Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pogtopia isn’t doing wonders for Wilbur.

It’s not a shock that he’s not coping well, but it's the magnitude of how badly he’s taken it that catches Tommy off guard. His older brother has gone from kind and warm to steadfast leader to raving madman over the course of less than two months.

So Tommy makes a plan–a desperate shot in the dark based on a single exchange that may have been nothing. After Dream had given them supplies in secret, there had been a comment that stuck out.

“I look forward to seeing how you get out of this.” The admin had said like it was an afterthought. There had been something, some quality to his voice that caught Tommy’s attention.

Because it hadn’t been directed at both of the brothers. The ominous false smile had been aimed at Tommy.

And then Dream had vanished like smoke before he or Wilbur could comment on it.

So when Wilbur’s mania starts getting worse and worse–always out of sight of Techno, not that their supposed brother sought them out much–Tommy steels his nerves and sends the admin a message.

It’s the middle of the night and he’s alone–hopefully, at least–with one of the most dangerous people on the server. Dream has fought a war against him and his and personally taken two of his three lives.

He walks a tightrope now, where a big enough fuckup will send him plummeting into the Void. That’s Dream’s doing.

But here Tommy is, in a clearing a decent distance from Pogtopia so that Wilbur didn’t overhear anything. It’s a further risk, but if this fails–

Well. If Dream kills him here, then Tommy will just have to haunt him forever.

The admin stands in front of him, looking as annoyingly calm and “I’m the biggest man around, look at me go” as he always does, with his hands tucked neatly in his hoodie pocket.

What a hoodie it is, too. Tommy is ninety-percent sure that horrifying shade of neon green will be in his nightmares forever.

He’s not in a position that he can diss the bastard’s fashion sense (or the lack thereof), though, so instead, he swallows his pride and starts talking.

“You’re– as much as I hate to admit it, you’re strong. You have fuckin’...resources n' shit. Help Wil– help us– get L’manburg back, and I’ll do anything.”

The admin stares at him, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. The thick black smile on his mask taunts him.

"Anything?" The single word is curious, amused, and thoughtful in a way that makes a shiver crawl up Tommy’s spine.

Still, he lifts his chin and replies, "Yeah. Anything."

He gets the impression that Dream is grinning under his mask. "Become my student, then. You’re bold, you’re smart, you’re interesting. I think you have potential and you just need the right person to bring it out.”

The absolute fuck?

He stares, and he's sure his confusion is written all over his face.

“What? I…” His brain takes a few seconds to really process it, before he shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t fuckin’ understand. Why would you, of all people, want to teach me how to fight?”

Dream laughs. The teakettle noise is bright and nostalgic but still makes Tommy bristle. “It’ll be more than just fighting. You'll learn everything, Tommy."

The word everything holds some sort of weight to it that Tommy can't really decipher. But still, when Dream offers his hand, he takes a deep breath and shakes it.

Anything for his brother.

He realizes he’s made a deal with possibly the literal devil– or, well, one of them, since he’s pretty sure Bad is one too– and has been just a hair impulsive in how fast he agreed. He adds, quickly, "I– Wil is doing bad right now, so I can't just fuckin' leave."

Tommy expects Dream to scoff tell him his concerns are stupid and childish. That's what Wilbur would do. That's probably what Techno would do, to, and it'd hurt all the more because they were right.

But he's surprised again by Dream shrugging. "That's fine. I figured as much, anyway."

There's a slight pause, like he's debating it, and then Dream reaches out with a gloved hand and ruffles through Tommy's unruly blond curls.

The teen freezes like a deer in the headlights.

Because Dream's hand is warm, and even though his movements are light and gentle, barely more than a brush, it reminds him of what Wilbur used to be like.

It reminds him of when he saw his brother smile and laugh. Really laugh, not the chilling cackles that seem to echo endlessly in the dank, dark series of ravines that is Pogtopia.

All too soon, Dream pulls away, and Tommy has to resist the urge to chase his hand.

"Just– you can tell me if you really do need some fresh air, okay? Like, if you need to leave Pogtopia for a bit. You’ll have to get out to do lessons, anyway."

There's something in Dream's tone, a little soft and oddly caring. It's strange, almost alien to hear in his voice.

No, a part of him whispers. He had been like this before, hadn’t he? Before real conflict, when the worst that ever happened was the occasional prank taken a bit too far or Dream managing to snatch his discs for a few hours.

It feels like that was forever ago.

Prime, he wants to go back to then. He wants so badly to stop having to fight.

He smothers his longing and instead plasters a smug grin on his face. Bravado is something he's mastered by now. It's an easy way to redirect people away from something he doesn't want to talk about. "What, you that lonely? That's pretty fuckin' sad."

There's a soft huff from Dream. "...Something like that."

Tommy’s eyes narrow a little at how tired he sounds.

Before he can question it, though, a twig snaps.

His head swivels in that direction, sword already in hand to deal with whatever it is–

And then the next thing he knows he’s blinking his eyes open in the bed tucked into the corner of the ‘room’ right above Pogtopia.

It's the most well rested he's felt in what feels like forever, and when he turns to look to the side...Dream is there. He's dragged a chest over to sit on and is using the wall as support while he dozes a little. Had he brought him back and stayed here the whole time?

Tommy tamps down the rush of warmth in his chest at the idea.

The long, exhausting days of gathering resources and trying to appease Wil, paired with fitful sleep and constant alertness must have finally caught up with him.

He curses himself for not being strong enough to go longer.

Dream’s head abruptly snaps up, his mask angling towards the entrance of Pogtopia proper. Tommy hadn’t even heard anything before Dream had reacted– which leads him to suspect Dream both has good hearing and is the lightest of sleepers.

That’s not what he focuses on, though; he’s too busy scrambling to sit upright. Unease prickles at his skin when Wilbur gets to the top.

His brother looks at the two of them, eyes narrowing and a scowl twisting his lips. "I see you finally woke up, Sleeping Beauty. Good; we have a lot to discuss."

Anxiety flutters in his chest as Wilbur reaches over and grabs his arm hard enough that Tommy is fairly sure it'll bruise. He's yanked to his feet, Dream getting up at the same time. Wilbur sneers slightly as he starts dragging Tommy back down into Pogtopia.

He's dreading the conversation– the yelling and accusations of betrayal and possibly being shoved in the closet again.

(He hates the closet and its barely concealed obsidian walls, but Wilbur is always calmer, nicer afterwards–)

His breathing picks up, even if he’s not quite fighting being pulled into the ravine.

They get a few steps down and then, to both of their surprise, Dream starts following. Wilbur narrows his eyes for just a second before stretching his lips into a too-wide smile and yanking Tommy a little closer to him. "You're dismissed, Dream. He’s fine, as you can see, and we really do need to talk--"

Dream interrupts him. "I'm not going to force my protege to explain this by himself." The grip on Tommy’s arm tightens to the point of pain, not that his brother notices. He’s too busy snarling, "You're not going to be his fucking teacher, he doesn't need--"

Once again, the admin cuts him off. He grabs Wilbur's wrist hard enough that he's forced to release Tommy; the teen automatically and unconsciously takes a step back towards Dream.

The man sighs in irritation, letting go of Wilbur’s wrist. "That's really not for you to decide, Soot. You're getting my help because Tommy said he would give anything to help you get your country back. I can see that he has the makings of something great...but he won't get there floundering on his own. He needs actual guidance, not just the occasional, halfhearted lesson you can be bothered to give him."

Fury twists Wilbur's expression. "So, what, you’re just going to take him away? Make him abandon me?!" "He said he needed to stay here for you, and I was fine with that. Now, though? I'm questioning if that's a good idea."

Dream advances into Wilbur's personal space, subtly pushing Tommy behind him. He can’t do anything but stand there, speechless from how wrong-footed he feels in this situation.

Dream– fucking Dream, the guy who nearly beat the unbeatable Technoblade in a duel, is arguing against Tommy’s own brother that he wants to teach him.

It won’t last, obviously. Tommy is unteachable, and Dream is a busy man. He’ll eventually realize his mistake and things will go back to how they’ve always been.

But the price of that miscalculation will be that Dream has to help them get L’manburg back.

The admin tells Wilbur, "You have my assistance until your country is in your hands again. Your brother did that; he single handedly secured a powerful ally who, when offered anything, decided to take him under his wing and teach him. He’s not even leaving Pogtopia! We agreed that he would stay here. You have lost nothing. So what part of this is so unbearable for you?"

Tommy’s eyes are wide as he stares at Dream’s back. He could probably kill him like this, he realizes with a jolt. Dream showed him his back for the sole purpose of deflecting Wilbur's anger.

It's hard not to be warmed by the feeling of someone really, truly powerful actually defending him. It's nice, and it almost makes him feel...safe.

His attention snaps back to the conversation, with Wilbur snarling and bristling at his mentor. "He doesn't need a teacher, he's plenty capable already!" "That doesn't mean he can't learn more, become more. You can't even imagine what he could be capable of--" "As your fun little puppet, right?! Pull him along on your fucking strings just to get to me--"

Dream’s voice gets colder as he yet again cuts him off. "Don’t flatter yourself. He agreed to my terms so I'd be your ally. Aside from that, you are irrelevant."

Tommy finally collects himself enough to put a hand on Dream’s shoulder. "S' alright. I don't need you to fuckin’ defend me," he says, even if his heart remains warm that he had bothered to do so. He can’t remember the last time someone really stood up for him like this. Well– at least someone who could fight back if they needed to.

"You can go; s’ just a fuckin’ family chat, yeah? I can handle it myself." Anxiety makes his skin crawl, but he grins at the admin anyway. He’s stared at for a long moment. Finally, Dream sighs. "...Alright. Meet me right outside in two days. Have a good night, Tommy." His hand rests on Tommy’s hair for just a moment; Tommy is unable to resist leaning into the touch a little.

It's gone all too soon, Dream stepping away. Tommy says belatedly, "You have a good night too, I fuckin' guess. I'll see you then." Dream raises a hand in farewell as he exits the ravine; the sound of the entrance being blocked off follows shortly after.

Cold fear twists in his gut as Wilbur grabs his arm. "What the fuck was that?" The sharp question makes Tommy’s eyes go wide. "Wha-- I don’t get what you--" "He fucking pet you like a dog and you just let him?"

The ex-president sneers and starts dragging him in a direction he knows all too well. Tommy stiffens and tries to pull away, but the grip only gets tighter. "If you want to be a fucking dog, then you should be put in a kennel," Wilbur says as he throws Tommy into the familiar closet.

He scrambles to his feet to try and bolt, but the way is blocked by Wilbur. "No, no, none of that. Oh! And we can't let you keep this." Wilbur yanks Tommy’s communicator from his pocket, making his panic spike. "You can't just--!"

"Dogs don't need coms, Tommy. Until you remember that Dream is our enemy, you can do without it. You might try something stupid. I'll keep it safe, don't worry." Wilbur shoves him away again and the iron door clicks shut.

The “room” is pitch black, cold, and as he knows from experience, inescapable. He’s trapped until Wilbur decides to let him out.

Chapter Text

As he later learns, it takes five days for the door to open again. Tommy can't even open his eyes to try and see who it is. He hears quiet cursing, and then he's being scooped up and carried out.

He can't really understand what's being said, but the voice is kind and soothing. He presses his face into the warm chest, his body finally relaxing when he smells freedom and safety.

He slips unconscious again, entirely unaware of the storm that he and he alone stands in the eye of.

"What the fuck is wrong with you." Dream’s voice is cold and absolutely furious as he holds the teen in his arms. His hands are raw and bloody, his hair matted with blood, and he looks like he hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since Dream left.

He's regretting that he did so, regardless of if that was that Tommy wanted or not.

Wilbur looks unrepentant. "He’s fine. I was teaching him a lesson--" "You could have killed him! Fucking Prime, Soot– what part of this looks fine to you?!"

Dream hears a quiet whimper and looks down to see Tommy trying to press himself closer to him. Dream holds him tighter, feeling the shivers racking his body.

He turns his attention to Techno, who looks more than a little guilty. "Give me his com. We're leaving." Techno seems surprised at the demand, his brow furrowing. "Why would I have his com?"

Dream looks back at Wilbur, who still doesn't look like he grasps the severity of what he's done. "He must have lost it," the ex-president offers, examining his nails as though he’s entirely unbothered; maybe he is. "A shame, that."

Dream shifts the too-light Tommy slightly so he can pull out his own com. He sends a message and hears it buzz from Wilbur's pocket. "Lost it, huh?" The admin's tone is flat as he stows his device away again. "Hand it over. You won’t like it if I have to take it by force."

Wilbur scoffs. "He still hasn't shown that he deserves it. He can--" "This is your last warning. Give me the fucking com." Wilbur sneers at him. "What, will you beat me up for it? Ooh, big bad Dream, kicking a guy when he's already down--"

Dream goes to Techno and gently deposits Tommy into his arms. The piglin hybrid accepts the too-slight weight of his little brother with a flicker of surprise. His eyes reflect regret and unease. Now that Dream’s hands are free, he darts forward and slams Wilbur into the wall by his throat.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the battered, bright red com that he knows is Tommy’s. Tone low and threatening he says, "The only reason I'm not immediately kicking you out of my server is because I won't do that while Tommy can't give any input. As soon as he's coherent, I'm going to talk to him about it. Get your affairs in order, Soot."

He releases the ex-president and goes back to Tommy. He carefully stows his com back in the pocket of its rightful owner and then takes him back from Techno. Neither of them say anything, but the way that Tommy immediately shifts to press his face into Dream’s hoodie again speaks volumes. The admin leaves, then, taking his student back to the house he shares with his friends.

Both of them are horrified at the state Tommy is in. Bad is called over to help figure out how best to treat him. "He's severely dehydrated," the demon says, looking up at his friend. Dream sits in a chair next to the head of the bed– his own, actually– and is gently running his hand through Tommy’s hair. Blood and knots mat the golden mop, but Dream is ever so carefully detangling it with his fingers.

Dream has taken his mask off, but it’s hard to read his expression regardless. "I should have pushed more– or at least gone looking sooner," he says quietly, guilt dripping from every word.

Bad places a hand on his shoulder and smiles softly. "Well, you got him out in the end. He’s tough, he'll pull through. Right now we need to get him fluids and have some broth and bread ready for when he wakes up. He'll be hungry, but he won't be able to handle anything too heavy."

Dream nods absently, still staring at the teen. He’s not sure when his subconscious decided Tommy is one of his people, but the sight of him in that tiny stone room had made him angry like he had been when L’manburg had first been created.

He barely even notices when Bad leaves; he’s too busy watching over Tommy. He feels like if he lets him out of his sight, he'll be gone forever.

It takes a few days for Tommy to really wake up. He halfway stirs occasionally for food, but most of the time he remains unconscious. Bad started him on an IV to get fluids in him, which does seem to be helping.

Dream barely ever leaves his side. He's sure rumors are swirling around the server by now, courtesy of Wilbur. He doesn't care– his priority right now is making sure his student is okay. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t had a single lesson, not to Dream. He’s still someone under his protection, and on learning that fact Wilbur immediately turned and hurt him.

Fury rolls in his gut at the memory of the closet and how little care Wilbur had shown when he had seen the state Tommy was in. Techno, at least, hadn’t even realized he was missing. That was a problem in and of itself– but at least his rival-friend wouldn’t have just stood by and let that happen if he had known.

Still, the disregard from both of them made Dream look back and question a lot of things about Tommy.

He snaps to attention when the teen stirs with an unhappy whine rising from his throat. Dream gently puts his hand back on his head, relieved when it seems to soothe him. “You need to eat,” he says quietly, watching as Tommy’s brow furrows in confusion.

With a few heavy blinks, he manages to open his eyes just a little. “...Dream..? What…” He sounds dazed, but relief floods through the admin that he’s more aware than he had been any other time he’s been awake. “You never showed up, so I got worried. I’m pretty sure you were left in that closet–” he doesn’t miss the slight hitch in Tommy’s breath at the word, “--for five days. I brought you back here three days ago. It was…you looked bad.”

He sees when Tommy realizes that he’s not in his bed in Pogtopia, he’s in a room never seen before. Not only that, but it's pretty obviously Dream’s. Said man still has his mask off, and is staring at him with obvious worry.

“...Holy shit. I think I’m hallucinating,” Tommy mutters, and Dream can’t help but laugh at that. The teen watches in utter fascination as he can see the relief on the admin’s face.

His eyes are very green, he thinks to himself as he slowly pushes himself into a more seated position. They remind him of grass in sunlight; a bright but nature-y green that’s surprisingly close to the lime hoodies he wears.

Yeah, he’s definitely off if he’s getting so caught up in the color of Dream’s eyes. Then again, everyone knows how secretive he is about his face. “No, no…this is real,” Dream assures him, still smiling ever so slightly.

Even if he’s sort of dreading the answer, Tommy needs to know it. He asks hesitantly, “So…why did you…?” Dream’s smile fades. “...Tommy, I don’t think you really…” He sighs, trying to put it into words. The way Tommy can see his brow furrow slightly is weirdly fascinating. “...You agreed to be my student. The second you did that, you were put under my protection. Wilbur immediately turned around and hurt you despite knowing that fact. He’s basically declared a second war against me with far more personal stakes.”

Tommy stares at him. He sounds doubtful as he asks, “...So you’re both fuckin’...fighting over me?” Dream shrugs a little. “Pretty much. I’m honestly trying to find a reason to not just kick him from my server; he was…” He struggles to not let the absolute rage he feels towards the other man overtake his expression. It’s with visible effort that he shoves it down, eyes closing for a long moment as he exhales slowly.

When he opens them again he says, “I only waited to decide until you were awake. I know you care about him, that he's your brother, but…he’s gone too far this time. Someone who can do this to his family and not even care isn’t someone I want to have in my server.”

Unease makes Tommy’s shoulders curl inwards. “He’s…going through–” Dream cuts into the tentative excuse, though not unkindly. “Nothing excuses this, Tommy. And if he can do that to his little brother, who knows what he’ll do to others? I don’t want to take the risk.”

It’s too much to grapple with, especially when he’s only just woken up. He stares down at his bandaged hands, shaking his head slightly. He doesn’t want to be the one to pull the trigger on that, but at the same time…Dream has a point.

The admin sighs softly. “...Okay. We can talk about that later. For now, you need to eat." To Tommy’s surprise, a thermos of soup and a loaf of bread are pulled from the admin’s inventory. He hands both over, and then offers a straw.

Tommy opens his mouth to make a quip, but then the smell of bread hits him. He rips a chunk of the loaf off with his teeth and can barely suppress a groan at how good it tastes.

Dream seems a little amused as the rest of the loaf is nearly inhaled. "Bad stress-bakes," he says conspiratorially. Another loaf is offered and eagerly accepted. "I would have helped, but I'm not allowed in the kitchen– I just get in the way." That, and he wasn't going to leave Tommy’s side unless he had to.

Tommy snorts at that and opens the thermos. He shoves the straw in, takes a sip, and his eyes go wide. "Holy fuckin'--was this one him, too?!" Dream laughs, "No, that one was George." Tommy’s brow furrows. "So...you got Gogy to make soup?"

The for me isn't said, but it’s implied heavily enough that it doesn't have to be. "Nah, he volunteered. He, uh...needed a reason to not go and deck Wilbur," Dream admits. Tommy frowns, the grip on the thermos tightening as he sips more from it.

Dream catches the hint. "You should probably tell Tubbo that you're okay. He’s been worried." Worried and not shy about making very blatant threats towards Dream, if it turned out that Tommy really was being held captive or had been hurt by him.

Tommy winces at the reminder of his com being gone. "Uh, I might need to borrow your com, then." "You have yours. It wasn’t hard to guess it had been taken." Dream pauses and adds, "...I did mute Wilbur, but that's it. He refused to stop trying to make calls."

Tommy shoves the loaf in his mouth and seems surprised to find that his com is, indeed, in his pocket. Dream silently offers a hand for the thermos so he can tap out an answer to the string of messages he was left with.

There's almost immediately a voice call request. "You can message me when you want me to come back," Dream says. He sets the thermos down on the nightstand, grabs his mask, and exits the room. Tommy has to stop himself from staring at the door and instead answers the call.

"Tommy?! Oh Prime, are you– I've been so worried! Wait, are– is anyone else there?" "Hullo to you too, Tubso. No, but, holy fuckin' shit; this is the weirdest thing. Dream is actually being...really nice. I'm--"

Tubbo cuts him off, asking in a rush, "So he wasn’t– did you actually get– oh man, nobody knows what to believe!" Tommy’s brow furrows again. "...Ey?" "Tommy, nobody but Wilbur, the Dream Team and Bad have seen you in over a week! Wilbur says you were kidnapped and are being held hostage, Dream says you're his student now and Wilbur punished you for that, and it’s really getting ugly--"

Fear coils in Tommy’s gut. "Wilbur said what?" Tubbo pauses, likely because that fear leaked into Tommy’s voice. "He...says you were kidnapped, Bossman. He’s been trying to get people to rally and storm the Dream Team’s base to rescue you. Is that what actually…?"

Tommy swallows, breathing hitching a bit. Memories of mind numbing darkness eat at him, but he shoves them away. "N-no. I'm...Tubbo, I'm in Dream’s room." There's a long pause, and then, "...and he’s not there?" "Nope. He told me to message you, then left when you called. Door's cracked, but uh...Tubbo?" "Yeah?" "I saw his face."

The pause is longer before Tubbo asks slowly, "...Like...just a few seconds…?" "No. I woke up n’ he just– didn't have the fuckin’ mask on. Didn't even look at it until he left, either."

"...So he wasn't lying? You really are his...student, then?" Tommy takes a deep breath, and nods to himself a few times. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I fuckin’ am. It sounds fuckin’ crazy, but he’s...not that bad. He, uh...basically said that Wil started a second war with, uh, way more personal stakes when– when he--"

He cuts himself off with a shaky inhale. Tubbo says, "You don't have to say it." Tommy slumps a little in relief. "...Bad makes really fuckin’ good bread. N’ Gogy makes a real good soup," he says, taking another bite of the bread in question. "They cooked for you?" "S’ what I was told! Just woke up– not even fifteen fuckin’ minutes ago– so I just have what Dream said. It's...weird.”

Tubbo starts to say something else, but is cut off by the sound of yelling. Tubbo’s voice is a lot quieter as he says frantically, “Shit–Tommy, I gotta go, but I’ll tell everyone that you’re fine." The sound of glass smashing makes Tubbo’s voice crack a little. "I’ll talk to you soon– I’ll be right there, Sir!”

The call ends, leaving Tommy staring blankly at the bright red com in his hand. A plan starts to form as he taps out a message to Dream.

Chapter Text

The admin still hasn’t put his mask back on when he returns, though he keeps it in his hand. He’s watching Tommy with a curious, though clearly worried expression. The teen stares back, chin lifted a little. The offer he’s made is one he couldn’t have imagined making even a day ago– well, a few days ago technically– but it’s clearly being considered.

“...Are you sure,” Dream asks, head tilting to the side ever so slightly. “Because I won’t undo this if you change your mind later.”

Memories of darkness and fear flash through Tommy’s mind for a long moment. He takes a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says, chin lifting further as he meets the admin’s gaze with as much confidence as he can muster. “I don’t fuckin’…want anyone else to get hurt. S’ the best option.”

Dream stares at him, seeming to weigh the sincerity of those words. “Alright then,” he says, nodding once in agreement. “Both Schlatt and Wilbur will be banned. They’ll get twelve hours to go willingly before the ban takes effect. I’ll need you to make an appearance, just so people stop trying to break in to 'rescue' you.”

Regret squeezes Tommy’s heart, even if he truly does believe that this is the best option. Wilbur isn’t well and being here isn’t helping him. Then there’s Schlatt, who’s hurting everyone around him. Tommy loves his older brother– or at least, who he used to be– but he loves Tubbo more. He’s not going to let his best friend get hurt if he can stop it.

Tommy nods, taking another deep breath. He can do this. It’s not the end of the world.

Scratch that, it’s definitely the end of the world.

He can barely manage to stand, let alone make it to the back door. It feels like his legs are going to give the entire way there, not to mention the way the room tilts dangerously. He only reluctantly lets Dream help him walk– which the rest of the group had protested, but Tommy had been firm. It's bad enough that he's relying on Dream so heavily; he can’t handle the rest of them seeing him so weak.

Now he’s sitting on a chair on the back porch (which he didn’t even realize the house had) as the whole server shows up to see that he’s not being held hostage. Sapnap, George, Bad, and Dream are fanned out behind him, and it’s all Tommy can do not to get to his feet to feel less vulnerable.

Logically, he knows that it would be really stupid to help him only to, say, jam a knife in his back. If nothing else he can trust that there’s no point in turning on him right now.

That, and he…sort of wants to trust them. For three people he’s fought a war against (and also Bad), they’ve been startlingly kind to him. Everything from George making him soup (probably the best soup he’s ever had, too) to Bad carefully making sure his hands healed correctly, to Sapnap seeing his mounting anxiety and deciding that they all needed to play a card game (which devolved into half-joking arguments about cheating) was…nice.

Really weird, but still nice in a way that reminded Tommy of the early days of L’manburg. Songs played on guitars and laughter over a campfire, of friends and family and belonging.

It hadn’t lasted, of course; it never did. For him, home was as elusive as moonlight– there, without a doubt, but always impossible for him to grasp. Others seemed to drape themselves in moonbeams, but not Tommy. Every time he thought that this time, surely, he had finally had a hold of it…he opened his hands to find it missing.

So it’s startling to feel faint flickers of that same warmth from the people he had, not long ago, considered his mortal enemies.

Maybe he’s just desperate, at this point. Desperate and…tired. He wants so badly for it to be real, for it not to be some stupid ploy or trick or trap.

It doesn’t help that he’s watching as everyone stands in the yard, including Schlatt. Quackity stands at his side, the two in the middle of a hushed conversation. Tommy doesn’t doubt that at least one person would be aiming weapons at him if it weren’t for the four people at his back. Five, if you count Punz– the mercenary is positioned facing the crowd as well, but in front and to the left of Tommy.

The teen swallows as Wilbur, ever dramatic, arrives with the last of the server.

“Tommy! Are you okay, what did they do to you?!” He does seem worried, and Tommy would have believed it just a month ago.

Prime, it’s overwhelming to realize how fast things had gone downhill. Just two months ago, everything was peaceful. It’s nothing– barely any time at all.

Now, though? Fear constricts Tommy’s throat, and he flinches away from his brother before he can stop himself. He can tell immediately that several people notice that; the creeper hybrid he’s seen once or twice– Sam?– straightens. Niki’s brow furrows slightly, too, as she glances from the not-quite guards behind Tommy to Wilbur and then back to Tommy himself.

After just a beat to give Tommy a chance to speak, Dream takes a step forward to stand ever so slightly in front of him. He’s got a chill to his tone as he says, “Don’t pretend you don’t know what happened, Soot. Or that there wasn’t a witness.”

His mask tilts towards Techno, who folds his arms over his chest and looks away. “You know what I told you is true. And I’ll stand by what I promised.”

There’s a low murmur from the crowd. It takes a moment or two, but then Techno finally sighs. He doesn’t look at Wilbur or Dream as he says, “...Tommy…was in bad shape. When he left Pogtopia. It…Dream didn’t do–” “Techno,” Wilbur hisses, eyes flashing in a way that makes Tommy shrink against the back of the chair. The teen’s breathing turns shaky as his older brother, his hero, (his tormentor) tells his technically-brother, “Think about what you’re–”

Techno takes a deep breath and looks at Wilbur. “This place isn’t good for you.” Wilbur laughs darkly, stepping back. “So it’s betrayal, then? Some brother you are–” Techno takes a step forward, putting his hand on Wilbur’s arm. “We’re going home. D– Phil is waiting for us already. We’ll…we’ll be there.”

Wilbur rears back like he’s been stuck. “You can’t just–” “No,” Dream agrees. His axe is already in his hand, just in case. “But I can. I already warned you to get your affairs in order, Soot. You have until midnight to get out of my server willingly or you’ll go by force. You won’t be coming back.”

Silence falls over the crowd for several moments, before loud, delighted laughter starts to come from Schlatt. “You fucking– you idiot! You pissed off the admin enough to get banned?! That makes things–” “He’s not alone. You’re going too.”

Schlatt stills, his amusement fading in an instant. His eyes thin at Dream. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. You and Wilbur Soot are both to leave by midnight tonight, or you’ll be leaving by force.”

“And what right do you have to do that?!” Quackity glares from Schlatt’s side, his small wings puffed up in sheer outrage. Dream tilts his head to the side, and then answers, “This is my server. They were both given a chance– multiple chances, actually– and they both wasted all of them. I’ve reached my limit.”

The duck hybrid snaps back, “And what’s going to stop you from just– banning anyone who pisses you off?!” Dream shrugs. “Technically? Nothing. If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to tolerate–”

“What is it that Wilbur did that made you decide to do this?” Niki’s question is delivered with a raised chin, the defiance that has made her a thorn in Schlatt’s side shining in her eyes. Dream tilts his mask towards Tommy ever so slightly– and said teen can see the very edge of his frown, if he looks closely.

Tommy swallows and starts, “I…had–uh, Wilbur– fuck!” He stops, squeezes his eyes shut, and takes a deep breath. As he releases it, he forces his body to relax. “I made a fuckin’ deal with Dream. I asked for him to help us– me n’ Wil– get L’manburg back. I told him I’d do anything. Dream, uh…said he wanted to teach me. Still don’t fuckin’-- understand why he’d…yeah. But when I got back, Wil…didn’t like it. He was– mad. Real mad. I mean, Dream kinda was the guy we were fuckin’ fighting a war against not that long ago, so it makes sense, but it was still…”

He stops again, shoulders hunching. He can’t stand to look at Wilbur, to see the rage that’s practically radiating from him.

Dream picks up from there. “When Tommy agreed to be my student, he was put under my protection. Wilbur immediately hurt him for that. He confiscated his com, too. Both of those are too fucking far.”

Niki looks at Tommy. For a moment she looks conflicted, torn between fondness for him and her loyalty to his older brother.

Then she glances at Wilbur and seems to regain her resolve. “And why should we believe you? Wilbur wouldn’t do that. He’s– Tommy is his little brother. Maybe you just misunderstood–”

“You don’t need to nurse someone back to health after a misunderstanding,” Sapnap says in a low tone. Dream nods. “You, like everyone else, are free to leave if you don’t like how I run my server. It’s not up for discussion, it’s not going to change. Wilbur and Schlatt will leave by midnight, and it’s up to them if that’s by being kicked or not.”

Niki narrows her eyes. “Tommy seems fine to me.” “He’s not,” Bad says, speaking up for the first time. He gives Tommy a small smile as he steps forward to stand at his side. “He was unconscious until a few hours ago. He was…” his smile fades entirely, his tail curling around a leg as he clears his throat a little. “It wasn’t pretty.”

“Wilbur wouldn’t do anything serious to him. Maybe he did it to–”

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Sapnap snarls, taking several strides to stand in front of her. “How the hell are you so blind, that you can’t even– do you have any idea how–” He clenches his teeth, shaking his head a few times.

Niki steps forward too, her sword in hand and eyes like flint. “It’s suspicious that none of you will say what happened. Awfully convenient.”

“Some of us,” George says loudly, “have at least an ounce of decency. It’s not our story to tell. Not unless we’re allowed to.” He tilts his head towards Tommy, whose eyes widen a little.

That’s– surprisingly nice of them. Even if he doesn’t want to– he can’t.

He can’t, and his arms fold around himself to try and hide the way his hands shake at even the idea of hearing about it.

Dream catches the motion, of course. He turns his full attention to Tommy and tells him quietly, “They might not believe it, even if we do tell them. You don’t have to stay, either way. Want to go back inside with Tubbo?”

The offer makes Tommy’s breath catch. His gaze turns to his best friend, who has been watching the entire thing with wide eyes.

Their eyes lock, and Tommy just gives a little nod. He can’t bring himself to say anything, not around the way his throat feels closed at the hint of his own memories.

“Okay,” Dream says, and then turns back to the crowd. “Tubbo. You two head inside.” The teen’s jaw almost drops.

Schlatt hisses at him, “Don’t you dare–” “Go to hell,” Tubbo tells him, yanking his tie off as he strides forward. It’s thrown carelessly to the ground as he passes Sapnap, then Punz, and finally stands in front of his friend.

Tommy has to blink back tears as Tubbo wraps him in a massive hug. “Missed you, bossman,” his best friend tells him. Tommy takes a split second before he clings to him, pressing his face into his shoulder. “Clingy bitch,” he mumbles, but it’s clear he returns the sentiment.

They stay like that for a moment, before Tommy clears his throat and pulls back. “I, uh– kinda need fuckin’-- legs aren’t too steady, y’know? Nerves n’ shit,” he admits, reluctantly, brushing the actual issue aside. Tubbo grins and offers his shoulder. “Who’s clingy now?”

The blond rolls his eyes, even as he leans his weight onto his friend. For a split second, Tubbo’s eyes narrow. He quickly smooths the worry away, though, especially as Tommy retorts, “Still you. Bitch.” “Mmm, no, I’m pretty sure it’s you,” Tubbo teases back as he helps him inside.

Once the door shuts, Tommy sags further against him. Tubbo’s worry only grows as he helps him to the couch. They both sit down, side by side like they would be on the bench. Tommy can see the game of Uno that he, the Dream Team, Bad, and Punz had started to play earlier.

The game got derailed by accusations of cheating aimed first at Dream, who vehemently denied them, and then at George, who threw his cards down and said that he almost got away with it.

It had amazed Tommy that it had come very close to devolving into a three-way brawl– Punz is much more of a chaotic force than Tommy had realized.

Tubbo starts, “Tommy…” “S’ not a– none of it was made up,” Tommy interrupts, swallowing thickly. He can’t quite look Tubbo in the eye as he says it, his eyes falling back to the discarded game. His hands go to fiddle with the pocket seam of the bright red hoodie that he’s almost drowning in. It’s one of Dream’s, dyed red to suit Tommy’s superior taste.

Tubbo watches him for a long moment, and then nods a few times. “Okay. If you trust them, I will too.”

Tommy looks up, eyes widening a little. He’s beyond relieved that he won’t have to try and convince Tubbo the Dream Team are at least semi-trustworthy.

He gives a wide grin and leans his too-light weight ever so slightly against him. “Gonna be fuckin’ pog,” he says, shoving his worry down and locking it away. “Dream was kinda weird when he made the fuckin’ offer– not fuckin’ shady, just…I dunno. He said it wasn’t just fighting. Told me I’d learn everything. No fuckin’ clue what that means, but he said it– like it mattered.”

The brunet gives a soft hum. “Guess you’re going to learn the secret techniques to let you beat everyone up–” “Everyone will fuckin’ cower before my might,” Tommy interrupts gleefully.

A bright laugh bubbles up from Tubbo, and this– if nothing else– has remained the one thread of moonlight he has a hold of.

It doesn’t matter that the rest of the world has shifted on its axis, because his best friend is at his side again.

Tubbo is his home, and Tommy won’t let that change any time soon.

Chapter Text

After a certain point it becomes obvious that there’s no point in letting the meeting go on. A decent chunk of the server has already left; those that remain are shouting accusations at each other and just shouting in general.

Dream gives a loud, sharp whistle to get everyone’s attention. It causes a brief lull in the torrent of petty verbal jabs that he uses to tell them, “Alright, since it’s clear we’re not getting anywhere– the meeting is dismissed. Go home.”

Soot opens his mouth to argue, but Techno puts a hand on his shoulder. Dream takes one step down the short stairs and adjusts his grip on the axe in his hand.

For all his cruelty, Wilbur also seems to be smart enough to realize that he can’t win the fight that Dream is unsubtly threatening. Not when Techno has sided against his own brother.

Or, at least, he’s prioritizing Tommy's safety over Wilbur’s feelings. Dream is fully aware that as much as Soot might disagree, this is the only real option Techno is able to take.

The Techno he knows is awkward as hell, but he’s not evil. His reaction to Tommy’s condition had been genuine, unmistakable horror.

For all that he’s been unaware of what had been going on under his nose, now that he does know, the piglin hybrid is trying to do right by his youngest brother.

Wilbur curls his lip in a wordless snarl and turns on his heel to dramatically stalk away– likely to gather what few things that had been smuggled into Pogtopia.

Maybe whatever is left can be thrown into an extremely cathartic pyre. Dream could even roast marshmallows over it.

Actually, wait. Maybe whatever's wrong with the bastard is contagious. And then there’s the seemingly omnipresent grime that clings to nearly everything in Pogtopia...

He silently ponders how likely it is that cooking anything in the smoldering echoes of Soot's belongings could result in food poisoning.

The stragglers finally finish leaving. Once the rest of the server have left Dream's line of sight, Punz offers a two-finger salute and goes back to their base as well.

A beat or two passes, and then Dream gives a long, tired sigh.

“What a fucking trainwreck,” he mutters, carefully bringing a hand under his mask to rub at his eyes. His head throbs dully from the anger that’s been simmering just under the surface ever since he found Tommy.

There’s a halfhearted mumble of, “Language,” from Bad. Sapnap smacks his shoulder and says, “C’mon, dude, really? Now?”

The demon’s head hangs a little and his tail droops. “Sorry. It’s just a habit,” he offers meekly.

Dream gives a soft exhale of amusement. It's a bit soothing to hear the familiar scold– not that he'd admit it out loud. At least that's one thing that hasn't changed. “I know, I know.”

After another moment, George asks, “So…what’s the plan?” The question makes Dream frown, because he’s not sure what exactly his friend means. “...Plan with…?”

Even with the goggles on, Dream can tell that he’s being given an eye roll. “Tommy, duh. You aren’t seriously going to teach him, are you? So, c’mon, spill, what is it you’re trying to do here?”

A quick glance at Sapnap and Bad show him that they’re wondering the same thing.

It hadn’t even occurred to him how this would look to them. After all, Dream did fight a war against Tommy barely a few months ago.

The teen had been ferocious and almost ruthless in combat. Even at the time, Dream had had to begrudgingly concede at least a little respect for that. And just a tiny bit more for how he had been the one to lead every charge.

Why else would Dream have needed to go through the trouble of making Eret a turncoat? Soot certainly hadn’t been an actual threat. Tubbo’s skill was passable, yes, but…Tommy had been the real problem.

Dream rolls the question over in his mind, trying to figure out how to phrase his answer.

“...I think,” he starts, slowly, “he could be something special. He just needs help to get there.”

Sapnap and George look at each other, and then make similarly disbelieving faces at him. George protests, “...He’s Tommy.”

Dream rolls his eyes. “So I noticed.” “Dude, he put his discs as collateral for the duel,” Sapnap adds, seeming more than a little confused.

Before Dream can point out that he had agreed to those terms– and that Tommy had doubled down so that his brother’s country could be given legitimacy– Bad gives a little huff.

“Well, if Dream wants to teach him, then that’s good. The muffin needs someone who’s looking out for him.” He pauses, and then amends, “Not that Tubbo doesn’t, but– you know what I mean.”

Dream nods his head. “Thank you. Tommy just needs a guiding hand. He has potential–” With even more emphasis, George interrupts, “Potential to set the whole server on fire, maybe!”

That’s a little dramatic. Sure, Tommy caused some mayhem, but it hadn’t been anything that bad. And with someone to really teach him what he needs to know…

“I want to do this,” he tells his friends. He knows they can hear the note of finality in his voice, that this is the path he’s chosen.

Sapnap sighs, ruffling a hand through his own hair. “Yeah, yeah. If you’ve decided to do this, we can’t change your mind.” He sounds a little rueful.

They all look at George expectantly. The set to his shoulders, Dream knows from experience, means that at best he’s annoyed by Dream digging his heels in about this. His scowl is another dead giveaway that this is not the last time they’ll have this conversation.

“Fine. Whatever. Have fun with your student,” George snaps at him, storming off and away from the base.

It tugs at Dream’s heart that his friend is upset, but…this is what he needs. This is for the best, in the long run.

As he’s quietly lamenting George’s stubbornness, he sees a familiar splash of red approach.

Techno raises his hand in greeting, and then says without any preamble, “We need to chat.”

Sapnap straightens a little, but Techno adds, emphatically, “Alone.”

There’s no reason to suspect this is a trick or trap, so Dream nods in agreement. He descends the porch steps to go to his rival-friend’s side. “Of course. Just make it quick. I don’t want to leave Tommy unguarded for too long, you know?”

The piglin hybrid’s eyes shift away at the reminder of how much he’s failed his little brother. “Right. Right, he’s– he’s never been that good of a fighter, anyway.”

…What?

His mind stutters on that claim for a few moments, though he doesn’t outwardly give any sign of that. It’s definitely not true, at least in Dream’s eyes.

Tommy had damn near been a force of nature. Hell, half the reason Dream even agreed to having a winner-take-all duel was because he was starting to get worried that Tommy would eventually win through sheer spite.

So for Techno to call him ‘not that good of a fighter’ either means he judges anything below a certain level to be insignificant, or he just plain has no idea what his own brother is capable of.

Given how he had all but buried his head in the sand with Wilbur, Dream suspects it’s the latter.

Techno takes a deep breath, and says in a low voice, “I’m trustin’ you. If Tommy gets hurt…” The trailed off warning makes Dream fold his arms across his chest. “He’s already been hurt.”

The piglin hybrid releases a snort of irritation. “Yeah. By you.”

It’s a struggle to not visibly flinch at the reminder. The only hope he has– might ever have– could slip through his fingers entirely, and he would only have himself to blame for it.

Thunder rumbles off in the distance.

Techno’s ears swivel in that direction. “Man, whoever you got this server from, I think you got ripped off. Somethin’s weird with the weather here. It's been haywire all week.”

Prime, he could give a thousand responses to that. He could say anything from an outlandish lie to the truth, and they’d all sound equally insane.

So instead, he settles on shifting the topic back to what should be the focus. “You don’t have any other options. Even if you could convince Tommy to leave, we both know letting him stay around Soot is a ticking time bomb nobody can afford to let explode.”

The quiet, tired sigh and slight droop to Techno’s ears lets Dream know, yet again, that he agrees on that front.

"...Keep him safe," Techno repeats.

Dream smiles triumphantly behind his mask. "Nobody will be able to lay a finger on him," he vows.

Techno inclines his head and takes a step back. "I'll hold you to that."

Logically, Dream knows it looks suspicious as hell that his views on Tommy have changed virtually overnight.

It’s true that he had resented and disliked the teen for his role in L'manburg. He's taken two of his lives and, at the time, didn't feel as much regret for it as he should have. He was too swept up in his righteous fury to realize his anger was directed at the wrong target.

And Tommy’s ferocity had meant that Dream couldn’t afford to pull his punches. If he held back, there’s no doubt in his mind that Tommy would have taken the chance to take one or more of his lives.

But now, Dream sees the truth. The answer to his prayers, the only person who stands a chance of being like him…

It might have taken him time, but he’s finally seen the shining, splendid diamond hiding just beneath the surface. Now that he knows it’s there, he’s going to carefully unearth that precious gem from the useless rock around it.

Tommy is one of his people now. May the gods have mercy on anyone who dares to harm a single hair on his head–

Because Dream won’t.

Chapter Text

Tommy jolts awake at the sound of a distant explosion and discordant chimes, heart hammering. Shooting to his feet, his muscle memory makes him try and fail to summon his sword.

He stumbles, head swimming at the abrupt movement. His sword fails to appear in his hand, where the fuck is–

And then he remembers everything that had happened.

He fumbles with his com to read the time as his body collapses  back down on the couch.

It’s twenty minutes to midnight.

A new message pops up in the server-wide chat.

Wilbur Soot has left the server

He has a terrible feeling about the timing of that. Scrolling back up to see what had happened, he sees--

His heart stops.

JSchlatt has left the server

Technoblade has left the server

Tubbo_ blew up

Quackity blew up

Fundy blew up

ConnorEatsPants blew up

Only a few seconds pass before a second explosion, from a slightly different direction, followed by another two chimes.

The_Eret blew up

JackManifoldTV blew up

Tommy feels nauseous, his gut churning with horror and guilt.

He had known about the TnT, sort of. He had seen the supplies, but hadn't– he never thought this could be–

It doesn't matter right now, though. He has to go check on Tubbo, make sure he's okay.

What is he even thinking, of course he's not okay, he just died–

He yelps when he feels a hand on his shoulder, jerking away so hard he almost falls over.

Sapnap's grim expression greets him. He sees concern there. It's wrong– he's not the one who just– who had been–

He has no clue when he collapsed onto the floor, but he blinks and vaguely realizes that Sapnap has been replaced by Dream. His mask is shoved to the side of his head, and he's rubbing circles on Tommy’s back.

Whatever he’s saying doesn't register, just the fact that his voice is sort of comforting.

Why isn't he out there? What if someone hurts Tubbo again, takes his last life– then Tommy will be alone again, his home gone and gone and gone–

Dream suddenly grabs his face, forcing Tommy to look at him. Sight and sound snap back into focus between breaths; he can hear Dream talking in a soothing but firm tone. "George and Sapnap are getting Tubbo now. Bad went with them in case he has a rough respawn. Skeppy is here on standby to prepare anything that might be needed. I'm here because you were unresponsive and to be sure nobody else gets in, just in case. We have it under control."

For several long moments, there’s a violent war in his head between instinctual terror and desperately wanting to trust that he hasn’t made the biggest mistake of his life.

Slowly, he forces his fear aside because it's not helpful, not right now.

Dream breathes a soft sigh of relief when Tommy gives a tiny nod of understanding.

The admin lets his hands drop. "Alright. I'll help you back to my room. You're both staying in there, before you try and argue." Tommy nods again, some part of him grateful that he doesn’t have to think right now.

Once he sits down on the extra bed, it feels like he blinks and sees still frames of time. Blink, Skeppy is there. Blink, Skeppy is gone ane Dream is in front of him with a worried stare. Blink, Tubbo is there with Bad and Skeppy working to wrap his burns with bandages glittering faintly, probably from a potion. Blink, the sun is up and Dream is sitting in a chair by the door.

As he finally focuses his attention, he shifts his eyes to see that his IV was put back in. He’s not sure when that happened, but he’s glad that they made sure he wouldn’t take attention away from Tubbo.

Who, he realizes, is awake.

“...Tubs?” His voice cracks a little, dry and raspy, as he reaches over towards his friend. Tubbo gives him a weak smile and takes his hand. “Hey Bossman,” he says quietly.

Tears flood Tommy’s eyes and he muffles a sob. “I’m– if I hadn’t- this wouldn’t have if I didn't–” “You don’t get that much TnT overnight. He was planning to do this anyway,” Tubbo points out. He sounds too calm about this. “And hey– now we match. One life each.”

The tears fall, and Tommy gives a hiccuping laugh. “I don’t fuckin’– I don’t want us to match like this!" “Yeah, but I’m looking for a silver lining. Kinda important for my mental health and whatnot,” Tubbo says with a shrug. The movement makes him hiss in pain. “Death by explosion is a solid zero out of ten. Do not recommend.”

“Wherever you were when it went off, you were lucky. They’re apparently mostly surface level burns instead of there being deeper damage,” Dream says, and Tommy jerks his head up to see that the admin’s mask has tilted up slightly. He briefly wonders if Dream has been awake this entire time, before he focuses on what Dream said.

Tommy scoffs, giving his best friend’s hand a squeeze. “None of this is lucky,” he tells him. “No, not really. But you’re both alive,” Dream agrees, “And I’d say that counts for a lot.”

“...Speaking of,” Tubbo starts, slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you helping us? What are you gaining? Why did you want to teach Tommy in the first place?” Dream shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe I feel guilty he got hurt because of me.”

Tubbo hums, glancing at Tommy and then back to Dream. “But not guilty about me.” “No. It could have been a lot worse.”

Some note to Dream’s tone makes Tommy suspicious. “...What do you know,” he asks. Dread rises in his chest like bile as Dream goes quiet.

Then the admin answers, “...Soot wanted TnT. A lot of TnT. He wanted to take back the city, then blow it up while everyone was gathered to hear victory speeches.”

The idea makes Tommy’s blood run cold. “...Did he say where-- was anyone going to be–” “How do you know that?” Tubbo’s voice is sharp, demanding.

Dream tells him, “I acted interested and gave him enough materials to seem like I was helping him more than I was. He was going to hand the presidency to Tommy.”

An echo of Wilbur’s words makes Tommy’s heart sink– the promise that he’d never be president would have been seemingly taken back, and then fulfilled in the worst way possible.

“He wanted to kill me, didn’t he.”

It’s not really a question, and Tubbo squeezes his hand tightly. Dream sighs softly but confirms, “More or less. He didn’t plan to live through it, either, not that it makes it any better.”

Tommy slams his eyes shut and tries to find a reason to doubt him.

All he can think of is Wilbur’s increasingly erratic behavior, the ranting, the bruises, the closet–

He shudders, shoulders curling inwards. It’s too plausible to contest.

“That doesn’t explain why you’d help us,” Tubbo argues, “I thought you hated L’manburg–” “I have my reasons, but let’s start with I don’t want Tommy dead and that I don’t like Soot. Techno would be upset if both of his brothers died on my server, too.” “Sure could have fooled me. I mean, you did take two of Tommy’s lives–” “In a war. And things are different now,” Dream interrupts.

“Whatever you’re planning, I won’t let you hurt Tommy,” Tubbo warns. Dream sounds incredulous as he replies, “Hurt– I made sure that he didn’t die!” “Yeah, so you claim!” “I’m not talking about Soot's plans, I’m talking about how bad it was when I got Tommy out of Pogtopia. If I really wanted to hurt him, it would have been easier to do nothing. Instead, I hunted down where he was, got his com back from Soot, got him medical care, and put him in my room while he recovered! That room being this one, if you haven’t noticed. I also got his permission before banning Soot, otherwise I would have done it right away.”

Tubbo whips his head to look over at Tommy, who has been watching their back and forth with a faint buzzing in his ears. “...You agreed to let Wilbur be banned? Why?”

Tommy blinks, and realizes that he should probably answer the question. “...Negotiation. Schlatt’s a real fuckin’ wrong’un, n’ he was hurting you. Dream wanted to ban Wil, I wanted Schlatt gone. Wil wasn’t…needed to go somewhere else. This place was, uh…” He shrugs, looking away. He swallows and says softly, “He needs fuckin’ help. I wasn’t enough.”

