Chapter Text
The way Tommy had become a villain was unexpected.
He might’ve imagined himself with a traumatic past, blood boiling for revenge on the people and society that had wronged him. Or perhaps he would’ve made a deal, something he could never get out of, binding him to terrorizing the innocent for money.
In reality, Tommy had always looked up to his family too much to become a villain on his own. He would remember looking up to the famous winged-hero Philza, practically worshipping him whenever he came home from hero work. He remembered when he would go up to his father, requesting to fly.
Phil would look at him with that once warm, once genuine look with encouragement. “Alright, mate.” He would laugh, “Just this once.”
And then he would pick Tommy up and soar around with his arms. Tommy would squeal in delight.
He had brief memories with his brother, Wilbur, before he had become Soot. They would play video games together, cold nights covered by screams and cries of anguish or victory with a controller grasped in their hands. Their decline of time together was slow, before it finally stopped completely when he became a full-time hero. Week by week, they hung out together less and less. A few ‘Sorry, busy. Maybe tomorrow, Toms,’ the first few times. Then after a while it morphed to a hard ‘I’m busy, go away.’
Technoblade was barely home. He was the first to leave, and therefore the least Tommy was attached too, but the most he had admired like a real hero. He would wait each night for him to come home, gaining nothing but a tired ‘hello’ and a quick glance. Tommy thrived in Technoblade’s attention before he realized at the ripe age of 10 that the feeling was one-sided.
But things had moved on. Tommy never ended up getting any powers. Tommy could never be a hero. Well, technically he could, but that would be more work than he was willing to do. It never stopped his admiration for heroes and the stories and popularity they possessed. He once pictured himself up there, saving citizens with his own hands, soaring through the city with giant wings like his father.
TommyInnit! They would chant, We love you!
And he would grin back, side to side with his brothers and father. A perfect family full of perfect heroes.
Okay, so maybe his jealousy for things that were ‘never meant to be’ had fueled his path of a villain.
But in truth, Tommy was just a clingy bitch.
He remembered the first day he had met Dream, the infamous and cold villain that reigned terror by forcing others to do the hard work for him. Working in the background, Dream was influential.
Instead of his pictured villain persona, all Tommy was met with was a surprisingly normal person.
He was wearing a lime green hoodie, sipping coffee at Niki’s bakery. A regular at the at the place, Niki told him when they talked. Always seemed to be there when he had the free time. Tommy couldn’t recall how many times he had seen the man there before they had actually talked.
Clay was what he would call his citizen persona.
“You come here a lot, don’t you?” Clay asked him one day, sitting at a table close to his, leaning backwards to talk to Tommy.
“None of your fucking business,” he responded, a bit rudely. He was having a shitty day, it wasn’t his fault.
“You look pissed, want me to get you some coffee?” Clay had asked him, seeming more interested.
“I am pissed.” Tommy rolled his eyes, turning the other way. “I don’t need your pity-coffee, asshole. For all I care, you’re trying to kidnap me.”
“By buying you coffee?”
“Exactly.”
Clay laughed at him. “Whatever you say, child.”
“I’m not a child.” He defended.
He hadn’t seen Clay again until a few days after that. He didn’t really think he was going to see him again.
“Looking pissed again,” Clay had noticed, sitting at a table close to Tommy. The teenager merely glanced at him, confused and irritated. “Want me to buy you a muffin?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re the person from before. What the fuck makes you think I don’t have money?” Tommy had said, exasperated. “Do I look some fucking charity event to you?”
Clay scoffed, “No offense, you look like an orphan.”
“At least I don’t look like a homeless man.” Tommy retorted.
“What? What part of me makes me look homeless?” Clay huffed. Tommy smirked. That certainly hit the right spot. Tommy turned just slightly, not that he was actually interested, and finally took in the man’s appearance up close.
He was an average looking person with blonde hair and green eyes. A few freckles covered his face along with an awkward smile. He looked kind of messy, but clean enough that you could tell he took good care of himself. Clay looked absolutely normal.
Tommy took his opportunity.
“Are you still gonna buy me that muffin, or…?”
“I thought you had money?” Clay raised an eyebrow.
“I’m an orphan, actually.” He smirked, “I’m afraid I’m too poor to buy anything.”
“Sure, whatever you say, kid.”
“Fuck you, I’m not a goddamn kid.”
Clay smiled, “Mood really switched up there, huh?”
He got a free muffin that day.
Eventually, he had seen him more and more often. Soft teasing into full-on insults were thrown each time they were around each other. Clay would always be there when Tommy was having it rough. A friendly stranger in a crowd that the teenager could spill out his issues to without facing any judgement.
And he didn’t even ask about his powers. Tommy was grateful.
It was weird at first. A coincidence the first three-four times, but at this point it was just obvious. Clay was always there, somehow. Even if it was 5am in the morning or 12am at night. Tommy could never understand how he did it but eventually he had just accepted it. Maybe one day he could ask how much free time he had. After a while Tommy actually began to think he might’ve lived in the bakery.
