Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s a nice, sunny day in the city of Manberg- or at least it’s supposed to be, according to the cheery voice that had played on the morning's newscast.

Looking up at the gloomy sky, Tommy hopes that fucking meteorologist gets fired.

He’d set off on a walk after Tubbo and Ranboo had left the apartment that morning to go to their respective jobs, but Tommy is beginning to suspect that he’s wandered a bit too far. The streets are just a smidgen too clean- he’s probably walked all the way to district five, maybe even four if he’s unlucky enough. 

Tough, considering Tommy had originally set out to go to the run-down park in district seven, home to his equally run-down apartment. The playset there is normally entertaining enough to keep him occupied until his friends get home from work.

He feels guilty about not contributing, really, he does, but Tubbo and Ranboo had insisted that he not work so as to make a full recovery from- well-

Tommy blows a white-streaked curl of hair out of his face and tries very hard not to think about a certain book hidden somewhere within their apartment.

The thing is, it’s been almost a year now, and money is tighter than ever. It would only be fair for Tommy to get a job, and he feels fine enough for it.

Besides, if his friends let him become a full-blown vigilante, they better let him get a job to pay for it. Equipment is expensive even if Tubbo does his best to cut costs by scavenging for parts.

Shaking his head and focusing back in on his surroundings, Tommy realizes that it’s probably a good time to start heading home. He glances around, hoping valiantly that he’ll recognize any of his surroundings. Street sign, lady glaring at him, dog, another street sign- nope! He’s got nothing. The blonde huffs and pulls out his phone, hoping his past self had at least thought to make note of where he was going but, predictably, the only thing looking back at him is a blank page open in his notes app. 

How wonderful. Truly, truly, great. Only the greatest things happen to someone as great as Tommy. Great, great, gr- woah!

Tommy leaps back as a man sprints past him, yelling some expletive over his shoulder. Christ, that could’ve been-

Another man darts past but doesn’t quite dodge Tommy in time, sending him sprawling onto the concrete.

-bad.

“Watch where you’re going, jackass!” Tommy shouts after the man, glaring towards him to see- oh shit, that’s one of the city’s top heroes.

“Sorry!” Rhapsody calls over his shoulder with an apologetic wave, quickly disappearing from Tommy’s vision. And Tommy tries to give him the benefit of the doubt, he really does, since it was only a few months ago that Lady Death, one of the man’s teammates, had disappeared from the public eye, but still-

That motherfucker . How hard can it possibly be to just look around before you go chasing someone through a crowded area?

With a groan, Tommy stumbles to his feet and shakes out his scraped hands, staring down at his pants that now have holes through their bloodied knees. That was his last intact pair, too. After another moment of regaining his bearings, Tommy pulls out his phone again. He hadn’t dropped it when Rhapsody bowled him over, thank Prime, so he can still use his last option for getting home- looking up a map on the web browser. 

He gives a cursory glance at the route before turning and walking back the way he came. A few more people give him looks as he passes- bunch of posh fuckers who can’t stand the fact that a disheveled-looking teenager has the audacity to exist among them. It’s almost a relief when he finally makes his way back to district six- he’s not home yet, but at least the people here are generally less snobbish.

Of course, it’s just when things are starting to look up for him that the darkened clouds finally give way to a pouring, freezing rainstorm. 

“Shit!” Tommy snaps to himself, tucking his phone to his chest and breaking into a run. He doesn’t want to rely on the map and risk getting his phone wet, so he just trusts his (unreliable, but shut up ) memory to get him where he needs to go, darting through random alleyways as a shortcut.

Yeah, maybe he has a history of forgetting things, but the blonde has a good feeling about this one. Surely this time he remembered it correctly! Tommy looks up, hoping to see the opening of the alley near his apartment, and-

It’s a fucking dead end.

Tommy turns on his heel and wishes, not for the first time, that his memory wasn’t shot to hell. This would be so much easier if he didn’t have to check a map every five seconds, but here he is, having to run and hunch over his phone at the same time so it doesn’t get rained on!

When Tommy eventually stumbles through the door another twenty minutes later, he’s completely soaked by cold rainwater. The blonde feels (and probably looks) like a disgusting mess, and the way every step is leaving puddles on the wooden floor doesn’t help his case. 

Making a beeline towards the bathroom, Tommy is quick to pull out a towel, careful of the little black feathers dotted along his hairline as he ruffles it over his head. The last thing he needs is to pull one out before it’s ready- he still shudders to think about what happened the first time he tried to preen himself. Who knew one feather could have so much blood in it?

Pulling off his wet shirt is a relief, finally freeing his small wings from their horrifically damp and constricting prison. He throws on the first couple of dry garments he sees strewn around the bedroom, only looking at the outfit after he’s done. The shirt is comically large on him while the pants end before his ankles and try to slip off his waist no matter how many times he pulls them back up- Ranboo’s shirt and Tubbo’s pants, then. Curse those dickheads for being taller and buffer than him, respectively.

Ambling back to the living room, Tommy glances up before freezing. 

The window is leaking, and judging by the puddle of rainwater forming beneath it, has been for a while.

Cool. Great. Fantastic.

By the time he’s taped the sheet of plastic they keep for these exact situations over the window and mopped up the water on the floor, Tommy is exhausted. He doesn’t even want to think about how long their landlord is probably going to take to fix this- if he ever does at all, that is. They’ll probably have plastic covering their window for the next few months at the least, which really sucks because that’s Tommy’s favorite window to exit for patrol through- it’s got the easiest access to the fire escape.

Collapsing onto the couch, Tommy throws an arm over his head and allows a dreamless sleep to take him.

-

Clang!

Tommy jolts awake at the sound of a pot clattering against the stove, blinking sleep from his eyes. “The fuck..?”

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” Ranboo calls from the kitchen, apparently having gotten home during Tommy’s impromptu nap.

The avian shakes his head, sitting up and peering over the back of the couch at the other boy. “It’s fine. Did- did you get home alright? It was raining pretty hard.”

“Yeah, Karl lent me an umbrella,” Ranboo replies, taking an old box of noodles from the back of a cabinet and briefly inspecting it before dumping it into boiling water. “I’m making spaghetti, by the way.”

Tommy hums in acknowledgement. “Your boss is so nice, man.”

“I mean, I think he just didn’t want one of his employees burning to death in the rain. He is pretty nice, though.” There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence as Tommy watches Ranboo putter around in the small kitchen before the ender hybrid speaks again. “Hey, can you go get Tubbo for dinner? He should be in our room.”

“Got it, big man.” Tommy steps into the other room and sure enough, Tubbo is cross-legged on the mattress, typing away on his modified laptop. “Hey Tubs, dinner’s ready.” The goat hybrid quickly jumps up and follows him back to the kitchen, where the three of them sit down on mismatched stools to eat their meal.

As always, the food is eaten rather quickly, the time passed with quiet conversation about how Tubbo had managed to get some spare parts from Puffy’s Auto Repair, the shop where he works. Soon enough the three of them are sprawled about the living room, Tubbo already drafting up plans for new gear on his laptop while Tommy and Ranboo bicker about who’s going on patrol.

“I’m just saying you’re still new to this, it’ll be safer if I come with you.”

“It was just raining, you’re gonna get burned or some shit! I should go by myself, I’ve done it before and I was fine.”

“You only went by yourself because you snuck out.”

“The rain stopped a while ago, just the ground is a bit wet now. Ranboo should be fine as long as he keeps his shoes on,” Tubbo says, glancing up from his computer. When Tommy makes a doubtful noise, Tubbo continues with a softer voice. “You know I don’t like you going out there alone, Tommy.”

The blonde’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m gonna go get ready now.” Tommy darts back into the bedroom before Tubbo can reply, yanking open a drawer to find his vigilante costume. A white mask that conceals his lower face along with red goggles, as well as a red-and-black jacket that allows his wings to poke through the back, black cargo pants, white fingerless gloves, and of course, red sneakers packed full of Tubbo-made technology. It’s one of Tommy’s proudest (and only) designs to date.

Tommy exits the room to find Ranboo already in his own costume, black mask covering his entire face along with a similarly darkly-colored outfit designed to mock the look of a fancy suit, coattails and all. He clears his throat and Ranboo turns, giving him a joking salute. “Looking good, Red.”

“Same to you, Ender,” Tommy says in an overly serious voice, grinning under his mask. “Shall we head off?”

“Ah, hold on a second, Tommy- aren’t you forgetting something?” Tubbo cuts in, looking equal parts amused and exasperated from where he sits on the couch. “Get over here.”

Tommy jolts into action, darting back over to the couch and laying his fingertips on Tubbo’s outstretched arms. Closing his eyes briefly, the blonde lets his powers reach out, feeling Tubbo’s explosive abilities flow into him as he siphons the other boy’s power. As soon as it’s done he’s jumping back, shaking out his hands at the sudden energy burst.

“Don’t accidentally explode anything this time, big man,” Tubbo grins, “Have fun, and come back safe. That goes for you too, Ranboo! And make sure your comms are connected!”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Tommy yells back, Ranboo making a similar noise of confirmation before the duo walk to the bedroom’s window.

Ranboo grabs his arm, and his tail flicks in excitement. “Well?”

“Let’s get out there!” Tommy grins, and with a flash of purple particles he and Ranboo are off for the night.

Chapter Text

“Guys?”

Tommy stands awkwardly in front of the couch, staring at Tubbo and Ranboo who stare right back as he fidgets anxiously.

“…Yeah?” Tubbo eventually asks when Tommy continues to shuffle his feet silently.

“I’ve been thinking, and uh, I think it would be in all of our best interests if I went and got a job.”

Tubbo blinks. “Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine. You’ve been bored during the day anyway, haven’t you?”

“Uh- yeah,” Tommy says, nonplussed. “I’ll start looking tomorrow, then.”

-

Tommy is the first to get up the next morning, for once awake before Tubbo and Ranboo. He quietly climbs off the mattress, careful not to wake Ranboo as he opens various drawers in search of his least-tattered set of clothes. The avian tucks his wings close to his back, tugging on a jumper and a pair of jeans that have seen better days before walking out to the living room and passing by Tubbo- it had been the brunet's turn to sleep on the couch, the small mattress the three had pooled their money for being too small to comfortably fit all of them every night.

Tommy frowns as the feathers of his wings press uncomfortably against his shirt- he could probably show his wings in public, but… the more different his civilian persona looks to his vigilante one, the better. Winged avians aren't the most common of hybrids, after all.

At least they're small enough to hide without binding them. Now that would be painful. 

(He shudders to think of how Archangel, one of the top heroes, might have to hide his huge crow’s wings while out of costume. Tommy is glad, for convenience’s sake, that his wings aren’t that developed yet- even if Archangel’s are cool as fuck.)

While lost in thought, Tommy rummages through the scarcely-filled kitchen cabinets, eventually landing on a box of some cheap wheat cereal. There’s no milk in the fridge- with how the price of dairy keeps rising and the fact that Tommy is usually the only one who even drinks any of it, the trio had opted to stop buying it for now- so the avian just crunches on the dry cereal.

A few minutes later, Tommy’s alerted to the sound of Ranboo’s light footsteps as the ender hybrid ducks into the room. The taller boy is already fully dressed, apparently having gotten ready while Tommy was still engrossed in his quest for cereal.

“You’re up early,” Ranboo says around a yawn as he scrubs a hand through his black-and-white hair. 

“Earlier than him, at least.” Tommy gestures towards the couch where Tubbo is laying, scarred face mashed into the cushions. With impeccable timing, the goat hybrid rolls over, groaning tiredly as his eyes crack open.

“Fuck’re you talkin’ about?” Tubbo grumbles, glaring at them through squinted eyes as he sits up and peers over the back of the couch. “Y’r too loud.”

Tommy scoffs. “Good morning to you too, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Fuck off,” The brunet yawns, swinging his feet off the couch and plodding into the kitchen to watch Ranboo look through the cabinets. “What’re you eating?”

“Uh, probably just a granola bar,” Ranboo replies, looking over his shoulder, “And Tommy’s eating dry cereal, like a freak.”

“I resent that,” Tommy says around a mouthful of cereal, crumbs spewing everywhere.

Tubbo’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “Eugh- Can you grab me one of those bars too?” 

Ranboo complies and the goat hybrid is quick to rip open the wrapper, scarfing down the granola bar with narrowed eyes at Tommy as the blonde chews deliberately loudly. He finishes his meal with record speed, Ranboo being barely halfway through his own breakfast when Tubbo throws the empty wrapper away. Tommy’s only just put his bowl away as Tubbo then turns and darts out of the room, saying something about needing to grab some stuff.

“Any idea what that’s about?” Tommy frowns.

“Probably trying to escape your disgusting chewing sounds, man.”

“I’ll have you know-”

“I made you some ‘legal documents’, Tommy,” Tubbo interrupts as he re-enters the room, making air quotes with one hand and holding a manila folder with a few papers inside in the other. “For your job hunt. You’re lucky I already thought to make new ones after-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh- Thanks, Tubs.” Tommy reaches out to catch the folder as Tubbo drops it unceremoniously into his hands, passing by the blonde to sit back down at the counter.

Pulling open the folder, Tommy’s eyes scan quickly over the ‘personal information’ section before he pauses and frowns at the paper. “You know I’m sixteen, right?”

“We don’t have to worry about child labor laws if they think we’re legal adults- plus, it’s easier to lie about our ages than to lie about having legal guardians.”

“Fair enough,” Tommy concedes. The last thing they need is for Tommy and Ranboo to get sent back to the foster system or an orphanage while Tubbo is placed back with his father.

Especially considering who his father is. There are many reasons for Tommy to hate Mayor Schlatt, and Tubbo’s childhood makes up most of them.

“I thought you were seventeen?” Ranboo chimes in. “I could've sworn your birthday was a few months ago.”

“Nah, you’re probably thinking of yours or Tubbo’s birthday- I haven’t had mine yet.” Tommy walks over to the ender hybrid, peeking over his shoulder where Ranboo's flipping through his memory book.

“Oh, yeah. I've got it in here already, I just haven’t checked in a while.” Ranboo briefly holds it up, showing the entry to the other two before Tommy returns to inspecting the documents Tubbo had given him.

“You gave me a nerd name. Thomas Innes? Really?”

“Yeah, nerdy just like you.”

Tommy gasps, offended. “You take that back!”

Tubbo leans back in his chair, pretending to inspect his nails casually. “Nah.”

“Why you fuckin’-”

“Alright, alright, you two, break it up,” Ranboo says with a laugh, “Tubbo, we both have to leave soon so you should probably get ready.”

The goat hybrid sighs loudly, shoulders slumping before he drags himself out of his seat. “Way to take away my win, Ran- boob.”  

“Hey man, I’m just trying to keep us on time here,” Ranboo shrugs, turning to Tommy, “Speaking of, I think most places should be open by now if you wanna head out. Might be helpful to go early so you can beat the lunch rush.”

“Yeahhhh… I’m actually ready now, so I’ll see you two later?”

Ranboo smiles encouragingly. “Yep! Good luck!”

“Good luck, don’t kill anybody!” Tubbo calls from the bedroom.

“Bye!” Tommy raises his voice so he can be heard by the both of them as he sweeps through the door of the apartment and down to the street below.

As it turns out, finding a viable job is more difficult than Tommy had originally anticipated. The vast majority that are available in his home district are either night shift- which he can’t take because it would mess with his patrol schedule- or are at a place that’s just a bit too dodgy for the blonde to risk going in. He ends up walking all the way up to district six- thank Prime the apartment he lives in isn’t too far from the border- and eventually finds himself sitting in an office in the back of some grocery store, apparently being ‘interviewed’ for the noble position of cashier.

“And just to confirm the information here is correct, could you tell me your national ID number?”

Tommy stares blankly. “Uh. Can I… have that back for a second?” He gestures at the folder containing his forged documents that he had handed to the lady giving him the interview a few minutes prior.

The interviewer gives him a flat, bored look but hands the folder over without complaint. Tommy quickly scans over the document, looking over the short line of numbers and trying fruitlessly to memorize it in a few short seconds. Straightening his posture, he hands the folder back and tries to recite the ID as if he already knew it and was just making sure it was on the paper.

“My ID number is 12… 3..?” Tommy falters. “I can’t- sorry, can I see that again?”

Needless to say, he doesn’t get that job.

Or the next one.

Or the next- the fucker running this place had the gall to judge Tommy’s ratty clothes with a scathing remark on how they ‘like their employees to look more professional’- as if it wasn’t a fucking convenience store. He sighs, noting down the name of yet another job that he’s been rejected from in his phone as he leaves.

The blonde ends up making his way into the heart of district six, absently kicking a rock along the pavement as he peers into store windows hoping to catch a glimpse of a ‘Help Wanted’ sign. His salvation comes in the form of a small, unassuming coffee shop with a neatly-written sign taped up near the door proclaiming them to be ‘Now hiring!’

Pushing open the glass door with a jingle, Tommy steps inside and is greeted by the sight of a pink-haired girl rearranging pastries in a display case behind the counter. When she turns and catches sight of him, her face breaks into a warm grin. “Welcome to Sam’s Cafe! How can I help you?”

“Uh,” Tommy starts, walking up to the counter then pausing, unsure of where to stand, “I saw the help wanted sign.”

“Oh, are you here for a job?” At Tommy’s nod, the young woman smiles brightly. “That’s great! Hold on a second, I’ll go get my boss for you.” She holds a finger up in a ‘wait’ gesture and walks through a door behind the counter, presumably into the back room of the shop. It’s not long before she re-emerges, this time with another person in tow.

The man who walks just a few steps behind her has dark green hair, his face dotted with green scales- a creeper hybrid, his intimidating stature only slightly softened by the apron he wears with the name of the cafe printed above a picture of a cartoon dog. 

“Hey, I’m Sam. Are you applying to work here?” He sticks out a hand to shake and Tommy nervously takes it, grinning up at him in an attempt to hide his nervousness.

“Yep! My name’s Tommy, I uh- saw the sign by the door and thought I’d give it a shot.”

“Alright! Well, I suppose we should head back so I can do your interview- nothing too formal, I just need to ask a few questions so I can see if you’re a good fit for the cafe.” Sam glances over at the worker who had gone to fetch him. “You can go back to what you were doing, I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

As if on cue, the bell attached to the front door jingles again, and the pink-haired girl- Tommy really needs to learn her name, but he hadn’t thought to look at the tag attached to her apron earlier- gives a joking salute to Sam before she turns to deal with the new customer, rattling off her usual spiel as Sam guides the blonde around the counter and through a door to the back of the cafe. Glancing back at the girl, Tommy has just enough time to see her mouth the words “Good luck!” at him over her shoulder with a reassuring crinkle to her eyes as the door closes.

The back room mostly consists of shelves of ingredients, with some refrigerated foods along the far wall. Sam doesn’t pause, leading Tommy through another door into a small office.

“Okay, why don’t you have a seat and we’ll get started?”

Tommy sits down on the chair that Sam gestures to, holding his folder tightly as the creeper hybrid settles on the other side of the desk. After a moment of fiddling with his computer, Sam turns to face him. “Have you brought any identification with you?”

“Uh, yeah.” Quickly nodding his head, the blonde hands him the folder of papers. To Tommy’s surprise, Sam barely even looks at the papers, merely giving them a cursory glance before setting them aside and training his full attention on the boy. 

(He doesn’t even ask about the line claiming that Tommy’s powerless- something the blonde is glad for, having gotten tired of spewing the same rehearsed lie that he’d given the last couple of interviewers.)

“Looks good to me,” Sam says as he sets aside the folder, placing it down on the desk. “So, what made you want to work here?”

Tommy can barely stop himself from blurting out the most obvious answer- because I want money, duh. “Well, it seems like a pretty nice place and all. You’ve even got a dog in your logo, which is cool as hell- sorry, heck- and I believe that this cafe deserves the honor of having a great and powerful man such as myself work for it.”

There’s a long pause. 

Well, shit. Tommy’s somehow managed to come up with the only answer worse than just wanting money.

Just when he’s about to start apologizing, he’s interrupted by a snort from the other side of the desk.

“Ha- Sorry, sorry, it’s just- pff- that has to be the boldest answer I’ve ever heard,” Sam laughs, wiping an imaginary tear from his face. “Alright, alright. Would this be your first job?”

“N-” Tommy cuts himself off, remembering very quickly that his old job probably thinks he’s dead. “Yes, it would be. But I can learn quickly!”

There are a couple more questions- mostly personality-based, before the interview starts wrapping up. 

“Aaand… last question, what’s your availability, and when would you be able to start working?”

“Well, I’d like to only take day shifts if possible. And I’m free to start pretty much whenever. I could even do, like- today if you wanted me to.”

“Today, really?” The creeper hybrid blinks at him, looking slightly bemused, and Tommy nods enthusiastically.

“Yep! I’ve got nothing else goin’ on, I’m married to the grind!”

Sam smiles in that way people do when they’re trying not to laugh before shifting into a more thoughtful expression. He looks at the blonde, briefly making eye contact before decisively nodding to himself, pushing himself up out of his chair, and reaching out to shake Tommy’s hand again. “Well, I for one think you’d make a great addition to our team. If you’d follow me, I can introduce you to your new coworkers.”

A shock of relief washes through Tommy. “Thank you so much, man!”

The two walk back through the back room and into the store. The girl from before is no longer alone behind the counter- beside her stands a man with close-shaven hair and glasses that seem to be mimicking the look of 3d glasses from a movie theater. Their conversation pauses as they hear the door swing open upon Tommy and Sam’s return, the both of them turning to look at the source of the noise.

Recognition lights up in the girl’s eyes when she spots Tommy. “Hi, nice to see you again! Did everything go well?”

Tommy nods and Sam puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, smiling proudly. “Niki, Jack, meet your newest coworker.” He glances down at the avian, who falters before awkwardly sticking his hand out towards the duo.

“I’m Tommy,” He says, relaxing slightly when Niki shakes his hand- he’d started worrying they’d leave him hanging for a second there- and introduces herself.

“I’m sure you just heard from Sam, but I’m Niki, and this is Jack!” She lets go of Tommy’s hand, gesturing towards the short-haired man.

“Good to have you on the team, mate.” Jack shakes Tommy’s hand as well before stepping back.

“You said you could start today, right?” Sam asks, turning back to Tommy.

“Uh, yeah! That’s fine with me, big man.”

“Great!” Sam exclaims, clapping his hands together. “Niki, Jack, how about you two show him the ropes while I get his information put into the system? Tommy, it’ll be a short shift for today while I get your employee file set up, but these two can hopefully teach you the basics.”

“You got it, Sam.” Jack nods before turning to Tommy. “Come on then, I’ll show you around the place.”

Tommy dutifully follows him around the work area behind the counter, trying to take in all of Jack’s words as he describes the various appliances and their uses. A lot of it just goes in one ear and out the other- Tommy already knows he’s going to have to ask for help a few times too many before he gets the hang of things. Eventually there’s a lull in business, only one person sitting at a table drinking their coffee. Niki takes the opportunity to switch off with Jack, proceeding to show Tommy where ingredients for the drinks are stored. 

Beginning to feel like his brain is going to start leaking from his ears if he has to handle any more of an information overload, Tommy steps back from Niki and instead turns to watch as Jack brews an espresso for a customer. The coffee machine stutters, making an odd clunking sound.

“Come on, you…” Jack mutters under his breath before clenching his hand, summoning sparks of electricity around it. Tommy stares in astonishment as the man lays a single finger on the machine and zaps it back to life, coffee beginning to pour out as if nothing had happened.

“Holy shit, that was cool as hell,” Tommy says, just barely loud enough for his coworkers to hear it. 

Jack rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Eh, it’s nothing, really.”

“Oh come on man, that was awesome!” Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. “I wouldn’t have even thought of using an electricity power for that.”

“Honestly, I only know that move works because this one machine is always trying to break down. At this point I’m not even sure how it’s still intact.” Jack shrugs. “Ah, well. Here, come watch me take some orders so you can see how it’s done, yeah?”

A short while passes that way- Niki and Jack instructing Tommy on various things around the cafe while their conversation slowly turns from polite small talk to friendly banter. Sam finally returns from the office as Tommy laughs loudly at a joke Jack had made, the three looking over when the creeper hybrid clears his throat to get their attention. 

“Alright, Tommy, I’ve got your employee file all set up. Here, your papers.” Sam hands the folder- holy shit, Tommy forgot all about that- back to the blonde. “I hope these two didn’t mess around too much.”

Shaking his head, Tommy waves him off with a grin. “Nah, I learned so much you wouldn’t believe it. I’m about to be the best coffee maker in this whole district.”

Sam just laughs. “I’ll hold you to that. You’re free to go for today, but I’ll contact you later with your schedule once I get that all figured out. Have a good one!”

“You too, bye!” Tommy waves and practically skips out the door, giddy at his success. A new job- at this rate he and his friends are going to be fucking rich! 

At least, that’s what he would say if he were a liar. It does feel nice to finally be contributing to the household again, though.

It really helps that he already likes his new coworkers, too. Tommy doesn’t exactly remember much about his old job, but he has the distinct impression of a vague dread associated with going to yet another overtime shift. In comparison, these new people are already much better company, even if the kitchen appliances are impossible puzzles to the blonde’s mind.

Tommy’s never been good at making friends, but looking down at the new contacts in his phone… he thinks this could be a pretty good start.

Chapter Text

Working at a cafe is simultaneously easier and more difficult than Tommy was expecting. It’s not making the drinks that gives him issue- he’s actually good at that, surprisingly- it’s the customers.

Tommy’s never worked a customer-facing job before, and getting used to the near-constant interaction is quite a daunting task. Sam’s Cafe gets a decent amount of business most days, and the lunch rush always leaves the trio of employees working the storefront scrambling. Oftentimes Sam will come out and help them himself, making sure everything is running smoothly while reducing the workload on their backs.

Luckily, most of the customers Tommy sees are fairly polite. There are a few Karens though. The blonde had even had to stop using his phone to note down people’s orders after some middle-aged man had scolded him for ‘not paying attention to the job’- now he just keeps the corresponding menu number for each order in his mind and hopes he ends up making the right thing. It’s successful most of the time.

One thing these experiences have given Tommy is the ability to predict when someone is going to be a difficult customer- and it’s with this ability that he knows the sweater-clad, lanky man who’s just walked into the store is going to order some over-complicated bullshit. His hair is on the longer side, nearly brushing his shoulders- what is he, some kind of hippie?

Despite his admittedly judgemental thoughts, Tommy plasters a polite smile onto his face. “Welcome to Sam’s Cafe, how can I help you?”

The man returns Tommy’s greeting with a half-smile of his own, glancing up as he opens his mouth to order only to suddenly stop short. It’s after a few seconds that Tommy realizes he’s looking at the white streak that sits prominently in the front of the blonde’s hair.

“Hey-” Feeling more than a little defensive, Tommy reaches out and snaps his fingers in front of the man’s face. “You got a staring problem, pal?”

“Oh!” The man jolts, startled out of whatever reverie he had been in. “Sorry, sorry. I just noticed your hair- look, we match!” He gestures towards his brown locks and sure enough there are a few lighter, platinum blonde strands nestled among them, though there are much less of them than Tommy has. They’re not the brilliant white of Tommy’s own hair streak, either, and the idea of telling the man just how shit he must’ve been at bleaching it is becoming more tempting by the second.

“…Okay?” Tommy raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Are you gonna fuckin’ order or are we just gonna stand here all day?”

Caught off guard, the brunet lets out a surprised laugh. “Wow, okay, I see Sam didn’t hire you for your customer service skills. I’ll have a…” He makes a show of looking up at the menu. “Grande caramel macchiato with one-third whole milk, one-third almond milk, one-third soy milk, double the normal amount of vanilla syrup, caramel wall in the cup, no caramel drizzle on top, extra ice, whipped cream, with one shot extra espresso and cinnamon sprinkled on top.”

What. The. Fuck.

“Sir, that’s not on the menu,” Tommy says with a strained grin. The brunet simply smirks and points up at the menu on the wall, which displays a large ‘customize your own drink’ option. Tommy turns to look at it, then levels a glare at the man. “I’m not making this shit.”

“Niki would’ve made it for me,” The brunet pouts, and great, this motherfucker knows Niki- which probably means he’s a fucking regular. Tommy is actually going to die if he has to serve this guy again.

“Well I’m not Niki, am I?”

“Right, you’re…” The man leans in and squints at Tommy’s nametag. “Tommy. Tommy, my friend, would you please make this coffee for me?”

With narrowed eyes, Tommy covers the pin on his apron. “What the fuck? You’re lookin’ for my name now, creep?” 

“It’s literally on your- you know what, nevermind. Look, I’ll give you one hell of a tip if you just give me my order.”

Well, Tommy’s never been one to refuse extra money.

“Fine,” He grits out, turning to make the mocha-fucking- whatever this guy had ordered.

Not that he even knows what the order was supposed to be- if only Niki or Jack were here, they could’ve had at least a chance at remembering it. 

Oh, well. He’ll just throw something together and if the guy doesn’t like it, hopefully that’ll discourage him from coming back. Tommy scowls at the coffee as he pours in various syrups, mulling over how he’s going to serve this fuck-up that he’s been forced to make. Eventually, he dredges up enough willpower to turn around and walk back to the counter.

“Order for…” He pauses. What was the guy’s name? Did Tommy seriously forget to ask for a name for the order?

In a rare stroke of luck, however, the brunet is currently the only customer in the cafe, so it’s easy to get his attention. “Hey! Hipster bitch! Your coffee is done!”

“Wh-” The man jolts, looking up from his phone. “Oh, did I not give you my name?”

“I don’t care what your-”

“It’s Will. Will Craft. Nice to meet you, by the way.” He takes a swig of the coffee then pauses. “This is not what I ordered.”

“Um,” Tommy flounders, unsure of what to do. He had really been hoping for Will to leave the cafe before trying his drink- expecting it even, so much, in fact, that he hadn’t bothered to think of how the customer would react upon discovering that Tommy had just created a random concoction instead of his actual order.

The man’s name has thrown him off, as well. Will Craft? What a brutal combination of first and last names- Tommy can only imagine how many jokes he’s probably heard about it over the years.

“I’m sorry?” The blonde eventually offers, painfully aware that he doesn’t sound sincere in the slightest. Will doesn’t even seem to hear him, though, looking at his cup with a contemplative expression before taking another sip.

“Wait, this is good.”

Tommy blinks in surprise. “I- excuse me?”

Will holds out the cup, staring at it. His golden eyes are oddly intense as they fixate on the coffee, and Tommy briefly wonders if the otherwise human-looking man has latent hybrid blood of some kind.  “This is actually really good, what the fuck? What did you make?”

“I’ve got no clue, big man,” Tommy says with a shrug. “Kinda just threw shit together.”

“Well you’ve got talent, kid. Wow, I need to come over here more often.”

“I’m not a kid, you insufferable prick, and don’t come back.” 

The brunet just smiles, dropping a wad of bills in the tip jar and waving as he walks away like Tommy hadn’t said anything. “Bye, strange child! See you later!”

“You FUCKER-” Tommy stops, shoulders slumping as he realizes Will is already out of earshot.

Well, if that encounter wasn’t proof that he needs to get his shit together, he doesn’t know what is. With that in mind, he snatches a small pad of paper from Sam’s office before he leaves the store a few hours later.

From here on out, Tommy thinks, no more fucking up people’s orders.

He pauses.

Except for that bitch with the badly-bleached hair.

Over the next few weeks, the blonde keeps true to his mental promise to himself. He writes down orders on his trusty notepad- it’s not a screen, so the angry old geezers who sometimes shop at the cafe can’t whine at him about it- with the exception of when Will walks in. He’ll put away the notepad and Will, ever the nuisance, will order a different, horrifically complicated concoction every time. And every time, Tommy will throw together whatever new invention he had come up with on a whim and serve it to the brunet.

Somehow, Will thinks it’s good every single time. Tommy is beginning to think he’s got faulty taste buds at this point because there’s no way Will had actually enjoyed drinking his newest invention, which happened to include roughly 12 pumps of blueberry syrup and enough espresso to kill a fully grown man.

Despite the increasing ridiculousness of the drinks Tommy gives him, Will keeps coming back. And to Tommy’s horror, he finds himself beginning to enjoy the man’s company. He looks forward to it, even, on slow days when his coworkers are occupied with other tasks and he’s got no one to talk to.

“Seriously? There’s no way you told a customer to, and I quote, ‘Step off, bitch’ just because he stood too close to the counter.”

“Well, if you’d let me finish my story,” Tommy snarks, crossing his arms, “You would’ve known that I only said that after he tried to reach over and touch my hair.”

Will looks taken aback for a moment, then cackles loudly enough to disturb the couple sitting at a table in the corner. “Okay, well that justifies it! Good for you, mate, always standing up for yourself.”

“See, I knew you’d agree with me.” Tommy nods, absently pushing blonde strands away from where they’re tangling with the feathers along his hairline. “This is what I get for being so cool- people can’t get enough of the Tommy experience.”

Tommy pauses, looking up to see Will’s amused expression before continuing. “I’m pretty sure that guy was just on drugs or something, though.”

“You can’t just say that,” Will laughs, covering his mouth as he giggles uncontrollably. “What if the- the drug police hear you?”

“The fucking what??” A wide grin threatens to split Tommy’s face at the brunet’s misspoken words. “Will- Will. My friend. I’m pretty sure that there isn’t an official branch of the Manberg police department called the drug police.”

“Whatever, you insolent child,” Will retorts, ignoring Tommy’s offended spluttering, “Hey, don’t you have a coffee to make me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way,” Tommy says, grabbing a cup from behind the counter and walking to the coffee machines. A few minutes later, a fresh cup of whatever is sitting on the counter before Will, steaming in the cool air.

“Thanks, gremlin.” Will takes a sip, and as per usual, nods in satisfaction as if the coffee is solving some kind of craving. 

Shaking his head in mock disbelief, Tommy rests his elbows on the counter. “I still have no idea how you apparently like every coffee I make.”

“Variety is the spice of life, my friend,” Will says with a shit-eating grin.

The blonde scowls. “You are so pretentious.”

“Yeah, but you love me though,” the brunet sing-songs, patting Tommy’s shoulder in a condescending manner.

“I certainly do not. As a matter of fact, actually, my shift is almost over. So, like… you can fuck off, now.”

Will waves a hand around dismissively. “I’ll wait, I can see you off.”

