Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was the first day of their new job and Tommy and Tubbo were way more excited than they should have been. Granted, money was always something to make anyone ecstatic. And it wasn’t like it was their first first day. No, they had just finished training and were ready to work on their own without Wilbur peeking over their shoulders all the time. Well, mostly. 

“Another beautiful day in Big Man City,” Tommy said, continuing he and Tubbo’s bit of pretending to be news hosts that they’d started in the car. “Unfortunately, I’m here in the one place run by the least big man I’ve ever met.”

That being Wilbur, who was poking bread dough while looking like it had killed his parents, his dog, and his social life, in no particular order. 

“You’re a goblin,” Wilbur said flatly, looking like he would much rather be asleep.

“Gremlin, actually,” Tubbo said cheerfully, ruffling Tommy’s hair before darting away and getting started on work. Tommy stayed where he was, wings folding and unfolding as he inspected Wilbur. 

After a moment, Tommy poked him in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You look dead,” Tommy announced. “Niki will fire you if you fall asleep and get your nasty bald head in everything.”

“I’m not bald,” Wilbur replied with a haughty sniff. “And she can’t fire me, I own the place too! And- and I happened to be up practically all night, so I get a pass.”

“Not if you were wasting your time on…” Tommy had to think of a good time-waster. “Social media.”

“I was not, I’ll have you know.” Wilbur evidently deemed the bread kneaded enough, because he promptly scooped the lump up and plopped it back into the bread cooking thing - what was its name? Tommy couldn’t remember. “I was trying to work with money.”

Tommy made a revolted gagging sound. He was promptly tapped with a spoon.

“Hush. Unless you know how money keeps being put into the account despite it not matching our income, not a peep out of you.”

Tommy stuck out his tongue, but went over to bug Tubbo and exchange a shrug. 

Pretty soon after Tommy and Tubbo had arrived, Ranboo came and started helping decorate the cupcakes, making nice and neat little swirls out of frosting while Tommy still struggled to make his not look like it had been brutally stabbed. To be fair, though, Tommy was pretty sure the enderian had worked at the bakery since he was, like… wait, how old was Ranboo?

Oh well. It was an okay day. Unlike the first day, there was no Wilbur hovering in his ugly coat, no being late like absolute clowns because neither Tommy’s mom nor Tubbo’s dad could get out of the house quick enough, no being weird and awkward with Ranboo. 

After an hour or two Niki clattered down the stairs leading up to her apartment, which was situated over the bakery, and grabbed her messenger bag off a hook. She’d previously been out front, so this was… weird.

“Going somewhere?” Wilbur asked, bagging the loaves of bread that had since come out of the oven. He looked annoyed, pushing his glasses back up so they wouldn’t fall off his face and make him blind.

“I need to run an errand,” Niki replied briskly, riffling through some papers and tucking them into the bag. “Ranboo can man the cash register. You remember what I taught you, right?” 

Ranboo nodded quickly.

“Think so.”

“Well, I wrote down some instructions, and they should be taped underneath the counter.” Niki tugged her sweater off another hook, pulling it on as Wilbur let out a lengthy, melodramatic groan.

“Why’s he doing it?”

“You won’t get burned trying to wash icing off your hands,” Niki replied tartly. 

“This is the third time you’ve had to leave in the last two weeks.”

“Wil, I have a second job. Sometimes things come up.”

“Ugh, fine.” Wilbur eyed Ranboo. “If you ruin the finances I’m murdering you and cremating you in the oven.”

Ranboo, evidently used to Wilbur’s sleep-deprived moods, didn’t pale. Good for him.

“Noted.”

“Just a reminder, Wil, but you’re the one who tried to pass a guitar off as ‘business expenses’.” Niki glanced down at her watch. “Now I really have to go. See you soon.” She gave Ranboo a reassuring pat on the back and left through the backdoor, keys on her belt jingling together. Ranboo promptly disappeared to the front, wiping specks of frosting off on his apron, 

Tubbo and Tommy exchanged a glance, and when Tubbo’s mouth twitched, Tommy’s did too, and they had to turn away so they wouldn’t burst out laughing. 

When he’d controlled himself again, though, Tommy turned back and caught Tubbo’s gaze.

A guitar? He mouthed, and Tubbo shrugged.

Maybe he likes music, he replied, and promptly sliced his finger on the frosting tip thing, ending the conversation as he stuck the offending finger in his mouth to contain the bleeding.

“Alright. Tommy,” Wilbur turned back, stretching out his back and shoulders. “Take the bread and put it on the rack with blue tape. I’ll finish the cupcakes.” He scooped up a large, stainless-steel bowl and plopped it into Tubbo’s arms. “You, stir.”

“Sir, yessir,” Tubbo muttered, gingerly poking whatever was inside with a whisk as Wilbur finished frosting cupcakes, probably redoing a few of Tommy’s. 

Tommy hefted the bread bags over to the rack of shelves, which led directly into the front room so the cashier - or Ranboo, at the moment - could grab bags quickly without as much going back and forth. Peering through the gaps, Tommy could see the enderboy himself perched on a stool, all tucked up so he’d fit behind the counter and messing with the cash register.

“Psst!” Tommy hissed, and Ranboo jumped, turning around.

“What?” He hissed back.

Tommy grinned.

“Nothing. Watcha doing?” Ranboo’s long fingers were still clicking away, even though no customer had come by. 

“Um.. just finishing up the last sale.”

Tommy frowned.

“You’re not putting in any money.”

Ranboo faltered, actually looking to the register. His fingers stilled.

“O-oh, I must’ve forgotten. I already did that one.”

"You… forgot," Tommy deadpanned. "What, you got memory problems or somethin'?"

"Tommy, stop antagonizing him, or else he will end up forgetting," Wilbur called from the back.

Tommy rolled his eyes but continued people-watching. There was a couple sitting in the small ‘cafe’ section, talking and laughing over a plate of scones - which Wilbur hated making for some reason. There was a mother looking over the display case as her child swung on her arm, sighing and generally expressing extreme boredom.

Interrupting Tommy’s people-watching, there was a very loud and very uncharacteristic sound from the back and he turned, instantly going to the back of the bakery.

There was someone standing there. A stranger - a piglin, with the tusks and the ears and the height - looming over Tubbo, who had frozen where he stood like a bug wary of being crushed. Wilbur was gone. Who even was this? 

He was threatening Tubbo, which meant Tommy, having negative survival instincts, threw himself at the piglin’s back with the intent of knocking him over.

It failed, obviously, because Tommy had hollow bones and piglins had bones made of lead, and he squawked when he was plucked up by the collar like a stray cat, held at arm’s length.

"Put me down!" Tommy shouted, clawing at the offending arm. 

"Are you going to keep trying to skin me?" The piglin leaned his head back to avoid getting thwacked by Tommy’s beating wings, dodging a foot that should’ve hit him in the gut. “Kids these days. Wil!”

Wilbur stuck his head out from the storage room, looking completely unbothered.

“What? Oh, hey Tech. Mind putting down my employee?”

The piglin snorted, giving Tommy a suspicious glance, but eventually set him back down.

“If these are your new employees, I’ll have to stop coming around. Is Niki here? She texted and asked me to come over.”

Wilbur frowned, walking in with a bag of powdered sugar under one arm.

“No, she left a few minutes ago. You taking a shift?”

“Might as well, I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Cool.” Wilbur dumped half the bag into another mixing bowl, opening up the fridge to grab a stick of butter. “We’ve still got that wedding cake to detail, so you work on that and I can get these two started on the muffins for the mayor’s brunch thing.”

“Good, because I absolutely will not.” The piglin completely ignored Tommy and Tubbo as he went to get a piping bag, hooves clicking against the tile.

“Tommy, you pour the batter, Tubbo will even it out and line the tins.”

"I’m sorry, but-” Tommy gestured frantically at the piglin, who was going through the cupboards like he owned them. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Oh, right.” Wilbur dropped the butter into the bowl. “That’s my brother, Technoblade. That’s too long, though, so we stick with Techno or Tech.”

Tommy blinked, looking from Wilbur, who was definitely not a piglin, to the piglin himself. He’d taken out a couple colors, setting the tiny bottles on the counter before going to open the cake fridge and take out one of the tiered constructions. 

"This is the couple that wanted the strawberry and rose decals, right?"

“Yeah.” Wilbur paused the mixer briefly, adding some milk and vanilla. “Pass me the red, will you?”

The piglin reached up into the cupboard and tossed Wilbur the red food coloring. Meanwhile, Tommy just stared on in confusion - one look at Tubbo said that he felt similarly.

“Um?” Tommy said, which expressed everything that needed to be said. “You’re brothers?”

“Hey, twins,” Wilbur corrected.

“I’m adopted,” The piglin - Techno - said, raising one hand. “He’s been trying to lobby for us to be twins for years. I think he’s just lonely.”

“You know I have a girlfriend. You’re the lonely one here.” 

“Oh? And what might her name be?” Techno replied, side-eying Wilbur.

“It’s Sally, and she’s a mer!” 

“Really, a mer?” Techno asked, now turning fully to his brother. “How come we’ve never met her, or is it more of a distant relationship since she lives so far out in the ocean?”

“Actually, she works at the local aquarium. And you would’ve known that if you and dad weren’t always having your own secret conversations!” Wilbur scowled, picking up the full tray of muffins and sliding it into the oven. Then he smacked Techno in the back of the head. “That’s what you deserve for never being around.”

"If you're that upset, go talk to your father. Besides, I'm not the one who moved out the second we turned eighteen." 

Tommy had to stifle his laughter when Tubbo whispered "ooh, drama" to him from across the island counter, and wandered closer to the piglin, who was hunched over the cake. He watched with more than faked interest as Techno began piping little strawberries onto the cake with dark pink frosting. They were clustered onto the first tier like a bunch of grapes. Except they were strawberries. The analogy didn’t make much sense.

“You do the fancy piping stuff,” Tommy phrased it as a statement.

“Yep. I come over every so often when there’s fancywork that needs doing.” Techno didn’t look up, hands not even shaking and making the strawberries look like misshapen kidneys (not that Tommy had ever done that). “Wil doesn’t have enough patience, and Ranboo’s too twitchy.” He glanced over his shoulder. “If you’re just going to breathe down my neck, you can at least help. Here.” He passed Tommy a piping bag full of yellow. “Put little dots on the top of the cake. Three inches apart at least.”

“Why?” Tommy eyed the tip with distrust, seeing as it looked like the one that had stabbed Tubbo earlier.

“That’s for me to know and you to not worry about.” Techno continued frosting, completely unbothered by how cryptic and worrying he was being.

“Tubbo, go and grab the bowls in the pantry,” Wilbur ordered. “There should be two, both covered and green.”

Tommy shrugged internally, and started placing tiny dots, trying to remember how long three inches was and to avoid Techno’s elbow.

“Do you get paid?” he asked after a second. 

“What? Why?”

Tommy shrugged.

“Because you’re working here. If you’re not being paid, then I’m pretty sure that’s exploitation.”

“Or he’s too soft to accept payment,” Wilbur retorted, slamming a bowl down on the counter. 

“Nah, I’m completely heartless.” Techno set the piping bag aside, taking the one of lighter pink and adding a layer of heart-shaped petals around the yellow dots Tommy had added.

“Tech, you’re literally frosting a wedding cake.”

“Ye-ep.” Tommy couldn’t help but be a little jealous at how Techno managed to curl the petals slightly, instead of turning them into a mess of frosting and disappointment. “And I’m hating every second.”

“Sure, you big teddy bear.” As Wilbur swept past, he ruffled his brother’s braided hair affectionately. “I’m going to see if Ranboo needs any refills on anything.”

“Oh, uh, I’ll do it.” Techno jumped up, squirting a twist of pink onto the counter by accident. “I haven’t seen him in a while, figure I want to see he’s doing okay.”

“Um… okay.” Wilbur frowned. “Do you want me to finish the cake?”

“No, I’ll do it later.” Techno said, placing his piping bag down and practically teleporting away.

From opposite sides of the room, Tommy and Tubbo exchanged a mildly confused glance. 

“Are those two close?” Tubbo asked Wilbur once Techno was out of the room.

“I don’t think so? But then again, I haven’t really spoken with both of them in the same room before so…” Wilbur frowned more, then shrugged, face smoothing. “Whatever. I’m their boss, not their babysitter. They’ve probably talked when I’m not around. None of my business.” He paused, expression going thoughtful. "I do wonder what they're talking about, though…"

Tommy, wondering the exact same thing, started sneaking towards the front of the bakery as soon as Wilbur wasn’t paying attention. This time, he ducked around the shelves, inching close enough to hear Ranboo and Techno talking.

“Niki texted you?” Ranboo was asking. “That’s why you came?”

“Yep. She sounded a bit worried. What’s been going on?”

“Uh…. Wilbur was looking through the finances, I think. Are we sure putting the two into the same account is a good idea? This is the third time this month. If he-”

“We’d have to explain to the auditor,” Techno interrupted. “And then Wilbur will notice, which we do not want. Understand?”

“Yes.” Ranboo’s voice was barely audible. “I know. But we'll have to tell-"

"Shh… Hey, kid!" Techno suddenly called out, making Tommy jump. "Mind not listenin' in on other people's conversations?"

"Ah, shit, sorry. I just. Uhm. Accidentally cut myself and needed the first aid kit and-"

"The first aid kit's above the sink." Ranboo said, confused. "Do you need help getting it? I thought you or Wilbur would be tall enough-"

"No, I got it! Sorry for interrupting your very important work talk!" Tommy turned around and silently cursed Techno's extreme sense of… well, sensing things. He’d have to be more careful next time. 

Back in the main room, Wilbur had perched up on the counter with the least amount of flour, supervising while Tubbo grabbed handfuls of bread dough and plopped them into a baking dish.

“Tommy, come help with the rolls,” Wilbur ordered. “Where were you?”

“I was asking where the first-aid kit was,” Tommy said quickly. “‘Cause Tubbo cut himself.”

Tubbo himself scowled, hiding the sliced finger behind his back.

“It’s not even bleeding anymore!”

“But you could still get it infected and/or infect the food if you aren’t careful,” Wilbur said, standing up and grabbing the first aid kit to throw to Tommy. “It’s a health violation on all ends. Next time, just ask me.” 

Tommy tossed the kit back to Tubbo, who relented and dropped it next to his bowl, opening it up and searching the contents.

“You’re a health violation,” the bee muttered, wings buzzing in annoyance.

“Considering I just told you what was, no, I don’t think I am.” Wilbur shot back, sitting back down at his desk. “You two need to get to work, though. We have three orders due before tomorrow morning.” He flipped through a clipboard that had been sitting on the desk, crossing the occasional thing off. “Tubbo, keep at it with the dough. Tommy, you put the cake back in the fridge so the frosting won’t melt before Techno gets back to it. And, try not to drop it this time, yeah?”

Tommy snorted, lugging the platter into his arms.

“I am a big man, Wilbur Soot. I would never do a-” He struggled to keep it even while walking. “A silly thing like dropping it.”

Which, total lie, by the way. Because he did drop it. Except Ranboo was there in an instant to catch it before it could touch the ground. Tommy, however, was not impressed, jumping back before a purple ender particle could land on his skin.

“What the hell, man?” he shouted. “Don’t just teleport like that! It’s weird!”

Ranboo sniffed, tail flicking as he balanced the cake on his creepy long fingers. 

“Weird, sure, but at least we still have a cake.” He tugged the cooler door open with one elbow and slid the cake in. “Techno’s manning the register now. My memory was really acting up so he took over.”

“Ugh, fine, just make sure he finishes the piping by tomorrow.” Wilbur wove through the kitchen to grab his coat. “I’m going on a walk. The list of orders is on the desk, make sure you get them all done before break.”

“Hey, why aren’t you going to help?” Tommy shouted.

“Because I’m your boss. You can make a few pastries by yourself.”

Tubbo snorted, covering the pan of dough with a damp towel.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t let Tommy get within a foot of any cooking equipment without supervision, much less make pastries.”

“Which is why I’m leaving Ranboo in charge,” Wilbur said before the door clicked shut and he was gone.

Ranboo just watched for a minute before turning to the two.

“Let’s get to work, I guess?”

Tubbo smirked, and hopped up to sit on the counter.

“Dunno if this is worth it, Toms,” he said conversationally. “Would you really do this all summer just for the money?” 

“You’re right, Tubs,” Tommy grinned, taking a seat as well and kicking his feet. “Why do we need to work for all this money when we could easily rob the place?”

Ranboo’s back straightened before he turned to pull a tray of muffins out of the oven. 

“You two,” he sighed, “Are going to give me a heart attack.”

“Why? Are you hiding something that we would find if we did decide to rob the bakery?” Tubbo asked teasingly.

“Oh, I bet it’s because he’s so rich that if we stole the money he wouldn’t know what to do with himself,” Tommy chuckled.

Ranboo stiffened slightly, and set the pan down.

“Doubt you’d find anything,” he said after a moment, voice oddly tense. “It’s a small business, after all, and we all have bills to pay.”

Then he was promptly hit in the back of the head with a towel.

“Lighten up, enderboy,” Tubbo called, swinging his legs. “Tommy talks big, that’s all.”

“Yeah, it’s just a joke,” Tommy added. 

Ranboo’s expression flickered between a couple of things, too quickly for Tommy to pinpoint.

“Oh, okay.” He laughed nervously. “Sorry, I’m just a bit tense.”

“You’re good, big man,” Tommy said, quickly changing his tone from solemn to cheerful. “I wouldn’t actually take any of the money. Besides, I wouldn’t look good in prison-jumpsuit orange, that’s more Tubbo’s color.”

Tubbo snorted.

“You take that back. Fluorescents are the ugliest things on the planet, and orange is the worst of them all.” He stretched back, spine audibly cracking. “How about none of us get arrested, and we all live to be… a hundred and three or something.”  

“Easy for you to say, you’re part insect, of course you’ll live forever. I’m sure the most I’ll get to is eighty-something,” Tommy replied.

“Judging by everything I’ve heard you say up until this point?” Ranboo picked up the clipboard and looked through it. “I’d say twenty-five, tops.”

“Bet,” Tubbo retorted. “Forty at least.”

“Ten bucks say you’ll be in a coma tomorrow,” Tommy said, crumpling a blank piece of paper and tossing it at Tubbo’s head. 

“Is that a threat?” Tubbo said, pretending to be shocked. “You threaten me? You, the guy who nearly burned this place down twice and dropped a cake?”

"Hey, at least the cake survived!"

"Yeah, because I caught it." Ranboo interjected, clicking his tongue thoughtfully while he read. “Tubbo, put those rolls on a shelf or something so they can rise. Tommy, grab those scotcheroos so I can slice them.”

Tommy did a double take.

“That’s a made-up word,” he said flatly. 

Ranboo blinked.

“No, it’s real. They’re those peanut butter things we made this morning.”

“Mmm, the ones with the butterscotch and chocolate on top?” Tubbo’s wings fluttered, sending up a cloud of flour. “That was good.”

Ranboo sighed.

“You weren’t supposed to- yes, those. They should be in the fridge, the one with the racks.”

“Sick.” Tubbo jumped down from his perch. “I’ll get to snitch some more.”

“ABSOLUTELY DON’T-” Ranboo teleported in front of him. “We have to sell these, not eat them!”

Tubbo pouted.

“Aw, not even a tiny piece?” He poked the enderian in the ribs. “I’ll even share some with you, noodle boy.” He tried to sidle around Ranboo, who blocked his attempts every time.

“You can’t eat the wares,” Ranboo insisted. “I’ll only let you get the tray if you promise not to eat them.”

Tubbo tipped his head back, eyes narrowed. 

“No promises.” he said, pushing past the tall enderman and sneaking a cooling tart into his mouth before turning and giving Ranboo the tray. “Here.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes at Tubbo’s garbled words - obviously the product of a full mouth - but let it slide, grabbing a butcher knife from the block and cutting the chocolate-and-cereal slab into squares.

“Tommy, go grab one of the boxes,” He said, knife moving too quickly for Tommy to feel safe sneaking a piece. “Write scotcheroos on the side. Tubbo, wipe down the counter so you can work on more sourdough starter.”

Tubbo quickly swallowed his pilfered mouthful and grabbed one of the rags from the sink, wiping down the flour-speckled counter.

When Tommy got back with a thin cardboard box, opening up the sides and writing what he hoped spelled ‘scotcheroos’ on the side, he could hear Ranboo muttering nervously under his breath.

“Wasted too much time, what if he finds out, why’d he really leave, gotta get this done, need to before break, that’s in an hour, gotta be fast.”

“Chill out, man,” Tommy said, setting the box at Ranboo’s elbow. “Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t,” Ranboo fretted, setting the knife next to the sink and pushing back some stray hair in his eyes. “There’s too much to do and I- whatever. Tommy, get these into the box.”

“Shoulda picked a different profession then, big man,” Tubbo said with a grin, looking through the fridge. “Where’s the starter?”

“Glass jar, full of watery dough, should have ‘starter’ written on the lid.” Ranboo pulled a clear bowl of dough off a shelf, and turned the bowl upside-down on the other, much more floury counter.

Tubbo searched until he finally found the starter and placed it on the clean counter.

“Now what?”

Ranboo hummed slightly as if trying to remember, scraping the contents of his bowl all the way onto the surface.

“There’s another bowl in the fridge,” he recalled finally. “It’s got water and flour - you need to add the starter to it.”

Tubbo went back to looking through the fridge as Tommy packed the chocolatey squares into the box. They went for the rest of the hour like that, Tubbo and Tommy following Ranboo’s rushed directions. At the end of the hour, Techno came into the back to tell them that it was their break time.

“Ranboo, want to go out? It’s freezing in here.”

Ranboo shrugged. 

“Sure. Oh, could we bring Tubbo and Tommy?”

“Appreciate remembering us,” Tubbo said. “Tommy?”

“Sure.”

Techno sighed.

“Okay, all three of you can come.”

“Should we go to that diner?” Ranboo suggested as they walked down the street, late morning sun shining down on everybody’s face. “The one down the street?”

“Sounds good. Y’know what, I’ll call Phil. He’d get mopey if we did this without him.”

Ranboo nodded as Techno stepped to the side to call this “Phil” person. Tommy was very suspicious. 

“Where are we going?” He demanded, trying to catch up to Ranboo’s freakishly long strides. “Who’s Phil?”

“The diner up there.” Ranboo pointed. “We go there most of the time because they serve breakfast food all day, and Techno’s an absolute heathen when it comes to pancakes.”

“Well he’s absolutely right, pancakes are awesome!” Tommy said, surprised at how well Tubbo was keeping up despite him being the shortest of all of them. “Now who’s Phil? I’m guessing not the diner.”

“Wilbur and Techno’s dad,” Ranboo said. “He’s an avian.”

Tommy frowned, staying quiet for a long time.

“He’s buffering,” Tubbo whispered, earning a snort from Ranboo.

“But Wilbur’s a human. Right? You said Phil’s an avian?”

“Wilbur’s an avian too,” Techno explained, having finished the call. “He just hides his wings.”

Tommy inspected his own wings, which were small for an avian’s and still reached halfway to his knees, and looked back up.

“Where?”

“Ask him, it’s not my business.” Ranboo shrugged as if that ended the conversation, and Tommy allowed it to be true.

The three, with Techno following in the lead, crossed the street, and up ahead was a sign that claimed the spot of the diner. Inside, Techno beelined for a man sitting in one of the booths, leaned forward to give huge jet-black wings some room to move. The stranger had blonde hair as well, and Tommy’s heart gave a little lurch before settling.

It’s not him, he sternly told himself. 

“Phil, you’re already here?” Ranboo asked, sitting down next to the man. “I thought it would’ve taken you a while, considering Techno just called you.”

“You two are predictable,” The man - obviously Phil - replied, elbow propped on the table. “I was already on my way when he called.”

“I should switch up my strategy, then.” Techno slid in across from the avian. “What good are we if we can’t keep you on your toes?”

Phil chuckled. 

“I’ll appreciate the challenge.” he turned to Tommy and Tubbo, who had squished together next to the piglin. “So you two are the newbies Niki hired?”

“We aren’t new,” Tommy spat, offended. 

“We’ve been in training for about a week,” Tubbo explained. “In Tommy’s book, that’s enough time to not be considered new.”

“They need more,” Ranboo whispered to Phil, who looked amused.

Tommy slapped his palm on the table.

“Techno was the one in charge of the cake, not me! It’s his fault!”

“Ah, yes,” Tubbo said gravely. “He came in and tripped you so you dropped the cake. That’s exactly what happened.”

Techno snorted in laughter while Tommy sputtered angrily. Phil just chuckled lightly. It was… strange. How nice he seemed. Compared to his absolute heathen sons, of course.

“What is this, pick-on-Tommy day?” Tommy complained, slumping back in the seat. “I’m hungry, let’s just eat.”

“Have you ever been here before?” Phil asked Tommy and Tubbo, who both shook their heads. “Really? Well I’d suggest the chocolate chip pancakes or the blueberry muffins. They’re the best.”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Ranboo pleaded, “they’ve been eating the stuff at the bakery all morning and they don’t need any more sugar.”

“You’re so mean, Ranboob,” Tommy deadpanned, picking up one of the menus on the table. “I didn’t eat everything.”

“Agree to disagree.” Ranboo ignored the first comment. “If you’re a savage like Tech, then I reluctantly agree with Phil on the muffins. If you want something that isn’t a breakfast food, they do have some pretty good burgers and sandwiches.”

“Breakfast is best,” Techno muttered into his menu. “Wouldn’t catch me eating a salad.”

“They don’t even have salads,” Ranboo said.

“The point here is that breakfast is best.”

Tommy finally opened his menu to see what else they had and gaped internally. The bare minimum was around twenty dollars per meal, which was more than the ramen cups his mom bought in bulk. This was not something he could afford.

“Uhm… this isn’t coming out of my paycheck, right?” Tommy asked. Tubbo had no such problem, since he usually had money on him. The other three exchanged glances.

“I mean, this is just more than I usually pay for my lunches,” Tommy started to ramble nervously, “and I don’t want to spend too much since I’m trying to save up for stuff and keep better track of my money, so…” He shrank in on himself when everyone’s eyes fell on him. “Yeah.”

Finally, Phil’s expression went from shrewd to empathetic.

“I’ll pay for this one,” He said nonchalantly. “It’ll be a freebie, but just this once.”

Tommy visibly relaxed and Tubbo patted him on the shoulder. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Honestly, I think Ranboo’s the one we should be getting after,” Techno said, ignoring the disgruntled kick he received. “Skinny as a rail, going after the sweet things.”

Ranboo snorted.

“Yeah, and I suppose it would be better to pay an arm and a leg for chorus fruit. Stop eating so much bacon, and then you can come after me.”

Tubbo wrinkled his nose.

“Ugh. Aren’t you bacon?”

Techno rolled his eyes.

“Know anything about pigs? I don’t care, it tastes good.”

“He’s a piglin, not a pig,” Phil explained. “He’s not being a cannibal.”

“Shut up, Phil, you’re ruining my brand!” Techno complained. “Whatever. Dietary preferences aside, let’s order. I need to finish the piping on the cake that, apparently, almost met an untimely demise, thanks Tommy.”

Tommy groaned and put his head in his hands while Phil waved down a waiter. A few minutes later, their food was ordered and they were met with an uncomfortable silence. Well, uncomfortable for Tommy and Tubbo. The others looked quite comfortable with the deafening lack of words. But, not wanting to try to make tense conversation, Tommy took to looking around the restaurant. 

There weren’t a lot of people here, despite it being around lunchtime. But the few that were there? They looked shady. There was one group of people on the other side of the room that were huddled together whispering. At a closer table, someone was hunched over a laptop, looking around every once in a while. When they made eye contact, Tommy was quick to look away. 

“Do you see those guys?” He whispered to Tubbo. “They look sketchy to me.”

Tubbo looked at the people Tommy was talking about and snorted. “Dude, they’re probably doing things for their work. I doubt they’re up to anything suspicious.”

“Well, I think they look suspicious.” Tommy looked up, and saw that Phil, Ranboo, and Techno all looked tense as well. “You guys think that too, right?”

Ranboo stammered at the question, and Phil closed his eyes. For a second, Tommy thought he heard the avian muttering something under his breath.

“I think we picked a bad time to come,” Techno said. He looked slightly more calm, but Tommy didn’t miss the way that his gaze flicked to the strangers. “Maybe we should go. Phil?”

“Alright kids, time to go.” Phil stood, wings rustling and stretching briefly.

“But we didn’t even get our food?” Tubbo asked, confused. 

“I’ll get it to go,” Techno told them, ushering them to get out of the diner. “Phil, take them back to the bakery?”

Phil nodded as Ranboo pushed the two boys towards the door.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy demanded quietly. “Why are we leaving?”

“We’re not exactly set in the best neighborhood,” Ranboo explained, fingers twisting together. “Techno can handle himself, but neither of you know what it’s like here. There’s gangs, a lot of them, and something was going down back there that we don’t want to be in the middle of.”

Tommy’s shoes. Red, rusty and wet. They weren’t supposed to be red. They weren’t-

“Tommy, hey.” Tubbo’s hand was on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“I know there’s gangs,” Tommy said stiffly. “But I heard the Syndicate keeps them less active around here.”

“Well, the Syndicate can’t be everywhere.” Phil spread his wings over the boys as one of the suspicious people from earlier crashed through the window, sending out a spray of glass, “The gangs know that.”

“What-” Tommy was stuck to the spot. “But Techno’s in there!”

Red shoes. Red shoes. Red-

“He’ll be fine,” Phil said, one wing wrapping around Tommy. “But let's go .” When they picked up the pace, Phil picked up his phone, dialing a number. “Wilbur? Yeah, it’s me. Where are you? … No, don’t come to the bakery. … Fight at the diner down the street… I’m with them, yeah…. Go back to your place instead, I’ll call you when it’s safe. Bye.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Tommy demanded, firmly keeping Tubbo’s hand in his hold. 

“We’ll go back to the bakery,” Phil said, other wing around Ranboo, who was staggering and muttering frantically. “Niki’s apartment should be safe enough until things blow over.”

Chapter Text

Niki’s apartment, set above the bakery, seemed cozy enough, though considerably smaller with one two four people, especially when three of said people had wings and the fourth was stupidly tall.

“How bad will things get?” Tubbo asked, hovering at Tommy’s side.

“It depends,” Phil said by way of explanation, drawing the shades but turning on the lights so they wouldn’t be stumbling around in darkness. “Chances are, things will escalate enough that the cops will get called.” 

Tommy slumped against the wall near the door and Tubbo joined him on the floor, pressed against one of Tommy’s red-feathered wings. Ranboo, hovering a few feet away, pulled his phone out, probably to check the news. 

“Someone called the cops,” he said after a few minutes. “The entire street’s been blocked off.”

“Anything from Tech?” Phil had been pacing, and was now standing in the doorway, wings opening and closing in what Tommy figured was a nervous habit. 

“I thought you said he could handle himself.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not worried,” Phil snapped at Tommy, who flinched at the harsh tone. “Sorry, just stressed. We usually don’t get separated during these.”

“Nothing,” Ranboo said softly. “But the news hasn’t mentioned victims yet.” 

Phil’s wings tightened against his back and he began to pace.

“It’ll probably be fine,” Tubbo said, as he was usually the voice of reason in times like these. “He’s built by a tank, and like you said, he can handle himself.”

Phil nodded stiffly.

“That’s right. We just need to wait.”

Nothing happened for another thirty minutes. Tommy could hear sirens, and the chatter of policemen, but nothing else. He’d wrapped his wings tightly around himself, staring down at his shoes. Black. They were black. Not red. His shoes weren’t red.

Phil’s pacing got faster, and every so often Tommy thought he heard the avian letting out a low, distressed noise. More like a warble, really.

Like a chicken, he thought vaguely, feeling Tubbo shift at his side. A regular mama hen.

Just then, a phone rang, making everyone jump at the sudden noise. Phil pulled his phone out of his pocket and put it up to his ear.

“Hello?” he answered. “Oh my gods, Techno! Are you alright? That’s good to hear… We’re at Niki’s right now… Yes… Mhm… Okay, I’m putting it on speaker,” he said, pulling the phone away from his ear and pushing a button. 

“Ranboo? Tubbo? Tommy?” Wilbur’s voice rang out over the speaker. “Are you guys alright? ”

“We’re good, Wilbur,” Ranboo answered while Tommy scrunched his nose.

“Why am I the last one you think of?” he asked. 

“Because you’re a gremlin child, that’s why,” Wilbur snapped, but he sounded relieved.

“Yeah, and you’re not Techno.”

“He’s with me,” the piglin said. “It’s closer than his place.”

“I don’t think we’ll get any more customers today,” Wilbur said, sounding a little annoyed. “Ranboo, close up the shop and Phil, do you think you’ll be able to get them over here? It’s got to be safer than Niki’s apartment.”

“Yeah, we’ll head over. Techno, make sure no one except us gets in, yeah?”

“Copy, I’ll see you when you get here. Don’t die.”

“Noted. I’ll see you later, bye.” Phil hung up and pocketed his phone. He stood for a moment as if composing himself, then put his hat back on, letting out a relieved sigh. “C’mon boys, collect your shit and we can go.”

Heading down the stairs, Tommy couldn’t help but voice a wonder.

“How are we going to get to Wilbur’s place? He doesn’t live close, right?”

“No,” Phil answered, as Ranboo had split off to close the bakery. “He lives on the other side of town.”

“Okay.” Tommy paused. “How are we getting there, again?”  

“We’ll take my car. It wasn’t outside the diner, luckily - it’s a few blocks away because of parking issues.”

“Will we be able to get through the barricade?” Tubbo asked, holding onto Tommy’s arm. “If the cops-”

“It’ll be fine, Tubs,” Tommy replied, patting his friend on the head and flattening his antennae. “I’ll make them let us through with my big man energy.”

Phil snorted, but relaxed slightly, one hand going to his pocket as Ranboo rejoined the group.

“Ranboo, you know where the spare key is, right?”

“Yep, I’ve got it.” 

“Alright, Tommy, Tubbo? You two follow me, Ranboo knows what my car looks like but I don’t want you too falling behind and getting caught up in the chaos.”

“Got it.”

With that, Phil pushed open the back door, ushering everyone out of the bakery and down the street. Tubbo and Tommy followed Ranboo all the way down the street, flinching at the sound of glass breaking and yelling. It didn’t sound like the scuffle was on the other side of the neighborhood anymore. A couple cops in riot gear ran past, not giving them a second glance before running towards the real trouble. 

“We really picked a great spot,” Tommy wheezed to Tubbo, clutching a stitch in his side from the fast pace. “A fantastic spot to work.”

“You were the one who wanted to work in a bakery. Not to mention, they were the only ones willing to hire both of us,” Tubbo shot back, glancing to the side when a gunshot rang out down the street. “Think anyone too nasty’ll notice us?”

“Sure hope not,” Ranboo said, glancing back and forth and darting between two buildings. “I mean, I don’t think anyone has.”

“They haven’t, don’t worry,” Phil reassured them, not losing focus on the task at hand. “Left here.”

They turned down the street and were greeted with a single, white van with a black crow decal on the side. 

Phil unlocked the van and Ranboo opened the back door to usher them inside. Most of the seats were cluttered with cardboard boxes, but they each managed to find a spot somewhere. 

Phil hopped in the front a few seconds later, starting the engine and pulling out into the street. It was silent for the entire drive. When they got to the police barricades, Phil stopped and leaned out the window, holding a conversation with one of the people before nodding and continuing on. 

About ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of an apartment building that was at least twelve stories tall. Phil climbed out and the boys followed suit, following him up to the top floor and to a door. 

Instead of opening the door, or at least taking out a key, Phil knocked, and after a few seconds, someone opened.

It was Wilbur, hair disheveled like he had been nervously fiddling with it since the phone call.

“You’re okay,” he said with relief. “I couldn’t see over the phone.”

“Are you two alright?” Phil asked, leading all four into the apartment. 

“Fine. Techno was cut on some glass, but he’s doing a-okay.” Wilbur gestured to the piglin, who was lounging on a couch and eating….

“Is that pizza?” Tommy asked, suddenly starving. “You seriously went and got pizza?” He darted around Phil, grabbing a slice from the open box on the coffee table.

Techno snorted, scratching at the bandage around his forearm.

“Course you only care about the food,” he said. “Never mind that I’ve been mortally wounded.”

“As if,” Phil huffed, kicking off his shoes and glancing at the box of pizza. “And seriously? That’s a nice coffee table.”

“You got it from Ikea four years ago,” Wilbur said, scratching his back through his sweater. When had he ditched his coat? “It’s on its last legs at this point.”

Tubbo inched over the pile of shoes next to the doorway, wings buzzing anxiously.

“When do you think we’ll be able to go home?” He asked, tugging at the loose threads in his jacket. “My dad’ll get upset if I’m home too late."

"Don't worry,” Wilbur said, “you'll be back before five, that's around when these things blow over anyways.” he pushed the box of pizza towards them. "Eat, you four haven't had anything yet."

Phil, muttering under his breath about stains and the carpet, took a piece and sat down so whatever crumbs he made wouldn’t get spread about. Tubbo took a piece as well, flopping down right where he was standing.

“So polite, how you bothered to feed us after putting us into a very dangerous situation,” he deadpanned, picking at the pepperoni. “This totally makes up for it.”

“Look,” Techno said around a bite of pizza. “It’s not like I knew there would be gangs there. It’s usually a nice spot.”

“You didn’t stay to make sure they were okay?” Tommy asked incredulously as he jumped onto the couch, nearly landing on Techno’s hooves before the piglin pulled them away. 

Once he had a piece of pizza, Tommy took a moment to look around. It was a fairly small apartment, with a kitchen and hallway visible from the living room where everyone currently sat. 

Wilbur had taken a seat as well, a pair of wings curled around his shoulders and his sweater hiked up so the limbs could slip out.

That’s when Tommy realized that Wilbur had wings. Well, of course he knew that because of what Ranboo had told him earlier, but this was the first time he’s seen them. 

Unfortunately, Wilbur caught him staring. 

“What?” He asked, and one wing folded back as if trying to hide. The underside was a creamy white, speckled with brown. “What’s your deal?”

His wings are too small, Tommy realized. He’d never be able to fly, not when he doesn’t have any flight feathers.

No, wait, Wilbur did have flight feathers. Kind of.

“Why’re your wings clipped?” Was the first thing out of Tommy’s mouth. 

Everyone else fell silent at that. Phil's expression flickered and he glanced at his son’s wings too. 

Tubbo just muttered a small "don't be rude" before going back to eating. 

Wilbur’s face got tense.

“None of your business.” He tugged the sweater down and his wings disappeared. “Ranboo, has the fighting calmed down yet?” 

Ranboo jumped, pulling out his phone to check.

“Uhm… Not yet, but the police are still working on it. They’d almost got everyone out. The workers at the diner are safe, only one casualty it looks like. He got thrown out a window.”

Techno let out a quiet but amused snort. Phil gave him a look.

“There’s a few who got shot, but not fatally,” Ranboo continued. “And some who got cut with glass trying to leave. Otherwise, everyone’s fine. So far, every ‘perpetrator of the riot’ has been arrested, but they’re still on the lookout for whoever threw the guy out the window.” He paused, voice getting tight. “There’s a picture from the security footage.”

Techno sat up, wincing as he put weight on his bandaged arm.

“What? There’s pictures?”

“Just one, and it’s pretty blurry.” Ranboo glanced up to Tommy, then over to Techno, handing his phone to the piglin. “But it looks like a Syndicate mask.”

"Great," Phil muttered under his breath. "Hey, do we know where Niki is?"

"She went on an equipment run earlier today," Ranboo said, letting Techno inspect whatever was on the screen of his phone. 

“Equipment run?” Tommy asked, bewildered. “She didn’t say that.”

“Not to you.” 

“Wait, this was the Syndicate?” Tubbo’s eyebrows shot up. “One of the Syndicate members was in that diner?” 

"Apparently," Phil replied stiffly. "Do they know what started this scuffle in the first place?"

Techno coughed into his hand, but didn’t reply. 

“Um..” Ranboo took his phone back, scrolling around a bit. “None of the cops know, but some witnesses said that the Syndicate suspect came up and started the fight with what turned out to be a gang.”

“Did you see that?” Tommy demanded, turning his head towards Techno. “Is that what happened?”

The piglin shook his head.

“I was just trying to get out. I heard a scuffle and decided to book it before I ended up with a hole through my head.”

"But you could’ve stayed!" Tommy exclaimed, sitting on his knees like an eager child during story time. “And if someone tried to fight you, you could’ve taken them!”

"Tommy, you think that you could've taken them." Tubbo scoffed. 

“There’s a difference between recklessness and bravery,” Techno said to Tommy, “and I’m not the one to cross that line when there’s people counting on me to get back in one piece.”

“So you could’ve?”

Techno rolled his eyes. 

“Eat your pizza, Tommy.”

The boy grumbled but begrudgingly took a bite of pizza, leaning back against the couch. It was mostly quiet for that time, save for the occasional update Ranboo gave. Well, that is until Tubbo's phone went off.

"Hello?" He answered, immediately removing the phone from his ear. 

Whoever was on the other end was loud enough to be heard even when not on speaker. 

"Tubbo? Where are you? I heard there was a gang fight around where you work, are you safe? Is Tommy with you? Make sure to stick together and stay hidden. Tell me where you are, I'll come get you guys and we can drop Tommy off at his mom's.”

"Dad!" Tubbo shouted to get the man's attention, putting the phone back to his ear. "Relax, I’m fine… no, we aren't over there anymore… we’re with our boss… no… yeah, we saw stuff… no, we’re fine… sorry for scaring you… alright, bye." He hung up, sighing. “Phil, what’s the address? My dad’s going to come get me and Tommy.”

While Phil gave Tubbo the address, Techno decided to take the time to interrogate Tommy. 

"Where do you two live?"

"The other side of town,” Tommy said around the crust he was gnawing on.

"That's a commute. Can either of you drive?” 

"No. My mum usually drives us, and if she can't, then Tubbo's dad will usually arrange a ride for us." Tommy's fingers drummed on his knees. “One of the reasons we took this job was to get a car, so we wouldn’t have to rely on our parents to take us places. Well, for me to get a car, at least. Tubbo still hasn’t passed his test.”

"How come you didn't get a job closer to your place? They've got to pay better than we do," Wilbur asked, scrunching his nose.

Tubbo replied this time, shoving the last of his pizza crust in his mouth.

“No one’ll take us. Most places in the good parts of town don’t take too kindly to hybrids working there. Think we’re shady.”

"Not to mention, they can't handle our charm." Tommy grinned, puffing out his chest. 

“Fine, they won’t hire us because they don’t like Tommy,” Tubbo joked, wings buzzing again to flick off a loose feather that had settled on them. “If either of us could hide our hybrid traits, we would, believe me.”

"Why can't you?" Wilbur asked, shifting in his spot. 

"Well, mine would break and be a complete pain," Tubbo started.

"And mum won't let me hide mine. Not that I blame her, I personally think they make me look cool," Tommy finished.

“I think she does it because your feathers are the flimsiest things on the planet and would snap if you tried,” Tubbo muttered.

“No, they wouldn’t!” Tommy shot back, feathers ruffling in annoyance. “They’re the best, sturdiest feathers ever!”

“When we were ten, your wing got caught in the door and all your feathers broke,” Tubbo said flatly. “You were fuming for months because you couldn’t fly and drop things on the teacher.”

“Look, she was a wrongun’, alright? No one can tell Thomas Danger Innit what to do!”

“Your middle name is Danger?” Ranboo asked.

“Yes!” he shouted at the same time Tubbo said “no.”

Phil had left sometime before this conversation, and now walked back inside holding a mug of something.

“Have you checked that out?” He asked Tommy. “Eating enough protein?”

Tommy huffed, folding his arms.

“You’re not my mum, you can’t tell me what to do.” He paused. “I’m actually not sure.”

“If your feathers are really delicate, you might want to check to make sure you’re getting enough protein,” Phil said, swirling his mug. “Just like hair, feathers are mostly made of proteins, and without enough, your feathers will break more easily and not grow back as fast.”

“Forget my mum,” Tommy said, blinking, “Now you’re talking like my health teacher.”

Tubbo snickered.

“Add a hot dog to your ramen next time, big man,” he teased.

“Oh, fuck you,” Tommy replied with a small laugh. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

“Don’t fall into his trap,” Techno said from the other side of the couch, talking around his third or fourth piece of pizza. “He’ll pretend to be nice, but you’ll end up doing everything he says after a week or two.”

“That’s not true,” Phil protested, wings ruffling.

Wilbur snickered and decided to join the conversation.

“I have to agree with Phil. When was the last time your feathers were sturdy enough to hold your weight?”

Tommy bit his lip and glanced down. 

“It’s not like I have a lot of time to try and fly,” he said after a moment. “And I’m not really built for sustained flight, so I never did it that much when I was younger either.”

“And he’s scared to try now because he knows I’ll make fun of him,” Tubbo said, his wings buzzing again just to make a point. “But no, to be real, neither of us have had any reason to fly anywhere. Wasn’t allowed in school, and like we said earlier, no one really likes hybrids in our area of the town anyways.”

“‘Specially not bugs or birds,” Tommy added, swinging his legs where he sat. “People think we’re freaky.”

“Well, you kind of are,” Techno said. “Imagine having hollow bones. And instincts.”

“Says the person whose room is filled from top to bottom with literal gold,” Wilbur deadpanned. “Next time you do something stupid, one of us might just sell it to buy a mansion.”

“You can’t just go and buy a mansion with someone else's gold, they’ll think you stole it,” Techno replied. “Which, technically you did, so…” He shrugged. “Just desserts for nicking my stuff.”

Tubbo’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out.

“Oh, my dad’s here. Guess we have to go.” He stood, stretching his legs out stiffly. “C’mon, Tommy.”

“Right,” Tommy stood, following Tubbo out the door. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at work then,” he called to Wilbur and Ranboo.

“Bye,” Phil called, having gone back into the kitchen. “Nice meeting you two!”

Then, they were on their way downstairs to meet up with Tubbo’s dad. When they got to the first floor, they were greeted by a ram hybrid with atrocious mutton chops and curling horns. 

“Dad!” Tubbo called, waving. 

“Hey, kiddo.” the ram took the few steps and wrapped Tubbo up in a hug. “Are you sure you’re not hurt? What happened?”

“Ranboo and Techno -Wilbur’s brother- decided to take us out to eat. And there were apparently a couple gangs there that we didn’t notice, but we got out before any fighting happened. We hid out in the bakery for a bit before Phil -Wilbur’s dad- brought us here.”

“Did you see the Syndicate? I heard that one of the members was there.”

“No, they must’ve put on the mask after we left, I didn’t see anyone wearing one while we were in there.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Schlatt sighed. “Now, come on, let’s get Tommy home.”

Schlatt led the two out of the building and into his car. Tommy took the back seat while Tubbo took the front, next to his dad. The drive to the nicer part of the city was slow, and it took fifteen minutes to drive - Tommy could only imagine how long it would take to walk. 

Eventually, the car pulled up to the front of a nice, two-story house, and Tommy recognized the listing mailbox and the peeling red door.

“Thanks,” he said, struggling to get the seat belt unbuckled with all the junk in Schlatt’s car. “See you tomorrow, Tubs, okay?”

“Alright, see you then.” Tubbo grinned, waving as Tommy got out, heading to his front door. 

Before he opened the door, he took a steadying breath, preparing himself. While he loved his mom to death, she was sometimes a little… overprotective. It was hard enough convincing her to let him get a job. If he wanted to keep it, he’d have to… not mention some things.

Tommy knocked on his front door, and when, after a few minutes, no one came, he pulled out his own house key and walked right in.

“Mom, I’m home!” he called out.

“I’m upstairs!” She called back. “The laundry just got done!”

Tommy hurried upstairs to help out.

“You’re home late,” Mom said, laying a shirt out on the rim of her laundry basket. She was still in her work clothes. “Was there traffic?”

She didn’t know.

“Yeah, there was,” Tommy lied. “Sorry, I forgot to text you.”

“Hm. Well, remember next time, okay?”

“Yes, mum.” Tommy fidgeted slightly, letting his wings drape out over the already-folded piles of clothes.

“You look worried,” Mom said, throwing him a pair of jeans. “Is something up?”

“No, no,” Tommy said hastily. “It’s just being at a new job, you know? It’s a lot to think about.”

“Okay. Make sure you’re getting enough sleep. How are you eating?”

Tommy cast his eyes to the ceiling.

“Why is everyone asking me that?”

“Oh? Who else asked? Was it Schlatt? I know he can be a helicopter sometimes…”

“No, it wasn’t him, mom.” Tommy fidgeted some more, picking a ball of shed hair off of a shirt. “It was actually my boss’s dad.”

Mom huffed, slapping a neat square of fabric down on her lap. 

“Imagine, a grown man getting all up in a complete stranger’s business.” 

“No, um, it’s just because he’s an avian as well. He was just curious, ‘cause Tubbo mentioned how my feathers break a lot.” Tommy awkwardly scratched at one of his wings, dislodging a loose grayish-red feather. 

“That still doesn’t give him a right to involve himself with other people’s children. Maybe I should talk to him. I mean, Wilbur seemed nice.”

“You went to my work?!” Tommy exclaimed, head snapping up. “When? How come I didn’t see you?”

“It was during one of your breaks. I was going to surprise you, but it looked like you guys were having fun, so I decided to put it off for another day. I got to speak with Wilbur a bit, and he’s a nice kid, you’re lucky to have someone like him as a boss.”

Tommy snorted.

“Yeah, he’s okay, when he stays out of my business.”

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing, mom, just complaining.” Tommy said, going back to the task at hand.

“That’s alright. It’s healthy to complain sometimes, you know.” 

“Great, I can be the healthiest man alive. First off-”

“Oh, you goof,” she replied with a laugh. “Are you good to finish up in here? I’ve got to go start dinner.”

“I’m good. I’ll be down in a few.” Tommy gave his mom a smile as she left to go downstairs, wings folded neatly against her back. 

When she was gone, Tommy flopped backwards onto the floor, stretching his own wings out. Would feathers get on his clothes? Probably. Did he care? Not really. 

Today had been… well, ridiculous. Now what was going to happen? The neighborhood had been torn up by a gang battle - would there even be work tomorrow? Tommy couldn’t afford his job being shut down for a while; his mom counted on him for that.

Letting out a sigh, Tommy sat up and went back to work on folding the laundry. All of that was problem for future Tommy. All present Tommy needed was a nap, and dinner. 

—————

Across the city, Tubbo was sitting on the couch with his arms folded. 

“I told you, I’m fine,” Tubbo snapped, sending a hot glare at the person who tugged on his wings. “I don’t need any of this.”

“I’m just worried about you,” Schlatt said, kneeling in front of his son. “You never know what could’ve happened. You could’ve gotten shot.”

“And not have known it? Yeah right. Dad, relax, I’m fine. See?” He flapped his wings, pushing the people looking at them back, if only a little bit.

Someone with icy fingers put their hands on his shoulders, and he automatically tensed up, despite marginally trusting the person who spoke next.

“What we should be doing,” Schlatt’s assistant, Quackity, said, “Is asking about that Syndicate bit who was there.”

“I told you, I didn’t see anything.” Tubbo shrugged out from underneath Quackity’s grip. “We got out before anything big could happen.”

Quackity and Schlatt shared a look that said they didn’t believe him. 

“I’m telling the truth! You know I can’t lie, dad,” Tubbo said, a little bit of pleading entering his voice. “Please believe me.” 

Schlatt’s eyes narrowed, and Tubbo kicked himself. Letting emotion enter his voice was always a big tell to Schlatt, who almost always assumed that he was lying.

“Are you leaving anything out?” Schlatt asked. 

Tubbo frowned at the tricky question.

“About what?”

“Are you telling me everything that happened, or are you not saying something?”

“No, I’m not leaving anything out, I told you what happened. We went out for lunch, found out there were gang members there, and then quickly left right before they got into a fight. That’s all that happened, I swear!” Tubbo was getting pretty annoyed at having to repeat everything for the tenth time that evening.

“And who were you with?”

“Tommy, Ranboo and my boss’s brother and dad, Techno and Phil.” Tubbo replied shortly. 

Schlatt sighed, and waved away the doctor he’d called in. 

“Fine. Are you going back? Trust me, there’s no problem in finding you a job somewhere safer.”

“I can’t leave Tommy alone,” Tubbo said flatly. “And we just started actually being able to work. Plus I can’t leave Niki and Wilbur scrambling to find another worker, they needed more employees when we applied.”

Schlatt and Quackity exchanged another glance.

“Fine, you can keep going,” Schlatt said after a moment, and Tubbo managed to not show the relief swirling in his stomach. “But someone’s going to be looking after you, to see if this little incident repeats itself.”

“Who?” Tubbo asked. He wasn’t surprised - one of his favorite pastimes as a kid had been trying to lose his tail, with Tommy’s help of course.

“His name is Charlie,” Quackity said, waving someone into the room. “He’s a recent hire, so be nice.”

“When am I ever not nice?” Tubbo tilted his head to the side, practically smirking. The smirk fell when he saw who, exactly, had entered. It was a man in similar clothes to Schlatt and Quackity, though he looked… slimey. Quite literally- green slime dripped down his hair and onto the shoulders of his jacket.

“Hi, I’m Charlie,” the man said cheerfully, holding out a hand for Tubbo to shake. “it’s nice to meet you, fellow human.

“I’m not a human and neither are you,” Tubbo replied, just staring at the hand. Mildly translucent, and too smooth. “And I don’t need a babysitter.”

“If you didn’t act like a toddler, you wouldn’t need one,” Schlatt said sweetly, standing again. “He’ll just be keeping an eye on you until we decide he doesn’t need to.”

“I don’t act like a toddler!” Tubbo protested, wings flaring out.

“No, you act like you’re six. Unless you’d prefer me coming along with you tomorrow,” Schlatt said, adjusting his tie in the mirror over the mantlepiece.

“Ugh.” Tubbo slumped down on the couch. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Am I going, or not?” 

“You are.” Quackity flapped his hand in dismissal, and the slime left. Quackity himself sat down in one of the other chairs, opening up a laptop and beginning to type something.

“Getting that delivery sorted?” Schlatt asked, not looking like he was paying attention. “Half the men skipped out, so you’ll have to work around it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll call in a favor or two.” Quackity glanced up, as if remembering Tubbo was there. “You can go.”

Tubbo quickly stood and left, retreating to his room almost immediately. Once his door was closed and locked, he pulled out his phone and texted Tommy.

Bee: Dad gave me a babysitter, hows it going over there?

He only had to wait a few minutes for a reply.

Birb: Mum doesn’t know, let’s hope it stays that way.

Bee: So you’re going back to work?

Birb: Yeah.

Bee: That’s good, I’ll see you tomorrow, then?

Birb: Duh.

Birb: I’m guessing you’re dad’s driving?

Bee: Would assume so, 

Bee: night, Tommy

Birb: Night, Tubbo

Chapter Text

The call came in during lunch, of all times. 

Dream thought about ignoring it, but when he looked at the footage, there was no mistaking that there was clearly Syndicate involvement. So, him and his team begrudgingly set down their burgers and headed towards the scene. 

“Can’t this wait, like, five minutes?” George complained. “I wanted to eat.”

“Well, apparently the Syndicate doesn’t eat,” Sapnap said, ruffling George’s hair. “Why should you?”

“Guys, stop. This is the most clear evidence that the Syndicate is in that part of town, we can’t let this opportunity pass by.”

“Oh, look at me,” Sapnap said in a terrible falsetto, “I’m Dream, I’m in charge but all I ever do is yell at my friends for wanting to do other things than work.” Then he dropped the voice. “Yeah, I know this is important. To you. Could be a false alarm, like the other three hundred calls we’ve gotten like this.”

“Look, how about this - if this one’s a false lead again, we can go on a month long vacation, but if it’s not, then you can’t get after me ever again, alright?” Dream countered. “Good enough for you?”

“Sure.” The two bumped fists and kept walking, George still whining about his food.

“If it’s a false alarm, can we stop at that bakery near where the call came from for dessert? They’ve got really good scones,” he said, dragging his feet into the car.

“Yeah, we can do that, although I’m sure the whole block is closed because no matter what, there was a gang scuffle, so…” Sapnap shrugged. “Maybe we will, maybe we won’t.”

“George, see if you can get any word about if there’s weapons, if civilians are involved, that kind of thing, and add it to the list of sightings,” Dream ordered, turning on the siren and pulling out.

George nodded and pulled out his phone. The guy complained a lot, sure, but he knew how to do his job. 

About ten minutes later, they were at the scene that was already blocked off by police. George updated them that there were three fighters with guns and one with a sword. For a moment, Dream was wondering why someone had a sword before he turned the corner and saw fucking Protesilaus blocking the bullets with said sword. 

“Bet,” Dream whispered to Sapnap, who growled under his breath.

“Sorry Sap.” George quickly scrolled through the notes on his phone. “The one with the skull mask - Protilayus, or something like that. He’s usually only seen when there’s about to be a whole lotta carnage.”

“Great,” Sapnap hissed, still sore at his loss, and ran back to the police to start damage control.

“First thing on the list - try to lead him away,” Dream recited under his breath, picking up the pace but stopping still a safe distance away. There was someone laying in a pool of blood and glass on the sidewalk. “If he’s looking for someone specific, we’re better off redirecting rather than stopping him entirely.”

“Yeah, but how are we going to do that?” George asked, pocketing his phone. 

“I don’t know… cause a distraction?” Dream thought. “If we can get him away from the other gang as well as the innocents, then we should be good.”

Sapnap ran back up.

“They’re working on evacuating the other people in the diner. What’s our plan?”

“Distract him, apparently.” George gestured up the street to the distant figure, who had already defeated two of his opponents (with the help of several knives tucked under his cape) and was now working on the third. “Although no one knows how.”

“What if I just charge in?” Dream asked suddenly.

“What?!” Sapnap and George exclaimed at the same time.

“Dream, I’ve said it before, but I’m gonna ask again. Are you high on something?” George asked, one hand trying its best to cover his face. “You want to fight Protesilaus, an organic tank, with no plan?”

“Well, do you have a better idea?” Dream asked, pulling out his electric staff, praying to whatever god was out there that he would be able to stay alive at least long enough for the police to apprehend the others. “At least it’s half a plan.”

“A quarter of a plan.”

“Fine, a third.” Dream gave George a grin, and set off down the street.

As he got closer, the piglin paused briefly, smacking his opponent unconscious with the hilt of the sword before turning.

“You seem like you need a challenge,” Dream called, hoping he sounded cocky enough. “I’d be glad to provide one.”

Protesilaus raised his sword.

“Not for a hundred thousand dollars,” he called back, voice distorted by his skull mask. “I have better things to do.” He twisted on one foot and began to run, prompting Dream to chase him.

Maybe I can get him cornered, then stall long enough for backup to come.

The piglin wove through side streets and alleyways, obviously knowing the terrain better than Dream himself did. He followed pursuit for a few more turns before the alleyway they were currently in was blocked on one end by a tall chain link fence. 

Dream adjusted the grip on his staff, hoping that someone had charged it enough to work.

“Didn’t plan that, did you?”

The Syndicate member scoffed, sword shining violet in the dim light. Enchanted.

“Trust me, this is my plan.” He stepped to one side, but Dream stepped as well. “You were just dumb enough to fall for it.”

“Right.” Dream lunged forwards, staff arching for the piglin’s neck, but his enemy simply knocked it away with his sword.

The staff clattered onto the cement, far out of Dream’s reach, and he ducked under the slash aimed for his chest, landing an unexpected punch on the piglin’s wrist that made him curse, sword flying off behind Dream.

They both stood for a moment, weighing each other’s speed, the pros and cons of going forward or back.

When Dream finally moved, it wasn’t towards his staff. Oh no, he spun around to grab the sword, which was far heavier than he expected.

“You’re out of luck,” he spat, palms sweating so he had to adjust his grip. “I can use your weapon, but you can’t use mine.”

The Blade didn’t move, just folding his arms.

“You don’t think I planned for that?”

Dream frowned.

Then he looked down, half-expecting there to be an assault rifle pointed right at his head.

There was none, just a sickly green liquid seeping it between his fingers. Not sweat.

Dream was unconscious before he hit the ground.

“Is he okay?”

“Look, there’s his staff.” There were footsteps.

“Dream! Dream, wake up!”

Dream blearily opened his eyes, trying to get his bearings. 

"Wha-" he started before George and Sapnap were sitting in front of him, checking if he had any injuries.

"You are such an idiot," George told him, fingers prodding into Dream’s sides.

“Yeah, I’m your idiot.” Dream realized he was still holding the hilt of the sword and dropped it with a clatter, holding his hands away from his friends. “No one touch that, or me. There was something seriously powerful in that, it knocked me out.”

“What? That can’t be real.” George took a hold of Dreams elbow, inspecting the slight green tinge on his hands. “No anesthetic’s that powerful from just skin contact.” 

“Apparently, there is.” Dream looked around. “See where he might’ve gone?”

“Unfortunately, no. There’s some fabric and blood on the top of the fence, but that’s the closest evidence we have.” Sapnap stood up, brushing dust off his knees. “I’ll get forensics down here, then we can get you to a lab or something to see whatever stuff’s on that sword.”

“Just the hilt, so the blade should be safe,” Dream added, wriggling his fingers. Other than a slight stickiness, there was no sensation - no numbness, no tingling, no pins and needles. “How long was I out?”

“We’re not sure. You were gone for about half an hour, but we couldn’t find you until about fifteen minutes had gone by.” George inspected him closely, trying to find any other side effects.

"Well, that's one way to spend the day," Dream tried joking to lighten the mood. 

“He got away. More like a waste of time.” Sapnap scoffed with disdain.

