Chapter Text
Tommy woke up cold as fuck, like he did most winter days. There was a groggy moment where he struggled to figure out which of the limbs he was feeling were his, and which were Tubbo and Ranboo’s. Eventually he peeled his eyes open, realized there was definitely only one other body in the bed, and peered over the edge.
Tubbo was splayed out on the floor, one blanket over his head, the rest of him exposed to the chilly air. He was shivering slightly. Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad.
“Fuckin’ hell, Toby,” he muttered to the heap that was Tubbo. “How did you not wake up?”
Tubbo groaned.
Tommy rolled over to Ranboo, who had woken up and was blinking at Tommy. He was the lightest sleeper Tommy had ever met.
“Is Tubbo on the floor?” he asked, not seeming very shocked.
“Took one of the fuckin’ blankets with him, too,” Tommy grumbled, before practically throwing himself into a sitting position. In the morning, his movements had to be excessive, or they didn’t happen at all. Momentum, he’d told his friends. Speed.
His necklace thumped against his skin under his shirt. Somehow, it was warm.
“I’ll go see what we have to eat,” Tommy told the room as a whole, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He nearly stepped on Tubbo, who made a loud, displeased noise.
“Five more minutes,” he yelled. “Five more fucking minutes!”
Tommy kicked him lightly before stepping over.
“You two have to get groceries today,” Tommy said. “Stop being a lazy bastard. And I’m gonna start tying you and Ranboo together so you quit fallin’ off the bed.”
“Now, hang on,” Ranboo cut in. “He’ll make me fall, too.”
“Going down with me, bossman,” Tubbo said.
“You both make living here hell,” Ranboo said.
“Yeah, yeah.” Tommy thumped his knuckles against the doorframe as he left the room, leaving his friends to their slow morning routines.
Truthfully, living in their apartment would be hell no matter who it was with.
It was a shithole.
That was being kind.
On the days they were lucky enough to get heating and electricity and water, they capitalized, filling empty gallons with water to store in their fridge that sometimes worked and taking quick showers while they had hot water. The furniture was ratty and stained; their blankets and clothes thin and worn. They all worked as much as they could. One of the blessings of living in the city was that they didn’t need to know how to drive.
Ranboo claimed he could drive just fine, but Tommy and Tubbo didn’t believe him.
Tommy had a granola bar, took a cold shower, and cleaned up the living room a bit. They’d all slept in, because none of them had taken morning shifts, so by the time he dropped down onto the couch with Ranboo and Tubbo it was almost eleven. They passed the time reading and playing games and watching movies. Tommy knew it was medieval, but they used DVDs, because cable was fucking expensive. At one thirty, Tommy left for work.
The day was bright and warm. The bakery looked busy, and so Tommy used the back entrance to avoid all the customers.
Niki was in the kitchen, which doubled as their break room, kneading dough. When she looked up and saw him, she smiled.
“Tommy,” she greeted warmly. “How’re you doing?”
Tommy shrugged, dropping his bag onto an empty table.
“Well enough,” he said, and when Niki smiled at him again, he couldn’t help but smile back. “Hi, Niki.”
Jack was working the counter, and seemingly having a shit job of it. When Tommy went out and tapped him on the shoulder, he gave a mighty sigh of relief.
“Tommy,” he said. “Thank god.”
“Manifold.” Tommy nodded, holding his hands out for the apron. “You’re looking bald as ever.”
“Oi, fuck off. At least I don’t look like I was born yesterday.”
“You’re so original, Jack.”
Jack shoved him towards the counter.
“Get to work, asshole. Let’s get coffee sometime.”
Jack left Tommy to work the counter, the back door swinging closed quietly behind him. Tommy settled himself in front of the register, smiling at the customer waiting for him. She wanted a chocolate croissant, and the next person wanted coffee, and the next wanted a muffin. On and on it went, and Tommy fell into the rhythm of it gratefully.
As it got later, less and less people stopped in. Tommy got off at nine, but the shop closed at eight. At seven, Niki came out and kissed his cheek goodbye. By seven thirty, it was just Tommy and a family of three, who were all eating very sugary pastries near the windows.
He closed up. Mopped. Finished cleaning up the kitchen. Moved the cash from the register to a safe in the back.
Most days passed like that. Monotonous. Tiring.
