Archive of Our Own

“This is not a good idea,” Dream says. 

Bad, standing in front of a white board, with a collection of stapled papers in his hands, sighs. He puts the papers down on the round table and folds his arms over his chest. “Dream, I heard you the first three times you said that.” 

“And I’ll say it again,” he huffs. “It’s not a good idea.” 

“After Sam, we need a new tiger trainer,” Bad says. He doesn’t speak any louder, nor does he look any more forceful. He continues speaking in that same calm, careful, logical tone that makes Dream want to smack his head against the table. “This guy is extremely qualified, extremely enthusiastic, and is willing to stay on for as long as we let him. You’ve been working with big cats for seven years now, Dream. You know that too much drastic change in a short time is traumatizing to them. I don’t really need to tell you this.” 

“But – but this is a kid,” Dream argues weakly. “He’s just turned nineteen. There’s no way he’s ready for that much responsibility so quick.” 

“Then you’ll get him ready.” Bad shrugs. “Prepare him for a life working as a tiger keeper. You’d know better than anyone what it all entails. If you teach him everything you know, then there won’t be any incidents.” 

Dream looks down at the wood of the table – all the little compressed swirls there. “Bad, the last time I trained someone –” 

“I know. I know, Dream. But this will be different. I promise you, you’re ready for this.” Bad leans forward, and Dream looks up to meet his kind eyes. “Trust yourself.” 

Dream swallows, and Bad pulls away, picking up his papers and leaving the room. Leaving Dream to stare at the picture of the young, blond haired, blue eyed kid who’d be his new tiger-keeper. 

So far, Tommy’s first day working at Essempi Zoo has just been boring as fuck. 

Maybe he isn’t being quite fair, considering it’s eleven in the morning. But honestly, he’s been awake since four, so he feels like he should be half-way through the day by now. He’s not. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Nor is he even halfway through this boring mandatory orientation. The man has honest to God physical powerpoint slides – these little disks that he slips into the projector that click when they slot into place. It takes an average of eight seconds for every slide to load, and then he drones on and on for what feels like hours before doing it all again. 

Tommy can’t stop twitching in his chair. Sitting still has never agreed with him, and if he has to for any longer, he swears when he goes to stand, he’ll leave his butt behind because it’s molded into the plastic. 

"Hey," the guy next to him whispers. Tommy's eyes widen, but he doesn't look over. " Hey." He says again. This time, Tommy turns. It’s a guy, basically bald, with a dad-cap in his hands. He looks kind of like a boy scout on drugs. 

“Uh – hi?” Tommy’s eyes flicker to the front of the room, where the man is still droning on about proper uniform attire. 

“I’m Jack.” 

Tommy stares. After a moment, Jack doesn’t continue talking, just looking expectantly and Tommy realizes he wants Tommy to say something.  “Good for you?” 

Jack rolls his eyes. “I’m Jack,” he says again. “Jack Manifold. What’s your name?” 

Tommy flushes. “Oh. I’m Tommy.” 

“Nice.” Jack tilts his head. “You seem like a ferret guy. Are you a ferret guy?” Tommy blinks. “I’m here for the lions," he says, like he's bragging. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Maybe," Tommy says slyly, resisting the urge to grin, "if I was a ferret guy. I'm here for the tigers."

Jack's eyes widen. "Well, shit! Okay – we're in the same department, then. Or, we will be. If we don't fail orientation."

"I don't think there's a way we can fail –"

"If you two would stop talking," the man at the front drones disapprovingly, "then it would be greatly appreciated." 

Tommy's mouth snaps shut. Color filters over his cheeks. Ah, whoops. Maybe there is a way to fail orientation. 

Jack, besides him, snickers quietly, making Tommy laugh as well. 

"Our supervisor," Jack says later when they've been freed from the terrible clutches of corporate responsibility, "is supposed to be this guy named Dream."

Tommy slathers cream cheese on his bagel; one perk about early morning required seminars: they offer you free breakfast bagels if you survive it. "Okay," he says. "Dream. So he…what, he watches over all the big cats? Then what's the point of us being there?" 

"I think he watches over us watching over the cats," Jack says, as if that makes any sense at all. 

"I don't think I'll need a babysitter." 

Jack raises an eyebrow. "I mean, you do look about three years old." 

Tommy glares. "I'm nineteen, you prick. And besides, from behind you're so short that you look like you're missing your mum." 

Jack gapes. "You're evil." 

He smiles. "I can handle myself – been doing it for a while now. Tigers are like my language. I don't need a supervisor." 

"Well you've got one," Jack says, sipping his water. "And so do I. And I do not look like a child missing his mother –" 

"We have to go check in next," Tommy says swiftly, poking at the itinerary sheet. "At the big cat hall. I guess we'll meet Dream there."

Jack's frowning, glaring at Tommy pointedly, but he huffs and lets it go. Tommy decides that he really likes Jack Manifold. At least – he likes making him upset. He hopes that everyone here is like Jack. Fun, easy-going, casual. It'll make work here great. 

Dream is tense. 

There are a lot of new recruits around today – he knows that Niki'll be training, and that Wilbur will be touring, and even Karl, who never gets new people, has a couple of people shadowing him today down in the tanks. It's good, all these new hands and fresh eyes, but the room for mistakes just grew vastly, and that's in the places that aren't insanely dangerous. 

