Chapter Text
Tommy would say that he was used to things like this. After all, his situation wasn’t a unique one. Still in foster care at age 16 because of how much of a bitch he was at times. At some point, most teens got so used to it, they started lashing out and it just got worse. After that, there was no return and your only hope was to age out. So needless to say, sitting in the passenger seat while driving to a new house was his normal.
It didn’t feel any different from last time, and he knew it wouldn’t be. His stuff was packed away in a duffle bag and his old red backpack was falling apart in the seat behind him. It didn’t even look red anymore. It was more of a rusted orange. The same shit was packed over and over. It was always the same.
His arms were crossed unintentionally showing his annoyance, although he was sure the scowl on his face was enough to show that. He did hate moving, especially when it required him to switch schools. Not that it had happened in the last few years. His caseworker sat in the driver’s seat next to him as they drove to his new foster parents. Absent-mindedly, he wondered what they'd look like this time. Probably the same as always.
He knew how this would go. They’d smile at him, say that they were looking forward to housing and helping him. They’d go inside and find out how hard it was to take care of a teenager that didn’t trust you at all and lashed out if anything even came close to hurting him. One that never saw any good in having people that already had children out of the house helping him. Then, they’d slowly get more and more fed up with him until they snapped and then he would be shipped back to the group home. Because that's when they all knew what he was. A replacement for their children who had gone off to college. Finally, everything would be fine again, and Tommy would be one day closer to emancipation. Total fucking freedom.
“So, Tommy. How are you feeling about this new adventure?” His case worker asked, faux excitement entering her voice. He was sure he’d learned her name at some point, but he’d forgotten it again.
“Fucking fantastic.” He grumbled.
“You could try to be upbeat for once.” She reminded him, always to strive for the best possible solution for each of the kids she was tasked with. How she was so upbeat, he didn't understand.
“Why would I do that when I’m just going to be back here in two weeks?” Tommy asked, picking at the thread on the collar of his shirt.
“I think you’ll be surprised. We might’ve found your fit.” She said as they pulled up to the first stoplight they’d hit in a while. They were in an actual town now. Wonderful.
Tommy wasn’t entirely sure where they were going, all he knew was that he’d probably be going to a new school once again. It had been about an hour since they left the group home after all. It had been a few years since that happened. He hated moving schools, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn’t a little grateful for the idea of a fresh start. Even if it was only temporary.
They were driving through a rather small town. He counted at three gas stations, One Mcdonald's, and the library on the main road before they turned off into a neighborhood filled with duplexes and some regular houses. They passed three different streets before they turned onto another road, driving almost all the way down before they stopped.
The car sat in front of a duplex that was completely brickwork, with no fancy paint covering the frankly nice bricks. He could see that one of the doors was red and the other he couldn’t see, but he could see a bench sitting on the outside of it.
“Alright, we’re here.” She chirped, turning off the car and opening her door.
Tommy sighed, but got out of the car, grabbing his stuff from out of the back. Backpack on his back and carrying the duffle bag, he walked up to his caseworker. She offered him a smile, and he gave a half-attempted smile back, dropping it to his usual snarky face almost instantly. She gave him a look but led him up to the door. He had to admit that this was a first. Usually, it was stuck-up assholes that insisted they could fix the problem child if the house had enough space. This… didn't seem like this was going to be one of those times.
There wasn’t much on the outside of the house. He saw a blue honda civic that was from some year long ago, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was from sometime around when he was born. The bushes seemed almost dead, but that made sense since it was October. Autumn was here and that meant it was perfect for hiding things. It was the red door on the right that his social worker was standing next to. There was a pot with dirt in it next to the door, and it looked like it might’ve had a plant in it at some point but it was just a sad brown twig thing.
As he stood next to his social worker, his back was hit with sharp pain and it made him grit his teeth. It was so easy to forget about that. He should probably take care of that once he's alone. Although, he wasn’t sure how long it would be until he had that time. He really should’ve taken care of that while he was in the shower yesterday. God, why was he such a fucking idiot?
“Hello.” A deep voice sounded.
Tommy looked towards the door, unsure of when his caseworker had even knocked, nor when it had opened. A tall guy was standing in the door frame with one hand on the door handle. Probably even taller than him which was a surprise. He seemed pretty young to be a foster parent, and if he wasn’t mistaken he’d heard a British accent on the guy. Other than that he looked average, with brown eyes, brown hair, glasses, a sweater, and hiking boots right inside the door. Other random things on the table in the small foyer the guy had included a set of keys with a small cat Keychain. This would be fun then, cats didn't tend to like him.
