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Tommy had just gotten his 30 minute break, his ribs stinging at him to let the tight binder he was wearing off. Yeah, like hell he would do that. He had a cigarrette gripped between his index and middle fingers, the smoke escaping from his mouth as he leaned against the generator ontop of the roof, his bag forgotten on the floor as he stared at the city beneath.
No rails, nothing to restrain him. It was freeing. If he wanted to, he could jump, not that he would. The city needed him, they needed a vigilante who actually gave a fuck about them. Not that the others weren't great too, but it was obvious they were just mainly looking for fame or friends.
The smoke poisoned his lungs, the smell intoxicating to his nose as he parted his lips from the cigarette.
"You planning on doing a flip?" A voice startled him, and his cigarette nearly dropped to the floor at the sudden noise. Luckily, he gripped it between fingers before it could fall, although he did still jump.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Tommy screeched, "And no, I'm not going to jump. Thanks for the care." He scoffed, leaning against the generator.
"Can I get a cigarette?" The man asked, his presence shifting to beside his shoulder. The contact was burning his skin. It had been so long since he had a conversation lasting over 5 minutes, let alone brushing shoulders with someone.
"Yeah, sure, help yourself." Tommy huffed, "Only 6 left in the pack," He murmured to himself, giving the man one. As he turned to look at him, his eyes widened at the identity of the voice.
Siren.
Whatever, it didn't matter. He was off-duty right now, no need to get worked up over a supervillain taking his smoke break.
"Thanks." Siren grinned as he took the cigarette, placing it in between his lips. "I appreciate it, kid."
"I'm seventeen." Tommy huffed in mock-offense, not that he really cared. He'd be dead soon anyway.
"Smoking at seventeen, eh? Breaking the law isn't good, kid."
"Name's Tommy, don't wear it out." Tommy rolled his eyes, "Also, I'm pretty sure you're the supervillain in this situation. I'm just a humble vigilan- citizen." Welp, that was a fuckup. Whatever, it didn't matter anyway. He was going to die soon.
"Oh, you're a vigilante? Wack." Siren paused, "You're Theseus, right?"
"The one you threw off a building, yes, that's me." Tommy reminded, "Sorry you have to deal with the whole identity thing by the way. I don't really care beause I'll be dead soon anyway, go ahead and murder me or whatever. Rip me apart, I don't give a fuck."
"I'm not going to do that right now." The villain ruffled his hair, "I'm just on my smoke break." Why did Tommy want to lean into his hand so bad?
"Oh, cool. Mind if I trauma-dump on you?"
"Eh, sure. Why not? Not like I have anything better to do anyway."
"Pog." Tommy grinned, unknowingly leaning closer to the villain.
"Tell me about your friends?" Siren questioned, placing a gentle arm around his shoulders.
"Bitch, trying to get me to reconsider death, huh?" Tommy scrunched his nose up, holding his middle finger up. "Jokes on you, prick, I don't have any."
"Eh, well, we can be friends."
Tommy snorted, bursting into loud laughter.
"Ah yes, I would love to be friends with the person who's views are completely opposite from mine and the person who threw me off a roof thrice. What a tempting offer, I'll have to get back to you on that one."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm an awful person." Tommy could practically hear the eye-roll in Siren's eyes. It made him frown though.
"I mean, aren't we all?" Tommy countered, "You're honestly not that bad. I've met worse."
"I'm a literal mass-murderer."
"I know."
"I've thrown you off roofs."
"I know."
"I've ordered people to kill eachother, even if I do regret it."
"I know."
"Dude, what the fuck went on in your childhood? How have you met worse?"
"Oh-hohoho, Siren, let me introduce you to my dead mother- Oh fuck, I guess I need to thank you for killing her, huh? Honestly, the night she died- best day of my fuckin’ life. I cackled so loud, the neighbours ended up sending me a noise complaint.”
”I- what? Why did you- I don’t remember killing a woman, unless your mum was a police officer?”
”Nah, it was more of a drug-dealing kinda deal. That’s not important, anyway. Remember when you collapsed that one office building a couple years back with Corvus and Nemesis? The privately owned one, it was like blue or something. Fell straight on my mum, she punctured her lungs and died a slow death. Fucker deserved it too.”
”Oh shit, yeah, that did happen. Well, um, I’m glad I made you happy.”
”Ding dong, the wicked bitch is gone!” Tommy cheered, clapping his hand on his thigh. He parted the cigarette from his lips, the bud dead as he rubbed it against the top of his knee-cap, all tension depleting from his shoulders at the feeling.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Siren asked, his mouth quickly curving downwards as he grabbed Tommy’s wrist, pulling it away from his leg. “Don’t do that.”
”Oh my god.” Tommy laughed, loud and breathless. “Oh my god.”
”What?” Siren asked, sounding genuinely confused and concerned.
