy and he grabbed it, looking it over. 

Wilbur Soot. Age- uh 23? 24? (Tommy wasn’t the best at counting, okay? He never went to school, be nice to him.) Wow. Tommy thought this guy would be in his thirties. Tommy glanced up and narrowed his eyes at Wilbur before looking at his photo. It looked like him, taken a few years ago though. He was smiling in the picture and smiling in real life. The real life smile freaked Tommy out more than the immortalised smile he had in the photo. 

“You’re weird,” Tommy told Wilbur while holding out both of his hands: the coffee and the ID. 

Wilbur took them both. “Thank you.” Tommy didn’t know what he was being thanked for, handing over his things or calling him weird, but he decided not to ask. 

“Sure. Just don’t die by drinking that, okay? I don’t want your blood on my hands.” 

Wilbur tried to fight off an amused grin but failed miserably, like what Tommy just said was funny. This guy was weird. “See ya, Tommy.” Wilbur gave a short wave before turning and leaving. Tommy watched him go, dread slowly pooling in his stomach. What. Why, you might be asking? Because Tommy did not wear a name badge and he had never told this guy his name. He had called to Tommy before but he was far to engrossed in his fruit/vegetable thoughts to clock it— and Sam wasn’t in today so it wasn’t like the guy could’ve overheard him say it and neither was Dream, Sapnap or George. So how the fuck did he know his name?

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

“You can’t find anything?” Tommy asked incredulously, voice pitched higher than usual. He was pacing behind Tubbo’s desk chair. They were in his lab in the apartment. The two of them weren’t... exactly on good terms with each other at the moment but Tommy had to fucking know. Tubbo liked to pretend like nothing was wrong when there was things wrong so it wasn’t like he was going to turn Tommy away when he asked for help.

Tubbo shook his head. “A couple things like vague school records but nothing else. It’s like-” He huffed. “It’s like his face was scrubbed from the world.” He was running facial recognition on the weirdo who knew Tommy’s name and just had to know if a cucumber was a fruit- and Tommy was like 80% sure he didn’t google it and texted someone about it. It turned out that Wilbur Soot was some kind of ghost. Fuck, he was some kind of eldritch horror, wasn’t he?

It was like Wilbur knew how to evade CCTV- or he spent his downtime scrubbing his face from them. It was concerning. Tommy was concerned. 

“So this guy just-” Tommy groaned and pulled at his hair. Tubbo was up in a matter of milliseconds, pulling Tommy’s hands from his hair. 

“Oi.” Tubbo ran his thumbs in small arches along the skin of Tommy’s hands. “We’ll find something, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine.” 

Tommy took a deep breath. “Right. Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m... Tubbo, I’m scared.”

Tubbo’s features softened just a little bit and it made Tommy want to make fun of him for it but he held back. Tubbo reached his hands up to cup Tommy’s face, pulling him down so he could press their foreheads together. “I know, Toms. But I promise you, there’s no reason for you to be scared. I’m right here. I would never let anything happen to you.”

Tommy nodded. He knew. He would always know. Even if they were technically fighting, Tubbo would always be there for him.

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

Wilbur came in again. Then again and again and again and he, somehow, became a regular. Tommy had no fucking idea how it happened but when Wilbur didn’t come in, Tommy got confused, wondering where he was. It was weird. This guy was... weird. There was something off about their interactions but slowly, Tommy began to stop feeling so afraid, so unnerved by the man who knew who he was. 

Wilbur was kind. Despite the unnaturalness of his smile, he was kind. Well, he was to Tommy, at least. Sam, not so much. It seemed like Wilbur was avoiding Tommy’s manager as much as possible. It was weird, yes, but people often did that with Sam. Well, normal people, at least. 

