Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy had been on this case for two weeks now, simply watching and waiting from the shadows. The premise had been mostly simple: capture the leaders of the manufacturing industry that was making trouble for the agency on the streets of this city. 

Tommy had been assigned one; his mission partner—Ranboo— had been assigned the other. Secure and contain. Or, if it came down to it, kill without another thought. 

As Tommy trailed his target down the street, that is what played in his head on repeat, as if someone had been put on loop. He wouldn’t fail this mission now. He couldn’t. 

“Heading north down 21st,” he relayed into his earpiece, just quiet enough that any passerbys wouldn’t question his directions. 

“Manager two is heading towards you,” Tommy’s mission partner chirped in his ear. “Suspecting a convergence.”

Tommy had suspected just as much, too. Otherwise, there was no reason for Mr. Quinten to be heading this way, unless he was to turn abruptly to oversee his work’s progress. As far as Tommy was aware, neither him nor his manager partner had any idea what was about to happen. 

“I have eyes on Quinten,” said the voice in his ears, Ranboo’s voice had never stilled Tommy’s mind entirely until now. “Where are you?”

“That’s not…” Tommy blinked at the figure he was currently trailing— an individual that had left Quinten’s room right on schedule as he’d planned. So, if his partner had eyes on his target, then who…? “Suspecting a switch—!” 

Tommy’s eyes locked onto the faintest movement from his imposter target. A falter in their step, then their head snapped abruptly to the left. They tried to cover it quickly, but Tommy had already seen. This person was a distraction for him. And, that meant that they knew too much. 

“Pursuing an imposter,” Tommy relayed into his earpiece. “Suspecting knowledge to deal with accordingly.” 

“Stand down,” commanded a third voice in Tommy’s ear— the all seeing eye behind everything— Tubbo. “Don’t blow your cover.” 

Too late. 

The hooded figure before Tommy suddenly took off into a run, as if suspecting that he was onto them and, just like that, Tommy’s plan was solidified. 

He grinned manically as he recognized the chase was truly on now. No longer was he trailing an unsuspecting victim, now this was real. The person had realized, and the hunt was on. 

Tommy took off in a sprint after the hooded figure, much to the displeasure of the voices chattering in his ears. He twisted through the crowds of people, sliding through each available portion presented to him like it was second nature.  

As he burst into the open, his eyes tracked the figure down the street, just moving to turn into an alleyway. Tommy pushed himself harder, thinking back to the map of the city he’d memorized just hours prior. As the nearest alleyway came up to him, he turned into it, sprinting through the puddles and grime it contained. 

As he popped out the other side, his eyes directed towards the street where the maredowell could have only gone. As his eyes detected nothing out of the ordinary, however, he stilled. 

A count of three was all it took for him to realize what was going on. As he directed his attention to the sky, he could see the hooded figure watching him from the roof. With that, he took off again. It was unlikely that they would be able to get off of this path anyways. 

“Tommy!” The voices continued to shout in his ears, all but yelling at him for doing his job. “Stand down!” 

Tommy ignored them in favor of the chance. He didn’t care if he got in trouble, so long as he actually gathered something from this mission. 

This street was less crowded than the one before it, but it still held the choice individuals of the city Tommy found himself in. He kept pace with the figure on the roof, heading down the street towards what looked to be a warehouse where Tommy knew the operations of this whole mess to be. He wasn’t supposed to reveal himself. Not yet. But, perhaps these people would realize what she  was here to do. 

This person proved to be fast, he would admit that much, but they were no match for a trained assassin. Once they reached this warehouse, they would have nowhere to go, and Tommy knew it. 

As Tommy reached that building, he wasted no time despite how his friends were screaming in his ears about insubordination, but Tommy didn’t care. The thrill of it all distracted him, and he didn’t care for whatever consequences the agency would have for him. All he knew was that it couldn’t have been death if he played his cards right. 

Tommy burst through the doors right as the figure came through the skylight on the roof, tumbling to land on the landing above the huge vats of liquid being tended to in this area. 

Quickly, Tommy drew a weapon from his side — well, perhaps the thing he’d least call a weapon— and fired it at the nearby pole holding up the landing. A hook with a rope attached shot out towards where he’d indicated and, before it had even met its mark, Tommy clipped the belt around his waist. 

He drew his gun as he was yanked towards the landing spot of the hook, gun aimed directly for the individual, who had yet to move. He fired off a few warning rounds when they tried and they seemed to get the message. 

“Don’t move!” Tommy shouted to them as his feet met the flimsy metal of the landing. “Turn slowly now. You don’t want to get shot.” 

And, finally, the figure raised their hands from the cloak, a poor choice of clothing to run in, and slowly began to turn to face Tommy. 

The figure removed their hood, and Tommy blinked in surprise as a tangle of blonde hair flowed out. His eyes moved up to their face — her face. He’d been chasing a woman through the streets? That part irked him perhaps the least, however. This wasn’t his target and, more importantly, why did she look so familiar?

He must’ve seen her on this mission prior. That was the only explanation. He would’ve remembered that, he felt like he'd been trained to memorize every detail, but… perhaps it really had slipped his mind. 

He shook his head as his thoughts continued to whirl out of whack, trying to grasp what he was doing here. 

He approached her, anyways, determined not to leave loose ends. “You ran, so you know what I’m here for. Come quietly. It’s a simple procedure.”

The woman continued to stare at him, her blue eyes wide as they scanned him up and down. “I’m sorry about this,” she finally said. “This is the only way.”

Before Tommy had time to respond, all of a sudden, something hard cracked against the side of his head, and his vision went dark. 

Chapter Text

Tommy had never been one for waking up without a clue about what was going on. Though, in a way, he supposed it happened to him a lot. Or, rather, once in such a memorable way, it made up for his complete lack of memory before it. That time, he’d woken up in a room so bright, he’d actually thought he was dead. Of course, that was before he was ever so rudely introduced to some other people and the harsh slap of reality had slammed into him. 

“You’re a secret agent now,” he remembered them saying to him after they’d thrown him in a glass cell like an animal. “Enjoy it while you can.” 

That’s how quickly things happened to Tommy. One minute; perhaps living a normal life, the next; a secret agent on a dangerous mission for people who viewed him as a number. 

Of course, that had been years ago, back when Tommy actively tried escaping the agency that took in half-dead people that no one would miss. He’d learned since then that he really didn’t have anything else to go back to. He didn’t remember anything from his life before and, he supposed, in the most twisted ways, that he was thankful he didn’t have anything to miss. 

Secret Agent Tommy Innit; serial number 39172: that was his name now. Whichever version of him that had existed outside of the agency was dead to the world and, in turn, dead to him. And, the worst part was, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even gotten a grave. 

One thing led to another and now Tommy found himself waking up to the stench of something rotten. Blood was rushing to his head and he was aware of the feeling of his arms hanging limply over his head. His ankles were numb with the constricting feeling of what he swore was a snake as he forced his consciousness back into the right spot. 

Tommy cracked open his eyes and immediately regretted it. Just below him, maybe the distance of a small building, a hot, bubbling vat of chemicals sat, mouth open and ready to gobble him up. 

“Shit!” He cursed and consciousness rushed back to him frantically. “What the—!”

“Stop struggling!” a familiar voice above him grunted out, strained from effort. 

Tommy craned his neck up, though the sight he was met with only added to fuel his panic more. His feet were wrapped up tightly in rope that looked suspiciously like the material from his grappling gear. And, on the end of that rope, the only barrier from Tommy hitting the chemicals, his partner in crime stood on the metal banister above. 

