Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Tommy doesn't remember his parents very well, just a few blurry images, strained smiles, and little similarities between him and them. Tommy is all too used to the pain and misfortune they've caused, though.

 A child should never have to wake up one morning and find his older brother with dried tears trailing down his face slumped against the wall next to a locked door with a note taped to its surface. At the time, Tommy couldn't read what his parents wrote, but Wilbur told him that it said goodbye. The brothers' parents had spontaneously abandoned their children in the middle of the night with only a single word sprawled in permanent marker and their missing belongings telling them that they were now alone. Tommy was only six and Wilbur ten.

 Neither of them knew what or how to do anything, so they tried their best. Wilbur would try to make meals out of whatever food was left three times a day, they continued their routine of taking baths every two days, Tommy would force Wilbur to play games with him for hours, and at night, they would cuddle up on the couch and watch movies until they fell asleep with their pointed tails intwined together. It was somewhat both lucky and unfortunate that they were left behind at the beginning of the summer, when school was out and their neighbors were on long vacations. But eventually, the food began to run out and the number of meals decreased from three to two to one, the water, heat, air conditioning, and electricity shut off without the bills being paid, and Tommy and Wilbur both became too hungry to play like they used to.

 After a lot of thinking on Wilbur's part, the two of them packed a couple of backpacks full of the remaining food, clothes, money from their piggy banks, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and anything else they could fit (like Wilbur's stuffed blue sheep Friend and Tommy's stuffed cow Henry). Then Tommy and Wilbur set out into the world they thought they were familiar with. Again, not knowing exactly what to do, Wilbur guided them-- always hand in hand with Tommy-- both towards and away from people. They instinctively stuck to alleys and shadows, as if letting people see them would allow them to repeat the brothers' abandonment, in the downtown areas near all the shops. This allowed Wilbur to easily bargain for and mostly steal food and water for him and Tommy. It worked, but when the season morphed from hot sunny days to ones of chilly winds, things started getting difficult. It became more obvious when it was Wilbur specifically taking things from the stores without the large crowds hiding the boy, and neither of them had enough of or the right kind of clothes to keep warm as the temperatures dropped even further. Sometimes, Tommy told Wilbur he wanted to go home, but Wilbur always said they didn't have one anymore. It was so sad, especially for a six-year-old that should have been at school instead of shivering against a brick wall as he waited for his brother to return, hopefully with food. Most of the times Wilbur returned, though, that fall, his young hands were bare. Soon their stomachs were, too.

 It was a miracle (that Tommy now reflects to be more of a curse) that child services finally found him and Wilbur. They were half frozen, desperately clutching their stuffed animals and each other in search of a bit of warmth. Wilbur had snarled at the adults approaching them that day with his slightly sharpened teeth while Tommy simply curled further into his older brother's malnourished chest. When the people promised warmth and food and care, Wilbur had no choice but to cave and reluctantly allowed them to help Tommy and him off the ground and into a car that brought them to the rest of their lives.

 Tommy wishes he was never found and died in that fucking alley.

 By the same time of the next year when Tommy was seven, and Wilbur was eleven, the two of them had been through several foster families and group homes. They both became accustomed to a new form of abandonment: surrender. The families could never seem to love Tommy's boisterous personality, Wilbur's happy energy, and the chaotic nature that came with demon hybrids.

 Once Tommy and Wilbur started getting more abusive homes, though, the loud cheerful words and bright hopeful smiles began to dim. The chaos started to get managed despite the pain it might have caused for developing instincts and features, but it was a means of survival. One that kept getting repeated no matter how many times Mrs. Puffy, Tommy and Wilbur's social worker, assigned them to new homes that were supposedly safe. But Tommy and Wilbur persevered, one of the things they're best at, despite the pain and fear.

 Things got especially bad when Tommy and Wilbur were sent to live with a ram hybrid named Johnathan Schlatt, or Schlatt as Tommy and Wilbur called him. Tommy was nine and Wilbur thirteen. Tommy liked Schlatt at first. The man was funny, often doing amusing voices, and he seemed to care about the two brothers. He just had a small drinking problem. And by small, Tommy means that he drank most nights and weekends. When he was drunk, Tommy and Wilbur helped get him whatever he needed to feel better and often laid a nice blanket over Schlatt when he passed out in his armchair, a bottle still clutched in his hand. Only once did Schlatt drink so much that he hurt them, and that one time changed everything.

 It was a weekend, and Tommy and Wilbur were on the couch watching a movie. Schlatt suddenly burst through the front door reeking of alcohol and swaying and swearing like crazy. He had gone out with some friends a few hours earlier, and apparently they must have gotten wasted. Tommy and Wilbur paused their movie and got up to help their foster guardian who looked like he was going to fall over. But when they got closer to Schlatt, he looked at them with disgust and anger.

 "You filthy pricks," Schlatt snarled. "You damned demons." That had hurt, still does. Demon hybrids are typically scorned, and Tommy has felt a lot of that scorn firsthand, but Tommy and Wilbur had never done anything bad with their hybridity. Especially not to Schlatt.

 Schlatt wobbled over to Tommy and Wilbur who backed up from the foul-smelling man. A hand came out of nowhere and slapped Tommy straight across the face, stinging so badly that tears welled up in his eyes, but out of miserable practice, Tommy didn't let them fall.