“Alright, I-” Tommy pauses in the middle of taking off his apron, squinting at the cafe’s front windows. “Is it fuckin’ raining out there?”

The brunet blinks and turns. “Shit, yeah. It’s actually pouring.”

“…Is there any chance you brought an umbrella, Will?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Shit.” Tommy turns to catch the eyes of Niki, who’s refilling one of the syrup containers further away from the counter. “Niki, do you have an umbrella?”

Niki shakes her head with a sympathetic frown. “Sorry, Tommy. Looks like we all came unprepared today.”

Shoulders slumped in defeat, Tommy prepares to accept the reality of once again being soaked to the bone by rainwater. “Well- I guess I’ll just have to run for it, then.” He begins to make his way to the door, but is stopped by Will.

“Hold on, how about this-” Will begins to wrestle off the coat he usually wears. “You can borrow my jacket, that way your clothes won’t get too wet.” He holds out the jacket, but Tommy pushes his hands away.

“Will, man, you don’t have an umbrella either. I’m not having you get soaked just because I didn’t dress for the weather.”

“I- alright, then. Will you at least take this?” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a beanie, and awkwardly holds it out to Tommy.

Tommy’s face scrunches up in confusion. “You… just happened to have a hat in your pocket?” The blonde takes the hat, looking down at it then back up at Will. “I don’t want your lice, though.”

“I don’t have- you know what, fine, give it back.”

“No, fuck you.” Tommy glares, pulling the beanie down over his golden curls. “It’s mine forever now.”

“Whatever you say, Toms.”

The two step through the door together, pausing under the awning in the last moment before entering the storm. 

“Uh-” Tommy coughs, awkwardly looking away. “Thanks, Will.”

“You’re welcome,” Will utters, and Tommy is all too aware of the brunet’s soft look as he darts off into the rain.

He’s lucky enough to find his way back to the apartment fairly easily, having become practiced from his weeks spent working at Sam’s. Predictably, all of Tommy’s clothes get drenched in the rain, cold water seeping through to his wings, but the beanie somehow keeps most of Tommy’s hair blissfully dry. He stumbles into the apartment with the telltale squeak of wet shoes against hard floors, alerting Tubbo from where he’s washing dishes.

“Oh, hey Tommy,” Tubbo says, pausing slightly as he takes in the blonde’s appearance. “What’s with the hat?”

“It’s from that prick at work, the one with the crazy coffee order,” Tommy answers without pause, rushing into the bedroom and speedrunning his way into a set of dry clothes.

“You mean the crazy coffee order that you created?” Tubbo calls with a laugh, making Tommy fake a pout as he emerges back into the living room.

“I’ve just had to run through the rain, Tubbo, I can’t handle being called out like this.” He flops down on the couch, startling Ranboo who sits with his notebook in his lap. “Hey, ‘Boo.”

“Hey, Tommy. You have a good day?”

“Didn’t have any dickheads like the one from yesterday come in, so it was fine.” Tommy leans sideways, plopping his head down on Ranboo’s shoulder. “I’m tired.”

Ranboo laughs quietly. “Go to sleep, then.”

For once, Tommy is happy to oblige.

Chapter Text

Tommy opens his eyes to darkness. A darkness so all-consuming that when he holds his hand out, he can’t even see it in front of his face.

Does he even have a hand?

He’s laying down, but he can’t feel the floor beneath him. It-

It should be cold. Tommy feels like he should be shivering, but instead there’s a complete lack of temperature.

There is nothing.

Tommy is nothing.

A hand touches his shoulder.

-

“It happened again,” Tubbo says, hands still pressed against Tommy’s shoulders where he’d shaken the blonde awake. Tommy blinks tiredly, blue eyes flitting across his friend’s pale face and shaking shoulders. The stress in Tubbo’s expression and the coldness only just barely beginning to seep out of his body confirms what he’s just been told.

Indeed it did, he thinks but doesn’t say, instead reaching up to trace a reassuring hand across Tubbo’s cheek- his fingers dance unsurely along the scars on his skin as if in unfamiliar territory, but Tommy knows Tubbo, even if he doesn’t remember where the markings came from. 

Even though he’s visibly uneasy, the brunet keeps up a brave face as he checks over the other boy- Tommy has returned to Limbo in his sleep before, and he will again. It’s something they’ve all resigned themselves to as an unfortunate side effect of using the book.

(The first time it happened, Tommy thinks, didn’t go so smoothly. There’s a memory, so faint that it feels like something he had imagined rather than experienced, of a terrified scream and frantic hands clutching at his stiff body.)

Tommy understands, though, Tubbo’s turmoil. Tommy was- he was- 

He was dead. 

He hates to think about it. Hates to even admit it to himself. Every time he’s wrenched back to that place, staring into the void he had languished in for an unknown amount of time, he’s forced to face the fact that he shouldn’t be alive.  

Tommy had died, and only through unnatural forces had he cheated that mechanism. The book, Tubbo, Ranboo- his friends had violated the very laws of nature to get him back.

The blonde heaves himself up into a sitting position on the couch, ignoring Tubbo’s protests as he scrambles to convince Tommy to lay back down. 

“I’m fine, Tubs, look,” The avian says, standing up. Almost instantly his numb legs betray him, knees buckling and almost sending him toppling to the floor. It’s only Tubbo’s intervention that keeps Tommy upright, the brunet setting him back on the couch.

“Your definition of ‘fine’ is very different from mine, bossman.” Tubbo gives Tommy a deadpan stare. “Here, just lay down until you feel a bit better.” 

Tommy waits until Tubbo sits on the couch next to him before leaning over and plopping his head into Tubbo’s lap. It’s harder to pout when you’re laying sideways, so Tommy gives up on the glare he had been aiming at the goat hybrid.

One of Tubbo’s scarred hands begins to weave through his hair, absently making patterns in the blonde curls. The white locks at the front of Tommy’s head are left notably untouched.

As he gradually relaxes, feeling coming back to his body, Tommy’s eyelids flutter tiredly. Every time they almost shut he forces his eyes back open- he can’t bring himself to fall back asleep, not when there's the ever-present risk of going back to Limbo hanging over him.

Eventually, after the leaden feeling has mostly left Tommy’s limbs, Ranboo emerges from the bedroom. The ender hybrid pauses at the sight of him and Tubbo on the couch, eyes flashing with a worried look. “You two alright?”

“Tommy had one of those dreams,” Tubbo says, and Ranboo’s unsure expression quickly turns to a sympathetic one. All three of them already know what Tubbo means- Tommy doesn’t have dreams other than Limbo anymore, not since he was revived.

It’s a pretty shitty side effect that the dream affects him physically, too. He’ll wake up to feel his skin cold to the touch, his pulse unnaturally slow, stiffness throughout every limb. The first few times, viewed through the foggy and warped lense of Tommy’s memories, were full of panic, shaking hands pressed to his throat and wrists; desperately searching for a heartbeat while tears slid down pale faces. There’s one small reprieve in all of this, though- he doesn’t have the dream every night. In fact, most nights pass without any dreams at all.

But still, Tubbo and Ranboo tend to hover over him for just a bit too long after he comes back to himself. He knows they’re just worried, but it can get-

A pang of hunger hits his stomach. Prime, Tommy feels like shit.

Maybe an average person would be glad it’s at least their day off, but Tommy is actually quite annoyed at the lack of the distraction that his job would provide him.

Tommy’s stomach growls again and Ranboo darts off into the kitchen, leaving Tommy to sit up and slump back against the couch. Tubbo wraps one arm around him and squeezes, giving him a brief side hug before getting up.

“I’ll go make sure Ranboo doesn’t make some horrible concoction for you,” He tells Tommy, who returns his smile halfheartedly as the brunet walks away. The blonde stares after him, eventually mustering up enough energy to fully turn around and watch his friends over the back of the couch. Resting his chin on his hands, Tommy waits.

His eyes are half-lidded with exhaustion when Ranboo and Tubbo walk back over to the couch, startling him when Tubbo gently shakes his shoulder. Ranboo is holding two bowls of soup when Tommy turns back around, and he puts one down on the rickety side table next to the blonde.

“I made some tomato soup. Should probably let it cool down before you eat it, though,” Ranboo says with a nod towards the steaming bowl.

Scrubbing a hand over his face in an effort to wake himself up, Tommy shoots Ranboo what he hopes is a grateful look. “Thank you.”

“Mhm, don’t mention it.” The ender hybrid then sits down next to Tommy, between the blonde and Tubbo who had already situated himself on the other end of the couch. It’s a tight fit, but the trio makes it work.

As the three of them eat their meal, Tommy absentmindedly watches the small TV that came with the apartment. It’s only got a few channels- he’s not about to pay for cable when he can just have Tubbo pirate shows for him- so he’s stuck looking at the weatherman who somehow always gets the forecast wrong. Today, the guy is talking some shit about there being a tornado warning in effect- Tommy is beginning to wonder how the man even still has his job when his thoughts are interrupted by a sudden voice.

“You know, we used to practically live off this shit when we were on the streets.”

Tommy turns to look at Tubbo, finding that the brunet is already gazing towards him and Ranboo. “Yeah?” He asks, hoping it’ll prompt Tubbo to elaborate. For better or worse, Tommy’s revival cost him the majority of his memories from before- so he’s always interested when his friends start to reminisce.

“Mhm. It kept well, and the cans are pretty convenient to carry around.” Tubbo laughs softly. “Though, the soup definitely tastes better when it’s heated up.”

“I can imagine.” As Tommy stares pensively at the last few bites of soup in his bowl, flashes of memories float through his mind. They’re immaterial, wisps, dissolving when he tries to focus on one. But despite the frustration, despite the fact that he knows living on the streets as a young teen was largely miserable-

All it leaves is an impression of warmth, immune to any circumstances. Something about being with Tubbo and Ranboo tends to do that.

Before he knows it, Tommy’s finished his meal. Getting up from the couch, he stops to grab Tubbo and Ranboo’s empty bowls and take them into the kitchen as well. As the avian scrubs the bowls and utensils Ranboo approaches him, stopping a short distance back to ensure no water droplets from the sink will splash onto him.

“Hey, uh… once you’re done with that, do you want me and Tubbo to preen your wings? It’s been a while, and I know they’re usually cooped up under your shirt so it might be good for you.” As he talks, Ranboo’s eyes dart to the point on Tommy’s back where he knows the blonde’s wings hide under his shirt. Admittedly, the feathers are getting kind of scraggly, but…

“Nah, I did it earlier this week so I’m all good,” Tommy says with a decisive shake of his head. He leaves out the part where he doesn’t want to get preened because it makes his head all fuzzy and makes him want to make annoying bird sounds; Tubbo and Ranboo don’t need to deal with all that.

Adjusting to having wings has been… difficult, to say the least. Tommy had always been completely and utterly human, in addition to being powerless- that is, before his revival. The differences in his own body, along with learning to control a power that he’d never possessed before, had made the first months of Tommy’s new life a whirlwind of confusion.

He does his best to deal with it himself, though.

Ranboo lets out a breath. “Alright, if you’re sure.” Tommy stares after the ender hybrid for a brief moment as he walks away before finishing drying the dishes and putting them back in a cupboard. At the very least, eating and doing the dishes has made Tommy feel more awake, but now there’s a new problem-

There aren’t any more distractions from Tommy’s inner turmoil.

If only he had work today, the blonde laments, he would be well occupied with running around making drinks and dealing with customers, but no- Sam just has to insist on giving his workers days off like a reasonable boss.

Tommy’s wings puff up in agitation under his shirt, and he winces at the feeling of feathers prickling against fabric. It would be a lot more comfortable if it had holes in the back like the shirt and jacket he wears as his vigilante persona do. 

Speaking of his vigilante costume…

Tommy grins triumphantly. Going on patrol would be the perfect way to occupy himself. He traipses away from the sink and into the bedroom, already rummaging through drawers to get his suit when Tubbo walks in.

“What are you doing?”

Tommy pauses. “…Patrol?”

Tubbo frowns and crosses his arms. “Really? Right now? Are you sure you feel good enough for it?”

Nodding emphatically, Tommy turns to face the goat hybrid with his suit bundled in his arms. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just… I need a distraction, y’know?”

“Alright,” Tubbo sighs, his face softening ever so slightly, “I’ll go get Ranboo and you two can go.”

“Actually- I want to go alone.” Tommy falters as Tubbo looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Just for today!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Wh- Please!” Tommy yelps, scrambling to his feet and following as Tubbo walks out of the room. 

“Nope! You can take one of us with you, or you can stay here.”

“Tubbo!”

From his place on the couch, Ranboo coughs awkwardly. “What are you guys yelling about?”

“Tommy here thinks it’s a good idea to go patrol by himself right after having a Limbo dream.”

“Tubbo is being a BITCH!”

Ranboo blinks worriedly, tail flicking back and forth. “Are you even well enough to go, Tommy?”

Throwing his hands into the air with frustration, Tommy groans. “Yes, I just wanna do something so I don’t have to think about being an undead affront to nature all day!”

The turn of phrase makes Tubbo pause, stopping his argument for just a moment. “You’re not an affront to nature.” The moment is quickly over, though, as the brunet begins to talk again, building more steam as he goes. “But you still shouldn’t be out there by yourself! What if something happens to you? I can’t do that again.”

Ranboo’s hand lands on Tubbo’s shoulder, snapping the shorter boy out of it. “Let’s calm down, okay?” Ranboo guides him to sit down on the couch, gesturing for Tommy to follow. “I hear what you’re both saying, and I understand where you’re coming from. But…” He hesitates. “I feel like maybe we should let Tommy go, just this once.”

Tubbo sits bolt upright, glaring at Ranboo. “What?!”

“Okay- just think about it,” Ranboo says, holding up his hands placatingly. “We normally patrol at nighttime, which would definitely be too dangerous to work alone in, but it’s the middle of the day right now. Statistically speaking, there are less criminals out and about because there’s a higher risk of them getting caught. So as long as he avoids the hero patrol routes, Tommy should be fine.”

All three of them are silent as Tubbo contemplates- he’s still frowning, but his agitation seems to ebb away with every passing moment. Finally, his shoulders slump.

“Maybe…”

Tommy perks up. “Really?”

“Alright, alright, fine.” Tubbo waves a hand around exasperatedly. “Go suit up, then.” Tommy is quick to comply, popping back into the living room with a grin on his face, though it can’t be seen behind his mask. Tubbo stands and walks over to him, briefly reaching out to straighten the blonde’s jacket. “You better be careful. And do not engage with any heroes or supervillains. Normal crime stuff, alright?”

“Got it,” Tommy chirps with a salute. Tubbo just pats him roughly on the shoulder and walks away, leaving Tommy to approach Ranboo. “Ranboo, could you..?”

“Mhm, here.” The ender hybrid holds out a hand, letting Tommy take hold of it. Ever so carefully, the blonde reaches out with his powers, slowly siphoning Ranboo’s teleportation ability into himself. When Tommy’s done, he steps back- the power is like pop rocks fizzing under his skin, and he has to hop in place a few times to shake off the excess energy.

“Alright, I’m off then!”

“Turn on your comms,” Tubbo calls as he flips open his laptop, “We’ll keep an eye on you from here.”

Tommy nods, reaching up to his ear and pressing a few buttons to turn on his hidden earpiece and microphone before teleporting outside, landing on the roof of the building next door. He laughs as he teleports from building to building, relishing in the fresh air and the brief feeling of falling before he lands. After a few minutes of just traveling across the city, Tommy speaks into his comms.

“Apis, you got anything for me?”

The sounds of a keyboard tapping filter through the earpiece for a moment before Tubbo replies. “My CCTV is picking up some very sus individuals heading towards a warehouse in Fifth.”

“I’m on my way.”

It only takes a minute after Tubbo gives him the location for Tommy to land on the roof of the aforementioned warehouse, already cataloging various ways to get in. If it comes down to it he could just blindly teleport inside, but that poses the risk of him completely blowing his cover.

Luckily it seems Tommy won’t have to resort to that, as his eyes alight on a large vent on the side of the building.

“I’m going in, turning off my comms for now so they don’t give me away.”

“Alright, good luck.”

Pulling out a short blade from his belt, Tommy sinks it into a crack between bricks and shimmies down the wall until he reaches the vent, quickly unscrewing the cover and climbing in. He sets the vent cover behind him just inside the entrance of the vent, careful not to let the metal clatter together. As he crawls his way deeper into the building, Tommy is profoundly glad that the vents are more than wide enough to accommodate his body, even with his wings. 

(Though, the feathers are guaranteed to be caked in dust by the time this is over.) 

He finally reaches the end of the vent, finding himself situated near the ceiling of the warehouse, and removes the cover in a similar fashion to the first one. Tommy descends into the rafters near-silently, settling into a shadowy space between beams and staring down into the large room below. There’s already a small group of people there, all wearing masks- they seem to be waiting for something, standing idly and watching the large doors on the side of the room.

A few moments pass with no real change, and Tommy is about to settle in for a long wait until, just barely audible with his enhanced senses, there’s a soft thud nearby. The rafters shift ever so slightly and all at once a shockwave of adrenaline rushes through the blonde.

Someone is up here with him.

Tommy yelps, though the voice modulator in his mask makes it sound more like a cough. He whips around, hand twitching toward one of the weapons on his belt before freezing.

Crouched across from him in the rafters is none other than Blade, one of the top heroes partnered with Rhapsody and Archangel.

The boar mask covering Blade’s face tilts with his head as he observes the boy, before raising a finger to his lips and nodding down at the room below them. Tommy follows his gaze and sees the doors to the room swinging open, revealing several masked men who push a large cart carrying multiple crates inside.

The new group stops in the middle of the room and begins to speak with the others, but Tommy is quickly sidetracked from eavesdropping on them when he sees that one of the crates is already cracked open. It’s holding cases on cases of what, when Tommy leans in for a closer look, seem to be little vials of a pale blue liquid. Ice runs through the blonde’s veins, and he exchanges a wide-eyed look with the hero across from him.

That’s Blue, a drug that’s been terrorizing the lower districts for years. Its effects make it highly addictive, filling the user with a sense of euphoria and almost childlike happiness- a happiness so strong, in fact, that they forget about everything outside of it. Those who die of using Blue might not just overdose- they could die of starvation, exposure, or any number of things that the drug prevents them from noticing.

Tommy’s gaze whips back down to the exchange that he’s quickly realizing is a large-scale drug deal. If he had to guess, he’d say that these pieces of shit are planning to distribute the Blue among citizens after this- and with such a large amount of the stuff, it’s almost guaranteed that the results will be catastrophic.

“We need to stop them,” Tommy whispers as quietly as he can while still making sure Blade is able to hear him. The hero nods sharply.

“Try not to break the cases,” Blade mutters, “We don’t need any Blue getting into our systems.”

Tommy nods and without further ado, Blade leaps down into battle. The blonde, however, is more hesitant- hanging behind in the rafters and watching for a place to jump in. Blade is a professional, after all, and despite how much he hates to admit it Tommy might be better off following his lead.

The criminals are clearly unprepared for Blade’s intervention. They begin to scramble about, some fumbling for weapons while others attempt to flee, inadvertently giving Blade the perfect chance to summon his powers amidst the chaos.

Blade flings out a hand and Tommy is treated to a first-hand reminder of how the hero’s powers work, as the limbs of the men who hadn’t fled begin to move against their will, turning them against each other as Blade puppeteers them with his blood manipulation. The remaining few unaffected by his power rush at Blade, only to be smoothly batted aside with the flat edge of his sword.

Despite their clearly impending defeat, the criminals continue to get back up and attempt to engage Blade in combat. There’s a resounding thud as the last of the ones under the effect of the blood manipulation passes out, the misdirection of blood flow finally overwhelming his system. Without the need to worry about them any longer Blade is free to redirect his power onto the men who remained uncontrolled, and Tommy is beginning to think he won’t have to interfere at all when an almost imperceptible shuffle of movement behind the cart of Blue catches his attention.

Somehow, one of the seemingly incompetent goons had gone unnoticed in the chaos and hid- and as Tommy stares, he turns in Blade’s direction and slowly starts to raise a gun. 

Adrenaline floods Tommy’s veins, his gaze zeroed in on the would-be assassin as he calls upon his borrowed powers. Before the gunman can so much as react the avian is materializing behind him, pulling out his retractable metal staff and cracking it across the back of his head with one smooth and forceful movement.

The man drops to the concrete floor like a bag of rocks, gun clattering across the floor as it falls from his limp hand. The noise prompts Blade to turn towards the two, his own battle already concluding as the last of his opponents collapses. He looks at the unconscious man on the ground then back to Tommy, seemingly bewildered.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice that guy. I must be losin’ my touch here,” Blade says, shoulders relaxing. “Good eye, Theseus.”

As he turns to face the other man, Tommy grimaces at the reminder of the stupid name the media gave him. “Call me Red, Theseus is a pretentious-ass name.”

Blade’s head tilts ever so slightly, and Tommy gets the distinct impression that the hero is frowning behind his mask. “I think it’s cool.”

“Of course you would,” Tommy scoffs, “With your flair for the dramatic.” 

“If you think I have a flair for the dramatic, I can’t imagine what you’d think of Rhapsody.”

“Rhapsody’s definitely worse- I know that without even having to meet the guy.” The blonde crosses his arms, barely resisting the urge to bring up how the prick had literally trampled him weeks prior. “Anyway, you’re welcome for the assist.”

“Thank you,” Blade concedes, “Even if I did have it mostly under control. Where- how did you even get to him so fast? Last I checked, you were still up in the rafters.”

“Powers.” Tommy stares at him, hoping to convey a deadpan expression even through his mask. “Seriously, man? What else would it be?”

“Heh- How am I supposed to know what your power is? Every time the media reports on you they’re saying it’s something different!” The hero throws his hands out, but despite his body language, he doesn’t seem genuinely irritated. Judging from Tommy’s seen about the guy, this looks a lot closer to the man having fun.

“Well, I guess that’s fair. I certainly wouldn’t tell my power to some bitch wearing a pig skull.”

“It’s a boar-” The hero’s retort is suddenly cut off, Tommy’s avian hearing allowing him to hear the indistinct crackling of a communicator in Blade’s ear. The muffled voice cuts off and Blade looks up, posture once again stiff and professional. “You should probably go before my superiors find out you’re here and have me arrest you.”

Well, Tommy doesn’t need to be told twice- he shouldn’t have been bantering with a hero in the first place. The blonde doesn’t hesitate to call on his borrowed power, transporting himself to the alleyway behind the apartment building he calls home.

Glancing up to the window far above him that he knows Tubbo is waiting behind, he turns his comms back on. “Apis, this is Red. Mission was successful, I'll be home in about ten seconds.”

Without waiting for a response, Tommy leaps onto the fire escape and clambers up the rickety metal until he reaches the window of his apartment. When he clambers into the bedroom Tubbo and Ranboo are already there, sitting side by side on the mattress with Tubbo’s laptop open between them.

“Hey, Toms. Patrol go well?” Ranboo asks as Tommy pulls random clothes from the dresser and gets changed in record speed.

“It was fine,” Tommy says, walking over to the mattress and unceremoniously flopping over his friend’s laps with a muffled ‘oof’.

“What exactly happened? We couldn’t hear what was going on since you had to turn off your comms to go inside.”

“Weird fuckers were trying to sell a shitload of Blue.” Tommy squirms around until he’s facing upright, looking at his friend’s half-amused, half-exasperated faces. “We got ‘em good, though.”

At that, Tubbo raises an eyebrow. “We?”

“Yeah, uh… don’t be mad...” Tommy trails off, getting two expectant looks in return. “I may or may not have worked with Blade while I was in there.”’

There’s a long, silent pause.

“You WHAT?!”

Chapter Text

To nobody’s surprise, Tommy ends up regretting his decision to not flee the warehouse the second he realized Blade was present. 

It’s been roughly two days since the incident, and in that time Tubbo has managed to tell him off five separate times for being so friendly with a hero. Hell, even Ranboo still seems a bit pissed, hardly letting Tommy leave his sight.

As for Tommy himself, well- he’s pissed that nobody congratulated him for how successful the mission had been, regardless of whether or not he’d gone against one of the only real rules to vigilantism. It’s whatever, though. Once he convinces Tubbo and Ranboo to forget about this whole thing, they’ll be able to see his badassery with  more open minds.

Luckily, Tommy had stumbled across a good-sounding recipe a while back, and with his newfound spending money he can justify getting the ingredients for it. They say the stomach is the way to someone’s heart- or something like that- after all.

So with a bag full of groceries and a heart full of determination, Tommy gets to work.

The dish he wants to make is called baked ziti, a cheesy pasta with sausage cooked into it. Though the name makes it seem like something fancy, the recipe had seemed fairly simple- at least, simple enough that Tommy probably won’t burn down the kitchen in his attempt to make it.

Surprisingly, the ordeal of cooking goes quite well- the pasta comes out of the oven with only a tiny bit of charring and Tubbo and Ranboo are suitably impressed when they arrive home a few minutes later. As it turns out, Tommy’s recipe was suited for more than three people so there are plenty of leftovers. As the blonde looks at the containers full of a week’s worth of dinners, an interesting idea comes to mind.

Maybe- maybe he could bring some to work and give it to Will.

Don’t get him wrong- as incredibly generous of a man as Tommy might be, he still makes sure not to take too much out of the fridge the next morning. Tubbo and Ranboo still need to eat, after all (and yeah, maybe Tommy does too) so Will will have to deal with getting just a single serving.

Admittedly, it might feed Tommy’s ego if the brunet ends up liking it. Just a little bit, though.

The start of his shift seems even longer and more boring than usual, Tommy’s antsy behavior as he glances at the front door every few minutes even beginning to concern his coworkers as the clock gets closer to noon. Jack frowns as he watches Tommy perk up at the sound of the door opening, only to wilt when he sees that it’s just another random customer. “What’s up with you today, man?”

“Huh?” Tommy shoots him a confused look, brows furrowing. “Nothing. I’m completely normal.”

“Welp. Okay, then,” Jack says, clearly not believing him but choosing not to push the topic. “Just don’t make the customers think you’ve gone mad or something, alright?”

Already distracted with watching the front windows again, Tommy hums in vague acknowledgement. He can hear Jack huff in exasperation somewhere behind him, but the sound is quickly erased from his mind when the chime at the shop’s door jingles, a familiar head of brown hair ducking past the bells to get inside.

“Hey, Tommy!” Will greets, a smile plastered across his freckled face despite his disheveled appearance. “Good to see you!”

“Wiiiiiill!” Tommy says, drawing out the word. “How’ve you been?”

“Good, good.” The brunet rummages through his pockets briefly before taking out a small wad of cash and sliding it across the counter. “The usual, if you please?”

Tommy grins, knowing full well that Will’s ‘usual’ is nothing more than a randomized concoction that he’ll get to make up as he brews it. “Coming right up.” 

He decides to go for something a bit different this time. Instead of his customary coffee-with-something-added, Tommy ends up serving a blueberry tea to the older man. Will, to his credit, doesn’t seem phased, sipping the drink with the same pleased expression as he usually does.

To be honest, Tommy’s beginning to think the man might not have functional tastebuds.

“Pretty good,” Will says, moving to find a table to have his drink at when he’s suddenly stopped by Tommy loudly clearing his throat.

“Uh, I actually… might have brought you something?”

“Oh?” Interest piqued, Will turns back to fully face the blonde. “What is it?”

“Wait just a second!” Tommy darts to the back room and pulls out the tupperware of ziti from where he’d stored it in the fridge before rushing back to the counter and holding it out to Will. “I tried out actually cooking something for once and it went quite well, so I thought you might like some.”

Will’s eyes widen and he tilts his head, pointing at himself dumbly. “For me?”

“Yeah!” Tommy says a little too quickly, nervous energy leaking into his voice as he waits for Will’s reaction. Relief blooms through him when the man smiles, warmth pooling into golden eyes.

“This is perfect! Work was so hectic this morning, I haven’t had the chance to eat yet- thanks, man!” The brunet gingerly takes the container in his hands, handling it almost like it’s a precious artifact. “You think Sam will be mad if I come behind the counter to use the microwave?”

Tommy frowns slightly, suddenly glad for his impulse decision to bring Will his leftovers. “…Were you planning to just have a tea for lunch?”

Will shrugs. “Slipped my mind, I guess.” He ducks behind the counter without waiting for a response and shoots a cheeky grin at Sam, who by chance had emerged from the back room at the exact moment that Will made his move. The creeper hybrid doesn’t put up any protest, merely giving Will an exasperated look as he walks past. Once the food is heated Will slips back around the counter, taking a seat on one of the stools so he can stay close to Tommy as he eats.

Predictably, Will loves the food. Tommy can’t tell if it’s actually that good or if Will is just trying to make him feel better about it, but hey- he’ll let the praise go to his head either way. Prime knows he ought to be good at something.

A few minutes pass. Will eats his lunch, quieting down as a few customers filter in and out of the store so Tommy can rattle off his usual customer service spiel to each of them. Eventually, the lunch rush settles down and Will is sliding the empty tupperware back to Tommy’s side of the counter, leaning his head on a hand as he looks at the young avian.

“Hey, why don’t you come over to my place for dinner?” Will asks. “It’s only fair since you gave me lunch.”

“What, today? Are you sure?” Tommy blinks, surprised at the abrupt invitation.

“Yeah, I’ll bring you over after your shift ends- I mean, if you want to.”

After thinking for a moment, Tommy nods. It’s not like he has any other plans. “Alright, sounds good. Are you sure you wanna wait around for me though? I work until like, five.”

“It’s supposed to be my day off work so I’ve got nothing else going on, as long as they don’t call me in,” Will says with a half-shrug, leaning back and stretching. Then he looks up at Tommy with a cheeky grin. “Besides, I can just pester you if I get too bored.”

The rest of the shift passes like any other day would for Tommy. He deals with customers, makes faces at Will, and brews up some of the city’s finest coffees. When five o’clock finally rolls around, Tommy’s wings are almost shivering from excitement under his shirt. He pushes the urge down- the last thing the blonde needs is for someone to ask why his back is vibrating. Will walks him out into the parking lot, leading him to a sleek black car. 

Tommy pauses. “You didn’t tell me you were fuckin’ loaded.” 

“I’m not loaded, my job just… pays very well?” Will says, sounding more unsure with every word. Tommy just snorts at him, sliding into the passenger seat of the car when the brunet unlocks the doors.

“Take me away, big man!” Tommy crows, drawing a laugh from Will as the older man turns on the car radio. Time flies as they make their way through the city streets, and it’s only as Will finishes belting out yet another musical song that Tommy realizes they’re entering one of the upper districts.

“Jesus fuck, you live in three?” Tommy asks, head swiveling to look incredulously at Will.

“Yeah? We should be at my house pretty soon,” Will says nonchalantly, turning into a neighborhood. It’s like something out of a movie- rows and rows of identical two-story houses in a suburb, white picket fences blocking off pretty little gardens. 

Great. All this time, and Tommy’s only just now finding out that Will’s a fucking tory. You really think you know a guy.

Eh, whatever. Tommy’s glad the brunet is living well, at least.

Finally, Will pulls into a driveway and hops out of the car. The home they’ve stopped at is much like the others, with the exception of a couple of potted plants decorating the porch.

When they go inside, the first thing Tommy sees is a living room, closely followed by a kitchen- the designer of this home was a fan of open concept, apparently. Both rooms are decently large, and the kitchen has fancy granite counters, and an island in the middle of it, as if the avian needed another reminder that these motherfuckers are rich.

“Welcome to my abode!” Will throws his arms out dramatically, spinning to face the younger boy. “Want the grand tour?”

“Sure,” Tommy agrees, allowing Will to start leading him through the house. It’s a pretty stereotypical suburban home, the type you’d see in a TV show. There’s an office, a room with a few bookshelves, and a bathroom that they pass by as Will takes him upstairs. The upper floor isn’t as open-concept as the ground floor was- it’s just a hallway with evenly spaced doors leading into different rooms.

Lined along the hallway are various photographs, most depicting what seem to be Will and other family members. There are a few in particular that catch Tommy’s eye- one of a woman with dark hair hugging a slightly-younger Will and another boy, and one of the same woman by herself, smiling at the camera. She’s pretty, with a rounded face and warm, honey-brown eyes.

“Who’s this?” Tommy tugs at Will’s sleeve, causing the brunet to stop and look at the picture he’s pointing to.

Will hesitates, a melancholy look shadowing his normally cheerful face. “That’s my mum.”

Oblivious to Will’s inner turmoil, Tommy continues his line of questioning. “Really? Can I meet her?”

“Uh, well… She’s-” The man pauses again, looking away- “She’s not exactly able to meet anyone right now. She’s been in a coma for a while now, since-” He cuts himself off with a quick shake of the head. “Sorry, sorry. I’m sure you’ll meet her someday, once she gets better.”

Tommy just nods, struck silent at the sudden dip in his friend’s mood. Will nods back at him, features melting into something softer before he turns away.

As Will begins to walk again, Tommy discreetly whips out his phone and makes a quick note about Will’s mother. It seems important, and well- Tommy doesn’t want to accidentally bring up such a sore subject again.

“Anyway,” Will proclaims as they come to a stop in front of a door at the end of the hall, “Here’s my room!” 

Tommy hesitantly follows him inside, looking around at the various band posters and notebooks scattered around the room. 

It’s… really fucking cool. He’s almost jealous.

He’s torn from his train of thought by Will’s voice suddenly calling out from a corner. “Got it!” The brunet turns to face him, holding up a guitar. “I wanted to show you my guitar. I’ve been writing a few songs lately, but I’m not sure how I should finish them…” He perches on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him. “Sit down, I want to hear what you think.”

Dutifully, Tommy sits as Will begins to strum the guitar. He runs through a few half-finished songs, his voice much more mellow than earlier when he had been singing along to the music in the car. 

They’re nice. A bit more expressive than Tommy would have expected from the man, and even though some of the lyrics are blatantly silly or just downright filler to be replaced later, Will’s voice pairs nicely with the themes written into the music. He claps loudly when Will stops singing, cheering and hollering until the man shoves him with a laugh.

“Alright, alright, thank you for the applause.” The brunet walks away and tucks the notebook back into a drawer. Tommy stands too, hovering in the middle of the room- he’s still not fully convinced that he’s not intruding.

“That was fuckin’ sick, man!” He compliments. Will goes to respond, but pauses at the distant sound of the front door opening and closing again. A couple of muffled voices reach Tommy’s ears.