Dream supervises the care of some of the world's most threatening predators, and he's training a new kid today. Well, he will be if he can get his hands to stop shaking for just one second. If he can just calm down, maybe he could convince himself that this won't be a complete and utter disaster. 

“It’ll be fine,” He mumbles, running his trembling hands through his blond locks, “it’s gonna be alright. This’ll be nothing like last time.” Dream takes a little breath, calmed as well as he can be, then turns and steps out of the storage room, into the main room. 

There's no one there except for the kid, and he's looking around in vague interest. God, he’s young. He’s got a dash of sunspots over his cheeks and even though Dream knows they make the new workers attend an early morning orientation, he doesn’t seem at all tired. He’s actually bursting with energy, rocking around like he wants to go, go, go. He pauses when he sees Dream, though. He straightens, then blinks. 

"Dude," he goes, "did you just come out of the closet?"

Dream pauses. He definitely did. "Uh – no?"

He peeks around Dream, pointing. "The door says storage closet on it." 

"That's –" Dream stammers, then realizes that he's defending himself to the new guy. "I'm Dream," he says instead. "The big cat supervisor. Are you –"

"Tommy!" Tommy chirps proudly. "And I'm your new tiger guy!" 

God, Dream thinks, he sounds even younger than he looks. This kid and his sixteen year old little sister could be friends. They could have gone to the same high-school together. 

"Great," he says weakly, "well, I'm gonna be training you for these next couple of months, so we might as well get started, yeah? Jump in head first."

Tommy bounces on his toes once. "Yes sir!"

So. 

By jump in head first Dream really meant touch your toe to the water to check the temperature, then pull back because it's too cold, and then not ever get in. 

Tommy's on table duty. 

His job is to pull the tables out of the storage room in the morning so they can prepare the cats' food on it. He's also supposed to pull chairs off the stack in the corner and slide them into places all around the emporium. Not in walk areas, Dream had said, a chuckle on his lips – he was practically wagging his finger at Tommy – I know how tempting it could be to do that, but these need to be just out of the way enough that no one will trip over them but people can still see them. 

He said it like it would be challenging, and then showed Tommy how to move a table, as if he's never done that before, and then watched Tommy do it as if somehow he could mess it up. 

Tommy won't deny, he's irked. But, he soothes himself by thinking, it's the first day, as he lugs a chair into the corner by the window for some little old grandma to use when she gets tired of walking her grandchildren around the park. It's the first day and it's the morning – it can only get better from here. Hell, Jack's probably doing the same thing. 

Jack is not doing the same thing. 

"So, Tom," Jack says later, finding him at their lunch break and just sitting at his table like he was invited. "Did you meet your cats yet?"

Tommy, personally, is going to kill Dream. 

"Did you?" He asks, trying to seem casual. Jack's chest puffs like a frigatebird and Tommy wants to throw his fries in the dude's face. 

"I did," Jack boasts, "got em' all used to the Jack Manifold smell, I did."

"Well, no wonder you had to start earlier than I did –" Tommy tosses a fry at his face, just to hear him squawk, " – you stink, man." 

"You're just jealous," Jack pops the fry into his mouth, unbothered. Tommy tries not to let on how true that statement really is. "I'm a successful man. You are a tiny guy." 

Tommy sighs. Well, he thinks, shoving fried potato into his mouth, at least he didn't say child. “I’m on table duty,” he says, despondent. Jack winces. 

“That’s …well, hey, think about it this way, you’re very important to getting the cats fed!” He tries. “Without you, there would be no table to prepare the food on, and then they wouldn’t get it.” 

“Jack, you could prepare a tiger’s food on the dirt in front of them and they wouldn’t give a fuck,” Tommy says, voice dead. “Face it. I’m the new guy who’s doing busy work. Dream just wants me out of the way.” 

Jack doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that – but he does nudge his funnel cake over to Tommy, so Tommy guesses he’ll take it. 

Tommy, after two days of sulking, decides not to let table duty dampen his spirit. 

He's still working in an amazing place with amazing people and sick animals – Dream can't possibly supervise him everywhere. So, in the mornings when he's finished moving the tables and checks that he's done all the chairs, and stares longingly at the tigers way, way down in their enclosure, he goes walking. 

He meets Niki, who works with the lions, who wears pants covered in daisies and has platinum blonde hair and can make lioness’ roll over with just one hand motion. He meets Quackity, who works with the leopards, who has a scar going down his eye from an accident a few years ago and wears suspenders and button downs like it isn’t always ninety degrees. He meets Sapnap, who works with the pumas, who, for the whole the whole hour that Tommy spent with him, evenly swapped between talking about Quackity and Karl, who works with the fish. 

Tommy’s never giving that man another hour of his life again. Not unless he’s getting paid for it, that is. 

He even, in his mindless strolling, collided head first with Wilbur, the zoo tour guide, who was leading a group of patrons into the big cat section. Wilbur was sweet about it, and played it off well, and Tommy even bounced along, following, letting Wilbur take him through the jungle then down to the tanks with the lizards and fish, and then back up to the elephants and monkeys. 

"Thanks for hanging around," Wilbur said once the group had dispersed. He was smiling like he meant it. "You made that group fun. I mean, they're all fun, but – I don't know. It was different."

Tommy beamed. 

He decided that he wouldn't be contained by Dream's weird…container. 

He makes friends all over the park – Tubbo, who keeps the grounds and is always toting flowers around the cobblestone paths, and Karl, who talks to the fish that he watches over, and lets Tommy help him feed, and Hannah, in the cafe, who makes Tommy a free milkshake if he comes in looking sad enough. 