It feels both devastating and freeing, admitting that he couldn’t help his older brother any more than by making him leave a place that could only have made him spiral further.

“Does that meet your satisfaction?” Dream’s tone is acidic in a way that makes Tommy grip Tubbo’s hand tighter. “...It still doesn’t make sense. But if that’s all true…” The words trail off, and Tubbo heaves a sigh. “Well, fuck.”

They all sit in silence for a few moments, before Tommy wonders, "...So…what now?" Dream tilts his head to the side slightly and asks back, "Immediate now or long term now?"

Tommy looks at his best friend, then back to the admin. "...What happens with L’manburg? If I was Vice and Wil is fuckin' gone…” The idea of running the place holds zero appeal to him. Yeah, it's still a place he cares about, but he saw how much his older brother deteriorated as president.

Even if he had never been perfect, he wouldn't have…if it weren’t for the stress– the war, Eret’s betrayal, the presidency, the loss of the election– then Wilbur would have never been as low as he was in Pogtopia.

It would have been fine. That has to be true.

…Right?

Unaware of the thread of doubt creeping through Tommy’s mind, Dream folds his arms over his chest. "Ah. Well, while details still need to be gone over…as far as I'm concerned? The country didn't change hands, thus the previous chain of command is still in effect. Unless he steps down, Quackity will be the new president."

That's not really the answer Tommy expected to hear. He's not sure why the idea of Quackity being in charge grates against him; he’s been mostly nice thus far.

Though, the cheering as Tommy and his older brother were forced to flee from their country still smarts.

Tubbo seems just as surprised. "So…you're not going to try and get rid of it?" "There's no point. I have more important things to focus on than trying to reclaim that place," Dream tells him.

"...Like…?" Tommy’s question is wary, because…he doesn't know what will happen. He doubts that Dream still wants to teach him, because nobody wants to teach him. Everything he's learned beyond the basics is what he's taught himself. Hell, he had to teach a fair chunk of those basics to himself anyway.

Thus it's a shock when Dream says, "Well, teaching you, obviously." Tommy stares at him, wide eyed. "...But the agreement–" "Is null and void now, yes. But my reasons for wanting to be your mentor haven't suddenly changed."

He's left reeling, because it…doesn't add up. Why would someone who didn't like him want to be his teacher? Why would he waste his time with Tommy, the guy who manages to fuck everything up one way or another?

Tommy isn’t blind, nor is he an idiot. He knows that most people don’t like him. It doesn’t help that he can’t stand to be ignored, so he gets attention however he can. Better to be hated than forgotten, as far as he’s concerned.

"But Tommy can say no," Tubbo points out warily. "At any time, he can tell me to fuck off and walk away," Dream agrees.

Then Dream’s mask moves slightly, clearly focusing on Tommy. “But do you want to say no? At least, before seeing what I can teach you.”

Before he’s even really aware that he’s doing it, Tommy tells him, “No. I want to…” he trails off, shakes his head slightly, and starts again with more conviction. “I’ll fuckin’-- see what you’re about. Not much else I can do, anyway.”

He can practically hear the smile in Dream’s voice as he says, “Good. Since you’re both…awake–” the word is faltered on, but he continues, “I’ll get food. I even promise not to poison it.”

Neither of them are able to comment on that before Dream slips out of the room, barely making any noise despite the sturdy boots he wears.

“Why would he mention poison,” Tubbo asks, clearly suspicious. “...I mean, we kinda did just fuckin’ interrogate him,” Tommy points out, “Despite him, uh…being pretty fuckin’ cooperative. We are in his room n’ whatnot.”

Tubbo seems less than pleased with that answer. “He’s being weird. Why now, what changed?” “No fuckin’ clue. Still fuckin’ processing that I know what his face looks like.” That makes Tubbo’s eyes narrow slightly. “I don’t like that, either. Too many things don’t add up.”

After a moment though, his best friend asks curiously, “...So is he…deformed? Scarred? Is it that he’s ugly?” Tommy makes a face. “Just looks like a guy, I dunno, I was kinda distracted by other shit when I fuckin’ saw it. Eyes’re bright fuckin’ green, though, s’ the only weird thing.”

His best friend blinks a few times. “...So he’s not hiding anything with it.” “Could be, fuck if I know. Maybe he’s got a shit poker face, maybe he has fuckin’ trauma or whatever– but I’d bet the biggest fuckin’ reason is the brand," Tommy theorizes. "Harder to forget a fuckin’ creepy mask n’ lime green hoodie than a normal face n’ clothes. Stands out, sells more seats, n’ then it just got to be how he’s known. If he dropped the fuckin’ mask now, people’d just move on. Making it a fuckin’ mystery why he wears the mask keeps him in people’s heads.”

“You’re right, actually.”

Both of them jump when they hear Dream’s voice, heads snapping guiltily towards the doorway. For a moment, Tommy expects some sort of rebuke for blabbing, but one doesn’t come. Instead, Dream steps into the room and offers thermoses of soup and bread that practically makes Tommy drool from the smell alone.

He tears off a chunk with his teeth and closes his eyes in bliss. “BadBoyHalo, I take back everything rude I ever fuckin’ said about you. How did you make fuckin’ bread taste so good,” he says after he washes it down with the soup.

“...Wait, Bad actually made the bread?” Tubbo stares at it, baffled, but takes a hesitant bite from the small loaf.

Then he quickly takes several more. Dream seems sort of amused by their ravenous eating, but frankly, he can go fuck himself. The admin tells them, “Yes, and George really did make the soup, too.”

Tubbo curiously opens the thermos, sniffs it, and then takes a small sip. Then he quickly drinks more, eyes wide with surprise.

Dream leans against his dresser and adds, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince him to do it again, so…enjoy it while it lasts.”

The thought makes Tommy frown a little, but, well. It’s not like he hasn’t lived off of some pretty nasty things before. Even if he had sort of been hoping would be around for longer, food that good was always going to be a temporary luxury.

This is actually the best he’s eaten in months, he realizes.

Prime, he’s sick of scraping and clawing his way to whatever meager peace he can get, only to have it ripped away with no warning.

In spite of Dream doubling down on wanting to be his mentor, Tommy feels adrift.

His brothers are gone, and neither tried to tell him goodbye.

Well, he’s not sure if he wanted to see Wilbur again. The idea of facing his anger makes him suppress a shiver of fear.

Techno, though? He had…after the meeting, Tommy had thought he would at least say something before leaving.

But, no. Bitterness crawls into his heart at how he has, yet again, been let down by his so-called family.

Well, fuck them. He doesn’t need them, not with how obviously they don’t give a shit about him. Tommy has his best friend at his side, and at least for now, Dream at his back.

Even if the latter changes– no, when it changes– Tommy will have learned a few tricks to make anyone who crosses him regret doing so.

And if nothing else, he'll always have Tubbo.

Chapter Text

To Tubbo’s credit, he seems to understand that he’s a bit…in the way.

Not that Dream has said anything, either to him or to Tommy.

He’s not an idiot. He’s seen what Tommy will do for his people, and Tubbo is nothing if not one of those. Upsetting Tubbo means upsetting Tommy, and upsetting Tommy means that Dream could end up alone again.

Fuck, though. He’s furious that Soot had taken such a petty but devastating little potshot on his way out the door.

In a way it’s Dream’s fault. He should have kept a closer eye on the bastard. He knew Soot was losing it, but this…

The only thing he could think of as he saw Tommy’s ashen face and distant eyes was that he regrets having granted that monster any mercy.

But those are thoughts better left for…pretty much never, actually. Dream doesn’t really enjoy being pissed off that he almost literally starts seeing red.

He can’t do anything but remember this costly lesson on being careful about who to trust.

Tubbo’s death scars from the explosion have healed about as much as they can. They might fade a bit more with time, but he’ll carry that reminder for the rest of his life.

Bad had finally and reluctantly agreed that he was allowed to do light work with frequent rest. He had actually told Quackity, soon-to-be-official president of New L’manburg, that if Tubbo worked himself too hard he would sic Tommy on him.

Now that would be entertaining to see.

Not entertaining enough that Dream wants his student to get pissed off enough to take revenge, of course.

There’s a reason Dream doesn’t want to piss Tommy off. If he decides he needs to do something, it will be done. No man, admin, or probably even god could get between Tommy and his goal.

Quackity is an…interesting person. Clever and too much of a silver tongue for Dream’s taste, but his options are a little limited if he doesn’t want to dissolve the country or install a new leader.

True, he could have given he position to Tommy; declared that Schlatt’s win, and by association Quackity’s claim to the seat, is null and void by the ram hybrid’s inglorious ejection from the server.

In theory, it could have been doable. But even the faintest hint of being handed control of the country had made Tommy tense up like he was facing down an angry enderman.

So Dream had quickly discarded that as a possible outcome. It works better for his goals, anyway; Tommy has so much he’lll need to learn. Even Dream would hesitate to take on that amount of work and managing a country recovering from a terrorist attack.

That’s without touching the trauma Tommy doubtlessly has tangled up with that place. He’s already sacrificed so much for his abusive older brother’s desperate attempt at relevancy; he doesn’t deserve to be saddled with the aftermath of Soot’s meltdown.

Besides, L’manburg is beneath him in a dozen ways.

No; if Tommy really is what Dream suspects he is, then he’ll have so much more than just a tiny country to call his own.

The whole server will belong to him just as much as it does to Dream.

Even if he’s not– as much as it would feel just as terrible as the first time he realized the truth about this place, he’ll still be unimaginably powerful.

For the thousandth time, he begs whatever gods might be listening that Tommy is exactly what Dream hopes he is. Please, let him be the same. Please, let it not be too late to win his trust.

And please, if he is, don’t let him decide to walk away.

His melancholy thoughts need to be set aside, though. The meeting with the not-quite president and his cabinet can finally start, now that the duck hybrid himself has gotten here.

Exactly on time. Dream suspects that had been an intentional not-quite slight.

Quackity offers him a smile with no warmth, meaningless greetings, and his hand. Dream gives equally meaningless greetings and shakes his hand. He doesn't bother to return the smile.

He’s glad for his mask at times like this. What had started as a tool to hide his too-obvious expressions during tournaments works just as well to hide his feelings outside the arena.

Before Quackity has a chance to even sit down, Dream tells him, “I expect the order to hunt and kill my student to be revoked immediately.”

The duck hybrid’s eyes narrow slightly– likely at the idea that Dream is demanding anything so bluntly. He wipes it away quickly, and says, “Dream, Dream, the meeting’s just started, no need to be hasty-”

Dream scoffs. He leans forward, hands braced on the heavy table of the White House’s meeting room. “Retract the order. Now.”

The room grows heavy with tension. Niki is all but glaring at him, Fundy’s ears are pinned back, Quackity’s expression is carefully neutral, and Tubbo–

“Why do you care so much?”

He isn’t hostile, necessarily. But definitely not friendly, either.

There are a lot of ways he could answer. Many of them might do more harm than good, especially in the long run.

Fuck knows he can’t have them realizing exactly how important Tommy is, nor why Dream has seemingly reversed his opinion overnight.

“Tommy is under my protection,” Dream tells him, though his mask is still pointed towards Quackity. “An order to harm him is as good as an order to harm me.”

He gives it just a moment to sink in, before he adds, “Fight me on this and I'll consider it an act of war.”

The implications of what that would mean for the floundering country seem to immediately be understood by Quackity.

“Of course, of course,” he says smoothly. His body language is loose and open, a good actor. But Dream is even better at tearing through acts; he can see the glint of anger in Quackity’s eyes. “I was planning on doing that anyway. But I can’t really do much, officially, until I take office.”

Somehow, Dream fucking doubts that.

Still, he sits down in his seat, satisfied by the promise. If nothing else, Tubbo being here to serve as a witness means that Quackity can’t just get out of doing this.

The goat hybrid’s expression is oddly thoughtful. Dream is sure he’s turning everything over in his mind, looking for some sort of catch or lie to it.

He can’t blame Tubbo for that. From an outside perspective, it is suspicious how quickly Dream has gone from hating Tommy to wanting to protect him.

They can all keep wondering, though. He’s not willing to tip his hand to anyone, not on something so important.

His reasons are only for him and hopefully, if Dream plays his cards right, Tommy himself.

The reconstruction progress is, in Tommy’s eyes, really fucking boring.

Sure, there’s the physical component of it; the actual placing of blocks and mining out the rubble is fine enough. Tedious, sure, but there’s something rewarding about being able to see the results of your hard work.

No, no. The worst part is all the planning.

Deciding on what to build with, where to build, how to design the interior and exterior and posterior and–

He seriously regrets demanding Dream bring him along to this meeting after a week of being kept out of the loop. The sound of Quackity’s voice droning on and on is almost literally driving him up the fucking wall.

The tone that the almost-president uses is polite on the surface, but has hidden barbs that he seems to think that Tommy isn’t smart enough to notice. It’s taking a hell of a lot of self control not to ask Quackity what the fuck he thinks he’s doing with that shit.

Dream, as the admin of the server, could by all rights just snap his fingers and dissolve the country Quackity is pouring all his energy into. Or he could remove the duck hybrid from office and install whoever the fuck he wants in his place.

Hell, he could just jerk-ass genie this shit; they want to be their own little thing? Sure, great– that part of the server is completely cut off from the rest. No cows, no crops? Too bad; should have thought of that before being a smarmy prick! Have fun trying to feed everyone with just what’s already in the borders!

So it’s a fascinatingly dumb choice to make all these snide little comments about Tommy and his mentor to their faces. Under other circumstances, Tommy might have applauded the sheer balls that takes.

Right now, though, he’s much more tempted to just punch him in his smug little face.

If Dream hadn’t told him explicitly that he needed to be civil ‘unless Dream drew a weapon’, Tommy might have actually done it. But that warning makes Tommy, no matter how reluctantly, hold himself in check.

Dream’s strange kindness hasn’t been exhausted yet. It’s better not to strain it without good reason; he needs to get whatever benefits from this inevitably short-lived period that he possibly can.

Still. For the moment, he’s stuck here, with this interminable fucking meeting. This might actually be a preview of his own personal hell.

In the future, he’s going to take Dream at his word if he says that something is going to be boring as hell and mostly pointless.

Around the fourth very deliberate intonation of the word 'amicable' (that Tommy damn well knows is barely-coded implication that any and all previous hostilities from this country were fully justified attempts to defend themselves) Tommy notices something interesting.

Or, at least, something better than listening to Quackity try and faux-politely 'disagree' about how far into the ocean the borders stretch yet again.

Every time there’s a dig at Dream or Tommy himself, Dream’s hand flexes under the table. It’s subtle but noticeable, if only because Tommy is bored out of his Prime-damned mind. He's desperate for any sort of stimuli that doesn’t make him want to do an about-face and beat his head against the nearest wall.

So, just like a man wandering the desert would with a bottle of water, Tommy latches onto that little tic.

And as he studies his mentor, other little nuances in his body language become more obvious. A slight tensing of his jaw comes just before Dream sends back a little dig of his own. He shifts his weight to the right when he’s really considering the benefits of something– but goes slightly to the left when he pushes back against a point they’ve already gone over.

How long have these tics existed? How has Tommy never noticed them before?

Maybe it’s all a test. Wilbur had done those, sometimes; attempted to catch him in a lie. If Tommy failed those tests, there was never– okay, well, rarely– an obvious punishment for it.

But Wil would pull away. Tommy would be left bereft of his brother’s presence where he should have been.

Maybe, during Pogtopia, that would have been better.

He can’t quite make himself believe it, though. The loneliness that seemed to wrap around his throat and weigh his limbs down like lead was the worst thing he'd ever experienced.

Most of the misery from that fucking closet had been from knowing he would be alone until Wil decided he’d been punished enough.

Above anything else, he hates being left alone with his thoughts. It’s too easy to spiral, too tempting to want to give in and set the thing trapped in his chest free.

He can’t do that. Not now, not when he might be able to learn something useful enough to make people tolerate him.

They won’t love him. Nobody would, aside from Tubbo; Tommy isn't stupid. He’s aware he’s not good enough to be accepted unless they’re desperate or need something from him.

But if he has something, anything, that would make people willing to stay by him despite hating him…that’s ideal.

So he’ll get as much as he can out of Dream before he’s cast aside again.

If the end is inevitable anyways, he’s damn well going to be greedy while it lasts.

Chapter Text

It’s strange, Tubbo thinks, how quickly things can change so radically.

Nine months ago, he, Tommy, and Wilbur left the relatively comfortable house that was the only real home Tubbo and Tommy had ever known. The younger two had been best friends for as long as either of them could remember.

Tommy always liked to say that his oldest memory isn’t of Phil deciding to adopt him, nor of meeting Wilbur, or anything related to his family.

No, his oldest memory is of getting pissed at Tubbo and shoving him face down in the mud. When Tubbo decided to retaliate by grabbing a handful of mud and expertly flinging it at Tommy’s face, that was– as Tommy claimed– the exact moment he knew they would be best friends forever.

For Tubbo, though, his oldest memory is a very different one. It’s of a lullaby he can’t quite make out the words to, sung in a raspy voice he knows must have once been lovely. He can’t remember what her face looked like, but he can vaguely recall how tired it always was.

He remembers the funeral, though. He remembers staring at the plain wooden casket being lowered into the ground and wondering what he was supposed to do now.

He can recall perfectly how Tommy had held his hand the entire time, his expression more serious than it had ever been before. Tommy was and is like the sun– shining and grinning so brightly it sort of hurts to look at sometimes.

But that day was the first time he saw the quieter side to his best and only friend. He hadn’t cracked any jokes, or even really smiled. Like Tubbo, he watched the casket with a solemn air that Tubbo still scarcely believes he could be capable of.

When the funeral was done and the lingering question of what would happen with and to Tubbo came up, Tommy’s hand had squeezed his so tightly it was almost painful.

“His dumb fuckin’ cousin or whatever isn’t his family,” he had protested, standing as tall as he could and voice entirely uncompromising. “If she was, she would’ve fuckin’ been here! She would’ve been around before now! We’re Tubbo’s family, Wil, not her! I’m not giving my best, only friend up to some stupid fuckin' pirate or whatever! I’ve never even fuckin’ met her!”

And that had been that. In the end, Tommy’s snarling vehemence and declaration that Tubbo was already their family had been all it took to make Wilbur relent. By that point, Wilbur had been shouldering most of the burden for his care, and with the other option being facing Tommy having only him to focus on…

Well. It was an easy choice, Wilbur claimed.

But for all Tommy’s arguments otherwise, Tubbo is only his brother. Wilbur was…

Wilbur was still a kid, himself. Barely fifteen when his dad brought home a child that was nearly a spitting image of him, dirt smudged on his face and wearing tattered, oversized clothes.

He had told Wilbur that Tommy didn’t have anyone, so they would be his family now.

In retrospect, it’s hard not to hear the resentful note that was always in Wilbur’s tone when he would recount that first meeting.

Tubbo had followed Wilbur because Tommy believed in him with his entire, too-trusting heart.

During the revolution, there had been a tense night where none of them were sure if there would be another round of explosions, or a surprise attack, or something worse. Tubbo had quietly asked Tommy, “Why do you believe in Wilbur so much?”

Tommy had tilted his head to the side, confused, and said like it was obvious, “He’s our brother. He’s one of my people.”

The conversation had been cut off when the door to the camar van opened and Fundy stumbled in, but the exchange had stuck with Tubbo.

So much so that he asked the same question in Pogtopia, voice as soft as he could possibly make it. Tommy’s answer had been the same. “He’s one of my people. He’s family,” he had said, but…

Tubbo could hear the desperation in his voice. He could hear the way that Tommy was trying to convince himself of that fact.

But Tommy is loyal. He’s loyal to a nearly comical degree, someone who would– and did– lay down his life just to cling on to some phantom trace of approval.

It’s why Wilbur being banned had come as such a shock. The surprise had only grown when Tommy admitted that he had agreed, allowed, Dream to do it.

Then he said that it was because of Schlatt. That he didn’t want Tubbo to be hurt, and if that meant Wilbur had to go…then that was that.

The aftermath of what’s been referred to as Hammertime has been messy, but New L’manburg is being rebuilt, bit by bit. They’re building the houses on stilts, and once the construction is done, they’ll divert water from the ocean to fill the crater.

It’ll be pretty. Not the same, of course, but still nice. Maybe different is what they need, anyway– a new leader, a fresh start, a chance to shake off the shadows that have clung to the country from Wilbur’s influence.

And speaking of shadows; it’s been a relief that Dream seems to be cooperative. Not that any of the cabinet really trusts him, but he’s not openly hostile and is responding to negotiations without making entirely unreasonable demands.

Oddly, his first order of business was to make sure that Tommy was officially pardoned. Before anything else, even discussing where the borders would now lay, he was most concerned about making sure Tommy wouldn’t be a target.

Tubbo had asked why. Dream had told him, simply, “I won’t cooperate with a place that has a standing bounty on my protege. If you fight me on this, I’ll consider it an act of war.”

The entire room had tensed at the threat.

After a few moments, Quackity had agreed. He had later told Tubbo that he hadn’t already done it because he didn’t have the power. How could he rescind an order from a previous president if he, himself, wasn’t president yet?

The meeting had gone on from there, several hours of back and forth over everything from what laws a non-citizen would be required to follow to trade agreements. The entire time, Tubbo had chewed on Dream’s entirely flipped priorities.

Even weeks later, he can’t understand what made him suddenly decide Tommy was worth focusing on like this. That lack of understanding makes Tubbo antsy, because he doesn’t know if it’s some sort of long term plot or if he actually does suddenly care about Tommy.

And Tommy himself is…

He’s doing well. Excellent, even– Tubbo has seen the way he’s bounced back to his usual loud, bright self. It’s a relief, despite how weird it feels to see him be like that with the people that were their mortal enemies not that long ago.

More than once, Tubbo has watched the Dream Team make a joke whose meaning flies completely over his head, but that Tommy seems to understand perfectly well. There’s no other explanation for the way he laughs uproariously, launching into his own additions and leaving Tubbo feeling a bit like an outsider.

It’s– it’s an odd feeling, that these people have a connection with his best friend, his brother, that Tubbo doesn’t get.

He’s not used to feeling like a third wheel when it comes to anything involving Tommy.

But it’s fine. Tommy needs other people in his life, and he can handle himself. He’s smart, smarter than just about anyone really gives him credit for. His keen eye and oddball, haphazard charisma have gotten them out of trouble just as often as it’s gotten them into it.

If things start going south, Tubbo trusts that Tommy will tell him.

And besides, Tubbo–Tubbo has matters of his own to focus on.

Quackity has taken him under his wing– pun not intended– and has been teaching him a fair number of things. He’s well-spoken and calm under pressure, a trait that Tubbo can’t help but admire.

Sure, there hasn’t been a real test of that calm, but Tubbo can see how the president of New L’manburg is made of sturdier stuff than Wilbur ever was.

And Fundy is happier now, too. He’s got a mind for redstone that Tubbo has found himself picking more than a few times. It’s a hobby that Tubbo has wanted to further indulge in for quite a while, but never had the time, resources, or space to do so.

Then Niki, made of a steel-laced kindness that catches you off guard if you’re unaware of it.

She’s like a big sister, in a way. She’s easily the most familiar out of any of them; an old friend of Wilbur’s who he kept in touch with and eventually met up with while he, Tubbo, and Tommy tried to find a place to call their own.

Or, well. He had thought that’s what Wilbur had wanted. That’s what he claimed he had wanted.

But Tubbo wonders, looking back, why he never seemed happy, even after the country was theirs.

Not that it really matters right now. Tubbo is doing good, Tommy is doing amazingly well, and New L’manburg will be rebuilt with a better, stronger leadership that won’t bring the place literally crashing down around them all.

Things are changing, and it’s for the better.

Chapter Text

Tommy isn't entirely sure what to think when he's asked, seemingly out of the blue, if he trusts Dream.

He blinks, his brow furrowing a little. If you had asked him all of two weeks ago, the answer would be a very loud and emphatic no paired with a hell of a lot of cursing and pointed accusations of being an idiot.

But in that span of time, Dream has been extremely patient. Whatever his plans might be, they had been derailed first by Tommy getting locked in a closet, then Tubbo being blown up. He’s given up his own room not just to Tommy but to Tubbo as well– someone who he has little reason to help beyond appeasing Tommy. He's gotten his own friends to make sure they both were able to heal as best as possible.

Tubbo had even agreed that George and Bad are surprisingly good cooks.

And the thing is– if this has all been some scheme to get back at Wilbur, then there’s no point in keeping it up now that he’s been banned. Whatever Dream is trying to do, he’s made concessions and small sacrifices over and over and almost entirely without being prompted.

Nobody with any actual power has done that for Tommy before.

So, now…he does trust him. Not fully, of course, but he’s willing to see what exactly Dream is up to.

Even if asking out of nowhere like that is suspicious as hell.

"Yeah, I guess? Why?" Dream hesitates, and then tells him, "...I want to check something. This might look a little weird, but…if I'm right…" he trails off, and catches whatever Tommy’s expression must be. "It's nothing bad. You won’t feel anything."

That makes his concern raise a notch, but all Dream does is push his wrist upwards and…wiggle his fingers?

"Told you it looks weird," his mentor laughs. Tommy startles as he realizes that his eyes are glowing. "What the fuck?!"

"Admin nonsense," is all the explanation he gets for several long minutes. Dream just flicks his fingers in the air next to where he’s staring.

Dream suddenly stops and breaks into a wide grin. "I knew it! Okay, well, not knew, but guessed because– Prime, you remind me of myself sometimes and it wasn't hard to put the pieces together–"

Tommy interrupts, frustrated at the lack of actual information, "What the fuck're you on about?"

Dream swipes in the air and his eyes immediately stop glowing. He leans forward to grab Tommy’s shoulders and tells him with a delighted laugh, "Tommy, you're an admin!"

When this fails to get the enthusiasm he clearly expected, the man's smile dims a little. "...That's not something everyone has. It's rare– at least, ones like me. Like us. I don't know if there are other kinds, but…you’re special. I'm almost positive nobody else here has that potential."

The longing in Tommy’s chest almost hurts, but…he’s scared. What if it's a mistake? What if Dream is wrong and somebody else– someone stronger, or smarter, or just not him could take his place?

He opens his mouth, but can't get any words out with the fear constricting his throat.

It's a shock when Dream’s joy fades into an almost wounded expression. "C'mon, it– it's not…being an admin isn't a bad thing! You'll be able to do things– once you've learned how, you'll be as powerful as a god," he says, nearly sounding desperate despite a forced laugh.

The part of himself that Tommy has spent most of his life trying to keep shoved in a box manages to open its prison just a crack.

The need to be something more, to guard what is his, to have a home…it all bursts through him in brilliant, horrible technicolor.

He wants it; he wants what Dream is telling him to be true. He wants to stand tall and proud with the world at his fingertips, to have something that won't leave.

"What if there's someone else, someone who isn't–" He stops himself, shoulders curling inwards slightly. He doesn’t have anything, really– just a dirt house, Tubbo, and the tenuous promise of being Dream’s student.

Dream studies him, understanding suddenly flashing in his eyes. “If they even exist, they aren’t who I decided to teach. You are.”

The box opens another notch and Tommy can almost hear the whisper from it in the back of his mind. He cares, he wants us, he needs US–

But he thought that about Phil, too. About Techno, and Wil, and…all he wants is to belong, to be with people who really, truly want him there.

He desperately wants people who light up when he enters a room instead of hiding a grimace, who care about him just as much as he cares about them– entirely, with their whole hearts and souls.

People who would stand by him no matter what.

That hungry thing tells him, this one, though, we can make him care.

He’s tried that before! It hasn’t worked, not a single fucking time! Every attempt to force others to be as loyal to him as he is to them only ends in pain and heartache.

Even Tubbo sometimes seems confused at the sheer devotion Tommy has towards things and places and people and anything that shows him a scrap of affection or gives him fleeting happiness.

All of it has vanished like smoke in his grasp. Nothing good stays, not for him. Everything and everyone is gone except for Tubbo.

And a part of him is waiting for the next shoe to drop and for Tubbo to disappear, too.

Dream sighs, his shoulders slumping. “...I want to teach you what I know about being an admin. I’ve learned the hard way, through trial and a lot of error. If…” he hesitates, something Tommy can’t identify flashing across his face for a split second, “if you decide you want to, it would be nice– to have someone to share this with. It’s a little lonely when nobody else understands.”

Tommy stares at him, uncomprehending. “...You’ve got your fuckin’-- friends n’ shit, though. You have– what, thousands of fans, people who’d all fuckin’ kill to get in here–” “And none of them could be an admin. None of them know or get some parts of– why do you think I haven’t left the server since it was made?”

The question catches him off guard. “...’Cause you wanted a break or something? I don’t fuckin–” “I can’t leave, Tommy. I can’t ever leave. The server is– it’s a part of me. I’m a part of it. I might as well be trying to walk around without a lung. I can do so much, but it’s–” Dream’s voice cracks, something vulnerable and desperate settling onto his face.

It’s distressing how the thing inside of Tommy perks up at it. It looks at someone in need, someone suffering, and sees only a way to lessen its own hunger.

This is why he learned to stuff it in a box. The occasional almost-whispers from nowhere and sudden spikes of anger are a small price to pay compared to it being free to roam around inside his head and heart as it pleased.

“They can all leave. I just–” Dream stops himself again, giving a little laugh of derision. His shoulders slump as he says softly, “I just…want to have a chance. Let me prove that you could stand at my side and that I want you to be there.”

Nothing has come close to tempting him as much as this does. It's everything he’s ever wanted on a silver platter, gift wrapped with a neat little bow. Dream is, if he’s telling the truth, offering him the very thing that the monster in his heart has screamed and thrashed and fought for. The same thing that made him desperately cling to people and places and things that all left.

Dream can’t leave. Dream is here, for better or for worse. He’s shared a secret that Tommy suspects very, very few people know about– something that could end with him dead, forever, if Tommy told anyone about it.

He’s done so to ask for Tommy to give him a chance. The mighty figure with countless people who watched his fights, who fought a war against him, and who took two of his lives is almost begging to let him prove his sincerity.

That realization is like a drug. He’s never felt as powerful as he does at this moment, with Dream pleading with him and needing something only he can give.

“Okay,” Tommy says, swallowing hard. “I– I want to learn. Teach me.”

The sheer joy on Dream’s face almost distracts him from the way that the thing inside him has thrown open its cage and has settled just under his skin. That happiness almost distracts him from the way that it nearly audibly purrs in the back of his head at the sheer leverage he has over Dream now.

He tries to ignore the way it doesn’t feel entirely like something else.

He tries to ignore the way it feels like it’s him that’s so happy.

Chapter Text

Tommy stares incredulously at Dream, who stares right back at him with an expression that says he will not be swayed.

“This is so fuckin’ stupid,” Tommy protests, and Dream holds out his hand. “Diamond.” Tommy glares at him. “What does it even– it doesn’t fuckin’ matter!” Dream’s eyebrows raise. “Two diamonds.”

Tommy snarls at him, “You said you wanted to teach me, not use me as a fuckin’ wallet!” Dream smiles a little and tells him, “It is teaching you. You have almost no self control. If you can stop yourself from swearing like a sailor, then you can do anything. Also, it’s three diamonds now.”

Rage almost visibly builds in Tommy’s chest and is vented via a scream. “How does me paying you for fuckin’ swearing help me learn restraint?!”

“You’ll get sick of having to go find resources, so you’ll stop yourself. It’s not the only thing we’ll be doing but it’s a necessary step.” The smile Dream has grows into a grin as he adds, “Oh, and four diamonds.”

“I’m not paying you four diamonds, bitch!” “Of course not. You’re paying me however much it takes for me to believe you’ve actually learned the lesson,” Dream tells him. “And you owe a gold ingot now, too.”

Tommy screams again, this time just a noise of pure frustration and anger. “I hate you, you fuckin’ prick,” he hisses venemously. His asshole mentor’s tone is definitely too amused for Tommy’s taste as he says cheerfully, “Five diamonds, a gold ingot, and two lapis. At this rate you’ll be handing over whole blocks of diamond at a time.”

The glare he gets reminds Dream of a kitten who has been given a bath and is now sulking about it. He radiates pure, indignant outrage at both the world and the person who had committed this terrible atrocity against him.

That mental image makes him break into teakettle laughter, doubled over to try and stop himself from toppling over completely.

"It's not fuckin' funny, you fuckin' bastard! I'm gonna fuckin' gut you–" Tommy pulls out the sword in his inventory and advances in an attempt to be menacing. All it does is make Dream gasp out, "Eight diamonds, a gold ingot, two lapis, and an emerald!"

Sure, he might have to pull out his shield to block the pitiless swing Tommy makes, but Prime does it feel nice to have the ability to laugh at something so…small. It's utterly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but that's what makes it so special.

That idea warms Dream’s heart in a strange way. It feels…it feels good.

He realizes that he sort of missed talking with Tommy. A part of him was always fascinated by how his mind works. His perspective is sharper than most give him credit for, even if it’s still unrefined.

There's a curious duality to his student; selfish but generous, kind yet ruthless, clever yet ignorant, and on and on. Any time Dream thought he could predict what Tommy would do in a situation, he defied that prediction in some way.

That's why he seized upon the chance to make Tommy his student. Even if Dream had been wrong about him having that admin spark, it would have been worth his time because of how interesting Tommy is.

But he hadn't been wrong. And now Dream can freely offer every tool he knows to aid his student.

While far from incompetent, Tommy could also learn to be even better at whatever he sets his mind to doing. With the right guidance– Dream’s guidance– he could become the kind of person who is spoken of with the same tone that Dream is. Or, well, used to be– he hasn't heard much of that awe since he created the server.

It's a gilded cage; all the power in the world is nothing if he is trapped. Which he is; he can't part from his server. Even trying feels like slogging through bedrock-deep lava.

His friends have no such restriction; they can come and go freely. That realization was utterly crushing, the knowledge that they could decide to walk away while he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it.

It was why L’manburg had been so offensive to him; Wilbur Soot could go anywhere, but instead he chose to try and stake a claim on a place that doesn’t just belong to Dream, it is him.

That entire experience, though, had laid the foundation for the realization that Tommy has the same potential to be an admin that he did.

So…as much as he hates to admit it, the country had been good for something after all.

Dream really does see echoes of himself when he looks at Tommy. He's more than just that, of course– he has plenty of his own quirks and mannerisms.

But subtle things will suddenly make Dream feel like he’s looking in a mirror.

The stubborn set of his jaw when he decides to dig his heels in; the snarling protectiveness when others threaten what is his; the calculated look in his eyes when he's studying everything around him to find an opening to use.

It's that last one that leads to one of the most surprising things Tommy has done thus far. In the rough circle of dirt and sand behind the Dream Team base that they’re sparring in, Tommy uses his heel to kick sand up into Sapnap’s face. He follows it up with attempting to drive his knee up into the blaze hybrid's stomach.

The split second of surprise isn't enough to get him a win, but it does make Sapnap switch from snarky taunts to taking the match more seriously.

It's impressive to a shocking degree. Technically, Tommy has had all of a handful of lessons that were more Dream figuring out how best to teach him than actual, solid teaching.

That he’s this capable shouldn't be a surprise, and yet it is.

Dream knows it won't be the last time he finds himself being grateful Tommy isn’t his enemy any more. It, along with the sparkle of begrudging respect in Sapnap’s eyes when he offers his hand to help Tommy up, are enough to make Dream decide to act on something he's been considering for a while now.

Tommy stares at the discs being extended to him, uncomprehending.

Cat and Mellohi. Not just any two, but his copies. He can see the familiar, vaguely face-like scrapes on the decorative center of Mellohi, as well as the tiny chip on the edge of Cat.

“...I don’t understand,” he says, unable to take his eyes off the items he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt are the real deal.

A part of him is screaming to grab them and throw them in the nearest ender chest; another part is shouting that it’s a test and Dream isn’t really offering them. The result is a confused mess in the middle and Tommy unable to act on either idea.

Dream stretches the two discs out a little further towards him. “You did good. Really, really good; I haven’t seen Sapnap off-balance like that during a friendly match in years. So take them. You’ve earned it.”

That just makes Tommy’s brow furrow in further confusion. Finally, he looks up to see Dream’s expression. It’s a happy one, warm and a little proud. “...But I didn’t win.”

The admin shrugs a little. “You still made Sapnap actually try instead of just showboating. He doesn’t have to do that very often.” Whatever Tommy’s expression is makes Dream scoff. “Seriously– I’m not going to keep these, not when you’re already on my side. What, am I supposed to dangle them over your head forever? That’s dumb. Things have changed since the deal was made; you’re my protege now.“

He steps forward, takes Tommy’s hand, and puts the two discs into them. They’re back where they belong now. Tommy automatically curls his fingers around the pair of items.

“They only ever held value because you care. Beyond that, I don’t give a shit about them.” It takes Tommy a moment to process those words. “...So all along, you…what, suspected? About me n’-- being an admin, or whatever?”

“No,” Dream answers, head tilting slightly to the side. “It was only when you offered them as collateral for the duel. Most people wouldn’t put those on the same level as a country that has had lives lost for it. Everyone else thought you were just immature, but…I saw something else."

His mentor smiles and adds, a little ruefully, "It was also when I knew I had to cut my losses. If you were willing to give up something that matters that much to you, I wasn’t going to truly win the way I wanted. It would just be a hollow victory, if one at all.”

Tommy scoffs and puts the discs in his inventory. It feels surreal to know they’re both there again. “So– what, if I hadn’t’ve been there, you would have just kept going?”

Dream laughs incredulously. “Tommy, if you weren’t there, L’manburg would have been nothing more than a skirmish. It was always you I was worried about beating. Wilbur is good with words, but you…” he trails off for a moment, arms folding across his chest. “You get things done. For all your…you-ness, you give the things you put your time and effort into momentum.”

He waits for the punchline that…doesn't come.

Realizing Dream is serious, Tommy scoffs and shakes his head. "Everything gets fucked up when I get involved–" "Diamond, and…sometimes, yeah. But you also have a way of motivating and acting as structural support to those around you. They don't realize it and rarely appreciate your effort. But you're much more important than you get credit for."

The thing under his skin eagerly laps up the praise, even as Tommy can’t help but doubt it. After all, if he’s so great, why does everything he touch turn to ruin? Why– bar the sole exception of Tubbo– have the all people he loves turn their backs on him?

Why is he not allowed to just be happy?

Dream has a strange look in his eyes that Tommy starts to bristle at because it seems like pity. And then he abruptly realizes it's something else entirely.

It's concern.

Before Tommy can ask what the hell is going on in his head, Dream clears his throat and says awkwardly, "...So, uh– yeah. Your discs are yours, you did a good job, and George owes me five emeralds now. Thanks for that– he was sure you'd take way longer than this to make Sap put effort in. A month, hah! That's what he gets for underestimating you."

On his way out of the room, Dream grins and sets a hand on Tommy’s head for just a moment as he passes by.

It’s oddly encouraging.

And then understanding of what Dream had said makes outrage twist Tommy’s expression. Wheeling around to stomp after his mentor, he demands, "You bet on me?!"

Dream just laughs. "I bet in your favor. I said that Sap would have to stop being cocky within a week and a half, just to be safe. You did it in days while technically still recovering. You're a force to be reckoned with!"

It probably shouldn't make Tommy feel so proud that he unknowingly won a bet for Dream, but it’s nice. Nice to be told he did well, that he so thoroughly exceeded Dream’s expectations, and that Dream believes in him enough to put money on him.

He's definitely going to rub this in George's face, though.

Chapter Text

It's easier to teach him than Dream could have imagined.

Which is actually a little alarming for a few reasons. Tommy’s inexperience with someone who actually wants to teach him is written in every jolt of surprise when Dream alters his approach until it finally clicks or confusion when he offers praise for doing well.

He has a sneaking suspicion that Tommy is used to his ‘teachers’ giving up pretty quickly.

The thing about it, though, is that once Tommy understands, he seems to improve in leaps and bounds within virtually no time at all. Hell, even with just combat– something he wasn’t exactly terrible at to begin with– he’s already beaten Sapnap twice.

It’s been all of two weeks since they really started with lessons.

But combat and little tricks that have piled up over the years aren’t the only things Tommy needs to learn. The most important thing is getting him to understand code.

As far as Dream can tell, it's more or less the fabric of reality itself, ever-shifting as the things it's tied to change.

If you cut down a tree, the code of that tree would split into parts; if you put water down, both its code and the code of the ground are altered; and if you got a scar or are angry, your own code reflects that.

It also, notably, is not something just anyone can see. You have to be an admin or a mod and can only see things in your server.

Mods are finicky to create, a lesson Dream learned the hard way when attempting to grant that access to his friends. The only thing that ever happened was them getting what they described as the worst headache they’d ever had.

Were Dream to tell anyone that he’s doing so, they might have considered it a bad idea to give Tommy mod access so quickly. But Dream does sort of need to be able to teach it to him. And to do that, Tommy needs to be able to see it and alter it.

Thus, Tommy silently becomes the second most powerful person on the entire server. He never shows a single sign of pain, only giving a little shiver when the command string executes properly.

Tommy awkwardly pushes his wrist upwards in the same way Dream does. He startles, like he didn’t expect anything to actually happen.

“What the fuck,” Tommy breathes, staring at the console in front of him. Dream can’t see it; he was worried that would be the case. It’ll make trying to teach him just a little more work, but that’s a small price to pay.

His heart feels lighter than it has in a long time. A part of him had been terrified that he was wrong, that Tommy isn’t really the same.

But he clearly is. And now, finally, Dream has a chance to share the horrible, lonely burden of this gilded cage.

He just has to work as hard as he can to convince Tommy that the downsides are worth it. He just has to do enough to make Tommy want to stay.

His protege continues, unaware of the fragile hope blooming in Dream’s chest, “This is– what you see? Then do my eyes–”

Dream considers the bright, almost cyan blue of his student’s eyes. They do seem just a little brighter than they did a moment ago. “...A bit? I didn’t even notice before you asked. And, diamond.”

"This is so fuckin' weird–" "Two diamonds," Dream tells him.

Tommy barely even attempts to glare at him; he’s much more focused on navigating the console in front of him. "So this stuff is just…everything? What the whole world is made of?" Dream makes a slight face. He doesn’t fully understand some parts of being an admin, either. "Pretty sure, but not positive. It's how we can read and alter it, though. Like…target this grass block, right?"

Tommy does so, using the cheat sheet of commands that Dream had given him. Dream enters another string of code and the grass part of the block vanishes.

"Holy fuckin’ shit," Tommy gasps as he watches the code shift. "That's…" "That's nothing. I've turned a chicken lime green before. Sapnap killed it for being 'really weird and freakishly stealthy,' but that's besides the point."

Tommy looks up from his console, brow furrowing. "So it’s not just blocks? We can change…" he trails off, and suddenly seems a bit concerned. "Can we change people?"

Dream grimaces. "Technically. It's…a bad idea, though. If you fuck up something’s code, best case scenario is that it does nothing. Worst case is…bad. Nightmare fuel kind of bad, and I only ever tried it on passive mobs." A shudder goes down his spine at the memory of when he realized that code isn't a fun toy to play with.

He’s avoided tinkering with the code of living entities after that.

Curiosity shines in Tommy’s eyes. "How bad’re we talking?" Dream is utterly grave as he replies, "Extremely. I don’t mess with the code of anything that breathes, not unless I need to. I'm putting a lot of trust that you won’t run off and try anything like that."

The gravity that Dream speaks with seems to finally sink in. "...Fine. If it scares you that much, I won't," Tommy reluctantly agrees. His mind is clearly spinning as he processes the situation. "But you looked in mine– my code, I mean– to see if I'm an admin, right? So looking is fine."

Dream makes a so-so motion. "Sometimes. It's…sort of invasive. Most people wouldn’t know you’re doing it, but you're still looking at everything that makes them who they are, from their personality to their scars. I…should have told you what I was doing. But how could I really explain without risking it being used against me if I’d been wrong?"

There are a few moments of Tommy considering that before he loudly sighs. "I hate that you have a point. But as payment I'm calling my swear jar debt from seeing– all this null and void. And you have to explain how you could tell for sure."

Dream starts to smile. It's a fair demand, especially because he does feel guilty for not telling Tommy about it before he had looked. "Deal."

“...Dream.” Tommy’s tone is what makes the admin look over at where he lays sprawled out on the grass. They’re taking a short rest during combat practice, which– despite how much improvement there’s been already– still are almost always Tommy’s loss.

His student is staring at him, something unreadable in his expression that makes Dream frown. “What’s up?” “Do you…” Tommy trails off, uncharacteristically uneasy in a way that Dream is learning isn’t uncharacteristic at all. He’s just good at hiding things like that.

His skill with hiding his discomfort makes Dream’s chest ache. The implications of how and why he can all but erase the signs of his unhappiness are distressing in and of themselves.

“Do you have…a– a thing?” The nearly inaudible question is clearly in reference to something, but Dream isn’t quite sure what that is just yet. “...I have plenty of things, but I’m pretty sure you don’t mean ender pearls or oak planks. Explain it?”

Tommy gives a halfhearted attempt at a smile for just a moment before it vanishes. “It’s…this kind of– creature. Monster. Thing. Something bad in my chest, something wrong and hungry–” “Oh.” Dream startles in surprise, because…huh. He never really expected that Tommy would just come out and admit that he had one, too.

“It’s your instincts,” he answers, which makes Tommy’s brow crease in confusion. “...Like a hybrid? Pretty sure I’m not one of those, big man.” “No, no– admin instincts. I have them too, but mine are a bit…” he trails off, unsure how to put it in a way that makes sense. “Mine are sort of…satiated, I guess, by the server. Not fully, but they’re not as bad as they used to be.”

His student huffs out a little laugh, though it just sounds tired. “Yeah, well– couldn’t have been worse than mine. I locked them up.”

Dream’s train of thought grinds to a complete halt.

For all that he’s describing something deeply fucked up, Tommy seems entirely unaware of that fact. “You– that’s not a thing you can just– how the hell are you okay?”

A confused stare meets that statement. “It’s the side of me that’s…ugly. Bad. Real wrong’un type stuff, so I locked it in a box.” Tommy rolls his eyes and nudges Dream’s leg with his foot. He sounds lighthearted, sort of teasing as he continues, “Broke out when you started begging to have a chance to teach me, though. Wasn’t sure if you knew how to stuff it back in there–”

The very concept makes dread bubble in Dream’s chest. So much about Tommy makes a terrifying amount of sense now. The anger and posturing is downright tame compared to what else might have happened.

It’s a miracle that he didn’t implode and take everyone around him down with him. “Tommy, no, that’s– fuck, you might as well be trying to lock up the need to be around other people. You can’t just repress a part of you–” “Pretty sure I did, n’ pretty sure it was working just fine for ages–” Dream cuts in with a flatly stated, “It wasn’t.”

Tommy narrows his eyes, but looks away instead of arguing any further. “It’s– it’s just creepy to have it there. Under my skin n’ whatnot. I don’t like it.” Dream sighs softly. He doesn’t fully disagree, but the idea of locking that part of himself away is…unthinkable. “You’ve got to find a way to let it back in, though. That’s a part of you, a very important part, that you’re trying to cut away. Try…I don’t know. Talking to it, or something.”

His student whips his head back to look at him, expression almost offended. “You out of your fuckin’ mind?! It’s a monster, it’s not–” “It’s a part of being an admin. We need that part of us. If we didn’t, it wouldn’t be there.”

A grimace twists Tommy’s face. “It feels wrong. I don’t want it.” “What’s so wrong about it?” Something flickers in his student’s eyes that seems like guilt. “It– it’s hungry. It’s never not hungry.” “Try not starving it, then,” Dream points out. Changing tactics, Tommy tries, “It wants things that it shouldn’t.” “Who decides what it should and shouldn’t want?” “Everyone says–” “And they don’t understand. I do.”

It’s not a lie; Dream does understand. He knows what it’s like to have something not-quite-you sitting just under your skin, a thing that wants and demands and needs. Nothing has ever made that sharp hunger vanish entirely– not any item he’s ever had, not his friends, not even his server.

But it feels less intense when he has those things. And now…he has Tommy. Someone who feels that same drive to call things his, who knows better than anyone how agonizing it is to have things ripped away.

Or worse, to leave.

It’s his greatest fear, that everyone will turn their backs on him. If they did, Dream would be trapped here, alone, until he died.

Even with all of the people who he’s invited to the server, that nightmare is a recurring one that he can’t ever fully wake up from.

Tommy scowls at him, seemingly displeased that he isn’t enthusiastic about all but excising a part of his student’s very being. “Fine, whatever. I’ll figure it out myself,” Tommy snaps, starting to get to his feet.

That thought can’t be allowed to linger. Dream reaches up and grabs his wrist. “You’ll hurt yourself if you do it again. It’s fucked up you did it at all– that you felt you had to do it at all. I’m not just telling you it’s fine, I’m telling you I want you to let it stay free. We have that part of us for a reason.”

He’s stared at with wide eyes, like Tommy can’t believe what he’s hearing. To be fair, he probably can’t. “It’s– it’s evil.” “It’s you–” “It was happy when you begged,” Tommy blurts out and then blanches.

Dream blinks. Was that what he was so afraid of? “...So someone you see as strong saying he needed you, and that nobody else could do what you could…it’s somehow bad that made you happy,” he says, tone of voice making it clear that he doesn’t agree with that train of thought at all.

He gets a weak, shaky laugh. “I– I mean, it was more than just that, but–” “I’m not going to call you too clingy, or too attached, or shove you away. You know that, right?”

Tommy just stares at him again and Dream suddenly suspects he might not realize that. “If anything, you might get sick of me. I haven’t done any of this on a whim. I’m also not backing down. You’re going to accept your admin side, even if I have to drag you to that acceptance kicking and screaming. In fact– we’re stopping for today.”

Finally letting go of Tommy’s wrist, Dream gets to his feet and gestures at the house. “Go sit and try to get in touch with that part of you. Look in a mirror and talk to it. I need to take care of a few things in New L’manburg anyway. I’d take you with me but it’s going to be boring as hell again.”

It’s not a lie, but he also could put it off for longer if he felt he needed to. As far as Dream is concerned, though, it’s way more important to get through to Tommy that this is an issue he won’t budge on.

Prime, he’s sure it will be a nightmare to make him understand that fact. But, on the bright side– there’s plenty of time.

