Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wilbur had been abandoned at 6 years old, left at the steps of an orphanage, which he didn’t even realize was an orphanage at the time. He sat on the steps for hours, ignoring the caretakers that insisted he come inside. He kept telling them that his Dad would be back for him, that he was going to go back home any minute now. Eventually, though, it settled in that he was never going back home.

A year later, he stopped caring about his father, stopped wishing and hoping that he would come back to take him home. His father was a drunk, a coward, only caring about himself, his own safety. He didn’t care about Wilbur, and Wilbur learned that the hard way.

Only a few months later, Wilbur was put in the foster system, taken from the orphanage, and brought to a new home, one that was supposed to be his forever home. It wasn’t. Wilbur was angry at the world, at the people around him, even if they had done nothing wrong. Even at 7 years old, he was bitter and full of a burning rage. He lashed out, refused to cooperate, letting out the building hatred he had at everything he laid his eyes on. The family he stayed with was nice, patient, a good family. Despite that, however, they weren’t equipped to care for and raise a child that was angry at the world. They sent him back two months after he arrived.

Wilbur’s second house was worse than the first. The parents weren’t abusive per se, but they were certainly negligent and rude. They put up a good front for others and they gave him everything he needed and even a bit more, but they didn’t really seem to care for Wilbur. He was sent back a bit quicker this time when he became too much of a nuisance to handle.

He bounced around from house to house very quickly, becoming a “problem child” by the fourth. 6 years after he was dropped off at those orphanage steps, he shows up at the door of one Mr. Phil Craft Watson. Mr. Michael had said that he knew Mr. Watson personally and that he was going to end up being Wilbur’s forever home, but Wilbur didn’t realize how true that statement was yet.

Wilbur entered the home expecting it to be another month-and-done situation like it had been for the last four years, with very few exceptions excluded. Phil welcomed him with open arms right out the gate, giving him a tour of the house and letting him put away his things while he had a chat with Mr. Michael about some official papers or whatnot. Wilbur knew the drill, Phil didn’t even have to bother him with the information.

Wilbur didn’t unpack, keeping his things in his suitcase for when he inevitably left the house in a few weeks. Instead, he pulled his MP3 player from the side of the suitcase and plugged in his headphones. One of the buds only worked if you angled the plug the right way, but Wilbur didn’t mind. He turned it on full volume, drowning out his own thoughts. He didn’t care if Mr. Watson punished him for not being able to hear him calling, he just wanted a moment of peace surrounded by music.

It was quite a surprise when Wilbur woke up in the same position he laid down in, headphones still blasting the familiar tunes of the saved songs on his MP3 player. Lifting the device, he read the time on the screen. 4:43. He got there at around 12:30. Why had Phil let him just stay there?

Whatever, Wilbur didn’t care. He groaned as he sat up, turning off the MP3 player, stuffing it into his suitcase, and heading downstairs. He knew this part all too well- house rules. Phil would lay on all the rules of the house and Wilbur intended to break every single one.

There weren’t many rules and they all seemed very doable, but Wilbur did indeed break every single one of them. But despite that, he wasn’t punished the way he was used to. They had long conversations about it, Phil trying to coax him into telling him why he did it, but Wilbur didn’t relent. He was determined to be a goddamn nuisance to this man, no matter what.

Two weeks after Wilbur entered Phil’s house, Phil set off to work. Phil told Wilbur that he had been working by the phone for the past two weeks, but he wanted to get back to working in person like he was used to. Phil told him that he owned a plant nursery- that he had for years, but didn’t elaborate more on the nursery’s past. He told Wilbur that he had a few temporary employees filling in for his absence, that introducing Wilbur to the house and making him comfortable was more important.

Then, he asked Wilbur if he wanted to go with him to work the next day. Wilbur wouldn’t be put back in school for another week and if he stayed he would have to have a babysitter, so he said yes. Why not? He could just be a nuisance at Phil’s work. He was the boss, anyway, so it wasn’t like Phil would be fired if he was a little shit.

Wilbur went to bed that night conflicted. Phil had told him that Wilbur was more important than his business than his livelihood. Why was that?

A few weeks later, he learned the truth. Wilbur walked into Phil’s office, intending to be a prick, but stopped at the sight in front of him. Phil was curled on the floor, clutching a picture frame to his chest as large tears streamed down his face. Wilbur had seen that picture frame on Phil’s desk, now that he thought about it. It held a carefully cut-out picture of a woman, her smile wide and genuine, with long dark hair and kind, gentle eyes.

Phil looked up when Wilbur walked in, sitting up and wiping the tears from his face. He loosened his grip on the picture frame but didn’t drop it, still holding it close.

“I’m sorry mate, I didn’t want you to see me like this,” Phil smiled, but his eyes were still sad, red from crying, and glossy like he was holding himself back from bursting into tears once more.

Wilbur stayed silent but didn’t leave. Phil chuckled and motioned Wilbur to come in. Wilbur did and sat next to him. Phil held the photo closer to Wilbur, letting him look. Wilbur had seen it, but he never took a good look at it. The woman looked so happy, so cheerful like her whole life was in front of her.

“That was my wife, Kristen,” Phil started, smiling sadly at the photo. “She always wanted children, someone to care for and raise and maybe take out of a bad situation.” Phil glanced down over to Wilbur, watching as he cursed his lips in thought.

Phil continued in Wilbur’s silence. “She passed away 3 years ago. An unforeseen heart disease. She barely made it to the hospital…” Phil debated whether he should really tell Wilbur all of the details. He didn’t deserve to have that on his shoulders as well. “I miss her. A lot. But she wasn’t the only one who wanted kids.”

Wilbur looked up at Phil, noticing that the other man had turned away from the picture frame and was looking down at him instead. What Wilbur saw changed him. He saw the absolute love in Phil’s eyes and it changed him for the better.

After that incident, Wilbur stopped purposefully trying to be sent back. He was kinder, gentler, so much more open. He was able to recognize that Phil wasn’t just keeping him in his house for the money that came with it, or so he could avenge the wishes of his dead wife, but to have a son. Someone to love, to care about. He started therapy, after Phil’s thousandth request. He unpacked his suitcase.

Soon after, he started working at the nursery.

Wilbur loved the nursery. He didn’t so much like the social aspect of talking to customers, but he loved learning about and studying the plants they brought in to sell. He listened whenever Phil started talking about them, memorizing most everything about them. Eventually, Wilbur came to love the social aspect of the business as well, taking over interactions and leaving Phil to the business part of it all.

Wilbur grew to know the employees that Phil would call in on busy days. His favorite was Niki, who told him that she owned the bakery down the street. She was sweet and always gave him a cookie or a muffin when she was there.

Wilbur also quite liked Eret and Hannah. Hannah was very proficient in taking care of the plants and told Wilbur that she supplied most of the nursery's roses from her own garden. She told him that she owned a few acres of land a mile or two away from where she grew them.

Eret was a very sociable person. He would spend half an hour talking to a customer, with a bright smile on his face. They always wore a pair of dark sunglasses, which Wilbur had asked about a week after meeting them. Eret smiled and took them off, revealing milky white eyes. Eret explained that she was blind, but could see perfectly fine. Wilbur didn’t understand what she meant, but Eret only laughed and slipped her glasses back on.

Phil got him a guitar on his first birthday spent there. Phil told him he saw the way Wilbur slowed down when they walked past the music shop, looking intently at the different guitars in the window.

Wilbur cried a lot that day, clutching the guitar to his chest as Phil hugged him. Wilbur sobbed with such happiness on his 13th birthday that he knew he never wanted to leave. Phil wasn’t perfect, he had his own flaws and quirks, but to Wilbur, he was an angel. To Wilbur, Phil was perfect, no matter his imperfections. Phil was the reason that he was safe, cared for, loved. Phil was the reason he found his music again.

Wilbur spent the next few weeks after work learning guitar by his lonesome, teaching himself to read sheets that he pulled up on the phone Phil had gotten him a week after he moved in. He taught himself different chords, different melodies, learning muscle memory, and ingraining it all into his very being. He was born to play music.

A year later, on his 14th birthday, Phil adopted him. They spent three years together, just them. They were often joined by Niki or Eret or Hannah at the nursery and Charlie came by every weekday to be Wilbur’s personal tutor. Mr. Michael came by every once in a while to see how he was doing. But ultimately, it was just them.

One day, their lives changed once again.

Phil sat Wilbur down that night, right after dinner, to talk to him about something important.

“Phil, you can’t be serious. Another kid? We’ve been perfectly fine for three years- why would you want someone else?”

Phil knew what was happening. Wilbur thought Phil was trying to replace him.

“Wilbur, son, I promise you, nothing will change with us. I adopted you for a reason- I love you. But I want to be able to help someone else. You remember how awful it was in the system, right? I want to be able to bring another child out of that.”

