If You Need Somewhere Safe

by orphan_account

Summary:

AU where Tommy remembers that Sam offered him a safe place to stay.

After Logstedshire is blown sky-high, Tommy needs a place to go, and there's a seven-foot creeper hybrid that's more willing than to help him. Tommy doesn't know how much he trusts the help (especially with Sam's roomates), but he's willing to try.

It's not like he's got a lot of options, anyway. And anything is better than Dream.

(on indefinite hiatus)

Notes:

The fact that Tommy went to Technoblade (who literally tried to kill him) instead of Sam? Hm. HM. No me gusta. Fixing. I'm fixing. But I'm also tired and sad and dumb, so I'm fixing in a way that's probably just gonna be like hhhhhhhhhhhhhh-

Chapter 1: Outrunning Memories

Tommy had closed his eyes when he fell. There was water below him, somewhere, not that he cared to aim for it. He knew he should have been terrified, and he was, sort of. The idea of dying was slightly less appealing after he’d jumped than it had been at the top of the tower, but the falling was a comfort, even if the end result scared him.

He didn’t want to die, Tommy realized. He just wanted to rest.

The impact jolted Tommy from his thoughts. His heart stuttered for a moment before realizing that he was still alive. Water. It was intense, but ultimately harmless. Really, it was the cold that startled him more than anything. He could drown, he thought hazily, his goal would still be reached that way.

But, unfortunately, his body wouldn’t let him. He pulled himself out of the water on instinct, gasping as he dragged himself onto solid ground, silently cursing (or maybe thanking) whatever twist of fate had prevented his death that night.

Well, if fate was going to keep him alive for a little while longer, he might as well make fate his bitch. No way in hell was he going to say in Logstedshire, no matter what Dream had to say about it. The question was: Where the fuck could he go?

His first thought was the snow biome. It was pretty much the opposite direction of L'Manburg, which was good, but it was also a predictable direction. Besides, he didn’t have the means to survive in that kind of landscape for very long.

He could almost hear Wilbur’s voice scolding him for his lack of preparedness. Chastising him for not even having the basic tools necessary to survive.

If Wilbur were alive, Tommy would tell him to shut up, because Dream had taken all his shit. Then Wilbur would probably scream at him in a crazy rage, and Tommy would have to apologize or talk him down, and then he’d spend the night wondering how much of his brother was left after the war.

But Wilbur wasn’t alive. And fuck him, anyway. Tommy shoved the voice aside and tried to think of something else.

The only other place he could think of was the Badlands, but he didn’t really have any allies in that general direction. Most of them were fairly neutral, as far as he knew, although Sapnap and Bad had both visited him in exile. And Quackity’s weird cousin, but he wasn't exactly around anymore. RIP, Mexican Dream.

Murdered cousins aside, the only other people Tommy could remember visiting was Drista, once, and… Fundy? Maybe? It was hard to remember. He couldn't think of anyone else, really. Except for-

“Sam,” Tommy breathed. Sam had visited. Sam had offered him someplace safe.

Tommy didn’t trust that it was safe--he couldn’t afford to assume anywhere was safe--but it was away, and that was good enough.

He started walking, and then running, and then sprinting as fast as he could. Dream wasn’t behind him, and Tommy knew that, but there was always the lingering fear that he was watching. Tommy could almost feel Dream’s faceless stare in Logstedshire, and the faster he could escape it, the better.

Part of him hoped Dream wouldn’t be too upset with him. Dream had tried so hard to be a good friend, after all, and Tommy was just running off.

The adrenaline from the fall started to wear off as he ran. His arms burned from the explosion, his face burned with a fresh cut, his legs burned with exhaustion, and his lungs burned because he couldn’t fucking breathe.

Keep running, Wilbur told him. They’re right behind us, don’t fucking stop.

Tommy shook his head and pushed himself faster. It hurt, but it was welcome. It was familiar. It pulled him out of the past and reminded him where he was.

There was no one behind him. No Quackity or Fundy. No Schlatt. No Dream. Nobody. He was running from memories, which was an idea so ridiculous that it almost pulled a laugh from him.

Almost. Really, he just felt more like screaming.

So he let himself scream. He was alone, who the fuck was going to stop him?

He screamed until he couldn’t breathe--until he was drowning in the memories--and then he stopped. He stopped screaming, stopped running, stopped everything. He let the rising moonlight wash over his bruised skin and took deep, aching breaths until the world wasn’t spinning anymore.

It’s not your time to die.

Fine, then. If Tommy couldn’t die, then he’d survive out of spite.

Notes:

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Anyhow. I know this chapter is short, the chapters will get longer, I promise.

Chapter 2: The Cost of Staying

Notes:

I don't have a schedule for this story, so. *yeets this at you*

Tommy realized his mistake as soon as he reached Sam’s house. Sam had roommates. George and Sapnap, if he remembered correctly, and he didn’t think they’d be happy to see him.

Well, Sapnap might not care so much, but George would. George definitely would.

It was too dark to turn back, though. And it wasn’t like Tommy had any other options. What else was he supposed to do? Go to Technoblade’s? The guy who literally told him to 'die like a hero'? No fucking way, avoiding that like the goddamn plague.

He needed a different plan. He couldn’t exactly walk in the front door, so he needed a different way in. Sam had shown him the house once, before the wars, offering him a place to stay and claiming that he was looking for a new roommate.

Tommy knew what it was. It was pity, and he didn’t need it. Besides, Wilbur probably would have killed him if he had accepted.

Regardless of Sam’s intentions, Tommy remembered the general layout of the house. If he could slip in a window somewhere… no, Sam’s house was embedded in the hill. There were no windows to sneak into.

So, he didn’t have a solid plan, but that was fine. Tommy could just find a place to hide outside, and then figure out somewhere else to go in the morning. He ignored the way his legs threatened to give out and started to walk away from the house. This would work, he assured himself. This would definitely work.

There was a noise. What was that noise? It was muffled, and it was almost definitely coming from the house, but there shouldn’t have been any noise. Sam should be asleep, and there wasn’t anyone else around, what the fuck was it?

He ducked behind a bush and closed his eyes against the dizzying feeling that came with moving too fast. Focus.

Sam’s door opened, and the noise came through much clearer: barking. Tommy felt like cursing. How could he forget Sam owned a fucking dog? He couldn’t sneak around with a dog on the property. He had to go. Hide. Something.

“Someone out there?” a voice called. Then, a little quieter, the same voice asked, “Fran, what are you barking at?”

Tommy pulled his knees up to his chest and tried to make himself as small as possible. That was Sam’s voice. And maybe he should have been thankful it was Sam, and not one of the other occupants of the house, because he was absolutely going to be caught. The rustling of the bushes beside him confirmed it.

The dog--Fran?--had stopped barking. Tommy could feel her snuffling close to him and leaned away, willing her to leave him alone, but knew it was pointless.

“What’d you find, Fran?” Sam was close. Too close. Tommy wanted to run, but he couldn’t. “Who- oh, my god. Tommy?”

Taking a breath, Tommy opened his eyes to look up at the moonlit outline above him. “Sam.” He winced at the sound of his own voice. “How do?”

“What are you doing out here?” Sam knelt in front of him, pushing up his goggles so that Tommy could see the glowing red of his irises. “Why didn’t you- Tommy, come inside.”

“No!” Tommy exclaimed, then immediately quieted when he realized he had shouted. “I mean, I… I was going to. Then I remembered that you, um… you live with Sapnap and George, yeah? They don’t- they’re Dream’s friends.” He gripped his arms until his nails were digging into the skin. “I wasn’t- I was gonna leave, I swear. I can leave now if-”

“Tommy,” Sam interrupted. “If you’re worried about Sapnap and George, they’re not here right now. They’re rarely around.” He carefully pulled Fran away so that she’d stop sniffing at Tommy’s arms. “And it wouldn’t matter if they were here, I’d still let you stay.”

“But they’d tell Dream I’m here,” Tommy protested. “And I can’t- he can’t know. He can’t know, Sam, he’ll be so angry.”

Sam studied him for a moment. “Tommy, please come inside.”

Tommy glanced away. “What happens if I do?” Because surely something would happen. It wasn’t like Tommy was going to be able to stay without consequence, that just wasn’t how things worked. He got L’Manburg so long as he gave up his discs, he got Pogtopia so long as he obeyed Wilbur, he got Logstedshire so long as he let Dream destroy everything he owned.

What did Sam want?

“Nothing happens,” Sam told him. “Except that we get you cleaned up a little bit. Let you get some sleep. Maybe we talk about why you’re here, but we can skip that for now, if you want.”

Tommy didn’t trust this. He couldn’t trust this. There was something about the way Sam offered it that made it feel too easy. No demanding questions, no impossible choices, no sugar-coated threats. It felt deceptive. Like Sam was tricking him somehow.

The most rational choice he could make, at least for the moment, was to comply. Eventually, Sam would show his true colors. Sam would tell Tommy what he wanted, and then Tommy could act accordingly. But until then, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay.

Notes:

This chapter is like 900 words. The next one is, like, over 3,000, I think. Told you the chapters would get longer.

Chapter 3: Exhaustion

Notes:

Sammy-Boy is NOT prepared for this.

When Fran had started barking, Sam had been expecting an animal. Or maybe a mob of some kind, if he was less fortunate. He didn’t expect her to start clawing at the door, and then run outside frantically as soon as he opened it.

And as much as her behavior surprised him, it was nothing compared to shock of finding Tommy hiding just outside his house.

He couldn’t see much in the darkness, but Tommy was obviously hurt. His clothes were torn and damp, providing little to no cover against the cool night air. He was thin and shaking and clearly trying to escape something.

Dream. Tommy was trying to escape Dream.

Sam cursed himself for not being more insistent that Tommy stay with him. He didn’t know what happened in Logstedshire, and Tommy was in no shape to tell him, but he could assume it wasn’t anything good. For the moment, Sam pushed it aside to lead the hesitant teenager to his house.

“Fran,” Sam called as he opened the door to let her in. “Come on, girl, let’s go inside.”

Fran bounded into the house, but Tommy lingered outside the door for a moment. “So. Fran. Is she, uh… yours? I can’t imagine she belongs to Sapnap.”

“Yeah, she’s my dog,” Sam said. As if on cue, Fran butted her head affectionately against Sam’s leg in a polite demand to be pet. “She doesn’t bite, don’t worry.” He paused. “Well, I take that back: She does bite, but not unless something is attacking the base.”

“Ah,” Tommy stepped inside, eyeing Fran warily. “A guard dog, then?”

Sam shrugged. “Emotional support dog, mostly. But, yeah, she’s been known to bite the occasional zombie.”

Tommy started to reach out a hand, then retracted it. “Has she been known to bite, you know… people?”

“Nope,” Sam replied. “There’s not a lot of people that actually know where the house is, so we’ve never really dealt with an intruder before.”

“Hm.” Tommy reached out again, carefully patting Fran on the head. Fran perked up, delighted at the prospect of a new friend. “Good dog, eh? Not gonna bite me?” Fran licked his hand. “Pog.” Tommy followed Sam into the house with one hand on Fran at all times.

Tommy didn’t trust him, that much Sam could tell. He tucked himself in the corners of every room, eyeing every door, like he was waiting for a chance to run. So Sam made sure to keep his movements slow, his hands in Tommy’s line of sight at all times. God forbid Tommy run off and land himself right back with Dream.

“Not sure if any of this will fit you,” Sam said, holding out a change of clothes for Tommy to take, “But it’ll do for now. At least until I can get your clothes mended.”

The hand not petting Fran tentatively took the change of clothes. “Yeah, uh… okay.”

Sam nodded. “Let’s take a look at those injuries before you get changed, though.”

“I’m not injured.” Tommy seemed to realize his mistake as soon as Sam gave his arms a pointed glance, covering his arms and attempting to brush the dirt (and what looked suspiciously like ash) off of his shirt. “That’s nothing. That- it’s fine.”

“It doesn’t look fine,” Sam said. Fran sniffed at Tommy’s arms, giving a quiet grunt at the dried blood.

Tommy tensed and pulled his arm away from Fran. “I said it’s fine.” He took a step back and hugged the clothes Sam handed him to his stomach. “It’s just- I can handle myself. I’m perfectly fucking fine.”

Defensive. Got it. Sam thought carefully about how he should phrase his next statement. “I know you can take care of yourself, Tommy,” he said. “But I’m going to be worried either way. Really, it’s more for my benefit than yours.”

There was a moment of Tommy studying Sam, maybe trying to find the deception somewhere in what was visible of his expression, which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot. Between the goggles and the mask, Sam’s emotions were an enigma to most people unless you knew him well enough to read his body language and tone of voice.

Sam didn’t want to think about how, technically speaking, with Dream’s white mask covering his entire face, Tommy might actually be used to that.

He was suddenly glad he’d pushed his goggles up. Maybe he’d keep those off whenever he talked to Tommy.

“Okay,” Tommy said slowly. “If… if you’re really gonna be, like, stressed and shit about it.”

“Thank you.” Sam gave Tommy a smile, knowing he couldn’t see it, but still hoped he could tell. “Let’s go sit on the couch, yeah? Probably more comfortable.” Tommy nodded, and quietly followed Sam to the couch in the main area of the house. “Sit here. I’ll be right back with some supplies.”

Fran stayed with Tommy on the couch, laying her head in his lap. Sam silently thanked her for giving the comfort Tommy obviously needed at the moment. He wouldn’t accept it from Sam, not with how defensive he was, so Fran was doing the next best thing.

Sam loved that dog so goddamn much.

As much as he wanted to just give Tommy some healing potions and save them both the hassle, the burns on Tommy’s arms hadn’t been treated properly. Had Sam found him right when they happened, or if Tommy had cleaned the injury and wrapped his arms himself, then it might not be a cause for concern.

However, Tommy clearly hadn’t treated the wounds and Sam found him maybe hours after it had happened. A potion would heal Tommy, of course, but the wounds would close around dirt, ash, and whatever else had gotten caught in the raw, exposed skin. Sam wasn’t willing to risk infection just for the sake of healing Tommy faster.

Tommy held an arm out obediently when Sam asked for it, but the trembling didn’t go unnoticed. Sam didn’t comment on it, he just took Tommy’s wrist as gently as he could and looked over the wounds. “This might sting,” he warned before carefully cleaning up Tommy’s cuts and burns.

As Sam worked his way up Tommy’s arms, he noticed more injuries. All healed, thankfully, they were all just scars. Some were old, light and faded with time--from a lifetime of fighting, Sam assumed--but others seemed newer and raw.

Almost as though he’d gotten them within the last few months or so.

Sam made a mental note to punch Dream. It was the seventh mental note on the subject he’d filed away since finding Tommy, and he wondered vaguely if it was righteous anger or his creeper instincts that insisted he find some TNT and blast Dream sky-high.

He refocused on fixing Tommy’s injuries.

Tommy didn’t flinch. He didn’t even so much as wince when Sam pulled small shards of stone out of a particularly harsh burn. Sam didn’t want to think too hard about what someone might have to go through to be accustomed to that kind of pain, though he supposed living through two wars would be a good place to start.

“Okay. I think that’ll stop any kind of infection.” Sam stood and walked over to his chest full of potions. “Give me a second, and I’ll- what are you doing?” Tommy had grabbed a roll of bandages and started clumsily wrapping them around his arms. “Tommy, stop, I’m going to give you a healing potion.”

The teenager glanced up at him, looking almost afraid. “I don’t want it.”

“You don’t want a healing potion,” Sam repeated, unable to think of a single reason why Tommy wouldn’t want a potion to heal himself. Those injuries had to hurt. “And why is that, exactly?”

Tommy swallowed and looked away, his grip tightening around the roll of bandages. “I just don’t want it.”

Sam sighed and put the healing potion back in the chest. “Okay. I hate to leave your arms torn up like that, but okay.” He wasn’t going to force Tommy to take the potion, even though the voice of reason in the back of his head was screaming at him for it. “You know what? Maybe that’s a good call, anyway.” He closed the lid to the chest and turned back to Tommy. “Accelerated healing like that takes energy, and I’m not sure if you have any energy to spare.”

“Oh… yeah.” Tommy seemed to relax at that. “Of course, that’s- that’s why I said I didn’t want it. I knew it wouldn’t- I definitely knew that.”

That was a very blatant lie, and they both knew it, but Sam let it slide. “Let me help you with those bandages, okay? Need to get something for that cut on your face, too.”

It was another quiet few minutes of Sam wrapping Tommy’s arms before he spoke again. “You would have gotten in trouble if you used the healing potion.”

Sam paused in his wrapping to acknowledge Tommy’s statement. “Why’s that?”

“Because I- it was kind of like a punishment, I guess? I mean, I deserved it, anyway.” Tommy rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. “And Dream doesn’t like it when I, you know, try and get out shit like that. Or whatever. Which is fine, he’s right to be angry, but I didn’t want you to get in trouble, so… yeah.”

And the eighth mental note to punch Dream officially had a place on the metaphorical corkboard.

Tommy, apparently realizing Sam wasn’t happy with that answer, was quick to amend with, “It’s really not as bad as it sounds! It’s not like Dream ever really hurt me.” His gaze flitted to the door before looking back at Sam. “And- and if he did, it was an accident, you know? It was always my fault anyway. If I pissed him off too much, or-”

“Tommy.”

“Or stood too close to an explosion,” Tommy continued, his voice beginning to waver. “And he would heal me, Sam, it wasn’t… if I was ever actually really hurt, like I might’ve died or something, he would- he would help.” His free hand closed into a trembling fist. “Because that’s what friends do. Help each other. He was a good friend to me.”

Stood too close to an explosion. Explosion? Why were there any explosions at all? What would Dream possibly have to blow up in Logstedshire? And why would Tommy be anywhere near it? Why was he close enough to get burned?

Sam pushed the thought away. “You shouldn’t have to be on the verge of death before someone decides to help you,” he said firmly, keeping his gaze trained on the arm he was bandaging so Tommy couldn’t see the anger in his expression. “Now, I’m going to ask you again, and you can answer however you want. Do you want a healing potion?”

Tommy shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “I don’t want it.”

Sam paused for a moment, giving Tommy a chance to change his mind. “As long as you’re sure,” he said, going back to patching up Tommy’s arm. “But the option is there, if you want it.” He taped the last bandage in place and stood. “I’m gonna get you a glass of water, okay? Wait here.”

Walking to the kitchen gave him a moment to cool off. Or, at least, it gave him an opportunity to put his thoughts in order.

Dream had clearly messed with Tommy in a very big and very bad way. If his injuries and nervous demeanor were anything to go by, Sam could easily file child abuse under Dream’s list of crimes. Not to mention his gray eyes and complete lack of self-preservation.

Sam was sure, now more than ever, that L'Manburg had made a mistake entrusting Dream with Tommy’s safety.

He returned to Tommy and handed him the glass of water. “Here. Drink this, and then you can go change out of those.” Tommy nodded, wincing as he reached for the cup. “I know you said that you didn’t want the healing potion, but what if I gave you one to put in your inventory? Not to drink now, of course, but just in case you want it later.”

“I told you, I don’t want it,” Tommy repeated. “Dream wouldn’t want-”

“I don’t particularly care what Dream wants,” Sam said. “I, personally, would prefer you to not be in pain.”

“Dream never wanted me to be in pain,” Tommy said between sips of water. “He needed to teach me a lesson, is what he said. Like I told you, I deserved it. If Dream ever had to do something that hurt me, it was only because he had no other choice.”

Sam studied Tommy carefully. “Do you actually believe that?”

Tommy frowned. “I… you’re saying that like I shouldn’t believe it.” He set the glass aside, only half the contents emptied. “Why are you saying it like that?”

“Tommy, you need to finish drinking the water,” Sam said. “It’ll help you calm down.” Fran whimpered, probably sensing the rising anxiety in the room.

“Dream is my friend,” Tommy told Sam, though he himself sounded unsure of the statement. “Why did you say it like that?”

Sam hesitated. “Friends don’t usually hurt each other, Tommy,” he finally explained. “You shouldn’t have to feel afraid of a friend.” Tommy’s expression faltered. “Listen, I know tonight was a lot, okay? Why don’t you finish that, change your clothes, then we can find you something to eat before you get some rest.”

Tommy nodded slowly. “Sure, yeah. Whatever you say, Big Man.” He downed the rest of the water, nearly sighing in relief as he set the empty glass down. Sam was far from satisfied with the progress, wishing he could convince Tommy to do more, but it was good enough for the moment.

While Tommy disappeared into the bathroom to clean himself up, with Fran not far behind, Sam worked on finding something for him to eat. Given how severely malnourished Tommy looked, he figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to make anything too rich.

Bread would probably be safe, he decided. He wished he could call Puffy for help, but it didn’t seem like Tommy trusted anyone at the moment, not even Sam (not that Sam would possibly blame him for that), so he decided to wait on contacting Puffy.

Tommy and Fran reappeared from the bathroom just as Sam was setting out a loaf of bread and some honey. “Hey,” Sam said, “feeling better?”

The teenager hummed, which wasn’t exactly an answer, but Sam didn’t press. “What’s this?”

“Dinner, sort of.” Sam gestured for Tommy to sit down. “Help yourself.”

“Oh. Um…” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. “No, that’s alright, I’m- I’m not hungry.”

Sam tilted his head. “I understand if you’re not hungry, Tommy, but I’d like for you to try eating something anyway.” Even Tommy didn’t feel hungry at the moment, his body clearly needed it. Sam’s clothes would have been big on Tommy, but they shouldn’t have been hanging off his frame like that. “Even if it’s something small,” he added, because something small was better than nothing and it was far less demanding.

Tommy stiffened. “Or what? You’ll fucking make me?” The challenge shook around the edges. “You can’t make me do shit, bitch.”

“I don’t want to make you do anything,” Sam said calmly. “I just said I’d like for you to eat something.” He looked Tommy over. “But you’re… honestly, Tommy? You look like you haven’t eaten properly in weeks. If you don’t want anything, that’s fine, I won’t make you, but I’d feel better if you did.”

Sam turned away to sort through his food supplies, giving Tommy the space to make his decision without seeming overbearing.

There was more than enough food for the two of them, which was good, but not much of it was safe for someone as malnourished as Tommy was. Sam doubted Tommy could eat much of anything without his body rejecting it.

He wasn’t equipped for this. Taking care of starving, injured teenagers was not a skill you learned to become a builder.

The sound of a chair being pulled out gave Sam’s thoughts pause. Tommy had actually sat down to eat. It wasn’t progress, exactly, it was most likely just Tommy being too tired (or too scared) to argue with him. Both of which Sam hoped to fix.

“The room I offered you is still empty,” Sam told Tommy without turning. “And I’ve got some extra blankets, if you need them.” He suspected Tommy would, considering the teenager was severely lacking in any kind of natural insulation.

“S’fine,” Tommy said. “Actually, I can just sleep outside or some shit, if you want me out of the way. I’m used to it.”

Sam stopped sorting through his food supplies. Anger sparked somewhere deep in his chest, but he ignored it. Now was not the time. “What do you mean ‘you’re used to it’, Tommy?”

“Had a tent back in Logstedshire,” Tommy replied absently. “And, you know, Dream would… he’d…” Sam turned to see Tommy picking at a piece of bread. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. Point is: I’m used to it. It would keep me out of your hair, anyway.”

Mental note number nine: Punch Dream.

“You’re not sleeping outside,” Sam told him, careful to keep the anger out of his voice. “It’s not a matter of keeping you out of my hair, I offered to let you stay. Why would I make you sleep outside if I asked you to come with me?”

Tommy shrugged. “Dream made me go with him, too. Didn’t seem to be a problem.”

Sam watched Tommy continue to pick at the loaf of bread for a few seconds before sitting down at the table across from him. “Tommy.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want to ask about Logstedshire tonight. You’re clearly not ready to talk about it, and that’s okay.” Tommy didn’t meet his gaze. “But I need you to know that, no matter what Dream told you, you did not deserve anything that happened.”

Fran whined and set her head on Tommy’s leg. Tommy made no move to pet her. “Look, I- it’s not…” He sighed. “I’m tired, Sam.”

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“I’m just tired.”

Sam waited for Tommy to elaborate, but he was silent, gray eyes trained on the table as his hands began to tremble (when did Tommy's eyes become so dull?). “Let’s get you to bed, okay? We can talk tomorrow.”

Tommy stood, leaving the barely eaten bread on the table. Sam led Tommy to the spare room next to George’s. The dread pooling in his stomach was getting harder and harder to ignore. The words ‘I’m tired’ seemed entirely too dangerous for some reason, and he didn’t want to think about why.

He pushed open the door to the guest room. “Come get me if you need anything,” Sam told Tommy. “Seriously. I mean anything.” Tommy nodded, wordlessly climbing into the bed and rolling over to face away from the door. “Good night, Tommy.”

There was no response from Tommy, but Sam was fine with that. Tommy was safe, his injuries bandaged, and resting comfortably, and that’s all Sam could do until Tommy let him help more. They could deal with everything else later.

Fran jumped onto the bed with Tommy, looking at Sam expectantly. Sam knew what she wanted, and was once again thankful for her comforting abilities. “I’m going to leave the door open for Fran, okay? I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything.”

Still no response. Sam left the door cracked and walked away, trying desperately to think of some way to work through everything in his head.

Sam lived with Dream’s two best friends, who could potentially stop by at any time. He wouldn’t reach out to Puffy without asking Tommy first, which he couldn’t do until morning, assuming Tommy even woke up. Judging by the bags under his eyes, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he slept for three days straight.

After getting exactly nowhere with his thoughts, Sam went to bed, but it was hours before he fell asleep. He could spend days wracking his brain for solutions, but he knew he’d come up empty because, truthfully, he was in no way prepared for this.

But he was still going to try anyway. Tommy deserved at least that much.

Notes:

Don't worry, Sam is gonna call in his support team here real soon. He just wants to let Tommy rest a little bit first.

Chapter 4: Fool Me Once

Notes:

I wrote this with a cat in my lap, so I was understandably very distracted, sorry if this sucks. I'm still trying to nail the character's personalities in my writing, so this chapter is mostly just mundane conversation.

The warmth that Tommy woke up to was so unfamiliar that it burned. He wrenched his eyes open, almost craving the ocean he was used to waking up in. At least the drowning would have been familiar. This was… what was this?

He blinked, trying to get his bearings as he struggled to remember the previous night. Dream had blown up Logstedshire, he’d gathered cobblestone to build a tower, and then-

Sam.

Tommy bolted upright, startling Fran as he pushed himself out of bed. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of, he just knew that he was afraid. If Tommy had learned anything, it was that people were never, ever kind without purpose. No one helped you unless they wanted something in return or wanted to betray you somewhere down the line.

Was there any reason to believe Sam would be different? What proof did Tommy have that Sam wasn’t helping him just to take advantage of him later? Wasn't that what Dream had done? Dream had stopped him from jumping in lava, an otherwise kind gesture, but it was only so that he could prolong Tommy's suffering.

No, Dream was his friend. A friend that blew up his things, maybe, but still. Dream cared, that’s why he wouldn’t let Tommy jump.

But if Dream cared so much, then what was Tommy doing here?

Tommy shook himself mentally to clear his thoughts. His head was spinning far too much to be thinking about Dream. He’d only just woken up, and he already felt like he was going to be sick. He could sort his thoughts about Dream later. For now, he needed to find Sam.

He could hear the builder somewhere in the house. Kitchen, maybe? It was hard to tell, considering the house was built like a small fortress, but it was almost reflex to memorize it anyway. Always good to have an escape plan, after all, no matter how safe you thought you were. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way.

It was a lesson he had learned from Wilbur: always have an out.

Wilbur already got his out, Tommy thought bitterly.

Fran leaning against his legs jolted him from his thoughts. “Hey, girl.” Tommy patted the top of her head. “Let’s find Sam, yeah? Probably misses you.” He pulled open the door, which hadn’t moved from where Sam had left it. “You stay in here all night? Crazy dog. Why didn’t you go with Sam?” Fran gave a single bark in response. “Yeah, well, next time you should probably stay with your owner.”

Sam was in the kitchen, just as Tommy suspected, busy preparing breakfast. He didn’t notice Tommy at first, and it was tempting to turn around and slink away, but Fran ruined it with a friendly bump against Sam’s leg.

“Hi there, Fran,” Sam turned to pet his dog, noticing Tommy standing to the side as he did. “Hey, Tommy. Sleep okay?”

Tommy nodded. It was the first time he’d slept soundly in… a while. He’d been so tired when he finally slipped into unconsciousness that even his nightmares had left him alone. He suspected they’d be back before long, though.“Yeah. Slept great, Big Man.” He moved to take a seat at the table. “What’s, uh… what are you cooking?”

“Eggs,” Sam answered. “I can make toast, too, if you want. And I’ve got some fruit.”

The choices Sam was giving Tommy made him uncomfortable. Dream had never given him a choice about things, not without there being a catch. Nobody did, really. There was always a catch, he just had to wait for Sam to tell him what it was.

Sam looked over at him expectantly. “Well? Did you want anything, or are you just not a breakfast person?”

“What do you want?” Tommy asked before he could stop himself. “What’s- I already ate last night, and you didn’t ask for anything. Don’t you… don’t you want something?”

“No,” Sam said, “I don’t want anything. Just wondering if you wanted breakfast.”

Fine. If Sam wasn’t going to tell him what the catch was, then Tommy wasn’t going to take the offer. “Whatever,” he leaned back in his chair. “No, I’m not a breakfast person.” He really wasn’t all that hungry, anyway. Hadn’t been in a very long time.

“Okay,” Sam replied. “That’s fine. We’ll just have to make sure you eat something for lunch.” If Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d say that sounded like concern.

But he did know better. No one had been concerned for Tommy Innit since Wilbur, and that concern had crumbled right alongside his sanity.

“I’ve got some questions, though, if you don’t mind.”

Tommy minded, he minded a lot, actually, he didn’t want to answer any questions, he didn’t want to- “Sure.”

Sam moved the eggs from the pan he was cooking them in and onto a plate. “I know you’ve already mentioned it, but I do have roommates. Sapnap and George. I don’t know when they’ll be back, but it probably won’t be for a while.”

Ah. There it was. “That’s fine. I can go, if you want.” Sam gave him a funny look. “What? That’s where you were going with this, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Sam said. “I was just making sure you knew so it wasn’t a surprise if they came back home.”

“Oh,” Tommy frowned. “Okay. I mean, that’s fine. It’s your fucking house, Sam, what does it matter?”

Sam sat down at the table across from Tommy. “It matters because I think it’s important that you feel comfortable here.”

That threw Tommy for a loop. He couldn’t remember if anyone had ever said something like that to him. Comfort had never really been a priority in… anywhere Tommy called home, really.

Seemingly oblivious to Tommy’s surprise, Sam continued, “Though, if it makes you feel any better, Sapnap doesn’t seem to be Dream’s biggest fan at the moment. Not after what he said during your trial.”

Dream had said a lot of things at Tommy’s trial. “Was it… oh, the bit about Dream not caring about anything on the server? Sapnap seemed kind of upset about that when he came to visit me. Kept asking if I thought Dream meant it.”

“Do you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think Dream meant it?”

Tommy snorted. “Well, yeah, obviously. Green prick wants power, it’s all he cares about. That’s why he wants my discs so badly. Gives him power over me, power over the server, power over everything. You know, typical villain shit. Because he’s a villain.”

Sam nodded. “I see.” He took a thoughtful bite of his breakfast before continuing. “So, do you think you’d be okay with George and Sapnap knowing you’re here?”

“Gonna find out eventually, aren’t they?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Sam said. “I’m not going to tell anyone that you’re here unless you are one-hundred percent comfortable with it. If you don’t want George and Sapnap to know, then we’ll work something out, but it’s up to you.”

Tommy let his bandaged arms rest on the table, fixing Sam with a critical gaze, searching desperately for some kind of deception. “You mean that? You wouldn’t tell anyone I’m here if I told you not to?”

“I haven’t even told Puffy,” The disbelief Tommy felt must have shown on his face, because Sam added, “I’m serious about this, Tommy. I want you to feel safe here.”

Like Tommy had ever felt safe anywhere in his life. “Appreciate that, Big Man.” Now the only question was, did Tommy want anyone to know he was here?

Sam said Sapnap wasn’t too friendly with Dream anymore. That made sense, Tommy supposed, since Dream hadn’t exactly been friendly with Sapnap, either. Or anyone, for that matter.

Except for Tommy, obviously. He’d been friendly to Tommy, visited him every day during exile. Almost every day. And only to blow up his things, but it was still more effort than anyone else put in.

Sapnap had seemed so upset when Tommy said Dream didn’t care about anything on the server… and George was probably just as hurt. Maybe. George might not trust Dream anymore.

Then again, Tommy had been the one to burn George’s house. He and Ranboo didn’t mean for the fire to spread, and he’d put it out as soon as he saw it, but that had still been enough to get him exiled. Maybe George would still be pissed off at him. And part of Tommy thought, maybe, that wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe George would get angry at him. Sam’s patience seemed endless, but it was only a matter of time before the facade fell, and the anticipation was killing Tommy. He’d prefer the anger. At least with anger he knew what to expect.

But what if they told Dream? Sapnap might not, but George probably would. That could be a problem, because then Dream would come get Tommy, and he needed to be away from Dream.

Not because Tommy was scared of Dream, of course. Why would he be afraid of Dream? Dream was his friend. He just wanted to be away from Dream. Very far away. Which was definitely a normal thing to happen with friends, sometimes.

“Tommy?”

“No,” Tommy said quickly. “Don’t- don’t tell them. George and Sapnap, I mean. Please.” He glanced away, embarrassed at how scared he had sounded. “You can tell Puffy, I guess. She’s nice. I trust her, I think.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You think you trust her?”

Tommy hesitated, “Well, she hasn’t given me a reason not to trust her. Which is more than I can say for most people on the server.” It was hard to really trust people. After what Eret did. After what Technoblade did. After what Wilbur did. After what Tubbo did. After what Dream did. After-

“I’ll call her now, then,” Sam said. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to know you’re here. She’s been pretty worried about you.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Tommy replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I’m sure she was just so worried.”

“You sound like you don’t quite believe that,” Sam said absently, already pulling out his communicator.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “What the fuck would she be worried about? I’m a big man. I can take care of myself.” Not to mention literally nobody had seemed too worried about him in exile. Puffy wasn’t an exception. She hadn’t visited. Hadn’t talked to him. How worried could she possibly have been?

Sam shrugged. “I’m sure Puffy knows that you can take care of yourself, but she’s always been a bit protective when it comes to these kinds of things. She’s got a couple of kids of her own, you know, so it makes sense that she’d be a little worried about you being by yourself in exile.”

“Wasn’t by myself,” Tommy muttered. “I had Dream.”

There was a pause. “Right,” Sam said. “Dream.” He pressed Puffy’s name on the communicator. “Still, she’ll be happy to hear you’re safe.”

“Of course I’m safe,” Tommy said, quickly shifting his arms off the table. “Totally safe.”

“Totally safe,” Sam echoed, though he didn’t seem very convinced.

Tommy slumped in his chair, trying to keep as many of his injuries as possible out of sight. Why did bandages have to be so fucking noticeable?

