Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He scrunched his face up, staring at the monitor in front of him. He watched as the other players ran through the area; completing their tasks. 

His avatar floated nearby, sitting in mid air. He complained to chat again.

"I can't believe Tubbo got me. First round too!" 

The chat was flooded with notes of sympathy, some saying Tubbo felt sorry, others planning ways to enact revenge the next time he got impostor. 

The game ended. They didn't even fucking win in the end. 

How disappointing.

"Nice job Tubbo", Wilbur chimed in,"we got 'em that time."

"Yeah, would have rather you didn't kill me first round next time though. Good job though." Despite his annoyance he was still pleased with his stream. They had hopped through different games and servers. Starting with small renovations in Snowchester, moving to a few rounds of Jackbox, and finishing with a couple games of Among Us.

"I think I'm gonna head out guys. College tomorrow and all." He sighed, despite his flourishing career as a streamer, he was still forced into the daily monotonies of life. One of which was school. The bane of every child's existence.

His parents said he couldn't drop out, some shit about it being illegal and that the police will come find us. He honestly didn't pay attention.

"Alright, I think I'll keep streaming a bit longer, some of us do have to pay taxes after all." Wilbur, with his reminders that he is in fact the oldest out of the three.

"That is the only big man thing I am not looking forward to." He laughed. Almost forgetting gis listening stream.

He turned back to them.

"Alright guys! I'm gonna send you over to Wil for a raid, he's streaming a bit longer, 'cos he has to pay taxes 'n shit."

"I'm gonna head out too." Tubbo chimed in, "I have college tomorrow as well. Sleep well Wil, Tommy."

"Night Tubbo."

"Sleep well. Don't sleep in!"

He ended his stream, stretching his arms above his head. Trying to remove a niggling pain from the past few days. It was probably just his posture. It was almost a running joke now about how bad his posture is. 

He stretched once more then gave up on releasing the tension. He resigned himself to a sore back and shoulders for college. 

He traipsed down to his kitchen. His parents are long asleep, practically dead to the world. He checked the clock.

12am. Seems his stream ran over a bit. Still, he's gonna get a solid, six? Hours of sleep. That's enough. He'd just need to make sure to grab something to energise him for the day.

Finishing his glass of water, he trudged back up the stairs and went through the motions of getting ready for bed.

He set his alarm on his phone, making sure to give himself enough time to catch his bus.

He turned his phone off, forgoing his usual routine of scrolling social media aimlessly, retweeting and liking things he sees.

He closes his eyes and allows the darkness to wash over. Like waves on a beach, moving in and out with the tide, slowly lulling him to sleep.

...

He opened his eyes with a gasp. Muffled by his pillow. He had rolled over during the night, lying now on his front instead of on his side. 

He blearily glared at his clock. Squinting to see the red numbers slightly illuminating the dark of his room.

3.45 am, so barely any sleep. He rolled over onto his side, set on falling back asleep. He could already feel he claws sinking into him dragging him back under. As he did so he realised his upper back had lessened in pain.

He thanked whatever it was that had lessened his suffering, and focused on sleeping.

In doing so he ignored the faint brush of something against his back. Dismissing it as some of his duvet.

Pulling it tighter around him, he drifted back off to sleep.

...

His alarm blared at him from his side table, jerking him into the land of the living.

He shot up, unceremoniously topping onto his floor. 

A resounding thud echoed through his room, and probably into the kitchen below.

"Tom?", his mother shouted, "you alright up there?"

"Fine mum! The stupid alarm startled me again!"

"Okay", his mother's voice was quieter, "come down soon, your bus will be leaving in a bit." 

He jumped up and went around readying himself for the day, he packed his bag, brushed his teeth, double then triple checked he had all his books and textbooks ready.

He turned to his wardrobe, opening his door and reaching for a pair of jeans and one of his signature red and white shirts. He tugged his trousers on and pulled his shirt over his head, pulling it down further, it got caught on something.

Dismissing it, he pulled it down further, brushing it off as something else caught on his back. When the resistance continued he twisted his head round as best he could, still holding his shirt awkwardly, halfway through pulling it down.

He froze.

His arms dropped back down, letting the shirt rest limply on his shoulders, just above his shoulder blades.

Poking out just underneath both shoulder blades, was a small, feathered pair of wings.

Fucking wings.

He glanced from his hands, half-raised, to the wings, his wings. And back.

Now, Tommy had studied the human body. How else would he have passed basic science. He knew for a fact, that humans, did not infact, randomly sprout wings out of fucking nowhere.

This is not happening. This is not real. I am asleep. This is all just a wacky dream.

The mantra beat itself into a pattern against the inside of his skull.

"TOM! You're going to be late! Hurry up!"

Oh shit.  His mum.

"I'll be right there, mum!"

He hastily grabbed one of his larger hoodies. Manoeuvring the small wings, again, weird as fuck, but moving on; he has class today for god's sake, he slipped the shirt over his head, followed by the hoodie.

He hoped it covered the small feathery annoyances, also known as wings, on his back.

He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, reconsidered all his life choices and carried it down on his arm.

"Finally Tom. Here, take this, you have no time to eat at home now, thanks to whatever you were doing upstairs."

"Sorry mum."

"Don't feel bad for me. I'm not the one who's going to have to run to the bus stop. Now go"

"Love you mum. See you later."

"See you later Tom, I love you. Now go!"

She laughed after him,seemingly finding humor in his suffering.

He booked it towards his local bus stop, praying that his bus would be late. He slowed to a stop and glanced around. Noticing a few, college-aged, students lingering around he assumed the best. Celebrating internally he grinned. 

The bus pulled up, a few minutes late. He boarded and showed the driver his student pass, whatever the fuck he used now. He got a nod in return and headed to his usual seat. 

Leaning back against the chairs was ill advised on good days, so he refrained from letting his back touch the seat.

Leaning forward instead he pulled out his phone and hunched over it,playing into the stereotype of his generation.

He pulled Google up and opened the search bar. He typed in one word 

Birds.

Clicking the wikipedia link, one of his favourite websites, saved him multiple times during school.

Scrolling through the thorough and complexly worded article he got one idea. Birds were extremely complicated. Closing that tab he opened another and typed in this time.

Birds BBC Bitesize

A science teachers favourite website, predominantly biology teachers. He has no qualms against wikipedia, except that it is 7am on a Thursday morning and that article was written by a real smart geezer.

BBC Bitesize, however, is for children, and children are stupid. Meaning this information was going to be stupidly easy to understand.

Classification was the first option that appeared on his screen so he clicked the link, curious to what information it might reveal.

The only way a living creature is a bird is if it has a beak, feathers and lungs.

That last one made him laugh, getting a few weird looks from those around him.

If a thing hasn't got lungs, it isn't an animal, it's a cell or some shit.

Looking for another option he looked up, jolting as the bus brakes to a stop. His stop.

Oh shit.

That seems to be his thought of the day. He leaps up, grabbing his bag and making sure to reposition his hoodie. In fear of what someone else might see.

He focuses on the wings, and thinks of pressing them to his back.

This obviously works as he feels a pressure begin to be sustained on his upper back, from feathers and muscle lying taut against it.

He walks off the bus, thanking the driver as he goes. It's basic decency.

He gazes up at the relatively large building ahead, and walks in. Despite only being there once a week he is intimately familiar with the labyrinth that is the hallways of the place. Weaving between people he makes his way to his first of three classes of the day.

He sits down in the back. Early, as always.

And pulls his phone out, taking his time to view social media as he missed out on it the previous night.

He likes a few theories on where the current storyline is going for the Dream SMP, all interesting, but none completely encapsulating the whole of the plot to come.

…

He makes his way towards the cafeteria l at the centre of the building.

Glancing behind himself every now and again. Checking for anybody who might want to bother him as he grabs some food.

His eyes are drawn towards two figures eyeing him up.

He glances around for anywhere else to go.

Too late.

"How you doin' Tommy-boy? Have fun with your internet friends on your cute little minecraft server?" The first one sneered.

The second one looked at him as he opened his mouth, but got cut off by the first one. He's obviously more chatty.

"Gwt any, interesting", he waggles his eyebrows, "donations recently?"

First off, ew. Second of all, why does he know this much about my streams? 

"For a person making fun of me for the things I do, you sure know a lot about it." He retorted.

The first dude widened his eyes. For all Tommy's height, this boy had more build than him. He may almost always have the advantage of height, most of the time the others are stronger. Probably comes from leaving the house regularly.

The first boy shrugs his shoulders, turns to his buddy and leaves.

The second one stares after him for a second, recognising the anger radiating off of his friend. Looks back at him, then scurries after his friend.

…

He trudges from the bus stop back home, shivering in the cold.

He thought the hoodie would keep him warm enough, but the British weather outdid itself again, dropping the temperatures below 5.

He pushes the door open and revels in the heat that blasts him in the face. He slowly regains feeling in his hands and feet as he shucks off his shoes.

Slipping quietly upstairs he resolves to do his homework, them figure out what the fuck he is doing with a pair of wings on his back.

He slumped at his desk, reading through his notes and glancing up at his essay, making sure that his facts are right and that the essay makes sense.

With his proofreading done, he emails it to his professor,prefacing it with what the email is for and what class he belongs to.

Leaning back in gis chair with a sigh, he almost forgot about his extra limbs. Until he pressed them against the back of the chair too hard. 

Shooting forwards to prevent anymore pain, he stands up and walks out of his room into the bathroom.

Locking the door behind him, he pulls off his hoodie and shirt, revealing the wings.

The wings that this morning, he could have sworn were half that size.

The wings that were now, in fact, double the size of the ones from before. The almost reached his mid-back at this point.

He moved one, it responding to his will,confirming that it was actually a part of him, connected to his nervous system and all that shit.

He pulled it around to his face, stretching it to reach that far. He took note of the patterns that flowed across each wing, unable to identify what breed of bird it was.

That was more Tubbo's thing, not his.

Admiring the sleek build of his wings, showing off the muscle, bone and sinew that rested under the thin layer of feathers and skin.

He flexed it, eyes widening as the feathers spread out. 

This was so fucking cool.

Chapter Text

He walked back to his room, mildly contemplating his existence along the way.

As he returned to his desk chair he realised that he wouldn't be able to casually lean back in it, stream or not, it would hurt his wings and he couldn't risk others thinking something was wrong.

Resigning himself to his fate he slumps forward, pulling his shoulders up as he does so.

He stares at his computer screen. The sleek matte black colour shimmering in the faint light from his overhead lamp. The computer flickers between colours, and he shakes his mouse to wake the screen up.

Blinking into life, he reads through his emails, deleting and marking them off where necessary.

He glanced down to the corner of his screen as his discord pinged, reading the message.

Hey Tommy! We're gonna be playing some Dream SMP, hop on with us?

He glanced back at the mostly complete essay, then back to the message.

Screw it, he decided.

He booted up his minecraft launcher and opened discord. Glancing through the voice channels he found the one with his friends.

He opened it up and joined the call.

"Heya guys! I'm here, and definitely not procrastinating on my essay that is due soon."

"Silly small child", he heard Wilbur remark, teasing tone evident in his voice, "small children are meant to do their work on time or else they get in trouble."

"Well," he retorted, puffing up, "I am the biggest man here so I guess that rule doesn't apply to me." He smiled, triumphant with his reply.

"Just get on the server Tommy." He did as he was told, scrolling through his list of servers until he found the one he was looking for. 

He hovered his mouse over the play, hesitated, barely, then clicked. His avatar popped into existence, right next to Tubbo's.

"Hey Tommy. You streaming?"

"Nah, maybe later though, you never know what's gonna happen."

Tubbo laughed, "what do you think is gonna happen? We blow something up? Kill Dream? As if."

Tommy snorted at the ridiculous claims of his friend.

He leant further forward, feeling the wings slightly brush against his chair back, sending tingles up his spine. Perhaps he should invest in a backless chair, it would remove the need to lean forward to reduce any chance of contact.

He moved towards Tubbo, shouting into their vc to start collecting logs. They did need to expand Snowchester afterall, it was just a few buildings so far. It needed to be as great as L'Manberg once was, in all it's not-blown-up glory.

He sighed, countless hours of work, blown up twice, finishing Wilbur's symphony for him.

A rather discordant end he must admit. It satisfied the watchers though, their shouts of glee as it blew up a second time, the structures of obsidian above, looming, casting shadows overhead. Overshadowing the glory of the once beautiful country.

He remembered the fact that it was raining, rather poetic, it made him wonder whether dream orchestrated it so. The final act in a plethora of musical notes, bringing their symphony to a close.

He had to admit, the ending of L'Manberg was rather satisfying, despite the destruction of his country.

He placed the last log, finishing the corners of the house he was working on. He began to dig out the floor,replacing it with planks along the way. 

Tubbo came by, supplying him with more logs to continue building, then returning to destroying the forest nearby.

He began to build the walls up, admiring the swirling flakes as they danced and frolicked in the air. The graphics flickering white and black, the contrast between the snow and the night.

He paused for a moment, moving his avatar's vision upwards, counting how high he had built it so far.

He was distracted by the ping from the call, notifying everyone someone had joined their call.

"Hi guys." Phil's quiet greeting was heard loudly in the near silence of their call. The only other noise before had been the rustling of some food packet or another.

"Hello Mr. Minecraft." Tubbo chimed in, returning Phil's greeting.

Tommy quickly greeted him then focused back on the task at hand, resolving to finish this building before stopping for the day.

…

He placed the final stair for the roof and interrupted the current conversation, announcing, "I'm gonna stick around in the vc but I'll be finishing my essay."

He got a round of confirmations from the others there.

Closing minecraft down he pulled his document up on his screen. He settled into his zone of focus. His concentration solely on the blinking cursor in front of him and the black and white lines of text.

He typed at a rapid pace, infrequently stopping to edit typos and phrasing every other minute.

He occasionally glanced down to his word count, watching the numbers tick up as the minutes drag by, slow as molasses.

As the sugar-coated time dripped by, he listened passively to the conversation going on in the call. There were discussions of dates and timings. He ignored their conversation.

It was of no consequence to him.

