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Tommy's world had changed drastically in just a few hours, yet it feels like he hasn’t. He has lived with his family for a week now and that week everything around him is constantly shifting, spinning, and transforming. It feels as if he is caught in the eye of a tornado, forced to watch as everything around him is ripped from the ground and thrown around.
Yet he is still the same. No matter what he does he can’t change. He can’t adapt. Not fit for this world. He is a dying species, waiting for nature to take him out. Everything he does seems to be wrong.
When he doesn’t join in the conversation, Phil looks at him with a pity glance. When he awkwardly stands in the door frame waiting for permission to enter the living room, Wilbur sends him a worried look. When he waits for the others to serve themselves before he is served and waits for them to start eating before he does, Techno sends the others a puzzled glance.
Tommy heard them talking about him late one night. He was sneaking down for a glass of water when he heard Techno's voice. “There's something wrong with him. He doesn’t speak unless spoken to. Doesn’t eat until we have. He floats around the house like a ghost never leaving a trace. It's not normal for a sixteen-year-old to do that!” Techno whisper-hisses. Tommy can feel his body freeze, his breath slows as if trying to be as undetectable as possible, it is what he has been taught all his life. It's what was necessary for a spy.
“You just have to give it some time, Tech, he is still adjusting. This stuff takes time.” Phil comforts Techno with soft-spoken words. But they were anything but comforting to Tommy. He has had time, he has been here for a week. If he messed up this many times a week in the compound he doesn’t even know what the punishment would be, but he knows it wouldn’t be good.
On top of all that, he can not help his family with their nightly duties of protecting the city. His wing lays limp and useless from the brake, making it burn as he stretches them, he thinks he might just die if he tries to fly. In the week he has been here he has only been successful in causing more problems.
But that all ends today. Today he will prove his worth. He will prove his place. Prove that he can adapt. Prove that he is needed. And if all goes well, that he is wanted.
He starts out slow. If he helps out in the bakery early in the morning his family would get to sleep in. They wouldn’t have to worry about the cakes, muffins, and bread that is cooking. Won’t have to shoo out Wilbur in fear of the house catching fire. It's small, but at the moment it's all he can do.
So he spends the whole day watching Phil and Techno dance around each other as they bake. It seems simple enough. Eggs, flour, sugar, mix, cool, bake. None of the things they make seem hard, they just take time.
So the next morning Tommy is up before the stars have left the sky. He sneaks down the stairs of the loft easily. The bakery is just below their home, making it nearly too simple to sneak down. And how Tommy hates it. He hates having to get out of his warm bed. Hates having to leave the room that was left specifically for him. Hates that the walls are painted his favorite color, and how the shelves are filled with old toys that never wore out as much as they were supposed to.
But he has to. If he doesn’t he would have to leave the room that was frozen in time. If he didn’t prove his worth, then he wouldn’t get the nice things that come with this life. So he enters the cold dark bakery, quickly getting to work on the sweets that would need to be ready in a few hours.
He copies his family to a t. Flour, eggs, sugar, vanilla, mix. Flour, yeast, vinegar, salt, let it rise. He does everything he is supposed to. Placing the batter and dough in the oven as he goes about making everything else. He even makes three extra cupcakes taking special care to make them each his family's favorite flavor. He sets them to the side, hidden from view as he bakes. He doesn’t notice the smell, doesn’t notice the smoky air until it's too late.
An alarm blares about him, making Tommy flinch. He watches in slow motion as the bowl he is mixing hits the floor, spreading flour all across the kitchen. He can only watch in muted horror as his family comes stampeding down the stairs.
He doesn’t understand what is happening, are they under attack? Is that what the alarm is for? He feels lost as they open a window, moving around him quicker than he can process. The oven is opened, revealing a small fire on the bread he worked so hard to perfect. The bread is black and ugly, nothing like the beautiful crisp golden it was supposed to be.
Techno puts out the fire quickly, allowing all the attention to shift to Tommy. All Tommy wants to do at that moment is shrink. To sink into the floor and never return. He was supposed to be making his family's lives easier, but all he has success in is making it worse.
