Work Text:
Tommy hated being sick.
The headaches, the way that he couldn’t get comfortable, the runny nose.
He felt like his head was full of cotton as he went through the motions of getting ready for work.
He really did not want to go into work.
He really needed the money.
The walk to the bus stop was miserable, and one look at the sky made it clear that it was going to rain later.
Hopefully, it would wait to rain until after he was back from work.
It was times like this that he hated the fact that he lived alone.
If he had a roommate, he could’ve tried to get them to drive him to work and pick him up.
(If he had a family, maybe he wouldn’t have to work when he was sick at all. Maybe they would make sure that he stayed home, warm and taken care of.)
Tommy sighed, before wincing in pain as he sniffled, causing his sinuses to feel like he was being stabbed right in the center of his forehead.
This was not going to be fun.
\(oo)/
As he prepared the latest set of drinks, Tommy could not help but notice that it had been a very bad idea for him to come into work today.
He felt way worse.
He had progressed from sniffling to sneezing, each sneeze making his brain rattle in a very unpleasant way.
On top of that, his headache had worsened, and was shaping up to become a migraine at this rate.
He really was not looking forward to the fact that he had four more hours on his shift.
As he handed the drinks off to one of his coworkers (Tommy was not allowed to work the counter anymore, after a few too many complaints) he noticed something.
The drinks he was holding, two black coffees and one caramel mocha, didn’t even feel warm to him.
Which meant he probably had a fever.
Great.
“Two chai lattes, regular milk!” his coworker called out, and Tommy was pulled back into his job.
He just had to make it through the next four hours.
\(oo)/
‘Well,’ Tommy thought as he looked down at his hands ‘that’s probably not good.’
He couldn’t feel his hands.
Well, he could, but it felt like they were moving on autopilot, without his conscious input.
Which was very concerning, honestly.
He idly wondered just how high his fever was, if he was having, whatever this was, happening.
He slowly glanced over to the clock.
‘2:13’
He just had to make it through the next hour and 37? No wait, it was 47. The next hour and 47 minutes.
He could make it.
Right?
He could at least make it through the rest of the shift.
(But what would he do after his shift?)
(He was pretty sure he needed a doctor, or at the very least some cold medicine and someone to take care of him.)
(And Gods, did he want someone to take care of him.)
(But there was no one who could.)
(And he didn’t have the money for a doctor.)
(Or cold medicine.)
He looked at the clock again, seeing that it had barely moved.
He didn’t like the way his brain was either running too fast or too slow, alternating as his fever spiked and fell.
He wasn’t entirely sure that he only had a cold, at this point.
And even if it was, it was a very bad one.
His coworkers hadn’t noticed, since the weird autopilot thing with his hands was making it seem like he was fine.
He wasn’t all that sure any of them would care even if they noticed.
None of them were all that fond of him, after the number of lectures he had caused their manager to give the whole group.
(Mostly about what was an ‘acceptable way to treat our loyal customers’.)
(Again, Tommy had caused a lot of complaints, before he was banned from working the counter.)
He glanced at the clock again.
Just an hour and 45 minutes.
He could do this.
He took a step, and almost fell over with the wave of vertigo that hit him, his headache spiking.
Okay.
He could hopefully do this.
\(oo)/
Tommy stumbled out of the café’s back door, the last of his coworkers to leave.
The others had been much quicker with packing up and leaving.
Probably because they weren’t currently sick with a high fever.
(Tommy wasn’t sure how high, but the degree of fuzziness to his thoughts suggested it was pretty high.)
He slowly began the walk to the bus stop.
And then it started to rain.
Great.
Just great.
The rain soaked through his thin hoodie quickly, causing the cold wetness to sink into his clothes and bones.
This was not going to help with his cold.
He shivered as he continued his walk to the bus stop, feeling the water squelch inside his shoes.
It was starting to get dark.
(It shouldn’t be doing that, his shift ended at four and it wasn’t winter yet, it shouldn’t start getting dark until at least seven-)
He walked slowly past the different stores as he trudged along the road.
He hated how far away the café was from the nearest bus stop.
But they were the only ones who would hire him, without any experience.
(And with the fact that he didn’t have any documents, or an ID.)
(At least the café was willing to pay him in cash.)
(He was pretty sure it was a money laundering scheme, but he really needed the money.)
(And it wasn’t like the cops had come after him for using what was probably stolen money yet.)
He finally reached the bus stop.
There was no one there.
It was dark.
