Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy was okay with being the only human in a family of hybrids.

Tubbo had his bee wings and his antenna. Phil had bat wings and fangs. Techno had tusks and floppy ears (Tommy was 60% sure he had a tail too, but he’d never seen it). Wilbur had GILLS and scales. 

And Tommy had nothing. That was fine with him.

Sometimes he’d get a bit jealous. I mean, Tubbo and Phil could fly! Wilbur could breathe underwater! It was cool!

But after hearing how painful it is when their hybrid traits came out, Tommy was okay with just being a plain, regular human. 

He didn’t remember much about when Wilbur got his traits, as he’d been only three or four at the time. Techno had locked himself in his room when his traits started coming in, so Tommy didn’t know anything about what happened there either, despite being seven when it happened.

Tubbo’s though, he was there for Tubbo’s.

They were both ten when Tubbo’s wings and antenna started coming in, and they had shared a room at the time. The biggest things he could remember was listening to Tubbo cry, and then sleeping on the couch for a few days after his wings came out.

Everyone knew that hybrids get their traits anywhere from ten to twelve years old. Both Techno and Wilbur got their traits at twelve, Tubbo got his just a week before his eleventh birthday. 

Tommy wouldn’t admit it, but he was both relieved and disappointed when he turned thirteen with no traits revealing themselves.

But...

Tommy remembered how, when it first started, Tubbo would complain about his back itching and how his shirt kept bothering him. Then it just turned into complaints about how much his back hurt. Then, probably shortly before the wings came out, seeing Tubbo sob in his bed before begging him to go get Phil. All in the span of a day.

So... even though he was sixteen now... maybe he should be concerned about how itchy and red his back was. And how itchy his scalp felt.

Tommy stared at his back in the mirror, frowning at how red his skin had become seemingly overnight. It itched like hell, even with his shirt off. Scratching it just hurt, and didn’t offer any relief, so he was trying his best to avoid doing that. 

“Hey Dad?” Tommy called, pulling his shirt back on and grimacing at how it rubbed against his back. “Did we switch laundry detergent or something?”

“No? I don’t think so, let me check,” Phil called back from downstairs as Tommy exited the bathroom. “No, we didn’t. Why?”

“Just wondering,” Tommy dismissed it, absentmindedly scratching his head. Unlike his back, scratching his head did make him feel better. Maybe he was allergic to his shirt or his sheets or something. He went to the room that he still shared with Tubbo to change.

Unfortunately, Tubbo was still inside it, pulling on his shoes to get ready for school. Tommy didn’t care too much, just tugged off his shirt once more as he looked for a new one. They’d changed in front of each other dozens, maybe even hundreds of times. 

“What’s with your back?” Tubbo asked curiously from behind him as Tommy rummaged through their closet.

“Allergic to my shirt or some shit,” Tommy shrugged, wincing slightly at the action. He wasn’t exactly sure why that hurt, but it did. “It’ll go away.”

“You look like you scratched it all to hell. Put some lotion on it or something.”

“I’ll do it when we get home.”

“If you want a ride, you better get down here!” Wilbur called from downstairs.

Tommy grabbed a loose-fitting shirt and pulled it on. It didn’t bother him as much as the other one did, but it still did. Whatever, he’d manage. He grabbed his backpack and his shoes that he hadn’t put on yet and bolted down the stairs, Tubbo just a few steps behind him.

Techno was sitting at the table, doing his physics homework from college. A ten-pound textbook at his left hand and a notebook at his right, his toast sitting untouched in front of him.

Wilbur was standing at the front door, shifting back and forth impatiently as he twirled his car keys on his fingers. Tommy ignored the annoyed look Wilbur gave him in favor of plopping down on the couch to pull on his shoes. 

“Have either of you eaten?” Phil asked as he entered the kitchen.

“I’ll grab food from school,” Tommy said.

“That shit’s nasty and you know it,” Techno drawled, not looking up from his homework.

Tubbo tossed Tommy a pop tart right as he finished putting on his shoes. Tommy caught it, stuffed it in his mouth to hold onto it by his teeth, and pulled on his backpack, absentmindedly patting his pocket even though he already knew both his phone and headphones were there.

“Shotgun!” Tubbo yelled, bolting out the door. 

“That’s not fair! I’m practically a foot taller than you!” Tommy yelped, taking the pop tart out of his mouth and chasing after him. “You can actually FIT in the backseat! I can’t!”

“It’s the wings, baby!” Tubbo cheered, flicking them in Tommy’s direction with a grin on his face as he dove into the passenger seat.

“Bitch!” Tommy shouted back, grumbling as he got into the backseat. 

———

Tommy was not in the best mood by the end of the school day. 

His back was fucking killing him. It’d gotten to the point that he was just holding his backpack instead of actually wearing it. Tubbo kept giving him concerned looks, especially when he didn’t call shotgun as soon as they stepped foot outside the school. He just trudged towards Phil’s car in pained silence, not even really noticing that Tubbo got in the backseat instead of diving for the front as he usually did.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked as soon as Tommy sat down, noticing the expression on his face.

“Nothing,” Tommy said softly, wincing slightly as he shrugged. Fuck, that hurt. A lot. “Glad it’s Friday.”

“You don’t look like it,” Phil sounded worried, but Tommy just closed his eyes and didn’t answer, gritting his teeth. He reached up and absentmindedly started scratching his itchy head. Did he have lice? Man, that would fucking suck.

His shirt was bothering him, a lot. He just wanted something soft. He just wanted the pain to go away.

He didn’t really notice when they got home, he just stumbled out of the car, holding his backpack and trudging up the stairs without a word. 

He stopped by his room to throw his backpack in it before stepping into the bathroom to take a shower. 

Tommy took a painkiller from the medicine cabinet, before getting into the shower without even bothering taking off his clothes or waiting for the water to warm up.

He closed his eyes and just standing underneath the spray of the cold water. It did feel nice against his back and his scalp, and it made him forget that he was still half-dressed and the water was absolutely soaking his jeans and his sneakers. 

Tommy stood underneath the shower until his teeth chattered together and he was shivering violently. But his back was numb and it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it had before. He stumbled out of the shower, his pants and sneakers completely soaked. He grabbed his towel and dried off to the best of his ability.

He cursed himself, realizing he hadn’t grabbed a change of clothes before coming in here.

“Tommy? Are you alright?” Tubbo asked quietly from the other side of the door. “You’ve been in there for a while. And you weren’t looking great when we got home.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy mumbled. “My back’s fuckin’ killing me. Can you bring me some clothes? I forgot them.”

“Yeah... I’m gonna get Phil too.”

Tommy wanted to protest, but he was too distracted by what felt like something MOVING beneath his back.

He turned and looked at his back in the mirror, and something moved beneath his skin. He both saw and felt it.

Tommy froze. What the fuck?

What the fuck was that?

“Tommy, I’ve got clothes,” Tubbo was back. “Open the door.”

Tommy was frozen, staring at his still red back as something moved underneath it again. Every time the thing moved, his back just grew more and more painful. 

“Tommy, you gotta open the door,” Tubbo said softly from the other side. 

“Here,” that was Phil. “I’ve got a key.”

That snapped Tommy out of whatever trance he was in. “No, I’m coming.”

He opened the door and stuck his hand out. As soon as the clothes were put in his hand, he pulled them inside and shut the door. He stripped out of his soaked clothes and pulled on the dry ones. The shirt still bothered his back.

“Thanks,” he opened the door, finding Phil and Tubbo both standing there with worried looks on their faces.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Tommy said dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

———

Tommy picked at his food during dinner. He kept feeling the thing moving beneath his back, but he couldn’t quite comprehend that this was actually happening, so he tried his best to ignore it. He was human. He was human. He wasn’t a hybrid. Hybrid traits don’t show up after twelve years old. Everyone knows that. He was human.

“What’s wrong with you?” Techno asked bluntly, making Tommy look up. “You’ve been silent this whole time. Normally we can’t get you to shut up.”

“Now that I think about it, you have been really quiet today,” Wilbur teased. “Are you sick? Do you have a fever?”

“My back hurts,” Tommy shrugged, only vaguely aware that he was scratching at his head again. “I don’t feel very good.”

“Good thing we don’t have school tomorrow then, right?” Tubbo tried to cheer him up. 

