Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy sits on the school bus.

His seat was unpleasantly sticky, probably from the apple juice he’d spilt on it yesterday. He knew they didn’t clean these seats.

Tommy was totally gonna tell Phil about this when he got home.

“Tommy! Did you do Ms. Johnson’s homework last night?” Tubbo asks as he sits down next to him. His friend’s face scrunches as he touches the gummy-feeling leather with his fingers.

Groaning, Tommy pulls out the English Homework. It is filled in with blue pen. For the first month of school, he’d wrote in red pen, refusing to stop. So Ms. Johnson had compromised, he got to write in pen and she got to use red pen on all her papers.

As Tubbo hurriedly fills in the answers, Tommy takes out a ‘travel-size’ Welch’s apple juice from his bag.

“You better not spill that, Tommy. I don’t have napkins with me today.” Tubbo says, glaring at the drink.

It was ridiculous, Tommy thinks, Tubbo’s hate for the delicious drink. He’d only spilt them seven times since school started two months ago!

Giving him a cheeky grin, Tommy says, “Don’t worry, I have another one in case I spill this one!” He says.

Tubbo gives him a flat look, and Tommy stares him directly in the eyes as he opens it. Rolling his eyes, Tubbo goes back to scrawling Tommy’s answers onto his own homework.

“Why didn’t you just ask Niki or Eret for help?” Tommy asks, sipping the apple juice. It’s pleasantly cold, contrasting the hot, end-summer heat.

Tubbo frowns when the bus drives over a speedbump, making his pencil lead draw a line over the paper.

“Eret was out with Fundy all night, and Niki tried to help but she isn’t very good with written grammar and such.”

Nodding, Tommy notices Tubbo’s hesitance on a word. He leans over, “It’s justice. And you misspelled welcoming. W-e-l-c-o-m-i-n-g.” He says.

“Thanks, Toms.” Tubbo says with a grateful grin.

Tommy shrugs, sitting back against his seat again.

“Tommy, you little gremlin!” Wilbur yells from the back of the bus. Tommy and Tubbo, as freshmen, sit toward the front, whereas, Wilbur, a senior, sits at the back.

Twisting to face the back of the bus, Tommy smirks at Wilbur. Though he doesn’t know which crime Wilbur is accusing him of, this time.

Schlatt is laughing, red in the face. He is holding onto Wilbur and the seat in front of him, standing up on the bus. Mr. Carter, the bus driver, had long since given up on trying to make them sit down.

His brother is also red in the face, but Wilbur isn’t laughing. In fact, he looks embarrassed.

“I’m going to punt you off a bridge, Tommy!” Wilbur yells.

A laugh escapes him, “For what?” He asks back.

By this point, the entire bus is looking between them with amusement. Or desperately, desperately trying to ignore them with their headphones shoved so deep in their ears it’s gotta be touching their brain.

Wilbur lifts his bag up, and shows the bottom of his fugly mustard-yellow backpack.

In big, black sharpie-written letters it reads, ‘CUNT’.

Bystanders on the bus cackle. Dream wakes Sapnap, who always passes out on the ride to and from school, up by shrieking his wheezing, tea-kettle laugh.

Tommy lets Tubbo put Tommy’s homework back in his backpack, and puts his middle finger up at Wilbur.

He only has time to release half a scream before Wilbur is throwing himself across the bus, on top of him.

***

“This is such bullshit.” Tommy gripes as he sits in the nurse’s office.

Tubbo scrolls through his phone, probably on Twitter or something, sitting next to Tommy. “It’s your own fault,” Tubbo says, casting a glance at Tommy.

“Wuh-What? How?” Tommy asks, wincing at the pain in his lip. Wilbur, being the bitch that he was, had split the skin with a well-placed punch.

Raising a brow, Tubbo gives him a pointed look. Tommy rolls his eyes.

Mrs. Hudson comes back into the waiting room, holding an ice pack wrapped in paper-towel. Tommy grabs it, pressing it against his lip. “Now go to class.” Mrs. Hudson says, signing them out.

On their way to Mr. Lewis’ class, Tommy glares at anything he looks at. Tubbo looks at him, unamused, “Stop being a little bitch, Tommy.”

Tommy sticks his middle finger in Tubbo’s face, “You stop being a pussy first.”

“Last time you did that, it didn’t end well for you.”

“Fuck you, Tubbo.”

***

By the time lunch rolls around, Tommy is fed up with everyone. He is going to commit himself to a mental hospital, at this point.

Math, first period. Rebecca Finch refused to sit next to him because he smelled like apple juice, and she doesn’t like apple juice. She is a bitch.

Second period, English. Tommy actually likes English. It’s pretty easy, and he sits next to Tubbo. His only problem is that Ms. Johnson didn’t trust him to not talk during the test, so he had to sit next to her desk to do the Nine Weeks Test.

Finally, the period he’d just left, Science.

He hates science. It sucks, and he’d rather let Wilbur pick out his clothes for a week than go back.

Tommy licks his lip again, wetting the open cut. He was going to snitch on Wilbur to Phil as soon as he got home. He gets in line next to Tubbo to get his food.

School food is nasty, but SMP High has decent potato wedges, so he gets those with a few ketchup packets.

“Ayy! Tomás!” Quackity yells as he sits down at the large, round table. A wide grin is on the other teen’s face.

Unable to stop himself, Tommy yells back, “Ayy! Big Q!”

Wilbur looks over at him, and a smile appears on his face when he looks at Tommy’s lip. “Enjoy your injury, Toms?”

Glaring, Tommy nods. His glare disappears, replaced by a confident smirk, “Of course! Women love open wounds!”

“You’re ridiculous.” Dreams says, looking at him in amusement.

Kicking him under the table, Tommy shoves a potato wedge in his mouth. They were good, if a little dry. But Tommy knew better than to comment on it. Fundy did once, last year, and he told Tommy and Tubbo that one of the lunch lady’s spit on his fries.

“I’m what?” Tommy asks, standing up and walking next to Dream’s seat. Fundy buries his face in his hands, laughing.

Dream rolls his eyes with poorly concealed amusement. He adjusts his mask, shoving Tommy lightly.

Tommy slaps the table loudly, disturbing those surrounding the big group.

“I like your cut, G!”

“I swear to god, Tommy, I’m gonna beat you with a stick,”

“We live in the city, bitch boy! Where you gonna find a stick?”

Silence.

Tubbo watches as Dream pulls out a large stick out of his backpack, and bonks Tommy on the head.

Chapter Text

Snows softly falls from the sky, dressing the city in blankets of white.

Throughout Complex D-534M, the residents enjoy the warmth of their homes.

Tubbo, Fundy, Eret, and Niki, on the second floor, dance around in their kitchen as christmas music plays from their TV, hot chocolates on the countertop.

Also on the second floor, Bad and Skeppy cuddle on their couch in front of their TV.

It plays the live action Grinch movie on low volume as they wrap themselves with blankets.

Occasional laughter is heard as Skeppy murmurs a joke to the other.

Above them, Sapnap, George, and Dream decorate their Christmas tree.

Every year, each one of them go out and get the most outlandish baubles they can find to decorate their tree with.

Wheezes echo through the halls as Sapnap puts a bauble on, written on it ‘Fuck You’.

Purpled laughs as he, Ponk, and Punz put up their stockings. Their names are written in glitter glue on the white, fluffy tops.

Purpled’s is, obviously, written purple. Punz’s is blue, and Ponk’s is red.

The brothers eat warm, freshly baked gingerbread cookies as they talk.

Finally, the Watson apartment.

“Techno, did you know, that no one actually likes you?”

“Tommy, did you know that I’m putting you back up for adoption?”

“Boys!” Phil reprimands, sharply looking up from stirring his coffee.

Having the decency to at least look sheepish, Tommy brandishes a candy cane from his mouth, the end sharp enough to cut a bitch.

Not looking at all sorry, Techno shows off his own, Sour Patch Kids candy cane, tip sharp.

Phil sighs in defeat, going back to stirring his coffee boredly. The boys had taken up the TV, which plays Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, so he can’t watch Criminal Minds.

Another day of no Spencer Reid. Phil could almost cry from the unfairness of it all.

Just as he goes to voice his complaints, his third son, Wilbur bursts out of his room, guitar in hand.

Tommy and Techno ignore their attention-seeking brother, and stab each other occasionally with the pointy candies.

Phil raises a brow at his son as Wilbur comes to stand at the table.

“Can I play you guys a song?”

The question doesn’t surprise Phil.

His middle son has a knack for music. Ever since he was 12, and Phil first adopted him. Wilbur had sung commercials tunes from the TV, made music from doing his chores.

What surprises him, however, is how nervous Wilbur looks.

It makes Phil soften.

“Sure, son,” He says, gently. It is not often that Phil is gentle with his kids, they just weren’t that type of family. It was always jokes and bits. But seeing Wilbur look anxious makes Phil soft.

His response makes Wilbur brighten, and he nods, almost to himself. “Okay, can you get Tech and Toms to sit down on the couch? You, too.” He says.

Laughing a little, Phil nods. He walks past the half-wall that walls off the kitchen from the living room. He could still see Wilbur in the kitchen, but he doesn’t look over.

“Boys, Wilbur’s going to play a song for us. Sit,” Phil commands, sitting down and patting the cushions on either side of himself.

Both of the boys flop on the couch like fish, Tommy sipping his apple juice.

Techno continues to sharpen his candy cane, and flicks Tommy’s shoulder, arm behind Phil’s back.

The younger teen shouts, indignant, and Phil regrets a lot of life decisions in a matter of only a few seconds.

After a glare shot at both of them, Phil relaxes into the couch.

Wilbur comes into the living room, still fiddling with the tuning keys.

He moves the armchair opposite the couch, sitting criss-cross on the seat.

Wilbur strums the first few notes on his guitar.

Tommy grabs a candy cane from the side table next to him and throws an unopened Starburst candy cane at his brother, “You suck!”

“Fuck you,” Wilbur sings.

I don't want a lot for Christmas

Phil lets a soft smile lift his lips as he listens to his son sing. Techno and Tommy relax, too. Tommy leans into Phil’s side, holding Henry, the plush toy’s soft fur against Phil’s arm.

There is just one thing I need

Downstairs, Tubbo giggles as Niki, giggling her own twinkling laugh, places marshmallows in his hot chocolate.

Eret groans, “He’s already had three cups, Niki!” Fundy laughs as he steals the bag of mini marshmallows and puts some in his own mug.

I don't care about the presents

“Do you want another hot chocolate, Eret?” Niki asks, smiling sweetly as the taller.

Sighing in defeat, Eret nods, unable to stifle a smile as the other three cheer, rushing to make him another cup.

Underneath the Christmas tree

Skeppy cuddles deeper into Bad, the taller man lowering the already quiet movie. “You muffin, you should go to your room, if you’re going to fall asleep.” Bad says softly, a teasing smile on his face.

I just want you for my own

A gentle laugh escapes Skeppy, and he grins up at Bad. “We have Christmas movies to watch, dude!” He says.

Bad nods, considering it. “Fine,” He whispers, eyes growing droopy. “We’ll watch a few more movies. But we can’t sleep on the couch.”

More than you could ever know

Skeppy nods, but both he and Bad know they’ll be asleep before the movies over.

And they both know they’ll wake up with sore necks and backs tomorrow, but they can’t seem to care that much.

Make my wish come true

“You’re both so stupid,” George says, but there’s no heat to his words. He’s grinning, sitting on the couch with a cup of peppermint tea.

Affronted gasps come from both his younger roommates, and green and brown eyes look over at him, filled with mirth.

All I want for Christmas is you

Dream is spinning tinsel around Sapnap, both giggling like school children. “I’m a tree, George! It’s my dream come true!” Sapnap says.

Cackling, Dream grabs a headband they’d bought last year, and places it on Sapnap’s head.

I don't want a lot for Christmas

The headband part is a bright, cherry red, and attached to the headband is a sparkling, golden star.

With the tinsel and lights around him, Sapnap looks better than their actual tree. George rolls his eyes fondly, “Sure, you want to stand there until the 25th, then?”

Never one to give up so quickly on a bit, Sapnap nods, “Of course!”

There is just one thing I need (and I)

Purpled snatches another gingerbread cookie, taking a bite of it. “You’re going to have a stomachache tomorrow,” Ponk says, looking over at him.

They’re supposed to be wrapping presents, but Purpled, apparently, sucks at wrapping.

Don't care about the presents

So he’d been sharked off to putting the stick-on bows after Ponk and Punz actually wrapped the present.

He shrugs, taking another bite. “Can I stick on a bow, now?” He says, motioning to a gift.

Underneath the Christmas tree

Punz nods, “Yeah. But only one this time, Purp.” He says, narrowing his eyes playfully.

Sticking his tongue out, Purpled snags a bright shiny green bow, and places it on the top of a present.

I don't need to hang my stocking

Christmas was never Techno’s favorite holiday. It was cold, and wet, and Techno didn’t enjoy being forced to act ‘holly-jolly’ for some stupid capitalist scheme.

There upon the fireplace (I)

But then he’d been adopted by Phil. And suddenly Christmas was about spending time with family, not how much money you spent on gifts.

And after two years of living with Phil, Wilbur came home, and Techno had a sibling to open presents with.

It was fun, Wilbur told him. For the first time in Wilbur’s life, Christmas was fun.

Santa Claus won't make me happy

Now, he had Phil, and Wilbur, and Tommy. Wilbur, at 12, was close in age to him, and so Techno, at 13, didn’t really feel that overprotective edge with him.

But when Tommy came home, at 10, all shyness and meek, Techno had promised himself that he was going to give Tommy the best Christmas ever.

With a toy on Christmas day

Wilbur smiles around the words as he sings. Fingers strumming a familiar tune on his guitar while he sings the cliché Christmas song.

He’d been nervous, to say the least, when requesting Phil and his brothers listen to the song he’d practiced from a month.