At the end of the shift, once he’d gotten everything in place, he stood in front of the register in the dark bakery and wondered if he’d ever feel alive.
He pushed the thoughts away with a quiet scoff and locked the front door. Niki had left him a sandwich and a muffin in the back, and he snatched it up on his way out. She took care of him without even mentioning it sometimes. Whether it was pity or kindness, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t the kind of person to pass up free food.
The alley outside was dark. This part of the city was quiet at night. Eerie, if he gave it too much thought.
It had been a bit since he’d worked a night shift, and the lock was difficult. He fought with his key, grunting a bit in frustration, trying to remember which way he was supposed to wiggle it to come free.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Tommy muttered to himself.
From behind him, there was a chuckle.
Tommy whirled around, key forgotten, his hands going to press flat against the door. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark, and he frantically glared into the shadows of the alley.
“Who’s there?” he asked, as if that wasn’t asking to be murdered. “Don’t be a pussy, show yourself.”
He was speaking with a lot more bravado than he had.
That chuckle again.
“The fuck are you playing at?” Tommy sincerely wished he had some sort of way to defend himself.
Just as Tommy was about to turn tails and run- fuck the key still stuck in the lock- a figure emerged from the shadows. He was tall; broad shoulders, lazy gait. When his face came into view, half of Tommy’s fear evaporated into bafflement.
Instead of a face, the man wore a white mask, painted with a smiley face.
“Having some trouble?” he asked. His voice was smooth and friendly. Tommy didn’t believe it for a second.
“I’m fuckin’ fine, mate,” Tommy said. “You’re being a right creep.”
“I am sorry to scare you,” the man said. “Really.”
“Okay.” Tommy fumbled behind his back for the key. “Leave me alone, then.”
The man tipped his head.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He raised both hands up placatingly. As if apologizing for being the most menacing fucker Tommy had ever met. “I think you have something I want.”
Tommy blinked.
And then found himself laughing.
“Are you trying to- are you trying to fucking mug me?” He wheezed, because the prospect was ridiculous. “Mate, I’ve got nothing for you to steal. Sorry, but you’d have better luck with someone else.”
As Tommy’s laughter died off, the man just stood there. Tommy could feel his eyes, somehow.
His stare was starting to burn.
“Dude,” Tommy said, this time more serious. “I’m broke. There’s nothing of value on me right now.”
“I’m not mugging you, Tommy.”
Tommy went still against the door.
“How do you-“
“I was trying to be polite,” the man continued, pacing forward. “I was trying to be civil. But if you’re going to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about-“
“Because I don’t!” Tommy interrupted. “I’ve got nothing you could possibly want, asshole!”
The man slammed a fist into the door next to Tommy’s head and hissed, “Don’t fucking bullshit me, Tommy. I know you have it.”
“How do you know my name?” Tommy questioned desperately, shrinking away.
His heart was pounding loud enough that he could hear it, and he could feel his brain flying away from him, wings beating with panicked fervor. He would kick the man in the dick and run. He could punch for the mask and kick at the same time and get the fuck out.
“Where is it?” the man asked.
Okay, Tommy thought. Now’s my chan-
“Dream!” a voice rang through the alley. “The fuck’s going on back here?”
The man- Dream- seemed to sigh, before carefully stepping away from Tommy. As he did, another man made his way into the alley, a trench coat sweeping behind him. Tommy didn’t know whether to feel relieved. He didn’t know if this person would be his savior or his demise.
“I don’t see,” Dream said, “how that’s any of your business.”
The man came fully into view. His eyes jumped to Tommy, scanning and assessing. His hair fell across his forehead in a messy tumble.
“Both of you should fuck off,” Tomm spat, finally yanking the key free and jamming it into his pocket.
Truthfully, Tommy was fucking confused. He was scared and angry and tired and hungry and he wanted to eat the food Niki had given him and he wanted to curl up on his shit couch with his friends and watch Ratatouille til he was fucking sick of it.
The newcomer just took another step forward.
“This isn’t a fight you want to pick, Dream,” he said, ignoring Tommy. “You know I come as a pair.”
Dream went still.
“I don’t see him here,” Dream said quietly.
The man chuckled. Not cold like Dream’s, but just as smooth. Powerful. These men were powerful.
“But he’s never far behind, is he?”
“And what if you’re bluffing, Wilbur?” One of Dream’s hands rose, fingers tapping at the air like he was plucking strings. “What if you’re lying to me?”
