Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Green-tinted darkness surrounded Phil as he perched at the edge of a rafter, the metal underneath his gloves growing warm. Silently, he twisted his head, eyes narrowed as he tried to puzzle out what the blurry shapes underneath him were. 

Shit. He should’ve bought better night vision glasses. His old ones had been perfect, but he'd broken them running away from the L'manberg police just a week ago. Inside his head, he mourned the loss. 

Thankfully, his eyes adjusted as time went on, and the perfect place to jump the presented itself in the form of a shelf that sat about a metre or two away from him, a bit of a drop down. He leaned forward, the slightly achy muscles in his calves tensed, and leapt with as much strength as he could muster.

Phil’s back met the wood of the shelf with a loud thud. He rolled onto his feet quickly, knowing the guards had probably heard it- just as planned. He shuffled to the edge of the shelf and jumped again, wincing at the sharp pang of pain that shot up his feet as he landed.

He broke into a sprint, his mask muffling his breathing as he kept searching for the door and-

Bingo.

Phil fumbled for the keys he'd tucked away in his pocket after stealing them from a very easy-to-defeat guard. With quick, practiced motions, he inserted the key into the hidden keyhole of unassuming door in front of him, pushing it open and then closed as the distant sound of footsteps grew louder.

Fuck, they were catching up faster than expected. Despite his disguise, being seen would not be good for him.

Phil raced through white hallways, past wooden doors and jail cells, internally cursing how his mask impaired his breathing. He should've left it behind- the goggles did enough to cover his face.

He barely even had to think as he turned corners and split paths, having played through this exact scenario in his mind a thousand times over. He knew his path like the back of his hand.

He had worked so fucking hard for this, and he was not going to let it go drown the drain. His mind flashed back to Quackity now, as his feet dashed down the familiar route.
For all his reputation and bravado, the man had been ridiculously easy to manipulate.

“Phil, if this disease kills me, I want you to be Schlatt’s next right hand man. You’re the only one I trust with this power and responsibility.” he had said, eyes glassy and almost unseeing as they stared up at him. Phil had almost laughed then, knowing he was the reason Quackity was even in the hospital bed in the first place. But he hadn’t, only spewing fake, comforting words to Quackity on his deathbed. Phil had poisoned the man, cried at his funeral, and gotten away with nothing but sympathetic looks and more power.

He didn’t even regret it. 

Phil cut his thoughts short as he turned the corner and hid, tucking his knees close to his chest as he grabbed a small explosive from his bag, waiting. The thud of the wooden door sounded somewhere in the distance.

As soon as he heard footsteps, Phil lit the bomb’s fuse, taking out another, differently colored one and clutching it tightly in his hand.

He took a deep breath.

The thundering sound of footsteps grew louder.

He could hear voices now.

He peeked out from his corner, watching the hall like a hawk.

As soon as he saw the first man appeared at the end of it, Phil threw both bombs down the hallway, watching them land and then go off with a boom and a hiss, filling the place with smoke just as all the guards turned the corner. That would hopefully knock most, if not all the men out.

Although, there was always the chance that more people were coming.

Shoving his matchbox back into his pocket, Phil got up and began to run again.

He wasn’t far now, just a few more turns from his target’s room.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he arrived at a hallway lined with 5 rooms, each door marked with a gold nameplate. Multiple guards stood protectively in front of middle door, looking around nervously.

As if they'd be able to do anything even if they saw Phil coming. 

That, of course, was where he had to go- Schlatt’s safe room. If a break in was detected, that was where they were to bring the man.

Phil pulled out his knives from the insides of sleeves and rushed into the hallway, heart racing with adrenaline as he slit two of the guards’ throats at the same time, the poison on the knives ensuring that even if they somehow survived the cut, they wouldn't stay alive for long.

He ducked under an incoming fist and swept another guard’s feet from underneath him, proceeding to kick him in the ribs with his steel-toed boots hard enough to keep him down as he punched the fourth guard square in the jaw.

He leaned down and stabbed them both through the heart, grimacing as blood got on his sleeve.

Sighing internally at the prospect of having to buy another hoodie, he turned his attention to the last guard, who was quietly trying to sneak past him in the chaos.

Phil’s eyes narrowed and he grabbed him by the neck before he could make a run for it, snapping the man’s head to the side with his other hand, a sharp crack echoing in the now-empty hallway.

He let go, watching the guard crumple to ground before checking for a pulse and stabbing the man when he felt one.

Really, you'd think a snapped neck would be enough to kill a man.

He re-sheathed his knives, knowing that the guards’ screams had probably alerted any other conscious guards to where he was, which meant he had to work fast.

Phil kicked down the door, mentally patting himself on the back for buying tough-soled shoes. If his soles were any softer, his feet would be probably broken from all the kicking and jumping he had done that day.

The smell of alcohol hit him as soon as he entered the room, muted by his gas mask but still awfully pungent, mixing with the metallic scent of blood to create something so disgusting it made Phil want to puke. Still, he resisted the urge to run out of the place when he spotted his target sitting on a stain-ridden bed with a dazed, dopey expression. The man's posture was relaxed despite the danger, alcohol dripping down his chin and empty bottles at his feet. Phil wrinkled his nose as the urge to vomit intensified.

“Hi,” Schlatt slurred when he noticed Phil after nearly thirty seconds, a wide grin on his face.

It was kind of ridiculous that this was the man he spent hours plotting to kill.

“Schlatt.” He spat . “I would say goodbye, but you don’t deserve that.”

Phil pulled out a blade strapped to his calf, reveling in the horrified expression that took over Schlatt's face when he processed what Phil was holding.

The golden blade shone a little, even in the darkness. The sapphires decorating it’s hilt in their unique pattern made it easily recognizable, even to Schlatt's alcohol-muddled brain.

He knew using Quackity’s knife would get a reaction. It had been the same knife Schlatt had given him when they'd gotten engaged- the same one Quackity had threatened to use to kill him when their relationship began to fall apart. 

He'd died before any of those plans could be brought to fruition. 

“How-how do you have that?” Schlatt stuttered out, eyes wide and fear-filled.

“Quackity is- he's dead. I thought- I got rid of that- that knife” hic  “ages ago.”

Phil grinned, despite the fact that Schlatt couldn’t see it.

“What, you don’t recognize me?” He taunted, moving closer slowly, almost laughing at the way Schlatt scrambled backwards desperately.

He stopped for a second, watching Schlatt with disdain and sadistic joy. After a second, he darted towards the terrified man, pinning Schlatt to the wall, one hand pulling at his collar to keep him up and the other poised with the knife against Schlatt’s rapidly moving throat.

Phil could hear his panicked breathing as he leaned in, mouth right next to Schlatt's ear.

“I’m the man that killed your fiance. And, I’m the man that’s going to take your place. Your successor. Remember my name, because it's the last thing you'll hear,” he whispered, his words carrying cruelly amusement.

Schlatt's breath hitched.

“Phil, the Angel of Death.”

Gold cut cleanly through Schlatt’s throat before he could say a word.

Phil turned him around, stabbing him twice through the back to make sure he wouldn’t survive until help arrived, and then let him crumple onto the bed, eyes still wide open in horror, to bleed out.

Then, he took a second to catch his breath, leisurely cleaning and recoating his knives with poison as well as strapping the golden blade back to the side of his calf.

He hummed a quiet tune into the blood-splattered room, an immovable smile on his face. 

Finally, when he was done, he stretched, gun in one hand, knife in the other, and prepared to get the fuck out.

Chapter Text

The coffee was cold, Phil’s day was ruined and his disappointment was immeasurable. All he'd wanted was to look through criminal records in peace. 

But noooooo, he had to plan fucking Schlatt’s funeral, and come up with some bullshit speech to give during it, and tie up all the loose ends he had just left there when he died. Honestly, Phil was kind of regretting the whole killing Schlatt thing. Well, not really. He knew it would be worth it. ( It had to be .)

Didn’t mean he didn’t absolutely despise all the work he had to deal with now. 

For the biggest mafia boss in town, Schlatt had terrible organization skills. And also way, way too many powerful enemies. Seeing as Phil was now in charge of basically everything, he had to go around fixing Schlatt’s fuck ups.

God fucking dammit, he didn’t have the energy for this. 

Phil dumped his now stone cold coffee into the drain, going for some nice, warm, milk tea instead.

It turned out that sitting in front of a computer screen for 5 hours straight and typing almost constantly was rather draining. 

But, well, their information storage system was absolutely dog shit, so it using it wasn't exactly a walk in the park. Finding anything in that mess was practically impossible. Evidence? See exhibit A: Phil.

The main reason he even needed to get to Schlatt’s position was to access those records. Finding out he couldn’t even find what he wanted without probably doing days of digging had been the biggest disappointment of his life. Well, maybe the second biggest after- (Author: hah. You thought. Not getting the tragic backstory that quickly.)

He poured his tea into his “Caw Caw Motherfucker” mug (That always made him smile. Best gift ever.) and took a sip of the scalding hot substance, sighing wearily.

Gods, he was tired.

He settled back into the pink gaming chair (Schlatt had some weird taste) in front of the computer, taking another sip of his tea before getting ready to continue his search.

He was so fucking tired.

--------

A week and some fake crying later, the funeral was over and done with, Phil had gathered all the information he needed, and the bags under his eyes looked more like bruises.

Phil rubbed at his temples, the headache that was slowly getting worse doing nothing to help his shit mental state.

The screen of the computer emitted a bright white glow, and Phil felt like it was taunting him.

It had become so familiar to him in the past few days that he honestly felt like just punching the damn thing. 

Thank the gods for his self control. 

Phil sipped at his water as he closed his eyes, deciding to take a small break for now.

All he had to do was write the documents, file them, and then he could crash. Sleep for as long as he wanted and wake up as late as he wanted to.

There was only one document he hadn't written yet, but it was easily the hardest to write. Phil lets his mind wander, recalling the information about his three teammates.

He had picked really good teammates, honestly.

The Blade, Soot and Innit were easily some of the best criminals he could’ve chosen. The hard part would probably be convincing them to actually join him. But, well, Phil was nothing if not persuasive .

The Blade was a world-class assassin, known for pulling off hits without using any weapons other than a single, silvery knife. The only time he had used any of his other weapons was in a fight with the mafia boss Dream over the mistreatment of a child. Phil was pretty damn proud when he read about that one. (He also felt really, really curious as to how anyone got that information, but who was he to question it.) 

The Blade was also known for his trademark look- a billowy red cape with a fluffy white hood, blood red eyes and a pig-like mask. Phil thought it was a little over the top, but it was definitely cool. Despite how intimidating he seemed to most people, Phil knew he was nowhere near that scary in day to day life. 

They had been friends (family?) once, a long time ago when The Blade was still very young and just starting out, and Phil was just some guy who saw potential in the kid. The Blade, or rather, as Phil usually called him, Techno, was just an awkward, emotionally constipated guy with a penchant for violence and death. 

Honestly, Phil treasured his memories with him, and sometimes he still longed for the quiet conversations at 2 am about potatoes and the best way to kill a man. 

His training partner had long since lost contact with him though, and he could only hope that their old friendship would be helpful in getting the Blade to help him out.

His second teammate was much less prestigious, but still very  good at his job. Innit was just a thief, known for his willingness to take up basically any mission, as long as it wasn’t literally suicidal or just really fucked up. Phil definitely needed that, because not many people would be willing to take up the mission he was planning to pull off. 

What really made Phil pick him, though, was the fact  that despite having been chased by the police multiple times, Innit had never actually been caught or arrested.

 His identity was hidden behind a red eye mask and a large, metal mask-like contraption that covered the lower half of his face. Innit had a 100% success rate on his missions as far as Phil knew, and reports say he had never actually committed any major crimes outside of his thievery.

It sounded too good to be true, but there was nothing that suggested any of the reports to be faked, and there were plenty of records of Innit’s heists. Some that shocked even Phil. After reading those reports, Phil was pretty damn sure Innit would take the job in a heartbeat. 

It sounded like he was just some poor guy, trying to make money. Money was something Phil had more than enough of.

The third teammate, the one that Phil still needed to start his document on, was Soot. A criminal that was practically impossible to track down and find, known only to the highly ranked or those with a lot of connections. Soot was a complete mystery, using different looks and names to weasel into organizations and gain people’s trust, then pulling off whatever job was required or reporting the required information to their employer. 

No one outside of the criminal web knew of Soot’s existence, and no one knew who they were, what they really looked like, or what their real name was. Basically, finding any information that would be useful for negotiations was impossible.

There were very few records of crimes that actually pointed back to Soot, all dating back to at least a year ago, and even those only existed because they had been written by Soot’s employers themselves. The only real motivation Phil could think of was money. 

Phil needed someone like Soot on his team, and the mystery man certainly seemed to be a pro at his job. Phil, however, had no idea what to include in his notes for negotiations, and the idea of Soot actually agreeing to take the job sounded fake, even in Phil’s head. 

There really wasn’t much Phil could do though, except offer the man whatever he wanted. So, with a sip of water and a new burst of energy, he started typing.

----

Staring down at the files in his hands, Phil feels pride well inside him because damn he did a great job picking out and hiring his teammates for the mission. Gods, finding even shreds of information about them had been so incredibly difficult he had almost given up like, 50 times in the past week. But now, after 3 phone calls and some very smooth talking, he had three of the best criminals coming in to meet him tomorrow.

The Angel of Death, The Blade, Soot and Innit. It sounded perfect. What could go wrong?

A lot of things, actually. What if they didn’t show up? What if it was a trap? What if they took one look at the contract and decided, no, fuck this and left? Despite how well the phone calls went, Phil couldn’t help the anxiety that gnawed at his thoughts. 

He needed this to go well. He couldn’t fail. Phil paced around the room, his thoughts going too fast for him to keep up. Reasonably, there wasn’t much else he could do until the three criminals actually came to see him. But then again, he didn’t give two shits about reason. 

He needed to do something  to get out his nervous energy. He stopped as he remembered. The information storage system! He could get that fixed. Phil set the files down on the table, and picked up his laptop. Time for more typing. Y a y.

Chapter Text

The pig mask felt like it was staring into Phil’s soul as he sat there awkwardly.

“So. How are you.” Techno said in that monotone voice of his that Phil had missed for so long.

Turns out talking to someone after 6 years was not easy. 

“Good mate, how are you?”

The Blade cleared his throat. “I’m doin’ alright. Details for the job?”

Phil's body flooded with relief, but he hoped it didn't show on his face. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Techno about normal, everyday stuff, it was just that it had been years since they had held an actual conversation. Phil didn't know what to say; for all he knew, Techno was entirely different from what he had been like when they were friends.

“I need to break into a safe in Pandora’s vault.” Techno’s blood red eyes stared at him judgingly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah. I can’t explain why, at least not now, but I really, really need to pull it off. It’ll probably take a couple months to actually plan, and there will be plenty of smaller jobs to pull off in order to do the main heist. It’ll be me, you, Soot and Innit, two other people I’m going to speak with in a bit. We’ll meet every other day at my place, and you’ll probably have to help train them if they’re not good enough in combat. Essentially, you’ll be required to do whatever I need from you in order to pull off the heist. Your payment will be 350k, and it’s negotiable.” 

Techno kept staring at him silently for a few more moments as he mulled it over before speaking again.

“Okay, I’ll take it. I want an explanation at some point, but I'll sign the contract for now. 350k is fine.”

Phil smiled brightly at his old friend, reaching into Techno’s file to pull out two contracts. 

Phil signed them before pushing the pen and the papers towards The Blade with a smile still present on his lips.

After reading the contract, Techno signed at the designated spots and handed one back to Phil. Sliding the paper back into the file, Phil finally allowed himself to let his guard down a bit, knowing Techno would never run the risk of being on his bad side.

“You know, it’s been a while. We should hang out, away from all the work-related things and catch up.” 

After a moment of hesitation, Phil continued. “I’ve missed you these past couple years, mate.”

It was hard to tell with the mask, but Phil thought he caught a glimpse of surprise in the usually stoic man’s expression.

“...Yeah. I’ve missed ya’ too.” It was quiet, hesitating, but it sounded genuine.

“I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, then. 3 pm. Try not to be late.” Amusement tinged Phil’s voice as he watched Techno get up, contract carefully folded and held in his hand.

“Pf. I bet you’re the one who’s goin’ to be late.”

“It’s my house!”

“Wouldn’t put it past you.” Any left over awkwardness seemed to evaporate as the pair bickered, replaced by fondness and nostalgia.

It seemed Techno wasn't all that different after all.

“Bye, mate.”

“Bye bye, old man.”

“Oi!”

The tension in Phil’s shoulders had eased after the meeting with Techno, a fond smile still lingering on his lips.

He shoved the emotions down, knowing he couldn't allow himself to show weakness at the time, and forced himself into professionalism again. 

Soot would be at Phil's office in about 30 minutes, and he couldn’t afford to be careless with the mysterious man.

Phil pulled out his phone, hoping to pass the time and distract himself from his nerves until he could finally get the meetings done with. After what felt like forever, there was a light knock at the door. Phil shot up instantly, pausing to compose himself before opening the door to see-

Well. that was… something.

The man standing in his doorway was completely covered in black. A giant hoodie engulfed his figure, a black turtleneck underneath covering any exposed skin. Sunglasses covered his eyes and a black cloth mask covered the rest of his face. 

The hood was pulled up, and a beanie sat underneath it, completely covering all his hair. There wasn’t a single feature that could be used to identify him on display, except maybe his height, but that was pretty much impossible to disguise. 

Catching himself staring, Phil cleared his throat before gesturing for the man to come in.

“Soot?”

A deep, gravelly voice answered him. “That would be me.”

Sitting back down, Phil offered an easy smile to his hopefully future teammate. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. Like I said yesterday, I’m Phil, or as you probably know me, The Angel of Death.”

Soot nodded at that, then curiously asked, “Why would you just give me your identity like that?” 

Curiosity- Phil mentally filed away that little hint about Soot's personality.

Phil laughed, keeping up his relaxed façade.

“Well, I am going to make you sign an NDA about it if you don’t agree to the contract, but it was mostly to give you an incentive to actually hear me out. Figured it’d interest you, and I’m known as Phil here.” 

Soot nodded again, satisfied. “Tell me about the job, then.”

Phil took a deep breath, getting ready to spew the same speech again. 

“I want to break into a safe in Pandora’s Vault. I’m not willing to explain my reasoning just yet, but you won’t be pulling it off alone. The team I’m planning to assemble is you, me, The Blade and Innit. We’ll meet every other day at my place to discuss the plan, new information, and to train if necessary. The heist itself will need preparation, and we’ll probably have to do smaller jobs to work our way up to it. It should take about 1-2 months to pull it off. You’ll be required to get a job as a security guard for the vault, and you’ll have to get the warden’s trust as well as schematics, information,etc. You’ll also be required to participate in the heist itself and in training, unless you have a legitimate reason not to. Your compensation will be 400k, it’s negotiable.” 

Phil took a deep breath again, sipping at his water bottle. Gods, he didn’t want to have to do that again. 

“Well, the price is negotiable, right?”

Phil eyed Soot warily. “Yeah, what do you want?”

When Soot spoke again, Phil could almost hear the evil grin in his voice. “400k and a favor from you.” 

Slamming his head into the wall was feeling like a really tempting thing right now. Money and power was one thing. A favour was another. Soot could make him do anything, and he would be powerless to resist. The contract meant Soot would be free to do whatever he wanted without consequences; no one would dare disrespect a contract. It was the fastest way to get yourself killed.

It was incredibly dangerous to agree, but Phil needed this. 

He sighed. “Alright. It’s a deal.”

Grudgingly, he pulled out the contracts and signed them, giving them to Soot to do the same. After that was done, Soot stood up, flashing a peace sign at Phil. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Angel.”

All Phil wanted to do was take a knife and slice his fingers right off. But he had self control, so he just gave Soot a smile.

“I’ll see you day after tomorrow, 3 pm.”

With another nod, Soot walked off, shutting the door behind him as Phil let his head drop onto the table. That had been terrible . 

Thoughts of doing extremely violent things to Soot refused to leave his brain. What an asshole.

Phil was so very done with the day.

He felt so exhausted that he could probably go to sleep right then and there.

(Author does not want to write this again. Please help. It’s 2am. I just wanna get to the fun bits. All I want to do is write fluff. Why must the plot exist.)

Just one more meeting . He reminded himself. Just one more.

Half an hour later, Innit arrived, and he was certainly not what Phil had been expecting. 

“Just give me the contract and I’ll fucking sign it, I don’t care what the job is. If you’re really offering 350k I’m already in.” 

A tall, lanky boy with dirty blond hair, a red face mask and a voice modulator. It was exactly what the description was, but seeing him in person was just different. He looked...young. Not to mention he was loud. 

“Hi mate.” Phil said, keeping a polite smile on his face. “Why don’t you sit down and hear me out first?”

“Please, I’m good enough that I’ll pull off whatever heist it is you need me to pull off. I’m a big man, nothing is beyond me.” 

A sigh interrupted Innit’s little speech. “That’s great and all, but why don’t we discuss it first.” Phil frowned a little bit as a realization hit him.

“Also, how old are you?” 

Innit froze a little bit before relaxing again and sitting on the chair in front of Phil. “I’m not giving away my age, but I’m over 18 if that’s what you’re worried about. And I really don’t get what we have to discuss, honestly. Just give me the contract.” 

Phil was going to have to deal with this for a month. Possibly even longer. He shivered a bit as he imagined the hell that would be him and Soot together. Well. No way to backtrack now. 

“The heist will be one at Pandora’s vault.” That, of fucking course, caused the other to straight up start screaming.

“WHAT!? Big man you know that’s literally impossible. No wonder you’re giving that much. What the fuck. I am the best thief ever and even I admit that’s basically impossible.” 

Phil let out yet another long suffering sigh.

“Please, just listen for a bit. It’s not just going to be you alone. It’ll be a team of you, me, The Blade and Soot.”

“THE BLADE?” 

A glare sent his way made him quiet down. 

“Yes, The Blade. As I was saying, it’ll take a couple months to pull off, and there will be smaller heists to pull off so we can do the main one and there may be training, depending on your skill. You’ll have to meet at my house every other day to share information and tips with the others, and we’ll come up with a plan. Compensation is 350k, negotiable. Now, you can ask whatever questions you have.” 

Innit, who looked like he was about to explode from keeping quiet, immediately asked a string of questions. “Who the fuck is Soot? No offence but why are you on the team, aren’t you just some mafia boss? Do I really get to meet the Blade!? Will you raise the price if I ask? Will I have to kill or torture anyone? What does “training” mean?” 

Phil wanted to sigh again, fuck politeness. So he did, before answering the questions.

“Soot is a criminal known to manipulate his way into getting information and things like that. I’m not just some mafia boss, I’m the Angel of death-” 

“What the fuck, I'm talking to the Angel of Death?!” The blond screeched even louder, making Phil wince. 

“..yeah Innit, you are.”

“Oh my god you are amazing and poggers and the only man ever!!!"

“...Thanks Innit.” 

Jesus Christ Innit was weird.

“Can I have an autograph?!” Innit asked excitedly.

Bewildered, Phil stared at the other, realizing that he was actually being serious. 

“Uhhhh, if you accept the job, sure.”

Innit stopped for a second, pausing to think, before agreeing.

“Alright, I accept.”

Phil blinked, before ultimately deciding the weirdness could be overlooked and pulling out the contracts.

Phil passed them to Innit after signing them and watched as the thief took his time reading it, occasionally squinting or staring dumbfounded at the paper. 

It was taking him a while, almost 5 minutes having passed, but Phil wasn’t going to comment on it. He knew a lot of people didn’t have the fortune of getting a good education. 

Eventually, Innit signed the contracts and handed one back, pocketing the other.

“...where do you want that autograph, mate?”

Innit grabbed a plain piece of paper from beside Phil’s printer, handing it to Phil with a little snort. 

“There.” Phil barely bit back his own chuckle as he signed the piece of paper.

“Here ya go mate. I’ll see you at 3 pm the day after tomorrow, the address is on the contract.”

“Yeah big man, I know. Bye.”

(Guys. GUYS I JUST FINISHED WRITING THE BORING BIT AND I WAS GONNA DO THE FUN BIT BUT KNOW I’M TOO TIRED TO DO THE FUN BIT. THE BORING BIT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 500 WORDS BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY :(((()

Chapter Text

Careful fingers traced over an old photo frame as Phil drowned in his own nostalgia.

He smiled wistfully down at the picture, at her looking so happy, so beautiful.

The worst part, Phil thought, was how bittersweet the memories of her had become.

His quiet reverence was interrupted by the doorbell, an odd sound to Phil after spending so long without visitors.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, sending one last longing look at the photo frame before calling a loud “just a minute!” down to whoever was at his door.

Phil grabbed a black, feathered eye mask off his bed and set it on his face, fastening it behind his head. He hurried out of the room, locking his door behind him and pocketing the key. 

You could never be too careful. 

Phil let himself slip into a polite facade and checked the peephole before opening the door. 

“Innit! Welcome, welcome. Please, come inside. You’re early!”

Innit huffed in annoyance. “Don’t get used to it bitch.”

Phil held back a laugh, maintaining his kind smile.

As funny as immature humour was, laughing at it would probably be unprofessional.

“Sit down, would you like some water?”

Innit complied, slumping onto the couch, and proceeded to stare Phil dead in the eye with a judging look. He waved his hand at his face, pointedly maintaining eye contact. 

“Really?”

Phil coughed awkwardly. Fuck, he had forgotten about the mask. How did he manage to forget about it? It was obnoxiously noticeable. 

“..Just asking out of politeness mate.”

Innit seemed to accept the answer with a roll of his eyes, instead opting to observe the place quietly.

Phil sat down across from him, basking in the likely short lived silence. 

Another ding rang through the house, causing Innit to jump in his seat. Phil narrowed his eyes at the blond before shaking his head and going to open the door. 

Not his problem. 

When he opened the door, he had expected to see Soot, shrouded in black and mystery or The Blade, red eyes searching his soul through the pig mask. Instead, he found something completely different. 

At his door was a sharp faced, blue eyed man with dark brown hair that reached his shoulders and hung over his forehead in bangs and pink lips twisted into a kind smile. 

“Hi! I figure you won’t recognize me, but it’s your old pal from a couple of days ago!” The man was… Soot? Well, it was easy to understand how the man was so good at what he did after seeing this guy. Soot’s voice was entirely different, now high pitched and cheerful, a polar opposite to his voice just 2 days ago. 

Damn, color Phil impressed.

“Soot?” At that, the man hissed, kind smile dropping instantly

“Keep your voice down, you idiot. Someone might hear.” 

“Mate, I live a good couple miles away from the nearest town. No one’s going to hear.”

Soot went back to his cheery mask, this time with a cold glare in his eyes.

“You can never be too careful. Call me Will. William Gold, if anyone happens to ask.”

Phil hid his absolute hatred for this little shit under his own smile. 

“Alright Wil, come on in.” As the words were uttered, there was a scream from inside the house. 

“Oh my god, why are there crows here?!” Wincing a little at the noise, Phil let his smile fade a bit.

“...That would be one of our teammates, Innit.” 

Soot, sorry, Will raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk showing on his face as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

Phil turned to find the monstrosity of a thief in his house, seeing him standing in front of the kitchen, just staring at his crows, who were staring right back. 

“Those are my pets, they won’t hurt you.” He reassured, hoping his amusement wasn't too obvious.

“You have crows for pets?” Wil interjected curiously. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool. You can pet them if you want.”

At that, Innit ran at the birds excitedly, making them scatter at the sudden movement.

The boy sat down next to the closest crow and began trying to coax it into coming near him, failing spectacularly.

Phil chuckled a little as he watched the lanky boy try and pet his crows. 

He picked up a bag of birdseed and handed it to Innit, who looked up at him with wide eyes. Phil smiled at him, this time genuinely. 

“If you hold some out, they’ll come near you.” Innit immediately poured some into his hand, sticking it out in anticipation.

“Angel, did you hire a child?” Wil asked, a teasing undertone to his voice. 

Phil snorted, going to reply before he was interrupted.

"I am NOT a fucking child! Who are you anyways, huh?! I bet I'm better than you. No, I KNOW I'm better than you, dickhead!" Innit seethed, glaring at Wilbur fiercely.

After Innit was finished, Phil spoke. 

“First of all, call me Phil. And second of all, according to him, he’s not a minor. He could just lie.” Phil shrugged. “But I believe him”

Wil seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. 

“For your information, child-”

“GET THE IDEA, I’M NOT A CHILD.-”

“You’re awfully defensive about that for someone who’s not a child. But, anyways, I’m Soot. Your teammate.” Wil flashed a shit eating grin at Innit. 

“Call me Wil.”

Innit paused his finally successful bird-petting to groan, flipping Wil off.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with you for weeks. I hate you already. Gods, aren’t you supposed to be charismatic or something?” 

Phil wanted to scream in agreement, but he just held his tongue and laughed.

His courtesy felt like it was killing him from the inside out.

Wil laughed with him. “I could say the same for you, you little gremlin.” 

“Oh my god, you’re such a bitc-” The bickering was interrupted by another ding.

Oh boy was Phil looking forward to this. He opened the door with sheer relief written all over his face, only for Techno to immediately start apologizing. 

He looked disoriented and distracted, with messy hair and a frazzled look in his eyes.

“Phil I’m so sorry I’m late, I got caught up with some things with my roommate and I-” 

As the door opened fully, Techno seemed to catch sight of the men in the background, and he went silent, before beginning to ramble. 

“Oh I hope they didn’t hear me, I’m so sorry, I probably shouldn’t have told ‘em your real name, Angel.”

Phil just placed a hand on Techno’s shoulder and smiled softly, attempting to calm the other's building anxiety. 

“It’s alright mate, they already knew.” Surprise flashed on Techno’s face briefly before the bored expression set in again.

“And you don’t have to worry about being late at all. Now, come on in.”

Upon Techno’s entrance into the house, he was met with a very fake, very calculating smile from one man and extremely loud screaming from the other. 

(Can you guess which one was which?

Yep. You’re right.)

Wil offered Techno the politest greeting he’d offered anyone else up til that point, just smiling in his direction with the simple words. 

“Hey. Blade right? I’m Soot. Call me Wil.”

Techno nodded back at him, and then the screaming began.

"It's actually the blade!" Innit screamed excitedly, looking briefly disappointed when the crow he was petting flew away because of the noise.

"Blade, I am a giant fan!" He continued, undeterred, and got up from his place on the kitchen floor. "You're just so incredibly amazing and poggers and cool and strong and-" The blond took a breath, stopping his increasingly loud rambling. 

He bounced up to Techno with wide, sparkly eyes and loudly asked, "Can I have an autograph?" 

Techno, the poor, unprepared soul, just stared at Tommy with what Phil called the "what-the-fuck" expression.

Phil, taking pity on his friend, decided to suppress his chuckles and answer the unspoken question 

“Blade, this is Innit. He’s… a bit loud. And a fan of yours.” 

“...I have fans?” Techno asked, perplexed by the very concept of a mass murderer having fans.

Which, to be fair, was a valid thing to be confused by. 

(the fact that this is actually A Thing in real life weirds me the fuck out)

Innit nodded vigorously, golden curls bouncing on his head.

“Yep, and I’m your number one fan. Me and my friends love your work. Especially what you did to Dream!”

At the mention of the mob boss, Techno stiffened minutely, the action so small that Phil barely caught it.

“How’d you know about that.” 

Innit's eyes widened and creased due to what Phil assumed was a smile. “Ways. Now, the autograph please?”

Techno sighed, pressing a hand over his temples. “Alright, give me paper and a pen.” 

Innit pulled exactly that out of his pocket, as if he had been prepared for this moment. Which, knowing Innit, he probably had been.

Techno just blinked at it for a moment, ultimately deciding to go with it. With a resigned sigh, he signed the paper and shoved it back to the thief, who whooped in happiness. 

As much as Phil loved the bickering- (That was a lie. He just wanted to get the heist done) - they were here for a reason.

“So, now that everyone’s here, let’s sit down and talk, yeah?” He said politely, hoping to end the chaos right then and there.

All three of the others nodded, becoming more serious as they settled into the couch.

“Alright, so you all know we’re here for a reason. The first thing that needs to be done is Will getting a job. Will, have you gotten the identification you’ll need?” 

Will nodded.

“Alright, then we’ll kill a guard so there’s an opening. Will, you’ll apply for the job. I’ll take care of the guard by the next meeting. Until then, you’ll spar with Blade so we can determine your skill level, and we can discuss strengths and weaknesses. The general plan is for Will to get the schematics, and information on how to get to the safe and enter it. Then, we’ll figure out a path to get there without being spotted and break in, hopefully with no casualties. Guards are pretty hard to replace, and leaving Pandora’s unguarded just seems like it’d be a bad idea. Is that okay with all of you?” 

Nods came from everyone in the room, making Phil smile.

“Great. Then, let’s begin the training.”

Phil's smile widened as excitement flooded his body, a welcome change to the usual numb fatigue.

This would be fun. 

An exhausting two hours later, Phil was panting in the backyard, adrenaline just starting to wear off and bruises beginning to ache. He hadn’t had that much fun in ages.  

After the first few rounds, the training had just derailed into Techno and Phil practicing their hand-to-hand combat as Will and Innit bickered about something dumb in the background.

It had been exhilarating.

Phil idly sipped at his water, itching to just take off the eye mask and have a long, relaxing bath. 

He couldn’t imagine how Innit felt, with his giant heavy metal mask. Probably not good.

Phil interrupted their bickering- something about whether salmon was better than cod or not- with a cough. 

“How about I’ll get out some food, we can all have bit to eat and drink, and then you can head home, yeah?”

Wil nodded absent-mindedly, muttering out a "sounds good," but Innit just stared at Phil as if he had grown a third head.

Phil tilted his head curiously, a habit he had picked up from his crows. 

“Innit? You alright?”

“Uh.. yeah um, that sounds… good. But how am I supposed to eat with, um, with the mask?” Innit sounded hesitant, stumbling over his words almost as if he were scared. Phil blinked.

Jesus, what the fuck. 

“Oh, well, I have guest rooms that lock. You can just take some food there and eat alone, if you’d like.” Innit just stared some more. Phil took it as an agreement and walked over to the kitchen to get out the rest of the treats he had gotten from Niki’s Bakery a while ago. 

For the first time in over a year, his house didn't feel cold.

Chapter Text

The door squeaked on it’s hinges as Tommy burst into the dingy apartment, unfastening and throwing off his mask immediately.

“TUBBO! I’M BACK!”

“Keep your voice down, you dick, we’ll get noise complaints again.” Tubbo replied, not even looking up from where he was sitting on the couch, engrossed in his laptop.

Tommy set his eye mask down next to the voice modulator, turning to his best friend with a huge grin. 

“You will not believe the day I’ve had Tubso, it was awesome .” Tubbo just hummed, continuing his typing, and Tommy brightened. 

“OH! I have something for you!”

At that, Tubbo looked up curiously, brown eyes looking Tommy over for a clue. “What is it?”

Tommy reached into his pockets and pulled out still-soft golden pieces of bread. “Honey buns for the bee boy himself!” 

Tubbo gasped, getting up and snatching the treats from Tommy’s hands, observing them with unconcealed joy.

“Tommy, where did you get these? You know you can’t spend money on treats right? We need to afford rent!” 

Tommy patted Tubbo’s head, ignoring the slap on the wrist from the shorter boy. “Chill Tubs, I got it from Phil’s!”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Phil’s?”

“Yeah big man, the Angel of death, Phil! He gave us some stuff to eat before leaving, and he even let me eat in a locked room, so I brought some stuff back for you!” 

Tubbo facepalmed. “Tommy, you can’t just accept food from a literal assassin! That’s so careless! What if it was poisoned?”

Tommy shook his head with a snort, finding the idea of Phil poisoning him absolutely ridiculous. 

“C’mon Tubbo, why would he poison me before the heist is done? That would be pretty dumb. And you know that the Angel of death is not dumb. He is the smartest, most poggers man alive. Except maybe The Blade.  You should know this Tubbo. Plus, ” Tommy added, seeing Tubbo’s unimpressed face, “He let me pick what I wanted to have from the same boxes as everyone else. He wouldn’t have poisoned something he was going to eat.” 

At that, Tubbo seemed to relax a bit. “Alright Tommy. I still think it’s a bit weird, but whatever. If they’re giving us free food, who are we to decline?”

Tommy barked out a laugh. 

“That’s the spirit Tubbo!”

The brunette slumped back onto the couch, now biting into a honey bun.

“So” He said, mouth half full, “How’d the meeting go?”

Tommy’s grin grew as he walked into the kitchen to drink some water. 

“It was so poggers Tubbo, I met The Blade! He was so cool! He had these really cool red eyes, just like boob boy said, and he looked so intimidating and coolI! OH! And you won’t believe it, but I got his autograph. ” Tommy started to dig around his pockets, pulling out the piece of paper and unfolding it proudly. 

“I even sparred with him and it was very close okay, he definitely didn’t knock me onto my ass in seconds-”

“Sure bossman”

“Shut up tubbo. But then I got to watch him and Phil spar and it was so cool! They were going so quick! It was amazing Tubbo! Even though bitchboy Soot ruined it with all his wrong opinions.” 

Tubbo laughed at his starry eyed best friend, expression softening into fondness.

“Sounds awesome Tommy.”

“It was!” Tommy cheered. 

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but you have another job.”

“But Tubbboooo I still have bruises from the last one. Plus I'll have to wear the mask again. It's so heavy and hot.” Tommy whined, wrinkling his nose as he thought about putting on his voice modulator.

Tubbo gave him a glare. “Well, unfortunately, you can’t keep your mouth shut for more than 5 minutes, so you have to.” 

Tommy glanced away with a huff.

“Fine. What is it? How much is the pay?”

Tubbo picked up his laptop and set it down on the kitchen table, opening a document as Tommy drank his glass of water. 

“It’s just some regular ol’ corporate stealing. Apparently, the owner of Manifold co. has a safe with a bunch of valuables in it. It isn’t mentioned what the valuables are, except that there’s glasses with tinted lenses that you have to get. Along with that, grab everything else you can get and run. They’re provided a picture of the glasses and schematics of the building.” 

Tommy hummed thoughtfully. “How much are they offering?”

“2k for the glasses and upto 5k depending on the worth of everything else you pick up.”

Tommy whistled, setting down his now empty glass. “2k for a pair of glasses? Holy crap, they must be some type of new tech.”

Tubbo shrugged. “I guess. So, you taking it?”

“What’s the deadline?”

“A week from today.”

Tommy gave a small nod after thinking it over. “Yeah alright. We gotta earn until I can pull off the heist for Phil.”

The blond grinned excitedly at his own words. “Tubbo, we’re going to be rich after that! We can move out and everything!” 

Tubbo returned his smile, albeit more subdued. “Yeah, I guess we can. I’ll start searching for apartments.”

Tommy whooped and Tubbo chuckled, pushing the laptop towards him. “Here, it’s an e-contract. Sign it.” 

Tommy used the touchpad to draw out a messy signature, and Tubbo grabbed the laptop back, starting to type. After a bit, Tubbo smiled.

“Alright, it’s done. Give me like 3-4 days and I’ll have everything ready for you. Sound good?” 

Tommy gave his best friend a grateful smile. “Yeah. Thanks, bee boy.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “That’s such a stupid nickname.”

Chapter Text

The next few meetings went similarly, light banter starting off the day, followed by training and then some treats.

It was only the fifth time they had gathered together, but they had already fallen into somewhat of a routine. 

Phil had taken to making treats for everyone before the meetings, using the new visitors to his home to brush up on his baking skills. That day, he'd decided to make chocolate chip cookies. If he was honest, the meetings gave him something to look forward to , a break from dull, repetitive days. 

Techno would spar with either Wil or Innit, pointing out their flaws and criticizing their combat, and Phil would chat with the other person idly. 

When Techno was training Wil, Phil would sit with Innit as the thief rambled to his crows, or tell him stories. Innit always seemed enthralled whenever Phil told a story about an assassination. 

Honestly, It was pretty endearing. When Techno was training Innit, Phil would bicker with Wil, their arguments always dissolving into laughter. Soot really wasn’t as bad as Phil had first thought. Chaotic as fuck, sure, but not bad.

And then, when both Wil and Innit had done their fighting, Phil and Techno would spar. 

It was thrilling, to let loose and channel his frustrations into his fighting, especially when he was against an evenly matched opponent. For someone who was 8 years younger than Phil, Techno fought amazingly well against him. 

Phil was pretty sure that if Techno wasn’t already tired from training the other two, he would’ve won more than once by now. 

Phil grinned, closing the lid of the cookie filled jar on his kitchen counter and going upstairs to get his mask. It was almost 3 pm.

A couple minutes later, his doorbell rang. Phil happily walked over to the door, opening it to a smiling Wil and an indifferent Techno. 

“Hi Phil!” Wil chirped cheerfully. Maybe it was just Phil’s imagination, but the cheer in Wil’s tone seemed more genuine than it had the first time Phil had heard it. 

“Hi guys! Come on in, let’s chill for a bit until Innit arrives.” The two men entered, and as Phil was losing the door, He saw a figure in red approaching. Looks like they wouldn’t be having too much of the light banter phase today. 

Instead of closing the door, Phil just kept it open, waiting for Innit to come closer. And he did, nervously glancing around everywhere but right in front of him until he was barely a couple metres away from the house. 

Phil cleared his throat loudly, amusement clear on his face as Innit jumped a little and saw Phil in the doorway. Innit scratched the back of neck sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Come on in mate, what are you waiting for?” Innit walked in, shoulders relaxing a bit as Phil closed the door behind him.

“Helloooo bitches” he called when he saw Wil and Techno on the couch. 

Wil rolled his eyes, already used to Innit’s antics.

“Hi gremlin child.”

"For the last fucking time," Innit whined loudly, "I am NOT a child!"

“Okay, kid.” Techno interjected with a dry tone. 

“Blade I can’t believe  you would betray me like this. You were supposed to be on my side.” Innit grumbled, taking his seat on the couch.

“You thought I was on your side? Pfff, what a nerd. The Blade has no allies.” 

“Blaaaadeee that’s so incredibly not-poggers of you.”

Wilbur threw his hands in the air. “There you fucking go again with your weird made up words. What the fuck is a poggers?”

Innit rolled his eyes. 

“They are not weird or made-up, Wil, you’re simply uncultured .”

“Oh come on, no one knows what your words mean. Blade, back me up.”

Techno looked Wil in the eyes, deadpan expression not changing at all. 

“I don’t know Wil, I kinda agree with Innit. Maybe you’re just dumb.”

Wilbur sputtered, looking at Techno with an expression of betrayal. “What the fuck, didn’t you just say you weren’t on his side?” 

Still looking Wil in the eyes, Techno shrugged. “All warfare is based on deception.”

Tommy began laughing hysterically at that, wheezing out a “Take that you prick.” between laughs as Wil’s betrayed expression turned to one of annoyance.

“You’re both the worst, Phil’s the only good one here.” 

Phil paused in his chuckling, deciding to get some revenge for the first few days of Wil being a fucking menace. “Nah mate, I think Innit and Blade are right. I understand it perfectly. You’re just uncultured .” 

Wilbur threw his head back onto the couch with a groan and Innit’s cackles grew louder and Techno started chuckling. “This is bullying. I’m being harassed. You guys are harassing me.” 

Eventually, the laughter in the room quieted, and they shared a comfortable silence as everyone caught their breath. The silence was broken by Wil after a few moments, seeming much more serious than he had been a few minutes ago.

“Well, I figure I should mention this pretty early, but I figured out where we can get schematics for Pandora.” At that, the mood of the room completely changed from relaxed to high strung and tense. 

Phil held his breath, eyes shining in excitement. “Where Wil, do tell.” He struggled to keep his voice calm, but managed. Kind of.

Wil took a breath, the pitch of his tone reducing a bit. 

“Apparently, the Warden actually built the prison and the vault all by himself. He’s the only one who owns the blueprints. The guard I spoke to told me Sam probably keeps them in his house or his office. I could try to speak to Sam, but it’ll probably be difficult. The guards I’ve spoken to have only spoken to him once or twice. I think the best course of action is probably to get information on him, because we need his address. I can probably get him to trust me if you give me enough time.” 