Ranboo had come into the agency just a bit after Tommy, though Tommy still liked to say they were the superior agent despite them reaching the final level of training around the same time. It was true, of course, Ranboo wouldn't have gone anywhere without him anyways, they were far too shy anyways. 

“Ranboo!” Tommy called. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean ‘what did I do?” Ranboo shouted back snappily, voice strained and worn. “How could you not see that coming?”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d do!” Tommy snapped back, he didn’t want to mention the fact that he didn’t even remember much from the events of this entire mission. Had he hit his head? Was that what had knocked him out? The last thing he remembered was running after someone. Who was that? “You must’ve done something!” 

“Do you want me to let go?” Ranboo snapped. 

“Why would you do that? It’s manslaughter! Tubbo would have your head!” 

It’s manslaughter, the thought amused Tommy just slightly. It might’ve amused him more if he hadn’t been two second away from his death— or, at the very least, a whole deal of pain. Manslaughter was their entire job description.
“He’d have your head, too! He’d cut it off himself and donate it to science!”

Tommy supposed they had a point. Though, the point where Ranboo was mistaken: Tubbo would donate his head to science, sure, but it would just land back in the mailbox of the boy’s “evil” laboratory, as he liked to call it. He’d put it in a jar on one of his collectors’ shelves. 

Tommy was so glad that Tubbo couldn’t hear them now, though he wasn’t sure what had knocked the comms offline. He had only known Tubbo in the time he’d been considered an agent, though he still liked to consider the slightly twisted boy his brother. Tubbo was like Iron Man, if Iron Man was 5’5, had an odd obsession with bodies, and was teetering dangerously along the lines of crazy and genius. Though, in a way, Tommy supposed most geniuses’ we’re like that anyways. If Tubbo had the opportunity to have anyone’s body open on an operating table, he’d take it, even if it was his best friend. 

Tommy shuddered at the thought but was quickly jolted back to the present to the sight of the vat of chemicals bouncing closer to him when the grip on the rope holding him slackened. “Hey!” He shouted, definitely in a manly tone and not at all shrilly despite how his voice made the metal tanks in the room ring. His hands shook to balance himself even though he knew it couldn’t be possible. 

“Sorry!” Ranboo called back. 

The heat from the chemicals jumped up to grab at Tommy, as if drawing him in, and made cold sweat drip from his skin. The rotten-scented fumes alone that wafted from below him were enough to make his lung’s shudder uncomfortably in his chest. “Ranboo!” he coughed. “Dude, pull me up!” 

“Kinda busy!” Ranboo shouted back.
Their voice was punctuated by the sound of a gunshot and Tommy looked up at just the right moment to watch the body of a man plummet towards the vat. He lurched out of the way instinctively, hands curling to protect his face, not one to allow a man to slam into him like he was a bowling pin. A mistake, he soon learned, for when he finally snapped back to his original position, something suddenly cracked into the side of his skull. 

He cried out, and swore he felt the bones in his body rearrange as he swung back again. Just as quickly, he found himself fighting to regain his senses when he felt something shift above him. 

Ranboo cried out loudly, the rope loosened,  closely followed by a metallic clang and, finally, a cold snap. 

Tommy barely had time to curse, to think, before he was suddenly spiraling towards the vat of chemicals below. 

His body met the liquid first, quickly followed by his head, and it was like he’d hit cement. He cried out, though quickly realized his mistake when green sludge flooded into his sinuses. He kicked and pushed through the liquid and its tickling sensation, heading for the sweet prospect of air since he wasn’t keen on dying if he could help it. 

“Toms!” Tommy froze, arms frozen mid-flail at the familiar voice that hit his ears as if a person were hovering beside him. When he turned his head, though, he found nothing but a swirling, bubbling pool of sludge. He moved to keep heading for the surface, but suddenly, a force from behind slammed into him. 

The green hue of the chemicals exploded into fluorescent white and Tommy instinctively slammed his eyes shut, only to feel as if he’d hit the water again, albeit a bit more gentle this time. His head was spinning circles like somersaults beneath the water. Still, he kept his eyes shut and headed for the surface, only to feel as the liquid beside him was suddenly disturbed and bubbles were quick to tickle his limbs. 

His head broke the surface, but when Tommy looked around, he found himself staring at the wooden poles of an algae-infested dock. He turned and gaped at the sight of a pond surrounded on all sides by great, white oak trees and a vast forest of colors. 

Another head broke the surface next to him and Tommy whipped towards it, panic filling his veins, his hand shot for his gun, but… suddenly, he froze. He… recognized the boy… 

“Ha!” Said boy looked just slightly older than Tommy’s current age of... around 16-17, he thought. “You should’ve seen your face! I got you good!”

Despite the fact that Tommy couldn’t put a name to the face, he still felt it to be very familiar… almost… similar to his own. The same curly hair, though a dark brown opposed to blonde, the same face and eye-shape… who was he? 

“You alright?” The teen asked and swam slightly closer to Tommy, a tanned hand emerging from the waves to smooth Tommy’s hair from his face, pushing back the wet muck that clung to his forehead. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“I..I what?”

“Did you hit the dock?” 

“No, I just—!”

“That’s good!” A smile broke through the worry like sunlight through dark clouds. “I’m glad! We wouldn’t want to head back early, now would we?” 

“Head back?” Tommy asked, prompting sharply like this was some interrogation. “Head back where?”

The boy ignored him and instead opted to swim a bit further back, his head laid against the water like a pillow as he pushed himself back. “It’s a nice day for a swim, don’t you think?”

“Where are we?” Tommy asked, still trying to get a clear response to end his confusion. “Who are you?”

The boy moved from his position on the surface, back so his feet poised out of the water, a smile still encapsulating his features. Then, without warning, he brought his hands up and splashed Tommy cleanly in the face.

Tommy sputtered as the droplets hit him, then before he could stop himself, instinctively he splashed the teen back. For whatever reason, it made his heart warm, as if the action was the funniest thing Tommy had done all day. Forget the mission, this was a hell of a lot more fun and way less dangerous! 

The teen’s expression twisted into mock offense and he pushed himself forwards until the two were nearly face to face. “You,” he gasped. “A dirty traitor!”

Tommy squealed when the teen reached out and grabbed him, a sound that he definitely wouldn’t have ever admitted left his lips. He squirmed and laughed playfully as fingers went to flutter around his armpits and his stomach, tickling him senselessly. 

“I thought I could trust you!” The teen continued dramatically, as if he were putting on a play for a child. “My own brother!” 

That was enough to make Tommy freeze in his tracks. Brother?

“Tommy!” 

A phantom hand slammed into Tommy’s cheek, stinging it sharply and the scene before him flashed back into the cold ceiling of the factory as his eyes flew open. 

Tommy gagged as liquid rushed up his throat, slimy and rough. The next thing he knew, he was being helped onto his side as the chemical sludge forced its way from his body, expelled like a bad meal. It hit the ground with a wet slap, punctuated by the loud heave that left Tommy’s agonized lips. 

“Dude,” panted the familiar voice of Ranboo above him. A shaky hand lightly patted at his back, as if trying to help restart his lungs, but also trying not to cause injury. Such a Ranboo thing to do. “Are you okay?” 

“What—?” Tommy choked out and, when his voice scraped out of his throat like a chain smoker, he brought a soft hand to rest against his neck. He coughed out the last of the sludge, cringing at the stench and bad taste it left in his mouth. “What the hell?” He honestly couldn’t think of much else to say. Was this even real? Where had the other teenage boy gone? 