“Oh, my family’s home,” Will says, then cups his hands around his mouth. “Guys, I have a friend over!” He yells, getting a call of confirmation from across the house, then beckons to Tommy. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to them.”

Will leads the blonde back into the living room area, where the entrance of the house is once again visible. Tommy blinks at the door, then looks around only to be startled as a voice, much closer now, calls out to them from a side room.

“Hey, Will. Who’s your friend?”

The owner of the voice, it turns out, is a man with chin-length, blonde hair that’s a similar length to Will’s- Tommy can see where the brunet got his inspiration from now. It’s a similar shade to Tommy’s, but where the younger one’s hair curls, this man’s hair is pin-straight. His eyes are an icy shade of blue, but the way his face crinkles around them as he smiles cancels out any cold they might have brought. As he walks forward to greet them, Tommy’s train of thought is suddenly halted by the sight of something moving on the man’s back.

They’re wings.

The man’s feathers are pitch-black like Tommy’s, but that’s where the similarities end. His wings are massive, primaries nearly brushing against the floor when they’re folded behind his back, and the feathers are gleaming and well taken care of.

“This is Phil!” Will exclaims, then leans in slightly as his voice drops to a dramatic stage whisper. “He’s my dad.”  

“Hello,” Phil greets, perfectly pleasant despite Tommy’s sudden intrusion into his home, “Nice to meet you. You must be Tommy?”

Tommy nods, reaching out to shake Phil’s hand. Even though he’s prepared for it, the brush of Phil’s powers against his own when they touch almost sends Tommy running for the hills.

Something deep inside him tells him that whatever Phil’s power is, it’s terrifying. 

He forces a grin- he’s not one to judge people for having big and scary powers, after all. That would make him a hypocrite, especially since he’d already experienced the same sort of feeling the first time he made contact with Will.

“That I am. It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Tommy says, zero hint of his internal unease showing on his face.

“Please, call me Phil. Sir makes me sound old.” Phil laughs, swatting lightly at Will when he interjects with a ‘But you are old-’ before continuing. “I’ve heard a lot about you, mate.”

“Good things, I hope?”

Phil opens his mouth to respond, but pauses when someone else enters the room.

“Eh, I’d say you’ve got mixed reviews,” The newcomer says, making a ‘so-so’ gesture with his hand before offering it out to Tommy. “I’m Techno, Will’s brother.”

Techno is about the same height as Will, but significantly more muscular. Light pink hair cascades over his shoulders. It’s the same shade as Blade’s hair, Tommy notes, but Blade usually wears his in a tight braid. Small tusks poke out from Techno’s bottom lip and his pointed ears flick slightly, marking him as a piglin hybrid.

Tommy quickly shakes his hand, suppressing the shudder that wants to run through his body at yet another brush with vast power. It’s not as loud as Phil’s was, so the young blonde is quick to shake off the feeling as he turns to glare at Will. “Hey! You been talkin’ shit about me, man?”

“No…” Will says, mustering up his most innocent look. It doesn’t fool anyone.

“Anyway! I invited Tommy here over for dinner, if that’s alright?” Will changes the subject, clapping a hand to Tommy’s shoulder and jostling him slightly. “He brought me lunch today, so I thought I’d return the favor.”

“Oh?” Phil’s eyebrows raise slightly as he turns to look at Tommy, his expression friendly and kind. “Well, thanks for feeding Will- he’s a bit of a mess. You’re fully welcome to stay for dinner, as long as it’s alright with your parents.”

Tommy blinks. “My, uh… parents. Yeah… I actually kinda live on my own?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, mate, I shouldn’t have assumed. You just look so young, so I thought-” Phil clears his throat, his wings puffing up in embarrassment- Tommy tears his eyes away from them, he will not chirp at his friend’s dad who he just met- “Ah, well, that’s my fault.”

“Eh, fair enough,” Tommy shrugs. “Got emancipated a while back, it’s- y’know.” He waves a hand around, expertly leaving out the fact that he didn’t so much get emancipated from the foster system as ran away from it. Turning to look at Techno, he raises an eyebrow at the man who’s now rummaging through the kitchen cabinets with a sense of purpose. “What’re you doing?”

“Cooking,” Techno answers shortly, pulling out a pan before turning towards the fridge. “You’re not allergic to chicken, are you?”

“No, chicken’s fine.” Tommy slides into one of the seats at the kitchen table and props his head up on a hand, leaning forward interestedly. “You usually cook around here?”

“Yup. I like to do it, and gods know Will can’t be trusted in the kitchen.” He nudges the man in question out of the way, giving him a pointed look as he splutters in offense.

Amidst the brothers’ bickering, Phil turns to Tommy. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” The younger avian says, “If that’s alright.” 

Tommy isn’t really… sure how to deal with the hospitality, to tell the truth. He’s essentially just randomly barged into these people’s house, and they’re still treating him nicely. Like he’s not an intruder, but rather a welcomed guest.

Guilt lodges deep in his chest.

Phil smiles. “Of course, mate. I’ll get you some coke, okay?” He walks away when Tommy nods in confirmation, his onyx-black wings gleaming under the kitchen lights. A garbled noise tries to rise up in Tommy’s throat again but he swallows it down, pressing his own small, dusty wings tightly against his back to ensure they remain hidden. 

He’s not going to be weird. He won’t ruin this for himself, he won’t. He can get over his weird bird instincts.

The clack of a glass being placed on the table in front of him interrupts Tommy’s spiraling train of thought. “Thanks,” he says, pulling the glass towards him and taking a sip as a distraction. The soda is cool and crisp, perfectly drawing the blonde back to the present as warm chatter surrounds him.

After what seems like no time at all the chicken is being taken out of the oven and served onto plates, the whole family taking their places around the table. Will makes sure to sit right next to Tommy, nudging him with an elbow to give him a friendly little grin as he does.

“So, what do you think?” Will asks as he tucks into his meal. Tommy’s not sure if he’s asking about the food, the house, or the whole family in general, but either way one answer comes to mind.

“It’s good!” He nods enthusiastically. “My compliments to the chef.”

“Glad ya like it,” Techno drawls from across the table. “Decided to try something different today.”

Phil coughs pointedly. “You mean, you decided not to make potato stew for the fourth day in a row?”

“Hey- potatoes are good, Phil.”

“Not every day, they’re not!”

Tommy snickers as he watches the two go back and forth, chewing on his food before turning to Will. “Are you guys always like this?”

“What, chaotic?” The brunet glances at Techno, who’s now deep into a long explanation of the various benefits of potatoes, before looking back at Tommy. “Pretty much. Gotta love ‘em, though.” 

Sounds nice, Tommy thinks. The joking argument reminds him a bit of himself and his roommates- though with Tubbo and Ranboo, it’s less of a ‘defined family bond’ and more of a ‘best friends for life and also I’d die for you’ type of thing.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur of friendly banter and warmth, and before Tommy knows it Will is gathering up the empty dishes and taking them to the sink.

“I can help,” Tommy says as he peers anxiously at the older man. He doesn’t want to be a freeloader, after all.

“No no, you’re the guest,” Will dismisses him easily, rinsing off the dishes before putting them into the dishwasher. “Besides, it only takes a minute or so.”

Tommy tries to insist, but when he turns back to the table he finds that everything has been cleared off already. Will pats him on the shoulder. “Seriously, it’s fine. Phil would kill me if I made you do my chores, anyway.”

Phil laughs from across the room, but doesn’t deny it. “Are you staying for a while longer, Tommy? We could do a board game or a movie if you want to hang out for a bit.”

“Ah…” Tommy’s brows furrow and he glances at the time on his phone. “No, I’d better get going soon.”

“Alright,” The older avian acknowledges, his wings fluttering out briefly. Tommy’s eyes catch on to the movement and before he can think to suppress it, a tiny, choked-off chirp tumbles out of his mouth.

He freezes, eyes blown wide as he looks at the small family, who have all stopped in their tracks. Fuck, they’re gonna be mad. Tommy made it weird. He made it weird and he ruined the entire evening.

Phil stares at him, surprised look melting into something sympathetic, and-

“Hey, has anyone told you that your wings look kinda like Archangel’s?” Tommy blurts, hoping the comparison to one of the Powered Protection Agency’s top heroes will distract Phil from his embarrassing slip-up.

“Wha- Oh, yeah, I get that a lot. I don’t see it myself, but…” Phil startles at the sudden turn of questioning, trailing off awkwardly. He shakes his head quickly, feathers smoothing out as a calmer expression takes root. “Anyway, do you need a ride home?”

Tommy shakes his head. “I’m havin’ a friend pick me up.” He brandishes his phone, quickly shooting a text to Ranboo to ‘Get the fuck here right now holy shit I just made everything awkward’ along with his current location before stepping towards the front door. “Uh, thanks for having me!”

“Bye, Tommy! Be safe!” Will says, squeezing the younger boy in a quick hug before letting him leave. A short chorus of goodbyes come from behind him from Phil and Techno, and Tommy steps off the front steps and onto the sidewalk. He turns, waving briefly to the family as they watch him from the porch before he speed walks down the darkened street, turning a corner to find Ranboo already waiting for him underneath a streetlight. The ender hybrid makes a sound of relief when he sees Tommy approaching.

“I'm glad I got the right place,” Ranboo says, offering out an arm as purple particles swirl around him. “Shall we?”

With a nod, Tommy latches on. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

A rock clatters against pavement, bouncing from where it had been tossed against a wall.

Ranboo watches dully from where he sits near the edge of the rooftop, idly fiddling with a police scanner while Tommy continues to toss pebbles against the wall of the roof’s access room. There hasn’t been much crime on this particular night, something that’s almost never seen in Manberg.

“I’m bored,” Tommy whines as he gives up on his little game, dropping the pebble he’d been holding and shuffling over to Ranboo’s side. “Where’ve all the wronguns gone?”

The ender hybrid frowns behind his mask as he looks up, shoving the scanner back into his pocket. “I don’t know, it’s been awfully quiet today.” 

“I know crime is bad ‘n shit, but man, what I wouldn’t do for something to happen right about now,” Tommy huffs, sitting down and resting his head on crossed arms.

Ranboo hums. “No, I feel you.” Then he presses a hand to his ear, speaking into his mouthpiece. “You got anything for us?”

There’s a shuffling noise for a moment as Tubbo scans through his camera feeds back in the apartment. “Oh, actually… Yeah, it looks like the Badlands crew are robbing a bank up in Fourth,” his voice crackles over the earpiece nestled in Tommy’s ear.

The blonde perks up at the mention of the villain group, sitting up straight in interest. “Finally, something to do.”

“Can you send over the location, Apis?” Ranboo asks, glancing at Tommy with a fondly exasperated look as the younger boy hops around in a little victory dance.

“Sending it now,” Tubbo says, a bit of feedback peaking his mic as he stifles a cough. Tommy winces.

“You alright, big man?” The avian says while he makes sure all of his gear is in order. Tubbo just hums in affirmation, and there’s a small pinging noise from Tommy and Ranboo’s phones. The two take a cursory glance at the location of the bank before heading off, Ranboo’s teleportation abilities easily getting them within a block of the robbery currently taking place. From there it’s easy to find the bank, what with the telltale sound of alarms ringing from within the building and several screaming civilians.

Tommy turns off his microphone, leaving Tubbo unmuted just in case, and follows Ranboo to a neighboring rooftop so the two can survey the scene. There’s a soft buzzing noise as a bee flies past his head, and as he looks closer he can see the tiny mechanical parts making up its body- one of Tubbo’s drones. They’re a relatively new one of the goat hybrid’s inventions, mainly used for surveillance and in this case, keeping an eye on his friends while they’re in the field. 

The drones can’t be used very often, since they break easily and run out of battery even quicker, but just this once they were in working order and ready on time for a patrol. With this in mind, Tommy is exceedingly careful as he allows the mechanical bee to land on his finger and leans forward to peer over the edge of the building.

Lights flash from inside the shattered front windows of the bank, the internal alarms blaring into the night. A few civilians are sat outside, huddled on the sidewalk- most likely either customers or staff, all seemingly unharmed. Standing in front of the bank is an all-too-familiar group.

Halo, a well-known villain and the unofficial leader of the group known as the Badlands, seems to be taking charge of the situation, arms gesturing as he speaks to both his companions and the cowering civilians grouped along the edges of the scene. He’s far taller than any of his companions, cutting an imposing figure into the night with most of his features obscured by a cloak and other darkly-colored attire. Long, sharp horns and a spaded tail stand out in his appearance, marking him as one of the few known demon hybrids in existence. Past the darkness that coalesces under the man’s hood- a product of his power, shadow manipulation- Tommy can just make out the glint of two pure-white eyes. Near Halo are two more members of the Badlands, shifting on their feet as they survey their surroundings.

Golem, true to his name, is a rare diamond-golem hybrid, his heritage made clear by diamond-studded patches of skin. His face is covered by a silly-looking rectangular mask that’s been decorated with a cartoonish face sticking its tongue out. Golem’s power works alongside his hybrid nature, allowing him to shield himself from injury by hardening his skin. He can also encase his limbs in the crystals sprouting from his skin, turning them into bludgeoning weapons, but thus far has only been known to use the ability as a last resort.

Captain is a sheep hybrid, as evidenced by her horns and the wooly white curls sprouting from her head. She wears a costume reminiscent of a pirate’s outfit, though it’s modified to be better suited to powered combat- oddly contrasting the rest of her outfit, her face is covered by a plain white mask. Her power lies in creating illusions, a skill that’s greatly helpful when the Badlands need a diversion.

There are two other members of the villain group- Felis and Velour- but they’re nowhere to be seen.

Tommy leans in- the villains aren’t exactly being loud, but thanks to his enhanced hearing they’re just audible enough for him to understand. “Stay where you are,” Halo says, voice deceptively soothing as he speaks to the bank’s staff members who sit huddled by a wall, “We don’t want to hurt you, we just need to grab something from your vaults.”

“But sir,” one particularly brave- or perhaps stupid- man protests, sitting up to look at Halo, “We don’t have anything of interest!”

“You have plenty,” Halo replies calmly, ignoring the man’s plea. “So if you would, please keep out of the way so we can leave you to your peace.”

The man’s jaw shuts with a click, and he slumps back against the wall with a pale face. There’s an anxious, confused murmur from his colleagues, but no others speak up.

Tommy glances over at Ranboo. He can’t see the other boy’s face, not with the mask he wears as Ender covering it, but he can see when Ranboo gives him a sharp nod- intervene. The blonde leaps from the rooftop onto the pavement below, shock-absorbing shoes and fluttering wings preventing him from injury. A moment later there’s a burst of purple as Ranboo appears just a step behind him. 

“They haven’t noticed us yet. How should we-”

“Stop! You’ve violated the law!” Tommy shouts. Ranboo audibly sighs from beside him as the group of villains’ heads snap up at the sound.

“Ender, Red!” Halo greets, voice full of cheer. “How nice of you to join us!”

Tommy has to give some kudos to the guy for being one of the only people outside of his own team to actually respect his vigilante name instead of just calling him ‘Theseus’- but that’s beside the point. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” He blurts out, hand resting on his belt where the retractable staff he uses as his main weapon is stored.

“Language,” Halo scolds, eyes narrowing. “We’re just fetching something, no need to interfere.”

There’s a buzz in Tommy’s ear as the bee drone from earlier swoops past, the reminder of Tubbo’s watchful presence emboldening the blonde. “Cut the shit,” He snaps, yanking the staff from his belt and letting it extend into a fully-formed weapon. Halo, Golem, and Captain drop into similarly fight-ready poses, and Tommy glances over at Ranboo. He flicks his head in a quick nod towards Captain- you deal with her, I’ll take the others- and Ranboo nods back, the duo instantly jumping into action.

Tommy doesn’t bother looking for powers to steal- Tubbo’s power already resides safely in his veins in case of emergency, and even then he rarely needs to use enhancements against this particular group. Besides, using a new power is a bit of a learning curve, something the avian hardly has time for in the midst of battle.

(He also, as scared of them as he isn't, doesn't want to go out of his way to touch one of them so he can actually get to their powers.)

Halo and Golem are a formidable team even without the presence of the rest of the Badlands, the two in synchronized motion as they ready their attacks. Halo is the first to leap forward, whipping out his sword in a lightning-quick movement and slashing at Tommy. The avian leaps away from the blade, although it didn’t really seem like it would have done more than give him a little scrape- it hardly ever does. That’s one thing that’s especially annoying about Halo- he’s always holding back.

Or maybe, Tommy begrudgingly admits to himself, the villain just holds a higher regard for vigilantes. He’s seen footage of the fights between the Badlands villains and heroes who are signed with the PPA, and they’re not pretty. But despite the violence he knows Halo and the others are capable of, Tommy can’t find himself being too mad at the guy. The whole group usually tries to minimize the amount of civilians endangered by their crimes. It’s noticeable to anyone who pays enough attention, even if the Powered Protection Agency would have you believe otherwise.

Honestly, he kind of sympathizes with them. It seems like they just want to fight a corrupt system, for the most part. But- the blonde leaps back into action, swinging his baton at Golem’s head and just barely missing- no vigilante worth his salt would just let a bank robbery happen!

There’s a brief lapse in Golem’s movements as he winces, probably not expecting Tommy’s sudden switch in targets, and it only serves to give the blonde enough time to kick his momentum back into his legs, dropping his weight so he can spring up and kick Golem in the face. The man slams into the ground with an audible thud, causing several of his teammates to look over in alarm.

“Golem!” Halo yelps in alarm, popping up between Tommy and the other villain. Tommy barely manages to parry the demon’s sword, batting it away with the metal staff he wields before darting out of reach. Golem is already getting back up, seemingly unscathed aside from a dusty boot print in the center of his mask.

Tommy’s wings flap as he dodges a series of blows- of course, they’re not big enough for him to take flight, but the motion boosts him along enough to keep up with the speed of his opponents. He glances over at Ranboo, who seems to be keeping up and even getting the better of Captain as the two brawl- perks of being an experienced vigilante, Tommy supposes. After all, it was Ranboo (and Tubbo) who taught the blonde most of his moves.

…Maybe he should‘ve had Ranboo be the one to take on Golem and Halo. The two are certainly giving Tommy a run for his money- the blonde yelps as he dodges yet another swipe of Halo’s blade, only to run directly into Golem’s fist. He staggers back, barely managing to dodge another punch and tripping up Halo in the process when the overly-tall demon’s legs get in his way. Tommy leaps forward, driving back the villain duo with his baton, and unleashes his greatest weapon yet- distracting his opponents with his loud mouth.

“What are you guys doing here, anyway?! Don’t you have, like, your own top-secret source of income already?”

Halo’s face is shrouded in darkness, but Tommy gets the distinct impression that the man is grinning. “Who said we’re here for money?”

“It’s a fuckin’ bank, what else is there?!” 

At this, Golem cuts into the conversation. “Dude, have you never been to a bank before? They store all kinds of shit.” Despite his casual tone, he’s still throwing punches and kicks at Tommy, forcing the avian to stay on his toes as he tries to keep track of where both villains are. Somewhere behind the fight there’s a sudden uptick in noise from the gathered civilians, and Tommy whips around to see the two missing members of the Badlands emerge from the bank.

“We got the drive!” Felis shouts, cat ears flicking as he brandishes a small thumb drive in his hand. Velour is right behind him, holding his weapon in one hand as he guards his partner.

“Well, would you look at that! What perfect timing!” Halo says with a gleeful clap of his hands, pulling away from the fight so suddenly that Tommy is left stumbling onto his ass.

“What took you guys so long?” Golem grumbles as Halo pulls him towards the other villains, Captain similarly abandoning her own fight with Ranboo as the Badlands gather into a tight group.

“Bye-bye, you two!” Halo shouts, and before Tommy or Ranboo can say a word in response a deep darkness has already swallowed the group of villains whole, unreachable as Halo’s shadows carry them all the way back to wherever their base is.

Grumbling, Tommy takes Ranboo’s hand and allows the ender hybrid to pull him to his feet as they watch the Badlands flee. “Well, that could’ve gone better,” Ranboo remarks, tail flicking behind him in agitation. Tommy hums in agreement, taking in the scene around them. The civilians are still gathered in small groups, murmuring amongst themselves. A few of them watch the vigilante duo warily, not making the move to approach.

“Do you think we should stay with these guys until the cops arrive, or-” Tommy’s cut off when Tubbo abruptly breaks his silence, the blonde turning his full attention to the noise coming from his earpiece.

“Get-” Tubbo’s voice rings through his ears, communicators crackling as they suddenly reconnect and the brunet stifles a cough- “Get out, leave, heroes are on their way now and I doubt they’ll be as forgiving as Blade.” Tommy and Ranboo snap to attention, glancing at the spot where the villains had disappeared before coming to the unanimous decision to obey their friend. The Badlands are hardly the worst villains out there- and even if they were, there’s no way to get to them now. Better to leave before the so-called professionals arrive and assume the attack on the bank was Tommy and Ranboo’s doing.

Tommy frowns at the destruction surrounding him as he takes Ranboo’s arm. Hopefully the heroes will at least aid in the rebuilding process, or you know… do something to help. The bank has its fourth-district status going for it, though- if it were anywhere lower than district six, rebuilding would probably take at least a couple years. Life is funny like that when the mayor doesn’t give a shit about anyone who isn’t rich.

Particles surround him as emergency vehicles begin to flood the area, and Tommy has the pleasure of seeing a red-faced cop pointing a finger at him before the world fades out while Ranboo teleports them home. They reappear with a pop on the rickety fire escape of their building, and the two stumble for a moment on the creaky metal before stabilizing. 

“Holy shit man, we could’ve just landed in the alley,” Tommy says, clutching onto Ranboo’s arms for dear life as he gets used to the unstable ground beneath his feet.

“Come on, you know I can’t control the exact spot where I land,” Ranboo protests, careful as he guides the blonde towards the open window of their apartment, “Let’s just get inside before this thing collapses on us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tommy climbs through the window first, turning to help Ranboo pull his long limbs through. He turns, glancing around the bedroom. “Tubbo, we’re home!”

“Over here!” A voice calls from the living room, and the two leave the bedroom to see Tubbo on the couch with his laptop, the control panel for his bee drones lighting up his screen. As soon as he sees them Tubbo is getting up, walking over to the pair. “Any injuries?”

Ranboo shakes his head, and Tommy goes to shake his head as well only to be halted by Tubbo giving him a pointed look. “I saw that punch you took, let me check it before you go change.”

Tommy groans, but allows Tubbo to pull off his mask and take his face in his hands, gently tilting his head to get a better angle of the bruise blossoming along his jaw. “Tubbo, it’s fine.”

Tubbo hums discontentedly but lets him go, stepping back. “Well, it doesn’t look too horrible. We still have leftover concealer for when you go to work tomorrow.”

Nodding, Tommy takes his leave, headed towards the bedroom to change out of his vigilante outfit. He pauses and glances back with a worried frown at the sound of coughing from behind him, but at the sight of Ranboo patting Tubbo on the back he continues walking. The ender hybrid can handle it for now, but all the coughing and sneezing Tubbo’s been doing today doesn’t bode well for the already-dwindling supplies in their medicine cabinet.

He’ll probably end up being the one to buy more, because even though Ranboo and Tubbo will both protest, Tommy owes them- they’ve been the ones covering the trio’s necessities ever since the blonde’s revival, after all. At least Tommy can do his share now that he has a job, and he fully intends on doing so no matter how much his friends insist that he doesn’t have to.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tommy finishes changing out of his costume and slips on one of Ranboo’s shirts. It’s not like the ender hybrid will mind, not when the three friends have been in the habit of randomly borrowing each other’s clothes for years at this point. Plus, the extra fabric of the oversized shirt stops it from pressing against Tommy’s wings too much.

The feathers are particularly bedraggled, having not been preened recently, and Tommy hunches forward slightly in discomfort as he makes his way back into the living room and onto the couch. It takes Tubbo and Ranboo all of two seconds to notice there’s something wrong.

“You alright?” Ranboo asks, pausing in the doorway. Tommy grumbles for a moment before he responds.

“I’m fine, just tired.”

“Bullshit,” Tubbo says, walking over to where Tommy is sitting. “Something’s up with you, you look super uncomfortable.”

“‘S just my wings,” the blonde mumbles, looking away. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Would preening them help?”

Tommy’s lack of reply serves as answer enough, and Tubbo nods decisively. “C’mon, me and Ranboo will help you out.” He pulls Tommy off the couch and into the bedroom, motioning for the boy to let his wings out. After a moment’s hesitation Tommy complies, tugging the loose shirt off and flopping onto his stomach on the mattress. If he really was uncomfortable with being preened, he could tell his friends and they would back off in an instant- but his wings really are bothering him, and there’s been a pinfeather that he can’t reach by himself jabbing him in the middle of his back for days now.

Tubbo and Ranboo sit down on either side of the blonde, reaching out and tapping his shoulder as warning before they start. Almost immediately Tommy melts into a relaxed puddle, relief coursing through him as his feathers are straightened, dust and debris being discarded from between them. The two work slowly and methodically, Tubbo preening Tommy’s left wing while Ranboo does the right. It’s only when he hears a fond chuckle from above him that Tommy realizes he’s been letting out quiet chirps and coos, making him tense up in embarrassment.

“Aw, you’re okay,” Ranboo reassures, already knowing exactly what Tommy thinks of his more bird-like impulses. “Chirping is normal, all avians do it.”

“Don’t stifle your instincts, it’s not good for you,” Tubbo adds, patting Tommy’s shoulder briefly before returning to his wing.

They’re right, Tommy knows, but it doesn’t stop him from frowning into the pillow as he tries to relax. As if sensing his lingering distress, Ranboo begins to gently remove Tommy’s pinfeathers, and the avian sighs as the tension leaves his body once more. At some point Tubbo’s hands begin to slow, and he’s about 3/4ths of the way through Tommy’s left wing before he pulls back, stifling a yawn.

“Boo, can you finish this wing for me? I’m tired as shit all of a sudden.”

Ranboo hums, easily agreeing. “I wouldn’t dare to leave it unfinished.”

Tommy only stirs lightly when Tubbo flops down beside him, eyes half-lidded as he blinks at the goat hybrid now lying there. Tubbo laughs softly.

“You’re lost in the sauce, huh?”

There’s no response from Tommy, the blonde only closing his eyes and turning his head away as he begins to fall asleep. The last thing he registers is Ranboo’s hands carefully folding his wings back into place, neatly preened, before the tall boy lies down as well, the three of them barely fitting onto the bed.

The darkness Tommy drifts off into is warm tonight, and he knows there will be no visions of Limbo awaiting him.

Chapter Text

“I’m fine, guys, really.”

Hands on his hips, Tommy gives Tubbo an unimpressed stare. The goat hybrid is laying on the couch, bundled in every one of the ratty, thin blankets in their apartment, face flushed with fever. Somehow he still has the audacity to insist that he’s fine.  

Ranboo looks equally unconvinced. “Dude, you’re burning up.”

“I’ve had worse,” Tubbo protests. When the other two boys look no more convinced than before, he switches tactics. “You guys have had worse! You’re being hypocrites right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all idiots with no self preservation. That’s why we gotta look out for each other,” Tommy says, leaving no room for argument. It’s true, after all. “Seriously, have you even taken any meds yet?”

Tubbo just stares at him blankly, pulling an exasperated sigh from the blonde. “Ranboo, can you go get our kit? The one for colds and shit.”

The ender hybrid is quick to comply, leaving the room with his tail flicking in agitation behind him. While Tubbo is probably fine- as far as Tommy can tell, it’s just a bad cold that has the goat hybrid stuck in bed- the brunet has always been more sensitive to illness than Tommy or Ranboo. Probably something to do with the fact that he had grown up in a house where, no matter how toxic the people within it were, he wasn’t often exposed to actual disease.

It was quite the adjustment, to say the least, when the trio had first taken to living on the streets of Manberg. A bit of a shock to the immune system, if you will- for all three of them.

Still. Tubbo’s fine, just not used to being sick. That doesn’t mean Tommy won’t worry about him, though. 

“Ranboo, did you fall in the fuckin’ toilet or something? What’s taking so long?” The blonde calls, little black wings puffed up in mild annoyance as he cranes his neck to try and see past the doorway of the bedroom. There’s a clatter, presumably Ranboo fumbling with the medicine cabinet, before the taller boy returns with a sheepish look on his face.

“Uh, I think we’re out.”

“Out of what?”

“Everything?” Ranboo holds up a very empty bottle of generic-brand cold medicine.

Tommy’s shoulders slump. “Fuck’s sake.”

“So does this mean I’m off the hook?” Tubbo chimes in with a hopeful look, only to immediately shrink back when both his friends turn narrowed eyes on him.

“Nope,” Tommy gets to his feet, walking over to the dresser, “I’m going to get some more.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I’ll come with you if you want.” Ranboo frowns, undoubtedly worried at the prospect of Tommy in civilian form walking through the city at night. The blonde just shakes his head, pulling out a shirt that he deems good enough to hide his wings before grabbing his keys and a small wad of cash from the top drawer.

“It’s not that late, I’ll be alright. Besides, someone needs to stay here with Tubbo.”

Ranboo hums in agreement, ignoring Tubbo’s protests from beside him. “Well, just be careful.”

“You know I always am.” Tommy grabs his phone and walks away, down the steps of the apartment building until he reaches the pavement below. Flickering streetlights line his way, burnt-out bulbs casting shadows occasionally as he travels. The directions on his phone tell him of several nearby convenience stores, but as he dutifully follows them all the avian finds is one closed shop after another.

“Aren’t these fuckers supposed to be open 24/7?” He mumbles to himself, glaring at his phone as the list of stores within walking distance grows ever shorter. Tommy doesn’t dare venture down to district eight at this time of night, and with every store on this side of district seven seemingly closed, he has no choice but to continue on to district six and hope for better luck there.

If none of the shops in district six are open, well… Tubbo will just have to tough it out.

The blonde stops walking for a moment, absorbed in his phone as he looks through the various locations on his map to find the closest one. In his distraction, Tommy fails to notice the thud of a pair of feet landing on the pavement behind him.

“You alright, mate?”

“Ah!” Tommy squeaks in surprise, whirling around to face the owner of the sudden voice. “You scared the shit out of me, you-” He suddenly cuts himself off, face paling as he realizes just who he’s talking to.

“Sorry for the scare,” Archangel, one of the very best heroes in the PPA, says, “Just got a bit worried by seeing a kid walking around the city so late. Is there anyone with you?” He’s standing there nonchalantly like he’s not one of the top fucking heroes, who for some unknown reason is stood approximately five feet away from some random nobody in one of the lower-middle districts.

Of course, it’s just Tommy’s luck that out of all the people to encounter Archangel during one of the hero’s rarer night shifts, it would be him.

“First of all, I’m not a kid,” Tommy starts, much more careful with his words now that he knows just who he’s talking to, “And I don’t need help or anything. I’m just headed to the convenience store.”

(According to Tubbo, Tommy used to be a bit of a diehard Archangel fan before he died. He doesn’t find quite as much interest in him- or any other hero- anymore, but he still wears the old merch tee from ‘before’ on some occasions. Maybe the old Tommy would be more eager to talk to Archangel, but as it is now, he’d rather just get the hero off his back.)

Archangel pauses, tilting his head in a rather birdlike manner. “I’ll escort you, just to make sure you’re safe. If that’s alright with you, of course.” 

His face is hidden by the dark veil that hangs from the brim of his (rather stupid-looking, in Tommy’s opinion) hat- one that matches with his partner, Lady Death, though the woman hasn’t been seen in months now. It’s a shame, because her hat was notably cooler, being a simple deep black to match with the veil rather than the green-and-white striped monstrosity that Archangel wears. As for his veil, it’s a mystery how Archangel even manages to see through it, much less how he keeps it from flying up and revealing his face when he’s in action. Tubbo’s theory is that there are small weights installed along the bottom edge of the fabric.

Regardless, the veil is a significant barrier to Tommy’s goal of trying to understand just what the hell Archangel wants from him. He finds it sort of hard to believe that the hero truly has nothing better to do than escorting him to a convenience store, but he can’t exactly just say no. The last thing the blonde needs is to draw suspicion to himself. If Archangel were to somehow figure out Tommy’s true identity- well. He shudders to even think of the results.

“Whatever,” Tommy ends up muttering, turning his back to the hero to continue his shuffle towards his destination of the only open convenience store on this side of Manberg. The walk is short, silent, and rather awkward, with Tommy attempting to keep an eye on Archangel from his peripheral vision while the hero whistles a merry little tune. The man is annoyingly chipper despite how late at night it is, and the way he keeps shuffling his wings- massive, well-preened, black feathers shining softly under the streetlights- doesn’t make Tommy feel any better.

He presses his own well-hidden wings more tightly to his back and walks a little faster.

When they finally arrive at the shop, the ‘Open’ sign in the window a shining godsend in Tommy’s eyes, the boy is quick to dart inside. Archangel ducks into the store after him, head turning in a curious manner that makes Tommy think the man’s never stepped foot in a convenience store before. Surprisingly, instead of leaving or just hovering by the doors, Archangel separates from Tommy to venture into the aisles, dark green robes swishing as he looks through the stock.

Tommy shrugs to himself. Anything to escape the awkwardness of the situation. A startling amount of the shelves in the store contain various medicines, and the avian is quick to navigate towards the section with the cheap, generic-brand stuff. The relief brought by getting away from Archangel is quickly overpowered by dread, though, when Tommy reaches for a bottle and finds a marked-up price label staring back at him.

Fuck.

Heart sinking, he quickly puts the medicine back and draws out a different one, only to be met with the same result. A bunch of nonsensical price increases, thanks to none other than the shitty Manberg economy. Really, he should’ve expected it, what with the inflation going on with everything else, but…

What a fucking ripoff, the avian thinks as he resigns himself to getting just one bottle of fever reducer and a tiny, dinged up box of over-the-counter painkillers. It would’ve been nice if the generic products had remained unaffected by the rises in price, but that’s just wishful thinking, Tommy supposes.

With a sigh, he picks up the two items and trudges to the counter, pausing when he sees that Archangel is ahead of him checking out some items of his own. The hero turns at the sound of Tommy’s footsteps. “You done shopping, mate?” Tommy nods and Archangel’s head tips down, apparently looking at the items the blonde had chosen. He reaches out a hand, pausing when Tommy draws away from him slightly. “Here- let me pay for those, it’s the least I can do for bothering you on your errand.”

