Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Night had settled over the house, cooling the rafters and the floorboards. Creaks and groans echoed through the halls and corners of the home, and while most might find the sounds unsettling, to Tommy and Tubbo, they meant freedom. At this time of night, all the humans would be asleep, as well as their older brother. And with no supervision, it was time to play.

Tommy peered through the slats of the vent at the red glow of the kitchen clock far below. It read 2:47. He grinned. “Clear!” he yelled and ran back down the vent, his shoes thudding against the metal sheeting and causing an echo. Tommy ducked into the doorway they’d carved in the vent and back into the labyrinth of tunnels and ladders that navigated the walls and floors of the house.

“Tommy,” Tubbo hissed, clutching the straps of his pack and glancing over his shoulder. “You’re being too loud.”

Tommy snorted. “I wasn’t that loud. Besides, the human's on the other side of the house.” Phil, the older human, was asleep in his room. Techno, the younger adult was out at work, and Wilbur their brother was sound asleep and none the wiser to their nocturnal adventure.

“I know, but still.” Tubbo said. “Well whatever. No harm I suppose. Let’s go.”

The boys made their way to the ladder nailed into the nearest support beam. Tommy remembered Wilbur working for almost a week to install it. It had been back when he and Tubbo had been too young to help with that sort of thing, and too young to be left alone. Wilbur had brought them to the place with his old lantern, told them in his best big brother voice to stay, and spent hours working, all the while keeping an eye on them. He’d had to juggle his climbing gear, the staples he needed for the rungs, and his tool set all while babysitting. It was almost enough to make Tommy feel guilty about being such a handful at the time. Almost.

Tommy dropped the final two rungs. His climbing gear and tools clattering on his belt as he landed, and he plucked his lantern from where it hung on his belt.

The house creaked in the cool night air as they reached their kitchen entrance. Like all the entrances into the main home, this door was carefully hidden. It was tucked in the little indent under the cabinets. Their door was a panel, only three inches across, and looked like every other decorative panel that was regularly spaced in the carpentry. But this one had handholds on the interior for little borrowers to push the panel open or pull it back into place.

Tubbo set his hands on the handles of the door and looked expectantly at Tommy. Tommy raised the lantern and blew out the small flame inside. Darkness fell over them for moment before the scrape of wood on wood sounded and a sliver of dim moonlight appeared as Tubbo opened the door. Tommy hung the lantern back on his belt and they stepped through the doorway.

Tubbo set the panel back against the gap, only leaning it against the wall, not seating it properly. It would look strange if any of the humans looked closely, but it would provide a quick escape while staying fairly concealed.

Tommy ran out of the alcove and into the giant echoing space of the kitchen. The ceiling hung what felt like miles above them, and the kitchen appliances hummed softly, making the space seem even larger.

Tubbo ran after him with a snort and they made a bee-line to the refrigerator.

At the foot of the giant gleaming machine Tubbo snatched his grapple from his belt and spun the hook. “Beat you to the top!”

Tommy, already anticipating their favorite game, had started his spin only a second behind Tubbo. “Like to see you try, bitch!”

With a grunt, Tubbo threw his hook. It arched high, catching on the magnet halfway up the fridge. “First try!” Tubbo crowed, yanking his string to ensure its stability.

“Only cause you got the easy one!” Tommy growled. There were only a few magnets that could hold their weight, and the bird-shaped one Tubbo had hooked was the easiest to latch onto. Tommy threw his hook, aiming for the clip-magnet, and glaring when his hook came clattering back down to the tile.

Tubbo stuck out his tongue, fed his line through his climbing gear and began hauling himself up.

It took Tommy three more tries and plenty of swearing before he was hauling himself up the side of the refrigerator.

They both had to re-hook their lines when they reached their current magnets, and hook the top ridge of the freezer door. Tubbo won, but they both hauled themselves up panting and sweating from the climb. For a minute, they just sat on the edge of the freezer door, their feet dangling over the drop.

“Right,” Tommy said, pushing himself to his feet, “I’m starving. Let’s do this.” He offered Tubbo a hand and hauled him to his feet. Together they collected the chopstick and rope they’d hidden on the back of the refrigerator, behind the dusty water bottles. Tubbo grinned at Tommy through one of them, his expression stretched into a grotesque smile by the warped plastic. Tommy guffawed before grinning back. After a minute of giggles they refocused and hauled the chopstick to the freezer door. They attached the rope at the base of the chopstick before Tubbo held it point down into the seal while Tommy ran with the rope back to the package of bottles. When looped around a bottle, the rope and chopstick made a decent pulley system.

Tommy pulled the rope tight, wedging the chopstick in place. “Ready!’

Tubbo, seeing the chopstick steady, ran to Tommy and gripped the rope beside him. “Three, two, one!” On one, they pulled, straining for a few seconds before the freezer door popped open and the chopstick clattered down, now dangling from the rope. Tubbo tied the rope off, which kept the chopstick in place and the freezer door from sealing shut again.

Pulling out their hooks once again, they snuck through the cracked door and into the misty cold of the freezer. They both knew Wilbur would have a heart attack if he found out what they were up to. There were many horror stories of borrowers that had gotten stuck in freezer, and ended up dying of the cold. But Tommy and Tubbo knew they were smarter than that. Hence the midnight excursion.

Soon enough they had the lid of the ice cream open and took out big scoops of the chocolate treat. Tubbo had brought two spoons, knowing Tommy wouldn't remember his. Ice cream was something borrowers simply couldn’t make. It took to much machinery, which is why it was such a special treat, and why they regularly snuck out to get some.

They sat by the door to try to escape some of the chill, and ate.

“Hmmm,” Tubbo said. “I’m glad they got chocolate this time. I missed chocolate.”

Tommy squinted at the ice cream. “Yeah I guess so. But I prefer the coffee stuff.”

Tubbo laughed. “Since when? I know you like sweets just as much as me and the coffee stuff only makes you hyper!”

“Not only that!” Tommy said and puffed up his chest. “Big men like me like coffee.”

“Sure, sure.” Tubbo said.

They sat and ate ice-cream until they were so cold their fingers shook. When they couldn’t stand it anymore, they stomped the ice-cream lid back onto its container and climbed out of the freezer.

Just like they planned, they closed the freezer and stowed the chopstick and rope away. Just like they planned they descended the fridge. Just like they planned Phil never woke and Techno didn’t come home. And just like they planned they snuck back into the cabinet walls and to their own smaller home. The door swung shut behind them with a creak and the boys exchanged conspiratorial grins.

Unlike they planned, Wilbur was waiting for them in the living room with a dangerous smile, arms crossed, and a sharp look in his eyes. “Now, where have you two been at this time of night?”

Tommy and Tubbo froze.

Chapter Text

Wilbur paced the living room, bags under his eyes and his hair a wild mess. Tommy and Tubbo sat on the couch, exchanging the occasional nervous glance. Wilbur finally stopped. “How long has this been going on?”

Tommy and Tubbo shared a guilty look.

“Well?” Wilbur snapped.

“Uh. About a  . . .  about a year,” Tubbo said with a wince.

“A year!?” Wilbur yelled, his face growing red. “You’ve been sneaking out like this for a year?”

“Well not every night,” Tommy said, crossing his arms, “obviously.”

Wilbur nailed him with a glare.

Tommy shifted and glanced away. “Maybe once a month. It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal!” Wilbur waved a hand at the ceiling. “You could have been seen! You could have been hurt! For fucks sake you both could have been trapped in the freezer and I wouldn’t have been able to find you until-“ Wilbur cut himself off and pressed his palms to his eyes.

He took a deep breath and lowered his hands. “Bedtime. Both for you. We’ll take about this more in the morning, and you’re not to leave the house until we do. Am I clear?”

Tubbo and Tommy nodded, slinking off to their bedroom. Their bedroom was split down the middle, with Tommy on the left side and Tubbo on the right. Tommy’s side had a desk strewed with little springs, pieces of glass, and other odds and ends he’d found. He had a red feather he’d found outside pinned to his wall. Tubbo’s side was far neater, with scraps of paper that contained his blueprints for various building projects. An old piece of honeycomb leaned against the desk.

They removed their tool belts and hung them up in silence before falling into their beds.

After a few minutes Tubbo broke the silence. “He seemed pretty mad this time, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tommy snorted. “No shit.”

They’d been yelled at by Wilbur before. They were too chaotic a duo not to have gotten in trouble in the past, but it was usually more minor trouble. Fighting with each other, exploring a little too far from the house, and other, smaller offenses had gotten them in trouble over the years, but one thing Wilbur had always been unwavering on was the need to stay away from humans. He’d always insisted that they only borrow at night, and with his supervision in most cases. The only time Wilbur had broken this rule had been when Tubbo had been bitten by a fire ant.

Tubbo’s arm had swelled up to twice its normal size and he’d struggled to breath. Tommy had hauled him back to their home. Wilbur had taken one look at them and sprinted to his climbing gear. They didn’t have any Benadryl at the time and Wilbur had to make a mad dash to the bathroom to borrow some. It had been noon and both Phil and Techno had been home and awake.

Tommy had sat on the couch shaking and holding a gasping Tubbo until Wilbur had returned, pale and sweating with a bottle of Benadryl he’d nearly thrown at Tubbo. They kept a small bin of the medicine in storage now.

“He’ll probably ground us for a week and be done with it,” Tommy said, not really believing it.

“Hmm,” Tubbo sounded unconvinced.

They fell into and uneasy sleep.

- - - - - - - - -

Wilbur pushed his hair back from his face and fell back onto the living room sofa. His thoughts chased themselves round in his head. How many times had he missed the boys leaving? How many close calls had there been? How could he not have noticed for a whole year?!

He knew the boys didn’t understand how dangerous their world could be. They’d gotten lucky with this house and its humans. When they’d first arrived, Tommy and Tubbo had only been five, and Wilbur didn’t have the luxury of time to be too picky about the house they settle in. The wilds were full of dangers, and a simple move a few houses down the street had nearly killed them.

But this house had been good; it had all the things borrowers looked for and lacked all the things they avoided. There were no pets to worry about, which was the reason Wilbur had passed the first three houses they found. No young children, which often caused parents to be hyper-vigilant to oddities in the home, not to mention the cruelty and curiosity of human kids. There was plenty of food in the house and thanks to Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo it was free of pests, so no exterminator had ever been called.

The humans themselves, Techno and Phil, were fine. They didn’t throw parties and were pretty relaxed all around. But that didn’t mean Wilbur liked them, just that he didn’t actively fear them like he had others. They were still dangers to be avoided. Wilbur thought it must be something like the way human's regarded zoo animals. You could admire them, like them even, but you never stepped into the enclosure. Tommy and Tubbo didn’t understand that. Sure, they were weary of the giants, but they didn’t understand how bad humans could be. Wilbur did.

Wilbur pushed himself to his feet. He had to be firm on this. He’d have to give them some kind of punishment that would be serious. Maybe he’d ground them? No sweets for a month? Those felt too trivial, but Wilbur didn’t know what else he could do. Tommy and Tubbo were getting older, and discipline was getting trickier. Knowing Tommy no matter what he did the kid would see it as a challenge and might run off even more often!

Wilbur sighed. He should sleep. Tomorrow he’d have to decide what to do and borrow more plastic from grocery bags. There was a leak in the passage near the edge of the house and he needed to patch it before the wood started rotting.

With a sigh Wilbur blew out the living room light and went to his room. He kicked off his boots and fell into bed. It was a long time before he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

“I propose a compromise,” Wilbur said. He, Tommy and Tubbo had gathered at the dining table for breakfast and eaten in uncomfortable silence before Wilbur made his decision.

Wilbur set down his fork and leaned forward. “You will not borrow without my permission from now on.” Seeing Tommy open his mouth to protest Wilbur raised his voice. “That is non-negotiable. However, I will allow the occasional ice cream borrowing, with my supervision. And you will both be banned from this for two months as punishment.”

Tubbo nodded. “I think that sounds fair.”

“Fair?” Tommy scoffed. “Wilbur, we’re not babies! We can borrow by ourselves just fine, you know that.”

Wilbur pointed at Tommy. “I let you borrow the easy, safe, shit on your own. A freezer raid is neither safe nor easy. And as I said, this is not a debate. Keep arguing and I’ll say you can’t borrow by yourself ever, and no ice cream at all.”

Tommy glared at Wilbur, his cheeks red, but Wilbur had that look on that told Tommy he wasn’t bluffing.

“Fine,” Tommy bit out.

“Lovely,” Wilbur said, his smile too sweet. “I’m glad we could agree.”

Tommy finished his breakfast with more aggression than necessary before stomping on his way to the sink.

“He’ll get over it,” Tubbo told Wilbur once Tommy was out of earshot.

“I know,” Wilbur said. Tommy’s anger burned hot and fast, but not long. “If you and Tommy could check the east exit I would appreciate it. Just clear out any pests you find and make sure the door still seals.”

Tubbo stood with his clean plate. “Of course. It’ll be a good use of Tommy’s aggression if we find some spiders.”

“Be careful,” Wilbur said as Tubbo exited the dining room.

“Always,” Tubbo said.

Wilbur rolled his eyes at the lie and stood. He needed to prepare for his borrowing session tonight.

- - - - - - - - -

Tommy spun his needle in one hand before stabbing the cockroach at his feet. It twitched and flailed for a moment before going still. Tommy wrinkled his nose, planted his boot on the bug's shell, and pulled his needle free.

“Well that was pretty easy,” Tubbo said, returning his own needle to his belt. The passage only had one spider and one cockroach. Which was fine by Tubbo.

“Boring more like,” Tommy said. “Let’s check to door and get going.”

Together Tubbo and Tommy knelt by the hatch in the floor. They each grabbed a side and pulled. The wooden panel lifted with a soft pop and revealed the dim void below; the crawlspace under the house. Tommy kicked the corpse of the roach into the space, watching it spin down to the dirt below.

“I wanna go down,” Tommy said, already reaching for his grapple.

“What? Why?” Tubbo asked.

“Bored,” Tommy said. He knelt down and set his hook on the wood framing the open trap door and gave it a good stomp to get it seated in the wood. “Besides, you’d get to visit Pog.”

Tubbo, who been about to suggest they don’t explore the dangerous crawlspace right after getting a lecture from Wilbur, nodded. “Okay, let's go.”

They both grappled down into the space below. After Tubbo’s feet hit dirt he unclipped the rope from his belt and left it to hang. Tommy did the same.

“Now,” Tubbo said, looking around the space, “where is Pog?”

They climbed up a mound of dirt in order to get a better view. As they did, the bang of the front door opening and closing distracted them. They were right next to the wooden porch at the front of the house. Footsteps thudded across the deck above.

“Must be Phil,” Tubbo said. Techno would be sleep at this time of day.

They watched a pair of worn sneakers descend the steps and walk down the driveway. The roar of a car started up.

Tommy sighed. “Now would be a good time to borrow.”

Tubbo elbowed him. “I’m not risking my ice cream runs because of your impatience. Come on. Help me find Pog.”

Tubbo scanned the mounds of damp dirt, squinting at the occasional dusty flower pot or clump of weeds.

“There,” he yelled and took off down the dirt mound. At the base of the upturned flower pot Tubbo grinned and fell to his knees. “Pat, pat.” Pog, the frog, stared back unblinking as Tubbo pat the top of his head. Most frogs would avoid borrowers, but this one seemed to tolerate them.

Tommy grinned at the frog. “How’s it goin Pog?” The frog stared blankly ahead. “Sounds thrilling.”

“Oh, I bet he’d eat the cockroach!” Tubbo said. He ran back in the direction they’d come.

They spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince Pog to eat the dead roach, but the frog didn’t so much as look at the bug. This launched a debate on whether or not frogs ate roaches, or if the bug being dead was the problem. About three minutes after the bickering started, Pog made the first movement since their arrival, and hopped away.

Chapter Text

Wilbur leaned against the vent wall, listening to the muffled rustle and footfalls of Techno getting ready for work. Phil was already asleep so the human was doing his best to be quiet, but even the quietest of human footfalls were loud to Wilbur’s ears.

A rattle of keys and the creak of the door signaled Techno’s departure. Wilbur waited a minute for the distant rumble of the car starting before pushing off from the vent wall and beginning his descent.

Tommy and Tubbo waited for him at the kitchen entrance, lanterns already dimmed and panel open.

“Alright then, ready?” Wilbur asked. The boys nodded and they stepped into the kitchen.

“I’m going to get the plastic,” Wilbur said. “You two are going to get salt.” Wilbur with drew a small cloth sack from his backpack and handed it to Tubbo.

“Can we get cinnamon too?” Tubbo asked.

Wilbur frowned, looking thoughtfully at the open pantry. The salt was on the second shelf, but cinnamon was on the fifth.

“Come on Wilbur,” Tommy said. “We’re going up two shelves, three more won’t make much of a difference.”

Wilbur sighed and handed over a second smaller bag. “Fine, fine.” He knew he needed to let them do some things by themselves, and it was better if he was nearby for it.

“Woooh,” Tubbo whisper-yelled and the boys ran off towards the pantry.

Wilbur smiled as they left and turned to face the other way. The kitchen was attached to the living room, the counter separating the two. Facing into the living room with his back to the kitchen, the laundry room door was just a few feet away on the right wall. Across from it on the other side of the living room was the hallway to the bedrooms and bathrooms. Directly across from him was the front door.

Wilbur hugged the right wall, his pace slowing as he stepped off the tile and onto the carpet. He stayed under the book shelves that lined the walls and emerged in front of the laundry room.

Luckily, the washing machine was off, which would make Wilbur’s climb a bit easier. Unfortunately, the smooth metal of the machine meant he couldn't grapple up onto it. From his pack he withdrew four strips of doubled sided sticky tape and two bent paperclips.

He stuck two pieces of tape to his boots, and the second pair onto the paperclip frames. He began his climb. It was a slow process, placing his feet one at a time followed by tugging off the handholds one at a time to reposition them before hauling himself up to repeat the process.

Wilbur pulled himself over the top of the machine, left his handhelds where they stuck, pulled off his boots, and laid back to catch his breath and enjoy the cool metal beneath him. He only gave himself a moment before pushing himself back up. He left his boots at the edge in order to preserve the sticking power of the tape as much as possible. His socks were slippery against the metal.

Wilbur reached the plastic bag full of other plastic bags stowed on the back corner against the wall. Phil and Techno collected them until they reached a ridiculous amount before actually recycling them, so Wilbur knew they wouldn’t miss a few.

Wilbur yanked one of the bags free from the mess and wrestled it into a somewhat flat position. Drawing his knife from his belt, a carved piece of rat bone, and started cutting sheets from the plastic. He made sure the pieces were irregularly shaped. It wouldn’t do for Phil or Techno to wonder why perfect squares were missing from the bags if they happened to check. This way the holes could be dismissed as tears.

The plastic rustled and stuck to itself as Wilbur folded the sheets and tucked them away in his pack. By the third his hair crackled with static.

Wilbur was cutting out the sixth piece of plastic when he froze. He listened. Pipes creaked in the walls, in the distance the fridge hummed, and the living room clock ticked softly. Beyond it all the rumble of a car grew louder.

Techno and Phil had a long driveway. It wasn’t strange to hear cars in the distance, but this one was close and getting closer.

Wilbur scrambled to his feet and shoved the bag he’d been cutting back into the pile. Techno had left roughly an hour ago. Why would he be back already? Wilbur's socks slid on the metal and he tripped as he ran to his backpack, swinging it onto his back and running for his boots and gear.

By the time he got his shoes on the car was idling in front of the house. Wilbur risked a look over his shoulder as he started his climb back down. He'd expected to see beams of light coming in through the window blinds, but windows of the living room were dark. Techno always used his headlights, and the oddity made Wilbur even more nervous. The rumble of the car died, leaving an eerie silence behind.

Wilbur climbed down as fast as he could, hoping Tommy and Tubbo had heard the car too and were doing likewise. He listened hard past the sound of his own breathing and the rip of tape on metal for some other sound, but heard none.

At the bottom of the laundry machine, Wilbur tore the the tape off his feet and stuffed it and his handholds back into his pack, uncaring if the tape sealed to the plastic. He sprinted out of the laundry room and toward the kitchen just as a pair of footsteps sounded on the porch outside.

Then another set of footsteps followed. Wilbur’s mind spun, trying to figure out why two—no three people now—were on the porch, but he shoved the growing panic and confusion aside.

Wilbur reached the kitchen, catching sight of Tommy and Tubbo scrambling out of the pantry.

“Hide! Now!” Wilbur hissed, waving them towards their kitchen entrance. A clicking came from the front door, not the usual clatter of keys in the lock, as Tubbo and Tommy ducked onto the safety of their tunnels. Wilbur hesitated, a thought creeping up on him.

“Wil,” Tommy hissed. “Get in here dammit.”

“Stay there,” Wilbur said, throwing his pack at Tommy and creeping back towards the edge of the cabinets. If he stayed under the little over hang in the cabinets, he’d be able to look around the corner and into the living room in relative safety. Whoever was coming in wouldn’t be able to see him in the dark, but he’d get a better idea of who was entering.

He knelt at the edge, peered around to see the front door. Through the window, he could see one figure, standing still. Two hushed voices came from the other side of the door as the handle rattled and jerked.

“What’s going on,” Tommy said in Wilbur’s ear.

“Fuck!” Wilbur flinched in surprise. “I told you to stay there.”

Tommy shrugged. “Got bored.”

Tubbo peaked out from behind Tommy. “Thats not Techno, is it?”

Just as Wilbur opened his mouth to answer, the front door swung open. Wilbur pushed Tommy and Tubbo back a step as he glared at the door.

Three humans stepped inside, silent, and wearing masks, all but confirming Wilbur’s suspicions. It was a burglary.

“Back inside, now,” he whispered.

They all ran back to the tunnels, sealing the panel behind them.

“Who are they?” Tubbo asked.

“Burglars,” Wilbur said. “We’re gonna stay here until they leave. We’ll be fine.”

Tommy frowned. “What about Phil? They might hurt him.”

“Phil will be—“ Wilbur shut his mouth. The robbers would probably grab the TV and leave, but there was the chance they’d hurt the human. Wilbur ignored the spark of discomfort he felt at the thought. Phil was a human and wasn’t Wilbur’s responsibility, but if Phil did get hurt, it would throw off the household schedules. Hell, Phil and Techno might leave the house for good and then Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo wouldn't have any food until a new family moved in. And when a new family did arrive, who knew what dangers might come with them. They could have pets, or kids, or hire an inspector for the home which might get them discovered. Phil and Techno were good humans to live with, and Wilbur didn’t want to loose that. Wilbur did his best not to acknowledge the wave of dread he felt at the thought that these people might even kill Phil.

“Okay. Okay,” Wilbur said. “You two go home. I’m going to wake up Phil.”

“What!” Tubbo and Tommy yelled. They both started talking over each other, asking what he meant, how would he do that, what was he thinking.

“Shhh!” Wilbur hissed, waving at them to shut up. “I’m not going to fucking jump on him, I’m just going set off his alarm clock.” Phil and Techno both kept alarm clocks by their beds, though they usually used their phones to set alarms. Wilbur wasn’t exactly sure how he’d make the alarm go off, he wasn’t familiar with the buttons, but he was sure he could figure it out.

“We don’t have time,” Wilbur said. Their entire conversation had been backed by the muffled scrapes, hushed voices, and thuds of the robbers in the living room. “Go home.” Wilbur turned and ran before waiting to see if the boys obeyed. It was a decent distance to the entrance they’d carved into Phil’s room, and he didn’t think they had a lot of time. Wilbur ran across beams and rounded a few corners before reaching the other end of the house.

Wilbur slid to a stop at the mess of wires that marked the outlet in the corner of Phil’s room. They’d removed the screws that kept the plastic cover in place a while ago, and used it as a door into Phil’s bedroom. They rarely needed it, but it was still handy. Wilbur gave the plastic a good shove, knocking it out of place and creating a gap for him to slip through. He only gave the room the briefest check, seeing Phil in bed and breathing softly, before sprinting for his bedside table.

With shaking hands Wilbur took his grapple from his belt and spun the hook on the end, his eyes snapping to the bedroom door at ever slight creak or bump. He threw the hook.

It caught.

Wilbur blew out a long breath and tugged the hook to make sure it held and began his climb. He didn’t bother feeding the rope into his climbing belt, it would take too long.

By the time Wilbur reached the top he was gasping for breath, but didn’t allow himself a break. He snatched up the hook, rolling up the rope as he ran to the clock. Wilbur gave Phil’s sleeping form a weary look as he clambered onto the clock, its red numbers glowing in the dark. Phil had his face pressed into the pillow, leaving only his hand and a mess of blond hair visible.

Wilbur had to squint to make out the lettering on the buttons in the dark. There was a switch on one side, a giant button in the middle, and two much smaller buttons on the right. The time read 1:44.

Deciding the worst he could do was mess up the set time, Wilbur started by stomping on the mode button. The red letters changed to read 'alarm.' That meant he should set the alarm time, right? Wilbur stomped the H button until the clock red 1:00, then the M button until it read 1:44. The numbers started flashing.

Wilbur paused. There was no sort of enter button. Should he hit the giant bar? He raised his foot to do so.

The loud blare of the alarm startled Wilbur and shattered hiss balance. He fell back off the clock, covering his ears on instinct. He could feel the sound vibrating in his lungs.

Phil groaned, shifted and reached out with a fumbling hand for the clock.

Wilbur paled and scrambled to his feet. He hadn’t planned on where to hide. The only other items on the table were a lamp, a wallet, and phone. He sprinted for the lamp.

Phil’s hand stretch-out to hit the alarm clock, just brushing Wilbur’s side as he passed. It knocked him off his feet for a moment, but he pushed himself back into a run and ducked behind the lamp just as the alarm cut off.

Wilbur pressed his back against the base of the lamp and covered his mouth. His breath sounded too loud in the sudden silence, but his lungs screamed for air. The lamp’s base was thin, only three inches across. All Phil would have to do was look from a slightly different angle and Wilbur would be spotted.

“What the hell?” Phil’s tired voice said not three feet away. There was a clatter. Phil must have picked up the clock.

Then the muffled thuds and the sound of voices from the living room reached their ears. Wilbur heard Phil breath in sharply.

The bed rattled as Phil sat upright. “What the hell?” This time instead of annoyance his voice was tinged with fear.

Out of the corner of his eye Wilbur saw Phil’s hand reaching for his phone. But the man was still half asleep and he knocked his hand into the lamp shade. The lamp shook and Wilbur clenched his eyes shut as it wobbled back into place.

Cloth rustled, growing quieter as it move toward the door. The door shut with a soft thud and the lock clicked into place.

A dim glow coming from the direction of the door lit the wall. Phil must have turned on his phone.

“Oh shit,” a muffled voice came from the living room. “Someone’s here.”

The phone started ringing as Phil yelled, “I’m calling the police so you’d better fuck off.”

No one answered but the muffled thuds from the living room suddenly grew more frantic and then the front door shut and the house went silent.

Phil listen off the house’s address as the car roared to life and pealed out of the driveway. Wilbur jerked as Phil flicked the light on, blinking as the room came into focus. Phil strode to the window and into Wilbur's field of view. Wilbur silently shuffled to the left to get out of sight.

‘Please leave,’ Wilbur thought. ‘Go check your stuff, or the front door, or something!’ His hands shook. All he needed was a minute to grapple down off the bedside table and hide behind it until he could return to the outlet. At the thought of the outlet Wilbur’s stomach lurched. He’d forgotten to set the outlet back in place. But Phil was distracted. Surely he wouldn’t notice.

After what felt like hours of waiting for the police, red and blue light flashed out side the window. Phil said something into the phone before leaving the room.

Wilbur made himself count to ten before making a mad dash to the edge of the table. He slammed the hook of his grapple into place and nearly threw himself over the side of the table. The rope burned against his palms and he slid down a bit too fast. When he reached the floor he flicked the rope and the hook came tumbling down.

Safely tucked in the shadows between the wall and the table, Wilbur fell back against the wood of the table leg and slid to the floor. The adrenaline spike Wilbur had been running off of was spent, leaving him shaky and light headed. He pulled his knees up and rested his forehead against them.

Wilbur stayed there for the next few hours as the police interviewed Phil and looked around. Techno came home at some point, his low voice noticeably different from the officer’s voices.

By the time the voices faded and the house fell dark again, Wilbur’s back ached. After another ten minutes Wilbur stood, stretched, and seeing Phil back in bed, ran to the outlet. His climb back into the passageways was made faster by Tommy and Tubbo’s help as they hauled him inside and helped him lift the outlet back into place.

“You good big man?” Tommy asked once the outlet was in place.

“Yeah,” Wilbur said, forcing a smile and hoping his hands had stopped shaking. “Mission successful.”

Tubbo pulled Wilbur into a hug. After a moment Wilbur patted him on the back. “Let’s go home, yeah? I don’t know about you two but I’m exhausted.”

Back out the house, they said their goodnights and Wilbur retreated to his bed. He kicked off his boots, let his belt drop to the floor, and fell face down onto the pillows. He was out instantly.

Chapter Text

Footsteps on the floor above woke Wilbur the next morning. Sleep hung heavy on him still, tempting him to roll over and let the world fade away, but Wilbur knew this morning would be important. Phil and Techno were going to talk about what happened last night, and he needed to hear what they had to say. So Wilbur took a deep breath, dragged himself from the warm blankets and rose.

He retrieved his tool belt from where he’d dropped it on the floor last night and slipped it on. Suppressing a yawn, Wilbur stumbled into the kitchen and retrieved a corn flake from one of the storage bins. Wilbur took a bite of the corn flake and exited the house.

Wilbur reached the vent a few minutes later. Peering through the grate, he got his first good view of the house since the night before.

The TV was leaned up against the wall, unplugged, but intact. Wilbur thought a few speakers might be missing, but he wasn’t positive. Otherwise the kitchen seemed undisturbed.

Phil sat at the small dining room table, eating his cereal at a lethargic pace. Wilbur couldn’t see Techno, so he assumed the human was still asleep.

Wilbur sat back against the vent wall to finish his own breakfast and wait.

About twenty minutes later, Wilbur heard the sound of Techno’s bedroom door open and shut.

“Mornin,” Techno said as he entered the kitchen, his voice rough with sleep. Wilbur shuffled closer to the grate of the vent until he could see down into the kitchen again.

“And what a lovely morning it is,” Phil said. Techno snorted and opened the cabinet to retrieve a mug, letting Wilbur get a clear view of the bags under his eyes and his mess of pink hair.

“Heard anything from the cops yet?” Techno asked.

“No,” Phil said, “and doubt will we anytime soon. Don’t think small time burglary is gonna be real high on their list of priorities.” As Phil spoke Techno set his mug under the coffee machine and turned it on.

Techno slid into the chair across from Phil, his mug of coffee cradled in his hands. He was silent for a moment. “You know, a security system would’ve been handy. We might have gotten their faces on camera.”

Phil sighed. “Not much help now, but I’d be game to get one for the future. I’d feel a little safer after sleeping through three guys letting themselves in.”