Ranboo’s hands cupped behind his back and gently helped him into a sitting position away from the stench of bile, though it was clear their expression was plagued with worry. “I pushed the rest of the guys into the stuff and pulled you out. I was so scared you didn’t survive that fall…” 

Tommy glanced around, only to discover the truth behind the agent’s words. Bodies littered the floor and, quite possibly, the surface of the tanks, too. The silver lining of the tanks were streaked with splashes of red and green, as if Christmas had come early and these were the world’s worst decorations.

“Hardcore,” he muttered and coughed into his fist again, pushing it once more against his chest when something caught there. “What the hell even hit me…?” 

“Dunno…” Ranboo sighed. It was at that point, after studying Tommy to make sure he wasn’t going to keel over, they sat back.  They worriedly clasped their hands around their knees then leaned forwards slightly. “It all happened so fast…” 

“Yeah…” Tommy mused, though as he looked back towards the vat of chemicals, he couldn’t help but feel differently towards them. It wasn’t fear or panic… it was more like a longing sensation to find out more of this mystery boy… of this simpler time. “Are we good?”

“We, uh… finished early. Doyle and Quinten came in to check things out. I got them, too.” 

“Good…” Tommy said, and laid his head back against the comfort of the solid ground beneath him. He pumped his fist into the air half-heartedly, sarcasm dripping from his words as he next spoke. “Woo-hoo…” 

“I’m glad you’re alright…” Ranboo continued to fill the silence of thought with meaningless words, which was usually Tommy’s job, so it was odd for them to act this way. “I thought you’d drowned…” 

Tommy snorted. Maybe he did. Maybe this was a dream… a really realistic, painful dream…. His head was throbbing the most, somehow even more than his chest, even though… wait… as he sat there processing the events and his own thoughts, a thought suddenly popped up in his head like Broadway lights. “Hold on!” He crowed in disgust and whipped his head towards Ranboo. “Did you kiss me?” 

Ranboo’s heterochromatic eyes widened in their sockets, they usually avoided eye contact like it was nobody’s business, but somehow it was even worse.

“Dude!” Tommy gasped in a breath, but quickly regretted it when his lungs betrayed him and he was forced to choke out the next sentence in between a wheezing laugh. “We’re not like that!” 

“It was CPR, Tommy!” 

“I can’t believe you’ve done this!” Tommy cried dramatically and fell back onto the hard surface that made the flooring. He dramatically laid a hand across his chest, throwing his head back as if he’d joined a soap opera. “I’m a married man!” 

“Married?” Ranboo sputtered back, voice almost considered believing. It was as if he hadn’t recalled that the two had worked together for at least 6 years now. 

Still, Tommy bobbed his head up and down. “Married!” He repeated and lifted a finger up to emphasize his point. “To the grind!” 

“Tommy—!” 

Tommy waved him off softly and, when Ranboo finally moved away, he went to work on standing up. All of his previous worries flickered into warm satisfaction when he realized his body still seemed to be in top-shape, albeit a bit achy. His head felt… off… but nothing he couldn’t handle. Though, it was hard to remember a day where he hadn’t been achy at least once. 

“Are you… okay?” Ranboo piped up beside him, shooting to their feet with hands hovering close to Tommy as if they were scared he’d suddenly keel over. “You’re not hurt, are you? It was a long fall.” 

“Never been better, Big Man!” Tommy crowed and placed his hands triumphantly on his hips, ignoring how his head was spinning. “Call it in, Boobie, we’ve completed this mission!”
“That’s not…” Ranboo sighed and shook their head, then ever so slowly their hands fell back to their sides in defeat. “Whatever. You’re fine.” Their hand then drifted up to his ear, where their earpieces were neatly tucked away beneath their hair. “Tubbo? Call it in. Mission complete.” 

Chapter Text

During the car ride back home in the black government Sudan, Tommy felt every aspect of his adrenaline rush. He might’ve been getting high off the fumes of the new car stench, though he still felt it nonetheless. The ride itself consisted of pure darkness, as it was protocol to cover the agent’s eyes so that no one may know the location of their secret agency. But, Tommy didn’t care. 

Ranboo sat placidly beside him and, judging by the movement the person’s hands made, they were fiddling with the zip tie around their wrists as the two sat in silence.

Usually, their rides were punctuated with Tommy’s triumphant ramblings, given they were the best team… but, Tommy hated to admit how tired he was. His head throbbed like someone was drilling a jackhammer in there, or perhaps a screwdriver. Something large that made an ‘eeee’ sound. 

He opted to keep that much to himself, though, in fear of losing his job if he were to show weakness. As long as he was useful, he was safe. If he lost his job, he lost his life. 

No one made comments on it, anyways, so he deemed himself to be protected for now. He could always blame it on exhaustion, right? He wasn’t faulty… just sore. 

The car rolled to a stop perhaps about an hour later, though Tommy had never been exactly sure just how accurate his calculations were. He could tell as the light above flicked on just vaguely through the cloth of his mask, and heard as the front car doors were opened. He waited in anticipation, nearly counting the handler’s footsteps as they rounded on the backdoors to let their agents out. 

1… 2… 3… stop… pivot...

“Randall!” Tommy exclaimed, desperate to play it cool when at last the door was opened and a hand reached in to  grab his arm. “Always a pleasure!” 

“That’s not my name,” the growling voice said and rather ungracefully tossed Tommy onto the cold pavement of the Agency’s loading zone. 

He hit the ground with a thud, this time completely unable to catch himself, and the world spun blindly around him. He grit his teeth just slightly as the nausea gripped him and the cement scraped his palms, but luckily, he and Randall had never been on the same level of caring. 

“Jesus, Randall…” he grumbled, fighting back the vomit that threatened to rise in his throat. “Can’t you be gentle? I’m tired.” 

“Quit whining and call me by my right name.”

The car door slammed shut and the ziptie was cut loose, Tommy wasted no time to push the blindfold from his eyes before the sensory overload kicked in. He blinked thoroughly at the sudden light that assaulted his eyes, but still held out the blindfold to Randall, who loomed above him like a predator to prey. “Well, you never tell me your name, Man,” he inquired as the blindfold was snatched away. “What else am I supposed to call you? Prick?”

“How about Sir?” Randall snapped and, this time, Tommy got to see as his teeth bared when he spoke, it was as if he had a vendetta against the world. 

“That’s a terrible name,” Tommy hummed in consideration as Randall fixed the sunglasses rested upon his nose and straightened out his suit. It was as if the mere presence of Tommy made him feel dirty and unprofessional. “How about… Roy?” He called as Randall/Roy headed for the passenger door again. “Rocky?”

“Good day, Agent.” Rocky spat out and, with a final head notion, that was most likely a less than threatening head roll, he slammed the car door shut. 

Tommy held his position on the ground, completely willingly and, as the sundan skidded off into the distance, he flipped them the bird. They didn’t turn back, though, they never did. 

“Come on, Tommy,” Ranboo said and, as they approached, reached out a hand to knock away the rude gesture. “You don’t want to make them dislike us more than they already do.”

“Like I care,” Tommy mused and turned a wincing look up to Ranboo. “If they bust my ass one of these days throwing me from the car, I’ll sue them.”
“You and what army, exactly?” 

Tommy glared daggers up at them. “You’re a real prick.”

Ranboo snorted, then offered Tommy a hand down to him, which Tommy took gracefully. “Right back at you.” 