“We got actual evidence,” George said, tilting his head to indicate the weapon still on his lap. “That’s the best lead we’ve gotten yet.”

"And, when I was chasing him, it seemed like he knew his way around this area. I think their base might be stationed somewhere around here," Dream added. “Plus, did you hear what he said before we ran off?”

“He had ‘something better to do’,” George recalled. “Does that mean there’ll be another attack like this?”

Sapnap put his hand under his chin.

“Hmm…. Maybe. We’ll have to keep an eye out, just in case.”

“Right.” Dream stood up unsteadily, and walked closer to the fence, trying to see details on the top. “George, add all this to the notes, and once we’re done with this, and I don’t have crap on my hands, let’s check out the security footage.”

George nodded and pulled out his phone to take notes while Sapnap put Dream's arm around his shoulder to carry some of his weight. While Dream was awake, and very much so, his head still spun and his limbs were reluctant to cooperate.

"And what about the bakery?" George asked, looking at the two expectantly. 

"I doubt it’ll be open,” Sapnap replied. “We can stop there tomorrow." 

The trio left the alleyway they were in and went back to the office. It seemed they had a lot of work cut out for them over the next few days.

—————

“Wilbur, stop just staring, we have a lot of things to do and we’re already behind because of yesterday!” Niki scolded, rushing around the bakery’s kitchen, trying to get things ready. 

It was only eight thirty in the morning and they had three different people coming in to gather their orders. Luckily, before Wilbur even arrived, Techno had the cake out and was finishing frosting it. So that left twelve dozen muffins, thirty fruit tarts and eight loaves of bread. Not to mention they still had the daily customers that they had to bake things for. They had Phil manning the register for the day while the rest of them worked in the kitchen. 

“I’m not staring!” Wilbur shot back. “Get after Tommy, he’s the one picking fights with Ranboo.” 

Tommy looked up, offended, but not denying it. Ranboo was pulling things out of the oven to cool while Tubbo slid things in. 

“Wilbur, there’s sourdough that still needs baking,” Ranboo said quickly, holding two loaf trays above Tubbo’s head to slide onto the cooling rack. “I couldn’t finish all the rounds yesterday.”

“Niki, can you do that?” Wilbur grabbed several packed boxes, heading for the front of the bakery. “I’ll get whatever’s already packed.”

“Sure, how much is there?” 

“Several loaves’ worth. There was some I started yesterday, so I should do that now. Tommy, take this.” Ranboo changed directions, handing his oven mitts to Tommy and grabbing a couple bowls off a different shelf.

Wilbur came back in, observing the scene. 

“Tubbo, clear off the fryer,” he ordered. “We just got a scone order.”

“From who?” Niki was rolling out a thin sheet of dough for the tarts, but paused. “None of the regulars buy scones.”

“No, it’s those detectives who worked on the diner fight yesterday.” Wilbur quickly mixed up a batch of dough and turned on the fryer, letting the oil heat up. “Apparently, one of them likes the scones.” 

“Detectives? The ones looking for the Syndicate?” Ranboo looked up, sharing a confused glance with Niki. “Why’re they here?”

Niki shrugged.

“They like the scones, I suppose. We don’t often get serving orders.”

“That’s because most things take a bit to make,” Wilbur said. “Niki, will you get it? You’re the most presentable.”

Niki shook her head.

“Sorry Wil, I’m trying to get these tart shells done.” With one end of her rolling pin, she gestured to Tommy. “He can do it. It’s not too hard, you just take the order out to their table and leave.”

Tommy paused, midway through snitching one of the miniature, cooling muffins.

“What am I doing?” He asked through a full mouth.

“Tommy, we’re selling, not eating.” Ranboo saved the rest of the batch by piling the muffins into a box and sliding it onto a shelf. “When Wilbur’s done, you’ll get the scones onto a plate and take them out to whatever table Phil tells you to.”

“Plate? What happened to the dishes from yesterday?”

Niki rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.

“Stop asking things and do your job, Tommy.”

Tommy huffed, but grabbed a large plate and dodged over to Wilbur, who was frying up the orders. 

He only had to wait a few minutes before the slabs of fried dough were flipped onto his plate, and Wilbur pushed him away.

“Go,” he urged, “You need to be back soon.”

Tommy quickly -but carefully to not drop the order- headed out to the front and towards the table Phil pointed him towards. 

There were three men sitting at the table, several papers cluttering up the space so Tommy wasn’t sure where to put the plate. Half-drunk cups of coffee put rings on what looked like notes.

“-the lab results aren’t back yet, but I don’t blame them. How can you test something we’ve never seen before?”

“Hi, um, could you move some of your stuff?” Tommy hesitantly asked. “I need to-”

“Oh, sorry.” One of the men, with dark hair bushed back by a white headband, stacked some of the papers to take up less space. “Thanks.”

“And I didn’t see it up close like you did,” One of the others continued, “but it must be pretty old if it’s enchanted and netherite. All of the scraps were confiscated as part of the treasury years ago.”

“So whoever he is, he must have been around a while, maybe even a recent immigrant who doesn’t like the customs laws. I’m just spitballing, George, don’t give me that look. Do you want a tip or something?”

Tommy blinked, realizing that he hadn’t set the scones down yet.

"Oh, uh, no, sorry. It's just that. You're…" Tommy had to blink through his confusion because, that couldn’t be them… could it? "You're the Dream Team!"

"Oh, uh… yeah we are." The one in the green hoodie said, rubbing his neck in what seemed to be embarrassment. 

But right before Tommy could ask for an autograph, Phil was behind him, gently taking the plate out of his hands and setting it on the table.

“I’m sorry about him,” he quickly said to the men at the table. “Tommy, you need to head back to the kitchen, our schedule is too tight for this.” 

And with that Phil was leading Tommy back to the kitchen with a steady hand on his back. 

“Dude, I wanted to talk to them,” Tommy protested quietly. “It’s the Dream Team!”

“Yes, and you are working.” Phil gave the three a suspicious glance. “I’m just wondering what they’re doing.”

“Talking about a lab? And netherite? They must be working on something to do with what happened yesterday.”

“Netherite?”

“Um, yeah. Something they found, I think.” Tommy shook his head. “Wait, I’m not just going to tell you everything I heard. It’s probably classified.”

“Yeah, probably,” Phil said stiffly. “Go back to the kitchen, Tommy.”

When Tommy rounded the corner, he saw Phil taking out his phone.

But all thoughts of classified information and famous detectives was driven from his mind when Niki commandeered him to help cut out tart shells and mix up the berry filling.

“Figures,” she grumbled, pushing down the cutter harder than was probably necessary and smacking Tommy’s hand when he snitched a stray piece. “We get a massive order for the mayor’s brunch, and we barely get it done because someone decided to leave four hours early.”

“Hey, complain to the cops. They’re the ones who barricaded the whole street off.” Wilbur poured - well, not poured, but it was close enough - bread dough into a loaf pan, sliding it next to its fellows by the oven. “And these won’t have to be ready for another hour.”

“So we have to hurry.” Niki managed to get all the tart shells into their cups within five minutes, sliding them into the oven right after Tubbo pulled out another four dozen muffins.

“Right, that’s the muffins done.” Wilbur crossed it off the list. “With the tarts in, we can keep doing the sourdough and finish the bread after the tarts get out. How much time does that put us at?”

“Barely enough,” Niki replied, “but Ranboo got the rest of the brunch orders done yesterday, so it could be worse.”

“Good. Tubbo, you did the starter yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Two more batches, there’s flour and water in one of the coolers you can use. Ranboo, shape the rounds from yesterday while I-” Wilbur paused when something dinged on his phone. “That’s for the cake, so do that and I’ll be back in a few.” He ducked under Ranboo’s arms, hefting the large box for the wedding cake into his own grasp. “Right, if any of you trip me, I’ll murder you and roast your body in the oven.”

“Noted,” Ranboo cracked back. “But all our pans are being used.”

“Then take out some of the loaves that we already did and wash them. Quickly.”

Ranboo dumped the bread loaves onto a cooling rack and handed the pans to Tommy to wash. 

“Why do I have to wash them? Wilbur asked you to!”

“Well, unless you know how to make sourdough, you’ll be doing the boring bits,” Ranboo retorted.

“Maybe all of it’s boring.” Tommy plugged the sink, turning on the hot water.

By the time he finished washing and drying the dishes, Ranboo was already putting more dough into them and putting them into the oven to bake. 

“So, what’s this brunch thing Wilbur’s mentioned?” Tubbo asked offhandedly, adding the last box of muffins onto the stack.

“The mayor’s holding a brunch for the important people in the city,” Ranboo explained. “Something to do with ‘collaboration in the light of recent events’.”

“Fancy legal talk.” Tommy snorted derisively. “My favorite.”

“I frankly think it’s stupid,” Techno said from where he was mixing the tart filling. 

Both Tommy and Tubbo jumped, having both forgotten he was there.

“Trust me, if I know anything, it’s that the mayor’s up to something.” Techno gestured dramatically with his mixing spoon. “No leader ever invites their enemies over to a party without having one or two knives up their sleeves.” The other oven beeped, and Techno pulled the tarts out, beginning to add the filling to the cups. 

“But if it’s for ‘important people’, then why would any of them be his enemies?” Tubbo asked from where he stood, hands buried in sourdough.

“Any of them could be elected and replace him in the fall,” Techno explained. “And that makes them his enemies if he’s as power-hungry as I suspect.”

“The mayor’s not power-hungry,” Tommy defended. “His whole spiel when he was running was how he would ‘listen to the people,’ and ‘make decisions to benefit everyone’.”

“Yeah, and how can he do that if he’s not in a position of power?” Techno shrugged, spoon grating against the metal of the bowl. “He might be coming from a good place, but power corrupts, and now he might be thinking it’s better to take no chances for the greater good. The one versus the many.”

“And what if he’s not? What if this is just some innocent brunch? What then?” Tubbo shot from across the room, washing his hands after finishing up with the dough. 

“Tommy….” Niki narrowed her eyes in warning. “Don’t get him started.”

“I think the mayor’s planning to turn the guests on each other like a dogfight,” Techno said. “taking out a hundred birds with one stone.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then I’m wrong... For now.” Techno turned around, finishing with the tarts. “Here. These are done.”

Niki scowled, but took the pan, putting it back in the oven.

“We’ve just got to make the food,” Ranboo said to appease them both. “You don’t have to go overboard, but you don’t have to poison them either. Just do your job.” He added a bowl to the sink, earning a glare from Tommy. “We’re almost done, and then we can just do maintenance and delivery the rest of the day.”

“Delivery? To where?”

“The city center, duh.” Ranboo grinned briefly, taping the stack of muffin boxes together. “Maybe if you’re very good, one of us will take you.”

"What about me?" Tubbo chimed in, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

"Not unless you ask your dad," someone said from Wilbur's desk. 

Right. Tubbo's babysitter. What was his name again? Charles? 

"But Charlie!” Tubbo complained. "This would be the first delivery trip I would go on! Please don't tell him? He wouldn't let me go."

"Nope!" Charlie exclaimed, popping the p. 

"I'll give you a muffin for free." Tubbo said, tone dropping to a more serious one.

"Tubbo!" Niki protested at the same time Charlie said, "deal."

"Why did we let him back here again?" Wilbur complained, beginning to put ingredients away. 

"Because otherwise Tubbo wouldn't be allowed to work today and we would be understaffed," Niki replied, whipping up more bread dough. “It would be completely fine normally if someone hadn’t closed up early yesterday.”

“Not my fault!” Wilbur shouted, slamming a cupboard shut. “I wasn’t even there!”

Niki nodded gravely.

“Precisely. It’s bad form to leave your workplace for no reason.”

"Techno was here!" Wilbur pointed accusingly at his twin.

"I was on break." Techno replied, dumping his bowl and spoon into the sink and earning a snicker from Ranboo, Tubbo and Tommy. “Can’t hold me accountable.”

"That doesn't change the fact that you, Wilbur, were left to supervise." Niki said. "Besides, why did you leave in the first place?"

“Wanted to stretch my legs.”

“Oh, I should fire you,” Niki said, slamming a pair of loaf tins on the counter. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh yeah, and you left… why, again? Because ‘something came up’. Something. You didn’t even say why,” Wilbur complained, switching places with Ranboo so the lanky worker could grab the bag of powdered sugar.  

"It was a delivery!" She exclaimed. "And I would've told you that if you didn't ask so many questions when I go out for unplanned deliveries."

“Not to mention - then you texted Techno, but he showed up when you were already gone? What kind of planning is that?” Wilbur slid around Tommy, catching the bag that Ranboo threw to him while he opened up the frosting mixer. “He didn’t even know you’d left!”

"Well maybe being ignorant runs in the family." Niki snapped, earning a muffled "hey!" from Phil in the other room. 

“Low blow, Niki,” Techno said, shaking his head. “Low blow.”

“Yeah, one of us has to have inherited the brain cells.”

“My money’s on Techno,” Ranboo whispered, and Tubbo burst into laughter.

“Hey, no, you know what they say.” Wilbur shrugged, raising his hands. “Birds of a feather flock together.”

“Yeah, birds.” Techno snickered at Wilbur’s dirty look. “I’m not breakable enough to be one of those.”

“No, but you’re thick-headed enough to be one,” Wilbur retorted. “Don’t think I don’t remember the time you ran headfirst into the back door because Dad had just cleaned the glass.”

"For the record, you slammed that door in my face. Don't you twist the story."

"I'm not twisting anything! You could've stopped but you kept going. Either way, you ran into the door."

"Both of you quit it." Niki scolded, packing up the last of the boxes. "Wilbur, you and Ranboo take the deliveries."  

“Aw,” Tubbo and Tommy said in unison.

“Tommy, keep washing the dishes so we’ll have enough.” Wilbur turned on the mixer and stepped away, counting the order boxes. “The tarts are in the oven?”

“Yep. The muffins are all done as well, so we just need to make up the bread. The brunch starts at ten, so you should probably be there at nine thirty.” Niki wrote something down on a sticky note, passing it to Wilbur. “The van’s gassed up, right?”

“Should be, no one’s taken it out in a month.” Wilbur stuck the yellow scrap into his pocket, emptying the mixer bowl into several more piping bags and sliding them into the cooler. “When’ll the tarts be out?”

“Ten minutes. Tubbo, get out a couple boxes and write tarts on the side, will you?” Niki nodded her head to the flattened containers in one corner, scraping dough out into the tins. 

—————

Ten minutes later, the timer beeped and Tommy pulled out the tarts and placed them into the boxes that Tubbo prepared. Wilbur took the boxes and helped Ranboo load everything into the van. Once that was done, they started their drive to the pavilion that the meeting was at. 

“What really happened yesterday?” Wilbur asked Ranboo who gave him a confused glance. 

“Wh- what do you mean?” Ranboo glanced out the window when they passed the diner.

“I can tell when Phil and Techno are hiding something. So.” Wilbur sighed quietly, then spared a glance at Ranboo. “Tell me what really happened, please? I was supposed to be in charge of you three because I’m your boss, but I left Techno in charge. That was… wrong of me. So I just want to know if any of you are lying about getting hurt.”

Ranboo was taken back by Wilbur’s apology. Mostly because, well, it didn’t seem necessary. 

“Oh, uh. Yeah, no one got hurt besides Techno, but that’s because he stayed behind to make sure no one followed us when we escaped. Uhm, we also didn’t see anything, although we were there when someone got thrown out the window. Luckily Phil blocked us with his wings.” Ranboo fidgeted slightly as he told Wilbur his own version of events. “I don’t know what they would’ve kept from you, though.”

“It’s probably nothing,” Wilbur nodded. “Thanks, Ranboo.”

They drove for a little longer in silence when Wilbur spoke up again.

“You’re getting along well with Tommy and Tubbo, right?” he asked.

Now Ranboo was double confused. Wilbur never worried about anyone but himself and his business. So why was he worried about those two? They’d only worked at the bakery for a few weeks.

“I guess? They’re fun to be around, although they keep eating the goods. That might be a problem later on, but…” Ranboo glanced nervously at Wilbur. 

“That’s good, that’s good,” Wilbur muttered. “Just, try not to scare them away, alright? Not that you can be scary, but… it’s actually kinda fun, having them around the bakery. Even if it is only for the summer.”

Ranboo nodded, focusing his eyes back in front of them. The city center was growing as the van approached, the small crowd on the side lawn visible even from a distance. 

With Wilbur in the lead, the pair reached the pavilion in record time, setting the boxes out on a table reserved for such a purpose and beginning to take out the smaller boxes of specific goods. About halfway through, the mayor walked up, smiling the same vaguely fake smile he used in press conferences. 

“Hello!” he said cheerfully. “You’re the catering delivery?” 

Wilbur nodded, dealing with an unruly piece of tape and unable to spare the braincells to reply verbally. 

“Wonderful! You guys are welcome to stay if you’d like!” the mayor bounced idly on the balls of his feet, twisting a ring around his pinky. “I mean, this brunch isn’t anything formal or whatever.”

“We’re good,” Wilbur said, unloading another box. “Thank you for the offer, though. But we really do need to get back to the bakery, we’re sort of on a tight schedule right now.”

“Oh, come on, just for an hour or two? They can surely fare well without two of their employees.”

“We’re short staffed as it is,” Wilbur replied, flattening the last box and gesturing for Ranboo to head for the van. “And I really need to get back to make sure no one ends up burning down the bakery.”

When he turned, the mayor was standing there. Several feet taller than Wilbur, or even Ranboo. Wilbur started to walk, but the mayor shifted to block the avian’s path.

“Come on,” he said, voice wheedling, “You won’t regret it.”

When he blocked Ranboo, though, the enderian panicked and kicked the mayor in the kneecaps.

“You little-” The mayor doubled and hissed something under his breath, tail lashing. “That’s entirely uncalled for!”

“Wilbur, run!” Ranboo said, pushing at Wilbur, who wasn’t going to let himself be pushed.

“Hey, hey, woah, chill out.” Wilbur was now panicking as well. Ranboo was normally by far the most calm person he knew. Why now was he freaking out? Wilbur couldn’t focus on that now. He reached down to help the mayor get up. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened.”

The mayor winced, laughing as he got up.

“Oh, it’s alright. Your friend there’s a new arrival to the Overworld, maybe?”

Wilbur paused, then realized that… Ranboo had been talking in Enderian. 

“⍙⟟⌰⏚⎍⍀, ⍀⎍⋏!” was what he had actually said. 

Ranboo, still tugging on Wilbur’s arm, paused. 

“...Yeah,” Wilbur said, completely lying. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t think he knew what was happening.”

“Wilbur,” Ranboo whispered in enderian, “Wilbur, we can’t stay here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Wilbur said, and turned back to the mayor. “I am really sorry, you know, but I need to get back.” 

“Well, if you really have to.” The mayor seemed disappointed, but he didn’t fight anymore. “Thank you for coming, come back if you feel so inclined. We’d be glad to have you.” 

Wilbur nodded and retreated, keeping a solid grip on Ranboo just in case he had another temporary fit of madness.

In the van, Wilbur made sure the doors were locked before he turned to Ranboo.

“What the hell, man?”

Ranboo reddened and looked away, fiddling with his hair.

“It didn’t seem… I dunno, it just seemed suspicious. Like the mayor wanted something.”

“Hopefully he doesn’t press charges.” Wilbur gave him a side-eye. “I could’ve gotten out of there without you kicking the mayor.”

Ranboo ducked his head.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you panicked,” Wilbur replied, turning down a street. “But next time, give me a warning before you kick someone in the knees.”

“Next time, let's just set the boxes down and leave. So we don’t get sacrificed at a cult or something.”

“I don't think we were being sacrificed, that's a little dramatic," Wilbur said, but if he accelerated more than a little over the speed limit, then that was for him to worry about. "Are we going to tell Niki and Tech?" He asked, glancing at Ranboo. 

"I dunno. I kind of kicked the mayor." 

"That's true. But let's not tell Tommy and Tubbo. That would give them too many ideas."

Ranboo nodded, but didn’t say anything, looking out the window.

“Do you think it was a good idea?” He asked finally, when they were just pulling up to the bakery. “Hiring them, I mean?”

“I definitely think that we needed their energy around, but I’m not sure. There’s a lot of stuff going on around here, what with the gangs and everything. I mean, you guys almost got caught in the middle of a Syndicate gang battle.” Wilbur parked the van and turned it off. “The only thing we can do now is protect them from getting involved.”

Ranboo nodded solemnly, and followed him inside.

—————

“Wiiiiiillbuuuuuur!” Tommy’s absolutely ear-splitting shout could be heard through two rooms and more than a few closed doors. “Niki’s making me wash the dishes again!”

Ranboo, who wasn’t an avian, winced at the volume. Wilbur, who was an avian, was unaffected. 

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have thrown that cupcake at Tubbo,” Niki scolded. “Next time, you should think before you act.”

“She’s so mean,” Tommy whimpered pathetically, crumbling dramatically to the ground as Ranboo and Wilbur walked in.

“She’s not mean, Tommy,” Tubbo chimed in. “Besides, your spider is stupid.”

Tommy made an offended gasp. “Shroud did nothing to you!”

“Shroud broke my ankle when I was twelve, the little git has it coming.” Tubbo had frosting all over his face, probably due to the mixing thing in his hand. Or maybe from the aforementioned cupcake. 

“Is this a live spider we’re talking about?” Ranboo pulled his apron off the hook, tying it back on. “Or something else?”

“It’s stuffed,” Tommy admitted, peeking over the side of the counter. “But Shroud’s real to me!”

“Shroud can be thrown in the trash.” Tubbo continued- “Just last week, he seemed to be staring into my soul, it’s like the thing’s possessed or something.”

“He is not possessed, and if he was, he could care less about your soul.” Tommy snapped back. “Your soul is tainted by bees anyways.”

“Maybe because, oh, I don’t know, I am a bee?”

“Yeah, the dumbest bug to ever exist,” Tommy shot back.

“At least I actually know how to use my wings.” 

“Low blow, Tubso, low blow.”

Tubbo’s wings buzzed, shaking off loose flour and raising him a foot or so off the ground.

“It’s low because I’m all the way up here,” He said snippily, dodging the spoon aimed for his head.

“Boys!” Niki grabbed Tubbo by the scruff, yanking him down to earth. “Quit your grandstanding and do your jobs!”

With a grumble, the two begrudgingly got back to work. It was almost noon by then, which meant it was almost time for their break. Tommy wasn’t excited for today’s break, seeing how wonderfully yesterday’s went.

Niki, probably sensing the tension, glanced up at the clock, busy mopping up the frosting on the floor.

“Maybe we should stay in today,” she suggested. “The diner will be closed until they can get new glass, and the other restaurants will probably not be open for a couple more days, just to let things cool down. Did any of you bring a lunch?”

“Didn’t think of that,” Wilbur said under his breath, flipping through papers on his desk. “That’s usually how it goes, isn’t it? Things have been quiet so long I forgot about the other places’ policies.”

“I don’t have anything,” Ranboo said, putting away dried bowls in one of the higher cupboards. “I haven’t gone shopping in a few days, so it’s not like I’ve a lot of stuff on hand.”

“I’ve got Tubbo’s lunch right here!” Charlie chimed in. 

“Yeah, I am not eating that,” Tubbo replied, looking at the slime covered lunchbox. “I’d rather go hungry.”

“I forgot mine in the car,” Tommy admitted, glaring at the ground.

Niki sighed good-naturedly, putting the mop back in the corner.

“Guess we’ll have to make something. Have any allergies?”

“Nope.” Tommy accidentally splashed his front with water, and tried to wring his shirt out while he pulled out the drain stopper. 

“Not really,” Tubbo said, smirking at Charlie’s disgruntled expression. “What? If you hadn’t put your goopy hands all over my sandwich, everything would be fine! If you’re that upset, you eat it. I’m making something else.”

“Do you think pizza would work?”

Tubbo shrugged.

“We had it yesterday, but I don’t care.” 

“Hey, Phil, come take a break,” Niki called to the front of the cafe. 

A few minutes later, Phil walked back to the kitchen.

“Are we going someplace together?” He asked, wings stretching out.

“Not after yesterday,” Wilbur said, searching through the fridge. “Hey, Niki, do you have the sauce stuff up in your apartment?”

“I do, I’ll run and grab it, you guys start making the dough, I’ll be right back,” Niki replied, heading up the stairs.

“Have you made pizza before?” Tubbo asked, blinking at the ease in which Wilbur stirred up the crust. “Like, from scratch?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur replied, mixing the flour in. “I do it all the time. Phil, can you flour that counter, so we can roll out the dough?”

“Of course, mate,” Phil replied, pulling out flour and sprinkling it on the clean counter. “Why do you ask, Tubbo?”

“Dunno.” Tubbo shrugged. “My dad just always gets it frozen or something. It’s not like I’ve had home-made pizza a whole bunch.”

“I’ve never had homemade pizza ever,” Tommy said, looking over Wilbur’s shoulder. “Mum always gets it from a pizzeria, I don’t think she’s ever learned how to make the dough.”

“Heathens, the both of you then,” Wilbur proclaimed. “Opinions on toppings?”

“I like pepperoni,” Tubbo said. “That and mushrooms. Anything else, I’ll eat but those are my favorites.”

“I like everything,” Tommy added. “Except pineapple. That’s stupid, who decided that was a good idea?”

“Talk about that, and you’ll get a full-on family feud,” Phil warned, washing his hands. “I wouldn’t suggest it.”

“My mum mostly gets cheese or veggie though,” Tommy said, scraping shapes into the flour. “‘Cause we’re both avians.”

“Techno likes sausage, like a complete savage,” Wilbur said unhelpfully.

“Just sausage?” Tubbo asked, mouth agape. “That’s strange.”

“Fuckin’ strange.” Tommy nodded in agreement.

“It’s four-meat pizza, not an entire link I’m chewing on in the dark. You think I’m weird, Phil likes his with anchovy, and Ranboo eats it cold like a disgrace.” Techno snorted, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to worry about warming it up,” Ranboo said defensively. “And it’s less greasy.”

“If you don’t want your hands greasy, then use a fork,” Tubbo replied. 

“Like the pussy you are,” Tommy added.

“I like it cold,” Ranboo snapped without any real bite. He was leaning against the counter, hands braced on the edge. “You’re the type of person who likes onions, I bet.”

“Oh dear.” Niki giggled, setting various cans and small containers on the clean counter. “Fighting about toppings again?”

“Blame Wil,” Phil said. “He’s the one who brought it up.”

“Don’t push this onto me!” Wilbur put a hand to his heart in mock offense. “I was simply thinking of the people!”

“Well, let’s either vote, which would get us nowhere, or just go with pepperoni. Everyone okay with that?”

“Works for me,” Tubbo replied, followed by a nod from Tommy.

Phil, Techno and Wilbur all nodded, sharing a mischievous smile while Ranboo gave a short, “i’m fine with that.”

“I don’t trust any of you three,” Niki decided.

“That’s a reasonable statement,” Techno said with a tusky grin. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”

“Tubbo, go grab the pepperoni. It should be in my fridge, in the small drawer.” Niki set the can down, rifling through drawers for a can opener. “Oh, can you grab the cheese as well and put it in the fridge down here?”

“Sure.” Tubbo rubbed crusted frosting off his chin, heading for the stairs.

Charlie went to follow him but was stopped by Niki.

“No you don’t, you can stay here. That’s the only entrance, he’s not going to get hurt.”

Wilbur frowned.

“That’s weird, isn’t it? That Tubbo’s got a ‘babysitter’ who no one knows?”

“It’s not that weird,” Tommy said. “Usually when something happens, his dad sends a new employee to watch him. I've helped scare off a total of fifteen babysitters by now.”

“Tubbo must be nearly eighteen, though. Why would he need someone looking after him?” Wilbur looked more confused, as if this wasn’t average business standard or something. “And, for the record, what does his dad do?”

“Don’t know, some sort of big business. All I know is that the man’s loaded.” Tommy nodded to Charlie. “Ask him.”

The slime was unbothered when all eyes went to him. 

“Oh, I was just hired, I don’t know the whole of it,” Charlie said. “Schlatt’s a powerful man, that’s all I can say.”

Phil choked on his own spit.

“Schlatt?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Tommy said, and left. 

—————

“Never heard of a businessman named Schlatt,” Wilbur remarked.

“That’s because he’s not,” Phil said grimly. “He’s involved in some nasty stuff, sure, but not in any legitimate things.”

“Does Tubbo know?” Techno demanded of the slime, who shrugged.

“First rule,” Charlie said lightly, “don’t say anything to him. Second rule, keep him safe.”

“Why can’t Tubbo know?” Wilbur asked, confused.

“Don’t know,” the slime shrugged. “I follow the rules, not question them.”

“How old is this pepperoni?”

Everyone jumped, as Tubbo had appeared in the doorway with a greasy container.

“Why’d you all get so quiet?” He asked, looking around.

“They were just asking about slimes,” Charlie said smoothly, running one finger over the wood of the wall and leaving behind a faintly green residue. “We’re not very common, not in human form, at least.”

“Oh, okay.” Tubbo hopped over the wet patch on the floor, putting the pepperoni and cheese bags in the fridge as Tommy came back from the bathroom.

“It’s not too old, I’ve just used it a lot,” Niki explained, then checked her watch. “Right, I’ll go collect dishes. Tommy, the pizza pans are in my kitchen, in the thin cupboard under the counter.”

“On it,” Tommy said, racing upstairs. 

“How do you guys know each other?” Phil asked Tubbo once Tommy was out of earshot. 

“Oh! We met when we were kids, since his dad knew mine and we didn’t really have anyone else to hang out with.” 

“What happened to his dad?” Wilbur asked, voice dropping in realization. “You said ‘knew’ as in past tense.”

“Oh.” Tubbo shifted his feet. “He was caught in the middle of something bad and… uh… he died. That’s the extent of what I know. Tommy still… it’s kind of a touchy subject for him. It happened three years ago.”

Phil and Techno exchanged a glance.

“That’s good to know,” Phil said. “Otherwise one of us might’ve said something callous. I suppose that’s why your dad was so worried yesterday? Because of what happened?”

“I guess so.” Tubbo shrugged. “He’s said before how he doesn’t want me getting mixed up in that stuff, because it’s dangerous.”

“It can be dangerous, that’s true,” Niki said, beginning to roll out the dough Wilbur handed her. “And maybe that’s why I’d suggest getting a job somewhere else - we’d be fine on our own, plus we can always hire others looking for jobs.”

“No!” Tubbo replied hastily. “No, we’re fine, we don’t need another job. We don’t want another job. Besides,” he gave a small chuckle to try and lighten the mood. “We like living on the edge.” He kicked at the ground, going silent.

“Well, none of us can decide for you, except for Wil and Niki, who you technically work for.” Phil set the empty bowl in the sink, peeling open the lid of one of the cans and handing it to Wilbur. “If you want to stay, then you don’t have to leave.”

“Yeah…” Tubbo replied, leaning his back against the fridge door. 

They were saved from an uncomfortable silence when Tommy bounded down the stairs, nearly tripping over himself. 

“I found the pans!” He said, brandishing the metal disks like they were shields. “Niki, you have a lot of cutting boards.”

“People keep giving me cutting boards,” she grumbled in response. “Just because I bake doesn’t mean I don’t have other hobbies.”

“Cutting boards are cheap. In this economy, none of us can afford getting you… I dunno, a greenhouse or something.” Wilbur sorted through a ring of measuring spoons, eventually picking one and grabbing a spice bottle that sat next to Phil. “It’s not like I’m asking for a guitar every birthday.”

“Those are different from a cutting board, and are a musical instrument,” Niki snipped. “I wouldn’t object to some flower seeds and a new pot.”

“According to Wilbur, the economy hates gardening,” Ranboo said. “You’ll have to settle for some very stain-able cutting boards instead.”

“Okay, then. Every time someone gives me a cutting board, I’ll sell it, and eventually I’ll have enough money to buy something useful.”

“Cutting boards are useful,” Techno intervened. “You cut things on them so you don’t get ugly knife marks on your tables or counters.”

“Yeah, well if you keep getting them, I’ll start buying more knives. Those have more uses than protecting just a counter,” Niki replied, a strange glint in her eyes as she laid the dough out on the pans. 

“Murder is also not accepted by the economy, Niki.” Ranboo tilted his head thoughtfully. “Does hunting count as murder? Whatever.”

“Knives aside, you only ever need so many cutting boards,” Niki said, and snapped her fingers at Ranboo. “You, unhelpful person. Grab the cheese and pepperoni.”

“Oh, so rude.” Ranboo tossed his head, going around Tommy to look through the fridge. 

“Here, the sauce is done.” Wilbur paused a rubber spatula and the bowl of sauce to Niki, who began to slather it on the pizza. 

“Before we continue, let’s talk about the elephant in the room,” Niki ventured to say after a moment. “How are you two really feeling about working in this side of town? Because if you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, we’d be more than happy to help you find a better job.”

“Stop asking that!” Tubbo said, hiding his face in his hands. “We made a choice, and we’re going to stick with it.”

“Yeah!” Tommy added. “And while Wilbur might be a bitch, the rest of you are really nice.”

Wilbur gave a short “hey!” and slumped in on himself, glaring at the younger avian.

“This is the only place we can go,” Tubbo added more softly. “We’re not going to give up that easily.”

“You’d have to fire us to get rid of us.” Tommy folded his arms stubbornly, wings fluffing up. “If you want us to go, just say so instead of pretending to care about our safety.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Tommy demanded, hands clutching his middle like he was going to throw up. “Why do you care so much?”

There was a long, silent moment.

“You see-” Niki started but was cut off by Phil.

“We’re just worried. You’re younger than any of us here. Ranboo may be closer to your age, but he’s grown up around this area. You haven’t.” he crossed the room to be closer, at a distance where he could touch Tubbo or Tommy but far enough that he didn’t seem to hover. “We don’t want to continue putting you two in positions you don’t need to be in.”

“Need,” Tubbo mumbled. “I need to get out of the house sometimes. I need to meet people besides my dad’s sketchy friends.”

“I don’t-” Tommy began to say, but seemed to be struggling on getting out the words. “I’m sick of people trying to protect me.” He rubbed at his eyes, letting out a dry chuckle. “I know Tubbo feels the same.”

“We’re too used to people not wanting us around,” Tubbo said, obviously understanding where this was going. “They try to disguise it as being worried, or just… ignore us, push us away.”

“If you’re going to do anything, if you don’t want us around…” Tommy took in a shuddering breath. “Then just say it. Fire us, tell us to go home, it doesn’t matter.”

Both boys had dropped their gazes down to the floor, shoulders drooping. Phil shared a look with Niki and Wilbur, who both looked taken aback. Techno let out a soft rumble.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Phil said softly, effectively getting both boys’ attention. “We don’t want you gone, we would never want you gone. Hell, I’ve only known you for two days and I’ve already grown a liking for you. So don’t worry, if you don’t want to go anywhere, you aren’t going anywhere.”

Tommy let out a soft, warbling sound, and sank to his feet, wings curled around him. Tubbo’s expression didn’t change, but his body language relaxed by quite a bit, and his antenna twitched once or twice.

“Thank you,” Tubbo said quietly, managing to get Tommy standing again. The pair stood hand-in-hand, as if against the world. 

“This is very sweet, and all,” Niki said. “But I’ll need you to move so I can get the pizzas in and we can eat.”

Phil stepped out of the way, nervous about touching Tommy’s wings in case the feathers broke. He herded the boys over to the stools that stood at the edge of the kitchen and sat them down. Tubbo was still, but Tommy fidgeted where he sat, nervously combing through the brittle, fraying edges of his reddish feathers.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy blurted out after a moment. “If I did something wrong.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Phil said, voice still soft. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you don’t need to apologize.”

“He’s right, kid,” Techno said from behind Phil. “I don’t know what you think you did wrong, but you didn’t. We aren’t mad at you.”

“Okay. Okay.” Tommy sniffled, but was finally calming down. “That’s- yeah.”

“What about you, Tubbo?” Ranboo asked, taking a cautious step forward. “You seem… tense. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tubbo said quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Wilbur stayed where he was standing, arms folded around himself, leaning against a wall. Niki placed the pizzas in the oven and set the kitchen timer. 

It was quiet for a bit, as if no one was sure what to say.

“You were asking about how me and Tommy met,” Tubbo said after several minutes, tracing patterns on the counter behind him. “But how did you guys meet?”

“Oh, uhm,” Ranboo started, then made a face. “Anyone?”

“Well, you already know that Phil, Wilbur and I are family,” Techno began. “I was adopted when I was a kid, so I don’t remember the nether much.”

“I met Wilbur at a different job of his,” Niki said with a shrug. “We opened the bakery around - what was it, ten months after graduation?”

“About.”

“What about you?” Tubbo’s eyes flicked up to Ranboo, who looked away nervously. 

“Don’t remember. Something about crossing over from the End, it messed with my head. A damaged portal, I think. I can’t remember what happened to whoever I was with, either.”

“He’s missing a few brain cells,” Techno said affectionately. “I found him in the garage while Phil was gone on a trip.”

“What, did you just break into his garage because you were lost?” Tommy asked with only a little bit of his usual bite.

“It… it was raining,” Ranboo mumbled. “And the garage door was open.”

“O-oh…”

“It doesn’t really matter, though.” Ranboo ducked his head as if trying to hide. “I can never remember anyway.”

“Oh,” Tubbo replied.

“Alright guys, enough backstory, lunch is out and ready.” Niki said, pulling out the pizzas and laying them on the counter.

Without another word, everyone got up and dished themselves some pizza, all of them leaving the conversation with more questions than they had answers.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Tubbo was making his way down the stairs to find his dad when his phone buzzed.

It was a message from…. Niki?

Niki: Wilbur’s sick today and I have an appointment - you don’t need to come in today.

Tubbo frowned, but put his phone back, turning to go back upstairs. Maybe he could call Tommy, and they could mess around in an online game. 

Walking past Schlatt’s ‘conference room’, however, Tubbo heard voices, and couldn’t resist the impulse to eavesdrop.

He peeked through the cracked door, trying to be as quiet as possible so Quackity wouldn’t boot him out.

“I don’t know what has you coming all this way,” Schlatt said, spinning a pen through his fingers. “I’m a businessman, nothing more.”

“You’re a crook,” a raspy, oddly familiar voice said. It was dark in the conference room, but Tubbo still caught the silhouette of more than one person. “Playing whatever side suits you.”

“Eh, can you claim any different?” Schlatt set the pen down, steepling his hands. “I do my work, keep the underbelly happy, and the mayor looks the other way. Why does that concern you?”

One of the strangers, a hulking figure, growled slightly.

“You’ve gotten people killed for your own gain,” the stranger said. His voice sounded like it was rumbling through the ground.

They’ve all got voice distorters, Tubbo realized in the back of his mind.

“And what can you prove? You’re a baseball bat compared to everyone else’s bullet. Dangerous, and powerful, yes, but messy. Not the type to go sifting through records for hours or days on end.”  

“I don’t need to sift through records when I have men on the inside,” the man replied, and it sounded like he had a grin on his face. “You may think you have the upper hand, but just know that we’ve always been a step ahead.”

“If that were true, then you would’ve taken over by now,” Schlatt replied, tilting his head to the side. “So tell me, why haven’t you?”

“It’s not the right time,” a woman’s voice chimed in. “You can make whatever moves you want, you can do whatever you wish to throw us off our track. But believe me when I say this, Schlatt,” the name was said with venom. “You won’t be able to win this.”

Schlatt’s grin grew. 

“Oh, really?” he laughed. “You think you’re the only one without inside people? I have my ways of getting information. Whether they know it or not, they’re helping my cause. And there is no doubt in my mind that you know exactly who I’m talking about.”

The hulking man took a step forward, but the one next to him put an arm out.

“No. This isn’t the time, like Nemesis said.”

Tubbo clapped a hand over his mouth.

Nemesis. This was the Syndicate.

What was the Syndicate doing here?

“What was that?” The question came from a previously unknown figure, with a warping, crackly voice. “Is someone else here?”

Tubbo slowly backed away from the door, back to the next flight of stairs. His mind was running a million thoughts a second. Why were they here? What did they want? Why did dad seem so comfortable around them? What did dad mean, “men on the inside”? His back made contact with a wall and he had to bite back a scream. 

The door to the conference room opened all the way.

Quackity stood in the doorway, looking around for a moment before he spotted Tubbo.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” He asked.

“Manager’s sick,” Tubbo managed to get out, hoping he didn’t show any of the terror making his heart pound. “I was going up to my room.”

“Alright, but next time, let one of us know, alright?” Tubbo gave a short nod, electing not to say that he was going to tell someone before he came across that strange meeting. “Have you already eaten?”

“I’ll grab something,” Tubbo said, glancing over Quackity’s shoulder. Something gleamed in the darkness, and he instantly looked away. “Maybe Dad could take me to that ropes course that opened a month ago?”

“Doubt it,” Quackity replied briskly. “He’s in a meeting right now.”

“What’s the meeting for?”

“Tubbo, that doesn’t concern you. Just go.” 

“Fine, I guess.”

With that, Tubbo ran down to the kitchen to get himself something to eat. He had to tell Tommy that the Syndicate was at his house. But… he couldn't. 

Because then Tommy would rush over, and his mum wouldn't let them hang out for at least a few months if there was a dangerous gang at Tubbo’s house. So the only logical option was to try and find a more subtle way to eavesdrop. 

He made his way back up to the ‘conference room’, avoiding the squeaky boards and standing right next to the nearly-shut door. He couldn’t see inside, but that meant that no one could see him either.

“-wasn’t it?”

“How would you know?” Schlatt asked defensively. “He could be the gardener.”

“Don’t play dumb. Why are you keeping him a secret?”

“Like Q said, none of your business.” 

“Don’t want your ‘business associates’ taking advantage of you, perhaps? Made a mistake with whoever was stupid enough to give you an heir, and now have to deal with the fallout? It’s everyone’s business if you try to hide it.”

“You shut your mouth. Or should I say beak, birdbrain?” There was a slam on wood, and the scrape of a chair being pulled back. “You don’t know why I do anything I do, and it shouldn’t matter to you. Let me ask you again - what are you doing here?”

“Do you know what happened at the mayor’s brunch yesterday?”

“No. Why?”

“All the guests - on the entire guest list, which was extensive - have disappeared.”

“You found the guest list? Where?”

“He must’ve gone through part of the underbelly to make that many people disappear,” the singular female voice said. “Did you hear anything?”

There was a sigh.

“No. I don’t deal in people, if any of the guests are even still alive. Some pretty shady stuff goes down in the mayor’s inner circle, enough that even I haven’t been involved in it.” 

"I doubt that."

"Really? Then why don't you go snooping closer to that inner circle and you'll realize that I'm not." A chuckle. “I may have done some things people don’t like, but I’m not quite that heartless.” 

“But heartless enough to traffic perfectly fine goods to places the mayor tells you?”

“Hey, a guy’s gotta provide for his family, alright? I’m bigtime, sure, but I won’t do anything that puts my only kid at risk.”

“Then I’d suggest you stop whatever you're doing now, or else he will be at risk,” a threatening voice seethed, sending a chill down Tubbo’s spine. “The bolder you get, the more you’ll draw attention from those less kind.”

“Oh yeah, and showing up to my house to threaten me won’t draw attention at all. Y’know those detectives have gotten a lead, right? They’re getting closer to you, all four of you.”

“Whatever lead they think they have, it isn’t real.”

There was silence.

“Oh, this is too good.” Schlatt laughed. “You got sloppy, didn’t you? And you haven’t told featherface over there!”

“What?”

“This is not the time, I’ll explain later.”

“You- wait a minute, where’s your sword?”

“Okay, okay.” Schlatt’s voice rang above the bickering. “As entertaining as this could be, I have work to get done, so I’d appreciate it if you could get out of my house.”

“You heard the man.” Quackity stepped outside, and Tubbo froze, hoping that he wouldn’t turn around. “Time for you to go.”

Luckily, he didn’t see him, but as the Syndicate walked out behind him, one of them- Protesilaus, his mind supplied - looked to the side, gaze locking with Tubbo’s. 

If Tubbo wasn’t already frozen stiff, he would’ve been then. Whatever - or whoever - was underneath, he was completely hidden by the eerie sight of a skull mask with red-tipped tusks. 

Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, Tubbo’s mind begged. 

The syndicate member tipped his head slightly, but kept moving, looking away with a gleam of red glass set into the eye sockets.

As soon as they were out of sight, Tubbo let out a shaky breath and slowly lowered himself to the ground. He came out with more questions than before, all tumbling around in his skull like a bingo cage. Not to mention the silent death threat posted on his head. 

The only question he could actually think about at the moment - what did his dad do for work?

He had to text Tommy. But he couldn’t, that would make things worse. He had to confront his dad, but that wasn’t a smart option either. The only other person he could think of was Ranboo. But they never really talked outside of work, and that would be a really bad opener.

That only really left Tommy.

Tubbo sighed, long and slow. But he pulled his phone out to text Tommy.

Bee: I’m fracking out rn I think someone just threatened to have me killed.

There was a pause.

Ranboo: I think you got the wrong number.

Shit. Shit. Tubbo rechecked what chat he’d opened. Ranboo. Not Tommy. Well, great.

Bee: Oh.

Bee: Sorry.

There was a long pause.

Ranboo: What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.

Bee: basically, my dad was in a meeting, and I heard

Bee: well technically i eavesdropped.

Bee: anyway I heard him talking to a bunch of people.

Tubbo thought for a moment before he typed:

Bee: I think they were the Syndicate.

Ranboo: Oh. 

Ranboo: Did you see him with them?

Bee: ye. I don’t think he’s one of the members, because he basically just insulted them the whole time, but he seemed to know them.

Ranboo: Oh. Thats not great.

Bee: wow, I never would’ve guessed /sarcastic. Anyway, I heard one of them imply that if my dad kept doing whatever for work, they’d…. Get rid of me.

Ranboo: wow… hopefully he’ll let you keep coming to work

Bee: aw, am I your bestest friend, boo boy?

Ranboo: It’s way more interesting with people my age around, if that’s what you mean. 

Bee: nah, I'm your favorite

Ranboo: I only know you and Tommy.

Bee: but I'm your favorite.

Tubbo could imagine the long, crackly sigh.

Ranboo: Fine, you’re my favorite.

Bee: yay!! :D 

Ranboo: Are you going to tell tommy?

Bee: no

Ranboo: …

Ranboo: Why?

Bee: Because his mom would get super freaked-out and I’d never get to see him again. 

Tubbo leaned back against his headboard, mentally weighing what to say next.

Bee: you’re surprisingly easy to talk to.

Ranboo: Oh. Well, thanks?

Bee: Yeah, you’re not as much of a nervous wreck as I first thought.

Ranboo: Honestly, or a joke?

Bee: a joke lol. 

Ranboo: well, thanks then. 

Ranboo: You wanting to tell me feels…. Nice. 

Ranboo: Anyway, did anyone see you?

Bee: at one point, yeah. But Quackity just told me to piss off.

Bee: I didn’t. But now I’m thinking I understand the saying “curiosity killed the cat”

Ranboo: Maybe you won’t get hurt?

Tubbo blinked at the message. Part of him… was surprised. That Ranboo hadn’t insisted he was overreacting. 

Bee: y’know that thing in movies where some good guy is like ‘oh you can’t hurt whatever I love’ and then the bad guy is like ‘if you keep trying to stop me I WILL hurt your loved one’ or whatever and then it happens? To me, it’s probably going to end up like that. I’ll get kidnapped, murdered, and dumped in a ditch somewhere.

Ranboo: how long ago did this happen?

Bee: Like five minutes ago. I’ve just been thinking a lot.

Ranboo: Nothing bad will happen to you. 

Bee: You sure?

Ranboo: No. I’m just hoping. Fingers crossed that you misunderstood.

Bee: … yeah. 

Ranboo: Hey, I’ve got to go now. Hav eyou eaten yet?

Bee: nah

Ranboo: then eat something, and make sure to drink water. I heard someone once that Overworld hybrids need it to stay health.

Tubbo couldn’t help a smile.

Bee: no promises!

Tubbo was sure Ranboo added something after that, but he ignored it for heading out of his room and towards the front door. 

Ranboo doesn’t know anything, he told himself, getting some orange juice from the fridge. He still felt slightly less paranoid than before. 

Walking past the window, the morning light hit the cup, splitting the light off into ghostly white patches on the walls and ceiling. Glass in the dark… Was one of the Syndicate members wearing glasses? One of them - at least one - had to be an avian. That, Tubbo already knew. 

Wilbur’s sick today.

If Tubbo’s grip hadn’t automatically tightened, he might’ve dropped his cup and broken it.

An avian with glasses. Wilbur, who vanished in the hour before the attack on the diner. Wilbur, who was curious about Tommy's dad’s death. Wilbur, who made it a goal to hide his wings.

What if Wilbur was in the Syndicate?

Tubbo chugged his orange juice as fast as possible - he wasn’t allowed to have food or drinks in his room - and ran back upstairs, calling Tommy.

It took a few rings, but eventually, he answered.

“Hello?” Tommy answered, sounding like he wanted nothing than to just fall back asleep.

“Tommy! I… is your mom in the room with you?” Tubbo asked frantically. 

“No, she’s at work. Why? I was having a fantastic dream involving many, many hot women.”

“It doesn’t matter what you dreamed, I think Wilbur’s in the Syndicate.” 

Now, that got a reaction.

“What? What makes you think that?” Tommy asked. “It’s… Wilbur can’t be part of the Syndicate! No way. He may be sus, but not that sus. No offense to him, but he’s too lame to be part of the most wanted gang in the city. Are you on something, big man?”

“No, okay, so I’ve seen some Syndicate members before.” Tubbo, helpfully, did not mention where or when. “One of them wears glasses, and there’s also an avian, I just can’t remember which one is the avian.” 

“And?” There was a rustle from the other end. Tommy was still in bed, like someone pathetic. “There are plenty of avians with glasses in the city.”

“But there’s too many coincidences,” Tubbo stressed. Why wouldn’t he believe him? “You know when there was that fight at the diner with a Syndicate member, and how Wilbur coincidentally left an hour before?”

“If we’re going off of that logic, then Niki is Nemesis,” Tommy replied with a short laugh. “She’s gone all the time too. But we both know that she can’t be part of the Syndicate. There’s too much evidence pointing in the opposite direction. Same with Wil. Besides, I’m pretty sure last I saw, the Syndicate’s avian’s wings weren’t clipped.”

“Can’t you graft feathers together? That’s something people do, it can’t be hard to make feather grafts you can take on and off.”

“Tubs, my man. You need sleep, sleep is good for the soul.” Tommy sold his point by giving a large yawn. “The conspiracies can wait until you have better evidence, yeah?”

“No, but I-”

Dial tone. Tommy had hung up.

Tubbo growled and hurled his phone into the bed.

Fine. If Tommy wanted more evidence, he would get more evidence. Now, it was just a matter of sneaking out of the house without a bodyguard. That would have to wait, though. After the diner scare, Schlatt probably wouldn’t loosen the leash for several weeks at least.

He would have to be patient. 

—————

“You know what that stuff is, right?” Dream asked Sam, leaning over the technician’s work desk. “I would assume you do, I still can’t believe it knocked me out just by skin contact. What would do that? I mean, it has to be some sort of anesthetic, right? It’s got to be, unless it’s an unknown substance, which would be cool because then we could just use that to try and catch the gangs that roam the city. It would make everything so much easier-”

“Dream!” Sam snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t think with you hovering over me like that. Let me do my work, and you take George and Sapnap out for a bit. You’re all overworked.”

“Sorry,” Dream muttered, stepping back so Sam could hunch over the microscope. The residual green goop had been scraped from his hands upon arrival at the lab, and now a small sample was under inspection by the lab technicians who were trying to figure out what it was. 

“It’s definitely not from the overworld, that’s for sure.” Sam mumbled, mostly to himself. “How about you guys go on a trip to the End or the Nether, see if you could find something similar to this?”

Dream scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, no thanks. Portals make me sick. Why not use that big brain of yours,” he knocked on Sam’s skull, “and figure it out?”

“Get off, you’ll knock the plug loose.” Sam slapped the hand away, putting his face in his hands. “It obviously comes from an organic source, a plant probably.”

“The End doesn’t have much in the way of plant life,” Dream remarked, tilting his head. “And what is there is purple, right? It can’t be a chorus plant or something.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Sam waved absently behind him with one hand, not looking up. “There should be some books on nether plants on the shelf. Look through it if you won’t leave.” 

Dream searched through the row of books until he found one labeled The Nether: How To Survive In Hell. He figured that one was good to start with. He grabbed it and went to plop himself down on the couch Sam had in his workshop. 

He flipped open to the first chapter and began reading:

The Nether is a dimension that is made up of mostly rock, both solid and molten. Because of the exposed lava lakes, most of the native plants and animals are fireproof, and because most of the dimension is made up of rock, the Nether has a high quantity of gold veins and other inorganic materials like netherite - a completely impervious substance - and glowstone.

Dream flipped through a few more pages until he got to the plant section, and stopped on a picture of a twisting, fungus-like tree. Its leaves were a vibrant teal color, and Dream couldn’t help but read the description.

The Warped Fungus is one of the few megaflora species in the Nether. Although it is a fungi, it can grow to extremely large sizes, and gains a foliage-like cap and scaly ‘bark’ when fully grown. The small mushroom form of the warped fungus is inedible to Overworld hybrids and humans, but the native piglins create a type of syrup from the tree’s sap, and use it to soothe children. After some research, it has been found that the sap has a mild sedative effect on piglins, and is a bit more effective on overworlders who haven’t built up a tolerance, although it may be addictive or even fatal in large doses.

The sap is more of a green compared to the blue of the Fungus but is easily identifiable by its luminescent state. When found in its natural habitat- the Warped Forests (see page 80) -it glows green, but when brought to the overworld, the glow is only seen under the light of molten netherrack (similar to Overworld lava). In the Overworld-

Dream looked back up to Sam, who had switched to a larger microscope. He could tell Sam about what he found about lava. Or, he could find some himself and give Sam a much-needed break. 

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Do we have any molten netherrack?”

Sam paused and looked up, blinking in bafflement.

“What?” 

“Molten netherrack.”

“Why do you need it?”

“For a thing.”

“That’s… comforting.”

“Sam, please.”

Sam sighed. 

“Fine. Sapnap’s got some.”

Now Dream was the one to blink.

“Why?”

“Decorating I think.”

“Kay, thanks.” Dream ducked out of Sam’s office, bee-lining towards the office he shared with George and Sapnap. 

On Sapnap’s desk, there were two lava lamps on the far corners, but when Dream picked one up the glass was uncomfortably warm against his hands, and he had to repeatedly set the tube down so he wouldn’t get burned. Yep. Definitely lava. 

At one especially loud clatter of tempered glass, George - who had been dozing at his own desk - startled awake, readjusting his goggles where they’d slipped off his nose.

“Wha- what are you doing with that?” 

Dream looked down at the ‘lamp’, and picked it back up.

“Borrowing it.”

George’s eyebrows crept above the rim of his sunglasses. 

“Why? Jealous of Sapnap’s decorating?”

Dream scoffed.

“No. I need it for something else.”

“For what?” George asked, and after Dream nearly dropped it for the fifteenth time, added: “You know that’s lava, right? You should put on gloves.” 

“I need to check something with that goo stuff that knocked me out,” Dream explained lamely, setting the tube back down. “But I’d need another sample, one that isn’t being used.”

“Huh.” George yawned, spine popping as he stood up. “I think some got on my jeans from… how long ago was it? I haven’t washed them yet.”

“It was yesterday,” Dream told him. Apparently losing track of time came along with sleeping all the time. “But, let’s see if we can’t get some off.” 

“Got a plate or something?” George looked around, sifting through his mess of an area. “Nevermind, I’ve got it.” He pulled a sheet of note paper out from underneath some empty cups, shaking off a crumb or two and setting it on an empty space. “Do you have a knife?”

“Uh…..” Dream fished a pocketknife out of his jeans and handed it over. 

George hunched over, scraping at a spot near his knee.

“You haven’t even changed? What are you doing with your life?” Dream wrinkled his nose.

“These are my favorites,” George replied, and scraped some dried greenish dust onto the paper. “Go turn the lights off.”

Dream did, shutting the door first.

When he turned around, all he could see was the orange glow of the lava and a faint green light.

“Well, that definitely did something.” George blinked, eyes reflecting the lava like a cat. “What’s it mean?”

“I thought you were the science-y one, George.” Dream took a seat in the closest chair, fumbling around in the darkness. Even though he’d washed them at least three times, his hands still had the same glow as the rest of the sap. “It comes from a nether plant, that’s why no one could figure out what it is. If I had to guess, it’s been processed to work even through skin contact, which means that whoever made the sword thought it through. Well, it was bound to be booby-trapped, but you know what I mean.” He shifted in his chair for a moment, then stood back up. “Y’know, I should go tell Sam. Want me to hit the lights?”

“No.” George took out a different note paper, writing something down by the dim light. “Just leave it.”

Dream ran out of the room, excited to tell Sam of their finds. He nearly ran into Sapnap on his way, but was able to evade the crash. When he barreled into Sam’s workshop, slightly out of breath, he ran straight to the man’s work desk.

“SAM!” he cheered. “I figured it out! It’s some sort of nether plant!” He picked up the book from earlier and flipped to the page he had been on. “It’s warped fungus tree sap!”

“Really? You checked?” Sam took the book, reading the description. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I just checked with the lava light on Sapnap’s desk.” Dream bounced on his feet, pumped that they finally were getting somewhere.

“Interesting, but not exactly helpful. We already knew that one of the Syndicate members is a piglin, and it’s his sword that we got.”

“But the sap’s been processed or something,” Dream insisted. “It’s stronger than the book says - it knocked me out after seconds. Someone with access to actual lab materials must also be Syndicate.”

“You think?” Sam shut the book. “Huh. Well, that’s something.”

“You’re not more excited?”

“It’s not my job.” Sam turned back to his microscope, turning it off and removing the slide. “You’re the detective, I’m the dude who does the science for you. Now it looks like I’ll be adding stuff to our files. Oh, joy.”  

“Oh, it can’t be that bad. Lighten up a bit,” Dream said, playfully punching his friend in the arm. “One day we’ll find something that you can come out onto the scene for instead of staying cooped up in your lab all day.”

“If I get into the same scrapes as you and your little team,” Sam said dryly, pushing the microscope back against the wall and taking out a form, “I don’t particularly want to.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you know you want to join us.”

“I’ve done the detective thing before,” Sam said, searching for a pen and finding one tucked behind his ear. “Too messy.”

“More messy than screwing around in other-worldly gunk? More messy than being covered in oil every day?” Dream scoffed.

Sam looked over at him, gaze stony.

“Too messy for someone who spent half an hour trying to wash the blood out of his boots. We’re not all meant for the dark and gritty stuff, Dream. I don’t want to go home every night seeing the gazes of drugged kids and slaughtered refugees laid out in piles. I’m tired of going out every day to diffuse gang battles, then knock on someone’s door and tell them that their son or husband was shot in a back alley. This isn’t a good city, and I know you’re trying to make it better, but…” he shrugged, turning back around. “I’m too soft for that kind of work, I guess.”

Dream sighed. He hadn’t thought about that part of it. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admitted. “But you do need to get out every once in a while.”

Sam chuckled slightly.

“Maybe if you picked better places to hang out.”

“Look, when we finally get rid of the Syndicate, we won’t be hanging out in gang-infested areas.”

“Sure, when pigs fly. Those gangs have existed probably before you were born, and they’ll go on until this city is burnt to the ground.”

Dream raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sure I could get the lab to whip up a pair of wings.”

The last thing he heard walking away was the sound of laughter.

Chapter Text

“Tommy? You feeling okay?”

Tommy startled awake, realizing that he’d dozed off against the car window.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, leaning back into the cool glass. “Just a bit tired.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have slept in yesterday, then,” his mom joked. “Try and stay awake during work, alright?”

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy mumbled, feeling his eyelids droop a little bit. To hopefully distract him, he took out his phone, texting Tubbo.

Big Man: Hey, where are you?

Tubbo didn’t respond for a while.

Bumblebitch: Not feeling too great, big man. Threw up a bit ago 

Big Man: That sucks, hope you feel better.

Bumblebitch: remember what I told you yesterday

Big Man: yeah, yeah. Your conspiracy theories and shit. I’ll think about it. 

Tommy felt like he was thinking through soup when he got out of the car, bag slung over one shoulder feeling heavier than normal.

“Hey, glad you could make it.” Wilbur smiled cheerfully, dropping a bag of flour on the countertop. “Got the message about Tubbo being sick, hoped you didn’t catch it.”

“Nah, I’m too- too manly to get sick.” Tommy threw his bag into the small room for the employees’ jackets and stuff, practically collapsing on a stool. “What am I doing today?”

“Well, we’re done with all the catering orders, so it’s just a casual work day. If you wouldn’t mind starting to mix up some dough for muffins, that way we can keep restocking the front.” Wilbur began listing the day off, but Tommy couldn’t focus on it, being distracted by the slight ringing in his ears and how it felt like his insides were doing gymnastics. He - rather dazedly - took the bowl Ranboo handed him, gathering and mixing ingredients as quickly as he could. 

Nothing bad really happened until about half an hour later, when Tommy needed to get the wet ingredients.

“A bit slow today, aren’t you?” WIlbur asked, sounding annoyed as Tommy stumbled over to the fridge.

“I dunno, I’m just not-” Tommy’s vision swam, and he blinked to try and regain the focus in his eyes, dizzily slapping around for the milk jug. “Not feeling too good.”

“Woah, Tommy!” Wilbur wrapped an arm around Tommy’s middle before he could fall flat on his face. “You should’ve stayed home if you weren’t feeling great. I’m sure we could’ve been fine without you for a day.”