Wilbur frowned. He didn’t have a firm grasp on what a security system would include, but Phil and Techno made it sound like it would involve camera’s, which would be a huge problem. Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo could borrow the items they needed when no one was looking, but a camera would put an end to that safety. They wouldn’t be able to borrow food, which meant they would have to leave and find a new house. There were some borrowers who lived in the wilds, but they learned the skills needed to survive from their parents. It wasn’t something a home-dwelling borrower could adapt to without years of guidance.

Wilbur pulled himself from his thoughts as Phil spoke again.

“By the way, did you mess with my alarm clock at all?” Ice settled in Wilbur’s stomach. He’d been hoping Phil would’ve dismissed that as a dream, or forgotten it all together.

“No,” Techno said, shooting Phil a puzzled look, “why do you ask?”

Phil frowned. “Well its what woke me up last night. Just went off at some weird time like 1:33 or something.”

“You sure you didn’t dream it? Maybe the assholes dropped something and it startled you?”

Phil was quiet for a moment, and Wilbur willed him to accept one of Techno’s explanations. “No,” Phil said, “it definitely happened.”

“Weird,” Techno said. “Sounds like you got a guardian angel. Or maybe the house is haunted.”

Phil snorted. “Maybe.”

Wilbur ran a hand down his face. It wasn’t the end of the world that Phil remembered, but even if they’d been joking, both Phil and Techno would be more aware of little inconsistencies and coincidences from now on.

“Well,” Phil stood and stretched, “I guess I’ll be researching security systems today. I’ll let you know if I find anything promising.”

Techno gave some kind of affirmative response, but Wilbur wasn’t listening anymore. They were going to install a security system, and he didn’t know what that meant for himself and the boys. If the camera was only pointed at the front door, they should be fine. Unless they needed to rip into the walls to place the damn thing, and then they could be discovered. Wilbur simply didn’t know how it would work or what it would mean for them, and the uncertainty was terrifying. Moving to a new house would have to be the last resort, but he couldn’t even prepare properly for that because Phil and Techno would likely but the system within the next week, and that wasn’t enough time to prepare to move houses.

Wilbur took a deep breath. What he could do was make sure they borrowed as mush food as they dared  while they could, and listen closely to what Techno and Phil said in the coming days.

- - - - - - - - -

Tubbo looked up from his breakfast at the sound of their front door opening to see Wilbur step through.

“So what’d they say,” Tommy asked around a mouthful of cornflake. Wilbur shut the door behind him and shot Tommy an exasperated look.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, child.”

Tommy glared. “I’ll do what I want, bitch.” He took another bite of cornflake.

Tubbo elbowed Tommy. “Quit it. What’s the news, Wilbur?”

Wilbur slumped into the chair across from Tommy, and Tubbo caught sight of the dark circles under his eyes. “Well Phil remembers the alarm clock unfortunately, but they don’t really know what to think about it. And they’re getting a security system.”

Tubbo frowned. “Whats that?”

“Its a way humans keep their homes secure. Unfortunately, the specifics tend to vary, and they’re sort of new. Our parents didn’t really have to worry about them but now lots of humans are using cameras and motion sensors, which would be a problem.” Tubbo could tell Wilbur was doing his best to sound neutral, but he could see the man’s anxiety in the set of his shoulders.

Tommy’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “Are we gonna have to move?”

Wilbur drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t know.” The drumming stopped and Wilbur leaned forward, giving them both a long look. “I’m being serious about this so listen; we need to be very careful for the next few days. I don’t know when they’re going to put the security system up, and I don’t know if they’ll be knocking down walls to do it. So I need you two to listen to what Phil and Techno say and tell me if you hear anything important. Any dates or details of this thing. And you need to stay out of sight. Phil and Techno have no idea we’re here, but they know something weird happened last night and they’re going to be looking out for more strange things. Do you understand?”

Tommy snorted. “Course I do. I’m not an idiot.” The words were bold but Tubbo noticed Tommy’s voice lacked its usual edge.

“We’ll be careful,” Tubbo said.

Wilbur watched for a moment more before leaning back. “Good. We’re going to be borrow every night for the next few days, so be sure to take naps.”

“So soon?” Tubbo said.

Wilbur stood. “I want to be stocked up on as much food as possible, just in case.” He smirked. “And if you two behave and things go well maybe we can include an ice-cream run some time.” The boys exchanged grins.

“You got it, big man,” Tommy said, beaming. “Best borrower behavior here, you’ll see.”

Tubbo doubted that, but he’d be there to remind Tommy when he inevitably forgot. A glance at Wilbur showed he thought likewise.

“Good,” Wilbur said. “Get some rest today and be ready for tonight then.” Wilbur disappeared down the hall, likely to go back to sleep.

“Well this is a real pain,” Tubbo said.

“Ah don’t worry Tubs,” Tommy said. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Wilbur probably just overreacting as usual.”

“Hmm. I’m not so sure,” Tubbo said. “But whatever. You still want to make those bows today?”

Tommy grinned. “Hell yeah. We’ll have to make some arrows too though.”

A few weeks ago, Techno and Phil had a movie night, which meant Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo had a movie night as well. The movie had humans in shiny armor and wielding swords. There were a few other pretend species in the movie, but they were all human sized except for the dwarves, which were only a little short. Tommy and Tubbo had been fascinated by the weapon one character had used: a bow and arrows. When Wilbur had mentioned the weapon was real and could actually be made Tommy and Tubbo had decided to make some for themselves. All they needed was wood and string, which was easy enough.

Tommy popped the rest of his cornflake in his mouth and crunched loudly as he stood. “Let’s go,” he said, mouth full.

“Gross, Tommy,” Tubbo laughed. They grabbed their tool belts and ran out the door, ready to get to work.

Chapter Text

Wilbur slapped an ant off the twig before heaving it up off the damp ground. Grass blades whispered against his clothes and brushed against his hair as he walked back to the crawlspace. Pushing through the final curtain of grass blades, Wilbur hauled the twig into the shadows under the house.

“Alright,” Wilbur said, his voice raised, “this should do it for today.”

“Finally,” Tommy shouted and dropped a twig onto a pile of others they’d spent the last hour collecting. Beneath the stack of wood lay an open net.

Wilbur let his twig clatter onto the stack and looked around. “Where’s Tubbo?”

“Give you one guess,” Tommy said. Wilbur rolled his eyes and listened. Over the trilling song of a bird in the distance and the rustle of the wind through the trees, he heard Tubbo speaking in a soft happy tone.

“Right,” Wilbur said, setting off in the direction of the boy’s voice. “Go ahead and get those tied together.”

Tommy muttered something about ‘not the boss of me,’ but knelt to secure the netting around the twigs.

Wilbur crested the nearest dirt mound and spotted Tubbo at the bottom of the hill. He was crouched before Pog, administering enthusiastic pats and muttering “who’s a good frog?”

Wilbur smiled. “Tubbo, we’re gonna need your help with the fire wood.”

“Fiiiine,” Tubbo said, giving Pog a boop on the nose before standing. For the first time since Wilbur had arrived the frog blinked.

They returned to the twig pile, now throughly ensnared in netting.

A hook thudded to the ground beside Tubbo. A rope was tied to it and lead up to the house. “Hurry up then,” Tommy’s voice hollered from above them.

Looking up, Wilbur saw Tommy’s head of blonde hair looking down on them from the trapdoor in the underside of the house. Wilbur secured the hook to the netting around the wood.

Wilbur and Tubbo grabbed the ropes they’d left dangling from the trapdoor and hauled themselves up to join Tommy.

Once they’d entered the house they all grabbed the rope attached to the wood below. “Three, two—“ Wilbur started.

“Now!” yelled Tommy, yanking the rope and startling the other two into following suit. Tubbo laughed and Wilbur let out an exasperated sigh before focusing their strength on their task. Once the twigs reach the hatch Wilbur stepped forward to grip the netting and haul them up and over the edge.

The next hours are spent hauling the twigs back to their home, chopping them into logs, and stacking them beside the fireplace. Wilbur had made the fireplace a few years back using tinfoil, sand, and stone. The chimney was a simple vent that attached to the dryer vent above them. Making their house close to the vent helped keep the home warm, as well as an outlet for the smoke.

When they ran out of room to place logs beside the fireplace they stacked them against the wall in the corridor outside. Wilbur was still prepared to make the call the move to another house, but he also knew there was a chance they wouldn’t need to. If that was the case, they’d need to be prepared for winter.

Wilbur’s gaze drifted to Tubbo’s frame. The kid had hit a growth spurt a few months ago. The last time Tubbo had worn his jacket Wilbur had thought it looked too small, now he had no doubt the boy had outgrown it. He’d need to make a new one.

Maybe he could keep an eye out for a stray sock by the dryer? It was one of the few larger things Wilbur dared borrow, but humans had the fortunate belief that dryers ate socks, and borrowers tended to capitalize on that. A sock wasn’t the best material for a jacket, but it would work in a pinch.

“Hey Wilbur, we’re going shooting.” Tommy said, waving his bow and walking toward the door, Tubbo close behind.

“Don’t shoot each other,” Wilbur said.

“No promises!”

With the boys departure the house fell silent and Wilbur was left to consider the next hour. His gaze drifted to the well loved guitar leaning against the living room wall. The wood was dull and scuffed in places from years of use. Wilbur tore his eyes away from the instrument. He didn’t have time for that now.

Wilbur opened his pack and filled it with a sharpening stone, a sewing kit, a few scrapes of cloth, a slip of paper, and a piece of graphite. He slung the pack onto his shoulder and strode out the front door.

- - - - - - - - -

“What do you think of motion sensing lights?” Techno drawled, squinting at his laptop.

Wilbur paused in his sewing. He sat in the kitchen vent, leaning back against the wall and trying to get some work done while he waited for Phil or Techno to speak.

Techno had been sitting at the dining room table, presumably researching home security systems. It was about an hour before Phil, a blanket wrapped around his shoulder’s, shuffled into the kitchen to join him for lunch and Techno finally spoke.

Phil sat across from him, eating a grilled cheese sandwich. “That’d be fine, I guess,” Phil said. “But I just want something that’s gonna wake me up when a window or door is opened. And a camera to catch the fuckers.”

Techno hummed. “Alright then.”

Wilbur relaxed a fraction. He thought it would be odd to have motion sensing lights in the house, so he guessed those would be an outside aspect of the system. But he’d prefer not to deal with it at all, so Wilbur was glad to hear the humans weren’t interested in it.

“How about this one?” Techno pushed the laptop over to face Phil. Wilbur shifted closer to the vent to try to get a view of the screen, but it wasn’t at the right angle.

Phil’s eyes scanned the computer. “Looks good to me. Where were you thinking of putting the cameras? Besides one at the front door.”

Wilbur grabbed his pack and snatched his paper and graphite from it. As the humans spoke, he pressed the graphite to the paper and prepared to write.

“I was thinkin’ one at the back door too, and maybe the third in the living room. But I thought the yard could work too. Might be good for catchin’ license plates.”

“Eh, let’s do the living room. If—“ Phil paused, his face screwing up before he turned to sneeze into his elbow. “If we’re not getting the lights then I don’t think we’ll see any license plates.”

“True.” Techno pulled the laptop back towards himself. “Alright, I’m buyin’ it. Speak now of forever hold your peace.” Wilbur wrote down ‘cameras: back door, front door, living room.’

Phil waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

Techno’s hands clattered over the laptop keyboard. “Okay. It should be here in . . . three days.” Wilbur wrote down three days and circled it.

The human’s conversation moved onto insurance issues. Apparently, the thieves had taken a few speakers with them. Wilbur tuned out the conversation and considered his notes.

The camera locations were less of a problem than Wilbur feared. The front and back door locations weren’t an issue: the borrowers rarely set foot near them. The living room camera could be bad, depending on the angle and where it was placed.

The worst case scenario would be if the camera was placed in the kitchen facing the living room. Wilbur wasn’t sure how they would get food if that was the case. Wilbur would’ve carved a tunnel directly into the pantry except there would be no way to hide the passage in the blank pantry walls.

Wilbur sat back against the vent wall and returned to his sewing. They had three days until the package arrived, and Wilbur had to assume they’d set it up as soon as it arrived. Which meant they had three days to gather the remaining food and supplies needed. That wasn’t enough time if he stuck to his usual borrowing hours. Wilbur would have to do some borrowing during the day.

The thought made Wilbur’s palms sweaty, but he knew logically it should be fine. He knew Techno’s and Phil’s schedules. Between 9:00am and noon Techno would be sleeping after getting home from work, while Phil would have left for work. That was plenty of time for them to gather what they needed and be gone by the time Techno woke up.

“Ah,” Wilbur flinched as he accidentally stuck his fingers with the sewing needle. Glaring at the dot of blood that welled up, Wilbur decided to pack up and return home. No doubt Tommy and Tubbo were wondering where he was by now.

He wiped his blood on his pants and slung his backpack onto his shoulders. Wilbur walked back down the vent, Techno and Phil’s muffled voices drifting behind him.

Chapter Text

Tubbo was in the middle of sketching out a new design for an elevator when Tommy appeared at his shoulder. He’d been working on it for a few days, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever build it, but it was fun to imagine.

“Tubbo!” Tommy yelled, shaking Tubbo’s shoulder.

Tubbo suppressed a smile. “Yes, Tommy?”

“Techno forgot his phone!”

Tubbo rose from his desk. “Is Phil awake?”

Tommy scoffed. “Would I be this excited if he was?”

Tubbo felt a grin as bright as Tommy’s sneak its way onto his face. They both scrambled to their belts.

They ran all the way to the entrance to Techo’s room. Tubbo felt a little guilty sneaking out on Wilbur again, but the opportunity was too rare to pass up.

They snuck out of the outlet in Techno’s room and ran to his desk.

“How’d you know he left it?” Tubbo asked once they reached the base of it.

“Heard it ring a little while ago,” Tommy said, spinning his hook.

Moments later they pulled themselves over the edge of the desk. Notebooks, papers, pencils, and a closed book lay strewed across the desk.

Tubbo and Tommy ignored all of it in favor of the iPhone laying face down in the center of the mess. Together, the boys gripped the edge of the phone and flipped it face up.

Tommy pushed down on the home button, the red glow lighting their faces in the gloom. Tubbo slapped the four digit code and the device unlocked.

Tommy had spent a week staking out vents, trying to get either Phil or Techno’s code. It had bored Tubbo to tears at the time, but now he happily admitted it was worth the effort.

Tubbo pressed his hand to the music app. “Ooh,” Tubbo said, scanning the list, “he’s got new ones.”

“Try one then!” Tommy said.

Tubbo grinned and pressed the first new song. He sat back, shoulder to shoulder with Tommy, and let the sound wash over him.

The song started with a man’s voice singing a simple tune. It expanded from there in an explosion of instruments and oddly enough some forest sounds. It was almost a folk song, Tubbo thought, though he didn’t know human music that well. It made him was to get up and run, or dance.

“I like that one,” Tubbo said once it wound to a close.

“Hmm. It was alright. I like the louder ones better.”

Tubbo laughed softly. “Oh I know.”

They spent the next half hour playing different songs. Sometimes they danced, or practiced some lazy needle fighting, or they just sat and listened. Music was rare for borrowers, and Wilbur’s instrument even rarer. Borrows had no machines to record sounds, and the process of making instruments was painstaking and a rare skill.

Wilbur was one of the rare few who knew how to play. It had been a while since Wilbur had played his guitar, but Tubbo didn’t want to stress the man by asking him to.

The guitar had belonged to Tommy’s mother, or so Wilbur told them. He had a lot of complicated feelings tangled up about the instrument, and Tubbo knew Wilbur’s stress had only grown in the past few days. Maybe when this security system business had passed Tubbo would ask him to play again.