“Hello, Wilbur. This is Tommy.” His Caseworker said, gesturing to him.
Wilbur apparently, raised his hand in greeting. He should probably introduce himself but he didn’t feel like it. Hopefully silently communicating that he wanted to just leave already. Wilbur seemed to get that almost immediately because he just smiled awkwardly.
“Hi, Tommy. Uhm, Welcome.” The dude said, moving to let the two of them in. Yeah, he was British. That was good to know.
Tommy entered the house, and the pictures on the wall of a Family that looked nothing alike was his first impression of the house. So, this dude was a Family guy and a cat guy. Wonderful, that would totally not end horribly. The entryway led to a doorway and a staircase leading up, all of the flooring wooden. The doorway showed him a living room that felt sparse like Wilbur had just moved in. There was a couch, table, and TV. A few books spread around the room and a shelf with random trinkets on it. Some shells, a couple of jars that looked like they had ecosystems in them, and random rocks.
There just wasn't a lot. It made the place feel more relaxed because this didn't seem like it was on purpose for once. Most other houses made it like a show home and it felt uncomfortable.
Most notably, there was a record player next to the TV. A collection of records sat on a shelf on the other side of the room, at least two shelves filled with just that. He also saw music books filling the top shelf with a miniature guitar thing. He wasn't exactly sure what they were called. So this guy liked music. A lot, it seemed.
The next thing he noticed was that the house was warm. A type of warmth that he knew he would enjoy. He was fairly sure most other people kept their houses at a cooler temperature and it usually bothered him. This was alright then.
“So, this is the living room. I think I have to talk to your caseworker for a few minutes. Feel free to explore. This is a two-story duplex, so your bedroom is upstairs on the right. First door. The room next to it is the bathroom.” Wilbur said. “I’ll call you down once we’re done talking, but yeah. Got to get the legal sh- stuff sorted out.”
He nodded, gripping his duffle bag tighter. He noted that this guy had almost cursed, within the first minute or two of meeting him. That was sure to do wonders for the amount of time he'd be spending here. He waited until he heard the two others leave the room and went to go up the stairs.
He made sure to step on every single step and found that the third step from the top was creaky. Quickly, making a mental note to avoid that step, he stepped up onto the second floor. Finding the room was easy, but finding the light switch wasn’t. The room was dark, the little light in it was coming from the window. Eventually, he found it, turning the main light on.
The room was not as sparse as he was expecting. Usually, nobody wanted to spend a ton of money on a kid that would only be there for a couple of months. But a bed with red sheets in the corner, with a bed stand next to it. A dresser was at the end of the bed, and he saw a door that he presumed led to the bathroom. The window curtains were closed but were a deep red with those things that held curtains. He wasn't sure if there was a technical term for them but there probably was considering how stupid the English language is. He wasn't even sure how Wilbur could've known that he liked the color red.
The walls were nice, painted a pale yellow color that reminded him of dried sunflowers. He could see an outlet next to the bedside table which was good for charging his phone and maybe a lamp if Wilbur was one of the nice ones. He liked lamps.
Tommy finally stepped fully into the room, quietly closing the door behind him and finding a desk and chair tucked away in the corner. Presumably for homework, in which case it would probably never be used. He tended to forget about homework more often than not. His hand lingered on the door handle, his hand sliding over something very important. Was that what he thought it was?
He looked down at the door, slowly sliding the little lock to be horizontal instead of its upright position. He could hear the door lock with a quiet, Click.
Tommy let a small smile grace his face, it had been a few houses since he had a room to himself with a lock as well. The idea that he could just lock himself in here was great. He wasn't sure what Wilbur would do with that information, but for now, he left it locked. This seemed like it was going to be fine.
Tossing his duffle bag on the bed, he took his backpack off and set it on the floor. Since he wouldn't need it for a few days, as it was a Thursday. He could start unpacking but he should probably make sure that the other door did indeed lead to the bathroom. So, he walked across the room, opened the door, and looked in. Shower in the corner, toilet, and sink. Very nice. He might last a little longer than usual here.