“But-” Tommy stumbled over his words, feeling his knees shake and threaten to give out. “But I couldn’t do that. I’m a-” his words began to slur together. “I’ma big man. I- I don’t take sick days.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You’re the most mature person in the room. How about you sit down or something, call your mom to take you home, and we’ll be fine without you.” Wilbur tried to steer Tommy away, but was forced to try and support the entire weight of a balance-deficit teenager. “Alright?”

“No, I can’t. I can’t, she has to work.” Tommy shook his head, trying to get the point across without puking on Wilbur’s ugly yellow sweater. “I’ve- she’s already at work now, I can’t make her leave like that. It’s not worth it, I’m not worth it.” His hands were fisted in said sweater, like it would keep him standing up. He hated being sick. He hated it.

“Is there somewhere else you could go?” Wilbur tried. When Tommy ust shook his head, Wilbur sighed. 

“You can take him up to my apartment,” Niki said from across the bakery. 

“No, you don’t have to.” Tommy tried stepping away, managing to prop himself up against the counter. “It’s not that bad, I can just-” He clapped a hand over his mouth as his stomach heaved, trying to keep his breakfast down. 

“And, upstairs you go.” Wilbur hauled ass and managed to get Tommy to the bathroom. 

Just as he was set down, he lost control and dove into the toilet, shaking as his stomach decided it hated everything, including Tommy, and it was going to show that hatred. Surprisingly cold tears dripped off his cheeks and nose. Of course he was this pathetic. First he was being a burden by being sick, then he was a crybaby about it. Today should’ve gone so much better.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur said softly, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “You’re okay, just breathe. It’s alright, let it all out.” For some reason, the calming words seemed to make him cry harder. “You’re alright, Tommy, it’s okay.”

“Sh-shouldn’t you be supervising?” Tommy asked, once he could talk without his stomach turning inside-out or breaking up into sobbing hiccups. “You don’t ha-have to do this.”

“Technically, you’re right. But Niki’s got it handled, and I don’t want y- um, any of my employees feeling like they’re dragging us down, or that they can’t be not-okay.”

“B-but-”

“No ‘buts’, Toms. You don’t have anywhere else to go, so I can take care of you, alright? Don’t worry about it.” Wilbur smoothed his hair gently. “All you need to do is focus on getting better. I’ve got to ask, though, how did this happen? What did you do on your day off?”

Tommy chuckled weakly. 

“Slept, mostly.” He thought for a second, not about what he’d been doing, but what he’d been eating. Then he promptly wanted to duck down and drown himself, knuckles white on the rim of the toilet. “I think I’ve got food poisoning.”

“Food-” Wilbur sighed, long and loud, and Tommy wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. “This is why I told you not to eat the raw dough. You and Tubbo both, it’s no coincidence you’re sick on the same day. Of all the things, you gave yourself salmonella.”

“Hey, don’t blame me, blame the raw eggs. Why make something that’s so bad for you taste so good?” Tommy asked, wings curling around him. He felt so hot, but it was really cold at the same time. He’d had a fever before, but not as bad as this. God he felt pathetic. “I’m sorry.”

“C’mon, let’s get you on the bed.” Wilbur helped Tommy stand and walk up the stairs, one arm slung around his shoulders. “And don’t be sorry. It’s my fault.” 

“‘S what you get,” Tommy said, head spinning again now that he was mostly-standing. “Abado- abandan- abandoning your workers like that.” 

“You’re one to talk.” Wilbur let Tommy lean against the rickety wood bedposts of Niki’s bed, peeling back the top extra layer of blanket so he could crawl in and not mess up the carefully-made sheets. “Hey, I’m going to call Phil to watch you, okay? I’m sure he’d be head over heels for another avian to take care of.” The last sentence was slightly bitter, but Tommy could barely think at this point, kicking on instinct as Wilbur wrestled with his shoes. “Leave off, dickhead.”

“You’ll fuck up your feet if you sleep in shoes,” Wilbur said briskly, Tommy’s shoes falling one-two to the floor.

“Nooo,” Tommy grumbled, flapping his wings with all the energy he could muster to knock off the knitted blanket Wilbur placed over him. “How do you know I’m gonna sleep?”

“Because that will help,” Wilbur replied, pulling the blanket back up and carefully trapping Tommy’s wings. “You’re sick, you don’t get a say in anything, understood? I’m calling Phil.”

Tommy just glared up at his boss. Then he looked away, curling up on the bed with his wings tucked into his back.

“Fine. Call him or whatever. Go back to work.”

Wilbur just gave him a sound of acknowledgement and pulled out his phone. It answered after only a few rings.

"Hey, Phil…" Wilbur began awkwardly. "Yeah, everything's- actually, no. It's not alright, Tommy came into work sick. He says he can't go home 'cause his mum's at work.” A pause. “He doesn't want to go to Tubbo's, and he's not letting me take care of him… okay, sure, but Niki needs all the help she can get. Yep. Yeah. We’re up in the apartment. Uhuh. Yeah, see you soon, bye.” He hung up and put his phone back in one pocket. “Phil will be here soon, alright?”

Tommy burrowed deeper into the blanket, hoping he could fall asleep before Phil arrived. 

“Liar,” he said into the folds, hoping Wilbur didn’t hear. “You are busy.”

“Yeah, well it’s no skin off my back if I make sure you’re alright,” Wilbur replied, since he was a blind-ass bitch who could apparently hear well. “They’ll last ten minutes without me.”

Tommy gave him a short huff before falling silent. He’d kind of forgotten what it felt like to be taken care of. His mom was too busy nowadays, and he tried to avoid bothering Tubbo, but his dad- 

His dad-

Tommy shook his head. No. No thinking about the past, he was a big man and big men didn’t dwell on (red shoes red shoes red sleeves red HANDS ) the past.

Trying to ignore the nausea and the way his head spun, Tommy let himself sink deeper into unconsciousness.

He wasn’t quite asleep, however, when he heard footsteps.

“Thanks for coming,” Wilbur said. “I think he’s asleep, but don’t be surprised if he does something stupid.”

There was a light chuckle, and Tommy barely cracked his eyes open. 

The world seemed like it was underwater, light and shapes swimming in his vision.

But Tommy could see someone close by, someone with blonde hair and dark wings folded against his back and a smile-

Dad?  

He wasn’t thinking straight, he knew. But the idea of his dad looking after him was so, so tempting. Tommy let his eyes fall closed again.

Red shoes. Red shoes and star-shaped flowers with white and black petals. 

"Hey, mate." There was a hand on his head, gently running through his hair. "how're you feeling?"

Tommy made an unintelligible noise and pressed farther into the hand. Because it was so familiar. Some part of his brain told him that, no, it wasn't familiar. But to that, he replied, shut up . He just wanted this. He didn't care what his stupid brain said. Because now that the man was humming softly, he was sure it was his dad.

“You’re a troublemaker, aren’t you?”

Tommy snorted groggily, still not opening his eyes.

“I’m your troublemaker,” he mumbled. There was a chuckle. 

“Yeah?” his dad placed the back of his hand against Tommy’s forehead. “Oh, you’re burning up. Have you drank any water this morning?” Tommy shook his head, curling even deeper into the blankets. “Then I’ll go get you some, alright?”

“N-noo,” Tommy whined, trying to keep ahold of the hand. “You can’t leave.” his voice cracked. “You can’t leave again.” 

“Mate, I’m just heading to the kitchen, I’ll be right back. It’ll only take a few minutes, alright?”

Tommy grumbled a little bit but stopped fighting, letting his dad gently remove his fingers and walk out of the room. 

His head still spun. The heat under his skin made his thoughts all hazy.

There was footsteps, and then the clink of glass.

“Can you sit up real quick for me?” 

Tommy obliged, ending up mostly tangled in the blanket and with one wing awkwardly pinned behind him. A cold glass was pressed into his hands and Tommy groggily lifted it up to his lips, drinking. The water was cold, and helped a little to soothe his throat. The hand came back, trying to free Tommy’s squashed wing, but he flinched away.

“The feathers’ll just break,” He croaked, and could feel a slight tug as one just did that, stuck in the slats of Niki’s headboard. “There’s no point.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” The hand trying to free the wing was a little more gentle. A few more feathers fell out or broke, but eventually, his wing was able to move a little more freely. “You really need to switch up your diet.”

“No,” Tommy whined, closing his eyes. “‘s fine.”

“If your wings break that easily, it’s not. Now hush. I’m not going to fight with you while you’re tired like this. Sleep.”

At the command, Tommy’s mind started to slip back into unconsciousness. Before he fell asleep, he muttered out a single request.

“Please don’t leave again, dad.”

—————

“Dad,” Tubbo called into his father’s office, leaning onto the doorframe. “Where did you put the medicine?” 

“It should be in the cupboard above the sink in the bathroom, why?” Schlatt looked up and saw Tubbo, who looked pale as a ghost. “Oh, I’ll run and grab it for you. Just sit down, I’ll be right back.”

Footsteps showed Schlatt leaving as Tubbo stumbled towards a chair and sat down. How did he get so sick? It could’ve been Wilbur, he was sick yesterday. Maybe he’d already been sick at work, and ended up passing it on to Tubbo. 

Had Tommy gotten sick too?

Tubbo knew that when his best friend was sick, he could be a menace. And if he ended up getting sick too-

Tubbo stood up fast enough to make his head spin more than it already had been. But that wasn’t his main concern at the moment.

Because if Tommy had lied about not being sick when Tubbo had texted him, then he was going to be a pain for them at the bakery. 

Tubbo couldn’t let that happen. But chances were, he wouldn’t be able to leave until this was better.

Schlatt came back in, passing over some Tylenol before going to sit back down at his desk. He looked through papers, comparing them to his computer screen, and frowned.

“Ask Tommy if you can go to his place,” Schlatt said after a moment. “I’ll need to leave for work, and I don’t want you hanging around the house all by yourself.”

Tubbo wasn’t sure whether he should be upset or excited. On the one hand, his dad was basically saying that he didn’t want to take care of him. On the other, that meant he could go make sure Tommy wasn’t causing trouble for the others. 

“His mom will be at work,” Tubbo said. “Could drop me off at the bakery? I don't have to work, just... hang out.” 

A pause as Schlatt considered that.

“Get your stuff and meet me out in the car.” He said finally, and Tubbo internally pumped his fist. “I’ll be out in a second.”

Tubbo stood on shaky legs and began walking out to the car. He wasn’t sure if his luck was good or bad, but he couldn’t care either way.

Driving over to the bakery, he took his phone out.

Bee: hey, my dad’s dropping me off at work because he can’t watch me for a while

Bee: you’re not sick are you?

It was a while before Tommy replied.

Birb: i’m in niki’s apartment, threw up but not in anywone

Birb: WIlbr said that we got saomonella

Tubbo puzzled over that last word, then realized that Tommy had been trying to say salmonella.

Oh. Well. 

Bee: I’ll be over in a bit, don’t become a problem for them before I get there.

Tubbo put his phone away and leaned against the headrest, aiming the cold air conditioning towards his face. 

“What did Tommy say?” Schlatt asked, briefly glancing over.

“He’s at work,” Tubbo said, technically truthfully. “he thinks I’ve got salmonella.”

Schlatt frowned. 

“Where would you have gotten salmonella from?”

“It’s a bakery, there’s raw eggs all over the place.”

“That’s why you should learn more self-control: so nothing bad happens, right?”

“Yeah, alright.” Tubbo tucked his knees up to his chin, antenna drooping so they nearly brushed against his cheeks. “Doesn’t help much now, but alright.”

“Well, just for the future. Now you know the consequences.” Schlatt reached out a hand to ruffle through his hair. “Be glad nothing worse happened, I might have to kill you myself.”

Tubbo snorted but didn’t say anything, looking out the window to see that they were approaching the neighborhood with his work. The diner was all but repaired by now, the only thing left to remind of what happened was the blood-stained concrete that couldn’t be cleaned. When they approached the bakery, Ranboo was already standing outside, apron strings fluttering in the wind.

“Hey Ranboo,” Tubbo greeted as he stepped out of the car, leaning against the paint so he wouldn’t fall over.

“Tubbo, hey.” Ranboo glanced strangely at Schlatt but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the man. “I thought you were sick, what are you doing here?”

“He can’t watch me today,” Tubbo said, nodding to the car, “and I wanted to make sure Tommy didn’t bother you guys.”

“Tubbo, you shouldn’t be here while you’re sick!” Ranboo exclaimed, throwing his hands up for emphasis.

Tubbo waved goodbye as the car drove away. 

“Tell that to Tommy.”

“We didn’t know he was sick when he came, and Phil’s here taking care of him. We can’t have two sick people, we still have a bakery to run.”

“I can still work,” Tubbo said, leaning on the doorframe as his head spun. 

“Yeah, that’s what Tommy said, and then he practically collapsed next to the fridge.” Ranboo fiddled with the hem of his apron worriedly. “And there’s only one bed in Niki’s place, but Tommy’s in that, and the apartment would get really crowded if Phil had to look out for you too.”

Suddenly, Tubbo got an idea. He would regret it later, sure. But that was something for future him to worry about.

“Then what if you took care of me?” Tubbo asked.

“I have to work,” Ranboo insisted, practically shredding his apron at this point. 

“But Niki and Wilbur’s got that covered. Besides, shouldn’t all the orders be done by this point?” Why Tubbo kept going was a mystery. He knew he shouldn’t continue teasing Ranboo, but the reaction he kept getting was priceless. “C’mon, Boo. Just for today?” 

Maybe he did want someone to take care of him. As if he would admit that, even to himself.

“You- I have to ask first! I can’t just leave work.” Ranboo was still there when Tubbo accidentally-kind-of-on-purpose stumbled, one arm under his shoulders. “Why can’t your dad watch you?”

“He’s working, like always, and he doesn’t want me alone by myself.” Tubbo scoffed, shaking his head to try and clear the dizziness. “Not like I’m alone ninety percent of the time anyways.”

“Well, I can’t-”

“Please?” Tubbo couldn’t help the desperation that entered his voice. 

Ranboo fell silent, searching Tubbo’s gaze for a moment.

Then he sighed.

“Fine. I’ll tell Niki, can you wait here really quick while I grab my stuff?”

Tubbo nodded and leaned himself up against the door, closing his eyes slightly. In the back of his mind, there was a whisper about Tommy. But he would be fine, it would be fine. 

Ranboo came back a few minutes later, having lost the apron and carrying a backpack.

“How far away’s your place?” Tubbo asked weakly, trying to think through the pain in his guts. “I don’t think I’d be able to walk.”

“It’s only a bit away, just lean on me, I’ve got you.” Ranboo sighed as Tubbo leaned into his side. “It’ll be fine. I think.”

“Do you know if Tommy’s doing okay?” Tubbo asked, wings fluttering slightly in an attempt to keep him standing but lacking the energy to do so.

“Yeah, he’s just getting rest, he’ll be alright. Right now you should be worried about yourself.”

“I thought that was your job,” Tubbo said, drawing a funny look from a stranger when he nearly fell onto the street. “I can barely strong- string words together, sure, but I think Tommy collapsing is more... Uh, what’s the word - important?”

“You’re about to collapse. I don’t think one person is more important than the other.”

“Sure, that’s what… tha’s what you think.” Tubbo hissed through his teeth as the two crossed the street, not liking the jolt of pain. “Agree to disagree?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re almost there,” Ranboo said as he led Tubbo up the stairs to an apartment complex. “Come on, just a little farther.”

Once inside, Ranboo let Tubbo collapse on the couch and hesitantly stepped away. 

“Stay here, um, I’ll be right back.”

—————

“How long has he been asleep?” a voice asked, breaking through the fog that was Tommy’s fevered brain.

“Just about an hour,” Dad replied, running a hand through Tommy’s hair. “Try not to wake him, though. He seems like he needs the rest.”

“What he needs is food,” another voice countered. “Fevers burn up energy, and he already threw up everything from breakfast.”

“Wil, he’ll be fine if he goes a bit longer asleep.” 

Tommy agreed. He was tired, not hungry.

“And before I go back down- I’m pretty sure he’s delirious.”

“Yeah, I caught the fact that he’s an oven right now, but what do you mean delirious?”

“I’m only guessing, but he doesn’t recognize me, and he’s been talking to me like I’m…. someone else.” 

“Rotten luck.” 

“And look at all these feathers.” there was a rustle. “He’s not molting, is he?”

“No, they just snapped off when he was moving. I’m thinking of getting in contact with his mom to see if we can’t help him with that. His wings are so fragile.”

Tommy felt the hand leave his hair and decided now was a good time to make it known that he was awake.

“Dad, it’s hot,” he whined, reaching out. “It’s hot, but I’m cold.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” The hand was on his wrist, gently lowering it back down. “It’s just a fever, it’ll pass. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Can’t.” Tommy squirmed, trying to get out from underneath what had become a sweltering cocoon that trapped his arms and wings. “It’s too warm.”

“Just hold still, you’ll only hurt yourself.” The blanket was pulled off his shoulders, freeing him so his wings loosely opened. “Think you could eat something?”

“Dunno.” Tommy cracked his eyes open, but it was too bright now to see who was in the room. “‘M not hungry.”

“You’ve gotta eat somethin’, kid,” one of the voices from earlier said. “You might not feel hungry, but you need the food. C’mon, sit up.”

Tommy tried to sit up, but his body felt so heavy and he ended up just flopping back onto the bed with a wince as his midsection sparked with pain.

“Can’t,” he mumbled, eyes slipping closed. “Hurts.”

“Hey, Tommy, you need to stay awake for a bit, alright? Here. I’ll help you up,” Dad said, pulling him into a sitting position and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to keep him steady.

Tommy blinked, eyesight still blurry and head fading in and out of rationality. It felt like something had rattled loose when he sat up, and he frowned at the hand on his shoulder.

“Wh- you’re… you’re gone. What are you doing here?” He looked down at the blanket. Red and gray bits were scattered on the wool. “Is that- that’s me? Why am I breaking?”

“Wow.”

“I don’t wanna break, I’ll die.” Tommy couldn’t keep his voice from shaking. Red shoes. Red shoes red shoes red hands. “Am I dead?”

“You’re not dead,” Dad said, rubbing circles into his back. “You’re okay, just breathe. Can you do that for me? In… out… There you go. You aren’t dead, you aren’t breaking. It’s just your feathers. Don’t worry, they’ll grow back-”

“Hopefully.”

“Techno!”

“I’m just saying, if he’s lost that many feathers, then I don’t think they’ll grow back that fast.”

Tommy let out a shuddering sob, finding Dad’s wing and burying his face in it.

“I don’t like your friends,” he mumbled into the feathers. “Mom won’t like that you let them inside. They get mud on the floor.”

“Don’t worry, they didn’t this time.” Tommy could hear the confusion in his dad’s voice, but didn’t comment on it. “C’mon, I’ve got some broth for you. You think you’re up for eating some of it?”

Tommy nodded reluctantly, but didn’t move his face from where it was hidden in his dad’s wing. It felt nice, safe. He didn’t want to move.

“Wil, can you warm the bowl over there up and bring it back? Thanks.”

There were footsteps leaving the room. Tommy wound his hands through his dad’s feathers, hearing a sharp breath. After a bit, the footsteps returned and Dad nudged Tommy’s head out of where it was hidden so he could drink the soup. When he looked up, though, his breath caught.

“You-you’re-” the man who was holding the soup had glasses, and dark eyes, and it was bad bad bad bad badbadbad- “you’re- you’re one of-” he shrank backwards, trying to get away. “Dad, no, don’t trust him. He’s bad, Tubbo said he’s bad.” He turned, trying to find shelter again, but only saw pure black feathers, not broken up by patches of yellow. “You’re- you’re all wrong. What- I don’t-” he shook his head. He couldn’t breathe. “Everything’s wrong. You- who are you?” He was sobbing at this point, unable to comprehend what was happening. “Who are you? Where am I? What did you-”

“You’re okay, just breathe. You’re okay. C’mon, Tommy, you need to calm down. Alright? Can you do that for me? You’re just a little sick,” not-dad said. “Just calm down and we’ll be able to help you, alright?”

Tommy didn’t calm down. He couldn’t calm down because everything was wrong. It was so wrong, and he couldn’t do a thing about it.

“Where’s my dad?” he demanded tearfully, knocking the blanket away and pulling his knees closer. “What did you do to him? Who are you?”

“I’m Phil, remember?” Not-Dad said, pressing Tommy back. “Wilbur’s dad. Your dad… your dad’s just gone for a bit. He left but he’ll be back, don’t worry.”

Tommy let loose a frightened chirp. Because, no, his dad wasn’t coming back. His dad left him and couldn’t come back, wouldn’t come back, never ever ever. 

“I want my dad,” he managed to say, hands fisted in the blanket like that could replace warm feathers. “But he’s gone. He’s gone and he won’t-” Tommy choked on another sob, and couldn’t finish. 

Phil seemed lost for words. 

Good. He wasn’t there. He didn’t know, hadn’t seen, didn’t have the red red red all the way up his hands like gloves.

“It’s all my fault.” his voice was small. He knew it was, and in the seconds of silence that followed his statement, he hoped that no one had heard. “I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t- I couldn’t- it’s all my fault. He’s- he’s gone because of me.”

Unfortunately, Phil spoke up.

“No, he’s not.”

“He is, I was there, I’m the one who-” Tommy cut himself off with another sob. His throat was feeling dry after all the crying he was doing today. Man, he was pathetic, crying in front of total strangers. “I’m the one who killed him.”

The room went quiet. Tommy didn’t like the quiet. It was too loud, it was always too loud. The last time he would ever hear silence was when his hands were wet and red and feeling a heart stop beating, lungs stop breathing. 

“You’re not,” someone said- Wilbur, Tommy’s mind told him. “You’re just a kid.”

“But if I just… if I just waited. If I hadn’t tried to find him. Then maybe… maybe he would-”

Before he could finish Phil had pulled him into a hug, wings and arms and warmth warmth warmth.

“Can’t-” Tommy choked, trying to pull his hands away, “I’ll get blood on you, they’ll come after me and they’ll, they’ll-”

“No, Tommy,” Phil said, pulling Tommy closer. “None of that’s real.” 

“It is,” Tommy whispered, hands fisted against a chest. “It’ll never not be real.” 

“Tommy,” one of the other voices said, “how old are you?” 

Tommy spared a quizzical glance. That was a piglin sitting there, hair pale and braided.

“Thirteen,” he said.

“No,” Phil said, “you’re sixteen, Tommy. You’re alright.”

Tommy blinked and pulled away, looking down at his hands. A little pale, but bigger than he remembered. And clean. No blood on his skin, no rusty brown stuck under his nails no matter how much he scrubbed. Hands shaking, he brushed fingertips against his shoulders, his face, his hair. Sixteen. Sixteen. He was sixteen.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” Phil whispered. 

Tommy couldn't say anything. He wrapped his arms around himself, watching the people around him, and struggled to distinguish between reality and memory in the time before he fell back asleep.

—————

Tubbo had mostly slept once he was on the couch in Ranboo’s house, feeling the floor vibrate as Ranboo walked around and briefly swimming back into wakefulness as he shivered and a blanket was laid over him, a cold hand brushing against his forehead.

Briefly, he was thrown into a world that seemed so entirely unlike his own. A place where he wasn’t ignored and left to fend for himself, where he was… safe. 

“Hey, I don’t have a lot of overworld food…. but it should be fine.” Ranboo shuffled his feet when Tubbo looked up, holding a plate with some food. “You’re not allergic, are you?”

“No. What do you eat, anyway?” Tubbo still had his face halfway buried in the pillow, but could see Ranboo hovering in the doorway. “What’s there to eat in the End?”

Ranboo shrugged, feet tapping against the floor as he walked up.

“Chorus fruit. Sometimes animals wander in from the overworld, but they’re hard to keep alive when there’s no water.” He kept his distance as if afraid, setting the plate down next to the couch. “And fruit has enough other stuff in it that I can eat it without getting burned.”

“So, what, you eat fruit all the time? Like, that’s all you have in your house? That’s lame.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes.

“Says the guy who gave himself salmonella. I’ve got other stuff, fruit’s just cheaper than most of the stuff I can eat. Chorus fruit isn’t exactly cheap, y’know?” 

“But if you’re from the end, you should be able to get a discount.”

“No one seems to care. Because of how hard it is to get or grow the plants, they’re so expensive I’d have to sell an organ or three.” Ranboo shook his head, taking a seat on the floor. “I settle for whatever fruit’s in season and any meat I can get.”

“Still lame.” Tubbo felt around on the floor, finding a bunch of grapes on the plate and picking it up. “You should be named… I dunno…. Lameboo.” He popped a grape in his mouth. “That’s like telling a piglin they can’t have any gold because other people think it’s fancy.”

“That’s exactly what people do. We’re not all sons of rich businessmen, Tubbo.” Ranboo looked down, hands curled around his ankles. “Not all of us are as lucky as you.”

“Oh yeah, sure.” Tubbo snorted. “'I’m lucky'. Just because my dad’s rich doesn’t mean I am.” Tubbo curled up into a ball to conserve heat. His brain was all fuzzy. “Also, I could get, like, kidnapped whenever, if anyone found out I wasn’t actually a bee. That’s fun.”

Ranboo looked partially confused, partially something else.

“You’re not?”

“Mm?” Tubbo blinked. “Not what? Not terribly handsome? Cause that’s factually untrue, bossman.” 

Ranboo flushed slightly. 

“No. I meant- you’re not a bee?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m not.” Tubbo grinned slightly at Ranboo. “Haven’t you seen Schlatt? Those aren’t antennae on his head, that’s for sure.” 

Ranboo blinked. He had nice eyes. Wow, Tubbo was out of it. 

“So- so what are you?” 

“Mm…” Tubbo frowned, gingerly chewing dead skin off his lip. “Bossman, can you keep a secret?” 

He didn’t see the way Ranboo flinched and scratched at his arm.

“I- I don’t know, uh, you really want to tell me?”

“Mhm.” Tubbo reached out so his hand hooked into Ranboo’s collar, dragging him closer to the couch. Ranboo leaned forward easily, and this close Tubbo could see the little speckles of grey on his cheeks. He brushed against them with his thumb. “Huh. You’ve got, like, freckles.” 

“Y-yeah, yeah, I guess- I guess I do.” Ranboo made a very interesting huffy-laugh sound. “Um. The secret?”

It was hard to think. Maybe that was why Tubbo was saying this, maybe that was why I was revealing the one secret that only three other people on the planet knew.

“I’m fae,” he whispered, his breath making Ranboo’s ears twitch. “Or half, at least, anyway. My mom was.” 

Ranboo let out a soft sound.

“That was how you made Tommy leave.” 

Tubbo huffed out a sigh.

“Yeah. When someone gives me their name I can- I can make them do shit. It’s one of the only things I can do, though, I didn’t get much in the way of magic.” 

Ranboo blinked. 

“But-but there’s more than that, isn’t there? With you being fae.” 

Tubbo winced, both because Ranboo had touched on the exact thing he’d been wanting to avoid, and because his insides hurt.

“Yeah, um. I can’t lie. I can dodge around stuff, obviously, but if someone asks me a question, I have to answer it honestly.” Tubbo absently twisted some of Ranboo’s hair in his fingers. It seemed softer than human hair. 

“Oh. Uh- I’m sorry.”

“I know you can’t help it.” Tubbo looked down, focusing very intently on the light from the window nearby. 

“Is there anything else?” Ranboo asked, then groaned and slapped one hand against his forehead. “Oh, no, sorry.” 

Tubbo laughed a little.

“You’re fine, really, I don’t mind. I trust you.” He let out a breath, though, making a face. “But, uh, if I make a promise, I have to keep it. No buts, no cuts.” 

Ranboo opened his mouth, then shut it again with a guilty expression. Tubbo gave him a wry glance.

“You want to ask another question.” 

“Yeah,” Ranboo said meekly. “I just- I don’t know much about the fae, and I’ve never met one, before you at least, so I want to know, y’know?”

“You’re a dork,” Tubbo laughed, poking his cheek.

“You’re sick,” Ranboo retorted. “You’re probably delirious right now.”

“Mm. Maybe.” Tubbo gave him a sleepy grin. “Still. Go ahead and ask.”

“What happens, um, if you break a promise? That you make?”

“Ugh. Beats me.” Tubbo huffed, readjusting how he lay so his shoulder wasn’t going numb. Stupid tingly nerves. “I don’t know if it’s even possible, really. Maybe I can’t. Maybe if I do, I die on the spot. Maybe I turn into a tree, I dunno, there’s not a lot about it online or in books.” 

Ranboo nodded, and turned slightly so he was leaned with his back against the couch instead. After a minute, he poked Tubbo in the nose with one finger.

“Hey.” 

“Hm?” Tubbo, who’d been trying to doze, opened an eye. 

“You need to eat,” Ranboo said. Tubbo reluctantly ate the grape he was handed, and the one after that. 

“Curse your fucking considerate ass,” he grumbled, and saw Ranboo’s equally-amused-and-nervous expression.

“I don’t know whether to be worried or not.” 

“Hm. Not.” Tubbo rolled another grape between his fingers, then reached up to press it against Ranboo’s mouth.

“Mmf- what-”

“Grape,” Tubbo said. “Eat it.”

“Oh, a gift,” Ranboo said, and delicately took the grape in his teeth. Wow, they were sharp. Then he tilted his head back, and the grape disappeared into crunching. 

“Fae can’t curse people,” Tubbo said, and leaned to look at the plate. Hm. Toast? More grapes? Cheese? He picked up a piece of cheese and popped it into his mouth, chewing as he talked. “I don’t even know if I can do magic like that, honestly. All fae have different abilities, and Schlatt never lets me try.”

“Ew, Tubbo,” Ranboo playfully wrinkled his nose. “That’s gross.”

“Shut up, I’m your favorite.” Tubbo picked up another cheese cube and handed it to Ranboo. 

“This food’s for you,” the enderian protested. 

“You haven’t eaten,” Tubbo said. “And I’d probably throw up all over your floor if I ate too much.” He picked at another grape, absently peeling the skin off as Ranboo stood. Then he glanced up. “What are you doing?”

“Getting my phone,” Ranboo said. “I’ll be right back.” 

Tubbo continued to skin his grape. The skin was the worst part, anyway. It was always too bitter, and had a weird feeling when it slipped against his teeth. Ugh. 

Soon enough, Ranboo sat back down next to the plate, typing into his phone and barely looking up when Tubbo clumsily pushed a grape at his face for him to eat, which he did. 

“Okay,” Ranboo said, scanning his phone. “It says here that common fae abilities include weather control, animal speech, plant control, plant speak, something called ‘life sense’, uh, glamour, which is like illusions. Oh, and shape shifting.”

“Hm. Can’t control the weather, that would be sick, animal speech…” Tubbo considered that. “Yeah, no.”

“And those others seem like you’d have to do them on purpose,” Ranboo said, nodding slightly. “Except, uh, life sense.” He paused, as if thinking. 

“Yeah, can’t sense you, bossman,” Tubbo said. “My head hurts, and I already know you’re there. ‘S called eyes.”

“Still.” Ranboo thought for another moment, then stood again. “I’m going to try something. Give me a second.” 

Tubbo watched as he popped out of reality, the ender particles fluttering down to land on his face. He shut his eyes.

He could feel them. Cold, and slightly sharp like snowflakes that melted against his skin after a few moments.

There was a creak.

“Tubbo? Are you asleep?”

Tubbo could feel snowflakes. He opened his eyes, and Ranboo was standing there, a houseplant carefully held in his hands.

“You’ve got plants?” Tubbo asked.

“U-um, a few.” Ranboo was curled slightly into himself as he knelt. “I'm allowed to have them, unlike pets, and they're a little... easier to take care of.” 

“Cool.” Tubbo shifted to the side as Ranboo set the plant down in the couch with him. “I’m guessing you, uh, want me to try to sense it?”

“I guess.” Ranboo shrugged. “Maybe it’ll be easier with a plant? Fae are good with plants, I think.”

“Wow, way to generalize,” Tubbo said, and snickered when Ranboo reddened and stammered. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, you’re alright, it’s a good idea.” He shifted his focus to the plant, inspecting it. “What is it?” 

“Snake plant,” Ranboo said. “It’s supposed to be really hardy, and with my memory, well.” He shrugged again. “Y’know.” 

“Mhm.” Tubbo shut his eyes, then, and tried to figure out how this was supposed to work.

What am I supposed to be looking for? He could hear things, too. The rustle as Ranboo shifted, the hum of the AC, the pipes as someone in another apartment used their water. Tubbo pushed the sounds away. If it like a feeling, or something else? A ‘sense’ is really vague.

Tubbo pushed all the distractions away, not without some nervousness at the fact that he may be ignoring something important.

Snowflakes. 

Tubbo pushed that thought away. There was something else-

There. Brushing against the tops of his hands, where his fingers curled into the dirt of the pot. 

“It feels like bubbles,” Tubbo murmured aloud. And yes, that was true, he could feel tiny gloves of warmth bursting against his skin, but they seemed surrounded by the snowflakes, woven together like two colors of paint in water. 

Snowflakes. Tubbo opened his eyes.

“It worked?” Ranboo looked surprised.

“It did,” Tubbo said, and gently moved the pot and the plant inside to the floor so he could sit up. 

“Are you sure you should-” Ranboo moved forward nervously, but froze as Tubbo. grabbed his face in both hands.

Ranboo was cold, always cold. When Tubbo closed his eyes, he could feel the winter storm under his fingers, snowflakes spinning out and slipping against him. 

“What are you doing?” Ranboo whispered. 

“I can feel you,” Tubbo whispered back. “You- you’re bigger than the plant, it’s everywhere.” 

“You- you, um, you said-”

“Snowflakes.” Ranboo was warming up, with Tubbo’s touch. Either he was flushed, or he was stealing Tubbo’s heat. Bitch. “You feel like snowflakes.” 

There was a long, long moment. Tubbo could feel Ranboo’s heartbeat, inexplicably, pounding against the tip of his pinky. One. Two. Five. Ten.

And Ranboo pulled away.

“Sorry, um.” He chuckled softly, and pushed Tubbo to lay back down. “You should rest, you’re sick and I don’t know if you’re actually sensing things or you just think you’re sensing things.”

Tubbo frowned, but let Ranboo’s hands slip away and settled back down into his pillow, curling the blanket around his shoulders.

“We want you in good shape when you go back to Schlatt’s,” Ranboo said, voice soft as he wrung his hands. “Do you think you’ll eat more?”

“Good shape,” Tubbo muttered bitterly. “I doubt he’ll even notice when I get back.” 

Ranboo paused. 

“Wh- you sound awfully, um…”

“That’s sweet and all, Ranboo, but you don’t have to avoid asking me questions.” Tubbo fiddled with the edge of his blanket. “It’s annoying when it’s done too much, but it doesn’t hurt.”

Ranboo’s mouth tightened, but he asked-

“Doesn’t he care about you?”

“Maybe.” Tubbo twisted so one of his wings could flare out, the back joint having been protesting for a few minutes. “But he also pretends I don’t exist, and it’s-” He sniffled, and looked down. “It’s nice not being alone.” 

Ranboo blinked, and knelt again. His knees must be protesting, since there wasn’t much in the way of a rug on the floor.

“You’re alone a lot?”

Tubbo shrugged. 

“He works a lot. I-it’s nice spending time with him and all, ‘cause it means he cares about me enough to do that, but… even then, it’s not- it’s not what I want.”

Ranboo looked conflicted for a moment, expression cycling through several things, but Tubbo waved at him.

“Spit it out.”

“Why?” 

“Because the longer I spend around him, the more annoyed with me he gets. When I’m around him too long, I start being a nuisance. Or nosy. Or in the way.” He sniffled again, and realized his eyes were wet. Stupid eyes, watering for no reason. He rubbed at them. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

Ranboo shook his head.

“No. No, you’re better off talking about it to a friend than keeping it inside.” 

Tubbo paused, and glanced up.

“You’re my friend? We barely know each other.”

“I know, I just- I just meant in- in general, y’know.” Ranboo looked away awkwardly. “Anyone you trust, really, a-and if you don’t think of me like that, that’s okay, I-”

“No, I-” Tubbo shook his head. “I do think of you as a friend. Just didn’t know about you.” 

“That’s fine,” Ranboo said softly, hands wrapped around his ankles. “I-I’d like to be friends.” 

Tubbo watched him for a second, then let out a small laugh.

“Maybe I am lonely.”

“You’re not.” Ranboo picked his plant back up, resting it in his lap for a moment. “You’ve got Tommy, and me, and I’ll listen whenever you need to talk. And don’t forget that, because I just might.”

Tubbo laughed slightly at that. 

“I’m sure you’d forget your own name first.”

Ranboo hesitated, then winced.

“Actually…”

“Oh my god, you forgot your name once?” Tubbo sat up in shock.

“It was only for a little bit,” Ranboo said hastily, “I panicked and started looking for my name in places, and eventually Wilbur called me and asked why I wasn’t at work, so I remembered.” 

“Damn.” Tubbo tilted his head to the side. “Do you really forget stuff all the time?”

Ranboo shrugged.

“Eh? Usually I write important stuff down, but if I forget something, if it’s not some major usually I go about my day without realizing. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.”

“Huh. What about, like, eating?”

“Oh yeah,” Ranboo said, “I forget that all the time. Except I have sticky notes all over my kitchen just in case. Usually then I can eat, but, uh.” He smile-winced. “Sometimes Wilbur has to get me to eat at work because I’ve forgotten four or five times.”

“That sucks, bossman.” Tubbo twirled his finger and pointed at Ranboo. “That’s smart, though. You’re smart.”

Ranboo’s eyes widened and he dropped his gaze to the floor. He fiddled with his hair as if trying to hide.

“Oh. Thank you.” 

The silence dragged on, before Ranboo jumped up.

“Um, you should get rest, it’s cold so I’ll get some more blankets.” He disappeared, and the ender particles erupted around where he used to be. Tubbo slumped down against his pillow, blinking at the purple sparkles as they fell through the air.

“Maybe you should actually use the doors,” He said, hoping Ranboo could hear. “You’re wasting good money!”

“Ha!” came Ranboo’s reply, two rooms over. “But it saves me time!”

“And time is money?” Tubbo found himself smiling as Ranboo reappeared, holding a pair of fluffy blankets. “You know that saying isn’t literal. You might be smart, but you’re an idiot.”

Ranboo scoffed, dropping the blankets right on Tubbo’s face.

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“You don’t even make any sense,” Tubbo retorted, trying to free his antennae and ending up with one blanket wrapped around his middle and one tangled in his legs. “You’re just a noodle boy with a tail.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Ranboo’s mouth, and he bopped Tubbo on the nose.

“But I’m your noodle boy.”

“I disown you,” Tubbo said primly, earning a betrayed gasp as he tried to adjust the blankets.

“Well, you can’t disown me, you’re in my house and you need to sleep. I’ll go turn the lights off.” Ranboo stepped away, but Tubbo grabbed ahold of his wrist before he could leave entirely.

“Wait.”

Ranboo looked back.

“Yeah?” 

Tubbo couldn’t look him in the eyes. This was so stupid.

“I don’t want to be alone,” He admitted quietly. He kept his eyes down.

Ranboo was quiet for a bit, as if weighing his options. 

“I’ll go turn off the light,” he said. “And then I’ll be right back.”

Tubbo nodded, trying to not do the cowardly thing and change his mind. “Okay.”

When the lights were off, making everything significantly dimmer, Ranboo sat down on the floor, leaning against the couch next to Tubbo’s feet.

“You don’t have to sit on the floor,” Tubbo said, blinking slowly. Ranboo gave him a wry glance.

“Where else am I supposed to sit? You’re kind of taking up the whole couch.”

“Be a problem solver,” Tubbo said, yawning into the pillow as he curled up tighter, creating a chunk of space where his feet used to be. “Honestly, Ranboo.” 

“Okay, that can’t be comfortable,” Ranboo said. 

“Don’t care. Get on up.”

“I’m not going to-”

“Ranboo,” Tubbo whined. “It’s soooo lonely up here! Why are you all the way down there?”

“Tubbo-” Ranboo let out a long, crackly sigh, but moved up to flop down in the space, tucking himself up tight as possible so his knees were under his chin and his hands were on his shoulders.

“That can’t be comfortable,” Tubbo mumbled, peering out from underneath his mostly-closed eyes.

“Don’t care,” Ranboo said, echoing Tubbo’s earlier words.

Tubbo snickered, trying to prod Ranboo in the stomach with his foot and succeeding after a few attempts.

“Why are you never like this at work? It would be so much more entertaining.”

“Because I don’t feel like it.”

“You’re lyyyying,” Tubbo said, poking him again.

“Fine. I’m not like this at work because there’s a bunch of people all around me and it makes me wildly uncomfortable.”

"But I don't make you uncomfortable?" Tubbo asked, grinning.

"No, you do. Just less so than everyone else." Ranboo smiled slightly, but the gesture was rather blurry. “You’re still practically a stranger.”

“But I’m your faaavorite, I’m his faaaaavorite.”

"You're definitely more entertaining than most."

“That makes me your favorite,” Tubbo insisted groggily. He’d used up all that energy figuring out how to sense plants and Ranboo, it seemed.

“It makes you in need of sleep.” One of Ranboo’s hands spread out on his back, right in between his folded wings. “Rest, Tubbo.”

“Mm… your hand’s cold.” Tubbo knew he had a fever. He just hadn’t realized until now, feeling the icicles that were Ranboo’s hands.

“Is that bad?”

“No, ‘s nice.” Tubbo moved slightly, the comforting chill seeping through his shirt. "If I fall 'sleep, you won’t… you won’t go anywhere, right?"

"No, I'm staying right here." Ranboo’s hand moved slightly, but paused and pulled away as if he’d lost the nerve to follow through.

"Mmm. Night, Boo."

"Night, Tubbo."

—————

When Tommy woke up again, his head was much clearer. In the next moment or two, memories collided and hatred for who he’d been sparked in his stomach, roaring in a flame behind his ribs.

Tommy spared a glance around. Phil, Wilbur and Techno were all sitting around him, Phil and Wilbur sitting on either side of him while Techno sat at the end of the bed. Techno was reading a well-loved and extremely worn paperback, Wilbur was dozing, and Phil was staring off into space, idly twirling a broken feather in his hands.

They’re all still here, Tommy realized. 

Well. He couldn’t hide from this anymore. 

Tommy cleared his throat and sat up, Techno and Phil’s heads snapping to him.

“Tommy!” Phil half-got up, moving closer, but Tommy held his hand up to stop him. 

“Wait. Um.” Tommy coughed, and cleared his throat again. Wow. He sounded awful. “I’m… sorry.” 

Phil blinked. 

“For what?”

“For what I did,” Tommy said. He could taste bile, spitting it out with his next words. “When I was delirious.” Heat crawled up the back of his neck. He’d thought Phil was his dad. He’d started crying, afraid of people he knew but hadn’t recognized. The things he’d said…. What he’d revealed…

It made him even more sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, this time more lamely. “I know I didn’t make a lot of sense.”

“You sure didn’t,” Techno agreed, shaking Wilbur to wake him up. “The murder confession was kind of funny.” 

Tommy paled, and looked down. Red shoes red hands red shoes red hands red sleeves red shoes red hands hands hands hands no no no no-

His stomach churned, and it must’ve showed on his face.

“Tommy?” Wilbur blinked groggily at him. “You good?” 

Tommy stumbled out of bed and to the bathroom. 

He’d emptied his stomach for the second time when there was a creak. 

“Go away,” he said, trying to breathe through the congestion in his nose and the bike in his throat. 

“Sorry,” Phil said, and there was a hand between his wings. “I’m kind of here to take care of you. Can’t very well do that if I leave you to deal with this alone, can I?”

Tommy sniffed, dropping his arms to his lap. Phil pressed the glass of a cup against his hands, and Tommy took it in shaking fingers to wash the taste of vomit out of his mouth. 

Phil was silent all throughout that, but when Tommy wordlessly set the cup aside he gently pulled a broken feather out of one of Tommy’s wings. 

“What happened to your dad, Tommy?” 

Tommy looked away, but he scratched at his hands and wrists, trying to dislodge the flakes of dried blood that weren’t actually there. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Phil gently took one of his hands to stop him. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. I just don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“He died,” Tommy said roughly, hand curling into a fist. “What more is there to it?”

“I’m guessing by the way you reacted to Techno, there’s a lot.” 

Tommy wouldn’t look at Phil. He couldn’t look at Phil, when he looked so much like- like-

“You look like him,” Tommy said. It was quiet. Maybe Phil hadn’t even heard.

Phil’s hand lifted off like it had been burned.

It seemed he had.

“I do?”

“Yeah.” Tommy sniffed again, harder this time. “You’ve got the same hair. Kinda same wings. You smile the same.” 

“Oh.” 

Phil didn’t say anything else. That made it feel a little bit easier. 

“I was thirteen,” Tommy said. “My parents’ anniversary was coming up, and I was out with my dad shopping for gifts for my mom. He was wearing a white shirt, and his work shoes. Said he’d just come from a job, so he hadn’t had time to change. When he came home from work, though, he always smelled kind of sour, like bad fruit. He didn’t smell like that then.” Tommy cleared his throat. “And then he saw something in an alley. He asked me to wait, and look around for a gift, and he’d be back soon. I waited. I looked in the windows of stores, and looked at vendors selling stuff. There was a flower stand, and there was a flower I really wanted my dad to see. The lady running it let me take a little bit, and I went after him. A-and-” He shook his head, trying to stop the way his mind spun into a thousand runaway electric currents. “There was a knife, my dad was with two guys and one of them had a knife. He- he-” He shook his head again, this time harder.

“Hey, it’s alright, I heard enough.” Phil’s hand was on his head in the moment before Tommy toppled against him. 

“I couldn’t save him,” Tommy whispered, now unable to stop. “I tried, but there was- there was so much- I couldn’t stop it, I tried, but the ambulance didn’t get there in time a-and there was so much-”

“Shh, shh, that’s enough.” Phil was holding his head, smoothing his hair gently, gently, like he deserved it, like his hands could ever be clean and his shoes would ever be anything other than red.

“God, it stinks,” Tommy muttered into the older avian’s chest. “You scrub and scrub, but it dries in layers and sets into stains and that’s it, you’re marked forever. Do you know how much it stinks? Like copper, and salt, and death.” 

“Tommy, Tommy, it’s okay, you don’t have to-”

“I can’t stop it,” Tommy whimpered, “I try but I can’t stop it and you’ll all be empty by the time you decide to stick around-”

There was a sharp pinch on his neck and Tommy yelped, startling out of his thoughts with a jerk. 

He knelt there for a moment, panting and blinking rusty stains into white tile as he held a hand over the pinched spot.

Finally he lowered his hand, breathing reasonably under control.

“Sorry, I- sorry.” The shame welled up again, this time brought on by just how much he’d been unable to shut up about. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, Tommy, don’t be sorry.” Phil pulled him closer, and this time Tommy was limp to it, swallowing back a soft chirp as a hand brushed over his wings. “You had something awful happen to you. I’m sorry this happened at all.” 

Tommy huffed softly. 

“Don’t bother. You can’t change any of it.” He glanced over as a shadow crossed the doorway, defining itself as Wilbur with Tecno behind him. Tommy pulled away, wings tucking against his back. “Any of you. Don’t bother, just…” he waved a hand absently. “Leave me be so I don’t make even more of a mess in your lives.” 

Wilbur crouched so he was closer to Tommy’s eye level.

“Like hell we will,” he said. “You’re not a mess, Tommy, just a little feverish right now.”

“I’m not,” Tommy snapped. 

“Yeah? Phil?”

“You still are, mate, that’s probably why everything feels so much bigger to you right now.”

Tommy folded his arms. 

“Bitch, you don’t deserve getting your lives fucked up just because you want to hang out with me.” 

“I’m an avian, and you’re just a kid.” Phil raised both eyebrows. “Being very, very concerned with your well-being is in the job description.” 

Tommy scowled at him, and leveled that same scowl at Wilbur.

“You’re going to regret this,” he warned them.

Wilbur grinned.

“I think that’s a risk we’re going to take.”

Chapter Text

Tubbo’s plan was simple, or at least simple to him- ditch Charlie, follow Wilbur around, catch him talking to the Syndicate members, call the cops on him and….

Yeah, that was where Tommy got confused. What about work? What if Niki got arrested too? He had ramen cups to buy, goddammit, and he couldn't do that if he was unemployed. 

Tommy brushed up against some old-looking boxes, sending up a cloud of dust that made him sneeze.

“Shh!”

“You try sneaking around an area full of dust!” 

“I am, and I’m doing a better job than you are!” Tubbo looked around, then clapped a hand over Tommy’s mouth, dropping his own voice’s volume. “Wait, I can hear something.” He tipped his head to the side, getting a mildly glazed expression. “It’s a group of people, off the the…. Southwest side of us.”

“What? Where’s-” Tommy was promptly pulled down into a crouch behind another stand of barrels.

“Is this everything?” a voice asked. 

“I believe so, sir. There’s ten boxes of ‘em right here. Plus five more just on the other side of the room.” another voice answered. 

“How do we know this is what we asked for?” a third voice chimed in. “How do we know you aren’t scamming us out of our money?”

“Take a look,” the second voice said. “Fresh gunpowder from the mayor’s farms.” 

Tommy peeked over, hoping he wouldn’t be seen, and caught a glimpse of a trio of people inspecting the barrels.

One, with a beautifully-made eagle mask, stepped forward, popping the lid on the closest barrel. Nemesis, Tommy’s mind supplied. The terrorist dug her hand into the grey dust, releasing the strong smell of sulphur.

“You haven’t stretched the amounts?” Nemesis asked, dusting her hand off on her long coat.

“No.” The gunpowder supplier sounded annoyed. “Why would we?”

“It’s nothing against you.” The Syndicate member replaced the lid. “Just caution. People are untrustworthy.” 

“Well, there’s no gravel in it, any of it. Am I getting my money or not?”

“Fine.” The other Syndicate member, the one with the plague-doctor mask, handed over a stack of cash. “When’s your next shipment coming in?”

“It takes a month or two to get this much gunpowder, if that’s what you’re asking.” the stranger flipped through the stack, counting bills. “This isn’t what we agreed on.”

“Then maybe you should’ve delivered on time. Aren’t you glad you didn’t short us?”

“If you wanted the delivery on time, your bouncer shouldn’t have started a fight and gotten the police dogging everyone’s trails from here to the river.”

“Then go ask him about the price, not me.” Nemesis’s mask eyes gleamed. “I’m sure he’d love to hear why you should be paid more.”

The supplier gulped, but other than that didn't make any signs of nervousness. 

“Where is he?”

Nemesis jerked her head. 

“Busy. If you want to talk to him, you’ll have to wait a bit.”

“I’ll show you the way,” the plague-doctor guy started walking, edges of his wide-sleeved coat dragging on the ground.

That one’s the avian, Tommy remembered, and watched the gap between the floor and the coat, trying to catch a glimpse of his wings.

“Let’s follow him,” Tommy whispered to Tubbo, receiving a nod in reply.

Checking to make sure that the others were looking away, the two teenagers ducked after the gunpowder smuggler and the avian, following them through the warehouse and back outside. There was a rickety shed leaning up against the outside wall, and Tommy stopped when the two vanished inside.

“Right,” he whispered, crouched behind something covered with a tarp. “What next, do we just wait here until they come back out? Or do we snoop around until they do?”

“Let’s wait.” Tubbo’s antennae were unusually active today, twitching back and forth. He frowned, and turned around. Tommy glanced back as well.

“What is it?” 

“There’s someone back there,” Tubbo murmured. “It’s like…” he frowned deeper and stood, despite Tommy tugging on his arm.

“What are you talking about? Tubs, you dumbass, you’re gonna get us caught.”

“I’ll be back,” Tubbo said, and pushed Tommy’s hand away. “Wait here.” 

—————

Tubbo kept his footsteps quiet as he followed the shadow flickering between stacks of boxes. Now that he was away from Tommy and the energy that flickered around him like ragged scraps of paper, it was easier to feel-

Huh. 

Huh.

Tubbo took a few more steps and flared his wings out, landing on top of one of the vague pyramids. 

“What are you doing here?”

Ranboo whirled and flushed.

“What are you doing here?”

Tubbo struggled to form a sentence that wouldn’t give away what he was actually doing.

“Looking around with Tommy,” he managed to say, and scowled at Ranboo. “Bitch.” 

“Sorry. I forgot.” Ranboo looked down. “I’m on a walk.”

“A walk?” Tubbo raised his eyebrows, hopping down a couple boxes. “Around a weird warehouse?”

Ranboo shrugged awkwardly. 

“It’s quiet. And it’s kind of like a maze, which is cool because every time I come here I have to find my way again.”

“Huh. That’s cool, I guess.” Tubbo didn’t want to sound uncaring, he was just worried about Tommy. He glanced back. “I-I really should go, I don’t want to ditch Tommy.”

“Wait wait, um, wait just a second.” Ranboo teleported right in front of Tubbo, very awkwardly blocking him. “There was something I wanted to show you.”

Tubbo blinked. For a second, his gaze flickered to the corner he’d turned to get here. Tommy would be waiting. 

“You don’t have to,” Ranboo said softly. “I-I just thought it would be nice to do something with you that wasn’t work or had to do with you being sick, y’know?”

Tubbo looked back at him. Ranboo’s eyes were down, like he wasn’t really expecting agreement. 

Tubbo understood that feeling.

“Yeah,” he said, just as soft. “Yeah, uh, show me the thing, bossman.” 

Ranboo’s ears perked up, and he bounced a little as he dug out his phone.

“Okay, so, um, it’s less of a thing and more of a song, I heard it the other day and was like ‘huh, this is kinda cool, maybe Tubbo would want to hear it’.”

“What if I don’t like music, though?” 

Ranboo paused. He looked mildly afraid when he looked up at Tubbo, like a dog who’d done something bad.

Tubbo cracked at that, laughing and tapping Ranboo on the nose.

“You’re cute. I’m just messing with you, bossman.” 

“Oh void below- that’s mean!” Ranboo protested, and Tubbo laughed harder.

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist!” 

Ranboo huffed at him.

“Maybe I won’t play the song now.”

“I’m sorry, really,” Tubbo said, half-slapping Ranboo’s shoulders both in reassurance and also because he’d nearly fallen over. “Go crazy, boo boy.” 

Ranboo pressed play and Tubbo listened, sitting down on the top box of the pyramid. 

He absently nodded along to the beat, which felt like the kind of song that you’d listen to at night, alone in an empty room. It was nice. 

But when Tubbo opened his eyes, Ranboo was there, the sun on his face and hair. He was swaying along as well, all lanky limbs that somehow managed to not get tangled. He was singing too, soft but matching the lyrics. 

After a moment his eyes flickered up, and he held out a hand. 

Tubbo raised both eyebrows. 

“What is this?”

“I’ll feel weird by myself,” Ranboo said. “C’mon.” 

“Mmm…” Tubbo frowned exaggeratedly. “I dunno, bossman…”

“Please? Will you dance with me?”

Tubbo blinked. Something about Ranboo’s expression…

He took the hand, and let himself be pulled up. Tubbo managed to mimic Ranboo’s movement, though after a moment one of his hands was lifted around his head in an effort to spin him around.

“You can do it,” Ranboo coaxed, and Tubbo huffed at him and spun under his arm. “There you go. You’re so scowly.” 

“Resting bitch face, boo boy.” Tubbo, reaching the end of the spiral, let his arm swing up to continue the line. His wings snapped open with the movement, catching at the wind. “It’s a skill.” 

“Mhm.” Ranboo made a face at him, hands finding each other again. “Like this now, see?”

Tubbo watched for a moment, following the way Ranboo’s feet stepped, though he didn’t notice the way the steps themselves shortened so he could actually reach. 

“You got it!” Ranboo actually sounded… happy. Tubbo wasn’t used to people sounding happy with him. He glanced up, under his hair, and saw Ranboo give him a grin. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Maybe,” Tubbo said, and grinned back. 

The song ended, and a newer, peppier one started playing. Ranboo stepped back towards his phone, which he’d set on a box, but Tubbo was temporarily insane so he grabbed Ranboo’s hand again.

“Aw, backing out now?”

Ranboo paused, and looked back. He blinked. 

Then he smiled, just a little, and let Tubbo pull him closer and try to spin him under one arm.

“You’re too tall!” Tubbo protested with a huff, then hopped onto a taller box and succeeded. “Haha! I did it!” 

“You’re still kicking my legs!” Ranboo complained with a laugh, and Tubbo stuck his tongue out. 

“Sucks to suck!” Still, he tried to coordinate his movements more with Ranboo’s, stepping back down and letting himself be spun around, wings flying open with the movement. 

“Can you really fly with those?” Ranboo asked. 

“Yeah,” Tubbo said, then frowned and looked back when he heard a weird sound.

Ranboo pushed him off the pyramid.

Okay, not really. Tubbo’s hands were still carefully being held, so instead his wings snapped out and kept him up so instead he swung around, making an orbit around Ranboo like he was the sun.

“Bitch!” He said once his feet were safely on the ground, but found himself laughing again and following along as Ranboo pulled him into something reminiscent of a waltz, if the entirely wrong beat and spinning way more tightly.

This was… nice. Tubbo looked up at Ranboo, and surprise must’ve shown on his face because Ranboo tilted his head. 

“Are you okay?” 

Tubbo blinked.

“Y-yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I am.” 

—————

Tommy was getting tired of waiting.

He stood up, ready to go find Tubbo, then not a second later found himself pressed to the ground, yelp muffled by a hand over his mouth. There was a knee on his back, pinning his wings, and as he squirmed the wrench on the muscles made him whimper before a gag was tied around his mouth.

"Careful with his wings!" A voice from earlier hissed as a rope wound around him. Syndicate member, Tommy knew that, but in his haze of panic he couldn’t remember which one.

"I'm trying," Nemesis replied, also at an angry whisper. "He keeps squirming!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't have jabbed your fucking knee into his wings." 

"If I hadn't, I wouldn't have gotten him quiet and he would've screamed for his friend. You don't want to do this twice, do you?"

There was a sigh.

"Fine. Pick him up so we can get him to the shed.”

The shed. Get him.

Shit.

Tommy redoubled his attempts at getting free of the rope.

It was unsuccessful, and when he was dropped on the floor of the shed, he let out a muffled yelp when his knees smacked into the concrete.

“Sorry,” Nemesis said.

There were footsteps, and Tommy looked up through watery eyes to see three Syndicate members standing in front of him. Plague doctor mask, animal skull mask with red eyes. Definitely Syndicate.

“Nem, gag off,” Animal-skull said. “Try screaming, it goes back on. Understand?”

Tommy nodded.

A second later, he was trying to banish the dryness in his mouth as he scowled up at the Syndicate members.

“Are you gonna kill me?” He forced out. “Because I found out about your secret plans?”

“No,” the one in the plague doctor mask said. “I don’t see a point in killing you, Tommy.”

Tommy scowled.

“Of course. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.” 

“Zephyrus,” the man said, inclining his head. “And I am telling the truth.”

“Uhuh.” Tommy’s gaze flicked past all of the Syndicate members. Nemesis, the one with the skull mask, Zephyrus. “Looks like you’re missing a goon, buddy.”

“Lethe is…. On a different assignment.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Nemesis said, but Zephyrus idly waved a hand.

“It’s not everything, Nem. What’s he going to do, run off and tell people that Lethe is doing something besides this?”

“If we hadn’t jumped him, he might not have even seen us,” Animal-skull pointed out.

“Okay, okay, I get it, maybe I overreacted.” Zephyrus looked to Tommy. “Do you know why you’re here?” 

“It’s because of my wings,” Tommy replied matter of factly, completely lying through his teeth. Still, if he came up with a crazy conclusion, they wouldn’t stop and wonder why there was gunpowder dusting his shoes. “But I’m sorry to inform you that they’re pieces of shit and won’t go very well on the black market.”

The lie had an interesting reaction. Zephyrus looked taken-aback, while Nemesis and Animal-skull exchanged a glance.

“Oh sure, cardinals are interesting enough,” Tommy said more truthfully, shrugging and feeling a few more feathers snap off and brush against his ankles, “but again, my wings suck. You won’t have much luck selling these babies.”

“We- we’re not going to sell you,” Zephyrus snapped, and his wings clearly puffed up under his cloak.

Tommy tried to keep track of where loose feathers dropped out and curled on the floor. He couldn’t see what color they were in the light, so he’d have to grab one and look at it later.

“You’re just a kid,” Nemesis said, “we’re not selling you off.”

Tommy scowled again.

“Then what do you want from me?”

“Your silence,” Zephyrus said. He leaned down, propped on one knee and mask nearly poking Tommy’s eye out. “This is a warning.”

“A warning for what?” Tommy snapped. “You know, most shitheads who do stuff like this stick to sending ominous messages threatening my family in cut-out letters or whatever.”

“Oh yes, family.” Zephyrus reached down and brushed something out of Tommy’s hair, making him flinch. “Like Tubbo, right?”

Tommy regarded him warily.

“How do you know about Tubbo?”

A tilt of the mask, so the beak dipped sideways.

“Why do you think he left you?”

Tommy, overwhelmed by the urge to protect Tubbo, lunged forward but only ended up face-first on the cement, still tied up like a fucking prisoner. 

“If you hurt him,” he said, a borderline-painful rumbling noise rising in his chest and making his wings shake, “If you hurt him I’ll- I’ll-”

“You’ll do what?” Zephyrus slipped one hand under Tommy’s chin, raising his head so their eyes met. “We won’t hurt him. For now.” 

Tommy resisted the urge to bite the hand. If there was one thing that Zephyrus and Wilbur shared, it was in being able to piss him off.

“Then what?” he growled. “What do you fuckers want from me?”