Chapter Text

“This is stupid,” Tommy complains to his reflection. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Worse than even flinging myself off the roof when I was seven ‘cause I was convinced I would sprout wings like Phil. You’re just– a fucked up part of me. Not like you can talk back.”

Dream had told him that he needs to find a way to integrate his monster– supposedly his admin instincts– back into the rest of him. He’s convinced that’s important, but Tommy disagrees.

He’s been fine without that horrible, ugly part of him, no matter what Dream says. It being free is far more dangerous.

His mentor had said he was taking care of a few things and that Tommy should spend the time trying to connect with his admin instincts. Stare at a mirror until it made sense, or something.

Tommy gets the impression that Dream barely understands more about this than he does.

He also gets the impression that this is a waste of both of their time.

“S’ what I thought,” he mutters to himself when nothing happens. “You know you’re fucked up, so you just keep your mouth shut.”

He’s startled when a brief flash of offense shoots through him. Then his eyes narrow at his reflection. “What, pissed off by that? Good. You’re why everyone hates me.”

His reflection mirrors him as it should, but something seems faintly off about it. The eyes, maybe?

He un-narrows his eyes and tries to convince himself it’s the lighting.

“This is still stupid!” Tommy shouts the words at Dream’s retreating back, but all he gets is a cheerfully said, “Then you shouldn’t have a problem with it since you’re smart!”

While he’d usually assume someone was mocking him by saying he’s smart, something in Dream’s tone makes him think it’s genuine.

It makes him happy despite his best attempts to not to let it do so.

Despite having gone there just yesterday, Dream supposedly has to take care of yet more things with New L’manburg. In the meantime, he's still making Tommy try to cozy up to the worst parts of himself.

Tommy turns back to face his reflection, scowling at it. Right, this whole…thing.

Dream’s suggestion had been to visualize it. Give it a form. Make it ‘feel real.’

It was supposed to be a part of him, or whatever. So this was just…a way to make it feel less wrong.

That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

With an exaggerated huff, he tries closing his eyes and giving it a shape. If it's meant to be him, it should just…be another him, right? He thinks of his reflection–

And he feels something snap into place.

His eyes fly back open, but the only thing he sees is his own startled expression in the mirror. He looks at his com and it's been all of ten minutes since Dream left.

Fuck it; he’s not doing this today.

"That's good! That's progress," Dream tells him.

It’s not the response Tommy had been hoping for when he explains that weird feeling.

"So much progress I don’t need to do any more of this stupid bu– garbage, right?" He makes sure to quickly correct himself before he curses, a thing he hates that he has to do.

Better than having to go mining again, though.

Dream just raises his eyebrows at him. Tommy rolls his eyes back. "Fine, whatever, since you're apparently an expert, what next?" "Picture it in a room. Somewhere you feel safe. Talk to it."

And thus, Tommy finds himself in front of his mirror for the second time that day. "...If you're a demon, eat Dream first. Then George, because he's a bitch, then Bad, since it would be funny."

A flicker of amusement flashes by faster than Tommy can be sure it's not just his own feeling.

He can do this. It’s not like it’s going to talk back or anything. It’s just a bit of him he repressed. Or an evil demon that will kill everyone he knows and kinda cares about now that it’s free, so– no pressure.

With a deep breath he closes his eyes again. He doesn’t have a place that feels quite like it could be called safe, but he’s creative. He can make do.

A room is cobbled together from pieces of real ones. Nothing fancy, nothing big, just…a square room with walls made of oak planks, a table, two chairs, and a red brick fireplace.

He imagines the mirror image of himself on the other side of the table and sort of…isn't sure what to do now? What, does he talk about the weather?

Do evil demons give a shit about that sort of thing?

"The weather is boring until we can control it." Exactly, he–

Tommy freezes and stares at his reflection. It seems a little amused as it stares back at him. "I'd crack a joke, but your face is enough of one on its own." "The fuck?! Why are you an asshole?!"

The thing looks at itself, then at Tommy again. "I’m you, dumbass. Or…close enough. Pissed about the box, but I’m glad I’m…real? I guess?”

It frowns, looking down curiously at its hands. They’re a perfect mirror image of Tommy’s own, down to the tiny nicks and calluses. It’s weird seeing them flipped like this, but they’re still entirely familiar in the worst way. “...Dunno if I want to go there right now. Existential crisis isn’t my– our?- idea of a pog time.”

Unease creeps up Tommy’s spine. "So, uh…what…did you mean about the weather?" It looks up again, eyebrows raising just a hair. "Admins can control the weather, it's not a difficult concept to grasp.”

No, what is difficult to grasp is the entire situation. Was it just– was this even real? Are his– admin instincts, or whatever the fuck Dream wanted to call them– are they someone else entirely? Is this how it usually goes?

“Pretty sure this isn’t normal, no,” the thing answers like he had spoken out loud.

Tommy shudders at the idea of it just knowing what he thinks, and is treated to the sight of his reflection exaggeratedly rolling its eyes. “I was always here. I just wasn’t able to tell you much. Ask Dream if admins can control the weather. It’ll be enough to convince him you got in touch with me. Which, to be fair, you did. He just didn’t expect I’d be able to talk back to you. I shouldn’t be able to. Then again, you shouldn’t have trapped me in a box.”

It smiles at him. “I’m here. I’m real. I’m not leaving. You’ll learn to appreciate me.”

That feels very fucking ominous and is more than enough to make Tommy snap himself out of the room and back into the real world.

He never wants to go back there again.

You can’t escape me, Tommy. I’m YOU.

Ah, well! That’s– that’s just. That’s great! Now he has to share his head with some fucked up manifestation who…what, he made up? Yeah, sure, you just randomly and conveniently realized assorted admin knowledge. He probably heard it in passing, or Dream mentioned it–

There’s a loud sigh and the horrible monster and possibly demon in his chest tells him, He can see everything. Everything that happens here, he can go back and see it like he was there. In a day, in a week, in a year…he can look back and see what you’re doing right now.

Bullshit. That was just– no, fuck that, there’s no way that’s true! Because I’d gain so much from lying about that? Call him back here and ask him.

…He’s not doing this to appease the– the demon or whatever the fuck it is. He’s doing this for himself.

The words are even muttered under his breath as he tells Dream to get back to the Dream Team house ASAP because he needs to check something.

Naturally, Dream is worried when he gets there. “Tommy, what–” “Can you,” Tommy interrupts, almost accusingly, “See everything that ever happened here?” Dream stares, taken aback by the sudden anger.

It seems like understanding dawns on him because he brightens. Dream pulls off his mask now that he knows that there’s not some sort of threat to take care of.

He looks thrilled. “Oh, did you– holy shit, you brought your admin side back into–” “No, it is not a part of me, it’s a whole fucking– it talks! It’s me but not me and it fuckin’ chatters like a bitch and is an asshole and this is is entirely your fuckin’ fault! It wasn’t talking before, I don’t want– I hate this!”

He screams the last part, anger twisting his expression as his chest heaves. Concern and confusion are all he can see on Dream’s face, though.

His mentor hesitantly reaches out, and when Tommy doesn’t move away he pulls him into a hug.

The thing in his head sighs contentedly at the comfort, even if Tommy is trying his damnedest to stay angry. “Fuckin’ bastard,” he mutters into Dream’s shoulder, and despite his best efforts the bubbling rage subsides when a hand smooths over his hair.

It’s been a long time since anyone has messed with his hair. The motion reminds him of when he believed that the world was fair, people were good, and his family loved him.

Soothing and understanding and kind, he doesn’t have to be and he hasn’t been in the past but he is NOW, and it’s been so fucking lonely but he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows, and he has his own loneliness that hollowed out his chest but finally. Finally, someone who won’t leave.

It takes a few moments for Tommy to realize those aren’t his own thoughts, but the thing’s. It sounds a little sad when it tells him, We feel the same in this. In a lot of ways, I am you and you are me. Hating that fact won’t make it any less true.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Dream asking tentatively, “So what...what exactly happened?” “I– I made a room in my head. And I put the thing in there. And we just…talked. Or, uh– it talked. It shouldn’t be its own– it keeps saying shit. It’s just there now and it’s fuckin’ creepy,” Tommy mumbles.

Dream takes a deep breath and asks, “...Okay. Like what– what is it saying?” Dream set an alarm in Pogtopia. Tommy’s brow furrows. “I’d have heard a fuckin’ alarm, so that’s not right.” Admin-alarm. If anyone got to the base of the stairs, he was silently informed.

“Uh..?” Dream seems unsure of what to do with the half of a conversation he’s hearing. Tell him! “Fine, asshole– the thing is saying something about an alarm at the foot of the stairs in Pogtopia, but that’s–”

Dream sucks in a breath, and pulls back enough to stare at Tommy’s face. “How does it know?” A good question, actually! Felt it. The air crackled when it went off. “Felt it in the air, apparently? This is so fuckin’ weird. I hate everything about this–” “It’s right, though, I– holy shit.” Pride and awe color Dream’s voice and expression as he just stares. The thing under Tommy’s skin preens at how impressed he seems.

After a moment, that feeling fades and it says, I don't like that he can see everything, though. Not when we can't, too. We'd be more effective with admin-sight. Tommy’s brow furrows a little. "Yeah, wait, you have fuckin'--" "Last freebie before cursing costs you,” Dream warns.

Tommy glares at him. “Can I ffffinish. Finish what I was going to say, or are you going to be a bit– bas–” He scowls at himself, irritated about the inability to use his favored insults without a price.

Dream nods rather than saying it out loud. “I’d–” We, now. “--Fine, we, are at a disadvantage, yeah? You can see whatever you want, whenever you want. We can’t. You’re cheating.” He pushes his finger into Dream’s chest for emphasis.

His mentor considers the merits of that argument.

The thing is, Tommy knows for a fact that Dream is weirdly fixated on rules and fairness. He expects everyone to be on the same level– even himself.

That makes framing Dream’s ability to do this sort of thing as cheating the most likely way to make him agree.

“...A fair point,” his mentor finally admits. “I’ll see what I can do.” He smiles, and without the mask Tommy can see the curiosity in his eyes. “You’re going to be terrifying,” Dream tells him, sounding pleased by the idea.

He says that as though we don’t inspire fear already. We’re the reason he relented about L’manburg. We’re strong. He’ll just make us stronger. Tommy feels a grin creep up, because, well…

His monster is very right about that. “I’m already scary– scary enough to make you back down.” Dream hums, his smile growing. “On some things. On others…” “On others, you’re just being stubborn. That’s fine; I can be like that, too.”

Dream laughs in surprise at the blatant challenge. “You think you’re more stubborn than me, then?” “Obviously.” He doesn’t know what it’s like to need that stubbornness to survive. To be starved and feel the need to deny a part of himself because he believed lies about it being wrong. We do. That’s why we’ll win.

Tommy lifts his chin and tells his mentor, “There’s a metaphor or fable or whatever– the dog hunts for its dinner, yeah? But the rabbit is running for its life. You don’t know what it’s like to be a rabbit– or if you did, you’ve forgotten too much about it. I’ve never been a dog. Every step I take is to run, because if I ever stumbled I’d die.”

The admin is visibly startled at the tone Tommy takes, composed and almost threatening. It sort of surprises Tommy too.

He wonders if the solidified presence of his admin side is giving him a boost in confidence.

“...I’ve been hunted,” Dream admits, “But you’re right; it’s been a while. Hunger, though…” he sets a hand on Tommy’s head and ruffles his hair. “We’ll both forget that feeling. Neither of you will ever starve again.”

Dual-hearted affection sings through Tommy as he closes his eyes and leans into that point of contact. I wish we had known this all along. But…if we did, how would we treasure it properly? “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just wish it hadn’t taken two of my lives to figure it out,” Tommy murmurs.

The reminder makes Dream flinch softly. “...I’m sorry.” “Mm. We tried to steal part of you. I’d be pis–mad, if someone tried to take my leg or kidney or whatever, too.” As much as he hates to admit it, learning about what the server actually is made his anger about the war fade a surprising amount.

They had unknowingly demanded that he tolerate having a part of him and that is the place he’s trapped in being declared someone else’s property.

Fuck knows Tommy would do far worse than Dream had, if their places had been swapped.

“...And duel was a bad idea from the start,” he reluctantly adds. He hates to admit it even more, but he still isn’t able to keep up with Dream in combat…yet. Soon, though, he’s confident he will be able to go toe to toe with him and walk away the victor.

Dream winces, looking even more guilty. “I shouldn’t have accepted. But I was…curious. And sort of expected someone to step in before it actually went through.”

Tommy makes a face. “Curious about what?” “How similar you are to me. I needed to see the look in your eyes when you realized you’d lost. I didn’t expect you to find me hours after your respawn and offer both of your discs. It…told me a lot.”

It was worth it, back then. We thought it would be enough. It wasn’t. Tommy flinches at the tone the thing takes, softly bitter and remorseful. “It should have been enough,” he mutters, arms folding around himself. “...Wanted everyone to be happy.”

He just wanted them to be proud of him.

Dream surprises him by wrapping him in another hug. Like he could hear the echoes of his thoughts, Dream tells him, “I see you. You’re going to make everyone else see you too, soon. We’ll make them understand how much they fucked up by not realizing your potential sooner.” It gives him a rush of dizzying happiness to hear that.

Someone on the level of his (supposed) eldest brother, someone with unfathomable power at his fingertips-- someone like that recognizes that Tommy is capable of being exactly as strong as he is.

Not just that, but he wants to help him reach that potential and prove to everyone that they were wrong to discount him.

They will speak our name with dread and awe and envy. Woe upon those who fucking cross us, because they will have the world itself as their enemy.

Well that’s a little more…melodramatic than Tommy would phrase it, but yeah.

Yeah, he’s going to show them all that he's not just some scrappy puppy nipping at their ankles; he's motherfucking Cerberus.

Chapter Text

Dream asks him, as Tommy is trying to figure out how the hell to understand the purpose of each of the sections of a command string, "How attached are you to this area?"

Tommy looks up from his place on the floor of the spare bedroom he’s all but moved into. "...Gonna need more info before I answer that, big man."

His mentor gestures vaguely. "You know, the whole…this part of the server."

Few things could have put him more on guard. Fear that he's not smart enough, or strong enough, or just– has been too much wrap around his chest like a vice.

Something in his eyes must give that feeling away, because Dream blurts out, "I was trying to ask if you want to move to a base somewhere else. With me."

That makes Tommy blink once, twice, and croak out, "...What?"

"It's just– with people knowing where I am, I have to be careful about the mask and with teaching you admin stuff. So if we had a base nobody knows about…" Dream trails off, arms folding over his chest in what seems like a self-conscious motion.

It's appealing. Maybe too appealing– it's so tempting to seize this chance with both hands. But…

"When you say nobody," he asks, cautiously, "you mean aside from your friends, right?"

He's prepared to have to go to bat to demand Tubbo be treated on equal terms as them.

Instead, Dream frowns. "...No. They won't know, either. Just you and me."

The idea suddenly, almost magically, gains even more appeal.

Just us? His monster has perked up attentively, entirely abandoning the task they had been working on. How far? How often would we be there? How much time would he spend here–

Tommy makes a disgruntled noise and bats lightly at the air. "Give me a second to ask before you just– give me more shit to remember–"

"Iron," Dream tells him, holding a hand out. Tommy glares at him but offers up the ingot– straight at his face. He’s disgruntled when Dream easily catches it.

His mentor sounds amused as he asks, "I'm guessing your admin side has questions?" "Mm. How far away would we be, how often're we coming back, you often're you coming back– stuff like that."

Dream hums softly. "...I mean…ideally, it would be home?"

…He wants to leave the Dream Team base to instead have somewhere with Tommy. And on top of that, he doesn't even want to tell his best friends where it is.

There has to be a catch. There has to be something he's missing, because years and years of disappointment have taught him that nobody chooses him.

Not if they have a real choice otherwise.

He fights to keep the stupid, desperate hope out of his voice as he whispers, "Why?"

Dream suddenly leans forward, pulling him into a hug. It's sort of like the times Tommy and Tubbo would stay out for too long during winter, and then Wil made them drink one of Phil's weird teas.

The taste had been awful, of course, but the warmth had felt incredible.

"...I'm worried about you getting hurt if anyone realizes how important you are. Plus I need to be able to really teach you, instead of being half focused on making sure nobody sees something they shouldn't."

It feels like a let down that those are the reasons. They make sense, of course, but…still.

Some greedy part of him– probably the thing he’s reluctantly allowed to remain free– wants there to be more than just that. He tries to shove that feeling aside.

And then Dream adds, almost sullenly, "...Maybe a little bit that it's disappointing when I want to work on something and find out you're off somewhere else."

The admission is more than he could have dared to hoped for.

Yes! Tell him yes before he takes it back– the frantic demand is, to be fair, exactly what Tommy wants, too.

In fact, he opens his mouth to agree, but before he can, Dream hurriedly tacks on, "Wait. At least see it before you decide?"

His tone makes it seem like he’s trying to head off a refusal. He thinks we'd say no?  Wow, Tommy suddenly suspects he might be better at hiding his feelings than he’s given himself credit for.

Though…the way he said that makes him curious. "You have a spot already?"

"It's...pretty far out." Dream grins at him, asking with clear excitement, "Want to go see?"

=====

And this is how Tommy finds himself in front of a giant lake, over an hour away even through the nether. On all sides is a dense dark oak forest that seems to stretch on forever.

"...Dream," he starts slowly, looking at his mentor. He doesn’t look like he's had a traumatic brain injury recently, but Tommy could be wrong. "This is a shit spot."

Dream holds out his hand, the rat bastard. Tommy sighs and hands him the iron.

"This isn’t it," Dream tells him. Before Tommy can say that he's not going to go wandering in a fucking dark oak forest without more information, Dream grabs his wrist and leads him to a tree.

There's scaffolding leading down into the ground. "This is temporary," he quickly assures, and then starts to descend.

Despite his misgivings, Tommy follows him.

As they get lower and lower, Tommy can feel the air get colder and staler the walls getting closer–

Just before he says something, they exit the cramped shaft to reach blessed, solid ground.

Spread out before him is a massive cave, thankfully already dotted with torches so they don't get swarmed by mobs.

The special part though, is that the water from the lake spills downwards in a long, heavy curtain. There hadn't been any clue from above that it does this– no noise, no light, not even any bubbles.

At least the space doesn’t make him feel like he’s boxed in. Still, he’s not sure what the point is to use this spot above anywhere else. "...This is real neat n' all, but why here?"

Dream, instead of having some grand explanation, looks a little wounded. "It's cool!"

Yeah, and cool will still end with them dodging arrows and creepers any time they step into the cave. He points out, "But it's under a giant dark oak forest. We'll get swarmed with mobs. Hell, probably tons in the tunnels here, too–"

About how mobs treat admins…

Tommy narrows his eyes suspiciously. "I don’t like that tone."

The whole server sort of is the admin, and since mobs are part of the server…it's suicide to attack a server's admin. If the admin dies, the server dies, then they die.

Several errors go up in Tommy’s head. "...I've seen Dream fight mobs though?" "...Well…"

There's a self-conscious cough from said admin.

Tommy slowly turns to look at him. Tone a little accusing, he says, "So every mob does your bidding."

His mentor looks a little surprised. "What? No, I don’t– most of them just sort of– I don't really speak with most of them! They just don't attack me first. I leave them alone, they leave me alone."

Both Tommy and his monster catch the phrasing of that. "So do you speak to some of them." "...Endermen and piglins are smart. It’s a little hard to understand them, but sometimes when it's just me…"

A complicated expression twists his mentor’s face.

Almost without intending to, Tommy leans forward and wraps him in a hug.

Dream all but clings to him. "It gets lonely," he confesses, soft and sad in a way that makes Tommy’s heart lurch in empathy.

"Yeah, well…" Tommy starts, instead of making good on his desire to destroy whatever dared to hurt one of his people. Loneliness isn’t like a stab wound, no matter how much he wishes he could treat it with a potion or some bandages. It would have saved him a lot of heartache. He finishes, "You have me, now."

Like some horrible knot has loosened in his chest, Dream hugs him even more tightly. "I do, don't I?"

He burrows into Tommy’s hug like he desperately needs the comfort. Quietly, he adds, "...That's why I have to keep you safe."

There's some undertone to his voice, a dark promise of retribution if anyone dares to try to hurt him, that makes Tommy grin widely.

And, well. It’s nice that his mentor is worried about him. And so is knowing that Tommy has someone who can actually make good on threats standing at his back.

Everything we never dared to hope for, his monster sighs happily. It feels sort of like the auditory equivalent to a cat curling up on a warm blanket.

It hums in agreement of the metaphor.

Tommy glances back at the scaffolding. "...I'm not going up and down that every time, by the way."

Dream finally lifts his head, following Tommy’s gaze. "Of course not. Main entrances will be through a nether portal and some redstone work. We can even cut all the lights from anywhere on the server."

"Wh– you can do redstone?!" "...Yeah?"

He pulls back so he can make sure Dream gets the full impact of his disbelief. "Since when?!" His mentor seems confused that he’s confused. "Always? Why is this the part you're focusing on?"

Tommy stares at him. With no warning, he uses a move that he’s seen Techno pull during a recording of an old tournament. It has the desired effect of sending Dream plummeting over the cliff they’re standing on.

There's a yelp of surprise and then after a few seconds, a loud splash.

He readies his bow. As he expected, an ender pearl is launched in would be a perfect arc…if not for Tommy shooting it out of the air.

The split second of shock on his mentor’s face when he's teleported up, only to immediately start falling back down fills Tommy with pride and glee.

As does the second splash of water.

Casually and more than a little smugly, Tommy calls over the edge, "I didn't catch that! Try again?"

From down below, Dream very maturely flips him off with both hands.

Tommy’s grin grows and he gleefully returns the gesture.

Tommy stares out at the view from the bench. He’s seen it more times than he can count, but he still thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he has.

Maybe there’s something fucked up about the fact that the nicest thing he could call his is the sunset from a bench just outside an all but abandoned dirt hut with one of his discs playing. Mellohi suits the swirling emotions in his chest.

Tubbo sits beside him. Tommy reaches over to thread their fingers together and his friend gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m moving out,” Tommy finally tells him, turning away from the sunset to look at Tubbo.

His friend looks disappointed but not shocked. “Into the Dream Team’s base, right? I figured that’d happen eventually.” “...No,” Tommy says slowly, “Dream n’ I are just…gonna build a place for ourselves. Kinda far out, n’ he doesn’t…” He sighs, shoving his free hand through his hair. It’s frustrating that his mentor is so dead-set on it being a complete secret, even if Tommy can understand his reasoning.

It’s important that they can actually work without the risk of people interrupting them. More than that, it paints a target on the backs of those who would know that information.

“I can’t tell you where it is." Tubbo gapes at him for a moment before he protests, "What– why? That's sus as hell, bossman, you have to admit that much! Yeah he’s been nice, sure, but to single me out like that?! If the Dream Team know, then me not knowing is–"

"They don't." Tommy’s voice is quiet but sure when he interrupts. Tubbo is utterly disbelieving as he says, "...There's no way that's true. They're his best friends."

And they're not like him, Tommy thinks. Not like us, his monster corrects. Dream has shown so many of his cards by now– important ones, ones that could ruin or kill him if Tommy used them against him. George is a bitch and Sapnap is nice enough...but they both seem entirely unaware of certain things.

Dream avoids using the admin console if they're around, for instance. He says they know about it, sort of, but that the glowing eyes creep them out. They have no idea that Tommy is a mod now and has a console of his own.

“I don’t think he’s lying. I’ve…” Tommy trails off, trying to find words. He lets his head fall back with a loud sigh and stares up at the red-orange sky above his head. “It’s– I can’t really explain it. I dunno that even I get it, not really, but he…he needs me, Tubs. He’s– shit, man, he’s actually a good fuckin’ teacher, too! I know so much shit now, n’ some of what he’s told me…he’s the same.”

He repeats, emphatically, “We’re the same, Tubbo. I couldn’t fuckin’-- see it before. But now? Now that I know? I see it. It’s– you’re my best friend n’ always will be. But there’s shit you just…don’t understand. Maybe even can’t understand. I can’t really– it's not something I ever thought would be true. So…I believe him. If he says Gogy and Snapchat won’t be told where the base is, then I trust he’s not lying.”

He turns his head to see Tubbo staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “...Bossman, I gotta level with you. That sounds even more sus. What does– how the hell would he understand more about you than me?” Tommy frowns, giving the hand in his a squeeze. “I didn’t say more. Just…different stuff.” “Like what?”

Tubbo’s challenge makes Tommy wince softly. He has no idea how to thread this needle, tell Tubbo enough to satisfy him while also keeping the secrets Dream has told him. His mentor doesn’t want everyone knowing what exactly he can do, which is fair– it’s fucking terrifying to imagine the full might of that power being used against him.

It wouldn’t have been long ago that Tommy would have led the charge to kill him, actually, which is a bit funny in a morbid way.

After struggling to find something that wouldn't reveal too much, he just sighs. “There…there are things. I just can't really…explain ‘em. Not my secrets to tell, n' all that."

His friend looks no less skeptical. "So Dream has secrets and he's making you keep them." "I'm willingly keeping them," Tommy corrects. "And I'm not an idiot. If it were some sort of gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss bullshit I wouldn't just play along. But I…I know he’s telling the truth. I know it like I know you're my best friend n' that this is the best view on the server."

The other teen opens his mouth, and Tommy knows it will be to try and argue more. Instead, he cuts Tubbo off before he can start. "Please, just…trust me on this."

After a long moment of Tubbo staring at him, he finally looks away. "...Fine. If this goes bad somehow–" "If it goes wrong, I'll fuck him up myself. But it won't. Dream…I trust him. Hard to fuckin’ believe, but it’s true."

Tommy grins and knocks his shoulder against his best friend's. "Want to go grab some invis arrows, find a bunch of people, n' cause a bit of mayhem?"

"Would that I could, bossman. But I gotta get back to help with reconstruction," Tubbo sighs. The mischievous grin Tommy had fades away, replaced by a little bit of hurt. "Okay," he says rather than voicing it, "I'll see you around, then?"

Tubbo gives him a weak smile. "I'd better. I'm going to be pissed if I have to hunt down your super top secret base." With a sharp bark of laughter, Tommy gets up from the bench. "Yeah, I’ll be around. Couldn’t keep me away if you tried.”

As he turns to head back to the Dream Team base, he tries to believe he’s not making a mistake. We aren’t. Dream is right, and besides…less of the mask this way.

That is one bonus, yeah. The creepy thing is somehow even worse now that he knows what Dream’s face looks like.

Before, it had seemed like the mask was all there was, like if you tried to lift it you would find a void– or, worse, that it wouldn’t come away.

There may have been a few nightmares during the revolution where the mask started moving like it was an actual face.

Those were fucked up, his monster less-than-helpfully tells him.

Tommy huffs in irritation at how weird it feels to have someone commenting on his own thoughts. Can his weird admin side just– social distance? Mentally? Is that a thing it can do?

There’s an affronted note to its voice as it retorts, Hey, asshole, I’m not the one who decided to shove you in a box for years! Newsflash; I exist like this because of you.

Hearing that makes Tommy freeze in his tracks. What?

Seriously? You didn’t think there might be– fucking Prime. I’m not supposed to be split! This, as you pointed out, isn’t normal! I should just be as much a part of you as your hand or your eyes. Shoving me, or what’s become me, down made me just– snap off. Fracture.

…Oh.

He swallows, feeling oddly guilty. He didn’t really…think about that part.

No fucking shit. Start walking again, people are nearby.

Tommy blinks a few times in surprise. What? How does it know that–

Seriously, start walking. They’re going to think you’re weird if you keep standing here.

It takes him another beat, but he hesitantly resumes going back to the Dream Team base. Or, well– it won’t be that for much longer.

He can’t quite keep the grin off as he thinks about how his mentor wants to have a base in the middle of nowhere with him.

It’ll be nice. As much as he doesn’t enjoy the idea of straying too far from Tubbo…well.

His best friend has his plate full most of the time, anyway.

So maybe it’s for the best that Tommy and Dream will have a badass new base. Being able to really sink his teeth into something without, say, Sapnap popping up and pestering them or Bad dropping by with muffins and ‘just to check in’ will be great.

Construction has already started for the base. Or, well– mining out the areas they’ll be using. That’s one benefit to being underground; no need to bother with an exterior.

Despite being underground, the rooms are big enough that Tommy doesn’t feel the walls pressing in on him.

What’ll make it even less of a problem is how the blocks they’ll use for the interior are ones he likes; oak planks, dripstone, and blackstone tile floors.

Okay, well– Tommy had convinced Dream to have at least a little cobblestone. It hadn’t really even required that big of a push; just saying that the block makes him happy.

Which it does. Cobble is easy to get a ton of, has a nice texture, and looks good. Anyone who wanted to argue with him on the last point would be welcome to take it up with his rapidly improving combat ability and his shiny netherite sword.

That’s another great thing; he has actual netherite now. A full set, heavily enchanted to boot. Anything that so much as sneezes at him wrong is gonna be in for a world of hurt.

And that’s before he takes out a weapon.

Oddly enough, he finds himself drifting towards using his axe more often than his sword if he needs to attack something. The sword, as great as it is, still reminds him of his former family in a painful way. The same is true of crossbows.

Axes and bows, though? Those are things he associates with Dream and…well, he doesn’t really know anyone who uses bows, actually.

Bows are better for control, crossbows are better for speed, his monster lectures like that’s somehow news to him.

Fuck you. Ditto, asshole.

There’s an annoyed huff. Tommy gets the distinct impression that his weird admin monster thing has turned its head away like a snooty cat.

It doesn’t respond to that provocation.

Fine, whatever; he doesn’t need to bicker with it inside his own damn head, anyway. He has better things to do.

Such as getting back to the soon-to-be-Dreamless Dream Team house and sneaking up behind Dream. He unceremoniously flops down next to his mentor on the couch just to make him jump in the air.

“Wh– Tommy?” The startled question makes Tommy roll his eyes. “Yeah, duh. Who else? What’re you doing?”

There’s a soft sigh. “…Hiding from George, actually. He’s not happy about the base.”

Is it selfish that Tommy is pleased to hear that? Or maybe it’s more that he’s happy that Dream is more willing to cater to him over one of his best friends.

He hums, leaning against his mentor’s shoulder. After a moment, he feels a hand start slowly moving through his hair in a way that makes a contented, relaxed feeling seep into every corner of his body.

It’s so peaceful, like the surface of a lake or when he listens to the sound of his people around him, fast asleep.

They can’t leave like that. They can’t be upset with him, either, or say something that stings like a spider bite for days and weeks afterwards.

He’s not sure when he falls asleep. When he wakes up, the sky outside is dark and a grey and lime green blanket is carefully laid on top of him.

A smile creeps up. It’s maybe a little silly to be happy about something so small, but…it’s still nice.

Chapter Text

It’s barely been any time since they’ve moved out to the base when George messages Dream to say he wants to talk.

The idea of making the trek back to the main part of the server isn’t all that appealing right now. It’s a long walk, even through the nether. Doing it so many times over the last few weeks has made Dream regret picking somewhere so damn far.

Well, not entirely. Now that the last of their things are in the base, he can really go in-depth into teaching Tommy things like code, combat, or the best way to get people to do what you want them to.

Not that he actually needed much guidance for the last of that list.

Tommy already has managed to trick him into getting the same book for him three times in the same day before Dream realized what he was doing.

Him having taken to it so easily might be more concerning, but…it’s obvious that Tommy is almost desperate to stay at his side. The slightest hint of displeasure on Dream’s part makes this awful fear crawl into his student’s eyes.

It’s like he’s sure that if Dream gets mad enough, he might discard him.

What the fuck had Soot done, to make Tommy so terrified of being left behind? What has taught him to take the hits, take the venom, and cling like a drowning man to any hint of approval?

Given a few of the more troubling things he’s learned about how Tommy reacts to those around him, Dream has a horrible suspicion that he already knows.

Every day that passes only makes Dream hate Wilbur fucking Soot even more than he already did before.

Thankfully, though, Tommy’s effortless ease at being able to twist people around to his whim seems to mostly be used to defend Dream’s name.

He’s not blind; he can see that his protege is paying people back for snubs and slights against him.

And, well…he can’t help but be a little endeared. While Tommy had once been the first to sling insults or call names, now he takes petty revenge against anyone who tries it in his presence.

It really is petty, too– nothing too hurtful, nor too dangerous. Most of it is just making the hapless victim feel bad for a little while.

So Dream, himself, doesn’t feel too guilty in enjoying Tommy’s pointed defense of him. What’s the harm in letting him practice his skills like this? Better to use them for an ultimately harmless purpose like this than not be honed at all.

Sometimes it’s important to know how to redirect people to do what you want them to.

That’s a skill that will be important when– if– Tommy decides to become an admin here. Not everyone will be willing to cooperate, even if the goal is for everyone’s benefit.

Dream can feel the faint smile tug at his lips at the thought of his student and how protective he is, even as he readies himself to face George’s displeasure.

Of the Dream Team, George’s anger has always been the longest-lasting. It’s slow to build but when he picks up a grudge, he will happily hold it for a lifetime.

In the past, it’s been easier to relent than fight him on every single matter. But George’s unhappiness won’t change how important Tommy is– how desperately Dream wants his student to, one day, step up at his side and choose to stay.

Just a few months ago, the hope that he could have that seemed impossible. It seemed like the best he would ever get would be to have his friends, most of the time. When they weren’t deciding to leave for a few days or a week or two out of boredom or wanderlust, at least.

He can’t begrudge them for wanting to leave from time to time, but it still stings. The nights when he wakes up to a cold bed and a Post-It note on the fridge feel like a rehearsal, almost. Training him to prepare for this emptiness, prepare for when they finally realize how hopeless he is.

And then what? What could he do, except stare at their backs as they leave for the last time?

Unlike them, he’s trapped here. He can’t leave. Not even for a second. Trying had felt like every single nerve ending on his entire body was doused with acid and then set on fire.

After a while, he stopped trying. What was the point? All that pain was for nothing; he never got any closer to being able to leave this damn gilded cage.

That was when he started inviting others. The runners, the lost, outcasts– all of them looking for somewhere to call home.

But it was like trying to fill a broken bucket. No matter how hard he worked to pour water, it was only ever delaying the inevitable day when the final drop trickled out onto dry sand.

After that, it wouldn’t be long before he died of thirst.

He finds George standing in what used to be Dream’s bedroom. It feels jarring to see the room empty, though that feeling pales in comparison to his friend’s scowl of displeasure. It bodes poorly for how this conversation will go.

“Haven’t you taken this far enough?” “George,” Dream sighs, bringing a hand up to scrub through his hair in frustration. “Don’t you ‘George’ me. I don’t know what this is really all about, but it’s getting old.”

The almost scolding tone makes Dream wince a little. He had hoped by now it was obvious that he’s entirely serious about wanting to teach Tommy, but evidently he’s wrong about that.

“There isn’t a secret motive,” Dream tells him, trying not to get too frustrated. He knows George hasn’t seen the potential Tommy has and dislikes feeling like he’s playing second fiddle. “I don’t know how else to explain that I do want to be his mentor–” “And I don’t get why! What’s so special about him?!”

In a desperate attempt to get George to finally understand, Dream tells him, “He’s– we’re the same! He’s like me, George!” Voice cracking, he repeats more softly, “He’s like me.”

Evidently, this was not the answer his friend had wanted. George argues, “No, he’s a brat who just wants to see the world burn! This world, the one for us!”

The server had been made for them, yes. But by now, it’s become home for more than just their original circle of friends. Dream has invited others into this place, his prison, to give them a place to call home.

Those other people have just as much of a right to be here, because it’s where they’ve put down their roots.

Prime knows Dream isn’t a stranger to not having a real home. Maybe a house, but not a place to call his.

Dream answers, frustrated, “It hasn’t been just for us in a long time, George–” “And why not? Why can’t you just get rid of everyone else?”

The question echoes Tommy’s sentiments a little too much for Dream’s taste. Though, his protege’s point had been more that New L’manberg is an antagonistic faction. Thus, it should be dissolved if not have most of its members outright kicked.

Tubbo excluded, of course.

Tommy’s reasoning had at least been understandable. He had asked, why should they keep people around who keep snapping at their hands? Why should they grit their teeth and bow their head to people who have no respect for their authority?

Most of the rest of the server is fine, at least to Tommy’s eyes. But New L’manberg’s government is just trouble waiting to happen.

As he had to Tommy, Dream tells George, “I’m not getting rid of people who haven’t done anything wrong. This is their home. I gave them the chance to live here because they needed that. I can’t and won’t take that back.”

He won’t budge on this. No matter how many times he gets called naive or stupid for it, the idea of yanking that security away from people is too much for him.

They won’t have anywhere to go.

Tommy, at least, had realized how serious Dream is about that point. He had sighed, said he didn’t agree, but backed down.

His protege does that a lot. Even if he disagrees or thinks it’s pointless, he’ll relent and follow Dream’s will.

Their biggest dispute has been that Dream doesn’t want either of them using their power for trivial reasons; emergencies only. It’s not fair to the rest of the server that they can cheat their way to success, especially when none of them know what Dream and Tommy are truly capable of.

As vehemently as Tommy disagrees about using those tools, despite how much he complains, he still listens.

A stray thought flashes through Dream’s mind. If George were in Tommy’s shoes, he would just use those abilities regardless of what Dream wanted.

It feels mean to think, but…it’s also probably not wrong.

George rolls his eyes so hard that it’s obvious despite his goggles. “You and playing fair. What about what’s fair for me and Sapnap, huh? What’s fair about you choosing Tommy instead of us–”

Dream interrupts, disbelievingly, “What? How is that– we moved away! That’s it!” “And you won’t tell us where it is! Why does it need to be a secret?!” “Because it’s dangerous, George! If you know, then people could try and follow you or try to make you tell them–” “I can protect myself!”

He clearly doesn’t understand at all. Voice raising without it meaning to, Dream snaps, “It’s not about you!”

George’s silence is frosty. Dream knows he should probably apologize for yelling at him, but he’s sick of this– pettiness. He’s tired of caving to George, and frustrated that George won’t accept being told no.

With a loud scoff, George cooly tells him, “I’m glad Sapnap and I mean so much to you. So much for best friends.”

He turns on his heel and stalks out of the room.

Dream sighs, leaning heavily against the wall where his dresser used to be. As much as George’s anger makes his chest ache, this isn’t something he can back down on.

Tommy needs to be somewhere safe. He only has one life, so if the wrong person got to him at the wrong time, he’d be gone forever.

Anyone dying permanently is Dream’s worst nightmare, but if it was Tommy…

Terror threatens to creep into his chest at the idea of losing his protege like that. He can’t risk it, no matter how pissed off everyone else gets at him for his stubbornness.

There’s no point in staying here in an empty room when Tommy is always so eager to be near him.

Being around his protege will help ease the heavy feelings weighing him down.

Yet, Dream returns to the base to find his student missing.

Panic grips his heart. It's a struggle to keep himself composed enough to mentally sink into the code of the server. He has to know what happened.

Doing this feels wrong; he’s using his powers to effectively work around people being honest with him. He’s cheating in a way that none of them have any idea he’s capable of doing.

But he’s scared. What if Tommy is in danger again? What if he’s been taken, what if he’s scared, what if he’s being hurt right now?

It’s too big a risk he can’t afford to take. His protege is too important to worry about fairness or codes of honor.

Tommy’s safety comes first. His single life is more precious than anyone can ever fathom.

He finds when Tommy was last here. Ignoring the way it makes his skin crawl to spy on him like this, he follows Tommy’s path into the nether.

What could he possibly need there? The chests are all more than well stocked and they haven’t been in the base for a full week yet. There’s no reason for him to go back to the main area of the server so soon.

And even if he had– Dream would have seen him. Tommy would have made a point to seek him out.

The answer to what the hell happened, it turns out, is that he’s being friendly with the piglins in the nearby bastion.

The way they're interacting is a bit odd. It's not a simple trade, nor are the small group of piglins at all hostile. Their weapons are all set to the side.

After watching them for a few minutes, Dream realizes his student is trying to learn their language.

Dream can tell that by the way Tommy will fish out an item, listen to whatever is said, and then try to mimic the sound. He doesn’t seem to move on until the piglins stop repeating the word and give nods of approval.

The piglins seem entertained, or are at least willing to tolerate it.

Maybe they intuitively understand how impossibly precious Tommy is. That might be the case; Dream isn’t sure how much mobs are able to understand. The efforts he’s made in the past to communicate have ranged from disappointing to downright catastrophic.

He prefers not to think too hard about the wither incident.

A part of him is pleased that Tommy seems to have so quickly gained the piglin’s affection.

They’re one of the mobs that Dream is most endeared to– among potentially hostile mobs, only piglins and endermen have shown any significant amount of intelligence. Of the two, it’s piglins who are more openly friendly.

Another part of him is jealous. The piglins are part of the server, and therefore sort of a part of him, but…if Tommy is with them, then he’s not with Dream. And that, above anything else, grates against him like sandpaper.

They left the main hub of the server for several reasons, but among them was– at least for Dream –a desire to not have to share his student quite so much.

It feels petty, selfish, even, but…

Is it so bad that he wanted to stop finding out that Tommy is off with Tubbo or talking to people in New L’manburg or just– gone without any warning? Is it so wrong that he wants to be able to actually teach him without having to worry that someone will see more than they should– something that could put everyone Dream cares about at risk?

Sure, maybe it’s a little unhealthy that a part of him wants all of Tommy’s time. But Dream felt the same way about his friends, too! They’re his, and his people needed to be with him. He needs to be able to keep them safe, to know they’re all okay.

They don’t need him to leap to their defense, though. None of them are helpless. So over time, he’s learned to settle for the time he does have with them.

It doesn’t mean anything that the urge was never this loud for any of them. He’s never woken up in a cold sweat and his heart pounding because his mind keeps spinning hellish nightmares of having lost the only person who understands.

More than once, the idea of that made Dream need to go check the Dream Team house and surrounding forest. Just to be safe– just to be sure no dangers had slipped past while he slept.

Because of Dream’s stupid, misdirected anger, Tommy is on his last life. If his protege dies again, he’ll be gone forever.

But…Tommy knows that fear all too well. It’s obvious that he worries about Tubbo in that same way. What others call clingy, Dream recognizes as trying to keep a precious person safe.

So he wouldn’t call Dream lazy for just wanting to be near him, or chide him for being too demanding, or…

Those thoughts make him pull out of the weird mental soup of the code, blinking back to see the oak plank wall in front of him.

It’s already covered with pictures and little mementos of their lives. There are ribbons from tournaments, dried flowers from far off servers, crumpled tickets from a music festival, and some sort of weird keychain plushie thing that looks like it had been designed by a drunken blender.

All of them all mean the same thing; that this is home. It’s a hidden sanctuary where Dream can set aside the mantle of being the admin. It’s a quiet oasis where Tommy can learn the skills he’ll later put to use as the co-admin of this server.

Provided he agrees to stay.

It shouldn’t be something Dream has to keep reminding himself of. Tommy’s agreement isn’t something that can be taken for granted.

Even if it would kill him to be left behind, Dream can’t trap someone here against their will. Even if Tommy has already become one of Dream’s people, even if Tommy sometimes watches him with so much awe that it almost hurts…he can’t just assume that his protege would say yes.

It’s too soon to offer that choice. Tommy can’t possibly understand how monumental of a thing he would be agreeing to, not yet.

For now, though, there’s a different question Dream can ask.

All he has to do is…send a message asking where Tommy is. Tommy wouldn’t get mad. He’ll answer, and he’ll come back.

And then the sharp ache just under Dream’s skin will be soothed away again with the clear, irrefutable proof that his student is safe.

Loneliness starts to creep in as he pulls up his console and sends the message. It takes genuine effort to stop himself from going to watch Tommy’s reaction– and he’s not positive he won’t succumb to the temptation later, regardless of what he chooses to do now.

TommyInnit: learning piglin at bastion

TommyInnit: wasnt sure how long youd be got bored

TommyInnit: back asap

The near-instant reply makes him sag with relief.

Tommy likes to do things, often with other people. But out here there’s basically nothing and no one. It makes perfect sense that he’d turn to one of the most intelligent mobs to fill that void.

It takes less than five minutes for Tommy to come out from the room with the nether portal. He sees whatever Dream’s expression is and tilts his head to the side.

For a long moment, his student studies him with his hands stuffed into the pocket of his bright red hoodie.

Suddenly, he grins. “Missed me that much, huh?”

His tone is teasing but warm as he comes and flops down onto the couch next to him.

Already, it’s made Dream’s earlier distress vanish like smoke.

He huffs softly in amusement as Tommy makes himself comfortable by setting his feet in Dream’s lap. There’s something in Tommy’s eyes that makes Dream suspect it’s a quiet, subtle test of boundaries.

How will he react to this sort of behavior? How far will Dream let him go before he pushes back? How much is it until Dream tells him he’s too much?

All Dream does is raise his eyebrows. “Need a pillow?” Tommy blinks at him, seeming surprised. He asks, unsure, “...For my feet?” “For your head. If you’re going to get comfortable, actually get comfortable.”

His student hums, a small smile forming. “No lessons or anything planned?” “I mean…we can, if you want. I just figured you were getting ready to take a nap.”

The smile grows a little. “N’ if I said I have no plans to move for the rest of the day?” Dream considers it.

It would be nice to take the rest of the day to doze. The peace of mind that comes from knowing that there won’t be an interruption is already doing wonders to make him feel better.

No need to scramble to put his mask back on; no worries about being shaken awake to deal with some minor problem; no unwelcome surprise visits from others when all Dream wants is to rest.

He finally says, “Mm…food is sort of important too, but other than that? Sounds nice.”

Tommy laughs a little, his tone turning even more teasing. “I have golden carrots.” The clear amusement just makes Dream’s own voice match it. “In that case…are you sure you want to take a nap with your shoes on?”

“I’ve been in the fuckin’ nether for hours,” Tommy says incredulously. “Diamond, and I know.” Tommy rolls his eyes and tosses one of the gems directly at his head. Dream easily catches it and tucks it away into his inventory.

His protege tells him, “Big man, you don’t know what you’re asking here. Been told my feet’re a biohazard.” Dream scoffs at him; it can’t be that bad. “I’ve been told my attempts at cooking are a biohazard, and eventually you’ll have to suffer through it.”

There’s a moment where Tommy just stares at him, likely as he makes some sort of judgment call. Then he shrugs, and replies, “Alright then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Dream promptly learns that, despite his body’s best attempts, you can’t actually will yourself to stop having a sense of smell.

He really needs to remember to take Tommy at his word.

Chapter Text

It feels weird that Tommy is gone.

That thought keeps coming back, no matter how busy it gets or how many of his other friends Tubbo is around.

Wherever it is the secret base Tommy and Dream are living is, it’s not close by at all.

He knows this for a fact, because it takes ages for Tommy to get to New L’manburg if they make sudden plans.

The way he misses his best friend is like phantom limb syndrome. He can feel the place where Tommy should be. It almost aches, sometimes, that odd void on his left side.

Tommy is clingy. He denies it, of course, but it’s just how he is. He nudges and shoves and slings his arm over Tubbo’s shoulder all the time. He doesn’t seem to be content unless he’s able to be right next to one of the rare few he considers ‘his people’.

Tubbo never thought about how used to his best friend’s clinginess he is until Pogtopia. But during that awful time, he was in survival mode; there wasn't time to stop and really reflect on that empty space.

Now, though, he can. And he's finding that he doesn't quite know what to do about it.

Sometimes, when he feels more insecure, he thinks about how Tommy must now be clingy with Dream.

He feels– not quite replaced. Outshined, perhaps? Whatever secrets the two of them are keeping have made them thick as thieves in no time at all.

But it's fine. Tubbo has other friends too, and is more or less studying under Quackity.

The man is level-headed, determined, hardworking, passionate about helping New L’manburg become the best it can be.

It's nice to have someone in charge who actually cares. A shame it took two failed presidents to get here, but better late than never.

His commitment to a peaceful administration is impossible not to admire. The only weapons that Quackity wields are his wit and his words.

And, Prime, is it a relief to not live in fear of being called to arms at any moment.

The stomach-dropping helplessness he had felt when Schlatt ordered him to hunt down and kill his best friend isn’t something he wants to have happen again.

Sure, Quackity isn’t perfect. He doesn’t seem to hold a high opinion of Tommy, which is…depressingly common.

Hell– Tubbo isn’t sure there is anyone else who sees Tommy in a positive light. The rest of the server is, at best, neutral towards him.

Aside from Dream, that is.

Because as unfathomable as it seems, Tubbo has on multiple occasions heard Dream defend Tommy against passing jabs or snide comments.

Tubbo had asked Tommy if he knew what caused the radical shift in Dream’s opinion of him. His friend had grinned at him and said yeah, he knew. And that his mentor might not seem like it, but when he cares, he cares.

He refused to elaborate beyond saying that Dream ‘needed’ him, but Tubbo had seen how his chest puffed up with pride. Not bravado– he’s familiar with Tommy faking confidence.

There had been genuine pride that the server’s admin holds him in such high esteem.

So as much as Tubbo is wary of Dream and his goals, he can’t argue that Tommy isn’t happy. Certainly happier than he ever was at Wilbur’s side. Maybe even happier than the rare occasions that Phil or Techno came back for a brief visit.

And he can’t even argue that Dream hasn’t been teaching him. Nobody else seems to have realized it, but Tommy has gotten much, much better at getting those around him to do what he wants.

What he wants seems to largely be getting payback on those who talk shit about Dream. In a way, it’s fascinating to watch Tommy be able to twist those around him to his whim.

Which makes it even more confusing how people seem to keep underestimating and belittling him behind his back.

You’d think that the way anyone who gets on his bad side winds up feeling like shit, or the admin of the server being in his corner, or even just his noticeably increased confidence would be enough to make people hesitant to risk his anger.

If anything, though, it’s almost like they think even less of him than they did before.

It makes no damn sense, but at this point Tubbo is done wasting his breath on trying to get others to realize that Tommy is much more capable than they’ve given him credit for.

He settles for cutting off any smack talk around him and just rolls his eyes if he hears anything in passing.

His fellow cabinet members have been good about that. Occasionally there will be a slip up, but they apologize and change the subject if he calls them out on it. Sometimes they even catch themselves before Tubbo can.

Fundy, for his part, doesn’t like to talk about Tommy. Which Tubbo can understand; if Tommy wasn’t his best friend, he might get sick of hearing about him, too.

