Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy Innit didn’t hate vampires.

Shocking, he knows, growing up in a world that seemed to run on the rivalry between werewolves and vampires.

Most vampires hated Tommy for that reason, which makes them all tories, in his opinion.

What kind of person hates someone they’ve never met before just because of some age-old rivalry? It’s just not logical, then again, bigots usually aren’t.

Anyway, Tommy tried to treat the vampires he came across with respect. Treat others how you want to be treated and all, yeah? I mean, it usually doesn’t work very well once they notice the ears sprouting out of his head.

Tommy didn’t hate vampires, which is why he was going to a cafe run by them in vampire territory.

Honestly, he didn’t even know that vampires ate food. He thought they just drank blood! Apparently, blood is only necessary for survival, while food is more for recreational purposes.

Anyway, he heard a lot of great things about this cafe, and he wanted to go.

Yeah, Ranboo and Tubbo didn’t think it was a good idea either. They’re still coming along, though. Pricks.

“Tom, maybe– uh, maybe this isn’t such a great idea.” Ranboo tried, wringing his hands together.

Him, Tubs, and Tom were in matching letterman jackets. They looked so poggers and cool.

Tommy’s was red, of course; Tubbo’s was a deep forest green; and Ranboo’s was black—to match his brand, he would say.

“Ranboo,” Tommy looked him dead in the eyes, “don’t be a pussy. We’ll be fine.”

“If your definition of ‘fine’ is drop dead in some alleyway, then yeah.” Tubbo muttered angrily, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Tubbo, those sound like the misconceptions of a bigot.”

“They say similar shit about our kind, it’s fine. It’s why we all hate each other anyway.”

Tommy turned around exasperatedly, spreading out his arms. “That’s why we’re going here. To stop the fucking hate.”

Ranboo wilted at that, as he knew Tommy was right on some moral level, but he still looked hesitant. “I don’t want them hurting us because of what we are.”

“I’d protect you, you know that. I won’t let that happen.”

They knew that alright. Tommy and his stupid loyalty and selflessness when it came to his friends made it so he would throw himself into reckless danger with no regard to himself. He would become a meat shield for one of them if he had to.

It was so stupid and idiotic. It was so endearing.

Tubbo sighed deeply. “That’s part of the problem, bossman.”

“C’mon, don’t you trust me? Nothin’s going to happen. The cafe is right ahead!”

Tommy sped up like an overgrown puppy who had the zoomies. He sprinted up to a quaint little establishment a few feet ahead.

The place was almost picturesque with the cute striped awning and the pop out sight with the words ‘Sleepy Bois Inc. Coffee’ written on it.

There were little doodles around the words: a childish looking crown, a cartoon guitar, and a little stick figure crow. Ranboo thought it was the most adorable place ever.

Tommy’s tail was wagging a million miles a minute as he tugged the other two into the store. A bell sounded from overhead, and there was a soft ‘coming!’ from the back.

Tommy pressed himself up against the glass casing of pastries, rattling on to Tubbo and Ranboo about what he was thinking of getting. It was adorable seeing him so excited.

Three figures appeared from the back room door. The first was a tall, spindly guy with fluffy brown hair. The second was also tall, albeit a few inches shorter than the first, and he was muscular with long pink hair drawn into a high ponytail. The last was a shorter, older man with shoulder length blond hair and a kind face.

All three had red eyes, little fangs, and a pink apron on.

“Hiya, mates, what can I–” The blond man startled as he finally took notice of the three boys. Tommy was undeterred, though.

His tail was still wagging as his ears swiveled around. “Hi! Hi! I love your shop!”

The brunet stared at him with a tilt of his head. The pink-haired one remained impassive.

“What is this mutt child doing in our cafe?” The brunet hummed, nice words coated by a thick layer of disdain.

Tommy’s tail stopped wagging at that, and he stared at the man with a slight glare. “Didn’t know this shop was run by bigots.”

“We just don’t take kindly to your kind.”

The subtle ‘fuck you’ in the term ‘your kind’ started to piss Tubbo off. His best friend was excited to try this place out, and this bastard had the audacity to ruin it because they had tails? That’s fucked up.

The blond worker elbowed the other one harshly in the side. Whispering to him angrily.

“Sorry about him,” The man said warily, trying to placate the clear distraction growing on the teens in front of him, “what can I get for you all?”

“Some fucking decency would be nice.” Tubbo seethed, and Tommy looked at him worriedly.

Tommy was not here to start shit. He was here because he heard they had really good biscuits.

“My brother has never had a filter, ignore him, please.” The pink-haired one spoke up, voice strikingly deep. “Have you figured out your orders?”

“I’m not buying anything from a place like this.” Ranboo sneered. “We’re here for Tommy, and only Tommy, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he lost his appetite after meeting you guys.”

Tommy was bouncing on his toes, ears pinned and tail curled between his legs. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Please stop fighting.”

Ranboo and Tubbo dropped the hostility immediately. They didn’t care how the vampires felt about them, but they knew Tommy wanted to make friends.

The brunet rolled his eyes, muttering something about werewolves being weak-spirited followers before his brother shut him up with a glare.

Everyone’s eyes turned to Tommy, and he fidgeted under the gazes nervously. “Can I have, uhm, three honey biscuits and a hot black tea, please?”

“Sure, mate, that’ll be $15.75.” The blond man’s words were sickeningly sweet for the amount of hatred radiating off his coworker.

The other worker busied himself with getting the biscuits into bakery bags and warming Tommy’s tea. He slid them over on the counter without a word.

Tommy gave a twenty to the blond man, and received four dollars and a quarter back. The boy dropped it into the tip jar and grabbed his food.

“These people don’t deserve to be tipped.” Tubbo gritted his teeth angrily, but Tommy just shot him a look and sat down at one of the tables.

Tubbo and Ranboo slid into the cushioned chairs across from him, facing the counter with a glare. The cafe was empty, so there was nothing for the workers to do except watch and glare back.

It was really only the brunet who was a prick, but really, they’re all probably the same. They seem close knit anyway, and the others didn’t seem surprised at the bitch’s opinions.

Tommy bit into one of the fluffy biscuits, eyes immediately widening at the taste. “Oh my god, these are so good.”

Tommy’s ears perked up again and his tail picked up a beat. It thumped against the stool he was sitting on rhythmically.

The other werewolves smiled softly, and Tommy pushed the two other pastries into their hands. He gulped down his tea, and the others hesitantly took a bite of the biscuits.

They wouldn't be surprised if the brunet snuck in some chocolate or something when they weren’t looking.

The biscuits really were good, Tommy wasn’t lying—the pastries were light and fluffy in the middle with golden brown edges, and the layers inside were thin and buttery.

However, Ranboo and Tubbo kept their reactions more low key. This stupid bakery didn’t deserve any of their praise.

“You really seem to be enjoying those biscuits, kid.” A monotone voice rang out—pinky.

“Yeah, this shit is so fuckin’ good.” Tommy was spewing crumbs out of his mouth in excitement. “What do you put in here? Drugs? Cocaine?!”

The blond worker laughed brightly, while the brunet scowled harshly. Ranboo sank down in his seat, the earlier confrontation getting to him as he started to feel the heat of embarrassment.

As much as he loved Tommy, the taller had never been one for confrontation, and his anxiety just slammed back into him at full force.

He let out a high whine, higher than anyone other than werewolves could here, and Tubbo looked up at him worryingly. Tommy’s head whipped around so fast he must’ve gotten whiplash.

Ranboo’s ears were pinned back and his tail was pinstraight. All three of them got up wordlessly, picking up their trash and making their way to the door.

The bakery staff watched them in confusion, but they clearly noticed Ranboo’s distress, so they mostly let them go without fanfare.

Key word: mostly.

“What’s up?” The brunet worker asked condescendingly. “The mutts are leaving so soon? Going to cry home with your tail between your legs because three big bad vampires scared you?”

Tommy saw red.

It was one thing to make fun of him and call him a mutt. It was another thing to insult his packmate while he was in distress.

Tommy let Tubbo continue to lead Ranboo to the door, dropping his own hand from the taller’s shoulder.

As soon as the bell chimed signifying his departure, Tommy whipped around to face the cafe counter once more.

His fur stood on end as a low growl emitted from his throat. His teeth were bared—his canines being a lot larger and sharper than the puny ones vampires had.

“You listen here, blood sucker.” Tommy snarled. “You can call me whatever derogatory names that boosts your fragile ego, but you fucking leave my packmates alone, alright? Or else I’ll rip your cold dead heart out of your chest.”

The brunet tilts his head curiously, looking at Tommy as if he was nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. “Is that a threat?”

“Yes.” Tommy turned and walked out before he lost control enough to shift and go for the jugular.

His anger cooled as he stepped outside, Ranboo curled around Tubbo with his chin in his hair. They were both making low rumbly noises, and Tommy quickly joined the hug.

“Let’s go home, big men. We can all recover back at the den.” Tommy whispered, tugging on his best friend’s sleeves.

They stuck close to each other as they made their way back to werewolf territory. There was practically no difference between the territories, except for the inhabitants and public commodities—as werewolves liked parks far more than vampires did.

The walk back to their apartment was peaceful and went without hitch, Ranboo immediately crashing down into the blankets strewn about the couch when they entered.

Tubbo sat next to him sympathetically, while Tommy paced back and forth in front of them. Tommy’s ears were dropped in sadness, replaying the events of the day in his head.

The blond just didn’t understand why the two species hated each other so much. Whatever happened in the past was so old that almost no one remembered it, yet the anger still ran warm in the blood of the people.

He just wanted to have a nice outing with his friends while going to a cafe that he had heard good things about.

There shouldn’t be anything wrong with that. The fact the cafe was run by vampires shouldn’t matter.

If they never learned to get over themselves and coexist, how would things ever get better?

Tommy felt bad for causing Ranboo panic, and he knew him and Tubbo felt bad for feeding into the fight.

It was neither of their faults, though. The only person who was at fault was that bastard brunet, who started all that shit.

Tommy just wanted to eat biscuits, man.

The blond was still droopy when he finally stopped pacing and went to join his packmates in the den. He curled up next to Ranboo as a hand found its way into his hair.

Tubbo looked at him with pity, and Tommy couldn’t find it in him to bristle. Instead, he let his eyes shut, and he dreamed of biscuits and warm tea.

There wasn’t an apology that night besides the snuffling that resonated between them. There didn’t need to be, everything was already forgiven and forgotten.

That’s one of the reasons Tommy loves his pack. They know him beyond what words could ever describe.

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Chapter Text

“Tommy, no.”

“Tommy, yes!”

“You are not going back to that cafe just to prove that stupid bastard wrong.” Tubbo sounded exasperated.

“I’m not going to prove him wrong,” Tommy complained, “even though he was incredibly wrong about me being scared because I am a big man, and big men don’t get scared.”

Tubbo leveled him the look™.

“They have really good biscuits, okay?!”

Again, Tubbo just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ranboo poked his head out of the bedroom, clearly having heard the entire argument.

“Bring me back a lemon cookie!”

“Ranboo, don’t encourage him!”

“I want a lemon cookie!”

Tommy grinned like a devil, already grabbing his jacket and red sneakers. He was out the door before Tubbo could stop him.

The blond tugged the hood of the jacket over his ears, simultaneously keeping the chill of the early morning away and hiding his werewolf status.

Of course, there was still his tail and his eyes, but his tail was upright against the inside of his baggy jacket and he kept his head down to shield his eyes.

It wasn’t that Tommy wasn’t proud of what he was, it was more like he wasn’t looking to get jumped all alone without his best friends by his side.

Safety in numbers was a werewolf’s mantra. Being a ‘lone wolf’ was a death sentence.

Before he knew it, he had stepped over into vampire territory. Looking up, the sky was drab—all gray and cloudy. Tommy frowned; he should have brought an umbrella.

He could go back home for one, but that would take forever, and Ranboo would definitely beat his arse for returning without his cookie. Not to mention the horrors Tubbo would do for disobeying him.

Tommy nodded to himself, he would simply have to soldier on. The rain would be no match for his big werewolf self. He is simply too poggers.

Tommy’s ears perked up as he caught sight of the familiar shop, causing little lumps to be shown through his hood.

Without thinking too hard, Tommy shifted to a more human appearance, losing the tail and ears. Maybe if he looked less like a werewolf, that bitchy brunet worker would be nicer—if it’s the same workers as before, that is.

The blond was a werewolf with more control over his appearance than most. It was like a gradient. He could shift from fully human-looking to an entire wolf.

His preferred shift was just his ears and tail out, though.

The bell chimed as Tommy waltzed in, and the boy grinned up at it. His teeth were a little unnaturally sharp. He still wasn’t human, after all.

To his dismay, the same workers were stationed in the front. Tommy glared at the brunet harshly as he made his way to the counter.

“Your back.” The brunet bit out angrily, while his blond friend chirped a much happier, “Your back!”

“Yep.” Tommy said, popping the ‘p’.

“I’m glad, I was afraid Wilbur had scared you away. You seemed to really like our biscuits and it would be a shame if you never came back for more.” The blond was all smiles as he spoke, though his eyes were apologetic.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Wilbur, huh? Who the fuck names their kid ‘Wilbur’? That’s such a stupid name.”

“I bet yours isn’t any better, mutt.” Wilbitch spat.

The blond sent him a disapproving look, sighing like a tired dad and muttering under his breath. Tommy couldn’t catch it without his ears out.

“Who are you calling mutt?” Tommy lowered his hood, revealing only blond curls and no pointed ears. “Name’s Tommy, big man Tommy.”

The blond worker spoke before Wilbur could. “That’s a nice name. I’m Phil, and Mr. Quiet over there is Techno.”

“Two stupid ass names and one boring ass name; that’s gotta be some sort of record.” Tommy teased, grinning like a madman.

He was slightly afraid to piss Phil off, as the man had been the only one to be genuinely nice to Tommy and excited for him to be at the cafe, but luckily the man took it in stride and let out a loud laugh.

Techno looked unimpressed, but he let out a huff that Tommy will assume was amused. No, he is not gaslighting himself, why would you say that? That’s absolutely crazy.

Phil then asked for Tommy’s order, and the boy squinted up at the menu.

There were so many options: croissants, donuts, jelly donuts, meringue cookies, fruit tarts, the lemon cookies Ranboo wanted–

That’s not even mentioning the vast selection of drinks he could choose from. Tommy was buzzing in excitement—he was actually wiggling, which was an unfortunate side effect of not having a tail out to wag.

“Oh, would you cut that shit out? Quit fuckin’ moving.” Wilbur snapped, and Techno shot him a rather sharp look, causing the former to click his mouth shut.

“Kind of hard to not move when I put my tail away to appease your bigoted arse.” Tommy replied dryly, before turning back to Phil. “What do you lot recommend?”

“Sorry about him again. Our hot chocolate is actually the most popular item on the menu, if you want that.”

Tommy mustered the most deadpan, soulless expression he could, staring right into Phil’s eyes. “And will that be with werewolf-safe chocolate or…?”

“Uh– no?”

“Look, I know you guys hate me, but could you try to poison me in a less obvious way?”

Phil started sputtering, while Techno snorted out a laugh. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth when Phil whipped around to glare at him, but Tommy saw the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Yeah, dad, I didn’t take you for the type to kill our clientele.” Wilbur’s voice held a dry type of humor, and everyone immediately turned to him, not really expecting him to speak past insulting Tommy.

Phil recovered the quickest. “Shut up, you little shit.”

Tommy giggled, little squeaks leaving his mouth as his shift came out further without permission. A clawed hand was pressed into the side of his face.

As his laughs died down, Tommy slit open his eyes to see all three vampires looking at him, varying unreadable expressions on their face.

Tommy shuffled in place, uncomfortable with the way they were intently watching him.

“What are you staring at, you creeps? Don’t you know I’m a minor?” Tommy curled his lips back half-heartedly, blood rushing to his face.

At the blond’s words, Phil’s eyes seemed to dilate—whatever the fuck that means. Tommy really hopes it doesn’t mean Phil is about to lunge and kill him.

They probably wouldn’t risk the lawsuit in their shop, but with the way Phil is standing, though—knees bent and leaned forward—Tommy is still half expecting the leap.

Instead, Techno settles a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back while the man slots himself in front of the register. Tommy takes his cue.

“Can I have a matcha latte, a lemon cookie, two strawberry tarts, and a vanilla cupcake?”

Techno nods wordlessly, punching in the right numbers as Tommy hands over the cash. He slides the change into the tip jar again. It’s not like he needs it.

Wilbur is the one packaging his goods this time, and the man is less than careful. Phil and Techno had retreated somewhere into the back, leaving them alone.

Therefore, Tommy’s beautiful cupcake is squished on one side and his latte has a pathetic amount of whipped cream on it.

Tommy looks at the sweets dejectedly, but says nothing. It’s only when one of the strawberry tarts comes to him smudged that he speaks up.

“Um, excuse me?” His voice is tinny and nervous. “Is there a possibility I could get a different tart? This one is a bit smushed.”

Wilbur looked at him with the most scathing glare ever, and if Tommy’s ears were out, they would be pinned to his head. “What? That one’s not good enough for you? Looks perfectly fine to me.”

“It’s– it’s a bit squashed.”

“Tastes the same, though, yeah?” Wilbur’s voice was harsh and mocking.

“I guess…but this is for my packmate, an’– and I’d appreciate a nicer one.”

Wilbur’s mouth was pulled into a sort of sick, saccharine grin as he was about to shut Tommy down again.

Unluckily for him, Techno stepped out of the back room at that exact moment and looked rather unimpressed as he looked at the situation at hand.

He muttered a quick swear under his breath and took the goods back from Tommy’s hands swiftly, but not unkindly.

He made quick work of remaking the drink and picking much nicer pastries from the display case, putting them neatly in a pastel pink box and placing them into a bag for Tommy.

The boy took them gratefully, holding the sweets like they were his newborn child. Wilbur just rolled his eyes.

“Doesn’t take that much to not be a dickhead, dickhead. Maybe you should take some tips from your brother before you make everyone's lives harder.”

With a final, appreciative nod to Techno, Tommy was out the door. The werewolf flicks his hood up as he surveys the clouds overhead. They’ve gathered more since he left the apartment.

Like the devil’s curse, a raindrop hits Tommy right in-between his eyes, causing him to scrunch his face up petulantly.

“Stupid fuckin’ rain.” Tommy curses as he pulls his hood down further and curls around the box in his hand.

Without thinking too much about it, Tommy takes a large sip of his latte—marveling at the taste of course because that shit is divine—and breaks out into a sprint.

He is going to get these pastries home in one, not soggy, piece.

“Honey, I’m home!”

“Thomas Innit, shut the fuck up!”

“But I have the goods!”

“Stop making our neighbors think we’re druggies!”

Tommy stuck his tongue out as Tubbo emerged from deeper in the apartment. The former was absolutely soaking wet, but luckily, his body and the plastic bag kept the pastry box dry.

Tubbo hesitantly took the box from him and set it on the table. He took a step back as Tommy hung up his jacket and shook himself dry.

Moments after Ranboo burst into the room holding a towel. He looked frazzled.

“Oh, come on, I was so close.” He groaned, putting his face into his hands. “You couldn’t have waited two seconds so we could keep the furniture dry?”

Tommy grinned, shaggy hair in his face as he admired the droplets that found their way onto the couch, rug, and coffee table. “Nope!”

“Do you at least have my lemon cookie?”

“Yep, and a strawberry tart for each of you.”

“Pog.” Tubbo said as he started tearing open the box. “I still don’t forgive you for leaving when I specifically said not to.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “C’mon Tubs, I got you a tart as an apology!”

Tubbo ‘hmph’ed as he grabbed his tart from the box.

Tommy took the towel from Ranboo and started drying his hair as he made his way to the bathroom. “The cupcake is mine, fuckers! Hands off!”

The blond returned quickly after washing up, finding Tubbo sipping on his latte and a mysterious bite taken out of his cupcake.

Ranboo sat innocently on a stool, knees pressed up to his chest and a tart in his hand as if there totally wasn’t frosting on the corner of his mouth.

Tommy looked at him.

Ranboo looked back, eyes owlish.

Tubbo slurped loudly on the latte.

“Y’know I had to actually fight to get you a decent looking tart. The least you could do is not eat my beloved cupcake.”

Ranboo had the decency to at least look a little bit sheepish.

Tommy leaned forward and took a massive bite out of his strawberry tart. Ranboo screamed in absolute horror.

“You got my finger! Oh my god.” Ranboo screeched, toppling off the stool.

“Stop being a pussy, Ranboob.” Tommy barked back, mid-chew.

“I’m going to get rabies and die!”

“I don’t have fucking rabies, bitch!”

Tubbo looked between them, holding his own tart in his hand as he tossed Tommy’s now-finished drink to the side. “You fought for the tarts?”

Tommy turned to him while Ranboo continued writhing and sobbing on the floor. “Yeah, Wilbur—the bastard worker—ruined the first tart he gave me, so I had to ask for a nicer one.”

“And he gave one to you?”

“His brother did. That’s the less bitchy emotionless one, Techno.”

Tubbo nodded, content with that answer as he ate his tart. His eyes blew wide at the taste and soon there weren’t even crumbs left.

Tommy turned back when something grabbed his ankle—or rather when someone grabbed his ankle.

“Ranboo, I’m going to fucking curb-stomp you!”

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Chapter Text

Tommy had been going to the cafe every morning.

He went every morning before work, adding a bit of happiness to his boring as fuck office job. Not that he’s complaining about his job, though, as he works in some bougie skyscraper all the way into the city center.

It’s why Tommy—and by extension his brothers—are loaded to hell and back.

However, the money doesn’t make the job interesting. Tommy’s coworkers were all middle-aged killjoys who only loved alcohol and coffee, so Tommy spent most of his days in the office on autopilot.

Tubbo and Ranboo’s jobs were much more stimulating for them, although they got paid way less than Tommy—making him the breadwinner, aka the big man of the house. Ranboo worked in a daycare with little kids, and Tubbo worked as an assistant mechanic.

Unfortunately for them, Tommy’s the only one whose commute brought him past the Sleepy Bois bakery.

Tommy: 1; Tubbo and Ranboo: 0.

The self-proclaimed married couple, Bee and Boo, can suck it. If you put their names together it makes boobee, and that’s hilarious.

Anyway, Tommy went to the cafe every morning to grab a cup of coffee or a pastry he could eat on the rest of his commute to work.

Wilbur fucking hated seeing him that early, but honestly Tommy couldn’t give two shits. Phil seemed happy to see him at least, but maybe that’s because he’s a big tipper.

Today it was a Friday, and Tommy was really happy to be alive.

“Hel-lo!” Tommy bellowed as he swung the door to his favorite morning spot open, bell chiming overhead. “How are we doing today, boys?”

“Worse now that you're here.” Wilbur muttered through the bags of his eyes, yelping when Techno pushed his elbows—which he was leaning his face on—off the counter.

Tommy stifled a laugh, turning to the pink-haired man. “Good morning, Techno. It’s Friday!”

“That it is, pup. What can I get for you, today?”

Techno had taken to calling Tommy ‘pup’, and while the boy would vehemently protest being a child, he found he didn’t mind the nickname when the vampire said it with a slightly fond tone.

“A coffee—light, with six scoops of sugar—and a cheese danish!”

Techno wrinkled his nose, punching in the order despite his face. “I will never get over how freakishly sweet you like your drinks. Children like you shouldn’t have access to this much money and sugar.”

“I am not a child.” Tommy glared, handing over the money. “And don’t knock my drinks ‘til you’ve tried ‘em! They’re good.”

“Uh huh, sure kid.”

Techno handed Tommy the change. It was the same song and dance as always.

“Anyways, where’s Phil?”

Tommy put the money in the tip jar.

Techno talked as he started heating up Tommy’s coffee. Wilbur was no longer allowed to do it since he fucked up Tommy’s food so badly the first time.

“He’s doing a supply run today. He might call us if he needs a few more hands, but he’ll probably be back by the afternoon.”

Tommy hummed, tapping the beat into his thigh with his fingertips. “Tell him I said hi.”

“Sure thing.”

“And that he’s the only man ever.”

“Well, I don’t know about that one.” Techno chuckled.

“He’s literally so ancient that I don’t think there was ever a man before him, so…” Tommy trailed off with a smirk.

Now, normally, Wilbur would join in with a quip or two. He wasn’t friendly by any means, but he would often agree with Tommy if the blond was making fun of his brother or dad. It was like a neutral ground for them.

This time was not normal.

“Do you ever shut up and stop bothering my family?” Wilbur was as taut as a tripwire, and Tommy had set off his trap. “Don’t you have your own family to bother?”

Tommy snapped back. “Do you ever quit being a dickhead? Don’t you have something better to do than discriminate against minors?”

Hey, he was a child when it was convenient. None of them knew his real age anyway.

“No, not really when you keep butting your way into my fucking life!”

“I’m not here for you, bastard! I’m here for your fucking biscuits! Mi, mi, mi, I’m Wilbur and everything is about me because i’m the main character–”

“You’re such a fucking brat!”

“You’re such a fucking bitch! You don’t know anything about me, so stop acting like you do!” Tommy screeched.

They didn’t know what job he worked. They didn’t know that his only living family were Tubbo and Ranboo. They don’t know shit about his past.

Tommy is done with Wilbur acting like he’s got Tommy all figured out, because he fucking hasn’t.

Techno was watching them with wide eyes, seemingly lost on how to de-escalate the situation. Tommy snatched the coffee and pastry out of his hand and stormed off.

He rounded the corner, fur prickled in irritation. He shoved the danish in his mouth and could barely even appreciate the taste over the bitter ire on his tongue.

Tommy fucking hated Wilbur.

Tommy’s work day finished as usual. He gathered his stuff at five, waved goodbye to his coworkers, and let his boss know he was finished for the day.

Tommy walked out onto the streets of the city center—a neutral ground for all species alike—and started making his way home.

Werewolf territory hit him soon enough, and it felt like home.

He saw children running around in the park, tails wagging behind them. He saw shops bustling with people completing their end-of-day shopping: the werewolves carrying large paper bags in varying shift stages.

Control over shifting had always been strange to Tommy. He could control every aspect of his form, from the tips of his ears to the claws on his toes, and he rarely lost control if he was focused.

However, others, like Ranboo or Tubbo, couldn’t control their shifts at all.

They were stuck in what was known as the ‘standard’ form—which included two fluffy ears, a tail, a stronger sense of smell, sharper teeth, and slight claws.

It was normal for werewolves to not be in control of their form. Most people only ever changed forms and shifted fully on the full moon.

However, some people could change their appearance slightly. Commonly, this meant sharper claws and teeth, more fur around the face and hands, better eyesight, and sharper facial features from the body wanting to form a snoot.

Tommy had never seen anyone go past that. He’s never met anyone personally, nor seen anyone on the streets, who could shift like he did.

Tommy never saw anyone with paws or hocks like he was able to manifest. He could shift in and out of his wolf form with ease, yet he never saw anyone else chilling in the park on all fours on the regular.

The blond was an anomaly, but he didn’t mind. Shifting came as easy as breathing to him. If he wasn’t able to, he’s sure it would feel like drowning.

Here, in his home district, Tommy let his hood fall from his head, letting his ears out. He stayed in a standard shift, preferring to blend in.

People often stared at him for having more animalistic features than most should be able to manage.

It was a normal day, and Tommy was a normal kid. He was perfectly unnoticeable, and nothing was going wrong.

That was until he noticed a pack of teens huddled in some alleyway.

Tommy, as a teenager himself, would say he’s practically an expert on the subject. That is to say, he knew that teens hanging around in dark alleyways was bad news.

So, he does the only logical thing, and ducks into the alleyway himself.

“That’s what you get, freak.” One of the kids—the leader, Tommy assumes—spits on someone on the floor.

Great, they’re beating someone up; and they’re most definitely going to beat Tommy up if he intervenes. Considering there are four of them and one of him, the blond is more than a bit wary.

Tommy’s snapped out of his stupor by a pained hiss coming from the victim. He mentally curses out his bleeding heart as he steps forward.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, fellas,” Tommy holds up his hands placatingly as he draws the group’s attention to himself, “what’s the issue over ‘ere?”

“Mind your own bloody business.” One of the goons sneered. “What are you? A cop?”

Tommy tilted his head. “And if I was?”

The four boys tensed.

“Not possible. Cops ain’t around this area at this time. Not unless someone called ‘em. And no one’s even given us a second glance but you.” The leader spoke.

Tommy continued, stepping closer with an air of confidence, not letting a single drop of anxiety seep through the cracks.

“What if I told you one of your buddies ratted you out?”

Suspicious glances were cast between the group, and Tommy’s smile grew.

“They– they wouldn’t, ‘specially not for scum like him.” A thumb was jabbed behind the group. “Really, we’re doing these streets a favor, like ah, vigilante work. You should let us off with a warning.”

Tommy hummed, pretending to think about it. “Unfortunately, for a self-reported crime like this. Only the caller can be let off scot-free. It’s policy.”

The four tensed further, if that was even possible, and the glances at each other turned into hostile glares.

The leader bared his teeth at each of them, sending them all one last look before his self-preservation took over and he dashed out of the alley.

The others followed suit shortly after, shoving each other to get out faster. Tommy didn’t follow, having more important things to deal with.

He knelt down beside the crumpled figure on the floor, who looked like nothing more than a lump of brown fabric. They were wearing a trench coat, and it had little singes at the edges.

Shit, did these kids try to fucking set the man on fire?

“Hey, hey, are you alright?” Tommy asked worriedly, trying to turn the man over from where he’s laying on his side and facing away from Tommy.

The man coughs weakly and obliges, and only then does Tommy recognize him. It’s Wilbur. Fucking Wilbur.

Wilbur’s eyes go wide as he sees him. The man tries to shuffle into an upright sitting position against the wall.

“Tommy? Oh, fuck–” He devolves into another coughing fit.

Tommy pats him on the back. “Shit, man, what’d they do to you?”

Now that he’s sitting up, Tommy can really see the damage. Wilbur’s eyes are unfocused, and he has burns all around his face and neck, matching the damage done to his coat.

The boy didn’t even know vampires could be burned like that. They didn’t look like burns from the sun.

“Holy water.” Wilbur rasps out, and yeah, that explains it.

Tommy tugged his jacket off and threw it over Wilbur’s head. The man let out an inquisitive noise, but Tommy just shushed him.

The werewolf looped his arms beneath Wilbur’s upper back and legs, gathering him up in a princess carry. Wilbur squirmed half-heartedly, but he was really too exhausted and injured to do much.

“The jacket is to block out the sun.” Tommy explained, walking out of the alley and towards the direction of the den. “And to make sure no one sees what you are, no offense.”

“None taken. I’d rather not have a repeat of that.” Wilbur chuckled dryly.

Tommy walked the route home with ease. He knew every corner and shortcut in this district like the back of his hand.

“You’re much nicer to me when you're beaten half to death. Maybe I should just clart you every time I enter the cafe.” Tommy comments teasingly.

Wilbur groans. “You’re just as insufferable as always, brat. I don’t even know why you’re helping me, but I’m not complaining.”

“I’m helping you for the same reason I keep going back to a vampire cafe: I don’t believe in any of that bigoted shit.”

“Why not? It’s the norm.”

Tommy pursed his lips. “It shouldn’t be.”

The conversation died after that. Tommy managed to squirrel Wilbur up the fire escape of his apartment to avoid the front desk’s questioning stare.