“Tommy, what are you doing?” Phil asks, his voice is soft but Tommy can hear the disbelief and disappointment in it as he glances around the mess that is his kitchen. The worst part is Tommy doesn’t know how to answer. He can’t tell the truth, because a good soldier is one that does what he is supposed to without the others knowing. Without praise or acknowledgment. And he has failed his mission, so all he can do is look at the floor and give a small shrug.
Phil gives out a small sigh, and Tommy’s stomach drops. “If you want to use the oven one of us needs to be around,” Phil says before he pauses. “Scratch that Techno or I have to be around, Wilbur will probably help you burn down the kitchen.” It's supposed to be a joke, and to the other three, it is. But to Tommy, it only proves how badly he has failed.
“I can help clean up.” Tommy’s voice comes out as a soft whisper. His face is still aimed towards the floor, refusing to meet his father’s eyes.
“No mate, why don’t you just head back to bed? I think it's for the best if we keep the destruction to a minimum today.” Phil smiles as he speaks. All Tommy wants to do is cry. But he doesn’t, instead, he nods dejectedly leaving the room. The three perfect cupcakes were left forgotten about behind the bread box.
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Next, he decides to be useful in a way that can’t go wrong. He’ll clean the house, top to bottom. He can clean fine, and it's impossible to make a mess if you are cleaning. So again, he wakes up early again. By the time the others are awake, the house and bakery are spotless. The counters shine and the floors are buffed. The trash that littered the corners is gone and the crumbs that hide under the bakery tables in hard-to-reach spots have vanished.
Tommy goes back to bed, happy he finally did something.
The only issue is he doesn’t even fall asleep before Wilbur is screaming. Quickly he sprints down the stairs, skidding into the living room where Wilbur stands yelling at the others.
“I put them right there! Where did they go?” Wilbur’s eyes are welling up, and Tommy doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what's missing, doesn’t know how it went missing.
“Calm down Wilbur, I’m sure we can find it. Just for now take a deep breath, it's probably just been misplaced, everyone knows not to touch your songs.” Techno tells his brother. Tommy can feel his breath stop. He didn’t know that. He didn’t even know Wilbur wrote music.
“No, I didn’t! I left it right here! I know I did. Did you hire a cleaner or something yesterday, because that's the only way to explain this!” Wilbur shouts, he throws his arms around vaguely gesturing to the room around them. Tommy felt his stomach hit the floor, this was his fault all over again.
“No I have no idea who cleaned the house, but worse comes to worse we will still find your songs, we might just have to dig through the trash a little.” Phil levels with him. Tommy has to fess up, but he isn’t even sure if his mouth will work. He is choking down distressed chirps. Praying for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy whispers, his voice is small and broken. But somehow his quiet works make the other's heads snap toward him. “I was just trying to clean, I didn’t realize they were anything important.”
This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Wilbur’s voice turned from desperate to fuming. “Of course they were fucken important!” Wilbur howls. “Thats my fucking life you threw away, like it was nothing!” He screams, taking a horrifying step towards him. Tommy can’t stop the small fearful peep that leaves his mouth, forcing Phil to help him. He feels horrible for using Phil's instincts against him. He really didn’t mean to. But still, Phil jumps between them at the noise.
“Wilbur he didn’t know. We will get it from the trash, it's going to be fine.” Phil mediates. A poison crept into Tommy's mind, forcing him to wonder if Phil would have stopped Wilbur if he hadn’t chirped. If he had stayed silent like he was supposed to.
They did find the papers, and Wilbur did apologize, but would he have if Phil didn’t step in? Maybe he understood that at this rate Tommy was temporary. He would just need to try harder to be useful. He needed to do something bold, something they would have to notice. Sadly he had just the idea.
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It took him a week to prepare, a week of floating, of nervous energy and fear at every small movement, but he survived. And now at the end of it, he has a homemade superhero costume. The thread work is rusty and fraying but it will do what it needs to.