Wilbur thought about it for the next week. He was clingy, he knew, but he couldn’t help thinking that he wanted Phil’s love for himself. He felt awful for thinking about it for so long. The answer should be obvious, he just had to deal with his own internal problems. He talked to Puffy about it at their next session, who told him that he should come to his own decision- that he wasn’t an awful person for wanting to say no sometimes.

But, if he could help another kid out of the awful foster system that he was trapped in for years, he would deal with it. He never wanted anyone to go through the same things that he did. He wanted others to find the forever home that they were promised the moment they went into the system. He wanted others to find a good home. If he could share his home with someone else and help them, he would be able to deal with his own problems just fine.

“Call Mr. Michael. Tell him you’ll take another kid,” Wilbur said one night over dinner. Phil’s smile was bright and happy and Wilbur could tell he made the right choice. They watched a movie that night, Phil reassuring him that he would still love Wilbur just the same, no matter who else lived in their home.

Wilbur went to sleep smiling that day.

Chapter Text

Technoblade was 7 years old when he was placed in the foster system. It wasn’t as if he didn’t expect it, his parents were abusive drunkards, even he could see that. He stayed in the system for 6 years, going through house after house after house, most of them abusive, a few of them decent. But he had too many issues, too many struggles, no one seemed to be able to keep him for more than a few months.

The first house he remembered was abusive. They were the cause of quite a few of his scars, certainly leaving their mark on his mental and physical health. After that house, he was selectively mute. No matter how hard other families tried, they couldn’t coax a word out of him. He talked to Sam, his social worker, but he was the only person he had talked to for 4 years. 4 years of gestures and writing and sign language for those who understood it. He was used to it by this point.

In most of the houses, after it happened, they tried to get him a therapist, someone to force him to speak. He never did. After the first few therapists, he refused to see them, opting to deal with his own problems. They were awful anyway, always trying to force him to speak by taking something from him.

In some of the houses, they would try to force him to cut his hair. He always refused, no matter what. His hair was the one constant in his life, the one thing that he got to keep through it all. He wouldn’t give it up, not for anything. He took care of it, no matter what situation he was in. If he was forced out onto the streets, which had happened more than a couple of times, he would steal a hairbrush or shampoo and wash his hair in some gas station bathroom. Anything to keep up with it.

In almost all of the houses, he had more than one episode when they would force him to eat food he couldn’t stand the texture of, or when they would take away his books on Greek mythology as some sort of fucked up punishment.

No one ever seemed to know why he acted the way he did. They all knew he was autistic- it said so very plainly in his files. He knew- he would look through them when the rest of the family was asleep, maybe the first or second night in a house. They would never understand him and he would never understand them. They were way too confusing most of the time. He always had a hard time understanding sarcasm, something that a lot of families tended to use quite frequently. It was frustrating, trying to piece together what people meant so he wouldn’t be punished again when he got something wrong.

The last house he was in, Technoblade almost died. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration. His left arm was shattered and he was covered head to toe in scrapes and bruises, but he wasn’t near death. Sam knew that he was hurt, obviously, but he never told them exactly what happened.

Techno had run away from the house, crawling out of the window after the father locked the door to his room. He ran to the nearest corner store, desperately trying to get the shop owner to understand what he needed. Eventually, the owner lent Techno his phone, who had disappeared to the bathroom to call Sam, not speaking in front of the owner.

Sam had picked him up half an hour later, Techno sitting and leaning against the outside wall of the store. He had been crying softly, not because of the loss of the house or whatever dumb shit he would do when he was younger, but from the overwhelming pain that stabbed through his arms.

Sam had immediately taken him to the emergency room, calling someone as soon as he stepped out of the car, all the while leading Techno into the building and making sure he was taken care of with his shattered arm.

Technoblade hated hospitals with a burning passion. The lights were awful, combined with the sterile smell and cold temperature, it overwhelmed his senses too easily. He panicked a bit when they stepped into the building, but having Sam by his side made it somewhat easier. Sam talked with the receptionist, who had gotten a blanket for Techno to wrap himself in after Sam explained his difficulty with sensory overload. The blanket helped, a lot, but it didn’t quite quell the fear still laden in the back of his mind.

After he had x-rays done and had a splint neatly put on, Sam had told him that he had called someone for an emergency placement, seeing as all the foster buildings were full at the moment. Techno had frowned but nodded. Sam told him that he had known the man he called for a while, that he had taken in another “problem child” three years ago. Techno winced at that. He hated foster siblings.

The first foster siblings he remembered were about 12 houses back, one older girl. She was also a foster kid, being in the house for a month longer than Techno. She was brash and loud, always competing for the family’s attention. Techno didn’t blame her, he knew how fucked up the system could make you, but he couldn’t stand to be around her. He left that house only a few weeks after he arrived, his distaste for siblings starting its downward spiral.

He had a few more foster siblings after that, in many different houses. Some were biological, but most were more foster kids. Most of them were scared and lost little kids, but there were always the few that were just assholes who used Techno’s own brain against him that really gave more reason for him to start hating kids his age.

Techno had started becoming violent after the third house with foster siblings. He shut himself off from anything, anyone, besides Sam. He lashed out, threw the first punch, threatened his way out of numerous situations. He collected detentions and expulsions like someone would collect candles or action figures.

From the sound of it, the kid that Sam mentioned was older, which made Techno shudder. Sam seemed to notice, as he put a careful hand on Techno’s shoulder and reassured him that Phil would be a perfect fit for him. Techno doubted he’d be there for three months. Surely, after the first few bruises- caused by himself or the family, it didn’t matter- they would send him back. That’s how it always was, why would it change?

Sam was the only person that Techno let touch him. He had known Sam for 6 years, those years letting Sam grow on him. He was the only person that Techno ever fully trusted- enough to speak to, enough to let touch him, and sometimes enough to let him help with Techno’s hair.

Which is what he started to do, as they sat in the white room, with painfully bright lights overhead. Sam smiled sadly at the smaller boy, letting his hands guide through pink strands, untangling knots and shifting it all into a neat braid. Sam used one of the hair bands he kept on his wrist, which he held onto specifically for Techno’s hair.

It was a calming thing, despite his exhaustion, the dull pain in his arm, and the fading adrenaline. He let himself relax in Sam’s arm, not speaking a word when the nurse came back in to tell him that he could be discharged.

So, the two of them left the hospital, Techno breathing a sigh in relief as they stepped out, and sat back in the car. Techno took the passenger seat, letting himself relax in the familiar environment.

When they arrived at Phil’s house an hour later, Techno didn’t have the heart to glare at the two other men. Instead, he practically clung to Sam’s side, not bothering to even humor Wilbur’s request to show him around the house. It took over an hour for Sam to convince Techno to let go of him. Eventually, Techno did, with tears streaming down his face, furiously trying to wipe them away.

Phil led Techno to the room he would be staying in and didn’t try to stop him as Techno stepped into the room and harshly slammed the door behind him. Techno had a panic attack that night, clutching at his chest to remind himself to breathe. When he woke up the next day, he had half the mind to escape already but pushed away that feeling. Nervously and very hesitantly, he made his way out of the bed and to the door, forcing himself to head down the stairs to face the new “family” he would be staying with.

Phil smiled happily at him when he took the last step downstairs, telling him that there was food on the stove. Techno took advantage of that, not knowing when he would be able to eat later when he ran away.

Later that day, he did run away. A few hours later, he was picked up by Sam, who consoled a crying Technoblade and drove him back to the Watson house. From then on, things changed.

Techno went shopping with them, although reluctantly, for things for his room. When Techno’s gaze lasted a bit too long on a polar bear plush, Phil got it for him, smiling with those kind eyes he displayed so lovingly.

Sure, there were awful days. Once, Wilbur had reached out and tried to ask Techno if he could see his hair, but on instinct, Techno had punched him hard, right in the nose. He didn’t have to think to know it was broken. Techno might be built like a twig at that moment, but he was strong from experience. Both Wilbur and Techno had cried plenty that day, with Phil doing his best to console them.

A few weeks later, he got his cast off and Phil tried to convince Techno to see a therapist. Thinking they were trying to get him to speak, he had a major episode, with plenty of tears and attempts at biting.

A few weeks after that, Phil convinced him that he wouldn’t try to get Techno to speak, only wanting to help him deal with the things that Phil wasn’t equipped for. Three days later, when he brought it up again, Techno agreed.

Things with the therapist went great, amazing even. He brought the polar bear plush with him, clutching at it tightly whenever he was overwhelmed, which was often in the earlier days. He had that same therapist for years. A few months into therapy sessions, Techno started talking to her. She never told Phil that he started talking like she promised she wouldn’t, but it was a huge step forward. She was the second person he had dared speak to in years.