“We want you to stay out of our business.” Tommy couldn’t see the Syndicate member’s expression, and that somehow made this whole experience worse. Being watched, anonymously and malevolently, and not knowing the faces of who was watching his humiliation and fear. “Don’t try to find us, don’t tell anyone you saw us.” Tommy’s face was gripped tighter and he swallowed back another whimper. “Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Tommy whispered. “Yeah, but-” he swallowed, and made his voice stronger. “But you can’t stop Tubbo. This was all his idea- he’s the one who talked me into it.”

“Then talk him out of it.”

Tommy couldn’t breathe. The angle his neck was being held at- it bent his throat in a way that made it hard to get enough air, and the longer he stayed there the more his breathing became fast and audible, whimpering in his strained throat. He nodded frantically, and a stuttering chirp left his throat.

“Okay,” he managed to get out. “Okay, I will, I promise.” 

Zephyrus let him go, a little more gently this time. Tommy gasped for breath, forehead pressed to the wonderfully cool stone as he drank down the air for a few moments. Zephyrus murmured something, and Tommy stiffened as a hand brushed over his wings. 

“Alright, we’re done.” Footsteps, too light for the bulk of Animal-skull. Nemesis. “Cut him loose and let’s get out.”

Zephyrus didn’t move. His fingertips dug into one of Tommy’s wings - he stiffened further - but he merely pulled out a loose feather, spinning it idly. From what Tommy could see, barely able to move his head, it was a random contour feather with faint red coloring at the end and shredded barbs. Not attractive, not pricey. 

“Poor thing,” Zephyrus murmured. Like a fucking creep.

“Zephyrus.”

Tommy couldn’t really see, but he could definitely feel when Zephyrus scooped him up into a pair of arms. He thrashed on instinct, though was quickly pinned again and let out an involuntary chirp. 

“Hush,” Zephyrus said, covering his mouth. Tommy could see him better now, being carried bridal style with all of him still roped together. “It’ll be safer if you don’t struggle.”

“Safer?” Tommy asked, the sound muffled by Zephyrus’s hand. “Safer? You’re kidnapping me, bitch! ”

“Nem, I think I’ll need that gag back now.” Then Zephyrus addressed Tommy again, voice surprisingly calm. “You’ll only get hurt if you keep that up.”

“Are you going to take him somewhere else so he won’t follow us?” Nemesis asked slowly. Zephyrus hummed. 

“Sure.”

Tommy thrashed again, breaths stuttering in his throat, but did no more than get his legs pinned and mouth gagged again. 

“Stop that before something happens,” Zephyrus said to him, and Tommy stilled. That was a threat. Was that a threat? He thought they weren’t going to hurt him! Did Zephyrus lie?

A small chirp left Tommy’s throat, stifled slightly through the gag. Shit, there was another, he couldn’t stop it, he was scared he was scared red shoes red shoes red shoes-

Zephyrus’s hand moved to his hair again.

“Shh,” he said, “shh, shh, it’s okay Tommy, you’re alright. You’re alright, I said it all wrong.” 

Still, Tommy squirmed again, trying to get away as he shook his head. 

“Shh,” Zephyrus said again, grabbing for something he was handed by Animal-skull. “Thanks, Protesilaus.” Tommy kept up trying to wriggle away. “Tommy, hold still or I might drop you, alright? Hold still, okay?”

Tommy stilled again. He really didn’t want to be dropped.

What he did was sneeze when something spritzed him in the face, Zephyrus laughing a little before spritzing himself.

A moment later, they both disappeared. 

Oh. Invisibility potion.

“I’m going to walk now,” Zephyrus said, and it sounded odd with the sound and the vibrations but no visible face. A second later he began to do so, Tommy’s head lolling against his chest. “If you flail around now, I might step on you. Calm down now, it’ll be alright.” He gently smoothed Tommy’s feathers again, crooning slow and soft. 

Tommy blinked, also slow. It was the first truly avian sound he’d heard out of Zephyrus, and between that and the way he rocked slightly with each step, he was starting to get… tired.

His gag tasted funny. Like mushroom, maybe. 

Tommy found it hard to think. So instead he closed his eyes, and leaned his face into the warmth, and let himself fall asleep. 

—————

“Tubbo?” 

“Mm?” 

“Do you… do you remember why you were over at my house?” 

Tubbo blinked, and looked up again. 

“Uh… I was sick. Why?”

Ranboo looked startled, and his ears flicked back and he looked away. 

“U-um. No reason. Just trying to remember.” He began to pull away, but with the warmth and the closeness a part of Tubbo panicked and he stepped along, hands on Ranboo’s wrists. 

Ranboo paused.

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo was being such an idiot. More than idiot, he was being annoying and clingy and-

His head fell, slightly, resting against Ranboo’s chest. God, he ached. 

He could feel Ranboo’s chest rise, slightly, with a small breath in.

“Oh,” Ranboo said. 

“Sorry,” Tubbo mumbled, letting Ranboo’s hands go. “Sorry, I’m being- ‘m being weird. I-I-I should go find Tommy.”

“Tommy? Oh, uh…” Ranboo’s hands fidgeted for a second, flickers of snow and fingertips on Tubbo’s shoulders before he pulled his phone out. “Can you ask him where he is?”

Tubbo huffed slightly.

“No,” he said. “I don’t have my phone on me right now.”

It was tracked, so if he wanted to get away with this he couldn’t have brought it without someone noticing he wasn’t at home, Tommy’s house, or work. 

“Ah. Uh… I’ll text him, then.” Ranboo’s free hand typed out a message on his phone, the other still hovering awkwardly near Tubbo’s shoulder.

“You’ve got his number?”

“Yeah, from Wilbur.”

“Oh.” Tubbo sniffed, and swiped his hand over his eyes. What if something had happened to Tommy? What if he’d been captured by the Syndicate or worse? 

“Hey, you okay?”

Shit. 

“Y’know, Ranboo, sometimes people don’t want to be asked that,” Tubbo said, voice much wobblier than he intended. Oh god oh god oh god he couldn’t lose Tommy not like this not now. “S-sometimes people have to answer truthfully to any question they’re asked and they don’t want to do that all the time.” 

“Oh.” Ranboo’s voice was soft. “I’m sorry.” 

His other hand lightly rested on Tubbo’s hair, between the antennae, and Tubbo wanted to crumble he wanted to break Ranboo’s arm he wanted to fall into sobbing pieces he wanted to be held he wanted to be held- 

Tubbo bit down the noise rising in his throat, trying his damn hardest to push back the tears, but his face was wet already and it wasn’t like Ranboo would see anyway. It felt like water was pooling over his scalp, prickles of heat on his skin.

“Why- why are you so fucking nice to me?” he asked.

Ranboo’s hand lifted away like it had been burnt. Shit fuck why couldn’t Tubbo do a single fucking thing right-

But after a moment, there was a gentle pat on Tubbo’s head.

“Because you’re my friend. And because you deserve it.” 

There was a ding from Ranboo’s phone and he evidently was distracted.

“Tommy’s mom wanted him to get something done at his house,” Ranboo said. “He’s really really sorry but he couldn’t wait so he got a ride home with Wilbur.”

Tubbo wanted to scream.

“What about me?”

A pause. 

“He says you can get a ride with Wilbur too. I-I can text him, if you want?”

Tubbo huffed a little, and dried his face before he looked back up, pulling away and trying to pretend he hadn’t been crying.

“Sure. Thanks, bossman. You’re…” he didn’t know how to finish. He shrugged instead. 

“I’m what?” Ranboo asked, then promptly looked apologetic. 

“You’re not half-bad,” Tubbo said, purposefully making his voice light.

Ranboo smiled a little, and Tubbo felt a bit better. The enderian fell into a slight bow.

“Why, thank you. I appreciate it.” He checked his phone again. “Wilbur will be here in, like, ten minutes.”

“Okay.” Tubbo forced himself to let out a breath, and went to sit down on one of the boxes. Ranboo sat nearby too, and Tubbo gave him a mildly confused look. “What’s up?”

Ranboo blinked at him, then stammered and scratched at his arm.

“I-I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“Aw, you’d worry about me?” Tubbo tipped his head to the side, and giggled a little as Ranboo stammered harder. 

“I-I-I don’t- I don’t- This is kind of- kind of a sketchy neighborhood, y’know?” 

Tubbo considered that.

“Fair,” he said finally. “Dunno how good you’d be in a fight, though. You’re kind of spindly.”

Ranboo made an offended noise, Tubbo laughed harder, and the conversation went on from there while they waited.

—————

ThumpCRACK

Dad what’s wrong please please why won’t you get up why are you bleeding what’s wrong I don’t know what to do dad dad please no no no don’t close your eyes make it stop make it stop make it st-

Tommy woke with a jolt. At first he didn’t know what was happening, brain spinning with old memories and he couldn’t move he couldn’t move he couldn’t breathe there was something tied around him-

He wrenched himself around, unable to think through the silence pounding into his ears.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” There were hands on his shoulders, keeping him from moving. “Shh, shh, you’re alright, it’s alright.” 

As Tommy blinked the panic out of his mind, he saw a familiar plague mask looming over him, the head of the hands keeping him down. A whimpering chirp left his mouth, but Zephyrus merely made a soothing noise and smoothed his hair.

“Just breathe, you’re alright. I’m sorry, I should’ve untied you before you woke up. Relax a little so I can undo these, alright?”

Tommy reluctantly did so, and the second he was free he sat up, curling his wings around himself. As always, broken shafts brushed against his skin, either prickly or sharp enough that he’d gotten hurt before.

Zephyrus watched this, and before he could say anything Tommy took matters into his own hands.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said, voice raspy from the gag. “I’m sick of people staring at me like I’m broken. I’m not.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Zephyrus stood, walking over to a door. “I’ll go get you some water.”

When he was gone, Tommy jumped up, testing the handle on the door. Locked. 

Shit. He sighed, then turned around and scanned the room.

It was dark. The curtains were drawn, and between those and the cardboard boxes stacked across the floor the room looked more like a cave. Tommy knelt to inspect one of the closer boxes. It was taped shut, a meaningless set of symbols scrawled on the side in black marker. Code, probably. 

Tommy let his eyes fall to the dingy carpeted floor, and he tilted his head.

Laying next to the box, as if just barely fallen, was a feather. Brown and barred, faded into white near the bottom. Tommy picked the feather up.

“Wilbur,” He breathed. Strike three. There was a rattle at the door, and Tommy turned, stuffing the feather into his back pocket.

Zephyrus shut the door and turned to inspect Tommy, glass winking in the light.

“There’s nothing you’ll be able to find,” He said, walking forward with a rustle  of fabric and hidden feathers. “The boxes are merely storage, and you can’t open them anyway. Plus, you have no way of telling where you are.”

"I can send my friends my location,” Tommy said boldly.

"Yeah, I know.” Zephyrus knelt. “That’s why I took your phone already.” He held the cup outward. “Go on.”

Tommy inspected the cup warily. It seemed alright, just clear water in a clear glass cup. 

“I won’t try anything if you won’t,” Zephyrus said with the slightest lilt of amusement to his voice. 

Tommy scowled at him, but took the cup and drank. The water seemed fine, if overly-tasteless. It came from a fridge, probably. Oh well. At the least, it was cold. 

Zephyrus easily took the empty cup back, Tommy just then realizing he could’ve smashed it and used it as a weapon, or something.

Instead, he tucked himself into a ball, wings and arms held close.

“How long am I going to be here?” He asked, voice unconsciously small. Inside the protective curl of his wings, he idly picked at his feathers. God, they were shit. Between now and the last few days, they’d totally been fucked over. Hopefully he molted soon. 

“As long as I need,” Zephyrus said. He tilted his head, regarding Tommy.

Tommy frowned back. 

“I thought you said you were only going to make sure I wouldn’t follow you.” 

“Mm. Yes.” Zephyrus propped his unseen chin on one of his fists. “But you’re… intriguing. I’m keeping you here until I make sure you’re going to be okay. Until I make sure you’re not going to run off and immediately tell everyone what, who , you saw.”

Tommy raised his head. 

“And if I don’t? Tubbo will look for me eventually. My mom will look for me eventually.”

“Tommy, someone with my connections wouldn’t have a very hard time making you disappear.” Zephyrus leaned forward, voice dropping into something more dangerous. “If I wanted, it would be like you didn’t exist.” 

Tommy swallowed back half of a nervous chirp, and Zephyrus idly waved one hand. 

“I don’t want that, though. I just want you to believe I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tommy scowled.

“Fat chance, bitch.” 

“Then I guess neither of us will get what we want.” Zephyrus stood, and walked for the door. Before he could leave, however, Tommy’s stomach twisted and growled. Zephyrus looked back at him. “I’ll get you some food.” 

When the door closed, Tommy wrapped his arms tightly around himself, wings tucking into him. Why was he the one to get kidnapped? Tubbo was the one who pulled him into this insane plan! Maybe he should’ve been kidnapped instead!

Tommy sighed. Tubbo didn’t deserve that. Better Tommy take the brunt of this. 

He couldn’t hear footsteps. No voices, no clacking of moving objects, no music or cars passing outside. 

It was silent.

And it was deafening. 

Too quiet, Tommy couldn’t help thinking. It’s too quiet.

The silence pressed into his ears, forcing itself into his nose and mouth. As Tommy waited, it began to choke him, until he chirped, hesitant and quietly. I’m alone. He chirped again, this time louder. Please come- I’m alone- please-

Normally he didn’t make noises like this. Normally he didn’t let himself make noises like this. But now… now he’d take anything but silence.

Tommy continued to chirp, if only to push the quiet away. It was hard to breathe with the way his sounds weren’t answered, left with only echoes. 

And then the silence ended. The door rattled, and Tommy’s head jerked up as Zephyrus reentered the room, holding a bowl. 

“I’m back,” he said, rather obviously. “I’ve brought food.”

Tommy pulled his head back, tucked into his knees.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Your stomach said otherwise.” Zephyrus sat down again, and pushed the bowl towards Tommy. It had stew inside, with thick chunks of meat and vegetables. “And I’m not letting you starve yourself.” 

“I’m not hungry,” Tommy snapped, and turned his entire body away. He wanted to scream, to smash the bowl into a thousand pieces and let the stew spill out on that dark green coat. But he knew that wouldn’t end well. So he did nothing. 

Zephyrus merely sighed.

“Fine. Your choice.”

Tommy waited. And glanced back. Zephyrus didn’t seem angry, just sat there, as patient-appearing as some kind of statue. 

“Is this some kind of plan?” Tommy asked. “You acting- acting like- you’re trying to get me to trust you.” He very carefully tucked himself closer into a little ball, feathers puffing up around him. “It’s not going to work.”

“I'm not surprised. I’m not trying to do anything. I just don’t want to leave a kid alone.”

Tommy scowled.

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’re still young,” Zephyrus said. “And you’re not meant to be alone.” He shook his head. “I’m not the kind of person to do that.”

“But you’re the kind of person to kidnap someone and threaten to keep them forever?” Tommy asked, voice rising. 

“Alright, I’ll admit, that was…. Extreme.” Zephyrus pulled the bowl of soup closer, setting it on a box. It was still steaming, though Tommy tried to pretend that the smell didn’t make him want to drool. 

“You’re not going to apologize, though? Or say it wasn’t true?”  

Zephyrus turned his head to look at Tommy.

“I will apologize. I am sorry, Tommy, and I didn’t want to scare you.” 

Tommy scoffed.

“Sure.” He folded his arms tighter. “And this isn’t going to make me think you’re a good guy. You still kidnapped me.”

“I know,” Zephyrus said. “And I’ll agree, because I’m not a good person. I’m simply a person trying to keep myself and my friends safe. And, at first, I thought you would give up much sooner. It seems we underestimated you.” 

“Of course you underestimated me,” Tommy snapped. “Nobody takes me seriously- why would a terrorist group be any better?” 

Zephyrus’s head tilted. 

“Do people really not take you seriously?”

“Stop doing that!” Tommy clamped his hands over his ears, eyes squeezing shut. “Stop it! Stop!” 

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to be sympathetic! Or act like I need help! I don’t! I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Zephyrus's voice was soft. “Okay, I’ll let you be. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing! Then I’ll feel sorry and I won’t hate you and-” Tommy merely shook his head. 

“I won’t,” Zephyrus said, still quietly. “I won’t, don’t worry.” 

“Just leave me alone,” Tommy forced out.

“I can’t, Tommy.” 

“Why the fuck not?” 

“Because I don’t know what you’ll do if you’re alone. You could hurt yourself on accident, or make too much noise.” 

Tommy opened his eyes, scowling at Zephyrus. 

“Why wouldn’t I make too much noise even with you around?” 

Zephyrus made an amused sound. 

“I can gag you easier.” 

Tommy scowled, but his wings fluffed up and betrayed his fear. 

“I hate you.” 

“Unsurprising.” 

There was quiet as Tommy glowered at the wall in front of him, chirps rising in his throat. Was Zephyrus going to leave again? What if he didn’t? Neither of those seemed very good.

Tommy had pulled very far into himself when there was a light touch on one of his wings and he flinched.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He asked, pulling away and spinning around so Zephyrus couldn’t get anywhere damn near his wings.

“When was the last time your wings were taken care of?” Zephyrus asked in reply. 

“Why do you care?”

Part of Tommy couldn’t help fixating on what it had felt like with a hand on his feathers. When was the last time someone had touched his wings like that? On purpose?

“Your wings look like shit,” Zephyrus said bluntly. “And it might be a factor in why your feathers were so breakable when I was moving you- feather maintenance is important.”

“Shut up,” Tommy muttered. “What would you know?” 

“Oh, where to begin?” Zephyrus leaned on one hand. “I’m an avian too, Tommy, and an older one at that.” His voice dropped in volume, back to something thoughtful. “Does anyone help you with your wings?” 

“No,” Tommy mumbled, tucking his wings closer to his back. “My parents would, but- but they can’t anymore.”

Zephyrus scooted closer slowly, and when the touch returned on Tommy’s wing Tommy himself froze, not sure what to do as fingertips brushed over broken quills and his feathers fluffed up on instinct.   

“Can anyone else help you?” Zephyrus asked, half-unfolding Tommy’s wing. Tommy blinked, feeling kind of… weird. Wobbly. Zephyrus clicked his tongue. “So downy.”

“No,” Tommy said, “I’m not going to bother them with my problems. A-and, and I wouldn’t tell you anyway. It’s none of your business.”

“Maybe I just want to be helpful.” Zephyrus wasn’t wearing gloves anymore, and his hands were warm as he put disheveled feathers back into place. 

“You’re- you’re not-” Tommy swallowed as a contented purring noise rose in his throat. “You’re not helpful.” 

“Sure.” Zephyrus was quiet for a moment, then tugged a loose feather out and flicked it away. “Let me make you a deal- I help you with your wings, and then I let you go.” His other hand cupped under Tommy’s chin, making their eyes meet. “Do you understand, Tommy?” 

Tommy narrowed his eyes.

“What’s the catch?” 

“There isn’t one.” Zephyrus let him go. “I preen your wings, I let you loose.” 

Tommy curled his lip.

“I don’t believe you.” 

“That’s because you don’t trust me.” Zephyrus tilted his head. “I don’t blame you, really, but there’s no agenda. I’m not that kind of person.” 

Tommy let that swirl in his mind for a second. Let a wanted criminal mess with his wings? Ha! 

But. 

After, he’d be free to go. And his wings would be taken care of- really taken care of, for the first time in three years.

Tommy inspected Zephyrus’s mask. What was the Syndicate member thinking, underneath? What kind of expression was he making?

It was impossible to tell, between the black leather and the glass eyepieces. It was getting less and less likely that this was Wilbur- that guy wouldn't be caught dead acting like an avian, much less preen Tommy's wings.

“Well?” Zephyrus asked. 

Tommy sighed, then nodded slowly. 

“Fine,” he said. “Do- do whatever. But if you- if you hurt me, then- then I’m going to the police no matter what. There’s- there’s those detectives, after all, Dream a-and whatever.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Zephyrus said with amusement, getting even closer so he was behind Tommy and tapping the top of one wing. “You’re so tense.” 

Tommy slowly opened one of his wings, stretching it out so Zephyrus could get at the feathers. Shit, it was cold in here. His feathers puffed out now that he wasn’t curled into a ball. Was this room underground? 

“When was the last time you could fly?” Zephyrus asked, clicking in disappointment. He spread Tommy’s wing fully, each and every ragged primary in full view. 

“Dunno,” Tommy said. “Four years, maybe, b-but even then I never really- um. Anyway. I don’t have the time to practice or anything now.” 

“Is your mom too busy?” There was a tug on the feathers near the top of the wing, smoothing broken barbs and pulling out loose feathers. 

“Ever since my dad died,” Tommy mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. “She’s always working, trying to pay off his debts. And I’d rather not fly than not have a roof over my head.” Then Tommy bit his tongue and looked down. Why was he saying all of this? If Zephyrus wanted to know, he would. “And it’s not like anyone would care if my wings were falling to pieces.” He ruffled his feathers, which didn’t itch for the first time in forever, and accidentally let out a soft chirp. Then he stiffened. “Sorry.”

“Oh, you’re alright.” Zephyrus gently smoothed his feathers, working down to the primaries. “It’s a perfectly avian thing to do, especially when someone’s preening your wings.”

Tommy huffed. 

“Makes it sound like I wasn’t kidnapped.” 

“Sure.” Zephyrus made a thoughtful noise, and let Tommy’s wing go. “That one’s done. Now you don’t look like you were caught in a windstorm.” 

“That’s funny,” Tommy sniffed, “ha ha.” He folded the wing back in, and had to admit, it felt a lot better now. Maybe he wouldn’t go straight to the police, as a thank you.

“So,” Zephyrus said after a quiet moment, starting on Tommy’s other wing. “How about other things? Work, friends. Anyone other than Tubbo?” 

Tommy frowned.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity.” 

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Tommy retorted. 

“And satisfaction brought it back,” Zephyrus said, voice oddly playful. “Look, I won’t do anything to them if you do tell, and you don’t even have to tell.” 

Tommy sighed. 

“I don’t have other friends. I have- I have coworkers, and stuff, but… I dunno if they count.” His fingers drummed absently on his knees, which still ached from when he’d been slammed into concrete. He felt… weird, being this vulnerable. “Most people find me annoying.”

Zephyrus snorted. 

“Because you’re the best judge of that.” 

Tommy frowned.

“What?” 

“Hm? Oh, nothing. Just wondering why you think people find you annoying.”

“Because I’m loud,” Tommy said flatly. “Because I’m obnoxious, my sense of humor offends most people, I never know when to shut up, oh, and I’m constantly doing and saying the exact wrong things so people end up hating me. That good enough?”

“I don’t find you annoying.” 

“That’s because this… isn’t exactly a normal situation for me.” Tommy propped his chin on one hand. “Trust me, if I was acting normally, you would’ve either let me go already or decided to just kill me.”

“Doubtful.” Zephyrus paused, then continued- “for adult avians, it’s very hard to be annoyed by kids, especially if there's no one else to look after them. In fact, it’s almost impossible to even leave a kid alone in the first place.” 

“I’m not a kid,” Tommy repeated immediately. 

“You’re still young, and an avian at that.” Zephyrus flicked away a loose feather. “Oh, sure, I’ve been told off a few times because of it, but it’s hard to push those instincts down. Birds of a feather, as they say.”

This was the third avian Tommy had met who had been seemingly fixated on looking after him with almost no prior emotional attachment. Wilbur, Phil, and now Zephyrus. 

So why didn’t his mom act this way? Was she really a good mom if she was constantly leaving Tommy to fend for himself?

“Are you alright?” A hand rested on Tommy’s shoulder for a moment. “If I pulled something-”

“You didn’t, I’m fine,” Tommy said stilly, trying to quickly blink away the tears threatening him. “You can- you can keep going.” 

“You’re upset, Tommy. Did I say something? I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but if I did-”

Tommy sniffled and internally cursed himself as a choking breath accompanied the first tears cutting across his face. Why was he crying? Nothing was wrong. Right?

“Hey, shh, it’s okay.” Zephyrus was making a rattling crooning sound, coming closer so Tommy knew he was near. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, I’m f- I’m fine.” Tommy swiped a hand over his face, finding it hard to properly form words between stuttering chirps. “You don’t- you d-don’t n-need to worry.”

“I’m already worried.”

“And it’s none of your business,” Tommy managed to snap out. 

“Uhuh.” Zephyrus gently scratched at the base of Tommy’s wings, still making that sound. “Why can’t I be worried? I upset you.”

“Because you’re the one who kidnapped me!” Tommy cried out, hiccupping sob-chirps making it hard to speak. “You’re- you’re a terrorist wh-whose friends a-are doing who knows- knows what to Tubbo, a-and I don’t get it. Why- why aren’t you doing an-anything else?” He sniffled again, torn between yanking himself away from Zephyrus or falling back into the kind of touch he hadn’t felt in years. “I don’t- I do-don’t understand.”

“I told you,” Zephyrus said softly.

“You’re not tha-that kind of person, I kn-know.” It was hard to breathe with the chirping. “B-but I don’t believe a terrorist is re-really that nice.”

There was a pause. 

“Oh, Tommy,” Zephyrus said. “I didn’t found the Syndicate so I could hurt people.” He gently brushed through Tommy’s hair. “I have a nickname in the city’s underworld- Angel of Death. Do you know why I got that name?” 

“Because you’re an avian,” Tommy said, “and you kill people.”

A light chuckle. 

“That too. But, uh… originally, it was a bit of an ironic statement. An angel is not meant to be a harbinger of death, or grief or pain. An angel is meant to bring peace, joy and hope. They said I was the kind of angel who saw that you can’t have peace without war, or joy without grief. Hope without loss.” Tommy felt a brush through his hair again. “No good things come without sacrifice. I’m prepared to make that sacrifice for what I want.”

Tommy sniffled and swiped one hand over his eyes again.

“What could you want that could possibly be worth it?”

“A world where no one has to be ashamed of who they are. A world where my family can live without fear, without pain.” 

Tommy rustled his wings, which felt oddly ticklish now. They weren’t finished being preened, so the contrast was stark. 

“And it’s hard to change the world when you’ve been arrested,” Tommy said softly. “I’m a threat.” 

“Oh,” Zephyrus said with a chuckle, “not that much of a threat.” 

“So kidnapping me is pointless.” Tommy folded his arms. “Glad we’ve remembered that.” He tucked himself up again. “You’re really not going to interrogate me or anything?” 

Zephyrus had gone back to preening Tommy’s wings.

“No,” he said. “If you want to tell me something you think will help your case, though, go ahead.” 

“Tubbo thinks you’re our boss,” Tommy said without thinking. 

“Your boss? Who?”

“Wilbur Soot.”

Zephyrus laughed. Actually laughed.

“The baker? Oh, Tommy, your boss has never been involved with any organization like ours, least of all the Syndicate.” He smoothed some of Tommy’s feathers. “Why would you think that?”

“Personally, I thought Wilbur was too lame to be one of you fuckers. It was Tubbo who thought you two were the same person.” Tommy shrugged. “And he never told me why.” 

“You never asked?” Zephyrus wasn't rising to the underhanded insult of Wilbur, which was a point in his favor.

“Tubbo doesn’t like being prodded,” Tommy said quietly. “And I’d much rather let him keep his secrets than risk him dumping me. I don’t have many friends.” 

“Mm.” Zephyrus let Tommy’s other wing go. “Well, that side’s done. Turn around and I can do the underside.” 

Tommy turned, keeping his eyes very carefully on his hands as one wing was folded back out again. 

“Hey, that’s looking a lot better. Do you ever try preening here?” 

“Not exactly,” Tommy mumbled. “I mess around with the feathers sometimes, that’s all.”

“That’s good.” Zephyrus clucked his tongue thoughtfully as he realigned the barbs on a particularly troublesome patch of feathers. 

A soft warble left Tommy’s throat, but he managed to cut it off halfway before he seemed any more ridiculous. Zephyrus glanced up visibly.

“Oh, you’re alright, don’t be shy.”

Tommy frowned at him. 

“No.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to make stupid bird noises,” Tommy snapped at him. “Nobody wants me to, so I won’t.”

“Why should you hide away parts of yourself just because a handful of people have told you not to? It’s not like you hide your wings.” 

Tommy rolled his eyes. 

“If I could, I would. On that note, why do you hide your wings?” 

Zephyrus chuckled softly.

“Because it’s easier to keep my identity hidden when half of it isn’t flapping about all over the place.” Zephyrus dragged his hand through Tommy’s feathers, and another warble slipped out before Tommy could stop it. Zephyrus cooed back, and a part of Tommy sparked in excitement. Reply reply another person not alone not alone -

Tommy gritted his teeth and pushed that part of him down, loathing swirling through him. This guy was a terrorist.

“You could show me your feathers,” he suggested instead, shove-shove-shoving more chirps down in his chest. “I-I won’t tell anyone.”

“I can’t do that, Tommy.” Zephyrus' voice seemed… almost sad. “It wouldn’t be in either of our best interests.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Tommy leaned into his own wing, wishing he could hide in it like he’d hidden in Phil’s wing the other day. 

“I’m almost done,” Zephyrus said, “and then I’ll let you go.” 

Tommy pretended he couldn’t hear the way the Syndicate member’s voice was almost sad. He didn’t need to feel sorry for someone like that.

“I don’t even know where we are,” he said. “How am I supposed to get home?” 

“I’ll take care of that.” Zephyrus paused, then went and picked up the stew that was still sitting on its box. “You, eat first. It’ll make both of us feel better.” 

Tommy grumbled, but took the bowl and began to eat. Despite being mostly cold, it really was good, so he finished in only a few minutes. 

“There you go,” Zephyrus said gently, moving to Tommy’s other wing. “I’ll get an invisibility potion or two so we won’t be seen. If the effects don’t wear off when you want them to, milk will do the trick.” 

Tommy nodded, blinking slowly. He was getting… weirdly tired. Had he always been this tired? Maybe he just hadn’t noticed before.

“You alright?” Zephyrus asked. He didn’t stop with his work, still rearranging Tommy’s feathers even as Tommy himself slumped, bones feeling all wobbly. He wanted to lay down. 

“Why’s everything…” Tommy trailed off into a sleepy purring sound, and he shook his head. “Everything's weird. Did- did you drug me?”

“No,” Zephyrus said, catching Tommy as he listed forward, head tucked into a neck and wings flopped loosely out. “You’re just unused to being taken care of.”

“I hope you’re not lying,” Tommy mumbled, fingers unconsciously curling into Zephyrus’s coat. “I was starting to not hate you as much.” 

“Oh Tommy,” Zephyrus practically cooed, gently scratching through Tommy’s hair and earning another sleepy sound. “You shouldn’t say things like that.” 

Tommy blinked slowly, slower, and finally shut his eyes. Exhaustion pulled at him. 

“Why not?” He mumbled. 

For a moment, all he could hear was a rumble-purring sound. 

“It’s nothing. Just rest, now. Everything will be alright.”

Chapter Text

When Tommy woke up, he was laying on something flat and hard, head pillowed on his arms and something scrunched into his fist. 

His eyes shot open and he jerked upright. There was something draped around him, fabric tangled in his legs and more gently laid across his wings.

Tommy looked around, hands clutched on the cement beneath him. He was outside the bakery, laying curled in the doorway. It was also dark, the only lights coming from street lamps set up every so often.

“Hello?” He croaked out, but the only reply was that of distant dogs barking and the sounds of traffic. “Is anyone there?”

No reply. 

Tommy stood up on shaky legs, clutching the fabric - a coat - around his shoulders and turning around to face the bakery. There was a light on in the upstairs apartment. Niki must've seen something, right? She must've seen how he got there. Because the last thing Tommy remembered was falling asleep on someone's shoulder. No… not someone. 

Zephyrus’ shoulder. 

The name felt a little like stepping into the snow after being inside for a long time. It was cold, and it made Tommy feel exposed. 

But he also had the feeling that there was something more important he had to do. Someone he had to tell.

Wait… Tubbo….. Tubbo!

Tommy scrambled through his pockets, finding his phone in the borrowed - or stolen - jacket, which was dark green. He didn’t even have time to feel cold at the realization it was Zephyrus’s coat.

Big Man: Tubbo you there man?

Bumblebitch: yeah

Bumblebitch: Why haven’t you answered any of my texts?

Tommy paused. 

Was he going to tell Tubbo what happened? 

That he’d talked with one of the members of the Syndicate? That he’d- that he’d let one of them touch his wings?

No. That would cause more problems.

Big Man: Ran out of battery and couldn’t find my charger. 

Big Man: Sorry.

Bumblebitch: Oh 

Bumblebitch: Okay. See you tomorrow for work, right?

Big Man: Yeah, definitely.

Bumblebitch: Why are you up this late?

Was it late? Tommy checked the time and winced.

Big Man: Why are YOU ?

Bumblebitch: Tooshay. Gn 

Big Man: I don’t even know what you’re trying to spell. Goodnight.

Tommy stuck his phone back in a pocket and stumbled to the back of the bakery, knocking on the door and hoping Niki would hear.

While he waited, he struggled to recall anything between now and when he’d been kidnapped. 

("Oh, little one, don’t kick-” red shoes red shoes- a rattling croon- ) no matter how hard he tried to remember, the recollection slipped from his mind like water.

Tommy unclenched his fist, revealing a crumpled piece of paper. There were words scribbled on the visible insides, but he couldn’t tell what they said. 

Do I want to read it?

He didn’t. 

But he also did. It might be important. 

There were footsteps inside the bakery,- nd a few seconds later Niki opened the door. Her eyes widened.

"Tommy?" She stepped forward, brushing her hands over Tommy’s face as if to make sure he was real. "Tommy, it's nearly midnight, what are you doing out here?" She looked down, seeing the jacket, and her eyes widened. “Where did you get that?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy said quietly. “It was on me when I woke up here.”

“Well, why don’t you come inside?” Niki ushered him in, locking the door once it had shut. “What happened? You’re shaking.”

Was he?

“I- I don’t know,” Tommy said, playing up the ‘confused and tired’ angle. Okay, it wasn’t much of a lie. “I was walking around, then I saw the Syndicate a-and they….”

Took care of me. I let one of them close. 

“When was this? How long were you there?” Niki turned his face to either side, trying to find any signs of injury or sedation.

“It didn’t feel like that long - half an hour, maybe a bit more.” Tommy pulled away, holding the jacket closer around him. “I fell asleep a couple of times, so it might’ve been…” hours. He absently stroked his thumb along the lining of the dark green coat. “I don’t know.”

“That’s alright.” Niki bit her lip, and gently pushed Tommy towards the stairs. “You better stay the night.”

“I- I don’t-”

“Work will start in seven hours, Tommy, we can’t try to get you home this late.” Niki looked out the door’s window. “You should probably text your mom.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, and followed Niki upstairs. 

She went looking through a linen closet, taking out a pillow and a couple of blankets to stack in her arms.

“You can camp out on the sofa,” she said breezily. “I need to do the dishes, but I’ll be going to bed soon, so don’t stay up too late.” She looked up, setting the blankets down on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tommy shook his head quickly, taking the blankets to rearrange.

"No? That's alright. Goodnight, Tommy."

"Night, Niki."

—————

Tubbo was watching Tommy from across the bakery. The avian was moving a lot slower than normal, glancing around every few seconds as if nervous.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Tubbo whispered to Ranboo, who was standing next to him and sectioning out dinner rolls. 

“I’m not sure.” Ranboo glanced for a moment. “Maybe he just slept badly. Those are some pretty dark circles.”

Tommy flinched when Wilbur walked past him.

“No,” Tubbo said, shaking his head. “This is different. Something happened to him yesterday.” 

“What could spook Tommy like that, though?” Ranboo asked. “He tried to attack Techno just a few days ago, right?”

“I know,” Tubbo said. “But this is… different. Something more.” 

“How do you know?” 

Tubbo nodded at Tommy’s back. 

“Look at his wings.”

Tommy’s feathers were practically glossy, ragged ends smoothed and all laying flat. That, Tubbo hadn’t seen in three years. 

“Um… yeah?” Ranboo didn’t seem to notice, which was fair enough.

“They never look that nice,” Tubbo explained. “Even if he knew how to preen his own wings, which he doesn’t, he’d never be able to reach the backs. Something happened, but whatever it was, it was… weird.”

“Oh.” Ranboo paused, a lump of what would become a dinner roll held loosely in one hand. “He’ll tell you if it’s important, right?”

Tubbo shrugged, because he didn’t actually know. Sure, Tommy wasn’t bringing it up, and usually he confided things in Tubbo. But how, he was actually avoiding things, like going out front or talking to really anyone.

Tubbo wasn’t even sure his friend had said a single thing all day. And that- that? That was the scariest thing about all this. Tommy was always loud. If there was one thing that terrified him more than anything else, it was silence.

And now Tommy was silent. 

Tommy himself must’ve noticed Tubbo watching him, because he glanced back. When he met Tubbo’s eyes, though, he immediately looked away. His wings pulled in tighter. 

“He’ll have to crack soon,” Tubbo muttered, mostly to himself. He forced himself to take a dough lump from Ranboo, rolling it into a ball and setting it in the pan. “He’s terrible at stewing.”

“What if he doesn’t crack?” Ranboo asked, wringing butter-covered fingers. “In a few days-”

“In a few days, if he still hasn’t talked?” Tubbo gave his hands a dark look. “I’ll make him.”

He felt Ranboo give him a look, but neither of them said anything.

As they worked, Tubbo continued to mull Tommy’s behavior over. What would scare him into silence like this?

There was only one thing. Affection.

And it would make sense, if Wilbur had been the one to pick Tommy up yesterday. An older avian would undoubtedly want to look out for a younger member of his kind.

But there was still something missing. Wilbur didn’t seem to be especially knowledgeable on what was wrong with Tommy, and that wouldn’t make sense if he’d been the one to preen Tommy’s wings.

In fact, Tommy seemed to be avoiding Wilbur specifically. When Tommy was given affection, he would cling. And he wasn’t clinging to anyone in the shop. 

Tubbo shook his head to bury the worries and the thoughts. He had work to do.

He was spacing out the dough balls when he heard Ranboo’s stomach growl.

“Dude,” he said, turning to look at his coworker with a small laugh. “What was that? Did you eat breakfast?”

Ranboo blinked, tilting his head. 

“Ye-e-e-es?”

“You forgot,” Tubbo deadpanned, and Ranboo looked away sheepishly. “I thought you had reminders all over.” 

“I was really busy,” Ranboo protested, then wrinkled his nose at Tubbo. “You’re fussing over everybody today.” 

Tubbo rolled his eyes.

“Ha ha,” he said. “Look, it’s either fuss over people or skip work.” 

“You never told me what you and Tommy were looking around for,” Ranboo said quietly.

“Oh,” Tubbo said. He paused, then tugged Ranboo’s head lower so he could whisper in one long ear, wings buzzing to cover the sound. “I’m trying to investigate the Syndicate. I think Wilbur’s their avian.” 

Ranboo whipped his head around, eyes wide.

“What? Why?”

“Long story.” Tubbo sighed and went to the fridge, rummaging through the crisper door. He found an apple, and came back to curl it into Ranboo’s hand. “And I don’t want to tell you right now. Just eat the damn fruit.” 

Ranboo muttered something, but took a bite of the apple. 

“You know investigating the Syndicate will undoubtedly get you in trouble, right?” He asked around the mouthful. 

“I’m being careful,” Tubbo said with a shrug. “I was investigating yesterday, and nothing bad happened.” 

“Because I was there,” Ranboo pointed out. “I stopped you from doing anything stupid.”

Tubbo playfully growled at him. 

“You happened to be there at the same time as me and we danced. Not the same thing.” 

“And if I hadn’t?” Ranboo handed him a dough ball. “What if you’d gotten involved in something dangerous?” 

“Then Tommy would’ve gotten help.” 

“And if he’d gotten caught too?”

“Then his mom or my dad would go to the cops. Ranboo, none of us are stupid. It’s not like the Syndicate will kidnap us just for existing.”

“Tubbo, you don’t know-”

“Shut up and eat the apple,” Tubbo said, turning away. “Yesterday, Ranboo, you were a distraction, not a help.”

Ranboo pulled in a quiet breath. 

“I-I thought you liked it.”

Tubbo bit his lip and turned away.

“I’ve known Tommy for thirteen years,” he whispered. “And I wasn’t there for him. I wasn’t there when he- when he needed me.” 

“Tubbo, you can’t-” Ranboo shook his head. “You have to promise not to go looking into the Syndicate, alright?” 

“Fine,” Tubbo said, then choked a little as the promise wove its way through his soul. He let out a breath, then scowled and shoved a fist into Ranboo’s chest. “Don’t ever fucking do that again. You understand?” 

“I was worried,” Ranboo said, pushing Tubbo’s fist away with more gentleness than he deserved. “I don’t want anything bad happening to you, or Tommy.” 

Tubbo wanted to growl at him, but instead he turned away and leaned heavily against the counter. He didn’t want others to be concerned for him. It was meant to be him and Tommy against the world. Just them, together forever. 

It was hard to figure out what to do where Ranboo was concerned.

“Maybe I don’t believe you,” Tubbo said bitterly. “You’ve known me for what, a month?”

“So?”

“So maybe I shouldn’t trust you, maybe- maybe I don’t know you well enough.”

There was a pause. 

“Then, um. Would you want to come over after work? And we could hang out?” 

Tubbo blinked, and looked over at Ranboo.

“What? Why?”

“Because, uh.” Ranboo huffed a little awkwardly. “Because I want to get to know you better, y’know? And why not hang out to do that?” 

“Well, I- I dunno.” Tubbo faltered, then looked over to where Charlie was in the corner of the room, spinning absently in his chair and playing a game on his phone. “Hey, Slime?”

Charlie stopped himself with a foot on the wall, head turning all the way around to look at Tubbo.

“Goopy as always, fellow bone-having friend. What’s up?” 

“Do you think my dad will mind if I go to Ranboo’s house after work?”

“Schlatt won’t be home until…” Charlie trailed off, making a thoughtful bopping noise. “Late. He wouldn’t notice if you were gone, but I’ll have to make sure.”  

Tubbo pulled his attention back to Ranboo.

“That’s basically a ‘yes’,” he said. “When my dad’s gone, he doesn’t get back until I’m already asleep. And unless someone rats me out, he’ll have no way of knowing where I am.” Tubbo raised one hand to push hair out of his eyes, then wrinkled his nose at the weird smell on his skin. “I’m going to wash my hands. Back in a few.” 

When Tubbo got back, Ranboo was pulling handfuls of hair into a ponytail, probably to avoid the same problem Tubbo had been dealing with. Ranboo glanced over, and his ears flicked up. 

“Tubbo! We’re supposed to go restock the front.”

“Alright.” Tubbo spared a glance for Tommy, who was perched on a stool and stirring something in a bowl as he stared off into some unseen middle distance. “I- I don’t want to leave him, though.” 

“Hey,” Ranboo said, “he’ll be okay for five minutes.” He tugged gently on Tubbo’s arm, pulling him towards the front. “C’mon.” 

Tubbo let himself be pulled along, grabbing the rack for restocking so it followed him to the front. 

“You’re awfully involved in my business today,” he told Ranboo, replacing an empty tray with one full of muffins. “Any reason, or is it because you’re bored?”

Ranboo huffed out a little amused sound.

“It’s because I don’t want you getting yourself sick or hurt again.”

“Oh?” Tubbo grinned. “I’m his favorite?” 

Ranboo scowled. 

“You have a very high opinion of yourself.”

“But I’m your favorite,” Tubbo cooed, leaning in and flaring his wings out. “I’m his fa-a-avorite.”

“You said I was distracting,” Ranboo retorted, poking one of Tubbo’s wings. “I guess neither of us win.” 

“Different case,” Tubbo chirped. 

“How?”

“I was doing important things,” Tubbo said, continuing through the room. “You weren’t.” 

“So you’re saying taking care of you isn’t important?” Ranboo tagged along as Tubbo walked. 

“Well,” Tubbo said, “maybe you thought that. Maybe it wasn’t a life-threatening situation to use me as a pillow.” 

Ranboo stammered, going red.

“I what? I don’t- I don’t- I don’t remember that.” 

“So sad,” Tubbo deadpanned, hopping up on the counter next to Tommy. “I’ll be using it against you, no doubt.” 

“Hm? What’re you using?” Tommy looked up from his bowl.

“He speaks, it’s a miracle!” Tubbo threw his hands in the air, pretending he hadn’t been viciously worried. He grinned at Tommy. “Ranboo here made a fool of himself when I was sick.”

“I didn’t-”

“Cool.” Tommy looked back down at his bowl.

Tubbo’s smile slipped away. 

“Tommy.”

“Mm?”

“Are you okay? You’ve been acting… weird.” 

Tommy paused. Then he looked down, and went back to stirring.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” 

“What kind of stuff? Do you, uh, wanna talk about it?” 

“I’m tired of people asking me if I want to talk,” Tommy said, voice cold and sharp. “I’m fine, okay? I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” 

“Fine,” Tubbo said, voice just as sharp. He hopped back down off the counter. “You want to sit here and brood, then fine. But don’t get mad at me for worrying about you.” 

“I am sick of people worrying about me.” Tommy stabbed his spoon into the bowl. “I don’t need it.” 

Tubbo reached out, and his fingers brushed against Tommy’s wings.

Tommy tensed, then pulled away.

“Leave me alone.”

Tubbo scowled. 

“Then have fun by yourself.” 

Tommy’s expression pulled info something sharp and he set his spoon down, walking stiffly over to Niki. He murmured something to her and she nodded, so because of that or in spite of it, Tommy went upstairs. Wilbur noticed, and began to follow, but Niki stopped him with a hand to the chest and a shake of her head. 

Tubbo almost felt bad for pushing Tommy away. But he didn’t. Instead he turned, nearly running into Ranboo before staggering, both hands flying up.

“Sorry,” he muttered, fingertips brushing over Ranboo’s apron before he stepped back. “Wilbur?”

“Yeah?”

“What else are we doing today?”

“Hm? Oh, uh. Right now, we should have a bit of a lull. You can hang out a bit, I’ll call you if we need you.” 

“Ah.” Tubbo sighed, then went to the breakroom. Once there, he sat down and put his head in his hands.

After a moment, there was a soft sound. 

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo sighed again, and looked up. 

“What, Ranboo?”

Ranboo was hovering in the doorway, wringing his hands. 

“I-I was thinking,” he said, “u-um, if you’re tired of being inside, there’s- there’s a park close by, a-and it’ll be nice around now.” 

Tubbo watched him for a moment. 

“You want… to go on a walk with me?”

Ranboo reddened a little.

“Maybe?”

Tubbo blinked at him, then stood. 

“That… actually sounds great about now.” 

They walked back to the main workroom of the bakery, Tubbo pausing before leaving the door. 

“Slime?”

Charlie looked up from his spinning chair and a plateful of broken cookies. The broken bits floated in his throat, faintly visible through the green slime. 

“Mmf- Yeah?”

“You stay here,” Tubbo said, still holding Ranboo’s hand so he wouldn’t leave just yet. “We’re going on a walk.”

Charlie’s eyebrows popped up, and his gaze flicked from Tubbo to the connected hands. 

“Oh,” he said. “Well, I’d hate to impose. Have fun on your… walk.”

Tubbo threw a whisk at him. 

“Let’s go,” he said to Ranboo, and they both left, pulling off their aprons before they did so. 

Outside, Ranboo took the lead, since Tubbo had no idea where they were going.

It was a beautiful day, early summer where the leaves were still green and the sun was barely hot. Tubbo began to relax a little as he walked, letting his wings flare out and his head tilt back to soak up the sun.  

“Good idea,” Tubbo murmured. “I would’ve gone crazy in there.” 

Ranboo looked back at him, and the barest smile crossed his face.

“I thought you were already a little crazy.”

Tubbo laughed a little and swatted his arm.

“Screw you! I’m a delight, if you must know.” 

Ranboo grinned at him, eyes crinkling up, and teleported away a few feet. 

“Oh, sure you are!” 

Tubbo gasped at him dramatically, and ran to catch up.

“You can’t just-” Ranboo teleported again and Tubbo practically screamed. “Hey!” 

“No harm done!” Ranboo called over his shoulder. “Use your wings if you really want to catch up!” 

“You bet your skinny ass I will!” Tubbo jumped off the ground, wings snapping open so he zipped over the ground and nearly tackled Ranboo, who teleported away just before. 

This continued several more times, and by the time they were surrounded by trees Ranboo was laughing hard enough it was easy work for Tubbo trip him. Ranboo grabbed Tubbo’s wrist as he fell, and the pair tumbled straight into a bush. 

Tubbo yelped, being prodded by sticks and whatever, and immediately tried to get up, but things were caught in his clothes and he kept getting pulled back down, barely propped up and wrapped around Ranboo like a fucking degenerate as he struggled.

“Ra-Ran, Ranboo, I can’t- I can’t- I’m stuck-”

“Tubbo, Tub- hey, hey, you’re alright-” Ranboo struggled out of the bush, spitting hair out of his face. He was trying to help, but Tubbo could barely think between the snowflakes and the sparks and bubbles all around, brushing and exploding against his skin in a flurry of everything- Tubbo made a strangled noise and shook his head, listing forwards as he tried to empty his thoughts but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t-

“Tubbo,” Ranboo said, and grabbed his face.

The startling cold shocked Tubbo back into calm, gasping softly. He opened his eyes again. Ranboo smiled a little at him. 

“Hey, hey. Better?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tubbo let out a breath, shaking his head. “Sorry, I-I-”

“You’re alright,” Ranboo said, letting go so he could snap a few twigs. “Sorry, I didn’t know this would happen.”

“I’m not used to, um.” Tubbo waved his hands absently, then remembered where he was currently sitting and scrambled back, trying to not go red as he untwisted his shirt. “Sorry. Nevermind.”

He sat and watched as Ranboo picked leaves out of his hair, delicately flicking them away.

“I didn’t predict any of this,” Ranboo said with a little laugh, then shrugged and tilted his head back. “But hey. We’re here.” 

Tubbo looked up. They were surrounded by trees, and it filtered the sunlight into a thousand speckling patterns of green and gold on grassy paths.

His eyes widened.

“Whoa,” he couldn’t help breathing, soaking in the sight. 

“You like it?” 

“It’s beautiful,” Tubbo said softly. “My house doesn’t have trees this big, or this…” he raised one hand up to the sky, watching the speckled light dance across his skin. “Free, I guess.”

“I hoped you’d like it.”

Tubbo blinked, and pulled his eyes back down so he could look at Ranboo. The enderian was stretched out on the grass, absently combing more leaves out of his tail.

“You-” Tubbo blinked again. “You did?” 

Ranboo didn’t look up.

“I-I, um- yeah. I figured- I figured, y’know… fae. Plants.” 

Tubbo snorted, both because that was silly and he couldn’t believe Ranboo would actually consider what he wanted. 

“Sure, Boo boy.” He turned to look out at the park again. It really was nice. 

“Do you, um- um.” Ranboo didn’t finish, so Tubbo tilted his head and inspected him.

“What?” 

Ranboo returned his gaze, and something about his expression…. Changed. Shifted slightly, as though between one moment and the next he’d learned something entirely new and he’d never be the same. 

Tubbo blinked at him. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing the way Ranboo was looking at him made some deep part of him tremble. God, it scared him. 

“Ranboo?” 

“Hm? What?”

“Why are you staring at me?”

Ranboo stammered, scratching at his arm, and looked away.

“N-no- no reason. Sorry.” 

Tubbo frowned vaguely, wrapping his arms around his knees. He didn’t really like that answer, but it wasn’t like he could get a better one. So he sat there, and looked out at the trees. 

“There’s so much here,” he said after a moment. “So much life. I can barely tell any of it apart, a-and at first it was…” overwhelming, he didn’t say. He dropped one hand to brush over the grass, feeling millions of warm bubbles popping against his palm. 

“Ah.” Ranboo idly picked at his hair. “So it- it all feels basically the same?” 

“You feel different from the grass,” Tubbo said. “But I haven’t really practiced besides that, so…” Tubbo looked around again, then saw a dandelion poking up from the grass a short bit away. “Huh. Maybe…”

He reached out, and brushed his fingertips over the flower. At first, it just felt like the other plants- bubbly and warm. But when Tommy thought harder, trying to focus, the bubbles felt… stickier. Clingy, almost, leaving a gross film across Tubbo’s skin even after he pulled away.

“That’s different.” Tubbo grimaced, rubbing his hand on his shirt as if to scrape away the unpleasant sensation. “Ugh.”

“It feels bad?” Ranboo sat up straighter, rolling a little so his legs stretched in front of him. His pant cuffs were too short. 

“Yeah.” Tubbo made an exaggerated disgusted face, rewarded by Ranboo’s small laugh. “Just ‘cause I’m fae doesn’t mean I like how everything feels. And I don’t like that.”

Ranboo nodded, but didn’t say much else, just tucked his feet up so he sat cross-legged. 

After a moment, Tubbo flopped down in the grass on his back, wings spread so he wouldn’t snap them by accident. 

“Do you like this place?” He asked, looking up at Ranboo. 

Ranboo looked back down at him, thoughtfully tilting his head.

“I do,” he said after a moment. “It’s nice. I’ve been here before, and usually it’s pretty empty- I can hang out, and sometimes the animals will come out and do their thing while I’m there.” 

“That makes you sound like a fairytale princess,” Tubbo said with a laugh.

“Hey, it means it’s safe. And quiet.” Ranboo paused, curled as if protecting something just below his ribs. His fingers drummed on his arms. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, like a confession. “It’s so loud in the Overworld. Sometimes it’s- it’s too much. The End, from what I remember, it- it was… quiet. Quieter than here.” 

Tubbo was surprised.

“I- I guess I didn’t know that some places were almost silent.” He paused, then said- “I know lots of people don’t really like silence, though. When me and Tommy were little, we were playing hide-and-seek in my dad’s house. Somehow he ended up getting stuck in a closet, and no one realized he was there for a long time. No one could hear him calling for us, since he was super out of the way. When we found him, he was… really upset. He wouldn’t stop screaming.” At the memory, Tubbo frowned. It made him uneasy. 

“I know lots of people don’t like silence,” Ranboo said quietly, fingers twisting blades of grass and snapping a few of the delicate stalks. “I just… prefer the quiet. Sometimes things are too loud.”

“I get that,” Tubbo said. “Maybe it’s just a Tommy thing. He’s an avian, and all, and some other stuff. And he’s my best friend, but- but sometimes I wish he’d be quiet so I could think.”

Ranboo propped his chin on one hand.

“Not today’s quiet, though.” 

Tubbo grimaced. 

“No way. Today he’s just scared. He can be quieter, it’s just…” Tubbo sighed. It felt wrong talking about Tommy behind his back like this, but the bottle had been uncorked and he couldn’t stop the bubbles fizzing up in his chest. “Being loud is how he copes with shit. I can’t fault him for that. He can’t stand silence, bothers people so they won’t get attached to him, uses being loud as a way of distracting people from how he really feels. The scary thing is that it works. All of it. And I just…”

“You don’t know what to do,” Ranboo offered. Tubbo nodded mutely, unwilling to say what was choking in his throat, in the sharp glass of the bottle.

I’m scared that if he stops pushing people away he’ll find someone else.

I’m scared he’ll leave me.

I don’t want him to leave me. 

Tubbo bit his lip, then rolled onto his side to face Ranboo. Grass poked up between long fingers, one of Ranboo’s hands pressed into the dirt a breath away from Tubbo’s face.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this,” Tubbo said quietly. “I don’t even know if you want to hear all this.” 

Ranboo shrugged.

“If you want to talk, I’m going to listen. Doesn’t matter what you’re talking about.” 

“God, Ranboo, who said you were a therapist?” Tubbo rolled his eyes in amusement, then sighed, raising his gaze. “Tommy’s an idiot sometimes.”

Ranboo tilted his head a little, eyes gleaming in the shifting light. It seemed to throw his eyes into something entirely new, like miniature nebulas condensed into red and green.

“Guess you two are made for each other.”

Tubbo looked down. Ranboo’s gaze made him feel weird, even when the moment wasn’t so tense.

“I guess.” Tubbo poked a finger into the ground, dirt coating his skin and sliding under his nail. “This is so stupid. We’re supposed to be taking a break, and I’m just yapping about Tommy.”

“Then maybe we need to find another distraction,” Ranboo said. He stood up and held out a hand. “C’mon, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Tubbo looked up again. Ranboo had on a small, almost shy smile, hand outstretched. 

Tubbo blinked in confusion, but took the hand. 

Ranboo led him down a path fainter than others visible in the trees, implying infrequent use. The enderian had to duck under branches that draped too low, picking his way over roots that Tubbo stumbled on. This part of the park seemed wilder, trees more tangled around them and underbrush scrubbier. 

Tubbo couldn’t help thinking a that this frame - Ranboo holding his hand, pulling him deeper into the trees - wouldn’t be out of place in some fantasy-romance movie where Main Character and Love Interest would run off and make out somewhere secluded.

Tubbo, recognizing that stupid thought for being an Incredibly Stupid Thought, pushed it from his mind, glad Ranboo hadn’t looked back. 

Eventually, the pair reached a clearing much farther from the main road. This area of the park was clearly not as maintained, and the only thing Tubbo could see that was obviously intentionally made was a pair of bowl sitting in the grass, one with water and the other empty.

Ranboo crouched down near the bowls and made a few clicking noises. After a few seconds, a slender black cat snuck out of the bushes, blinking green eyes.

“This is Enderchest,” Ranboo said, smiling and murmuring to the cat in Enderian as it pushed a wedge-shaped head against his hand.

“You’re just a big dork,” Tubbo deadpanned, holding very very still. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes.

“She’s friendly, alright?” Ranboo continued to pet her. “She gets spooked easily, but she must be an abandoned pet. Someone might’ve dumped her out of a car- I think I found her on the side of the road.”

A part of Tubbo twisted. 

“That’s awful.” He watched as Ranboo stroked down to Ender jest’s back, the base of her tail where she arched up to meet him. “Why do you leave her out here?”

“I can’t have pets in my apartment.” Ranboo sighed, and scratched the fur between the car’s ears. She purred, the sound rumbling in the air. “When I’ve saved up enough for a different apartment, I’ll bring her with me, but for now I bring her food and water and make sure she’s okay.” 

“She really likes you.” Tubbo crouched too, hesitantly holding out a hand. Enderchest sniffed him, wet nose brushing his knuckles, but went back to Ranboo and stepped onto his lap. “Rude.”

Ranboo snickered, shifting Enderchest’s position so her feet wouldn’t dig into his legs.

“I’m really the only person she knows.”

“Maybe you’re a supervillain!” Tubbo said excitedly. “You’ve got a spooky cat and everything!”

Ranboo gasped at him in mock offense, then scooped Enderchest up like a baby.

“Aw, you’re not spooky at all,” he cooed to her. “You’re the prettiest girl around. He’s just jealous.” 

“Am not!” Tubbo protested, and Ranboo leaned his face into Enderchest’s belly to hide laughter. “Anyone who gets jealous over a cat is stupid, and lame!”  

“My words exactly,” Ranboo said, nodding even as Enderchest put a paw on his face. “Brave of you to admit it.”

“I can’t lie, bitch!” Tubbo fumed, then flipped him off and folded his arms. “Jokes on you, I’ll find my own pet who loves me dearly and make you the jealous one.” 

“How dramatic,” Ranboo sighed with a grin. “C’mere, sit down.”

Tubbo did so, and suppressed the urge to flinch as Ranboo took his wrist, setting his hand on Enderchest’s head. The sparks of the cat felt like a warmer, softer version of Ranboo’s. More affectionate, almost, as if she knew she was loved.

“See?” Ranboo murmured softly, smoothing Tubbo’s hand down Enderchest’s head as the cat seemed to resign herself to the awkward attempt at affection. “Calm down, and everything will be fine.”

Tubbo looked up from under his hair, nose itching from loose cat fur. Ranboo’s eyes were down, on the pair of hands.

“Are you talking to me, or to her?” Tubbo asked.

Ranboo shrugged.

“Both, I guess.” His grip was gentle, but he didn’t let Tubbo pull away as he continued the stroking. “Relax. She won’t hurt you.”

Tubbo scoffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked down again. Ranboo’s hand still rested on his own. The fingers were longer than Tubbo’s, skin dark and slightly chilly. But it was there. 

“You’re all tense.” Ranboo’s fingertips spread over the back of Tubbo’s hand, and it felt like fire. A thumb brushed over the inside of his wrist. “And I can feel your pulse. Your heart’s racing.” 

“Maybe.” Tubbo hoped he wasn’t red. His other hand was curled into a fist, digging into the grass. “But it’s not because of the cat.” 

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him with intent. Tommy bumped against him all the time, slapped his back or punched at his shoulders. 

But this felt different.

“I’m not used to this,” Tubbo whispered.

Ranboo pulled away as though he’d been burned.

“Oh! I’m- I’m so- I’m sorry, I- I didn’t- I didn’t-”

“Don’t be sorry.” Tubbo let out a long, slow breath. “I-it’s… it’s actually kinda nice.”

Even now, the fire remained in his bones. The branded touch of fingertips on his skin burned like the sun. 

“Oh.” Ranboo slowly went back to scratching Enderchest’s ears, very carefully not looking up. He seemed… unsure. His shoulders were around his ears. 

Tubbo tilted his head, and made a decision.

“What, you embarrassed now?” He teased, hoping it would hide his own nervousness.

Ranboo blinked, and his ears went down.

“No-o-o…”

Tubbo raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t lie, Boo, I can tell you’re embarrassed.”

“Am not,” Ranboo mumbled, tail twitching nearly within swiping reach of Enderchest. “You’re the one who made it weird.”

“Relax, bossman.” Tubbo reached out, and gingerly scratched around Enderchest’s ears. “I’m just teasing you.” 

He could feel snowflakes. But he ignored them, focusing on the cat under his hand. She purred still, eyes closed. She was… actually growing on him. 

“She bites my hand sometimes,” Ranboo said idly, and Tubbo gave him a panicked look, pulling away. 