“Hey, Sam!” Puffy greeted. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Puffy. Nothing much, just got a… surprise visitor last night,” Sam said. Tommy thought that was a very funny way of saying ‘I found a teenager lurking outside my house’.

“Oh, yeah? And who would this surprise visitor be?”

Sam held the communicator out to Tommy. “Do you want to say hi?”

Tommy blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d used a communicator. Dream had taken his, assuring him that he wouldn’t need to contact anyone outside of Logstedshire. Not like anyone had been trying to get into contact with him, anyway.

Was this a test of some kind? Would Sam be angry if he actually took it? Tommy decided not to risk anything. “Hello, Puffy,” he said, making no move to take the communicator.

“What the- is that Tommy?” Puffy gasped. “Tommy! Oh, my god. It’s so good to hear from you, kiddo, how have you been?”

“Uh… fine.” Sam set the communicator in the middle of the table. “I’ve been fine. I’m out of Logstedshire now, so.”

“That’s good to hear,” Puffy said in relief. “I wish I could have visited, but no one would tell me where Logstedshire was, and then I was gone for a while looking for totems, and then I heard nobody was visiting Logstedshire at all.” She sighed. “I can’t believe Dream wasn’t letting you have visitors.”

Tommy blinked. “What the fuck are you talking about? I was allowed to have visitors, it’s just- they didn’t… after the first couple weeks or so, nobody fucking showed up.” Sam gave Tommy an odd look, and Puffy was quiet. “What? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“Tommy,” Sam said slowly. “Puffy tried visiting you.”

“No, she didn’t,” Tommy said immediately. “Because if she had tried visiting, Dream would have told me. Dream would have told her where I was. I was allowed to have visitors, I tried- I tried inviting people, but nobody came.”

Puffy hesitated. “Tommy, I asked around L’Manburg, but half of them didn’t even know where Logstedshire was. And the ones that did know--Ranboo, Sapnap, Fundy--they said Dream told everyone you didn’t want any visitors. Anyone that went to Logstedshire got turned away because Dream said they weren’t allowed.”

If Tommy’s head wasn’t spinning before, it absolutely was after Puffy’s statement. “Dream wouldn’t… what are you talking about?”

“Tommy?”

“Are you lying to me?” Tommy asked. “Are you- no, you’re lying, I know you are. You have to be lying, because Dream wouldn’t fucking do that.”

Puffy was quiet for a moment. “I’m not lying, Tommy. As much as it pains me to say it, everything I just said was true. Dream told everyone you didn’t want visitors, and he wouldn’t let anyone come see you.”

Tommy struggled to form an answer. “That doesn’t… I don’t understand. I never told Dream I didn’t want anyone to visit. Why would he- why would he tell people that?”

“Maybe we should save this for later,” Sam suggested. “We’ll wait until you get here, Puffy. This feels like a conversation that shouldn’t happen through a communicator.”

“This conversation shouldn’t be happening at all,” Tommy snapped. “Dream is my friend, he wouldn’t do this.” And he was so sure of that. He was so, so sure.

Dream might have taken his things, destroyed everything he made, blown up Logstedshire, but he wouldn’t lie… would he?

A quiet whimper pulled him from his thoughts. Fran stared up at him with wide eyes, placing her head in Tommy’s lap and blinking innocently. Tommy patted her head and cleared his throat. “Sorry. For just… yeah. I’m sorry. My head’s been all spinny since I got up.”

“It’s alright, Tommy,” Puffy assured him, and he wanted to believe her so badly. “We’ll talk more when I come over, okay? It’ll be a week or so, I’m helping someone out right now, looking for some more totems, but after that I’d be happy to come over.”

“Okay…” Tommy said slowly, waiting for her or Sam to scold him for snapping just moments before. “See you then.”

Sam stood from the table and walked away, still mumbling into the communicator. He trusted Sam enough to know that the man wasn’t conspiring with Puffy about anything nefarious, but he still felt antsy knowing that they were probably talking about him.

When Sam returned, he looked almost hopeful, quickly sitting down and addressing Tommy. “Puffy just reminded me of something.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. “Yeah?”

“My son, Quackity. Are you on good terms with him?”

“Quackity? Sure. I mean, I don’t have anything against the guy,” Tommy mused. “He was one of the few people that actually tried to stop Tubbo from exiling-” He blinked, finally processing Sam’s statement. “Hold on, Big Q is your son?”

Sam laughed. “I know it’s strange.”

“Not that strange,” Tommy said. “I’m just… surprised, I guess.”

“Not that strange, huh?” Sam asked, “The creeper hybrid with a duck hybrid for a son isn’t that strange?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Look, you literally can't surprise me with weird family trees, alright? My brother fucked a salmon named Sally, and ended up with a fox for a son, and don’t even get me started on Wilbur’s mother.”

“Well, now I’m curious,” Sam said. “Who was Wilbur’s mother?”

“You really want to know?” Tommy asked. “It’s, like, top secret lore. Not a lot of people on the server know.” Sam blinked, waiting for an answer. “Fine, fine, I’ll tell you.” He tried to remain stone-faced, but his lips curled into a small smile anyway. “Philza Minecraft fucked a Samsung Smart Refrigerator and then Wilbur was born.”

Sam laughed incredulously. “No, he did not.”

“It’s true!” Tommy protested. “Or, that’s what Phil says, anyway. But he also claims to have fallen in love with Death at some point, so who knows.”

“Let me get this straight,” Sam said. “An avian hybrid and a refrigerator made Wilbur, who got with Sally the Salmon and made Fundy, who is a fox hybrid?”

Tommy shrugged. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Sam shook his head. “You have a weird family, Tommy. At least I can explain that Quackity was adopted, but I have no idea what to do with the information you just provided me.” He smiled. “What did Phil get with to make you? A toaster?”

“What?” Tommy asked in confusion. “What are you… Oh! You think-” He burst into laughter. “I’m not related to Phil.”

“But you said Wilbur was your brother,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “My adopted brother. He sort of just… picked me up one day, and we stuck together after that. But I’m not related to him, like, biologically or anything.” Tommy waved a hand flippantly. “Anyway, enough about that. You were saying something about Big Q?”

Sam stared at Tommy for a moment, his expression hard to identify. “Do you think you’d be okay with Quackity knowing your location?” he asked finally. “I won’t call him if you don’t want me to, but I know for a fact that he was worried when you got exiled.”

Tommy hesitated. “He won’t… like, try and tell anyone where I am, right?”

“Not if you don’t want him to,” Sam confirmed.

Tommy thought for a moment. He did miss Big Q, and it would be nice to have someone else in his corner. First Sam, then Quackity, possibly Puffy in a week or so. Not that he trusted them, yet, but maybe he could learn to. Eventually.

Some part of him knew he already would. He’d stay with Sam and Quackity for a few days, they'd be nice to him for a little while, and then he’d trust them. He knew himself well enough to be able to predict it. And that, quite possibly, is what scared him more than anything.

Because he knew that as soon as he trusted them, he’d be betrayed, abandoned, or manipulated. It was the same thing that always happened, so he knew that there was no way to prevent it from happening. He might as well just let fate run its course. It’d be nice to have the company, anyway, at least for a little bit.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. “Yeah. I think I’d like having Big Q around.” He reopened his eyes and grinned. “We can talk about drugs and women, just like the good old days in the drug van.”

Sam recoiled. “I’m sorry, the what?”

Tommy snickered. “Oh, just wait until you hear about this one, big man. Wilbur and I used to have a drug van, and it was so fucking poggers.”

They spent the rest of the morning talking about the drug van, though Tommy steered clear of what happened afterwards. The countries, the politics, anything Dream-related. And at some point, maybe after Tommy told him the story of Fundy telling Sapnap “Fuck 12”, Sam had offered him an apple.

He took it without thinking. And it wasn’t until he was heading back to the room Sam was letting him stay in, with Fran close behind, that he realized Sam had gotten him to eat something after all.

And he hadn’t asked for anything except a conversation.

Tommy thought that was strange. He almost wanted to be angry, seeing as how Sam had technically just tricked him into eating, but he decided against it. If he didn’t acknowledge it, then it didn’t happen. Sam’s kindness was only as real as Tommy let it be.

Notes:

What's that? Tommy might not be an annoying little shit if you're honest with him, don't have ulterior motives, and actually show, like, just an ounce of human decency? Incredible. What a concept.

Chapter 5: The First Clue

Notes:

Sam is doing a *concern* about Tommy.

Getting Tommy to eat an apple was a small victory but, at this point, Sam was taking what he could get. If anything, it was nice to hear Tommy talk about… literally anything except war. God, Sam didn’t want to think about how much war Tommy had seen.

Tommy didn’t seem entirely keen on thinking about it either, if his complete avoidance of the subject had been any indication. Although, Sam could just as easily assume Tommy was just avoiding the subject of Dream. Maybe he was avoiding both.

Eventually, Tommy got tired of talking (or, rather, he was just tired) and went back to his room. Sam hadn’t argued, didn’t bother trying to make him stay up. It was clear that Tommy needed the rest. They could work on the teenager’s sleep schedule a different day.

One step at a time, Sam told himself. Tommy needed to be comfortable in the house before anything else.

It wasn’t that he particularly cared about the difficulty of the situation, helping a teenager was far from a daunting task. He had, after all, raised Quackity, so he wasn’t going into the endeavor completely inexperienced. The loud, brash behavior was manageable. Expected, even. Sam actually welcomed it more than anything. Tommy’s boisterous--sometimes abrasive--personality wasn’t what worried him about the situation.

What worried him was the way Tommy flinched when he moved too fast. The way he would subtly shift to stand in a defensive position if Sam came too close. The way he looked so afraid, even when he was laughing at his own stories.

Sam didn’t know what to do about that. But he figured the first step was rest.

Once Tommy had disappeared into his room, Sam pulled out his communicator for the second time that morning and called his son. It had been a while since they’d talked, shortly after Tommy had been exiled. He wished he could call with better news.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Quackity,” Sam greeted. “How’ve you been?” A stuttering sigh gave Sam pause. “Quackity? Are you okay?”

“No, Sam, I’m- nothing’s okay, actually, everything’s gone to shit-”

“Hey,” Sam interrupted gently. “Easy, Quackity. Tell me what’s going on. What’s happening over in L’Manburg that’s got you so worked up?”

Quackity let out a laugh that sounded almost hysterical. “L’Manburg? No, it’s- it’s Logstedshire, Sam. It’s gone. Everything’s gone. And Tommy-” He cursed under his breath, “Fuck, Sam. It wasn’t… this wasn’t supposed to happen. I told Tubbo exile was a bad idea, but he didn’t fucking listen and his best friend is… he’s just gone.”

“Tommy?” Sam asked curiously. “If you’re worried about Tommy, he’s okay. I haven’t seen Logstedshire recently, so I don’t know what’s happened, exactly, but Tommy is here with me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. “Are you- say that again.”

“Tommy’s okay,” Sam repeated. ”He’s- well, I don’t know that he’s okay okay, but he’s safe. Dream was… less than pleasant during exile, from what I can gather.”

“Sam, everyone in L’Manburg thinks that Tommy is dead.”

Sam blinked. “What?”

“Tubbo went to visit Logstedshire last night, and it was blown to hell,” Quackity told him. “The house Ghostbur built is gone, Tommy’s tent, all of it. The only thing there is… it’s just this cobblestone tower, Sam, it’s not good for anything except being tall. We thought- I mean, we just assumed that…” Sam let Quackity have a moment to collect his thoughts. “But you’re saying he’s okay, right? He’s with you? He’s not-”

“No,” Sam assured him quickly. “He’s not. He’s alive and safe and with me.” Then he remembered his conversation with Tommy. “Don’t tell anyone he’s here, though. He doesn’t want anyone to know where he is.”

“Is that a joke?” Quackity asked, his voice still thick with tears. “Tubbo thinks his best friend is dead. Permanently. And I’m just supposed to… what? Not tell him that the most important person in his life is alive and well?”

“Tommy is alive, Quackity, but he is not well,” Sam said. “Tommy is running from Dream, and if what you’re saying about Logstedshire is true, I can see why. He doesn’t trust anyone, not even me. He’s worried we’ll tell Dream where he is, or that someone else will, so he wants to stay as low-profile as possible for a while.”

“Tubbo wouldn’t tell Dream,” Quackity insisted. “He already feels bad enough for sending Tommy away in the first place, there’s no way he’d tell Dream where Tommy is.”

“I know Tubbo probably wouldn’t,” Sam admitted. “But Tommy doesn’t know that. He can’t trust it, not after Tubbo sent him away like he did.”

Quackity sighed. “This is fucked. This is so, so fucked.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’m guessing I can’t tell Karl or Sapnap, either?”

“No one,” Sam emphasized. “Not until Tommy is ready to trust people again.”

“How long will that be?” Quackity asked. “This is Tommy we’re talking about, he’s the most trusting person on the whole damn server. The kid trusted Wilbur, of all people. I’m pretty sure the only person he didn’t trust was Dream. And maybe Eret, for a while, but I think they made up, somewhat.”

Sam hummed. “The kind of trust Tommy will give other people is dangerous, Quackity, especially when the wrong people have it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tommy keeps calling Dream his friend.”

“Even after what happened to Logstedshire?”

“He says Dream did it for a good reason,” Sam explained. “He keeps saying he deserved it. I don’t know how, but Dream managed to manipulate Tommy into trusting him, and then he weaponized it. Like I said, trust is dangerous for Tommy.”

Quackity heaved a frustrated sigh. “I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch,” he muttered. “Okay, so, Tommy doesn’t trust a lot of people to know his location. I got that. But you’re telling me where he is, so…”

“Tommy says you’re on good terms. That you were one of the few people who were openly against the idea of having him exiled.”

“I saw what it did to him the first time,” Quackity said bitterly. “He didn’t deserve to go through it twice.”

Sam shuddered just thinking about Pogtopia. He’d heard that Wilbur had also been less than pleasant during exile. “Well, it was enough that Tommy trusts you with his location. Any time you want to visit, you’re more than welcome.”

“Oh, I’m coming right now,” Quackity said. “As soon as you said ‘Tommy is at my house’, I was walking.”

“Okay, just…” Sam glanced in the direction of Tommy’s room. “Try to be quiet, alright? Tommy’s sleeping. Or he’s trying to anyway. I want to let him rest as much as possible.”

“Sam, you live in, like, a small fortress. Your front door is the loudest thing in existence,” Quackity deadpanned. “There’s no way I’m getting in your house quietly.”

Sam chuckled. “Fair enough, but you know what I mean.”

Quackity sighed. “Look, I’m pissed off, but I’ll keep the angry yelling to a minimum. I’m not saying I won’t yell, I’m just saying I won’t yell much.”

“Of course.”

There was a moment of quiet. Sam could hear Quackity’s footsteps through the communicator. “Sam?”

“Hm?”

“How bad… you remember how I was after Schlatt, right? After everything?” Quackity asked. “And now with Tommy, it’s- it’s not good, I know. Believe me, I know, but I want to be prepared, so… how bad is he, exactly?”

Sam sat down on the couch in the living room, trying to think of how to best explain. “There’s no way to prepare you. I can tell you what I see when I look at him, but it’s still not gonna be enough, Quackity. Whatever Dream did, the damage is so much deeper than physical. I can’t explain it.”

“Try?” Quackity insisted. “Please?”

Try. Okay. “Tommy… he’s scared, Quackity,” Sam said. “And it’s not a fixable kind of scared. He’s scared of something that I can’t see. He flinches at everything, he’s barely eaten, and he thought- he won’t even take a healing potion for his injuries because he’s afraid of the consequences.”

“What consequences?” Quackity asked slowly. “Why the fuck does he think there are consequences to getting healed?”

“That’s what I’m telling you: I don’t know.” Sam felt a little like ripping his own hair out. He wasn’t used to dealing with unsolvable problems. He was a builder. He fixed things. But he couldn’t fix something if he didn’t know what the problem was; he couldn’t help Tommy if the teenager refused to open up. “Something happened in exile. That’s all I know.”

Quackity cursed under his breath. “After we get done executing Techno, we’re going after Dream next, I swear to god-”

“You're trying to execute Technoblade?" Sam asked in surprise. "Isn't he peaceful now?"

"Who cares if he's peaceful now?" Quackity spat. "He still released two withers on L'Manburg."

"You're forcing a warrior out of retirement," Sam clarified.

Quackity snorted. "He can stay in retirement, Sam. I'm just tired of people doing shit on this server and getting away with it. This isn't just petty revenge, it's making sure he gets the proper consequences for what he did. After that? I don't give a single fuck what he does."

Sam leaned back on the couch, not liking the hostility in Quackity’s tone. "Proper consequences, huh? So, there's gonna be a proper trial?" When Quackity didn't immediately respond, Sam prompted him again, "You're going to give Technoblade a trial, right?"

"We already know he's guilty!" Quackity exclaimed. "Why should he get a proper trial? We didn't even get a proper conversation before he tried destroying everything. Besides, we've had to postpone, anyway. Tubbo is a little busy planning… Tommy's funeral." Quackity laughed bitterly. "Which, I guess, he doesn't technically need to be doing."

Suddenly, Sam was grateful that Quackity was coming over. It gave Tommy another ally and Sam a chance to talk Quackity down. If he could. Hopefully, he could.

Fran barking made Sam sit up. “What’s she barking at now?”

“Something wrong?”

Sam sighed. “No, Fran’s just barking at something. Probably a zombie.” A distant explosion made him chuckle. “Never mind, it was a creeper. Just heard the explosion.”

“How do you know it was a creeper?” Quackity asked. “Could’ve been someone setting off TNT.” Sam raised an eyebrow, waiting for his son to connect the dots. “Oh, wait… you’re part creeper. Never mind.”

Fran’s barking stopped abruptly, the sound of her claws on the floor making Sam look down the hallway.”Oh, here she comes.” He smiled as Fran came barrelling into the room. “Hey, girl. Barking at all the mean old creepers outside?”

“I don’t wanna hear you baby-talk your dog, man,” Quackity complained.

Sam almost commented about how Quackity baby-talked at Fran just as much as he did, but an anxious whine cut him off. “Fran? What’s wrong?”

“Sam?”

“Hang on, Q.” Sam stood, watching Fran pace the living room for a moment before walking back to the hallway. “Fran, what is it?” She barked once, taking a couple steps down the hallway before turning back to Sam. “Quackity, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

“Sam, don’t you dare hang up this call,” Quackity said, and Sam could hear him start to run. “Are you guys okay?”

Following Fran down the hallway, Sam started to put some pieces together. “I’m fine, but I think there’s something wrong with-” He watched Fran run into the newly occupied room. “Tommy.”

“Tommy?” Quackity cursed. “Hang on, I’ll be there soon, just-” The communicator cut out, meaning Quackity must have either hung up or jumped through a portal.

Whatever the case, Sam pocketed the communicator and carefully walked into Tommy’s room. “‘Tommy? Are you okay?”

Tommy was sitting on his bed with his hands clamped over his ears. His eyes were open, but he didn’t appear to be registering anything. Fran jumped onto the bed and made a soft sound, but Tommy did nothing to show that he could see her, or even sense her presence on the bed.

Sam carefully made his way to the bed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Tommy?” he asked quietly. “Can you hear me? Tommy?”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I- I didn’t mean to, Dream, please-”

“Hey,” Sam interrupted gently. “It’s Sam, Tommy. It’s just Sam.”

Tommy’s hands moved to grip at his hair, his gaze still unfocused. “No, no, no… Ghostbur worked so hard to build Logstedshire, that’s not- that’s not fair, Dream.”

Tubbo went to visit Logstedshire last night, and it was blown to hell.

Explosions. Sam closed his eyes, struggling to keep his expression as neutral as possible. Tommy had said before that Dream had blown things up in Logstedshire, specifically as some form of punishment, but he hadn’t realized that the masked man had blown Logstedshire up in its entirety. It was his first clue to figuring out what exactly had happened during Tommy's exile.

And then there was still the question of the cobblestone tower.

One step at a time.

“It was just a creeper, Tommy,” Sam reassured him. “It was outside, and it can’t hurt you. Nothing in here is ever going to explode like that, okay?”

“Was it Dream?” Tommy asked, his voice pitched up with panic. “Was it- fuck.” He started frantically pulling at his bandages. “I need to- Sam, he can’t-”

Sam, afraid that Tommy might reopen his injuries, reached out and grabbed one of Tommy’s wrists without thinking. “Tommy, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

And then Tommy froze. His eyes widened, and his unsteady breathing stilled. Sam, quickly realizing his mistake, loosened his grip on Tommy’s wrist, turning his hand over to let the teenager’s hand rest on his palm. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Fran tucked herself underneath Tommy’s arm, leaning into him until he jolted in surprise. It took him another moment or two before he seemed to realize where he was. “Sam?” He asked nervously. “Sam, what- what the fuck?”

“Creeper,” Sam explained. 

Tommy ripped his hand away from Sam like the man might burn him. Which was fine, Sam wasn’t offended. It was why he had turned his hand palm-up in the first place: to give Tommy the option of no contact. “Sorry! Sorry. Didn’t mean to, uh… freak out. Like that.”

“It’s okay,” Sam told him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Fran whined, and Tommy let his hovering hand rest on her back. “Sure, yeah, just… fucking- I don’t know what happened. Felt… wrong.” He shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”

Sam nodded. “Then we won’t.” He glanced down at Tommy’s arm. “We should probably change your bandages, huh? I should have done it earlier, when you first woke up, but I got distracted with our conversation.”

Tommy was pointedly not looking at the bandages he’d just ripped, seemingly trying to ignore the way they hung loosely off his arms. “Jeez, Sam, are you always this forgetful?” he grumbled. Sam let the aggressive tone slide.

“Not usually,” Sam replied. “But I also don’t usually have such good company.” He pulled some fresh bandages from his inventory. They’d been in there since the previous night, and he hadn’t bothered to take them out. He had a feeling they were going to become a more permanent part of his inventory until Tommy’s arms were better. “Did you guys really put a flaming hot-dog on the top of your caravan?”

“First of all,” Tommy said, holding out an arm before Sam could ask, “it was called the Camarvan. And second of all… yeah, we did.” He gave a small smile. “I’ll be honest, it was so fucking long ago that I- I don’t even remember why it was up there.”

Sam’s communicator went off, and Tommy tensed. “It’s okay,” Sam said quickly. “It’s just Quackity.” He accepted the call, leaving it on speaker for Tommy to hear. “Hey, Q.”

“Sam, I’m gonna break down your door.”

“Please, don’t,” Sam said. “The button to open the door is in the same place it always is.” Tommy flinched when the sound of the door opening reached them, but otherwise didn’t move. “We’re in the new room, the one right across from George’s.”

The communicator went dead, and Quackity’s voice rang through the house, “Sam! Tommy, my man!” Sam was relieved to hear that any trace of anger in Quackity’s voice was gone. He assumed Quackity had toned it down for Tommy’s sake, and knew it’d be back as soon as the two of them got a chance to talk alone.

Tommy’s face lit up at the sight of Quackity appearing in the doorway. “Big Q!” he exclaimed. “I’d wave, but Sam is holding my arm hostage.”

“You won’t let me use a potion,” Sam pointed out. “Therefore, your arm is mine.”

“Fuck you, bitch! Can’t have my arm.”

Quackity flopped on the bed next to Tommy, momentarily jostling both the teen and the dog. “Not cool, Sam. Big Man’s gotta have his arms!”

Sam smiled and rolled his eyes. “He can have his arms back when I’m done wrapping them.”

The easy-going demeanor from Quackity faded a bit as his eyes trailed over the burns and other assorted injuries. “So. What happened there?”

“An accident,” Tommy replied immediately. Unlike Quackity, his nonchalance was holding up, no matter how transparently fake it was. “Nothing to worry about, really.”

Quackity was quiet for a moment. “I saw Logstedshire, you know.”

The hand not being held hostage by Sam curled into a fist. “Good for you.”

“What the hell happened, man?”

“Quackity,” Sam said. “We’re not talking about Logstedshire until Tommy is ready.” He took Tommy’s other arm and began removing the old bandages to replace them. “Besides, Tommy was just telling me about the, uh… what’d you call it? Caramel Van?”

Tommy breathed out a laugh. “It was called the Camarvan, you dickhead.” Sam didn’t miss the way Quackity caught his gaze, a silent demand to discuss Logstedshire. They would, eventually. At some point, there would just be no avoiding it.

For now, though, Quackity had more memories to share about the drug van. And while Sam couldn’t say he exactly approved of the pastime, it was clearly a better memory than Logstedshire, and welcome distraction.

And if Sam teased Quackity for baby-talking at Fran just because it made Tommy laugh, that was nobody’s business but theirs.

Notes:

Quackity is also doing a *concern* about Tommy, except angrier.

Chapter 6: Trial and Error

Notes:

If you've got trauma and you know it, clap your hands.

Quackity left Tommy’s room with Sam, leaving the teenager with Fran and newly bandaged arms. It made him sick to think about where those burns came from. It made him angry. More than that, he was worried. Tommy Innit wasn’t ever someone he had to worry about before, because the kid had always been… fine.

Maybe not as fine as he’d thought.

He followed Sam into the living room and, once he was sure Tommy couldn’t hear, grabbed his father’s arm. “Sam. Talk to me. Now.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know much. I know what you told me, I know what Puffy told me, and that’s about it. Honestly, that much already sounds bad, but between what I saw yesterday and what happened right before you got here, there’s probably more than that.”

“What did happen?” Quackity asked. “He looked really shaken up. You said it was a creeper explosion?”

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed. “And Tommy thought… he thought it was Dream. Kept telling Dream to stop, that it wasn’t fair, and that Ghostbur had worked so hard to build Logstedshire, and…” Sam’s eyes hardened just the slightest bit. You wouldn’t have been able to spot it unless you knew Sam well enough, but he was furious. “Dream blew up Logstedshire. He made Tommy watch.”

Quackity felt the rage in his chest expand, the wings under his shirt ruffling a bit. “But why the hell would Dream blow up Logstedshire?”

Sam sat down on the couch, motioning for Quackity to do the same. “Control, if I had to guess. We called Puffy earlier, and she mentioned that Dream said Tommy didn’t want any visitors.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Tommy said he never told Dream he didn’t want visitors,” Sam said. “The opposite, actually. Tommy was trying to invite people to come see him. And if Dream was stopping that from happening, then-”

“Then Tommy thinks nobody gave a shit,” Quackity finished. “Can we- I’m going to punch Dream, Sam. I’m going to punch him in his stupid face so hard that his mask snaps in half.”

Sam chuckled under his breath. “I’ve had the same thought.” He turned to rummage through a chest, pulling out new bandages and putting them in his inventory. “I do think there’s a bit of a line, though. Tommy deserves to get the first few hits.”

Quackity grumbled, but agreed. He was already pissed at what Dream had managed to get away with. Blowing up Logstedshire? Keeping visitors from Tommy? Bullshit. But the implication that there might still be more than that made Quackity want to scream, or curse, or maybe even cry.

“Got any new projects?” Quackity asked, attempting to keep himself distracted. “I’m thinking about trying some new build ideas.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Las Nevadas?” At Quackity’s nod, Sam smiled warmly. “You’re really trying to go all out on this little city of yours, huh?

“Of course, I am. It’s for Karl and Sapnap,” Quackity said. "Well, it's for all my friends, but- I mean, they're my fiances, you know?"

"I know," Sam said lightly. "You only tell me every single time you visit."

Quackity felt his face heat up, not from embarrassment, exactly, but something akin to it. "Shut up, Sam." He nudged the creeper hybrid in the arm. "Do you have any new projects or not?"

Sam hummed. "Nothing in particular, I finished with my last big commission a few days ago, but there's a couple of new redstone tricks I could show you. I got to experiment a little with my last project."

Redstone. Extremely difficult to work with. A great distraction. "Show me."

They spent the better part of the next two hours in Sam’s workshop trying--and failing, on Quackity's part--to set up some redstone ideas for Las Nevadas. He liked the door ideas, and the lights were cool, but he had no idea how Sam was making them work.

“Don’t be discouraged, Quackity,” Sam said reassuringly as Quackity tossed aside a piece of stone in frustration. “Even I have a hard time with redstone.”

"You'd think I'd be better at this," Quackity muttered, “considering I was raised by the best builder in the SMP.” He’d spent hours in Sam’s workshop, watching the creeper hybrid build. Maybe less watching, and more wandering aimlessly and making idle conversation while Sam worked, but still. "God, I wish this wasn't so difficult to work with, it's so fucking cool."

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Sam said, idly flipping a light on and off. “The redstone is not impressed.”

Quackity rolled his eyes. “Fuck the redstone, then. If I can’t seduce it, what’s the point?”

Sam laughed. “You’re ridiculous, Q.” He started to pull the mechanism apart to show Quackity how to do it again. “So, how have things been with Sapnap and Karl?”

“Great. Well, they’ve been gone a lot, but it’s still great.” Quackity ginned. “Gives me more time to work on their surprise.”

“They’ve been gone?” Sam asked curiously. “Where are they going?”

Quackity waved a hand flippantly. “Oh, you know. Places. Karl goes… wherever. He just, like, fucking disappears sometimes, but he’s always home in a few days.” He watched Sam work with the redstone carefully, trying to commit the process to memory. “I have no idea with Sapnap, though. I assume he just wants space after… everything with Dream.”

Sam’s expression was unreadable through the goggles. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Quackity sighed. “They were best friends, you know. George and Sapnap and Dream? Dream going batshit crazy hasn’t exactly been easy for Sapnap.” HIs grip tightened around a small piece of stone. “And as much as I hate Dream for what he did to Tubbo and Tommy and everyone else, I love Sap more, so… been trying to keep my shit together.”

“I’m sure he appreciates that, Q,” Sam commended him.  “I can’t believe you still don’t know where Karl disappears to. Does Sapnap know?”

Quackity shook his head. “He’s tried asking, but Karl is all secretive about it.”

“Have you tried asking?”

“Nah,” Quackity replied. “If it’s important, he’ll tell us. As long as he’s not getting himself hurt, then I’m not worried about it.” He hesitated. “I mean, I’m curious, sure, but everyone’s got secrets, you know? I’m not gonna force him to spill if he’s not ready.”

Quackity had his fair share of secrets after Schlatt. Plenty of people had tried forcing him to share what happened behind closed doors, but there were some secrets that needed time. He didn’t know what kind of secrets his fiance was keeping, he could only hope it wasn’t anything as corrupt and twisted as Schlatt, but he wasn’t going to make Karl talk about it, either.

Even if he was really, really curious. Which he was. But he still wasn’t going to ask.

“Well, I’m glad to hear things are going smoothly for you three,” Sam said. “How is everything else? You know, recent events aside.”

“Yeah, recent events aside,” and Quackity tried so hard not to think of the bruises and scratches that littered Tommy’s too-thin frame, “everything is going pretty okay. We’re gonna have to interrogate Philza soon, though, which will suck.”

Sam looked at him in alarm. “Philza? What’d he do?”

“Nothing, per-se,” Quackity said. “He’s just the only guy that knows where Technoblade is. There’s no way we’ll find him on our own.”

“Oh,” Sam’s alarm turned into concern. “You’re, uh… still planning on doing that, huh? The execution?”

Quackity shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Doesn’t seem like anyone else is gonna hold the bastard responsible. Technoblade is a menace, Sam.”

“A retired menace,” Sam added. Quackity wished Sam would stop adding that. It made Technoblade sound tamer than he was. “I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve consequences,” Sam continued, as if hearing Quackity’s thoughts, “but he’s still a person. He deserves a trial just like everyone else.”

Tommy had gotten a trial. Tommy had been exiled for a prank gone wrong. “What difference do you think it’s going to make? You think trials are fair in L’Manburg?”

“I think they’re supposed to be,” Sam replied.

“Well, they aren’t,” Quackity said. “Just ask Tommy.” He stood and brushed the redstone dust off his hands. “Besides, Technoblade has done far worse things than Tommy ever did.”

“The fuck are you lot talking about?” a groggy voice asked. “Jesus fucking Christ, what time is it?”

Quackity grinned and turned to Tommy. “Hey, man! Have a nice nap?”

Tommy rubbed at his face and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “I was. Until I got woken up.”

Sam started putting the scattered tools and bits of redstone back in his inventory. “By what? Fran? She wasn’t barking again, was she?”

“What? No. I just- I got woken up.” Tommy crossed his arms. “Fran is a perfect dog, Sam, and I am, quite frankly, very shocked that you would accuse her of such a crime.”

A nightmare, Quackity deduced immediately. He could see it in the tired way Tommy held himself. The teenager hadn’t woken up willingly, but he wasn’t brave enough to go back to sleep. It was a feeling he knew all too well. He wondered if Tommy heard Dream’s voice in his nightmares the way he heard Schlatt’s.

“Now what’s all this about Technoblade?” Tommy asked, leaning on the doorway. “That guy’s a bitch, actually. Not worth conversation, if you ask me.”

Quackity wasn’t going to ask. He didn’t want to. Tommy and Technoblade didn’t like each other, that much he knew. He’d been killed in the same burst of color that killed Tubbo, but he respawned in time to hear Tommy screaming at Technoblade, desperately searching for a friend everyone knew he wouldn’t find.

He heard the fucking speech on November 16th.

You want to be a hero, Tommy?

“Funny you should ask,” Quackity said. “We’re actually planning on dealing out some consequences here real soon.”

Tommy blinked. “What are you - what do you mean dealing out some consequences?”

Sam sighed. “Quackity and… apparently a few others?”

“Tubbo, Fundy, and Ranboo,” Quackity confirmed.

“Right.” Sam turned back to Tommy. “They plan on executing Technoblade for what he did to L’Manburg.”

Quackity expected Tommy to laugh. Because wasn’t it funny that, after telling Tommy to die like a hero, it was Technoblade that would lose his life? He expected a joke or two, or maybe just a smile if Tommy was still too tired to process.

Instead, Tommy’s entire body tensed. “You what?” he asked quietly. “You- you aren’t serious, are you? Tell me you’re not fucking serious.”

“Wha- of course, I’m serious.” Quackity’s brow furrowed, bewildered at Tommy’s reaction. “He released two withers on our fucking country, Tommy, he can’t get away with that.”

Tommy laughed, something high and reedy and scared. “He can.” Tommy disagreed, “He can get away with it, Big Q. And you- you shouldn’t- don’t fucking go after him. Don’t.”

Sam stepped forward. “Tommy, easy. Where’s Fran?”

“I don’t- I don’t know where she is. Not here.” Tommy kept his gaze trained on Quackity. “Big Q, Technoblade is- he’s retired, yeah? Can’t you just- just leave him? It’d be easier, right? Just leave him alone.”

Quackity scowled. “I thought you of all people would understand why-”

“Of course I understand why,” Tommy hissed. “That’s why I’m telling to fucking leave it.” His hands reached up to grip his sleeves. “Big Q, you don’t… you don’t know what he did. You dont know what he fucking did, okay? I tried- I wanted him to- to fucking apologize or some shit. For what he did to Tubbo. Consequences.”