Tommy stumbled to his feet, giggling slightly at his own incoordination, but luckily Ranboo steadied him before he toppled over again. His head was spinning quickly now, but, of course, it had to be just a headache. He was still useful. He had to be. 

“You good?” 

“He nearly busted my ass, Ran,” Tommy chuckled lightly and punched Ranboo’s arm. “I’m sore, Bruv.” 

“I can imagine so.”

“Aren’t there better ways to do CPR?” Tommy whined. “Whenever I breathe too deeply, it feels like you’ve stuck a dagger into my heart.”

“Sorry,” Ranboo replied sheepishly. “At least you’re not dead.”

Tommy scoffed, and shook his head. “Right,” he grumbled. “Fantastic.” 

“Think you can work your way through debriefing? Does it hurt that bad?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, pushing all of the air out of his lungs until that familiar ache returned. He brought a hand to rest against his sternum, but he’d honestly felt worse pain before. “Ranboo,” he began, and shook his head in disappointment. “How could you think so little of me? Worming is what I’m best at!” 

Chapter Text

In fact, Tommy managed to make it through debriefing and the med eval with flying colors. It was as if all of his training had finally been put to fantastic use against the people who’d taught him it! 

No one suspected a thing when he said he’d been smacked in the head and the chest by the blunt of a gun— the markings left by Ranboo’s horrible, life-brining actions looked similar anyways. And, he was well determined to push through this headache with every fiber of his being just to not let these people know of his weakness. 

Sure, Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo may have made an alright team, but, just like everyone in this program, they were highly expendable. 

After being released from debriefing, where Tommy swore up and down that the imposter lady had needed to be chased for the protection of the agency, rather than his own boredom, he was sent off to clean up. 

Community showers sucked ass, but stars above if they didn’t feel good after a long day out at work. 

Tommy always made sure to turn the showers scalding hot, as if to burn away the problems that plagued him like a disease deep down. That… and, he’d heard that hot water cost more than cold. Perhaps it was an act of spite, perhaps it was an act of comfort, he didn’t know nor care. 

They’d changed from their solid black mission suits back into the agency required uniform: green cargo pants, a grey shirt, brown boots, and a beige, company printed jacket. A very militaristic-like outfit that Tommy despised to no extent. He’d once complained, but after one too many times having to hold books against the wall for hours and hours on end, he’d decided to keep his mouth shut. 

After missions, Tommy and Ranboo were free to do whatever they pleased… which really meant whatever they pleased within the limits of the agency. There was no walking in the park—really no walking outside the boundaries of the agency at all. They could spar, practice shooting, prompt their minds with puzzle games, prank Tubbo (which was a lot more likely than the others, though Tubbo usually got the upper hand and turned it back on them.) 

‘Here’s some freedom,’ the agency had basically said. ‘Only it’s not freedom. It’s work with perks.’ 

As they entered, Tubbo’s lab was somehow brighter, as if he’d actually turned on a single light in here that didn’t have to do with some mandatory machine’s button providing such things. 

 A couple of screens were powered on atop of Tubbo’s main desk, one monitor’s page was opened to hard-core rock music, and the other’s was opened to research on… something scientific that Tommy didn’t understand in the slightest. 

The desk it sat upon was a scattered mess of chip bags and drinks, some fast food paper bags, and crumbled pieces of paper. It was a mess, yet so familiarly Tubbo. 

The lab itself was a big room littered with machines, so there was no sneaking up on Tubbo in here. When Ranboo and Tommy played pranks, they usually had to find a room where a nearby CAT scan machine wasn’t in the way. 

“Tubbo!” Tommy called in first, sure to announce his presence to avoid getting it in the eye with another rubber duck. 

He headed towards the main part of the lab, Ranboo close in tow, their boots clicking against the smooth, white tile that covered every square inch of this place. There were large screens at the back of the wall, perhaps to display data, or to have conference calls that Tommy was never allowed the luxury of ever sitting through. Tubbo ranked higher than himself and Ranboo after all. 

“Where’d he go?” Ranboo asked, his footsteps slower and more booming than Tommy’s, but prominent all the same. 

“He’s probably off getting McDonald’s or something again,” Tommy sighed. He reached the first computer monitor in record time, and squinted at the song that had been paused mid-way through, as if someone had done so in a hurry. “The Agency favors scientists over us, we know that much.”

“That’s probably because he’s smart,” Ranboo added. 

Tommy hummed in agreement. It was probably true enough anyways. Though, again, he would’ve been surprised if Tubbo had made a device that allowed him to teleport to McDonald’s at the click of a button. “Do you think he’ll bring us back—?” 

Something cold suddenly slid up the back of Tommy’s shirt, and he yelped in a completely manly way. His hands shot out towards the threat, but as he moved to whip around, another hand stopped him in his tracks. It grabbed onto his arm with such force, it made Tommy physically freeze. 

“Shh…” Tubbo whispered and the cold bell of what was, more likely than not, a stethoscope slid across his back. “I’m listening.”

“Why?” Tommy whined. “You can just ask—” 

“Hush!” Tubbo snapped. “I’m doing research.” 

Tommy turned his head to meet Ranboo’s eye grumpily, though his anger only seemed to grow when he caught the glint of amusement in the older boy’s multi-colored eyes. ‘You’re lucky,’ he mouthed, then raised a hand up to his throat and drew a line across it. 

Ranboo chuckled softly and patted his shoulder in sympathy. It wasn’t much help to Tommy’s torture, it only really added onto it for Tommy to see the individual’s amusement. 

“You—!”

“Shh!” 

Tommy released a frustrated sigh, a soft growl floating on his breath like a feather in the wind. He crossed his arms over his chest and grit his teeth together, though he knew better than to disobey Tubbo’s stupid direct orders. 

The boy had always had such a weird fascination with bodies, though he’d never explained why. Perhaps it was something in his past, perhaps he was simply a weird quirk, perhaps it really was research, Tommy didn’t know. He couldn’t find the energy to really care anymore, seeing as he was assaulted with a stethoscope nearly every day. 

Sometimes it was on the chest, sometimes the stomach — really any weird place that Tubbo could come up with to make himself seem even weirder. ‘It’s for research, it’s for research,’  he would claim over Tommy’s protests, his main victim. ‘You can’t report me if it’s research!’ 

Tommy knew. He had tried. Many times. 

Even still, whenever Tommy asked, Tubbo got that distant look in his eye that meant that the topic wasn’t up for discussion. All in all, Tommy usually dropped it there. 

When Tubbo’s hand at last slid out of his shirt, though, Tommy spun around hotly, distant looks be damned. “What was that for?”

“It was research,” Tubbo replied simply. He wrapped his stethoscope back around his neck, then headed back over to his table, a dark pen already in hand, pushed open. 

“On what?” Tommy demanded. “Being a creep?”
“No, I think that’s only you,” Tubbo muttered. He scribbled something down in his notepad, his sloppy writing only adding to the frustrating factor of the entire situation, seeing as Tommy couldn’t even read it. “I wanted to see how your body would react when you’re startled, then upset for being startled. The hypothesis was that you’d smack me and yell.” 

“I tried—!”

“But, then I realized that I have some control over that and here we are.”
“You’re so weird,” Tommy shot back, his hands working to smooth back out the shirt that had previously been disturbed. He straightened out the company issue jacket, not wanting to receive any more looks from senior agents in the hallway than he always had. “What? You want to be a doctor, or something?”

“I already am,” Tubbo grinned. “I have a PhD and everything!”