He twisted to look at the clock that the little corner store nearby always had hung in their window.
‘8:38’
Fuck.
How had it gotten so late?
He’d left at his normal time.
Hadn’t he?
He wasn’t sure, his thoughts fuzzy.
His coworkers had left.
And then-
There was a blank, between when they left and him stumbling out of the building.
His head swam, the fever muddying his thoughts and making him sway on his feet.
Okay. He didn’t know when he’d left.
And he had been walking slowly, though it hadn’t been that slowly, right?
Tommy leaned against the bus stop, a harsh sigh leaving him.
The buses never ran this late.
The last one left at 8:30.
Something about how it wasn’t safe to be out after that time. Probably crime or some shit.
He had just missed the last bus.
It was fine.
He could just… walk home.
To his apartment.
Which was on the other side of the city.
He slumped against the bus stop, sliding to the ground.
He would never make it.
Not in this state, not at this time of night.
“Hey.”
Tommy startled, a moment behind where his reactions should be, and looked up.
There was a man standing next to him.
(Where had he come from?)
He was wearing strange clothes, an old fashioned shirt.
Pink hair, down his back in a braid.
Red eyes.
“You okay, kid?”
Tommy blinked up at the stranger.
The man crouched down, looking into Tommy’s eyes.
“Are you okay?” He said slowly.
Slowly, Tommy nodded.
He was fine.
Well, he wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell some random stranger that.
The man sighed.
“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true kid.”
Tommy mustered up enough energy for a glare.
His vision was fading slightly at the corners, which was not a good sign.
“Hey. Kid.”
A hand waved in front of Tommy’s face.
The man looked concerned.
Also, he appeared to have moved.
Tommy must’ve zoned out for a second.
“Kid, seriously, where’s your parents? Or uh, friends? I don’t know how old you are.”
He looked into the man’s eyes, feeling like he could trust him.
(Tommy was almost aware that this was odd, and that this was because of his fever, but-)
(He was tired. And sick. And really just wanted to trust someone, for once.)
The man looked at him.
“Can I at least have a name?”
Tommy smiled slightly, as he felt himself begin to pass out.
“I’m Tommy.” He said, his voice fading out at the end as he was pulled into unconsciousness.
The last thing he saw was the face of the stranger, a surprised look on his face.
(And an edge of something underneath it, but Tommy was too tired to figure out what it was in the brief moment he had to look at the man’s face.)
\(oo)/
He woke up in a bed.
He opened his eyes, seeing a deep blue ceiling above him.
His apartment was painted a slightly off-white color that only ended up looking like it was constantly dirty.
He could tell that he still had a fever, his headache pressing down on him with a ferocious heat.
“Oh shit you’re awake.” A voice said from beside him.
Tommy turned his head slightly, seeing that there was someone sitting next to the bed, perched on a plush chair.
It was dim in the room, but not so dark that Tommy couldn’t make out some details of the person next to him.
It wasn’t the man from before, this one wearing a soft-looking yellow sweater and a red beanie.
He also had red eyes.
Tommy tried to mumble something out, maybe a question, but it just sounded like random sounds.
“Uh, Tech didn’t tell me what to do if you woke up…” The man mumbled to himself, before turning back to look Tommy in the eyes.
“Well, I should probably introduce myself! I’m Wilbur.”
Tommy squinted at Wilbur.
What the hell was happening?
Where was he?
He felt a wave of vertigo go over him, sending his head back down onto the pillow.
Whatever.
He could worry about it later.
‘Tech’ must’ve been the man from earlier, the one who’d found Tommy by the bus stop.
Tommy still felt like shit.
He really wanted some cold medicine.
“Let me get Dad. He’ll have something.” Wilbur said.
Had Tommy said that last thought aloud?
He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think that he had.
It’s not like it mattered.
He was gonna get some cold medicine.
And he trusted Wilbur.
Wilbur stood up, leaving the room. Tommy wasn’t all that sure where the door was, considering he was still too dizzy to lift his head from the pillow.
A few minutes-? Maybe- passed before the door opened again.
“Oh mate, you really are in bad shape.”
Tommy turned his head, the dizziness having slightly left him.
It was a new person, a man with short blonde hair and kind red eyes.
Was this Wilbur’s Dad?
It had to be, right?
Tommy sneezed, before groaning at the way it made his nose feel.
The man came closer to the bed, sitting next to Tommy.
He moved some pillows around, before propping Tommy up so that he was sitting, instead of laying down.