His essay mocked him. It was one of the easiest ones he'd had all year, yet the itch of feathers on his back prevented his full focus on the project at hand.

The mocking of the essay got worse, as he sat there, hunching his shoulders over his desk, staring at the screen in front of him. He had no idea of how to connect his ideas together in the way his teacher expected him to.

He threw his head back, glancing to the ceiling and closing his eyes. Praying for inspiration to hit him.

Tiredly opening his eyes, he glances back at the screen.

He focuses back on his essay, typing resuming its monotonous clicking of the keys as he pours his thoughts on a page for his teacher to read and review.

The word count moved slowly now, going backwards and forwards, as he debated with the phrasing of words and ideas. The earlier flow he had when he began writing had deserted him, probably gone on vacation.

The ideas being placed on the page were difficult to phrase, like pulling teeth from his skull. Something he never wished to do.

He decided to re-read his essay so far, see if that would reignite his spark. Get his flow of words back. 

He was proud of the essay so far, it was of a high standard. Something he held himself to, he couldn't bear to get a low grade because he didn't put in enough work to satisfy his teachers.

He saved his work so far, then started typing his last hundred words, bringing his essay to a conclusion summing it up as if his teacher hadn't read the rest if his essay.

Not that he would blame them of course, it must be incredibly dull to read over a bunch of essays that all follow the same topic, with the same teaching, for hours on end.

It almost made him feel sorry for them, but this was not a part of his examinations so it was not necessary to be set. He felt no sympathy for this teacher.

He finished his conclusion, bringing his essay to a full stop. Saving the work, and emailing it to his teacher, he heaved a sigh and slowly brought his head down onto his desk with a dull thud.

He felt like sleeping then and there, screw the fact that it was only 6pm, he'd had a stressful day, you know, growing wings and all really takes it out of you.

"You good there mate?" Phil. He was still on a call with them. Of course.

"Yeah," he spoke into the desk, voice muffled, "just a long day and a lot of work. Remind me again why school is important?"

As Phil began rambling as to why school was essential, with the occasional addition from Wilbur, he closed his eyes, relaxing his wings down onto his back, allowing them to spread out and completely relax for the first time all day.

The brush of the feathers against his back were slightly cool, despite being under a hoodie all day, and soothing. The brush of downy feathers against his back were especially soft, with the longer feathers spreading down over his lower back.

His eyes shot open.

Lower back?

Last he checked, only 3 hours ago, they only reached his mid-back. Meaning, that in the span of two hours they had grown another few inches, at least.

Tubbo's voice shook him out of his thoughts.

"Is anyone up to meeting up somewhere?"

This sparked interest in Tommy. He would love to go see his friends, all of them together. That would be pretty cool

"Yeah big man, I can probably meet up sometime in the near future. My parents don't really care." His voice displayed none of his excitement at the prospect.

With Wil and Phil both deciding that they could spare a few days to meet up,  they began planning.

He zoned out slightly, bringing his hand up to his back, sliding under his hoodie, to feel the wing. He rubbed one feather between his forefinger and thumb. 

Moving slightly further up the wing he became fully engrossed in feeling his wings. They fascinated him. How does a person just straight up grow a pair of wings?

"Tommy?"

"I'm paying attention, one hundred percent. I know what is going on. Definitely."

He heard a few chuckles over the line. So much for his lying skills then.

"I said I wouldn't mind housing you and Tubbo for your trip to Brighton. If that's okay with you of course?"

Staying in Wilbur's house? With Tubbo? That would be cool.

"Sounds great Big W. When are we going again?"

"Well, if you had been listening," Wilbur remarked snarkily, beginning to explain the intricacies of their meetup.

Tommy checked over the trains to Brighton as he explained. Checking for availability and buying a ticket  in advance, to ensure a ticket.

He didn't want to miss it after all.

"Alright, I'm all ready to see you guys on Saturday. Everyone else?"

He received confirmation.

Glancing at the clock he decided to get an early night.

Bidding everyone goodbye, he signed off for the night.

Heading for the bathroom he shut and locked the door. Pulling his hoodie off again, he stretched his wings out. It was pretty impressive

Holy shit

They were amazing, the fluorescent lights reflecting off the feathers, making them glow in an almost ethereal way. 

They reached past his lower back at this point.

He wondered,in the privacy of hisnown mind, how much more they would grow. He hoped he could fly with them.

Almost as if reacting to his thought of flight his wings arched over his head, showing off their milky undersides.

He was awed by the way the bones and muscles moved together. They effortlessly allowed for fine movement, the feathers rippling and moving.

He pondered places to stretch them outside. It would need to be somewhere away from people, and at night, if he brought them out at day people would most certainly see them.

People, he saw them as a threat now he realised. Did that make him no longer human. He was pretty sure wings were not a human accessory. Speaking of which, were there others like him?

Those that woke up suddenly with wings, sure, looking back he can see the warning signs,the aching back then the relief that seemed to come from nowhere. That was incredibly suspicious.

He decided that if he existed there would be others like him, it would be stupid if there wasn't, a bit of a fluke. A one in seven billion chance if you would. 

Improbability is not impossibility though, no matter how much he tried to convince himself.

He perked up at the thought of seeing his friends in real life, rather than through a computer screen.

He had to sleep well tonight,otherwise he would be extremely sleep deprived by the time of the meeting.

He grinned at his reflection in the mirror.

Chapter Text

He paced his room, hoodie off, door locked.

His wings puffed up behind him, the feathers beginning to itch in irritation. How had he not considered this?

He had thoughtlessly agreed to go on a trip, to another area, to meet up with friends that knew pretty much everything about him. Except the fact that he has fucking wings sprouting from his back.

Don't get him wrong, the wings were fucking cool. But did he seriously lack that many brain cells that he decided to just up and go somewhere overnight.

He mentally berates himself for his lack of foresight. This has so many ways it could go wrong.

Someone on the train could figure it out, he would never even get there if that happened.

Even if he did get there, they were going to be walking through the middle of a city, which many of their fans lived in, as a highly recognisable group of minecraft streamers.

Even if he survived a whole day of traipsing through a city, he would then have to go back to Wilbur's house and sleep there. He would not be able to control how the wings acted once he goes to sleep. God only knows how many spare rooms Wilbur has, probably only one, meaning he most likely will have to share with Tubbo.

He loves Tubbo, he really does, but seriously? He cannot have him find out, he will tell all of his friends, then probably the whole of social media. He's his best friend but he knows best that he cannot keep a secret to save a life. The life in this case being his.

He was utterly and completely fucked.

In his frenzy he had not noticed his wings flexing. Feathers falling loose from his wings and scattering on the floor. Creating a mismatch pattern of feather down and a criss-cross of feathers.

Attempting to rationalize his thoughts he realised in a moment of delirious clarity, that there was no rationalising the situation. He's having to rationalise the situation because hes growing fucking wings out of his back. Like a bluddy chicken, and he is not a chicken.

He begins to clear the fog from his head, sweeping it out with an impatient hand. As he begins to slow his frenzied breathing he notices his puffed up wings. They got all puffy with his aggravation, he realised, like an angry cat. He chuckled, then stopped. 

Would cats hunt him now? He doesn't have a beak, but apart from that he is basically now a bird, if he was ever not one in the first place.

He locked that existential crisis away for bo. He could attend to that later, right now he is focusing on not having a meltdown a day before he goes to see his friends.

Right, ways to cope. If he wanted to go out in public without having to wear a hoodie he would need a long coat. Similar to ones people drew Wilbur as wearing. If anyone questioned it he could just play it off as cosplaying Wilbur, they would find it hilarious.

Having something to do he pulled up Google and searched 'long coat'. This brought up a bunch of coats that would go down to about his shins. Perfect.

Looking for one that would deliver by Friday he found one, checked the quality, then bought it.

Sighing in relief he leaned back in his chair. Then instantly shot forward as his wings protested being squished. He cursed. Dumb fucking sheets of flesb and feather  if he wants to lean back in his goddamn chair then he will.

He sighed again, this time in defeat.

Thinking of something else to occupy his time with he decided to go on Google Maps and look up secluded areas. Not for murders obviously. Only so that he can feel the wind brush through his feathers.

He looked in the areas around him, just outside the city borders and pinpointed one. Glancing out his window, he throws out the idea of an early night, whatever that is, and pulls on his grabs his shoes, and books it out of the door. Before his parents can stop him.

Jogging slightly, but needing to slow down after a bit, he did spend most of his time sat in a chair playing minecraft after all.

He began a fast walk towards his chosen totally-not-a-murder spot.

…

That was...longer, than anticipated, taking him almost half an hour to even come close to the spot, then another ten minutes of fighting the local ecosystem to get there.

But, with the view of the stars, only slightly obscured by the far off streetlights, was definitely worth it.

Eagerky shucking his hoodie off, he threw his wings into the air. Feathers only slightly catching towards the base on the messily torn edges of the holes he made in his shirt. The sacrifices he makes for cool stuff.

The breeze feels better than he could have imagined. It sifting its slender fingers through his feathers, delicately teasing them apart. The wind drifts upwards, almost inviting him into the night sky. He resists, knowing that the wings could barely hold his weight, even if they are over the waistband of his trousers by now. 

He instead pucks a tree a jumps towards a high up branch flapping his wings in an effort to reach it.

He barely trabs on, the rough sensation of the bark so sudden of a feeling that he lets go, unceremoniously crashing to the forest floor.

Shit, fuck, that hurts.

He steels himself for another attempt, bending his knees slightly more than last time. Pushing up with one foot he reaches the other one upwards, wings flapping downwards in one strong stroke.

And that's it, he's airborne, for a few seconds, then gravity seems to realise she's lost her grip on him and grabs his ankle, pulling him back down. He reaches for the nearest branch, hands wrapping around it as he brings a leg up too. He clings to the branch desperately, realising he's more than ten feet above the ground.

He clings to his branch tighter, letting his wings sag below him, tips nowhere near to the forest floor.

He rests there, getting over his adrenaline high. He had done it, albeit not for long, but he had flown.

He was proud of himself. Not just for growing some wings, but for embracing it, and not cowering away from it in a misinformed hope that it would disappear. Things don't just disappear, they might suddenly appear but they don't leave so suddenly.

The only way he could get rid of his wings would be to… nevermind.

Bored of just staring at the floor he pulls out his phone, thankfully unharmed.

He checks where his package is. It's meant to come sometime around nine tomorrow. Good.

Closing that tab he resumes his search for information on birds. Once he exhausts that he looks into myths of winged people, the only ones mostly being harpies.  He's pretty sure he's not a harpy, first point being that he still has his arms, them not being replaced by feathers or wings. He turns his phone off in defeat 

His arm hangs below the branch, he begins to feel tired getting more comfy on the branch.

As he drifts off he hears a warning in his head, screaming danger. What danger he thinks, being cut off by his body falling through the air onto the floor below.

He should have expected that.

He rolls onto his front, groaning. That is gonna bruise.

He peels himself off the ground.

…

His bed looks more welcoming than a tree branch, only stripping out of his hood, shirt and jeans he locks his door and falls onto his bed. 

He almost immediately falls asleep.

…

His eyes open wide, surveying the land below him. He soars high above it. The buildings and people small, inconsequential specks of dust.Easily brushed aside.

The rolling hills, move from a lush green through to a pale green to a luscious golden-brown.

The sky is illuminated by the shining sun, hanging just above him in the sky, he makes sure to not fly too close to it.

He's heard the tale of Icarus too many times before.

Swooping lower he admires the gradient of the sky. From a deep lapis blue through to a plae azure.

The sky above is a deep indigo, like the depths of an undiscovered ocean. Space as deep and mysterious as their sustenance on land. 

He ponders the worrying thought thst they know so little about their own. The thought tumbles away in the breeze like a cobweb caught by a brush.

The thought glints in the breeze, like the sun glancing off the dew in the early morning. The thought shimmers and flickers, as it winks out of existence.

He soars onwards, breezes catching and lifting his wing as he drifts between air currents.

He tucks his wings and rolls, barreling to the side, wings snapping back out to slow his sideways drift.

Th clouds begin to appear on his peripheral vision. Encroaching on his perosnal space, flickering a dangerous grey colour.

The crowd closer, pressing in. Trapping him. He beats his wings furiously, hovering in one spot as he glances around, looking for any escape, the only way is down.

He tucks his wings and drops like a dead weight. As he gets below the clouds, land coming ever closer he goes to open his wings again.

They don't open.

He glances back, wiggling his wrists as he's met with resistance, seeing bind around each if his wings. Tying them down, leaving him to fall. 

His gaze returns to his wrists, them being bound too.

He wriggles more, desoerately trying tk get free as the ground rushes up to meet him.

He glances down, at the people below, only catching a glimpse of their faces before he hits the ground.

…

He shoots up in bed, chest heaving for breath. 

That was definitely Tubbo.

Why was that, Tubbo?

He was seeing Tubbo tomorrow.

He could not allow this to bother him.

He turns over and goes back to sleep.

…

He came to easily, drifting in and out of the waves of sleep. Dragging himself to shore, in favour of being sucked back under the waves. 

He stirs, blinking at the warm canopy over his head. A warm, feathery, canopy.

What the fuck.

They were massive. He shot out of bed. His wings almost getting caught in the duvets.

He knly saved himself from falling over by spreading his arms to recentre his balance. 

The wings were down mid-way between his knees and shins. He curses. He wouldn't be able to hide this under a hoodie.

Right on cue his mother calls up the stairs.

"Tom! There's a parcel here for you! I'm leaving it outside your door!"

He thanks his lucky stars that his mum is so nice.

He waits for her footsteps to retreat before unlocking his door, darting a hand out and retrieving his parcel before locking the door again.

He rips the packaging open carfeully, pulling out the garment that lays inside.

Pulling it on he makes sure it fits before slipping it off again.

Time to get creative.

He moves over to his desk, coat still in hand, as he grabs a sharp pair of scissors.

Opening the coat up he positions it with inside facing towards him. He slices two medium sized slits through the inner lining on the coat, making sure he doesnt cut the outer fabric.

Placing the scissors back down he stares at the coat. Figuring out how to manoeuvre his wings.

