Chapter Text
“C’mon, kid, just do it,” Schlatt had whispered in his ear, reeking of alcohol and smoke. “If you stab him now, you get it over with, and then it’s easy in the future.”
Tommy shook his head, hands barely gripping the knife. “I can’t.”
“You don’t have a fuckin’ choice,” He breathed, grabbing Tommy’s hands from behind and holding them around the knife.
Tommy flailed, trying his best to escape the hold, but the strength was overwhelming and he knew his chances were slim. Still, he fought, even if it was to no avail. The knife was getting closer and closer to the unconscious man’s chest, to the point where it was inches away and Tommy couldn’t do anything to stop it. Then, without warning, Schlatt took a step back, and pushed Tommy so hard that the knife slid into the man, right where his heart was.
Schlatt smiled at him, patting Tommy’s shaking shoulders. “Good job, kid.”
Then the vision twisted, morphing until Schlatt’s looming face was right above him, and he was standing in the living room with the family tied to chairs. Tommy had another knife in his hand, and Schlatt was laughing, the sound filling the entire room and cursing Tommy’s ears.
“Do it again,” Schlatt mused, “do it again or I’ll make it slow and do it myself.”
He’d often wondered, before, why he’d been blessed with godhood in the first place. He never found the will; his powers weren’t violent, nor dangerous. He couldn’t get himself out of situations like these, and even with hundreds of years of experience, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d always be too young to save what needed to be saved.
And suddenly, before he could do anything to stop it, his body was moving forward and the knife was nearing Phil’s chest and he was begging, praying for mercy and he could do nothing to stop it-
Tommy woke up with a start, his breaths quick and frantic, feeling the way sweat soaked through his shirt. He looked over at the clock, only slightly relieved that it only read four fifty-five. He didn’t have school in the morning regardless; it was a Saturday, and Phil still had to finish setting up the paperwork. Joining in the middle of the year wasn’t the most ideal thing, but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
Evidently, he decided, not getting enough sleep was barely an issue. The real problem was falling back asleep. He surely wasn’t unfamiliar with nightmares; he’d had plenty of experience, whether he liked it or not. That left him here, trying to collect himself at four in the morning.
Tommy pushed himself out of bed, shaking the tiredness out of his limbs and opening his bag, digging until he found what he’d been looking for. Years ago, when he’d been under Sam’s mechanic apprenticeship, they’d taken a picture together. It certainly wasn’t much. They hadn’t even posed, before Purpled pulled out his ridiculous black-and-white camera and taken a picture of the two, sitting at the desk and pooling over some absurd blueprints. But Tommy had been smiling, and Sam was laughing at something he’d said, so the picture was perfect all the same.
The time he’d spend with them was something he’d always appreciate. Sam had found him in an orphanage (one he’d only recently gotten stuck in), actually, looking for people he could take on to help Purpled in the workshop. Tommy had been endlessly stubborn that day, and even now, Tommy hadn’t a clue why Sam had even considered taking him under his wing, but Sam had smiled at his antics and taken him anyways.
He knew he couldn’t stay long. He appeared young, and staying young was something he knew wouldn’t end well. So, after a year, he’d packed his things one night, not saying a word to Sam or Purpled, and left, traveling to a new city with the new name. He rotated between three; Thomas, Tommy, and Todd. Tommy was his favored one, obviously, so he’d always claim that as his nickname. Nobody really paid too much attention to a blond, blue-eyed teenage boy.
The guilt he’d felt for leaving chewed at him for years. He knew he should’ve given a warning, and he knew he shouldn’t have gotten attached, but he’d up and done it anyway, trying to ignore any thoughts about it.
(Tommy didn’t know it, but Sam had watched his door for months, waiting patiently and agonizingly for the boy he’d grown so close to finally return. He missed the laughter, missed the abrasive personality and kind intentions. It took too long, however, and after two years, he stopped looking for the boy he’d begun to think of as a son. Time moved on, but little did Sam know, the boy he’d adored would forever stay the same.)
Ever since then, he did whatever he could to keep relationships at a distance.
The Allens’ were no exception. He’d learned the best method wasn’t to push away, but to engage in some conversations, keep others one-sided. If he showed too much weakness, they’d start to grow concerned and do what they could to fix whatever messed up kid they’d happened to foster. If he was too eager, well-
He didn’t want to feel the way he’d felt after he left Sam’s.
Tommy sighed, shoving the picture back in the bottom of his bag. It was horrible quality, now, the edges crinkled and torn and the black-and-white coloring tinted yellow. It was his, however, and it helped preserve the memory of the people he was able to call family for a small portion of his life.
He wished to believe it was a mistake, but no matter how much he’d tried, the idea was never able to stick. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he thought of the memories and cursed himself for his foolish thinking, he never regretted it.
That didn’t stop him from never doing it again, however.