“Right,” Tommy said quietly, feeling the thing move again and wincing slightly. The pain had been dulled, thanks to the painkillers, but it was still present unfortunately. “I might turn in early, if that’s alright.”

“Of course it’s alright,” Phil smiled. “Do you want something blander to help settle your stomach?”

“Ah, no,” Tommy stood up and picked up his plate of barely eaten food. “I’m not hungry. Sorry, Dad.”

“Eat something in the morning,” Techno suggested.

“I will,” Tommy promised, putting his plate in the sink before heading upstairs.

He was immediately going to go to bed, but he stopped, remembering something. Tommy crouched down at the trunk at the end of his bed, one that held spare bedding and such. When he opened it, what he was looking for sat on top.

It was a blanket, well-loved. Phil said it had been his once. Tommy had a faint memory of Wilbur being wrapped up in it before his scales came through, and he knew that Tubbo had used it when his wings were coming in.

It was the softest thing he’d ever touched, and Phil had given it to him after Tubbo grew his wings. Saying something like “you’ll know when you need it”. It’d been sitting in the trunk untouched for about five years.

Guess he really had known when he’d need it.

Tommy pulled it out of the trunk and closed it, pulling off his shirt and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders like a cape. Almost instantaneous relief. The itching in his back faded and he honestly would’ve cried, but he was too busy burrowing into it. 

He laid down on his stomach on the bed, burrowing deeper into the soft blanket, glad for the break in the itching on his back. His head still itched, but he just scratched it absentmindedly as he hummed in contentment. 

The blanket had no right to be this soft, but dammit, he wasn’t complaining. Tommy closed his eyes and felt himself drift off. Not even the things twitching underneath the skin of his back could stop him from falling asleep.

He was human. He was human.

———

Tommy woke up in agony.

Light was coming in through the window, so he knew it was morning. But his back hurt so bad tears were overflowing his eyes mere seconds after opening them. His fingers dug into the mattress and his whole body stiffened.

He couldn’t breathe, he didn’t dare breathe in fear that he would scream the moment air came into his lungs. He let out a choked noise, grinding his teeth together, as his body trembled.

“Tommy? Are you okay?” 

That was Tubbo. Tubbo came over and gently rested a hand on Tommy’s head. 

“Tommy, breathe. You need to breathe.”

Tommy let out another choked noise. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t.

“Phil! Wilbur! Techno! Anyone!” Tubbo sounded alarmed, and scared. “Anyone! Get in here!”

Tommy heard the door open, and footsteps rush in. His lungs started to burn, but he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. 

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsmakeitstop-

He finally did manage to inhale, and then exhale. It was loud, in a gasp-like way, and it was embarrassing but he didn’t care. It hurts but he could BREATHE.

Slowly, much too slowly, the pain faded into something that was more manageable. It still hurt really bad, but it was agonizing. 

“Fuck...” Tommy exhaled slowly, his body no longer stiff. He tried his best to turn his head and look at who was around him. Tubbo was the closest, Phil next to him, with Wilbur and Techno behind them. All of them had various degrees of surprise, and concern on their faces. “What the fuck was that?” He asked weakly.

“Tommy,” Phil said slowly as Wilbur pulled out his phone and furiously began googling something. “How long has your back been hurting?”

Chapter Text

“Yesterday,” Tommy was trying to catch his breath. “I woke up with like... a rash... or something. It started hurting... around lunch? Maybe?”

Tubbo’s wings were buzzing anxiously, and his antenna kept swiveling around.

Wilbur’s eyes were scanning something on his phone, and Techno looked concerned. 

“You have the soft blanket,” Techno pointed out. “Why?”

“It’s the only thing that didn’t bother my back,” Tommy mumbled, burrowing deeper into it. 

“That particular kind of blanket’s only ever really used when hybrid traits are coming in,” Phil explained. “Because its soft enough to not bother the irritated skin when the traits come out.”

“I’m not a hybrid. I’m sixteen. It’s a little late, don’t you think?” Tommy snarked.

“Actually,” Wilbur piped in without looking up from his phone. “According to this: “While most hybrids present their traits from ten to twelve years old, the oldest a hybrid has been when their traits grew in was nineteen, back in 2006. It’s estimated that 1 in 1000 hybrids will have their traits come in later then twelve”.”

“I’m human,” Tommy protested weakly.

“I don’t think so...” Tubbo said gently. 

“You’re just a late bloomer,” Techno tried to lighten the mood, which, to be fair, Tommy did chuckle a bit. 

“Tommy, have you felt anything... moving... underneath your skin?” Phil asked.

He nodded. The moment that it was acknowledged, he felt the thing move again, and he grimaced, closing his eyes. 

“I’m going to take the blanket off, okay?” Tommy didn’t like the idea, but he didn’t stop Phil as he tugged the blanket down. He let out a sharp breath as someone put their hand on his back. The thing moved again, pressing up against the person’s hand. 

“That’s weird,” Tubbo said softly. “I mean, it just looks weird.”

Tommy didn’t respond. The pain was building again, this time he could actually feel the thing- oh god, there were two. Not one. When did one become two? Anyways, they were moving again.

“Wilbur, Tubbo, Techno,” Phil whispered. “Get out of the house for today, okay? I’ll stay with him and text you if anything changes. You remember how I did it for yours, we’re going to do the same thing here.”

“But-” Tubbo started to protest, but was cut off.

“You remember what I said when your wings were coming in,” Phil said sternly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Now go. I’ll text you if anything changes.”

Tommy didn’t look up as he heard three pairs of footsteps leave the room, he was focused on the quickly growing pain between his shoulder blades. His body tensed, and he felt tears building up in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. 

He clenched his teeth as his body shook, the things underneath his skin seemed to be trying to push THROUGH it, but they weren’t successful. All they were doing was hurting him, pushing at already irritated skin but not breaking it.

His throat made a noise he’d never heard from himself before, and he dug his fingers into the mattress. Fuck. Fuck. Whydoesithurtsobadpleasestopohgod-

Phil’s hand gently combed through his hair, humming one of Tommy’s favorite songs as Tommy made another choked noise. He couldn’t breathe. 

“Tommy, I know it hurts, but you have to breathe,” Phil said gently. “You have to breathe. It’s not going to do you any favors if you don’t breathe.”

Tommy managed to suck in a breath, and then another. 

“That’s it, that’s it. Good. You’re doing great.”

Tommy refused to cry, even though he was in agony he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t. Whydoesithurtsomuchpleasestopplease-

“It hurts,” Tommy choked out, his body trembling. 

“I know, I know it does,” Phil continued to comb his way through Tommy’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

The pain started fading again as the things in his back stilled, and Tommy slumped against the mattress, desperately trying not to cry. He made another pained noise, head burying into his pillow, before he turned his head to look at Phil.

“I think you have wings,” Phil hummed, brushing Tommy’s hair out of his face. “Do your teeth hurt at all? What about your head?”

“My scalps like... itchy,” Tommy mumbled. “It doesn’t hurt that much, though.”

“Tubbo said his head was itchy when his antenna were growing in, but I only see two, not four wings,” Phil was looking at his back now, seeming puzzled. 

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want to do this,” Tommy admitted. “It hurts. I don’t want it. I just want to be human.”

Phil’s face softened. “I know,” he said gently. “I know. But none of us can stop it. It’ll be over soon. Wings are one of the most painful traits to grow in, and they take the longest too. Tubbo’s took about two to three hours. Mine took almost five.”

“Hours?” Tommy asked weakly.

“It might be different for you, because I don’t know what kind of wings you have,” Phil admitted. “But yes, hours.”

Tommy wilted, and Phil grabbed his hand.

“The pain will come in waves,” Phil explained softly. “So it won’t be constant. Once the claws on your wings poke through, it’ll be less painful. At that point it’ll just be them coming out.”

“Claws?”

Phil pulled his wing around and pointed to a sharp talon that was on the joint. “Tubbo has them too, but in a different place. It’s safe to assume that you do too. The claws will make a clean cut through your back as an opening for your wings to come through.”

“That sounds fun,” Tommy said sarcastically. 

“It won’t hurt as badly afterwards. For now, it’s just a matter of your wings orienting themselves so they face the right way.”

“Which will take hours,” Tommy grimaced as he felt his wings move again, reaching up to scratch his head.

“Depending on how big they are, yes. But they’ll grow after they’re out too, so don’t be worried if they’re small.”