“We should probably go Tommy,” Tubbo said after a while. “Techno might be home soon, or Wilbur might wake up.”

“Yeah,” Tommy breathed. He was still, for a rare moment of peace, before bouncing to his feet.

Together they shut the app, turned off the phone, and flipped it back into place. They snuck back into the wall and to bed, and this time Wilbur was none the wiser.

- - - - - - - - -

Wilbur checked his gear while he waited by the door. His usual knife, hook, and needle were all in place on his belt in addition to a few extra bags and bottles in his pack.

The security system would get here tomorrow, so today was the last day they had to borrow supplies in the case they needed to move. Wilbur had checked their stores, and decided they needed more salt for preserving food, as well as some kind of fabric for a new jacket for Tubbo. Wilbur wasn’t sure he’d be able to find the fabric today, but he was hopeful.

“Sometime today boys,” Wilbur hollered back into the house. Phil would have left for work a few hours ago, and Techno should be sleeping like a rock for at least the next two, but Wilbur still wanted to get a move on. The more time they had to work with the better.

Tommy’s irritated voice echoed back down the hall, “we’re come, we’re coming!”

A few minutes later Tubbo and Tommy came trotting down the hall, Tommy still struggling to fasten his belt.

“There.” Tommy pulled the belt tight. “See, two seconds.” Behind Tommy, Tubbo rolled his eyes.

“Right,” Wilbur said, pushing off from the wall. “Let’s go then.”

They left the home and made their way to the kitchen entrance, Tommy and Tubbo chattering the whole time.

“We’ve never borrowed during the day before,” Tubbo said, his step bouncing, “it’s a little exciting.”

Wilbur had a different word in mind but didn’t contradict the boy. “Just be sure to be safe. Follow the usual rules and all.”

“Yes, Mom,” Tommy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

They reached the panel and pushed it out of place. Wilbur poked his head out and listened. The house was silent except for the distant sound of Techno’s snores. Sunlight streamed in through the dining room windows and bounced off the kitchen tiles, dust drifting in the beam. Wilbur stepped out and gesture for the boys to follow.

“So what are Tubbo and I getting?” Tommy asked, his gaze roaming the bright room.

Wilbur shook his head. “We’re staying together for this one. I’m going to need your help with the salt.” Wilbur didn’t mention he felt better if he could see the boys while they borrowed. That would certainly set Tommy off on another ‘I’m a big boy now,’ argument.

Tommy sighed. “I guess if you need the help it’s fine.” Wilbur had excepted bit more a fight from the kid, but maybe he’s was a little unsettled by the daytime borrowing as well.

Tubbo took his hook from his belt and swung it idly. “So what are we getting first?”

“The salt,” Wilbur said. “But I also want to get some kind of fabric. Nothing they’ll notice is missing but if you see something let me know.”

“Oh I hope we find some wool,” Tubbo said, his eyes bright. “I like warm and fuzzy stuff.”

“Wool’s not soft,” Tommy said his nose wrinkled. “It’s all scratchy and shit.”

“Okay, okay,” Wilbur waved his hands, trying to stop the argument before it gained anymore momentum. “We’ll find whatever is available and we won’t be picky. End of discussion. Come on, to the table.”

Wilbur herded the boys over to the dining room table. The table was unfortunately just tall enough that they’d have to grapple up onto one of the chairs, then up onto the tabletop. For the trip back down their lines were long enough to go straight to the floor, the problem was casting so high.

Luckily Phil and Techno had gotten the oak dining set second hand, so there were plenty of dents and dings to disguise the new slight punctures the hooks would make.

They reach the tabletop with relative ease, the climb was nothing compared to scaling the fridge or a dresser.

In the center of the table sat the salt and pepper shakers. Phil and Techno kept a simple set, small and with a tunable top with different salt settings.

“Hold that for me,” Wilbur said. Tommy held the base of the salt shaker in place while Wilbur rotated the top to the pour setting.

Tubbo held open one of the bags as Wilbur and Tommy hefted the shaker and turned it. The white crystals tumbled from the spout and into the bag.

“Okay, stop,” Tubbo said after a few seconds.

After setting the salt back in place Wilbur took the bag from Tubbo.

A door creaked open down the hall.

The three borrowers froze.

Wilbur’s eyes locked on the hallway entrance, adrenaline flooding his veins with ice. A set of footfalls sounded down the hall, growing louder. He broke through the paralysis. “Down,” he said, his voice hushed. He did his best to project calm but firm tone. “Quickly. Go back down now. Get to the door and don’t turn back.”

Tommy and Tubbo scrambled to the side of the table as Wilbur tied the bag of salt shut as fast as he could before stuffing it in his bag. By the time he got the the edge of the table the boys were almost to the floor. He would have been proud of their speed if the footsteps hadn’t reached the kitchen doorway.

Wilbur caught a glance of the boys reaching the tile before he looked up, all the while fumbling to get his hook off his belt and into place on the table edge. He froze as Phil walked into the kitchen, his nose red and his eyes unfocused. Wilbur’s heart hammered in his chest. All Phil had to do was look up into the dining room, and he’d be spotted.

There was no where to hide and the daylight left no chance to even hide in the dark. Phil glanced at the clock, sneezed, and turned to the fridge. Wilbur flinched as Phil’s gaze swept past him, but Phil’s eyes didn’t pause over him.

Phil opened the fridge and peered inside, still blinking sleep from his eyes.

Wilbur took the chance to slide over the edge of the table and begin his descent. He knew his chances were low; Phil was only ten feet away and Wilbur was out in the open, but with no where to hide his only chance was to reach the floor before Phil closed the fridge.

Wilbur wasn’t even halfway down when two things happened. First, he felt a tremor in his line that made his heart plummet. Second, Phil shut the fridge.

Wilbur’s grip trembled on his line from the strength it took to hold himself in place and unmoving. His gaze stayed locked on Phil, and he willed the man to leave, turn away, anything but look to his left.

Phil turned left.

Phil walked toward the counter, his eyes on his phone, and for a moment Wilbur had hope.

Then Phil’s green eyes snapped up to meet Wilbur’s. The man froze, his eyes wide as he saw Wilbur dangling from the table.

Wilbur couldn’t move. He didn’t know what to do and he could hear himself think past the thundering heartbeat in his ears. They stared at each other for what felt like years.

Then another, harsher, tremor vibrated Wilbur’s line, ripping his gaze away from Phil’s as he looked up in time to see a flash of silver as his hook slipped off the table.

Gravity gripped Wilbur and wrenched him down. He distantly heard himself gasp as he threw his arms out. Wilbur only had time for an instant of dread before he hit the tile. His leg folded under him, but not at the knee. It did nothing to lessen the impact of the back of his head against the floor a second later.

There was a pop of bright white light in Wilbur’s vision and a waves of pain shooting up his leg and pounding through his head. He had time to process he was on his back before a fuzzy feeling enveloped him, dragging him into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Wilbur woke to the world in slow waves of consciousness. The first wave to hit him was pain. It radiated up his leg, from his neck, and pulsed in the back go his head, dragging him up from the depths of sleep. He wanted to curl up and sleep until the pain went away, but its persistence prevented him from doing so.

The next thing he registered was a voice, loud, and something about it settled anxiety in his stomach. He drifted, eyes shut, until he realized why the voice bothered him; it wasn’t Tommy or Tubbo. The previous anxiety, distant and muffled, sharpened to panic at the realization his back was pressed against something warm.

Wilbur’s eyes opened. He gasped, sat up, and looked straight into Phil’s bright green eyes. The man stared down at him from not two feet away with a wide-eyed expression. “Oh thank fuck you’re alive,” he said.

Wilbur was sitting cupped in Phil’s hands, warm blood trickling down the back of his neck into the collar of his shirt, and his left leg was bent at the shin. He stared at the break, wondering if he should try to straighten it. His vision kept sliding off to the side and darkening at the edges. Wilbur distantly realized he had a concussion.

“Are you good mate?” Phil asked. His voice was shaky with a nervous laugh.

Remembering where he was, Wilbur snatched at the needle on his belt. He couldn’t draw it at this angle, but he pulled it perpendicular to his body and held it tight to his stomach. That way if Phil tried to close his hand around Wilbur he’d stab himself in the attempt. Wilbur ignored the knowledge that Phil could easily pluck the needle from his hands first.

“Put me down,” Wilbur said. His voice came out rough and quieter than he’d wanted.

Phil blinked. “Ah, you sure? You don’t look real good right now.”

Wilbur’s inhale shook his whole body. “Put me down! Please.” Compared to his shout, the last part was more of a whisper.

“Okay, okay,” Phil said, grimacing. He looked away from Wilbur, scanning the kitchen. “I’ll just . . .”

Wilbur’s stomach lurched as Phil stood, sending pain shooting down Wilbur’s neck. Phil’s hands shook slightly as he lowered Wilbur onto the dining table. Phil pulled his hands back slowly, but Wilbur still jarred his leg as he slid off onto the wood. He bit back the yelled that clawed up his throat as a wave of nausea hit him.

Phil stood and looked down at Wilbur, his expression caught between surprise and concern. “This is so fuckin weird.” He pulled out one of the dining room chairs and sat down. “Maybe I’m sicker than I thought.” He stared at Wilbur, hand on his forehead.

Wilbur glanced at the kitchen floor. He couldn’t see any sign of Tommy or Tubbo, so they must have evaded Phil’s sight. He was relieved that at least they were still hidden, but Wilbur didn’t know what to do about his own situation. He couldn’t walk, and the pain had been getting worse and was to the point where his eyes were beginning to water.

“Should I get you . . . ” Phil waved his hand as he trailed off, “ice? Should I take you to the hospital?” A hysterical little laugh seemed to bubble out of Phil.

“No!” Wilbur said, the idea of being taken anywhere jolting him into speech. “Don’t do that.”

Phil blew out a breath. “Okay then. Uh. What should I do?”

“Nothing,” Wilbur said, grimacing. “Um, leave. Preferably.”

Phil gave him an incredulous look. “Mate, you’re legs broken and you’re on a table. I’m not sure what you think you can do from there. Pretty sure if I left now and came back in an hour you’d still be here.” Phil sat back. “Although thats assuming this is real. What are you, by the way?”

Wilbur looked at his broken leg. Phil was unfortunately correct. Even with Tommy and Tubbo’s help, getting down from the table might not be possible, and definitely not safe. And there was always the chance Phil would come back in the attempt and catch Tommy and Tubbo as well.

At Phil’s last question, Wilbur felt his jaw clench. He didn’t think Phil would let him dodge the question, and even if he did he would definitely ask more. Humans were territorial, so he was already on thin ice for being found in the man’s home. What could he even say? He was a borrower in a human’s kitchen. From the human’s perspective he was stealing: a pest. Maybe Phil didn’t know it yet, but the clues were there.

“I’m just . . . small.” It was pathetic, but it was all Wilbur could come up with.

“Ooookay.” Phil frowned. “Why are you in my kitchen?” Phil’s expression was confused, not angry, but that didn’t do much for Wilbur’s nerves.

Wilbur’s mind scrambled to find a good lie to explain why he was here, and keep Phil from guessing the whole truth. “Hiding,” he said. Hiding implied he was only in Phil and Techno’s house temporarily. That way Phil wouldn’t know Wilbur lived here.

Phil’s frowned deepened. “Hiding from what?”

What would he have run from outside that the house could protect him from? “Bird,” Wilbur blurted out.

Phil expression turned suspicious. “And how’d you get in? And why were you on the table?”

Wilbur eyes flicked to the closed dining room window. He paled. Phil knew he was lying, so he’d only made his situation worse. The human would be even angrier now. Fuck, he couldn’t think past the pounding of his head and the pain in his leg—couldn’t figure out what to say. What would convince Phil to go away and not throw him out the front door or worse? The room was turning black at the edges of his vision and he realized his chin had dropped onto his chest, so he inhaled and forced his head back up. His eyes felt heavy in his skull but he forced them back onto Phil.

Phil had leaned away from him, his suspicious look gone and waved a hand. “Never mind.” Wilbur grit his teeth. Here’s where Phil would throw him in some box, trap him under a cup, or some other bullshit. Phil looked around.

“So,” Phil scanned the room, “you’ve been staying in the house, right?”

Wilbur kept his mouth shut and his eyes locked on his shoes.

“Do you want me to set up a guest bed or something?”

“No,” Wilbur said. There was a moment of silence, neither one of them knowing what to do next.

Phil’s brow furrowed. “Do you . . . want me to take you somewhere?”

Wilbur opened his mouth to say no, but paused. The idea of Phil picking him up made his skin crawl. But if Phil got him down from the table, Tommy and Tubbo could help him home once the human left. It didn’t matter that Phil could pick him up at any point, regardless of Wilbur’s wishes, Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to invite the contact, no matter how convenient. But he needed to get down from the table. Wilbur’s thoughts kept circling round, making his arms tremble and his mind go foggy.

Phil’s voice softened. “Only if you want, mate. I’m not gonna hurt you. I’ll pick you up and set you right back down wherever you need to be.”

Wilbur dragged his eyes up to meet Phil’s. The human watched him with a patient gaze, his hands in his lap. Phil had never displayed any cruel habits that Wilbur had seen. There had even been a time when Techno had brought a stray dog home and let it stay the night before taking it to the shelter. It had wet the carpet in Phil’s room, and while Phil had been annoyed, he hadn’t even yelled at the dog, just sighed and cleaned the mess. Wilbur forced himself to remember this, and the fact he’d already been in the palm of Phil’s hand. If Phil wanted to hurt him, he’d have done it by now.

“Okay,” Wilbur said, forcing out the word in a thin voice. “Just—on the floor, please.”

Phil glanced down. “You sure?”

Wilbur nodded, and regretted it when the room started spinning.

“Ready?” Phil asked.

“Yes.”

Phil leaned forward and slowly reached for Wilbur. Wilbur bit down on the panic that iced his veins and stayed still. Phil lay his hand palm up next to Wilbur.

“Do you want to pull yourself up or do you need help?”

Wilbur tried to brace his hands beneath him to push up, but discovered a sharp pain in his wrist as well as the pain in his neck. He felt like crying in frustration. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “Can you lift me please?”

“Sure thing,” Phil’s other hand hovered by him for a moment, as if unsure how to grab him. Phil extended a finger. “Can you grab onto this?”

Wilbur hesitantly hooked his arms over the finger, the skin’s warmth radiating through the sleeves of his shirt. Once Wilbur had a grip, Phil lifted him up and onto his palm. It was a steady movement, but it sent new sparks of pain up Wilbur’s leg regardless. Phil kept his hand next to Wilbur, giving him something to hold onto.

“Moving,” Phil said, and raised his hands.

Air ruffled Wilbur’s hair and cooled the blood on the back of his neck as Phil knelt and lowered Wilbur to the floor.

“Ready?” Phil asked.

“Yes,” Wilbur said. Phil slowly tilted his palm, letting Wilbur slide off and onto the floor. One final spark of pain as his leg shifted, and Wilbur sat once again on the tile.

Phil stayed kneeling beside him. “You sure you’ll be good from here?”

“I will,” Wilbur said, not looking in the direction of their kitchen entrance.

“Well,” Phil looked around, “I’m guessing you live here, so, when you’re feeling up to it I’d like to talk again.”

“Okay,” Wilbur said, a new wave of anxiety wash over him. It wasn’t as if he could say no at this point. But he’d deal with that later.

Phil nodded. “Right then. Uh, get well soon.” Phil shifted, took a deep breath and stood. Phil loomed over Wilbur for a moment, too tall for Wilbur to see his face without hurting his neck. Then the human walked away. Phil reached the kitchen entrance, shot one last anxious look at Wilbur, then disappeared into the hallway.