“And you made me pet her?” He froze again as Enderchest grabbed his hand in both paws.

“Hey, she’s normally a total sweetheart.” Ranboo spoke some more to Enderchest in his own crackly language, smiling at the delighted meow he received in response. “It’s you! You’re a sweetheart who’d never try eating anyone’s hand.”

“I guess now we know who you like better,” Tubbo sniffed. 

“I like the one of you who didn’t kick me in the stomach.” Ranboo held Enderchest closer, grinning at Tubbo through black fur. “Maybe that is picking favorites.”

“She’s a cat,” Tubbo protested. “I’m an intelligent species!”

Ranboo sniffed. 

“Excuse you. Cats are very intelligent.”

“Sentient, then.” 

Ranboo shook his head, still grinning a little.

“Are you sure you’re an intelligent species?”

Tubbo gasped at him.

“Y- ex- you- I would never try to eat your hand.” He turned his nose up disdainfully. “I am above that.” 

Enderchest meowed.

“I’ll have to agree with her,” Ranboo said. “You’d definitely bite my hand. You, Tommy, maybe Wilbur. You’d eat me given the chance.” 

“Gross.” Tubbo stuck out his tongue. “You’d taste gross.”

“Apparently we taste like chicken,” Ranboo said cheerfully. “Do you think chicken is gross?”

Tubbo fell on his back, wings spreading as he laughed.

“Bossman, that’s disgusting! Why did I need to know that?” 

“Because you brought up eating people!” Ranboo protested, but he was smiling.

“You’re the one who said I’d eat you,” Tubbo shot back.

“And you never denied it.” Ranboo pointed at him accusingly. “You just said I’d taste gross.”

Tubbo nodded.

“Exactly. I’d never eat something gross. Besides, you’re a friend other than Tommy.” He paused, then, and his face fell as he remembered everything he’d been worried about. “Tommy…” 

“Hey, no, nope, no worrying about Tommy.” Ranboo held Enderchest out, mock-frowning at Tubbo. “No more worrying, pet the cat.” 

Tubbo rolled his eyes, but moved around so he could lay parallel to Enderchest and rest his hand on her side.

“I can’t just stop worrying,” he said. He dragged his fingertips over the cat’s fur, short black strands brushing across his skin. 

“Maybe,” Ranboo said. “But hey, someone’s probably talked to Tommy by now. When we get back, I’d bet my weekly paycheck that he’ll be back to his usual loud, annoying self.” Enderchest squirmed and he let her go, Tubbo quickly pulling his hand back. Ranboo tilted his head slightly, regarding the person at his feet. “You don’t have to think about it right now.”

“Probably. Trouble is, I can’t stop thinking either.” Tubbo, with nothing else to do, ran one hand over the grass in front of him. “‘S too much going on.” 

Ranboo blinked at him.

“I-I thought we decided it was quiet out here?”

“No, not- not outside.” Tubbo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, tapping at his forehead. “In here.” He let out a breath. “When I’m worrying, about something, it’s almost impossible to stop. My mind runs and runs until I get too exhausted and pass out, but before then it’s just….” He fiddled with a weed poking out of the grass, but stopped when the prickly sensation became too much to bear. 

“It’s hard?” Ranboo scoffed a little. “Well, duh. To be honest, you kind of seem stressed all the time. Maybe if that was helped, the rest would get better.”

“Or maybe I’m like everyone else,” Tubbo said bitterly, “but I’m just shit at handling it.”

“I don’t think so. You’re actually really good at handling things. Stuff’s hard, that’s all.”

Tubbo looked up at the sky. It was hemmed in by trees in every direction, so blue it almost looked like it was on fire. 

“Who said you could be so smart?” He asked it softly. “When did you suddenly decide that I mattered?”

“Huh?”

Tubbo shut his eyes. 

“Nothing. I-it’s nothing. I just don’t know what to do.”

“If you’re stressed, then maybe- maybe something relaxing? Depends on what you find relaxing. There’s watching a movie, obviously, but a lot of movies make me nervous so maybe it would be hard to find a movie that doesn’t stress you out-”

“Ranboo?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” Tubbo smiled a little to himself, hearing Ranboo’s amused-yet-annoyed sigh. “I’m just going to lay here, alright?”

“Okay.” 

After a moment, Tubbo cracked one eye open. Ranboo had his head tipped back, leaning on his hands as he soaked in the sun.

Well, he looked comfortable. Maybe he was onto something.

Tubbo shifted how he lay, cheek pressed idk the grass and wings buzzing once or twice to shake off the cat hairs. The warmth of the sunlight melted over his head and back, and he let out a small, contented sigh.

“Tired?” Ranboo asked. His voice was more gravelly than normal. Maybe he was falling asleep. 

“‘S nice,” Tubbo mumbled. The ground was cool, and between the two the temperature was perfect. His thoughts had finally slowed down, the warmth making them syrupy and slowed. 

Something brushed the edge of his wing, and it twitched on instinct. Tubbo hummed softly.

“Mm. What’re you doing?”

“Sorry,” Ranboo said quickly. “It- it was an accident.” 

Fire flickered up the sides of Tubbo’s wings, and he flicked them back out again. 

“I don’t mind,” he whispered. He could feel Ranboo’s knee against one wing. Pressure, but not much else. “It doesn’t hurt.” 

“You sure?” Ranboo sounded so hesitant, pulling away just slightly so he wasn’t touching Tubbo. “I- I thought insect wings were less- less durable.” 

Tubbo giggled a little, both because he was punch-drunk on sunshine and because Ranboo had used the word durable, like a nerd. Tubbo would say ‘more breakable’. 

“Mhm,” he said, still slurred a little. “Kinda. But just touching ‘em won’t do anything. I’m not a butterfly.”

“I think…. I think insect wings are cool.” There was a brush of air, right across Tubbo’s wing. Electricity sparked up his spine, across his scalp. 

Tubbo didn’t open his eyes. He opened his wings instead, so they pressed against Ranboo’s knees. 

“You’re okay,” Tubbo whispered. “I don’t mind.” 

A small sound. Like a breath let out. Something gingerly rested against his wing, where the nerves were thicker. 

“It’s like glass,” Ranboo said. 

Tubbo blindly reached out, finding the end of Ranboo’s tail resting in the grass. 

“You’re kind of like a cat,” Tubbo remarked. 

A small snort.

“What gave you that idea?” The tail was odd, bony under the thick fur and twisting as if trying to pull out of Tubbo’s hand. Its owner’s voice was dry. “You know, there aren’t even any cats in the End.”

Tubbo hummed wordlessly, the electricity prickly over his spine again and around his ribs as Ranboo’s gentle fingers trailed closer to skin than chitin.

“How long do you think it’s been since we left?” Tubbo asked softly. 

“Not long.” Ranboo faltered, stilling. “Why- why? Is something- is something wrong?”

“Nah,” Tubbo said, shifting closer. He kept his eyes closed, and his hand on Ranboo. “Just curious. You….. you don’t have to stop.” 

“Oh.” Ranboo’s touch slid down the edge of Tubbo’s wing, and lingered near the joint.

Tubbo knew what made him linger. He himself could see it, when he looked over his shoulder in the mirror. A short, slitted scar, just under the joint where wing became skin. Always visible. Always hidden, locked at the back of Tubbo’s head. 

“What’s this?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please! Please!” Blood, staining towels, staining hands, staining hands. “I’ll never do it again.” Two stitches. No flying for two months, no lifting anything over fifteen pounds for three months. “What happened?” “You ever breathe a word of this to anyone, next time it’s your wrist, understand?”

Tubbo swallowed. 

“I-I-I-I- it happened a long time ago.” He squeezed his eyes shut tighter (I can’t breathe it still hurts I don’t want to think about it please please). “It- it- it doesn’t- it doesn’t matter anymore.” 

Please don’t ask anymore. Please don’t make me say more.

“Alright,” Ranboo said easily, as though Tubbo didn’t have scar tissue woven through his ribs. The enderian laughed softly, fingertips skating over the surface of Tubbo’s wing. “This is so weird- I keep thinking I’ll rip it right open.” 

“You won’t. Don’t worry.” Tubbo cracked his eyes open, watching Ranboo through the blades of grass in front of him. The enderian didn’t meet his gaze, eyes fixed on the sunlight gleaming off translucent membranes. “I’m not made of glass.” 

“You look like it,” Ranboo said softly, touch dipping over ridges in Tubbo’s wings. His fingertips were so light. “Especially out here.” 

“Just my wings,” Tubbo said, half-joking and fanning his wings slightly. The grass brushed across his cheeks and arms, tickling at his neck. “I’m tree roots everywhere else- stubborn and always in places they shouldn’t be.” 

“And stable. You keep Tommy grounded.” Ranboo glanced over, then realized Tubbo was looking back and stammered- “A-at, at least- at least that’s what- that’s what I’ve seen.” 

Tubbo grinned at him slowly. 

“You’re pandering.” 

Ranboo scoffed, holding one hand to his chest to clutch at imaginary pearls. 

“Uh, am not.” He leaned forward and lightly tapped Tubbo’s antennae with a finger. “Why? Do you want me to pander?”

Tubbo grinned wider, and tapped Ranboo back with his antennae. 

“Do you want me to want you to pander?” 

“I-” Ranboo shook his head. “That’s too many things. I’m confused now.” 

Tubbo laughed.

“Success! I distracted you!”

Ranboo pouted, lightly taking ahold of Tubbo’s wing.

“You’re so mean,” he said, tail curling as if to tuck around his feet.

“Says you,” Tubbo retorted, keeping Ranboo’s tail in his grasp. “You’re not slipping away again.” 

“Slipping away?” Ranboo huffed. “I was getting you food.” 

“How much of that day do you remember?” Tubbo asked. 

Ranboo shrugged, spreading a hand along the widest part of Tubbo’s wing.

“Bits and pieces,” he said. He was gently tracing the segments of the wing, one finger skating lightly over the clear membrane. “You falling asleep on the couch. The plants. Grapes. Getting kicked in the stomach. Not much else.” He fell silent then, other hand spreading out to thumb over the hooks on Tubbo’s lower wing. 

Tubbo could see the wonder in Ranboo’s eyes. It surprised him. No one had ever really looked at the pieces of him that were visibly other.

Not like this.

Not like it was something worth seeing.

Not even Tommy. 

“You’re quiet,” Ranboo said without looking over. His eyes still gleamed like twin nebulae. “Something bothering you?”

“Nah.” Tubbo fanned his wings lightly, watching how it threw off shadows and reflections on Ranboo’s face. “Just thinking.”

“That’s never gone wrong,” Ranboo joked, spreading his fingertips back over Tubbo’s wing. “Not thinking about murder, I hope.” 

“You’re lucky today,” Tubbo mumbled. “I’m not.” 

Ranboo’s white hair had turned a cream color in the sunlight. His hairtie had fallen out at some point, letting everything brush against his shoulders and beyond. 

Why was Tubbo staring? 

Ranboo glanced over, and their gazes locked. His eyes widened a little. 

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo blinked. 

“Yeah?”

Ranboo stammered, words not understandable before he looked away. 

“N-nothing, may-maybe we should head back.” He released Tubbo’s wing, hands quickly twining together in his lap. “I-I-I think Wilbur will be wanting us.” 

Tubbo buried the urge to frown, though he couldn’t help the fear that shivered through his stomach. Had he done something wrong? Did Ranboo hate him?

He folded his wings back in and stood, brushing grass off his jeans. 

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s go.” He held out one hand. Ranboo considered it for a moment, then accepted the hand. When he stood, he towered over Tubbo, tail flicking behind him.

Tubbo, not really sure what he was supposed to do, turned around without saying anything and began to walk down the path they’d used to enter this little clearing.

For a moment, he imagined there was a brush of fingers against his wings. Then he vanished that thought and kept walking. The trip back to the bakery was silent. 

Once he was inside the employee door, Tubbo grabbed his apron off its hook, going to wash his hands. He felt weird. He wasn’t sure what thoughts were running through his head, as all he kept getting were flashes of sunlight and fire across his wings. 

“Tubbo?”

Tubbo scanned the rack, checking for empty spots. 

“What?” He glanced over a shoulder. “Do you need something?”

Ranboo, who had a raised hand, shut his mouth and scratched at his arm. He turned away, probably to go get his apron. 

“Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“Alright then.” Tubbo continued scanning the shelves, trying to banish the echoes of hands on his wings. “Can you check to see what’s in the oven?”

“I’ll do that,” Wilbur said, having returned to the room. Tommy was shadowing him, strangely enough. “Glad you’re back. Where’d you go?”

“The park,” Ranboo said before Tubbo could answer. “We hung out a bit and came back.” 

“Where’s Charlie?” Tubbo asked. 

“Bathroom,” Wilbur said. “Or maybe he left entirely. Beats me.” 

Tommy had his hands fisted in Wilbur’s sleeve. Why? What had happened? 

“Where’s Niki?” Tubbo asked, trying to pretend he was worried about something else.

“Said she needed to talk with Phil,” Wilbur said. “She’s been upstairs on a call with him for fifteen minutes. And believe me, she was pissed. Muttered something about Phil not doing his job properly.”

Ranboo stiffened, but Tubbo was merely confused.

“Phil doesn’t work here, does he?”

“Nah.” Wilbur didn’t seem to notice Tommy as he checked the oven, but Tommy continued to keep a hand on him. “He’s got a desk job for some small business, maybe she went there and he’d messed up. Who knows?” Wilbur shrugged and picked up the clipboard, flipping through the pages. “Right. Someone get the oven when the timer goes off, I’ll go out front and take orders. I’ll call if I need any of you, alright?”

“Alright,” Ranboo said, peering over at the oven. “Ten minutes to go. Hey, what about those rolls me and Tubbo did earlier?”

“They’re out already,” Wilbur replied, setting the clipboard down. “Give them time to cool off first.” Then he carefully removed Tommy’s hands from his sweater and headed to the front.

If Tommy let out a small, broken chirp, no one mentioned it. 

“Hey… Tommy.” Ranboo awkwardly leaned against the counter, Tubbo hovering a safe distance away. 

“Ranboo,” Tommy replied flatly. He was washing a pair of bowls in the sink, elbows-deep in soapy water. 

Ranboo nervously glanced at Tubbo, who gave him a ‘go on’ gesture.” 

“Um,” Ranboo said, “what did you do while we were gone?” 

“Sat upstairs,” Tommy said. “Talked with Wil. You?” 

“I-I went to the park with Tubbo.” 

This wasn’t going anywhere. Tubbo hated it.

Ranboo glanced over at Tubbo again. Tubbo gestured frantically at Tommy.

“Did- um,” Ranboo began, “did something happen? Yesterday?”

Tommy stiffened slightly, feathers puffing up. A moment later, he turned away, drying his hands on a nearby towel. 

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep, if that’s what you mean. And honestly, Ranboo, if Tubbo put you up to this you can at least try to act concerned.” His voice was tart. “Even if you weren’t the one who ditched me.” 

“I didn’t ditch you,” Tubbo spat out, surging closer. He threw one arm and a glare at Ranboo. “That was all his fault.” 

“Hey.” Ranboo had the audacity to look offended. “You decided to dance with me. That’s not my fault!” 

“It is because you distracted me!” Tubbo said, voice climbing in volume. “I wouldn’t have left Tommy at all if you hadn’t been mucking around and decided you needed my opinion, or my dancing!” 

Tommy had been standing there, shrinking with every second as Tubbo got louder. 

“This is your fault?” He asked Ranboo, the words quiet and sharp. “You’re the reason I got-” He swallowed, and said nothing more, but Tubbo had already latched onto the unfinished phrase.

“You got what?”

“Nothing,” Tommy said. “Nevermind.”

“No, Tommy, I know you’re hiding something.” Tubbo stepped closer, but Tommy stepped back.

“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, and turned. “I’m going to see if Wil needs anything.” 

With that, he was gone, leaving Tubbo steaming and Ranboo guiltily picking at the skin on his wrist. 

“I thought you said Phil had him,” Tubbo said, voice low. 

“He did,” Ranboo replied quietly. “I can even show you my phone.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, whatever.” Tubbo rolled his eyes and turned away. “I guess I have to believe you.” 

“Tubbo, I-”

“Save it.” Tubbo glanced at the timer on the oven. Six minutes left.

Still ignoring Ranboo, Tubbo grabbed some potholders and slapped them down on a counter, trying to pretend he didn’t hear the frustrated enderian noises made by Ranboo.

Common sense, of course, said that Ranboo had no reason to lie.

But Tommy’s unfinished sentence rung in Tubbo’s ears still, drumming up catastrophic scenarios. 

Tommy had got what? Hurt? Stabbed? Shot? He didn’t seem wounded. Bullied? No, that was stupid.

Did he see something he shouldn’t have?

There was a final option Tubbo didn’t want to consider. But he had to.

Did Tommy get kidnapped?

If he did, how did he escape? Sure, if he’d been chattering nonstop he might have annoyed his captors into letting him go.

But Tubbo knew who they’d been tracking. He knew that the Syndicate wouldn’t get annoyed into letting someone go.

The second mystery was Tommy’s wings. They’d been preened, and properly. Did his kidnappers preen his wings? Why? Were they planning on selling his wings? Keeping him as some sick trophy?

Tubbo put his face in his hands, trying to swallow back the stinging in his nose and eyes. 

He knew he was overthinking. He knew. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t help himself because it could be true. So maybe he wasn’t really overthinking.

There was a light touch on Tubbo’s wings and he let out a soft breath, almost shuddering at the reminder of his own existence.

“What are you doing?” He asked of Ranboo, whose hand felt like snowflakes where it slipped to rest between his wings, directly on his back. 

“I know you’re worrying,” Ranboo said quietly. “You don’t need to.” 

“Of course I need to,” Tubbo snapped back. “Something horrible happened to Tommy and he won’t say what, but he’s acting completely unlike himself and he’s being weird. What else am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe he just wants space,” Ranboo suggested. “It doesn’t mean something bad happened.”

“Ranboo, Tommy never wants space. Something really bad happened, and I just- I can’t figure out what!” Tubbo pressed his elbows to the counter, curved above the top. “What if he got kidnapped? What if the Syndicate snatched him and are trying to make sure he never leaves them again?” Unseen to Tubbo, Ranboo stiffened again. Tubbo sighed, softly. “I don’t care how much Tommy tries to pretend he’s not, but he’s an avian. His feathers would go for tons on the black market. If the Syndicate were able to keep him in-” He practically gagged on the words- “in good condition, they’d make a fortune.” 

Ranboo said nothing. That didn’t stop Tubbo from continuing to ramble, the words spilling and overflowing from him like a baking soda volcano. 

“And why him? He’s already been through shit- his dad dying, his mom never being around, you name it. And now this happens.” Tubbo shook his head, fingers twining and pulling in his hair. “It should’ve been me. I’m the one who talked him into this, and- and I’m fae. Forget avian feathers, if the Syndicate got ahold of me they could make billions ransoming me from my dad or just plain auctioning me off.”

“Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Ranboo tried suggesting. 

“But I can’t help thinking someone’s got it in for him,” Tubbo insisted back. Then he sighed raggedly, pressing his palms harder into his eyes so inkblots of magenta and yellow flashed behind his eyelids. “I have to help him. But I can’t if he won’t talk to me.” 

“Be patient-”

“All I am is patient!” Tubbo slammed his hands down on the counter, relishing the sting. “I’m sick of waiting for people to pay attention to me! I’m sick of waiting for Tommy to pull his head out of his ass and actually let me help him! I’m about to snap, I’m-” Tubbo let out a huff through his nose. “He’s an idiot. He’s the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met.” 

“But you care about him,” Ranboo said softly. His voice was right behind Tubbo, close enough to ruffle hair. 

“And I’ll worry myself sick every time,” Tubbo finished thickly, hoping Ranboo wouldn’t notice the tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t- I can’t help it. He’s my best- he’s my only friend, a-and I don’t want to lose him.” 

When Ranboo spoke again, his voice was soft. 

“Are you okay?”

Tubbo shook his head slightly, because he didn’t want to answer and he didn’t trust his voice.

“Hey, hey. C’mere, it’s okay.” Ranboo moved closer, leaned up against the counter so he could face Tubbo and gingerly wipe away tears with the edge of his sleeve. “It won’t be that bad. It won’t be that bad.”

Tubbo let his head fall down. He didn’t believe it- the reassurances Ranboo was trying to give him. 

“I know you don’t believe me,” Ranboo said, because he knew Tubbo better than Tubbo himself did, apparently. “But I’ve got a hunch, and my hunches haven’t been wrong yet.” 

Tubbo chuckled wetly. 

“You’re so stupid.” But he leaned forward, head resting against Ranboo’s shoulder as he drank in the one person that would give him positive attention right now.

He smelled like oranges.

Chapter Text

Dream brushed some crumbs off of his paper, checking the notes. 

“Right, first things first. George, update on the sword?”

“Prints are nonexistent- between you and every idiot who’s touched the hilt and triggered the defenses, they’ve been totally destroyed.” George leaned back in his chair, looking around the cafe they were currently in. “Apparently, you got off lucky, because other people stay knocked out for half an hour at least.”

“Well, that’s news, if not very helpful. Sap, have you been checking the security footage for where the Syndicate guy came from?”

Sapnap hurriedly swallowed a mouthful of banana bread.

“Nah,” he said, “he entered a blind spot and vanished.” 

Dream sighed, clicking a pen against his forehead to help him concentrate. 

“Great. Checked any of the diner’s occupants for a match in builds?” 

“Uh….” Sapnap hesitated. “No.” 

“Then maybe get on that.”

Sapnap groaned but turned to his computer. 

After about thirty minutes of just sitting there and typing, Sapnap looked up.

“Hey, Dream?” he called. “I think I found a lead.”

Dream instantly perked up.

“Really? What kind?” 

“I was checking footage,” Sapnap explained, “and found a couple matches for Protesilaus’s build.”

“Uhuh. And?”

“One of the guys came from within walking distance of the diner.” 

Dream perked up. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Sapnap said, “and you won’t believe this, but they came from one of the places we logged as having suspicious activity.” 

If Dream had a tail, it would’ve been wagging.

“Really? What kind?”

Sapnap rolled his eyes with a grin.

“Wow, Dream, excited about crime much?”

“It’s so funny watching him,” George said over his cup of coffee, glasses steamed up. “Like a dog you’re about to take on a walk.” 

Dream shot both of them a death glare. 

“Just explain, please.”

“Fine. High potential for money laundering- the tax logs and audit forms say the place is bringing in almost four times as much money as the business we’ve actually seen. Unless they’re selling chorus fruit cupcakes or gold dust donuts, they shouldn’t be making that much.”  

Dream mulled this over for a moment. Money laundering, potential Syndicate involvement. Just up his alley.

“What kind of place is it?”

“Bakery-cafe. Two owners, five employees counting the owners. Four of them are hybrids.”

“Bakery…..” Dream thought for a second, then snapped his fingers. “The one we went to the other day?”

“Yeah, I think that’s it.” Sapnap frowned. “Kinda strange, how it’s got so few employees but manages to stay in business. You’d think that they’d either run out of savings and close down, or expand and hire more workers.”

“That is strange.” Dream twirled the pen between his fingers, watching the metal gleam as he thought. “Maybe we should pay a visit.” 

—————

Nemesis stared down at the avian sitting on the couch of her, arms crossed and fingers drumming. 

“You,” she said, “are an idiot.” 

Zephyrus twiddled his thumbs, but Protesilaus - who was behind her - choked on a laugh. 

“Don’t laugh,” Nemesis snapped, whirling to point an accusatory finger at him. “You needed to help! You did nothing!”

“What was I supposed to do?” Protesilaus asked, spreading his hands. “Get between a baby avian and that guy? I actually value my extremities, Nem.”

Zephyrus snickered, and Nemesis turned to shoot him a look. 

“Funny, isn’t it? Tommy barely talked all day, Zephyrus. That’s your doing.” 

Zephyrus paused.

“What? But I-”

“Preened his wings,” Nemesis said flatly. “Yeah. You may be getting attached, but he’s scared of you.” 

“At-attached?” Zephyrus drew himself up, making a small annoyed noise. “That’s ridiculous. None of us can afford attachments.” 

“I’m starting to think you’ve forgotten that.” Nemesis jabbed a finger at him. “You and Lethe both.”

“Hey now,” Zephyrus said, “leave Lethe out of this. He’s not even here.” 

“Not very honorable, Nem,” Protesilaus said. Nemesis could practically see the amused expression he was making. 

“Says the guy who dropped his sword,” she said. “At this rate, everyone’s cover is going to be blown.” 

There was a huff.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I was cornered,” Protesilaus said. “I’m lucky I even made it back.”

“You could’ve-” Nemesis sighed, then shook her head. “Nevermind. Not the point.”

“Then what is the point?” Zephyrus asked, delicately picking a dried leaf off his coat and flicking it away.

“You’re going soft,” Nemesis said. “Look, if you can’t keep your lives separate, then maybe we’ll have to eliminate the distractions.” 

Zephyrus’s head snapped up, and Protesilaus let out a soft growl.

“You wouldn’t,” Zephyrus said.

“I would. Get it together.” Nemesis dropped her voice into a hiss. “You know the plan. There’s no room for your pet.”

“I know the plan,” Zephyrus said, and stood. The glass eyes of his mask met Nemesis straight-on. “If anything, this makes me more willing to follow it.”

Nemesis crossed her arms, eyebrow raise not visible under her eagle-head mask.

“Are you sure?”

Zephyrus leaned in.

“Touch a hair on Tommy’s head,” he hissed, “and you’ll finally learn what it feels like to cross me.” 

“You’ll falter,” Nemesis said. “When the time comes, you’ll hesitate. You’re just lying to protect him.” 

“I. Will not. Hesitate.”

“Let’s wrap this up,” Protesilaus said dryly, picking up his cape and slinging it around him so red fabric fell below his shoulders. “Infighting is the enemy of progress.”

Nemesis took a single step back.

“You’re responsible for him if he fails,” she told Protesilaus. “Understand?”

Protesilaus paused, and looked over at Zephyrus. 

“You know the plan.”

“Of course.”

“And you won’t let anything get in the way?”

“Never.” 

“Good enough for me.” Protesilaus walked to the coffee table, slinging a box of potions into his arms. “Now let’s go. We’re wasting time just sitting around arguing.” 

Nemesis and Zephyrus both nodded, each going to their respective tasks.

The air was heavy. Two lives hung in the balance, fates determined by a trio whose faces were unknown to all but each other.

Whatever happened next would be life or death for Tommy and Tubbo.

—————

Tubbo was taken aback.

“Why can’t I hang out with Tommy?” He demanded.

“Because he’s a risk,” Schlatt replied without looking up from his computer. “You know what happened yesterday? He disappeared and no one knew where he was for almost twenty-four hours.”

“And? It’s not like this is the first time.”

“Bingo, there you go.” The clatter of computer keys. “Here’s the deal- you stay away from him for one week. Twenty-four seven.”

“Then I can see Tommy?” Tubbo asked, an air of desperation entering his words. 

“Then I’ll think about it.” 

“You’ll think about it? Tommy’s my only friend!”

“That’s not my problem. If you’re a bitch, then nobody’s going to want to be friends with you anyway.”

Tubbo snapped his mouth shut, ducking his head. He felt cold. 

“Look, bug. That kid’s reckless. He’ll get you in danger if you hang around him all the time like a fucking shadow. So you’ll stay here when you’re not at work so someone can look out for you.”

Tubbo gritted his teeth.

“No promises.”

“Wrong. Promise.”

“That’s cheating.”

“That’s business.” 

Tubbo folded his arms. 

“Fine,” he spat. “I won’t see Tommy outside of work and stay where someone can look out for me.” 

The promise knotted through him, binding him to his exact words.

But Tubbo knew. This had been going on for years, and if there was one thing he knew, it was exploiting loopholes.

And there was one hell of a loophole he could exploit.

“Sometimes it’s like raising a short, pissy lawyer,” Schlatt muttered to himself, shaking his head. “See you later.”

“You’re- you’re not dropping me off?”

“I’m busy. Ms. Innit will be here in a few.” 

“Oh. Okay. I’ll… I’ll go wait downstairs, then.” Tubbo walked over to the door. 

“Tell her hi.” 

Tubbo ran downstairs, throwing his stuff together and tumbling out the door right as Tommy’s car pulled up, Tommy himself waving enthusiastically.

“Hi! Big man!!!! We’re carpooling!”

When Tubbo was in the car, door safely shut, he bent to tie his shoelaces.

“Guess what shit my dad did?” He asked, antennae twitching as they brushed against the back of the seat.

“Did he ground you?” Tommy asked idly. He looked… better than he had yesterday. Wings worse, obviously, but the rest of him was less tense, more cheerful. “Sorry.”

“No.” Tubbo put his face in his hands. “He made me promise to stay away from you, outside of work. And- and I have to stay home when I’m not at work.” 

“That’s it?” Tommy scoffed, like a bitch. “I thought you were good at wriggling promises.”

“The biggest loophole I could get was staying with someone,” Tubbo mumbled. “And no, you don’t count.”

He stayed slumped there for a moment, fingers buried in his hair as he rested with his chest on his knees. He felt… weird. Droopy.

“So, you’re…. Stuck?”

“Yeah.” Tubbo huffed. “Can’t hang out with you, have to be looked after.”

“What if you were supervised?” Tommy’s mom asked. “I could take less shifts, and look after you boys.”

Tubbo paused, then shook his head with a bitten lip. 

“My dad trusts you, but I can’t be with Tommy at all. He’s scared I’m gonna get in trouble or something.” 

“Ugh.” Tommy frowned. “How long will this be happening?”

“I dunno.” Tubbo dropped his hands, wrapping them around his elbows. “I dunno.” 

“Great.” Tommy huffed. “My fingers will get sore from texting.” He paused, then. “Who would you be able to hang out with?” 

“Anyone who’ll ‘look after me’,” Tubbo said. “Basically anyone but you. Ranboo, or Phil, or Wilbur.” 

“But who’d want to hang out with two old bird fucks like those?” Tommy joked. 

“Tommy, you’re a bird fuck.”

“I’m not old.” 

“You’re both plotting, that’s what you are.” Tommy’s mom shook her head, dark orange ponytail swishing with the motion. “You shouldn’t be trying to figure out how to disobey your dad.” 

“Why?” Tubbo asked sharply.

“Because he loves you.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. 

“Well, it’s my nature. Kinda my whole thing is about exploiting loopholes. And I hate being roped into promises.”

“He’s doing it to protect you. And look, would you be doing this even if you hadn’t promised?” 

“Yeah,” Tubbo said with no hesitation. “It’s just more work if I’m hemmed in by the letter.” 

“A real wrong’un,” Tommy said, nodding. 

Tommy’s mom laughed softly. 

“Well, you can at least tell your dad who you’ll be with, not just disappear.” 

Tubbo sighed, sitting back up to lean against his seat. 

“Maybe I will. I’d just have to figure out how to phrase it, ‘cause otherwise he’d flip his shit.”

Tubbo knew how bad Schlatt got when that happened. Shit flipped?

“I won’t do it again, I won’t- I promise, I promise, I- stop crying. Stop crying dammit!”

Tubbo’s back itched. 

“Maybe you could say you were hanging out with a very, very responsible friend,” Tommy suggested, having not noticed Tubbo’s stiffened form. 

Tubbo was looking out the window, watching storefronts pass. They were nearing the bakery.

Tommy snapped his fingers.

“I know. Ranboo. He counts, right? Dude’s neurotic, but he’s running his own life without supervision.”  

Something bubbled in Tubbo’s stomach.

Then he wondered why. 

The car slowed as the bakery grew in the window. 

“Here we are,” Tommy’s mom said. “Have fun at work. I’ll pick you both up, unless Tubbo finds someone else to take him home.” 

“Bye!” Tommy said, pressing his cheek to hers before climbing out of the car.”

“Bye,” Tubbo said quietly. “Thank you.” He climbed out too.

In the bakery, Wilbur and Niki were nowhere to be seen. Ranboo was there, and so was Techno, surprisingly, the pair having a heated conversation near the ovens.

Techno looked angry. His teeth and tusks were exposed, low growls punctuating his words and rippling through the air. 

Ranboo was looking down at the floor. His ears were droopy, shoulders slumped. 

“Hey!” Tommy said, waving and nearly hitting Tubbo in the face. “Where’s Wilbur?”

Ranboo flinched, head whipping around, and Techno looked over as well. He settled his teeth away, expression neutral again. 

“Wil’s running errands,” the piglin said. “Today’s checklist is on his desk.” Techno glanced at Ranboo again, then shook his head and turned away. His hooves tapped against the floor, which creaked under his bulk as he moved. “I’ll take the register.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Tommy chirped with a shit-eating grin. “Everyone knows you and people don’t agree well. Like a bagel in a celiac’s intestines.” 

Techno raised his eyes to the heavens, then murmured something and kept walking. 

“Just do your jobs.” 

Tubbo dropped his bag in the break room, pulling his apron over his head and tying it as he walked straight for Ranboo, lowering his voice when he talked.

“Tommy’s better today. I think he’s not thinking about what happened.” 

“Good,” Ranboo said. “I don’t like seeing you worry.” Tubbo glanced over at him and he stuttered, amending hastily- “I-I-I mean, you seemed- you seemed really worried, and you weren’t- you weren’t happy at all yesterday.” 

“Okay. Uh….” Tubbo yanked his finger out of where he’d accidentally tied it. “Do you think, um. Would you want to hang out? After work? I-I’m not allowed to be with Tommy, and I don’t… I don’t want to just be stuck inside.” He trailed off vaguely, rocking his weight on and off his heels. Waiting for Ranboo to say something made him nervous. 

He looked up. Ranboo’s expression flickered, eyes darting over to where Techno had been standing earlier.

He looked terrified.

“I, uh-uhm.” The moment passed, but Ranboo kept nervously scratching at his arm. “I don’t know…”

“If today’s a bad day, just say so.” Tubbo frowned, seeing Ranboo’s claws dig into his skin. “I can just head home right after work.”

Ranboo kept scratching and Tubbo stepped closer, tilting his head to get a better angle and reaching out.

“I-it’s not a bad day,” Ranboo said quickly. “I-it’s just that something came up, a-and, and- um….”

Tubbo had grabbed his wrist, inspecting the raw skin. Under the regular discoloration of the scratching, dark red points dotted the surface of Ranboo’s arm. Definitely not normal.

“Those are broken blood vessels,” Tubbo said, a little surprised. “How did this even happen?”

Ranboo pulled away. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, and his voice was tight. “Don’t worry about it.”

Tubbo put his hands on his hips. 

“It’s not nothing. Bossman, you know things work both ways, right? If you want me to talk about my problems, you can at least talk to me about yours.”

Ranboo’s mouth tightened.

“What will you do if I say I can’t?”

Tubbo frowned, and leaned in.

“Exactly what I did yesterday. Worry. But this time it’ll be about you.” 

“Stop kissing!” Tommy said, throwing up a spray of water that Tubbo intercepted so it wouldn’t get on Ranboo.

“We’re not kissing!” He shouted back, and grabbed Ranboo’s arm. “Go do something productive!” 

“A-are you still talking to Tommy?” Ranboo asked a little awkwardly. “Because I can’t do- I can’t do something productive if you’re holding onto my arm.”

“Yeah I’m talking to Tommy,” Tubbo snapped, frowning harder at Ranboo’s arm. What kind of thing would break blood vessels under the skin?

Oh. Ranboo’s scratching. Tubbo’s prodding him.

Tubbo quickly let go of Ranboo’s arm. 

“Oh. I-I’m sorry, bossman, I didn’t mean to- to freak you out.”

“You didn’t,” Ranboo said, voice even. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I-”

“We should get to work.” Ranboo stepped away and turned. Tubbo watched him go for a moment, hand still half-raised and mind spinning.

Why couldn’t he ever say the right thing? What had he said that made Ranboo this upset? Because he was annoyed, right, and Tubbo was annoying him but too stupid to figure it out because Ranboo didn’t want to hurt his feelings even though Tubbo was hurting him- 

Tubbo ducked away. He tried not to sneeze as he worked, loose flour stirred up around him while he took out a bowl and measuring cups. 

He glanced over at Ranboo.

Ranboo wasn’t looking over. His tail twitched under the neat bow of his apron, not doing much other than keeping the flour in the air. Other than that, he barely moved- all wound up like a metronome key and going back and forth between the recipes and the pages on the clipboard, stiffly flipping through papers. 

When Tubbo listened harder, he could hear frustrated, crackling mutters. 

“Can’t- ugh, where was it- ☊⏃⋏'⏁ ⍀⟒⋔⟒⋔⏚⟒⍀ where is it I can’t- I can’t- why can’t I-” He let out a sharp sound and slammed his hands on the desk, making it wobble slightly.

“Are you okay?” Tubbo asked softly, and Ranboo stiffened.

“I’m fine,” he said, the words soft as he went back to shuffling through the papers.

“You’re not,” Tubbo said, approaching, “and don’t fucking tell me that again because I wasn’t asking to be lied to.” 

“Then what are you asking?” Ranboo said, voice going from soft to sharp. “For me to spill some sob story so you’ll feel better about constantly poking in my business?”

“What?” Tubbo was taken aback. “Now you’re acting like Tommy!” 

“Maybe he has a point,” Ranboo snapped, and Tubbo flinched. “I don’t want you constantly bugging me, okay?” 

“Then don’t say you’re fine!” Tubbo snapped back. “Say you don’t want to talk, whatever! But don’t lie to my face.”

Ranboo scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning away.

“You’d just ask more questions if I did that.”

“How do you know?” Tubbo demanded.

“Because you’re doing it right now!” 

Tubbo bit his lip.

“Leave me alone,” Ranboo said, voice quieter again. “Just go back to work, Tubbo.” 

“I’m worried because-” Tubbo swallowed the rest of that sentence back. “What, am I not allowed to worry about you anymore?”

“I told you. Leave me alone.” Ranboo’s knuckles were locked around the edge of the desk. There was an odd sound in the background, like batter frying. 

“I’ll stop if you want,” Tubbo began, but Ranboo whirled around before he could finish.

“I already told you to drop it! ”

Ranboo was crying. That faint sizzling noise was his tears, burning silently down his cheeks and leaving behind discolored trails.

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo whispered, curling in on himself. He took a step back. “I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Ranboo didn’t look away. “Now leave me alone.”

“I-” Tubbo wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Ranboo’s eyes were clouded with something, an emotion too raw to figure out what, exactly, he was feeling.

Tubbo swallowed, and felt ice slip down his throat.

“Fine,” he said. “If today’s your turn to be a bitch for no reason, then don’t let me stop you. I’ll leave you alone.”

Ranboo straightened, ears going back even as his fingers curled around his arm again.

“Good,” he said again. His voice was stiff, betraying none of the emotions swirling around in his eyes.

“Hey. Nerds.”

Tubbo blinked and looked over. Techno was leaning against the doorway, looking entirely unconcerned. 

“I have to go,” he said. “Ranboo, can you take the front?”

“Sure.” Ranboo brushed past Tubbo without looking, eyes set determinedly on something else.

Tubbo turned to go help Tommy.

The avian was battling a Tupperware lid at the moment, struggling to put all four corners on without at least one popping back up. As Tubbo approached, he glanced up, then blinked in surprise.

“Tubbo, hey. Uh… is something wrong?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tubbo said. He could taste saltwater in his mouth. “I’m fine.” 

—————

Wilbur nervously inspected the text message he’d received, reading it over and over again as though making sure the words hadn’t rearranged while he wasn’t looking.

Phil: oh, that sucks m8. Feel free to use mine if you want, I’ll be out all day so you won’t be a bother

Phil: I’ll leave the spare key on top of the door  

Wilbur let out a breath.

“Right,” he said. “I’m allowed to do this. There’s nothing wrong with using a family member’s washing machine because yours is broken. Nothing wrong.” 

Then he shook away the last doubts and walked inside, ignoring people’s weird looks at some random guy carting around a laundry basket full of dirty clothes. Still, Wilbur was glad that the elevator was empty as he went up, up, up. Because Phil’s apartment was halfway to fucking space, and Wilbur really didn’t enjoy the idea of being stared at for that much time. 

When Wilbur got out of the elevator, he wandered the halls before finding Phil’s apartment and fumbling around for the spare key, which was hard because there was a basket balanced on one hip.

When he shoved the key in and turned the edge, he paused as it didn’t move. Why didn’t it move?

Wilbur pulled the key out, then slowly tried the knob.

It turned instantly. Already unlocked? But why? Phil had said he was gone, and Techno was supposed to be helping out at the bakery. 

Wilbur frowned, but walked in and shut the door behind him. It was dark. The curtains were shut, and boxes were scattered on the floor and furniture, making Wilbur stumble and nearly eat shit several times as he walked. 

Is no one home? He wondered, looking around. The lights were off. So then why was the door unlocked?

He could hear voices.

Wilbur froze, hand resting lightly on the washing machine. Voices? He turned, setting his laundry basket down, and stepped out to the hallway again.

The voices were coming from a door at the end of the hall. Neither familiar. 

Wilbur frowned deeper, and slowly reached forward to open the door.

Inside was a pair of strangers, visible among stacks of boxes. Wilbur held his breath, eyes flicking over the strangers. One was a burly figure in a red cloak, the other a man with black hair and his arms tied behind his back. He was scowling, slumped on a chair. He looked fairly-well off, in a slightly disheveled dress shirt and broken suspenders.

“Like I told you,” he spat, “I’m not telling you shit.”

The figure growled, stepping closer and wrenching the man’s head up with a hand. The light shone on a long, wicked scar streaking down his face. 

“Do you want the other side to match? Answer my questions and I let you go.”

“I told you,” the man grunted out between gritted teeth. “I don’t know. And, porkbelly, I’m the right hand of the house. You can’t touch me.”

“You’re a lapdog.”

The man snarled, dark eyes flashing.

“I could run the whole fucking place behind his back. And I do, in front of him, while he’s busy managing his precious little lambkins.” 

There was a gleam of steel. Wilbur covered his mouth with a hand upon seeing something sharp pressed to the man’s throat.

“Then I think you do know. You’re testing my patience, joker, and that’s not something I have in abundance.” 

The man let out a soft noise, grimacing and swallowing visibly.

“I guess not.” 

There was a rough shake.

“Schlatt’s kid. Is he involved?”

Schlatt’s-

Tubbo? What did Tubbo have to do with this?

“No,” the man choked out. “No, he doesn’t know shit. And he’s being watched, too, carefully. You won’t be able to pull the same fuckery you did with that avian.” 

The sharp thing- a crossbow bolt, what the fuck- pressed tighter and the man grimaced again, gasping a little as blood welled up.

“What?"

“Avian,” The man said breathlessly, “there’s feathers on the floor and they’re too small for your buddy. Lots of down- a nestling.”

“What did we pull? ”

“I have sources that saw a Syndicate member smuggling an avian kid across the city.” The man squeezed his eyes shut as the bolt twitched against his jugular. “Nnng- shitty plumage, you didn’t keep them, so why are you so pissy?”

The red figure growled, the sound low and gravelly. 

And Wilbur would be damned if it wasn’t a little familiar. He stepped back, then froze as a board creaked underfoot.

A head whipped around, and a skull mask was facing Wilbur through the cracked door. 

A pig skull mask, with red eyes. And pink hair in a series of intricate braids. 

“Have a guest?” The man asked.

And Wilbur bit back a nervous sound. 

He’d walked in on a Syndicate interrogation. With Protesilaus.

A few steps, and Protesilaus walked through the door to shut it behind him. He loomed over Wilbur. 

“What are you doing here?” Protesilaus growled at him, the eyes of his mask glinting in the light. 

“I should be asking you that,” Wilbur replied, hoping he didn’t sound absolutely terrified as he stumbled down the hallway, Protesilaus following. “This is my dad’s house! How did you even get in here?” 

A hum.

“Spare key.”

“But you’d- how’d you find it?” Call the cops, his mind kept screaming, but Wilbur’s hands had gone numb and he couldn’t get out his phone. Stress, it was stress, he was terrified. 

“I can answer that later,” Protesilaus said. “Let me deal with our friend in there-” A thump, as though the man was trying to get free. “-then we’ll talk.”

Wilbur’s voice squawked up in both volume and octave.

“Why should I-” 

Protesilaus clapped a hand over Wilbur’s mouth, muffling the rest. Wilbur’s breath whistled panickedly in his throat. 

“Why should you trust me?” The Syndicate member leaned his head in, holding Wilbur’s gaze. “Because, Wilbur Soot, there’s a few things about your family you never knew about.”

Wilbur twitched a little, and Protesilaus let out a low growl.

Though this was less growl, and more… purr.

The sound went straight to Wilbur’s chest, humming in his bones. He knew what it was. He knew who made a sound exactly like that.

Protesilaus pulled away, dropping his hand from Wilbur’s face.

“Are you going to keep being loud?”

Wilbur shook his head. 

“Good.” 

He watched as the Syndicate member stepped to the side, turning back to the room.

“Techno?” Wilbur whispered. 

Protesilaus paused mid-step. There was a long, tense breath, and for a moment Wilbur was sure he’d made a terrible mistake. 

Then Protesilaus looked back at Wilbur. He sighed, and the silence was broken. 

“Surprise.”

His expression wasn’t visible behind the mask. But Wilbur had a feeling he wasn’t exactly happy. 

“Just wait,” Protesilaus-Techno said, raising a hand as Wilbur opened his mouth. “I have to deal with that guy. Do your laundry and whatever until I’m done.” 

—————

Tommy spared an occasional glance at Tubbo from across the table. Was this how his friend had felt yesterday?

Tubbo never looked up, wings drawn tightly to his back. 

Tommy cleared his throat.

“You wanna-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to ask!” Tommy protested. 

“You were going to ask if I wanted to talk,” Tubbo said flatly. “The answer is no.” 

Tommy scoffed a little.

“Nooo, I was going to ask if you wanna pass me the baking sheet behind you.”

Tubbo heaved out a sigh, then rolled his eyes and turned to grab the sheet before going back to his mixing. His shoulders were curled in, showing that he was still upset. 

“Sulking is stupid,” Tommy said, spooning cookie dough onto the sheet. 

“Then I guess you’re an idiot,” Tubbo said with a snort. “And I’m not sulking.”

“I wasn’t sulking either!” Tommy paused, then sighed. He couldn’t tell Tubbo what had happened. That he’d been trying to process.

Zephyrus’s note was still in his pocket. Taunting him. 

“Ranboo seemed pretty upset,” Tommy said instead of anything else. 

“And that’s none of my business,” Tubbo snapped. “It’s none of my business, so I’m not talking about it.”

“Right. Right.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “Look, you can at least admit something’s wrong.”

“Like you did?”

Tommy tensed for a moment. 

“I said something was wrong,” he muttered finally. “Just not what.”

And he still didn’t especially want to.

“And I got told not to worry about it,” Tubbo said. “Unlike you, I wasn’t going to push to get the answer I want. I’m not…” he paused, and pulled in an oddly shaky breath. “I’m not going to talk, mention, or think about it anymore.” 

“Fine,” Tommy said. “Be like that.” 

After a moment, in which Tubbo crumbled even further for some reason, Tommy wanted to say something else to change the mood. 

But then Ranboo appeared, wringing his hands nervously. 

“I-I-I have to go. Uhm- um, Tommy, you met those detectives the other day, right? They’re ordering, so- so you better handle that.”

Tommy wrinkled his nose. That was… weird. A glance at Tubbo showed they were both on a similar wavelength.

But Tommy went out anyway. First thing he saw was the trio of men near the front counter. Dream in the front, Headband shaking the tip jar, and George looking bored as he inspected the display case.

“Can I help you big men?” Tommy said, making his voice cheerful.

Headband- Sapnap, wasn’t it? That was written on his sleeve, at least- looked up, and hurriedly pulled out a stack of papers. 

“Actually, yeah. You’re an employee here, correct?”

Tommy blinked.

“….yeah…” he glanced over at Tubbo, who was lurking in the doorway. A shrug. “I wouldn’t be taking your order otherwise. And I served you last time, so…. Are you going to order?”

“Him.” Sapnap pointed at Tubbo. “He works here too?”

“You ignored my question,” Tommy said. “Look, man, I would really appreciate if you would explain what the hell’s going on before I answer any more questions.”

Dream finally looked up. 

“We’re here on official police business,” he said, and Tommy felt something shudder in his stomach. 

“What kind?” He asked. 

Sapnap flipped his papers around, tapping a specific spot. 

“Recognize this guy?” 

Tommy looked and faltered. Boar skull mask. Red eyes.

“Try screaming, it goes back on.” 

“That’s- that’s Protesilaus. He works for the Syndicate.”

“That’s right.” Another flip. “How about this one?” 

This time Tommy went pale. 

Hands on his wings in his hair-

“Zephyrus,” he whispered. “That’s Zephyrus.”

“Right again.” 

Tommy wanted to wrap himself up, but settled for clenching and unclenching his fists under the counter. The note burned in his pocket.

“What does the Syndicate have to do with me?” He asked.

“You’ll love this,” George said. Sapnap shot him a dirty look. 

“George. Anyway, kid, we have reason to suspect that this business is being used as a front.”

Tommy blinked. 

“A front? For what?” 

Then it clicked, and he pulled in a breath.

“The Syndicate?"

He really hoped that the Syndicate wasn’t secretly running the bakery. He couldn’t handle another encounter with them. 

“Yeah,” Sapnap said, “so you can understand why we’re here.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “Do you know all the employees here?”

“Y-yeah,” Tommy said. George took out a notebook and a pen.

“If you could tell us names, species, that kind of thing, that would be great.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “W-well, um, there’s me and Tubbo, obviously. And there’s Wilbur and Niki, they’re the owners. Wilbur’s an avian, like me, but Niki’s human.” George nodded, scribbling on the notebook to presumably take notes. “And there’s Ranboo.”

“Enderian?”

“Yeah.” 

“How old?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“I dunno, around my age?” 

“Hm.” George scanned the notebook, then glanced over at something Sapnap showed him. “Hm. So, Tommy, tell me more about Wilbur?”

Shit. 

“Like- like what?”

“Do you know where he was the day the riot broke out?”

Shit.  

“I-I- no, I don’t. He was here, but then he left.” Tommy shook his head. “He doesn’t tell me anything, he doesn’t-”

Dream nodded over Tommy’s shoulder. 

“What about him?”

Tommy looked back. Tubbo was pale and shaky-looking, still huddled in the doorway.

“Tubs?” Tommy asked softly.

Tubbo shook his head. 

“Look,” Sapnap said, “unless the both of you start giving us useful answers, we’re taking you into custody for questioning.”

“I can’t give you answers,” Tommy said. “I don’t even know what you’re looking for!”

“Suspicious activity,” Dream said. “And you, buddy, fit the bill. Sap, cuffs please.”

—————

Wilbur felt a little like he’d been handed a bare, bloody lump of meat. He sat on the couch, reluctant to talk or look or think about it.

But he had to.

“So you…” Wilbur cleared his throat when his voice cracked. “You work for the Syndicate?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Phil know?” Wilbur’s voice cracked again. 

My brother. My brother is a criminal. My brother is one of the most wanted and powerful criminals in the city.

“Does Phil know you do this?”

Techno didn’t reply at first, sitting next to him on the couch and fiddling with the fraying edge of his cloak. He was still wearing the mask, and it made him feel more… distant. Wilbur wasn’t sure whether or not to be glad.

“He does,” Techno said finally. 

“A-and he’s okay with it?”

A huff. 

“Yeah.” Techno shuffled his hooves, indicating he was uncomfortable. That was a little reassuring. “He knows. This is his apartment, after all.” 

“Okay. And…. The feathers. That avian- that kid, was it-” Wilbur couldn’t finish, instead swallowing dryly. He didn’t exactly want to consider the possibility.

But Techno nodded, the action slow. 

“Tommy.” 

“Why?” Wilbur asked, not even sure if he wanted the answer. 

“He found us,” Techno said. “Somehow, he was hanging around during a deal. I just wanted to warn him off, but Zephyrus, he, uh. He wanted to make sure Tommy wouldn’t immediately sell us out.”

“Zephyrus,” Wilbur said. “He- he brought Tommy here. What did he do? Tommy looked dead yesterday at work, what could-”

Tommy’s preened wings. The feathers. Phil’s attachment to Tommy. 

Wilbur pulled in a breath. 

“Phil’s part of it too.”

Techno didn’t say anything, kicking at the ground. 

“Phil’s- Phil’s Zephyrus? Why…”

Why what? Why hadn’t they told him? Why had they done that to Tommy? Why did they do anything they did?

Wilbur could only ask one question at a time, so he settled for the most obvious question.

“Why did you tell me?” 

Techno sighed, raising his head a little. 

“You kind of walked in on me.” 

“You could’ve just locked me up,” Wilbur pointed out. “Made me disappear, then went back to playing outlaw. Why did you bring me into this?”

“Because I didn’t want to lie to you.” Techno shook his head a little. “After everything that’s happened with us, it didn’t seem fair.” 

“Well, I kind of wish you’d never told me.” Wilbur folded his arms, annoyed both because of everything and also because Techno had brought up their family’s history.

“Now was the wrong time,” Techno said. “I just- I panicked.”

“You? Panicked?”

“When my estranged brother shows up at my dad’s house while I’m in the middle of interrogating someone, yeah, I panic.”

There was a pop-whoop sound, and violet particles exploded through the air. Wilbur whipped his head around and shrank back against the couch as he saw another Syndicate member appear, almost toppling onto the coffee table. 

Techno caught them before they fell completely, and in the tangle of limbs and white fabric Wilbur recognized the white scarf and red mask of Lethe.

“What are you doing here?” Techno asked sharply. Lethe looked between him and Wilbur, hurriedly pushing himself upright.

“What’s he doing here?”

“He knows who I am, get to the point.”

“Wh- okay, okay, sure, fine.” Lethe shook his head, and kept talking before Wilbur could bother wondering why their voice sounded so familiar. “They’re got to the bakery, I couldn’t- I couldn’t do anything, now Tommy and Tubbo are gone.” 

Wilbur shot to his feet.

“What? Who’s at the bakery?”

“The detectives,” Lethe said quietly.

—————

“Mr. Innit-” Dream pointed to Tommy, then to Tubbo. “And Mr. Underscore. How long have you been employees at the bakery?”

“Three weeks,” Tommy said, voice quiet from the effort of trying to shove down the nervous sounds rising in his chest. 

“And how old are you?” 

“You have our records,” Tubbo snapped. “I’m pretty sure you already fucking know.” 

“Protocol, kid, protocol. The records could be wrong.”

“And we could lie,” Tommy retorted, unable to help a glance at Tubbo.

“I’ll ask again, and this time you’re going to answer- how old are you two?”

“Sixteen,” Tommy mumbled. 

Tubbo said nothing. He was sunk back in his chair, arms folded over his chest and jaw set. His eyes were dark. 

“Tubbo. Answer me.”

“Sixteen,” Tubbo spat out. 

“Good. You’re both still in school… have any other jobs?”

“It’s summer, bitch.” 

Dream looked very much like he wanted to roll his eyes. Sapnap, standing behind him, did roll his eyes. 

“Do you have other jobs during the school year?”

“No,” Tommy said. “This is the first job either of us have had.”

“Because this city thinks hybrids are shit,” Tubbo added resentfully, “so we don’t get hired.”

“Mhm. The bakery’s friendly to hybrids, though. Can you tell me why?”

Tommy squinted at him.

“Because everyone there’s a hybrid? Except Niki.” 

“I can see that.” Dream drummed fingers on the table. “Let's drop a little of the formality here. You’re an avian, right?”

Tommy snorted, and puffed up his wings.

“Duh. Can’t fake this shit.” 

“You’d be surprised. Ever notice any avians frequenting the bakery? Smaller, hangs out with a piglin? An enderian, maybe?”

Tommy’s fists clenched.

“You’ll just arrest them if I say. So I’m not telling.”

“That’s pretty incriminating, Tommy.”

“I don’t have anything to do with the Syndicate,” Tommy said, snapping out the words.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true,” Tubbo said from where he sat.

Tommy spared him a glance. Tubbo looked tense, jaw still clenched. But he kept talking anyway.

“Neither of us have been involved with the Syndicate,” he said. “Ever. We’ve never even met a single member. We don’t know anything. ”

Dream inspected him for a moment.

“What makes your claim more credible than your friend’s?” 

Tubbo paled, and looked away. He clutched his arms tighter around himself, throat bobbing. 

“Well, if that’s that, then I’ll have to read you your rights.” Dream stood, getting out his cuffs. “You have-”

But then George put a hand on his shoulder, and he stilled. 

George looked at Tubbo. Tubbo didn’t look back, head down and antennae folded. 

“No,” George said. “He’s telling the truth.”

“How do you know?”

“He doesn’t have a choice.”

Shit.

“He’s fae.”

—————

“Wilbur, you’re not coming,” Techno said, slinging a bag over his shoulder. “It’s too dangerous.”

Wilbur grabbed his brother’s sleeve. Physically, it was a futile gesture (he’d never be able to stop Techno when muscle was involved), but somehow it still worked.

“Do this without the Syndicate,” Wilbur said. “I want to come.” 

“You didn’t even want to know!” Techno turned, mask directly in Wilbur’s face. “Why should it matter whether or not you come?”

Wilbur needed to think fast.

“If the detectives think the Syndicate is involved with my employees,” he said, “then showing up in that mask is a bad idea.”

Wilbur wasn’t strong. He wasn’t brave, or even very smart. But he sure as hell could talk himself a way out of this. 

“You run in with guns blazing, you’ll just make things worse,” Wilbur said. “Think about what will happen to Tommy. Or Tubbo.”

Techno stared at him for a long, long moment. 

Then he huffed out a growling sound. 

“Do you have a better idea?”

“We get Niki. Niki owns the bakery just like I do, and she definitely needs to know about this.”

“And Phil,” Techno said.

Wilbur blinked.

“What? Why?”

“Because Phil’s better with people than I am, and he’ll be annoyed if we leave him out.” 

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Wilbur blinked again, and looked over. Lethe was sitting on the couch, and he waved when Wilbur saw him.

“Hi, yeah, I’m here too.” 

Wilbur glanced at Techno, who’d tossed his mask and wig onto the couch. Techno glanced back. 

“What?”

“You’re just going to let him stay here?”

Techno shrugged, taking out his phone.

“Is there anything better for him to do?”

“He could get out of your house, for one.”

“I have to find Phil and Niki first.”

“They were checking out the new dealers,” Lethe said, weaving his fingers together. “The last ones got absorbed by the house.”

“Right. As civilians?”

“I think so.”

Wilbur paused, and put his hands up.

“Wait, wait. Niki’s part of the Syndicate too?”

Lethe hesitated, glancing over to Techno. 

“Uh…”

“Yeah, she is,” Techno said offhandedly. 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be getting found out,” Lethe said weakly. “What about Tommy and Tubbo?”

Techno snorted.

“They don’t know anything.” He pulled off his cape and tossed it atop the mask. “Will you tell them, Wil?”

“No! God no.” Wilbur let out a breath, running both hands through his hair. “I- I don’t want them dealing with that kind of thing.” 

“Suffer alone, eh?” Techno nodded to the fabric. “Hide that, then find somewhere to lay low. The safe house should be close enough to teleport to.”

Lethe nodded as Techno walked for the door, Wilbur trailing behind. 

They ended up taking Wilbur’s car. It was silent the whole drive, both because it was awkward and because Techno looked viscerally uncomfortable with the lack of leg room on the passenger side. Wilbur could hear him, actually, grumbling quietly to himself under the purr of the engine.

When Wilbur saw the police station come into view, all he could do was let out a breath.

What had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

Tommy could only sit, stiff and frightened as Dream inspected Tubbo with an unreadable expression.

“Fae?” He asked. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” 

“Huh. Well, take him and interrogate him separately. That way we can make sure their stories match up.” 

“Tommy no-” Tubbo grabbed at Tommy’s hands as George pulled him up, voice cracked and breathless. “You can’t- you can’t let them take me-”

“Hey. It’ll be fine. We don’t know anything, remember?” Tommy smiled. “And if you can’t break me, these bitches sure won’t.”

“It’s time to go.” 

The last thing Tommy saw of his best friend was the fear woven into his expression.

And then the door slammed, and Tubbo was gone.

Tommy let out a soft, shaky breath.

“Now what?” He asked. “You’ve got me alone. Here to pull out the whole good-cop bad-cop thing? Take me to court?” 

“No,” Dream said. “But you should probably empty your pockets for us.” 

Tommy froze.

“What?”

“Kid, you keep reaching for your pocket every time we mention the Syndicate. Empty them.”

“Isn’t- don’t you need a warrant for that or something?” 

“Sure. First option, I could have Sapnap here run over to the city center and get a judicial warrant for the contents of some teenage avian’s pockets, which would take about two hours extra and solidify in the police records that you were unwilling to cooperate with the police in a search for information on the Syndicate. Second option, we pat you down, which would be uncomfortable for everyone involved and would reflect badly on the police. Or, you know, you could dump your shit on that table right in front of you, and we’ll cut you a break. Like a friend of Sap’s says- if you have nothing to fear, you have nothing to hide. Got it?”

Tommy couldn’t. He had no idea what was on the note he’d gotten from Zephyrus, but he knew that whatever it was would put him in deeper shit than he’d been in before.

“Dude, just put it on the table,” Sapnap said with a hint of frustration in his voice. When Tommy glanced up to him, he could see a hint of orange heat and light flickering through the man’s dark hair. Shit. Maybe he should cooperate. 

Trying to stall as long as he could, Tommy searched his pockets for anything other than the note. He came up with some loose change, his phone, and two empty candy wrappers. He slid all of them out on the table, hoping that looked like everything. 

Dream slid the phone a bit closer, inspecting it. Cracks turned the screen protector into a safety hazard, the camera was broken in half, and the case was obviously more for cheap protection than anything else. 