Tommy plops the man down in Ranboo’s gaming chair—a pink thing that sits in the living room at a desk with a large PC on it. He takes his coat off Wilbur and hangs it up.

“You couldn’t have put me on the couch or something?” Wilbur looks annoyedly at the soft couch piled with throw blankets.

“No, that has den materials on it. Only pack members can touch it.” Tommy says absentmindedly as he gathers healing salves from the bathroom.

“So, like a nest?”

“What? We aren’t birds, big man.”

“No, I meant like, vampires have nests that only the coven are allowed to be in. It’s like the vampire equivalent of a den, I’m guessing.”

“Oh,” Tommy returns to the living room with the salves, “then yeah, like a nest.”

Wilbur hummed. “I never knew that about werewolves.”

“Well, our groups aren’t exactly coming together and exchanging information about ourselves, are we?”

“I guess not.” Wilbur laughed loudly, startling Tommy. He’s never heard the man laugh.

“Y’know…” A sly smile crossed Tommy’s face. “I’ve never heard you do anything but scowl and bitch before.”

Wilbur laughed again. “Well, now you have, child.”

“I’m not a child!” Tommy started to gently apply the ointments to Wilbur’s burns. “You should laugh more, it suits you.”

“Y’know I’ve never heard you say anything besides insults to me.”

“Shut up before I throw you back onto the streets.”

Wilbur gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would, bitch!”

Tommy kept applying the healing salve to Wilbur’s burns.

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Chapter Text

Conversation flowed easily between the two, void of any of the aggression that they held that morning. Wilbur was still a bitch, for sure, but maybe he was less of a bitch now.

Apparently, Wilbur was in werewolf territory because Phil had called for help with his shipment, and on the way back, the brunet decided to take a shortcut.

Like the real genius he is, that meant wandering right through werewolf territory alone, as Phil had to stay back to finalize the paperwork.

Normally, that would be fine. Territories aren’t official. They’re all social constructs held together by nothing more than the mutual agreement between parties. A sort of ‘you stay on your side and we’ll stay on ours’.

There’s no official laws that ban vampires from werewolf territory or vice versa, so Wilbur should theoretically be fine taking his shortcut home.

However, he must’ve forgotten that hate crimes, albeit illegal, were a thing.

Hatred between the parties was intense, man.

Tommy had only been fine in vampire territory because it was early in the morning and the streets were desolate, most vampires either sleeping in or already at work since before the sun rose.

Wilbur, on the other hand, decided to walk through werewolf territory during rush hour because he was a dumbass with a death wish.

Tommy made sure he knew it too, dabbing the ointment on a little harder. “You’re so stupid.”

Wilbur hissed, causing Tommy to flinch back. He may hold less hatred for vampires than the average wolf, but they were still fucking scary. Wilbur could easily bite Tommy and kill him.

Wilbur stopped hissing when he saw Tommy move away, tilting his head curiously. No, he didn’t care about scaring the boy at all, shut up.

“I know, I know, you don’t have to keep telling me.”

Tommy moved closer again, ignoring the questioning stare. “I do. How else is it going to get through your thick skull?”

Wilbur grumbled, allowing Tommy to finish treating him before his roommates came back. They worked later hours than he did, which Wilbur was thankful for.

Ranboo and Tubbo already hated his guts, and he’s sure being in their home would only amplify the feeling. Plus, the man was injured.

All around, it sounded like a good way to die.

Luckily, that wasn’t the case and they were alone. It was fascinating how much trust Tommy put in Wilbur to not kill him. He was honestly a fool.

He was a fool who was healing Wilbur, though, so the vampire decided not to push his luck and threaten him.

The boy was fun to talk to, full of snarky remarks and witty banter. It was no wonder Phil and Techno liked him so much; the kid was endearing.

Just as Tommy finished up with the salve, a question hit Wilbur.

“Why did you pretend to be a cop?” He asks as the blond puts away the jars.

“To scare those kids away, duh.”

“Obviously, but they didn’t strike me for the type to be scared of authority.”

“They aren’t.” Tommy returned from the bathroom and looked Wilbur in the eyes. “The fact that I was pretending to be a cop didn’t scare them. It was the fact I kept insisting one of them had reported the crime.”

“Huh?”

“Loyalty is a big thing among werewolves. We’re fiercely loyal to our packs, to the point we would kill and die for them.”

“Oh.” Wilbur stared contemplatively at the floor, before speaking up again.

“Y’know, vampires are the same. Covens are close-knit and ridiculously protective. Techno and Phil are not going to be happy when they find out what happened.”

Tommy barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that one. I get how clingy family can be when they’re worried about you.”

“Don’t remind me.” Wilbur groaned. “…I still don’t get what you were saying about the loyalty thing.”

“Betrayal is a big no-no among werewolf packs. When we bond, it’s a promise of protection—to stay together no matter what.”

“Like wedding vows.”

Tommy threw Wilbur a dirty look. “I guess, but you didn’t have to make it weird.”

“Of course I did.” Wilbur snickered.

“Anyways, those teens were clearly newly bonded, but they did it wrong. You could tell they didn’t trust each other.”

“So, you acted like one of them snitched to make it further seem like they couldn’t trust each other?”

Tommy nodded.

“Oh, that’s evil.”

Tommy giggled, a devious little thing. “They would have broken apart eventually. No one should ever even think their packmate is a traitor.”

“Being a traitor is like– unforgivable, yeah?”

“Yeah, your pack is supposed to be like your family. It’s why bonding is such a sacred thing.”

“Is there, like, a bonding process?” Wilbur had that curious look in his eye again.

“Kind of. You give each other gifts that symbolize—and therefore solidify—your connection as family.”

“So, it’s a less cool version of vampire turning.”

“No, it is so much more poggers than biting someone and injecting venom into them.”

“I dunno,” Wilbur grinned mischievously, “turning into a vampire is pretty cool.”

“People actually want to become one of you lot?”

“Statistically, most turnings are actually hunts gone wrong, if I’m honest.” Wilbur tried to ignore Tommy’s flinch.

The boy hated the thought that someone could be thrust into a life they don’t want just because a vampire got too greedy when feasting on their blood.

Imagine having to learn to live with and love the very people who took away the life you had? The thought was sickening.

Wilbur, as if seeing his inner turmoil, changed the topic. “What did Tubbo and Ranboo get you for your bonding?”

Tommy immediately brightened up at that, and his tail started to wag. He ran off to his room to get the items.

When Tommy returned he was holding a large potted plant and something round which he held in the palm of his hand.

The plant looked like something straight out of the Lorax, with its fluffy top and strange glow. Apparently, that was Ranboo’s gift, and it was actually an allium that was enchanted so that it would never die.

Tubbo’s gift, which Tommy revealed to be a compass, pointed to the other boy at all times, so Tommy could always find him no matter how far apart they were.

Wilbur thought it was a bit narcissistic, but apparently Tommy gave Tubbo one that pointed to him as well. There was a matching ‘Your Tubbo’, and ‘Your Tommy’, engraved on the back of each.

Okay, maybe it was a little bit cute after all, but he would never tell Tommy that.

First of all, the kid would bite his head off for even insinuating that he was cute. Second of all, Wilbur refuses to be soft around a mutt.

Sure, that mutt saved his life, but it was his kind’s fault that he needed saving in the first place.

“Shit, Ranboo’s on his way home now. I didn’t realize we were talking for that long.” Tommy was frowning at his phone screen.

Wilbur’s chest panged at the thought of leaving, but he got up and grabbed his shit regardless. Why would he ever want to stay and talk to a fucking dog? That’s ludicrous.

“Ah, I’ll get going now. I doubt I’ll be bothered again since it’s nearing dark.”

“Probably, but just be careful, yeah? Werewolves find safety in numbers, and certain packs will pick off any stragglers they see.”

“Since when am I not careful? I can’t believe you think so low of me. What happened to believing in vampire and werewolf equality?” Wilbur joked lightly, slipping out the same window that he arrived through.

And then, he was gone. He slipped into the shadows of the city’s streets and away from Tommy’s watchful gaze.

Ranboo arrived home shortly after with Tubbo following suit. The taller started on dinner while Tubbo plopped himself onto the couch.

When both boys eyed the out of place gaming chair suspiciously, clearly smelling the new and slightly burnt scent of another person, Tommy lied straight through his teeth.

If Tubbo and Ranboo noticed he wasn’t telling the truth, they didn’t say anything. They trusted Tommy with their lives.

It took Wilbur thirty minutes of convincing Phil and Techno that he was fine, and he still failed. All of his efforts landed him in the nest.

Or as werewolves would call it, a den.

“Maybe we aren’t so different, after all.” Wilbur murmured.

“Hm?” Phil ran his hands through Wilbur’s curls, as the man shut his eyes.

“Werewolves and vampires. Tommy took me to his place to patch me up, and I learned a lot.”

“Don’t you two hate each other?” Techno raised an eyebrow before his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t try anything did you?”

“No, no! Of course not. He was doing me a favor. We ended up talking, though, and maybe our species are more similar than we think.”

Phil started up a purr. “What do you mean?”

Techno and Wilbur purred back, and Wilbur struggled to keep up the purr while talking.

“Werewolves have dens that only their family can be in, just like our nest. They have a bonding process to become family, just like a turning.”

“Aw, Wil, are you starting to like the little werewolves?” Techno teased.

“Absolutely fucking not.” The man snorted in return. “They’re insufferable mutts, and we still have our differences.”

“Of course. We’re literally different species.”

“We’re better, too. Werewolves have stupid strict moral codes about betrayals. I mean, yeah it hurts and shit, but the mutts get all finicky about it.”

Phil hummed, encouraging him to keep going. Techno shuffled closer as well, both of them curious to know about their rival species.

And about their beloved Tommy.

Wilbur’s chest hurt as he twisted Tommy’s explanation into something that sounded mocking and nonsensical, but he couldn’t figure out why, so he squashed it down as he continued.

“Also, there needs to be complete trust for a bonding process to work. Do you realize how hard it would be to expand a coven if there needed to be trust? No wonder werewolf packs are so small.”

“I mean, our coven only has three members.” Techno grumbled. “It’s smaller than the average wolf pack.”

Wilbur hissed at him, swinging his arm out blindly from where he’s tucked into Phil to try and hit him. Phil quieted them both with a hiss, as if reprimanding two babies.

Wilbur pouted. “We’re the exception, not the rule. We could turn people by force if we wanted to, we just don’t.”

The brunet’s eyes drooped as his ear was pressed into his father’s chest, amplifying the purring.

He thought about the way Tommy showed him the gifts from his pack, so unlike vampires and their possessive nature. The boy was truly an enigma. He was way too trusting and kind for his own good.

He was really like a puppy, and it was adorable.

Something in Wilbur clicked. Why he enjoyed talking to Tommy so much. Why undying hatred wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when he thought of him. Why he felt bad being mean to him now.

Wilbur wanted to bring Tommy home and keep him there, safe as can be in the nest—or den, whichever Tommy would prefer to call it.

The boy was one of the only good ones of his species, Wilbur knew it. The rest of them were rotten, except precious Tommy. Today was what it took for him to see that.

Deep in his heart, he already knew Tommy would be his. He just had to be patient.

He would have his sunshine soon enough.

Tommy went to the bakery like he did every morning, this time a little lighter. He was hoping Wilbur and him had come to some sort of understanding the previous night.

What he was not expecting was for Wilbur to do a complete one-eighty.

“Toms!” Wilbur actually seemed excited to see him, and the nickname alone had Tommy on edge. “What can I get for you today?”

“Don’t call me that.” Tommy said bluntly and tried not to feel bad as Wilbur’s face fell. This man literally hated him a day ago, what the fuck. “Is Phil or Techno here?”

“Oh, uh– yeah! They’re in the back doing inventory.”

“Can you go get them?”

“I can serve you just fine.” Wilbur snapped, pouting.

Tommy looked at him unimpressively. “I thought you hated mutts like me. Wouldn’t want to force you to serve me, yeah?”

“Fine, be like that brat.” Wilbur disappeared into the back, presumably in search of Phil or Techno.

Proving Tommy right, Techno appeared moments later, no Wilbur in tow.

“Hi, pup.”

“Hi, Techno.”

Techno gave him a once over. “Wilbur didn’t try anything did he?”

“Nah,” Tommy shrugged, “I shooed him away before he even took my order. He was being all weird n’ shit, though.”

“What kind of weird?”

“Like, nice? I didn’t think Wilbur being nice was a thing, man.”

“Didn’t you guys have a whole hangout at your place yesterday?” Techno snorted, amused.

“Yeah, but like, I thought that was a temporary truce. A thanks for not leaving him to die, y’know?” Tommy thought back to what he was thinking of when he entered the cafe. “I figured we would be more civil with each other going forward ‘cuz of it, but I did not expect fucking nice.”

Techno hummed as he came to a stark revolution: Wilbur had claimed Tommy.

The brunet was a man of extremes, and last night, a switch must’ve flipped. If he wasn’t hating Tommy, then he was adoring him.

Did it make sense? No. Did Wilbur ever make sense? No.

He was probably just coming to the realization Phil and Techno had come to ages ago. Tommy was nice, and likable, and annoyingly endearing.

He must have been pushing down the feeling in favor of hating werewolves as a whole. It didn’t make sense when there was an outlier to something Wilbur had considered fact his whole life.

It didn’t make sense that Tommy was kind when werewolves were supposed to be cruel.

So, he hated Tommy for being confusing; and now he wants him because he realized he truly enjoys the boy’s company.

Techno knew his brother more than he knew himself. He knew how irrational Wilbur was, and how easily he got himself attached to things that he really shouldn’t get attached to.

Techno knew how to let go, Wilbur did not.

He knew how possessive Wilbur could be, but also how much love the man harbored. He knew that Wilbur would do anything to get what he wants, and what he wants right now is to cherish Tommy.

Techno knew all this while Tommy stood in front of him, squinting at the menu and being none the wiser.

His fate was already sealed. Techno just hoped Wilbur had enough patience to wait for what he wanted.

Or else things were going to get real ugly.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Tommy rambling off his order.

“A caramel latte and a strawberry donut please!”

“Sure, anything else?”

“Nope!”

Techno watches Tommy leave with his order, a pep in his step and a smile plastered on his face. He hopes his brother will bring Tommy home soon. He quite likes the boy.

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Chapter Text

Wilbur had been increasingly friendly towards Tommy these days, and frankly, Tommy didn’t trust it.

It felt genuine, but then again, vampires were often known for their deceit. It was weird, not bad-weird exactly, but weird-weird.

Wilbur could be plotting his death for all he knew, slowly luring him into a false sense of security before striking.

It set off Tommy’s mental alarm bells, because there is no way someone changes that much after one night.

So, Tommy kept his distance. He shut Wilbur down every time the man tried to serve him, and asked him to fetch one of his coworkers instead.

In the beginning, the man looked irritated, like his plan was foiled—which was exactly what Tommy was expecting if Wilbur was planning to kill him or some shit—but after a while the man just looked sad.

The last time Tommy sent him away, he sighed deeply and slowly made his way to the back, practically looking like a kicked puppy with the way his eyes were glassy and he was pouting.

No, Tommy didn’t feel bad, he was too much of a big man to feel pity, but as a self-proclaimed empath Tommy did not like the negative vibes.

(He definitely felt bad. He’s sending Wilbur away for being nice! Isn’t that what he wanted in the first place?)

Tommy still didn’t want to risk being backstabbed. Again, betrayal was a big thing to werewolves, and full, undoubtable trust did not come easy, despite how friendly the blond was.

If Wilbur was the only one at the counter again, Tommy would send him away like he always does.

It’s so strange how in the beginning of Tommy’s visits all three of them would be up front, or they would take shifts with no less than two at the counter, but now it was always Wilbur alone in the mornings.

Why would they keep stationing him there when they know that’s when Tommy comes in? Don’t they know he’s just going to send him away?

Approaching the cafe, Tommy saw a flash of Wilbur’s curls through the window. Fucking great.

To make things worse, he wasn’t alone, there were other customers in the shop.

Other customers weren’t exactly unusual, after all, it was a famous coffee shop, but they did inconvenience the blond.

When other people were there, he had to duck into the alley next to the cafe. Technically, he didn’t have to, as it wasn’t illegal for him to be there, but he really hated causing a scene.

If others came in while Tommy was already in the shop, well, he’d handle that when it comes to it; and by Prime he is praying that it doesn’t come to that.

As usual, Tommy dips into the alleyway next to the shop, blending in with the shadows and pretending he’s a shady homeless man.

It was a warm day, with a nice cool breeze, and the cafe door was propped open with a little wooden doorstop shaped like a crow. Tommy thought it was very on-brand.

Through the open door Tommy could hear the conversation flitting around inside. Normally, he wasn’t one to eavesdrop—not his business not his problem, you know—but that changes as soon as he realizes the conversation is about him.

“Got yourself a little parasite I heard?” One of the customers say, voice gruff and jovial. “A little werewolf who likes to come ‘round your shop.”

Tommy’s breath stops in his throat as he presses himself farther into the wall, pulls his hood a little farther down his head.

They can’t be talking about him, can they? He didn’t think anyone ever saw him in the shop.

Then again, what other werewolf would visit a cafe in vampire territory regularly? Tommy’s the only one stupid enough for that.

“What?” Wilbur’s voice is sweet as it filters out the door, and Tommy is ready for his biting words.

The worker may have started being nice to Tommy to his face, but that doesn’t mean anything when the blond is not there; and Tommy can never let himself forget about how much Wilbur hates his kind, no matter how sweet the man acts around him.

There’s nothing stopping Wilbur from talking shit behind his back. There’s no facade for him to keep up around other vampires who hate Tommy.

“Oh come on! You know the one. I always see him with some sort of purchase from yer cafe. He must be annoying ya with how much he goes ‘round.” The same vampire laughs, the other customers with him joining in.

“He’s young, blond, and has a real shiny coat on him.” Oh, now he knows they’re definitely talking about him. Tubbo and Ranboo always go on about how soft and nice his fur is.

One of them pipes up in a higher voice than the first, giggling through his words. “Maybe we should drink him dry and take his pelt. I’ve been meaning to get a new rug.”

The other vampires laugh harder, and Tommy shivers. He’s heard about vampires hunting werewolves for their pelts, but he thought that was some black market type of shit.

I guess he’s their demographic, though: young, stupid, and with an incredibly well-groomed coat.

“Shut the fuck up.” Wilbur’s snarling voice pulls him out of his head.

The tone is what he expected, but not the words. Wilbur should be agreeing with them, going on and on about how much of an annoying mutt Tommy is, but instead he’s defending him.

It doesn’t make sense! How can Wilbur hate him one day and adore him the next? There’s no way it’s genuine, nobody switches at the drop of a hat like that.

“You ever say a fucking hand on him and I’ll drive a stake through your heart myself.” Wilbur spits, and the customers visibly flinch back.

They clearly didn’t expect Wilbur’s words or mindset, hurriedly making their way out of the shop and down the street. Not one of their gazes pause and linger on Tommy.

Wilbur’s words are confusing, to say the least.

On one hand, Tommy feels a small flicker of warmth in his heart—it’s always nice to be protected. On the other hand, Tommy is acutely aware of how dangerous Wilbur is and how much damage he can cause, to the point where the man is able to scare his own kind like that.

If he can do that to another vampire, who should theoretically match him in terms of given skill, what could he do to Tommy?

Tommy can hold his own in a fight against other werewolves, but in a fight against an angry vampire he has no chance.

On a societal level, werewolves and vampires were equal in terms of territory and power. However, vampires were the ones with ancient magic. Werewolves were only able to hold their own in the fight because of their sheer numbers, nothing else.

A single vampire could take down several wolves, and if Wilbur had the strength to scare multiple vampires, then Tommy didn’t have a chance.

They could feel Wilbur’s magic in a way he couldn’t, not unless he was physically touching the man.

Wilbur could kill him in a few seconds flat, and the thought was sobering. Tommy’s heart rate started to pick up, and his breath stuttered.

But, Wilbur had protected him. He wouldn’t have done that if he wanted to kill Tommy, but at the same time, maybe he was saving Tommy’s blood for himself.

Tommy’s ears went flat as confusion rattled around in his brain. Why couldn’t Wilbur just make sense?

Maybe Wilbur deserves a chance for protecting him, and maybe then Tommy will get to find out what he’s all about.

Yeah, that’s what he’ll do, just to cure the confusion in his head.

“Hey, Wilbitch,” Tommy said with bravado—he still had a reputation to uphold after all, “it’s you again in the front, ay?”

“It would seem so, yes.” Wilbur had a stupidly wide grin on his face, but his eyes held a tinge of sadness, like he was already anticipating being sent away.

Too bad Tommy was full of surprises.

Tommy let out a long-drawn sigh. “I’m getting quite sick of the others, so I guess you can be my server today.”

Wilbur brightened considerably, perking up behind the register. “Really?”

“Don’t let it get to your head. Your forehead and ego are already big enough.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pup.”

“Don’t call me that. Only Techno can call me that.” Tommy tail lashed around in aggravation, he wasn’t going to let everything slide.

Wilbur at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry Tommy. What can I get for you?” His apology sounded genuine too. What a weird fucker.

“A london fog.” Tommy said, before he tacked on: “Please.”

He really did not want Wilbur to poison his drink because he was rude. He did not trust a nice thing that came out of this man’s mouth.

“Sure! Coming right up.” Wilbur chirped, way too chipper to be working retail at eight o’clock in the morning.

Tommy watched him carefully as he went to work preparing the drink, but the man did nothing suspicious. He didn’t reach for any unnamed bottles or block the work counter with his body.

The blond unconsciously relaxed, his racing heart calming down. He can’t believe he’s scared of a stupid vampire. He’s not a pussy.

He knew his drink wasn’t tampered with, and he’s sure if it was, a complaint to Phil or Techno would take care of it.

Unless they were tricking him too. They were Wilbur’s family after all.

Tommy shook that thought from his mind. He would’ve known by now. Phil and Techno were nice and trustworthy people.

While Wilbur had his back turned to the werewolf, he smiled to himself. He had gained a tentative trust with his kid, and he wasn’t keen on breaking it.

Tommy seemed nervous, and Wilbur could feel the beating of his heart—how it sped up if Wilbur moved too fast—so the barista made his actions slow and predictable.

He made his posture loose and relaxed, keeping his hands where Tommy could see them. He couldn’t scare him off now. His boy was so close.

Wilbur’s heart trilled he felt Tommy’s heart slow.

As much as he loathed to admit it, the earlier customers were right. Tommy’s fur was gorgeous.

It was a golden shade of blond, reflecting the sunlight in a way that made Tommy shine. The fur looked soft and thick, and Wilbur wanted to run his hands right through it.

Unfortunately, he knew Tommy would not take that well right now, but he assured himself that in time, he could coddle Tommy all that he wanted. He would hug and adore his little brother.

For now, he makes his boy the most amazing london fog he can, measuring each ingredient with the utmost precision. Tommy was worth the effort.

He felt blue eyes on him, and a glance over his shoulder confirmed that a certain werewolf was staring at him with wide blue eyes.

So, he made sure Tommy could see every bottle and ingredient he grabbed, even ensuring that the label was facing towards the counter when he picked it up.

He had to know Wilbur wouldn’t try anything. He had to know he was safe.

Then, he could come home.

Phil sighed like the tired old dad he is. He was watching his son from the back room, happy now that Tommy was starting to trust him.

Wilbur had been moping around the house these past few weeks, complaining to anything that was alive about how Tommy didn’t want to talk to him.

Techno glanced up at his father, huffing in amusement. He knew Tommy and Wilbur would get along, they’re both chaotic and so, so annoying, but his dad wasn’t as sure.

Phil was always a huge worrier, being the overprotective father and sire he is, and he was worried about his younger son.

Re: younger, not youngest. Not for long, anyways.

Wilbur had been the moodier of the two kids, going through extreme highs and lows. His mental stability was shit, frankly, and the family was hoping Tommy would help keep him anchored.

It looked like it was working, as Wilbur seemed much happier around Tommy—happy in the sense that he was genuinely happy, not stuck on some high.

Unfortunately, this meant the family was very keen on keeping Tommy around. They would do anything for Wilbur, after all, and Tommy could learn to love them if need be.

They really hoped it wouldn’t come to that, though. It would be so heartbreaking to not see the beaming smile on Tommy’s face while he was with them, but Phil thinks he could live with a sad Tommy, as long as he had a happy Wilbur.

Techno didn’t care much at all. His priority was keeping his family, and anyone they cared about, safe, both from others and themselves.

Safe as in physically, by the way. Techno was not qualified to deal with anyone’s shitty mental state. Emotions make him uncomfortable, although he tries for Wilbur and Phil.

And he guesses Tommy too now.

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Chapter Text

Wilbur was a strange fellow.

Tommy knew that from the start, but getting to know Wilbur had really solidified the point.

The man had gone from hating him one moment, to being nice to him the next. Tommy still wasn’t sure if it was genuine; it seemed like it was, but it could very easily be a ruse.

Leaving Wilbur alone with the werewolf he supposedly hated with no cameras around? That sounds like the opening to a murder mystery movie if you asked him.

Wilbur would still call Tommy ‘mutt’ or ‘dog’ on occasion, but it sounded like a tease. Like the words were some grand inside joke Tommy was in on and not the nasty words the worker used to throw at him.

No matter how soft and jokingly Wilbur said the words, they still left a sour taste in Tommy’s mouth. It was a reminder that Wilbur should, and probably still does, hate him.

As much as Tommy wished Wilbur liked him and didn’t hate him for his species, he knew better than to believe it.

Wilbur was also very tactile—clingy, if you will. He would take Tommy’s money with both hands, resting one of his on top of Tommy’s. He would also pat the blond’s back or ruffle his hair casually.

The touch was nice, but it set Tommy on edge. This wasn’t one of his packmates that he cuddled with, or a coworker who would shake his hand. This was a very deadly vampire who hated werewolves.

It felt like he had to repeat that mantra to himself more and more these days, as Wilbur seemed more and more like a friend.

When Tommy walked into the cafe that morning, there was unease bubbling in his gut. He pushed it down and forced a smile as he saw Wilbur.

“Big dubs, how are you, man?” Tommy shouted, his ears perking up.

“I’m good, I’m good, gremlin. What are you getting today?” There was something dark swirling in Wilbur’s red eyes, and Tommy quickly looked away.

He was fine. Wilbur wouldn’t do anything, right?

“Well, I was thinking you could recommend me something, yeah? It better be better than your shit fashion taste, though.”

“Shit fashion taste?!” Wilbur gasped loudly. Tommy is scared of his fangs. “You better not be talking about my trench coat!”

Tommy’s ears flattened unconsciously, but he tried to keep his big man facade up. He’s not a fucking pussy. “Of course I’m talking about your shitty coat. It makes you look like a right nonce—a real wrong’un.”

A prickling sensation worked its way up Tommy’s spine, causing his hackles to raise. It made him acutely aware of the power dynamic between the two.

“Tommy, what the fuck.” Wilbur’s voice was softer than Tommy expected, and the vampire eyed his ears cautiously. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just imply that I flash kids at the park.”

Wilbur’s voice was a mix of disgust and anger, and Tommy knows it’s a joke and Wilbur’s not actually angry at him, but his tail ducks between his legs anyway.

Wilbur is teasing him and Tommy is scared.

“You said it, not me.” Tommy’s resolve faltered on the last words, voice cracking.

If Wilbur wanted Tommy gone, there wouldn’t even be a blood trail. A moment passed where neither person said anything.

“Tommy, what’s wrong?” Wilbur’s eyes were full of concern.

The blond’s gaze snapped up at the soft tone of the man’s voice, but it quickly went straight back down to the tiled floor. “Nothings wrong, big man.”

It’s so stupid. He shouldn’t be scared of Wilbur. The man was literally in his debt.

“Tommy.”

Wilbur’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. Get out, get out, get out. Never trap yourself alone. There’s safety in your pack–

“Anyway, about that recommendation, I was thinking–”

Wilbur’s hand grabbed Tommy’s chin and forced him to look up and meet the vampire’s eyes. They’re dark, and Tommy knew by the way Wilbur was gripping the counter that he had fucked up.

Never let yourself be caged in by a bigger person. To be caged is to die.

“Darling,” Wilbur started, achingly sweet for the fire raging behind his eyes, “I’m not going to ask again: what’s wrong?”

Tommy flinched—a whole body flinch that jerked his head and caused the brunet’s hand to tighten. It was bordering on the verge of pain and Tommy whined.

His ears and tail were trembling, and his hands were shifted so his claws were out. The werewolf closed his eyes tight, maybe it’ll be quick.

Wilbur studied him for a moment, searching his face for something Tommy didn’t know. Tommy flinched again when the vampire pushed his chin further up, and it all hit Wilbur in a split second.

Tommy was scared of baring his neck. He was scared because Wilbur was a vampire.

Or maybe he was just scared of Wilbur.

“Oh,” Wilbur’s grip loosened significantly, but Tommy didn't dare move an inch, “darling, I’m not going to hurt you. I would never.”

Two blue eyes opened and stared at Wilbur disbelieving. They were glossy with tears.

“I would rip out my heart before laying a hand on you.” He withdrew his hand and rested it at his side.

With the vampire’s hand gone from his face, Tommy got some of his bluster back. Gods, he was really overreacting. “Well– well, you wouldn’t be able to get me be– because I’d kill you, of course. Straight to the jugular, y’know?”

Wilbur hummed thoughtfully. “Of course, of course, big man.”

Tommy straightened up—he didn’t even realize he had curled in on himself—and cleared his throat. The silence was suffocating as Wilbur tried to dissect the boy with his eyes.

“So, what’s actually wrong, darling?”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” Tommy bit out before he could stop himself. “And I told you: nothing’s wrong.”

Wilbur hummed, displeased. He clearly knew Tommy was lying, but let it go anyway. The werewolf let out the breath he was holding.

“I– I have to go.” The blond stuttered, rushing out of the establishment.

“Wait!” Wilbur cried out, frantic. “You didn’t order yet!”

Tommy was gone before anything else was said, leaving in his wake an open door and a jingling bell. Techno emerged from the back of the building, scowling.

“Wilbur, what the fuck did you do?”

Tommy didn’t go back to the cafe for a few days. He wasn’t scared, of course! He was just being cautious, you know?

Okay, maybe he was a little bit scared.

Scratch that, he was petrified.

He shouldn’t have been so trusting, he shouldn’t have let Wilbur get so close, he shouldn’t have displayed his fear so clearly.

Tommy should’ve been better, but he wasn’t, and now he’s paid the price.

Wilbur knows where he fucking lives for gods’ sake! How could he be so idiotic?

“It’s okay, Tom.” Ranboo soothed, even though it really wasn’t. “I doubt he’d chase you down. You’re not worth it, no offense.”

“If he does I’ll fucking kill him for touching you. No one messes with my family.” Tubbo growled, tail lashing wildly from where he’s tucked under Tommy’s arm.

Tommy held Tubbo tighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay, Tom, we know you didn’t.” Ranboo said as he curled around the two of them.

“And there’s no use dwelling on the past. We just have to plan for the future and make sure we can fuck him up!” Tubbo cheered.

“You sound way too excited about hurting him.”

“He’s a right bastard!”

“Touché.”

Tommy still looked dejected in the middle of their cuddle pile. No doubt blaming himself for everything that went wrong.

“I really liked that cafe.” He whispered to no one in particular.

Tubbo and Ranboo shared a look. “It would be safer if you stopped going.”

“I know.”

“But maybe we can work something out.”