Phil hummed, considering the information. “Alright, that sounds good. Think you can figure out what time he comes to Pandora and when he leaves?”

Wil nodded. 

“Okay, once you do that, one of us will follow him home, get his address, and then we can plan to get the blueprints from there.” Everyone in the room muttered out their consent, and Phil smiled.

“Great! I’ll just go get something real quick.” 

Phil walked to his room, unlocking it and picking up his laptop before heading down again. When he plopped down on the sofa, an awkward silence still hung over the room. “Well, I’m just going to see if I can find something on Sam. You guys can start training, if you’d like.” 

Techno groaned at that, stretching his arms. “Honestly, I'm not really feelin' it today. I’m thinkin’ we just chill.”

Phil flashed Techno a reassuring smile. “Sure mate, if you want, you can turn on a movie or grab a book from the shelves.” 

As Phil waited for his laptop to turn on, Techno wandered over to the shelves and looked through Phil’s books.

“Hey Phil.” Wil started, interrupting the silence, “Where are you even planning to find information on Sam? I’ve already looked through the internet and a bunch of the sites on the dark web. There’s nothing useful.”

Phil began typing in his password, not looking up from his computer. 

“It’s Schlatt’s information system. He was the only one who had access to it until I k-... until he died.”

Wil laughed loudly as he caught Phil's mistake. “Phil, did you kill Schlatt?” He asked, amusement coloring his high pitched voice. 

“...No” Faced with a disbelieving look from Wil and a “Sure, big man” from Innit, Phil chuckled sheepishly.

“Okay, maybe a little.”

Laughter erupted from everyone in the room, Phil joining in. 

“Good riddance.” Techno said. “Never liked the guy.”

Wil snorted, voicing his agreement. “I know right! You know, this one time he tried to get me to place bombs all over L’manberg and then set them off.” 

Innit paused his laughing to look at Wil wide-eyed. “No fucking way.”

Wil nodded enthusiastically, his voice becoming captivating, as it often did when he told stories. 

“He did! Thought that if people were scared and dying, he could have his lackeys play hero and gain the people’s trust. Wanted to take over the entire city! Right asshole, he was.” Innit nodded in agreement. 

“Sounds like a pussy. Phil, this is why you are the only man ever. You are doing God’s work.”

Phil laughed, turning his attention back from the conversation to his laptop, beginning his search as Techno came back to the couch with a book about Greek mythology in hand. 

Techno sat back down next to Innit, starting to read as Innit shuffled closer and started reading with him. Wil pulled out his phone and started scrolling. “What’s that word mean?” Innit said, pointing to the page. “Mortality? It’s a synonym for humanness.” 

Innit nodded, pausing again after a couple seconds, sounding embarrassed this time. “How do you pronounce that name?”

“It’s pronounced Poseidon.” Techno’s monotone voice didn’t waver even a little bit as he answered all of Innit’s questions until Innit finally reached the end of the page. 

When he did, Techno’s voice became oddly gentle. “Innit, do you know how to read properly?” 

Innit looked away angrily with a scoff. “Of course I do, you prick.”

“Innit, it’s okay if you don’t. I didn’t know how to read properly until I was 19.”

Memories of teaching Techno the meanings of different words, how to use grammar, how to pronounce difficult words, flooded Phil’s mind. 

Fondly, he recalled checking in on the then 18 year old to find him obsessively reading through a book, sticking post its to the sides and making tons of notes in his scrawly handwriting. 

Phil looked at the pair on the couch, temporarily ignoring his laptop in favor of paying attention to the conversation. Innit’s anger seemed to recede as he hesitantly spoke again. 

“... I can read, bitch. Just not very well.” Techno tried for a soft smile, which only really seemed out of place and awkward on his usually stoic face, but it was the sentiment that mattered.

“I can teach you, if you want.” 

He muttered awkwardly. Innit was staring at Techno now, and Phil swore he saw tears pool in Innit’s eyes.

“Uh, yeah. I would, uh, like that.” The blond blinked several times and Phil saw him discreetly pinch his hand, as if to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Awwwwwww. 

Techno just nodded, and let the smile slip off, returning to his usual expression. The next few hours were filled with Techno’s quiet voice, guiding Innit through the book, with uncertain questions from the younger boy that started to get less hesitant as each one was answered without any annoyance. 

Their reading was only interrupted by casual remarks and quips from Wil, who even avoided teasing Tommy about his reading. Phil had stopped searching after about an hour, then working on compiling the shreds of information he had found into a document and just relaxing on his phone afterwards. 

Eventually, the sun started to set and the sky grew darker, so Phil brought out his cookies for everyone to eat, Innit having his in the same room as he had been for the past few days.

The peaceful day came to a peaceful end, all of them going their separate ways as the sun started to set, goodbyes sweet with the knowledge that they would see each other again soon.

Chapter Text

The meetings continued like normal, with reading sessions for an hour everyday and light conversation filling up the time that used to be filled with training. Tommy honestly felt like he was getting a bit too comfortable, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. 

The meetings gave him a sense of comfort, of happiness. It was fun!

Two meetings after the beginning of the reading lessons, Wil told everyone the rough timings of Sam’s arrival and departure from Pandora’s. The meeting after that, Phil had an address, Sam’s exact shift timings, his sleep schedule and pictures of his security cameras. Phil was fucking scary . 

Tommy was very glad he was on his side. Right now, Phil was briefing them on his rough plan. 

“So, Sam sleeps at around 2:30 am and wakes up at 8:30 yeah? His house is around 45 minutes away from here, and he drank milk before bed. I’m going to go watch him again today, see if he does the same thing. If he does, we break in and add sedatives to the milk while he’s not at his house, and then get out. Blade can tail him and make sure we know Sam’s location at all times. We’ll wait an hour or two, till around 4 or 5 am, then Innit can sneak in through the window of the extra bedroom and I’ll get into Sam’s. Plan is, I hold a napkin over his face so that if he happens to wake up, he won’t see who broke in and I’ll be able to suffocate him before any real damage is done. Innit searches the rest of the house first, then I unlock Sam’s room and let him in. If we don’t find the blueprints within an hour we get out.” 

Phil takes a sip of tea, his eyes calculating and much colder than Tommy had ever seen them. 

“We’ll need to hire a hacker to disable the security system. You guys know anyone trustworthy? It has to be someone who would not, under any circumstances, reveal anything about the mission to other people.” Tommy grinned underneath his mask at the same time as Wil. 

“I know a guy.” they both said in unison, looking at each other in surprise. Wil waved his hand at Tommy. “You can go first.” Tommy nodded. “My roommate is really good at hacking. He knows lots of secrets and hasn’t given them out. I trust him with my life. He’s disabled tons of security systems for me during jobs.” 

Phil hummed, turning to Wil. “Well, the guy I know is just a friend I helped out a while ago. He’s really good, helps me with faking information and getting past firewalls all the time.” 

After pausing for a bit, letting the silence hover over them, Phil finally speaks again. “Alright, Innit, get me in touch with your roommate as soon as possible please.” Tommy nodded, excited. “Of course, big man!” Tubbo was going to love this!

---

“YOU DID WHAT?” Tubbo screamed, an exasperated look on his face. “I told them my roommate was a hacker that would help us with the mission that I trusted. I don’t get what’s so wrong about that.” 

Tubbo sighed. “Tommy, you don’t give criminals information about your personal connections. I thought that was common sense. I can’t let them know anything about my identity, that would make it easy for them to figure out who we really are!” 

“Tubbo they might be criminals but they’re trustworthy! Please, believe me. They won’t try to use it against us.” Tubbo’s voice went quiet as he turned on his phone. 

“Alright Tommy. I trust you. Don’t make me regret it. I’m still not going to meet up with them though. Tell them that if they want to do business we have to do it all online.” Tommy whooped. “THANKS TUBBO!

---

5 days later, the plan was set in motion. The last thing Tommy expected to be doing at 2 am on a Monday was placing  dissolved sedatives in the warden of Pandora’s vault’s milk. 

But, here he was, with the Angel of Death waiting for him in a tree, pouring a gray-ish substance into milk so he could steal from one of the most powerful men in the city. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. 

But he was a big man! He could handle a bit of pressure. After doing his job, Tommy slipped back out the window and found his way to Phil, sighing in relief as he slumped against the base of the tree. 

“Done” he whispered. Phil nodded in the dark, cardigan swishing around his thighs as he climbed down and settled next to Tommy. “Blade says he’s still walking home. Should be there in about 5 more minutes.” Phil reached into his pocket, handing Tommy a key with a little crow keychain. 

“Get back to the car and make sure no one sees you. I’ll be there once Sam falls asleep.” 

A good 45 minutes of anxious leg bouncing and constant paranoia, Phil finally came into view, tapping lightly on the window with a smile. Tommy opened the car door, shoving the relief that came with seeing Phil safe deep, deep down. 

He had not been going through several scenarios where Phil died a very painful death. Pfffff, as if he even cared. He did not care one bit . 

“Never thought I’d been doing a stakeout with the Angel of Death.” Tommy commented dryly, feeling a sliver of pride as Phil laughed at his comment. He would never admit it, but he loved making people laugh. And Phil always laughed at his jokes. 

His laughs didn’t even sound fake! “Never thought I’d be stealing from the warden of Pandora’s vault.” Phil says in response. At that, Tommy’s eyes start to gleam curiously. 

“By the way, you never did tell me what it was you wanted from the vault.” Phil seemed to freeze, like a deer in headlights, and Tommy’s eyes widened a bit. “No no no it’s okay, I’m sorry if I upset you, I’m so sorry, you don’t have to say anything.” 

The words spilled out of Tommy’s mouth faster than he could stop them and his brain was filled with Dream, snarling and punching and cursing at him for being a nosy brat and- a gloved hand was sitting on top of his own, the warmth seeping through the cloth and into his skin. 

He looked up at Phil, who was smiling gently at him. “It’s alright, Innit, I don’t mind.” Phil paused, took a deep breath and smiled again, as if pushing down his feelings. 

Tommy knew because he did that too often for his own liking. “The vault has something that I want. Something left behind by… someone I loved.” The smile on Phil’s face had turned sad, his soft blue eyes emanating pain. And oh . At that moment, Tommy understood. 

He understood, because he knew all too well the feeling of staring at a gravestone and feeling like the world had ripped everything from him, the feeling of knowing that someone was gone and they wouldn’t ever come back. He knew. 

“I’m sorry” He muttered. Phil lifted his hand from on top of Tommy’s, and Tommy found himself yearning for the slight, heavy warmth to come back. 

“Not your fault mate. S’alright. I’ve come to terms with it, mostly.” A few moments of silence passed, tense but not at the same time. Tommy used it to gather his thoughts, and composed himself. Then, he grinned. “I can’t believe I just made the warden of the world’s best prison take drugs.” And just like that, Phil was laughing, and the odd silence was gone. 

A few hours of idle chatter later, Tommy found himself sneaking through the window of Sam’s storage room for the second time that day. This time, however, he had to do more than pour sleep solution in milk. 

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Tommy began to look around. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't search everything. He only had an hour or two, tops. Tommy’s mind whirred. 

If he was Sam, where would he put something very valuable? His eyes landed on a bit of dark material behind cardboard boxes with paper labels. Silently, Tommy moved the boxes around, making sure to note their positions before carefully pushing them out of the way. 

He uncovered the thing, finding a small, navy blue (he thought it was navy blue. It was hard to tell with night vision glasses,) chest with intricate designs, and a big, silver lock on the opening. 

Oh, this had to have something . The lock, despite its size, looked pretty simple. Simple enough, that is, for Tommy to pick. Surely enough, the lock opened with a soft click after only a few moments of fiddling with his lock pick. He slowly looked through the chest. Letters, pictures, jewelry… there was nothing useful there. 

As Tommy went to place the items back, a piece of blue paper caught his eye. Could that be what he thought it was? 

Eagerly, he snatched the folded paper out and began unfolding it, but all he found was a list of random words and numbers with media sites written next to each one. 

Wait a minute. Tommy squinted, rereading the words. Surely not! Sam wouldn’t be stupid enough to list all of his passwords on the same piece of paper right? Tommy wanted to laugh. 

He was 99% sure they were passwords. Opening his phone and typing in his own password, Tommy switched to his camera, making sure all his sounds were off before taking pictures of the page and pocketing the thing again, making sure it was secure. 

It was a gift, after all. Probably an expensive one. (Phil had given Tommy the phone with his classic, kind smile after seeing his old one. He had said he would need it for the missions. That Tommy deserved a better one. Tommy had almost cried.) 

After inspecting the room a bit more, Tommy moved on to the rest of the house, sneaking through the place with practiced ease. When he reached the kitchen, he replaced the drugged milk with fresh milk from a carton strapped to his shirt under his hoodie, relieved to have the weight lifted. 

Throughout his search, he didn’t find much, and all his findings led nowhere. The black box shoved in the back of the bathroom cabinet just had medicine for weird or dangerous things.(Seeing pills for constipation next to antidepressants was something ). 

The cardboard box in the kitchen just had rat poison and bug spray. The box under the couch had knives made of precious metals. Finally, after half an hour of searching, he was facing the only room he had yet to search. 

The room that held Sam himself, and the room that Phil had been waiting patiently in for the past 30 minutes. Hi . He texted Phil. A second later, a text came back. Hey. 

The door opened slowly, as Phil tried to make sure it didn’t creak. Tommy walked in, and shook his head at the Angel’s inquiring gaze. Guilt and shame burned inside Tommy as he watched Phil’s shoulders droop in disappointment. He really shouldn’t have cared as much as he did. Quickly, he busied himself in searching, extra careful not to make noise as Phil went back to his position, holding a handkerchief over Sam’s eyes. 

At the bottom of Sam’s sock drawer, Tommy found a small box, about twice the size of one of his hands, that had a padlock attached to it. 

Bingo. 

He took the box away from Sam’s room, leaving the door open but moving far enough that any noise from his tinkering wouldn’t reach the room. He observed the box more closely. 

It was black, with a silver lining on the lid. The lock wasn’t one you could open with a key. It had one of those number-turny things that made the lock open when you entered the right code. 

Tommy wanted to groan. How was he supposed to guess what this code was? A thought popped into his head, and he grinned. He turned on his phone, going to look at the list of passwords. Low on the list were two 4 number codes, marked C1 and C2. 

If this worked he was going to buy a lottery ticket. There was no way he’d get that lucky right? But as he entered the last number, the lock slid open with a click. He stared in disbelief. 

And then, he promptly started rummaging through the contents. He almost started cheering because he had found it ! 

Inside the box were various folded papers, which, when opened, revealed various diagrams and blueprints, most likely all for Pandora’s. At the bottom of the box was a red colored card. 

Quickly, he took pictures of all the items in the box, setting them back exactly as they had been previously, and locked the box again. He crept to the room again, and nodded excitedly when Phil tilted his head at him. 

Phil brightened immediately, and Tommy could tell he wanted to cheer just as much as Tommy did. Tommy set the box back in the drawer, making sure that everything looked the exact same as he had found it, and gestured to Phil that they could leave. 

The Angel nodded, and quietly pocketed the handkerchief, slinking out the door. Tommy followed behind him, locking the door before making a beeline for the storage room and getting the fuck out the window. 

A few seconds later, Phil was beside him, barely concealed joy radiating off the man as they made their way back to the car. As soon as both of them were seated, and the doors were closed, Phil reached out, grabbed Tommy by the shoulders and- 

And pulled him into a hug. At first he tensed, holding his breath, and then, when he realized Phil wasn’t going to hurt him, he melted. He circled his arms around Phil’s torso hesitantly, returning the hug. When was the last time he had hugged someone that wasn’t Tubbo or Ranboo? 

Gods, he couldn’t even remember. Phil’s arms wrapped around Tommy’s shoulders, head resting next to his ear. “You did so well today, Innit” he whispered. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m proud of you.” Tommy buried his face into Phil’s shoulder, clutching his cardigan as a few tears leaked out of his eyes. No one had told him that in a long, long time. A wet spot was forming where Tommy’s face was buried in the cloth. 

He hoped Phil wouldn’t mind. “No big deal, big man.” He said, his words muffled by the shirt. It must’ve been uncomfortable, Tommy thought, especially with the voice modulator pressing into Phil’s body. 

Yet, Phil said nothing about it, only holding him tighter. Eventually, Tommy pulled away, wiping at his eyes while avoiding Phil’s. Honestly, he kind of missed the warmth already. 

The engine of the car started up, making a loud purring sound. Phil turned on the radio, and a soft song played from the speaker. The comfortable silence dragged on, and the warmth that filled Tommy’s heart lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

When Tommy woke up again, he was tucked under warm blankets, something slightly heavy sitting around his eyes and a soft, plush mattress underneath him. This wasn’t something he was used to. 

As he looked around, he remembered what had happened. Oh . His cheeks went red in embarrassment. Phil must have carried him upstairs. 

Tommy sat up and observed his surroundings. He recognized the room pretty quickly. It was the one he would always lock himself in to eat. Tommy’s voice modulator sat tauntingly on the nightstand. 

Tommy wanted to put it on, but at the same time he didn’t. The thing was fucking annoying . Whenever he ate, he could always hear people downstairs, talking. 

He could hear Wilbur shouting about one thing or another in meetings, and Phil’s occasional wheezes. 

Yesterday had been the worst by far. He and Techno had both stayed over in preparation for the heist, and they had dinner together. Or, Techno and Phil did.

He had sat in the room upstairs for a good 20 minutes, scarfing down the food. 

It had been delicious, warm food was always great, but the chuckles that he could barely hear and the indignant “Hey!”s thrown around in a conversation he wasn’t a part of turned the entire thing sour. 

He wished he didn’t have to wear the mask. Tommy sighed and rubbed his face. Not the time. (When was the time?) Tommy changed into the hoodie and sweats that lay beside his voice modulator and picked up the toothbrush that had been placed on top of them, heading to the bathroom. 

He threw open the door, tiredness setting in from the previous day, only to be met with the face of the Blade. Yes, the face. Because Blade was standing there, brush in hand, maskless . Oh god . “I’m sorry” he blurted, and hurriedly closed the door. 

Oh fuck, oh shit, was Blade going to kill him? Would he never see Tubbo again? He had to run, oh no, he knew the Blade’s identity now and who knows what could hap- his thoughts were interrupted as something tapped his shoulder. 

He flinched away from it, and he saw Blade, standing there awkwardly. 

He didn’t look like much of a threat right then, with scruffy, messed up hair, wearing pink pyjamas with little pigs on them, but Tommy knew looks could be deceiving.

“Please don’t hurt me” He squeaked out, vaguely aware of the tremor in his voice. Blade just stared, and he looked… concerned? “I’m not goin’ to hurt you kid, it’s fine”, he said softly. 

“Whatever happened, I’m not mad.” Tommy just became more confused. “Bu-but your face” Realization dawned on Blade’s face and he huffed out a little laugh.

 “I wasn’t plannin’ on puttin’ the mask back on. It’s annoyin’. I was goin’ to let you see anyways.” Tommy froze. What? Blade… was going to show him anyways- oh. 

Oh, it was fine. He felt his shaking slow, and he steadied his breathing like Tubbo had taught him. In, 1, 2, 3, 4 Hold 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 Out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 . After a few, tense moments, he calmed down. 

“Oh. Well uh.” Tommy got up, pushing past Blade slightly and nervously put toothpaste on his brush after washing it, then shoving it in his mouth aggressively. 

A bit later, Blade joined him, brushing his teeth next to Tommy with a neutral, stoic expression. As if nothing had happened. Tommy couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful. 

Blade left the room and Tommy splashed his face with water, burying it into the towel as he took a deep breath. (Burying your face into a towel after a cry is free therapy, I tell you.) 

It was okay. He walked over to the stairs, not even stopping by his room to get the voice mod. Blade trusted him, and he wanted to prove he trusted him too. Tommy saw Phil, cutting crusts off of bread, humming lightly, and Blade, who was walking over to the kitchen table. 

With a light smile, Tommy started to walk down the stairs. Blade slumped into a chair, head flopping onto the table with a loud thunk. The next few seconds gave Tommy fucking whiplash. 

Phil whipped around, eyes wide, and fucking threw the knife in his hands to the spot right next to where Blade’s head was resting. Blade looked up at Phil, stared for a few seconds, and just started cackling. 

It wasn’t like any of his chuckles, or his little huffs. It was full on, loud, wheezing cackles. Soon enough, Phil joined in, and Tommy did too. The three of them dissolved into loud, bright laughter for a while before they eventually quieted down. 

“Nice way to say good mornin’, Phil.” Blade snickered. Phil pulled out the knife from the table and pointed it at Blade, ears tinged red. (Phil was maskless too, that morning. The guilt in Tommy’s gut burned, and his own eye mask felt uncomfortably suffocating against his skin.)

“Oh shut up, or next time I won’t miss.” “Mhm, sure old man.” 

---

Tommy’s day was going amazingly. He had stayed the entire day with Phil, gardening and exploring the house and just having fun. He had even gotten to shower with hot water! 

Right now, Tommy stood in Phil's kitchen with Wilbur as Phil pulled out ingredient after ingredient. Blade wasn’t here, he had said he had to get back to his roommate that morning, but he was coming back in an hour or so. 

Phil had mentioned they were going to celebrate the heist. He wondered what that meant. He rarely ever celebrated things anymore. Maybe this was it. 

Phil was teaching them how to bake a cake. It had nothing to do with the job at all, but no one said anything about it. 

Tommy looked at the ingredients excitedly. Wil was baking with him, so it probably wouldn’t turn out too well, but how bad could it be?

Very bad, apparently. Half an hour later, Tommy and Wil stood next to each other with matching annoyed expressions and so much flour on their clothes it looked like they had been white all along. 

Phil was chewing them out, exasperation and amusement coloring his voice. “Why on earth did you decide to stick your hand in the flour in the first place?” Phil asked. 

“Wil told me it would feel like snow.” Tommy whined. “It’s his fault. He’s a dickhead. That’s why I put the flour on his fucken face.” Tommy grinned, feeling Wil’s glare. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” (After seeing Phil maskless, and Tommy without his voice mod, Wil’s voice had changed entirely, becoming lower in pitch and much less cheerful. No one said anything about it, but they all understood. It was a silent “ I trust you too .”) 

“Sounds like a you problem, bitchboy.” “Oh my god, you’re so annoying .” Phil sighed. “Boys.” Both of them went silent, glaring at each other. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you even managed to make any batter at all.” 

Tommy turned his chin up with a humph. “If it wasn’t for this pussy I would’ve done so well.” “Oh please, you’re the one that almost poured the entire bottle of vanilla essence into the batter!” “Yeah and you’re the one who almost mixed in eggshells like a dumbass!” 

“BOYS!” Both of them fell silent again. “Why don’t you get both cleaned up, and we can just forget this ever happened, yeah?” Phil was very scary when he was mad, so both of them just nodded and walked away, muttering profanities at each other. 

Phil sighed, holding his head in his hands. 

He did not sign up for this. 

----

By the time Blade arrived, the cake had already half cooled and was ready to be eaten. When Tommy asked if they were going to frost it, Phil just gave him a pointed glare. 

So that was a no, he guessed. 

Phil brought the cake into the living room, setting it on the table and sitting next to Tommy. He pushed the knife into Tommy’s hand with a smile. 

“Go on, cut it. It wouldn’t be possible to be here without you, anyways.” Tommy really doubted that, but the praise made something inside of him go mushy, so he didn’t complain. He cut the cake, and everyone cheered. 

Even though Techno sounded sarcastic as ever, and Wil insulted him in his cheers, it felt perfect. 

-----

“So you know how I said I wanted to celebrate our first successful heist?” Phil said with a gleam in his eye. “...Yeah.” Blade replied with a quirked eyebrow. “How do you feel about some vandalism?” “HELL YEAH!” Tommy screeched. “You had me at vandalism.” Wil said with a smile. Blade sighed, but a fond smile hovered on his lips. “I’ll be there.”

----

That was how Tommy found himself running through the streets at 1 am, bottles of spray paint hanging from his arms in plastic bags, adrenaline starting to course through his veins. 

Phil and Blade were lagging slightly behind, going at a slower pace, and Wil was right beside him, eyes crinkling at the corners and light brown curls waving in the wind. 

“Ay dickhead wasn’t your hair much darker?” Wil rolled his eyes, his voice muffled underneath the black facemask. “Dude that was a fucking wig, how did you not know that.” Tommy shrugged. 

“I just thought you had shit style.” “Oh shut the fuck up, as if you’re any better in your red and white shirts.” Tommy gasped in offence. “How dare you, my shirts are beautiful! My many girlfriends love them!” As usual, the bickering was interrupted by Phil. 

“Boys, we’re here.” They had stopped in front of an old, abandoned building that was half rubble in the outskirts of the city. In Tommy’s opinion, the walls did not have enough curse words on them.

 With an excited smile, he pulled off his face mask and pulled out a bottle of spray paint, shaking it as everyone else took off their masks too. There is no danger here . The actions spoke louder than words ever could. I trust you, and you can trust me . (for context, they still had eye masks on. Just no facemasks) 

Tommy opened the bottle, and proceeded to draw a dick on the wall. Blade snorted behind him. “Really Innit, you couldn’t have come up with anything else? A dick, of all things?” 

Before Tommy could bite back, Wil cut in. “No, no blade, he has the right idea.” Wil grinned, in the way Tommy had come to associate with utter chaos. “It just needs some… improvements.” 

With that, Wil colored in the balls on the crude drawing, making them bigger and adding hair . Then, he spray painted “Big cok and balls.” in bold lettering right above it. 

Satisfied with his masterpiece, he stepped away with the same grin. Tommy was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, and Blade’s judgemental stare just made it even funnier. 

As Tommy calmed down, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, he caught sight of Phil, who was concentrating completely on whatever it was he was drawing, and he walked closer. 

“Phil?” he asked. “You alright?” Blade and Wil were coming closer too, noticing what was going on. When Phil didn’t respond, Tommy looked at the spray painted drawing. What he found was a big, surprisingly well done drawing on a bird. 

Looking at Phil, now confused out of his mind, Tommy asked what everyone else was probably thinking. “What the fuck is this?” And then, with glazed over eyes and the weirdest, funniest voice Tommy had ever heard Phil speak in, Phil said a single sentence. 

“ My name is nugget, I’m a big fat chicken. ” 

There was a beat of silence. And then, Blade started to cackle again. (Tommy was kind of jealous. He wanted to make Blade cackle like that too.) Wil and Tommy joined in seconds later, and Tommy’s cheeks hurt from how hard he wss smiling. 

Phil sputtered about “what the fuck happened” and “oh my god don’t tell me i did the nugget thing again” and Tommy’s laughter just kept growing. “Blade” Wil gasped out between his wheezes.  “Take a fucking picture of this.” Phil started to sputter even more.

Blade pulled out his phone and took a selfie. It probably looked ridiculous, Tommy thought. 

By the time they were all satisfied with their work and ready to head home, the wall was covered in curse words, threats, random drawings and many, many dicks. 

(Tommy’s personal favorite things on the wall were the original dick, the chicken, the “Contact 84623956023805 to help kill God. Volunteers needed desperately.” that Blade had written and the “I will cut off your dick, make a stew out of it and feed it to my dog. If you don’t have a dick, you are simply pog” that Tommy had written himself. He had gotten a half-cackle from Blade for that one.) 

It was 4 am, his stomach hurt from laughing, and his legs were tired from standing. So of course, he did the logical thing, and told Blade to give him a piggyback ride or say bye bye to his kneecaps. 

Threatening kneecaps was a trick he learned from Tubbo. It worked very, very well, considering he was on the Blade’s back, with Wil arguing with him over some stupid thing or the other. 

A few moments later, the argument ended with intervention from Phil, and a comfortable silence hung over them. Tommy had no idea when, but somewhere along the line, his eyes closed, and sleep took over.

Chapter Text

Techno dumped some spaghetti into the boiling water in front of him, holding his phone with his shoulder. He sighed. “I’m really sorry Phil, but my roommate is kind of struggling. I won’t be able to make it tomorrow.” Phil hummed. 

“That’s alright mate. If you don’t mind, maybe tell me what’s wrong? I could try and help.” Techno hesitated for a moment, chewing his lip nervously, and then decided he really couldn’t do this alone. 

“Well, I got called in by his principal today, and apparently he got in a fight, which is completely unlike him. He refuses to tell me what happened, but I think he’s gettin’ bullied Phil, I don’t know what to do.” Phil paused for a second. “Wait, principal? Bullied? TECHNO, DID YOU ADOPT A CHILD?” 

Then, he gasped, sounding ridiculously excited. “OH MY GOD I’M A GRANDPA?” Techno groaned. “Phil please, you’re only like 16 years older than the kid.” “...so what I’m hearing is that I’m a grandpa.” Techno let a small smile find its way to his face. 

“Legally, sure. But he’s more like a brother to me, honestly.” Phil hummed. “So, when do I get to meet my grandchild?” He asked cheekily. Techno huffed. “I’ll talk to him about it, but don’t expect much. He’s pretty antisocial. Plus, like I said, he’s… struggling.” 

“Right, right. Tech, I know you’re emotionally constipated and all-” “Hey!” “But you should really just talk to him about it. Let him know he can trust you, remind him that you’ll love him no matter what, and make sure he understands that you’re always on his side.” 

After a thoughtful pause, Phil continued. “Don’t pressure him into telling you, and remind him that if someone hurts him, it’s not his fault.” Techno wanted to facepalm. How the hell had he forgotten about that . 

Of course Ranboo probably thought it was his fault after Dream . Even thinking about him made bile rise up in his throat. Gods, Techno felt dumb. “Thanks Phil, I’ll do that. I’ll text you about the whole meeting thing.” Phil hummed again, and Techno heard shuffling on the other side. 

“Alright mate, feel free to come to me if you need anything else.” Techno nodded, even though Phil couldn’t see it. “Sure, grandpa.” Phil groaned. “Yeah okay I practically asked for that one.” 

With a laugh, Techno hung up, bouncing on his toes with newfound positivity. He drained the spaghetti and set it on the dining table next to the sauce. When he reached Ranboo’s door, he knocked quietly. “Ranboo, dinner’s ready.” He called softly. 

That was one of the first things he had learned when he took Ranboo in. Never do anything loudly or harshly, and always keep your voice gentle if Ranboo can’t see you. 

The tall boy was extremely prone to panic attacks, which didn’t exactly come as a surprise, considering his past. Ranboo opened the door, wordlessly slipping out. He looked like he’d been crying. Techno’s fingers started twisting around each other more violently.

The bruise on his jaw stuck out against his pale skin, and long sleeves hid the patches of blue and purple that Techno had seen dotting his arms earlier that day. Techno wanted nothing more than to scoop the kid up and protect him from everything forever. 

Instead, he just followed him to the dining table. Ranboo didn’t even smile when he saw Techno had made his favourite. Ah shit, this was going to be hard. Techno settled into his chair and served both of them, clearing his throat as Ranboo picked at the food. 

“Boo.” He said, hoping it came across as comforting. Judging by the way Ranboo tensed, it did not. “I’m not mad or anythin’ like that okay? But the principal told me you got into a fight, and frankly I think that’s a load of bullshit.” Ranboo cracked a smile. Techno’s leg started bouncing underneath the table.

“I just… If anythin’ is going on, if anyone is hurtin’ you or anythin’ like that, please tell me okay? Remember what we talked about, someone hurtin’ you is never your fault. I just want to help you if you’re going through somethin’. Even if you don’t want to tell me what happened, at least let me know if there’s anythin’ you need. I promise, I won’t question it if you don’t want me to.” 

Techno could see the tears pooling in the corners of Ranboo’s eyes. When Ranboo spoke, his voice was smaller than Techno had heard it in ages. Techno squeezed his hands together.

“Can, can I have a hug?” Techno swore his heart broke. “Of course kid, any time.” He walked towards where the tall teenager was sitting and opened his arms. “C’mere.” 

Hesitantly, Ranboo hugged him, melting into the touch as Techno hugged him back. “It’s goin’ to be alright, kid. I’ve got you.” A wet spot formed on his shoulder,  and anger at whoever had done this to his baby brother simmered in Techno’s gut. God, if only he could beat them up himself. Blood for the blood god, as chat would say. 

As Ranboo’s crying slowed to a stop, he pulled away and sat back down. Techno hopped onto the table next to Ranboo’s food. “Wanna talk about it?” Ranboo fiddled with his fork, as if contemplating it before speaking. 

“Well, um, there’s this group of, uh, kids in the grade above mine and, um, well, they kind of like to taunt me. They uh, they call me a freak because of-” Ranboo swallowed thickly, and Techno didn’t dare interrupt. 

“Because of my eyes and my height and-and sometimes my hair, and they, um, they tell me that I look like a, a, monster, and that I, uh, shouldn’t be alive.” Ranboo’s voice shook, and he took a deep breath. Techno really wanted to murder some kids. He clenched his jaw as Ranboo continued.

“So, um, today, they were there again, and I, um, didn’t want to be late to class, so I told them to, uh, leave me alone, but, they didn’t listen and I started to, um, freak out and then they...” Tears started forming in his eyes again as Ranboo’s grip on his fork tightened. 

“They told me to stop crying or they would give me something to cry about, and it just reminded me so much of him , and I, I started panicking more and-” Ranboo was shaking now, and he took another deep breath. “You can stop if you want, Boo.” 

Ranboo shook his head. “They started to hit me, so I, uh, I panicked more and I think I kinda, uh, lashed out and hit them back, and when the teachers arrived the kids told them that, that I picked the fight, and it was my fault, and-” Techno wiped away the tears on Ranboo’s cheeks, shushing the clearly upset boy. 

“It’s okay Boo, it’s goin’ to be fine. I won’t let them do anythin’ to you again okay? They’re completely wrong, it isn’t your fault at all. Your height is something you can’t control, and your eyes aren’t your fault either. If anythin’, that’s Dream’s fault. But remember, your eyes are just a sign that you’re past what happened, and even if you still have the scars, you’re out of your situation. And I think your hair looks amazing, it suits you very well. You’re not a freak, or a monster. You’re Ranboo, you’re my little brother.” 

Techno gently pried Ranboo’s fingers away from his death grip on the fork and intertwined his hand with the younger boy’s. “And anyone who says otherwise is a giant bitch.” (He really spent way too much time with Innit.) 

Ranboo let out a wet laugh. “Thanks Tech.” Techno slid off the table, giving Ranboo another side hug. 

Before the 16 year old moved in, Techno hadn’t been one for physical affection at all, but seeing the kid light up every time Techno ruffled his hair, and melt into every hug was enough to make Techno change his ways. Phil would probably be surprised if he saw the way Techno acted with Ranboo. 

“Alright, why don’t you give me the bully’s names and I’ll take care of the rest.” 

-----

And that was how Techno found himself sitting across from a random, short teenager in a park. The kid raised his eyebrow. 

“So, care to tell me why you asked me to come here without telling Ranboo? Cuz this seems awfully sus bossman.” Techno sighed. God, Ranboo had weird taste in friends. 

“You’re Tubbo, Ranboo’s best friend right?” Tubbo nodded. “Yeah, James. Or should I call you Mr.Beloved? Do you even use the same last name as Boo? I know you’re not his biological brother.” Techno coughed awkwardly. Right, Ranboo’s friends thought his name was James. 

God this was going to be weird. “James is fine.” “Alright.”

Techno’s feet tapped against the grass lightly as silence fell over them. After another moment, he decided to just get on with it.

“Right, well, I’ll get to the point. There’s some kids bullying Ranboo. As much as I’d love to beat them up myself, that would probably land me in jail.” Techno really didn’t give a shit, since he could probably pay off the police anyways, but it would go on James's track record. And that meant Ranboo could be taken from his custody. On top of that, he had promised Ranboo he wouldn’t murder them, so he didn’t really have that option either. The kids would definitely snitch immediately if he left them alive. Tubbo hummed. 

“So you want me to beat them up for you?” Techno nodded. “Yeah, if you’re any good at fighting. Don’t go overboard, just make sure they won’t go near Ranboo again. I’ll even pay you and everything.” Tubbo rested his head on his hands, raising both eyebrows. 

“Well, I was going to agree anyways, but I’m not going to turn down free money. How much are you talking?” “How’s a thousand?” Tubbo’s eyes widened. “Holy crap, I didn’t know Ranboo was fucking rich!” 

Techno grinned, baring his teeth. “Surprise.” Tubbo laughed, and Techno pulled out the piece of paper that had the bully’s names, handing it to the short kid. 

After a beat of silence, Tubbo asked, “How come you didn’t just get them suspended or something?” “I tried,” Techno growled. “Those asshole teachers said there was no proof that it wasn’t Ranboo that started the fight. Said the worst they would do is give the kids detention.”

Tubbo snorted. “Sounds like our teachers alright.” “Honestly, I kind of wanna just have Ranboo switch schools, but I know he doesn’t like change.” Tubbo gave Techno a smile. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure to protect him.”

Chapter Text

Wilbur knew that in the world of crime, attachments were deadly. He knew trust wasn’t something he should just give out, and people would do anything to get what they wanted.

But Wilbur was a manipulator himself, and he knew how to read someone perfectly, how to pick up on all the hidden meanings behind their words and all the nonverbal clues that showed their true intentions.

So sitting in Phil’s house, with Innit speaking animatedly in front of him, Blade listening closely as Phil half-worked and half listened, he knew there were no hidden intentions. 

Trust and comfort showed in everything they did, from the masks that were nowhere to be seen to the fondness on their faces that should be impossible to fake.

Wilbur knew how to read someone, and he knew that they could be trusted. However, just because someone could be trusted didn’t mean they should be trusted. Never trust and never get attached was one of the first lessons Wilbur had learned in his time as a criminal. Betrayal was all too common in his life.

He just had intended for this job to be a quick jab at Sam, a way to teach him a lesson Wilbur wouldn’t have been able to teach alone. A way to say fuck you, you're not perfect. Defeat is not beneath you.

He had expected to tolerate his teammates until the heist was done, and then disappear like he always did, uncaring. He had expected to leave, and never return unless it was to cash in on the favor.

And yet, he didn’t want to leave. He found himself trusting his three teammates, even though his brain was screaming at him for it.

He didn’t even know when he had started.

Maybe it was the first time Phil hugged him goodbye, or the time Blade let him wear his cape because he was cold. Maybe it was the first time he ruffled Innit’s hair and the boy leaned into the touch instead of flinching away, or when Phil opened the door, and he didn’t have his mask on, and Innit didn’t have his voice mod. Maybe it was all those things. 

That day, he had let his voice turn normal, had stopped faking it. He didn’t know why, he just did it . Without thinking, without considering any of the consequences, he let the act drop. That night, he hadn’t worn his wig. 

He knew it wasn’t a good idea, letting himself get attached like this, but he really couldn’t help it. 

Not when Innit’s eyes sparkled when Wilbur told a story, and Blade always knew when Wilbur was feeling down, and Phil always greeted him with a kind smile. 

Maybe it was all the little things combined that made Wilbur trust them so, so blindly.

It was the first time he had felt something close to love in a long time.

“So, craziest spirit story?” Innit asked. Wilbur was startled for a second, abruptly snapped out of his reverie, before he grinned. 

“This one time, I met a spirit that looked exactly like me, but desaturated. Called himself “ghostbur” and was ridiculously cheerful. Like, unnervingly happy. The fucker stuck around me for a whole week before just disappearing.”

Blade snorted. “You think that’s crazy?”

“Oh, you have something better Mr. All mighty Blade ?”

Blade wrinkled his nose. “Please just call me Techno.”

3 weeks of knowing him and Wilbur had already gotten Blade’s name. 

God, everyone here was too trusting.

Use it to your advantage, the cruelest part of Wilbur whispered, information like that would sell for quite the pretty penny.

It reminded him, dreadfully, of a soft smile and warm hands. 

Of being held gently as a bright eyed, bushy-tailed kid and being told what was right and what was wrong, by someone who didn't quite understand that either. 

He grinned, clenching his fingers into fists to stop their shaking, and forced himself to focus on the present.

“Techno? Really? What kind of name is Techno ?” Wilbur asked teasingly, eternally grateful that his voice didn't waver. 

He pretended not to see Phil's concerned glance.

“Okay Will-I-Am.”

Wilbur threw a glare at Phil, slightly out of genuine indignance and mostly to distract him. 

“Really Phil? You told them the full name? You knew they were going to make fun of it-”

Phil just shrugged, smiling back at Wilbur with a softness that made him dizzy. “In my defense, it’s funny.”

The words weren't particularly affectionate; the smile not all that wide. But something about it made Wilbur want to run away, or maybe sweep Phil into a hug. 

He hadn't decided yet.

Blade laughed as Wilbur abruptly broke eye contact with Phil, resolving to not think abut it.

“Agreed Phil. Agreed.”

Innit interrupted the banter with a whine, shifting so he was leaning heavily on Techno.

“Technoooo I wanna hear your story!” 

Wilbur fixed his attention on the kid and hoped the awful feeling in his stomach would go away. 

Blade glanced at the boy with amusement dancing in his eyes before clearing his throat dramatically.

“Well, this one time, I assassinated a guy and a gold statue with glowin’ red eyes fell out of his pocket. So, like an idiot, I picked up the statue, and all these voices started speakin’ in my head right?” 

“What the fuck?” Phil interrupted, eyebrows raised. Wilbur internally cheered as his attention turned to Techno.

“Yeah, this happened after I moved out, Phil. Anyways, turns out the statue was of ‘The blood god’ and all the voices were spirits that used to worship the blood god. They call themselves chat for whatever reason.” 

Innit stared at Techno with wide eyes. “So you just have voices in your head constantly? Doesn’t that get annoying?”

Wilbur had to admit, his interest was piqued. It wasn't everyday that the dead actually spoke in a way that made sense. Or decided to reside in someone's head.

“No, they leave if I ask them too and come back when I ask them too.”

Wilbur stared at Techno curiously, subtly uncurling his fists and feeling a bit of relief when they didn't shake.

“Call them, I wanna hear what they think of me!” He demanded, voice light and airy.

Techno rolled his eyes, but sighed indulgently. “Alright.”

“Chat, come watch.” He muttered, wincing after a moment.

For a moment, it seemed almost like his eyes were glowing, before they returned to their regular red.

“Chat please, what do you mean I should stream more? What’s an upload schedule? How on earth can I be late to my own life- ” Techno asked, clearly annoyed at whatever the voices in his head were saying.

It was weird to see someone argue with themselves, to say the least. 

“So?” Wilbur asked impatiently, barely suppressing the urge to curl his hands up again.

“Chat, what do you think of Will here?” Techno asked, huffing out a laugh when the reply presumably came and looking at Wilbur with a smirk.

“Bitch, Pussy, Pretentious, Looks like he would eat sand, Pretty boy, Asshole, Technoso-”

Techno cut himself off abruptly and turned a little red. He cleared his throat. “That’s all.” 

Wilbur raised an eyebrow, about to question it, before Innit interrupted loudly.

“What about me?” He asked loudly, poking at Techno's side.

The older scowled, smacking his hand away before replying anyway. “Child, Child, Child, Small, Loud, Annoying, Child, Prote-” 

Yet again, he cut himself off. 

Wilbur's eyes widened as he realized what chat was probably saying, the awful feeling (fear , his brain supplied, fear of being loved. And wasn't that a stupid thought.) returned with a vengeance.

“Chat, what about Phil?” Techno asked, snickering as he spoke a beat after.

“Looks like a dad, dad, dad, dad, father, papa, weeb.”

Phil glared, crossing his arms with a huff. “I am not that much of a dad! And I am absolutely not a weeb.”

Techno stared at Phil with his usual, stoic face. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

Phil just grumbled in annoyance, breaking the eye contact. 

Curiously, Wilbur looked at Phil, anxiously searching for any signs that Phil had seen his second wave of whatever-the-fuck-he-was-feeling.

“What about you Phil? Tell us your craziest spirit story!” He said, smiling a little as Phil’s eyes lit up.

“Chat, leave.” Techno muttered.

“So you know my crows right?” Phil asked enthusiastically.

