Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out."

A pattern that repeated itself in Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit's head like a mantra.

The ten year old couldnt help it. How could he not? He could die any second. Dehydration was getting to him, starvation was going to be a bitch to deal with soon, zombies....

Oh, did he forget to mention that?

Zombies, well, in Tommy's opinion, suck. Sure, they seemed cool in movies (Clara almighty, when was the last time he saw one of those?), but in real life they were just horrible. Loudly groaning, making it hard to sleep without the feeling of discomfort and dread crawling up your spine like spiders, ripping at the doors and barriers inside of the apartments. And sure, he may be just ten years old, but he's all-too familiar with death.

He barely gets any sleep these days because of it.

And thanks to the zombies, he never really got much food, not that he ever did to begin with.

(He distantly remembers being nicknamed "Runt" by some of his group mates. Skinny and lanky, not really excelling at anything. The last one to get food, first one to get kicked out or killed for being a burden.)

His group was more generous than most, feeding the good kids good enough meals and getting them comfortable enough sleeping bags. But despite being somewhat nicer, they'd hurt Tommy whenever he said something wrong, for moving wrong, for expressing the wrong emotions, even breathing wrong. Doing something wrong is a weakness.

And weakness needs to be either punished or removed.

Tommy shivered at the memories.

So now there he was. Hiding in a storage closet in the middle of an abandoned apartment complex after his group finally decided they had enough of his shit.

What a great way to start his day.

...
..
.
.
.

Was that a scream?

Tommy listened to the echoing cry. Surely was a scream. He doesnt think that it's all that close to him, so he tries to zone it out...

He didnt even notice the footsteps that grew louder and louder.

The door quietly opened, and a panicked yell erupted from the small blonde. Wow, Tommy. Great hiding skills.

"Hey! Hey! It's ok!" Said a voice that belonged to a beanie-wearing (or was it just a really smooshed hat?) person, a fire axe strapped to his back. "We uh, we won't hurt ya. Sorry for um, scaring you."

Tommy spiked up, grabbing the pipe that lay next to him and defensively pointed it at the hat-wearing person. Hattie put their hands up, but stepped in front of something (someone?) small, whispering something. Footsteps echoed as a young boy rushed out, and Tommy's eyes narrowed. "Wha-what the hell do you want?"

"Nothing! Nothing. Just looking for some supplies, man. Really. You uh, probably scavenged this place already."

A snort. "No shit. Been hiding hear for a while now.." He couldn't really define Hattie's features in the dark, but he could see that the dude was a bit taller than him, carrying a duffel bag. "The nightly hoard's gonna come soon. Fuckin' leave while you still can."

"And leave you here?"

"As I said, lived here a long while." Shit, was this fucker for real? Couldn't he just fucking leave or something by now?

Hattie took a step forward, and the thin pipe was raised higher. They stopped their tracks. "You don't have any more food, judging by the emptiness of the place and the way your backpack looks like an elephant sat on it."

Shit.

"What's it to you?! I don't want your pity, bitch!"

Hattie shot him a look. He thinks he did, at least. "You look like you're about to drop from malnourishment, kid," Hattie sighed, "Listen.. you obviously need food. You won't last even a couple more days. Hell, you're gonna die before you even get any food, judging by the amount of zombies outside. I can give you food, hell even a person to just talk to. Just come out of here with me, and I'll give it."

Skepticism was evident on Tommy's features "..how do I know you ain't fucking lying to me?"

"You can't. All you can do is trust me." An open hand. An opportunity to live, or an opportunity to get looped into a kidnapping.

Tommy's risk the chance.
He stood up, wobbling a bit before regaining his balance and grabbing his bag. "Fine, I'm in," he told Hattie, gripping the pipe a bit harder, "lead me around, bitchboy."

Hattie sent him a reassuring smile as they stepped out, and Tommy didn't know how to feel about it.

Chapter Text

So, Hattie's real name was Quackity apparently.