“I kno– huh?” Tommy suddenly looked a lot brighter, and yeah, his smile was worth risking their lives for. His ears even straightened up and swiveled back and forth with anticipation.

“As long as we know you’re safe, you can still go to the cafe.” Ranboo smiled.

“I made you a panic button!” Tubbo chirped, tail wagging as it always was when he showed off his inventions. “It’ll alert us if you’re in danger, and it blows up!”

“It does what? You didn’t tell me that!” Ranboo cried incredulously, while Tommy stared at the button in pure awe.

Tubbo proceeded to show them a tiny plate on the back of the button, which would cause the machine to explode if someone pried it off.

It was perfect for werewolf claws and not-so-perfect for blunt vampire fingers.

Ranboo handed Tommy a much less cool vial of holy water, and the boy only felt a little bad about using it on Wilbur.

Sure, maybe the man had trauma from being attacked with holy water before, and sure, maybe Tommy had witnessed it firsthand; but if Wilbur was going to be all creepy and shit, then the dickhead deserved having his own trauma wielded against him.

“Guys, all these emotions and thinking and big man shit are making me hungry.” Tommy pouted, a jovial lilt to his voice.

Tubbo smiled like Tommy had just let him commit arson. “I guess we should go on a bakery run then.”

“To hell with them!” Ranboo said gleefully, far too nonchalant for the chaos they were definitely about to cause.

Tommy jumped up from the couch, grabbing the three of them matching hoodies. He tugged his own over his head impatiently.

Ranboo chuckled, getting up to grab their house keys and snack money, while Tubbo grabbed their other necessities.

That is to say he was loading himself the fuck up with weapons.

The pack made their way to the cafe, giggling and smiling like the stupid teen boys they are.

“Please, please, please, Tubbo.” Ranboo begged, putting on a pleading face.

“I say we let the man do it, Tubso. He’s very convincing.” Tommy nodded along to Ranboo’s rambling, and the latter immediately turned to him and vigorously shook his head up and down in turn.

Tubbo glared at them both.

“C’mon, please, Tubbo. For me?”

“No!” Tubbo shouted, clasping his hands over his ears. “You cannot put m&m’s in our lasagna tonight!”

Ranboo wailed like a banshee. “Why not?!”

“First of all, in what universe would that ever taste good?! Second of all, we are fucking werewolves. We can’t eat m&m’s!”

“We can.” Tommy nodded sagely. “But we can only do it once.”

Tubbo screamed in frustration.

“We have to make this lasagna count, Tubs. You gotta understand.” Tommy placed a hand on Tubbo’s back sympathetically as the boy keeled over in exasperation.

“I’m babysitting fucking children!” The brunet flailed his arms wildly, knocking the other two away.

In retaliation, Ranboo picked the boy up by his armpits like an unruly cat, keeping him at arm's length. “You are the only one here who’s child-shaped.”

“And you’re the only one acting like a child right now, throwing a tantrum in the street.” Tommy agreed.

“Tommy and Ranboo, I swear to fucking Prime almighty, god help your souls–”

“Is everything alright out here?”

All three heads whipped around to stare at the newcomer: a vampire with sandy blond hair and a white face mask. He looked like an average dude, expect for the hoodie he was wearing, which was a god awful shade of neon green.

Tubbo and Ranboo immediately tugged their hoods over their heads, while Tommy shifted away his ears. It didn’t matter that the man probably already knew what they were.

Tubbo cleared his throat. “Uh– yeah, sorry. We’re just headed to the Sleepy Bois’ Cafe.”

“It’s about a block behind you.” The man states, tilting his head. “You’re going in the wrong direction.”

“We passed it?!” Tommy exclaimed. “Tubbo, what the fuck?”

“Don’t blame me! I wasn’t in charge of directions. Blame Ranboo!”

“I wasn’t in charge either! I was following you guys!”

Tommy groaned, and the vampire badly stifled a laugh.

“I’m heading there right now anyway, so we can walk together. Name’s Dream.”

“Well, you’re a filthy American, that's why!” Tommy all but screeched, entering the cafe.

Tubbo and Ranboo were giggling as they trailed after them, hoods long forgotten and ears out on display.

Dream gasped, mock-offense crossing his face. “What’s wrong with Americans?! Ranboo is American.”

“He’s a wrong’un, too! I bet you people say ’pants’, ugh.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this!” Ranboo cut in, startled, but he was promptly ignored by the bickering duo.

Tubbo laughed harder at his indignation and nudged their shoulders together teasingly. Ranboo gave him an annoyed look before pushing his chin up and turning away from the shorter.

Tubbo’s face was scandalized as he puffed out his cheeks and tugged on Ranboo’s sleeve, but the other remained firm in staring at the white ceiling of the cafe.

He refused to be bullied by the vertically challenged.

“What else are you supposed to call it?!” Dream exclaimed, voice raising an octave.

“They’re trousers.”

The vampire let out a wheezing laugh, like he physically couldn’t get enough air out of him at once.

The werewolves started laughing soon after, and they were all doubled over as they approached the counter of the bakery.

The joke wasn’t even that funny, but every time Dream laughed like a tea kettle, Tommy started making a sound like a stuck spray bottle, and then Tubbo started scream-laughing like he just saw his family die, and Ranboo would laugh so hard he started coughing like he was a victorian child with pneumonia.

Then, the vicious cycle would repeat.

None of them had even acknowledged Wilbur, who was watching the interaction with wide, dark eyes.

He looked pissed.

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Chapter Text

“Dream.” Wilbur’s hands were clenched tightly around the metal mixing cup he was holding.

“Wilbur.” The man said smoothly, leaning on the counter. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I work here.” Wilbur’s voice was short.

The hostility didn’t deter Dream though, and he continued, unphased. “Oh, really?”

Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to snuff his laughs. A few seeped out through the cracks, and the two vampires glanced at him briefly—Dream with pride, and Wilbur with something indiscernible.

Some might say it looked a little like jealousy.

Wilbur didn’t reply to Dream, continuing to stare at the man with such utter hatred that it made Tommy antsy. He moved closer to his brothers, getting defensive in case things went south.

For a second, Wilbur’s eyes flicked to him, and they softened ever so slightly. His mouth turned down, and a pout formed on his lips. He looked like a kicked puppy.

Just as he was about to put down the mixing glass, Techno and Phil emerged from the back.

“Ah, Dream, it’s good to see you!” Phil greeted jovially, easily taking the place of his son at the counter.

Techno merely nodded at the other vampire, acknowledging his presence quietly and respectfully. Dream nodded back and exchanged some pleasantries with Phil.

He took a moment to look at the menu before ordering a few things for him and his coven. The whole time Techno was staring at Tommy with a really weird expression.

He was cleaning the counter by the coffee machines, but his eyes were still fixated on the boy while he wiped the marble down.

His eyes weren’t open that wide, but they were almost completely black. None of his red irises were visible, and it was a bit unnerving.

It was almost the same expression Tommy would make when they passed a field of cows or when Tubbo saw a bomb, just a bit more extreme.

As soon as Dream was finished ordering he stepped to the side. Tubbo and Ranboo took his place in front of Tommy with a stride that would make a soldier tremble.

“Three vanilla cupcakes, please.” Tubbo spoke curtly.

Techno’s eyes flicked to them for a moment, hands tightening and loosening around the towel he was holding. “Is the pup not going to speak to us?”

“What did you just call him?” Ranboo growled.

“It’s fine, Ranboo, really–” Tommy stammered, grabbing Ranboo’s shoulder.

“No, it’s really not! He’s literally referring to you by your species.”

“Excuse me,” Phil cut in politely but firmly, “I think the boy can speak for himself if he has any problems with the nickname.”

Suddenly, everyone had turned to Tommy, and their eyes weighed heavily on him.

If he said he minded, then Techno would get sad. The man would probably respect his decision, but he really did like calling Tommy ‘pup,’ and Tommy really didn’t mind. He found the nickname a bit nice.

On the other hand, if he said he didn’t mind, he would be siding with the vampires and not his pack—who were stepping in right now to protect him. He wasn’t sure if it would count as a betrayal.

Luckily, he didn’t have to choose as Dream stepped in. “Oh, lay off the poor boy. Just order your cupcakes and go.”

Everyone turned back to the counter, and Phil nodded as he punched in the order. Techno put the cupcakes in a neat box while Wilbur took over cleaning the counter.

As soon as the box was in Ranboo’s hands, he started making his way out the door, dragging Tommy along. Dream stayed behind at one of the tables to wait for the rest of his coven.

Ranboo exited first, holding Tommy’s hand as they both said bye to Dream. The blond couldn’t help but glance back at the three vampires at the counter.

Once they were outside, Tubbo stopped, just short of the door that separated him from the rest of his pack. He turned towards the counter again.

“Oh, and Wilbur?” He started, smiling like a devil-spawn and holding up a bottle of holy water. “Lay a hand on Tommy again and I will raze this place to the ground.”

He left before anyone else could respond.

Dream whistled. “You must have done something bad for the kid to threaten you like that.”

“It– it was an accident! I didn’t mean to.” Wilbur stammered out as Techno glared intensely at the floor—angry at Wilbur and the fact he couldn’t talk to Tommy and the fact someone just threatened his coven.

Phil seemed a little peeved too, but he hid it better.

How dare his son claim something as his own—as theirs, even—and treat it with anything less than utter adoration?

Phil loved his family. He would do anything to keep them safe. He had done everything to keep them safe, even from themselves.

Techno was the same. Phil had seen the man bleed assailants dry at even the inkling that they had laid a hand on his loved ones.

You’d think Wilbur would know better. That some of Phil’s fatherly actions would have rubbed off on him, but no. Instead of being Tommy’s comfort, he had become the boy’s source of distress.

He’ll learn eventually, though. They have eternity after all.

Unless Tommy came around sooner, which Phil would prefer, but he doesn’t mind doing it the long way.

Tommy was as much his as he was Wilbur’s, even if Phil and Techno stepped back and allowed Wilbur to take the reins.

Tommy was theirs, and would always be theirs.

No matter what.

Unfortunately, the boy had taken a liking to Dream, so now the rest of them had to put up with the other vampire.

Dream was an ally, his coven was strong and resourceful, but he was by no means a close friend. Techno had been close to him once, but they burned that bridge a long time ago.

Now, the man stands in front of them, daring to touch what belongs to them.

“Aw, it’s okay Wilbur.” Dream cooed condescendingly. “I want a new fur coat too.”

Wilbur’s veins turned to ice.

Tommy was standing outside the Sleepy Bois cafe again. He shifted the weight on his feet as he debated going inside.

Sure, he already made the trek here, but he could easily turn around and slip away.

They wouldn’t even know! They couldn’t see him from where the counter was in the shop, and so no one would see him leaving and be sad.

Not that they’re sad when he leaves, of course not. They don’t care that much.

What if they did miss him, though? What if they missed him as much as he missed Phil’s smile or Techno’s affection– cookies. Tommy meant to say that he missed Techno’s cookies.

Well, since he missed their cookies, and he was already here, maybe he should just go inside?

Tommy made up his mind as a particularly cold gust of wind blew and nipped at the tips of his ears. He forgot his hat at home, and the inside of the bakery looked so warm.

He just needed to warm up for a few minutes, that’s all.

As soon as he stepped inside the bakery, he knew his suspicions had been right: the inside was warm and toasty, like bread fresh out of the oven.

Unfortunately, Wilbur was still at the counter this time. Does this bitch ever get assigned somewhere else? He wasn’t the only one on cashier-duty in the beginning.

The vampire was curled in on himself while he fiddled with his own fingers at the counter. He kept sneaking a few glances at Tommy as the boy stepped further inside.

Wilbur would sink back down immediately as soon as he noticed Tommy looking, like he was a guilty kid caught stealing cookies from a cookie jar.

The blond kind of felt bad for the guy. The shame of his actions was clearly eating him up inside. Another part of Tommy said he deserved to feel such guilt and anxiety.

The werewolf approached gingerly, rubbing his frosty ears in order to warm them up. They both stood there for a second, neither one saying anything.

“‘m sorry.” Wilbur mumbled, pulling at his fingers more aggressively. “I shouldn’t have done those things to you when you clearly weren’t comfortable, and I shouldn’t have called you ‘darling.’”

Tommy stood there blankly. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t really been expecting an apology, if he’s honest.

He sort of expected that they would all just collectively ignore what happened and move on, or that Tommy would just avoid Wilbur forever.

Not a healthy mindset, but one that was so easy to slip into. When someone is scared and feels backed into a corner, they do what they have to do to get by.

Fear keeps prey alive.

But Tommy was no prey, and Wilbur was apologizing. Not even a fake apology, too. This was the real deal.

Yet, Tommy didn’t want to tell him that it’s okay, because it wasn’t. What Wilbur did was fucked up.

So, he didn’t. Communication is a two way street after all.

“Just– just don’t do it again, yeah?”

Wilbur nodded numbly, looking up at Tommy through his lashes. His eyes caught on the boy’s hands rubbing at his ears.

Quickly, and so suddenly that it caused Tommy to jolt, Wilbur ran into the back. Techno emerged a second later, looking puzzledly behind him.

“Hi, pup.” Techno said softly, rumbling as he spoke. “Are you okay?”

The man’s eyes were still large, but at least this time Tommy could see bits of red peeking out. He looked a bit disheveled, with little flyaways sticking out of his hair.

Tommy really hoped Techno wasn’t sick or something, that would be awful.

Thinking back to the question, the boy pursed his lips, he knew Techno was trying, even if he wasn’t that great at emotions. “I will be.”

Techno seemed to accept that at face value, asking for Tommy’s order while still maintaining that soft tone he was using. It was all rumbly and warm.

Tommy liked it. It was like getting scratched behind the ears, and he felt his tail start up a slow wag.

Of course the vampire saw it, shooting Tommy a smug grin as the boy flushed. The grin felt more fond than teasing if he’s honest.

Just as Tommy was receiving his pumpkin spice latte—which was immensely better than the one from Starbucks, fight him—Wilbur returned from the depths of the inner shop.

In his hands was a bundle of fabric. It was a maroon color and seemed exceptionally soft. It looked like good den material, and Tommy’s claws itched in anticipation.

Ugh, his wolf instincts could be so stupid at times.

Wilbur fiddled nervously with his hands, a habit of his which Tommy had long since noticed. Techno did it too, except he would also fidget with his hair or jewelery.

By the gods did that man wear a lot of jewelry.

Tommy loved the way his gold would shine, and the noise they made when they clinked against each other soothed him in just the right way.

Suddenly, Wilbur thrust out what he was holding towards the blond. It was a beanie, a little orca being embroidered on the front where it folded over.

Surprised, Tommy blinked once as he stared at the object. Wilbur kept his head bowed and his arms extended.

“Your uh,” He mumbled, “your ears looked cold.”

A childish part of the werewolf’s hindbrain awoke at the sight of the gift. Giving gifts was a normal occurrence, especially around holidays or between friends, but they were also used when forming packs.

Given the brunet’s rather touchy tendencies, Tommy was hesitant.

“No strings attached?” He whispered, rather puerile.

Wilbur looked up again, swirling amber meeting electric blue.

“No strings attached.” He confirmed, eyes unwavering.

Tommy’s eyes flicked up and down a few times, going between Wilbur’s sincere face and the hat. Carefully, he reached out, and Wilbur stayed completely still.

The blond could tell that he was refraining from putting the hat on Tommy himself, making it so he didn’t scare the boy. Gently, the hat was removed from his hands.

Tommy held the beanie in his hands, marveling at the fabric. Wilbur understood, it was one of his favorite hats for that very reason.

Another reason being that it was extremely warm, so he knows that it’ll keep Tommy’s ears warm.

Tommy brought the fabric to his face, sniffing it. He scrunched up his nose almost immediately.

“It smells like bitch!” He whined petulantly.

Wilbur blinked. “What?”

“It reeks of your scent, Wilbur! Do you wash this thing? It’s rancid.”

The brunet sputtered, glaring at Techno indignantly when the man keeled over laughing. He flipped Tommy the bird.

“Well, child, you don’t have to take the hat if you don’t want to. I just thought it’d be nice for your ears.”

Tommy grinned cheekily, but replied sincerely. “Thank you, cold ear-tips are the worst, believe me.”

The kid scurried off then, warmed by the beanie on his head and the latte in his hand. His heart felt a bit warmer too, but that’s probably the latte’s doing.

“Wilbur, I’m heavily inclined to believe the werewolf about your smell–”

“I don’t smell like bitch!”

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.

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Chapter Text

Wilbur kind of smelt like cinnamon.

He smelt like the time when the seasons change to fall and there’s a slight chill in the air; when children jump in piles of leaves and sip on warm apple cider.

Maybe it’s because he works in a cafe, or maybe it’s just a Wilbur thing.

Tommy liked the smell. It reminded him of the sweaters Wilbur would wear that look oh-so warm. It really suited the man.

The blond stared at the hat on his desk, away from the dresser that housed all of his important possessions—mostly gifts from Tubbo and Ranboo, but a few things from before he ever met them.

The hat sat there so innocently, collecting dust and reeking of Wilbur and Tommy’s scent. The boy didn’t know what to do with it.

He couldn’t throw it away. It was a gift. Should he give it back? But it was a gift. Should he give Wilbur something in return? But doing that without a reason would imply a request to bond.

Silently, Tommy padded across the floor of his room, legs and feet shifted into those not seen on any regular werewolf or human. He picked the hat up and put it to his nose.

It smelt like cinnamon and warm family dinners. It smelt like apple picking and sweet smelling parks.

It smelt like the grasp of a monster who wouldn’t let him go. It smelled like rot clinging to a man with a once beating heart.

Tommy threw the hat in an empty desk drawer.

“Dream! My friend!” Tommy called as he entered the cafe, the man in question leaning on the counter and having a subdued conversation with Wilbur.

“Tommy!” Dream called back, opening his arms to the blond. “It’s good to see you, man.”

Tommy accepted the invitation with ease, missing the knowing smirk Dream threw Wilbur over his head and the answering glare.

The hug was short, Dream giving him a little squeeze before letting go. He didn’t linger, and Tommy appreciated it.

He had always hated feeling trapped.

The vampire turned back to the counter, giving Tommy a cheeky wink. What for, he has no idea.

“Anyway, you got the order, Wil?” Dream asked.

“Yep, two dozen donuts delivered to your coven a week from today.” Wilbur replied, voice overly flat and clearly upset.

Dream didn’t seem to pick up on it, or maybe he just didn’t care, because he gave Wilbur a satisfied nod.

Then, he saluted Tommy and made his way out of the cafe. The blond gave him a friendly wave as he went.

Wilbur’s face was still screwed into a grimace as Tommy turned back, and the kid raised an eyebrow. He had started forgiving Wilbur, and the trust was being rebuilt slowly but surely.

“You got a problem, big dubs?” He asked, tilting his head curiously.

He was still in the same shift as earlier, much more animal than human. He got a few funny stares on the street, but Tommy just ignored them.

They were just jealous of his poggers shifting powers and ability to forgo shoes.

“No.” Wilbur’s answer was clipped, and Tommy took a step back in surprise, claws gently clicking against the hard floors.

Wilbur’s eyes caught onto the movement, like a predator completely in tune with its prey. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not angry at you.”

Tommy knew that—he hadn’t done anything warranted of anger yet—but he also knew any anger could be turned against him.

He knew how stronger people could let their frustrations out on the weaker—how they would.

And Wilbur hadn’t proved himself to be in very good control of his emotions.

“Do you have a favorite order so far?” Wilbur asked innocently, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Tommy shook his head. Everything here was too good to pick just one favorite.

Wilbur smiled fondly. “Y’know, I never gave you that recommendation before. Personally, I like the graham cracker cheesecake.”

Tommy thought it over. He’d never had cheesecake before, but he did like cheese…

“Okay.” The reply came all too easy, Tommy handing over the money without a second thought.

Wilbur packaged up the cake quickly, simply moving it and the parchment paper it was on into a plastic container. Then, he slid it across the counter to Tommy with a plastic fork.

However, instead of taking his food and leaving as he usually did. Tommy opened up the container right then and there.

There were no other customers and Tommy had time, so why not eat Wilbur’s recommendation in front of him?

The blond gently poked the top of the dessert with his fork. He looked at the marks strangely.

“This doesn’t look like cake or cheese.” He said suspiciously, eyeing the cheesecake like it was going to transform into a person any moment now and scare him.

“It’s not,” Wilbur said slowly, “it’s cheesecake.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Tommy confirmed, taking a bite out of the cake.

His eyes flew wide open. That shit was good.

“Holy shit.” Tommy inhaled another bite, cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk.

Wilbur chuckled. “I guess that means you like it?”

“This is the best thing to grace the earth, even if it doesn’t taste like cake or cheese.”

“You’re really hung up about the name, huh?”

“It’s misleading, Wilbur. How was I supposed to know it was this good with a name like cheesecake.”

Wilbur smiled, fangs wide on display, while Tommy wagged his tail and shifted his weight back and forth. It wasn’t a scared or uneasy shift though, but rather the tip-taps of an excited puppy.

It was adorable.

Tommy ordered another cheesecake to go, intending to share it with his pack. Wilbur turned a bit sour at the reminder of them.

(Roadblocks.)

He supposed they’re fine though, since Tommy loved them so much.

Just then, Tommy’s phone buzzed, and he stopped his movements to fish it out of his pocket.

“Oh, it’s just Dream.” He said, like that wasn’t a punch to Wilbur’s gut.

Wilbur didn’t have Tommy’s number.

“He’s inviting me to his coven party! The one I’m assuming you lot were talking about before.”

How did Dream gain Tommy’s trust before him?

“Wilbur?”

Was he charmed?

“Wilbur?!”

Was Wilbur’s fuck-up that bad?

“Wilbur!” Tommy shouted, grabbing the brunet by his shoulders tightly.

The man slowly came back to his senses. He had to be better. He had to win over Tommy.

Not to mention that bastard was nothing but trouble for Tommy.

The worker chuckled, gently grabbing Tommy’s hands and holding it between his own. The boy tensed but didn’t pull away, so Wilbur gave his hands a soft squeeze.

Worry still filled Tommy’s eyes as he scanned the other up and down. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was just lost in my own head.” Wilbur started to trace circles into Tommy’s palms.

“Was it something I said?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Tommy’s eyebrows were drawn down, and he worried his lip between his canines. “You don’t seem to like Dream very much.”

Wilbur melted. Tommy was worried about him.

“He’s okay; I just don’t think you should spend so much time around him.”

At that, the werewolf’s expression turned steely. He removed his hands from Wilbur’s. He looked upset, and Wilbur’s chest ached at ever making the boy look like that.

Before he could open his mouth to try and fix whatever he did, Tommy spoke up first.

“Stop trying to police who I’m friends with, prick. You don’t get to control me.” He spat, words dripping with contempt.

Wilbur was quick to backtrack. “Oh, no, no, no, Tommy, that’s not what I meant–”

“Sure it isn’t.” The boy scoffed.

The worker panicked as Tommy slowly turned and made his way to exit. He didn’t want Tommy to go; they were finally making progress!

What if he forced Tommy to stay? It wouldn’t be hard to simply grab the werewolf and keep him there—Wilbur was an ancient vampire anyway, and Tommy was barely more than a pup.

However, brute force had only ever driven the boy away before, and Wilbur refused to break Tommy’s trust like that this time. It wasn’t worth it if he wasn’t staying permanently.

The boy needed to understand that Dream was lying to him—that his whole act was just a ruse to hurt Tommy.

But the boy would never believe him.

The next week passed in a blur.

Tommy came in as per usual, but he was always in a rush. His responses were clipped, and he was always short with Wilbur when the man brought up Dream.

“Tommy, I just don’t trust that vampire–” He tried to reason, attempting to show his sincerity through his voice.

“Can it.” Tommy replied, cold as ice.

(Wilbur had protected him from other vampires before, remember? A small voice in Tommy’s head whispered. We should believe him, he means well.

So does Dream, Tommy would spit back. Dream was careful when he was around Tommy, never getting too close or grabbing him unexpectedly.

Both of which Wilbur had done.

One moment of kindness does not undo the several moments of fear.

Wilbur protecting him once doesn’t change the fact that the man might want to kill Tommy himself.)

The vampire had been extra careful around Tommy since The Incident™, staying a respectful distance away unless Tommy made the initiative to get closer. It wasn’t really hard with the counter between them.

Tommy hadn’t come any closer to him since the other day, though.

It was frustrating, like Wilbur had taken one step forward and two steps back. Why couldn’t he just get it right?

He fucked up in the beginning by hating Tommy, then he fucked up by overstepping his boundaries, and then he fucked up by trying and failing to warn Tommy about the vampire who just wanted him as a prize.

Time was running out, and Wilbur didn’t know what to do.

Dream would come in almost everyday, long after Tommy was gone, goading about how nice the wolf’s pelt was.

It was disgusting, but even Phil and Techno wouldn’t believe Wilbur.

They assumed Wilbur was just being jealous, bitter at the fact Dream was closer to Tommy then he was. They didn’t believe that their ally would hurt someone they were all clearly fond of.

They also didn’t hear the vile words the other vampire spat.

“Oh, his coat is so shiny. I bet it’d make a nice rug.” Dream purred, fingers amply tracing designs into the counter without paying Wilbur much thought. “Or maybe a coat. It looks warm.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Wilbur was grinding his teeth together. This wasn’t a fight he could start and win.

Dream ignored him.

“His head is so pretty, like a little golden flower. Would make a nice trophy for the coven, don’t you think?” He mused out loud, glancing up to meet Wilbur eye.

The brunet was seething, magic bubbling under his skin like an angry swarm of bees. Dream smiled, he loved getting on Wilbur’s nerves.

“Aw, I know you wanted him all to yourself, but you have to learn to share, Wil. Maybe I can lend him to you if we keep him around as a sheep.” The man gave a faux-sympathetic look—one where his features were a little too sharp to be genuine.

Just before Wilbur was about to snap, the man would leave, giving a cheery smile and strolling out the door, victorious.

The day of the party Tommy was particularly happy. He was babbling about how excited he was to meet other vampires who would accept him as a werewolf, something that Dream assured him was true.

Wilbur was acutely reminded of how he used to treat Tommy. How he used to hate him. A pit formed in his stomach as he even thought about treating the gold in front of him as anything less than treasure.

Tommy should be safe in his next, protected by his coven, not at some frat boy’s party full of mean drunks and cruel figures.

Dream was especially irritating that day, going on about Tommy like he was a prize—like an object to be won. The boy was seemingly worth nothing more than his pelt to the man.

That made Wilbur mad, and then guilty. Tommy was a person with his own thoughts and feelings, and he should be treated as such. However, those thoughts and feelings had once been blatantly disregarded by Wilbur.

He couldn’t change the past though, and he could only hope to change the future.

Maybe Tommy would heed his warning and not go, staying safe with his pack at home. Maybe he would be on high alert, retreating at the first sign of danger.

Maybe Tommy would stay safe.

Dream walked out that day with a smile sharper than his fangs.

Wilbur couldn’t do anything but watch as Tommy walked straight into the lion's den.

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.

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Chapter Text

Tommy was in front of Dream’s house—a large mansion housing the entirety of his coven.

The house was decadent with pristine marble while still keeping a distinct ancient look. It was gorgeous, in Tommy’s opinion.

More importantly, it was shiny.

Everything from the walls to the stairs to the duck pond seemed to sparkle. It seemed so perfect, especially for the amount of people that should have been living there and making a mess in their day to day life.

Tommy gripped the panic button in his pocket tighter.

He didn’t think he would need it, but it was better safe than sorry when dealing with the ‘enemy’. Ranboo had insisted he bring it.

Tommy was glad for his friend’s paranoia, the house reeked of disinfectant, and it was giving the blond an eerie vibe.

Walking up to the front door, Tommy rang the doorbell. It was a cheery tune that died off at the end, as if the machinery was old and losing functionality.

A man was at the door in an instant. He had fiery eyes and a shaggy mullet. He gave Tommy a once over before shouting over his shoulder.

“Dream! Your guest is here!”

A crash could be heard from inside, followed by a barrage of swears and laughter. Tommy couldn’t help but smile, it all seemed so domestic.

The vampire emerged seconds later, hair all mussed up and a smile on his face. He greeted Tommy warmly and invited him inside

The house was as big as it looked, with high ceilings and dazzling chandeliers. They sparkled brightly through the thick layer of dust that rested on them.

Strange.

In the common room, Tommy met a lot of new faces. The vampire who greeted him at the door was Sapnap, a rambunctious man who was a terrible flirt.

He met George, who Dream totally wasn’t smitten over, and Drista, a chaotic fledgling that he bounced off of well.

Bad was a towering vampire who was as sweet as pie, and Skeppy was rough around the edges but entertaining to be around. Karl was quiet and soft, but got louder as he warmed up to Tommy, and Antfrost was a bit of an enigma, but he was nice enough and clearly involved in the group.

Tommy met some others, but they mostly flitted in and out of rooms. They didn’t seem to be very close to Dream or any of the other main vampires.

In fact, the leaders barely seemed to know their names.

Wilbur delivered the donuts soon after, sticking his head in the doorway so he could see Tommy and give the boy a friendly wave.

Wilbur’s face seemed relieved when he saw him laughing with the other coven, nothing like the dark look the blond was accustomed to seeing when he was with Dream.

Tommy was going to go over and say ‘hi’ properly, but his attention was quickly drawn by a story Skeppy was telling them about the big bad Technoblade, as Techno seemed to be known.

They were friends—still are, according to the man—and they loved pulling pranks on each other. The story was funny, and Tommy felt himself get immersed with it as he laughed along with the others.

It didn’t mean he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him.

He was a fucking werewolf after all.

One of Tommy’s ears flicked back, but he kept his eyes on Skeppy. The vampire sneaking up behind him was nervous and unsure, anxiety rolling off of them in waves.

Tommy’s hackles raised as they got closer, and he began to shift. His hands turned into claws and his teeth became sharper.

No one seemed to notice this, too focused on talking and sharing anecdotes. They didn’t notice Tommy’s attention was off them now.

They didn’t even seem to notice the other vampire creeping closer.

Strange.

They were standing right behind the werewolf now, just within arm’s reach. There was no heartbeat or breathing or heat, but they had an odd smell—besides the anxiety, of course.

A sterile smell was clinging to them, just like the rest of the house.

Debating on whether to turn around or wait and see what they would do, the choice was stolen from Tommy. Something cold touched the back of his neck, and it burned.

In a moment, Tommy was on the ground yowling. He turned around to see the frightful eyes of one of the other, lower-ranking coven members.

He was young, likely around Tommy’s age physically, and his eyes were full of fear.

Purpled, if Tommy remembered his name right, was Dream’s newest fledgling.

He was tall and lanky, not unlike the blond himself. The kid was trembling where he stood, frozen in fear and holding a silver collar.

That bitch.

Growling, Tommy snapped at the boy, who dropped the collar and bolted out of the room. Tommy turned back towards the leaders, who were watching with a mix of anger, confusion, and amusement.

No words could describe what the werewolf was feeling at that moment, so he settled for a few harsh barks.

That seemed to snap them out of their trance, as Sapnap hurled himself over a loveseat roll grab at the piece of discarded metal on the floor.

As expected—or as stupid trusting Tommy should have expected—Sapnap lunged for him.

The blond ducked and raised his arms protectively around his neck; his mouth was pulled into a snarl, lips curled back further than should have been physically possible.

The silver grazed his arms again and Tommy howled in pain, red angry welts appearing on his skin. Unconsciously, Tommy’s body shifted to adapt to the danger.