Pulling one sleeve over his arm he then twists his neck around and starts to manhandle the wing into the slit closest to the arm.

Furst wing down, one more to go. He repeats the procedure with his other wing then moved from his room to the bathroom, glancing at the mirror and checking it effectively conceals his wings.

It does. Problem solved.

He is ready to see his friends.

Chapter Text

He was waiting for Tommy. He was late. He paced around his room occasionally glancing out his window. Ready for him to show up.

They had agreed to meet each other before, then go on to meet Phil and Wilbur.

And Tommy was late. He didn't know whether the blonde was always late, but he was today. It wasn't doing anything for his nerves.

He heard a knock at the door. Rushing down the stairs shouting to his parents that he had it covered.

Wrenching the door open he grinned at Tommy, who was wearing...a trenchcoat?

Tommy shifted under his gaze, moving from foot to foot. Glancing away.

"Big T!" he greeted. Holding out a hand for Tommy to take. 

As Tommy put his hand into his he pulled him inside.

He shouted to his parents, "Tommy's here! I'm just grabbing my stuff then I'm leaving!"

He got a shout of confirmation back, from somewhere else in the house.

Pulling Tommy up the stairs he rushed into his room. Almost dragging Tommy behind him, which was comical in itself, because of the several inches height difference between them.

Tommy complained, muttering under his breath several colourful insults. Tubbo just laughed and brushed it off, knowing he didn't really mean it.

Grabbing his stuff and shoving it into a bag, he slung it over his shoulder. He turned to Tommy, noticing the awkward way he held his bag, slung over an arm and settled in the crook of his elbow instead of on a shoulder.

He gave him a quizzical glance, moving his eyes from the bag up to Tommy's. Tommy, noticing his gaze, shrugged a shoulder.

"I bruised my back falling out of a tree."

Tubbo wanted to know what he was doing up a tree, but knew when to leave things be. Nodding his head slowly he turned to his door, gesturing for Tommy to follow.

He bounced down the steps, jumping down from the last two, landing on the floor below.

"Let's go then!"

…

He'd noticed something was off about Tommy. For all his jokes of Tubbo being the clingy one he did tend towards friendly touch and hugs. 

Yet today he shied away from any and all touch, even the merest brush of shoulders,actually, especially the brush of shoulders.

He pondered what this could mean. Maybe he really had bruised his shoulders badly falling from a tree, but that didn't explain his frantic glances at his surrounding areas. Frequently glancing over his shoulder as if he were being followed.

Tubbo frowned, he cared for his friend and his behaviour currently made him worry. He went over different situations in his head as they walked towards the address Wilbur gave them. 

He could be worried about meeting fans of his content, but that didn't make sense to him. Tommy kind of liked interacting with people that genuinely enjoyed his content, loved it even.

Another explanation for his nervousness could be that one of his parents had come with him, to make sure he was safe. But that also didn't make sense. His father had met Wilbur before, and deemed him safe.

He decided not to think too hard about what was bothering Tommy, and focus on how to make him worry less. Maybe they could return to the arcade from the vlog. Tommy seemed to enjoy that.

"You good there big man?" 

He was shaken out of his thoughts by Tommy's question.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking about what to do today."

"Oh." he nodded.

Turning down the street Wilbur's house was on they picked up the pace, eager to start their mini adventure of the day.

He tentatively reached a hand up to the door, rapping twice on the solid wooden door.

"Children." was their only greeting before Wilbur swept outside, in his full glory. Phil not far behind.

He waved at Wilbur and Phil, grinning. Tommy waved to Phil and did a mock salute to Wilbur.

"You ready to head out?" Phill butted in before the situation could escalate into a mock shouting match between the two.

He glanced over at Tommy, seeing that he had raised his shoulders, making them stick out of his back more prominently from underneath his coat.

As Phil intervened, he watched as his shoulders lowered, minutely. 

Weird.

…

They walked through the town centre, admiring the stalls lining the streets. Apparently Saturday is market day in Brighton. 

As he glanced over the stalls, he took in the wide variety. There was a butcher's van, a grocer's stall, multiple book stalls, a few different sweet stalls, and one wildlife stall.

Tubbo was drawn to the wildlife stall. Admiring the different books, he picked up one on bird species. He already had a few at home, but this one was all the birds of the planet. He only had a British Birds book.

Flipping the book over he read the price.

"You gonna buy that?"

He jumped at the sudden appearance of Tommy at his shoulder. He was leaning over squinting at the blurb on the back of the book.

"Yeah, probably. It's not too expensive."

He nodded and hummed in response.

He stuck a hand out, the universal sign of 'give it'. 

He easily handed the book over, surprised at the sudden interest in birds. He had talked to him about his favourite bird species before, magpies.

"You bought anything yet?"

Tommy nodded and held up a shiny piece of metal, that glinted in the sun. A small gold ring.

He didn't think Tommy was one for jewelry, but he wasn't gonna question. He always kind of saw Tommy as a bit of a magpie, he likes shiny things, he wouldn't hesitate to steal things if he liked them. He was also loud, loud voices being a trait of magpies.

He laughed to himself, imagining Tommy as a magpie, awkwardly standing with wings sticking out of his back.

It was ludicrous.

He beckoned for Tommy to follow. 

"Let's find the others, then we can go get lunch."

…

They settled on a fish and chips shop. The staple of British cuisine. 

They all ordered a portion of chips each, Wilbur and Tubbo ordered haddock, whilst Phil and Tommy got cod.

As they waited for their food they discussed where they should sit to eat. Phil suggested somewhere either on or near the beach, everyone else quickly agreed.

Snatching his food from the counter he grabbed Tommy's arm and dragged him after Phil and Wilbur.

He glanced over at him, slightly worried by his silent composure. His eyes almost glassy, as if lost in another world. 

He just dragged him along faster, almost running after the adults, chip bag swinging from his hand. Tommy stumbled slightly, but righted himself with apparent ease. Odd. He normally falls over, he has shit balance and low blood pressure.

Wil and Phil have sat down on the sea wall, gesturing for them to sit too, so they can eat their food in peace.

Or as much peace as you can get when there are seagulls literally everywhere. The curses of the beach, scavengers everywhere, no remorse. Will snatch a sandwich from your hand if you weren't careful.

Trust him, personal experience.

They didn't bother Tommy though, maybe they remembered him.screaming at them last time he was here. All he did was glower at them and they would hop away, disgruntled.

Tubbo watches as he throws one at a nearby seagull, hitting it square on the head. He mutters a short 'fuck you' under his breath as the seagull shoots him a disgusted look, before snatching the chip and flying off.

…

They did return to the arcade in the end. For Tubbo it was his first time being there, Tommy dragged him around, his excitement apparently re-lit, by a familiar place.

He was talking about vlog guns and vengeance. Tubbo assumed it was to do with Wilbur breaking one of his right before an MCC started.

Tommy showed him.the best machines to get the tickets from, and they seg yo work. Gathering and collecting as many tickets as they could, moving from machine to machine as they exhausted, then restocked their funds countless times.

The shingling sound of the coins slipping over one another, not dissimilar to the way the rocks are ground over one another as they are moved in and out by the waves.

The chiming if the machines pitched in frequently, adding their own discordant melody to the cacophony that was the arcade.

The bright lights in the machines flash, swirling and hypnotising. Drawing people towards it like moths to a flame. Their lights created to lure and trap people, entice them into fighting a losing battle. Like in cards, the house always wins

The people chatter among themselves, a lower level of noise compared to the machines. They whisper, exchanging tips and ways to scam the machines. Others laugh and revel in the joy it brings them or their friends losses.

The arcade is loud. 

Overwhelmingly so.

But Tubbo will be fine.

 Tommy's happy.

So he's fine.

...

They exit the arcade, moving from a stuffy interior to a bitingly cold exterior. Tubbo envies Tommy for the thick looking coat he's wearing. 

It looks like most of the padding is up around his shoulders. But he isn't going to question his friend's unusual fashion taste. 

They move back down the high street. Tommy sniffing his hands and complaining about the smell of copper the coins always leave behind after prolonged handling.

Tubbo agrees, the smell is disgusting.

They move as a pack, weaving between crowds of people as they cross the town centre, on their way back to Wilbur's house. 

Tubbo wonders if Tommy and him will share a room. That would be fun. It would be like a sleepover. He likes sleepovers.

Tommy seems to have settled down, at least a bit. His arm is linked with Tubbo's, their strided matching and he's talking in his overly-loud voice again.

He still occasionally stops and looks over his shoulder, freezing for a moment, then continuing as if nothing happened.

Well, sleepovers were meant for secret sharing, Tubbo supposes he will just have to ask him about it then.  Without the careful gaze of Phil or the occasional glances from Wilbur, ensuring they're still there, still following.

They reach his house, and Wilbur pulls out his key. Unlocking the door, he steps inside, and stops. Right in front of the door. Preventing anyone else from entering.

"Wow," he smirks, "this house really is nice and warm."

Tommy shoves into him,pushing him out of the way.

Wilbur holds his hand up to his chest, mocking a betrayal. Dramatic theatre kid.

…

Wilbur hands out mugs of tea, for them to all drink and warm up.

"Can't have you catching hypothermia on me. MotherInnit would have my head I think."

Tommy chuckles, "She'd probably do worse than that big man."

Wilbur stares at him a moment, trying to decipher what he means, before shrugging and turning to Phil and resuming their earlier conversation.

Before he can really get into the conversation, Tubbo taps his shoulder.

"Where will we be sleeping tonight? I want to put my bag there."

Wilbur just nodded "Third door on the right, second door on the left is the toilet."

He smiles in thanks and grabs Tommy's hand, pulling him to their room for the night.

Tommy moves faster than him and is in the room first, claiming the bed by the wall and below the window as his. Unceremoniously flopping down onto the bed.

Tubbo sets his bag down at the foot of the bed and pulls out his bird book. Tommy appears to be lying on his front, trenchcoat still firmly on his back, as he studies another shiny thing in front of him. This time silver.

The magpie description just kept getting more and more accurate.  He chuckles, then moves to look through the index, searching for the magpies.

Finding the page number, he flips to it and begins reading the page. Most of it is stuff he knows by heart, but there are a few things he hasn't seen before. He studies these to remember them for future conversations with Tommy.

Speaking of Tommy, he turns back to him.

"Hey. You alright? You've seemed a bit off all day. I just wanna make sure you still want to stay."

He looks over in surprise.

"I'm fine?", he cocks an eyebrow, "what gave you the impression that I wasn't?"

"You just seemed...nervous? I guess all day. I didn't wanna say anything in front of the other two, they'd worry and bother you otherwise."

"Oh. Thanks. I'm fine though." He said ir with enough finality that Tubbo got the hint and turned back to his bird book.

He moved to the front, and began reading through the pages. He skipped the ones he already knew, buf read with interest about ones he hadn't heard of fully yet. One that drew his interest was the green bee eater.

Intriguing. He'd have to read up on them.

Chapter Text

Tommy was kinda tired of being dragged around by Tubbo. 

It was humiliating! Tubbo was like five inches shorter than him. Nevermind the fact that he let him drag him around. If he didn't want to move he wouldn't.

Nobody needed to know that. Especially not Wilbur. He had seen the smirks and poorly concealed snickers that he got frkm just watching Tommy being dragged around like a ragdoll, nevermind if he knew that he had let him. He would never let it go. 

Calling him a softie or whatever. He wasn't a softie, he just liked hugs, but not asking for them. Tommy would not be caught dead asking for a hug. That's why he loved Tubbo so much, apart from all his other good qualities, the fact that Tubbo was so tactile and carefree with touch was astounding to Tommy.

That's why he didn't mind it as Tubbo bounced out of his seat, grabbing Tommy's arm and pulling him to the room they would be staying in.

Reaching the room furst, and claiming the superior bed was easy. He flopped down on the bed and it was his.

Pushing himself up with his forearms he dug around in his bag for a second, before dumping it back on the floor. Having retrieved what he wanted. 

Holding the gold ring and the silver band up to the light he admired them, before tucking the gold ring away and beginning to toss the silver one from hand to hand.

He became lost in thought, watching the way the metal glinted as it was thrown through the air, before being caught.

It looked like liquid moonlight, taking him back to when he had laid on the branch in the forest watching the moon and stars between the canopy of the trees.

He's shook out of his thoughts, by Tubbo's voice piping up from where he's sat on his bed.

"Hey. You alright? You've seemed a bit off all day. I just wanna make sure you still want to stay."

He looked towards him in surprise. He'd been normal today right? He thought he had covered all his bases on what he did not want them to find out.

"I'm fine?", he cocks his eyebrow, "what gave you the impression that I wasn't?"

He began screaming in his mind. This could not be happening. He knew Tubbo was smart but he was a good actor too! He could fake it til he made it very well, so good that he would never even have to make it.

"You just seemed...nervous? I guess all day. I didn't wanna say anything in front of the other two, they'd worry and bother you otherwise."

That was nice of him, he was always so considerate for him. Tommy didn't know what he did to deserve Tubbo, but whatever it was certainly wasn't enough.

He decided to go with a rather abrasive response, hoping to stop the questioning he was getting.

"Oh. Thanks. I'm fine though."

Tubbo went quiet after that, resuming his studying of the bird book. He wondered briefly whether the species of the wings sticking out of his back were in there. 

He didn't know shit about birds, he only knew pigeons and seagulls. The bane of his existence. Constantly stealing food from him. Pesky winged bitches.

His gaze returned to the metal band. He didn't know why he bought the two rings. He saw them on one of the stalls, and couldn't tear his eyes away from them, it felt like it was calling for him. So he bought them.

He held up both rings, contrasting them. Like the sun and the moon, day and night, light and darkness, gold and silver, life and death.

Wow, getting poetic in the crisis are we.

He laughed at the fact that he was literally talking to himself and laughing at his own jokes. Not that he didn't already do that, I mean, he's hilarious, why wouldn't he?

He glanced over at Tubbo again, feeling the urge to do something more than sit at opposite ends of a room, like awkward adults.

He brightened up as an idea popped unto his head.

"Tubbo", he stage whispered, the boy looked up, "we should go buy a shit yon of sweets. We're having a sleepover after all." He winked conspiratorially.