Phil was an amazing person and a great father. It took Techno a long time to realize it, but he eventually did. Phil did everything that he could and more- he gave Techno his space, consoled him when he was upset, and comforted him when he had an episode or a panic attack. He let Techno collect books upon books on Greek history and mythology.

One book, The Art of War, although not about Greece, became a book he cherished. He would take it with him when they went somewhere crowded, burying his face in it whenever he felt the need. Phil also got him a really nice pair of noise-canceling headphones, which he used very often, almost every time they went out and even sometimes in the house when he got too overwhelmed.

Phil never pushed it considering Techno’s specific circumstances, but Techno could tell he wanted him to at least join Phil some days at the nursery. Techno did class sessions with Charlie as Wilbur did, but the difference between them was that most of the time when Wilbur was finished with homework, he would call Phil to pick him up and bring him to the Nursery.

In the beginning, Phil would have Wilbur or one of Wilbur’s friends or one of their coworkers stay with Techno under the guise of getting something done, but Techno knew it was to make sure he didn’t run away again. Eventually, he was left home alone most of the time, although sometimes Wilbur would take a day off work and hang out with him- maybe they’d go get ice cream when Wilbur got his license.

However, one day, Techno asked to join him, signing that he wanted to ride with him and Wilbur the next day. He would never forget Phil’s smile from that moment.

The next day, seeing as it was the start of the weekend, Techno woke up early to Wilbur’s knock and got ready, dressing in comfortable but workable clothes, grateful for the comfortable tennis shoes that Phil had gotten him earlier in the year.

It was something that he needed to get used to, but he ended up loving working at the nursery. Sometimes, when he was tending to plants, someone would ask him a question. At first, he would freeze up and all but run off to Phil or Wilbur, but eventually, he was able to portray very clearly to customers that he didn’t speak, which made things a lot easier when the usuals came along.

Techno really liked Eret, Hannah, and Niki. He was particularly fond of Niki, but it seemed like everyone was.

He got used to things, learned to like his new life.

A year and eight months into Techno’s newest home and he spoke to his foster dad. Techno had barely realized he had said anything, used to speaking easily with his therapist, only pausing when he heard the sniff that came from Wilbur, who sat beside him. Looking up from his phone, he noticed that both Phil and Wilbur were crying. A lot. They told him they didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but Techno spoke and told them it was okay, which only made them sob louder.

Exactly four months and six days later, Phil asked Techno if he wanted to be adopted, papers in hand. Techno was hesitant, even distant, for the next few days, but two weeks later, he asked Phil for the adoption papers. Phil handed them over, a curious look on his face before Techno picked up a pen and signed his name where is asked. Phil cried again that day, clutching him tight and telling Techno that he loved him.

It was in that moment that, for the first time ever, he truly felt loved.

Chapter Text

Wilbur is fostered in the first chapter, 6 years after his father abandoned him. Wilbur was angry at the world, purposefully trying to get kicked out of Phil’s house. However, after witnessing Phil in a moment of vulnerability when reminiscing about Kristin, Wilbur starts to change for the better. He started therapy soon after. After that, he started working at the nursery with Phil. He took a liking to Niki, who owned the bakery down the street.

On his first birthday there, Phil got Wilbur a guitar. A year later, on his 14th birthday, Phil adopted him. Things were great- Wilbur had a father that loved him, he had a job he loved. Mr. Charlie would come to be his teacher on weekdays and Mr. Michael came every now and then to check on him. Overall, it was perfect. One day, Phil asks Wilbur if he’s okay with Phil fostering again. Wilbur feels betrayed for a while, but after some reassurance and convincing, Wilbur says yes.

Tecnoblade was in the system for 6 years, starting at 7 years old. His parents were drunkards and cowards- even he knew that at 7. The first house he was placed in was abusive, the cause of many of his scars. Most of the houses he was in were abusive or negligent, leading to him becoming selectively mute. Most fosters after that tried to force him to speak, but he would only ever speak to Sam, his social worker.

In his last house, his arm was shattered and he was covered in bruises. He ran away and called Sam, who rushed him to the emergency room and told him he would need an emergency placement. Techno is placed in the Watson household and promptly runs away the next day. Things started the change after that, Techno slowly but surely opening up to them. One time, Techno broke Wilbur’s nose on instinct after Wilbur had asked about his hair.

Techno started working at the nursery with Phil and Wilbur, enjoying caring for the plants and watching them grow.

Techno started going to therapy after coaxing from Phil, and things were looking much better. Techno started talking to Puffy, who swore to Techno that she wouldn’t tell Phil. One year and eight months after being fostered by Phil, Techno spoke to Phil and Wilbur. Four months and six days later, Phil asked him about adoption. Two weeks after that, Techno agreed.

Other Information:

It may seem unnecessary, but Wilbur's social worker is MichaelMcChill, just known as Mr. Michael, while Techno's is AweSamDude, just known as Mr. Sam. I promise you these characters will be of importance later, which is why they aren't just random characters. The same goes With Puffy, Eret, Niki, and Hannah. They're at least minorly important characters that I didn't want to bother making personalities for, so I just picked SMP characters.

Also, while both Tubbo and Ranboo will be in this fic, they will only really be supporting characters. My main focus is SBI and their journey as a foster family. Both Tubbo and Ranboo help, but they are not and probably never will be the main focus of my stories. I love them very much, but I want to explore the SBI dynamic in this AU before I go deep into benchtrio or beeduo at all.

I will be posting the next chapter as soon as I can, be on the lookout :D

Chapter Text

Tommy Danger Safety Kraken Innes was not having a good day. Which wasn’t a surprise, he didn’t exactly have a good fucking life, either. But out of all the shitty days and even shittier foster parents, he’d say that this one took the cake. He thought most people would consider the day they almost died from blunt force trauma a pretty fucking awful day.

He was in the hospital for 3 days. 3 days of pain and panic and sobbing more than he ever had in his life. Tommy despised hospitals. He hated the painfully bright LED lights and the sterile smell that made his head hurt. Combining them into one place was Tommy’s worst fucking nightmare and he was stuck there for 3 whole, brutal days.

Tommy’s last day in the hospital, Mr. Sam came by, like he had every day before. Sam almost cried like he had every day before as well. Tommy knew Sam blamed himself for all of the awful houses Tommy was sorted into, but Tommy knew the ways that foster parents manipulated the both of them into thinking they were a good fit, only for Tommy to end up hurt time and time again.

He never blamed Sam, no matter how much trauma he had to go through. Sam helped him through 13 years of foster care, keeping him alive despite the odds. Sam treated him like an actual human being. He got Tommy his first binder and his first haircut after Tommy came out. He helped pick Tommy’s name, along with helping legally change it when he was able to.

Sam told him he had called an old friend of his for an emergency placement. Tommy almost started sobbing again right then and there, only the presence of Sam’s gentle words able to calm him. Within the hour, Tommy was discharged from the hospital and Sam was driving him across the county to his next placement.

Tommy sincerely doubted that House 17 would be any better than the last 16, but it’s not like he had much choice in the matter.

“If this isn’t your house, you’ll most likely be stationed in the group house until you age out. That, or you’ll have to be transferred to the next county, where I can’t be your social worker anymore.”

Tommy was taken aback by the statement, jerking up in the passenger seat and staring at Sam wide-eyed.

Sam sighed, taking the next exit and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“I really don’t want that to happen, Tommy… I know none of this is your fault, but if they’re a decent family can you promise me you’ll stay until you’re 18? I’d never ask you to stay if they were abusive, but if you can stand living with them, please promise me?”

Tommy stayed tense, trying to search for the right words. He didn’t want to be taken away from Sam, the only person who had cared about him for those long 13 years.

“I promise,” Tommy finally said, smiling when Sam visibly relaxed.

“Thank you, Tommy.”

“Any time, big man.”

Sam chuckled, steering the car to the left and pulling down the street.

“I think I told you in the hospital, but I’ve known Phil since highschool,” Sam started once more.

“Yeah, you told me he set a building on fire because one of the computers he was programming blew up.”

Sam laughed at the memory, nodding. “Yup! The ancient tech couldn’t keep up with whatever the hell Phil was trying to do. He told me after he got out of suspension that he meant to do it. I didn’t tell anyone, of course.” Sam thought for a second. “Except you, I suppose.”

Tommy smiled and nodded, facing out the windshield into the suburban neighborhood they were driving through. These Watsons must have some cash if they lived here.

“Anyway,” Sam sighed. Tommy thought he looked tired. He was probably right. “Again, I think I told you, but he’s fostered before. I’m obviously not going to tell you their stories, but both Wilbur and Technoblade went through a lot before being fostered by Phil.”

Sam took another left and Tommy couldn’t help but tense at the “Private Property” sign planted on a fence gate right after they turned.