His legs developed furs and claws, bones cracking into place within mere seconds as Tommy used his new haunches to jump straight at Sapnap.

He pinned the man down by his chest, an animalistic look in his eye as he stared down at the vampire. The collar was dropped sometime during the scuffle, out of Sapnap’s reach and away from Tommy’s throat.

Tommy was winning this fight. Well, he was until he was slammed in his side by George.

The werewolf skid across the floor, claws digging into the hard tile. The coven stared at him, baring their fangs.

Dream stood in the middle, unmoving with an unplaceable expression. He stayed frozen even as Tommy looked him in the eye.

Bad called upon his magic to draw shadows out of hiding, while Antfrost pulled a handful of something out of his pocket.

They were flowers—purple ones.

Wolfsbane.

Tommy was a lot of things: arrogant, loud, and annoying, but he was not a coward.

However, standing in a room full of vampires who stood readily with all the weapons to kill him, Tommy turned tail and ran.

He vaguely heard the others clamber to follow, but Tommy had the upper hand. He was fast, agile, and wouldn’t run out of breath for miles.

It wasn’t long before he lost them within the city.

The blond let his legs carry him home, back to his pack. His instincts would keep him safe until he got back to the den.

Tommy entered the apartment loudly, not caring if he woke up his pack. Tubbo walked out of his bedroom first, rubbing his tired eyes with curses on his tongue.

“Tommy, what the–” Tubbo’s words died on his tongue as he took in the sight in front of him.

Tommy was half-shifted, bloody, panting, and covered in raw welts. He let his weight tip forward and collapse. He was home. He was safe.

Tubbo swore and rushed to catch him. “Ranboo! Ranboo, get the medkit!”

There was shuffling from another part of the household Tommy faintly caught. He let his eyes slip shut.

When Tommy woke up, he was bundled up in the den. He felt the grime on his skin and the pit in his stomach as he wiggled underneath all the blankets.

In an instant, two worried faces filled his vision.

“Oh my god–”

“We were so worried–”

“You’re a fucking idiot–”

“Can you tell us what happened–”

Tommy wheezed and they shut up. Immediately, a glass of water was pressed to his lips, including a straw, and the boy drank like a dying man.

“Vampires.” Tommy rasped out. “Dream’s coven. Silver collar. Fuck.”

The boy broke into a coughing fit, and Ranboo rubbed his back soothingly, handing trailing up to scratch at his ears.

Tommy melted at the contact, huffing appreciatively as he leaned into the boy and wagged his tail. While Ranboo was comforting and soft, Tubbo was ridged with anger.

“I’ll make them pay.” Ranboo looked up at him wearily. He was angry too, but he refused to let it show.

Tommy didn’t need anger right now, he needed care. They could be angry later.

Tubbo backed down reluctantly, handing Tommy a whole steak. A whole steak that was devoured in less than a minute.

By Prime, he was starving.

With his energy restored, Tommy shifted back to a more human appearance: fur-less legs, shorter claws, and small canines.

His wounds began to tingle softly as his cells replenished faster, and the blond sighed in relief. They would scar less the faster they healed.

“They wanted your pelt.” It wasn’t a question, all three boys knew how valuable Tommy was.

“Yeah,” Tommy answered anyway, looking at the floor, “the whole house smelled like a hospital. I should’ve known.”

“It’s not your fault.” Ranboo soothed. “We trusted Dream.”

Tubbo grumbled. “It is your fault for not using the panic button.”

“I was panicking!”

“That’s what it’s for, you dumbass!”

Tommy growled half-heartedly at his best friend, but he was easily outdone by the rumbling his stomach let out.

Tubbo stood up to go get some more red meat for him, but was stopped by a tugging on his sleeve. Turning around, he was faced with the big blue eyes and pouty lip of his packmate, looking up at him with ears pinned back.

Ranboo, the smart one, had his eyes squeezed shut and his hands over his ears. He would not fall for Tommy’s puppy eyes again.

The shorter’ state was not so lucky, as Tommy spoke with a soft wobbly voice that physically compelled Tubbo to do his bidding—murder or otherwise.

“Cookie?”

That’s how the three found themselves outside their usual cafe, Tommy still clad in bandages and hitching a ride on Ranboo’s back.

The blond was nervous about entering and facing more vampires so soon, but he doubted that they would try anything with the whole pack there.

Tubbo and Ranboo would keep him safe, he’s sure of it.

That assurance quickly crumbled as Ranboo hit his head into the top of the door frame.

“Dumb bitch–” Tommy swore, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Ranboo warbled out an apology. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not used to being so tall.”

Tubbo snorted. “Says the six-foot-six giant.”

“Okay, but with Tommy I’m even taller.”

“Why do none of you care that my head hurts?” Tommy whined indignantly.

“You deserve it. Being that tall is a crime. You should accept your punishment valiantly and without protest.” Tubbo sniffed, walking towards the counter with big steps.

Wilbur was watching them—re: Tommy—with a haunted look in his eye. He seemed completely horrified as his gaze transfixed on the boy.

If Tommy hears that man say one ‘I told you so,’ he’s razing this place to the ground.

“What Wibbles? Can’t handle the fact I’m taller than you now?” Tommy mocked, frowning when Wilbur’s expression didn’t change. “Seriously, man, I’m fine.”

The man’s face hardened as he looked away from Tommy’s wounds and into his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

The boy flinched, shrinking into Ranboo, who stood up straighter and bared his teeth. Wilbur didn’t flinch, but he backed down.

“It was Dream, wasn’t it?” The man spat venomously.

“His coven.” Tommy corrected, but Wilbur didn’t respond.

He looked like he was in pain, the tension lining his body making him physically shake.

“But when I saw you…”

“It happened after you left.” The werewolf explained.

The brunet reached out for him, only to stop when Tubbo physically stepped in between them. He scowled for a second before turning back to Tommy.

“I’m glad you're okay.” He said, impossibly soft.

“I’m glad too.”

After that, Tubbo placed their order: three peanut butter cookies. Wilbur packed their order quickly, and the three took a seat at a corner table, hidden from the view of a door.

They talked quietly while they ate, and at some point Wilbur had dropped off a warm honey lemon tea at the table, on the house.

Tommy was thankful the man was giving him space. He doesn’t know if he could stand the vampire being overbearing right now.

The door chimed behind them, and someone walked in quietly. All three werewolves picked up on the walking pattern and smell.

“Wilbur.”

“Dream.”

.

.

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Chapter Text

Tommy’s ears flattened automatically, tail pressing into the inside of his leg. He was still, barely breathing or blinking.

Tubbo and Ranboo mirrored him, pressing further into the corner where they sat. There was no way Dream could see them from the door.

Yet, the man found them anyway, walking straight past Wilbur towards their little corner. He never faltered once, staring head on and walking with a purpose.

Dream reached their table in mere seconds, staring down at the three werewolves with an ugly frown. They didn’t know why he was here, they didn’t want him here.

Then, out of nowhere, Dream dropped to his knees. His gaze became fixated on the floor, not even darting to look up at the teens he once towered over.

It was a strange sight. Dream’s hair was wild, like he hadn’t bothered to comb it at all. There were deep bags under his eyes and he seemed a bit paler than usual—which was a real feat for a vampire.

Tommy curled up on his seat, propping his feet up and away from the vampire in front of him. He would move back further, but his back was already pressed into the wall behind him.

He was cornered. He hated being cornered.

The thought of being trapped made his breath hitch, but the boy forced himself to breathe steadily. Dream could probably hear his heart pounding already, and Tommy didn’t need the man to hear him hyperventilating too.

Ranboo growled softly and Tubbo had his teeth bared in warning. They were about two seconds away from trying to rip the vampire’s throat out.

However, Dream didn’t move an inch, he watched Tommy’s fear and the others’ threats without flinching. He watched them like they were nothing more than pesky flies.

Wilbur was right, Dream was not someone they wanted to be friends with.

“Tommy,” Dream’s voice cracked horribly, “I am so sorry.”

Maybe Wilbur wasn’t right, after all.

When Dream spoke, it was like a switch was flipped. His voice was full of emotion, and his face reacted in turn, squinting in a strange way.

It was a face full of remorse—guilt—shame.

It was pitiful.

“I thought– I thought they were okay with werewolves. They said they were.”

A tear ran down the man’s face.

“I never meant for you to get hurt.”

More tears flowed.

Dream was about to speak again, but Wilbur’s voice beat him to it. The brunet stood behind him with a disgusted face, expression full of pure contempt.

“Then why didn’t you try and stop them?” Wilbur’s voice cut in like venom.

“I was, I was in shock!” Dream exclaimed, standing up to face the other vampire. “My coven—my family—attacking the person I see as my younger brother!”

Wilbur flinched at the word ‘brother,’ and the sobbing man turned back to Tommy.

“You have to understand I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t know what to do.” His voice tapered off at the end, cracking into something utterly broken.

Tommy looked at him for a long, hard moment, staring into the raw emotion spilling out of Dream. It seemed so genuine, and the blond couldn’t help but imagine it with the roles reversed.

Ranboo and Tubbo, his beloved packmates, attacking an outsider that Tommy cared so much about. He probably wouldn’t know what to do either, and, well–

Tommy felt bad for the coven leader groveling in front of him.

There wasn’t the same level of trust in covens as there was in packs, yet the werewolf knew Dream thought of his coven as his family. He was their sire, and they were pledged to him in one way or another.

Just like Tubbo and Ranboo were pledged to him.

“It’s okay.” The words sounded weak, even to Tommy, and he winced. “I’m fine now. Just don’t expect me to come back to that shithole.”

Dream huffed in amusement, before it faded into concern. “Yeah, that’s fair. I wouldn’t either. Just take care of yourself, okay? I’ll take care of the fools who tried to hurt you.”

Tommy shivered, he didn’t know why.

Dream left shortly after that, barely looking at the wolves as he left. It seemed so abrupt; one minute he was begging for forgiveness on his knees, and the next he was leaving without a word. He sent Wilbur a look that had the man bristling, though.

Tommy didn’t have time to ponder what was going on between the supposed allies, nor did he have time to wonder why the cafe seemed to have lost its homely warmth—an unnatural chill taking its place.

He didn’t have time to think about why the cafe smelled like death.

He didn’t have time because as soon as the stench hit their noses—smelling like rain and bitter herbs—Ranboo was vibrating in his seat. Even Tubbo seemed to be itching to leave, and that boy feared nothing short of the gods.

Tommy inclined his head, a mutual understanding going through their bond. Not a second more passed before Tommy was scooped up in Ranboo’s arms, and Tubbo was making his way to the door.

The blond nodded at Wilbur, a sign of thanks with a small implication of ‘be careful’ slipped in. He wouldn’t want Wilbur getting hurt during a coven war with Dream or something.

Not that he cared though, he just happened to notice tensions rising.

Shut up.

The walk home was quiet, peaceful in a way the werewolves didn’t usually get. They were loud, chaotic, and energetic; it was hard to find the three of them sitting still on most days.

Yet, as they made their way back to the den, Tubbo and Ranboo kept their voices hushed. Not hushed in a secretive way, but hushed in a soft way.

Ranboo kept his steps leisurely and measured, as to keep Tommy from jostling too much. The blond’s eyes were droopy, ears flopping up and down with every movement.

Tommy buried his face into Ranboo’s neck, breathing in his scent. He smelt like lavenders and vanilla, with a sweet undercurrent that reminded Tommy of cake.

Tubbo’s scent was more smokey, smelling like cedar and campfires and dark chocolate. They calmed Tommy like nothing else could.

It allowed Tommy’s mind to drift from him. He knew he was safe and protected, and his body was tired from all the healing, so he let his eyes slip shut.

When he opened them again, he was laying in his own bed, tucked in with an extra pillow shoved between his arms.

The boy was hugging it like a lifeline, and Tommy’s cheeks reddened as he imagined clinging to Ranboo like a baby koala, refusing to let go.

He can’t believe they tricked him with a pillow. He was not going to hear the end of this in the morning.

There was moonlight streaming in through his open window, curtains drawn open to let the soft breeze in.

Tommy padded over to the window soundlessly. His socks masked the sound of blunt nails on wood.

The sky was dark with one or two stars visible due to the sparkling city that surrounded him. The moon was high up, and Tommy had to resist the urge to howl. He didn’t want to wake his brothers up.

Sleeping in the middle of the afternoon turned out to be a bad thing, because now Tommy was restless. He paced back and forth in his room, laying on his bed flat on his face before huffing out a breath of air.

He couldn’t take this anymore, he had to go on a walk or else he’d drive himself through the floor.

Quickly, the boy pulled on a thick hoodie and old jogging shoes. He grabbed some holy water and a pocket knife before making his way to the door.

Luckily, the front door didn’t creak if you pushed up on the handle, so Tommy wasn’t worried about making too much noise.

If he woke up Tubbo and Ranboo, they would probably scold him and tell him he needed to rest more, ugh.

The streets were silent and crisp with night air. Most werewolves had work the next morning, leaving the city desolate.

Until Tommy heard pained wheezing coming from an alleyway.

Now, he should have learned his lessons from going into alleyways before, especially now that he was injured, but the blond had always been curious.

Also, if someone was hurt, he wanted to help, injuries be damned.

Darkness shrouded the alley, and Tommy stood at the entryway waiting for his vision to adjust. He started being able to see the trash cans, then the garbage, then the blood.

There was so much blood.

Tommy covered his nose as the strong scent of iron hit him. He could still hear the breathing though, and he took a step forward.

There, huddled behind a rather large box, was a boy with blond hair. He was surrounded by the carcasses of several dead birds.

The werewolf relaxed at the prospect that there wasn’t someone actively bleeding in the alley, but concern quickly took over as he wondered what the fuck had happened.

The boy looked up, red eyes met blue.

Tommy knew those red eyes. He saw them filled with fear as their owner gripped a silver collar.

Tommy really needed to stop finding injured vampires who hate him in alleyways.

“Purpled?” He called softly, stepping closer. The other flinched, trembling slightly, but he didn’t speak a word. “What happened?”

The boy stared at Tommy, mulling over his words carefully. “Dream…kicked me out of the coven.”

“For trying to hurt me?” Tommy asked, although he knew the answer already.

“No.” Purpled didn’t elaborate.

As his eyes adjusted more and more to the darkness. He could see the marks mottling Purpled’s skin and the blood smeared down his face.

Plus, the fact he was breathing so laboriously was a bad sign, as vampires didn’t even need to breathe. Some did it out of habit, even though they had no blood to circulate.

Purpled was doing it out of pain.

The birds made sense now. Purpled was a fledgling, and his sire had abandoned him—which was a concept Tommy despised with his whole being—leaving the kid hungry and alone.

Fledglings needed to eat often, and it was claimed that their connection with their sire was sacred. Severing such a strong tie must’ve hurt badly.

Without a word, Tommy kneeled down and offered his wrist up. Purpled physically jerked back and turned his head away.

“No,” He rasped, “I’m going to end up hurting you.”

Tommy didn’t move. “You won’t. You’ve been draining these birds because you didn’t want to lose control and attack a werewolf, right? You don’t want to hurt me, so you won’t.”

“You should hate me.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You’re just a fledgling.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to trap and kill you.”

“And your coven shouldn’t have kicked you out. Family doesn’t leave family behind, especially not the children.” Tommy brought his wrist closer, encouraging the vampire to drink.

After a seemingly long drawn war with his instincts, the boy gave in, latching on like a starving man. Tommy doesn’t doubt he was one.

Purpled didn’t drink for long. It was only a minute or two before the boy was reluctantly detaching himself from Tommy’s wrist.

He still looked hungry, but he was holding himself back to make sure he didn’t take too much. It was a sweet sentiment, even though Tommy wasn’t even lightheaded yet.

The werewolf gave Purpled a tight smile as the boy wiped his mouth, standing and offering out a hand. Purpled took it only after a moment of hesitation, being hoisted up and led out of the alley.

Tommy didn’t let his hand go as they walked. He led them down twisting turns and empty streets. There was an immense feeling of dejavú in the air, especially when they stopped in front of a familiar fire escape.

Purpled raised a weary eyebrow and took a step back, clearly recognizing it for what it was—Tommy’s den. This whole thing seemed sketchy as hell to the fledgling.

Tommy reached forward and grabbed his hand again, bringing it over his chest and laying it on his heart. Purpled could feel his slow heartbeat pulsating under his skin.

“A promise of protection.” Tommy murmured.

He wasn’t sure if Purpled truly understood—this was a werewolf custom after all, similar to vows. It was something done between spouses, between parents and their children, and between individuals who wanted to packbond. It was sacred.

For them, if someone was willing to allow you to feel their heartbeat, and if that pulse stayed steady, it indicated that they were telling nothing but the whole truth.

No one would bear their heart if they were a liar, and no one would dare lie when their heart would stutter and show the truth.

Purpled was a vampire, not a werewolf, yet he still moved closer and let himself be led up the fire escape. Tommy wasn’t sure if Purpled understood what just happened, but he didn’t have to, Tommy would show him.

The apartment light was already on by the time they got up, which Tommy was expecting. His packmates always noticed when he disappeared for a while, even when they were asleep.

It was like a sixth sense or something.

The werewolf rolled his eyes as he looked through the window to find Ranboo staring anxiously at the door while Tubbo was lighting dozing on the couch.

At least one of them loved him enough to be worried about his absence.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy steeled himself for what was about to come. In one swift movement, he opened the window and threw himself inside, jolting the two on the couch.

“Surprise fuckers!” He screeched, causing both werewolves to jump about a foot in the air.

Tubbo glared at him, rubbing his eyes. “Tom, you have about two seconds to get in here and explain yourself before I’m throwing you back out that fucking window.”

“You can’t de-fen-es-trate me! I’m injured.” Tommy gasped indignantly.

“Watch me, bitch.”

Tommy grumbled, but ducked his head and made his way over to the couch, wrapping himself in a soft wool blanket. The blood loss had left him a bit cold in the night chill.

Speaking of–

“Tommy, who’s that?”

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Chapter Text

Shit.

Tommy had honestly almost forgotten about the vampire he brought home. Purpled was shifting anxiously outside of the window, unsure if he was welcome in.

Tubbo was regarding him with a guarded look, as if waiting for him to even try something with his family. Ranboo looked worried, afraid for his brothers and unsure if he would be able to protect them.

Tommy just sighed fondly.

“That’s Purpled.” He said in a soft voice. “And he’s the vampire who tried to kill me.”

“WHAT?!”

The blond winced at the volume, and Purpled flinched back, hitting the railing of the fire escape. Tubbo and Ranboo looked furious.

“Why the fuck would you bring him here, Tommy? Are you fucking dense?” Tubbo shouted, already reaching for some holy water.

Ranboo snarled. “I’m going to send that vampire straight back to hell.”

Tommy grabbed his two packmates by the arms, halting their actions immediately. They looked incredibly high-strung, and maybe Tommy could have broached the subject more gently.

Purpled was still watching with wide eyes, looking two seconds from hurling himself off the platform.

“He’s harmless, guys.” Tommy insisted. “Just look at him.”

“He tried to put silver around your throat.” Tubbo replied stubbornly.

“A fledgling will always follow the orders of their coven, not that he has one anymore. Trust me, Tubbo, Purpled isn’t going to hurt any of us.”

The brunet grumbled angrily before stomping off to his room, Ranboo on his heels. The taller gave an uneasy look behind his shoulder before giving Tommy a slight nod.

He was trusting Tommy on this one.

Not that Tommy was going to let him down. Purpled truly was harmless. There’s no way he decided to attack the werewolf out of his own free will—someone had to have ordered him to do it.

No one who was that scared would try and attack a werewolf on their own.

Tommy sat back down, motioning for Purpled to come in. The boy did so gingerly, shuffling his feet and making himself seem as small as possible.

He stopped right in front of the couch, unsure if he was allowed to sit. Tommy wasn’t sure if the vampire would be okay being so close to him, so he motioned for him to sit on Ranboo’s gaming chair.

It’s almost like he’s been in this position before.

The blond chuckled at the parallel and Purpled gave him a strange look. The werewolf just shook his head and wrapped Purpled up in one of the blankets not part of the den.

The vampire looked so confused, and Tommy couldn’t help but laugh.

“You looked cold.” Tommy explained not unkindly.

That seemed to confuse the kid more. “I’m a vampire.”

“And you deserve to be warm.”

Purpled didn’t respond, not that Tommy expected much of a conversation. The boy was probably tired and hungry.

Fuck, he was probably hungry.

Abruptly, Tommy stood, making his way to the fridge. They obviously weren’t equipped to be feeding a vampire, but they had a few frozen blood bags in the freezer.

They were left there after the pack had a successful hunt and took down a whole deer. They drained it before butchering, and Ranboo had insisted on not throwing away the blood for whatever reason.

Tommy didn’t really care, he got to sneak nasty blood jello cubes into Tubbo’s coffee.

Grabbing the bags, the werewolf threw them into the microwave, warming them until they were liquid again.

He brought the bags to Purpled, who took them with a mildly confused expression. He turned to Tommy as if to ask a question, before promptly shutting his mouth.

“For me?” He rasped instead, licking his lips slightly.

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, they’re a bit old but they’re all we have right now.”

That was all Purpled needed in terms of permission, and the boy sank his fangs into the bag—like some sort of fucked up kid drinking a Capri Sun.

Tommy giggled a bit even as blood dripped down the other’s chin. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would find him scary. He was just a little baby.

“Don’t laugh at me, asshole.”

“Aww, is the little baby full?” Tommy teased, laughing harder.

Purpled threw the empty blood bag at his face. “Shut up.”

The werewolf made a face as a little splatter of blood hit his lips. The metallic taste wasn’t the worst, but it sure wasn’t the best.

“Alright, alright,” Tommy conceded, “you can have my bed tonight and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Purpled stilled on that, face changing from lighthearted to unsure. He shifted on the gaming chair, pulling his hoodie over his knees.

“Are you sure? I could take the couch–”

“No. The couch is the main part of our den, and our guest room is full of shit right now. We’ll clean it out for you tomorrow.” Tommy said bluntly, tapping his claw on his leg as he thought of the work that needed to be done.

Purpled started. “Wait, tomorrow?”

“Yeah, unless you got another place to stay?”

The silence that followed was telling enough, and soon, Tommy was leading Purpled into his room. They both looked like they were about to drop dead from exhaustion.

“Here, change into these–” Tommy shoved a handful of clothes into the vampire’s arms. “I’ll treat your injuries in the morning.”

Purpled blinked owlishly at the soft clothes and even softer bed.

“Thank you.” He said softly.

Tommy smiled. “Don’t worry about it, man. It’s been a long day.”

The vampire grinned then, fangs wide on display, and Tommy doesn’t know how he ever compared him to Wilbur.

“Ooo, is that a flower?”

“Don’t touch that!”

Tommy had expected to be woken up by his roommates in the morning, he really had.

He may have been on sick leave due to his injuries, but Ranboo and Tubbo had never been the quietest while getting ready for work.

“No, Tubbo, maple syrup is not a sufficient breakfast!” Ranboo shrieked at a ripe seven thirty in the morning.

“Who are you? My mother?” Tubbo screamed back just as Purpled came bumbling out of Tommy’s room. The noise must’ve woken him up too—not that Tommy’s surprised.

Ranboo turned away from the stove where pancakes were cooking. “I might as well be!”

“Oh, yeah? Then, why’d you abandon me, mom? You bitch!”

“Oh my god, it’s too early to be bringing up childhood trauma.”

“You’re the one who brought it up, arsehole!” Tubbo stamped his foot as the smell of smoke suddenly filled the air.

The stench was followed by frantic screeching from the fire alarm, and Ranboo turned back around just as his entire pan caught fire.

Ranboo, like the genius he is, tried to aim the faucet at it, while Tubbo yelled at him for making it worse. Wordlessly, Purpled grabbed the fire extinguisher and shot it at the stove, putting the flames out.

The two werewolves fell silent then, staring at Purpled, bewildered. They were covered in foam, soot, and tiny singes from their antics.

Tommy, who had been sitting on the couch and was acutely aware of the fire extinguisher this whole time, cleared his throat pointedly.

“You guys have ten minutes to leave the house before you’re late to work.”

Tubbo bit out a curse while Ranboo beelined it for the bathroom, the former immediately attempting to tackle the latter out of the way.

A chorus of ‘Thanks, Purpled!’ followed them as they left.

“Are they always like that?” The vampire asked once they were out of sight.

An exasperated sigh left Tommy, but it was fond. “Yeah.”

While Tubbo and Ranboo scrambled out of the house, Tommy threw an energy bar at each of them, snagging one for himself. He then tossed Purpled another warm blood bag.

The boy didn’t hesitate to drink it this time.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, the two blonds spending it cleaning out the guest room and reorganizing the apartment.

By the time they finished, it was already dinner time, and neither of them had taken a break. Ranboo and Tubbo would be home soon too.

Tommy technically hadn’t told the others that Purpled was staying, but he’s sure they wouldn’t mind. If they do, then that’s a problem for future Tommy.

The werewolf shot a text to his roommates to bring home dinner, as there was no way in hell Tommy and Purpled were cooking after all that work.

“Yo, Purpled,” Tommy called from where he was seated on the couch, a responding hum being heard, “do you have any preferences for dinner?”

The vampire stuck his head out of the kitchen, holding a tied garbage bag. “No, not really.”

“Okay, Tubbo’s bringing home chinese. What do you want?”

Purpled looked deep in thought. “I’ve never had chinese before.”

“What? Why not?!” Tommy gasped and almost dropped his phone, but he quickly righted himself and texted Tubbo about the devastating revelation that just occurred.

“I was uh, a street kid before I was a vampire, and as a vampire I only drank blood.”

“Oh my god.” Tommy stared at him in pure, visceral pain, as the mere thought of never having chinese food was like a stab to the heart.

“Uh– if it’s a problem–” Purpled started, suddenly nervous again.

“No,” The werewolf said resolutely, “no, now we just know we have to introduce you to every fuckin’ food there is until we find your favorite.”

“There’s no need for that–”

“No.”

“Tommy–”

The blond shushed him, stroking his head in sympathy, muttering nonsense like ‘you poor thing’ and ‘we’ll save you.’

Purpled just grumbled angrily, but Tommy saw the way he leaned into the touch.

Ranboo got home soon after, holding a suspicious amount of Target bags. He waved them in the air wildly, before handing some of the smaller ones to Purpled.

“I didn’t really know what you liked, past that you like the color purple, and so I just sort of picked out whatever is cute? If you don’t like it, that's fine! We can return it, I just thought– yeah.” The taller rambled as the vampire opened up the first bag.

Inside were deep violet bed sheets, and a small alien plushie. The plushie had six eyes, a cute purple spacesuit, and little fangs.

Purpled’s eyes began to well up, and just as Ranboo was about to start ranting again about not having to keep the stuff if he didn’t like it, the blond threw himself into the werewolf’s arms.

Ranboo looked down, surprised, before wrapping his arms around the smaller.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Purpled chanted like a mantra.

Ranboo’s eyes dilated. “Just wait until you see the other seven bags.”

Thirty minutes later, a distraught Tubbo barged through the door, with more than a few bags of takeout, only to find Purpled in tears staring at a newly decorated bedroom.

To his credit, his face didn’t portray any reaction, and he just announced that he had bought every single order off the menu for Purpled to try.

The vampire sputtered. “That’s such a waste of food!”

“We’ll just give the rest away! Either to friends, coworkers, or the homeless!” Tubbo grinned. “Everyone needs to eat.”

Purpled tried to protest more, but arguing against Tubbo was like trying to lift an elephant. The boy was ridiculously stubborn, you’d think he was more mule than wolf.

In the end, Purpled had to take a bite of every dish, and he decided that egg rolls were a direct gift from god.

Tommy disagreed, and he ended up with a face full of noodles.

Wilbur hadn’t seen Tommy in a few days, and he was worried. It wasn’t like the boy to miss out on coming to the cafe, even when he was injured or sick.

Hell, he had come right after the ordeal with Dream’s coven.

Speaking of, Phil and Techno were less than pleased about the whole fiasco once Wilbur had told them what happened. The dark look in their eyes promised vengeance, to which the brunet wholeheartedly agreed with.

Unfortunately, due to a bunch of diplomatic issues, the SBI’s coven couldn’t attack Dream’s. They weren’t that powerful on their own, so attacking Dream would accompany a boatload of risks.

However, if Dream dared to come after what was theirs again, he would surely regret it.

Anyway, Tommy not showing up was a clear cause for concern. He could have gotten sick, Dream could have gone and finished the job, he could have been kidnapped–

“Wilbur, all your thinking is giving me a headache.” Techno muttered, rubbing his temples.

“Well, sorry, I’m worried about my Tommy.” The brunet snapped back.

Phil sighed, one of his full lunged, old man sighs. “Worrying isn’t going to do shit, mate. It won’t make him come to you any faster.”

“It’ll make your hair fall out more, that’s for sure.” Techno snorted.

“More?” Wilbur parroted before turning to Phil. “That’s why we should go look for him! What if he’s in danger?”

“Or what if he just needs some time to himself?” Phil refuted. “You push his boundaries enough, mate.”

“Yeah, but–” Wilbur pouted.

“No buts, go clean the dishes in the back. I’ll let you know if Tommy shows up.” Phil ordered, giving Wilbur the dad™ look.

Wilbur obeyed, narrowly missing the chime of the front door.

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Chapter Text

“Tommy!” Phil and Techno’s voices were like music to his ears. He hadn’t seen them in what felt like forever.

“Techno! Philza!” Tommy called back, matching their energy.

The blond was panting slightly and leaning heavily on one leg. Accelerated healing apparently did not mean he couldn’t reinjure himself.

Based on the painful prickling sensation in his leg, Tommy bet that he refractured the damn thing. He vaguely remembered Tubbo yelling at him about not putting too much stress on a freshly healed bone.

Tommy didn’t really understand how he could stress out a bone, but maybe he could kind of see what Tubbo was getting at now.

Luckily, Ranboo had insisted on making him wear a leg brace for a few more days, so he still had some support for his refractured shin.

The brace was small and covert, hidden under his pants, but it really helped to make sure Tommy didn’t collapse under his own weight right now.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been running to the cafe, but he thought the pain in his leg was just a pulled muscle or something, so he didn’t stop and check on it.

He probably should have, but he was a little excited to be back. Just a little.

“Are you okay, mate?” Phil said gently, nothing but concern swirling in his eyes.

Tommy liked that about Phil. Despite being an ancient vampire and one of the most powerful beings, he still managed to look impossibly kind.

There was never malice in those eyes, at least not towards the werewolf.

“I’m okay, just hurt myself getting here.” Tommy replied easily, tail wagging as he looked around distractedly.

He was busy staring at a new light fixture they got—one shaped like a fluffy cloud with little blue sheep on top—when Techno suddenly appeared next to him.

Tommy just about jumped into the air, landing on his bad leg, which immediately gave out.

“Shit!”

A firm grip wrapped around the blond’s arm, preventing him from hitting the ground. He was quickly pulled up into a stable position before the grasp was released and Tommy stood face to face with a wide-eyed Techno.

The vampire cleared his throat, looking anywhere but Tommy. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His voice was soft and rumbly in the way Tommy liked, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of that vice-like grip.

They pressed into his wrists like chains.

(Tommy hated chains. They’re always so cold.)

The werewolf wrapped his arms around himself, tucking his hands into the inner parts of his elbows. Techno stood more than an arm’s length away with his palms up.