 "What the fuck!?" Wilbur exclaimed and moved Tommy behind him while the blonde cradled his stricken face and stared at Schlatt in shock. "We've done nothing to you, don't fucking hit him!" Wilbur always got angry when they were abused, but his outbursts only happened when it was Tommy specifically who got hurt.

 "Shut the fuck up, you fucking charity case!" Schlatt yells and grabs Wilbur by the hem of his shirt, pulling Tommy's brother much closer to the drunk man. "You don't fucking talk back to me!"

 Schlatt threw Wilbur to the ground and started pummeling him with his fists and nails and kicking him with his stilled shoed feet. Wilbur cried out in absolute pain, and Tommy rushed to help his brother. Tommy punched Schlatt with his small fists and weakly pushed him, trying to get his guardian off of his brother. Schlatt backhanded Tommy, cracking the nine-year-old's nose and sending him practically flying across the room into the wall. Blood streamed out of Tommy's nose, but he ignored it and the pains rippling throughout his body to resume saving Wilbur. The screams were deafening, and Tommy wanted to cover his ears, but he needed his hands to fight back. With the most threatening snarl Tommy could muster, he bared his small fangs at Schlatt and wrapped his red pointed tail and hands around Schlatt's arm. With all of Tommy's strength, he pulled Schlatt away from Wilbur, and when he tried to go back, Tommy swiped his young claws at him. It drew blood and that surprised Schlatt into going still. He stared at the shallow claw marks on his chest and the tail around his arm for a few moments while Tommy continued to drag Schlatt away from his sobbing brother. In a matter of moments, Schlatt realized what Tommy had done and ripped Tommy's tail off of his arm. Tommy yelped in pain. Schlatt punched Tommy in the face again before throwing him next to Wilbur by his tail. Tommy landed with a harsh crash, but only spared a second of rest before he positioned himself in front of Wilbur, who had gone concerningly quiet, sharp teeth bared and tail painfully flicking back and forth. Tommy would have protected Wilbur with his life if it came to it, but Schlatt only scoffed at them before leaving to his bedroom.

 Finally, Tommy relaxed just a miniscule amount, and turned to face Wilbur. Wilbur... Wilbur had never been beaten so badly. His whole face was bruised and bloody, and Tommy assumed the rest of his curled-up body was the same.

 "Wilbur?" Tommy asked softly. Wilbur didn't respond. "Wilbur?" Tommy said again a little louder. Wilbur still didn't respond. "I'll be right back," Tommy quickly limped to the bathroom, wet a towel, and came back to his brother that still hadn't moved.

 Tommy helped Wilbur sit up and leaned him against the back of the couch. With the cold wet towel, Tommy wiped the blood and tears off of his brother's face. Wilbur's red eyes stared into nothing the entire time. When Wilbur's face was clean, Tommy got up and threw the towel into the bathtub. Then he called Mrs. Puffy on the old phone in the kitchen. The sheep hybrid's phone number was the first one he ever memorized and Tommy told her what Schlatt had done. Tommy asked about Wilbur, and Mrs. Puffy sounded so sad when she told him that Tommy needs to ground Wilbur. Not the kind of grounding you do when you get in trouble, but more of anchoring him back to reality. It might have been rude, but Tommy hung up on Mrs. Puffy then, the only time he ever did, but he needed to get back to Wilbur and help him immediately. Mrs. Puffy understood when Tommy explained that to her later when she arrived at Schlatt's house with a few police officers.

 Tommy was gentle, he didn't know how much pain Wilbur was in to dissociate like he was, so he lightly rubbed his brother's shoulders. When that didn't work, Tommy took Wilbur's hands in his and rubbed circles on them with his thumbs. Tommy moved to Wilbur's side, laid his head on Wilbur's shoulder, and curled his aching tail around Wilbur's. After a few minutes, Tommy switched to pinching the skin on Wilbur's hands and murmuring anything that came to Tommy's mind. He distinctly remembers talking about a dream he had where he had a pet spider named Shroud and a pet moth named Clementine and they went on adventures together.

 Little by little, Wilbur came back to Tommy. First his fingers twitched, then he blinked, and slowly, Wilbur seemed to wake up or shake off the daze he had retreated to.

 "Tommy?" Tommy looked up at Wilbur as the older turned his head and peered down at him. "Tommy, I'm so sorry."

 "What are you sorry for?" Tommy asked curiously.

 "For not protecting you. You got hurt," Wilbur sounded so sad, so Tommy cuddled closer. Tommy had forgotten about his nose, and the blood had already dried.

 "It's not your fault, Wilbur. I'm fine. Are you okay?"

 Wilbur nodded, and the two of them stayed curled around each other until Mrs. Puffy came and fretted over them.

 For the next year, Tommy and Wilbur mostly stayed in group homes. Wilbur would often dissociate, and Tommy would have to ground him. Wilbur was always sorry afterwards, but Tommy always said it was fine. But it wasn't.

 When Tommy was ten, and Wilbur was fourteen, the two of them received their final placement. Dream Taken lived in Pogtopia, a city that Tommy and Wilbur had only ever been driven through. The place was known for its crime and poverty, but there were some nice areas, one of which that Dream lived in. Tommy and Wilbur each got their own small bedrooms, although, they mostly stayed the night together in Wilbur's room. Dream himself was nice, he cared for them, gave them food and clothes, and enrolled them in school. There were rules like no fighting, no sneaking food, and help with chores, but those were to be expected. What wasn't expected was for Dream to also be a hybrid, specifically a mimic, which is rarer than demon hybrids. A mimic can adopt another hybrid's traits but only for a temporary amount of time. Dream didn't use it that often though and chose to just appear as a normal human. Finally, Tommy and Wilbur seemed to have found a good home with only a slightly controlling guardian.