“Wilbur was the first,” Sam continued. “You know Michael? He’s Wilbur’s social worker. I recommended Phil to him after Phil called me about signing up to foster. Wilbur’s been there ever since. Techno was one of my kids. You might have met, actually- he was fostered four years ago, about. Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t talk to you, he’s selectively mute around people he doesn’t know.”

Tommy nodded, pursing his lips as they turned into a long driveway, which Tommy assumed to be Phil’s.

“Why is he-?” Tommy started before being interrupted by Sam.

“I have something for you-” Sam laughed as he spoke right after Tommy, continuing after Tommy seemed to backtrack his thoughts.

“I’m not legally supposed to have this, but I swiped it from the last house before I was kicked out,” Sam said, pulling Tommy’s phone from the middle compartment.

Tommy gaped, quickly snatching the device from Sam and internally screaming his fucking head off.

“Thank you, Sam!” Tommy yelled, a bright smile on his face.

“Of course, Tommy,” Sam returned, moving to ruffle Tommy’s hair before opening his door and stepping out.

Tommy stashed his phone away in his back pocket, opening his own door and rounding the car to Sam’s side. They both made their way to the front door, which was abruptly pulled open before Sam could knock. Sam smiled at the boy in the doorway, who had a giant grin on his face.

“Sam! It’s great to see you! Techno was missing you- he would never tell me but I could tell.”

Tommy thought this must be Wilbur. He had mentioned Techno, who Tommy knew to be the younger brother, and Tommy knew it couldn’t be Phil- no parent would ever act so hyperactive. At least he thought.

“It’s good to see you as well, Wil. I’m glad to hear Techno is doing well. Is Phil here? I saw his car in the driveway.”

Tommy could see the moment Wilbur noticed him. His eyes widened and his smile grew- if that was even possible.

“Oh my god! I forgot all about the new foster- what am I doing? Come on in, I’ll go get Phil.”

Tommy scrunched his eyebrows together. He already wasn’t enjoying the loud personality that was Wilbur. Hopefully, the rest of the family wasn’t as loud, or he’d be overstimulated all the time, which he did not particularly enjoy.

He followed behind Sam as he entered the house, shutting the door behind them both. Tommy’s eyes wandered what he could see of the house, taking in all of the exits just in case someone decided to get physical. Sam must have been able to tell Tommy’s nerves were stressing him out, because he set a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, squeezing for a moment before releasing his grip. It wasn’t much, but it calmed Tommy- if only a bit.

Less than a minute later, Wilbur made his way out of a nearby hallway with another man in tow, who Tommy deduced to be Phil. The first thing he noticed about Phil was his stupid fucking bucket hat.

“Who the fuck wears bucket hats?” Tommy blurted out before he could think to stop himself. Immediately after, he slapped a hand over his mouth, convinced that Phil would kick him out of the house at that moment and he would have to give up Sam.

Before Tommy could open his mouth to apologize, Phil and Wilbur burst out laughing, Wilbur clutching his stomach in some vain attempt to not double over and fall.

In Tommy’s confusion, he could hear Sam stifle a chuckle, trying not to freak Tommy out more than he knew he was. After a few seconds, Phil and Wilbur seemed to calm down, smiles replacing loud laughter.

“I quite like the hat, myself,” Phil replied, finally.

Wilbur rolled his eyes and groaned, “Phil, I got that for you as a joke, you weren’t supposed to actually wear it!”

Phil smiled, “But you got it for me, how was I supposed to just throw it aside when my second-favorite son got me a gift?”

Wilbur gasped dramatically at that, hands flinging above his head in exasperation. “Second-favorite? I’m leaving. Techno is my favorite now.”

Tommy watched in bewilderment as they bickered back and forth like school children. It was entertaining, as they seemed to forget about the two guests in their home. Tommy thought it was oddly domestic, how they were able to poke fun at each other without actually hurting each other's feelings. If Tommy didn’t know Wilbur was a foster-turned-adoption, he would have thought Wilbur was Phil’s bio kid with how much they seemed to get along.

Finally, Phil brought his attention back to Sam and Tommy, seemingly remembering they were there.

“Ah, yes! It’s been a while, Sam. How are you?” Phil asked, reaching forward and encompassing Sam into a hug. Tommy backed up a bit, tensing as Phil drew closer. He had to let go of Sam’s sleeve, not wanting to be near Phil quite yet. He didn’t want to be close to anyone right now. Sam was the exception. He was always the exception.

“I've been alright if a bit stressed. How about you, then?” Sam responded, smiling brightly as he embraced his old friend.

“Everything’s been going great, actually. Some new jobs at the lot have really been going-”

Tommy zoned out of the conversation, picking at a loose thread on his hoodie, trying to pull it out. He was rudely interrupted by the sound of another person coming down the stairs next to the hallway, making Tommy jump.

The guy was tall and looked fucking jacked. Tommy made a mental note to never get on this guy’s bad side. The second thing Tommy noticed, after how jacked he looked, was the long pink hair. It was obviously dyed, as the roots were a bright blonde, almost white. He had headphones over both ears, which Tommy assumed were connected to the phone he held in one hand.

This one must be Technoblade, Tommy thought. For a few seconds, he looked up from his phone, noticing the two new people in his house. He awkwardly waved to Tommy, who grinned sheepishly and waved back.

Techno’s eyes turned to Sam, brightening up a bit at the sight of him. Sam seemed to notice Techno’s presence as well, as he finished his conversation with Phil and turned to Tommy once more.

“I’m going to go check in on Techno, I’m sure Wilbur would be happy to give you a tour until I’m done, yeah?” Sam asked, turning to face Wilbur for a moment, who happily nodded.

“Fine by me, big man,” Tommy shrugged, suddenly way too aware of how high his voice sounded. He hated it with a burning passion. If his last house hadn’t torn apart his binder right in front of him, he would be feeling a lot better about himself right now.

But alas, he followed Wilbur through the way too big fucking house, letting him lead the way through hallways as he pointed to rooms and even took him in a few. After a bit, they finally came across Tommy’s room, which Tommy noticed hadn’t been decorated very much.

“We didn’t know what you would want and we were kind of in a hurry, but Phil washed the sheets and the comforter, and there are some cool colored lights that you can use-”

“Why do you call him Phil?” Tommy asked suddenly, biting his lip and mentally scolding himself for not being able to hold his fucking tongue.

Wilbur chuckled, not bothered by Tommy’s sudden question. “We call him Dad sometimes, mostly just to get more snacks at the store. He’s just always been Phil to me and Tech. He’s our Dad, but he’s also just…” Wilbur shrugged, leaning against Tommy’s door frame. “Phil.”

Tommy nodded, turning away from Wilbur in embarrassment. “Sorry for interrupting you,” he said softly, looking around the room once more.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I get it- Tech and I are both ADHD, we definitely understand. Try not to be afraid to ask us stuff, we’re always open to answer.” Wilbur smiled, hands being shoved into his hoodie pockets.

Tommy thought for a moment. “Do you take any meds or anything? For your ADHD?”

Wilbur shook his head, still grinning. “No, all the ADHD meds I’ve taken made me feel… I don’t know, not human I guess? I told Phil I’d rather deal with the disorder than the side effects of the meds.

“I take meds for other stuff though. I have General Anxiety and Major Depressive Disorder. Oh, also the trauma. So I go to therapy and shit and I take my meds and stuff when Techno reminds me.”

Wilbur paused, seemingly remembering that most conversations were two-sided.

“Sorry, I’m ranting. What about you? If you’re prescribed anything Phil would be happy to pick it up for you when he goes to get our stuff.”

Tommy froze for a moment. What did he say? Wilbur was being pretty honest with him, so he should be honest back, yeah?

“I uhm… I got diagnosed with ADHD a few years ago. I took something, I can’t remember the name, but it helped a lot…” Tommy paused, crossing his arms. “They had me take something else, too, but I can’t remember what it was for. The house after uhm… the parents threw away everything and wouldn’t take me back to the pharmacy. I stopped trying after that.”

When Tommy looked up, he saw Wilbur giving the saddest and yet most sympathetic look he’d ever seen.

“Oh, Tommy. Don’t worry, Phil would be happy to take you to the doctor so they can give you whatever you need. Do you want me to ask him for you? I know that new foster parents are terrifying.”

Tommy, again, didn’t know what to say. So he didn’t say anything, settling for nodding and grinning, making Wilbur smile back.

----

That night, after Sam had talked with both Phil and Tommy, making sure he was okay with the house, Tommy decided he really did not want to go down for dinner. He wasn’t sure how Phil would react to such a thing, so this was the perfect opportunity to test it.

When Wilbur had come up an hour after Sam left, asking Tommy if he wanted to eat with them, he politely refused, telling Wilbur he would eat something in the morning. 30 minutes later, after he was confident Phil wouldn’t come up to lecture him about family dinner, Tommy breathed a sigh of relief.

