Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"So, Tom," Purpled started the conversation, Tommy hummed to show he was listening, wiping down tables whilst Purpled leaned against a wall and watched. 'Prick.'

"Someone gave me a tidbit of information that may help you." Tommy raised an eyebrow, looking up at him.

"Go on." "You've made friends, haven't you?" Purpled asked, but it was rhetorical; Purpled may be a teenager, but he knew everything, connections everywhere. People talk, word gets around, but only Purpled knows the true answer.

He has a knack for knowing if people lie or not.

"What about it?" Tommy questioned, furrowing his eyebrows. Tommy's friend talked as if he was in Person of Interest when he was giving information, all dramatic-like.

He was no Harold.

"You don't know people as much as you think," his friend said, ominously. "Be careful." Purpled narrowed his eyes, "You're one of the only people I like, Tommy." He pushed himself off the wall; "I give you this information for free, for your safety…" Tommy paused his cleaning, looking at Purpled. "Those vampire attacks?"

The boy with the purple hoodie looked at him with a cold face; "They weren't from a rogue fledgling or whatever shit they made up. The one you suspect the least…" Purpled warned, "is always the most dangerous."

Tommy looked at him, "Purpled—" "Have fun closing, it's your turn. Do you need me to tell Tubbo you're going to be late… picking up your watch?" "I— who told you?" "Tom, I have connections everywhere. I needed to make sure you were safe. Vampires among other things aren't very kind, especially at night," Purpled quirked his mouth up a bit, staring Tommy into his eyes.

Purpled scared Tommy sometimes; sure, they were friends, but Purpled got information about Tommy without his knowledge sometimes— about personal stuff. He knew his birth parent's names, something Tommy kept a secret from everyone, and tried to keep a secret from himself at times.

He traded information for information, called in favors, sometimes money if he was saving up for stuff or wanted to surprise his mom with a gift that he couldn't afford otherwise.

Tommy's ears perked up at the sudden laugh, "No, you should've seen your face," Purpled smiled. "I saw that your watch wasn't working and called Tubbo this morning to see if I should buy a watch for you. He said you dropped it off at Blades of Time to fix, you told him. Said it'd be done today," Tommy visibly relaxed at that, and if his appreciation for his friend grew at him mentioning he'd buy Tommy a watch, seemingly for free, that was for Tommy to know and no one else.

"Tom," his friend walked to the door, "I'm serious, though. Be careful, I know you can take care of yourself, but never be scared to ask me to help if you need it." Purpled softened, "If it's for your safety, it's always free. You're my best friend, dude." The younger one bit back a smile and purr of appreciation for Purpled, instead settling on thanking him.

"Thanks, man." Tommy's left ear twitched down, just a small sign of platonic affection he was sure his friend wouldn't see, but by the growing smile, he thinks he did. "No problem, Tom. I'll call Tubbo after I leave, unless you want to talk to him?" Tommy shook his head, "Okay, bye Tom. If you need to call anyone, the café phone is in the back—" ''And everyone's numbers are in a book by it, I know. Go surprise your mom with whatever you bought with Eryn's money last week, you said it arrived yesterday, right?" Purpled nodded, "Alright, bye Tom." "You already said bye, stop being a mother hen."

Purpled huffed lightheartedly and exited the Trivial, bell jingling, leaving Tommy alone to close. He'd never admit it, but closing alone always freaked him out. He didn't like it. Lately, he'd been paranoid, like a set of eyes were watching him— studying him; Tommy hated the feeling, it made his skin crawl and spine shiver.

Maybe Trivial should install cameras, Ms. Rose and Mx. Loves had enough money to do it, but they were pretty swamped with the website they were making— a coffee and baking website, homemade Trivial coffee and mostly homemade ingredients. He wasn't sure what Mx. Loves had said the website name was going to be, Tommy's memory was pretty bad recently, but he assumed it was something related to Trivial.

Mx. Loves, Eret Loves, was the co-owner of Trivial, alongside Hannah Rose; their friend, Fundy, was the one making the website for them. (Not for free, even if they were friends, Fundy was a broke college drop-out that needed to pay apartment rent.)