 But, as Tommy knows far too well, good things never last long.

 When Tommy started school in the middle of the year after moving in with Dream, he made a few friends: Jack, Niki, and Fundy. Jack was a normal human, and Niki and Fundy were siblings that shared fox hybridity (Niki being a fennec fox hybrid and Fundy just being a normal one). They grew slightly distant over the summer break, but Tommy expected things to go back to normal when school started up again in the fall. It didn't. Instead, Tommy's three friends became his daily tormentors, his bullies. They would corner him before, during, and after school, punch his chest, kick his sides, and tug on his developing horns. They always targeted places that could easily be covered by clothes. For only being two years older than Tommy, they were quite smart when it came to bullying the shit out of him.

 Tommy tried to tell Wilbur about it, even rolled up his sleeves to show the bruises he had got. But his fifteen-year-old brother ignored him. It had been happening more often lately: Wilbur would barely acknowledge Tommy's existence, wouldn't let Tommy sleep in his bedroom anymore, and only spoke to him after Tommy helped ground him out of a dissociation episode. Tommy went to Dream next, but all he said was for Tommy to stop looking for attention. Tommy was heartbroken, both his brother and foster father were ignoring him and the obvious sign of bullying and thought that Tommy was faking bruises to get more attention. So Tommy stopped looking for help and dealt with the injuries and bullying on his own.

 That was, unfortunately, only the start of the many years to come.

 Wilbur was obviously struggling with his mental health (Tommy knew this because he was, and still is, too), and when Tommy tried to help him, Wilbur pushed him away. Literally, Tommy's older brother shoved Tommy into a wall and locked his door between them. The betrayal hurt more than the impact. A few days later, Wilbur started smoking, and Dream didn't stop him. Not even when Wilbur was the one that started abusing Tommy.

 Tommy remembers that day like it was yesterday. After a particularly rough day at school, Tommy had hopefully gone to Wilbur's room in search of comfort that he so desperately needed but doubted he would receive. Tommy knocked on the door and it whipped open a second later to reveal Tommy's older brother with two fingers to the cigarette in between his lips.

 "What, Tommy?" Wilbur asked coldly. He took a drag of the cigarette and exhaled the smoke right in Tommy's face with a wicked grin.

 Tommy coughed and waved the smoke away. "I, uh, I wanted to spend time with you," Tommy answered.

 Wilbur looks Tommy up and down with a calculating gaze before harshly grabbing Tommy by the wrist and pulling him into Wilbur's room. The door shut behind them, and Tommy's eyes had to adjust to the dim lighting of the room he hadn't been in for a while. Nothing much had changed. Really, it was just the addition of the half-filled ash tray on his nightstand and the thin haze of smoke that blanketed the room.

 "So, how did you want to spend time with me?" Wilbur asked, exhaling more smoke.

 "Um, just hang out, chat," Tommy fidgeted with his hands. This was already the longest conversation of sorts Tommy had had with Wilbur in longer than it should have been.

 "Hm, like about how stupid you are?" Tommy whirled around to face Wilbur, confused and stunned at the words that had come out of his brother's mouth.

 Wilbur's red eyes (that, like his horns and tail, were darker than Tommy's) glinted malevolently in the dim light. "You really don't get it?" Wilbur leaned down in front of Tommy and smirked, the cigarette still clutched in between his lips. "I don't want to see you, Tommy. I don't want to talk to you. Why else do you think I've been ignoring you?" The words chipped away at Tommy's heart.

 "What? Why?" Tommy asked meekly.

  Wilbur paused, but only for a second. "You're so goddamn annoying, Tommy. You need to just shut up," Wilbur removed the cigarette from his mouth and extinguished it by pressing the tip against Tommy's neck.

 Tommy cried out in pain and when he tried to push Wilbur away from him, Wilbur slapped him. Tears welled up in Tommy's eyes. He felt so betrayed. Tommy didn't fully understand why his brother, the brother that once loved, cared for, and protected Tommy with all of his heart, was hurting him, treating him like the people that had previously ruined both of their lives. Even if it was because Tommy was annoying, that couldn't have been the only reason. But Tommy was eleven, and he couldn't see more than his brother's cruel smile, couldn't feel more than the harsh hands gripping his blonde hair, couldn't hear more than the violent words aimed at his heart like an arrow, couldn't smell more than the smoke, and couldn't taste more than the blood in his mouth.

 Tommy left Wilbur's room later with a split lip and several new bruises and burns.

 After that day, Wilbur gave up on ignoring Tommy. Instead, he would go out of his way to say some mean shit that hurt Tommy more than it should have. But, at the time, if it came from Wilbur, nothing could mean everything, and love could mean hate. Sometimes, Wilbur would hurt Tommy physically, too. Tommy wished that Wilbur had just kept ignoring him. It was better than the abuse.

 Dream ignored everything Wilbur was doing to Tommy. He would act like Tommy wasn't in pain all the time and would never defend Tommy or stop Wilbur when the older was either physically or mentally harming Tommy.