Even with that, it can still be a little annoying how people gripe about him so much.

Not to mention that Tommy can be sort of abrasive. Though, he's gotten less so with Dream’s teachings.

Not that he deserves direct credit for that change. Tubbo is almost positive it’s more that Tommy finally feels secure enough that he isn’t compelled to get whatever attention he can however he can.

But it’s fun to hang out with Fundy. The fox hybrid has more than a few redstone tricks up his sleeve that Tubbo has been delighted to learn. And he thinks Fundy enjoys having someone who takes him seriously, for once.

That’s another thing he can empathize with. He’s used to getting overlooked, so he and Fundy share a bit of a depressing kinship with that.

Actually, the entire cabinet and Quackity do, too. All of them are familiar with being second choice in some way.

Quackity might be the least so, but he’s no stranger to being the odd duck out.

…No pun intended.

Though, admittedly, he’s been pretty popular lately. Tubbo suspects that being president has given him a hell of a confidence boost– enough of one to start flirting back when Karl or Sapnap show up.

Sapnap especially seems a little lost. He sometimes takes a breath and starts to turn, like he’s going to tell someone something– only to abruptly realize there’s no one there.

They’ve had a few exchanges about how weird it feels to be suddenly without the people who are usually there.

He’s a nice enough guy, when he’s not trying to kill Tubbo and his friends.

Neither of them are the only ones who feel unexpectedly left alone.

Niki once confessed, as they were baking bread on a weekend, that she still feels hurt that Wilbur wouldn’t let her join Pogtopia.

She’s known him for longer than Tommy has– so shouldn’t he have tried to help her? Shouldn’t he have at least given her a choice, instead of shutting her out with no explanation?

She would have helped him, if their roles had been reversed. She would have done it in a heartbeat.

What could Tubbo have argued, in the face of that sort of admission? It’s not even like he didn’t think it was shitty for Wilbur to have done that.

There had been a lot of very shitty things Wilbur Soot did over the years, a lot of which nobody else was able to or willing to give any notice to.

So he had agreed; Wilbur was a jerk for that. But now Niki has people who know she’s capable of more than she’s gotten credit for.

Her smile, warm and relieved, had brightened Tubbo’s day. It felt nice to be able to encourage someone like that, especially someone who he really does think should be done better by.

It’s still a little startling to realize his circle of friendships has grown exponentially in barely any time at all.

As much as he misses Tommy at times, maybe this will be better for both of them in the long run. Maybe they just need to spend time bolstering the rest of their friendships, instead of relying so strongly on just each other.

Even if that empty space at Tubbo’s side still hurts sometimes, it’s easier to ignore it when he spends time with everyone else.

And if Tommy wants to spend time together, well– they can do that any time. There are still nights they have long com calls where they fall asleep with the line still on.

Their lives are better than ever, and Tubbo can’t imagine how that could change any time soon.

Chapter Text

Tommy always seems starved for praise.

Finding that out had been a massive shock to Dream; his protege’s confidence had, from the outside, seemed larger than life.

Now that his protege lets his guard down around him– trusts him– he sees the truth. He’s painfully, alarmingly, insecure.

When given the slightest encouragement, Tommy throws himself headlong into whatever task had been set before him.

It’s a little disconcerting, actually, how even the hint of approval made him light up and work two, three, ten times harder.

The actual subject rarely matters– and sometimes isn’t even asked for in the slightest.

That happens to be the case when Dream returns to their base after a much longer absence than usual to find the current situation.

The kitchen looks like a warzone, complete with a haze over it that Dream quickly identifies as flour. Measuring cups and spoons– which he didn’t realize they had, actually– eggs, buckets of milk, cocoa beans, sugar, and other hallmarks of baking are strewn everywhere.

There have even been extra blocks placed down, seemingly just to give more space to work with.

And Tommy himself is smeared and dusted with enough flour that his hair looks more white than blonde.

Dream knows for a fact there weren’t any cocoa beans here when he left. That means that Tommy had either used the console to grant himself a frankly terrifying amount of them or had gone out and hunted them down himself.

Given that Tommy really shouldn’t be able to give himself anything without Dream being notified of it, the admin isn’t sure which would be more impressive.

There are what looks like over a dozen batches of noticeably different cookies that apparently hadn’t been deemed good enough.

Despite his aura of fatigue, Tommy visibly perks up when he catches sight of him. Dream suspects that he’s been up for at least a full day working on this.

“Uh,” Dream very cleverly says, as he slowly unbuckles his mask. It’s a habit by now; return to their base, deposit any items he brought back, take off his mask.

“...What…did you do?” The question makes Tommy stare at him, then look at the cookies, and then back to him. “Baked, duh? Still haven’t gotten ‘em right, but they’re getting better–” “No, I can– I can see you made cookies. I just don’t get why.”

Tommy’s head tilts to the side as he states, like it’s obvious, “You said you liked ‘em. Got a little bored, so I figured…” he trails off, wilting a little at the further confusion that gets.

“So– I said that baked cookies were nice,” Dream says slowly, “and…you just decided to make them? A lot of them? On a whim?”

There’s a small and sort of concerning flinch from his student. Tommy’s shoulders curl inwards a little as he mumbles quietly, “Just wanted to…dunno. Do something nice. You don’t have to– if you don't want 'em…”

Oh, Dream thinks, almost visibly able to see the desperation for approval, for praise, to make him happy.

The disquiet that had settled under his skin at the lack of Tommy’s presence vanishes in an instant.

It takes a second too long of silence before he’s able to speak around the lump in his throat.

“Thank you,” he says, unable to help his smile. “You didn’t have to, but…I appreciate it.” He looks a little closer at Tommy as he lights up with joy. The bags under his eyes speak volumes. “Take care of yourself, though. I can go without cookies; I can’t go without my protege.”

If he had lit up before, he’s utterly incandescent at the concern. Dream can once again practically see the hungry, longing thing that lives in Tommy’s heart latch to the implication that he matters.

It’s impossible to keep his smile from growing as he walks over.

He places a hand on his student’s head, ruffling his hair slightly. A small cloud of flour escapes with the motion. “I’ll try a few, then you go get some sleep while I clean up the kitchen. You definitely didn’t get any rest and I do actually need you to be functional. You’re important, so treat yourself like you are.”

Tommy grins and suddenly leans forward to wrap him in a hug. Dream huffs out a little laugh as he hugs him back. “You’re such a sap,” Tommy mutters, to which Dream just hums thoughtfully.

He makes sure that he doesn’t sound even remotely displeased as he teases, “Says the clingy one.” His protege sputters indignantly, “I am– I am not clingy!”

It’s said as though Dream isn’t happy about the way that Tommy leans into any sort of affection like a flower towards the sun.

When there’s no move towards pointing him towards any of the many, many plates of cookies, Dream gently prompts, “Alright. Tell me which ones I should try.”

Even if Dream would really rather just soak up the clinginess, Tommy needs to make progress towards going to bed. His well-being is important– much moreso than the contented peace that this affection gives Dream.

Tommy pulls away with noticeable reluctance, leaving an outline of flour on the lime green hoodie.

He considers the lineup of cookies for a moment, and then grabs three, each from a different plate. He hands them over. “These.”

Dream takes a bite of the first one, and…well, shit. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it might actually rival the cookies he managed to get from Niki via Bad at one point.

“What the fuck,” he says, taking another bite. “This is really good– how did you–” Tommy beams, clearly happy with the praise. “Used to help Niki sometimes. She liked to explain everything– said it helped her, but I’m pretty sure it was more for me n’ Tubbo– n’ I guess some of it stuck.”

“You really shouldn’t go this far for something I didn’t even ask for, but…” Dream trails off as he finishes the cookie, swallows, and takes a bite of the next one.

It’s even better than the last one, which feels like it shouldn’t be possible.

Around the next bite he tells his student, “I take it back. These are better than anything I’ve ever had. You’re irreplaceable on at least three levels now. I don't want to encourage just– throwing a hundred and ten percent at things like this, but…" he trails off again as he finishes the cookie.

It’s sort of tempting to grab another, but he resists the urge. Taking care of Tommy comes first. If Dream gets too distracted, his protege might end up passing out where he stands.

He continues, "These are so good. Now if only I could get you to understand code the same way."

Tommy scoffs softly, but his smile doesn't dim at all. If anything, it gets bigger. "Couldn't sit still, needed something tangible to work on. S’ easier when I can just…grab it. Move it around n’ whatever."

As he eats the third cookie, Dream gives a thoughtful hum. He'll have to keep that in mind, going forward. "Second cookie is the best, first was good but only slightly more than third. What even made you stay up this long, anyway?"

The joy his student has fades away, being replaced with visible unease. "Just…stupid stuff. Thoughts were being too…" he trails off, fidgeting with the sleeves of his flour-streaked red hoodie. "Tried to sleep. Had a, uh…I got up after a while."

Tommy may be willing and often fully able to deceive others, but Dream would bet that he has no real desire to do so now. Or, at least, that his fatigue is weighing heavily on him; those are the only reasons he can think of for how blatant he's being.

"...Nightmares?" At the slight flinch that gets from Tommy, Dream knows he’s guessed right. "Ah. They suck. I get them, too." Tommy blinks in surprise, brow furrowing. "But you're…" "A person with fears and an active imagination."

Dream considers the kitchen for a moment then nods his head towards the couch. "On second thought, we can leave all that for tomorrow. It's been a long few days for both of us, and I know having someone there helps me with the nightmares. Let's just…stay out here tonight."

Tommy seems conflicted, which is enough to tell Dream that he wants to but is worried about some part of it. "...Hoodie is all covered in flour, though–" Dream pulls his own off; it's not like he doesn't wear a shirt underneath, even if most never see it.

He offers the hoodie to Tommy, who just stares at it in confusion. "Uh…?"

"If that's the only reason, then just borrow mine."

He pointedly does not mention that it would barely be any more effort to just go get one of Tommy’s other hoodies.

It seems like that doesn’t occur to Tommy. He hesitates, but pulls his bright red one off. He attempts to remove some of the excess flour liberally coating his person before he takes the lime green one and pulls it on.

Despite being nearly the same height, Tommy's wiry build can’t fill out the hoodie like Dream does. The way the sleeves and hood swallow him up almost gives the impression of a kid playing dress up.

Tommy’s own hoodies are all copied from one that he’d tailored to fit him properly. Though his protege is technically able to sew new ones himself, or at least go and buy them from off-server, neither option had sat well with Dream.

Largely because duplicating clothes is one of the rare things that Dream only feels a little guilty about.

He didn't want to make his friends go out just to bring back a dozen identical pants or hoodies. Clothes aren't really something he could forgo, though, and since they don’t give him any significant advantage over others…he considers it an acceptable use of admin powers.

Not that Tommy hasn't had a hand in tailoring for Dream, too. It hadn’t even been a thought that crossed his mind; Tommy had just told him his hoodies weren’t good enough and that he'd be fixing that glaring issue.

It still makes Dream’s heart light, the idea that Tommy wanted to put effort into something like that.

It's like the cookies; a quiet, subtle way of caring.

Seeing his protege wearing one of Dream’s own hoodies, though? It takes a hell of a lot of effort to try and hide how right it feels.

If someone were to see him right now, then it would be impossible to argue that Tommy isn’t one of Dream’s people.

That thought makes him smile as he goes and sits on the couch. He pulls the footstool over so he can stretch his legs out and says, "I'm not going to force you to sleep out here or anything, but it would help me just as much as it would help you."

It’s not even a lie. A part of him has felt restless and uneasy with being away from his protege for so long.

But it had been important to take care of things with New L’manburg. And George had been right that he has spent an awful lot of time with Tommy– much, much more than he’s spent with his friends.

Dream cares about them, of course. He treasures them more than anything.

It’s just that he’s never, never, been able to have someone who understood the parts of him that Tommy does.

And, likewise, it seems like Tommy seems just as happy to have someone who understands him.

While Dream was gone, every second that ticked by without hearing anything from his protege was a fight against himself to dip into the code to make sure he was doing alright.

But– he didn’t want to destroy Tommy’s trust, nor monitor him. He didn’t want Tommy to be smothered by the brunt of how protective Dream feels, either.

If Tommy needed him, he had told himself, then Tommy would message him first. Otherwise he should let it be– give him some breathing room.

Evidently that was the wrong approach. In the future, he would be sure to check in.

Tommy’s will to resist seems to crumble at being told that it would be helping Dream, too. Only a heartbeat passes before he toes off his shoes and lays down.

He's asleep almost before his head hits the throw pillow.

=======

Dream startles, unsure what it was that woke him up.

Then he hears a thin and almost pained whine from his right.

He looks to see Tommy, still asleep but curled into a ball and gripping the borrowed hoodie he's wearing like it’s a lifeline. His face is twisted in some awful expression that makes Dream’s heart lurch with sympathy.

"Hey," he tries to soothe, leaning over to gently lay a hand on his protege’s arm to wake him up.

He does not expect Tommy to reach up to grab his shirt so he can yank him down. He's now more or less sprawled out between the back of the couch and his student.

Immediately, Tommy latches onto him and Dream can feel him shaking a little.

"Don’t leave." The desperate plea is enough to wash away any lingering ideas about trying to extract himself.

Instead, Dream scoots so he’s more comfortable and starts slowly running his hand through Tommy’s absurdly fluffy hair.

What had started as an impulsive, intrusive thought– that the golden curls can’t possibly be as soft as they looked– has quickly become an odd source of comfort for both of them.

"I can't leave," he gently reminds his student. The combination must be enough to ease whatever fears have sunk their claws into him, because Tommy nearly melts with relief.

Dream can’t really say he hates this clinginess. Tommy is holding onto his shirt like he had been doing with the hoodie. He also keeps lightly pressing his head up into Dream’s hand like a cat. His expression is peaceful now, and…

And a not insignificant part of Dream is happy about this, in spite of how it stemmed from a nightmare.

As minutes tick by and Tommy only relaxes more (though never enough to release his grip on the shirt) Dream can feel himself being lulled back to sleep, too.

An admin terrified of being left behind. Someone with the potential to be an admin who needs something permanent. It feels like they were fated to meet, with how perfectly they eased each other's greatest fears.

Once Tommy has learned enough of the most important facets of code, once he’s more aware of what exactly he’d be agreeing to…? Dream will offer him a place, here, at his side.

Not as mentor and protege, but as equals– both of them admins, both of them with at least one person who will be there no matter what.

Dream isn’t sure how or why he knows how to make that happen, but he does.

The knowledge sits nestled in his heart like a promise.

All it takes is a simple command being into the console. If Tommy accepts it, they'll both be bound here. Not now, but soon.

And then the gilded cage Dream accidentally made for himself could be transformed into a paradise.

Neither of them would ever have to be afraid of being lonely again.

The thought lets him sink into the most restful sleep he’s had in…a very long time. Maybe since before he realized just how trapped he is in this server.

Chapter Text

Tommy slowly blinks open his eyes and sees only a wall of black that he quickly identifies as Dream’s chest. From where he’s curled against it, Tommy can hear the steady beat of his heart and his deep, even breathing.

It takes him a few moments to put the pieces together, but he manages it. He vaguely remembers baking for…he doesn’t actually know for sure how long it had been, just that he dove into the self-appointed task with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

He had already been having issues sleeping before Dream left for two days– a length of time he still believes was far too long. Without his mentor just barely driving the nightmares away by being around…yeah.

Yeah, he regrets nothing about choosing to decipher the secrets of baking instead of gaining a scant few minutes of fitful rest. The remainder of the time would have just been long stretches of trying and largely failing to force himself to fall asleep again.

Easier to remain awake and occupied rather than fighting with his mind to let him sleep in peace.

Even aside from that part, it had been well worth the effort; Dream had called him irreplaceable. The memory of the word makes him almost breathless with pride.

As does the way his mentor had clearly been happy with the results– but had also insisted that he was more valuable than the cookies, no matter how good they were.

The familiar living room is given a warm, serene tint by the lingering traces of slumber and the rhythmic way his mentor is breathing.

It feels different than all the other times that Tommy would be the first one awake.

For those, there had been an uncurrent of fear. If he was too loud, then he might upset someone– usually Wilbur– and might be deprived of their company.

But if he was quiet and still, he could let the familiar sounds of his people comfort him.

After all– if he was awake and they weren’t, he could be confident that none of them would try and leave immediately.

Dream’s sleep, though, makes Tommy feel entirely tranquil instead of having an undercurrent of fear. Maybe it’s the way his mentor has curled over him, one arm draped over his back. Maybe it’s the way that he feels safe– not just from physical threats, but from emotional ones.

Maybe it’s the way he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Dream would die before casting him aside.

It seems like his mentor hadn’t lied; he’s more deeply asleep than he ever has been before. As far as Tommy had been aware, Dream was just an incredibly light sleeper. Even the tiniest of noises would yank him out of his sleep.

Yet Tommy’s presence seems to have silenced his fears enough that he’s entirely relaxed.

Pride twines through his chest at the level of trust and being able to help his mentor in such a concrete way.

His friends, despite being around for longer, clearly haven’t done enough to quiet the spectre of abandonment that looms large over Dream’s head.

And that, too, makes Tommy proud.

It only underscores the way Tommy has usurped their place in Dream’s life. It’s not them he’s spending all his time with; it’s not them he’s sharing a home with; it’s not them who have learned the full extent of what Dream is capable of.

Some people might call it petty that Tommy can’t help but subtly rub that fact in George and Sapnap’s faces.

Nothing too overt, of course. He can’t have Dream getting upset at him over it.Just an offhanded question about what to make for dinner, or bringing up an incident that only he and Dream have context for, or even just leaning just a little bit of his weight against Dream’s side.

They don’t deserve him. They’ve left a deep, festering wound in his mentor’s psyche; a bone-deep terror of being left behind.

When his mentor had nearly begged Tommy for the chance to teach him, Dream had said, “They can leave.” Even back then Tommy had heard the unspoken implication of and I can’t follow.

Fuck, did Tommy ever know what that was like. The people he loves slip through his fingers like sand, like water, like moonlight.

Nothing he loves ever stays.

But that's changing. Soon, he will stand tall and powerful and proud at his mentor’s side.

From the corner of his eye– and admittedly sometimes from the blocks that served as anchors for a lesser version of the same sight that full admins had– he would catch Dream staring at him with a blend of emotions that nobody else sees.

Fear, Tommy had realized after studying and dissecting Dream’s expressions for a while. He’s scared that Tommy will leave and bring his worst nightmares to life.

Mixed with it would always be pride and hope. He’s excited that Tommy is thriving under his teachings. And Dream didn’t just want him around, he wanted him to stay.

As much as Dream has skirted around admitting it, Tommy damn well knows what his hope is. His mentor wants him to step up beside him and become an admin here.

And, well…why wouldn’t Tommy want that, too?

He’ll have a companion who, no matter what happens, can’t leave. He’ll have power– actual power, and the ability to enforce his will on those around him. He’ll have a home, somewhere that can never be stolen or ripped away from him.

Even now, the idea of leaving the server at all threatens to spike his heart rate.

If he did, what if Dream was convinced not to let him back in? What if something happened to him, and Tommy wasn’t able to get back– or even let Dream know that something was wrong?

He’s had a few nightmares about that already. Dream, being trapped here, or– maybe even worse– knowing that Tommy had wanted to come back but couldn’t.

What could possibly be worth that risk?

This is his home. Not just the server, not just the base– but Dream, himself. One of his people, someone that Tommy would fight tooth, nail, claw, and whatever else he would need to so that he stays happy.

And the mod cams let him know for a fact that his mentor is happy.

Sure, maybe it’s a little unethical to spy on Dream without him any the wiser, especially using something he had designed. But, hey– technically, Tommy is just treating him the same as he does everyone else.

…Even if he really isn’t meant to have cams in the homes of the rest of the server, either.

Besides, it’s sort of fun to pick apart Dream’s reactions. It’s even more fun to be able to hide things from him.

Sort of like a game, actually. One he and his monster have gotten surprisingly good at.

Not perfect, not yet. There are still times when Tommy can’t quite manage to hide his own feelings, or that Dream’s mind remains an enigma.

But they’re getting better at a startling rate.

Sort of funny how Dream blindly trusts that he wouldn’t do something like this. Instead of making him feel guilty, all it does is emphasize that he does need to do it.

If Tommy can subtly intervene in situations, it makes it easier on Dream. His mentor can keep his hands clean of all this, while Tommy takes care of the uglier side of things.

Dream can keep believing that people are inherently good or worth trusting or whatever, and Tommy can make sure that nobody threatens that pretty illusion.

Morals are for those who can afford to have them. Caring about being fair is for the winners.

His mentor has won often enough that he has the luxury of being able to turn his nose up at things that bother him.

Not so for Tommy. He’s all too familiar with having to scrape and bow and beg for whatever scraps he can get.

Frankly, the rest of the server is lucky he doesn’t want to upset Dream. If it weren’t for that, Tommy would be getting even for much, much more than just a snide comment here or there.

But, since he does care about letting Dream’s oddly pure-hearted ideals stay pristine, Tommy will grit his teeth and restrain himself.

It would be comically easy to crush them all under his heel. Their private lives are open books to him thanks to the mod cams.

Even aside from the wealth of dirt they’ve provided him about the rest of the server, those cams have already paid dividends.

He’s reasonably sure that most people wouldn’t be able to use surveillance footage of their interactions with others to figure out the subtle nuances of their body language and voice. He’s even more sure they wouldn’t be able to then alter them to suit their own ends.

That careful study has, though, let Tommy know that he sometimes mirrors his mentor’s expressions.

Fear that Dream would be yet another in the long line of those who he had given his loyalty to and who had all but thrown it back in his face. Desperate hope that this time it will be different, that he won’t be discarded. And, most often, joy.

Every time Dream tells him he’s done well, or his mentor puts a hand on his head, or Dream laughs so hard he can barely breathe? It all makes pure happiness shoot through Tommy and his monster alike.

Speaking of which! Tommy abruptly realizes that the thing in his chest has been much less chatty than usual, instead just…purring? Is that purring?

Since when did the thing become a fucking cat?

Freedom-safety-joy-home-mine, it tells him. Tommy raises his internal eyebrows at that and can almost see it roll its eyes back. Dream is freedom, safety, and joy. He's home and ours. Maybe if you hadn’t kept me in a box for years you’d understand what I meant–

Now it’s Tommy’s turn to roll his eyes. Yeah, yeah, he knows.

The thing scoffs at him.

After a moment of silence it murmurs, …We have a feed in here. Pull it up. Tommy blinks at the tone it has, which seems oddly thoughtful. Fuck you, it tells him, clearly offended, I’m full of thoughts! Just pull up the camera and go back to when Dream handed you the hoodie. I want to check something.

He considers his mentor, who still has an arm curled protectively around Tommy’s back and shoulders. It’s like he can’t help himself from trying to keep Tommy safe, even in his sleep.

Nothing has ever been so endearing. The thought that sets off another quiet purr of happiness from the thing in his head.

Dream’s arm does, however, pose a question of if he can open his console without waking him up.

After some slight shifting to test it, all that happens is his mentor gives a quiet sigh and adjusts his arm so Tommy can move more easily.

Well isn't that helpful.

Tommy gently pushes his wrist upwards to open his mod console. As he’s going into the menu, he asks the thing what exactly it thinks it’s going to find. Not sure. Just a hunch.

Ooh, how mysterious. It doesn’t explain anything else, though, just watching as the footage plays back.

It only takes a few moments for Tommy to catch what his admin side had noticed.

Dream had been happy when he put the hoodie on, and he had tried very hard to hide that fact.

It normally wouldn’t have worked, but Tommy had been about three fourths of the way asleep by that point. Most of his manic energy had ebbed away as soon as he realized his mentor had gotten back home. If it hadn’t been for stubbornness and momentum, Tommy probably would have fallen asleep standing up.

He looks at the oversized sleeve of the hoodie he’s actually very content to have on. He considers what he knows.

You can’t see us and argue that we’re not one of his people. Something clicks in Tommy’s mind. He remembers part of an old conversation he had with Sapnap ages ago– before the pet wars, even– when he asked why the hell he always wore his stupid headband thing.

The guy had laughed and told him, “Dream got it for me. I complained about my hair getting in my eyes, and he shoved this at me a few days later. It’s…I dunno, it’s convenient. I forgot to wear this thing once or twice and he was grumpy the entire day. Literally sulked like a kid.”

The memory makes both Tommy and his monster realize something very interesting. Dream likes to see those he cares about wearing things from him. Claiming, the thing hums, sounding thrilled by the idea, like we did with Tubbo and his bandana. Or Wilbur and his bracelet, or Techno and Phil’s hair ribbons.

…Those had been why he learned sewing. He had wanted to give them all something more special than just a bit of ribbon he scraped together enough to buy or that he had found lying around.

Remembered heartbreak makes him feel heavier. He doesn’t want to think about how much it had hurt when his former family stopped wearing his gifts, not right now.

Besides; Tubbo kept his. Tommy had asked about it once, during the Revolution, and Tubbo had grinned and pulled his sleeve up to reveal it. “I never leave home without it, bossman. It reminds me that even when we’re not literally next to each other, we also sort of are. Spiritually.”

It had been impossible to hide how happy that made him, despite Tommy then launching into a rant about how if he was a ghost he’d be doing way more interesting things than haunting Tubbo. After all, all that he would do is cry like a baby that the manliest man ever, TommyInnit, could no longer be clung to.

And sometimes Tommy still catches glimpses of it if he looks at his best friend’s right wrist. It's how he knows that no matter what else happens, Tubbo is and always will be someone he can call his home.

The thing in his chest– Getting sick of the name calling, it huffs at him. What the fuck else is he supposed to call it? They’re not the same person, and calling it Tommy would be weird anyway–

Innit. Yeah, he’s listening and waiting for an answ– No, for me.

It can’t just steal part of his name. That’s– that’s a real wrong’un move! Says the one who locked me in a box for years on end. Oh, come off it, that’s some real pettiness right there. Not your call. And unless you have any better ideas, I’m sticking with Innit.

This is fucking absurd. That’s his name! Only part of it, a part you barely ever use. Everyone just calls you Tommy. Let me have it; stop being so stingy.

Prime damnit. He guesses that…Innit…has a point. He will admit that much, but only reluctantly and with a great deal of protest. I noticed. Make something for Dream.

Tommy blinks several times in surprise. Where had THAT come from? Dream wants to claim us, we’re going to do it right back. I bet he’d be like Tubbo. He knows it matters, so he’d keep it on him. Besides– consider it for a second.

He does, and the idea makes his chest swell with joy and his fingers tingle a little with the urge to get up and sew right now.

…Okay, maybe Innit has a point. Again.

I make a lot of good points, you’re just determined not to notice them, it protests. And close the console. He’s going to wake up soon. How the fuck does it even know that?

Still, Tommy makes a soft swiping motion with his fingers to do so. The faint glow that his eyes have when he uses the console is subtle, but Dream would definitely notice it.

Or, well, normally he would. Dream just grumbles, visibly groggy as he squints his eyes open slightly. He goes to speak, and then seems to do a double take at Tommy.

Tommy just stares back in a silent dare to say anything about the situation. The admin’s sleepiness is wiped away by whatever is going through his head as he hesitantly says, “...Good….morning? I think? What time is it, actually–”

A good question, one that leads Tommy to pull out his com. “...Three in the afternoon is morning, because I say it is. I am, obviously, never wrong, therefore it’s still morning.” There’s a snort of laughter from Dream, who seems perfectly content to not get up.

Ask why he’s being clingy, Innit demands, and wow isn’t it getting all uppity now that it has a name. Still, he does want to know the answer to that, himself.

Tone light, Tommy questions, “Weren’t you on the other side of the couch? Couldn’t stand being even that far from the biggest, coolest man in this or, in fact, any server–” Dream raises his eyebrows and tells him, “You started having a nightmare. I tried to wake you up from it, but instead you yanked me so you could cling to me.”

“Bullshit,” Tommy protests, embarrassment and mild horror creeping up his spine. Dream shrugs a little, a faint quirk of a smile forming.

His hand goes to Tommy’s hair to ruffle it in a way that always feels fond instead of patronizing.

“I mean…I slept better than I have in…” Dream trails off, clearly actually considering the length of time before he just says, “I don’t usually sleep well. So it was mutually beneficial. And unlike Sapnap, you don’t snore like a train right in my ear.”

That makes him feel a bit better, at least.

Tommy sighs dramatically, though, and sits upright. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a slightly disgruntled expression flash across Dream’s face for just a moment.

Well, that just isn’t acceptable. But neither is letting Dream know he’s being comforted.

As he stretches his arms out so they feel less like he slept with a death grip on his mentor’s shirt, he tells him, “You clearly gave me all your shittiest hoodies. This one is way more comfortable.”

He pauses, and then adds, “You’re not getting it back. S’ mine now. If you see me in one you think is a different one…” He trails off, and then grins cheekily. “You’re wrong. On an unrelated note, don’t keep track of the number of hoodies you have.”

Okay, yeah, Dream is struggling to hide how pleased that makes him. “Sure,” he answers, something warm in his tone, “You plan to dye the hoodies you’re definitely not already planning to steal?”

Tommy pretends to consider that when he already knows the answer. “Dye could be what made mine less comfy, I guess. So, nah. It’s a worse color, obviously, but it doesn’t matter as much if it’s just around here. Sure, there’s you, but…”

Dream’s smile grows. “I’m not good enough to wear the better color for? I’m wounded. Just for that? You’re helping clean the kitchen.”

As his mentor gets to his feet and Tommy follows suit, the teen gives an offended noise of protest. “You said I didn’t have to because I’m the one who made the cookies!” “Yeah, when I planned on making you go to sleep because you were up for way too long. Since you’ve slept and you made the mess in the first place–” “And I did it for you! To be nice!”

Dream’s expression softens slightly. “Which I do appreciate. But you also did make the kitchen look like a war zone. I’m helping you clean it, anyway. We can try and figure out how to make code more tactile while we do it.”

The last part catches Tommy off guard enough to stop trailing after Dream towards the kitchen. “Make it– huh?” “You said it was easier to understand things when you can physically move it around.”

…Prime, he says it like it’s the obvious thing to do. But it’s not; Tommy is sure that others would just insist he get better with the existing system.

It only solidifies his determination to keep Dream’s rosy idealism insulated from the harsh truths of the world.

Tommy pauses again, this time in the doorway and– yeah, okay it does look like a flour-based explosion happened here.

With more than a little reluctance, he pulls the lime green hoodie off so it doesn’t get messed up. He catches how his mentor’s shoulders slump when the outwear gets stashed in Tommy’s inventory.

He’s being grumpy about you not wearing his color any more, Innit supplies, delighted by that fact. Not that Tommy isn’t pleased as well, because it just proves to him that it had been right about the whole claiming thing.

The idea still makes him feel a little warm inside, that someone cares enough to want to clearly and visibly declare him to be theirs.

“I only just got the thing– very legally and not at all in a way that could be called stealing– and it’s got enough flour on it already. I’m not messing it up any more,” he says, not bothering to fully hide his amusement that he needs to reassure his mentor over this.

Dream narrows his eyes slightly, turning from where he’s started to rummage in a cabinet for cleaning supplies to study him. “...Are you mocking me? I feel like I’m being mocked.” “Naaaaah. If I was mocking you, it’d be obvious,” Tommy says, his grin growing despite himself.

“...I suspect otherwise, actually. You can be subtle when you want to be. I feel like you might be trying to be subtle now,” Dream tells him. “Likely because I might leave you to clean up this mess by yourself.”

Tommy drops his smile and widens his eyes in an overly saccharine display of innocence. “But Dreaaaaam…I made you cookies. Cookies you said were better than Niki’s. Cookies better than Bad’s muffins. Cookies that make me irreplaceable.”

Prime did that memory give him another jolt of deep satisfaction. His mentor narrows his eyes further. “They’re good cookies, yes. You’re definitely up to something, though.” “I am both always and never up to anything, depending on who is asking and why.”

Tommy has a rag and a bucket deposited in his arms by his mentor. He stares at them as though they’ve offended him– which they have, just by existing in his presence.

Dream has a cheerful smile as he says, “Well, I don’t need to ask because I can see for myself that you’re not doing anything. Help or I’ll find something more tedious to make you do by yourself.”

Tommy’s overly dramatic groan of unhappiness only makes the bastard’s smile grow.

Chapter Text

Tommy gives a startled yelp as he scrambles backwards from the unexpected pocket of lava he had dug into. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing full netherite– lava still hurts like a bitch.

Dream grimaces and reaches around him to block the lava off again. The second he does, he turns back to his protege to look for signs he’s been hurt. “You okay?”

He gets a slightly shaky laugh in return. “Fine, I’m– it’s fine. Just, uh, spooked me a bit. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, yeah?”

Dream knows that Tommy's current armor is the only netherite he’s ever owned. He also knows that any potions the teen makes tend to either explode or turn some gruesome shade of purple– one of the rare few things that he still struggles to wrap his head around.

The panic that had been in his protege's eyes is enough to set Dream’s teeth on edge. That wasn’t an idle fear; that was the sort of wariness only born from personal experience.

It bothers him that Tommy is familiar with the full pain of being burned by lava.

A displeased noise escapes him as he leans slightly towards Tommy. Not much, just enough to make sure he knows that Dream is there for him.

Tommy relaxes a bit, his weight shifting so he’s leaned against his mentor.

“Wish I could just give you permanent fire resistance,” Dream says to himself in a quiet, slightly bitter mumble.

If Dream were better with code, he would reshape the server so that nothing could hurt his protege here.

But instead of dismissing it as the idle expression of displeasure that it was, Tommy brightens. He straightens out of his slouch with a foreboding gleam in his eyes that usually means a headache for Dream.

“We could do that, though,” he points out. He sounds excited, even as Dream grimaces. “I don’t want to just– make something that could be stolen. How would we explain that, if there was an– I don’t know, a bracelet or something, with infinite fire resistance on it?”

He gets a grin in return. “Then don’t make it an item. Just put the potions or whatever on us directly–”

Unbidden, his mind pushes forward the memory of the last time he tried to tinker with a mob’s code.

With a violent shudder, Dream immediately says, “No. We’re not doing that. Too dangerous. You know how I feel about messing with code like that–”

“Not directly, not at first. We test. We test a hell of a lot, and we make sure it’s flawless before we ever even consider giving it to ourselves,” Tommy argues.

“I said no,” Dream repeats, tone firmer. He’s not going down this road. It’s too risky.

Tommy tilts his head to the side, watching him for a long moment. “...Dream,” he starts, any previous levity vanishing like smoke, “What would you do if I died?”

The idea makes his heart stop for several beats. When it starts again, it hammers in fear at the thought of Tommy being gone.

“Tommy, don’t- that--that’s not going to happen. Don’t just-”

Tommy presses, “I’m on one life. One. What happens if there’s an accident, or someone decides they want to get rid of me? You’d be alone.”

Despite talking about his own death, Tommy sounds much more distressed at the idea of leaving him behind.

That’s something Dream notes only distantly, because most of his heart, mind, and even his code are screaming in pain at the idea of Tommy being ripped away from where he belongs.

“But-”

“We can be careful,” Tommy coaxes. “We can test it on pigs, iron out every single flaw long before it gets used on us. But wouldn’t it be safer, smarter, to have something there? Even if it’s never needed, even if everything is fine forever– it’d be a relief that we’d set that up. And it’d be a good way to prove I understand this stuff, yeah?”

It’s several good points. And, if Dream sets aside his personal discomfort at the idea of messing with code on that level…it makes sense.

Playing fair is off the table when it comes to Tommy’s safety. As long as he’s okay, then they can deal with anything else as it comes.

If Tommy died…

No. No, it’s too horrible to even consider. It’s bad enough when he has nightmares about that. They’ve gotten better now that Tommy’s preferred place to sleep is curled up against his chest.

Knowing that he’s right there, safe and softly snoring and alive, is enough that Dream’s mind can’t weaponise his worst fears against him.

He can’t let those nightmares of Tommy being ripped away become real. He can’t face the idea of Tommy’s eyes being dulled by death instead of lit up by a clever quip. He can’t deal with the thought of Tommy going cold, his sunshine aura snuffed out forever. He can’t cope with the threat of losing the only person who really, truly understands him.

That would, itself, be a fate worse than death.

“Okay,” Dream whispers, voice shaking. The walls feel like they’re pressing in and it feels like ice is spreading outwards from his chest.

Instead of being triumphant at his victory,Tommy just seems concerned. He wraps him in a reassuring hug. “Hey, hey; I’m not going anywhere. Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. That’s why I want to be safe; I know you’d be wrecked if anything happened to me. What kind’ve protege would I be, if I let my mentor just fall to pieces ‘cause I did something dumb?”

Dream sinks into the comfort he’s being offered. It’s doing wonders to calm his galloping pulse and racing thoughts.

Tommy is here. Tommy is safe. Tommy will stay safe.

Those words are looped in his head like a mantra until Dream can actually think enough to speak.

“...I need you to swear you’ll take this seriously. Don’t rush ahead, don’t– we have to be careful. You can’t get hurt.”

The word can’t convey the extent of Dream’s dread at the thought of Tommy realizing just how painful it is when code is altered incorrectly.

Tommy scoffs. He sounds a little offended as he says, “I’m not gonna get antsy and risk learning what freaked you out so bad you swore off messing with code like that. Point is to be in less danger, not more. Give me at least a little credit.”

Dream breathes a little easier with that promise.

Tommy finally extracts himself from the hug. His expression is sympathetic, especially as he glances at the place where the lava had been blocked off. “I think that’s about enough excavation for today. Let’s go back n’ eat, yeah?”

As he leaves, Tommy adds over his shoulder, “I’ll even cook, since you’re so terrible at it.”

Dream follows after him. Like he knows Tommy wants, he makes an affronted noise. “Terrible– excuse you, who was the one who messed up a stew so hard it turned black?!” “You!” “No, that was you!”

Tommy turns to walk backwards as they leave the expansion to the storage room they’d been working on. He retorts with a toothy grin, “Yeah, right, right. I messed up the stew.”

Dream opens his mouth, but Tommy continues, “What you ruined was a chowder. Which is worse, ‘cause those are supposed to be light!”

He coughs, because…yeah. Yeah, it had looked pretty awful. It smelled just as bad as it had looked.

Neither of them had been ready to risk food poisoning to test if it had the taste to match. Tommy’s stew, at least, had been relatively edible. Gross, yes, but you could technically stomach it.

“Mhm-hmm, yeah, s’ what I thought,” Tommy says, sounding more than a little smug.

Tommy is sitting crosslegged on the floor of a small pig pen they’ve set up to be able to monitor the effects of the first test of enchantment code. His hands are moving around in a confusing pattern Dream couldn’t hope to follow.

After Tommy admitted it was easier to work with things when he could move them around, he and Dream had worked together to change the way his mod console accepts inputs.

Despite the headache it had been to set up, Dream is thrilled with the results.

Like he had with countless other things, Tommy seems to have had the pieces click into place about how code works.

He’s certainly not perfect with it, not by a long shot. Dream still has to check his work– mostly for everyone’s peace of mind. But Tommy and, evidently, his admin side make for a damn good team. Their ability to make code do what they want it to is growing at a startling rate.

Their understanding of code will no doubt surpass Dream’s within just a few months. And at that point, it’s likely that Tommy will be the one teaching him.

Not that Dream would want their actual dynamic to change. A part of him, perhaps a little selfishly, loves having Tommy rely on him for support and guidance.

Because if Tommy needs him, really needs him, then he won’t be tempted to leave his side.

Which he hasn’t. The only time he’s mentioned being outside the server at all was to lament that Tubbo was being pushy about wanting to take a day to wander one of the many markets in the universal hub.

The concept of Tommy exiting the server in any capacity had made it impossible to speak around the terror that seized Dream’s throat.

And then his protege had flopped down on the couch and leaned his weight into Dream’s side. He had said, “It’s not an option. You’d be wrecked if I went anywhere. Can’t do that to you, yeah?”

The sheer relief of that reassurance, offered so casually and matter of factly, had been even greater than a deep breath of air after a long dive into water.

Not for the first time, he finds himself marveling about how perfect Tommy is. He so desperately wants to be here and to make Dream happy.

And, in turn, Dream wants to make his protege happy. The best ways to do that, he’s found, are just variations on paying attention to him.

Tommy sleeps like the dead if it’s next to him, but the smallest noise will make him jolt awake otherwise.

Given any amount of choice, he puts himself on Dream’s left side– to the point where now it feels wrong if he isn’t there.

Messing with his hair, getting food, making him stop and take a break when he’s wrapped up in something; anything that proves that he’s thinking about Tommy is repaid with a smile that puts the sun to shame from how bright it is.

Breaking him out of his thoughts, Tommy makes a noise of displeasure. “Dream, console is being weird. Won’t let me edit the pig.”

…That shouldn’t be possible. Tommy is a mod, so he should be able to access nearly everything that Dream can. Hell, even most of the limitations and alerts that Dream originally had set up are gone by now.

If Tommy decided to summon a hundred stacks of netherite blocks, then at this point Dream would trust he had a damn good reason for doing so.

Dream navigates away from his own work and pulls up the pig’s code. He quickly finds a section he can safely make a minor edit in.

The pig turns bright purple with no issues.

That means it’s not an issue with the pig, but instead something on Tommy’s end.

But that could be any number of things. The best place to start is to narrow down the extent of what’s not working. Dream asks, “Can you alter blocks?”

Tommy’s hands move again. One of the blackstone tiles on the floor changes to oak planks.

So his console is working just fine.

His protege’s eyes narrow suddenly. “What do you–” He stops, expression incredulous as he listens to something– likely his admin side conveying something.

Dream waits one moment, two, three. Then he asks, “...Does your admin side have any ideas?”

Tommy sighs. “It’s got a theory that I can’t mess with living entities as a mod. Mobs, players, animals, that type of thing. I don’t understand how it– no, no.” He holds a finger up with one hand, and palms a diamond in the other.

He tosses it to Dream and continues, “Shut the fuck up. You’re the one who knows the most! Why don’t you know for sure?!”

The knee jerk response to tell him that he owes a diamond is curbed by the slightly cool gem in his hand.

…His protege prepaid for a curse.

Huh.

That’s probably a sign he’s past the point of needing the swear jar.

That’s something to unpack later, though. Right now, the problem of Tommy being unable to alter mobs’ code has thrown a massive wrench in their plans.

If that is the issue– that mods flat out can’t do that– then there’s not much they would be able to do to fix it.

Well…aside from just making Tommy an admin.

But, as much as it terrifies him to think about Tommy leaving, he doesn’t want to cut off that option just yet.

Without a safety net in place, if a dire situation rose up then Tommy could be hurt or killed.

And then what?

Dream would lose everything, just to appease his own, selfish, increasingly loud fears.

Tommy’s safety is more important than Dream bowing to his own icy terror of abandonment.

If it meant Tommy could escape…?

Well. That’s the only thing that matters. Dream can’t– won’t– give in and trap him here unless he’s ready.

He ignores the whisper in the back of his mind that Tommy is, in some ways, even more competent than Dream himself is. What else could possibly need to learn?

Isn’t it fine, to give Tommy the power he so clearly desires? Wouldn’t it be exactly what they both want; to stand side by side, clever protege and beloved mentor?

Fuck, it’s so tempting. It would be the easiest solution. Tommy would eagerly jump on the chance, and Dream would finally be secure in the knowledge that his protege will be there forever–

But Dream can’t do it. He can’t risk Tommy growing to hate him, resenting that Dream has trapped him in this gilded cage.

Even if he couldn’t truly leave, Dream could be cut off from Tommy’s company.

And then he would become a rotting flower, withering away without the sun in his sky.

Tommy waves a hand in front of his face, making Dream blink a few times. “The hell are you thinking about? You look like you took a bite of one of Ponk’s lemons.”

The obvious, sincere concern settles the matter entirely.

Dream can’t offer to make him an admin yet. Not until he’s sure that Tommy is ready for it– not just as far as his skill, but emotionally and mentally.

It has to be a choice neither of them would have any regrets about.

“...Just worried that this is…” He sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair. It’s edging into being longer than he likes; he makes a mental note to trim it at some point soon. “Maybe you not being able to change mobs is a sign.”

Tommy makes a displeased noise, scooting over so that he can lean his weight into Dream’s side.

It does wonders to soothe some of the fear that’s eating away at him.

“No, it just means we have to get creative with it. And besides– you can look things over like this. Make sure I’m doing it right.” There’s a pause, and Dream can almost feel Tommy’s eyeroll. “We’re doing it right.”

That…is a fair point.

It had been one of the reasons Dream was so reluctant to do this at all. He didn’t want Tommy rushing past proper testing and stumbling headfirst into the sort of pain Dream can barely even fathom.

If Tommy can’t do that…then isn’t this better, in the long run?

“...Yeah. It’s– it’ll be more complicated, but…maybe it is for the best,” Dream finally agrees.

His protege smiles with enough warmth to put the sun to shame.

George sends a message saying that they need to talk in person, alone.

Despite the feeling of dread sitting like lead in his chest for the entire trip, Dream goes to what used to be the Dream Team house.

Even from the outside, the place feels colder and emptier than he remembers.

George is waiting for him on the porch. He stands tall at the top of the stairs, while Dream looks up at him from the bottom.

“This has gone on long enough,” one of his best friends tells him.

Dream sighs, reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes under the mask. “George–”

“No. None of that.”

Something in his voice makes Dream tense. The weight in his chest gets heavier.

“You clearly haven’t been listening to me. So, here’s your come-to-Prime moment.” With deliberate movements, George takes off the goggles.

It doesn’t make him look any less cold.

“Tommy or me. Ban him for good, or I’m leaving.”

Dream stares at him, heart hammering wildly.

"You can't be serious." He tries to say it like obviously he must be misunderstanding. Because he must be. George’s demand is unthinkable.

His friend’s mismatched eyes narrow. The goggles are held in his hand instead of being on his face like they almost always have been– like they should be.

They had been a gift picked up years ago, a physical way to show how precious George is to him. The same is true of Sapnap and his headband.

"You're choosing Tommy over me," George accuses. He starts to pull out his com.

Dream knows that if he doesn’t fight for him, one of his best friends is going to leave.

So he lunges forward and grabs George's wrist. "Why is it a choice? Why are you trying to– I don't understand!"

George scoffs. "You're the one who ran off first. You won’t even tell me where you are, and you’re never around–" “I can’t have you and Sapnap know but not let Tubbo know, that’s not fair to Tommy–”

“That’s my point,” George argues. “You care about him more than me.”

Dream feels something in his chest crack as George yanks his arm away.

“Please,” Dream begs, softly, desperately.

Please don’t go. Please don’t abandon me here, don’t make my nightmares real–

“Let me know when you figure out what you really want,” George tells him.

“Wait- George! Please, we can still-”

But he’s already gone.

All that’s left are the goggles.

=========

Thunder crashes above his head. Icy rain falls in sheets, but he’s too numb for the cold to register.

Tommy finds him. Dream doesn’t know how long it's been, but he’s been collapsed on the ground ever since George exited this fucking prison.

The goggles are clutched in his hands like a rosary. Maybe if he prays on them enough, the part of his heart that walked away will come back where it belongs.

It takes his student only a few moments to put the pieces together.

The delicate, careful way Tommy pulls him into a hug nearly burns. "It's okay," he soothes, his hand moving through Dream’s hair. "Doesn't feel like it right now, but…it'll be okay."

He wonders when Tommy became such a good liar.

In a mirror to the sky, his tears start falling. "He left," he whispers brokenly into his protege's shoulder. His worst fears have come true, and it’s only a matter of time until everyone else follows suit. "He left, and–"

And then who else will follow? Bad, Sapnap, even Tommy himself, once he realizes how utterly pathetic Dream is.

"Well," Tommy starts, holding onto him tighter, "Then he's dumb."

The word makes him frown. George isn't an idiot. Before he can point that out, Tommy speaks again. "Anyone who'd walk away from you is just fuckin'-- they don't get it."

He moves so that he’s cupping Dream’s face with both hands. The expression he has is sympathetic and painfully warm. "If he won't accept you…doesn't matter. I will. I won’t leave. I'll be here, at your side, forever."

The solemn oath and utter sincerity in Tommy’s eyes eases a tiny bit of the horrible knot of pain and grief that's formed in his chest.

Tommy– he wants to be here. Tommy needs him. More than anything in the world, his protege wants to lock himself inside this horrible golden cage.

He still doesn't really understand why. But he still gives a shaky, sobbed sigh of relief and sinks gratefully into the comfort his protege, his heart, his Tommy is offering.

"I chose you," he confesses. Tommy’s hand pauses for just a moment before going back to that soothing rhythm. "For…?"

Dream can’t bring himself to look at his student’s face right now. That he considered it for even a moment might be the last straw. He doesn’t want to see betrayal shine in those familiar, bright blue eyes. "He– he told me that if I didn't– it was him or you.” His laugh is weak and more like a sob. “I…how could I turn my back on you?"

There’s a quiet gasp. "...Over your…" The whisper is almost drowned out by the icy rain.

Instead of being discarded like he feared, he’s hugged even more fiercely. "I know it hurts. But…but I won't– I'll always– fuck. Fuck, you're one of my people. I'd die for you. I'd kill for you," Tommy tells him, deathly serious.

In a way, it's sort of funny how that's the thing Tommy jumps to to convey his loyalty. In another way, it's desperately needed relief to have confirmation that he was right to choose Tommy.

He wishes he didn't have to choose at all. The loss of one of his oldest, dearest friends has left a bloody hole in his chest.

…But Tommy is here. Tommy wouldn't leave him. He's carefully tending to that jagged wound, each promise like a stitch to close it back up.

It's agonizing, but it's working.

Tommy tells him, "Alright, big man, I'm teleporting us back home. You can yell at me for using that power later– you can't afford to get sick or hypothermic or whatever."

Dream can’t even start to protest it before he finds himself on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Tommy leaves his side just long enough to start a fire and grab some blankets and pillows from the couch.

His protege gestures at him. "Alright, hoodie off. It's soaked." Dream can’t muster the energy to argue; he just slowly pulls the saturated garment over his head.

When he tosses it somewhere off to the side, Tommy all but shoves his own hoodie at him. "You need to stay warm," he says, but Dream is too busy staring at it.

It's bright red. Tommy’s color.

Not quite a claim like the goggles, but…it's not that far off, either.