It was a cold winter day when he was presented with the opportunity to become a villain.
“Shouldn’t you be in school? Y’know, getting an education.” Clay asked, bringing a cup of coffee to his mouth.
Tommy snorted. “Nah.” He shrugged. “Homeschooled.”
Dream nodded, looking at him with some sort of curious glint in his eyes. “Ah.” He hummed, “What about your parents? I think your mother would be concerned if she knew her kid was going out without any adult supervision.”
Tommy snorted. “That implies that you are not an adult.” He laughed, “Homeless child Clay.”
“Hey, I am a legal adult.”
“So you agree that you’re homeless?”
“What? I,” Dream stuttered, “No, I have a home!”
“Whatever helps you feel better at night, big man,”
“I do have a home!” Clay huffed, almost offended.
They sat silently for a few seconds before the green-hooded man spoke up again. “You didn’t answer my question. About your parents?”
“Ah.” Tommy looked up. “My father is out at work, most of the time. So are my brothers. My mother’s dead.”
Clay’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh. Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Tommy hummed, teasingly, “Did you kill her?”
Clay didn’t respond, instead frowning just the slightest. Tommy stopped smiling, too, and leaned back in his chair, muffin in hand. A small sort of anxiousness crept up in the back of his mind. He had said something wrong.
“What do you think about heroes?” Clay had asked.
It was a simple change of topic, something Tommy was grateful for. His tense shoulders relaxed, slumping forward. “Heroes? They’re pretty fucking cool, I guess.”
“Really now? Who’s your favorite hero?”
Tommy hummed, thinking to himself. His first thought rolled to Philza. With giant wings and a kind smile, the man had saved hundreds of lives with his graceful hands and determination. No wonder he was one of the top 10. But then Tommy frowned. Memories of hushed groans and paperwork made its way into his mind.
Philza had been kind and graceful to everyone. Everyone but him . He thought back to the long nights where he would wait in front of the door, waiting for his father and brother to come back home. Wilbur would pry him away, annoyance bubbling at Tommy’s old stubbornness.
“I have to take care of you, so why can’t you just make everything easier and listen to me?” Wilbur yelled at him, once.
Phil had been kind. So had Wilbur. But then they became Philza and Soot, proud heroes and past family. But Technoblade? He was never really family in the first place.
“The Blade.” Tommy nodded, “The Blade never dies.”
Clay rolled his eyes, “Of course you’d choose him.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean, hm??”
“Nothing, nothing!” Clay laughed, “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“Didn’t expect it, my ass.” Tommy huffed, “What about you?”
“Oh, me? I’m not really into heroes.”
“Then why’d you ask me the question if you weren’t even going to answer it yourself?!” Tommy asked, exasperated.
“Oh you know, just wanted to make some small talk.” Clay shrugged, “Anyways, Tommy, do you have a job?”
Tommy blinked, confused. “What?”
“A job, do you have one?”
“Fuck no. Why do you think I make you buy my food every time?”
Clay nodded, the familiar curious glint in his eyes making an appearance. “Do you want to work for me?”
Tommy sat silent for a moment before he let out a bark of laughter. “What, you own some kind of business? No offense to your beautiful ugly face, but I’m not interested in being a slave.”
“Hey!” Clay gasped, mockingly offended. “I have a wonderful face.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”
The man had rolled his eyes before he continued on. “How good are you at keeping secrets?”
Tommy thought to himself. He managed to sneak here at least 3 times a week without his family finding. He remembered seeing his brother talking on the phone, sweet and soothing voice, as he laughed softly with a woman named Sally. He remembered peeking through the door of his brother’s bedroom, finding him curled up in a ball with his hands up to his ears talking angrily to himself. Back then he had been afraid to witness such a vulnerable moment of the one person he admired most. He never told anyone of those times.
“Good enough.”
Clay nodded, a smile on his face but the amusement fading. “I could pay you a lot. You seem fit for this.”
“How much are we talking, big man?”
“As much as you want. It’s… a difficult thing to do, but I could walk you through some practice runs.” Clay explained. “It requires you to get really up close and personal, but all in all, it could be a good experience for you.”
“As much as I want? Kind of a risky thing to say, Clay.” Tommy smirked. “What’s the job?”
“A distraction.” Clay looked at him, green eyes burning into his. It was at this moment that Tommy froze, confused. “I need you to be a distraction. You know where the city bank is, right?”
“…Yeah?”
“We’re going to rob it.”
A few seconds passed.
Tommy let out a laugh, “Oh man, I almost thought you were serious.” He grinned lightheartedly, “If you’re going to offer money, then try not to fucking lie about it. I was getting really hyped up, man.”
Clay didn’t react, looking at him expectantly. “I wasn’t lying.”
“Hah, sure.”
