Chapter Text
Tommy may know a lot of things, perhaps even be a genius but good lord he has no idea how to tie a tie and it shows. He fumbles with the cursed piece of cloth in the mirror, trying to match the folds up with what his shitty cracked iPhone screen is trying to tell him. Up, over, left, wibble wobble fuckin’-
“Tommy, mate? You're gonna be late for your first day!”
He curses the tie, flinging it into a pile of dirty clothes creeping its way towards the ceiling. No tie, fine! Be can be business casual without some fucking tie. Kicking open the bathroom door, he crosses into his room and begins tearing through the clothes piled on his desk chair. Finally, he lets out a victorious whoop, pulling out a dark red cardigan, pulling it over his wrinkled dress shirt. He’s leaning on the casual side of business casual, but the thrift stores within walking distance aren't exactly a high-end shopping spot. As he turns, satisfied, a solid mass hits him in the chest with a thump.
“Breakfast for the road!” Tubbo shouts, practically vibrating. “Now come on, the bus comes in five!”
Tommy nods, shoving warm tinfoil into his sweater pocket and grabbing a backpack off a stack of items making a home under his desk. “This is the best day of my life, Tubbo, the best day of our lives, I'll tell you what.” he rambles, scooping pens and notebooks and office supplies into his bag. “This is the first step to our big break man! Soon I'll be the boss man, watching over the city from a fancy-ass desk.”
“You won't even get a cubicle if you're late,” Tubbo says, practically shoving Tommy out the door. “Now, what do you remember today?”
“No swearing, be helpful, don't try to find any secret lairs.” Tommy rattles off, counting each point on his fingers.
“And?”
“And,” Tommy grins a little too mischievously, “if I see any heroes get two autographs. One for the wall, and one for eBay.”
Tubbo matches his smile and gives him one final push out the door
_____
The hero agency is fucking massive . Tommys lived in the city his whole life, he’s seen his fair share of skyscrapers, but the sheer scale of the base where so many heroes defend the city is damn near frightening. It's at least a hundred floors, all glass and metal polished to a painful shine. When he was younger, the other kids used to joke about cars getting melted from the reflections. Standing here, blinking in the sun, Tommy can sympathize with those cars just a little bit.
Taking a deep breath, Tommy squares his shoulders, mirroring the statutes of humanity's greatest protector that welcome people through those blinding glass doors. Tommys fucking awesome, he's gonna ace this intern shit so hard. Pretty soon he’ll be clinking glasses with Dream and the big guys. How hard can it be?
_____
Turns out, it's really goddamn hard. The secretary at the front desk waves him off to a side room with a smile far too wide for someone he doesn't know, where Tommy is handed a badge and made to sign three miles of paperwork with two dozen other nervous-looking teens. After what seems like hours, he plops onto a plastic chair as close to the front of the room as he can. A woman with long brown hair and eyes that seem to glow in the dim fluorescents stands at the front, not even needing to raise her voice to grab the attention of every person there.
“Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?” she says, a joking smile on her face. She gets a few chuckles, but otherwise, the room is silent. “Trust me, those forms are important. I hope you all read them carefully, but just in case we forgot a few details. I'll summarize for you.”
Tommy definitely read all that paperwork, yup.
“First off, a dress code I don't see anyone breaking, so good job! Here at the heroes alliance agency for peace and unity, we encourage business and business casual. Along with that, your badges are to be worn at all times, clearly stating your name and department.”
Fucking yawn. Tommy tries his hardest to listen to the drone of office policy, non-disclosure, and etiquette. Finally, the woman stops talking and brightens up even more, somehow.
“Now what you've all been looking forward to, a word from the top hero himself, Dream!”
Immediately Tommy is straight in his seat, and a wave of excited chatters goes through the room. The excitement dies, though, as a projector flickers to life, showing a grainy still of Mr. Top hero. A few mouse clicks later, and the smiling mask begins to move, addressing the room.
“Hello everyone! As I'm sure you know, my name is Dream, and I'm so excited to welcome you all today to your first day interning at the heroes alliance agency for peace and unity. You were all handpicked from applications sent in across the country, from a pool of great minds and eager workers. Look around at your fellow interns, and give them a smile! You've worked hard to get here.”
Okay, it's cheesy, but still. The top hero is singing his graces, and though it may be pre-recorded, Tommy's chest swells with pride.