Tommy was going to make a joke, but the words drained out of him when Phil started massaging his scalp. That felt good. That was nice. He was practically blue screening at the action. 

Even his wings stilled once Phil started scratching his head softly. 

“Oh,” Phil’s fingers stilled for a moment, before he started tracing something behind Tommy’s ear. “Hey Tommy?”

“Mhmm?” Tommy hummed, eyes half-closed.

“Techno has a friend with feathered wings, doesn’t he?”

“Mhmm.”

“What’s his number?”

“In my phone,” Tommy mumbled. “Contact named: “green boi”.”

“What’s his actual name?”

“Dream.”

———

“I don’t like this,” Tubbo had said that same phrase at least five times since they’d left the house.

“We know. You’ve said it,” Wilbur, surprisingly, wasn’t the one driving. He was instead sitting passenger as Techno drove. 

“Multiple times,” Techno deadpanned. 

“I don’t feel right just leaving him!” Tubbo snapped. “He’s in pain, we should be there!”

“You remember how Dad kicked Tommy out of the room when your wings grew in?” Techno asked. “It’s the same principle, really. Yeah, he’s in pain. But what Dad’s doing is trying to shield you from seeing him like that. It changes your view of someone, when you see them in as much pain as growing their traits causes. He’s trying to preserve your view of Tommy, so you don’t see him at his worst.”

“Especially since you can’t DO anything,” Wilbur pointed out. “You’re just sitting there, waiting for it to be over. I know you want to be there, but you can’t do anything to help him, Tubbo. Dad’s there to comfort him, the rest of us will just be a crowd. Best to wait until it’s over.”

Tubbo didn’t respond, still frustrated. 

“Listen,” Techno continued, his voice less harsh. “I know you and Tommy stuck with each other through the foster system. I know you both are close. But the best thing you can do for Tommy right now is to be there when it’s over.”

Tubbo still didn’t respond, scowling.

Techno’s phone went off, and Tubbo lunged for it, snatching it out of the cup holder before either Techno or Wilbur could grab it.

“Give me my phone, gremlin child,” Techno snapped.

“That’s Tommy. And no. No texting and driving,” Tubbo kicked the back of Techno’s chair as he turned on Techno’s phone.

green pissbaby: why is your dad texting me

A second later, a second message appeared on the screen.

green pissbaby: using gremlin childs phone

“Dad’s texting Dream using Tommy’s phone?” Tubbo relayed it to his brothers with confusion in his voice.

“What’s Dad saying?” Wilbur asked.

Tubbo typed out a response.

me: whats my dad saaying 

green pissbaby: why are you texting so weird

green pissbaby: hes asking me how to take care of a hybrid growing feathered wings???

green pissbaby: are you guys fostering another kid???

“He’s asking Dream how to take care of a hybrid growing feathered wings,” Tubbo read off the phone. “Dream wants to know if we’re fostering another kid.”

“Gimme my phone,” Techno held out a hand towards the backseat while keeping his eyes on the road.

“No texting and driving, bitch,” Tubbo kicked Techno’s chair again. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell him the truth,” Techno grunted.

me: tommys a hibrid

The three little dots on the corner of the screen immediately popped up, signifying Dream was typing.

green pissbaby: first of all WHAT???????

green pissbaby: hes SIXTEEN

green pissbaby: HES TOO OLD

green pissbaby: secondly

green pissbaby: who is this???

green pissbaby: cause techno doesnt suck this bad at typing

me: its tubbo

me: technos driving

me: and apprntly hibrids over 12 have grone trates before??

green pissbaby: okay

green pissbaby: this is fuckin WEIRD

green pissbaby: but okay

green pissbaby: glad i know the context

“What the fuck is he saying?” Techno sounded annoyed. “He’s only sent like, twenty messages.”

“He knew it wasn’t you because apparently I suck at typing,” Tubbo said nonchalantly. “Also he was confused at the fact Tommy’s a hybrid, but I explained and he just said “glad I know the context”. He hasn’t said anything else. Also, “green pissbaby”?”

“He’s a pissbaby, and he dyes his feathers green like a nerd,” Techno drawled. 

“He’s in my phone as “bitch boi”,” Wilbur offered.

“I’m the only normal one. Good to know,” Tubbo deadpanned. 

“Yeah, even Dad doesn’t put our actual names into the contacts,” Wilbur hummed.

“What?”

“Yeah, I know Tommy’s “gremlin child” in Dad’s phone.”

“WHAT?”

Chapter Text

Tommy could tell that Phil was worried.

The pain kept progressively getting worse, and worse, and worse. It no longer gave him a real break. The breaks would be around thirty seconds, and then it would be over and right back to agony for what felt like hours.

The skin on his back felt like it was going to tear open. His wings were too big, too big for the small area his back held and he knew it instinctively because he just KNEW it wasn’t supposed to hurt this bad.

He just wanted it to stop. Please, please make it stop. 

Dadpleasemakeitstopithurtsithurtsitisntsupposedtohurtthisbadplease-

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, how long it’d been since he’d woken up. How long the pain had lasted for. How long it’d been since Tubbo, Wilbur, and Techno had left. How long it’d been since he’d gotten a break.

Tommy felt something twist underneath his skin, and then what felt like someone stabbing him and dragging the blade down his back. Except the blade was already IN his back, and it was stabbing its way out. Except there wasn’t just one blade, there were two. 

Tommy would’ve cried, if he hadn’t run out of tears. He would’ve screamed, if not for having lost his voice what was probably hours ago. 

His back burned and throbbed and pulsed and Tommy just wanted it to be over. 

Pleasepleasejuststoppleaseletitstoppleasedadmakeitstopdad-

His body was shaking, he knew that much. Tommy was pretty sure he’d bitten through his lip at this point. Ohgodithurtssobadithurtsithurts-

Something felt like it was being shoved outward, out of his back and into open air. The air felt cold against it instead of the warmth of being underneath his skin.

Another thing pushed itself out, hard enough and fast enough to tear. But the minute that it was out almost all the pain went away. Tommy would’ve cried, if he could. 

He was still trembling, the strain of dealing with the pain still not having left him. 

His senses were coming back to him, slowly. Tommy could hear someone’s voice praising him, but they sounded so far away. Too far away for him to register what they were saying to him. He was vaguely aware of someone gently scratching his head, which felt nice. 

The taste of blood was in his mouth, but he didn’t care. The pain was almost all gone. It was almost all gone. He was so tired.

Tommy was drifting. Drifting off to fingers gently massaging his scalp and praises and reassurances and encouragements that he couldn’t quite hear. 

———

Tommy woke up slowly, and the first thing he noticed was that he didn’t hurt anymore.

He was still laying down. Honestly, he probably hadn’t moved at all. His eyes blinked open, and he was staring at the wall his bed was pressed up against in the corner. 

His throat was raw, and his lip throbbed. Tommy wouldn’t be surprised if his voice was shot to shit after all the screaming he’d done yesterday. 

He was thirsty. And hungry as fuck.

Something heavy was pressing against his back, so he pushed his elbows underneath himself and turned around to look at it.

Two wings were attached to his back, covered in white down with no actual feathers adorning them. 

Tommy blinked, before forcing himself up and into a sitting position.

The wings were heavy, and they pulled against the skin of his back, but they didn’t hurt. His back didn’t hurt either.

His head still itched though.

Tommy watched as one of the wings extended, then closed, and then the other extended, then closed. He wasn’t quite sure how big they were, but they looked way too big to have actually fit in his back.