I just want you for my own (ooh)

But he looks at his family’s faces. Tommy is smiling, though he looks sleepy as he cuddles into Phil.

Techno has finally felt something, it seems, by the slight twitch of his lips Wilbur catches a glimpse of.

He glances around, ADHD causing him to get distracted by everything around him. But he looks happy, so Wilbur takes it as a win.

More than you could ever know (ooh)

Finally, Wilbur looks at his dad. Phil is beaming, vibrantly proud. Wilbur grins back at him, music starting to slow and quiet.

Make my wish come true

He laughs the end of his lyrics. The apartment is warm, smelling of Christmas spirit. His brothers are tired, leaning against their dad and cuddling blankets.

Christmas had always been stressful for Wilbur, but it was kinda fun, now.

All I want for Christmas is you (you, baby)

Christmas is coming, and Wilbur is really, really excited.

Chapter Text

Phil silently sips his coffee, (“How do you drink that, Dad? It tastes like orphan tears.” “You have been hanging around Techno too much.”) waking up slowly.

He usually would be waking the boys at this time, but today was Teacher Service Day.

Rubbing his eyes, Phil stretches in his seat. Thursday mornings are usually quite busy, because Wilbur has before-school band practice, and Techno has Hockey meetings.

But he’s excited for today. Phil gets today off early, and he’s planning to take the boys out for ice cream or something.

Some family bonding, or whatever it said on that really judge-y Facebook post.

Taking the final sip of his coffee, he quietly puts the mug in the sink and leaves for work.

***

Kicking Tommy’s door open, Wilbur, looking very frazzled, walks over to the younger boy’s bed.

Tommy is cuddled up with his pillows and blankets. Henry is snuggled in Tommy’s arms, the boy’s chin resting right above the stuffed animal’s head.

He looks so peaceful, and sweet. Wilbur almost feels bad waking him up.

Almost.

“Get the fuck up you little gremlin child!” Wilbur yells.

Tommy sits up immediately, Henry falling when his clutch on the plush toy releases. “Wilby?” Tommy mumbles, still evidently sleepy.

“We’re late! It’s 9:32!” Wilbur yells.

Within moments, the trio of brothers are rushing around their small apartment.

Wilbur and Techno’s room, which is usually clean, looks like S.W.A.T. raided it in their attempt to find clean clothes.

Sniffing a suspicious-looking shirt, Techno’s face scrunches at the smell, and he throws the shirt in the hamper. He picks up another shirt, and pulls it on when he decides it’s good enough.

Almost tripping on his way to the bathroom, Tommy kicks open the door, much like Wilbur did, and grabs his deodorant.

It doesn’t do much, given that Tommy is nervously red, anxiously looking at the clock in the living room before booking it back to his room.

Techno has two different colored socks on when he walks into the bathroom. Wilbur has a mixture of toothpaste-and-saliva dripping from his mouth, toothbrush barely staying in his mouth as he tries to fix his hair.

Finally giving up, he shoves a maroon-colored beanie on his head.

Techno shakes his head in disgust as Wilbur haphazardly throws his toothbrush in the sink, spitting out the toothpaste before leaving.

Tommy pulls on his velcro sneakers, and barely has time to grab his bag and phone before Wilbur is yelling for him in the living room.

“We have got to get you new shoes,” Wilbur laughs.

“We have got to get you a new personality.” Tommy snaps back.

Techno pulls on a coat, and shoves his brothers’s own coats in their hands before walking out of the apartment.

“Why didn’t anyone else wake us up?” Tommy whines, pulling on a deep red bomber jacket and following after his brother quickly.

Shrugging, Techno says, “It’s Thursday. We don’t take the bus on Thursday’s, so they probably assumed we’d already left.”

Tommy waves his arms around, “That’s bullshit! I always text Tubbo in the morning, how dare he not think something was wrong?” He yells.

“ClingyInnit,” Wilbur teases.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” Tommy says as they start down the stairs. They live on the third floor, so they have two flights of stairs to go through.

“We missed the bus, oh my fucking god-“ Wilbur realizes halfway down the second flight. Tommy is going to strangle himself, and quite possibly Wilbur if he ever wakes him up late again.

So when they get outside, they start running.

Tommy vaguely registers people in their cars looking over at them, but he doesn’t care. Phil will totally reprimand them if he finds out they slept through all three alarms and missed the bus.

And nothing sucks more than a Philza Minecraft lecture. It makes you feel like a terrible person.

Tommy grabs at the pocket of his backpack, reaching for the apple juice that’s always there. He wants to cry when he grabs nothing but the netting the pocket is made of.

Both of his brothers seem to be realizing, in their rush, they’d forgotten some of their own things. Techno doesn’t have his glasses, which he really only needs for reading, and Wilbur doesn’t have his guitar, but he doesn’t need to impress girls with his music talent during lunch.

Tommy needs his apple juice.

The phone in his pocket buzzes, and Tommy mumbles a quiet, “Fuck,” before grabbing it.

He reads the message, continuing to run. There are already cracks about the screen, so he doesn’t really care that much if another is added.

beeboy🐝
hy toms!!! u free to
play minceraft rn :D?

Confusion flits through his anxiety, and Tommy squints at the message like he’s the dyslexic one.

musicman🎵
tubbo wot r u on a
bout? we hav scool??

With him running, he can’t spell right. But the message gets across, Tommy guesses.

beeboy🐝
it’s techer serrvice
day?

Tubbo’s text makes him almost short-circuit. Tommy is going to throw himself in the busy street next to him.

musicman🎵
ur not serious

beeboy🐝
???

Tommy puts his head in his hands, almost on the verge of tears because this is fucking ridiculous.

“We can go home.” He says, looking up and stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. His brothers pause in their own running, and turn to him, bemused.

Techno is the first to speak, “What are you talking about, Tommy?”

He shows them his phone screen, “It’s fucking Teacher Service Day, god fucking damnit!” He yells.

***

Later, Phil laughs at them until he’s purple in the face. Tommy would punch the man if he didn’t think he’d get himself thrown out a window.

Chapter Text

Sapnap smiles charmingly at Mrs. Doherty, giving her the leash, her wrinkled-with-age hands taking it easily.

“You’re too sweet, dearie. I wish I could still walk ol’ Duchess, but I think she likes you more,” Mrs. Doherty laughs. Sapnap nods, a kind of forced laugh leaving him.

“It’s really no problem, Mrs. Doherty. I usually get $50 per hour.” Sapnap says, words practiced and easy on the tongue.

He’s on the nicer part of the city, where old money rich people live and pay good figures to ‘poor kids’ like him to walk their dogs and clean their houses.

The freshly-groomed Poodle on the other end of the leash, Duchess, glares at him.

It almost feels like she’s judging him for the dirt under his nails or the gucci eye-bags under his orbs. Sapnap frowns at her.

Mrs. Doherty nods, smiling, “Of course, dearie. Here you go.” She says kindly, handing him $150.

He waves before walking down her front door steps and starting his route around the neighborhood. Pumpkin, the last dog of the day, walks patiently beside him.

As he continues toward the final house of the day, Dream and George, already having dropped their dogs off at their homes, meet him at the corner.

Pumpkin nuzzles her head into his leg, tail wagging when Dream or George pet her.

When they get to Pumpkin’s owner’s house, Dream and George wait behind a little as Sapnap walks up to the door.

“Mr. Ackman?” Sapnap calls as he knocks. Pumpkin barks, excited, Sapnap guesses, to see her owner.

A muffled call of, “I’m coming!” is yelled to him. Sapnap taps his foot as he waits.

The door opens to reveal Mr. Ackman. “Take ‘er to the pound, will ya’? Tired of dealin’ with her.” He says, words roughly accented.

Surprised, Sapnap looks at Pumpkin, then back at Mr. Ackman. “What? Really?” He asks.

Mr. Ackman nods, “What! You want extra?” He asks snappishly.

Swallowing nervously, Sapnap’s hold tightens on Pumpkin’s leash when she tries to run inside the house.

“Can I keep her?” He asks in a split moment of really, really rash decision making.

Making a dismissive motion with his hand, Mr. Ackman grabs the door handle, and says, “I don’t care what ya’ do with ‘er.” before slamming the door.

Sapnap blinks at the dark oaken wood.

“Sap? What happened?” Dream asks, both George and him looking at them in confusion.

He holds up the leash a little, waving it a bit, “Guess who has another dog!”

***

Turns out, getting a dog without having the proper stuff for a dog, is pretty difficult.

Dream sips his water at the kitchen table, scrolling through his phone. “Maybe we can order stuff online?” He asks.

Ever argumentative, George, curled up on their old, thrift-store armchair, glares at him.

“The stuff will take at least a week to get here.”

The colorblind boy is, evidently, not very happy with the newest member to the zoo they’d been steadily collecting.

Putting his phone on the table, Dream frowns at George. “Stop being a bitch, George. Admit you like the dog.”

Sapnap giggles as George sputters silently, bewildered.

“You-! Ugh, I guess she’s cute.” He says, glancing over at Pumpkin.

Sapnap is cuddling Pumpkin on the couch, the big dog almost covering him entirely. The other pets of the apartment sit about the couch, too.

Lilly is curled up next to Sapnap’s head, her small furry head resting on his shoulder. Mogwai sits on the back of the couch, tail lazily swinging. Luca sits on the armrest of the couch, where Sapnap’s feet are. Cash and Patches lay, curled up together, against the couch on the floor.

“We could always just buy stuff from PetSmart.” He says, looking over at George.

“PetSmart is fucking expensive.” George gripes.

Huffing, Sapnap kisses Pumpkin’s head. “You just go play with the cats while we buy stuff.” He says.

George grabs his car keys from the side table and starts toward the door. “Let’s go.”

***

Sapnap walks around PetSmart with Pumpkin. Dream and George had readily abandoned him, rushing to the cat cages as soon as they entered.

“So, Pumpkin,” He coos, ruffling the dog’s soft fur. “Which food bowl do you want?” He asks, looking between the plethora of food bowls on the shelf.

The dog rubs her head against his leg, then looks between the bowls. Her paws pitter-patter against the tile as she walks closer.

Sapnap watches as she head butts a set of peach-colored bowls with small decorative bones printed on them.

He nods, grabbing the set. The price is decent, only twenty dollars. Sapnap waves them in front of her, “This one, girl? You want this one?” He asks, smiling when her tail wags faster.

Placing the food bowls under his arm, he heads off to the beds section.

None of their animals really slept in their pet beds, opting to instead to use the couches or counters or the human beds.

But Sapnap figures he might as well give it a try, so he lets Pumpkin pick out a bed, too.

It’s nothing too special, really just a big soft square surface for Pumpkin to lie on. “Good choice, Pumpkin.” He says warmly.

Now equipped with a cart, which he puts the bowls and bed into, Sapnap continues to shop. They go to the grooming aisle.

Shelves filled with brushes and sprays and such peer back at him. Sapnap grabs a simple peachy-pink colored brush and puts it in the cart.

Finally, they head to the toys aisle. Pumpkin barks excitedly at all the chew toys and squeakies. Laughing, Sapnap shushes her.

“Okay, we’ll get a few toys for you, then go get Dream and Gogy.” He says, letting Pumpkin wander and look at the toys.

She picks out a few throw-toys, some with squeakers. Pumpkin also slobbers all over a rubber chew toy, so Sapnap gets that, too.

Done with the shopping, Sapnap goes to the glass walled off area of the PetSmart. Dream and George are fawning over the small animals, and Pumpkin barks, eager to get their attention.

George is visibly pouting as they leave the room, and crosses his arms. Dream laughs as they start toward the cash registers.

“We already have Luca, Mogwai, Lilly, and Patches, George.” Dreams says.

Paying the cashier, Sapnap pipes up, “Yeah. I’m pretty sure the limit on animals is, like, two.” He says, flashing the lady a smile before starting toward the exit.

Dream nods, “Good thing the landlord never comes over, huh?” He asks, leaning down to pet Pumpkin absentmindedly. George hums.

***

“Oof!” Sapnap yells, suddenly torn from his sleep by a large mass jumping on his stomach.

He rubs his eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness of his room. It’s gotta be like two in the morning right now. What the fuck?

Looking down at the offending mass, he coos a little. Pumpkin is adjusting to get herself comfortable on his bed, sleepily laying her head on his leg.

Sapnap lets his head fall back down to his pillow with a hum, and pets Pumpkin slowly as he falls back asleep.

Chapter Text

Tommy is tired from hanging out with Schlatt and Quackity when he gets home. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his friends! But they can be tiring, even for him.

So he lazily turns the doorknob, and pushes the door open with his shoulders.

Music softly plays from the living room, echoing lightly through the apartment.

Tommy can see the colors associating themselves with the gentle strums. Oranges and pink mix at the edges of each other, teasing a warm peachy color.

Walking into the living room, he gazes dozily at the scene before him. Both Wilbur and Tubbo play their guitar and ukulele respectively, looking peaceful.

Laughter comes from them occasionally as he watches the domestic sight. He smiles, walking over.

Tommy sits on the couch, legs criss-crossed as he looks at Wilbur and Tubbo. Both hold an instrument, strumming their strings to create beautiful melodies.

“Hi, Toms.” Tubbo greets gleefully, waving at him from his position next to Wilbur on the floor.

“Hey, Tubs,” Tommy responds, leaning against the back of the couch comfortably. “What’re you guys doing?”

Tubbo smiles brightly, showing off his ukulele proudly, “Wilbur’s teaching me to play!”

The other’s excitement makes Tommy smile, even though his face hurts from all the laughing he’d been doing at Schlatt and Quackity’s.

Each of the boys admit a different color.

Tommy thinks he’s crazy, associating everyone he knows with colors. But it just happens.

Tubbo has dainty pinks and dark forest greens. Wilbur’s own colors are pretty sunrise oranges and delicate light yellows.

“Okay, put your finger here, and don’t put too much pressure while strumming,” Wilbur instructs, looking between his guitar and Tubbo’s ukulele.