Tentatively, Wilbur answered. “..Yeah?” 

“They’re all possessed by spirits of people I’ve killed that forgave me for killing them.”

“What the fuck?!” Innit screeched, jumping out of his seat with wide eyes. “I've been petting dead people?!” 

Wilbur was… surprised. Kind of. He knew those crows were too smart to be regular animals.

“How’d you even know that?”

Phil laughed, a fond look on his face, eyes somewhere faraway. “Well, there’s this particularly powerful spirit, Brian, that can speak to me. He tells me what the other crows are saying. Whispers in my head, like Techno’s chat.” 

Innit stood frozen, jaw hanging open comically. 

He snapped himself out of his stupor.

“Well, do they like me? I bet they like me. They're really dumb if they don't like me.” Innit asked, nervously pretending he wasn't nervous.

Phil’s expression seemed to soften as he looked at Innit, who was fiddling with the end of his sleeve. “Well, Brian’s not here right now, but they definitely like you. They wouldn’t stop talking about you last time he was here.” 

The smile on Innit's face was blinding.

Gods, that boy was too endearing for his own good.

As soon as silence fell again, Innit spoke. He really seemed to hate the quiet, Wilbur had observed. 

“Favorite job?”

Techno’s eyes sparkled as he spoke up. “I have one.”

“Go on, big man.”

“I have this… friend that loves to play pranks and build escape rooms. He’s made me do tons of them before, as a tester. So this one time, someone found out I had a dog named Carl, and they stole him. Then, they said he was at the end of this elaborate escape room-maze thingy. And I decided. ‘Hey that seems dangerous, I don’t wanna do it!’” 

Blade chuckled a bit before continuing. “And I told my friend that I built the maze, made him do it, and got my dog back.” He paused for a second. “Oh yeah, then I killed the guy who took my dog and everyone else involved.” 

After the initial shock- which only really lasted a second- wore off, Wilbur found himself laughing so hard he could barely breathe, finding something ridiculously amusing in the way Techno just added on the fact that he committed mass murder as if it he was talking about eating a sandwich or something.

He could feel tears flow out of his eyes as he gasped for air, the laughter of his friends filling the entire house with noise.

Out of everything, it was a little ironic that that was what made Wilbur cry.

But the awful feeling was gone, and he felt the calmest he'd felt the entire day, and everything seemed okay. Better than okay. Amazing, actually.

Wilbur kind of wanted to stop, freeze time, and live in that moment for the rest of his life. 

“Well” Wilbur commented after he had calmed down, wiping at his eyes and hoping no one had noticed just how much he'd cried.

“This time my story is better than yours!”

“Oh really?” Techno challenged with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well I can’t really pick between two so I’m going to tell both and at least one of them will be better!”

“That’s not fair!” Techno protested.

“We’re criminals, Techno. No one here gives a flying fuck about fairness .” Techno glared, but relented.

“So you remember that one really popular news reporter for XnX News right? (I have no idea if that’s a real news channel. If it is, whoops)”

Phil was the one to answer, voice tinged with confusion. “That Walter dude?”

Innit just stared blankly. “Who?” 

Wilbur chuckled at his lost expression.

“Alright, I’ll explain it. Innit, Walter Krondale was a news reporter that got really popular for being funny, and became so famous he more than doubled XnX News’s viewership. And then, he released tons of proof of corruption in XnX News, and just disappeared.” 

Wilbur smiled proudly. “I was Walter Krondale.”

Techno stared disbelievingly. “No way. Walter Krondale was so much funnier than you.”

Wilbur grinned wider. “Aww Techno, you thought I was funny? Me too. I mean, Walter Krondale was one of my favorite characters. I got so many assholes arrested, it felt so badass. Plus, it was awesome to watch social media freak out when I disappeared. Absolutely hilarious.” 

Phil chuckled in surprise. “Holy crap Wil, that’s awesome!”

Wilbur did not like the praise. He did not care that Phil was proud of him. Nope. Not at all. He is a cool and calculating manipulator who had no attachments. 

(Really? He asked himself, You're going to get all gooey over a compliment?) 

A dopey grin he couldn't quite hold back took over Wilbur’s face, happiness buzzing in his body like alcohol. “Wait till you hear the other one!”

Innit looked at him eagerly. “Please big man, continue.” 

Eyes sparkling with newfound excitement, Wilbur started his next story. “I was posing as a rapper called ‘Tiddy pang’ and I was supposed to get into a record company, become really famous, and then dip to a different record company so the one I was in before would go bankrupt and the other one would become rich. So I did that, yeah? But that’s not the exciting part! When I was in the record company, I met this really sweet girl who played the guitar and sang.” 

“Ooooo Wil’s got a girlfriend!” Innit sang. Wilbur reached over and smacked the back of his head.

“Shut up, it was just platonic. The point is, I loved listening to her play, and she offered to teach me! That’s how I found out I had a thing for the guitar. To this day, we’re still friends! That was probably one of my favorites, just because I met her and learned to play.” 

Innit was looking at him like he was the coolest person in the world, and it made Wilbur unreasonably happy, and unreasonably scared.

He wondered if Innit would look at him the same if he knew everything Wilbur had done. 

“You should bring your guitar here and play for us sometime.” Techno said.

If Wilbur didn’t know better, he’d say the assassin sounded fond. He did know better, and he still thought that. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Wilbur hadn’t read anyone wrong in years.

“Yeah Wil, I’d love to hear it!” Phil said, ever supportive. The smile on Wilbur’s face refused to go away.

---

The next meeting, Wilbur brought his guitar, and played his favorite songs for them, putting everything he had into his voice and his hands. Praise and awe-filled eyes followed each song, so sweet and warm it kind of drove Wilbur crazy.

Wilbur still played until his hands hurt and his string snapped, just to hear the compliments, to see the smiles. So he liked validation. Sue him.

The meeting after that, Phil had his hair in a braid. When Wilbur asked about it, Phil offered to teach him how to braid, and Wilbur gladly took the offer.

They ended up practicing on Techno’s hair after some grumbling from the pink-haired man.

Of course, Innit would never sit anything out, so he joined them. And, well, if their practice turned into a competition to see who could braid better, that was just what brothers friends did.

Two days after that, Wilbur was curled up against Phil, head resting against his shoulder. An Innit-sized empty space sat between Wilbur and Techno, since the boy had just excused himself to go to the bathroom.

They had finished watching Up, after which Wilbur told them he was going to need at least another month to gain Sam’s trust. The man was ridiculously tight lipped, and Wilbur couldn’t help but feel happy that he would get to spend more time with his new friends. Screw the mission.

The past two meetings had made him start to like the affection more and more, his fear of it almost entirely replaced by a burning desire to protect it. 

To keep what he had.

Sure, the only person that had ever loved him had died, but he had gotten stronger since then.

He could protect them this time, if he had to. They could protect themselves. 

(He prayed to every god out there that it was true, that he was not lying to himself.)

“Hey Wil, how do you manipulate people so easily anyways? You make it sound like it’s nothing.” Techno said.

“It’s actually pretty easy,” Wilbur said, a yawn interrupting his sentence.

Going to work after this sounded like hell . 

He was tired, and all he wanted to do was fall asleep right then and there, tucked into Phil’s side like a kid.

“You just have to fake care and trust. Do things like shoot concerned glances as if you don’t know they’re looking when they’re obviously not okay, talk about fake vulnerabilities as if they’re real, seem interested in what they have to say, talk about things that would interest them.” Another yawn slipped from Wil’s mouth. “Depends on the person really, but faking love and trust usually gets most people.” 

Even in his tiredness, Wil noticed the shift in the mood. Phil had gone tense, and Techno looked troubled. Wilbur wrenched himself out of his drowsy state, trying to figure out what happened. Had he said something wrong? Did they think he was a shit person? That couldn’t be it, they were all murderers for fuck’s sake!

Fuck, what if he had ruined it? What if he said something dumb and this was the end?

Wilbur was trying to figure out what to do, but before he could say anything, Techno spoke. “Wil, you aren’t manipulating us, are you?”

The last of Wilbur’s drowsiness faded as he sat up straighter, mind already racing.

What should he do? Maybe approaching it calmly would be a good idea? Just giving them reasons as to why he wasn’t manipulating them? No, that would seem too cold and calculating. 

Maybe he should channel his desperation and go for a raw, emotional speech? That might work. But Phil was a pretty good manipulator too, what if he saw through it? What if they thought it was just a trick?

The tense atmosphere became more and more intense with each passing moment. The silence felt suffocating.

And then, Wilbur figured it out. If he was in an anime, the lightbulb over his head would’ve lit up.

He just had to be honest, didn’t he? They were asking if he was manipulating them, so giving them his honest, entire answer was the best course of action. Thinking too much about it would just make it seem fake and manipulative, which was exactly what Wilbur didn’t want. 

He was not losing the closest thing he had to a family to his own anxiety.

“No. I’m not. At least, consciously I’m not. I spent like a good minute trying to figure out how to best convince you I wasn’t, but then I realized that’d be manipulative too. So, I’m literally just spewing out whatever I think, the moment I think it. I don’t want or need anything from you, and I really, really like spending time with you guys. I’ve been manipulating people for basically my entire life, so I think I kind of do manipulate people without really realizing it, but I mean no harm. Honest. I’m not trying to manipulate you, I’m not going to use you. I promise. Anything you want me to do to prove it, I’ll do it. Please, believe me.”

Wilbur could hear the wobble in his voice, but he didn’t care to hide it. He wasn’t going to hide it now, of all times. He had to make sure he wouldn’t lose this.

He didn’t realize he was shaking until a hand settled on his shoulder. “Mate, it’s okay.” Phil’s voice sounded gentle, and a little relieved. “I believe you.”

Some of the tension released, and he slumped back into the couch.

Techno’s monotone voice sounded from across the room. “Same here, Wil. I believe you. You haven’t given me a reason not to, yet.” Wilbur understood the underlying threat, but he was going to make sure Techno never had to follow through with it.

The relief that washed over him was stronger than he had ever felt, and all the energy seemed to drain out of him as he tucked himself into his previous position.

It took a while for him to fully relax, to really register that it was okay, but eventually, he calmed down.

 Wilbur frowned, breaking the silence that had fallen over the three of them. “Innit’s taking an awfully long time.”

Phil shrugged next to him. “Maybe he’s just taking a shit.”

Techno snorted. “Phil, why are you like this?”

“What, I’m just stating a possibility!”

“Yeah, but you don’t just-” Techno was interrupted by the clearing of a throat. 

Innit walked in front of them, his voice modulator back on his face. Wilbur's eyes immediately locked onto the tremble in his shoulders.

“Something came up.” he mumbled, voice tight and strained. “I gotta go.”

Phil looked confused, but he let the boy go. “Alright mate, let me know if you need any help. I’ll see you day after tomorrow.”

Without another word, Innit was gone.

The silence was uneasy, and Wilbur could see the concern in everyone’s expression. Even Techno looked worried.

“... That was definitely weird, right?” Wilbur asked hesitantly.

Techno nodded in agreement while Phil sighed, shifting a bit. “Hopefully it’s nothing major, mate.”

Then, he offered a small smile. “Maybe he just had a really intense shit.”

“PHIL!”

Chapter Text

Phil had always worn his heart on his sleeve. It probably wasn’t a good thing, considering he was very much tangled in dangerous, dangerous things, but he really couldn’t help it. He was quick to love, and quicker to protect. It was just what he was like, he assumed. It usually ended well for him anyways, so he really didn't mind.

He had immediately wanted to protect the wobbly kneed teenager that stumbled through his window and threatened to kill him. Phil ended up adopting him. 

He had adored the woman that cussed out the random sexist in the Minecraft server they were playing on. Phil ended up proposing to her.

He couldn’t help but bring home the battered stray kitten he found in a dingy alleyway. (Her face when he showed up with a bullet in one arm and a kitten cradled in the other was priceless.) Phil loved that kitten til the day she took her last breath.

He was always a bit mushy, a bit sentimental, and a bit quick to get attached.

So it came as no surprise to Phil when he felt anxiety clawing at his insides as Innit failed to arrive to the meetings day after day. He was always quick to love, after all, and his little team was nothing if not lovable.

It had been a week, and there was radio silence from Innit save for a single text. “ Text me if there’s another job.” There was nothing else, no dumb joke, no profanities, no mention of what he was doing or why he wasn’t coming to the meetings. 

Innit refused to answer calls from any of them, refused to reply to texts, refused to show up for meetings. Phil could see his own growing worry reflected clearly on the faces of his team. He sighed, raking a hand through his already messy hair. The photo frames on his nightstand seemed to stare at him mockingly. 

He really shouldn’t be this worried. It had only been two meetings, after all.

A doorbell rang. Phil rushed downstairs. Logically, he knew it was Wil. Techno wasn’t coming today, something about Ranboo again, so it had to be Wil. Unless , his mind whispered, Unless . He threw open the door, the same, naive hope gleaming in his eyes… and then deflated. 

“Hi Wil.” Wil shot him a sympathetic look. “Hey Phil. Where’s Tech? He’s usually here by now.” Wil was peeking into the house, looking for the pink haired man. “He had something with his roommate. He’s not coming today.” Wil sighed, deflating just like Phil had a moment ago.

Phil moved inside, and Wil followed. 

“So, what do you want to do today?” Wil was obviously trying to lighten the mood, and Phil didn’t really have the heart to let him down.

“I could show you around, if you’d like? I don’t think you’ve seen the rest of the house.” 

Wil grinned, bright and obviously faked. “Sure!”

Phil sighed internally. It was looking like he’d have to be the one to cheer the other up. He walked towards the glass door in the back of the room, throwing the curtains open to let in some sunlight.

“This is my garden.” The glass doors slid open smoothly as Phil stepped outside, taking in a breath of fresh air. Crows sat perched on the treetops, staring down at them. Butterflies and bees flitted around the flowers, wings reflecting the light beautifully. “It’s pretty.” Wil’s voice was hushed, and Phil didn’t need to look behind him to know Wil was staring at the bushes and flowers that dotted the garden. 

Phil pointed to the little gravestone in the corner of the garden with a smile. “That’s a memoir for my first pet, Rosie. She isn’t actually buried here, but I wanted something to remember her.” 

A freshly picked pink flower sat in front of the grave. “Oh”

When Phil felt like the silence had dragged on for a bit too long, he stepped back inside, gesturing for Wil to follow. 

He didn’t miss the younger’s disappointed look.

He opened the door closest to them. “This is the storage room.” The room was lined wall to wall with shelves, holding various things like gauze, random boxes, and weird-looking trinkets. A couple bookshelves sat to one side, and a couch on the other. Several empty IVs were shoved into a corner. 

The door was closed as quickly as it was opened, with Phil having no reason to stay. He waved his hand at the other room on the first floor. “That’s a spare room no one’s ever used.”

He headed up the stairs, going quicker when Wil didn’t respond at all. “Those are the rooms that Techno and Innit stayed in earlier, when we did that mission.” He pointed to the two rooms in the middle and left. 

Phil’s eyes fell on the door of the room to the far right, his very own, which was wide open. The photo frames all over his room were painfully visible. He sucked in a sharp breath as Wil saw the room. “..Is that your room?” Phil nodded. “Can I see it?” 

Phil shot Wil a surprised glance. Wil was nice, sure, but he rarely asked permission for things, especially things as trivial as seeing a room. 

Phil hesitated. 

On one hand, her and all the memories he had with her were something he wanted to keep all for himself, to hoard and protect from everyone else. On the other hand, this was Wil. Wil, who somehow always knew where lines were drawn, Wil who always knew when to push and when to let it go, Wil who Phil trusted . Wil, who Phil really wanted to cheer up. 

Maybe it was time to let things go, just a little bit.

Phil took a deep breath. “Yeah, sure, lemme show you.” 

The short walk over to the room was painfully tense. Or maybe that was just Phil. His shoulders were bunched up high and he was pretty sure he looked constipated, judging from the concerned looks that Wil was shooting him.

“We really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, you know.” “No.” Phil pressed on, steps getting a little louder. “It’s fine.” 

Soon enough, they were standing in the bedroom, and it was pretty anticlimactic. There was no screaming, no gasps, no incessant questions. (That probably would’ve happened if it had been Innit instead.)

Instead Wil is just standing there, observing all the memories littering his room. Sometimes, his eyes would stop for a second, and nervous energy would rise inside of Phil, but nothing happened. 

Then, Wil saw the framed picture on his nightstand, right next to an empty frame. The samsung smartfridge  Kristin was there, smiling so wide you can barely see her eyes. Phil was standing right next to her, staring at her as if she were more precious than anything in the entire universe. (She was.) 

Her hand was gently holding his, and she was holding up their hands for the camera to see. A netherite ring sat on her ring finger, the swirling red gem in the centre of the band gleaming in the light. 

He remembered that day like it was yesterday.

Wil was staring at the photo with an unreadable expression. Phil couldn’t tell if it was longing, sadness, or nostalgia. Maybe it was all of them. Maybe it was none.

Tentatively, Wilbur spoke, his voice quiet and hushed. “...can you tell me about her?” 

Phil’s eyebrows rose just a bit, but he decided to oblige. He kind of wanted to share his memories of her with someone else, now. 

“She was amazing.” His voice was involuntarily wistful. “Kinder than anyone I’ve ever met, but somehow badass at the same time.” A smile stretched across his face, small and sad. “Prettier than all the stars in the sky, and funnier than the world’s best comedian.” 

He laughed a little. It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears. “She was the only person I ever dated, the person I planned to marry.” 

Phil’s eyes stung. “Didn’t really work out, but I still love her.” He sighed. “I think I’ll always love her.” Wilbur nodded, sitting down. 

He patted the spot next to him with a smile. Phil sat down next to him, still holding back tears. Wil leaned into his side, voice just as sad as his had been. “I know what you’re talking about. I used to have someone like that too.” 

Phil swung an arm around Wil, pulling him closer. Oh. “She was incredible, Phil. She taught me how to live, how to be my own person.” 

Phil remembered animated conversations about animes and books, rants about the most random things. He remembered comforting words during breakdowns and soft hugs. He hadn’t really met anyone who actually understood , even if everyone said they did.

But he could hear it in Wil’s voice, the pain and longing that he knew all too well.

“She showed me what honesty meant, and she was nicer to me than anyone else ever was.” Wil was mumbling.

“We moved in together as soon as we were 18, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than I was when I was with her.” 

Wil was stiff under Phil’s arm. The next sentence he said came out so quiet that Phil barely understood it. “I was planning to propose before she-” Wil stopped.

Phil wrapped his other arm tighter around Wil, shifting so it was comfortable for both of them. 

For a while, they stayed like that. No words exchanged, no banter or anything. It was like a barrier that neither of them knew existed had been taken down. The two of them understood each other, in a way that not many others could.

Chapter Text

“It’s actually pretty easy,” The words wouldn’t stop echoing in his brain. “You just have to fake care and trust.” . Wil had sounded almost bored , as if the words weren’t terrifying. “Do things like shoot concerned glances as if you don’t know they’re looking when they’re obviously not okay,” (Wil’s worried look when he showed up with a bruise on his jaw.)

“talk about fake vulnerabilities as if they’re real,” (Fond conversations about Wil’s favorite things, turned sour in an instant.)

“seem interested in what they have to say.” (Questions interrupting his stories, always curious and captivated.)

“Depends on the person really, but faking love and trust usually gets most people.”  Was that all it was? Was Wil really just faking the trust and care he had shown Tommy? Did any of this mean anything to the others? Did any of them even care? Was Tommy just stupid for thinking it was anything more than a partnership?

“Wil, are you manipulating us?” The conversation wouldn’t stop replaying in his head, over and over and over until it felt like he was going crazy.

Tommy heard Wil’s explanation, heard Phil and Techno trust him, he heard it all, even though he wasn’t supposed to. 

But for some ridiculous reason, he couldn’t bring himself to believe Wil like Phil and Techno had. 

Why couldn’t he do it? He adored Wil, he really did. He thought Wil was amazing, with all his talents and incredible stories. He would even go as far as to say he looked up to him.

So why couldn’t he just believe that Wil wasn’t going to manipulate him, and then hurt him? Wil wouldn’t do that, he knew that. He wouldn’t . ( Yes he would. His brain hissed at him. Don’t let your guard down. He will hurt you. )

Tommy sighed, stepping out of his room, where he had been stewing for the past two hours. At first, he had tried to ignore it, assuming he’d just be able to push past his doubt, but now he was starting to think this would be a problem. It had been a day, and Tommy wasn’t any closer to getting rid of his irrational fear.

“Hey Tubbo,” he started tentatively. “I kinda need your help.” Tommy twisted the ends of his hoodie in his hands, avoiding Tubbo’s eyes. 

“Sure, Tommy.” Surprisingly, Tubbo’s words lacked their usual bite. “What do you need?”

“Well… I kind of overheard a conversation at Phil’s yesterday and it’s been basically eating me alive.” Tommy sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you sit down and tell me what you heard, yeah? I’m sure I can help.” Tommy could tell how hard Tubbo was trying to be supportive and gods was he thankful. He had always hated asking for help.

Tommy sat down next to Tubbo, still nervously fiddling with his hoodie. “Well, I kinda heard this conversation where Techno asked Wil about his manipulation and the words kind of just…” Tommy winced slightly. “Hit home, you know? And then Techno asked if he was manipulating us, and Wilbur said no and convinced Techno and Phil but…” Tommy sighed, shoulders sagging a bit. “I just can’t get his words out of my head. I can’t trust him like they did.” Disappointment in himself tugged at him, trying to pull him under and drown him while fear tugged the opposite way, threatening to tear him apart.

Wow, feelings suck.

“Can you tell me what he said?”

After a moment of hesitation, Tommy spoke. “‘It’s actually pretty easy,’” He quoted, voice dull. “‘You just have to pretend you care. Do things like shoot concerned glances as if you don’t know they’re looking when they’re obviously not okay, talk about fake vulnerabilities as if they’re real, seem interested in what they have to say. Depends on the person really, but faking love and trust usually gets most people.’”

He could recite the entire thing by heart. 

If Tommy had been looking up, he would’ve seen Tubbo’s face harden into a scowl.

“Right, and what did he say to prove he wasn’t manipulating you?”

“He mostly just said that he didn’t have a reason to, and that he didn’t want to hurt us. He asked Phil and Techno to believe him, and they did. I just want to believe him too, Tubbo.” Tommy buried his head in his hands. “I don’t know why I can’t.”

“Tommy.” Tubbo’s tone immediately warned Tommy that he was not going to like what would come out of Tubbo’s mouth next. “You can’t believe him. I know you want to, but you shouldn’t. Trusting people as dangerous as him is a bad idea, and if your brain won’t let you, it has a reason .” 

Tommy looked at Tubbo desperately, hating the sad yet angry expression he wore. “But Tubbo-” “No buts, Tommy.” Tubbo interrupted, volume rising. “He’s dangerous. They all are. I know you like them, and I could tell you were getting attached, but this has gone too far. He’s clearly manipulating you, and the fact that you want to believe he won’t hurt you means he’s succeeding.”

“Tubbo, he won’t hurt me! He’s trustworthy! He’s my friend , Tubbo!” Tommy screamed, tears pooling in his eyes. “I want to believe that, so badly, so why can’t you just help me? Please?” “Because,” Tubbo screamed back as Tommy flinched at the sheer amount of anger and hurt Tubbo’s voice held. “That’s what you thought about Dream, isn’t it?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Tubbo clapped a hand over his mouth, anger replaced instantly with regret.

The tears in Tommy’s eyes spilled over, and he stormed towards the door. “Tommy-” A choked voice called his name, but he ignored it as he threw the door open. “I need to get some air. Don’t follow me.” “Tommy plea-” The door slammed shut behind him as Tommy all but sprinted out the building, his feet knowing his destination before he made the decision himself.

--------------------------------------------------

“Hi Niki.” Tommy said quietly. “Can I get a chocolate chip muffin? I don’t have money on me right now, but I promise I’ll pay you back later.”

The comforting atmosphere of the homely café did nothing to ease Tommy’s anger and hurt.

The pink-haired woman smiled, opening the heated shelf behind her and pulling out two muffins. “That’s fine Tommy, you can have two. On the house. Want a honey bun to take home?”

Tommy winced a little before steeling himself. Niki didn’t know. It was fine.  “No thanks, Niki. I’m just going to eat here for a bit.” Tommy knew his voice probably sounded numb, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to give a fuck.

Ignoring Niki’s concerned gaze, Tommy grabbed the muffins and sat down in one of the booths, staring out the window while taking small bites out of his muffin.

That was what you thought about Dream, wasn’t it?  

It was. It was, and Dream hurt him terribly, ruined his whole life. But Dream never ruffled his hair or showered him with compliments. Dream never baked with him, never bickered for hours on end, never apologized when he went too far. But he did tell cool stories and made Tommy food and took Tommy on a vacation once. Of course, that all ended when he found Ranboo, but Dream was kind to him, for a bit. Just like Wil was. Who’s to say he wouldn’t find Wil’s Ranboo?

Pink flashed in the corner of his vision, and suddenly Niki was sitting in front of him, pushing a cup towards him, muffin in hand. 

“Here, a chocolate milkshake. I know they’re your favorite.”

“Niki I told you I don't have money-”

“It’s on the house.” Niki insisted, pushing the cup further towards him. “Consider it a thank you for being a regular.”

“Niki, you always give me discounts, it barely counts.”

Niki waved her hand. “Details, details.”

Tommy sighed and bit into the warm, sweet muffin as Niki began peeling her own blueberry muffin.

“Don’t you have to take care of the bakery?” 

“Nope, there’s never too many customers on Saturday afternoons.”

Tommy highly doubted that was true, but Niki didn’t budge, eating in silence. It was obvious Niki was trying to brighten his spirit, or maybe just trying to distract him, and honestly it was working.

He was still hurt from Tubbo’s words, still considering the fact that they might be true, and all he really wanted was a bit of support. 

Plus, he hated silence.

“I had an argument with my best friend.” Tommy said.

“Really?” 

“...Yeah. He said some stuff that just hurt, and I think he might be right.” Tommy scrunched his shoulders closer together. “I really don’t want him to be right.”

Niki hummed. “If you guys were having an argument, your roommate probably didn’t mean a lot of what he said. Feelings can make you say some dumb things, you know. There’s a pretty good chance he wasn’t right.” 

Niki took a bite out of her muffin, eyes trained on the treat rather than Tommy. “Trust your gut, but not blindly. Instincts are often right, but facts are still important. It sounds complicated, I know, but I think you’ll figure it out, eventually. You’ve always been pretty sharp, Tommy. I think everything will be just fine.”

“Thanks, Niki.” 

Well, that was certainly heavy. What the fuck was it supposed to mean, anyways? If Niki was telling him not to let his feelings rule him, then that was pretty useless advice. He wasn’t that dumb. 

But then again, Niki had her life figured out so well that Tommy was kind of inclined to listen. She was doing amazing, so Tommy supposed her advice wouldn’t be bad . 

Then again, she lived a normal, civilian life. Tommy was a thief in a team of murderers. Maybe the advice just wasn’t applicable to his situation?

The loud slurping noise that came from his cup startled him out of his thoughts. His milkshake, which he had been sipping absentmindedly, was gone.

Oh.

His face heated up in embarrassment as Niki chuckled. “Want some more?”

He shook his head. Niki had already given him so much, he wasn’t going to ask for more.

“It’s fine.” Tommy picked up his other muffin, getting up from his seat. “I think I’ll have this on my way home.” 

Niki stood up too, heading to the counter. “Alright, just wait a second, okay?”

She returned with a box. “Honey buns.” She winked. “I’m sure you’ll appreciate them later.”

Before Tommy could give them back, or even say anything, Niki was gone, already behind the counter.

Tommy stared at the box as he walked out. Niki was way too nice.

Chapter Text

If Tubbo could beat himself up, he would. It’s not like he had lied , per se, but he had definitely said the wrong thing. As afraid as Tubbo was of losing Tommy again, even he could understand that bringing up Dream when Tommy was already unstable was a shit thing to do. 

Saying dumb, hurtful things when your best friend is very much traumatized usually ends very, very badly. And it wasn’t like Tubbo didn’t know that, he knew that better than anyone. He had fought with Tommy too many times to count, but he knew he had really crossed a line this time.

Obviously, Tommy really liked Wil, and comparing him to Dream probably wasn’t… the best idea. Yeah, judging from the fact that Tommy had locked him out of their room, it really wasn’t a good idea. 

Tubbo had just let his feelings get the better of him. Could you really blame him?

Dream had swooped in and ‘adopted’ Tommy, leaving Tubbo all alone. He had searched for years , and it was only after Dream was thrown in prison by the Blade that he was able to see Tommy again.

He had only just gotten his best friend back last year, so he felt like his paranoia was at least a little bit justified.

Tubbo sighed, pulling his knees closer to his chest. Even if his feelings were justified, he knew his words really weren’t. Even if Wil was bad, Tubbo was pretty sure he wasn’t as bad as Dream . 

He wanted to apologize, he really did, but Tommy refused to let him. As soon as Tommy came back, he immediately went into their room and locked himself in. He wouldn’t respond to anything Tubbo said or did, and the only sign that he was even in the room was the half-empty dish that was slid back under the door after Tubbo gave him dinner.

Tubbo had no idea what to do. And unlike Tommy, he wasn’t going to wait for things to get unbearable to ask for help.

Hey Ranboo , he texted.

Cna we meet at the park rihgt after school tomorow? Need ur hepl

A minute or two later, his phone dinged

Sure Tubbo, see you tomorrow! Tell your sleep paralysis demon hi for me!

He smiled a little.

--------------

Tubbo set his backpack on the ground and took his seat next to Ranboo on the bench.

“So, what’s up Tubbo?”

“I fucked up really bad.”

Ranboo his eyebrows. “Worse than normal?”

“So much worse.”

“What did you do?”

“I brought up Dream in an argument with Tommy.”

Ranboo winced in empathy and gave Tubbo a sharp glare. 

“Tubbo that is messed up, why on Earth would you do that?”
“I’m sorry, okay? I just let my feelings get the better of me. I know I shouldn’t have. I want to make it up to him, but I don’t know how. He won’t let me talk to him!”

Ranboo nodded earnestly. “Good on him. That was a terrible thing for you to do Tubbo. If you understand that, then just… get him a gift, or something like that. Give him a hug, he likes those. Make him a really nice dinner? If he won’t listen to your words, you just gotta show him what you want to say. Actions always meant more to him than words anyways. If that doesn’t work, the three of us can have a sleepover later to kind of fix things.”

“Ranboo, you are a fucking genius, this is exactly why I married you.”

“Tubbo, for the last time, we are not married, you fabricated those papers and we never actually submitted them anyways.”

“Details, details. Anyways, what do you think I should steal for Tommy?”

“Tubbo.” Ranboo groaned. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Because you’re my husband, bossman!”

-----------

Tubbo stumbled into the apartment light headed and sweaty, a plushie clutched in one hand, blood dripping slowly down the other.

“Hey Tommy,” he said, words slightly slurred. A hazy grin was set on his face. “I brought you a gift to apolo-” Tubbo stopped, as if thinking. “To apologize! That’s the word I was looking for.” He giggled, stretching his arm out with this plush still in his hand. “His name is Henry!”

Tubbo frowned. His head felt awfully fuzzy, but he could see Tommy looking at him with a weird expression. “Tommy? What’s wrong?”

“Tubbo-” His voice was quiet and strained, but Tubbo gasped in delight because Tommy finally spoke to him , attempting to clap his hands before a sharp pang reminded him of his injury. He frowned again, looking down at it. The sleeve on his hoodie was almost completely stained red from below his elbow, and drops of his blood were dripping onto the floor. “My hoodie’s all stained now. And it's ripped too!”

“Tubbo, you’re bleeding.” Tubbo snorted, sliding onto the floor as his knees started to get wobbly and the pain in his arm seemed to increase drastically. “No shit, dickwad.”

Tubbo could hear rustling, but all he could see was the sleeve of hoodie, drenched in red. He shoved the new, soft cow plush to the side, not wanting to stain it. 

Tubbo jumped back a little as a pair of shaking hands started to roll up his sleeve. The hands started to wipe away his blood with a wet cloth. “Tubbo,” Tommy whispered. “What the hell happened?” Tubbo looked up to see Tommy shaking violently, face pale with fear. The hands on his arm had stopped moving.

“Tommy,” he called after a second. His brain buzzed slightly. “Tommy, you’re panicking.” Tommy seemed to snap out of it, continuing his wiping.

“Wha-what happened?” He repeated. 

“Wanted to get you a gift,” Tubbo said with a small smile. “A bullet grazed me while I was running away from the mall, but that’s fine. It’ll heal.”

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath. Tubbo’s arm was throbbing with pain now. It felt like he was on the verge of passing out. 

“It’s not fucking fine, Tubbo. You shouldn’t have stolen from the mall! You know they have guards there, what were you thinking? You could’ve gotten me some chocolate or a new hoodie but no , you just had to go steal a plushie from the fucking mall, of all places. You’re supposed to be the responsible one here Tubbo!” Tommy’s eyes shone with unshed tears.

Tubbo giggled, despite the circumstances. “As if I’m responsible.”

“Tubbo, please.” The shorter boy winced as Tommy disinfected his wound. “Promise me you won’t do that again, no matter how mad I am.”

Tubbo frowned as gauze began covering his arm. “But what if I fuck up really badly again? And you won't let me talk?”

“Tubbo, I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s literally the worst way to try to make me happy.”

“But do you forgive me?”

Tommy sighed. “I’ll forgive you if you promise never to do something like that again.”

Tubbo cheered. “I promise!”

Tommy gave a small smile, finishing up the bandaging. “Go wash the rest of the blood off yourself, I’ll get you some painkillers.”

Chapter Text

Tommy’s eyes fluttered closed as a breeze washed over him, soothing him the tiniest bit.

The rooftop he was laying on was nice. It was fairly clean and high up enough that no one on the ground would be able to see him. Plus, the breeze was really strong, which he adored.

All in all, a perfect place to go if you want to get out of the house for a while to make your roommate believe you’re going to the meetings you’re supposed to be going to but are too much of a coward to actually attend. Although his avoidance was partly Tubbo’s fault, so Tommy didn’t feel all that guilty about lying.

The argument with Tubbo had just left him more confused, more skeptical. Even after they made up, Tommy was still a little (okay, maybe more than just a little) mad, and he could tell Tubbo knew that too. 

The thought of Wil being like Dream wouldn’t leave him alone, and Tommy was barely holding it together after Tubbo voiced his thoughts. He felt like he was constantly one minor inconvenience away from a breakdown.

Honestly, he was tempted to just quit altogether, but he couldn’t do that to Tubbo, even after their argument. He couldn’t let all that money slip through their fingers because of his stupid feelings.

After Tubbo came home injured, Tommy said he forgave Tubbo, and he did. For the most part. Tommy was still human, and he really couldn’t help the fact that Tubbo’s words had just.. Hurt. A lot.

So their conversations ended up strained and short-lived, polite and tinged with hurt. It was nothing like their usual, loud, insulting banter. Tommy hated it, but kind of liked it at the same time. At least it meant he didn’t have to see Tubbo as often. 

Tommy physically cringed at his own thoughts. 

It wasn’t really Tubbo himself, it was just… when Tubbo came home that day, Tommy had remembered something he’d honestly rather forget. And now he couldn’t stop remembering it. (Every damn time he saw his own best friend-)

Because all Tommy could see, back then, was blood, drenching Tubbo’s purple hoodie and dripping onto the floor, red and red and more red. He could almost see the knife in his own hands.

That was one of the worst memories he had of his time with Dream. He shuddered as it made it’s way to the forefront of his consciousness. 

He wished he could just forget again.

He opened his eyes to fluffy white clouds in a brilliant blue sky. What a beautiful day for ugly thoughts like his own. Tommy brought his hand up in front of his face, observing the faded scar that stretched across his palm. He had always wondered when he got that.

The memory surfaced again.

(I just really wanted to write this scene so here, have memory in italics.

TW// Blood, violence, death.)

Tommy gasped in pain as a foot struck his stomach, an involuntary groan leaving his lips immediately after, followed by a coughing fit. He could see a fist coming towards him, when a quiet, muffled sound reached his ears. He couldn’t really tell what it was, but it was undoubtedly human. 

The fist stopped in it’s tracks, and Dream stood up straight, opening the warehouse door with an unnerving amount of calmness. 

A few seconds and some concerning noises later, a stranger in a purple hoodie was dragged into the warehouse by Dream. 

The door slammed shut behind them.

Dread pooled in Tommy’s stomach. The stranger struggled in Dream’s grip. “Please, let me go! I promise I won’t tell anyone! I just want to live!” He didn’t look like he could be more than 3 or 4 years older than Tommy. Maybe 18 at best.

Tommy looked away. Knowing Dream, the stranger wouldn’t be leaving the warehouse alive. 

A laugh echoed through the warehouse. “As if I’m just going to let you go. You were trying to stick your nose in business that you should’ve left alone, and now you’ll pay the price.” The boy was thrown onto the ground harshly. The crack that followed and the scream of pain made Tommy shudder. “It’s a shame too,” Dream said, sounding almost sad. “I didn’t want to have to move out of this warehouse.”

The stranger’s eyes met Tommy’s. “Please,” Tommy could hear the desperacy in his voice. “Please help me.”

Hot tears traced down Tommy’s cheeks as he looked away. Dream laughed again. “Thank you for that moving plea, boy. You’ve just given me a wonderful idea!” Tommy’s blood ran cold as Dream’s mask met his eyes. “This is your mistake, isn’t it Tommy? If you hadn’t made so much noise, we wouldn’t be here, would we? So, why don’t you get rid of your mistake?”

At first, Tommy didn’t understand. Then, a gasp came from Ranboo, and Tommy finally got it. Tommy shook his head violently. “I’m so sorry Dream, it won’t happen again.”

“But it happened this time didn’t it? Fix your mistake, Tommy.” A sob wracked his body as Tommy clutched his hands closer to his body, still shaking his head. 

Dream walked towards him, pulling out a knife. “Tommy, give me your hand.” Dream’s voice was soft and sweet. Dream always had his best intentions at heart. Dream was just trying to help Tommy. Tommy almost wanted to listen.

Then, he remembered the situation. 

He shook his head again. “Please, Dream. I’ll be better, I promise I will.”

Dream’s voice became harsher. “Tommy, give me your hands.”

Still shaking with fear, Tommy held out his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Cold metal pressed against his skin, and pain erupted in his left hand. He bit his lip, trying not to cry out. 

He felt wood in the palm of his other hand.

“That’s your punishment for not doing as you’re told. Now, go fix your mistake, Tommy. You don’t want to know what will happen if you don’t listen this time.”

Tommy recognized that tone perfectly. 

Numbly, he stood up, wrapping his hand around the handle of the knife. The boy scrambled back, groaning in pain as Tommy continued to walk closer. “Tommy, was it? Please, there’s two of us, we can beat him if we really try. There’s the boy in the corner too, maybe he’ll help us! Please, don’t kill me.” Tears dripped out of the boy’s eyes as his back hit the wall. 

Tommy walked closer.

He crouched.

And stuck the knife through the boy’s chest, where he knew his heart would be. 

Tommy’s hands shook terribly as a blood curdling scream filled the room.

And then there was silence. 

And then, a cold laugh. “Very good, Tommy!”

But all Tommy could see was red, red on his hands, red on the knife, red spreading around the boy’s chest, rapidly covering the soft purple.

(//TW OVER)

Tommy closed his eyes again, sighing.

This was giving him way too much time to think.

Maybe he should go visit Niki again.

Chapter Text

When Tommy finally went back home, he locked himself in the room again, wanting to avoid seeing Tubbo as much as he could. All he really did was stare at the ceiling, and then his phone, but suddenly the sky was painted hues of orange and red outside his window.

He almost cringed at how the red reminded him of blood , and laughed bitterly at the fact that he couldn’t even look at sunsets the same anymore

Tubbo called for dinner.

Tommy didn’t want to go.

The prospect of food made his stomach churn, and he found that he wasn’t even hungry despite the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything that day.

But Tommy could hear the desperation in Tubbo’s voice, and the guilt inside him overpowered everything else. So he went.

And it ended up being a good idea, too, because at dinner Tubbo asked if he wanted to have a sleepover at Ranboo’s two days later. 

Tommy was always a social type of person. He loved meeting new people, seeing the way they reacted to all his jokes and mannerisms, learning what made them laugh until they couldn’t breathe.

He loved making people laugh.

He loved making his friends laugh more than anything else.

And he hadn’t seen Ranboo in such a long time, too.

Tommy had never actually been to Ranboo’s, seeing as to the fact that he didn’t go to school, and explaining how they knew each other would be a pain in the ass. So they only ever met some days at the park, or at fairs or the occasional movie night.

But Tommy loved Ranboo all the same, through all the jealousy that came from watching Ranboo become best friends with Tubbo. ( He was supposed to be Tubbo's best friend.) , through all the longing that came with watching Ranboo find a loving home.

The hugs and the mutual understanding, the quiet tips after each therapy session Ranboo attended and the random bits of money he found stuffed in his backpack after they hung out made up for all the things about Ranboo that made Tommy hurt, that weren't really Ranboo's fault anyways.

It wasn’t Ranboo’s fault he was more lovable than Tommy was, after all.

But that wasn’t the point; no matter how much Tommy loved Ranboo and Ranboo (possibly) loved Tommy back, they had agreed that Tommy couldn’t go to Ranboo’s.

And now they were breaking that agreement. 

Tommy wasn’t stupid. He knew that his friends were just trying to fix things after his argument with Tubbo. He knew that was the only reason he was being given this opportunity. But, well, he really wanted to see Ranboo’s house. (His house. Not him. Definitely.)

So he agreed.

At 5:00 pm on Friday ( A meeting day , his mind whispered. He told it to shut the fuck up.), Tommy was knocking on Ranboo’s door, backpack secured on his shoulders and Tubbo’s hand holding his own tightly. Clingy, Tommy had called him. Neither of them mentioned how hard Tommy was gripping Tubbo’s hand.

Ranboo opened the door, and immediately grinned. Softie. And suddenly, Ranboo was hugging him. Tommy let go of Tubbo’s hand, returning the hug. No one saw his little smile, which means it never existed. 

Ranboo hugged Tubbo next, and ushered them in. “You guys are early!” Tubbo looked at him inquisitively as he walked in, Tommy trailing behind him. “What do you mean boss man? It’s 5.” Ranboo raised his eyebrow. “You were supposed to come at 5:30.” 

Tubbo looked down sheepishly. “Oh. Sorry.”  “It’s fine Tubbo, it’s just that James is out getting groceries right now.” Tubbo hummed. 

During their conversation, Tommy was observing the house. It was, simply put, awesome . 

Whoever decorated the place should be an interior designer. The kitchen was lined wall to wall with wooden cabinets, a swirly marble counter sitting next to a stove. A little bit away from the countertop, a large dark table sat with various bottles and containers on it, surrounded by four chairs. 

A breakfast bar separated the kitchen and the living room, with two stools placed right in front of it.

A dark, cream colored carpet covered the living room floor, with plush looking couches all over the place. A beanbag sat in one corner, right next to the TV. 

Controllers were placed neatly on the beanbag, a sleek black cat sleeping right next to them. Tommy counted 2 picture frames hanging on the cream walls, reflecting the sunlight that streamed in from the windows.

In the back of the living room was a wide hallway lined with doors, which was where Ranboo was leading them. 

Ranboo was pointing to the first door. “That’s the bathroom.” He pointed to the room next to it. “That’s James's room.” He turned to the room at the end of the hallway. “That’s the storage room.”

Next, he turned to the other side of the hallway, pointing to the door opposite the bathroom. “That’s the spare bedroom.” And finally, he pointed to the last room, next to the spare room. “And that’s my room.” He really didn’t need to tell them that, seeing as there was a picture of him right above the door. He walked over to the room and pushed the door open.

The room was nauseatingly cozy. Tommy longed for something like it desperately . 

Posters were plastered all over the walls, which were a shade of dark blue. Pictures of Ranboo and Tubbo, Ranboo and a guy with dark brown hair, and even a picture of Ranboo and an unmasked Techno hung on the walls. (Tommy could not believe that Ranboo had gotten Techno to take a picture with him. Not to mention, an unmasked picture with him. HOW???)