If Tommy went into Ms. Rose's office, he'd see a flurry of post-it notes everywhere, notebooks with ideas for the website jolted down, different coffee types, and other stuff Tommy had only gotten a glimpse of when Hannah and Eret were talking to him about a new pastry they made that Tommy needed to try, so he could recommend things to the customers— you can't really recommend stuff without trying it first, now can you?

Tommy groaned as he tried to scrub a particularly stubborn stain on the counter, Aimsey, the main baker, (and occasional server,) had gotten jelly on the counter, and jelly was a bitch to get off after it dried.

He cheered mentally as it began to chip away— then, then, when he checked, it was finally gone; small victories. The boy was just about to mop and sweep the floors when the door chimed, "Oh, did you forget something, Pur—" Tommy glanced up, looked back down, then processed and looked back up. "Aye, Soot! The café is closed, dickhead. Can't you read signs?"

The man chuckled, and Tommy wanted to rip his vocal chords out right then and there. "No, I know," he grinned at the teenager, who scowled right back, though Tommy was confused.

"Okay? Then leave, bitch." He huffed, "Why're you here?" The man smiled, "To see you, walk you home. The attacks have been pretty bad lately," at that, Tommy paused.

How did he— how did he know… where..? He furrowed his brows at Soot, "How did you know where I work? I don't recall telling you." Tommy's grip tightened on the mop, and he saw Soot's face morph into… something. It was gone as soon as it appeared.

Soot walked forward, Tommy took a step back. "I know the owner."

"Which one?" "Eret— Eret Loves." The brunet added on, "I don't know Hannah that well, though. We've only talked once, briefly." Soot walked over to Tommy before he could move or react, really; Soot's legs were long.

"So, you're friends with Eret?" Tommy asked, curiosity edging into his voice. "How come they've never mentioned you?" The man just laughed, and Tommy furrowed his brows in confusion— what did Tommy say? He didn't make a joke, and he was sure he didn't sound stupid.

"Oh, Toms," Soot smiled and Tommy shifted in place. Ranboo was the only one who called him that, yet Tommy didn't feel defensive when Soot did. "Eret and I aren't friends."

"What d'ya mean? Why else would they tell you I work here?" He tilted his head, "It came up in… conversation." The shopkeeper replied, "Hey, you should close up. It's late out and I don't want to worry Phil by going home late because I walked you home late," Soot put his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, since when did I agree to you walking me home?" Tommy frowned, he felt a bit babied, "I'm not a child!" He fumed, and to prove his point, he refrained from the urge to stomp his foot.

"Hot-headed, aren't you?" Tommy opened up his mouth, because that was not the right thing to say, but Soot spoke again before Tommy could get a word in.

"Tommy, I would rather you not get mauled by a vampire or mugged by some dude," the man raised a brow, "and I trust— hope that you feel the same way." Tommy scoffed, "Whatever. I can kick your ass, bitch." Soot hummed, accepting the answer as Tommy didn't disagree.

"Grab a hand-towel and wipe down the coffee makers, then. Unless you're too much of a fuckin' rich snob to do that?" He put the mop into the soapy water, letting it sit there while he swept.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Soot grab a towel and heard the sound of running water, then an "oh," when he found the soap under the sink. Tommy smiled a bit at that, with Soot doing that while he swept and mopped, Tommy could go home a bit earlier than we would when he usually closed.

It went by in mostly silence, although sometimes Soot would ask him things like "what's your favorite color" and "do you like gold," which confused Tommy a bit, but he answered, anyway.

"Hm, blue. Like, deep— deep ocean blue. Like the sea, man." Which Soot snorted a bit at, "Gold— ya' mean real gold?" Tommy furrowed his brows, and Soot nodded. "I've never had any. You're just a rich wrong'un— the fake gold I've had looks pretty, shiny stuff, innit?" He nodded to himself, "It makes the werewolf brain go haywire. Bitch to make it stop, ya'know?"