“Um…” Tommy frowns, giving his medicines an unsure look. Why would Archangel pay for his stuff? He doesn’t exactly want to owe a debt to a hero- then again, Archangel doesn’t have any reason to want something from him. He doesn’t know about Tommy’s alter ego. The thought that Archangel could just take the medicines and leave after paying also crosses his mind, but… again, there’s really no reason for the hero to do that. It wouldn’t even do any harm, being that Tommy hasn’t actually bought them yet.

“I mean- are you sure?” He eventually asks, brows furrowed as he looks back up at Archangel. 

The hero just laughs it off. “Really, I insist.”

Shrugging to himself, Tommy drops the two packages into the man’s outstretched hand. Archangel turns back to the cashier, who seems entirely unaware that a practical celebrity is standing right in front of her, and quickly checks out, placing a light plastic bag in Tommy’s hand once the transaction is over.

“Thanks,” Tommy says, hesitant as he steps back out into the darkened streets of Manberg. “Uh, I’ll just… go now.” He begins to walk away, glad to be rid of the interaction, when a hand lands on his shoulder and stops him mid-step.

“Ah, hold on!” Archangel blurts, pulling his hand back when he notices how stiff Tommy’s shoulders are. “It’s really not safe for you to be alone so late at night. I’ll walk you back home. Or…” He looks up at the sky, humming in brief contemplation. “I could fly you there?”

Tommy’s protests die in his throat as he’s gripped by sudden intrigue. “…Fly?”

“Well, sure!” Archangel says, a smile evident in his voice as he turns back to Tommy. “My sons don’t like it much, but maybe you will- at the very least it’ll be a lot faster than walking.”

Ignoring the sudden bombshell of Archangel apparently having sons- seriously, he doesn’t think even the media knows about that since this is the first he’s hearing of it- Tommy slowly nods his head. “Alright, as long as you don’t drop me or some shit.”

“Of course not, you’re in safe hands,” Archangel assures before clearing his throat. “Just so I know where to take you, mind giving me an address?”

Tommy agrees easily enough, rationalizing to himself that since Archangel doesn’t know that the younger avian also happens to be Red the vigilante, he doesn’t have any reason to take note of where he lives. Just to be on the safer side, though, he makes sure to only tell the hero the name of the street rather than his exact home address.

(It’s also nice that Archangel doesn’t question why Tommy has to pull out his phone and look through his notes app just to remember his own address.)

“Alright, are you ready?”

“Sure thing, big man.”

Archangel hands his shopping bag to Tommy. “I’m gonna pick you up now- hold on tight!” Before he can even respond the hero grabs Tommy under the arms, holding the boy tight to his chest as he launches from the ground with one great beat of his wings. Tommy shrieks, the noise snatched away by the wind as he clutches onto the plastic bags with all of his might.

“HOLY SHIT!”

“You alright there?” The hero says from behind Tommy, a laugh in his voice as he effortlessly speeds through the air. The blonde cranes his head back, trying to look at him, only to yelp as the movement causes a spike of vertigo.

“How are you so fucking fast?!”

“A lot of practice!” Archangel shouts back, swooping a little higher. From above the city is almost beautiful, lights shining through the fog that lines the streets. Something in Tommy feels at home this high in the air, and he slowly begins to calm down as minutes pass. He clutches the bags tight to his chest, looking out at the night sky while white-streaked hair whips around his face.

It’s sort of… peaceful.

Soon enough they find themselves above the streets of district seven, Archangel slowing down as they near Tommy’s street. “Is this the place?” He asks, beating his wings to keep them suspended in midair.

“Yeah,” Tommy says. He’s not actually sure, since it’s not like he’s ever seen the buildings from this angle before, but he can probably just use the GPS on his phone if it comes down to it. Archangel starts moving again, gently bringing them to the ground. Once they’ve landed he lets go of Tommy, keeping a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he gets used to standing on his own feet again.

“So this is… where you live, huh?” Archangel says, his voice dripping with forced politeness as he looks around at the dilapidated buildings.

“Never been to the lower districts, huh?” Tommy crosses his arms, eyes flitting over the hero with an unimpressed stare. “I mean, I’m not surprised.”

Archangel jolts in place, seeming oddly surprised at Tommy’s change of tone. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s common knowledge that you- all of the heroes with the PPA- rarely ever patrol in the lower districts. That’s why so many vigilantes come from seven and eight. No one else is here to protect us, not when the tories up in the richer districts are paying top dollar for you to stay around them.”

Silence stretches between them, and Tommy’s beginning to regret ever opening his mouth when Archangel finally speaks again.

“I… have to admit, I never really gave it much thought.” He glances around again, taking in the cracked pavement. “Most of my patrols are done upon request from my superiors but… you all could use some help, couldn’t you?”

Tommy steps back, eyes darting around as he attempts to backtrack. “I mean, I guess?” He- fuck, he didn’t mean to give Archangel a reason to possibly come back here. If heroes start hanging around his home district, it’s only a matter of time before he gets arrested for his vigilantism. “I don’t know. We’re fine, I just thought it was unfair is all.”

“I see,” is all Archangel replies with. His head turns towards Tommy, expression unreadable behind the veil that hides it. “Will you be alright to get home from here?”

Tommy nods, but Archangel doesn’t move just yet.

“And you’re okay..?” The hero asks, gesturing vaguely towards Tommy’s face. The blonde’s eyes narrow in confusion before widening, a hand flying up to cover his jaw- his jaw which is still significantly bruised from the previous night’s encounter with the Badlands.

“I- yeah! Yeah, I just tripped. Nothing to worry about,” Tommy laughs, hoping his nervousness doesn’t show. Internally, he curses himself for not putting on concealer before leaving the apartment. He’d assumed that he wouldn’t be seeing anyone important, but then Archangel just had to swoop in.

Nevertheless, the man seems to accept his excuse, though he doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Alright, then. Have a good night!” He spreads his wings and just like that, he’s gone.

Tommy stares after him, before looking down at the plastic bags in his hands. Then he blinks, bewilderment taking over him.

“The fuck..?”

The extra bag in his grasp, left behind by none other than Archangel, is filled with high-quality medicine and medical supplies.

Confusion continues to plague him as he makes his way inside and up to his apartment. It only gets more intense when Tommy looks down and discovers a little note written on the end of the receipt, which simply reads ‘Just in case you needed it’.

Huh.

The blonde steps into the apartment and locks the door behind him, a familiar voice welcoming him.

“You’re okay! Did everything go well?” Ranboo asks, particles buzzing around him as he greets his friend.

“Yeah, uh… I think Archangel just bought us a whole new medicine cabinet?”

Ranboo pauses, and Tubbo’s head pops up from where he’d been laying back on a pillow. “Sorry, what?”

Tommy wordlessly holds up the shopping bags in reply. “Medicine. For free.”

“No, no, no, go back,” Tubbo cuts in, frowning fiercely at the blonde. “What do you mean Archangel?”

“I had to go up to district six since none of the shops here were open, and I guess he was on patrol at the same time,” Tommy says. “Apparently he was worried about me being alone at night, so he walked me to the store and then took me back here. I guess he decided to go ahead and buy us some medicine too, since he left this bag with me when he dropped me off.”

“He doesn’t know who you are, does he?” Ranboo’s particles are buzzing wildly around him now, tail thumping against the side of the couch in agitation.

“No, no, it was just bad luck running into him,” Tommy assures. “I mean, at least we got free stuff out of it. Fuckin’ big pharma decided to raise their prices again, so if Archangel wasn’t there I’d have been shit out of luck.”

Ranboo doesn’t seem very comforted. “You’re not going out alone at night again.”

“Oh, come on. I’m fine.”

“Nope! Not happening! Not to mention, you didn’t even take one of our powers with you- I can’t believe we forgot about that!”

Tommy shrugs. “What’s done is done. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do believe a certain someone needs to take his medicine.”

“Ugh,” Tubbo groans from the couch, “Do I really have to?”

“Yep. Drink up, fucker.”

The goat hybrid reluctantly takes the cap of medicine, grimacing as it goes down. “Prime, you’d think they’d have figured out how to make that shit taste better by now.”

“They can’t make it too good, or else some kid will end up drinking the whole bottle and getting the company sued by their parents,” Ranboo says. “I’ll go restock the cabinet- both of you should probably get to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbles, turning to walk towards the bedroom.

“Hey, take one of the blankets with you!” Tubbo calls after him.

“I don’t want your disease blanket!” The blonde yells, Tubbo’s reply unintelligible as Tommy closes the bedroom door and flops onto the mattress. Finally, he can get some fucking peace around here.

A crash sounds from the bathroom.

…Or rather, as much ‘peace’ as is possible when you share an apartment with two living disasters.

-

Somewhere across the city, a hero opens a communications line. 

“Hey, you two- what do we think about adding the lower districts to our patrols?”

Chapter Text

Tommy glares at the dusty screen of the TV, his scowl deepening with every second that the current news clip continues to play. 

“Archangel, one of the Powered Protection Agency’s top heroes, has been seen patrolling in districts seven and eight this past week,” a reporter crows, looking all too pleased with the recent development. “His partners, Blade and Rhapsody, have also been spotted. Could this finally lower the crime rates of the lower districts for good?”

Groaning, the blonde mashes his face further into the couch cushion he’s laying on. For fuck’s sake, he didn’t think his brief conversation with Archangel would lead to this.

(Now working as a vigilante is going to be so much more complicated, and it’s all his fault. If only he hadn’t run his mouth, then maybe he wouldn’t have screwed everything up for his friends.)

“Many locals are celebrating this development,” the reporter presses on, “With some saying that they finally feel protected in their homes.”

Tommy scoffs under his breath at that, finally tearing his eyes away from the newscast. As if the lower district citizens feel anything but spite towards the PPA. Years of being left with no protection from violent crime while the richer districts flourish certainly haven’t helped endear the heroes to the less fortunate.

“Fat load of bullshit,” he mumbles to himself, sitting up to peer over the back of the couch. Sitting at the counter a few feet away is Tubbo, typing away on his laptop with a concentrated look on his face. He’s working on some sort of maintenance for his surveillance drones- updating the programming and whatnot. The brunet’s explained it to Tommy a thousand times before, but most of his technological ramblings are in one ear and out the other for the blonde.

Other than the tapping of the keyboard and the rambling of the reporter who Tommy’s no longer listening to, the apartment is quiet. It feels almost… emptier than usual, and Tommy’s brows furrow in confusion as he glances around.

“Hey, where’s Ranboo?” He asks, finally pinpointing the source of the strange emptiness. Tubbo looks up from his computer, raising an eyebrow.

“He took a late shift to help Karl take inventory at the library, remember? He told us earlier before he left.”

“Oh.” The avian shrinks a little, suddenly feeling a bit stupid. “…Did he say why they’re doing that?”

“Apparently they got a shipment of donated books or something and they need to switch them out with the ones they already have that aren’t getting checked out,” Tubbo says, patient as ever with his friend’s questions. “Either way, it’s just us for tonight’s patrol.”

Tommy blinks. “Oh yeah. Patrol.” The thing he hasn’t been on since the night before he encountered Archangel last week.

“You’re usually a lot more eager,” Tubbo says, arching an eyebrow. “You losing your nerve, bossman?”

“Hell no!” Tommy scoffs. “But uh, are you sure you wanna come with me? I know you prefer being the guy in the chair.” Plus you just got better from being sick, the blonde thinks, but doesn’t bother saying. Tubbo can be infuriatingly stubborn sometimes, not to mention all too willing to risk his own health.

“Well, I’m not about to let you go on your own and get arrested by one of these hero fucks, am I?”

“Fair enough,” Tommy acquiesces with a shrug. Then he glances towards the window, taking note of the already darkened sky. “Wanna head out now, or..?”

Tubbo nods, an ear flicking. “Might as well go now, it’s already pretty late.” He leaves the room only to come back with a stack of clothes, tossing Tommy’s costume to the avian. “Go ahead and get changed, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

With a nod of thanks, the blonde darts to the bathroom and shuffles into his vigilante gear. He pins his hair back- careful as always with the small feathers dotted along his hairline- and pulls up the hood, leaving his red-tinted goggles pushed up on his forehead as he walks back into the short hallway. The door to the bedroom is ajar, and as Tommy pokes his head in he can see that Tubbo is already changed.

The brunet’s costume has a prominent bee theme that, if not for the intimidating way Tubbo carries himself while in ‘vigilante mode’, would be almost comical. Like Tommy, he sports a pair of goggles, but where Tommy’s are round and red-tinted, Tubbo’s are yellow-tinted and hexagonal, reminiscent of a honeycomb. The lower half of his face is covered by a faux gas-mask. He wears a brown bomber jacket with yellow stripes running down the arms, golden thread on the back embroidering a pair of bee wings. The look is completed with black cargo pants and brown combat boots that, like Tommy and Ranboo’s own shoes, are packed full of Tubbo-made technology to boost jumps and soften the impact from harsh landings.

Tubbo’s outfit doesn’t see nearly as much use as Tommy or Ranboo’s, since the goat hybrid so often prefers to stay home as backup. Tommy quietly suspects it has something to do with the… accident that led up to his revival. A real shame, because Tubbo definitely has the coolest look among the trio’s vigilante personas.

“Looking badass as always, Big T.” Tommy shoots his friend a thumbs up, finishing off his own outfit change by pulling his goggles down onto his face.

“Funny, I could say the same about you.” Through Tubbo’s goggles, Tommy can just barely make out the brunet’s eyes crinkling in a smile. “Ready to go?”

The avian nods quickly and the two slip out of the apartment’s window, making their way across the city’s rooftops. Tubbo’s police scanner is relatively quiet, no large-scale crimes making themselves known as they patrol the city.

There are, of course, a few petty crimes they come across; a couple of muggings here, someone getting their purse stolen there- but all in all, it’s a remarkably peaceful night in Manberg. Not even the Badlands make an appearance, though they haven’t been seen since the night of the bank robbery. It’s not terribly unusual for criminals to lay low for a bit after committing a crime, so Tommy isn’t particularly concerned on that front. 

They probably will make a return soon, though- the Badlands have never been the type of group to take more than a brief rest.

After another hour of aimless wandering- and a few minutes walking a drunk college student back to her apartment building- Tommy and Tubbo find themselves on a nondescript rooftop on the outskirts of district eight.

“Find anything on that scanner yet?” Tommy asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. There’s a nervous energy humming throughout the avian that he can’t seem to get rid of, probably a result of the break in his normal patrol routine- something about being out on duty without powers for once (because he wouldn’t send Ranboo to work on his own without his powers intact, and Tubbo is with him-) is making him antsy.

He ruffles his feathers, flexing his wrists before fixing an expectant gaze on Tubbo.

“Not really,” Tubbo replies after switching through a few channels, and though Tommy can’t see the goat hybrid’s face, a puzzled frown is evident from his voice alone. “Weird, right?”

“Seems a little too good to be true,” the blonde says with a huff, walking forward to lean over the side of the building. His eyes bring him nothing but empty, dilapidated streets, and he turns away- faint, vaguely unpleasant memories swimming just under the surface of his mind.

Shrugging, Tubbo shoves the police scanner into his pocket. “Eh, might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

Humming in agreement, Tommy makes his way over to stand next to the brunet. He bumps a shoulder against Tubbo’s, who glances over at him before tilting his head up towards the sky. Faintly, past the city’s light, stars can be seen twinkling above them.

“Do you remember that one time, back when the three of us first ran away together, we climbed one of the hills outside of the city?”

Tommy blinks. “I…”

(No. He can’t remember. He can’t remember, and it drives him mad sometimes how isolated Tubbo must feel as the only one of their trio who can.)

“I don’t. Can you tell me about it?”

Tubbo’s voice is quiet, almost reverent. “The sky was so clear… there were more stars than I had ever seen before in my life. I felt like I would get lost just looking at them.”

Turning, Tommy looks at his friend, whose face remains tilted towards the sky. “T- Apis-”

Someone clears their throat behind them. 

Tommy whips around to face the unknown threat, eyes wide behind his goggles. Somehow Tubbo is already in a fighting stance, glaring at-

“Am I interrupting something?” Rhapsody asks, arms crossed as he stares down the vigilante duo.

“Oh shit,” Tommy mumbles, earning himself an elbow in the side.

“Rhapsody, what are you doing here?” Tubbo demands, his voice so different from the soft tone of moments prior. His hands are flexing at his sides, no doubt ready to create an explosion and run- but Tommy knows, and he knows Tubbo knows, that it’s a bad idea. They’re on top of a residential building in district eight, after all.

If it comes down to it, their escape isn’t worth the civilian casualties and destruction that will surely follow.

“Don’t keep up with the news? My patrols expanded,” Rhapsody says, all feigned nonchalance as he pretends to examine his nails. “That means I’m here to take care of any crimes, if you didn’t know.”

“We’re not dumb,” Tommy starts, irked at the hero’s patronizing tone. “If you didn’t know, up until maybe a week ago none of you heroes did jack shit around here. So why are you here now?”

Rhapsody pauses, eyes glinting faintly behind his mask. His whole getup is, in Tommy’s opinion, quite frankly ridiculous- a trench coat? Really? And don’t get him started on how fucking emo the whole outfit is- but that’s besides the point.

“Well, let’s just say someone I know had a bit of a… change in perspective,” the hero says. “So here I am, ready to clean up these streets, or whatever they say on the news. Speaking of-” Rhapsody draws himself up, suddenly seeming much more intimidating- “I hate to do this to you and all, but I am under obligation to arrest you for vigilantism. You can either let me detain you peacefully, or try to run and make your sentence that much worse.”

The duo stare at the hero, both taking several steps back.

“No fucking way, man,” Tubbo snaps, and Tommy quietly gets ready to pull his retractable staff from its spot on his belt.

“Look, I know you two think you’re doing the right thing, but this isn’t your job.”

“Whose job is it, then? Because I know I’ve certainly never seen any of you tory fucks lifting a finger to help the lower districts before now,” Tommy spits, wings flaring threateningly behind him and shaking with tension.

“Vigilantism is illegal and dangerous,” Rhapsody says, infuriatingly dodging the question, “Even if you two think you’re hot shit, there’s gonna be a point when you run out of luck.”

The hero draws a power suppressing cuff out of one of his pockets, and sparks flutter dangerously around Tubbo’s hands.

“Just leave us alone,” the goat hybrid pleads, a last-ditch effort to disengage from the encounter. They can’t fight Rhapsody, or at least can’t realistically hope to win- not when both of them are effectively powerless and have nowhere to run.

“I don’t want to fight you. Just-” Rhapsody reaches out, eyes suddenly emitting an eerie golden light from behind his mask as he draws upon his powers, and-

Without a moment to think Tommy lunges forwards, bare fingertips brushing against the skin of Rhapsody’s exposed wrist. He pulls at something settled deep into the man’s soul and Rhapsody stumbles, eyes wide and panicked at the sudden gaping chasm that lies where his powers once were.

A golden glow filters through red-tinted goggles, making Tommy’s eyes gleam like twin pools of molten lava.

“Let us go,” He commands, voice hoarse with the weight of a power beyond his understanding, “Don’t call for backup until we’re gone.”

Rhapsody is helpless to do anything but obey.

“Red-?” Tubbo chokes, head swiveling between Tommy and the frozen hero. “What-”

“Come on,” Tommy snaps, seizing one of Tubbo’s hands and pulling him into a sprint. Despite his confusion Tubbo’s years of experience kick in quickly, easily matching Tommy’s pace as the two leap between rooftops and past alleyways.

“Why did you do that?”

“Please just wait ‘til we’re home,” Tommy deflects, because it’s only a matter of time until Rhapsody comes after them. He can already feel his grip on the power slipping, it’s twisting out of his grasp like a snake, and the second that tether snaps they’ll lose their head start.

As soon as Tommy lets go of the power, Rhapsody will have it back. If the hero catches them a second time, he won’t let his power be so easily stolen from him again.

Tubbo’s irritation is clear but his hand is steady in Tommy’s and he waits until they’re safely inside the apartment, windows and doors shut tight before he rounds on the taller boy. “What did you do?!”

The power- still unclear to Tommy exactly what it is, persuasion or mind control?- slips away, dissolving like mist between the blonde’s fingers. He staggers slightly, caught between relief and some sort of twisted regret at the loss.

“Tommy. What. Did. You. Do.” There are hands gripping his shoulders as Tubbo interrogates him, eyes sharp with the kind of anger only a fierce protectiveness can bring.

“I did what I had to,” Tommy says, and Tubbo makes a frustrated noise that has the blonde’s wings snapping outwards defensively in a sick mirror of the encounter with Rhapsody. “He was about to use it first, I had no choice!”

Tubbo seems to back off slightly, and Tommy has no idea whether it’s because of his explanation, or his wings that still tremble in an instinctively threatening pose. “You realize that he knows now, right?”

“I had no choice,” Tommy repeats. “I couldn’t just let him use his voice on us.”

Tubbo’s shoulders slump, and he lets go of the blonde to turn away. “I know.” Then he looks back, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just…”

He doesn’t need to say the rest. Tommy understands.

There are no more words exchanged as they swap out their vigilante disguises for casual clothes. Minutes pass and eventually Tommy makes his way out to the living room, sitting down beside Tubbo where the brunet is on the couch, staring at the blank screen of the little box TV that had come with the apartment. Tommy alternates between watching the door, waiting for the moment that Ranboo steps through and breaks the tense atmosphere, and matching Tubbo’s stare at the dusty screen. It’s not even turned on- the screen is dark, but the goat hybrid watches it with as intent a gaze as a devotee at a sermon. 

The room is perfectly noiseless, silent.

Silent in that horrible knowledge that Rhapsody now knows what Tommy’s power is- and soon, so will the rest of the heroes that Rhapsody works with.

(He doesn’t know what the heroes will do with this knowledge, and it’s that which terrifies him the most.)

Tubbo finally breaks the silence, and his voice is full of that panicked uncertainty that Tommy hates being the cause of-

“What are we going to do?”

Tommy swallows, his throat dry. 

“...I don't know.”

Chapter Text

Will: Tommayyyy

Tommy: what do you want bitchboy

Will: I’m wounded

Will: And to think I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out

Tommy: well i suppose i could make some time in my busy schedule

Will: You’re so full of shit man I know it’s your day off

Tommy: the grind never stops bro

Will: Right…

Will: Well if you see fit to take a break from The Grind and grace me with your presence, Techno and I will be at the park in Sixth

Tommy: the one with the fountain right?

Will: That’s the one

Tommy: i’ll be there in a few

“I’m going out!” Tommy calls, slipping his shoes on by the doorway of the apartment. He closes out of the open chat and slides his cracked phone into his pocket, stumbling slightly on untied shoelaces.

Tubbo pokes his head around the corner, visibly relaxing when he sees Tommy in his civilian clothes. “Alright, be careful.” A muffled voice sounds from the bedroom, and Tubbo pauses for a moment to listen before turning back to Tommy. “Ranboo’s asking where you’re going.”

“Just gonna hang out with Will and Techno for a bit,” Tommy replies, “I don’t think it’ll be more than a couple hours at most.”

Shooting him a thumbs up, Tubbo lets him go with a “Have fun!” before going back to whatever he’d been doing before- probably getting ready for work, as his normal shift starts in an hour. Tommy is quick to make his way down to the street, weaving between other pedestrians on the sidewalk with a furrowed brow.

The avian’s not sure why Tubbo seems so worried that he might go patrolling on his own. Sure, he used to try and insist on going alone almost every time, but it’s not like his friends really ever let him. Plus, Tommy’s not an idiot- sneaking out with no backup when Rhapsody’s out there is just asking to be captured. The blonde’s hardly been out patrolling even with company since the power-reveal fiasco, every shadow making him jump and cower at the possibility of yet another so-called hero crawling out of the woodwork.

It’s like Tubbo thinks he might just throw logic out the window at any given opportunity. Like he doesn’t trust him.

Shaking his head ever so slightly, Tommy speeds up his footsteps. It’s fine, Tubbo’s just worried. Besides, as much as he hates to admit it, the newfound presence of heroes in the lower districts has helped cut down on petty crimes just a bit. For once, the vigilantes in the area have been able to take a step back without the weight of the entire district’s safety falling down on them.

Heroes aren’t perfect, though. They can’t be, not when the PPA works so closely with the government.

Tommy scowls at the thought. Luckily it only takes another few minutes to get to his destination and he raises his head, eyes brightening at the sight of the rusted gates that mark the entrance to the park. There’s no time for brooding when Will and Techno are waiting for him.

The park isn’t very crowded, all things considered. That’s just a bonus to Tommy, though- he won’t have to worry about little kids barreling into him or being chased by someone’s off-leash dog.

Will’s text hadn’t said exactly where in the area he would be, but Tommy likes to think he knows the man well enough to make an educated guess. With that, he makes a beeline straight towards the fountain in the middle of the park- even if Will isn’t right there, it’ll be a good starting point to look for the man. Of course, he could also just text him, but that would involve giving up on the hunt. 

In the end, Tommy doesn’t need to do much looking at all. Almost as soon as the avian steps onto the concrete plaza that holds the fountain, a familiar voice is calling his name.

“Tommy!” Will says, his eyes lighting up. “You made it!” His hair flutters in the breeze, the blonde streak glinting in the sun. Grinning, Tommy closes the distance and lets Will pull him into a quick one-armed hug. The brunet’s arm is surprisingly warm around him, and he has to resist the urge to just close his eyes and sink into the embrace.

“Hey, Will,” he says instead, returning the hug. “How are you, big man?”

“Oh, I can’t complain,” Will smiles, pulling away. “I managed to get this sourpuss out of the house, so that’s always a plus.” He gestures to Techno with a thumb, and the pink-haired man raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Really, Will, you make it sound like I’m some kind of hermit.” Techno shakes his head, turning to look at Tommy. “Good to see you, Tommy. I could use some company other than this nerd.”

Tommy nods in mock sympathy. “Yes, I can’t imagine it’s been easy with him.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Will looks back and forth between the two, eyes wide with comical offense. “It’s not even been five minutes and you two are already ganging up on me!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I’m just better.”

“Can you believe this guy?” Will mock-whispers to a giggling Tommy, loud enough for Techno to hear him clearly. 

“I dunno Will, the man is making some pretty solid points,” Tommy says with a mischievous grin, making Will throw his hands up in defeat.

“Oh, the betrayal!” The brunet laments, walking away from the other two with a dramatic huff. “If you two can’t appreciate me, I’ll just take my presence elsewhere.”

“Noooo, Will! Come back,” Tommy cries, playing up his faux-anguish as he jogs to catch up with Will and Techno follows at a walk. “You’re only a little bit of a nerd, right, Techno?”

“Mhm,” Techno hums, “Let’s go with that.”

Will indulges him, turning back to rejoin the group. “I suppose I could forgive you,” he sighs. Then he smiles, breaking character. “Come on, I’ll show you the best walking paths- have you been here before, Tommy?”

The three walk around for a bit, Will and Tommy chattering aimlessly and laughing along with Techno’s occasional but witty comments. Eventually they come to a stop in front of a bench, positioned with a perfect view of the small pond in front of it. Techno and Will sit down, and Tommy is about to follow their lead when something catches his attention.

“Oh, there are ducks!”

A few of the birds float around on the surface of the water, drawing Tommy to the shore as he watches them. One group in particular catches his attention- a mother with a group of ducklings trailing behind her as they swim across the pond. In the back of the little flock, one of the ducklings is visibly struggling to keep up, and Tommy leans forward anxiously as it begins to lag behind.

What will happen to the duckling if the others leave it alone? Surely it can’t survive for too long without anyone to protect it.

The duckling quacks loudly, getting the attention of the rest of its family- and just like that, the mother slows down, allowing it to catch up. Tommy’s shoulders relax as the duckling rejoins its flock, an odd feeling that he can’t place making itself at home in his chest. He shakes it off rather quickly, though. They’re just birds.

“Guys, look-” Tommy turns around, pausing when he sees Will and Techno muttering to each other, voices low enough that he can’t make out what they’re saying until he walks closer.

“I don’t know, it’s like he’s not-” Will is saying, breaking off when he notices Tommy approaching. “Hey, you done looking at the ducks?”

Sitting down on the end of the bench, Tommy turns towards the brothers with a furrowed brow. “What’re you guys talking about?” 

Will shrugs. “Just some work stuff.”

Curiosity sparks in Tommy’s chest. Despite having known Will for a while- and Techno for a much shorter amount of time- he still doesn’t know what the man does for a job. He also doesn’t want to pry, but at the same time…

“What kind of work stuff?”

An unsure look crosses Will’s face before he glances at Techno, who takes the reins. “Just one of our coworkers- he’s been actin’ weird lately, so…”

“What, is he bein’ a creep? I’ll fight him, y’know.” Tommy’s only half-joking as he brandishes his fists.

“Not that kind of weird,” Techno deadpans, “Just not himself.”

“It’s really nothing for you to worry about, sunshine,” Will says then, and Tommy blinks in surprise.

Sunshine?

That’s… new. It’s actually kind of nice. Tommy wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it, though.

“Anyway,” Will says, expertly changing the subject, “I believe I forgot to ask earlier- how’ve you been, man?”

Tommy shrugs with a joking little grin. “Oh, I’ve been the same as I usually am- incredibly cool and big. And getting all the ladies, don’t forget that.”

Techno snorts in the background as Will raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Of course, how could I ever forget.” He indulges. “So nothing new, then?”

“I mean, I guess there’s been some hero patrols around my area lately,” Tommy says. “Kinda weird that they just decided to do that now.” 

He’s not actually sure why he didn’t just deflect Will’s question- thinking about the Prime-forsaken heroes right now is really the last thing the blonde wants to do. Will, however, gives him an interested look, leaning forward in his seat slightly.

“Oh, really?” The brunet asks, though something about his curious expression seems… off. “I wonder why that is.”

“I dunno, probably because they’re all a bunch of pricks,” Tommy says flatly. Sure, he’s being a bit unfair, especially when Archangel literally refilled his entire medicine cabinet free of charge, and Blade hasn’t really done much to antagonize him, but Rhapsody…

Oh, what Tommy would give to know he’d never have to see that fucker again.

Will laughs. “You don’t like them, then?”

“Ugh, no,” Tommy says with a grimace. “Half of them act like they’re doing everyone some great favor by existing- they’re so full of shit.”

“Come on, you can’t possibly hate all of them,” Will says, ignoring Techno’s harsh whisper of his name. “How about Rhapsody? What do you think of him?”

Tommy’s face must make some kind of horrible expression, because Will blinks at him in surprise. Techno begins to snicker from his other side, elbowing him slightly, and Tommy looks between the two, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What? He’s a bitch, guys.”

“You can say that again,” Techno agrees, still with a faintly amused twinkle in his eyes.

“Blade is much cooler.”

Techno’s brows lift at that, before he turns to Will. “Hear that, Will? You’ve been dethroned.” When Tommy makes a confused noise, he’s quick to explain. “Rhapsody’s Will’s favorite hero. He’s always talkin’ about the guy, like give it a break.”

“Woah, come on now, I am not always talking about him!” Will defends, apparently brought back down to Earth by the accusation of being a Rhapsody fanboy. “I was just curious about Tommy’s hero opinions, thank you very much.”

“Well, now you’ve heard them,” Tommy says, eager to move away from the subject. “Not really much else to say about it.” 

There’s an awkward pause, causing the avian to shift uncomfortably. Techno glances over at him, eyes seeming to catch on to the movement before he speaks. “So, uh. I know we met when Will invited you to dinner but we didn’t actually get to talk much, what do you like to do?”

It’s obvious that Techno is just offering him an out- the piglin hybrid looks a bit uncomfortable himself, and Tommy gets the distinct feeling that he’s not the most social of guys- but the blonde perks up all the same. “Has Will told you about my coffee-making expertise?”

“Maybe once or twice,” Techno says, though the sheepish look on Will’s face tells him it’s been a bit more than that, “I could stand to be reminded.”

No more encouragement is needed- Tommy latches onto the subject with an unmatched fervor, launching into a rant about different flavor combinations and techniques that he’s invented. Of course, a few jabs about Will’s faulty sense of taste are thrown in, much to the brunet’s chagrin.

“And Will’s always like, ‘This is the greatest thing I’ve ever had in my life, you’re a genius Tommy’, even if I tried to make it taste bad, so I’m developing a theory that he actually has no taste buds at all and has just been lying this whole time,” Tommy rambles, putting on a high-pitched voice when he does his impression of Will.

“I do not sound like that,” Will protests, “Techno, back me up here.”

Instead of defending his brother, however, the pink-haired man takes Tommy’s side. “It’s okay, Will, a lot of people have high voices. It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

“Oh, come on!”

Tommy smiles, happy to poke some good-natured fun at his friend with Techno. The man is turning out to be a rather entertaining person to be around. He still doesn’t actually know much about him, though- and Techno had been polite enough to ask him about what he likes to do, so…

“So what do you like to do, Techno?”

Looking a bit taken off-guard, the piglin hybrid takes a moment before answering. “Well, I’m into literature. I actually used to study English- I usually like to read over old Greek myths, though.”

“Really?” Tommy cocks his head in curiosity. “What kinda stories are those?”

A spark ignites in Techno’s eyes at the question, and before Tommy knows it the man’s launching into an in-depth explanation of his favorite bits of mythology lore. It’s a lot more interesting than Tommy had initially expected, and luckily Techno seems happy enough to answer his multitude of questions.

Eventually, though, the hangout has to come to an end. As they talk, Will absently checks the time only to stop short, blinking over at Techno and Tommy. “As much as I hate to interrupt, it’s getting close to dinner time. Techno and I should probably get home, but it’s been nice seeing you!” He ruffles Tommy’s hair good-naturedly- managing to avoid snagging the feathers along his hairline, which the blonde greatly appreciates- and the group parts, Techno sending Tommy one last wave over his shoulder as they leave.

Tommy shudders. It feels as though when the two brothers left, they took all the warmth with them- the stress he thought he’d successfully forgotten about is coming back in full force now that he’s alone.

His stupid thoughts- especially about Rhapsody and how badly he fucked up- won’t leave his head. Will’s questioning about the heroes really hadn’t helped either, even if he did change the subject afterwards.