Tommy tried to remind himself that this was Techno. His hands were warm and callused, firm but not constricting. He would never keep Tommy in place.

But what if he would for Wilbur?

The blond’s head was spinning. Techno was supposed to be safe; he is safe. He’s safe until he’s not.

“Pup?” Techno called softly, staying planted in place.

“Hi.” Tommy said back, but it was far away.

“I got you a chair.”

The blond sat without thinking, and something warm was pressed into his hands. He looked around and saw Phil standing in front of him with a worried expression.

Tommy tried to speak, but no words would come out of his mouth. Instead he took a sip of the drink that found its way into his hands.

It was sweet and earthy, and it reminded him of Phil. The old man had always smelt like a warm, soothing blend of tea.

The fog in Tommy’s eyes lifted as he drank more. He began to notice how Phil looked almost sick with worry and Techno seemed to be two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack.

Groggily, the blond reached out a hand and grabbed Techno’s. He ignored every instinct engraved into him and brought the vampire’s hand to his cheek.

Techno’s hand was huge, so much so that Tommy’s looked tiny compared to it—and Tommy was no small man. The werewolf stood at a good six feet tall, albeit he was scrawny.

The vampire’s hand was large enough to wrap around his entire windpipe.

And yet, Tommy still brought it up to his face. He held it there gently, letting out a small rumble.

It was something that parents did to their pups, a reassurance of sorts. It was also akin to the purring that Techno did around Tommy.

The contact was short, a quick brush of the cheek before Techno’s hand was dropped again. The man looked terrified, awed, and completely at peace all at the same time.

Phil had stopped his fretting too, staring at the interaction with wide eyes. Tommy took another sip of his drink, quietly waiting until he didn’t feel so overwhelmed anymore.

Out of the corner of his vision, a dark blob stood in a doorway. Tommy didn’t feel like moving his head. He was safe here.

Wilbur was seething.

Phil told him he would say something if Tommy showed up, yet here they are, hanging out in the front without him.

It doesn’t help that Tommy seems to be unwell, considering he’s sitting down and Techno and Phil look frantic.

Gods, his boy was sick and they didn’t even come find him?

Wilbur cleared his throat, gaining the other vampires’ attention. The werewolf didn’t react more than a flick of his ears, which was concerning.

“Oh my god,” Phil spoke, hand raising to cover his mouth, “Wil, mate, I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you, I swear, but I got distracted.”

The brunet raised an unimpressed eyebrow, glancing at the drink in Tommy's hands. “‘Distracted’ huh?”

“He was freaking out.” Phil justified.

Wilbur’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “You should have come gotten me then.”

Techno was quick to come to their father’s defense. It wasn’t Phil’s fault anyway; Techno was guilty of causing this whole mess.

“Stop being difficult, Wil. We had to help Tommy first before we could go get you.”

“And why did Tommy need help?”

“He hurt his leg on the way over, almost fell over when I accidentally scared him, and then freaked out when I grabbed him and went catatonic.” Techno explained methodically, counting off the points on his fingers.

“He what?” Wilbur sputtered, trying to keep up with everything he just heard. “You grabbed him?”

“Oh, and then he purred at me.”

Wilbur went still at that, eyes peeled open and fangs bared. He could hardly believe it. Techno was purred at before Wilbur.

First he was losing to Dream and now this?

Wilbur was shaking—from anger or something else entirely, he wasn’t sure. He let out a low, displeased noise before opening his mouth to rip Techno a new one.

“Wilby?” A tinny voice rang out, and all the anger drained out of Wilbur’s body. “‘s ‘at you?”

The vampire moved closer to Tommy, stopping over a foot and a half away and kneeling on the floor so they were the same height.

Not that it mattered much though, as the blond seemed to be staring somewhere off into the distance. Wilbur just wanted to make sure it didn’t seem like he was trying to loom over the boy.

“Yes, sundrop?” He said, voice coated with honey and dripping with sweetness. “Do you need something?”

Tommy hummed out a negative, and continued to sip his tea. “J’st wanted t’ know.”

Wilbur—the hypocrite—now stared at the boy in concern. Even while sitting, Tommy seemed to be putting no pressure on one of his legs.

“Is everything okay, Tommy? Does anything hurt?”

“‘m okay. My leg ‘urts.”

“Can I look at it?”

That caused Tommy to move, the boy turning his head to stare straight into Wilbur’s eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he shied away slightly.

“No.”

“Okay.”

Tommy relaxed, and Wilbur felt a stake go through his heart. He hated that Tommy was scared of him, of what he could do.

Slowly, Wilbur stood up. He counted it as a win when Tommy didn’t even flinch. The vampire quickly turned around to the pastry display, while Phil and Techno continued to speak to the werewolf in low tones.

Wilbur took out a strawberry cheesecake. Tommy had loved the regular one so much last time, and he just seemed like a strawberry kind of guy.

The brunet brought the little cheesecake to Tommy on a paper plate. He didn’t want the blond to accidentally hurt himself if he dropped it.

Phil and Techno’s conversation had brought a little bit of sharpness back to the boy’s eyes, so Wilbur was less afraid of causing another freak out.

Still, he walked up to Tommy slowly, staying as far away as he could whilst handing over the cheesecake. The werewolf marveled over the thing, shaking his good leg in excitement.

“Smells like Techno.” He murmured, whatever the fuck that meant. “‘cept it doesn’t have enough blood.”

Tommy ate quietly, making soft snuffling noises while he did so. Techno wore a stupid soft smile on his face and Wilbur had to shove down the ugly feeling crawling in his stomach.

He’s not jealous that he’s not Tommy’s favorite, he’s not.

“Techno smells like strawberry cheesecake?” Phil said, trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.

Tommy nodded sagely. “And blood.”

“‘And blood’.” Techno echoed. “You can’t forget the blood.”

“You’re literally a vampire. Of course you smell like blood.” Wilbur deadpanned.

“Well, technically, I don’t even have blood, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Boys,” Phil warned lightly, “no fighting in front of Tommy.”

The blond in question stuck out his tongue, eyes much clearer now. “Ha, suck it guys. I’m the favorite.”

“I don’t pick favorites. I love all my sons equally.” Phil remarked snootily, like he had just gotten some great achievement.

Sons.

Tommy froze, barely remembering to breathe. He forced himself to take a deep breath; if he started to panic now, he knew the others would notice and start to worry.

The word was said so casually, and no one else seemed phased by it, no one but Tommy. Maybe they didn’t catch it. Phil was probably only referring to Wilbur and Techno anyway.

There was no way Phil considered Tommy to be his son.

Unknowing of the werewolf’s inner plight, Wilbur leaned down and stage whispered: “Techno’s the favorite.”

Tommy giggled while Phil whipped around to glare at the brunet.

“What was that?” The man asked sternly, mock anger rolling off of him.

Tommy loved how easy Phil was to read. He could easily see that the vampire wasn’t angry, the emotion being so plastic and not-Phil-like that it seemed ridiculous on the man’s face.

“I said I love the new crow decor on the walls.” Wilbur replied innocently, batting his eyelashes.

“Uh huh, sure you did.” Phil squinted his eyes suspiciously. “I put up that decor last week.”

“And it has looked awesome all week.”

“Aw, thanks, mate.”

Tommy groaned. “Wil, quit sucking up to Phil. You’re trying too hard.”

Wilbur turned back to the werewolf, sputtering as denials fell from his lips. The boy just shot him a cheeky grin, playing up the part of the annoying younger brother.

Maybe he liked the thought of being Phil’s son, just a little.

Maybe he liked Phil’s fond smiles and Techno’s reassuring presence. Maybe Wilbur wasn’t that bad.

Maybe Tommy will play pretend in his delusions just a little bit longer.

A timer went off in the background, and Phil spat out a curse before rushing to the back. Techno muttered something about the man burning himself on hot pans before moving to follow.

Wilbur turned back to the injured boy, winking. “I’m supposed to help get the pastries out too, but they can’t get mad if I'm keeping you company.”

“I am so much more than a scapegoat.” Tommy complained, flopping over the back of his chair dramatically.

“You really are.” Wilbur replied with a stupid soft look on his face.

The blond’s ear flicked back. He clearly wasn’t meant to hear that, and the darkness in Wilbur’s eyes made Tommy not want to point it out.

Instead, he continued rambling, pretending he didn’t hear a damn thing.

“I am so smart and awesome and sexy–”

“Okay, Tommy, you’re literally a minor, calm down.” The vampire rolled his eyes with no real annoyance.

“Doesn’t change the facts, Wil. I am still as hot as ever, and all the women want me.”

“What women? I’m not seeing any women.”

“They’re all at my home right now. Hot Girls one, two, and three to be exact.” The blond jutted his chin out and crossed his arms.

Wilbur just rolled his eyes again, before picking up the whole chair Tommy was sitting on. The werewolf squeaked, quickly grabbing onto his seat for dear life.

“What are you doing, you bastard?!”

Wilbur scoffed. “We can’t just have you sitting in the middle of the floor. I’m bringing you to a corner. Stop squirming.”

“I’ll stop squirming when you put me down!” Tommy shrieked, flailing even more.

The vampire grunted under the movement, but only put the chair down once they had reached the corner of the cafe.

“There! That wasn’t that bad, was it?” Wilbur said triumphantly, grinning to himself.

Tommy stuck out his tongue at the man. “I am going to clart your kneecaps, Wilbur. You better watch out.”

“Sure, gremlin. You can’t even walk on your own. Worry about your own knees.” Wilbur laughed brightly, before pausing. “Shit, how are you going to get home?”

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Chapter Text

“Oh, fuck.”

Tommy stared at his leg dumbfoundedly. He doesn’t even think he could stand up right now without immense pain, never mind make the trek home.

Wilbur worried at his lower lip, pulling at his fingers until they cracked. He looked down at Tommy in deep thought, possible solutions running through his head.

The man would be delighted to take Tommy home himself, even if it was to the boy’s own apartment instead of Wilbur’s nest. However, he had a feeling Tommy wouldn’t be very fond of that idea.

Instead, he had another idea. One that Wilbur loathed, but that Tommy would probably prefer.

“You could call Tubbo or Ranboo?” The man suggested, keeping his voice smooth.

He didn’t want to upset the blond with any obvious hostility, even if the mere mention of the other packmates grated on his ears.

It seemed so stupid to call someone else for help when Wilbur was right there.

But he’d do anything for his Tommy.

“No,” The werewolf shook his head, “they’re at work right now and won’t get off until later.”

The two stared at each other, looking utterly hopeless. Just as Wilbur was about to suggest his original plan of bringing Tommy home himself, the blond’s eyes lit up.

“Oh my god, I could just call Purpled.” The boy exclaimed, taking out his phone. “Why didn’t I think of that sooner? He’ll be able to get here in no time.”

“Who’s Purpled?” Wilbur titled his head in disdain, but Tommy was already on the phone.

He didn’t know who this ‘Purpled’ was, but he seemed to be pretty close to his Tommy, and that was not okay.

He was probably also a werewolf, which meant more mutts crawling around his cafe.

Better than another vampire, he supposed.

Wilbur doesn’t know what Tommy sees in those dogs he hangs around with, the blond is the first and only good werewolf he’s ever met.

Tommy was too nice for his own good though, and he could probably befriend the devil, so maybe this was typical for him.

Wilbur tuned out the phone call, not wanting to be rude. It was short anyway. Tommy just asked the other boy to pick him up since he was hurt, nothing more.

Tommy’s tail wagged after he hung up, and Wilbur’s scowl deepened. The werewolf caught his eye with an all-too-knowing expression, ears flattening to his head.

Immediately, the vampire tried to soften his glower—he really needed to stop upsetting Tommy—but the kid had already seen his face.

Wilbur moved to apologize and make up an excuse for his anger, but he was stopped when a soft hand was pressed into his own.

The brunet glanced down in disbelief, but Tommy was truly holding his hand. The boy’s hand seemed so small compared to the older’s, even though he was only a few inches shorter in height.

The hand was partially shifted, and Wilbur could feel the squishy finger pads pressing into his skin and each claw-tipped nail.

The man desperately wanted to give it a gentle squeeze. He wanted to pull Tommy into a hug and never let go. He wanted to stare at each finger and marvel at his sundrop’s control over his shifts.

Wilbur did none of that. He stood completely still and let Tommy interlock their fingers, brushing over Wilbur’s knuckles with his thumb.

He felt that the moment he moved, the scene would shatter.

Their little bubble of peace broke as a bell chimed from behind Wilbur. Instinctively, the brunet stepped in front of Tommy to shield him from view.

Phil came bumbling out from the back, eyeing the newcomer with a guarded but kind look. The kid stared lazily back, lollipop hanging out of his mouth.

“Can I help you, mate?” Phil said politely, not letting the fact that he was uncomfortable with another vampire being so close to Tommy show.

“Nah,” The kid looked around the cafe without much interest, “I’m here for the werewolf.”

Wilbur instantly stood up straight and tried to use his body to cover the blond behind him more, while Phil stepped around the counter to get in between the vampire and his sons.

As if on cue, Techno appeared on the scene, baring his fangs at the tense interaction he just walked in on.

“You’re one of Dream’s fledglings. I can practically smell him on you.” Techno growled, as he picked up a large kitchen knife.

“Not anymore.” The kid said bluntly, seemingly unperturbed by the threatening behavior displayed in front of him.

Nothing scared him anymore, not after Dream.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“Yes, it does.” The fledgling spat, baring his own fangs back at Techno.

Phil took a step forward to either deescalate or put the kid in his place. The boy barely moved. It didn’t matter what they said to him, they couldn’t touch him under the protection of Tommy.

“Purpled!” A cheery voice rang out, as if oblivious to everything that had just transpired. “You made it!”

“You know him, sundrop?” Wilbur turned and looked at Tommy with conflicting eyes.

The werewolf gave a happy bark. “Know him? I called him!”

Wilbur looked up again. “You must be Purpled, then.”

No shit, Purpled thought. The teen gave a half-assed salute. “The one and only.”

“How can we know you’re trustworthy?” Techno cut in. “You’re one of Dream’s.”

“I was one of Dream’s.” Purpled snapped right back, getting fed up with the pinkette.

Tommy yipped, nervous as two of his favorite people were fighting. He didn’t know how to break it up without physically getting in between them—which was not a good idea with a fractured leg.

Purpled caught Tommy’s eye, and the werewolf inclined his head at the vampire. Immediately, the vampire went careening around Techno to get to the blond.

He sidestepped Wilbur and picked Tommy up easily, gathering the boy in his arms like a damsel in distress.

Tommy was practically a pretty princess, anyway.

“Well, excuse me, boys, but I think it’s time we take our leave.” Purpled shot the others a smug grin as he carried Tommy out.

Wilbur looked shocked at Tommy’s blatant trust and willingness to give up control, and Tommy made sure to wag his tail extra hard just to stick it to the man.

The wagging tail also made sure that the coven knew he was safe and didn’t follow them or try to kidnap Purpled, as Tommy had never actually given any form of verbal consent—merely letting Purpled have his moment of satisfaction.

Purpled let out a deep sigh as they left the establishment, body physically buckling with the release of tension. He may put up a fierce facade, but the kid was scared shitless—especially when facing larger, much older vampires.

(Especially when facing other coven leaders.)

Purpled’s body sagged, but he didn’t dare fall to the floor and drop Tommy. He knew the others were still watching him through the window, and he would also feel really bad dropping the kid who saved him.

(Perhaps he was a little scared of the power the werewolf had over him, being his landlord and only means of acquiring food.)

The vampire shifted Tommy into a more comfortable hold, and Tommy ended up with his nose in Purpled’s neck. The werewolf snuffled a bit before licking his lips in satisfaction.

Purpled made a disgusted noise. “Okay, okay, we get it: you’re comfortable. You don’t have to lick me.”

Tommy stuck out his tongue in retaliation, and the vampire let out several unholy shrieks as Tommy slipped his eyes shut once more.

Purpled smelled like freshly laundered clothes—a refreshing mix of sweet floral scents with soft fruity undertones. There were hints of honey in his scent as well as something bitter and earthy, like moss.

It was giving straight cottegecore vibes, and Tommy nestled into the scent. He rubbed the top of his head and ears under the vampire’s jaw, scenting him with a bit of Tommy so everyone knew that he was under the protection of a wolf pack.

With that assurance, the werewolf let sleep claim him.

He woke up to a take-out bag being pressed into his hands. Inside was a loaded-up burger, cheese fries, and a large coke.

“I, uh, didn’t know what to do, but Tubbo said to keep you fed. He said protein was especially good but carbs would help too.” Purpled stammered, cheeks tinted pink.

No, he was not soft for Tommy, shut up. He didn’t care if the blond got better. He was simply paying his debt and being a decent person, that’s all.

(His heart soared when he saw Tommy’s eyes light up at the food—like Purpled had handed him a million bucks instead of a greasy meal.)

“This is perfect.” Tommy mouthed around his burger, bits of it flying out as he spoke. “Thank you.”

The vampire wiped his shirt in disgust. “Focus on eating, man. That’s disgusting.”

Tommy laughed, getting more food everywhere, and Purpled cursed loudly. He went to his room to change out of his now-soiled shirt.

Yeah, his room.

Purpled had a permanent spot in their home, and he wasn’t going anywhere soon.

When the vampire emerged with a new, clean shirt, Tommy was licking the grease off his fingers. Purpled scrunched up his nose at the action, making Tommy let out a cackling bark.

Ranboo chose that exact moment to come home, and he walked in on Tommy laughing maniacally as he threatened Purpled by wiggling his greasy, slobbery fingers.

“What happened?” He sputtered, barely comprehending the whole scene after his long working day.

Tommy grinned like a feral dog. “Doesn’t matter, Ranboob! You’re next!”

Tubbo then walked in on Ranboo screaming bloody murder while Purpled cowered under the coffee table. They were being awfully dramatic towards someone who couldn’t get off the couch.

The brunet let out a long-drawn sigh, walked over to Tommy, picked him up by the scruff, and brought him to the sink to wash his hands.

The boy thought about protesting for a second, but one look from Tubbo had him lathering up for thirty seconds.

Everyone knows you can’t disobey the Tubbo Look™. Even Tommy.

The blond was set back onto the couch haphazardly, crossing his arms and pouting at the clear mistreatment.

Tubbo pinched the bridge of his nose. “So what am I hearing about a refractured leg? Didn’t I specifically say to stay off it?”

“No,” Tommy complained, “you said not to stress it!”

“Those are the same thing, Tom!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that!? I just thought you meant to keep it away from our taxes or some shit.”

Ranboo’s eyes were blown wide. “We pay taxes?”

“No, of course we don’t!”

“You don’t pay taxes?!” Purpled yelled in distress. “What the fuck, man?”

“Fuck the government!” Tubbo growled, sticking his hands up straight in the air and cheering.

Tommy tried to join in with the government slander, but quickly received the Tubbo Look™ again. Apparently, the fun police had decided that he was not allowed to have fun until his leg was splinted.

Purpled looked at him complacently as Tommy stared grumpily at the floor. Unluckily for him, his shit-eating grin did not protect him from eating shit—as Tommy did not hesitate to hit him square in the forehead with the crumpled up take-out bag.

Tubbo returned before any retaliation could be taken, and Purpled settled for just glaring at Tommy as the werewolf was forced into a stiff cast.

The disdain on Tommy’s face at the uncomfortable, tight feeling was good enough revenge for him.

Tommy waved his leg around, accidentally kicking Ranboo and causing him to fold in half like origami. There were equal amounts of laughing and apologies as the taller whined on the floor.

Purpled’s phone rang, but the boy let it go to voicemail, unwilling to ruin the moment of ecstasy he was in. Everyone who he would pick up the phone for was right here, after all.

The werewolves gave him a questioning look, and the vampire merely shook his head, declining the call without looking.

That night, once everyone had retired to their room and Tommy was specifically instructed to not leave the flat, Purpled checked his call logs.

A name sat there in bold red, accompanying a daunting voicemail.

Purpled never thought of purging his contacts, after all it hasn’t even been that long, but right now he wished he could pretend that the call was from an unknown string of numbers.

Instead, he stared down at Dream’s name on his phone as his hands shook.

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.

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Chapter Text

Wilbur was being clingy again.

Well, he always was, but today was worse for some reason. He seemed stressed, dark circles taking residence beneath his eyes and his hair untamable on the top of his head.

Tommy walked—or hobbled, on his tightly casted leg—into the cafe to get himself a warm cookie. It was quite cold, but his apartment complex had yet to turn on the heat, so he figured he might as well go out for a walk.

When he entered the coffee shop, Wilbur’s gaze immediately snapped to him and then down to his cast.

The man threw himself over the counter and cupped Tommy’s face harshly. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it until the blond let out a weak growl, at which he softened his grip.

“Sorry, sorry,” The crazed man mumbled, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Are you okay?” Tommy squirmed as Wilbur began rubbing circles into his cheeks.

“Dream came in earlier today.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened. “I don’t want to hear about him.”

“You know, Tommy, Dream–” Wilbur started again, completely disregarding Tommy’s wish.

“I don’t want to hear about him!” The werewolf snapped loudly, trying to pull Wilbur’s hands off him to no avail.

For a second, Wilbur’s eyes darkened and a scowl pulled at his lips. It was gone in a blink, but it was enough for Tommy to freeze up.

He doesn’t know how he had forgotten that he was in dangerous territory, that Wilbur could not be trusted.

“Tommy, can you just listen to me this one time?” The vampire pleaded, but what he meant to be gentle words came out a lot sharper than intended.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to be here right now. He wanted to be at home with his pack. His pack would protect him.

Wilbur continued despite the blond’s apprehension. “Dream is not a good man. You can’t trust him. He’ll just hurt you again, and I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

The brunet kept his hands on Tommy’s face, preventing him from moving away.

“Wilbur–” The boy began before instantly getting cut off.

“No, I need you to understand this. Dream doesn’t care about you, regardless of what he tells you. You’re just prey to him.”

“I–”

“He says awful things about you when you're not here. He wants you for your pelt, nothing else.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot!” Tommy finally shouted, ripping free from Wilbur’s grasp.

The vampire stood there, frozen in shock. He clearly wasn’t expecting Tommy’s outburst. He should’ve, in all honesty, as Tommy had never been one to sit still and shut up.

Wilbur reached out again, displeased that his brother was no longer in his arms. He needed to hold him close, especially with Dream hiding behind every corner.

Tommy wrenched himself away again.

“No! I am sick and tired of your shit, Wilbur. Everyone, no matter how kind, has a fucking breaking point.”

The blond pointed an accusatory finger at Wilbur, claws on full display. The werewolf refused to let the other get a word in, treating him exactly how he treated Tommy.

Tommy listened to Wilbur, now it was time for Wilbur to listen to him.

“I have a limit that can’t be crossed. I may be kind, but I am not weak, and I am not a fucking pushover. I didn’t get to where I am today by taking disrespect from tories like you.”

Tommy was absolutely seething. He walked up close to Wilbur, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling them nose to nose. His gaze was burning as he stared straight into Wilbur’s amber eyes.

“I’m a kid, but I’m not an idiot. You’ve been selling me short for far too long. It’s time that stops.”

Wilbur didn’t speak, not even a word. He stood still and stared at Tommy with something indiscernible in his eyes. His brows were furrowed and his expression was unreadable.

Good. Tommy was sick of the overly-affectionate, overly-condescending Wilbur.

“I’ve known Dream was behind all this the moment he sent a fucking fledgling to try and capture me.”

Tommy took a step forward. Wilbur took one back.

“You don’t need to police my whole life and tell me things I already know. I’m not fucking dense.”

“I never said you were.” Seems like the vampire found his voice.

Tommy scowled. “Then stop treating me like I am.”

His words meant nothing to Tommy. They were sweet and superficial, all fluff and filler.

Tommy made eye contact with Wilbur, and the brunet’s expression was cold. None of Tommy’s words had truly sunk in.

There was no big revelation—no dawning that shattered the vampire's prerogative. All he saw was the werewolf, huffing and puffing like an unruly toddler.

Wilbur was the fed-up parent, sick of his tantrums.

The door chimed as it closed. It only closed once.

Purpled hated the bells hung above the cafe door. They were too high-pitched and annoying for his liking.

Not to mention, he’s not even liked around here. It’s kind of ironic how he is more welcome in werewolf territory than that of his own kind.

Nevertheless, he was sent to the bakery to pick up a cake. Ranboo got a promotion at the daycare, and everyone was happy for him.

Purpled was happy for him too, he just wasn’t happy to be in this cafe again, but everyone in the household knew that this place would have the best cakes in the city.

So, here he was.

The same brown-haired bitch he saw the other day was at the counter. His name tag said ‘Wilbur’. At least dealing with him was better than the pink-haired bitch who threatened to hurt Purpled.

‘Wilbur’ looked up as the boy walked inside. He gave the kid a disgruntled look, like Purpled was a disgusting rat in his establishment.

“Oh, it’s you again.” The man said with a scrunch of his nose.

“Yeah, it’s me again. What of it?” Purpled snarked right back.

“Don’t give me that attitude. I’m not apart of the coven who tried and failed to kill Tommy.”

“Neither am I.” Purpled replied coolly. Wilbur didn’t need to know he was actually the one who tried to collar Tommy first.

If he knew, the fledgling doesn’t think he would still be standing.

Wilbur just rolled his eyes at the kid’s response. He sat up straight with a sigh and started his customer service script, albeit unenthusiastically.

Purpled gave him a tight smile, before ordering a sixteen inch funfetti cake—Ranboo’s favorite.

“Vanilla or chocolate frosting?” Wilbur asked boredly.

Purpled just stared at him without saying anything.

“What?” The man let some irritation bleed into his voice. “How am I supposed to know what you like?”

“I live in a house of werewolves. What do you think the flavor of frosting is going to be?”

Wilbur paused. “You live with them?”

“Yeah,” Purpled shifted uncomfortably, “I do. What about it?”

The older vampire’s face contorted at that. His eyebrows turned down and his pupils turned to pinpricks. He looked like Dream when he was mad.

Purpled didn’t flinch. Dream hated it when he flinched. Wilbur couldn’t hurt him anyway, as Purpled belonged to Tommy and they both knew it.

(Tommy said he didn’t ‘own’ anyone, but Purpled knew better than to believe that. He didn’t mind being owned anyway, especially not by someone like Tommy.)

Wilbur said nothing as he walked into the back room. Pinkie and blondie poked their heads out soon after, probably noticing their coven member’s ire.

Dream always checked up on George at any inkling of something being wrong.

Pinkie’s lips pulled up at the sight of Purpled, flashing fangs larger than any the boy had seen. Blondie furrowed his brows and disappeared to follow Wilbur.

Purpled flashed his fangs right back, surprising Pinkie, who probably thought he could subdue Purpled like any other obedient fledgling.

Too bad Purpled didn’t give a shit about anyone’s authority.

Wilbur came back with the cake soon enough, slamming it down on the counter roughly. Blondie was trailing behind him and gave him a disappointed look.

“Can I ask what’s the cake for, mate?” Blondie, or ‘Phil’ as his name tag stated, asked.

Purpled tapped his foot impatiently. “Ranboo got a promotion.”

“I see. Wilbur, do the lettering in the back real quick, please.”

Wilbur disappeared once more, and Pinkie—‘Techno’—took his place beside Phil.

“Look, mate, I know you know that vampires aren’t the most…sharing kind of people.” Phil started slowly. “We don’t like people touching what’s ours.”

“He’s just as much mine as he is yours.” The kid replied coldly.

“No, he’s not.” Techno said harshly. “Your coven tried to kill him. You don’t get the right to call him yours.”

Gods, why are these people so obsessed with the coven thing? “And, yet, I’m the one celebrating Ranboo’s promotion with them and you're not.”

Techno scowled, getting rather huffy. “What even is your relationship with Tommy, huh?”

“He lives with them.” Wilbur interjected as he returned with the cake box, ringing up the total.

Purpled pulled out the money Tommy gave him while Techno seemed to grow angrier at the brunet’s words.

Gingerly, Phil rested a hand on Techno’s arm, and that seemed to keep him in check. It was ridiculous how they were all acting—like they thought he had any say in what happened with Dream.

As vampires, they should know a fledgling has no power to weigh in on any sort of decision. He was powerless

Purpled said nothing as he put the money down, took the cake, and left. He held the box delicately to his chest, as if someone would try to mug him for a funfetti cake.

As soon as the absurdity of the action crossed his mind, he was pulled into an alleyway and a hand was placed over his mouth.

A familiar metallic scent filled his nose, and a flash of neon green passed through the corner of his eye.

Purpled’s breathing quickened, and he felt as if he couldn’t get enough of the air he didn’t need. It was hard to remember that he wasn’t alive anymore.

“Quit being dramatic, you baby.” A condescending voice cooed in his ear. “You’re alright. I just came to check up on you.”

The hand released its vice like grip on his face, allowing Purpled to turn around. The fledgling planned to lunge immediately, but was stopped by a low hiss and a hand to his chest.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You wouldn’t want to ruin this beautiful cake, would you? Think about how mad Tommy would be that you wasted his money.”

Purpled froze. Every warning bell inside of him was going off, and his instincts screamed at him to try and make a break for it, but he couldn’t.

Logically, he knew Tommy wouldn’t care about the money—that Ranboo would be more glad that he’s safe than mad about the cake being ruined—but that didn’t stop the hesitation.

He didn’t want to be a disappointment. The last time he was a disappointment, he had lost the only family he’d ever known.

“Dream,” Purpled said casually, “what do you want?”

“What?” The man scoffed. “I can’t just pay a visit to my little fledgling whenever I want?”

“I’m not your fledgling, and you don’t do things without a reason.”

“So skeptical, gods. Well, I suppose I can let your disrespect slide this time since you are right. I always knew I trained you well.” Dream replied lightheartedly, like there wasn’t a bite to his words or venom in his fangs.

“What do you want? I’m busy right now.”

“Too busy for your own sire? I’m wounded, fledgling.”

The endearing name grit on his ears. While many sires used it as an affectionate title for their new bloods, Dream had always used it in a way that called Purpled inexperienced and weak.

This time was no different. Dream had Purpled cornered with nowhere to run and the boy was helpless to do anything about it.

“Do you need anything or can I leave?” Purpled was grabbing the cake box so hard that he was afraid he would dent it. Then, he would be a disappointment either way.

Dream tutted. “Oh, Purpled, we’re just getting started. I have a lot of questions for you.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“And that’s where you're wrong. I know all about your new living arrangements with Tommy and his pack. You can’t hide anything from me.”

Purpled’s breath stuttered, but Dream didn’t stop at that.

“If you don’t tell me now, I’ll still find out eventually, and by then there’ll be some pretty bad consequences, don’t you think?”

Dream smiled sadistically.

“So how about you be a good little fledgling and answer your sire?”

.

.

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Chapter Text

“Why isn’t he back yet? He’s usually never late.”

“Maybe he’s taking the scenic way home.”

“He never takes the scenic way home.”

Purpled was sweating as he was backed further and further into a literal and metaphorical corner. He was stuck; Dream had all the power here.

“Alright, let’s begin. How did you meet Tommy?”

“I met him at the party. You made me put silver around his neck.” Purpled spat out, refusing to make this easy for Dream.

Dream tutted. “You know that’s not what I’m asking, little bloodling.”

Purpled leaned back, pressing himself against the uncomfortable brick wall behind him. Dream took another step forward.

“Clock’s ticking.” The sire taunted. “You know I’m not the most patient man.”

Purpled hissed.