Sam pushed up his goggles before addressing the teenager again. “Tommy take a deep breath, okay? You’ve only been awake for a couple of minutes, there’s no need to get yourself worked up.”

“No! No, you- just fucking listen to me,” Tommy said frantically, like he was afraid he wouldn’t get another chance to speak. “You know what he did? When I tried to make him apologize to Tubbo? You wanna take a fucking guess, Big Q?”

Judging by the way Tommy phrased the question, Quackity guessed he didn’t want to know. “What?”

Tommy’s jaw set, anger and fear flashing across his gray irises. “We fought, Big Q. Wilbur made us- he threw us in a pit and made us fight, and Technoblade didn’t- he almost killed me, Big Q.” He took a shaky breath. “Don’t go after him. I know it’s… it’s not fair, but he’ll destroy everything--and I mean everything.”

Quackity hated that Tommy said it with such certainty. Tommy said it with such finality that it made Quackity feel helpless all over again. He just wanted to do something right by this country. He wanted to do something. “Somebody has to hold him responsible,” he said firmly.

“No,” Tommy insisted. “No, Quackity, I’m not kidding. You can’t-”

Sam brushed past Quackity, moving to stand at Tommy’s side. “Okay, maybe you should both calm down a little.”

“Quackity, don’t," Tommy continued, either ignoring Sam or just not having heard him. "You can't beat Technoblade, and I'm- I'm gonna be so pissed off if L'Manburg goes down in flames for a third time. Don’t destroy Tubbo’s home again, Big Q, don’t you fucking dare."

“Wha- I’m not gonna be the one who destroys it,” Quackity protested.

“You will be if you start picking fights with Technoblade!” Tommy shot back. “Even if you take one of his canon lives--which you won’t--what’s gonna stop him from taking revenge? What’s gonna stop him, Big Q? You? I can’t believe Wilbur’s country is being run by a bunch of fucking idiots now!”

Quackity opened his mouth to fire off a response, but Sam cut him off. “That’s enough, Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyes widened, and any spark of defiance that had been in his eyes disappeared. “Sorry,” he breathed. “I didn’t- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry.”

As angry as he wanted to be at Tommy for calling him an idiot, Quackity couldn’t help the concern that pushed its way past the anger. “Hey, man, calm down. Since when do you apologize so much?”

“I don’t! I- I mean, I wasn’t…” Tommy’s brow furrowed. “I wasn’t trying to- what was I saying? I don’t…” He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t- I don’t know what that was. I’m sorry, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

Sam and Quackity glanced at each other, a silent agreement not to point out the fact that Tommy had just apologized again. “Why don’t you go find Fran, Tommy,” Sam suggested. “Quackity and I are gonna finish cleaning up in here, and then we’ll work on making some lunch, okay?”

Tommy nodded slowly. “Fran,” he repeated, clearly the only bit of Sam’s statement that registered. “Right. I’m gonna… go find Fran.”

Quackity watched the teenager practically run away from the workshop. Some part of him was pissed at Tommy. Calling the people who ran Wilbur’s country (like L’Manburg still deserved to be called Wilbur’s country) a bunch of idiots.

But Quackity was smarter than that. It wasn’t Tommy he needed to be angry at. The teenager was aggravating at times, and more abrasive than he meant to be, but Quackity knew him well enough to when Tommy was angry and when he was scared.

He didn’t need to be mad at Tommy. He needed to be mad at whoever scared Tommy. Because if you could scare Tommy--fearless, selfless Tommy, who gave up far more for L’Manburg than Wilbur ever did--then you really had to be some kind of monster.

So far, there weren’t very many people on that list. There were really only two that Quackity could think of, and they were already on his hit list.

Dream. Dream scared Tommy, but that was a later problem.

Technoblade came first.

If Tommy thought he’d scared Quackity off somehow with his story about the pit, he’d be wrong, because Quackity was only more determined to make sure that Technoblade suffered the punishment he deserved.

Sam broke the silence first. “I can see that what Tommy said isn’t going to stop you from going after Technoblade.”

“Hell no,” Quackity agreed.

“But would at least consider the trial?” Sam asked. “Tommy had a point when he said taking one of Techno’s canon lives wouldn’t exactly stop him. He’d come back, and he’d probably come back angry.” He turned to face Quackity. “Tommy knows Techno better than either of us. Maybe not as well as Phil, but… if he says Techno will get revenge-”

“I got it,” Quackity interrupted. “Look, we’ll… I’ll bring up the trial with Tubbo, okay? I’ll talk to Fundy and Ranboo, and see what they say about it. If all three of them agree that a trial would be better, then we’ll have a stupid trial. Deal?”

A look of relief flooded Sam’s eyes. “Deal. Thank you, Quackity.”

Quackity huffed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m mostly doing it for Tommy’s sake.” He kicked at a piece of scrap iron. “He never used to be that scared, you know. It’s not right.”

“I know,” Sam said. 

“How do we fix it?”

Sam hesitated, “He hasn’t even been here for one day, Q. It’s gonna take longer than that to start working through something like this, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Quackity mumbled. “I know. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. I hate it, actually.”

“I bet Tommy hates it more,” Sam pointed out. “Now let’s go find Tommy and Fran, yeah? We need to figure something out for lunch, and Tommy isn’t going to make it easy.”

Quackity snorted. “He’s a growing kid. What sort of teenager isn’t trying to snatch food at any given opportunity?”

“One that’s afraid to be reliant on anyone for anything,” Sam answered. “I barely got him to eat an apple this morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if he started stealing food soon, just to make sure he didn’t have to get it from me.”

Anger threatened to make another appearance, but Quackity pushed it aside. Not yet, he told himself, save the anger for a rainy day. For someone who deserved it. He was angry, sure, and he wasn’t the most patient person, but he wasn’t impulsive. If he made a decision, rest assured he had thought long and hard about it.

He had a plan, and he was going to make sure it didn’t blow up in his face.

After all, Quackity was no Wilbur.

Notes:

And canon has officially been altered. Things are only gonna get crazier from here, folks, let's gooooo.

Chapter 7: Helping Yourself

Notes:

it's three in the morning, sorry if this sucks, i can't type words good.

As much as Tommy pretended that he wasn’t afraid of anything, he knew it was more complicated than that. He was afraid, a fact that he couldn’t share with anyone, but he also knew he had to keep that to himself. Being scared was a weakness.

Tommy couldn’t let anyone know he was afraid. In the wise words of his commander, being scared gets you killed. Not that Tommy much cared about being alive. but orders were orders. Even in death, Wilbur managed to worm his way into Tommy’s head, to give him orders. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, so Tommy decided not to think about it. He actively chose not to think about it.

Which was part of the reason he was struggling to process what had happened in the workshop with Sam and Quackity. He wasn’t scared of Sam or Quackity, logically, he had no reason to be. But he was afraid of… something. Which, again, wasn’t anything he would be willing to admit, but he was.

He was scared.

Luckily, Fran hadn’t been too far away, just in the living room, right where he’d left her. “Hello, Fran,” he greeted, sitting down on the floor next to her. “Sam said to come find you.” Fran immediately got into his face, snuffling at his hair. “Hey! Cut that out,” he laughed, patting the top of her head. “You just saw me five fucking minutes ago, don’t act like you missed me.”

Fran looked up at him with wide brown eyes, her tail gently wagging in contented happiness. Like she was genuinely happy to see him.

Tommy wondered vaguely if Tubbo would be that happy to see him again. Would he look like this? Happy and relieved? Like he’d actually missed Tommy?

Probably not, but he didn’t want to think about that too hard.

“No one’s ever missed me before, I don’t think,” Tommy muttered. He let his hands trail down her back and back up again. “Sounds a bit selfish, but it is nice to be missed, even if it’s just you. Just for a few minutes.” Fran licked his face. “You’re ruining the moment, here.”

It was almost eerie how Fran did that, figuring out when he was spiraling and neutralizing the impending threat. Tommy supposed Sam hadn’t been lying when he called Fran an emotional support dog. It would have been nice to have this before. And sort of did, for a while, with Henry. Until Sapnap killed Henry, anyway.

Tommy was living in Sapnap’s house.

He closed his eyes. There sure was an awful long list of things he didn’t want to think about.

“Hey, Tommy.” He tried not to flinch at the sound of his own name, but his hand still twitched. Like most things that had happened recently, Tommy decided to pretend it didn’t happen, and buried his hand in Fran’s fur to hide the trembling.  No weakness. “You want anything in particular for lunch?”

It’s just Sam, Tommy told himself. It’s just Sam and it's fine. “Not really,” he replied honestly, refusing to look up.

Quackity walked into his line of sight. “You’re really missing out, man. Sam is a great cook.” He shot Tommy a smile, which Tommy didn’t understand. Hadn’t Tommy just yelled at him? “You should really try his potato soup. It’s so fucking good.”

Tommy felt his stomach turn at the suggestion. “Uh… no, that- that’s okay. I don’t want any.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, already moving towards the kitchen. “I wouldn’t mind making some. It wouldn't take too long.”

“Yes!” Quackity whooped, following Sam out of the room. “We’re getting soup, motherfuckers!”

Sam laughed, and Tommy couldn’t see him in the kitchen, but he could imagine the way his eyes crinkled around the edges when he smiled. It was a nice image, and his laugh was far kinder than Wilbur’s.

Wilbur hadn’t always been so unkind. Tommy had good memories of Wilbur, but it hurt to remember his brother as kind, as much as Tommy wanted to remember him that way. Though, really, it hurt to remember Wilbur as cruel, too, so it hardly mattered.

Tommy stood slowly, keeping one hand in Fran’s fur, and walked to join Sam and Quackity in the kitchen. Fran didn’t leave his side. A small comfort. Sam and Quackity hadn’t been anything but friendly, and he didn’t really have a reason to be afraid, but he still found himself afraid of the consequences.

The consequences for what?

Anything, Tommy decided. Everything.

Quackity was talking excitedly with Sam, hardly even noticing that Tommy walked in. He was saying something about Las Nevadas, but Tommy wasn’t paying much attention, far too focused on the knife he was waving around. “I was even thinking about proposing, if you can believe it.”

Sam chuckled. “Aren’t they already your fiances?” Why wasn’t Sam more concerned about the knife?

“Well, yeah,” Quackity said, readjusting his grip on the knife and going back to… peeling potatoes.

Of course, Tommy scolded himself. Of course, that’s all Quackity was doing.  How dare he be suspicious. Dream was right, he was an awful friend.

“But none of us really proposed, you know?” Quackity continued. “We sort of just said ‘yeah, polyamory sounds great’ and then agreed to get married.” He smiled to himself. “This is gonna be different. I’m gonna do it right.”

Tommy sat down at the table, watching Quackity work the knife carefully. “I didn’t know you were engaged, Big Q.”

“Yeah, to Sapnap and Karl.” Tommy scratched Fran behind the ears idly while Quackity talked. “I didn’t know you could be engaged to more than one person, but Karl is so fucking smart. Told us about polyamory and shit, and now I have two fiances.”

“And you… love them?” Tommy asked, the concept still rather new. “Both of them?”

Quackity nodded, setting aside the potato he’d finished peeling and picking up another. “Hell yeah, I do.”

“He really does,” Sam commented. “They’re all he talks about when he comes over.”

Tommy laughed at Quackity’s squawk of protest. “Fucking hell, Big Q! Are you a simp? Do you simp for Karl and Sapnap?”

“Shut up, man,” Quackity laughed. "It's not simping if they're my future husbands.” He shook his head. “I would have proposed sooner, but everyone’s been a little busy, you know?”

“War’s over, Big Q,” Tommy pointed out.

Quackity shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m also helping Tubbo run a country. Doesn’t help that he’s planning your funeral at the moment, so I’m gonna have to really step up.”

Tommy felt his stomach drop through the floor. “He… he’s what?”

Sam glanced over at them. “Q, I haven’t told him about that, yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Tommy asked. “Why- what do you mean Tubbo is planning my funeral?” He knew Tubbo was angry with him, Tubbo had abandoned him with Dream. But surely he wasn’t that angry, right? “Did… did I do something? Did I fuck something up again?”

Quackity set his knife down. “No, Tommy, that’s not- that’s not what I meant, man.” He leaned forward a bit, forcing Tommy to keep eye contact with him. “Tubbo is planning your funeral because he thinks you’re already dead. Everyone does.”

“Quackity,” Sam scolded, “you can’t just drop this on him like that.”

“He- you all thought I was…” Tommy shook his head. “What the hell, man? You guys thought I was dead?” He could feel his already frayed nerves start to unravel again. Where was Fran? Was she still close by? Tommy couldn’t tell.

Sam shot Quackity a glance. “Quackity, this is a sensitive subject right now.”

Tommy wanted to appreciate Sam looking out for his mental state, really, he did, but he was too shocked to care about the consequences this conversation could have. “No, fuck all that. Fucking- a sensitive subject? It better be a sensitive fucking subject, if you all think I died or some shit. In case you haven’t noticed: I’m not dead.”

Quackity sighed in exasperation. “Okay, well, what the hell were we supposed to think, man? Logstedshire is a crater, you were nowhere in sight, and that fucking cobblestone tower-”

“Quackity,” Sam interrupted. “I said we would talk about Logstedshire when Tommy was ready.”

And Tommy was decidedly not ready. He thought he’d be okay enough to discuss Logstedshire, and on some level, he was, but the tower? Not the tower. He couldn’t even think about the tower without his head spinning, much less talk about it.

But… Tubbo thought he was dead. That wasn’t fair to Tubbo, he didn’t think. His best friend was mourning him, holding a funeral, and he wasn’t even dead. Yet.

Was Tubbo really mourning him, though? It’s not like Tubbo had cared, as Dream had so helpfully reminded him: if Tubbo had cared then he would have visited. Maybe they were just holding a funeral out of respect for the dead.

Then where was the funeral for Wilbur? The man who founded the country they lived in. Where was their respect for the dead then? God, L’Manburg was fucked, it was so, so fucked.

Still, fucked as L’Manburg was, did Tommy want to let them believe he was dead? That seemed unnecessarily cruel. Tommy distantly thought that L’Manburg was cruel first, but the thought stayed distant. He couldn’t let himself dwell on it for too long, unless he wanted other less-than-pleasant thoughts to follow. Tommy had deserved exile, but-

Had he really deserved exile? It was an abrupt thought, and one he had often, but he brushed it aside. Tommy had to have deserved it, otherwise he went through months of Dream’s torture for no fucking reason, and Tommy didn’t know if he could handle that realization. So, he reasoned that he deserved it.

For a prank gone wrong? Where were the consequences when his house got griefed? Who got punished for blowing up his house on purpose? Who got exiled for that? Nobody, Tommy knew, because no one cared when it was Tommy’s home that got destroyed.

They don’t care about you, an all too familiar voice whispered. He was inclined to believe it.

“Tommy!” A voice jolted him from his thoughts. “Tommy, breathe, okay? I need you to breathe.” Tommy blinked, suddenly realizing that he was well and truly struggling to take a breath. His vision was blurred, Sam’s worried red eyes becoming nearly unrecognizable crimson pools. His ears were ringing, and it was hard to hear anything over his own heartbeat and it all made him want to panic.

But he didn’t. He knew what this was. He could fix it. He’d seen it happen to Wilbur before, and he knew what to do. Stay calm, don’t panic, don’t cry, no weakness. Simple, really. He was good at fixing this, good enough that he could calm himself down. Between Pogtopia and Logstedshire, he had plenty of practice.

Something warm pressed against his side, but he ignored it. Had he been any more coherent, he might have recognized Fran, but he was too caught up in trying to breathe to realize.

Tommy folded his arms and put his head on the table. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on drawing painfully shallow breaths through the pain in his chest. Someone was saying his name, but he couldn't be bothered to answer them. He had to focus. He had to calm down. Dream never liked it when he was upset.

His stomach lurched at the thought of Dream. He curled his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms until he could feel it. It hurt, but it was something. It was real and he could feel it.

After what felt like hours (but was probably just a few minutes), Tommy felt his shallow breathing start to steady. He lifted his head to see Sam still staring at him, red eyes wide with concern and shock. Quackity was wearing an almost identical expression. “What the hell, man?”

“What?” Tommy asked, his voice shaky from the aftermath of his panic. “The fuck are you looking at?”

Sam blinked at him. “You… Tommy, I think you just had a panic attack.”

Right. That’s what they were called. Wilbur told him that once, but that was a long time ago. “Yeah? So what, Big Man?”

Quackity made a sound of disbelief. “Dude, that's not a so what kind of thing. How long has that been happening?"

“You didn’t even let Fran help you,” Sam added.

Fran whimpered and put her head in Tommy’s lap. Tommy got the feeling she was distressed she hadn’t been able to help, and patted her head as an apology. “I don't know, man. Since my duel with Dream, maybe? It happens all the time.”

Sam studied him for a moment. “Tommy, next time you think you're going to have a panic attack, will you let me know?”

Tommy hesitated. “Why? I can handle it myself."

“Bullshit!” Quackity exclaimed incredulously. “Jesus fucking- no. I’m an adult, I’m a grown man, and I’m lucky enough to have Karl and Sapnap to help me. Hell, before that, it was Tubbo and I helping each other with Schlatt. No fucking way you should be doing that by yourself.”

“Okay, well, I can,” Tommy said defensively. “I don’t see what’s so fucking bad about it.”

Sam lifted a hand placatingly. “Just because you can doesn't mean that you should have to. The circumstances that forced you to learn that skill-”

“I was alone, Sam,” Tommy interjected. “Either I learned to help myself or… or nothing, actually. I just had to learn.” He crossed his arms on the table and let his head rest on top of them, ignoring the painful way it pressed into his bandages. “Look, just- can we drop this? It’s stupid. Just talk about Karl and Fucknap again or something.”

That startled  laugh out of Quackity. “Fucknap?” He went back to peeling potatoes while Sam went back to the pot boiling on the stove. “I’m stealing that nickname, man. It’s gonna drive him nuts.”

Quackity and Sam slipped back into normal conversation, and Tommy chimed in at all the right times and laughed when it was appropriate. It seemed innocent enough, but something had changed. He wasn’t sure what it was--or what he did--but something was different now.

They were tense. The shift in energy was arguably more nerve-wracking than his almost-fight with Quackity just minutes before, because he didn’t know if this change would be good or bad.

And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out.

Notes:

tommy with repressed trauma? in my fic? you bet. projection goes brrrrrrr-

Chapter 8: Casual Conversation

Notes:

sorry 'bout mistakes, am tired and have to go to work.

Watching Tommy pull himself out of a panic attack had been maybe the most worrying thing Sam had seen from the teen so far, which was really saying something. He’d been so still, nearly statuesque, aside from the trembling. Sam swore Tommy’s palm would start bleeding from how hard he was digging his nails in.

If Tommy could hear him, it clearly hadn’t registered. At all. He didn’t even react when Fran bumped her head into his side, trying to ground him to the present. Sam had to physically stop her from crawling into the chair with him.

Quackity had been talking frantically, calling Tommy’s name, asking Sam what he should do, and Sam didn’t have an answer for him. All he could do was watch Tommy struggle to breathe, eyes closed and trying to block out the world. It made Sam feel helpless. He was supposed to be helping Tommy.

He was, once again, very painfully reminded that he didn’t know how to do this.

It seemed like hours before Tommy opened his eyes again, though Sam knew it had only been a few minutes. His hands still shook, and his voice trembled when he spoke, but he seemed… fine. Unnervingly so. He knew what a panic attack looked like, he’d seen plenty. Between George’s nightmares, Sapnap’s war flashbacks, and Quackity’s experience with Schlatt, Sam had the experience to help.

But Tommy had the experience to not need the help. Or maybe he was just afraid to need it. Either way, Sam knew that it was worrisome that Tommy ever had to do it alone. The fact that it might have been a regular thing was worse.

Sam could still see red crescent moons in Tommy’s palm, even from the stove. Pain was a method of grounding oneself, Sam supposed, but it wasn’t a very healthy one. There were safer ways. Lots of them. He just needed to find a method that would work best for Tommy. He was almost certain that Tommy hadn’t used a single healthy coping mechanism in… maybe never.

God, that was a sickening thought.

One thing at a time. Soup first, then a phone call to Puffy. She wouldn’t arrive for another few days, but Sam could still call for advice.

“I’ve got all the potatoes cut, Sam!” Quackity brought over the diced potatoes in a bowl.

Sam took the bowl. “Thanks, Q.” He paused for a moment, glancing over at Tommy. The teenager sat picking at his bandages, still wound tight from his panic attack. The safest place for Tommy, Sam was beginning to realize, was anywhere except in his own head.

And anywhere that wasn’t near Dream, of course, but Sam had that one covered.

“Hey, Tommy?” Sam called. Thankfully, Tommy acknowledged his name this time, glancing over at him. “You wanna help?”

Tommy frowned. “No,” he said immediately. Then, after a moment, “Wait, why?”

“Something to do,” Sam replied easily. “It’s not too hard, anyway.” He turned back to stirring his pot of broth mixture, knowing damn well his smile was hidden behind his mask. “Unless you think you can’t handle a little cooking, then I can just-”

“Fuck you,” Tommy stood, “I can fucking cook.” He moved to stand next to Sam. After about three seconds of silence, he amended, “Can you, like, tell me how to do this shit?”

Quackity jumped up on the counter, sitting and watching in mild amusement while Sam instructed Tommy. “This should be second nature for you, huh? You’ve plenty of experience with cooking.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, dumping the potatoes into the broth with a surprisingly lack of clumsiness. “Making drugs isn’t the same as cooking, Big Q.”

“Eh, close enough,” Quackity replied.

Sam handed Tommy a spoon to stir the soup with. “Okay, but you weren’t actually making drugs with Wilbur, right?” Tommy gave him a funny look. “Wait, really? Wilbur was actually a drug dealer?”

“Uh, yeah?” Tommy went back to focusing on the soup. “Wilbur and me. The drug van wasn’t a joke, it was actually a drug van.”

“Wilbur built a country over a literal drug van?” Sam asked incredulously. “You- what? He fought a war for that?” Saying it out loud sounded ridiculous. The history books had always painted Wilbur as some poetic revolutionist, and Sam had no doubt that he was, but the books failed to mention that Wilbur’s muse had been less ‘justice and independence’ and more ‘fuck you, I sell drugs’.

Tommy’s hand stilled. “I mean… I guess? I think he just didn’t want Dream to control his life, but I never really thought about it too hard.” He resumed stirring. “I never gave a shit about the politics of it all, I just knew L’Manburg was important to my friends. That was all that mattered.”

Quackity snorted. “Well, not the only thing that mattered. What about your discs?”

“What about them?” Tommy asked. “I gave those up, Big Q. Twice, actually.” He set the spoon aside, laughing under his breath. “I think other people have had my discs more than I’ve had them. I’ve thought about getting them back, you know.”

Sam leaned against the counter, watching as Tommy wandered away to pet Fran. “What’s stopping you?”

Tommy hummed, sitting on the floor next to Fran and running a hand through her fur. “Circumstance, mostly. Tubbo has one of my discs, and he probably won’t fucking give back, and Skeppy has the other. Haven’t seen Skeppy in a while.”

Neither had Sam, really. Then again, Sam wasn’t very social outside of his small group of friends.

“Besides, it’s not like they matter, anyway,” Tommy continued.

“They matter to you,” Sam pointed out.

Tommy nodded. “Of course they do, but that doesn’t mean shit.” His gaze hardened. “I’m just being selfish. They don’t fucking matter.”

Quackity suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Look, I know what Tubbo said, man, but he didn’t mean-”

“Yes, he fucking did,” Tommy said, sounding far more tired than angry. “He meant it. And, like, maybe he’s right, I don’t know.” He shifted so that he was laying down, his head resting on Fran. “It’s just… you know, Dream said he wanted the discs to have control over the server, right? I didn’t- I don’t want him to have that kind of power over my friends.”

Sam frowned. “Well, Dream’s obsession with power aside, they’re yours. It’s not selfish to want them back, they belong to you.”

Tommy barked out a laugh. “Yeah? Tell that to L’Manburg, the fucking pricks.”

“Hey!” Quackity protested. 

“I know, I know, I know,” Tommy waved a hand flippantly. “You’re cool, Big Q. Fundy, too, I guess. And Ranboo.” He looked over at Quackity. “How is Ranboo, by the way?”

Quackity shrugged. “As okay as he can be. Kinda blames himself for what happened to you, because he was technically partly responsible for what happened to George’s house.”

Sam checked the soup to see if it had started boiling. “What did happen to George’s house? I know Dream and George were upset, but I never really heard what happened.”

“Uh…” Tommy glanced away. “So, funny story, Ranboo and I kinda… burned down his house a bit? Just a bit, though. We didn’t even mean to. We set blocks down to set on fire, but it got a little out of hand. Also, we stole from him. Which was a bit shit, I know, but George is a bit shit, so-”

“Wait,” Quackity interrupted. “The fire was an accident?”

Tommy made an unsure sound. “We didn’t set the fire on accident, but we didn’t mean for it to spread to the walls and shit.”

“Dude, why didn’t you say anything?” Quackity asked. “Tubbo thought you did that shit on purpose, man, why didn’t you tell him it was an accident?”

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered,” Tommy said simply. “I was going to get the shit end of the stick either way, might as well just let Tubbo believe whatever the fuck he wants.”

Quackity pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the fuck, man… you know, a lot of the reason Tubbo got pissed off was because you were treating the trial like a joke.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “To be perfectly fucking honest, I kinda thought it was a joke, at first.”

“Why would you think a trial is a joke?” Sam asked. “Trials are serious business.”

“Well, what was I supposed to think?” Tommy asked. “My house has been griefed a shit-ton of times, and nobody got put on trial for that. I thought Tubbo was just- I don’t know, humoring Dream or something.” He huffed, “I knew it wasn’t a joke anymore when they tried getting Ranboo on the stand. It was his first fucking week on the server, no way I was gonna let them do shit to him.”

Sam thought that was kind, in a bittersweet sort of way. Sweet in that Tommy protected his friend because he knew Ranboo didn’t deserve that kind of punishment. Bitter in that Tommy didn’t believe he deserved the same protection. Hadn’t Dream killed Tommy before? “That was pretty brave of you, taking all the blame.”

“Yeah, well, Ranboo ended up snitching on himself,” Tommy said. “Nothing happened to him, thank fucking god, but he fessed up to helping me.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “He told everyone that I wasn’t selfish. He’s a cool guy. Tall as hell, though.”

Quackity groaned. “I know, right? He’s so fucking tall, dude. It’s actually stupid how tall he is.”

Sam took the spoon and stirred the soup a couple times before leaving it to boil again. “Is he as tall as me?”

“Taller,” Quackity said. “Not as tall as Bad, but still. He’s gotta be, like, eight and a half feet tall, and that is not a fucking joke.”

Tommy suddenly sat up. “Oh, shit, how’s that soup?” He scrambled to stand. “Is it boiling yet?”

“Almost,” Sam said. “Wanna try it?”

Quackity’s hand shot up. “I do!” He started to reach for the spoon, but Sam playfully smacked his hand away. “Hey!”

Sam laughed. “You’re having some for lunch, Q. Let Tommy do the taste test.” He held the spoon out to Tommy. “Come on, the broth should be safe enough for you to have.” At Quackity’s questioning glance, Sam gave him a glance he hoped would convey that he would explain later.

Then Quackity looked back to Tommy, and realization seemed to dawn in his eyes. Logstedshire was safe enough to mention in passing, but the finer details of Tommy’s lingering scars and signs of starvation weren’t a topic either of them would breach so soon after the teen’s panic attack.

Tommy took the spoon hesitantly. “This better not be shit, Sam,” he warned, dipping the spoon into the pot carefully. “If this is shit, I’m… fucking- I’m revolting.”

“Again?” Quackity teased. “Come on, Mr. Revolutionist, haven’t you had enough for one lifetime?”

“Hey, Wilbur was the revolutionist, not me.” Tommy gently blew on the spoonful of broth to cool it off. “Mr. Revolutionist, my ass.”

Sam took a fork to check the potatoes, stabbing one to see how cooked it was. “Alright, smart guy. What does that make you?”

“Just a soldier, Sam. And the biggest man in the whole fucking server,” Tommy replied, sipping the broth out of the spoon. He almost immediately recoiled at the taste. “Sam, holy shit, this is actually good. Fucking soup made out of potatoes, what else in this? What the fuck, how is it good?”

“Told you Sam is a good cook!” Quackity said. “Best soup in the SMP.”

Tommy shook his head in amazement. “Fucking potato soup. Bullshit.”

Bullshit, Sam’s thoughts echoed. Tommy had referred to himself as ‘just a soldier’, and moved on like he hadn’t said anything at all.

Just a soldier… yeah, bullshit. Tommy was just a child. And Sam was determined to make sure it stayed that way. Thoughts for later, though. For the moment. "Quackity, get your hand away from the pot."

"Aw, come on, Sam!"

Notes:

haha, the boys are vibing. It's Gonna Be Fine.

Chapter 9: One More Time

Notes:

Me, after the new lore stream: No, no, no. Sam, why would you do this? My heart is broken and my day is ruined. Awful. Why do they love to torment us?

My writer brain, after the new lore stream: Oh, good! More angst for later in the AU! Yes. Awesome. I love to torment my readers.

So, it turned out that potato soup wasn’t just potatoes, which Tommy thought was very misleading. There was milk and shit mixed in there, too. And bits of ham and bacon, which made Tommy’s stomach churn thinking about it, but he was sure that, under normal circumstances, he would have found that amazing. Then, of course, there were potatoes.

“The potatoes are actually a very small part of potato soup,” Tommy noted. “They should call it something else.”

Quackity hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, but what else would you call it?”

“Not potato soup.” Tommy tore off a piece of bread and dipped into the small bowl of broth that he’d been offered. According to Sam, his body couldn’t handle anything too rich--whatever that meant--but broth was, apparently, safe enough. 

Sam shrugged. “Okay, not-potato-soup, it is.”

Tommy looked up. “What?”

Quackity grinned. “I sure am enjoying this nice bowl of not-potato-soup.”

“What- oh, fuck off, both of you.” Tommy hid a smile behind a vicious bite of bread. It tasted like nothing. Or, rather, it tasted like almost nothing. It reminded him of the time he and Tubbo tried eating paper. It didn’t really taste all that bad, it just wasn’t pleasant to chew, and it was really hard to swallow.

Most food was like that, nowadays. Even the apple Tommy had eaten for breakfast lacked the flavor he remembered. Maybe Sam was on to something about that needing to take slow with what he was eating. He was pretty sure apples and bread weren’t supposed to taste like the same thing.

It made him all the more thankful for the potato soup. The soup was new. It was different, and had enough savory and salty flavor that Tommy thought he might have been able to taste it even if his taste buds were burned off. The thought of food revolted him, eating wasn’t something Tommy enjoyed anymore, but Sam made it easier to believe that he might find enjoyment in it again.

For the moment, however, eating was just a necessity.

The soup was good, though.

“Anyway,” Quackity continued, “I might have to head out after we finish lunch. As much as I’d like to stick around and eat not-potato-soup all day, I do have a country to help run. Like I said, Tubbo’s having a rough time at the moment.”

Tommy’s heart plummeted. The ‘because of Logstedshire’ went without speaking, but Tommy felt like they should be speaking about it. Somehow, it felt wrong not to. And even if there was just a tiny, spiteful, angry, part of him that wanted to let L’Manburg think him dead, he knew he couldn’t do that. Not to Tubbo.

The real question was, how could he let Tubbo know he was alive without disclosing his location? If Tubbo was really this distressed about his death, maybe that was a good enough sign that his friend wouldn’t hand him over to Dream. Nearly driving Tommy to suicide had to be a good enough reason to not leave him alone with the man.

Although… Tommy had thought Dream saying he wanted to have the discs to control Tommy because that would give him power over the server would also be a good enough reason not to leave him alone with the man.

Apparently fucking not, but he wasn’t bitter about it. He really wasn't. He didn’t have the energy to be.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Hey, uh- Big Q?”

“Yeah?”

No backing out now. “If I… If I wanted to go ahead and tell Tubbo that I’m alive, how do you figure I should go about doing that?”

Sam gave Tommy a reassuring look. “It’s okay if you’re not ready, Tommy. Are you absolutely sure that you want to tell him?”

“Uh… no?” Tommy answered honestly. “Well, I do want to tell him I’m, like, alive and shit. But I don’t want him to know I’m here.”

Quackity tapped his spoon against the table thoughtfully. “You could call him. Shouldn’t give away your location, but you could talk to him, at least.”

Tommy felt heat rush to his face. “That’s, uh- that isn’t an option, Big Man.” And he wasn’t embarrassed, he wasn’t. “My communicator got… stolen?” It felt wrong to accuse Dream of stealing it, even though that’s exactly what he did. But he did it for a good reason. Or maybe he didn’t. Tommy didn’t want to think about it too hard.

Sam frowned, or Tomy assumed he did, it was hard to tell with the mask. “And you can’t use mine because that would give away your location.”

“Fuck,” Tommy muttered. “Okay, okay. I got this. Um…”

“Oh, wait!” Quackity explained. “Wait, wait, wait!” He stood up from the table and threw down an enderchest. “I’ve got an extra one!”

Tommy blinked in surprise as Quackity pulled out a communicator. “How do you have an extra communicator?”

Quackity shrugged. “Karl’s a bit… forgetful. He thought he lost his, so Sapnap and I got him another one. Then we found this one under the bed, like, a month later. Extra communicator.”

Sam took the communicator and looked it over. “Okay, this isn’t set in Karl’s name anymore since he got another one, but I’ll still need to reset it in your name, Tommy. Shouldn’t take too long, then it’s all yours.”

“Wha- mine?” Tommy asked. “Are you sure?” He turned to Quackity. “Big Q, is that-?”

“It’s fine, man,” Quackity interrupted. “I’m not gonna use the thing.”

He felt his head start to spin again. Usually people were trying to take his shit away. “Uh… okay?” He cleared his throat, putting back the false bravado to shield his disbelief. “You’re not fucking getting back, hope you know that.”

“I don’t want it back,” Quackity replied.

“Good,” Tommy said, confidence faltering, “because- because I wouldn’t give it back anyway.”

Quackity picked up his bowl to go put it in the sink. “Oh no,” he said. “How will I ever survive?” Tommy frowned, unable to tell if Quackity’s teasing was malicious or not. He only vaguely understood it might have been a problem that he could no longer tell when his friends were joking.

Sam caught his attention with a hum, pressing buttons on the communicator. “I think that should do it.” He held it out to Tommy. “Go ahead and type your name in. Then we can test it.”

Tommy reached out and grabbed it reluctantly, then quickly retracted his hand once his fingers had curled around it. Sam let him. Didn’t even seem fazed. Dream would have accused Tommy of not trusting him.

He decided not to think about it, quickly typing Tommyinnit into the communicator. “Okay, I’ve got it.”

Quackity came back to the table to look at the communicator. Tommy tried to suppress a shudder at the way he was hovering over his shoulder. “Great! That should do it, man.”