“Here Toms, drink this.” The man said, holding something in a small cup to Tommy’s lips.
He took a sip.
The taste was odd, sweet but almost, metallic?
Tommy shook his head.
The fever was making his sense of taste weird.
Tommy drank the rest of it, the man taking away the cup when he finished.
The man reached out, pulling Tommy into his side, which Tommy had a faint awareness was weird, but it also felt really nice.
It wasn’t like the man would harm him.
He trusted him.
The man ran his hand over Tommy’s hair, causing Tommy to practically melt into his side.
He hadn’t had anyone touch him with any measure of affection in so long.
“What are we gonna do with you, Toms?” The man asked, but Tommy didn’t think he was looking for an answer.
Tommy could feel himself drifting off to sleep, the cold medicine (had it been cold medicine?) making him drowsy.
He looked up at the man, seeing a smile on his face and a swirl of amusement and love in those dark, red eyes.
“What are we going to do with you?”
\(oo)/
Tommy drifted awake, feeling a pounding pressure in his head. He definitely still had a fever.
Ugh.
At least his nose wasn’t as runny.
He could hear voices, not in the room with him, probably outside the door.
(He still wasn’t sure wasn’t entirely sure where the door was.)
Tommy lifted his head, thankful that he wasn’t still dizzy.
In the dim light, he could see Tech talking with Wilbur’s dad.
Tommy didn’t know his name.
“-I know, but you can’t say you’re unhappy with what I did.” Wilbur’s dad said, Tommy seemingly having woken up in the middle of the conversation.
Tech sighed.
“No. I can’t. It’s- You could’ve told me.”
The other man placed a hand on Tech’s shoulder.
“Sorry, mate.”
Tommy didn’t think that he actually sounded all that sorry. But not in a mean way, just that he didn’t regret whatever it was he’d done.
“You’re not. It’s okay.” Tech said, something fond in his tone.
Wilbur’s dad smiled, before tilting his head.
“Tommy’s awake.”
How did he know that?
Tech turned to look, seeing Tommy blearily staring at him.
He smiled, just slightly, before turning back to the other man.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Oh.
The man was Tech’s dad, too. Tech and Wilbur were brothers.
(Tommy felt a flash of jealousy at that.)
(He’d never had any siblings, only his parents, who’d died when he was six.)
(And he had always wanted siblings.)
Tech’s dad smiled, before walking away.
Tech walked into the room, sitting in the same chair that Wilbur had been in when Tommy had woken up the first time.
“Feeling better, Theseus?”
Tommy looked at Tech in confusion. That wasn’t his name.
“It’s a nickname, Tommy.”
Tech had given him a nickname?
“Thanks.” Tommy said, his voice rough.
He coughed immediately after he spoke, the words catching in his throat awkwardly.
Tech picked up a cup on the nightstand, holding it to Tommy’s mouth.
Tommy took a sip cautiously, before realizing it was water.
He gulped down the water, his throat feeling better the more he drank.
Tech pulled the cup away, Tommy leaning back.
He was really tired.
He hated being sick.
“So, are you feeling better?”
Tommy held up a hand, making a seesaw motion.
“Somewhat?”
Tech nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer.
There was moment of silence, before Tommy spoke up again.
“Who were you talking to?”
His voice was still rough, the cup of water not fully getting rid of the soreness. At least he wasn’t coughing anymore.
“That was my Dad.” Tech said.
Tommy nodded “What’s his name? Cause, I don’t think-“ He coughed, apparently having spoken too soon “I don’t think he’ll want me calling him Dad.” He joked.
There was a strange look on Tech’s face, but it was gone in an instant.
“Phil.”
Phil.
Huh, that did seem like it fit him.
“Good to know.”
Tech stared at Tommy for a moment.
“You seem… calm.”
Tommy shrugged.
“Pretty sure I have a fever, big man. And you feel safe, anyway.”
He had not meant to say that last part.
His mouth was moving faster than his brain.
Tech tilted his head, a pleased curl to his mouth.
“Thank you, Theseus.”
Tommy wondered where he’d heard that nickname before.
He couldn’t remember, but he was pretty sure it was from something.
Maybe a book?
He shook his head slightly, trying to focus back on the conversation.
“It’s no big thing, Tech.” Tommy said.
“Where did you hear my name?”
Oh right. Technically, Tommy hadn’t been told that.
“Wilbur mentioned it.” Tommy explained.
Tech rolled his eyes, fondness in the motion.
“Of course he did.”