It sticks to Tommy’s brain like glue. Is there even anything he can do about Rhapsody, other than hide and pray for it all to just blow over? Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo can’t exactly run away. The avian had briefly toyed with the idea of fleeing the city, but even between three people they don’t have the funds to just uproot their lives, and the only nearby city is Las Nevadas- whose leader is someone that Tommy knows Tubbo has mixed feelings about. 

The only option they seem to have is to stay, and just hope the heroes won’t catch them. Tommy doesn’t want to give up vigilantism, because even if the so-called professionals have it covered, he knows firsthand that things will always slip through the cracks. And when you have heroes beholden to the government’s commands in a place like this, it’s only a matter of time before corruption seeps in.

He just… doesn’t want to drag his friends down with him.

Tommy pushes open the door to the apartment with his head down and a furrowed brow. As he steps inside, the first thing he notices is that Tubbo’s shoes are by the doorway even though the goat hybrid should, by all accounts, still be at work.

“Oh, you’re back!” He hears someone say, and looks up to see Ranboo walking toward him. Apparently the blonde doesn’t manage to wipe the upset look off his face quickly enough because Ranboo stops, visible concern flitting across his face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tommy says distractedly, looking around until he catches sight of Tubbo. The shorter boy is frowning at his phone, staring at the screen like he’s trying to burn a hole in it with his eyes. “Tubs, what happened? I thought you had work today.”

Tubbo looks up, his expression slightly surprised as though he hadn’t noticed Tommy’s approach. “Puffy wasn’t at the shop today, and she’s not answering her phone. I just closed up the store for now, I wasn’t sure what to do. I mean, I can’t run her business for her…”

Tommy blinks in mild bewilderment. Tubbo’s boss is pretty well-known for her enthusiasm about her business as a mechanic, so her being a no-show is rather out of character. Still, it’s most likely just a fluke, and he needs to be there for his friend.

“Definitely not,” The blonde eventually says, hoping to wipe the contemplative look off of Tubbo’s face. “You may be a good mechanic, but you don’t need all that on your plate right now.” 

“I know,” Tubbo concedes. “She’s probably just sick or something, but it’s weird that she didn’t text me about it.” He turns and pauses, taking in Tommy’s own troubled expression. “Hey- what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” The avian’s eyes widen for a moment, surprised sky blue briefly meeting dark brown and glancing away, before his face settles into something of a forced smile. “Just worried about Puffy.”

Tubbo crosses his arms, staring at Tommy with an unimpressed look. “Bullshit.” Ranboo comes up beside him, but he’s silent as Tubbo continues to speak. “Come on Toms, I know you better than that.”

Tommy can feel his face heating up with the threat of unshed tears, but he refuses to look up and meet his friend’s eyes. “I’m fine, Tubbo, just leave it.”

“Did Will and Techno do something to upset you? Is that why you don’t wanna tell us?”

“What- no! They didn’t do anything.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Ranboo cuts in. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what the problem is.”

“I don’t-” Tommy cuts himself off, shoulders shaking. “I’m just being stupid, it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not stupid,” Tubbo starts. “Even if you’re just having a bad day, we-”

Tommy hiccups, and the room plunges into silence. A tear slips off his chin and hits the wooden floor with an audible tap.

“Oh, Tommy,” Ranboo breaks the stillness in the air, moving forward to wipe at the blonde’s face. “Hey, you’re alright.”

“You-” Tommy grabs at Ranboo’s wrists, trying to push his hands away even as more and more tears begin to pour out of him like a broken faucet. “Stop, you’re- gonna get burned-” There’s a little sizzle as Ranboo’s thumb brushes under his eye, and this is exactly what Tommy didn’t want, to hurt his friends, to be even more of a burden than he already is. But Ranboo doesn’t let go, instead pulling him into a hug, and Tommy’s tears turn into shuddering sobs.

With a quiet whine, Tommy turns his face into Ranboo’s shoulder and lets the taller boy’s shirt absorb his tears in hopes that they won’t make it through to Ranboo’s skin. After a moment a hand lands on his back- Tubbo’s, the brunet is right beside the two of them now- rubbing gentle circles into the space between his covered-up wings.

“Just hold on to me, okay? Just hold on. I’m here,” Ranboo mutters.

“We’re here,” Tubbo corrects, and even in his stress-induced haze it coaxes a wet little laugh from Tommy.

“Sorry,” The blonde eventually whispers, heart in his throat. The tears haven’t stopped falling yet, but he needs to say something. “I’m being a nuisance, huh?”

“Of course you aren’t,” Tubbo says, and Tommy almost wants to laugh at the sheer difference between now and all the times the brunet has jokingly called him annoying. The brief flash of mirth doesn’t last for long.

“You guys have done so much for me and I just-” Tommy swallows roughly, choking down another stupid sob- “I keep fucking up. I keep dragging you down. You literally brought me back from the dead and all I’ve repaid you in is more stress, I’ve gotten us in more shit with the heroes than you two probably would’ve, Hell- even now I’m just making everything about me! You both have your own shit going on that you have to deal with and I’m just sitting here, making you comfort me like some kind of useless idiot.”

“Is that what this is about?” Tubbo’s hand pauses, still resting on Tommy’s back, and the blonde turns to see Tubbo looking at him with a somewhat pained yet fond expression. “Tommy, you don’t need to worry about that. So what if you get us in a little trouble? I know- I know you can’t remember it, but you saved me. You gave me the courage to leave. To live. Nothing you do will ever be a burden to me, not when it’s you.”

“He’s right,” Ranboo says, low tones slightly muffled in Tommy’s hair. “My memory’s not the best-” He laughs slightly- “We’re similar in that regard, but I still get little flashes every now and then. And they tell me of a brave, kind boy who was my only friend when nobody else would be. No matter how much you need- comfort, or help, or anything- we’re still gonna be here. You’d do the same for us.”

“But- with Rhapsody, I-”

“You did what you had to do, right?”

Tommy hesitates, then nods.

“Then it’s fine. We’ll figure it out, just like we always do.”

Letting out a shuddering breath, Tommy slumps forward, dragging Tubbo in to join his and Ranboo’s hug. “I love you guys.”

Two voices echo his words, finally sending the tension from his body. And as he scrubs the salt from his cheeks, he thinks to himself- We’ll be fine. We always are.

Chapter Text

The front door of the apartment slams shut as Tubbo walks through, haphazardly throwing his shoes off with a frown.

“No luck today either?” Ranboo asks, prompting Tubbo to shake his head in response.

“Nope- and she’s still not responding to any texts or calls.”

Every morning since the day Puffy hadn’t showed up to work, Tubbo’s been going to the shop just to see if she might be there. She never is, and the trio’s attempts to contact her have been equally fruitless. It’s as if the woman has completely fallen off the radar. 

Turning in his seat, Tommy watches as Tubbo runs a hand through his hair and lets out a stressed sigh.

“It’s been over a week now. I’m starting to think I should report her missing.”

Tommy frowns, thinking of the… subpar performance of the local police branch. “Are you sure the cops will actually do anything about it?”

Tubbo shrugs. “Well, it’s better than doing nothing. Besides, the shop’s in district five, so maybe the branch up there will care a little more.”

“That’s true,” Tommy agrees, “They might even give it a little higher priority since Puffy’s a business owner and all.” 

It shouldn’t work that way, of course, but Prime knows the city is in no condition to miss out on even a little bit of money cycling back into the economy. Fairness be damned.

Pulling out his laptop, Tubbo sits down on the couch where he’ll evidently be setting up camp for the day. “I’ll submit it anonymously, then. Might as well look for some hacking jobs while I’m at it, since it doesn’t look like I’m going back to the shop anytime soon.”

Ranboo hums in agreement while Tommy idly watches over Tubbo’s shoulder as the brunet fills out the report then makes his way to the various hidden forums where potential clients can be found. There’s a decent amount of money to be made from hacking gigs- Tubbo’s used his skills to get the trio out of financial tight spots before- but the problem lies in finding the customers. It’s not exactly a legal business, after all.

Still, if Tommy has confidence in anything, it’s Tubbo’s ability to not be caught.

Eventually Tubbo secures a few jobs and pivots to doing maintenance on his bee drones, which have been acting up in the last few days. Something about their footage being glitchy- technological rabble that Tommy hadn’t quite understood when the goat hybrid described the issue. Tommy and Ranboo pass the day idling around the apartment, getting a whole lot of nothing done until dusk falls and Tommy is ready to cry out of boredom.

Ranboo stares at the wall, tail flicking in a way that indicates he’s suffering from an equal amount of boredom, then glances over at Tommy. “Hey, why don’t we go patrol?”

Tommy sits up and Tubbo looks over from where he’s been typing away on his little keyboard. “You want to?” The avian asks, eagerness leaking into his voice.

“Not much else to do,” Ranboo says with a shrug. The two glance over at Tubbo, who looks back at them with a slightly exasperated expression.

“Really, man? With the heroes out there?”

“We’ll be careful!” Tommy pleads.

Tubbo looks at them for a moment longer, then inclines his head. “Eh, alright. It’s not like we’re gonna lay low forever.”

“Yes!” With a quick fist bump of victory, Tommy and Ranboo part ways to scramble into their vigilante disguises. They emerge back into the living room to say goodbye to Tubbo, who’s quick to offer his power for Tommy to borrow.

“Not this time,” the blonde declines.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Ran can teleport us out if any heroes come close and I want to leave a space open just in case I need to grab one of those fucker’s powers again.”

“Okay…” Tubbo frowns, not entirely convinced but apparently deciding not to push the issue. “Just remember that I won’t be able to keep an eye on you guys today, so actually be careful.”

“Got it,” Tommy nods, “Good luck with your bees, Tubso.”

“We’ll be back in a few hours,” Ranboo adds, and with that they’re off into the mean streets of Manberg. 

The next hour or so passes relatively uneventfully, until the sound of an alarm blaring from a store pierces through the night. The duo pause, glancing at each other uneasily.

“Should we-?” Tommy begins to ask, only to be harshly shushed by Ranboo. It’s only a moment later that the blonde’s enhanced hearing picks up the sound of wingbeats against the air and Ranboo- quick as ever- takes his arm, teleporting them into a nearby alleyway. They shrink back into the shadows and watch the skies as Archangel flies past, undoubtedly on his way to stop whoever had caused the alarm. Tommy almost feels sorry for the bastard- they won't stand a chance when Archangel knocks them out cold with his power.

(The actual nature of the hero’s power is hotly debated, since he’s never divulged just what exactly it is to the public, but Tommy personally believes the energy-drain theory is the most likely to be true.)

“Let’s get outta here,” Ranboo says, garnering a quick agreement from Tommy. Better to patrol elsewhere now that they have an idea of where the heroes will be for the night. Usually only one of the top three will patrol the lower districts at a time, so as long as Tommy and Ranboo don’t venture too far they won’t have to worry about running into Rhapsody or Blade.

The two cross the rooftops until they’re on the opposite side of district seven, returning to their patrol by the buildings that border district eight. It only takes a few minutes for them to hear the sounds of a commotion, a woman’s yell shocking both boys into full alertness. Tommy darts to the edge of the rooftop, looking down into the alley the cry had come from.

The scene is, unfortunately, a common one in the lower districts- a scruffy-looking man threatening a woman who doesn’t look much better off, demanding she hand over her wallet. Tommy watches for just a moment, and at the sight of a knife flashing in the man’s wildly gesturing hands, he jumps and lands soundlessly between the pair.

“Hey man,” Tommy begins, shielding the woman with his body as he looks towards the would-be mugger, “How about you leave this lady alone?”

“What are you, some fuckin’ hero wanna-be? Mind your business,” the man spits, taking a threatening step forwards. Tommy doesn’t move, carefully keeping his attention away from the cloud of purple particles that materializes behind the criminal.

“You don’t have to fight me,” the avian says. Apparently it’s the opposite of what his adversary wants to hear, because the man lunges forward with a snarl only to be pulled back suddenly.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Ranboo says mildly from where he’s grabbed the mugger, before knocking him out with a precise blow to the head. After briefly checking over the man where the ender hybrid propped him up against the wall, Tommy turns to the woman they’d saved.

“You alright, miss?”

The woman frowns, taking a few steps back. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want us to walk you home?” Ranboo asks then, and the woman shakes her head.

“No, no, I’ve… I’ve got it,” she says, giving them one last wary look as she flees the alleyway.

Tommy's not surprised. Most of the people in Manberg, particularly the lower-district citizens, tend to stay away from the world of heroes and villains. If one of them was caught in the crossfire and got hurt, or Prime forbid killed, well…

Let's just say it wouldn't be the first time such a thing had happened.

The blonde looks sideways to Ranboo. “You think we should head home?” 

The taller boy startles slightly, pulling his eyes away from the opening of the alley to nod his head in reply. “We’ve been out for a few hours now, might as well.”

Rather than teleporting, the two decide to just walk home- they’re not far from the apartment, and it’s a nice night. The peacefulness of their walk, however, is short-lived, a foreboding feeling beginning to encroach on Tommy’s mind as he glances around. “Does something feel… off to you?”

He can imagine Ranboo’s worried frown as he begins to reply. “Yeah, but I don’t see any-” He cuts himself off suddenly just as Tommy hears a faint noise from somewhere nearby. Under his hood his ears perk up, and he can see Ranboo standing up a little straighter as a soft thump sounds from behind them. Then a footstep. The pair both whip around to face the newcomer, only to falter at the sight of a familiar cloaked villain.

“Halo?” Tommy frowns, confused- the villain has never been one to approach them first.

“Theseus, Ender! Fancy seeing you here,” Halo says, voice tinged with something strange. It’s like the man is trying to be his usual cheerful self, but something in the way he speaks falls short. And…

Theseus?

Why is Halo calling him that all of a sudden- why, when he’d always been one of the few to respect the name Tommy had actually chosen for his vigilante persona? 

“My name’s Red, man. Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m more than okay!” The villain says, taking a step forward. Shadows swirl around his feet, thin tendrils flicking out, and Tommy edges away with a wary glance downward. “In fact, I was just looking for you!”

“You’re being weird,” Tommy points out, and as he stares at Halo he realizes that the man is completely alone- no other members of the Badlands are anywhere to be seen, not even lurking in the shadows like Tommy had originally assumed.

Ranboo makes a confused noise in the back of his throat from beside him, apparently coming to the same realization. “Are you… Where’s the rest of your group?”

Halo stiffens. “What?”

“The Badlands?” Ranboo replies, concern in his voice. There’s no reply, and Tommy is about to reach out and pull him back when he continues. “I’ve never seen you work alone before.”

“Don’t talk about them,” Halo grits out, and oh. Something is wrong here.

“Ender, I don’t-” Tommy starts to intervene- not fast enough.

“Where’s Golem?”

“Shut up!” Halo snaps, and with a sickening flash his blade is whipping through the air, pulled from its sheath too quickly for either of the vigilantes to react. Tommy leaps forward, an aborted cry dying in his throat as he reaches for his friend.

“Wh-what..?” Ranboo stumbles back, a hand flying to his side and coming away wet. The dark velvet of his suit is growing darker, almost glossy with the shine of blood, and with a sting of horror Tommy realizes that he can see the maroon color that only comes from a severe cut through the tattered fabric of Ranboo’s shirt.  “Did you just…”

“Ender!” Tommy all but screams, forgetting his surroundings as he sprints to the ender hybrid’s side and barely manages to catch him as he collapses to the ground. “Fuck, you’re- you’re alright-” His breath hitches as he lowers the older boy to the ground, his wound now more visible from up close. It’s a long gash, starting against his side and curving slightly towards his stomach. It doesn’t look too horribly deep, but blood is flowing out at an alarming rate and Tommy is quick to pick up Ranboo’s hands, pressing them down over the wound and drawing a pained grunt from the boy.

“Keep your hands there. Press down, so it- it won’t bleed as much, I’ll be right back, okay, stay here,” Tommy rambles, stressing the last words as he removes his hands. Ranboo nods, his hands thankfully staying pressed to the wound despite how hazy his eyes look behind his mask. 

The avian looks up, apprehensive at the situation he and his friend have been forced into, only to find that Halo isn’t even looking in his direction. The villain is standing right where Tommy left him, hunched over slightly and clutching his head as if in pain. Unintelligible mutters come from under his hood, almost like he’s arguing with himself.

He seems distracted.

Good.

Tommy is going to make this fucker wish he was never born.

He rolls his sleeves up, uncaring of the fact that his gloves are already fingerless. If Halo tries to grab him to keep him away, this will increase the chance that Tommy can still make enough physical contact to use his powers.

Then he lunges.

His wings boost him along, giving him even more of an edge as he whips out his baton and cracks it across Halo’s face, sending the villain stumbling with a startled cry. Tommy darts back as Halo lashes out with his sword, but unlike before, the man seems directionless and confused as he fights back. His swings are still brutal, deadly, but the precision from earlier is gone.

Tommy’s baton parries yet another thrust of Halo’s sword, metal striking metal, and the blonde twists his grip, ripping the sword from Halo’s hands. He kicks it away before the villain can react, adrenaline pumping as he strikes Halo again. Clawed hands catch the baton, ripping it out of Tommy’s hands and throwing it away, the sound of the metal staff skittering across pavement grating against his sensitive ears as he dodges a punch. 

There’s a strangled gasp from behind him and Tommy looks back, fists clenching at the sight of Ranboo watching them, his hands weakly clutched over his side. He’s vulnerable- too vulnerable- and an inhuman fury grips Tommy as he turns and throws himself at Halo.

The man stumbles back, eyes widening as he’s tackled. His head cracks against the pavement, the pain giving him no time to resist fingers wrapping around his bare throat. Halo screams wordlessly in rage, his clawed hands latching onto Tommy’s forearms and carving bloody lines down the exposed flesh. Tommy pays no mind to the burning pain or the hot blood rolling down his skin and over his fingers, eyes wide and unseeing as he reaches for Halo’s power and yanks as hard as he can.

The villain howls again, this time seeming in pain, his movements becoming more frantic as Tommy drains his shadows away with a force that’s anything but gentle. Tommy doesn’t let it phase him, gritting his teeth and keeping his hands locked around Halo’s neck even as he continues to gouge at the vigilante’s skin to ensure he can’t break contact for even a second.

As Halo’s power flows into Tommy the shadows around the villain begin to ebb away, the dark cloud under his hood retreating and leaving nothing but a normal- albeit enraged and demon-blooded- man. The lower half of his face is covered by a simple black mask, but his eyes- no longer mere pinpricks of light- are a sickly red, staring up at the blonde with a mixture of terror and loathing.

“You fucked up,” Tommy snarls, tightening his grip as the last of Halo’s powers transfer to him. The villain chokes, gasping for air, but Tommy doesn’t even have time to feel bad before he’s slashing at his face, apparently realizing that clawing at the blonde’s arms isn’t going to make him let go. The claws barely miss his skin as Tommy reels back and, still high on rage and instinct, punches the man across the jaw. He gets up before Halo can swipe at him again, ignoring the way the demon hybrid scrambles away as he rushes to Ranboo’s side.

“R- Ender? You okay?”

There’s no response from the ender hybrid so Tommy drops to his knees, swearing under his breath as he looks over his friend. At some point during the fight Ranboo must’ve passed out because his body is limp against the ground, hands resting lightly over the wound where they had been applying pressure before.

“Fuck,” Tommy hisses, shadows whipping around him as his tenuous control over Halo’s power flickers. He pulls down his sleeves with no regard towards his own injuries before sliding his hands under Ranboo and picking him up. The taller boy remains unresponsive throughout the movement, and a sharp stab of worry pierces through Tommy’s core.

(Unwillingly, his mind flashes to the Revive Book. If Ranboo is- if he can’t be saved, then the book is still there.)

(He prays that it won’t come to that.)

Home, Tommy’s mind screams, and in a flash shadows well up around him and swallow him whole. The next time he blinks he’s in the main room of the apartment and Tubbo is leaping to his feet with a surprised yell.

“Where the hell did you come from?!” Tubbo yelps, sparks dying down around his hands as he recognizes his friends. Then, overtaking the shock, is concern. “What happened to Ranboo?”

Stumbling forward, Tommy places the ender hybrid on the couch as gently as he can manage with his shaking limbs. “I- he-” the avian stops, draws a wavering breath, then redirects himself. “I’m going to grab the med kit.” 

He fumbles through the bathroom cabinet, adrenaline draining from his body along with the power and leaving only a sickly fear behind. When he returns to the living room he sees that Tubbo has pulled up a chair beside the couch, a determined look on his face as he takes the supplies from Tommy’s hands.

Luckily Ranboo’s suit is in two pieces, so it’s easy enough to remove his jacket and push up his shirt to expose the wound. Tubbo takes out some surgical thread and a needle, supplies that they wouldn’t have had before Tommy’s civilian-mode encounter with Archangel, along with alcohol wipes and bandages.

Tommy stands back and watches numbly as Tubbo begins to stitch up Ranboo’s wound- a skill that had come in handy many a time over Tommy’s months (and Tubbo and Ranboo’s years ) of being a vigilante. 

He feels useless- he hates feeling useless.

“While we’re here, do you have any injuries I should know about?” Tubbo asks after a few minutes of tense silence, finishing off his work by covering the now-stitched gash in dressings and restoring Ranboo’s shirt to its original position.

Tommy shakes his head and is glad for the red and black color scheme of his jacket.

At least the blood won’t show.

“Well, Ranboo will be okay,” Tubbo says, trying for a reassuring look. It’s not very convincing, especially not with the furrow of his brows or the next question he asks. “How did this happen?”

“Halo ambushed us. I don’t know why.”

“Halo did this?” Tubbo’s eyes are wide with shock. “Well, fuck. I thought he and his crew were one of the easy ones to deal with.”

Staring down at the floor, Tommy shudders at the memory of the pure dread that had overtaken him just before Halo’s appearance. “There was something strange about the way he was acting- it was unnatural, almost. The way he spoke and acted were completely different than usual.”

“Prime,” Tubbo mutters, “Well… I don’t want you or Ranboo going on patrol again until this all clears up. Especially not before he’s fully healed.”

“Don’t you worry, I’m not letting him out of my sight for at least a year,” Tommy weakly jokes, coaxing a little half-smile from the goat hybrid before they both turn to look at their unconscious friend. A long moment passes before Tubbo turns to the blonde again.

“Y’wanna take Ranboo to our room and we can all share the mattress tonight?”

Tommy agrees easily and carries Ranboo to the room, careful with how he arranges the tall boy’s limbs when he lays him down. He and Tubbo situate themselves on either side of him, the three crammed together with Ranboo safely in the middle.

Nobody will get to him now. Not with Tommy protecting him, not with Tubbo watching his back. Ranboo is safe.

Safe.

…

Tommy’s arms hurt.

Chapter Text

Tommy doesn’t get much sleep that night. He wakes up early in the morning after a short, fitful few hours of rest to a banging headache and the realization that he has work today. To make matters worse, the blonde’s sleeves pull painfully at his skin as he moves, giving him a sharp reminder of the wounds that the fabric sticks to.

With a heavy sigh, Tommy stretches and rolls out of bed, carefully sliding the covers back so as to not wake up his two roommates. When he turns to look at them, neither have moved, and a small puff of air pushes through his lips.

Even in sleep, they look exhausted.

Ever so gently he reaches out and pushes up the edge of Ranboo’s shirt just enough to see the bandages underneath- no blood. That’s a relief. Quietly as he can manage, Tommy replaces the shirt and the blankets back to their original positions and pads out of the room.

On his way out he pulls a dark purple shirt from Ranboo’s wardrobe, hoping that the color will hide any bloodstains in the events that his wounds reopen at work, and his own least-tattered pair of jeans. The cafe doesn’t have much of a dress code, the uniform solely consisting of an apron thrown on over your everyday clothes, so Tommy’s not expecting any complaints from Sam about his outfit.

Making his way to the bathroom, Tommy puts the clothes on the counter then pauses, looking down at himself. He’s still wearing his vigilante costume from yesterday, the fabric stiff and grimy from the fight against Halo. The sleeves are the worst part, stuck to his skin with dried blood, and as Tommy moves he comes to the unhappy realization that the wounds Halo had given him are fused to the inside of the fabric.

He grits his teeth and then rips the jacket off, the sharp sting of the cuts being reopened almost sending him to his knees. Blood begins to bead up along the edges of them, but he pays no mind as he turns the water on. Once he’s clean, then he can bandage himself up. Tommy showers quickly, mindful of both the dwindling hot water supply and his wounds.

After he’s finished, the avian looks himself over in the mirror. For lack of a better word, he looks like shit- eyebags so deep they almost look bruised, feathers tousled and out of alignment, not to mention the blood that’s once again starting to leak down his arms now that there’s no spray of water to wash it away.

With a scowl at nothing in particular, Tommy pulls down the first aid kit from where it had been haphazardly stored away and presses a cloth over his arms to hopefully stem the bleeding before he bandages them. He doesn’t wait for long, impatient and not wanting to be late for his shift, so he sloppily wraps bandages around both his arms, throwing on his clean set of clothes and burying the bloody cloth along with his vigilante uniform at the bottom of the laundry basket. His unpreened wings prickle uncomfortably under the borrowed shirt, but that’s the least of the blonde’s worries.

The journey to Sam’s Cafe passes Tommy by completely, and before he knows it he’s behind the counter taking orders and pouring out various hot drinks. The avian remains oblivious to the concerned stares his coworkers aim at his back, giving a polite smile to yet another customer whose order goes in one ear and out the other. At least the part of Tommy’s brain that’s on autopilot knows enough to make him write it down on his little notepad.

As he fumbles with the teapot, eyes hazy and ringed with exhaustion, Jack approaches him from the side. Tommy turns, giving Jack a frown when he sees the man staring at him.

“Are you okay, man? You’re acting weird,” Jack says not-so-tactfully.

“I’m fine.”

Jack stares harder. “You don’t look fine.”

“You callin’ me ugly?” Tommy jokes- not quite matching his usual exuberance, but still lightening the mood.

“Maybe,” Jack says with a mischievous grin, and Tommy rolls his eyes as he turns back to the brewing tea. His hands tremble as he lifts the pot to pour into a cup- was it always this heavy? Oblivious to the blonde’s struggle, Jack turns away as another customer approaches the counter.

“I’ve got it,” Niki says as she walks past, and Jack steps out of her way only to collide with Tommy, whose eyes widen as the pot full of hot tea topples from his hands.

“Fuck!” He yelps, fumbling to catch the teapot- a horrible mistake, he instantly realizes as it lands awkwardly between his arms, tea splashing over his arms and quickly soaking through his shirt, right to the poorly-wrapped cuts underneath. It normally wouldn’t be so bad, hell, he’s spilled drinks on himself before, but against the cuts it’s like liquid fire, making him want to crawl out of his skin just to escape it-

It takes a moment for Tommy to realize that the sharp cry of pain ringing through his ears is coming from him. He clamps his mouth shut, the impact of his knees hitting the ground jarring his entire body as he collapses.

“Tommy?!” Jack yelps in surprise as the blonde goes down. A second later Niki rushes to Tommy’s side, kneeling next to him to survey the damage.

“Go get Sam,” Niki says, her serious tone snapping Jack out of his panic. He rushes through the door to the back room without another word, sending a worried look over his shoulder as he goes. Tommy ignores it all, simply focused on catching his breath as he stares down at the tea-soaked floor.

“Are you okay?” Niki’s voice dips to something gentler, soothing- as she speaks, she briefly stands to grab a towel and starts mopping up the spill. 

Tommy gives a strangled hum. “Sorry,” he manages after a moment, and Niki frowns.

“Don’t worry about the tea, alright? You’re more valuable than a spilled drink.” The pink-haired girl tries to lay a supportive hand on Tommy’s back, but he flinches away- he’d love the comfort, really, but his wings are right there- with a little hiss of pain when it jostles his damaged arms. Niki opens her mouth to say something more, but before she can speak Sam and Jack come bursting back into the main room of the cafe.

“Hey, Tom. Jack says you had a bit of a spill out here?” When Tommy just gives him a deadpan look and gestures to Niki’s cleaning efforts, Sam laughs. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious. Can you stand? If you’ll follow me to the back room, I can get any burns you might have sorted out.”

Tommy nods, taking the hand that Sam offers out and letting the man pull him to his feet. When they get through the door Sam gestures for him to sit on one of the chairs. A small first-aid kit rests on a table nearby.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with.” Sam turns and reaches out, and a half-hearted protest dies on Tommy’s lips as the green-haired man pushes up his sleeves. At the sight of the blonde’s arms, already sloppily patched with now-ruined bandages, Sam falters with furrowed eyebrows. As he unravels the tea-soaked bandages, his face slowly morphs from confusion to horror. “Oh, buddy… what happened here?”

“Um,” Tommy flounders for a second- he hadn’t bothered to think of a real excuse, hadn’t expected anyone to find out- “Cat. A cat… scratched me.”

Sam just stares at him for a moment. “A cat… did this?”

“I think it was feral. I don’t know, it was in some alley and- yeah.”

“Okay,” Sam says after a lengthy pause. “Well, I’m gonna see what I can do to patch you up, but we don’t have much in the way of first aid here. I can take you to the hospital if-”

“No hospital,” Tommy interrupts, cutting off Sam’s actually quite kind offer. He knows the creeper hybrid means well, but he can’t exactly afford that shit- not to mention the issues that may arise if they find out he’s been quite literally raised from the grave.

Tommy’s never actually been to a hospital, but he wouldn’t put it past them to have some kind of equipment that could detect that sort of thing.

“Alright, let me know if you change your mind.” Sam looks down, examining Tommy’s arms. “Well, it doesn’t look like you got burned too badly at least. I’ll focus on the cuts for now, but I think I have some burn cream laying around that we can use.”

With a quick warning and Tommy’s permission, Sam begins to gently dry some of the wounds that had begun sluggishly bleeding again thanks to the spill. His arms somehow look both worse and better than he expected- the gouges Halo left in his skin look hellish now that he’s seeing them in the light of day, but for all the pain the tea had inflicted on him, there’s hardly any burns to be found. Just a few patches of skin are more red and raw-looking than usual.

Really, Tommy’s lucky. Still, it’s a bit embarrassing to think of his reaction after the fact, especially now with the realization that the tea he spilled was not actually the scalding liquid he’d acted like it was. Niki and Jack must think he’s insane, screaming like that over a little hot drink.

Ah, well. Niki’s too nice to bring it up, and if Jack pokes fun at Tommy about it he can just fire back a joke about Jack’s bald head. (He doesn’t really expect Jack to give him shit for it, though, he’d seemed pretty concerned when Tommy had yelled.)

Tommy watches with an uncharacteristic quietness as Sam continues to tend to his wounds. The creeper hybrid sticks bandages over the wounds, protecting them from the elements before rubbing cream over the irritated skin that had been affected by the spill.

“Well, I think that’s the best we can do for now,” Sam says as he pulls away, looking vaguely unsatisfied with his handiwork. “You’re sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

Tommy nods, just a bit too quickly to be a casual response. “It’s fine.”

Sam hums. “Alright, if that’s what you want. I’m sending you home for now, though- do you have anyone I can call to pick you up?”

“I’m a grown man, Sam, I can get home on my own,” Tommy says with a slight scowl, ignoring the fact that he’s only eighteen on his forged documents- what Sam doesn’t know can’t hurt him. 

“Of course, but I don’t want to send you out into the city alone and injured.”

That makes sense, Tommy begrudgingly admits to himself. “Fine. I guess you can call-” Tubbo and Ranboo immediately come to mind, but… Ranboo’s still injured worse than Tommy is, and Tubbo needs to take care of him. “My friend Will?” Tommy’s not actually sure if Will’s even available, much less willing to pick up his stupid friend who managed to get hurt at a cafe of all places, but it’s worth a shot.

Sam, to his credit, doesn’t look surprised- not that he should be, with how often Will hangs around Tommy and by extension the store. “Alright, I’ll give him a call.” Tommy opens his mouth in confusion, but Sam is already pulling out his phone and selecting a contact.

Huh. Guess Sam is closer friends with Will than Tommy thought.

As the blonde sits and swings his legs idly, Sam talks into the phone. He’s not really listening, occasional snatches of conversation about ‘arms are pretty banged up’ and ‘needs a new shirt to change into’ filtering through his ears. The call ends, Sam tells him Will will be here in a few minutes, and Tommy waits.

When Will finally arrives, it’s in a flurry of concern bursting into the back room without so much as a knock on the door. Honey-brown eyes dart around until they finally land on Tommy, his shoulders slumping in relief at the sight of the boy.

“Hey, Toms,” Will says, voice much calmer than his initial demeanor had been. “Having a rough day, huh?” Tommy just hums in vague agreement, eyes focused on the fabric folded in Will’s arms. The brunet seems to realize what he’s looking at, because he unfolds the fabric and holds it out, revealing a clean, dark green shirt.

He hands it to Tommy without further discussion, leaving the blonde to turn the soft fabric over in his hands. “Sorry it has wing holes in the back- I took one of Phil’s because I thought it’d be the closest to fitting you.”

Ah.

A hundred little excuses not to change run through Tommy’s mind all at once, then disappear. The tea soaked into his shirt feels gross, all cold and sticky drying against his skin, and he’s tired. What’s the point of hiding any longer?

(The avian ignores the fact that, if he were fully present in the moment, he would have already found a reason to keep his wings hidden. He’s just tired. So tired.)

“Thanks,” Tommy mumbles as he sets the shirt in his lap. He pauses, looking up at the other two men.

“Here- we’ll turn around so you can get changed,” Sam says. As soon as he and Will turn to face the wall, Tommy sheds his shirt and slips on the one Will brought, letting his wings push through the holes in the back. A sliver of hesitation takes hold as he looks up, but Tommy’s revulsion at the idea of putting the soiled shirt back on quickly overpowers it.

“I’m done.”

The two turn around, and Will’s softly-smiling expression is quickly overtaken by one of shock. “You have wings?!”

Sam doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes tells Tommy he’s just as surprised as Will is.

Tommy’s shoulders ride up to his ears as he hunches down unsurely. Finding himself unable to offer a verbal response, he just gives a tense nod. Will’s demeanor softens instantly.

“I mean, that’s okay! I was just surprised.”

Shooting a look that’s somewhere between amused and exasperated at Will, Sam nods. “You’ll never be judged for hybrid traits here, Tommy- and if you want to keep it private, you have the right to do so.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, voice small. “I-” There’s a pause, Sam and Will waiting patiently, but the sentence remains incomplete as Tommy just shakes his head. “Thanks.” Will waits for a second more, then steps back with an air of finality.