“Cool,” Tommy said, leaning away from Quackity slightly. “And, uh, thanks. For… this. You didn’t have to.” The words felt heavy on his tongue. He wasn’t accustomed to thanking people, and gratitude practically felt like a foreign language. No one had ever spoken it to him before, so he wasn't sure how to give to others just yet, but he figured he should learn.

“I know.” Quackity took advantage of the fact that Tommy was sitting and ruffled his hair. “Anyway, I’m gonna head out. I have a feeling Tubbo is gonna need some emotional support after… your conversation. If you still plan on calling him.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I am. I’m gonna call him.” Quackity nodded once. “Be safe, Big Q.”

“No promises!” Tommy watched Quackity until he was out of sight, the sound of Sam’s door opening signaling his absence. Sam didn’t say anything, just continued to eat his own bowl of soup, leaving them in silence.

I never liked the quiet before, a voice sang. And although singing Hamilton with his brother was one of his fonder memories, he still shoved it aside.

He cleared his throat. “Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Uh…” Tommy struggled to find a topic of conversation, and decided to settle for one of his defaults. “What do you… what’s- what’s your opinion on women?”

Sam stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. “Women are pretty pog, Tommy,” he replied. “But you do still need to call Tubbo. You can’t stall forever.”

“‘I’m not fucking stalling,” Tommy snapped. “I’m- I’ll do it right now.” He defiantly typed Tubbo’s name into the communicator. “See? Doing it. I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Sam told him. “And I’ll be right here if you need me. I won’t talk, but if you need to-”

Tommy, feeling defensive, cut him off, “I’ll be fine.” The way his hands shook begged to differ. “And it’s none of your fucking business, anyway.”

Sam nodded. “That’s fair. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

What would Tommy be comfortable with? Not this, obviously. Calling Tubbo was… a daunting task, to be sure, but if there was a way he could make this easier… “Could I- could I put this on speaker? Like, so you can hear?” His grip tightened around the device. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, just-”

“Tommy,” Sam said, “I told you: whatever you’re comfortable with. I’ll listen in if you want.”

“Right.” Tommy’s grip loosened. At least now he’d have a witness. He didn’t know what could go wrong, but knowing his luck, it could be any number of things. “I’m- I’m gonna call him, then.”

He expected to have a few moments after he pushed the button to catch his breath. He expected the call to ring for a moment. He didn’t expect Tubbo’s voice to explode out of it almost immediately after he hit call.

“Who the fuck is this?”

Tommy swallowed once, twice, took a breath. “Who the fuck do you think it is, dickhead?”

Tubbo was silent for a few painfully long seconds. “What is- are you… this isn’t funny,” he warned in a wavering voice.

“No shit,” Tommy agreed. “You thought I was, like, dead. As if a big man like me would ever die. Honestly, Tubbo, I thought you knew me better than that.”

His friend choked on a laugh. “Holy shit, it- that’s actually you, isn’t it? Tommy?”

“The one and only.”

“I thought you… the tower-”

Tommy felt his heart skip a beat. “Uh- maybe we don’t talk about that right now, yeah?” He glanced at Sam, who gave him a reassuring smile. “Just… just fucking don’t. Please.”

“Oh, god…” Tubbo muttered. “You’re alive, you- you absolute bastard. You’re a bastard, Tomathy Innit, you know that?”

“I am a fatherless child,” Tommy deadpanned, putting the communicator on the table, “yes, I’m aware.”

Tubbo breathless laugh exploded into something almost hysteric. “You and me both, Big Man.” He released a breath, and Tommy could almost see him running a hand through his hair to steady himself. “Fuck, where are you? I need- I want to see you, Tommy. I tried to see you, but Logstedshire was… it was gone, and- and you were gone-”

“Yeah,” Tommy interrupted, “it’s gone. And I’m gone. And I’d kinda like to… to stay gone, Tubbo. For a little bit.”

“What do you mean?” Tubbo asked. “You… okay, I get that you’re exiled. I exiled you, I- I know, but I just want to see you.”

Tommy  crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah? Well, I wanted to fucking see you, too.” He hadn’t meant the words to come out as bitter as they did, but he refused to take them back. “I fucking- I hallucinated you. In Logstedshire. I thought maybe you were… but it was never really you. You never came.”

Sam’s gaze was unreadable. Not quite pity, something softer than that, and it made Tommy feel pathetic. He didn’t need pity, or any variant of it. He was strong, and he could do this, and he just wanted Sam to stop looking at him like that.

Tubbo took a long, shuddering breath. “I know I didn’t visit. I- I wanted to, Tommy, I missed you so much-”

“Got a really fucking weird way of showing it.”

“Tommy, I’m the president,” Tubbo protested. “I couldn’t just- I was busy, okay?”

“No, yeah, I get it.” Tommy’s gripped his arm, not caring if the pressure messed up his bandages again. “I was super busy, too. Just getting mentally tortured, like, every single fucking day. You know how it is.”

Tubbo stammered in confusion. “Mentally- what do you mean tortured. How? I mean- I mean, who would…. Dream said you were doing fine.”

Tommy felt something snap in his chest. It was deep-seated and angry, and maybe Tommy shouldn’t be so angry at Tubbo, but how could he be so fucking stupid? “And Dream is liar, Tubbo! You know that, you know Dream is a bastard and a liar-.”

“Tommy-”

“And you left me with him!” Tommy stood from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process and waking up Fran. “Who the fuck do you think did it, Tubbo? There was only one person who would visit me and it sure as fuck wasn’t any of you!”

Sam got up to go get Fran, leaving Tommy alone with Tubbo’s voice and his own thoughts. You can’t trust Tubbo, man! He’d leave you behind the second you’re not useful. And that wasn’t fair, Wilbur was wrong, Tubbo was only doing the best he could.

Tubbo just did exactly what Wilbur told him to: Do what’s best for L’Manburg. Tommy shouldn’t really be so angry at Tubbo when he was just following orders. After all, Tommy was just following orders, too.

Putting his hands on the table to steady himself, Tommy forced himself to take a breath. “I’m not telling you where I am.”

“Hold on-”

“No.” His hands curled into fists. “You’ll tell him. You’ll leave me with him, and I can’t go through that again. You’ll leave me with Dream, and I- I’ll be alone, and I don’t want to be alone again, I just- I can’t.”

“I won’t do that,” Tubbo said earnestly. “I wouldn’t.”

“You already did, Tubbo.”

“But I won’t do it again,” his friend insisted. “Not if Dream- not if he’s actually hurt you somehow. I won’t this time.”

“You said you wouldn’t last time,” Tommy muttered. “You, Fundy, Quackity, and- we talked about it. Remember that shit? And you said you wouldn’t, then you fucking did it anyway. So, I can’t… I just can’t.”

“You can’t… what? Trust me?” Tubbo asked. “You know why I did what I did-” Did he? “-you know I didn’t really want to. You can trust me.”

He had heard that somewhere before, among the sounds of Dream blowing up his things. And suddenly, with just a few words, he couldn’t remember where he was. He just knew that he didn’t feel safe anymore. “Of course, yeah. I trust you, Dream,” he mumbled, because that always seemed to work. Dream was kinder if Tommy agreed. “We- we’re friends, right? I trust-

“Tommy, what are you saying?” Tubbo interrupted. “Why are you calling me Dream?”

The question ripped Tommy from his past. He blinked rapidly, trying to get the fog of Logstedshire out of his vision. “I- yeah, I just…” This was Tubbo, not Dream. He was fine. He was safe. He could stay safe, for the moment, as long as Dream didn’t find him. “Tubbo, I just need to be away.”

Sam walked with Fran to Tommy while the silence stretched between him and his best friend. She leaned into Tommy, pushing him backwards into his chair, forcing him to sit down before he was knocked over. Tommy ran a hand through her fur to keep himself rooted to the spot.

Tommy could feel Sam’s on his shoulder. It was… nice. Comforting, maybe. A stark contrast to the conversation he was having.

“Okay,” Tubbo said quietly. “I don’t- I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I won’t ask where you are. Can you just… call me sometimes? Let me know you’re okay?”

“I will if you do,” Tommy replied. “The effort has to go both fucking ways this time.”

Tubbo breathed a laugh, rough and staticy through the communicator. “Yeah. Deal, big man. Just don’t scare me like that again, alright? I don’t think my heart could take it.”

And Tommy would promise his Tubbo just about anything, but that? He didn’t know if he could promise that. “I really miss you, Big T.”

“I miss you, too.” Tubbo’s voice was suddenly thick with fresh tears. “I kinda- I kinda don’t want to hang up. Feels like I’m gonna lose you again if I do.”

Tommy nodded. “I know what you mean.”

There was a beat of silence before, “Bye, Tommy.”

“Bye, Tubbo.”

Sam was there when the call ended. Sam was there when Tommy nearly dropped his communicator trying to turn it off, and Sam was there to guide his trembling hands back to Fran. It was probably good that Sam was there, because Tommy was shaking too hard to do anything but sit.

Tommy should have been ecstatic. Tubbo didn’t hate him, probably. No one knew where he was still, except for Quackity and Sam. It was fine. Great, actually. Things were going right.

That was usually a pretty good sign that things were about to go horribly wrong, and the thought made Tommy’s stomach lurch. “Sam, I-” His throat burned with emotions he couldn’t describe. “I have to- I’m-” Before Sam could ask, Tommy bolted to the room Sam had been letting him stay in.

“Tommy?” Sam called after him, his voice laced with concern, but Tommy ignored him. He slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned against it. Like that could actually stop Sam from getting in.

Sam’s voice drew closer. “Tommy, are you okay? What happened?” He was right outside the door, but he didn’t come in. Tommy breathed a sigh of relief that Sam seemed to understand he needed space. “Tommy, do you want to talk? I can send Fran in, if you want.”

Tommy swallowed back the burning in his throat. “Yeah, I want- I’d like to see Fran, please.” He opened the door a crack, and a blur of white slipped in. Tommy closed the door again and sat down, letting Fran crawl into his lap. “Sam, I’m- I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said through the door. “You don’t have to explain if you can’t.” There was a pause. “The conversation seemed to go well, for the most part.”

“Yeah,” Tommy murmured. “Mostly.”

Sam hummed. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Tommy said. “It’s just- it went… okay. Good. And that’s… that doesn’t happen, Sam. Not to me. This is when everything starts going wrong, and I know it’s gonna be my fault, somehow, it always is.”

“No,” Sam disagreed. “If something were to happen it would be Dream’s fault.” Tommy made an unsure sound. “It would be, Tommy. Besides, it won’t come to that. I told you: this will always be a safe place for you to stay.”

Tommy felt whatever energy he had left leave him. “There’s no such thing, Sam,” he said wearily. “There’s no such thing as safe. Never has been.”

“Well, I think maybe it’s time someone changed that,” Sam said. “Anyway, I saw you holding your arms earlier. Do you mind if I take a look at your bandages? It doesn’t have to be right this second, I just want to make sure they’re still secure.”

Fran looked up at Tommy. Her gaze was warm, and so was Sam’s voice. It reminded him of a simpler time. With Henry and Wilbur. It was exactly what Tommy knew what was going to happen. It happened sooner than he thought it would, but it happened.

Tommy trusted Sam.

He looked up at the ceiling. “Okay,” he whispered to himself. “One more time. I’ll try just one more time.”

The creeper hybrid looked surprised when Tommy opened the door. Tommy managed a small smile, not even attempting any kind of bravado. He knew Sam would see through it anyway.

“Hey, Big Man,” he said, his hand still resting on Fran’s head. “You think- would you mind terribly if I asked for a healing potion this time?”

Sam smiled warmly. “Sure, Tommy.” And Tommy had to wonder if maybe Sam knew just how much he trusted that smile already.

Tommy really did hope he didn’t fuck this up straight away. He quite liked the feeling of being safe.

Notes:

I know Tubbo and Tommy's reaction to each other is rather tame at the moment. It's the calm before the storm, baby. If you think these aren't going to have a massive fight like they did in canon, you would be wrong, it's just going to be different than the canon one.

Chapter 10: Secrets Don't Make Friends

Notes:

Ranboo POV? Pog?

Also, before you ask: Why does this chapter have such shit dialogue? The answer is: Because I got caught up in the character building in the beginning and forgot that people have to actually talk.

L’Manburg was a rather complicated place, Ranboo decided. The citizens were good people, really good people, they just made… questionable decisions. He didn’t know much about the server, but from what limited experience he had, he could already tell that Dream, more than anyone, was a problem.

Which is why it confused him when Tubbo had left Tommy with Dream. As if exiling wasn’t bad enough on its own, Tommy was alone with Dream, who--as far as Ranboo could tell--absolutely hated Tommy. Tommy had once claimed Tubbo was his best friend. Ranboo wasn’t sure what kind of person would leave their ‘best friend’ with someone who wished them nothing but harm.

He soon found, though, that Tubbo was every bit as lost as Tommy was. Maybe more so, in his own ways. The kind of person who would exile their best friend was a person burdened with stress they couldn’t handle and an ultimatum they couldn’t win. Tubbo was trying to do what was best for L’Manburg, it was just a shame that it came at the cost of Tommy.

Despite his vehement disagreement with Tubbo’s decision to exile Tommy, he understood that Tubbo didn't exactly have a lot of options, and he found himself befriending the president. After all, Ranboo wasn’t really one for conflict. Things happened, and those things didn’t always have good results, but you could only do the best you could. And maybe it was the fact that Tubbo felt that he had no other choice but to send his friend away that made it all the more heartbreaking.

Tubbo wasn't a bad person. He was a good person. A great person, even. He was just forced to make an awful decision.

Ranboo had seen Tommy curing exile. On his very last visit, he couldn’t help but wonder if the broken shell he was talking to was really the same rambunctious teenager that had robbed George with him. Surely, the gray-eyed stranger couldn’t be the same person that stared down Dream with orbs of fiery blue and took the blame that should have partly Ranboo’s to begin with.

Tommy had defended him, a fact that Ranboo felt guilty about often. Ranboo had tried getting L’Manburg to see reason, to see Tommy for what he was and not what Dream made him out to be. But even Tubbo had seemed dead set on believing Tommy was selfish, and uncaring of consequences.

Couldn’t they see that Tommy was also taking on burdens too great to bear alone? At the very least, Tubbo had Quackity, Fundy, and himself, but Tommy… well, Tommy was just Tommy. Ranboo wasn't sure how someone that loyal could end up so alone. Because loyal was really all that Tommy was, despite what people thought of him. Tommy was reckless and naive, loyal to a fault, and Ranboo was sure that he didn’t deserve that loyalty. He wasn't sure that anyone did.

And if he wasn’t sure before, he was certain of it when Tubbo came back from Logstedshire.

Tubbo hadn’t said anything at first. Even when Quackity prompted him about his early return, Tubbo had been silent, and scarily expressionless. It wasn’t until Fundy asked, “How’s Tommy?” that Tubbo crumbled.

Ranboo hadn’t seen anyone cry on the server. Really, after meeting Tommy, he’d thought the server was rather light-hearted. Robbery pranks, a teenager for president, it had all seemed… kind of ridiculous, actually. It wasn’t until the trial that Ranboo thought that maybe this server was a little more broken than he first realized.

Seeing Tubbo break down, mourning a friend he’d never visited, made Ranboo think that the people here were a little more broken than he first realized, too.

It’d taken a moment for it to truly sink in for Ranboo. And when it did, it took all of his willpower not to start crying himself. He hadn’t known Tommy very long, but Ranboo could safely say the bright-eyed teenager had been his first friend on the server.

Tommy was loud and abrasive, but clearly had a big heart--maybe too big for this server. He was compassionate and kind, though he hid it well behind a facade of brashness. Tommy was fearless, selfless, and Ranboo was sure he could have remembered Tommy without writing him down in his books.

And then Tommy died.

Ranboo had gone home and reread every memory of Tommy he had ever written down, afraid that if he didn’t engrave the smile into his head that he might forget it forever.

He wasn’t even sure how many people knew about Tommy’s death, though he supposed it didn’t matter. Not when he walked into Tubbo’s office just over a day later and found Tubbo smiling in relief. “Uh… Tubbo?”

“He’s alive,” Tubbo breathed. “Ranboo, he’s alive.”

“He- wait, do you mean Tommy?” Ranboo asked. “Are you sure? I mean… I thought he was gone. You said-”

Tubbo shook his head. “No, I know what I said, but he just called me!” His grip tightened around his communicator. “And- and he won’t tell me where he is, because he’s hiding. Or something. I don’t know. He was pretty vague about what happened with Logstedshire, but it was something about…” Tubbo’s expression faltered. “Dream.”

“Dream?”

“Yeah, Tommy said… well, he didn’t say anything, really, like I said: he was being unhelpfully vague. But the point is, he’s alive.” He put his communicator back in his pocket. “He’s alive, but he’s… he’s hiding from Dream. I don’t know what happened, but it had to be bad if Tommy is hiding. Tommy never runs from anything.”

Ranboo tilted his head. “Well, yeah. Dream was terrible to Tommy during exile.”

Tubbo’s expression cleared, and he turned to look at Ranboo blankly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, I think Dream is just terrible in general, actually,” Ranboo mused. “I mean, he did manipulate you into exiling your best friend. Not to mention he said that-”

“Ranboo,” Tubbo interrupted sharply. “What do you mean ‘Dream was terrible to Tommy during exile’?” he asked slowly. “What do you know?”

Ranboo’s brow furrowed. “Uh, not- not much, but… but his clothes were all torn and his eyes were-” He paused, trying to remember the finer details of Tommy before exile. “Were Tommy’s eyes always gray?”

“No,” Tubbo said. “Tommy’s eyes are blue.”

“Thought so,” Ranboo said. “Well, they’re gray now. Also, Logstedshire was just- there were craters everywhere, and Tommy’s inventory was always empty, even though I’m sure I saw him mining-”

Tubbo stepped forward and grabbed Ranboo by the arm. Ranboo never thought he’d use the word ‘intimidating’ to describe Tubbo, but gazing into a war-scarred face, Ranboo was very quickly reminded that Tubbo had seen--and survived--more than Ranboo could ever imagine. Not that he’d want to imagine it, anyway.

“You knew something was happening?” Tubbo asked. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

Ranboo hesitated, “I didn’t… I wasn’t sure- I guess I just didn’t think to tell you, but it wasn’t anything personal, Tubbo.”

Tubbo stared at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think to tell me? I’m the president, I have to know what’s going on!” His eyes flickered with an emotion Ranboo couldn’t describe. “And- and aside from that, Tommy is my best friend, Ranboo. How could you not think to tell me something was wrong?”

“I don’t even know exactly what happened.” Ranboo found himself unable to hold Tubbo’s gaze any longer and glanced away. He never did like eye contact much. “I just know that something did. You could tell by looking at him, just by- by looking around Logstedshire.”

“That’s not very specific, Ranboo.”

“I can’t be more specific,” Ranboo protested. “I told you there were craters, and Tommy would mine while I was there, but anything he made would be gone when I came back to visit again. All I have are speculations, Tubbo.”

Tubbo sighed in frustration, letting go of Ranboo’s arm and pacing angrily around the room. “I don’t need speculations, I need to know what happened. I need my friend back, but he’s- he doesn’t trust me anymore. I don’t know what’s happened, I don’t even know where he is!”

Ranboo wanted to say that he understood the frustration but, truthfully, Ranboo wanted to remind Tubbo that he could have known something was wrong. While he didn't have much of a choice in Tommy's exile, Tubbo could have gone to see Tommy much sooner, then he wouldn’t have to feel so confused and angry.

But it was easier to placate Tubbo than start another fight, and so all he said was, “I’m sure he’ll trust you again, Tubbo. It might take a while, you know, because Dream… yeah, Dream probably messed with him a lot, but it’s Tommy. I didn’t even know him for that long, and I know he’s a pretty trusting guy. He’s just… he’s just hurt right now, I think. He’ll come around.”

“Hurt,” Tubbo repeated mechanically. “Right.” He was quiet for a moment. “Fundy told me I was fucking this up, Ranboo.” He looked up at Ranboo questioningly. “Do you think I’m fucking this up?”

And there was no truthful answer that Ranboo could give that wouldn’t sound mean, no matter how well-intentioned he meant it, so he chose the least mean-sounding one of the options. “I think you’re doing your best,” he told Tubbo. “Everyone makes decisions they wish they could take back. It happens. You feel bad for not visiting Tommy, and that’s fine. We just have to figure out where to go from here.”

Tubbo nodded. “Okay,” he mumbled, suddenly sounding far more tired than angry. “Okay.” Then he sat down at his desk without saying another word.

Ranboo felt like he should have said something, and he would have if he could have found the words to say. Instead, he kept Tubbo company, making idle conversation about whatever he could think of while Tubbo worked on some paperwork.

It was maybe another half an hour before their peaceful quiet was interrupted by a familiar voice, “Hey, boys!”

“Quackity!” Tubbo said, his tone considerably brighter than it had been. “I have great news, Big Q, where have you been?”

“Went to visit my dad for a little bit,” Quackity replied easily.

A little too easily, Ranboo thought, for someone who’d cried almost as much as Tubbo a day ago. Ranboo shook it off, though. Maybe visiting his dad had helped him cope? Ranboo wasn’t sure. Either way, it wasn’t like he’d be grieving for much longer.

“What’s this great news of yours?” Quackity asked, leaning against the doorframe. “L’Manburg could do with some great news right about now.”

Tubbo snorted. “You said it.” He ran a hand through his hair, sorting through what was left of his unfinished paperwork. “Tommy is alive, Big Q. He just called me a while ago, if you can believe it.”

If Ranboo hadn’t already been watching the man in the doorway, he might not have noticed the brief, knowing smile that crossed Quackity’s expression before it morphed into one of shock. “Oh, my god! Wait, are you fucking serious?” He walked in and put his hands on Tubbo’s desk. “Where is he? Did he say?”

“No,” Tubbo said regretfully. “But we do know that he’s safe.”

Quackity heaved a sigh of relief. “Jesus Christ, man… I can’t believe we really thought he was gone.”

“I know, right?” Tubbo asked. “I mean, it’s Tommy. No way he’d just… just die. Not to Dream.”

Ranboo frowned. He hadn’t been on the server very long, but he had read the history books. That didn’t seem like an entirely accurate statement. “Hasn’t Dream already killed Tommy twice?”

Tubbo and Quackity both turned to stare at him, looking stunned. The silence that stretched between them was beyond uncomfortable.

“I mean, that’s why everyone was so upset, right?” Ranboo asked quickly. “Because that- that would have been Tommy’s third canon life.”

Quackity cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, the important thing is that Big Man Innit is alive.” He gave Tubbo a smile. “I’ll go let Fundy know, okay? Take it easy with all that paperwork.” He paused before leaving. “We need to have a meeting tomorrow,” he added. “About Technoblade.”

“Oh,” Tubbo said. “Okay. Sure.” Quackity nodded at Tubbo’s confirmation and left.

Ranboo watched Quackity leave, his frown deepening at how easily he seemed to accept Tommy being alive. And how quickly he moved on from the subject. He’d been obsessed with the whole ‘executing Technoblade’ thing, but still… “Did he seem off to you?” Ranboo asked Tubbo.

Tubbo gave him a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, he just-” Ranboo’s tail flicked behind him in agitation. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me.”

The president hummed. “Go get some rest, maybe?”

“I will if you do,” Ranboo replied, knowing Tubbo hadn’t slept at all since Logstedshire.

Tubbo laughed. “Alright, alright.” He pushed away from his desk and stood. “Jeez, what are you? My mother?”

“Yes,” Ranboo deadpanned. “I'm your mother. Go to bed or you’re grounded.”

“Oh no,” Tubbo protested in mock fear. “Don’t ground me, mother dearest.” That was better, Ranboo thought. He liked seeing Tubbo relaxed. If it weren’t for the bags under his eyes, you could almost forget he was the president of an entire country.

Almost.

They left the office together, though they had to go their separate ways once they left the building. Ranboo found himself lost in his thoughts, as he often did when he walked alone.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself. “Quackity definitely seemed off.” He kicked idly at a rock as he made his way to the house Ghostbur built for him. “Not, like, in a bad way, I don’t guess. But it was definitely weird. He didn’t even seem that surprised. Like he…” he trailed off, his footsteps coming to a halt in the middle of the Prime Path. “Almost like he already knew.

“But how could Quackity have known?” Ranboo asked his audience of one. “It’s only been a day since Tommy died, so he had to have found out just today.” He started walking again, his brow furrowed in concentration. He wanted to solve this before the conversation slipped his memory. “But how could he have found out today? He said he was at his father’s for a visit.”

He ducked into his house, still mulling over the conversation in his head. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe he’d imagined the knowing look on Quackity’s face, or the false shock in his tone.

Maybe…

“Who is Quackity’s father?” Ranboo suddenly questioned. “It has to be someone outside of L’Manburg…” He didn’t know much about the SMP, really. Outside of L’Manburg, nearly everyone was a stranger. Even inside of L’Manburg, Ranboo was surrounded by strangers.

The only exception was Tommy, a friend both inside and outside of the country.

A faint noise from his pocket jolted him from his thoughts. He pulled his communicator to find that he had a new whisper from someone. Opening the message, Ranboo could only stare at the screen for a moment, then a laugh found its way out of his throat. It was simple and to the point; Ranboo didn’t even have to check the name of who sent it.

Hey, bitch.

Notes:

Tubbo, exiling Tommy: You're all undermining my authority, I make my own decisions, I'm exiling Tommy for the good of L'Manburg.

Tubbo now: Wow, I sure am glad no one is undermining my authority anymore and definitely not keeping secrets from me.

Quackity and Ranboo:

Chapter 11: Silent Challenge

Notes:

Tubbo. Tubzo. Big T. Go the fuck to sleep. Who let a teenager be president? Let him rest.

Don't worry, we'll be getting back to Tommy and Sam soon. Just gotta do some ✨character building✨

Tubbo was having… a rather frustrating time, to say the very least.

It was a relief to hear Tommy’s voice again, however scared it sounded, but the fact that Tommy was hiding, and wouldn’t even tell him where… well, that hurt a bit more than he’d like to admit. He didn’t want to be bitter, clearly something had happened to make Tommy that scared.

He tried to ignore the part of him that knew whatever happened was partly his fault.

Hasn’t Dream already killed Tommy twice?

Sometimes he hated that Ranboo was so smart. It was an asset most days, especially during meetings, but the statement kept bouncing annoyingly around in his head. Even when he tried to catch a few hours of rest (as per Ranboo’s request), the thought still plagued him.

Which is how he ended up at Quackity’s little meeting the next day even more tired than he had been. Ranboo seemed to notice, and frowned disapprovingly, but didn’t say a word about it. However much they playfully bickered like an old married couple in private, Ranboo knew better than to start an argument during a meeting, even if it was light-hearted.

Tommy would have argued, though. Tommy would have grabbed Tubbo by the shoulders and steered him out of the room and all the way back to his house, all the while berating him for not sleeping. Tommy would have sounded angry and irritated, and anyone else would have dismissed it as aggressive, but Tubbo knew it would be hiding genuine concern.

Tommy would have. Not anymore, though.

Tubbo pointedly avoided Ranboo’s gaze. He could see too much sky-blue determination in the pools of green and red.

Speaking of determination…

Quackity was still looking at Tubbo with that ever-determined look on his face, like he had an idea he was sure couldn’t fail. Tubbo wasn’t sure why he was wearing that bloodied apron--it kind of threw off his whole look, honestly--but it seemed to prove his conviction to reap justice. The Butcher Army, Quackity called it, when he first proposed the idea.

It had sounded ridiculous at the time, but the longer Tubbo thought about it, the more appealing this little four person army sounded. If no one else was executing justice on the server, why not do it themselves? Technoblade had earned it, anyway. Just like Schlatt and Wilbur had, though they were both saved by death, the lucky bastards. They were owed some consequences. They deserved it.

Just like Tommy deserved it?

“Tubbo?” Quackity asked. “You good?”

Tubbo rubbed his eyes, shoving the thought from his mind. “Fine, fine. What did you want to talk about, Big Q?” It was something about Technoblade, he remembered. He wasn’t entirely fond of the anarchist, not after having publically executed him.

Fundy cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m- I’m a little confused. Haven’t we already figured out what we’re doing about Technoblade? The execution?”

Execution. Tubbo could play it off as justice as much as he wanted but, truthfully, deep down, a little bit of it was revenge. For Quackity, though, for Fundy, and for L’Manburg, it was justice. Actions have consequences, and Technoblade was long overdue.

“That is still the plan,” Quackity said. “I just… I talked with my dad yesterday-”

“Wait, you talked to Sam?” Fundy asked. “Haven’t seen him in a while. How’s he been?”

Quackity shrugged. “Oh, you know. Sam is a busy guy.” Tubbo thought he saw Ranboo’s tail flick in the corner of his eye, but he dismissed it. He wasn’t sure if Ranboo had even been introduced to Sam, yet. “Anyway, busy or not, he is a neutral party on most things, and he made me realize something.”

Tubbo let his arms rest on the table as he leaned forward. He was far too tired for Quackity to beat around the bush. “Made you realize what.”

“Well, we probably shouldn’t execute Technoblade without a trial,” Quackity said. “It was Sam’s idea, and I don’t think it’s a bad one, really.”

Fundy laughed in disbelief. “A trial? Seriously?”

“Hear me out,” Quackity placated. “I’m not saying we won’t kill him. In fact, a trial would pretty much ensure that we could.”

“How?” Ranboo questioned. “Wouldn’t a trial give Technoblade a chance to defend himself?”

Quackity waved off the statement. “No way. There’s enough evidence against him, right, Tubbo?”

Tubbo blinked, surprised to have the attention on him. “Uh, yeah. Obviously there’s enough fucking evidence. That’s the reason we were skipping the trial in the first place.”

“But if we don’t, Technoblade could use it as an excuse to lash out,” Quackity noted. “His whole shtick is that governments are corrupt. Execution without a trial might be proving his point and he could, you know… retaliate.”

Ranboo tilted his head thoughtfully. “Do you really think he would? I thought he was… like, peaceful or something? Sorry, I’m- I’m still working through the history books Ghostbur wrote.”

Fundy made an unsure sound. “I mean, yeah, he’s peaceful now, but I think Quackity has a point. Any little thing could set him off at this point, and if he decides to get violent again… well, I’d rather not fight anymore withers, is all I’m saying.”

“Tubbo,” Quackity prompted, “it’s your call.”

His call. Tubbo wasn’t sure if he’d ever be used to that. They could discuss for hours if they wanted, but it was ultimately his decision. Though, lately, it didn’t really feel like he had a choice in very many things.

This was important, though. He could decide this--he had to decide this--but he wasn’t gonna make the same mistake he did last time. This time, he was gonna make sure that the decision he made was the best one he could possibly make. For everyone.

“Can we talk about this later?” Tubbo asked. “I need to… I’m going to think this over before I do anything.”

Quackity frowned. “Tubbo-”

“I said: I’m going to think it over,” Tubbo snapped. Quackity held his gaze for a moment, almost defiantly. Tubbo recognized that look, he’d seen it a couple times during their time with Schlatt. Quackity thought he was right, and he wanted to argue all the reasons why he was, but he knew better than to challenge the authority.

But Tubbo was the authority now, not Schlatt. Tubbo still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Finally, Quackity blinked, and the expression was replaced with a sympathetic smile. “Okay. I’m sorry for pushing. I know it’s a big decision, I just want to do what’s best for L’Manburg.”

Tubbo nodded curtly. “Your input is appreciated.” The formal phrasing felt awkward in his mouth. Wilbur had always made it sound so easy. “But I’m also trying to do what’s best for L’Manburg. Last time I rushed a decision, my best friend ended up off the grid with no way to find him.”

Fundy drummed his fingers against the table, his claws clicking slightly. “So… what do we do about Philza, then?” he asked, and Tubbo was grateful for the change of subject. “Do we still need to ask him about Technoblade’s location?”

“Of course,” Quackity answered immediately. “He’s still our only lead to-”

“Yes,” Tubbo interrupted. “We will interrogate Philza after I’ve come to a decision about whether or not we’re having a trial.”

And they were back to silently challenging each other. Tubbo was well aware how awkward the situation would be for Fundy and Ranboo, but he didn’t care. He was well and truly tired of people talking over him and undermining his decisions. Quackity was going to listen, whether he liked it or not, because this was Tubbo’s decision.

Your call, Quackity had said. Fine. Tubbo was making his call.

“Five days,” Tubbo said. “We’ll hold another meeting in five days, unless something drastic happens.”

Quackity bristled, but he didn’t argue. “Five days,” he repeated. He almost sounded as agitated as Tubbo felt. Good. “In the meantime,” he continued, “may I suggest that you get some rest, Mr. President? You look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

Ranboo raised a hand unnecessarily. “I would like to second that. Can I second that?”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Ranboo, we established yesterday that you want me to rest.”

“We also established that I would ground you if you didn’t.”

Fundy snorted. “What are you, his dad?”

“His mom, actually,” Ranboo corrected, and a laugh escaped Tubbo at the strangled noise that left Fundy.

Quackity raised an eyebrow. “What? They’re joking, obviously, but that honestly wouldn’t even be the weirdest family dynamic on the server.”

“No, I think it would be,” Fundy argued.

“Your father got pegged by a fucking salmon, Fox-Boy,” Tubbo pointed out. “You don’t get to talk about weird families.”

Ranboo’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, Wilbur was what by a what?”

If Tubbo ignored his suit and Quackity’s bloodied apron, he could almost pretend things were normal again. Like he didn’t have five days to decide an anarchist’s fate. Like Tommy would burst through the door any second, talking about women or drugs, or whatever topic sprang into his overactive mind.

He could almost pretend.

The meeting adjourned after a few more minutes of joking around. Tubbo was still off-put by Quackity, but the laughter had helped ease his nerves, somewhat. He felt a little more confident in his decision, in any case, and he really just wanted to get some rest. For real, this time, not just saying it to get Ranboo off his back.

Tommy was safe (as far as he knew), and they were still getting justice for L’Manburg, so, really there was nothing Tubbo could think of that could put him on edge. Except for literally everything, but that was a problem for future Tubbo.

“Hey, Tubbo!” Ranboo’s voice called after him. “Hold up a second.”

Tubbo stopped and turned to give his friend a tired smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going home to rest, I promise.”

Ranboo blinked. “Oh. Well, that’s not- I mean, yes, you should do that, but I actually just had a question.”

“Sure.” Tubbo gestured for Ranboo to walk with him. “What’s up, Big Man?”

“I was kinda… I was really just wondering who Sam was? Quackity’s dad, right? I can’t remember if I’ve met him or not, but I don’t think I have.”

Tubbo hummed. “Yeah, probably not. He lives around the BadLands, I think. Last I heard, anyway.” He thought back to the last time he remembered seeing Sam. “Haven’t heard from him since Manburg, really. He came by to help Tommy with some TNT thing, and he helped me gather some diamonds, but after that… yeah. He just doesn’t come around often.”

Ranboo nodded slowly. “Huh. A neutral party. On this server. Kinda thought you were all… I don’t know. You all seem big on choosing sides.”

“Well, yeah,” Tubbo confirmed. “You have to be, on a server like this one. It’s good to have allies.”