George huffed as he set both of his hands on his hips, practically pouting. He was looking up at Sam, the towering man doing nothing to hinder George’s easy confidence. They were arguing about- something. Tommy couldn’t really remember what exactly it was about but he knew it was incredibly funny and definitely warranted Dream and Tommy giggling to themselves in the booth they were hiding in. They didn’t want to feel the wrath of their friends and, honestly, it felt nice for Tommy to be slumped against Dream as giggles wracked his body instead of pressed against a cold wall as sobs made his skeleton shiver. 

Tommy yawned and Dream turned. “You get any sleep last night, Tom?” the older man asked. 

Tommy nodded. “Yuppers. I jus’-” Yawn. “Just tired. But ‘m fine.”

The truth was, he was tired. He was also kind of in pain. He went out as Phoenix before coming in for his shift an hour ago so his injuries, which he “forgot” to tell Purpled about, were irritated with his shirt. It was just a few bruised ribs. He was fine. Tired, yes, but fine nonetheless. 

It was because he was so tired and because he swore Dream was evil with mind controlling powers or something that Tommy started dozing off. He leaned to the side, head falling onto Dream’s shoulder. Tommy felt Dream tense but he was too tired and too in pain to move. This position took some of the pressure off his torso so he wasn’t going to be moving for the rest of his shift (if ever).

Dream wasn’t tense for long. He eventually relaxed enough for Tommy to shift into a more comfortably position where he was curled under Dream’s lifted and offered arm. 

“Tommy?” came Dream’s soft voice. Tommy made a small noise. Dream chuckled. He set a hand in Tommy’s hair. The gesture lulled him even deeper into a state of unconsciousness. “Get some rest, Toms. I’ve got you.” 

.ᝰ.ᐟ⭒

George looked disapproving and yet amused at Dream’s predicament when he finally walked back over to the table. He had been refused one and for all about no more alcoholic drinks until the hour was up. Well, it was either that or no more drinks all together across all of time. 

The predicament Dream was in being the boy sleeping soundly tucked against his side. “Not a word, NotFound,” Dream said, quiet enough so as to not wake Tommy. “Not a word.” 

George held his hands up in mock surrender. He was standing next to the booth. “I won’t,” George said. He still looked far too amused for Dream’s liking. “But you have to know that our shift starts in twenty minutes.” 

Dream looked down at the sleeping boy. All he could see was blonde curls not unlike his own, though Dream’s were darker and longer. The truth was, Dream didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to go to work. For the first time ever, Dream was perfectly content being Tommy’s pillow rather than a hero to the entire country.

But that was selfish, and Dream knew what happened when he got selfish. 

He swallowed. His fingers began running through Tommy’s hair. He had really liked it when they were at the beach in South Manberg. “I’ll- I’ll take the day off.” 

George blinked slowly at his best friend as his eyes narrowed. Dream ignored his gaze. “Hold on- let me get this straight.” George placed his hands down on the table, leaning over to do so. “You- You.” He pointed at Dream. “Dream Wastaken, are taking a voluntary day off?” When Dream nodded, George let out a snort. He pushed on his palms so he was standing again. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

Dream glared at him. “It’s not too late to change my mind.” 

George let out a sharp laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes it is.” He unfolded an arm to grab his wallet and chuck a twenty pound note on the table. He reached over and ruffled Dream’s hair. “I’ll tell The President if you want,” He offered softly, knowing Dream hated talking to him.

Dream shook his head. “No, I’ll do it. Better to come from me.” He frowned. “Just- call me if Something Bad happens, okay?” Something Bad meaning the Syndicate. Yes, George and Sapnap were more than capable of handling themselves but if they got out numbered, Dream was worried they’d be overpowered and then he’d have his best friends’ funerals to plan for. 

Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Dream used his unoccupied hand to grab out his phone. He didn’t have a lot of contacts, just a few. One of them was The President’s. That’s what he called himself at least. The fucking President. Pretencious fuck- but Dream liked his hero’s lisence too much to play with the chance of it being taken away. 