He also secretly sneaks to see the tigers. 

It's not much different than back at the circus, really. There's always a time of day where the lull in people and workers visiting make the tigers roam. This is them at their friendliest. Tommy knows tigers. 

He, making sure no one is looking, unlocks the door and slips inside the enclosure, crouching, and keeping still. They just watch him at first – the big one, a golden bengal, turns a lazy eye on him, and the small cub, curled at his feet, just turns, surprised. Tommy simply blinks and sits there, calm. There are other tigers, but they're far off and Tommy can tell from the way they walk that they're more aggressive. These two are interested, and not just because Tommy smells like a snack. 

Eventually, they move, slow and creeping. They walk around, trying to make it seem as if they're not coming closer, but really are. 

Don't look away, Schlatt's voice says in his head – distantly, he feels his collarbone thob with phantom pain – don't be afraid. Be relaxed and in control. Be like a cat yourself. 

The big one steps forward, and, with beautiful green eyes, leans closer to sniff at Tommy's knee. 

"Hello," he says quietly. The cub, tucked under the tiger's legs, hides, and Tommy knows better than to try and coax him out. "Hi. I'm Tommy." 

The tiger looks up, then huffs in Tommy's face, as if unimpressed. 

"Well, sorry," Tommy mumbles, grinning a bit. "I know, it's not that special a name. You probably meet a million Tommy's huh? They go running by every day, don’t they?" Then he tilts his head, thinking. The tiger tilts his head too, as if waiting. "You know what – you need a name. I'm gonna come up with a name for you. You and your cub." 

Distantly, Tommy can hear the clock chiming, signaling the end of the hour, and that means Dream will be coming back to make sure Tommy's ready for the next wave of kids that come after lunch. Today he's supposed to be passing out pamphlets on big cat habit awareness. Yippie. 

"I've got to go, okay?" He says, inching backwards. The tiger stares at him blankly. "I'll be back, I promise. And I'll get you a name fit for a king."

The tiger's tail flicks, and then he turns away, taking his cub with him. 

"Today I'm going to teach you how to feed the tigers." Dream says, and Tommy perks up. It only took two weeks, but hey, maybe he's proven that he's trustworthy now. 

Those tables were no joke. 

Tommy remembers feeding time back at the circus – laying out slabs of meat at the door of the cage, and then sitting there, staying still, as they stalked closer and ate their fill. It was good learning – teaching all the young recruits what being devoured looked like. What happened to kids who weren't confident in their movements and their command of the cats. 

Tommy, once he swallowed the fear of seeing teeth and claws in action so close again, had grown to like feeding. He liked watching the way a tiger moved when it was entranced by instinct. It was mesmerizing. And they got lethargic after a meal, and if Tommy was still there, they'd press their snouts against the cage, letting Tommy skirt graceful, bandaged fingers over their noses. 

"Feeding," Tommy grins to himself, almost bouncing in place in excitement. "Okay. Okay – what should I do first? Should I go open the enclosure door and –"

"Woah," Dream looks alarmed. "Woah, what? No, we don't open that door. Ever. Not unless all the tigers are sedated and we need to do something drastic. No, we feed them from the top."

Tommy's excitement dims just a little, but he'll accept that. If a public zoo ran exactly the same way as a traveling back-roads circus, then people would have a lot of questions. And complaints. 

"From the top?" He asks, following Dream when he starts walking to the locked freezer. "What, do you climb out on ropes and drop the food down? Do you swing?" 

Dream seems disturbed. "This isn't a circus, Tommy." 

Tommy's mouth clicks shut. His shoulders pull in, self-conscious. 

It's not that he's embarrassed about where he came from. No, he loves his background. It taught him a lot – how to talk to people from vast walks of life, how not to judge just on sight, how to adapt quickly, how to improvise. It gave him a family when he didn’t have one, and even if there were times when it hurt him, if he had the chance, he’d go back and do it all again without thinking. But – it’s just – people like judging him because of it. They hear circus-child and look at him and think he’s undisciplined, and uneducated, and unruly. He’s not – he’s smart, and capable, and resourceful. It just so happens that he learned all his life lessons in a ring. 

“I know that,” Tommy grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe if it was, people would know how to have fun here.” 

Dream either doesn’t hear him, or chooses to ignore him, because he just keeps pulling meat packs out of the freezers. "This is what we do – prepare the meat. Each cat gets one bite sized piece – bite sized for a tiger– and we slice an inch-long slit into them and fill them with these supplements. This'll keep them nice and healthy." 

Tommy nods, following Dream's lead, stabbing each bit of meat and carefully pouring the crushed tablets inside. When they're done, they've got a whole basket ready for the tigers. 

"Alright, now what?" Tommy asks, tipping from side to side. "Do we head over to the enclosure? Do we – are you gonna introduce me to the cats?" 

Dream takes the basket and smiles thinly. "I'm gonna go give these to them. You stay here."

Tommy's smile drops. "Wh – what?" 

He nods, pats Tommy's shoulder with a gloved hand, and leaves through the glass doors. Tommy, dumbfounded, watches him go. 

"It's all fuckin' stupid, isn't it?" Tommy rants, waving his hands wildly. He accidentally knocks his wrist against the tiger's ear, and he pauses in sniffing over Tommy's hair to huff. "Sorry, sorry, but – it's just –" 

He makes a noise of frustration, then drops back, flopping down into the dirt and leaves. The tiger laying at his side rumbles a bit. 