Tommy hummed, feeling his eyes starting to close.
Sleep sounded nice.
He heard Tech sigh, an amused note to it.
Tommy smiled to himself as he fell asleep.
\(oo)/
After that, Tommy was in and out of consciousness for a while, only flashes of wakefulness.
More metallic tasting medicine.
Tech sitting beside him, a fond look on his face.
Wilbur playing music.
More medicine.
Soft stories, in a voice that Tommy thought might be Tech’s.
Medicine. (Was it?)
Someone holding his hand.
A strange pain in his mouth.
A headache.
More medicine, something about it less metallic this time.
Phil, holding Tommy, a loving look on his face.
A tingle of coolness spreading through him.
Medicine. (It wasn’t, was it?)
Tech and Wil and Phil all with him, comforting him.
And that was the last thing, before he woke up for real.
\(oo)/
The next time he woke up, Tommy felt better.
His headache was gone, and his thoughts felt clearer, his fever seemingly gone. He was pretty sure that he wasn’t sick anymore.
Which gave him plenty of energy to consider the fact that he was in a very odd situation.
He was in some random stranger’s house, and the three people who lived there (Tommy assumed only the three of them lived there, anyway) had been taking care of him while he was sick.
That was not normal.
But on the other hand…
Tommy felt so safe with the three of them.
Tech had found him practically passed out on the street, and he’d brought him somewhere safe, brought to his home. He’d given Tommy a nickname.
Wilbur had been there when he woke up, and seemed to care about him, somehow. He’d played music for Tommy.
Phil, he’d been so kind. He’d…
Tommy felt himself flush, remembering how the man had let Tommy lean against him. How he’d held him.
(He felt on odd pang thinking of it, wishing that Phil would do it again, that he was here.)
The three of them had been so kind, they…
They were acting like family would.
(They felt like family.)
Tommy sat up, finally properly looking around the room he had been in this whole time.
The walls were covered with wood paneling, and there were dark red curtains drawn across the windows.
He could see bookshelves along the wall, and the door was off to the side, to the right of the bed.
It was closed, and there wasn’t anyone in the room with him.
Huh.
He didn’t think they’d left him alone the entire time he was here.
Where were they?
Tommy stood up, stumbling before catching himself on the edge of the bed.
His legs felt weak, probably due to laying down for an unknown amount of time.
How long had he been sick for, anyway?
Wait fuck his job-
He scrambled to find his phone, before realizing that he wasn’t wearing the same clothes he had been when he had left work.
Instead of his thin hoodie and jeans, he was wearing thick pajama pants and a nice t shirt.
Well, his clothes had been soaked. It made sense that one of them (something told him that it had been Phil) had gotten him something else to wear.
That didn’t solve the problem of his phone, however.
Where was it?
He glanced around, but all that was on the nightstand was an empty cup.
It smelled like the strange medicine that he’d been drinking this whole time.
(He didn’t realize how strange it was that he could smell what had been in the cup.)
(It was a few feet away from him, he shouldn’t be able to do that.)
(But he was tired, and he didn’t notice.)
He looked to the door.
Tech, Wilbur, or Phil probably had his phone.
Hopefully one of them had answered the inevitable call from his boss and explained.
Tommy really hoped that he hadn’t been fired.
Though, honestly he wasn’t sure what they could’ve said if Tommy’s boss had called.
He knew that it was in his employee file that he didn’t have any family.
He didn’t even have an emergency contact, something only tolerated because of the under the table nature of his work.
He shrugged.
Nothing he could do about it now.
(Something in him felt content, pushing his thoughts away from worrying.)
(Everything was fine.)
He padded over to the door, pushing it open.
There was a hallway, dark wood paneling just like in the room he had been in, doors leading off it at various points.
He could hear people talking, their voices echoing through the house.
It sounded like they were coming from wherever the hall led to.
He slowly walked down the hallway, glancing into any open doors as he did.
There were only two.
One led into another bedroom, a guitar leaning against the bed. Maybe Wilbur’s room? Tommy remembered Wilbur playing a guitar to him, while he had been awake for a little bit.
The other opened up into a small office, a computer on a large desk in the center of the room.
Tommy was slightly tempted to go look at what day it was, but well.
He wanted to figure out where Phil, Wilbur, and Tech were more than he wanted to know what day it was.
(Something about that felt odd, but he didn’t care.)
At the end of the hallway, there were stairs leading down, voices floating up from the lower floor.
Tommy could just about make out some of what they were saying.
