Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy tears off his socks and shoes and throws them next to a rock. He rolls up the cuffs of his jeans to just below his knees and splashes into the creek, cursing at the unexpected biting chill of the water. The floor of the creek is soft silt, Tommy digs his feet into the muck. 

“Are you coming in? The water’s warm!” Tommy lies, grinning at Tubbo who’s sitting on the bank methodically untying his shoes and setting them neatly next to Tommy’s. Tubbo rolls his eyes, eyeing Tommy’s gritted teeth as water splashes up his calves. 

“Just a moment.” 

Tubbo rolls up his own pant legs and steps into the creek gingerly, hissing at the cold. 

Venturing into the creek had seemed like a good idea when he and Tommy had seen the quiet trickling waters, after hours of cooking under the sun. Tubbo wishes he had just chosen to wear shorts instead of letting Tommy talk him into cooling off in the creek. 

“Took you long enough.” Tommy says once Tubbo is in the shallow water. Tubbo scrunches his nose at the teasing. 

Tommy gets a wicked look on his face, one Tubbo knows well. Tommy bends down and splashes freezing water at Tubbo before Tubbo has a chance to move away. 

“Tommy!” Tubbo complains, shivering. Tommy lets out a gasping laugh that is quickly cut off when Tubbo retaliates. 

The two boys splash their way across the creek, feet sinking into the mud and letting out a few gasps of pain when they occasionally step on a particularly sharp rock. 

After both boys are properly soaked Tommy sticks out a hand to Tubbo. 

“Truce?” 

Tubbo shakes it. 

“Truce.” 

Tommy throws himself onto the other creek bank, lying on his back and panting, squinting up at the sun that filters through the trees. His red and white tee is plastered to his skin and muddy in various patches. Tubbo flops next to him on his belly, pillowing his head in his arms, dark brown hair dripping. 

A few bees buzz around the boys, inspecting their hair before moving away to the patch of flowers a short while away. Tubbo watches the tiny creatures delightedly. 

He suddenly sits up, something in the distance catching his eye. He pokes at Tommy’s shoulder. 

“Tommy, look. What’s that?” 

Tommy rolls onto his side and follows the direction of Tubbo’s finger. 

“I dunno. Let’s go check it out.” 

They heave themselves off of the moss and pick their way through the forest. They stop short at some wooden structure. It’s a crudely constructed wooden path, out of place and with seemingly little reason to its location. It stretches far into the woods. Tommy and Tubbo have explored most of the areas around their house extensively, and have never seen the path before. It’s almost like it appeared overnight. 

“We should see where it leads.” Tommy says excitedly, ready to start down the path, shoes or no shoes. Tubbo tugs him back. 

“Tommy, we can’t go now! The sun is almost going down. And besides, we can’t just go without telling Wilbur and Phil. Who knows how long the path is! Or where it goes!”

Tommy sighs. He flicks his eyes back and forth between the path and the shorter boy next to him. His gaze finally lands, resigned, on Tubbo.

“Yeah, you’re right. Come on, we better head back.” 

He spares one last longing glance at the path before he and Tubbo make their way back to the creek, splashing across to where they left their shoes. They begin the walk home, shoving each other gently and laughing loudly was they recount their day. 

The boys get home just before nightfall, letting themselves into the log cabin as quietly as they can manage. 

Tommy presses a finger to his lips, motioning for Tubbo to leave their muddy things by the door and head for the stairs. 

“Hey boys.” A voice calls from another room of the house. 

“Aw, shit.” Tommy groans. 

He and Tubbo enter the family room with heads hung. 

A fire is crackling in the fireplace, bathing the room in a warm glow. Phil sits in his large leather armchair, picking something that looks suspiciously like spaghetti sauce out of his wings. Wilbur lies stretched out on the fraying rug, nose buried in a book. He looks up absently at Tommy and Tubbo, smiling at his brothers before pushing his glasses up his nose and returning to his book. 

In the connected kitchen, two dinner plates are set out on the oak table. 

Phil raises an eye at the teenagers, waiting for an explanation. Tubbo nudges Tommy to say something. 

“Heeey Dad. Sorry we’re late. We went farther than we thought. But we found a path in the woods, and I want to explore it tomorrow but Tubbo said we should ask you first so can we please explore this path tomorrow we promise we’ll be good! Ooh! Is that spaghetti for us?” 

Phil’s eyes crinkle kindly at Tommy’s rambling. 

“It’s for you. Go eat. I’m going to bed, but we’ll talk in the morning about this path of yours, I promise.” Phil stands up, his wings folding up behind him. He ruffles Tommy and Tubbo’s hair gently before heading upstairs. 

“Night Dad.” Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo call. 

“Goodnight boys.” 

Tommy and Tubbo scarf down the lukewarm spaghetti, not talking as they busy themselves eating. 

Wilbur enters the kitchen, cheek red from where it had been resting in his palm. 

“What did you find in the woods?” He asks, taking a seat at the table next to his little brothers. 

“A path! A wooden path, and we’ve never seen it before.” Tommy gushes around a mouthful of food. 

“A path…” Wilbur muses, “Can I come with you tomorrow to check it out?” 

The younger boys nod excitedly. It’s not every day their older brother decides to follow along on one of their adventures, usually content to stay at home with Phil reading a book or messing around with his guitair. 

“Yeah of course you can Wilbur!” Tubbo smiles and Wilbur smiles back. 

“Alright, thanks. I’ll be off to bed then too. See you in the morning.” 

They echo back good night wishes, finishing their food and placing their dishes in the wash basin. 