Tommy grimaced at the sharp pain igniting in his upper back again. He should take care of that, but if Wilbur was going to call him back down any second, he should probably wait until after. He had to keep this hidden, it was the only way he was just taken up by the government and whatever the fuck they did with rare as-hell hybrids. If his secret was revealed, which it wouldn’t be, it wouldn’t be here. He decided that right now. As nice as this place seemed so far, he didn't trust this Wilbur guy one bit.
“TOMMY. C’MERE.” His caseworker shouted up.
There it was, he needed to go back down again. Tommy unlocked the door, making sure to leave the door open when he left, just in case. He went down the stairs as quickly as he dared, not wanting to hit the creaky one or seem like he was rushing. There was always that delicate balance of the first day in a new house. He didn't need to break it so soon.
Although he found that the two weren’t in the living room. He went through the other door and found them in some sort of kitchen dining room combo. One half had the table and chairs and the other had everything a kitchen would need. That made sense for a duplex and would be pretty much what a single person living alone would need.
His caseworker and Wilbur sat at the table, Wilbur with his file. His Caseworker smiled at him and got up from the table. She had probably been lying about what he was like. Oh, this was gonna be fun.
"Alright Tommy, there were just a few last things to sort out. I'll be leaving now, I'll be back in two weeks for a wellness check. No sooner, no later." She reminded him. "No funny business."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't be an asshole. We went over this in the car." He grumbled.
He swore he could almost see a small smile on Wilburs’ face when he said that. Like he found it funny.
His caseworker sighed and looked at him with a look that told him she wished to be assigned to any other kid but him. Which was fair. One couldn't handle Tommy Innes for months on end. She'd had her fair share of him considering his last house had been a new record of them losing their minds. She left quickly, leaving him and Wilbur alone in the kitchen.
"If you don't mind, I'm going to put this in my office," Wilbur said, holding up his file, and giving it a little shake. "Feel free to get a glass out of the cupboard and get some water."
Oh fuck, he'd left his water bottle upstairs hadn't he? Oops, he hadn't meant to do that. Wilbur got up and went towards the back of the house. It seemed like this duplex extended further than he'd guessed from what it looked like on the outside. He waited until Wilbur was out of sight to try and find the cups. He might as well entertain the dude's antics so he could learn more about him. Learning about new foster parents was always good.
He found the glasses in the cupboard right next to the fridge, which luckily did have filtered water, but most fridges had that by now. Some older foster parents still had old ones that didn't have filters and insisted that the tap water was fine. (Tommy was pretty sure he'd gotten sick from tap water once. He wouldn't be surprised if he had.)
Taste testing the water proved that here his best bet would be the filtered water. It tasted a bit fancier than the water in the Big City, but not enough to be that noticeable. Hopefully, it wouldn't give him a headache like that one thing of filtered water that had tasted weird. Some people had really weird filters and it made everything taste weird.
He took a glass and sat in the corner so he could see when Wilbur was coming back. He could already see the dude coming back, so that didn't really do anything, but it made him feel better. That probably said wonders about his mindset, but he already knew that he had issues.
Wilbur had his mug of something sitting on the table, there was a string coming out of it, so he assumed some sort of tea, but he wasn't sure which one. Not that it mattered. Wilbur sat down and gave him another smile. This bitch was smiling too much, all of them seemed strained like he didn't actually know how to take care of a kid.
"So, Hi, I'm Wilbur although you already knew that. I am a hybrid, I understand if that makes you uncomfortable." That was good to know. It was probably the reason the house was kept warm. "I just don't show my traits very often. That is why the house is warm if it bothers you please tell me. Ask all the questions you need." Wilbur said.
"What's up with a mini adult fostering a teenager?" He asked, cutting straight to the chase. Foster parents never liked that and he intended to exploit that.
"I was in the same position as you once," Wilbur said. "Several years into foster care as a teenager. You seemed like a good kid, I've been meaning to foster someone for a while. You just popped out at me."
"Probably because at some point or another, I make their lives a living hell." He said, making sure not to let any hint of sarcasm make its way in. But still… this dude had the same thing happen to him?
The side of Wilbur's mouth quivered as if he found his answer funny, but at the same time, his grip on his tea had tightened. Maybe this dude didn't like the idea of that.
"Duly noted." Wilbur nodded.
"Cool… What are the rules?" That was the Second thing that one should always ask.