“Sam told me you said no hospitals, but would it be alright if I bring you to my house so Phil can take a look? He’s pretty good with first aid, y’know.”

Tommy presses his lips together, then nods. Gathering up Ranboo’s borrowed shirt, he mumbles a goodbye to Sam and joins Will. The brunet takes off his jacket and throws it over Tommy’s shoulders before they step through the door, understanding on some level the boy’s aversion to showing his wings.

The drive to Will’s house is a blur, the car window blissfully cool against Tommy’s forehead as he stares blearily at passing buildings. Will doesn’t speak, glancing worriedly at Tommy from the corner of his eye every so often.

By the time they arrive at Will’s house, Tommy’s lethargy has thankfully decreased. Phil appears in the doorway as they get out of the car, standing to the side and shooting Tommy a welcoming smile. “Hey mate, heard you had a bit of an accident at work?”

“Phil, ‘had an accident’ makes it sound like I’ve fuckin’ pissed myself,” Tommy says, finding that the car ride had restored just enough energy for him to joke around. “But yeah, spilled some hot tea all over my shirt.”

“And your arms,” Will cuts in, ushering Tommy to sit down on the couch. “Phil, could you get the first aid kit? Sam said he has some cuts that might need stitches, but he doesn’t want to go to a hospital.”

Phil gives a worried frown. “‘Course, I’ll be right-” He turns and walks behind the couch, only to suddenly pause when he glances over at Tommy. The boy turns in his seat, wings flaring slightly- oh.

“Oh,” Phil breathes, eyes glued to the feathers on Tommy’s back. Tommy can’t blame him- he’d be surprised too if someone he thought to be a wingless avian suddenly turned up with wings.

“Surprise?” Tommy says weakly.

Phil shakes his head, seemingly pulling himself out of some kind of birdbrain-induced stupor. “Ah- nice wings! They suit you well.” Then he makes a gesture towards the door. “I’ll… go and get the kit now.”

“Better get on it then, Birdza,” Will drawls from the other couch. Tommy blinks, confused as Phil leaves in a swirl of dark feathers.

“Birdza?”

“Yep,” Will hums, offering no further explanation.

“Alright,” Tommy says- brows furrowed, but with no energy to even try to find out where the - za bit of ‘Birdza’ came from. Will frowns, but before he can do anything Phil is rushing back into the room with entirely too many medical supplies bundled in his arms. He dumps them all on the coffee table, rolls of bandages, disinfectants, and countless other items taking over the surface. The man then sits and turns to Tommy.

“Before I do anything… What happened? I know what Will said, but I don’t have much information beyond that.”

Tommy’s shoulders tense as he tells them the same excuse he’d given Sam. “Some feral-ass cat got me- scratched my arms all up. Shouldn’t have tried to pick it up, I guess… Then I spilled hot tea on them at work, and now I’m here.”

Neither of the other two men look particularly convinced, Will glancing to the side while Phil presses his lips together in disbelief but doesn’t press. “Will, why don’t you go and put Tommy’s shirt in the wash while I take a look at these?”

Will nods, gathering up the tea-sodden shirt and leaving the room. Phil gestures for Tommy’s arms, prompting the blonde to roll up his sleeves and offer out the wounded limbs. They’ve stopped bleeding, thanks to Sam’s care and the passage of time, but as Phil carefully removes the bandages it becomes clear that they still need proper attention.

Phil hisses through his teeth. “Sam was right, a few of these definitely need stitches.”

“Aren’t the bandages enough?” Tommy tenses at the idea- he’s no stranger to getting stitches, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it.

“Maybe, but they don’t hold the wounds together like stitches do,” Phil explains, looking up at Tommy. “Of course, if you don’t want stitches you don’t have to get them. It might be a good idea, though.”

Tommy’s shoulders slump. “No, I agree with you. I just- ugh, needles, y’know?”

Phil hums sympathetically. “I have some numbing cream that I can give you beforehand so it doesn’t hurt.” When Tommy nods Phil grabs the tube from the first-aid kit, then sets about disinfecting Tommy’s arms. It stings, of course, but the younger avian barely flinches at the sensation. Phil works quickly, and in what seems like no time he’s readying a needle and thread while the numbing cream along the edges of the deeper cuts takes effect.

“Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Without further ado, Phil picks up the needle and brings it to Tommy’s arm. Tommy sucks in a breath, apprehensive, but the older man’s word remains true and the needle doesn’t hurt- there’s just a strange pressure as the thread is pulled through his skin. Still, an anxious warble slips past his lips, and Phil croons soothingly in reply. Something in Tommy’s brain instantly relaxes at the noise, letting out a few more peeps that Phil responds to with his own noises.

At some point Will returns to the living room, because Tommy’s peeping is interrupted by a soft snort from across the room. Will sits down on the other couch with an amused smile on his lips. “Really, Phil? I leave for two seconds and you two are already in full bird mode.” By the tone of his voice, the brunet is clearly trying for levity but his underlying anxiety is betrayed by his posture and the way his gaze flits between his phone and Phil’s hands that continue to thread Tommy’s wounds.

Tommy whines, a little offended by the teasing- it’s not his fault he’s never been chirped at before. The noise makes Phil pause, giving the boy a concerned frown. “I’m sorry fledgling, did I hurt you?”

The fledgling- why does that word make his brain fuzzy?- shakes his head, holding still as Phil goes back to tending his wounds. After another few minutes the last of the deeper cuts are finally closed, bandages wrapped neatly over them by Phil’s expert hands. The shallow ones have already been cared for, thanks to Sam, so they don’t need any further attention before being covered.

Relieved now that the ordeal is finally over, Tommy pulls away from Phil and tugs the sleeves of his borrowed shirt back down over his wrists. His wings fluff out as he adjusts, drawing Phil’s eyes to the movement. The man pauses in packing up his medical supplies, eyebrows drawing downwards in a quizzical expression as his eyes trace over the small appendages.

“Hey, Tommy… How old are you, exactly?”

Tommy immediately understands where the question comes from- most avians, at least those who are lucky enough to get wings, grow in their new limbs around twelve years old. Tommy’s wings are significantly behind in this regard, having only emerged as a result of the revival book’s magic rewriting his very DNA. To put it simply: his wings came in several years later than they would have if he’d been born an avian.

Most avians Tommy’s age would have wings that are nearly full-grown. Tommy does not.

“I’m almost seventeen,” he says, deciding on telling part of the truth. “My wings just came in late.”

Surprisingly, Phil just gives an understanding nod. “Sorry for just asking out of nowhere, that was rude of me. My wings were actually a bit late too, so I know it can get frustrating.”

“‘S okay,” Tommy mumbles, trying not to stare too blatantly at Phil’s wings. If someone with wings that cool- all gleaming feathers and huge wingspan- manifested them late too, then maybe not all hope is lost for the potential of his own. The short limbs shuffle behind him uncomfortably. Now that Tommy’s injuries aren’t at the forefront of his mind, he’s suddenly all too aware of how messy his feathers are.

Ignoring the other two men in the room, Tommy pulls a wing forward- as much as he can manage, anyway- and begins preening the bit he can reach, pushing feathers back into place. There are a few old feathers that are ready to come out poking him in the middle of his back, but every time the blonde reaches for one his fingers slip away before he can get a decent grip on it.

Several minutes of struggling pass before Phil clears his throat, Tommy jolting at the noise as he remembers his surroundings. “Do you want help?”

Tommy blinks, darting an unsure glance to Will who nods at him with a shit-eating grin. He looks back to Phil who, upon further inspection, has an almost… hopeful look in his eyes?

The younger avian has heard that preening is good for bonding, and it seems true enough judging off of his experiences with Tubbo and Ranboo. While he’d normally be a bit more reserved about potentially showing his instincts to Phil, the man’s already seen a bit of it while patching him up. 

(And yeah, maybe Tommy wants to indulge in his bird brain every once in a while. So what?)

Nevertheless, there’s no real reason to be afraid of Phil judging him- Phil wants to help- and Tommy already knows the worst Will can do is some light teasing.

“Sure,” Tommy agrees after thinking about it for probably a bit too long, and Phil’s face lights up.

“Great!”

Upon Phil’s instruction Tommy turns so his back is facing the man. He crosses his legs, holding one of the pillows from the couch in his lap to get more comfortable.

“You ready?”

Tommy nods, a minute flinch running through his body when he feels a hand on his wing. He relaxes moments later, the feeling of the first few feathers coming out sending relief rippling through his body. Phil is slow and methodical, and though Tommy can feel the instincts rising at the back of his brain he hasn’t quite fallen under.

“How did you hide these?” Phil asks suddenly, though his hands don’t falter. “You haven’t been binding your wings, have you?”

“No,” Tommy replies with a tiny chirp trailing off the end of the word. “Small enough that I can just… wear a baggy shirt and keep them folded. My roommates know, so I don’t keep them hidden all the time.”

Phil hums in reply and straightens a feather that had been bothering Tommy for ages, making the boy melt with a louder chirp. He replies with a low croon, one that has something in Tommy’s brain screeching safety.

A steady stream of chirps and coos pours from his mouth, and his eyes slip shut as Phil returns every one of his noises. Tommy’s wings practically feel brand new, every sift of Phil’s hands through his feathers making the fog in his head that much heavier. The job is done much sooner than Tommy would have liked, and he whines when Phil goes to move away.

“Oh, he’s lost in the sauce,” Will giggles as Tommy turns around and burrows into Phil’s arms, happy little peeps coming out as he makes himself comfortable against the older avian. The sound of Will’s voice makes Tommy’s eyes crack open, and he lets out another whine and reaches for the brunet.

“Think he wants you to join us, mate,” Phil says with an audible smile. To his credit, Will makes no complaint as he stands up and crosses the room to sit down near the two. He grunts in surprise when Tommy practically leaps on him, reaching up to mess with his hair.

“What’re you doing, gremlin?” Will doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer, what with how deep in his instincts Tommy is, but Phil steps in with a laugh.

“He’s probably trying to preen you,” he snickers, “I guess he thinks the best way for him to preen a human is by messing up your hair.”

“Aw,” Will coos, “Are you taking care of me, lovely?” He wraps his arms around Tommy, pulling the sleepy fledgling into a hug. The question’s only response is a series of quiet chirps. Tommy’s eyelids are too heavy to open now, and in the warmth surrounding him he can’t find any reason not to let sleep pull him under.

-

The first thing Tommy does when he wakes up is curse himself for falling asleep at someone else’s house.

What was he thinking? What if he had a Limbo dream? The idea of Will’s family finding him cold and unresponsive on their couch is mortifying- how would they even react to something like that? 

The only people Tommy ever wants knowing about his trips to Limbo are Tubbo and Ranboo.

He shifts and sits up, face flushing when he notices that the couch’s blankets and pillows are arranged around him in a suspiciously nest-like formation. Looking around, he can see that he’s alone in the living room- Ranboo’s newly cleaned shirt is folded on the table beside the couch Tommy is on, so he takes it and quickly slips it on, folding Phil’s borrowed shirt and putting it on the table instead. He does the same with the blankets, folding them and draping them over the back of the couch, and arranges the pillows in a hopefully pleasing formation.

Finally, Tommy gets up. There are muffled voices coming from the kitchen, getting louder as he approaches.

“-cat excuse is bullshit, surely.”

Tommy freezes just outside of the doorway.

“I hate to say it, but…” Phil’s voice floats towards Tommy’s ears. “Do we know if his mental health is… good..?”

“Don’t even go there, Phil,” Will says, voice tight. “It can’t- I’m not thinking about that. Someone else must've done this to him, I know it.”

“Who would do this, though?”

“I don’t know- he lives in the lower districts, you know people get mugged all the time over there. Maybe he just lied about it so we wouldn’t worry as much. And- maybe whoever hurt him was some kind of clawed hybrid. That would explain the nature of the wounds, right?” He’s starting to sound desperate now, making Tommy shift uncomfortably. He’s never heard Will like this before, without his usual confidence and surety. 

Guilt pangs through the blonde at eavesdropping, but before he can back away Phil is talking again.

“It would,” Phil concedes. “Will… regardless of how he got hurt, Tommy is going to be okay. He’s safe with us- and we both know we’ll do everything we can to help him.”

“I know, I just…” Will’s voice is small, hushed as he continues. “He shouldn’t be hurt in the first place. What good am I as a hero if I can’t even protect the people I love?”

Hero.

Tommy stiffens, limbs locking with fear even as a long-buried voice in the back of his head cries out in joy.

Love. People I love.

The cold feeling in his gut battles the warmth in his chest, making a disgusting mess of Tommy’s emotions. He takes a tiny step back, then another, all too aware of every noise he’s making in the otherwise-quiet house.

The floor creaks. Loudly.

Fuck.

Phil’s voice cuts off from where he’d been quietly soothing Will. “Tommy? Is that you?”

Shoulders stiff, Tommy steps into the doorway of the kitchen. “Uh… ‘ow do?”

“How much of that did you hear?”

Tommy hesitates. Neither Phil nor Will look angry, but he’s still been caught eavesdropping. “The- uh-” He stumbles over his words, the admission doesn’t come easily but at this point it’s better to be honest. (Besides, something tells him they already know. It’s one thing to lie, and another thing entirely to lie to someone who knows you’re not being truthful.) “The thing about being a hero..?”

“Okay,” Phil sighs. “Will, do you want to..?”

Nodding, Will turns to look at Tommy. “This is probably going to come as… a bit of a surprise, to say the least, but- I’m Rhapsody. I work as a hero for the Powered Protection Agency.”

Tommy swallows harshly, pushing down the urge to run all over again. Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck. Will is Rhapsody, of all the heroes he could be why does it have to be Rhapsody- “That’s… cool.”

Will gives him a concerned look. “Okay, you’re definitely freaking out.”

“I’m not!” At Phil and Will’s skeptical stares, Tommy scrambles for a strong enough excuse. “It’s just… a lot.”

And it is a lot. Will’s admission to being Rhapsody is opening a lot of doors that Tommy doesn’t want open, like how Phil’s wings looking exactly like Archangel’s might not be so much of a coincidence, and where does that leave Techno, with his pink hair so similar to Blade’s?

Will is Rhapsody. A hero. He'll hate me if he finds out who I really am. 

Tommy’s face crumples at the thought before he can stop it, but Will seems to take it a different way. He leans in, voice uncharacteristically serious as he speaks. “Tommy, I want you to know that we only kept this from you for your own safety- not because we don’t trust you or anything like that. Hero work is incredibly dangerous.” 

Tommy nods, he knows that, but Will’s not done. “Promise me you won’t get too involved with it, okay? I don’t want you hurt again.”

A bit late for that, Tommy thinks hysterically. He’s been involved with the hero world since long before he met Will. Since before he was even revived, before he woke up with wings and powers and a memory that could no longer be trusted.

‘Red’ was born the moment Tubbo and Ranboo had put on their masks. He was awoken when Tommy, clear-headed for the first time since his revival, had told his friends that he wanted to join them as a vigilante. And poor Tubbo and Ranboo, who’ve been through so much because of him, had agreed to train him without a second thought- so happy just to hear his voice again after nearly a month of silence and empty stares. As long as Tommy stays alive, he can have anything he wants.

“Okay, Will,” he says, swallowing down the painful thoughts. Then he looks at Phil. “So if he’s Rhapsody, does that mean you’re..?”

Phil nods with a wry smile. “You could say it’s a bit of a family business.”

“Techno too?” Tommy already knows the answer, but still seeks confirmation for what he’s figured out- some desperate attempt for reason, maybe.

“Mhm. My wife- their mother- is too, but…”

A vague memory of Will’s melancholy expression comes to mind, and Tommy’s eyes unwittingly flick to one of the pictures on the wall. A dark-haired woman smiles back from behind the frame.

“She’s, ah…” Tommy falters, wracking his brain for the name of the fourth hero to the famous quartet, “Lady Death?”

Both Will and Phil nod at that. A short silence falls over the room- the urge to ask what happened is almost too strong to bear. Will ends up taking mercy on him.

“I think I already told you, but she’s in a coma right now- power overuse.”

“She’s- I’m sorry,” Tommy says, and he really is. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine.” Will glances over to his father. “Unless- It doesn’t bother you if I explain, does it?”

Phil just nods, though with a rueful twist to his mouth. “Go ahead, mate.”

“There was an… incident, a while ago- you probably saw it on the news,” Will begins, turning back to Tommy. The blonde just nods, though he doesn’t remember what was on TV yesterday, much less however long ago the report Will’s talking about was, but he doesn’t dare interrupt. “Well, I ended up getting hurt pretty badly during a team mission. My mum, Kristin, she’s a healer, and she used her power to save me. Used too much of her power. I think my heart actually stopped for a minute or two before she brought me back- sent her right into a coma. She’s been in the PPA’s private hospital since.”

Will pauses, eyes fixed to the ground. Even though he doesn’t say it out loud, self-blame radiates off the man so powerfully that Tommy can almost taste it. There’s a fraught moment where no one speaks, and Phil shifts in place like he wants to go to Will only to stop when the brunet huffs out a humorless laugh.

“It’s the reason I have this lighter piece in my hair,” he says, gesturing to his head. “Meeting you actually helped me stop being so insecure about it.” At Tommy’s confused look, Will clarifies. “I mean, if someone bleached their hair this way then it must be cool, right?”

“Cooler than yours,” Tommy says, opting to play along. If Will wants to believe his white streak is a cosmetic choice, well… he's certainly not going to tell the man otherwise.

The faint, amused gleam in Will’s glassy eyes tells him he’s done something right. “You never stop being a gremlin, do you?”

“I am not a fucking gremlin, you bald ass bitch!”

“Oh, you’ve wounded me!” Will cries, his still-teary eyes only adding to the dramatic effect. “And to think I just poured my heart out to you!”

“Even exchange, you guys get to see my wings, I get to hear your tragic backstory.” 

Will blinks, and for a moment Tommy thinks he’s gone too far until a snicker sounds out from beside them. “He’s got you there,” Phil laughs, and Tommy laughs with him. It’s almost alarming how easy it is to forget just who he’s talking to when the mood lightens and they seem just like any other civilian family.

Tommy’s smile wavers, and on a sudden whim he pulls out his phone and makes a show of checking the time. “As great as the free medical care has been, I should really get going before my roommates have a heart attack.”

“Just one heart attack? Like as a pair?”

“Yes, Will, two halves of the same heart attack. A true heart attack takes two. But for real, I’m leaving now.” 

Ignoring Will’s murmur of ‘That doesn’t even make sense’ , Phil speaks up. “I don’t think you should be making your way back home all by yourself, especially with being hurt and living on the other side of the city.”

Tommy’s shoulders slump. “What am I meant to do, then? I can’t mooch off you forever, even if you are the biggest man to exist.”

Phil smiles at him, lightly amused. “I’d drive you back myself, mate, but I’m meant to wait for Techno to get off work- just in case.” With the newfound knowledge of Techno being the one and only Blade, it’s understandable. He’s probably doing something insanely dangerous and badass that Phil has to make sure he doesn’t die from.

Will blinks. “Oh! I’ll drive you, Tommy.”

A bit of trepidation leaks into Tommy’s psyche. His excuse of going home was meant to escape the presence of the two heroes, not spend even longer with the man who recently tried to arrest him… even if he didn’t exactly know it was him.

But it’s a nice offer, and Phil is probably right. It’ll take all of two seconds for Tommy to get mugged if he walks home in his current state.

Processing the discovery of his friend’s secret identity will just have to wait for later, he supposes.

“Lead the way then, bitch.”

“I miss when you were being all sympathetic,” Will grouses, but lets him into the car all the same. The lighthearted atmosphere changes once they’re away from the house, and Tommy spends most of the ride staring silently through the window. When they pull up outside of Tommy’s apartment complex the younger boy is already halfway to unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car only to pause when Will reaches over and stops him.

“Woah, slow down for a second,” the brunet says, turning and pulling something out of his jacket pocket. “Here- I wasn’t sure if you had any at home, so…” He presses a tube of burn cream into Tommy’s palm. The blonde’s eyebrows raise slightly at the sight of the same package that Sam had used- he must’ve slipped it to Will as they left the cafe.

“Thanks.” Tommy shoves it into his own pocket. He doesn’t start moving again, though- staring down at his arms, still covered by bandages and the sleeves of Ranboo’s freshly-washed shirt. “My roommates-”

“You should tell them,” Will says simply. “It’s not gonna do you any good to suffer in silence.”

Tommy pauses, then nods in a single jerky motion.

“Alright, then. You can call me- or Phil, or Techno- if you need anything.”

“Bye, Will,” Tommy says in lieu of an agreement, because he loathes asking for help and despite the fact that he’s been trying not to show it, the revelation that Will’s entire family is made up of heroes does make him feel… odd.

(Odd, not scared. Not scared. If he tells himself enough times, maybe he’ll start to believe it.)

He gets out of the car before the brunet can say anything more, though the vehicle doesn’t leave until he’s safely trudged into the building. An exhausted haze fogs Tommy’s mind as he shuffles up several flights of stairs and slowly unlocks his door.

The apartment is silent at first, that is until the sound of the door shutting behind him announces his presence to the two within. There’s a short scuffle from the bedroom before both Tubbo and Ranboo emerge, and though the ender hybrid’s gait is slow and cumbersome Tommy feels a thrill of relief at the fact that he’s conscious and on his feet.

“There you are!” Tubbo exclaims. “Where’ve you been? Long day at work?”

After a second, Tubbo’s smile starts to dip into a frown. “Tommy?”

“I lied to you,” Tommy blurts. Not a good start. Tubbo’s frown deepens, and Ranboo lets out a confused warble.

“What?”

“I did get hurt. From Halo.”

“What?” Tubbo repeats, more urgent this time. “Where?”

“Arms,” he chokes out as Tubbo guides him to a chair and makes him sit down, “Phil already patched it up.”

“Show me,” Tubbo says, and Tommy immediately holds out his arms. Tubbo pulls up his sleeves, Ranboo anxiously peering over his shoulder as he looks at the neat dressings.

“You probably shouldn’t unwrap them,” Ranboo mutters. “Don’t wanna mess up the bandages.” Then the ender hybrid looks at Tommy, meeting his eyes with a worried gaze. “What happened?”

“It’s stupid,” Tommy mutters. “I just- you got hurt, and I wasn’t thinking right.”

“Go on,” Tubbo says, patient despite his almost frantic concern.

The blonde sniffs. “I took his powers.” He pauses, and his friends both nod- that’s the part that they already know. “I was just so mad, so I kinda… jumped on him? And, uh- choked him a little. He’s- y’know, I rolled up my sleeves just to make sure I’d be able to touch him, but he’s a demon hybrid, they’ve got claws, so he tore up my arms while I was doing it.”

“Tommy…” Someone says, and the boy flinches.

“I know it was a dumb move. I just wanted to protect Ranboo.”

“Tommy, it’s okay.” Ranboo lays a steady hand on his shoulder, and Tubbo gently pulls his sleeves back into place.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” The goat hybrid asks then, and in the face of their compassion Tommy can’t help but feel awfully silly for keeping his pain to himself.

“Ranboo was hurt worse. I didn’t want to make the burden even heavier on you, Tubbo, not for something I could deal with myself.”

Tubbo frowns. “You know you’re never a burden, Toms.”

Tommy just hums a neutral tone, and after a breath Ranboo redirects the subject. “You said Phil helped you?”

“Yeah, I may have gotten a teeny bit burned at work when I spilled hot tea all over my arms, and Sam ended up calling Will for me because I still didn’t wanna bother you guys. He took me to his house because Phil apparently has a huge first-aid kit.”

His friends just stare at him, bewildered. “You got burned, on top of an injury you already had, and you still didn’t think to tell us?”

The blonde just shrugs miserably. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no- you don’t need to be sorry, just…” Tubbo sighs. “This can’t happen again, Tommy. We’re a team for a reason.”

“I know,” Tommy whispers. “It won’t.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” 

Tubbo gives him a searching look, apparently finding whatever he’s looking for in Tommy’s gaze as his posture relaxes. “Okay.”

“Well,” Ranboo says, giving Tommy’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before drawing away, “I don’t know about you guys, but that’s enough excitement for me today.”

“That’s enough excitement for me this year,” Tommy mumbles tiredly, drawing agreeing laughter from the other two. “Imma go to bed.”

“Share the mattress again?” Ranboo suggests, and Tubbo nods fiercely while Tommy just hums in agreement.

“I need to get in even more comfort cuddles now that I have two injured best friends,” Tubbo announces, leading the way to the bedroom. “You’re not gonna escape until you’re well past healed.”

The three settle in, being much more careful than usual due to Ranboo and Tommy’s fragile state. It’s only after he’s laid down between his friends, eyes squeezed closed, that Tommy remembers a very important detail.

“Wait,” the blonde says and sits up, drawing Ranboo and Tubbo’s attention to himself once again. “There’s something else I need to tell you about Will and Phil…”

Chapter Text

Will is calling…

Tommy blinks, then pulls out his phone with a furrowed brow. Vague anxiety thrums through him at the caller ID, a sigh pushing from his lips as he stares at the screen.

Tubbo leans over his shoulder, squinting at the cracked screen. “You gonna answer that?” 

The call rings out before Tommy can make a decision and the phone goes back to the home screen, notification badges revealing that he has several unread texts from Will.

“It’s only been a few days since I talked to him. I don’t know what the big deal is.”

Tubbo raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Maybe it’s because you normally talk to him every day when he goes to Sam’s Cafe to see you? And you guys are constantly texting and hanging out on your days off?”

Tommy stares back at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t like how much sense you’re making right now, big man.”

“I’m just saying. You should answer him, it’ll be fine.”

Tommy just shrugs in response, turning back to his phone. As the blonde presses the home button, another text rolls in- surprisingly not from Will this time, but from Phil. He pulls down on the notification, looking at the preview of the message.

‘Hey mate, just wanted to check in. Your stitches healing okay?’

“See?” Tubbo points out, jabbing a finger at the screen. Tommy glares at him and tilts the phone away, but it does nothing to dissuade the brunet. “They’re worried about you! What’s the harm in at least texting them back?”

Maybe a few months ago, Tubbo would’ve been in full agreement with Tommy’s decision to… ‘limit contact’ with the small family he’s grown so close to. Both he and Ranboo had grown a huge overprotective streak after Tommy’s death and revival, something that had only begun to abate when the blonde rejoined society and started doing things on his own again.

As it is now, both boys seem determined to play mediator in Tommy’s self-inflicted problem. Something about ‘Cutting off your close friends like this isn’t good for you, Tommy, maybe you should talk it out with them-’ and ‘Seriously, we love you but it’s more healthy if you have other friends too-’

As if. Tommy isn’t avoiding them, he’s just… being cautious. It’s odd being the responsible one for once, since Tubbo and Ranboo seem convinced that Phil, Will, and Techno would never hurt him. They don’t even know the guys, all they have to go off of is what Tommy’s told them!

(Which is, admittedly, probably far too much. Prime knows there are days when Tommy just can’t shut up about the funny thing Will said, or the cool new thing Techno showed him, or the million awesome things he can name about Phil.)

“What happened to avoiding the heroes at all costs, huh?”

“They don’t know you’re a vigilante, Toms,” Tubbo says with an exasperated voice, “And clearly they care about and trust you if they admitted they were heroes instead of trying to make some excuse for what you overheard.”

Tommy just shrugs and turns away. Rationally speaking, Tubbo is probably right… but Tommy has never been much for being rational. He makes a show of checking his newly unbandaged arms instead of replying, slumping in his position on the couch in boredom.

It’s one of those days where all three of the boys are off of work, though Tommy and Ranboo’s wounds are partially to blame for that- as well as Puffy’s continued absence from the auto shop. Sam had ordered Tommy to take at least a week off to heal, reassuring him that his job would still be there when he returned. 

Ranboo, on the other hand, has been using his paid sick days, but is set to return soon with some accommodations. Of course, he couldn’t exactly say why he needed those accommodations, so the ender hybrid had instead told his boss something about getting an emergency surgery, being purposefully vague about the details. Luckily Karl hadn’t asked many questions, merely wishing Ranboo a speedy recovery and making arrangements to move him to an area of the library where he won’t have to carry heavy boxes of books around.

The wounds are recovering fairly well, as much as they can be without the treatment of a hospital or a powered healer. Tommy’s pretty sure his stitches are nearly ready to come out, and Ranboo’s been moving around with relative ease. The ender hybrid has also been reporting very little pain, but that might just be him trying to make things easier on the other two boys. It’s something Tommy wishes he wouldn’t do, but he knows damn well he’s just as if not more guilty of the same thing.

The two of them also haven’t been on patrol since what they’ve dubbed the ‘Halo Incident’. Tubbo’s strictly forbidden it and, well… neither Tommy nor Ranboo want to cross him while he’s the only healthy one of the three. He’s already run himself ragged worrying about Puffy, trying to figure out what to do with her shop in the meantime, and trying to care for them- it’s the least they can do to stay in for now.

Something about the whole thing still rankles in Tommy’s brain, though. Despite being villains, the whole Badlands group has been fairly nonviolent towards vigilantes. That’s kinda their whole thing- sure, they hate the PPA and will use the full extent of their power when fighting government-contracted heroes, but they know the vigilantes are just trying to help the little guy. In all of their past encounters Tommy has always been the one to approach first.

Until now.

The ambush is unusual. Halo being alone is unusual. And him having such a sudden and violent change in demeanor can only be a sign of more bad things to come.

It’s not something the avian can solve right now, and he honestly doesn’t know where he would even begin to try. The injuries are an issue, and he doesn’t doubt that Tubbo will continue to make him hold off on patrol for a while after he’s fully healed. Ranboo will probably take even longer to heal. Puffy’s still gone, and Tubbo is busy taking freelance hacking gigs to keep his portion of the income rolling in while the shop is closed because he has no idea how to keep it running by himself or if Puffy would even want him to.

Not to mention Tommy’s birthday is in a few weeks. He’s not expecting much, but he knows Tubbo and Ranboo will be freaking out about it. The fact that he’d missed his sixteenth last year, still stuck in the numb haze that had rendered him useless for months post-revival, bothers them. They’ll want to make it up to him this year, even though it isn’t needed.

All the blonde is really hoping for is to be fully healed by then, and maybe to have a small cake or something like that. Tubbo and Ranboo will make it special enough just by being there, he’s sure.

…That was disgustingly sappy. 

Tommy’s face scrunches up, then smooths out as his train of thought redirects. He’s been staring at the blank screen of his phone for the past several minutes, he suddenly realizes. Tubbo is typing away on his laptop on the other end of the couch. Vaguely, he can hear Ranboo shuffling around in the bedroom. Other than that, there is absolutely… nothing going on.

“I’m bored.”

Tubbo only glances up for a second, too focused on his work now that he’s had a few minutes to get into it. “Alright.”

Tommy stares at him. “Bitch.”

Tubbo waves a dismissive hand around, still looking down at the laptop screen. “Man I dunno, go bother Ranboo or something. Or go on a walk, you could stand to get some sun.”

“I’m not that pale,” Tommy huffs, but he gets up and goes to put his shoes on anyway. “I’ll be back in like, an hour tops.”

“Okay,” Tubbo says. “Take your phone.”

Tommy holds up the device so Tubbo can see it and leaves without another word. Though his friend doesn’t want him going out as a vigilante, they agree that there should be no problems with his civilian form. Nothing about the blonde is particularly recognizable apart from the wings, and that’s exactly why he keeps them hidden.

A few minutes into the walk Tommy’s decided to make the trek to Sam’s Cafe. He’s not supposed to be working, sure, but Sam never said anything about him coming in as a customer. Tommy’s never been able to say no to a sweet treat, after all.

A few more minutes into the walk Tommy gets an odd, prickling feeling along the back of his neck. A sense of deja vu washes over him in the way that it only ever does when something reminds him of his life pre-revival. Something tells him he’s being watched.

Tommy is not getting fucking mugged today, not when he’s just starting to feel better. He speeds up as he nears the edge of district seven and practically sprints past every alleyway he sees.

Another few minutes later the prickling feeling is gone. The eyes leave the back of his head somewhere around the edge of district six and by the time Sam’s Cafe is nearby, Tommy is beginning to think he imagined the whole thing. The avian is safe (he thinks, at least) so he walks into the store with an only slightly-forced grin on his face and greets Niki at the counter.

“Tommy!” She exclaims, looking equal measures pleased and surprised to see him. “It’s so good to see you!” Her expression turns to something more stern, although she still has a lighthearted air about her. “You better not be here to work, mister. Sam said you have the week off.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to use my employee discount,” Tommy says, peering at the display case of pastries. “Which one’s your favorite?” He’s tried most of them before, of course, but he still finds himself wracked with indecision.

“The cinnamon roll is always a good choice,” Niki supplies. Tommy blinks up at her with a grin.

“I’ll have one of those, then.”

The cinnamon roll is a good choice- it’s perfectly fluffy and warm, because Niki made sure to give him one of the freshest ones (she’s the best ) and a decent size too. It’s bigger than Tommy’s hand, which is saying something because he’s a lanky little shit.

He tears off a piece of cinnamon roll and tosses it into his mouth, strolling casually down the sidewalk. He’s not in a hurry now that whoever was watching him seems to have fucked off, and he fully intends to take his sweet time getting home.

His plan is thoroughly derailed when he hears a high-pitched, squeaky noise from the mouth of an alleyway. A meow.

The blonde stops short and turns, eyes narrowed as he peers into the darkness. His vision adjusts pretty quickly, and there’s no obvious source of the noise to be seen. He steps closer.

Meow!

Tommy jolts, wings fluffing up under his shirt as he looks around frantically before his eyes catch on something moving near the ground.

Oh.

“Oh, hello,” Tommy coos, eyes going big and soft all at once when he sees the source of the meows. “Who are you?”

A tiny kitten with black fur looks up at him, half-hidden by a dumpster. The blonde kneels, holding out his free hand to beckon the cat closer. After a moment it approaches him, ears pinned back uncertainly as it sniffs his fingers. Whatever it finds there is acceptable, it seems, as the kitten butts the top of its head into Tommy’s palm.

Tommy smiles as he pets the kitten, taking the opportunity to look it over. There aren’t any visible injuries but it’s skinny, tangled fur showing that it’s been on the streets for a while. He narrows his eyes at the thin limbs before giving his cinnamon roll a considering glance.