The younger boy is a fast learner, and is perfecting things Wilbur had taken months to get right.

As they start to pluck at their strings, swirls of Wilbur’s yellows start to dance playfully at the edges of the orange.

Forest greens add a cooler touch to the warm colors, and Tommy likes how they flicker with overpowering oranges or pinks before returning to normal.

Wilbur smiles, “Good,” He says, words a smooth, golden yellow. Tubbo beams at the praise, and adjusts his fingers.

Tapping his fingers on his knee, Tommy glances between the two. “Can I try?” He asks, his own words a vibrant, cherry red despite his gentle tone. There is a whisper of a creamy white twirling at the edge of the bright color.

Immediately, Tubbo’s grin is aimed at him, and he is given the ukulele.

His long, thin fingers hold the ukulele’s narrow neck clumsily as he moves down to the floor, where the other two were practicing.

“Okay, move your fingers here,” Tubbo directs, grabbing Tommy’s pointer and middle fingers and placing them to make F. “And here.” He finishes, moving Tommy’s ring finger to C.

After inspecting his placement a little, Tubbo nods, “Okay, now strum.”

Tommy does, but it doesn’t sound right.

Maybe he messes up the chords, or puts too much pressure or not enough. But it doesn’t sound as pretty as Wilbur’s, or Tubbo’s.

The color is a white, only minimally dotted with fruity red. He frowns.

“You suck!” Wilbur laughs, not seeming to intend to hurt his feelings.

But the words sting a lot more than Tommy’s expects them to. He shoves the ukulele back into Tubbo’s hands, and moves back to the couch, muttering a hopefully not too hurt sounding, “Whatever.”

With his moody response, Wilbur seems happy to return to teaching Tubbo.

But before Wilbur can get Tubbo’s attention, the boy is placing the ukulele gently back into Tommy’s hands.

“You weren’t that bad. Just a bit rushed.” Tubbo says, always careful with his words. Gentle pinks and lighter shades of green poke at each other.

A huffing laugh escapes him, and Tommy lets his fingers be guided back to the chords.

Tubbo’s fingertips are rougher than his, months of heavy practice on the ukulele already toughening the skin.

But Tubbo is patient, laughing only a little when Tommy’s fingers slip from the thin strings. He smiles when Tommy’s frowns at the noise that comes from his playing on the ukulele.

“Don’t use too much pressure,” Tubbo says, repeating what Wilbur had told him earlier.

His words are mellow pink, comforting Tommy’s frustration.

Swallowing his pride, Tommy lets his fingers be eased up from their hurting position pushing down on the strings. “Okay, strum. Gentle, Toms.” Tubbo says.

“I got it,” Tommy snaps back, but there’s no heat in his words. He strums the strings gently, willing the noise to sound pretty with mixed colors like Wilbur’s and Tubbo’s.

It does.

It’s quiet, soft. But it’s pretty, and the white and red mix into a pleasant pink tone.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean ‘you owe me’? I don’t owe you shit, Wilbur!”

“Yes, you do, Vikk! I got you out of detention, now you owe me!”

“That’s bullshit! That was a year ago!”

“It’s the rules!” Wilbur yells, though they weren’t really fighting. He just needs someone to watch Tommy for a few hours, and Vikkstar was the only one who was in his debt.

Tommy glares between Wilbur and Techno. Phil had left him in their care. He was gonna snitch so hard when he sees his dad next time.

His eldest brother sticks his tongue out at Tommy, who hardens his glare.

Kicking his legs out boredly, Tommy glances over at Vikkstar. Vikkstar was one of Tommy’s idols, but he’d much rather be hanging out with Tubbo on first floor.

“Techno is going to a Hockey game, Tommy doesn’t like Hockey. Because of this, and Eret and Niki being busy, we need you to watch him,” Wilbur says, words honeycomb and charming.

That was something Tommy always admired about Wilbur. His slick and just pleasing enough to-the-ear words that could convince people to murder.

Schlatt had told him once that Wilbur was a better conman than both of them combined. Tommy had laughed, then, but after years of living with the other, he understood.

And the words worked.

“Ugh, fine. Come on, kid.” Vikkstar says, not looking very pleased with his predicament.

***

Apparently, Vikkstar lives in a Chad Pad. Capital C, capital P.

Big glass windows that don’t look like they’ve had to been replaced 3 times. Countertops that sparkle and reflect Tommy better than his mirrors at home do.

“Okay, kid. I have stuff to do, so just chill on the couch with your phone or whatever.” Vikkstar says, waving him off as soon as they step inside the house.

The living room is bigger than Tommy’s entire apartment, if looks like.

He flops on the couch, shoes living dirt tracks behind him. Vikkstar looks like he wants to say something as he looks at the mess, but refrains.

The couch at home is comfy, something like a bed with pillows and blankets draping on it.

Vikkstar’s rectangular, pristinely white brick of furniture, however, is not. Tommy feels his tailbone complain as he rubs at the pain.

“Your furniture sucks,” Tommy calls, making sure to be loud enough for the other to hear him.

He gets no response, so he grabs his phone and apple juice.

Sipping it liberally, Tommy scrolls through his Youtube recommendations. He’d forgot his headphones at home, so if he saw a video he wanted to watch, he just saved it to ‘Watch Later’.

A knock comes from the door a few minutes later, and Vikkstar is quick to run out of his bedroom to get it.

Blatantly ignoring Tommy, Vikkstar opens his front door. Vikkstar lives in a penthouse, on the nicer side of the city.

The hallway outside the front door is carpeted with carpet the looks actually clean!

Lazar stands outside the door. Lazar, an Australian exchange student that moved to the states after he’d turned 18. Tommy frowns at him, but Vikkstar gladly lets him in.

“Laz! What’s up, man?” Vikkstar asks, both of them going into the kitchen. Like at home, only a half-wall separates the kitchen from the living room.

Lazar shrugs, leaning on the counter nonchalantly. “Nothing much, dude. What’s the kid doing here, though?” He asks, looking over at Tommy.

Flushing at being caught staring, Tommy returns to his phone.

Groaning, Vikkstar says, “It’s the Watson kid. You know, the one that put a bunch of plastic bats around the school at the beginning of the year?”

Tommy couldn’t stop a small smirk from overcoming his face. That was a good day.

Laughing a little, Lazar nods. “Yeah. What’s he doing here?” He asks, amused.

“Well, I was in Wilbur’s debt, so he forced me to watch his brother while he and Techno go to a Hockey game.”

Tommy pouts to himself at the mention of his brothers. Rarely did they put him off to be someone else’s worry, so he shouldn’t be too upset, but it still sucks.

He chews on his lip, playing with the velcro on his shoes. Tommy feels hungry, after not eating for five hours.

Sipping the apple juice feels weird, too, as the liquid drops into an empty stomach.

Usually he would complain to Wilbur or Techno, and given a sandwich for his troubles.

But this is Vikkstar, and it feels awkward.

“I’m starving, man. Can we ditch the kid for a second?” Lazar asks, as if reading Tommy’s stomach.

The glasses-wearing man groans, “Wilbur and Techno were pretty clear I’d be found in a ditch if I left Tommy alone and he got hurt.” He says.

Tommy can hear Lazar snickering, “What’d you so to be in the Watson’s debt, man? I gotta make sure I stay away from them.” He laughs.

“Wilbur got me out of detention last year, pulled it up on me.”

Nodding, Lazar shrugs, looking back over at Tommy again. The boy fidgets with his phone under his gaze. “Why don’t we just go to Macca’s?”

“Sure,” Vikkstar says, looking over at him. “Hey, kid, we’re going to McDonald’s.” He says, like Tommy isn’t five fucking feet away from him and can’t hear him.

McDonald’s = Macca’s? Tommy thinks, frowning.

Tommy comes to the realization, then, that he does not like Australians. Especially ones that call McDonald’s, ‘Macca’s. Like what kind of psychopath does that?

“Why the fuck you say it like that?” He asks.

“Do you want to go, or not?”

“Fine, bitch!”

***

Vikkstar’s car is fucking awesome, Tommy hates to admit.

It had a seat-warmer option, and rubber, removable cup holders. The doors are slick and the outside’s medium grey paint job is really good.

Fiddling with his phone, Tommy looks out the (really cool) tinted windows. Skyscraper buildings pass in a blur, people seemingly zooming passed them with how fast they drive.

“So why didn’t you just go to the Hockey game?” Vikkstar asks, turning left.

Tommy shrugs, “They’re boring. Plus, I already know Techno’s gonna win, so why go?”

“Well, don’t you like sports?” Lazar asks, twisting in his seat to look at him. Tommy frowns at him, hoping he’s giving the other his best ‘really?’ face. “Right.” Lazar says, turning back around.

People on motorcycles ride past the car.

Tommy watches them with interest- Techno had talked about getting one for a few months, and Tommy understood. They were really cool looking.

The car turns right, and the motorcycles are gone. Tommy glances over at Vikkstar in the driver’s seat.

“What, kid?” Vikkstar asks, finally pulling into the parking lot of McDonald’s. Tommy glances away, “Nothing. Am I getting food?” He asks.

“Do you want food?”

He thinks of declining, but his empty stomach clenches and he nods, humming.

Instead of going to the drive through like Tommy thought they would, Vikkstar pulls into a parking spot. Both Vikkstar and Lazar unbuckle themselves and start to leave the car.

Quickly, Tommy follows suit, determined to not look dumb in front of his idol and said idol’s best friend.

Tommy feels familiar with the actions. His older brothers drive him places all the time, and he’s not a stranger to being left behind in the car.

“I didn’t know we were going inside,” He comments quietly, fidgeting with his phone.

He feels underdressed, even though half the people inside the McDonald’s look like they just rolled out of bed at 4 p.m., and the fact that it’s a /McDonald’s/.

Lazar shrugs, “Vikk likes to go inside places to eat. Weirdo.” He teases. The jab goes ignored as Vikkstar starts toward the line.

The person in front of them looks like they’ve been electrocuted, their hair is so frizzy. Tommy giggles at it, making the person turn around, and he freezes when he makes direct eye-contact with the woman.

“What’s so funny, cunt?” She asks, startlingly angry after just a few seconds. Tommy flinches a little at the name, too many memories of past foster parents rushing to him.

She sneers, ignoring the freaked-out sideways glances she gets for yelling in a McDonald’s. “I asked you a question, bitch! The fuck you laughin’ at?”

Tommy feels his hands start to shake, his first instinct is to cover his face. “S-sorry,” He mumbles shakily, letting Vikkstar and Lazar move in front of him.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Vikkstar asks, sheilding Tommy from the woman’s unnecessarily furious gaze. “He’s a kid, he laughed, leave him the fuck alone.” Lazar snaps, and Tommy can see him glare the woman down.

A man comes from the back of the McDonald’s comes out of the door labeled ‘Employee’s Only’. He’s dressed in an all black McDonald’s uniform. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” He says, hands in front of him as if talkinh to a wild animal.

The way she snarls, Tommy guesses it isn’t a too far-off estimation.

“He’s laughing at me, the little shit. Look at him, smug!” She shrieks, pointing at him through the wall Vikkstar and Lazar have created.

Tommy doesn’t know where she got that. He can feel himself shaking, eyes prickling with unshed tears. He just wanted some fucking french fries, and now he was going to have a breakdown in McDonald’s, in front of his idol and his idol’s best friend.

He should’ve just gone to the fucking Hockey game.

“He looks like he’s about to cry, ma’am. If you don’t leave, now, I’m going to have to call the authorities.” The manager says, sounding a bit more than a little irritated.

Risking a glance at the woman, Tommy shrinks into himself as she screams profanities, staring him in his face. Then she leaves, and it’s deafeningly quiet.

After a few moments, everything goes back to normal. The costumer continues to order their food, and conversation begins to stir again.

The manager, whose nametag Tommy can now read clearly- Richard- smiles at them.

“I apologize for that. Your meal is on the house, from me.” He says. Vikkstar grins at him, “Thank you!”

When the manager walks away, Lazar nudges him, oddly gently, with an elbow. “Least we got a free meal, yeah,
kid?” He asks.

Tommy smirks at him, “You’re welcome,” He says, nervousness dissapating.

Chapter Text

Loud noises got to be too much, sometimes. They pierced his ears, making his head pound with pleads for quiet. Tommy was loud, sure, but sometimes having nonstop noise around him got overwhelming.

So his old Social Worker, a kind, older woman named Ms. Helga, got him a iPod after he’d been sent back because his foster parents couldn’t handle his ‘episodes’.

It was small enough to hide in his pockets, and she’d helped him download a few calming songs to help him with sensory overload. “Remember to breathe while listening, Thomas,” She said.

When he’d come to the Watson’s house, the only thing he’d done was listen to his iPod’s crackly, kind-of quiet Mellohi and Cat.

Ms. Helga had retired after he’d been adopted by the Watson’s. But Tommy still gripped the iPod with a feeling of nostalgia and a sense of comfort. It felt nice to have s piece of her with him.

Nodding to the soft, foreboding sounds of Mellohi, Tommy enters the cafeteria.

People talk and laugh almost earsplittingly loud. Tommy tries to focus on the instrumental song, walking quickly over to his table.

His hand grips the small iPod tightly.

Tubbo smiles at him, lowering his voice accordingly when he spots the headphones.

“Can I listen?” Tubbo asks, pointing at Tommy’s headphones. With only a little hesitation, he pulls his right headphone out and hands it to the older boy.

“Thanks,” Tubbo murmurs, fiddling with the thin cord connecting the headphones to the iPod.

Tommy shrugs minimally, “No problem,” He says.

Taking the iPod out of his pocket, Tommy sets the tiny device on the lunch table. The combination of Tubbo and calming music makes Tommy relax in his seat.

Mellohi ends, replaced by Wait, a newer song by the same guy who’d made Mellohi, C418.

Tubbo pushes his plate on school-made nachos in front of Tommy, who scrunches his nose at the, frankly, disgusting looking food.