“Tommy.” Clay said, voice lowering. Tommy paused, looking back at him. His smile dropped as soon as he was met with the seriousness in his friend’s face.
“You know, I really can’t tell if you’re serious or not.” Tommy chuckled awkwardly.
“I’m completely serious.” Clay had said, “This isn’t a joke.”
Tommy frowned before swerving his head around, looking to see if anyone was listening in on their conversation, or was close enough to. Nobody. Nobody was in the cafe other than some college student with headphones plugged to a computer at the other side of the bakery. Tommy turned back to Clay. Everything else said was now in a hushed voice.
“That’s kind of illegal.” Tommy told him, as if it would change anything. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll go to jail.” Tommy urged, leaning forward with hesitation.
“What if they don’t catch me?” Clay challenged.
“They will. ” Tommy muttered, “They will. And when they do, we’ll all go to jail and shit.”
“I never said you were going to get involved with any of the robbing.” Clay hummed, taking a small sip of his coffee. “A distraction, that’s all.”
“Big C, do you even have the equipment? You’re just going to barge in there? With nothing? ” Tommy pushed, “Also, a distraction? That’s not going to do anything, Clay.”
“I never said I didn’t have nothing. You know, I don’t think either of us has told each other what our powers are.” Clay hummed, “I think that would be a big factor in whether our little experiment will be successful or not.”
“You’re literally insane. What kind of distraction is going to help you rob a whole ass bank? Y’know, the one with guards and cameras?”
“Simple, Tommy. Hostages. You’re going to be a hostage.” Clay told him, “They won’t hurt us if they know we have some kid involved. We won’t actually hurt you, of course, we just need you as a distraction for them.”
“We? ” Tommy huffed, “There are other people trying to be idiots?”
“Look, if you don’t take it, that’s fine.” Clay shrugged, standing up. His hand slipped into his pocket and he slapped a small sticky note onto the table in front of Tommy. “There are other kids who are more willing. You’re a good secret keeper, aren’t you?”
Tommy looked down at the sticky note, scratchy handwriting on the paper. “Clay-“
“See you next time, Tommy. Hope you enjoyed that muffin,” He nodded, a smile on his face as if nothing had happened.
And then he left.
And Tommy was alone.
Tommy would be lying if he said didn’t spend several hours staring back and forth between his math work and the sticky note with a phone number etched on. He didn’t think - couldn’t think - that this was a thing that could happen.
A part of him contemplated showing his family, when they got home. If they got home tonight. Occasionally they would skip days and Tommy was okay with that. But in this situation? Absolutely not. He needed his father immediately.
He would be prepared when his father would ask, “How was your day, Tommy?”
And Tommy would respond was a simple, “A homeless man offered me money to help rob a bank.”
And that would be the end of that.
But maybe he was bluffing. Just a simple joke that Clay got way too into. Dramatic fuck. What harm could that fucking homeless shithead do? Rob a bank? It would be fine. Tommy exhaled, turning back to his papers with a pencil in hand. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed.
He tried not to think about what Clay had said, back in the cafe.
“There are other kids who are more willing.”
He paused. What the hell did that green bastard mean? What other kids were willing to rob a fucking bank? Tommy dropped his pencil and itched towards his phone. He was reminded of the first day he had met the man. A friendly nobody, willing to pay for some random teenager’s food. Clay was trustworthy. Tommy trusted Clay.
Nights of soft chattering and coffee and bickering resurfaced. Clay was a good man. He knew what he was doing.
Fuck it. He needed to tell that Clay how much of an idiot he was. Tommy picked up his phone and dialed in the number, picking at his fingers nervously as the phone rang.
Moments felt like centuries before a familiar voice came through the phone. Tommy held his breath.
“Hello?”
“Clay?” Tommy hesitated.
Clay sounded ecstatic. “Tommy! I almost thought you weren’t going to call.”
“Yeah, well, I did. Asshole.” Tommy shot back. “Y’know I really can’t tell if you’re being serious about this or if this was some plot to get me to give you my number. You really could’ve just asked, bitch.”
”Don’t worry, I definitely wasn’t joking about the whole bank thing.”
”Oh.” Tommy felt disappointed. “Then how do you know I haven’t already told anyone about it? What if I’m actually terrible at keeping secrets?”
Clay laughed softly, “ I trust you. You told me yourself, you know how to keep secrets.” He said, “Oh, and, Tommy? If you’re going to take the job. Then I suggest you start referring to me as Dream.”
“Pardon?”
“Call me Dream once we’re officially working together. You might’ve heard my name around the news. I think you deserve to know that.”
Tommy froze. Dream. Dream, wasn’t that name just familiar? Dream, the villain. Dream, the supervillain. Dream, the man his family has groaned and bickered about for the last month. Dream, the man able to manipulate anything to his needs.
Dream, who also happened to be his bakery friend, Clay.
“Alright.” Tommy agreed, “I’ll do it.”