”The great Siren is worried about me! Me- a mere mortal, a teenager! The Siren! Oh my god. The person who’s thrown me off multiple roofs is worried about the fact that I’m poking a bit of fire on my thighs. That’s fucking hilarious, man, who would’ve guessed?”
”It’s not-“ Siren sighed, “It’s not like that, Tommy. It’s different. Don’t hurt yourself.”
”Why not?” Tommy challenged, whining like an bratty child who wasn’t allowed to buy a bag of candy.
”Because it’s not good.”
”Yeah, neither is smoking or being a vigilante but you don’t see me quittin’.” Tommy huffed, batting Siren’s hand away immaturely.
”It’s different.”
”That’s what she said.” Tommy mumbled under his breath.
"You are a fucking child. Small- tiny, gremlin."
"Gremlin children don't tend to completely throw off heroes and villains alike by patrolling Logstedshire to the point that the government stops assigning heroes to the area altogether because a mere 17-year old has it under control and the villains have to dodge said child because he keeps throwing them off when their trying to commit crimes." Tommy reminded, scoffing as he lit another.
"You have such a big ego, dude."
"Says the guy who brags about his achievements to every hero he fights."
"I- that's a tactical strategy!"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, man."
"I am not about to-"
Tommy let out a sudden cry of pain, the cigarette he was smoking dropping to the floor as he grabbed his ribs with pure pain. He winced sharply, inhaling desperately. "Ow. Fuck. Shit." He breathed.
"Woah, what's wrong?" Wilbur asked, frantic. Tommy sucked air in through his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suck up the pain.
"It's fine. Just need to unbind." Tommy mumbled, gripping at the fabric where his ribs were pathetically.
"Unbind?"
"Are you fucking- I'm trans. Bruised ribs do not go well with binders worn for days on end."
"Wha- Tommy! You're not supposed to wear binders for that long. You're not supposed to wear them at all when you have a rib injury!" Wilbur scolded.
"I know, shithead." His ribs sent another sharp wave of pain. "Fuck, that hurts." He breathed.
"You are a literal- come here." Siren sighed, pulling Tommy into a hug. He frowned, scrunching his nose up. What did he want from him? "No one knows this but I have an enchantment that lets me heal people. Can I do that for you?"
"No objections to getting my ribs healed." Tommy agreed, letting the man's hand slip onto his chest, his heart thumping against his palm. Siren let a strange sort of warmth escape from his hand as the pain steadily faded away. He let out a breathy exhale, pulling away as fast as he could before he leaned into the touch. He didn't want to show weakness.
”Thanks.” He mumbled quietly, tossing the pack to Siren. “Take it. I have no use.” He offered, sliding down the ladder he used to get up to deflect any questions that might sit on the man’s tongue.
He sighed, entering the bar to watch a drunk customer stumble his way through the door. He rolled his eyes, that was the last of them. He flipped the sign on the door, going through his routine of closing the bar up as usual.
Finally, he was all done, before a man walked in, bell chiming against the door. He frowned.
”Sorry, sir, we’re closed.” Tommy mumbled, clutching the shop keys in his fist incase of a potential attack.
”You can’t make an exception?” The brunet questioned, the right side hair neatly pushed into a butterfly clip while the left was looser in comparison.
Tommy’s eyes started stinging when he realised who that was.
”Oh, holy shit. You’re Wilbur Soot.” Tommy stated.
“That’s me! I can leave you a heavy tip if you’d like, I just really need some coffee.”
Tommy shook his head to himself, nodding at Wilbur. “Of course. Type?”
”Three shots of espresso, one spoon of sugar.” He answered. “Oh, and another cup of tea with four table spoons of milk, two drops of honey, whipped cream and three dashes of sugar.”
”I- okay. Name?”
”Wilbur Soot and Phil Watson.”
”Understood,” Tommy mumbled. “Fuckin’ weirdo with a weird name. Drinking weird ass fuckin’ black coffee, at a weird ass time.” Tommy murmured under his breath, “Should be done in 3 minutes. Sit, or don’t, just don’t murder anyone or vandalise anything. It’ll be 11 pounds, by the way.”
"Are you this rude to all your customers?" Wilbur asked, chuckling as he placed his cash onto the counter.
"No. It's just an ungodly time and I want to stab myself. What's it to you?"
"Nothing, nothing, just curious."
"Yeah? Well take that curiousity and shove it up your pretentious tory ass."
"Will do, Tommy. I thought you were a fan, though?"
"Doesn't make your name any less weird, or the fact that you showed up to a coffee shop demanding three shots of espresso any less strange. True that you are one of my favourite artists, but don't think you're getting special fuckin' treatment cause of that."
"Okay, okay, I get it. You're a promoter of equality, huh?"
"No shit, king." He hummed.
It was safe to say the café gained a new regular that night.