Chapter Text
The days feel like they are a bit pointless. It almost becomes a dance, Techno and Tommy avoid each other and Tommy spends a lot of time with Wilbur.
He doesn't expect to get this attached with Wilbur, especially when he's aware how much he hates vigilantes.
But, Wilbur is surprisingly funny. He once makes Tommy laugh so hard that he spits his drink out all across the bench and then they have to clean that up while laughing so hard they can barely stand.
So… three days are spent laughing with Wilbur.
Tommy also learns something quite important about Wilbur, he's trying to find out who Theseus is. Tommy… does not say jackshit, because he likes being alive.
So he's lying to Wilbur and avoiding the only person who really knows who he is.
Which is great for his mental health. Note the sarcasm.
"Yeah," Wilbur says one morning, eating toast here rather than at his apartment. Tommy is pretty sure Wilbur lives here. "Employees get free old merch, as long as you don't onsell it, you can get the old stuff."
Tommy's eyes go wide. "I can get Philza merch? For free?"
Wilbur nods and crumbs fall onto the counter. For someone who went to some rich ass schools he can't eat toast right.
"What was Phil's money wasted on? You can't even talk fancy."
Wilbur raises an eyebrow, and wipes his hands on his pants. "I can. I just don't need to right now."
"Ten thousand dollars a year," Tommy mutters. "Minus uniforms, books, school trips—"
Wilbur sighs. "I can speak fancy, Phil can too… Techno can't for jackshit, reckon you'll be the same."
Tommy doesn't respond, there is a way that both Tommy and Techno speak that's native to Logsteshire. Dropping some letters, skipping some words. Most people don't notice it, but Tommy can pick out a Logsteshire native like nothing else.
Wilbur and Phil speak like they're from Upper L'Manburg, which they probably are. Tubbo does too, that doesn't mean a lot, it's just a fun detail.
He shrugs.
"Remind me to never bring you to a fancy event." Wilbur sighs and rests his forehead against the counter.
"Oh yeah!" Tommy scrambles for his phone. "You have a charity event to go to, you have a plus one and need to make some sort of speech."
"What charity?" Wilbur groans. Not moving so his voice was slightly muffled by the counter.
"L'Manburg School Relief, basically they give students free tuition so lower socioeconomic areas can afford to go to Upper L'Manburg schools."
Wilbur groans.
Tommy gives him a look.
"What?" Wilbur asks.
"Probably don't be so dismissive of the charity that's putting one of my roommates through school," Tommy deadpans.
To Wilbur's credit, he actually looks sorry he blinks at Tommy for a few moments. His mouth is in an 'O' shape.
Tommy rolls his eyes, "So are you done being a rich dickhead?"
"Yeah… sorry. What school does your roommate go to?"
"Prime Technology and STEM School," Tommy says, like someone who has said it a million times, which isn't wrong. "The charity isn't funded enough, so can only give those scholarships to the best of the best. And he's one of the best."
Wilbur nods, "Tell me about him."
And if there's one thing he can do, it's talk about Tubbo. And so he does.
"Well he's my childhood best friend—"
He talks about the sums that Tommy knew Tubbo could do half asleep, and how that Tubbo would help him get through his own schooling and the projects that Tubbo would get up to in his own time.
Then Tommy keeps talking, he talks about the hacking and doesn't stop when Wilbur gives him a warning look.
He just talks about how cool Tubbo is, and there's something in Wilbur's eyes which is relaxed and fond.
"Don't you have two roommates?" Wilbur asks, an amused tone in his voice.
"Ugh. Ranboob." Tommy screws up his nose. "I hate that bitch."
Wilbur raises an eyebrow, and his expression goes all concerned again.
"It's a meme at this point. My resentment for Ranboo. He's cool," Tommy smiles. "You can't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."
Then he rants about Ranboo, because he loves his friends and if someone is willing to hear. He is more than willing to speak.
Wilbur listens with interest, nodding and laughing whenever Tommy pauses. It's nice.
Tommy finishes and Wilbur is smiling widely and his face has gone all soft and fond.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," Wilbur grins. "I'd love to meet these two, see if they're that cool."
Tommy shrugs.
In his spare time, which there isn't a lot of anymore, he creates his videos for the SBI YouTube channel. He unlists all the old ones, because they're dumb.
Then he reads about the YouTube algorithm. Like… a lot. And he learns how to play it the best he can. He hasn't done anything with this knowledge, it's just in the back of his brain.
Two more days pass with nothing of consequence.
Then something of consequence happens.
Purpled. The bitch is in his building, he's in the foyer talking to Quackity. Leaning against the wall, and looking slightly smug and very confident.
Quackity looks ever so slightly nervous.
"Tommy!" Quackity calls out. "Meet our new employee, Daniel Grey."
Tommy stares at Purpled.
Purpled stares back at him.
Now. Purpled has as many fake identities as Tubbo does, and all of them had solid backgrounds. Even Tubbo couldn't find any holes to poke.
Purpled (Daniel Grey as he's being called right now) smiles, it's fake, and he holds out his hand.
Tommy shakes it. "Nice to meet you— Dan."
"The pleasure's all mine Thomas," Purpled snaps back, in the exact same tone and Tommy stares at him.