"Oh, yeah, werewolves like shiny stuff. Tech goes crazy when we buy him stuff like that, sometimes he instinctively makes a nest and stuffs us— Phil and me, into it, along with his shiny shit," Soot snorted, "he puts his gold in his hoard after. Is hoard the right word? I know dragon hybrids use the word 'hoard.'" Tommy nodded, "Yeah, 'hoard' is correct, though sometimes were'olves use other words so they're not confused as dragons."

And that was that, and soon enough, the café was all clean and Tommy was yawning from exhaustion. Love-love-love, nest, den, friends, playmates, his pup brain barked, and Tommy almost purred at the thought, he hadn't even noticed his tail was wagging until Wilbur commented, "Excited to go home, huh?" Tommy couldn't even find it in him to be embarrassed or defensive; "Yeah, my friend, Tubbo, is probably up, 'Ran might be sleeping." He walked with Wilbur to the door after turning off all the lights and putting cleaning supplies away, the door chiming.

"Tubbo's the one we saw before, right?" "Uh…" Tommy thought about it for a moment, "yeah. Clingy bitch," he muttered, affectionately. Wilbur seemed to hear it, as he laughed. "Phil'll love you, dude." "I have to see 'im at one point, thank 'im for the watch. Oh, shit, I have to pick up my watch." "Can't you check your phone?" Wilbur asked, and Tommy giggled a bit. "Wilbur, not everyone has phones— enough money to buy 'em. I'm almost there, though. Just won't be able to turn the phone number 'n' shit on until I get a raise or wha'ever." He shrugged, and Wilbur's mouth turned into an 'o'.

"Oh, I thought you would since Trivial's busy most of the time." "How do you know that?" "You don't work every day, Tommy." Wilbur had an amused smile on his face, "How much do they pay you an hour?" And before he could think about it, Tommy blurted out: "Seven dollars an hour," gods, he liked saying pounds much more. Fuckin' America. Shit place.

Wilbur raised a brow, "That's what minors get paid, usually. Adults get more than that," and Tommy nearly shit his pants. "Uh, I meant seventeen dollars. Thought it was obvious." He lied through his teeth, and by Wilbur Soot's still amused expression and raised brow, he did not buy it.

"Wha'ever, walk me to your stupid fuckin' cottagecore lame-ass shop," Tommy huffed, and the brunet led him to it, making small talk sometimes, but mostly silence in the air.

"Fuck, it's cold," Tommy grumbled, shivering a bit. "You can wear my coat." Soot suggested; the brown trench coat looked tempting, but when was he ever not stubborn? "No. Keep your coat, Soot." Tommy glared, and Soot seemed a bit surprised at his tone. What had Wilbur done to warrant an icy stare and venomous tone?

He shrugged it off, Tommy might be tired, and the cold wasn't helping.

The shop was closer now, "Tommy, you're going to freeze to death, just take—" "I said no! Fuck off!" He spat at Soot, the words leaving Tommy a sour, unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Soot furrowed his eyebrows, he stopped walking, and Tommy did, too. "What?" The blond fumed.

Tommy himself didn't really understand why he was so angry, it was partly because he didn't want to be pitied, babied, because he didn't have a coat, for fuck's sake! It was just a coat!

Not everyone can afford one that lasts longer than a month, one that actually keeps you warm and safe from the wind's harsh breeze.

And what pissed him off most was the puppy in his head that screamed at Tommy, No! Provider good! Pup bad! Submit! Angry bad! It made him want to, as bad as it sounds, kick the fucking puppy. He wanted to tear out his owb brain and replace it with stuffing from the fucking plush sitting on the bunk bed at home, and, oh, home.

Tommy wanted to be home— to collapse on the uncomfortable bed while his friends slept better than he ever would, he wanted to chat with Tubbo and maybe Ranboo until he passed out.

"Tommy," Soot's usual warm voice was now a bit stern, and it almost made Tommy freeze. Almost. "What? Spit it out." Tommy growled, tail swishing in frustration; Provider good, no bad! Submit, submit! Provider mad, and Tommy did freeze at that.