“He’ll wake up soon, Wil.” Phil said, exasperation in his voice.
“But Dad, I didn’t sleep this long!” Wilbur whined.
“You did.” “You did.” Two voices said in unison.
Tommy made it down the stairs.
He glanced around, seeing that there was another open door, leading into a living room.
He walked over, peeking inside.
Wilbur was up and pacing, seemingly impatient for something.
Tech was curled up in an armchair, half his attention on a book in his lap, the other half turned to his brother.
Phil was sitting on the couch, a look of fond exasperation on his face.
Wilbur turned to pout at his dad and brother, before his eyes caught on Tommy hovering in the doorframe.
He beamed, moving over to Tommy to sweep him into a hug.
“Oh sunshine, it’s great to see you up!”
Tommy melted into the hug, though he wasn’t exactly sure why Wilbur was so happy to see him.
It didn’t really matter.
Tommy was happy to see him, too.
Tech had looked up from his book at his brother’s words, smiling slightly when he saw Tommy.
“Theseus.” He said fondly.
Phil was looking at Tommy with love “Come here, mate.”
Wilbur tightened his arms around Tommy, seemingly in an attempt to keep him from leaving.
“Wil, let me go!” Tommy said, squirming in Wilbur’s hold.
(Why did this feel so natural? Interacting with Wilbur, with Tech and Phil. He hadn’t met these people before, a few days ago? Tommy still wasn’t sure how long it had been.)
“Fine, fine.” Wilbur said, rolling his eyes.
He squeezed Tommy one more time, before releasing him.
Tommy smiled at Wilbur, before turning to run over to Phil.
He sat down next to Phil, who pulled Tommy to his side.
“I’m sure you have questions, Toms.”
Tommy shrugged.
“A few, but I mean, I don’t really care.”
Phil looked at him fondly.
“Oh?”
“You guys feel safe. And like family. And I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be freaked out by that, but I’m not. So, I don’t really care about getting answers. I like having a family.”
He suddenly looked down, shy.
“I mean, if you guys feel the same. I shouldn’t have assumed-“
Phil tapped the top of Tommy’s head, stopping him.
“Don’t worry Toms, we do. You’re family. Coven.”
Tommy relaxed, before realizing exactly what Phil had said.
He glanced up at Phil, a furrow in his brow.
“Coven? What are you, vampires?”
He said it as a joke.
Phil just nodded.
“Oh.”
Wilbur sat down on the other side of Tommy, leaning against him.
“So are you, sunshine.” He said.
“What?” He asked sharply, something bubbling to the surface. Perhaps it was the part of him that actually understood that this whole situation was not normal.
Phil sighed, bringing Tommy’s attention back to him.
“That wasn’t cold medicine. It was my blood.”
And that was how you became a vampire, wasn’t it? In some stories, at least.
Tommy waited to feel anything negative, disgust or betrayal.
But all he really felt was warmth.
“You like me enough to want to keep me forever?” He said, fragile hope in his voice.
Phil smiled, love shining through.
“Oh of course I do, Tommy. I loved you since the moment Tech brought you home.”
Tommy smiled.
“I love you too.”
And he did.
(He knew, somehow, that it was because Phil was his sire.)
(But Tommy didn’t care.)
(He had a family. A Coven.)
“I know.” Phil said, fondness in his voice.
Tommy saw Wilbur pout out of the corner of his eye.
“Tech, Dad’s hogging our brother!”
Tech snorted, before setting down his book and walking over to them.
He shoved Phil away from Tommy, gently. Phil let him, a soft smile on his face.
Tech sat down where Phil had been.
“There, that good?” He asked, looking over Tommy’s head at his brother.
Their brother.
Tommy had brothers!
He glanced at Phil.
And a Dad.
Wilbur beamed, wrapping his arms around Tommy.
“Amazing, thanks Tech.”
Tech rolled his eyes, but wrapped his arms around the two of them.
Wilbur hummed lightly, before reaching out to grab their dad.
“I thought you said I was hogging Tommy?” He said with a laugh as Wilbur dragged him into the hug. He settled his arms around Tommy and Tech, a hand on Wilbur’s neck.
“Yeah, cause you were. Now quiet, I want cuddles.” Wilbur said.
Phil laughed, but didn’t speak again.
Sitting there, surrounded by his coven, Tommy felt safe.
(He barely remembered that he didn’t know what day it was, or what had happened to him, exactly.)
(He didn’t care.)
He wouldn’t be alone again.
He had a family.