“Allies, sure,” Ranboo agreed. “But sides?”

Tubbo shrugged. “That’s just how it works.” That’s how it had always worked, ever since Tubbo joined the server. You pick a side that you trust and you fight with them. No matter the outcome, no matter what got in your way, no matter who got in your way, you stay with your friends and they stay with you.

It’s me and you, versus Dream.

“I guess,” Ranboo said reluctantly. “Anyway, uh- that’s all I really wanted to know. I’ll let you go get some rest now.” He gave Tubbo an awkward pat on the head. “Go to sleep. Seriously.”

Tubbo swatted his hand away. “Alright, alright! If you don’t knock it off, I’m going to strangle you.”

Ranboo tilted his head. “Not from down there, you’re not.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Ranboo smiled. “Just get some rest, okay?” Tubbo thought that Ranboo and Tommy would have gotten along really well, if they would have had the time. Ranboo’s placating tone would have been a nice balance to Tommy’s aggression, though they’d both just be trying to convince him to sleep.

Tommy would call him a bitch, probably. A bitch that needed sleep.

God, Tubbo missed his best friend.

“Message me if you need anything,” Ranboo said as he turned to walk away. “Seriously, Tubbo. Anything.”

Tubbo waved him off. “I will, Big Man. I’ll see you later.” And then Tubbo was alone on the Prime Path. In silence. He didn’t think L’Manburg had ever been so quiet. Not since Schlatt, anyway.

The only common denominator was Tommy’s presence, or lack thereof. Peace, or the vicious mockery of it, seemed to taunt Tubbo in its silence. Just like during Schlatt’s rule, the people were only quiet because they were scared. They were scared of Dream, though, which made Tubbo feel better about his position as Schlatt’s replacement, if only by a small margin.

Still…

Tubbo shook his head to clear his thoughts and started walking again. It was a thought for later. Yet another future Tubbo problem. At the moment, present Tubbo needed some goddamn sleep.

Notes:

Dare I say: Quackity is a manipulative bastard, even if his intentions are good.

Anyhow. Five days to figure shit out. Five days for things to start going right (or horribly wrong).

Chapter 12: Sewing Seeds of Doubt

Notes:

A friend of mine reminded me that Tommy canonically knows how to sew and I had to put that in the AU immediately.

Tommy thought the healing potion would make him feel better. Somehow, though, it only made him feel worse. He didn’t know what to do with himself without the lingering pain, nothing to bring him back down to Earth when he was drifting in his own thoughts.

And Sam… well, Tommy wasn’t entirely sure what to do about Sam. The creeper hybrid hadn’t so much as raised his voice since Tommy had arrived, despite the fact that he was practically taking over the house and wasting Sam’s time. Tommy had already forced Sam to pull him out of a flashback (fuck that creeper), and he didn’t want Sam to have to do that again.

Day one, and he’d argued with Quackity, had a panic attack at the kitchen table, and his worst crime: he made Sam worry. It wasn’t Sam’s place to do that. Tommy just needed to be better.

It became increasingly clear by his second day that he wasn’t getting better. Day two, and he was still flinching when Sam moved too fast, and he could pretend that he didn’t see the hurt in Sam’s eyes when it happened, but it was there. Still, that didn’t stop Tommy from following Sam around the house, if only because he couldn’t find anything else to do.

Clingy, he could almost hear Tubbo taunt.

“Hey, Tommy,” Sam asked suddenly, pausing at the front door to let Fran run outside. “Anything you want to do today?”

“No,” Tommy answered. “Well, actually, uh…” He scratched idly at his arm, still unused to having no bandages to pick at nervously. “Do you still have my clothes? I want- I want those back. You know, so I can stop wearing your shit all the time.”

Sam closed the door behind Fran and nodded. “Yes, I have them.” He crossed the living room to sift through one of his chests. “I’ve got them washed, but they’re not mended yet.”

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck about that, Sam, I can mend my own shit.”

Surprised, Sam looked over at him. “You can sew?”

“Wha- yes, Sam. I know how to fucking sew,” Tommy scoffed. “What sort of self-respecting soldier doesn’t know how to mend their own uniform?” He leaned against the wall. “Anyway, just give me my shit back so I can wear something that fucking fits me.”

That was a lie. Tommy’s clothes did not fit him. But they fit him better than Sam’s clothes.

Sam laughed. “Alright, alright,” he said as he pulled out Tommy’s clothes. “Speaking of fixing things, that string around your neck seems frayed. I don’t know what’s on it-” and of course Sam didn’t know, Tommy kept the compass under his shirt for a reason, “-but I could find something else to put it on, if you want.”

Tommy instinctively clutched the compass through his borrowed shirt. “No,” he spat, harsher than he meant it to be.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, closing the chest he’d been sorting through and standing. “We could put a chain on it or something. I’d hate for that string to snap and lose… whatever you’ve got there.”

“I said no, Sam,” Tommy snapped before he could stop himself. “Stop fucking asking about it!” And, for a moment, his heart lodged in his throat. Because maybe him snapping at Sam was the last straw, and maybe Sam was getting tired of him now, and maybe Sam would just take the compass, and maybe-

“Tommy,” Sam said, and Tommy curled in on himself at the stern tone. This was the part where he got hurt. “I understand if you don’t want me messing with your things, but I’d appreciate you not snapping at me.”

And because Tommy was already feeling defensive, he dug himself a deeper hole with, “Fuck off.” Sam didn’t respond immediately, instead just choosing to study Tommy carefully. Tommy hated it. Why wasn’t Sam doing anything? “The fuck are you looking at? Do something, you creeper prick.”

Get it over with.

Sam’s brow furrowed slightly in a way that told Tommy he was surprised, and probably frowning, “Tommy, what do you think I’m going to do?”

Tommy took a step back. Why was Sam dragging this on? Why wasn’t he doing anything? “I don’t- I don’t know. Just… yell or- or something, but stop pretending you’re not pissed off at me.”

“But I’m not pissed off at you, Tommy,” Sam said, his voice laced with concern. “Getting a little frustrated and being angry are two very different things. So, if you’re expecting me to yell or… something worse than that, then you can relax, because that won’t happen.” And despite his better judgement, Tommy did relax. “But I did ask you to stop snapping at me, and I’d appreciate it if you listened.”

“And what if I don’t?” Tommy challenged. “What if I keep yelling and shit?”

Sam shrugged. “Then I’ll keep asking to stop until you do.”

Tommy faltered. “What if- what if I-”

“There’s nothing you can do that’s gonna make me mad,” Sam said firmly. “I’ll listen when you say that you have boundaries, all I ask is that you listen to me, too. Respect is a two way street, Tommy.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Tommy asked. “That you’ll… respect my boundaries or some shit?”

Here was a moment of silence before Sam answered, “No. I don’t expect you to believe that. I think it’d be a miracle if you believed anything an adult told you, after everything that’s happened.” Tommy glanced away, unable to keep Sam’s gaze. “But I hope that you can believe it, someday. It’s just one step at a time.”

Tommy considered that for a moment, weighing his options. He trusted Sam, really, he did, but sometimes his brain made him think that he didn’t. He didn’t know how to fix his brain just yet, but it seemed like Sam knew what he was doing.

“Okay,” Tommy said finally. He reached up and pulled the compass off his neck. “Let’s try this, then.”

Sam’s gaze softened. “Tommy, if you’re really not comfortable-”

“Of course I’m not fucking comfortable, Sam,” Tommy deadpanned. “Nothing about this is comfortable. My head spins when you’re nice to me, and sometimes I think you’re lying even when I know you’re telling the truth.” He held out the compass insistently. “I trust you, Sam, but part of me doesn’t believe that yet. So, I’m- I’m making me believe you. One step at a time, right?”

Slowly, carefully, Sam reached out and took the compass. “If you want this back, you just let me know. Even if I’m not done with it. I’ll give it back.”

Tommy nodded, trying to ignore the nagging voice in his head that reminded him that Sam could easily break the last piece he had of his and Tubbo’s friendship. “Yeah. Okay. Can I have my fucking clothes, now? I can- I’ll mend them while you… yeah.”

Sam smiled, handing over the set of nearly destroyed cloth. “Sure. Let’s go to the workshop, yeah? It’s quieter in there.”

After that, Sam and Tommy had settled into silence, each working on their own projects. Tommy really didn’t like the quiet all that much, but if he focused, he could hear Sam working with some iron pieces. He could hear the needle piercing cloth, and the rustling of fabric and Sam humming to himself on the other side of the room.

So, it wasn't exactly silence, but Tommy still felt that he had to fill a void. “What’s your favorite song, Sam?”

Sam glanced over at him. “Why do you ask?”

Tommy shrugged. “Heard you humming. Just… curious, I guess.” He tied off the bit of string he was sewing with and tugged the fabric to test the stitches. “I’m rather fond of Able Sisters, myself.”

“Able Sisters?” Sam asked, “Like, from Animal Crossing?”

“Yeah.” Tommy tied his newly patched together bandana around his neck. “I quite like Animal Crossing, Sam, it’s a very nice game.”

Sam smiled (or Tommy assumed he did) and went back to working on the compass. “For someone who doesn’t like gathering his own resources, you sure are fond of a game that’s almost exclusively about gathering resources.”

Tommy felt his face burn at the light-hearted jab. “Just because I go around stealing shit doesn’t mean I don’t know how to gather resources. I’m not fucking stupid.”

“I didn’t say you don’t know how,” Sam replied. “I just said that you don’t.” He gave Tommy a meaningful look. “And I would never call you stupid.” Then Sam tilted his head. “Although, now that I’m thinking about it, has anyone shown you where to gather resources? Or helped you do it?”

“No,” Tommy answered. “I’m a big man, Sammy-Boy, I can take care of myself. Don’t need people holding my hand and showing me how to do shit.” To prove his point, Tommy set to work on fixing his shirt. “I could gather the resources, if I wanted, it’s just… stealing is easier, I guess. Besides, everyone steals.”

He could feel Sam’s gaze linger on him for a moment, and Tommy tried to ignore it, only relaxing when he heard Sam tinkering with another piece of metal. “Are there any resources in particular that you’re wanting at the moment?”

Tommy pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I mean, anything that’ll help me get my discs back would be nice. Or something to put Dream back in his place, the bastard.”

“You make it sound like you’re getting ready for a fight,” Sam noted.

“Everything is a fight,” Tommy said. “You know how it is on this server.”

Sam chuckled under his breath. “Well, I seem to get on just fine without being involved with any fights.”

“Lucky bastard.” Tommy shoved his needle through a particularly stubborn seam. “Glad that worked out for you, but some of us don’t have a fucking choice, you know.”

“You’re saying that like you didn’t want to be part of the wars,” Sam noted.

“No, I did,” Tommy protested. “I did want to be there. I had to be.”

The creeper hybrid raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Tommy paused. “Because… everyone else was too much of a pussy to stand up to Dream?” He continued sewing. “Besides, Wilbur needed me to stay and I couldn’t just fucking leave him. Could you imagine? I’d have to be the most shit brother in the history of the world.”

“What about what you needed?”

The needle in Tommy’s hand slipped. “What- what do you mean?”

“You said Wilbur needed you to stay,” Sam said without looking up.

“I- yeah, but… I mean, I wanted to stay. With him. Because we had to…” Tommy trailed off, struggling to focus on the stitching in front of him. “It was for L’Manburg, Sam. It was his fucking legacy, you know. It was important to him.”

“But what about you?” Sam asked again, setting aside his tools and standing. “Not L’Manburg or Wilbur, I’m asking about you.”

Tommy ripped the needle away from the fabric so fast that the string snapped. “What about me, Sam?” he asked. “Wilbur needed me to fight, so I did. L’Manburg needed independence, so I got it.” And look where it got you, Theseus. “Every story needs its hero, right? I just played my fucking part.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Sam said. He held out Tommy’s compass, securely fastened to a chain that Tommy could put around his neck. “You fought so hard for a country that you can’t even live in.”

As if Tommy needed that bitter reminder. The Greeks knew the score. “Yeah, well, that’s just how it goes, sometimes.” Tommy took the compass and clasped it around his neck, hiding the metal under his bandana. “Win some, lose some, but you’re fighting either way. Violence is the only universal language.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And who told you that?”

“Technoblade,” Tommy answered. “After he-” What happens in the pit, stays in the pit. “After… Schlatt’s festival.”

“I’m beginning to think you need better adults in your life, Tommy.”

Tommy snorted. “You offering, Big Man?”

Sam gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “There’s a reason I’ve been trying to get you to move in here since Manburg, Tommy.” He offered Tommy a smile. “And, for the record, I’m not exactly fluent in Violence. So, if you ever need a different way out… well, fighting isn’t your only option.”

“Yeah, right,” Tommy went back to his needle and thread. “Solving conflicts without violence. Impossible.”

“Well, have you ever tried?”

Tommy thought back. “Uh… I mean, no, but it’s not like people really give you a choice here, Sam. You’re either part of the fight, or you’re not. It’s not- it’s not a ‘have a chat and sort out our feelings’ sort of thing.”

Sam hummed. “Well, I think this server would benefit from talking some things out,” he said. “You know, without dragging kids into war?”

And Tommy almost argued that no one dragged him into the wars. No one forced him to stay.

Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Wilbur had asked him in Pogtopia, just moments after Schlatt had offered Tommy a place in Manburg. Tommy hadn’t really wanted to go back to Manburg with Schlatt, he was only joking--because, really, why would he want to go anywhere with Schlatt?--but the way Wilbur asked had sent a shiver down his spine.

Maybe Wilbur never forced Tommy to stay, exactly, but… did Wilbur make him feel like he couldn’t leave?

“Well,” Tommy said, shoving the thought away, “next time I see some shit happening on the server, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Dunno how it’s gonna fix anything, but whatever.”

“Staying out of it is also an option,” Sam told him. “You could just focus on getting your discs back, if you wanted to.”

Tommy grinned through his own lingering doubts. “That’s just not my style, Big Man. Not if it involves my friends.” And aside from that, Tommy wasn’t sure if anyone would let him stay out of it, even if he wanted to. Dream certainly wouldn’t let him, and Technoblade wasn’t the only one that needed him to be a hero.

Sam’s expression was hard to decipher, but if Tommy had to equate it to something, it’d be sadness. He didn’t want Sam to be sad for him. He didn’t need pity, and he was about to say as much when Sam interjected with, “Do you want to go mining with me tomorrow?”

And it caught Tommy so off-guard that he couldn’t even question if Sam had an ulterior motive. “You seriously think I have anything to fucking mine with?”

“I have some tools you can borrow,” Sam told him. “We could work on making you some armor, if you want. I don’t have anything else to do.”

Making armor. Not destroying it.

Sam could always make you destroy it later, a nagging thought reminded him. He could still be just like Dream.

But, somehow, Tommy didn’t think so. “You know what? Yeah. Let’s go mining tomorrow. Better than staying in all the fucking time.” He went back to sewing while Sam went to let Fran back into the house.

For a first step, Tommy thought it was a pretty good one. Maybe he’d try believing Sam over the thoughts of doubt more often. It made his head spin a little less.

Notes:

Tommy has a role model that doesn't encourage violence as a solution to every single fucking problem? Pog?

Chapter 13: This Looks Familiar

Notes:

It's my AU and I get to choose which canon scenes to parallel. Also, Sam gets lore (kinda) because, why not?

Seeing Tommy in his classic red and white was almost startling. If Sam ignored the dark circles under his eyes, the lingering scars, and the way clothes still hung off his too-thin frame, he could almost see the kid Tommy had been before the wars started.

But he couldn’t ignore it. Tommy wasn’t going to get better if he ignored it.

Part of him wondered what would have happened if Tommy had run to someone else. He supposed the snow biome was always an option, and Technoblade might not have even said ‘no’ to Tommy, but Sam couldn’t see Technoblade being able to handle Tommy’s trauma with any sort of delicacy.

If anything, they’d probably butt heads over things. Tommy was still quick to snap, defending himself, and from what Sam knew, the Blade was never one to back down. They’d argue more than speak, which might actually traumatize Tommy more, if an argument ever went south. Really, with their combined lack of communication skills, something as simple as a misunderstanding, or a miscommunication, could set them off. 

Sam was suddenly very glad Tommy hadn’t gone to Technoblade. He didn’t have anything against the anarchist, exactly, but that didn’t mean he respected the guy, either.

Tommy, on the other hand… Tommy seemed to respect Technoblade more than Sam could ever understand.

“He’s a great fighter, Techno is,” Tommy told him plainly. “Someone that fucking strong, just- he kinda has my respect, like, by default.”

“Fighting isn’t everything, you know,” Sam reminded him. He had to do that a lot, it seemed. It made him wonder if anyone had ever told Tommy that. “Didn’t he set withers on you guys?”

Scarred hands spun a pickaxe idly. “Well…” Tommy drawled. “Yes. But!” He stilled the pickaxe and waved his free hand flippantly. “Just because you don’t like a person, doesn’t mean you can’t respect them. Dream is a right bastard, but everyone seems to respect him just fine.”

Sam considered that for a moment. “Fair point.” He went back to gathering things they’d need for a day out. Food, obviously, and armor for any mobs that they ran into. Extra tools in the event that any of theirs got lost. An assortment of potions, healing included.

“So,” Tommy said, the pickaxe disappearing into his inventory. “Where we headed, Big Man?”

Sam shrugged. “I was thinking about going to the Nether. You still need a set of armor, right?”

Tommy hesitated. “Uh… sure. That works.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Just as long as we… like, we’re not going any farther than that, right?”

“No,” Sam answered. “Not if you don’t want to.” He didn’t bother asking why. He knew Logstedshire was on the other side of the portal.

“Cool.” Tommy cleared his throat. “Because- because I hate walking, Sam. Really, I do. I’m actually very weak, physically, and I don’t like exerting energy.” He flashed Sam a grin. “Yet another reason to be a thief, yeah?”

Sam returned the smile. “You know you don’t have to give me excuses, right? If you say you don’t want to do something, that’s all you have to say.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “Okay? Um… well, I don’t want to go past the Nether.”

“Then we won’t.” Sam double-checked his inventory. “And if you need a break at any point, let me know, okay? I know you’re still recovering.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy said. “I’m perfectly fine.” He snatched an apple out of Sam’s chest and bit down on it forcefully, like that might prove his point.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling under his mask. “Of course, Tommy.” He hooked Fran to her leash and closed his chest before Tommy could steal anything else. “Also, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d prefer you not to steal from me. I’d rather you just ask, okay?”

Tommy took another bite of the apple he’d stolen. “What if you say no?”

“Then I say no,” Sam answered. “That happens, sometimes.”

“But what if I need it?” Tommy questioned.

“I can help you find something, if you need it,” Sam said as they walked to the front of the house. “Or tell you how to make it, if that’s what you want. I don’t mind helping you.” He pushed the button to open the door. “I’d just rather you not steal. It’s gonna get you in trouble, one of these days.”

Tommy scoffed. “Oh, it’s already gotten me in plenty of fucking trouble, Big Man.”

“Then why do it?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know.” Tommy tossed the apple in the air and caught it. “Why not do it?”

It was a bit like talking to a very small child sometimes, Sam was finding. Not because Tommy was being overly childish, not intentionally, just that he genuinely just didn’t seem to understand why it wasn’t acceptable to do certain things. It was almost as though no one taught him.

Or used violence as a form of teaching and called punishments a ‘lesson’.

But Dream was still a touchy subject, one Sam would rather not breach on what was supposed to be a simple day of mining.

Sam closed the door behind them as soon as Tommy stepped outside. “Tommy, how do you feel when people take your things?”

Tommy frowned. “I don’t… like it.” He glanced down at the half-eaten apple he was holding for a moment. “Doesn’t fucking stop anyone from doing it, though,” he concluded before taking another bite. “They still take my shit, grief my house, and all that.”

“Just because they do it, doesn’t mean you should,” Sam pointed out.

“But if they get to steal and blow up houses and shit, why shouldn’t I?” Tommy whined. “That’s not fair.”

Sam nodded. “You’re right, that’s not fair. They shouldn’t get to steal from you.” He paused to let Fran sniff at a flower before walking again. “But just because other people aren’t doing the right thing, doesn’t give you an excuse to do the wrong thing.” He shrugged. “And who knows? Maybe if you stop stealing from everyone, they’d stop stealing, too.”

Tommy huffed. “Okay, I fucking get the Golden Rule shit.” He readjusted his grip on the pickaxe. “But what if… what if you try doing the right thing, yeah? Like, for a while, you just- you try and do everything right. Follow all the rules and all that other bullshit. And people still… you know?” He glanced away, avoiding Sam’s gaze. “What if they treat you the same either way?”

And Sam… didn’t really have an answer for that. Not an easy answer, anyway.

“Because I did try that, Sam,” Tommy said. “With Wilbur? I did everything he wanted me to, but he still blew up the country. So, I just kinda gave up on it.” His eyes narrowed. “What do I- how am I supposed to do the right thing when everyone wants something different from me?”

Now that Sam could answer a little easier. “Don’t worry about what other people want from you,” he told Tommy. “Be the person you want to be.”

Tommy finished off the apple and tossed the core aside. “What if I don’t know who that is?”

That’s heartbreaking, Sam barely refrained from saying. “Give yourself time to figure it out,” he said instead. “You’re in a safe enough place to do it.”

The sound of a communicator going off interrupted Tommy before he could respond. “Hang on,” he said, pulling out the device and looking over the message. “Oh, it’s just Ranboo.” He typed out a response. “Been messaging me a lot. Fucking clingy, just like Tubbo. I bet they get along.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you message Ranboo first?”

“Shut up,” Tommy replied without looking up from his communicator. Sam laughed and pretended he didn’t see the way Tommy’s cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment.

“I don’t think I’ve met Ranboo,” Sam said once Tommy put his communicator away. “You said he’s a friend of yours?”

Tommy nodded. “Pretty much the only person to visit me regularly in exile, other than… other than Dream.” He shook himself. “Gotta keep up those Snapchat streaks, you know.”

Sam did not know. “Well, he sounds like a good kid, in any case. You think he’d want to come out here for a visit? I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“You might not be,” Tommy said, “but I’m not sure. He’s friends with Tubbo, right? Which, like, fine. That’s fine, I don’t fucking care.” It sounded like he might have cared a little. “But what if he decides to tell Tubbo where I am? Just ‘cause… you know friends and shit, they tell each other everything.”

“He’s your friend, too, Tommy,” Sam pointed out. “Tubbo said he’d stop asking about your location, remember? I’m sure if you asked Ranboo not to share, then he wouldn’t. He’s stuck up for you before.” Also, Sam just figured Tommy could use the company. From what little information Sam had about exile, it seemed like Ranboo had been one of the few people Tommy could rely on.

Tommy hummed thoughtfully. “I guess.” He fiddled with the edge of his bandana. “Okay. Sure. I guess… I’m not opposed to him visiting, either.” He glanced up at Sam nervously. “As long as- like, you’re fine with him coming over, I mean.”

“Already said I’m not opposed, Tommy,” Sam reminded him.

“Right, right, right,” Tommy said quickly. “I fucking knew that.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes, interrupted once by Fran barking at a distant skeleton. Tommy eyed it warily, relieved when it didn’t seem particularly interested in firing its bow, but still walked a little closer to Fran and made idle conversation. Tommy would deny it if Sam pointed it out, so he didn’t. Besides, it wasn’t like Sam minded.

Tommy only quieted again once they reached the Nether portal. “You okay, Tommy?” Sam asked.

“Never better,” came Tommy’s strained response. “Let’s just go, yeah?”

Sam put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey. Seriously. Do you need to take a second?”

“No,” Tommy replied. “It’s, uh… how long are we gonna be here?”

“Not long,” Sam assured him. “Just need to find some ancient debris, and we should be all set. I have everything else we’d need at the house.”

Tommy nodded. “Cool,” he said, but he made no move towards the portal.

Sam studied Tommy for a moment. He had a feeling that Tommy wouldn’t tell him what was going on, no matter how many times he asked, so he decided to just watch Tommy carefully until they were done.

There was a blast of heat as Sam stepped through the portal, Tommy close behind. Fran grunted at the sudden warmth, but otherwise seemed unbothered. Sam knew the Nether was off-putting to some, and intolerable for others, but he never did mind it so much. Maybe it was his creeper nature that the warmer biomes were always where he felt most comfortable.

Tommy however didn’t seem to share his sentiment. The pickaxe was pulled from his inventory and gripped tightly in his hand. There were no mobs around, Tommy had nothing to be afraid of, but that didn’t seem to stop the teenager from being on edge.

They stuck to the lower levels, occasionally stopping to mine a bit before moving on when they couldn’t find anything. Sam found that he had to prompt Tommy to keep working every so often (the kid was clearly unused to mining), but if he ever seemed especially worn out, Sam just let him take a minute to sit with Fran.

All in all, even if they didn’t find any ancient debris, Sam already considered it a pretty successful trip, if only because Tommy was learning to be just the slightest bit more self-sufficient.

As they explored, they passed a bridge that stretched over the ocean of lava. It was a winding thing, built with mismatched material, and Sam couldn’t help but wonder, “How long has that been here? I haven’t visited the Nether in a while.”

“Couple months,” Tommy answered stiffly, not even bothering to look up at the bridge. If anything, Tommy seemed to be perfectly content walking through the Nether looking at nothing except for what was straight ahead of him.

Fran tilted her at the bridge curiously, tugging a bit at her leash like she wanted to go up and get a better look at it. Sam kept a firm hold on her so that she wouldn’t try taking off. “Who built it?”

“Me.” Sam looked down at Tommy, somewhat surprised by the answer. “It leads to Logstedshire.” The teenager’s gaze was fixed on something distant that Sam couldn’t place.  “I’m good at making paths,” he said quietly.

Sam felt Fran tug at her leash again, this time in Tommy’s direction, and Sam let her go to him. She butted her head against Tommy’s leg, which seemed to snap him out of his trance. “You need a break?” Sam asked Tommy.

“I’m fine.”

That wasn’t what Sam asked. He decided not to press and just keep walking. “We’ll just find somewhere else to mine, then,” he said, making sure Tommy was still following. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find another spot. The Nether is a big place.”

Tommy nodded, his free hand running through Fran’s fur. “And if we don’t?”

“We can always come back a different day,” Sam replied.

“You ever get lost doing shit like this?” Tommy asked. “You’re a bit of a builder, right? Collecting materials all the time?”

Sam laughed. “Oh, yeah. I used to get lost all the time. I’d get distracted with mining and forget which direction I came from.” He took a moment to clear some blocks in their path. “I got better about it once I got Fran. She’s good at finding home.”

Tommy glanced down at Fran before looking back up at Sam. “You said she’s… an emotional support dog, yeah?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Emotional support… for what?”

It was a question Sam expected Tommy to ask. Honestly, he was surprised that it hadn’t come up sooner. “When I was younger, I was… a bit volatile. Had some anger issues, and that’s not really good for someone of my nature, so Fran was there to help me calm myself down.”

Tommy frowned. “Someone of your- oh. The creeper bit.” His eyes flew wide. “You don’t, like, fucking explode, do you?”

Sam shook his head. “No. Fortunately, that’s a trait that I didn’t get.” He imagined it’d be messy if he did. Neat party trick, exploding was, but he’d only be able to do it once. “But I was explosive in other ways. Didn’t always think before I said things. Or did things.”

“No way,” Tommy said firmly. “You’re, like, the most neutral person on this server. I can’t see you committing a violence.”

“Committing a-” Sam chuckled at grammatically incorrect statement before continuing, “Well, the fact that you find it difficult to believe I was ever a hostile little bastard makes me feel pretty good about my progress.”

Tommy moved in front of Sam, turning to face him and walking backwards. “No, no, no. Wait a fucking minute, there, Big Man.” He pointed to Sam accusingly. “You’re telling me that you used to be, like, a completely different fucking person?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah.” He reached out and guided Tommy around a jutting piece of rock. “And it’s not like I don’t get angry anymore. I do still get angry-- really angry, sometimes--but I’ve learned how to control it better. Make better choices.”

“How?” Tommy demanded, still walking backwards. “How did you do that?”

“It takes a lot of work,” Sam admitted. “And time. Luckily, I had friends who were patient enough to help me.” He stopped Tommy before the teenager walked himself backwards into a hole. “But you have to be patient with yourself, too.”

Tommy turned back around so that he was walking forward again. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means change doesn’t happen overnight,” Sam told him. “Sometimes it’s gonna seem like you’re not making progress, but you are. Even if it’s not as fast as you want it to be. You can’t be frustrated with yourself for not getting everything right away, because the important thing is that you’re trying.”

“You think I could do that?” Tommy asked. “Be, uh… less angry and shit? Make better choices? Like you said?”

“I think anyone can.” Sam stopped to start mining again. “You just have to be willing to try.”

Tommy went quiet after that. Sam left him to his thoughts. If the teenager had questions, Sam was sure he’d ask. Besides, Sam had a few of his own thoughts to sort through.

He hadn’t expected his own personal story to resonate with Tommy like it did but, if he thought about it, he supposed it made sense. Tommy was impulsive, angry, and exposed to far too much violence for someone his age. Sam couldn’t say he was exactly surprised by Tommy’s abrasive nature, growing up in an environment like that.

No wonder Tommy didn’t know how to solve problems without violence. Violence was all Tommy had ever known.

Sam wasn’t sure how long he’d been mining, lost in his thoughts, debating whether he should give Puffy another call, when Fran suddenly started barking. “What is it?” Sam turned to see what she was barking at. “Tommy, do you see what she’s…” he trailed off.

Tommy was gone.

“Tommy?” Sam picked up a discarded pickaxe. “Tommy!” Panic settled over Sam. There were still no mobs in the area, and Sam couldn’t hear anything close enough to be a concern. “Fuck.” The sound of his communicator startled him, just barely audible over the blood rushing in his ear. He fumbled with it, relieved to see Tommy’s name on the screen, and immediately answered the call. “Tommy?”

There was a stuttering breath on the other side of the line before a trembling voice asked, “Sam, where are you?”

Sam grabbed Fran’s leash and started walking, scanning the landscape for Tommy. “I never moved, Tommy. Where’d you go?”

“I’m… on the bridge?” came the uncertain reply. “The one to Logstedshire. I just- I started walking, and now I’m here but, um…”

On the bridge, on the bridge, on the bridge. What was it Quackity had said about a cobblestone tower? “Tommy, hey,” Sam said gently, trying to get Tommy to refocus on his voice. “Just wait right there, okay? I’m already headed back.”

“I want to go home,” Tommy whispered. “Can I please go home?”

Something in Sam broke at that.

Fran barked again, the bridge in sight. Sam let go of her leash and let her bound towards it. She‘d get to Tommy before Sam did, but that didn’t matter, as long as Tommy was safe when he got there. He could see the teenager in the distance, if he squinted through the waves of heat rolling off the lava around them. A white and red blur against the unforgiving heat, standing far too close to the edge of an already narrow bridge.

A child on a path he built himself. A child who wanted to be found.

“Yeah, Tommy,” Sam murmured, hiding his breaking heart in reassurances, “we can go home.”

Notes:

Don't worry, this particular bit is getting a second part. Tommy POV next chapter, pog.

Referencing canon? In my AU? More likely than you think.

Chapter 14: This Feels Different

Notes:

Tommy in the Nether, alone with his thoughts, what will he do?

Tommy thought he’d be fine.

The conversation with Sam had been… was ‘enlightening’ the word? In any case, it gave him a little perspective on some of his issues. The healing and shit. That’s what he wanted, he was pretty sure. He wanted to be better, and Sam believed he could! It should have been a relief.

And maybe that’s why he thought he’d be okay enough to wander. He was used to venturing off, and he hadn’t been anywhere except Logstedshire in so long that it still felt kind of taboo to be anywhere. Especially the Nether, where Dream had explicitly told him he could not go.

But he wasn’t thinking about Dream. He wasn’t.

He just wanted a moment to think over what Sam had said, just to let it all really sink in. He had tried to be better before. Admittedly, maybe he didn’t try as much as he should have, but only because it had never seemed worth the trouble. He was going to get fucked over either way, so why not just have fun? Why not push boundaries? Why not bend the rules until they break?

Why not be the bad guy?

Which was exactly where Tommy’s thoughts fucked him over.

Everything had been fine. Perfectly fine. Tommy had been fine, better than he’d felt in weeks, but just the mere thought of Wilbur or Dream sent him spiraling?

That didn’t feel like progress. That didn’t feel like anything.

Somewhere in the swarm of voices --Dream, Techno, Wilbur. Every bad thing that has ever happened, and it was all your fault-- there was another. It was gentle, and quiet, and not quite enough to reach the forefront of his mind.

He wasn’t sure what made him go to the bridge. Maybe Dream, still trying to trap him in Logstedshire. Maybe Technoblade, telling him to die like a hero. Maybe Wilbur, who also seemed to find comfort of fiery distraction.

And it did look comforting, the lava did. Just as much as it did before, when Dream had to stop him from jumping in, hitting him until he backed up and saying that it wasn’t his time to die.

Dream wasn’t around right now, Tommy noted dully. Wasn’t that funny? Dream couldn’t stop him. Dream, for all his love of control and power, could do absolutely nothing to stop him. And neither could Ranboo or Quackity, not even Tubbo could.

The only person that could was-

I want you to feel safe here.

Tommy inhaled sharply, crossing his arms over himself and digging his nails into his arms to bring himself back to the present. “Sam,” he breathed. He swallowed back the fear rising in his throat, shakily pulling out his communicator. His vision was blurred, and his hands trembled, but he still found Sam’s name and pressed it.

An eternity of seconds passed before Sam answered, “Tommy?”

Tommy forced himself to take another breath before responding, “Sam, where are you?” His free hand still dug into his arm painfully, keeping himself steady so that he didn’t drop the communicator.

“I never moved, Tommy. Where’d you go?”

That was an interesting question. Tommy blinked down at the lava below him. “I’m… on the bridge?” he said slowly. “The one to Logstedshire. I just- I started walking, and now I’m here but, um…” But he didn’t want to be here, he wasn’t supposed to be here, Dream would be so angry if he found out-

“Tommy, hey,” Sam said, and it was just enough for Tommy to pull away from his thoughts again. “Just wait right there, okay? I’m already headed back.”

“I want to go home,” Tommy whispered before he could stop himself. “Can I please go home?” Dream would have been pissed if he asked. But, for once, Tommy didn’t think he was asking to go back to L’Manburg.

“Yeah, Tommy,” Sam murmured, and Tommy could hear Fran barking somewhere nearby, “we can go home.”

Something fuzzy pressed against Tommy’s leg, and he released his arm to reach out for it blindly. “Fran’s here,” he told Sam.

“I know,” Sam said. “I’m right behind her, don’t worry.”

“Where?” Tommy asked. “Sam, where-”

“Tommy.”

Tommy flinched away from the voice, waiting for it to start shouting or shoving him away. He didn’t want to look up. The cruel smile would be too much to handle.

“Tommy, do you think you could look at me for a second?”

It took far more willpower than it should have to drag his gaze away from the lava. Red eyes gazed down at him, soft with concern and decidedly not smiling. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey, Tommy,” Sam replied.