Tommy tried to sleep, but it was impossible. He kept having visions whenever he closed his eyes for too long, making him open his eyes and heave a panicked breath, tears threatening to slide down his cheeks. So instead, Tommy made his way out of his room, sneaking as best he could to where Wilbur had shown where the bathroom was.

Once he was safe in the bathroom with the door closed and locked, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. The first thing he noticed was the bright pink stains on the white tile and bathtub, which he assumed was from Techno’s hair dye.

Finally, he looked at himself in the mirror, wincing at his own image. He looked like shit, with deep bags under his eyes, way too obvious bruises on the side of his neck, and the clothes on his back that weren’t destroyed by his previous house. Tommy realized, suddenly, that the only thing he had left was his phone. He had nothing.

That’s when the tears finally fell. He tried to be quiet, he swears he did, but it was hopeless. He sobbed. Although he tried so fucking hard to quiet himself, he knew he was being too loud when he could hear a light pair of footsteps cross over to the bathroom door. After a few moments of silence from outside the door and Tommy trying to stifle his cries with his hands, a light knock was pressed to the door.

Slowly, fearing the consequences if he didn’t open it, Tommy unlocked the door and stepped back, letting the other person open the door.

Open the door they did. Much too slowly, Tommy came face-to-face with Technoblade, whose usual monotonous expression was twisted slightly into one of worry.

Tommy wiped furiously at his eyes, trying to calm himself down before he was yelled at. He knew it must be late- before he left his room he had read the time on his phone screen, 1:50 AM. Techno must not sleep at a regular time, he decided.

A moment too late, Tommy noticed that Techno was signing something with his hands. Tommy choked back another sob, trying to get his vocal cords to work, goddamnit.

“I only know the letters, big man,” Tommy said, putting on the fakest smile he could ever muster, still wiping at his cheeks.

Carefully, Techno signed out the letters, letting Tommy piece together what he was asking- “Are you hurt?”

Tommy shook his head quickly, before pausing and nodding. He gestured vaguely to the bruises on the side of his neck.

“These are a few of them…” Tommy replied, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes to try and keep from crying more.

Techno hummed for a moment before stepping into the bathroom, looking under the sink, and pulling out a first aid kit. He pointed to the toilet seat, signing “Sit,” which Tommy obeyed reluctantly.

Tommy tensed up instinctively when Techno drew near to his neck, so Techno drew back and gestured to Tommy’s shirt.

Fuck it, Tommy thought. If they haven’t figured it out already, they will. Tommy was internally grateful that he had bothered to put on a sports bra before being kicked out of the last house as he lifted his shirt over his shoulders.

Surprisingly, Techno didn’t seem at all phased. Tommy guessed he already knew or that Sam had told him, which- no, Sam would never do that to him.

Over the next hour, Techno re-bandaged Tommy’s bruises, throwing away the bandages that had been put on him in the hospital. Tommy shivered at the memory of the hospital, causing Techno to look at him weirdly for a moment before continuing.

Tommy went to sleep at 3 AM that night, thankful to whatever shitty God out there that the next day- or technically that day- was Saturday. There was no way in hell he was waking up before noon.

Chapter Text

He was right, he didn’t end up getting out of bed until noon. When he did get up, it was from a high-pitched shout and a laugh from what sounded like downstairs. It took Tommy a moment to gather himself and remember what happened yesterday.

His whole body ached painfully. He took a few minutes to rub at the sorest of his bruises, remembering the bandages Techno wrapped around him as his fingers trailed over dark purple spots.

Tommy realized at that moment that Techno knew- he knew Tommy was trans and he was going to tell everyone else if they didn’t already know. Because, let’s face it, with his high voice and feminine features, it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t a cis guy. Yet… they called him Tommy. They called him Tommy- they respected him then? This was too confusing for it being so early in the morning… afternoon… whatever.

Sighing, he pulled himself out of bed, running a hand down his shirt to try and dispel any wrinkles he gained on them throughout the night. It didn’t work.

He made his way out of his room, making sure to pocket his phone just in case anyone started snooping in his room while he wasn’t there. He knew it wasn’t realistic that they would just leave him to his own devices in a secluded room- he was a problem kid, foster parents didn’t just give problem kids privacy.

As quickly as he could, he brushed his hand through his hair before taking the first few steps down the stairs. He could hear wild laughter and a shout from the bottom. That must have been Wilbur, there couldn’t have been anyone else that had such a high-pitched scream. Despite himself, it made Tommy feel a little better about his own voice.

When he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, he could see three sets of eyes on him. Surprisingly, they were all warm and welcoming.

“Tommy!” Phil smiled, calling from the open kitchen. “You’re just in time, I’m almost finished with lunch.”

Tommy nodded, turning his attention to Techno and Wilbur. Techno had Wilbur’s chest under his knee, watching as Wilbur laughed and struggled to get out of his hold.

“Techno, you fucker, let me out!” Wilbur said, laughing inlaid behind each word.

“Techno,” Phil said, a slight warning in his tone. “Let your brother go, it’s his turn to come help me set the table.”

With a dramatic eye roll, Techno lifted himself from Wilbur’s chest, reaching out a hand to help him up. Wilbur gladly took it before turning to Tommy, who had been watching the ordeal from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m glad you could make it down for lunch, Tommy. Phil’s cooking is the best- I think he’s making dino nuggies with whatever else he’s making!”

Tommy tilted his head. Wilbur was excited over… dinosaur chicken nuggets? He thought this guy was like 19. He voiced as much, choosing his words a bit more carefully but not holding back.

“Aren’t you like, almost 20?”

Wilbur laughed and nodded. “Yup, I’ll be 20 in September. But you can always be excited over dino nuggies, no matter how old you are!”

From the kitchen, Phil agreed. “Vouch! Dino nuggies are a staple of this family’s cuisine. We all get excited over them.”

Tommy nodded, a small grin making its way onto his face.

“Wil, can you bring the plates out to the table?” Phil called again from the kitchen. Wilbur made his way to his father, bringing out the plates and silverware to the dining table.

“Do you, uhm… have any sort of seating system?” Tommy asked, forcing himself to take his time when asking, trying to walk on eggshells around these people.

“Not particularly,” Wilbur said when he came back from the kitchen once more with drinks. “Techno sits there,” he continued, pointing to one of the chairs. “But other than that, we switch it around some days. Take whatever chair you want!”

Tommy nodded, pulling out a chair across from Techno’s. He felt comfortable enough with both Techno and Wilbur, at least enough to know they weren’t going to hurt him when they were in a good mood.

Tommy turned his head to Technoblade, who was in one of the chairs in the living room, headphones over his ears. Those things must be magical with the way he pulled them out of thin air and started using them.

“Dad, Techno had his headphones on, can you tell him to come eat?” Wilbur asked, placing a plate of dinosaur nuggets in the center of the table.

Phil nodded, making his way to the living room where he bent down in front of Techno, who took his headphones off to listen. A moment later, he was pulling them back up again and lifting himself from his seat.

Wilbur set the last dish down next to the dinosaur nuggets as both Techno and Phil sat at the table around Tommy, Techno taking the spot that Wilbur had pointed to.

Tommy didn’t dare say anything as they all put food on their plates, not taking more than he saw anyone else take, just to be safe. He felt like they wouldn’t physically hurt him, but taking more than he was supposed to was a one-way ticket to become an unpaid maid.

“Ms. Carrie called-” Phil started, before being immediately interrupted by Wilbur.

“Oh my god, again? I swear to god if you have me bring her more Petunias I’m quitting.”

Phil laughed, shaking his head. “No, no, she just called to compliment you, I promise. I think she’s done with the Petunias this year.”

Wilbur huffed, rolling his eyes. “Good- it’s the end of fall anyway, people don’t even put up Petunias in the fall!”

Phil and Wilbur’s eyes turned to Techno as he gently set down his fork, signing something that Tommy couldn’t read.

“Exactly!” Wilbur said, nodding when Techno was finished. “But she didn’t even want to listen to me when I told her that’s why all of her Petunias were dying! She was all ‘blah blah, Chrysanthemums aren’t as pretty blah blah’- Mums are beautiful goddammit!”

Tommy only flinched back slightly at Wilbur’s tone, both Phil and Techno’s amused looks reminding him that Wilbur wasn’t actually angry. Tommy smiled with them.

“What’s with the lady and Petunias?” Tommy asked, just loud enough for Wilbur to hear him. Wilbur grinned slightly at Tommy’s openness, expression going back to one of frustration right after.

“Oh god, let me tell you-”

----

Techno thought lunch was overwhelming. Sure, he didn’t usually mind Wilbur’s loud antics and Phil’s gentle encouragement of those antics, but having another person there disrupting their routine wasn’t Techno’s favorite.

