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“Tommy?”
Tommy looked up from his spot on the couch, Fran asleep on his lap. He scratched her in between the ears.
Sam looked nervous, Tommy had never seen him like that. He looked everywhere but Tommys face, his hands were clenching by his sides, he was sweating. Tommy ignored how much it scared him, Sam wasn’t supposed to get nervous.
“Are you alright big man?” Tommy asked, he smiled to keep it lighthearted. Sam nodded once and cleared his throat, he opened and closed his mouth a few times before talking.
“You spend a lot of time here,”
Tommy tilted his head, “And? You got a problem bitch?” He didn’t know what he'd do if Sam said yes. Probably cry about it or something stupid like that.
Sam laughed awkwardly, “No- I just…” He took a deep breath,
“Do you want to move in?”
Stupid fucking Sam. Fucking creeper bitch. Shit. Fuck. Prick. Bitch.
Tommy hates him.
The audacity to just ask a thing like that. To ask Tommy if he wants to move in when Tommy so obviously does. Sam has been the best thing to happen to him in so long. Sam is funny, Sam is gentle and nice, being around Sam always makes him so happy and warm.
So how dare he do this?
Of course Tommy wants to move in, he’d do anything for Sam.
But he can’t say yes, can he?
No. That would be selfish. Tommy is trying to not be selfish anymore. Sam is building him a hotel, made him a robot, always comforting him, protecting him, and giving him things. He can't ask for more. Besides he has a house, a nice little hobbit hole and a farm to take care of. He can’t give all of that up! He just got it back. Those are his things, that's his life.
Besides, Sam is… weird.
Tommy distinctly remembers a time when Sam asked him to come over, Tommy wanted to, he loved spending time with Sam, but he had plans with Tubbo. So he told Sam just that, that he couldn’t because he wanted to spend time with Tubbo.
Sam didn't get mad.
It was the weirdest fucking thing in the world. Tommy, for the most part, understands that ‘healthy’ relationships don't involve getting hit every time he does something wrong. But Sam had a right to get mad, Tommy was being rude, Tommy chose someone over him.
Puffy had tried to explain that it wasn't that deep, Tommy rightfully told her that was bullshit.
It wasn't an isolated incident either. Sam never got mad at anything he did. When Tommy stole his things, in front of him, Sam would laugh. When Tommy pushed him away and got angry over nothing Sam asked him if he was okay, he never told him he was being ‘inconsiderate’ or ‘a bad friend’.
Sam was weird.
Part of Tommy liked the weirdness. Because regardless of what happened he always felt safe around Sam. Tommy has had a few… episodes around him (panic attacks or PTSD triggers) and Sam always calmed him down. Tommy trusts Sam with his life, part of him has been wanting to move in for weeks.
But he can’t.
He’s fully convinced he can’t.
Maybe if he says it enough it’ll feel real.
“So,” Puffy says, tapping her pencil on her notepad. She started doing that when Tommy admitted he was holding back fiddling with things. Dream got annoyed when Tommy did stuff like that, snapping his fingers, whistling, rocking, little things. He just couldn’t fucking hold still. Puffy said it was fine, and ever since then she’d tap her pencil. Tommy hated how considerate she was. “How’s the hotel going?”
Tommy bristles, he just wanted to go one day without thinking about Sam. After the question Tommy fled his base and went back to his hut. He wanted to mull over the question before deciding and now he was going to have to talk about the man in question.
Tommys sitting criss-crossed on the sofa in her office. He squeezes the pillow in his lap a little tighter.
He looks away, “It’s fine,”
The tapping stops.
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
“Do you not want to talk about it?” her voice is gentle, “If Sam did something-“
“He didn’t!” Tommy finally looks back up at her, he puts on the nastiest glare he can come up with. How fucking dare she accuse Sam of doing something wrong.
“Okay,” she says softly. “I believe you, I just wanted to make sure,”
Tommy collapses back into himself, he puts his face on the top of the pillow. He breathes in the scent of her office, it smells sweet, like the ocean. But not the salt he grew to despise, it’s something fresh.
“Sams weird,” he finally mumbles. He doesn't know why he says it, but he supposes it has to do with something about expressing his feelings. He's going to therapy for a reason. Maybe Puffy will understand, though she's weird herself sometimes.
“What do you mean?” She asks. Tommy glances up, she's looking at him with her head tilted. Her long sheep ear brushes her shoulder, Tommy thinks it's funny. He shrugs.
“I don’t fuckin’ know- He just does weird shit,”
He sees the smile she tries to fight off her face, “And what do you define as ‘weird shit’?” Tommy tries very hard not to laugh, he's supposed to be sulking. He shrugs again.
“I don’t know. He just- He- ugh-,” He puts his face back into the pillow.
The tapping starts back up, “Is it a good weird or a bad weird.”
“Good weird,” he says, voice muted by the fabric. He lifts up his face and sets his feet on the ground.
“I know… I know I dont have the best experiences with ‘good or healthy relationships’ but some of the things Sam does just don't make sense. I mean- You told me that me and Tubbo, for the most part, have a good relationship. You said he’s good to me, at least from what you’ve heard.”
“I did say that, yes.”