A bed sat comfortably against a wall in the corner, covered in soft looking blankets and plushies. A large window was covered by blue curtains with leafy patterns.

A table with a PC was placed on the other side of the room, right in front of a unicorn gaming chair. Fluffy white slippers sat in one corner, placed nealy. A shelf filled with books and other random trinkets was right next to the door, and a closet door was right next to the PC.

An involuntary “Holy shit” escaped Tommy’s mouth. He snapped his mouth closed, cheeks rapidly reddening. Ranboo just laughed. “You guys can leave your stuff on the bed, I don’t mind if you decide to sleep here or in the guest room.” “Here,” Tommy breathed, “Definitely here.”

For a teenager who hadn’t had a stable home since he was 4, the room was like heaven on earth.

“Alright well, that’s fine. Put your stuff down, let’s go play Mario Kart!” Tubbo clapped his hands in excitement, while Tommy just stared at Ranboo blankly. “Mario Kart? Is that the game Tubbo is always talking about?” Ranboo gasped as if he had said something offensive. “You’ve never played Mario Kart before?” Tommy shook his head. “This is atrocious!” And just like that, Ranboo was dragging him out of the room, muttering something about “missing out on the best part of life”. 

Half an hour later, Tommy understood Ranboo’s reaction. Mario Kart was the fucking best . (I have never played mario kart if this is inaccurate i’m s o r r y)

“This is so unfair!” Ranboo whined. “You guys keep ganging up on me!” Tommy cackled. “What’s that boob boy? I can’t hear you from first place! ”

30 minutes of yelling and laughter with your best friends are easily enough to make you forget your worries, Tommy found. Sitting in Ranboo’s living room, with a controller in his hand and Tubbo’s boisterous laughter right next to him, Tommy felt happier than he had the entire week.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Chapter Text

Ranboo perked up. “That must be James!” His tall friend opened the door, a smile on his face, and a man walked in. 

In a split second, everything went wrong.

The man began to turn to look at him and Tubbo, Tommy caught sight of his face, and dread filled every vein in his body.

Faster than he would have thought possible, he dropped the controller and ran over to the bathroom, almost slamming the door behind him. He locked it, hands shaking, and slumped down against it. 

Vaguely, he could hear concerned voices. His heartbeat was loud enough to drown them out. Of all the things he had expected, this was not one of them. Tommy knew Techno had saved Ranboo from Dream. He knew that Techno had found Ranboo bleeding out on his doorstep and taken care of him until he healed and beat up Dream when the green fucked tried to get Ranboo back.

Tommy knew Techno cared about Ranboo, and Tommy knew Techno saved Ranboo. (And him, accidentally.)

Tommy, however, thought that Ranboo was staying with some random guy who decided to take pity on him after Ranboo made his public statement against Dream. Not the Blade himself . (That picture made much more sense now.)

Oh gods, what could he do? Techno was right there, looking weirdly domestic with his scruffy bun and brown eyes (So Ranboo lied. Those were contacts. Fucking boob boy.) and glasses. 

Tommy knew Blade would recognize him if he just walked out like this. If not from his appearance, then from his voice or his mannerisms. He buried his face in his hands. Now was not the time to sulk.

Maybe he could just do what Wil did and change his voice himself? But Wil had years of practice, he had nothing! Plus, his hair and his eyes paired with the lower half of his face was plenty for Techno to at least be suspicious.

Part of him just wanted to say “Fuck it” and face Techno, but the larger part was petrified of the consequences.

So, he started looking around. Maybe they had some makeup he could put on? A couple hair bands sat in the cabinet under the sink. He took one and tied his hair back into a ponytail, albeit a tiny one. He continued trifling through the cabinets, only to come up with nothing except brown tinted chapstick. (cocoa chapstick is the fucking best I take no arguments) 

He shrugged, put it on, and steeled himself. He could do this. He just had to make his voice a little deeper. It couldn’t be that hard. 

Tommy walked out of the bathroom with a smile that hopefully looked genuine and took his place beside Tubbo.

Techno was staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes, suspicion and concern evident on his face. Techno stared, and stared, and stared, the atmosphere becoming tense and suffocating.

It was weird, seeing Techno like this, as if he was actively trying to externalize his emotions. Like he didn’t want to seem blank or emotionless. (Like he didn’t want to remind Ranboo of Dream.)

Tommy kinda wished he had taken Ranboo up on the offer to come live with him back when he had just been saved.

But back then he had been scared of every unfamiliar face, and all he really wanted was to see Tubbo again, so he declined.

He regretted it, just a bit. 

Tommy stared back at Techno, trying to hide the sadness and longing he felt.

Ranboo shot Tommy a confused look, but didn’t question it. Thank fuck. 

“James, this is my friend Tommy, and Tommy, this is my brother James.” Techno seemed to puff up a little when Ranboo called him brother , momentarily forgetting their staring contest. Hah. Soft. 

“Hi, James. Nice to finally meet you.” Tommy put on his deepest voice. Judging by Techno’s surprised expression, it did the job. 

He ignored the pang in his throat.

“Hi Tommy, good to see you too. Feel free to make yourself at home.” Since when was Techno nice? 

“Thanks b-” Tommy cut himself off, groaning internally. Techno would notice his mannerisms in an instant. “...buddy.” 

Tubbo interrupted the awkward, terrifying conversation with a cough. “Well, Ranboo was going to show us this book of his, so we’ll be going now.” 

Tubbo was the fucking best, Tommy decided. He was going to buy his best friend so many honey buns after this. He was so absolutely forgiven. Ranboo, who looked absolutely lost, nodded. “Uh, yeah. Sure. C’mon guys.”

As soon as the door was shut and locked behind the three of them, Tubbo turned around with a dark glare in his eyes. He crossed his arms and stared at Tommy.

“Tommy,” He said threateningly. “Mind explaining yourself?” 

“Well it’s not my fault Ranboo didn’t tell us he was living with the fucking Blade.” Tommy hissed.

Tubbo and Ranboo’s faces were painted with identical looks of shock. “What the fuck? James is the Blade?” Tubbo said at the same time that Ranboo said, “How did you know that?” 

Tommy sighed. “Yes, Tubbo. And Ranboo, I’m working with him right now. He showed me his face.” 

Ranboo gasped. “Hold on, you’re Innit, aren’t you? Is your thing with Tubbo why you’ve been MIA the whole week? Blade’s been going crazy with worry!” 

Tommy groaned. “Fuckin’ hell, of course you’d figure it out that easily.” A part of him softened at the idea of Blade being worried about him.

Tubbo looked very, very disturbed. “Hold on hold on hold on. So you’re telling me that James, the same James that could probably ramble about Greek mythology for hours and literally paid me to beat up Ranboo’s bullies is the fucking Blade? ”

“He did what now?” Ranboo interjected.

Tommy snorted. “Yep, sounds like Techno alright.” 

“How many names does this man even need?”

“Way too many, honestly.”

“Are we just going to brush past the fact that my legal guardian paid Tubbo to beat up my bullies?”

Both Tubbo and Tommy ignored Ranboo in favor of staring at each other.

“So you’re just going to ignore me, alright then.”

As the initial shock wore off, Tubbo spoke again. “So is that why you put on your whole act? Because you didn’t want him to know your identity? Why the voice though, don’t you have the voice mod?”

Tommy wasn’t going to tell Tubbo he trusted the others with his voice, because they were just starting to move past the argument and the last thing they needed was another one. Tubbo didn’t need to know the whole truth anyways. “Yeah. I ended up accidentally speaking without it once. That’s all. Can we just… move on?” Technically it wasn’t a total lie.

Fortunately, his friends let it drop, going back to just having fun. The rest of the day went surprisingly well. 

Ranboo had them listen to his favorite songs, and told them all about random trinkets that were lying around the room. After that, they played terraria on Ranboo’s PC, which ended in mass amounts of laughter and screaming. Hopefully the walls muffled Tommy’s voice.

They had dinner with Techno, and Tommy loved it. The food rivaled Phil’s, it was that good. The atmosphere was comfortable, with playful banter between the three others lightening the mood. 

All Tommy had wanted to was join in. Instead, he shoved the lasagna down his throat and forced himself not to interrupt. Techno couldn’t hear him speak any more than necessary. 

After dinner, Ranboo sat beside him as Tubbo excused himself to go to the bathroom.

“Hey, Tommy? I just want you to know that you can trust me, and even though you probably won’t believe me on this one, you can trust Techno too.”

“Well, you were right about me not believing you.” Tommy commented dryly, ignoring the first bit that made his heart clench.

“Well, that’s alright. I’m sure Techno can prove it to you on his own.” Ranboo said determinedly.

“But focus on the first part, Tommy. You can trust me . I know whatever happened between you and Tubbo probably hurt a lot, even though I don’t know exactly what he said. And Tommy, please remember, you’re not alone. I understand you, I’ve got you, you can talk to me . Whatever it is, whatever you feel, I won’t judge you, and I won’t hurt you.”

Tommy stared at Ranboo and Tommy hurt so badly because it was exactly what he wanted to hear, exactly what he wanted, and Ranboo looked so earnest it hurt.

It hurt that Tommy still couldn’t bring himself to let it all out, because he knew Ranboo had probably forgotten all about the incident too.

And Tommy wasn’t jealous enough to hurt him like that.

But maybe he could talk about something else?

“...Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“That’s not really reassuring, considering you were literally suicidal like a year ago.”

Ranboo smacked him lightly on the head, his small smile showing he didn’t take the sarcastic comment to heart.

“Shut up, you know I’m better now.”

“I do, and I’m very proud of you.” Tommy said softly, smiling at one of the kindest people he knew.

“As much as I appreciate it, stop deflecting, Tommy.”

Tommy groaned. “If Puffy’s advice wasn’t the only thing keeping me sane, I would hate her for teaching you about all the psychology bullshit.”

“You’re deflecting again , Tommy.”

The door creaked open, showing a smiling Tubbo.

“Oh, welp, would you look at that, Tubbo’s back!”

“ Tommy!”

------- ----

They played FNAF as it started to get dark, which, as expected, led to an unholy amount of screeching. They only stopped when Techno interrupted them with “It’s 11 pm, shut up or I’ll get evicted.” Tommy screeched again because of yet another jumpscare, sending everyone into bouts of laughter, but after that they quieted down.

Techno dragged an extra mattress, and more pillows and blankets than Tommy had owned in his life, into the room, and they settled down to sleep. 

By 12 am, all of them were out like lights. 

“Tommy” A voice, taunting and cruelly amused yet terrifyingly angry. “Come out from wherever you’re hiding, and maybe I’ll consider not using the knife.” Ragged breathing. Was that his own? “Come on Tommy, I’m your friend! You wouldn’t hide from your friend, would you?” Footsteps, getting louder and louder. Then, for a moment, nothing. And suddenly, there was a body, leaning so that it was right in front of him. A mask, white with an unnerving smile. “Ah. Found you.” 

Tommy woke up with a gasp. His throat ached. His cheeks felt wet. Another nightmare. (Another memory.)

He turned on his phone to check the time. The light flashed brightly. 2 am.

He groaned, and felt his throat burn. Maybe the whole ‘making his voice go as deep as possible’ thing wasn’t such a good idea.

He got up, shivering in the cold as he left the warmth of the blankets behind. Some water would probably help.

As he exited the room, shutting the door as quietly as he could, he was faced with Techno, sitting in an armchair with a book in his hands. Staring right at him.

Tommy considered just turning around, but the ache in his throat protested. 

“Tommy. Would you like some hot chocolate?” Techno was much less expressive now, but still just as weirdly nice. Kind of like how he was when he was teaching Tommy to read.

Gods, he wanted to have a reading session with Techno again. 

Tommy hesitated. The logical thing would be to say no, get his water, and go back to sleep.

But hot chocolate . He hadn’t had it in years, but he remembered loving it, and gods a warm drink would do wonders for his throat. 

So he sighed. “Yes please.” he whispered, not willing to exert his vocal chords again.

Techno just nodded, placing his book down after marking the page and making his way to the kitchen. 

Tommy followed, sitting down in a chair, tense despite his drowsiness. Soon enough, a cup was placed in front of him, and Techno sat across from him with his own mug. 

A milky brown substance swayed in the mug, tiny marshmallows floating on top as steam rolled off the top of the mug in wisps. Tommy clutched the drink in his hands, feeling a wave of comfort wash over him as the warmth seeped into his hands (Holding a warm drink in the cold is everything )

“Wanna talk about it?” Techno asked quietly. His hair was tied back in a braid now, and it reminded Tommy painfully of the time he and Wil had practiced braiding on Techno.

“Why?” he whispered, almost involuntarily. 

“Why what?” Techno asked, voice as level and monotone as ever.

“Why do you care?” Tommy struggled to keep his voice deep and his volume rose.

“Well,” Techno blew on his mug. “A couple of reasons, really. For one, you’re Ranboo’s friend.” He took a sip, screwing up his face as he probably burned his tongue. “And you look a lot like someone I care about.” Techno closed his eyes, relaxing into the chair. “Plus, you seem like you could use a bit of care right about now.” 

At that, Tommy broke. Tears slipped down his face as he sniffled pathetically, trying to wipe them away. It seemed like everything had finally caught up to him after a solid week of ignoring his feelings, and he couldn’t hold back the tears. He took a breath, looking at Techno, who was looking right back with so much care and concern in his eyes.

“It’s me, you know. You’re right.” Tommy let his voice go back to it’s normal tone, sniffling again.

Tommy wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, honestly. Maybe a gasp, or some scolding, or even a glare. Maybe a lecture, or a sneer and screams for him to get out. (Logically, Tommy knew Techno wouldn’t do that, but his instincts didn’t care about reason. The part of his brain that had been trained perfectly by Dream expected punishment. He deserved that, didn’t he?)

Defying any expectations, Techno just hummed, taking a sip of cocoa. When there was no further reaction from him, Tommy wiped his tears with his sleeve and took a sip of his own cocoa. 

It was warm, and it soothed a part of him he didn’t know needed to be soothed. 

“Wanna tell me why you haven’t been showing up to meetings?” Techno’s voice was quiet, and it held no malice. Just soft concern.

Tommy hesitated. And hesitated some more. Techno didn’t say anything. More tears pricked the backs of his eyes, but he held them back. 

Techno didn’t seem to have any bad intentions, he wasn’t trying to force Tommy into speaking or lecturing him. Techno, by all means, seemed harmless, trustworthy even. You can trust Techno too , Ranboo had said.

Yet Tommy hesitated, because what if Techno was going to hurt him too? What if they were just manipulating him into staying like Dream for some sick kind of pleasure? What if they were just acting, until the heist was done, and then the other shoe would drop? Tubbo said he shouldn’t trust them. Tubbo was usually right.

Tommy looked at Techno, with his messed up hair and tired eyes and crooked glasses, and shoved his fears aside. Maybe this time, Tubbo was wrong after all.

“It’s...Wil. Kind of.” Tommy cleared his throat. “I heard the conversation you guys were having the other day…” He had to pause, and take another deep breath so he didn’t start panicking just thinking about it. 

“I’ve been through some… things. And someone manipulated me really badly. And they hurt me, a lot. I know Wil probably isn’t the same, I know he convinced you he isn’t manipulating you but I just… can’t believe it. I don’t know why. On top of that, I had an argument with my roommate over it, and he just told me that Wil was for sure just manipulating me. I felt like I couldn’t face Wil after that. So I just didn’t.” 

Tommy pulled his knees up onto the chair, pressing closer to them and curling into himself.

There was a soft exhale across from him. "Oh, Innit.” The words sounded sad. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.” 

There was a light scraping noise, and Tommy didn’t dare look up. The next time Techno spoke, he sounded much closer to Tommy. “Tommy, can you look at me?”

Slowly, Tommy lifted his head to where Techno’s voice was coming from. Techno was sitting sideways in the chair next to him, expression gentle and coaxing, as if he was talking to a stray puppy.

When Tommy’s watery eyes met Techno’s brown ones, Techno smiled. It didn’t look nearly as strange as the first time Tommy had seen it.

“There you go, that’s it. Now I need you to listen to me, alright?” Tommy nodded, jerky and small.

There was a little tap on his hands. “First, you should really let go of that.”

Tommy blinked. His hands were still clutching the mug of hot cocoa, knuckles turned white. He let go of the mug, wincing as pain shot up his fingers. 

“Now, hear me out, okay?.” Tommy turned to face Techno again.

“Your feelings are completely and entirely valid. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but if it has you reacting like this… It must’ve been rough.” Techno sounded so soft and gentle that Tommy almost couldn’t believe he was talking to the Blade himself.

“I’ve seen my fair share of liars, and I don’t think Wil is one of them. But, obviously, me saying that doesn’t mean much.” Techno took a breath. 

“If I recall correctly, Wil said he would do whatever he needed to do to prove his honesty, right?” Reluctantly, Tommy nodded, his sleep-addled brain still not catching on to Techno’s implications.

“So why don’t we go talk to him, and then we can see if Wil can convince you?”

The realization dawned on Tommy. If he was so conflicted about Wil, he could just go talk to the man himself.

Gods, he was stupid.

“Yeah.” He replied quietly. “That sounds good.”

 After a moment of silence, Techno sighed. “You worried us half to death, kid.”

And Tommy, Tommy was relieved. Because he could finally get rid of all his pointless conflictions and internal struggles, because he could finally just be free of it. But of course, his joy was darkened by the anxious what-ifs that lurked just beneath the surface, because his anxiety couldn’t just leave him alone for 5 seconds. 

But he didn’t want to ruin the moment, so Tommy did what Tommy does best. He sent Techno a cheeky grin. “Just my job, innit?”

He ignored it.

Chapter Text

Tommy stood in front of Phil’s door like he had several times before. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to knock.

The effects of the pep talk he had given himself before leaving were completely gone. Techno would back him up no matter what, and Tommy knew that. Techno had told him that about 10 times in the past 2 days.

Tommy kind of wished he had Tubbo to hold his hand throughout it all. ( Tubbo would hate you for doing this in the first place, his brain told him. It probably wasn’t wrong.)

Tommy stared at the white door, the nameplate with Phil Watson engraved in it, the flower pots on the porch. It was achingly familiar.

“You can leave whenever you want,” Tommy tried to remember Techno’s words. “ All you have to do is tap 3 times on my arm, and I’ll make up an excuse so we can leave .” That’s right, Tommy reminded himself.

Techno could give him an easy out. He could just leave if it got bad. 

Tommy took a deep breath,

And knocked. 

Seconds later, the door was flung open and he was wrapped in warm arms. Tommy tensed, but the person stepped away very quickly. 

“Innit, where have you been? Are you okay? Are you injured?” Phil was scanning him for injuries, hands still on his shoulders. When he spotted none, he sighed in relief and pulled Tommy into another hug.

“I was so worried. Thank the Gods you’re okay.” Tommy was just standing still, a bit too surprised to process anything. 

Phil… Phil was worried?

“Phil.” A monotone voice cut in. “Personal space.” Phil immediately let go, stepping back.
“Sorry, sorry, I should’ve asked before hugging you.” Tommy muttered a “it’s alright”, still dazed as the door closed behind him. 

“Yeah, mother hen, I want my Innit hugs too!” Wil. Tommy tensed, going completely rigid. Wil was standing next to Techno in the kitchen. 

“Wil.” Techno warned. “You might want to wait until Innit’s explained.” 

Wil looked at Techno with questioning eyes. So he hadn’t told them.

Which meant Tommy was going to have to explain. 

Ah, shit.

“Boys, let's sit down first.” Phil said.

And so they did. Tommy and Techno sat on the big couch, and Phil and Wil on the armchairs next to them.

Tommy could feel the eyes on him, waiting. He kind of wanted to puke. His heart hammered in his chest, unreasonably fast. 

“You want me to explain?” Techno asked quietly from beside him. Tommy nodded, half hating himself for it. 

“Right, well, Innit and I met a couple days ago through coincidence. One thing led to another, and we ended up talking. Apparently, the reason he hasn’t been showing up,” Techno paused and looked to Tommy for confirmation to continue. Tommy nodded again, averting his eyes to his dark red shoes.

“Is the conversation we had last time he was here. He heard the bit that Wil said about manipulation, and everything afterwards. The kid’s been through some shit, and his brain won’t let him believe that Wil won’t hurt him.” 

Tommy heard Wil’s quiet “oh”, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. 

“It obviously affected him a lot, for reasons I don’t know. Probably his trauma or something.” 

Tommy snapped his eyes up to glare at Techno. “I do not have trauma!” He was met with Phil’s disbelieving expression, and Wil’s sad one.

“Mate, it’s painfully obvious that you have trauma. That’s perfectly okay, you know? You don’t have to deny it.” Tommy scoffed at Phil’s words and glared at his shoes again. So maybe he had a little trauma. Just a bit. ( red )

“Innit,” Wil’s voice sounded a little desperate, but determined. “How can I convince you that I’m not manipulating you?”

Tommy slowly looked up and stared.

And then stared some more. 

“Uh.” He hadn’t really expected for Wil to be so.. genuine. He had honestly kind of still believed Wil was just fake . “I don’t know.” 

Tommy hated how unsure his voice sounded.

He was supposed to be Innit! The loud, annoying, reckless Innit that was always confident, always sure of himself.

And yet, here he was, hopelessly confused and utterly lost. 

“Would it help if I showed you what I look like, without any wigs or makeup?”

Tommy shook his head violently. He was surprised that Wil was even willing to go that far, but he knew it would make his guilt rise too much.

He wanted to keep his identity a secret, if only for Tubbo. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do it if Wil of all people showed him his real face and name.

“Okay.. um… what about…” Wil paused, as if trying to come up with something. 

His eyes widened, and his hand came up to rest just beneath his collarbones.

Silence filled the room as Wil seemed to contemplate something.

After what felt like an eternity, Wil’s hands crept to the back of his neck, staying there for a moment before he pulled something shiny from underneath his shirt.

He let it dangle for a moment, his grip on it still tight.

The item in his hands was a golden chain, with a ring where a pendant would be. The ring was breathtaking, blue and green gems shimmering on a silver band.

It elicited a gasp from Phil, who seemed to know what it was almost immediately, but Tommy was clueless. Why was Wil showing him a ring?

Wil took a deep breath. “Innit, this is an engagement ring.”

And suddenly Tommy’s eyes were as wide as Phil’s.

Huh?

“A long, long time ago, I fell in love with this girl. It was back when I was still a kid, still innocent.” Wil paused. “Well, kind of. I was manipulative back then, because that was all I knew. My parents had basically made it second nature to me. But then, she came along, and changed everything.”

Wil’s knuckles were slowly turning white around the chain.

“Her name was Sally. At 18, we bought an apartment together, so I could get away from my manipulative house. She gave me a new identity, and a new name, the only one I consider my own. It was Wilbur.”

Wil smiled ruefully. “Wilbur Soot. She was killed when I was 21. The whole reason I got into this business was because I wanted revenge against the guy that ordered a hit on her.”

No one said a word as Wil- or Wilbur, Tommy supposed-, stopped to blink rapidly.

“She died only a few days before I was going to propose to her.” A small gasp left Tommy’s mouth involuntarily as the puzzle pieces finally fit in his mind.

“This is the ring I was going to propose to her with.”

Wilbur’s grip on the chain eased, and he let it pool into his other hand.

“Now, I’m not going to give this to you to keep, it’s more like… insurance, I guess. You can keep it until you trust me, if it would help.”

Tommy, for the first time in a while, was rendered speechless.

Wilbur was giving him something that precious, just so Tommy would trust him. He was really, entirely willing to trust Tommy with his own story.

Tommy stared at the palm extended towards him.

He had to admit, it would help. Wilbur wouldn’t hurt him if he knew Tommy had the ability to destroy something that precious to him. On top of that, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty because it wasn’t like it was a gift or anything like that. It was just temporary, just his until Tommy felt safe with Wilbur. (If that day ever came.)

And the fact that Wil was willing to trust Tommy with a prized possession like that already said so much .

So, he took the chain, not missing the shake exhale or the twitch of Wilbur’s palm.

A pang of guilt hit him, but he quickly squashed it down, fastening the chain behind his own neck.

He ran his thumb along the band, observing it in wonder before tucking it beneath his own hoodie.

If Wilbur was trusting him, he wouldn’t betray that trust. In fact, he was going to do everything he could to trust him right back, Tommy decided with steely determination.

He was not going to let Dream ruin anything else for him.

Chapter Text

Wilbur had expected there to be some kind of difference after the whole incident. But, well, it still hurt when he noticed it.

It still hurt to see Techno deliberately place himself between him and Innit, and it still hurt to reach up and not feel the comforting shape of an unrecieved engagement ring beneath his shirt.

It still hurt every time Innit tensed, every time he flinched or avoided Wilbur, so carefully that Wilbur wouldn’t have noticed had he not had years of experience reading other people.

Wilbur could understand it, sure. Sometimes he caught himself thinking things that, for lack of better phrasing, were disturbing as fuck . And sometimes he felt a kind of rage that really couldn’t be healthy. And sometimes he got so absorbed in his own desires that he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything around him.

Anyways-

Yeah, Wilbur could see why Innit would hesitate to trust him.

Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Wilbur wished he wasn’t so attached to the others, if only so that it wouldn’t hurt so much to watch things change before his eyes.

Hey, at least Phil still treated him the same!

“Phiiiiiillllllllll” Wilbur whined, leaning over to rest his head on Phil’s armrest. “What are you doing?” 

Phil didn’t look up from his laptop. “Nothing much, mate. Just sending out a couple emails. Scheduling some phone calls.”

“To who?” “Kinoko.” Phil mumbled, typing away without a pause. 

“Kinoko? Like the gang?” 

Phil hummed in affirmation. 

“How come?”

“Schlatt was in debt and I have to pay it off and these fuckers are stealing way too much from the mafia.”

“Can I help?”

Phil looked up, raising an eyebrow. “You want to help? You, Wilbur ‘I refuse to answer any of my thousands of emails’ Soot?”

Wilbur huffed with a glare. He’d read them eventually .

“I’m bored, okay? Unlike you, I don’t need everything to be perfectly organized to function.” 

Phil shot a glare back. “Oh you little shit, my organization is top tier and very necessary .”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “oH MEMEMEME my name is Phil and I’m going to arrange my flowers in chronological order.” 

Phil’s glare intensified as he lowered his voice to make it sound dumb. “Oh I’m Wil and I’ve never worn a matching pair of socks in my life.” 

“IT’S FASHIONABLE OKAY? OH WAIT, I GUESS YOU WOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT FASHION SINCE YOU’RE SO OLD.” 

“Oh wow, an old joke, how original WIL.” 

Innit interrupted them. “Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty. Now please, shut the fuck up and let me read.” 

Techno grunted in approval, nose buried in a book. “What he said.” 

They looked so much like brothers in the moment, Innit leaning into Techno’s side and they read.

Wibur hated it.

Wilbur wished he could be there with them, on the other side with a book of his own.

He knew he couldn’t. It was a special thing between Techno and Innit, Wilbur could tell as much, and Wilbur didn’t want to ruin that.

Besides, Wilbur would hate to see the dread in Innit’s eyes if he joined their reading lessons.

Shaking off the awful thoughts for like, the tenth time that day, what the fuck, Wilbur shot them both a glare, but quieted down. Innit was really trying with his reading, after all. Wil could see post its covering the pages of his book, faint handwriting decorating the edges.

It was nice to see that at the very least, Innit was back with them. To know he wouldn’t disappear again. 

Besides, Wilbur knew from the few times the blond would come over and link pinkies with him, not acknowledging it as he argued about some meaningless topic, that Innit was trying.

Wilbur knew Innit wasn’t going to be one of the countless friends he’d lost to his manipulative tendencies.

Wilbur knew he wasn’t going to be another kid whispering rumours in the hallways.

After a few moments of silence and mulling over some unresolved trauma, Wil was bored again. “So, can I help?” 

Phil threw his hands up in the air. “YOU LITERALLY JUST INSULTED ME!”

Phil ended up letting him help after some… choice words from Innit.

“So you have a meeting scheduled for next week?” Phil grinned, plopping back down on the couch. 

“Yep.”

“Are you sure you should go alone?” 

Wilbur was just a little worried, okay? 

“I’ll be fine, Wil.” 

“But there’s three of them and just one of you! What if something happens?”

“Wilbur, I can just run away. I’ve been doing dangerous things for years now.”

“Yeah but it’s Kinoko! They’re trained too, I bet! Just let me come with you!”

Phil sighed. “Okay, Wil. Just don’t do anything stupid.” 

“I’m comin’ too, this idiot can not hold his own against Kinoko.” Techno interjected. 

“If all of you are going then I wanna come too!” Innit shouted.

Phil buried his head in his hands, entirely defeated by- as Wilbur very indulgently referred to them in his head- his unruly children. 

“Why are you guys like this?”

----

Wilbur laughed, saturated with joy, as he jumped to the next rooftop, calling back a loud “catch me if you can!” to Innit and Techno, who were still behind. “Wilbur, slow down, I am not dragging your ass back to Phil’s if you fall and break your legs.” Techno replied. 

Wilbur just sped up, the wind raking through his hair as he ran. Blade was dumb for thinking he would just fall off like that. As if. He reached the end of the line of buildings, narrowly catching himself from falling on the edge of the rooftop.

That didn’t happen.

A couple seconds later, the others showed up next to him. They pulled their hoods up and began to climb down, avoiding windows and trying not to fall. 

Wilbur’s breath hitched in his throat as he misstepped, losing his footing and falling-

And landing butt first into the dumpster below him. 

He glared at his cackling teammates as he got up and brushed himself off, wrinkling his nose at the foul smell that stuck to him.

“Wil finally found his way back to where he belongs ay?” Innit commented after he finished laughing. 

“Oh fuck you, gremlin child.” 

“I AM NOT A-”

That was one of the things that had remained unchanged through the whole ordeal- the insults.  

“Shut up, they’ll be coming soon.” Phil hissed. 

And Phil being the only responsible one.

The four of them were standing in a dark alleyway, dressed in all black outfits except Phil, who was wearing a green hoodie. Trademark and all that, Wil supposed. 

Three figures appeared in the distance, seemingly talking about something, and then going quiet as they came closer. 

All three of them were men, each dressed wildly different from each other. The guy on the left was wearing a shirt with a fire symbol on it, hair pushed back by a strip of white cloth, dark eyes highlighted with eyeshadow that blended beautifully, like a dancing flame. Wilbur had to admit, it was very pretty. A black facemask covered the rest of his features

The man on the right was the tallest out of three, which really wasn’t saying much, because they were all pretty short. He wore a hoodie with an odd swirly design on it. He had curly hair, and purple eyes shadowed by a decorative eye mask colored the same shades as his hoodie. 

The man in the middle was… odd to say the least. He had large clout goggles that covered the top half of his face (How could he even see?) and a weird mushroom hat covered a large part of his hair. He was wearing casual clothes, just a blue, off-brand supreme hoodie and jeans, but he had a deep red cloak wrapped around his shoulders- kind of like Techno’s, but not as cool (No, Wilbur was not biased.). The part of his face that wasn’t covered was dainty and pale.

“404, Flame, Swirl, it’s nice to meet you.” Phil said, sounding oddly cold. Wilbur glanced at Phil to see him smiling, just like he usually was. For some reason, it gave him chills. 

“Phil,” the man in the middle greeted. “I was surprised to hear from you, of all people. Didn’t think Schlatt’s mafia would want anything to do with us.” Tension was heavy in the air. Everyone seemed to be on edge, just waiting for something to go wrong.

Phil laughed, and it sounded scarily warm. If Wilbur didn’t know better, he would’ve believed it was genuine. “Well, I’ve heard quite a bit about you. Besides, it’s my mafia now.”

The man’s body language didn’t change at all, showing no signs of a reaction. “That’s quite interesting, Phil. I can’t say I’m not interested to hear what you have to offer.” 

Phil put his hands in his pockets, relaxing his body further. He looked far from afraid, or even worried. “Access to the tech and weapons sold under me, as well as limited access to the information records and free reign to do what you want. Not only that, but access to backup, if it is ever needed, and access to safehouses.” 

The man hummed. “You’d be willing to offer all that in order for us to simply have our name under your organization?” 

Phil shook his head. “Not quite, 404.” Oh, that’s who it was. Should’ve guessed, honestly. Flame and Swirl were kind of.. obvious. 

“You’d have to stop attacking and stealing from anyone under this organization, and there would be a minor fee for backup and tech. We’ll say about 20% of the original fee. Plus, you’d have to do missions if I needed you to.” 

404’s posture shifted, becoming more aggressive. The other two followed suit. “Our people won’t do missions for you. Our freedom is worth more than some simple luxuries.”

“I think you misunderstand me. It won’t be a very frequent occurrence, more of an in-case-of-emergency thing. Definitely not more than one a month. Probably not even once a month.” Phil was still smiling. 

404 scowled a bit. “As nice as that sounds, my team is not interested in being subordinate to some weak mafia that’s only still running because of bribery.”

“Weak, you say?” A second later, Phil was idly twirling a knife in his hand. “Maybe once. I have greater plans. Schlatt’s mafia is mine, now.” Phil’s eyes flashed dangerously as he moved into an aggressive stance, ready to fight. “And I’m not exactly weak.”

“Really,” 404 growled, “Then why don’t you prove it to us?”

Phil raised his eyebrows, his pleasant smile still on his lips. “You want me to 3v1 you?”

404 laughed coldly. “As if you could. No, I want a fair fight. The three of us versus you and two of your buddies here.” 404 jerked his head towards them.

As stealthily as he could, Wilbur stepped in front of Innit. Couldn’t have some lanky kid fighting a trained gangster. Especially not before he forgave Wilbur.

Phil hummed. “Alright. If I win, you join us. If you win..?” 404 smiled again. Honestly, it was a pretty smile. Murderous, just like Wilbur liked it.

He snickered to himself at his own joke.

“I don’t want anything. All this is just an inconvenience anyways.”

“Cocky, are we? That’s fine. Ground rules are no weapons and no fatal injuries, alright?”

“What, are you scared? If you think you’re at risk of dying, this fight is literally pointless.”

Phil laughed again, and it gave Wilbur the chills again .

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I have someone on my team who can be… quite brutal, at times.”

404’s smile dropped. “Less talk, more fight. Pick your teammates, Phil.”

Phil pointed to Techno, and then to Wilbur. “Come on, you two.”

Wilbur stomped on Innit’s foot to quiet his whine and walked over to Techno’s side, getting into a fighting stance. 

“I’ll handle Flame quickly and take care of Swirl for you too, okay? Just hold out and don’t get too beat up.” 

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “I can fight, you know. I can beat him!”

Techno sighed. “He’s one of the leaders of Kinoko, I highly doubt that’s true.”

There was no more time to talk, as all three of the men in front of them finished their own hushed conversation, and charged.

It was absolute chaos.

Like Techno told him to, he went after Swirl. Like Techno said, it was a very, very difficult fight.

He spent what felt like an eternity just trying to keep up with Swirl’s speed, ducking and blocking as best he could. Attacking honestly wasn’t even an option for Wilbur.

The few times he had caught sight of his friend, Techno had been entirely focused on fighting Flame. That wasn’t good.

As ducked around another punch thrown his way, he caught sight of Phil, who was very quickly backing 404 into a corner.

He wove around Swirl, trying to get behind him to land a hit, but to no avail.

Wilbur gasped as a kick hit him in the stomach, stumbling backwards to try and regain his composure.

Unfortunately, that moment of weakness was all Swirl needed. 

The next punch grazed his cheek, and Wilbur felt panic start to claw at his chest.

Swirl was too strong for Wilbur. Way too strong.

The next kick landed on Wilbur’s chest. He scrambled back, panting, but it was no use. Swirl was headed towards him, just about to land a punch, when a particularly loud thud sounded. 

404 was down. Swirl was distracted. Wilbur used the opportunity to get back up, dancing out of Swirl’s reach as the man noticed his recovery.

Wilbur focused as hard as he could on dodging, but he couldn’t stop some of the kicks. He winced as he thought about the bruises on his ribs that would probably hurt like hell when the adrenaline wore off.

Another minute or so later, a second, loud thud sounded. 

Seconds later, Techno swooped in, catching Swirl’s fist as he went in for another, frantic punch. In a heartbeat, Swirl’s hands were pinned behind him, a pocket knife pressed to his neck.

“Swirl, I suggest you give up.” Wilbur hadn’t noticed until then, but Phil was standing next to him now. “Your allies are down. You can’t beat us.”

Swirl sighed, but stopped. “Alright. You win.” 

Phil grinned. “Perfect!” He pulled out two folded up pieces of paper and a pen from his pocket and handed them to Swirl. “I would’ve preferred to have all three of you sign these, but there’s really not much we can do about that.” Phil sighed, almost remorseful. “You’ll just have to sign on their behalf. If you break the contract, know that I won’t hesitate to obliderate you. Every last person. ”

Wilbur shivered, catching Swirl doing the same.

The papers were signed, one was returned, and they were off. 

“Holy shit!” Innit screeched as soon as they were out of earshot. “That was so cool, Phil! When you went all ‘ Every last person’ and you were fighting so well that 404 barely stood a chance and-” 

Phil laughed, and the slight unease in Wilbur’s chest faded. He really didn’t know what it was, but the laugh was just somehow nicer , even though it sounded nearly the same. “Mate, I wasn’t that cool!”

“You totally were!”

Wilbur was starting to think Phil was a better manipulator than he was.

Chapter Text

Phil was worried. 

Now, some people might say Phil was always worried. They wouldn’t be wrong , exactly, but this time he was extra worried.

On the surface, it didn’t seem like he had any reason to be. Wilbur and Innit had made their amends, and their dynamic had mostly gone back to normal. Wilbur, Techno and even Innit seemed to be doing fairly well.

But that was on the surface.

The moment Phil bothered to look a little deeper, their problems became glaringly obvious. Techno could not stop monitoring Innit, constantly trying to be in sight of him, trying his very best to always be near the lanky boy. Normally, Phil would think that it was sweet. 

To the level that Techno was doing it? It was just concerning. 

There were lines between protective and possessive, lines that Phil had learned about after crossing them far too many times, and Techno was toeing them very dangerously. Being overbearing was not going to help a traumatized kid- and he said as much to Techno, but it seemed his friend was having a hard time actually understanding that.

It’s not like Phil couldn’t see why, though. Over the past two weeks, Innit had become more jumpy, quieter in conversations, and frighteningly defensive of his mental state.

On top of that, he would immediately freeze up whenever he saw a knife in someone’s hand, or a particularly bright shade of red, only to pretend nothing happened seconds later. Didn’t take much of a genius to figure out that Innit had been through some shit, but what exactly he had been through was a total mystery.

The icing on the cake was the sheer amount of times Phil had seen Wilbur raise a hand to where his necklace used to be and immediately wrench his hand back when he remembered what had happened, and all the jealous looks Wilbur thought no one saw.

Frankly, he was a bit worried about himself too. He had cleaned and organized the house about 10 times in the past week alone.

So, to lighten the mood a bit and cheer them all up, Phil called all of them to have a game night on that fine Sunday evening.

He had just wanted to bond a little bit, have some fun. Maybe help his friends cope.

What he got instead was something very close to hell .

-----

“OH, YOU FUCKER.” It was the very first time Phil had heard Techno yell and swear like that. 

He slammed his hands on the table. “How are you so damn lucky?!”

Ah, that was loud, Phil had forgotten how… competitive Techno was.

Innit was rolling over on the floor, clutching his stomach as he wheezed.

Wilbur gave Techno a shit eating grin, entirely ignoring the murderous look on his face. “That’s another 8 cards, Mr. Techno Blade.”

Wilbur picked up 8 cards from the rapidly diminishing extra cards pile and placed them on Techno’s.

“Your turn.”

Techno threw his hands in the air with an annoyed huff. 

“I literally can’t hold that pile of cards in my hands, WILBUR. How. How did you manage to do this?!”

Wilbur broke character and wheezed, Phil’s laugh joining his own. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Techno’s pile probably had more cards than the extra cards pile did.

“Phil, I don’t want to play Uno anymore, Wilbur is just bullyin’ me. Can’t we play, like, battleship or something?”

Phil shrugged as Innit finally stopped wheezing and sat back on his chair. 

“Oh come on mate, we gotta finish the game! Plus, I don’t have battleship.”

Phil was really just saying that to see Techno get mad again, in all honesty.

In his defense, it was funny.

Techno stared at him for a long moment.

And then he tilted the table.

“Oh, you little shit!”

The cards fell onto the ground in a flurry as Techno smiled in satisfaction. “I think that game’s over. Next one?”

“I totally won that game.” Innit interjected.

“Oh please, you had the most cards after Techno!”

“I think you’re just jealous of my many girlfriends, Wil.”

“That has nothing to do with this at all, but I’m pretty sure you’ve never had a girlfriend in your life, Innit.”

Innit gasped in offence, already hurtling towards Wilbur with a loud “Lies and slander!”

Phil interrupted them by slamming the Ludo board onto the table. “Shut up, you fuckers . New game.”

“Yes, Phil.” They said in unison, settling back into their own chairs. 

(Also: apparently people don't know what Ludo is so here's a description:

Each player has 4 pieces, each a different color, in 4 start positions on their side of the board. The goal is to get all your pieces to the end positions, which are kind of near the start positions so you essentially have to take your pieces all the way around the board. The first to get all four wins. You move by rolling dice.

You have to roll a one or a six to get out of the start positions onto the actual like spaces where you move, and if you happen to land on a space where someone ese's piece is, their piece gets sent back to the start position- unless their piece is on a "safe space" which is marked on the board by colored space. It doesn't matter what color the space is, if a piece is on a colored space it can't be "killed". The board looks like this:

https://rukminim1.flixcart.com/image/416/416/jxm5d3k0/board-game/7/p/r/snakes-ladders-ludo-board-game-affordy-collection-original-imafgfee2bucnmru.jpeg?q=70

The spaces marked "home" are the end positions, and only the pieces of that specific color can go down the colored path to the home position, any other colored pieces just continue along the board till they reach their own colored paths.)

Ludo ended somehow worse than Uno, with the exact same situation as before, except this time reversed. 

“I will literally cut your dick off, you bitch. I hate you so much. So. Fucking. Much. ” Wilbur screeched, and oh my god Phil was going to go deaf today wasn’t he?

Techno cackled loudly, a large grin on his face. “You’re literally TRASH, oh my god, you’re so bad . I am a GOD among men and you are literally garbage under my shoe.”

Phil hadn’t heard that much glee in Techno’s voice in a long, long time.

Innit, once again, found himself on the floor, crying of laughter.

And Phil was just watching the chaos unfold, dreading having to clean up.

“Oh shut up , asshole. I would’ve won if you weren’t so much of a SORE FUCKING LOSER that you killed me like 10 times! You could’ve played the game normally like a nice person but NOOOOO you’re such a little shit that you just had to target me, huh?!”

Techno just raised his eyebrows, grin growing impossibly wider. “All I’m hearing is that you’re bad , Wilbur.”

All four of the blue pieces- Wilbur’s- sat in the start positions.

3 of the red ones- Techno’s- were in the end ones.

“You know what?” 

Wilbur flipped the board. 

Phil groaned.

“If you can do it, so can I!”

Techno tsked condescendingly. “How immature of you, Wilbur.”

“You literally did the same thing, like, 20 minutes ago!”

“Yeah, but I did it better.”

“What does that even mean ?!”

Innit spoke up from his position on the floor. “I won that one too, I think.”

“Shut up, child.” both Techno and Wilbur replied.

“I AM NOT A-”

Phil buried his head in his hands.

Why had he thought this would be a good idea?

They played Monopoly after that.

Definitely not one of Phil’s better ideas. To be fair, he didn’t really have any other games.

Techno and Wilbur yelled at each other the entire time, and while they were preoccupied Innit slowly but surely stole their money. Phil couldn’t be bothered to stop him.

They had been so close to actually finishing the game.

So fucking close.

And then Innit got caught stealing from Wil.

And all hell broke loose.

Honestly, Phil couldn’t even keep track of what happened.