Tommy reached forward and grabbed his phone, checking the time (it was almost 7 am on Sunday) before unlocking it. It was still on a text conversation with Dream. Why with Dream?

green boi: okay so

green boi: you for sure know hes got feathered wings

me: Yeah, there are feathers coming in through his scalp

green boi: okay

green boi: so what you can do for right now

green boi: is basically just like

green boi: pet him?

green boi: like 

green boi: scratch his head

green boi: itll make the feathers come in easier

green boi: wont hurt him as much

green boi: lmk when his wings are out

green boi: ill be able to give you more advice then

That conversation took place at eight in the morning yesterday. The next text was from him... eight hours later?

me: They’re out

green boi: its been eight hours???

green boi: i thought you just forgot to text me

green boi: how in the world did it take so long???

me: His wings are fucking huge mate

me: I was so worried

me: Now I know why it took so damn long

green boi: how big are they???

me: I don’t know 

me: If I had to guess... maybe six feet each

me: There’s actually no way they should’ve been able to fit in his back like that

green boi: your right

green boi: thats fucking insane

green boi: uh

green boi: green boi: they have down on them right

green boi: but no actual feathers

me: Yes

green boi: okay so

green boi: his wings will be extremely sensitive for the next few hours

green boi: when cleaning off the blood wet an old shirt or something you don’t care about ruining

green boi: a towel will be too rough

green boi: the cuts will stop bleeding pretty soon

green boi: but avoid touching them when youre cleaning him up

green boi: be VERY gentle when you do it

green boi: his real feathers will start to grow in over the next few days

green boi: might be a couple weeks

green boi: depending on his species

green boi: dont try to get all the blood out now

green boi: just get most of it

green boi: have him take a bath later and he can clean up the rest when his wings are less sensitive

me: Thank you for your help Dream

green boi: np dude

green boi: lmk if you need anything else

Tommy stared at his phone blankly, before remembering that Phil had been texting Dream yesterday when his wings were coming in. 

Because Dream’s a bird too, Tommy realized. He was getting advice, that’s right.

Tommy glanced over towards Tubbo’s side of the room. Tubbo was missing from his bed, as was his pillow and a few blankets. Phil must have forced him to sleep on the couch. 

He grabbed the soft blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cape. He forced himself into standing, before falling over immediately and hitting the floor with a loud thump.

“Fuck,” Tommy grunted, his voice barely audible as the word scratched its way out of his throat. He shoved his phone into his pocket and picking himself up off the floor, using the wall for support. His center of gravity was way off. The massive fucking wings on his back were probably the cause, now that he thought about it. They were HEAVY.

Tommy took a few wobbly steps, arms out to catch himself in case he fell again. When he managed to get outside the door to his room without face planting, he felt a little more confident in his walking ability. 

He managed to make it downstairs and into the kitchen without dying, thankfully. Tubbo, as he predicted, was asleep on the couch, wings twitching in his sleep.

God, Tommy was fucking starving.

He opened the fridge and...

It was empty. Well, not completely, but it didn’t have anything that Tommy actually wanted to eat. He sighed, shutting the fridge and opening the pantry instead. 

There wasn’t anything in there that he really wanted to eat either. Except....

And that’s how Tommy found himself eating those microwave mac and cheese things for breakfast, scrolling through twitter and sitting on the kitchen counter. 

“Tommy?”

Tommy glanced up, spotting Wilbur on the stairs staring at him, confused. Wilbur looked exhausted, his hair all over the place.

“Yeah?” Tommy asked, stuffing another bite in his mouth. Yup, his voice was completely gone. He barely even hear himself.

“Didn’t expect you to be up,” Wilbur shrugged, coming down the stairs and into the kitchen. “You slept for fifteen hours. And you were going through it for eight hours before that.”

Tommy shrugged. “Voice gone,” he said croakily around his food. 

“Fair enough, don’t speak with a mouth full of food,” Wilbur said tiredly, opening the fridge. “God, we have nothing to eat. We should’ve gone grocery shopping while we were waiting for you to grow those wings of yours.”

Tommy grunted in acknowledgment. 

“How are you doing? Eight hours is a long ass time to be in pain while you’re waiting for your wings to come out,” Wilbur hummed.

“Voice is gone,” Tommy couldn’t get his voice above a whisper. “Bit through my lip. The cuts on my back hurt, and I have a headache ‘cause I’m probably dehydrated.”

“I meant mentally,” Wilbur shot him a look and threw a water bottle through the air. Tommy caught it, opened it, and drank half of it before responding.

“I don’t remember much,” he admitted, coughing a bit. “I think I blocked out most of it.”

“That doesn’t tell me how you’re doing.”

Tommy paused, before shrugging. “I don’t know.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“Tommy? What are you doing up?” Tubbo asked sleepily from the couch.

“Hungry,” Tommy answered, stuffing another bite in his mouth, but he was pretty sure Tubbo couldn’t hear him. 

In truth, Tommy didn’t know how he was feeling. He just knew that the wings on his back felt... wrong. He wanted to be human. He’s supposed to be human. He’s supposed to be Tommy, the youngest kid and the only human in a family of hybrids. That’s who he was. Who he’s always been.

Who was he now?

He’d hoped this was all a fever dream. He was supposed to wake up today and be human, with everything that had happened yesterday just some bad nightmare. But it wasn’t.

He was human. He was supposed to be human.

But he’s not.

Chapter Text

Sunday passed by in a flash, and now it was Monday morning.

And Tommy had to go to school.

They’d modified his shirts and jackets on Sunday, so that way he didn’t go to school wrapped in a blanket. And he had managed to pull on a shirt and hoodie without much difficulty, but...

He was just sitting there, staring at his backpack, wondering how in the hell he was supposed to wear it.

Tubbo had a custom backpack that fit around his wings, but getting Tommy one seemed to have slipped everyone’s minds, including his own.

He still didn’t like his the wings.

They just weren’t... right. No matter how much he tried to get used to the fact that they were a part of his life now, they just felt wrong. Tommy hated looking in his reflection now, not only because of the wings, but because of the little feathers that were growing in behind his ears. He hated combing his hair because of the down that was all over his scalp, also growing in.

He still desperately wished this was just a fever dream he’d wake up from soon. 

“Hey Tommy! We’re gonna be late! Wilbur’s threatening to make us walk and you know that’s-” Tubbo came into their room, falling silent when he saw Tommy. “-not an empty threat...” Tubbo finished quietly. “What’s wrong?”

Tommy didn’t look up, his leg bouncing up and down in a tic that he’d picked up recently. His voice wasn’t at 100% yet, but it was better. “I don’t... I don’t know how to wear this...” his grip on his backpack grew tighter. 

“But that’s not the only reason you’re upset, is it?” Tubbo asked, but it wasn’t a question. They’d known each other long enough that Tubbo knows somethings up, and its not about the damn backpack.

Tommy shook his head wordlessly.

“I swear! Get down here or you can walk!” Wilbur shouted. 

“Just go asshole!” Tubbo snapped back immediately, catching Tommy by surprise. Tubbo cursed like every other teenager, that wasn’t the weird bit. But Tubbo never, ever snapped unless he was seriously pissed.

The others seemed to think so too, as Wilbur fell silent, and the quiet noise of Phil and Techno downstairs ceased. 

“Is everything alright?” Phil called, sounding worried.

“We’re gonna be a minute, so you might as well just go, Wilbur!” Tubbo didn’t answer the question. Everyone seemed to take note of this and dropped the subject. “Now, what’s wrong?” Tubbo asked him in a much quieter voice, coming into their room and shutting the door. 

Tommy swallowed, not wanting to answer. He felt his THE wings shuffle behind him.

“I know somethings up, your wings are giving it away,” Tubbo pointed out.

“I don’t want them,” Tommy blurted out, dropping the backpack as his leg started bouncing faster. “They’re not mine. They’re not RIGHT. I don’t want them, Tubbo.”

“I don’t understand,” Tubbo said, getting in front of him and crouching down until they were eye level.

“I don’t know,” Tommy buried his head in his hands. “It’s just... I’m HUMAN. That’s me. Tommy, the human in a family of hybrids. That’s ME. That’s me. I’m supposed to be HUMAN, Tubbo. I’m not supposed to have these. They aren’t supposed to be there. I don’t-”

The words die in his throat as he felt Tubbo wrap his arms around him. 

“You’re panicking,” Tubbo said softly. “Breathe, okay? In for four seconds, hold for eight seconds, out for seven seconds. Do it with me.”

Tommy shakily did the breathing thing with Tubbo a few times. It helped calm down his racing heart.

“Now try,” Tubbo suggested, pulling away but holding onto Tommy’s arms. He appreciated it, because it was keeping him grounded.

“I...” Tommy’s leg started bouncing again, but he tried to make an effort to still it. “It’s like, my- THE wings don’t feel right. I don’t- I don’t think I’m supposed to have them. They just feel wrong, and- and- I don’t want them. I don’t want them.”

His voice was getting scratchier from his extended use of it. Tommy was slightly concerned that he was about to lose it completely again.