“You do?”

And, Tubbo’s sly smirk said enough. Tommy would never know for sure. 

“Well, you can just ask , man! I told you I don’t have a problem with it.” 

“I know,” Tubbo flopped back into his spinning chair, then spun so he was facing the two. He smiled almost creepily , then twirled his pen between his fingers with a chuckle. “Nothing to report?” 

“No!” Tommy shot out, perhaps a bit too quickly judging by Tubbo’s confused expression. “I mean… no… nothing.” 

“You sure?” Tubbo asked and slowly pressed his fingertips together, as if making a miniature tent. He lifted a brow at Tommy specifically, as if he could secretly read his mind. 

Throw your pen if you can hear this, Tommy thought quickly and, thankfully, Tubbo didn’t rush to oblige. 

Self-consciously, Tommy scanned the one around them for anything out of the ordinary. Perhaps a mind reader was truly the case, seeing as Tubbo seemed to have far too much free time on his hands these days. All that caught his attention was the one half of the room before his attention was forcefully drawn back. 

“Well?”

“Are you reading my mind?” 

“Your eye is twitching,” Tubbo noted.

Tommy paused to chuckle nervously. “Erm… what?” 

“Your eye,” Tubbo said and demonstrated by tugging the skin beneath his own eye down just slightly, exposing the whites of it like some fucked up doll. “It’s twitching. Every time I flick this light at you, actually.”

“The what—?” Tommy glanced around again, noting nothing out of the ordinary, before he heard Tubbo click something softly, and a nearby light flashed on and off, coming from the bottom of the pen. It was half-hidden under the boy’s tent of fingers, but still pointed at Tommy’s face. He blinked instinctively, especially as the light seared into his head, but Tubbo didn’t need to know that. “I’m… fine.” 

“You are a terrible liar,” Tubbo chuckled. “How did you make it through training?”

Tommy glanced over to Ranboo, his response in a nutshell. He didn’t need to make it through if he had someone carrying him. “I’m… awesome,” he decided upon staying instead. 

Tubbo, unfortunately, hadn’t seemed to have dropped the previous subject. The one Tommy had been actively trying to avoid. He trusted Tubbo, sure, but… how well did he trust him in front of their superiors?

Would Tommy get suspended to the streets for having a headache? “Are you… going to tell?”

“Will it hinder your performance?” 

Tommy blinked at him and shook his head sharply, but quickly regretted it when his head began to spin. He was forced to look away, albeit a bit too soon, as Tubbo’s head swung to follow him. 

“How bad?” The boy asked. 

“Hm?”

“How bad?” 

“I’ll live…” Tommy grumbled, defeated. 

Tubbo hummed under his breath, then pushed himself out of the squeaky chair, uncaring as it creaked in protest beneath him. “Can I check—?”

“No!” Tommy snapped almost instinctively and caught Tubbo’s hand as he began to pull that penlight into view. “Jesus, Tubbo, no. That hurts.” 

Tubbo pouted openly, his brow furrowing deeply in such a way that it made Tommy’s gut twist. “How am I supposed to know if it’ll hinder your performance?” 

“It won’t,” Tommy sighed, honestly just a bit too tired to argue. “Can’t I just sleep it off?”

Tubbo scanned him up and down, large blue eyes moving up and down Tommy’s frame with what could only be described as worry. “Very well…” he said. “But I'd still like to run some tests if it continues. If it still hurts tomorrow, let me know. And, don’t bother trying to lie because I’ll know then, too.” 

Tommy nodded, opting to stay silent for Tubbo’s ability to just sense a lie from across a room. 

Jump up and down if you can hear this, Tommy stared Tubbo down as he thought. Once again, the boy didn’t react. 

Instead, Tubbo shot him a slightly concerned look, but didn’t say any more on the matter. “Right,” he said instead and pushed himself from the chair, the serious tone now forgotten. “Why don’t we just forget about it? You both have training to do!” 

Chapter Text

The facility the agency was held in had proved time and time again to be huge. So big that it was a struggle to remember that they were ultimately trapped there. 

In every corner of the building, or perhaps dugout bunker, there was a room for everything. Any situation or scenario a person could come up with was somehow findable despite the massive size. 

Tommy knew of various ways to use the rooms to his advantage, but he perhaps didn’t use them as much as the other agents did. In fact, for the most part, he spent his time in his ‘cell’; a small room with a single bed, bathroom, and nightstand. It was perhaps the most constricting thing about the whole place, yet it’s tightness made Tommy feel secure. Walking down the halls of the facility made him feel exposed. He hadn’t exactly been well liked in training anyways, and the glares of the other agents showed that well. 

Still, being a spy had its perks because Tommy was fantastic at staying out of the way. He knew how to work the system and, more importantly, he knew the times of days where agents wouldn’t be occupying most rooms. Dinner time. 

Per usual, he opted to skip the huge gathering of people to take some time to himself. Usually, this time was spent beating the hell out of Ranboo or a punching bag in one of the facility's various gyms. Today, though, Ranboo was Tommy’s bitch. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Ranboo was asking behind a boxing pad as Tommy put every emotion he’d ever felt into punching it. “You fell hard.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy panted sharply, and slammed his fist forwards again, smirking when Ranboo winced. “Just took a nap, Ran.”

“No, you were unconscious,” Ranboo noted worriedly. 

Tommy scoffed. “Did I have a pulse?”

“Well, yeah, but—!”

“Then, congrats! I wasn’t dead! No need to worry!”

“You weren’t breathing,” Ranboo grumbled pointedly. “That was my main worry.”

Tommy rolled his eyes at Ranboo’s consistent nagging. In all honesty, his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, but, overall, he was fine. Perfectly fine. Normal. “You know what you should be worried about?” He asked. 

“What?”

“You should be more worried about me accidently missing this pad and punching you in the jaw.”

Ranboo sighed a quiet breath. “That’s rude, Tommy,” they said. “I’m only trying to help.”

Tommy punched the pad again, knocking Ranboo back just a step enough for him to feel triumphant. “Stop asking the same question, then,” he snapped. “And, don’t tell Tubbo. At all. He can think my head hurts but, besides that, I don’t want you to discuss this.”

“And, if you catch pneumonia?”

Tommy barked a laugh and, for the first time, his punch faltered, and he fell back in place to cackle. “Pneumonia?” He demanded, and briefly rested a hand over his stomach to laugh harder. “Oh, my God, Ranboo!” 

“What?” Ranboo demanded, cheeks obviously going pink. “It’s a real thing! You could get an infection from inhaling a liquid!”

Tommy laughed harder,  even amidst Ranboo’s embarrassed protests. It made his head pound harder, as if it was being pumped full of hot air, but Tommy didn’t care. “Anything else I should worry about?” He snickered. “Am I going to go blind because my eyes were closed, too?”

“No, but you might have brain damage because of how long your brain was deprived of oxygen!”

Tommy laughed again, a deep and throaty sound that only Ranboo and Tubbo could truly help produce. “You’re comical!” He wheezed. 

Ranboo sucked in a huffy breath, and crossed their arms over their chest. “You’re laughing like you haven’t had pneumonia before.” 

Tommy’s head snapped up, the humor gone. “That was a long time ago!” He snapped, mouth wide open with shock. 

“Not that long,” Ranboo pointed out. “Especially when you got it on a mission due to similar circumstances?” 

Tommy glared at the individual openly and, with his energy having now faded, he went to work on removing the boxing gloves. “Whatever,” he grumbled. “You’ve killed the mood with your medical talk. I thought you didn’t want to go into the medical field?”