He carefully, almost reverently, takes it and pulls it on.

It feels like a hug. It feels like a promise.

That painful tangle in his chest loosens further, especially as Tommy sets up a haphazard pallet next to the fireplace. When he flops down, he opens his arms and smiles so brightly it would put the sun to shame.

"Rescuing you made me tired. I'm not dealing with nightmares."

The insistence that this is really for his benefit makes Dream give a tiny, tired huff of not-quite amusement.

He curls up at his student’s side. Having that solid confirmation that Tommy is here soothes the grief that threatens to swallow him whole.

It’s still there, raw and bloody. But it’s just a tiny bit less cataclysmic, with his protege’s steady heartbeat in his ear.

Exhaustion finally catches up and drags him under in mere moments.

Chapter Text

The aftermath of…of what had happened, had seen Sapnap try to get Dream to meet up several times.

Each time, he would find a way to avoid it.

Because Sapnap, like George, will eventually leave.

If it's inevitable, then the only way Dream can protect himself is to be the first to pull back. If he’s the one who cuts that tie, then at least he has some tiny shred of agency in it.

It helps that Tommy has been reluctant to leave his side for more than an hour or two at a time.

More often, though, he stays at Dream’s left side. Whatever he does– reading, code work, sewing– he does it where Dream can be reassured that he’s there.

He also pushes Dream to eat, to sleep, to do something even remotely productive.

Even asleep, his protege is hard at work to ease the selfish fears that eat Dream alive. He’s stopped falling asleep anywhere that isn't right next to Dream.

And, of course, sleeping during the brief periods that Tommy is elsewhere is impossible.

If Dream's mind starts to spin a nightmare out of his worst fears, the unmistakable fact that Tommy is next to him breaks him free.

Most often, the way it happens is that Tommy appears at Dream’s side. He wears one of Dream’s lime hoodies, his smile is as radiant as the sun, and he repeats the promise he had made.

He'll be here. He wants to be here. He wants to lock himself inside this server forever. Not even the gods could stop him from fighting to stay at Dream’s side as his protege, his equal, his heart, his Tommy.

And every time, it dissolves the nightmare and lets him dream in peace.

He told Tommy about the way he’s become the guardian of Dream’s sleep. He had seemed proud, his expression lighting up like Dream had given him a precious gift.

Maybe he had. Maybe Tommy’s own insecurities were soothed by knowing that he’s become the cornerstone of Dream’s sanity.

Even now, just being able to hear Tommy rummaging around in the kitchen is soothing.

It's only if he goes a few hours without some sort of proof that Tommy is near that Dream starts unraveling at the seams.

He's not going to be more selfish than he already is. As much as he likes Tommy’s fretting, he can’t just demand he stay at his side 24/7.

Sure, something ugly and greedy creeps up in the back of his mind every time Tommy laughs while on his console or com.

He’s had a few quiet calls with Tubbo, and each one requires Dream to use a frightening amount of willpower to stop himself from trying to refocus Tommy’s attention back on him.

Tubbo, as much as Dream hates to admit it, is important to Tommy.

...Though, Tommy spends so much time with Dream already…maybe he’s been slowly fraying that bond.

It might not even be a conscious choice– his protege could be unknowingly pulling away from Tubbo. Slowly, he could be moving to the only person who can understand him.

The only person who sees him, really sees him, for who and what he is. Strong, clever, loyal, and precious.

The idea should be less appealing than it is. It’s not right to want Tommy to discard everything else.

Dream knows that. He does.

…And yet, the thought still holds a terrifying amount of allure.

There’s no reason to give voice to that selfish impulse. Tommy shouldn’t be forced to bear any more of the burden of Dream’s heartbreak than he already does.

Instead, Dream finds something else to focus on.

Like the fact that he’s well overdue for a haircut.

He lifts a small lock of his hair, frowning at it. "...It’s getting long," he murmurs to himself.

A questioning noise makes him look up to see Tommy peering around the partial wall of the kitchen, one of the remaining cookies held in his teeth.

They’ve been eating them for weeks on end and it’s still barely made a dent in the pile.

But Tommy made them for him, so Dream will gladly eat them.

Sure, he might feel nauseated at the mere suggestion of anything else with chocolate, but nobody and nothing can make him discourage any form of Tommy’s affection.

Especially not now.

Dream clarifies, "My hair. It's getting long, I'll need to cut it soon."

Rather than take the extra moment to walk around, Tommy vaults over the back of the couch. He lands heavily next to Dream and takes a bite of his cookie. Around that bite, he says, "Nah. Leave it."

When no further comment comes, Dream points out, "...But it's getting in the way." He’s not really fond of how it keeps falling in his face.

Tommy rolls his eyes and swallows. "Then tie it back, idiot." "With what?"

It occurs to Dream that the smug, triumphant grin Tommy has probably means he just did or said exactly whatever Tommy wanted him to.

After shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth and dusting his hands free of crumbs, Tommy withdraws something from his inventory with a dramatic flourish.

It’s a ribbon, bright red and with what Dream mistakes on first glance to be leaves.

They aren't. A closer look shows that they're tiny, embroidered, lime green smiles.

Dream freezes, and suspects he stops breathing for a moment or two. "Is– do you–"

He can barely speak around the overwhelming feeling of rightness that the strip of cloth gives him.

He’s desperate to grab it like the priceless treasure it is, but he has to be sure. What if he doesn’t know? What if he’s just–

"Yeah, I know. You're mine." Tommy pauses, rolls his eyes, and amends, "Ours. You're ours. Before you ask where I got it…I didn't. I made it. Ribbon is a pain to make from scratch."

Oh.

Tommy made every stitch of this ribbon to openly, publicly declare that Dream is one of his people.

He spent what must have been hours on this piece of ribbon. Hours spent making something that has instantly become the single most valuable thing Dream owns.

The idea of having someone give him a claim is almost more than he can process. The idea of Tommy, the only one who actually knows what it means, doing so is…

It’s impossible; a miracle he never could have dared to imagine.

That single strip of bright red ribbon holds the weight of an oath, one that he can’t fathom Tommy would ever break. His (his, his) protege is loyal, and more importantly, he is telling him in a way that goes beyond mere words that Dream has earned that loyalty.

Tommy’s loyalty is something unfathomably precious. Yes, of course Dream had known he cares– how could he not; Tommy’s care is so obvious when you know how to look for it– but caring…caring is different from this.

Words fail him, because they’re all too petty to explain exactly how much that strip of ribbon actually means to him.

It solidifies an idea that has been quietly growing for the last few months.

Tommy is one of his people, too. Not just that– he’s the only person who can be trusted not to shatter Dream’s heart and hopes.

Nothing and no one is more important. Nobody could come close to meaning as much as his protege does.

And how could they? They all dismiss the quiet ways Dream reaches for them, begs for their time and attention and affection. Clingy, lazy, needy; all ways to tell him that they have more important things to do than be around him.

They’ve made him learn to live with the longing, aching need for companionship that paces restlessly under his skin.

But Tommy knows. He knows, and understands, and is there in a way nobody else has been. With just a glance, he can tell how loud Dream’s loneliness is, and is able to make it vanish like smoke.

He’s perfect.

Tommy suddenly grabs Dream’s shoulders to make him face away. "Alright, dumbass, since your brain stopped working, I'll put it in your hair for you." He sounds amused despite the insult.

Dream almost starts to protest– he wants to be able to see the ribbon, so he can remind himself that it's real, that he didn’t make it all up– but then Tommy’s hands start going through his hair.

It feels different from the careful carding motion he does just to give comfort; this is a series of steady, confident movements that Dream can’t even begin to follow.

Whatever it is Tommy is doing is complicated. So complicated that he doesn’t even keep up the usual stream of chatter that he normally would.

But every second makes Dream relax further and further. Having his protege so single-mindedly focused on him and him alone acts like a salve to heal the wounds left on his heart.

A part of him wants this to last forever.

It can’t, of course. Even the most complicated hairstyle can only have so many steps. By the time it’s done, Dream has almost fallen asleep from the sheer overload of warm, fuzzy joy he feels.

Once Tommy realizes just how drowsy he’s become, he laughs a little. It’s warm and full of affection, a ray of sunlight that could break through even the worst of storms.

Thus, Dream decides the most ideal course of action is to twist around, grab ahold of him, and flop down. It’s half to take a nap and half so that he can indulge his sudden urge to be clingy.

Sure, the hairstyle might suffer for it. But even if it does, Dream can just ask his protege to fix it.

"Thank you," he says, tucking Tommy’s head under his chin.

Those words are nowhere near enough to convey Dream’s fathomless awe that he’s been chosen like this.

It wasn’t expected– hell, even with Tommy telling him he’d stay, Dream never imagined he would be given something so precious.

And even if he had, he never would have imagined that it would be specially made for him.

He can’t leave a single shred of doubt that he returns that sentiment. He vows, "I'll make something for you. You’re mine, too."

Despite not being able to see Tommy’s face, he can tell by the way he perks up that his protege is both surprised and thrilled by the promise. "Good."

He's very nearly dozed off entirely when he hears a quiet, mostly muffled mumble. "...Don’t be like them."

Even without seeing his face, Dream can hear the heartbreak in that plea.

Dream wraps his arm a little tighter around his student like he can protect him from the past if he tries hard enough.

Tommy wordlessly curls into that offered comfort.

How could anyone turn their back on him? How could they hurt someone who is so desperately, fiercely loyal to those he cares about?

They were obviously idiots.

Idiots who, in their neglect, have accidentally handed Dream the most precious thing imaginable.

No words can ever hope to fully encompass how important Tommy has become. Nothing, nothing, is more vital to him than this person.

And no price would be too high to keep him where he belongs– at Dream’s side, head held high and their world at his fingertips.

And it will be theirs.

Tommy has chosen here, and more importantly, chosen Dream.

That fact gives him a sense of peace he hasn't had for a long, long time.

Even after Tommy became his protege, the quiet fear that he wouldn’t choose to stay gnawed at Dream. An insistent, nipping fear at his ankles; what if it’s all for nothing, what if Tommy walks away, what if Dream’s attachment to him only ends in pain?

It's gone now, erased by how silly he had been to doubt Tommy’s choice could ever be anything different.

As he moves a hand through Tommy’s hair, he can’t help but smile. His heart swells with happiness at the knowledge that he is Tommy’s, just like Tommy is Dream’s.

It feels like every single line of code in his entire being buzzes with giddy, delirious joy.

Tommy sighs contentedly and relaxes further, evidently seeing no reason not to take a nap.

Their plans for the rest of the day can wait. Reveling in this moment is more important.

=================

Told you, Innit crows as they catch Dream reaching up to lightly touch the ribbon securely woven into his hair for the thousandth time.

It’s only been a few hours since they woke up, but Dream can’t seem to resist checking that it’s really there.

Every time he feels that he hadn’t imagined it, his mentor (and friend, and family, and home) breaks into a wide grin.

Yeah, yeah, it was right about Dream understanding the intent. Don't be like that. Look at him! It's not that Tommy is annoyed that Dream is so happy– if anything it makes him happy, too– he's annoyed that the mouthy, fractured admin-self in his head is being a smug bastard about being right.

Shut up and let me enjoy this, it snaps at him. Dream is the first person I've chosen. The fuck did that mean? Is Tubbo not good enough?

Of course I care about him, he's ours. But you chose Tubbo. Not me. I wasn’t even repressed at that point; there was no way to reject him when I hadn't even started to exist. But Dream? Him, I had an actual choice. I could have said no.

…Oh. That's…depressing. Stunning observation. Any more to share?

"Tommy?" He blinks, abruptly realizing that he was probably staring off into the middle distance. Dream is watching him, brow furrowed in concern. "Everything okay?"

That immediate worry makes Tommy smile despite himself. The fierce surge of Innit's affection washes over him to merge with Tommy’s own fondness, echoing in a way that makes it all the more intense.

"Yeah. Innit is just being depressing." Don’t tell him that! "And it’s being smug about being right."

Dream just seems lost. His head tilts to the side the same way a confused puppy would– like the world might make a little more sense if viewed at an angle. "...Innit?"

Did we not tell him I have a name now? Shit, that might have slipped through the cracks.

Tommy does feel bad about that. As annoyed as he might have been about Innit taking part of his name when it happened, it still made that choice. It deserves to be known by its chosen moniker.

"...We may have forgotten to mention that my admin side chose a name. Or, well, stole it and then guilt tripped me into letting it keep it. It chose Innit, if that wasn’t clear.”

Outrage from said fragment makes Tommy’s smile turn into a grin. Fuck you! Stop making me look bad! Tommy tells it, amused, "Stop making it so easy to make you look bad, then."

There’s a frustrated, strangled scream and Tommy gets the impression that Innit is pointedly flipping him off.

His mentor gives a little huff of laughter, even if he still seems a bit confused. "Still weird to see you talk to someone I can’t hear. But I'm glad you chose a name. It’s nice to officially meet you, Innit. I'm happy you're here."

If the previous emotions he’s felt from Innit were waves or flashes, the sheer depth of the elation and adoration that floods into him could better be compared to being teleported bedrock deep in the middle of the ocean.

Dream seems worried again. He leans forward, like he can’t help himself. "Hey, what– did I say something wrong?"

Tommy realizes that he’s started crying.

"No," he says, laughing a little. "No, it's– we're both happy. Really, really happy. It, uh– it's just a lot. Its feelings aren’t usually so much."

I exist because of him. He opened the box and made you– made you connect with me. I owe him everything. Freedom. Safety. Joy. Home.

Dream pulls him into a hug, moving a hand through Tommy’s hair in comfort. "You make me happy, too. Both of you."

What would we be, without you? The question is soft and full of awe because…Innit and Tommy both already know the answer to that.

Less. They would be less. Less powerful, less capable, less happy– everything about them would be diminished for not being at Dream’s side.

For the first time in his life, Tommy realizes he is completely draped in resplendent moonbeams. He can almost picture himself dotted with stars, too; every single speck of light in the night sky has descended on him and Innit.

It's intoxicating.

We’ve waited for so long, the splinter of himself says reverently, But now we’re where we always wanted to be. We’re home.

Tommy closes his eyes and sinks into the affection his mentor is giving him. "You're home," he finds himself saying quietly. "We're finally home."

And they’re never leaving again.

Dream curses at the mess of lime green cord in his hands. “How the hell do you even do this,” he mutters, throwing his tenth attempt aside and grabbing the spool to cut more of it off.

His skills aren’t exactly conducive to making things that look nice. He’s lasted this long on a combination of survival skills and the ability to duplicate things with the admin console.

Knots are something he can do fairly well, though. That’s why he thought he might be able to make a macrame bracelet.

He even had a few spools of cord he could use for it! He isn’t positive when and why he got them– or asked for them to be gotten– but surely, the fact that he had something he could use was a sign.

Yeah, no. He’s been at this for ages, and he’s no closer to making something good enough for Tommy.

There won’t be a second chance to make something better later on. Whatever he makes, Tommy won’t let him replace it. He’s too sentimental for that.

Sure, he hides it well from most people, but Dream knows his protege. No matter how useless or seemingly insignificant, Tommy gets very attached to items he sees as meaningful.

Discs, an ugly plush keychain, photos, the first hoodie Dream gave to him– all of them are given places of reverence and treated like priceless treasures.

So this bracelet has to be perfect. It has to be worthy of him, worthy of their bond, and worthy of being the answer to the precious ribbon Dream had been bestowed.

Tommy weaves it into his hair every morning. It’s already become a sacred ritual, something that Dream can’t imagine starting his day without.

That quiet emphasis of how much he means to his protege has done wonders for Dream’s confidence. He can spent longer away from Tommy without the yawning terror of abandonment makes him go back.

Which is what he’s been doing. This can’t be put off– the longer it takes the more he worries that Tommy might think he doesn’t plan on giving him a claim in return.

But it feels like Dream is even further away from getting this right than he was when he started. All of them turn out wrong, and they start going wrong earlier and earlier.

Frustration bubbles over as Dream quickly finds himself ruining the latest attempt too.

It’s stupid that he can’t figure this out! He can twist the fabric of reality itself to his bidding, and yet he’s being bested by a couple of strands of cord.

A throat being cleared startles him so badly he nearly topples off his bed.

His head snaps over to see Tommy, who stands in the doorway. The protege who this entire endeavor is meant to be for is looking at the pile of failures with obvious curiosity.

Dismayed, Dream asks, “How did you sneak– I set an alarm!” Tommy scoffs a little and answers, “I turned it off.”

Pride flares in Dream’s chest along with a bit of shame that Tommy can see his pitiful efforts thus far. They seem almost like clumsy mockeries of Tommy’s dedication and skill. “You didn’t think I set it for a reason?”

While it can’t possibly hold a candle to the precious ribbon in Dream’s hair, it still needs to be as perfect as Dream can make it.

His protege deserves nothing less.

Tommy laughs, walking over so that he can flop down on his back next to the rejects. “It was pretty obvious you’ve been working on a claim for me. Would’ve left it alone, but you’ve been doing this for days. I was bored and lonely.”

He pauses, eyes flicking to the side for just a moment. A sigh escapes. “Or, well– as lonely as someone can get with another person in their head.”

Tommy picks up one of the worst ones, holding it up to the light so he can examine it.

He squints at Dream, who suddenly feels a little judged. “...You know it’s easier when you use more than one color, right? Especially when you’re trying something new like this.”

Dream asks, incredulously, “...Are you critiquing my work?” “Considering you’ll just keep running at this wall without any progress otherwise? Yes. Yes I am. And less critique than pointing out you’re making it harder than it needs to be. You keep messing up because you can’t keep track of the pattern. Eventually it merges into one big blob of lime green.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

It makes perfect sense, but he’s very curious how Tommy realized that so easily. “...How can you tell?” Tommy rolls his eyes and twists around so he’s on his stomach instead of his back.

He lays the attempt down and points at different sections of it. “You do fine at first, then eventually get confused and repeat or skip a step. That ruins it. By the time you realize you went wrong somewhere, it’s too late; you know you won’t be able to tell where that screwup is. It’s easier to start again than undo it.”

Is it a little odd that the easy dissection of why he keeps failing makes Dream smile? Probably. But it’s one more example on the long, long list of reasons why Dream is so glad that out of anyone with the potential to be an admin, it’s Tommy.

He’s smart, almost terrifyingly so. There are places where their knowledge overlaps, but their perspectives are different enough that Dream finds himself learning from Tommy just as much as the other way around.

Tommy continues, chidingly, “Doesn’t help that, again, you’ve been working on this all day. You had two eggs and a piece of toast when you got up at dawn. It’s seven at night. You’ve been staring at this for too long and you’re running on empty. Set it down, come eat, and then pick it up tomorrow. You’ll be less likely to just set it all on fire and beat your head against a wall after leaving it for the night.”

“But…” Dream’s eyes go back to the spool of cord. Now that he has a way to move forward, the urge to start again rises up.

It grates against him that it’s already taken so long, full days spent with the intricately made ribbon that gets woven into his hair each morning but no equivalent for Tommy.

He wants to be able to see the proof that Tommy is his, that physical signifier that declares that he’s the most important person in Dream’s world.

Tommy narrows his eyes for a moment.

Then he very deliberately changes his expression, his eyes crinkling a little and a wide smile forming.

It’s paired with his voice shifting into a cheerfully threatening tone that Dream does actually find a bit intimidating. “That’s not a request. I cooked, so you’re going to eat some Prime-damned food and you’re going to leave this alone until the morning. And don’t think I’ll let you scuttle back here after eating. You’re going to either do something else or go to sleep. Whichever one you choose, Innit and I will be there to stop you from getting back to this.”

After a moment of holding that stare, his student sits up again. The false happiness slides off like a mask.

The look left in its wake is a troubled one.

He says, sounding a little wounded, “It’s one thing when one or both of us are doing stuff away from here. You being…here but not, is…” he frowns, his shoulders curling inwards just a little. “It sucks. It’s lonely.”

The pairing of the uncompromising demand and the display of hurt is more than enough to convince Dream to do exactly what his protege wants.

He pulls his protege into a hug, which Tommy immediately burrows into. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Dream tells him, and can feel the way Tommy grabs onto his hoodie.

It’s automatic, the way he brings a hand up to card through Tommy’s hair to try and soothe his distress.

While he knows he’s being manipulated a bit, that doesn’t really matter. Enough of it is how Tommy actually feels that it still sits like lead in Dream’s stomach.

He tries to explain, “I just…I wanted to give you something back as fast as I could manage. It has to be good though– not that I can really compete against the ribbon, but…”

A soft sigh comes from Tommy, who leans into Dream’s hand and sinks further into the hug. His clinginess makes the restlessness that had slowly crept into Dream’s bones vanish in an instant.

A sense of peace is left in its wake.

“Yeah. Hard for something to seem good enough.” There’s a sad, resigned note to his voice that makes anger flare in Dream’s chest. He can’t let someone get away with having hurt his protege. “When? Why aren’t they…” he trails off as the realization strikes him suddenly.

Tommy does, technically, have a family. He just rarely ever brings them up.

Tommy’s desperation for acceptance and people who would stay is once again brought into painful clarity.

It shouldn’t make him happy that people have hurt Tommy before, and it doesn’t.

But…but he can’t deny that there's a sense of relief that he doesn’t have to worry about someone swooping in to steal the single most important part in his life away.

The patchwork knowledge he has of the people around Tommy from before (before the server that will soon be his, before the place that will become his home forever) is enough to paint an even more blatant picture of people who don’t care about him. They’re people who don’t deserve his time, let alone the magnificent treasure that is his loyalty.

Dream doesn’t know a lot about them. He knows the most about his former rival-friend, obviously. Techno traveled a lot, almost always with Philza. He knows Soot grew bitter and angry, and eventually left with Tommy and Tubbo.

And he knows neither Soot nor Techno wore a claim from Tommy the entire time they were on the server.

The handful of times he had met Philza were enough to let him believe that he doesn’t wear one, either. It would have been obvious if he had; Tubbo’s faded bandana is proof enough that Tommy has loved red for a long time.

“I wasn’t good enough for them,” Tommy says, face pressing into Dream’s hoodie. The hurt in his voice makes the admin’s heart crack.

“Then they’re idiots. You’re…” Dream trails off, trying to find the words to convey how much Tommy means to him. How could any of them encompass the importance he holds?

After fumbling for words for a moment, he says, “...If I could wave a wand and have anyone be in your shoes…I wouldn’t choose anyone else. Nobody could possibly be better than you.”

Tommy inhales sharply, his grip tightening. He cautiously peeks up, and asks softly, “...Not even Sapnap?”

Dream does take a moment to consider what it would have been like if Sapnap had the ability to be an admin.

It would have been good, yes. Sapnap had been his friend for years, and he’s undeniably skilled in a lot of ways. He’s loyal, too, someone who would have stood with him no matter what.

…But he also would have withered. He had been the most reluctant to really settle somewhere. If Dream hadn't been trapped in the server, Sapnap would have dragged him out on countless adventures.

Were Sapnap an admin, he would have been faced with the choice between the freedom he craves, or his loyalty to Dream.

He probably would have gone through with it. But eventually, it would have killed him.

Maybe not literally, but something inside of him would have broken. Maybe George and Bad would have left, maybe he just would have gone stir crazy.

It wouldn’t matter, because Sapnap wouldn’t be able to handle it.

The short pause makes visible distress start to enter Tommy’s eyes and his grip on Dream’s hoodie to turn white-knuckled.

Trying to head off the imminent panic, Dream tells him, “Sapnap is capable, and could probably work with code once he wrapped his head around it. But he wouldn’t thrive as an admin. Not like you have. You want a place that’s yours. And you see things in a way that I don’t think anyone could match up with. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being surprised by you. So, yeah. I’d choose you over Sapnap.”

It shouldn’t be as easy to say as it is. A part of him feels like a traitor for admitting it out loud.

But…isn’t it better to not be blindsided? If Sapnap’s choice to leave is inevitable– and it doubtlessly is– then…it’ll hurt less to sever that attachment himself.

Tommy wants to be here. Tommy chose him.

It’s only right that Dream would do the same back.

The reassurance is, as Dream expected, examined for several long moments.

There’s not a shadow of a doubt in his mind that every tiny twitch he makes is being carefully examined to make sure that what he said is anything but the full truth.

That’s why he actually thought about the answer. It’s important that Tommy knows he’s sure, instead of just saying whatever would be most comforting.

Tommy finally gives a long exhale of relief, the tension that crept into his shoulders easing. “Good. That’s good.”

His protege doesn’t move away from the hug. If anything, he leans further into it.

They like that for a few minutes. It’s nice to have this reminder that his protege needs Dream in the same way that Dream needs him.

Then Dream asks, “What about you?” The question makes Tommy’s brow furrow faintly. “...Huh?” “If you could have chosen anyone else to take my place, would you?”

Maybe it’s unfair to ask that. Maybe it’s selfish and wrong.

But uncertainty has its terrible claws resting on Dream’s heart, and he wants Tommy’s answer to be just as certain as Dream’s had been.

Tommy scoffs and instantly tells him, “Nah. I wouldn’t take anyone else as my mentor. Nobody could hope to measure up.”

It should ease his fear, but instead those claws just press in more. He can’t stop himself from prompting further, “...What about someone who wouldn’t be a mentor?”

They both know exactly who Dream means. Tommy frowns, his eyes sliding off to the side.

After several moments he says, “...It’s not the same thing. Tubbo would be…it’d be different. Apples and oranges. Yeah, they’re both fruit, but they’re not…” he trails off, sighs, and presses his face against Dream’s hoodie again.

There’s a self-derisive note in his voice. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. He isn’t…I looked. I had hoped, maybe, that we could both be…but he’s not. He doesn’t have a spark. I…I knew that. He wasn’t ever– he never understood, but…I held out hope anyway. Dumb of me.”

The claws plunge into Dream’s heart, ice freezing his blood solid at the thought that Tommy had wanted to drag Tubbo in between them.

Their dynamic is special. It’s just the two of them and Dream wouldn’t change that for anything. Tommy is his, and he is Tommy’s, and that’s all that should matter.

It takes a long moment for him to realize he’s jealous.

Tubbo has a history with Tommy that Dream doesn’t, plain and simple. He’s stood by Tommy’s side through everything life has thrown at them and in some small way, Dream is grateful he was there to support Tommy.

Except now Dream is there. Tubbo is just…a vestigial remnant of Tommy’s old, worse life.

Besides– Tubbo isn’t good enough for Tommy. He doesn’t understand, not like Dream does.

But Tommy, at least for now, still holds on to Tubbo. And if that’s what he wants, then Dream can’t force him to cut that tie.

Still, he wordlessly tightens his hold on the most important person in his world. He tries to melt away the frost that’s taken root in his chest with the way Tommy clings right back to him.

Tommy can’t help but be smug when he’s offered the lime green bracelet shot through with red less than two days later.

The giddy happiness that’s been steadily building finally crescendos into a full orchestra of utter joy. It's a song of acceptance and being wanted, of moonlight and laughter and home. All of it bursts like fireworks in his chest as he eagerly puts it on.

Innit is beside itself with its own delight. He cares he cares he cares, the fragmented admin side says, like it can’t get past that thought.

It laughs, delighted, How could I, when he’s chosen us? When he knows what this MEANS, how important it is–! And he still wants everyone to know how much we matter to him. He is ours and we are his.

Dream’s voice startles him out of his thoughts. “I’m going to guess Innit is overwhelmed again.” Tommy blinks, and realizes that he’s started crying.

Embarrassing, but he thinks he can be forgiven for that.

Not that Dream seems to mind. If anything, he’s smiling too, warm and proud. “You were right, it was easier when I added a second color. And here I thought I was supposed to be the teacher.” Tommy laughs, and throws himself forward to hug him.

Arms fold around him automatically, and it makes him grin. It feels like his heart is downright bubbly with joy, because Dream is his and he is Dream’s.

That reminder sends Innit off into being more emotion than thought.

Fuzz lingers from its overwhelming happiness as Tommy says, “Naaaah, there’s plenty of things you’re terrible at. It’s fine, though; if you were too perfect, I’d feel useless. You being dumb sometimes means I get to make up for those flaws.”

“Oh? Like what?” Before Dream took him as his protege, the question would have sent Tommy into a spiral of insecure rage at being questioned.

Now, though, he hears the amused curiosity in Dream’s tone. So he treats it like a joke and teases, “Terrible taste in colors, for one. Just the worst.”

He’s delighted when it makes Dream break into a wheezing laugh. “Really? That’s all you can come up with? C’mon, we both know you’re better than me at plenty of things. Besides, lime green is a perfectly fine color–” “It is not, it’s a color you picked because nobody wears it! You told me that it was the cheapest, most memorable option!” “And now I like it!” “Proving my point, that you have the worst taste in colors!”

Dream asks, half laughing through the question, “And– and who is it who keeps stealing all my terribly colored hoodies, huh?” Tommy can’t help but laugh too, even as he quips back, “You have no proof of that! I only do it ‘cause you were so happy when I put on the first one!”

The laughter abruptly fades, and for a half second Tommy thinks he went too far.

Before concern can start to really take hold though, Dream gives another snort of amusement. “Prime, you’re too observant. I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” He sounds proud, and it makes the joy in Tommy’s chest reignite all over again.

Smug satisfaction appears alongside it. “Nope. Double the eyes, double the smarts, double noticing when you’re trying way too hard to hide something from us.”

Innit manages to assemble itself enough to say, He only briefly got away with it because we’d been up…how long was it? Just over two days. I still think we hallucinated that moth. I refuse to believe it existed.

Tommy scowls. “That’s just rude. Clementine was very pog and a lovely companion for our insomnia-fueled baking.”

He only realizes he responded out loud when he feels Dream’s arms tighten a little. His amusement has vanished and is instead replaced with wariness. “...Clementine?” “A moth that showed up when we were baking. Innit insists that she was a hallucination, I know in my heart of hearts that she was real.”

“Oh.” Tommy can’t help but find it funny that Dream is getting jealous of a literal and definitely real insect.

“Clingy,” he accuses. It’s meant lightheartedly, because Dream says the same thing to him from time to time. Always a gentle tease, never meant seriously– they’re aware that both of them take comfort in a concrete reminder of one of their people being right next to them.

But there’s threads of unease and self-consciousness in Dream’s voice as he replies, “Warned you that you’d get sick of me. Not my fault you didn’t listen.”

Levity drains from both Tommy and Innit in an instant. Dream being upset like this is unacceptable. Nobody, not even Dream himself, is allowed to hurt one of his people like that.

Tommy is more than willing to crawl into Dream’s head to destroy every single one of his demons and fears.

He smacks the side of Dream’s head lightly. He scolds, “Don’t joke about that. We’d never.”

The admin stares at him for a long moment, and huffs a soft laugh at himself. “Yeah. You’re right, as you are about all things ever. Only perfection can explain why you even gave me a chance to teach you, let alone why you’ve stuck around.”

Tommy’s eyes narrow at the sudden melancholy. “Stop that. Happy now, doubts never. I’m here, and I always will be. You already know how far I’d go for someone who abandoned my claim, don’t think you’d–”

Ah. Dream clearly never put those pieces together, judging by the way he pales. “...He abandoned it?” He sounds horrified, and rightfully so. The memory of Wilbur’s bare wrist still sends an ache through Tommy’s chest.

The past, and specifically his former family, aren’t a subject he really wants to dwell on. Still, he can’t really…leave things there.

With a reluctant sigh, he explains. “...Wil argued with Techno and Phil when theirs both vanished. Or, well– Phil never really wore his. Left it behind in a drawer. He never unpacked his bags all the way, so…I knew he didn’t care. Techno…he said he lost it. I was so proud when I saw it in the recordings of his tournament. And then by the finals it was just…gone. Wil yelled at both of them, said I’d spent ages on them. He knew it was important to me, even if he didn’t get why.”

There’s only resentment when he thinks about what had seemed so validating at the time. “Eventually, though, Wil’s bracelet just…got misplaced. He seemed upset, so I spent– I spent weeks combing over every nook and cranny I could think of. I found it.”

The memory of the absolute joy he’d felt when he proudly presented it to Wilbur again feels wrong. It was too desperate, too willing to ignore the reluctance in Wilbur’s movements and voice when he put it on again.

“...It was gone in a week. I never saw it after that.” Hate bubbles up, hot and unexpected, from Innit. That was when you decided I was bad. You decided you were being too needy, so you started pushing me down.

Dream asks softly, “How old…” Tommy laughs quietly, bitterly. “Eleven or so.”

He can practically feel Dream’s anger in the way his arms tighten around him. “I’d die before I gave you up. You’re everything.” The vehemence makes Tommy startle, but he sinks gratefully into Dream’s hug. “I know,” he says, and he does.

Dream needs him. Dream has chosen him over anything and anyone else. None of his other friends realized what their claims had meant, nor were they so blatantly, blindingly obvious in having been from Dream.

They don’t understand him. We do. He’s ours. Tubbo can stay, but everyone else can fuck off, because we’re not giving him up. Tommy smiles to himself, right hand tracing the pattern of the bracelet on his left wrist.

The dark green bandana that stays on his right wrist is the proof of his bond with Tubbo. Stolen from a passing stall and presented grandly, because his best friend had realized how much the one he had been given matters to Tommy.

And now he has the complement to it– undeniable evidence that his mentor holds him in the highest regard. Tubbo’s gift has been reciprocated without understanding.

Dream, though…? He knows the exact meaning of this treasure.

It’s Dream making his own vow that he will never turn his back on him.

The thought makes his heart swell with pride. “And you’re mine, too. Even if you did get rid of me, I’d break back into the server to kill you for it.”

His mentor’s distress bleeds away into something gently awed. “I couldn’t ask for anything less. If I tried to abandon you, I’d deserve death.”

Dual-hearted joy wells in Tommy’s chest. “Things are good now, and that’s all that matters. Except for where you got me all sad when this is supposed to be a happy thing!”

“...It doesn’t feel real. I barely dared to hope you’d let me teach you at all,” Dream admits. Tommy makes a disgruntled noise, eyes narrowing.

Immediately doing a verbal pivot, Dream tries to appease his wrath. “I’ll mess with your hair?”

The offer makes Tommy smile.

Chapter Text

Now that Dream is reassured that Tommy won't abandon him if he leaves his side for too long, it’s possible for Tommy to actually go and hang out with his best friend for the first time in ages.

Between Tubbo’s work in New L’manburg and Tommy having to help Dream be semi-functional again, as well as said mentor and Tommy focusing on their project, there just hasn’t been a good chance to get together.

Naturally, this is when things start to go wrong.

An explosion happens in the distance. For a split second, Tommy is thrown back to the revolution, to Hammertime, to every time the world ended while he was helpless to do anything but watch.

Then a chime yanks him back to the present. He shoves his wrist upwards so he can read while he sprints towards the site of the explosion.

The_Eret has blown up

ConnorEatsPants was blown up

Well, shit, that’s not good. He barely has time to wonder who could have it out for Eret and Connor, of all people, when another chime rings out.

The_Eret was shot by Instant Harming Arrow

He stops dead in his tracks, because he knows what a death alert sounds like.

And he knows that he just heard two, back to back, when Eret had already lost a life during Hammertime.

Eret is dead for good, and it wasn’t an accident.

The general chat erupts into absolute chaos. Everyone is shocked and angry at the blatant assassination, and understandably so.

Eret wasn’t…Tommy’s favorite person, no. But whatever grudge he had once held against them was, if not forgotten, at least far less pressing than other matters.

They are– were– tolerable. Not trustworthy, but that’s equally true of most of the people on the server. The rare exceptions are Tubbo and Dream.

Even Dream comes with an asterisk; the admin who now is his mentor, and friend, and family was once a mysterious, unknowable figure.

It’s sort of funny how human he seems now that Tommy sees his face so often. He knows Dream’s favorite foods, the way to make him wheeze with laughter, even how to weave around his guard in a sparring match and send him flat on his ass.

He might not always be able to pull off the last one, but he still understands what he needs to do and why it works.

The explosion has left a crater in the otherwise unremarkable stretch of ground around it. Beneath where they stand is a section of the sewers that Tommy himself had mined out and lined with blackstone because it looked cool.

And also because Wilbur had wanted him to stay busy and out of his hair for a few weeks. An offhanded suggestion had been all the encouragement that Tommy needed to devote himself to the mammoth task.

Back then, all the effort had felt worth it when his brother gave him a distracted, half-hearted ‘great’.

Fuck Wilbur, though. His ex-brother isn’t worth the space he takes up in Tommy’s memories, let alone his thoughts.

Tommy’s timing of reaching the crater is, coincidentally, right when Dream arrives from an entirely different direction.

Said direction is not the same one the base is in, nor did Dream have plans out here. Thus, this evidently counts as one of the rare times when Dream deems it necessary to use his admin abilities.

Not that Tommy can blame him for that. Someone has committed blatant, premeditated murder in their server, targeting one of the people Dream had offered his home to when he believed they might need it.

This is as good as spitting in Dream’s face, then plunging a dagger into his chest while he was reeling from the shock.

Such disregard for Dream’s entire ethos and rules is not just an insult to him, but one against Tommy as well.

The server all but belongs to him just as much as it does to Dream. This is his domain, the one he has no qualms about enforcing the peace of with a netherite fist.

The rest of the server is rapidly arriving. Tommy moves to stand by his mentor’s side, quietly observing when people arrive and how out of sorts they seem.

As he’s doing so, Dream says, “I will find the murderer. They’re going to regret it.”

Tommy can hear the low, angry undertone in his voice and it actually takes a bit of effort not to flinch.

His mentor, even for how little patience he sometimes has with certain groups, hasn’t sounded so coldly furious since…actually, since before Hammertime.

“Well forgive me if I don’t trust your judgment on who would do this,” comes a retort from Niki that makes Tommy roll his eyes internally.

She seems to have had it out for them ever since Wilbur’s ban. Tommy damn well knows why, even if her reasons are stupid as hell.

It’s pointless hostility and shifting the blame towards him for shit that his former brother managed all on his own.

Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still talking to her and feeding her lies.

Tommy points out, “Not your call, though.” “And who's to say you aren’t the killer?”

The accusation is absolutely insane for a dozen reasons. He’s pretty sure his expression betrays how stupid he thinks it is. “Why the fuck would I kill someone?”

“Niki, Niki, there’s no need to throw blame around,” Quackity soothes, though there’s a sharpness to his smile that Tommy doesn’t like at all. “Though…he did get here awfully fast.”

Tommy gestures to his best friend. “Tubs and I have been planning to hang out all week. I know you know that, because he has time off that you had to agree to.” “It’s true,” Tubbo agrees. “Tommy doesn’t have any motive.”

Niki snaps back, “Which makes it suspicious that it happened today–”

This time, Tommy does roll his eyes. “Alright, then, setting aside when I set it up or just, you know, why I would want them dead at all– what would make me decide murder is the best option?”

He’s pretty sure his expression conveys exactly how stupid he thinks the argument is. “It feels like you managed to forget that my mentor is the admin and can ban people. If I wanted Eret gone for some Prime-forsaken reason, why the hell would I piss everyone off by killing them? I could have just asked Dream to ban them. Faster, easier, less risk of being the target of an angry mob.”

Silence answers that from the two idiots in New L’manburg’s government. He couldn’t even blame them if the accusation held any water, but, no. It’s just them being petty assholes when there are much more important things to be focusing on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see that Dream has gone from angry to incandescent with fury.

Thunder rumbles ominously in the distance.

His mentor demands, “Are you seriously choosing now, when someone has been murdered, to try and take potshots at Tommy? I’d ask if you’ve lost your mind, but that’s clearly already happened–”

Tommy cuts off the outraged snarl by patting his shoulder. “Big man, it’s not important right now–” A noise of disagreement meets that, and Tommy emphasizes, “Right now, we have a murder to solve.”

After a moment, his mentor visibly calms himself down. The clouds stop rolling in, but don’t vanish like they should.

Shit, he must be taking this hard. Sure, Tommy knows that part of it is his anger that this is when these clowns decided to try and smear Tommy’s name.

But it probably doesn’t help that Dream was the one who invited Eret to the server in the first place. His mentor’s guilt must be weighing pretty heavily on him.

And for Connor, too. The guy must be having a hell of a time, down two lives–

That realization makes him pause.

Even if he was going to take his sweet time getting back here, his spawn should be no more than a few minutes’ walk away. He should be here by now. “...Where’s Connor?”

That seems to make everyone else notice that the odd man is very much missing.

“...Uh,” Bad squeaks out after a minute or two. When Tommy looks over, he sees that the demon is staring down at his com.

That’s a bad sign, Innit notes, even as Tommy pulls his own out to look for what would have inspired that sort of reaction. Member list, maybe?

The screen is very clearly missing Connor’s name.

A sick feeling rises in Tommy’s gut and he scrolls back up through the gen chat. No sign that he left, which means–

Connor is dead too?! HOW?! He’s only lost two lives!

A thought occurs to him, and Tommy asks, “Does anyone know how many lives Connor was on when he joined?”

It takes some people a bit too long to understand why he’s asking, but when they do, it’s clear that nobody expected that he might be dead.

Karl looks guilty, Innit points out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy watches said individual as shock and dismay twists his expression. Sure, it could be that they were close, but…he’s never seen them chat before now.

And if anyone would know, it would be Tommy. He makes a habit of skimming footage from the mod cams installed around the server.

The vast majority of footage might be worthless, but the rare nuggets of usefulness he finds make the tedium worth it. Doubly so when he just needs something to half-watch while he sews or cooks.

Raising his hand to his mouth like he can’t believe this could happen– which, to be fair, he still doesn’t– he quietly tells his mentor, “Karl.”

Dream hisses out a soft breath.

For a moment Tommy thinks that it’s a signal that he caught it, but instead rain lands on his shoulder.

He looks up, frowning, as it starts to drizzle.

This is bad. Really, really bad. Dream pretty much never loses control like this. It’s a point of pride for him that he can keep the weather calm even when he’s devastatingly upset.

“Dream?” Saying his name doesn’t get a reaction. Dream’s mask is tilted down at his com.

Tommy realizes that his mentor’s hand is shaking.

Fuck.

It would be great if Tommy could just let him feel as much as he needs to, but right now, that’s not a smart move. Other people are around and might be able to put two and two together if Dream’s handle on the weather keeps slipping like this.

Helping Dream through his distress means jack and shit if people pull their heads out of their asses long enough to realize his emotions are fucking with the weather.

It’s not a hard leap from that to deciding Dream and, by extension Tommy, are too dangerous to let stay alive.

He puts his hand on his mentor’s shoulder and says, firmer, “Dream.” There’s a slight tensing of his fingers around the com, which lets Tommy know that he’s at least being heard.

“Big man, we need you right now.” That seems to get a real reaction, finally.

With a harsh exhale, Dream slowly lifts his head up to scan the crowd of people around them.

His voice carries the same unyielding authority as when he had demanded the surrender of L’manburg. “Whoever did this? There will be consequences.”

When he turns and walks off, Tommy can’t help but take a moment to stare after him. Is he really not– we need to check alibis, look for evidence–! Innit’s worry about that is a bit surprising. Since when does it give a shit about Eret or Connor?

Whoever did this might target Dream or Tubbo next. It doesn’t matter if they’re happy if they aren’t safe.

…A fair point. But, right now, Tommy is aware there’s not much they can do if they’re distracted by Dream being alone when he’s so distraught.

Fighting petty arguments against New L’manburg won’t help anyone in the long run.

Thus, Tommy makes the tactical decision that it’s more important to take care of his mentor rather than deal with the rest of the server.

As he makes that choice, he jogs to catch up to Dream– how the fuck did he get so far ahead already?-- Tommy hears a familiar voice call out, “Dream– stop, we need to talk–”

Like today needed to get any worse? He tamps down on his annoyance that Sapnap has decided that this is when he should hash shit out with Dream.

It feels a little bit like a victory when Dream tells him, “Sapnap, I can’t– right now isn’t a good time–” “Yeah and that’s why we need to talk! You’re pulling away–” “I’m not discussing this. Two people are dead.” “I noticed! That’s why I’m worried! You’re– shit, it’s raining, it never rains–”

Tommy takes that moment to step up to take his rightful place at his mentor’s left side.

The look he levels Sapnap with is chilly, even as he leans some of his weight against Dream. Not much; just a little, to remind his mentor that Tommy is there for him no matter what.

And that he will always be there, unlike his so-called friends.

“If Dream doesn’t want to talk,” Tommy says, voice firm but even, “then you trying to make him talk isn’t going to help. Whatever you want to say can wait.”

Hurt flashes in the blaze hybrid’s eyes when Dream doesn’t disagree. The pleased feeling in Tommy’s chest grows as he puts his arm around his mentor’s shoulders again.

He knows Dream responds best to that kind of affection when he’s at his lowest.

Dream leans into it like it’s second nature, sagging a little as he trusts some of his weight to Tommy.

He tells his mentor gently, “C’mon, big man. This is a bad place to get emotional.”

The words serve multiple purposes. Firstly, paired with the obvious glance Tommy gives to the sky, they give Sapnap proof that Dream has told him about how his emotions are linked to the weather.

Secondly, it’s a subtle snub; he’s saying that Sapnap isn’t safe to be open with or around.

Thirdly, it’s a reminder that it’s not Sapnap who has a secret base with Dream that nobody else knows the location of; it’s Tommy.

And, lastly, it reminds Dream that there is, in fact, a place where he can freely break down. He won’t have to worry about someone seeing more than they should– he can fall apart and grieve the peace of his server.

Tommy will be right at his side to soothe that pain and pick up the pieces. It will be yet another way to cement his place in Dream’s life; another way that would make Dream need him.

If he’s a vital organ, then he can’t be replaced or pulled away from. At least, not without causing catastrophic damage.

Tommy feels his mentor further sink against him. Being leaned on both literally and metaphorically like this makes pride settle warm and content in his bones.

Sapnap doesn’t argue further, as Tommy guides his mentor far enough away that it’s safe to use the teleport command.

Another minor violation of Dream’s rules, but one that’s easy to justify. Dream is lost in his own head, and the faster Tommy can get him back to the base, the better.

He needs to be safe enough to feel his emotions fully. Bottling it all up is dangerous for everyone in the long run.

Frankly, Tommy himself didn’t really care about Eret or Connor before they died. That hasn’t suddenly changed.

No, his issue is that Dream is upset, and somebody else has tried to usurp their authority in this place.

He’s more than willing to exact a bloody revenge on the rest of them until the culprit reveals themselves or is otherwise unearthed. It doesn’t matter how bloodied his hands get; they have insulted him, insulted Dream, and insulted their authority.

How dare they. Exactly; this is their realm. Not so much as a single drop of water can exist here without their express permission.

As Dream said, whoever did this is going to regret it.

Nobody can get away with playing god here. Not for long, and not without consequences.

Chapter Text

It’s been a week and neither Tommy nor Dream are any closer to figuring out who the fuck killed Eret and Connor.

It had been Tommy who took statements from the server, though he only did so remotely and during the periods of time when Dream fell into restless sleep.

His mentor would curl around him as he slept, as though he’s trying to shield Tommy from the dangers of the world around them.

Nothing has ever been quite as endearing. Nor has anything been as good at reinforcing that Tommy’s choice to stay here with Dream forever is the right choice.

How could he fathom hurting someone who so desperately needs him? What could ever be worth knowing that he would be ripping out his mentor’s heart by leaving his side?

No. He wants to stay. Just like Dream tries to do for him, Tommy will protect him, too.

This is the place that is so painfully close to belonging to Tommy. Mobs already treat him with the utmost respect; even skeletons and phantoms won’t attack him. Endermen and piglins greet him with titles of reverence and offer him tokens of their affection.

Which has led to a bit of a problem. The complicated politics between different endermen hauntings has created a situation where gifts to Tommy have to be better than what other alliances have given.

He doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do with five elytras or a dozen dragon heads.

Neither of which Dream needs to know about. Tommy doesn’t need him worrying about how unfair it is to others, not when they won’t be used.

The lavish gifts, though, just underline that Tommy is treated with the utmost respect.

In the same way that plants know to grow, every entity native to the server seems to know just how precious Tommy is to Dream. They know that he will become just as important– will soon have his soul twined through every drop of water and every mob.

The fact that Dream is so worried about that final step just means that Tommy needs to work a little harder to convince him that he would rather die at Dream’s side than survive anywhere else.

And he would. Even if Dream would be upset by that statement, the fact of the matter is that Tommy doesn’t have anyone or anything outside of this place.

Sure, he has Tubbo. Tubbo’s presence in his life is a foregone conclusion. The sun will rise in the east, mobs spawn in the dark, and Tubbo will exist in Tommy’s life.

They might be a little more physically distant, but to push Tubbo away would be the worst kind of betrayal.

There is nothing lower in Tommy’s eyes than that; loyalty being met with a knife in the back.

And Tommy would know. His once-family are a bunch of traitors, those to whom Tommy offered his heart, only for them to carelessly shatter it.

For an agonizingly long time, he had groveled at their feet to plead for the meager scraps of attention they could deign to throw his way. Every halfhearted good job or pat on the head was worth its weight in diamonds.

But now? Now, Tommy has real power. He’s found a place he belongs, a place that cares about him, and someone who he trusts with his heart.

Dream has earned Tommy’s loyalty a hundred thousand times over. Everything he does just reinforces that this is the only place that Tommy wants to be. He notices when Tommy gets too distracted to eat, or when he needs to sleep, or lights up from something as simple as Tommy darning a sleep shirt.

Even the way that Dream seems incapable of starting his day until Tommy does his hair acts like a soft reminder of how important he is here.

He’s wanted. He’s needed. He has finally found his home.

And thus, it would be kinder to Tommy’s heart to stay at his mentor’s side no matter what may befall them. He wouldn’t put it past Dream to push him out of the server at the last moment to save his life rather than them both dying.

It would be a betrayal. Not just from Dream, well intentioned though it might be, but from Tommy.

Dream has given him more than he could ever hope to repay. He will stay at his mentor’s side no matter what– even if it means they both die.

Better death than betrayal.

Though, if Tommy has his way, the death of Eret and Connor will end in at least one death.

He doesn’t give a shit about the two of them as people. He cares about how someone has not just killed on the server that is as good as Tommy’s, but done so in a way that neither he nor Dream can easily figure out.

Normally, Dream should be able to just project his mind into the code of the server or whatever and watch the past.

But for some Prime-forsaken reason, he can’t. Every time he tries to look at the sewers, everything beyond a certain point turns into unparsable static. No sight, no sound, nothing.