“How long have you had this?” Dream asked, turning it over again. 

“Four years,” Tommy mumbled. 

“Has anyone been texting you while you were here?” 

Tommy shrugged.

“If my boss noticed I was gone, he’d be texting.”

Dream passed the phone to Sapnap, who looked it over and whistled while the former flipped through some papers.

“Your boss… Wilbur Soot?”

“Lamebur,” Tommy muttered. Sapnap made a very interesting coughing noise into his elbow. 

“You don’t respect your boss?” Dream asked dryly.

“Well, I- I do,” Tommy said. “But, like, why not give your boss some stupid nickname? It’s pretty sad if you don’t, I think. You should be able to roast your boss to their face and not get fired.” He hoped he didn’t sound nervous. Had he successfully distracted them? Could he get away without anyone reading the note?

“Well, you’ve had no new notifications for three hours,” Sapnap said, “and you just reached for your pocket again.”

Dream looked up from his papers.

“What’s in your pocket, Tommy?” 

Shit. Shit, fuck, fuck, ass, shit. 

Tommy pulled the note out with a suddenly-shaky hand and set it on the table.

“I haven’t read it,” he whispered. “The other day, I found it in my pocket. I don’t know anything else.”

“Why would you not read it?”

Tommy shrugged, wrapping his arms tightly around his middle.

“Knowing shit gets you killed, mate. And I don’t want my mom to bury anyone else in her life.”

Dream took the note, and unfolded the paper to read whatever was written inside. He whistled, long and slow.

“I hope for your sake that you were telling the truth. This is some pretty hefty evidence pointing to you being involved with the Syndicate.”

Tommy reached to grab the note.

“What does it say?”

Dream pulled the note out of reach. He inspected Tommy for a long moment. 

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

Dream didn’t give the note back. Instead he lowered the note to reading distance, scanning the words.

“‘Tommy’,” he read, “thank you for the conversation today. I hope you’re open to meeting again- I don’t want your wings getting neglected. Come to the same place we met originally, one week from then. I’ll see you soon. Zephyrus’.” Dream looked up from the paper just in time to see the blood leave Tommy’s face and pool in his shoes. “Do you want to explain what ‘meeting’ he’s talking about?”

Tommy looked down at his hands, which drummed on his legs. His mouth was dry.

“A- a couple days ago. I saw something- something that I shouldn’t have. The Syndicate- Zephyrus, he…” he trailed off for a moment, shaking his head. “He drugged me, so I- I don’t really know what happened. I woke up outside the bakery with that in my pocket. They knew who I was, where I worked-” His voice cracked, and he swallowed. “I don’t- I don’t know anything. I can’t tell you anything.”

“You’re sure?”

“I was drugged,” Tommy snapped, wings tense against his back. “I can’t remember anything.” 

“Can’t? Or won’t?"

“Can’t- I can’t remember.” 

Can’t remember, can’t remember hands on your wings or a rattling croon. Can’t remember because you’d be dead if they knew. Can’t remember, can’t tell.

“I know you want- you want to help, to figure this out, but I- I ca-can’t tell you anything.”

“Huh.” Dream sounded…. Odd. “Well, I’m going to wait for George to be done with your friend. We’ll process the information we got here, do some double-checks, then figure out what to do with you. Understand?”

Tommy nodded mutely. He didn’t have another choice.

—————

“You told him?” Niki’s voice rose in volume as she asked the question, earning a ‘shush’ motion from Techno. Wilbur wanted to shush her too, since the sudden sharpness and fury in her tone made him fear for his life. He’d only heard it from her a few times before, so he wasn’t used to it.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Techno said. “He walked in while I was interrogating the joker Schlatt calls a personal assistant.”

“You didn’t have to-”

“Keep it down,” Techno said. “We’re trying to get those boys without getting arrested in the process. You shouting will definitely land us in jail.”

Niki folded her arms and fixed Techno with a stone-cold gaze that didn’t match her soft pastel clothes.

“You had more options than immediately blowing your cover,” she said sharply. “Between you and Phil, maybe we should just tell the whole city.”

“Hey, Phil never told anyone his identity,” Wilbur pointed out.

“Nevermind,” Niki said, and went to sit down on a bench just outside the police station. Wilbur and Techno trailed behind, Techno sitting next to her and Wilbur still standing. “Phil should be here in a few minutes. He just stayed back to finish up.” 

Wilbur shook his head from where he stood.

“I still can’t believe you’re all in the Syndicate. How long have you been going behind my back like this?” 

“Almost since we opened the bakery,” Niki said. “But that’s all I’m telling you. Even if you know who we are, I still don’t want you getting any more information.”

“I think I’d be fine with that.” Wilbur sighed and sat down, his back against the wall of the police station. “I think this is all I can take for now. Let’s just… let’s wait for Phil.”

They didn’t have long to wait. Phil soon appeared, Ranboo in tow as he practically slid to a stop in front of the bench.

“I’m here,” he said breathlessly, disheveled wings folding back in. “Do you have the boys with you?”

“Not yet,” Wilbur said. “We were waiting for you.”

Phil nodded, and paused to get his wind back. Wilbur thoughtfully clicked his tongue, feeling just a little petty.

“So. How’d the deal go?”

Phil blinked. Ranboo, at his side, gave him and Wilbur a confused look.

“Deal?” He echoed, automatically ruling him out as a member of the Syndicate. “What deal?” 

Phil slowly, bloodlessly, turned his head to Techno.

“He knows?” He asked, voice little more than a strained whisper. “You told him?"

Techno shrugged.

“He walked in on me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Whatever you’re talking about, please let’s stop,” Ranboo pleaded. “Let’s just get Tubbo and Tommy out and leave.” 

“Please.” Wilbur stood, dusting off his jacket. His wings felt squashed. He’d probably have to let them stretch when he got home. “Hey, Ranboo?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell are you doing with Phil?”

“I, uh-”

“I didn’t want to leave him by himself,” Phil said before Ranboo could finish. “I figured this way, he had a bigger chance of getting a ride home.” 

Wilbur glanced to Ranboo, who nodded meekly.

“Right. Okay.” 

—————

Tommy slumped down further in his chair.

“I’m not talking about it.” 

“Tommy, just answer the question.” 

“It’s a stupid question. I know you have a whole-ass computer with all of this information on it- why do you need to ask me?”

“Records can be imprecise. Answer. What happened to your father?”

Tommy’s jaw felt tense. His hands were balled up on his knees, nails digging into his skin hard enough to draw blood. Red shoes red shoes red shoes red shoes red shoes- the smell was making his head swim, chirps stuck in his throat.

“He’s dead,” Tommy forced out. “My dad’s dead. There’s a certificate, records from the ambulance. A police report- I don’t. I don’t know.”

Dream inspected him coolly. 

“You’re sure that’s all?”

Tommy’s breathing rasped in his throat. 

“He- he left debts. Lots of money. I know he- he loved me. He loved me.” 

Red red red slick under his hands between his fingers- 

“Do you know what he did for work?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“No, he- he never told me.”

“He was killed during a ‘job’, according to witnesses. Stabbed. There was one other casualty besides him, and two survivors we apprehended- members of a gang that was busted up two years ago. They swore, up and down, that there was a kid there. A boy who walked right in, bold as brass, and set the whole thing off.” Dream’s voice was chilly as he laced his fingers together. They were scarred, made imperfect by oddly-colored skin and the occasional callus. “You don’t know anything about that?”

Tommy forced himself to breathe.

“I don’t,” he said. “I don’t know what happened that day- I don’t know why my dad would work with people who carried around knives.”

But you do, an unwanted voice whispered in the back of his mind. You know. You just refuse to remember.

“Anything else you want to know?” Tommy asked tightly. 

“A few more things. Then we’ll be done.” Dream gestured at Sapnap, who stood from the seat he’d taken and left the room. “What were you doing there?”

Tommy froze.

“What?” He laughed a little, hoping he didn’t sound insane. “At the bakery? I mean-”

“No,” Dream said. “I’m asking what you were doing where your father was murdered.” 

Dream had figured out. Of course he’d figured it out.

“Nothing,” Tommy said flatly. “I was thirteen, bitch, I didn’t know what was going-”

“Tommy!”

Tommy flinched. There was a burning in his eyes.

“We were shopping,” he said. “For- for a present, a present for my mom. He told me to wait, a-and I waited, but then I found some flowers I thought would be good and I wanted to show him, because hey, maybe he’d like to see!” He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t mean anything by it, honest.” His voice broke. Don’t cry don’t cry, don’t remember don’t remember red in the cement on the flowers on you red shoes red shoes red shoes forever red red red until they were thrown away. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen.” 

“Do you remember the incident?”

“No. No- no, I can’t- I can’t remember anything.” Tommy unconsciously scrubbed at his hands, shaking his head to banish thoughts and memories that clung to his mind like static. “I can’t- I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” 

“Then let’s move on. When Zephyrus said you had a conversation, what did he mean? What did you talk about?”

“I don’t know.” Tommy scrubbed at his hands still, shoulders curled. Everything seemed red- he could almost see it pouring down Dream’s front, from his mouth. “He drugged me. He drugged me, I don’t- I don’t remember.”

“When was the last time someone took care of your wings?” Hands on his feathers. “Maybe I want to be helpful.” A soft, almost comforting croon.

“If they threatened you so you wouldn’t tell us, it’s alright.” Dream’s voice was soft, the kind of tone adults would use on a kid lost at the grocery store. “We can keep you safe. We’ll protect you, move you and your mom to another city so the Syndicate will never find you. You can trust us.”

Tommy scoffed and looked away.

“Like I trusted the cops when my dad died? I’m the one who called when he was hurt. Dispatch- dispatch didn’t care. They thought I was a stupid kid trying to prank them. My dad-” His voice cracked. “He died before the ambulance even got there.”

“I’m sorry you had a bad experience,” Dream said, “but this time is different. All we want is to protect you- I get paid to make sure you and people like you are safe.” 

Tommy shrugged, and picked at a feather that had been knocked askew on his wing.

“I don’t care. Are we done or not?”

“One more question.” Dream set his laced hands down on the table. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because we’re ’suspicious’,” Tommy said flatly. “Because you think the bakery’s a front for the Syndicate. Because you want to ask me stupid questions about a man that died three years ago.” he shook his head. “None of those reasons are good enough.”

“Really? You don’t think that it’s suspicious your workplace’s income records are four times what they should be making? Your boss has ‘avian’ on his birth certificate but he never leaves his wings exposed publicly?”

Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Wilbur’s not in the Syndicate.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Because his wings are clipped,” Tommy snapped, tugging the loose feather out fully. “And he’s too lame to be a fucking terrorist. He can’t even steal a donut without getting caught.”

“Feather grafts exist,” Dream pointed out. He looked rather obviously at the feather in Tommy’s grasp. “Seems like you need a few yourself.”

“Piss off.” Tommy threw the feather down, wings snapping to his back. “My feathers are fine, for one. And for two, you asked your last question four questions ago.” 

“I see.” Dream took out an index card from his stack of papers, scribbling a string of numbers on one side before sliding it across the table towards Tommy. “Here’s my number, in case you need help or have new information for us.”

Tommy stared down at the index card. If he accepted it, it would mark his loyalties as divided.

But he wasn’t loyal to the Syndicate. He wasn’t loyal to Zephyrus. He didn’t even have that stupid note on him anymore.

“Give me back the note,” he said anyway. 

“I’m sorry, who’s the cop here?”

Tommy gritted his teeth for a second. 

“Can I please have the note?”

Dream held the note up, but when Tommy reached out he pulled back so it was out of reach. 

“You need to promise me something first.”

“Fine.”

“Promise you won’t go looking for Zephyrus.” Dream flapped the folded paper a little. “That you won’t do exactly what this note wants you to do.” 

“Why would I want to go looking for a criminal who already kidnapped me once?” Tommy snapped, and scoffed, pretending he was already convinced. “That’s suicide. I’m lucky he didn’t just sell me off when he had me last time.” he folded his arms. “I’m not that easy of a mark.”

“Then here you go.” Dream barely moved the note within grabbing range before Tommy had it in his grasp, tucking both it and the index card into his hoodie pocket. “And with that, we’re done.”

Tommy raised his eyes to the detective. 

“What now?” he asked. “Do I just wait here?”

“Mm.” Dream checked his phone, typing out a quick message to someone. “When George finishes up with your friend, we’re going to figure out what to do with you.”

Tommy hoped it didn’t involve calling his mom. She would lose her mind if she had to pick Tommy up from jail.

“I hope your boyfriend makes it quick,” Tommy muttered resentfully, folding his arms and sinking back in his chair.

—————

“How can I help you today?” The receptionist asked as Phil walked up to the desk, Wilbur hovering at one shoulder and Ranboo behind the other.

“I’m here for two boys,” Phil said with a smile. “Tommy Innit and Tubbo, uh.”

“Underscore,” Wilbur finished quickly, “Tubbo Underscore.”

The receptionist inspected the computer for a moment.

“Well, I can see if they’re up for bail….” 

“They’re teenagers,” Phil said, voice now sharp enough to crack. “Wil, would you explain who you are?”

“Wilbur Soot,” Wilbur offered, digging his drivers’ license out of his wallet. “The boys are my employees. I wasn’t contacted about their arrests, and I don’t believe that’s legal. If they could be released to me, that would be great.” 

The receptionist frowned a little, then took his drivers’ license to look it over. 

“Well, I can send someone to see if they’re able to be released…. Would you mind waiting?”

“No,” Phil said. “No, we wouldn’t mind at all.”

They joined Techno and Niki in the waiting area.

“How much is bail?” Techno asked absently, looking through an interior design magazine? “Two or three organs?”

“Five,” Wilbur told him. “We’re planning on taking out Phil’s insides behind the building. Wanna help?”

“There’s no bail,” Phil said. “They’re kids and they weren’t even technically arrested. We’re just waiting for a time they’ll be done.”

Niki shook her head. She wasn’t reading anything.

“Why couldn’t you be more subtle?”

“Us? Pray tell, who here owns the bakery?” 

“Me,” Wilbur said.

“You don’t count, you didn’t know until thirty minutes ago.”

Wilbur huffed.

“Rude. But it’s not like either of them know anything, right? It shouldn’t be that long of a wait.” 

Phil coughed.

“I mean…”

Wilbur blinked at him, then remembered and scowled.

“Right, you fucking kid-”

Phil’s hand covered his mouth before he could finish.

“We’re in a police station,” Phil said calmly and cheerfully. “Unless you want to get charged with complicity, I’d suggest you shut your mouth.”

Wilbur scowled at him, but nodded. Phil pulled away.

“You sure didn’t take him for a walk,” Wilbur snapped.

“Mate, it was safer for him.” Phil didn’t make eye contact, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

“No, no no, you took him to your house. That’s weird, Phil. Why would you take him there?”

“Because his wings looked terrible,” Phil said immediately. “I had to fix them.” 

“That’s still weird.” Wilbur shook his head. “But hey, at least Tubbo didn’t see anything, right?”

He opened his eyes in time to see everyone’s gazes go to Ranboo, who was sitting on the floor. Ranboo looked around him, and shrank a little. 

“Um. Well- well, uh, when Phil told me he was picking up Tommy, I- I saw Tubbo.”

Wilbur squinted at him. 

“And?”

“A-and, um. He said he was with Tommy.”

“Shit,” Phil said. “What did you do while you were with him?”

Ranboo paused, and looked away in a very suspicious manner. 

“That’s…. Not important.”

“Well, now I’m interested,” Techno said, looking up from his magazine.

“Wh-” Ranboo threw his arms out at Phil. “He was preening Tommy’s wings! Go after him!”

“Hey, he agreed to it!”

“Phil.” Techno gave him a look. “Look me in the eyes and tell me he consented to it of his own free will with a myriad of options.” Phil merely gave him a dirty side-eye. “Thank you. Ranboo, tell me- are you being edgy about it because you forgot, or because you did something way worse than what Phil did?”

“It sounds bad when you say it that way,” Phil muttered.

“I didn’t do anything,” Ranboo insisted, scratching the skin of his arms. 

“So why are you being so weird?” Wilbur asked.

“Spill the beans,” Techno said. 

Ranboo hunched himself up, shoulders around his ears. He continued to scratch at his arms.

“We just… talked. About stuff.”

“You know you scratch your arms when you’re nervous,” Techno pointed out. Ranboo wrapped his arms around his middle, hiding the red marks. 

“It was nothing.” 

Phil gave him a side-eye, this one more amused.

“I heard music.” 

Ranboo flushed. 

“So? Maybe I wanted to listen to music.” 

“Wilbur,” Phil said, “tell me what kind of music Ranboo listens to.”

Wilbur thought for a moment. 

“Uh…. Kind of edgy, I guess? Weird alternative stuff, lots of Ender folk music.”

Phil jabbed a finger at Ranboo. 

“He was listening to a slow dance song.” 

If Ranboo was more human, he would’ve probably looked like a radish. Maybe a beet.

“N- y- you can’t prove that!”

“I’d swear on my life,” Phil said. “And I’m not going to judge. I’m just very, very curious.” 

“Yeah, well,” Ranboo said evasively, “I don’t want to tell you. Niki already got mad at you, I don’t want her getting mad at me.”

“Ugh, Ranboo, you’re killing us!” Wilbur slumped back in his seat. “The suspense! The agony!”

“I remember the song that was playing,” Phil said in a sing-song voice, earning an elbow in the shin from Ranboo. “Ow!”

“No!” Ranboo spluttered, “you’re all- you’re all busybodies!” 

“It’s not like we have secrets,” Techno said.

“Is no one going to talk about the fact that he kicked me?”

“Phil, that’s the least of our problems right now.” Wilbur’s ears caught the receptionist calling his name, and he got up to go to the desk.

“You were asking for Tommy Innit and Tubbo Underscore, correct?”

“Yes,” Wilbur said, “that’s correct.”

“Well, they should be out in a few minutes. If you wait here, they’ll be released to you.”

Wilbur let out a relieved breath. 

“Okay. Thank you.”

He waited anxiously for the door to the station proper open, foot tapping where he stood.

Eventually, though, the metal door swung open and a man stepped out, hands on Tommy and Tubbo’s shoulders. 

The boys… didn’t look in great shape. Tommy was puffed up, wings curled around him as if he didn’t know whether to make himself smaller or bigger. His eyes darted over the room, chest rising and falling just a little too fast to be normal.

Tubbo, on the other hand, looked frozen. He might as well have been made of stone, staring unblinkingly at the floor with shoulders stiff and fists clenched. Wilbur wasn’t sure he was breathing at all. 

“You’re Wilbur Soot?” The man between the boys asked. He had dark shaggy hair, and seemed vaguely familiar, but Wilbur didn’t have the time to think of that.

“Y- yeah, yes, I am.” 

The man looked Wilbur over. 

“Hm. Avian, right? Where are your wings?” 

Wilbur frowned.

“Under my coat.” 

“Mind showing us?”

Wilbur scowled, but shucked his coat off enough to spread one of his wings. It trembled slightly with the motion, and he winced a little as a muscle tugged. Gods, his wings were shit. 

The man looked… vaguely disappointed. But he pushed Tommy and Tubbo forward anyway. 

“Keep them out of trouble,” he said as the pair hid behind Wilbur, a pair of hands on the back of his coat so he couldn’t pull it all the way back on. “Have a nice afternoon.”

Wilbur nodded and turned, just in time to see Tommy flip the detective off before they rejoined the rest of the group.

“Are you two okay?” Niki asked, all gentle concern as she looked the boys over.

“We’re fine,” Tommy said, folding his arms. Tubbo, at his side, said nothing, merely kept walking so he’d keep up with the group as they left the police station and hit the sidewalk.

Wilbur gave them each a cursory glance, then sighed and said something he’d probably regret later- 

“You two can have the rest of the day off, but since I know neither of you can go home yet, uh, we can go to….” Shit. He hadn’t thought this over yet. Where would they go? His house was busy getting the washing machine repaired! Niki’s apartment barely fit three people!

“Phil’s,” Techno said. “We can go to Phil’s.”

Wilbur opened his mouth, then paused. When he looked over, he could see Phil’s slightly fretful expression as he inspected Tommy.

Wilbur sighed, and carefully laid a hand on the spot where Tommy’s shoulder became feathered wing. Tommy’s feathers puffed for a second, but smoothed just as quickly.

“Yeah. Let’s go to Phil’s. Is that okay?”

Tommy nodded. Tubbo’s jaw tensed for a moment, but he jerked his head in what might’ve been a nod as well.

“Oh, well, um- I better go home and clean.” Phil half-sped and half-stumbled ahead of the group, gaining a lead of a few feet. “I’ll go ahead and make sure the house isn’t a mess.” 

Wilbur squinted a little, the sun briefly interrupted as Phil spread his wings and took flight. He rose, clothes and hair whipping in the wind, then dipped over a building and was gone.

Wilbur dragged his attention back to Tommy’s and Tubbo.

“Did they give you too much of a hard time?” He asked.

Tubbo shrugged, but Tommy burst like a dam.

“Yes! Yes, they asked so many stupid questions, a-and they thought you were Zephyrus!”

Wilbur blinked, and couldn’t help a laugh. How much of a ridiculous coincidence was that?

“Oh? I hope you didn’t tell them I was.” 

It figured. Everyone else in his family was a criminal, and he was the only one accused.

“I told them you’re too lame,” Tommy blurted out, bumping against Wilbur’s side. “And you can’t fly with those dumb clipped wings.”

Wilbur flinched a little, which Tommy didn’t see.

“I’m not lame!” He protested, gently prodding Tommy's ribs so he shrieked. “You’re lame!” 

“Am not!” Tommy elbowed him. “I’m the biggest man out there! No room for lame behavior!”

“There’s plenty of room,” Wilbur teased, knuckles skating up to knock on Tommy’s skull. “What with all this hot air you’ve got in here.”

“Oh, you! You-” Tommy spluttered wordlessly, slapping Wilbur’s hand away. “You suck!”

“Takes one to know one, gremlin. Your insults suck ass.”

“You’re mean,” Tommy muttered, petulantly knocking his face against Wilbur’s shoulder. “I’m telling Phil you were being mean.”

“What’s he gonna do about it?” Wilbur sniffed, stepping off the curb to enter the parking lot.

“While this is entertaining,” Techno said, “I gave the van keys to Phil and now our only ride’s thirty minutes’ walk across the city.”

“Oh,” Wilbur said. “Shit.” His car didn't have the room for all of them.

“So we can have Phil come back, or we can walk.” 

“But it’s a million degrees,” Tommy whined. “Tubs, back me up here.”

Tubbo, who’d been looking at his phone, jerked his head up with a panicked expression. 

“Huh?” He looked wildly uncomfortable, even though he was standing right next to Ranboo and those two had been thick as thieves the day before. “What?”

“Do you want to walk all the way to Phil’s house so we melt?” 

“I, personally, don’t want to walk.” Niki pulled out her phone. “I’m calling Phil. You hybrids want to walk, you feel free.” She tilted her head. “Though I do have to note, neither cardinals nor insects have great stamina.” 

“But humans are pursuit predators,” Ranboo pointed out. “Wouldn’t that balance it out?”

Tubbo snorted, and Ranboo gave him a frowning look.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Tubbo said, voice tart.

“Phil’s on his way.” Niki stuck her phone back in one pocket and tilted her head back, taking in a deep breath. “I am so ready to be done with this nonsense.” 

“Well, I’m waiting for him.” Tommy folded his arms and leaned against the side of the van. “Tubs, you coming?”

Tubbo’s shoulders curled around his head. 

“I- I can’t. Sorry. He already knows I was at the police station, he’s- he’s coming to pick me up in a few. And it’s better to let things blow over at home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Okay, bye.” Tommy waved, and Tubbo gave him a thin smile before turning and walking back to the police station.

He looked very small, sitting alone on one of the benches. Wilbur glanced over at Ranboo, who was watching Tubbo with a confused and worried expression. Well, at least someone cared. 

“Does Phil have food?” Tommy asked nonchalantly, rocking on his feet. “‘Cause I’m hungry.”

Wilbur snorted, and ruffled Tommy’s hair.

“You’re always hungry. A few minutes won’t make a difference.”

“Ugh, you suck,” Tommy complained. “Techno, tell Wilbur he’s being a dick.”

Wilbur heard Tommy’s stomach rumble, quietly, but all Tommy did was pick at the front of his hoodie. 

Wilbur blinked, and checked his phone. Several hours past lunch. When had Tommy last eaten a meal in front of Wilbur, anyway? He’d gotten arrested before lunch, and while he’d spent all morning inhaling goods while he thought Wilbur wasn’t looking he’d said he’d eaten breakfast. Was he lying?

Wilbur looped one arm around Tommy’s neck.

“Hey, I never said I wouldn’t help you nick shit from Phil’s fridge.” Wilbur grinned at Tommy, and must’ve done something right because one red wing settled against his back. 

“A-actually, uh, I think I’ll head home,” Ranboo said. “I need to run some errands.”

“That’s fine,” Niki told him. “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”

Ranboo nodded, and popped out of existence in a small flurry of end particles.

“Now he’s just gloating,” Niki said, fanning her face with a glance over at Techno. The piglin looked completely fine with the nearly boiling weather, though he blinked and startled out of his trance as Niki’s sweater plopped over his head.

“Heh? What did I do?” He extracted himself from the sweater, inspecting it for a moment before handing it back to Niki. “I don’t think it’s my size.”

Tommy snickered as Niki let out a wistful sigh. 

“I guess I’ll melt, then.” 

Techno shrugged.

“Skill issue.”

Niki gave him a dirty look, slumping down against the side of the van next to Tommy. 

“The bakery is air-conditioned. Next time, stay there so no one gets arrested.”

Wilbur watched her for a moment. Niki was breathing heavier than normal, hair sticking to her temples with sweat. Being the only human, she didn’t have the luxury of doing alright in the heat. Ouch.

“She needs a popsicle when we get to Phil’s,” Wilbur whispered to Tommy. “Or maybe an ice bath. She’s steaming.”

Tommy laughed, and Wilbur grinned in victory.

A moment later, Phil landed neatly one-two in the parking lot, and cheerfully jangled his keys.

“Need a lift?”

“Oh my god yes.” Niki slid into shotgun, earning Techno’s noise of complaint. “Human privileges. In the back.”

“That’s just unfair,” Tommy huffed, but climbed into the back and sat next to Wilbur.

“Yeah,” Techno agreed, arranging his legs around a suspicious-looking box. “Shotgun has all the leg room.”

“Calm down, you drama queens,” Phil said. “It’s not like we’re going on a road trip. If you want to sit up front, it’s first come first served.” He glanced in the rear view mirror, turning the van on, and couldn’t stifle a snort. Techno, Tommy, and Wilbur all had their arms folded and identical scowls on their faces. “You could be siblings with those dirty looks you’re giving me.”

Tommy spluttered. 

“Fuck that! I’m too cool to be Wilbur’s brother.” 

Wilbur snorted this time. 

“Not for Techno?”

“Nah. Techno’s way cooler than you.”

“Ha, L,” Techno said. 

“I am cool,” Wilbur said.

“Are not,” Tommy piped back. 

Wilbur bent to wrap an arm around Wilbur, pulling him into a side hug and using his chin to trap Tommy’s head. 

“Little baby children don’t get to decide,” Wilbur cooed. Tommy struggled and protested vehemently at first, no doubt unwilling to suffer in the added heat of Wilbur-plus-sweater-plus-coat. But after a moment, Tommy stopped fighting and actually melted into the hold, chest buzzing but no actual sounds leaving him.

“You’re mean,” he mumbled childishly. 

“Yep, I’m your mean, lame, big brother boss.”

“Sounds wrong. Like you, you’re a wrongun.” Tommy chirped, the sound content. “You suck and I hate you.” 

“Sure you do,” Wilbur said, unconsciously warbling back.

Phil warbled from the front, too, and Niki sighed.

“Avians. Maybe I should’ve walked home.”

“You get used to it,” Techno said dryly. 

The rest of the drive was comfortably silent, occasionally interrupted by a chirp from Tommy. He was scowling, but he seemed happy to just stay where he was, tucked into Wilbur’s side like a lonely child. Which, in a way, he was.

When they finally got to the apartment building, Wilbur started to get up but was stopped by Tommy chirping loudly and grabbing him to drag him back down.

“Tommy, I need to get out of the car.” 

“Nope,” Tommy said. “Overruled.”

“I overrule your overruling,” Techno said, hauling Tommy and Wilbur out of the car with them tucked under his arms. “Time for food. You all like food.”

“Yes!” Tommy said, squirming but not getting anywhere until Techno dropped him and he yelped, popping back up a second later. “I’m up! Food time!” 

“Techno,” Wilbur grumbled, legs tucked so they wouldn’t drag on the sidewalk. “Let me down .”

Techno hummed thoughtfully, reaching the stairs and starting to go up with a clang-clang-clang of metal. 

“Nope.”

Wilbur attempted to kick him.

“You’re going to break my ribs!”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Stop squirming or I’ll drop you.” 

“Let go!” Wilbur pushed his wings out, which didn’t do much except startle Techno into dropping him, which he promptly regretted when he hit the stairs and almost shattered immediately on impact. “Shit fuck! Ack!”

Tommy hopped over him, tongue stuck out.

“Should’ve let me carry you,” Techno said. Wilbur flipped him off, then picked himself up with a wince and followed the two to the stairs.

“I live in fear of what the neighbors think,” Phil said with a disappointed sigh. “It sounds like you’re murdering each other.”

“Maybe they did,” Tommy said cheerfully. “They killed each other already and now you just hallucinate them.”

“Probably,” Phil agreed with a shrug. “They’ve been this way their whole lives.” 

“And we all go along with it because you’re a sad old man,” Tommy said, nodding. “Poor ancient fuck whose sons killed each other at such a tender age.”

“I’m not ancient, you little shit.” Phil sniffed and rustled his wings.

“You are old,” Wilbur told him. “All of you is grey, old man.”

“That’s because of dealing with you! I’ll be shedding before my time if you keep this shit up.”

“His name is Philza Minecraft,” Tommy sang, hopping up and down on one stair. “He’s a big fat chicken and he is quite old! He is quite old with one foot in the grave!”

“Ohmygod Tommy run he’s gonna kill you-”

Once inside, Tommy safely stashed behind the couch so he wouldn’t fall prey to the murderous old man that was Phil, Wilbur slid inside the kitchen to ransack the fridge. 

“Popsicle time! Niki, maybe you’ll be less melty and grumpy if you have one.” 

“I’m not grumpy,” Niki said, taking the popsicle she was handed and peeling off the wrapped. “Just overheated.”

“If any of you drip on the floor you’re mopping,” Phil warned them, entering with Tommy and Techno but perching on a barstool instead of taking a popsicle. “And that means any of you, relative or not.”

“Aw, Phil.” Techno passed a popsicle to Tommy, who was sitting on the counter. “Mopping is boring.” 

“Then don’t spill on my floors.”

“They’re my floors too.”

“Stop fighting,” Tommy said, kicking Techno. “They’ll melt.”

“Gremlin has spoken, better listen.” Wilbur tried to catch a drip of red before it got past his wrist and partially succeeded.

“Like I’ll listen to a nestling three times younger than me,” Phil said.

“Thre-” Tommy frowned, counting on his free hand. Then he smirked. “Wow, you are an ancient fuck. Almost fifty and still kicking.” 

Phil gave him a look.

“Eat your damn popsicle.”

Tommy looked smug, hopping off the counter and sinking himself down in a chair next to Wilbur, who’d kicked his feet up on the table as if he came to this house all the time, yep, he definitely wasn’t estranged from his father at all.

“You doing okay?” he asked Tommy. “Feeling better?”

Tommy paused and glanced up. His eyes were wary.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, you got arrested,” Wilbur said. “And interrogated, and, why? It must’ve been scary.”

Tommy shrugged. 

“Pissed me off, more. Those assholes kept asking me questions like I could answer.”

“What kind of questions?” Techno asked, seeming oblivious to the blue syrup running down his arm.

Tommy looked away. 

“Why did they even arrest you?” Niki asked. “They must’ve said why.”

Tommy’s wings curled around him.

“They- they wanted to know about the Syndicate.” 

The four adults exchanged glances. None of those glances got anyone on a remotely similar page, though, because four people spoke up at once.

“Why were they interrogating you without a guardian present?” Niki asked.

“Why would they arrest you for something the Syndicate did?” Techno demanded.

“What did they ask you, Tommy?”

“What does the Syndicate have to do with my bakery?”

Tommy tucked himself in tighter, eyes on his feet.

“I don’t know!” He said, voice strained. “I don’t- I don’t know, they asked me loads of things, shit like money and my dad and Wilbur and the note-”

“What note?”

“I don’t- I don’t know anything!” Tommy cried out, swiping an arm over his eyes. “You’re all- stop asking questions all at once! I ca- I can’t-”

“Hey,” Wilbur said, attempting to soothe Tommy with circles rubbed into his back, “hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” 

“I didn’t know what it said,” Tommy choked, popsicle nearly meeting a fateful end in his hair before Techno gently took it away.

“You didn’t know what what said?”

“The- I can’t, I can’t-” Tommy shook his head, face buried in his arms. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”

Wilbur made an executive decision and pulled Tommy into a full hug, Tommy’s breath stuttering against him.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur said. “It’s okay. It must’ve been stressful, Toms, I’m so proud of you for getting through it.” 

Tommy let out a long, shuddering breath, and buried himself deeper in Wilbur’s arms. Across the room, Niki scowled at Phil, who blinked back. 

“If you have a problem, Niki, you can leave.” 

“I think I will. After all that commotion, I don’t think anybody closed up.” 

Wilbur had been looking down, so all he heard was the click of the front door as Niki left, but after a moment he looked up at Phil.

“What did you do?” He asked silently.

Phil blinked, and shrugged.

“He seemed fine last time I saw him,” he mouthed back.

“I’m so tired,” Tommy muttered against Wilbur’s chest, drawing his attention back. “But that’s stupid. I haven't done anything.” 

“You’re stressed,” Techno said, looking just a little concerned as he tried to manage the two melting popsicles in his hands. “It wears you out.” 

“Ugh. But I can’t sleep at night either.” Tommy relaxed even more, wings uncurling so the feathers brushed against Wilbur’s arms. 

Wilbur gave Techno a pleading glance, so the piglin rolled his eyes but took Wilbur’s popsicle so an even worse mess wouldn’t be made when Wilbur pulled Tommy onto his lap to avoid any more awkward leaning. 

“What am I, a puppy?” the boy muttered sullenly, tucking his head under Wilbur’s chin. Wilbur snorted.

“You kind of act like one,” he teased slightly. “Even if more like a nestling than a puppy. Always hungry, fluffy little noisy thing-”

“Shut up,” Tommy said, pausing to yawn and chirrup sleepily. “Am not.”

“Technically you are,” Wilbur pointed out. “You’re an avian and everything.”

Tommy pulled his head away to shoot Wilbur a squintily disgruntled look, then nestled deeper into Wilbur’s hold with an incoherent mumble. Wilbur purred back, allowing himself this one thing because of the kid falling asleep in his arms, wing draping over his shoulder. God, Tommy was small. Sure, he wasn’t exactly short, but he was… light. Bony. For a baby baby avian, that wouldn’t be strange- Wilbur had seen his own baby pictures. But for a sixteen year old? An only child? It was… worrying. 

Nobody had spoken in some time. Probably because of Tommy, who was restless until his breathing shifted into something deeper and slower. He still chirped occasionally, but Wilbur knew he was asleep.

And with that, both Wilbur and Techno looked over at Phil, an identical phrase freed from two sets of teeth:

“We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Tubbo slammed the door to his room, then promptly regretted it and cringed while he waited for the inevitable shout.

“You’ll break the hinges!” It was Quackity’s voice that echoed through the house, though Tubbo still remained tense. 

“Then I’ll fix them!” Tubbo shouted back, not annoyed- okay, yes, he was just a little bit annoyed -but in this moment volume was more important.

He flopped down on his bed, a knot of emotion twisting under his sternum.

I’m sure Tommy will be okay, he told himself. He likes Wilbur and whatever, it’s fine, he doesn’t need me there.

But the rest of him, as was typical, wasn’t reassured. Tommy still hadn’t texted, so how was Tubbo supposed to know if he was okay? How were they supposed to talk? What else was Tubbo supposed to do, lay around and stare at the wall in silence?

Tubbo rolled onto his back, pulling a pillow over his head so at least he wouldn’t be staring directly at the lights.

“I’m pathetic,” he mumbled into the pillow, “he’s probably busy, and I shouldn’t be bothering him.”

And like clockwork, the mental hiss bubbled up from the shadowy crannies of his mind. 

Pathetic, needing attention like a child. If Tommy wanted to talk to you, wanted you around, then he’d text. You were with him just ten minutes ago, don’t be a nuisance by doing anything now. Who cares if you’re lonely? Tommy has better things to do than babysit you, and you have better things to do than lay around and whine about how lonely you are.

Tubbo audibly groaned into his pillow, the sound rising up into a muffled scream as he attempted to banish the thoughts sticking to his mind like molasses.

“I’m fine!” He half-shouted at himself. “I’m fine! I’m the one that left, not Tommy, so I chose this! It’s fine!”

Even with that insistence, hope jumped up into his throat as soon as his phone buzzed, and Tubbo nearly fell off his bed in the scramble to grab it.

But it wasn’t Tommy.

It was Ranboo.

Oh.

Ranboo: hey

Ranboo: are you mad at me?

Ranboo: I’m sorry if i did something wrong

Tubbo snorted.

“If?”

Bee: *If* is the wrong word to use.

Ranboo: what do you mean?

Bee: you know what i mean

Ranboo: i

Ranboo: i don’t, actually

Bee: i’m not going to spell it out for you

Ranboo: oh

Ranboo: i’m sorry anyway

Tubbo frowned. Compared to the mood when they’d fought, Ranboo was acting completely different.

Bee: do you remember?

Bee: what happened this morning?

Ranboo: no?????????/

Ranboo: why???????

Ah. That… explained a few things.

Bee: nothing. Sorry i’ll stop being salty now

Ranboo: okay lol. Something bothering you?

Why you were so unfriendly earlier, Tubbo wanted to say. But he couldn’t.

Bee: It’s not important. How’s your arm doing?

Ranboo: my arm?

Bee: ye you were scratching a lot earlier

Ranboo: oh

Ranboo: it’s a nervous habit

Ranboo: you don’t need to worry about it

Bee: did something happen?? To make you nervous?

Ranboo: i can’t really remember. Tech told me something about a friend, i think, and i didn’t like it

Ranboo: i was kind of frazzled after that

Bee: oh, sorry. You must’ve been pretty worried.

Worried enough that Ranboo was irritable, and emotional… Tubbo couldn’t help wondering what was stressful enough to make Ranboo break blood vessels

Ranboo: I’m surprised you’re not joking about me having other friends

Bee: i wasn’t planning on it

Bee: why? Are they more charming than me?

Ranboo: no

Ranboo: surprisingly

Tubbo smiled unconsciously.

Bee: awwwww i knew I was your favorite

Ranboo: i don’t even remember which friend techno was talking about

Bee: oof

There was a pause. 

Ranboo: I know I already asked this, but

Ranboo: is something bothering you?

Tubbo frowned, but couldn’t dodge around the question this time.

Bee: kinda. I get home and my dad and his PA were both yelling at me after i got fucking INTERROGATED

Ranboo: oh. I’m sorry.

Ranboo: but even before that, I feel like you were acting weird even before you got picked up. 

Ranboo: and not even when i tried talking to you

Bee: had a lot on my mind

Tubbo was nervous. Why couldn’t Ranboo just drop the subject? 

A buzz, and Tubbo warily looked down at his screen.

Did something happen at the station?

Tubbo stiffened. 

—————

“You can’t prove I’m fae,” Tubbo snapped at the man who’d pulled him aside. “Look at me, bitch, I’m a fucking bee.”

“If you don’t know anything about fae, maybe.” The guy- what was his name? - was leaning against the door. “Mind if I dim the lights?”

Tubbo shook his head.

“Great. Anyway, I’m no stranger to spotting fae, and even I had a hard time with you. You’re half, I’d guess.”

“And you can tell how ?” Tubbo asked with a scowl, crossing his arms. Glasses guy moved to the interrogation table, pushing the aforementioned glasses up into his hair and taking a seat.  

“You’ve been passing as a bee hybrid, that’s pretty obvious, but watching you, considering that your dad’s a goat, you’ve danced around all of the questions Dream’s asked you but told the truth as soon as your friend was questioned- you’re fae. I know.” Glasses propped one of his elbows on the table, fingers drumming against his face. His eyes were dark, glittery and strange as they watched Tubbo. “What I haven’t been able to figure out, though, is where the hell you came from. Last I knew, there was exactly one fae left in the city.”

“Yeah? Who?” Tubbo was pissed at this guy, acting like he knew everything.

Glasses pointed to himself.

“Me.”

Tubbo paused, then scoffed and narrowed his eyes.

“You don’t look fae either. How am I supposed to know you’re telling the truth?”

Glasses shrugged.

“You don’t. But look at me, really look at me, and say I’ve ever been able to lie. That I’ve never felt the strain of being held to a promise, the way a soul threatens to fracture under the stress.”

“Then you have to prove it.” Tubbo folded his arms. 

“How?”

“What’s the color of Dream’s jacket?”

Glasses thought for a moment.

“How I see it, or what color it actually is?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, there’s the fact that no two people see color exactly the same,” Glasses said, “But also, I wouldn’t be able to answer truthfully without knowing what you’re asking.”

“Why?” Tubbo asked.

“I’m colorblind,” Glasses replied dryly. “Red-green, to be specific. I’m one of the nocturnal varieties of fae, so I wasn’t blessed with good color vision. I look at Dream, I’d say his jacket’s yellow, but if you look at it, you’d probably say it’s green. When truth’s relative, which would be the lie?”

Yeah, this guy was totally fae. Tubbo, however, still wanted to mess around a bit.

“You’re nocturnal, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you turned off the lights?”

Glasses dipped his head. 

“It’s easier to see.”

“Uhuh.” Tubbo leaned back in his chair, mind already spinning. “Tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

“Four,” Glasses said as Tubbo moved his hands. “Two. Five, on two different hands. That’s an okay sign. That’s a thumbs up.” 

“Passed with flying colors,” Tubbo said, and dropped his hands again.

“I’ve done you a favor,” Glasses said. “Now will you do me one?”

Tubbo frowned. 

“Fine.”

“How have you stayed in the city?”

“You do know who my dad is, right?” Tubbo shrugged. “Plus, I have no idea. My dad never told me, and I’ve lived here long as I can remember.”

“Considering Schlatt’s ties, I’m not surprised,” Glasses said flatly. “But, of course, there’s the fact that he’s never been married, never had any reported partners or lovers of any kind. Your last name is certainly not his, but it’s pretty obvious that half your genes are . So let me guess- your mom had an unlucky rendezvous, dumped you on Schlatt’s doorstep when the evacuations began, and called it good. Does that seem right?”

Tubbo snorted. 

“I have no fucking clue, man, why are you asking me?”

“To see how much you know.”

“Why?”

“That’s a question I’m not legally allowed to answer.”

Tubbo scowled. He didn’t like this favor , didn’t like how Glasses was implying he’d been made and then abandoned like a particularly lively hot potato. 

“I’ve answered all of yours, bitch, that’s not fair.”

“Yep. Thing is, I’ve made promises, and you know how that goes. Ask whatever you want, but don’t be surprised if I can’t answer.”

“How did you stay in the city?”

Glasses, who’d been scribbling on some papers, looked up. 

“I was… given immunity. 

“Why?”

“I’d started working with investigators, and I was considered valuable enough to keep.” Glasses slowly shook his head. “The rest of my community wasn’t as lucky.”

“How come only the fae were kicked out of the city?”

“I don’t know. Our history of unsavory deals and bargains, maybe, or our melting pot of traits that made us difficult to slot into the city’s census demographics.” Glasses shrugged. “What I do know is that we were considered untrustworthy.”

“They don’t trust us when all we can speak is the truth,” Tubbo said bitterly. 

“Honesty isn’t always considered a virtue,” Glasses replied. “In this world, often it’s a threat.”

—————

Ranboo: tubbo?

Ranboo: you still there?

Tubbo blinked, startled out of the memory. 

Bee: yeah

Bee: sorry, got distracted

Ranboo: i’m sorry

Ranboo: if i upset you

Ranboo: or did anything like that to make you mad at me

Bee: don’t worry about it, bossman.

Tubbo put his phone down and faceplanted back into the bed. 

Maybe I should tell him, he mused. It’s not Ranboo’s fault he can’t remember us arguing, so I should tell him- I can’t tell him- I don’t know what to tell him. 

Ranboo might believe anything Tubbo said, but he also had this funny habit of picking up on things left unsaid even when Tubbo was trying to make everything seem fine. So maybe Tubbo shouldn’t tell him. 

But he’s my friend (is he?) he deserves to know. Does he count? This isn’t like with Tommy (maybe that’s a good thing). 

A part of Tubbo, just for a moment, tried to imagine what Ranboo was doing. Was he home, right now? Curled up on the couch, waiting for a message? Was he at Phil’s, hanging out with Tommy and only sparing the occasional thought for Tubbo?

There was a knock on the door and Tubbo groaned into his pillow, driven out of his musings and entirely not in the mood to deal with people.

“I don’t want to talk,” he said, partly muffled, but heard the door crack open anyway.

“Well, I’m not here to talk either,” Schlatt said. “Just ask some questions. What was all that shit about you and Tommy being part of the Syndicate? They never should’ve been questioning you without me there.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want to talk about it.” Tubbo pulled his pillow back over his head, enough swirling in his ribcage that he worried his voice would crack.

“Come on, bug, talking lets me know everything’s good.” Schlatt had moved closer, evidently, because a moment later his hand was on Tubbo’s back, between his wings. “I want to know at least a little bit.”

Tubbo felt cold. The swirling in his chest had turned to crawling in his spine, and for a moment it seemed that he was being crushed under the weight of the sky. 

“Did- did you know there were other fae in the city?” Tubbo asked, trying to divert the conversation and Schlatt’s attention. He shifted, a little, as if to get up (get away from the hand) but Schlatt pressed him back into the bed, humming thoughtfully and stroking along the joints of his wings. Schlatt’s life, his energy or whatever, it felt like slivers of glass. 

“I guessed some had slipped through the cracks. Why?”

Shit.

“There was a fae there, at- at the station,” Tubbo said. “He talked to me, he could tell I was fae and said some things- some things he must’ve thought were true.”

“He could have lied.” Schlatt delicately traced the line where chitin became skin, Tubbo’s nerves crawling as though he would turn inside-out (why were Ranboo’s hands comforting while these made him want to scream). “You’re kind of shit at telling when someone’s lying to you.” 

“Yeah, but… he talked like a fae, if that makes any sense. He…” Tubbo hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. “He told me what he thought had happened to my mom.”

Schlatt’s hand lifted away, but it wasn’t reassuring. 

“What?”

“He said she’d- she’d dumped me on your doorstep. That you guys weren’t married, which I could already guess. But why leave me? Why not take me to another city where it would be safer for fae?” Tubbo knew better than to incessantly ask questions, but right now he almost couldn’t stop, practically rambling out every thought that crossed his mind. 

Luckily, Schlatt merely grunted thoughtfully. 

“She couldn’t keep you, that’s why. And it was a surprise to me too, opening my door one day and finding her standing outside with you in her arms.”

Tubbo couldn’t help feeling like he’d missed something.

“Wh- did she not want me? Why couldn’t she keep me?”

“I’d say she wanted you, considering that she was crying the whole damn time, but her work wouldn’t be friendly to the idea so she didn’t really have a choice but to give you to me. Then, well, I never saw her again.”

“Her work? Is that how you met her?”

Schlatt coughed suspiciously like a nervous laugh.

“That’s- that’s one way to describe it, but it’s, uh, it’s a bit of a long story.”

Tubbo pushed his pillow away, sitting up to face his dad.

“I have time.” 

Schlatt gave him a look, then sighed and shook his head. 

“I was on a work trip, checking out a casino I was thinking of buying.” He paused, and made a face. “I know I don’t exactly coddle you, but maybe it’d be better if you figure this out by yourself instead of making me explain.”

“I’m not five.” Tubbo hugged his pillow to his chest, shielding him from the cold and the sting that threatened to overtake his spine. “I want you to tell me.”

Schlatt grumbled to himself but continued.

“Look, bug, you see someone pretty on a trip like that, you end up messing around, then end up shelling out a few thousand for the pleasure of her company. And ten months later, you’re handed a half-fae kid.” He let out a small bark of laughter. “I really got the short end of the stick in this situation, huh?”

It finally clicked, and Tubbo buried his face in the pillow with his groan. 

“I regret ever asking. Seriously, you didn’t know her at all?”

Schlatt made an uncertain ‘e-e-eh’ noise that came out more goat-y than conversational.

“I knew her as well as anyone does after, uh, a day or two. And when she came with you, she said, um… shit, what did she say?” Schlatt paused, probably searching his memories. “Ah, right, she told me that she regretted her choice of career given the circumstances, but she didn’t have much of a choice. It paid well, and sometimes that’s all that matters.” He coughed, then halfway changed directions with a poke in Tubbo’s side that made him jump. “Take my advice, bug, don’t spend too much money on someone you like, no matter how cute they are.” 

“Understood,” Tubbo muttered.

“Oh, how bitter the honey this year.” Schlatt leaned closer, wiggling his eyebrows. “Having troubles with your own drink of water?”

“I- ew!” Tubbo smacked him with the pillow. “Don’t say it like that, you sound like a creep! And everything’s fine, nothing’s going on!”

“Okay, Jesus, I was making a joke not an attack.” Schlatt rolled his eyes and moved away again. “Tommy fine?”

“I guess.” Tubbo drummed his fingers on the pillow. “I dunno. I’m worried his mom will freak out if she knows.” 

“How big a freak-out?”

“Probably ground him forever.” 

Schlatt huffed in amusement.

“Well, I’ll make sure she doesn’t find out.” From his pocket, a phone beeped, and he heaved himself off the bed. “Time to get back to work. Talk later, alright?”

“Okay.” Tubbo fiddled with the seam of his pillow. “Talk later.”

Schlatt ruffled his hair, knocking his head to the side, then left. With him gone, Tubbo sighed and flopped back against the bed to stare at his ceiling. Like always, the patterns of the ceiling texture formed themselves into shapes. Today, Tubbo could almost swear he was looking at a field of grass, at someone gazing in wonder at what wasn’t visible.

Tubbo’s back twinged, and he pulled the pillow back over his face.

—————

Snatches of humming formed the background of Tubbo’s awareness while he rolled balls of snickerdoodle in a bowl of cinnamon sugar. Not his humming, but Ranboo’s, who was reorganizing the fridge. 

Tubbo occasionally glanced over at him, mind turning this moment over and over.

What’s it like, Tubbo wondered, to forget things so completely it’s like an argument never happened? To become an entirely different person than you were yesterday? Does this mean Ranboo doesn’t remember why we argued in the first place? 

“I hope you ate breakfast,” Tubbo said aloud, eyes on his bowl but aware of Ranboo’s attention anyway. 

“Hm? Why?”

“I don’t feel like babying you,” Tubbo said airily, and glanced up. Ranboo sniffed, ears twitching, and put back the big container of eggs.

“Excuse you, I am- I am a grown adult, and don’t need to be babied.” He inspected a jug of cream, more intentionally sniffing that and then throwing it away with a wince. “Plus, I did eat breakfast, so ha.”

“Grown adult?” Tubbo repeated. “You’re seventeen.”

“Maybe,” Ranboo said primly, and bumped the fridge door shut with one foot before coming to help Tubbo. “How would you know when my birthday is? In fact, maybe you should be babied.”

“Yeah, right,” Tubbo said with a scoff. “In case you, ha ha, forgot, I can remember when I’m supposed to eat.”

Ranboo pointed at him, rolling dough into balls with the other hand and doing it way quicker than Tubbo. 

“And I can remember what I’m not supposed to eat. You, sir, ate raw tart crust and gave yourself salmonella.”

Tubbo let out an offended gasp, brushing his hands together to knock off extra cinnamon sugar.

“Low blow, he who forgets to eat at all, low blow.”

Ranboo didn’t say anything, but he looked rather smug with a swish of his tail and set aside a tray filled with snickerdoodle balls.

“All blows are low blows because of how short you are.”

“Rude.” Tubbo’s hands were covered in stuff, so he swatted Ranboo with one of his wings. “I don’t know why I hang out with you, Boo, you’re being mean.”

Ranboo laughed, pulling a second tray closer and lining up the dough balls Tubbo handed him.

“Why do you even call me that?” he asked after a second.

“It’s a nickname,” Tubbo replied flatly. “What, you’ve never heard of a nickname before?”

“I have,” Ranboo said with an eye roll when he turned back. “But it sounds more like a pet name.” 

Oh.

“Makes sense to me,” Tubbo said, hoping his voice sounds normal. “Y’know, you’re twitchy, get scared easily, spooky things say ‘boo’, etcetera etcetera.”

“Uhuh,” Ranboo said, not sounding convinced. 

“Bitch, you know I can’t lie!” Tubbo stamped one foot, then looked down at the bowl before him. It was almost empty, so he wiped his hands off on his apron to get more ingredients.

Ranboo wordlessly pushed over the container of cinnamon, which he’d someone been holding

“Thanks,” Tubbo said absently, pulling the bag of sugar closer and hunting down the measuring spoons. After a moment of mixing the sugar and cinnamon together, he felt eyes on him and glanced up. “What’s up?”

“N-nothing,” Ranboo stuttered, “nothing, I- um, you- you have- you- you’ve got sugar on your face.”

Tubbo looked back down, swiping an arm across his face.

“Now I don’t.”

“You missed it,” Ranboo said meekly. “It’s- it’s next to your nose.” 

Tubbo, both hands covered in the very stuff allegedly on his face, frowned and spared one wrist to rub next to his nose.

“You- you missed again, maybe- okay, just- here.” Ranboo, somehow the longest bitch alive, leaned over the table to hold Tubbo’s face. 

“Um,” Tubbo said hoarsely, frozen from the snowflakes on his cheeks and how light Ranboo’s hands were.

“Hold still, a-a-and…” Ranboo’s thumb gently brushed over a spot beneath Tubbo’s eye (he sucked in a breath) and he returned to his own side of the table, ears flicking down. “Sorry, I just- um. Thank- no, it’s- it’s you’re welcome.” 

“Thanks,” Tubbo said softly, and Ranboo nodded embarrassedly before going back to the snickerdoodles. 

“Get a room,” Tommy said, elbowing Ranboo over to grab the bag of flour.

“Get a life,” Tubbo shot back, trying to suppress the heat rising in his face. “Weird- weird-ass fucking bitch.”

Ranboo bit back a smile, ducking his head, and Tubbo pointed at him. 

“You too! You’re- you’re being like Tommy!”

“Hm? How?” Ranboo looked up, big green and red eyes on Tubbo. 

Tubbo spluttered, dropping his gaze to the bowl and almost flattening a ball of dough in his distracted haste. 

“I- I don’t have to explain myself to you, tall fucker. Yeah, you’re annoyingly tall and it’s annoying.”

“It sounds like you’re running out of insults,” Ranboo noted. “Insect.”

“Says you .”

“Did you know a centaur’s technically an insect because they have six limbs?” Tommy butted in, obviously craving chaos.

“So, by definition, you’re an insect.” Ranboo pointed to Tommy’s wings. “Those are two extra limbs, right there, and since you have both arms and both legs that gives you six, which makes you very solidly a centaur.”

“Wings don’t count, all true insects have wings,” Tommy replied immediately. 

“What about ants?”

Tubbo stopped listening to the debate, mind turning over what had happened just before the distraction. He unconsciously raised one hand, brushing over the spot that still tingled on his cheek. There were still some grains of sugar there, so Ranboo had been telling the truth. 

It sounds more like a pet name. 

Having troubles with your own drink of water?

(hands on his face gentle where others were harsh)

Tubbo shook his head, trying to banish the lingering sensation of fingers on his wings and back. 

( The smell of oranges his racing heart ranboo leading him into the trees green and red eyes on him )

Tubbo shook his head harder, this time to banish the thoughts.

“Tubs, have you been eating raw eggs again?” Tommy asked. “You look goofy.” 

“Piss off,” Tubbo replied. 

“Okay, be salty, whatever.” Tommy shrugged and turned away.

Tubbo let out a breath in an effort to steady himself, refocusing on his snickerdoodles. 

Unfortunately, Ranboo seemed intent on keeping him distracted. 

“Do you- do you think your dad would let you come over?”

Tubbo blinked, head jerking up. 

“Huh?”

“Do you want to come over to my place?” Ranboo asked again. “If- if your dad’s gone, I think you said- you said it’s better than being bored.” He poked a raw snickerdoodle a little farther from its neighbors. 

“I might be able to…” Tubbo frowned. “But I made a promise. To stay around someone ‘responsible’.”

Ranboo’s fingers twitched, as though he wanted to wring his hands. Damn, his fingers were a lot longer than Tubbo’s own, ending with dulled claws instead of fingernails. 

Tubbo blinked several times and pulled his attention away when Ranboo spoke.

“I guess I might qualify…. I live by myself, and all, and I take care of all that.”

“Except, y’know, yourself,” Tubbo poked fun. He was rewarded with Ranboo’s pouty little scowl, ears flicking back. 

“I thought we were done with that!”

“Despite your long legs and apartment, I might be the bigger man,” Tubbo said, adjusting an imaginary tie. “You, Boo boy, are a dork. I bet without me around, you’d simply wither away without someone to make you eat.”

Ranboo considered that for a second.

“But I made you eat when you were sick,” he replied, “so you’re also a dork.”

Tubbo spluttered.

“How? I am- I am incredibly cool, and even if I could lie, just- just ask Tommy!”

“Nope, you’re a little bitch bee boy,” Tommy said, cracking an egg into his bowl.

Tubbo scowled. 

“Traitor.”

“Dork,” Ranboo poked back.

“I- how am I a dork?”

“You got jealous because you were getting less attention than a cat.”

“Uh, no, I got jealous because it was the cat giving you attention.”

“How’s that different?”

Tubbo hesitated, then waved one hand.

“Whatever, moving on.” 

Ranboo tittered, sliding a filled tray into the oven, then straightened and looked around.

“Where’s the timer?”

“Next to the sugar, bossman,” Tubbo replied with a nod to the little lump of plastic. 

“Thanks.” Ranboo scooped it up, clicking on beat as he set the timer and eventually returning it to the spot next to the bucket of sugar. “So… can you come over?”

Tubbo gave him a flat glance.

“How is it you forgot the damn timer sitting next to your fucking elbow but remember something you asked me like ten minutes ago?”

“If I could choose what I forgot, it wouldn’t be the timer,” Ranboo said. “So?”

Tubbo sighed, and mentally debated the possibilities. Go home, kick around by himself for hours and/or risk getting snapped at by his dad, or go to Ranboo’s, where at least he’d have someone to talk to and a hint, a potential of feeling like he had yesterday at the park.

For all he blustered, it wasn’t much of a contest. 

“If I can,” Tubbo said, “then I’ll go with you.” 

Ranboo’s eyes lit up, part of Tubbo fluttering at the sight.

“Great! We could watch a movie, or play a game, or just, uh, just hang out, until you have to- or want to leave, I won’t kick you out, you can stay as long as you want-”

“Excuse me,” Tommy said, “Hate to interrupt your boring little date planning, but we have a bakery to run and the snacks won’t bake themselves.” 

“Excu-u-u-u-use me!” Tubbo practically shouted back, wings vibrating, “But we just finished the snickerdoodles! Ranboo, what’s next on the list?”

“Wh- h- oh! Uh!” Ranboo popped out of reality and back into it next to the desk, leaning down to scan the list. “Chocolate chip cookies, banana bread, and cinnamon rolls.”

Cinnamon rolls took the longest to finish, needing to cool and be frosted, so Tubbo picked that and Ranboo crossed it off. 

“See, Tommy?” Tubbo jabbed, commandeering a stool to grab an empty bowl and setting it down next to the bag of flour. “We’re working.”

Tommy sniffed haughtily. 

“Without messing around?”

“Tomathy Innit, all you do is mess around.” 

“I do not! I’m a big man that does his job properly and efficiently!” Tommy promptly slipped on what was probably flour, letting out a startled chirp-yelp that summoned Wilbur from the void to hover over him. 

“You hurt?”

“No.”

“Then get up, gremlin.” Wilbur helped Tommy to his feet, brushing off some of the flour before being swatted. “This is why we have to sweep so often, it gets slick.”

Tommy muttered something probably violent, brushing off his pants and fluffing his wings to shake off whatever wheat-based powder they’d accumulated in the last minute.

“Anyway, this being entirely on purpose, I’d obviously love to join you two in your little party, but my mom needs me for the yardwork, so you’ll have to live without me somehow.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do with all the time I’m not spending getting feathers out of every single item of clothing I’m wearing,” Tubbo deadpanned. 

“Well, you’ll be lucky then, cause it’s not my fault I have to deal with it,” Tommy snapped back. 

“Phil said it is,” Tubbo said. Tommy huffed, wings fluffing up again. 

“Phil doesn’t know shit!”

“He does,” Tubbo said. “He’s an avian that’s older than you and raised another avian.”

“He doesn’t know shit about me, then!” Tommy flared his wings out completely, probably smacking Wilbur in the face. “I’m the biggest man alive and I'm completely unknowable!”

“Put the wings away before you contaminate the food,” Niki said, coming from the front to restock. 

“I won’t!” Tommy replied loudly, folding his wings back in anyway with a ruffle of indignation. “I haven’t lost any feathers all day, I’ll have you know, so ha.”

“It’s eleven in the morning,” Tubbo said, turning back to his bowl to measure out flour. “You still can’t fly for shit.”