Purpled isn't broke, he's made sure of that. He doesn't need the job, which means that Purpled is here for a client.
That very well means that Purpled is willing to get Tommy fired.
Because, yes, Tommy trusts Purples with his life, Purpled was his first friend and the two understand each other in a way that no one else will ever understand the other. But Tommy does not trust Purpled with the tower.
They stare at each other a moment longer.
"Daniel here," Quackity continues, "Is one of the new security guards."
"Oh. Is he now?" Tommy deadpans.
Purpled gives Tommy a look.
Tommy glares a little more.
Quackity looks confused. "Do you two… know each other?"
"Something like that," Purpled says, his voice is still polite, almost pleasant, but his cool expression at Tommy says it all.
Tommy glares, and gets a glare back.
"Can we have a moment?" Purpled asks, his voice laced in false kindness.
Quackity nods and basically sprints off.
Tommy looks around the empty foyer before glaring at Purpled. "What are you doing here? Don't touch my domains, and I don't even look at yours."
Purpled sits down on one of the couches, crossing his legs and grinning lopsidedly. "Tommy."
"Oh fuck off, we made a deal."
"We did."
"Why are you here Dan Grey? And when will you leave."
"I'm here on… personal business," Purpled crosses his arms and Tommy sits down across from Purpled. "I will not touch your heroes, and you will not interfere."
"You're acting weird."
"Just… don't," Purpled sighs and Tommy pulls a face. "In Purpled mode. I'm not gonna mess with your guys. I need personal info."
"What info?" Tommy leans back in his seat. "I might be able to help."
Purpled shakes his head. "I don't want you to."
"Okay."
They're both quiet for a long moment.
Purpled looks at Tommy. "My apartment is quiet."
Tommy tilts his head, trying to think about what this means. Purpled is looking down at his feet.
Then it hits— oh. Purpled just want to feel normal, he wants to be stupid and he wants to be a dumb teenager.
It's valid.
Tommy looks at Purpled and smiles, "Could I interest you in food at my house on the weekend? Meet my roommates?"
"Yeah. I guess you could." Purpled doesn't smile, but he sounds grateful and that's good enough.
Tommy goes back to his office, and he works for a while. That's peaceful enough.
For a while he just does his work, like a good little worker. He doesn’t say much, mostly because there’s no one in there and it doesn’t make sense to speak while you work so why the fuck is he even thinking about it?
Eventually, after a while of editing, he gets bored. Quite bored actually and so he stands up and pokes his head out the door.
Techno’s in the hallway, and Tommy goes to slam the door closed and move to Africa. But he does not see any of those things when he sees that Techno is holding onto the wall with one hand and holding coffee with his other hand.
“Have you… slept?” Tommy asks and Techno looks at him. He doesn’t look very threatening if he’s being quite honest, he looks kinda like an angry animal who’s been dosed in water. Techno blinks at him, not giving anything away with his face.
“Pardon?” He says slowly, like the words take tremendous strain to say.
“Have you slept?” Tommy repeats, actually enunciating this time. “Since I last saw you?”
Techno just makes a grunt, which does not narrow down anything.
Right. Cool then, everyone give a round of applause to Technoblade for being the most fucking useful person in the universe. With all those social cues, there is no way that Tommy can’t know what he means.
Okay. Maybe too much sarcasm.
But Tommy is going to punt Techno into the sun.
Techno starts down the hallway, not too unlike a zombie. Tommy moves out of his office, because he’s not completely sure if Techno will make it down the hallway. He shuffles a bit more, then looks at Tommy.
Then he just fucking… falls.
Like Techno’s legs just went ‘no, not today!’
Tommy makes a noise and jumps to catch him. He does so with a bit of strain, but manages to hold Techno up as he just… snores.
The next thing Tommy realises is the coffee that was in Techno’s hand is now mostly on his shirt, staining it probably beyond fixing and Tommy just wants to clober the sleeping man. He liked this shirt!
Techno snores a bit louder.
“Uh…” Tommy calls out, “Phil!” His voice is a bit desperate and very worried, “Techno passed out.”
There’s muffled swearing, footsteps and Phil standing in the hallway. He looks almost as tired as Techno. “Sorry mate,” Phil mutters and manages to take Techno from him with no struggle.
Phil sighs and shakes his head, it seems directed at Techno. “You fuckin’ idiot,” Phil mutters, and it is so fond, despite the fact that Techno will never hear this. Phil doesn’t need to say that, but he does anyway.
Something about that makes Tommy’s brain stop. Just for a moment.
“Oh. Your shirt,” Phil says and Tommy gives a blank look. “Wilbur!” Phil calls out.
“What?” Wilbur yells back.
“Techno passed out!”
“I heard!”
“Tommy needs a different shirt!” Phil yells again, and somehow Techno doesn’t wake up. He must be fucking exhausted. “Go to the merch closet!”
“But it smells!”
“Wilbur!”
“Fine!”
And that’s how Tommy ends up standing in front of a door as Wilbur mutters under his breath about how he’s a babysitter now, and that he did not go through years of training to just look after a gremlin child.
Wilbur opens the door.
And this is it, this is heaven. Tommy must’ve died.