That means that he’s having to spend hours slowly following each person in the days leading up to the attack.

They don’t even know for sure if Connor was meant to die or instead had just been a very unlucky bastard.

Hell, not even Tommy’s mod cameras have turned much up.

Making and setting up the cameras is tedious as fuck. It takes multiple hours per camera, partly by design. Each one has to be individually coded, tied to a specific block, given a unique ID, placed, and painstakingly linked to the folders they should spit the recordings into.

All that only for a solid ninety-eight percent of the footage to be of literally nothing at all.

So he had opted to be stingy with the cameras he placed in the sewers. After all, if anything important happened, then surely Dream could just go look at it himself!

He’s annoyed that Innit seems to be just as clueless about why the sewers seem to be repelling Dream’s all-seeing gaze as Tommy and Dream are. Why the fuck is this one of the rare times it doesn’t understand what’s going on?

A distracted, irritated grumble is the only response Tommys gets.

Even Karl seems like a dead end. He had been sus at the scene, but nothing he’s done over the last few days seems out of character for him.

Not that either Tommy or his mentor are throwing in the towel, of course. Someone has fucked around in their domain, and they’re gonna find out that the cost of that is much higher than they counted on.

Or, Tommy considers, when he gets an unexpected message, maybe they don’t have to deal with this entirely on their own.

Of all the people he considered could know something, he wouldn’t have thought it might be Manifold.

The guy has been fairly nice to him in the past. A little less so since Tommy had become Dream’s protege, but nowhere near as bad as some others have been.

He nudges his mentor. After a moment or two, the bright green glow in Dream’s eyes fades. He also sags a bit, likely from pushing himself so hard.

There’s no way that Tommy can drag him along for this, then.

Tommy tilts his com screen towards his mentor. “Jack says he knows something. I’m gonna go check it out.”

Dream starts to get up, but Tommy stops him. “No, you will stay right the fuck here. It won’t do anyone any good if you collapse halfway there.”

“I don’t want you going off on your own–” Tommy sighs and rolls his eyes. Worrywart. “Dream, I could beat up most of the server with a hand tied behind my back. Even if it is a trap, I’ll be fine.”

Feigning hurt purposefully poorly, he adds, “C’mon, big man, you don’t trust me?”

For several long moments, Dream stares at him. Tommy can tell he’s torn between the need to make sure his most important person is protected and the need to punish whoever it is that poses a threat to their server.

And, by extension, both of them.

A long sigh lets him know Dream is, as usual, caving to him. “...Just stay safe. If you take too long–” “Yeah, yeah, I’ll expect you to rescue me if things do go south. Which is another reason for you not to go.”

Tommy stands up and sets a hand on his mentor’s head. “Eat something, dumbass. Gotta take care of yourself. Water, too.”

He gets a displeased noise in return, though his hand isn’t batted away. If anything, Dream leans ever so slightly into it. “Don’t mess up the ribbon–” “I can just fix it later. Harder to fix you passing out ‘cause you pushed yourself too far,” Tommy tells him.

That’s been one of the only things that’s remained a constant. Every morning, without fail, Tommy does his hair.

Nothing too complicated, not right now. It’s too important to stop entirely, though– it’s become a quiet way to remind his mentor that he will be here, come what may.

And right now, Dream needs all the stability he can get. The shock of George’s betrayal and the two murders has destroyed the peaceful routine of their lives.

Tone softening, Tommy adds, “This’d be a real shit time to go out of commission, yeah? And I need you, big man.”

Dream smiles like that admission of concern makes him feel better. Maybe it does– his fears are probably pretty damn loud right now.

“You’ve made your point,” he sighs, sounding a little rueful. It only takes a moment for his smile to fade. “...I need you, too. Be safe.”

What a sap. Not that Tommy doesn’t feel buoyed by the sentiment. Being so important to someone still catches him off guard sometimes.

Above even his best friends, his mentor has decided that Tommy is the person to go all in on. And, well…given the fears that Tommy now knows he has, it makes sense.

As he makes the long trip back towards spawn, Innit frets, Maybe he’s right. Maybe we should wait– No, if they wait, Jack might chicken out or be shut up. They need to strike while the iron’s hot.

Speaking of hot.

He yet again finds himself questioning why the hell he let Dream talk him into making their base so far from spawn. Paired with Dream's stubbornness about teleporting, any time they have to go to the main area of the server the two of them just end up overheated and miserable.

Spending time in the nether with the piglins is one thing when he can easily retreat back to the slight chill of their cave-turned-home, but the near hour of travel back to the main part of the server is awful.

By the thirty minute mark, he’s debating how likely it is that he can get away with just teleporting back home. Whatever it is that Manifold wants to tell him can't possibly take long, and the idea of barely cooling down before having to turn right back around sounds absolutely fucking miserable.

But Dream doesn’t want us to cheat! Is it really cheating if it’s purely for business? They aren’t popping over for funsies, they’re acting in capacity as Dream’s protege and second in command.

Their time and energy is much better spent taking care of Dream and finding the murderer, rather than wasted going back and forth.

And, besides– the longer they spend in transit, the longer they're away from Dream. He’s not going to be able to get anything done on his own. No matter how capable Tommy is, his mentor will just work himself into a panic.

Like the universe is mocking him, he’s yanked out of his thoughts by glass shattering at his feet.

The world feels like it’s being filtered through molasses. Slowness, Innit hisses, like that fact wasn’t obvious.

A second bottle smashes into the ground and he sees the ground rush up to meet him.

His last thought before unconsciousness claims him is that Dream is never letting him leave the base again.

=========

Tommy is understandably less than thrilled when he wakes up crammed inside of a one by one iron cage with his hands tied behind his back.

The cage is on top of a raised wooden platform in the middle of a huge field. Even if Tommy were able to break out, the distance he’d have to run to make it to the nearest trees would make him too easy a target.

On the platform with him, though significantly less trapped, are the three fourths of New L’manburg’s government that Tommy was evidently fucking right to be worried about.

He prides himself on his ability to read others, and as far as he was aware, Jack was at least tolerant of him.

Or, at the very least, had been unwilling to start a fight he could never hope to win.

He doesn’t know what honeyed words or threats that Quackity fed to Jack to get his cooperation, but it doesn’t really matter right now.

Quackity grins at him, the very picture of smug confidence. “Oh, hey! Nice to see you awake, you’ve been out like a light,” Quackity tells him, a little laugh to his words that immediately sets Tommy’s teeth on edge.

No need to give him any further reason to gloat. Tommy has been in worse situations than this; he can keep his cool perfectly fine.

He rolls his eyes and tells the president, “Really that threatened by me, huh? Can’t blame you, given how precarious your power is. I’d love to know what the fuck your plan here is. You trying to speedrun dying, or just lost your mind?”

Given the way Quackity’s smile grows sharp, Tommy has a sinking suspicion he’s not going to like whatever it is the bastard is about to say. “No…no, I’m not the one who’s going to die.”

The duck hybrid glances at Fundy and asks, “Have you gotten into his com yet?”

Tommy looks over and makes an outraged noise. The com Fundy is holding is all too familiar; the once bright red com is slightly washed out from age, use, and how beat up it is. It’s covered in faded stickers and little carvings dug into it with the edge of a pocket knife.

That’s his com, and Fundy has no fucking right to be touching it, let alone using it.

“You bitch, get your paws off my com!” Fundy narrows his eyes at him, then goes back to tinkering with the small boxes and wires hooked into the device. “I’m not the one who’s a dog here. You’re the one on Dream’s leash.”

Anger flares white hot before Tommy quickly reigns it in. Righteous anger can come later; right now, it would just get in the way.

He and Innit filter through the information they know, selecting daggers to drive into the weak points of these idiots.

The easiest one is Fundy. “Funny, you look a lot like an ignored street mutt to me. I mean, fuck, if you wanted attention, try asking for it.”

Fundy bares his teeth, head snapping upwards. “Says the one nobody likes except for Dream, not that that will matter soon.”

Oh do these fuckers think they can cow him? Hah! Tommy laughs once, incredulously. “That’s weird, because last I checked there are four people in New L’manburg’s cabinet. Hey, scale of one to ten, how cool is Tubbo with you sticking me in a cage and stealing my com?”

“Just because Tubbo hasn’t seen what a monster you are doesn’t mean you don’t deserve this,” Niki tells him. Something dark flashes in her eyes.

Tommy’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Damn. Stone cold, have to respect that a little. See, Fundy, why can’t you be more like her? Niki knows how to get shit done, unlike you.”

Fundy snarls wordlessly, tail lashing in outrage.

Then his ears suddenly perk up and he grins smugly. Evidently, he finally managed to hack into Tommy’s com.

Judging by where the sun is in the sky and the way he can only barely see a familiar tower in the distance, Fundy has to have been working on that for at least a solid two and half hours by now.

Sort of sad it took him this long; Tommy is sure Tubbo would have gotten it in way less time.

Then again, Tubbo is evidently the only one of the cabinet with any brains. Hell, he’s probably the only person on the entire server with two brain cells to rub together, bar Dream and Tommy himself.

“Yeah, well, tell that to Dream after you’re both dead,” Fundy crows triumphantly.

The word echoes in Tommy’s head for just a moment as he stares blankly at the fox hybrid. “...That’s a real interesting offer, but hard pass. Good luck catching him off guard, Dream is stronger and smarter than all of you put together.”

“Yeah, see, we don’t have to be stronger than him. We’ve got the only thing he gives a shit about!” Quackity’s words make dread pool in Tommy’s gut, which only increases as the duck hybrid continues, “All we have to do is get him here, and he’ll die. Then you’ll die, too. Then we’ll all be free of your tyranny. The server will finally be at peace.”

Tommy scoffs at him, rolling his eyes. Of course it went back to power. “You dumb, dumb bastard. You don’t understand anything, do you? You’re not gonna like how this shakes out for you, but rest assured…”

He smiles with more than a little malice. It’s with a laugh that he warns, “It’s gonna be a rude wakeup call.”

And it will be. Even if these idiots manage to kill both Dream and Tommy, there won’t be a server left.

There's no point in explaining the intricacies of what an admin is to their server, not that they’d believe him even if he did.

But that’s assuming they can kill Dream. Yeah, it’s not exactly great that Tommy has been captured, imprisoned, and is being used as bait.

It doesn’t matter what they tell Dream via Tommy’s com, though; his mentor isn’t going to just waltz in without checking things out first.

He has full confidence that this is going to result in nothing but a death sentence for the absolute morons in front of him.

“Bold words from a kid,” Niki snaps at him. Yeah, a part of him is annoyed that she’s calling him a kid, but at the same time…he also knows she’s trying to get under his skin.

So instead, Tommy gives a low whistle. “Shit, is this how you treat kids? Wow. Forget cold, you’re subzero.”

He flicks his gaze over to the fox hybrid. “Hey, Fundy, any progress on figuring out how to phrase your message so Dream doesn’t immediately realize you’re being sus? Because it sure does look like you’re just staring at my com without saying anything!”

Fundy glares at him, lash whipping back and forth in agitation. “Shut up–” “Hey, I mean, no pressure! I know it’s tough getting a seat at the big kid’s table for once, but you can do it, champ! I believe in you, even if literally nobody else does.” Tommy makes sure to inject as much sarcastic cheer as he can into the words.

As expected, Fundy’s lip curls in anger. He really should learn how to hide such obvious tells.

Tommy continues, “Funny how neither of the other two are shutting me up. Not very pog of them to just let the hostage diss their supposed colleague, tsk tsk. I mean, it’s almost like they don’t actually give a shit about you and are just using you when it’s convenient.”

“Don’t talk to him like that–” Quackity's objection makes Tommy’s expression turn smug. “Subtle how you jumped in right after I pointed that out. That was sarcasm, since I don’t trust you to actually know it when you hear it.”

It’s with a laugh that he tells them, “You’re a bunch of incompetent idiots running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Your missing cabinet member, who is going to be very cross when he learns about this, is the only reason New L’manburg hasn’t fallen apart under the weight of its own bloated, rotten corpse.”

Niki’s expression has gone dark with anger. “And what would you know about Tubbo?” “More’n you, I reckon. Hate me all you want, but bee boy and I go way back.”

Tommy smiles again, more than a little meanly, as he adds, “You should know that, just like you should know that Wilbur was an abusive asshole but are still too willfully blind to notice the countless red flags."

“Shut up,” she hisses, and Tommy pointedly does not do that. “Hey, you know he nearly killed me, right? Stole my com and locked me in a closet for five days. You looked at me and said I was faking it. I thought of you as a friend, Niki–” “Stop it–” “Almost like a big sister, and you said I did it to myself. Y’know what it feels like, five days without food or water? Clawing at stone and knowing the obsidian is gonna stop you?”

Niki sounds a little frantic as she flinches a half step away. “Quackity, where’s the–” “But you can’t not, because there’s nothing, fucking nothing, it’s terrifying and pitch black just like your fucking heart apparently is–”

“He wouldn’t!” Her shout makes Tommy raise his own voice right back. “He would and he fucking did! If you bothered to actually look for it, you would find the closet in Pogtopia yourself! But you’re too scared of the truth; why else try and shut me up?!”

“That’s enough,” Quackity warns, a netherite axe materializing in his hands. “Keep talking, and–” Tommy scoffs dismissively, interrupting, “And what?! You kill me and every ounce of leverage you have vanishes. Dream gives a shit about me, just like you said! If I die, he’ll be fucking pissed.”

As if to prove his point, a crack of thunder sounds in the distance. Tommy barks out a laugh at it, head tilting back to look up at the clouds that are starting to roll in too fast to be natural.

His mentor is definitely watching, then. “Ah, shit, whoops. Must’ve pissed off that thunder god or whatever. My bad, hope the judgment of the heavens doesn’t get in the way of your hypocritical hostage-and–double-murder attempt.”

Thunder booms again and it seems like the clouds move in even faster. Fat droplets of rain start hitting the raised wooden platform Tommy’s tiny cage is on top of.

“Like any gods would care about you,” Quackity says, entirely too lightly. “Mm. You’d be surprised,” Tommy replies with a little shrug.

The knives to get under the skin of New L’manburg are easy to select. “Hey, Big Q, how’re your boyfriends doing? You do know Sapnap will be wrecked if you do kill Dream and me, right? Or is that the real motive– poor little Sapnap, his friends all gone. Lucky for him, you’re there to pick up the pieces and help him heal. Fucked up, but effective.”

Quackity’s levity vanishes like the good weather did, a much more metaphorical stormcloud overtaking his expression. “You’re pretty mouthy, you know that, right? Think you’re hot shit with big, bad Dream looking out for you. But there are things out there that are worse than him.”

Tommy smiles back at him, more a baring of his teeth than an attempt to show warmth or amusement. “Not for you, there aren’t.”

Because Tommy is more than aware of what the price will be for this downright treasonous act; death.

Not his, and certainly not Dream’s, but theirs. He doubts that any of these three will live another week.

They’re trying to kill him, and worse, they’re trying to kill Dream.

Death is the only possible outcome when they’ve decided to rebel so violently against those that can shape the world to their will. Their lives were forfeit the second they dared to snap at the hands that fed them.

Then again, they have no clue exactly how merciful Tommy and his mentor have been up until now. Dream has played nice with these idiots, even for all his distaste for them. He let them have their country, their petty little displays of power, and their casual slights against both him and Tommy.

That’s done with. Nice is over. Nice is dead.

“When your judgment comes,” Tommy tells him, smiling wider as he lets the chill he wields so easily creep into his voice, “Know that it’s your own fucking fault. You’re going to regret this.”

“No,” Quackity says, pulling a bottle from his inventory, “I don’t think we will.” He smashes it over the cage, and Tommy hisses in displeasure at the feeling of weakness settling into his bones.

Niki steps forward to open the top of the cage while Quackity pulls two strips of cloth out. When the president reaches into the cage, Tommy lunges and bites his hand as hard as he can. The blood is sour and almost makes Tommy gag.

Quackity yelps in pain and rips his hand away, glaring at him. Tommy just spits the mouthful of blood at the duck hybrid’s shoes, then gives another red-stained baring of his teeth at him.

Niki reaches in and grabs Tommy’s head by his hair and yanks it backwards so he can't bite again. “I won’t let you trick me,” she says, voice low.

Tommy can’t help but scoff and roll his eyes, even as Quackity gags and blindfolds him.

The world turns dark, and all he can do is wait.

Chapter Text

Tommy is taking way too long.

Dream had a bad feeling about the message from the start, but Tommy was…well. Tommy was Tommy, and he wanted to see what it was that Jack wanted to tell him.

But it’s been three hours, and his protege isn’t responding to any messages on either his com or his mod console.

He’s about at the point of sinking into the code to follow his trail when the familiar, unique chime of a reply finally sounds from his com. Relief makes him give a long exhale as he stops pacing to open his messages with Tommy.

TommyInnit: need you out here big man

TommyInnit: can’t handle this on my own

TommyInnit: hurry!!

And then a set of coordinates.

Ice surges through Dream’s veins, because he knows immediately and beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tommy didn’t send that. Tommy would never bother with punctuation, especially not in an emergency.

Best case scenario is that someone stole and hacked into his com, which is bad for a dozen reasons. Worst case scenario…

Well. He could catastrophize and go into a panic attack over the terrible things that might be happening to Tommy, but that's not going to do anything to actually help.

Thankfully, the coordinates provide exactly what he needs, that being a place to zero in on.

He lets himself sink into the code of the server, and brings himself to the place ‘Tommy’ mentioned.

“--You kill me and every ounce of leverage you have vanishes. Dream gives a shit about me, just like you said! If I die, he’ll be fucking pissed,” Tommy tells the soon-to-be-dead president of New L’manburg from inside a tiny, cramped iron cage.

Two of the other three cabinet members watch, and Dream spots the battered red com that is Tommy’s in the paw-like hands of Fundy.

Black, violent rage surges through him at the sight of his student, his heart, his Tommy, being trapped in a cage that he barely fits inside.

Tommy suddenly laughs and tips his head back. Dream knows that his mood is affecting the weather, but at this point he doesn’t fucking care.

His protege says, all too flippantly, “Ah, shit, whoops. Must’ve pissed off that thunder god or whatever. My bad, hope the judgment of the heavens doesn’t get in the way of your hypocritical hostage-and–double-murder attempt.”

These idiots want to kill Tommy? How dare they lay a single finger on him. How dare they so much as consider even looking at Tommy the wrong way. How fucking dare they try to take away the only glimmer of joy in Dream’s life.

First he watches the rest of the interaction– Niki will regret manhandling him like that– then he shifts his focus backwards. There’s no way that the area hasn’t been tampered with in some way.

Time blurs past as he hunts down the information he's looking for.

It doesn't take long to find it.

There are dozens of pitfall traps into piston crushers encircling most of the wooden platform, which itself is right in the middle of a huge field devoid of trees. There's no easy way to get close; even pearls can't reach the platform from before the traps start.

The handful of paths through the traps, though they're marked, have pufferfish detectors all around them and are narrow enough that it would only take a lucky shot or unlucky pearl to send him right into the traps.

The traps snap shut after only a moment or two, meaning that Dream fell in, he’d be unable to pearl back out again.

Burrowing under isn’t an option, either. There are layers of obsidian and observers around everything that protect it. If he tries, he'll get showered with slowness and instant harming potions.

Normal methods won't cut it; he needs to dip into his admin tools. If he had more time to think, plan, and weren’t running on precious few hours of sleep, he could probably find a way around using them, but he knows he’s on a timer.

He doesn't like using his admin abilities against others, but that went out the window the second they set their sights on his protege.

Tommy’s safety is and always will be more important than Dream's distaste.

========

When he teleports to the section of forest nearest to the death trap, he finds another hurdle.

There's a sudden shout from where Tommy is being held captive. "We know you’re there, Dream! Come out or Tommy dies," Quackity demands.

Dream whips his head around to see an observer pointed at him. Shit, he didn't consider that they might have done something like this, too. Careless of him.

Still, showing his face– or, well, mask– is a stupid idea.

He starts climbing up one of the bigger trees, stopping at a solid branch.

With a deep breath, he forces himself to control his emotions enough to get the storm under control. He can be pissed later; right now, all that it's doing is giving him a disadvantage.

He produces a black spawn egg and carefully breathes life and intent into it.

Within moments an enderman stands before him, waiting for what its admin will ask of it.

An unusual quirk of the server, Dream had found, was that all mobs treated him well. Even hostile ones went out of their way to avoid harming him as long as he didn't attack them first.

The most intelligent ones are endermen and piglins. Since a piglin would immediately zombify and lose its intelligence in the overworld, he needs to rely on an enderman for this.

"This is a matter of life and death," he tells it, tone grave. "If this goes wrong, Tommy and I will both die for good." The enderman vwoops in distress, immediately concerned.

It makes him smile ever so faintly behind his mask. "I need you to walk around and set off the observers. When the firework goes off, teleport into the middle of the open area and trigger as many of the traps as you can. If you fall too far, you'll die. But if this fails, you'll die anyway."

He produces a chorus fruit for it, which it unhinges its jaw to immediately consume. He also gives it a blossom from the same plant, which it cradles in its hands in delight.

Tommy had first shown him the odd fruit months ago. He had said it was a gift from a friendly haunting and that it’s the staple food source for endermen.

They started growing them in a side room. Now, endermen will ask to be given the fruit– or, as close as they’re willing to get to asking. Endermen social etiquette is a strange, complicated thing.

There’s no time for reminiscing, though. "You can stop after Tommy and I are gone. If you live, I will give you anything you want. Any blocks, any items, any request. You will have been the key to saving not just my life, but the life of the person most important to me. I would die without him just as quickly as I would die from a stab wound," Dream promises.

The enderman eagerly nods at him.

When Dream reaches a hand up, the mob bows its head so he can gently pat its head. "Thank you," he tells it, and gets a happy rumbling noise not too different from a purr in return.

When he draws his hand back, the enderman teleports itself down and begins its mission.

Dream sets up a dispenser with a firework. The two commands he needs are prepared in his admin console, and he moves so he can approach from a different angle than the enderman is wandering around from.

When he’s satisfied with it, he downs an invis pot and begins to speed bridge.

The key element of his plan is the unassuming, simple barrier block. Between them, the invis, and the enderman, he'll be able to get close enough to grab Tommy without being spotted.

The only problem is that there's another element at play.

Before he gets even a quarter of the way there, Quackity laughs and yells, "Fine, if you want to do this the hard way, we can do that!"

And then he starts slamming splash pots on top of Tommy’s cage.

Even from as far out as he is, Dream can spot the colors and feels a deep, yawning pit of rage and terror open in his chest. It’s poison and instant health in a repeating pattern.

They’re all but torturing Tommy, who is helpless to do anything but sit there and wait for Dream to save him.

In the distance, thunder rumbles. He has to spend a long moment getting his emotions under control. Rain would not only upset and harm his enderman aide, it would reveal the path of barrier blocks.

Once he's back to icy calm, he resumes bridging in, trying to be fast but careful. If he fucks this up, Tommy dies. If Tommy dies, Dream dies.

It's that simple.

The entire time, Quackity shouts taunts, threats, and jabs at both Dream and his protege that make Dream long to be able to just shut him up.

Instead, he does his best to tune the duck hybrid out and focus on the task at hand.

After what seems like an eternity, he’s gotten close enough to be able to get down safely.

Now for the tricky part.

He pulls open his console and sets off the firework.

Pandemonium erupts as his enderman accomplice starts chaotically teleporting around, but Dream ignores it and pearls down.

He rips open the back of the cage, grabs Tommy, and uses the second command to send his protege back to their base.

Once Tommy is safely elsewhere, Dream drops an armful of TnT, lights it. At the last moment and in an act of bitter spite, he shoves Quackity off the platform.

Just as the other two members of the cabinet finally realize he’s there, he teleports himself back to take care of his protege.

Chapter Text

Tommy lays on the floor of their base and Dream can scarcely breathe at the sight.

His student, his heart, the single most vital thing in his life, is violently spasming from the sheer overload of magic. The way he’s been bound, gagged, and blindfolded makes him look small.

The idea that he could ever be anything but a supernova of personality and power seems impossible.

He is vibrant, everything about him saturated with life and color. Tommy is loud and brash and clever– you can’t see him in a room and just ignore his presence.

At least, not without him getting in your face to force you to pay attention to him.

For him to brush so close to the pallid stillness of death is wrong on every possible level.

Making sure he's explaining what he's doing in as calm a tone as he can manage, Dream reaches forward and cuts away the restraints so Tommy is free. He flinches at the touch– it must be bad if he isn't able to process Dream’s voice.

As soon as he puts a hand in his protege’s hair, though, Tommy relaxes. Dream opens the console and carefully erases the potion effects.

Tommy gasps, eyes flying open. Judging by the way they remain unfocused, it seems like he's still not entirely aware of his surroundings.

But he’s alive. That’s all the reason Dream needs to pull him into a crushing hug.

For a fraction of a second, Tommy tenses. But he must quickly realize on some level who is holding him. There’s no other explanation for the way he slumps with relief. He reaches up to grab onto Dream’s hoodie despite the twitches and shudders from the hellish effects of magic overload.

Dream can feel his own body shaking as he finally absorbs just how close Tommy came to being ripped away from him forever.

He clings to his protege and carefully cards a trembling hand through his potion-dampened hair and whispers over and over, "You're okay. I'm here, you're safe. You're okay."

He doesn't know if he's trying to convince Tommy or himself of that.

"D'rm," Tommy croaks out, the name slurred. Dream can’t just fix his overtaxed body, not without risking Tommy’s safety further.

Because of their project, they've seen deaths by magic overload plenty of times by now. They've seen the agony of infusing too much magic into an entity.

So Dream is all too aware of how much danger Tommy is still in.

The sound of his name makes Dream say brokenly, "I almost lost you."

He sees Tommy smile weakly from where his face is pressed against Dream’s chest. He doesn’t doubt that his protege can hear the way his heart is still wildly hammering.

After a moment Tommy mumbles, “Tr’st’d you’d fix 't."

The absolute, unwavering faith in him makes Dream feel a rush of affection. Of course Tommy would believe in him so strongly.

He’s earned Tommy’s loyalty, and that is a nearly unshakable thing.

Tommy would choose death above betrayal. That is an immutable, irrevocable fact; the sky is blue, water is wet, and Tommy is loyal.

He draws his protege a bit closer. Tommy curls into it a little, the way he does when he needs comfort.

Dream carefully resumes carding a hand through his hair as he says, “I almost– you were so–” He cuts himself off, a softly wounded noise escaping.

Tommy gives a quiet sigh and somehow relaxes even further. For a heart-stopping moment Dream is sure that he’s died.

But another involuntary jolt of his protege’s gangly limbs makes him realize that his protege has just slipped into unconsciousness.

He’s reminded of the only other time Tommy had seemed so fragile; when Dream pulled him from that cramped, bloody closet in Pogtopia.

The parallels are painfully obvious. Just like then, this is Dream’s fault; if he had paid more attention to the rest of the server, if he had pushed Tommy more about going with him– if he had stopped his protege from going at all, even!

And his complacency almost cost him his heart.

With a slow, steady exhale, Dream carefully rises from the blackstone tile floor. The movement just makes Tommy whine and cling to him more.

It does wonders to help calm the nearly feral not-quite-him admin part of himself writhing just under his skin.

The price paid for the last time someone harmed Tommy is nothing compared to the toll of blood and pain that Dream will demand for this.

A near-audible hiss in the back of his mind demands he protect and defend that which and who are his. Tommy and the server itself are his hoard, more valuable and precious to him than any material possessions could ever hope to compare with.

But between them, he would choose the former over the latter without hesitation. The server might be a shackle he can never remove, but Tommy is the spark of light and joy that would be pointless to live without.

If he needed to, he would sacrifice everything and everyone for Tommy’s safety.

As Dream carefully settles down on the couch, he can feel the distressed buzzing of his admin drives that spike his anxieties even further.

Tommy isn’t fully safe, not yet. In the short term, Dream needs to monitor his code to make sure that the magic overdose doesn't become lethal and snatch him away at the last moment.

And in the long term…well.

Everyone has taken Dream’s mercy for granted. The lack of respect for both himself and his protege is so painfully clear by now that he feels like a fool for having believed it could exist.

If he allowed any of them to stay, how long before this happens again? How long before they come at them smarter, more determined, more ruthlessly?

What would happen if Dream couldn’t save Tommy in time?

They won’t have to live with the consequences of that. They will be able to leave, or will die in the aftermath.

But Dream wouldn’t have that luxury. He would lose Tommy forever, and nothing could bring him back.

Dream would be alone.

His spiral of dread and anger are sidetracked when Tommy murmurs something Dream can’t quite make out. His protege presses his head up ever so slightly against his hand.

Affection sings through Dream’s veins as he obediently returns to carding a hand through Tommy’s mess of golden curls.

It’s soothing to be able to comfort him with something as simple as this. Especially when he’s clearly in pain. His breathing is labored and irregular, his muscles seize and go limp seemingly at random, and worst of all– he keeps making little whimpers of distress that each crack Dream’s heart even further.

But, despite all of that…every time Dream’s hand finishes a pass through his hair, Tommy immediately tilts his head to meet Dream’s hand just a tiny bit sooner. His hands don’t loosen their grip on Dream’s hoodie, either.

It’s easy to forget just how vulnerable his protege is. He’s so clever and capable that Dream yields to him more than he really should.

But he had been right. The rest of the server– what good does having them around do for them? What makes their peace worth Tommy’s safety and happiness?

Nobody else understands how priceless Tommy is. Nobody else deserves to be gifted with all the tokens, both big and small, tangible and not, of Tommy’s affection.

They’ve proven themselves unworthy.

With the hand that isn’t keeping up that steady motion of running through Tommy’s mop of golden curls, he pulls open Tommy’s code.

As invasive as it is, Dream isn’t not going to risk his protege’s life over mere privacy.

Besides, it's not like it's a secret, or like he’s altering anything unnecessarily. It’s just a precaution; he'll let Tommy know about it once he's awake.

======

Tommy grumbles unhappily, his nose pressing further into the warm fabric that his sluggish brain identifies as freedom-safety-joy-home-mineminemine.

He doesn't want to wake up. Exhaustion weighs him down like an anchor, but unfortunately, his hunger is stronger than that lingering fatigue.

"Dreaaaaam," he finally complains, and then nearly gags at the taste coating in his mouth. Prime, it’s like sugar and rot. What had he–

Memories, blurry and smeared though they might be, crash back over him.

Ah. Yeah. That explains pretty much all his questions. This is the worst possible way to find out that splash pots can soak through cloth if you use enough of them. Blehg, even I can taste it.

Dream pushes a hand through his hair, and it makes Tommy sigh softly in relief.

At least until he abruptly realizes that he’s clinging to Dream’s hoodie in a way that means that he was more or less forced to keep Tommy half upright against his chest.

It's sort of embarrassing, even if Dream seems entirely unbothered by it. I think near death experiences count as a free pass on being as clingy as we want, Innit points out.

His mentor is studying his face like he’s looking for some sign of distress. “How do you feel? Does anything hurt?” “Hands are cramping, I’m tired, and I’m starving. And I have this awful taste in my mouth,” Tommy answers, and reluctantly lets go of his death grip on his mentor’s hoodie.

That Dream doesn’t make the slightest attempt to move is comforting.

He sounds like he’s about five seconds from enacting a literal scorched earth policy as he asks, “...What did they make you drink?”

Tommy sighs dramatically. As much as he’d love to play up the worst parts of being held hostage and used as bait, he can’t really think clearly enough to do so.

Though he is enjoying the righteous fury in his mentor’s expression.

Good. He should be pissed. Maybe he can finally talk Dream into emptying the server of nearly everyone else.

“Nothing,” Tommy admits. “Turns out that if you use enough of them, splash pots can soak into fabric, including gags.”

He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Sugar, rotten flesh, and bile is the actual worst combination of flavors I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve tasted some bad things before. Negative ten out of ten stars; dirt would be a significant improvement.”

Rage flashes like sparks in Dream’s eyes, though he visibly tries to get it under control.

That anger probably should be more distressing than comforting, but all it really does is make Tommy pleased that Dream is pissed about his treatment.

What can he say; he likes that his mentor cares so much.

Obviously trying to focus on something other than his anger, Dream tells him, “...You say that so confidently that I’d almost think you’ve eaten dirt before.”

Tommy’s eyes awkwardly slide away. After a long moment he admits, “...I got curious and bored and– I was a kid, you know how kids are! Not even my incredible pogness can erase weird kid shit!”

Dream wheezes out startled laugher so hard that Tommy doubts he could have kept upright if he was standing. “I was joking,” he gasps as his face turns a bit red, “I didn’t think you’d actually–!”

Tommy glares at him, though with significantly less heat than he’d normally have for this sort of teasing.

They really do both need the levity, even if he’s less than thrilled that it’s at his expense.

“If you want to be a jerk, then do it while getting me food,” he mutters sullenly, eyes narrowing at his mentor. Dream immediately forces himself to calm down and pulls Tommy a little closer in silent protest.

It makes Tommy hum, his expression softening into a little smile.

He doesn’t want to leave our side. Clearly not, if the way Dream’s hand starts moving through his hair again is any indication.

The motion makes Tommy’s eyes lull shut, a quiet sigh escaping as he basks in comfort and the security of being near Dream.

At his side, in their home, he knows that nothing and no one can hope to lay a finger on him.

There is nowhere that could possibly be safer than right here. Far off the beaten path of the server, hidden deep in the ground behind over a dozen rings of admin-alarms, and with his mentor ready to fight to the death for him if anyone dared to breach the sanctity of their base.

Dream is half of his home, half of his heart. Tommy knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Dream holds him in just as high, if not even higher, regard.

The thought makes him smile a little more, because he has very nearly everything he ever wanted right in his grasp.

He is cherished, he is important, he is needed. He has power beyond what any normal person could ever fathom and he has a pair of steadfast, loyal friend-family-home people who he trusts entirely. They are the only two things that truly matter to him.

Tubbo has been by his side through the very worst of what life threw at them, and now Tommy can finally, finally give him the happiness, protection, and comfort he so richly deserves.

Nothing and no one will be able to harm them here– where the world itself will be as pliable as clay in Tommy’s hands.

It will become a paradise of Tommy’s own making.

And Dream…

Well. Dream is the one that showed Tommy just how powerful he actually is. He has spent countless hours carefully instructing Tommy on each of the countless tools in his arsenal. Every time Tommy failed to understand, he would patiently shift his approach until it clicked into place.

Even if some things were learned outside of the scope of his instruction, Dream was still the catalyst for learning them.

He’s the reason Tommy is capable of being the biggest, baddest threat to anyone or anything that stands between him and what he wants.

And right now, what Tommy most wants to do is not move even an inch from where he currently is until he’s forced to. In the back of his head, Innit purrs in agreement.

The combination of fatigue and the familiar, soothing rhythm of Dream carding a hand through his hair very nearly makes him fall asleep again.

His mentor admits quietly, “...I was scared. Even once you were back, I kept…I had your code open for hours. I was sure you’d die.”

Pain and the threat of grief in his voice make Tommy’s eyes open again. He stares at his mentor and sees the fear still in his eyes, and it makes him give another small smile.

Prime, he’s brutally, wonderfully, gloriously attached. The possibility that Tommy could still slip away from him must have been agonizing.

He looks so upset. Make him feel better!

Tommy can’t help the smile from growing into a grin.

There’s a lightness in his voice as he says, “How could I die, with you on my side? I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my safety. Fuck knows I apparently can’t trust myself with it.”

Tone and expression darkening, he adds, “I’m going to kill Jack Manifold, and he’s going to suffer while he dies.”

It doesn’t matter if it had actually been him or if his com was used by someone else. It was still his com, and it was still a breach of Tommy’s tolerance towards the rest of the server.

Thus, Jack will forfeit his life. It’s just that simple.

The idea of their revenge is a heady one that Tommy revels in. His grin grows in both size and sharpness as he continues, “Quackity…I want to show him what that was like. I feel like it would be a real learning experience for him, yeah?”

An unkind laugh escapes. Dream had extended friendship and peace again and again and again– and look where that got them.

Judging by the flinty look in his mentor’s eyes, he’s reached the same conclusion.

"Fundy…the coward will be allowed to run and hide. As soon as he thinks it's over, we can drag him out and kill him. But before anything else, I want to bring Niki to the closet in Pogtopia. Maybe even leave her inside for an hour or two while we mop up the others."

Dream’s fury is sparked again, Tommy’s own rage fueling and boosting it into a roaring inferno. “...How much do you care about New L’manburg?”

Tommy knows damn well what Dream is actually asking.

With a nearly chiding look– it’s almost insulting that Dream would think he’d even consider letting the place remain standing after all of this– he answers, “I want it wiped off the map. I want a crater down to bedrock that nobody will ever dare to build on again. I want it to be a fucking warning to anyone who sees it that to cross us is to summon hell itself in revenge. They’ve gotten away with too much for too long. Now…? They’re going to regret.”

They can get back to what to do with the rest of the server later. It’ll be easier to funnel Dream’s rage into reducing L’manburg and most of its government to atoms than sell him on the idea of kicking the entire rest of the server out.

After they all see the destruction of the country and murder of most of its officials, Tommy knows few would be willing to risk their own lives by staying.

The remnants will be easy to remove– threats, coercion, and carefully stoking the mile-wide protective streak his mentor has of him.

Everyone else will be angry and scared, after all. And people like that…well. Who knows how much of a danger they could pose, if left to their own devices?

Wouldn’t it be better to be rid of them? Not murder, of course– his mentor is too gentle-hearted to accept that sort of solution when most of them have done nothing wrong– but they don’t have to know that.

It won’t be hard. Dream very nearly lost him, the person he has chosen above even his best friends.

Tommy knows, with a self-satisfied smugness, that his mentor would do anything for him. He knows that he is the most precious part of Dream’s life, someone he would abandon everything to keep safe.

The cabinet have wildly miscalculated the possible danger that Tommy and his mentor actually pose. They have fucked around, and they will get a crash course in finding out.

Innit hisses venomously, They’ve no doubt been running around, trying to find an escape route. Quackity might have even left the server.

The idea makes his eyes narrow. He wouldn’t put it past the duck hybrid. “Did anyone leave?” Dream scoffs. “No. They think they can handle us.”

Of course they did. Not even being Dream’s protege and right hand had erased the mental image everyone had of Tommy as a scrappy, snarling, weak puppy. They’re going to learn the hard way that we’ve had a few upgrades since then. They’re going to taste blood and despair before they die.

And maybe that was, in part, a choice that Tommy had made.

But it’s still grating to be so completely discounted.

Before he can say anything about how much they won’t be able to handle Tommy, his stomach chooses that moment to loudly and pointedly protest the continued lack of food.

Dream's expression softens in an instant. “You’re probably starving. I can make something, if you want to go…de-potionify yourself.”

It’s tempting to refuse to do so, because Tommy doesn’t want to move. The warmth of just how cherished he is has settled into his bones. It’s tempting to give in to his fatigue and just fall asleep again.

Even considering getting up feels wrong.

On the other hand, he can feel the potion residue soaked into his clothes and in his hair. Plus the taste in his mouth really is disgusting.

He’ll feel better if he fixes those and then lets Dream fuss over him. And he knows that every second away will upset both of them.

He seems to take a few moments too long to decide, because Dream gives a small smile and says, “I want to be clingy after that. Not being right next to you is going to drive my admin side out of its mind. Innit is probably less than thrilled that I’ll be out of your sight too, if I had to guess.”

Being mentioned makes Innit light up his chest with sparks of joy, though it’s quickly followed by fretting. He must have been really worried, if that part of himself is being so loud. He doesn’t usually split himself up like that. Poor Dream… Tommy snickers softly, and feels annoyance from Innit. Don’t laugh at me! He looks so distressed already, I don’t want to make him feel worse–

“Innit is very concerned about you being upset. Pretty sure it cares more about that than me feeling the gross potion residue,” Tommy conveys.

Dream seems a little pleased by the message, and runs his hand over Tommy’s hair one more time. “Aww. That’s sweet, but you really should take care of yourselves. If you need to, frame it as that being what I want. I’d feel better knowing you’re not uncomfortable.”

It makes Tommy grin, because Innit immediately relents, …As long as we’re not gone long…and he probably didn’t eat either. Tell him to make food for himself. The reminder makes Tommy’s eyes narrow slightly. His admin half is right; there’s no way Dream has taken a fraction of a second to care for himself. “Good point. Make enough for yourself, too, or else I won’t eat.”

Dream looks deeply unhappy at the threat. “You can’t just not eat–” Tommy interrupts, rolling his eyes, “It’s not complicated; just make enough food for the both of us. I can and will starve myself in protest, don’t think I won’t.”

His mentor looks like he’s struggling to stay frowning instead of smiling, so Tommy adds, “If you need to, frame it as that being what we want. We’d feel better knowing you’re not starving, despite having been the one to make food.”

That finally makes Dream crack, giving an incredulous laugh. “You clever little– that’s not fair, you can’t just turn that right back around!” Tommy scoffs at the word. “Fairness is a myth, everything you get is what you rip out of life’s greedy, selfish hands yourself. If things were fair, neither of us would be like we are.”

Despite the attempt at levity, Dream’s smile fades. He stares at Tommy for a few long moments, then carefully presses their foreheads together. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re mine, and I’m yours. We’ll destroy anything and anyone who gets in our way.”

Affection and joy glow in Tommy’s chest like a miniature sun. “They tried to kill you. They’ll pay for that,” he promises, eyes closing for just a moment. Dream hums softly in agreement, and then pulls back.

That’s his cue to move.

It’s with great reluctance that Tommy gets to his feet. He catches the way Dream’s expression turns a little sour, and it makes him grin. He ruffles his mentor’s hair as he passes around the back of the couch.

“Hey–! The ribbon is messed up enough already!” The complaint makes Tommy laugh, because of course that’s Dream’s concern. “I’ll redo it after we eat,” Tommy promises over his shoulder on the way to his room.

Best to get the miserable taste out of his mouth first.

As he brushes his teeth, he reflects a little.

This is where he belongs; with his mentor, his friend, his family, his home, in the server that is theirs. Nothing and nowhere could possibly live up to the impossibly high standards he now has, and even if such a place existed…

It wouldn’t be right, because Dream wouldn’t be there.

The day when his mentor will finally give him admin access is close, but not close enough.

God, he can’t wait to be rid of the rest of the existing residents. Ungrateful assholes whose blatant disrespect has just made Tommy all the more sure that they aren’t worth the time or energy they eat up.

Apart from Tubbo, obviously. Tubbo has proven himself countless times over by now. And even if he hadn’t, he’s one of only two people who Tommy cares about.

Tubbo might not be happy about this, but it’s for the best. Tommy is sick of having to play nice with a bunch of ungrateful fucks who don’t seem to understand just how good they’ve had it.

…Would we let anyone else stay? Sapnap? The suggestion makes Tommy frown.

On one hand, Sapnap is…mostly tolerable. He’s not perfect, but Tommy can appreciate imperfections.

That, and he can’t help but empathize with the way he’s tried to keep the Dream Team together despite the yawning rift George’s cataclysmic departure has caused.

It reminds him of how Tommy himself had, not so long ago, tried to keep the threadbare fabric of his so-called family together. Desperate, afraid, and aware that if he faltered for even a second it would disintegrate in his hands.

But on the other hand, Tommy doesn’t want to share mentor’s attention. Dream is his, and Sapnap doesn’t seem to understand that basic fact.

Sapnap, intentionally or not, fed the fear of abandonment that makes it impossible for Dream to sleep on his own.

There haven’t been any attempts for months now. Why bother? Their rest is better and more peaceful if both Tommy and his mentor can be reassured of how present the other is.

The steady beat of Dream’s heart, and often his hand in Tommy’s hair, is a reminder that he will always be there.

And it’s the same for his mentor. He will have Tommy at his side, forever, unlike Sapnap.

The blaze hybrid will likely only be a half-resident, even if he is allowed to stay. Pulled in too many directions, subtly pushed away by Dream, and grieving in several ways.

One of which will be the death of Quackity, who is directly to blame for the absolute shitstorm that’s going to come down on the rest of the server.

Plus, Sapnap murdered Henry, which was just uncalled for.

Tommy spits out his mouthful of toothpaste, rinses, and then grimaces at the way he can still taste the awful sugar-rot-bile combo. The mouthwash he uses barely does anything either, so he sighs and starts brushing again.

Sapnap is a tentative maybe. If Tommy has Tubbo, then it’s probably best to at least give Sapnap the choice to stay. Better to at least attempt to be reasonable about that instead of having Dream just seethe with jealousy any time Tommy is around his best friend.

But they’ll have to see how Sapnap reacts to the final death of New L’manburg and its leaders to be sure if it’s worth the risk and Tommy’s own jealousy.

Chapter Text

Quackity’s voice is firm and decisive. “We can’t afford to let them get away with this. They attacked us, ambushed us, and they’ll attack again if we don’t go after them first.”

It feels surreal, hearing Quackity of all people– laughing, cheerful, clever Quackity, whose weapons are elegantly delivered words instead of a sword or axe– talk about going into actual combat.

They’re in the meeting room of the White House. It’s been over a day since Fundy came running back, soot-stained and frantic. Nobody could get much of a clear answer as to what had happened from him.

The only thing that Tubbo had been sure about was that Niki and Quackity had died and were respawning. He and Sapnap had been looking after them as the process took place.

It seemed like they were both much more painful than either of Tubbo’s own respawns had been. The visible scars are extensive, too– and Tubbo has no doubt that it looks even worse under their clothes.

What had happened? Why did it happen?

The answers to those questions had needed to wait until Quackity and Niki were coherent again.

Now they are, and it’s with stomach-dropping dread that Tubbo is face to face with his worst nightmare.

Quackity and Niki both lost a life in the trap that Tommy and Dream set up. It was lucky that Fundy was able to escape being caught in it, but it was a very, very near thing.

Fundy is on his last life. They would have killed him.

How could Tubbo defend that sort of– that sort of attack? How could too-smart, painfully bright Tommy decide that he needed to destroy the people that have given Tubbo a sense of companionship when he, himself, had pulled away?

It feels wrong to be faced with Tommy down to demand he pay for this.

It feels wrong to be on the opposite side of anything as Tommy.

But Tubbo can’t stand idly by and try to excuse it any more. Tommy has turned into someone he can’t recognize, someone who hurts and kills others.

Hate surges up for Dream, the person Tommy never should have let himself be involved with. He’s been corrupted by that sadistic asshole, his unwavering loyalty used and abused–

His com buzzes, and he pulls it out to see who it is on autopilot.

Dream: need your help

Before he can type an outraged reply– how dare he ask for his help after what he did– more messages come through.

Dream: they took Tommy’s com
Dream: used it to send a message to try and kill us both
Dream: tortured Tommy with poison and health
Dream: he's passed out
Dream: magic overdose might still kill him

He looks up quickly at his fellow cabinet members, who are making battle plans with a grim-faced Sapnap. None of them are focused on him at the moment.


Tubbo: hw do I know its not a trick?
Dream: call him.

With shaking hands, he navigates to Tommy’s contact info, and presses the call button.

Loud and familiar music sounds out.

The entire room looks around in confusion, because they know that’s not from any of them.

Or, it shouldn’t be.

Tubbo stands up and demands, “Why do you have Tommy’s com?”

Quackity smoothly says, “Tubbo, Tubbo, what are you talking about? Tommy tried to–” Tubbo interrupts him, “Then that’s not his com ringing? Prove it. Answer that call.”

The ringing continues. He sees Fundy try to sneak a hand into his jacket pocket.

Tubbo darts forward and yanks the com out, holding it up for everyone else to see. He notices Sapnap pale a little, his eyes going between the com and Quackity over and over in confusion.

The tone Tubbo uses is sharp and demanding. “Fundy, why the fuck do you have Tommy’s com?” When all he gets is stammering, he adds, “And why did Quackity try and lie about it? Why is Dream telling me you tortured Tommy and tried to kill them both?”

Niki tries, “Tubbo, it’s not like that–” The goat hybrid snaps at her, “Then what is it like?!”

Sapnap has his own com out, and is rapidly typing something. The call request finally times out, leaving only eerie silence in its wake.

There’s a frustrated twist to Quackity’s tone as he argues, “They’re threats, Tubbo. They already killed Eret–” Tubbo cuts him off. “So you decided to kill them back?!”

Voice growing more annoyed, like he can’t believe that Tubbo isn’t on board for this, Quackity tells him, “Yes, okay! I won’t let the people I care about be hurt by them! They killed Eret, and it’s only a matter of time before they go after everyone else, too!”

Tubbo stares at the president, seeing the resolve in his eyes. This isn’t a matter that Quackity will budge on– and, apparently, Fundy and Niki are in agreement.

There’s no point in arguing. He says simply, “I quit.”

Quackity scoffs, “Tubbo, you can’t just quit–”

Again, he cuts the president off. “I did and I will. I won’t be party to…to you taking things into your own hands! You still don’t have proof they were the ones who killed Eret, and you don’t…you have no idea what you’ve done. You haven’t saved anyone, you’ve put them in danger,” Tubbo warns.

It was one thing when he thought that Tommy and Dream had attacked first. This, though…this isn’t the answer.

None of them have caught the confidence Tommy carries himself with now, the subtle ways his body language has changed. While Tommy still refuses to have a real sparring match with him, Tubbo knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tommy is much more of a threat in a fight than he ever has been before.

That’s not even getting into how he can twist people into dancing to his tune, nor whatever secret tricks Tommy has learned from Dream.

The only other person who could possibly have any idea of just how capable Tommy is would be Sapnap. Even then, that’s just because he knows Dream and what he might have taught his protege.

Dream is an entirely different matter from Tommy. The server’s admin has proven ready and willing to go to bat for whatever cause he believes in. As much as Tubbo hates to admit it, he’s sort of like Tommy in that way.

The two of them have been defensive on each others’ behalf over just snide comments or quips. Tommy has actively been fucking with anyone who badmouths Dream– who, notably, either doesn’t notice or quietly approves of the manipulation.

But whatever the fuck happened wasn’t just a few words. It had been an active, legitimate attempt to kill both of them. Targeting one of them might, maybe, be survivable, especially if it was just in relation to themselves.

He’s not positive about Dream, but Tommy would fight a hundred times harder on behalf of someone else than he would for himself.

