Chapter Text
Tommy would know him anywhere. Even seven years later, Tommy instantly knows those messy dark curls, that particular way he chews on his lower lip when he’s making a decision. Plus, Tommy’s pretty sure that no one else in the world has that particular pattern of scarring on their face, visible even under the hoodie he’s wearing now.
Tubbo.
When the realization sinks in, Tommy drops the box of crackers in his hands. In the moments before it hits the ground, he wants to cry and laugh all at the same time.
Because ladies and gentlemen, guys and gals and otherwise, it has been seven years since the Incident, and Tubbo Underscore is standing in the local supermarket considering a box of Triscuits not three feet from Tommy.
Then Tommy’s box of crackers hits the ground, and Tubbo jumps and turns toward him.
For a moment, Tommy almost expects him to be wearing the yellow trefoil contact lens. He knows Tubbo didn’t wear it all the time, they literally lived together, but in the years since they’ve seen each other his mind has held onto the image of Nuke better than the image of Tubbo, and Nuke always wore a radiation trefoil cosmetic contact in his left eye. But Tubbo has two matching chocolate-brown eyes, and they’re locking onto Tommy.
All Tommy can think of to do is wave shyly.
Tubbo stands stock-still for a moment, then turns sharply back to the shelves. Tommy’s emotions tip a little more toward feeling like crying than laughing.
“Tubbo?” he says, and wills his voice not to shake.
“I can’t tell if I want you to be real or not real.” Tubbo sounds just as close to tears as Tommy does.
“I’m real,” Tommy whispers. He really doesn’t wanna think about why Tubbo might suspect he isn’t. “I’m real, I promise you.”
Tubbo gives him a helpless, frightened look, and oh god they’re both older but that expression looks so much like he did the night of the Incident that Tommy’s paralyzed for a second. “That’s what you’d say if you weren’t, too.”
Tommy picks up the box of crackers. “C’mon, you know me. Would I lie to you? If I wasn’t real, you’d be the first to know.” Tommy only realizes what he’s said after it’s out of his mouth. He just… used to feel so natural with Tubbo, and they never really said goodbye, and his brain just briefly forgot that for seven years he’d thought Tubbo was dead.
Tubbo looks stricken. He pulls the hood of his jacket further in front of his face. “I knew you,” he corrects.
Tommy shuffles in place, not sure what to say. “I— yeah. I thought you were dead, Tubs.”
“I thought you were dead too.”
A thought hits Tommy. “Is— if you’re… what about Ranboo?”
Tubbo winces, and his hand tightens around the shopping basket he’s holding. “He’s really gone.” His voice is completely flat. “We watched him get stabbed, Tommy.”
Tommy shrugs. “Can’t blame a guy for hoping,” he jokes halfheartedly. “Do you… wanna go somewhere? So we can talk more comfortably than in the cracker section of the grocery store?”
Tubbo glances at his basket. “I’m doing my week’s shopping, man, sorry. Maybe some other time?”
Tommy looks at the basket too. He hopes Tubbo’s just started shopping, because there’s not much in there, and most of it is microwave meals and a package of hotdogs. “No problem,” he says. “Here, how about I give you my number, and then you text me and I’ll text back, and that’ll prove I’m real and we’ll make a plan?”
After a moment, Tubbo nods. He sets down his basket, fishes his phone out of his pocket, and hands it to Tommy with the “new contact” screen up. Tommy puts in his number, then hits the button to take a contact photo.
“Get in here, big man, let’s take a picture,” Tommy says. Tubbo seems startled but doesn’t fight as Tommy pulls him into the frame and takes a selfie of them both. It’s a little blurry, they’re both partially out of the shot, and Tubbo’s face is mostly in shadow, but it’s fine. After so long apart, Tommy would be happy with just about any photo of Tubbo. “You send that to me when you text me, okay? I want it for your contact photo, too.”
Tubbo nods stiffly. “I— I should get going. Don’t want my hotdogs to thaw.” He takes a few steps away, then turns back with a nervous smile. “I’ll see you?”
“I’ll see you,” Tommy promises.
------------------------------------
“Phil! Techno! You will not believe who I saw today— wait, where’s Wilbur?”
Phil and Techno both look up at Tommy as he comes in. They’re in the kitchen cooking dinner, but Wilbur’s nowhere to be seen, which is odd. It’s been a little more than six months since the teen’s been living with them, and he’s still anxious and likes to be able to see someone else whenever he can.
Phil smiles. “He’s reading in the living room. He didn’t follow Techno when Tech came to help with dinner.”