“It’s not medical talk,” Ranboo replied. “Just concern. Medical talk is Tubbo’s job.”

Tommy turned to face his friend once more, a sharp finger pointing in their direction. “I don’t want Tubbo to hear about this!” He snapped. “Not a word!”

“If you pass out, I’m telling him,” Ranboo lifted a brow. “And, I won’t leave out details.”

“You monster.”

This time, it was Ranboo who chuckled. “It takes one to know one, Tommy.” 

“Whatever,” Tommy grumbled and, begrudgingly, he tossed Ranboo the boxing gloves. “Want a turn?”

Ranboo lifted a brow at him quickly, then shook their head. “Unlike you, Tommy, I don’t have a lot of pent up anger at the world.”

“And, how could you not?” 

Ranboo smiled calmly. “I’m just not angry at everyone and everything like you are.”

Tommy scoffed a breath and Ranboo went to work on throwing the dirtied equipment into a basket. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to be if everyone weren’t such pricks,” 

“That’s just a world view, Tommy,” Ranboo replied. “Everything seems messed up right now but, trust me, there’s always a silver lining.”

“Yeah?” Tommy scoffed. “Like what?”

“Well, for starters, you have Tubbo and I,” Ranboo said. “And, number two? You’re never around here long enough to get your ass handed to you by a bunch of senior agents.”

All in all, Tommy supposed that Ranboo, per usual, had a point. 

“When’s the next mission?” He asked. “Tubbo give you anything.?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Ranboo said and, together, the two began heading for the doors. Dinner would be over soon and, with that, also came the refilling of the gyms by the way too-buff dudes who thought they needed to prove a point. 

Tommy hissed quietly. “Already?”

“What’s wrong?” Ranboo raised a brow at him, slightly concerned but, for the most part, expecting. “Not feeling up for it? What? Do you need another day?”

“Absolutely not,” Tommy said proudly and, with his free hand, punched Ranboo’s shoulder. “Needing a day is for pussies.”

The two turned to the doors, training session done enough that they were perhaps granted the luxury of a meal. The food was great here, perhaps not a far cry from prison food, but it was something. 

Tommy’s stomach was rumbling just thinking about it but, all of a sudden, he was pulled out of thought by the sight of the doors at the end of the room pushing open. They led to the locker rooms, the place Ranboo and Tommy needed to get by in order to get to the main lobby. 

A mixture of fear and anger boiled in Tommy’s stomach at the sight of familiar faces walking through. They were the duo of senior agents that Tommy hated the most. Dream and Sapnap. 

Chapter Text

Dream and Sapnap hadn’t even started too long before Tommy and Ranboo, yet they’d been bumped up to seniority because they’d just happened to get a case that pushed them up quickly. Meanwhile, Tommy and Ranboo were left to do grunge work; most of the jobs that most people didn’t want to do. Hit and runs, intel gathering, and, perhaps his least favorite, petty crimes. Things that surely cost more in the real world, but, here, they were child’s play. 

“Oh, look who it is!” Sapnap was quick to grin as he noticed the two walking towards them and he spread his arms wide. “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass! Did they let you guys off the playground?”

“You—!”

Ranboo moved a hand across Tommy’s chest when he moved to surge forwards, calmly holding him back while they replied. “We’re allowed to use this gym just as much as you are,” they said. “It’s public.”

“Yeah!” Tommy shot back. “You’re not good enough to have your own!” 

“What? You didn’t hear?” Sapnap pulled an innocent expression and Tommy hated that he actually fell for the manipulative look. 

Even how he knew he was falling for it, he still took the bait easily. Maybe they didn’t always lie. 

“No?” Tommy cleared his throat. “I mean, no! Because, unlike you slackers, we actually do work!” 

“They’re thinking about getting us our own private gym after we took out an international satellite gathering data!” Sapnap crowed. “Did you hear?” 

Tommy squinted his eyes, fighting to think back on whether or not he’d heard that before. Had they actually? “Y-You’re not getting a gym for it!” He snapped. “That’s ridiculous! You’re not special!” He wasn’t positive about the space station, though. Had the two actually been to space?

Finally, it was Dream who spoke up after Sapnap’s quiet cackling fit, rolling his eyes as he smacked Sapnap’s arm. “C’mon,” he said. “You’ll break him.”

“He’s so easy,” Sapnap giggled as the two groups passed each other by. He waved smugly at Tommy as he did so and Tommy fumed. 

“They wouldn’t let you idiots off of the planet!” He snapped. “You’d just break everything and screw everything up!” 

“Not if you beat us to it!” Sapnap called over his shoulder. 

“At least we have cases that don’t involve us having to go to the moon!” 

“Right,” Sapnap called back. “Have fun with grunge work! It’s where you belong.”

And, with that, Tommy broke. He felt Ranboo’s hand brush him as he spun around, but it was too late. He threw himself into Sapnap full force and the two went flying across the polished floors, landing hard. 

Dream and Ranboo shouted behind them, a mixture of frustration and groaning, but Tommy was already throwing his fists into Sapnap’s face. 

That smug look was gone, thankfully, leaving a surprised expression as Tommy got the upper hand. However, after about the third punch, suddenly Tommy saw the expression change. 

It all happened so fast that Tommy hadn’t even had much time to react. He felt Sapnap’s knees pinch together on his hips, but, before Tommy could even weasel his way out of the hold, Sapnap had turned. 

Tommy flew with the momentum, Sapnap’s weight crushing him as the stronger man rolled on top of his much slimmer frame. He got just a brief glance of Sapnap’s furious expression before a fist had slammed right into his face. Tommy saw stars. He fought to kick and squirm, attempted to make the same move that Sapnap had, but the fist came again. 

Every sense in his brain was sent into haywire, his eyes erupted with burning tears, and his nose instantly felt like an eggplant against his face. None of his muscles were listening to him and, terrified, Tommy felt as if he was shutting down. 

Only once was he granted the chance to breathe and it was when Sapnap’s hands closed around his shoulders. He recognized what was happening before it even occurred and, as Sapnap lifted him up, Tommy braced himself. 

He didn’t remember the impact. Only the sensation of… rumbling? No, that couldn’t be right. There were never earthquakes here. Wherever the facility was, it was saved from most of earth’s natural occurrences. Tommy often joked that they were in space. 

However, it was hardly the main issue at hand. Rather, Tommy found himself studying his shoes. They were his favorite pair of red converse, though he hadn’t seen them in a long time. He hadn’t even recalled that he’d owned a pair. 

His shoelaces hung down towards the floor, untied, as he usually did struggle with tying them. A voice was chattering to him and Tommy felt what only could have been described as a pit in his stomach. 

He was in the backseat of a car. The black, torn leather was frigid against the skin of his calves, currently dangling towards the floor. 

“What did I tell you?” A voice was speaking to him and, as Tommy lifted his gaze, he met familiar brown eyes in a rearview mirror in the front seat. “You can’t just hit a kid!”

“He was making fun of our family!” Tommy complained back. “I can’t let a bully be a bully!”

“Did you tell the teacher that he said that?” The familiar teenager said and quirked a brow. 

Tommy’s gaze drifted back to the seat before he could make out much more of this boy. “No…” he muttered regretfully. 

“So, he said it and you just punched him?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah!” The teenager chuckled. “But, not in front of the whole class! And, honestly, I’d go for less extreme tactics! When violence is used, that’s all people see, you hear? That kid wasn’t sent home for a comment, but you were!”