Wilbur- shit name, if you asked Tommy- just shrugged.
“Then that had better be a chance you’re willing to take.”
The alley was quiet.
At last, Dream asked, “Why do you care?”
Wilbur, again, shrugged.
“Maybe I just like ruining your day.”
Dream shook his head once, sharply, and then looked to Tommy. Once more, his stare was like a flame, eating straight through Tommy’s head. It was fucking unnerving. But Tommy flipped him off, scowling with every inch of himself. After a beat, Dream sighed and turned and disappeared into the shadows of the alley, gone like he’d never been. It was like encountering a ghost. The devil.
Tommy sagged back against the door, metal cool and slick with cold against his back.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered.
And then he remembered the man.
Straightening back up, Tommy turned to the person who’d saved him. Wilbur. He was watching Tommy with that cool stare, almost like he was waiting for something.
“Well?” Tommy prompted. “Can I fucking help you?”
Okay. He considered that maybe he should dial back the aggression.
(It was just that he really hated everyone, and he didn’t know if he could trust Wilbur, because he was still a strange man in a dark alley at night and that was fucking weird, so fuck being nice.)
Wilbur, at last, gave a small laugh.
“I don’t think I’ve never seen anyone tell Dream to fuck off,” he said. “Especially not some random kid.”
“Not a kid, you dickhead.” Tommy scowled. “Who was that guy, anyway? Who are you?”
“That was Dream,” Wilbur said. “He’s a very powerful man. And I’ll admit, I’m a bit curious as to what he wants with you.”
“Kept going on about me having something he wants. It was weird.”
Wilbur hummed consideringly.
“And he didn’t tell you what it was?”
Tommy shook his head.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Tommy pushed. “Who are you? Like, thanks for helping me, obviously, but why did you do it? Why should I trust you?”
“I never said you should trust me,” Wilbur replied with a small smile. “I’m Wilbur. I don’t take kindly to grown men being creepy fucks to children.”
“Are you like Dream?” Tommy asked. “Are you powerful?”
Wilbur tipped his head, just a bit.
Then, he shook it.
“No,” he said. “I’m no one you need to worry about.” He was quiet as Tommy took a few breaths, then he asked, “What’s your name?”
Tommy considered the stranger. His smile like a secret; his warm voice and sharp eyes.
Against his chest, it was almost like he felt the necklace pulse with warmth.
Tommy was not superstitious, but it had done this once before. Like it was telling him, We’re safe. We’re okay. He remembered his mother’s hands, clasping the necklace behind his neck. He considered Wilbur, and then said, “I’m Tommy.”
Wilbur’s smile spread, just a bit.
“Well, Tommy. It’s good to meet you.”
Tommy nodded. Fidgeted with his hands. He wanted to go home. Wilbur squinted at him.
“You’re sure you’re okay? Dream didn’t hurt you?”
“No,” Tommy scoffed. “He couldn’t hurt me. Seemed like a pussy- couldn’t even show his face. I bet I could take him in a fight.”
Wilbur laughed, and the sound was much different from earlier. Tommy was a bit taken aback. This laugh was loud and careless and- and fun. Tommy hadn’t heard a laugh like that in years.
“I don’t know, man,” Wilbur said. “You don’t look all that strong.”
“Hey!” Tommy stuck his middle finger up on instinct. “I’ll fight you too, prick.”
That laugh again. God, this night was fucking wild. Tommy was going to go home and sleep for a week. He wondered if Niki would give him a day off if she knew he’d almost been mugged outside the store. He wondered if Wilbur was who he said he was.
After a few seconds of considerably awkward silence, Wilbur sighed and waved Tommy forward, turning to leave the alley. Hesitantly, Tommy followed.
“Let me walk you home,” Wilbur said. “Just in case he shows up again.”
“I told you,” Tommy said. “I’d beat the shit out of him.”
“I’m sure you would,” Wilbur agreed placatingly. “Given that you’re huge and terrifying and strong. Which way to your place?”
Tommy narrowed his eyes, and then said, “You’re making fun of me.”
“Me?” Wilbur looked affronted. “No. Never. Let’s go before someone tries to mug you again.”