“He’s been gone way too long. I’m starting to get worried.”

“He’s probably okay. He can take care of himself, you know? He doesn’t need us breathing down his neck.”

“I know, I know, but I’m just worried about him. What if something happened?”

“I’m sure he can handle it. The kid isn’t dumb, and he’s tough as shit.”

“If you say so.”

Scrapes littered Purpled’s face. He did not bleed, but the wounds were raw and oozing. Dream tightened his grip on the fledgling’s hair, drawing out a pained whine.

“You’re not listening.” Dream clicked his tongue as he spoke down to Purpled. “What happened? You were always so obedient.”

Purpled staggered to his feet, and only because Dream allowed him to. He looked the sire directly in the eyes, and spat in his face.

“You can’t control me anymore.”

Dream wiped the bile off his cheek with a deep glower. His eyes were glowing red as he looked back at Purpled, and even with the promise of pain, the boy didn’t regret his actions.

Dream would never be able to control him again, and he would never lay another finger on Tommy.

“It’s been hours, man. I don’t think this counts as a normal amount of time to be MIA.”

“What if he ran away? Should we call the cops?”

“I don’t think he ran away. He wouldn’t leave all this behind, especially his room.”

“Yeah, and the cops won’t do shit anyway. We have a better chance of finding him ourselves.”

“Purpled used to be a street kid, he knows how to stay hidden. The police might scare him further away.”

“What if he doesn’t want us to find him?”

“Well, what if he does?”

Purpled was covered in black marks of soot and searing burns. The cake was long forgotten, and his knees ached from where he kneeled on the ground.

Dream grumbled angrily above him, and despite his cracked and stinging lips, the fledgling smiled.

He hoped to break Dream like Dream had broken him.

The outcome didn’t matter to him anymore. It would end badly either way, either by the hands of Dream or Tommy.

Tommy would be more merciful.

Purpled was hit with another blast of magic, and he ragdolled against the wall. He looked around lazily, as if the spells had no effect on him.

He swallowed back the sticky substance that rose up his throat. It definitely was more than just bile.

He thought about spitting it at Dream, but it would probably just serve to tell the man his attacks were hurting.

“Are you done yet?” Dream said as he pressed his foot into Purpled’s stomach, making the urge to throw up came back. “Are you done with your little rebellion?”

Purpled didn’t respond, he didn't even think he could without vomiting on the spot. The sire softened the pressure on Purpled’s stomach slightly, eyes softening.

Those eyes meant nothing but trouble.

Purpled pulled the foot down, pushing it harder into himself.

“I’m going to go look for him.”

“Do you want us to help?”

“Someone needs to stay here in case he returns.”

“I can do it. My hearing is shot from all those years ago, so I’d be less useful in a search.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I never said it was. I’m just being factual here. I wouldn’t be as helpful.”

“Okay, us two will go out then. Call me if you need anything, or if he comes back.”

“Of course.”

“Stay safe.”

“I always am.”

“You’re such a liar, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love me anyways.”

“I do.”

“You’re being difficult. I have half a mind to drag you back to the coven and let them at you.” Dream muttered, holding Purpled’s chin in his hand.

“That wouldn’t be as fun for you though, would it?” Purpled tried to joke, but it fell flat.

“No, it wouldn’t,” Dream agreed easily, “but it would be entertaining.”

“And this is not?”

“Oh, it is. You’re a fun puzzle to break, fledgling.”

Purpled paused. “You don’t break a puzzle. You solve it.”

Dream smiled, grin all too sharp.

“Well it’s got to be one or the other, right? So, tell me Purpled, which will it be?”

The kid didn’t respond, as his attention was elsewhere, specifically on the footsteps he could hear a few streets away.

When Dream had initially caught him, it was already around dinner time and the sun was setting. Now, the sun had long gone to sleep, and stars littered the sky.

Very few werewolves should be out at this time, especially in an area so close to vampire territory. Not to mention that the footsteps Purpled was hearing were quick and frantic.

No werewolf was going to go on a casual run at this hour.

Dream looked up at the noise too, scanning the streets. He looked back down with an enraged face, as if Purpled had something to do with the footsteps.

Well, in a way he sort of did.

Purpled grinned, despite how it hurt to move his face, and then, he screamed.

“You have his plushie, right?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to catch a scent trail now.”

“We can start near the cafe. Maybe Wilbur, Techno, or Phil had seen something.”

“Good idea. I'll see if I can pick anything up on the way.”

“Same.”

“Shit, was that screaming?”

“I think so, but who would be screaming at this hour?”

“Oh fuck.”

Dream clamped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The scream verberated through the desolate streets, echoing between the buildings.

“You brat.” Dream growled, more feral than the werewolves he hated. “I give you a new life and this is how you treat me?”

Purpled smiled. “You gave me a new life I never wanted. This is what you deserve.”

“You were nothing before me. You were vermin, starving and alone.”

Purpled was about to say something snarky back—about how Dream didn’t cure his hunger or loneliness—but he never got the chance to.

Full claws clicked on the concrete outside the alleyway, and there was an audible sniffing noise.

Dream curled his fingers around Purpled’s neck, giving it a light squeeze that meant ‘be quiet’.

However, it was no use. You couldn’t hide from a werewolf who was already on your trail. There was no way to stop the shallow breaths a person took, or the smell of their scent permeating the air.

Werewolves were hunters, and they had just cornered their prey.

A deep, guttural sound filled the air, and Purpled had never been so relieved to hear that terrifying noise. Tommy’s promise of protection underlied the whole thing.

The werewolves’ steps were slow and calculated, silent at the figures creeped closer. They stepped into a streetlight, and only then did the vampires see them in their entirety.

Tommy’s eyes were narrowed to pinpricks, glued onto Dream’s form standing over Purpled. Ranboo was similar, but he was crouched and contorted into a grotesque way on the floor.

They looked animalistic—like monsters. Purpled thought they looked beautiful.

“Dream.” Ranboo garbled out. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Ranboo.” Dream greeted just as coolly, though Purpled could feel the way his fingers tensed and twitched. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It has.” Ranboo’s lip curled. “I wish it stayed that way.”

Dream took a menacing step forward. “What do you mean? Are you scared? Don’t be, I’m your friend.”

“Let me clarify: I wish it stayed that way for your sake, not mine.”

Tommy sighed, a deep, bone-settling sigh.

“You’re so ugly to look at.” He bemoaned, and Purpled stifled a laugh.

Tommy was acting nonchalantly for such a serious situation, and it put the fledgling at ease. It made it seem like everything was okay, that the threat could be easily handled.

Without warning, Dream hissed out in pain, staggering back and releasing Purpled from his grip.

His face was distorted in agony, and before Purpled could ponder the reason why, a wild Tubbo fell from the sky.

“That’s what you get, bitch.” The brunet jeered, kicking Dream in the back of the knees so he buckled to the ground.

Ranboo kept him pinned to the ground, claws digging into the man’s shoulders. He growled as his body twisted into an immovable object—a cage to make sure Dream stayed where he was while they helped Purpled.

The vial of holy water in Tubbo’s hands caused Purpled to flinch and Dream to cower. However, the fledgling’s fear dissipated as Tubbo made one last sneer at Dream, and then immediately turned around to crouch at Purpled’s side.

“Where are you hurt? I didn’t have time to bring everything, but I have a few healing pots with me right now.” The boy rambled, and Purpled smiled softly.

Tommy smacked Tubbo on the top of his head. “Quit hovering, you’re going to overwhelm him.”

“My bad for caring.” Tubbo said sarcastically, swatting at his best friend’s hand.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Shut up, you know we were all worried.”

Purpled’s heart warmed at that. Even though he knew they cared for him deep down, it was nice to hear it sometimes.

“I’m fine.” Purpled finally spoke. “I have a few injuries but nothing too bad.”

He chose to not mention the way his gut was churning.

“So, you can drink the healing pot? It should fix everything right up.” Tubbo asked, waving the shimmering bottle in the air.

The fledgling grimaced, but nodded. Tommy saw his moment of hesitance and cocked his head to the side curiously. A realization dawned on his face.

“Give him regen instead of healing; it settles better in the stomach.” He spoke, ears flicking side to side.

Tubbo just nodded, passing Purpled a bright pink bottle without question. It tasted like sickly sweet strawberries, and fizzled despite its thick viscosity.

The syrup was heavy as it went down his throat, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. Purpled could already feel the effects pulsating at his injuries.

Tommy helped the boy stand, supporting his weight as he stumbled. Tubbo followed suit as a second crutch, even if he was more like an armrest.

“I’m guessing there’s no more cake?” Tommy laughed humorously, although he was not one bit upset about the missing dessert.

Purpled felt a wave of shame go over him, and if you asked, he would claim that his pink flush was from the potion doing its work.

“Uh– no. It’s kind of, um, gone now.” He stammered, words—er, the potion—causing his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth.

Tubbo nudged him gently. “It’s alright, boss man, no big deal. We can celebrate another day, or without a cake.”

“I was in a more savory mood anyway.” Tommy said with a wink. “Let’s head back and make one of those big fuckin’ ramen bowls we eat on lazy days.”

“It’ll be a ramen cake.”

Purpled ducked his head down, not in embarrassment or fear, but in adoration. No one needed to see the stupidly soft look on his face.

He cleared his throat. “As long as there’s no icing on it, I’m down.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “And if there is?”

Purpled gave him a bewildered look, but before he could reply a loud ‘then fuck no’, a garbled noise caught his attention.

Turning around, he saw Dream struggling on the floor, Ranboo’s hands keeping the vampire’s jaws firmly clamped shut.

It sounded like Dream was trying to scream something, but it could only come out muffled. None of the werewolves seemed to care what he had to say at all.

Purpled shouldn’t either, and yet he couldn’t help but feel bad watching the man that sired him.

“Let’s go home guys.” Purpled said, putting more weight on Tommy.

It didn’t take much convincing, and soon Ranboo was standing over Dream, holding his own vial of holy water.

“This isn’t over.” He growled, backing up slowly towards the group.

Tommy flashed his teeth, canines looking massive in his tiny form. They were fitted for a wolf and could put any vampire to shame.

“The next time I see you,” Tommy growled, “you’re fucking dead. You hear me?”

Dream ignored the threat, focusing all his attention on Purpled. The man smoothed out his glower, looking expectantly at the fledgling.

“Come on, Purpled. Come back to the coven. We miss you.”

Purpled said nothing, he turned away again. Dream tried to speak to him again.

“Purpled.” He said, a bit more sternly.

He got no response.

“Purpled.” His voice had a sharp edge to it, like it always did when Dream was upset.

“Fledgling.” He finally said, causing the kid to flinch violently. Dream was using the same voice as when Purpled was in trouble and needed punishing.

Tommy stepped in between the two vampires, Ranboo taking his place under Purpled’s arm.

He growled again, but Dream was unfazed.

“Purpled, you listen to me right now, or I swear to Prime you will regret it.” He snarled, and Purpled turned against his will, facing the man that haunted his waking moments with a clarity that the others never held over him.

Everything would be so much easier if he was another unnamed and forgotten face.

Dream’s voice was steely as he spoke. “You listen to me when I address you, understand? Because I am your sire and you do as I say.”

“No.” Purpled whispered so softly it was almost lost in the wind.

“What?” Dream laughed in disbelief.

“No.” Purpled repeated, stronger this time.

Dream took a menacing step forward, trying to intimidate the group of kids. However, Tommy stood firm, rooted and unwavering in his spot between them.

“I don’t think you understand.” The sire cocked his head. “You can’t just say ‘no’.”

“I don’t think you understand, Dream.” Purpled said coldly.

“I am your sire,” The man spat, punctuating every word, “and you will do as I say.”

Purpled felt the threads of their severed connection tingling, reaching out like it hadn’t been cut and left to die.

There was no such thing as a fledgling without a sire.

The strings reached out, trying to tangle themselves together again as Dream attempted to force the ends to connect.

He was trying to reinstate his bond with Purpled—his power over Purpled—through sheer force.

Like Purpled didn’t get a say in the relationship at all.

“You are not my fucking sire.”

.

.

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Chapter Text

Tommy stood in front of the cafe, hesitant. It struck him how this wasn’t the first time he’s been in this situation.

The cafe held so many good memories of his: marveling at delicious desserts, laughing so hard his sides hurt, spending time with the people he loved.

It held bad memories too though: being scared out of his mind while feeling trapped, arguments filled with hurtful words and bad blood, hateful glances directed at him and his pack alike.

Wilbur had apologized before for his words and actions, but this time was different. It just felt heavier than before.

Tommy was scared of all the good memories shattering in his face once he walked through the door.

Wilbur was—as much as he loathed to admit it—a friend. Tommy’s hindbrain latched on to the man’s contagious laughter and terrible humor, his honeyed words and clingy touches.

It was stupid, but somewhere between the lines Tommy’s apprehension of the man’s motives melted away.

The werewolf fiddled with the beanie in his hands. He figured that if this was the last time he visited the cafe he would give it back.

Steeling himself, the boy put the beanie on and walked inside the cafe. It was warm as always, but there was a permanent chill in Tommy’s bones.

His leg was uncasted, but the limb was still stiff from both disuse and overuse. It was fucking weird.

(Apparently, not using your leg at all for a few days and then booking it across the city was not a good idea.

It also probably wasn’t good that he was Purpled’s crutch on the way back, but the fledgling doesn’t need to know that. The kid is anxious enough about being in debt to Tommy.)

Wilbur was at the counter, as always, and he looked up when the door bells chimed. He was surprised for a moment, and then he looked conflicted.

Tommy felt stupid for missing the completely soft Wilbur he was used to.

The boy kept his face impassive as he walked up to the counter and stared at the overhead menu. There were no pleasantries or soft smiles, just silent stares and regards.

If Wilbur noticed whose beanie he was wearing, he didn’t show it. The man portrayed nothing.

Tommy kept his eyes on the menu as he rattled off something about sugar cookie lattes and blueberry muffins. He didn’t want to see Wilbur’s blank stare any more.

The vampire only broke the silence once he had finished making and packing Tommy’s order.

“I didn’t know Purpled lived with you.”

Tommy paused. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. After days of not speaking, that’s what Wilbur decided to lead with?

“Yeah.” The boy said after a beat. “He’s family.”

The vampire made a wounded noise. Tommy ignored it.

When the blond reached out to take his order from Wilbur’s hands, the man grabbed his wrists and pulled Tommy closer.

Before he could freak out, his arms were released and Wilbur made a grab for his face, cradling the werewolf’s cheeks like he was precious.

“I missed you.” Wilbur said softly, eyes swirling with something dangerous. “You’re such a treasure, you know that?”

It was so sudden, the boy didn’t know how to react.

“What?” Tommy choked out, blindly setting down his food to pull at Wilbur’s arms.

(Trapped, trapped, trapped. You’re not getting out of this one. You’re too weak.)

“You’re golden, sundrop, in every sense of the word. You’re so much better than those other mutts.” The vampire insisted, hands unmoving to the claws scratching at them.

Tommy glared at him. “Don’t say that about my family.”

“Oh, but it’s true, and it’s not like they don’t hate me as much as I hate them. I know you’ve seen the way they look at me.”

“They’re just protective. They have good intentions, but werewolves can get overbearing towards their packmates sometimes.”

“Oh, I get it.” He chuckled. “If I had you I would never let you go. You would spend the rest of your days in the nest. I’d bring you the world, sundrop.”

“I’m not something you can keep and hide away, Wilbur.”

The man crooned woefully. “If only you were. You’re too good for this sick, twisted world.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true. You’ll understand one day. I want to hide you away forever.”

Tommy balked at the way the last sentence was whispered like a secret, and his clawing became more incessant. “You– you can’t do that.”

“I could.” Wilbur said simply, like it was just another fact of the world.

(It was. Tommy was in no power to stop him if he ever tried.)

Slowly, the vampire made his way around the counter, never separating from Tommy the whole time. He pulled the boy close to his chest when he spoke again. Tommy couldn’t feel a heartbeat.

“My mom was killed by werewolves.”

The blond paused his squirming, interest piquing at a rare detail about Wilbur’s past.

“This was before I was ever a vampire. They didn’t even have a real motive.” The man muttered bitterly, tracing circles into Tommy’s back.

“They killed her for no reason?” The kid murmured hoarsely, ears twitching under the hat as a pang of sympathy rang through him.

“They called her a freak. Apparently, she was wrapped up in some shady business with them. They didn’t want to pay her the money she was owed.”

“That’s fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Wilbur held Tommy closer to his chest, resting his chin on the boy’s head, “but you’re nothing like them, sundrop. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Tommy’s stomach dropped. “Most werewolves aren’t like that. Tubbo and Ranboo aren’t like that.”

“Yet, the werewolves who beat me half to death in that alleyway were. I would’ve ended up like my mom if you didn’t intervene.”

The boy said nothing because, to an extent, he knew it was true.

Wilbur continued without a hitch. “But you did intervene, because of course you did, you’re perfect; and now you're mine. I’ll never let you get hurt again.”

“I’m not something you can just– just own.” Tommy pushed uselessly at the man, trying his hardest to free himself from the resolute hug.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘owning’.” Wilbur said with a disapproving click of his tongue. “We’d be like brothers, Toms. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Tubbo and Ranboo and Purpled are my brothers already.”

The vampire ignored him. “You’ll learn to accept that you’ll never be able to escape me—to leave me. You’ll learn to love it here.”

Tommy hid his face in Wilbur’s chest, willing his tears to not fall.

“Phil and Techno killed the wolves who hurt my mom, but I never really looked at mutts the same again. Not you though, sundrop, you’re everything.”

“I want to go home.”

“You are home.”

“No, no, no, Wil please–”

The man soothed him, pressing his hand to Tommy’s head. Beneath the beanie, the werewolf’s ears were completely flat.

“You make everything so warm.” Wilbur murmured.

A shuddering sob left Tommy’s body, and the well of tears finally broke loose, staining Wilbur’s shirt. The man startled at that, eyes constricting for a split second before they dilated again.

“What’s wrong, sundrop? Am I hurting you?” The vampire immediately began scanning Tommy for any sort of wound or injury.

Cradling Tommy’s face again, Wilbur finally took notice of the scratches on his own hands and the way Tommy’s heart was jackhammering out of his chest.

Immediately, his own heart plummeted. His sundrop was so scared right now. That simply won’t do.

“You’re okay.” Wilbur shushed again, wiping Tommy’s tears with his thumb. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

Tommy squirmed against the freakishly strong arms caging him in. Of course Wilbur would never truly realize that he’s the problem.

Those were not the words that left Tommy’s mouth. Instead, he said something a lot crueler.

“You’re acting just like Dream.”

Wilbur whipped his head down to meet the boy’s eyes so fast Tommy thought he heard a crack.

His expression was angry, furious even, and for a split second the werewolf was waiting to be popped across the face.

“Don’t say that.” He said with pure scorn lacing his voice. “You don’t know what you're talking about.”

“I know exactly what I’m talking about. He wanted to keep me too.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you. You’d be safe with me.”

“I thought I was safe with him.” Tommy spat. “I was clearly fucking wrong to believe him. Why should I believe you?”

“Because I would never treat you like he did.”

“I don’t fucking know that! You’ve clearly shown me how much you hate my kind, so maybe you’re just like him: a dirty, lying bastard.”

“I wouldn’t.” Wilbur said with so much force Tommy could almost feel the words hit his face.

“We’re going in fucking circles.” Tommy all but shouted. “You’ve done nothing to prove that you’re more trustworthy than him.”

“Well, maybe for one I don’t use fucking blood magic!”

“The fuck is blood magic?”

Wilbur paused. “You don’t know?”

Tommy thought back to the last few times he saw Dream. He thought of that day in the cafe, the smell of death filling the air.

He thought about Ranboo and Tubbo’s jitters, and the terrifying moments of confronting Dream while Purpled laid on the ground.

He remembered the smell of rain and the earthy musk that followed, and the bitter aftertaste of dandelions on his tongue.

“He smelled like death.” Tommy said mournfully, more to himself than the vampire in front of him.

“Blood magic is dangerous and temperamental, especially if done by the unworthy.” Wilbur explained carefully. “One of the side effects is slowly killing its user.”

“But aren’t vampires immortal?”

“He’ll die eventually—short by a vampire’s definition, but long compared to any mortal’s lifespan.”

Tommy thought for a long moment. Dream was dying—which like yippee—but he won't die until after Tommy is six feet under.

The blond needed to find a way to make him pay faster. Fate would take too long.

“What else does blood magic do?”

Wilbur explained that blood magic was one of the most powerful forms of witchcraft. It required a series of blood sacrifices and gave its user increased strength and abilities.

However, the magic was only made for followers of Lady Death who were worthy, and anyone else would have bits of their sanity chipped away until they were nothing but a husk of themselves.

It was grueling, but many people believed it was worth the pain, and others believed that they really were chosen by Lady Death. Wilbur said he wasn’t sure if those people had much sanity left to lose.

The more Tommy heard about this blood magic, the more he realized how unbeatable Dream was. He was no longer a normal vampire that could be killed with holy water or a stake to the heart; he had power now.

The magic wouldn’t stop regular items from hurting the man, but he couldn’t be killed with them. Dream had control over the situation, and Tommy and Purpled were the mindless flies caught in his web.

It made him wonder why Dream just hadn’t gone and taken them already.

(He’s playing with his food. How childish.)

Tommy was helpless.

(Don’t you see the parallels?)

Dream knew so much about him, he could be watching every move Tommy made right now. Tommy would never even know.

He could follow Tommy home tonight and kill him. There would be no witnesses.

(Open your eyes.)

Dream had beaten Purpled within an inch of his life, and Purpled was a lot stronger than Tommy. Vampires typically were, given the fact that they were already dead.

Blood magic would mean Dream was almost as powerful as the ancients.

(Wake up.)

Tommy took a laborious breath in, body seizing as it didn’t receive enough air. Wilbur had stopped talking, finally letting Tommy move back and away from him.

The werewolf fell to the floor, arms wrapped in a protective position while he gasped for air. He heard Wilbur whisper something about ‘not meaning for this to happen’ but no words were registering at the moment.

Gentle fingers brushed his arms gingerly, but Tommy reacted by immediately kicking out. He didn’t see what he made contact with as he sprung up and rushed out the door.

(You didn’t check the alleyways. Nothing good happens in alleyways.)

Tommy kept running.

(You’re still asleep, little one.)

.

.

.

Chapter Text

“What do you know about blood magic?”

Purpled stilled at Tommy’s question, arms outstretched as he was in the middle of reorganizing his room. Tommy kept folding laundry.

“It’s dangerous.” The fledgling finally settled on.

“Dream uses blood magic.” It wasn’t a question.

Purpled didn’t look up from where he was flattening his bedsheet. “Sure.”

Tommy sent the boy a halfhearted glare. He was being difficult on purpose, and Tommy didn’t appreciate it.

“Is he worthy?”

“He certainly thinks he is.”

The werewolf let out an annoyed huff, and Purpled looked at him worriedly. Before the boy could start overthinking about if Tommy was genuinely displeased with him, the werewolf stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry.

Purpled rolled his eyes. “You’re so childish. What’s with all the questions anyway?”

“I had a conversation with Wilbur.” Tommy said, and Purpled made a sympathetic noise. “He brought it up and I remembered how Dream had started smelling like death recently.”

“You can smell death? Does it smell like corpses and shit or something?”

“No, you idiot, that’s a dead body. I’m talking about, like, the presence of death.”

“Are you on drugs? As Tubbo would say: you’re chatting right shit right now.”

“Don’t quote Tubbo to me.” Tommy scowled and rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it.

“Then start making sense.” Purpled shot back.

“It’s– it’s like,” Tommy gestured wildly in the air with his hands, “you know, like death.”

“No, I don’t fucking know what you’re on about.” The vampire threw a shirt at his head, and it blanketed Tommy’s face like a veil.

“A magical smell, innit?” The boy said as he shook the shirt on to the floor.

The fledgling still had no clue what Tommy was referring to, but he let the subject drop. He supposed it was just a werewolf thing that he would never understand.

Tommy giggled at his confusion, but otherwise said nothing. It was hard to explain the complexities of scent to a vampire.

When they finally finished tidying up the room, Purpled flopped down onto his bed, far too exhausted for the little work that’s been done.

Immediately, Tommy flopped down beside him, shifting fully into his wolf form and shimmying into the other’s side.

“Oh my god, you’re too fat to be on here with me.” Purpled complained, being squished now that Tommy’s large form took up over half the bed.

The wolf just huffed, splaying out onto Purpled’s lap, belly up. The vampire didn’t hesitate to sink his hands into the thick fur.

Sue him, Tommy was soft, golden, and warm.

Just as Purpled’s eyes began to droop, a piercing howl shook him awake. Before he could cuss out the werewolf, footsteps could be heard making their way down the hall.

Expectedly, Tubbo and Ranboo burst into the room moments later.

“Aww.” Ranboo crooned, snapping a photo of the two at the same time Tubbo yelled: “You pricks are having cuddle time without me?!”

Purpled hissed at the camera in Ranboo’s hands. He wouldn’t even show up, there was no point in taking that picture.

His thoughts were cut off as Tubbo made a dive for the bed, landing on a disgruntled Tommy and Purpled. The brunet tucked himself into the wolf’s side, arm around Purpled’s midsection.

Ranboo joined them with much more tact. He leaned on the fledgling’s shoulder while laying his legs over his packmates.

Thankfully, these two werewolves couldn’t shift, so all the bed’s real estate wasn’t taken up. Tommy snuffled as he curled himself closer to his brothers.

No one spoke as they all settled down, melting into one another and the soft mattress below them. Purpled now understood the appeal of the den, this was fucking amazing.

“You didn’t have a nest?” Ranboo muttered sleepily from his side. Oops, he must’ve said his thoughts out loud.

“Was never allowed into my sire’s.” The boy responded, making Tommy let out a weak growl.

Tubbo clacked his teeth together in agitation too. Apparently, Dream hatred was mutual in this household—which honestly, valid.

Purpled’s eyelids began to droop, and his mind turned to sludge. Everything was so warm and safe when he was surrounded by his brothers. The world was in his palms.

More accurately, Purpled’s world was lying around him in his bed.

When his eyes flickered open again, he was alone, tucked in with a blanket and a stuffed animal in his arms. He faintly heard slow, sleepy heartbeats coming from other parts of the apartment.

His eyes flickered shut once more. Everything was good.

The moon was taunting Tommy.

Well, it wasn’t really, but Tommy couldn’t stop staring at it. It wasn’t full tonight, but the sky was clear and bright.

Tommy’s brothers were sound asleep—snoring away peacefully in their respective rooms. No one would be there to witness him slip away.

The boy was restless, and he itched to stretch his legs, even for just a moment. He hadn’t been out since he last went to the cafe—which he was still pissed about by the way.

He can’t believe he forgot to grab his treats because Wilbur scared him. Right prick.

He opened his window quietly, and the chill of the night air hit his face. The cold wouldn’t be a problem if he kept moving though, so he elected to forgo a jacket.

Slipping out was easy—familiar. He had done this trek a thousand times, and he loved how much it exhilarated him. There was something so freeing about being alone.

Not that he didn’t love his brothers, he just needed to get away sometimes.

Tommy shifted his legs into paws to keep the rough sidewalk from biting into his toes. He wandered aimlessly, confident in his ability to find his way back no matter where he ended up.

Maybe that’s how he found his way on the familiar path to the cafe. He walked up and down the streets until he was in vampire territory, not daring to go any further at night.

The boy blinked. He didn’t even remember walking here through the thick haze of his own thoughts. He turned around to walk back the other way.

A clicking sound behind him caught his attention, but he didn’t acknowledge it with more than a flick of his ears. It wasn’t abnormal for vampires to be out at this time, and they had no reason to bother him if he stayed on his side of the border.

He ignored it until the smell of autumn hit his nose.

Tilting his head, Tommy turned, and came face to face with Wilbur. The man looked worse for wear; his hair was mused and there were deep circles living beneath his eyes.

“Hi.” The man seemed breathless. “Hi Tommy.”

“Hi Wilbur, sorry for kicking you last time.” Tommy rumbled back, staying away from the man. He was ninety percent sure it was Wilbur that he had kicked and not some chair.

Honestly, the bastard deserved it for being a clingy bitch—which he hadn’t apologized for, by the way. He didn’t apologize for the time before either.

Staring at the blond, Wilbur stayed away too, eyes darting from Tommy’s ears to his face. He looked like he wanted to reach out, and the blond’s hackles rose. His mouth started to look more like a muzzle.

“Hey, hey, none of that. Why don’t we go inside the cafe to warm up? I’ll open shop for you.” Wilbur soothed softly, as if speaking any louder would cause the werewolf to snap. Maybe it would.

Tommy thought about telling him to fuck off, that he wasn’t going to go into the stupid cafe where he wasn’t sure if he could leave, but then he thought of a better idea.

“Do I get my blueberry muffin?” Tommy asked, and Wilbur just chuckled.

“Sure.”

Tommy’s tail wagged as he finally crossed the border. Vampire territory had always seemed so much colder.

The two walked side by side as they made their way to the cafe—only about a block away from where they were. Wilbur did as he said and opened up shop for Tommy, unlocking the doors and turning all the lights and machines on.

The boy paused in the doorway, suddenly unsure.

“I’ll be allowed to leave here, right?”

Wilbur stared at him with downcast eyes, an internal debate sparking to life within the man. Tommy took a step back, and the vampire snapped to attention.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Promise me.”

“What?”

“Promise me that I can leave here tonight.”

“Okay, I promise you will leave here tonight. Unharmed.”

Tommy relaxed, waltzing his way into an empty booth. Well, they were all empty, but this one was his favorite.

He wasn’t sure why he trusted Wilbur’s word, but something in the back of his mind told him that the man was not lying.

Tommy curled up on the plush seats, tucking his legs beneath him and resting his arms and head on the table. Wilbur was walking around behind the counter, presumably preparing Tommy’s food.

The werewolf let his eyes slip shut for a moment, but they snapped open as Wilbur slid into the seat next to him—not across from him, but next to.

Tommy eyed the man warily, scooting over so that he was pressed into the wall. He didn’t like the prospect of being cornered, but that apprehension melted away as Wilbur slid a blueberry muffin towards him.

Greedily, the boy snatched up the muffin and the accompanying drink. A quick sniff let him know that it was tea and not coffee.

“I didn’t want to give you so much caffeine at this hour.” Wilbur explained hastily when Tommy side-eyed him.

The explanation was accepted with a small snuffle. Then, Tommy began absolutely tearing into his still-warm treat.

Wilbur laughed softly, eyes twinkling, and the blond shot him a half-hearted glare. The vampire simply didn’t understand the pure delicacy on the table in front of them.

Well, too bad for him because Tommy’s not sharing.

While the boy ate, he failed to notice the hand inching closer and closer to him. He was too distracted by the muffin he was devouring and the rhythmic thumping of his tail.

Both of which stopped as soon as fingers threaded into his golden locs. He let out an involuntary growl.

The hand froze, but it didn’t remove itself. Tommy glanced up quickly, finding Wilbur staring at him with the same dark look in his eyes as always. His gaze was almost rapacious.

Tommy looked back down, he was supposed to be the wolfish one here, not Wilbur.

The brunet held a devilish grin—not that Tommy saw—and curled a piece of blond hair around his finger. His eyes were dilated, and he was fighting the urge to purr.

His sundrop was just perfect. He was adorable.

Wilbur stayed clear of the boy’s ears, fully aware of the freak out that would occur if he so much as touched them. He also avoided the neck; Tommy would be livid if the man tried to scruff him.