There was a moment of silence before Tommy spoke again. “We didn’t find anything.” They came out to do one thing, and Tommy had ruined it. Sam was doing this for him, and he ruined it, just like he ruined everything else.

“I don’t care about that,” Sam told him. “I care more about your well-being than some materials. I can go mining any day.” Tommy felt like Sam was missing his point, but he was too tired to try and explain. “Tommy, do you want to tell me what happened?”

Tommy grabbed his bandana with the hand that wasn’t petting Fran and tugged at it anxiously. “I thought I’d be okay. Just wanted… just exploring.”

Sam nodded. “Do you not feel okay anymore?” Tommy shook his head wordlessly. “Do you know why?”

Fran whimpered and pressed against Tommy’s leg, forcing him to take a step back. “I was… I was just thinking and shit. About what you said.” Sam tilted his head, but said nothing, waiting for Tommy to continue. “And I started thinking, like… you say that you believe I can get better, but- but how do you know?”

“Like I said, Tommy: I think anyone can.” Sam reached out and put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, gently guiding him further from the edge. “You just have to be willing to put in the effort. It’s not always easy, but I do believe people can get better if they try.”

“Wilbur didn’t,” Tommy whispered. “Wilbur didn’t get better.” He had wanted so badly for Wilbur to get better. He just wanted his older brother back.

“Wilbur didn’t want to be better,” Sam pointed out.

And Tommy did know that, he had watched first-hand how Wilbur’s mind deteriorated in Pogtopia, but that didn’t stop the worry from tying his stomach into knots. “But what if I’m- what if I turn out just like him?” he asked. “What if I don’t get better, Sam? I don’t want to be the bad guy.”

“You’re not the bad guy,” Sam said simply. “You’ve just made a few bad choices, but so has everyone else. You’re not some corrupt or evil person because of a few mistakes. Nothing about you is irredeemably bad, Tommy, because you’re already good.”

Tommy’s breath hitched in a way that made him think he might scream or laugh or cry, and he didn’t know which would be worse. No one believed that Tommy was good. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

Now Sam’s eyes did smile, but it didn’t feel cruel. “I never say things I don’t mean.” And the hand on his shoulder was so comforting and Sam’s voice was so warm, and Tommy wasn’t sure if anyone had ever sounded so genuinely sincere.

Tommy wanted to be angry. He wanted to accuse Sam of pitying him and be angry, because it was safer to be angry than weak. He was untouchable if he was angry. He could hide behind it. He wondered what he was supposed to do when he didn’t feel like hiding anymore.

“Tommy?” Sam prompted. “You still with me?”

He took a moment to find his voice. “Yeah, yeah. I just… sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Sam said. “Let’s go ahead and go home, okay? I’ll make some not-potato-soup.”

Despite everything, Tommy laughed. “Fuck, yeah, Big Man.” His voice was strained and his laugh wasn’t as loud as he wanted it to be, but he found that he didn’t care all that much. He didn’t need a facade with Sam. He didn’t have to fake it.

Sam reattached Fran’s leash, though she still walked close to Tommy’s side as they walked. “You know, if the Nether makes you uncomfortable, you could have just told me.”

Tommy shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered,” he admitted. “It was- it’s just a stupid thing, anyway.” Sam seemed to accept that as an answer, and maybe it was Sam not forcing him to talk about it that made Tommy want to be more honest. “Dream, he… he told me that I wasn’t allowed to be in the Nether.”

“How come?”

And as much as Tommy wanted to tell him, his throat started to close around the words. He couldn’t talk about the lava for the same reason he couldn’t talk about the tower. Maybe someday, but not now. “Dream had his reasons.”

Sam hummed, but didn’t pry. “Well, how about we just avoid the Nether, huh? At least until you’re comfortable to walk through it again.”

“Sure.” Tommy patted the top of Fran’s head. “Uh… hey, Sam?”

“Hm?”

Tommy hesitated, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Like, you don’t…” Tommy pursed his lips, trying to put his thoughts in order. “Anyone else would tell me to- they’d say, oh, meh meh meh meh, suck it up, it’s just the Nether, it’s not that bad, but you don’t do that.”

Sam shrugged. “Would you tell Tubbo to ‘suck it up’ if fireworks started going off?”

“What? No!” Tommy said indignantly. “Tubbo fucking hates fireworks, what kind of question is- oh.” He thought about that for a moment. “Okay. Is that why you don’t make me talk about shit? About… about Dream and all that?”

“Yep,” Sam confirmed. “We’ve discussed boundaries before, Tommy. You respect mine and I’ll respect yours.” His gaze turned to Tommy. “You know, after Manburg, Quackity didn’t tell me everything that happened with Schlatt right away. It took time before he was able to trust me, and longer before he could trust Karl and Sapnap.”

Tommy shuddered at the mention of Schlatt. He wondered if Tubbo had told anyone other than him about what Schlatt had put him through. “But he’s better now, right? Big Q is better?”

Sam ruffled Tommy’s hair. “I don’t know if I’d say he’s better, because that’s not really how it works, but he’s learned to trust people again. He’s coping.” Tommy swatted Sam’s hand away. “But he’s coping because he gave himself the time to do it, instead of throwing himself into the next big thing.”

“So, I just need time?” Tommy asked. “To cope, I mean. That’s how I start getting better?”

“Mm-hm,” Sam confirmed. “No throwing yourself into fights. No wars, no conflict, none of that.”

Tommy frowned. “But what about my discs?” he asked.

Sam considered the question for a moment. “We’ll see about getting those without violence first, okay?”

“Boring,” Tommy replied.

“But it’s gonna help,” Sam countered.

He knew Sam was right, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Fighting was supposed to be the cure-all. Have a problem?  Fight it. It was quick and easy and… maybe not the most efficient thing in the world, but it was the only solution Tommy knew that worked at least most of the time.

...some of the time. Actually, if he thought about it, fighting seemed to almost exclusively cause his problems, not solve them. 

Maybe it was time to learn a different way to sort out his issues.

Tommy sighed in relief as the portal came into view. “Oh, thank fucking god.” He jumped through the portal, confident that Sam and Fran were behind him. The cool breeze felt like a blessing  after the hellish warmth of the Nether. “I fucking hate the Nether,” Tommy muttered at the open air.

Sam was laughing when he came through the portal. “Take it easy, Tommy. You’re still recovering.”

“Stop with that,” Tommy protested. “I’m the biggest man on this server, Sammy-Boy! I don’t need no recovery.” He still slowed down, though. But only because he wanted to pet Fran, and definitely not because Sam had asked him to. “I bet I could kick your arse right now.”

“Okay, Tommy.”

“No, really,” Tommy insisted. “If we went head-to-head right now, I’d fucking win.”

“I’m sure,” Sam said, and it didn’t sound nearly as patronizing as it would have coming from Technoblade or Dream.

Fran, on the other hand, seemed to have something to prove.

Tommy yelped in surprise when about ninety-five pounds of white floof dropped onto his back. “Hey!” He struggled to sit himself up, but Fran retaliated by licking his hair. “Fucking- stop that!” Fran barked happily. “Sam,” Tommy whined, “get your bitch off of me!”

“Don’t call Fran a bitch,” Sam scolded lightly, clearly stifling a laugh.

“But she is one!” Tommy, giving up on trying to sit, attempted to roll over instead. “That’s, like, science and shit. She is a female dog and a bitch!” He succeeded in getting on his back, only for Fran to start licking his face. “Fran, quit!”

It took maybe two minutes for Sam to stop laughing and help, and another ten for him to actually wrestle the dog off of Tommy. Fran, oblivious to Tommy's suffering, continued to try using him as a chew toy. So Tommy, of course, griped the entire time, because how dare Fran. How dare. There was gonna be fur all over his shirt now, and grass stains fucking everywhere.

Sam was kind enough to let him, though. Tommy was really just complaining for the sake of complaining but the hybrid didn’t seem to mind. Maybe because Sam knew that, for all his shouting, Tommy wasn’t really all that mad.

It was a nice way to wrap up their useless mining trip, Tommy supposed. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d laughed so hard.

Notes:

Yooooooo, who's ready for Oreo Boy to start getting more involved in shit?

Chapter 15: Out of Trouble

Notes:

Me: I wonder how I can reintroduce Dream into the story without it seeming forced.

Writer Brain: ... :)

Me: Oh yeah, Ranboo, lmao.

Anyhow, uh... full disclosure, this is mostly just some nice filler before shit hits the fan. I mean, you guys didn't think I was gonna leave Dream out of the picture forever, did you? Prepare to have another little bit of canon paralleled sometime within the next few chapters. Which one? Who knows? Take a wild guess.

Ranboo didn’t like to keep secrets. But he was learning that, on this server, they were a necessary evil. Everyone had them--some less harmful than others--and Ranboo liked to believe that his secrets weren’t particularly malicious.

The biggest secret, at the moment, were the coordinates Tommy sent him. Not many people knew where Sam’s base actually was, and even fewer knew that it was Tommy’s current hiding spot. As soon as he got the message, he had scribbled it down in his memory book, determined to visit Tommy.

His memory books were filling up fast nowadays. Between Tommy’s exile, Quackity’s army, and Technoblade’s trial, there were a lot of things to keep track of. To remember. Luckily, he had his books for that, and no one ever got ahold of his books, so he felt confident in keeping Tommy’s location there alongside everything else.

While he was excited to be seeing Tommy again, Ranboo wasn’t sure about Sam. He respected the guy for staying out of the wars and all, and he respected Sam even more for harboring Tommy, but he didn’t know Sam. Not the way he knew Tubbo or Tommy.

Still, he was going to give Sam the benefit of the doubt. Unless Sam gave Ranboo a reason not to trust him, there was really no reason to cast suspicion. Especially when suspicion and doubt seemed to cause a lot of problems anyway.

Speaking of, Ranboo wondered how long it was going to be before Quackity started throwing suspicion his way. He didn’t exactly hide the fact that he was skeptical about the Butcher Army idea, and considering how on edge Quackity was about the Technoblade situation, Ranboo could only assume it wouldn’t be long before he was accused of treason or something.

It’s what they’d done to Tommy, right? A few cruel words from an even crueler manipulator, and everyone’s morals and common sense went out the window. 

Not that Ranboo blamed Tubbo, and he didn’t think Tommy did either (though he figured Tommy might be bitter). How could L’Manburg expect teenagers to stand up to someone like Dream? The man who owned the server? There was only so much one kid could do when confronted with walls of obsidian.

The walls and the threats weren’t Tommy’s fault, though. Dream tried to make it seem like Tommy’s fault, but it wasn’t. Tommy just took the fall.

He seemed to do that often. The history of L’Manburg seemed to be exclusively teenagers taking the fall for the adults’ stupid decisions. Tubbo, Tommy, both forced through wars, one forced into presidency, the other forced into exile. And that was only the things that Ranboo happened to remember reading or things that he had witnessed.

It made Ranboo shudder to think what strings Dream might be pulling behind the scenes that he didn’t see.

Dream was… a character. Ranboo wouldn’t say he hated anyone on the server, but Dream came pretty close. He just couldn’t understand how someone could so easily ruin someone’s life. A kid’s life, no less, and use his best friend against him to do it.

No matter what Quackity said about Technoblade, Ranboo was sure that the biggest threat to the server was Dream. No question about it.

Ranboo checked the coordinates again. Sam’s base was really tucked away, which was probably a good idea if he wanted to avoid conflict. “Should be…” He quickly scanned the area, looking for a hill with a door. “Uh…” He rounded the base of a particularly large hill, elated to find a door big enough to belong to a small fortress. “Here!”

He took a moment to shoot Tommy a message, I’m here, before knocking on the door. Tommy was in hiding, after all, so he’d probably appreciate a heads up before people went knocking on the door of his sanctuary. In response to his knock, the door opened slowly--and loudly--to a cozy looking base.

And blocking his way in was Sam. “Um-”

“Sh,” Sam hushed, “Tommy isn’t up, yet.” He stood aside to let Ranboo in and added, “He had kind of a rough time yesterday, so I’m letting him rest as much as he can. He doesn’t get much sleep, nowadays.”

Ranboo knew about the lack of sleep. Tommy had feared Dream more than he craved sleep, and there were a few times that Ranboo came to visit Tommy only to find him half asleep against a tree. Other times, Tommy would be wringing out his shirt, cursing under his breath.

Something about waking up in the ocean. Which was terrifying, so Ranboo decided to change subjects, “What happened yesterday?” Ranboo asked as he crossed the threshold of Sam’s base. He didn’t have to duck to get in the entryway, like he did most places, which was kind of nice. “Is he okay?”

Sam gestured for Ranboo to sit. “As okay as he can be. Apparently, Dream told him that he couldn’t be in the Nether. He kinda got in his own head about it, stood on the bridge for a little bit.” Something in Sam’s gaze flickered at that. “But he’s alright now.”

Ranboo almost asked. He wanted so desperately to ask, because the way Samsaid ‘bridge’ sounded an awful lot like the way Tubbo said ‘cobblestone tower’ and Ranboo needed to know that Tommy wasn’t going to hurl himself off the next tallest object.

He would’ve asked… if it weren’t for the blur of white that crashed into him. “Whoa! Hey! What-?”

“Fran,” Sam clarified. “Which means Tommy shouldn’t be too far behind.” Fran barked happily at the mention of Tommy, jumping off of Ranboo and running back down the hallway.

Fran’s bark was met with a grumble that Ranboo could barely hear. “Fuck off, Fran. What’re you so excited about?” Tommy stumbled into the room, still rubbing at his eyes while Fran ran circles around him. “You’re gonna trip me, cut it out.”

Ranboo smiled at the sight of Tommy trying to sleepily weave around Fran, who seemed far more awake than he was. “Hey, Tommy,” he greeted.

Tommy’s gaze snapped to Ranboo, a grin overtaking his features. “Ranbitch!”

Sam chuckled at the nickname. “Really, Tommy?” he asked. It didn’t sound as annoyed as Ranboo expected. Most adults tended to take a more irritated tone with Tommy. Ranboo found himself appreciating Sam more and more.

“It’s fine,” Ranboo said. “I don’t mind it.”

“You don’t mind because you’re a little bitch boy!” Tommy crowed, falling backwards on the couch next to Ranboo. “How long have you been here, anyway?”

Ranboo scooted to give Fran some room next to Tommy. “Not too long. I only got here, like, a minute ago, actually.”

Tommy wrapped his arms around Fran and yawned, burrowing into the white fur. “Didn’t tell nobody where you were going, did you?”

“Nope,” Ranboo replied. “Not even Tubbo.”

Sam nodded. “Good. Although, I should tell you, Quackity does already know.”

Ranboo’s tail flicked, his suspicions about Quackity’s odd behavior regarding Tommy being confirmed. “I knew it,” he muttered. “I knew he was hiding something.” Tommy sat up, looking alarmed, and Ranboo was quick to placate him with, “He was acting off when Tubbo said you were alive. It just- it seemed like he knew something and wasn’t sharing, that’s all. Nothing about it would give away your location, don’t worry.”

Tommy relaxed minutely at that. “Thank fucking god,” he said as he leaned back into Fran. “Because you and Big Q are the only people I want to know right now.” He was quiet for a moment. “Maybe I’ll tell Tubbo. You know, eventually. When everything dies down a little.”

There was really no telling how long that would take. If Ghostbur’s history book were anything to go by, things never really ‘died down’ on the SMP. Not anything involving Dream or Tommy, anyway, and certainly not anything involving both of them.

“How is Tubbo, by the way?” Tommy asked. “I know he was- Big Q told me he was having a rough go of it, after Logstedshire, but, uh… you know. How is he?”

An excellent question. “He’s doing alright, I think,” Ranboo said. “A little stressed out, with the trial and all, but other than that-”

“Trial?” Sam interjected. “So Quackity did talk to you about Technoblade?”

Ranboo vaguely remembered Quackity saying the trial was his father’s idea-- Sam’s idea. “Yeah. Said it would pretty much guarantee his execution.”

Tommy groaned. “Is he still on about that shit?” He sat up, ignoring Fran’s whine of protest. “It’s gonna blow up in his face, just you watch.” Ranboo hoped that wasn’t literal. Empty hope, given the server’s affinity for explosion.

“Tubbo hasn’t actually decided if we’re doing the trial or not,” Ranboo admitted. “We’re supposed to be interrogating Philza, just to get Techno’s location, but Tubbo’s postponed it until he makes a decision.” He scratched idly at his cheek. “Jeez, how long ago was that meeting? I guess it was the day after Tubbo found out you were alive?”

Sam hummed. “So, the day after Q came over.”

“Yeah,” Tommy muttered, still not sounding completely awake. “Not-potato-soup.”

Ranboo decided to disregard the out of context mutterings of Sleepy Innit. “Mm-hm. Anyway, Tubbo said he’d make a decision in five days, but I’m pretty sure he’s gonna go through with the trial.”

Tommy frowned. “Five days? That’s- okay. You had the meeting… what? Two days ago? Three?” He ran a hand over his face. “Fuck, that’s not a lot of time. Hope Tubbo doesn’t fuck that up.”

“Tommy,” Sam said gently, “you can’t control what L’Manburg does at this point. Whatever decision Tubbo makes isn’t your responsibility.”

“I know,” Tommy said. “But, like… Philza is a good man, yeah? He doesn’t- I mean, Technoblade deserves it, a little bit, sure, but Phil shouldn’t have to be dragged into it. That seems a bit shit, if you ask me.”

And Ranboo did have to agree, Philza seemed nice enough, and he certainly wasn’t deserving of an unwarranted search (which he knew was exactly what Quackity planned to do if Phil didn’t comply).

It almost looked like Tommy was going to say something else, but he shook his head and smiled. “Hey! You should see this fucking workshop Sam’s got.” He slid off the couch, leaving Fran to her cozy spot in the cushions. “Sam, can I show him? Can I show him the workshop?”

Sam nodded. “Sure. Just don’t steal anything, alright?”

Tommy waved a hand flippantly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He grabbed Ranboo by the arm and started dragging him away. “Come on, you gotta see this! Sam is so fucking cool, man, and builds all this cool shit with redstone and it’s so poggers, Ran.”

Ranboo cast one last glance at Sam, who shrugged. “Have fun,” he said, and Ranboo was dragged off by a very excitable Tommy Innit.

It was nice to see him with some energy back, Ranboo had to admit. A bit more like the Tommy he remembered before exile. 

“So,” Ranboo started as Tommy led him through the house. “Sam seems nice.”

“He is,” Tommy replied. “Like, genuinely, he is. Nicer than most adults on this server.” He released Ranboo’s arm and pushed a button on the wall. “And, you know, it’s not that I think all the adults on the server are dickheads or anything, just… you know, a lot of them are and Sam isn’t.”

Ranboo felt like Tommy was trying to defend himself. Like he needed an excuse to be close to Sam. “That’s great, Tommy,” he said, because It was. If Tommy felt safe, Ranboo didn’t see how it could be anything but good news.

Tommy smiled at that. “It is great, isn’t it?” He stepped through the opened door, motioning for Ranboo to follow. “And he’s real nice about shit, you know? Like, the, uh- my stealing and shit? He kinda just lets it slide.” There was a moment of quiet while Tommy rummaged around in a chest. “Well, not really. He tells me I shouldn’t, but he’s nice about it. Doesn’t, like, yell at me and shit.”

“You tried stealing from Sam?” Ranboo asked. Not in an accusing sort of way, just curiosity more than anything. Tommy was a known thief, after all. It’s not like it was unusual for him to steal.

“Well, yeah,” Tommy said plainly. “I’ll try stealing from anyone at least once.” Which was a very Tommy-like thing to say. “Though, I reckon I might stop.” Which… wasn’t a very Tommy-like thing to say.

Ranboo crouched next to Tommy, watching him sort through the chest. There wasn’t much in it, some potions, a pickaxe, and a few apples. “Really?” he asked. “You, uh… giving up your life of crime?”

Tommy snorted. “Not hardly, Big Man.” He pulled out an apple and tossed another to Ranboo. “Who am I if not a troublemaker?” Closing the lid of the chest, Tommy stood and started walking to Sam’s crafting table. “But Sam’s been learning me some shit, so… you know. I’m thinking maybe I’ve got other options.” He smiled to himself. “Never really thought I had other options before.”

And Ranboo had to wonder where Sam had been all Tommy’s life. Where had anyone been all Tommy’s life, that he had to believe he didn’t have any other options other than stealing. “Sounds like Sam has been helping you a lot.”

“He has!” Tommy reached under his bandana and pulled out the compass that Ghostbur had given him. “He put this on a chain for me, so it wouldn’t falloff the fucking string I had it on.” He tucked the compass away and bit into the apple. “And he helps with- you know, all my… he calls it trauma, but I think that’s a strong word.”

“I mean, it’s probably the right word,” Ranboo told him. Tommy scoffed and continued to eat his apple, but he didn’t argue. “Anyway, uh… have you been keeping in touch with Tubbo?”

Tommy scratched idly at a redstone stain on the table. “Sure, yeah. When I can. But we’re both very busy, at the moment. Him especially, with the whole ‘trying to kill Technoblade’ ordeal.” He frowned and glanced up at Ranboo uneasily. “I, uh… didn’t know about the Philza thing.” His gaze darted away, seeming to dislike the eye contact as much as Ranboo did. “You think he’s gonna do it?”

Ranboo wanted to say no, he didn’t think Tubbo would do it. Tubbo wouldn’t interrogate Philza just to get at Technoblade. But he knew Tubbo, and so all he could say was, “Yeah. Yeah, I think he might.”

“Fuck,” was Tommy’s incredibly simple response.

It wasn’t until they’d both finished their (hopefully not stolen) apples that Tommy spoke again.

“You reckon I could get Phil out of L’Manburg?” he asked finally.

Which was a completely irrational question and that was a little bit more like the Tommy he knew.. “You want to… try and get Phil out of the country that you’re exiled from?”

Tommy hummed. “Well, when you say it like that,” he tossed his core into a nearby trashcan, “it sounds kinda stupid, eh?”

“Not stupid,” Ranboo said, choosing to walk his core to the trashcan instead of throwing it. “It’s just- well, a little unrealistic.”

“You doubting me, Ranboob?” Tommy asked challengingly. “You doubting my sneaking skills, bitch? I’ll sneak into your house.”

Ranboo didn’t doubt that for one second. “I’m sure you would,” he said lightly, “if you could get into L’Manburg.”

Tommy sighed, “You’re no fucking fun, you know that?” He rested his chin in his hand thoughtfully. “Probably shouldn’t, anyway. Sam says I need to learn how to keep my head on straight, you know? Staying out of fights and shit? Says it’ll make my head stop spinning so much.”

“Sam is smart,” Ranboo noted. “You should listen to him.”

“Yeah,” Tommy muttered to himself. “I should, shouldn’t I.” He seemed to shake himself out of whatever thoughtful trance he was in and grinned. “Anyway! Gotta show you some of these redstone builds. Sam’s been helping Big Q with some project. Las Nevadas, I think. And he knows all this neat stuff about doors and lights and shit.”

Ranboo was content to listen while Tommy rambled. He didn’t seem to actually know much about the redstone build themselves, or how any of them worked, but he was more than happy to show them off. It made Ranboo wonder if Sam planned on teaching Tommy how to build. That’d be a nice hobby, Ranboo thought. A healthier alternative to stealing.

When Sam called them for lunch, Tommy’s smile nearly split his face in two. “Not-potato-soup!” he’d cheered, and Ranboo didn’t know what that meant, but he had a feeling he’d find out.

And if Ranboo saw Tommy glancing at his communicator while they enjoyed their soup, he didn’t mention it. He didn’t type anything into it, didn’t send a single message to anyone, he just stared.

Tommy said that he’d listen to Sam. That he’d stay out of conflict. Ranboo trusted that he would, and maybe that was stupid of him, given his friend’s track record of fighting. But something seemed different this time. Tommy had something he didn’t have before, something that might be enough to keep him out of danger.

Tommy had Sam. Tommy had safety, and Ranboo hoped that it was enough to keep Tommy from looking for trouble.

But sometimes Tommy didn’t need to look for trouble. And that made Ranboo worry more than anything, because sometimes trouble would just find Tommy, and there wasn’t a way to protect Tommy from that.

For now, though, Tommy was safe and… maybe he was even happy.

Ranboo hoped that it stayed that way. He hoped trouble stayed very far away from his friend.

Notes:

May 31st lore streams: *Quackity and Wilbur having a literal custody battle over Tommy*

Me, writing this particular AU with Quackity as an older brother figure: ... well, that's gonna be a fun thing for me to write later.

Chapter 16: Problem-Solving

Notes:

I love writing filler chapters that only establish a little bit of plot. Chapters that only have mild amounts of plot are my favorite. Because then I get to write chapters that are super plot heavy and it's like a lore stream, except I'm writing.

I'm sorry if the ending is a little rushed, I'm just really excited to get the plot going in this thing.

Ranboo was good company, as much as Tommy hated to admit it. He enjoyed the hybrid's presence. Which was stupid, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even known Ranboo for that long.

And, well, Ranboo was his only connection to L’Manburg. Saying he was using Ranboo for information sounded worse than Tommy meant it, because he really did like having Ranboo around. If his presence came with the added bonus of hearing about Tubbo, then who was he to complain?

Of course, he could just ask Tubbo… except he wasn’t sure that Tubbo would tell him the truth.

Not that he didn’t trust Tubbo, because he did. Tubbo was just a stubborn prick, was all, and Tommy couldn’t trust him to be honest when asked if he was okay.

Tubbo also couldn’t be trusted to be honest about… other things.

“Oi, Ranboo,” Tommy said suddenly. He was aware of how sudden it was, not having said much at all while Sam and Ranboo chatted idly over soup, but he didn’t care all that much. “I’ve got a question about Tubbo, if you don’t mind.”

Ranboo put his spoon down, worry furrowing his brow. “What’s up?” Tommy tried not to think too hard about how Ranboo couldn’t touch water, but could eat soup. If he started questioning that, he’d have to question Ranboo’s ability to use potions, and that wasn't a train of thought he wanted to go down right that moment.

Tommy mirrored Ranboo and put down his own spoon. The spoon he’d been eating with, because he could do that now, He could eat small bits of things if he ignored how uncomfortable it felt sitting in his stomach. “I, uh… Dream told me a weird thing, and I’d ask Big T himself, but- but I’m not sure if…” he trailed off, glancing at Sam for some kind of confirmation. Permission, maybe. He just wanted to know that he could speak.

Sam simply gazed back at him. Concern pulling at the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t anger, though, so Tommy continued.

“My compass, yeah? Ghostbur made it for me ages ago, and he said that Tubbo had one?”

Ranboo nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen it a couple of times.”

“Right, yeah. So… Dream says- not that I trust Dream, yeah? But he says Tubbo kinda just, you know, burned it.” Tommy picked at a scab. It was something he’d gotten while mining. No one had done this to him. He’d gotten this all on his own. “Just wanted- he didn’t, though, right? Tubbo didn’t, like, fucking destroy the thing, did he?”

“No!” Ranboo exclaimed. “Tommy, no. Dream said- he told you Tubbo destroyed it?” At Tommy’s nod, Ranboo sighed. “That’s not- that’s not what happened.” He pinched the bridge of his noise. “Jeez- okay, some of Tubbo’s stuff got caught in creeper explosion, and Tubbo freaked out when he realized the compass was in there.”

Tommy’s chest tightened. “So, it- it is destroyed?”

Ranboo shook his head. “No, no. No. A little burned, maybe. The engraving is a bit scuffed, but it still points to Logstedshire and Tubbo still keeps it in his pocket, like, always. I literally don’t think he goes anywhere without it.”

Tubbo still had his compass. Ranboo didn't lie, and Tubbo still had his compass. Which meant…. “Dream lied.” And that wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it still stung, somehow. It ached, like a bruise you kept pressing on even though you knew it was gonna hurt. There was something comforting in the  hurt, because it meant it was real. What Dream did to him was real and he was allowed to be upset if it was real.

Sam’s hand reached out to Tommy, hovering over his arm. “You okay?”

Tommy closed his eyes for a moment, pressing the bruise for another moment before answering. “I’m great, Big Man.” He opened his eyes again to meet Ranboo’s gaze. “Dream is a bigger bitch than I thought.”

Ranboo studied him. Tommy didn’t like how often that happened. Sam did it, Quackity did it, and now Ranboo, with his mismatched gaze, seemed to stare directly into his soul. “What else did Dream tell you?”

What else? “So many things, Ranboo,” Tommy answered. “Uh… and I know- I know some of it is lies, right? Because it has to be. Like the compass, that was a lie.” He tapped his spoon against the table. “He said no one cared, and that was a lie, because you and Sam and Big Q, you guys all care.”

“When did he say that?” Sam asked, his voice edged with a barely concealed anger that Tommy knew wasn’t for him, but he still winced.

“I mean, he said it… kind of a lot?” Tommy admitted. “Especially after-  when he took me to see the Christmas tree, and I…” Tommy blinked, trying to sort out his thoughts. “And, you know, it was my fault for asking anyway. I just wanted- I wanted to go home, but I knew- I knew I fucking couldn’t, so I shouldn’t have even asked.”

Tommy dropped his spoon and started to bring his hand up to his arm, but Sam covered the trembling fingers with his own before he could. “Tommy, relax.”

The breath he took was almost involuntary. It was so easy to listen to Sam. “Right. Anyway, um… like I was saying. I shouldn’t have asked to go- I didn’t want to stay in L’Manburg, right? I just- I knew I wasn’t allowed back, I just wanted to see you guys.” His hand twitched under Sam’s. “And Dream, he- he said that no one wanted me back, anyway.”

“You know that’s not true, right?” Ranboo asked. “I know that Tubbo…” he hesitated. “Tommy, I know you’re having a hard time believing it, and I don’t blame you, but if Tubbo had known what Dream was doing to you, there’s no way-”

“He could’ve,” Tommy interjected, his hand curling into a fist. “All of you could have, actually. Because I fucking invited you.”

Ranboo blinked, looking unfazed by the harsh tone, but surprised. “Invited us? When?

Tommy felt anger build up in his chest. “What do you- the fucking party, man! I made invitations and everything! I gave them to Ghostbur to hand out and Dream said-” Tommy’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. “Dream said…”

Ranboo doesn’t lie.

“You don’t know about the party?” Tommy asked.

“Uh… no, I don’t,” Ranboo said slowly, cautious of the sudden shift in mood.

“So, you- you actually don’t know what I’m talking about.” Tommy mumbled. “And that means, he- Dream lied. Again. How did… Dream said Ghostbur handed out invitations.”

Sam gave his hand a light squeeze. “I think Dream may have stopped Ghostbur from handing out your invitations.”

“That fucker,” Tommy seethed. But something in his heart ached anyway, even though he knew Dream was terrible and awful and Tommy shouldn’t miss him, but it was all just so… confusing. “He told me they didn’t care, and he fucking- he trapped me.” Tommy didn’t like being trapped, and Dream’s words were an awful lot like walls.

Claustrophobia was a funny thing, because Tommy didn’t think you could be claustrophobic from a memory, but it sure did feel like he was suffocating anyway.

A familiar warmth pressed into his side. Fran. It was easier to breathe with Fran. “I hate him.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo said, “I don’t blame you.”

Tommy pulled his hand away from Sam and slumped in his seat. “I’ll kill that bastard, mark my fucking words.”

“Tommy,” Sam said.

“I know,” Tommy heaved an aggravated sigh. “I'm not gonna kill Dream.” His thoughts drifted back to Tubbo. “And, you know, I’ll- I won’t start anything about that Technoblade thing, either. Alright?” Sam looked… almost proud. Tommy didn’t really know what to do with that except run with it. “No violence,” he said, just to see if Sam would do it again.

The approval on Sam’s face solidified his decision. No getting into fights.

But there’d be an awful lot of violence if Tubbo went through the execution. Tommy didn’t need to be part of that, though. Sam wanted him to steer clear of fights, and some bullshit like that definitely counted...

He glanced at his communicator anyway. Maybe he could call Tubbo, just to tell him to call the whole thing off. That wasn’t starting a fight with anyone, right? Then again, Tubbo might not appreciate that so much, because the last time Tommy asked him not to do something, he did it anyway.

Maybe to spite him, he wasn’t sure. Either way, it ended up with Tommy alone with Dream, and Tommy couldn’t let Tubbo make another decision like that, or else more people would get hurt.

He didn’t want more people to get hurt.

“I just don’t want Phil to get hurt, you know?” Tommy muttered aloud. And if he couldn’t call Tubbo, maybe he could call Phil? A brilliant plan, except that he hadn’t actually talked to Phil since November 16th, and there was a reason for that.

What do you say to the man who killed your brother?

“I could talk to Philza, if you want,” Ranboo said. “If you don’t want to get involved with the… if you’re trying to avoid getting into more trouble.”

Another glance at his communicator. That… was a better plan. Stay out of it. Let Ranboo, a citizen of L’Manburg, deal with business inside the country. It wasn’t Tommy’s place to care anymore. Bit Q was the vice-president now, not him. He didn’t care what happened.

“Sure,” he tore his gaze away from the communicator, “if you want to talk to Phil, I literally can’t fucking stop you.”

Ranboo nodded once and went back to his soup. “Well, like you said: Phil’s a good guy.”

Sam stood, taking his bowl back to the kitchen. “I’d be careful if I were you,” he advised. “L’Manburg might consider that treason.”

Tommy hummed in agreement. “Wouldn’t want you getting in trouble or anything.” He’d already taken the heat off Ranboo once, and he wasn’t sure if he could do it again.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Ranboo reasoned. “They can’t be mad at me for just… talking with the guy, right?”

“Right,” Tommy said. But he wasn’t sure if he believed it. Theoretically, Tubbo shouldn’t be mad at Ranboo for talking to Philza.

But, theoretically, Tubbo wasn’t going to exile him, either.

So, maybe (theoretically), he just wasn’t sure how well he knew Tubbo anymore.

His gaze drifted back to his communicator, but he tore it away again. Don’t, he scolded himself, Sam says stay out of it. And the last thing he wanted was to disappoint Sam. Not when Sam had helped him so much. If he did anything to piss off Sam now, he’d end up alone again.

Tommy wouldn’t do anything stupid…

Or maybe he’d just wait for Ranboo to leave before he did anything stupid?

Good enough.

Because there was one other person he could think of that might be able to do something--would be willing to do something. One person that might be able to get Phil out of L’Manburg, Tommy wouldn’t even have to talk to Phil for it to happen, and it wouldn't endanger Ranboo’s reputation at all.

More importantly, it wasn’t starting a fight.

There might be people who would start fights after, but that wasn’t really Tommy’s problem anymore. He could only do so much from the outside looking in. Tommy could think this through, make sure Phil didn’t get the same unfair treatment he got, but anything that happened after…

Not Tommy’s problem.

It felt a little selfish to be happy about that. Happy that, for once, it just wasn’t his problem. He didn’t have to sacrifice anything for this. Not that he had anything left to sacrifice, anyway.

… maybe he had one thing left to sacrifice.

Sam seemed to want Tommy to stick around, though. So, he wasn’t giving up that third canon life just yet.

