Chapter Text
Tommy’s life was incredibly ordinary. He lived in an ordinary town, with ordinary people. His life was ordinary.
Well. Except for one thing.
“Tommyyyyyy,” A voice whined out beside him as Tommy’s slowly woke up.
“What, Wil? It's like… it's like late,” Tommy said, slowly opening his eyes to the pouting person in front of him.
“You were supposed to come over tonight,” the man says.
“Was I?” Tommy mumbles, already falling back asleep. He hears a sigh and feels the bed dip at the end as Wilbur sits down on it. He can feel Wilbur's eyes on him.
“Yes, you were,” he says but he’s lowered his voice considerably soft now.
“Sorry big dubs, I got home from my shift and just conked out,” Tommy said, his breathing evening out.
“Mhmm,” Wilbur hummed sceptically. “Just like how last time you got called into a shift or the time before that when you simply had to work overtime.” Tommy doesn’t say anything, silent as he hopes Wilbur drops it. “You’re the one who asked to be turned,” he says, voice low and dejected. Tommy’s awake now. Giving up on falling back asleep, Tommy sits up. “I understand if you changed your mind Toms but… We need to know these things-”
“Does it hurt?” Wilbur pauses, his eyes calculating and clouding in frustration until they soften and the frustration gives way to concern and love. “The turning, I mean. Does it hurt?”
“A little, at first, when I bite you. It's like a prick, and though it doesn't fade, it also doesn't get worse. As you lose more and more blood you’ll feel faint, then you'll feel weak, then it’ll be nothing as your heart stops beating, no longer producing human blood. It'll switch to venom-filled blood and then you'll begin to wake up. When you come around again, after the venom has taken root and done its job, you’ll be tired. A bone-deep sort of tiredness as all your cells are rebuilt and replaced. Your mouth with hurt like a bitch as the fangs grow in, kind of like a somewhat constant toothache, thought apparent gummy toys can help, or at least they helped the others,” Wilbur says, moving closer till his sitting with his back against the wall and Tommy in his arms.
“So it’ll be you then? Who… who does it?” Tommy asks, voice muffled from Wilbur’s jumper, where Tommy has buried his face into.
“Yeah, it’ll be me,” Wilbur says. “Techno turned Ranboo so we figured it would make the most sense. Especially considering you asked me, not Phil or Techno.”
“Is that how you became a vampire? You asked Phil?” Wilbur shook his head.
“No, uhm, I actually had a rushed turning. Instead of Phil draining my blood first and then replacing it with venom, he had to force the venom into my bloodstream. Same with Techno,” Wilbur explains. “Techno was dying of a wound and asked Phil to save him, and I was sick. I had asked Phil before I’d gotten sick but he said he wanted me to think it over first.”
“What about Ranboo?”
“Ranboo asked Techno a few decades back. He had a slow turning like you will. He too asked to turn, though he didn't try and avoid us once he did,” Wilbur joked, poking Tommy's side lightly
“And Tubbo?” Tommy asks, deciding to not dignify Wilbur's taunt with a response
“We found him as a freshly turned fledgling, so we’re not sure. We think it might’ve been a rushed turn though,” Wilbur explained, sharp nails carding carefully through Tommy’s blonde curls.
“How long will I be out?”
“A few weeks at best, a few months at worse. Your body needs time to change, and it burns a lot of energy. The transformation could be up to six weeks and then its all about how quickly it takes your body to recover,” Wilbur says.
“So I have to quit my job?”
“You don’t have to, but I recommend you do, and not just for the turning.”
“I like my job,” tommy argues, before yawning. “Sam is good, and I like the others who work there.”
“Not going to argue with you there, but you seem to have a habit of over working yourself when you want to avoid something,” Wilbur says, smiling a little.
“Low blow,” Tommy says, looking up at Wilbur with half lidded eyes.
“Oh, I think it’s justified,” Wilbur said, scratching Tommy’s scalp as the boy dissolved into mutters and groans, returning to his spot buried in Wilbur’s sweater. “You don’t have to give up anything you don’t want to. If you want to move back here for a while, you can. I wouldn’t recommend travelling far but you can when you’re a few decades older and more settled.”
“What will I be? To everyone I mean,” Tommy asked.
“Well, I’ll be your sire, and you will be my fledgeling but I can still be big brother Wilby-”
“I literally only called you ‘Wilby’ once, oh my god let it go-”
“Phil is coven leader but he is very chill when it comes to how your view him. As for Techno, he’ll be your coven mate. Technically, Ranboo and Tubbo ar eyour nest mates, since it seems you were all turned in this century, you’ll just be a little behind-”
“Always the fuckin’ youngest-”
“So you’ll hit milestones a a few years after them.”
“Will I age at all?”
“Not by human standards. You won’t look older but you’ll have certain traits that’ll identify you. Fledings usually have smallers fangs, hence why they feed from their sires for the first few decades, because they teeth aren’t strong enough for hunting yet. Also you nails will take a little while longer to grow sharper. They’ll grow faster once you’re body has completed switch and recouped.” Tommy nods in his chest. “Same with your eyes. When you first turn they’ll be read, but they’ll slowly fade back into your natural eye colour.”
“So I won’t lose the blue?”
“No. It’ll be a bit light though, the shade, more noticeable and vibrant. Its sort of a subtle hint at the non-human element of you.” Tommy is quiet again. “You know, you don’t have to-”
“I want to, I do but… you’ve all been weirdly hush hush about it. Its like… its a big thing but it feels like everyone’s so scared to say the wrong thing, they don’t say anything at all, which isn’t the win you think it is,” Tommy says. “I thought also that maybe… maybe you didn’t want to turn me. That you only said yes out of pity or… or that you would hope i’d change my mind.”
“Oh sunshine, Toms, no! Never! I was over the mood when you asked, of course I was! You’re… you’re my Toms! My sunshine, never doubt that!”
“I know its just… you guys… you’re my family, and I don’t exactly have a good track record with those,” Tommy muttered.
“Well, I’m all for changing the narrative Toms,” Wilbur said, holding him close.
“You were a poet before you were turned, I can feel it,” Tommy joked and Wilbur laughed.
“A bard.”
“Same thing.” There’s silence between them now, the tension drained from both of their shoulders.
“Dadza cooked for you today,” Wilbur said. “He made risotto.”
“With mushrooms?” Wilbur smiles.
“Of course not, we’re not idiots.”
“You are.”
“Shut up,” Wilbur says but he’s smiling. Tommy lets out a puff of laughter.
“I suppose I’m too late for the risotto now?” Tommy asks and the underlying context is not lost on Wilbur.
“Not Toms, it isn't,” He says, smiling. “We have all the time in the world.”