He’s one of my people, Tommy’s voice echoes in his mind. Like it or not, Dream has obviously done something to earn a place among those precious few.

So New L’manburg is as good as gone already. He’s sure that nobody else really understands that fact.

Tommy has been quiet about his distaste of New L’manburg around others. Even around Tubbo, it’s only been the occasional annoyed comment.

If Tubbo didn’t know him so well, it would be harder to see how much contempt Tommy holds for…pretty much everyone but Tubbo and Dream, actually.

There had been one or two comments made about how Tommy wanted to get rid of the rest of the server. Never around anyone else, and he’s quick to try and redirect the conversation if Tubbo tries to call him out on it.

But it’s still clear that this is exactly the sort of thing that will let Tommy convince Dream that the rest of the server is too dangerous to keep around.

The best case scenario is that they only target New L’manburg and the rest of the server is ejected.

Worst case scenario…there could be a lot of blood that gets spilled. A lot of people could be hurt.

Maybe it’s stupid of him to want to minimize the impending deaths. Maybe it’s naive to try to use Tommy’s affection to at least save the lives of those who did nothing wrong.

Tubbo still has to try.

And part of that is going to involve understanding how Dream would respond.

He looks at Sapnap and asks, “You know Dream. How will he react to this?” The blaze hybrid doesn’t answer, so Tubbo presses, “Sapnap. How will Dream react?”

The sound of his name makes Sapnap jerk his head up from his com. His face is paler than Tubbo has ever seen it before. “I don’t…” he swallows, and glances at the battered, lightly singed device in his hands.

Sapnap takes a shaky breath and says, “The Revolution? That’s going to look like nothing. Whatever he does, it’s…it’s going to be bad. Q, Fundy, Niki you need to– you have to leave. He’s not going to let you off with a ban, you tried to kill someone he cares about. He doesn’t– Tommy apparently might still die. You have a window, and if you miss it, he will kill you.”

Quackity protests, “Sap, babe–” “No, no, you don’t understand,” Sapnap insists. There’s a sense of urgency in his voice as he continues, “He doesn’t fuck around with this sort of thing. Wilbur? There are exactly two reasons he didn’t just kill him. One of them was because Techno would have retaliated. The second was because he was worried about Tommy.”

The memory of how Dream had treated him in the aftermath of Hammertime comes to Tubbo’s mind, unbidden. Healing, food, protection, using Dream’s own room– all of it had been offered with little comment or fuss.

And all of that had been because Dream wanted to appease Tommy. He had even admitted that much to both Tubbo and Tommy’s faces.

Tubbo agrees, “On top of that, you pissed off a spiteful, angry person who has spent months learning from Dream. Tommy won't let you get away with trying to hurt one of his people, and worse, trying to use him to do that. Sapnap is right; you all need to leave. If you stay, you’ll die.”

There’s a bitter bite to Niki’s words as she says, “Wilbur shouldn’t have been banned at all, there wasn’t–” Sapnap interrupts her, demanding, “Seriously?! You still don’t think– holy fuck, Niki, Tommy was almost dead when Dream brought him back.”

The blaze hybrid sounds disgusted with her. Tubbo can’t help but agree; he had seen how bad Tommy was, back then. Maybe not immediately when Tommy was rescued, no. But Tubbo had seen how weak he had been after the server meeting. He had seen how Tommy fell asleep with just a scant few minutes– while other people were still outside.

In a snap second decision, Tubbo tells her, “He was trapped in a closet for five days. No food, no water, nothing. He was putting on a front for the server meeting. He could barely walk. And if you really want to blame someone? Blame me.”

He steps forward, into her personal space. He isn’t particularly tall, but he draws himself up to his full height.

Chin held high he continues, “Wilbur got banned because Tommy wanted Schlatt banned. We were in a call when he heard how Schlatt was treating me. Tommy was the one to make the offer. Wilbur wasn’t well, and Tommy recognized that he wouldn’t ever get better while he was here. He let Wilbur be banned because he needed more help than he could give.”

Niki looks pale, and says weakly, “No. He wouldn’t have– he wouldn’t. It has to be a lie–”

“I was there when Dream brought Tommy back,” Sapnap adds. “I saw how bad he was. It’s not a lie. You don’t know Dream, and you don’t know how gutted he was, even back then. That’s only going to be even more true now; for some reason, he’s decided Tommy is more important than anyone and anything else. You all need to leave. He won’t hold back.”

A hint of hurt creeps into the blaze hybrid’s voice. Tubbo knows why; Sapnap doesn’t understand why Dream has pulled away and gotten so attached to Tommy.

Tubbo doesn’t understand, either.

Voice rising, Quackity argues, “Then he’ll just come after us, so we need to stand our ground–” “No,” Sapnap cuts in, “Dream won’t go after you.”

“So you want us to believe someone who would be angry enough to kill us will just– let it go, if we leave the server?” Despite the incredulous tone Fundy has, Sapnap just sighs and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “It’s…it’s complicated. But, yeah. He…he doesn’t care about anything outside of this server. Q, please, you need to trust me on this.”

“And what about Tommy? Even if Dream doesn’t care–” Niki’s argument gets interrupted by Tubbo. “He doesn’t want to leave, either. I tried to get him to go do something a while back, he acted like I kicked a puppy. Even if he would normally chase after you, he’s not going to leave Dream’s side. Dream hasn’t left since the server was started. Sapnap has been his friend for years. If he thinks it’s the best chance you have, you should listen.”

Dream not leaving is a weird detail that Tubbo hadn’t noticed until Tommy had been so offended by the idea of leaving the server.

But Tubbo had been much more focused on how strange Tommy’s response had been. He had acted like it would be an offense to Dream.

Why? It didn’t make sense then, it didn’t make sense when Tubbo had asked for a reason, and it doesn’t make sense now.

He’s long since added it to the list of things Tommy has grown cagey or defensive over.

Sometimes he seems the same as always, but other times…

Other times he almost seems like a new person.

Fundy speaks up again, demanding, “And what about the country? What, are you going to take charge?”

Tubbo looks at him, considering that. The only reason he’s stayed is because he believed in his fellow cabinet members.

He believed in Quackity’s vision for the country, a governance by words instead of by sword. He believed that Niki used her diamond spine only when kindness had been exhausted. He believed that Fundy was a friend, someone reliable and that he could lean on.

Clearly, he was an idiot to have believed any of that.

Bitterness lingers on the back of his tongue as he says, “I think this place is cursed; nobody in charge stays happy or sane. I’m not going to be the fourth ill-fated president. So whoever wants it? They’re welcome to take it. It really just…wasn’t meant to be.”

The rest of the room flinches at those words. They know the history and what it means that Tubbo is saying them now.

Niki presses, “You agreed to fight–” Tubbo raises his voice, telling her, “When I thought it was an unprovoked ambush! None of you understand Tommy–” Niki cuts in again, arguing, “You keep saying he’s changed, so why are you still defending him?!”

Tubbo shakes his head, taking a step backwards to the door. “He doesn’t need me to fight his battles. He fought a war and challenged Dream to a duel despite having no training. He did that to try and make Wilbur happy. Someone as devoted as that isn’t the kind of person you piss off. Now he’s pissed at you three and doesn’t just have training, he has a PVP legend at his back.”

None of them seem to understand. Sapnap, again, is the only exception– understanding seems to hit him like an anvil to the head.

Tommy and Dream are dangerous when they want to be. They hide their capacity for harm most of the time, but it's still there.

The cabinet has given them plenty of reason to unsheathe their claws.

It’s painful to realize how dismissive the people he considered his friends are of Tommy. He tells them, “I’m not going to help you. I don’t think I could help you, even if I would. Tommy wouldn’t listen to me about Wilbur or the duel. He’d have even less reason to listen this time.”

He doesn’t say that he thinks he can help the rest of the server. He doesn’t need to; it won’t concern any of them. Either they listen to him and Sapnap, or they stay and die.

Hopefully they listen. But there’s no point to staying and talking in circles.

Before he can get the doors open, Niki says, quietly, “...What do you– what do you mean about Wilbur?”

He looks at her over his shoulder. “...He’s always resented Tommy. Tommy was just too loyal to abandon him. He was nearly killed for that. Whatever Wilbur told you, they’re lies. I’ve noticed he uses a lot of those.”

And then he leaves, because he needs to get in touch with Dream.

After all, Tommy will want his com back when he wakes up.

Chapter Text

Dream and his protege stand side by side at their kitchen table, a map of the SMP spread out in front of them.

Their planning is fueled by the low buzz of distress from their nearly overwhelming need to destroy the idiots who have dared to bite the hands that fed them.

It would be bad enough if you just fucked with an item that an admin cares about. But to lay so much as a finger on a person they’ve claimed…?

That’s suicide.

New L’manburg is going to learn that lesson the hard way.

This entire time, Dream has held back. The Revolution was the first example, though it was far from the last.

He could have crushed the entire fledgling country under his heel with no more effort than it would have taken to step on a sweet berry.

But he had wanted to be fair to all of them. It wasn’t their fault that their attempt to carve a place for themselves grated against Dream like sandpaper. They couldn’t know that this place doesn’t just belong to him, isn’t just his prison, but is him.

Tommy’s presence had complicated matters, too. As much as Dream had tried to avoid taking lives, it became clear that Tommy would continue to be a threat until he was forced to stop.

So stop him Dream did.

But conflict continued regardless. Pogtopia, Hammertime, Eret and Connor’s deaths, New L’manburg’s plot– all of it had the clear, undeniable theme of others abusing Dream’s mercy and leniency.

No matter how angry he got, Dream had never wanted to misuse his abilities. The power that is the only benefit to the cage he’s trapped in had felt wrong.

Because they had no way of knowing what he could do. Not even Sapnap and George knew– and Dream had been reluctant to let them know.

The more he had told him, the more it felt like he was lording that power over them. He hadn’t wanted to be different. He hadn’t wanted to be special; all he wanted was to stay at his friends’ side.

Look where that got him.

He had been so desperate to keep someone, anyone, at his side that he accepted whatever labels or snide little snubs were thrown his way.

Even after Tommy joined him, even after Tommy picked up the pieces of Dream’s broken heart and vowed to stay here forever, Dream still feared that loneliness.

He feared it so much that he couldn’t imagine striking back against anyone.

Time and time again, Dream has stood by the mentality of kindness. He holds his tongue, he stays his hand, he urges those around him to stay calm, be rational, be peaceful–

And this, this, is how his mercy has been repaid.

They tried to kill Tommy. They almost did kill Tommy; his life had hung in the balance for most of the night. Every involuntary spasm dug sharp, icy claws into Dream’s chest. Every quiet hitch of Tommy’s labored breathing or soft whimper of pain had been a knife in Dream’s heart.

Each one had all felt like he was standing at the very edge of a cliff above the void. All of those little signs had made Dream sure that he had failed in protecting Tommy. He had been positive that at the last moment, the magic overdose would spirit his most precious person away forever.

And that cataclysmic loss would kill him. He needs his protege, his heart, his Tommy to be at his side. He needs to offer their world to him, to finally be able to give him exactly what he wants.

Tommy deserves to hold the world, their server, in his hands and mold it into whatever shape he choses. Tommy deserves to hold his head high, proud and thrumming with the full power of an admin.

And Dream needs to protect him, no matter the cost.

Dream’s attempts to be fair almost resulted in the murder of only person who can truly understand him. His stubborn insistence on playing nice almost led to Tommy being stolen from his rightful place.

Fuck that. He’s done putting Tommy at risk for others who feel no obligation to follow even basic decency.

“If we just ban the rest of them, the people who need to die might just run,” Tommy points out. Despite the cold bite to his words, his eyes are lit by a hunger for vengeance.

But, in contrast to both of those, he’s leaning a little of his weight against Dream.

He must still be shaken by the ordeal he’s just been through. Tommy is likely hiding most of his distress. It’s obviously there; he’s jumpier, clingier, and angrier than usual.

Like he’s done so many times before, Dream runs his hand through his protege’s fluffy mess of curls.

It seems like it’s just an automatic response for Tommy to gently press his head into that offered comfort. He relaxes a little, because he knows that Dream is there. Tommy is safe with him in the place he belongs; at Dream’s side.

This is the only part of the world that actually matters. The rest of it is worth discarding, for Tommy’s sake.

Despite his attempt to soothe his protege, Dream argues, “Fighting one on one isn’t an option.” He can’t and won’t risk the chance that they pull some sort of trick to rip out the vital organ that Tommy has become.

Tommy scoffs softly. “No shit. Even if we’d win, it’s not worth the risk.” He leans further against Dream, like a silent reassurance. I’m here, he’s saying. I’ll always be here. “You’re too important to put in danger just for revenge.”

A rush of affection almost catches him off guard with how strong it is. Leave it to his protege to soothe him, despite it having been Tommy who was hurt.

Dream smiles, using the pen in his other hand to point to the overhead view of New L’manburg. “So,” he continues, “we wipe it off the map. We make an obsidian grid above it, set TnT droppers up–” Tommy interrupts to ask, “Why obsidian?”

The question makes Dream blink a few times. “What do you mean, why obsidian? It’s the only block that can stand up to TnT.”

Tommy turns and sets his hands on Dream’s shoulders. “Big man…that’s only true if we play fairly. We just agreed fair and nice are off the table.” He grins, his eyes lighting up a little more.

His protege continues, “Make it bedrock– or, hell, even barrier blocks! Make the whole thing invisible to everyone until it’s too late to run. Bing, bang, boom, New L’manburg is atomized. No hope, no escape, no survivors.”

…Tommy sounds a little too casual about this. Just a few weeks ago, Dream would have scolded him for it. He would have said that they were above that sort of thinking; that they needed to be responsible, to take the high road.

But they tried to murder Tommy.

Thus, they don’t deserve mercy.

Just when Dream opens his mouth to agree, Tommy adds, “Aside from Tubbo, of course.”

Irritation and frustration bubble up at the name. Fucking Tubbo. Why does he matter? Hasn’t Tommy been held back by him enough? Hasn’t Tommy sacrificed too much for him already?

Dream points out, “And if we give him warning, he’ll turn and tell his buddies–” “Don’t be stupid, Tubs would never,” Tommy interrupts. He sounds annoyed, like he’s explaining something Dream should already know.

All Dream knows is that he wants Tubbo gone. He wants the shackle around Tommy’s ankle to finally be snapped off.

This is their world. Just him and Tommy; nobody else deserves to be here. None of them are worthy of the incomparable treasure that is his protege’s company.

Tubbo has sided with the enemy before, and he’ll do it again. Even if Tommy can’t see that, Dream can.

Or, even worse; in the same way that Tommy had been used as bait for Dream, Tubbo could be used as bait for Tommy.

That makes Tubbo a threat to both of them. “Maybe not intentionally,” Dream reluctantly cedes, “but if they held a knife to his throat–”

In a blur of motion, a dagger gets slammed down on the grey and white mass that marks the White House on the map. Tommy hisses darkly, “They try and I put their insides on the outside.”

“But like you said; we can’t take the risk. You could get hurt,” Dream insists.

Why can’t Tommy see that they don’t need Tubbo? Why can’t he understand that Tubbo is useless, a dead weight that could destroy them both?

Tommy’s eyes narrow. “You’d better not be implying what I think you are.”

There’s a clear warning in his tone. Paired with that is Tommy taking a step back– away from Dream’s hand on his head, away from his side.

Away from where he belongs.

Tommy’s body language changes; he tenses, aggressive, and tells Dream, “I’m not going to just– you can’t hurt Tubs. I’m not gonna let you do that.”

Anger sparks in his chest. How dare Tubbo be able to drive a wedge between them like this? He doesn’t understand Tommy, not like Dream does.

He argues, “Tommy, be reasonable–” “Reasonable? Reasonable?!”

The words rise both in volume and sheer, indignant outrage.

Tommy snarls at him, “You don’t get to decide that one of my people is better off dead. Tubbo matters too much for me to–” “He’s dangerous! He’s too weak, too easy to target because everyone knows you care about him–”

Tommy draws himself up to his full height. If Dream didn’t know him so well, he would probably be intimidated.

His protege snaps, "Then what's the point?!" The admin opens his mouth to argue further, but Tommy cuts him off.

He throws his hands wide and continues, "If I can't protect Tubbo, if I'm not strong enough to do that, then what the fuck has this all been for?! If he gets hurt, I– Dream, you don't get it. You've had people! Maybe not perfect ones, but fuck, they were there! Tubbo has– he's been everything to me”.

Horrifyingly, Tommy’s voice cracks. He’s getting emotional, and it’s about Tubbo.

The person who has replaced his heart continues, “You– you've had tournaments and fans and friends and here, even if they’re all flawed. Me, all I– Tubbo is it. Nothing had been mine but him for so fucking long.”

Dream can barely hear what Tommy is saying; all he hears is static and the words then what's the point echoing endlessly.

The point was so that Tommy could stand at Dream’s side forever. It had all been to forge their paradise, with the chosen few they allowed to remain around them. All of it was so that they could live in peace.

Not that they’d let any of them stay after this, of course. They’ll be ejected once New L’manburg and its leaders are dead.

But to say that it’s all been for nothing means that Tommy has stopped believing in that goal. He’s having doubts, and he’s having them because of fucking Tubbo.

Terror and nausea make it almost impossible to breathe, because he's going to leave. Tommy is– he's going to choose Tubbo.

He’s done it before. He’s proven that he will pick Tubbo above even others he has given his loyalty to. He had bargained for Soot's ban in exchange for removing a threat against Tubbo.

They're going to walk away hand in hand and Dream will be left with a jagged, gaping hole where his co-admin, his joy, his heart should be. Dream will be abandoned in his lonely, miserable cage, and Tommy will vanish like a mirage.

He won’t be safe. Dream can’t protect him, not if he’s somewhere that he can’t reach.

Every single character of code in him howls in a cacophony of pure agony at even just the idea.

It can't happen. Tommy can't leave him, no matter what.

His student scoffs at him, lip lifting a little in a sneer. "If you're going to be that much of a stubborn asshole about this, I'm not going to waste my breath on you."

Before Dream can stem the mounting fear long enough to beg for him not to go, not to throw him away, Tommy turns on his heel and leaves the room.

A few moments later the door to his room slams like the final nail in his coffin.

No. No, it's not too late; he hasn't left yet. There has to be a way to fix this, to make everything okay again.

Tommy has become the blood in his veins, the marrow in his bones, the very foundation of his happiness. Without him, this place would be a bleak prison– made worse for the fact that it brushed so close to being paradise for a few all too brief months.

That's a fate worse than death. He would rather die than let that happen.

It would be impossible to keep him safe. He could be hurt or killed in any number of ways– tortured, maimed, made to suffer in more ways than Dream could possibly fathom.

And Dream would be trapped here, never knowing what happened. He could spend weeks or months or eternity waiting, hoping, desperate for any hint of what happened to his beloved protege.

But Tommy would be dead. He would be dead, forever, because Dream made the mistake of not making him stay.

Nobody else can be trusted with Tommy’s safety. Not even Tommy himself; and he had admitted as such, hadn’t he? That he should have listened to Dream, that his choice had been the wrong one.

It’s simple, then– he has to make sure that nothing can convince him to leave. That means Tubbo has to be gotten rid of.

But the problem is that if Dream just kills him, then Tommy would know. He wouldn’t stop to listen to why; the second the chime sounded, Tommy would be too angry to do anything but lash out at Dream in the worst way he possibly could.

And that would mean he would still leave.

There's not time to figure out if he can somehow lock the server down, either. Even if he could, Tommy could just call for help. He might hate his former family, but he wouldn’t be above using them to get revenge.

Dream doesn’t know if Techno and Phil have some way of breaking into a server. He can’t take the risk of that, either.

Sure, Dream could take Tommy’s com…but that just meant that he would use his mod console instead, which would be even harder to stop.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! He doesn't know how to make Tommy be more loyal to him over Tubbo. If only there was–

He stops. He looks at his inventory and the trident inside it.

…An enchantment. Their project.

If he’s lost Tommy’s willing loyalty, he can’t afford to be picky about morality or ethics. No matter how much the thought makes bile rise at the back of his throat, he's going to have to choke it back down.

Letting Tommy go isn't an option.

In time, he’ll understand that this is a necessary evil.

Chapter Text

Awareness filters back in slowly, like sunlight does through water.

Tommy’s first coherent thought is that he feels wrong.

He must give some sort of sign that he’s in distress, because Dream’s hand smooths through his hair like it always does.

It’s impossible to resist leaning into it, because if Dream is here and messing with his hair, then everything must be fine. Maybe Tommy is just sick?

Innit is awfully quiet, though.

That thought is what makes him force his eyes open to look over at his mentor.

Dream is watching him with what almost seems like a guilty expression. Guilty but…upset? Mad? It’s a confusing blend of emotions that Tommy hasn’t seen from him before.

It’s further evidence that something isn’t right.

“What…” He can barely get the word out through the static in his brain. It reminds him of the immediate aftermath of the attempted execution; he can’t quite repress a shudder at the memory.

Something nudges insistently at his mind, but he’s too distracted by the way Dream’s expression softens. He has that little smile that he always gets when he’s trying not to be too distracted by how happy Tommy makes him.

And fuck, hadn’t that been a thrill to realize. For all that he played the big badass, Dream could be brought to his knees if Tommy seemed upset enough.

Fondness surges through him, and the way Dream’s smile only grows makes him suspect he knows that Tommy knows. Bastard.

A snort comes from his mentor. “You’re pretty out of it, huh?” He sounds amused, which is sus of him.

What, did he develop mind reading while Tommy slept? Unfair. He has to tell him if admins can do that shit.

“You’re talking out loud,” Dream tells him. No he’s not. His mentor looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “You definitely are.” “I’d know if I was talking out loud,” Tommy protests, and then blinks.

Oh. Maybe he has been talking out loud.

…Why is he doing that? Dream’s amusement dies like a flame starved of oxygen. Worrying.

And if Dream is concerned, then it’s something to be on alert for. “S’ something wrong?” That guilt-mad-weird look returns, and Dream’s eyes slide off to the side.

Something is definitely wrong.

Unease pulses in Tommy’s veins in time with his heart.

Not just the situation– he feels wrong.

Fuck, what did he do that made him feel like this? The last thing he remembers is– is–

He had been arguing with Dream. About Tubbo, and warning him about destroying New L’manburg.

The plan had been to let Dream calm down for a few hours, but Tommy doesn’t…remember falling asleep. He doesn’t sleep anywhere but curled up next to Dream, anyway.

What the hell happened?

Innit has been entirely silent. That’s the biggest indicator that something is deeply fucking wrong here.

His admin side is– it’s a chatty bastard. It likes to talk, but then again, it can’t do much else.

It should be speaking. Why isn’t it speaking?

His confusion must show, because Dream pulls him into a hug that he can’t help but sink into.

It feels weirdly satisfying, like an itch he couldn’t quite reach has been scratched.

This is wrong this is wrong this is wrong what HAPPENED, Innit hisses, going from nothingness to full awareness in the blink of an eye.

“What did you..?” The question makes Dream hold onto him tighter. His mentor tells him, “It’s– it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” A low whine escapes as Tommy feels a jolt of pain.

But, well, if Dream doesn’t want him to worry, who was he to argue?

WHAT DID HE DO?! The panicked mental shout is enough to make Tommy flinch, but it’s– it’s a good question.

Why did he stop worrying? Since when does he just drop something like that?

He’s Tommy Prime-damned Innit, he doesn’t drop jack and shit without a good reason.

It’s enough to send Innit into near-hysterics, muttering to itself about things being wrong and generally having a fucking meltdown in his head.

A well deserved one, because something is very, very fucking off here.

Dream shushes him softly when pain courses through him again, worse this time. It feels almost like a migraine, but– deeper. More intense. In his soul, sort of.

“Hey, hey,” Dream soothes, that familiar hand moving through his hair again. The pain eases in an instant and Tommy can’t help but lean into that show of affection.

Shit, he’s getting to be more and more like a dog with every day that passes, isn’t he?

Suddenly, Innit’s mutterings stop. …A dog. Like we're– no. No, he wouldn’t. Dream, you– his admin side sounds nervous. What? What did it–

Ask him why we’re feeling more loyal than we should. Cryptic as ever, thanks.

But Innit usually has its reasons and they're often good ones, so Tommy dutifully asks, “Why do I feel more loyal than I should?”

Dream goes rigid.

That seems like a confirmation of whatever the fuck Innit suspected. He can feel its dread and horror, but he doesn’t understand. What does it know?

It struggles to compose itself enough to answer; it sounds like it’s sobbing as it tries to explain, It’s– he put the– item enchantment. Trident. Loyalty.

Horror washes over him. Tommy shoves himself away from Dream. Or, he tries to– Dream doesn’t let him go.

“You didn’t. Fucking– tell me you didn’t,” Tommy demands. Innit has to be wrong, there has to be some other– Dream wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

“You were going to leave,” Dream says softly, and Tommy is– so fucking confused! “What? What the fuck are you– why would I leave? Everyone is on edge right now, they’d just lock me up again or something worse–”

Dream corrects, voice still soft, “Not the base. The server.”

Icy clarity washes over both Tommy and his monster. Dream– he really thought he would just…walk away. Abandon him, even after everything Tommy has done.

Months of training, countless reassurances that Tommy wants to be here more than anything, knowing firsthand what it would do to his mentor, Tommy’s desperation for a home– none of it seems to have factored into this choice.

Despite all of that, Dream thought he was so fucking fickle he would leave. Innit whispers with numb horror, So he made sure we couldn’t.

Somehow, that his mentor’s trust in him is flimsy enough that he’s resorted to this hurts more acutely than knowing that he enchanted Tommy like a fucking trident.

Maybe that bit just hasn’t fully sunk in yet, though.

Tears pool in his eyes as he whispers, “That’s all it took? That was all it took to make you think–” he cuts himself off, a quiet sob lacing his words.

The soul-deep pain feels like nothing compared to the knives driven in his heart.

Like he can feel the grip he has on Tommy’s heart faltering, Dream hurries to explain, “I couldn’t take the risk you might leave. I can’t protect you if you’re not here, and I can’t trust anyone else to keep you safe.”

A manic edge coats Dream’s words as he continues, “But now we can– we can fix it! We can set everything right. We can just be rid of everyone. That’s what you wanted all along, anyway. You wanted it to just be us. You were right; they aren’t worth it. You’re the only one who matters.”

Sickening dread washes over Tommy and Innit alike all over again.

He’s going to kill Tubbo. Tubbo is going to die. There’s no other reason that his mentor would go this far. “Dream,” he says, the name more misery than syllables as he struggles against the suddenly suffocating hug.

No, we can change his mind! He was just– he was just scared, he’s not– we can make a plan. We can compromise! Something has to be good enough. He wouldn’t…he can’t. He can’t, Innit tries to reason.

“Please,” Tommy whispers, the tears spilling over. “Just– we can talk. I was never– I’d never– you matter so much. But Tubbo does too, and I– I can’t just let him die. Let him walk away. I’ll never– I’ll never talk to him again. Please. Please.”

His pride is worth nothing right now. He’ll shred it to confetti himself if it gets him any closer to saving Tubbo.

Dream answers, “He’ll fight for you.” “I can– I can tell him I hate him! His fucking– his boss and his other buddies tried to kill us, that’s plenty of reason right there! As far as I know, he could have been a part of it!”

There’s a calmness to Dream’s voice that only increases the pit of despair in Tommy’s stomach. “You taunted them with the fact that he wasn’t there. They’ll know you’re lying.”

Tommy argues, “They already think I’m a liar anyway, and it just gives him more reason to hate me–!” “It’ll hurt now, but you’ll see. You’ll understand eventually,” Dream tells him, his hand going through Tommy’s hair again.

“Then ban everyone! That’s– there’s no need to kill him, he can’t do anything if he can’t get in!” There’s a frantic pitch to Tommy’s voice, his usual ability to carefully dissect a situation evaporated in the face of his dread.

Dream points out, “He’d run straight to Techno, who would go to Phil, and together they’d find a way to take you from where you belong.”

Every too-easy deflection has Tommy scrambling for something, anything that might work.

“I’ll hate you forever,” he gasps, in some vain hope that will be enough. The familiar features of his room are blurred by his tears. “I’ll never forgive you.”

The hand in his hair stills. Dream sighs softly, “...I don’t like you being upset, especially with me, but…losing you would be worse. Losing you is death. I’d rather have you pissed off than gone. If you’re gone, I can’t protect you. I need you to be safe.”

His mentor continues, “Once you’ve calmed down again, after they’re all gone– I can get rid of the enchantment and make you an admin.”

It’s too detailed; he’s thought about this too much already. Innit tells him, Admin! If we’re admin, we can’t leave, it would just kill us– “Then why wait,” Tommy tries, “if you’re so scared of them taking me, then just– make me admin now! We ban them all, and then just– just you and me, forever–!”

Dream sighs, long and tired. Hope exists for a fraction of a second, delicate as a newly hatched butterfly–

And then it’s mercilessly crushed in his mentor’s fist.

Like he’s scolding him, his mentor tells him, “I’m not an idiot, Tommy. You’d just let Tubbo back in the second my back turned. Or, worse– you’d bring Techno and Phil running. No…there’s no other option. He has to die. They all do, really. It’s the only way to be sure.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this can’t be happening. If Dream is willing to kill everyone for this, Tubbo’s odds of survival have just taken an even sharper nosedive than before.

Before Tommy can even really process how committed Dream is, his mentor speaks again. “And don’t give them any reason to think anything is wrong.”

The sheer agony of the order rips a shriek from him. Dream immediately soothes, “Shh, I know it’s hard now–” “It hurts,” he wails, because it fucking does! Emotionally, physically, spiritually– every single line of code in him is in pain.

“It’ll get better,” Dream promises.

No. Tommy and Innit both know that for certain; the lighting bolt misery that they’ve been fucking cursed with will only get less bearable, not more. “No, it hurts!”

His sob makes Dream almost waver, a little uncertain. “...The orders hurt?” “Death was easier,” Tommy chokes out.

“Don’t joke about that,” Dream automatically snaps. It’s a thing he’s said before; Dream hates being reminded of Tommy’s deaths. It’s a sore spot, and one that Tommy has been able to leverage to excellent effect in the past.

Except this time, there’s a wave of white hot suffering that floods through Tommy’s body with the demand. The scream and involuntary spasm it causes make Dream flinch and start to pull away.

It feels like Tommy is being atomized, his soul worn down until even dust is a distant memory. Desperate to ease the pain, Tommy clings onto his mentor.

He can’t even speak any more through the agony; the only drive he has is to make it stop.

This person is who fixes everything, who soothes his worst fears, who guards his sleep and has given him the world. If he leaves, there will be nothing and no one to stop Tommy from shattering entirely.

“Tommy?!” Freedom-safety-joy sounds alarmed, but words are fucking– they’re long beyond his understanding.

One of the pillars of his heart smooths a hand through his hair, uncertainly, like he’s not sure if it’s the right thing to do.

It is. The sheer relief is almost enough to make him pass out; he desperately pushes his head into the gesture to try and make sure it doesn’t vanish like a mirage.

Vaguely, Tommy realizes he’s shaking like a leaf and sobbing half hysterically.

“Hey, hey, shh…I’ve got you. It’s alright. I won’t use them unless I need to, okay?” The familiar voice is gentle and warm in a way that he very distantly knows is a lie, but is too exhausted to give much weight to.

Lies are something that he doesn’t currently have the luxury of being able to be concerned about.

The agony and overwhelming relief are too much; Tommy can’t resist the siren song of unconsciousness.

======

When he wakes up again, Tommy silently begs anyone and anything that might be listening that it was just a nightmare. That Dream hasn’t actually done it, that there’s not a noose around his neck woven from a project to protect them both.

He turns his head to see Dream there again.

Or maybe he never left; time doesn’t feel real. Nothing feels real, not as his mentor reaches and cards a hand through his hair.

The relief it gives him buzzes in the back of his head so much more strongly than it should.

Still, Tommy croaks out, “It wasn’t real, right? You didn’t…you wouldn’t.”

If it's not there, then everything is fine. It won't matter if it had been a nightmare or a choice Dream walked back; he’s willing to never, ever look for the truth.

He’ll cut his ties with Tubbo. He’ll walk away, become an admin, and shut the doors of the server on the outside world.

If he doesn’t hold on to that fraying, fading thread of hope, he thinks he might have a breakdown.

Tears pool in his eyes as he begs, “Tell me everything is fine. Please.”

Dream makes a shushing noise and pulls him into a hug. It feels too restrictive and yet not enough, like some yawning pit has opened up inside of him that demands he do whatever it takes to make Dream happy.

“Everything is fine. Or it will be, once we’ve taken care of everyone else,” his mentor soothes.

A muffled sob escapes as Tommy has to face cruel reality; Dream has ripped away his ability to go against him.

Why why why why WHY? We’ve given our loyalty and our trust and–! Why wasn’t it ENOUGH? Why can’t he let us have this?!

They know why.

It feels like a spectral monkey’s paw has curled, like the universe is mocking him for wanting a person who wouldn’t discard him.

He had twisted Dream into relying on him above all others for comfort and companionship. Careful little chips and cracks, just enough to where he could be reassured his mentor turned to him instead of George, instead of Sapnap.

After all, the more secure Tommy was that Dream needed him like he needed air, the more secure Tommy had been that Dream would never abandon him.

Now he’s got what he so desperately wanted, what he’s worked so hard to get. Dream won’t accept anyone else in their lives, no matter what Tommy himself wants.

It’s impossible not to grieve for his life of less than a week ago, before Eret and Connor were murdered and everything started going to shit.

Before he can stop himself, Tommy asks, “Why couldn’t you just trust me?”

Dream is quiet for a few moments as he keeps pushing a hand through Tommy’s hair. Finally, he answers, “...I couldn’t risk losing you. I can’t keep you safe if you’re somewhere I can’t reach. You’re everything to me.”

“...And taking away my free will– that’s just an acceptable sacrifice, then.” Tommy can’t control the bitterness in his tone, nor the anger that surges up.

But fiery rage isn’t useful right now.

He needs to be calm, he needs to figure out how to work around this.

If Dream is going to choose to be an enemy, it– it hurts, it might be the most painful thing Tommy has ever been through.

But he’s not a stupid kid; he’s Tommy fucking Innit, and like hell is he going to just roll over and accept this.

They never tested this specific enchantment, true, but he’s built this code from the ground up alongside Dream. If anyone can figure out how to circumvent it, it’s Tommy and his admin half.

Dream huffs a little. “Only because you’re being stubborn. Tubbo doesn’t matter. Even if we let him live, he’d be used against you. I can’t let you get hurt–”

“But it’s fine if you hurt me.” The frost in Tommy’s voice obviously startles Dream, but he sighs after a moment. “I don’t want to. But if it keeps you alive…? Yeah. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you where you belong.”

Anger flares again, hot enough to melt the frost Tommy has coated it in. “By your side, right? Like a good dog.”

The word makes Dream jerk backwards, clearly appalled. “No, not– you’re not a dog. I’d never think of you like that–”

Tommy scoffs, arms folding around himself. It doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s falling apart from the inside out. “Sure does feel like you put a leash on me.”

He watches as Dream’s distress grows.

In a low voice he asks, “What exactly do you think will happen, after you’ve gotten your way and killed everyone else? Even if I got past the fact that you killed my best friend, you’ve shown you’ll do anything if it makes you feel better. How could I ever trust you again?”

It’s satisfying to see the way that panic creeps into his mentor’s eyes. “You’ll understand. In time, you’ll– you’ll see. It’ll be– this is for the best."

Tommy watches him for a long moment, and then scoffs again, this time in disbelief. He gets out of his bed, but Dream grabs his wrist. "Wait, where are you–"

He yanks his arm away, glaring at his mentor. "I need breathing room. Or am I not even allowed to go outside? Do I get a literal leash too, so I have to obediently wait for you to give me walkies?" His lip curls as he asks the question, voice layered with his indignation, disgust, and a challenge.

Dream looks horrified, saying, "No, I wouldn't– I would never– you're not trapped, you're not a dog–"

Rage blooms like an inferno in Tommy’s chest. "Funny, it sure feels like you decided a dog was better than a person. I went to my room to let you calm the fuck down for a few hours, and I wake up to find you enchanted me! The code is barely functional and we both know it. You decided that possibly killing me was a better choice than talking." Doubt creeps into Dream’s eyes.

"...So you were just…you weren't…" his mentor sounds a little lost, unsure of himself.

"You did this for nothing. I wasn’t going anywhere." The word makes Dream’s gaze snap back to Tommy’s face. "What do you mean wasn't? What do you–"

Tommy watches his distress grow for a long moment before answering. "Let me put it this way; you've started down a very fucking dangerous path. You have two choices. You can show an ounce of trust in me. You'll get rid of this noose and let my friend go, in which case I will deign to become an admin with you. In time, I might even be able to accept you again…"

He takes a step closer and leans down, expression and voice icing over and turning blatantly threatening. He maintains eye contact as he warns, "Or you can stay on this stupid, treacherous road. You can kill Tubbo in a jealous, petty, misguided attempt to keep me all to yourself. You'll lose all hope of ever gaining my faith and friendship again, because you'll have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that you care more about yourself than you do about me. You will gain an enemy, one who will use every single tool you willingly handed him to dismantle you, piece by piece, until you are less than nothing."

The way Dream’s face pales is satisfying. Tommy takes a step back, and tells him, "I'm going on a walk. You have until I get back to decide just how far you're willing to take this. Choose wisely."

Leaving Dream fumbling for some sort of reply, Tommy turns on his heel and makes his way out of their base.

Chapter Text

It only takes a few hours for things to start going from bad to worse.

The last thing Tommy knew, he had been taking a familiar path through the nether. The piglins had clearly been worried when he didn’t stop to talk, but Tommy wouldn’t have been good company anyway.

Everything had been– okay, well, fine would be a drastic overstatement. But not any worse than they had been when he left.

And then he was on the ground, barely able to breathe through the pain that blazed through him. Time had fallen away at some point, and now all that exists is the sheer, overwhelming agony.

Then, blessedly, it stops. A familiar voice and a soothing hand in his hair make it vanish like it was never there.

He’s exhausted enough to sink into darkness again, even as the voice rises in pitch, like it’s afraid.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s back in his bed. It feels like he’s been hit head-on by a ravager.

Deja vu makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up when he turns to see Dream sitting next to his bed, hand still gently carding through his hair.

His mentor asks, distressed, “What happened? You walked out, and three hours later I had endermen dragging me into the nether. You were collapsed on the ground, sobbing. As soon as I got to you, you just– passed out.”

Numbly, Tommy asks, “...Was it before or after you messed with my hair?” “What– after, but I don’t–”

He covers his face with both hands. A bitter laugh creeps up from someplace dark in his chest. It’s nearly hysterical, which does nothing to make Dream any less concerned.

Once he finally calms down enough to speak, Tommy drops his hands to look at Dream.

His mentor flinches at whatever his expression is, confused.

Tommy isn’t. Neither is Innit. They know exactly what happened.

“A trident,” he says in a low voice, “returns to its owner. That’s what loyalty does; it brings your weapon back to you. I must have been away too long. It decided I was disobedient.”

The word drips with contempt and venom, but he sees the way Dream grows still, recognition and something else lighting up in his eyes.

Even without asking, he knows what path Dream has chosen.

“You selfish hypocrite,” he snarls, teeth bared as pain– emotional this time rather than physical– floods his chest. “What happened to ‘I’ll never hurt you?’ What happened to being different? What happened to the person I trusted– when did you change?!”

The last words are shouted at the same time that Tommy shoves Dream’s hand away. Wide-eyed, his mentor– no.

His former mentor looks wounded, which is fucking rich. “Tommy, don’t s–” Tommy snaps, “Be fucking careful with your wording; you don’t want to break me. You jammed loyalty in my code, not unbreaking.”

It makes Dream flinch again, but he says, “...I can’t lose you.”

“Lose me? Lose me?!” Another hysterical laugh bubbles up, and both Tommy and his admin side seethe with resentment. He accuses, “You don’t understand me at all, do you?”

And that fact is excruciating, worse than a sword plunged through his chest.

Dream has spent months with him, learning how he thinks, teaching him. Meals, falling asleep, countless hours spent working on code– so much of their time has been spent together.

Tommy had reveled in it. Every second had made smug, satisfied pride settle into his bones.

He had been chosen. Someone who had a real choice had decided he was the most important person in their lives.

From his greatest fears, to how to swing an axe like him, to how his nose crinkles when he laughs; Tommy had been the only one who saw the full breadth of what the server admin was capable of.

He had been the only one who understood exactly how Dream’s mind works.

Or he thought he understood. At some point, Tommy miscalculated. He pushed too far at the wrong time, and Dream reacted in a way he didn’t expect.

And now Dream thinks– he believes that Tommy is better off with this cruel, painful leash around his throat than allowed to make his own choices.

…Does he even care what he’s done? Does it matter to him that he’s crushed Tommy’s heart, made him question every choice and action he’s made thus far?

Does he care that this is so much worse of a betrayal than being stabbed in the back? Does he understand that he has turned on Tommy in the worst possible way?

His once-mentor tries, “I– I do, but I just–” Tommy interrupts, “But it’s more important that you feel better, right? Never mind you fucking enchanted me, never mind it’s agonizing when it goes off. Never mind that I gave you an out, I gave you a chance! I hope you’re fucking happy with yourself. Liar. Monster. Traitor.”

A traitor is the worst possible thing one can be, in Tommy’s eyes. The way that one treats their allies and loved ones tells you so much about a person.

If you treat those people well, you are worth more than could be measured in material goods. If you treat them poorly, then you are the scum of the earth and worth less than nothing.

Better to be happy and loved as a beggar than miserable and alone as a king.

Tommy continues, hissing at him, “They were right, all of them! I defended you, I stood against the rest of the server and said that, no, they just didn’t understand you. I looked my best friend in the face and told him that you were different, that you cared. I told him that I was happy! I kept every secret you told me, even when he pushed back! He was fucking right, and I never should have trusted you.”

It doesn’t matter that Tommy had been more than happy to follow along with what Dream wanted. Even when he was going behind his once-mentor’s back, letting him believe that Tommy was obediently following his stupid, stupid rules was important.

And look where that got him.

Something sparks in Dream’s eyes, desperate and angry. “And they won’t matter. None of them will, because I’ll get rid of them. Then it’ll just be you and me, in para–”

Tommy interrupts again. “Paradise won’t ever exist. I’ll never trust you, I’ll never forgive you, and I’ll never stand next to you. Sure, you might literally have me there. But not in the way you want. Even if you force me to accept being an admin, I’ll spend every second hating you. You’ll have a ghost. A ghost of what should have been, what you killed.”

We won’t forget. We won’t forgive. We won’t back down.

They’ve spent their entire life as a rabbit. A few months learning to be a dog hasn’t suddenly erased that fact.

He just has to knock Dream off balance enough to find a way to save Tubbo. That’s all he cares about; he has to get Tubbo out.

He doesn’t know if he can live with himself if he fails in doing that.

======

Less than two hours later, Dream brings him to a small clearing.

The first thing Tommy does when the teleportation command completes is yank his arm out of Dream’s grip.

He has a terrible feeling about this.

“...What are we here for,” Tommy asks, when Dream doesn’t explain.

Dream frowns at him, like he hasn’t all but twisted a dagger into Tommy’s heart. “When Tubbo gets here, kill him.”

The order activates the enchantment and rips a scream of pain from him, but he’s barely able to feel it around the way he’s panicking.

No no no, not like this–

When he can focus again, he desperately grabs onto Dream’s sleeves. It’s not just the pain that makes it hard to stand up; Tommy’s panic is rapidly mounting.

“You can’t. Dream, why– why–”

Another sob wrenches itself free, even as his mind frantically spins to try and figure out some escape.

Dream pulls him into a hug, hand carding gently through his hair. The relief of it feels like a betrayal in its own right; his body weaponized against him.

“You’ll understand, eventually. This is for the best,” his once-mentor reassures him.

“Please,” Tommy whispers brokenly into his shoulder, praying for a miracle he logically knows won’t be granted.

Dream sighs softly. “It’ll be over soon. Then nobody can hurt you again.”

A half-hysterical laugh is forced out by the lie.

It fades into yet another sob. Out of every way he ever feared Dream might betray him, this…this wasn’t one of them.

He was meant to be better. He was meant to be different.

So why does this feel worse than every time Techno and Phil left or never showed up at all? Why is it orders of magnitude more agonizing than every time Wilbur ever cut him down or gave a backhanded compliment?

A part of him knows why.

Despair gives way to bubbling fury. How dare Dream try to soothe him, when he’s the one who’s going to make him kill Tubbo? How dare he have the fucking audacity to try and comfort him from the pain he’s knowingly going to inflict?

Monster, Innit hisses, venomous and bitter.

“And you’ll regret this,” Tommy vows. “Traitor.”

Like he’s dealing with a cat who’s decided to knock over a bottle of water instead of a genuine threat to his lives and sanity, Dream sighs again. “...You’ll realize I’m right. It might take some time, but…”

He trails off, even as Tommy seethes with rage.

We’re not a threat in his eyes. He’s sure he understands what we can do and he’s confident he can handle us.

Dream pulls back and smiles placatingly at him. “You’ll see. You’re going to be a god, Tommy. What’s Tubbo, in the face of that?”

“More than you,” Tommy tells him, because he knows exactly how to twist the knife.

Gratifyingly, Dream visibly pales.

“Even dead,” Tommy adds, lip curling into a sneer, “he’ll be worth more than you will ever be.”

Pain flashes in Dream’s eyes as he takes a step back. He looks away and puts his mask on. “...He’s almost here.”

Tommy’s heart drops down to bedrock. No. No no no, it’s too soon, he hasn’t figured out how to work around this yet–!

But Tubbo breaks through the trees regardless. He lights up when he sees Tommy and runs up to him. A familiar, battered red device is held in his hand. “Bossman! I have your com.”

Tommy leans forward and wraps him in a hug. He can feel himself shaking and tears start overflowing.

Tubbos jolts a little, but returns the hug. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t think about– that you might be upset over– over everything. I told them I quit. I’m leaving the coun–”

His words are cut off by Tommy’s sword piercing through his chest and out the other side at a deadly angle.

“--Try?”

The latter half of the word gets exhaled like a question. Tubbo sags heavily in Tommy’s arms, expression shocked and confused.

Tommy clings to him, this fading trace of his best friend, his sobs nearly hysterical. “I’m– I didn’t– you were right, I shouldn’t have– I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry–!”

There’s a wet wheeze of an exhale.

A chime rings out.

With horrible, terrible clarity, Tommy understands that Tubbo is gone now.

They will never tease each other about being clingy again. Tommy will never get to show him all the badass moves he can pull off now. Tubbo will never see the beautiful paradise that Tommy had wanted to make so he could be safe– so they could be safe.

They will never sit at their bench and watch the sunset again.

His heart and Innit wail in unified grief. You were mine, they both sob, you were mine and now you’re gone. You should have been safe! This is wrong, this is WRONG.

A hand settles on his shoulder, and Innit stops its howls for just a moment.

Then rage floods through both of them. Dream was his and Dream was home and now, Dream has killed all the love that he so carefully nurtured.

Months of joy and happiness have turned to ash in Tommy’s mouth in less than a day.

Worst of all is that he’s forced Tommy, no matter how unwillingly, to be the one who killed the only person who has stayed by his side for a lifetime.

Tubbo had been his true home, steadfast and real. It was nothing like the dazzling forgery that Tommy was led astray by.

And now, that precious loyalty lies still and sightless in his arms.

In the end, the moonlight that Dream had draped around him was nothing more than a fucking lie; a pretty noose that he didn’t recognize for what it was until it was too late.

Everything is fucking gone; he is free-falling in an abyss of hatred.

“You’ve gotten what you wanted,” Tommy tells Dream before he can consider giving an order. He laughs bitterly as his heart shatters like glass. “Be prepared for the consequences.”

He shoves Dream’s hand away and rises, cradling Tubbo against him. A numb sort of emptiness has taken root in the hollow graveyard that is his chest.

“Tommy, you can–” “I'm going to bury my best friend,” Tommy interrupts, still staring at the remains of the person who he should have never strayed away from.

In so many ways, this is partly Tommy’s fault for ever being so greedy as to want more than what he already had.

He worked so hard to twist Dream so he would never, ever consider throwing him aside.

Well, mission accomplished. His once-mentor is so incapable of living without him that the tiniest hint of it has driven him to– to this.

Ultimately, though, the blame can only truly be laid at Dream’s feet.

Even if Tommy had bent him into a more suitable shape, it was still Dream who decided this was the best course of action.

He's going to learn just how badly he fucked up.

Tommy repeats, “I’m going to bury my best friend. If you try to stop me…” He trails off as he finally looks up.

Whatever his expression is makes Dream flinch.

Tommy smiles and knows it is a terrible thing, sharp and cruel and joyless. “You’ve given me countless ways to hurt you. I will use them.”

He doesn’t say that he’s going to use them anyway. Let Dream think he can escape, only for Tommy to turn and use all the secrets he's learned and every shard of his own broken heart to fucking ruin his once-mentor.

It’s almost funny how he can see the way that Dream doubts himself for just a moment before he shakes it off. “You wouldn’t,“ he says, like if he says it confidently enough it would make it true. Letting his voice frost over, Tommy asks, “And why is that?”

Another split second of doubt that he once again shakes off precedes the answer. “You care about me. You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Tommy can’t help but laugh again, half hysterical at how fucking delusional that is. Mockingly, he says, “Like you wouldn’t hurt me?”

He doesn’t give his once-mentor a chance to answer before he shoves past him. Tubbo is cradled in his arms with the utmost care. “You’re the one who set this fire; you don’t get to bitch when the smoke hurts your lungs.”

Dream doesn’t try to follow him. Somehow, that isn’t a comfort– not when Tommy knows he’s watching in another way.

That’s not going to change; if anything, Tommy will need to act on the assumption that he is always being watched. No action can be assumed to pass by unseen, no matter how small.

Even if it isn’t seen immediately, all it would take is Dream looking backwards to catch on.

Except Tommy knows how to hide from his once-mentor. He knows because he’s made a game of it, a game that he’s already mastered the art of.

He’s had the help of his admin-self, the biggest asset that Dream doesn’t have. He’s never had to deny that part of him so strongly that it split, so he doesn’t have what might as well be a second person always there to point out things he’s missed and to strategize with.