Phil seemed to understand Techno’s distress, as he pulled Techno away right after they were done eating. Phil told him he could finish Techno’s chores for the day, that he could spend the rest of the afternoon in the garden if he wanted to.

“Thanks, Phil,” Techno smiled, leaning into Phil’s touch as they embraced.

So Techno did just that- stayed in the back garden the rest of the afternoon, and well into the evening. It was relaxing, methodic, as he tended to his flowers and bushes. Wilbur was right, all of his spring annuals had already died off the week before after the first frost of the season.

It took nearly the rest of the day, but by the time Techno finished tending to his perennials and tending to his fall annuals, as well as filling out his mulch, he had a garden he was proud of.

Sweet Alyssum was planted near the edgestone, which would waterfall over it once it grew out. Aster and Dianthus were spread evenly around, surrounding spots of Chrysanthemums that Wilbur had picked out. Phil, the genius, had suggested he plant Vinca Minor during the summer when he was putting most of this in the ground. He was right, of course- it was the perfect ground cover to go over the mulch and would grow beautifully with the Alyssum.

He sat at the steps of the back porch, looking over his garden bed with a bright smile on his face. He heard the back door but didn’t think much of it, assuming it was Phil coming out to try and lend him a hand with the garden.

“Phil, you didn’t need to come out, I’ve got it done-”

When Techno opened his eyes and looked behind him, he closed his mouth so rapidly he bit the tip of his tongue.

“I, uhm… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come out, you were just there for so long and I wanted to ask if I could see the garden…” Tommy muttered out, hand gripping at the end of his shirt.

Techno reached a gentle hand out, stopping Tommy from continuing. Slowly, he stood, a soft smile on his face. He’d spent most of the day in the garden, clearing his mind. He could share it with Tommy, even if it was a bit unusual for someone other than Phil or Wilbur being out here.

He pulled out his phone, quickly bringing out his notes app and typing ‘Just don’t touch anything' before letting Tommy see. Tommy smiled and nodded, following Techno’s lead as he showed him around.

Techno wasn’t going to lie- Tommy was disrupting and loud and even a bit annoying, but something in Techno couldn’t bring himself to care so much when he smiled so brightly at every different flower he showed him. He did care a bit- had to ask Tommy to quiet down a bit halfway through and sent him back in after he brushed a hand against one of Techno’s bushes, but Tommy didn’t seem too upset.

Techno stayed in the backyard until the sun was about to set. He set to thinking, mostly about Tommy, their interaction last night. Techno knew Tommy had just gotten out of the hospital- Phil had told them to not be rough with him for a while because of it- but he didn’t expect such dark bruises on his body.

He thought a bit about Tommy being trans. He wanted Tommy to be comfortable in this house, to be treated with respect, unlike his former houses. He wanted Tommy to know that he was accepted. It wasn’t fair to him that he didn’t get a fraction of the care he needed.

Techno should probably get Tommy a binder.

----

Wilbur thought he had never felt worse for a kid in his life. No, that’s not true, he certainly felt worse for Techno when he was brought home by Sam that first day he ran away. Despite knowing him for less than 24 hours, Phil had been sobbing in Sam’s arms after Techno fled to his room. Phil thought Techno had been kidnapped, or worse.

Whatever, that was years ago. Fixing his statement- Wilbur thought he had never felt worse for a kid in the last 3 years.

Tommy looked so terrified at lunch. He noticed the way he did everything he could to keep quiet, walking around eggshells so as to not set them off. Wilbur thought back to when he was taken in by Phil, how it had taken months for Wilbur to finally believe that Phil wasn’t going to hurt him if he dropped something or made a shit grade on a test. With how much longer Tommy has been in the system, Wilbur had no idea how long it would take for him.

Wilbur gave Tommy time, watched him walk out to spend time with Techno in the garden. Wilbur didn’t exactly know why Tommy seemed to trust Techno as much, but he wasn’t complaining. His biggest worry when Tommy was going to be brought home was how intimidating Techno would be.

When Techno inevitably kicked him out, Wilbur thought it might be too late to approach him. He’d wait until morning, before breakfast.

However, that seemed to be easier said than done. After dinner that night, Tommy went straight to bed and didn’t stir until midday once more the next day. Wilbur wanted to know why Tommy slept so much. Maybe he stayed up really late, but that wasn’t probable- there was no sound coming from his room all night. The most likely and saddest truth was that he was exhausted from his previous house and the hospital and wanted to make up time.

Whatever the case, Wilbur still felt awful for the boy. When he stepped up to Tommy’s room around noon that next day, he knocked gently trying to get his attention. When he was met with silence, he opened the door just a crack to see Tommy still sleeping, sheets and comforter tangled around the bed. Wilbur smiled at the sight, closing the door back silently.

When Tommy did inevitably wake up, Wilbur was luckily the first to notice. He heard the sound of Tommy undoubtedly falling off of the bed because of the sheets tied around his legs and a loud curse.

Immediately, he made his way to Tommy’s door, knocking.

“Come in,” Tommy said groggily.

The next moment, Wilbur opened the door to see Tommy standing up from the mess of sheets and blankets on the floor, hurriedly trying to make the bed.

“Your room doesn’t need to be perfect, Tommy. We won’t get mad at you for us,” Wilbur stated as gently as he could. He could see Tommy pause, taking in the new information.

Tommy looked up at him, hesitance in his expression.

“You’re sure? Phil’s never… never hit you for not making your bed?” Tommy asked genuinely, still working on making the bed.

“Gods no, Phil has never laid a hand on me in that sort of way. Neither has Techno and neither will I.” Wilbur said, an unspoken promise in his words.

Slowly, Tommy nodded, pulling the comforter up on the now fully made bed.

“It’s just a habit then, I guess…” Tommy mumbled. “Did you need me for anything?”

“I heard you fall off your bed.” Wilbur smiled. “But I just wanted to talk to you about a couple of things you might want to know. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.” Wilbur said quickly afterward when seeing Tommy’s panicked expression.

Wilbur stepped into the room, sitting on Tommy’s bed and motioning for Tommy to join him.

He continued. “Phil’s probably going to talk to you today. He likes for each of us to know the rules of the house. They’re just simple things like respecting people’s boundaries and such. He has these cool little sheets where you can write down things about yourself!” Wilbur grinned.

“He prints out copies of mine, Techno’s, and his own sheets to give to you and prints out copies of your own for us to have. So we know what to avoid around you and how to help you. He’s always fine with you changing anything on the sheets, no matter how small.” Wilbur thought for a moment before continuing. “I can’t count how many times Techno and I have changed ours when we found new triggers or things we wanted to avoid. Phil was always happy to let us.”

Tommy nodded, seeming a bit slow to process everything.

“So… you guys just… do that? You avoid what makes each other upset? You don’t like, use it against each other?” Tommy questioned.

“No, no, Tommy we would never. We always respect each other and what others are uncomfortable with.”

Tommy nodded again, fidgeting with his hands. When Wilbur noticed, he pulled out an infinity cube from his pocket, holding it out for Tommy to take. Tommy stared at the toy for a moment before realizing Wilbur wanted him to take it.

“Keep it.” Wilbur shrugged, a small smile on his face. “I have like 5 others in my nightstand, I always lose them and find them right when I get another.”

Tommy chuckled, hands working around the cube to twist it in different directions.

Before Wilbur could excuse himself, he heard the sound of Phil’s footsteps walking up the stairs. Tommy noticed it as well, from the way his head snapped to the doorway in an instant and his hands stopped playing with the cube.

A few seconds later, Phil was rounding the corner to Tommy’s doorway, smiling brightly when he saw the two sitting on Tommy’s bed.

“I was going to invite you two down for lunch. What have you been up to?” Phil asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Before Tommy could answer, Wilbur cut in. “Crime.” He said simply, a smug smile on his face.

Phil laughed, head tilted back slightly in amusement. Tommy whipped his head to Wilbur, sarong at him like he was a maniac.

“Well, crime boys, come on down and eat something, yeah?”

Wilbur nodded and stood as Phil left to go back downstairs. Wilbur turned back to Tommy, holding out a hand to help him. Tommy took it, rising from the bed with the cube still in his other hand as he fidgeted with it. He let Wilbur lead them downstairs where Phil had three plates of spaghetti ready for them.

“Where’s Techno?” Tommy questions, just barely avoiding slapping a hand over his mouth to keep from speaking further.

“He’s eating in his room,” Phil explained simply.

“You’re allowed to do that?” Tommy questions once more, figuring he ought to keep asking questions if Phil wasn’t going to stop him.

Phil nodded. “You all are allowed to eat wherever. I wanted us all to talk, but Tech was too overstimulated down here, so he went to eat in his room.”

Tommy hummed, eyes fixing down at the cube below the table. He seemed like he was thinking way too hard about something.