“I don’t know what that’s like,” Tubbo said gently. “But some other hybrids might. Why don’t you ask them? You don’t have to ask Phil or Techno or Wil if you don’t want to, but you should ask someone. See if they know what they’re feeling. I’m sorry, I’m not being very helpful, am I?”

“You’re fine,” Tommy said croakily. 

Tubbo gave him a smile that told Tommy that Tubbo didn’t really believe him, but was humoring him anyway. “Do you want me to show you how to wear the backpack?”

Tommy nodded.

———

Tommy slid into his first class with tense shoulders and fidgeting wings. He was the first one in, as usual. Mrs. Briggs wasn’t paying attention, thank god, so he managed to make it to his desk without incident. 

However, he was stuck fighting to get the backpack off with wings that were NOT FUCKING COOPERATING. Whenever he tried to get the strap off, the wing on that side would just, not do what he was trying to get it to do? He let out a string of irritated curses as he fought with his own wing like it wasn’t attached to him.

“Mr. Watson?” 

Tommy froze, turning around as his THE wings tucked themselves close to the backpack out of nervousness. Mrs. Briggs wasn’t exactly his... favorite... teacher. And he was definitely nowhere near her favorite student.

“Yeah?” He asked croakily.

Mrs. Briggs looked pleasantly surprised to see him, her rabbit ears pricked. “I was unaware you were a hybrid, Mr. Watson.”

“Yeah, me too,” he mumbled, tugging on his backpack straps. “They showed up Saturday.”

“A late bloomer? My brother was one,” Mrs. Briggs nodded at him. “Your throat must be sore, dear. I’m surprised you would be here if they only came in Saturday. Take a free day in my class, Mr. Watson, as long as you do not distract other students.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Tommy was stunned, frankly. 

Tommy continued wrestling with the backpack until he FINALLY managed to get it off, fighting his the wings the whole time. 

He sat down and pulled out his phone, a little surprised to find a message from Drista.

cooler dream: child

cooler dream: whats your first class

me: who gave you my number

cooler dream: answer the question

me: A236 why

cooler dream: youll see 

Tommy narrowed his eyes at the suspicious message. That couldn’t be good. 

Sitting in chairs with wings was weird, he mused silently as people started to trickle in. He got a few weird looks, but everyone seemed to not notice the fact he’d grown wings over the weekend.

The tardy bell wasn’t due to ring for another ten minutes, so only about two or three other kids were in the class when Drista burst in.

“Child, I come baring gifts,” Drista announced, her dappled eagle wings shifting back and forth. She was carrying a white paper bag and a mug of what looked like coffee.

“You’re a freshman, Drista. I’m a junior. You’re literally younger than me,” Tommy said quietly, his voice still scratchy. He normally would yell, but he didn’t want to risk losing his voice in first class.

“I’m the alpha male, not you. Take your shit and be thankful,” Drista plopped both items on his desk. “Dream sends his apologies. Eight hours seems like a shitshow.”

“Lemme guess, yours took only one, ‘cause you’re the alpha male,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Wrong, child. Mine took three,” Drista patted him on the head. “Seriously though. Eight hours? And your wings are fuckin’ huge. I don’t envy you.”

“Get out before you’re late, freshman,” Tommy scowled, but there was no heat behind it. 

“See you at lunch!” Drista called cheerfully, bolting out the door.

Tommy rolled his eyes again, but opened the bag anyways. Four powdered donut holes from the bakery next to their high school lay inside. A sip of the “coffee” revealed it to be hot chocolate with extra milk, the way he liked it.

Tommy pulled out his phone again.

me: you told Big D what i like

me: didnt you

Big T: i have no idea what your talking aboutt

Big T: :)

me: bitch

Big T: bitch

Tommy grinned, popping a donut hole in his mouth. Only Dream could pull shit off like this so early in the morning. One of Dream’s friends was the one who owned the bakery, after all. It was no surprise. 

First class passed by in a blur, and before Tommy knew it, the bell was ringing to let them out. At this point, he’d finished the hot chocolate and the donuts, so he threw away the empty bag and cup. 

“Hey Mrs. Briggs?” Tommy asked, before he left, when most of the other kids were already gone. “Have you... have you ever felt like your hybrid traits shouldn’t be there?”

“Hm,” Mrs. Briggs seemed to stop and think about the question. “I haven’t. But my brother described that kind of feeling. That his ears just felt wrong.”

“Does it ever go away?” He clutched the straps of his backpack tightly.

“When he got used to them, yes. He said the feeling went away after about a week or two,” Mrs. Briggs stared at him for a moment, before seeming to snap herself out of whatever trance she was in. “Go on now, don’t be late to your next class.”

Tommy left without another word, feeling slightly embarrassed for asking. 

Second and third passed without incident. No one mentioned the wings he had grown over the weekend, but he did get some weird looks in his classes, particularly from other hybrids.

It was passing period, and Tommy was heading towards fourth class when his phone went off.

He slowed down and pulled it out.

purple man: hey wtf are those

purple man: why did u not text me when u grew chicken wings

Tommy grinned, stopping and looking around in the crowd to find Purpled. 

purple man: don’t do that ur holding up the hallway

purple man: we r def talking about this at lunch

purple man: chicken boy

me: dickhead

purple man: u love me

me: gross

Tommy shared fourth period with Tubbo, so he immediately sat down next to Tubbo (despite it not being his seat) and put his head on his desk, groaning.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tubbo poked him, sounding like he was trying not to laugh.

“Wings are hard,” Tommy complained. “Sitting in a chair is weird. They don’t fucking listen to me whenever I try to take off my backpack. I’m pretty sure my feathers are coming in. Give me 200 pounds.”

“You’re asking a lot from a broke high schooler,” Tubbo laughed. “Text Schlatt if you want money. He’s the drug dealer. Also? Feathers? Lemme see!”

Tommy didn’t protest as Tubbo grabbed one of his the wings and started running his fingers through the down. “Schlatt’s in college. He’s not reliable anymore.”

“What makes you think the feathers are coming in? I’m curious,” Tubbo hummed. “Also, don’t say “anymore”. You didn’t fucking buy anything from him and you know it.”

“They’re like... sore,” Tommy shrugged. “All over. It’s the only reason I can think of. And you’re right.”

“I don’t see anything,” Tubbo admitted, letting go of Tommy’s wing. “They must not be poking out yet. You’ll have to ask Drista or Dream.”

“Why’d you tell Dream how I like my hot chocolate?” Tommy picked his head off his desk to look at him. 

“He asked,” Tubbo shrugged, before he seemed to realize what he was implying. “I mean, I didn’t. Obviously. Soooo weird that he knew that.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Tommy said affectionately.

“I’m really not, though,” Tubbo raised an eyebrow at him. “I still haven’t told you want happened to your pumpkin.”

“Oh god, that was years ago. I thought he just rotted and someone through him away! What did you do?” Tommy said with mock-horror.

“Only God knows my secrets,” Tubbo responded dramatically.

They both descended into a cackling fit. Tommy’s voice was slowly becoming more and more scratchy, and less audible.

“Thomas, Toby, do not make me separate you,” Mr. Nolan said sternly. “I’m being lenient just this once, Thomas. I’m sure you understand why. ”

“Yes sir,” Tommy said, trying to stifle his laughs but failing miserably.

“At this rate, you’re going to lose your voice before last class,” Tubbo elbowed him.

“Probably.”

———

Finally, it was lunch time. 

Purpled and Drista had appeared at Tubbo and Tommy’s usual lunch table instead of sitting with their other friends as they usually did.

“So, chicken man,” Purpled announced as soon as Tommy got to the table. “When did you grow those and why the fuck wouldn’t you text us?”

“They grew in Saturday,” Tommy rolled his eyes and sat down. “I was just as surprised as you are.”

“I already knew,” Drista grinned, her feathers twitching. “The way you were acting on Friday? Even a blind man could tell.”

Tubbo seemed offended by this. “I knew something was up, but I didn’t guess that he was growing WINGS at sixteen.”

“Hold on, but they’re fucking huge!” Purpled gestured at Tommy’s THE wings. “There’s no way you managed to spit those out on Saturday. Drista’s were like, half that size when they first came out.”

“Mine also didn’t take nearly as long, dickhead,” Drista reached over and shoved Purpled. “Child’s got big wings, leave him be.”

“Are they supposed to be, like, sore?” Tommy interrupted before the argument could go any further. “And kind of itchy?”