No fights, Sam said, and Tommy would listen.

“Anyway,” Ranboo said. “I think I better head out soon. I’ll be back to visit, for sure, but there’s some stuff I need to get done at home.”

“Come by whenever,” Sam assured him. “Just make sure to shoot a message our way first, so we know you’re coming.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Actually, out of curiosity, would you mind if I walked as far as the Nether with you? There’s some mining I need to get done.”

Tommy tried (and failed) to keep the panic out of his voice when he asked, “You’re leaving?”

Sam nodded to Fran, lazily sprawled across the kitchen floor. “I’ll be leaving Fran with you, don’t worry. I just know that you aren’t a big fan of the Nether, so I thought I’d go mine by myself this time.”

Part of Tommy wanted to protest. He didn’t want Sam to go anywhere, because if Sam left there would be an irrational art of Tommy that feared the hybrid wouldn’t come back. But an idea tugged at the back of his mind, and he held his tongue, shoving his anxieties aside.

Because Tommy hadn’t considered sneaking out, not even as a joke… until right that moment.

He knew he wouldn’t have much time when the front door closed behind Ranboo and Sam, both promising to return--Sam in just a few hours and Ranboo in a day or two. So, he moved fast, ignoring how Fran watched him gather various things around the house.

“I’ll be back soon,” Tommy mumbled, grabbing a spare cloak from one of Sam’s chests. “He won’t even know I’m gone. It’ll be fine” He snatched an invisibility potion and slipped it into his inventory, just in case. Sam doesn’t like it when I steal, he reminded himself. “It’ll be fine,” he told himself out loud.

Sam wouldn’t mind, anyway. Probably wouldn’t even notice. It was fine.

Just to make sure Sam and Ranboo had really gone, Tommy waited ten minutes before pushing the button to open the door. Fran barked, and Tommy winced, knowing she was hoping to go outside with him. In all honesty, Tommy was tempted to bring her.

But if something happened to Fran out there, he’d never forgive himself. Worse, Sam would never forgive him, which would be infinitely worse.

Tommy stepped outside, gently nudging Fran to stay in the house. “Stay,” he commanded quietly. “I’ll be back.” He shut the door, watching Fran disappear behind it.

Guilt tugged at his stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He had a mission, and he really did want to be back before Sam finished mining. He didn’t think Sam would be mad, not really, but it wasn’t a risk he wanted to make.

He felt like he was forgetting something. It was probably nothing, so he brushed it off, tugging the borrowed cloak around his shoulders. The area Sam lived in wasn’t inherently cold, but the snow biome was a whole other story.

And, unfortunately, the only person Tommy could think of that would help Phil lived in the snow biome.

Tommy hoped Technoblade was home. If he walked through the fucking snow for nothing, he was gonna be so pissed off.

Notes:

I love writing in the notes. Only a small percentage of my readers actually read my notes, so I can just put whatever here and it's fine. I can say, "I've already written out the confrontation with Jack after Tommy gets out of prison." and only, like, five people are going to see that. I can say, "Technoblade POV next chapter, lmao." and that's very pogchamp of me.

Chapter 17: Uninvited Guest

Notes:

In which Technoblade does not care.

Really, he doesn't.

He actually just does not give one single fuck.

Definitely doesn't care.

Anyone who says he does is a liar.

Technoblade liked to farm. It wasn’t something he ever saw himself doing, not with his incredibly long history of war and violence, but it was nice. He could expect the same thing from it every day and there were no surprises.

Potatoes grew, and Technoblade pulled them from the ground. He fed his turtles and checked the eggs. It was a simple life, a peaceful one, and it was his.

There weren’t even any visitors, except for Phil, of course. Even then, Phil would send him a message before arriving. It was never a surprise when Phil visited. Nothing was a shock to Technoblade. Ever. He did his farm work, came home to his boat-bound enderman, Edward, and read his tales of Greek mythology,

The routine of it was comforting. Nothing ever changed.

So when he opened the door to his home, he absolutely should not have seen an uninvited guest sorting through one of his chests. It could have been five seconds or five minutes that he stared, but eventually the intruder seemed to notice Technoblade in the doorway.

“Blade!” Tommy Innit exclaimed, closing the chest he’d been sifting through. “How do?”

Chat, who had been extraordinarily tame since his retirement, roared in response to Tommy. Some voices seemed offended at Tommy’s presence, others were endeared by it, but they, on the whole, just seemed confused.

Concerned, even.

Technoblade did not approve of that particular batch of voices. He was not concerned about Tommy Innit. He had no reason to be. “What are you doing in my house, Tommy?”

Tommy shrugged off the question, sweeping aside the brown cloak he was wearing so that he could stand. “How do?” he repeated.

“What are you doing in my house, Tommy?” He couldn’t even say that he was surprised to see Tommy. Irritated, maybe, but not surprised. Somehow, Technoblade didn’t think anything Tommy might do would surprise him.

“Dickhead,” Tommy huffed. “I’m not here for a fight.” He glanced at the chest, and then back to Technoblade. “And I’m not stealing shit, either. Just looking.” At Technoblade’s glare, Tommy added, “You’ve got lots of neat stuff.”

Raccoon Innit, the voices chanted, I bet he stole something, THIEF, he’s lying, ohhhhhh he stealing!, who’s cloak is that?, dirty crime boy

Technoblade narrowed his eyes. “Really. You. Not here for a fight and not here to steal from me.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “You know, there are other things that I do.”

“Like what?” Technoblade asked. Tommy scowled at him. “Exactly. What’d you take?”

“Nothing!” Tommy protested. “I actually didn’t take anything, you fucking-” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Look, there’s someone who would be… kind of upset, if I was stealing again.” Probably whoever that cloak belonged to, Technoblade noted, because it was certainly too big to be Tommy’s. “So, I’m trying to not do that anymore.”

Technoblade snorted. “Everyone gets upset when you steal. People being angry with you has never stopped you from doing anything.”

“This is different,” Tommy said. “He cares and shit. He’s not like… you know.” And, truthfully, Technoblade knew that the redacted name could be any number of people that hurt Tommy. Wilbur, Dream… even Tubbo, though Technoblade knew Tommy would never understand that.

Technoblade used to be able to list the people who cared about the loud-mouthed teen. He could count them on one hand, but he could count them, nonetheless. Now he wasn’t sure if he could lift a single finger to list a name.

“Okay,” Technoblade said finally. “Let’s assume you’re not trying to steal from me. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to stay in Logstedshire.”

Tommy crossed his arms. “Well, I escaped Logstedshire, because I am just that fucking cool,” he said loftily. “And since you’re being a bitch, I’m not even sure want to tell you why I’m here anymore, so fuck you.”

This was getting him nowhere. “Tommy,” he said firmly. “Tell me what you’re doing in my house, or I will kill you right now.” It was an empty threat, of course. Technoblade took his retirement very seriously. He wasn’t a perfect person, but he was trying not to be a violent one, at the very least.

He was glad his gaze was already trained on Tommy, otherwise he might have missed the way the teenager took a half step back. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Tommy looked scared. Like Technoblade had actually made Tommy nervous.

And that… wasn’t supposed to happen.

scared innit, SADGE, Dream’s fault, sad boi is sad, look what Dream did to him

Technoblade had never known Tommy to back down from or be intimidated by anything. Nothing could faze the kid. Not war, not a fight to the death, not even actually dying seemed to take the toll it should have.

But an empty threat made him flinch.

Something happened. Chat seemed to blame Dream, and Technoblade was inclined to agree, since that was the last person he’d seen Tommy with.

Well… Dream and-

“Hi, Technoblade!”

Ghostbur, the Chat cheered.

Technoblade had almost forgotten the ghost was hanging around. He’d be lying if he said didn’t enjoy the company in Phil’s absence, because he did, surprisingly enough. The shell of Wilbur Soot was far better at conversation than the original, if a little distracted at times. At least he wasn’t obsessed with building a government.

“Ghostbur?” Tommy questioned. “What are- when did…” Something like anger flashed across Tommy’s eyes, which was a bit more like the Tommy that Technoblade knew. “Where the fuck were you?”

Ghostbur’s gaze snapped to Tommy, gasping in surprise. “Tommy!” he exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” He drifted closer to the teenager. Not actually floating, Ghostbur just had a way of walking that made him look weightless. Probably because he was. “I’m sorry I missed your party.”

Tommy stiffened at the statement. “It’s… Ghostbur, the party didn’t happen.” Technoblade didn’t know what party they were talking about, but it seemed important. To Tommy, anyway. “Nobody got their invitations. What happened to them?” He asked like he already knew the answer.

“Oh! Dream took them,” Ghostbur answered happily. “I was just about to hand out the invitations, but Dream found me and told me that he’d take care of everything.” The ghost hummed and fiddled with a small bit of blue dye. “Then he told me to take a walk! I got a little lost, though, which is why I missed your party-”

“There wasn’t a fucking party, Ghostbur,” Tommy said firmly. “Dream lied. He didn’t hand out the invitations.”

Ghostbur tilted his head “Why would Dream do that? He shouldn’t lie, he’s your friend.”

Seeing Tommy’s expression shift between emotions felt almost invasive. Tommy wore every emotion on his stitched-together sleeve, and Technoblade… didn’t. Any display of emotion was uncomfortable at best and intolerable at worst, and Tommy was just a teenager-shaped bundle of feeling.

And Technoblade didn’t have a way to describe how he felt seeing Tommy’s full spectrum of emotions on display--the anger, confusion, guilt, and then anger again--but it was painfully awkward.

“So,” Technoblade interjected, wanting Tommy to stop staring at the wall with a vacant expression. “What did you come here for, again?”

Tommy took a deep breath. “Ghostbur, we’re talking about this later.”

“Okay!” Ghostbur said agreeably.

“Great.” Tommy turned to Technoblade. “L’Manburg wants to put you on trial, Blade.”

Technoblade raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Yeah, really.” Tommy cleared his throat. “And, uh… they want to kill you, actually, is what Big Q said. I think the trial is more of a courtesy thing? Like, they’re doing it just so that you can’t say they did anything wrong and… retaliate.”

The fact that L’Manburg was corrupt wasn't exactly news to Technoblade. He’d say he was surprised at the underhanded scheme, but he wasn’t. This wasn’t even the first time this very thing had happened. “So, exactly what they did to you.”

Tommy blinked. “What? No. Fucking…” He frowned, thinking the statement over, then repeated, “No! What the fuck- that’s not even what happened.”

Technoblade shrugged. “I mean, it’s pretty much exactly what happened. Dream wanted you out of L’Manburg, but needed to do it in a way that made him seem in the right. People steal and destroy each other’s houses all the time, Tommy, and you don’t think it’s weird that you were the only one who ever got put on trial for it?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy hissed, but his voice wavered. Almost like he was actually hearing what Technoblade was saying. Took Tommy long enough, Technoblade thought. This was only the thousandth time he had tried to explain it.

“I mean, Dream pushed for the trial,” he continued. “But Tubbo didn’t have to listen. He didn’t have to exile you.” He’d warned Tommy about this. He had warned Tommy in the Pit and on November 16th and god knows how many other times.

Violence was the only universal language, nobody was truly free under a government, the heroes never win in a way that matters. And Tommy was fitting into his hero role almost too well.

Theseus, Chat mocked, push him off a cliff, what a brave hero, yo that cliff thing hits different after Logstedshire, THESEUS INNIT, Logstedshire, has Techno canonically seen Logstedshire?, he doesn’t know, just like Theseus

Technoblade made a mental note to visit Logstedshire. No particular reason, he told himself, he was just curious. Besides, he doubted Chat would shut up about it unless he did.

“Don’t fucking talk about Tubbo,” Tommy bit out, his fists clenched at his sides, clearly fighting to keep his composure. “Dream was threatening L’Manburg. The fucking- the walls and shit. I can’t- it’s not fair to…”

Technoblade really had to question Tommy’s loyalty to Tubbo. He just didn’t understand it. Why be loyal to someone who’s hurt you so much? “You would have fought for him,” he said simply. And it was the truth. Tommy had done it before, and Technoblade had no doubt that he would do it again. “If it were Tubbo on trial, you would have fought Dream.”

“I- well, yeah,” Tommy admitted. “But Tubbo- he wouldn’t have burned down a house, but I probably would. I mean, I did.” He set his jaw. “It’s different.”

Technoblade leaned against the wall, watching Ghostbur wander aimlessly. The ghost was probably tuning out the conversation. He did that when he was uncomfortable. “Why is it different?” Technoblade asked, because he was genuinely curious.

“Because it is,” Tommy said firmly. “He had to. And I'm not… I'm not supposed to be angry about it."

“Whatever you say, Theseus.”

Tommy whirled on him, his gray eyes finally ignited with a familiar sort of rage. “Don’t fucking call me that!”

AngerInnit! Chat helpfully provided. Theseus!

Ghostbur jolted at Tommy's raised voice. "Is everything okay?" he asked worriedly. "Tommy, you sound upset."

"It's nothing," Tommy's tone softened to address the ghost. "Sorry, Ghostbur. I didn't mean to shout." He took a breath and redirected his attention to Technoblade. "I came here to tell you that they'll interrogate Phil to find you."

PHILZA, Dadza?, Blood for the Blood God, interrogate?, bitch i hope the fuck you do!, Save Phil!

"I think Ranboo said it's gonna be in the next couple of days," Tommy continued. "So if you want Phil out of L'Manburg, now would be a great fucking time to do it."

"Is Phil coming over?" Ghostbur asked hopefully. "Maybe he could meet Friend!"

Technoblade turned to Ghostbur, ignoring the surge of voices insisting that he rescue Phil. "Friend?"

Ghostbur pointed outside. "My sheep!"

Tommy and Technoblade glanced at each other before going to the window. Technoblade raised an eyebrow at the blue sheep nosing curiously around Carl's pen. "Huh."

"Oh, that's so cool!" Tommy raced out the door, Ghostbur trailing behind him. Technoblade followed because… just because. "He's blue! Where the fuck did you find him?" The sheep seemed pleased at having Tommy’s attention, allowing the teenager to pet him wonderingly.

Ghostbur hummed. "In the woods, while I was lost." He frowned. "It rained a little, which wasn't very fun for either of us," he brightened again, "but then I found Technoblade!"

The teenager didn’t look up, too occupied with petting Friend to bother, but the clipped, “That sure is nice for a fucking anarchist.” was very clearly directed at Technoblade.

“I’m not an anarchist anymore,” Technoblade informed Tommy. “I retired after L’Manburg.”

But for Phil…

“But for Phil,” Technoblade echoed his Chat, “I think I might have to come out of retirement again.” Tommy did look up at him at that. “Relax, Tommy. As long as they don’t hurt Phil, I couldn’t care less about L’Manburg. I’m not tearing down L’Manburg. Yet.”

“Well, I do care about L’Manburg,” Tommy argued. “I’d like it to not be fucking destroyed again, so if that confirmation could be just a little more concrete, Big Man, I’d really appreciate it. Because I don’t like how you added a ‘yet’ to the end of that.”

Technoblade rolled his eyes. “That’s about as concrete as it’s gonna get. L’Manburg just better not hurt Phil, and that’s all I’m saying.”

“Who’s gonna hurt Phil?” Ghostbur asked in alarm.

Tommy glowered at Technoblade. “No one,” he said. “No one is hurting anyone.” He gave Friend another quick pat on the head and sighed. “This was so much easier when I could just fight people. Fuck this, and fuck Sam for making me all soft and shit, and trying talk things out, or whatever bullshit-”

“Who’s Sam?” Ghostbur asked.

And if Tommy wasn’t already so pale, Technoblade would say that the blood drained out of his face. “No one,” he said quickly. “Nothing. What? Who the fuck is Sam? I don’t know a Sam.”

“Didn’t he visit you in Pogtopia once?” Technoblade asked. He really only knew the name, but not a face. Sam was a perfect stranger, as far as Technoblade was concerned, and he definitely did not care if Tommy was associated with him. He didn’t care who Tommy associated with at all. “You said you left Logstedshire, right? Is Sam the guy you’re staying with now?”

“No,” Tommy said.

Yes, Chat corrected, Sam helped him, Sam is safe, neutral party, don’t tell Dream, DON’T TELL DREAM, Don’t tell Dream, Sam is safe, let him be safe, don’t tell anyone, don’t tell Dream, don’t tell him

“Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?” Tommy demanded.

Technoblade disregarded the harsh tone. “You’re a terrible liar.” Fear crept into Tommy’s eyes, but he kept his glare surprisingly steady. “You think I care where you’re staying, Tommy? L’Manburg, Logstedshire, whoever Sam is, I don’t care. Just as long as Sam isn’t forcing you to help build another government, I really could not care less.”

“Whatever,” Tommy muttered.

Ghostbur, all smiles as usual, butted into the conversation with, “Technoblade, could we go get Phil now? I’d very much like to see him.” He clapped his hands together. “Tommy! You could come, too. I bet Phil would love to see you.”

yooooo, 4/4 SBI, pogchamp, Sleepy Bois!

“Well, I don’t want to see Phil,” Tommy said. “If I wanted to talk to him, I would have just called him on my communicator.” He abandoned his sheep-petting to pat the cloak. He frowned and patted again. “My communicator… that I do own. And is not on me, currently.”

“You left your communicator,” Technoblade deadpanned.

Tommy turned red. “I’m not used to having one, Blade. Fucking- sue me for forgetting, alright? Fuck off.”

Technoblade wondered why Tommy was used to not having a communicator. He wondered for two seconds, and then realized asking would lead to Tommy rambling, which was an annoyance he refused to instigate. Besides, he had a more pressing question. “Why wouldn’t you want to talk to Phil?”

“I wouldn’t know what to say,” Tommy answered.

“L’Manburg plans to interrogate you and find Technoblade to put him on trial,” Technoblade said. “There. Easy.”

Tommy glanced away. “It is not that fucking easy.”

“Yes, it is,” Technoblade told him. “I don’t even like most people, and I still find it easy to talk to Phil.”

“You’re his friend, though,” Tommy pointed. “I’m just some kid that he doesn’t even know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “And, you know, he… killed Wilbur and all.”

Sadinnit, Chat whispered.

Tommy pulled the cloak on his shoulders tighter around him. “I mean, I fucking watched him do it, Techno.” He glanced up. “What do you say to the guy who killed your brother?”

Oh.

Well, Technoblade didn’t have a response for that.

“If it makes you feel better, Tommy,” Ghostbur chimed in quietly. “Alivebur did ask Phil to do it.”

Tommy sighed. “No, Ghostbur, that doesn’t make me feel better.” He tilted his head back for a moment, maybe in thought, before speaking again. “I’m going back to Sam.”

“Okay.” Technoblade wasn’t going to stop him. Honestly, he’d prefer Tommy not stay longer than strictly necessary, anyway.

The teenager was already starting to walk away. “Good luck with Phil,” he called over his shoulder. “Be grateful that I didn’t take any of your shit.”

“I’m still not entirely sure you’re telling the truth about that,” Technoblade replied.

Tommy turned so that he was walking backward and still talking at Technoblade. “Fuck you,” he shouted over the cold wind. “Just for that, I’m coming back and stealing so much of your stuff!”

Ghostbur tilted his head. “Tommy’s gonna come back?”

Technoblade huffed. “I doubt I could stop him if I tried.” Tommy was still hollering, the words muffled by distance. “Doesn’t matter right now, though. I need to focus on getting Phil out of L’Manburg.”

“Could we stop by Logstedshire on the way?” Ghostbur asked. Technoblade would like it to be known that he did not say Ghostbur could tag along, and the spirit had decided that all by himself. “I want to check on the house I built.”

yes, go see Logstedshire, go see, no save Phil first!, see what Dream did, Blood for the Blood God, go see Logstedshire, go right now, TNT, go to Logstedshire

“Sure,” Technoblade agreed. “We can stop by Logstedshire.” Tommy was a mere speck in the distance now, and if he was still yelling, Technoblade couldn’t hear it. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

Ghostbur grinned. “Great! I can’t wait to see Phil again.”

Neither could Technoblade, really. It had taken every ounce of willpower not to go get Phil right that second, but he managed. He needed to think. Plan for anything. Gather some materials.

… and make sure Tommy didn’t steal anything. Because he would kill the teenager if he found out something was missing.

no you wouldn’t, his chat sang.

Technoblade didn’t like that they might be right.

Notes:

I only have, like, a vague idea of where this is going in my brain. There's no outline or anything. Just bits and pieces of plot that I string together with this kind of bullshit right here.

It'll be fun when I actually do have a plot heavy chapter, though. It'll be like a lore stream, except I'm writing.

Also, writing Tommy and his kind of, sort of, almost, semi-healing arc is so much fun. He's an angry boi, but, like... he's trying, okay?

Chapter 18: Quiet

Notes:

Me, only having up to the prison arc fully planned: I hope something happens in the lore soon so i can plan ahead.

The recent lore streams:

Me: Yeah, okay, cool. That'll be fun.

“I’m worried about him.” Sam admitted. Ranboo had already started for L’Manburg, leaving Sam alone to mine in the Nether. Thankfully, he was having more luck than he had during his outing with Tommy, finding some ancient debris almost immediately.

He’d spent the next couple of hours mining just for the sake of materials. It gave him the time he needed to think, and make a very important phone call. He’d waited until he was done mining to make the call, though, opting to contact Puffy on his way home so that his walk wasn’t so quiet.

“I know you’re worried,” Puffy replied, “but it’s not unusual for someone to… have their moments. Especially when they’ve been through what Tommy’s been through.”

Sam hummed, putting the ancient debris he’d found into his inventory. “This felt different, though. You didn’t see the way he looked on that bridge, Puffy, it was… it genuinely scared me.” Someone as lively as Tommy shouldn’t ever look that numb or defeated. “And after what Q told me about the tower-”

“What tower?” Puffy asked. “Sam, you never mentioned anything about a tower.”

“I don’t really know much about it,” Sam admitted. “I haven’t seen Logstedshire, but I know it’s destroyed.”

“You told me about that.”

“Right,” Sam continued, “but Quackity told me that there was one thing left standing, and it was just… it’s just a cobblestone tower.” He took a moment to put his mining tools away. “They, uh… L’Manburg actually thought Tommy was dead. For a while.”

Puffy was quiet for a moment. “Because of the tower?”

Sam hesitated, “I mean, yeah, because- well, Tubbo thought…” That wasn’t a sentence he wanted to finish, so he didn’t. He didn’t like to think that Tommy might have done it. The fact that Tommy had even considered it was nauseating, but Sam couldn’t bring himself to face that head-on just yet.

But Puffy seemed to have no problem addressing it. “Sam, do you think Tommy is suicidal?”

There it was. The word no one was saying. And of course no one was saying it, that would make everything too real. It would make Tommy’s pain too real. It would make everything Tommy went through far too real. It shouldn’t be real, because Tommy was a child who didn’t deserve to feel that death had more to offer him than life…

It was real, though. Sam was going to have to deal with it. “Yeah, Puffy, I think he might be.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Sam blinked. “You said you’d be here at the end of the week.”

“That was before I knew Tommy was potentially suicidal,” Puffy said curtly. “I would have been there days ago if I had known, Sam, collecting totems can wait. Foolish will understand.”

“If you’re sure,” Sam said reluctantly. “I'll tell Tommy when I get home. I should be there soon.” He hadn't necessarily been in a hurry before, but he certainly was now. Because now he had the words ' potentially suicidal' floating around in his head, and he’d left Tommy. Alone.

With Fran, technically, but still.

“You’d better be there soon,” Puffy scolded. “I can’t believe you- why did you leave him alone? If he’s really… Sam, you can’t leave him.”

Sam took a breath. “Yeah, I’m starting to realize that.” He huffed out a laugh. “Remember when this was just… god, this used to be just, ‘Tommy had a panic attack, what do I do?’. Now it’s- it’s this, and I’m still not good at this.”

“No one is good at this, Sam,” Puffy told him. “At least, no one’s good at this right off the bat. Helping a recovering trauma victim isn’t easy. There’s a learning curve, for you and him. You have to learn how to help, and that takes time, but he has to learn how to accept the help, which could take longer.”

Not too long, Sam hoped. Tommy didn’t deserve to feel this miserable. But Tommy was stubborn, and Sam knew he valued any small amount of independence he could get.

“Anyway, I have to go,” Puffy said. “I’ll tell Foolish that I’ve paused my search, and head your way. We’ll talk more tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright,” Sam agreed. “See you tomorrow.”

Sam wished he had brought Fran, if only to have something to fill the silence while he walked. Now that he had Tommy to fill any quiet void with idle chatter and laughter, he found himself hating silence more and more. It made the sight of his base all the more welcoming, because he knew Tommy would be there, safe and sound and probably armed with a snide remark or two.

The door lowered, and Sam could just barely make out Fran’s barking over the sound. She hopped over the last few feet of door before it could finish lowering, bounding at Sam with an urgency he didn’t have a name for. “What’s up, Fran?”

She circled him for a moment, sniffing at his clothes and whimpering when she didn’t find what she was looking for.

“Okay, come on,” Sam said as he gently nudged her back inside. “Tommy! I’m back.” He started pulling things from his inventory to put in chests for safekeeping. “I found some ancient debris for-” Another bark interrupted him. “What?”

Then he noticed it.

Silence.

“Tommy?” Sam glanced around. The base was… shockingly quiet. Nothing but empty space, and Sam was having a hard time comprehending the severe lack of presence in the room. “Tommy!” he tried again, with no results. “No. Where did…” Part of him wanted to check Tommy’s room, but something told him that Fran wouldn’t be so frantic if the teenager was still in the house.

He wondered if Logstedshire had been this quiet on the days Tommy didn’t have Dream.

The communicator was in his hand before he could think twice about it. He went to the voice chat option for the second time that day and called Tommy, hoping to locate his missing… friend? Roommate? Was there even a word for what Tommy was? Stowaway? Refugee?

The sound of a communicator ringing jolted Sam from his thoughts. Confusion flooded him for a moment before he realized the sound was coming from the next room over.

Tommy had left his communicator on the table.

Sam shoved his own communicator back in his pocket and started pacing. Fran attempted to lean against his leg, but Sam was too panicked to acknowledge her help.

Where could Tommy have gone? He didn’t go through the Nether, Sam would have seen him. He wouldn’t have gone to Logstedshire. Couldn’t have gone to L’Manburg. And wherever Tommy was, he was alone, and the last time Tommy had been alone…

It was too quiet in the house.

Sam wondered if it was this quiet at the top of a cobblestone tower. It made him feel sick to wonder.

Potentially suicidal, Puffy’s words overtook his thoughts, but Tommy wouldn’t… he wouldn’t actually-

The door opened.

It took a moment for Sam to register the sound, but the door to the base was opening again, and Fran was already racing to greet whoever was at the door. “Oi! Fran, what the fuck- get off me, I wasn’t gone that long.”

Sam grabbed Tommy’s communicator off the table and started towards the voice. He pushed up his goggles and tried to school his expression into something more neutral than the panic he’d been felling just moments before. On reflex, he wanted to be angry, but he knew it was unfounded and Tommy hadn’t meant to make him panic. It was just old instincts trying to get the better of him and he wasn’t going to let them.

Tommy was crouched down to pet Fran, the door already closing behind him. “Hey, bitch,” he muttered affectionately as he scratched behind her ears. “Miss me that much, huh? Only gone for a few-” His voice died, eyes widened slightly. He didn’t look up at Sam, but his presence had certainly been acknowledged.

After a moment of silence, Sam held up Tommy’s communicator. “You left this.”

“I noticed,” Tommy said. He stood, but still pointedly avoided Sam’s gaze. “I’m, uh… not used to having one. I didn’t think about it.”

That made sense, Sam decided, but he still had several questions. “Where did you go?”

Tommy shifted, looking uncomfortable. “I was just- I was… out. With a- with a friend?” His gaze hardened, looking defensive. “Look, I didn’t… I just lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time?” Sam repeated. “Tommy, I’ve been gone for almost three hours, have you been running around out there the whole time I was gone?”

“Not- no! Not the whole time, just…” Tommy clutched the edge of the cloak he was wearing. It clearly wasn’t his, because Tommy didn’t own much more than the clothes on his back, his compass around his neck, and the few supplies he had stowed away in the workshop. “It’s not even that big of a deal, Sam, so get off my back.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Did you go somewhere cold?” he asked, nodding to the cloak.

Tommy immediately whipped the cloak off of himself and held it out. “I wasn’t stealing it,” he said quickly, his eyes trained on the ground. “I just- I borrowed it. You can have it back.”

“Do you even own anything warm to wear?” Sam asked. Tommy shook his head slowly. “Go ahead and keep that one, then.” He was met with silence. Sam wasn’t sure how to interpret it, but he decided to stay quiet until Tommy made a decision.

Eventually Tommy pulled the cloak closer to himself, and it vanished into his inventory. “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” Sam answered honestly. “I was worried when I came back and you weren’t here, but I’m not angry.” He held out Tommy’s communicator. “Next time you want to go somewhere, just let me know. You’re not, like, trapped here or anything, but I’d like to keep tabs on you.”

“Why?” Tommy asked suspiciously, his hand drifting to rest on Fran’s head. “To fucking- to watch me?”

Sam studied Tommy for a moment. “No,” he said finally. “You’re not here so I can watch you, Tommy. I just like to know that you’re safe.”

“Oh.” Tommy took a cautious step forward to take his communicator back. “Uh… thanks. I mean, sorry? I guess? I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t trying to fucking worry you or anything, I just- I went to visit Technoblade.” He paused. “For no reason,” he added awkwardly.

L’Manburg was probably the reason, Sam concluded, but he decided to leave it be. “How did that go?”

“Fine,” Tommy replied. “The Blade and I are like pals, you know.” He stood a little straighter, like he had something to prove. “Besides, he wouldn’t even think of trying anything, you know? I’m the biggest man on the server, Sammy-Boy, he’s got nothing on me.”

Sam hummed, moving to start putting things in his chests again. “Do you think you’ll go visit him again?”

Tommy made an unsure noise. “Maybe. I think Phil is gonna be over there now, though. So I might, you know… not.”

“That’s understandable.” Sam opened a chest and frowned at the contents. There was a potion missing. “Hey, Tommy? Did you take anything other than the cloak?”

“No,” Tommy answered immediately.

The lie was so obvious, it was nearly painful, but Sam knew Tommy would double down on the lie if Sam accused him of anything. “Are you sure? I already told you, I’m not angry.”

“So what if I did, bitch?” Tommy retorted. When Sam didn’t answer, Tommy cleared his throat. “I may have- like, just in case… I took an invisibility potion, but-”

“Tommy,” Sam interjected, turning to give the teenager a reassuring glance. “I’m not angry. I just want to know why.”

Tommy crossed his arms and glanced away. “Well, I took a fucking invisibilty potion, Sam. Figure it out.”

Sam closed the chest and stood. “I think we’ve talked about this, though. About you taking things?”

“So, you are angry.”

“No.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Can you tell me why you took it?”

Tommy hesitated. “Just- because I didn’t… I didn’t think I’d see Dream, but just in case I did, I wouldn’t- I don’t think he’d want to see me, you know?”

And Sam could understand that. “Okay. So you wanted it for a perfectly valid reason, but you still shouldn’t have stolen it.”

“Okay,” Tommy said slowly. “But are you mad?”

“If you had taken it just to be annoying, I would probably be more irritated,” Sam admitted. “But, like I said, you had a perfectly valid reason to want an invisibility potion. You just should have asked first.”

Tommy nodded. “Right.” He picked at nonexistent bandages on his arms. “So, I’m- I’m not in trouble, then.”

Sam shook his head. “Just let me know when you leave next time, and don’t take things without asking.”

“Even when I need them?”

“Especially when you need them,” Sam corrected. “Because if you need something, I want to be sure that you’re really prepared for whatever it is you’re doing.”

Fran leaned against Tommy’s leg, but Tommy didn’t move to pet her. “Why do you care this much?”

Sam tilted his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s not a hard fucking question, Sam.” Tommy swallowed hard and asked again, “Why do you care this much?” He scowled. “No one cares this much. You should- you should be angry I left. You should be so fucking pissed off at me right now, and you’re not. Why?”

This again. Sam felt like he had explained this same thing in about ten different ways. He found that he didn’t care, though. He’d say it as many times as he needed to until Tommy believed him. “I’m not going to be mad at you for making the same mistakes every teenager makes. Do you know how much dumb shit Quackity was doing when he was your age?”

Tommy almost smiled. “He’s still doing dumb shit.”

Sam chuckled. “You’re not entirely wrong there.” He composed himself and continued, “Anyway, you were absolutely right to take an invisibility potion with Dream looking for you.” Tommy cringed at that. “The only thing you did wrong was take it without permission and not tell me where you were going.”

“I still don’t fucking get it,” Tommy informed him. “Anyone else would be mad. Wilbur would- he might have actually killed me, yeah? If I had ever left Pogtopia like that.” Sam didn’t want to know if Tommy was kidding or not. “And I know Dream is so pissed that I left Logstedshire.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not Wilbur or Dream, then.”

Tommy stared at him blankly. “I don’t understand you.”

Sam shrugged. “That’s fine.”

“No, seriously. You’re fucking weird,” Tommy insisted, but his tone didn’t sound nearly harsh enough for it to be insulting.

“You’re weirder,” Sam said before turning on his heel and walking away.

“What- am not!” Tommy followed after him. “Take that back, I am literally the coolest person to ever exist.” Fran barked. “See? Fran agrees with me.”

Sam walked to the workshop, hoping to get started on Tommy’s armor. Maybe he’d even teach Tommy how to do it himself. “I still think you’re pretty weird.”

Tommy spluttered, playfully offended by the statement. “You wound me, Sam. Truly, you do, I am so wounded.”

“Why don’t you steal a healing potion?” Sam opened the door to the workshop. “Maybe that’ll help.”

“Maybe I will!” Tommy huffed as he crossed the threshold into the workshop. “I’ve already told Technoblade that I’ll steal all his shit. I’ll steal yours, too. Don’t test me, Big Man, or I’ll just start thieving and shit.”

Sam fought the urge to ruffle Tommy's hair. “Sure, Tommy. Whatever you say.” He gestured for Tommy to follow him to the crafting table. “By the way, Puffy says she’s coming early. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

Tommy brightened. “Wait, really? Pog!” He scooted closer to see the materials Sam was laying out. “I don’t think we’ve actually officially met. Not, like, properly. Why is she coming early?”

The answer was… more complicated than Sam would like to admit. What was he supposed to say, “ You’re on suicide watch.”? Or maybe, “Puffy can handle your trauma better than I can.”?

“Because she cares,” Sam finally settled on, “and she wants to see you.” Tommy didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so Sam didn’t wait for him to. “Have you ever made armor before, Tommy?”

“Few times,” Tommy said. “Not very good armor, though. Sort of went through it fast during the war, and I never kept anything I made in Logstedshire-” A conversation for another time, Sam thought. “-so I never made it to last.”

Sam nodded. “Want to help me make this?”

Tommy considered the proposal for a moment. “Do I get to keep it?”

“It’s yours, Tommy.”