 By the time Wilbur turned eighteen, Tommy had lost most of his love for Wilbur. For once, on Wilbur's eighteenth birthday, he, Wilbur, and Dream actually had a nice night together. They celebrated like a true family. Then, the next morning, Tommy woke up and found Wilbur's room practically empty and his brother gone. Just like their parents, Wilbur had abandoned Tommy while he slept. But truly, he did that years ago.

 Dream didn't talk about Wilbur or his absence, and Tommy thought that the two of them were growing close for a few months. Then they moved from Pogtopia to Lodgestire. It was there where Tommy's life truly began and ended. Where it finally began to improve while getting worse at the same time. It's where Dream finally showed his true colors.

 Dream began to fill the role that Tommy hadn't had for about four years: an abusive foster parent. Every time Tommy did something wrong or disappointed Dream, he would get punished. Dream made up for the lack of bullies at school with his own fists. His words hurt, too, but not as much as Wilbur's. His foster father even started using his hybridity to assume claws and fangs and other traits to hurt Tommy even more.

 After the first few weeks of high school and Dream's abuse, Tommy met Tubbo. Tubbo, the energetic bee hybrid that Tommy is happy to say is still his friend to this day. The brunette knew how to cheer Tommy up when the blonde was having a bad day, even if he didn't know why Tommy was so down, and the two of them have such fun together.

 When Tubbo first invited Tommy over to a sleepover, Tommy was nervous to ask Dream about going, but was beyond excited when Dream reluctantly agreed. Tommy had never been to a sleepover with a friend before and didn't know what to expect. And he certainly didn't expect Tubbo to notice his pain and Tommy to fucking trauma dump on Tubbo as they lay in the dark on the floor of Tubbo's bedroom. It was just too overwhelming to not share with the only person who actually cares about and sees Tommy. Tubbo, despite never having gone through a fraction of what Tommy did, understood Tommy's pain and comforted him as he cried and apologized to no one and everyone in particular. Tubbo tried to offer his help (specifically his nonexistent hitman services) and questioned why Tommy hadn't called his social worker. It was painful for Tommy to explain that Dream might hurt Tubbo if he knew the bee boy knew, and the same would happen to Tommy (and Tubbo) if Tommy told Mrs. Puffy about the abuse. The same was a threat Wilbur and past guardians repeated on several occasions. Tommy has learned to live with pain and hide it so as to avoid more of it. Call it survival, call it trauma, it's the same fucking thing in the world of foster kids and abusive households.

 But as Tubbo cuddled around Tommy and draped his bee wings over him, Tommy realized that he didn't have to live with it alone. Tommy had Tubbo, who is more of a brother than Wilbur ever was.

 When Tommy turned sixteen, he and Tubbo got interviewed to work at Las Nevadas Cafe. Quackity, the owner of the establishment and energetic duck hybrid, eagerly hired the teenagers and they've worked there ever since. Which has been about a year as of now. There aren't many other workers at the cafe, just Charlie and Foolish who had been hired years before Tommy and Tubbo. Quackity helps out around, too, which is nice. Las Nevadas became the home Tommy lacked and his coworkers and boss the pseudo family he's always wanted. It's nice.

 Or it was before today, right now.

 Today is November sixteenth, a beautiful autumn Saturday. Tommy and Tubbo are behind the counter waiting for their next customer. The door chiming interrupts the teenagers' conversation about the new fall themed items on the menu, and Tommy turns to take the newcomer's order. Tommy freezes when his bright red eyes meet the darker shade of Wilbur, the shitty older brother Tommy has happily not seen for three years.

Chapter Text

 Wilbur, Tommy notices, has gotten older in the few years since he disappeared. The brunette's teenage ache and remaining baby fat has left Wilbur's face, as well as the beanie that often covered Wilbur's dark red horns and brown hair that is a little longer now but still favors one side over the other. Unfortunately, the prick is still taller than Tommy and, of course, standing in front of Tommy in one of the only two places Tommy feels safe at (the other being Tubbo's house). Tommy does not want Wilbur to be here. Why does he have to be here?!

 Tommy takes a somewhat shaky breath and repeats his mini barista speech to Wilbur who has been on his phone during Tommy's silent existential breakdown, "Hello, welcome to Las Nevadas Cafe. What will you be ordering today?"

 Wilbur finally pockets his phone and looks up at Tommy. Tommy barely suppresses a flinch at how those dark red eyes land on him. Even without the cruelty they once gazed at Tommy with, those eyes hold lots of bad memories for Tommy, often being the source of what made them so terrible. However, there's something missing from those eyes... Tommy realizes it with somewhat relieving clarity: Wilbur doesn't recognize him. Wilbur doesn't know who Tommy is.

 Putting on a brave facade, Tommy turns to his left and points at the chalk board behind him. "This week's specials are seasonal coffees and hot chocolates, if you'd like to try one of those versus our regular selection," the words that waver slightly are well recited to Tommy, however, the hand that sneakily unclips and hides his nametag in his red apron pocket isn't. Yet, Tommy's plan works as Wilbur doesn't seem to notice Tommy's nerves or suddenly missing identification (if he even saw that in the first place).

 A moment of silence before Wilbur answers, "I'll just take a black eye coffee, please."

 Tommy nods, turning back to face Wilbur. "All right. That will be four dollars. Your order number is fourteen."