Tubo stared at him incredulously, before bursting out into laughter.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just you-you whispered, the-then you winked at me." He continued to laugh, occasionally gasping for breaths, before breaking off choking.

"You finished." He deadpanned, completely unimpressed. He'd had an amazing idea and explained it with perfect execution. Tubbo was just weird.

Tubbo nodded, still wheezing slightly, before standing up. Tubbo grabbed his bag and slipped on his coat. Tommy just grabbed his wallet and stuck it into one of the many pockets of his coat.

They moved out of the room and down the hall, passing Wilbur and Phil, and walking out the door. Shutting it behind them.

They chatted amicably on the walk to the nearest shop, which happened to be a Tescos. 

He noticed Tubbo shivering in his peripheral. Tommy didn't have that problem; he could just sorta curl his wings around himself whilst keeping to the shape of the coat, and he was insulated, it was something about trapped warm air. They had done stuff on it in Year Eight biology or something.

They entered the store, Tubbo letting out a sigh of relief as the heating chased away most of the chills from outside.

They moved in sync towards the sweet aisle. Meandering up and down as they picked a few bags of sweets each to share.

Tubbo got some wine gums and jelly snakes, whilst Tommy got Squashies and Tangfastics.

"This is good and all, but we need fuel if we're gonna stay up."

"What do you suggest?"

He grinned.

"Monster Energy always."

This time Tommy grabbed Tubbo and pulled him along, knowing the general direction of the energy drinks.

He picked out a tropical pipeline for himself and Tubbo, it was his favourite as it was sweet, and the can was pink, 'cos fuck gender norms. He can like pink shit if he wants to.

Heading towards the self service checkout he scans their items, dumping them into a bag before paying and confirming his age, to purchase the energy drinks. If you asked him people under sixteen should be allowed energy drinks,how else are they gonna survive school. Right?

…

Getting back into Wilbur's house brought the feeling back to him, the warmth sinking deep into his bones.

He shook himself slightly, almost like a dog shaking off water, discreetly moving his wings in the action, freeing up the tension that had seemingly collected in his bones and feathers.

The itch persisted in his feathers, almost bone deep at this point, ever present and making him want to rub it off on a nearby tree.

"Hey guys! You're back, we were just trying to decide if we should get a takeaway or not for dinner."

He glanced towards Phil, debating in his head whether they should, before deciding that he was seeing his friends. He deserved a treat, especially after the hell his week had been.

"Yeah sure, what you thinkin'?"

"Chinese? Indian?"

"Does anyone here have anything against Indian food? I feel like having something spicy."

Nobody protested, so Wilbur took that as his go-ahead.

He took everyone's orders and then walked into another room, presumably to place their order.

"C'mon Tubbo, let's go stash the goods."

"What did you go out and get?"

"Drugs." He cackled, already moving away to stash the food and drinks.

…

He sat, enjoying the slight spice of the dish he was eating. He grabbed a poppadom and broke part of it off, scooping up some rice and sauce as he did so.

He put it in his mouth, enjoying it as the poppadom crunched, and the flavours washed over his tongue.

You couldn't beat an Indian takeaway.

Well, maybe you could. But did he care? No he did not.

He finished off his portion of food, glancing around at the rest of the table, noting how far into their meals they were. They were all almost finished, while Tommy had finished.

Wilbur looked like he was crying, steadily continuing to eat his extremely spicy curry. No one knew why he had gotten that for himself if it was too spicy, but no one was mentioning the tears streaming down his cheeks. So Tommy didn't either.

He leaned further forward, almost resting his cheek on the table, facing toward Tubbo.He wished he could lean back in his chair, but at any sign of pain they would be all over him, like annoying wasps in the middle of summer, before he could even say 'wings'.

He resolved to destroy every single backed chair in existence. There was no consideration for anyone who might just happen to sprout fucking wings one day.

He closed his eyes, cheek fully on the table, ready to pass out then and there.

He felt something poke his cheek. He squinted his eyes open, glaring at the offending finger. Glancing up to its owner he leveled his glare at them.

"Looks like someone didn't get their beauty sleep last night." Wilbur mocked him. He rolled his eyes and stood up, stacking the containers and grabbing his plate and glass. He moved towards where the kitchen was and dumped them on the side by the sink.

He trudged back into the longue and flopped face first onto the sofa, set on continuing his nap. 

He more so sensed the presence above him than saw it.

"Whaddya want" he spoke into the sofa cushions, voice muffled.

"A seat" Tubbo, it was Tubbo. He did some weird gymnastics and moved his body to the side, allowing Tubbo to sit down.

"What's with the coat anyway?" He froze, he forgot wearing a coat inside at all times was not normal human behaviour.

Well, he isn't a human anymore. Not that they knew that though, and that was how he wanted it to stay.

"I'm a Wilbur Soot kinnie. Can't you tell." He retorted sarcastically.

"Wilbur Soot kinnie? I think you mean JD from Heathers wannabe."

He snorted into the cushion. He heard some form of protest from the next room over. Probably some dramatic theatre kid shit. 

He didn't care.

His eyes began closing again, before Tubbo jostled his leg with his foot. 

"Do you wanna go back to our room?" He removed himself from the cushion. Blinking blearily at the sudden light. He began moving back to the room in a daze, tiredness hitting him like an anvil to the head.

Tubbo followed behind, footsteps near silently on the wooden floorboards. He only knew he was following because of this apparent new sixth sense he had gained.

He reached the door, turned the doorknob and walked in.

He turned to Tubbo who was sitting down on his bed, pulling various items out and laying them on the duvet.

Oh shit.

He was sleeping here. How the fuck was he gonna do that.

"I'm going to the bathroom!" He blurted. Tubbo shot him a weird look.

"Okayyy?" He responded, slowly, unsure.

He backed out of the room and across the hallway to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him. 

He begins to pull the coat off, untucking his wings from the slits and just. Staring. At himself, in the mirror. 

He stood and extended his wing out to the side then back, repeating it with the other wing.

He doesn't know how long he stood there, lost, staring at a person he doesn't think he should recognise but does.

He's brought out of his trance by a knock, followed by a tentative voice as the door is pushed open.

He can only stare as Tubbo shuffles into the room gaze fixated on the tiles below his feet.

"-and I was starting to get worried because you've been in here quite a while, so I wanted to come make you sure-" he glances up. Eyes widening comically, mouth forming into a small 'o' shape.

Tommy stares back, equally as wide-eyed.

"Hi?" he squeaks out, after an embarrassingly long time just staring at him

No.

No no no no.

No no no no no no no no.

This could not be happening.

He begins to breathe faster. His breaths coming in short, quick gasps.

He distantly hears the door lock click. He whips his head around, to see Tubbo placatingly holding his hands up. Facing towards him, as if calming a wild animal.

"Tommy, it's okay. You're fine,I promise. I won't say a thing! You're safe, you're okay, you're fine.

He begins to try and regulate his breathing. Taking reassurance in Tubbo's words.

His breaths begin to slow, becoming deep and even, unlike his previous short and ragged breaths.

He glances back at Tubbo, who is stood a short distance away, just watching him. He smiles reassuringly, taking a step forward, and another, and another. Until he is close enough to touch.

Moving slowly he gently pulls Tommy forward, gripping his back as he gives him a hug.

Tommy blinks.

He was not expecting this.

He begins to hug him back. Burying his face in his best friend's hair.

He begins to cry quietly.

…

He regains his composure after a minute of hugging. Releasing Tubbo from.his hold he steps back, picking his coat up and tucking it around his body, hiding his wings in a temporary way.

"Let's go back to our room" he whispers, voice hoarse.

Tubbo nods and leads the way out, unlocking the door.

Once they reenter their room, Tubbo teuns around and locks that door too.

"For privacy," he clarifies, " I didn't think you'd want Phil and Wilbur to know."

He smiles, feeling grateful for his friend the hundredth time that day.

"Thanks big man" he smiles.

"So, explain, I don't understand why you have wings sticking out your back okay."

He sighs, "Neither do I, I just woke up with tiny little ones sticking out of my back on Thursday, and they grew. That's all I know. I can't even identify the bird."

Tubbo looks at him in pity.

"Have you never even seen a magpie. Your wings are obviously magpie wings. They're rather distinctive markings after all."

He feels a little bit stupid. It should have been rather obvious with the black and white patterns, but he wasn't the bird fan, that was Tubbo.

"Can I touch them?" He's surprised by the sudden question but extends his wkng in answer. Allowing Tubbo to run his fingers between his feathers.

"They're in horrible condition, have you even tried to take care of them."

He turned his head back towards Tubbo.

"What the hell do you mean."

"Well," he trailed off, fidgeting with a feather, "birds normally preen themselves, sometimes in a communal, but most often they do it themselves. I researched it once when I got bored at 3am." 

He smiled, proud of himself for his knowledge. Tommy just looked at him.

"Preening?"

Tubbo nodded, "Where birds organise their feathers and keep them in good condition."

"Oh. I don't know how to do that."

He drew his wing back towards himself, fluffing the feathers up in embarrassment.

"Don't worry! I know how, kinda, I mean. I've watched other birds doing it, so I have a pretty good idea on how. Just give me a second!"

He watches in bewilderment as he drags the duvets off of his and Tommy's beds, piling them on the floor in a roughly circular shape.

"Sit" he did as he was told, settling down in the centre of the blanket nest tucking his knees under his chin.

"I'm gonna touch your wings now, okay?"

He nodded.

Tubbo slowly stroked a hand down his wing, sending a shiver down his spine.

He begins to open the wing up. He stops for a moment, then begins pushing Tommy to lie down on his stomach.

He obliges.

Tubbo then spreads his wing out over the duvet, and kneels near to the base of it.

He begins to tease the feathers apart, pulling any loose ones out. He explains the process to Tommy as he goes about straightening his primaries and secondaries.

As he finishes with the first wing, he strokes his hand over the wing. Making Tommy almost melt into the floor. The nerves on his wings are really sensitive, he's found out. 

Tucking the first wing back in, Tubbo moves onto the second one, repeating the process. As he finishes with this wing he just sits with it in his lap for a while, stroking the feathers tenderly. 

Tommy cranes his neck around to watch him. His feathers don't feel itchy anymore and he feels rested, and relaxed.

He sits up. Startling Tubbo, as he moves towards him. Grabbing him in a hug and wrapping his wings around him.

"Thanks big man. I appreciate it."

"No problem bird brain." he snickers at his own joke.

Tommy just rolls his eyes.

…

He lies in bed. Staring at the ceiling. He glances over to where he knows Tommy is sleeping. 

He smiles to himself, the boy is passed out, one wing hanging off the edge of the bed, feathers draping over the floor.

Tubbo glances down at his hand. He holds a collection of black and white feathers in his hand, ones that had fallen out earlier whilst he had been sorting Tommy's feathers for him.

This was crazy.

He turned over, the feathers clutched in his hand.

He thinks it was a good idea to leave the door locked. Don't want anyone else finding this out, he supposes. The way Tommy reacted when he found out was bad enough. He didn't want to see what anyone else finding out would do to Tommy.

He sighs turning over in his bed.

Falling asleep.

Drifting, dreaming of swirling feathers and windy skies.

Chapter Text

He woke up slowly. Head pressed against something warm and solid. 

He felt safe, as if he were cocooned, away from the dangers of the world.

He gazes up at the canopy above him, the interweaving black and white feathers.

Feathers?

He looks towards the source of his warmth. He finds Tommy. Face pressed into the pillow, neck at an uncomfortable angle.

His wing is carelessly thrown over his body, blanketing and dwarfing him with its size. 

He strokes a hand over the feathers. Still in awe that his friend just up and grew these one day, and still came to meet them.

He swears Tommy is one of the biggest dumbasses he knows. Who decides to go and stay overnight at a place, with massive fucking wings jutting out of their back, and expects keep it a secret.

Apparently Tommy.

He admires the wings a little longer, fingers tracing the curve of individual feathers, admiring the glossy sheen from the dark feathers. An almost green glint to them with the morning sunlight reflecting off of them. 

The white feathers contrast the black ones beautifully, their white shining a brilliantly blinding colour, the heavy contrast with the oil coloured feathers surrounding them.

He thinks back to what he knows about magpies.

They're highly inquisitive creatures, often known to copy the actions of humans.

They are extremely loud, with the warbling and whole other host of noises. He thinks he remembers reading that they can purr?

He thinks it suits Tommy, it would also explain the reasoning he bought those two rings, they're shiny and it's pretty much just a stereotype at this point, but he finds it funny.

He turns back to Tommy's face and sees him watching him, eyes open. Staring at how his hands trace his wings.

His eyes widen, beginning to pull his hand away. Before Tommy makes a noise of protest, halting his movements.

"It's nice," he slurs, only just awake, "it feels different to any other kind of touch. Like hugging 'n shit."

Tubbo returns to stroking the feathers. Teasing apart any that had become tangled during the night.

He wondered when Tommy had gotten into his bed, seeing as he doesn't remember it happening.

He looks back to Tommy, who is almost asleep again. They both lie there in silence for a while.

They have the time.

…

"Wakey, wakey. Breakfast is ready!" Wilbur's voice floated through the door, too awake for this early of an hour.

He groans, tucking his wings back in, freeing Tubbo from under its weight. He shuffles over to get dressed, pulling out one of his modified shirts and the trenchcoat.

Slipping his wings through the specially cut holes and pulling on some trousers, he manoeuvres his wings into the coat lining. Shifting them around until they're settled and comfortable.

He glances back to Tubbo, who's beginning to shove his stuff back into a bag. Tommy follows suit, packing all his stuff away and leaving the room tidy.

He grabs Tubbo's arm, pulling his protesting form out the locked door and to the kitchen.

He grabs them a plate each and moves to the table, Tubbo trailing not too far behind.

He sets the plates down, announcing his presence, as the other two glance up from their phones, then resume their previous activity.

He throws himself into his chair sweeping back his hair with a dramatic flourish. He grins at Tubbo, then begins scooping the food into his mouth.

He doesn't plan on getting anything on his way back, so he'll have to eat more now.

He finishes his plate quickly, delivering it to its place by the sink, then returning back to Tubbo.