It’s shelfs and pallets filled with merch. Hero merch. Covering the walls and being the majority of things he saw. There was one shelf which was obviously unreleased merch, and Tommy stumbled towards that first.
“Not supposed to have that—” Wilbur starts, then sighs as Tommy picks up one of the shirts.
It’s a Gogy hoodie, with the signature glasses on the back of it. Across the shoulder blades, on the front is a neat little ‘Glitch’ sewn in cursive on the upper left section of the shirt. It was small, and pretty tasteful.
Tommy would almost feel good wearing this outside. “Gogy!” He exclaims and looks at Wilbur. “Have I told you how awesome Gogy is?”
“That’s not his hero name—” Wilbur tries.
“Glitch,” Tommy scoffs, “Fucking generic, been done before. Don’t remember that for shit. Gogy? Rolls off the tongue, is iconic, easy to market, make the goggles associated with his brand and then. Boom. Done. You’ve branded a hero.”
Wilbur blinks at him, “There’s a reason you’re our PR guy.”
Tommy laughs, folds up the Gogy shirt and puts it back on the shelf.
He looks at some of the other merch, mostly because he’s wondering how much merch they can make for these guys. And why isn't this stored in a warehouse somewhere? Because… jesus.
Tommy glances at the pallets. J.S was stamped on them, Tommy had no idea who J.S was, but he stores it in the back of his mind, the place he didn’t use unless something reminded him of facts he did know.
“Who’s J.S?”
“Jschlatt,” Wilbur adds, “He’s in charge of the company who manages merchandise. What a prick.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
Wilbur laughs and shakes his head, “Nothing, nothing, he’s cool. He didn’t reply to the meme I sent him yesterday, that’s all.”
“How rude.”
“Right?” Wilbur yells, and Tommy nods. He looks at the next group of shirts, Dream merch, he skips over that, it’s ugly. Then he finds the holy grail, it’s the best thing that he’s ever seen.
Philza Minecraft… shoes. They’re shoes, with the small little hearts with the angry eyes that have become so iconic and associated with Philza Minecraft, the man, the myth, the fucking legend himself.
Tommy looks at Wilbur.
Wilbur nods.
Tommy almost faints and puts on the Philza Minecraft shoes, which he gasps at for a moment and jumps up and down in them. They’re not going to fall apart, he smiles and spins around.
“Do I look snazzy?”
Wilbur sighs, it's very tired. He mutters something about babysitting, before turning on his heel and searching around on one of the pallets, he’s muttering under his breath again and Tommy is just staring at him.
He searches for a bit longer, before reaching and pulling out something. It’s a t-shirt, with Spectre in block letters. They were purple and had little stars around the letters. It was a fairly nice shirt, all things considered.
Wilbur grins, “Wear this.”
Tommy looks at him. “Dude.”
Wilbur throws it at Tommy who catches it and sighs. Wilbur then goes through the rest of the clothes for a moment, before grabbing a red hoodie and throwing it at Tommy. It hits him in the face with a thump and Tommy glares into the hoodie.
He holds it up. It’s red Blade merch, with a little crown on it, with white stripes and little white drawstrings. Tommy glares at Wilbur and Wilbur gives a big grin.
“I’m not wearing this merch.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
So that’s how ten minutes later, Wilbur with a bite mark on his hand and Tommy looking like he was thrown through a window. He trudges back to the main living area.
Techno is asleep on the couch, Phil is sitting on the couch with a tablet looking at something. He turns and looks at Tommy.
Tommy who is being drowned by the hoodie. He glares at Wilbur, then at Phil.
“I don’t like this.”
Phil just smiles, “Awwww, you look so young.”
“Fuck off.”
“You look like a child,” Wilbur adds, “Like an infant. Tiny baby child.”
“I resent you.” Tommy swings his arm at Wilbur and Wilbur ducks out of the way easily, before stumbling back slightly and laughing.
Tommy rolls his eyes, and brushes the hair out of his face. “I’m working.”
And he stomps off. Into his office.
Then he does work, as he should answering emails. Answering questions on Twitter from the weirdest questions about his job, to what SBI’s biggest regrets were, something that Tommy had no clue what it was.
That was interesting, to say the least. Tommy sighs and rests his head on the table, thinking of the sweet freedom of going home. Working a job was not all it was cracked up to be, and he actually liked these guys.
They were cool. Apart from Wilbur kicking him off a building, which thankfully had blown over. And the entire… Techno situation, something that Tommy is not going to be thinking of right at this moment, because he is in denial.
What are the stages of grief again? Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. Yeah, Tommy firmly is in denial, and he’s okay with that, he’s accepting that he’s grieving, and that’s good enough.
Denial.
What a man.
So that’s how Tommy spends a good chunk of his time, answering emails. Getting distracted on TikTok and Twitter (okay, there’s Theseus fanart. It’s so cool.) And then spinning on his chair for a bit.
It’s peaceful.
His door is opened, and then it is decidedly not very peaceful. Wilbur is there, the force of nature that he is, even the weather seems to know, because the sun seems to hide from Wilbur.
Tommy is left to just look at Wilbur, a blank expression on his face. Even the sun is scared of him, and all Tommy can do is deal with this mess of a man.
Wilbur claps his hands together. “Have you had your paid break?”