 Wilbur nods, pulls out his wallet, and hands Tommy a five. Tommy opens the cash register and hands Wilbur his change before the man goes and sits at a table for two by the window. Once his brother is away, Tommy lets out a rattled breath that he didn't realize had had been holding.

 "You're okay. You're safe," Tommy whispers quietly to himself as he begins preparing Wilbur's drink. The movements are calming and familiar. They help Tommy calm down. "Tubbo is in the back with everyone else. Nothing can happen."

 Little by little, the tension in Tommy's shoulders lessen, his breathing becomes easier, and the panic that was previously racing through his mind and body like adrenaline has dulled to background noise. Tommy finds himself humming along to the simple tunes playing softly through the cafe. Sometimes with Tubbo, Tommy makes the smooth and tranquil melodies into harsher more badass anthems. Occasionally Charlie joins in with his own bizarre beats.

 "Order for number fourteen," Tommy calls out, less nervous than before but still slightly on edge as Wilbur walks back up to the counter.

 "Thank you," Wilbur tells Tommy when he grabs the beverage of pure caffeine.

 The instant Wilbur's eyes meet Tommy's, Tommy knows he's fucked. Wilbur's red eyes widen in surprise and the glint Tommy is used to returns to them. A smile that looks like it's supposed to be a happy one appears on Wilbur's face, but Tommy knows that it's really a plotting one. Fuck.

 "Tommy!" Wilbur exclaims, and this time, Tommy flinches.

 Surprisingly, Wilbur walks around to the entrance to get behind the counter, goes through it, and tries to fucking hug Tommy. Well, he doesn't try, he succeeds. Tommy is too shocked and frozen to do anything to avoid the arm that slings around his shoulders and pulls him into a one-sided embrace with his older brother (if Tommy can really call him that anymore). The touch sends pin pricks into Tommy's shoulders and through his body. Tommy shivers and takes a shaky breath.

 "I didn't recognize you at first, Tommy!" Funny, Tommy thinks, I recognized you immediately. "Aw, my little brother's all grown up," Wilbur says all of this as if he's making friendly conversation with an actual sibling and not one that he abused then abandoned with another abuser years ago. It makes Tommy wants to gag.

 As if he sensed Tommy's extreme discomfort, Tubbo appears in the doorway from the back area of the cafe. He sees what's happening, more so who's with Tommy, and his eyes widen.

 "Hey," Tubbo calls out as he comes forward behind the counter, "customers aren't allowed to be back here."

 "Oh, it's okay," Wilbur says as if he has the right to. Prime does this man infuriate Tommy. "I'm Tommy's brother."

 Now, Tommy has admitted all of his trauma to Tubbo. Tubbo helps Tommy cope and lets him rant whenever shit is too much for Tommy. So Tubbo knows practically everything about Wilbur from his pretentious looks to his terrible treatment. Tubbo especially knows how much Tommy hates Wilbur. That's why Tommy knows he can trust Tubbo to help him get out of this very uncomfortable situation and stop the imminent panic attack that is going to happen sooner than later.

 That's why Tubbo delivers.

 Tubbo storms up to Wilbur and pushes his arm off of Tommy. Tubbo gently takes Tommy by the hand and moves him behind Tubbo. Tubbo's bee wings flare out a little so as to block Tommy from view despite being translucent.

 "What the fuck!" Wilbur exclaims stepping forward, but Tubbo steps in his way, further blocking Tommy from Wilbur. His wings stretch out a little further, meanwhile, Wilbur's pointed tail lashes from side to side, a tell-tale (get it, haha, Tommy's hilarious) sign Wilbur's pissed.

 "Tommy doesn't have a brother," Tubbo states with so much confidence it seems to surprise Wilbur. "And if you don't leave now, I will call the manager."

 Wilbur glares at Tubbo, and Tommy flinches at the intensity of it. "See you later, Tommy," Wilbur says between clenched teeth.

 And with that, Wilbur leaves the cafe. Instead of focusing on the troubling words Wilbur departed with, Tommy lets himself collapse to the floor, all of his strength giving out.

 "Tommy!" Tubbo exclaims as he barely catches Tommy before he crashes onto his knees. "Are you okay?"

 "Of course, big man," Tommy says weakly. "Just need to sit down."

 Tubbo nods and helps Tommy walk to the break room. Tommy protests since no one will be managing the counter, but Tubbo explains that someone can cover Tommy's shift in a minute.

 When Tommy and Tubbo arrive in the break room, everything evolves into chaos. Usually, Tommy thrives on chaos (a demon hybrid thing), but he's a bit self-conscious when it centers around him. Both Quackity and Foolish jump up from where they were sitting on one of the two nice couches and rush over to Tommy who looks like he just made it out of a battle or some shit with how limp his body is. Charlie, hearing the worried commotion, comes out of the storage room where he was doing inventory and helps usher Tommy to the now vacated couch for him to lie down on.

 Once Tommy's comfortable and everyone sees that he did indeed not break a leg or some shit, Quackity asks Tommy the important question. "What happened?"