“It’s dumb. I’m not fragile. I’m – I’m huge. And I’m good with you guys.” Tommy says, defending himself to no one. His eyes cut sideways when he feels little claws at his leg. The cub has crawled over and is now laying against him as if he was a rock. Or – or a part of their streak. The older tiger doesn’t seem bothered by Tommy being so close, and Tommy bites back a happy sigh. This is where he belongs – curled up with the creatures he’s spent his whole life getting to know. 

"Sometimes," Tommy says softly, "I think I understand you guys more than I get real people." He turns over, proping his face up in the palm of his hands, looking the tiger in the eyes. "You guys are simple. You want food and warmth and to keep the people you like safe. I should've been a tiger instead of a stupid human." 

The tiger huffs, then leans closer, maw opening and tongue lolling to swipe up Tommy's nose and forehead. Tommy resists the urge to squirm. 

"Ugh," he says, "thanks mate." He pauses. “I think I’ve got just the name for you guys. Your plaque says Dave, but that’s so –” Tommy’s nose wrinkles. “You know? Boring. That’s like my co-worker Dave, or like, Dave from state farm, or whatever his name is. Bleh. You need a strong name. A powerful name. Technoblade. Fierce and tough.” 

The little claws come again, the cub is kneading and purring up a storm. Tommy laughs. “And you too, little guy. You too – Ranboo. You’re all small and funny. In a good way. Ranboo’s the perfect name for you.” 

He's about to reach out and brush his fingers through Ranboo’s fur, when a screech freezes him. 

"Tommy?" 

Tommy jerks, startled, and cranes his neck, turning to blink at the closed gate. Niki is on the other side, mouth wide open and a box of new, not frayed ropes in her arms. 

"Tommy?" She says again, voice pitching up, up, up, and Tommy realizes that he's laying here with an adult tiger that’s over twice his weight like it’s nothing. Plus the tiger's mouth is only centimeters away from his vulnerable throat. To normal people, he’s a goner. "Oh god, Tommy – "

"Niki, breathe," he says, because Techno’s started rumbling low in his throat, all uneasy now that Tommy seems stressed. He can't see Niki from where he's laying, but he can see Tommy, and that's enough. "Breathe, Niki, be calm, okay?" 

Niki gulps, chest heaving. "I'm – I’m breathing. What are you doing?" 

Tommy reaches out, skirts a hand over Techno’s fur. He eases, the noise dropping away into a purr. "I'm gonna go now, okay?" He whispers, receiving an irritated ear flick in response. "I know, I know. I'll be back, I promise. I always come back, remember?"

Tommy pulls away slowly, carefully dislodging Ranboo’s claws from his cargo pants, then stands, slowly moving back towards the glass door and opening it, letting himself into the air conditioned hall. 

"Oh god," Niki says once the door is sealed. "Dream is going to fire me." 

"No, no, he won't," Tommy raises his hands as if he's dealing with a wild animal, realizes his mistake and puts them behind his back. "Actually, Dream doesn't even need to know. Like, really. If you think about it."

"You were just laying in the tiger enclosure," Niki points out. " You looked dead." 

"I was just napping," Tommy insists. "It's a nice sunny spot in there!" 

"You – the – " Niki stumbles, then closes her eyes and sighs heavily. "Tommy. Tommy, you can't do that."

Tommy balks. "Why not?"

"Because if you die, then we have to pay for it!"

Tommy rolls his eyes. "I signed a waiver. It was a part of the contract." 

“That’s not the point!” 

“Then what is the point?” Tommy snaps. He’s getting really tired of all these shitty rules that he keeps running into. How could something as simple as laying in the sun, something that’s finally made him feel at home since he got here, be so bad? Niki looks at him, and Tommy sighs. “I’m sorry, Niki. I didn’t mean to snap, really, I just – I miss them, you know?” 

Niki sighs too. “I understand, Tommy. Trust me. Puffy is the lion cub I’ve been watching since I started working here, and sometimes I forget that even she’s capable of killing or seriously hurting me.” 

“But they aren’t all bad,” Tommy argues. “They can be gentle and shit!” 

“Gentle and shit,” she repeats, amused. 

“Comfortable,” he amends, flushed. “They can be…home.” 

Niki tilts her head. Her gaze flickers over to the glass door, where Ranboo can still be seen, batting a paw in the dirt, chasing a bug. She seems to consider something. “Come over to my house tonight,” she says suddenly. Tommy winces – he opens his mouth to decline, but – “I’ve got this new kitten and you know, you’re pretty good with cats, so I was wondering if you’d help me with her. Please? I’ll buy you dinner?” 

Well, Tommy’s never one to turn down free food. That’s for sure. 

Niki’s kitten is more dangerous than all the tigers Tommy’s ever interacted with – except that very first one, but even that is saying something that she gets so close. 

“I just don’t know why she always wants to kill everything she sees,” Niki says, fretting as she puts her hello kitty bandaids down on the coffee table so Tommy can slap them onto his now bleeding hands. Zuko, the kitten in question, is under the desk, hissing at Tommy as if he’s done something personally bad to her. “She’s usually not this – wild.” 

“Well, I have been told that I have an annoying face,” Tommy says, cradling his hands to his chest. Niki tsks, holding out disinfectant. 