Tommy just looks at him. “Yes. I watched YouTube for an hour.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m good.”
And that’s when Wilbur sighs, he slams his hands down on the desk and looks at Tommy. “We’re going to the park.”
“Huh?”
“Now,” and Wilbur just… picks him up and places him by the door. Tommy doesn’t say anything, instead he follows Wilbur. Because while this technically isn’t his job… he’ll do it anyway.
So that’s how he ends up in a park.
It’s a very nice park, the lawns are a bright green, flowers are in beds and trimmed perfectly. The paths are nice, and there isn’t a single weed. There’s a pond surrounded with a wall made out of rocks and concrete, and a few ducks quacking around him. It’s quite nice actually.
There are a few families on the grass, sitting with picnic blankets and eating. Some of them were laughing, others were talking in their posh accents and talking about cryptocurrency or something.
Whatever rich people talked about.
Wilbur laughs, and throws an arm around Tommy’s shoulder.
There’s no playground, Tommy notes, and it seems like a bit of a just… fake place. It’s all too nice, even the toilets in the back corner look too good. Like they’re never used. Tommy pulls a face.
A duck gets out of the water, and waddles towards them. The duck looks at them, tilts its head and quacks.
Tommy… truthfully, Tommy quacks back.
Then they get in a quacking argument, because Tommy is dumb, and quite tired. Wilbur just nods at him, then quacks at the duck. The duck backs off and Tommy stifles his laughter with his hand.
So. He just got in an argument with a duck, that’s new.
Wilbur sighs, and flops onto the grass.
Tommy looks around the park a little bit more, it’s a bit small. With grassed areas, the pond thing appears to be the centre point. There’s also a vending machine next to one of the gates.
He stares at the vending machine for a moment trying to figure out what it sells, then it clicks. Oh. That’s duck food, in a vending machine, probably to stop people from feeding ducks bread.
It’s a smart idea.
Tommy looks at the duck food, it's a vending machine. He expects that from an Upper L'Manburg park, but still.
He pats his pocket for money, or his card. Then realises that his card is at home and on the bench. He has his phone, but trying to set that up will be annoying. He sighs and gives up on feeding the duck.
Wilbur looks at him, an eyebrow raised and really just curious. He looks at the ducks quacking, then at Tommy.
"Oh." Wilbur grabs his phone and walks to the vending machine. He taps his card and two little bags with duck feed in them fall out. He picks them up, and throws one at Tommy.
He catches it with little struggle, and glares at Wilbur. Wilbur gives a toothy grin back.
There's no hesitation in the actions and that makes something warm and fuzzy in Tommy's stomach seem a bit more relevant.
With a sigh, Tommy throws a handful of feed at the ducks. They quack and try to race each other so they can shovel feed into their mouths as Wilbur laughs. He watches two ducks fight over one piece of feed for a bit, before looking at Wilbur.
Wilbur laughs, and gestures at two ducks pecking at each other. There appears to be no reason. “It’s us!” Wilbur exclaims as one of the two ducks pecks at the other one, and the duck quacks offendedly.
“We’re like brothers,” Tommy deadpans.
“Don’t say that, I will cry.”
“Not if I cry first, bitch.”
Wilbur gives him a look, before shaking his head.
Tommy throws the feed at Wilbur who makes a noise, then ducks are attacking around his feet.
Wilbur screams a bit louder.
Tommy laughs, before shooing the ducks away with his foot and Wilbur glares at him. It's not a very angry glare, more just annoyance.
Still, Tommy gives a lopsided smile back. "Fuck you, bitch."
"Fuck off, gremlin."
"Okay, Spectre. " Tommy shakes his head. He isn't even Philza Minecraft, the only man ever.
Wilbur throws feed at Tommy and it hits him in the forehead. "Why'd you say it like that?"
" Spectre. "
"How are you fucking speaking in italics?" Wilbur throws feed out to the ducks who quack at each other then at Wilbur.
Tommy shrugs. “Because I hate men.”
“What does that mean?” Wilbur sighs, and then pelts a bunch of duck food at Tommy. Tommy just blinks and takes it all in stride, he shakes his head slightly as the ducks peck at his feet. “How are you not-”
“Bitch, I have had literal rocks thrown at me,” Tommy gestures at the ducks that are trying to eat off his shoes to get some slightly more food. It’s not comfortable, but it sure as fuck isn’t uncomfortable. “I can handle some ducks.”
“You’ve had rocks thrown at you?”
“Kids are cruel.” Tommy shrugs. Which is true. Kids are cruel, and Tommy was always the youngest in his class (by three years) and therefore the smallest. “I was pretty small.”
Wilbur blinks at him. “Oh.”
“Don’t exactly have a happy childhood,” Tommy snorts, and that’s putting it mildly. “My parents are very dead.”
Wilbur looks horrified.
“You’re allowed to laugh, that’s kinda the point. I laughed at their funeral.”
“W-what?”
Tommy shrugs again, because that’s easier than explaining what the fuck happened to him. “It was funny.”
“You terrify me.”
“Good,” Tommy looks at his nails, “I should.” It’s not even that much of a lie.
Wilbur sighs, “Okay angst gremlin, feed the ducks.”