 Quackity is Tommy's boss, the manager of Las Nevadas Cafe, and yet the man isn't too much older than Tommy and the rest of his employees. That doesn't make him any less of a good businessman. Yet, despite his position over them all. Quackity treats his employees with respect and acts like an ordinary cafe worker himself, taking shifts when someone can't make it, and not being a self-absorbed entrepreneur. Still, Tommy is never fully used to the raw concern Quackity and the rest of his Las Nevadas coworkers show him. It wasn't something that was directed towards Tommy for most of his life. Quackity sees that, as he usually does, and gives Tommy a reassuring smile.

 Tommy anxiously fidgets with his fingers. "Um, my brother showed up," when everyone gives Tommy a confused look, Tommy continues. "His name is Wilbur, and I haven't seen him in three years. He left when he turned eighteen. We, uh, didn't have the best relationship. But Tubbo made him go away."

 Everyone is silent, and Tommy can practically taste the curiosity and concern in the air. Other that Tubbo, none of them knew Tommy had a brother, let alone one that wasn't the best.

 "I'm so sorry, Tommy," Quackity says.

 Tommy gives him a strained smile. "It's okay, Big Q."

 "No it's not," Foolish pipes up. Charlie nods his head vigorously, bits of green slime dripping off of his hair or flinging around the room.

 "They're right, Tommy," Quackity says a little sadly. His yellow duck wings ruffle behind him, a sign that Quackity once explained means that he's distressed. "We'll make sure he doesn't come back or that he doesn't see you," Quackity promises.

 Tommy holds back his retort of "You have no control over that," and simply nods. 

 Quackity gives another smile, this one smaller than the first. "Now," Quackity says clapping his hands, "Foolish, can you take over Tommy's shift?" Tommy opens his mouth to protest, but Quackity's words beat his own, "You're going on break early, Tommy. You can have your shift back at the usual time you would. Is that okay Foolish?"

 "Yeah, been meaning to clean the coffee machine anyway," Foolish says before leaving the break room to man the counter.

 "Great. Charlie, go back to inventory, and Tubbo, can you stay here with Tommy? I need to do some work, too," the way Quackity asks and tells people what to do doesn't sound forceful; they actually have a choice in what they can do. Another way Quackity is the best boss.

 "Of course, boss man," Tubbo says, plopping down obnoxiously on the couch across from the one Tommy lies on. Quackity nods and exits the break room alongside Charlie with a wave. Charlie waves too, but more excitedly, flinging more bits of smile around. Tommy doesn't worry though, they decompose after an hour or so.

 There's a few moment of comfortable silence between Tommy and his best friend before Tubbo inevitably asks the question Tommy has been trying to avoid.

 "What do you think Wilbur meant by see you later?"

 Tommy shrugs, a rock sinking in his gut. "I don't know. I just hope I don't."

 "I'm sorry, Tommy," Tubbo says softly.

 Tommy looks at Tubbo, at the sadness and guilt across the bee hybrid's face. "For what?"

 "For Wilbur coming back. I'm not saying it was my fault," Tubbo jokes, "but I'm sorry he came back."

 Tommy chuckles. "Yeah. Maybe he's better now, though," Tommy knows he's grasping at straws so slim they'll slide right out of his grasp, but can't a teen hope? Yes, but that doesn't mean it's true.

 "Maybe," Tubbo says hopeful, but Tommy knows that Tubbo knows that it isn't true. Both of them saw the look in Wilbur's eyes, the smile. There was nothing different about Tommy's brother other than his age and annoying ass looks.

 "Maybe," Tommy repeats. Maybe, just maybe... please maybe.

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 Tommy leaves work at six that night like he always does on his weekend shifts. Quackity and the rest of Tommy's coworkers were worried about him still even though the Wilbur incident of that morning had happened hours ago, but Tubbo manages to calm their nerves by promising to walk Tommy halfway to his house. Everyone knows full well that this is what the two of them do after every one of their shifts, but the reassurances helps soothes Quackity, Foolish, and Charlie's concern.

 Tommy's house is a thirty minute walk from the cafe, a pretty good distance, honestly, while Tubbo's is twenty-five minutes. They walk together in the direction of Tommy's house until Tubbo has to take a turn at an intersection that leads to his street. Tonight, as Tommy and Tubbo separate, Tubbo hugs Tommy for just a little longer than usual. Typically, this would make Tommy feel more supported and loved, a feeling he doesn't often get from people other than Tubbo and his coworkers, but it only served to amplify the dread sitting heavily at the bottom of Tommy's gut. When Tubbo left and crossed the street, Tommy felt the cold of the autumn night seeping in through his thrift store jacket, shivers of something more than cold biting into Tommy's skin and running down his spine. He wishes Tubbo was with him to get through whatever Tommy knew was coming.

 But Tommy could never have expected this to be the hell that awaited him. He never thought he'd be walking down the street, finishing the ten minutes it takes to get to Dream's house, when Wilbur of all fucking people sides up next to him and strolls casually beside him. Hands tucked into a brown trench coat, posture relaxed, and lit cigarette dangling from his lips like the absolute prick that he is, Wilbur looks unaffected by suddenly appearing out of nowhere and walking beside his brother who he abandoned and abused. Tommy is freaking the fuck out, but he doesn't show it. He already had one panic attack today, he doesn't need to have another one.

 Was Wilbur waiting for Tommy? Was he following him this whole time? Did he see Tubbo? Questions whirl around Tommy's mind, but he simply levels a glare at Wilbur, turning his panic and confusion into anger.

 "What the fuck are you doing here?" Tommy asks bitterly, hoping his words don't sound as meek to Wilbur as they do to him.