- - - - - - - - -

The moment Wilbur’s line had slipped, Tommy and Tubbo had been watching from the safety of the kitchen entrance. When Wilbur hit the tile, they were frozen. But when Phil had reached out to pick up Wilbur, Tommy drew his needle as stepped toward the human.

“Wait!” Tubbo hissed, throwing himself against Tommy to stop the boy’s advance.

“Get off me Tubbo,” Tommy hissed back, trying to shove the smaller boy off. “Wilbur needs help! Get off!”

Tubbo wrapped his arms around Tommy and dropped his weight. “No! Think! If Phil traps him we’ll be his only help. We can’t do that if we get caught as well.”

Tommy stopped trying to pry Tubbo off him, and his angry expression crumpled. “Fuck,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Yeah,” Tubbo said, his own tone matching.

They watched in tense silence as Phil lifted Wilbur from the floor, staring at the unconscious borrower and muttering to himself. Tubbo caught a fair bit of swearing as well as a ‘this can’t be fuckin real,’ before Wilbur must have woken.

The conversation between Phil and Wilbur was only minutes long, but to Tubbo it felt like hours. There was something terrifying about seeing Wilbur next to the colossal human.

He’d only ever seen human’s at a distance, so he’d never truly understood the scale of them. Wilbur looked so tiny next to Phil, and far too fragile. Tubbo had never thought of Wilbur as fragile before. He always seemed to know what to do. Tubbo suddenly understood Wilbur’s abundance of caution when it came to humans.

When Phil picked up Wilbur again, Tommy’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his needle. “If he tries to hurt him I’ma start stabbin’ shit.”

But Phil simply knelt, set Wilbur on the floor where he’d found him, and walked away.

As soon as the human left the room, Tommy and Tubbo started forward, eyes on Wilbur.

Wilbur glared at them and raised a hand palm facing them in the symbol of ‘stop.’ The boys paused and Wilbur continued to hold his hand up, his eyes flicking to the hallway. After a few minutes, he let his hand fall and Tommy and Tubbo rushed forward.

Tubbo fell to his knees at Wilbur’s side, his gaze darting from Wil’s broken leg to the blood matting his hair.

Tommy ran to his other side, his eyes locked on Wilbur’s leg. “You’ve fucked your leg up, Wil.” His voice was upbeat, but had a queasy edge to it.

“Really,” Wil said, “hadn’t noticed. Help me up, we should leave.”

Tubbo realized Wil was trying to look him in the eyes, but his gaze up falling around his shoulder. He must have a concussion, Tubbo realized. Tubbo didn’t want to move Wil like this, but he knew they couldn’t stay here.

Tommy shared a look with him that told Tubbo his thoughts were similar. Tommy and Tubbo knelt on either side of Wilbur, pulled his arms over their shoulder’s and stood.

Wilbur’s eyes squeezed shut and face pale as he raised his broken leg off the ground. The three of them wobbled their way to the kitchen entrance, moving as carefully as they could to minimize Wilbur’s pain.

Once they were back inside the safety of their tunnels, they knelt to sit Wilbur against the wall.

“I’m gonna go get some splints,” Tommy said once they shut the panel. “Stay with him, yeah?”

Tubbo nodded. Tommy sprinted off into the tunnels, the light of his lantern bobbing in the dark until it vanished as he turned a corner.

Tubbo set his own lantern on the floor in front of Wilbur and sat beside him. “I’m glad you’re okay. Well, okay considering,” Tubbo said.

Wilbur offered him a tired smile. “Me too.” Wilbur shifted and hissed in a breath. “You and Tommy did good. I’m proud of you.”

Tubbo smiled. “Tommy wanted to start stabbing Phil’s ankles.”

Wilbur laughed a little too loudly. “Of course he did.” His voice broke at the end.

Tubbo shifted closer to Wilbur and wrapped his arms around him carefully as the man started to blink rapidly.

Wilbur curled into the embrace, burying his face in Tubbo’s shoulder and clutching the back of Tubbo’s shirt. He shook but didn’t make a sound. Tubbo hooked his chin over Wilbur’s shoulder and held him tight until Wil’s trembling subsided.

They were still there when Tommy returned. He wordlessly set down his lantern and toothpicks and sat at Wil’s other side. He joined the embrace, gripping Wil and Tubbo’s shoulders and holding them as tight as he dared.

Chapter Text

It took the better part of an hour for the borrowers to haul Wilbur back home. It was a painful stumbling process, and every so often Wilbur would slump in their arms. He never blacked out for more than a second, but it made Tubbo’s heart jump into his throat each time.

Tommy shouldered open the door to their house, and together they stumbled to the couch. They eased Wilbur onto the cushions before helping him lay back.

In order to stabilize the limb for the journey home, Tommy had wrapped a splint around Wilbur’s leg, but it wasn’t right. There was bump about halfway down that showed the bone was out of place.

“Wilbur,” Tommy said as Tubbo returned with bandages tucked under his arm, “what do we need to do?”

Wilbur was silent. Tubbo looked up to see Wilbur’s eyes closed, his face slack in sleep.

“Hey,” Tommy barked. He reached for Wilbur’s shoulder before hesitating and tapping the side of his face. “Hey!”

Wilbur groaned and opened his eyes. “What?”

Tubbo gently lifted Wilbur’s head and pressed the bandage against the bloody patch on the back of his skull. Wilbur winced.

“What do we do?” Tommy asked again. But Wilbur was already drifting off again.

“Fuck,” Tommy swore and ran back into the depths of the house. He returned a few seconds later, a worn notebook bound with string under his arm. On the front page was written ‘medical.’ Tommy flipped through the book, his eyes scanning the pages. While Tommy read through the book, Tubbo ran to get some powdered ibuprofen. Tubbo put one scoop into a mug, hesitated, then added another before putting the kettle on. He returned to the living room a moment later with a steaming mug of bitter tea. Seeing Wilbur asleep, he set in on the table.

The notebook Tommy was flipping through was one of a series of books Wilbur had written. It was pretty much a list of medical conditions and treatments. In a typical borrower settlement, medical knowledge was kept in small libraries of other useful knowledge, as well as orally passed down through generations. But unfortunately Wilbur had only been fourteen when they had to run from their home, and hadn’t had the chance to bring the books with them.

After they’d found this home and gotten the basic necessities, Wilbur had sat down and written everything he could remember about treating wounds, plant species, human terms, and other vital borrower knowledge. The books were incomplete, despite Wilbur’s best attempts to remember everything.

Because of that, Tommy was able to find the page on concussions and how to treat them, but there was nothing about setting a broken bone.

Tommy flipped back to the page on concussions. “Well his balance was fucked but that might be the leg. Are his pupils dilated?”

Tubbo carefully pulled back WIlbur’s eyelids. after a second the man woke briefly to bat Tubbo’s hand away. “Yeah they’re pretty big.”

“Okay then we need to keep him awake.”

Tubbo raised his hand to take the book. “Sounds like the perfect job for you.” Tommy offered him a crooked grin before handing the book over.

Tommy leaned over Wilbur, inhaled, and yelled, “Wake up bitch!”

Wilbur groaned. “Shut the fuck up you child.”

As Wilbur shut his eyes again Tommy tapped the side of his face. “No sleeping big man. Wakey-wakey.”

As Tommy pestered Wilbur, and Wilbur swore colorfully, Tubbo scanned the rest of the page. It seemed that once Wilbur’s eyes returned to normal, then sleep would be the best treatment. Until then, there was a chance he could be sick. Tubbo left to grab one of their wooden buckets before returning. “He might be sick so make sure he uses this,” Tubbo handed Tommy the bucket. Tommy took it with a wrinkled nose, but didn’t protest.

“Hear that Wil,” Tommy said, “you puke, you’d better aim here.” He shook the bucket before setting it down by the couch.

Tubbo flipped through the book slowly, scanning for information on a broken leg one more time. Wilbur had written how to make a splint, but there was nothing about setting a badly broken bone.

Tubbo’s gaze flicked up to Wilbur’s crooked limb, his brow creased in concern. They couldn’t let it heal like that. Wilbur wouldn’t be able to walk right, or climb, or run. That would be a death sentence if they ever needed to leave the house, which very well may happen now that Phil had seen Wilbur. Tubbo bit his lip. They could try to set it, but they’d likely do more harm than good. Tubbo didn’t even have a solid idea of what the bones in the leg looked like. He had the idea that the shin actually had two bones in it, but not how they were positioned or how big they were.

If a traveling borrower visited with a medial book for trade, that might have been a solution, but the last trader they’d seen had been years ago so the chances of one showing up now with what they needed was infinitesimal. Tubbo paced the living room, trying to think of where else they might find the knowledge. After a few minutes of glaring at the floor and sighing, he paused.

Wilbur had told him once that humans and borrowers were nearly identical anatomically, aside from the obvious size difference. Tubbo didn’t think Phil or Techno would have a book about medical stuff, but . . . Tubbo did know the passcode to Techno’s phone.

Tommy and Tubbo had only ever used the phone to listen to music, but by watching Phil and Techno, Tubbo knew they had libraries of endless knowledge in them, as well as some other functions. If Tubbo could figure out how it worked, he could find out how to fix Wilbur’s leg.

“Tommy,” Tubbo said, “we can’t leave Wilbur’s leg like that.”

“Yeah I know,” Tommy said, poking Wilbur’s cheek and startling him awake. “But the books got nothing in it.”

“What if we used Techno’s phone?”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up. “Thats a good idea. Let’s go tomorrow.”

“We can’t wait that long,” Tubbo said. “Phil knows about Wil, and he may have gone back to sleep for now but we don’t know what he’s gonna do later. I need to go now, while they’re both asleep and while Phil hasn’t had the chance to tell Techno what happened.” Tubbo grabbed his bag by the door and tucked the notebook inside.

“Hold on a second,” Tommy said, eyes narrowed. “What’s with the ‘I have to go,’ talk? I’m coming too.”

Tubbo plucked a piece of pencil led off the table and put it in his bag too. “You can’t. Someone has to stay with Wilbur.”

“So why do you have to be the one to go then?”

“Cause I’m better at sneaking than you. And I don’t think I’d be strong enough to move Wilbur by myself if I had too.” Tubbo didn’t say he also trusted himself to be a bit more thorough than Tommy when it came to sifting through medical knowledge. He didn’t fault Tommy, but Tubbo knew he’d get bored after a few minutes and probably rush.

Tommy glared at him for a moment. “Fine. But you’d better be back soon.”

Tubbo grinned. “‘Course I will,” and ducked out the door. “And get Wil to drink that tea while I’m gone.”

- - - - - - - - -

There was the chance that Phil hadn’t gone back to sleep after finding Wil, but the house had been silent since then and Tubbo felt confident Phil wouldn’t come into Techno’s room either way. That, and now was the time to risk it, if ever.

Tubbo pushed out the outlet frame and slipped into Techno’s room. He crouched by the wall, eyes on the dark shape of Techno curled up in bed. When his eyes had adjusted to the dark, and the slow rhythm of breathing from the bed confirmed the human was asleep, Tubbo crept toward the desk.

With practiced ease Tubbo threw his grapple and scaled the side of the desk. Tubbo picked his way over the scattered papers, pencils, a pair of glasses, and to the phone. It felt odd, to be doing this without Tommy. It left him unsettled.

He glanced over his shoulder to check Techno’s sleeping form before flipping the phone. Tubbo knelt and  pressed his palm to the large button near the bottom of the phone. The screen lit with a red glow. It was dim enough that Tubbo wasn’t worried about the light waking Techno.

Tubbo typed in the passcode and the phone unlocked, displaying the familiar rows of squares. The music note one was the only square Tommy and Tubbo had used, and he’d never given the others much thought. Looking at them now, Tubbo regretted that.

Some of the squares only had stylized letters in them, some had simple symbols, and others had shaped Tubbo didn’t recognize. He frowned and after a few moments of consideration, he found one with they symbol of a book. He pressed it.

The screen changed to show rows of little rectangular pictures. Tubbo squinted, realizing there were letters on the pictures, and Tubbo realized these were book covers. They didn’t look like anything medically relevant, so Tubbo hit the large button again, returning to the screen with the squares.

For the next fifteen minutes Tubbo continued to search with increasing frustration. He’d tap on a symbol that looked promising, only to find it was a game, or movies, or something entirely alien. He was half convinced he’d already missed the right one simply because he hadn’t understood the format of it. On top of that, he was afraid of accidentally triggering some kind of noise from the phone, which made him wary of pressing buttons he didn’t understand. He’d glanced at Techno more than once during his search.

“Come on,” Tubbo hissed under his breath. He was back on the main screen, again, staring at the squares, willing one to make sense. Maybe he should just go down the rows and try each one. It would be the most logical route, but it would take so much time.

Tubbo had swiped right earlier in search of more promising squares and found nothing, but decided to try going left. The squares vanished and in their place was a thin gray bar at the top of the screen, with numbers and familiar squares below that. The bar at the top of the screen was blank, except for they symbol for a magnifying glass in the corner.

Drumming his fingers on his knee, Tubbo tried to think what that meant. Magnifying glasses made things bigger . . . so would this make the squares bigger? That seemed silly. He didn’t think magnifying glasses made noise, so Tubbo decided to press it and find out.

Once he did, a word appeared in the bar, and a keyboard expanded below that. Tubbo stared hard at the word, slowly looking at each letter and sounding it out, doing his best to ignore the way the letters drifted in his vision. It read ‘search.’

“Yes,” Tubbo hissed, a grin spreading across his face. This must be how to find information! Tubbo reached for the keyboard and frowned. He . . . wasn’t the best speller. Between the rare opportunity for borrowers to read or write, the way letters danced across Tubbo’s vision, and the length and complexity of the words Tubbo needed to use here, this would be difficult.

He decided to start as simple as possible. Tubbo squinted at the keyboard and slowly typed, ‘broken leg.’ He scanned the word twice, and Tubbo was relatively sure he’d spelled it right. Below the search bar, a strange symbol and the word broken leg appeared. Beneath that were rows in the same format, but with words like ‘broken leg symptoms,’ and ‘broken leg cast.’

Tubbo tapped ‘broken leg,’ deciding to see what that did. The screen appeared to slide away, revealing pictures of humans in hospitals, casts, and strange gray pictures of bones. Beneath that was a lot of words.

For what felt like hours Tubbo scanned words, looking for broken leg treatment or care. There was a lot on ‘recovery time,’ and ‘casts,’ but little on how you actually fixed a crooked bone.  During that time Tubbo figured out how to return to the search bar and painstakingly typed, ‘how to set a broken leg.’ Tubbo figured that must be specific enough.

But on the next screen there was lots of talk about what kind of breaks needed to be set, and that a human doctor could do it. No matter where Tubbo looked in the sea of swimming letters, no matter how carefully he focused to pin them in place so he could actually read them, he couldn’t find how to set a bone. All the stupid human knowledge said was to go to a doctor.

Tears of frustration pricked at Tubbo’s eyes and the pounding headache from all the reading wasn’t helping. Why did the stupid thing only say to see a doctor? Didn’t human doctors need to know how to set a broken bone? What there some kind of special place humans kept medical knowledge for some reason?

Tubbo sat back and pressed his palms into his eyes. Taking a break from the glowing screen seemed to ease his headache somewhat. Maybe, Tubbo thought, if he could get a better idea of what the bones looked like, Tubbo could figure it out himself. Deciding it might be his only option, Tubbo returned to the search bar and typed ‘skeleton leg.’

The resulting search showed rows and rows of skeletal legs, from different angles and most in clear detail. Tubbo tapped one of the better pictures. When it expanded Tubbo had to take a moment to stare at the image in amazement. It was so clear, so detailed, and Tubbo had only the basic idea of skeletal knowledge. Maybe with this, Tubbo could make things work.