“Just eat a few chips, Tommy. You can’t live on apple juice.” Tubbo says, encouraging.

Grabbing his apple juice from his backpack, Tommy takes a sip, “Watch me.” He says.

Good-naturedly, Tubbo rolls his eyes.

***

When lunch is finished, Tubbo and Tommy walk down the hall to their fourth period. Headphones still cozily placed in their ears, the iPod playing the funky notes of Cat.

But Tommy feels the iPod leave his hand, and even though his first instinct is to tighten his grip, the iPod ends up in Dream’s hands.

Narrowing his eyes at the smirking teen, Tommy sneers. “Give me back my iPod, you bitch!” He yells, knowing he’ll probably get dragged to office but not very much caring.

Something furious and dread-filled twists in Tubbo’s stomach as the two watch Dream pop the headphones into his ears.

Dream, tall and (actually not all that) menacingly smug, smirks at them. “Nah. I like the songs.” He says.

Feeling like he’s suffocating, Tommy watches Dream walk down the hall. “I’m gonna get it back, right Tubbo?”

Tubbo nods confidently, looking at his friend, “Of course we are, Toms!”

***

Turns out, Tubbo is wrong.

Dream keeps Tommy’s iPod, face smug as he makes no attempt to hide it from him during lunch.

They both know Tommy isn’t strong enough to fight him for it, so he’s stuck glaring at the bastard.

When he gets home the first day, Wilbur and Techno laugh at him when he tells them. So he’s stuck on his own, of course with Tubbo, to get his iPod back.

Picking at his finger nail in class, Tommy’s mind is rscing. He needs to get his iPod back.

The bell rings loudly, startling Tommy out of his thoughts. He looks up quickly, watching his classmates pack up their bags and rush for the door.

Feeling sluggish, Tommy packs up his things, and leaves the classroom with nothing but an empty stare.

It isn’t often he feels hopeless, but Tommy doesn’t know what to do. He knows that if Techno and Wilbur knew how important the iPod was to him, he’d have it in his hands right now. But that’d only get him teased for needing his (much scarier) older brothers to come save him.

So he keeps his head down as he walks to the cafeteria. It’s one of the too-loud days, where his ears ring with even the quietest of words. He vaguely considers texting Phil, who’d no doubt come to get him, but shakes it off.

Phil’d be too busy, anyway. Tommy sits next to Tubbo, where he usually does. Their friends talk and laugh loud, like they don’t know the definition of ‘quiet’.

He ignores Tubbo's overly obvious concerned glances, and shoves his head in his arms, praying to just fall asleep until fourth period.

But Fundy laughs loudly at an even louder told joke Schlatt makes. And Quackity screams the song lyrics to ‘I Wanna See Some Ass’ with Sapnap.

Tommy feels tears prick at his eyes, he feels like he’s drowning.

But then, cutting through the noise, is music.

Confusion flits through everyone at his table, some even looking at their phones to find the source of the calming, jazz notes of Stal.

All except Tommy, who knows the song by heart with how many late nights he couldn’t fall asleep he’s had.

Turning in his seat, he makes eye contact with Dream, who holds his tiny, precious iPod in his hand.

The whereabouts of his headphones don’t really concern Tommy, but the absence of them does. Dream knows what he’s doing. Dream could be dumb sometimes, but he never did something without a purpose.

Playing Stal from Tommy’s iPod in front of him is a deliberate attack.

Tubbo grabs his hand comfortingly, not looking at him but instead frowning at Dream, disapproving.

Morality doesn’t play a part on Dream’s intentions or plans, however, so it has no effect on the older man. In fact, the music gets slightly louder. Tommy lets out a sharp breath.

“Isn’t that yours, Tommy?” Wilbur asks. Tommy knows that Wilbur knows it’s his, he just doesn’t care. It’s not meant to hurt- it’s supposed to be taken as light and gentle teasing.

The noise makes Tommy’s head feel like it’s exploding, and he just wants to curl up on his bed with Tubbo and Henry, listening to Mellohi and Cat.

Instead he just turns back in his seat, curls up in his chair, and buries his face in his knees. He tries to focus on his breathing.

Chapter Text

With a weak groan, Techno sits up in his bed.

“Techno, good, you’re awake.” He looks up to see his doorway, where Phil stands. “Me and Toms are going to the zoo with Tubbo, and Wil said he’ll be at Niki’s all day. You good by yourself?” He asks.

It takes Techno a moment to process the onslaught of words, but when he does, he nods. Wordlessly, he gives his dad a thumbs up.

A smile appears on Phil’s face, and he walks over to press a gentle kiss on Techno’s temple. “We should be home by dinner,” He says before he leaves the room.

Left alone, Techno gazes absently at his room, taking in all the details like he’s done a million times before.

He’s probably studied every nook and cranny of this apartment since they moved here. Techno swallows, throat oddly dry. “Phil,” He says, trying to get himself to talk.

His dad doesn’t respond. Techno frowns, wanting to call to the man again.

But before he can, Phil is calling to him, “We’ll be back, Tech! Love you!”

Like when he’d first come to the Watson home, he bangs his fist twice against the thin wall. They’d devised a system, long forgotten, for when Techno went nonverbal. Two hits, meaning, “I heard you, love you too.”

Without another word, the front door slams shut.

The house goes anxiously quiet.

Techno taps against his leg silently as he starts toward the kitchen. He grabs his favorite thermos, and his favorite tea. Techno much prefers coffee, but rarely does Phil buy it, as 3/4th of the house are Brits.

He turns on the Keurig and places the lavender tea bag in the thermos, under the hot-water pour.

It only takes a few moments before he’s sipping a thermos of steaming lavender tea.

There is a knock at the door right as Techno sits on his couch. He frowns at the door, then at his cartoon pig-print pajama pants. He stands up with a sigh, and opens the door.

Schlatt and Quackity stand outside the two clad in their own pajamas. Techno feels a little better in his own wrinkled, old sleepwear.

“Techno! Come with us,” Schlatt says brightly, entirely too awake for Techno’s liking.

His arms are grabbed, grip firm but not suffocating, and Techno is brought to the two’s apartment across the hall.

‘What am I doing here?’ He signs, frowning at the two.

Quackity walks him to the kitchen, which Techno struggles not to barf at.

The entire thing is hello-kitty themed. And Quackity looks 100% serious about whatever he’s going to talk about, which makes this situation so much worse.

“The fuck are you doing? You better not be summoning demons in my fucking hello kitty kitchen, Techno.” Quackity says, frowning deeply at his hands.

Techno puts his head in his heads, feeling almost in physical pain with how fucking stupid this bitch is.

“Oh my god, he’s signing, Quackity! Show some respect, oh my god.” Schlatt says, oddly the respectful one for once.

Quackity bursts out laughing, “Oh my god! Are you really?” He asks. When Techno nods defeatedly, another round of laughs escapes him.

“Dude! Okay, you don’t need your voice for this, so that’s good,” Quackity says, grabbing a horrendous hello-kitty stickered laptop from the counter and showing him the screen.

The screen displays Amazon, showing hello-kitty mugs. “Point to the one you think we should get,” Quackity says, nauseatingly serious.

‘Really?’ He signs, giving the two an unimpressed look.

Quackity pulls puppy-dog eyes- which don’t work, because Techno lives with Phil and Tommy, but he looks back at the the screen, defeated.

Cheering, Quackity points to two different mugs. “This one I like,” He says, tapping the screen on a bright, hot pink mug with painted on bright neon yellow bows, with the handle the same color, “And this one Schlatt likes. Pick one.” Schlatt’s one is pastel pink, with a light blue handle and a simple pastel-colored hello-kitty head on the front.

Techno looks between the mugs with a sigh, and points to the pastel one.

“Fuck!” Quackity yells, but he looks playful. “Ugh, you can leave, Techno.”

Quickly, Techno goes to the door. “Don’t be so upset, flatty patty.” Schlatt says right before he closes the door.

Quackity’s screams of denial, however, he hears even back in his bedroom.

Chapter Text

It starts pretty simple. Covid hits, so everybody has to quarantine. But, when you live in an apartment filled with crackheads and people who literally could commit murder, things quickly go downhill.

“Who the fuck filled my dresser with cream cheese?!”

“Who the fuck stole all my shoelaces, Wilbur?!”

“I told you that was fucking Fundy, Quackity!”

“You’re a goddamn liar!”

The third floor residents are currently fighting. Second floor is practically on fire. First floor patrons laugh as they cause chaos without consequence.

Wilbur comes back inside from the hallway, slamming the door. He runs to his bedroom, looking absolutely fuming.

“I’ll help you clean your drawer later, Wil!” Phil calls from the couch. Wilbur peaks his head out of his bedroom doorway, and flashes him a tight smile and thumbs up.

He won’t step in- not yet. Phil knows what it’s like to be young and just want to have playful fun with your friends.

Wilbur adjusts his hat, and puts on his converse. “I’m going to the mall with Niki. Should be back in a few hours.” Wilbur says. Phil nods, smiling, “Okay. I’ll probably text you to get McDonald’s for dinner or something.”

Nodding, Wilbur leaves. Phil turns back to the TV, playing the fifth season of Criminal Minds. It’s his favorite, because the team is the best cast.

“Father.” Techno says, standing at the end of the couch. Phil pauses Criminal Minds, and turns to look at his son. He chokes.

There, Techno stands, with lime green wet hair.

“What the fuck?”

Techno stares at him, making direct eye contact- which Phil almost shrinks under. His son doesn’t like eye contact, his ADHD and anxiety always making it harder for him. It feels weird to stare him directly in the eyes.

“I am going to commit a murder.” Techno says, voice threatening.

“I agree. Go kill green boy, Tech. I’ll see if we can get your hair fixed.” Phil says, glancing again at the boy’s hair and unable to look away.

Dream better have a plan to fix it, Phil thinks, because honestly Phil has no idea what to do. Though, knowing him, he probably doesn’t.

His son nods, and quickly leaves for Dream’s apartment on the second floor.

Grabbing his phone, Phil tries every possible google search he can to see if he can fix Techno’s hair.

Most of the answers are just hair-care tips. The only thing he gets any hope from is maybe the dye is temporary, and should be washed out in two to three washes.

Phil can hear Quackity cackling, most likely at Techno, before the hallway goes strangely quiet.

“Dad?” Tommy asks right as Phil reaches over to the coffee table to grab the remote to unpause the show. He sighs a little, but looks over.

“Yeah, Toms?” He asks with a small smile.

Yawning, Tommy walks over. “Fundy’s notebook is now covered in glue.” He says causally, sitting down next to him.

Phil’s eyes go wide, and he looks over at Tommy incredulously. Tommy looks up at him, “What?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Phil asks, “Did you recreate the pages, at least?” He’s already thinking of ways to apologize to the boy. Tommy looks confused, and Phil sighs.

“Call me flatty-patty again and I’ll throw your conning ass out of the apartment for a week!” Quackity screams from across the hall. Tommy laughs, confusion forgotten.

Tubbo bursts into the apartment, “Techno is beating Dream up.” He says excitedly. Phil would’ve found the glee in his face odd, but he had no room to judge when his kids were the way they were.

The whole apartment goes quiet for a moment, until Dream’s screams and shrieks of laughter are heard faintly from downstairs.

Tommy stands up, and rushes out of the apartment to go see what’s happening with Tubbo. Phil can hear the boys going down the stairs to get to the second floor.

Phil barks out a laugh, and unpauses his show. He won’t step in just yet- let them have their fun.

Chapter Text

Not much phased Tommy. He had grown up in the system, tossed from foster home to group home and back again. Abusive parents and cruel foster siblings before going to the Watson’s house had toughened him considerably.

But if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was being told to shut up. And all day, that was what happened.

Tubbo had snapped at him this morning, complaining of a headache. Of course, Tubbo had immediately apologized, looking extremely guilty, but that was the first time in a long list for the day.

Later, while he was in science class, his teacher had called him out for asking his table partner a question on atoms, their unit for this week. Tommy had flushed in humiliation as the rest of the class snickered and giggled at his misfortune.

Throughout the entire day, he had been told off and shushed. Each time, Tommy felt closer to bursting into tears.

He adjusts his grip on his bag as he walks home. During lunch, he’d been given detention for talking too loud after being given three warnings. He feels like throwing up on the sidewalk.

He’d already texted Phil, but Tommy could feel the irritation from his dad through the phone, and he was on the verge of tears by the time he got to D-534M.

Scrubbing angrily at his wetting eyes, Tommy pushes the lobby door open to enter the complex.

Anxiety swirls in his tummy, and Tommy feels like he’d back in his old foster homes, and he’s about to be locked in the closet again. Even though Phil had never even raised his voice while Tommy was there.

He stuffs his phone in his hoodie pocket, and fiddles with a stray string as he starts up the stairs.

This whole day had been ridiculous. Tubbo had snapped at him, which never happens, everybody in his science class had laughed at him, and then he’d been given detention.

His brain, still, somewhere in the back of his mind, is hardwired to think everything is dangerous. It screams at him danger danger danger- until it pounds in his head.

Tommy puts the heels of his palms against his ears, stopping on the second floor. This was all too much- Tommy couldn’t go home right now. He didn’t want to be yelled at.

Wobbling, he walks over to Dream’s apartment door. He shakily knocks on the door, feeling silly even as he did so.

The door opens quickly, like every action Dream did. The man stands before him, looking down at him in confusion.

“What do you want, Tommy?”

“Can we please watch Disney movies?”

His voice sounds weak, even to him. Dream’s eyebrows furrow, but he nods. He steps back and lets Tommy come inside. “You okay?” He asks, closing the door when Tommy walks inside.

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again, and shakes his head, looking at the floor.

Dream wraps an arm around his shoulders, nodding, “That’s fine. We can go watch Disney movies. I’ll get Gogy to make popcorn.” He says, voice purposefully quiet. Tommy appreciates it an unnecessary amount.