 Wilbur raises an eyebrow and looks at Tommy with an amused yet malevolent glint in his eyes, as if he knows something Tommy doesn't. "What do you mean? Can't an older brother walk his kid brother home from work?" he questions with fake innocence.

 "Not when you've been gone for three years," Tommy states bluntly, not mentioning all the other reasons why Wilbur shouldn't even be this fucking close to Tommy right now. Tommy ignores the way his skin crawls at the close vicinity between them and the smoke wafting from the brunette's cigarette.

 Wilbur shrugs, as if abandoning Tommy like their parents is nothing more than a habit like his smoking. "Well I'm back now. Plus, I'm a little lost in this new city. Waiting for you seemed like the easiest plan."

 "You could have used your GPS, dumbass. I don't need a fucking stalker," Tommy says, trying not to flinch when Wilbur sends a sharp look at Tommy. 

 "Just shut up, Tommy," Wilbur snaps, and Tommy immediately and unwillingly complies, experience telling him to do what Wilbur says to avoid punishment. "We're going to the same place anyway."

 The world around Tommy freezes, everything going still and the lingering cold washing over him like a freezing shower. Tommy's heart beats loudly in his chest, echoing into his ears and drowning out anything else Tommy could possibly hear. Tommy's pointed tail wraps around his leg tightly, being the only thing remotely tethering Tommy to reality.

 Wilbur cannot be going to Dream's house. Not again, never again. Tommy won't be able to deal with them both. He can't. Why now? Why is Wilbur back now?! Tommy is so close to escaping, he's only a matter of a few months away from aging out of the system, from leaving Dream behind. Why did Wilbur have to show up now and ruin Tommy's life again?!

 A searing all familiar touch wraps around Tommy's arm and yanks him into motion again. Bile rises in Tommy's throat, burning just like Wilbur's hand gripped around him. Of course Wilbur isn't actually burning him for once, but the touch is synonymous with pain and betrayal. Wilbur harshly tugs Tommy back into walking, not caring or realizing that he's just tilted Tommy's world on its axis. Tommy tears his arm away, and for likely the last time, Tommy gets away with only a scornful look. He knows the next time he pisses Wilbur off, he'll feel the abuse he hasn't experienced in three years.

 That's where Wilbur and Dream are different. Dream uses his fists, his claws, whatever he can get his hands on to beat Tommy. Wilbur uses his words laced with poison and dripping with venom, stinging and spreading straight to Tommy's heart. 

 And while Tommy may be older than he was three years ago, gone through more shit than he or any other teenager should have in a high school career, Tommy cannot handle being in the same house as the two of them again. He knows for absolute one hundred percent fucking certain that if Wilbur has changed as much as Tommy expects he didn't, his hellhole of a life is only going to get infinitely worse. Again.

- - - - -

 Dream's house is nothing special. Just another one of the drab two story houses that line the streets, the blocks, and most of Lodgestire. While Lodgestire is in better condition than Pogtopia was, it's not by much. Funding doesn't make it out to the suburbs as much as it does to the downtown and more tourist heavy parts of the city. So there are weeds and cracks in the sidewalks, lawns are contained by rotting wood or rusting chain link fences, and houses may be put together, but they are all faded and dull colors, creating a monotone mood that sometimes blends in with the rainy sky. 

 It fits Tommy's life perfectly.

 After a walk that was entirely too quiet and uncomfortable with Wilbur, he and Tommy arrive at Dream's house. Tommy doesn't know what Wilbur thinks of the house, of this new life he was never a part of, as they walk through the wooden gate, nor does he care. Tommy hasn't cared about what Wilbur thinks in a long long while. After Tommy crosses the small front yard, walks up the porch steps, and approaches the door, he reaches into his pocket for his keys. However, he pauses as the front door surprisingly opens, revealing none other than his foster father. Tommy stands there stunned as Dream opens the door wide, smiles past Tommy, and opens his arms for a hug that Wilbur walks past Tommy to return, bending over to embrace Dream comfortably with his lanky height. Dream isn't usually home yet, as even on the weekends he gets off work at seven and gets home soon after that. And the hug... Tommy can't remember the last time he received a hug from either of the people who supposed to be his family.

 Pulling back from the embrace, Dream's smile fades as his gaze lands on Tommy. "Go cook dinner, Tommy," Dream orders sternly, and Tommy hastily nods and rushes inside. While he may have gotten away with the few bites he made at Wilbur on the walk, that brief mercy is gone now that Dream is here, and Tommy is in the worst place with the worst people he could possibly be.

 As Tommy goes to the kitchen and starts making a pork chop and vegetables that were in the fridge, Dream guides Wilbur to the dining room where they sit at the table that has always had three chairs even though it was only ever the two of them living here without any guests. Now that Tommy thinks about it, Wilbur is the first ever guest Dream has hosted in the past three years. He's never invited over work partners or colleagues or any friends Dream may have. Tommy, of course, has never even introduced Dream to Tubbo. He fears what will happen if he ever does.