When did it accept Soot as pack? It made his stomach turn, and at the newfound discovery, he only became more sour. "I don't know why you insist on hanging out with me or whatever the fuck it is you're doing," Tommy spat, "oh, wait! I know! It's because you pity me, isn't it? You find a poor, sad, little kid working for seven dollars an hour, trying to pay the bills with his roommates who probably don't give a flying fuck about him," his voice quivered.

"And you decide that you'll grace him with your presence and your fancy watch and rings," Tommy gestured to his arm and hands, and oh, gods, Tommy might cry— "show him what he'll never have! What he dreams of, what he wants, because he's a pathetic little teenager," his voice cracked, "who can— can only want, want, want, and that's what always gets him in trouble, the wanting, the being clingy, the—" the angry -sad?- teenager huffed, "you don't care about me. I know, because no one does." ( That was a lie. ) Tommy balled up his hands and started digging his nails into his skin.

"To—" Soot looked shocked, concerned— worried, and Tommy convinced himself it wasn't true, because nothing ever is, it's all too good to be true, and most of all, he's being an utter dick, but he can't stop the words, it's been bottled up for so long, and he can't, he can't, he can't, he can't, he can't, he ca—

"No! Just admit it, you just feel pity, pity for the boy with sunk-in cheeks, eyebags on his face, you feel pity for me, and I don't want your fucking pity." The first tear, the first tear fell down his cheek and got stuck on his chin, it itched, it itched, and he hated it, he hated how his cheeks started… vibrating, bordering numb, but not enough, because nothing ever is, and he doesn't deserve that, but he wants it—

"Say it!" Tommy sobbed, and Soot… Wilbur looked so — heartbroken, and Tommy couldn't understand why, because if he did let himself understand, it wouldn't end well. "Sa— say it!" He heard and felt his voice shake and give out at the end, but he couldn't care. He could never care.

"I… Toms," Tommy almost dropped to his knees and screamed at that, the pure concern in it, it wasn't pity, but it has to be, because it always is.

(He ignored when Ranboo calmed him down from a nightmare, brotherly love and concern dripping from his lips.)

"Why do you— you…" Tommy tried to find the words, voice just above a whisper, "It sounds real. The way you say things, the way it sounds—" he choked, "it sounds nice." Wilbur would just have to deal with that choice of words, because Tommy was recovering from an almost panic attack and he was not going to speak more than necessary.

"Toms, I don't pity you," Wilbur spoke gently, like when Tubbo whispers him awake sometimes, holding a cup of hot chocolate with a smidge of milk, cinnamon, and sometimes whipped cream, just how Tommy liked it.

"I worry for you," and oh, gods, Tommy was crying, wasn't he? "I care for you," he was going to throw up, not much would come out if he did, "and I hate to see you so… broken." Wilbur stepped towards Tommy.

This time, he doesn't step back. Step, step, step, stop. Tommy didn't look up at him, much less his eyes; eyes were a vulnerable thing. Wilbur would read him through his eyes, he was convinced.

He felt a hovering hand over his shoulder, and it slowly, lightly, rested on Tommy's shoulder.

It took him so much power to not melt into it, but then Tommy heard a purr from Wilbur, and he collapsed into the man, the frustration, instead of toxic words and tones, formed into an abundance of tears.

"Oh, Tommy," he felt Wilbur's chest vibrate as he spoke, "You're okay." And for once, Tommy thinks he believes him.

So he lets loose, lets himself do a purr of his own, lets his tail loosely wrap around Wilbur's leg, lets his puppy brain howl in excitement, and Tommy lets out a small, broken whine.

"I know," Wilbur wraps his arms around Tommy's back now, and he couldn't feel more cared for.

(It was possibly equal to when Ranboo and Tubbo hugged him on the rare occasions Tommy would ask.)

That night, he went home with dried tears on his face that felt sticky, (he hated crying so much) a new… friendship— no, pack member; family, a lifted weight from his heart, a shiny watch given to him by Techno, (Phil was busy, Tommy will meet him soon, he decided,) and two very awake roommates who, after Tommy asked, cuddled in Ranboo's bunk bed with him, sharing platonic and familial love.

Tommy did have nightmares, but when he jolted awake, he found Tubbo and Ranboo with him.