After being left on the couch, Dream leaves to George’s room, where Sapnap and the other Brit are. Tommy drops his bookbag on the ground next to the couch with a soft thud!

He grabs his Longhorn build-a-bear stuffed animal.

The cute plush is named Henry, and has a small voicebox and press-to-play button in it’s paw. Tommy presses it gently, melting when a younger Wilbur and Techno, and Phil’s voices come out, saying, “Welcome home!”

Tommy had gotten it on his first full official day in the Watson’s house, back on Earth Street.

He leans against the overstuffed armrest, and cuddles the toy to his chest as he waits for Dream to come back.

“Do you really have your dirty shoes on our couch?” Dream laughs a little, both George and Sapnap following him out of George’s room. Sapnap holds a ton of blankets in his arms, and walks over to the couch, dropping the blankets on Tommy.

Tommy lets out a tiny ‘oof’, kicks his shoes off and sticks his tongue out at Sapnap.

The older adjusts the blankets on top of Tommy, unfolding them and laying them on him. With how many there were, it’s a comforting light weight.

Tommy cuddles Henry, and looks on sleepily as George brings back popcorn, covered in butter and cheese. Dream shows him four different DVD cases, reading ‘Mulan’, ‘Cinderella’, ‘Beauty and the Beast’, and ‘Mary Poppins’.

“Which one, Toms?” Dream asks gently.

Sapnap sits next to him on the couch, and George sits on one end of the loveseat. “Mary Poppins.” Tommy mumbles into the blankets.

Nodding, Dream puts it into tue DVD player, and starts up the movie.

“Does your dad know your here?” Sapnap asks, looking over at him. Tommy flushes, and shakes his head
minimally. George is quick to pull out his phone, and, Tommy assumes, tells his dad where he is.

“Can I stay?” He asks quietly, so soft it might not have been heard if the movie had been any louder.

Miraculously, George hears him.

George nods, a small smile on his face. “I told him you’re watching a movie, and he said he wants you home as soon as it’s finished.” He says gently.

They go back to the movie after that. Tommy knows he’ll have to explain himself to his dad and brothers later, but for now, he’s content to just watch Mary Poppins.

Chapter Text

This was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Purpled had been hanging out with Tubbo and Tommy in the lobby, antagonizing Schlatt, when Sapnap texted him.

He had groaned, explained this to Tubbo and Tommy, and left’s for Sapnap’s apartment.

Impatient, he knocks on the door rapidly. “Purp?” Sapnap calls, sounding close to the door.

“Yes! Now let me in!” He yells, frowning at the door.

Usually, he wouldn’t be in such a bad mood, but Sapnap was being weird. His message had been a simple ‘come to my place’, and he had left him on read when Purpled responded ‘why?’. Purpled wasn’t scared, of course- he knew Sapnap would never hurt him, but he was concerned.

Sapnap opens the door, a wide grin on his stubbled face. Purpled glances at the stairs when they creak before his attention is brought back to Sapnap.

“Purp!” He cheers, inviting him in and moving out of the way of the doorway. Purpled clicks his tongue.

He walks inside slowly, glancing around to see, maybe, if there is a prank waiting for him on the other side of the door. Neither Dream or George are even here, so he relaxes a little. He glances questioningly at Sapnap.

Grabbing his arm, Sapnap drags Purpled over to the couch. He almost falls on his face halfway there, because he’s so much lighter than Sapnap that he can practically be carried.

Purpled looks over the couch, confused at the mound of furry stuff on the couch.

It takes him a moment to realize it’s a dog, and one that’s not Cash.

Purpled can’t fucking believe this. “You got another dog?” He asks incredulously.

“Yeah!” Sapnap says, looking at the dog with adoration in his eyes. He is absolutely smitten, it seems, with the dog.

Sapnap, Dream, and George had, what? Six collective animals? In one apartment! But he isn’t ‘responsible enough’ for a fish? What is this ageism?

“Ponk won’t even get me a fish! What the fuck!”

At his yell, Pumpkin snorts.

He sits down on the Dream Team couch, and immediately, the dog is crawling onto his lap, making herself comfortable.

“What’s your name, girl? Huh?” He coos, petting the dog gently. Her fur is coarse, but relatively soft. Purpled looks up when Sapnap sits on the loveseat/small-couch-thing.

“Her name is Pumpkin,” Sapnap says, smiling.

He leans over to pet the fluffy puppy. Purpled scratches her chin like she’s a cat, but by her tail’s vigorous wagging, Purpled figures she likes it.

“I’m sure I could convince Purpled to get you a cat or something.” Sapnap offers, leaning back against the couch comfortably.

Purpled shrugs, “I just want a gold fish, or something. All my friends have enough animals to keep me busy, anyway.” He says.

They fall into a comfortable silence. It’s always comfortable with Sapnap, Purpled thinks. The older boy is never awkward or tense- he always goes with the flow. Purpled admires that about him.

After a few quiet, calming minutes, the front door is knocked on. Purpled glances over his shoulder curiously.

Sapnap gets up to open the door. When he does, Purpled’s brothers’ voices are heard. “Hey, Purpled, we have to- oh,” Ponk cuts himself off.

Purpled turns to look at them over his shoulder, grinning, “Hey guys!” He greets.

His older brothers come closer, looking over the dog. “Ohh, cute,” Ponk says, grinning at the dog and leaning down to pet Pumpkin.

“What’s his name?” Punz asks, looking over at Sapnap, who had also walked closer.

“Pumpkin- the newest addition to the zoo.” Sapnap laughs. His face gains a cheeky grin, “Of course,” He trails off, but they all know what he’s about to say.

Ponk glances up at him, “You can’t convince us to get Purpled a dog, Sap.” He says sternly.

The youngest pouts, giving his brothers his best puppy-dog eyes. Punz looks at him with a smug smirk, “Ponk used those on me a million times when we were younger, Purp. Yours, need work.” He criticized.

Purpled gives an over dramatically affronted gasp, pretending to be offended. “My puppy-eyes are adorable!”

Chapter Text

Tommy wipes his sweaty palms on his black dress slacks.

He’s oddly nervous, anxiety swirling through him. He stands behind the curtains with a few others, waiting for his turn to be called to the stage and play his piece. But Tommy can’t help but pinch his face and shake.

“Toms?” Tubbo asks from next to him. Tubbo is apart of the tech-help crew, making sure everything goes accordingly. Tommy looks over at him.

The older boy’s face softens when he sees Tommy’s, and he puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” He asks, eyes bleeding concern. Tommy sighs, leaning into Tubbo’s touch.

“Yeah,” He answers after a moment, “I’m okay. Just a little... nervous, I guess.” He shrugs. It feels embarrassing to say the words- makes him feel like he’s admitting to something shameful, even though he knows, deep down, it’s not.

A small smile appears on Tubbo’s face, “That’s normal,” He assures, “But, you are up next, so,” He trails off, smile widening cheekily.

Tommy takes a deep calming breath, shaking his hands out a little before he listens to the principle as she announces his turn. “Now, playing piano, welcome Tommy Watson to the stage!”

A round of uproarious, thundering clapping erupts from the audience, and Tommy allows himself to smile before walking out from behind the curtains.

There, in the large, almost overwhelming audience, is the entire complex, toward the front. Dream, George, and Sapnap grin at him, confident. Purpled and Ranboo are cheering for him in front of them. And finally, his brothers and dad, looking at Tommy with so much pride and love in their eyes it almost makes Tommy melt.

He walks over to the school-issued piano leisurely. Tommy sits down on the stool, and sets his fingers on the keys.

It feels completely familiar, like he knows everything about what he’s about to play.

When he presses down on the first key, pops of light blue explode in his vision. They are bright and colorful, swirling in the air like watching someone draw on thin air. Dark reds sprinkle around the color as he continues to play.

Tommy flicks his wrist and presses multiple keys at once, fingers moving quickly. Hands spread across the board, fingers straining.

Flurries of blue and red mix together pleasingly, displaying a beautifully dark, royal purple. Tommy grins to himself as he continues, the entire auditorium hall silent, completely enraptured with his music.

He watches the colors dance along to his music. Magentas and pinks show face every few seconds, kissing at the purples and blues. Tommy glances at the audience, who all look entranced by his piano-playing.

He knows they can’t see the colors, Phil had explained he was the only one who could, but in them watching him in wonder makes him feel like they can.

Pride swirls in him, the anxiety disappearing almost completely. A rosy pink sparkles against the ocean blues. Then the song is over.

When Tommy takes his hands off the piano, the audience explodes with clapping, cheering, and screaming praise. “That was wonderful! And, that’s our last act of the show! What a wonderful way to end the night!” The principle says.

Tommy rushes off behind the curtains again, and flushes when Tubbo throws himself at him, smiling widely.

“You did great, Toms! Oh my god!” He yells in his ear, pulling back for only a moment before pulling into a hug again.

His flush deepens when Wilbur, Techno, and Phil come running backstage, along with the rest of the complex. All of them look immensely proud of him, and Tommy smiles bashfully at them.

“Tommy!” Wilbur yells, running toward him and picking him up, spinning him around dizzily before hugging him tightly.

Phil smiles lovingly at him, “You did great, Tommy.” He says, beaming with pride. Techno is what surprises him, however, when Techno beams at him, practically glowing with happiness.

“Good job, kid.” Techno says, ruffling his hair when Wilbur sets him back down.

After all of his friends’ congratulations, Tommy leans against Tubbo comfortably. “Can we go out for celebration dinner?” He asks, looking over at his dad.

Unfortunately, most of them have stuff to do, or had already ate before the talent show. But, Tommy still gets to go to dinner with Tubbo, Phil, Wilbur, and Techno.

They end up letting Tommy decide where they eat, and he picks Applebee’s in seconds.

Tommy grins as he chews on his mashed potatoes, topped with bacon, cheese, and broccoli, swallowing his bite before yelling back to Wilbur that, no, he is not, in fact, a bitch-boy, and Wilbur is the actual bitch-boy in this Applebee’s tonight.

Chapter Text

Niki: Das ist alles deine schuld!
Schlatt: I know, I know
Wilbur: You speak German?
Schlatt: No, i just know the phrase ‘this is all your fault’ in every language

Flight Attendent: Before we tale off, please make sure all safe items and safely secured
Wilbur: *looks down at Phil*
Phil: What?
Wilbur: Do you feel safe?
Phil: I’m going to throw you off the plane

Eret, pushing the side of Fundy’s head: boop
Fundy: *sneezes*
Eret: *gasp* I made him malfunction!

Techno: *saves Tommy’s life*
Techno: So I guess you owe me?
Tommy: No, you saved me now I’m your problem
Techno: What-?
Tommy: God wanted me dead, now you get to find out why

Phil: Because people are buried in their best clothes, the zombie apocalypse would be a very formal affair
Techno: If I ever die, I’m gonna be buried in battle armor. Good luck.

Karl: What mouse walks on two legs?
Sapnap: Mickey
Karl: Okay, what duck walks on two legs?
Sapnap: Donald
Karl: No, all of them
Sapnap:
Sapnap: This is the last time you make a fool of me in my own house goddamnit

Tommy: Thanks for tuning into this episode of ‘Tubbo and Tommy’s Video Diary’ where we review hair products!
Tommy: *sprays Wilbur’s hairspray directly into Tubbo’s mouth*
Tubbo: So right off the bat, this one is not very good

Schlatt: Picking locks is my specialty
Schlatt: *throws a brick through a window*
Schlatt: Let’s go

Tommy, introducing Ranboo to his friends: That’s Purp, short for Purpled- he’s working on a project with Deo, short for Time Deo. Oh! And there’s my brothers, Wil and Techno, short for Wilbur and Technoblade. And there’s Tubbo.
Ranboo: Is Tubbo short for anything?
Tommy: Nah, he’s just short

Eret: Damn, the power went out
Tubbo: Don’t worry, I got this!
Tubbo: *shakes rapidly and starts to light up*
Niki: What-?
Tubbo: I swallowed a glow stick!
Fundy, on the verge of tears: WHY WOULD YOU-

Tommy: Time to grow up!
Tommy: Dad, can you make us both PB&J sandwiches?
Tubbo: And cut the crusts off
Tommy: And cut the crusts off-
Tommy: Wait...
Tommy: Tubbo what are we doing? We’re big men! Leave the crusts on!
Tubbo: Aww man :c

Ponk, to Punz and Purpled: Guys! I specifically told you not to do that!
Purpled: Here’s the thing, we weren’t listening

Techno: WILBUR GIVE ME BACK MY SWORD
Wilbur: CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, LOSERBLADE
Tommy: Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I’m the youngest member of this family

Bad: Maybe the real treasure was the friends we made along the way
George, pointing to Dream: Also this rat we found

Quackity: My main reasons for doing things are:
Quackity: Spite
Quackity: The aesthetic
Quackity: And that’s it
Quackity:
Quackity: Okay, I lied
Quackity: Attention

Chapter Text

Techno wakes up this morning with a groan, blinking dazedly up at his ceiling, content to listen to Wilbur’s quiet snoring on the other side of the room. Warm sunlight poke through the thin, white curtains gently, showering him in golden rays.

Another lazy blink at the ceiling, which is popcorn-tiled, has Techno rubbing his eyes. He rubs them hard enough to see the spinning colors, which he let disappear before he sits up in his bed slowly. It is quiet in the apartment, and if Techno listens closely enough, he can tell it’s pretty noiseless throughout the complex.

Nudging his thick comforter from his legs- which he only uses in winter, using a thin duvet during the warmer seasons- Techno stands, wobbling, from his bed.

The town they live in is relatively poor, not what one would consider high-class. But at least, Techno thinks, they get heating in their apartments. He shuffles on his pig slippers, and he shambles his way to the kitchen like an old man- which he is not, that is Mr. Philza Minecraft.

Sleep pokes at him, still, so Techno slumps in his seat as soon as he’s at the dining table. Phil, like usual, is already wide awake, smiling and making coffee. He laughs lightly at Techno’s tired form, and grabs another coffee mug from the cupboard.