"Don't bother me if the study door is closed unless it's an emergency. Try not to do anything illegal. That's it. I don't think you need many." Wilbur admitted.
Tommy narrowed his eyes. He didn't believe what he'd said one bit, but it wasn't like he could just ignore them. There was no way that was it though.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously," Wilbur repeated.
"And… let's say I were to do something illegal, what would happen?" He asked.
"Well," Wilbur drew out the word much further than he should've, "I presume you'd likely get arrested, and then I'd bail you out."
"Just like that?" Foster parents didn't do the whole bailing out thing from what he'd heard. What was up with this guy?
"Just like that," Wilbur said, picking up his tea and having a sip.
"Why?"
"Believe me, I've had to bail my brother out of jail before. I know the process." Wilbur said. Well, that was mildly concerning. He wasn't sure how he felt about this brother then. "As long as it isn't too bad, you'll be fine. Like, I don't know, punching a dickhead."
Huh, that was good to know.
Was there anything else he should ask? Those were always his basic questions if he even got to ask any at all. He'd gotten more information than he usually got. This was weird. This was not supposed to be happening. Could he go back up to the bedroom? He should go back up.
"Can I go back upstairs?" Tommy asked, scanning for how Wilbur reacted.
Even if this guy had been in the foster care system before that didn't mean Tommy had to trust him. He'd seen plenty of folks who had been in the foster system and acted like assholes. Fortunately, Wilbur didn't react negatively, but he didn't react positively either. Just neutral, with no change in his expression.
"Yeah, and just so you know, my bedroom is down there if you ever need anything," Wilbur said, pointing down the hallway that went on the other side of the kitchen.
Seemed like a stupid idea to have Tommy's bedroom at the top of the staircase leading directly to the front door, but he wouldn't complain. Complaining only led to bad things and he usually gave it a couple of days before he let himself be a straight-up asshole. Besides, in the worst-case scenario that would be very helpful.
"Cool." He muttered getting up but bringing his glass with him.
He wasn't sure how Wilbur would react to him leaving his cup out, so he might as well take it with him. Wilbur didn't protest him taking it with him either, which Tommy took as a win. He wasn't sure what this house would be like but so far so good. Then again it was the first day. The first day always went well.
He reached the stairs, and winced, feeling the familiar pain pushing against the inside of his back. It wasn't like they were physically in his back, but that's what it felt like sometimes, he'd never really understood it himself. No one could explain it to him either, it wasn't like he could find anyone that was like him. Yeah, he should take care of this before it gets worse. He knew how it felt when he forgot for a long time and he was not anxious to go through that again.
He climbed the stairs, already absentmindedly skipping the stair that creaked. It was good to get into that habit early. Going into the bedroom, he locked the door the moment it closed. It was just such a relief to have a door that locked. Sure, Wilbur probably had a key, but it still made him feel loads better. It had to have been some psychological issue that made that happen.
Right, now to take care of the thing that was ailing him. He really should've done this days ago, before it got bad but he'd forgotten like the idiot he was. Then again this was not the worst situation he'd been in.
Tommy quickly took off his shirt, not fancying his shirt getting ripped in half again. He'd lost too many shirts from being desperate to get the pain to end. Wings that wanted to be let out stopped for nothing.
His wings spread out, appearing in almost an instant. A feeling he'd become very used to. The feeling of them being free in the open air was great. Sliding out from whatever otherworldly place they resided when he willed them to disappear. He was fairly sure it had something to do with shapeshifter genes, but he'd never gotten that explanation. He didn't even know if he actually had them. Maybe this was his way of hiding, evolving alongside other hybrids. That would make sense.
He exhaled, the pain ebbing away from his shoulders. Rolling his shoulders back got rid of the stiffness that came with letting his wings out. It made him relax as well.
Markings of something demonic. His personality didn't help with how much he was a bitch, but he'd given up on trying to be nice a long time ago. They didn't look like regular wings. Rather like demons, but at the same time, they looked different enough that it made him confused.
Tommy knew he wasn't a demon though, no, there were other things. He was pretty sure at least that these weren't the only things he was supposed to have. It could be described as a phantom limb, He guessed. He knew they'd show up someday; he just wasn't sure what they'd be or when. The feeling of phantom limbs was one that never went away and was frankly annoying.
Pitch black scaled wings. Who'd ever heard of those on anything but Demons?