“You hungry, buddy?”

The kitten mews indignantly when he pulls his hand away, but it quickly perks up when it catches the smell of food. Tommy laughs. “Hold on a second, I have to make sure you can eat it.” He pulls out his phone, and after a quick Google search deems the cinnamon roll safe enough- or at least, the little piece he tears off won’t hurt his new friend. 

The morsel is gone in mere seconds and the kitten immediately starts looking for more, making Tommy pull away regretfully and put the cinnamon roll back in its bag. “Sorry, I don’t wanna make you sick.” The avian stands, the kitten weaving between his feet to rub its head against his legs. 

He should be leaving, probably, but… the cat is so cute. And little. And it’s alone. 

(Alone like he would’ve been, if it weren’t for Tubbo and Ranboo.)

Shaking his head furiously, Tommy bends down and scoops the kitten up with a hand around its middle. “Bet there’s something at home you can eat, though!”

Big golden eyes blink slowly back at him and Tommy melts. “I’m gonna name you Shroud,” he declares, then sets off back to the apartment he calls home.

When he calls Tubbo and Ranboo into the living room and holds up the kitten, their expressions quickly go from confusion to shock.

“Where did you find them?” Ranboo asks, taking the cat in gentle hands and petting it while Tubbo shakes his head and mutters something about ‘I leave you alone for an hour and you go and find a kitten, how am I even surprised anymore-’

“I heard it meowing from under a dumpster,” Tommy says. “Loud little fucker, I’ll give it that. I named them Shroud and they’re my new best friend.”

The kitten is in Tubbo’s hands now, and he examines it briefly before handing it back to Tommy. “Congratulations, it’s a girl.”

“Aw, my little baby daughter,” Tommy coos, scooping Shroud close to his chest as she purrs. “Princess of the dumpster.”

“She’s probably full of fleas, you know that, right?” Tubbo points out.

Tommy narrows his eyes. “We can wash her, Tubbo, we’re not savages.”

“Maybe we should feed her first?” Ranboo suggests. “I mean, that way if she gets messy with food we don’t have to wash her twice.”

They quickly come to the conclusion that Ranboo is right. Tommy gets up to go grab the spare can of tuna that he knows has been sitting in the back of one of their cabinets, but Tubbo scrambles to his feet before he can. “I’ll get it!”

Tommy’s brow is furrowed in confusion, but he nods and when Tubbo opens the cabinet he can see the flash of a poorly-wrapped present before the brunet shoves it behind an old cereal box. A smile tugs at his lips- seems he was right to suspect his friends would want to do something for his birthday this year. He wonders what Tubbo might have built him.

Shroud is very enthusiastic about her meal and despite her objective cuteness the trio all end up with similar expressions of disgust as bits of fish fly everywhere and stick to Shroud’s fur. The kitten is less enthusiastic about her bath, but she’s cooperative as she gets soaked in water and Tommy picks the fleas off her head. Soon enough she’s fed, cleaned, and dry, and the boys move to the couch. 

Tommy idly plays with the cat, wiggling his fingers at her as she lays in his lap. “So what now?”

Tubbo sighs. “I… don’t think we can keep her.”

“I- yeah, Tubbo’s right.” Ranboo doesn’t look pleased to be saying it. “We won’t be able to afford it if any vet bills come up… and that’s not to mention getting her spayed and all the food and stuff she’ll need.”

Tommy stares down at Shroud silently- a moment passes before his shoulders slump, utterly resigned. “Yeah. And there’s a pet fee for this apartment, isn’t there?” He sniffs.

“Oh, Tommy…” Tubbo frowns. “Don’t be sad. We’ll make sure she goes to a good home.”

“I know,” Tommy says, blinking hard before looking up. “Do you two know anyone who’s in the market for a pet?”

Ranboo purses his lips. “I mean, there’s Karl, but he already has too many pets.”

“Puffy probably would if I had any clue where she is, but- well.” 

“I’d feel kinda weird trying to pawn off a cat on my coworkers.”

Silence falls over the trio, and they all stare at each other for a moment.

“We know… a pathetically small number of people, don’t we?” Tubbo eventually says.

Tommy’s phone buzzes with another text.

“Maybe…” He says, “I could see if Will’s family would take her.”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Ranboo says with a somewhat-forced enthusiasm. “How about you give them a call?”

“Uh…” Tommy hesitates. “I think a text will be fine.”

He ends up deciding to contact Techno, the only one who wasn’t there when Tommy found out about their true identities and the only one who hasn’t been texting Tommy nonstop like a lunatic.

(That may or may not be an exaggeration. Phil did only text him the one time, after all. Will, on the other hand…)

Logically, Tommy already knows that Techno is a hero too, more specifically Blade, but it helps that he hasn’t had any negative interactions with Blade. Unlike Rhapsody, Blade has been uninterested in apprehending Tommy’s vigilante alter ego.

It’s his best bet. He opens his phone.

Tommy: hey techno. sorry if this is out of nowhere but do you guys want a cat? i found a kitten and i don’t think me and my roommates will be able to keep her

Tommy: [Attachment: 3 images]

Techno: hey tommy

Techno: sure, will and phil are suckers for small animals

Tommy: great

Tommy: if you want to take her now we can meet up at the park

Techno: give me an hour, i’ll be there

“Well, Techno said they’ll take her.” Tommy holds up Shroud a bit dramatically. “Say your last goodbyes to this lovely creature.”

“You make it sound like she’s dying,” Tubbo complains, but he still takes the opportunity to snuggle Shroud close. They spend the next half-an-hour taking turns holding her, the kitten in a half-asleep state of contentment. All too soon Tommy has to leave, and the trio find themselves lingering by the entrance of the apartment.

“They probably won’t mind letting us visit her sometimes, though I guess you guys would have to actually meet them first,” Tommy is saying. “I’m sure Will will send me hundreds of photos of her either way.”

“I hope so,” Tubbo says and runs a hand down Shroud’s fur before handing her to the blonde. “Shroud, it has been an honor.”

Tommy holds the kitten up as if she’s speaking. “Likewise, Sir Tubbo,” he says in a comically deep voice, drawing a laugh from the goat hybrid. He turns to Ranboo, still holding Shroud aloft. “You wanna say bye?”

“Goodbye, Shroud. I love you.” Ranboo kisses Shroud on the forehead, pauses, then does the same thing to Tommy- much to the blonde’s displeasure and Tubbo’s amusement. He steps back, sticks his tongue out at the ender hybrid, and opens the door. 

“Bye, fuckers!” Tommy flees before the farewell can get any more embarrassing or emotional.

Techno isn’t at the park yet when he arrives, but he doesn’t have to wait for long. Shroud seems to enjoy watching the water splashing around in the fountain at the center of the park, and sits calmly in Tommy’s arms even as passerby coo over her. She’s so focused that she barely reacts when Techno approaches them, only looking up when Tommy turns to greet him. “Hey, Techno.”

“Hey, kid. I’m assumin’ this is the cat you told me about?”

Tommy nods, holding the kitten so she’s more visible. “Her name is Shroud.”

Techno reaches out, letting Shroud sniff his fingers before petting her. “She’s cute.”

“Yeah. I found her in an alleyway, figured she was a stray so I took her home. Our apartment has a pet fee that we can’t really afford on top of the normal rent, though, so we decided to see if anyone else could take her.” The avian decides to leave out the fact that the pet fee isn’t the only expense they wouldn’t be able to afford, though he’s sure Techno at least suspects that there’s more to the story.

The piglin hybrid listens patiently as Tommy continues to explain about the cat, nodding along with his words. The conversation peters out quickly when he runs out of things to say, however, and the two are left with an awkward silence.

Techno shifts, then clears his throat. “Look, uh… Tommy. I know I’m not great at sayin’ this kind of stuff, so bear with me here. You know about Phil, Will, and I’s profession now. I assume that’s why you’ve been avoiding those two. I want you to know, though, that this doesn’t change anything. We’re still the same people, and we’re still your friends. All three of us care for you.”

Tommy stares at him in awe, lost for words before he finally manages to get out a small “Oh. That’s really nice.”

“I, uh-” Techno looks away, embarrassed. “Just thought I should make it clear.”

“Thanks, Techno,” Tommy says with a soft smile. “Do you, uh- that is, could I maybe know more about it, though? I’m kinda curious.” He makes sure to leave the word ‘hero’ out of his question, considering he doubts Techno wants his identity revealed to random members of the public. His suspicion is proved correct when Techno glances around before answering him in a low voice.

“Sure, but we’ll be better off talking about it in private. You could come with me to take Shroud to the house, if you want. Will will be excited to see you.”

“Alright,” Tommy agrees, a lot more at ease after Techno’s reassurance. He’s mildly surprised when Techno leads him to a car- for some reason, he’d pictured the pink-haired man walking to the park despite the fact that he lives several districts away.

Once they’re on the road, Shroud nestled in Tommy’s lap, Techno speaks again. “So what exactly did you want to know?”

Tommy shrugs. “I have a few questions, I guess. When I found out about your identities, Phil said you were at work- so does that mean you were on a mission?” Techno nods. “So when you guys have mentioned work before, you were referring to being heroes.”

“Exactly,” Techno confirms.

“So, then- sorry if this is weird to ask, but that one time we were at the park with Will, and you two were talking about a coworker acting strange, that was about another hero?”

Techno frowns. “You remembered that?”

Tommy shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s just been on my mind.” He’s not about to say why- a hero suddenly acting weird is worrying news for a vigilante- so he’ll just hope Techno assumes his concern is coming from a civilian standpoint.

“Well, it was, but I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. Blaze- the coworker we were talking about- doesn’t patrol the lower districts, so it’s unlikely you’ll see him. I honestly don’t know him that well, so it could be nothing.”

“Oh.” Tommy isn’t quite satisfied with the answer, but the mention of the lower districts serves as a reminder for a different concern. “Another question- how come some of you guys seem to go out of your way to catch vigilantes, but others don’t?”

Techno takes the sudden topic change in stride. “I mean, I personally don’t see the point if the vigilante in question isn’t causin’ problems. The thing is that Mayor Schlatt funds the majority of the PPA, so we have to at least pretend we’re trying to catch the guys. He’s, ah… a bit annoying about it.”

A sliver of apprehension pierces through Tommy’s calm facade, and he tries not to visibly pull back. “…Schlatt’s your boss?” Escape plans are already starting to crowd his head- if Techno and his family are in any kind of close contact with the mayor, Tommy has to cut them off as soon as possible. (He will not let Schlatt find Tubbo. His friend suffered enough being raised by that man.)

“Nah,” Techno drawls, and once again Tommy has to stop himself from having a visible reaction- one of relief this time- at the words. “He doesn’t give direct orders or anything like that. Just likes to ‘check in’ every once in a while to see if he’s gettin’ his money’s worth. The guy acts more like a shareholder than anything.”

“Oh, alright.” Tommy looks down at Shroud, his concerns having been addressed, and changes the subject. “Anyway, how’ve you been?”

The conversation continues on a benign, non-hero-related note for the rest of the car ride, and before Tommy knows it they’ve arrived at the Craft family’s house. The avian cups Shroud close to his body as he steps out of the car, glad for how calm the kitten has been throughout this whole ordeal. Any other cat would have tired of being held long before now.

“Just a warning, Will’s been missing you so he might-” The door flies open before Techno can finish his sentence.

“Tommy!”

The call of his name is all the warning Tommy gets before arms that he instinctively recognizes as belonging to Will wrap around him. The blonde tenses momentarily at the feeling of hands on his back- his wings- before remembering that Will already knows and relaxing into the man’s hold. He doesn’t return the embrace, arms still occupied by holding Shroud, but allows his head to fall forward and thunk against Will’s collarbone.

“Let him breathe, mate,” Tommy hears Phil say through a laugh. Shroud lets out a tiny mew, as if in agreement, and Will tenses against him with a muffled gasp before pulling back with wide eyes.

“Is that-?”

“Surprise?” Tommy meets Will’s gaze with a wry grin, holding the kitten up in front of him. “Her name is Shroud.”

Will just stares. Then blinks. After a good minute of what Tommy can only assume is his brain rebooting from a sheer cuteness overload, he turns to Techno with a lost look. “Techno, why is there a precious little baby kitten in my house?”

Techno shrugs. “You guys wanted a cat, right?”

“Did we?” Phil says with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not complaining, but I think I’d remember if that were the case.”

The exchange does nothing to quell Tommy’s hesitance. “You guys don’t have to take her if you don’t want to, I just- We can’t afford a cat and Techno said you’d be fine with it-”

“Hey,” Phil gently interrupts him, “Slow down, nobody’s mad, just a bit surprised. Why don’t you take it from the top?”

Feeling awfully silly, Tommy nods. “Yeah, I can do that. Uh… I was on a walk-” casually ignoring your attempts to contact me, he leaves out- “and I heard meowing from an alleyway. When I went to look I found Shroud and she was all alone so I took her home to feed and wash her- We wanted to keep her, me and my roommates, but we can’t really afford all the stuff pets need, so… I thought maybe you guys would be able to care for her?”

Will is still looking at Techno, eyebrows slightly raised. “And you agreed to that?”

“She’s pretty cute,” he admits, a small smile upturning the corner of his lips. “Besides, you’ve been begging for a cat for years.”

“Never thought I’d see the day it finally worked,” the brunet says with a triumphant glint in his eyes. He turns back to Tommy, visibly softening when he sees the kitten in Tommy’s hands staring up at him. “Can I-?”

Tommy holds Shroud up and closer to the brunet in lieu of a response. Will offers out a hand, letting the kitten sniff his hand before petting her. A surprisingly loud purr bursts from her as she presses her head into his hand, and Phil coos from across the room.

“Well,” the older avian says, one hand held over his chest in an adoring gesture, “She’s certainly a welcome surprise.”

A smile slowly makes its way onto Tommy’s face. “So you’ll keep her?”

“Eh, why not?” Phil says, the softness in his eyes offsetting the casual air of his words. “We’ll need to get some things for her, though.”

“Ah.” Techno perks up as if he’s just remembered something. “One second,” he says, then turns and walks out the front door. The other three watch in bemusement as he returns, now laden with several bags full of pet care supplies.

“The fuck-?” Tommy blinks in confusion. “Where did that come from?”

“It was in the back of the car,” Techno says, and doesn’t bother to elaborate further. There’s a short pause as the four stare at each other, then Will’s face splits into a shit-eating grin.

“Aw, you went and bought stuff for her?”

“Okay, well-” Techno starts to protest, only to be cut off.

“Admit it, you wanted to keep Shroud just as much as I did. You went shopping for cat supplies before Phil and I even knew about her- awww, Technosoft-”

“Alright, I’m just gonna grab the litter box and crate from the car,” Techno grumbles, turning and walking away once more as Will continues to tease. Tommy fights to keep the smirk off his face- it is rather wholesome that Techno apparently went and bought cat supplies before coming to the park, which is likely the reason the man had asked Tommy to give him an hour before meeting him.

Once the piglin hybrid is out of earshot, Will turns back to Tommy. “So, uh…” The brunet shifts in place, demeanor suddenly much more awkward. “Did you… get any of my texts?”

Tommy’s shoulders hunch with a vague embarrassment. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I just-” He frowns, looks away, trying to figure out how to voice the thoughts that have been running through his head for the past week. “I felt a little weird suddenly knowing you guys are heroes and all. Like, I know it shouldn’t change anything- Techno already talked to me about that, actually- but it was just… I don’t know.” He turns his gaze up to Will and Phil, who… don’t look too upset, but still have slightly sad looks on their faces. “It’s not an excuse for ignoring you, and I’m sorry about that. I think I just needed to process things.”

The younger blonde doesn’t mention the fear that his new knowledge had instilled within him. The sickly feeling that the three of them, especially Will (because that horrible encounter with Rhapsody runs through his head almost every day, and he still doesn’t know what Will did with the knowledge of his power-) would hate him if they figured out that he was Red. The worry that despite their friendship, they would have him thrown in prison for vigilantism once they knew.

“Oh, Tommy,” Will says, his eyebrows scrunched in dismay. “That’s okay. I’m sorry for hounding you so much, I should’ve realized you needed some space.”

Tommy shakes his head. “It’s fine. I’ve got my shit together now, I know you’re the same annoying prick as ever.”

“Hey,” Will starts, only to be promptly distracted with Techno’s return into the house. He ends up following his brother out of the room, presumably to help him set up the supplies for Shroud, yammering the whole way. Tommy looks down at Shroud, who is staring after the two with curious eyes, and places her on the ground to let her explore. She sniffs the ground, then follows Will and Techno’s path into the living room.

Now that they’re alone, Phil turns to Tommy with a warm smile. “Hey mate, sorry I didn’t get to greet you properly.” He opens his arms, and Tommy barely hesitates before stepping forward and slotting himself into the offered hug.

“Hi, Phil,” Tommy mumbles, voice muffled against the older man’s shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, until Tommy pulls away.

“How’ve you been? Do your stitches feel okay?” Phil asks, tactfully not mentioning the fact that he’d already texted the younger avian about it.

“I’m alright. I’m pretty sure the stitches are nearly healed.”

Phil’s eyes crinkle in relief. “That’s good. Before we go and see what Will and Techno are up to, do you mind if I check them quickly?”

Tommy isn’t wearing bandages over his wounds, so he pulls up his sleeves in lieu of an answer. Phil takes his wrist gently to bring his arm up to viewing level, looking at it with an analytical eye before doing the same for the other arm. “You’re right, everything looks great! The stitches will probably be ready to come out in the next day or two, if you want you can call me and I’ll-”

“I can do it myself,” Tommy blurts without thinking. Vigilante work doesn’t come without its fair share of injuries, after all, and he’s removed stitches from himself and his roommates plenty of times before.

Not that Phil knows that.

The man in question looks confused, a small frown making itself present on his face. “You know how?”

“It can’t be that hard,” Tommy blusters, trying to play it off as a bout of overblown self-confidence, “Just cut the suture and pull it out, yeah?”

“Well…” Phil pauses, before letting out a sigh that’s somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Pretty much, yeah. Be careful when you do though, will you?”

“Careful is my middle name.”

Phil just shakes his head with a laugh, ushering Tommy into the living room where Techno and Will are trying to set up a cat tree. Shroud is sniffing around the corners of the room, apparently intent on exploring every crevice of her new environment while the brothers bicker. There are already a few cat toys strewn across the floor, and in the doorway that leads to the kitchen Tommy can see that bowls for food and water have already been set up.

“You two having fun?” Phil asks, and Will turns to them with a sheepish look while Techno continues to fiddle with the cat tree.

“Phil, I do not know how to read instruction manuals,” the brunet confesses. Techno scoffs.

“I told you to just let me build it myself,” the piglin hybrid says, then pulls away from his creation. “Two seconds without you and I’m already done.”

“What?!” Will whirls back around to gawk at the completed cat tree as Tommy and Phil laugh. “How the hell did you do that?”

“Pure skill,” Techno says with a deadpan expression. Will groans.

“Whatever. I’m going to see if Shroud wants to play with any of these toys you got her.” The brunet kneels to pick up one of the toys strewn about the floor. The one he chooses somewhat resembles a fishing line, a stick with a stretchy cord attaching it to a bundle of feathers. Shroud perks up at the sight and is quickly engaged with trying to pounce on the feathers as Will flails the toy about.

Tommy ends up sitting on the couch, watching the play with a little boredom. His attention is quickly drawn elsewhere, however, when the news broadcast that’s been playing on the TV turns to a topic that the blonde has had an all-too-close encounter with.

“Badlands villain group attacks hospital in District Five,” the caption scrolling across the bottom of the screen reads as the news anchor speaks in urgent tones. It takes a brief, alarmed moment before Tommy realizes that this isn’t a live broadcast, but rather a report on recent events. He turns to the screen, eyes wide and intent as the anchor shows footage of Blade and a few other heroes who are less familiar to him facing off against several members of the Badlands. Blue eyes narrow as Tommy focuses on the grainy footage- there he can see Halo, Captain, and Felis fighting the heroes as flames dance around them. Notably, Golem is still nowhere to be seen.

The room quiets as the others notice the target of Tommy’s attention. The broadcast continues to lay out the details of the attack, and the news anchor makes sure to express her well wishes towards the victims before moving on to discuss the plans for rebuilding. The one good thing about the attack being in district five is that had it happened in a district any lower- eight, seven, or even certain areas of six- rebuilding efforts would take months to years to even get started. It’s a relief to hear that district five won’t be lacking medical care for long, and by some miracle there were no casualties from the attack.

Tommy turns to the group, pushing down the guilt of not having been there to help, and aims a grimace at Techno. “Eventful week, huh?”

“You could say that,” Techno says, matching the boy’s expression. “Too bad the Badlands guys managed to escape before we could perform any arrests.”

Tommy hums. A brief silence falls over them.

Meow!

Shroud suddenly jumps onto Tommy’s lap and bats at his nose, making the blonde jolt in surprise.

“You gremlin!” He laughs, thoroughly distracted with the mischievous ball of fur’s playful attack. The tension in the room breaks just like that, and Will pulls out his phone to snap several pictures of Shroud and Tommy.

Shroud leaps at the brunet next as if somehow knowing what he’s doing, and Will yelps as the rest of them laugh.

The ball of anxiety in Tommy’s chest loosens, then dissipates entirely. He’s glad he texted Techno- Shroud will do wonderfully here.

Chapter Text

“Jack, if you ask one more time whether I need help, I am gonna scream.”

“Don’t be a dickhead, man, I’m just worried!”

With an exasperated huff, Tommy turns to face Jack. It’s the blonde’s first day back at work- after Sam insisted he take just a few more days off than the initially agreed-upon week- and his coworker seems determined to simultaneously annoy the shit out of and endear himself to Tommy by fussing over his every move. The avian can’t bring himself to be truly annoyed, Jack is his friend after all, but really. 

The claw marks marring Tommy’s arms are nearly healed now, though he can tell they will scar, and he’d gone ahead and removed the stitches only a day after finding Shroud. By all accounts, he’s completely and utterly fine.

That being said, Jack’s worrying is starting to impede his already average customer service. Tommy glances over the man’s shoulder, and yep- sure enough, there’s a huffy-looking middle aged man tapping his foot on the other side of the counter.

“I know, okay? I can still do shit on my own,” Tommy mutters, pitching his voice lower so the customer won’t hear him swearing. Judging by the stink-eye aimed his way, it isn’t successful.

“Yeah, but- you’re not gonna fucking spill something and reveal another hidden wound, are you?”

Tommy just stares at him for a moment.

“Sorry.”

“Nah, you're all good,” Tommy snickers, his fake-offended expression falling away in an instant. “But seriously, I'm fine now.”

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Jack finally concedes, and a small smirk tugs at Tommy’s lips.

“If you need someone to fuss over, you can worry about Niki. She’s the one who called out sick today.”

“Si-?” Jack’s gaze snaps to him before filling with understanding. “Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that.”

“Some friend you are,” Tommy teases, before turning back to his job. “You should probably go get that guy’s order, he’s starting to look pissed.” Jack muffles a swear under his breath and darts over to the counter, making Tommy stifle a laugh.

Nothing of note happens over the course of the rest of the shift, not even an encounter with an entitled customer or a mishap with the espresso machine. Uneventful to the point of boredom, but anything is better than the disaster that led Tommy to need time off in the first place.

As he walks home, the prickly feeling of eyes on Tommy’s back comes and goes, making his wings fluff up anxiously under his baggy shirt. It’s happened a few more times since he first noticed it the day he found Shroud- always around the edges of district six and seven. Whatever- or whoever- the source of the feeling is, it never follows him all the way home, but Tommy’s paranoia tells him it’s only a matter of time. The paranoia also spurs him into taking the most confusing route home possible, though it always ends with him just getting lost and having to GPS his way back with his phone’s laggy navigation app.

Hopefully, it’s just some kind of weird coincidence- at least, a guy can hope.

When Tommy cracks open the apartment door, he’s greeted by the faint noise of the TV. Tubbo’s shoes are strewn by the door as they have been since Puffy’s absence began, and Ranboo’s are nowhere to be found. The latter is most likely at work- both he and Tommy had returned to their jobs on the same day, though not without some resistance from both Tommy and Tubbo. Ranboo’s injury was- is- objectively worse than Tommy’s, and though he’s feeling well enough to walk around and do basic tasks, the blonde had argued that he should at least take more time off than himself. After all, all Tommy has is some scratches and a couple of surface-level burns.

Tubbo, on the other hand, thought both of them needed more time off- which is completely ridiculous, since Tommy is fine. In the interest of his own return to normal activities, Tommy had ended up joining forces with Ranboo to fight for their right to contribute to the household finances.

The blonde’s brow pinches in worry as he thinks about it. Despite Ranboo’s chipper attitude about the whole ordeal, Tommy can’t help but remember how pale he had looked, the way he collapsed from Halo’s attack. The wound is closed but the scar is still delicate, not quite healed yet. Tommy really hopes the accommodations Karl is giving the ender hybrid at the library are enough to keep him from tearing it back open while he works.

Kicking his shoes off, Tommy shuts the door and walks inside. He finds Tubbo on the couch, seemingly watching a news broadcast. “Anything interesting going on?”

“See for yourself,” Tubbo says, turning to glance at the blonde before gesturing to the screen. Leaning over the back of the couch, Tommy squints at the TV. The majority of the screen is taken up by shaky camera footage, apparently broadcasting live- underneath it, the words “BREAKING: Heroes Nemesis and Rhapsody fight Halo and Captain in district three” scroll across on loop.

Will is Tommy’s first thought, followed by a quick assessment of the situation. Will is in active combat against Halo and Captain. His eyes lock on to the blurry video, internally cursing the poor quality of the cameraman. Logically speaking, Will can hold his own in situations like this- it’s what he’s trained for. He’s not alone either, being accompanied by Nemesis, a powerful hero in her own right with water powers that can be used in almost any situation.

Still, Tommy’s heart drops. “Shit, do you think they’re alright?”

“It looks like the heroes are winning, but I can’t really be sure with this camera work.” Despite Tubbo’s flippant tone of voice, his brow is slightly furrowed in a telltale sign of concern. “It’s weird though… before Rhapsody- or Will, I guess- and Nemesis showed up, Halo and Captain were apparently trying to rob some convenience store. Seems a bit beneath what they normally do, if you know what I mean.”

“You could say that,” Tommy says, thinking back to the hospital the Badlands had gone after in district five just over a week prior. He scoffs. “Maybe they have a contract not to attack any important places in the upper districts.”

Tubbo laughs. “Don’t joke about that, it’ll end up being true.”

“Come on, I’m not gonna manifest some new level of corruption, who do you think I-” Tommy cuts himself off, grin dropping as the news switches from the footage of the fight and the screen fills with a familiar face.

“My cabinet and I have been working around the clock to resolve this issue,” Mayor Schlatt says, sitting at a desk that’s clearly been set up for this very broadcast. “The PPA is enacting extra measures to ensure every citizen is protected by our heroes.” There’s no way the old bastard actually works somewhere so clean and tidy, Tommy thinks, his eyes flicking away from the screen to look at Tubbo. The brunet stares at the screen, eyes wide and glassy and his body frozen in place.

“Tubbo?”

Schlatt’s empty platitudes fade into the background as the avian rounds the sofa and sits down next to the goat hybrid, nudging his shoulder lightly. “You alright, man?”

Tubbo’s mouth opens slightly, eyes still fixed on the screen, before something clicks and he turns to look at Tommy. “Yeah-” He clears his throat. “I’m all good.”

“You sure?” Tommy shoots a glare at the screen where the mayor- or, Tubbo’s worthless excuse for a father- continues to drone on. “It’s okay if not.”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to fuss over me,” Tubbo waves him off, turning back to the TV. “Let’s just see what he has to say.”

“With the help of our heroes, and under my guidance,” Schlatt continues, “Manberg will make it through these trying times and come out stronger than before.” His gaze pierces through the camera, making both Tommy and Tubbo shudder.

“Christ,” Tubbo winces, “I’m glad I didn’t get his eyes.”

Tommy huffs out a laugh. “Thank Prime for that.” He glances back to the screen, not really listening as Schlatt’s speech wraps up. “Funny how he’s only commenting now that this has gotten to the upper districts, huh?”

Tubbo hums in agreement, and the broadcast briefly switches back to an overview of the fight- evidently Rhapsody and Nemesis have won, because the villains are no longer anywhere to be seen- before moving on to more mundane, daily news topics. 

Tommy takes the opportunity to pull out his phone and shoot Will a text. Not that he expects to be answered right away (or even soon, really, because he’s sure the hero will have to do a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit before he can clock out for the day) but he still wants to make sure the man is okay.

Sure enough, a couple of hours later his phone pings with a picture of a slightly-bruised Will, hair tied back and still wearing his hero costume, giving the camera a thumbs up.

The following couple of weeks pass in an ordinary fashion- it would be a welcome break from the hectic days preceding them, if not for the unsettling news that continues to trickle in through various means. The Badlands continue to make a regular appearance, though they never manage to do anything quite as destructive as their first few attacks. The PPA is more than happy to take credit for stopping them, and as begrudgingly as it is, Tommy can’t help but concede that maybe their presence is actually helping.

Shroud settles in nicely at her new home with the Crafts, though it hasn’t been long. New photos of her pop up in Tommy’s texts nearly every day- surprisingly, it’s usually Techno who’s sending them. The piglin hybrid can act tough all he wants, but this is where his one weakness shines through- cute, small animals. Still, when Tommy gets an opportunity to visit, Shroud sticks to his side the whole time. (The blonde can’t help but gloat about it- what can he say? Shroud knows where her loyalties lie.)

Meanwhile in the apartment, Tubbo and Ranboo have started scrambling in preparation for Tommy’s upcoming birthday. No matter how many times the avian tells them it’s fine, Prime knows they can’t shell out for a huge celebration anyway, his friends are seemingly determined to do something. Though Tommy doesn’t particularly care either way- he missed his sixteenth birthday in the numbing haze that overtook the months immediately following his revival, and can remember almost nothing of the ones before, so he doesn’t exactly have high expectations- he’s decided to just let them have this. It’s a bit funny to watch the chaos unfold, especially when they’re trying (and failing, horribly) to keep the whole thing a secret from him.

And, well… maybe it does spark a little bit of excitement in Tommy’s chest. He’s seen the birthday parties that happen in the movies, and he doesn’t expect the same thing of course, but they look, y’know- fun. 

As Tommy and Ranboo heal the three vigilantes tentatively begin their patrols again, though they’re significantly less in number and length due to both the increased hero presence throughout the city and what had happened the last time they encountered Halo. That’s the one thing the PPA’s good for, they’ve taken to telling each other- now that they’ve finally gotten off their asses and started doing their job, they can cover the areas that the vigilantes aren’t able to. 

Admittedly, it’s pretty annoying having to run and hide every couple of minutes because of the “real heroes” popping up around every corner. The price you pay for a little bit of protection, Tommy thinks, rolling his eyes as he hides in an alley for the fifth time in one night.

They end up cutting back even more on the patrols when Ranboo ends up having to teleport both Tommy and Tubbo away from a group of lesser-known heroes and strains his mostly-healed side. Lesson learned. 

In the daytime, Tommy whiles away his time at the cafe, the atmosphere always welcoming and warm despite the dreaded customer service portions of the job. Ever since the incident that led to Sam and the Crafts finding out about his wings, Sam has had an extra touch of gentleness towards Tommy. The creeper hybrid is already unbearably kind to almost everyone, so the offers of a “break whenever you need it”- code for an opportunity to sort his wings out in the back room uninterrupted- go largely ignored by the blonde. Niki and Jack, not privy to the whole wings revelation, are unchanging other than the initial concern when Tommy first returned. They grow closer every day, and he starts to finally feel confident in calling the two his friends.

Since the decrease in his time spent as Red, Tommy has begun taking more shifts for lack of anything better to do. It’s this very reason that finds him alone on a closing shift one night, mopping the floors of the empty building as he prepares to lock the store up.

Tommy’s birthday is in just a couple of days, now- it’s kind of funny watching Tubbo and Ranboo try to pretend they haven’t been running around like a pair of chickens with their heads cut off in preparation for the event. There’s been a few times now where Tommy will walk into a room only to send one of them fumbling to pack away whatever they’re working on.

Secretly, the blonde is glad that the gifts- whatever they may be- seem to be handmade. Not only is it more personal, but well… money being spent on him when he doesn’t need it makes something uncomfortable squirm in Tommy’s stomach. Like those months you spent without a job, draining away at the two of them, his mind hums, a constant background song of guilt he’s learned to live with.

It’s not like it matters.

Will, Techno, and Phil seem a lot more calm about the whole birthday thing, which is nice considering that Tommy hadn’t really been planning on telling them about it in the first place. It just kind of slipped out as many things do when he’s around them- something about Phil’s stupidly kind face will do that to you.

(Tommy’s coworkers don’t know it’s nearly his birthday- the date Tubbo had put on the paperwork he’d submitted when he first got hired was selected at random, and even if he didn’t have to explain that particular detail Tommy also doesn’t want to expose the fact that he may have lied about his exact age.)

As he moves from mopping the floor to sorting out the tables, Tommy’s wings ruffle under his jacket. Today he’s wearing a shirt with holes in the back, courtesy of Phil, and he curses himself for not trying it sooner- even with the protective layer of the jacket being there, it doesn’t feel quite as restrictive as folding them away under a normal shirt. If it weren’t for the large windows fronting the cafe, he’d even consider taking the jacket off to let his feathers breathe without the presence of customers or coworkers.

Ah, to let out his wings…

He can’t wait to get home.

After an admittedly rushed job of cleaning the place up, Tommy makes his way to the front door while fumbling with the keys. Out of sheer habit he glances around when he gets outside, back and forth on the darkened sidewalk- then falters, frowning as his eyes catch on a silhouette lingering a few stores down. It’s a man, standing near the opening of an alleyway- part of Tommy wants to tell him keep walking, you’ll get fucking mugged standing there like that, but a more cautious part of the blonde keeps him from saying anything. Instead he watches the man (who’s talking into a phone, indistinct tones of stress and impatience floating towards Tommy’s ears) from the corner of his eye as he turns and locks the door.

The avian’s shoulders tense as he finishes up and puts the keys away. Just his luck, the guy is positioned in the same direction that Tommy needs to walk past in order to get home. He sucks in a deep breath, taking off in a brisk walk down the sidewalk and past the man. His relief at getting past is palpable, but short-lived as the man suddenly calls out.