“Your feathers,” Drista said simply. “Speaking of-” she suddenly stood up and grabbed his face, turning his head to the side to poke at the feathers growing in behind his ears. 

“What are you doing?” Tommy asked, suddenly worried as his THE wings rubbed together behind him. 

Drista didn’t answer at first, just kept doing... whatever she was doing.

“I can’t tell,” she said finally, letting go of his head and sitting back down.

“What was that exactly?” Tommy reached up to mess with the little feathers behind his ears.

Drista pointed at the feathers behind her own ears, that were dappled golden-brown like the ones that covered most of her wings. “I was trying to see what species you are,” she said simply. “They’re pretty good indicators since they’re typically the same colors as your wings, but I don’t know what’s up with yours. They don’t look like any bird I know.”

“Great,” Tommy groaned. “Not only are my wings abnormally large, took an abnormal amount of time to come out, and I’m a late bloomer, but my feathers are fucked up too. I’m all sorts of crazy shit, huh?”

“You’ll be able to recognize what species you are once your feathers start showing up on your wings,” Drista offered. “Its an instinctive thing. But right now, you look like a chicken.”

“I don’t care if Dream beats my ass for it, I’m very close to throttling you,” Tommy warned.

“You can try,” Drista grinned, leaning back in her chair and spreading her wings.

Chapter Text

Tommy still didn’t like the wings very much.

It’d been about a week since they first came out, and they’d been nothing but itchy nuisances since then. The feathers were coming in, he could see them, but he still had no idea what he was supposed to be. He could barely tell where the feathers start and the down ended, as the feathers were the same off-white color as his down.

The feathers behind his ears had grown longer too, fading from off-white to a lemon yellow color at the very tips.

The wrong-ness that Tommy felt about his wings had faded, somewhat. But it still was present, and some days were better than others. 

me: i feel like i should know what i am at this point

Tommy stared at his phone screen in the pitch black of his and Tubbo’s rooms, having been unable to sleep for hours. Tubbo had been allowed to sleep in his own bed once again as of two days ago, and Tommy could hear quiet snores coming from the other side of the room where Tubbo’s bed was.

He’d sent that message about an hour ago to Dream, but he hadn’t answered. He was sitting on his bed, glowering at his wings in the dark as if suddenly he’d know what the fuck was going on with them if he stared at them long enough.

green boi: ive been sitting here for the past half hour wondering if this is a wing thing or existential thing

me: the wing thing dickhead

green boi: how many feathers u got

me: theyre the same fucking color as my down so i dont fucking know

green boi: picture

me: big d i am a minor

green boi: you know what

green boi: you can figure it out on your own

me: ill just text drista

me: shes cooler than you anyhow bitch

green boi: blocked

me: wait unblock me i have something to say

green boi: unblocked

me: bitch

Tommy didn’t get a response after that, but the simple interaction made him grin. Dream was a dickhead sometimes, but he was a good friend. Techno and Dream were closer than he and Dream were (though Tommy wasn’t quite sure how that had happened. Techno always seemed to hate Dream and the feeling had seemed to be mutual, but they were as close with each other as him and Tubbo were). 

me: should I know what i am yet

cooler dream: pic

me: im a minor drista

cooler dream: so am i now if you want my help just send the fucking pic

Tommy snorted, having to take several seconds to stifle his laughter so he didn’t wake up Tubbo. He slipped out of bed, using the light from his phone to guide his way out of his room and into the bathroom. 

He shut the door and flicked on the light, turning towards the mirror and half spreading one of his wings. He snapped a picture of the underside and sent it.

me: [image sent]

Minutes passed, each second without a response making Tommy more and more anxious. There wasn’t enough room in the bathroom to pace, so he settled on sitting on the edge of the bathtub and bouncing his leg up and down to get rid of some of the nervous energy. He kept absentmindedly scratching at his wings, as they were still itchy as fuck.

cooler dream: where are your feathers

cooler dream: i dont understand

me: theyre the same damn color as my down

cooler dream: uhhhhh how long u guess they are???

Tommy flipped a wing around, setting his phone on his thigh as he sorted through the down to find a feather that was a bit larger than the others. It was about six inches long, while he had to guess the rest were about four to five inches.

me: longest one is six inches maybe

me: most of the others are about four to five

me: they get smaller the closer to my back they are

cooler dream: yeah thats normal

cooler dream: theyre the same color as your down

me: yeah

me: there’s some like... pale yellow on the undersides

me: and some yellow on the ones behind my ears

cooler dream: pic

me: you weirdo

me: [image sent]

cooler dream: i have theory

cooler dream: buttttt you have to figure this out on your own child

cooler dream: youre a big boy you can do it

me: FUCK YOU

me: IM A BIG MAN

cooler dream: youre still 60% chicken down

cooler dream: you can’t say a goddamn thing

me: blocked

cooler dream: wait unblock me i have something to say

me: i literally just did this with dream no

cooler dream: bitch

me: double blocked

Tommy sighed, burying his face in his hands and groaning.

A soft knock on the door caught his attention.

“What do you want?” Tommy mumbled.

“You good in there Tommy? Why the fuck are you awake at three in the morning?” Wilbur called from the other side of the door, quiet as to not wake the others.

“Taking a shit,” Tommy lied.

“Bullshit, what are you doing up?”

Tommy sighed again, standing up and turning off the light before opening the door.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled into the dark. He could just barely see the shape of Wilbur ahead of him with the lack of light. 

“Wing thing?” Wilbur asked, and Tommy grunted in agreement. “Are they still itchy?”

“Yup,” Tommy mumbled. 

Wilbur fell silent for a few moments, clearly not knowing where he was going with this. “You wanna watch a movie? I can’t sleep either and Techno’s up too.”

“Techno’s always up,” Tommy shrugged. “I swear I don’t think I’ve ever seen him asleep.”

“A movie would be a good distraction for him, a chance to drag him away from those twenty pound books,” Wilbur offered. He was phrasing it as they were watching a movie together for Techno’s sake, not Tommy’s, because he knew Tommy hated feeling like they were going out of their way for him. Tommy knew exactly what he was doing, and he was less frustrated that Wilbur was using it and more frustrated that it was actually working.

“Movie sounds good,” Tommy agreed, and even though he couldn’t see Wilbur’s triumphant grin, he knew for a fact that it was there. 

Wilbur quickly herded him downstairs, Techno grumbling behind him about how he “needed to study” and “why did I agree to this”. 

Wilbur sat down on the couch first, Tommy immediately laying down after him on his stomach. At first, his legs were by Wilbur, but after a sharp tug, he turned around and put his head in Wilbur’s lap instead.

Techno, the weirdo, instead of sitting on the other couch or in the chair, sat on the fucking floor in front of the couch with the remote as he flicked through their many movies on the screen.

“Can we watch Up?” Tommy asked, rolling his shoulders to get his wings into a more comfortable position.

“Yes, we can watch Up,” a long-suffering Techno answered with a sigh. He punched “up” into the search bar and selected the movie as soon as it popped up. 

Tommy relaxed against Wilbur as soon as the movie started. Every couple of minutes, the itchiness would get unbearable, so Tommy would awkwardly reach back and scratch until it faded again.

He was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep, but his wings wouldn’t let him. He fucking hated having wings. He wished he was still human.

Tommy shifted the wings again, the position with them being folded flat against his back becoming uncomfortable. 

He immediately stilled when a hand that wasn’t his started to comb its way through the feathers close to his back. The one’s he could never reach properly.

Wilbur didn’t seem to notice his reaction, eyes still trained on the tv as his fingernails scratched softly against the skin beneath Tommy’s down. 

A shudder ran through him as Tommy almost instantly relaxed into the touch, suppressing a soft whine that tried to escape him.

Wilbur running his fingers through Tommy’s feathers offered more relief to the itchiness then Tommy’s own hands ever did. His mind was basically blue-screening at this action, and he couldn’t even take offense to the fact that he was essentially being pet like a cat. 

His brain was a whirlwind of “that’s nice please don’t stop warm” and he didn’t trust himself not to say those things aloud if he opened his mouth. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he reflexively leaned into Wilbur’s hand, a small rumble echoing through his throat. He hadn’t even realized it was loud enough to be heard, to focused on the feeling of Wilbur essentially petting him.

“Did you just growl at me?” Wilbur asked, a laugh in his voice. 