Wilbur got out of his seat, the table nearly fell onto its side, and at some point Techno got to Wilbur’s side-

Long story short, the monopoly money and pieces were all over the floor, accompanying Wilbur, Techno and Innit, the former of which were mercilessly tickling the latter. Shrieks of laughter filled the room.

Phil very quickly decided that there were going to be no more games that day.

Instead, they all curled up on the big sofa in front of the TV with a big bowl of popcorn and started a movie marathon.

By 11 pm, Wilbur and Innit were fast asleep. 

The movie was still playing on a low volume in the background. Innit’s head was placed on Wilbur’s shoulder, with Wilbur’s own head right on top of his.

The two were snuggled close to each other, with Wilbur’s side still pressed lightly against Phil’s.

It was absolutely adorable .

Phil chuckled softly.

“Tech,” he called quietly, not wanting to move because of the risk of waking Wilbur and Innit. 

“Still awake?”

“Yeah.” Came the gruff reply.

“You can crash here tonight, I’m not waking Wil or Innit. Even if they do wake up and want their own rooms, I’ve got enough room for all three of you.”

“It’s alright.” Phil heard rustling. “I’ve gotta get back to Ranboo. Can’t leave the poor kid alone for the night.”

“Oh.” So Phil was a little  disappointed. Sue him. 

“Yeah.” Techno muttered apologetically. “ Don’t forget to tell Innit’s roommate about him staying over. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“I won’t. See you.”

Techno stood up and walked to the door, waving to Phil before leaving.

Phil slowly detached himself from Wil, frowning at the lack of warmth. 

He turned off the TV, basking in the silence for a bit before retrieving his fluffiest blanket. 

He shifted the two sleeping boys into more comfortable positions as gently as he could, sighing in relief when neither of them woke up, and carefully wrapped the blanket around them.

Smiling fondly, he took a couple pictures before retiring to his own bedroom.

Maybe he had succeeded after all.

Then he remembered the mess in the kitchen. 

Ah, fuck.

Chapter Text

Tubbo lazily wove the stem of the next flower into his flower crown, smiling slightly as Tommy rambled on about something that happened at the grocery store.

“She was staring at me all weird and Tubbo? Tubbo. I just know she was judging me, okay. So I stared right back and said, “What are you looking at, bitch” and-”

Tubbo laughed as Tommy continued his story, pausing his flower-crown making to look at him. Tommy was laying on his back next to Tubbo, hands waving around animatedly as he spoke even though no one was looking. 

He looked happy.

Tubbo’s smile widened. So taking a self-care day was a good idea!

And yes, that was the only reason he took a self-care day. To see Tommy happy. Not because he was jealous of Tommy’s teammates and all the fun things they got to do with Tommy. Nope.

Well, maybe a little bit. 

But it was still mostly to see Tommy happy. He always looked a little wound up, a little stressed when they were home, so Tubbo figured spending a couple dollars on a relax day wouldn’t be too much for Tommy’s sake.

After all, he would do anything for Tommy. 

To Tubbo, Tommy was everything . Tommy was more than a best friend, more than family, more than anything he could put into words. He was laughter and arguments and cuddles; he was a warm body in a cold orphanage, a beating heart in a burning building, a familiar face in an unfamiliar house.

Tommy was Tubbo’s world.

Since they first met at the orphanage as tiny 3 year olds, a well-loved child and an abandoned one, they had practically been inseparable.

So much so that Tommy’s parents ended up adopting Tubbo.

And ever since, the two of them were there for each other. They promised to be there for each other forever.

They were there for each other when their house burnt down at 5 years old, taking their parents with it. 

They were there for each other when they were adopted into an abusive home in an unfamiliar country, stuck there because their caretakers were simply too rich for the law to get them.

They were there for each other in the new, too-crowded orphanage where the big kids bullied Tubbo and the caretakers hated Tommy.

They were there for each other when they decided to run away, spending two entire years on the streets before they were brought back to the place they hated.

Tubbo should’ve been there when Tommy was taken in by Dream.

Tubbo wasn’t.

But now he was here, and he was going to do his damn best to help Tommy however he could.

Tommy was the most important thing in the universe to Tubbo, so he would go to the ends of the earth and back if it meant keeping the shaky, unstable happiness they had finally found in their life.

“-Tubbo? You listening?” Tubbo was startled out of his daze by Tommy’s tap on his leg. 

“Sorry bossman, I zoned out.” 

“Oh, alright. What did you hear last?” 

“The part where you called her a bitch.” 

Tommy’s eyes sparkled. “So you didn’t hear the part where I punched her right in her judgy ass face?”

Tubbo laughed. “No, but I’d absolutely love to.”

------

Adjusting the ridiculously messy yellow flower crown on his head with one arm, Tubbo continued with his story. 

“And then I told her ‘If my dyslexia isn’t an excuse for me to not read the big complicated words in this literal novel in front of the whole class, your broken arm isn’t an excuse for you not to grade our projects and exams.’” 

Tubbo paused, licking his chocolate ice cream as Tommy muttered a “damn right.” before continuing. 

“Well maybe I didn’t word it exactly like that, but yeah. She had no response other than to send me to the principal's office.” 

Tubbo rolled his eyes in exasperation at the memory. “So now you have to dress up as my dad again to meet with my principal about my ‘bad behavior.’”

Tommy groaned, biting into his cookies and cream ice cream as his beautifully done (Tubbo was allowed to be a little proud okay-)  red flower crown slipped down a bit from where it was placed. Yes, biting. It’s Tommy, what did you expect? Him licking it like a normal person? PFFFFF.

“But the moustache is so fucking itchy, big man. Can’t I just send her an email or some shit?” 

Tubbo shrugged, leaning back against the bench. “I mean, you could try , but you know our teachers.”

Tommy sighed, leaning back as well. “That I do, Tubs. That I do.”

----------

Tubbo tucked the purple flower crown he had made for Ranboo into the front pocket of his backpack as Tommy put their takeout from Pizza Hut on their dining table. 

Well, it couldn’t really be called a dining table, it was honestly just a tiny elevated wooden circle placed in front of their only couch, but it was good enough for the two of them.

Tubbo sat himself down next to Tommy and grabbed a slice of pizza, stopping to chew his first bite before speaking. “I’ll be at Ranboo’s probably the entire day, maybe the night if we lose track of time tomorrow.”

Tommy swallowed down his own bite, refusing to look at Tubbo. “Alright.” 

A weird silence fell over them as they ate. Tubbo didn’t really understand why it felt so awkward . He and Tommy were almost never awkward.

But, to his relief, Tommy interrupted the silence after only a few minutes. “Phil said he’d let me borrow the DVDs he has of movies, so I can probably bring those home soon.”

“Oh really? Which ones does he have?” Tubbo was not annoyed at the fact that Phil could give Tommy nice gifts like that so easily and Tubbo couldn’t. He was not jealous.

“Uhhh I think he said Moana was one of them? Spirited Away, too, I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh, I’ve watched both of those with Ranboo already.”

It was only after Tommy started staring at his feet in the way Tubbo knew he only stared when he was upset that Tubbo realized how his reply sounded.

Tubbo really shouldn’t have said that. It sounded like he was rejecting Tommy’s offer and he wasn’t, he still wanted to watch the movies with him! Tommy had never taken rejection well, oh fuck, Tubbo messed up-

“I mean, I can always rewatch them with you-”

But it was no use. Tommy kept staring, biting into his pizza aggressively. 

“Tommy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t want to watch movies with you, I just said the wrong thing I guess. I’d love to rewatch them with you!”

“Go rewatch them with Ranboo. ” Tommy muttered.

Tubbo blinked. And he blinked again. Did he have this all wrong?

“Tommy, are you jealous?” Tubbo couldn’t keep the surprise out of his house. 

“Am not, dickhead.” Tommy huffed, in the exact way Tommy huffed whenever he had been found out.

“Aww, Tommy, it’s okay to be jealous, you’re still my best friend!” Tubbo couldn’t keep his giggle from spilling out because awwwww his best friend was such a tsundere. Tommy’s cheeks reddened. 

“Shut up Tubbo, I’m not jealous.”

Tubbo laughed softly. “I get jealous too, you know.” Tommy finally looked at him, surprise painted all over his face. 

“You do?”

Tubbo hummed. “Mhm, I get jealous of Wil and the others all the time. I just kind of hate that they seem to make you happier than I can.” 

Tommy stared at him, wide-eyed. “You make me just as happy, if not happier than they do Tubbo!” Tommy hesitated. 

“But I feel that way about Ranboo too…”

Tubbo just sighed, shifting a tad bit closer to Tommy to try and offer some comfort. “I guess it’s just been the two of us for so long that it’s hard to share, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Chapter Text

Wilbur glared at his translucent follower, already feeling a headache beginning to form. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked, absolutely exasperated.

“Hi Wilbur! I missed you so much!” The blue spirit chirped, an annoyingly cheery smile brightening his face.

“Leave me alone!”

“Aw, you don’t mean that! Where are we going?”

“ We are not going anywhere, I am going to meet my friends.”

The spirit gasped, clapping his hands like a giddy child. “More friends? That’s amazing, I can’t wait to meet them!”

“They’re my friends!”

“Your friends are my friends!”

“I have no idea who the fuck you are!” 

Ghostbur blinked, and with the same, never-changing smile, said. “I’m you, of course.”

Okay. Okay, what the FUCK, how did Wilbur’s life get to this point, why was this annoyingly happy spirit able to say something as ominous and weird as that like it was nothing, oh my god he was freaking out wasn’t he-

Ghostbur leaned in uncomfortably close to Wilbur’s face with big, innocent eyes and said, “Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine.” Wil gritted out, glaring at the blue ghost(?)

Ghostbur pulled back. “Let’s go see our friends then!”

“For the last fucking time, they’re MY friends, not yours!”

------

“Hello friends!” Ghostbur said to a room of staring criminals.

Wilbur buried his face in his hands. “Please kill me now.”

“Uh.” Techno said eloquently. “What.”

“I’m Ghostbur!” Ghostbur continued, entirely ignorant to the painful awkwardness in the room. “I’m Wilbur’s best friend!”

“You are not .” Wilbur hissed.

“...Nice to meet you, mate.” Phil greeted politely, because Phil was nice like that.

“It’s nice to meet you too, green man!”

“Phil is fine.”

“So. Why is Wilbur’s ghost twin here again?” Techno asked.

“I just wanted to meet Wilbur’s friends, pretty hair man!”

“..Thanks? I’m Techno.”

Wilbur sighed, finally looking up from his hands. 

“This motherfucker decided to follow me here. Considering the fact that I literally cannot touch him, I couldn’t do shit about it.”

“Ah.” Techno said understandingly. “Makes sense.”

“Ay, Ghostbur, what’s the worst word you know?” Innit said, a shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“Probably vore.” Ghostbur said, like that was a perfectly normal thing to admit.

Wilbur was going to cry.

Silence spread, thick and awkward, through the room until,

“What’s vore?” Innit asked, very confused.

“Well, it’s-”

“Don’t you DARE.” Wilbur screeched, mortified at the idea of his baby brother knowing what vore was.

-----

“So, do you have a girlfriend?” Innit asked cheekily.

“No.” Came the carefree answer.

“What about a wife?”

“Wives don’t exist.” Ghostbur replied, in his ever-casual way of speaking.

“Ghostbur, what the fuck.”   Why was it always Wilbur who ended up in these situations?

-----

“What’s your favorite type of boob? Mine is all of them.”

Innit was having way too much fun with this.

Wilbur shoved a cookie in the immature child’s mouth to shut him up.

“Sheep boob, of course!” 

Wilbur was regretting every decision that had led him to that moment.

----

Finally, it was time for Wilbur to get to his job, meaning he could finally get Ghostbur the fuck away from Innit.

“Bye everyone! It was great to hang out, friends! Here, have some blue as a parting gift.”

The spirit pulled out some weird blue goo from his pockets and began happily dropping a little of it into everyone’s hands, ignoring their disgusted looks.

Yeah, Wilbur was really fucking glad they could just leave and get to the prison already.

Oh wait.

He was going to have to take Ghostbur to his job-

Chapter Text

It was a good day.

A day where satisfaction sat curled in his gut like a cat and the buzz of excitement, of enthusiasm and happiness lingered in his system.

Yeah, it was a good day. 

Good days seemed to be happening more and more often for Tommy, and he absolutely adored it.

Sure, he still hated knives with a passion and too much blood made him shut down entirely, but he was doing better.

He could talk to Tubbo without the discomfort of bad memories now! And red barely even phased him anymore, which was pretty nice.

Tubbo had even come to accept the fact that maybe Wilbur wasn't evil after a long, long talk, and Tommy’s nightmares had gone from daily to once every couple days.

Things were good.

Tommy twisted the key and opened the door with a click, still giddy after a lively day with Tubbo and Ranboo at the annual 4th of July carnival. Atrociously seasoned hot dogs and disgustingly sweet cakes  (All of which were bought with Ranboo’s pocket money.) filled his stomach, a pleasant phantom weight that made him feel all warm inside resting on his shoulders.

He felt amazing.

Their resident moth flew over to Tommy and sat on his nose, making Tommy giggle a bit. “Just a second, Clementine , I’ll get you some food.” 

He slipped his shoes off and poured a bit of rice into a bowl, setting it on the table and watching happily as the moth began to eat.

Tubbo walked in and collapsed on the couch, the bee plushie that Ranboo had won him still clutched in his hands. 

“We’re really keeping the moth?”

“Her name is Clementine and you will refer to her as such, bee boy.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes and sighed.

“I am not ruining my good mood by arguing with you over a fucking moth.”

“ Clementine , you prick.”

Tubbo’s reply was interrupted by Tommy’s ringtone. That’s what I Like rang out loudly for a few seconds as Tommy fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket. “Hi Phil, what’s up?”

“Just wondering if you wanted to come hang for a bit tonight, mate. I was planning on getting together, watching the fireworks, and setting off a couple of our own.” 

Tommy brightened, eyes shining excitedly at the thought of setting off his own fireworks. “Are the others coming?”

“Wil is, haven’t asked Tech yet.”

“I’ll be-”

Tommy stopped in his tracks, remembering that he was supposed to watch the fireworks with Tubbo. 

“I have to check something, I’ll call you back about it later.”

“Alright mate, I’ll go talk to Tech.”

A beep sounded, signifying the end of the call. 

“Tubbboooo.”  Tommy dragged out, tendrils of guilt beginning to work their way into his mind. Really, it was fine, right? Tubbo would do the same for Ranboo, right?

He wasn’t being a bad friend, right?

“Yes, Tommy?” Tubbo sighed.

“Can I go set off fireworks with Phil and the otherssss?”

“Will you be staying over?”

“Judging from all the other times Phil has invited me over? Probably.”

Tubbo hummed. “Alright, I’ll probably get to have a sleepover with Ranboo anyways.”

Tommy ignored the pinprick of jealousy he felt in favor of cheering. Tubbo deserved to have some fun of his own while Tommy was away. Plus, that shut the guilt up real fucking quick.

“Thanks, big man!” 

“Hurry up, if you miss the 8 o’clock bus you won’t be able to go. I am not letting you spend money on a taxi.”

“Yes, sir, Tubbo sir.”

“Shut up, prick.”

----

“Phil, are you goin’ to murder us?” 

“Of course not mate, why would you even ask that?”

“Well,” Techno said dryly, “You drove us to an empty forest in the dark. And you’re an assassin. Does that not sound suspicious to you?” 

Wilbur nodded sagely. “Phil is sus. Vote him out.”

Phil groaned in exasperation. “First of all, you know I brought you here to look at fireworks. And second of all, STOP WITH THE FUCKING AMONG US REFERENCES.”

“I don’t think I will.”

Tommy grinned. “Phil, did you vent?” 

“He can’t vent,” Wilbur said seriously. “He’s too old. His bones would break if he tried.” 

“That is very true Wilbur.” Techno said.

The one thing that the three of them enjoyed most was making fun of Phil. Why? Because he was an old, old man with brittle bones and that deserved to be made fun of, of course.

“I hate all of you.”

“You loooove us.” Wilbur sang.

-----

Tommy had to admit, the spot Phil brought them to was amazing .

Or it would be, if not for the mosquitoes that kept biting him.

The little clearing on top of the hill gave them a beautiful view of the outskirts of L’manberg. It looked almost like a sanctuary, a pocket of heaven. Serene, cool, surrounded by trees and animals and flowers.

It would be perfect, if not for the devil spawn that kept biting Tommy.

And only Tommy.

“Why won’t these fuckers just bite you guys instead?!” The blonde screamed in annoyance.

Wilbur laughed at his pain like the dickhead he was. 

“They just like you better, Innit.” 

Tommy glared, swatting yet another mosquito away. 

Phil chuckled, pulling some kind of little bottle out of his backpack. “Rub the tips on your shoulders and ankles. Smells like shit, but it keeps the mosquitoes away.” 

“Phil, you are the most poggers man ever. Every man is a wrongen, except for you.”

Tommy did what Phil said, sighing in relief when the bugs stopped constantly trying to bite him. 

“If I’m so great, please stop calling me old.” 

“Phil, you are a god among men. And you of all people should know this Phil, but God is very old.”

Phil just sighed, setting a blanket down on the grass. “Alright, we’ve got 30 minutes till the fireworks start, who wants snacks?”

“ME.” All three of them said at the same time. 

“I swear to god, all of you act like children.”

Phil pulled out a pack of gummy worms, bags of popcorn, a bag of doritos, and some juice boxes. 

“If we’re children, then you’re like our dad.” Wilbur said, grabbing a bag of popcorn. 

“That would mean we’re like brothers, Wil!” Tommy teased, jabbing the older man in the side.

“Don’t say that, I will cry.”

“... In a good way or a bad way?”

Wilbur didn’t respond, just shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“You guys know that Phil is legally my dad right?” Techno interjected.

“I’m sorry, what? ” Wilbur spat out a piece of popcorn, coughing a bit. Techno raised his eyebrows. 

“Did that never come up?”

“NO!”

Phil groaned. “Don’t tell them please.” 

Snorting, Techno started to rip open the bag of dortitos. “The story is more embarrassin’ for me than it is for you, Phil.”

“If you tell me I’ll get more of those British chocolates you liked.”

Techno grinned. “It’s a deal, Wilbur. Honestly, the story isn’t that good.” 

“Tell me.”

“Well, when I was like 17, I got assigned a hit on Phil. Back then I had no idea of his reputation. I was still this little, weak teen, right. So I took the job. And then, when Phil saw me, he went all soft and mushy.”

“I did not!”

“He went all soft and mushy and captured me without even bruising me. And then adopted me like, 6 months later.”

Tommy snickered. “So Phil has always been a dad, huh?”

“I will just leave you here. Don’t think I won’t.” 

“Okay, dad.” Wilbur said with a chuckle. 

Phil glared. “Maybe I won’t give you those fireworks after all.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Wait Phil no-”

---------

“OH!” Wilbur exclaimed, setting down his juice box. “I just remembered!” 

Tommy paused his own sipping curiously. “What’s up, Wil?” 

The brunette grinned, pulling out little boxes from his backpack.  “I brought cotton candy from the fair!”

Tommy grabbed all the cotton candy after putting down his juice box.

“Mine now.”

“You’re such a little gremlin child.” 

“Cotton candy is good , okay?”

In their bickering, neither of them noticed Phil reaching into his own bag. Suddenly, an assortment of glow stick jewelry was laid out on their picnic blanket. “Suit up, boys. For the full 4th of July experience. Fireworks are starting soon.”

Not to toot his own horn, but Tommy was rocking the glow stick jewelry. 

“Look at my swag, you guys!” He exclaimed giddily, wiggling his fingers in front of Wilbur’s face to show off all his cool jewelry. 

Three necklaces hung from his neck, each glowing a different color. Each of his wrists had two bracelets, and all his fingers were lined with rings.

Wilbur chuckled. “You look ridiculous, Innit.” 

“I think you meant fabulous , big man.” 

“I am fairly sure I-”

A boom and a crackle interrupted them, making Tommy yelp and the others laugh. “Sit down,” Phil said. “The fireworks have started!”

Quickly, Tommy took a seat next to Techno, mouth hanging wide open as he observed the breathtaking sight. He could see the fireworks clearly from his spot, and it was beautiful, to say the least.

An assortment of colors decorated the night sky, lighting up the dark blue and illuminating fluffy clouds, creating a stunning sight.

Tommy was rendered speechless.

-----

Tommy chucked a handful of pop-pop’s at Wilbur’s feet, cackling when one singed his shoe. 

“Innit, stop it!”

Wilbur glared and chucked some back, only for Tommy to step out of the way and cackle even louder. 

“Boys, can’t you just be civilized ?”

“At least we’re not chucking them at rabbits and squirrels like Techno is.” Somewhere from the forest, a loud laugh was heard. Tommy shuddered at how downright evil it sounded. 

“What did I even expect, honestly?”

Tommy took the opportunity to throw some more of the little explosives at Wilbur’s feet, grinning at the new round of shouting.

A minute or so later, Techno walked back towards them, a feral grin on his face.

Tommy scooted closer to Phil.  

“Phil, did you bring any more of those?” Techno asked, far too eagerly for Tommy’s comfort.

“You already finished both of the boxes?” Phil replied, probably wondering where he went wrong raising Techno .

“So you didn’t bring more?”

“No, and I’m honestly glad I didn’t.”

“Can we do the big ones then?”

“You know what?” Phil sighed. “Sure.”

(For the people that don’t know what pop pop’s((also called pop it’s sometimes)) are, bcuz that might also be a country thing- they’re really little things filled with mildly explosive material that basically cracckle and ‘blow up’ a little bit when you throw them against the ground

https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0574/0888/0830/products/pop-pop-snappers.jpg?v=1623076537

Each of them explode with like a small pop and a little burst of light, they’re pretty harmless tho.)

---

Phil was wiping his hands as he walked towards them casually, turning back and grinning as two brilliant green fireworks shot high into the sky with a bang and fizzled out.

“Who wants to go next?”

“Me, me, me!” Tommy screeched, bouncing on his heels and waving his arm in the air with excitement.

Phil handed him a box (??? Idk how fireworks work and I am too lazy to do extensive research rn) with a smile. “Don’t get scared okay?” 

“I am a big man, Phil.”

“Mhm.”

Tommy grinned excitedly as he placed the box next to Phil’s, eyes widening as the fuse he lit started to crackle loudly. He cursed loudly and incoherently as he scrambled back to the others, glaring at his laughing friends.

A second later, a  bright white streak shot across the sky, exploding into various particles, almost like a dandelion. He gasped in delight.

“Fuckin’ hell Phil, that was so poggers!” He said, pouring as much sincerity as he could into the words.

“Thanks, Innit.” Phil said, smiling softly when he caught Tommy’s eye.

Tommy felt warmth well up inside him, melting his insides, making him want to cry from how loved he felt right then.

“I’ll go next.” Techno said, interrupting the moment. “You guys have made me wait long enough.”

Phil rolled his eyes but handed Techno a box as the searing warmth settled into something softer, more like contentment. A minute or so later, brilliant golden particles fired outwards from just above the treetops, turning into soft red as they extended further out.

Tommy couldn’t keep his eyes away from them.

“That one was my favorite.” Techno said smugly.

“I knew it would be, that’s why I got it for you.” Phil said with a fond little smile.

“Awwwww dad, how sweet of you.” Wilbur teased. 

Phil groaned. “On second thought, Wilbur is not getting his box.” 

“No, dad, I’m sorry-”

“You are just digging yourself a bigger hole.”

“Pleaaaaseee Phil?”

Phil sighed. “Alright, you fucker.”

Wilbur was handed his box. He immediately scampered off, calling a “Thanks dad!” behind him. 

“Fuck you!” Phil yelled back.

Tommy was laughing, but his attention was immediately drawn to the various blue particles that cascaded down from the sky, almost like a waterfall.

Where the fuck did Phil find these?

“Holy shit, Phil, you’re the best!” Wilbur cheered. “I loved that.”

Phil laughed softly. “Thanks, mate. I tried!”

And in that moment, laughter and adrenaline and love floating in the air so freely, wrapping around Tommy like the world’s softest backet, Tommy realized that maybe Niki had been right, all along.

He closed his eyes and sighed, letting himself wallow in the happiness that swallowed him, drowned him in it’s sugary depths and warmed him right to the bone.

As long as he had his friends, his family , by his side, he could figure it out. 

As long as he could have this, everything would be just fine.

-----

(An extended scene, from Phil’s POV:

They decided to head back around 11 pm.

It was only a 30 minute drive back, but by the time Phil parked his car, all the others were asleep.

So maybe he was a little bit like a dad.

He gently shook Techno awake, chuckling as he groaned. “Staying over tonight?”

“Mhm.” Techno replied with a yawn. 

Phil smiled fondly for what felt like the millionth time that day.

Gods, he really was going soft wasn’t he?

“Get up then, we’re home.”)

(A Conclusion to the ghostbur bit bcuz i thought of this at 3 am and couldn’t not write it:

Wilbur groaned as he opened his eyes, blearily wondering what had woken him up.

Well, until he turned around as met with the upside down face of his blue ghost twin.

Wilbur screeched and scrambled away rather unceremoniously, staring at the innocent eyes of the ghost standing on his ceiling. 

“Ghostbur, what the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I was just watching over you while you slept!” Ghostbur replied happily. 

“Dude, that's so creepy.”

 The blue spirit frowned. “Is it?”

Absolutely exhausted, Wilbur ran a hand through his hair and sighed. 

“Yes, it is.”

“Oh.”

When Ghostbur didn’t move at all, Wilbur decided that his sleep schedule was really way too fucked to damage it any further and moved to get back under his covers.

That was when Ghostbur decided to speak up, the solemnness in his tone forcing Wilbur’s attention onto him. “Hey, Wilbur, do you like me?”

With more hesitance and uncertainty than Wilbur had ever seen the spirit exhibit, Ghostbur continued. 

“Are we… are we friends?”

Wilbur was tempted to deflect, to make a joke or ignore the question, but for whatever reason, he decided to take his ghost buddy seriously. 

“Yeah, we’re friends, Ghostbur.”

“Oh.” 

For a moment, Ghostbur didn’t react, but then he gave Wilbur one of the happiest smiles he had ever worn- which was really saying something- and sighed happily. 

“It was really nice hanging out with you and the others, Wilbur.”

That was when Wilbur, in his sleepy state, noticed it; the translucency of Ghostbur’s body becoming more and more prominent, almost as if the spirit was fading.

“I’ll see you later, friend.” Ghostbur said warmly, as the last of his body flickered out of existence.

Wilbur didn’t know why his heart ached for the spirit that was only ever supposed to be an annoyance.)

Chapter Text

The world, Wilbur realized for the hundredth time, really didn’t like him.

Honestly, could he not catch a break? Just as things were getting good, becoming fun and wonderful and stable, the world threw this fucking curveball at him.

The worst part of it was that he knew what the right decision was; he just despised the fact that he would have to make it.

Because Wilbur had finally, finally found the information they needed to carry out the heist once and for all.

And he had to tell the others about it.

But the thing was, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to do it. Every time Wilbur opened up his mouth to spill his guts, the insecurities and fears would slam into him and make it impossible for him to say a word. 

He was being unreasonable, he knew that, but Wilbur desperately wanted to keep what he had.

He was happy for the first time since Sally had died.

Wilbur had people that didn’t think he was weird or childish or immature for his humor and his personality, people who he really trusted, despite all his initial wariness. 

People he didn’t feel like he had to act around.

And Wilbur was terrified that he was going to lose it all the moment Phil had what he wanted. 

After all, that’s what they met for, wasn’t it? They rarely ever discussed heist-related things anymore, but Wil knew none of them had forgotten the reason they all gathered at Phil’s home every other day.

He wasn’t stupid.

He remembered how happy Phil was every time he brought more information to them, how excited he had been when they first got the schematics.

Wilbur knew Phil would be ecstatic if he found out the news.

Wilbur also knew that none of them would be obligated to show up after the heist was done with.

And that scared him more than he’d like to admit. 

He didn’t want to lose touch with Phil or Innit or Techno. He didn’t want to go back to the way he had been living before he agreed to take the job.

But he also didn’t want to keep Phil from what he seemed to want so intensely.

“Hey Phil,” Wilbur asked carefully, letting his toes curl into the grass under his feet and ground him “What’s in the vault anyways?”

Phil stopped watering the bushes for a second, expression flickering to one of sadness briefly before resuming his actions a moment later. “Something my fiance left me before she died, apparently.” He said softly.

Wilbur wasn’t sure what he had wanted to hear, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“Oh.”

“Why’d you want to know, mate?”

In that split second, Wilbur made his decision, and forced the words out before he could overthink it. “I found out something important.”

Phil set the watering can down and took a seat next to Wilbur on the patio. “What did you find?”

Wil brought his nails to his lips, sighing when Phil batted his hand away. “Everyone should hear it.”

Phil raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Innit, Techno!” Phil called loudly. “Stop with your sparring and come to the garden!”

“Coming, Phil!” Innit shouted in reply. 

It took more time than Wilbur would’ve liked for the others to join them.

It felt like any second now, his throat would close up and he would lose every bit of progress he had made in the past minutes.

“Go on then, Wil.” Phil said with an encouraging smile. 

A part of Wilbur eased, while another tightened.

You might see the last day you get that smile pretty soon, his brain told him treacherously.

Wilbur took a deep breath and dug his toes deeper

“I know where Sam’s office is.” His words were followed by two gasps and a surprised grunt. 

“Really?!” Phil asked, beaming at Wilbur with a wide smile.

An ugly feeling churned in his gut, making Wilbur swallow to keep it down before it could wreck everything.

“Yeah. Not only that, I know how to get in, who guards it, and where the all-access card is kept.”

“Wilbur, that's so amazing! I can’t believe you actually pulled it off! I’m so proud of you. We can actually get the heist done now!” Phil sounded so excited it made Wilbur’s heart hurt, straining his smile as he fought down the lump in his throat and tried to quiet the rapid sound of his heartbeat in his ears. 

“Yeah. We can.”

“So,” Phil said energetically, “tell us more!”

“Sam’s office is inside the prison,” Wilbur started, trying to ignore the panic clawing at him. “It’s guarded by a guy named Ponk. It has this big high-tech door and the all-access key was inside a box in the room. Like I mentioned a couple weeks ago, he has full access to the alarm system from the PC in his office.”

Everyone held their breath. Wilbur thought he could see some of his own sadness on Innit’s face.

“He used this red card and his fingerprint to open the door.”

Innit gasped at the same time as Phil. He took his phone out of his pocket and fiddled with it for a second before shoving it in Wilbur’s face. “Did it look like this?”

The picture was an exact replica of the card.

“Yes, actually. How’d you even get that picture?” Surprise helped ward off the horrible emotions roaring inside Wilbur for a few brief moments.

Innit puffed up proudly. “It’s from the time we snuck into Sam’s house!”

Phil exhaled, eyes glittering enthusiastically.

“This is very literally perfect. All we need is a way to hack into the security system and get Sam’s fingerprint and we’ll be good!”

Innit scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry Phil, I think that might be a bit too hard for my roommate.”

Phil turned to Wilbur questioningly. “You know someone, don’t you?”

Wilbur almost laughed out loud when he thought about how Fundy would react to being asked this, the panic finally beginning to recede a bit now that the hard part was over. 

“I mean, yeah, but he’s a little bitch. If he accepts, he’ll probably ask for a shit ton of money.”

“Wilbur, I’m way richer than any of you know.”

Wilbur raised his eyebrows. Sure, Phil was rich, but he couldn’t be that rich right? 

“I’ll ask.”

“Actually,” Phil said. “How about we have Innit’s roommate and your guy work together? Maybe they’ll actually be able to pull it off then.”

Wilbur shrugged. He hadn’t spoken to Fundy in a while. Maybe it would be a nice distraction from the inevitable overthinking he would do later.

“I’ll ask.” He repeated.

“I will too!” Innit said.

-----

Wilbur knocked loudly on Fundy’s door, calling out to him in the most annoying voice he could make.

“Fundyy,” He sang, “It’s me, your dear ol’ dad!”

For a minute, the only sounds audible were the chirping of crickets and the muffled rustling and occasional thumps inside Fundy’s house.

Then, the door swung open harshly, revealing a lanky, ginger haired man that glared at Wilbur like he wanted nothing more than to tear his head off right then and there.

Wilbur plastered a smile onto his face even as his eyes slid over familiar fiery hair and a dainty nose dotted with freckles.

The same, familiar bitterness that always came with seeing Fundy rose up again, nostalgia and longing for the same features on a different face making his heart clench.

He had been so naïve to assume his emotions would actually leave him alone for once; he really should’ve known he would never stop seeing Sally whenever he saw Fundy.

He should’ve known there was no way it would stop hurting so easily.

Wilbur met Fundy’s dark brown eyes and let his grin widen, focusing on one of the only features of Fundy’s that was different from Sally’s to shove his feelings down.

“How are you, Funds?” Wilbur asked lightly, genuinely curious to know how his adopted son was doing. “Doing well?”

“ I would be better if you left and came back at a time that isn’t 3 am, Wilbur.” Fundy said, his sleep-thick voice filled to the brim with annoyance.

“Awww come on, you’re going to be like that to your own dad? After he just got off work? How rude of you.” Wilbur teased, yawning for the extra effect.

Fundy’s glare didn’t waver, his attempt to intimidate Wilbur failing miserably because really, how did Fundy expect Wilbur to take him seriously when the man was wearing bunny print pyjamas?

“You are not  my dad. I think I would kill myself if you were.” The ginger grumbled.

Wilbur frowned jokingly. “That’s not what the papers say~” He said in a sing-song voice. 

He exaggerated a sigh. “Won’t you invite your poor, poor father in?”

“Wilbur, I am 21. You’re 24. I am not acknowledging someone 3 years older than me as a father figure.” Fundy deadpanned.

Wilbur groaned, relenting. Damn that stubbornness- it really did run in the family, huh?

“At least let me in, it’s fucking freezing!” He whined. He wasn’t lying; the harsh wind bit at his face and made pinpricks of discomfort rise across his body.

Fundy sighed and dragged his hand over his face, but stepped to the side in a silent invitation.

Wilbur took it easily, rushing into the warm house and immediately throwing himself onto the plush sofa, letting warmth soak into his bones with a sigh of relief. The door closed softly as Fundy made his way to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water. 

“So,” Fundy said, turning to Wilbur again. “What brings you here at this ungodly hour?”

Chapter Text

Tommy clipped the voice mod over his face, sighing as the heaviness of the metal settled over his mouth oppressively. 

Honestly, why did Wil ask to have his friend negotiate with Phil directly? Hiding his face was a pain in the ass.

By the slight downturn of Techno’s lips, he was pretty unhappy about it too. (It had been so long since Tommy had seen Techno and Phil in their masks he had forgotten how hard it was to read their faces with them on.)

The doorbell rang.

The door opened.

Tommy stared.

What was it with people that Tommy knew and walking into the houses he least expected them to be at?

Right beside Wilbur was a tall, ginger-haired man wearing a fox-like mask, complete with the fox ears and everything. The lower half of his face was covered by a large, mask-like contraption.

Almost identical to Tommy’s.

That was Fundy. It had to be. 

“Everyone, this is Nether. (Cuz he’s from the Netherlands. I COULDN’T THINK OF ANYTHING OK T.T) . Nether, this is the Angel of Death, Innit, and the Blade.”

Phil smiled. “Pleased to meet you, mate.”

Tommy stopped staring to cough a bit. “Uh, yeah, nice to meet you, I gotta go pee-”

He hurried off to the bathroom, locking it behind him and furiously searching for Tubbo’s contact. 

“Bee,” Tommy hissed as soon as Tubbo picked up. “We have a problem.”

“What happened?”

“You know how I told you about Wil bringing his friend to do the whole hacking thing?”

“Yeah?”

“His friend is fucking Fundy.”

Tommy heard a gasp and then some cursing on the other end. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“That fucker! He’s alive, and not even in jail, and he didn’t bother to contact me?”

Tubbo sounded hurt and angry, and Tommy couldn’t help but share the sentiment, even though Tubbo had known Fundy much better.

“What should I do, Bee?”

“Bring him here. Tell Phil I agreed to his thing. I want to see that bitch and punch him myself.”

Despite the venom dripping from Tubbo’s voice, Tommy laughed a bit. “Seeing that is going to be a blast.”

The line went dead. 

Tommy flushed the toilet, just to be a little less suspicious, and went outside again. He couldn’t help but laugh at the sight in front of him. 

Fundy was half-hiding behind Wilbur, staring at Phil in abject fear as the other man just stood there with a cold smile on his face. 

Even though Tommy knew that Phil was definitely scary, seeing Fundy so terrified of the man who had cried when one of his crows died barely a few weeks ago was hilarious.

Unfortunately, his laugh drew everyone’s attention to him. Including Fundy’s. Which meant Fundy was now looking at his mask with wide eyes. 

As he opened his mouth to speak, Tommy interrupted him. “So, did you guys reach an agreement already?”

Wilbur snorted. “Yep. Nether’s a pussy, so Phil scared him into taking the job for 200k.”

“Well, Bee agreed to it for 100k but if F-Nether is getting more, then I want my roommate to get that much too.”

His slip up had both Wilbur and Fundy staring at him intensely. Well, fuck.

“Sure, mate. Not a problem. I’ll send the contract home with you today!”

“Actually,” Tommy said as casually as he could, “Bee wants to meet his partner. In person.”

Phil shrugged, glancing at Tommy curiously. “I mean, if Nether agrees, sure. You can go after I brief Nether on the details.”

‘Nether’ broke his stare to nod. “I’ll go.”

It took an entire hour for Phil to ‘brief Nether on the details.’ Which Tommy honestly expected. Phil was a giant overpreparer.

“C’mon, fox boy, get in the car and drive.”

“Innit, that’s Wilbur’s car.”

Tommy shrugged. “He can take the bus.”

“I don’t have the keys.”

“Ay dickhead!” Tommy screamed into the house from where he was standing on the porch with Fundy. “I need your car keys!”

“I need them too, child!” Wilbur shouted back

“Shut up and take the bus, pussy!” Fundy winced, covering his ears.

Rude.

“Why would I do that, it’s literally MY CAR!”

“I need it more than you do anyways!”

Their screaming match was interrupted by Phil, who sounded absolutely exhausted. 

“Mate, just take my car. Please return it though. For the love of god, please don’t forget to return it.”

Phil came over to the door and placed the keys in Fundy’s hand as the latter nodded furiously. “I won’t forget. No matter what. Please don’t kill me.”

Tommy snorted. Fundy was really that scared of Phil? Phil, who baked them cookies every week and fussed over the lightest of bruises? Ridiculous.

Phil chuckled a bit as Fundy very quickly backed away and headed to where the car was parked.

Coming home with bitchboy, Tommy texted Tubbo as he walked slowly behind ginger.

-------

To put it nicely, the journey to Tommy’s apartment was awkward. The only time either of them spoke was when Tommy had to tell Fundy where to go, and Fundy looked like he wanted to say something the entire time, but never said a word.

So yeah. Awkward.

They finally got to Tommy’s place, Fundy observing the complex with poorly hidden disgust. With the amount of mold creeping up the walls, it was honestly pretty fair. 

The door clicked open, revealing Tubbo sitting on the couch expectantly, staring right at them like some kind of movie villain. Tommy half-expected him to say something along the lines of ‘I’ve been expecting you.’ and then smile cryptically, but that didn’t happen.

Instead, Fundy gasped, Tubbo got up, walked over to them, and fucking decked  Fundy right in the jaw. Tommy couldn’t stop laughing at the look on the older man’s face. 

“Tubbo?” The atmosphere turned somber, and Tommy’s amusement faded. 

“Fuck you, Fundy!” Tubbo screamed, angry tears beginning to pool in his eyes. 

“I thought you were DEAD or in jail, or something, and I still looked for you. I looked for you for so fucking long. I went back to the apartment every single week after the police finally left, hoping that by some miracle you were there. You never were. I was alone for MONTHS, Fundy. You promised me you’d help me find Tommy. YOU PROMISED! But you just left , and you never came back for me .”

Tears were streaming down Tubbo’s face freely now, his voice losing it’s volume near the end of his rant, but retaining the hurt and anger. 

Tommy wanted nothing more than to steal Tubbo away and hide him where nothing could ever hurt him again.

“I’m sorry,” Fundy said, his eyes shining in the dim light. He was probably crying under his mask.

Tommy felt horribly out of place watching the entire thing go down. 

“I should’ve searched more, I shouldn’t have given up-” Tubbo sniffled, chest shuddering as a small sob escaped him. “I should’ve tried harder to find you, Tubbo. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I gave up after the first few months, I’m sorry I didn’t take you with me when the police came. I’m so sorry. I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so glad you found Tommy.” Fundy’s voice was heartbreakingly sad and terribly guilty. 

It kind of made Tommy’s heart ache, his secondhand anger at Fundy receding a bit.

Then, Tubbo did the last thing Tommy expected him to do. He tackled Fundy in a hug. 

“I don’t forgive you,” Tubbo said angrily. “But I’ll let you try and make it up to me.” Tubbo’s rage seemed to dissolve as Fundy reciprocated. “I’ll make it up to you a thousand times over if that’s what it takes.”

Tommy wasn’t trying to be mean or anything, but the height difference was kinda ridiculous, with Tubbo being more than a foot shorter than Fundy. 

No, he wasn’t trying to ignore his emotions, shut up.

Fundy pulled away to look at Tubbo softly, hands still resting on the smaller boy’s shoulders. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Tommy thought that Fundy looked at Tubbo a lot like how Techno looked at Ranboo. An ugly feeling settled inside of him as he wondered what he had missed out on while he was rotting away with Dream.

Tubbo smiled. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m still here, you know.”

Both of their heads snapped towards Tommy, Tubbo’s cheeks going bright red.

After a moment of wide-eyed staring, Fundy walked over to him and scooped him into a hug too. “Tommy! I missed you so much, thank the gods you’re safe. You’ve grown so much!”

Tommy’s cheeks felt warm under his mask. “Fundy, the last time you saw me I was like 11 or something, of course I’ve grown!”

Fondly, and a little bitterly, Tommy thought back to old memories of summer afternoons playing tag, bubbles flying away in the wind, ice cream cones and laughter.

Quietly, inside his head, he longed for the days when he and Tubbo were just two runaway orphans, looking forward to seeing Fundy every afternoon, their only concerns being where to sleep that night. 

Idly, Tommy wondered if Tubbo ever told Fundy that they had been homeless, rather than just neglected.

“Still,” Fundy said, pulling away. “It’s hard to believe that the little boy who was scared of a kitten became a literal criminal in, what, 4 years?”

Tommy looked away, avoiding Fundy’s eyes. “Things happened.”

Fundy sighed sadly. “I’m sure they did.”

After a moment, Fundy took both of their hands and dragged the two boys over to the couch, sitting down afterwards. “So, what have you been up to since I saw you both last? I feel like there’s quite a bit to tell.”

Tommy laughed, pushing away the odd mix of emotions he was feeling to deal with later. “You have no idea, big man.”

Chapter Text

Phil had been drowning himself in work.

He knew that. He knew it was unhealthy, and he shouldn’t do it.

He knew he was just ‘overcompensating’ because of his ‘need for control’ or whatever. The therapist Kristen had made him go to back when she was still alive had told him as much. 

And yet.

This mission couldn’t be anything short of perfect. He had to get whatever Kris had left for him; he had to.

So he thought the overworking was fine. Good, even, if it meant there was less of a chance for things to go wrong.

Techno, very evidently, thought otherwise. 

“For gods’ sake, Phil, you need a break!” He exclaimed, sounding rather exasperated. “What on earth are you even doin’?”

“This has to go perfectly , Tech! I’m just reviewing the plan again. We still don’t know how we’re going to get Innit up to the vents. We need backup plans. There’s so much to do!”

“Phil, it’s been like 2 weeks. We have plenty of time, it’s not like there’s a deadline.” Wilbur piped up like the traitorous little rat he was.

“This is not poggers behavior, big man.” Innit agreed.

The others were right. Phil knew this. 

He pressed his lips into a thin line.

But, well, the faster the better, right?