They planned on walking back to Tubbo's house together, then Tommy would continue onto the train station.

They had a few hours yet.

…

He was being dragged into the woods. Looked like a potential murder spot to him. Tubbo didn't seem to agree.

He wanted him to 'stretch his wings', more like he wanted to see him fall flat on his face.

He answered question after question from Tubbo, his monotonous, one word answers not putting him off in the slightest. Most answers consisted of a short 'dunno', he had no more clue than Tubbo did.

Reaching a spot Tubbo had deemed worthy, he halts. Dropping Tommy's arm, in favour of looking around the glade they stood in.

Tommy glances around, noting the thick foliage, preventing any prying eyes from looking in. He wondered how Tubbo found it; he apparently comes here all the time, to think.

Tubbo turns to him, excitement lighting his face up.

"Right! Coat off!" 

He blanches, stepping back, shaking his head. He hadn't thought that Tubbo was serious.

He could not fly. It might be a tighter fit in the coat's lining currently, but he doubted they could hold his weight.

Tubbo was determined, he coaxed and convinced him until he caved, slipping the coat off and stretching his wings above his head.

He did have to admit, it felt good. Better than the last time he was out. He's more finely attuned to the sensation of the wind through his feathers, oddly reminiscent of the preening from the night before.

He turns to Tubbo, who still seems to be in awe, despite having already seen them before.

He dismisses it and raises a questioning eyebrow to Tubbo.

"Can you fly?"

"I haven't tried to yet"

"Can you try right now?"

"Why should I?"

"Because...you're my best friend?"

"Fine," he sighs, " but if this does go wrong, that is completely on you big man"

He knew this was going to go wrong.

"It'll probably be easier if you climb part way up a tree. It gives you more height, and is probably easier than trying to take off from the ground."

He strode over to the nearest tree, glancing up at the nearest branches before reaching up. 

He gripped the roih bark of the tree, slightly scraping his palms as he hoisted himself up onto the branch.

He sat with a leg on either side of the branch before slowly standing up.

He reached for the next branch and repeated the process. Testing each branch before he put all of his weight on it, to ensure it wouldn't snap under him, causing him to plummet to the floor below.

The midday sun reflected off of Tubbo's face below, as he stood, craning his head upwards to watch his progress up the tree.

Deeming it a decent height, Tommy paused, gripping the branch he was on before standing up.

He extends his wings, giving them a few experimental flaps, causing the branch to bounce slightly as the distribution of weight changes.

He steels himself, pushing himself to just get on with it. 

He closes his eyes, sucks in a deep breath. He opens his eyes,and removes a foot from the branch, launching himself into the air with the foot still on the branch. He shoots up, wings twisting slightly as he struggles to right himself.

He gives his wings a few harsh strokes down, in a last ditch attempt to remain airborne.

And he does.

He continues to flap his wings, hanging in the midair, just below the treetops, as Tubbo shouts with glee below him.

He chances a glance down, then begins to circle slowly, wings flapping in an even rhythm. Just enough to keep him up, but not too much to send him flying upwards.

He glances down, truly appreciating how good his eyesight was for once, he watches with interest as the grass sways in a slight breeze, and bugs skitter over the decomposing leaf litter.

He brings his circling downwards, descending back to the ground in a loose spiral.

"That was fucking awesome!"

He bends his knees to prepare for the impact of the ground and lands rather softly. He glances up, wings tucking themselves back in as Tubbo bounces in place, hands waving everywhere, as he gestures excitedly as he talks.

"- and you just flew! I couldn't actually believe it would happen, like sure, you have wings but I wasn't sure you would actually be able to fly!" 

He laughs, "Tubbo, you need to breathe. I get that it's exciting. I mean, I just fucking flew! But I can't have you passing out here, I don't wanna lug you back to your house."

Tubbo punches his arm playfully.

"I'm not that heavy!" he protests.

Tommy glances up towards the sky, determination settling over his features he begins to draw his wings up, bringing them over his head. Bending his knees down he pushes up with a large shove into the ground, wings whistling past his ears as he did so.

He expected to be back in the air, soaring again, elation and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Then the forest floor rushes up to meet him.

He leaves his face in the dirt. Not wanting to look up. His wings lay sprawled over the floor.

He hears footsteps near his head, still not looking up he groans, as Tubbo pats his head.

"You good there?"

He nods into the dirt, probably smearing soil all over his face as he did so.

Tubbo tugs at his arm, asking him to get up. Not for the first time that week, he peels himself off the forest floor, embarrassment lighting his face a flaming red.

He scuffs his shoe in the dirt.

"You probably need a run up. You get more momentum behind your push if you do."

Tubbo steps back, gesturing for him to try. Tommy paces to the edge of their glade, pushing himself off and running up before pushing himself into the air, wings flapping down as he becomes airborne.

He wings his way up higher, to assure himself he wouldn't catch a wing on a low lying shrub.

He grins, pride making itself known in his mind, as he soars.

Wings catch the light as the sun soaks his feathers, dappling his wings as the leaves create an intricate pattern of light.

He pauses, he can hear voices. 

He tucks his wings, barreling towards the floor. Tubbo has heard them too as he flings Tommy's coat at him, hurrying to pull it on, to conceal his wings.

He displaces several feathers in his hurry, and winces at the discomfort of it, but pushing on past it in his panic.

He gets his wings settled, smoothing down the feathers from where they puffed up.

Hurrying over to Tubbo, they sit down at the base of a tree and begin to talk.

They weren't a minute too late either, as several young children came crashing through the bushes.

He glances to Tubbo, relief sweeping across his face as he gingerly leans back, testing how much weight his wings would bear. 

Not much, but it was enough to create the illusion of a casual scene.

The children freeze, lowering their sticks as they take in the scene in front of them.

They look among themselves before crashing back through the bushes, running back the way they came.

Tommy starts to laugh. Tubbo soon joins in.

"That was way too close," he huffs between laughs. Tubbo just nods in agreement.

He stands up, holding out a hand for Tubbo to pull himself up with. They begin the trek back, Tommy to return to the train station, and Tubbo back to his house.

"Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything, feathery related or not" He smiles, thankful for Tubbo, he had no clue where he would be without him.

"Thanks Tubbo"

…

He boards the train, opting to sit in a four seater booth on his own. Throwing his legs over the seat next to his, he glares at any people who pass by, daring them to try and sit near him.

He pulls out his phone and puts his headphones in.

He sits and watches, body leaned up against the window, as the outside world flashes past him, feelin so near yet so far away at the same time.

He turns back to his phone.

…

He opens the door to his house, relishing in the feeling of safety it brings him, the ever so slight amount that is.

He doesn't feel truly safe here anymore. He felt more safe in that glade with Tubbo.

It was late, not too late, but also not early.

He moves to his room, shutting the door behind him as he walks over to the small mirror near his desk. Looking into it he notes his tired eyes and messy hair. Brushing his hair back his fingers catch on something that is decidedly not hair.

Pulling back the hair covering his ears, he peers into the mirror, almost gasping at what he sees.

There, right behind his ears, are a few small feathers, sticking close to his skull.

They're small, almost like the ones on his wings. He checks behind his other ear, and sure enough, there's feathers there too.

He sighs.

This might as well happen.

He shucks his coat off and collapses into bed, not bothering to change or check the lock on his door like he normally does.

It'll be fine.

He probably locked it anyway

He sleeps.

Chapter Text

He woke to shouting.

Not the friendly kind he does on stream with his friends, the truly angry kind. The type of angry that could turn violent or destructive at the snap of a finger.

He pulled his wings up over his head. Trying fervently to block out the noise, he pulled them close to his body, fully covering himself in the insulating feathers.

He turned to his door.

He looked at his door.

The door that was open.

The door was open.

Oh shit.

He threw off his covers in a panic, standing up and beginning to get dressed hurriedly.

He pulls his coat over his shoulders.

They had seen him. They had seen his wings. One of his parents had seen his wings.

And now they were shouting.

He crept into the hallway, coat floating slightly behind him, the hem inches off the ground.

He moves down the stairs, near silent in comparison to the shouting match going on in another room.

He peered around the doorframe and saw his parents, stood shouting at each other.

His father displayed an aura of cool confidence whilst his mother looked extremely close to completely losing her shit. 

"-he cannot stay here, he has wings growing out of his fucking back! Wings! Out of his fucking back! That's not normal! He needs to go! We should be calling the police on him!"

"He might need to go, but we don't need to call the police on him, please." His mother pleaded, as Tommy stood in the hallway. Watching with bated breath as they discussed his fate.

He caught his father's eye.

"You! Out! Grab a bag then leave! We don't want you here!"

Tommy felt numb. This could not be happening. He nodded hastily and backed away. In his panic he stumbled and almost fell over, but he righted himself, scampering up the stairs and into his room. He pulled his suitcase down off the top of his wardrobe and began packing some necessities, like a wash bag, some clothes and a charting cable and adaptor for his phone

He looked over at his monitor, then back at his suitcase.

It was large enough. He could fit most of his stuff in.

He went about disconnecting the power and packing it all away. In the end he empties out the other stuff in there and shoved it in his school bag instead.

Zipping it shut and gazing remorsefully around his room. There was so much stuff left. He picked up the rucksack, carefully slinging it over his shoulder, before carefully picking up his suitcase and leaving.

He was out and down the street before he knew it.

Wallet tucked safely in his pocket.

He made his way slowly towards the train station, not knowing where else to go. He bought a ticket to Brighton and waited.

He pulled out his phone, reading over the messages he had received before shoving it back in.

He just felt numb. He felt like he should be crying, but he just sat there, with an empty feeling of apathy, as he waited for his train.

Getting up, he boarded, with a detached sense of grief, hanging heavy over his head. 

He moved to a four seater, dumping his bags down and collapsing.

He pulled out his phone, opening up his Discord. He selected a private chat.

Hey, you home? he texted. He sat, waiting for a reply.

Yes. Why? Got a stream planned?

No, just wondering. You planning on going out?

No? Tommy, I'm getting worried.

He shut his phone off, sighing and leaning back. He had a while yet. He stared at the slightly familiar countryside.

Feeling wildly different from his past self he slumped forward, feeling exhausted. He didn't know what to do

 He closed his eyes, just for a second.

...

"Arriving at Brighton in five minutes" the artificial sounding voice rang over the loudspeaker, startling him out of his impromptu nap.

He looked up, grabbing his bags as he saw the platform come into view.

Moving towards the crows by the doors he prepared to get off. 

He went through the path in his head, how to get to where he was going.

Confident in where he was headed he picked up his bags, following the people as they streamed out of the train car and onto the platform. They greeted and hugged others as he weaved through the crowd. Trying to get out.

He wanted to get there before it got dark. He didn't want to be outside during the night.

He walked down street after street, reading the street signs to be sure he was on the right track.

Moving down the rows upon rows of houses he stopped.

He stared up at the imposing brick, as the house seemed to loom over him, making him feel small and insignificant.

He began to feel the numbness that had settled in his bones thaw. He walked up to the door, large and dark. He raised a fist, and knocked.

The sound rang through the empty street, echoing off the walls surrounding him. He began to feel his walls crumble. His facade was cracking.

The door opened.

He looked up.

"Tommy?"

He began to cry.

"Shit. Um, it's okay? I'm not very good at this, sorry."

He felt Wilbur grab his shoulders as he guided him inside, away from the prying eyes of his neighbours.

He felt Wilbur wrap him in a hug. He clutched Wilbur's back as he cried, all of the emotions from his day washing over him in waves.

Like waves at the beach during a storm, relentlessly pounding on the shore below them until it gave way.

His sobs began to quieten, as his hold on Wilbur released.

He mumbled into Wilbur's chest.

"I didn't catch that Tommy, what did you say?"

He sighed, a broken and watery one,before speaking louder.

"I said I got kicked out, Wilbur."

He feels Wilbur suck in a breath quickly.

"Okay. I'm not gonna ask why right now, because I know when to leave things alone. But, can I ask, why me? Why come to my house of all places?"

He shrugged, not knowing even himself why he did.

"I didn't know where else to go"

"Okay, it's late, have you eaten yet?" He shook his head no. Wilbur pulled him up from the floor where they were sat, and guided him to his kitchen, sitting him down in a chair before looking through his freezer.

"I have pizza?" He nodded, too tired to speak. He laid his head on the table, watching Wil put the oven on and remove the pizza from its box.

His eyes began to slide closed.

He welcomed the darkness sleep brought.

...

He dreamt of a dark room, he was sat in the dark room. He didn't know why. He just sat there.

He began to worry. What if that's all there was left? What if there was only darkness.

He tried to bring his wings around him, only to feel pain.

He looked back to where his wings would be and saw only bloody stumps, as if they had been sawed clean off bone and all.

He choked back a sob.

He looked at the mangled remains of his wings silently letting tears drip down his face, as wave after wave of grief washed over him. Pulling him further from the surface and leaving him to drown.

He stopped struggling.

…

He woke up with a gasp, looking around, wide eyed.

Wilbur only glanced over at him as he cut the pizza, putting a few slices onto two plates.

He brought the food over and sat down across from Tommy, handing him a plate.

He stared down at the plate, his stomach suddenly realising he'd had nothing to eat today. It protested loudly, and Tommy began to eat.

Wilbur just watched him solemnly over the table. Slowly chewing his food. 

As Tommy finished his slice of pizza, Wilbur took this as his cue to speak up.

"I'm not angry at you, I'm glad you came to me, but I do want to know why you got kicked out." He spoke softly, in a soothing tone, as if he was wary of Tommy's worries, not wanting him to break again.

He looked down to his plate.

"It's complicated."

"Of course," he soothed again, "but I would like to know"

"Trust me, if you knew, you'd probably kick me out as well."

"I won't! I won't, I swear Tommy. You're safe here."

He sighed again, tracing the scratches in his plate with his eyes.

He weighed up the outcomes in his head, either he could lie and Wilbur would find out later, initiating the same reaction he would get if he told him now. He didn't want to get comfortable only to be kicked out at a later date.

He looked up.

"I grew a pair of fucking wings one day, and my parents found out"

He watched Wilbur's face for any signs of anger, but he couldn't see any. Just a look of disbelief.