Dream continues on the screen, the video panning out to show the rest of his office, something the public definitely doesn't get to see. There are awards hung on the walls, medals and trophies kept behind glass cases, and children's scribbled drawings tacked proudly next to his desk. If he squints, Tommy can make out a framed photo of the other top heroes, Hellfire and Amanita. “Every person that works in this building is important to me, whether you're filing papers or fighting next to me on the streets. I'm looking forward to seeing all of you soon.” The mask covering dreams face is blank, but Tommy can't help but feel proud eyes staring from behind the porcelain.
The projector dies with a mechanical buzz, and the woman claps excitedly.
“Well, that's all we have here. Your badges have your assigned floor numbers, you'll meet your department head and receive your assignments from there. Good luck everyone!”
Okay, this is where it actually gets hard. When Tommy heard “assignments”, he'd thought he'd get to see top-secret files, arrange hero work, or at least have a desk. Instead, he's jogging half a block down the street to retrieve coffee for the lackeys of humanity's greatest. Five cappuccinos and three blended sugar overloads later, Tommy is balancing his way down the street muttering words he can't use at work. This is fine though, just a ladder on the rung of success as Tubbo would say. He has to push the elevator buttons with his foot, but hopefully soon the coffees will be unloaded and he’ll be off to greener lawns.
His smile is very, very false as he pops into offices, handing off coffees one by one, until finally he gets to one that's locked when he tries the handle. He knocks, shifting back and forth between his feet. “It's ah, coffee?” he calls, and footsteps follow, with the door swinging open wide. A young-looking man with blond hair and a hoodie that definitely isn't even business casual stands before him, looking irked. Tommy hands off the cup sheepishly.
“I didn't order coffee.” the man states plainly.
“Guess you got lucky?” Tommy gives his best smile, which probably comes off as a little weird, because the guy just takes the coffee and motions for Tommy to sit tight.
“You're an intern, right? Go take these papers up to floor 96 for me, office 42. Tell Vanessa it's from Punz.” a stack of manila folders is deposited in Tommy's arms, all of them stamped with things like “confidential”.
This is totally fine.
“Mr. Punz, uh, sir, I don't think I've got security access for that floor." He says from around the stack of papers. Punz grunts and rifles through a drawer for a second before slapping an id card on top of the stack of files.
“Use this for the elevator, and just knock on the office door.” Punz says, closing the door. “Oh, and if you read any of those files I'll know, and keeping your job will be the last thing you need to worry about.”
Click
Well, that was fucking ominous.
_____
One thing he can admit is that these heroes really know how to plan a view. Like everything else in the building the elevator is all glass panes and shining steel, and as Tommy rockets up dozens of floors the entire city is spread out before him, ripe for the picking. Is this what dream sees, after a day of fighting off villains? Is this what those villains see, and try their best to tear down?
With a ding, Tommy is torn from his thoughts, the elevator opening its doors out to a darkened hallway. One more peek at the view, and Tommy is off, searching for his final destination before he can retreat down to the mundane safety of copying machines and coffee runs.
The lighting is soft, the walls all painted a pale yellow that is two shades away from vomit. The ac is on, or there are noise machines embedded in the ceiling, because a white noise permeates the entire floor as Tommy creeps through the maze of hallways. How many offices do a bunch of superheroes need? After endless hallways, he finally reaches the door labeled 42, propped ever-so-slightly ajar.
Tommy lifts a hand to knock, but stops a hair away from the door when a familiar voice drifts through. He really, really shouldn't snoop, but would a tiny peek hurt? What's one little breach of privacy in the long run?
As sneaky as possible, Tommy sets down the stack of papers and presses one eye to the crack in the door, and holy shit-
Dream, the real actual top hero dream, leans against a desk languidly, the brown-haired woman from this morning standing opposite. This is way too cool to be happening, Tommy's favorite hero just a few feet away from him, casually discussing whatever heroes discuss.
…what is he discussing?
Okay, maybe Tommy will linger for just a bit longer, just to hear whatever amazing heroic stuff dream discusses in his off-hours. Tubbo is never gonna believe this.
Dream’s posture is completely relaxed and he practically sits on the desk covered in file folders and electronics. The light from those massive glass windows backlights him, and he looks like a portrait, or the posters they sell at gift shops.
“-so you're telling me it's good news, that's what I'm hearing.” dream’s voice seems to emanate from the smiling mask, unmuffled by the porcelain. The woman, Vanessa, seems to shift nervously in place as the hero plays with a small piece of paper.