“I promise I’ll take a break after I finish backup plan B.” Phil said, knowing full well that he would not be taking a break until he had 5 backup plans ready.

“I really don’t know why you thought that would convince any of us.” Techno replied dryly, closing Phil’s laptop with his palm and snatching it away from the older man.

Phil chuckled sheepishly, knowing he had been caught, and Techno sighed.

“Wilbur,” he started, “You don’t have to go to the prison on Sunday right?”

“Yep.” Wilbur replied, popping the p.

“Perfect.”

Techno, with his deadpan face and emotionless eyes, stared at Phil. “All of us are hanging out on Sunday. You do not have a choice in this matter. Be ready to relax; if I catch you tryin’ to do work when we relax, I will punch you.”

From years of raising Techno, Phil knew he was dead serious.

He sighed and let his head drop onto the table with a thud. “Fucking fine, you little shit.”

---------

Phil, very naively, had believed he was prepared for whatever shit his kids (when had he started thinking of them as that?) were going to pull that day.

Really, he should have known better.

“.... What the fuck.” Phil whispered, eyes stuck disbelievingly to the giant thing in Techno’s arms. 

Techno met Phil’s eyes, lips quirked up in a wry smile. 

“It was Wilbur’s idea.” The pink-haired man said, setting the machine down on Phil’s floor with a thud. 

“ You bought a fucking karaoke system?!” Phil asked, still unable to process what was happening.

 (Think the karaoke system in that one Run!BTS episode. Like,,, http://res.heraldm.com/phpwas/restmb_allidxmake.php?idx=5&simg=201711221807549893169_20171122182041_01.jpg )

Innit snickered, holding up a finger. “No, we stole a karaoke system.” 

Phil threw his hands up, a million questions running through his mind. “That doesn’t make it any better!”

“Oh come on Phil,” Wilbur scoffed, putting his very full-looking bag down next to the karaoke system. “Stop acting so responsible , you know you want this.”

Phil did not want this, he reasoned with himself. He didn’t even like karaoke!

He leveled the three idiots in his doorway with a glare.

Innit widened his eyes, his lip beginning to wobble. 

NO , Phil thought desperately as familiar guilt welled up inside him, not the puppy eyes !

He threw his hand up to cover his eyes in a futile attempt to save himself.

Unfortunately, it was useless right from the start. Resisting Innit’s puppy eyes was an impossible task.

Phil caved in seconds, sighing and moving away from the door to allow his dumbass kids to come in. 

---------

 “Squids are people too!” Wilbur sang empathetically, voice ringing out through the room as guitar played from the speakers.

“ How ,” Phil asked, voice tinged with a mixture of horror and awe as Innit cackled in the background. “How does he make it sound so good?!” 

Techno’s chuckles joined Innit’s laughter, the two of them greatly enjoying Phil’s pain.

Phil stared at Wilbur, who was still singing passionately into the microphone. 

“I didn’t even know a song like this existed!” He said, having a minor existential crisis. 

Techno and Innit continued to laugh at his pain.

----------

“Getting bored of Walls 2, I should find a new minigame.” Techno sang in a deadpan voice, the music for Blank Space by Taylor Swift blasting out of the karaoke machine. 

Phil watched the scene, both amused and endlessly confused as Wilbur and Innit both snickered quietly in the corner. 

“October 2013, saw the game and I thought,”

“How did you guys do this?!” He whispered, unwilling to interrupt Techno. 

Wilbur shot him a mischievous grin as Techno continued. 

“Oh my god, the fuck is this,”

Phil choked on his own spit, wheezing at the sound of the monotone curse in Techno’s voice as he sang . 

How the fuck did he get here?

Phil listened with a confusing mix of amusement and mild awe as Techno sang for a total of 4 minutes , clapping respectfully at the end despite how absolutely toneless Techno had been when he sang.

And then, to somehow only Phil’s surprise, the machine flashed a bright 100 on screen.

Techno cackled maniacally.

Phil idly wondered if he was in some kind of fever dream.

“I’m going next!” Innit chirped, springing up from his place on the floor and grabbing the mic from Techno, who just shrugged and came to sit down where Innit had been. 

“So,” Techno said conversationally as Innit scrolled through the song list, “How’d you like my singin’?” 

“It was good mate!” Phil said, flashing Techno a thumbs up. As toneless as the singing had been, Phil hadn’t really expected anything else from him. 

(Could Techno’s voice even have emotion other than smugness and annoyance?)

Wilbur nodded solemnly. “Very poggers, king.” 

Phil groaned. “Innit got to you? Really WIlbur?”

Before he could answer, Innit interrupted them loudly. 

“Eyes on me please gentlemen!” He said, exaggerating the words in the way that he often did.

Techno rolled his eyes at the statement before turning to look at Innit obligingly, who grinned and pressed play. 

Then, the fucking Able sisters from animal crossing began to play. 

“Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum barara rum pum pum bum bum bum bum.” Innit sang, matching the song with a giant, shit eating grin on his face. 

“This can’t be allowed.” Phil said, disbelieving. “How the fuck is this even possible??”

“Karaoke doesn’t have rules, Phil.” Techno said from beside him. “I personally think this is a jam.” 

“I agree,” Wilbur piped up. “Innit’s doing a great job Phil, don’t be rude.”

-----------------

“Wanna do a duet, Innit?” Wilbur asked as he flicked through the songs. 

“Sure, big man!” The younger agreed easily, walking over to Wilbur’s side and picking up the other mic. “What song are you picking though?”

“What about, like, a Hamilton song?”

“Ooooh I love Hamilton!”
“Let’s do Alexander Hamilton then.” 

“Hell yeah!” Innit exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air. “That’s my favorite song from the musical!”

A wide grin took over the brunette’s face. “Perfect!”

The music began playing, a tune that Phil was familiar with because of Kris and her love for musicals.

“How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore,” the two sang together, Innit accompanying the words with erratic body movements Phil thought were meant to be dancing.

“And a Scotsman, dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot

In the Caribbean by providence impoverished,

In squalor, grow up to be a hero and a scholar?”

“Wooo!” Techno cheered, lifting a hand in the air lazily. “Go Wilbur! Go Innit!”

Phil gave the two of them a beaming smile before the next verse started, adoring the twin sunshine smiles they sent back. 

------------------

“We should do a duet too, Phil,” Techno suggested casually, lips twitching in a poor attempt to hide a smirk. 

Phil narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious. Anything that amused Techno meant no good.

“...No…” He said cautiously, observing Techno’s reaction carefully. 

The younger’s eyes widened and he sighed loudly. 

“Alright, I guess if you don’t want to do a duet with me that’s fine. I know my singing is bad.”

“Wha- wai- no-,” Phil stuttered out, knowing in the back of his mind that this was some kind of ploy but just wanting that look off of Techno’s face. 

The younger sighed again, slumping down to the ground, eyes downcast.

“... Fine, you little shit.” He said finally, resigned to his fate.

Immediately, the sad expression was replaced with a grin and Techno was dragging him to the front of the karaoke maching and picking out a song. 

“Okay, hold this,” he said, shoving a mike into Phil’s hands and pushing the play button. 

“What song are we doing?!” Phil asked, rather bewildered. 

Techno just grinned. 

Then the music began to play. 

Phil furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Why was the Bill Nye the Science Guy theme song playing?
He got his answer when Techno started singing. 

“Phil, Phil, Phil, Phil, Phiiiil the minecraft guy,” he belted out with a concerning amount of enthusiasm for Techno.

“Oh you fucker!” Phil said, holding back a laugh as he threw the mic down dramatically. “I am not singing that!”

“Boooooo!” Innit and Wilbur called from the sidelines

--------------

“Okay, you have to do at least one song Phil, c’mon pleaaaaseee?” Wilbur pleaded.

Phil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I’ll do a song,” he conceded.’

He was way too soft for his little shits. 

Phil dragged his feet as he went over to the karaoke machine, slowly flicking through the songs in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable. 

He snapped out of his annoyance when he saw it. 

The song.

Oh, now this was going to be fun , Phil thought, a grin slowly spreading across his face. 

He fondly remembered Ian’s reaction to him singing it as he clicked the song, ignoring the whispers in the background. 

Phil clicked play, turning to face his kids with his smile. 

Time for some revenge.

“How ba-a-a-ad can I be? I'm just doing what comes naturally.” 

Once, this had been his favorite song. He knew the lyrics to it by heart, knew the images that flashed in his mind and how terrifying everyone else found him when he was singing it. 

(Except Kristen; she had thought it was hot , but that was irrelevant.)

“How ba-a-a-ad can I be? I'm just following my destiny.”

Surprisingly enough, there were new pictures in his brain, replacing the place his sperm donor had taken. 

Kristen’s murderers. 

Phil’s smile grew as he remembered torturing them, hearing the screams and seeing them all bloodied up, begging for mercy.

They deserved it for taking his Kristen away.

“How ba-a-a-ad can I be? I'm just doing what comes naturally.”

He was feeling rather sadistic, honestly. 

It seemed time hadn’t taken away the song’s ability to bring out the worst in him. 

Good to know.

“How ba-a-a-ad can I be? 

How bad can I possibly be?” Phil finished off the first verse with a flourish, baring his teeth. 

“Oooookay,” Wilbur said, walking towards the kitchen at a quick pace (staying far away from Phil). “That’s enough, wow, suddenly I’m really hungry,” he said, laughing nervously as he eyed Phil. 

Phil noted how pale he was with the usual mild amusement. 

“Yep.” Innit squeaked

“Same,” Techno agreed as he slowly edged into the kitchen. 

-------------

Phil sighed happily and let his head rest on Techno’s shoulder, the cold, empty tub of ice cream in his hands a stark contrast to the warm, full feeling in his stomach. 

“Alright old man,” Techno whispered softly, nudging his side, “Time for bed.” 

Phil groaned, pressing his head further into Techno’s shoulder. “Can’t we just sleep here?”

“Nope, you’re going to your room,” the younger said with a little chuckle. “C’mon.”

He put a hand around Phil’s shoulders and dragged him up from the couch where Innit and Wilbur were watching with barely hidden amusement and began guiding him to his room. 

Phil yawned as they reached his door, pulling Techno into a hug before his kid could leave. 

“Thanks for today,” Phil mumbled sleepily, smiling when Techno’s arms finally came up to hug him back. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Techno whispered back. 

“Mmmm,” Phil replied, half asleep already. “Tell Innit an’ Wilbur thanks too.” 

Techno huffed fondly, pulling away. “I will, old man.”

Phil turned and headed into his room, mumbling out a “love you” as he collapsed onto his bed. 

The creaking of the door paused, a barely audible “love you too” reaching Phil’s ears before it closed with a quiet click. 

(He didn’t hear the even quieter “dad” that followed, a near-silent word meant for only it’s speaker’s ears.)

Chapter Text

Anticipation rose up in Phil, steady and almost nauseating as he stood in his house with Techno and Innit.

Today was the day. A month of meticulous planning later, they were ready. 6 months since the first meeting, and they were finally, finally ready to do the heist. Phil hadn’t really expected it to take this long, but he was honestly kind of glad it had. Even if whatever lay in the safe was underwhelming, he had gained something incredibly precious to him out of the whole thing.

He glanced around him and allowed himself a secretive smile as he watched his teammates whisper to each other in hushed voices. 

So long as he had them, his kids , everything would be fine. 

The anxiety eased, ebbed away just a tiny bit, but stubbornly refused to go away entirely.

Phil took a deep breath to steady himself, mentally running through their initial plan and all their backup plans as well. The cloth mask over his mouth felt almost suffocating, but he didn’t want people to identify the person that broke into Pandora as either him or the Angel of Death, so he couldn’t take it off.

Phil checked the contents of his backpack for the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

Propofol injections, check.

Dissolved disulfiram, check. (It’s a thing that makes you sick if you drink alcohol on top of it is what I gathered from my googling. No idea of the specifics, but yeahhhh. That’s what they used to make Ponk sick. My google searches because of this chapter are wilding . Maybe I’ll get an FBI agent, who knows ;). )

Alcohol, check.

Rope, check.

Blindfolds, check.

Gags, check.

Handcuffs, check.

Dissolved sedatives, check.

Gelatin copy of Sam’s fingerprint, check.

He rifled through the rest of the bag’s contents and tried to remember if there was anything missing.

That was everything, right?

He grabbed the bag he had prepared for Wilbur and checked it too. Wilbur was currently in the vault, taking Ponk’s place as the office guard because Ponk just happened to fall sick. (Yes, they poisoned him.)

Yep, that was everything.

Just as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, his walkie talkie crackled to life, along with the others.

“Can everyone hear me?” Bee’s voice rang through the room.

 Phil cringed at how loud it was, turning the volume down.

“Make sure you set the walkie talkies to a low volume.” Nether warned.

 All three of them fiddled with the settings on their devices until they had to hold them up to their ears to hear what Nether and Bee were saying.

“Right, everyone remembers the plan?” Mutters of agreement answered Bee’s question. 

“Everyone has everything from their checklists?” Rustling, and more agreements. “Phil, you have Wil’s bag?” 

“Yeah, mate.” 

“Innit, you have the gas canisters and the smoke bombs?” 

“Sure do, big man.” 

“Blade, you have the-”

“Alright then,” Nether’s crackly voice interrupted Bee’s. “We’re going to move to our place near the vault now. Remember to contact us before you enter Pandora’s perimeters, okay?” Each of them muttered their assent, and the crackling turned off, leaving an unnerving silence.

“Well boys,” Phil said, anxiety, or maybe excitement, curling in his gut. “Let’s do this!”

-----

Phil fumbled with the black box, shoving aside blueprints and grabbing the red card at the bottom. He grinned, locking it again and shoving it back into the drawer, right next to where Sam was lying unconscious on the bed, tied up and gagged. If the sedatives and propofol didn’t manage to keep him unconscious, the disulfiram and alcohol would surely incapacitate him.

Phil grabbed the man’s phone from his bedside table and climbed back out the window, waving mockingly at Sam before he left.

He ran back to the car, shoving the card into his pocket and sliding into the driver’s seat, starting up the engine again.

Now for the hard part.

The car ride, unlike most of the others they had shared, was tense and silent. Phil was far too nervous to do anything about it.

Finally, finally , they arrived at the forest near the prison.

Phil drove his car a bit into it and parked, shoving his eye and face mask into the backpack with his beanie, replacing them with a black ski mask. 

Just for a little bit, he reminded himself as the itchy fabric clung to his skin. Just for a little bit.

He turned on his walkie talkie, gesturing to the others to do the same. “We’re here.” He whispered. “Alright. We’re ready. Let’s do this.” came the quiet reply.

“Yeah.” Phil breathed, shoving all his feelings to the side. “Let’s do this.”

----

Phil stood hidden in the shadows of a particularly large tree, silently waiting for his opportunity.

The two tall buildings of Pandora stood proudly next to each other, one of dark blackstone and the other of glimmering obsidian.

Neither had ever been broken into. 

That was about to change.

Because the thing about Sam was that he had aimed for perfection, for a place that could never be breached. In theory, he had achieved it. However, for all his strategic placement of guards, for all his incredible tech, there was one thing Sam failed to take into account: human nature.

If all the guards really followed the instructions they were given and vigilantly kept watch over their surroundings for the entire 6 hours of their shifts, Pandora really would be entirely unbreachable. Most guards, at least those guarding the vault rather than the prison, did not do that.

Because it was human nature to get bored, and it was human nature to get tired. So most of the guards sat down at their posts and held hushed conversations with their colleagues, or simply stared at the ground in boredom, picking at grass. There were some that stood vigilant, alert and cautious of their surroundings, but those were very rare near the vault side of Pandora. 

These guards did not think they were in danger. The ones on the other side of the grounds were well aware of what they were protecting, what dangers lurked right behind them in the obsidian prison. They would be far greater threats than the ones he was facing.

There was one guard in particular, meant to guard the side of the blackstone vault, that was a particularly weak link. A man, younger than most that worked there, who usually ended up dozing off an hour or so after Sam left the premises. According to Wilbur, he worked two jobs in the day, desperate for money for reasons he did not know.

So Phil waited. As his target made his way to lean against the blackstone, further back than most of his colleagues’ voices reached, Phil waited. He had to wait until all the guards were absorbed with something else to slip through the gap, had to make sure the guard was fast asleep so he would not notice Phil sneaking along the edges of the vault. 

A shrill alarm cut through the air, drawing the attention of all the guards there. 

Something happened in the prison.

Phil cursed under his breath. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Some of the guards began rushing towards the prison, the others now alert and tense, still staring after their colleagues.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, but Phil could work with this, he decided.

In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity. 

Isn’t that what Techno had told him, once?

He turned on the walkie talkie. “Going in, there’s been an alarm at the prison but it’s caused a distraction. Be ready.” He clicked it off before the others could respond.

He quickly slipped past the lines of defense, unnoticed by the distracted guards, and ran over to the front of the vault, still keeping to the shadows. He grabbed the red card and scanned it at the giant iron doors of the vault, abandoning most of his stealth in favor of speed.

The email quickly popped up in Sam’s phone, asking him to confirm that it was really ‘Sam’ entering the prison and allow entry. Phil typed in the password and clicked confirm, smiling as a click sounded. 

He pushed the door open slightly, slipping in and closing it behind him. As fast as he could, he grabbed the two guards waiting for him inside with his hands, bashing their heads together with as much force as he could muster and sighing quietly when they went limp. He took out the rope, blindfolds, gags and sedatives out of his bag, dripping some of the sedatives into their mouths before tying the guards up as quickly as he could.

Phil did as Bee had told him, peeling large, black stickers off the paper in his pockets and sticking them over each security camera as soon as he saw it, not allowing more glimpses of him than strictly necessary. 

Bee and Nether would delete the footage later anyways.

He scanned the card at the iron door to the right of the main entrance and dragged the guards into the door, leaving their bodies there while he crept through the long, slightly windy hallway, knocking out and tying up every guard he encountered.

Finally, Phil reached the place he had been looking for the entire time.

Wilbur stood in front of an iron door, much smaller than the gates. He was looking around diligently, purposefully ignoring the spot where Phil was standing.

So Wilbur had seen him. Perfect.

Quickly, he dashed over to Wilbur and grabbed him in the same manner he had grabbed all the previous guards and tapped the side of his head with the hilt of his gun, mirroring his previous actions perfectly , but without the force.

Wilbur, who had been struggling viciously, went limp in his arms. Phil let his body crumple to the ground as he had many others, nearly wincing as he fell to the ground.

Phil walked over to the security camera and stuck a sticker over it, then another, and another.

You could never be too careful.

Phil crouched in front of Wilbur’s limp body and shook his shoulder. “You alright mate? Was I a bit too harsh?” He whispered.

Wilbur got up with a quiet groan, pushing himself up and stretching a bit. “I think I got some bruises, but it’s alright. You did what you had to do.” 

“Sorry mate.” Phil whispered guiltily as he ruffled through his backpack, grabbing a mask and the gelatin fingerprint. He handed the mask over to Wilbur and stood up, scanning the card and pressing the gelatin into the scanner. The doors clicked, and Phil shoved them open, quickly placing stickers over the security cameras and gesturing Wilbur in.

The doors closed behind them. Phil brought his walkie talkie up to his mouth and turned it on. “Bee, Nether, we’re in the office.”

“Right. Boot up the PC.”

Phil turned on the computer, a dim light washing over him as it turned on. 

Enter Password to continue.

“What’s the password?”

“Is there a hint option?”

“Yeah.”

Phil furrowed his brow in confusion. “The hint is just a less than sign and a 3 placed next to each other to make a heart.”

“Okay, try,” There was a bit of rustling from the other end that sounded vaguely like paper. “16151411.”

Phil typed in the numbers as Bee spoke, his frown deepening as the screen flashed. 

Incorrect password, please try again.

Sam’s phone lit up where it was placed on the desk. An email alerting him about it, then.

“It’s wrong.”

Phil heard nothing but rustling for the next several moments.

Then, Bee spoke again. “Okay, try 200016151411.”

To Phil’s incredulity, the home screen showed up. “How-”

Pride could be heard loud and clear in Bee’s voice. “I have my ways.”

“As if I didn’t do half the work.” Nether snorted in the background. 

“Oh, shut up.”

“Anyways, Zephyrus, I need you to open chrome and type chrome remote desktop into the search bar.” (I have no idea if this would work irl but ayy it's my fanfic so my rules :D)

Phil followed all of Bee’s instructions, laughing incredulously when they finished, and the cursor began to move on its own.

“Holy crap!”

“I’ll figure out the PC from here, I need you to find the box with the access card.”

Wilbur finally came over, going through a couple drawers before pulling out a small box with a number pad.

An obsidian box. “For fuck’s sake, of course it’s obsidian.”

“Don’t worry, we can probably figure out the password.” Nether said. 

Wilbur hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I think it was just 6 numbers.”

“Okay, okay that’s good.” Bee muttered. More rustling sounded from the other side. “Um, try 122020.”

Phil punched in the code, wincing when the box beeped loudly. “Nope.”

“151220?”

Another beep. “Still no.”

“Oh! Of course!” Bee said excitedly. “Try 618114.”

Sure enough, there was a click. And no beep. “Seriously Bee, how?!”

“Well honestly, we just studied his other passwords and found out he usually sets passwords as names converted into numerical form or important dates, so we made a list of stuff like that.”

“That is absolutely incredible.” Phil said as he grabbed the silvery card from the box. “It’s nothing, really.” Silence fell as Bee worked. 

“Zephyrus, I need you to enter the USB I gave you into the computer, please.”

Phil searched through his backpack and found the drive, plugging it in. 

“That’s perfect, thank you.” The next few minutes were mostly silent, with mutters coming from Bee and Nether through the walkie talkie every so often, until Bee finally sighed.

“Alright, we’re good on the alarms. By the way, the alarm on the other side of the prison seems to be just someone trying to break out, so it shouldn’t interfere with our plan, but the police have probably been called. Do you want to continue to phase two or the emergency plan?”

Phil grinned, heart thumping wildly in excitement. “I think we’re going to be perfectly fine. It’s time for phase two.”

Chapter Text

The metal of the gun glinted in the dim lighting as Techno pulled it out from it’s holster, observing the small room as Wilbur shoved his work jacket into the bag Techno had brought for him. Phil was downing water like a dying man in one of the room’s only two chairs.

Wilbur finally fastened the eye mask to his face, pulling the hood of his hoodie up. “Right, I’m ready to head out, Ph- Zeph .” 

“Please remember the codenames, Orpheus .”

“Not my fault that Protesilaus chose terrible names!”

“I will not stand for this slander.” Techno drawled.

The crackling of the walkie talkie interrupted their bickering. “Theseus is in position, initiate phase two.”

The light mood of the room dropped to a more serious, intense one.

“Will do, Bee.” Phil responded. Techno got into position, holding his gun with both hands as Phil and Wilbur packed up and walked after him.

The three of them crept through the hallways quietly, moving past unconscious and struggling bodies alike, as well as security cameras covered with stickers. They reached the end of the hallway, facing the iron door that Techno had entered mere minutes ago.

Each of them pulled out handkerchiefs and poured propofol onto them, folding them in half.

“We’re in position.” Phil whispered into the walkie talkie. 

“Got it.” Came a hushed reply.

About a minute, or maybe it was two, passed in silence. 

And then the alarm blared, an intercom telling the guards that an intruder had been detected on the fifth floor.

Panicked voices and footsteps sounded throughout the building, masking the beep that the door made when Phil scanned the card.

The door was opened a tiny bit as they all waited, tense and ready for action.

“Go.” Bee said.

And they sprung into action. Normally, there were 10 guards stationed at each floor, one for each safe. However, an protocol for an alarm in the building stated that half the guards stationed at each floor were to go to the site of the alarm.

Which meant they only had five opponents.

Phil and Techno immediately tackled two of the guards each, while Wilbur grabbed the last one. Techno wrapped his arms around the guards’ faces, holding the handkerchiefs to their noses and mouths tightly. 

In just a few moments, the guards were limp in each of their arms. Phil and Wilbur made quick work of tying up the drugged guards while Techno placed stickers over the security cameras. Just in case.

“Moving on to phase three.” Phil said into his walkie talkie

“Got it, Theseus is on his way.”

Techno allowed himself a breath of relief, shoulders sagging as the intercom blared loudly, telling them the threat had been taken care of. 

Phil was finally going to have what he had been waiting so long to have. 

He was so, so happy for his best friend.

“Guys, there’s someone trying to force the entrance to the vault open. I don’t know who, I’ve disabled the cameras and it'll take a bit to get them going again. Be quick, they could prove to be dangerous.” Nether warned.

Techno tensed again. Of course things couldn’t just go according to plan for once.

Phil cursed quietly but began to walk briskly towards the other end of the hallway, stopping in front of the doors marked with Vault 7 as Wilbur and Techno trailed behind him. He pulled the card out of his pocket, it’s silvery surface a stark contrast to his black gloves, and scanned it.

He started tapping on a phone furiously, shoulders sagging in relief when the door clicked. Phil pushed the doors open.

Techno was, to be entirely honest, very confused. Because from what he could see, the only thing the vault held was some books, a glowing white chunk of something, what he thought might be some kind of locket, and a bag. There was nothing that justified Wilbur’s gasp, or Phil’s rushing into the place. 

Or the 6 months they had spent working towards this.

But he said nothing as Phil’s shoulders shook, or as his hands trembled when he reached towards the back of his neck to fasten something-probably the locket- there. 

Techno said nothing as Phil sniffled, said nothing as he stuffed as many things as he could into his backpack. Techno said nothing as he carried the rest of the things- really just the glowing thing and the bag- out of the vault with a new, silvery chain disappearing into his hoodie.

And in his wordless confusion and concern, Techno did not realize he had let his guard down until a strangled cry carried over to his ears. 

He immediately turned to the sound, gun raised, and felt his stomach turn violently at the sight in front of him. 

A man in striped prison clothes stood at the end of the hallway, blond matted hair falling over dark green eyes. 

Techno had seen that face before.

Standing beside an open vent, visibly shaking, back turned to Techno, was Innit. 

“D-Dream, please, please, don-don’t hurt me, please, I’m sorry-” Innit’s voice sounded terrified and it made Techno want to rip Dream’s throat out even more than he already wanted to.

The man, Dream , tilted his head slightly. And then he laughed. The intense urge to vomit hit Techno like a truck. “Tommy, is that you?”

Innit stumbled back. “Please-”

“Oh, don’t worry Tommy, I won’t hurt you! You came for me after all, didn’t you? You came for your friend! Man, I’ve missed you for the past year! Shame I missed your sweet sixteen, honestly. I know you were looking forward to that.”

Twin gasps came from either side of Techno as Innit stood, frozen in place.

Dream sounded terrifyingly gleeful. Something in Techno’s brain clicked. Tommy had been manipulated before . White hot rage filled his body as he strode forward. “Dream, get away from him.”

Innit turned to him with wide, unfocused eyes and stumbled back as Techno tried to reach for him. 

Right into Dream.

Dream wrapped an arm around the kid, patting his head with the other. “There, there, Tommy, I’ve got you.” He said, his voice unnaturally soft. 

Tommy melted into the touch, making Techno even angrier. “Dream,” He practically growled. “Let him go.”

Dream turned to face Techno, his smile ever present, despite the absence of his mask.

“Is that who I think it is? Blade? So we meet again!”

“Let Tommy go, Dream.”

“Or what, you’ll kill me? You know you can’t do that with Tommy right here in my arms~ Besides, you wouldn’t want to kill your only way to those blueprints would you?”

Frustration built up inside Techno because Dream was right . Tommy was being held tightly against Dream, with one arm wrapping around his torso like rope and the other holding a gun a few centimeters from his forehead.

On top of that, Dream was right about the blueprints too .

There were, hidden somewhere in some old building Techno would never find on his own, blueprints to make the device that could control Ranboo. 

So long as they existed, Ranboo would never be free; Dream had threatened that one of his men would rebuild the damn machine if Techno killed him, and that was just too much of a risk to take.

Which meant Techno couldn’t kill him.

“What do you want? Money? Power? I can give you that, just let him go .”

“No, I think I’ll just get what I want anyway.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

Dream’s smile widened. “Like this.”

Faster than Techno could do anything, Dream flipped his gun and knocked on the side of Tommy’s head hard with the handle . He pressed the barrel to the younger boy’s forehead as Tommy went limp, finger resting dangerously over the trigger.

“You get me what I want, or he dies.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Wilbur interrupted, voice trembling with barely hidden fear and anger.

Dream turned a bit to look at Phil. “And who might you two be?”

“Blade, tell me what the fuck is going on . Right now.” Phil sounded downright murderous. Oh fuck. 

“You remember Ranboo, Phil? Dream conducted some… experiments on him. We can’t kill Dream without risking Ranboo’s… well his ability to control his own body, basically. Even if we could, Dream is quick. Tommy would be dead before we could do anything about it. Just… do as he says. Please.”

“You knew? You knew his name and his age and about all of, whatever is going on, and you didn’t think to tell us ?” The hurt in Wilbur’s words was so strong that Techno wanted to explain himself, wanted to tell him No, it’s not like that at all , but they didn’t have time. Techno could see some of the knocked out guards starting to stir.

“Not now, mate.” Phil said, sounding surprisingly calm. “Blade will explain himself later. We have bigger problems.”

“Dream,” Phil started, “What is it you want? We’re willing to negotiate.”

Dream hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I’d like you to open Vault 1, however you managed to open Vault 7, and I want you to get me out of Pandora’s grounds safely.”

“And you’ll let Tommy go?”

“I’ll let him live. I need a guarantee that you won’t come after me.”

“That’s bullshit!” Wilbur said angrily. 

“Well, I could just kill him. He holds no importance to me anymore.”

Techno felt himself freeze, but he didn’t know what to do. There was no way they could hit Dream without risking Tommy’s death; Tommy’s body covered almost Dream’s entire body, leaving only the top half of his face and the arms holding Tommy bare.

If they attempted to shoot either Dream’s arms, or even both, there was a good chance Dream would instinctively pull the trigger and end up fatally injuring Tommy.

Their hands were tied. 

They had no choice but to go along with all of Dream’s demands.

Phil apparently came to the same conclusion. “... We’ll do it.” 

“Perfect!” Dream said gleefully. 

---

“Well then, I’ll be going! If you don’t want little Tommy here to become a corpse, I would suggest not coming after me.” Dream said, the porcelain mask on his face taunting Techno as he backed away into the forest, his newly returned netherite axe glinting in the moonlight.

Corpses lay bloody and unmoving at their feet, but all Techno could do was stare after Tommy’s limp body, slowly disappearing into the darkness.

He surged forward as soon as Dream was out of sight, praying to every god out there that he would be able to catch Dream with his back turned.

He was stopped by strong arms pulling him back. “Not now, Techno. He has all the power. We need a plan, we need a way to apprehend him without killing him, we need a lot of things. Don’t be dumb.”

“But Phil, he’s getting away-”

“We’ll find him.” Phil said stonily. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

Chapter Text

Adjusting his gas mask carefully as he crouched behind some random guard’s body, Tommy lit and threw the rest of the little blue balls (heh. Blue balls), praying that he had done it right.

They hissed as guards finally arrived at the floor, and promptly burst, some kind of weird gas pouring out.

Tommy threw half of his smoke bombs onto the floor as well, hearing a couple coughs until there was silence. 

Every time he heard footsteps, he was to throw more smoke bombs and then release some gas from his canister. 

After about 2, maybe 3 minutes, all was silent.

“Bee, phase two completed.” He whispered into his walkie talkie, wincing as his normal voice came out. It was either the gas mask or the voice mod; he was just going to have to hope no one was able to recover any audio recordings from the break in.

“Perfect, hop back in the vent, Zephyrus and the others will probably be done soon as well.”
Tommy sighed loudly. “Do I have to? The vents are so stuffy!”

“C’mon, Theseus. You know you can’t take like 15 guards.”

“Fair, fair.” Tommy relented, already unscrewing the lid of the vent. That was how they got in, too.

All of the vents led up to the ceiling, probably to prevent people like them from using them. They were supposed to be unreachable, but Tommy and Techno made it work.

Standing on Techno’s shoulders while shooting two grappling guns, and then proceeding to essentially use the wire of the grappling hooks like some weird monkey bars to get up to the roof because someone forgot the slider was scary as hell , but it worked. 

Of course it did, Tommy would be dead if it didn’t.

Tommy crawled back into the vent, placing the lid back in it’s position. 

“Lead the way, Bee.”

“Go straight, take the first right.”

-----

When Tommy popped out of the vent, he expected hugs, happiness, and relief. 

After all, they had done it. All they needed was to get out, and that would be it.

Tommy would get his money. 

He could buy a way better apartment with Tubbo, with separate rooms so he wouldn’t wake Tubbo up with his nightmares. The two of them could have three whole meals everyday, and all the snacks they wanted. 

They could have a cat, and a dog, just like they wanted since they were itty bitty kids. Their dreams, everything they ever wanted, would become a reality.

Clementine the moth would get her own special home. Tommy could buy Tubbo all the different types of sweets he wanted to try.

They could repay Ranboo for all the times he’d treat them to games and food at festivals and restaurants.

Tommy could go to school.

Tommy wouldn’t have to steal anymore.

He had high hopes and higher spirit, only for it to be utterly crushed when he saw the last thing he expected, the one person he wanted to see least, the cause of most of his problems.

Tommy saw Dream.

And an entire year of progress went out the window.

Late nights spent talking about nightmares, long hugs because words just weren’t enough, breakdowns upon breakdowns, apologies and arguments, all of it , just gone.

Because despite everything, Tommy ignored his problems, assuming that Dream wouldn’t be able to get to him even though his paranoia told him otherwise, assuming that it really wasn’t necessary to talk about it.

Tommy never did talk about the gruesome bits, the ones that haunted him the most.

Tommy ignored his problems, and it seemed they had come to bite him in the ass.

Tommy could barely think, because he was terrified. 

Of what? He didn’t know. 

Or maybe he did.

(TW// Manipulation, Effects of manipulation)

“D-Dream, please, please, don-don’t hurt me, please, I’m sorry-”

He had to apologize, apologies always made the punishments lighter, apologize apologize apologize-

Dream laughed. That was good, right?

“Tommy, is that you?”
“Please-” 

APOLOGIZE APOLOGIZE APOLOGIZE-

“Oh, don’t worry Tommy, I won’t hurt you! You came for me after all, didn’t you? You came for your friend! Man, I’ve missed you for the past year! Shame I missed your sweet sixteen, honestly. I know you were looking forward to that.”

Dream wasn’t mad. 

Dream wasn’t mad, it was okay.

Why was he still terrified?

“Dream, get away from him.”

Who was that? Why did he sound so familiar? Why was he angry?

Tommy turned around to look and stumbled backwards as he saw hands, hands reaching towards him, trying to hurt him-

He hit something warm and fairly poke-y.

Tommy tensed as an arm wrapped around him, something patting his head. 

“There, there, Tommy, I’ve got you.”

Tommy leaned into the hand when he heard Dream’s voice. Dream was rewarding him, he must have done something right.

He was going to enjoy it as much as he could.

(TW// Over- or at least I think nothing after this should be triggering)

Tommy let himself tune out the conversation around him, melting further and further into the soft warmth that surrounded him.

He was so comfortable .

The last thing he felt before the world turned black was something hard against the side of his head.

---

Tommy woke up to fuzzy shapes and strong arms.

There was something warm against his back, but the cold breeze around the rest of his body made him shudder.

What happened?

Blearily, he struggled against whatever was holding him.

“Shhhh,” A quiet voice whispered. “Go back to sleep, Tommy. I’ve got you.”

His limbs did feel awfully heavy

And everything was so damn fuzzy, too.

Tommy closed his eyes and slept.

Dream would protect him.

-----

The next time Tommy woke up, he was in a dim room, only lit up by some kind of nightlight.

Everything felt a bit woozy, like how people described being drunk.

What happened? Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was… a vent?

That’s right, he was breaking into a vault, wasn’t he?

For Phil.

But this wasn’t his room at Phil’s, was it?

He didn’t think so.

Why was everything so foggy ?

He couldn’t remember anything properly.

Tommy sat up in his bed, trying to observe his surroundings. From what he could see, the room was entirely bare except for the bed he was on and the nightlight, which he couldn’t look directly at, for some reason.

Tommy tried to get up, immediately falling back onto the bed when dizziness and nausea hit him at once like a truck.

What was going on?

Everything reminded him of.. Something.

A concussion?

These were the symptoms of a concussion, right?

He thought he remembered- had it been Techno?- telling him about them.

Tommy crawled back into his bed, hiding his face under the covers.

Injuries healed better with more rest right?

Tommy didn’t particularly feel like he could do much in his state anyways.

It was probably best to just wait for someone to come check on him.

Chapter Text

Ranboo, admittedly, was a bit of a pushover.

But his therapist, a sweet lady who went by the name Puffy, told him time and time again that it wasn’t his fault. She said that it was ‘conditioning’, first by his parents, and then by Dream. (Ranboo refused to call Dream his brother because he wasn’t , not in any way that mattered.)

So, of course, he kept secrets like the world would end if he didn’t, like it would kill him to let anything slip. Once upon a time, that had been true.

So when Techno posed as a random dude named James and told him never to tell anyone else who he really was, Ranboo did. Even when so desperately wanted to be honest with Tubbo or Tommy or Puffy and tell them that it was Techno, not ‘James’ that was his brother, tell them all about what really happened after Dream was caught, he didn’t.

He went along with the story they fabricated for the government (Having his entire life revealed to dozens of people in court was not pleasant, but at least it got Dream locked up.) ,told his friends white lies because he was terrified of what would happen if he didn’t.

When Tommy told him not to tell Techno or James he even existed, to just let him go and live with Tubbo, Ranboo did.

When Tubbo told him Tommy took up thievery to make money, told him to please not tell anyone, he didn’t.

Even after he found out Tommy was ‘Innit’, even after they knew who Techno really was, he kept up the act, because he didn’t know if it was okay to drop it.

No one had ever said he could stop.

And now, apparently, it was coming back to haunt him.

“Tommy was taken.” Techno said to him, his nonchalance clearly faked.

Ranboo could tell from the way Techno was gripping his mug, from the way his eyebrows were a bit furrowed, from the strain in his voice, that he was upset.

“By Dream.”

Ranboo froze, his whirling thoughts coming to a screeching halt. 

No.

NO.

N O.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was another kid?”

Techno’s voice was heartbroken and angry, quiet in volume but terrifyingly loud to Ranboo’s ears.

Enderchest headbutted his foot, meowing quietly.

“I’m so-sorry.” Ranboo’s voice cracked, chin wobbling as he began to process what Techno had just told him.

Tommy was taken.

By Dream.

Tommy was in Dream’s custody again .

Ranboo shivered, remembering cold white rooms and dark warehouses and terrible, constant pain.

He remembered a deceptively soft voice, neon green hoodies and that damned white smile mask.

Tommy was going to have to face that, all over again.

This time, all alone.

“Ranboo, hey, breathe with me, c’mon.”

Techno was holding one of Ranboo’s hands to his chest, breathing exaggeratedly. “Can you hear me?”

Slowly, Ranboo gave a small nod.

“We’re going to find him, right?” He asked, his voice shaking terribly as he tried to calm his own rapidly thumping heart to match Techno’s.

“Yeah, of course, but I need you to tell me everything, okay? I know it’ll be hard, but I’m right here, you’ll be fine. I just need to know about Tommy a little more, okay? We don’t have to talk now, we can have this conversation later too, just take it easy, Boo.”

Ranboo nodded, sitting down at the table. 

He was still struggling to wrap his head around the fact that Tommy was gone , that he was back with the worst person Ranboo knew.

Ranboo picked up Enderchest, who had been winding herself between his legs, and placed her in his lap, relaxing as she nuzzled into his chest, purring softly.

Techno pushed a bowl of cereal towards him.

They ate in silence.

----

Ranboo took a deep breath, squeezing Techno’s calloused hands tightly in preparation for his story, which would probably end up being word-vomit.

Techno squeezed back gently, smiling encouragingly as he sat in front of Ranboo on the bed.

“Tommy was adopted by Dream a long time ago. I don’t know why, but he apparently had no idea about Dream’s criminal stuff. One day, he followed Dream while he was coming to…” Ranboo winced. “Visit me. Dream took me to a warehouse because I'd tried to run away a few days before then and-” Ranboo stopped for a moment, doing a breathing exercise before continuing. “Dream… did what he did. And after he left, Tommy came in. And saw me all bruised and bleeding. So he started patching me up and asking what Dream was doing and why and-” Techno squeezed his hands in silent reassurance. 

“Dream came back while Tommy was still there and- and- I don’t remember the rest.” Ranboo said miserably. 

“That’s okay, that’s fine. How long was he there? What happened when I came to get you?”

“He was there for… a year and a half, I think? Maybe 2 years. We became really close while he was with me. We had rooms next to each other so we could talk through the walls and-” Tears began to trickle down Ranboo’s face, hot against his pale cheeks. “He was my first friend.” 

“Oh.” Techno said softly, untangling one of his hands from Ranboo’s to wipe away his tears with a tissue. “Why...why didn’t you tell me about him? I could’ve taken him in too, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he didn’t want me to and Tubbo was waiting and he looked so scared of going back to the adoption center and I didn’t want him to be scared, I’m really sorr-”

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, I forgive you, you don't have to apologize. You said something about Tubbo?” Techno prompted, gentle and soft and Gods Ranboo was so lucky to have ended up with a brother like him.

“Yea-yeah. Tubbo and Tommy, uh, grew up together, and when Dream moved away from the place their adoption center was in to come here, Tubbo ran away to come find him because he was worried. Apparently, Dream wouldn’t let Tubbo see him while he was still there, and Tubbo would always check if Tommy was okay through the window at night, but he couldn’t anymore when Dream moved, so he got really scared. He was living on the streets when I met him, after you found me on your doorstep, and I recognized him from Tommy’s description, so he told me that when Tommy got out, he wanted me to tell Tommy where he was so they could live together. And I did.”

“So Tubbo is Tommy’s roommate, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m assuming you know that Tommy is Innit?”

“Yeah. I found out at the sleepover.”

“Right, okay. Just one more question. Did Dream do any… experiments on him?”

Ranboo shivered, remembering syringes and pain and that bright, bright flash of purple that was permanently seared into his brain. “Not that I know of. He just… beat him, a lot, and said all those weird, manipulative things to him. I have no idea why even kept him alive.” Ranboo finished honestly.

Ranboo saw Techno’s expression darken with anger, before it was gone, melting back into the warm smile he was familiar with.

“Thank you, Boo. You did great, I’m so proud of you.”

Ranboo’s chest went mushy at the words, the tension in his shoulders finally relaxing as he realized he had done what he needed to, and everything would be fine . Techno had beaten Dream once.

Ranboo had no doubt he could do it again.

“D’you have any questions for me?”

“Yeah, can you please tell me what happened? I want to know.”

Chapter Text

When Tommy woke up, a headache raging in his skull, it was to a lime green hoodie and a mask that made his stomach churn.

Or maybe that was the concussion.

“Tommy! You’re awake! That’s perfect, you’re coming with me.”

“The fuck? I’m not going anywhere with you, bitch!”

Fearless words could not hide the tremble in Tommy’s voice.

He was, for lack of a better phrasing, scared shitless . Right in front of him was a man who was supposed  to be locked up in the most high-security prison on Earth, speaking as if the situation was entirely ordinary.

“Now, now, Tommy, I thought you’d know better than to talk like that by now. I guess you’ve forgotten how to be good hmm? I’ll have to teach you again.”

Tommy would’ve laughed at how fake the pleasant tone in Dream’s voice was if he wasn’t so terrified.

“N-no!”

Dream’s kind act dropped, his voice going cold. 

“That isn’t your choice to make, Tommy.”

Dream yanked the lanky boy’s arm, pulling him up and forcing Tommy to lean on him. 

An arm wrapped around Tommy’s shoulders tightly, harsh enough to bruise.

Tommy grit his teeth and held back a wince.

Dream began to lead him out of the room, opening the door and allowing Tommy to finally see where he was being kept. Not that it helped at all.