"Tommy, I know you might not want to tell me, but I can tell that's a lie."

"It's not," he responded, in a monotone, "trust me, I couldn't believe it either.

"Prove it"

Always one for a challenge, Tommy rose from his chair and removed his coat, slightly extending one of the wings out to the side. Careful not to break anything.

"Oh" Ever the eloquent response from Wilbur.

"Yeah, oh"

He sat back down. Not bothering to put his coat back on. There was no point.

"So you're just living like this huh"

"Yup" he responded,picking up his second slice of pizza.

"Wow. Can you fly?"

"Yes, me and Tubbo went and tested it out yesterday"

"You told Tubbo before me? The betrayal" He dramatically put his hand to his chest, feigning a strike to the heart.

"Yeah, we slept in the same room, pretty fuckin weird to sleep with a coat on. He walked in on me looking at them anyway."

Wilbur just nodded,continuing to eat his pizza, as if this happened everyday to him.

Tommy finished the last of his pizza. He put his plate on the side like he did a few days ago.

He glanced back to Wilbur, who was chewing his food slowly, as if lost in thought. 

He spoke up, phrasing his words slowly as he chewed

"You can stay here if you like. I have the space for you, and another person, but I doubt anyone else will come here."

Tommy felt tension in his shoulders that he didn't even realise he was holding bleed out.

"Thank you" he breathed.

Come on, let's put your stuff in your new room I guess."

He moved towards the door, getting his suitcase and bag from where he had dropped them. Walking down the hallway and into the guest room, or his room now he supposes.

He walks in on Wilbur pushing the two single beds together, creating a double bed. He glances up from his task.

"Figured you'd need a double bed with those massive wings Tommy boy."

Shoving his suitcase and bag into the corner he watched as Wilbur finished pushing the beds together.

As he moved away, Tommy walked over and sat on the bed, staring at the blank wall in front of him.

"I'm gonna leave you to it, try and get some sleep okay?"

He nodded, pulling out his phone. Wilbur left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Tommy moved to his bag and pulled out the set of pyjamas he had shoved in. He changed and lay down in bed.

He pulled out his phone, texting Tubbo.

'Hey, Tubbo'

'Hi'

'I'm at Wilbur's'

'?????'

He snorted at Tubbo's use of question marks.

'I got kicked out, parents saw my wings'

':( I'm sorry Tommy'

'I'm living with Wilbur rn for the foreseeable future'

'Nice, can I come visit at some point?'

'Yeah, sure'

'I'm going to sleep now, goodnight Tommy'

'Night Tubbo'

He shut his phone off, snuggling closer to his duvet, bringing his wings around himself.

He tried to sleep.

Chapter Text

He came to, feeling warm and safe. Pulling back his wing from where it had been blanketed over his head he looked around his room.

There was a desk in the corner he was going to set up his streaming equipment on later, and a small wardrobe nestled in the corner by the doorway.

He dragged himself out of bed, looking for a clean pair of clothes, pulling them on.

He glanced at the trenchcoat before forgoing it in favour of a hoodie.

He slipped it on over his head, letting his wings hand out from underneath as there were no holes for them to go through. He'd have to ask Wilbur for a pair of scissors for that later.

Digging through his school bag he realised how few clothes he had actually brought with him.

Setting the meager amount of clothes in the wardrobe he headed into the hallway and towards the kitchen, leaving setting up his monitors for later.

He moved down the hallway, feet sliding over the wooden planks. He adjusted the hoodie, then readjusted it, his wings feeling trapped under the thick fabric.

As he entered the kitchen he saw Wilbur stood over the stove, scrambling eggs in a pan.

He glances his way, watching as he makes a beeline for the drawers and begins to rummage through them.

"You good there Tommy?"

He grunted in acknowledgement, not bothering to reply as he pulled a pair of scissors from the drawer.

Pulling the hoodie off and over his head he laid it down on the table, the back facing him.

Opening the scissors he began to cut a slit on one side, the another on the other side. Wilbur stood there, watching, bemused as he cut the hoodie then pulled it on, pulling his wings through the gaps.

"You're gonna burn your eggs if you keep smiling at me like that, Wil"

He turns back to the stove in a panic, shutting the gas off before he ruins his eggs and pan.

He scraped the scrambled eggs onto a plate with toast, only slightly blackened at the edges.

"These aren't my eggs, they're yours. I've already eaten."

He sets the plate down in front of Tommy before moving off into another room, leaving Tommy to eat on his own. Not bothered by this he pulled out his phone, looking at twitter as he ate.

Apparently people were getting worried about him because he hadn't streamed in a few days.

He scoffed. He knew how to take care of himself, he was, after all, the biggest man here. This further strengthened his resolve to get his kit set up so he can stream as soon as possible, he wouldn't want to deprive his viewers of his wonderful personality for too long.

He shoves the last mouthful of egg in and sumps his plate by the side with a small clatter. Walking with a determined air back to his room, he shut and locked the door behind him.

Dragging his suitcase across the floor towards the desk, he opens it, carefully detangling the cords and withdrawing the computers. He sets it up on the desk, arranging everything how it normally is and plugging it all in.

He stares at the blank screen, feeling a sense of deja vu from a mere few days ago. How different he felt then. 

He was still home, he was happy. He was having fun with his friends. 

He just felt numb now.

But that was fine.

He would be fine.

...

"What is up chat! I'm back, and I'm still alive!"

He grinned, despite knowing chat couldn't see him. He thought it might be a bad idea to use facecam with massive wings on his back, where he averaged over 100k viewers every stream.

It wouldn't be a very well kept secret then.

He looked at his chat, seeing multiple people questioning why he had turned his facecam off. He shoukd probably clear that up.

"Okay, so I can see a few people are wondering why I've got my facecam off. Your only answer is that I have personal reasons which I do not need to disclose to you."

He smiled, proud of himself for sounding so professional.

"Right, formal shit over,  we're gonna hop on the Dream SMP and just hang with our friends!"

He joined the discord call with Tubbo, Phil and Wilbur in it. He could hear Wilbuar at the other side if the house and hoped his chat couldn't. He didn't feel like he could explain that one.

"Hey guys!" He shouted into the call, disrupting their conversation.

He got a few greetings in return.

He moved over to where Tubbo's avatar stood. 

They had planned to stream together yesterday, then stuff happened, so thye relocated to today. 

They wanted to grab more kit and regain their stuff from where Dream had blown it all up.

He was still slightly annoyed about that, he didnt hold it against him, it was for the storyline, but he did spend a long time getting that stuff. 

He planned to visit Dream in prison in a few days, they hadn't arranged a set time yet so he would have to do that at some point.

There was always at least one person in chat asking him to visit Dream, but he'd have to ask Sam to get on, so it was too much hassle to just instantly do it.

He pushed it to the side for now, focusing on what he was going to do today. 

…

He bid his goodbyes to his friends, noticing Tubbo's seeming reluctance to leave, despite all their streams beinh finished, and it was just the four if them in the conversation. Without thousands of people listening to their conversation they had just chatted for a bit. Talking about nothing in pparticular. He said goodbye to Tubbo, leaving as they were the only two left.

As he shut his computer down for the day he heard a knock on the door.

He shouted dor them to come in. Wilbur pushed the door open, sitting on his bed and patting for Tommy to sit with him.

He got up warily, sitting and perching kn the edge, nervous about what he might want to talk about.

"Legally, you're still a child," he nodded slowly, confused about where the conversation was going,  "meaning you still need to go to school, lest I get arrested as the person you are currently living with. Meaning, you need to look at colleges around here, you need to finish your schooling."

He nodded again, seeing the logic in Wilbur's words.

"I'll look into it," he muttered, "but I don't know where to start looking here."

"That's fine Tommy, you can ask for help. I'll help you find one"

He grinned, grateful for his friends once again.

The seemingly permanent numbness he now carried with him began to melt away, thawing slightly, but not completely. It would probably take time to melt away.

…

Him and Tommy had been looking at local colleges for several hours at this point. He was growing slightly tired, but not regretting his decision to help him look. It would be mean for him to retract it after promising to help. 

He was sat on a chair, whilst Tommy sat with his wings hanging over the back of a stool. Tommy shook his shoulder,helpfully shaking him out of his thoughts. I found one, it looks like a nice one, and it's close to here, not very close, but close by.

He looked at the screen, gtinning when he saw the name.

It would appear Tommy did not remember the name of the college Tubbo went to. That was rather funny.

"Looks like a good one, do you want me to give them a ring or you?"

Tommy glanced up at him, "would you be able to do it?" He questioned.

Wilbur nodded, glad to be able to help.

He moved out of the room to ring the college, to see if they would accept him in.

…

Tommy just sat there after Wilbur left, the fact that he was going to a new college just confirmed how permanent this was. He wasn't able to go back, he didn't have a place in his home with his parents anymore.

He didn't care.

He walked out to the kitchen, deciding to make food for him and Wilbur to repay the fact that he had been making the meals for both of them the past few days.

He pulled something out the freezer,  squinting at the label on the package before deciding it was good enough and shoving it in the oven.

Wilbur walked in as he was putting the chicken and chips on a plate.

"The college says you start tomorrow, on Monday. Better get your stuff ready."

He sat down and thanked Tommy qhen he brough his plate over.

They chatted amicably as they ate, Tommy talking to Wilbur about his plans now that he lived closer to all his friends.

"Oh! And Tubbo said he was gonna visist at some point, so that will probably happen within the next few days."

Wilbur nodded, "He remembers the address alright? Don't want him to get lost on the way."

"He remembers it, don't worry."

Wilbur stood from the table and collected both of their plates.

Moving to wash them up, he turns to Tommy.

"You should probably go have a shower, I don't know the last time you had one but you stink."

Tommy stops at that, trying to think when the last time he did have a shower was, it was before he grew the wings so...Wednesday. It was Sunday.

He walks out of the room, digging hrough his bag and thanking his last self for somehow putting a towel in there, pulling that and his pyjamas out and moving to the bathroom where the shower was. 

Locking the door behind him, he turns the shower on and gets undresded as he waits for it to heat up.

Once it's a nice temperature he steps in and begins to wash. He pauses when he cimes to his wings, glancing at them as he pulls one around.

He decides to just run his fungers through the feathers and remove any trapped dirt that way.

Stepping out of the shower and turning it off he grans his towel, quickly drying his hair and his body.

He pauses again when he reaches his wings, they sag behind him,heavy with teh water they soaked up.  He puffs his feathers out, reminding him of a disgruntled cat slightlyHe pulls his pyjamas on, trying not to let his wings drip on them too much, before pulling them through the slits at the back.

Picking up his towel and dirty clothes he moves out of the bathroom and back to his room, dumping the clothes in a chair snd the towel was hung over his door.

He grabs his toothbrush and returns to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

As he's brushing them, Wilbur comes kn and sees him, stood with his wings puffed out. He snorts and Tommy glares at him, daring him tl say something.

He holds up his hands placatingly, "Sorrh Tommy, you just reminded me of a pissed off cat, with those feathers all puffed up like that." 

Tommy rolls his eyes and spits in to the sink, wasjing his toothbrusg with water before flicking it at Wilbur.

"You deserved that" he states, brushing past him and out of the bathroom, back down the hallway to his room.

He shuts the door as best he can with a towel hanging over the top of the door  and collapses into bed.

He pulls out his phone, furst setting himself an alarm so hecan make it yo school on time, then openong up twitter and scrolling for a bit. He notices some worry among some people, as they comment on his lack of a facecam. They'll have to get used to it he supposes.

Shutting off his phone once he notices the time, he settles down to sleep.

…

He's woken in the dark, by Wilbur knocking roughly on the door.

"When you said Tubbo was coming over I didn't think you meant at three in the morning panicking on my doorstep."

"Wha-" is his incredibly intelligent response, cut off by Tubbo barelling straight into him, knocking the sir out of his chest in a slight wheeze.

"I'll leave you to it" Wilbur exits swiftly, shutting the door behind him.

"Tubbo, Tubbo. You gotta breathe man.  Just in and out, slowly, like this." He breathes in and out, demonstrating for Tubbo to follow as his friend hyperventilates in front of him.

Tubbo's breathing begins to slow as he copies Tommy's calm, deep breaths.

It reminds Tommy of when Tubbo had calmed him down in the bathroom the other day.

"What's the matter Tubbo? You gotta tell me or I can't help you."

"I-it's, it's my ba-ack," he gasps," ju-just look, o-okay?"

He turns Tubbo around, touching the bottom of the boy's shirt to let him know what he was going to do, before pulling it up, revealing Tubbo's back, and the small pair of wings sticking out of it.

Tommy just stares for a second as he takes it in, before lowering his shirt back down and turning him to face him.

He doesnt miss the way his hands tremble slightly, he doesn't know what with yet though, excitement or fear?

He brings Tubbo into a hug, soothing him as he trembles and clutches his shirt. He brings his wings around them both, shielding Tubbo from the rest of the world as he held onto his best friend.

"It's going to be okay, you're okay. I promise"

Tubbo sniffled against him, when had he started crying? As he held on tighter. Tommy slowly lay them down, still keeping one wing around Tubbo as he lays them down.

They fall asleep, clutching each other, as they faced their new reality.

Chapter Text

His alarm blared. 

Oh shit, his alarm. 

His alarm for school.

His new school.

Oh shit.

He shot up in bed. Or he at least tried to, a heavy weight kept him mostly pinned to the bed. He pulled back the wing covering the warm mass.

He discovered Tubbo, curled into his side. Asleep.

He poked him in the cheek, causing him to startle awake and flail his arms about. He laughed at Tubbo's antics, causing the boy to awaken fully and glance over at him, confusion engraved in his face.

"You gonna tell me why you're in my bed, Tubbo?"

He squinted at Tommy in confusion.

"Don't you remember?" he questioned, halting between his words.

Tommy cast his mind back to the night before, specifically three in the morning, and Tubbo coming in panicking about...wings?

Oh fuck, oh yeah. His friend grew fucking wings out of his back. Oh shit.

"Tubbo, turn around" he obliged as Tommy pulled his shirt up, poking gently at the wings on Tubbo's back, they were green and already down to his lower back.