Today was a relaxing day, he didn’t want to deal with a skittish and aggressive werewolf. That would be horrible.

The vampire didn’t try with any soothing words this time. He wasn’t sure if Tommy would believe him, or even listen at all, so he’d have to prove his trust through his actions.

The blond resumed eating at a much slower pace, watching Wilbur through the corner of his eye. The man simply kept twirling the piece of hair in his hand.

Tommy’s hair was long enough to be braided, and no doubt Techno would want to braid real gold into the shiny locs.

Wilbur scooched closer in the booth, earning a rather threatening display from Tommy, who bared his canines and claws.

“You said I would be allowed to leave.” Tommy spoke suddenly, fearful tension lacing his voice. “You promised.”

“I did.” Wilbur silently cursed himself for making his Tommy think that his word couldn’t be trusted. “I didn’t lie.”

“Oh.” The boy’s voice was small. Wilbur didn’t like it.

He liked the Tommy that was loud and abrasive, yet full of so much love. He liked the Tommy that refused to lay down and take the bigotry thrown around in the world.

“I, uh,” The words felt like lead on Wilbur’s tongue, “feel bad for how I’ve treated you, sundrop. I know you don’t like to be coddled, but I still did it. I just want to keep you safe, you know? You’re too pure for this fucked up society.”

Tommy said nothing, so the brunet kept on with his ramble.

“And– uh, as for last time, I was really deep in my instincts then. I hadn’t seen you for a while, and then you came in wearing my beanie, and I just– yeah. I hope to make it up to you someday, if you’ll let me.”

It was a non-apology and Wilbur knew it; it was a coward’s cop out, but the guilt was eating him up whole, and the shame was too ugly to stare in the face.

He had apologized to Tommy before—he was capable of it—but this time the words caught in his throat, too large to dislodge.

He didn’t—couldn’t—apologize this time, but his words still held merit. They told Tommy that Wilbur would try to be better, that he felt remorse and wanted to right his wrongs.

It wasn’t an apology by a long shot, but it was an effort. In a way, Tommy appreciated it, but he wasn’t ready to forgive Wilbur yet—he’ll believe the effort when he sees it.

The blond sipped at his tea thoughtfully. Phil had clearly made this blend, and Tommy would be damn sure to appreciate the man’s hard work.

The silence stretched, but Tommy didn’t find it unbearable. It was simply quiet, as the night usually was.

“You know, the first vampire I’d ever met was a right prick.” The werewolf said out of the blue.

Wilbur didn’t know where the boy was going with that train of thought, so he just let out a hum to show that he was listening.

“I met him while I was a ratty street kid. He used to swing by my den multiple times a week, taking whatever objects or food I had collected.”

The brunet felt a hot flash of anger go through him. He was going to find and kill that bastard who thought it was okay to pick on a literal child and steal their means of staying alive.

“I was maybe six, and he looked like he was in his mid-teens. I don’t blame him though, the streets were rough, and we were all trying to scrape by.”

Wilbur cut in then, scowling.

“His sire should have taken care of him, and vampires don’t even need food to survive like you do. We only need blood—everything else is a luxury.”

“I don’t think he knew that, or had a sire at all actually. He reminds me of Purpled a lot: scared and alone.”

Wilbur pursed his lips at that, looking mildly unhappy and confused. He didn’t like how Tommy was talking, like taking care of the fledgling as a pup himself was simply one of his responsibilities.

“You weren’t angry with him for stealing?”

Tommy chuckled. “Oh, at the time? I was furious. I understand it now, but back then I didn’t know shit about vampires.”

The brunet looked even more confused. He couldn’t fathom how that anger didn’t turn into hatred. Wilbur’s certainly did.

Tommy seemed to understand what he was thinking, shaking his head in amusement. He jerked slightly when he felt a slight tug on his scalp, just remembering that Wilbur was still holding his hair.

Wilbur let his hand fall, instead moving closer to Tommy in the booth until their shoulders brushed. The blond scrunched up his nose at the action, but remained silent.

“I was so angry, but everyone else was too. I saw the way werewolves snarled at vampires, and the vampires hissed right back. There was so much animosity between our species.”

“Wow,” Wilbur drawled slowly, breaking the tension lining Tommy’s form, “that was such a big word for you. Animosity. Did you look that one up?”

The werewolf bumped their shoulders together, snapping his jaw in faux agitation.

“Shut up, you prick. Do you want to hear the rest of my story or not?”

“I do, I do, go on now.” The man laughed teasingly.

As a kid, Tommy didn’t understand it at all. He began to get angry at the anger. He was sick of the undeserved loathing surrounding him.

“I don’t want to tell you anymore.” Tommy grumbled, turning away.

In the slums, there were so many other kids like him, vampires and werewolves alike. Both fledgling and pups were beaten and jeered at.

“No,” Wilbur whined petulantly, drawing out the vowel and laying his head on Tommy’s shoulder, “tell me, please.”

It was hard to tell where their true differences lied. The world worked in neither species’ favor, and everyone was pointing fingers at the wrong thing, like each other was to blame.

“No!” Tommy stuck out his tongue at Wilbur. The man jokingly tried to grab it before the blond sucked it back in his mouth, causing them both to laugh.

Tommy was so angry. He wanted things to change. In the end, what better motivator was there than spite?

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Chapter Text

“Wait, you never told me how your story ended—how you stopped being so angry.”

“Oh, I didn’t. I’m still angry, but being angry doesn’t mean I have to be hateful; and it’s so much easier to love.”

“Maybe for you. You’re very lovable, Toms.”

“Tubbo says I’m all heart, but I think I’m like fifty percent dick ‘cuz it’s massive.”

“Okay, shut the fuck up now.”

Wilbur kept his promise that night.

The next day, Tommy found himself at the local mall, surrounded by bustling shops and busy people. He wandered aimlessly, walking into any store that caught his eye.

He was browsing through a music shop when he found a box of miscellaneous records. The store clerk let him listen to a few on a record player, and the boy found himself purchasing one.

The tune on it was smooth jazz, some parts containing a deep voice scat singing along. It made Tommy’s head hum pleasantly, and he couldn’t bear to leave without it.

(He also remembered how pleasant Wilbur’s voice was—how when he spoke softly it would cause a hum in Tommy’s head too.

Wilbur had mentioned offhandedly that he chose all the music for the cafe, which ranged from something soft and sweet to something upbeat and groovy. All of the songs were bangers.

Also, if the werewolf recalled correctly, Wilbur’s symbol on the cafe’s sign out front was a guitar. Tommy wondered if he played. He probably did, but the boy would have to ask sometime.)

The next store he went into was the toy store. Say what you want about their maturity, but both Tommy and the rest of his pack loved stuffed animals and cutesy stuff—which the store was absolutely loaded with.

The werewolf browsed the plushie aisle, looking for the perfect ones. Tubbo and Ranboo had several stuffed animals already, but could always use more, and Purpled was building a collection, so he had to pick carefully.

His eyes landed on one of a tuxedo cat. The animal had buttons for eyes, an ‘X’ mouth, and comically long legs that weighed more at bottom and flopped around.

He put it in his basket.

Tommy decided to leave the plushie aisle and look at what else the store had to offer. He found himself staring at various toys for kids.

He considered getting Tubbo a children’s book to “help him get over his dyslexia,” but he didn’t feel like getting beat up today. Maybe one day Tubbo will learn to accept and overcome his skill issue.

The rest of the aisle was filled with shitty made plastic toys and cheaply made toddler entertainers. Tommy remembered the way he used to stare wistfully at these things through the windows of shops—like they were the most precious things in the world.

The boy shakes his head at the memory, and a part of him wails as he leaves the section. Maybe he’ll come back to buy the Hot Wheels, only because Hot Wheels are cool for any age though. No other reason.

(“What color would you get if you could buy one?” Toby, no Tubbo said to him as they stared through the window of the shop, dirty fingers leaving marks on the clean glass.

Tommy scoffed, high-pitched and odd sounding coming from a kid who was hip height. “I could never buy one. Where would I get the money?”

“I dunno.” Tubbo shrugged. “But if you just found it one day on the floor, what color would you get?”

“That’s easy: red.”

“I think I would get the green one.”

“Green is a stupid color.”

“Red is stupider!”

Before Tommy could test all the things he’s been called by angry adults all his life on Tubbo, a short and fuming man came bursting out of the toy shop.

“Oi! You fucking dogs better get your disgusting paws off my window!”

Tubbo tried to tell him that he had human hands and not paws right now, simultaneously trying to wipe the window with the hem of his shirt. Considering he slept in a dumpster, he only succeeded in smudging more dirt on the glass.

The man, a vampire according to his red eyes, took a step forward. That was all the incentive Tommy needed to grab his friend’s hand and run for the hills.

When they got back to the dumpster they called home, both boys were out of breath and Tubbo was rubbing his now-sore wrist.

“Sorry.” Tommy grumbled, rubbing his cheek against the other boy, scenting him.

“It’s okay.” Tubbo murmured back. “That man was mean anyway.”

The blond just held him tighter, dragging them into a rather pathetic looking den. They fell asleep curled up like that, snuggled together for warmth.

Tommy’s pack was small, but his heart was full. He loved Tubbo with all of it.

“When I get bigger I’ll get you that green car.” He whispered right before he fell asleep, lulled by the soft snores of his brother. “I promise.”

Tommy bought it for Tubbo when he got his first job. They both cried.)

The final aisle was a decorations one, full of pictures and cute lamps. He ran his hands over some of the canvasses, feeling the raised paint on them.

He lingered on one with cartoonish flowers, large pink things with flat petals. It reminded Tommy of video game flowers, the little pixelated ones that you could collect.

He picked it up, and looked over it one last time before putting it in the basket. Then, his eyes landed on the beginner paint set next to it, the bright colors next to a tiny brown brush staring right back at him.

He picked that one up too. It just felt right.

Tommy wondered if they should repaint the living room now. Him, Tubbo, and Ranboo had painted it together, but now Purpled was with them.

He deserved to have a piece of him there too, because he was welcomed and wanted there. Tommy’s eyes scanned the paint samples in front of him.

He wasn’t sure what all of them would like, so he was looking at the neutral colors: soft creams and beiges, baby blues and pinks.

The boy was reaching for a sample of gray in the back when his hands touched something plastic. It crinkled as he pulled it out, dusty from neglect.

It was a pack of glow in the dark stars and planets, for sticking on a child’s ceiling. They were a slight greenish-white color, and Tommy added it to his basket.

The basket was a good weight when he checked out, and Tommy left with a smile.

When Tommy entered the apartment, something was off. There was a smell of anxiety in the air. He immediately dropped his bags and checked on his packmates.

Tubbo and Ranboo weren’t home yet, as they went out for errands. That left only Purpled.

The werewolf knocked frantically on the kid’s door, fearing something bad had happened. Maybe Dream was threatening him again. Maybe he had broken in.

Tommy’s thoughts halted as Purpled swung the door open, perfectly fine. There wasn’t a single cut or bruise on his face—not a hair out of place.

Yet, anxiety still rolled off of him in waves. Tommy sniffed at his neck, growling lightly. Purpled seemed amused by his fussing.

“What’s got you all worked up?” The fledgling said with a quirk to his mouth, but it seemed sloppy.

“I could be asking you the same thing.” Tommy grumbled, going on his tiptoes to inspect Purpled’s head and hair. “You smell stressed.”

The vampire’s eyes widened at that. “You can smell stress?”

Tommy barked out a laugh. “Yeah, we can. We can smell a lot of things.”

“What the fuck?! What does it even smell like?”

“I dunno.” Tommy scrunched up his face. “It sort of sours the scent you already have; so, that, I guess.”

Purpled looked bewildered, and the werewolf just laughed. He looked at the fledgling expectantly after a while.

“What?”

“You still haven’t told me why you smell like that, dickhead.”

“Oh, it’s uh– nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Purpled looked away, back towards his room.

Tommy narrowed his eyes and huffed out a breath through his nose. “Are you sure? ‘cuz if it’s Dream again–”

“No, no!” The vampire cut in quickly. “It’s not Dream, I swear.”

The werewolf stared at him suspiciously, watching the way he fidgeted and used his body to block the entire doorway. He was definitely hiding something.

The boy let the conversation drop though, much to Purpled’s relief. However, he refused to let the other have the last word in.

“Tell your secret lover I said hi!”

Purpled sputtered indignantly as Tommy turned to stalk back into the apartment, heading for his bags to put them away before anyone else got home. He didn’t want to ruin tonight’s surprise.

Speaking of, he needed a cake. It wasn’t a celebration without cake, and he knew exactly where he needed to go.

He wondered how the cafe got so intertwined with his life.

When he entered the cafe, however, he was surprised. Wilbur wasn’t at the counter, but rather, a very displeased looking Techno.

The man’s glare softened when he laid eyes on Tommy though. The vampire let out a low rumble, straightening up at the counter.

“Hi, pup.” Techno murmured. “What can I get for you?”

The werewolf was eternally grateful that Techno didn’t bring up the Purpled-living-with-him thing. No doubt that if Wilbur knew, he knew. Tommy just didn’t want to start another argument.

The blond looked at their cake display. Most of them were chocolate, which ruled out a lot of options, but there were a few vanilla ones that had fruit on top.

“Are these all fruit cakes?” He asked, hoping for maybe a strawberry or mango shortcake. Ranboo wasn’t fond of certain fruits.

“Ah, yeah. I think those ones are blueberry cakes, but we might have a few raspberry cakes in the back if you want me to check.”

“Don’t bother.” Tommy frowned; Ranboo didn’t like blueberries or raspberries. “Do you have any other flavors?”

Techno looked at the screen by the register. “Those are our only kinds of fruit cakes. I think the rest of our stock is chocolate. Sorry, pup. Do you need it today?”

“Yeah, I’m celebrating something later tonight.”

Techno raised his eyebrow at the vague words, but didn’t push.

(Wilbur would have pushed.)

“We have more cupcake flavors if you’re interested.”

The werewolf thanked him and looked at the options. There were the usual flavors, like red velvet and funfetti, but one of them caught his eye. It was pumpkin spice.

“You have pumpkin spice cupcakes?” Tommy thumped his foot up and down. “Are they good?”

Techno laughed at his antics, the image of an excited puppy going through his mind. “Yeah, they’re one of my favorites, kid. You’ve never had one?”

“No, I haven’t.” The werewolf replied hastily, eyeing the cupcakes as he tried to decide if his packmates would like them.

“Well, that’s an injustice, mate.” A new voice chimed in suddenly.

Tommy’s head snapped up to the other man, and a toothy grin appeared on his face. “Phil!”

“Hiya, mate. We’ve missed you.” Phil’s eyes crinkled at the corners. Crow feet for the crowfather.

The older vampire walked around the counter so Tommy could hug him—or, more accurately, jump on him. The boy rubbed his head onto Phil’s, making Techno laugh as the hair started to ruffle up and stand on end.

Tommy responded by jumping at him next, draping himself over the counter and shocking Techno with static. The vampire grumbled something intelligible, but held the boy’s face as he was hugged.

Phil ended up breaking the moment as he got Tommy a pumpkin spice cupcake, insisting he try it before bringing it home to his pack. The werewolf readily agreed.

He spoke with Phil and Techno as he ate, catching them up on whatever funny stories that occurred while they hadn't seen him.

“–and then I called him a tory, the blood prick–” Tommy’s rambles were cut off as Techno reached over and put something on his head.

The boy reached up to grab it instinctively, growling when it caught and pulled on his hair. Phil laughed at his suffering like a traitor, before gently untangling the object.

It was a hair clip, small and dainty yet full of intricate details. It was shaped like a star, and covered in engravings in a language he didn’t understand.

“This is gorgeous.” Tommy fawned, fingers tracing the delicate lines.

Techno puffed out his chest a little, and Phil sent him a smug glance. The big bad Techno was preening over the praise and validation of a child.

“I made it myself.” In the end, the vampire couldn’t keep the ego out of his voice.

The werewolf looked up at him with wide, wondrous eyes. His voice was practically dripping with awe.

“Really?”

“Yeah, pup, just for you.”

Tommy made a noise that was entirely nonhuman—somewhere between a screech and a chirp—and threw himself at Techno again.

The man stiffened up, not being the cuddliest person ever, but took the opportunity to carefully brush the blond’s hair back with his fingers and put the clip in place, mindful of the fluffy ears.

“Softno.”

“Shut up, dadza.”

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Chapter Text

Tommy left the cafe with four pumpkin cupcakes wrapped up in a box with a pink bow. It was very coquette in his expert opinion.

When he got home, he had about an hour to kill before Tubbo and Ranboo returned. Purpled left a note on the counter saying he’d be back later.

When? Who knows.

However, this gave him the perfect amount of time to prepare the gifts.

Shoving the cupcakes in the fridge and putting his new hair clip somewhere safe, Tommy went to grab the flower painting and the painting set from his room. He flicked his ears excitedly as he sat on the floor with them.

He got a mug of water and immediately got to work. The yellow of the cheap paint set went on sheer so he had to apply a few coats to get the colors to stick.

It didn’t help that he kept smudging the design with his arm as he moved around the picture trying to draw circles. He was beginning to get frustrated and decided to take a break from it.

He left the half-finished canvas to dry by the window, fishing out the cat plush and stars from his shopping bags.

Tommy dug up the old tie that he used to wear to work everyday. It was the only one he had at the time because he couldn’t afford any more.

It was an ugly thing he found on the street: orange with bright red polka dots all over it. The color was faded from being in the wash too many times and the edges were fraying.

Tommy tied it around the cat’s neck. He did a standard workman’s tie, even as the ends were long enough to wrap around the plush’s body multiple times.

The boy just let it rest on the body of the cat, like a person who just got off the clock and threw their tie over their shoulder in exasperation.

The cat looked very distinguished, and Tommy smiled at his handiwork. His packmate would absolutely love it.

The stars were next, and Tommy was unsure about what he could add on to it to make it more personal. He settled on just making little doodles on the back and cardstock.

He drew little things that reminded him of each person: eyes for Ranboo, music notes for Tubbo, and knives for Purpled. He finished off this gift with a crude little drawing of all four of them.

Tommy quickly left the bag on the countertop for the marker to dry. He went back to the painting after, which was much easier now that the first layer was dry.

The werewolf’s arms were shaky as he painted the little details and curved lines. He squinted down at the silly flowers in disdain. His pack was so lucky that a big man like him would suffer for them.

When he finished, he held the painting up with a satisfied bark. Then, he rushed to get everything back into his room before his roommates got home.

As soon as the painting was propped up on an empty wall by his bed to completely set, Tommy could hear a key turn in the lock.

Tommy saw a very tired Tubbo walk through the door, and he immediately ran up to him in greeting.

“Tubso!” He cheered. “Your back!”

“Bossman!” Tubbo said back with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “I am in fact back. At the same time I come home every day.”

Tommy wrapped his arms around Tubbo’s shoulders, placing his head on the brunet’s and flattening his ears.

“Clingy.” Tubbo muttered, but made no moves to escape from Tommy’s hold.

The blond just blew a raspberry, which Tubbo couldn’t even see considering Tommy’s head was buried in his hair. He did see the middle figure Tommy held out though.

When the boys detangled themselves, Tubbo went to take a shower while Tommy started on dinner, which was lasagna since Tommy can’t be trusted with the stove.

Ranboo got home just as it went in the oven, looking much more energetic than his brunet counterpart.

“What’s for dinner?” He asks while putting down his bag. “And why does it smell like that?”

“Lasagna, and it smells like…lasagna.” Tommy replied with a quirked brow.

Ranboo scrunched up his nose. “No, it smells funny in here, like chemicals or something. You didn’t leave the stove on, did you?”

“I’m not fucking stupid, Ranboob.” Tommy said as he checked the stove anyways. All off.

It was then Tommy remembered his painting fiasco. He had probably gone nose-blind to the smell after being around it so long, but Ranboo hadn’t.

Why Tubbo didn’t notice it was a mystery to him. He was probably just too tired.

Ranboo thankfully seemed to shrug it off once Tommy told him to go change. He didn’t want to reveal the surprise too early.

Tubbo emerged from the shower half-asleep already. His hair looked like a wet mop that was sticking to his face and his ears looked thin and floppy.

You better believe Tommy broke down in laughter at the sight of him.

“You look like a wet rat!” He said in-between giggles.

Tubbo flushed pink. “Why you little– who the fuck are you calling a wet rat?!”

“You! You’ve lost all your fluff!”

“That’s it!”

Tommy let out a very manly screech as Tubbo lunged for him. They rolled around on the floor for a few minutes until Tubbo had him pinned.

The brunet decided to reach up to the counter and grab a cup of water. Tommy narrowly avoided death as he withheld a comment on how impressive it was that Tubbo could reach the counter from the floor.

He did not avoid the way Tubbo unceremoniously dumped the whole cup of water on his head though.

Tommy screamed again as he became the second wet rat of the household.

“You bitch!”

“You asked for this, arsehole!”

“What the fuck is happening here?” Purpled said with amusement as he seemingly appeared out of thin air.

Neither of the werewolves heard him enter the apartment, and they both jumped when he spoke. Tubbo looked at the vampire sheepishly, while Tommy grinned like a maniac.

“Tubbo looks like a wet rat!” Tommy said with way too much joy.

The brunet whipped back around to face him. “You look like one too!”

“At least I’m handsome.”

“You are not fucking handsome.”

“All the ladies love me, it’s honestly a curse.”

“Shut up, Tom.”

“I have to fend them off, so that I can stay with my one true love: Queen Lizzy.”

“You are not in love with the queen!”

Tommy sighed dramatically. “No one loves me in this household.”

Tubbo banged his forehead into Tommy’s chest, going total ragdoll. The blond absentmindedly ran a hand through the boy’s wet fur.

“What’s going on?” A wild Ranboo dressed in flannel dog pajamas emerged from his room.

“That’s what I was asking.” Purpled bemoaned with no real annoyance and a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Anyway, I have good news.”

Everyone perked up at that, giving Purpled their full attention. They really did look like puppies.

“I got a job!” Purpled blurted out quickly. “The pay isn’t great, but the benefits are pretty good, and I wanted to contribute here because I felt bad–”

He was shut up by three pairs of arms coming around him and three bodies crashing into his own. Soon he was on the floor—along with everyone else—like Tubbo and Tommy were moments before.

“Congratulations!” They all screamed out at once, before trying to speak over one another.

“Holy shit we’re so proud of you–”

“That’s really cool man–”

“Don’t think you’re ever obligated to contribute though–”

Purpled giggled, hugging the three werewolves back. He then began to tell them about the job he got.

It was at a convenience store near the edges of the territories, owned by a man named Punz. It was a little sketchy, in all honesty, but Punz was nice enough and the store had some gnarly safety precautions Purpled loved.

He would never have to fear a werewolf or vampire at that job. Punz said he made sure of it.

“We need to celebrate!” Tubbo said suddenly, quickly getting up. “Do we have any ice cream?”

“I think we ate it all the last time we had a movie night.” Ranboo hummed in disappointment.

Tubbo made a frustrated bark and kicked the edge of the dining room table. He instantly winced and clutched his foot like an idiot.

Tommy laughed at him—a common theme in this household. “I brought home cupcakes. We can eat those.”

“Why’d you buy cupcakes?” Purpled asked as Tubbo got the box out of the fridge.

“They were for a surprise. You’ll see.”

Purpled opened his mouth to question Tommy’s smug face and vague words, but Tubbo spoke first.

“What flavor are these? They smell good.” The brunet said while his tail wagged.

“Pumpkin!”

Tubbo howled and Ranboo joined in, both of them hovering over the box now. Purpled watched them with a sad smile. That won’t do.

“Come on.” Tommy pushed them all towards the table, causing Tubbo to screech in faux-fear. “They’re really good. I’ll give you the surprise after.”

The roommates sat at the table eating the cupcakes like savages. For all that the others hated the cafe—and were hated in turn—no one could deny that their pastries were the best in town.

Ranboo even started licking the wrapper when he was finished, which was a little gross, but Tubbo copied him anyway.

Purpled was the slowest eater, and so Tommy spent a few minutes jokingly trying to snap bites when he wasn’t looking.

Eventually, they all finished and turned to him. Tommy gave them a nervous smile as they waited to see what he had in store for them.

The boy awkwardly stood up and jogged to his room, gathering all three gifts. He hid them as discreetly as he could on his person before going out again.

“I come bearing gifts.” Tommy loudly announced, causing Tubbo and Ranboo’s eyes to widen.

They both got up and disappeared into their own respective rooms, clearly getting the memo. Yeah, Tommy was always a giver, but they knew him well enough to realize that this was the real deal.

It turns out they were planning for this moment too, and they came prepared.

You see, initiation into a pack was different from regular gift giving. Gift giving was the main aspect of it, but there was more than just buying someone something that reminded you of them or that you thought they would like.

There would be so many more accidental bonds if it was just that.

There has to be an oath of complete trust, whether you mean it wholeheartedly or not decides if your bond will last.

There’s also a little bit of ritual involved, of which Tommy had neglected to tell Wilbur. Mostly because it involved hair and seemed a little silly.

Tubbo and Ranboo returned to the table acting extremely suspiciously. They were totally hiding something, and Purpled began to look anxious.

“First, here’s Ranboob’s.” Tommy started off to break the tension.

He handed the boy the cat plush with the stupid tie, and his eyes immediately dilated in adoration. Tubbo looked shocked as well, whipping his head back and forth between Tommy and the plush.

“Is that–”

“My first ever tie? Yeah, it is.”

Ranboo looked flabbergasted, squishing the cat lovingly. His mouth opened and closed sporadically, but no words came out.

Tubbo spoke for him. “I thought it was special to you.”

“It is, but it can be special to us now; and it reminded me a lot of Ranboo.” Tommy grinned. “Ugly!”

“Hey!” Ranboo’s mouth seemed to work when he heard that, but he barely looked peeved.

Purpled laughed, looking a little out of the loop. They’ll catch him up on old stories one day. They’ll have a story time.

“Thank you, Tommy.” Ranboo said easily, as if he hadn’t been insulted moments before.

It was so easy for him to be soft, and Tommy mumbled a ‘you’re welcome’ back. He hated being doted on and spoken to like he was precious.

(Oh, what a little liar.)

Tubbo was next, and Tommy hid his face behind the canvas as he presented the painting. The blond had painted pixelated bees in the sky to match the flowers.

They were a little fat and wonky, but from the look in Tubbo’s eyes, you’d think they were painted by god herself. Tommy buried his face into his hands as the brunet rambled off praise to him.

Purpled teased him by calling him a tomato, and Ranbitch stopped him from shoving the boy off his seat.

Everyone was practically buzzing by the time they were ready to give Purpled his gifts. The fledgling looked excited, if not a bit scared.

“The best for last.” Ranboo commented idly, hands behind his back.

Tommy took a step forward first, presenting the stars. Purpled took them with wide eyes, and Tommy fidgeted nervously with his now-empty hands.

“I thought we could put them up together, and they fit your whole aesthetic, you know?”

Tommy was cut off when Purpled started wailing. Fat tears ran down his face as the three werewolves stared at him uncomfortably.

“Purpled? What’s– what’s wrong?” Tommy stammered.

“How am I supposed to get them out of the packaging without ruining your pretty drawings?!” Purpled cried, only half faking it.

They all reassured Purpled that the packaging was salvageable. They told him that they could slit the bottom of the plastic with a knife and get the stars out that way. The boy seemed to calm down after that.

Tubbo’s gift was next: a leather-bound journal covered in gorgeous engravings. It was clearly custom, with Purpled’s name etched into the spine and surrounded by swirls.

Half the pages were blank, and the other half were lined, so Purpled could both draw and journal in it. He almost started crying again, sniffling softly.

Finally, there was Ranboo’s gift. He gave Purpled a hand knitted scarf that was thick and fluffy. It was striped with several different colors and practically swaddled the boy.

He didn’t take it off all evening.

“Thank you.” Purpled whispered between hiccups.

Tommy smiled. “Anything for a brother.”

“I’m not even a part of your pack though. I’m just some vampire you let into your home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, man. You’re one of us in every way that counts. These gifts were actually the first step into initiating a pack-bond. Only if you, uh, want to though, of course.”

Purpled sprang up at those words, hugging Tommy with incredible strength. That probably meant yes, right?

They walked Purpled through the steps. First was gift giving, then was the oath. The fledgling had no problem speaking from the heart after the emotional day he just had.

The tears really added to the authenticity of it all.

The oath was the true beginning of the bond, when the threads between them began to form. By speaking from the heart, they connected theirs, in both a symbolic and literal way.

The gifts were just a prerequisite that showed how much they loved and appreciated each other.

The last step of the bonding was the strangest. They had to braid tassels into each other’s hair.

All non-human creatures were magical to some degree, some more than others. Werewolves didn’t have the strongest penchant for magic, but it was still present in their shifting.

Hair contained remnants of this magic, which could be easily drawn out. The braiding would allow their magics to mix and intertwine, and the tassels would show their kinship—a marking for the whole world to know of their bond.

The braids would come out after a week, but many werewolves kept their tassels long afterwards. Tommy still had his from Tubbo and Ranboo’s initiation.

Tommy ran his fingers over his new braid, smiling at the phantom feeling of Purpled weaving the locs together. He saw the others doing the same, including the fledgling himself, who had three plaits.

Grinning, Tommy stared at his brothers—his pack—with pure happiness. They were complete, more so than they were before.

It was so easy to forget about all his problems and worries while he lived in the moment.

Right after the braiding, Purpled ran to his own room to grab something. The very something that had him so anxious earlier.

Turns out, he had gifts of his own.

The stuffed chicken Tommy had affectionately named Hetta sat on his bed and there was a lavender hoodie thrown over the back of his desk chair.

No, Tommy had not cried. That was for pussies, like Purpled.

(He sobbed inconsolably for ten minutes.)

“Oh my god, do you realize what we can do now?” Tubbo exclaimed excitedly out of nowhere.

“Huh?” Ranboo said, turning away from the mirror where he was staring at himself.

Tubbo didn’t reply, electing to just grab each of them and pull them into the den. Purpled was one of their packmates now, and their instincts would allow him in the mess of blankets.

Purpled froze as soon as he hit the couch, unsure of this sudden change. He was never allowed in the den before, nor had Dream ever allowed him in the nest.

Maybe the difference was that the werewolves wanted him there, and they were always apologetic when he couldn’t join them.

Dream never gave a shit about him. He was just another face in the coven, a disposable tool.

That much was proven when he sent the boy after Tommy, like he could ever succeed unharmed.

Purpled buried his hands in soft fur, so similar but different from the last time. This time he could practically feel their heartbeats in tune with his own.

They lulled him to sleep, synchronized and slow.

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Chapter Text

Tommy was getting ready for work with his new braid in his hair.

He looked a little dorky, but the braid was small and cute. He pinned it to the side of his head using the hair clip Techno gave him.

Everyone in the household was up that morning for work, and the whole apartment was buzzing. A warm smell filled the air as someone started to fry an egg.

Tommy adjusted the tie on his stuffy suit—ugh, he hated meeting days where he actually had to look professional. At least he would be able to stop by the cafe to grab a coffee.

When he exited his room, a piece of toast was shoved into his hands by Purpled, who was already halfway out the door by the time the werewolf looked up.

Everyone shouted something encouraging as the boy bolted down the hall. They hoped he would have a nice first day at the new job.