“I doubt that,” she says, then pauses. “Let me help, Tommy.” 

Tommy hesitates, then offers his hands. Niki is gentle as she turns them over, making sympathetic sounds every so often when another bleeding mark comes up. “You have a lot of these,” she says softly. 

“Life of a tiger person,” he says sheepishly. “What can you do?” 

Niki hums, then touches his pulse. At the thin, faded, more ordered scars there. “And…these? This also an occupational hazard?” 

Tommy’s expression shutters slightly. His shoulders come up around his ears. “Sort of,” is what he settles on, because he doesn’t like to think about those dark days when his mind felt it was turning inside out on him, and he would lay in a hay bed, crying, wishing that he could just be normal and have a normal set of parents to watch over him, instead of a ringleader that didn’t mind tossing him in a tiger cage on his own. 

“I quit though,” he adds, meaning it both ways – every way that he can mean it. “I’m – I’m here now.” 

Niki smiles, sweet and soft. “I understand,” and when she reaches over for a cotton ball, Tommy sees her own matching scars where her sleeve slips. “I’m glad that you’re here. And you’re welcome over anytime, you hear me? Maybe we’re not as good as a tiger, but – well, this place can be a home too – if you wanted it to be.” 

Tommy’s shoulders lower, and he smiles. “Yeah. Maybe.” 

The moment that Dream walks into the big cat emporium, he zeroes in on Tommy’s band-aid covered hands and almost passes out right there in the doorway. 

“What?” He goes, stepping forward, interrupting whatever conversation that Tommy and Quackity were having by taking Tommy’s hands into his own. His heart feels like it’s about to race out of its chest. “What – what is this? What the hell happened?” 

A million images flash in his mind – Tommy, dutifully feeding the tigers, forgetting to use the tongs and to wear gloves. Tommy, with hands that smell of meat, getting snapped at by a hungry cat. Tommy falling back away from the cage, cradling his bleeding hands to his chest, crying, but no one being around to hear him because he feeds them all on his own with no one watching. 

“Dude,” Tommy tries yanking his hands away, but Dream holds on, turning them over so he can look at Tommy’s palms. “Dude, stop.” He yanks again, harder, and Dream finally lets go. “I went to Niki’s this weekend. She’s got a new kitten that doesn’t know how to handle her claws, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Dream pauses as the words register. Oh. Tommy wasn’t – he’s fine. Oh. 

Dream’s cheeks color, and he looks over at Quackity, who’s watching with a curious look. Tommy on the other hand, doesn’t seem at all curious or forgiving. He’s annoyed. 

“Uh – nothing.” Dream manages. He steps back awkwardly. “Nothing. I thought I saw something. Carry on,” he tries to laugh, but it twists weirdly, and Tommy merely rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Don’t worry about feeding tonight – I’ll take care of that.” 

This, Tommy balks at. “What? You – what? No, Dream, what? That’s like – the one thing that you let me do!” 

“So you can take time off for tonight,” Dream says easily. “You’re nineteen! Go have fun! Take the day – you deserve it.” 

Tommy doesn’t seem happy. In fact, he glares so hard that Dream can imagine lasers coming out of those blue eyes. Dream smiles, and then, conscious of how vulnerable he would be to an attack from a tall child, backs out of the cat emporium. 

“He just doesn’t trust me,” Tommy complains loudly, kicking his feet. He bumps the table and the fries jolt, threatening to go spilling across the hot ground to the birds. “I mean, haven’t I proved that I can handle myself? I’ve been working with animals like this since before I could talk.” 

Wilbur settles the table. Quackity, across from him, winces. 

“Well maybe that’s the thing,” he says. Tommy looks at him. “Maybe, because you’ve been so exposed to them, you don’t really see the danger anymore. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.” 

Tommy huffs. “I know tigers are dangerous, big Q, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” 

“I mean, I did hear from Niki that you went into the cage alone last week.” Wilbur frowns. 

Tommy squints. “Do you guys get together just to talk about me?” Wilbur, unashamed, nods easily. Tommy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, so what? I do that – I did that a lot back at the circus, and those tigers were even more wild than these ones are!” 

“That…isn’t good, Tommy,” Quackity says slowly. 

"It is," Tommy argues. "Because then that way the tigers see that you're willing to put yourself at risk for their trust. That's what Schlatt always said. They can tell if you aren't willing to die for it. They can feel weakness." 

Quackity's face twists like he's eaten something awful. Wilbur looks disturbed. 

"Tommy, proper safety isn't weakness." Wilbur tries. "I get what you're trying to say, but I don't think Dream sees it the way you do." 

Tommy's eyes flicker to Quackity, who has that similar wary look that Dream sometimes sports – as if Tommy is a timed explosion waiting to happen. As if he's already dead. He rolls his eyes, ignoring the unsettling feeling in his gut. Having people care about his well being is – weird. Different. Bad. Tommy’s not really sure yet. 

"Whatever," he grumbles, shoving a fry into his mouth. “You guys suck.” 

"Niki watches me through the glass sometimes," Jack says, and Tommy appreciates the attempt, really, he does, but it just isn't the same. 

"I bet Niki doesn't call you a child and offer to put training wheels on your bike for you."

Jack blinks. Pauses in his leaf raking. "Is Dream doing that?"

Tommy blows out a breath, ruffling his own bangs. Maybe he should go bald like Jack Manifold. " No," he says, rolling his eyes, "but I mean – hypothetically, he is."