“Ducks are so cool,” Tommy sighs looking at all the multi-colored ducks that have surrounded them. It’s almost wholesome, with them quacking and Wilbur looking at the ducks with a fond smile on his face. “Have you ever eaten a duck, Wilbur?”
Wilbur looks up from the ducks and stares at Tommy. “Pardon?”
“Have you ever eaten a duck, Wilbur?”
“I… probably?” Wilbur pulls a face, “I haven’t actively- can we not talk about this while we’re surrounded by cute ducks.”
“Admit what you did,” Tommy deadpans, “Admit what you did to their parents.”
“Tommy.”
“Admit you coward, before I get Twitter on you.”
Wilbur straightens up immediately and stares at Tommy with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t,” he whispers, “Tommy, not Twitter. Please, please, they already have it out for me-”
“Don’t kick vigilantes off roofs then.”
Wilbur’s mouth snaps closed and he glares at Tommy.
Tommy pokes out his tongue.
“Oh you gremlin,” Wilbur says and lunges.
Tommy shrieks (very manly) and stumbles back. The ducks quack and move out of the way sounding mildly offended about the situation. Tommy shrieks again and he jumps over a bench and lands on his feet.
Looking over his shoulder he sees Wilbur pursuing him.
Fuck that. He was winning this game.
If he revealed himself as Theseus trying to win, fuck it he’d deal with that later. Tommy broke out into a run again, he scampered up a tree with what must be a shocking amount of fluidity because Wilbur stares at him wide-eyed.
“Are you a fucking spider?”
Tommy just smiles, “Am I?”
“How the fuck did you—” Wilbur stutters for a moment, looking wide-eyed. “What are you?”
“An idiot,” Tommy mutters, then throws himself out of the tree. He lands on his feet, then does a roll (that parkour practice has come into use) then he lays on the grass for a moment longer.
Then he flips off Wilbur who is rushing over.
“Tommy!”
“Fine,” Tommy deadpans, “All my bones are in one piece. I have bouncy bones, being a child and all.”
Wilbur opens his mouth to say something, to respond.
Someone shrieks, and it sounds like it’s more from laughter than anything else. They both look up. A girl… who somehow looks ancient and like a literal child has a phone pressed to her ear.
She sighs loudly. She has kinda orange hair, but it looks a bit brown too. It’s around her shoulders. “No, no, no, I’m not old. I’m younger than you, what the fuck are you on about—” there’s a sigh.
Tommy looks at Wilbur.
Wilbur looks at Tommy.
“We get it, I’m old. Ancient. Shut the fuck up before I dox you— no healing arc for you. Banned.”
“Oi! Lady.”
Said lady pauses, and turns around, the hatred of a million suns in her eyes. “What the fuck do you want?”
“You look almost as old as Philza Minecraft.”
Wilbur makes sputtering noises and holds out his hands in front of him. Mostly as a defensive method it seems, “Sorry!” Wilbur squeaks, apparently a slightly scary child can put Spectre out of commission. “He’s just… himself.”
The girl looks at both of them, flips off Tommy and turns around. Hair flipping over her shoulder in a way that is a little bit cool. Tommy will not admit that.
“I’m third wheeling!” The girl screams, seemingly excited about… third wheeling? And then she speeds off with the pace that she arrived with. “No, stop talking about my mum. Don’t try to screw my mum—”
Tommy and Wilbur stare at each other for a moment, before both bursting into laughter. Tommy wheezes, and Wilbur clutches at his side.
They both, just laugh, very loudly. Into the park, some of the parents look at them with judgement, but Tommy ignores them in favour for slapping his leg and just fucking, wheezing.
“She—” Wilbur laughs, almost like a schoolgirl. He almost fucking giggles about this entire situation. “Reminds me— that vigilante that Techno likes… the one who keeps doing arson? Y’know?”
Tommy nods his head, “Yeah, yeah. What’s her name… Twilight? Like the My Little Pony—”
“Probably a furry,” Wilbur adds.
“Almost certainly,” Tommy nods.
Wilbur rolls his eyes, before settling on the bench and looking at Tommy with an amusing mix of exhaustion and fondness.
"How did you have that much energy?" Wilbur mutters, "You're worse than Floof."
"I do not appreciate Floof slander in my neighbourhood," Tommy murmurs, it's very slurred and he's quite sleepy.
Laying in the sun like a fucking cat will do that to people. He curls up on the grass slightly more, it feels cool against his head, almost nice.
Wilbur nudges him with his foot.
Tommy makes a noise not too dissimilar to a cat. He hisses slightly and Wilbur laughs and prods him again.
"Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. Tommy." He's kicking him everytime he says that, but Tommy is too relaxed to care. "Tommy. Toms. Thomas."
Tommy rolls over, before looking up at Wilbur lazily. He blinks a few times and Wilbur looks down at him.
"Mmm?"
"You're a bitch," Wilbur says and all Tommy does is groan and roll back over, so his face is pressed against the cool grass.
The park in Logstechire isn't this well cared for, it's cared for well it's one of the only green spaces the area has. It's just... not this meticulously looked after. Flowers seem cut perfectly.
Everything seems too perfect. Which makes little sense, but is how Tommy feels about the entire situation.