“Two sugars this time, Tech?” Phil asks, smiling teasingly at him. Techno glares jokingly at him, “Three.” He retorts.

Another laugh escapes his dad, which pulls Techno’s lips into a small, pleased smile.

They fall into a comfortable silence that Techno enjoys. Phil and Techno never really were awkward. It was always pleasant around Phil- he, unlike Techno’s annoyingly endearing brothers, knew when silence was wanted. Tommy couldn’t handle quiet, and it made Wilbur uncomfortable to the point of tears.

A quiet thud is right by his head, the sound of a full coffee cup being placed next to him. Techno mumbles a quiet but grateful, “Thanks,” before taking a sip. It tastes good, not sweet but not bitter. Techno takes another sip as he watches Phil scroll through his phone.

“Your hair is looking better, healthier.” Phil comments, glancing up at him quickly. Techno runs a hand through the locks self-consciously. He’d had to stop dying it pink for a few months because it got really unhealthy and dry.

He nods a little, taking another sip of his coffee. “‘M thinking of dying it again today. Bought some dye and hair bleach last week.” He says.
Phil nods, downing the rest of his mug before answering, “Sure. Do you want me to help? You might have to wait until tonight, though, I don’t get off ‘till six.” He offers.

Shrugging, Techno plays with a long piece of hair behind his ear. “Nah. I was wanting to do it early today so it gets the chance to settle a little before Monday.” He says. Phil nods, and presses a kiss to Techno’s temple lovingly before walking into his bedroom.

By the time Phil is gone, Tommy has already scampered to Tubbo’s apartment to rope him into some prank Techno will probably have to pull them out of later, and Wilbur left with Schlatt for the mall. Techno, once again, has the entire apartment to himself. He knows if either of his brothers were alone in the house, they’d probably freak, but Techno just lazes on the couch.

For a few minutes, he scrolls through Twitter, before he lets his phone drop onto his chest, relaxing into the cushions. Techno looks over everything in his view. The remote, laying crooked on the table, the standing lamp next to the TV, lampshade stained from the one time Phil allowed them to paint in the living room when Wilbur and Techno were 8 and 9, respectively.

He stands up slowly, stretching with a slight groan. Techno walks through the apartment, picking up Tommy’s abandoned toys and Wilbur’s left out sheet music. He puts the clutter in their rooms, and goes to the bathroom.

Like usual, the bathroom is a mess of hair care bottles and Body&Body Works products. Techno ignores these, however, and opens the cabinet under the sink to grab his pink hair dye and bleach. He puts then on the sink counter, and searches for a dye brush.

Grabbing a Sally’s bag under the sink, he searches through it. Techno was sure he’d bought a new dye brush, the only question was where it was.

“What the fuck.” He whispers furiously to himself, dropping the bag on the floor. He glares at the hair dye and bleach, annoyed.

It takes him a few minutes to figure out what to do. Techno leans against the counter before he thinks of Niki- she dyes her hair, right? He can just go downstairs to the first floor and ask Niki for a dye brush, praying she has one. If she doesn’t, well, Techno might just jump out of a window.

He runs a hand through his hair anxiously as he walks out of his apartment. Techno knows no one would make fun of him for his hair- because they either fear him or just don’t care- but he doesn’t like the brown. His comfort zone, oddly enough, is the pink hair.

The walk to Niki’s apartment is quick, though Techno is slightly winded after walking down two sets of stairs. They don’t have an elevator in this building, and Techno hates it so, so much.

Techno fiddles with one hand as he knocks on the Underscore’s apartment door. Logically, he knows he shouldn’t be nervous. Techno is pretty decent friends with Niki because of Wilbur, and the girl is weirdly really sweet, so it’s not like she’ll judge him, aloud, at least.

Thankfully, Niki opens the door, looking confused before smiling softly at him in greeting. “Hey, Techno, are you here to get Tommy?” She asks, looking behind her shoulder for a moment.

He shakes his head, “No, I just wanted to know if you had any hair dye brushes? I’m trying to dye my hair.” He mumbles, nervously fiddling with his pocket. He knows he shouldn’t be nervous, but he can’t help feeling like Niki is going to laugh at him.

“Oh! I was just about to dye my hair, too! Can I join you?” She asks, brightening. Techno blinks intelligently at her, then nods, internally smacking himself, why did he do that?

Niki claps happily, “Yay! I’ll go grab my stuff!” She says, leaving him in the doorway.

Looking into the apartment, Techno watches as Tubbo and Tommy come into view. They are carrying a wooden plank. He stares in bewilderment as they walk into the kitchen. The two ignore his existence, or might not have realized he was there. Either way, Techno doesn’t even wanna know.

There is a few more moments of Techno waiting before Niki comes back into view, holding an old Walmart bag full of hair dye and products. “So, how long have you been dying your hair?” Niki asks as they start up the stairs.

“Since I was 12. Wanted to change it, and a girl I went to summer camp with had pink dye. When I came back Phil almost fainted when he first saw me.” Techno explains. Camp New Moon had been an experience, to say the least, and Phil had never let Techno go back, terrified he’d come back with a shaved head or something.

Niki lets out a giggling laugh, eyes creasing at the edges. “Really? I just begged Eret to dye my hair for my fourteenth birthday.” She says as they near the third floor.

Shrugging, Techno pushes his apartment door open gently, allowing both of them to walk inside. He shuts the door behind her just as quietly, not wanting to break the peaceful aura of the apartment. Niki drops her Walmart bag on the armrest of the couch, and pulls out a ziplock bag, full of delicious looking chocolate chip cookies.

She opens it, and offers him one with a knowing smile. “Here! I made them yesterday, because I was really stressed out for the holidays,” She flushes a little. Techno grabs it out of her hand, and takes a bite. It is pleasantly not squishy nor hard to chew, perfectly made.

Techno hums appreciatively, “These are delicious. I’d give you my newborn for these cookies.” He says, looking back over at her.
Niki laughs, shaking her head, “I just do it on the side. Do you want to dye your hair first?” She asks, grabbing a box, called ‘Smokey Pink’, and shaking it slightly to emphasize her point. Techno nods, walking toward the bathroom.

Footsteps follow him, the quiet noise of a ruffling bag as Niki walk behinds him. When they get to the bathroom, Techno opens his own ‘Dye With A Cause’ Frosé pink hair dye box.

“Does that work really well?” Niki asks, looking over at the dye bottle.

Techno shrugs, “It lasts a good month or two, and apparently it’s supposed to be good for your hair.” He says, popping open the bottle and grabbing the dye bowl to mix it in with the developer.

Humming, Niki grabs one of her dye brushes from her bag and handing it to him. “"Why do you have so much bleach?" She asks, looking over the multiple bleach bottles with widened eyes.

"It's for all the murders I commit." Techno retorts, mixing the dye and developer.

"Okay. Do you want another cookie before I start?" Niki laughs a little, motioning for Techno to sit on the toilet seat so she can start.

"Ooh, yes please," Techno says, grabbing at the girl until she gave him another cookie.

As he eats the cookie, Niki starts to part his hair into different sections. “Did you have long hair when you were 12, too? I’ve never seen you with short hair.” She comments, combing her thin fingers through his hair. Techno practically melts at the soft touch, relaxing into his sitting position.

Grabbing the dye brush, Niki starts to apply the bleach mixture. It’s cold, but not completely unpleasant. He doesn’t enjoy the feeling, since it itches at his scalp. “You okay? If it hurts, tell me.” Niki says gently.

He shrugs minimally, “It’s fine for now. And I will.” He says, tacking on the last bit to keep her from worrying. She nods, and continues to rush on the bleach.

Techno falls into the familiarity of the situation. It feels like he’s right back at camp, letting Julie McElroy dye his hair while her friends put on each other’s makeup and crickets hum in the background.

“Do you want music on?” Niki asks, setting down the brush, careful to avoid getting any bleach on the sink counter.

“Sure, but if you play country I might have to kick you out of the apartment.” Techno jokes, looking over the shower curtain to avoid moving his head and ruining the bleach. He listens to Niki laugh lightly before she picks up her phone, quiet tapping sounds coming from the screen before soft, Animal Crossing music begins to play.

Techno smiles to himself, and lets out a smirky, “You’re just like Tommy.”

The girl gives a fake offended gasp, “I am not. Tommy is a gremlin.” Niki says, patiently painting the bleach on Techno’s lightening brown locks. “Ooh, you’re hair takes really well,” She hums.

***

Once the bleach was done and washed out- which was a whole mess that Techno will be scared with forever- Niki starts to put on the pink dye.

“Do you know what Tubbo and Tommy were doing earlier?” Techno asks after a few minutes of silent dying. Niki lets out an out-of-character loud laugh, nodding.

“They were building their Minecraft house in real life.” She says, giggling.

Techno furrows his brow, “What? Why?”

Niki shrugs, a small, happy smile on her face, “Their ‘hardcore gamer big men’, was Tommy’s response.”

Techno snorts, “Sure they are.”

Chapter Text

Watsons:
-Techno came to live with Phil when he was 11
-When Techno was 13, Wilbur joined them, at age 12
-Tommy quickly joined the family after Wilbur at age 10

Present Ages:
Phil - immortal idk
Techno - 18
Wilbur - 17
Tommy - 14
**I just changed these and am going to go through my chapters to make sure they are correct!

Cute HCs:
-The day after Tommy officially became a Watson, the family went to Build-A-Bear and got Tommy a Longhorn/cow bear, which is named Henry (you do not mess with Henry)
-Techno went to summer camp ages 11-12, but after he came back home with pink hair when he was 12, Phil never let him go back
-Each of the kids have comfort items:
Techno —> a bright red blanket he’s had since childhood, and a plastic crown Phil won him at an arcade when he was 11

Wilbur —> his guitar, and a really soft yellow sweater Techno bought for his birthday (he wears it when stressed)

Tommy —> previously mentioned stuffed animal Henry, and an iPod his old social worker bought for him because of panic attacks

-Phil once cried in a grocery store because some dude told him his kids were better off with their real parents; Techno punched him in the gut
-Wilbur rarely lets anyone touch his guitar, but he lets Tommy strum the chords sometimes because Tommy enjoys the noise

//TW: Mental Illnesses
Because I have mental illnesses, I commonly project onto my comfort streamers
-Techno has ADHD and selective mutism
-Wilbur has sensory problems
-Tommy has ADHD and synesthesia
I will probably never go into panic attacks or anxiety attacks because it makes me nervous and freak out and I don’t enjoy crying
\\TW: Mental Illnesses

-Phil loves his kids so much, and would do anything for them, but if one of them complain to him one more time because ‘Techno/Wilbur/Tommy threatened to throw me out a window!’ He’s going to put himself in a retirement home

Chapter Text

The days following Dream’s ‘playful’ stealing of his property, Tommy feels empty.

He can feel every second pass by during class. Sometimes his classes get too loud, and Tommy’s hand instinctively goes to his back pocket to grab his iPod and headphones, desperate for relief.

Every time he doesn’t feel the small item, Tommy feels like he’s dying. Tubbo tries to distract him during lunch and the class they have together, but he can only help so much.

Tommy is grateful for his friend. Tubbo is quiet and understanding, content to comfort Tommy while he cries into his shoulder on the bus rides home. Tommy holds Tubbo’s hand as they go home on Friday, tightening his grip a few times when the confined space get too loud. Tubbo always squeezes back, a comforting presence Tommy appreciates.

When they walk to the complex, the entire complex scatters to their apartments.

After Tubbo goes into his apartment with Niki, Eret, and Fundy, Tommy feels like he’s dying as he joins Wilbur and Techno on their way to third floor. Tommy glances at his brothers, looking at their happy dispositions; they’re laughing at a joke Wilbur made, trading grins.

Silence is oddly suffocating. Deafening. Tommy can remember the days of old foster homes that locked him in closet, the silence that left him shaking and trembling with fear. He’d been so afraid of losing himself in the quiet that the only thing that kept him from going crazy was his little iPod.

It was another reason he was so loud and constantly talking. If he didn’t, he felt like he would die.

After coming home from school, after again dealing with Dream, Sapnap, and George taunting him with his iPod, Tommy breaks down right in front of the front door.

Wilbur and Techno are quick to turn around at his first sob, and Tommy watches with blurry eyes as they drop their bags before coming closer to him. “Toms?” Wilbur asks softly, leaning down slightly to meet him at eye level.

A gasp escapes Tommy to try and get air in his lungs. He falls forward into Wilbur’s arms, who glances over at Techno worriedly. He picks Tommy up like he would a young crying child. “Baby?” Wilbur asks, cooing softly at the younger boy.

Another sob shakes through Tommy, and he buries his face in his older brother’s junction of neck and shoulder. “Tommy, what’s wrong?” Techno asks softly, coming closer to rub Tommy’s back comfortingly.

Shaking, Tommy pulls back, tears cascading out of bloodshot eyes down his cheeks, which were flushed. “Baby, what happened?” Wilbur murmured, grabbing and holding onto Tommy’s hand. Tommy shakes his head, a shuddering gasp escaping him.

“D-Dream took-k my iPod, and it’s s-so quiet, a-and-” Another sob cut Tommy off, and the boy buries himself in Wilbur’s chest again.

Wilbur and Techno feel guilt coarse through their veins. Tommy had told them about this, a few weeks ago. They had laughed it off, thinking nothing of the ‘playful teasing’. But along with the guilt, rage curled in their guts. How dare Dream do this to their younger brother?

Swearing to murder the other boy, Techno curls his hand into a fist. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Do you wanna watch Up?” Wilbur asks, much better at controlling the anger in his voice than Techno.

Their younger brother looks so much smaller than he is. Tommy looks like he’s 7 years old again, and is so scared about being thrown out. He nods a little, “Can we get apple juice, too?” He asks, glancing between his big brothers.