He moved back over to the bed, lost in his thoughts. Being here felt wrong, in the sense that he felt something was going to go wrong, and as he laid his head on the pillow, he couldn’t help but question what all of it meant in the first place.
Tommy didn’t fall back asleep.
—-------
When he woke up that morning, he couldn’t not listen in on the tense whispers he could hear from downstairs. It must’ve been something he’d gotten after coming back from limbo, after he’d gotten his godhood; he’d been able to pick up more, including the way the blades of grass rubbed against one another, or the sounds leaves made when they were pushed back and forth from the wind. He’d learned to tune it out, because it tended to get awfully loud, but he’d always been a bit nosy.
“Don’t start bullshitting me now,” Wilbur’s voice. “You didn’t realize it?”
“I felt something, but I don’t want to suspect.” Techno.
“It’s messed up! Not him, just-” he sighed. “I wanna get what’s going on, but I don’t think I should ask him about it.”
“You shouldn’t. If he felt it too, we’ll find out eventually.”
“This is fucking weird, Tech.”
“I know. We can’t jump to conclusions. You have to understand how weird it would sound to him. ‘Hey, I know we just met, but you give my whole family this weird deja-vu and it won’t go away!’ We’d sound like maniacs.”
“Maybe we are. Maybe I have something going on. Oh, damn it, what if I need to go to a psychologist-”
“Wilbur, you don’t have any more mental illnesses other than the ones we already know about.”
“You don’t know that. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“I think I know enough.”
Tommy tuned out, trying to decipher what exactly they’d been talking about. The deja-vu stuff was really weirding him the fuck out. If he’d been here before, in this town, and he didn’t remember, he’d be in deep with some serious government shit. It’d happened before, when he’d been in the states for a bit. That place was a fuckin’ catastrophe.
If they felt it too, there was bound to be a reason, and Tommy couldn’t help the underlying anxiety it brought him. If they caught on to something before he did, they could screw him over and Tommy would have to deal with the fallout of explaining his non-aging in the most coherent way possible. He may have been powerful, but he couldn’t just mass-erase people’s memories.
He’d have to keep an eye out. These two were obviously close, and Tommy was certain they’d had hushed conversations like this more times than not. If he wanted to get a better grip on it, he just had to stick his nose in places it wasn’t wanted.
Tommy took a breath, before opening the door and walking down the stairs, causing the two to halt their conversation and hold the worst cover-up Tommy had ever seen. Wilbur was still in his pajamas, those checkered black and red pants that everyone seemed to have, and a hoodie that was too big for even him. Techno looked even worse off; his sweatpants were exceedingly baggy, and the t-shirt he had on seemed to have more tiny holes than a shirt. Both teenagers turned to him, plastering fabricated smiles on their faces.
Wilbur spoke up first, gesturing to the table. “Phil’ll be back in a bit. He went to the grocery store to get some more shit. Speaking of which, he’ll probably take you on a trip soon. He’ll need to get that phone, and more clothes. Oh, and some snacks that you like. Techno and I always get our own, and I know Tech’s a bitch whenever someone eats his shit-”
Wilbur cut himself off, clearing his throat. “Sorry. I was rambling. Phil would’ve made breakfast, but he didn’t know when you’d get up, so we’ve got cereal. Cap’n Crunch, Cinnamon Toast, Lucky Charms, or Raisin Brand.”
“Raisin Brand is fine, thanks.”
“Wait, wait, hold up,” Wilbur turned around to look at him, a disbelieving smile on his face. “You voluntarily eat Raisin Brand?”
Tommy frowned. “It’s good shit.”
Techno nodded, but said nothing more.
“Techno, don’t take his side! It literally has the word raisin in its name.”
He shrugged. “Raisins are good.”
“You’re a disgrace of a brother.”
“Sorry I’m healthy.”
Tommy scoffed, watching the conversation unfold with mild interest.
Wilbur glanced over at him, his eyes widening. “Oh, sorry, shit- I’ll get your devil’s cereal.”
“It’s fine, man,” Tommy shook his head. “I’m not your priority. I can get my own. I don’t wanna make you do shit for a kid you just met.”
Wilbur waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I know how shitty the foster system can be. I wanna make this feel the least amount of shitty as I can.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Certain.”
He started grabbing a bowl, frantically pouring in the milk, then the cereal right after.
Oh, fuck no.
“Wilbur,” Tommy began, eyeing the bowl with disgust. “Did you just put the milk first?”
He turned back to Tommy, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? That’s the way Phil does it. Techno, isn’t that how you do it too?”
Techno smirked at him. “I’m not a heathen.”
“Why would that make me a heathen?”
“Because what kind of person puts milk first?” Tommy asked, incredulous.
Wilbur shrugged. “Me, I guess.”