Well, he said it's his name, at least. Dressed in a blue Adidas jacket and pants, his dark hair was hidden under a LAPD beanie, resting just over his shoulders. Their face held many scars, but one scar stood out, slicing right over Quackity's left eye from mouth to eyebrow. Tommy wondered where he got that one from.

When the young boy followed Quackity, he expected to be played, to suddenly get back stabbed or something. Hell, maybe even just to have the older to just turn around and laugh at his face. But no.

Instead he was met with a somewhat-working car and a packet of what seemed to be beef jerky. Huh. Neat.

"...are you going to take it or?"

And there's this guy.

Apparently, his name is Purpled (seriously, what is it with those two and weird names?). A kid that was only a bit older than Tommy apparently, with pale ash blonde hair and somehow with purple eyes, adorning a bloodied and dirty purple hoodie, black jeans and muddy dark sneakers. The one that Quackity left him with so he could look around their overgrown parking area a bit. The one that was handing him the jerky.

"You ok?" Purpled lightly furrowed his brows, but otherwise his facial features remained almost emotionless, "You've uh, been staring for a while."

Tommy shakes his head, and grabs the packet, ripping the top off with his teeth. Taking a piece out, he sniffs the piece of jerky. "If this is drugged, I'll fucking kill you." States the blonde, shooting a glare at the guy.

"It's just jerky, I promise you." Purpled shrugs, opening the door to the back of the car. He doesn't shut it, instead patting the spot beside him. "Come on."

Before Tommy can speak up about it, Quackity reappears. "Me perdonas?" He says in a high-pitched voice. Surprisingly enough, it causes Tommy to let out a quiet giggle. "Ay, glad that you haven't left yet! Thought you'd run away from here or something."

"'Course I wouldn't. I want to live, not get mauled to death by hundreds of zombies." Tommy replied, sarcasm laced in his voice.

Quackity huffed in amusement. "Of course, kid. Of course. Now get in the car, I'm getting us the hell out of here."

Woah woah woah, wait a second!

"I've never said I'm leaving with you fucks!"

"Yeah, well, you're too far to get into a good hiding spot, and it's almost sundown. Just like you said, I think you'd want to avoid getting, quote, "mauled to death by hundreds of zombies"."

This bitch. "Fine! Fine! I'll go! Just. I get to keep the jerky, no take backs." Tommy clutched the packet to his chest, eyes narrowing. "Also, this is totally considered a kidnapping. You're kidnapping a child."

The noirette raised an eyebrow "I feel like kidnapping is such a strong word, it's more like," he pondered for a moment, "forcefully taking you with us to keep you safe!"

Tommy shot Quackity a look, who simply shot him a grin. With a huff, Tommy rushed to the back of the car, climbing onto the seat next to Purpled. Quackity sat down on the front seat, getting comfortable in his seat before revving up the engine and riding off and out of the town.

Ok, this was getting awkward. Really awkward.

They've been sitting in silence for thirty minutes already in this odd silence. Just silence! The hell! You can't even hear the engine!

Fuck you, environmentally safe cars.

Tommy couldn't help but tap on the windows, play with the strings of his bag, just touching anything and everything just to occupy himself with something other than pure silence. Sadly, it was getting boring. Really boring. "So... what's your favourite colors?"

A snort is heard. "You choose that as a conversation starter? Really?"

"Oh, fuck off, big man. I wanted to just clear the silence, but of you're gonna be like that, then fine. Don't talk."

Purpled turns his head from his book to look up at Tommy. "..Purple. I like purple."

"'Course you do, big man, you legit have purple eyes." Tommy told him, tone lighthearted. Purpled shrugged, eyes returning to stare at his book.

Quackity piped in soon after, "Mine's blue! I think it's pretty chill."

Tommy blinked, before smiling a bit. "Mine's red."

After that, it was lighthearted conversations and giggles from there, the atmosphere becoming more pleasant and friendly.

...
..
.

"Our favorite colors are literally the bisexual flag."

"Our outfits are literally matching the colors and you just noticed?"