Wilbur melts, feeling his older-brother instinct go into overdrive. “Of course, Toms. Lets go get you apple juice, and then we can go put Up on.” He says, setting the boy down and letting Tommy drag him to the kitchen. Techno drags himself behind them, and lets his rage show proudly on his face.

Quickly, Wilbur pours his little brother a plastic cup full of apple juice. Tommy grins at him, “Thanks, Wilby,” He says, grabbing the cup and starting toward the couch.

“Wilbur.” Techno says, voice low and threatening, anger simmering under his skin. “I’m going to kill that fucking bastard,” He growls, making sure to be quiet as to not gain Tommy’s attention. He was so angry, it almost makes Techno feel silly.

His brother nods, letting his own face morph with rage, “If you don’t, I will,” He says, before smoothing his expression out and looking over toward the living room.

“Wilbur,” Tommy calls, cuddled in a wrap of blankets on the couch, “Turn on the movie!” He whines.

A laugh escapes Wilbur, and he walks into the living room, nodding teasingly. “Okay, okay. You little gremlin.” He says, leaning down to grab the remote and click on Disney+.

Tommy sticks his tongue out at his brother, tears forgotten. Techno lets himself relax a little bit, still seething with anger, but trying not to frighten his brother. It would do him no good to have Tommy freak out again because Techno couldn’t relax.

“I’m going out,” He says, forcing his tone to be monotone and emotionless. Wilbur glances at him knowingly, but nods, accepting it. Tommy, however, looks over at him in confusion.

“Why?” Tommy asks as the movie starts.

Techno shrugs, “Just have something to do. Won’t be gone long, don’t worry,” He reassures. When Tommy calms down, nodding, Techno turns toward the door and quickly leaving. Dream better hope Techno calms down by the time he makes it downstairs.

***

Spoiler Alert: He didn’t.

He rapidly knocks on the ‘Dream Team’s apartment door, glaring at the wood until his glare moves to Sapnap, who opens the door, nervously staring at Techno.

“I’m here for Dream.” He growls, unable to hide his anger anymore. Sapnap clearly hesitates, looking anxious for his friend’s wellbeing and safety. “Unless you let me in, now, I’m going to throw you across the room.” Techno sneers, popping his knuckles to show the clear promise of his words.

Sapnap quickly steps aside for Techno to let himself in. Smart move, Techno thinks, moving swiftly inside the apartment. He looks around wildly, eyes glancing frantically trying to find Dream.

“He’s,” Sapnap starts, pausing in evident fear when Techno turns to look at him, “He’s in his room,” He mumbles, pointing a shaky finger toward a door.

Nodding toward the younger boy, Techno tries to straighten his posture. Sapnap reminds him, in some ways, of Tommy- both way in over their heads, and incredibly loud despite being so young. Techno throws Dream’s bedroom door open, and watches as the other’s head snaps up to look at him.

“The fuck do you want?” Dream asks, immediately on the defensive- like he always was. When Techno and Dream were in the same room together, it was always Dream against Techno. Techno relied on his strength to get him places, and Dream had to put a little more effort into his actions with quick thoughts and speedy plans to escape perceived danger.

Dream stands from his desk chair, only slightly taller than Techno, though not as defined or muscled. Hostility is thick between the two boys, both glaring at each other. It was always a race, between the two of them, Techno remembers.

Days after school fighting, always competing in classes they shared to see who was smarter. Even when they both had perfect marks, they never stopped in their competitions.
For a moment, it is silent. Tension so heavy it would make anyone else in the room struggle to gasp for air. Techno glares at Dream. Red meets green, both eyes filled with a determination to be better than the other and an anger that lingers when they’re together.

Then, Techno swings.

Pain blooms in his knuckles as they meet Dream’s cheekbone. Dream’s head snaps to the left in one quick motion, surprise and sudden pain on his face that makes Techno’s lip twitch upward. The blond doesn’t stumble back, like others would, but instead straightens his stance and starts to aim a punch.

But Dream has to think. Think through every single possibility and outcome and any way he can escape or fight back. And for as fast as he is, Dream can’t do that in the time it takes Techno to ready his fist again and nail the other in the face again.

The beginnings of a surely painful bruise is starting to form on the other’s face, and blood starts to slowly drip down from Dream’s nose. Neither speak as Dream kicks Techno in the leg, trying to get him lower as to get a better advantage.

It doesn’t work, and Techno thinks Dream knew it wouldn’t. Risky isn’t Dream’s style- he’s all about the planning and strategizing it takes to beat someone in a fight. With any other person, Dream wins. But Techno is the better fighter.

“What the hell is your problem?” Dream asks, trying to decide whether or not he should give his all into this.

Techno hates talking during fights. He’s needs focus. Dream knows this. Techno snarls, “You think it’s funny to hurt my brother?” He asks, glaring at Dream with enough hatred in this eyes to kill a man.

Realization appears on Dream’s face, but before he can answer, Techno is kicking him in the leg. This time, it works- Dream falls to the ground with a groan when the back of his head connects to the carpeted ground with a loud thud.

He leans down to get close in Dream’s face. “Where the fuck is the iPod.” He growls.

Dream groans in pain, eyes wet, “Th-the fuc-king desk, you psy-psycho.” He spits.

Techno isn’t ashamed to admit he grins at Dream. “Thanks.” He says, standing up and walking toward the desk. There, on a stack of papers, is Tommy’s iPod. Techno frowns at the open screen- meaning Dream had been using it after he’d stolen it from Tommy.

He grabs it, startlingly gentle, and places it into his pocket. Techno looks over at Dream, looking emotionless as he stares at the blood coming from his nose and the bruises.
When Techno looks toward the door and starts walking toward it, Sapnap and George are quick to jump out of his way. “He needs an ice pack,” Techno throws over his shoulder uncaringly as he walks out of the apartment.

Chapter Text

Tommy: *drinking a coke*
Dream: It's 8 in the morning, why are you drinking pop for breakfast?
Tommy: Well, what did you have for breakfast?
Dream: ...
Tommy: I'm doing better than you

Fundy: Lemme see what you have
Tubbo: A knife :D
Fundy: No!
Niki: Oh my god why does he have a knife?

Phil: Why are you standing on the table?
Techno: I live in this house and I can do what I want and you cannot stop me-
Phil: Where's the spider
Techno: In the corner, please kill it-

Punz: The floor is lava! *jumps on the coffee table*
Tommy: *jumps on bed*
Niki: *almost knocks over a chair jumping on it*
Fundy: *slips but manages to get onto the side table*
Wilbur: *lays on the floor and accepts his fate*

Skeppy: What time do you normally go to sleep?
Techno: Whenever I collapse is purely up to God.

Bad: My food’s too hot. I can’t eat it.
Skeppy: You’re too hot but I still eat you.
Finn, slamming his hands on the table: ONE DINNER!!!!
Spifey: Here we go again-
Finn: ONE NORMAL DINNER IS ALL I ASK FOR

Quackity: sapnu puas
Sapnap: ???
Karl: what language is that?
Quackity: turn your phone 180 degrees
*Quackity was removed from the group chat*

Dream: I invited you all here because I crave the deadliest game.
Sapnap, nodding solemnly: Knife Monopoly.
Dream: ... I was actually planning to hunt you for sport but now I’m really interested in whatever Knife Monopoly is.

Tommy: I can't get Techno out of his room
Wilbur: Tell him I said something
Tommy: Like what?
Wilbur: Anything factually incorrect
[three seconds later]
Techno, bursting into the room: wHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THINK THE SUN IS A FLAT PLANET?!

Quackity: I’m gonna open a cat cafe, but I need investors.
Quackity: Here’s the plan: the first floor will have normal cats, but as you go up, each floor will have more and more dangerous cats, and at the top floor is me with a gun.

Tubbo: I'd like to offer you some friendly advice.
Tommy: I don't need your help.
Tubbo: Consider it unfriendly advice then, dipshit.

George: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you.
Dream: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule.
George: Absolutely not.

Sapnap: So, what's for dinner?
Quackity: Tonight, I'm serving looks.
Karl, on the verge of tears: Please, we haven't eaten in three days...

Dream: I have a new hoodie.
George: Wrong.
Sapnap: ‘We’ have a new hoodie.

Phil: Honestly, do any of you even remember the ABCs of first aid??
His kids:
Techno: A
Wilbur: Bone
Tommy: Coming out of the skin is very bad

Tommy, walking into the room, eyes watering and sniffling: Phil...
Phil: Oh my god Tommy, what happened! why are you crying?
Tommy: I’m not crying, my eyes are just watering from the fire I started in Quackity’s kitchen
Phil: ...
Phil: W H A T

Tubbo: I’m cold
Eret: Here, have my jacket, it’ll help
Fundy: I’m cold too
Eret, annoyed: What do you want me to do? set you on fire?

Sapnap: You need to wash your dishes!
George: You never wash yours!
Sapnap: Okay, let’s handle this with maturity
George: Rock paper scissors?
Sapnap: Obviously.

Techno: Violence is never the answer
Phil: Correct
Techno: But it’s a question
Phil: What-
Techno: And the answer is hell fuckin yes!
Phil: T E C H N O, N O!

Techno:I don’t get paid enough for this
Fundy:For what
Techno: points at Tommy, Tubbo, and Wilbur putting christmas lights around their november calendar*

Dream: George, I love you
George: haha, good joke
Dream: No, seriously, I love you
George: You got me!
Dream: George, I’m serious-
George: I. SAID. YOU. GOT. ME.

Schlatt: If you do that again, I’ll throw you out the window- what are you doing?
Quackity, looking out the window: Checking how high the drop is to see if it’s worth it

Punz: *bursts in the room looking panicked*
Ponk: Punz? What happened? Where’s Sapnap?
Punz: NOBODY DIED
Ponk: What kind of answer is that?
Purpled, rushing in: HOPEFULLY AN ACCURATE ONE

Karl: We ran out of cereal water!
Sapnap: What?
Karl: Cereal water!
Sapnap: *visible confusion*
Quackity: *sigh* He means milk

Wilbur: Okay, do you remember the plan on what to do if I get shot
Tommy: Yeah!
Wilbur: Tell me
Tommy: When you get shot, and you are falling down, I am to sing “MMM WATCHA SAY” no matter the circumstances
Wilbur, nodding: Good!

Skeppy: Techno has an opinion on shit that nobody should have opinions on
Skeppy: Hey, Techno, what’s the best multiple of 3?
Techno: 18, obviously, you moron

Niki: I only feel one emotion and it’s anger
Tommy: Last night you literally sleep-deprived-texted everyone a thousand heart emojis
Niki: Out of anger

Fundy: I’m going to bed
Tubbo: It’s noon-?
Fundy: Time isn’t real

Sapnap: Hey, Dream! How’re you doin this moring?
Dream: I haven’t felt anything since the spring of 2010
Sapnap: That’s great! Breakfast is almost ready

Tommy: Wilbur yelled at me once for trying to eat laundry detergent and it was honestly one of the scariest moments of my life

Skeppy: I’ve made a decision
Bad: Yep
Skeppy: I’m gonna go to the kitchen
Bad: Mhm
Skeppy: Open the oven
Bad: Yeah
Skeppy: And climb inside the oven
Bad:

George: God, give me patience.
Quackity: Why not strength?
George: If I’m given strength, you’ll be dead.

Wilbur: Do you think you’d ever be able to be a police dispatcher?
George: God, I don’t know... listening to people in potentially their last moments would terrifying.
Techno: Nah I just don’t like talking on the phone

Dream: Guys I got a pet snake! What should I name him?
George: Excuse me you got a what-
Sapnap: William Snakespeare

Sapnap: People say I have a unique way of lighting up a room
*a few seconds later*
Karl: WHO THE HONK SET THE COUCH ON FIRE

Dream: Get into the halloween spirit and make a ghost!
George: That’s called murder and I heard somewhere that it was illegal.

Sapnap: Do you guys think lava tastes spicy?
George: Sapnap please don’t eat lava
Dream: You do whatever you want Sapnap!
Bad: Actually lava is made of molten rock so it’d probably taste bland and dusty
Sapnap: Thank you so much Bad you understand me like no one else

*at the grocery store*
Phil: Do you want mini frozen pizzas?
Tommy: Phil, only sad, lonely depressed people eat mini frozen pizzas-
Phil: *laughs a little* oh
Tommy: Of course i’ll have a mini frozen pizza!

Chapter Text

Phil wakes up this morning with sleepy eyes and a tired grin on his face.

All his boys are gathered at the end of his bed, holding back bright smiles that are really only conveyed through bright, sparkling eyes that makes Phil’s smile gleam, even in the darkness of his bedroom.

“Hi, boys.” He says gently, gesturing for them to all sit on his bed. The way the three of them, all lanky, despite his best attempts at putting meat onto their bones, and weirdly tall, clumsily scamper up into his bed has Phil laughing.

“Happy Father’s Day!” The three yell- well, Wilbur and Tommy yell it, Techno just says it slightly more aggressively than his usual tone. But Phil appreciates the sentiment all the same, and smiles at his sons, “Aw, you guys are sweet.”

The four of them lapse into a comfortable silence. Phil has always enjoyed these types of moments; silent bliss with his loved ones. He has a feeling the three picked up on it.

Yawning, Phil casts the three another smile, this one only a little less tired. “Okay!” He says, clapping, breaking the quiet the room has found itself in, “What do you three want for breakfast?” He asks, starting to move to get out of his bed.

Only to be pushed back against his pillows by Tommy. “No! We’ll make you breakfast, Dad.” Tommy says, grinning at him. Usually when Tommy says something like that, there’s a certain expectancy of praise to his smiles. But today, there is just sincerity and love, and Phil feels his heart swell as he takes in his youngest.

Confusion, however, takes over, and he looks between the three. “What? I always make breakfast.” He says, in the back of his mind wondering if his sons even know how to turn on the stove.

Wilbur shakes his head with a fond smile, “We’ll make it today, okay? You just sit there and me and Tech will bring it in a few minutes.” He says, already pulling himself and Techno from the bed and toward the door.