Tommy shook his head in disbelief, and mild disappointment. “You must not have cereal often.”
“I don’t.”
“Fuckin’ figures.”
Finally, Wilbur got the cereal situation figured out, and Tommy murmured thanks despite the mishap they’d had. Both of the twins didn’t eat anything, and Tommy had to admit, it felt a little awkward just sitting there while the pair discussed who knows what.
Phil opened the door suddenly, bags of groceries in his hands. “Before you go outside, I’ve got it all.” He paused, putting the bags on the kitchen counter. “Morning, Tommy. I ended up getting that phone, but I didn’t wanna get anything personalizable in case you want specifics, so we’ll have to go to the store again tomorrow.”
Tommy smiled at him, and he was surprised to find it was sincere. “Thanks, Phil.”
He watched the man move around, putting the groceries in separate places. At one point, Tommy had offered to help, but Phil had brushed him off and told him not to worry. While he was putting chips in the cabinet, he turned around to face Tommy.
“You’re free to say no, but Kathy told me you had a thing for plants at your last foster home, and I’ve got a garden that really needs tending to right now. So, if you want to, you can join me.”
He ignored the way his mark burned, and considered what it really meant. If he went with Phil, he had to run the risk of unnecessary conversation. On the other hand, he’d get a go at a garden, and even if he didn’t go around announcing it, he loved the way the plants seemed to grow under his hand, or thrive after his touch.
Phil wasn’t too bad, he supposed. And he got Tommy a phone. He knew the phone couldn’ve been leverage, and even if Phil didn’t feel like that kind of person, it wouldn’t do any harm to stay on the man's good side.
He didn’t know how Kathy had found out about the planting, however. He only did it when he’d left the house, or saw something on his way around the town where his old foster home was.
“Sure,” Tommy said after a break of silence that was probably too long.
Phil smiled at him, and he looked almost proud.
Fuckin’ weirdos.
“Well, I’ll be out there,” Phil gestured behind himself. “Meet me when you’re ready.”
“I will.”
Once Phil went out the door, the twins shared a look, and Tommy crossed his arms in his chair and leaned back. “What was that about? Twin telepathy or some shit?”
“Nothing,” Techno mused, a smirk on his face. “Nothing at all.”
“As if that’s not ominous as fuck!”
Techno just shrugged, and when Tommy looked at Wilbur, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me. I’m not related to that guy.”
“You’re my brother, Wilbur. We were born on the same day,” Techno deadpanned.
“We could’ve been switched at birth.”
“You’re so fucking weird.”
Wilbur shrugged. “I do my best.”
Tommy ignored the pair, emptying his bowl in the sink, and, after grabbing his shoes, walked over to where Phil had gone. The door was glass, and he could already see the edges of leaves peeking out from the corner.
He pushed the door open, trying to be as quiet as possible. He turned the corner, and the sight of Phil kneeling over in front of something was almost funny. Not in a mocking sort of way; Phil just seemed committed, focusing entirely on what was in front of him.
Tommy hadn’t even known this man for a day, and he was already thinking about trying to scare the shit out of him from behind. He didn’t, however, instead focusing on coming up from the side so Phil could see him from his peripheral.
“Hey, Phil,” Tommy said, trying not to startle him. “What do you want me to mess with?”
He turned around, contemplating something. “Anywhere. You’re probably just as good with plants as I am, so go ahead and do what you think’ll help.”
Phil was wrong about that. Tommy was definitely better with plants, but he wasn’t about to go brag about it like an asshole. He had some decorum.
Tommy moved as far away from Phil as he could, and kneeled down quietly. There were a variety of things; potatoes (an ungodly amount), lettuce, carrots, tomatoes. If he was being completely honest, Phil wasn’t doing too bad of a job. They were well-maintained, and taken care of well, but if Tommy put his hand on the grass, focusing quietly, and made sure the plants had enough nutrients for the near future, that was his business and his business only.
He grabbed a watering can from beside the wall, filling it up just enough and watering the plants a reasonable amount. Of course, he could’ve hydrated them without it, but that probably would’ve caused Phil to wonder why he hadn’t grabbed a can in the first place. So, here he was, doing it the old-fashioned way.
He would’ve much rather done it his way, but it got the job done.
It was relaxing, the quiet work the pair were doing. Phil didn’t try to initiate any kind of conversation, and Tommy was beyond grateful for it. Not that he disliked Phil. The silence was just comfortable, in a way, and it reminded him how it’d been with Sam, individually working on their own projects, asking each other questions every once in a while.
Tommy was grateful for the distraction, but he didn’t think he’d ever tell Phil that out loud.
He had a reputation, after all, and Tommy really didn’t want to deal with attachments all over again.
(He thought so, at least. It was starting to be less and less clear, and that was something he didn’t want to consider. These were strangers. They were a family.
But would it be so bad to have a few friends?)