“But anyway,” Phil continued, both him and Wilbur starting on their meals. “I wanted to talk about house rules and such. I figured I didn’t want to scare you too much on your first day, but I can’t avoid it forever.” He chuckled.

Tommy nodded, setting the cube down next to his plate and starting to eat as well. He was expecting this, hell, even Wilbur had warned him. But these conversations were always something he dreaded.

“We have chore rotations every day- I can explain more about that later, but it doesn’t matter much right now. We’ll integrate you into it another time, so don’t worry about you ‘not doing enough or anything. Don’t worry about your room being too clean, either. Techno is the only one who bothers to clean his. It’s a miracle whenever I or Wilbur even make our beds.”

Wilbur laughed at that, making Tommy’s tenseness ease a bit. Phil laughed as well, pausing for a moment to pull something out of what Tommy assumed was a bag next to Phil’s chair.

“There’s also these,” Phil started again. “So we can all know your triggers and such. Mine, Techno’s, and Wilbur’s are there as well. We would all appreciate it if you looked all of them over and respected them. When you’re done with yours, I’ll print more out and give one to each of us. Is that okay?”

Tommy took the four papers that Phil handed to him, eyeing each one for a few seconds before nodding at Phil’s question.

“Yeah, I… Yeah, I can do that.” Tommy said simply, setting them down next to his cube and continuing to eat.

----

Phil had done this twice before. He knows what to do, knows the early routine, what to expect from new fosters. But never in his years of fostering has he ever seen a child that seemed this broken.

Tommy was an enigma, a burning question that nobody had the answer to and that Tommy would hide from. He was obedient but questioned almost every seemingly normal rule or whatever he told him. In all honesty, Phil didn’t know how to navigate this one.

That’s why once Tommy had taken the papers from him, he asked the question that he did.

“Tommy, would you like to go to therapy?” He had asked, a gentle smile still on his face. Wilbur shot up to look at him like he was fucking crazy, which he probably was. Both Wilbur and Techno had problems with therapists at the beginning and he didn’t want to pressure Tommy, but he wanted his opinion first.

Tommy froze for a moment, eyes refusing to meet him before taking another bite. He was stalling for time, trying to think of something to say.

“You don’t have to, of course. Unless your mental health starts to hurt you, I won’t force you into any kind of therapy. I’ve fostered before and I know how, but I think having someone who has studied things like this would be a help for both of us.

“If you’d like, I can see that you have someone better qualified than a therapist, even a psychiatrist if that’s what you’d prefer. I know typical therapists aren’t as well equipped to deal with larger cases.”

Tommy still didn’t say anything, but he put his fork down and stared at the edge of the table, eyes glossing over.

“Tommy?” Wilbur spoke up, leaning forward a bit to better look at him. He noticed the far-away look in Tommy’s eye, immediately recognizing that he was dissociating. “Ah, shit.”

Phil bit his lip, standing up but not knowing what to do. Wilbur stood as well, noticing Phil’s hesitance.

“Get the spare weighted blanket from the armoire, the heating pad too. We’ll lay him on the couch and see if he comes back.” Wilbur sighed, face twisting in worry as he led Tommy to the couch. When Phil returned with the weighted blanket and heating pad, he wrapped them around Tommy, sitting on the floor in front of him to try and recognize when he would come back.

An hour later, Tommy still wasn’t back. Techno had emerged from his room, still a bit overwhelmed but calm enough to put his dishes away and sit with Wilbur, sitting down and hugging him from behind. Wilbur didn’t mind the contact- loved it even.

It wasn’t until the third hour that Tommy came back, hands emerging from the weighted blanket and letting it fall off of his shoulders.

“Oh… I, uhm… I can’t remember how I got here. What were we talking about?” He asked, pressing a palm to his forehead.

“That’s okay mate,” Phil said from the chair diagonal from him. “You dissociated for a couple of hours, we figured moving over here would be more comfortable than at the table. I asked you about therapy, but I completely understand if that’s not something you want to do. It’s all up to you.”

Tommy pursed his lips and nodded, willing himself to not start dissociating again.

“Maybe in a few weeks? I don’t think I’m ready yet… bad experiences.” Tommy mumbled, pulling the blanket around him once more.

“That’s fine, Tommy,” Wilbur said, grinning. “We want you to be comfortable, no matter what.”

Tommy smiled for the first time that day.

No matter what.

Chapter Text

Tommy had a bit of a difficult time filling out the papers Phil gave him. He filled out the pronouns section with confidence, putting ‘he/him’ without even questioning it. He knew that at least Techno and Phil knew about him being trans, but they didn’t seem to care. It was a bit confusing if Tommy was to be honest. Living in the UK, a lot of older couples and families weren’t too accepting of trans people, so he didn’t live in very many houses where he was just accepted like that.

But that didn’t really matter right now. Right now, he needed to focus on what the hell he was supposed to put for the ‘Triggers’ box. His pencil hovered over the box for a few minutes as he thought about it. After another few seconds, he gave up and sighed, looking back at the other papers he got along with his blank one. Maybe he could look over the others before finishing his own.

He picked up Phil’s first, as it was on top of the small pile. The top of the paper was typical. It had his full name ‘Philza Rosales-Watson’ which Tommy thought was a bit weird. Was Phil married? He thought to ask, but he didn’t want to pry just in case she died or something.

Next, his pronouns, birthday, etc. Just general information that might come in handy if Tommy was even going to stick around. Considering that wasn’t very likely, he decided he didn’t need to memorize Phil’s birthday. He scanned past it and stopped at the ‘Triggers’ box, the one that he had been struggling with. Phil’s handwriting is small and neat if a bit chaotic.

‘Just like him,’ Tommy thinks, before immediately shutting that thought down. He read the words in the box.

‘Triggers:

‘Light Triggers (triggers that won’t cause panic but are preferable to avoid): Hospitals, blood, high-pitched noises, heavily saturated color, yelling

‘Heavy Triggers (triggers that will cause panic/breakdowns): mentions/sight of dead birds, the name Kristin’

Tommy made sure to take note of that in the back of his head. He related to the hospital bit. The few days he spent in the hospital was hell, the smell hurt his nose and the lights made his head hurt.

Turning back to his own paper, he wrote hospitals under the heavy triggers box. They may not make him have a breakdown, but they sure weren’t pleasant. He never wanted to go back to one. After adding hospitals, he raised his hand to the ‘light triggers’ box, writing ‘LED lights.’ He took a minute before adding ‘yelling’ as well. After a moment, he added ‘that weird fucking new car smell.’

Tommy looked back to the paper, reading the rest of it.

‘Other important info:

‘Having any sort of breakdown is very rare for me, but when it happens physical touch is always accepted. Wilbur will most likely know what to do, but in case he is absent just try to keep me company. I can come out of it myself fairly easily, just with time.

‘I can be very possessive over objects, so please do not take things from my room unless requested or you’ve asked. Especially not any jewelry please.’

That was easy enough. Don’t steal Phil’s shit, he could live with that.

Tommy moved to the next paper, Wilbur’s. His handwriting was much more chaotic and hard to read.

‘Light Triggers (triggers that won’t cause panic but are preferable to avoid): mentions of eating disorders, touching my hair or face without permission, fast repetitive noises,

‘Heavy Triggers (Triggers that will cause panic/breakdowns): Touching my guitar without permission, sounds of gunfire, constant yelling (specifically people with deeper voices)

‘Other important info:

‘If I have any sort of panic attack, I’m fine with people touching me. Usually, I’ll calm down after a while, but I’ll be exhausted. If, after a panic attack, I sleep for hours or sleep past an event, that’s the reason.’

Tommy could do that. It was pretty reasonable, even if he didn’t know the causes behind most of them.

Whatever, he moved on to Techno’s, whose handwriting was borderline cursive and even harder to read than Wilbur’s.

‘Light Triggers: Teasing about my beliefs, making fun of my books or habits, teasing about my hair or style choices, asking about my medication, mentions of panic attacks, touching me without permission, large dogs (trained ones are fine), asking about my selective mutism

‘Heavy Triggers: Touching my hair without permission, touching my books or jewelry without permission, moving my things from or in my room, yelling (specifically targeted at me), fireworks, using/drinking alcohol’

Those were pretty reasonable as well. Tommy would have to try harder to remember most of them, especially if he didn’t want to get kicked out in his first few weeks, but he was sure he could manage. Tommy noted that the “other important info” section was left blank. He might ask Techno about that later.

Tommy looked back over his own paper, scratching down a couple of things as he tried to recall anything important.

Before he could properly finish going through the paper, he could hear faint footsteps from outside his room. ‘Phil,’ his mind supplied, having already memorized each of their footsteps.

Phil knocked on his door, to which he replied “Come in.”

Tommy’s door cracked open, revealing a smiling Phil, who grinned wider at the sight of Tommy surrounded by the papers he’d given him.

