Chapter Text
Tom Sawyer and Y/N's relationship was one of those relationships that confused nearly everyone who saw it.
On the surface, Y/N seemed perpetually annoyed by him.
Every time Tom came running through the front gate, usually with Huck beside him and Henri trailing after them, Y/N would immediately narrow her eyes.
"Tom Sawyer."
Tom would freeze.
"Uh oh."
"What did you do?"
"I ain't done nothin'!"
"That is never a reassuring answer."
Y/N had learned very quickly that whenever Tom Sawyer was involved, chaos followed close behind.
There was the time he convinced Henri that mud was "nature's ice cream."
The time he and Huck attempted to build a homemade zipline from the treehouse.
The time he filled dozens of plastic Easter eggs with confetti and hid them throughout the house in the middle of July.
And nobody—not even Tom—could explain why there had once been a live chicken in the upstairs bathroom.
Y/N had simply walked into the kitchen, looked at Tom, and asked:
"Why?"
Tom had looked genuinely thoughtful.
"Honestly, ma'am, I'm still trying to figure that out myself."
Huck had nearly fallen out of his chair laughing.
So yes.
Y/N spent a great deal of time sighing whenever Tom appeared.
But beneath all the exasperation was something else.
Affection.
Because unlike many adults, she understood Tom.
Tom was clever.
Creative.
Adventurous.
And underneath all the confidence and schemes was still a boy who wanted approval more than he would ever admit.
She saw it every time Aunt Polly scolded him.
Every time Sid tattled on him.
Every time another adult dismissed him as a troublemaker.
One afternoon she found him sitting alone beneath the big tree in the yard.
That alone was unusual.
Tom Sawyer sitting quietly was about as common as snow in July.
She sat beside him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothin'."
"Tom."
He stared at the grass.
Finally he muttered:
"Aunt Polly says I'm gonna end up in jail one day."
Y/N sighed.
"Did you deserve the lecture?"
"Maybe."
"What did you do?"
Tom kicked a pebble.
"There may have been fireworks."
"Tom."
"And a canoe."
"Tom."
"And maybe the fireworks were in the canoe."
Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Of course they were."
Tom actually smiled a little.
Then his smile faded.
"But she always thinks I'm bad."
Y/N's expression softened.
"No."
Tom glanced at her.
"No?"
"No. She thinks you're frustrating."
"That's not much better."
"It is when you're raising someone."
Tom frowned.
Y/N leaned back against the tree.
"Tom, people don't spend that much energy worrying about someone they don't love."
The boy grew quiet.
"Really?"
"Really."
Tom didn't answer right away.
But she noticed his shoulders relax.
Her role in Tom's life gradually became something between an aunt, a mentor, and a safe harbor.
When Sid's constant tattling got under his skin, he came to her.
When he argued with Aunt Polly, he came to her.
When Mary accidentally made him feel overshadowed with her perfect behavior, he came to her.
Not because she always agreed with him.
Usually she didn't.
"Tom."
"What?"
"You can't paint someone's dog blue."
"I was conducting science."
"That wasn't science."
"Art then."
"No."
But she listened.
And that mattered.
One evening she found Tom sitting on the porch after an argument with Aunt Polly.
Huck was inside helping Henri with a puzzle.
Y/N sat beside him.
"You know she loves you."
"I know."
"Then what's wrong?"
Tom shrugged.
"Sometimes I wish I was more like Mary."
Y/N blinked.
That surprised her.
"Mary?"
"She's good."
Tom stared down at his hands.
"Everybody likes Mary."
The conversation tugged at Y/N's heart more than she expected.
She knew what it felt like to compare yourself to someone else.
To think that if you were just a little quieter, a little smarter, a little easier to handle, people would love you more.
But that wasn't how love worked.
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she said:
"Tom."
"Yeah?"
"If everyone was Mary, the world would be incredibly boring."
Tom laughed despite himself.
"You mean that?"
"I do."
She nudged his shoulder.
"You know what Mary does when she visits?"
"What?"
"She helps me fold laundry."
Tom made a horrified face.
"Exactly."
Y/N smiled.
"You make life interesting."
Tom grinned.
"That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me."
"It's not a compliment."
"It sounded like one."
"It wasn't."
Tom's grin widened.
Y/N would never openly admit how fond she was of him.
If asked directly, she'd probably say:
"He's a menace."
Which wasn't entirely inaccurate.
But when Tom scraped his knee, she was the one cleaning the wound.
When he stayed for dinner, she always made sure there was enough food.
When he looked exhausted after a rough week, she quietly packed extra snacks for him to take home.
And when people were too hard on him, she defended him.
Not because he was innocent.
He rarely was.
But because she knew something many adults forgot.
Tom wasn't a bad kid.
He was a good kid with too much imagination and not enough common sense.
One day Huck finally caught on.
The boys had just finished helping Henri build a blanket fort.
Y/N was pretending to complain about the mess.
Tom was grinning.
Huck smirked.
"You know she likes you, right?"
Tom nearly dropped a pillow.
"What?"
Y/N pointed a warning finger.
"Huck."
"No, seriously."
Tom looked completely stunned.
"She does?"
Y/N groaned.
"Huckleberry."
Huck ignored her.
"She only yells at people she cares about."
Tom looked between them.
Then a slow smile spread across his face.
Y/N immediately regretted everything.
"Oh no."
Tom stood up.
"You care about me."
"Don't."
"You really care about me."
"Tom."
"This is the greatest day of my life."
Y/N buried her face in her hands as Huck laughed himself breathless and Henri looked utterly confused.
From that day forward, Tom made a point of reminding her whenever possible.
And every single time, she responded exactly the same way.
"Tom Sawyer, if you don't stop talking—"
Yet despite the threat, there was always a smile hiding behind her words.
Because for all his pranks, troublemaking, and endless schemes, Tom had become family long ago.
Neither of them would ever say it aloud.
But both of them knew it.