 Distantly, over the sizzle of meat cooking on the skillet and the chopping of green beans and peppers, Tommy can hear the two of them talking, likely catching up on time passed. When did they become buddy buddy? Did their shared interest of ruining Tommy's life bring the two of them closer together? Tommy throws the chopped vegetables onto the pan with the pork chop, sprinkling salt and pepper over them as they too begin to sizzle. He hadn't even known Dream had been in contact with Wilbur. Did Wilbur leave Dream his number when he left? He must have unless Wilbur was the one to reach out. Tommy shakes his head. He knows his questions will go unanswered, and he'll only spiral more if he lets them run rampant through his mind. Tommy needs to focus on surviving, because that's what his life is, has been for the past eight years since his life went downhill. Oh and dinner, Tommy needs to focus on not burning the dinner.

 He flips the pork chop over so it starts cooking on its other side. With that, he grabs plates and forks, setting them aside on the counter, and gets cups that he fills with water from the fridge since the tap is sometimes a little rusty. A couple minutes later, Tommy cuts the pork chop and dishes out the vegetables and meat evenly among two of the plates. He gives himself a little less because some of his appetite has been lost, rightfully so with the dramatic turn his life has taken in the past few hours and especially the past thirty minutes. Plus, Dream always gets mad at Tommy when he gives himself a more generous serving. Always something about how Tommy is selfish and needs to think of others before himself. Or he already eats too much, he needs to slow down otherwise he'll become even more unhealthy.

 Carefully, Tommy carries out Dream and Wilbur's plates, setting them on the table before going back to the kitchen to grab his own. Reluctantly, Tommy sits down at the empty spot at the table, wanting with all his heart to be anywhere else in the world right now. Neither Dream nor Wilbur thank Tommy for the food, which he wasn't expecting. 

 The dinner is silent and awkward, with only the sounds of the clinking of forks on the plates echoing in the small dining room. Tommy can practically feel the tension radiating around them. He makes no effort to try and make conversation, rather content to stay silent and drift into the background.

 Of course, Wilbur has to ruin that plan. As always.

 "So Tommy, you're almost done with high school, right?" Wilbur asks as he swallows a bite of vegetables.

 Tommy nods quietly, hating how the attention in the room has suddenly swiveled to him.

 "What are you going to do for college?" Wilbur continues before stabbing his pork chop.

 Tommy hesitates. "I uh, was planning on enlisting, actually," he admits.

 Wilbur seems slightly surprised but hides it well. "Really?" he scoffs lightly. "With those wimpy arms?" Dream chuckles at Wilbur's taunt.

 Tommy scowls slightly but doesn't argue. He knows that won't end well. 

 "How noble of you, finally doing something for others," Wilbur jabs as he takes a drink from his glass of water. Tommy fumes at that, clenching his fists in his lap and barely holding back from lashing out. His tail curls around the chair leg tightly.

 "What have you been up to, Wilbur?" Tommy asks through gritted teeth, trying to change the conversation. And no, he's not just doing it because he's curious about what his brother has been doing these past few years.

 Wilbur smirks, and oh how Tommy hates that look. "I've been great, Tommy, thank you for asking. I traveled to L'Manberg, went to community college, met some people, played more music and made a living off of it. Made some good friends. Feels nice to finally be on my own."

 Dream nods in agreement. "Freedom is a right. It's one of the reasons I haven't adopted Tommy yet."

 While Tommy struggles to wrap his head around the logic in Dream's statement, a conflicted look of something crosses Wilbur's face. However, as quickly as it was there, it's gone. "I thought you would've adopted Tommy by now," he says.

 Dream shrugs. "Why would I want to have him as my actual child?"

 Such a simple declaration stings Tommy more than he'd like to admit. He knows Dream doesn't really care for him, never really has since he first turned a blind eye to Wilbur's mistreatment towards young Tommy. But it just shows Tommy how unloved he is, even by someone who has been keeping him around solely for his own sadistic pleasure.

 "Tommy, go get the guest room ready for Wilbur, will you. He'll be staying with us for a while," Dream orders Tommy, abruptly switching the topic of conversation.

 Tommy nods silently and stands up from the table, leaving most of his food untouched. He goes upstairs, grabs sheets, pillows, and a blanket from the linen cupboard and brings them to the empty guest room. It's never been used before, so it's acquired a couple layers of dust, as well as some boxes filled with unused towels, dishes, and knickknacks. As Tommy makes the bed, he tries not to focus on the conversation from dinner, instead distracting himself by straining to hear the two men talking downstairs. He can't, of course, but he tries anyway. When he hears the unmistakable clink of silverware on porcelain, he knows that dinner is officially over. His stomach barely misses the food he didn't get to finish. He lost his appetite.

 As Tommy leaves the guest room, he nearly walks into Wilbur who enters with a bag Tommy hadn't seen before. Wilbur smirks down at him. "This is going to be a fun couple of weeks," he taunts. Tommy levels a glare at Wilbur who merely shoves Tommy the rest of the way out of the guest room before closing the door behind him. Tommy clenches his fists and scowls. He hates this. All of this. 

 With a ruined day and attitude, Tommy stalks to his room, not bothering to go back downstairs. He bets Dream already cleaned up is plate, likely waiting to hold it over Tommy's head in the morning. Tommy walks to his small bedroom and closes the door behind him. He doesn't bother to change out of his clothes from work before he flops down on his bed, exhaustion weighing down heavily on him. Tommy thinks that he deserves one night of not brushing his teeth or sleeping in jeans, even though he knows he'll regret both of those choices in the morning. 

 Lost to his fatigue and the weight of Wilbur's return, Tommy quickly succumbs to a mercifully dreamless sleep.