They were growing faster than Tommy's did. Unusual.

"Do you have school today?"

"No, why?"

"You can't go out like this, I have to go out so you can't borrow my coat. Not that it would fit you anyway."

"So, what?"

"So you stay here for now. Don't go out you know, that sorta stuff"

Tubbo looked disappointed

"How come you can go out?"

"The coat, duh. I can cover my wings with it, you know this, you've seen me use it."

Tubbo nodded, "I suppose we are going to have to do that for me as well?" He phrased it like a question.

"Yeah, I can show you where I got it from," he stopped and turned to Tubbo, "do you know what this means?"

"No?"

"Trenchcoat mafia!"

"Trenchcoat mafia?"

"Yeah!"

He grinned at Tubbo, he hesitantly grinned back. He seemed nervous, wings twitching underneath his shirt every now and again.

He'd need to learn to conceal that, can't have people seeing that happen in public.

He reached out, asking for permission to touch the feathers, in a similar way that Tubbo had two days ago.

Tubbo extended the wing, brushing the feathers against his fingertips as he did.

Tubbo studied the feathers, seemingly taking note of their pattern and arrangement.

"It looks like a green bee-eater's wings. I might be wrong, but this is the right shade of green."

Tubbo rambled on, Tommy listening attentively. He looked at the clock.

Oh fuck, he had forgotten about his literal fucking school.

"Shit. Tubbo I've gotta go, I'm starting a new school today. Have fun being stuck in here."

He pulls on his clothes and then shoves on his coat, running out into the hallway and skidding across the wooden floor as he makes his way into the kitchen. He grabs something small to eat before pulling his shoes on and grabbing a bag.

He shouts to Wilbur before he runs out the door, booking it down the street towards the bus stop.

He makes it just as the bus pulls up, piling on with all the other students his age. He flops into a seat, pulling out his phone and texting Tubbo, making sure he was okay after his abrupt exit.

He glances up at a disturbance. Hurrying to stand as he sees they've reached his 

stop.

Hopping off the bus, he looks around the school, for any kind of sign that would point him to reception.

He sees one, embossed in silver, pointing him in the direction of the reception.

Following the sign, he walks, trying to look confident, as if he belonged, towards reception.

Once he reaches the doors, he hesitates, then pushes it open. He walks into a well heated office, smelling of cleaning supplies.

The lady behind the desk gives him a smile, "You here for something?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm new here? Thomas?"

She frowns for a second, thinking.

"I'll check the system Thomas, have a seat."

He sat down on one of the plush armchairs, almost sinking into the cushions. The sudden give in the armchair he hadn't expected sent him reeling backwards, making him land on his wings.

He let out a hiss of pain. Causing the lady, he squinted, her name tag read Ms. Fisher, to glance up at him.

He grinned at her sheepishly, moving around and settling down in the seat.

She glances up and beckons him over. 

"So you're in the system, but you don't start classes until tomorrow. We originally planned to have one of our students, Toby, show you around but he appears to be absent today. This means that we will have to find someone else to show you around. Please wait in here until we find someone else, they will come collect you shortly"

He nodded and sat back in his chair, prepared for how soft it was and did not fall back this time.

He settled back and waited.

…

He jerked awake at a touch on his shoulder, drawing back into himself. He curled up further under the covers, using his small green wings to shelter him.

"Tubbo?" That was Wilbur, he peeked out from underneath his wings.

He saw Wilbur looking down at him with thinly veiled concern present in his eyes.

"Tubbo?" he repeated, "why are you still here? Tommy's gone out." He seemed to be completely brushing over the fact that he was literally covering himself with bright green wings.

"Tommy said I should stay here, can't really go out in public with massive wings growing out of my fucking back, can I?"

Wilbur titled his head, showing that he saw the merit to his point.

"Okay," he spoke softly, "You can stay here as long as you need."

Tubbo smiled softly and buried himself back under the duvet and his wings.

He resumed a peaceful slumber.

…

Tommy trudged through the halls of his new school, already bored out of his mind by his tour guide.

They just went on and on about useless information he didn't need to know, like the history of the school.

He had already been shown where all of his classes would be, he could go home now surely.

His feathers began to puff up, him getting more and more agitated as the tour guide kept on talking. He absently wondered if they were getting paid for this, and how much. It had to be a lot otherwise he probably wouldn't still be here.

As he was lost in his thoughts, trailing behind his tour guide they had somehow made it back to the office. 

Ms. Fisher handed him.his lanyard, it had a picture of his face on it and his student ID number. She went through the basics of how to sign in and out. She then gave him his schedule and bid him goodbye.

He walked out of the office, relishing in the way the wind bit at his face and the frost began to grip his bones.

He began the trek back to the bus stop, waiting for several minutes before a bus pulled up. 

He boarded, greeting the driver and showing his bus pass, then retreating to a seat near the centre of the bus. He settled down, feeling exhausted.

He stared out the window at the meager amount of traffic that trickled past, the midday hour having an effect on how many people were out of work and moving around. He pressed his forehead against the cool glass, watching as his breath steamed the glass up. He was tempted to draw a dick in the steam, but glancing around the bus showed that he was the only one there, he resisted the temptation.

Bringing his head off the window he blinked his eyes, trying to push back the tiredness that itched at them.

His wings itched, a deep seated itch that had settled back into his bones. He tiredly realised that he had not groomed his wings since Tubbo helped him on Saturday. He decided to ask Tubbo for assistance once he got back.

Speaking of home, the driver had just pulled up at his stop. 

Thanking the driver as he got off he walked back down his street, back to his home.

When had he begun seeing this place as his home? When had he realised that he felt safer with his friends than at his parent's house?

He shook off the thoughts,pushing his door open and soaking in the heat the house released.

He moved to his room, pulling off his coat as he went, slipping his wings out and ruffling them up before stretching them as best he could.

He entered his room, taking note of the green feathers sticking out from underneath his duvet. Tubbo was still here then, still asleep by the looks of it.

He sat down on his bed, poking Tubbo in the shoulder, startling him awake again. He allows Tubbo to sit up, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey Tubbo"

He glanced at the boy's wings, noting that they were as large as his at this point. Tubbo stretched his wings out, shifting uncomfortably as he looked over their condition. The feathers were sticking up in places and lying out of position in others.

He winced in sympathy, his wings weren't in much better condition.

"You want some help with your wings?" he offered. Tubbo glanced between his wings and Tommy, before nodding.

"I can do your wings afterwards if you want?" Tubbo hesitantly said.

Tommy eagerly accepted before turning to Tubbo's wings, beginning to reposition the feathers correctly and to free up the clumps of feathers that had gathered. He smoothed the feathers down, admiring the glossy green sheen of the wings he had preened. 

Turning his back to Tubbo he allowed him to begin to care for his wings. He relaxed, feeling the itch in his bones dissipate, replaced by a warm feeling of contentment. He felt as though any numbness lingering in his bones had been chased away by the acts of kindness his friends had shown him in the past few days.

He turned around as Tubbo finished with his wings. He lamented the loss of affection, still not used to the open affection his friends gave so freely, he would soak it up whenever he could, and feel cold when he was unable to.

"I'm so tired Tubbo," he complained, "I just want to sleep"

"Then sleep, nothing will change whilst you rest"

"Okay"

He laid back on his bed and closed his eyes tucking his wing around himself, ignoring the way Tubbo rested his wing on Tommy's.

He slept.

…

He felt the soft brush of the pastel blue sky, the winds gently buffeting his wings, lifting him higher into the air. 

He relished in the feeling of freedom that the air weaving below and around him brought.

He drifted to the side, clipping wings with another, he glanced over, startled, before he saw Tubbo, drifting along beside him. They both looked slightly startled to see the other before they relaxed and continued to drift slowly.

Tommy grinned over at Tubbo before tucking himself into a dive  feeling the wind rush past his face he let out a laugh, fanning out his wings and dropping his momentum.

He drifted, slightly below Tubbo, before the other barreled downwards coming to a halt besides Tommy.

They laughed together, drifting slightly before he began looping through the air, doing tricks and just enjoying himself. 

He looked over to Tubbo, watching the boy as he looped through the air, laughing as he relished in the wind in his hair and wings.

He tucked his wings again, and barrelled downwards, watching as Tubbo did the same, they barreled downwards towards the ground when he heard a startled shout from Tubbo.

He tried to open his wings to check on his friend,only realising that he couldn't when he saw Tubbo plummet past him, shackles binding his wings, he realised he was restrained in the same way. He tried to get closer to Tubbo, as he reached him he wrapped his arms around Tubbo holding him close.

He closed his eyes bracing for the impact, holding Tubbo tighter.

They hit the ground.

…

They shot up from the bed at the same time, gripping each other as they heaved for breath.

Chapter Text

They gripped each other, clinging onto each other with every last atom of their being.

Their wings trembled, lying out behind them, resting on the duvet beneath them as the mid-afternoon sun illuminated the dust motes in the air.

They clung to the other, finding safety within the others grasp as their whole world view was remade into their new reality.

After what felt like eons, they pulled away from each other. Looking into Tubbo's eyes he brushed against the feathers behind his ear. Tubbo's eyes widened. He reached out and touched them.

"They're green" he breathed, "how are they green?"

Tommy furrowed his brow, last he remembered they had been black and white. He pushes the hair covering Tubbo's ears back, the feathers behind his ears were almost fully grown in, the feathers coloured a deep black and blinding white.

"Your feathers look like mine, and mine look like yours" 

Bewilderment covered both their faces, this didn't make sense.

"What woke you up so suddenly anyway?" 

He turned to Tubbo, raising his eyebrow,he knew why he had woken up, he didn't know why Tubbo had.

"I had a dream, the two of us were flying, then you began to fly down fast, so I followed. Then as we gained speed, I suddenly couldn't open my wings anymore and there were binds on them. I began to plummet down to earth, you had the binds on your wings too. You hugged me until we hit the ground, then I woke up and you were awake too"

"No way," he breathed, "I had the same fucking dream." They looked at each other. They didn't know what this meant.

They sat up properly. Getting up out of the bed and shaking their wings out.

"How do you feel about going flying?" Tommy questioned.

Tubbo nodded eagerly, seemingly looking forward to going flying, despite their earlier shared dream.

He got up, pulling on his coat, looking around and finding a large hoodie he owned before handing it to Tubbo.

"This should cover your wings" he muttered, reluctant to be giving away his favourite hoodie, but doing it because he didn't feel like going to some government institution any time soon.

Pulling the hoodie over his head, Tubbo fluffed his wings up, looking rather cozy in his hoodie, making Tommy jealous.

They moved from his room, down the stairs and through the living room. He opened the front door, pulling Tubbo out behind him before shutting it.

They made their way down a street,on their way back to the glade Tommy had flown in last time.

Moving through the undergrowth he scratched his arm on a bramble, hissing as it digs in deeper. Pulling his arm from the bramble he moves onward, emerging into their glade.

Tubbo stumbles out behind him, sleeves falling over his hands and a foot stuck on a low lying vine.

Moving into the centre, Tommy shucks off his coat and takes a running leap into the air, soaring under the low canopy. He glides a bit closer to the ground where Tubbo stands, hoodie in a pile on the ground next to him.

He glides down arms out, and heaves Tubbo up off the ground. Lifting him into the air he flies a bit higher, wings slightly struggling with the extra added weight.

Reaching the tree Tommy dumps Tubbo on a sturdy looking branch.

He moves over and hovers near to the branch, waiting expectantly for Tubbo to leap off.

Tubbo glances at him, and Tommy feels a pulse of anxiety. He doesn't know where it originates from, so he shrugs it off. He watches as Tubbo pushes himself off the branch and flaps his wings down, gaining altitude as he soars into the air, coming to a rest beside him, hovering slightly unevenly in the air.

Tommy flies higher, Tubbo following close behind him, he then tucks his wings in slightly and begins to dive, only pulling up at the last second, the moment when he could see the individual blades of grass close up, their greenery glittering in the setting sun, as it casts a shadow over the glade. 

The trees grow long in the growing dark as Tommy and Tubbo twirl through the air, as graceful as dancers on a stage, their moves synchronised, as if planned.

They twirl, gliding lower, closer to the ground, before landing on the dew spattered grass, knees bending to cushion the impact of the packed soil.

Turning to Tubbo, he picks up his coat and slips it on, tucking his wings away like second nature.

Tubbo still remains rather unpracticed in concealing them away, shifting around a lot as he becomes accustomed to the new feeling.

He begins to move back through the undergrowth, rubbing his arm where the scratch is, noticing Tubbo do the same, but when he looks closer there are no physical marks marring the skin.

Tubbo looks down at his arm in confusion too, before shrugging and moving after Tommy.

He follows him out of the glade in the light of the low hanging moon. They brush through the bushes and duck under branches, as they make their way back towards the light of the streets.

The move down the tarmac road, walking with a carefree air, adrenaline still pulsing through their veins, elation making them feel giddy.

They meandered through twisting streets as they made their way back to their home. Moving down one side of the road they walk past a flickering street lamp that dies as they pass under it. 

They move down their street, under the fluorescent orange light, and knock on the solid wood door.

Wilbur flings the door open, worry etched into the lines on his face. He ushers them inside quickly. Moving down the hallway and into the longue, they pull their outerwear and shoes off, exposing their wings and shaking out the stiffness in their bones.

They move down the hallway slowly, laughing amongst themselves as they relive their evening flight.

They reach the longue, noting the sombre mood of the room, causing them to sober up slightly from their adrenaline high.

They sit down on the sofa across from Wilbur, who sighs.

"I was worried sick about you two. I come to tell you that I've made dinner and you're both just gone!" They glance at each other, feeling bad for their carelessness and how they didn't stop to think of Wilbur.

"W-We're sorry," he glances down at his hands as he clenches them into fists, "we just went out for a short flight, we didn't think we would be that long." He glances back up, shame colouring his features.

"It's fine, I'm not mad at you, I was just worried about you two."

Him and Tubbo nodded in understanding.

"Did you say something about dinner? I'm starving."

They all laugh at Tommy's statement, breaking the tension in the air.