"I don't think you understand what a hypothetical is, Tommy."

"I know what a supervisor is! And I know how tigers act!" He blusters, shaking out the plastic bag that they need to shove all the ruined foliage into. "I know how to make them act the way I want them to. I don't need someone to tell me what to do!"

"Now I really don't think you know what a supervisor is," Jack mumbles. He stops raising for real though, and leans against the rake, raising an eyebrow. "Tommy, maybe just talk to the guy. I told Niki what I felt like I could do and what I felt like I needed help with and boom, no more issues. Maybe you should just have a conversation with the guy." 

"I'll curse at him." Tommy says, staring. 

Jack looks alarmed. "As in you'll end up cursing at him, or as in you plan to curse at him?"

"I haven't decided yet," Tommy shakes the bag pointedly and Jack sighs and dumps the leaves inside. "But if I get fired, then I'll let you know."

"If you get fired, you won't have to let me know. But okay, Tom, sure." 

Tommy didn't mean to bring it up. Like, at all. He was perfectly content with complaining about it loudly to everyone around Dream and having that be his daily routine until he either got fired or left. 

But, of course, during morning check – six in the morning– Dream appears from around some random corner to trail behind Tommy as he flicks on lights and pulls out tables, and Tommy just – he hates having someone over his shoulder. He hates it. 

Back at the circus, he was lucky if he could get someone around him when he neded help, and yeah, it was fucking depressing, but at least Tommy didn’t feel watched. At least he didn’t feel caged in. No fucking wonder the tigers sometimes lose it when they get the chance to be free. If Tommy has to live like this for one more second, he’s going to claw Dream’s eyes out. 

Dream, on the other hand, is completely unaware of Tommy's brewing anger. He was in his office when he heard the pulls of tables across linoleum, so he came out to check who it was. He wasn't even following that closely, just enough to see what Tommy was doing and smiling – maybe a little proud – when he saw that he was doing all the things Dream taught him. 

Dream forgot how nice it was to have a trainee under him. 

Apparently, Tommy didn't think the same. 

“Dude!” Tommy exclaims suddenly, spinning around, shoulders tight and face pinched in anger. “I know you’re like, my boss or whatever, and I can probably be fired for saying this, but can you please fuck off ?” 

Dream flinches back, startled. “Wha–” 

“You’re hovering, man. You’re always fucking hovering!” Tommy continues. “I can’t do anything without you checking up on it, or watching. I can’t do anything without you looking on like I’ll fucking combust if you so much as glance away! You don’t even trust me to feed the animals that I should be spending all day with! Honestly, you might as well just fire me and then hire someone else to do this job. Someone you don’t feel the need to babysit!” 

Dream opens his mouth to argue, to say I don’t feel like I have to babysit you, but he abruptly shuts it when he realizes – that isn’t completely true, is it? He does feel like he has to watch Tommy. His heart jumps anytime that something so much as doesn’t work correctly near him. He can’t help it. And it isn’t fair to Tommy. 

Tommy looks at him, expectant and a little miffed. 

“I’m sorry,” Dream breathes, stepping back. Tommy’s jaw drops. 

“What?” 

“You’re right,” Dream says louder. “You’re right. I’ve been treating you like you’re made of glass. Like you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

Tommy hesitates, and then the anger melts from his expression. "Why, Dream? Why? What did I do?" 

"Nothing," Dream admits. "You've done nothing wrong. I just – it's me. It's all me." Tommy shifts forward silently, and Dream realizes that he's waiting. He's listening if Dream wants to tell. Dream inhales deeply and looks up at the ceiling. 

"When I was younger and first starting out, I was cocky. I wasn't completely attentive and I certainly wasn't safe. It's a miracle I never got hurt. When I was promoted, I took it more seriously because then it was other people's lives in my hands, not just my own, but still, it wasn't enough."

Tommy's eyes widen. "What happened?"

"I did a walk through two hours before we opened," Dream recalls, images from the past flickering before him. "I was meant to check the gates and locks and bars. Just to be sure that they were all sturdy. If guests walk through and they're not…if they lean on one and it opens…" Dream trails off, but Tommy nods, already having filled in the blanks. A disaster is basically what that would be. "But, of course, I wasn't thorough enough. And my tiger trainer, Ponk, ended up suffering the consequences of it."

"What happened to them?"

Dream's eyes squeeze shut. The sound of Ponk's yells echo in his ears. "Ponk went in to feed them. And the– the gate wasn't locked." He inhales sharply and tucks his shaking hands, crossing his arms. "Ponk was mauled. Pinned to the ground and – and it's – fuck, it's a damn miracle that he's alive." 

"He is?" Tommy asks. Dream opens his eyes, and Tommy looks exactly his age: frightened, worried, just a kid listening to a scary story. Dream suddenly feels awful. Of course he wanted to scare Tommy into taking more care for himself, but not– God, not with this. 

Dream forces himself to breathe. "He is," he reassures. "Ponk is okay. He lost his arm, but he's alive and is still working with animals today. He rescues now. Injured cats that need medical attention." 

"Oh." The silence settles a bit, and then Tommy shifts, pulling at his own collar. There's a pale, thin scar racing down his collarbone and leading sideways to his chest. "I got this when I was a kid."

"When you were a kid?"

Tommy shrugs, averts his eyes. "I was thirteen, and it was my first time with tigers. I was being trained, and where I come from, they kinda just – throw you into the cage and let you figure it out."