“I can too!”

“Also, Ranboo, there’s an errand I have for you,” Niki said. 

Tubbo glanced up, oddly annoyed. 

“You always run the errands.”

“Yeah, well, the last few times I’ve done that, someone either gets in the middle of a gang fight or arrested, and I’ve had entirely enough early closings for one week.” Niki gestured at Wilbur. “You, take over for Ranboo. Ranboo, there’s a delivery that was due today, I need you to pick it up at the address I sent.” 

Ranboo nodded, going to hang up his apron.

“Wilbur, can you start on the frosting while I’m gone?”

“Sure.”

Ranboo brushed some stray flour off his shirt, completely oblivious to the way Tubbo’s stomach was sinking.

“See you in a few.”

“Bye,” Tubbo said quietly, and the door banged shut. 

“H-hey! Give that back! Niki! Wil just stole my sugar cookies!”

“He was eating them,” Wilbur said. 

“Was not! I was taste testing! There’s!” Tommy grabbed for the bowl Wilbur was holding. “A! Difference! Bald old man!”

“I’m not bald!” Wilbur spluttered, just tall enough that he could keep the desired dish out of Tommy’s reach.

“You will be if you don’t give my bowl back!”

“Tommy, I took it because you’re not supposed to eat raw dough!” Wilbur, funnily enough, looked more amused than angry. “Remember what happened last time? You were tripping balls all day, throwing up, barely able to walk-”

“It was all practical!” Tommy claimed, still trying to grab the bowl. “I knew everything I was doing!”

“Like when you called Phil ‘dad’?”

Tubbo froze, head jerking up. Tommy’s expression had frozen too, somewhere between anger and terror.

“It wasn’t like that,” Tommy snapped at Wilbur, wings pulling into his back despite the defensive tone of his voice. “I- I was half-asleep, and I thought- it doesn’t matter! It was nothing!”

“Like I said,” Wilbur practically drawled. “Delirious.”

“You’re delirious,” Tommy muttered, finally grabbing his bowl and holding it to his chest.

“Very mature,” Wilbur said, but didn’t take the bowl back.

“Is that all he said?” Tubbo asked, barely thinking of the words or Tommy’s dirty look in his eagerness for a distraction. Distraction from what? “It’s not very ‘Tommy’ to just say one stupid thing.”

“Oh, there were other things too.” Wilbur grinned, pouring powdered sugar into the bowl he’d tried to pawn off on Tommy. “General clinginess, said me and Tech would track mud on the floor, thought he was dying at one point. That last bit only seems funny now, though.”

“Shut up!” Tommy barked, head jerked away so the redness would be at least partially hidden.

“And,” Wilbur continued, “he chirps in his sleep, like a baby bird. Isn’t that adorable?”

“Shut up!” Tommy shoved Wilbur away, the latter simply snickering. “I’m literally right here and I’m going to throw you in the dumpster!”

“He’s been doing that for years,” Tubbo said with a nod. “And then he gets even clingier if you try to move him.”

“And if you leave him alone for longer than three seconds he gets panicky,” Wilbur said with amusement, though fondness entered his expression when Tommy wasn’t looking. “Poor little nestling, afraid of the world!”

“I was sick!” Tommy shouted, thwacking Wilbur with his wing. “Stop acting like I do it all the time!”

“You’ve done it even when you aren’t sick,” Wilbur pointed out.

“Yeah? Like when?”

“Like yesterday,” Wilbur deadpanned. “Remember? When you fell asleep literally on me?”

“I was asleep! Again, doesn’t count!” Tommy angrily folded his arms.

“Anyway,” Wilbur said, “this is fun, but we still need to get everything in the oven before lunch.”

“Free for now,” Tubbo teased, Tommy sticking his tongue out in reply. “You’re off the hook for gossip.”

“You say that as though you won’t start a chat to spread lies.”

“I don’t need to start a chat, my dad already has one with your mom.” Tubbo thought for a moment. “Wilbur, if you asked nicely, you and Phil could probably get on it too.”

Tommy made a strangled protesting sound, but turned back to his work. Niki, who’d reappeared, shook her head a little and sighed. 

“Wil, you take the cash register. I’ll handle things back here.”

“That’s fair,” Wilbur said, and ruffled Tommy’s hair before leaving.

Tubbo, for some odd reason, felt a prickle of odd nausea work its way through him. Why, he wondered.

Because Tommy has people that care about him, that almost-nausea whispered back to him, bitter and sour in envy. This was jealousy. Tommy has his mom, has Phil and Wilbur and even Techno. And you have Tommy. 

And Ranboo, Tubbo thought, and was startled at how his gut twisted. Ranboo. Thinking about him, now, made Tubbo feel achey and cold and empty. 

Tubbo bit back a choked sound. 

He missed Ranboo? That was where this was coming from? Plain old regular stupid pathetic loneliness? 

Tubbo wanted to both laugh hysterically and scream. 

And I thought Tommy was clingy. Here I am, sulking whenever Ranboo leaves.

A timer went off and Niki went to fetch the now-baked snickerdoodles.

“Tommy, will you get some boxes for these?”

“Uhuh. How many?”

Tubbo let his mind wander, both so he wouldn’t dwell on Things and so he could avoid being bored. He occasionally replied to Tommy, but found his thoughts floating blissfully into a fog.

—————

Ranboo appeared in a kitchen corner, two boxes awkwardly stacked in his arms and his legs tangled in a broom. Niki’s head whipped around as the violet particles dispersed into the air, and her arms folded.

“Ranboo, remember how we have a door?”

“Sorry,” Ranboo said meekly, ears flicking down. “I couldn’t get the handle and I didn’t want to make more than one trip.” He managed to heave one of the boxes onto a free counter space, lugging the other into the storage room/break room. 

“Mm. Alright then.” Niki fished a pocketknife out of her skirt pocket (Tubbo couldn’t breathe his back burned he was screaming) and even after Tubbo looked away (biting his tongue so hard he could taste iron) the slippery-screeching noise signified that she had broken the tape of the box. “But try to be more careful, I was about to move a stool over there and that wouldn’t be good to teleport into. Alright, Tubbo?”

Tubbo flinched, looking up and keeping his eyes firmly on Niki’s face.

“Yeah?”

“Can you cross off some things on the shopping list?”

Tubbo nodded, relief melting through his bones, and grabbed a random pen to do some employer-condoned-graffiti.

“We just got strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries,” Niki said. “Thank you both- oh, and Ranboo, help Tubbo with the cinnamon rolls.” 

“Okay.” Ranboo was tying his apron when he stood next to Tubbo, tail swishing and occasionally brushing against Tubbo’s legs. “What do we need to do?”

“Hm? Oh, um.” Tubbo shook his head, trying to focus. A tray of cinnamon rolls was in front of him - when had they gotten there? There was also a bowl of frosting, and when Tubbo thought about feeling sticky liquid on his hands between his fingers drying on his skin he shuddered on the inside. “You- you can frost, I guess, and- and I’ll put them in the boxes.”

“Trying to get out of doing the frosting?” Ranboo lightly teased, unaware of the way Tubbo felt like he was going to peel out of his own flesh.

“Hey, when I frost things they look like they’re melting,” Tubbo said, only partially sure he sounded normal. He went and grabbed a spatula, not willing to deal with any kind of knife as he isolated one of the cinnamon rolls somehow already-frosted and plopped it into a box. “Who am I to overshadow your pro frosting skills?”

“As long as it tastes good? I don’t think anyone will mind.” Ranboo lightly bumped Tubbo with his hip, grinning all the while. “You’re just trying to get out of doing it.”

“Maybe I am,” Tubbo said airily, closing the box and shifting it to the rack. “But I have entirely valid reasons for not doing it.”

“Oh, sure.” Ranboo actually started to frost, good for him, getting a rubber thingy to spread the icing on the cinnamon rolls. “Sure you do.”

“Bitch, you know I can’t lie,” Tubbo said. Ranboo looked up to grin at him, pushing some loose hair away and streaking creamy white frosting across his forehead. That made Tubbo genuinely smile and laugh, bumping his own hip into Ranboo. “Bossman, you’ve got a bit of a problem there.”

“Hm?” Ranboo glanced to his hand, seeing the obviously-smeared frosting, and sighed. “Oh. Better wash that off before I get hyperglycemia.”

“And burn yourself in the process? Nah, c’mere.” Tubbo grabbed Ranboo’s apron pocket, pulling him closer.

“Oh, I see, you’re taking the opportunity for revenge.” Ranboo tried to duck away but Tubbo foiled his plan by holding on tighter. “I did the same thing to you and now you want to get even.”

“Don’t be silly,” Tubbo said, holding Ranboo's chin in one hand so he could rub the frosting off with the other without too much wriggling. “Maybe I’m just being friendly and helpful.”

Ranboo made a disgruntled noise, ears pinned and eyes narrowed. 

“Poor angry meow meow,” Tubbo cooed at Ranboo, patting him on the head before letting go. “Doesn’t like people helping him.” 

“I- I am-” Ranboo shot to his full height - having been crouched before - with his tail lashing behind him. “Did you just compare me to a cat? Why?”

“Because you’re acting like one,” Tubbo said with a grin. Ranboo huffed, rubbing at his forehead to dislodge the last remaining flakes of dried icing. 

“Am not.”

“I bet you purr, too,” Tubbo continued, turning back to the cinnamon rolls.

“I- how would- how would you know?” Ranboo spluttered, nearly tipping over the bowl of frosting. “I do not!”

“Forgive me for not having complete faith in you when I know you forgot your own name once,” Tubbo said with dry amusement, watching from the corner of his eye as Ranboo went back to frosting the cinnamon rolls. Tubbo’s mind kept turning, and a thought produced by that train wreck made him curious. “Do you ever, like, forget your relationships with people?”

Ranboo stilled, expression somewhere in the odd place between fear and grief. 

“U-um, I-” He swallowed, hand twitching to his arm for a moment. “S-sometimes. Yeah. Usually- usually I can remember who they are when I see them, and the more I’m around a person the less likely I am to forget.” He paused for a moment, then added as if in example- “The first week or so you and Tommy were working here, Wilbur or Niki had to keep reminding me who you were so I didn’t freak out.” Ranboo then continued more hastily, “But that’s mostly stopped now, I haven’t forgotten about you super recently.”

“Huh. That’s…. Good to know.” Tubbo thought for a bit, now being able to re-contextualize all the times he or Tommy had startled Ranboo in the first week, all the times Ranboo had ignored him or been pulled aside for a conversation or looked uncomfortable whenever Tubbo tried to make conversation.

Right now, Ranboo looked more than a little uncomfortable. He was scratching at his arm again, the skin getting pink and irritated.

“I’m sorry,” Tubbo said as soon as he realized, “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“I know,” Ranboo replied quietly. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

Still, Tubbo took hold of Ranboo’s wrist, pulling his hand closer. 

“It’s okay, bossman, you can calm down.” Unconsciously, he spread his fingertips over Ranboo’s skin, across the more-delicate skin on the inside of the forearm. “You’re about ready to peel, and if I’m- if I’m doing something to upset you, you can tell me, right?”

“I know,” Ranboo whispered. After a long, silent moment, he pulled away and tugged his sleeve down to hide the streaks of red on his arm. “We, uh, we should get back to work. We’re getting distracted again.”

“Oh. Okay.” Tubbo was a distraction? Ranboo was the one being distracted! He was the one with the endearing bickering, and his flustered expression, and that little laugh he seemed to be trying to hide-

Tubbo realized where this train of thought was taking him with a flinch of his wings and antennae, and studiously buried himself in work before his mind strayed any farther.

Chapter Text

Tubbo, standing outside the bakery with a wave to Niki as she locked the back door, dug out his phone when he got a text.

Dad: hey bug

Dad: I won’t be able to pick you up today, I’m out of town w/ Q on business. 

Dad: Mrs. Innit can drive you home, there should be pizza in the freezer

Tubbo sighed, but typed out a reply.

Bee: okay

Bee: when ru getting back?

Dad: about a week, but Q will get back sooner to look after you. Love you.

Bee: love you too

Tubbo sighed again, and put his phone away. 

“Was that your dad?” Ranboo asked, standing few steps away with his fingers drumming against the strap of a messenger bag looped around his shoulder. “Did he say you could come over?”

“No,” Tubbo bit out. “He said he’s going to be gone for a week.” he shrugged. “But that means he won’t notice me being gone, he never checks my location when he’s out of the city.”

“Hey, here’s my mom.” Tommy smacked Tubbo in the shoulder. “See you tomorrow, alright?”

“See you, big man,” Tubbo replied, and watched as Tommy clambered into the passenger seat of his mom’s car.

“Um… should we go, then?” Ranboo asked after a minute.

“I don’t have anything better to do.” Tubbo swiveled on one foot, nearly colliding with Ranboo as an unfortunate roadblock appeared in the form of a dresser perched at the edge of the sidewalk. 

They walked in silence for as much time as it took for Tubbo to get antsy.

“So, uh, how’s Enderchest?” he asked, that being the first conversation starter that made it out of his mouth. 

“Doing good,” Ranboo said, though he gave Tubbo a rather mischievous grin. “She tried to bite me yesterday.”

Tubbo snorted.

“Guess she is a wild animal.”

“Or maybe she misses you.” Ranboo shrugged, stepping off the curb. “You’re the first person she’s met other than me, and she seemed to like you. Maybe you’d like her too if you were around her more.”

“Maybe.” Tubbo barely reached the other side of the road before the light turned, wrinkling his nose at a mud-caked truck that roared by belching exhaust. “Most people think less of me when they’re around more.” He buzzed his wings to blow away the lingering black smoke, and felt Ranboo’s tail brush against his legs. 

“I don’t.”

Tubbo glanced over at him, stomach twisting at Ranboo’s small smile, and looked down with a breath. 

“You’re not most people.”

They walked in silence until reaching the apartment, Ranboo breaking said silence with a mumble about cleaning as he unlocked the door.

Tubbo, waiting and listening to the rustle of Ranboo moving about, stood in the entryway and looked around. He didn’t remember most of it, seeing as he’d been sick, so it felt almost like the first time as he took in the landscape paintings of what must have been the End, the sticky notes plastered in high-traffic areas at an eyeline much taller than Tubbo’s own. 

Tubbo lightly kicked his shoes into the rack next to the door, noting how Ranboo’s three pairs only took up half of the given storage. That kind of emptiness carried to other places, too, like the coatrack with only a few hooks hidden. 

The space felt like it needed more than Ranboo to exist there. To Tubbo, it felt like there was a vacuum, a void where someone else should be. Did Ranboo really enjoy this? Enjoy a life of being alone?

Tubbo blinked, and frowned at his own weird and irrational thinking. 

“You can come in now!” Ranboo said from the other room. He was wringing his hands when Tubbo entered, laughing nervously. “I wasn’t thinking of the mess when I invited you.” 

“You’re fine,” Tubbo reassured him. “I’m pretty sure Tommy knows the color of my socks better than my floorboards.

Ranboo laughed, this time without awkwardness, and joined Tubbo on the couch. There was an ottoman that Tubbo briefly considered, but it was clearly pushed to Ranboo’s length so Tubbo merely kicked at it, shifting the folds of white fabric peeking from the crack of the storage area inside.

“What kind of hospitality is this?” Tubbo joked, seeing Ranboo roll his eyes and kneel to stuff all the fabric back inside the ottoman.

“I’m letting you decide- movie, game, just talk….”

“Movie sounds good.” Tubbo idly drummed his fingers on his knees. “Is there something particular you want to watch?”

Ranboo shrugged a little, finding the tv remote under the couch and curling up on the opposite end of the cushions.

“I mean, there was a movie I thought looked interesting, but I’d you’d rather see something else it’s fine.” There was a fleecy blanket previously folded over the back of the couch, Ranboo pulling it off and cocooning himself in it.

“I’m fine with whatever you want,” Tubbo said. He shifted where he lay, stretching out and nearly brushing against Ranboo. “Let’s get this party started.”

Ranboo huffed on a small laugh but turned on the tv, finding the movie and pressing ‘play’ so the opening credits began to roll. 

Some time later, the AC finally kicked in, making the room’s temperature drop to what felt like freezing. Tubbo gave the nearest air vent a disgruntled glance, pulling a thinner blanket over him. 

“Sorry about the cold,” Ranboo said under the movie’s dialogue. “I like it cooler, and I didn’t think-”

“You’re fine,” Tubbo said, sitting up before he ended up totally laying down. “But, I, uh- I get kind of weird when I’m cold, so- so I might end up trying to use you as a space heater.” Already, he felt sleepy, thoughts sticky. He really wanted to curl into Ranboo’s side, get close to conserve heat. He also wanted to keep whatever self-respect he still had. 

“It’s fine,” Ranboo said. “I’m- I’m technically cold-blooded, so I- I get that. If you want, uh…” he trailed off, but one arm moved out so his blanket was held open in a silent invitation that the stupid arthropod part of Tubbo’s brain wanted to jump at. 

“Maybe,” Tubbo said, clearing his throat when his voice caught strangely. “M-maybe.”

He forced himself to refocus on the tv to avoid giving in to the temptation, watching the shift of glowing plants blown in a cinematic wind with increasingly-heavy eyes. God, he was tired. He pulled the blanket closer around him, feeling goosebumps creep across his neck and back. His wings were starting to twitch already, buzzing in an effort to generate heat.

“I- I’m not a huge fan of the cold,” Tubbo said after a moment, trying to muster a laugh. “Bees, am I right?”

“You’re shivering,” Ranboo said, and the fleece of his blanket draped over Tubbo’s wings and back. Tubbo clenched his teeth to stop them from chattering, feeling Ranboo’s shoulder bump against his own. “I can go turn down the AC if that will make you feel better.”

The blanket was warm. Tubbo automatically nestled into it, pulling the fleece closer around him. 

“You don’t- you don’t need to worry about it,” he said nonetheless, wishing he could feel his fingers better. The blanket smelled like mint and oranges. Like Ranboo.

“Can’t I worry?” Ranboo asked.

“You’ve got enough to worry about already,” Tubbo replied with a soft laugh, but in his addled brain couldn’t help leaning into Ranboo’s side, snowflakes prickling against his ribs and arm. He wanted to sink closer, but managed to stop himself this time. “Let’s- let’s just watch the movie, alright?”

They sat in silence and watched. This took some time, in which an increasingly lethargic Tubbo compared Ranboo to the characters on screen - even if he wasn’t blue - and tried to avoid passing the fuck out. Last time he’d done that because of the cold, Tommy had to haul him into bed and pile blankets on him until he woke up two hours later.

About two-thirds of the way through the movie, Tubbo’s gaze shifted over to Ranboo instead of the tv. The arm closest to Tubbo, the one laying atop the blanket cocoon, was the one that Ranboo had been scratching.

Tubbo, seemingly possessed by something, hooked a finger into Ranboo’s sleeve and pulled it up to expose the not-yet-faded redness.

“What are you doing?” Ranboo asked softly. The skin on his arm was warm, warmer than normal as Tubbo idly traced one of the scratch marks.

“What are you?”

Ranboo made a small, nervous sound when Tubbo spread his fingertips out over raw skin.

“Trying to watch a movie. Wh- why?”

Tubbo absently turned Ranboo’s arm over so his palm was facing the ceiling, brushing a thumb over the marks on his forearm.

“I’m not super confident that this is a good thing to be doing,” Tubbo said quietly.  

“I- I know. You’re right.” Ranboo sounded… defeated. “I- I don’t know why I’m doing it.” His free hand twitched towards his arm, but Tubbo intercepted it, blinking tiredly. 

“Nuh-uh, Boo, no scratching. What’s bothering you?”

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo said, voice very small.

“‘Bout what?” Tubbo spared a glance up at the tv, which was showing a group of helicopters flying over a giant forest. He didn’t let go of Ranboo.

“That- that I’m making you worry about me.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Tubbo slung Ranboo’s arm over his shoulder to keep it farther away, trying to not melt entirely into Ranboo’s side. “I’ll worry about you all by my damn self.”

“I-I-I, u-um, are- are you- are you okay? With this?” Ranboo was stiff, the wrist Tubbo had captured pounding with a heartbeat.

Some invisible leash on Tubbo’s impulses slipped free and he sank closer, head falling lightly against Ranboo’s neck. 

“You’re warm,” Tubbo murmured despite himself, not shivering even with the snowflakes wrapping around him. “And if I had a problem with it, would I really be here?”

Ranboo looked down, and Tubbo gave him a slow, probably rather dazed smile.

Ranboo’s expression flickered, but he softened after a moment, bringing the smell of mint when his head tilted to rest against Tubbo’s.

“That’s- that’s alright, then.”

“Sure thing,” Tubbo agreed. He paused, and through his syrupy thoughts became aware of the soft, deep rumbling against his back and skull. He huffed in amusement, patting the arm that was slung across his shoulders. “You do purr, I was right.”

“Oh god,” Ranboo muttered, and shifted slightly so Tubbo’s wings weren’t trapped. “Do you remember what’s going on? In the movie?”

Tubbo cracked one eye open. There were two figures onscreen, standing in a forest where the leaves were soft pink ribbons of light, and as they spoke they got closer and closer together.

“Beats me,” Tubbo said finally, and twisted so his shoulder wasn’t digging into Ranboo’s ribcage. “I don’t really care anymore.”

As he began to warm up, his wings slowed in their shivering. That just made him more aware of Ranboo’s almost-purr, which felt like it was making his bones vibrate. Tubbo didn’t mind, though, the jittering would help him warm up, so he nestled against the source of the rumbling at the base of Ranboo’s throat. 

“Poor meow meow,” Tubbo mumbled. 

“Am not.” Ranboo’s fingers curled around his hand, long and thin and warm. “Maybe it’s ‘poor buzzy- uh- bizzy-buzz’, since you almost went into torpor just while sitting here.”

Tubbo snorted, antennae twitching with the motion and when they accidentally collided with Ranboo’s ears.

“I wasn’t expecting it to be cold in the summer, bossman.” Tubbo was either getting braver or more idiotic, nuzzling into the warmth of Ranboo. It burned against his skin, sparkles of electricity sinking into his nerves. This was the most physical contact he’d had in… a while.

It was nice. Really nice.

After some time, the soft purring faded away, and where Tubbo’s head lay he could hear the beat of a nervous heart.

“Something wrong?” he asked groggily, eyes long-closed.

“No,” Ranboo replied, voice soft. “Everything’s fine.” The arm that had been over Tubbo’s shoulders slid down, hand dropping to the bare skin between his wings. 

Tubbo jolted immediately, startled out of his sleepy haze.

“Jesus- your fingers are cold!” he complained, squirming away.

“You just said I was warm- ow!” Ranboo winced, giving Tubbo a hurt look. “You just kneed me in the guts.”

Tubbo sniffed.

“Guess you shouldn’t put your cold-ass fingers on my back, then, that was under the blanket!”

Then, when he realized what he was doing (how he was wrapped around Ranboo), Tubbo froze.

We’re supposed to be watching a movie. What is this? This wasn’t in the plan (it’s warm it’s so warm when was the last time you were warm and it didn’t hurt). 

“Tubbo?” Ranboo asked, concerned and gentle so gentle. “You good?”

Tubbo scrambled away, still tangled in the blankets as he retreated to his corner of the couch.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have-” What were you thinking? What were you thinking? (Ranboo’s gentle he doesn’t burn) “I should’ve- I should’ve asked or something, I’m- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-” 

Was that why Ranboo was getting nervous? He wanted you to get away, wanted you to stay away, but was too nice to say anything?

Tubbo was so stupid, not stopping to think for even a second.

“Tubbo, hey- hey, calm down.” Ranboo had his hands out, sitting up as the sounds of a battle crashed and pounded around them. “Just- just calm down, alright?”

Outstretched hands grabbing pulling hurting burning -

Tubbo’s wings buzzed as he curled into a knot, still backing away ( missing the warmth ) from Ranboo. Why did he think this was okay? He didn’t even ask, just swooped in- he probably made Ranboo upset, was making Ranboo upset, and why didn’t he realize why couldn’t he realize did Ranboo hate him now-

“I don’t- I’m- Everything’s fine,” Tubbo forced out, ripping off the blanket that was tangled around him. “I- I just- we can’t-” he tried to keep breathing, swiping an arm over his eyes. “I’m- I’m sorry, we can’t do this.”

He already shouldn’t be here. What if his dad found out? What would Schlatt do?

Tubbo shuddered at the thought. 

He had to do this. It would be better for both of them.

Ranboo had pulled away slightly, and after a moment he turned away, shoulders curled and arms wrapped around his knees.

“I don’t- I- u-um, okay- okay, what- whatever you- whatever you want.” 

Tubbo’s almost reached out, almost reassured Ranboo that it wasn’t his fault, but there were emotions curling inside Tubbo’s stomach and his hand dropped. 

His insides felt like they were tying themselves in knots as he looked back to the tv, forcing himself to watch. It was cold, and his wings buzzed, but Tubbo knew he couldn’t allow for a repeat of what had just happened.

They finished the movie in silence, the space between them as empty and sickening as the drop off a cliff.

—————

“Tommy, no.”

“Tommy, yes.”

“Tommy, no!”

“Tommy yep!”

“Tommy!"

“Wil, it’s not that dangerous.” Tommy almost dropped the ladder, but saved it last minute and readjusted his phone so it was still against his ear. 

“ -til someone can be there.”

“I don’t need someone here,” Tommy insisted. “I wasn’t calling for help, I was calling to tell you why I might not be at work tomorrow.”

“Tommy…” Wilbur sighed, the sound audible through the phone. “I’m guessing you’re home alone.” 

“My mom went shopping,” Tommy offered by way of explanation, setting his ladder against the roof. That was stable enough, right?

“Can you at least wait until she gets there?”

“Nope,” Tommy said, “She’ll just get mad I was fucking about.”

“Tommy, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove or why you’re doing this now, but please, wait. I’ll be coming over soon.”

Wilbur honestly sounded… kind of panicky. Tommy wasn’t sure how he felt about it- wasn’t sure whether his stomach was sinking or his heart was floating up in his chest. What was he supposed to say? That Tubbo’s words, six fucking words, had needled at Tommy for the rest of the afternoon until he’d made up his mind to do it, to prove that he could fly, that he wasn’t totally useless as an avian. 

“Tommy? Tommy-"

“I’m still here,” Tommy said flatly. “And I would rather you not stalk me.”

“It’s not stalking,” Wilbur replied, “you gave me your address when you applied for this job.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to use that to show up randomly at someone’s house.”

“I’m pretty sure keeping you from jumping off your roof takes precedence!”

“Anyway, I’ve got places to be,” Tommy said, “If I’m not at work for the next three days to week it’s ‘cause I’m in the hospital from an epic landing, and I better hang up so I don’t drop my phone and break it. Bye!”

“Tommy, don-"

Tommy hung up and tucked his phone carefully into one pocket, then scrambled up the ladder and kicked it away from the roof accidentally-on-purpose so he wouldn’t back out.

He glanced over the edge of the gutter. Nope, not high enough. Luckily, there was a garret outside his mom’s window, so it was short work to clamber up that and find himself at the very top of two stories. 

“Okay,” Tommy said, trying to pump himself up as he turned for the backyard instead of the front (he didn’t want to risk the driveway), but it got a little difficult when he was all the way up here and the ground was all the way down there. “Okay, uh…. Fuck. Fuck, wait, that’s high. No, shut up, you’re a bird and birds love heights. Plus, you’ve practiced falling, you’ll be alright.”

That was when you were five, a tiny part of his brain said. Off the kitchen table. 

Tommy inched towards the edge of the roof, technically standing but more than a little crouched down. Okay, sure, he hadn’t exactly found a lot of research on flight for avians with elliptical wings (stupid cardinals), but wings are all practically the same anyway! He’d be fine!

Tommy was too focused on his breathing and his stance - wings slightly outspread, both in anticipation and so he’d catch the air easier - to notice the rumble of a car pulling into his driveway. Instead, he took in a last breath, spread his wings, and jumped. 

And he was flying! 

Sort of. It became almost immediately obvious that something was wrong- Tommy could feel it. The flow of air across his feathers was uneven, the strain of gliding made his muscles hurt, and as soon as he started to fall he fluttered on instinct, which unbalanced him even farther and made his heart jump into his throat. 

Tommy closed his eyes, immediately making the Top 5 Stupidest Things Tommy’s Done, and tried to stay up even though his stupid wings wouldn’t glide and flapping was useless and time felt incredibly slow but he was going to hit the ground any moment he knew it shit shit shit shit shit shit shit he gave up on flying and tucked his limbs in, ready for the crash-landing, but-

There was a tremendous rush of air around him, the familiar -albeit much slower- sound of wings beating as he stopped, and Tommy opened his eyes to feet dangling above the ground and a tightness in his middle. 

He hadn’t fallen! He was flying! 

Tommy chirped unconsciously, wings fluttering in excitement, then realized half a moment later as someone chuckled and the arms around him shifted. 

Oh. 

What?

Tommy craned his neck around, trying to see who-

Phil. It was Phil, wings gleaming and stirring the air as they beat to keep two avians upright instead of just one.

“How’d-” Tommy started to ask, but his voice was a little too chirpy and he cleared his throat. “How’d you get here?” 

“Wilbur called,” Phil said. “We’d just pulled up when you jumped.”

Right. Tommy slumped, wings drooping.

“Hey, don’t get too floppy, I might drop you.” Phil somehow managed to rearrange his hold on Tommy so they were mirroring each other, Tommy’s wings still spread. “Ready to get back down?”

“I guess,” Tommy mumbled. This felt safer, being able to tuck his head against someone -not that he’d do that, nope nope nope- and keep the wind out of his eyes, but instead he glanced down. Phil had halted his spiral of doom somewhere above the shrubs in the backyard, high enough up that the leaves were little more than a single blob of green. 

For all Tommy’s trying, this was how far he’d managed to get from the earth. He was still close enough for everything to grab him, for the dream team, for the Syndicate, for all of the shadows in the back of his mind. 

Tommy sighed. 

“You probably shouldn’t try that again,” Phil said absently, tilting them away from the bushes and above the grass for a softer place to land. “You don’t seem like much of a glider, mate, and being higher up might just get you hurt.” 

Tommy’s feet hit the ground and he stayed standing, wings folding in even as Phil stumbled a little and then arranged his own wings.

“Just wanted to try,” Tommy mumbled. 

“I get that. You better stretch, or you’ll be sore as fuck.”

“Will not,” Tommy snapped, but fluttered his wings anyway and extended them completely. He didn’t miss Phil’s glance over the feathers.

“When was the last time you flew, mate?”

“Just now,” Tommy said, an odd kind of euphoric adrenaline coursing through his nerves so he wanted to spin about and chirp, roll on the grass, maybe eat a bug, who fucking knew.

“You know what I mean,” Phil replied with mock annoyance.

The words made Tommy frown.

“I don’t know.”

“How do you-”

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Tommy folded his arms, snapping his wings against his back. “Haven’t since before my dad died, and my wings were too small then anyway.”  

“Oh.” Phil ruffled his wings once - Jesus, they were practically four times his size - and folded them back in. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever.” Tommy kicked at the ground, spinning in a circle as if to replicate the feeling of wind in his face. “I just need to practice and then I’ll be alright.”

“I’m not sure practice is the issue,” Phil said gently. “I watched you, and all that fluttering barely did anything.” 

Tommy scowled at him.

“Are you calling me pathetic? I bet you’d be pretty bad at flying too if you’d gone six years without-”

“Look at your wings, Toms.” Phil’s words quickly stopped Tommy’s argument. 

Tommy, annoyance pricking his skull, glanced at his wings just to get Phil off his back.

Oh. Yeah. 

His little baby flight had seemingly wrecked his wings, more feathers snapped off than Tommy could remember seeing at once and most of the whole ones raggedly un-aerodynamic, blank spots gaping like bullet holes in a wall.

“Just can’t go five minutes without bringing up my wings, huh?” Tommy asked bitterly. He kicked the ground again, toe of his shoe catching momentarily in the grass. “I get it, alright? My wings are useless pieces of shit.”

“Even if your wings were whole,” Phil said, “you shouldn’t be trying this kind of thing by yourself.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, heading towards the gate to the front yard. 

“Sure, mom. Like who?” Damn, the grass was long. Why hadn’t Tommy mowed? Oh, right, no gas to spare. 

“I have no clue,” Phil deadpanned. “And, look, you really scared Wilbur.”

“Not my fault he’s a twitchy fuck.” Tommy spun in another circle. 

“You scared me too.” 

Tommy paused, fingers wrapped around the gate handle. He didn’t like the feeling crawling in his stomach- the suspicion that he’d been bad, that he’d done something wrong,  that now Phil was disappointed.  

“You scared us,” Phil said, “when you called with no other explanation but that you were going to jump off your roof.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Tommy shot back, now defensive. “At least I told you.” 

“Yes, and I’m glad, but why were you going to jump off your roof in the first place?”

“Why not?”

“What if you got hurt?”

“I would deal with it.”

“And your mom? The people who care about you?” 

Tommy was feeling worse and worse. The realization of his mistake was growing, and as it did he wanted to shrink into a little ball.

“I would’ve thought of something,” he mumbled. 

“How do you explain getting hurt?”

“You break a few eggs to make an omelette,” Tommy said. 

“Except this isn’t an omelette, and the eggs could’ve been your bones.”

Tommy didn’t like that image.

“I’ve got it, okay?” He snapped. “Okay, I was stupid, I fucked up, I’m a flightless piece of shit that doesn’t care about my safety and I disappoint all of you all the time.” 

“I’m not disappointed,” Phil said. “And I’m not upset. I care about you, Tommy, that’s all. This isn’t going to make me change my mind.”

Tommy, taken-aback, looked over. Phil lightly cupped his cheek, and even though he wanted to flinch at first he just… stayed. And let it happen.

“You’re about as secretive as a safe made of glass,” Phil said, more warmly than anything. “You’re not hiding as much as you think you are.” 

Tommy was trying to keep it together, but it was just getting harder. He wanted to sink into the touch, wanted to sit and soak up the concept that someone other than his mom cared. Worried about him, got upset at the idea of him being hurt.

Something must’ve showed.

“Hey,” Phil said, “it’s okay, you’re alright. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Tommy, composure beginning to shatter, nodded but sniffled unconsciously and felt a wing circle his back. 

“I’m okay,” Tommy insisted with a strangled voice, “I’m- I’m okay, but I- I thought- I thought I’d be able to fly. But I couldn’t.” 

“Give it time,” Phil practically crooned, wings wrapped around Tommy, “it’s okay. I get that you wanted to fly, but you need some time and someone to be with you. You’re alright.”

Tommy nodded again, but couldn’t help burying his head against Phil’s shoulder. It was warm, if a little awkward from the height different, but he didn’t care.

“Are you gonna tell my mom?” Tommy asked weakly. 

“Do you want me to tell?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“She’d freak out. Would… would Wilbur freak out?”

“Don’t worry about him,” Phil said. “He might keep his eye on you at work for a bit, but he’s not mad.”

“Okay,” Tommy whispered. 

In the back of his hearing, a car door slammed and he stiffened.

“Shit, my mom-”

“It’s just Wilbur,” Phil soothed, smoothing Tommy’s unconsciously fluffed feathers. “You’re alright.” 

“Tommy? Phil, is everything-” The gate rattled open, and Wilbur’s voice got more distinct. “-okay? Tommy? Wait, wh- shit, you’re crying. Oh- oh, no, Toms it’s okay, are you hurt? Is he hurt? What happened?”

“He’s fine, Wil,” Phil said gently, to break up the rapid questions. “Tommy, you tell him.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy mumbled without looking up. “Phil caught me.” 

Phil carefully stepped away, and Tommy longed just for a moment, but just after that moment he was being wrapped up in Wilbur, who hadn’t wanted to overstep strained familial boundaries. 

Wilbur’s wings were clipped, but they curled against Tommy’s back anyway, not helping Tommy keep it together.

“‘M sorry, sorry for making you worry,” Tommy muttered quickly, trying to apologize before he broke down against Wilbur’s chest. 

“It’s fine, you’re fine, as long as you’re okay.” Wilbur sighed. “You really know how to make us worry.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” Tommy said, sounding awfully like a child.

“I know, I know.” Wilbur was smoothing Tommy’s hair, trying to soothe him. “I’m so glad you called, I don’t know what might’ve happened if no one else was around.”

Tommy could imagine it. Breaking a leg, a wing, not being able to move or reach help and just laying crumpled on the grass. Thinking about it made fearful chirps stutter out of his throat, quickly morphing into tears.

“Hey, shh, it’s alright, you’re okay.” Wilbur followed when Tommy’s legs gave out, both ending up knelt on the grass. “You’re safe.”

Tommy curled up, both into himself and into Wilbur. The contact, the extended contact, it was lighting up parts of his brain that were usually dormant, and it felt… nice. Warm. Comforting. He couldn’t help burying his hands in Wilbur’s feathers, somewhere between scratching and just resting there as Wilbur ran fingers through his own hair and wings, whispering and crooning, almost.

No, it was more of a chitter. It didn’t sound like Phil, but it was still… still comforting. Tommy warbled back, softly, nestling deeper into the arms around him. He could almost forget what had happened. Almost.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“Don’t be,” Wilbur replied. “You had people looking out for you, and nothing bad happened.”

“But you were worrying-”

“People worry when they care,” Wilbur said. “And we care. We care about you, and we don’t want you to be alone anymore.” 

Tommy merely sobbed, feeling a pair of unclipped wings wrap around him and Wilbur to block out the rest of the world.

He couldn’t be sure as to how long they stayed there, but eventually Tommy knew it needed to end. He pulled away, pretending he couldn’t hear both Wilbur and Phil make a soft sound, and rubbed at his eyes. 

“Sorry I made you come over,” he said roughly. “You can leave now if you want.” 

Phil and Wilbur exchanged a bit of a mixed glance.

“Do you want us to leave?” Wilbur asked. “How long is your mom going to be gone?”

Tommy shrugged. 

“Hour or two.” He pretended to be absorbed in scratching at one wing. “You don’t- you don’t have to leave. It’s boring being… being alone.”

“You can come back to my place,” Phil suggested. “I think it would be more suspicious for us two to be hanging out with you here.”

“Yeah. Fair.” Tommy tugged off the dangling half of a snapped feather. “Sure. I’ll go with you.” 

“Sweet.” Phil jumped to his feet, helping Tommy up. “Let’s get in the car then.”

Tommy followed, fingers itching, but paused upon seeing ‘the car’. Not Phil’s van, nope- a black sedan, front bumper dented under one headlight. 

“Wh-”

“Sorry, it’s not available,” Wilbur joked, opening the driver’s door. “I picked Phil up, so yes, this is mine.”

“Do you park it on the roof or something?” Tommy asked, getting in the back. 

“In Niki’s space,” Wilbur replied. “She doesn’t have a car, so she doesn’t need the parking space.”

“How’d Phil get to me so fast then?” Tommy buckled his seatbelt, taking in the car’s interior. Decently clean. 

“Jumped out while I was still driving up the road,” Wilbur said, starting the car.

“Wil-"

“What, do you want me to lie to a kid?”

“I’m not a kid!”

“Also, like, do you want me to drop you guys off?” Wilbur shifted in his seat, glancing back to check the road as he backed out. Phil looked at him for a moment, seeming confused.

“Why?”

“You don’t need my help looking after Tommy,” Wilbur said, voice flat. “You and Techno can handle him just fine, and since it’s not my house-”

“Of course you can stay,” Phil interjected, sounding… hurt. “Tommy called you, you’re the one who knew someone had to be there and the reason we weren’t too late.”

“And you,” Wilbur said, imbuing the word with what felt like every emotion that had ever existed at once, “are the avian who’s never had a properly avian kid to take care of.”

Both of them were very, very still (or, at least, as still as they could be while driving, in Wilbur’s case). If Tommy hadn’t been the first person to get in the car, he would’ve felt awkward witnessing something he knew nothing about. Well, he didn’t know the background or the memories. He knew that there was a very strained relationship between those two, and it probably had at least partly to do with Wilbur’s wings. But that was it.

“Wil,” Tommy said, shattering the silence like it was the window of a diner, “I want you there.”

Wilbur’s head twitched, a little, as though he wanted to turn around. 

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, voice getting a little softer. “I mean… Techno wouldn’t want to deal with bird stuff, right? And just having Phil there would feel like how it does just being at my house, with my mom.”

Phil glanced to Wilbur, whose expression wasn’t visible. 

“Tommy’s made his choice,” Phil said. “What’s yours?”

There was a rather long stretch of silence. Tommy wasn’t sure where Phil lived in the city, but he knew it was a ways away from the bakery and that was a ways away from Tommy’s house. So the drive probably wouldn’t end before this conversation.

“Okay,” Wilbur said finally. “Okay. I’ll- I’ll stay.” 

Phil seemed a little surprised, but mostly satisfied. Tommy looked out the window, chin propped on his hand. 

“What’s up with Techno anyway?” he asked after another stretch of silence. 

“He stayed behind,” Phil replied. “Said he wouldn’t be of much use and someone had to hold down the fort.”

“I think he didn’t want to be seen getting all emotional over Tommy,” Wilbur said. “You know how he gets.”

Phil sighed, half amused and half reminiscent. 

“Yep, I sure do.”

Tommy drummed a few fingers against his face, thoughtful in the kind of way that never ended well. 

“Do you think he’d notice if I pranked him?”

“Depends on what you did,” Wilbur said. 

“He’ll get pissy if you fuck with his books,” Phil added. “Or his jewelry.”

“Light his books on fire and string his jewelry on the stairwell railing, got it,” Tommy said. Phil snorted. 

“Maybe something less potentially dangerous.”

“Steal all his pens,” Wilbur suggested. “Leave only feathers behind.”

“He has at least one inkwell,” Phil said, shaking his head. “He’d probably just turn them into quills.”

“Nerd,” Wilbur sighed. “Great, I’m out of ideas.”

“I’m not,” Tommy piped up.

“No destroying shit,” Phil said. “Or doing something that’ll get the cops called.” 

Tommy idly drummed his fingers. 

“He’ll be relieved you’re alright,” Phil added, “So I doubt you could annoy him.”

Now there was a thought.

“What if we pretended I wasn’t?” Tommy suggested. Phil gave him a sideways glance. 

“That will distract him more than anything.”

“Does he still have all his stuff from when we were kids?” Wilbur asked, seemingly randomly.

“Yes… ” Phil thought for a moment. “In the closet, probably.”

“Sweet. Then Tommy can be the distraction, I’ll swap his new stuff for the old.” 

Tommy perked up. 

“Oh my god, does he have super embarrassing shit?”

“Depends on how you define ‘embarrassing’,” Phil replied wryly.

“Does he have shit that goes against his brand?”

“Yes,” Phil and Wilbur said in unison.

“You need to take pictures,” Tommy informed Wilbur. “Or I’ll cry.” 

“Crying will add legitimacy,” Wilbur replied, “So you should do it anyway.” 

Pretty soon, they pulled in and parked at the base of Phil’s building. 

“How broken should I be?” Tommy asked, drumming his hands on the seat.

“Few limbs,” Wilbur said. Phil gave him a disgruntled look.

“A few? That needs a hospital, mate.”

“Good plan,” Tommy practically chirped over him. “You should carry me too so it’s extra convincing.”

“Sounds like you just don’t want to walk.” Wilbur got out. “You can walk up until we’re in the hall, then I’ll carry you.”

Tommy sighed in dramatic disappointment, but followed him and Phil into the building. They passed a variety of people on the way to the elevator, but luckily got to be alone as they ascended.

“Okay,” Tommy decided, “I’ve got a hurt leg, wing, and arm.”

“Same side?”

“Sure. Let’s say…. Mm… the left side.”

“You better make noise if I jostle them,” Wilbur warned, “cause he’ll catch on otherwise.”

Tommy quickly determined his left from his right. 

“Okay, lights camera action,” Wilbur said as they approached the door, scooping Tommy up. 

“That’s my left, bitch,” Tommy grumbled, and squirmed out so Wilbur could hold him properly. 

“I take no responsibility for if he kills you,” Phil said, and opened the door. “Hey Tech, we’re back.”

“Did anything happen?” Techno asked, and promptly came into view when Tommy was carried in. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Clear off the couch,” Wilbur said, enough worry in his voice that Tommy would have giggled if he hadn’t been pretending to be pained and floppy and shit. “Kid had already jumped by the time we got there.”

“Not a kid,” Tommy grumbled, and whined when Wilbur surreptitiously prodded him. 

“He’s at least conscious,” Techno said when Tommy was set down, the latter purposefully tensing up and whining again when his wing got half-crunched against the back of the couch. “What’s hurting, runt?”

“My everything,” Tommy complained. “I’ve broken my bones.”

“He’s exaggerating,” Phil jumped in quickly, “I don’t think he actually broke anything.”

“Tech, you look after him,” Wilbur said. “I need to get a drink, my nerves are shot.” 

“I think it’s my left bits,” Tommy said to Techno, who experimentally bent his wrist. “Ow!”

“This,” Techno said, “is your right.”

“I- I don’t remember the difference,” Tommy spluttered, trying not to laugh when Techno prodded along his ribs. “Owwww.”

“You’re not bleeding anywhere,” Techno muttered. “Not much I can do with a first-aid kit.” 

“Good, ‘cause I don’t need it!” Tommy faked a pained sound when Techno gave his knee another experimental bend. “I’m- I’m too big!”

“Sure. Stretch your wing out for me, will you?”

“No,” Tommy snapped. “That hurts.” 

“Do you want help or not?”

“Maybe not from you.” 

Techno ignored him, huffing and manually stretching Tommy’s wing out so the feathers spread. Tommy chirped and grimaced, not having to fake the feeling of an overtaxed limb being pulled.

“You bitch, that hurts,” he complained.

“Well, you definitely tried flying.” Techno poked the sore muscles, Tommy yelping out of genuine pain. “I don’t think anything’s broken, though. Maybe I should grab something to make the couch more comfortable…”

“No!” Tommy said, not wanting Wilbur to get caught. “I’m in pain! Are you sure nothing’s broken?”

“You’d be screaming a lot more if it was,” Techno said. “You’re going to have a hell of bruises tomorrow, and you might have sprained your wing, but I don’t think you broke a bone.”

“How do you know?” Tommy halfheartedly kicked Techno in the ribs. “You’re not a fucking doctor, are you?”

“No, but I’ve had enough experience with broken bones to tell.” Techno glanced over at Phil. “What did you see when you got there?”

“Tommy jumping off the roof,” Phil said truthfully, then must’ve wanted to join in the chaos, because the next words out of his mouth were a pack of filthy lies. “I couldn’t reach him in time, so when I got to the yard he’d already landed and was sprawled out.”

Techno looked suspicious. Shit. 

“Hurt like a motherfucker,” Tommy muttered, rubbing his knee.

“If it hurt so much, why’d you kick me?” Techno asked flatly. 

“Because I forgot.”

Techno turned his suspicious gaze towards Tommy.

“Something tells me you’re not injured, kid. Or, at least, not as injured as you’re claiming to be. Your wings don’t seem in the best shape.”

Tommy folded his arms with a scowl.

“That was before I jumped off the roof, bitch.”

“Nope. I think you genuinely pulled a muscle with that one. But you should be fine with some ice, and not doing anything stupid.”

Tommy flinched, and scowled deeper. 

“You should be nice. I just fell off a building.”

“Correction, you jumped.”

“I was going to glide.”

“With broken feathers?”

“What do you know? You don’t have any fucking wings.”

“I may not have wings but at least I can recognize when something’s a bad idea, like jumping off a building-”

“Boys,” Phil said before either voice got louder. “Keep it down.”

Tommy jerked his head away, trying to ignore the hotness pricking at his eyes.

“I know , okay?” he snapped. “It was a stupid idea. I was fucking stupid to do it in the first place, with my stupid fucking wings and my stupid fucking instincts.” he tried to swallow away the lump in his throat. “I just wanted to try, okay? I’m an avian, I’m supposed to be able to fly. I’m not supposed to be stuck on this shitty fucking ground.”

Techno sighed, sitting on the couch when Tommy curled in. 

“We get it, you screwed up. I know it, you know it, Phil and Wilbur know it. Only thing that matters is if you learned from it. Did you learn something?”

Tommy nodded a little, arms wrapped around his knees. 

“So you know what could happen if you tried again.” Techno folded his arms. “So why don’t you drop it and we can move on, like, say, letting me help.”

“So kind,” Phil deadpanned, lounging in an armchair with his wings awkwardly curled up so he’d fit. “And here I thought you were incapable of basic emotion.”

Techno gave him a disgruntled look. 

“People tire me, Phil, I don’t have the energy for feelings.”

“I’m a people,” Tommy piped up.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in a week. You don’t count.”

“Aw, I’m his favorite,” Tommy said. Techno snorted at him.

“Runt, you grew on me, that doesn’t mean you’re my favorite.”

“Why not?”

“Because reasons.” Techno raised his voice. “Wilbur, how long does it take to grab a few blankets?”

“I’m trying to find the good ones!”

“He better not be nesting,” Techno muttered. “I’m turning on a movie! If you’re not here in five minutes then you don’t get to pick!”

“Do I get to pick?” Tommy implored, putting on his best puppy-eyed expression. “I got hurt.”

“If you don’t keep jumping off buildings.” 

“Okay, I won’t.” Tommy wriggled around so he was facing the tv he hadn’t noticed last time, shoulder brushing against Techno’s. Jesus, he was warm.

“You can’t fall asleep this time either,” Techno said. He reached around Tommy to grab the remote, then seemed to give up and turned the tv on with his arm still around Tommy. 

“No promises on that one,” Tommy said. The tv turned on, and Techno started scrolling through the options.

“Opinions? If you want to annoy Wilbur, he hates most sitcoms and soap operas.”

“Hm…” Tommy scanned the offerings, then grabbed for the remote hovering above his elbow. “Ooh! Ooh! The polar bears! Polar bear show!”

Techno side-eyed him.

“Any particular reason?”

“I like documentaries,” Tommy said back. “And nature. What’s it to you?”

“Fine. Polar bear show it is.” Techno selected it, then yawned exaggeratedly. “That’ll make me fall asleep, there’s nothing interesting going on.”

“Ex cuse me,” Tommy huffed, “there’s lots of interesting things, and drama. Lions fighting to have all the wives, bees that eat their grandchildren, hyenas being sneaky to get more power, that kind of thing.” He snuggled deeper into the couch, wings unconsciously fluffing out as he talked. Techno glanced to them for a moment.

“Are you some kind of animal expert?” he asked. 

“No,” Tommy said with a scoff, “I’m in high school. But I, unlike you, enjoy learning and expanding my horizons with knowledge.”

“Sure, kid.” Techno poked one of Tommy’s wings, this time less of an inspection and more of a playful gesture. “And that’s why you don’t know anything about avians.”

“I do too!” Tommy huffed at him. “I am an avian, which you are not.”

“How many avians other than yourself do you know?”

“Three,” Tommy said, letting out a chirp when fingers dragged through his feathers and promptly reddening. “And that’s more than you!”

“Mm. It’s about quality, runt, not quantity.” Techno kept fiddling with Tommy’s feathers, getting another chirp and humming in reply. 

“Don’t you have a whole hoard of gold or whatever?”

Techno huffed. 

“Yes. Why?” He seemed mellower now, in a weird way, as though messing with Tommy’s wings was putting him into some kind of trance.

“That’s quantity,” Tommy pointed out.

“It’s purposeful. Doesn’t count.”

“What’s it for?”

“People. Friends, family, whatever.”

“Where’s all of Phil’s gold shit, then?”

Techno gave Phil a vaguely hurt look.

“I’m not allowed. They’ve got weak bones.”

“It was too heavy,” Phil translated. “I wear at least a little gold on the regular, though.”

Techno grumbled.

“Your wings are a mess,” he told Tommy.

“Yeah, I know. I tried flying, then was being grabbed a lot, so I’d like to see how you’d look if that happened.” Tommy tried to focus on the documentary, too pissy to keep having this conversation.

A very peaceful maybe half-hour ended when Techno dragged Tommy closer, more in front of him than to the side. Tommy squirmed on instinct, fluttering his wings a little.

“What are you-”

“Shush, I’m preening you. Watch the show.”

“How do you know-”

“Phil. Now shush.”

Tommy scowled, folding his arms, but looked back to the tv. Polar bears again, the female the documentary had been following and her two babies. They were cute, actually, despite the gore that had once been a seal. Polar bear fur looked so fluffy. 

He coughed on a chirp as a loose feather was tugged out of his wing.

Polar bears were so interesting. They lived on land, but were apparently marine mammals because of how much they swam. Their fur wasn’t white, it was translucent- and their skin underneath was black.

There was a tug on his feathers, and Tommy couldn’t help a mildly strangled chirp.

Polar bears can sniff out prey from over one kilometer away.

They can live up to thirty years.

They can swim for days at a time (that explains the ‘marine mammal’ part).

Techno was making a low, almost ticklish rumble, and Tommy’s feathers fluffed automatically. The near-purr was so close to the noise an avian would make. So, so close.

Polar bear paws are slightly webbed.

When they stand on their hind legs they are almost twice as tall as an Overworlder.

They are hypercarnivores, meaning over seventy percent of their diet is meat.

Techno made a soft, laughing sound.

“I can feel your little heart racing. Polar bears that interesting?”

Tommy didn’t reply.

“Your feathers are a lot softer than Wilbur’s,” Techno murmured. “Or Phil’s.”

“Shut up,” Tommy snapped, trying to concentrate. But that rumbling was still happening, and it was hard.

“Okay, forget I said anything.” Techno moved to the other wing.

Phil walked by, moving to an armchair, and Tommy glanced at him.

“What do you want?” Tommy asked a little sourly, another chirp interrupting his question.

“Nothing,” Phil said, “what’s got your feathers ruffled?” His wings folded up behind him. “If you want Techno to piss off, you can tell him so.”

Tommy blinked at him, a little dumbfounded.

“Huh? What- you’re serious?”

“Yes. If  you don’t want him touching your wings anymore, just say so.” Phil shot a narrow glance at Techno. “I’m sure he’ll leave you be if you ask.”

Tommy… didn’t know what he wanted. 

The only other person who’d recently touched his wings this gently… was Zephyrus.

But he really didn’t want to keep making these noises. It was… annoying.

“It’s nothing,” Tommy said finally, swiping one arm across his face to hide it. “I’m just being stupid.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Phil said. “But if anything is wrong, just say so.”

“It’s nothing about you,” Tommy said, swallowing another chirp. He wanted to sink backwards. “It’s… sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

A door slammed, and Wilbur sauntered into the room.

“Are you making him cry?” He asked. “He’s already had a shitty day, don’t make it worse.”

“I had just stopped asking questions,” Phil replied, stretching his wings out and nearly smacking Wilbur in the face. “Sit down, let’s watch this and relax for one afternoon without anyone jumping off any more roofs.”

“Yeah Wil,” Techno muttered, tugging out a few broken feathers and making Tommy let out an accidental chirp or two from the satisfying feeling. “No pranks right now. Just relax. You too, Tommy. You’re a mess.”

“You don’t see me complaining,” Tommy grumbled, arms folded. 

“When d’you molt?”

“Whenever my wings decide, I don’t fucking-” Tommy cut off another chirp when Techno smoothed his feathers, unconsciously letting out a huffy little growl. “I don’t fucking know.”

“Huh. R’you… mad? At yourself?”

“No,” Tommy snapped, biting yet another chirp back. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Wilbur said, laying belly-down on the nearest couch that wasn’t occupied by Tommy and Techno. “You’re embarrassed, I can tell.”

“About what, asshat?”

Wilbur shrugged.

“Being an avian. You think people are gonna judge you, right?”

Tommy huffed, looking away.

“Like you’d know.”

“I mean, I would. There’s a reason my wings are clipped.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

A pause. Phil, barely in Tommy’s sight, seemed rather uncomfortable and like he wanted to strangle Tommy from his armchair. Techno didn’t even falter, just kept preening Tommy’s wings like the fucking dickhead moron he was. Wilbur… was quiet. Very quiet.

“It was the beginning of the fae evictions,” Wilbur said finally. He shifted, maybe sitting up. “Since fae are so random in how they look, it meant basically any hybrid, especially the ones with wings, started getting dirty looks. Got treated like we were dangerous, like we were criminals. Bunch of Phil’s friends got arrested, even a couple of my teachers, just ‘cause someone thought they were fae. And I… I was scared of getting the cops called on me. Scared of getting randomly harassed on the street, sick of the looks I kept getting, sick of the comments, sick of being different. So I… found a pair of pruning shears in the backyard, tried clipping my wings myself. Didn’t work, cause y’know, your arms aren’t long enough to reach. So I went to Phil and asked him to finish the job.” Wilbur paused, clearing his throat, and finished- “I was, uh, ten, maybe.”

Tommy slowly turned to look at Wilbur again, eyes slightly squinted.

“Pruning shears?” He asked, as though that was the most confusing part of the story. Truth was, the story made him feel kinda… sick. Ten?

“You can use regular scissors on normal birds,” Wilbur said idly. “But uh, avian feathers are considerably thicker. My dermatologist usually uses, uh… nail clippers, the type for clawed hybrids or enderian or shit.” 

Phil cleared his throat, and Wilbur colored a little.

“Which isn’t the point of the story,” he said quickly, and let out a breath. “It’s- look, I know what it's like. Feeling like you can’t be yourself and accepted for it.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows.

“Bold words coming from a guy still wearing that fucking coat,” he pointed out.

Wilbur sighed. 

“Yeah. I didn’t say I was any better. I’m- I’m trying.”

“Maybe you two should make a pact,” Phil suggested lightly. Wilbur and Tommy gave him identical Looks, which he grinned at. “It’s a good idea. No one will be hypocritical, and both of you will be better about your health.”

“A pact for what?” Tommy demanded. 

“Guess,” Techno mumbled into his hair. 

Tommy paused, and finally realized. He promptly let out a small, hesitant chirp. Techno hummed, running both hands through Tommy’s feathers, and Tommy himself had the interesting dilemma of trying to not-not chirp.

“There you go,” Phil said, obviously happy. “Don’t be shy.”

That sounded… familiar. Tommy wanted to frown at it, but he had to admit that Phil was an avian. And Techno made that rumbly humming sound whenever he chirped, and it… was nice.

What wasn’t nice? The way Techno was playing with his feathers, a little too harsh for Tommy's liking. Something about this… seemed off. The tone of Techno’s rumble had shifted, to something darker, to something possessive.

Tommy’s next chirp was shaky.

“I’m good now,” he said immediately after, shrugging as if that would dislodge the hands. “You don’t need to keep fucking with them.”

Techno ran one hand through his feathers again, pulling out another shaky chirp.

“Techno,” Tommy forced out, very much not liking the way his feathers were being tugged the wrong way.

“Quiet, runt,” Techno mumbled back, nudging Tommy’s hair with his snout. Smelling him? Yeah, Tommy would rather not with a practical stranger. “You’re okay.” 

This time an intentional drag against the sensitive place where skin met feathers, tearing a string of stuttering chirps from Tommy’s throat.

Wilbur didn’t seem to find anything wrong, not looking up from the end of the couch, but Tommy could see Phil sit up a little straighter, expression getting tense.

“Te-Techno,” Tommy choked, “Techno, stop.”

Techno didn’t. Tommy tried to squirm free, to get off the couch, but he was dragged closer by Techno’s previously-free arm, practically crushed against a solid chest. 

Tommy, with no results, eventually let his pleas merely slip into wordless chirping for help, for protection, who knew.

“Tech,” Wilbur said, having finally noticed. “He said stop. Cut it out.”

Wilbur must’ve reached out, maybe to try and free Tommy from the all-to-confining grasp, because a moment later Techno’s head whipped around and he squealed angrily at his brother, the sound making Tommy wince.

“Okay, fine, Jesus. Just- don’t hold him so tight, you’ll hurt him.”

That, at least, got Techno to relax his hold a little. Tommy sucked in a deep breath, but froze again when Techno’s head settled atop his skull. 

“Golden,” Techno mumbled, quiet enough that even Tommy could barely hear. “Golden boy.” He trailed off into a different, more guttural language (piglin?) and ran one hand through Tommy’s hair, snout still pressed against him.

“I’m… not actual gold,” Tommy said weakly. God, he’d just wanted to watch a fucking polar bear documentary. But no, the universe hated him, he’d done something wrong and made Techno Like This.

“He doesn’t know that, mate,” Phil said softly, having stood and been watching from a safe distance. 

“Little one,” Techno murmured into Tommy's hair, totally ignoring Phil.

“Should I…” Wilbur sounded unsure. “A gapple, right? That helps?”

“Yes,” Phil said with a sigh, “thanks. They’re in the fridge.”

Wilbur got up and vanished, Tommy barely able to track him without moving.

“Gapple?” Tommy repeated hesitantly.

“Golden apple,” Phil explained. “Usually it’s to prevent rot, but it’ll also startle a piglin out of being super instinct-y.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Tommy. It’s worked before.”

Wilbur came back, fidgeting with a dully metallic apple in his hands.

“Tech,” he said, “you hungry?” 

Techno didn’t reply, but when Wilbur tossed the apple he snatched it out of the air, considering it for a moment. 

“Looks tasty,” Tommy said, trying to keep his voice calm. Techno tipped the apple towards him but he shook his head, pushing the fruit back up. “Oh, no, you have it. I’m not hungry.” 

Some crunching as Techno presumably ate the gapple. A solid ten seconds and it was gone, though whether it was because a more rational part of his brain knew it would help, he liked the gold, or he was just hungry? Tommy had no idea.

Tommy was also, despite the situation, more than a little sleepy. Techno was warm, so fucking warm, and even if he’d taken a sharp downward turn into instincts it was…. Kind of nice that someone wanted Tommy around like this. Wanted to protect him, to keep him safe. 