Tommy munched on his toast as he left his other packmates, leaving much more leisurely than their fledgling. He contemplated what he should get to eat the whole commute.

Arriving at the cafe, he was pleasantly surprised to see both Wilbur and Techno at the counter. It had been a while since he’d seen those two together.

“What’s up, bitches!” Tommy yelled as he swung the door open. “It’s your favorite customer!”

“You are not my favorite, mutt.” Wilbur mumbled sleepily, causing Tommy to frown. He thought Wilbur had stopped being a little bastard who called him those names.

“I’m the best tipper. Don’t even lie.” Tommy said with a slight snark, though it went undetected.

Techno chuckled. “You’re right about that one, pup. What can we get for you today?”

Tommy stared at the menu for a few moments. All that time on the way here and he still hadn’t decided.

Techno’s eyes caught on the glittering hairpiece among the golden fur. He smiled.

“You’re wearing it.” Techno spoke fondly, gently tilting Tommy’s head to see the clip better. Tommy allowed him.

“Of course, big man. It’s so pretty. How could I not?” Tommy grinned right back.

“Wear what?” Wilbur sat up and rubbed his eyes.

He squinted at Tommy, reaching out to move his head as well. The boy jerked back, and Wilbur froze mid-air.

Tommy flashed his teeth in warning and Wilbur reluctantly dropped his arm. The brunet scowled deeply, but it was directed at Techno.

The pink-haired vampire had started quietly purring, hand still on the side of Tommy’s head. He thumbed the shiny hair clip in the boy’s hair, watching it glisten.

Wilbur’s glower transformed into an expression of shock as Tommy gave a quiet rumble back. His eyes darkened as he stared at the two.

The look Wilbur was giving them made Tommy uneasy, and he removed his face from Techno’s hand, hackles raised.

He was clinical as he placed his order. “A vanilla coffee and a croissant, please.”

Techno swiftly nodded, getting to work preparing the order. Wilbur rested his head back on the counter, eyeing Tommy with a fierce jealousy.

“Why never me?” Wilbur whispered so quietly Tommy almost didn’t hear him.

He was clearly trying to make it so Techno didn’t hear the admission of envy. Vampire ears may be impeccable, but they had to be consciously listening for quiet noises if they wanted to hear them.

Werewolf ears were always on attention, however, and Techno was too distracted by the noise of the coffee grinder to be listening.

Tommy’s ears twitched downwards as he thumped his tail against the side of the counter. He didn’t know how to answer Wilbur—didn’t know if he wanted to.

Wilbur…scared Tommy, in a way. He was powerful, no doubt they all were, but he was known to lord that power over the werewolf.

Did Tommy really want to give trust to someone who held so much hatred that he had become physically violent? Reason and tragic backstory or not, did he really want to take that risk with Wilbur?

The vampire sighed when Tommy didn’t answer right away, deflating into his arms. He looked defeated—utterly hopeless in the way that seems to break a man.

This was not the first time Tommy felt bad for setting his own boundaries. He really wanted to trust Wilbur, but he wasn’t sure if he could.

Wilbur deserved to feel guilt, as it was his own actions that led to this fear, but Tommy’s heart was bigger than his brain.

Gingerly, he reached out and wrapped one of Wilbur’s curls around his finger, in the same way the man had done to him before.

Wilbur flickered his eyes up, but he simply stayed put and let Tommy do as he pleased. For a man who looked like he got shocked by electricity every morning, Wilbur’s hair was surprisingly soft.

Tommy withdrew his hand the moment his hackles had begun to stand on end. However, it wasn’t from Techno finishing his order and seeing the embarrassing moment, nor was it from Wilbur doing something that pushed Tommy’s buttons.

It was from the fragrant smell of pine needles and mildew.

A flash of green appeared in his peripheral vision and the world seemed to stop revolving. Dream stood in the doorway to the cafe, hands casually in his pockets and posture relaxed.

“What, Tommy?” Dream mocked when the boy did nothing but stare. “Not so confident without your bitches at your tail?”

Tommy growled, already mid-shift into a more threatening form. Wilbur stood up straight and he leaned forward towards the pair. Techno stopped preparing the drink in his hand.

Dream’s smile grew. “I knew you’d be in here today. I’ve been keeping my eye on you.”

“You’ve been fucking stalking me!” Tommy barked, his paranoia becoming a very real reality.

“Call it what you want, but I’ve been dying to see you again, Toms.”

“Don’t call him that.” Wilbur spat, practically growling himself.

Techno had already made his way around the counter at this point, positively seething. Dream stared at them like nothing more than entertainment.

The man’s eyes flashed a vibrant red, and a small dagger appeared in his hand. He danced it around his fingers, wiggling it on one of the tips.

“Blood magic.” Techno hissed, and suddenly Tommy became aware of just how powerless he was here.

He was the weakest of the four by far, and was the only non-vampire—therefore making him the only one without magic at his disposal. All he had were his claws and teeth.

Tommy felt very, very alone without his brothers.

However, he couldn’t let that show on his face, so he stared at Dream head on and continued to growl. The vampire threw the dagger in his hands straight into one of the cafe’s cameras. No one so much as flinched.

“C’mon, Tommy. Didn’t you miss me too?” Dream held out his arms in a faux-invitation for a hug.

Tommy’s lip curled. “No, I really didn’t. Maybe it’s because the last few times we met were less than pleasant.”

“I had a fun time.”

“Of course you did, you fucking psycho.”

“Hey,” Dream frowned deeply, “don’t call me that. It’s not nice to call your friends names, and we’re friends, Tommy.”

“It’s not nice to burn your friends with silver either.”

“Ugh, are we still on that? That’s so, like, yesterday. Get over it, dog.”

Wilbur seemed to lose his shit at that comment—ironic—and jumped over the counter between him and Dream.

“‘Over it’? You want him to get fucking over it like you didn’t try to kill him?” The brunet shouted, and Dream summoned another knife.

“Shut up, Wilbur.” He said plainly. “I came here to speak to Tommy, not you.”

“Well, I’m afraid we can’t allow that. I’ll have to ask you to leave.” Techno said, stepping in between the conflict.

His voice was collected, but Tommy saw the way his eyes flickered nervously to the destroyed camera and his reckless twin.

“Is that right, Techno?” Dream stepped further into the cafe. “Are you kicking me out?”

“Yes.” His tone left no room for argument.

Dream made room. “I’m not leaving until I speak with Tommy, but we can speak outside if you prefer.”

“Like hell you are.” Wilbur cut in, darting closer to the bastard. “You better fuck right off now, Dream. Or you’ll regret it.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes.”

“Do you speak on behalf of Philza?”

“Yes.”

Dream tutted. “So certain of yourself, even when your sire isn’t present. Are you lying to me, Wilbur? Like a little angsty teenage boy wearing his dad’s pants?”

This was getting out of hand. They were going to start full-out brawling if Tommy didn’t do something quickly.

The blond spoke up then. “What do you want, Dream? Say your piece and go.”

Dream let out a low whistle. “So eager to see me go. I just wanted to make amends, gosh.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “No, you fucking didn’t. ”

“Tommy, come on, we’re friends. Come back to me.”

“My answer is no. Fuck off, man.”

Dream muttered something under his breath, the air around him seemed to go static. Techno and Wilbur both tensed, Tommy’s tail twitched in a mix of agitation and fear.

“I don’t want to have to do this, but I will if I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Dream, cut the bullshit.” Wilbur's own fingers twitched slightly. “Why are you, like, obsessed with him?”

“Why are you obsessed with him?” Dream fired right back.

Wilbur stammered at that, faltering in his stance. Techno took the opportunity to pull out a fucking sword. From where? Who knows. Maybe his ass or something.

“Do you just want him because I do? Just so you can take him into your coven and I can’t have him?”

“No,” Dream answered, and it seemed genuine, “I see the same things in him that you do, but hurting you is a bonus.”

“I thought you guys were allies.” Tommy said quietly, a little confused as to what was happening.

Techno had started to advance on Dream slowly, but the man seemed unphased at the weapon pointed at him. Perhaps he didn’t have to be afraid.

“Officially, we still are.” Dream replied cheerily. “But oh my god are you fuckers annoying.”

Techno was only a few feet away now. He began to smile when Dream reached behind himself and found the door to the cafe locked.

His eyes flicked to Wilbur, and sent him a scathing glare. The man just batted his eyes innocently, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Tommy could practically smell the tainted history in this room, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“You don’t see the things I see, Dream. All you see is a fur coat.” Wilbur spat harshly.

“A fur coat that would be absolutely radiant on my wall.”

“He’s not a fucking fur coat to me!”

“Of course not.” Dream scoffed. “I’m not dumb. However, whether he’s a fur coat or not doesn’t matter because, to you and I, he’s the same.”

Dream walked up to be nose to nose with Wilbur. His red eyes bore into those so similar yet different from his. Nobody moved an inch, unsure of what was happening.

“He’s a prize.”

Tommy lunged as he heard those words. He would not fucking stand there and let three vampires talk about him right in front of his face.

Wilbur—like a sane man—moved back and out of Tommy’s way. Dream—like an insane man—let out a manic laugh as if this is what he wanted all along.

(It was.)

Claws dug in and tore the flesh of Dream’s forearm, but the man didn’t howl in pain. His eyes seemed to glow as the skin knitted itself whole again.

Techno sprung into action, attempting to break Dream and Tommy up. He was terrified of accidentally hitting the werewolf though, and refused to swing too closely.

Tommy and Dream were a flurry of movement, punches exchanged for punches. The boy had latched on to Dream’s shoulder with his teeth and refused to let go.

He hoped he gave the man rabies or something.

Suddenly, Dream stopped moving, and with the entanglement of limbs, Tommy did too. Only then did everyone see the delicate red strings wrapped around the boy like a puppet.

He was captured like a fish in a net. Hook, line, and sinker.

The threads seem to extend under his skin, or maybe those were his veins. They looked really red.

“Fuck.” Techno cursed, and Tommy had never heard the man curse before he didn't think.

It felt strange, like a dream.

Dream. Dream?

Tommy felt faint. Was he dreaming?

There was something sticky on his face, and he pawed at it, but he couldn’t get his paws to cooperate.

They were clumsy and uncoordinated as they moved around his snout. He looked down, and his hands no longer had claws. They shook and multiplied as Tommy’s vision blurred.

His breathing was frantic as he leaned onto the person next to him, probably Wilbur, feeling the way arms encircled him immediately. He snuggled closer.

(Definitely not Wilbur.)

The werewolf couldn’t hear his own breaths nor his name over the jackhammering of his heart.

It pulsed throughout his whole body.

A steady beat.

Just like Techno’s purring.

Just like Tubbo’s snoring.

Tommy’s head was pulsing too.

That one was less pleasant.

Hello?

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Chapter Text

Tommy was falling.

It was evident in the way his stomach dropped through him, the weightlessness of his body, and the blue sky whistling into his ears.

He glanced around, unsure of how he even got here. What scenario could ever lead him to be falling like this?

(He can think of one, but he is not Theseus in this story.)

Tommy wasn’t scared, in fact he seemed at peace as he let the world speed by past him. He could not see the ground, and could not seem to get his bearings.

The whistling noise told him he was falling, but in what direction? Down certainly, but there wasn’t any wind on his face nor back, and there was no way to orient himself.

He spun himself in a complete circle. Neat.

There were some birds to the right of Tommy, but they seemed wrong. Their faces were pointed and smooth, features melting away in the distance between them.

Tommy was having trouble making out their faces or feet. Hell, he couldn’t tell which part was the bottom of their wings to try and right himself.

Or maybe they had none of those things. Not neat.

The birds were white, meshing with the rapidly dissipating and reforming clouds. They didn’t seem to get any further away from Tommy. Were they falling with him?

Tommy opened his mouth to call out to them—or perhaps just to scream. The falling feeling in his stomach was starting to get nauseous, as the original adrenaline faded and made way for unease.

No noise escaped the boy, either because it couldn’t or it was lost to the wind. It was getting harder to distinguish the difference between himself and everything else.

Was he actually moving his arms, or was the wind contorting his movements? Was he truly falling, or was he suspended while the world moved around him?

Tommy didn’t know anymore, and he began to panic. This wasn’t fun anymore.

He tried to flex his fingers in front of him, attempting to curl them into a fist. His body moved slowly, like it was on a delay or like he was watching himself through the lens of someone else.

The feeling when a sound doesn’t match up with the video, or watching your own live stream lag while you play a video game.

Tommy glanced towards the birds again, head moving at what he thought was normal speed.

It was hard to tell when nothing around you changed.

Blue, blue, and more blue. Was he even moving anymore?

You can tell when cars move forward because the buildings don’t shift with them. You can tell the fish are swimming because the bottom of the lake is stagnant.

In the deep blue sky, everything was shifting, yet nothing seemed to change at all.

Tommy eyed the clouds, hoping for some sort of benchmark to get his bearings. They surrounded him, appearing and disappearing, but they did not move.

They formed a circular formation around him, simply dissolving into thin air and then being recreated all at once. They were uniform—useless.

They would not change even if he was moving. Nothing would.

No, no, he was moving because now he could see the birds. How long that took him he was unsure of.

There were more of them, and they had gotten closer to him. The damn things were completely still, utterly featureless as they pointed their beaks at him.

Tommy blinked, and then they were right in front of him. He startled, and he thinks he screamed.

He could not hear it. The whistling had grown louder.

The birds were larger than he thought, easily being four feet in length. They had perfectly white feathers covering them from head to toe. Their beaks appeared to be made out of porcelain, but there was a seam for their mouths.

Tommy tried to reach out and touch the closet one, but he made the mistake of diverting his eyes to a black spec he thought he saw in the distance.

The birds were upon him at once, snapping at his hands, ears, and clothes. They tugged at his skin, tearing off tiny pieces and hairs.

He tried to shove them away—to growl, to bark, to fucking do anything, but he couldn’t. They were as quick as bullets as they swirled around him, a flurry of feathers and blood.

One of them caught his tail, and it felt as if it had been severed clean off.

His limbs were starting to lose feeling, strange in the sense that stinging, inconsistent pain shouldn’t ever numb. A thousand paper cuts or whatever they say.

There was a hand in his hair, but it was cold and not clawed. Tommy’s first thought was that it might be Purpled; his second was that it might be Wilbur.

He did not expect to open his eyes and see a freckled face with sandy blond hair.

The world seemed to fall faster. The birds were gone now.

Dream stood on nothing, but he seemed still and stable in the air—unlike Tommy’s unceremonious plummeting.

He didn’t seem affected by the situation they were in, like falling from the sky was part of any other regular day. Somehow, that scared Tommy more.

There was always a reason for fear, and there was always a reason for calmness too.

Tommy doubted that calmness purely stemmed from Dream's assurance in his own abilities. There was something more behind the man’s cold expression—something that exuded power.

Dream gave a slight tug on one of Tommy’s ears, causing the boy to jerk away. The vampire had a sadistic smile on his face as he stared down at the boy.

Neither of them spoke, one because he couldn’t and the other because it was more fun not to.

Dream moved his hand to cup Tommy’s face, his large smile unwavering. The birds appeared again, resting on his shoulders and head.

A few circled the pair up above, cawing as they brought more to the scene. They flew endlessly, waiting for what was surely to come.

Tommy felt his pulse quicken, and Dream tilted his head to one side. The werewolf wondered if he could hear his heartbeat over the deafening wind.

If there even was any wind.

The birds’ wings beat faster overhead.

As a kid, Tommy wished he had wings. He wished he could fly up into the sky and escape the troubles of the ground: the streets, the fights, the struggle.

He wanted to be free—to soar far away from his problems. He wanted to feel the wind in his hair and the exhilaration of the dives.

He always thought his wings would be a bright yellow, the kind that shimmered like gold in the right amount of sunlight.

They would be large, well big enough to wrap him and Tubbo up every night and protect them from the cold.

He would keep them pristine, clean of any grime or dirt and shiny in the way that real birds would envy their gloss.

Now, falling in front of the man he loathed, Tommy imagined those very same wings. He imagined them stretched behind his back, flapping as the sky became at his beck and call.

He imagined the surprised expression on Dream’s face, and the middle finger Tommy would flip to the man with smug enthusiasm.

He would turn back to the big blue skies and soar away, glancing back once to see the man he left in his dust.

Instead of a speck of a vampire oh-so-very far away. He would stare at his own wings, bloodied and plucked.

The appendages would lose their thrust as more and more feathers fell from the bone, and Tommy would plummet out of the sky.

Down, down, down. Blood streaked past him as he struggled against the pull of gravity. His wings aching as they became nothing more than a framework.

Dream would be the one to catch him, wiping the tears and blood off his cheeks, and then, he would drop him once more.

The boy would fall away, swallowed by the never-ending blue.

Tommy blinked, and he hovered in front of Dream once more. The man stared down at him with the same unsettling expression, head tilted.

He wasn’t dreaming though, nor was he stuck in his own head. Both Tommy and Dream were painted with red.

Tommy was feeling a bit lightheaded now, but perhaps that was simply the elevation.

The birds became impatient, cawing louder as they stared down at their prey. Tommy stared blearily at them while Dream seemed to chuckle inwardly.

Tommy blinked. Something shifted. Something had changed.

There were wings on his back, but they were not feathered and glossy. They were hard and leathery, cracked and claw-tipped.

Monstrous.

They were shriveled and weak. They did not flap nor carry Tommy into the sky towards a looming freedom.

Instead, they crumbled at the breeze of the wind, turning to ash in an instant and spreading an inky blackness into the sky.

The birds became louder. Outraged.

In an instant, their restraint broke, and they swooped down to claim their prey themselves. Dream let them.

For the second time, Tommy was swarmed by the creatures, but they didn’t just tear at his skin. This time, they began to drag him down.

The wind pounded on his back—how could he feel the wind now?—fighting against his sudden and speedy change in altitude. The birds were stronger though, and powered through the resistance.

Tommy, in a fit of fear, began fighting back with all his strength. His movements were sloppy and slow, but he ripped the birds off of him one by one.

Slowly, he began to rise again, and the boy didn’t know whether to be dreadful or relieved as he approached Dream.

Turns out he didn’t have to decide, because once he was within arms reach of what he considered to be salvation, the birds dragged him down once more.

Dream was not safe by a long shot, but he was Tommy’s only chance at finding a way home. The man knew something about this place.

Over and over again, Tommy fought against the creatures who clawed at his skin and clothes. Over and over again, they grabbed him before he could fully escape their grasp and pulled him down once more.

The birds were not missing their second opportunity to take Tommy’s life. They pulled harder and harder on his bloodied form.

They were relentless, especially after Tommy’s crude mockery of their wings—his attempt so rudimentary that the appendages had nearly sent the boy tumbling to his death themselves.

Serves him right. The birds were merely finishing a job half-done.

They would not let him cheat death twice.

Harbingers.

The word was whispered and carried by the wind. Dream stared down at the boy beneath him, the edges of his mouth pulled so far up there were gums and molars showing.

It did not sound like Dream’s voice who had spoken. It sounded more familiar, but perhaps that was a trick of distortion, as the wind was not known for its expertise at the game of telephone.

Harbingers of what though? There were so many words that came to mind.

Death.

Destruction.

Hope.

Peace.

Tommy had some strong suspicions on which kind of harbingers these birds were.

Ruffled feathers had made way for beady black eyes, and they looked at Tommy with a ravenous hunger. They were not there as his beacon of light.

Again and again, they kept him from breaching the figurative surface, and Tommy contemplated letting them have his way.

However, the more he cracked—blood spilling out of his seams—the wider Dream’s smile got, eyes dilated with wonder.

He was enjoying this.

Tommy reached as high as he could, shaking off the remaining birds with a solid kick to the beak. Before they could grab ahold of him again, the boy grasped the toe of Dream’s shoe.

The birds tugged at him, but he would not let go, despite how much he hated relying on Dream and the appearance of him groveling.

The werewolf felt sick at the smug satisfaction on the man’s mug. He was only a pawn in Dream’s gruesome game.

Dream reached for his face again, tracing his finger around Tommy’s features. The man’s eyes were an even brighter red now, practically glowing.

Then, in an instant, that delicate finger was plunged directly into Tommy’s eye, worming its way around the socket.

The boy’s face contorted in pain as he felt an immense pressure build in the back of his head. He felt a slight pop and heard a squelching noise vibrate through his skull.

When his vision–

Vision?

What vision?

Red, red, red.

There was blood pooling in his eyes.

One was completely pressed shut.

The other?

What other?

–cleared of the blurry haze that had coated it, he stared dazedly at the person ahead of him.

His head was reeling, black edging at the corners of his eyesight as shapes and colors blurred. In front of him stood a blond whom he was very familiar with, piercing red eyes staring down at him with disdain.

In front of him, Purpled stood in Dream’s shoes.

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.

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Chapter Text

Tommy’s instincts immediately kicked in, and he attempted to scramble his way to Purpled’s side. He needed to make sure the boy was alright, especially with Dream in the area.

Purpled didn’t move any closer to him or help. He just stood there, staring blankly at the blond. He looked so cold, so unfeeling.

Tommy stopped. “Purpled?”

“Dog.” Purpled spat, face contorting in disdain.

Tommy recoiled like he had been hit, eyes wide with surprise. His brother had never called him names before, not even as a joke.

“What?”

Purpled laughed, low and maniacal. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes for how wide it was; it was uncanny.

Tommy tracked his features with astute attention, trying to understand. The fledgling seemed to enjoy his bewilderment.

“It was so easy to fool you, like having a puppy chase a ball.”

“You’re not making any sense, man. Are you okay? Did Dream hurt you?” Tommy worried his lip between his teeth, his eyes unfocusing so that he could only see the silhouette of the fledgling.

He was losing consciousness again.

(Again? When had it happened before?

What had caused it this time? Blood loss?

What? You’re losing blood?)

Purpled scoffed. “Dream would never hurt me.”

“He did hurt you, Purpled.”

“No, but acting like he did got you right into the palm of my hands, didn’t it?”

Tommy didn’t understand, but Purpled kept going.

“You let me into your home, your room, your pack. All the while I was in contact with my sire, siphoning everything I knew to him.”

No, no, no. That doesn’t make sense. Purpled took the oath. He vowed to never bring harm to the pack—to his brothers.

“What? You don’t remember the suspicious phone calls?” The voice barely sounds like Purpled anymore.

Tommy felt a little loopy right now. He was really hungry right now. He didn’t get to eat his croissant. That seemed so long ago.

Tommy does remember the phone calls. All the times when he heard Purpled’s phone buzz and watched the boy disappear into his bedroom.

The werewolves never questioned it. It wasn’t their business after all. Purpled had a right to his secrets.

Honestly, with all the secrecy, Tommy had his money on it being a lover. The closed bedroom door was so telling to him.

He internally groaned at his loss of five dollars. He should’ve betted on the calls being an evil enemy or blackmail.

“Remember now, mutt?” Oh, shit, right, focus.

Tommy barely managed to nod, eyes wide as saucers. This Purpled was so different from the one he found cowering in an alleyway—the one that was afraid to eat because he didn’t want to hurt anybody.

This was not his Purpled. He could feel it in his soul.

“I told Dream everything, so he could get you right where he wanted. It certainly worked.”

“Where’s your braids?” Tommy asked suddenly, only half paying attention to the bullshit Purpled was saying.

He craned his neck to try and see the plaits in the platinum hair. His body was not cooperating though, and everything seemed so silly all of a sudden.

“Took ‘em out. They looked stupid.” Purpled scoffed, a little off-put by the werewolf’s attitude.

Tommy giggled. They did look a little stupid, but when does love not? It was three tiny, poorly-braided pieces of hair with bright tassels.

It was the epitome of fashion; if they were fourth graders with a unicorn obsession.

“Nah.” Tommy said instead of all that jabber in his mind.

Would taking out the braids immediately after the ceremony break the bond? Probably, right? Taking them out so soon would leave no time for the magic to solidify.

Tommy tried to feel around his magic bonds, but nothing seemed out of place. He giggled again.

“‘Nah’? Is something funny to you right now?” Purpled seemed angry with him, but Tommy could see the undercurrent of wariness lining his features.

The boy hummed, creating an up-beat tune that Tubbo would have loved. They used to sing each other to sleep back when nightmares plagued their cold nights.

Tommy’s nightmares were of dark rooms and thick leather—the type he couldn’t chew through. Tubbo liked to call them memories.

“You didn’t take out the braids.” Tommy said through the crescendo of chaos in his mind—of memories and imagination alike. “Don’t be silly.”

“What the fuck are you saying? Are you broken or something?” Purpled was sweating nervously.

Tommy’s vision was not being very nice right now. Its swirling bright colors and dots made his stomach queasy. He tried to remain upright, but eventually he folded in on himself on the invisible ground-border-thingy.

However, the shifter did have enough time to shield his face from the ‘ground’ with his hands, each contact on his forehead sending a new burst of color in his eyes.

(Eye.)

His head seemed very bare. He could feel the breeze on his scalp, beneath his fur. His ears were ringing too, or maybe it sounded more like static or white noise. It was hard to distinguish.

He couldn’t hear Purpled’s voice at all now, but he wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t his Purpled.

His Purpled was kind, honest, and considerate. His Purpled cried over silly bonding gifts and protected his pack with all he had. His Purpled liked cuddles and head rubs.

His Purpled always wore earring studs in both lobes.

What a little thing to overlook.

So silly.

Tommy opened his eyes with a jolt. He didn’t even remember closing them. Something had startled him, but he was now alone in the blue void.

There were no birds, no Dream, and no Purpled. The boy looked around confusedly, his previous anxiety and stress a faraway thought.

Everything seemed muddled still, but he knew something had to have woken him.

He discovered it once he felt a sharp stabbing pain in the center of his back. A sharp cry wormed its way out of his throat as the pain moved up his spine.

Tommy attempted to reach behind him and feel for whatever was hurting him, but he couldn’t seem to get it. His movements were stiff with pain as he rubbed circles into the junction of his neck.

There was no blood, and he couldn’t feel anything around or under his skin. Something sharp traced its way down his collarbone and across his chest.

It was slow and precise—surgical and unyielding to Tommy’s yelps. Everything hurt so much.

Then, Tommy blinked, and he was back in the cafe.

A cacophony of noise hit him all at once, and he tried to flatten his ears. People were yelling and moving erratically, but all Tommy could see was a hazy red.

He was fucking sick of all this haze and red.

He was also sick of the ear-splitting noise, so he closed his eyes again. The noise became a cacophony when he did that, but soon he blinked and he was back in the blue.

The sharp prodding was now in his fingertips—like he was pressing them into a bunch of needles—but this was more pleasant than the cafe right now.

Wilbur’s throat felt raw as he screamed. The anguish in the cafe was palpable as Tommy drifted in and out of consciousness.

Nobody knew the extent of Dream’s blood magic, but Tommy was clearly somewhere else mentally. Wilbur hoped the boy was waiting for them somewhere pleasant.

Techno said that it was unlikely, and he could probably feel the pain each time Dream cut into him. Phil said Dream was probably trying to break his mind.

Wilbur’s unbeating heart hurt. He wanted his boy to return, to be okay and safe.

Techno was delivering swing after swing with his sword, but Dream—like the coward he was—kept using Tommy as a human shield.

Phil worked his magic from the sidelines, expression shrouded in black as webs of magic fanned out over the room to protect all his sons and hinder Dream.

Wilbur did nothing but stand and scream in abject horror. He wasn’t a fighter, and he wasn’t proficient with his magic. He was a diplomat, but his words had failed him here, had failed his family.

Dream glanced behind himself at the locked cafe door. Shifting Tommy into one hand and holding him up by the scruff to shield Dream’s body, the sire slammed a fist in the center of the door.

The wood splintered under the force, and there was no longer anything dividing Dream from the outdoors. The man grinned wildly, eyes glowing a bright red.

Suddenly, Techno was thrown back, Phil quickly following suit. Dream was trying to make a getaway, Tommy’s limp form clutched in his arms, dripping red.

His fur was matted in areas, and it was hard to tell how badly he was injured. Dream was not exactly neat with his aggressions.

Wilbur had never hated blood so much until that moment. He always thought all the red Tommy wore suited him, but now he never wanted to see the color on the boy again.

While the rest of his family recovered, the brunet decided to chase Dream, keeping tight to his heels as the man weaved through alleyways and streets.

Dream was drunk on the power of his blood magic, turning around periodically to taunt Wilbur. He jeered mockingly, sticking out his tongue and waggling Tommy around.

Oh well, that gave Wilbur the time to catch up. The man was gaining slowly but surely, the turns becoming tighter and tighter as Dream couldn’t keep his lead.

The next time Dream turned, Wilbur met him head on, getting real close and personal. His eyes glinted with amusement and anger, internally laughing at the thought that Dream believed he could ever truly get away from him.

That was his Tommy he was holding. He could practically touch the boy in the sire’s arms.

Dream scowled, flashing his fangs and holding the werewolf tighter, purple blooming beneath his fingers. He knew that as long as he had Tommy, the game would continue.

Wilbur did not account for this fact.

Just as Dream predicted, Wilbur stopped in his tracks immediately, staring defiantly at Dream but keeping his feet firmly planted down.

(He’s more like mutts than he thinks. Obeying orders like a dog.)

“Let him go, Dream.” Wilbur’s voice was strained. He hated seeing Tommy so hurt—hated that he couldn’t prevent it.

Dream’s voice was anything but strained, a playful lilt to his words, relaxed like this was a fun game of manhunt. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“He’s not yours.”

“He’s not yours either.”

That got the brunet fuming.

(Is he really any better than Dream? Or is he just going to live without confronting that terrible truth?

There is a correct answer.

Same person, different font.)

“And,” Dream clicked his tongue, causing Tommy’s whole body to convulse, “I’m not seeing the problem. I won the prize, didn’t I?”

Wilbur was so reactive, and Dream knew it. His eyes were locked on the boy’s twitching form, hands outstretched in a silent plea.

“Let him go.”

Tommy was suffering right in front of him, trapped in his own head and incapacitated by his injuries.

“I’m having too much fun.”

Dream wanted to see if he could break Wilbur. He was already in the process of seeing if he could break Tommy. They could be broken together, not that Tommy would be alive much longer.

Maybe he would. Dream might want to keep him around as a pretty sheep.

Wilbur was two seconds away from losing his cool, his hands clenched at his sides, nails digging into skin. He didn’t move a muscle.

He was completely locked in place, terrified of doing something rash that ended up with Tommy being in more pain. His mind was racing with ideas as he stood a mere twenty feet away from his boy.

The distance ended up working in his favor, as the sound of glass breaking filled the air and Dream let out a low hiss of pain.

Wilbur smiled at that. Every vampire and their mothers knew that sound and the holy water that followed it.

If Wilbur had been any closer he would have been in the splash zone. He shuddered and rubbed his hands together. Yikes.

The brunet allowed himself a wince of empathy—he knew how searing holy water felt on the skin. Ouch. Serves Dream right though for being a prick.

A loud thud suddenly sounded from behind the man, followed by a muttered curse and giggling. Dream’s head whipped back and forth, trying to see what was behind him while also keeping his eyes on Wilbur.

It was beginning to get dark, and the harsh shadows cast by the setting sun made the newcomers invisible to the vampires.

Wilbur was confused, a surge of protectiveness running through him. Are these more people who have come to hurt Tommy? Are they part of Dream’s coven? Did he call backup?

A scraping sound filled the air, getting closer and closer. Wilbur stared puzzled at the darkness before he saw a flash of brown and white fur. Glee filled his veins.

What was with these damn kids and jumping off roofs?

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