Tommy didn’t respond, another soft rumble coming from him as he leaned even further into Wilbur’s hand. 

He whined as Wilbur pulled away, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment but he couldn’t find it in him to feel too ashamed about it because fuck the itchiness was going away please keep doing that it feels nice please.

“Don’t tease him,” Techno said gruffly, and Tommy felt his older brother grab one of his the his the HIS THE HIS wings and let it unfold, draping it across Techno’s lap. “You acted the same way when your scales first came through. Don’t be an ass.”

“He growled at me,” Wilbur protested weakly, before he started scratching Tommy’s wing again. Techno also started gently running his fingers through the down.

Tommy let out a quiet high pitched noise he’d never heard from himself before and melted against Wilbur. The movie kept playing, but Tommy could only focus on how the itchiness was going away the itchiness was going away the itchiness was going away! His thoughts were running and bleeding into one another and he couldn’t think straight, but that was okay.

“Awww look at his feathers fluffing up,” Wilbur teased, but Tommy paid it no mind. He knew for a fact that he was never going to live this down, but that was a problem for future him, not for right now.

Another soft rumble came from his throat, occurring for longer this time as Techno and Wilbur kept essentially petting him.

He wasn’t quite sure when he fell asleep, only half-waking up what he assumed was a few hours later to the tv still being on and both Techno and Wilbur snoring in his ears. 

He drifted off soon again after that.

Chapter Text

Tommy’s eyes fluttered open, finding himself thrown across the couch with his head in Wilbur’s lap. One of his wings was extended, and Techno was using it as a pillow on the ground. The other was folded against his back, and Wilbur still had his hand intertwined in those feathers.

Wilbur was awake, it seemed, by the way his hand kept methodically running through Tommy’s feathers. The scales on his older brother’s palms were cool and smooth, soothing against Tommy’s still itchy skin.

Tommy heard a quiet trill, similar to a bird’s, coming from nearby as he let his eyes slip closed again. It took him a moment to realize that it had come from HIM, as was the soft rumbling noise that he had heard last night as well. 

“You’re finally awake,” Wilbur said, sounding amused.

Another soft trill, this time Tommy was able to recognize it as his voice more easily. He couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, because there was something in the back of his head that cheered at the contact, letting out happy noises only he could hear. Whatever Wilbur was doing, performing dark magic or some shit, was making his wings less itchy and fuck it felt amazing.

“Oh, he is?” Techno asked, also sounding amused. “That’s good, ‘cause Dream’s gonna be here any minute.”

Tommy’s eyes snapped open, shaking off the tangles of instinctual sleepiness at whatever Wilbur was doing as he bolted upright. The sudden motion caused his wing to yank out from underneath Techno’s head, causing his brother to hit the ground with a thump and a sarcastic “ow”.

“He’s WHAT?” Tommy demanded. “Why?”

“I texted him to find out why you were growling at us,” Techno shrugged.

“I WASN’T—”

“Turns out you were probably purring,” Techno continued as if Tommy hadn’t spoken, but the sentence was enough to shut Tommy up anyway because birds don’t purr. “And he also forgot to tell any of us about preening, so he’s coming over to do that now.”

“Preening?” Tommy asked, eyebrows furrowing. “What the hell is that?”

“If we’re talking about bird hybrids,” Tubbo said, emerging from the kitchen and making Tommy jump. “A social behavior done between members of the same flock or family in order to keep the feathers of the wings straight, clean, and free of parasites. Releases oxytocin and serotonin among the bird hybrids participating. Also one of the best ways to calm down a bird hybrid from a panic attack or if they are in shock.”

“That still doesn’t tell me what it is,” Tommy shuffled his wings nervously, because Tubbo sounded as if he just spent the whole morning memorizing a Wikipedia article over the topic.

“Straightening your feathers,” Wilbur simplified. “Apparently super important to do correctly, that’s why he’s coming over.”

Tommy glanced out the window, finding it to be late morning based on the way the sun was shining in through it. He pulled out his phone, only to find it dead.

“Which means go get changed, you stink,” Tubbo said bluntly. “All three of you.”

Tommy threw himself off the couch and thundered up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door shut as soon as he was inside. 

Changing quickly was practically impossible, something he had discovered pretty soon after growing his wings. They liked to get in the way and do the exact opposite of what he was trying to do, only making taking off his shirt more and more difficult.

Finally, Tommy managed to yank his stupid shirt off, throwing on a clean hoodie that he eased his wings through carefully. He exchanged his sweatpants for regular pants, pulled on socks but didn’t feel like putting on shoes, so he didn’t. 

He practically bolted back down the stairs, only to find Dream already sitting on the couch with his wings tucked behind his back. 

Literally everyone was down there before he was, both Wilbur and Techno having changed clothes already. Even Phil had shown up at some point, apparently having appeared while Tommy was in his room.

“Listen,” Tommy sighed, once they all had glanced at him with practically matching amused expressions. “Changing quickly with wings is hard.”

“You’ll get the hang of it, eventually,” Dream snorted. “Anyway, onto what is probably the most important thing now that you’re feathers are mostly grown in. Your first preen!”

“Still don’t get why it’s so important,” Tommy deadpanned. “You’re just teaching me how to fix my feathers, and that it releases the happy chemical things. Cool, simple, let’s do this.”

“It’s a bit more than that, especially for your first one,” Dream corrected. “The first preen is like... what triggers all of your instincts. You might have gotten some already, but this is what does the rest of them. Whoever does the preen is who your hindbrain associates as your flock, your family. That’s why this is super important, because if the wrong person does it, your brain is going to go haywire. Plus, the first preen is when you’re the most vulnerable, I think—”

“Wait, hold on,” Tommy interrupted, not really liking where this conversation was going. “Hindbrain? Please slow down.”

“Like, the bird brain,” Dream said unhelpfully.

“Every hybrid’s got the hindbrain,” Techno confirmed. “It’s fucking annoying.”

“Your hindbrain is where all your instincts come from,” Phil clarified, rolling his eyes. “Every hybrid has one, depending on what kind of hybrid they are. Some are stronger than others.”

“Like how me and Phil don’t have really strong hindbrains,” Wilbur interjected. “Because fish don’t really think, and neither do bats—”

“Oh you motherfucker—”

“While Techno has a strong one,” Wilbur continued as if Phil hadn’t smacked him over the side of the head. “Tubbo’s the gray area, I think.”

“Can confirm, I’m the middle ground,” Tubbo nodded.

“Bird hybrids have strong hindbrains, typically,” Dream sighed. “You probably have felt a little bit of it already, but the first preen will activate it fully and you’ll get all of the cool side effects, like the noises, and the instincts. It’s fun,” his words trailed off into sarcasm.

“Is there any option to just... opt out?” Tommy asked. “Because that does not seem very fun, and I would very much like to... not.”

“No, you can’t just “opt out”,” Dream sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “It’s bad if you don’t preen your feathers. Plus, you’ll like this, I promise. If you liked them scratching your wings last night, you’ll like this.”

Tommy glanced at Tubbo, who shrugged. His wings did itch again, something that never really went away. It had lessened when Wilbur and Techno were messing with them last night.

Man, was he desperate for it to stop.

“Fine,” he conceded.

Dream brightened, standing up. His eagle’s wings were twitching excitedly. “Sit, on the floor, preferably.”

Tommy sat down with a sigh, watching warily as Dream sat down behind him. His back was facing all five of them, and he wasn’t really sure how he felt about that.

“So who wants to hold him?” Dream asked.

“Hold him?” Tubbo sounded confused.

“Wait, you didn’t say anything about anyone holding me,” Tommy interjected.

“It’s a precaution, who wants to do it?”

“I will,” Wilbur offered shifting around until he was sitting in front of Tommy instead of behind him. Wilbur grinned at him, as if he knew something that Tommy didn’t, and he really didn’t like that face.

“Alright, just watch how I do it,” Dream said, directing his words to Tubbo, Phil, Techno, and Wilbur. “I’ll have you guys jump in later once you’ve seen me do it for a little bit. Hey Tommy, we’re going to do your right one first, can you spread it out?”

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes, but did indeed extend his right wing fully, glancing to the side to make sure he didn’t smack anyone with it.

“I’m gonna touch you now, is that alright?” Dream asked.

“Just do it,” Tommy snapped. 