Through his dizziness, Tommy tracked each turn they made, resisting the urge to pull away from the grip of his abuser in fear of punishment. 

Finally, Dream opened a door, revealing a plain white room with chains on the walls, a small box in the corner and a lone chair in the middle.

It looked like some kind of sick interrogation room, or maybe a turture chamber. Tommy could easily imagine himself going insane in there. He shuddered at the thought.

Tommy was dropped unceremoniously on the chair, mind whirring as he tried to come up with an escape route, or a plan, or just anything through his fear and nausea.

Cold iron clasped around his wrists. 

Tommy stared at the handcuffs, hope draining out of him as he felt something cold around his ankles, heard the click a moment after. 

Fuck.

“Why- why am I here?” Tommy asked, heart beating wildly as the realization finally set in. He couldn’t escape .

He realized he couldn’t hear what Dream was saying, if he was saying anything at all. The mask made it kind of hard to figure out. Tommy began to force himself to calm down, mentally counting the seconds as he breathed slowly. 

“-so as much as I want to, I can’t kill you.” 

Tommy’s blood ran cold. Dream wanted to kill him.

Dream couldn’t kill him. Why? He hadn’t been listening. Fuck, why was he so stupid?

Breathe, he reminded himself. I have to breathe .

“You’re not going to kill me.” Tommy said with bated breath, praying that he was right.

Dream leveled him with a disdainful look. “Were you not listening, you idiot? If I kill you, I’ll be re-captured by the Blade. ” Dream spat his name like it was something disgusting.

Tommy felt his anger flare, opening his mouth to retaliate when he remembered who he was talking to. He screwed his mouth back shut.

“So, why’d you bring to this stupid room? Couldn’t you just leave me be? What, are you obsessed with me or something?” Tommy taunted, knowing Dream could see through the thin veil of confidence but taunting him anyways

“Oh come on Tommy, at least be a little grateful that I’ve decided to spend time with you. Where did my sweet little boy go? Honestly, you were so much better last time I saw you.” 

(DEAR GOD I HATE WHEN PPL SAY WHERE DID MY LITTLE KID GO LIKE. STFU. NO. GROWING UP IS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. YOU DO NOT GET TO GUILT ME FOR THAT.)

Tommy felt the all-too-familiar emotions rise up inside him, guilt and sadness and that unshakable fear . 

He hated himself for wanting to apologize. 

“Just tell me, please.” His mouth soured as the last word left his mouth subconsciously. 

“Since you asked so nicely, and since I really don’t have much time to waste on you, let me tell you why you’re here today.”

Tommy grit his teeth. The fucker always drew everything out for as long as he could. Dramatic bitch.

Dream pulled out his phone, pointed the camera at Tommy. “You’re going to pose for a picture, and a video, that I can send to your little buddies. And you’re not going to make this any harder than it has to be. Understood?”

Tommy nearly sighed in relief. This wouldn’t be that bad. At least it wasn’t torture.

“Understood.”

“Good.” Dream said condescendingly. “Now, smile for the camera.”

That was odd. Tommy would’ve thought Dream would beat him up or something to send a message. 

Well, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He smiled, doing his best to make it look convincing. 

“Good, now I need you to say exactly what I tell you.” 

Tommy tensed further, wariness heightened to full capacity. “..okay.” He answered tentatively.

“Hi guys, I’m okay. I’m safe here, you don’t need to come after me. I’ll be fine on my own, Dream’s been treating me pretty well, but if you come for me he’ll kill me.” Dream said,voice dripping with malicious glee. 

Tommy felt the blood drain away from his face as he paled. No-he couldn’t- The others were the only hope he had of getting out, of escaping , he couldn’t say that, what if they believed him? Was it true? Would Dream- would he kill him if they came?

What if they didn’t come? ( They’re probably not coming anyway , his brain hissed.)

What if they did, and it was true?

Tommy shook his head, building up a bit of courage. “I-I won’t say it.” 

Dream’s grin dropped. “Is that really the hill you want to die on, Tommy? Have you already forgotten what happens to children who don’t do as they’re told?”

Tommy flinched, but held his ground. 

A year away from Dream had built up a little bit of his long-lost courage, and he would not let Dream dictate his life anymore.

He was better than that.

Dream sighed, as if he was disappointed, and kicked Tommy in the side, effectively throwing him off the chair. Tommy landed on the floor with a loud thud and a groan. 

What the fuck, had Dream worn steel-toed boots?! There was no way he wasn’t at least bruised. 

“Now, are you going to sit back down in the chair and say what I fucking want you to, or do you need more convincing? ” The older of the two asked scornfully.

Tommy pushed himself up into a sitting position but made no move to get up. A bruise or two was worth the chance of escape, he reminded himself. 

He’d handled worse.

There was another kick to the same spot, sending waves of pain through Tommy’s side. The teenager gasped as he sprawled back on to the floor, helpless against the overwhelming force.

Another kick. 

Tommy felt something crack, and a scream ripped itself from his throat.

Yeah, nope, not worth it, fuck this was a bad decision.

“STOP! Stop, I’ll do it, please just stop.” Tommy could feel the tears tracing down his cheeks. 

“Now that’s what I like to hear!” 

He gasped violently as he was pulled into a sitting position, causing him to cough profusely.

Blood splattered from his mouth and onto the floor.

Tommy ran his tongue across his teeth and tasted iron.

Internal bleeding, then. That wasn’t good.

And then, he saw it.

The ring.

The ring had fallen out of where he’d tucked it underneath his hoodie, meaning that Dream could see it.

Fuck .

“Oh? What’s this?” Dream asked, crouching down to Tommy’s level and leaning forward. 

Tommy couldn’t help the way he froze when Dream took the silver band between his fingers, and he couldn’t help the strangled “don’t” that escaped his lips as the masked man began twirling it around.

“Hm, this is quite pretty you know? I think I might just keep it.”

Eyes blown impossibly wide, Tommy felt panic began to set in as cold hands made their way to the back of his neck. 

“No, no, please, I’ll do anything, please-”

The necklace clicked open, and suddenly the chain was in Dream’s hands and Tommy couldn’t breathe .

“Be a good boy like I taught you and maybe I’ll give this back, alright Tommy?”

Frantically, the small boy nodded.

He couldn’t let Dream keep that ring- he just couldn’t .

With a shaking body, Tommy hauled himself onto the chair, taking a moment to observe Dream. 

The green fucker was standing right in front of Tommy, his phone’s camera still pointed at the boy. 

The smile on his mask stared at Tommy, unwavering. 

Tommy felt sick. 

“Alright, you know what to do.” Dream pressed a button. Tommy took a deep breath and smiled, trying to ignore the pain, the fear, and the everything that was currently overwhelming him.

“Hey guys, I’m alright. I’m safe here.” Tommy nearly cringed as he thought of his newly probably cracked or broken rib(s?). “You don’t need to come after me. I’ll be fine on my own, Dream’s been treating me pretty well, but if you come for me he’ll kill me.” 

He couldn’t decide if he wanted them to believe him or not.

Chapter Text

A soft red glow emanated from the locket as Phil held it gently in his hands, drawn in by its beauty.

The pendant was shaped like a heart, made of what Phil found out was ‘white glowstone’, a material that was near impossible to find.

It was lined with netherite, with two netherite pieces symmetrical to each other embedded in the heart. Like a hardcore heart in Minecraft.

Of course Kristen designed it like that, Phil thought fondly.

The letter and the books sat on his nightstand, still unopened. Phil hadn’t worked up the courage to look at them.

The chunk of material- more white glowstone- was tucked safely away in a secret panel under his closet.

But, well, Phil couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed.

When Kristen left him the letter, telling him to open it if she didn’t make it back, he had thought it’s contents would be a goodbye, maybe a will or something along those lines. (She said she had a bad feeling about the job. That something might go wrong. She’d gone anyway, despite Phil’s protests

She had been right.)

Instead, all the letter contained was four sentences:

If I die, go to Vault 7 of Pandora’s Vault. Something very, very valuable is there. Trust me, you’ll want it. 

I love you, Phil.

Phil trusted Kristen with his life, with the world, with everything , even though she wasn’t even alive anymore. 

So he heeded her words and came up with an elaborate plan, manipulated and lied and cheated but he got what he had wanted. (Although, he wished they’d chosen to do the heist just a day earlier. He wished Dream hadn’t been there.)

Maybe it was the content of the books that was important.

And then, just as he was about to tuck it away and call it a night, the vibrant red began to fade, particles of red light floating away from it to create something in the air. 

The last of the red bled away from the necklace, turning it back to stark white. 

A mini Kristen, translucent and red, stood on the pendant with a smile. 

“Hi, Phil.” The words echoed slightly, but there was no doubt about it. This was his Kristen.

“..Kris?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Bet you missed me, didn’t you? You’re such a simp. Going so far just because I told you to- yeah, that’s my Phil alright.” She teased, smile growing.

Phil felt his eyes burn with tears, a lump growing in his throat. 

“Kris, you’re dead.” He managed to choke out.

“As if death could stop me from seeing you again.”

At that, the tears began to fall, one after the other in rapid succession as he realized that Kristen was here .

Something akin to a small breeze brushed his cheek.

Phil blinked away the tears and saw Kristen’s small hand cupping a bit of his cheek.

“I’m here, Phil. I’m here.”

The words were warm, sweet, kind, everything he remembered them to be .

“How?”

Kristen laughed a bit at that. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Phil sniffled, wiping away his tears and giving his wife a wobbly smile. “Try me.”

“White glowstone actually has the ability to hold a whole human soul- not like the spirits that you see hanging around, they’re not whole- and keep it there until the glowstone is broken. All you have to do is bind the glowstone to yourself with some blood and it’s done. Or, at least, that’s what I read-”

“Kris, what the fuck.”

“Shhhh, hear me out. I was working on an identical one for you so we could spend the rest of our days together even in death, but apparently glowstone mechanics are a lot more complicated than that. Phil, did you know that gods are real?”

“You’re fucking with me-”

“I’m actually not! That’s the worst part! Because I met the goddess of death- total bitch, by the way- and she refused to let me just go back so I told her to fight me and- well, long story short, I became the goddess of death.”

Phil stared at his wife- his ghost-goddess-soul wife- and sighed. 

“Of course you fought god and won.”

Kristen giggled. “Oh come on Phil, it was just so I could come back for you! But, uh, about that, I can’t really stay like-” Kristen gestured to herself. “This for long. I kinda may or may not have godly duties now so-”

Phil couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m married to a literal goddess.”

“I swear you called me that before I even died.”

“I probably did.” Phil agreed, smiling lightly. 

“How much more time do you have?”

“Just an hour or so, unfortunately. But hey, it’s better than nothing! Tell me, how’ve you been? What have you been up to?”

Phil huffed, heart panging with sadness at the idea of the love of his life leaving again . “Well, I took over a mafia, learned to bake, mentally adopted a child and an adult, reconciled with my other child, broke into the world’s most secure vault, and failed to save said mentally adopted child from being kidnapped. What about you, Kris? What did you do other than fight god? ”

Kristen winced. “Oof, I’m assuming you’re already coming up with a plan to get your kid back?”

“Well yeah, obviously. What do you take me for, a dumbass? It’s just complicated because I need to start my search from scratch.”

“How come?”

Phil sighed. “He’d just escaped from prison when we met him. It was the world’s worst coincidence.”

Kristen frowned, patting his cheek again. “Oh. Well, if I can help, I’d be happy too.”

“Thanks Kris.”

“On another note, I mentally adopted a child too! Well, he’s not really a child, he is 18, but you know.”

Phil nodded, smiling. “I know so well.”

Kristen shook her head fondly. “You and your dad-ness. He’s very funny though, you’d like him.”

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“Well, he calls himself Purpled….”

Chapter Text

“So remind me why we’re sitting here uselessly rather than searching for Innit ?”

“Wilbur, please, it’s goin’ to take time.”

“Well according to you, Dream has no fucking reason to even keep him alive! What if he dies by the time we get to him? We need to go, now!”

“Wil, we have no idea where to even start, we can’t let him know we’re comin’!”

Wilbur was growing more and more irritated with each new word out of Techno’s mouth.  The pink haired fucker knew Innit’s age, knew about the whole situation-

Or, at least, what he didn’t know, he could’ve gotten out of the kid, Ranboo or whatever the fuck his name was, and he didn’t even bother to figure out the whole story!

Innit- Tommy - had gone through so much, the poor kid. Wilbur understood now better than ever why Tommy had been so hesitant to trust him. Dream, the rat bastard, had been terrible to him.

And now Tommy was back with him.

And no one was letting him go out to search for his missing friend.

Wilbur stood up, eyes blazing with fury.

“Innit is with the man who was his abuser for YEARS, Techno, I don’t care! I’m going to search for him, no matter what you have to say, and you can’t fucking stop me.”

Techno got up too, annoyance clear as day on his face as he opened his mouth to argue again.

“Wilbur.” Phil interjected, colder than Wilbur had ever heard him. 

“What, Phil? Are you going to tell me to wait? That we don’t have information? Because I’m telling you now, I don’t care. ”

Phil simply turned his phone’s screen to face Wilbur.

Immediately, he froze.

On the screen was a picture of Tommy, smiling at the camera as if everything was fine.

But Wilbur knew Tommy better than that, and he could see the uncertainty, the fear in his expression, the tenseness (that word just feels wrong, even though it’s grammatically correct) of his shoulders clearly showing discomfort.

And then Phil swiped, switching to a video, a nd pressed play.

The video showed Tommy exhaling, and plastering a smile- clearly fake - onto his face.

“Hey guys, I’m alright. I’m safe here.” Tommy said. “You don’t need to come after me. I’ll be fine on my own, Dream’s been treating me pretty well, but if you come for me he’ll kill me.”

There was a lot of difference between the picture and the video, Wilbur noticed, even though they seemed to have been taken in quick succession.

For one, where Tommy had looked uncertain in the picture, he looked scared in the video.

For two, the rims of his eyes, his nose, and his cheeks were all more red than they had been in the picture. There was some red- blood?- On his teeth, the sight of which made Wilbur’s blood boil.

And for three…

“The ring.” Wilbur breathed, eyes glued to the frame the video had ended on. “The ring disappeared between the picture and the video.”

In the picture, the light had glinted off the chain still hanging faithfully around Tommy’s neck, barely visible around the collar of the hoodie.

In the video, the chain was nowhere to be seen.

Phil turned the phone back, flicking through the two as understanding dawned in his eyes. 

“Fuck.” Techno said, slumping back into his seat. “I hadn’t noticed that.”

“You saw it?” Wibur said, slightly hurt that Phil decided to show Techno before him.

“Dream sent it to me. I sent it to Phil to see if we could track the location.”

“Oh.”

Slowly, Wilbur sat back down as the anger drained out of him.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Techno said quietly.

“Did you find anything?” 

“Not yet.” Phil admitted. “Bee and Nether are working on it.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll get him back, Wil. I know we will.” Techno said sincerely.

“... Yeah.”

Phil sighed. “Do you two want to help me search for information on Dream?”

Wilbur perked up. “Yeah.” he said, smiling gratefully at Phil.

Phil left to go get his laptop.

“Hey, Tech.” Wilbur started, wondering if now was a good time to ask questions or not.

On one hand, Techno was vulnerable, so he might get answers, but on the other hand, Techno was unstable, so he might get harsh anger.

“Yeah?”

He decided to go for it.

“Why didn’t you tell us about Innit before? Why didn’t you get the story out of Ranboo earlier?”

Techno shot him a look Wilbur couldn’t read.

“Wilbur, you've bragged about bein' 'emotionally intelligent'," Techno said, using air quotes around the last two words, "more times than I can count. Those questions aren't that hard to figure out the answers to."

“What do you mean?”

Techno sighed. 

“Innit wanted to keep his identity a secret, and I care about him, so I didn’t tell you guys. And before you get butthurt about that, Innit probably wouldn’t have told me of his own volition. I found out through circumstance.”

That made sense.

“... and Ranboo?” 

“Would you force your brother into talking about his traumatic experiences? I didn’t know this was going to happen, Wilbur.”

Shame and guilt made his cheeks burn as he looked away from Techno.

How had he not gotten that? How had he not realized? He was supposed to be good at understanding emotions. 

“Ah... Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Wilbur.”

Phil chose that moment to return.

“Sorry boys, just had something to check on.”

Phil set the laptop down with three notebooks and pencils, sitting down next to Techno and beckoning Wilbur over.

“Now,” he said, cracking his knuckles, “It’s time to get to work.”

-----

It took them 30 minutes to get the first lead.

The lead being a blurry photo of someone with clout goggles in a blue supreme shirt, suspected to be Dream’s right hand man, NotFound.

“Hold on.” Wilbur said, staring at the photo. “Isn’t that 404?”

Phil gasped. “That’s it! NotFound is 404! It makes sense, even namewise! Error 404, Error not found! Oh my god, Wilbur, you’re amazing-”

“Woah woah woah, aren’t you jumpin’ to conclusions a bit too fast, Phil? The photo isn’t even confirmed to be Notfound. It could just be some random hypebeast.”

Phil slumped back into his seat. “You’re right.” he mumbled miserably.

Techno nudged Phil’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s look into it more. We’ll figure it out.”

-----

Phil played the audio clip again.

“Yeah, that’s definitely 404. And I think that might be Flame?”

-----

It was 4 am when Phil finally solved the mystery, sitting alone in his dark room.

“That’s it! 404 is Notfound, who was George Wilson, and Flame is Sapnap, who was Nick Collins! It makes perfect sense, and ties perfectly into their childhoods.”

Phil muttered under his breath, proceeding to hum thoughtfully. “But if they’ve been best friends since Dream was Clay, why’d they make Kinoko? Why didn’t they get Dream out of prison? Was there some kind of betrayal? Were they disgusted by the experimentation? Will they welcome Dream back when the news comes out that he escaped?”

Phil felt his necklace thrum harsher than usual, falling out of sync with his heartbeat. Particles of light bent together, quickly creating the figure of his beloved.

He didn’t think it would ever stop being mesmerizing.

“Sweetheart,” Kristen said softly. “You need to sleep to help Tommy. You won’t be able to do anything if you’re exhausted.”

Phil sighed, running a hand through his already messed up hair, “I know, I just need to find out more-”

“You can do it tomorrow.” Kristen said firmly. “What you need right now is sleep .”

“Okay.” Phil said as another yawn forced itself out of his mouth.  “I’ll sleep.”

Kristen folded her arms. “I’m staying right here until you do.”

Phil stretched out his arms, sighing in relief as he felt joints pop.

“Meanie.”

Chapter Text

“Chat, come watch.”

TECHNO!!!!!!

WE MISSED YOU!!!!

Technolate

Technolate

E

DO WE GET BLOOD

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

With a fond huff, Techno replied to the voices in his head.

“Not yet chat, be patient. Today, I need your help.”

Is everything okay?

I would kill for you

Blood for the blood god?

“Innit was kidnapped by Dream. I need help finding him.”

Sorry Tech, we can’t tell you things you don’t know about, divine laws and all that

Yeah I am not down for an eternity of torture, even for the kid

TECHNOPROTECT

Kid is gone :((((

Get the kid back!!

MURDER DREAM

“Yes, yes, don’t worry, we’ll kill him. I don’t need you to tell me where he is, although that would be rather nice. I need you to tell me if these two audio clips sound like they’re the same voice.”

Alright

Sounds good!!!

Anything for the child

Techno played the clips, biting his lip in anticipation as chat went silent.

Oh yeah, definitely

They sound almost identical

For sure!

A sigh of relief spilled past his lips. They finally had a solid lead, and Techno was going to chase it down until it led him to Tommy.

“Alright, bye chat.”

WAIT NO LET US STAY

TECHNO WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN US

PLS I NEED MORE CONTENT I’M STARVED

With a roll of his eyes and an amused huff, Techno said the words that held power over the voices. “I’ll see you later. Now, leave, chat .”

His head abruptly went silent.

-------

“Honestly, Phil, I can’t believe you would upstage me like this. You really figured out their identities and even organized a meetin’ all on your own? I can’t believe you.”

Phil grinned sheepishly as he fastened his eyemask to his face. “I didn’t mean to! You know you did very well with what you had, Tech.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Philza.”
“Philza?” Wilbur asked incredulously. 

Techno raised his eyebrows, suddenly much more amused. “You didn’t know? That’s his real name.”

“Who the fuck names their child Philza?!”

“My parents, apparently.” Phil said with a sigh and a glare sent Techno’s way.

Wibur snorted. “Oh, Innit’s going to have a field day over this.”

Silence.

Wilbur really did know how to make a conversation awkward effortlessly, huh?

Phil cleared his throat. “We should go.”

“Please” Wilbur breathed, sagging in relief.

L.

------

“What did you call us here for, Phil?” 404 asked, voice smooth and cold as he stood with Flame and Swirl by his side. 

“Information. On Dream.” Phil kept his words short and clipped, not dragging the meeting on any longer than it had to be.

404 stiffened visibly, and then relaxed again. 

“What makes you think I know anything about some former mafia boss?”

“I think you know plenty, George Wilson.” Phil said, placing extra emphasis on the name.

It got the desired reaction.

404- George- immediately tensed and got into a fighting stance.

Oh no, they were going to fight! Techno definitely hadn’t been looking forward to it or anything like that.

“How the fuck did you know that?!” Flame screeched angrily.

Techno’s poor, poor ears.

“That doesn’t matter. What does matter, is that I don’t see any reason to use my information against you, so long as you tell me everything you know about Dream, Nick Collins.”

Ah, that really drove the point home, and suddenly George wasn’t in a fighting stance anymore, which left Techno kind of disappointed.

“Fine, Phil. Have it your way. I don’t particularly care for that asshole anyways.”

George spat.

Phil clapped his hands. “Wonderful! Give me the locations of all of Dream’s secret safehouses and the contact info of any of Dream’s subordinates or contacts that didn’t hate Dream after his court case.”

George sighed and held out his hand expectantly. “You really didn’t have to threaten me for that information, you know.”

Phil shrugged and placed a notepad and pen in the gang leader’s hand. 

“You can never be too careful.”

A tense silence fell over the 6 of them as George wrote.

If he was honest, Techno was starting to get bored.

He tapped his feet on the floor as he thought, and the most brilliant idea popped into his brain. 

“Yo, Flame, wanna spar?” He asked casually.

Flame stared at him for a long moment,

“... Is that a no?”

Flame sighed, looked at Swirl, who shrugged, and then turned his attention back to Techno.

“You know what, sure, let’s spar.”

Techno grinned eagerly under his mask. 

Things were about to get fun .

------

“As entertaining as it was to watch Tech absolutely obliterate Flame, is there anything important in the info we got?” Wilbur asked, face colored with anticipation.

Phil hummed thoughtfully. “I think the second contact 404 gave us might be a solid lead. Apparently, Punz used to work closely with Dream as an information broker and arms dealer, but took lots of odd jobs from him too. According to 404, Punz never really cared what the job was or who he was doing it for as long as he got money out of it, so it’s likely the whole ‘Dream being a dick’ thing doesn’t phase him.”

“So,” Techno said, placing his incredibly gorgeous elbows on the table. “What’s the plan?”

Phil shrugged. “We’ll bribe Punz.”

------

“You know,” Techno commented as Phil placed his phone back onto the table. “I really didn’t expect that to go as well as it did.”

Phil chuckled, seeming much lighter than he had been at the beginning of the call. 

“We lucked out, I guess.”

Wilbur cheered, throwing both arms in the air. “It’s time to get my baby brother back!”

Silence.

And then Techno was cackling, not a care in the world for how loud he was being as he laughed. 

“Oh my god,” Techno said between wheezes. “You called him-”

More cackling.

“You called him your baby brother.”

Techno couldn’t help the laughter that spilled out of him like overflowing water, the relief of knowing they could get to Tommy soothing him into letting loose.

As Techno finally started to calm down, he looked back at Wilbur.

And promptly started cackling again at the sight of Wilbur with a tomato red face, soundlessly opening and closing his mouth as if he physically couldn’t say a word.

Chapter Text

Wilbur took a deep, steadying breath as he re-checked the contents of his bag, making sure everything was still there before checking that all his knives were still well hidden and ensuring that his gun was loaded.

“Wilbur,” Techno said dryly from the front seat of the car, “This is the fifth time you’ve done that. Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Wilbur replied tightly, anticipation buzzing in his veins like a drug. “Just a little anxious.”

“Aw, mate,” Phil cooed softly as he took a turn, “I’m sure we’ll find Tommy. I checked that this was the place we had to go plenty of times. Without a shadow of a doubt, Dream is here.” He finished confidently.

Wilbur wrung his hands together, his anxiety soothed the tiniest bit. 

“I’m just worried something will happen to him before we get there.” He admitted quietly.

In the corner of his eye, Wilbur saw Techno stiffen before Phil spoke up again.

“Well, there’s really not much we can do about that except get there as fast as possible.” 

Phil sighed. “Tommy’s strong. I know he’ll stay alive until we get there.” 

Wilbur closed his eyes and drank in the confidence in Phil’s tone, trying his hardest to make it his own.

-----

Carefully, Wilbur observed Bee, pretending to re-check his bag as he watched the short boy speak to Phil from the corner of his eye.

Tense posture, cold, clinical wording but a slightly aggressive tone, a tapping foot and a mild tremble to his hands.

It was likely Bee was worried and anxious, most likely trying to hide it so it wouldn’t be exploited. It was also probable that Bee blamed them for what happened to Tommy, which was pretty reasonable, but definitely would hurt Wilbur’s chances of getting along with him.

Judging from the cold tone and the few stories about him that Wilbur had heard from Innit, Bee was perceptive and didn’t take anyone’s shit. The best idea he had for not pissing the boy off was to stay business-like and not waste any more time talking to him than he had to. Bee would probably appreciate it, and Wilbur would be lying if he said that wasn’t what he wanted to do as well.

He could barely wait until Bee finished instructing Phil about the bombs to rush in and find Tommy.

Finally, Phil stuffed two of the bombs into his backpack and was handed the third one with a threat to “be fucking careful”. 

Fundy did a quick check to make sure all their walkie talkies were working, and just like that, it was go time.

With quick, light steps, Wilbur ran behind Phil, who looked utterly gleeful with the bomb in his hands, and Techno, who was easily staying ahead of Wilbur despite the undoubtedly heavy netherite axe held tightly in his hands.

Really, how strong was he?!

-----

It took 15 minutes, which was already 15 minutes too many, for Wilbur to find Tommy.

Finally, panting from the exertion, Wilbur threw open what felt like the hundredth door he’d come across with reckless abandon, and immediately froze.

The rapid thump-thump of his heartbeat echoed in his ears as he stared at the scene in front of him, unable to tear his eyes away.

There, on white sheets stained red, with an unmoving chest and bloodsoaked clothes, was Tommy .

Tommy, laying pale and unconscious (unconscious. He had to be unconscious.) on the bed.

It took a couple seconds for Wilbur to come back to his senses and remember that he should do something other than stand there, but as soon as he did he walked over to the bed with wobbly knees and shaky hands.

Carefully, he pressed on the inside of Tommy’s wrist, gripping harder and harder as he failed to find one.

The shakiness in his hands increased as he removed them from Tommy’s cold wrist and instead began pressing around his neck, searching desperately for a pulse.

Wilbur kept trying- he tried CPR, tried to feel wind under Tommy’s nose, tried over and over to find a pulse.

He didn’t find one.

APRIL FOOLS (sjdjhdh I'm sorry I had to-)

There, on white sheets stained red, with a trembling chest and bloodsoaked clothes, was Tommy .

Tommy, who blinked at him with unfocused eyes, who smiled pathetically after a long, long moment and quietly said, “Hey Wilb’r.”

It took a couple seconds for Wilbur to come back to his senses and remember that he should do something other than stand there, but as soon as he did he walked over to the bed with wobbly knees and shaky hands.

“Hi Toms,” He said, unable to keep the terror he was feeling out of his voice.

Carefully, he pressed on the inside of Tommy’s wrist, feeling around for a pulse until he felt a fairly steady thrum under his thumb.

He breathed out in relief and gave Tommy a soft smile. “It’s okay, I’m here now. It’ll be okay.”

“M’kay Wilby,” Tommy mumbled, blinking lethargically, “‘m sleepy.”
“No no no no no,” Wilbur said, flinching at his own volume, “Stay awake, don’t fall asleep. You can’t go to sleep. Promise me, Toms, please-”

“Okay, Wil. ‘f tha’s what you wan’.” The blond interrupted, words slurred.

Gently, Wilbur moved the younger’s unnaturally pale hands away from his stomach, eyes widening as they came away drenched in blood.

With still-shaky hands, Wilbur set his backpack onto the bed and pulled out his first aid kit, unbelievably relieved that Phil had reminded him to pack it.

He cut away the bloodied cloth that clung to Tommy’s body, darkest near his stomach and gasped quietly as he saw the source of the blood; a large stab wound near his stomach.

With another deep breath, he began to wipe away the blood on Tommy’s skin with a clean cloth, thankful that it hadn’t dried, periodically checking that Tommy was still awake. 

Wilbur bit his lip, debating whether or not he should take the time to disinfect the wound or not, but ultimately decided against it.

Disinfection would mean it would take more time to get Tommy up to Phil’s car and back home, where they could do more about his injury.

So, Wilbur began to wrap the stab wound with bandages, careful to apply pressure but not wrap it too tight.

“Okay, Tommy, can you take a deep breath for me?” Wilbur asked anxiously.

He obeyed, taking a long breath in and exhaling with a wince. 

The breath was clear, perfectly normal, making Wilbur heave a sigh of relief.

Tommy was still breathing well; there was nothing wrong with his lungs.

Thank fuck .

“Is it okay if I give you a piggyback ride back to Phil’s car, Toms?” He inquired, taking a second to card a hand through Tommy’s hair.

“‘Kay,” Tommy replied, his mind clearly still muddled.

As quickly as he could, Wilbur pulled off his hoodie and tied it on top of the bandaging, hoping it would be enough to keep the wound from being jostled.

He proceeded to move Tommy closer to the edge of the bed and wrapped the younger boy’s pale arms around his neck.

Then, as gently as he could, he maneuvered Tommy so his legs were hanging off the edge of the bed and hooked his own arms under them, carefully hoisting Tommy onto his back and standing up properly.

Wilbur reveled in the way he could feel the movement of Tommy’s chest as the blond breathed, and began to walk back to the car as fast as he could without hurting Tommy.

-----

Wilbur, surprisingly enough, wasn’t the last one to make it back, although he wasn’t first either.

When he emerged from the dilapidated building, Phil had already been standing there, exchanging words with Bee.

As soon as they caught sight of him, and by extension Tommy, they were running towards him, all angry and worried yells of, “what happened?!” and “why didn’t you say anything on the walkie talkie?!” 

Oh yeah.

He’d forgotten to tell everyone about finding Tommy.

Oops.

Nevertheless, they seemed to see something in his eyes, because they quieted down fairly quickly as they came closer, fixing their attention on the injured boy on his back rather than him. 

They had laid Tommy down in the backseat of the car, and Wilbur was just finishing his explanation of what happened when Techno came out of the building, blood splattered on his mask and dripping slowly from his split lip.

He was, of course, dragging Dream’s body across the rough cement by one hand, bruised and bloodied far worse than Techno was.

Wilbur grinned.

He was going to have so much fun torturing that fucker.

With Dream tied up in Wilbur’s car and Tommy swaddled in blankets in Phil’s, it was finally time for the finale, of sorts.

A final “fuck you”.

Wilbur let himself grin wide and feral as Bee held the detonator in his small, gloved hands.

The button was pressed.

The building exploded with a deafening boom , debris flying through the air but never reaching where they stood.

A blaze of reds and oranges and yellows brightened the night sky, smoke rising to meet the clouds as the fire warmed the cold night.

It was beautiful.

Wilbur laughed, loud and clear and unimaginably relieved because Tommy would be okay. 

It wasn’t long before several more voices joined him, a moment of shared happiness on an anxiety-filled day.

Really, he never should’ve doubted Phil.

Chapter Text

Tubbo glared at every person in the room individually and crossed his arms. 

“I’ll let him stay here for now but the moment he’s off that IV, I’m taking him back home.” He bit out venomously. 

Phil extended an arm towards him like he was going to pat his shoulder, but wisely withdrew it. 

Yeah, that’s what he fucking thought, bitch. 

The blond sighed. “Listen mate, I know both of you are perfectly capable of handling yourselves, but Tommy-” 

“That’s Innit to you.” Tubbo hissed, intensifying his glare. 

Phil winced, but corrected himself. “Innit is really injured, and Techno, Wilbur and I have a lot more experience than you two do. If we were around, Innit’s recovery would be faster. I know it might sound patronizing, but everyone needs help sometimes, and this is one of those times. Please, just think about letting him stay okay, mate?”

Pleading blue eyes met Tubbo’s.

The older man’s mask was off. ‘As a display of trust,’ he’d said.

Tubbo called bullshit. 

But then again, he did make some good points. Tubbo didn’t have the equipment or the knowledge to treat Tommy.

So he sighed, let his arms fall to his sides in defeat, and relented. 

“Okay, but only until it’s necessary.”

Phil brightened visibly and gave Tubbo a giant, beaming grin. “Thank you so much, mate!”

The smile did not make Tubbo feel better. It did not .

---------------

Living with Tommy’s teammates was weird, to say the least. They were all so nice to Tubbo, it was driving him crazy. 

What did they want? What was their plan? Why hadn’t they just kicked Tubbo out and forced him away from Tommy like he had assumed they would?

They were weird. 

They gave Tubbo his own room, with soft blankets and fluffy pillows and even a fucking nightlight. 

They invited him to eat dinner with them and left a plate filled with food outside his door when he declined. 

(Tubbo would never admit it, but he scarfed the food down the moment he confirmed it wasn’t poisoned. It had tasted incredible . He finally understood Tommy’s rants about wishing he could give some to Tubbo.)

They never forced Tubbo to speak to them, or even leave Tommy’s side when they came in. 

He almost felt guilty for being rude to them with how kind they were being, but each time the guilt began to creep up, he reminded himself that they were the reason Tommy got sent back to Dream, and they were the people that had Tommy. 

He would not risk letting his guard down around them. He was never letting Tommy be taken away again. Ever.

So he kept being rude and rash and he kept ignoring the sad looks Techno and Phil gave him.

It was necessary; he just knew they were planning something. 

A knock sounded on his door. “Hi mate, can you chat for a second?”

Immediately, Tubbo slipped on his cloth mask and shook off the exhaustion from staying up all night looking after Tommy. 

He slipped out the door and shut it behind him, looking over Phil to see if there was anything off or suspicious. 

He didn’t find anything. 

Phil smiled when Tubbo met his eyes. “I was just wondering if you’d be alright getting some clothes for Innit from your place? It’s a bit hot for hoodies and the rest of my clothes are a bit…” Phil’s smile became strained. “Cropped… on him.”

Tubbo nearly snorted, but kept up his icy exterior. 

Lmao. Phil was short. ( Shhhhhh he was ignoring the fact that he was shorter.)

“And leave him alone with you all?”

“I could come with you, if you’d like. Wilbur’s out getting stuff from his own place, and someone needs to stay behind in case Innit wakes up.”

Tubbo hummed thoughtfully. 

Out of the three of them, he easily trusted Techno the most, so it would be best to have him be the one left behind with Tommy…

And since he would eventually have to leave to get Tommy’s and his own stuff, it would be best to do that when Wilbur wasn’t at the house….

Grudgingly, Tubbo accepted the offer. “Fine.”

He was really starting to hate Phil’s ability to somehow know exactly what Tubbo wanted to hear.

“Perfect, let me just get my keys.”

-------------

Phil was mildly insufferable, as Tubbo found out very quickly . 

The car ride from Phil’s place to their apartment complex was only about 30 minutes- but it felt as if it had been hours.

Despite Tubbo’s continued silence, Phil refused to shut up.

It wasn’t even like he was trying to get Tubbo to talk!

After he’d stubbornly stayed silent for the first few minutes of the car ride and ignored all of Phil’s questions, Phil had just… stopped asking questions. Instead, he told stories, oddly enough.

Some Tubbo had heard from Tommy, and others were entirely new. It was kind of confusing, because Tubbo just didn’t get Phil.

Clearly he could convince Tubbo to do whatever he wanted, clearly he was respected by the others, clearly he was the one that held the power because they were all staying over at his house, and yet Phil continued to be kind.

It was insanely frustrating, so when they finally reached Tubbo and Tommy’s worn down apartment building and Phil opened his big, fat, stupid mouth to say something, Tubbo was very much on the edge of blowing up.

“Why here?” Phil asked, curious and innocent, and Tubbo found himself deflating at the tone. 

Seriously, fuck Phil and his uncanny ability to know what to say. Tubbo glared, hoping his confusion didn’t show on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Phil said, keeping his voice light, “That Innit is a great thief. Definitely good enough to make a good bit of cash. It’s a bit odd that you chose to live here instead of a nicer place, is all.”

Tubbo snorted, mind flashing back to the hundreds of arguments that had piled up within the past year and a half. 

“Tommy’s a disgustingly good person,” He answered, a little annoyed at how obviously fond he sounded, “He hates pickpocketing and stealing from the local stores where everyone is just trying to get by. We don’t really have the equipment or the amount of people it would take to rob a bank or a corporation without some external help so…”

Tubbo shrugged. “We ended up taking odd thievery jobs. It’s not really that common to hire someone to do what we do, so it’s not exactly well paying.”

Phil made a vague noise of understanding, staring at their apartment building with an odd look in his eyes.

“Well,” he said after a beat, “You’re welcome to stay with me for as long as you’d like.”
And really, Tubbo found he couldn’t do much more than stare in shock as Phil quietly left the car, gesturing for him to follow.

Chapter Text

The first thing that Tommy felt when he woke up was warmth, surrounding him in a soft little bubble of safety.

The second thing was the pain. 

Vaguely, he registered a beeping sound getting faster and faster, but his focus was mostly on the near-blinding pain close to his stomach, and the comparatively softer ache in his ribs. 

Disoriented, he tried to feel the area and get whatever was causing the hurt to stop , but his hand hitting his wound only worsened the pain and made him scream from how agonizing it was.

Tommy’s back arched up from the bed he was on in an attempt to get away, make it stop, please- but that only jostled his ribs more and caused another wave of pain to wash over him.

He cried out, not even noticing the hot tears trailing down his face or the loud, panicked voices so, so close to him. 

He sobbed as his back hit the bed after its arch, the sheer pain of it finally enough to knock him out and send him into blissful unconsciousness.

------

The next time Tommy woke up, the pain was far more manageable, more of an ache really. 

It made the warmth much, much easier to enjoy. 

He let out a happy sigh as the blankets cocooned him in an almost gentle kind of heat, not too hot yet not too cold.

Goldilocks would’ve loved it.

Tommy snorted at the thought, startling when a cold hand came under his blankets to clutch his own not a moment later. 

“Tommy? Tommy, can you hear me?” A high voice asked, sounding rather panicked.

It sounded oddly familiar. 

Tommy wanted to reach out and comfort the person with the cold hands for reasons he didn’t know, wanted to take the panic out of the kind-sounding voice. 

Who was this Tommy they were talking to anyway? 

He kinda wanted to meet them. He had the same name as them!

“Tommy, please,” the voice pleaded, the now-warm hand in his tightening its grip. “Please, talk to me. Wake up, Tommy, please.”

“Please just be okay.” 

The voice whispered the last sentence, sounding so devastated it hurt something deep inside Tommy’s chest.

…

Wait.

That was-

“T’bo” Tommy groaned out, some semblance of awareness finally returning to him. Everything felt oddly loopy, but he’d recognize his best friend anywhere.

“TOMMY!” Tubbo yelled, the words making Tommy flinch. 

“Sorry,” Tubbo said, thankfully quieter, but just as ecstatic. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.” 

And oh. 

Tommy hadn’t known he could feel any warmer than he already had felt. 

 “Wha h’pen’d?” He slurred out, wondering when the spinniness in his head would finally go away. 

“Uh…” Tubbo coughed awkwardly. “I’ll tell you the details later. You… you got stabbed.”

Tommy felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion. Stabbed? By who-

The door burst open with a slam, an out of breath voice beginning to speak. 

“Is he awake?!” The mystery voice (wait, was that Wilbur?) asked, followed by the distant sound of footsteps. 

“Yes.” Tubbo said stiffly, the hand around his tightening its grip.

“Tommy’s awake?!'' Yet another voice, this time quieter than Wilbur’s. 

That was…. Phil?

Tommy was starting to get uncomfortable, not knowing what was going on in the room aside from the things he could make out with his hearing.

He wanted to open his eyes, but they felt so heavy . Now that he thought about it, everything felt heavy. Like his own body was trying to drag him farther and farther down. 

He was so tired. 

Tommy yawned, the noise in his ears beginning to fade into indecipherable mumbles. 

Before he knew it, he was asleep. 

--------

Harsh white light filtered through blond eyelashes as Tommy opened his eyes for what felt like the first time in forever. 

He blinked multiple times, trying to get rid of the fuzziness of his vision, before giving up and taking a second to observe his surroundings. 

Tommy was propped up into a slanted sitting position in the (hospital?) bed, with what felt like bandages pressing down around an aching area near his stomach. There was some kind of IV attached to his hand, which was the only body part of his aside from his head that wasn’t cocooned inside a thick, warm blue blanket. 

He turned a bit to one side and blurily saw Techno sitting in a chair near his bed, reading a book. 

He looked to the other side and was met with the sight of Phil, fast asleep with his cheek pressed to Tommy’s bed near his legs, hair messed up and drool leaking out of his open mouth. 

Tommy was hit with the absurd urge to draw on his face. 

He giggled a bit, which made Techno whip his head up comically.

He giggled more as the pink haired man stared at him, breaking out into laughter as he rubbed his eyes. 

This, of course, made Phil wake up with a delirious “huh?”, which only added to Tommy’s amusement. 

Suddenly, his wheezes of laughter turned to wheezes of pain as the muscles in his stomach contracted around his stab wound.

Vaguely, he saw Phil rush over the IV and do something with it, before he eventually managed to calm down. 

“...Good morning.” Tommy said awkwardly, trying for his signature grin. 

It probably came out more as a grimace, if he was being honest with himself.

Phil buried his face in his hands and Techno groaned, sounding absolutely done .

“Why the fuck are you like this, Tommy?” The oldest asked with a despairing tone. 

“It’s all the pogness I have.” He replied cheekily, the sharp edges of the pain beginning to fade, leaving him in a rather cheerful mood. 

“Glad to see you haven’t changed at all,” Techno huffed in amusement.

“Glad to be back, boys!” Tommy cheered, trying to push himself up into a proper sitting position. 

“Oh no you don't, you little shit!” Phil scolded, gently pushing him back down to the propped up bed. 

“You might feel better now, but it’s literally just the painkillers; you still have a fucking stab wound, Tommy. Speaking of which, are you okay with going to an underground doctor to get that stitched or do you want to go to an actual hospital?” 

“Uh, what’s the difference? And also I really can’t pay for a hospital or an undergro-” Tommy cut himself off, his eyes widening as he fully processed what Phil had just said. 

The soft, comfortable atmosphere of the room slipped away, and Tommy’s entire body tensed.

His eyes darted around the room, already working on a plan of escape. 

Silently, he cursed his weird dizziness and blurry vision as he frantically tried to think of ways to run . 

“Tommy? Are you alright mate?” Phil asked, concerned.

Tommy tensed further, and after a long couple seconds, he finally had a plan. 

He could yank his hand forward so the IV would fall forward, causing a distraction and hopefully incapacitating Phil; then he could use the distraction to hook his foot under the front leg of Techno’s chair and yank it forward so it toppled over and Techno was disoriented. Hopefully, that would buy him enough time to get to the door and then book it out of the house. The woods nearby would be easy enough to hide in. 

“Tommy?”

Tommy took a deep breath and got ready to execute his plan. 

“How do you know my name, Phil?” He asked cautiously, observing the other man’s face as well as he could. His expression went from shock, to guilt, to something almost like heartbreak. 

“Oh, mate.” Phil whispered. “You don’t remember?” 

That made Tommy pause. 

“Remember what?” He asked, for some reason terrified of hearing the answer. 