She had said it after a group therapy session. She said that Tommy and Tubbo had a lot they needed to talk out so Tubbo was dragged all the way from Snowchester. A long conversation, turned into an argument, until Puffy forcibly ended the meeting, Tommy decided he was fucking sick of Tubbo he didn’t need that bastard. Tommy lasted three hours before caving, he couldn’t stop fucking crying. Apparently Tubbo was crying too.
The night was quiet, full of hugs, tears, whispered apologies, and star gazing.
Puffy said that Tubbo was a good friend.
“Sam isn't like Tubbo,”
If Tubbo is good and Tubbo is different does that make Sam bad? That didn't sound right, he liked Sam.
“No, but there is more than one way to have a positive relationship with someone. Just because their different doesn't mean either of them are bad.”
There it is, Puffy always made things make sense.
“Sam doesn't get angry with me,” Tommy murmurs.
“That’s a good thing?” She sounds confused.
“It is, but it's just weird. I understand the little things, like it's not normal for someone to yell at you until you can’t breathe, and it’s not normal for someone to hit you when you mess up-“
She cuts him off, “Those aren’t little things Tommy, but continue,”
“But Sam just, doesn’t get annoyed or frustrated with me. Even when I do things that Tubbo or Ranboob would scold me for. Sam just has, like, infinite patience, its weird. Or when he does get angry, it's never real anger. It's more like he's chiding me. One time, we were walking together and fuckin’ Eret had left out one of their chest. I obviously went to go look at it because, you know, free stuff. Sam was all ‘mememe don't do that Tommy that belongs to someone mememe.’ I ignored him becasue I can do whatever the fuck I want and he was like ‘Tommy I dont mind if you take from me but I dont think you should take from other people, not unless you can pay them back,”
“Like what the fuck? Tubbo would’ve stolen with me, Ranboo would’ve told the person I was stealing from because he’s a little bitch- Sam just gave me an out and a reason. He’s so fucking weird.”
Tommy pauses for a second after his rant, he looks up to see Puffy writing on her damn notepad. She taps the pencil a few times, “Is there anything else about him you find weird?” She asks without looking up.
Tommy swallowed thickly.
“He’s nice,” Tommy whispers.
He clenches and unclenches his fists. He sets the pillow aside and puts his arms around himself, his leg starts shaking against his control.
“Tubbo will compliment me, like when I hit a target, when I find something cool, when I finish a project. But… Sam does it so differently. He’s just constantly almost overbearingly nice. Every time we talk it’s ‘good to see you Tommy’ or ‘good job kiddo’ or ‘I’m proud of you’-“ Tommy stops quickly when he feels his voice about to crack. He is not going to cry over this like some pussy. He’s fine. It just feels nice when Sam says that.
“So, Tubbo is nice to you about the big things. Things most people would congratulate you on. But when It comes to Sam, he finds a way to make everything you’ve done an accomplishment and he points it out, right?”
Tommy nods.
“He's always so good to me. No matter what I do, he tells me I’m funny, a hard worker, make great sandwiches, tells me I do a good job... But it hasn’t just been once or twice, its everyday. Its weird.”
“Do you like it?” Puffy asks.
Tommy looks up.
“When he says stuff like that?” She clarifies.
Tommy nods, the back of his eyes burn and his throat closes up.
He likes it so much. Sam is so open with him, Sam never hesitates to ruffle his hair or laugh at his jokes. Sam makes him feel so safe and happy, because Sam reminds him every day that hes fucking worth something. And around Sam, he actually believes it.
It clicks.
Fuck his house. Fuck that dirty shack. Fuck his stupid farm.
Of course he wants to move in with Sam. After that revelation he couldn’t not. And it's not like he's bothering him either, Sam asked in the first place, all Tommy had to do was say yes.
He instantly sprung up off the couch. Puffy startled back a bit, her curly hair bouncing with her. Tommy gives her the biggest shit eating grin he's ever given anyone in his life, “I need to go,” is all he says before running out the door. He hears Puffy call back for him but he pays it no mind. He speeds through her office and forgets to close the door behind him.
He makes it to Sam's base in 10 minutes. Which is rather impressive considering it's normally an hour away.
Tommy is panting so hard he doesn't bother sucking in the spit that falls out of his mouth. His entire body burns and sweat drips off him like rain, his shirt and pants stick to him like glue.
He stands, hands on his knees just waiting for Sam to open the fucking door. His vision is a little fuzzy and his hair is in his eyes, but it doesn't matter. He only needs to not pass out long enough to tell him.
The door does open eventually, its a loud fucking entence and the stone falls to the ground. Sam has always been a little over dramatic shit. All his fancy redstone and stuff.
Sam himself is standing on the other side of the door. His mask is gone, his goggles are pushed to the top of his head. When he sees Tommy he tilts his head, his eyebrows furrow and he frowns a little, “Are you okay?” Is the first thing he asks.
Tommy holds up a single finger, still trying to catch his breath. After a few seconds of awkward silence Tommy finally breathes deep enough to feel the air in the bottom of his lungs, he lets it go.
“Sam?” He has to make this quick or he’ll back out.
“Yes Tommy?” He sounds hesitant, Tommy notices the way his hands twitch at his sides. Sam's fingers do that when he wants to hug or touch Tommy but doesn't want to be overbearing.
“I have my answer. For the question you asked last night.”
Sam instantly tenses, like he's prepared for a rejection. One of his green scaled covered ears twitch, his eyes soften.
“Yes. You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon bitch.”