The bedroom Tommy and Tubbo share is small, bunk bed crammed against one wall and two small dressers on the other. The floor is littered with laundry and shoes and various weaponry Phil has always insisted they know how to use. The brothers share almost everything, but their most important possessions they keep in their backpacks. Tommy’s music discs carefully wrapped in a leather case along with a few odd crystals he’d found in the woods make their home in his old beat up bag. Tubbo’s backpack holds a scrapbook of pressed leaves and flowers and the folded piece of paper with his name that he’d been found with, all those years ago at the base of a tree when he had only been 3 years old. The backpacks lie together by the door, always ready for any adventure the boys decide to go on. 

The walls are covered with drawings of their home, and sketches of insects, mostly drawn by Tubbo. A faded photograph of the three brothers and Phil is taped up by the door, and an incomplete map of the area surrounding the cabin is tacked to the wall haphazardly. A carved wooden sign, the letters clearly made by young children reads: “Tommy and Tubbo’s room!” with painted smiles and bees. 

Tommy tugs off his jeans in favor of soft pajama bottoms and a red sweatshirt, tossing Tubbo his own PJ bottoms and green sweatshirt. 

Tubbo checks on his butterfly terrarium, inspecting the newly formed chrysalis. 

Tommy pulls a charcoal pencil from his backpack and sketches the wooden path onto the map, drawing a question mark by it. 

He climbs the ladder to his top bunk, tiredly pulling the blankets over himself. Tubbo clambers into the bottom bunk, rolling to face the wall and sighing deeply. 

“Goodnight Tommy.” Tubbo whispers up. 

“Night Tubbo.” Tommy whispers back, shutting his eyes. They let the sound of the crickets outside their window lull them to sleep. 

Phil isn’t in the house when Tommy stumbles downstairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and sandy hair sticking up everywhere. He spreads some peanut butter on a slice of bread and chews tiredly, not acknowledging Wilbur who’s already nursing a cup of coffee. Tubbo follows shortly after, preparing his own breakfast with the same level of energy. Wilbur wordlessly pushes two more cups of coffee at the two. 

Once the caffeine has kicked in Tommy wakes up enough to recognize their Dad is nowhere to be found. 

“Where’s Dad?” 

“Dunno,” Wilbur shrugs, refilling his coffee. “He was gone when I woke up.” 

The front door opens just than, the familiar rustling of Phil’s wings a comforting sound. 

Phil enters the kitchen in full gear, sword at his waist. Wilbur eyes it warily. 

“Something wrong?” 

“Nothing at all. Just went to go check out that path of yours Tommy, and you can never be too careful.” Phil shucks off his grey coat, hanging it up on the rack. 

“What did you find? Can we go? Please!” Tommy folds his hands pleadingly, blue eyes bright. Tubbo nods violently in agreement. 

Phil smiles sadly. 

“You can go-” Tommy and Tubbo cheer, and even Wilbur looks thrilled. 

Phil raises a finger. 

“But I must warn you. This is not the same as finding a new spot for a fort or a nest of foxes. This is a new world entirely. Someone built that path, and I don’t know who. I’m not going to stop you from going, although I don’t think I really could if I tried. You’re old enough to make your own way in the world. I think we’ve all known for a while you boys weren’t going to stay here forever.” 

“You’re talking like we aren’t going to come back.” Tubbo says, brown eyes widening. 

“It’s a long journey, and a long path. And I know you boys. Once you reach whatever it is you’re looking for, whatever or whoever is at the end of that path, I don’t think you’ll want to leave.” 

It’s the oldest the three boys have ever seen Phil look, still in his traveling clothes, a few lines noticeable around his eyes. Pale hair a stark contrast to pitch black wings. 

“Well we don’t have to go then! Or you can come with us!” Tubbo offers. Tommy kicks him under the table. 

“Sorry.” Tubbo mouths at him. 

Phil shakes his head. 

“No, you have to go. There are things for you to learn, mistakes for you to make. Maybe other people too, and you don’t want to spend your whole life living with your dad do you? It’s time. I’m ready, and I think you are too. Finish up your breakfast and get packed. There’s a long road ahead of you.” 

The wooden path stretches in front of Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo. The three brothers clutch tightly to their packs, traveling cloaks fastened securely around the shoulders of the younger boys. Phil double checks that each boy’s sword is properly sheathed at their waist. 

Birds chirp their early morning song and the sun has not yet reached full force. 

Tommy is practically bouncing in excitement, eyes shining as he thinks about just what could be at the end of the path. Tubbo bites his lip worriedly. He’d never admit it because Tommy would tease him-although in the end still bend to Tubbo’s wishes-but he would be perfectly fine with staying at home with Phil forever, spending summers getting terribly freckled from all of Tommy’s outdoor expeditions. But he knows that even though he loves Phil, who adopted him when he was young and raised him as his own, he’s sworn to himself to follow Tommy wherever he goes. And Tommy longs to see more of the forest, more of their world. 

Wilbur appraises the path carefully, a few curls falling over his eyes. He pats the pocket of his trench coat, making sure he has his glasses. 

Phil’s large wings encircle the boys for a moment in a semblance of a hug. 

“Be well.” He murmurs. He releases them from the shelter of his wings. 

“Goodbye Dad.” Tommy says, head held high and proud. 

“Bye Dad. Thank you.” Tubbo tries to mimic Tommy’s resolute tone of voice, but it cracks a little. 

Phil places a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, nodding him forward. Tommy offers Tubbo a smile and starts forward onto the path with determined strides. Tubbo follows behind immediately. 

“Take care of your brothers Wilbur.” Phil orders, his pale eyes meeting Wilbur’s dark ones. 

“I will. I promise.” Wilbur holds his father’s gaze until Phil nods, satisfied and steps back to let Wilbur follow his brothers down the path. Tommy is already singing some song about adventures and glory, long, gangly legs making it difficult for Tubbo to keep up. 

Wilbur tugs his beanie down tightly and begins walking. 

None of the three look back.