Chapter Text
It’s surprisingly easy to get everyone to leave him and Dream alone in Phil’s Crow Father office/frequent makeshift infirmary, considering he’s the reason Dream is here in the first place but Tommy’s not complaining.
The room is pretty much the same as when he had stayed there the last time, the few chairs that normally occupy the room have been shoved out into the hallway save for one at the edge of the bed. The room is small and the bed and chair take up most of the space, but there is a small bedside table on the opposite side of the bed from the chair. The table has things like tylenol and bandages and stuff like that on it, with whatever doesn’t fit on the table being shoved on the ledge of the window behind the bed.
Tommy begins scowling at Dream the minute the door shuts and they’re alone, studying his ruined face.. His eyes are a much tamer green than his Dream’s, more like sage, Tommy thinks they compliment the purple of his bruised face quite well, too.
He narrows his eyes. He has a theory, a theory that, in the back of his head he knows is true, but still he can’t be too sure just yet. There’s only one way to test it. Actually there are multiple ones, only one fun way though.
Idly, Tommy strolls over to the side of the bed with the chair but makes no move to sit down at it. For several seconds he just stands there, staring into Dream’s eyes.
Eventually the man gets tired of it. “Wha–”
Then, quick as a whip, Tommy winds back his hand and moves it forward just an inch, as if he’s going to punch Dream again. Ah, there it is. He flinches. The green eyed man flinches back into his pillow, closing his eyes and bracing himself for a blow to the face. Nothing comes and after a moment Tommy sits down and folds his hands in his lap.
Dream blinks his eyes open in confusion, scrunching up his nose. “Why didn’t you punch me?”
Tommy shrugs. “Because you don’t deserve it,” a beat, “at least I don’t think you do.”
“That didn’t stop you yesterday,” he snorts, rubbing one of his bruises like a crybaby.
“Wow, way to be a bitch about it,” Tommy rolls his eyes, “I fucking thought you were D–...someone else. Dick.”
Dream’s eyebrows furrow. “Who?”
“Dream.”
“I am Dream,” he says, looking confused.
“Yeah, uh, different Dream,” Tommy clarifies.
“How many people do you know with the name Dream?”
“Just you and that fucking other bitch, okay? What’s with the goddamn interrogation?” Tommy voice rises but he can’t bring himself to care, just staring at Dream’s stupid face makes him angry (and scared).
“Sorry,” Dream shrugs in surrender. They spend a moment in silence, looking at each other. Finally Dream narrows his eyes. “What are you here for?”
The room’s air is thick with tension. What is Tommy here for? He doesn’t need Dream for his plan, he can just grab on his way out, really, but…things are less complicated this way. He won’t need to pull as many strings, use as much force if Dream knows what they’re doing ahead of time. And, maybe he can help. Just a bit. Sometimes teamwork can be a good thing, even with someone who wears the face of your abuser.
Tommy bites his lip. “I think…neither of us are where we’re meant to be.”
Dream’s eyebrows raise slightly and he props himself more upright on the pillows, folding his hands and listening closely.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Phil shuffles into the room, closing the door behind him. He is the last to arrive, with everyone else already sitting in chairs pulled out from under the large, square table in the center of the room. Phil takes a seat in between Scott and Tommy, who sits at the head of the table, his hands folded on the surface of it, an unusual air of seriousness surrounds the boy.
The room is dimly lit and there isn’t much in it except for the table, none of the side rooms of the youtube are very big. The silence hangs over the table for a moment before Tommy speaks up.
“Right, well lets begin,” he says, though none of them really know what exactly it is that they’re beginning. “I know we’ve never really had…a server meeting before, not with everyone at least. And that’s because we’ve never really had this serious of a problem. Or any kind of problem, to be honest.”
“This about that goddamn clearing?” Schlatt, an arachnid sitting across the table from Tommy asks in a gruff tone. He clenches his teeth.
“Yes, it is,” Tommy confirms. “It may be difficult to make a decision, especially since none of us really know what we’re dealing with here, but as your admin it’s my job to keep you safe and listen to what you have to say,” there is a pause, “so, the floor is open to anyone who has ideas on how to handle the situation.”
Immediately the table erupts into chaos. There are too many voices overlapping, all yelling different things that Tommy can barely even make out one of them.
Quackity, the only human at the table, is speaking in a tone lower than most everyone else and is seemingly addressing Wilbur alone. They both wear expressions of mixed doubt and concern. Niki is talking much louder than she usually does in a high pitched tone laced with worry. She gestures wildly with her hands as she speaks, but doesn’t stand like some do, needing to keep her feet in the little well of water they’ve made on the floor for her. Schlatt looks like he’s just yelling to yell, and is hardly even speaking real words. Bastard. He shouts for silence but his voice is easily drowned out by the cacophony.
Ranboo, who had previously been seated awkwardly at one of the table’s corners, leaning back dangerously far in her chair, narrows her eyes. She watches Tommy struggling to get the mayhem under control and then, in the blink of an eye, she is gone from the chair and instead sitting cross legged on the middle of the table. At first, some people don’t even notice her, too busy shouting at each other to care, but when she slams her fist against the table, the room quiets and all eyes fall on her.
“I say,” Ranboo starts carefully, “that we get rid of the outsiders.” The atmosphere drops into dead silence. You could hear a pin drop.
“What?” Tommy asks, his voice soft and small.
Ranboo purses her lips. “They seem to be the root of the problem, if you think about it. Clearly, there was already something wrong, some way to get through to here from another server, my theory is that when Theseus came through that little rip in the server’s code, he made the hole bigger, made it easier for Dream to get here. And when Dream got through, well you know,” she reasons.
“So you think that if we somehow get rid of Dream and Theseus, that fluke, the hole, will close up? Or at least get smaller? Is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Ranboo admits, “like you said, we’re all pretty out of our depth here, but,” a grin spreads across the Ender hybrid’s face like butter on toast, “I do think it’s worth a try, don’t you?”
Slowly, Tommy nods, his eyes still looking rather unsure. “Okay,” he finally says. “Does anyone disagree?”
A murmur passes over the table, but no one makes their voice clear, and so it seems as though they’re all on the same page.
“Good,” Tommy breathes, “meeting adjourned then.”