Chapter Text
Tommy sat shellshocked on an overhanging stretch of the prime path, the old wooden walkway creaking dangerously under his weight, albeit his concerning lack thereof. He didn’t know what he had expected when he had returned for death, perhaps he hadn’t considered returning after all, but nobody needed to know that. Unshed tears sat heavily in Tommy’s eyes, seemingly weighing down his gaze to the distant floor of which the prime path hung above. It was almost funny, how people reacted to him nowadays, and if he could find it in himself to care, the best way to describe his conditions it would be would be ‘shitty’.
Thats a funny thought, he supposed, to compare how he would have acted should he care. Should he still find a fire within himself to rebel, to suggest they kill dream, maybe. But alas, seeing Tubbo for the first time after months (a few weeks for Tubbo) was shit, need he be eloquent. He felt… empty he supposed. Like someone had taken the real Tommy and left some estranged shell behind. He can relate to Ghostbur in that way, as if there was another Tommy still wandering around in the afterlife and he was some listless shade of the 'great hero TommyInnit'. Unable to die, yet standing dead on his feet, waiting for the part of him that everyone loved to come back so he could be whole again.
He frowned at that. Tommy remembered seeing the rings on Ranbbo and Tubbo’s fingers, the little bubble of love and acceptance that seemed to hang around them as Tommy stood mere inches away from being the object of such acceptance.
It wasn’t fair, he thought, to die and not even have someone to return to, not even have that warmth knowing someone cared you were there or not. Tommy’s been cold for a long while. At first he thought Sam would provide that warmth, but it seemed that comfort and familiarity was replaced in a cell of scorching lava and cold obsidian. His screams bouncing off the walls for Sam to save him. For his trust to not have been in vain. Tommy was naive. He knows better now.
But alas, the world didn’t stop for Tommy, not when people wouldn’t even provide the same courtesy. The sun still rose, still set and caught brilliant rays on the tears falling from his face, turning them to ichor staining his cheeks.
Just as Tommy was about to leave, perhaps set his pillow on fire to imitate a persons hold, a creaking alerted him to another figure approaching. Perhaps he should be more alert, more wary of danger, but as he craned his neck to see the newcomer (Maybe Tubbo wanted to hang out- Maybe Tubbo still wanted him-) his shoulders relaxed slightly. White dress shirt turning golden and fading rays catching a trench of white marring Quackity’s face, the golden tooth seemingly glowing as he smiled at the child sitting precariously on the path. Quackity, he thought, had been one of the best to react to his return, despite the confusion upon first seeing Tommy. It warmed his heart briefly, knowing Quackity was defending him even in his supposed death. And now as Quackity approached he considered his ambitious friend as one of the few which hadn’t stabbed him in the back. It was a concerningly small amount, those.
“Whacha doin’ all the way out here Tommy?”
Casual. Easy. And yet Tommy noticed the undertone of worry in Quackity’s voice. It was nice.
“Jus’ enjoying the sunset Big Q… I’ll head home soon”
A lie. A blatant one at that. Quackity’s concern grew for his friend sitting on the path. Ever since Pogtopia there seemed to be something off with Tommy. And Quackity was convinced everyone else was ignoring it for the sake of convenience. Quackity was concerned for Tommy. A heartwarming thing, really. But Quackity was also angry. He was so very angry, at all the people who used Tommy, his partner in crime, a brother, if you will. He was angry for Tommy and deep down he knew that was something Tommy had been deprived of, someone to be angry for him. He took a seat beside his friend, his gut twisting at the vacant look in Tommy’s eyes, the brilliant sky blue now stone grey, diamond hues seemingly defiled from betrayal after betrayal and so much hurt. The prime path seemed to bend a little under Quackity’s weight, the groan of the wood telling of just how old it was, fragile planks darkened as the last of the sun finally slipped behind some distant mountain, a chill instantly setting in its wake.
Quackity could see goosebumps rise on Tommy’s arms (why are they so thin...) while Tommy remained still at his side, fringe shifting slightly in a frigid breeze. Quackity was quite certain that if Tommy stayed in his dirt hovel tonight it would either collapse on him or her would freeze in there.
At that an unusual protective instinct swept through him.
See, Quackity was ambitious, and power hungry, perhaps even slightly deranged, but he was also fiercely protective. And now that his fiance’s had fucked off to their own little fairytale kingdom Quackity found himself projecting that protectiveness towards Tommy. And far too many people had hurt Tommy for Quackity’s liking.
“Say, Tommy”
Quackity hoped this went well, for the sake of keeping Tommy safe. He was sure he had spare rooms at the casino anyway, far larger and warmer than what Tommy was exposing himself to.
“Yea, big man?”
“How about staying with me in Las Nevadas?”