Besides all that, a few minutes passed in which Tommy got increasingly nervous. What if Techno was just… stuck like this forever? Was it working? What was Tommy supposed to do when his mom got home? Call her and say ‘oh yeah my boss’s adopted piglin brother got super instinct-y and now refuses to let go of me, it’s been nice being your son, looks like this is my life now’?

But then Techno froze. Shook his head once, that rumbling sound choking off in a surprised snort. 

Then he let go of Tommy, practically shoving him onto the floor with how frantic the motion was. Tommy squawked, and stumbled to his knees, folding his wings back in and watching how Techno shot to his feet, hesitating in the living room for a moment.

“You with us?” Phil asked. 

Techno did not look at Tommy.

“Yeah,” the piglin mumbled. “Uh- bye nerds.” then he practically bolted, disappearing into the hall.

“Wait, Techno-” Wilbur also got to his feet, giving chase. “There’s probably something you should know if you’re planning on going to your room!”

Then both were gone, and Tommy was left alone in the living room. Well, alone except for Phil. 

Phil sighed with vague relief, and stepped back to sit down again. 

“You alright, Tommy? Nothing hurt?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“Tech doesn’t always realize the difference in sturdiness,” Phil said with a slight grin. “Just want to make sure he didn’t accidentally crack one of your ribs.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, “no more hurt than I was before I got here.”

“Right. Good, good.” 

A moment. Tommy was still sitting on the floor next to the couch. The carpet was scattered with his feathers now, ragged or broken or dirty. Yikes. 

“Did I…” Tommy paused and cleared his throat. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, mate.” Phil’s voice was soft. “You did the best you could under the circumstances, and it’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t make him-”

“No,” Phil said, this time more firmly. Tommy couldn’t see him, as he himself was looking intently down at the carpet. Brown and speckly. “Techno’s… never been the best at keeping a handle on his instincts. And that’s probably my fault, he’s a piglin in an avian family and I was never quite sure how to help him with that.” Phil sighed. “Anyway. I’m- I’m proud of you for trying to stay calm. He wouldn’t have hurt you, not intentionally, but I know from experience that he, like I said before, might just underestimate how much strength it takes to hurt you.”

Tommy folded his arms, picking at a hole in the cuff of his sleeve. 

“He acted kinda upset at me. Like I did something wrong.”

“Well, y’know, he hasn’t known you too long and he’s something of a vault when it comes to anyone besides friends or family. He’s probably more upset with the situation itself - losing control, potentially hurting you, getting territorial and overprotective and all that shit.” A pause, as Phil shifted his weight in the chair. “Are you? Upset with him?”

Tommy shrugged. 

“I dunno. Was just weird, I guess. Didn’t expect it and shit. And-” he swallowed a chirp. “I was a little scared, I guess. I didn’t know what he was going to do, or anything.”

“Yeah. I get that. But I know he wouldn’t try to hurt you intentionally. Ever. He might look big and scary and shit, but he’s just… not that kind of person.” Phil chuckled softly. “I would’ve explained all of this to you eventually, or let him explain himself, but it’s too late now, eh?”

“So if I didn’t do anything wrong, then what?” Tommy hunched his shoulders. “I pretend it never happened and let him fucking ignore me forever?”

“No,” Phil said. “You and him probably have to talk about it. If only so he can explain in his own words, apologize, whatever.”

Tommy looked up. Phil’s arms were crossed, fingers drumming, but his expression was calm. 

“It might be a lot to ask,” Phil continued, “but in the end, we can all work through this together. Does that sound okay?”

Tommy opened his mouth, trying to think of a reply, but before he could his phone (previously forgotten in his pocket) started to ring, blaring out a few bars of a song. 

His face reddened and he scrambled to get his phone out, checking the caller ID. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, “I- it’s my mom. I’ve gotta take this or she’ll flip her shit.”

Tommy pressed Accept Call and raised the phone to his ear.

“Hullo?”

“Tommy? Oh god, Tommy, you’re alright! Where are you?” Shit.“I just got home early, but you’re not here! Door’s unlocked, you were nowhere to be found, I thought you got kidnapped or arrested or killed and I was ten seconds from calling the cops and- you aren’t any of those things, are you? Kidnapped or arrested or killed?”

Tommy flinched.  

“No,” he said softly, “No, Mom, I’m fine.” he took in a breath, more to steady him than anything else. “I- I was bored in the house alone, and- and Wilbur’s dad offered to let me hang for a bit.” Lies. But this was something that did happen a lot (albeit with Tubbo instead), so it wouldn’t be too weird. “Nothing’s happened, I’m alright and it’s not like anything’s weird happened.”

“Okay, that’s good. But send me your location so I can come get you, okay? And please, remember to text me before you go somewhere, it’s getting way too common and I don’t know what I’d do if something actually happened. I can’t lose you, Tommy.”

Tommy swallowed around a lump in his throat.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “yeah, okay. I’ll send you my location. I love you.”

“I love you too. See you soon.” his mom hung up and Tommy pulled his phone away, just staring at the screen for a moment.

“Tommy?”

“My mom’s coming to get me,” he said, sending her his location. 

“I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?”

“No. She was mad I didn’t tell her I was going anywhere, but she’s used to it by now and’s just glad I’m not hurt or anything.”

“Ah.” A pause. “You told her you got bored alone. If she believed it... do you have anyone else in the house? Siblings, a pet?”

“No,” Tommy said. “It’s just me and my mom.” he hugged his arms to his chest. “It’s funny, you’d think I’d be used to being alone by now, but nope. Still get nervous and shit.”

“That’s ‘cause avians aren’t meant to be alone for long,” Phil said gently. “Especially not younger avians.” 

Tommy didn’t have a reply for that. So he sat on the carpet, silent with head bowed. 

“Well,” Phil said after a minute or so of that, “based on the lack of screams I’d say the boys haven’t killed each other yet. Do you think you’d be up for getting things over with and talking with Techno before your mom gets here?”

“I dunno,” Tommy mumbled.

“At the very least, you’d have a quick getaway.”

Tommy snorted despite himself, and glanced up to see Phil grin. 

“I won’t force you. But right now you have an easy out.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but sighed. 

“Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.” 

Phil helped him up off the carpet, and kept one wing wrapped around his shoulders in a comforting way as they walked down the hall. 

When they stopped Tommy peered through the open doorway of what was probably Techno’s room, having to crane around Wilbur in order to see.

There were so many stuffed animals. Piled on the furniture, scattered on the floor, and interspersed with a few things Tommy guessed were school assignments or art projects. 

“You’ve gotta come out eventually,” Wilbur was saying, though it took a moment for Tommy to identify Techno as the blanket-cocooned lump on the bed. Hey, Tommy had seen that movie, but his mom had not bought him a themed bedspread. 

Techno grumbled something back in Piglin, not moving.

“No, he doesn’t-” Wilbur sighed, then promptly noticed Tommy and Phil and jerked. “Shit! How long have you been standing there?”

“About five seconds,” Phil said. 

“Well, since you’re here. You tell him, Toms, he’s insisting you hate him like a big dorky idiot.” Wilbur directed those last few words at Techno. 

Tommy, despite his earlier agreement, faltered and took a step back. This felt very much like an invasion of privacy, and the mood was so far gone from it being funny in any way. 

Phil’s hand rested on his back.

“Go on,” Phil suggested quietly. “You’ll be alright. He’s just moping.”

Tommy swallowed. He was very much not used to seeing people being vulnerable in any way, and it made him rather nervous. 

“I don’t hate you,” he whispered, then cleared his throat and repeated louder- “I don’t hate you.” It was a little less painful knowing that Techno couldn’t see him. “I know you didn’t mean it, and I’m not hurt, so. I don’t hate you.”

Techno laughed, the sound a little choked. 

“And if I had hurt you? I’ve already broken a few bones even on people who’re used to me, and I’m not eager to repeat it.” His voice was bitter. “You didn’t ask to be involved in my problems, runt, and you don’t deserve to be dragged into them whenever I lose control.”

Tommy hunched his shoulders. 

“Yeah, okay, so there’s nothing I could do. You saw me as gold, your gold, and got protective and territorial and whatever. But, like, you were just telling me not to be mad at myself for having instincts and shit. That’s pretty fucking hypocritical in my opinion.”

“Tommy,” Phil murmured, but Tommy waved one hand at him.

“So? I’m right.” He directed his next words to Techno. “And I still don’t hate you for it.”

He’d never truly hated anyone he knew.

Techno huffed, the sound rather muffled. 

“Why are you like this?”

“‘Cause I’m the only one of me, bitch.”

“Does that include being oblivious to danger?”

Tommy snorted. 

“Like you’re fucking dangerous. I’ve known you longer than five seconds, Techno, you frost wedding cakes for fun and think animal documentaries are boring and own a million stuffed animals.”

“I could’ve hurt you.” 

Tommy squirmed to stand next to Wilbur, both occupying the doorway. If Techno had been visible, they could’ve met gazes.

“But you didn’t.”

“And if I do?”

Tommy scowled. 

“Karma, bitch, I tried to peel your skin off the first time we met. Preemptive forgiveness.” 

“Either way,” Techno said, shaking himself partially free from blankets but still not meeting Tommy’s gaze, “you didn’t ask to be a part of this.”

Tommy scowled deeper.

“And I didn’t ask you to come look after me when I was high as a fucking kite, now did I?” He huffed. “Look, keep brooding if you want, but Phil figured we should talk before I get picked up. So if you’re gonna keep being a big baby, bye I guess.”

Techno finally looked up, ears twitching.

“What?”

Tommy folded his arms, huffing. 

“What do you think? I didn’t tell my mom I’d left, she just got back and realized I was gone.” 

Techno blinked, and for a moment it looked like he’d say something.

“Well?” Tommy asked, voice going soft despite himself. 

A pause, and Techno jerked his head around to keep looking away. 

“Go, kid, you don’t owe me anything.”

“Techno-” 

“Wil,” Phil said, “let’s go wait outside. Tommy’s mom will be here soon.”

Tommy turned and followed them, hearing the door shut after a moment.

“Well,” Phil said once they were all the way downstairs, “we tried.”

Tommy huffed, kicking at the concrete of the sidewalk as he waited. 

“Fucking bastard asshat pissbaby dickhead,” he muttered. 

“He’s not really mad at you,” Phil said, for what now felt like the millionth time.

“I know,” Tommy said. “But he’s being so fucking pissy and refusing to admit that people actually like him.”

“Wow,” Wilbur mumbled, “I wonder who that reminds me of.”

Tommy scowled and swatted him. 

“Bitch!”

Wilbur was snickering a little, though his head was turned away so Tommy only really had the sound to go off. 

“Well,” Tommy said, “he was also mad about biology. And guess who else refuses to accept their biology?”

“You?” Wilbur guessed dryly.

“Be-besides me!” Tommy poked him in the back. “You, bitch!” 

“Okay, I get it, we all have the exact same problem and are all being stubborn about it.” 

“Not me,” Phil said.

“You’re some kind of magical fucking creature, Phil, I don’t even know.” 

“Isn’t wearing a coat hot?” Tommy asked, still poking Wilbur. 

“Yeah,” Wilbur said. “And the leather doesn’t help.”

“I want to try it on,” Tommy decided, because he needed something to think about. “Give me your coat, Wilbur.”

Wilbur sighed and rolled his eyes, but pulled off the coat and passed it to Tommy. 

“Knock yourself out,” He said. 

Tommy slipped the coat on, and wriggled inside it for a moment. It felt… weird.

“You wear this and a sweater?” He asked, shrugging his shoulders. 

“The sweater doesn’t cover everything,” Wilbur said, turning a little to demonstrate that sure enough, feathers poked out the bottom of his sweater. “Plus it helps with the chafing.”

Phil made a small noise, and Wilbur seemed to resolutely not look over.

Tommy scanned the road, then stood up a little straighter.

“Hey, my mom’s almost here.”

“Okay, coat back,” Wilbur said, “no stealing today.”

“I’ll try and talk to Techno,” Phil reassured Tommy as the latter pulled Wilbur’s coat off. “With some time, I think he’ll come around.”

“Okay,” Tommy said quietly, half-unfolding his wings for a moment before furling them back in. Still sore. Gods, they’d be excruciating tomorrow, he could just tell. “I- thanks.”

About five seconds after parking Tommy’s mom ran up, grabbing him in a hug that nearly bowled him over.

“I was so worried,” she said, cupping the back of his head as her sunset-colored wings encircled them. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” 

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, and pasted on a smile when his mom pulled back to meet his gaze. “Sorry I forgot to text you.”

“As long as you don’t do it again.” His mom ran her hands over his cheeks, across his face, through his hair, and she let out a sigh before looking over to Phil and Wilbur. “Thank you both for looking after my boy. He wasn’t too much trouble?”

“Oh, no, he’s an angel.” Phil smiled. “It was no trouble.”

“Well, thank you. Again.” Tommy’s mom had kept one hand on Tommy’s shoulder, probably to reassure her that he was still there. “I don’t suppose I could get your number? Just in case this happens again- I’d rather have multiple ways to get ahold of him.”

“Oh, of course.” Phil managed to locate his phone and pulled it out, Tommy’s mom stepping away so they could swap numbers. 

Tommy stood next to Wilbur.

“Great,” Tommy sighed, “now they’ll have a direct link to fuss over me.” 

“It’d probably just be to set up play dates,” Wilbur teased, nudging Tommy’s side.

Tommy nudged him back.

“They’ll be mother hens together, asshat! Probably swapping baby pictures!”

Wilbur winced, and Tommy perked up.

“Ooh, yeah! Blackmail material!”

“Oh god.” Wilbur wrinkled his nose. “Well, I don’t think they’d be blackmail material.”

“Why not?” Tommy demanded. “Aren’t they super embarrassing?”

Avians tended to look one of two ways as a baby- cute and fluffy from birth, like a baby chick, or underdone and scrawny like a robin or something. Tommy hoped Wilbur was the latter.

“Well,” Wilbur conceded, “they are-”

“Ha!”

“But Techno and Ranboo have already seen them, Niki had worse blackmail material, and I don’t have much to lose if Tubbo sees.” 

“Tommy, time to go.”

Tommy shot Wilbur a glance.

“You’re off the hook for now,” he warned, “but I will get my hands on your baby pictures eventually.” Then he waved. “Bye Phil.”

“Bye Tommy.”

Tommy spent most of the car ride rather… restless. Partially because he was worrying about the ladder still sitting on his front lawn and he’d have to move it before anyone noticed. Partially because he was thinking about why Techno had been so salty. Had Tommy done something wrong? He’d been pretty harsh- what if he’d been a jerk and now Techno hated him forever?

“So, you said you were hanging out,” his mom said, making Tommy jerk out of his thoughts. “Did you do anything in particular?”

“Um.” Tommy fiddled with his seatbelt. We fed Wilbur’s brother a gapple because he got protective-instinct-y about me and nearly bit Wilbur. “Watched a movie. Pranked Wilbur’s brother.”

“It wasn’t mean, I hope.”

“No,” Tommy said, “not mean. I got to distract him.”

“Hm. Well, you’re fine, so I’m happy. Wilbur’s family is nice, from what I saw.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “They’re nice.”

His mom huffed in soft amusement.

“Maybe they wish they could adopt you,” she joked. 

“Never!” Tommy sat up straighter. “They’ll never take me from you! I’m too epic for that. I’ll karate-chop them in the face if they ever try to adopt me!”

His mom snorted. 

“Oh god. What movie did you watch?”

“A documentary,” Tommy said. “About polar bears.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah! They’re marine mammals! And they’ve got see-through fur, not white! And-” Tommy dove into a string of fun facts and general information, picking up steam with every question or comment his mom made.

This… was nice. His mom seemed to be always busy, considering how much she needed to work, so Tommy felt like he barely saw her. It was nice to sit here and just talk to her, knowing she was listening to him and paying attention.

Not that he resented her for it! No! She was doing her best and Tommy loved her!

It was just… hard. Sometimes.

Eventually Tommy ran out of things to say and had since fallen silent, staring out the window. Thinking.

“Hey,” his mom said, getting his attention. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much as I should be, in the last few years.”

“It’s okay,” Tommy said. “Uh… is something going on?” 

“I… yeah. One of my jobs fell through, and I have to get a new one as fast as possible so I don’t get any more behind on our payments.” Mom sighed. “So I’ll be out pounding the pavement hoping I get hired.”

“Is finding work hard?” Tommy asked. “I can help, I have a job-”

“No, Tommy, you need that money for yourself. And it’s not that bad, just… difficult, getting and keeping a job, especially right now.”

“Why?”

“Less customers,” his mom said, purposefully vague. “With less customers, businesses need less employees. And part-time workers like me usually get the short stick first, I- I’m sorry. I really am sorry, but- you might need to stay at Tubbo’s when I pick up night shifts.”

Tommy resisted the urge to slump against his seat. No use complaining- this was just how the world worked. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly. 

“And make sure you stay safe, alright? I heard the Syndicate’s been more active than usual.” Mom shook her head, ponytail swaying. “That’s one good reason for people to stay home, I’ll tell you.”

The Syndicate. That was one more thing Tommy had to yell at Zephyrus about when they met. 

When. Not if. 

Tommy was a little surprised at himself for already deciding. But… well. Zephyrus hadn’t really hurt him. And he really did have questions he might be able to get answered.

“Okay,” Tommy said. “I’ll- I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mom muttered something to herself, maybe something about Schlatt and contracts and money, but Tommy couldn’t be sure.

“Good,” his mom said after a moment. “I’d heard that avian kidnappings have been getting more common, and… well.”

Avian kidnappings. Which Tommy had been one of. Not that his mom knew that, she’d just assumed he was at Tubbo’s house.

Either way, Tommy nodded and went back to looking out the window.

They rode home in a faintly uneasy silence.

Once home, Tommy made him and his mom dinner. Mom ate quickly and went to bed, but Tommy stayed up to eat in front of the tv, which was playing some random reality show he didn’t really care about but needed to have on just to push away the silence.

Tommy did the dishes, then went to bed. He didn’t notice the figure perched outside his window, red glass winking in a skull mask. He didn’t notice the figure move as if to get up when he began to twitch and mutter fitfully, caught in a nightmare. He didn’t notice the soft ‘goodnight’ before the figure disappeared just after midnight. 

Well. Not that he didn’t notice. But he didn’t pay it any mind.

After all, a lonely and exhaustion-addled brain can make up whatever it feels like.

Chapter Text

George slapped down a paper on Dream’s desk.

“Hm? What’s this?” Dream blinked over his mug of coffee, which he knew wouldn’t actually do anything, but it smelled good so he might as well drink it.

“They finally managed to disable the sedative in the hilt of Protesilaus’s sword,” George said, way too energetic this early in the morning. “The lab ran samples and confirmed that stuff as being a concentrated form of warped fungus sap.”

“Mm. And?”

“No prints, so that’s not a lead.” George hopped up onto his own desk, legs swinging. “But I did look into that bakery owner, Wilbur Soot, and he doesn’t have any previous arrest records. He’s totally clean, like Tommy said.”

“George, if we could figure out who the Syndicate was just from arrest records, we wouldn’t be here right now.” Dream tried to rub away the headache that was already coming on. “Have you at least talked to him yet?”

“Can’t spare the manpower,” George replied, scribbling something on the paper he’d brought. “Too many officers are busy on missing persons’ cases.” He tossed a pencil, where it bounced off of Sapnap’s head. “Hey, Sap!”

“Such soft hair- oh I’M AWAKE!” Sapnap surged up, having been dozing on his desk. Then he promptly stole Dream’s coffee. “What’s happening?”

“What were you dreaming about?” George asked, looking disgusted.

“Nothing.” Sapnap took a long, suspicious slurp of coffee. “What were you guys saying?” 

“How’s it going, searching security footage from the diner?”

“Well, I didn’t find anything super helpful. The boys we questioned came in with three other people- an avian, an enderian, and one of our suspects. The first five leave before the fight starts, but he stays behind.” Sapnap idly swirled the mug around, inspecting the liquid inside. “He waits, then goes into a place without cameras, and that’s the last you see him.” he pulled over his laptop, opening it up and clicking around for a minute. “Here, I’ve got screenshots. They’re not good, but they’re there.”

Dream looked over the screenshots for a bit. Yep, that was a dead ringer for Protesilaus’s build, his body language. The cameras didn’t have stellar quality, something Dream was still pissed about, but he could still tell.

“No better shots?” Dream asked, squinting at the grainy image.

“That’s the best we could get,” Sapnap replied, sinking back into his chair. 

“Well, we’re not getting anywhere unless we know who this guy is.” Dream let out a thoughtful hiss. “Can you send the footage to me so I can look it over?”

“Sure. Have any ideas as to who he is? Maybe an employee of the bakery?”

“Nah, we double-checked the employment records and the boys were telling the truth.” Dream tapped the screen of the laptop as if that would make the still image turn. Then he handed it back to Sapnap. “Check the records of wounded and casualties from the fight, just in case we’re wrong.”

Sapnap took the laptop back and started looking up the records.

“Hey, if I don’t find anything, I can go home early, right?” he asked absentmindedly. “I kinda made plans tonight.”

“Yeah,” Dream said, “but only if you haven’t found anything by five. This our best lead in months, and we can’t afford to be sloppy with it.”

He drummed his fingers on the table, frowning off into space.

“What would a fucking piglin be doing at the bakery?” he muttered to himself. “With those boys, no less? We should’ve kept them longer, asked more questions.”

“Too late now,” George said with a shrug. “What do you want us to do? Send someone to spy on them?”

Dream mulled it over, then tilted his head.

“Now, there’s a thought. We send someone over, we can get some more information without making them clam up. But it couldn’t be one of us, or anyone they might’ve seen the day we brought them in. Probably a hybrid, too, the bakery serves mostly hybrids and a human might be more suspicious to see.”

Just then Sam entered the room, idly humming to himself and carrying a box.

Dream perked up.

“Hey Dream,” Sam said without looking up, “I’ve got-”

“SAM!” Dream practically shouted, making all other three people in the room wince at the loud noise. “Sam, you remember how I said I’d get you out into the field again?”

“Uh.” Sam looked at him blankly. “Yes. What’s this about?”

“I’ve got a job,” Dream said. “And you’re the only one who can do it.”

“According to Dream, anyway,” Sapnap said, climbing back onto his chair. “He wants you to do a stakeout.”

Sam blinked, setting the box down on George’s (still incredibly messy) desk.

“Stakeout? Dream, I told you why I’m not doing that anymore.”

“Okay, it’s not a stakeout,” Dream said, “It’s… think of it as a deep cover job. But you won’t be in any danger. And you can get a lot of free food.”

“That’s… oddly specific. Some kind of smuggling ring?” 

“No, it’s- look, we brought in a couple kids the other day,” Dream explained. “They work at a bakery recently implicated in some suspicious activity. We interrogated them but they didn’t give us much information, so I want someone keeping eyes on the business just to make sure. One of them, Tommy, even got fucking kidnapped by the Syndicate, and it can’t be a coincidence that we started getting leads when him and his friend got involved. The Syndicate might be after them, or be backing them, and we need to keep them safe and under observation. Can you do that for me, Sam?”

Sam frowned, obviously thinking it through. Then he glanced up, eyes narrowed.

“No messy stuff?”

Dream shook his head.

“No messy stuff. You’ll scope out the bakery, track the clientele, the employees, suspicious behaviour.”

“And what am I getting in return?”

“You get out of the station, a bonus, and like I said earlier, free food.”

Dream knew he was putting all his eggs in one basket. Sam was retired, and might not even have the extra time to spend fucking around. But here was an opportunity, and Dream was going to jump on it as quick as he could. 

Finally, Sam let out a sigh.

“I’ll do it.”

Dream resisted the urge to pump his fist.

“Yes! Thank you! I’ll get those files and you can start as soon as possible.”

“Noted. Actually, could I just grab them now? I don’t have much else to do.”

“Sure,” Dream said. “Hey, what were you carrying just now?”

“Your staff,” Sam replied. “We finished dusting it for prints along with the sword.”

“Right. Anything?”

“Nope, Protesilaus didn’t lay a finger on it. Oh, and speaking of Protesilaus, there’s also an analysis of what process the sap might’ve undergone so you can narrow down who might’ve had the knowledge to do it.”

“Sweet!” Sapnap said, jumping up from his chair and grabbing the box to rummage for the papers.

“Uh… oh, files!” Dream remembered, and pointed to his file cabinet. “Files should be in there, but I can also grab digital copies if you’d prefer.”

“Digital,” Sam said, “it’s less to carry.”

Dream nodded, and started searching for a USB stick in all the clutter. Shit, where was it? He could’ve sworn he’d seen one just barely, but now he was too excited to think properly. Finally, new leads! New information! This case had been going stale for months since the city center bombing, and now there were new developments!

Though, Dream hoped those boys weren’t involved with the Syndicate. It was never a good sign if some teenagers needed to be a part of an illegal terrorist organization.

“Uh…” Sapnap looked up from the box, taking a random photo out of the stack of papers he’d been looking through. “Sam, what’s this?”

Sam twitched and practically lunged to take the photo.

“Classified. Sorry. Pretend you never saw it.”

“Files done!” Dream held up the USB stick he’d managed to find and fill with the pertinent information. 

“Ah, thanks.” Sam took the stick. “Thanks, I’ll take a look. Well, I better be going.”

“Get back to us if you find anything out,” Dream said, and received a small salute before Sam left. Well, this was going well. Maybe it was even the turning point for this case, and soon the whole thing would be cracked wide open.

God, he hoped. 

—————

“So, Tommy.”  Tubbo leaned onto the counter next to him, pausing for a moment. “How many eggs do you think you could stack before they fell over?”

“None,” Niki said quickly, “because we’re not stacking eggs, we’re taking out serving orders.”

“We?”

“You.” Niki moved to the oven as Tubbo accidentally threw up a puff of flour and narrowly avoided sneezing into his bowl. Ha. Nerd.

“‘You’ as in one of us specifically?”

“Nope. Those detectives are back, and they ordered enough food for half a dozen people. You’ll need two sets of hands.”

Tommy exchanged a glance with Tubbo.

“No,” both said to Niki, in perfect unison.

“Boys,” Niki said, “they’re paying customers and-”

“And they arrested us! Just- the other fucking day!” Tommy would rather not see those bitches again, thank you very much.

Niki sighed.

“Please, just take the orders out. They were just doing their jobs.”

“Yeah, Tubs, you need to keep up your social skills,” Tommy said.

“Social?” Tubbo blinked innocently. “What is that? My dad only let me out of the house for this job.”

Ranboo made a small huffing laugh, and Tubbo grinned at him, but a moment later the smile slipped and he turned away again.

Sus. In Tommy’s humble, unbiased, and eternally wise opinion.

“Here’s the orders,” Niki said, passing him the list. “Please, hurry.”

Tommy was taking plates out of a cupboard when he looked over to Tubbo.

“How was it?”

“How was what?” Tubbo didn’t look back at Tommy, craning onto tiptoes to grab a platter. 

“Y’know. Ranboo’s house.”

“Oh.” Tubbo snuck a glance in Ranboo’s direction, wings buzzing.

Tommy raised his eyebrows.

“Did you guys kiss?” He asked slyly.

“Wh- no!” Tubbo reddened, swatting Tommy’s arm and decidedly not looking at him. “We watched a movie, and I went home!”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, leaning closer.

“Is that all, Tubso? Really?”

“Yes. We talked.”

“About?”

“His cat.”

“Cool. I jumped off my roof. What’s the cat’s name?”

“Enderchest- what? You jumped off the ROOF?” Tubbo’s head whipped around, expression horrified. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Tommy shrugged, hoping he looked more chill than he felt. 

“Wanted to try gliding. Also, there’s something you’re not saying.”

Tubbo stared at him for a second,  then turned back to the cupboard. 

“You can’t prove it. We talked about his cat, watched a movie, talked more, and I went home.”

“Hm.”

Tubbo paused. 

“You said you wanted to try gliding. What, pray tell, does that mean?”

“That I tried,” Tommy said. He needed to get some banana bread. 

“Did it work?”

“Um. No.” Tommy tried to move on from that with- “did you talk about anything else?”

Tubbo hedged around the question for a moment, probably for as long as he could, before he forced out- “the End.”

“Anything else?”

“Tommy, the fuck do you mean it didn’t work? Why are you avoiding the question?”

“You didn’t ask me a question,” Tommy pointed out, laying out banana bread.

Tubbo rolled his eyes.

“You’re doing it now. If you jumped off your roof and couldn’t fly, how the fuck are you not in the hospital or some kind of cast, at the very least?”

“Just strained my wings a little,” Tommy said with a shrug. That was a lie. His wings hated him. He didn’t want to move them ever again. 

“No bruises or anything?”

“Nope. Why aren’t you talking to Ranboo?”

“I-” Tubbo scowled. “Stop trying to derail the conversation.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy called, “how ‘bout some of those jam packets?”

“Toms, just for today, I will deign to listen.” Wilbur set a little basket of jam and butter packets next to Tubbo, and went back to the fridge. “Niki, how many eggs again?”

“I know there’s something you’re not saying,” Tommy said, to Tubbo again. “Because you were going to say something just now, when I asked.”

“Yeah, well, why did Wilbur call you ‘Toms’?”

“It’s a thing he does.”

“He calls you a gremlin, not Toms. I call you Toms.”

“And you call Ranboo sus things,” Tommy shot back with a smirk, “because you’re being sus. Also, he keeps looking at you.”

Tubbo jerked his head back but saw only Ranboo’s head whipping the other way, the enderboy’s voice rising in a nervous question.

“So?” Tubbo snapped. “Maybe he’s just being weird.”

“You think he’s being weird? That’s more weird.” Tommy frowned a little. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on, like, at all?”

“I’d rather not,” Tubbo said. “‘Cause I think you’d probably try to commit a crime.”

Tommy frowned more. 

“That’s not reassuring. At all. Will you tell me later?”

“Depends.”

“You’re not giving me a whole lot to work with, Tubs.”

“Good, that’s the point.” Tubbo stacked plates a little harder than necessary, harsh ceramic scratching Tommy’s hearing. “Because I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Well, I don’t want to talk about Wilbur.”

“Fine. It’s not like it matters.” With that, Tubbo went back to work, and Tommy just had to deal with the relative silence. 

A bit later, everything was ready and they could go up front to serve the detectives. Not that Tommy and Tubbo were happy about it, oh no, Tommy glared at them the whole time while walking up and he figured Tubbo did as well. That bee boy had one mean death glare, enough that it would probably make the detectives drop dead if they saw. Well, key word here being ‘if’. Tommy knew by now that Tubbo would keep his expression neutral while the object of his loathing had him in sight. 

“Hey boys,” Dream said cheerfully, as though he hadn’t once put Tommy in handcuffs. “Oh, I haven’t introduced you yet- this is Sam.” he gestured to a fourth at the table, a man with green hair and matching freckles. 

Sam, who’d been on his laptop, looked up at his name. His eyes were just- solid black, holy shit. So he was a creeper. Not... a super common hybrid. Though that was… not surprising. 

“Oh, hello,” the creeper said, looking a little ruffled and startled at the sudden intrusion. “Nice to meet you boys.” 

“Don’t tell me you bastards all work together,” Tommy said flatly. “It’s awfully bold of you, two, waltzing in here like you didn’t just arrest us for no fucking reason.”

“We had good reason,” that one guy - Sapnap - interjected, hair under a bandana today. “It’s not like we posted bail or anything.”

“Save the apologies for someone that cares,” Tubbo said, eyes flashing dangerously. 

“We didn’t have a choice,” George said. “We’ve been stuck on this case for months, and we didn’t know if Protesilaus would come down on our heads or something if we stuck around.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap agreed, blinking over his second expresso, judging by the two cups. “And we got shit for what we did, too.”

“Whatever.” Tommy set the contents of his arms down, followed by Tubbo a moment later. “Eat your food and get out.”

“Should I be worried someone spat in it?” Sapnap mumbled to George. 

“Well-” Sam began, but Tommy cut him off. 

“Nope, no arguing, no we didn’t do anything to your fucking food, ‘cause we’re actually good people, and I can get you kicked out ‘cause I know the owners.”

“Uh… we know,” Dream said. 

“What I was trying to say,” Sam said with a long-suffering sigh, “is that, no, I’m not a coworker. Life as a cop or a detective doesn’t appeal to me. I’m just an old friend that knows these chuckleheads from uni. They suggested we meet up here because the food was good.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. Then yelped when Tubbo elbowed him. “What, ow!” 

Tubbo shot him a fainter version of the Death Glare. 

Tommy sighed, then looked to Sam. 

“Sorry I inadvertently called you a bastard. You don’t seem like one of these assholes anyway.” 

Sam, instantly proving himself better than his compatriots, laughed. 

“Oh, it’s fine. I’d have thought the same. And it looks like I’ll be coming back, both for the food and the entertaining company, so it was nice meeting you.”

“Hello and goodbye!” Tubbo said cheerfully, then gave the other three a withering scowl before dragging Tommy back to the kitchen. 

Just in the back, dithering and hunched in on himself, Ranboo was waiting. He looked up when they got near, ears pricking.

“Oh! Hey! Um… could I… talk to you? Tubbo?”

Tubbo’s expression stayed solid, but his antennae twitched and lay flat.

“About?”

Ranboo opened his mouth - what the fuck was the deal with his tongue? - before faltering and glancing at Tommy.

“Y’know… yesterday.”

Suspicious.

“Oh,” Tubbo said. “Um. Tommy, can you… give us a second?”

Mega fucking suspicious.

—————

Tubbo glowered up at Ranboo, folding his arms as Tommy left.

“What do you have to say, Ranboo?”

Ranboo took in a deep breath, scratching at his arm.

“If I upset you yesterday,” he said, “I’m- I’m so sorry.”

“What? No, it wasn’t you-” Tubbo reached out on impulse then hesitated, second-guessing himself. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have gotten in your space, or anything, a-and I didn’t want to overstep even more which is why I’ve been avoiding you.” He dropped his gaze, catching sight of the angry red marks under Ranboo’s nails. “And I- I didn’t want to make you think that…” 

He swallowed back the end of that thought. It was too honest, even for him. 

“Think what?” Ranboo’s voice was soft. “Tubbo, it’s- I’m not mad. I just… wanted to know why you suddenly don’t seem to trust me.”

“I don’t- I can’t-” Tubbo was stumbling over his words now, because he wanted to lie so badly and why couldn’t he get out a single coherent sentence?

“I don’t want anything bad happening to you,” he managed to force out eventually. “Because- because of me.” 

A pause. 

“Tubbo, that’s…” Ranboo hesitated again, then sighed. Tubbo wanted to flinch. “I can handle myself. Honestly, if there’s anyone that might have something bad happen to, it’s- it’s you.”

“Sure, okay.” The words tasted bitter. Of course he can handle himself. You’re the fragile one the breakable broken one the one who needs to be protected and locked up and smothered-

Tubbo wrapped his hands around his arms, wings buzzing with some unidentifiable emotion. 

“Tubbo, can you- stop doing that?”

Tubbo forced his wings to still. 

“No, not- not that, sorry, I- I meant when you- when you just agree with me and still act like I kicked your dog or something. If you don’t actually believe me, you can say so. I want- I want to be able to talk to you without you- closing yourself off. This- this happened yesterday, too, and- why? Why can’t you just talk to me?”

Tubbo gritted his teeth.

“You wanna know why? You really do?”

“Yes.” Ranboo sounded hurt, but when Tubbo chanced a glance upwards, his expression was unreadable. 

“Because I don’t know whether or not to believe you. It makes a guy kinda paranoid, y’know, when he can’t help but tell the truth and no one else in his life has any such condition. And guess what? I know you can handle yourself. Like I knew Tommy would be fine that day I was worrying about him- it’s- I know I hurt you, or upset you, or something, and I’m going to worry about it whether or not I’m the more fragile out of us. And that too- I’m not a fucking child. I can handle myself too, and I don’t really appreciate it when everyone acts like I’m some kind of helpless doll. The thing is, I can’t just do whatever I want all the time, contrary to popular belief, and if someone found out about you? About us? You don’t get it, Ranboo, but you could get hurt and I-” He stumbled again, tripping up for the second fucking time. Either way, he stepped back and wrapped his  arms around himself. “If you don’t actually care, fine. Do whatever you fucking want.”

“Tubbo.”

This time Tubbo did flinch. God, he really was digging his own grave with this one, wasn’t he? He just couldn’t stop fucking things up.

“What?” he hissed out. 

“You’re still doing that thing. I’m trying to help, and-” Ranboo sighed. “⊬⍜⎍'⍀⟒ ⋔⏃☍⟟⋏☌ ⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⊑⏃⍀⎅⟒⍀ ⎎⍜⍀ ⏚⍜⏁⊑ ⍜⎎ ⎍⌇. Okay, I- I won’t push anymore. You go get a drink or something, okay? You’ve got to take care of yourself.”

“I have work, I can’t.” Tubbo rubbed at his eyes as if that would push away the painful stinging sensation. Fuck, he wished he could be anywhere other than here, under Ranboo’s scrutiny.

“Yes you can,” Ranboo countered, “I’ll tell Wilbur and Niki off if they try to give you trouble for it, and we’re not really busy, so it’ll be fine if you go and eat something and drink water.”

Tubbo wouldn’t look at him. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he said quietly, “I don’t want to be a problem-”

“You’re not a problem. Now go.”

Ranboo pushed (okay technically nudged but it still counted) him, the bastard, and Tubbo flipped him off but started moving. 

“You’re so pushy,” Tubbo muttered, even if little flickers of warmth bubbled in his chest. 

“Don’t come back until you feel better,” Ranboo practically ordered. 

“Then I’ll be in there for the rest of my life.”

“What?”

“Forget about it. I’m going.”

Curse Ranboo fucking whatever his last name was, he was right. Tubbo actually did feel a little better once he’d drunk some water and ate some fruit snacks he’d packed. Fucking Ranboo. 

A few minutes later, Tubbo reentered the kitchen with the intent of rejoining Ranboo, who was on the opposite wall humming as he worked. But then Tubbo noticed something else- Tommy and Wilbur, standing together and mid-hilarious-conversation, if the laughter was anything to go off of. 

Tubbo frowned a little. 

Why did Wilbur call you ‘Toms’?

Tubbo decided to listen in instead of actually going back to work. 

“-did what?” Tommy was asking with an incredulous laugh. 

“Tried cutting Tech’s hair but ended up notching his ear instead,” Wilbur said, as if he’d explained it before. That made Tommy laugh harder. “It’s- what’s so funny?”

“Regular pigs get their ears notched when they’re born,” Tommy said, “then I was thinking about Techno as a baby but all I could imagine was this really buff angry-looking pig in a onesie.”

Wilbur snickered. 

“He definitely returned the favor.” he lifted a hand, shuffling some hair away from his ear and tilting his head so a stud winked green and gold in the light. “An ear for an ear, according to him.”

“You almost cut his ear off and he gave you a cool as fuck piercing? How’s that fair?!”

“I think he used it as an excuse to permanently stick some gold in me,” Wilbur deadpanned. “And then we both got in trouble and my ear got infected for like, a month.”

“You kept the earring? Isn’t it weird only having one?”

Wilbur shrugged. 

“I dunno, I think it looks cool.”

Tommy let out an assenting nod.

“Okay, yeah, it does.”

“Thanks.”

“Not on you though. It looks stupid on you.”

“Wh- rude!” Wilbur attempted to swat Tommy but failed, receiving only feral cackling for his troubles.

Seriously. When the fuck had they suddenly gotten so buddy-buddy? Tubbo was actually tempted to call them out right now, because at least Wilbur wouldn’t expect it and might drop something actually useful. 

“What are you looking at?”

Tubbo almost jumped out of his skin, whipping around startledly. 

“Techno!” he blurted out. “Um! Just seeing what’s going on around here! Why are you here? How the fuck did I not notice you? What are you doing?”

Techno inspected him with an unreadable expression. Oh, there was a notch in one of his ears, near the base. 

“Checking on things,” the piglin said flatly. “Why do you keep making weird faces?”

Tubbo blinked.

“What?”

“I’ve been standing here for a bit, seeing how long it would take before I was noticed. And you keep giving Ranboo and Tommy these weird looks, like they’re causing you actual physical pain just by existing.”

Tubbo huffed. 

“Well, they’re not.”

“Mhm. Well, if you’re just going to keep standing around like some kind of angsty teenage health inspector, I’m gonna help Ranboo.”

“I’m not, and it’s fine, I was just heading back anyway.” Tubbo brushed past, and for half a moment thought he saw one of those aforementioned Weird Pained Looks directed at Tommy. Weird.

Ranboo’s ears twitched as Tubbo approached, the owner looking up and smiling a little. 

“Tubbo, hey! Um. Are you feeling better?”

Tubbo hunched his shoulders. 

“I don’t feel worse.” He handed Ranboo an egg without being asked, clearing his throat a little nervously. “You- you really weren’t bothered by me? Yesterday?”

“Of course not,” Ranboo said. “I said so, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Tubbo replied, half admittance and half compulsion. “I just- people have gotten annoyed. Other times.”

Ranboo shook his head. 

“I don’t mind at all, Tubbo. If I did, uh, I’m not sure Techno would have been polite to you just now.”

Tubbo frowned. 

“Huh? Wait, you saw that?”

“I heard voices,” Ranboo replied with a shrug. “And… yeah. Techno gets a little… overprotective, sometimes. Nothing against him, but if I really didn’t like you, he probably wouldn’t let you get anywhere near me.”

“Oh,” Tubbo said. “And- and you swear you’re telling the truth?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo said with another idle shrug. 

“No, Ranboo, I-” Tubbo huffed. “You promise?”

Ranboo blinked, and looked over. His eyes widened a little, as he presumably understood the gravity of the question. 

“You’re not- doing magic, are you?”

“No,” Tubbo said, “I- I don’t know how, remember?”

He hadn’t even considered being able to make other people keep their promises to him. Usually it was the other way around. 

Tubbo tilted his head. 

“Uh… why did you ask?”

Ranboo blinked, and looked away. 

“I don’t know. I felt…” he trailed off into an inaudible mumble, ears flicking before his voice picked up again into something set with conviction. “But I do promise I’m not lying, Tubbo. I’d never lie to you.”

Tubbo continued to look at him for a moment. 

“You don’t…” Ranboo made an awkward face. “You still don’t believe me, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Tubbo said. “But… I think I will this time.”

Ranboo smiled. 

“Thank you.”

Tubbo gave him a smile back, then turned his attention to the recipe at hand. 

He didn’t see Ranboo’s face fall immediately, fingers wrapping around his arm and nails itching at the skin, leaving red marks behind. 

—————

Techno, having been wrestling with himself for far too long, eventually forced himself to approach Wilbur and Tommy. They didn’t notice him (nerds) until he cleared his throat to announce his presence. 

“Hey,” he said. Good starter. Totally not awkward. He said ‘hey’ to Wilbur all the time, this definitely wasn’t different at all. 

Both avians looked up. 

“Hey Tech,” Wilbur said easily. “Funny thing, we were just talking about you.”

Based on Tommy’s sudden silence, Techno doubted it was anything good. 

“Keeping up my reputation?” he asked to save face, stomping on the suddenly reawoken part of his brain that screamed at him. “You know I can’t afford to look like a wimp, it would be bedlam.”

“I want an earring,” Tommy said out of the blue, earning a very confused look from Techno. “You could do the piercing, right?”

Techno paused, then eyed Wilbur. 

Wilbur, the coward, looked away.

“You told him that story?” Techno asked, more than a little betrayed. “I told you to keep it a secret! You promised!”

“Yeah, when we were fourteen. Look, I can’t exactly hide a wholeass piece of jewelry that’s on me all the time, especially not from that little gremlin.” 

“I’m not little!” Tommy protested. 

“You told him on purpose,” Techno said accusingly. 

“Okay, fine, unclench your teeth about it. I don’t even know why you’d want it a secret anyway.” 

“One, I’ve spent a long time curating a careful and cool backstory for your little accident with scissors,” Techno said, scowling. “Two, I don’t like everybody knowing everything about me.” Especially not certain somebodies that-

“Why?”

Techno couldn’t help a glance at Tommy, who was watching with a guarded expression. Because of course it did, Techno’s brain immediately began showing him every single less-than-wholesome memory involving the avian. 

- certain somebodies that had already seen too much.

Techno huffed, trying to keep himself together, and folded his arms. 

“Breach of privacy. Anyway, no, I’m not giving anyone else any more piercings.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Tommy practically whined. Techno bit down on his tongue upset child upset fix the problem pounding insistently inside his skull. “Why not?”

“I don’t think your mom would like finding out that you let some random unlicensed stranger get anywhere near you with the intent to stab you with needles. Also, Phil grounded me from any more bootleg piercings.” Not even after the Wilbur fiasco, no- a badly-done and therefore badly-scarred lip piercing was to blame for that. 

“It’s not like she would find out,” Tommy retorted, because he was Tommy. “She’s super busy now and barely has time to see me, so I think I could go a few months without her noticing and then by that time it’ll be permanent anyway.”

The beginning of that argument raised a whole new issue in Techno’s mind, and the nagging insistence to just- put Tommy somewhere safe and keep him there so he could be looked after, wouldn’t be alone, wouldn’t be a lost little shote-

No, nope, Tommy may not be an adult but he wasn’t a child either despite the fluffy wings half the size of Phil’s and the curly golden hair-

Techno was glad he’d mastered the art of keeping his expression neutral no matter what he was thinking about, because otherwise he might have been worried that someone would catch a flicker of internal instinct-wrestling. 

“Wait, what?” Wilbur asked, having evidently also picked up on the implications there. “What does that mean?”

Tommy shrugged, as if it was no big deal. 

“She leaves before I wake up and gets back after I’m asleep. She said she’d let me know if she’ll be gone all night, so I can sleep at Tubbo’s house or something.” 

“And- and this is happening why?”

“My mom’s looking for work,” Tommy said, a little slower than his previous sentence. “And she said she’ll be picking up extra shifts at her other jobs to pick up the slack. It’s fine though, I can work things out with Tubbo so I make it here on time and won’t have to leave early or anything.”

Techno glanced over to Tubbo, and found him deep in conversation with Ranboo. It seemed that he was rather preoccupied, but Techno would not offer for Tommy to stay at Phil’s because Techno had already almost hurt him and why put the runt in a situation where that could happen again. 

“You know, there’s plenty of space at my house,” Wilbur offered, instantly ripping away the slightest hope of Tommy being under Phil’s roof ever again. 

Techno fought back a protesting sound and the distraction that was Tommy’s hair shining gold gold gold under the lights small small little one child shote-

“I mean, I guess,” Tommy said, voice small. “I’d have to ask my mom, but- you sure?”

Wilbur nodded. 

“Yup. I’ve got an empty bed or two.”

Plus Tubbo’s dad happened to be a crime lord that by all accounts cared for little more than his business and his son, if even the latter. But besides that, Techno was still a little miffed, because Wilbur lived on the other side of town and he didn’t know how to preen wings properly and Techno only came to the bakery a few times a week and that wouldn’t be enough if he was going to look out for Tommy-

“Tech,” Wilbur said dryly, “Next time make an offer first and spare us your mopey face.”

“I’m not moping!” Techno barked. Why was Wilbur one of the few people not fooled by his mask of neutrality? They’d barely spoken outside of work for the past six or so years!

Tommy was looking at him with confusion and a little worry. No, he shouldn’t be worrying, it was going to be okay, golden boy didn’t need to worry-

Techno pushed that thought away, like all the others. He’d already had an instincts-meltdown in the past three days, thank you, so he was covered for the next six weeks.

“Yeah?” Wilbur asked. “Sure about that? Why not offer first, you and Phil wanted to help him so badly.”

“I wanted to give you a fighting chance, Wilbur,” Techno said, hoping he sounded sarcastic instead of snarly. 

“Uhuh. Anyway, what’re you doing here?”

Uh oh. The big question. 

Techno didn’t avoid it, nuh uh, he was just looking around and shuffling his hooves because he enjoyed the interior design choices of this freezing, overwhelmingly-wheat-and-butter-y bakery. Was he going to admit that he’d come here because he’d given into the urge to make sure both of them were okay and nothing would happen to them? No, absolutely not. That was such a bad idea only Wilbur would follow through with it, and Techno wasn’t Wilbur, he was himself. 

“Did you see those detectives out front?” Techno asked, definitely not running in the opposite direction from Wilbur’s question. “They had someone new with them, a creeper.” A weirdly familiar creeper. Techno had never met him, he would’ve remembered the faint sulphur smell, but there was something familiar. 

“Ugh, yes,” Tommy said, now scowling. “Sam - the creeper - was alright, but those detectives, ugh, fucking bastards. Those bitches could vanish off the face of the earth for all I care.” His feathers ruffled in annoyance, some stray pieces thrown off his wings with the motion. “They didn’t even really fucking apologize, just spouted some bullshit about how it was necessary.”

Techno, too distracted from mentally running through any memories in which he might’ve seen a creeper involved with the police force and getting concerned at how Tommy’s feathers were just disintegrating, couldn’t stop a soft growl from rumbling in his throat. 

“Do I need to kick them out?”

Wilbur reached across the table to grab his shoulder like just a few days ago.

“Tech, that’s not really a good idea.”

Oh, sure, but they made Tommy upset. Anything that made Tommy upset should disappear from his life, really. Hypocritical of Techno, yes, but he wasn’t going to think about that. 

“If you start doing something you’ll regret later,” Wilbur said, this time in Piglin, “I can’t guarantee we’ll be able to snap you out of it. We don’t have any gapples handy.”

Gapples. Yesterday afternoon, Tommy chirping panickedly, heart racing against Techno’s chest and his pleas and his frantic squirming like a pet roughly handled by a toddler.

Techno blinked. 

“Ah,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say when loathing made his skin crawl. “I guess I… won’t do that, actually. Uh… is there something you need done?”

“You could decorate cupcakes, I guess.” Wilbur sounded a little concerned, but the suggestion was solid. “They’re in the waiting fridge, top shelf.”

An understanding grunt and Techno moved away before he did anything stupid. 

The tray of cupcakes rattled when he set it down on the counter, searching for some suitable frosting colors. He avoided the yellow very purposefully, as well as the orange and red, so eventually he had to settle for green and blue. Right. Cupcakes. He could frost cupcakes.

Techno had to be very intentional with the swirly lines of frosting he was making, brain all jittery from Everything, but as he got more into the groove and settled down he didn’t have to focus as hard and unconsciously let his awareness drift back to the two avians back to conversation.

“-for one, think that cows are the superior livestock,” Tommy was declaring. 

“Wrong,” Wilbur shot back. “Sheep.” 

“Well, clearly you’ve never met Clara.”

“Who the fuck is Clara?”

“A cow one of my neighbors has. I’m allowed to go in and play with her because she needs to stay used to people while her owners are busy, and a couple of times I’ve actually fallen asleep on her ‘cause she’s a show cow so she’s kept super clean and fluffy and shit.”

Techno didn’t have any trouble imagining Tommy lazing around in some kind of field with a fluffy cow. The idea was somewhat comforting, actually. 

“Sheep are fluffy all the time though,” Wilbur pointed out. 

“Unless you shear them, which you have to do.”

“Plus keeping a cow fluffy would take a lot of work, don’t they need to be fucking- blowdried and shit?”

“Can you ride a sheep?”

“Uh… no.”

“Then admit it, cows are the best.”

“Never. You could probably ride a sheep, actually, you’re so itty bitty it wouldn’t even be noticeable.”

Tommy’s voice rose in a protesting squawk and Techno found it a good time to interject. 

“As entertaining as your debate is, seeing as how you’re both wrong and horses are in fact the best livestock animal, I don’t think I can do my unpaid labor when you two are squabbling like wet hens.”

“Not with that attitude,” Tommy practically chirped as he opened a cupboard. “Also, you’re wrong, go fuck yourself.” 

“I don’t think Techno’s ever heard of multitasking,” Wilbur said, because he could never resist an invitation. 

“Now you’re ganging up on me? Bruh. What’s the world come to?” Techno shook his head. “I’m starting to think you should never be in the same room together. First that broken bones shtick and now this.”

“Well, we’re inseparable now,” Tommy said, “so ha ha. Nothing you can do about it.”

“Remind me later to lock one of you in the break room,” Techno said. Not that he really meant it. It was easier to keep an eye on them both when they were together. Also, it was - at the very least - not horrible having them together at all.

“Aw, big scary Technoblade’s afraid of our combined power.” Wilbur, completely out of nowhere because he’d been out of Techno’s view for the past few minutes, draped himself over Techno’s back in a fit of dramatics. “Whatever will happen to your beloved brand? It’s crumbling as we speak.” 

“Sure,” Techno said, “now get off before I stab you with this frosting tip.”

Wilbur giggled softly, but got off and went back to work if the clattering of dishes was any indication. 

Techno, still fighting off various instincts, only caught sight of Tommy on occasion. Mostly because every single time Tommy was glancing at him with puffed feathers, and it wasn’t helping any of… Techno’s nonsense. Like the urge to just scoop the kid up and tuck him somewhere secure. Like the break room. That didn’t have any windows, and there was only one door, which made it easily defendable. Plus, there were plenty of shelves to barricade the door with. 

Nope, nuh uh, none of that. Techno shook his head to banish the impulse. 

But eventually, he couldn’t ignore it any more because really anyone would’ve called Tommy out by now and Techno was trying to be as normal as he possibly could. 

“Tommy,” he said whilst leaned against the counter, “you keep looking at me. Do you need something?”

Tommy blinked as if startled, wings flaring out for a moment. 

“Huh? Oh, uh- no. No, you’re just… you’re being weird. Quiet.”

“I’m usually quiet,” Techno said flatly. “It’s called a personality trait.”

Tommy’s head ducked a little, wings flaring again. Aw, he was embarrassed. 

“No, you’re being quiet-er. Than normal. Normally you at least say sarcastic shit every so often, but you haven’t been doing that.”

“Maybe I’m tired,” Techno said. Which, okay, he kind of was. He’d spent quite some time putting his room back into order while fighting off the residual urge to cling on Phil. 

Tommy frowned a little. 

“Are you still fucking pissed from yesterday?” 

Techno ground his teeth for a moment. 

“Are you still holding in your chirping and stuff on purpose?” He asked tersely.

“I said that I don’t hate you,” Tommy said, voice rising. “I don’t get why you’re still caught up about it when I already said I forgive you.”

“Forgiveness doesn’t mean anything,” Techno said. He felt tense. “Why do you care so little about being in danger, huh?” 

“What does that have to do with anything?! I don’t care if you think me forgiving you doesn’t matter, I still did and you can’t do anything about it!”

Despite being in several different Moods, Techno couldn’t completely fight back a small smile. Because there was Tommy, the little loudmouthed spitfire. Kid had been messed with so much in the past few weeks that Techno had worried if he’d even get back to his normal self. Of course it was a stupid worry.

“Last I checked,” Techno said, “someone has to apologize first, and then you forgive them.” 

“Doesn’t matter!” 

“Yes. It does. Because why forgive someone who doesn’t deserve it? Who doesn’t apologize in the first place?”

Tommy scowled.

“Do you want me to think you’re some kind of horrible irredeemable monster?” 

“I want you to face the facts! The whole reason we’re in this mess is because you don’t take care of yourself, and if I try and do it chances are I’ll go bonkers and hurt you!”

“Are you sorry or not, bitch?!”

“I don’t know!” 

That, at last, Tommy didn’t have a reply for. 

“I could have hurt you,” Techno said, the words taking more effort than they should. 

“But you didn’t!” Tommy said. “I’m fine!”

“And if it happens again? Apologies come with the assumption that whatever warranted said apology won’t happen again.”

Tommy’s eyes flashed. 

“Do you think I give a fuck? What, are you sorry you spared the effort to make my life and my wings a little less shitty?”

“No,” Techno said immediately, “I’m not sorry I took care of you. But that has a risk, Tommy, a risk that something could go seriously wrong and you’ll get hurt.” 

A part of him wanted to keep Tommy safe, to keep him away from all the danger the world brought, and it would never truly work because Techno himself would never be fully under control. Heaven and hell both know I’m dangerous enough. 

“Look, bitch,” Tommy said, “I come to work and spend all fucking day around knives and hot stuff and the deadly poison that’s Wilbur’s ugly face-”

“Hey!”

“- and then I get in my mom’s car when accidents happen thousands of times a year and I make myself dinner knowing I might choke and die on a fucking ramen noodle and go to sleep not knowing if I’ll wake up the next morning.” Tommy practically stomped closer, prodding Techno in the chest. “Everything has a fucking risk to it! I don’t fucking care! I just want you to pull your head out of your ass and accept my fucking forgiveness ‘cause I kinda-” Tommy’s voice broke, words softening so only Techno heard. “I kinda liked feeling like someone wanted me. You’re one of the only damn people here that isn’t forced to be around me and it’s my fucking fault you went instinct-y in the first place pretending I was hurt.”

“No, runt-” Techno had a hand on Tommy’s hair before he could stop himself. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t do anything about it, you didn’t know.” 

Tommy sniffled, just a little, and Techno’s hand twitched with how violently he pushed back the urge to pull the kid closer. 

“I know I do stupid things without thinking about them,” Tommy croaked. His head was tipped down, one hand rubbing his face in what was definitely an effort to force back tears. “I know you could hurt me one day. I know I’m being pushy and annoying demanding you accept my forgiveness. But I’m so tired of losing people.”

Oh. Techno couldn’t help smoothing Tommy’s curls, catching himself before he did anything more just in case. 

“You’re a stupid fucking bitch moron,” Tommy muttered. He almost looked to be trembling slightly, like Wilbur got that time he went to a theater camp thing and didn’t see his family for two weeks. Of course, then he’d been basically velcroed to Phil or Techno for the next week. But Tommy didn’t have a brother, didn’t have a dad that prioritized him to an almost-terrifying degree. 

This fit into the explanation for how easily Tommy succumbed to stuff like Wilbur’s prolonged contact the other day, and how attached the kid had gotten to the rest of Wilbur’s family in only a few weeks. It wasn’t a very pleasant explanation for Tommy’s behaviour. But it did recontextualize a lot. 

Techno glanced up from Tommy to Wilbur, who was hovering a safe distance away. The two exchanged a look - Techno hesitant, Wilbur slightly nervous. 

“Everything okay?” Wilbur half-whispered half-mimed. Techno nodded, which Tommy wouldn’t see. 

“Why’re you so fucking warm,” Tommy mumbled. His head drooped a little, resting against Techno’s sternum. Ah. Techno spared another, more questioning glance for Wilbur. He got a nod that probably meant ‘yes, comfort the child’, and took that for the invitation/assurance he assumed it was. 

“Why are you so bony?” Techno asked in reply, dropping his hand to the base of Tommy’s neck and pressing just a little. Tommy, probably half-loopy on baby bird instincts by this point, immediately drooped against Techno and clung to him, arms not even fully closing around him. “You’re all skin and bones.” 

Tommy made a grumpy little sound.

“Am not,” he muttered, “I’m so big. I’m the biggest ever.” 

“Mhm. You sure you don’t want Wil?”

“Nuhuh. He’s spindly and shit.” Tommy grumbled softly as he readjusted. “Don’ wanna stand anymore.”

“I don’t think the floor will be very comfortable,” Techno told him. 

“Tommy!” Niki called from up front. “Can I get a refill for blueberry muffins?”

Tommy jerked, pulling away, and despite how badly Techno wanted to keep the runt close and safe safe safe he let it happen. 

“Gotta go,” Tommy said quietly, swaying a little and shaking his head as though to clear the fog. “I- sorry.”

Techno had to wrap his hands around the edge of the counter to stop himself from bolting after the little avian, tail flicking uneasily. Right. Tommy was at work. Tommy needed to do work because he was an employee for a totally legitimate business and he shouldn’t think otherwise so he should have some semblance of a work ethic. 

Techno forced his unemployed self back into gear. He’d only finished about half of the cupcakes he’d been working on previously, and he needed to do the other half no matter how much his hindbrain was demanding otherwise. 

He was squeezing frosting probably a little harder than necessary when Wilbur meandered over. 

“Your hands are shaking,” Wilbur noted. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“I have this funny feeling you’re lying.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because you’re being weird. Still. You’ve been acting off since yesterday.”

“No I'm not. I haven’t. This is normal.”

“Techno.” Wilbur didn’t sound annoyed. Didn’t sound upset. Just… tired. “I know it’s hard-”

“Yeah? You know? When was the last time we actually had a conversation?”

Wilbur made an odd kind of little sound. Like a lonely noise had been punched from his chest along with the air in his lungs. 

“Fine,” he said eventually. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

Good. Techno’s control was slipping by the minute and why had he even come in today he knew this was a bad idea with Tommy and Wilbur and everyone’s stupid instincts.

A few minutes later, Tommy returned with what sounded like a hop a skip and a collision with Wilbur. 

“Hey! Woah, the fuck’s got you in such a rush?”

“Zest for life,” Tommy replied primly. 

“Mm,” Techno hummed dryly without looking at them, “I dunno if you’re using that word correctly. Zest comes off citrus fruit.”

“Wrong!” Tommy said, and even if his voice was bright it sounded a little shaky. “It means everything’s so fantastic I just can’t help being the way I am. That’s what my mom says, anyway.”

“Something in particular happen to give your life extra zest in the five minutes you’ve been gone?” Wilbur asked, voice soft with affection. 

“Getting away from you,” Techno offered.

Wilbur huffed. 

“Um, excuse me, I’m Toms’s favouritest person in the whole wide world.” 

“Don’t exaggerate bitch,” Tommy said. “That’s Tubbo’s title.”

“Okay then, second favouritest.”

Tommy made a long, drawn-out noise of consideration.

“Nope,” he said finally. “That’s Ranboo.”

Wilbur gasped, because he could never resist being dramatic.

“Tommy! I thought we were bonding! I trusted you with my precious leather trenchcoat.”