Tommy grumbled, but led the way. Wilbur fell into step with him, hands in his pockets. He was very mild, Tommy thought. His face as they walked was calm and friendly; open. Tommy kept glancing over out of the corner of his eye, trying to get a read on the man who’d chased off Tommy’s almost-assailant.
This isn’t a fight you want to pick, Dream, he’d said. You know I come as a pair.
“What did you mean?” Tommy began suddenly. Wilbur turned to look at him, mouth set inquiringly. “When you said you come as a pair?”
“Ah,” Wilbur breathed out a laugh, his face lifting into a fond smile. “Yes, that. Erm- I told you that Dream has a bit of a reputation, yes?” Tommy nodded, and Wilbur rubbed the back of his neck. “My brother does too. They don’t like each other much. He and I aren’t normally far from each other’s sight, and Dream knows that.”
Tommy found it so, so odd that it took one mention of Wilbur’s brother to turn him into a grinning sap. Tommy wondered if that was how he looked when he talked about Tubbo and Ranboo.
“So where is he then?” Tommy asked.
Wilbur waved a hand.
“Nowhere important. If Dream had called my bluff, that probably would have gone a lot worse.”
They came up to the apartment complex, dark and badly lit. Tommy had never been ashamed of his living situation, and he wasn’t going to start now. He waited for Wilbur to ask him about it, or make a comment, or offer help. Instead, Wilbur swept his eyes over the place for a quick second, then just looked back to Tommy and offered a kind smile.
“Do I leave you now?”
Tommy nodded, and his next words came as a bit of a surprise to him.
“Thank you,” he said. “For helping. You didn’t have to.”
“No worries.” He waved a modest hand. “I’d offer to get you coffee or something to make up for the shit night, but it’s already nine-thirty.”
“‘S alright,” Tommy said. “Coffee’s shit anyways.”
Wilbur’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
“Take that back,” he said.
Tommy crossed his arms and stuck his nose in the air.
“What’re you gonna do about it?” he taunted. “I could have died tonight. You gonna fight the traumatized kid? That’s fucked up, Wilbur.”
Wilbur glared at him, and Tommy couldn’t help but laugh. He had an expressive face. He was weird and mysterious and taller than Tommy- which was dreadful- but he was fun. He was kind. Tommy thought that he wouldn’t even mind getting coffee with Wilbur.
But Tommy looked back to the apartment building, and thought about Ranboo and Tubbo, who would probably be home from work soon enough.
“I should get going,” he said, pointing a thumb to the apartments. “It was good walking with you, mate.”
“You too, Tommy.” The words were warm. Wilbur gave a little wave. “Goodnight.”
Tommy saluted.
“Night.”
Later, Tommy would collapse into the bed, the first one home, and he would stare up at the ceiling. He wished for his friends to come and curl around him and make the world right again. He wished for his mother’s arms. He wished he’d gotten a coffee with Wilbur. He wished he could get sleep that wasn’t fitful.
He brushed his fingers over the necklace, as if to ask it, Will I be happy soon?
Because it was a necklace, there was no response.
He fell asleep and dreamed about a white mask, patient and smiling.
Tommy was pretty sure he hadn’t believed in magic when he was a kid.
He found himself in the foster system pretty damn quick. His father left, and his mother couldn’t support them financially. One night- he’d been six-, he was woken up by a scream, and then heat at his door, and then sirens. The apartment was gone by the time Tommy realized his mother was too. He’d managed to keep only one thing, and that was a necklace; gold chain, sparkling ruby. She’d given it to him a few nights before because he’d had trouble sleeping, and he’d always loved the necklace. He remembered adults holding him outside of an apartment slowly falling into ashes and whispering, It’s a miracle he lived, it’s a goddamn motherfucking miracle.
So Tommy was left orphaned. Yip-fucking-hee. The first four years in the system passed in a terrible blur, and then Tommy started trying to run away.
He never got very far.
Still, at fifteen, he finally got himself out and took two boys with him. They escaped through a second story window, hopping down the building using ledges and cracks in the bricks. When they hit the ground outside, breathless, they all looked at each other and laughed. Tommy had felt the necklace flare against his skin, a comfort and a promise.
They fell together like dominos. Three wild animals, scared and hungry, brought together by circumstance. Partners, at first. Then friends.
Together, they made themselves something close to a home.
Tommy didn’t believe in magic, no. But he believed that some things were like magic- family, luck, kindness-, and that was good enough for him.