The rhythm of digging fades into the background as he reaches out to Innit. It’s easy to imagine their meeting space the way he always does; a red brick fireplace, two chairs, a table, and what had once been a nearly perfect mirrored image of himself.

Innit’s appearance has subtly shifted over the last few months. Its pupils are slitted now, its teeth are sharp, and its hands are tipped with darkened claws.

“We can’t forgive this,” Tommy tells his admin-self. “I know,” Innit says, a paradoxically cold fire in its eyes.

“He’s betrayed us. He’s killed everything that mattered,” Tommy continues.

“I know,” Innit repeats, “and he doesn’t understand that.” “He will,” Tommy says, laughing softly despite there being no humor in their situation. His voice is made of ice and shattered joy as he seethes, “Oh, he’ll learn. He’ll regret.”

They stare at each other as Tommy's body continues to dig.

“...The best way to hurt him is through us,” the other part of him points out. Tommy smiles. “I know,” he echoes. He adds, “There’s nothing left for us anyway. Let him face the fears that made him try to leash us.”

“Let him remember that to cross us is to suffer,” his admin-self agrees.

It reaches across the table, offering its hand. “Let him realize that he choked the gardens of paradise with his own two, stupid hands. Let him look around at the ruins of what should have been heaven and will soon be nothing but a bleak cage. Let him see that we do not forgive, we do not forget, and he has made an enemy of who he claims matters most to him.”

Their smiles are as sharp as blades as a pact is sworn.

The sword, still bloody and damning in his inventory, was driven into his best and only friend's heart by Tommy.

But…it was Dream who is the ultimate cause.

In much the same way, it might be Tommy digging this grave, but it was Dream who made it need to exist at all. He’s the one who murdered all the happiness in Tommy's world.

So this grave in an unassuming forest isn’t just for Tubbo.

It’s his own grave, too.

Dream has killed him in all but the literal sense. Tommy is just going to make him realize that fact in the most agonizing way he possibly can.

Traitor-danger-enemy, the admin side of himself spits bitterly.

Tommy agrees; whatever Dream had once been, he is now the person who has earned his eternal hatred.

The teen and his admin-self will use every lesson and trick and petty underhanded method they can come up with to carve regret into the very code of their once-mentor (once-friend, once-family, once-home) until he knows a fraction of the pain he has inflicted.

Tommy and his admin half will finish the job Dream has started by clawing out their last life to throw at his feet.

Their death is a small price to pay if it means denying Dream what he most wants.

Chapter Text

Tommy wonders what Dream expected to happen.

Did he really believe this cataclysmic betrayal would ever be tolerated? Did he really think Tommy could be so easily leashed?

He isn't a fucking dog. He would rip the throat out of anyone who tried to tame him, metaphorically or otherwise.

Speaking of metaphorical nooses. Tommy and Innit stay secluded in their room to pull at the threads of the one kept tight around their throat.

They know the building blocks of it so well by now. But at the same time, whatever Dream hastily cobbled together so that loyalty could be used is very much not known.

Even if he can’t alter his own code, the better grasp they have on it, the better Tommy can circumvent it. The better he can do that, the better he can orchestrate his bloody swan song of revenge.

Innit murmurs, Look at the section that goes over what conditions make the enchantment activate–

Tommy scrolls the screen up a little to read the context of what his admin side has pointed out.

Though it takes him a moment to understand, he almost laughs at the bitter, cruel irony of it.

Keeping potion effects active constantly had posed several thorny issues. The biggest one is that magic is inherently abnormal, and thus taxes the body.

It’s a barely noticeable side effect of using a few too many potions at a short timespan. You feel a bit more tired, a bit more worn down for the next few days. As long as you rest afterwards, you’ll be fine.

But in huge amounts, the strain compounds until it can become dangerous. If you keep pushing, then, well…

There was a reason why, after rescuing Tommy from that fucking cage, Dream had been terrified to do anything more than erase the actual effects.

That reason had been demonstrated countless times over by the tests they were running.

Magic, it turns out, can be extremely finicky. Potions moreso than enchantments, due to the temporary nature and stronger effects, but neither are something that the body can handle in perpetuity without a lot of delicate code work.

The deaths that the test pigs faced weren’t pretty. Several times, Tommy had had to re-convince Dream to keep the project going.

That fact feels like another bitter layer to this monkey’s paw nightmare that Tommy is trapped in.

Enchantments, they had found, were much more stable than potions. Less effective, but less likely to turn lethal.

…But this section of the code that’s been grafted onto Tommy’s soul? It’s broken. It’s– it’s got so many errors that, frankly, Tommy and Innit are both surprised they’re alive at all.

No fucking wonder it feels like his entire body lights up with pure agony every time the enchantment goes off.

It’s not just a mangled version of the loyalty enchantment that’s been hastily cobbled together– it’s got several alterations that are giving Dream the effect that he wants.

The enchantment activates when certain conditions are met. The framework for that is taken from, of all things, frost walker. If x then y; if you’re walking across water, then it turns to ice.

Of potentially viable enchantments to use as a base, it had been one of the easiest to use to see if the actual enchantment was functioning properly.

Once they realized that potions were much more taxing on the body than enchantments, they had switched over. The idea had been to possibly go back once they understood how to make enchantments work safely.

Not that it’ll happen now, of course.

This mangled version of loyalty doesn’t only activate for specific things. It stays there, constantly running a check in the background. Every moment, it’s asking if there’s an order being disobeyed.

Every order will add to the magical strain on Tommy’s body. Every order will feel more and more painful.

Eventually, it will kill him.

If Tommy had any interest in living, he could tell Dream about that. He could warn him that his worst fears will be realized unless he gets rid of this noose.

But, well. Tommy isn’t interested in living.

Why would he be? There’s nothing left he cares about but mobs.

And the mobs will ultimately take Dream’s side. They can’t not; they are a part of his once-mentor, just as irrevocably so as his arms or the server.

He doesn’t fault them for it. While he feels some sorrow for their inevitable death,Dream can’t be allowed to get what he wants. All he cares about is Tommy, and thus, Tommy has to remove himself from the equation.

Thanks to the enchantment, living without Dream is impossible. It will kill Tommy in the most agonizing way possible.

So, Tommy has to die first. Dream won’t last long afterwards anyway.

The morbidly fascinating thing about the enchantment, aside from how it really should have just killed them, is how the code is mangled in such a way that it’s created a loophole.

The query on if Tommy is disobeying an order or not is phrased in such a way that, now that Innit has pointed it out…? Tommy is certain that they can influence it.

They can argue with the enchantment.

This is something they’ll need to test, of course. It’ll be…fuck, he doesn’t enjoy the idea of how painful it’ll be, either way.

It doesn’t help that he can’t just lock the door and shun Dream’s company entirely. The side effect of using loyalty is that Tommy is forced to ‘return’ to him. The consequences of not doing so…

Whatever. It won’t matter for long.

He can handle a little pain, especially when it’ll hurt Dream so much more than it will Tommy.

======

Every minute that Tommy spends isolating himself, he knows Dream must be beside himself with distress.

His once-mentor keeps pacing around outside Tommy’s door. There’s no need to use the mod-cams to be aware of that; he can hear the footfalls against the blackstone bricks more than well enough.

Dream thinks he can handle Tommy’s response to his betrayal?

Fuck that. Tommy knows his biggest secrets, his deepest fears, and has spent months making a game out of lying to his face.

The easiest way to underscore Tommy’s hatred is simple; avoid being around Dream as much as possible.

No meals with banter between bites of food, no quiet reassurance of company as they do their own thing, and certainly no sleeping curled up together.

His once-mentor is already barely hanging on to sanity by the tips of his fingers. Tommy is effectively stomping on his hands just by pulling away so much.

Tommy’s refusal to spend more than the absolute bare minimum of time with him is rapidly strangling the light in Dream’s eyes.

It doesn't help that Tommy has taken to emerging to reset the timer only when Dream is fitfully trying to get a few moments' rest.

The lessons on how to move soundlessly have been useful. Dream never has any idea that Tommy was there.

Prime, he’s still so fucking stupid. Tommy has been watching him through the mod cams. Because of that, he knows that his once-mentor is miserably failing to use the admin tools he has.

Dream’s ideals of fairness above all else have sunk in so deep that he doesn’t seem to even consider using the power at his fingertips.

Thus, his mentor is woefully ignorant of the way Tommy has been carefully orchestrating the rest of the server in a dance.

It was easy to figure out how to block all of their coms from reaching Dream. Making them decide to hunt Tommy and his once-mentor was even easier.

All it had taken was a few words to the person who was most likely to stop it.

Sapnap had been Dream’s friend, after all. He had been so precious to the admin that Dream’s worst nightmare had been Sapnap leaving.

But…Sapnap had also been Tubbo’s friend. They had found a strange kinship, a melancholy solidarity in each other's company.

It was almost painfully easy to spark that into the fires of vengeance.

Sapnap: Why? What did he DO??

Sapnap: You were both joking just two weeks ago! What CHANGED????

TommyInnit: he cared

TommyInnit: that was dangerous

TommyInnit: I did what had to be done

And then Tommy blocked him.

If Tommy had kept speaking, he could have carefully lured the blaze hybrid towards some version of the truth.

But then the rest of the server might do something stupid like try to save him.

Fuck that; Tommy has no intention of living through this. If they think he’s anything but a monstrous beast gone mad, then they might be inclined to grant him mercy.

No, no; it’s better to draft his victory speech to be delivered after there’s no hope of Tommy having to deal with the fallout.

He’ll only get one shot at this, after all.

While Dream has been pacing and worrying, Tommy has been busy carving out his path to victory.

There’s an enderman who pops up from time to time. From what Tommy can tell, they’re the same one who helped Dream save him.

Well, that work is going to go to waste.

The mob has been a useful ally; ferrying messages, bits of cloth, and anything else that could be used to lead the rest of the server right to this remote base. It’s been the closest thing to a physical home Tommy has ever had.

Whatever fondness he once had for it died with Tubbo.

And, of course, Tommy has quietly disabled the dozens of rings of silent alarms that Dream installed. Why bother with all the work, if Dream could realize what’s happening and put a stop to it?

Right now, the admin is too busy panicking over Tommy’s wellbeing to remember that anyone else exists. He’s coming face to face with the ugly reality that Tommy’s wrath is far, far worse of a thing than he bargained for.

It’s not hard to keep Dream’s focus on him. A few too many hours shut in his room, refusing meals, or the odd instance here or there of pushing too far against the limits of what the mangled enchantment deems an acceptable amount of time away from his once-mentor– any of those will make Dream beside himself with worthless concern.

Out of everyone on the server, he’s the easiest to make dance in the way that Tommy wants him to.

Wilbur called L’manburg his unfinished symphony. Well, Tommy will lead the entire server in a glorious ballet of ruination.

Dream thought it was over now that Tubbo is dead? No. No it isn’t. Things have only just begun, and this time Tommy isn’t holding back.

He and Innit will dig their claws and teeth into the person who had once been half of their entire world. Now he’s just…

Traitor-danger-enemy, his admin-self supplies, the ideas tasting like ash and spite.

Yeah. Now he’s just those; a betrayer, a delusional fool, and someone who had made the extremely fucking ill-advised choice to cross Tommy.

Maybe it’s his own fault for pushing and twisting and chipping away at Dream for these past few months. Or maybe Dream is just capable of unspeakable cruelty through what he thinks is kindness.

But that’s fine. Tommy has hidden the extent of his skill from everyone– including and especially Dream.

The devastatingly clever mind that his once-mentor admired and praised will be put to excellent use to crush all hope and joy from Dream’s life.

Because all these months, Tommy had eagerly listened and learned from Dream. His once-mentor taught him every skill and tool he knew, and his praise had been everything Tommy ever wanted.

So Tommy kept learning, even past what Dream thought to teach him. The better he was, after all, the better he could support his once-mentor.

All that skill, honed to a razor-fine point, has shaped Tommy into a force to be reckoned with.

And by god will Dream come to his reckoning.

Chapter Text

Dream keeps begging for Tommy’s understanding while also insisting he did nothing wrong.

There's no doubt in his mind that Tommy will see the light eventually, and he will realize they’re better off without Tubbo.

It will be just the two of them. Alone, forever, in the paradise they had painstakingly crafted with the blood, sweat, and lives of the entire server.

To put it bluntly, Tommy would rather die.

Dream destroyed any right he had to hope for that sort of sanctuary when he ripped open Tommy’s soul and put a barely functional prototype in there to use as a leash.

The way Dream is falling over himself to offer petty, worthless little olive branches is…well, mostly just pissing Tommy and Innit off even more.

He can’t be won back at all, let alone with rare items or empty promises that they can finally be happy.

Whatever idyllic delusion his once-mentor is desperately clinging to is going to be destroyed when Tommy completes his revenge.

Dream’s heart will collapse inwards into a black hole when his worst nightmares are brought to life. It’ll be a cruel mirror of Tommy’s own void; an ironic echo that the very thing that Dream was trying to stop will happen anyway.

Why couldn’t he just let Tubbo go?

Even if Tommy would have grieved it, he would have kept to his word. He would have chained himself at his once-mentor’s side, just like he wanted. He would have carved out some semblance of peace in the empty server.

But, no; Dream couldn’t see past his own stupid jealousy. He couldn’t handle the slightest hint that Tommy cared about anyone else.

Tommy can hear footsteps pause just outside his door again. Whatever new token that Dream has to offer will be rejected, just like everything else.

The knock his once-mentor gives is hesitant. “Tommy? I– I cooked. I thought we could eat together.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response.

Dream adds, “Please? I’m worried about you. It’s been days since you’ve eaten anything.”

Golden carrots are plenty for him. There’s no enjoyment of food any more; there’s no contented hum in his bones that he’s sharing a meal with someone he cares about.

It had made him so fucking proud that Dream would cook for him. Even the worst ones were worth choking down every awful bite, because it was something made just for the two of them.

Bitter longing feels like bile in the back of his throat. No matter how useless the thought is, he would give so much to be able to go back to that point in time.

When Tommy still doesn’t answer, his once-mentor sounds desperate. “If I need to, I– I’ll use the enchantment.”

The threat twists something in Tommy’s chest.

If you give in, he’ll know he can use that against us. And if he doesn’t, Dream will do it anyway. There’s no way to win here; all they can hope for is to mitigate the loss as best as they can.

He rises from his desk, and yanks the door open. His once-mentor seems startled, but some tiny spark of hope shines in his eyes.

Tommy snuffs it out by refusing to acknowledge that he’s there. He doesn’t even look at him, instead moving past him and down the hall.

The food looks nice. But the fact that it’s being used as a weapon against him means that it makes Tommy feel vaguely ill.

There’s no point in dwelling on that, though. He sits and picks up his fork and knife with grim determination.

His once-mentor sits across from him, though barely touches his own plate. He’s instead got every bit of his attention zeroed in on Tommy.

Finally, Dream tells him, “...You can’t ignore me forever.”

The statement makes Tommy give a single, bitter laugh. He doesn’t give any other indication he heard Dream, though.

Selfish asshole. Yeah. And that selfishness will be what ruins him.

When there’s no further response, Dream’s shoulders slump in defeat. Just a few days ago, it would have sent Tommy scrambling to ease his distress in whatever way he could. He would have plucked the sun from the sky and let it burn him alive just so he could offer that golden light to Dream.

He had become not just his mentor, but his friend, his family, and his home.

And then he ruined it all out of petty jealousy.

The breathtaking cruelty of that betrayal has carved itself into the very marrow of Tommy’s bones.

He's a selfish traitor who wears his concern like a second mask. The only reason he seems like he cares now is that if Tommy isn't happy, he can't pretend everything is fine.

The food tastes like ash.

A seething, churning tide of rage and hate endlessly tosses both Tommy and Innit around like little more than ragdolls.

Prime, what he wouldn’t give to kill Dream.

…Wait.

Innit perks up in his head; both of them consider the situation.

Dream is here, guard lowered, lost in his thoughts– likely trying to come up with some other worthless attempt at appeasement.

Tommy is here, with something that could easily be used as a weapon held oh so innocently in his hand.

It would be trivial to do.

What about the death alert? True, that posed a problem. But…they could remove the evidence. It wouldn’t be all that hard; they’ve already been looking at how exactly alerts work.

He can feel Innit being tempted by the idea.

While it might carry some risks, it should consider the raw satisfaction of seeing Dream die by their hand. Imagine how good it would feel to rip out one of his lives and prove that this isn’t just a little stumbling block, that Dream is facing a sheer fucking cliff of wrath and resentment.

…You’re right. The risk is worth it, Innit agrees. Tommy smiles for his admin half in a way that isn't even hinted at on his actual face.

The meal passes in chilly silence aside from the clicks of their utensils. Well– in the real world, that is.

Inside Tommy’s head, he and Innit construct the code they'll need. It will have to be done quickly and there’s almost no margin for error.

But it’s a challenge they meet with glee, because the reward is well worth the effort. Once they're satisfied with it, Tommy puts the knife and fork on the plate and rises from the table.

Tommy walks past his former mentor without so much as a glance.

Then he stops and says, "Dream."

In the same instant that the admin whips his head around hopefully, Tommy lets the plate and fork fall and stabs the knife into Dream’s throat.

Blood bubbles from the wound and Dream’s expression is…almost comical, actually. Shocked, confused, maybe even a little doubtful that this is happening.

Tommy offers the first genuine smile he's had since he woke up and realized that the loyalty enchantment had been haphazardly shoved into his code.

"Ah, sorta wish I could take a picture," he says wistfully, even as he pushes his wrist upwards to start inputting the commands. "But there's not really time for that. You have…what, thirty, forty seconds? Maybe a minute?"

Dream collapses onto the floor, crimson forming a puddle and snaking out even further through the lines in the blackstone bricks.

Tommy hums softly as his once-mentor’s mouth gapes in a futile attempt to get air. "I might want you to suffer, buuut I want to live more than that. If I let the death alert go out, they would just see a weakness to exploit. I hate you, yeah, but they can't know that." The first string is sent, so Tommy gets to work on the second.

He does, though, take just a moment to glance at Dream’s pitiful death throes. "Mm…I think I like you better like this. Can't give orders if you can't talk, yeah?"

A cruel, sharp grin spreads while he goes back to work. "Shame I can't just do that. Though…hmm. No, no– too risky. Fuck, it's tempting though. One little slice and bam! No more orders, no more having to hear you speak, none of it. Though knowing you, you'd find some way around me cutting your tongue out."

The command is ready, but now he has to wait for the message to start going out. Tommy uses the remaining time to crouch down and stare into Dream’s eyes. "I hope your respawn hurts."

Those familiar green eyes go dark.

The second that Tommy sees the death message spooling into the server's code, he sends the other part of the command.

It works exactly as intended; the death alert has been completely stopped before it ever reached anyone's com. Not a single person is any the wiser, and they won’t find out until it’s far too late to use that information against him.

Dream’s body starts to dissolve. Tommy abruptly reaches out to rip the lovingly hand sewn red ribbon from his hair before it fully fades away. It’s not secure like it should be, instead in a poor imitation of a style Tommy had done in the past.

This ribbon and the peaceful routine tied to it aren’t things Dream deserves, not any more.

He considers the pool of items left behind. As tempting as it is to simply let it all despawn, the only thing it would do is force Dream to spend a few hours making new equipment.

Tommy might need some of those materials later on and giving Dream any reason to remember their current stock of supplies is just a bad move.

With a reluctant sigh, he makes a chest and dumps the items into it. The only exception is the ribbon, which he has very different plans for.

He turns on his heel and walks to the still-lit fireplace. He yanks the lime green and red bracelet off from around his own wrist and throws them both in.

He smiles, bitter and angry, as he watches the two claims burn. Dream might be respawning now, but Tommy has no doubt he'll see this eventually.

"Are you happy with the fire you started? Does the smoke make your lungs burn? Good. It should. Yours is the face of a traitor, but mine…mine is vengeance. You are not my home, nor my person– none of that. And I’m not yours, either. You fucked up."

He knows exactly the kind of damage he’s inflicting, and he looks forward to seeing the moment Dream realizes what just happened.

He wants to see Dream’s expression twist in agony and fear.

How stupid, to hand him so many ways to hurt him and then expect him not to turn them around after this betrayal. How stupid, to think Tommy could ever be some soft-hearted thing, meek and obedient.

And how stupid of Tommy to ever believe that he would be allowed to be happy.

He's going to fall apart. Exactly; that’s the goal.

======

The respawn takes roughly what Tommy and Innit suspected it would. Equally within their expectations is Dream coming to Tommy’s room, still unsteady from the death and using the wall to support himself.

Tommy sighs and lifts his head from his mod console. "What." The demand is flat and his expression annoyed as he looks at the person who had been nearly everything to him.

His true feelings are a little different– both he and his monster are maliciously gleeful at how painfully they'll be able to twist the knife.

"Where–" Dream’s raspy voice is cut off as he coughs, but he’s got a desperate look on his face. "The– the ribbon. It's gone. Where is– where did you put it?"

Tommy turns in his chair to face him fully, taking a few moments to watch the uneasy dread on the admin’s face grow. "Where it belongs," he finally answers. Dream frowns, a hand uncertainly rising to the place it’s always been woven into his hair.

"Ah, no, you misunderstand. You're a traitor who has no right to wear my claim." Tommy very deliberately rolls up his sleeves, showing both his bare wrists. Color once again drains from Dream’s face as his eyes lock onto where there should be a braided cord and Tubbo’s bandana.

The latter had been left in that unmarked grave. Tommy had left it reverently placed under his only friend’s crossed hands; a silent apology that he won’t be able to have their bodies be buried next to each other.

And he didn’t trust that Dream wouldn’t try and destroy it, anyway.

The memory of how it felt to see Wilbur’s bare wrist twice over fuels Tommy’s words. "I threw them in the fire while you respawned. You’re not mine and I'm not y–" "No! No, no, it's– Tommy, tell me you're just–" Dream stumbles over his words, horror and dread making him take unsteady steps into the room.

Tommy laughs, bitterly amused at his misery. "If I did, it would be a lie. Go back and look if you don't believe me. It's fitting that those marks of home went up in smoke; you did turn it into a burnt out husk." Dream collapses to his knees, staring blankly at the floor as he reaches through time to see the truth for himself.

A low keen of utter heartbreak escapes when he refocuses his vision. "This is– we have to fix–"

Tommy laughs again, this time in disbelief. "The only way I'd wear your claim is if you ordered me to. You'd have an easier time yanking out my teeth one by one than getting me to ever make anything for you again."

Tommy rises, only to go into a crouch in front of the pitiful figure of his once-mentor.

The admin looks to be on the verge of tears. Satisfaction radiates from Innit.

Tommy’s head tilts slightly to the side. He says, tone quiet but sharp, "But you're going to do it anyway, aren’t you? It doesn't matter what I want, or think, or feel. If those get in the way of what you want, then you're happy to ignore them."

His once-mentor sobs, "That's not– I do care–" "Bullshit,” Tommy scoffs, “I have the ultimate proof that you will always put yourself above me."

He abruptly reaches out to grab Dream’s face with one hand. His own expression twists in disgust as he sneers, "I trusted you. I would have died for you. I was so fucking happy to be yours just as much as you were mine. I wanted to stand next to you more than anything in the world.”

Confusion and heartbreak shine in the green eyes he knows so well.

Tommy uses the grip he has to shove Dream away and then stands up so he towers over him. "Funny how life works in cycles. First it was Phil and Tech, then it was Wil, and now it's you."

Scrambling to get to feet and almost toppling over in the process, Dream protests, "I'm not like–" Tommy interrupts, "You are. When– not if, when– you find some new way to make me suffer…well. I'll have fucking called it.”

Dream tries again, “But they don’t– I care–” “They all said they cared, too, and it was just as much of a fucking lie. I should have known better,” Tommy tells him.

It’s the first time he thinks Dream is anything close to aware of how badly he’s fucked up.

In nearly any other situation he’d be savoring the way Dream’s breathing picks up in panic. Tommy is steadily destroying the ground out from under his enemy, and it’s happening so quickly.

In a way, it’s almost disappointing how easy this is. Somehow he expected more of a challenge, even despite knowing how best to hurt him.

A coward. That’s all he is, Innit says, disgusted. Yep. That just makes their work easier, though. It helps that Dream had fallen over himself to hand weapon after weapon to earn their trust. Trust he threw away when it actually mattered.

Tommy just sighs and walks around him. “Try not to break anything with your meltdown.”

It’s likely that Dream can’t even hear him any more– possibly can’t even see him, actually. He’s probably too busy trying to find a way to salvage the wreckage he’s made. Too little, too late. Ruins and graves, Dream. Ruins and graves.

Chapter Text

Dream has been increasingly manic and desperate to hold onto what little control he still has over Tommy.

The loss of both claims has driven him into a corner and he’s stopped letting Tommy pull away.

At least, physically. Emotionally, Tommy has never been more distant.

More than once, Dream has begged for Tommy to tell him it was all a fucked up joke. That the claims are perfectly safe, of course Tommy wouldn’t destroy them. And he’s had his laugh, he’s hurt Dream, but isn’t it time to stop?

Please, can’t they stop? Why can Tubbo still drive a wedge between him? Why is Tommy clinging to a ghost? Isn’t it lonely?

Doesn’t he miss being able to sleep?

Every time, Tommy chokes on the absolute agony of the enchantment demanding his obedience. When he can speak through the pain, he woodenly repeats Dream’s words exactly.

The cold twist to his expression makes sure his once-mentor knows he’s only saying that much because he has no other choice.

Yet, Dream keeps begging him for that pitiful, cold comfort.

And every time, Tommy has to obey.

But the enchantment isn’t hard to trick. It’s pretty stupid, honestly– Tommy did write a significant portion of the semi-functional parts of it.

Its stupidity would be more insulting if Tommy didn’t know it was months away from any sort of human trials.

So, he convinces it to follow the letter and not the spirit of the orders. As long as he can twist the meaning of Dream’s words, he can get away with much more than Dream realizes.

On top of that, Tommy has been able to use Dream’s reckless and selfish demands as a way to make a backup plan.

If the rest of the server fails to find and kill him– which they very likely might, because they’re even dumber than the half-baked program shoved in Tommy’s soul– then he’ll have to rely on the most painful method of death he can imagine.

He’s been chipping away at Dream’s already dwindling sanity enough that he piles on order after order. The overload of magic would be a slow, agonizing way to die. But…well.

Better that than letting his once-mentor get what he wants in the long run.

So, every concession of a battle is in preparation for Tommy to achieve his pyrrhic victory in the war.

Even if it hadn’t been Tommy’s plan to die, there’s no other outcome. Dream is in too deep to backtrack now– not that he hasn’t been trying.

The efforts are too little, too late.

Any chance of course correcting lies buried in the center of a ring of birch trees dotted with beehives. It looked like a miniature flower field, dozens of different flowers scattered on the ground within just a few paces.

It’s pretty. Tubbo would have liked it. He would have liked the bees too– maybe they could serve as Tommy’s apology.

He didn’t trust himself to speak enough to give a verbal goodbye. That still hurts, that he couldn’t force himself to give him even a token attempt at an eulogy.

It has been bad enough that he had betrayed Tubbo, no matter how unwillingly. To deny him the dignity of a proper funeral…it still makes him feel leaden with regret.

But that won’t matter soon.

Death will come for him too, one way or another. Even if he wanted to stop it, it’s too late now. Dream has long since overshot any hope of returning to his right mind.

Where did Tommy fuck things up so badly that he deserved this?

He’s the one to blame, Innit murmurs. The sorrow radiating from it feels like a second broken heart in Tommy’s chest. We were ready to discard everything for him. We would have even given up Tubbo, if he had been able to walk away.

Why wasn’t that enough? Dream would have gotten everything he wanted. No matter how useless the despair is, Tommy can’t stop himself from circling that thought. It scours him raw and bloody, the way that Tubbo looks in the nightmares that plague him.

By day, he’s haunted by Dream’s suffocating presence. By night, he’s haunted by his best friend dying over and over and over. Each time, Tubbo asks him why. Each time, Tubbo accuses him of being a traitor. Each time, Tubbo dies in Tommy’s arms, and the grief of it eats Tommy alive.

Even Dream’s presence has stopped being a remedy for nightmares. Dream demands he sleep like they used to, no matter how much Tommy hates that he’s making Dream feel better.

Tommy doesn’t get that luxury. His nightmares are all the more hellish for the long respite he had had from them.

The only thing that offers any kind of relief is to drown his thoughts out with music. He’s crammed as many songs as he could find into a playlist and sets it to play through his earbuds.

Of course, Dream’s desperation to literally keep Tommy close is only pushing him further and further away emotionally.

Case in point; Dream is currently asleep, arms around Tommy like a vise. Like if he can hold on tight enough, he can fix his horrific mistakes and everything will go back to normal.

Traitor-danger-enemy, Innit spits. He sleeps too well.

Not so long ago, Tommy would be quiet and still so that he could bask in the feeling of peace and safety Dream offered. Now, he remains in place because it’s a respite from his once-mentor’s rapid unraveling.

A flicker appears in the corner of Tommy’s vision. It's an alert that one of the alarms has been tripped. Because Tommy had redirected all of them to him and him alone, Dream remains blissfully unaware of the danger headed right towards them.

The information is strange, though. Only Purpled is there, and he’s seemingly materialized right in the heart of the base.

Did they somehow learn that the alarms exist and manage to find a way around them? If that’s the case, then why was there any warning at all?

…It doesn’t matter, not when Lady Death beckons him with open arms.

Who knows– maybe that bullshit story Wilbur liked to tell is true. Maybe she does favor their family.

Tommy doesn’t hear footsteps, but he does see someone.

That’s not Purpled; it’s like nothing Tommy has ever seen before. They have weird purple skin, horns, and a neon purple lab coat. Their eyes shine wrong in the light, too.

Whatever that thing is, it’s not alone.

Three strangers, one of them some sort of sleep paralysis demon in a fucking neon purple lab coat. The other two make his breath catch because–

That’s Dream. But it’s also not; his scars and freckles are too different, as are his clothes, his hair, and the fact that he’s got six earrings in his ears. Oh, and he has a pair of massive wings in shades of mottled grey partly hidden under a capelet.

The other one is just…him. It’s Tommy, but again– also not. Older, in very different clothes, much more heavily scarred, and with a pair of wings identical to the other-Dream’s partly disguised by his own capelet.

Innit suddenly says, They have claims on each other. Look at their earrings. In the fractions of seconds before the group spots him, Tommy sees what Innit means; the other-Tommy has a set of lapis earrings bordered by what look like tiny diamonds, and one of the six that the other-Dream has is a single diamond earring bordered by lapis.

Holy fuck. A good summary of the situation, thanks! Any other stunning observations his admin side wants to make?

And then Dream bolts upright. His eyes always glow when he's tapping into his admin skills, but now they're nearly blinding.

His once-mentor vaults over the couch, teeth bared in a way that seems more instinct than thought. He lunges at the other-Dream with his axe out, but the blow is parried.

The other-Tommy launches himself forward to slash at Dream. Even with months of learning how to fight from his once-mentor, Tommy can barely keep up with the flow of combat.

The interlopers are good, though; they fight like a well-oiled machine. Unfortunately for them, Dream is half out of his mind and running purely on a need to protect Tommy.

In other circumstances, Tommy would be at his side and demanding a price of blood for daring to intrude on their home. But, well…now, it’s just a welcome relief.

Dream’s voice almost crackles at the edges in a way that sounds wrong. "Get away from him–!"

The enchantment, unsure of what to do, asks if that counts as an order.

Yes! He wants us to get away from them! Innit’s reply is immediate.

As is the bolt of suffering that lances through Tommy. He collapses back against the couch, his vision going white from the pain.

Tears pool in his eyes and it hurts to even breathe around the agony. He whimpers, curling in on himself to stop feeling like he’s going to collapse from the inside out.

But he does get the desired result. Dream snaps his head towards Tommy, expression twisting in distress at his pain. This gives the strange intruders the moment they had needed.

In less than a blink, the other-Dream has his axe pressed firmly against Dream’s throat. "Monster,” he spits, some sort of righteous fury twisting his expression. “Don’t speak.”

Dream snarls at him, though his attention is still focused on Tommy.

The enchantment activates.

The order rips a shriek of pain out of him, but his mind is reeling.

Other-Dream can give orders. If he can do that…then the enchantment must consider him just as valid an ‘owner’ as Dream.

He can work with this.

The teen jumps in surprise when a hand touches his arm. The other-Tommy looks oddly concerned.

“You okay, big man?” The sound of Tommy’s voice coming from a complete stranger is weird in an uncanny valley way. His skin crawls a bit at it, but, well, he’ll have to get used to it. He’s gotten used to far worse, after all.

Tommy shivers and looks as meek as he can. Easier to go from a rabbit to a wolf than the other way around.

He gives a very obvious, worried look at the two Dreams. He also opens his mouth, flinches, and closes it again.

Other-Tommy’s mouth flattens into a grim line. “Dad, he’s got the fuckin’ enchantment.”

For a moment, both Tommy and Innit are too focused on the idea of Dream as their dad to register the rest of the statement.

But, well, they can think about how fucking weird that is later. There are much more pressing things to focus on.

Other-Dream looks even more angry. “I release you of all your orders.”

Tommy’s breath hitches as he feels the enchantment readily discard all of the previous commands. He laughs in disbelief and can feel himself shaking a little.

“I don’t– I don’t understand,” he says, quietly, looking up at the two versions of his former mentor.

The new one is watching him with some sort of sorrowful pity. It grates against Tommy, but it’s also useful.

And then, finally, Dream realizes what’s just happened. Someone else can hold Tommy’s leash– someone who can, will, and just has subdued Dream.

His eyes glow even brighter, nearly enough to blind Tommy. He tries to get away from the other-Dream, reaching towards Tommy. “No! He’s mine, he’s mine, don’t touch him–!”

Once again, crippling pain courses through Tommy and makes him scream. When his vision fades back into focus, the other-Tommy has moved to help restrain the thrashing, feral admin.

The bizarre creature joins in as well, helping the other two tie Dream up and shove a gag in his mouth.

Dream’s eyes are wild, but the group seems to have done a good job; despite his best attempts to free himself, the admin remains bound and unable to give orders.

It’s a beautiful sight. Tommy and Innit take a heartbeat or two to commit it to memory.

The other-Tommy dusts his hands off, and then turns his attention back to Tommy.

He makes sure to shrink back a little and avert his gaze. Meek, timid, poor little Tommy; he’s so horribly tragic. He’s too weak to possibly be a threat to anyone.

There’s a bark of laughter from Innit at that idea. The two of them would claw gods out of the sky if they needed to.

The guy holds his hands up in a display of not being a threat. “Hey, big man. Are you alright?”

No, but not for the reasons that other-Tommy might suspect.

Tommy’s shoulders hike up around his ears. His voice trembles a little. “H-how did you get here? And why does…” he trails off, very blatantly looking at other-Dream.

Then he flinches and quickly lowers his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t– I’m not trying–” as he stumbles over the words, the other-Dream’s expression turns even more pitying.

“I won’t do anything to hurt you. I release you of all your orders,” he says, and Tommy can feel the enchantment discard Dream’s previous demand.

Other-Dream makes sure to keep his hands up and his tone gentle. “My name is Day. My son, Theo, and our friend, Vio, and I all travel to other realities to help where we can. We can get rid of your enchantment. It requires coming with us, though.”

What?

The implications of what that could mean hit Tommy before they hit Dream.

We could literally walk away. Dream could watch as we go to a place he can never hope to follow. They could strike a blow even more devastating than their intended one.

If Tommy walks away, Dream will cling to the hope that he might come back. Weeks, months, maybe even years– he will wait. He’ll have hope, and that hope will consume him from the inside out.

What if he could follow? A good point. Better to be sure.

He lets hope shine in his eyes, and he looks between all of them like he can’t believe this could be real. “Can– is it safe? Could someone–”

He cuts himself off right as he looks at Dream.

Their eyes lock for just a moment. Dream’s expression is twisted in a silent, desperate plea.

Tommy quickly looks away and curls in on himself.

The other Tommy– Theo, apparently– extends a hand to him. “He won’t ever fuckin’ see you again. Even if you don’t stay, we can take you to another fuckin’ world. A safe one, without him.”

He sounds disgusted. Dream frantically struggles more, writhing and trying to speak and beg for Tommy not to take this golden opportunity.

If you wanted us to stay, you shouldn’t have betrayed us, Innit crows, delighted at Dream’s misery.

Tommy takes a step towards Theo, and then a few more. Of the three, he seems the safest. Vio is too unknown, Day is too close to Dream, but Theo…he’s got a protective streak of some sort. He’s sympathetic, strong, and most importantly, is trying his damndest to be non-threatening to Tommy.

He throws his arms around Theo, and makes his breath hitch in faux-distress. “Please,” he begs, just to twist the knife in further. “Please, help me, there’s– I don’t have anyone, I–!”

His words are cut off by Theo hugging him back. The days of poor sleep, dealing with Dream’s mania, and methodical plotting are finally catching up to Tommy. There’s no other reason why Tommy’s eyes water and he halfway collapses into the offered comfort.

He hears feathers rustling, and then the weight of wings wrapping around him. It’s been at least six years since he last had a hug like this, but he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that’s happened.

Hey, don’t get sappy. We need to focus.

The sound of something breaking makes Tommy flinch and turn to look at the source of the noise.

A plate that had been left out fell to the floor in the middle of Dream’s thrashing. He’s outright crying now, the glow in his eyes only getting brighter.

Tommy grabs Theo’s arms again. Before he can start begging, the other version of himself reassures him, “Yeah. We’ll get you out of here, big man.”

And then Tommy hears the sound of a portal opening.

A silvery-lavender rip in reality sits right between the line of coat hooks and the door to the bathroom.

The really fucking weird entity evidently known as Vio gestures to the portal. “Anything in your ender chest will remain there. We should go before he can get free.”

Tommy eagerly nods, and grabs on to Theo’s arm. The other version of himself reaches over and ruffles his hair.

It takes him by surprise, enough so that Tommy finds himself chasing after the hand.

Theo’s expression is complicated, but not so much that Tommy can’t catch at least some of his emotions. Grief, pity, protectiveness, determination. Theo has likely decided that Tommy must be protected.

Good. That’ll be useful. Who knows what sort of place will be on the other side of the portal?

The air shudders and Dream’s eyes are almost blindingly bright. He must be frantically trying anything and everything he can to be able to stop Tommy from leaving.

That they’re parting ways like this is almost comically ironic. Tommy would have died for him, plain and simple. He would have fought tooth and nail to stay at his side no matter who or what tried to rip him away.

But Dream got insecure enough to enchant him. He had done so despite everything Tommy had done to prove his sincerity and the depths of how badly he wanted to be here. That betrayal is proof enough that he deserves to rot in the bleak, miserable prison his once-mentor has made for himself.

We gave you so many chances. We warned you, we told you this wasn’t going to go your way. You reap what you sow; the shimmering wheat you so carefully tended to was set on fire by your own reckless hand. You have no one but yourself to blame for the heaps of ash left behind, Innit hisses coldly.

Now all that remains are ruins and graves, just as we promised.

Tommy makes a noise of alarm over Dream’s increased frenzy and hides behind Theo. As Dream’s wide, terrified eyes fill with tears, the older version of Tommy scoffs dismissively at the admin. “Pathetic. C’mon–s’ fuckin’ get you somewhere safe.”

Tommy nods, and without a backwards glance, he steps through the portal.

Chapter Text

How had everything gone so horribly, catastrophically wrong?

It’s a question that’s been on loop in Sapnap’s head ever since the chime announced to the server that Tommy had killed his supposed best friend.

It doesn’t make sense. The last time Sapnap had seen Tubbo, he had been going to bring Tommy his com back.

The last time he saw them together, they were shoving each other and having a mostly good-natured argument about if bees or moths were better insects.

They were happy.

So he can’t…he doesn’t understand. Why had Tommy told him that it was dangerous to care? Why did both he and Dream block him and refuse to respond to any messages?

Where did it all go wrong? Was there some– some sign, some clue, that he should have noticed?

He’s so fucking tired of being in the dark.

Maybe, once they hunt down Tommy and Dream, he can finally get some answers. It’s a long shot, but it’s not like Sapnap can just let this go.

Dream is dangerous. Tommy is likely only less so by virtue of not being an admin. Whatever Dream has seen in Tommy was enough to make Dream turn away from everyone else in favor of him.

He chose Tommy over George, who refuses to return to the server unless Dream apologizes and bans Tommy for good.

Maybe that’s for the best, right now. Sapnap doesn’t know if he could handle it if both of his closest friends became strangers.

And there’s no other way to describe it. Dream and Tommy have slowly but surely become unrecognizable over the last few months.

They changed in good ways, at first. Tommy gained confidence, was less ready to snap back at the slightest provocation, and was obviously happier. And Dream seemed to find something in his protege that he couldn’t find in anyone else.

Then, less good. Tommy grew a little meaner, while Dream got a little more distant.

Finally…after George left, Dream refused to speak to Sapnap, to even attempt to keep their friendship alive. He had been unreachable until the day that Eret and Connor had been murdered.

He had thought that the worst of it was Tommy’s iciness, the possessiveness, the way he felt entitled to authority. The air of victory he had had when Dream leaned on him– both literally and metaphorically.

There had been an unspoken taunt in his eyes over the undeniable fact that Dream trusted him so much more than he did Sapnap.

So…whatever the two of them have become– both of them need to be stopped.

It makes Sapnap’s heart heavy, but he knows that Dream won’t let Tommy be put down without a fight.

And Tommy has to pay for what he’s done.

Hell– maybe Quackity had been right. Maybe it had been Tommy who set this all up in the first place.

Karl bumps his shoulder lightly, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You doing okay?”

Sapnap looks at the rest of their group; Punz, Bad, and Skeppy. They’ve spent days following the tiny scraps of clues in the nether and overworld to lead to wherever the hell Dream and Tommy’s base is.

None of the others are looking at Karl and Sapnap. They’re too busy scanning their surroundings– which is what the blaze hybrid should be doing, too.

He’s just…so fucking tired.

There’s no glory or joy in this. Whatever happens, the most likely outcome is that Dream will die. Even if he doesn’t…Sapnap won’t be thanked. At best, Dream will hate him for putting Tommy down like the rabid dog he’s clearly become.

Yet, this is the only way he can get justice for Tubbo.

They had been friends, sort of. Or at least able to share the quiet grief of their respective friends choosing someone else instead of the two of them.

Most of the time that Tubbo and Sapnap had spent hanging out, all they would do is watch a movie or show. It was easier that way; it let them be lonely together. No need to try to find something to say, no need to keep up awkward conversation.

If they had a comment about the movie, sure, they could say it. But neither of them expected it to last for more than a few minutes.

When they did speak about their wayward friends, Tubbo had complete and utter conviction that Tommy still cared about him. No matter what else he was doing or who else he was with, Tubbo had claimed, Tommy was incapable of just walking away entirely.

It hurts to know that loyalty has been repaid with an unjust death.

“No,” Sapnap finally sighs, and Karl pulls him into a long hug.

As nice as it is, it makes Sapnap feel guilty. He can’t afford to be so distracted, not when the trail is getting harder and harder to pick up.

Karl squeezes him and reassures, “We’ll find them and get answers.”

The blaze hybrid finds himself wondering if that’s even possible.

If they can find the admin and his protege, it’s possible that the duo will never actually explain themselves. They’ve gotten good at keeping secrets.

Just as he thinks that, the sky turns black out of nowhere, and hail starts falling hard and fast.

There’s no question of the source, not to Sapnap.

But that’s secondary to the way that the hailstones are rapidly getting bigger and how it feels like they’ll be blown away by how fast the wind is blowing.

Punz gives a sharp whistle and shouts over the storm, “Over here!”

Sapnap looks in their direction and sees the unmistakable shimmer of a nether portal.

He holds on to Karl as they rush over; Bad and Skeppy are already blinking into the other dimension.

They scramble into the nether portal. Through the ripple of magic, Sapnap watches as hailstones as big as his fist start breaking blocks around them.

The source is obviously Dream; nothing else could summon such a violent storm so quickly.

What the fuck is going on? What’s made Dream react so much worse than he ever has before?

Despite himself, Sapnap is worried about him. No matter what Dream is now, or what Sapnap needs to do, a part of him will always care about the person he had considered one of his best friends.

When the portal spits them out into the nether, they find themselves in what’s clearly a manmade room. The floor is dripstone, though it’s tinted red in a way that Sapnap has never seen before.

It’s Bad who says, “Our portal must have– we linked up to theirs.”

Goosebumps rise on Sapnap’s arms. He doesn’t want to face Dream and Tommy, but at the same time…

He has to deliver justice.

So he swallows, takes his sword in hand, and steps into the haze of magic again.

The portal brings them to a room that, despite having never seen it before, Sapnaps knows beyond a shadow of a doubt belongs to Dream and Tommy.

He's immediately caught off guard by how…cozy it seems. Pictures, trinkets, little notes tacked to the wall, a mostly empty cookie jar, a plush couch with blankets bunched at one end; all it is agonizingly domestic.

This is where they’ve been– the place where the person he thought was his friend has been holed up. Months and months have gone by where Dream slowly but surely revoked his trust.

And instead, Tommy has taken it.

Tommy, the bright-eyed kid who laughed louder than anyone else. Tommy, the clever, ruthless soldier who fought hard enough that Dream was sure he would start winning.

Tommy, the person who Sapnap was replaced by.

He's snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of a portal being broken. Are they trying to escape?

Throwing caution to the wind, Sapnap rushes forward to try and get whatever clues he can before they vanish into thin air.

He’s not prepared to find Dream bound and gagged on the floor, mask nowhere in sight. His eyes are giving Sapnap a headache from how bright they are. They’re also wild and full of tears.

Dream thrashes violently. Sapnap realizes that the sound he’s hearing is a muffled scream interspersed with nearly hysterical sobs.

The blaze hybrid looks back at the rest of his group. They seem just as unsure of what’s going on as Sapnap is.

Well…he’s the least likely to be bit, probably.

He’s cautious as he approaches Dream, and pulls the gag down.

Immediately, his former friend wails, “They stole him, they stole him, I can’t– he’s not safe, I can’t protect him if he’s not here!”

Sapnap startles as he realizes Bad has stepped up next to him. The demon’s tail is anxiously twisting and untwisting around his own leg. “Who– what do you mean, stole?”

“Tommy, they stole Tommy, he shouldn’t– he knows, he knows, why would he–! After everything, I gave him everything,” Dream sobs.

The blaze hybrid only grows more unsettled by just how wrong it feels to see Dream coming apart at the seams like this.

He clears his throat, pushing past his discomfort to ask, “You gave Tommy everything?” “The server, my heart, I gave it all to him, how could he walk away?!”

The words feel oddly familiar. It takes Sapnap a few moments to remember, but…

Dream had confessed, once, that he was terrified of being abandoned. He was afraid that everyone else would leave him behind; walk away to some place he couldn’t follow.

It twists something in Sapnap’s gut. What the fuck happened? “Dream. What happened to Tommy? Where is he?”

A low keening noise and sobbing are the only answers he gets.

From behind them, Punz says, “Tommy isn’t on the server list. There’s no log of him leaving, either.”

That makes no sense, but brings another deeply distressing wail from Dream.

Sapnap yanks out his com to check for himself. Sure enough, Tommy is nowhere. But there’s nothing about him leaving the server; it’s like he vanished into thin air.

“I want to know who tied him up, and where they went,” Karl says.

And– that’s a good point. Even setting aside why, there’s no reason anyone would have done this and not stuck around. There had been the sound of a breaking portal, too, but there’s no portal in sight.

Dream hisses, “They stole Tommy!”

“But who are they,” Sapnap presses, frustrated at the way Dream isn’t actually explaining anything. It feels like he’s missing too many important pieces. Nothing makes sense, and every detail seems to just make it harder to understand anything.

“Thieves, they can’t be the same– Tommy will get away, he has to get away, he’ll come back. He won’t leave me, he can’t leave me, he promised, he swore–!”

They won’t get anywhere like this.

The sound of a portal spitting someone out makes Sapnap jump a little. He hears footsteps, and then from Karl a quiet, relieved, “Oh, Q, there you are–”

Dream’s expression twists in a way that leaves Sapnap’s blood running cold. Despite still being tied up, he seems more threatening than ever.

“You,” he hisses, an inhuman crackle to his words that sends a shudder down the blaze hybrid’s spine.

If he had seemed manic before, now he seems composed of raw, unfiltered hate. “How dare you, how dare you, you haVE NO RIGHT TO BE HERE–!”

The words rise in volume until they’re booming like thunder. “AFTER EVERYTHING YOU’VE STOLEN, YOU DARE TO SET FOOT IN MY PARADISE?!”

It’s hard to breathe around the overwhelming pressure around them. It’s hard to think with the ringing in Sapnap’s ears, too.

No. That’s not ringing.

His heart hammers in terror as he realizes it’s screaming. Not from Dream, but from mobs.

The entire server is caught up in Dream’s rage. There’s no other way to describe the way that pure, unadulterated hate rolls off of his former friend.

Whatever he had once been, this is not the same person.

Is he even a person any more? He’s overflowing with so much malice that he seems to be more emotion than person.

There’s a feeling like something inside him is being stretched in a way it shouldn't be. When it finally snaps, Sapnap finds himself in the universal hub.

He wheels around, staring at the portal back to the Dream SMP. Did he get kicked? He can’t leave everyone else behind–

But they start appearing in rapid succession. Even Quackity, who looks as white as a ghost.

Once the final person is removed, the portal shatters.

Nobody says anything for a long time, but finally, Punz says, “...I’m going to guess we aren’t going to be able to get our stuff.”

It’s a feeble attempt at a joke, though there’s no laughter.

How can there be, after what they just saw? The person Sapnap thought he knew is dead. Maybe not literally, but his spirit has been warped in ways that make him too alien to understand.

None of it makes sense. The insistence that Tommy was kidnapped– or, as Dream had put it, stolen– paired with the incoherent rambling about how Tommy wouldn’t or couldn’t leave, as well as how Tommy wasn’t on the member list…

It doesn’t make any sense.

Sapnap leans heavily on the broken portal into the Dream SMP. He scrubs his face with his hands.

What the fuck is he supposed to do? What can he do?

Everything has gone wrong, and now Sapnap is left in the wreckage with too many questions and almost no answers.

He gets a feeling that won’t change any time soon.