Dream's throat squeezes. "They what?" 

Tommy shrugs again, like it's no big deal. He pulls back up his collar, covering the mark. "It's whatever, you know. That's life. You learn from hurt. And I learned. Now I'm here." He smiles a bit, haunted and crooked. "I’m here,” he says again, like that’s significant. His eyes focus, regarding Dream. “It’s weird here. You're weird. You care too much and go all…frazzled when something goes wrong… I think – I think it's nice to have someone that cares. Sometimes." 

"They shouldn't have done that to you, Tommy," Dream says, insides still crawling with horror at the thought of an even younger faced Tommy shaking and bleeding in a tiger cage all on his own. "They shouldn't have done that."

"Maybe," Tommy says. "But it happened. If you promise me that it won't happen here, then maybe we can…trust each other." 

"Maybe we can," Dream considers. He, hesitantly, slots his hands over Tommy's freckled ones. "Tommy, I trust you."

Tommy blinks at him for a moment. Then his nose wrinkles. "What are you doing?"

Dream flushes. "I was– this is a moment!"

"No," Tommy says, "no it isn't. You really –" he snorts, "you really tried to hold my hands, like –"

Dream pulls back, embarrassed. He braces the back of his wrist against his forehead, hiding. "I thought it was appropriate –"

" – as if this was some kind of prayer circle." Tommy finishes, grinning. "Like we were singing kumbaya, my lord, kumbaya –" 

"Shut it," Dream hisses, but he's laughing, so Tommy laughs too, loud and happy. "I can still fire you, Simons. You've got one foot out the door."

"Oh sure, Dream, sure." His eyes glimmer. "But who would you hire in my place? You trust me." 

Dream sighs heavily, but doesn't deny it. 

Tommy falls into the tiger enclosure. 

It was fine – it was all going fine: Dream was not hovering, trusting Tommy and Tommy was actually following instructions. Lean over the top bars of the enclosure, toss the bites of meat down to where the tigers lay. When every tiger gets one, back up and leave. Easy, simple instructions. 

Except – except, Ranboo's food was taken by one of the other, older tigers. Tommy saw it happen. He threw down the piece, and aimed it just a bit too far from Ranboo's reach, and one of the older tigers snatched it before Ranboo could stake his claim. 

Tommy felt personally offended, watching it happen. There were times at the circus when food was scarce; where Tommy would hunch over what he had or eat curled away from prying eyes so he could have peace. There were many days when older kids would knock him to the ground and kick in a rib, wrenching what little he had away from his hands. He never blamed them, of course. Food makes people like that. 

It makes tigers like that too. 

And Tommy isn't going to stand here and let it happen to his cub on his watch. Not when he can do something about it. 

So, yeah, maybe he leans a little too far. Maybe he reaches out too long a hand. Maybe he flings the piece of meat and by rocking his toes, he dislodges his own base and his upper body tips down and his legs go up, and he's flipping and turning over the edge of the enclosure and falling, slamming down into the dirt on his stomach. 

He hears a distant scream – maybe two, maybe three. He doesn't know who was nearby before he started working, because it's never mattered before. But those screams can't help him now. Not when he's here, in all the hungry tigers' eyesights smelling like their lunch. 

His breath was knocked out of his gut, and he landed on his arm, and while he knows it's not broken, the lack of air and sudden pain rocking up his bone makes him whine. 

His first instinct is to pull himself to his feet and sprint for the door. 

It's a human response – to run, to turn your back, to attempt escape. But Tommy knows – he knows– how that ends. How it always ends. 

Tommy's thirteen and it's his day to train with tigers. 

He's excited, because ever since he was found by the circus and judged and taken in, he's been told you were made for the tigers. That's all he's heard in his two years preparing for this day – you were made for the tigers – so Tommy, naturally, believed it. 

No one else could do it. No one but him. 

Schlatt let him over to the cage, tapped the bars with his cane and grinned, twisted and sly. "This is the first test, kid. We're gonna put you in, and see how you do amongst them." 

Tommy, foolish and small, nodded, jittering in excitement. The cage opened and he was shoved inside. 

Here's the thing they don't tell you about being locked inside of a place with no way out. The things inside your cage all of a sudden expand, leaving you feeling like there's no room for you. Tommy felt safe behind the barrier, but once he was locked in like them, he realized – oh. Oh no. This is their domain. 

He was stupid and cowardly and most of all terrified, so he ran for the cage lock, trying to get out. And cats, when they see a target darting across their vision, want to pounce. That cat did. Tommy went from up right and just a hairs length away from freedom, to pinned down and pressed into the dirt, claws digging into his chest and teeth right at his nose. 

"Please," he whined breathlessly, pain like it was coming from a lance being dragged across his skin. He was talking to the tiger, because he knew, without question, that Schlatt would leave him here. That Schlatt would let him die. " Please," Tommy begged, thirteen and choked. 

Now, Tommy is nineteen, and Tommy, shaking with pain, can't stop the way his limbs curl over his empty gut, shuttering himself away. He makes himself a smaller target, a less enticing meal, because that's what he is now – he's a tiger's plaything – no one can save him from this. 

He wants to scream for help – for someone, anyone, to come barreling through the doors – Niki, Jack, Quackity. Even Wilbur. Tommy would take Wilbur over dying alone any day. But Dream said we never open those doors – we only go in if all the tigers are sedated. 