Now at nightfall, he will prove to his family that he is useful.
It was criminally easy to sneak out after them. He knows their route so he makes an effort to avoid it. His broken wing still aches but he needs to do this. The bone is healed, for the most part, just a small hairline fracture left. He can do this.
He jumps from rooftop to rooftop, listening for any sign of crime. It comes in the form of a window breaking. He is quick to shoot across the street. Staring at a jewelry shop, two men are entering through the large window that is now shattered.
He swoops in right behind them, blocking their exit. “I’m not sure if this place is open right now,” Tommy speaks, and he tries to keep his voice as calm and certain as possible, even using a stupid line to appear larger than life. Sadly his line fails.
“What the fuck are you supposed to be kid? Get out of here before you get hurt.” The man replies. The assurance in his voice is enough to make Tommy a little nervous, but he fights through it, he is a trained assassin after all a few low-life crooks are no match for him.
“I don’t know if that's true. In fact, I might say the opposite, and I think the police would agree.” Tommy holds up the phone to show the police dialed. That gains him a little bit of respect as the criminals seem to be sweating now.
“Get the fuck out of here kid before things get nasty.” The other man pulls a gun from his waist, aiming it at the floor near Tommy. That's all he needs to strike, throwing himself toward the men, hitting the gun from his hands. It was pitifully easy to disarm the man. He then aimed a kick to the back of his head. The man was out the second his head hit the floor.
The one thing Tommy didn’t anticipate was the second robber running away, and running fast. He was two blocks down by the time Tommy tied up the first guy, forcing him to sprint as hard as possible to not lose him. His wing ached at the sudden gain in speed, but he ignored it. Racing down the dark alleys and dim streets. Tommy had almost reached him when he paused. Slowing a pace as he realized where he was.
This was his final mistake.
It's not even a second after he realizes where he is when The Angel of Death drops down right in front of him. Because of course the man ran straight into SBI’s territory. Now his chances of being useful have dwindled horribly low.
Fear strikes him when The Blood God drops in front of him, cutting off his exit. “Who are you?” His voice is accusing and full of malice. Only then does Tommy realize what this looks like. What they have seen is one man chasing another, both masked. It can’t look good on Tommy's part, especially because they don’t know it's Tommy.
“Fuck,” Tommy whispers, and thats all Techno needs. His eyes widen in shock as he stares at Tommy.
“Kid what the fuck are you doing here!” He exclaims, and Tommy doesn’t know how to answer. So it sits there, his mouth gaping as he stares at the man who is supposed to be his older brother, but now Tommy isn’t sure. Will this be his final mistake? Is this all it took for them to realize how useless he really is?
“I just wanted to help.” Tommy hates the way his voice breaks. Hates that it makes Wilbur and Phil's heads perk up as they recognize who is here.
“Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice is full of confusion, as he handcuffs the man's hands behind his back. Tommy doesn’t respond, dipping his head towards the floor as he refuses to look at his family.
Phil is quick to pull him away, checking over him for injuries. “Why are you here? By yourself, what were you thinking? You are nowhere near old enough to be doing this yet.” Phil mutters to himself. And Tommy snaps. He was just trying to be useful. Why can no one see that? Why do all his efforts go to waste?
“I am a trained assassin, I should be able to catch two lousy criminals by myself,” Tommy argues. He isn’t sure if he is trying to prove something to his family or to himself.
“I know that.” Phil says with a soft sigh. Tommy tenses at the noise, he shouldn’t have said anything. “But I need you to know you don’t have to do these things by yourself. That you shouldn’t.” Phil starts again. Tommy opens his mouth to argue but Techno cuts him off.
“We should go home. Now.” He leaves no room for argument. They leave the criminal on the side of the road, attached to a pole for the police to find.
The walk home is brisk and quiet. Tommy feels like if he makes one wrong move everything will fall apart. His heart is beating out his chest and yet he keeps a calm face, praying that everything will be fine.