Tommy held his breath as he felt fingers brush against his wing, gentle, but he was all too aware of them. One hand on the top of his wing, holding it still, while the other ran through the feathers closest to his back, occasionally stopping to tug on the smallest ones and lay them in a specific way.

Dream’s movements were precise, and he didn’t waste any time, moving quickly from the feathers close to Tommy’s back and moving towards the ones closer to the middle of his wing. Tommy could hear of the blonde speaking, but he couldn’t quite process the words. He wasn’t even sure if they were directed towards him or directed towards the others.

His own hands moved from his lap to brace against the ground, exhaling slowly. His eyes slipped shut, his mind instinctively focusing on the hand in his feathers. It didn’t even feel like how it felt last night, it wasn’t like... as good. This still felt good, just in a different way. It was weird, and hard to describe.

Someone was speaking again, this time clearly directed towards him, but he couldn’t make it out any clearer than the other one. There was a sort of roaring in his ears that he hadn’t realized was there until that point, and that was probably what was messing up his hearing so much.

Suddenly, Dream’s hands stilled and withdrew, the roaring ceased all at once.

“Do you need me to slow down?” Dream asked, sounding worried, but also like he was trying to hide it.

“It’s— it’s a lot,” Tommy stammered.

“The first preen usually is. Once we get to your secondaries it’ll be a bit more, but it’ll be better, I promise.”

Tommy hummed slightly in the back of his throat, taking a deep breath. 

“Remember, you don’t need to feel embarrassed about this. It’s normal, no one’s gonna make fun of you for it, I made them swear on it. Whatever you feel like doing, you do it, okay?” Dream’s soothing voice actually sounded genuine, not teasing at all. 

Tommy nodded.

“I’m gonna have Tubbo come help me with your secondaries, okay?”

Another nod, this one more confident. 

“We’re going to start now.”

Tommy didn’t respond, breath hitching slightly when two pairs of hands started combing through his feathers. Tubbo’s were distinct from Dream’s in a way that Tommy couldn’t identify consciously, he just knew their was a difference.

The roaring was back, louder than before. He could hear Dream talking, mostly to Tubbo, and Tubbo responding, but he couldn’t process their words.

An uncontrollable shiver ran through his body, making his arms jerk slightly and nearly making him fall flat on his face. Someone caught him, though, pulling him up and leaning him against their chest. He knew it was Wilbur, because it only could be Wilbur, but he wasn’t thinking on it too hard.

A soft, contented rumble shook his throat as he shivered again. He could feel Wilbur laughing, but couldn’t quite hear it, too focused on the feeling of fingers laying his feathers properly.

The world had melted away, leaving just him and the hands that were preening him. The little voice in the back of Tommy’s head, the one that he now knew was the hindbrain, was making soft little cooing noises and chanting “flock flock flock flock” in his ears, the one thing he could hear clearly.

Dream had been right. That felt amazing, like someone had finally found and slotted in the last puzzle piece of a puzzle that had been stumping them for days. Tubbo and Dream must’ve been performing dark magic or something back there because fuck, it had no reason to feel that good.

He could feel Dream’s hands retreat, replaced by unsure, calloused fingers that Tommy instinctively recognized as Techno’s. A soft high pitched sound came from Tommy’s throat, making Techno pause for a moment, but what was probably reassurances from Dream made Techno resume.

They were at the end of his wing now, tugging on the larger feathers there and straightening them out properly. Tommy’s whole right wing felt warm and it practically vibrated, in a good way. The itchiness had been completely soothed, replaced by a soft  tingling sensation that made his hindbrain sing.

Wilbur’s hold on him was growing looser, and Tommy could hear shuffling as the hands on his wing withdrew. He whined slightly as his wing drooped to the ground.

Another pair of hands was holding onto him now, and he was eased away from Wilbur and leaned up against someone else.

The little voice in the back of his head chirped happily, recognizing the person as Techno. He, unknowing, repeated the noise, clutching at the front of Techno’s shirt and trilling softly.

Techno was laughing, and Tommy was aware of other people laughing too, but he didn’t care.

A head butted softly against his, and Tommy sleepily mumbled: “Bonk.” Another round of laughter started up as Tommy nudged the side of Techno’s head with his before slumping back on his older brother with a contented purr.

He felt soft fingers prodding at his left wing, and he extended it wordlessly. 

Two pairs of hands, one pair warm and soft and the other cool and smooth with scales, nervously started fiddling with the feathers closest to his back. Wilbur and Phil, most likely. 

They were more unsure, moving slower in an effort to make sure they did it right. Tommy didn’t mind, because it felt great either way. 

He flexed his wing, pushing it against their hands with a soft crooning noise. Time was moving at a snail’s pace, and his thoughts were hard to swim through. The hybrid side of him clung onto his conscious thoughts, dragging him down in a thick wave of “warm happy flock safe flock warm”. 

The little noises that he’d been subconsciously suppressing were leaving his mouth in a flood, nothing left to stop them. He was purring, he knew, with little chirps and trills and chirrs surfacing every now and then. 

His wings didn’t feel awkward or out of place. His mind didn’t try to reject them, as it had been doing for these past few days since they’d grown in. The wings— his wings were just that, his. No one else’s. They finally felt normal, natural, like they had always been there and not just shown up last week.

Tommy shifted slightly, causing both Wilbur’s and Phil’s hands to freeze, but he didn’t stop them. He just tilted his head slightly, bumping his temple against the bottom of Techno’s chin.

“Bonk,” he mumbled again, finding the whole head butting thing slightly hilarious.

He felt more than heard Techno laugh, but after a moment, his older brother rested his chin on top of Tommy’s head in a slightly-protective manner. Tommy’s hybrid side cooed in appreciation. He might have too, but he wasn’t sure at this point.

Wilbur and Phil finished on his left wing all too soon. It was just as tingly and warm as his right was. 

Even though they were done, and both of Tommy’s wings were drooping on the floor contently, he didn’t let go of Techno. In fact, he might have grumbled when Techno tried to move him. Another round of laughter that Tommy was just barely able to hear above the roaring in his ears that was fading, slowly but surely.

He heard Dream say something in the background, far away enough and muffled enough that he couldn’t hear a goddamn word of it. He was aware of the fact he was being moved, despite several vocal whines that he emitted. 

Tommy was unceremoniously dumped onto a pile of blankets. He yelped, eyes snapping open for a brief moment as his regular brain snapped back into focus for just a second. Before the bird brain took over again, and he was subconsciously burying into the pile that his hindbrain called a “nest”.

He let out a content, sleepy chirp, eyes slipping shut once more with a sigh. Sleep wouldn’t come, he knew due to the fact he’d woken up less than an hour ago. But his hindbrain didn’t care, and it was still entrapping him in sticky threads of “safe warm stay safe”, so he did what it said, and stayed in the nest.

“That is... adorable,” Tubbo was grinning at Tommy, who was buried underneath a pile of blankets on the floor of the living room. 

“His instincts are still fresh, so he’s probably a bit overwhelmed by everything hitting him at once,” Dream hummed, standing by the front door. “The first preen kind of releases everything, like the nesting instinct and the flock stuff. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s completely out of it and just letting the hindbrain do stuff.”

“Doesn’t stop it from being adorable,” Wilbur agreed with Tubbo. Tommy was letting out little chirps in his pile. 

Dream had built the bundle of fabric with Tubbo’s help while Phil and Wilbur preened his Tommy’s wing, calling it a nest. He’d explained that it would probably help Tommy out after the preening, so they’d done it without complaint.

“Just remember, no pictures and no teasing,” Dream told them, hand on the doorknob since he was about to leave. “And just watch him for a couple hours until he snaps out of it. He’s going to be embarrassed, he doesn’t need you all picking on him.”

“Aye aye captain,” Techno did a mock-salute, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Thank you for your help, Dream,” Phil interjected before Techno could start a fight between himself and the bird hybrid. 

“No problem,” Dream shrugged, his feathers twitching slightly. “Tommy’s a good kid, I’m glad to help out. Invite me over when he starts trying to fly, because that’s gonna be funny as hell to watch.”

“Will do, make sure to bring your phone to record it,” Wilbur snickered. 

Dream laugh-wheezed, nodding, before ducking out the front door. The bird hybrid hopped off the porch, gave a short wave, spread his wings, and launched himself into the air.