Tubbo reached for the notebook, flipped it open to a blank page, and settled down to sketch out the skeletal limb. This was so much easier than reading. Tubbo took his time, making sure he got the proportions correct, and included the details. When he finished the sketch of the leg bones, he decided to sketch the rest of the skeleton too. It could prove to be invaluable in the future.

He searched for a picture of a full skeleton and got to work. It occurred to him as he sketched, that he was contributing something incredibly valuable to their little pool of knowledge and he found himself smiling.

Tubbo was hunched over the notebook, carefully drawing out each rib, when Tubbo’s focus was shattered by the lights flicking on.

Tubbo jerked, his head snapping to face the light-switch. Techno lowered his hand from the switch, blinking away sleep, shifted to turn—

Tubbo scrambled to his feet, ice flooding his veins. He knew there was no way for him to get off the desk in time, so Tubbo threw himself toward the back of the desk and behind the cup of pens and pencils.

Tubbo pressed his back against the cup. Tubbo thought he’d heard a noise of confusion from Techno’s direction, but couldn’t hear clearly past his own heavy breathing. Techno kept his glasses on the desk, so after flicking on the light, he would have looked to the desk. Tubbo didn’t know if Techno had seen him, but the probability was high. His only hope was that without his glasses, Techno would dismiss the blur motion as a trick of the light.

Footsteps approached the desk. Tubbo clutched the notebook to his chest as his thoughts raced. The desk was pressed against the wall, so there was no way for Tubbo the grapple down the back of it. The sides weren’t an option because the side Tubbo was closest to was also pressed to the wall, while the other faced Techno. He wouldn’t have anywhere to run.

The glasses on the desk were just visible around the edge of the cup. A moment after the footsteps reached the desk, a hand pulled the glasses off the desk. Tubbo took slow breaths, making them as quiet as possible.

The plastic of the phone case scraped against paper as Techno picked up the phone. Tubbo realized he’d left it on with a wave of dread.

“Hah?” Techno said, his voice rough with sleep. He cleared his throat. “What the hell?”

Tubbo, so slowly his muscles ached, turned to look around the edge of the cup. He stayed back in the shadows and only leaned out enough to get Techno in his line of sight.

Techno glowered at his phone, his finger swiping down on the screen. His expression grew more perplexed with each movement. Tubbo ducked back behind the cup. So long as Techno hadn’t seen him on the desk, he would be fine, Tubbo assured himself. The human would be confused for a minute before moving on. He was fine.

The cup shifted, and Tubbo pushed away from it just as it rose off the desk. Tubbo spun to stare up at Techno.

The human held the cup in one hand, phone in the other, and stared down at him in blank shock.

“Hah?” Techno said.

Tubbo bolted. His feet flew over the papers as he aimed for the end of the desk. His panic didn’t leave much room for a plan, but he had the vague idea of sliding down his rope as fast as he could and hoping for the best.

He’d made it halfway across the desk when Techno dropped the cup back onto the desk. The rattle of pens sent a chill up Tubbo’s spine.

Tubbo threw a glance over his shoulder to see a hand reaching for him. Tubbo threw himself to the side and rolled, away from his rope, and back onto his feet. He scrambled two steps in the wrong direction before fingers closed around his middle and plucked him off his feet.

Tubbo yelped, his cry cut off by the pressure around his chest. He flailed, dropping the notebook, pushing against the fingers that held him and kicking at the air. The thumb pressing into his chest and the fingers at his back remained firm around him, unmoving despite his best efforts.

He was lifted high above the desk and brought face to face with Techno.

The human stared at him, his eyebrows raised but his expression oddly blank. It didn’t nothing to ease Tubbo’s panic.

“This is so fuckin’ weird.”

Tubbo remembered his needle. The angle was bad, but Tubbo ripped it from his belt, and in an awkward backhanded hold, stabbed it into the base of Techno’s thumb.

Techno jerked, his hand squeezing tighter around Tubbo and knocking the breath from him.

“Ouch,” Techno said in an unimpressed tone. Using his free hand he plucked the needle from his thumb and Tubbo’s loose grasp. Techno dropped it to the desk with a clink.

Tubbo coughed as he forced air back into his lungs.

Techno turned him in his hand, spinning Tubbo to face away and tilting him down slightly. It gave Tubbo an unsettling view of how high up he was. He felt a tug at his tool belt and Tubbo’s voice finally came unstuck.

“Let go!” he yelled, kicking back. The tension on his belt vanished and he was turned back to face Techno.

The human’s eyebrows rose. “You can talk?”

Tubbo swallowed. Techno’ expression was difficult to read. All he could tell was that Techno was curious, but that didn’t comfort him much. “I can,” Tubbo said. “I’d appreciate you putting me down now.”

Techno blinked. “Well,” Techno said, his words slow, “I’d appreciate knowin’ why you were in my room researchin’  . . . skeletons on my phone.”

“That’s not your business,” Tubbo said.

“It’s my phone,” Techno said, incredulity coloring his tone. “It’s absolutely my business! And what are you?” Techno’s grip tightened slightly, restricting Tubbo from taking a full breath.

Tubbo pushed at the thumb against his chest and kicked. “Put me down!” There was no way he’d tell Techno about Wil, or about borrowers in general.

Techno narrowed his eyes. “Fine.”

The world lurched as Techno stepped away from the desk and knelt. Techno pulled a shoe box out from under his bed, returned to the desk and set it down.

Techno lowered Tubbo toward the box.

“Don’t you—!” Tubbo yelped as Techno let go. He was only a few inches from the bottom, but landed awkwardly and fell onto his butt.

Techno pulled out the desk chair and sat, looming over the borrower.

“Let’s try again,” Techno said. “What are you?”

Chapter Text

Tubbo clenched his fists and glared up at the human. Tears prickled at the edges of his eyes but he forced them back, along with the urge to cringe away from Techno’s gaze. “Let me out!” Tubbo yelled.

“Nah,” Techno said, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me why you were creepin’ around in my room.”

Tubbo huffed and dropped his gaze to his feet. There was no way he’d explain to Techno that Wilbur was hurt. It would be best if Techno thought Tubbo was alone. Maybe, if he came up with a plausible lie, Techno would let him leave. But Tubbo wasn’t sure how else he could explain looking up the skeletal system. Curiosity wasn’t a good explanation. It was too vague and Tubbo doubted Techno would buy it. Tubbo couldn’t think of another reason, and he’d been silent for too long.

“I was just curious,” Tubbo said, his voice softer. “I knew you had knowledge in your phone and I was just curious.”

Tubbo watched Techno face and held his breath. Techno stared down at him with a blank expression, but at Tubbo’s words a tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows. Tubbo couldn’t figure out what that meant.

“How’d you figure out the passcode?” Techno asked.

“I—“ Tubbo cut himself off. Techno knew Tubbo knew the code, which meant Techno knew he’d been around the house long enough to see someone use it. It limited what he could claim even more. “I watched you type in the code,” Tubbo said, his voice weak.

“When?”

Tubbo shrugged. “A while ago.”

“Uh-huh. And how many times have you used my phone?”

“Just this once,” Tubbo said, his gaze darting away from Techno’s eyes and to the wall behind him.

Techno stared at him for a moment before picking up the phone. “So I won’t find anything else in my history?”

Tubbo frowned. “In your what?”

Techno flicked a glance down at him as he scrolled. “My search history. Shows me the past activity that’s happened on my phone.”

Tubbo paled, but tried desperately to keep it from showing on his face. “There won’t be anything,” he said. Internally, he wondered what it would show. Could the device tell who’s used it? Would it be able to tell Techno about Tommy?

Techno hummed. “Well there’s nothing on the internet history but . . . “ Techno hit a button, tapped the screen and frowned. “I don’t recall using my music app at 3am a few nights ago.” Techno glared down at him. “I don’t appreciate the lying.”

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo said, his voice weaker then he’d wanted. “It was just music. I’m sorry.”

Techno blinked, ran a hand down his face and stood.

Tubbo’s heart leapt and he scrambled back as far away from Techno as the box would allow, pressing his back to the cardboard. But Techno didn’t reach for him. Instead the human knelt, disappearing from view and reappearing a moment later with the shoebox lid.

“Be right back,” Techno said and covered the box with the lid, covering Tubbo in darkness. There was a scraping sound as Techno set something down on top of the lid, then a moment later the sound of the door shutting.

Tubbo blinked as his vision adjusted, reaching up and pushing at the lid. It was close enough that he could touch it, but he couldn’t put much force on it. Tubbo gave up a second later.

Light caught Tubbo’s eye and he looked to see a hole in the cardboard at the far end of the box. He ran to it. It was circular, and just big enough for a human to push a thumb through as a handhold most likely.

Tubbo poked his head through easily, but his shoulders pressed against the edges of the hole. He glanced at the door, but could see or hear Techno. He ducked back inside the box and fumbled for his belt in the dark. Tubbo fumbled his knife from his belt.

The blade wasn’t serrated, but Tubbo pressed it to the edge of the hole and started sawing anyway. If he could make the gap just a little bigger, he could squirm out and be gone by the time Techno got back.

The knife wasn’t cutting through the cardboard though. Tubbo had it held in both hands, and was pressing his entire weight into it, but it just wasn’t cutting well enough.

Tubbo pulled the knife away from the edge, and tried to stab it into the cardboard near the gap instead. The point barely sunk into the fibers, but Tubbo pried up the bits of cardboard he could. He repeated the motion, picking away tiny pieces of the wall at a painfully slow pace. He was no where near widening the hole when the door opened again.

“Just, bare with me for a second,” Techno’s voice drifted in. “And, if I’m not dreamin’ this is gonna be weird.”

“Funny you say that mate . . .”

Tubbo drew back from the hole. That was Phil’s voice. Techno had gone and brought Phil in. Tubbo back away from the hole and returned to the wall farthest from the humans. He clutched his knife with both hands.

The scraping sound returned and suddenly the lid of the box was lifted away. Tubbo stared up at the expectant expression of Techno, and beside him the baffled stare of Phil. Phil blinked. “Another one!?” he yelled.

Techno’s head snapped to face him. “Hah? What do you mean, another one!?”

Phil hands ran though his hair. “I—fuck I found a little—person—in the kitchen this morning, but I thought it was a dream!”

“Wait so theres two?” Techno asked, glancing down at Tubbo.

Tubbo clenched his jaw. They both knew now. There was no way they’d assume this was a dream or something now. The humans knew about Wilbur and Tubbo and it was Tubbo’s fault. Phil and Techno spoke in rapid fire but Tubbo could hardly track the conversation past the pounding of his heart in his ears and the volume of his own breathing.

But Tubbo did catch Techno asking: “What if it’s an infestation?” Techno asked.

The word ‘infestation,’ brought to mind all the warnings and stories Wilbur had told him and Tommy as children. if a human thought they had an infestation, they’d call an exterminator; a human that could and would kill anything living in the walls. They’d used cruel traps of metal or glue, or poisons left out for the unknowing to try. Wilbur had even told them in a frail voice that they could turn the air toxic.

All of this ran through his head, and that combined with the two giants looming over him, staring at him, broke down the gate Tubbo had fortified.

A sob tore out of Tubbo’s throat. He pressed his palm to his mouth and clutched the knife to his chest with the other and trembled. The panic wouldn’t fade, and Tubbo decided to use the only tactic left he could think of.

“Please,” he hiccuped, “I’m sorry. I’m really, really, sorry. Please just let me go. I’ll go away and I won’t come back I promise. We’ll go please don’t call an exterminator.” Tubbo’s voice broke and he slid down the wall to curl into a ball. He knew he should keep his eyes on the humans, but it was too much so he pressed his eyes into his knees and tried to take comfort in the dark.

“Mate, hey, its okay,” Phil said. “No one’s calling an exterminator, Techno was just being a fucking idiot for second is all.”

Techno grumbled. “Hey, he broke into my room. I feel like my concerns are valid.” Tubbo wasn’t sure, but he thought there was a guilty edge to Techno’s tone.

“He’s like—ten Techno,” Phil hissed.

“I’m fourteen,” Tubbo mumbled, the words slipping out automatically.

“A teenager then,” Techno said.

“And still a child,” Phil replied. “Kid, why don’t you sit up for a second and we’ll talk. If you want, I can help you out of that box. Sound good?”

Tubbo pulled his face away from his knees but kept his eyes down. He didn’t trust Phil, but he’d let Wilbur go and he’d seemed like a nice man. Tubbo had know Phil for most of his life, the problem was Phil didn’t know him.

Wiping his eyes, Tubbo took a shaky breath and stood. Phil regarded him with a warm smile, while Techno glanced at him then away.

“Want me to give you a hand out of there?” Phil asked. he didn’t reach for Tubbo, just waited.

Tubbo rubbed his arm. “Can you turn the box?” It would be easy to step out if Phil moved it slowly, and he didn’t want to be grabbed right now.

“Course mate.” Phil reached for the box and Tubbo returned his knife to his belt.

Tubbo nodded to show he was ready and Phil moved the box. The floor tilted, but Phil kept the motion slow and steady and a moment later Tubbo hopped out of the box and onto the desk. He briefly debated sprinting for his rope. The silver hook was in his line of sight, still in place on the edge of the desk and glinting temptingly, but he knew he wouldn’t make it.

“Whats your name?” Phil asked.

Tubbo shuffled his feet. “Tubbo.”

“It’s nice to meet you Tubbo. I’m Phil, and this is Techno.” Tubbo resisted the urge to tell him he already knew. It was strange on so many levels to have the human Tubbo’d been living with most of his life introduce himself to him.

Tubbo nodded and the room fell silent for a second.

“So . . . “ Phil said. “Do you know, well I didn’t get his name, but the other . . . little guy I met this morning?” Phil winced but schooled his expression back into something pleasant.

Tubbo thought about denying knowing Wilbur, but it wouldn’t make sense. All it would take would be one look at Tubbo’s book lying on the desk or for Techno to mention specifically what Tubbo had been researching for Phil to figure it out.

“His name’s Wilbur,” Tubbo said.

Phil nodded. “How’s Wilbur doing?”

The lump in Tubbo’s throat returned. “He um,” Tubbo’s voice broke. He tried to speak but he knew f he tried he would cry again.

Phil paled. “Please tell me he’s not dead. Oh fuck—“

Tubbo shook his head and sniffed. “His leg’s broken.”

“Ah,” Techno said. “That’s why you were looking at skeletons.”

Tubbo nodded. “I need to set the leg, and I didn’t know how.” He wouldn’t mention Tommy. They didn’t need to know and he wouldn’t be the one to tell them. “Can I go home now?”

Techno opened his mouth but Phil elbowed him. “Course. But um, I would like to speak with you and Wilbur, when he’s feeling up to it.”

Tubbo nodded and they fell silent. When neither human moved Tubbo slowly made his way to the book he’d dropped on the desk and picked it up. He scanned the desk for his needle.

Techno’s hand appeared in his vision. The man plucked the needle off the desk from a distant corner and move it toward him. Tubbo took a set back, but Techno’s hand stopped a few inches from him, the needle resting in his open hand. Tubbo shot a nervous look at the human’s face, but Techno’s blank expression was back. When Tubbo didn’t move, Techno set the needle down and retracted his hand.

Tubbo picked up his needle and tucked it into his belt.

“Right,” Phil said, gripping Techno by the shoulders and steering him toward the door. “We’ll be speaking with you later then. Have a safe trip home.”

Tubbo watched them exit the room and sprinted for his grappling line.

Chapter Text

Tubbo spent his walk back through the walls trying to get his hands to stop shaking. He knew if he walked into the house as he was, Tommy and Wil would see his rattled nerves immediately, and he really didn’t feel like going over what just happened just yet. So Tubbo took deep breaths, shook the panic from his hands, and packed the anxiety away.