They move to the kitchen, Wilbur reheating the food then setting it down on the table.

They begin to eat, with a new addition to their table.

Finishing his food, Tommy glances up, watching as Tubbo then Wilbur finish their food too.

He stands from the table, bringing his plate to the side and placing it down, before turning and walking to the door, gesturing for Tubbo to follow.

He moves to his room, glancing over at the lit up monitors before settling down on his bed. Tubbo moves into the room, settling down behind Tommy and beginning to preen his wings, allowing him to relax.

He leans forward as Tubbo detangles his feathers and removes any loose feathers. It felt like a relief to be rid of the itching, and as Tubbo finished he was almost lying flat on the bed.

He heaves himself from where he was laid and turned to return the favour to Tubbo. Preening his wings for him as Tubbo relaxes.

He finishes and climbs off the bed, grabbing his pyjamas and changing into them.

Grabbing his toothbrush he moves and goes to brush his teeth, returning to the room with a wet toothbrush.

He climbs into bed, laying down next to Tubbo. He then sits up and pulls out his phone, going to his previous orders and ordering a coat like his for Tubbo, in a smaller size. He sends the order off and receives an email notifying him that it will be there between eight and nine in the morning the next day. 

Finishing with that he lays back down, ducking under Tubbo's raised wing and covering them both with his own. 

They sleep.

…

They're back in the sky, but this time they're lower to the ground. He lands, moving into the trees, and running amongst the bushes.

They move around, playing hide and seek amongst the looming pines.

For flash, Tommy sees himself, from seemingly Tubbo's point of view, within a blink he's seeing out of his eyes again, but that shocks him and Tubbo enough for them to pause their game.

They sit and lean against each other at the base of a pine tree, they watch the clouds drift by, and the sky fade between blues.

They sit and stare, and talk about nothing at all. 

They awaken to a blaring alarm.

Coming to with mild panic for the school day ahead, but nowhere near the level of the night before.

…

They found out that they were going to the same school as Tommy cut Tubbo's coat for his wings to fit in.

Letting him try it on Tommy laughs as he pulls on his own.

"Trenchcoat club!"

"Trenchcoat club." Tubbo agreed.

…

They walked to the bus stop, laughing along the way, bags slung over their shoulders.

They reach the bus stop and board with the other students.

They compare their timetables and find out they're mostly in the same classes.

Tommy suddenly realised something.

"Tubbo? Do your parents know where you are?"

He hums, "Yeah, I told them I was moving in with you and Wilbur to do more video things, I said I would come back for more stuff at a later date."

"Oh, cool"

They moved off the bus as a crows, Tubbo and Tommy signed in and walked to their Media Studies class together.

Sitting in class, they sat next to each other and began to take notes once the lecture started.

Occasionally exchanging jokes and quips, they disturbed the class only once, and had to apologise to their teacher.

Leaving the room after class they stretched their arms and moved with the majority of the student body towards the canteen.

As they arrived they queued up and grabbed some food each, before retreating to a table in the corner and sitting down.

They pulled out their notes and began to talk about what they were going to do with the rest of their day as they completed their homework.

Moving back through the halls and signing out, Tommy felt glad for their shirt day as they walked through the crisp air, his breath billowing out in clouds and floating away on the breeze.

He shivered, tightening his wings around himself, and slightly regretting offering to buy groceries for Wilbur.

Him and Tubbo entered the shop, buying the items on the list, and a few extras, not that Wilbur needed to know that.

Paying for the food and bagging it up, they walked out of the shop and back towards their house.

They walked in through the door, shutting it and pulling off their coats, releasing their wings and shaking the chill from their bones.

They moved back to their room, dumping their bags into the corner.

Tommy turned his monitors on, opening minecraft and getting onto hypixel,opting to play some games to destress and relax.

He played a few rounds of bedwars and a couple games of skywars, allowing himself to shout at his screen and relax that way.

After he was finished he shut his monitors down and moved to his bed.

He lay down and groaned into a pillow

"I hate school, it's so tiring"

"Agreed"

He shoved his face further into his pillow, lying with his wings spread out around him on the duvets.

…

The evening was cold, and Tommy snuggled further into the bed, curling up closer to Tubbo, tucking their wings closer together.

He felt peaceful and so he slept.

Chapter Text

They were high in the sky, higher than they had been before. They dance through the air, their routine more familiar than before.

They drifted and felt the air tugging their feathers. 

It pulled them in a certain direction, and they followed, moving along the air currents they climbed higher in altitude. Rising up and up, above the clouds. So close to the sky that Tommy felt like he could touch the stars.

Trailing his hand through the clouds, he watches as the water vapour separates and condenses, falling to the earth below.

They are pulled higher, moreso following than flying at this point. They emerge from the cloud cover, coming to a halt, hovering in the air, wings flapping. They glance to the other eyes wide, before swooping onwards, lower down and gliding towards what had made them halt. 

They move closer, twirling around the spires, coming to a rest at the top of the tower.

He spreads his wings to keep his balance, watching as Tubbo hovers nearby, surveying the building below him.

He flaps his wings and takes off, diving downwards and pulling up as he reaches the doorway.

Tubbo lands next to him with a small thud. They glance at each other, no need for verbal communication in this realm.

They move as one, in through the door and into an entryway.

They move through the halls, gazing at tapestries of those like them, wings sprouting from their back, the colours varying between each one.

The halls are adorned with colour and chandeliers, the carpets plush and rolling, the deep red of the material reflecting the light from the crystal chandeliers.

They tread delicately over the carpet, feeling as if they did not belong. They move through the labyrinth esque halls, twisting and turning closer to the centre.

They reach a pair of large oak doors, not hesitating before pushing the doors open. 

They step into the centre of the castle. Stopping and staring in wonder at the throne room before them. The thrones sit, regally side by side, plush and comfortable, adorned in jewels and gems, coated in silver and gold.

At the centre of the room, an orb hangs, mist swirling within it.

Tommy touches its surface with reverence, flinching back as the surface begins to move and change, forming different colors and shapes, warping the scene it pictured.

It changes to an old fashioned looking town, the buildings wooden and rickety, the people surrounding them looking similar to the skeletons of their houses. They move slowly, dressed in the clothing of a medieval peasant. He realised with a start that this was most likely during the medieval age.

His eyes are drawn to a regal looking person, they wore a long cloak, their hood up concealing their face. They glance around before moving into an alleyway. The view moves in after them.

He watches as they remove their hood and cloak, raising regal owl wings above their head, before taking off into the air.

Darting up and out of the alleyway, above the clouds before anyone could spot them. Their view follows behind, Tubbo having moved close to his shoulder, watching the orb as it moves after the winged person.

They fly towards the castle, the one they are currently in, landing as they reach the gates, guards standing either side.

They talk before they open the gate, letting him in, he rushes through bustling halls, halls which they had wandered through, disturbing dust that had laid there for a long time.

They reached the throne room, the king and queen sat upon their thrones, seemingly awaiting his arrival. He scrapes himself into a hurried bow, before straightening up and beginning to speak.

He talks of the humans below, and how they envy those with wings being able to reach the riches of the skies.

The king scoffs at this, responding how the wings are a chance every human has to grow, and that if they don't, they are not a winged. 

The messenger hurries to agree, stating how thankful he is for his wings, before admiring the king's own. The king luxuriously stretches his wings behind him, revealing them to be a scarlet macaws. His wife nudges shim with her own, her pale wings of a pigeon contrasting his bright colours and complimenting them wonderfully.

The messenger continues to say that they need to move away from here, as the humans plan on staging an attack in their sanctuary.

The king scoffs again, deeming it impossible. The queen looks worried, glancing over to the king, before beginning to speak up about her concerns.

The king silences her, saying she can leave if she so wishes.

She stands from her throne, replacing her crown on the seat.

Tommy glances back over to the throne, to the one he now knows as the queens, and there on the seat, sits her crown, tarnished by time.

He glances back to the orb, watching as the queen leaves, wings spread out behind her.

She stops just before she leaves the room, telling the king his own pride would kill them all.

They watch as she leaves, flying from the castle. 

Time seems to speed up, the clouds swirling past, growing darker as the months pass.

They watch as the castle is invaded, the killers, small and sneaky, killing the king where he sat on his throne, causing the others to scatter.

They take his body and pass his wings around as trophy, selling his gems for coin.

He backs away, horrified by what humans had done to their kind,wondering how differently his life could have gone if he had this safe haven in the sky.

He steps backwards again, moving further away from the gory scene ahead of him, as he does so he begins to fall, Tubbo reaching after him, as he plummets closer to the ground.

He watches as Tubbo dives after him and closes his eyes. Ready for the impact of the soil.

…

He shoots up in bed, gasping for breath as he calms down from his fall.

He sits there as Tubbo wakes up too, brushing his hand over the others wing to let him know he was there.

They sit, and think over what has happened, processing a mystery they had never thought they'd solve.

He sits and stares at his hands, then his wings, the black feathers near invisible in the dark of the night.

He thinks of how they make him a target, he might as well have a target on his back asking for people to kill him. It would be the same thing anyway.

He tucks his wings behind him, shifting as he watches Tubbo do the same, his normally iridescent green feathers, dulled to a darker forest green.

They look to the other, turning their thoughts over in their head, and their words in their mouth.

"That was something," he decides to break the silence.

"It was indeed," Tubbo responds, "surely, surely there are others out there? Others like us? We can't be the only two left, right?"

He brings his friend closer, who feels more like a brother now.

"No, I'm sure there are others like us out there, they're probably just hiding. Like us."

Tubbo nods into his shirt, wings pulled back behind him, tightly held against his back.

"At least we know why we exist now. We just don't know how."

Tommy nods in response.

"I guess that's enough for me, it's enough for me" he says, laying back down and staring at the ceiling.

Imagining stars in place of the pockmarked plaster, and a sky in the walls.

He smiles to himself, it's a nice thought, the sky surrounding him, holding him in its embrace.

He'd like that he thinks.

A place among the stars.

A place to dip and twirl, moving between the things that created his very being, to exist outside of time, and to just be.

To not worry about being found, to just be able to be free.

He looks to Tubbo, seeing a similar sort of look cross his face.

He smiles, knowing he has a brother, in everything but flesh and bone, who would stand beside him no matter what.

He knew he had Tubbo's back, and that Tubbo had his.

It was a nice feeling.

He turned to Tubbo.

"Do you think we could have a home among the stars?"

"I think we always have Tommy, that place in the sky just confirmed what I believed. This wasn't a mistake. It was a choice."

He nodded, "We chose our place among them the day they chose us"

He was content with that notion, laying back down and spreading his wings.

He felt free from the binds that restricted him in his sleep.

He felt free.

He knew how he existed, he had Tubbo on his side, and he had a place in the world.

Tommy was content.

He closed his eyes, welcoming the stars to a home in his mind.

Chapter Text

He moved through his new house, glancing into the rooms along the hallway as he padded over soft carpeted floors.

It was different from Wilbur's house, the place he had spent the last two years, as he finished school and became more adapted to his new way of living life.

He moved into the room he had claimed as his own, removing his coat as he did so.

He shook his wings out, relishing in the strength he could feel in them. They were much stronger than they had been when they had first grown. He had been flying almost every day, causing the muscles to develop as his flying skills did.

The glossy sheen covering the black and white feathers was due to his rigorous care of them, he would preen them twice per day, making sure they were in near perfect condition before even going anywhere.

He heard the front door open and close again, Tubbo's voice echoing through the halls as he chatted with Phil and Wilbur.

They had come over to throw a housewarming party, or whatever that is.

He moved back down the hallway, not bothering with the coat. 

He still remembers the first time Phil saw his wings, they thought they were going to have to call an ambulance, he looked to be a few breaths away from a heart attack.

They were able to laugh about it now, but Tommy remembers everyone's panic at the situation at the time.

It had been fine though, everyone was fine and everyone was here.

He entered his new longue, the sofas looking brand new despite being second hand.

Phil and Wilbur have already settled down, and Tubbo had grabbed drinks for the four of them.

Tommy moved into the room fully, leaping over the back of the sofa to land in between Phil and Wil, almost making them spill their drinks.

"Christ, Tommy! You scared the life outta me!" Phil protested as Tommy wheezed.

"Gonna have another heart attack old man?" He teased.

Phil shoved him lightly in the shoulder as he began to laugh, Wilbur and Tubbo joining in not too long after.

Tommy began to tend to his wings,the feathers slightly ruffled from where they had been in his coat.

As he preens them, he listens to the conversation around him, occasionally adding his own opinion on the matters they discussed.

He made a few jokes, most of which the others found funny, one which they did not. It was apparently 'too morbid' and 'Tommy that is something that literally happened to us'.

So yeah, that one didn't land, but he shrugged it off, eager to check out the forest practically in their back garden.

He itched to get out there and fly, knowing their house was extremely secluded.

That was one of the reasons they bought it after all.

He tugged on Tubbo's arm, dragging him outside and into the forest behind.

Phil and Wilbur followed them out, watching as they took off into the air.

They moved through the steps of their well trodden routine, spiraling on the breeze and allowing the sky to brush their feathers.

They landed, laughing, high off the adrenaline it gifts them.

They stumble inside, like a pair of drunk teenagers, and begin to preen each other's wings.

They've become so accustomed to it that they can do it with their eyes closed. Sorting their wings they lie down, watching as Phil and Wilbur bustle around, moving cutlery into their drawers, before Wilbur asks them what they want for dinner,  as Tommy takes everyone's orders and moves away to call their local takeaway, the others gather in their longue, in front of the television as they decide what to watch.

They sit, in the warmth of their home, warmed not just by their heating, but the people inside of it.

They sit with their family, not the one they were given, but the one that they had found themselves.

They were proud of the family that they had made.

It was theirs.

And that was how they liked it.

Chapter Text

I forgot to mention this before, but I have begun to rewrite this fic, just in case anyone still subscribed wants to read how that's progressing.

It's not finished yet, it has two chapters so far (as of 21/06/21)

I'm planning on adding stuff to it and just making it better than the first time around.

If you do decide to read it, I hope you enjoy it :D

((The rewrite is part of the Wingin' It Series below))