Making himself comfortable against Phil as to not allow him to escape, Tommy smiles at him. Phil gives a, slightly confused, smile back. “Hey, kiddo. How’ve you been?” Phil asks, trying to fill the quiet. It’s not awkward, by any means, but Phil has been so busy with work he hasn’t really been able to just sit and talk with his kids. Guilt starts to seep in, but Phil is quickly distracted by Tommy starting in on a rant about his Physics teacher.

“-and she always gives us so much homework! It’s too hard!” Tommy gripes, a few minutes later.

Phil frowns, “Doesn’t she know about your ADHD? I thought the principle tried to get you on a plan?” He asks, genuinely a little worried. Tommy had been diagnosed with ADHD after a few months of living with Phil, and it wasn’t really a surprise to anyone except Tommy himself. He’d always been worried, with Wilbur being on the Autism spectrum and Techno and Tommy being on opposite ends of ADHD, personality wise.

Tommy shrugs, leaning back into Phil for, he’s assuming, cuddles, which Phil has no problem with fulfilling his wishes. “I think she thinks ADHD isn’t real, Dad.” Tommy says, and though it’s probably a joke, Phil furrows his brows.

“I’ll have to take with your principle about that,” He mutters, half to himself, half to Tommy. The boy doesn’t seem to care too much, nodding but obviously much more content to just keep cuddling, surrounded with feather filled pillows and comfortable blankets and the thick, winter duvet.

After a few more quiet solace minutes, Phil finally looks up at his door as it opens to reveal Techno and Wilbur, the latter looking rather sheepish. He gives them a confused look.

Rolling his eyes, Techno sighs, “Wilbur wanted to make you pancakes, like you do on our birthdays, but he forgot one very important thing,” He stops there.

Even more confused, Phil looks between them curiously. Wilbur pouts, carefully giving him a food tray Phil’d forgotten they’d even had, “I don’t know how to make pancakes,” He mutters dejectedly.

Phil laughs a little, laughing even harder when Wilbur gives him a betrayed look.

He shakes his head. “It’s okay, Wil. Thank you both,” Phil says, relaxing back onto his bed so Tommy can resume his comfortable position against Phil.

The food tray has two slices of toast, lathered generously in jelly, a side of scrambled eggs with cheese and a glass of orange juice. Phil smiles at the food, feeling warm at his son’s obvious love. He loves them so much he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if they were hurt.

“Thank you boys, so much.” He says again, if only to drive the point home.

Starting in on the eggs first, he motions to his bed again, inviting the two to sit down for the second time this morning. Wilbur beams at him as he eats, obviously waiting for approval and praise Phil wastes no time in giving him.

“It’s delicious. You could be a chef.” He says truthfully. Though the words would be more fitting for someone around the age of six or seven, Wilbur is all smiles as he bashfully explains that he didn’t know if Phil liked jelly or butter, but since Wilbur likes jelly, the teen figured Phil would, too.

Phil positively melts at his sons. “You guys are so sweet.”

Techno puts up a finger as Phil starts to sip on his orange juice. “That’s not all,” He says, voice lightening up slightly from it’s usual monotone. Phil raises a brow, but he doesn’t speak, so Techno continues quickly, “We also were going to play you something.”

Surprise fills Phil, and he looks between the three of them. All three of his sons were musically gifted, at least much more so than Phil himself, who couldn’t even play a triangle if his life depended on it.

“Aw, you guys,” He says, feeling warm and so loved it almost makes Phil burst into tears.

Taking his tray, Tommy places it on his nightstand and pulls on him, all four of them making their way to the living room, where the boys have set up their instruments and, Phil smiles, homemade sheet music. Meaning his boys made him his own song.

“I’m going to burst into tears if you guys are any sweeter. I swear to god.” He says, sitting on the couch and getting comfortable as the three start to position themselves for their instruments.

His words get light laughs from all three of them, and Tommy cheekily hands him the box of tissues they keep on the couch’s side table. Phil playfully glares at his youngest son as he sits on his small keyboard’s stool.

The room goes quiet for a few seconds before Wilbur starts to strum the strings of his guitar, and Techno and Tommy take that as their cue to start playing their own instruments.

It’s quickly pulled together, and Phil actually gets a little teary eyed. Techno weaves his bow across the violin strings beautifully, Tommy presses on the keys with so much skill Phil marvels at it, and Wilbur strokes his fingers across the strings of his guitar to make the whole instrumental song sound like one of the prettiest things Phil’s ever heard.

He daps his eyes with a tissue, and gives the three a bright smile.

Chapter Text

“I just- I just don’t understand, Tommy!” Phil yells as he drives Tommy home. He’d had to pick his youngest son up early from school because he’d gotten in a fight. It was the second one this month.

Tommy stays silent, staring out the passenger’s side window, trying to ignore the way his throat tightens and his eyes burn as his dad continues to yell. “I just don’t get it! What is going on with you?” Phil asks, finally turning to look over at Tommy.

It’s better to be a barely there kid then a kid who needs attention. Tommy had learned that early in life. Tommy flinches when Phil yells, “Well?”

The small car Phil drives makes the yelling all the more suffocating, and Tommy feels like he’s dying. Still, he continues to ignore Phil and stare out the window. Not out of defiance, mind you, but unfiltered and crystal clear fear.

Phil gives an aggravated sigh, and Tommy braces himself. Phil has never hit him, Phil will never hit him, is a mantra in his head. Tommy is terrified to be proven wrong.

Finally, they pull into the apartment complex’s parking lot, and Tommy rushes to escape the tiny car that felt so much more suffocating when there was anger inside of it. His bag is grabbed and held tightly to his chest. Tommy is terrified Phil will try and take it- it wouldn’t be the first time he things were stolen as punishments. Not by Phil, or Wilbur or Techno, of course, but other fosters and group homes were much less kind.

Gripping the bag with white knuckles, Tommy rushes inside. Phil had to leave work early, and now he was going to probably be in trouble with his boss. God, Tommy ruins everything.

The inside of the complex is simple, since they don’t live in a pent house or anything. Tommy grimaces as he passes Schlatt, sitting behind the a table he’d probably brought down from his apartment.

In his scared out of his mind haze, Tommy heads for Tubbo’s place. Tubbo was sick today, so he’d stayed home. Tommy had been jealous this morning, but now all he felt was grateful.

Jamming the key into the door so hard it might as well have broken, Tommy unlocks the door. With shaky hands, Tommy opens the door to Tubbo house and, closing the front door quietly, rushes to his best friend’s room, where he can hear light coughing from inside the room.

Throwing his best friend’s door open, Tommy drops his bag and closes the door before crashing himself into Tubbo’s sickly form. It all happens in a few quick seconds, and by the time he’s comfortable Tubbo is staring at him incredulously.

“Wh-” Tubbo is cut off by a coughing fit, which Tommy winces at, “What are you doing here? Don’t you have s-” another cough, “school?”

Tommy sighs, tears beginning to prick at his eyes again. He rubs at them harshly before replying. “Got sent home early for fighting. Phil’s really mad.” He mumbles, sounding and feeling childish but too worried to really care.

With his own, slightly more breathless, sigh, Tubbo tucks Tommy’s face into the crook of where his shoulder and neck meet. Tommy immediately relaxes, breathing deeply and relaxing in his best friend’s embrace. Tubbo always knew how to make him feel better, even if Tommy was having the worst day of his life, Tubbo would be able to make him smile and laugh.

“Oh, Toms,” Tubbo murmurs quietly, voice sounding sick and croaky. “It’s okay. Phil’s probably just frustrated. It’ll be okay.” He reassures, and for some reason, Tommy believes him.

***

They sat there for Tommy doesn’t know how long before both of them fall asleep in each other’s embraces. Tommy knows Tubbo fell asleep first, remembering hearing and feeling the older boy’s breathing slow and even out, but he doesn’t really remember much after that.

But the two wake up to Tubbo’s door swinging out.

It reveals Eret, who immediately relaxes like he just had the best stress reliever ever. Tommy and Tubbo stare at Tubbo’s older brother for a few moments as the older teen takes out his phone and hurriedly texts someone.

Tommy’s brows furrow, “Eret? What are you doing?” He asks, not really concerned but also ready to start moving at a moment’s notice if he needed to.

Sighing, Eret stuffs his phone back into his pocket. He looks over at them, “Phil was worried sick about you, Tommy. It’s six pm, and Wilbur and Techno were with the Dream Team, and you were no where to be found.” Eret reprimands him lightly. Tommy flushes a little, and untangles himself from Tubbo.

“Oh.” Tommy mumbles, sitting up on the bed.

Eret rubs a hand down their face, and nods, “Yeah ‘oh’. I just texted Phil, you should probably go upstairs, dude.” He says, picking up Tommy’s bag, still left right next to the door, and hands it to the blond as he rushes to leave.

Tommy waves at Tubbo, “Bye Tubs!” He yells, trying to ignore the nervousness swirling in his stomach as he leaves the apartment.

The nervousness turns quickly into straight up nausea as Tommy walks up the first set up stairs. He’d caused so much trouble today. Tommy grips his back pack straps so hard his knuckles bleed a pale white as he continues to walk up the stairs.

Finally, he makes it to the third floor and reaches his apartment door. Wilbur and Techno are still out with the Dream Team. Perfect timing for Phil to hit him, or at least scream abuse at him until the dark hours of the night. Tommy flinches at the thought, and nervously opens the front door, the anxious induced urge to puke up his lunch strong.

He looks around nervously, before Tommy is pulled into a warm hug from Phil, who lets out a relieved sigh that sounds more like a sob than anything.

“Dad?” Tommy asks softly, wrapping his arms around his dad. This was a good sign, Tommy thinks. Maybe Phil isn’t made anymore.

Another relieved sigh/sob, and Phil pulls back, only a little, to look at him in the eyes. “Oh my god, Toms, I was so worried. I didn’t know where’d you gone, and I was so scared you ran away or something. Tommy, I’m so sorry I freaked out on you like that.” Phil rambles, the last sentence sending Tommy into a frenzy.

Tommy shakes his head a little, “It’s okay.” He murmurs, ducking back to bury himself into his father’s chest. It’s warm and comforting there.

Chapter Text

Techno feels a frown tug at his lips as he stares at Quackity, who’s ‘cornered’ him in the top floor hallway of the apartment. He’s much taller and bigger then Quackity, and they both know it, but Techno decides to humor the shorter boy by raising a brow.

“What do you want?” He says, voice deep and monotone. Techno doesn’t care enough to make his voice have different inflictions.

The boy smirks up at him, and Techno feels slightly smug as he takes in how far Quackity has to tilt his head. “We’re fighting after school,” He says, looking much more confident than he really should be.

Techno adjusts his grip on his books, and walks past the other, intent to just go to library. Wilbur and Tommy are getting ready for school, and Techno would enjoy not having to deal with them this early in the morning.

“No, we’re not.” He says simply.

Sputtering, Quackity puts his hand on Techno’s shoulder, not stopping him from walking but annoying Techno into stopping mid step and looking over his shoulder at him in cold, simmering anger.

Defiantly, Quackity keeps eye contact. “Yes, we are.”

Techno moves his shoulder out from under Quackity’s hand, and clenches his jaw. Quackity rarely got under his skin, unaffected after living with Wilbur and Tommy for years. But he was feeling the beginnings of a headache starting to set in, and he just wants to go to the library.

“Leave. Me. Alone.” Techno sneers, causing the smaller boy to take a step back.

Still, Quackity shakes his head, though looks a little less insistent as he looks up at the pink haired boy. “Dude, let’s just fight after school. In Prime Park, near the path.” Quackity says stubbornly.

Sighing, Techno gives him a pointed look, “Why do you even wanna fight?” He asks.

Puffing his cheeks, as if to stall, Quackity shrugs. “I just want to. Plus, gotta show Sap and Karl how strong I am, right?” He asks, laughing loudly in the quiet hallway.

Techno rolls his eyes, and turns to walk away. “Fine. Whatever.” He says, ignoring Quackity’s excited sputtering of ‘really?!’ and cheers. He walks down the stairs, jumping from floor to floor before he finally exits the building.

Time to go read war strategy books.

***

Licking his lips, Techno is trailed on the walk to the Prime Park by his brothers. Tommy and Wilbur flapped their lips non stop, talking between each other and to him, though Technno pointedly ignores them both. “I can’t believe Quackity got you to fight him! I heard Sapnap and Karl worrying about it during lunch. Don’t hit him too hard, big man!” Tommy rambles, cackling.

Finally, the three brothers make it to Prime Park, getting to the path and looking around for Quackity. Techno spots the Hispanic boy a little ways away, laughing and joking with Sapnap and Karl.

Techno ignores his brothers and silently makes his way over to the trio. Wilbur and Tommy catch up with him quickly, shouting and yelling enough to catch the attention of Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl.

Immediately, the light mood is cut. Tension fills the air so thickly that Techno wants to just walk away so he could breathe. “Technoblade.” Quackity greets, tone weirdly smooth.

Contrastingly, Techno’s voice is gruff and deep, rough as he speaks, “Quackity.” He nods his head a little, taking in the shorter man. Quackity’s beanie hat is still on, thick jacket encasing his torso to protect him against the winter’s chill. “Can we just get this over with?” Techno asks.

Technoblade doesn't really wanna fite the beanie-wearing gremlin that reminds him way too much of Tommy. But, here he is.

"Are you scared, Techno? Are you?" Quackity shouts at him, backed up with his two nervous looking boyfriends, who are both ready to drag a beat up Quackity home after this, Techno thinks.

Rolling his eyes, Technoblade goes into a defensive stance. Usually, Quackity's god awful stance and fist position would warrant a comment or jeer, but Techno really just wants to go home and eat ramen noodles.

Wilbur and Tommy are snickering and speaking quietly behind him, and Techno sets his jaw as he watches Karl and Sapnap glance nervously between Techno and Quackity.

“God, I’m so hungry.” Techno mutters to himself, taking a tired swing at the other.