“Well, sir, it's just that damage control has run the numbers, and PR and social media really don't think it's the best idea for your public image, so-” she's cut off by a flick of the hand, Dream rising to his feet.
“That doesn't sound like good news, Vanessa.” he sing-songs. “All I ask of you was to get the plan approved by the higher-ups. Not to haggle, not to ‘run the numbers’ or whatever it is you desk jockeys do, just simply approve the plan.”
Vanessa seems to harden a little, her spine straightening. Good on her, Tommy thinks. Unless, of course, she's trying to ruin one of Dream's master plans to keep the city safe. If that's the case, then bad.
“Sir,” she says firmly, “let me put it plainly. The estimated loss of life would just be too great to risk. We can't allow it to happen, even if it brings down seraphim. It will not be happening.”
Loss of life? She must mean other heroes, right? Some grand plan to take down the head of the syndicate once and for all?
Dream chuckles in a way that borders on darkness, and Tommy has to suppress a shiver. “Can you put a price on justice, Vanessa? On peace? The very things we heroes have given our lives for? What do your numbers compare to finally seeing safety in this city? Five, ten, twenty, a hundred even, is that such a terrible sacrifice to make?” as he speaks he advances on her, until he seems just a few feet away from where Tommy hides, frozen.
“Hundreds, sir, h-hundreds of civilians could be killed! Even more will be made jobless or unhoused by such a mass casualty event!”
Hundreds of civilians. The numbers echo in his mind, the words his hero just spoke feeling viscerally wrong. That would be his entire apartment building, him and Tubbo and more, just gone. This just, this can't be right.
Tommy finally notices dream’s conversation has come to a halt, no more voices filtering through the door, and with a shock that reaches his bones, he realizes the masked hero is staring at the door. Staring right at him.
It's pure instinct that sends Tommy scrambling away from the door as a streak of light punches a hole through the solid wood where tommys chest had been moments before. There's a gasp, loose papers shifting, and with a thunk thunk thunk three more daggers of solid light smash into the wall as Tommy continues to push himself back. Distantly, Tommy thinks about how cool it would be to see dreams powers up close, if they weren't aimed for his head.
Letting out a string of curses, Tommy pulls himself up and on his feet, darting down the hallway. He's running from a hero, the fucking savior of the city, and he's fucking terrified. He practically slams into the elevator button, pressing it frantically as a glowing figure rounds the corner.
Tommys seen Dream's fights on tv, everyone has. A hero cloaked in green, smiling mask always on his face, wreathed in light that he bends to his will. There's no limit to what he can construct as long as there's some form of luminescence. Tommy curses the stupid glass elevator as the door pops open with a cheerful ding.
He throws himself into the elevator, but he's not quick enough to dodge the daggers of light whipped in his direction. One catches him in the shoulder, the force throwing him into the wall of the elevator, cracking the glass. Fuck.
Dream stalks towards him like a lion, gripping the elevator doorways with both hands, towering over Tommy.
“Well, well, well,” he croons, leaning down to meet Tommy's eyes as he gasps in pain. The dagger dissolves into light, reforming in dreams hands and leaving a bleeding wound in its place. “Seems like someone decided to get into things they shouldn't have, hm?”
A ball of light lifts the badge from his chest, pulling it taught against his neck. Dream lets out a laugh as he reads it, letting it fall as he leaned back. “What kind of name is Innit? What, did you choose it yourself?”
“Matter of fact I did.” Tommy grimaces, a hand pressed against his wounded shoulder.
“Interesting. Wish I could get to know you kid, but you know how business is.” dreams hands shimmer, a long, thin blade materializing in his hands. Tommy's breath catches, frozen in anticipation of the attack. But dreams hands still, his unseen eyes focusing so hard on Tommy that his gaze is almost tangible. Following his stare, Tommy stretches to see his shoulder, now illuminated with a soft glow.
Double fuck.
“Well, well, well. This just got more interesting.” dream breathes out, watching with fascination as the skin of Tommy's shoulder seems to knit back together, a soft reddish-orange light emanating from the wound.
Of fucking course, Tommy manages to hide his powers from everyone but his best friend for 17 years, until he happens to be stabbed by the greatest fucking hero in the city and the cats out of the bag.
Tommy moves without thinking, using the elevator's handrails to swing himself up, feet slamming directly into dream chest sending the unprepared man sprawling. The elevator's happy ding as the doors close is an absolute fucking blessing as Tommy's last glimpse of the hero disappears behind doors, and the elevator begins to rocket downwards.
So much for having a good first day of work.