“You were kidnapped.” Techno answered stiffly as Phil just stared at him with that same expression that made him feel guilty for being its cause.

“By Dream.”

.

.

.

Ah. 

Right. 

He had been… ignoring it? 

Or maybe he’d just forgotten. 

That happened sometimes. 

Either way, that didn’t really explain how they knew his name…

Unless they’d met Dream?

Oh.

Maybe… maybe they had come to rescue him. 

All of a sudden, he felt weirdly fragile. Like the smallest thing could break him. 

“Where is he?” Tommy asked in that small, terrified voice he’d always despised. 

“Away.” Techno said firmly. “Far, far away, locked up and tied so that he can never get out.”

“But he got out of Pandora, didn’t he?”

“Trust me,” Phil said darkly. “There is no way he can even move more than a couple inches. Not after what I did to him.” 

Tommy didn’t question it. 

A few moments of tense silence passed.

“Anyways,” Techno said hastily, changing the subject. “You’re definitely not paying, both Phil and I are literal millionaires. We can cover it. The difference is just that an underground doctor would let you keep your identity secret, probably wouldn’t charge as much, would let us be in the room as they worked, and you wouldn’t be asked any questions about the stab wound.”

“Isn’t it kind of fucked up that an underground doctor would charge less than an actual hospital?” 

“Mate,” Phil said with a snort. “We live in L’manberg. That is probaby one of the least fucked up things about this place.”

“Yeahhh that’s fair actually.” 

“So?”

“Definitely an underground doctor. I am not paying some prissy assholes.”

----------

“Welcome to Tere’s Cafe, what can I get for you?” the barista asked cheerfully, a kind smile greeting them as they stepped into the homey cafe.

“Can I get a Cinilc coffee with 2 shots of espresso, 1 pump of hazelnut, no whipped cream and 3 sugar packets?” Phil ordered, responding with an equal amount of cheer

“Of course!” The woman said, writing down the ‘order’. “Who is this coffee for?”

“Oh, me and my friend Innit are going to share, but you can put down my name. It’s Phil, spelled P-H-I-L.” 

“Alright, that’s perfect! Your order will be ready in a minute or so. Can I know how you found out about our little cafe here?”

“My friend Eret recommended it to me.” 

“Ah, that makes sense, they come here quite often.”

“They say your coffee is the best of the best.”

“Well, I hope it lives up to their expectations.”

“I do as well.”

Lofi music played quietly through the small cafe as the few people there worked in relative silence. A ghost sat in the corner, holding a staring contest with a cat. Tubbo eyed Phil with something along the lines of confused annoyance, but didn’t say anything.

“Your order is ready! That’ll be 1.99$ please.” The barista said, sliding a cup over to Phil. 

He passed the money over and grabbed the cup and straw.

“Thank you for coming to Tere’s Cafe, we hope you enjoyed your stay!” She said in a perfected ‘customer service’ facade.

Phil nodded to the woman and left, waiting until he was safely back in his car to open the cup and look at the inside of the lid. 

“Phil, you literally just ordered a coffee, what the fuck . We were supposed to get the address for the underground doctor, weren’t we?” Tubbo asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

Wordlessly, Phil turned the inside of the lid towards the kid, letting him see the address written on it, and smiled as the puzzle pieces clicked and a look of realization passed over his face. 

“Ohhhh, that’s fucking brilliant.”

Phil laughed and agreed. “I said the same thing when I found out about it. It’s very pog isn’t it?”

“Phil, you're starting to sound like Tommy.”

Phil just chuckled and turned away, a warm feeling bubbling in his chest as he observed how much more comfortable Tubbo was around him. 

Now, if he could just kill the green bastard, he could begin Adoption Plan A.

Chapter Text

Stitches fucking hurt , Tommy thought as he stared down at the now sealed hole in his skin. 

The trip to the doctor’s had gone surprisingly well; apparently, there had been no major damage, and Tommy would be fine as long as he took his medicine and kept the wound clean and didn’t re-open it. His ribs had to be rebroken so that they’d heal right, but they would heal on their own if he let them be and didn’t ‘exert himself’ or whatever.

‘It’s like a miracle,’ the doctor, some weird bloke who wore sunglasses indoors, had said. ‘If the stab wound had been even a little deeper he’d probably be dead.’

After hearing that…

Well, Tommy was starting to think maybe the faceless lady who told him to ‘tell Phil she might not be coming back’ hadn’t been a hallucination after all.

Tommy sighed as Phil carefully wound bandages around his torso, quietly wondering if he should just bring it up.

Then again, it was a bit of a strange way to start a conversation, wasn’t it?

What was he supposed to say, “Hey Phil, do you happen to know any faceless women shrouded in black who claim to be godesses of death?”

Phil stared at him, easily tying up the gauze without looking.

He stared back.

“Yes, actually,” Phil said, sounding very bewildered. “How did you know that?”

Oh. He’d said that out loud.

Tommy closed his eyes, internally cursing his luck.

Of course it couldn’t have just been a hallucination.

“Well, you might wanna bring the others in,” He muttered defeatedly, “This is going to be one hell of a story.”

-----

Tubbo’s hand held his in a comforting grip as Wilbur shuffled into the room, taking a seat beside Techno. 

“So,” Wilbur said conversationally, “what’s up?”

Silence answered Wilbur’s question, thick and awkward, before Tommy eventually sighed. 

“I,” He said slowly, “am going to tell you all how I got this stab wound. It’s kind of a wild story, and I think part of it might have been a hallucination? Or maybe not. Either way, just, don’t interrupt.”

Curious but respectful, everyone nodded, and Tommy mustered up every bit of his resolve.

He took a deep breath, and began his story.

(This will be in the form of a flashback.)

(TW// Violence, Death, Blood)

Tommy twisted in his stiff bed a little, wincing as it made pain explode in his side. 

He’d been trying to fall asleep for nearly an hour at that point, unable to find a comfortable position.

He felt like absolute shit, his head pounding and his stomach churning. 

Thankfully, he’d only coughed up blood twice after the first time, so he was probably fine on the internal bleeding front.

As another shift caused nausea to hit him full force, he finally relented to his body’s demands and pulled himself into a sitting position, relaxing into uncomfortable white pillows.

Dream hadn’t come to visit him since he’d taken the video, aside from once to deliver food and water, and he had no idea how long he’d been trapped in the bland, cold room.

Or how much longer he was going to stay there. 

He’d tried to come up with escape plans on multiple occasions, but no matter how he tried to spin it, there was no way he could get out.

Tommy was injured, not even close to fighting condition, he could barely walk straight, and he had no idea where the exit was.

Yeah, it was kind of hopeless.

Tommy let his eyes slip shut, holding back tears as he wondered how much longer he would be in the small, barren room, right in the palm of Dream’s hand.

Last time, it had been nearly two years. 

He didn’t think he’d survive another two.

His eyes snapped open as he heard the thunder of footsteps approaching his room, a tear slipping out as sheer, unadulterated fear coursed through his body. 

Not even half a minute later, the door to Tommy’s door burst open, Dream’s thin frame appearing as an unwelcome guest in his doorway. 

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw a knife held in Dream’s shaking palm while the older stalked toward him. 

His breath quickened as the panic began to set in, eyes darting around the room to find a place to hide, run, something, anything.

He scrambled backwards, thin blankets tangling with his thin legs as he tried to get away, but Dream’s free hand came to clutch at his collar, holding him in his place as the man silently fumed. 

Tommy’s own hands came up to scratch uselessly against Dream’s, trying desperately to get it off.

“They came,” Dream said, voice dripping with so much fury and venom that it quickened Tommy’s incessant scratching, “They came for you.”

And if even a shred of hope flickered to life Tommy’s chest at the quiet admission, it was quickly drowned out as Dream continued. “They want to find you?” 

Dream laughed, a cruel, dark sound. “All they’re going to find is your corpse.”

The pain of having a cracked rib was nothing compared to the pain of being stabbed, Tommy found out. 

It didn’t register for a second, as Dream pushed off his shaky hands and let him crumple onto the bed. 

It was around when Dream slammed the door, footsteps growing distant, that Tommy felt it.

It was the worst pain Tommy had ever experienced, so intense that Tommy couldn’t feel or notice anything else.

All he remembered from that time was blurry shapes and pain , until a black-shrouded figure appeared by his bedside.

He remembered them with an odd clarity.

“It seems like he didn’t damage a major artery,” they mumbled, “Ribs are healing wrong but the lung puncture is closed… doesn’t seem like he’ll die before Phil gets him…”

The person mumbling was standing by his bedside, dressed head to toe in black, their face covered by a black veil. 

“Oh, you’ve noticed me,” they said, “It’s nice to finally meet you after hearing so much about you from Phil. I’m Kristen, the goddess of death”

She reached out a hand, cold palm touching Tommy’s cheek and taking away his pain. 

“Speaking of Phil…” she sighed sadly. “Tell him I’m sorry, but I might never be able to come back. The divine gave me a warning. If I’m caught, both of us will be punished.”

Tommy tried to open his mouth, tried to ask what was going on, but his body refused to work.

“Oh, looks like our time’s up,” The goddess said, “I’ll watch over you. Live well, darling.”

The pleasantly cool palm was retracted, and pain crashed back into Tommy just as quickly as it had left. 

It was only seconds later that the door burst open, Wilbur’s panting figure appearing in the doorframe.

Chapter Text

Crickets chirped in the background as Phil quietly ran his knife under water over his toilet, watching with simmering anger as the red gave way to silver, the stench of metallic blood hovering in the air. 

So maybe he’d gone a bit overboard with torturing Dream.

Although, he didn’t think he could’ve held back if he’d tried.

Not after Phil found out that Kristen was gone again , that Phil lost the love of his life so soon after finding her again. 

Phil took a deep, controlled breath. 

Dream was not his to kill, as much as he wished that were the case. 

No, Tommy and Ranboo needed the chance for revenge far more than he did. 

Gently, he ran an old piece of cloth over the knife, careful not to press too hard and tear the fabric. 

The quiet atmosphere would have normally been soothing, but Phil found that it only made his thoughts feel louder that particular day. 

He pattered around the marble-tiled bathroom with a lighter step than he had thought himself capable of, placing his knives back into their box and sliding it back into its hiding place, flushing the toilet and shoving the cloth into the laundry bag. 

Eventually, he finished cleaning and stepped back into his dark empty room. 

He took another deep breath as he took it in; the photo frames on the wall, the black pillow that was significantly fluffier than the green one lying on the bed, the half read books that had lay unopened for years…

The things that used to haunt him back when Kristen had first died all seemed to hurt again.

Phil’s eyes burned. 

-------

Phil was baking.

It was easy, routine, normal, something he could do without having to think, instead letting his thoughts dissolve, registering nothing but the dough in his hands and the lofi he let wash over him like a trance.

Or, it was, until the song started to play.

It wasn’t a song Phil recognized, sounding like just another lofi song as the opening notes sounded, but then there were lyrics . 

Phil sighed, wanting to skip the song, but looked down at his dirty hands and simply let it play. 

It got on his nerves. A lot. For no particular reason. (wishing on every one that you’ll be-)

And then there was the line . 

“I’ve heard of a love that comes, once in a lifetime,” the woman sang, soft and sweet and loving, “and I’m pretty sure that you are that love of mine.”

Phil had been slowly unraveling for a whole day at that point, cracking under the pressure, and it was just… the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Phil shattered.

Tears fell from his eyes faster than he could stop them, dough-sticky hands wiping fruitlessly at his face as a sob tore itself from his throat.

The feeling was familiar- a mixture of numbness and dread, a feeling like a sunken stone in his stomach, like dread, the realization that oh , Kristin was gone for good and she wasn’t coming back and they were over .

And wasn’t that cruel, the fact that he had to have the realization twice , had to feel that awful feeling and accept that there was nothing he could do.

His hands came up, clutching at his hair and pulling as he gasped, a shuddering breath in, eyes wide and vision blurred. 

“Phil? Phil! Are you okay?” Someone asked beside him.

She’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone, and I’ll never hear her voice or her laugh, and I’ll never get to tell her everything and she’ll never get to meet Wilbur and Techno and-

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” someone said, placing their hands on Phil’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay but- but you need to breathe and calm down. Can- Can you do that? Just, in, out, in, out. Simple and easy.”

She’s gone , repeated in Phil's head even as he followed the directions and breathed to the other’s words.

Gone. Forever .

Another shudder wracked Phil’s body, bringing a new wave of tears with it.

The voice started to become frantic, but continued to speak empty reassurances and encouraging instructions to him. 

It took a while for Phil to calm down, the breakdown leaving him drained and exhausted.

The person- who Phil realized was Techno- exhaled in relief as Phi wiped the remnants of his tears off his face, further smearing half-formed dough all over it. Slowly, Phil began gaining more and more awareness.

Wilbur was standing next to Techno, staring at him with wide eyes.

Techno’s hands were still resting on Phil’s shoulders, creating warm spots where they sat. 

“What happened?” Wilbur asked, voice hushed and hesitant.

“Nothing,” Phil replied, avoiding the younger’s eyes.

“ PhilI,” Techno said, unusually intense, “That clearly wasn’t nothin’! You were crying for almost half an hour, that isn’t nothin’ Phil!”

Phil glanced up at Techno, about to glare, but flinched and averted his eyes again at the sheer amount of concern etched into his face. 

“What do you think it was about,” Phi murmured, feeling defeated. “I just found out I’ve lost the love of my life permanently for the second time. Obviously- obviously I’m not just going to be okay after that,” he said, wiping furiously at his eyes as they began to blur again.

“Oh”, Wilbur whispered breathlessly, “I’m so sorry , Phil.”

“Saying sorry won’t bring her back,” Phil replied, voice small and exhausted.

“I know,” Wil said, nudging Techno to the side and wrapping Phil in a gentle hug, understanding etched into his voice.

Phil allowed himself be held, exhaustedly letting himself melt into it.

“I know, Phil.”

Chapter Text

If he was honest, Ranboo had thought he would feel a lot more nervous than he did that day as he waited at Phil’s porch for Wilbur.

He felt… happy. Excited, almost.

The guilt, the nervousness, the disgust with himself- they were there, because of course they were, but it was trivially easy to ignore them as he stood with his friends.

Techno was wearing a smirk filled with malice while Tubbo stood stiff and silent, one of his hands held in Tommy's.

Tommy was practically buzzing with excitement, a huge grin on his face as he rambled to a smiling Phil.

Today’s the day , Ranboo thought, a shiver of anticipation running through his body, Today’s the day Dream dies.

------

Ranboo had never liked gore, or blood, but there was just something about seeing Dream tied up, bloody and bruised, that felt cathartic .

Seeing the person who had been such a big, bad, threatening figure in his life for so long, completely helpless, mask broken on the floor- yeah. It was nice.

He didn’t bother hiding the smile it brought to his face.

Dream looked up, and Ranboo felt a flash of guilt as he observed the completely defeated look in the blond man’s eyes- well, his eye, considering one was swollen shut. 

It was a pretty pathetic sight.

“Hey, Dream,” Tommy said, shit-eating grin on full display, “Guess who’s still alive? That’s right, bitch, me . I’m still alive. Unlike you, in the very near future.”

“Huh,” Dream replied, voice hoarse, “So you’re finally going to kill me.”

“Not goin’ to beg for your life? How boring,” Techno drawled.

“Just get it over with.”

“Tommy,” Techno said, casual as could be, “Wanna do the honors?”

Tommy took the knife from Techno’s hand and observed it with a thoughtful gaze, before sighing and turning to Ranboo.

“No,” He said, a small smile on his face, “I think there’s someone who he’s hurt a lot more.”

Ranboo stared wide-eyed at the hilt of the knife extended towards him.

“What do you say, boob boy? Up for a little murder?”

With a shaky hand, Ranboo took the knife, distantly hearing a hoarse intake of breath. “...Yeah. I think I am.”

“Cool,” Tommy said with a grin, “but I want to yell at him first.”

Ranboo huffed fondly. 

“Go on then.”

As if he’d been waiting for permission, Tommy whirled around and stalked towards Dream, who was still watching everything go down with an undeniably shocked expression.

“Hey Dream ,” Tommy started, venom dripping from his voice as he spoke, echoing in the silence of the empty warehouse.

“Bet you didn’t expect this, huh? You thought you could control me- you thought you could do whatever you wanted and get away with it but you fucking couldn’t . You- you’re the scum of the Earth, you know that? You’re a fuckin’ - a fuckin’ prick- no, that’s tame- you’re worse than any insult I can come up with, and trust me, I have a lot of insults for you.”

Tommy moved forward a little, looming over Dream’s kneeling figure. He lifted his foot, hovering over the broken mask on the floor, and stomped down, crushing it under his heel, grinning viciously as Dream stared at the pieces of porcelain under his shoe. 

“Not so high and mighty anymore, are you? No, I’m the one in control now. You can’t do shit to me, Dream. You can’t hurt me anymore. You’re not going to hurt anyone ever again . This is karma, bitch. You did this to yourself .”

Ranboo watched with pride as Tommy turned around, smiling even as he shook, and gave a bow, gesturing for Ranboo to take the stage , so to speak.

Ranboo, despite the rapid thrum of his pulse in his ears and the sweat collecting on his palms, smiled back and stepped forward.

For a moment, he was silent as he looked down at Dream’s slumped form, the other not even meeting his eyes.

There was so much he had to say to Dream; so much about how angry he was, how much Dream had hurt him, how sometimes despite it all he missed the boy in his earliest memories, missed the Dream that wasn’t Dream but Clay .

It was hard, figuring out where to start.

After a long moment, Ranboo took a deep breath, switched his knife to his other hand and wiped off his palm, and crouched down to Dream’s level.

It was familiar, almost, except the positions were reversed. 

This time it was Ranboo looking down at Dream. This time Dream was the hurt one. 

“For a long time,” Ranboo started, feeling an odd sense of calm, “I loved you. And I missed you. I missed Clay, I missed my brother . And then I realized he died a long, long time before our parents did. I realized that the brother I missed stopped existing the first time you raised a hand at me. And now?” 

Ranboo laughed coldly, finding some twisted joy in the expression on Dream’s face. “Now I can’t wait to see you die. You’re the one who did this, you know? You’re the one who made me this. A murderer. I already know you’ve made me kill people before-” Ranboo’s voice wavered, cracked a little, but he continued

“So I figure adding your name to the list isn’t a big deal. I was bred, born and raised for this, Dream. I was created for this by you . I was bred, born and raised to kick your ass .”

The knife plunged, a sick squelch sounding as Dream took his final breaths, stuttered and anguished. 

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispered, and Ranboo felt nothing .  

Chapter Text

After Dream’s death, Tommy just kind of… blanked.

He’d spent the first week at Phil’s house anxious yet excited, waiting enthusiastically for the day Dream died , almost constantly thinking about it- about being free.

And then the day came, and it went, and suddenly it was like the fight drained out of him, because he didn’t feel any better . Thinking about Dream was still terrifying, the nightmares didn’t go away, and neither did the hurt.

When Tommy realized it, realized that even when Dream was dead he continued to hurt him, he’d had a breakdown, one he remembered vividly. He’d cried for what felt like hours, angry and hurt and so, so done with it all.

After that, the exhaustion had hit, bone deep and all-consuming, and everything became hard .

Speaking, eating, moving- everything except sleeping was hard.

Time felt like it was dragging on, agonizingly slow, a second an hour and an hour a decade. Days passed by as Tommy sat in his little white bed, air like molasses every time he tried to move, sticky and heavy against his skin. 

Everything was hazy; his bed, the blankets carefully tucked around him, the people that came and went and whispered to each other and asked Tommy, ever-so-gently, if he was okay- it was all so hazy. 

Even he was hazy.

Sometimes, he felt like he was dead, like the heartbeat in his chest wasn't really there, like Dream had succeeded after all. (When that happened, he’d press down on the bandages around his stab wound and let himself feel the flare of pain- just to remind himself he was alive.)

His memories of before were distant, and so was his body. Almost as if they weren’t really his . As if the person who’d laughed with Phil and Wilbur and Techno and stayed up all night talking to Tubbo and bandaged Ranboo’s wounds hadn’t been him at all.

As for after Dream’s death, the memories of those days? Weeks? Slipped away like sand through his fingers, leaving nothing but blurry snippets.

There were only two memories from that time he remembered well.

The first was when Wilbur had been playing with his hair as Tommy pretended to be asleep. 

“Come back to us, Tommy,” He’d whispered, soft and choked, letting his hand rest on Tommy’s head.

“Please, come back to me.”

Tommy had, for the first time in god knows how long, felt something other than numbness. He’d felt guilt, felt love, felt the overwhelming urge to open his eyes and say something. But then the hand had withdrawn, and the chair scuffed against the floor, and the door clicked shut, and Wilbur was gone.

The next morning, Tommy was numb again.

The second had been when he was blearily waking up, still half asleep, and heard voices talking.

Tubbo and Ranboo, he’d realized.

 “I just- I don’t know what to do , Ranboo!” Tubbo had said, quiet but still clearly stressed, “This has happened before, but this time it’s so much worse than usual. He barely even eats, all he does is sleep, and I can’t get him to say anything no matter how hard I try.” 

“What do I do, Ranboo?” Tubbo had asked then, broken and exhausted.

“I don’t know,” Ranboo answered gently, defeat obvious in his voice.

And again, Tommy felt the urge to respond; to tell them it’d be okay, he’d be okay, to say something and eat and take the misery out of their voices.

But he was just so tired , and sleep weighed heavy with exhaustion on his body, and he couldn’t find the energy to move his mouth and force the words out.

He couldn’t do anything other than close his eyes and ignore the soft sound of crying until sleep finally took him again.

When he woke up, Tommy was numb again.

It all crescendoed one day, when Phil opened the door to his room and found him awake for once, his position too close to sitting up to feign sleep.

“Hi mate,” Phil said, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes on his face, “How are you doing?”

Tommy let his eyes lock on to the other as Phil made his way to Tommy’s bedside and took a seat, but didn’t respond. He didn’t have the energy to.

“Still not saying anything, huh?”

Tommy blinked.

“That’s alright,” Phil said, even as the smile slipped away from his lips. 

“Listen,” He started, the easygoing tone replaced by a serious one, “I can’t watch you just be so lifeless all the time, I really can’t, and I know you probably don’t have the energy for much but please , just for this one thing, can you try?”

Tommy blinked again, and Phil took it as an invitation to continue.

“Techno says Ranboo has a therapist, and she’s amazing, and she could help. So, Tommy, Innit, please , will you talk to her if I get her to come?” Phil asked, eyes glassy and hopeful and fragile.

Tommy, suddenly, was struck with the urge to say something again.

That time, Phil didn’t leave, didn’t look away even as time ticked by. 

That time, he was not half asleep, even though fatigue weighed down just as heavily.

That time, he found his mouth opening.

“Yes,” he answered, pushing through the heaviness on his chest and the lump in his throat and letting it slip through his lips, quiet and hoarse.

The smile, bright and genuine, that Phil gave him in return was worth it.

Chapter Text

It took a long time for Tommy to feel like his body was his own again, to find the energy to live. 

Puffy helped far more than Tommy had expected, guiding him through the exhaustion and giving him pills and gently teaching him how to be someone again.

It was slow going, but Tommy wandered until he wasn’t lost anymore and found his way back to happiness. 

He wrote notes and learned a little bit of sign language for when everything was too heavy to speak, and held quiet conversations with whoever chose to sit with him when it wasn’t. He re-learned to walk, wobbly legs getting steadier as they were used again. He took showers everyday, washing off the dirt and grime and fatigue that settled into him. 

And ever so slowly, Tommy healed. 

It didn’t feel like it, not really, but Puffy told him it was less the big things and more the little ones that meant progress. 

So Tommy found himself looking for them, collecting them and holding them close to his heart, thinking progress, progress, progress . 

It was progress, not shying away from the feeling of sun on his skin, laughing for the first time after Dream’s death. 

It was progress, his clean plate and the answering smiles he’d give to his housemates,  the steadily increasing volume of his voice and the conversations he’d initiate. 

The little things added up over time, and without realizing it, Tommy healed . 

That much was evident in the bounce in his step that returned, in the barely visible circles under his eyes, in the roundness of his face and cheekiness in his grin. 

It wasn’t easy, nowhere close to it, and Tommy still felt too heavy to get out of bed some days, but the good days began to outnumber the bad, and Tommy was happy . 

The first time he’d woken up without a hint of fatigue dragging him down, Tommy had rushed into the kitchen, all wide eyes and bouncy feet, and shouted it at Phil, who’d wrapped him tight in a hug. 

“I’m proud of you,” he’d said back then, and Tommy had been happy . 

The first time he’d managed to drag himself out of his room on a bad day and curled up on the couch instead, Techno had come to sit beside him, shoulder pressed against his in silent reassurance as he turned on a random Netflix series. 

“I’m proud of you,” he’d whispered back then, patting Tommy’s head with a gentle smile. Tommy had burst into tears back then, but through all the exhaustion, he’d been happy . 

The first time he’d agreed to go on a walk outside, Wilbur had come with him, a cheerful presence beside him on the beautiful spring day. They’d bantered as they walked, staying outside until the sun set and fireflies flitted out of the bushes, mesmerizingly bright. 

“I’m proud of you,” Wilbur had said him back then, smiling softly as they waited for Phil to let them back inside, lights dancing behind him, his expression warm as summer air. There, on the dark spring evening, Tommy had been happy .

The first time Tommy had let Tubbo see him break down after Dream’s death, he’d shattered , spilling secret after secret as sobs tore themselves out of his throat and found themselves muffled in Tubbo’s shirt. 

“I’m proud of you,” Tubbo had told him back then, rubbing circles into his back as his sobs faded into hiccups. And even as he was hurt and tired, Tommy had been happy .

---------

Tommy’s injuries healed far before he really did, and even after he started feeling okay again, they didn’t leave Phil’s. Didn’t even talk about it, actually. 

Tubbo had very obviously settled into Phil’s home in the months that he’d been forced to stay there because of Tommy’s injuries. 

It was weird to say the least, when Tommy had first observed the odd dynamics he had with the others. Tubbo seemed to be completely at ease with Phil, relaxed in the way he often was with Ranboo and Tommy, but he’d also formed some kind of odd relationship with Techno and Wilbur. 

He didn’t really talk much to Techno, mostly just exchanged pleasantries every once in a while or teamed up with him to insult Wilbur, but he’d apparently become friends with Wilbur despite his initial dislike for him. 

The two bantered easily, without any bite behind the insults, and Tubbo actually complimented Wilbur a few times. 

The fact that he’d missed whatever happened to make them bond made Tommy uneasy, a weird feeling in his stomach not completely unlike jealousy making itself known, but it was easy to set aside when he fit so cleanly into their dynamic, like he was made to be a part of it. 

And so, Tubbo carved out a place for himself in their little patchwork family, and Tommy knew they wouldn’t be leaving unless Phil told them to. 

The sparkle in Phil’s eye when he saw Tubbo getting along with the others told Tommy that wouldn’t be happening at all.

Chapter Text

“Okay, okay, but consider this. You’re going to die in 30 minutes. This is it for you. You have one last thing you can do before you die. What do you do?” Tommy asked, a little bounce in his step as he walked down the street towards the beach. 

“Cum,” Wil answered immediately. “I will die a graceful death by cum.” 

“Jesus fucking christ, stop with the cum jokes already,” Phil groaned.

“Cum is my lord and savior and this fact deserves to be acknowledged , Phil. You can’t silence me, Phil.” Wilbur said solemnly, his tone a contrast to the shit eating grin on his face.

Techno snorted, his Hawaiian shirt fluttering in the warm breeze as he adjusted the sunglasses on his face. “Nothing you say will make Wil stop saying cursed things, Phil. You should just accept that like the rest of us already,” he said, making the oldest of the group sputter. 

“So what, I’m just supposed to sit here and listen to him talk about how dolphin pussy jelly can make you cum to death? Really, mate?” 

“Exactly,” Techno replied breezily, his voice overlapping with Wilbur’s as the brunette grinned and said, “Speaking of which-”

“I swear, if you talk about that tumblr post one more time, I am not buying us any ice cream,” Phil threatened with a glare, effectively shutting Wilbur up. 

“And you,” Phil continued, turning his glare to innocent little Tommy, “If the first thing you do when we reach the beach is make a sand penis, you best not expect to have any candy for a fucking week.”

“Whatttt?” Tommy drawled, giving the oldest his best I've-never-done-anything-wrong-in-my-life face, “I would never.”

Phil rolled his eyes, far too used to the younger’s bullshit to buy it. “Sure, and Wilbur isn’t obsessed with cum jokes.”

“Now, now, Phil, I wouldn’t call it obsessed -” 

“ Shut. ”

-----------

“Look!” Tommy cried gleefully, his entire body buried in sand, “I have boobs , Techno!”

“I see that,” The older replied dryly, not looking up from his book. “You’ve mentioned it 5 times now.”

“But Technoooo,” Tommy whined, staring upside down at his friend, “you’re not appreciating them enough!”

“You are appreciating them plenty for all of us,” he said, his voice clearly amused.

Wilbur patted one of the mountains of wet sand on Tommy’s chest, making a serious face. 

“There, there Tommy, I think your boobs are great,” He said, smiling when Tommy beamed up at him, eyes squinted because of the sun. 

“See, Wilbur gets it!” Tommy exclaimed, wiggling his toes inside his sand coffin, “I bet Phil will appreciate their beauty too.”

“I’m sure he will,” Techno huffed, sarcasm dripping from the statement.

“PHIL!” Wilbur called, unnecessarily loud, “What do you think of Tommy’s boobs?!”

Tommy cackled as Techno slowly raised his book to cover his face. 

“If anyone asks, I don’t know either of you,” He said, a tinge of exasperation in his low voice. 

It only took around a minute for Phil to reach them, cheeks red- from embarrassment or the heat, Tommy wasn’t sure. 

He handed Techno and Wilbur their cones of ice cream, glancing down at Tommy before half-shrugging and keeping his. 

“Tommy, care to explain why you have sand boobs?” Phil asked, taking a seat next to Techno on their picnic blanket. 

“They’re sand boobs , Phil, c’mon, who wouldn’t want sand boobs?

“Hm, let me think about that one. Maybe everyone else on this fucking beach who doesn’t have them?”

“No one else understands the beauty of them, Phil. The sand boobs are holy.”

“I understand their beauty, Tommy,” Wil said, lips smudged with strawberry ice cream. “You know, we could start a religio-”

“Oh, absolutely fucking not, don’t even start Wilbur. Remember who’s driving you home? Remember how you can’t drive?”

“You’re such a buzzkill, Phil,” Wilbur whined.

“Oh, now I’m the bad guy for not wanting you to start a religion based on literally every cursed thing you find?”

“I see that you’re self aware, Phil. Good on you.”

“Ugh, just shut up and eat your goddamn ice cream.”

“And why would I do that when I’ve got all this delicious, crunchy sand to eat, Phil?”

“Wilbur, no. That- If you eat a single fucking grain of sand I am never buying you honey oat cookies from Niki’s ever again.”

Wilbur gasped, horror bleeding into his voice. 

“You wouldn’t. ”

“I can and I will,” Phil threatened, settling down on their picnic blanket next to Techno. His eyebrows furrowed as he took in their appearances. 

“Where are your bucket hats? You’ll get sick from all the heat to your head if you don’t wear them! Dear god, did you even put on sunscreen?” 

Tommy made a face, tilting his head back to stick his tongue out at him. 

“You’re such a fucking dad , Phil,” Wil said, “We’re not going to die if we don’t put on some cream.”

Phil narrowed his eyes. “Don’t come complaining to me when you get sunburn then, you little shit.”

“Can’t get sunburn if you don’t go out in the sun,” Techno responded, face still hidden by his book, sheltered from the summer sun by a beach umbrella.

A mischievous smile overtook Wilbur’s face as he grabbed Techno’s ankle and pulled, dragging him out of the shade and into rough sand. 

Techno put down his book in a silent declaration of war, glaring venomously at Wilbur. 

“Oh, it’s on.” He said, shoving Wilbur into the sand, the latter beginning to shriek about it getting in his hair. 

Tommy closed his eyes, a small smile settling onto his face as he listened to the sounds of chaos, basking in the warmth of the summer day.

-----------

Tommy sputtered through his laugh, seawater splattering across his face as he aimed a splash at Wilbur in retaliation. Salt and water clung to his skin, turning it sticky and gritty. Waves crashed against his knees, sand slipping in between his toes as he and Wilbur attacked each other with water. 

His hair stuck wet and flat to his forehead, the taste of salt lingering on his tongue as he grinned widely. Wilbur was in a very similar state. 

Phil and Techno stood further away, water lapping gently at their calves as they spoke about something that was probably boring as shit. They were almost completely dry from the knee up, and honestly that was just a crime .

Tommy momentarily stopped his attacks to nudge Wilbur, tilting his head at their friends. The grin on Wilbur’s face grew as he realized what Tommy was asking of him. 

The two of them ran towards Phil and Techno, water splashing loudly in their wake. 

“Think fast!” Tommy yelled as he aimed a splash of water right at Techno’s face, Wilbur doing the same to Phil. 

Techno slowly raised a hand to wipe at his face, blinking down at Tommy before a dangerous smile spread across his face. 

“Prepare to die ,” He said, and suddenly saltwater was being relentlessly thrown on Tommy.

He shrieked, wiping his face with wet hands, and ran away, laughing loud and bright as Techno chased him.  

Chapter Text

1 year later

Warmth curled in his chest with something bittersweet as Tubbo laughed, pushing Tommy’s body off of his own. He sank back into the fluffy cushioning of the couch, breathing in the scent of honey and bread that lingered in the air. 

A hand wrapped around his ankle and tugged hard, causing Tubbo to fall off the couch harshly, landing next to Tommy on the floor. He kicked out, meeting soft flesh and earning an oof from his best friend. 

“What was that for, you prick?” Tubbo asked, moving to sit up. 

“For leaving me,” Tommy huffed, sticking his tongue out. 

Tubbo rolled his eyes, well aware that Tommy didn’t really mean it. They’d had this conversation a hundred times already. 

Still, he knew how much Tommy hated the idea of being abandoned, so he sighed and leaned in a little closer, gently flicking the other on the forehead. 

“Quit acting like I’m leaving forever, dumbass. You know full well I’m going to visit like, every day.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same !”

“Tommy,” Tubbo said, understanding but stern.

“Tubbo, ” Tommy mocked, making an ugly face. 

“... If you really needed me to stay, I would.” 

“I know,” Tommy said, sighing in defeat, each ounce of over-dramaticness leaving his body. “I don’t need you to stay. But… I don’t know, you’re leaving today! We’re not going to live together anymore! I want you to be happy, I really do, and I know you’re really excited to live with Fundy. I just… I feel like I’m not ready to not have you right here all the time. I feel like I’ll never be ready for that.”

The bitter part of the bittersweetness stung, and Tubbo leaned over to rest his head on Tommy’s shoulder in an effort to comfort him, an indulgence of the other’s love language.

“I’ll still be here, you know that. I’m never really going to be more than a phone call away. I promised you I’d never let you go again when we saw each other after Dream, remember? I’m not going to break it. Pinky promises are sacred, you know.”

The familiar weight of Tommy’s head came to rest on top of Tubbo’s, achingly gentle. 

“I know,” Tubbo’s best friend replied, barely louder than a whisper. And then, after a moment of silence, Tommy spoke, uncharacteristically sombre and honest.

“I’ll miss you, bee boy.”

“I’ll miss you too, Toms.”
---

2 years later. 

The grin on Wilbur’s face was so wide it almost hurt, music filling the air as his fingers danced along the fretboard of his guitar. He laughed as the song he was playing came to an end, shaking out his tired hands. 

“That was awesome! I think that was the one, change the file’s name so we remember,” He exclaimed, the thrill of playing still thrumming in his veins.

Ash went to obey, a pleased smile resting on his lips, when the door slammed open and Wilbur’s blond menace came barreling in. 

“Are you guys done yet?” Tommy whined, pouting exaggeratedly. “You’ve been in here for fucking hours .”

“No, we’re not,” Wilbur lied, just to see the annoyance on Tommy’s face grow, “We’re actually going to need like, 3 more hours. At least.”

“Oh come on , Ash and Joe said they’d take me out for burgers today, you can’t just hoard them! They’re my friends!”

“Sorry Tom, duty calls. Besides, they’re my friends too. Right guys?” Wilbur asked expectantly. Ash and Joe nodded like the perfect, incredible people they were.

“They were mine first!” 

“Yeah, well they’re mine better, gremlin.”

“You can’t just steal all my friends, dickhead!” Tommy argued petulantly.

“I can and I did,” Wilbur replied gleefully.

“Fine then,” Tommy huffed, his fists balled into little fists that made Wilbur’s grin widen, “I’ll just go with my real friend, Ranboo! You can all go die, you fuckers.”

Tommy stomped out, dramatically slamming the door of the cozy studio. 

Silence reigned in the dimly lit room for a few seconds before Joe finally spoke, eyeing the shit-eating grin on Wilbur’s face with the resigned, tired amusement of someone who’d seen this happen way too many times. 

“We’re going to the burger place, aren’t we?”

“You know me so well,” Wilbur replied happily, already planning the best way to annoy Tommy next.

-----

4 years later

Really, Techno wasn’t stupid. He knew Wilbur was just goading him into doing what he wanted, knew it like he knew the voices in his own head, but he honestly couldn’t help but fall for it anyway. 

Which, of course, is how he found himself half-running into the kitchen, not even bothering to take off his shoes at the door, and slamming a copy of L’manberg Times on the dining table, right in front of Wilbur’s food. 

“I did it.” He deadpanned, even as a smug grin spread across his face. “Bestseller in two weeks . Have fun doing my chores for a month.”

Wilbur stared. Then he blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“Congrats, Techno!” Phil said excitedly, beaming at Techno. “I knew people would love it.”

Wilbur seemed to finally overcome his shock, a smile slowly spreading across his face, wide and unnervingly happy for someone who had just been sentenced to do Techno’s laundry. 

“I can’t believe I lost,” he said, not sounding very upset. There was a hidden, knowing lilt to his voice and really , what an asshole. Wilbur could at least bother to be convincing if he was going to pretend this wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted. 

It had all started on a fairly average almost 6 months ago. He’d been sitting with Wilbur in the living room while Tommy was off at university and Phil was god-knows-where. Offhandedly, he’d mentioned wanting to write a book before he’d ended up an assassin. 

Wilbur, being the worst person on Earth, had refused to leave him alone about it, insisting that he should write since he had the time. Eventually, he’d succeeded in his wretched plans by implying that Techno couldn’t write a book and hence throwing Techno into an obsessive writing phase. 

He finished the book in four months, a novel of 80,000 words about a farmer turned criminal turned farmer again and his adventures. (There were maybe just a few characters based off of his friends. And those characters were maybe a little bit like family for his character- but that meant nothing, of course.)

Then, when he refused to actually publish the thing, Wilbur had proposed a bet- if the book didn’t get bestseller in 6 months, Techno would have to do Wilbur’s chores for a month. If it did, Wilbur would do Techno’s. 

He’d proceeded to taunt Techno about being scared until he finally agreed to the bet.

Which was how Techno had ended up writing and publishing a book like he’d always wanted to do. (Like he’d always been too scared to do.)

And now- now he could quit. He’d only ever become an assassin for the money. It's not like he'd ever felt all that guilty over it, and the adrenaline rush was pretty nice, but he had never really liked killing. He just… hadn’t had any other skills. 

But he did now- he could write. He could quit. 

He didn’t have to kill anymore.

----

6 years later

There were plants on the windowsill, all green and somehow still alive. Tommy’s apartment was fairly clean, with a small bookshelf in a corner and an insect-free kitchen. It was his , and no one else's, and it was clean and livable in and he’d paid for it all himself . 

Tommy was… proud. He was proud of himself. Last year, when he’d first moved into the small apartment, terrified out of his mind, he hadn’t expected it to go well at all. If he was being honest, he’d expected that he’d move back to Phil’s in under a month. 

But no, he really had managed to live on his own, had managed to take care of himself and he hadn’t even fucked up all that often!

Puffy had been the one to suggest it, and it had worked miracles on his self esteem. He hadn’t even realized how scared he was of being on his own until she told him to try it.

But… he’d proved to himself that he could survive on his own, that he didn’t need anyone else and, well, as nice as his apartment was, it wasn’t home. It could never be home- not as long as his family was elsewhere. 

So Tommy grabbed his coat and, humming a happy little tune under his breath, planned out how he was going to tell everyone else he was moving back.

---

The moment he finished his announcement, Phil was sweeping him into a crushing hug, warm against Tommy’s torso. Tommy choked, letting out a surprised laugh, happiness bubbling in his chest. 

Phil had told him multiple times that he was always welcome at his house but, well, it was always nice to see that he was wanted. 

Even Techno was smiling when Tommy peeked over Phil’s shoulder to look at him and Wilbur. Reflexively, Tommy beamed back. 

----

8 years later  

The morning was quiet, serene. Rain pattered gently onto the ground, turning the windows misty. Phil held his "caw caw motherfucker" in his cold hands, letting the warmth of his coffee seep into him. 

Ranboo sat across from him, feeding a half-asleep Michael a bagel. 

It was incredibly, ridiculously peaceful. 

Unfortunately (Oh, who was he kidding, very fortunately ), peace never lasted for long in Phil's house. 

"Wilbur Soot, get the FUCK back over here, " Techno yelled, the telltale thuds of footsteps on carpet following the scream.

"NEVER! " Wilbur screeched back, curly brown hair flashing into view as he ran through the living room, followed closely by Techno and- was that a knife in Techno's hand? Never mind, Phil didn't want to know. 

"The moment I get my hands on you, you are DEAD!"

"I did nothing wrong!"

"Nothing wrong?! You bleached my favorite sweater !"

"That thing was a hazard to my optical health! The neon pink was burning my eyes Techno, it was for the greater good!"

"Shut the FUCK up, " Tommy screamed from his room, and ah, there it was. The sound of chaos that made his house home. 

Phil laughed quietly, basking in the familiarity of the yelling as Techno continued to chase Wilbur around the living room. 

"Uncle Tech is up!" Michael squealed, immediately brightening at the sight of his favorite uncle . (Yes, Phil was still salty about that. He did not carry that fucking child on his back up a goddamn mountain only to be deigned great-grandpa.) 

"Yes he is," Ranboo cooed. "Now finish your bagel, honey."

A weight landed on Phil's shoulder, warm against the silk of his shirt. He almost startled, only to immediately relax as he heard Tommy's groggy voice next to his ear. 

"Why do they have to yell so early in the morning?" Tommy whined, pressing harder into Phil's shoulder. 

"You're one to talk, mate. Besides, it's 10 am."

"Exactly. Way too fucking early."

"Shh, don't curse, Michael's right here ," Ranboo scolded. 

"Dad, I know what fuck is," Michael said innocently.

Phil held back laughter at the horrified look on Ranboo's face. 

"He lives with Tubbo," Tommy said. "What did you expect, boob boy?"

"10 years and you still won't stop with that nickname-"

"DAD!" Wilbur screeched, voice alight with laughter, shoving Tommy aside so he could hide behind Phil. 

"Techno's trying to kill me! Stop him!"

"Phil, listen, he deserves it for ruining Carl-"

"You named it?!"

"Really, Wilbur?" Phil asked dramatically, hiding the pleased tingle that ran through his body when Wilbur called him dad . No matter how many times it happened, it never stopped making Phil happy. "I can't believe you'd sink so low."

"You're taking his side?" Wilbur hissed, "I always knew Techno was the favorite!"

Before Phil could even respond, Wilbur was running again, Techno hot on his tail. 

The door to Tommy's room creaked open, a bleary-eyed Tubbo peeking out. 

"Is it 12 yet?" He called groggily. 

"No," Tommy called back, "You still have 2 hours."

"Kay," the brunette replied, immediately closing the door and retreating back into the room. 

Phil laughed again, this time even louder. If someone had told him a decade ago that peace for him would be a room filled with so much noise he could barely hear his own thoughts over it all, he would've written them off as crazy. 

And yet, here he was. 

It was a little strange, sure, but he was happy. 

He was home.