“That’s not my fault!” Tommy shot back. “They’re stupid!”

“You can’t use your fists to solve everything, okay?” The teenager said. “Do you understand?”

“Fine,” Tommy grumbled. He was never one to displease the most important member of his life, and the shame alone was sending hot, angry tears into his eyes. 

“What was that?”

“Fine—!” 

“Tommy!” 

The sound of the car rumbling faded, as did the color in Tommy’s eyes. It seemed as if the black carpet of the car had grown closer and, as it implanted itself into his eyes, Tommy suddenly found himself on the floor. The world had stopped moving and, instead of that familiar older teen, the voice was replaced by a slightly more annoying one. 

“Tommy?” Someone was shouting his name, hands latched onto his shoulders, but they felt so far away. “Tommy, can you hear me?” 

Tommy cracked open an eye, briefly noting the blurry figure swimming into view above him before he groaned. His head was throbbing, a stinging sensation pushing needles into his brain from every direction. 

He cursed under his breath, blinking harder to force his eyes to work correctly. It was there that he was able to see Ranboo hovering over him again, and embarrassment was quick to creep into his cheeks as he noticed Dream and Sapnap over their shoulders. 

“Get off,” he muttered, but he must’ve not been too coherent because Ranboo didn’t oblige. 

“Are you alright?” Ranboo was asking, waving three fingers in Tommy’s face like he was getting an eye exam. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Tommy grunted in response and, from his place on the floor, he raised a single one of his fingers, moving it into Ranboo’s view without shame. He smirked cheekily, tasting iron, as Ranboo moved the middle finger away. “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“That's not very nice,” Ranboo murmured absently and suddenly the hands that had been locked onto Tommy’s shoulders moved to ruffle through his hair, as if looking for lice.  “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” Tommy snapped and pushed Ranboo’s hands away in favor of dragging himself into a sitting position. As his eyes trailed to Dream and Sapnap watching from afar, he glowered. “What are you looking at?”

“Are you okay?” Dream asked. Beside him, Sapnap seemed too shocked to even speak. 

“What did I just say?” Tommy muttered huffily, and shooed Rabboo away like an annoying fly when their hands returned. “Why are you even still here? Go train!”

“Cause you just hit your head so hard, it knocked you out!” Dream replied in a snappy huff. “That’s concerning!”

“Well, obviously it’s not because I told you that it’s fine!” Tommy huffed. He planted his feet beneath himself, but as he pushed himself up, the world spun. He stumbled once, but, as Ranboo reached to steady him, Tommy knocked him away. “I’m fine!” 

His head was still reeling, of course. More so now than it had been, but, with everyone watching him like they were scared he was going to break, Tommy had no choice but to brush it off. He didn’t want to be replaced , after all. 

“Let’s just go,” he decided to say instead and that was his first mistake. Usually, he never walked away from a fight. Today, however, Tommy wasn’t sure if he could have taken another hit. He was man enough to admit when he’d had enough… sometimes. 

Ranboo stared after him for a moment as Tommy walked away, trying not to hold his head in the worst area of pain. 

That strange boy popped into his mind just briefly, but Tommy forced it down. He didn’t want to seem weak. Not here. Not now. And, not ever. 

They had a mission to prepare for. 

Chapter Text

This mansion was the biggest building Tommy had ever seen. Huge, white pillars lined the front of it, cascaded in vines that hung from the ceiling. The windows were done with wondrous techniques of architecture, the stone swirled and chiseled to truly allow the world to see how much money the owners had. Today, though, it was an auction house. 

“This should be simple enough,” Tommy said, and placed his hands on his hips. “What do you think, Ran?” 

Ranboo lifted their eyes nervously to Tommy, a sheepish and wide eyed look passed, before they nodded uncomfortably. “I don’t like the suit…” they muttered. 

“Who does?” Tommy grinned and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “If it would have been up to me, I would’ve let you wear a dress! Listen, just don’t think about it, alright? We’re stealing from an auction, it shouldn’t be too long, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Ranboo muttered and uncomfortably smoothed out their dress shirt. “You should shout that louder. I don’t think the people we’re stealing from heard you yelling about us stealing from them.”

Tommy shot them a sly look. “Maybe I will.” At least their punishment would be easier than whatever Tommy would face against the agency for failure. And, perhaps, for yesterday’s fiasco. He still hadn’t even really told Tubbo about it and, for the most part, Tommy had actually been avoiding him. 

The mission was more important. 

So, the two agents headed up the stairs with the troves of people all dressed much nicer than they were. The stairs were white as well, and polished so beautifully beyond belief despite how they were stepped on all day. 

As Tommy and Ranboo reached the front, suddenly they became aware of a man standing at the entrance. This must’ve been the rich version of a bouncer, judging by the suit and tie he was also wearing. 

As the man noticed them coming, he stood up straighter with his clipboard, lifting his chin into the air. “Name?”

“Richard Clark and Isaac Featherton?” Ranboo recited instantly, as if it had been engraved into their brain. It must’ve been the cover story thought up by Tubbo, though Tommy had never really listened to his debriefing calls. His head was pounding far too much now anyways. 

The man’s head trailed down, scanning the list closely. Up and down his head went, as of triple-checking, before he looked back up at the two. 

“You’re not on the list. Did you register?” 

“Are you kidding?” Tommy asked, and slung an arm around Ranboo’s shoulders to pull them in. He leaned in close to the bouncer, pulling the most serious face he could muster. “We’re richer than everyone here! Of course we registered!”

The truth is that he had no idea if they had. Usually, that kind of stuff was left to Tubbo or the agency. Would they intentionally do this? The agency, maybe, but Tubbo never. 

“Uh-huh,” the man muttered and glared at the two over thick sunglasses. It was odd enough that he was wearing them, seeing as it was nighttime, but Tommy figured questioning wouldn’t help. 

“Let me get this straight?” Tommy continued. “You’re turning away paying customers just because they’re not on your list?”

“That would be correct.”

“And, you don’t take walk-ins?” Ranboo prompted. “Even though we have money?”

Of course, that was a lie. Tommy’s pockets were as empty as always. Perhaps he could have traded a candy wrapper, though. 

“Sorry, boys,” the bouncer said and lifted a hand to Tommy to further emphasize his point. “The boss has us on lockdown tonight. You’ll have to come to the next auction.”

Tommy and Ranboo exchanged a look, recognizing exactly what that meant. Though, as to not draw more attention to them, Tommy groaned in frustration, the plan already in motion. 

“Come on,” He whined, pulling out his best impression of a pretentious rich boy. He grabbed the bouncer’s arm, hanging off of it like an upset toddler. “Please?” 

“No.”

Ranboo reached forwards and grabbed Tommy’s arm, tugging him back slightly, as the two had discussed silently.  “Come on, Isaac,” he said. “It’s fine. We’ll find another better club.”

Tommy jerked his arm out of his friend’s grip, but eventually stalked back a pace and threw up his hands. “Fine!” He shouted and moved to stomp away. “My father will hear about this! You won’t hear the last of Monsignor Isaac Featherington!” 

“Featherton—!”

“Featherton!” Tommy echoed. “Isaac Featherton!” 

The man rolled his eyes, Tommy saw as such, and step one of his plan was already complete: annoy the bouncer. 

Ranboo and Tommy headed off back down the gravel driveway of the estate after that, passing by pretentiously dressed fancy people who probably grew money wherever they walked. Tommy checked, of course, but nothing net his eye. Bummer. 