The paths are too clean. It's all too nice, like no one has ever really been here and taken a chip out of the pavement.
There's not even many families around. Peppers Park is normally almost bursting at the seams in summer, with people taking advantage of the lake and the grounds and the playground. It's not exactly empty, or clean.
Tommy closes his eyes, feeling even more tired than usual on the grass.
He has no clue if he dozes off or not, only that the sun is a bit lower when he actually opens his eyes. And that Wilbur is sitting on the bench with his phone, he blinks at Tommy. “Oh. C’mon we gotta go.”
Tommy rubs his eyes, and sits up.
“Aw,” Wilbur coos and Tommy sends as much hatred towards him as he can. “Tommy!” He says in a voice that Tommy hates more than… men. “Awww, did little Tommy have a nap?”
“I am going to break your bones,” Tommy mutters, and means just about every word of that. He yawns and stretches, before getting onto his feet. He yawns again and rubs at his eyes. Then he glares again.
The walk back to the tower is quiet. Tommy drags his feet along the concrete and Wilbur doesn’t say much. He’s just on his phone.
They get back to the tower, without anyone stabbing Tommy, which is pretty good. He yawns, rolls his eyes, and opens the door. It’s not opening right, it hasn’t for… a couple days. Despite there being repair guys here.
Kristin gives a wave, Tommy gives a wave back.
Wilbur brightens up straight away and almost sprints over to the desk. He puts an arm on the desk and grins. “So Kristin.”
“Wilbur.”
“Phil is very rich.”
Kristin raises an eyebrow, “Where is this going?”
“Wouldn’t you like to be rich, Kristin? Think about it,” Wilbur pauses like he’s thinking about it. “Benefits. You are rich. Downsides… taxes, but we can get around that.”
Kristin gives him a look. “Are you calling me a golddigger?”
“No!” Wilbur exclaims and slams his hands on the desk, Kristin just covers her mouth and laughs. “That’s the problem, you could be, think of it Kristin. You buy a house, then Philza Minecraft dies in some tragic accident. Oh no… guess you get his fortune.”
Kristin gives him a look. “Instead of you? You know… his son.”
“Yup!” Wilbur grins. “Kristin please, he’s very rich and very lonely.”
“I… how does one even respond to that?”
“Marrying Phil?” Tommy adds. Both of them look at him. “What? My roommates are getting married for the tax benefits when they’re older… not that I told you that. No, we love paying taxes! In fact we pay extra tax before that’s how much we love the government that put us in crippling poverty!” Tommy grins.
Kristin looks just a bit horrified, Wilbur looks far more horrified and Tommy shrugs.
“Poverty!” He yells again with enthusiasm. “We love choosing between eating and heating! The answer to that is heating, just for reference.”
Wilbur look… yup, fucking horrified. Kristin looks just as horrified, which is fucking hilarious. Suddenly you throw some realities in rich people’s faces and they suddenly start thinking more about their money.
“Apart from in the summer,” Tommy continues, not intending to help his case. “Then food. Just open some windows.”
Wilbur blinks at him. “You don’t… have air conditioning?”
“Sometimes,” Tommy shrugs, “Depends on if it’s working or how much money we have.”
Wilbur blinks at him.
Kristin just smiles brightly. It’s not even fake, just amused.
Wilbur grabs Tommy’s arm and gestures towards the elevator. “We got places to be, jobs to do, crimes to commit.”
“Theseus be like…” Tommy mutters and Wilbur hits him in the back of the head. “What? You kicked him off a building, I’m allowed to be salty about this shit.”
They approach the elevator.
They both get in. Then stand there.
They look at each other.
“I’m not pressin’ the button,” Tommy announces.
“Well I’m sure as fuck not.”
They both stand there. Looking at each other. Before Wilbur relents and presses the button.
“Fine.”
The elevator hummed, Tommy crosses his arms and glares at the door.
Wilbur stands quietly next to him.
“So.” Wilbur says, breaking the silence. Because of course he does. Tommy resists the urge to roll his eyes. But he does anyway, because he’s not great at suppressing his microexpressions and probably will never be great at it.
With a sigh, Tommy looks at Wilbur. “What?”
“Do you really not have heating?”
“We do,” Tommy sighs, rolling his eyes, “We make enough now between the three of us—” he pauses and looks at Wilbur, he’s honestly not planning on mentioning Tubbo’s various illegal activities. “For a while it was a bit touch and go.”
Wilbur nods, and the door opens.
The oh so familiar space is there. The kitchen, the huge windows that look across the rest of the city. Which is frankly quite amazing, he hasn’t looked at it much. There’s the living area, which is also open to any of the others who work on this floor… but Tommy’s ever seen SBI here.
(Wait, that’s a lie. Once Tommy saw some of Dream’s PR people here, they took all the hot chocolate and Wilbur had complained about it for like a day afterwards. Not on Tommy’s list of things he appreciated too highly.)
The living area is nice, with a good couch, TV, and a nice glass coffee table. There’s also a bright blue rug that Wilbur seems to hate more than anything, it’s almost funny.
Then the branches of the offices.
Techno’s asleep on the couch, snoring.
