Work Text:
Tommy shifted on the wooden bench, leaning forward.
His forearms rested on his knees, and his head hung down, towards the worn grass between his feet, and his fingers curled tight around a lukewarm cup of coffee.
There were three or four hours until the sun rose, until the day of destruction promised by Dream began.
Tommy had tried to sleep. And he did, a bit—just restlessly, alone, and disorientedly waking up every thirty minutes.
So he’d sat there, pulled himself out of his too-warm sheets, started his coffee machine(brushing the dust off of it in the process), and came out to sit in the chilly, silent night.
He tilted his head to the sky to down the remainder of the bitter liquid.
He kept the empy mug loose in his hands and kept his eyes on the cloudy, starless black.
Footsteps on the path sounded. Tommy startled and twisted around, half-expecting to see Connor lurking in the grass.
Instead, a small figure with a head of pale blond hair stood stock-still.
Tommy released the air in his lungs by increments, as if doing so too fast would startle Tubbo off like a deer.
“Scared me there, big man,” Tommy decided to mutter and turned around.
He didn’t move as Tubbo’s footsteps started again, making the grass rustle.
“Sorry,” Tubbo whispered. He cleared his throat, saying louder, “Can I sit?”
Tommy didn’t look at him and scooted over, wordlessly motioning to the now-empty spot.
“Um,” Tommy intelligently started. “Want any coffee? I have some made. Leftovers.” He uselessly waved the mug’s weight in his hands, then jabbed a thumb in his house’s direction.
Tubbo said, “Sure. Thank you.”
Tommy stood too quickly, nodded, caught Tubbo’s polite smile, and walked back with his toes scuffing the ground.
He busied himself fairly easily with pulling a clean mug out and pouring.
(Coffee was certainly a luxury he’d taken for granted, as he found once he left obsidian walls behind. Techno(Technoblade, his thoughts grimaced) had some coffee grounds, but not much; it was the one thing the guy wasn’t rich with, truly a shame.)
He eyed his ender chest.
(He could show Tubbo his new discs, maybe.
He shook his head.
Not now.)
He carefully carried a full mug back, only to find Tubbo with a blanket draped on his lap and a blanket folded neatly in Tommy’s spot.
When Tommy rose an eyebrow as he handed the mug off, Tubbo sheepishly smiled. “I come here at night quite a bit.” He pointed to an uncovered chest to his left, dirt packed around its sides. “Made a little stash.”
Tommy nodded, itching for something unregrettable to say.
But his only thought was that he and Tubbo used to share a single, fluffy blanket on nights like these, shoulders pressed tight together to fend off the cold and everything else bad in the world.
Tommy opted to sit back down and pull the blanket over his legs, staring straight ahead to the inky landscape.
A jukebox sat in the corner of his vision.
Earlier that day(well, yesterday technically), they’d mutually decided to talk today.
And it looked like they were choosing to put it off even more, seeing that Tubbo kept avoiding Tommy’s glances only to sip at his coffee.
Tommy was okay with that. They would talk, because they really needed to. But now was not the time; neither had prepared, really.
(Tubbo looked so tired, with his loose green sweater and black sweatpants and droopy eyes.
Tommy was so tired.)
They sat in silence a little longer, further relaxing into the seats.
Tommy waited until Tubbo finished the last of his coffee to say: “You want to stay over for the rest of the night? So you don’t have to walk back and everything.”
Tubbo gave a non-committal hum. Then he nodded and asked, “My bed’s still there?”
Tommy jerkily nodded, then stood.
They made it to Tommy’s bedroom, greeted with the sight of two individual beds pushed close together, one slept in, the other made.
Tubbo didn’t give Tommy a single chance to try to move the beds apart for more distance, opting to sit down and begin kicking his shoes off.
The process of lying down was finally finished, so Tommy laid there with his back on the mattress, willing the stiffness in his spine to melt away.
Fingers brushed his hand limp at his side.
He turned his head to look at Tubbo, whose eyes were closed, body was turned and curled his direction, and hand was open in an invitation.
Tommy interlaced their fingers loosely together and released a breath.
It took a bit of time, but when he fell asleep, it was with a comforting weight in his palm.