When he opened the front door he wore a small smile and held up the book. “Mission accomplished.”

Wilbur lay on the couch, his hands clamped over his ears, a dark glared aimed up at Tommy. Tommy sat on the arm of the couch, chin raised and bellowing; “33 bottles of beer on the wall, 33 bottles of beer!”

When Tommy caught sight of Tubbo he stopped and sprang off the couch. “You’re back! Thank fuck! I was starting to get worried you know.”

Wilbur removed his hands from his ears. “Thank christ,” he sighed.

“How’re you feeling Wilbur?” Tubbo asked, approaching the couch.

“Peachy,” Wilbur said, glancing at the dried blood crusting his palm.

“He’s in a mood,” Tommy said. “What did you find out?”

Tubbo flipped open the notebook to the sketches he made. “What I could find said to go to a doctor, but I was able to find this.” Tubbo tapped the page where he made his sketch of the leg bones. “This might work.”

Tommy glanced up at Wilbur’s leg and back at the book. “We can make it work.” His expression grew grim.

Wilbur watched them with furrowed brows. “This is going where I think it is, isn’t it?”

“You know it has to be set Wil,” Tubbo said.

Wilbur grimaced. “I’ll be honest guys, I don’t really want you trying unless you know you can do it.”

Tubbo opened the notebook to the page he’d drawn on and held it out to Wilbur. Wilbur scanned the page. As he did Tubbo realized, to his relief, Wilbur seemed much more lucid than when he’d left.

Wilbur blew out a slow breath. “Alright. If you think you can do it, then let’s get it over with.”

Tubbo nodded and accepted the notebook back. He and Tommy huddled over Wilbur’s leg, comparing the limb to the sketch. They took their time with the examination, whispering back and forth on if they should push or pull, angle here or there, how quickly they should move. They had no way of knowing how the bone was broken, or in how many places. The only thing they could do was tug it back into the right shape and hope for the best.

“Are you ready?” Tubbo asked, once he and Tommy were satisfied with their plan.

Wilbur’s expression was tight. “As I’ll ever be.”

Tommy started cutting away the splint stabilizing Wilbur’s leg and Tubbo set out the sketch next to the leg. Tommy pulled the bandages and splints away as gently as he could, but Wilbur still winced as the supports left.

“On three,” Tubbo said. He set his hands gentle on Wilbur’s foot and ankle, forcing the tremble from his limbs. He needed to be steady for this. They might only get one shot at this, or they could make it worse.

Tommy, being bigger than Tubbo, gripped Wilbur’s leg just above the knee. If Wilbur jerked, it was Tommy’s job to make sure he didn’t move his leg.

Tubbo flicked on last glance up at them. Tommy met his gaze, his mouth a thin line but his eyes determined. Wilbur had his eyes locked on the ceiling above him, his hands balled into pale fists.

“One,” Tubbo said. And, as they’d planned, Tubbo pulled Wilbur’s foot and angled it just to the right. There was a soft click, just before Wilbur screamed and Tommy had to throw his weight down into holding him steady. But in an instant it was over.

“Ah fuck,” Wilbur said, his voice hoarse as he swiped at his eyes.

Tubbo scanned the leg. It was hard to be sure with the swelling, but it looked straight. He really, really hoped it was as Tommy set the splits back in place and Tubbo rewrapped the bandages around them.

“Sorry,” Tubbo said once he was done.

Wilbur’s voice was strained. “Needed to be done. Can I sleep now?”

Tubbo peered into Wilbur’s eyes, and seeing his gaze clear and his pupils the right size, nodded.

Wilbur sighed, let his head drop back onto the pillow, and was out in moments.

Tommy and Tubbo exchange a silent glance before shutting off the lights and creeping off to their own beds.

Tommy started snoring only a few minutes after they’d layed down, but Tubbo stared at the ceiling for a long time. Every muffled thump from above made hime tense. Things were going to be different from now on, one way or another.

Tubbo couldn’t help the little spark of optimism that insisted Techno and Phil were nice and they’d get along just fine now that they knew about the borrowers. But if they weren’t, if they didn’t understand, they could hurt them easily. They could throw them out, capture them and show them to the other humans and then no borrower would be safe.

Tubbo sighed and rolled over. Either way, they couldn’t run now, not with Wilbur’s leg the way it was. If things looked dangerous, Wil would probably tell them to run and leave him, but Tubbo knew he and Tommy never would.

Whatever came next, they’d be together.

- - - - - - - - -

Wilbur stared at the wall and thought he was going to lose his mind.

He’d spent the last three days on the couch and was ready to tear his hair out from the boredom. Sure, it was coupled with stress, but he couldn’t do anything about the things that needed getting done with a broken fucking leg. He needed to meet with Phil, and the knowledge weighted on him. Every muffled thump from above made Wilbur jump, images of the human’s tearing up the floorboards crowding his imagination. He wasn’t sure how long they had until the humans lost their patience and came looking for him.

Between the bed rest and their supply of ibuprofen powder the pain was manageable, but Wilbur needed to get back up and active. And besides, the bone might be healed enough by now.

Wilbur sat up, leaned forward, and tried to push himself to standing. He got a few inches of the couch before pain sparked up his leg. He collapsed back onto the cushions with a frustrated groan.

Tommy appeared in the doorway. “You’d better not be trying something idiotic like standing up.”

“Course not.” Wilbur muttered.

Tommy glowered at him a moment longer before rolling his eyes. “Uh huh.”

Tubbo drifted into the room, heading for the kitchen. Wilbur watched the anxious set of his shoulders with a frown. Tubbo wandered the kitchen for a minute before sighing. “I uh. Think I should tell you guys something.”

Wilbur straightened, anxiety creeping up his spine. Tommy leaned back against the wall. “Yeah? Whats up?”

Tubbo’s gaze wandered the room. “You know how I used Techno’s phone to find out how to set Wilbur’s leg?”

Sudden fear gripped Wilbur. Tubbo wouldn’t be so nervous if something trivial had happened. “What happened?”

Tubbo grimaced. “Techno caught me.”

“What?” Tommy bellowed. Wilbur’s words seemed to be stuck in his chest.

“He um, caught me. And showed me to Phil. They both know about me.”

“Did he hurt you?” Wilbur asked. His gaze ran over Tubbo as he thought over the past few days. Had Tubbo been limping? wincing? How hadn’t he realized something had happened? But Tubbo shook his head.

“He grabbed me,” Tubbo said, playing with the edge of his shirt. “It was um, scary. But he let me go once we talked and Phil told him to.”

“Good,” Tommy snapped. “I’d have stabbed the shit out of him if he had. I’d have scratched the fuck outta his glassed and burned his fuckin books and-.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur interrupted the boy’s tirade before looking to Tubbo. “Come here.”

Tubbo darted over to Wilbur and let the man envelop him in a hug. “I’m glad you’re safe,” Wilbur said.

Tubbo nodded and pressed his face into Wilbur’s shoulder. Tubbo pulled away after a moment, his eyes red. “I’m sorry. They both know now and it’s my fault.”

“No, no it’s not. I was going to have to meet Phil eventually, and he’d have told Techno. I’d have preferred they didn’t know about you but thats okay. We’re okay.”

Wilbur ruffled Tubbo’s hair. “Once I heal up I have a plan to make sure the human’s keep playing nice. And we’ll be able to run if we have to once I’m healed. We’ll be okay.”

“What plan?” Tommy asked.

Wilbur smirked. “I need you boys to run a few errands today.”

- - - - - - - - -

Wilbur glared at the dusty guitar in the corner of the room.

Tommy and Tubbo were off doing the things Wilbur had asked them to do, and he was incredibly bored. He hadn’t been able to do anything for the past few hours besides worry about the boys.

He hadn’t sent them borrowing, of course. They already had the things they needed for the plan, but he still didn’t like letting them out of his sight after the incident with the humans.

Wilbur drummed a finger against his leg, huffed a sigh, and leaned across the couch to grip the guitar. The first chord he strummed was horrifically out of tune.

Wilbur spent the next couple of hours getting the guitar in tune and practicing some of his old songs. His fingers ached, having lost the muscle to make the task easy, but he remembered how to play.

At some point, he stared singing along, and the tension melted from his shoulders. He didn’t know how long he played, the music erasing any thought of the uncertain future.

Wilbur would later learn Tommy and Tubbo had returned early, but sat outside the door and listened for a long time.

Chapter Text

Wilbur drummed his fingers against his belt and blew out a slow breath. He stood in front of the panel that lead to the kitchen, a sliver of sunlight visible beneath the wood. He’d been there for a few minutes now.

He groaned. It was one thing to step out into the kitchen when he knew the humans were away, but another to do it with the intention of getting their attention. “Fuck,” Wilbur sighed, shook out his hands and pushed open the panel.

Without pausing, he set the panel aside and cane in hand, strode out onto the tiles. A scan of the room showed no humans around, but they should still be home. He checked the driveway only minutes earlier and the car was parked there.

Wilbur leaned on his cane for a moment, listening. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the hum of the AC. Sighing, Wilbur scanned the kitchen, his gaze lingering on the vent near the ceiling. In the darkness beyond Tommy and Tubbo would be looking back at him. Wilbur wasn’t sure where he should be in the kitchen. He just had to remain in sight of the vent, and take it easy on his leg.

After considering the counter top, the tile floor, even the living room coffee table, Wilbur decided on the dining room table. As bad as his memories of it were, Wilbur would feel better off the floor and as close to the exit as possible. He’d considered the kitchen counter, but the tiles made it very difficult to scale. So, dining table it was.

After casting his line and slipping his cane into his belt, Wilbur started the long climb up. By the time he pulled himself over the edge of the table, he was sweating from the effort and a deep ache had started in his injured leg. He sat there for a moment catching his breath and waiting for the spike of pain to fade a bit. Once the pain dimmed to manageable levels, Wilbur braced his cane on the table and pushed himself up.

Only one thing left to do.

Wilbur glowered at the salt and pepper shaker on the center of the table. Both were made of wood, so they’d be sturdy enough. Wilbur gripped the top of the salt shaker and pulled it down onto its side with a soft thud. After that, it was easy to roll it towards the edge.

When the shaker was only an inch away from the drop, Wilbur hesitated. All of his instincts were screaming at him to stay quiet and hidden, but he reminded himself of the plan, grit his teeth, and shoved the shaker off the edge.

A moment later the loud clatter of the wooden shaker against the tile below echoed through the house. Wilbur winced, his knuckles whitening on his cane. He listened for the distant rustle and thuds of movement, but heard none.

Wilbur ran a hand down his face and turned to the pepper shaker.

A few seconds later and another loud bang rang through the house.

This time Wilbur heard an irritated voice somewhere down the hall and the sound of footsteps. Adrenaline iced his veins at the sound, but he stayed where he was and gripped the cane with both hands to steady himself.

A moment later Techno rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. His pink hair stuck up in odd tufts and he blinked at the shakers on the tile.

“What . . .” then Techno’s gaze rose to the table and locked with Wilbur’s. Wilbur crushed the urge to dart away and instead raised a hand.

“Hello,” Wilbur said, forcing a polite smile. “I believe you and Phil wanted to speak to me?”

“Uhhh. . .” Techno stared a Wilbur for a few heart beats. “Yeah sounds about right. I’ll just— just be right back, then.” With that Techno walked back out of the kitchen, back stiff.

Wilbur glanced at the darkened vent grate and shift his weight off his bad foot. A moment later Techno returned, with Phil right behind him. Phil was similarly blurry eyed and disheveled, but when he caught sight of Wilbur he straightened.

They approached the table, looming over Wilbur.

“Hey mate,” Phil said, “glad to see you’re feeling better. Wilbur, was it?”

Wilbur nodded. “Yes. I’m doing better.” Wilbur’s emotions hung somewhere between terrified and awkward and he wasn’t sure how this conversation was supposed to go.

“Can we take a seat?” Phil asked after a beat of silence.

That would bring them both closer to Wilbur, but they also would loom over him as much, so Wilbur nodded. Phil and Techno exchanged a glance before they slowly pulled out chairs and took a seat.

Both kept their hands under the table, which Wilbur appreciated, but he still found himself taking a few steps back.

“Well then,” Wilbur said, “I heard you met Tubbo.”

Techno glances away.

“Yes, uh,” Phil shifts in his seat, “how’s he doing?”

“Better. You scared him quiet badly you know.” Wilbur’s tone stayed light, but his anger returned with the words.

“We are sorry about that.” Phil paused and glanced at Techno. Techno stared silently ahead, and Phil elbowed him. “Right?”

“Yes. Sorry,” Techno said, grimacing.

Silence filled the space between them. Wilbur wasn’t ready to forgive them, but he couldn’t say that to their faces. But he also couldn’t find the energy to offer up some halfhearted consolation.

Phil cleared his throat. “So, I’m Phil. This is Techno. It’s nice to officially meet you.”

Wilbur nodded. “Yes. Well. What do you want to talk about?”

Phil blew out a breath. “I guess just, understand what you are? Why you’re here? What to do now? That sort of thing.”

Wilbur had thought for a long time about what he would tell Phil and Techno when they asked these questions. And he’d decided to stick to the truth, but the minimal truth.

“I’m a Borrower,” Wilbur said. “Which you’d understand as basically a tiny human.”

“How many of you guys are there?” Techno asked.

Wilbur shrugged. “Around the world? No idea. Communication isn’t exactly easy between us.”

“I mean here,” Techno pointed down, “in our home.”

Wilbur frowned. This is where things could go bad. “Only Tubbo and I.”

“Okay. And you two live in the walls or something right? And you just take what you feel like?” Techno’s expression was flat, but his tone held an accusatory edge.

“Hey!” Phil said, elbowing Techno again. “You’re being rude.”

“And they might be stealing from us and living in our house. I just want to know how long they’ve been mooching off us.”

Wilbur gave Techno a sharp smile. “Well we do take small things on occasion. Things you wouldn’t miss. After all, can you name a single thing you’ve looked for recently and found missing?”

Techno glared at Wilbur for a moment. “That’s still stealing. And trespassing.”

“That implies we haven’t carried our weight in return for items you’d consider little to no worth.”

“And how have you done that?” Techno asked.

“Do you remember the leaky pipe in the bathroom wall two month ago?” Wilbur asked.

Techno paused and Phil’s expression turned puzzled. “No,” Techno said, his voice having lost some of its bite.

Wilbur grinned. “You’re welcome. It was a bitch to fix.”

Techno glared at the Borrower. “Thanks. But that was one thing.”

“Oh,” Wilbur’s smile grew, his fear forgotten. “What about the roaches that tried to infest the kitchen last year? Thought that went away on its own did you? What about that key you dropped behind the stove and you found in the middle of the floor an hour later? Or Phil’s alarm clock just happening to go off during the robbery?”

“That was you?” Phil exclaimed. He pressed a hand to his forehead and leaned back. “Holy shit that makes sense.”

Techno had wilted at Phil’s side, his grimace back in place. “Oh,” he said.

“Yes, oh.” Wilbur said. “So we’re not parasites, thank you.”

Techno glanced away. “I never said that.”

“But you very well implied it.” Wilbur snapped. “We’re small, not stupid. Which mean I know you can play nice here and call and exterminator later. Speaking of, look at that vent on the wall behind you please.”

Both human frowned in confusion before they turned to look at the kitchen vent.

“Tubbo!” Wilbur yelled, waving an arm.

A second later a piece of paper the length of Wilbur’s arm fluttered from the slats in the vent and drifted to the floor.

“Uh that’s nice?” Techno said.