“My father will hear about this?” Ranboo parroted questioningly to Tommy as soon as the two were out of earshot. “Was that a Harry Potter reference?” 

Tommy shrugged innocently. “I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“And, now, you look like Draco Malfoy,” Ranboo replied snarkily. 

“Shut up,” Tommy scoffed. “How have you even seen that movie?”

“I saw them on a mission… many missions.” Ranboo said. “How did you?” 

Tommy blinked, and opened his mouth to snap back, but suddenly faltered. He… didn’t know. Had Tubbo shown them? How had he known about those movies when there was no way he could’ve seen them within the agency? “Uh…” he faltered. “I don’t… remember.” 

Though, he recalled the premise of each movie, as if it had been engraved into his brain. Every single funny little thing that Harry Potter did he somehow knew, and it couldn’t have been made up. He knew they weren’t made up. Those signature glasses popped into his mind instantly, and it brought with it a sense of warmth. 

“So, you heard that, right?” He asked Ranboo as they joined him behind a nearby tree. “Why would they suddenly have this place on lockdown?”

“You think it’s a leak?” 

“Well, I’d assume so,” Ranboo murmured and glanced back. “Security usually isn’t this tight in places like these.”

“Really?” Tommy replied sarcastically, yet in such disbelief. “Security’s not tight where they sell millions of dollars worth of merchandise?”

Ranboo shook their head seriously. “Not tight enough that they won’t let two young people in who we’re supposed to be on the list. Speaking of which, why weren’t we?”

“Obviously because we have to do everything ourselves,” Tommy grumbled. “Fucking idiots. Of course they didn’t put us in. Oh, it’ll be an added challenge!” He scoffed. “I hate this place.”

“Do you think Tubbo forgot?”

“He’s probably fucking with us,” Tommy said and lifted a fist to the air. “Curses!” 

Ranboo snorted a chuckle, then nodded their head back towards the side of the house. “The windows don’t have screens or bars from the second floor up. I think we could probably find an easy way in.”

“Easy, my ass,” Tommy grumbled, and waved his hands in the air mockingly. “Oh, sure, we’ll make sure the agents we sent on a mission get in alright! This is stupid as hell.”

“Yep,” Ranboo grinned, and popped the end of their sentence with the ‘P’ sound. “So, let’s get into it before we pay for it.” 

Chapter Text

That was how Tommy and Ranboo ended up on the side of the house, using their combined heights to try and slip in through the closest window to the ground. The balcony had been open, practically welcoming them in, but it had to be the best added challenge they were going to get. 

“This has got to be your stupidest idea yet.”

“Just shut up and keep pushing,” Tommy growled and, as Ranboo’s arms lifted him higher, he extended his hands for the sill. “Almost…” 

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep track of things.”

“Yeah, well,” Tommy grunted. “It’s not my fault we weren’t on the list! You think that would’ve been covered better than benefits!”

“What benefits?”

Ranboo hoisted Tommy up suddenly and, within a heartbeat, Tommy’s fingertips were able to latch on the sill of the balcony window. 

He grabbed on like his life depended on it and, despite how he’d almost flunked that climbing class, he began to scoot up it uncomfortably. 

“You… you’re doing it wrong!”

“You don’t say,” Tommy huffed back down to the ground, and planted his shoe on the brick wall for a quick rest to glare down at Ranboo. “You don’t fucking say.”

“You need to… no… just… ” Ranboo winced as Tommy’s leg lifted. “No…”

“Then what?” Tommy snapped. “If I fall from here, I swear I will angle my fall so I land on you!”

“Calm down, calm down… just… uh… put one of your legs on the sill and use it to boost you.”

“That’s a terrible technique!”

“It’s not a technique,” Ranboo replied snappily. “That’s how Tubbo gets onto high places to scope.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Tommy huffed. “A Tubbo Method.”

At the very least, most of the time ‘Tubbo Methods’ seemed to work wonders. The boy wasn’t properly trained like spies were, only perhaps in the basics, so his movements had always been a little awkward. He also tended to think outside of the box, so his methods worked well for explaining menial tasks. 

Nonetheless, Tommy obliged, the most he could do in the situation he was presented with. Ranboo boosted him just a bit higher, and he grabbed onto the sill with all of his night and pulled his leg up next to it. 

Ranboo’s grip left him, and Tommy rolled into the window, trying not to think about the ground below him as his chest heaved for nervous breath. 

“This is brilliant,” he muttered aloud as he dragged his other leg onto the ledge and attempted to push himself onto his knees. 

The window before him was barred, metal pokers jabbing through the stone above and blow the frame. It only really made Tommy’s job harder, but it was certainly something that he could have handled. 

“Well?” Ranboo called up. “Can you fit?”

“Of course,” Tommy replied snappily, and fished the world’s smallest laser cutter out of his pocket. He never really used it, but he supposed it had actually come in handy this time. “Don’t think you can, though!”

“Just… let me in through the emergency exit!” Ranboo said. “That sound good?”

“Brilliant,” Tommy muttered and switched the laser on. The red line shot out from the top of the pen-like device, and instantly the metal of the spire keeping Tommy out began to smoke. 

He turned away to cough into his elbow as a cloud of smoke floated up to hit him in the face and, below him, Ranboo fawned with worry. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m working,” Tommy snapped to them, and instantly, they fell quiet. Still, he kept his sleeve over his eye as the laser cut through the first spire and, once it snapped with just a simple pull like a loose tooth, he moved to the next one. 

It was obvious that their way in would be discovered, but Tommy figured he didn’t need to worry about such things. The agency, as much of pricks as they were, were fantastic at covering things up; especially the methods of their agents. 

Still, the smoke was blasting in his face, trialing up his nostrils, and the tendrils seemed to wrap around his brain and tug it. One moment, Tommy was cutting glass. The very next, the world flashed in color and, suddenly, he found himself sitting in a chair. 

Tommy blinked just once but, as he fought to move, he found himself frozen in place. His eyes were directed forwards and, though he couldn’t move them either, Tommy saw what his gaze was fixated on. A marshmallow over a small campfire. 

The thought drifted to him slowly. He liked marshmallows, especially when they were cooked. He loved the taste, the texture of the crunch, the flavor. Everything about it just warmed his heart. 

In the distance, Tommy could hear voices. They were hushed, whispering, as if trying not to let him hear. But, he heard it anyway. 

“What am I supposed to tell him?” Whispered the first. It sounded like a teenage boy, and his tone was frantic, panicked. “He won’t understand!”

“Maybe he will,” replied a second, gentler voice. Feminine. “He’s not stupid, you know?”

“I can’t just tell him that they can never see each other again.” The first whined. “He’s going to think I’m a monster!”

The second voice scoffed. “Are you kidding? You raised him more than Phil did! If anything, he should be biased—!”

Tommy startled back to reality with a jolt, sucking in a huge breath as his eyes fought to adjust to the ceiling of a mansion. Judging by the shattered glass circle on the carpet, he must’ve fallen inside without first taking the chunk out of place. He didn’t even remember that part, though. 

Tommy blinked, shook his head to try and rid it of the cobwebs, but to no avail. His brain was doing somersaults in his head, nearly slamming against his skull with what could have only been described as the world’s worst headache. He groaned, cursing quietly, and winced as he fought to right himself. 

The mission slammed back into his head like someone had pulled the lever on a casino machine. Panic filled his senses as he recognized two things. One: his name being called from outside the window. And, two: the footsteps currently heading towards the door.