Phil is nowhere in sight, which means that he’s probably in his office, probably just vibing. Phil didn’t tend to do a lot of work, he just passed it all off to the minimum wage workers. Which… honestly is quite rude, but Tommy would probably do the same if he could.
But no, apparently everything gets passed to him eventually. Tommy is not supposed to be doing paperwork, but that’s what he fucking did yesterday because all his coworkers are fuck heads.
Tommy takes a deep breath, before stomping over to the kitchen. There’s never a lot in there, but Tommy finds and apple and eats it anyway. Mostly out of spite, but he’s also hungry and glaring at Wilbur.
Wilbur responds by flipping him off, and Tommy doesn’t react.
It’s… weird the sort of normalcy they’ve fallen into. Even if Techno refuses to speak to him. Something about it all feels familiar, and normal, and Tommy is more than happy to fall into that routine again.
For a bit they sit on their phones, not saying anything, because there isn’t a lot to be said.
Then Techno makes a noise, and Tommy drops his phone onto the counter, before picking it up and shoving it into his back pocket.
Wilbur pauses too, looking over to where Techno appears to still be sleeping.
“Oh.” Wilbur says, like that gives Tommy any clues to what is happening, he looks at Tommy. Then at Techno. “Okay, stay back, this could get messy.”
“What?”
Wilbur walks around the couch, before standing next to Techno. “He’s having a nightmare… a bad one it appears,” Wilbur takes a deep breath and holds one of his arms out in front of him like it’s a shield.
Tommy gets off his stool, ready to… he doesn’t really know what he’s going to do.
Wilbur stalls for another second, apparently not looking forward to this.
He then shakes Techno.
The reaction is immediate and terrifying.
Techno throws out an arm, and Wilbur is thrown back. There’s the noise of glass shattering and someone hitting the ground.
Tommy basically vaults over the couch, and stands there for a moment.
Wilbur’s on the ground, surrounded by broken glass. Techno looks like a murder is about to take place, and it’s going to be Wilbur’s.
So Tommy does what any smart person would, and screams. “Phil!”
Techno swings for Wilbur, and Wilbur rolls across the glass in a way that can not be comfortable.
Tommy stares in horror for a moment longer, his mind trying to catch up with what’s happening.
As that’s happening Techno picks up the leg of the now smashed coffee table and raises it over his head.
Wilbur’s eyes go wide.
There are frantic running footsteps and Phil skids out into the room, takes note of the situation and his wings spread out either side of him. He lands in front of Techno, before snatching the table leg out of his hands and throwing it aside.
Phil tackles Techno to the ground right before he can get his hands on Wilbur again, holding him back with his arms by the armpits.
Wilbur jumps back, agitated, holding his now bleeding hand close to his chest. Still, he positions himself in front of Tommy protectively, blocking Techno's vision of him.
Techno kicks and flails, teeth bared and murder in his eyes, his short hair is messy as he tries to headbutt Phil to break free. He yells in anger when he's unable to.
"Techno— Techno calm down! What's going on?!" Phil asks just as worried as frantic, bringing his legs around Techno's torso to hold him in place.
The only response he gets is a mix of yells and weird sounding grunts before Techno doubles his efforts and Phil lets him slip a bit.
Techno gets his arm free and reaches out to attack Wilbur despite the distance and then Tommy's moving before he has the chance to process it, pulling Wilbur back and hurrying to hold Techno's free arm down.
Techno snarls at him, trying to bite him and get his arm free.
Tommy doesn’t let go, he holds onto his arm as tight as he can. Despite Techno trying to fucking bite him.
Then Techno headbutts him, Tommy yelps and lets go of Techno, holding a hand to his nose and all he thinks about for a moment is the pain.
Yup. There’s blood.
This is gonna be difficult to explain to Tubbo and Ranboo.
Wilbur moves between Tommy and Techno, before gripping onto Techno’s free arm.
Phil pulls him back and almost tips back, his hold now obviously painful with the way Techno whines and cries out like a caged animal, his shoulder cracks and the arm Wilbur is holding stops moving but his legs' kicking gets more desperate, like now he's genuinely fighting for his life.
He cries out in agony, tears streaming down his face, as desperate as his movements "Phil-!" he hiccups, scared, terrified "Phil— Please, it hurts, dad!" he sobs. “Let me go!” He shrieks.
Phil moves his arms so he's holding Techno around the chest, similar to a hug and Techno's still moving arm immediately goes to clutch his leg before gripping Phil's arm around his chest in what seems to be an attempt to ground himself.
Techno makes a sobbing noise.
Wilbur lets go of Techno and turns so he’s facing Tommy. He clicks in Tommy’s face and Tommy glares.
“Hold your nose,” Wilbur says, “Tilt forwards.”
Tommy does what Wilbur says.
“Let me go!” Techno screams, “Phil— Phil— please!”
Tommy’s focus is on Techno again, and Wilbur holds out his arm. Whether that’s to stop Tommy from moving forwards, or Techno from attacking the both of them again, he doesn’t really know.
Phil doesn’t say anything.
Wilbur seems to understand something that Tommy doesn’t, because he stands up and grabs Tommy.
Techno is screaming bloody murder muttering things that Tommy can’t make out, but they might as well stab him in the gut because they’re just… desperate, and so, so loud.