“That wasn’t to impress you, it was to prove Tubbo has eyes on us.” Wilbur said.

Phil glanced at the vent with a concerned look. “Why’d we need to know that, mate?”

“Because, I want you to know that if you ever hurt Tubbo, if you hurt me, or if you call and exterminator for the pests in your walls, one of us will know.” Wilbur leaned against his cane and braced himself. This was the point where things could go very wrong. “It’s pretty easy to store matches and paper in the walls you know.”

Phil stared at Wilbur in amazement which Techno’s darkened. “Are you threatening to burn our house down!?” Phil exclaimed.

“It’s my house too,” Wilbur said. “So I’d really prefer not to. And we won’t so long as no one gets hurt. I’m simply asking that Tubbo and I are respected.”

“Mate, neither of us want to hurt you or Tubbo. I’m sorry if we scared him but don’t you think this is a bit dramatic?”

Wilbur glared at him then Techno. “You bruised the fuck out of his ribs, trapped him in a box, and seem unhappy about us being here. Pretty sure you wouldn’t have done that to a human child. So no, I don’t consider this dramatic.”

The two humans were silent.

Wilbur dropped his glare. “All I’m asking is that you let us keep doing what we’ve been doing for years now. We won’t bother you if you don’t bother us, and we’ll keep doing the usual maintenance. It’ll be like we’re not even here.” Wilbur highly doubted things would actually go back to normal. But Wilbur was only buying time. Time to recover, and pack for a move they would need to eventually make.

Wilbur waited for the humans to process what he’d said, his shoulder growing tenser with every passing second. There was a chance they wouldn’t take his threat seriously. They could still grab him, hold him and call an exterminator, or simply throw him out the door. Tubbo and Tommy could burn the house down, but not before Techno and Phil did what they wanted. It was also their absolute last resort and distraction, as without the house and supplies they would almost certainly die.

Phil leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Okay. Can’t say I’m happy about the fire threat but it sound like there no harm in you being here.”

“Phil,” Techno said, “he just threatened to burn down our house.”

Phil shrugged. “His house too. Doubt he’d do it lightly. Besides, I just wanted to have a talk. I’m not that bothered by the idea of them being here.”

Techno groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fine.” He glowered at Wil. “But no more poking around on my phone or through my things. Got it?”

“Fine,” Wilbur said in the same clipped tone Techno had used. “Glad we have an agreement.”

Wilbur took his hook off his belt and started toward the table’s edge.

“Wait,” Phil said. Wilbur flinched, but stopped to look at the human expectantly.

“We should have a way to contact you, and vice versa.”

Wilbur snorted. “Well that first part’s easy. Just knock on the walls or yell for one of us. Tubbo’s not allowed to come out to see you but I will.” Wilbur didn’t like the idea of having to keep meeting with Phil and Techno like this, but if it kept them pacified he’d do it. “As for us contacting you I don’t think we will.”

“Still,” Phil said, “just in case. I guess you could leave a note on the counter? Or set off my alarm clock again if it’s an emergency.”

“Sure,” Wilbur said, waving a hand and reaching the edge of the table. “Goodbye Phil, Techno.”

Techno rose, chair scraping against tile and left the room without glancing back. Phil sighed. “We’ll bye Wilbur.” Phil rose and left the room, following Techno down the hall.

Once the humans were out of sight, Wilbur rappelled off the table and returned to the kitchen panel, slipping back into the safety of the walls. He was halfway home when two sets of footsteps and the bobbing light of a lantern grew behind him.

Wilbur stopped, turning to see Tommy and Tubbo run up to join him.

“That was badass, big man!” Tommy said. “Had them scared, you did.”

Tubbo laughed. “Their faces were priceless.”

Wilbur smiled. “have to admit, that was a bit satisfying. But remember, they still can’t see you. The less we interact the better.”

“blah blah blah,” Tommy groaned. “I know! We’re not gonna go strolling up to them okay?”

“That means no more using Techno’s phone.”

Both boys erupted into protests, each growing louder to be heard over the other, as Wilbur lifted his cane and continued his walk home.

Wilbur put his free hand over one of his ears and winced. “I don’t want to hear it! That’s final.”

The boys ran after him. Eventually the space between the walls grew quiet and the light of the lantern faded as the Borrowers got further away. The entire way home they badgered him about the value of Techno’s phone, and Wilbur denied them the whole way. Wilbur played the guitar again that night.

Chapter Text

“We should check the mail,” Tubbo said. They’d all been sitting in their living room, working on simple chores for an hour or so, and Tubbo was bored.

Tommy paused in his cow carving, glancing up at Tubbo. “Oh yeah. It has been a bit since we checked that. Let’s go.”

“Hold on!” Wilbur said, dropping the plastic sheets he’d been sewing on the table. “I can’t make that trip right now, and you two can’t go alone.”

“Sure we can,” Tommy said. “It’s only what? A twenty foot hike? And it’s day time, and the weather’s nice.”

“Yes, but that’s still too dangerous.”

“I know you don’t like the idea,” Tubbo said, “but if we’re thinking about moving it’s important to know what’s going on in the area.”

Wilbur’s gaze slid from Tubbo to glare down at his broken leg.

Tommy, sensing Wilbur’s hesitation, pressed on. “Come on. We promise to be careful and come right back if there’s something strange. Please? You’ve taken us dozens of times now, we know the routine.”

Wilbur set a stern glare on Tommy and Tubbo. “You’ll stay out of sight and in the shadows.”

The boys nodded in sync.

“And you’ll keep your needles out at all times.”

“Yes,” they both said.

“And you’ll stay out of the water.”

“Yes, yes,” they said.

“And you’ll watch out for hawks—”

Tommy sighed. “Yes Wilbur! We know what to do!”

Wilbur ran a hand down his face. “Alright. I’ll walk you to the exit.”

“Yes,” Tommy crowed. He dropped his carving to the table and he and Tubbo scrambled to get their belts. Wilbur sighed, gripped his cane, and rose to follow.

At the hatch to the crawlspace, Wilbur shook his head. “No, I’ve changed my mind. You two need to stay here.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy groaned. “We’ll be fine!”

“But what if you run into a snake!” Wilbur said, voice rising. “Or- or a cat? What if you get stuck somewhere until night and then—”

“Wilbur!” Tubbo interrupted, “If any of those things happen, we’ll do what you would. We can run, we’ll hide and we know how to use our needles. We can do this.”

Wilbur looked them both over. They were almost as tall as him now. They were still kids, but he’d been about their age when he’d dragged them through the forest to find this house. Today the weather was nice, the sun was high, the path was well known, and it was as good a day as any for them to try this.

“Okay,” Wilbur sighed. “Okay.” He handed Tubbo a backpack and Tubbo swung the pack onto his shoulders.

Tommy grinned and darted to the hatch. He and Tubbo opened the panel and paused.

Tubbo elbowed Wilbur. “We’ll be okay man. We’ll be back in what? An hour?”

“Hah!” Tommy barked. “Not even that long.”

Wilbur ruffled Tubbo’s hair. “Alright then. Off with you two while the sun’s still up. Please be careful.”

“We promise, big man,” Tommy said, grinning. Then he set his grapple in place and rappelled down into the space below. Tubbo flashed Wilbur a smile before doing the same. Wilbur watched them reach the ground, look up to wave, and set off toward the path. They disappeared into the grass, and after several minutes of watching the place they vanished, Wilbur sat against the wall, took out his sewing, and waited.

- - - - - - - - -

Tubbo pushed aside blades of grass with his free hand, his needle, pointed toward the ground, held in the other. For now the grass was tall enough to conceal them. It had been a while since Techno or Phil had mowed the backyard, but they would need to stick close to trees and bushes soon.

Tubbo noticed that some of the blades of grass still had orbs or dew clinging to their sides. Grinning, he waited until Tommy passed underneath one before smacking the plant with his needle. The grass shivered and sent the bead of dew down onto Tommy’s hair.

“Eugh!” Tommy made a surprised noise before whirling on Tubbo. “You bitch!” Tommy lunged for another nearby leaf, scooping up the orb of water and flinging it at Tubbo.

The water burst against Tubbo’s shirt and both boys laughed for a moment before returning their focus to the way ahead. While normally they might have both turned this into a game, they knew better than to let their guard down so far out here.

They weaved through the grass until the forest of blades began to thin. They had reached the edge of the yard.

Tubbo and Tommy stayed low in the grass, peering out into the bare forest floor. The forest behind Phil and Techno’s house was shaded and full of tall oak and birch trees. Unfortunately, the trees were fairly far apart, and there were almost no bushes, which made this part of the trip the most dangerous.

Tubbo scanned the branches of the tree above, but couldn’t find any sign of hawks. “I think we’re clear to find a leaf.”

Tommy nodded and they crept along the grass line until they found a leaf, brown and curled. Together they turned it and ducked under it.

“Ready?” Tommy asked.

“Ready.”

They left the grass and set off across the dirt of the forest floor. They had to shuffle past other dead leaves and small patches of mud. Every few minutes they would pause and scan the trees overhead.

At one point, a spider the size of Tubbo’s forearm came scuttling toward him and Tubbo had to kick it away before it climbed up his leg.

The burble of water let them know they were getting close.

They reached a cluster of small bushes and large-leafed plants. After ducking into the shadows of the foliage, they set down the leaf. The bubbling water was much louder now, and soon the slightly damp earth beneath them turned to soft moss. Tommy pushed aside a bush branch to reveal the creek.

“Easy!” Tommy said, a smug smile on his face. Then it dimmed to puzzlement. “Wait, where is the tin?”

Tubbo laughed. “This way big man.” Tubbo led Tommy a few feet down stream. The low thrum of dragonflies surrounded them, and occasionally one of the bugs would speed past them, making the boys jump. After picking their way over mossy rocks they reached the foot of a huge oak growing by the creek, its roots weaving across the bank.

Wedged in between two of the roots and edged with rust, was an old mint tin. Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo had painted it a dark green to help it blend in.

“Alright! Let’s see what the captain left us.” With that, Tommy threw the tin open. The hinges squeaked and Tubbo joined Tommy to peer into the tin.

Inside were the usual two notebooks wrapped generously in saran wrap. Beside them was a lump of pencil lead and shiny purple flower attached to a hook. It took Tubbo a moment to recognize it as a human’s earring.

Tommy snatched up the flower and inspected it while Tubbo opened the right notebook. The first half of the notebook was packed with handwritten text. Tubbo flipped to the end and scanned the dates at the edge of the paper until the found the new entry.

Hello again boys! was written at the start. Hope all is well. Big news! The borrower family in the next neighborhood moved away. Not sure where they went. Also the house down the street from you, the one on Prime Drive, adopted a cat, so keep an eye out for it. Anyway, I found a neat earring I thought you boys might like. Might be a nice decoration or something. Stay safe and I’ll be back around in a few weeks. Signed, Captain Puffy.

“Hmm,” Tubbo said, “there’s a new cat we’ll have to watch out for. And the other borrowers are gone.”

“That fucking sucks,” Tommy muttered. They had always thought it would be nice to meet the only other stationary borrower family they knew of, but that opportunity was gone now it seemed.

“Yeah,” Tubbo sighed, wrapping the notebook back up. He replaced it and then opened the other book. This notebook was full of Wilbur’s handwriting. Some later entries had Tommy or Tubbo’s writing, but mostly Wilbur’s. Tubbo picked up the pencil lead.

Hi Puffy! Tubbo wrote. Things are a bit rough at the moment. Wilbur broke his leg about a week ago, and the humans saw Wilbur and I. We’re okay, the humans are leaving us alone for now. Wilbur threatened to burn the house down. That probably sounds like a disaster but we’ve got it under control. We saw a new family move in across the street about three weeks ago. They have a toddler. No pets. Thanks for the earring! Tommy likes it a lot. Be safe. Signed, Tubbo.

Tubbo knelt, opened the backpack Wilbur had given him, and took out the packaged food and coil of string, set them in the tin, and shut it. Tommy stuffed the earring into the now empty pack and they both stood.

“Let’s get back before Wil dies of a heart attack,” Tommy said.

Tubbo snorted. “I think we might already be too late, man.”

The boys laughed and made their way over the twisting roots of the oak and around the tree. From here they could see the back door of the house. Tubbo squinted at the house through the branches of the shrub that half concealed them.

“Gimme a second to find another leaf,” Tommy said.

Something flicked in Tubbo’s peripheral. His gaze snapped to the motion and he froze.

Crouched only a few feet away, its wide gold eyes locked on the boys, was a cat. It was a dark tabby, and the flicking of its tail as it watched them was what caught Tubbo’s attention.

“Tommy,” Tubbo said, frozen in place. His voice came out far quieter than he’d wanted. The cat’s tail flicked across the dirt.

Behind Tubbo, Tommy muttered something and crunched through the leaves. The cat’s eyes snapped to the source of the sound, it shifted, its muscles tensing.

Pushing against fear’s iron grip on his lungs, Tubbo forced the yell out, “Tommy!”

The cat sprang at them. Tubbo heard Tommy yell behind him as he scrambled away, needle raised.

But the cat ignored Tubbo, its shadow passing over him as it pounced at Tommy. Tommy had his needle up and his feet planted, but the cat smacked him aside with a lazy swipe.

Tommy tumbled through the leaves as the cat darted after him.

“Tommy!” Tubbo screamed. He ran after them, leaping over stones and kicking leaves aside.

Tommy pushed himself to his feet just in time for the cat to take another swipe at him and he was sent crashing through the leaves again.

Tubbo reached the hind leg of the cat and without slowing his momentum, pointed his needle and drove it into the cat’s leg. It slid in all the way to Tubbo’s hand. The cat startled, letting out an angry yowl and kicking Tubbo away as it leapt.

Tubbo landed on his back, the back of his head bouncing off the packed earth. He jumped to his feet, shaking off the dizziness and noticing the blood slicking his needle.

“Tubbo!” Tommy shouted. Tubbo looked to see him at the base of the tree, eyes wide and staring over Tubbo’s shoulder. Tubbo didn’t dare look behind. Instead, he focused his gaze on the space between the roots at Tommy’s back.

“Tommy, hide there, now!” Tubbo yelled, running for Tommy and the potential hiding place.

Tommy shot a glance behind him and saw the hole. He edged towards it, but returned his gaze to beyond Tubbo’s shoulder. “Hurry! Hurry!”

Tubbo sprinted faster than he ever had before, his eyes fixed on Tommy’s. Tubbo knew the cat was chasing him based off the growing panic in his friend’s eyes, and the way he reached for Tubbo across the impossible distance, as if he could pull him to safety. “Come on!”

The leaves rustled behind Tubbo and he was sure at any moment the cat’s claws would slash down across his back. He was almost there, he was so close, just a few more steps.

Tommy ran to the hole, his eyes still locked on Tubbo and they met at the entrance. Tommy dove in with Tubbo right behind him. Tommy hit the dirt and rolled.

Tubbo felt himself jerk back before he could land, his shirt collar tight on his neck. He choked out a yell. The cat must have hooked his shirt.

Before the cat could pull its paw back and Tubbo with it, Tommy slammed into him and dropped his weight. The rip of tearing cloth filled the air and suddenly they fell. Tommy grabbed Tubbo’s torn shirt and dragged him into the furthest corner of the hole.

They huddled together and watched the paw slap the side of the tree root and paw at the dirt walls. The cat growled, low and annoyed, before withdrawing its paw. The leaves rustled and it paced the area.

After almost twenty minutes of tense waiting, cobwebs clinging to their clothes and hair, they could still hear the cat above them. And the little hole they huddled in was getting darker.

“What are we gonna do?” Tommy whispered.

Tubbo stared at the little sliver of orange twilight. “I don’t know.”

They listened to the cat pace through the leaves, and waited.