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Wilbur is more present in the apartment in death than he ever was in life.
He's there in the game console sitting in the living room, there in the half drunk bottles on the counter, there in the smashed guitar in his room.
He's even on Tubbo's laptop in the form of an unfinished Assistive AI meant to be a present for Tommy.
Tommy.
He still walks around in a daze, unsure and lost. When asked if he's ok, he's gruff in typical Tommy fashion. "I don't need that fucker. I'm my own man."
But Tubbo can feel his shoulders shake with silent sobs when they're both curled up on the air mattress and he thinks Tubbo is asleep.
Tubbo hates Wilbur for it.
He hates him for voluntarily taking a job he knew was basically a suicide mission, for leaving them at the mercy of the Dream Team, for abandoning Tommy alone and broken.
If Wilbur weren't already dead, Tubbo would gladly kill him himself.
He never wants to let anyone hurt Tommy this bad again.
He'll kill them if they try.
But first, he needs to get Tommy to eat something.
"You hungry Big T?" Tommy sits on the air mattress, aggressively tapping at a game on his phone. "There's pizza left."
Tommy looks up, briefly before going back to his mobile battle. "'M not hungry, you can have it. I left it for you, anyway."
Tubbo pulls the pizza out and forms the tin foil wrappings into a plate, before taking his place next to Tommy. "Aw, are you fattening me up to eat me later?" He waves the pizza by Tommy's face. "Yummy yummy pizza!"
Tommy dodges, trying not to let the food distract him from his game. "I'm hoping you'll grow a little, dipshit. I'm tired of being seen with a pipsqueak when we go out–hey!" Tubbo knocks Tommy's phone out of his hand in retaliation, and has the satisfaction of hearing the little You Lose tune sound before Tommy rights it again.
"Bitch," Tommy grumbles, starting a new game.
Knock knock knock.
They both jump.
What the Hell?
Knock knock knock.
Who on earth would come to their apartment?
Tommy silences his phone, game forgotten, while Tubbo creeps to the door to peer through the peephole.
Shit.
He can feel Tommy waiting for information, but he's too shocked to move.
"Hey Tubbo!" They both know that voice, and he doesn't need to look back at Tommy to know he's gone rigid. "Are you going to leave me out in the hall all night?"
Damnit. Of course he knows they're home. That cursed mask of his can probably see through the peephole, or sense their body temperatures or something.
He glances back at Tommy, mouthing What do we do?
"We both know I can get through this door if I wanted to, so just let me in. I promise I'm not here to hurt you, I just wanna talk."
He's right.
Reluctantly, Tubbo opens the door, letting Dream into the apartment.
This is actually the first time he's seen the asshole up close, and he's suddenly aware how tall Dream is. Suddenly Tubbo does feel like a pipsqueak, and not in a good way.
Dream, or rather his mask, takes a look around the apartment, letting the boys stew in their tension for a moment. Even though Tubbo is afraid, the mechanic in him can't help but wonder what exactly the mask can do. He's fairly sure it's a Neuro Stimulator, giving Dream all sorts of enhanced cognitive and reflex abilities, but was it also a gadget? Was it scanning their apartment right now, analyzing potential weapons and counting the exits?
Tommy gets to his feet, stance wide and posture aggressive. "What do you want, Dream?"
The mask zeroes in on him. "I came to see how you're doing."
Bullshit.
"We're doing fine, thanks, just brilliant. You can go now."
Dream laughs. "Sure you are. Look," his voice takes on a sincere tone that's almost believable. "I know Wilbur was like a brother to you, I know he took care of you."
Tommy's fists curl in fury, but he doesn't interrupt.
"I know with him gone, it leaves you in a… complicated situation."
Understatement of the century.
"I want to help."
Tommy barks out a humorless laugh. "What, you want to be my big brother now? Be all nurturing and shit? Get me another dog for Sapnap to murder?"
Dream doesn't take the bait, just shrugs. "I'm not the nurturing type, but Wilbur was a friend, even if we had our differences." Tommy scoffs. "The least I can do is make sure his little brothers have more than three-day-old pizza to eat. So," he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two shiny bank cards. "Here's an account just for you two."
That's not what they expected, and they're both too baffled to do anything as he hands them each a card. "It's unmonitored and allows unlimited withdrawals. You guys can pay your rent, eat out, hell, buy a fancy car. Whatever you need." Perhaps he can see the disbelief, because he adds, "you can test it, if you want, Tubbo."
Tubbo does.
He carefully edges around Dream until he can reach his laptop, quickly scanning the card and pulling up the account. "Holy shit!"
Sure enough, it's a bank account, unconnected to Dream's holdings. The balance is enough to provide for a whole year's living expenses.
"See, told you," Dream puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "If there's anything you need, anything at all, you can come to me, ok?"
Tommy nods, though of course Tubbo knows neither of them believe it.
It's apparently enough for Dream, because he retreats to the hallway. "Take care of yourselves." He starts to close the door, then stops, as if remembering something. "Oh, and Tubbo?" Tubbo looks at him, at the grinning mask that just gave him more money than he's ever had in his whole life.
"I'll need you in the community house tomorrow, I have a special project I need your help with."
And then he's gone.
When Tubbo gets to the Community House the next day, he's relieved Dream isn't waiting for him on the tech floor. He feels kind of silly, actually. As far as he knows, Dream has never stepped foot in this room.
"Hey Callahan, how's it going big man?"
Callahan waves a greeting, silent as always. Tubbo isn't sure if his reindeer mods botched his vocal cords, or if he's just a quiet guy, but he's never heard him say a word.
"That you, Tubbo?" Quackity rounds one of the consul towers.
"Hey big Q." Tubbo knew Quackity long before coming to work for Dream. Quackity used to sell Schlatt scrubbed tech for Tubbo to refurbish. They'd always shared a few laughs when he came around. "What's on the agenda today?" Despite getting along, Tubbo is grateful he's never had to work against Quackity. Behind the immature jokes and playful humor is a born strategist, a ruthless businessman willing to do anything to achieve his goals.
Quackity boots up a monitor. "Have you ever encountered one of these before?"
Tubbo examines the blueprints and whistles. "Whoever designed this really doesn't want to be hacked." Tubbo's definitely going to take some notes from this design.
Quackity leans closer. "Can you track them down?"
Tubbo makes a face. "Uh, no? Not unless you have more than just the blueprints for me to go on. There could be thousands of networks with this type of security. You've got to narrow it down."
Quackity frowns. It's clearly not the answer he wants. "What if you had the exact time and coords of its previous location?"
Tubbo thinks, chewing on his lip slightly. "Probably. I can scan the surrounding tech and look for dark spots."
Quackity claps him on the shoulder. "Give it a try, T. I'm counting on you."
Tubbo does give it a try.
He gives it a try for three weeks before he finally managed to close in on the signal. Once he does, it's fairly simple to find the current location.
Idiots, they should have used a closed radio circuit. Tubbo would have. In fact, he will, just as soon as he gets a chance to finish the compass he's making for Tommy.
Quackity doesn't waste time congratulating Tubbo, just holds his phone up to his ear immediately. "We've got him, Dream. They're both in a town apartment on the south edge of the city. I'm sending you the coords now."
Tubbo hopes whoever it is, they deserve what Dream's about to send their way.