“Hey, kid! Mind helping me out for a minute here?”

Tommy’s steps falter ever so slightly and he slows but doesn’t stop, alarms blaring in his head. A large hand lands on his shoulder and he jumps, whirling around.

“Bit rude to ignore me, yeah?” The stranger says, already much too aggressive for such a short encounter, and Tommy almost doesn’t notice that he’s being herded back towards the alleyway he initially saw the guy standing near. Almost. 

“Hey, sorry, I don’t- I should really be going,” Tommy stammers out uselessly, eyes darting around for an escape, slinking back another step as the man continues to loom over him. An inescapable feeling of dread twists at Tommy’s insides, making his heart pound with every breath.

“It’ll be quick, I just need to borrow your phone.”

Tommy doesn’t bother to point out that he just saw the man using his own phone. There’s something- something off about this- something about the man is fabricated, almost like he’s just dressing up as what he thinks a lower-district local looks like.

“Listen man, I really need to go home-” Tommy chokes, his eyes slipping down to a half-hidden badge (emblazoned with the Manberg seal, Prime help him-) poking out from under the guy’s jacket, and he darts to the side-

A hand wraps around his bicep and yanks him back into the alley.

“Shit!” Tommy manages to scream before a hand clamps over his mouth and he kicks out, feet scrabbling against the cracked pavement uselessly. It only takes a moment before he realizes he’s dealing with a powered individual, whoever grabbed him not wavering by even a centimeter as he thrashes wildly, panicked tears building in his eyes. 

But the hand over his mouth is all the contact he needs.

Tommy’s eyes glow as he activates his own power, the arms restraining him practically falling away as their enhanced strength disappears- he takes the opportunity to bite the hand of his attacker, blood blooming in his mouth as the unknown assailant tries to hold him down, before he rips out of their grasp and whirls around with wild eyes.

His head is blissfully empty, adrenaline staving off any need to think even as he looks this new stranger in the face, sees that it’s another man much bigger than himself, and decides he doesn’t fucking care. The panicked, sickly look on the man’s face is almost laughable in the face of Tommy’s fear-fueled rage, and he leaps forwards with bared fists.

Bared fists that, even as the man reaches for a weapon, don’t let Tommy hesitate for even a moment. So consumed in defending himself, he forgets the presence of the first man, the one who had gotten him into this situation to begin with, the one with the badge and the scary eyes-

The one who sneaks up behind him and sinks a needle into the side of his neck just moments before he can remember to watch his back.

All of the fight drains out of Tommy just as quickly as it came- he loses his grasp on his stolen strength in the blink of an eye and wobbles in place, caught just before he can crash to the ground. There are muffled voices above him- someone tugs at his jacket, a hand in his pocket, some shuffling and murmured conversation- he doesn’t know whether seconds or hours have passed when he can just barely register the crunch of his phone being tossed to the ground and stepped on.

Tommy tries to twist around, look where it fell, but his eyes can’t seem to stay open.

His blinks get longer, and despite everything in him screaming not to let it, the darkness claims him.

Chapter Text

When Ranboo gets home, Tubbo is stationed on the couch in the spot where he’s been spending most of his days since Puffy’s disappearance. Tommy is still out- it’s not unusual for him to take on a few more hours at work if they’re understaffed or even if he just feels like it.

“How was work?” The brunet asks as Ranboo kicks off his shoes.

“It was alright. Same ol’.” Ranboo ambles over to the small kitchen area. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Tubbo thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “Nah, got caught up in my work. You know how it is.” 

Caught up, indeed. Freelance hacking may not be the most moral of side jobs, but it’s certainly engaging. 

“I’ll cook something while we wait for Tommy to get home, then,” Ranboo says much to Tubbo’s relief. Now that he thinks about it, he’s starving. 

Something about the ‘waiting for Tommy’ thing evokes a vague sense of unease in him, though. “Thanks. Hey, did Tommy mention having a longer shift today to you? Like, send you a text or anything?”

“…No?” Ranboo says, sounding unsure until he pulls out his phone and checks it. “Yeah, no. I got nothing.”

“Weird.”

“Eh, he probably just forgot.”

An hour ends up passing with no sign of the blonde, so they eat their meal- bacon and eggs- without him. Tubbo makes sure to put a plate in the fridge so he can get it when he comes home.

After two more hours, a deep sense of unease is beginning to snake its way into Tubbo’s mind.

Maybe he just went to his friend’s house or something? He’s been talking about visiting that cat he rescued. 

“He’s not responding to my texts,” Ranboo frets, “And when I tried to call him, it didn’t go through.”

“I’m not having any luck either.” Tubbo swipes out of his texts, opening another page. All three of the boys have long since turned on location sharing in their phones- something very necessary to their safety considering their occupations as teenage runaways-slash-vigilantes. “His location is still by Sam’s Cafe. Reckon we should go check on him?”

Ranboo nods. “Sam’s is closed by now, so it’s kinda weird that he’s still over there… I’m sure it’s fine, but we might as well. It’ll be nice to walk home together!”

The two leave the apartment at record speed, anxiety quickening their steps even as they try to reassure each other- and themselves- that everything is fine. It’s just a bit weird, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.

When they get to Sam’s Cafe, the store is darkened and locked up. Tubbo stares into the empty windows. “Well, shit.” He pulls out his phone again, frowning down at the location service. “That’s weird… now that we’re closer, it’s showing him a bit down the street.”

Ranboo shrugs, leaning over him to look at the display. “Let’s go that way, then.”

The phone leads them a few steps down and stops them before an alleyway.

“This is…”

Fucking scary, Tubbo thinks when Ranboo trails off. “Come on.”

They creep into the darkness, looking around for any hint of some sort of ambush or trap. There’s nothing- not even the movement from a stray bit of trash blowing around or a wild animal. At some point Ranboo walks away from him, going deeper between the buildings before stopping. A little noise from the back of the ender hybrid’s throat draws Tubbo’s attention.

“What did you find?”

Ranboo doesn’t turn around, kneeling over something on the pavement. “It’s his phone.”

Tubbo’s chest seizes, an icy feeling building around his heart. Stepping closer, he can see what his friend is looking at- the phone is shattered in several places, almost like it had been stomped on. Tubbo drops to his knees and gathers it into his hands, trying to turn it on to no avail. “Fuck.” He stands up again, desperately jamming his finger against the power button. “Fuck!”

“I-it’s okay,” Ranboo says as he stands too, though his voice is noticeably shaky, “I’m sure he just dropped-” He cuts himself off with a short, panicked noise and Tubbo’s head whips up to look at the ender hybrid as he stumbles further into the alley and picks something up.

Tubbo stares at the bundle of fabric clutched in Ranboo’s hands. “Tommy’s jacket?”

“He must’ve worn it to work today,” Ranboo’s fingers clench tighter into the jacket as he pulls it closer to his body, as if afraid of it being ripped away. “I can’t- I don’t remember, but there’s something…”

A hazy, half-asleep memory of that morning sparks in Tubbo’s mind as Ranboo’s sentence trails off. Tommy isn’t normally the type to wear much more than a select few baggy tops that tend to be strewn around the apartment, but he had made more of a ruckus than usual while getting ready. It had been enough to wake Tubbo and Ranboo- Tommy had been proud to show them the shirt he’d borrowed from Phil, complete with sewn-in holes for his wings to poke through. Ranboo wouldn’t have remembered the interaction properly, not with his… condition.

“He was wearing one of Phil’s wing shirts,” Tubbo says, then shuts his mouth before he can spew any further anxious thoughts- they both know Tommy would never willingly go without some kind of wing covering in his civilian form.

Ranboo turns, whole body shaking as he stares at Tubbo. “We need to go home- see if there’s anything on his phone or- or something we can use to figure out what happened.”

Tubbo nods, grabs his arm, and allows the ender hybrid to whisk them back to the apartment in a flurry of particles. They clear off the counter, giving Tubbo room to lay out the phone and whatever spare parts he may need to repair it- the goat hybrid’s scrap-collecting habit finally coming in handy.

The phone, as it turns out, takes significantly longer to repair than expected. The shattered body is an easy fix, only taking an hour or two, but the phone itself…

“It’s like the software is just completely fucked,” Tubbo grumbles, clutching the sides of his head in frustration as the phone begins to turn on, only for the screen to go black seconds later. Most of the night has already been whittled away, the dark already beginning to be eaten away by the rising sun. He ends up pulling out his laptop, using a cable to connect the computer to the phone- something he hadn’t wanted to do earlier for fear of there being some kind of virus on the phone that could migrate into the other device.

(Clearly there is a virus on the phone, considering the software issues, but Tubbo has confidence that he can fight it off should it attempt to destroy his precious computer. Probably.)

He lets the phone continue to attempt powering on, while navigating to its files where they’re displayed in the computer. Ranboo, who’s been loyally stationed by the brunet’s side throughout the night- though he may not be quite as technologically literate as Tubbo is- watches as he mouses over a few files before pausing on an unfamiliar folder. When he opens it, there’s only one file hidden inside.

“Is that… supposed to be there?” 

Tubbo clicks on the file, making a blank error pop up. He frowns, shaking his head. “I think I’ve heard of this before- it’s something that can be remotely activated to keep the device it infects from booting up. Doesn’t do much else, but it does mean someone’s had a target on Tommy for a while now- though I don’t know how exactly they managed to get the virus into his phone in the first place.”

Ranboo nods and scoots closer in lieu of a verbal reply, his shoulder bumping against Tubbo’s in a show of silent support. The brunet doesn’t want to think about it, but- nausea boils in the pit of his stomach at the very thought- the evidence overwhelmingly points to Tommy being taken- kidnapped by someone.

Tubbo is willing to bet that he already knows who that someone is.

Deactivating the virus while simultaneously keeping it from migrating onto the laptop takes up several more hours of precious time. At some point during the course of the night Ranboo disappears, emerging back into the kitchen just after sunrise to slide a plate of breakfast over to Tubbo. 

The food goes untouched.

When Tubbo finally gets the phone back into working condition, his relief is short-lived- nothing seems to be out of the ordinary within the phone itself. In fact, it seems completely untampered with.

That is, until a text message appears at the top of the screen.

“Tubbo? Are you alright?”

A hand lands on Tubbo’s shoulder to give a reassuring squeeze, and when the brunet finally manages to tear his gaze away from the screen Ranboo is giving him a worried frown. “Did you find something?”

Wordlessly, Tubbo tilts the screen enough for the ender hybrid to read the message.

Tobias-

I see you’ve managed to get rid of the virus on your little friend’s phone. Well done! You’ve always been smart. You take after me in that way.

Alright. Enough of the sentimental bullshit- you can figure out what this is about, can’t you?

It’s time to come home. Maybe I’ll even let this kid go if you do- only one way to find out.

It’s not signed. There’s not even a proper phone number attached to it, the ‘sender’ field somehow left infuriatingly blank.

Yet, Tubbo knows exactly who it’s from.

Ranboo takes an involuntary step back, a horrible look in his eyes. “That’s…”

“Schlatt.” Tubbo sucks in a sharp breath, dropping his head into his hands. “I thought he might be the one behind this, but I hoped…”

“You’re not going back to him,” Ranboo says, the very tone of his voice making it clear that he won’t be swayed on the topic. “We can come up with another plan.”

“Of course.” Tubbo nods, but he knows that if it comes down to it, he would do anything for his friends. 

Anything at all.

The brunet’s spiraling train of thought is interrupted as Ranboo speaks again. “Now that we have confirmation that Schlatt’s the one who took him, what should we do?”

Tubbo puts the phone down with a hum. “I might know someone who can help us.”

“Really?” Ranboo looks surprised. “Who?”

Tubbo thinks of a certain nearby city. One with almost equal power to Manberg, despite it having only risen into the spotlight in recent years.

One with a certain someone in the seat of power.

Las Nevadas.

“I’m going to try and hack into Las Nevadas’ servers. If I can do that, then maybe Quackity will help us.”

There’s a long pause.

“Huh?” Ranboo gives him a blank, lost stare before pulling his memory book from the counter where he normally leaves it and starting to rifle through the pages. “How would he help?”

The question is a sobering reminder of the decline in Ranboo’s memory. Were this happening just a year or so earlier, the ender hybrid would have known instantly what Tubbo was talking about.

(When speaking of the trio’s childhood, Tubbo is the only one who can still remember everything. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t, if only so he wouldn’t be alone.)

“It’s…” Tubbo sighs, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. “Before Quackity founded Las Nevadas he was Schlatt’s secretary, right-hand man, whatever you want to call it. Ran away when he had enough of the old bastard’s abuse. He has, or at least should have, info on Schlatt.”

The sound of rustling pages is Ranboo’s only response for a long moment as he looks through his memory book, finally seeming to find what he’s looking for as his eyes clear with understanding. “Oh.” He closes the book sharply, and Tubbo suppresses a flinch at the noise- stress making him far more jumpy than usual. “That seems like our best bet, but how are you so sure he has anything useful?”

The question pulls a humorless laugh from the brunet. “You don’t go from being someone’s secretary to running a rival city without plenty of blackmail, bossman.”

Ranboo doesn’t seem to have anything to say in response to that, and Tubbo flips open his laptop without further ado. Finding the Las Nevadas website is easy enough- it’s a public page meant to inform and invite potential tourists and newcomers, after all.

Honestly, Tubbo doesn’t really expect the information he needs to be stored on this particular site. He just needs to get Quackity’s attention.

With that in mind, Tubbo makes a point of removing several of the encrypting factors from his laptop- things that normally disguise his identity from those who fall victim to his hacks. It starts off well at first, the brunet managing to make his way through several hidden pages before his progress slows down. The page he’s on goes blank, then glitches.

“What’s happening?”

“They know something’s wrong- Quackity’s people are probably working against me now.”

“Can you-” Ranboo cuts himself off, glancing away, but Tubbo already knows what he wants to ask- can you still get in?

“It’ll be fine,” Tubbo says. “Once they run an identifier they’ll realize who I am and let me through. And if they don’t, I’ll just brute force it.”

Almost as if on cue, the screen flickers. Flashes cut across the screen, the webpage seeming to shake before stabilizing once more.

A dialogue box pops up, reminiscent of something one would see in an old internet chatroom. Tubbo pauses, hands pulling away from the keyboard like they’ve been burned as he watches a single message appear on the screen.

> Toby?

Ranboo makes a worried sound behind him, but all Tubbo can do is try to control his breathing. The reminder of his old name is a punch to the gut- he only lets himself take a second before he types a response.

> Quackity.

Almost instantly, another message pops up.

> What are you trying to do?

Tubbo’s hands shake.

> I need your files on Schlatt.

There’s a long pause, then-

> Why?

> He has my friend.

Tubbo doesn’t give the other man a chance to reply before his hands are flying across the keyboard again, sending an impulsive addition-

> You owe me.

You left me behind, Tubbo doesn’t type. Quackity already knows.

There’s no reply, but moments later a new page loads where there’d only been a blank one before, a notification popping up to tell Tubbo that the page is asking to download several files. He clicks accept and one last message pops up in the dialogue box afterwards- a phone number with a brief note attached.

> In case you need me.

Tubbo scowls and closes the chat.

“Is that the stuff you were looking for?” Ranboo suddenly asks, peeking over his shoulder and making Tubbo jolt in his seat. The goat hybrid nods slowly, mousing over several folders before finding one and clicking on it.

“Hopefully,” he mutters, and there’s a fraught minute of wandering through files before he finally stumbles across the right one, the link he clicked on loading a document with a list of addresses. A relieved puff of breath escapes his mouth.

Ranboo leans forward, eyes narrowed at the text displayed across the top of the screen. “Safe houses?” The ender hybrid’s brow furrows. “What does he need those for?”

“They’re supposed to be in case of emergencies,” the goat hybrid explains, bitter taste on his tongue, “For government officials to hide if something goes wrong in the outside world- at least, that’s what it says on paper. Knowing him, they’ve never actually been used for their intended purpose. Hell, the only reason I even know they exist is from the shit I picked up sneaking in his office as a kid.”

“Oh,” Ranboo says, picking up on what Tubbo’s thinking. “So there’s a good chance he’s holding Tommy in one of these locations.”

“Exactly.” Tubbo clicks around, trying to make his movements look purposeful, but inside- how is he going to know which one it is? He and Ranboo can’t search over a dozen locations, not without being caught immediately- the chances of the first one they go for being the right one are slim to none. 

“Tubbo.”

And if they get caught, then what happens to Tommy? Will Schlatt just kill him? And what about Ranboo? Schlatt probably wouldn’t want to keep him, so-

“Tubbo.” 

A safe, familiar pair of hands gently pulls Tubbo’s away from the computer, and it’s only then that the goat hybrid realizes he’s shaking.

“Hey,” Ranboo says, kneeling to look into Tubbo’s eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours? We’re a team- anything I can help you with, I will.”

Taking a deep, wobbling breath, Tubbo forces his body to relax. “How are we going to figure out which safe house to go to? We can’t search all of them, it’ll be too risky.”

Ranboo looks down at their joined hands with a thoughtful frown. “Well, who says we have to search all of them?” 

“What do you mean?”

“You have those, uh… the little drones, right? We could send a few of those to each location, monitor them, and see whichever one has anyone going in or out.”

Tubbo perks up, hope sparking through him for the first time in two days. “Ranboo, I could kiss you right now.”

“…Thanks?”

Pulling his hands away, Tubbo turns back to the laptop and boots up the program used to control the bee drones. “Would you go and open up the window for me? Oh, and the top drawer to the right of the sink- that’s where I put the drones last time.”

There’s a quick shuffle of movement as Ranboo does what he’d asked, and before long a small cluster of drones is flying out of the window, quickly parting ways towards their various destinations. It’s a bit complicated to remotely control more than a few drones at a time, so Tubbo sets them to automatically make their ways to monitoring points near the safe houses- from there, he’ll watch their cameras until one of them shows suspicious activity.

Tubbo slumps back in his chair, eyes glued to the camera feeds plastered across his laptop’s screen. He’s startled slightly when a black-and-white speckled hand nudges his shoulder, pushing a plate towards him. “You should eat something while we wait.”

The brunet shoots Ranboo an unimpressed look, but dutifully shoves a piece of toast into his mouth. “Thanks.”

Hours pass.

Nothing changes.

Tubbo jolts himself awake for the third time in a row, body aching from sitting still for so long. Ranboo isn’t faring any better.

“You should get some sleep,” Ranboo says, sounding utterly exhausted himself.

The goat hybrid shakes his head. “No, I need to keep watch. You can sleep if you want, though.”

“Tubbo, you’re literally falling asleep at the table. We can’t help Tommy if both of us are too sleep-deprived to function.”

Tubbo’s voice fails him, only managing a single word of weak protest. “But-” His eyes flicker over to the clock in the corner of his laptop’s screen.

It’s Tommy’s birthday, his mind supplies unhelpfully.

It’s his birthday, and you’re still here.

It’s his birthday, and he’s scared and alone and probably hurt because you’re not saving him. 

You’re failing him. You’re failing him again. He’s done so much for you, and what have you done in return? Nothing he’d be proud of. You’re a monster.

“Tubbo?” Ranboo’s voice is gentler now, softened by years of experience as one of Tubbo’s other halves.

“I can’t lose him again, ‘Boo,” Tubbo says, mortified to find his voice choked by tears.

Ranboo is strong, confident as he replies. “We’re not going to lose him.” He opens his arms and Tubbo crashes into the offered hug, tears slipping down his face.

Despite his words, Ranboo is shaking.

“I don’t know what Schlatt is doing to him,” Tubbo manages to choke through his sobs, annoyance at himself rising up alongside his despair. “I don’t- If the worst happens, I don’t know if the book will even work again.”

Ranboo tenses against him. “It’s- It’s not going to come to that.”

The assurance falls on deaf ears.

“But what if it does? He’s not- Tommy’s not safe, and if Schlatt decides he’s had enough of him what’s stopping him from just-” Tubbo cuts himself off, a hysterical sort of choked noise coming out of him as he pulls away from Ranboo and turns towards the computer screen. “And these fucking drones are taking too long-!” 

“Hey.” 

The uncharacteristically stern tone of Ranboo’s voice pulls Tubbo back to himself just enough to realize he’s gripping the sides of his laptop hard enough to make the casing creak dangerously. His eyes widen.

Good thing it was the laptop and not Ranboo. Monster.

A loud sob bubbles out of him, then another, then he’s bursting into tears all over again. Arms wrap around him again as he wails, a clawed hand smoothing out his hair. “I’m sorry,” Tubbo cries, Ranboo comforting him all the while.

He’s always been so kind, the goat hybrid thinks, always so kind…

There’s a pang of guilt there when he realizes Ranboo, despite his supportive nature, must be hurting too.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tubbo looks up at Ranboo. There are new scars making shiny tracks down the taller boy’s cheeks.

“Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Ranboo brushes off the question as he quickly scrubs at his face. “I think we both need some sleep.”

Tubbo grunts. The ender hybrid is right, he knows that, but Tommy…

Mismatched eyes flick over to look at him, then back at the screen as Ranboo’s face forms a thoughtful frown. “Is there any way we could set some kind of alarm that’ll go off if the drones catch any activity?”

“Oh… yeah, that could work.” Tubbo’s voice is still raspy, and he wipes away the last of his tears before scooting forward to mess with the computer. It doesn’t take too long to set up a basic alert system- in comparison to everything else since Tommy’s disappearance, it’s almost laughably easy.

With the assurance that he and Ranboo will be woken if anything changes, Tubbo finally feels comfortable enough to retreat to the bedroom. He plugs in the laptop, leaving it open on the floor beside the mattress.

The two make a miserable huddle on the bed and fall into an uneasy sleep. All night, the laptop remains silent. It takes until halfway through the next day- when Tubbo and Ranboo have had more than enough time to work themselves into another panic- for an alert to chime out.

They rush to the computer in time to see a nondescript car pull around the side of one of the buildings. It stops near a secluded alleyway, and the camera is just barely able to pick up a figure- most likely a man, judging by their stature- in dark clothing getting out of the car and going further down the alley. The car pulls away quickly, leaving the image still once more.

“There must be a side entrance,” Tubbo mutters to himself as he minimizes the camera feeds, pulling up the safe house files and finding the one that corresponds to that specific building. According to the documentation, it’s an abandoned office building whose basement has been converted to a secure space. 

The records also show that it contains several holding cells.

A shudder crawls up Tubbo’s spine.

Ranboo doesn’t look any better from where he sits, leaning in to look at the screen.

“He’s… probably in one of those,” Tubbo manages. 

“How are we going to get in?”

A moment passes, Tubbo blinking uselessly at the computer before shaking his head. “I- We’ll come up with something.” They can’t just barge in by themselves without a plan, after all. A move like that would be tantamount to handing themselves over to Schlatt on a silver platter.

Brainstorming, unfortunately, takes longer than either boy would like. The safe house’s file, at least, contains several things that are bound to be useful. Things like the floor plan of the building and how to enter the basement. Maps of concealed passageways and entrances. It’s actually not too complicated when laid out on paper- or, technically, a screen- so Tubbo isn’t too worried about not being able to find his way around.

No, the problem is the potential of being caught. They know nothing about the security protocols that may be in place- knowing Schlatt, it’s just as likely that there’s some kind of trap as it is that he left the building’s security the same way it was before he decided to take a teenager prisoner.

(Some little part of Tubbo sneers that the old bastard would much rather spend his money on booze than fork over a cent for added security on any… projects he may have. The more rational part of him knows that Schlatt is often more clever than he seems.)

Tubbo tries to look on the bright side. The files they have do detail the building’s normal, non-prisoner-holding protocols. That’s something, at least.

The existing protocols are… rather extensive, however. It doesn’t seem that there’s much manpower being used, per se- it would be rather an inconvenience to hire staff for buildings that stand empty almost all of the time- but the building seems to be pretty well locked down.

They won’t need access codes to the doors when they can just blast through them instead, but Tubbo is sure that any sort of explosion will, of course, draw Schlatt’s attention- which brings them right back to the problem of being caught.

And most daunting of all, they have no backup.

Tubbo says as much to Ranboo, who goes quiet and thinks for a moment.

“I might have an idea,” The ender hybrid eventually says, picking up Tommy’s phone from where it’d been abandoned on the table.

“Oh?” Tubbo perks up. “What is it?”

“Tommy’s friend, he-” Ranboo cuts himself off, a frustrated huff leaving him as he grabs his notebook again and flips through the pages. “Techno. Tommy told us that Techno is Blade, and it would be pretty useful to have an actual, experienced hero on our side.”

“So…” Tubbo raises an eyebrow. “You’re saying we should call him for help?”

Ranboo hums in assent. “He seems more lenient with vigilantes than Rhapsody is, maybe he’d also be more willing to help with something like this- I mean, not that we should tell any heroes we’re vigilantes or anything.”

“All of their little group should be willing to help if they actually give a shit about Tommy, so I think Rhapsody might be along for the ride anyway,” Tubbo grumbles, but puts up no protest as Ranboo taps on the contact name. “So what, we just say we’re Tommy’s friends who just so happen to be expert hackers and we already tracked down where he’s being held?”

“The hacking part is all you,” Ranboo shrugs, “But yeah. It’s basically the truth anyway.”

“Do you want me to talk to them?”

Ranboo shakes his head. “I’ll do it. You’ve been working nonstop.”

Tubbo can hear the unspoken ‘I feel like I haven’t done enough’ hidden in that sentence, but he’ll wait to call his friend out on it until after they rescue Tommy.

The phone rings, and it only takes a few seconds for it to be picked up.

“Hey Tommy,” a deep, monotone but not unfriendly voice greets.

“Is this Techno?”

There’s an audible hesitation, then a shuffle that Tubbo would bet money means Ranboo’s been put on speaker. “Yeah. Who is this?”

Ranboo’s eyes flick over to Tubbo, who gives a nod that he hopes is encouraging. “Uh, it’s Ranboo. Tommy’s roommate.”

“Okay…” A slight confusion emanates from Techno’s voice. “Where’s Tommy, then? I kinda expected this to be him, considering you’re calling from his phone.”

“It’s- there’s not really any good way to say this,” Ranboo winces, shifting nervously. “He, uh… Tommy’s sort of been… kidnapped?”

There’s a long pause. When Techno speaks again, his voice sounds sharper and almost deadly. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not a-” Ranboo starts to protest, only to be steamrolled over as Techno continues.

“Kid, I don't know who you think you are-”

“Listen to me, Blade.” Ranboo snaps, tail lashing behind him angrily. A shocked silence rings out over the phone. “I’m being serious. We think we know who has him, but we need your help getting him back.”

The phone crackles with distant, muffled voices. (Tubbo hears a very distinct ‘He told them?’ and winces to himself.) When Techno finally returns, it’s with a determined air to his voice. “What do you need us to do?”

Ranboo glances over at Tubbo, suddenly unsure. The goat hybrid can tell what he’s thinking- the taller boy can be awkward in conversations at the best of times, and this entire situation is far from the best. “I, uh…”

Tubbo gestures for the phone, and the ender hybrid hands it over easily. “Hey Blade, can’t say I’m a fan- this is Tubbo, by the way. Tommy’s other roommate. I’d greatly appreciate it if the five of us- that is me, Ranboo, and your family- could meet up in person to discuss this considering the potential for interference on a phone call.”

A small shuffle, then a different, somewhat higher yet more mature voice takes control of the other side of the call. “Nice to meet you, mate. Before we take this any further, mind proving to us that you’re really who you say you are? Tommy’s talked about you and all, but I’d rather not take risks if what your friend said a minute ago is true.”

“Alright,” Tubbo drawls, “Tommy works at Sam’s Cafe, which is where he met Will and has continuously fucked up his order ever since. A few weeks ago, he found an alley cat that he named Shroud and gave to the Craft family- that’s you- to take care of since we couldn’t. He secretly has wings that he hides under his clothes almost all the time. They’ve got black feathers, and are smaller than most of those his age. If it makes you feel any better, you can meet us at our place instead of letting us into yours.”

The man who took the phone- judging from his voice, it must be Phil (better known to Tubbo as Archangel)- makes a noise of acknowledgement. In the background of the call Tubbo can faintly hear a third voice-

“Well, I believe them. Let’s do this.”

“We’ll be over in twenty,” Phil says, and the line goes dead before Tubbo can respond.

It doesn’t take long for the trio to arrive at the apartment.

A tension so thick it could be cut with a knife chokes the stale air filling the room. The laptop sits open on the table, the centerpiece of it all as it displays pages of information and evidence.

(Tubbo made sure to take out the bits that would reveal his vigilante identity before the Crafts arrived- still, he’s painfully aware of just how suspicious it looks that he somehow got all of this information.)

Will is pacing back and forth, curls messily pulled back into a loose ponytail. His clothes look like they were thrown on in a hurry- his shirt in particular looks like it might even be on backwards. If this were any other situation, Tubbo would be judging him just a little bit for his unkempt first impression. “You’re saying he was taken by Schlatt?”

“Yes. I showed you the message he sent,” Tubbo says- trying and failing to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“We don’t technically know that was from Schlatt, though,” Blade- Techno points out. “What could someone like him even possibly want from Tommy?”

A vague urge to stomp his foot like an angry child passes through Tubbo’s mind. “I know it was him. He doesn’t have to sign his fuckin’ name for me to figure it out.”

“Ah, sorry but-” Phil cuts in, sounding like he’s trying to be polite despite the tense atmosphere. “How exactly do you know Schlatt, again?”

Tubbo stares at him. “I think the message made it pretty damn clear.”

He would be more scathing, but Ranboo’s hand on his shoulder reminds him what they’re here for. The brunet sighs heavily before he continues. “Sorry, I’m a bit…” He waves a hand vaguely. “Stressed. You just didn’t want to jump to conclusions, yeah?”

Phil nods, and Tubbo nods back before explaining. “To be clear, I am Schlatt’s son- at least, biologically speaking. I don’t consider that fucker a father to me.”

“Schlatt has a son?” Will is frowning deeply when Tubbo turns towards him, but Ranboo answers before the goat hybrid has to.

“Well, had, since Tubbo is free now, but yeah. He wasn’t exactly public about it.”

Tubbo nods along with his friend’s explanation. “Mhm, kept me cooped up in the mansion all the time- didn’t want anyone to know about me for whatever reason. Can’t imagine why, the whole ‘single father’ thing might’ve gotten him some pity points from the public.”

If Tubbo really had to guess, he’d say that Schlatt hiding him was most likely a result of not wanting to deal with the possibility of someone using his son to get to him. He doesn’t bother saying it though- no use in divulging all his theories about why his father was never proud of him to a bunch of relative strangers.

“Do you think he kidnapped Tommy to get to you?”

“It seems likely,” Tubbo agrees. “There’s also… something I took when I ran away that I reckon he wants back.” He casts an uneasy glance in the direction of the creaky floorboard in the hallway that nobody other than Ranboo seems to pick up on. “Returning it isn’t an option.”

The last thing Manberg- or the world, really- needs is the revive book being in the hands of someone like Schlatt.

There’s a pause. Then-

“…You’re not goin’ to tell us what it is?” Techno’s question sounds more like a statement.

Tubbo shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not getting it.”

Tommy wouldn’t want them to give it over, anyway. Even at the cost of himself.

“Well…” Phil says, looking a bit unsettled. “This has been a lot to take in.”

“We know where Tommy is,” Will finally stops pacing, turning to look at the others in the room. “We need to make a plan to rescue him.”

Everyone agrees to that idea pretty quickly, much to Tubbo’s relief. With the information they already have about the building Tommy is being held in and the help of three professional heroes, it’s not nearly as difficult as it could’ve been. 

There is one part of the new plan, though, that Tubbo doesn’t quite agree with.

“Tubbo, Ranboo, you two should stay behind while we go in and get Tommy.”

“What?!” Tubbo and Ranboo cry out in protest at the same time as Phil stares them down, unwavering.

“You’re teenagers, and moreover, you’re civilians. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

‘Civilians.’ Ha.

Tubbo and Ranboo exchange a glance. 

Yeah, we’re not telling them unless we absolutely have to.

“We’re also less likely to get arrested for bein’ there,” Techno points out, “Since we’re with the PPA, we can just say we’re investigating a lead or something.”

Tubbo frowns. “That makes sense, I guess. But how are you going to get past all the locked doors and stuff?” Originally, he had been planning to use his own powers to blast through the doors- but if Techno, Phil, or Will see him do it, they’ll instantly be able to connect Tubbo’s powers with the vigilante, Apis. 

Don’t get him wrong- of course he’d be willing to risk his identity for Tommy’s sake, but the heroes seem insistent that he and Ranboo stay in relative safety while they go and fetch the blonde.

“We’ve got gear for that sort of thing,” Will pipes in, “Laser cutters or if it comes down to it, small explosives. We’ll have to swing by our place and pick them up along with our hero suits.”

Ranboo sighs. “Fine. But we want a way to communicate with you guys if anything happens.”

“Fine by me,” Phil says with a shrug. With the plan in place, they make their way out of the apartment and set off in the Craft’s car as evening falls.

True to their word, they end up briefly stopping by the family’s residence, just long enough for the heroes to suit up and grab the equipment they need. Afterwards the five load into a minivan- Tubbo can’t quite muster up the spirit to poke fun at the choice of vehicle- that will hopefully blend in amongst the other cars in the city. The last row of seats has been gutted from the van, leaving room for supplies and the radio setup that will be used for Tubbo and Ranboo to keep contact with the heroes.

The car ride is quiet for the most part, Techno driving the van while the other four sit in the back and go over the rescue plan. They’re interrupted at one point by a loud ringing from Phil’s phone, who looks startled and frowns at the screen as he silences it. Tubbo manages to catch a glimpse of the caller ID before the screen goes dark- Manberg Medical Center.

Strange, he thinks. 

Oh, well. It’s none of his business, really.

They make their way into the city, winding through several districts as the sky grows darker overhead. When they finally arrive, Techno parks the car in a tucked-away, hidden nook. 

“Stay in the car,” Phil reminds them just before he and his sons depart. “Get us on the radio if you see anything weird or if anyone approaches you.” Tubbo and Ranboo nod, and with that the heroes disappear.

The old office building looks over them, dark and seemingly vacant.

“Don’t you worry, Tommy,” Tubbo whispers under his breath. “Help is on the way.”