Wilbur marches him straight to the living room, sitting him down on the couch as Phil and Techno move around the kitchen. It isn’t long before a hot chocolate is placed in his hands and a blueberry muffin is set to the side. With the covered Phil and Techno take a seat next to Wilbur and Tommy can feel his stomach twist.
“Tommy, we need you to tell us what's wrong.” Phil’s voice is soft, as if he is not about to seal Tommy's fate. As if he isn’t going to make Tommy leave. The worst part is he really doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay and sit in the corner booth as Wilbur works, talking to him whenever there is a stall in customers. He wants to stay and go to every Sunday morning farmers market with Phil. He wants to stay and read with Techno late into the night. But none of that is possible now because he fucked up.
“I want to know when I have to go.” Tommy can barely hear himself, but Wilbur hears him just fine. A shocked look on his face as he stares at Tommy.
“What are you talking about?” Wilbur asks.
“When should I leave,” Tommy asks again trying to gain control of his emotions. “I haven’t been useful so when should I leave?” Tommy can barely react as he is scooped up into Phil's arms, his dad's hold is tight like he is scared he will slip away.
“You won’t leave. We want you here, we want you to stay. You don’t have to be useful to have a place in this family mate, it is our job to love you no matter what. It doesn’t matter who you are or what you do, you will still have a place here and we will still love you.” Phil’s voice never wavers as he speaks. Holding Tommy close as if he is a child. It is fitting because Tommy has never felt more like a child than in this moment.
“Do you believe us?” Techno asks, placing a hand on his uninjured wing.
“I can try,” Tommy whispers out, his voice thick with unshed tears.
“That is all we can ask.” Wilbur answers, ruffling his hair with a sad smile.
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Tommy had started sleeping in later. Not afraid to be caught in bed after seven am. He started doing things he wanted to do, not things he thought his family would want. His chest tightened the first few times he asked to go see the cows that were a few minutes away by car. But now it has come to be second nature, maybe third.
But still, he is getting better, the issue is he still wants to help. Not so he can stay anymore, just so he can help. His family has yet to realize that. Constantly distracting him when he starts to bake, shooing him away when he brings a customer their food.
So he goes to Techno, hoping that at least he could be reasoned with. Wilbur and Phil were motherhens about it, Techno sat back most of the time. He was chiller than the others, and that is what Tommy was betting on.
“Tech!” Tommy yells out, startling the hero. He turns around to glare at Tommy, flour, eggs, and sugar are sitting on the counter, telling Tommy he had come at the perfect time.
“What do you want runt?” Techno levels, giving him an unimpressed look.
“You are going to teach me how to cook.” Tommy tells him with a smile.
“Oh, and why would I do that?” Techno asks. Tommy crosses his arms over his chest.
“Because it would make you the best brother and you would get bragging rights over Wilbur.” Tommy has rehearsed this line, it is his only selling point, and Techno takes it hook and sinker. His eyes widen just a bit as a small smile falls over his face.
“Alright then come on.”
They bake, and bake, and bake some more. By the time they are done flour coats just about everything. Tommy isn’t sure if he will ever be able to wash the flour out of his hair. But now the kitchen is restocked and Tommy is happy.
That happiness fades just a bit when Phil and Wilbur walk in. Frowning the moment they see Tommy.
“Toms, what are you doing?” Wilbur asks, walking towards him quickly.
“Baking with Techno, what does it look like?” Tommy says scrunching up his face. Wilbur is quick to try and ruffle the flour out of his hair, creating a puff of powder to fly out.
“What were you baking that gets flour in your hair?” Phil asks with a small smile.
Tommy schools his face, staring right into Phil's eyes. “Bitches” He answers as seriously as he can. Phil and Wilbur laugh for a moment before Phil's face turns serious again.
“You know you don’t have to help.” He tells Tommy. Tommy nods.
“But I want to!” He insists, making his family smile.
“Then that's all that matters.” Techno says. Tommy is happy with his family. Even if it's a harsh difference from what he had grown up with, it is a good difference.