George set a hand on his shoulder and gave it an assuring squeeze before he gave a half-hearted wave to Sam and then left, looking back to shoot Dream an encouraging smile. Dream held the phone to his ear and waited for the overly powerful man to pick up. 

One ring. Two. Five. 

“Divine!” his overly cheery voice came over the line on the seventh ring. Dream smiled, knowing The President would somehow know if he didn’t. “Your shift starts soon, can this not wait until you’re here?”

“No, sir, it can’t. I won’t be coming in today. I’m taking the day off.” There was a certain worry in the back of Dream’s head that The President wouldn’t let him take the day off. He wasn't a man who was fond of slacking and Dream didn’t very much like the idea either. He yearned to be out there, protecting the city that had been nothing but horrible to him- Still, he wished to save its people.

“A day off?” That barked out a laugh made the hairs on the back of Dream’s neck stand on end. “Are you feeling okay, Divine?” 

Dream knew better than to think it was a genuine question. “Something has come up. I would like to request some leave.”

“How much?”

“At least a few hours,” Dream said. He looked down at Tommy again. “I’ll make them up by coming in tonight.” 

The President took a moment to think about it. “If you add on the hours to your shift when you do come in.”

“Thank you, sir.” 

Beep beep beep.

Dream held back a sigh as he pulled his phone from his ear. “Everything okay?” Dream looked up to look at Sam.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Dream held up his phone. “Just called in sick for work.” It was easier than explaining the rest of it. Especially if he wanted to keep his identity a secret. 

Sam tilted his head a bit. “Oh?” His strangely dark but kind eyes fell to the sleeping blonde and he melted. “Oh.” He smiled. “Tom a bit tired, huh?”

Dream nodded. “Yeah.” He also looked down at Tommy. He watched his fingers moving through the soft curls. “I hope it’s alright that I let him sleep.” There wasn’t a response for a moment so Dream looked back up at Sam. He was staring, jaw slack, at Dream’s fingers. He looked shocked as he watched Dream’s fingers card through Tommy’s hair. “Sam?” 

Sam blinked, eyes snapping to Dream. “Hm?” Dream raised his eyebrows a tad and Sam shook his head. “Right, sorry. No, I don’t mind. Let the kid get some rest. Prime knows he needs all the sleep he can get.”

Dream nodded slowly. “Right.” He raked his eyes over Sam’s expression. Dream was very good at reading people, very good at telling a bad guy from a good guy. Sam was... Dream didn’t exactly know what Sam was. He seemed to care deeply about Tommy. He had a kind of- strained look to him as he went out daily tasks. He favoured his left side to his right. 

Dream’s eyes flicked down to Sam’s legs. Something off with his balance would explain there being something off with his legs. 

“Bionic.”

Dream’s eyes snapped up to Sam’s. “Sorry?” 

Sam smiled kindly and shook his head softly. “I have a bionic leg.” He pulled up his pant leg. Underneath it, Dream could see that he did in fact have a bionic leg. It was black mostly but there were small details that were a deep green, darker than Divine’s green. “I could see you looking for something.” 

Dream looked back at Sam’s eyes, smile sheepish. “I noticed your balance is off centred. I’m sorry if I pried.” 

Sam snorted. He patted Dream’s shoulder. “You didn’t even ask, I chose to tell you.” He pulled back. “But it’s fine.” He gave a kind smile. “Keep being the kid’s pillow for at least a few hours, okay?”

Dream nodded. “Of course.” 

“Need anything while you wait?” 

“Refill on my coffee? And George’s money’s on the table.” 

Sam nodded. He took the money George left and Dream’s empty mug. He then went to making Dream’s coffee. Dream opened his phone and began to mindlessly scroll. He had some time to kill. Unlike usual people who scrolled through Instagram or Twitter, Dream chose to scroll through news articles, wanting to know the things happening in his city. He was weird, he knew, but he didn’t mind what others thought.