No one is coming. Tommy is thirteen again, and no one is coming. 

The tiger that took Ranboo's food is stalking closer, sizing him up, eyes glinting, flashing with hunger, and Tommy muffles a broken cry. Please, he wants to beg, please don't – or at least – make it quick. But the tiger won't hear him. The tiger won't understand. Tommy will be pinned, the little breath he has pressed out of him, and he'll be clawed, and he'll be gone. 

But – all of a sudden, a paw stepped into his watering vision. Orange fur, undercut with fluffy white, strong limbs and flat eyes. Technoblade. He's making a low threatening sound, his fur bristling. He's angry. And he's – he's facing away from Tommy. His back is to Tommy, he's – he's protecting. 

The other tiger stalks to the side, but Techno's growls pitch upward, his lips curling. Stay away, the sound says. Stay away or else. 

Shockingly, the other tiger drops away, cowed, and Tommy blinks through tears, astonished that he isn't dead. But then, Techno turns, and Tommy's heart drops. 

Tigers will do this – stake their claim on a meal – fight each other for the chance to have the kill. Lions are lazy. Tigers are ruthless. 

Tommy shrinks into himself, cradling his hurt arm and pressing his back to the concrete wall. He's trapped, and Techno is right there. "Please," he wheezes, trembling, "please, don't –"

Techno's head dips, and he sniffs along Tommy's body – his stomach, his head, when he gets to Tommy's cradled arm, he pauses, and makes a low sound in his throat. It startles Tommy, because – well, because that's the sound a tiger makes at a cub. A soothing croon, a low warble. 

"Techno?" Tommy whispers, daring to unfurl slightly. Techno's head dips again and he drops, laying there, letting his heavy head drop against Tommy's stomach. He's rumbling – purring– and Tommy can't believe what's happening. Hesitantly, he reaches out his uninjured arm and curls it around Techno's neck. 

Techno doesn't even huff in annoyance. He sets to licking at Tommy, cleaning whatever part of him he can, and Tommy realizes this is him trying to soothe Tommy. No doubt Techno can smell the pain and fear on him, no doubt he can hear Tommy's heart tumbling violently in his chest. 

You're safe, Techno is saying by swiping his tongue over Tommy's neck, you're with me, he's promising, as he presses closer, caging Tommy in with his own body. 

"Thank you, buddy," Tommy whispers, scratching at Techno's nape. "I –" 

The door to the enclosure bangs open. 

At first, Tommy can't tell what it is, because it sounds like a gunshot and Tommy's vision is blocked by orange and white. But Techno only starts growling with Tommy tries curling up into himself again out of fear, so Tommy makes himself calm. 

He peeks up, then realizes that the enclosure door is open, and Dream is standing there, eyes wild, a suit made of padding on. 

He came after Tommy. Tommy fell in, and Dream didn't leave him there. 

"Tommy!" He hollers, voice shaking, "Tommy, are you –"

"Dream!" Tommy lifts his not bad hand and yells back, desperate, "I'm here – please –" 

Dream is running over immediately, and it must mean something that he has that suit on because the tigers all part for him. Techno doesn't move, unbothered, and Tommy can tell panic is making Dream dizzy so he –

"It's okay," he rasps frantically, "Dream, it's okay. Techno isn't hurting me. He saved me." 

Dream blinks. He shakes himself, then reaches out a hand. It's shaking. "Tommy, please, come – come here."

Tommy brushes a soothing hand over Techno's back, then starts to stand, pulling away. When Techno makes a displeased noise, Tommy pauses, then bumps his forehead against Techno's like a cat. 

"I'm alright. Thanks to you." Then he reaches over and takes Dream's hand. 

" – so sorry," Tommy is rambling as soon as they're out of the enclosure and in the white hall. He sounds desperate because he is. He just wants to keep his job, he didn't mean for all this to happen. "I didn't want to fall in, and I should've been better –"

Dream, who was quietly stripping off the padded velcro suit, suddenly turns and without warning, pulls Tommy in. 

Tommy's mouth clicks shut in shock.

"I'm so grateful that you're alive," Dream whispers, and more tears well up in Tommy's eyes. He reaches around with his good arm and squeezes back. 

"Me too," Tommy sighs. "Me too." He hesitates, then tentatively goes, "you came after me."

"I wasn't gonna leave you on your own," Dream pulls back, reaching up to smudge dirt off Tommy's cheek. Tommy leans into the kind hand. "But I guess – I guess I didn't really need to come in, did I? You really do know tigers." His eyes turn playful. "Who is Techno?" 

Tommy flushes a deep red. "Well –" 

“This is Techno,” Tommy says, voice soft, movements slow as he guides a hand over Techno’s snout, wafting Dream’s scent over so he knows that Dream is safe, and good and one of his. “And this is Ranboo.” 

Dream pauses, waiting for Tommy’s approval before kneeling, and holding up a hand. “Hi Techno.” 

Techno blinks, then blows a breath at Dream, turning and walking away. Dream gapes, speechless, and Tommy stifles the giggles threatening to fly out. 

“He hates you!” Tommy cheers, delighted. “Oh, this is great!” 

Dream sighs, his gaze sliding sideways to watch Tommy curl two arms around his gut. He was right – this is a bad idea. This kid is going to ruin him. 

Dream smiles fondly, then tries to school his expression into something disgruntled. Worth it, he thinks. It’ll be worth it.