Tommy is pushed into the elevator and the both of them take a deep breath, before Tommy turns to actually look at Wilbur’s injuries.
They get into the elevator and Wilbur takes a deep breath. There are cuts across his hands, and arms, there’s one on the side of his head and there’s a bit of glass in his hand. Tommy grabs his phone from his pocket, and takes a moment to look at his own injuries. His nose is bleeding pretty heavily…
He doesn’t care a lot of that, but all he can think about is Techno’s terrified screaming. It was… confronting.
Wilbur looks at him, and sighs, a sigh which is too tired for him to have. “Sorry about that. Please don’t sue us.”
“I won’t…” Tommy doesn’t mean to let his sentence trail off, but it does anyway. His mind is… going through a lot right now, mostly the heart wrenching screams. “What… happened?”
“Nightmare,” Wilbur closes his eyes, like saying the words were difficult. “They don’t get this bad often,” he reaches up and touches the cut on the side of his face, huffing slightly. “He thinks he’s back… there and just starts attacking.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Will Phil… be okay?”
Wilbur shrugs, “Techno won’t hurt him.”
“Won’t he?”
“Nah,” Wilbur doesn’t look sure though, “Well… it’s complicated.”
“I— huh?”
“It’s complicated,” Wilbur finishes.
That’s helpful.
Tommy decides that this is something to deal with later.
Instead the elevator opens and they’re on the medical floor.
A familiar dog looks at them, so much judgement in his eyes.
Floof. The man himself. Tommy’s favourite dog.
The dog stares at him.
Before starting into a run and hitting into Tommy’s legs, he yaps excitedly before pausing and looking at Wilbur. Wilbur and Floof get into… a staring contest, because of course they do.
Floof wins.
Someone approaches them, asking what happened and proceeding to take the pair of them over to a bed.
Tommy feels… a bit numb about the whole thing. He feels like… not great.
Wilbur does all the talking and Tommy doesn’t complain because he’s… not coping well, by any standards it appears. Tommy’s tired, and watches Wilbur explain the situation, as glass is picked out of his hand.
Eventually Phil shows up, he looks tired, but cheerful.
“Tommy.”
“Phil,” Tommy smiles.
“How are you?” Phil asks, actually concerned, it was shown in his eyes. “Is your nose okay?”
“It’s fine,” Tommy says and means it, “I’ve had worse.”
That makes Phil look just as concerned, but for other reasons. “Glad you’re okay,” Phil says, before looking at Wilbur.
Wilbur who had a small jar with the piece of glass in it, Wilbur grins and shakes it, like a child would a rock in a jar. “Phil, look!”
“I’m lookin’.”
“How’s the coffee table?” Wilbur asks, sounding a bit hopeful. “In pieces?”
Phil nods.
Wilbur whoops and throws his arms up in the air. “Finally! It was so ugly.”
“I liked the coffee table,” Tommy mutters, and crosses his arms.
“Me too,” Phil mutters. “Jesus.”
“How’s Techno?”
“Asleep.”
“Is that a good idea?”
“No clue,” Phil rubs his face, he looks just… so much more stressed. “Techno’s having a breakdown, you’re… going to have one soon and Tommy. Tommy, you're the only stable one right now.”
Tommy makes a noise, “I wouldn’t say that.”
Phil sighs, and it’s a little bit heartbreaking how tired Phil sounds. “Okay… cool, I need some forewarning for breakdowns.”
“That’s an actual rule,” Wilbur looks at Tommy, apparently explaining the context. “If you’re gonna crash, you gotta tell Phil before, if you can. Techno’s gonna be in trouble.”
Phil sighs and sits down on one of the beds, even his posture seems to say that he’s just… so, so tired.
Wilbur stands up, “I’m going home. Call me if you need anything.”
“Always,” Phil mutters, and just like that Wilbur leaves.
Phil sits there for a moment longer, eyes slightly far away, and he’s clearly not thinking about trying to make awkward small talk with Tommy. But that’s alright. Phil is just so tired, and Tommy feels… more than responsible for that.
“Phil,” Tommy says.
Phil looks up and focuses back in. “Yeah, Tommy?”
“It might not be worth a lot, but I think you’re doing a really good job. Just in general, calming Techno down, making sure Wil and I were alright.”
Phil smiles, it’s a bit sad, but also hopeful. “Thank you Tommy. Really.”
“No problem,” Tommy grins.
Phil sighs, “You’re a good kid.”
And… Tommy feels guilty all again. This is his fault, this is kind of all the result of his making a terrible decision. Now Techno’s… not going well, and Phil isn’t apparently coping very well. That also makes Tommy wants to scream.
This is his fault. It’s dumb to say otherwise— he was the one who went to sell Techno back, he was the one who started a snowball effect which turned into this—
His phone buzzes.
Tommy picks up his phone, feeling slightly numb. The notification is there… pretty easy to see on his phone.
‘The Blade Found Passed Out In An Alley.’
He opens the article, it’s a photo of… Techno passed out in an alley covered in blood, and Tommy is willing to bet that it’s his blood from that night at the warehouse.
Something about that makes him feel sick.
And now on top of all this shit, Tommy has to fucking deal with a PR nightmare.
He can already see the hashtag trending.
---