Tommy smiles back. “That’s awesome,” he replies, keeping his voice low so Wilbur won’t hear. Wilbur tends to get confused when they’re excited by new shows of independence, but it’s great to see him act a bit more like a regular teenager. Returning to his normal volume, Tommy continues, “Anyway! Guess who I ran into at the store.”
Techno raises his eyebrows. “Who?”
“Tubbo.”
There’s a beat of silence while the older two look confused. “Is that… the old friend you told us about? From your hero days?” Phil asks eventually. Tommy nods eagerly.
“Oh, right, him. Totally hadn’t forgotten his name,” Techno deadpans. “Didn’t you say he was dead?”
“I thought he was dead,” Tommy says. “But he’s not! He was at the grocery store buying crackers and I gave him my number. Tubbo, Techno. Tubbo.”
“Who’s Tubbo?” Tommy jumps at Wilbur’s voice behind him. He turns to see that Wilbur’s come up behind him and looks vaguely guilty. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No worries, big dubs. Tubbo’s… an old friend, kind of. Ah, crap, I should probably explain the whole thing, shouldn’t I? There’s… a lot.”
“Only if you’re comfortable,” Phil says gently. “You’ve never owed us an explanation before, and Tubbo coming back in your life doesn’t change that.”
“I kinda wanna hear the story, actually,” Techno cuts in.
“Techno! He doesn’t owe us a story.” Phil tries to glare, but he’s smiling.
“No, no, I’ll tell it,” Tommy replies. “Aren’t you always talking about, like, processing your past, Phil?” With a deep breath, he tries to sort out his thoughts and start at the beginning.
He’s pretty sure it’s rambly, and way less amusing than how he usually tells stories, but he gets through it. He talks about how he wasn’t always on the wrong side of the law, when he was a teen he worked as part of a hero team— himself and his best friends and their mentor. Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, Sam. Twister, Nuke, Ender, Warden. He talks about how it was great, and even if in retrospect they weren’t helping society as much as they could’ve if they’d abandoned the laws, they helped people and they were so, so, close to each other. He talks about the night that Tubbo came to him an Ranboo panicked and rambling about some kind of bomb, and they’d followed him to a workshop and found Sam building something capable of leveling a small city like theirs. He talks about helping Tubbo blow the workshop to kingdom come, and a long knife through Ranboo’s chest, and never looking back. The Incident. He talks about how he was sure he was the only survivor.
“And this Tubbo guy is back now?” Techno asks.
Tommy nods vigorously. “And he thought I was dead too, that’s why he never looked for me. And we’re gonna meet up, he’s gonna text me. I— I think I want to be his friend again.”
Techno makes a thoughtful humming sound. “And what if he’s different? You said it’s been seven years, and he thought you were dead. What if he’s not the same person you knew?”
Tommy shrugs. “I’ll get to know him, I guess. He’s… he’s Tubbo, no matter what. I have to at least try.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy can see Wilbur, who’s sitting on the edge of the counter, start to raise his hand, pause, and lower it back into his lap again.
“What is it, Wil?” Tommy asks, trying to give a reassuring smile.
Wilbur smiles anxiously back. “I think you’re right. It sounds like you really liked him, and I just… well, if I had this chance with someone I lost like that, I’d take it.” He sounds intense, almost insistent, and Tommy wonders for a moment if there’s actually someone in his past that he misses like Tommy missed Tubbo. “I dunno,” he finishes, hesitant again. “Sorry, Techno.”
“You’re allowed to disagree with me,” Techno says. “I won’t get mad.” He casts a sideways smile at Wilbur.
Tommy bites back a quip about being cooler than Techno anyway. As tempting as it is to jokingly insult Techno, he remembers that Wilbur hates feeling like he’s choosing sides within the family.
“Has Tubbo actually texted you yet?” Phil interjects.
“No,” Tommy admits. “But he will! I’ll invite him to that park we like, with the statue of the government guy.”
“I found that park,” Techno points out. “I want at least partial credit if you two end up reconnectin’.”
“I can offer five percent credit.”
“Bruh! The least I deserve is twenty percent,” Techno shoots back.
“Mmm, highest I can offer is eight percent, sorry.” Tommy smirks. He appreciates having someone looking out for him, but he’s not a kid anymore, and he doesn’t totally like when Techno gets protective like that.
“I can’t accept eight percent,” Techno says, lip curling in mock offense.
Phil taps a spatula against the counter. “You’ll accept eight percent or you’ll burn dinner, mate.”