“We’re going to watch a movie, maybe a play Techno pirated if you’d like to join us?” Phil asked softly, a smile never leaving his face.

Tommy hesitantly nodded, stacking the papers on his nightstand and following Phil out of the room and down to the living room. Wilbur and Techno were already there, Wilbur placing down two large bowls of popcorn and scoffing at something Techno signed.

“You bitch!” Wilbur gasped dramatically. “How dare you insult Hamilton- it’s not like you’re any better, Mr. I-Love-Dear-Evan-Hansen.”

Techno signed something once more, rolling his eyes.

“Yes I KNOW Beetlejuice is your favorite Broadway play, but Beetlejuice is actually good,” Wilbur replied.

Phil and Tommy made their way to the couch, both of them sitting where the other two weren’t. Techno had made himself comfortable in a separate chair from the couch, a weighted blanket wrapped around him, save for his hands.

“I don’t know, I just don’t like it,” Wilbur paused, watching Techno’s hands move. “No, I still think if I watched it all the way through I’d like it just as much. Which is to say, not at all.”

“Boys,” Phil chuckled, stopping their argument in its tracks. It wasn’t really an argument so much as two siblings bickering, but Tommy was thankful when it stopped Wilbur’s voice from becoming any louder.

“We’re watching this Heather's bootleg, it’s the only thing me and Tech could agree on. Except for the BMC bootleg, but the quality was so shit we didn’t bother.” Wilbur told Phil, making both of them laugh.

Tommy tilted his head a bit as Wilbur finally pressed play on the remote. It wasn’t a movie and looked very illegal to record, but it didn’t take long for Tommy to watch attentively. The video might be unstable and the audio might have sounded like it was overlaid with the sounds of a blender, but the story was too intriguing to bore Tommy.

While the other three started chatting a bit through the movie, obviously having seen this play before, Tommy’s attention stayed firm on the screen.

Wilbur must have noticed this, as he addressed the other boy. “Tommy?” He asked.

Tommy cut him off almost immediately, “Shut the fuck up, I’m trying to watch the thing,” Tommy replied, gesturing to the screen. His body stiffened, realizing what he’d just said, before ultimately relaxing as Wilbur devolved into a fit of laughter.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Toms,” Wilbur said, before going back to bickering with Techno and Phil. Something in Tommy warmed at the use of the name, making Tommy smile as his attention went back to the film.

---

“Eret called,” Phil started, before starting on his plate.

“The traitor,” Wilbur said. Tommy thought he sounded almost angry, but Phil only laughed. It was a joke, then.

“They said they’re gonna be out of town tomorrow- family emergency. I called Ranboo and Tubbo to cover, but they’re inexperienced. Hannah and Niki are gonna be swamped- I know Hannah is working on a proposal with a client- so I wanted one of us to be there. I know tomorrow is a Monday and Tommy isn’t enrolled yet, so it’s really just whoever wants to get out of the house for the day.”

Tommy took another bite of his meal, questions already forming in his head. “You guys all work together?” He asked.

Wilbur nodded. “Yeah, it’s dad’s business- I’m gonna inherit it when I’m older.”

Techno started rapidly signing, huffing when Wilbur purposefully ignored his signs.

“Wil,” Phil smiled, “You’re both inheriting the nursery when I retire, we’ve had this talk.”

Wilbur just smiled, going back to their original conversation. “I don’t mind going in if Techno doesn’t want to.”

Tommy zoned out of the conversation, thinking while he picked at his meal. Phil said he hadn’t been enrolled in school yet. It made sense, he only just got here. Did that mean he would be stuck in the house for the next week or so before he was enrolled in school? If the three of them weren’t at work, did they stay behind because he was arriving? Things didn’t make sense…

“Tommy?”

Tommy whipped his head back up, locking eyes with Phil. “Hm?”

“I was just asking if you’d like to come to the nursery with us tomorrow? You don’t have to, of course, but it might be nice to get out of the house.”

Tommy thought about it for a minute, staring back down at his food.

“How many people would be there?” He asked.

“Well, tomorrow’s Monday, so not as many as there would be on the weekend, but it’s probably going to be packed around 2.”

Tommy bit his lip, shaking his head. He couldn’t handle that many people, most likely mistaking him for a girl. Fuck, he needed a binder. Like, yesterday.

“That’s alright, mate.” Phil smiled. He seemed genuine. “Will, you’re good with going in tomorrow?”

Wilbur nodded and smiled. “Yup! Don’t worry Toms, you’ve got plenty of time to check out the nursery. I’m sure Tubbo and Ranboo will like you, too! They just started working last month-”

Tommy smiled, letting himself relax into Wilbur’s voice as they ate. He listened to stories about the boys Wilbur had mentioned and a few others about his co-workers. Wilbur seemed happy just to talk, not expecting any commentary but smiling wider when he got it.

Tommy went to sleep on his third day happy.

---

When he woke up, there was a knock on his door. Groaning, Tommy slipped out of his warm bed into the cold air in his room, trudging to the door and opening it a crack. He knew he must look like a feral raccoon- he does most days when he wakes up- but right now he doesn’t care.

“It’s too early for this bullshit,” Tommy yawns, looking up to see Technoblade standing at his door with a box in his hands.

Techno hands the box to Tommy, as well as a note on the top, before smiling and turning to walk to his room.

Tommy stares at the box, confused, before closing his door and placing the box on his bed.

The note read “Don’t bother paying me back for this- it’s a gift. Tell me if the size isn’t right, I had to estimate.”

Confusion laced his expression as he got to work opening the box. He struggled with the tape on the sides for a bit but eventually opened it. Inside, a piece of black fabric inside a plastic sleeve showed itself. Breath hitched in his throat when he realized what it was.

Quickly, he snatched up the fabric and ran to his bathroom, not bothering to shut the bedroom door- he needed a mirror and fast.

He scrambled to take off his shirt and bra, replacing them with the rougher but more comforting texture of the binder.

Holy fuck, it was a binder. Technoblade got him an actual real-life binder.

He smiled, wider than he had in months, maybe years at the sight of his chest, finally flat. He pulled on his shirt over himself, laughing at the sight. He never had a large chest, making it easier for binders to help him pass. It made his heart soar at the sight.

Tommy looked like himself. He looked like he wanted to.

A moment later, he was racing out of his room and to Technoblade’s door, knocking on the door frantically with a smile on his face.

When the door opened to Techno’s figure, he spoke immediately. “Techno! Please, can I please hug you- holy fuck this is the greatest moment of my life.”

Techno chuckled and nodded, opening his arms for Tommy’s hug. Tommy barrelled into his arms, laughing and repeating “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” over and over again.

Tommy didn’t expect Techno to respond. He knew Techno would be happy enough knowing that his gift was well-received.

Phil noticed Tommy’s chipper mood immediately when the younger blonde came rushing down the stairs. “What’s gotten you all excited, mate?” He asked.

“Techno got me a binder!” Tommy laughed.

“Awhhh, Technoooo, I was gonna get that for him!” Phil called, projecting his voice up the stairs.

Phil could hear a laugh from up the stairs, holding up his phone when it buzzed. Phil chuckled.

“He texted me ‘Suck it, old man, you were too slow.’ Fair enough.”

Tommy scavenged through the cupboards, pulling out a box of cereal and turning back to Phil.

“Oh, I forgot- I don’t want to make anything if you had plans…”

Phil just shook his head. “Go ahead, mate, usually I only cook breakfast when it’s for all of us and Wilbur is already out to work.”

Tommy smiled and nodded, making himself a bowl of cereal and sitting at the table. He pushed down the anxiety that threatened to claw its way out of him at the actions of being too comfortable around Phil. It didn’t matter right now- everyone was happy, it was okay.

“So, Tommy,” Phil started. “I wanted your input if you wanted to start any kind of hormones for your transition.” He paused for a bit.

Tommy looked up at him, eyes wide. “But I’m… I’m so young, I thought they didn’t do that until you were an adult?”

“Without legal guardians, yes, you have to be an adult. But because I’m fostering you, I can sign off as a legal guardian. If you don’t want to, I know it’s not a requirement for trans men to take hormones, you really don’t have to. But I want your opinion on it.”

Tommy was practically vibrating in his seat at the mention of it- he’d get to start testosterone before 18!

“Yes! Oh my god, I would love to! I thought I was gonna have to wait two more years for this!”

Phil smiled. He was already getting attached. But of course, he was, he always fostered to adopt. Tommy was already his newest son, his youngest child. Even if Tommy didn’t know it yet.

“Alright, I’ll set up an appointment for that, then. It’s going to be a long process, but I’m glad it’s going to be good for you, mate.”

Things had been so amazing in this house, Tommy thought. He hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t get worse. But things have to get worse to get better.