“Okay, but do I get to keep it?” Tommy repeated. “Because I don’t want to help build this shit if you’re just- like, if it’s gonna… you know, fucking disappear or something.”

Disappear, Tommy said. Not taken or stolen or destroyed, no, Tommy’s things had disappeared. Anything that had made him feel safe. Gone. “It won't.” And it wouldn’t. Not the armor, not the compass, not the safety. Sam wished he could word it more eloquently so that Tommy understood, but all he said was, “None of it is going to disappear.”

“You promise?” Tommy asked quietly. Quietly enough that Sam almost wasn’t sure if Tommy meant to ask.

Sam wondered if Tommy knew how vulnerable he sounded when he was quiet. He wondered if that was why Tommy chose to be loud. To yell and argue and fight, just so that he wasn’t quiet and vulnerable and scared.

“I promise.”

Notes:

Puffy finds out about the tower, what will she do??

A entire fucking therapy arc, that's what. She's coming for Tommy's trauma, folks, and she WILL make him open up about his childhood.

Chapter 19: Sparring Match

Notes:

THERAPY ARC, POG???

This will be fine, lmao. No therapy yet, just introducing Puffy's character. Sorry this chapter is a bit 'meh' and I apologize for any mistakes, I'm posting this, like, thirty seconds before I leave for work.

You’d have to be some kind of idiot to believe Tommy would be in a good place mentally after exile.

Puffy was a therapist, among other things, and she knew that exile wasn’t going to be good for Tommy the second she had heard about it. Regardless of what he did to get himself put there--which, apparently, was just something stupid that everyone else on the server had done--Tommy did not deserve to be isolated.

Admittedly, she didn’t know Tommy. She knew of Tommy, because how could she not? Within days of joining, she’d heard tales of the ever-stubborn Tommy Innit and his brother Wilbur Soot. It was a beautiful story, poetic and dressed up pretty with revolution and bravery.

But war, at the end of the story, is still just war. There were children in the aftermath.

The worry she felt for Tommy was only matched by the all-encompassing dread that came with knowing who did this. While any number of adults could be blamed for how Tommy turned out, she knew, deep down she knew, that Dream was the root of everything.

Dream…

Foolish was her son, and always would be, his odd past be damned. Dream, on the other hand, wasn’t, but he was something close. Puffy cared for Dream just as much as she cared for Foolish, but Dream had never been fond of labels, so Puffy never forced one on him. He was her duckling, and that was all he needed to be.

And now Puffy didn’t know what he was.

Regardless of whatever Dream had become, she couldn’t afford to dwell on it. She could psychoanalyze her own loss after she made sure Tommy was safe. It killed her inside to know that Tommy had been hurting for so long at the hands of Dream. Rationally, she couldn’t blame herself, because she hadn’t known, but that didn’t make the guilt any easier to bear.

Her only consolation was that, now, she knew--or, at least, she knew some part of it--and she could help Tommy as best she could.

She dreaded to know if there was more, and part of her wished she was still oblivious to Dream’s wrongdoing, but Tommy had suffered long enough because people turned a blind eye. If Dream had done something to Tommy, she needed to know.

The door in the side of the mountain was opening before Puffy had even reached it, Sam waiting to greet her in the opening. “Hey, Puffy. It’s good to see you.” He stepped to give her a hug. (Sam always had the best hugs, in Puffy’s opinion. Very warm and welcoming.)

“It’s good to see you, too.” Puffy gave him a couple pats on the back before pulling away. “It’s been a while since we’ve hung out, huh?”

Sam hummed. “I just wish it was under better circumstances.” A dog bolted out of Sam’s open door and started circling Puffy curiously. “Oh, you remember Fran?”

Puffy gasped. “Of course I remember Fran.” She crouched to pet the friendly, fuzzy face. “Who could possibly forget the best dog in the whole world?”

“Don’t steal my dog,” Sam warned.

“You’re no fun,” Puffy pouted.

Sam rolled his eyes in response. “Yeah, you and Tommy are going to get along just fine.”

Puffy stood and looked around, noticing the distinct lack of teenager in the area. “Where is he? Inside?”

“In the workshop,” Sam told her. “We were working on some netherite armor yesterday, and he’s been practically glued to the crafting table since. I’m not sure he’s ever made anything that wasn’t an absolute necessity or at risk of being destroyed.”

Building for fun, Puffy noted. A far safer pastime than thieving. She filed it away to ponder more in-depth at a later date.

“Sam!” a voice called. “Sam, I finished it, look!” A blur of purple stumbled over the threshold and onto the grass. “Look at this shit, I am literally the best!” Tommy straightened, beaming up at Sam in a full set of netherite armor and a sword in hand. “I made a sword,” he stated, his eyes alight with childish excitement.

“Great,” Sam told him. “Puffy’s here, by the way.”

Tommy’s gaze finally found her. “Oh! Hey, Captain Pussy.” He made a distressed noise. “Uh- Puffy! I meant to say Puffy, I don’t- I’m so sorry. I meant to say Captain Puffy.”

Puffy wouldn’t have been bothered even if the mispronunciation had been intentional. But the fact that it was an accident seemed infinitely funnier for reasons she couldn't explain. “Tommy!” she exclaimed through her laughter. “What-”

“I don’t know!” Tommy’s cheeks turned red and he glanced away. “ I don’t- shut up!” After a few moments, he turned back to Puffy and grinned. “You see this fucking awesome armor, though?” He opened his arms, showing off. “Made it myself.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“I did,” Tommy said. “Puffy, if Sam told you otherwise, he is a liar.”

“If you say so,” Puffy teased.

Tommy huffed. “Whatever.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anyway, uh, Sam? He shuffled in place. “Would you mind if I- like, if I stay close, am I allowed to stay outside? Swing the sword around a bit?”

An odd question, Puffy thought. Tommy was a child, but he was a parentless one. Tommy had never really needed explicit permission for anything, as far as Puffy knew, he really just did whatever he wanted. Yet, here he was, asking to be outside.

She would have liked to think it was because he finally felt comfortable and safe enough to act like a kid, but she wasn’t so naive to actually believe it. This was probably something Dream did.

Or Wilbur, a hopeful part of her reminded.

But probably Dream, too.

“Sure, Tommy,” Sam replied immediately. “I don’t care if you go outside. Just take Fran, okay?”

Tommy grinned and pumped a fist in the air. “Yes!” He whistled and started running. “Come on, Fran!”

Puffy laughed as Tommy ran to the nearest tree and started aggressively swinging at it. “Is he always like this?”

“Pretty much,” Sam said fondly. “He reminds me of Quackity, sometimes. Tommy’s not as good of a liar, though, but Quackity has always been a sneaky little bastard.”

“Has he?”

Sam shrugged. “I mean, he did grow up to be a politician. I’m sure you can do the math on that one.” He smiled as he watched Tommy hack carelessly at the tree. “He means well, though. And so does Tommy.”

Tommy, as if on cue, turned to them and waved, shouting something that Puffy couldn’t quite make out, but it was clear Tommy was quite proud of his sword. “Do you think Tommy would be open to a little training?” she asked. “I’m not the best swordsman on the SMP, but a sparring match or two might help him.”

If his uncoordinated slashes were anything to go by, Tommy could do with some guidance. Not that Puffy was an expert by any means, but she didn’t hold the title of ‘captain’ for nothing.

At least, she didn’t think she did.

“You’d have to ask Tommy,” Sam told her. “I assume he’d be okay with it, he’s always been up for a fight from what I hear, but… you know, recent events.

Puffy nodded. “Of course.” She pulled her own sword from her inventory. “Hey, Tommy!”

“I’ll be inside if you need anything,” Sam said. “Let me know if you, uh- notice anything. With your… therapist skills.”

She was perfectly aware that was the goal. Helping Tommy was her priority, but it couldn’t hurt to have some fun while she was at it. Healing was hard, but progress was progress. Maybe she could get Tommy to open up a little.

Tommy tilted his head curiously as Puffy walked over. “Yeah? Wanna beat up this tree with me?”

Puffy chuckled. “I’m sure the tree’s had enough.”

“The tree knows what it fucking did,” Tommy said, absently twirling his sword. It looked careless, at first glance, but upon closer inspection, Puffy thought it looked… practiced?

The sword halted, pulling Puffy’s attention back to Tommy’s questioning stare.

“Did you need something, or…?”

Puffy lifted her own sword. “A sparring match. I hear you might be a bit out of practice.”

Tommy scoffed. “You heard wrong.” He stepped away from the tree. “Fran, get back a ways, yeah?” He lifted his sword to match Puffy’s, moving away from the tree and giving them space to spar. “I’m the greatest soldier that ever lived, Puffy. Did you know that?”

“No, I did not,” Puffy admitted. “Let’s see you prove it, huh? What do you say… count of three?”

“Sure,” Tommy said. “Let’s see how you hold up against the great Tommy Innit.” He grinned. “You won’t hold up, by the way, just a spoiler alert for you, because I’m fucking amazing.”

Puffy took a breath. "One."

Tommy shifted, his demeanor changing despite his smile remaining as easy-going as ever. It was a fighting stance, Puffy realized. Not the best she'd ever seen, but it was balanced. Surprisingly so, given Tommy's lanky form.

"Two."

His eyes sharpened, and his smile turned into something determined, driven. Fran barked somewhere in the distance and Puffy remembered something.

"Three!"

Tommy survived two wars.

Puffy had expected Tommy to aim for her sword. It was how most kids play-fought, hitting each other's sword instead of their actual person, but not Tommy.

Tommy swung down immediately on Puffy's shoulder, giving her barely enough time to deflect and back away before he swung again.

He was untrained, but not inexperienced. His swings were wild, but aimed well enough to kill had Puffy not been prepared. She thrusted her sword at his chest, not hard enough to hurt through his armor, but fast enough that Tommy stumbled back to avoid it. His arm lowered, leaving himself a little more open.

Decent at offense. Terrible at defense. Puffy filed the information away and tried for another thrust aimed at Tommy's sword arm.

Tommy quickly lifted his lowered arm, knocking Puffy's sword aside. It was sloppy, and sent him reeling, but he steadied himself and gripped his sword with both hands.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

Puffy paused. Tommy's knuckles were white against the hilt of his sword, eyes narrowed and flicking around like he was waiting for another enemy to jump out at him. And maybe he was.

This wasn't a game anymore, Puffy realized. Not to Tommy. He probably hadn't been in a sword fight outside of war. His noticeable lack of training told her that he’d probably never sparred before either. Tommy was used to holding a sword and fighting for his life, not practicing.

"Time out," Puffy called. "Tommy, time out." Fran’s ears pricked at the sound of Puffy’s voice, but she otherwise seemed unbothered.

Tommy laughed, breathless and wavering. “What? Had enough?” His grip didn’t loosen.

Puffy put her sword in her inventory. “You know we’re not actually fighting, right?”

“Huh?”

She would have to explain this better. “We’re just sparring, Tommy. You look like you’re… well, fighting.”

Tommy frowned. “It’s- well, that’s what you do with a fucking sword, yeah?” He fiddled absently with the strap of his armor. “Was I not meant to… like, fight you or-”

“No,” Puffy said. “At least, not like that. Sparring is just to help you hone your skills. You’re not actually supposed to hurt each other.”

It wouldn’t be too difficult to make a couple of wooden swords, she realized. That’d probably feel less intimidating than the netherite they were both holding. And maybe he’d feel a little less defensive without the armor. They could have a little breather, grab some wood for swords, and then try sparring again.

A good plan, she thought.

“Tommy, take off your armor.”

Gray eyes widened slightly, looking at her in confusion and something close to fear. “What? But I… do I have to?”

Puffy frowned. “I think you’d be more comfortable if you did.”

Tommy gaze found the ground and stayed there. “Sam said I could keep it, though,” he said quietly. “Sam said this is mine.”

Concerned, Puffy took a step forward. “Tommy- “

He moved before Puffy could even blink, throwing his sword to the ground and backing away from it. “Sorry,” he gasped. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He struggled with the straps of his armor and tossed it all in a pile with his sword. “I’m sorry, Dream. Its fine. You can- I’ll-”

Fran, who had been obediently sitting where Tommy had told her to, suddenly stood, ran to him, and started leaning against his leg. She whined a bit, trying to get Tommy to take notice her, and barked at Puffy when that didn’t appear to work.

Puffy pulled out her communicator and shot Sam a quick message before slowly approaching Tommy again. “Tommy, do you know where you are?”

Tommy blinked. “I’m- I was…” His brow furrowed. “He took-” He glanced up at her. “Did- did you want me to dig a hole? ‘Cause I can, if you want.”

“For what?” Puffy asked, knowing she probably wasn’t going to like the answer.

“For my things,” Tommy answered, his eyes still glazed over with panic, “and for the TNT.”

The door to Sam’s base opened, revealing a very worried Sam covered in fresh redstone dust. She must have just interrupted a new project, but Sam didn’t seem to care. “Tommy?” He walked over, glancing at the pile of netherite materials, but quickly disregarded it. “What happened?”

“I just asked him to take off his armor,” Puffy explained. “I don’t… he mentioned Dream,” she added. Short explanations were best for the moment. Tommy needed help. They could go over details later. “And something about TNT.”

Sam took a breath. “Okay,” he said. He turned to Tommy, pushing up his goggles and letting his eyes crinkle with a friendly smile. “Hey, Tommy. Can you hear me?”

Tommy swallowed. “I took off my armor. Don’t have TNT, though. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Sam told him. “No one here wants TNT. Nothing is getting blown up. Okay?”

Fran whimpered, and Tommy absently reached out rest a hand on her head. “I don’t have to… can I have my things, then?”

“Of course,” Sam said easily. “Go ahead and put it in your inventory.” Tommy nodded and quickly scooped his items off the ground and let them disappear into his inventory. “Great.” Sam nodded to the house. “Why don’t you take Fran inside for a little while, huh? I bet she’d appreciate a break from this heat.”

Tommy wordlessly led Fran inside, leaving Sam and Puffy in the aftermath of what she could only assume was a flashback of sorts. “Sam?”

He sighed. “I know. I’m adding it to the mental list of things.” He counted off on his fingers. “He’s claustrophobic, afraid of explosions, hates being alone, and apparently doesn’t like being told to take his armor off...because he thinks it’ll be destroyed?”

Puffy nodded. “From what I gather.” She scowled. “He asked me if I wanted him to dig a hole. For his armor and for TNT.”

“So… Dream was blowing up Tommy’s things,” Sam concluded. “How often do you think he did that?”

“Often enough that it’s a knee-jerk reaction,” Puffy said. “Maybe every day? But it’s just speculation until Tommy’s ready to explain.”

Sam gave her a glance. “You still up for helping with this? I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Puffy watched Tommy disappear into the house, one hand never leaving Fran’s fur, and the other clenched into a trembling fist at his side.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “He deserves to heal from this. I’m going to help.”

Notes:

I'm trying to work on writing fight scenes. Trying to establish different fighting styles is difficult, but it was fun.

Also, yeah. There was some trauma there at the end. Sorry about it, kind of, but not really. And sorry if the ending was a little too abrupt, Tommy just has a lot going on, and it's to wrap it up all nice and pretty at the end of the chapter sometimes.

Chapter 20: Absolute Reciprocity

Notes:

In which Technoblade *does not* care about Tommy, seriously, you guys, he doesn't, and if someone asks him one more time, he's gonna start stabbing shit.

Funnily enough, Technoblade is one of my favorite characters to write, even though I don't actually care for him all that much. He doesn't talk a lot, so it's mostly just thought process, and I love to write thought process because I'm terrible at dialogue.

Also, Chat is simply a delight.

Logsted sus, Dream sus, TNT, explosions in logstedshire, Blood for the Blood God, Tommy sus?, L’Manburg sus, governments are all sussy, where’s Phil?, getting Phil, Logstedshire first, go get Phil, kill everyone in the country!, Blood for the Blood God!

Technoblade was sometimes thankful for the voices. This was not one of those moments.

Usefulness aside, Chat was really just an annoying entity that lived in his mind. In your head rent-free, Chat told him gleefully. The constant stream of thoughts made it difficult to sort through his own, especially when he was under pressure.

“Do you think Phil would like to meet Friend?” Ghostbur asked as they walked across the plains. “Friend is a very nice sheep, I think Phil would like him a lot.”

Technoblade was sometimes thankful for Ghostbur. This was one of those moments, a rare occasion when his distractibility came in handy.

“Yeah, Ghostbur,” Technoblade said. “I’m sure Phil will like Friend just fine.”

save Phil, go get Phil, LOGSTED SUS, Tommy needs blue, Technoblade Never Dies, tell Ghostbur that Tommy needs blue, WHAT ABOUT PHIL?

He definitely preferred Ghostbur’s voice over the stream of whispers in his head. Chat really served no purpose to him, other than encouraging violence and occasionally giving him information that he couldn’t have possibly gotten on his own.

And, sometimes, Chat really just made no sense at all.

You INSULT Chat?, e,  JAIL, eeeeee, face reveal when?,  JAIL for ONE THOUSAND YEARS, is this a lore stream?, e, e, e

“Technoblade?” Ghostbur inquired, “Why couldn’t I bring Friend with us to L’Manburg?”

“Because,” Technoblade explained, for what had to be the hundredth time, “this is a stealth mission. We get in, get Phil, and get out.” The repetition needed to keep Ghostbur focused would have been irritating any other day, but Techno was just grateful for a reprieve from Chat.

Ghostbur nodded. “Ah, yes. I remember that.” He clearly hadn’t remembered. And Technoblade was sure he wouldn’t remember this time either. “Um… why do we have to get Phil out of L’Manburg?”

Technoblade had called Phil shortly after Tommy’s visit the day prior. Phil had been reluctant to accept what he’d been told but promised to keep an eye out. Just a few hours later, he’d called Technoblade back, after seeing Fundy and Quackity linger around his house for the seventh time.

Phil wouldn’t be able to leave without someone noticing, or worse, attempting to follow him. That just meant Technoblade had to go get him. Which he didn’t mind, really, but he did wish Ghostbur would remember the severity of the situation.

“L’Manburg can’t be trusted,” Technoblade told Ghostbur firmly. “They’d hurt Phil to get to me, and I can’t let that happen. Phil is the only person on this server that I care about.”

Ghostbur tilted his head. “The only person?” he asked. “But we all got along so well in Pogtopia.”

“I think you and I remember Pogtopia differently, Ghostbur.” It wasn’t fair of Techno to say that he had no good memories of Pogtopia because, unfortunately, he did have some. Not enough that he could have overlooked what happened on November 16th, but it was… enough.

Enough that he retired, deciding that he’d rather have one real friend and peace than any number of ‘brothers-in-arms’.

“Well, I don’t remember much,” Ghostbur admitted. “But I do remember you. And Tommy!” Ghostbur fiddled with a bit of dye, blue staining his hands. “Do you think he’s alright? I’m sure he is, but he did look rather upset when he visited.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Ghostbur.” Tommy most likely wasn’t fine, actually, but Ghostbur wouldn’t remember that, even if Technoblade told him. “Besides, we’re going to Logstedshire to check on things anyway, right? Checking on your house and everything?”

Ghostbur brightened. “Oh, that’s right!” He clapped his hands together. “I hope TNRET is in decent shape, still.”

Technoblade struggled to interpret whatever a TNRET was. When he failed to come up with an answer, he asked, “What was the sound that just came out of your mouth?”

“TNRET?” Ghostbur hummed. “It’s Tommy’s tent. I told him that he could stay in the house, since I’m not really there all that often, but…” He trailed off. “Tommy… he, uh… he said something about-” He frowned. “He wouldn’t stay in the house because… because Dream-” Something like frustration crossed Ghostbur’s features, but it cleared just as quickly. “I’m sure he had a reason. It was a bit like a vacation, after all. Maybe he was camping!”

Dream is evil, Chat seethed. Dream’s kind pog ngl, it contradicted. Dream sus, sussy baka, and the voices were promptly tuned out.

“There it is!” Ghostbur darted ahead excitedly. Technoblade let him pull ahead, since he was really only here for the ghost’s sake (and to pacify Chat, at least for a moment). Whatever happened at Logstedshire wasn’t his business. The one time he’d visited Logstedshire had been to tease Tommy mercilessly, so he didn’t understand why Chat cared so much.

he warned you about L’Manburg, Chat so helpfully reminded him, he told you about Phil, I hate Tommy actually, Sadinnit!

Right… well, Chat had a point about the L’Manburg thing. Maybe Tommy was a thorn in everyone’s side sometimes, but Technoblade couldn’t deny that he… appreciated Tommy’s efforts. It didn’t mean he cared about Tommy, but he did potentially save Phil (and maybe Technoblade himself) from getting hurt or killed by L’Manburg, so…

so?

So, if anything, it proved Tommy was living up to the hero’s role that he fit into so nicely. Admittedly, he was becoming less and less Theseus by the day, but Tommy was a hero all the same, whether he wanted to be or not. He cared, probably too much, about a country that had long since abandoned him. Now it seemed Tommy was staying out of the fights all together.

Achilles had tried that once, Technoblade mused. He’d been pulled back into the war anyway, after the death of his partner, Patroclus, but he’d tried.

He wondered how long it’d be before Tommy was pulled back into the mess that was L’Manburg.

Logstedshire, Chat reminded him, Achilles, the tower, Achilles come down, no song references guys that’s too meta, go see Logstedshire

To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t expecting much when he finally caught up to Ghostbur. A tent, a house, the cobblestone tower they could see from miles away, but that was really all he expected.

He wasn’t expecting much… he wasn’t expecting nothing.

It was eerily familiar to see Ghostbur standing in front of a crater, except that he didn’t seem at all pleased with the destruction. The ghost blinked rapidly, staring at the ruins of Logstedshire like he couldn't quite process what he was seeing. And maybe he truly couldn’t. Nothing bad ever stuck with Ghostbur for long.

“Oh,” Ghostbur said quietly. “What… what happened?”

Technoblade shrugged. “Looks like TNT to me.”

Ghostbur looked alarmed. “But it… no. No, Tommy didn’t have any TNT.”

“Then it was probably Dream,” Technoblade reasoned. It seemed pretty in character for Dream, anyway. Chat had hinted that TNT had been involved, but he hadn’t realized it would be quite this devastating. No wonder Tommy had run off to stay with Sam.

The tower caught his gaze again. It wasn’t anything special, Tommy was known for making them, but it looked like it’d been built after Logstedhsire had been blown up.

crazy ass cosmonaut, Sadinnit, this reminds me of that one song!, get off the roof, Technoblade never dies!, it’s not worth it Achilles

Not that he particularly cared. What Tommy built and when hardly concerned him. And whatever Chat was doing in his head was probably just as benign and-

get off the roof, soldier on Achilles, child with a tower what will he do, where’s Dream?, Achilles come down

And probably didn’t mean anything at all. Tommy was still an irritation at best and a hassle at worst. He pitied Sam more than anything, having to be stuck with him.

you dense motherfucker

Technoblade grimaced and turned to Ghostbur. “We should get moving, otherwise we won’t make it to-” He cut himself off at the sight of Ghostbur smiling. Not that Ghostbur smiling was an inherently bad thing, just a little odd for the moment. He’d seemingly forgotten the destruction in front of them in favor of greeting a familiar face at the edge of the crater.

“Dream!” Ghostbur called happily.

“Ghostbur,” Technoblade said curtly, trying to communicate that they should leave.

“Technoblade?” Dream asked curiously.

Chat! the voices chimed in, maybe feeling left out.

“What brings you two to Logstedshire?” Dream inquired. “Kind of out of your way, isn’t it?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your concern,” Technoblade replied. “I have business in the area, and Ghostbur wanted to see Logstedshire.”

Ghostbur’s smile faltered at that, his gaze flicking back to the crater. “Yes, Logstedshire.” His gaze found Dream again. “What happened here, Dream? The house I built is gone and so is… everything else.”

Dream sighed dramatically. “Well, Tommy got bent out of shape about something or another. You know how he can be.” He gestured around. “Guess he takes after his brother. He didn’t get what he wanted, so…”

If Dream had said that to anyone else, they probably would have believed it. Dream was good with words that way. He was something like Wilbur and, yet, his total opposite.

Wilbur relied on information that he knew to get what he wanted, twisted feelings that were already there. He needed people close. He needed to know them, to get them on his side.

Dream, on the other hand, counted on information that people didn’t have. He filled in blank spaces with misinformation and created emotions that could be manipulated. And he didn’t particularly care if you were on his side or not. In a way, that might have made him more dangerous than Wilbur.

Fortunately for Technoblade, he had information that Dream was clearly unaware of. And the information that Technoblade had was that Tommy would do just about anything if it meant he was nothing like Wilbur.

Funny how being a hero worked, you simply tried to not be the bad guy. If Tommy didn’t want to be Wilbur, then the chances that he’d blow up anything, much less his own place of residence, with TNT was slim to none.

Also, Ghostbur had just told him that Tommy didn’t have TNT.

He had more information than Dream thought he did. There was a kind of power in that.

“I don’t think Tommy would have blown up Logstedshire,” Ghostbur said with a frown. “That doesn’t seem like something he’d do.”

“Tommy burned down George’s house,” Dream replied. “It’s not a stretch.” He dismissed Ghostbur and  turned to Technoblade. “He disappeared afterwards, and I haven’t been able to find him since.”

Technoblade had an idea of where this was going. “That kind of sounds like a you problem,” he told Dream, hoping that would deter him from continuing the conversation.

Dream tilted his head. “Have you seen him?”

“Why would I have seen him?" Technoblade asked. Realistically he shouldn’t have. No one other than Phil should have known where Technoblade was. Even Ghostbur had found him by accident .

plot hole, Chat decided, don’t think about it too hard, Tommy found it weeks ago, it’s for plot convenience, he was wandering

Ghostbur looked at Technoblade in surprise. “But we-”

Technoblade was sometimes grateful for Ghostbur. This was not one of those moments. “To answer your question, Dream,” he interrupted. “No. We haven’t seen Tommy.”

But the damage had been done already. “I think you might have seen him, actually.” Dream’s gaze was locked on Technoblade. “Mind telling me where he is?”

And Technoblade could have told the truth. It’d probably be the easiest thing to do, since Ghostbur had already let it slip that they knew, but…

This was so much easier when I could just fight people, Tommy had said. Fuck this, and fuck Sam for making me all soft and shit-

“Technoblade,” Dream snapped. “Where is Tommy? I know you’ve seen him.”

Tommy was trying to stay out of the fight. Actively trying to prevent another war. Maybe he’d already damned himself by getting involved, Technoblade had no doubt that his intervention would backfire with Tubbo or Quackity eventually.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Technoblade lied. “I don’t know where Tommy is.”

If asked, Technoblade would say that he owed Tommy for warning him about L’Manburg. If asked again, he’d say that he couldn’t care less about Dream and Tommy’s rivalry and simply wanted to stay out of the situation altogether. If asked a third time, he’d politely tell you with the business of his sword to leave him alone.

Dream considered him for a moment. “And you’re sure about that?”

“I am sure,” Technoblade said. “I couldn’t care less about Tommy. What exactly makes you think I’m keeping tabs on him?” Ghostbur seemed to get the hint, and didn’t try correcting Technoblade again. Instead, he looked everywhere except Dream and hummed to himself, which was, arguably, about a thousand times more telling than his slip-up earlier.

“Fine,” Dream relented. “But you’ll let me know if you hear anything, right?”

Technoblade kept his face impassive. “Dream, I am a man of absolute reciprocity.”

Dream stared for a moment. “Right," he said slowly. "Well, I’ll be seeing you.”

“Sure,” Technoblade replied. He had no intention of doing so, but if it would make Dream stop bothering him, he was willing to agree.

“Ghostbur,” Dream waved, “I’ll be seeing you, too.”

Ghostbur waved back happily. “Bye, Dream!” He floated back to stand at Technoblade’s side, watching Dream disappear to god knows where. “Where do you think he goes when he disappears like that?”

“No idea,” Technoblade said. “And, quite frankly, I don’t care. I'm pretty sure he’s homeless, anyway.” After a few more moments to make sure Dream was out of sight, Technoblade turned and started towards L’Manburg. “Come on. We still have to get Phil.”

Chat was blatantly refusing to stop spamming Technocare in his head, and he tried his best to tune them out again. He didn’t not care about Tommy Innit. Caring took time and energy, and Technoblade already had a good portion of that taken by Phil. Besides, Tommy already had Sam.

Technoblade was simply a man of absolute reciprocity, just as he’d told Dream.

And if Technoblade got to have a shot at retirement, then maybe Tommy deserved one, too.

Notes:

Chat gets to be meta because I say so. Chat gets to be stupid and fun and very, very meta.

If you don't know what song Chat is referencing, it's "Achilles, Come Down" by Gang of Youths. I've seen this song in reference to Tommy so many times, that I couldn't *not* include it somewhere in the story. Also, Technoblade may or may not have a new name for Tommy.

Side note: I'm sorry if people were expecting this to be solely about Tommy and his healing journey with Sam. It most definitely is not, because Tommy going to Sam would impact a hell of a lot, and it's ridiculously fun to mess around with. This story is an exploration of a lot of characters, not just Tommy.

I apologize if you were here for fluff. There will be fluff, I promise, but there will also be pain. Lots of pain, and I'm very sorry about it, but only kinda.

Anyhow... who wants a Philza POV?

Chapter 21: Pieces of Something

Notes:

I rewatched one of the old Tommy and Techno streams because BedrockBros, yes, I want them back. Tommy called Phil "Dadza" once and I'm. you know I had to do something with that shit. If Techno's gonna accidentally kind of give a fuck, you know Phil is gonna have to as well.

Also, Phil is a grieving father. I can and will explore that as much as I possibly can because it is literally the only interesting thing about his otherwise very two dimensional character.

Sorry if the chapter sucks, I literally have know idea how to write this man, and I'm pretty sure it shows.

If Phil had a diamond for every time he said, I don’t know why I stay in L’Manburg, he’d be a very rich man and a liar.

He owned property in the country, but he’d hardly consider himself a citizen. Technically speaking, he could have left L’Manburg at any time--and it was tempting to--but he didn’t. Technoblade had offered, more than once, to come to the snow biome, but Phil had turned him down every time.

Because this country was Wilbur’s.

Phil didn’t have much left of his son. Nothing but some letters and this country. This country, Wilbur’s unfinished symphony, was mostly what had driven him mad in the first place, but if there was still just a piece of something that Wilbur loved here, then Phil wanted to know what it was.

For Wilbur, and only for Wilbur, Phil tried to love L’Manburg.

Then Technoblade called with a warning.

It was very clear that whatever Wilbur had founded L’Manburg on was long gone. Freedom, independence, Phil could find none of it in the newly built nation. And if this was no longer the country that Wilbur built, then it was no longer Phil’s responsibility to hold onto it.

Phil wasn’t necessarily sure he wanted to believe it, at first, especially since the news had come from Tommy, of all people. He didn’t know Tommy very well, personally, but the kid had a… reputation. A liar and a thief, among other things. And he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened with the whole exile thing, but apparently Tommy had burned down a house.

Not the most trustworthy person, in Phil’s opinion.

But he did trust Technoblade, and if Fundy and Quackity lurking outside his house was any indication, they were actually planning to keep him there. Which… made Tommy considerably more trustworthy than L’Manburg. Not by much, but still.

He sighed, trying to avoid looking at the newly built platform just outside his house. If what Tommy said was true, then Phil had a good idea of what it could be for. “What’s your ETA, mate?”

“We’re close. Got held up in Logstedshire,” Techno answered.

“Hi, Phil!” Ghostbur’s voice chirped.

His feelings about his son’s ghost were largely undecided, but Phil couldn’t find it in himself to be impolite. “Hello, Ghostbur.”

“We’ll be there soon.” Technoblade continued. “We got stopped by Dream. There was a pause. “Did you know Dream blew up Logstedshire? It looks like a mini L’Manburg.” There was a detached disinterest to the question, like Technoblade didn’t actually care all that much about the answer, but Phil noted the curiosity behind it. 

“Dream, eh?” Phil leaned against the frame of his window, still keeping an eye out for Fundy or Quackity. “I’d heard Logstedshire was destroyed, but I was sort of under the impression that Tommy did it.” According to rumors and stories, it wasn’t an unfounded assumption.

Ghostbur gasped. “Tommy? No, no, Tommy wouldn’t do that, Phil.”

“Yeah, no,” Technoblade agreed. “Dream’s gonna spread that around, probably, but anyone who thinks Tommy would blow up Logstedshire doesn’t know him very well.”

To be fair, Phil didn’t know Tommy very well. Or at all, actually. “And I suppose you know him well?” he asked Technoblade in amusement.

“Well enough,” Technoblade said. “Enough to know that he wouldn’t follow in his brother’s footsteps.” Ghostbur made an uncomfortable noise at that.

Fundy crossed Phil’s field of vision. “His brother?” Phil said in confusion. “What brother? Tubbo?” Fundy looked into the window of his house, catching his gaze momentarily before turning away.

“Tubbo?” Ghostbur asked in confusion.

“Tommy's brother? I don't know who else it would be. I can’t think of anyone else who’s that close to Tommy.” Phil watched Fundy walk away. Something about it stung, watching the only surviving member of Wilbur’s family walk away.

“No. What do you- no,” Technoblade said. “Phil, I’m talking about Wilbur.”

Phil blinked. “What?”

“Tommy is… he’s Wilbur’s younger brother,” Technoblade said slowly. “Did you not know?”

“When did-” Phil shook his head. “Mate, can I speak to Ghostbur for a moment?”

Technoblade didn’t respond, but the next voice he heard was Ghostbur’s. “Phil?”

Phil took a breath. “Ghostbur, mate, I need you to answer something for me, okay?”

“Okay,” Ghostbur said agreeably.

“Do you remember Tommy?” Because Ghostbur only remembered everything good. If Tommy was among the few memories that Ghostbur had, that meant Tommy was good to his son. That was more than Phil could say for L’Manburg.

Ghostbur laughed. “Of course I remember Tommy! I know I’m a bit of an amnesiac, but I don’t think I could forget my little brother, Phil. He’s actually-”

“Phil,” Techno’s voice interjected. “We’re on the outskirts of L’Manburg. Can this conversation wait?”

Phil shook himself mentally, still reeling from the fact that Wilbur had a brother that he somehow knew nothing about. “Of course, mate.” He glanced outside again. “I think you’re in the clear. Fundy was around a second ago, but he just cleared out.”

He tried not to be bitter.

“Great,” Technoblade responded. “One less thing to worry about.” And with that, the call ended. Phil could only assume that meant Technoblade was preparing to sneak in. Truthfully, he probably could have gotten himself out, if he really wanted to, but Technoblade had insisted on helping break Phil out.

Phil scanned the general area for signs of an invisible person. Small particles, imprints in the grass, and the like.

He wasn’t expecting Technoblade to just come strolling up to his house. It didn’t surprise him, exactly, Technoblade was never known for his subtlety, but it was kind of funny to see.

“Techno!” Phil threw open his down and dragged Technoblade inside. “Mate, I thought you were sneaking in.”

Technoblade shrugged. “I mean, I was going to, but then I figured that I could just kill anyone that tried to stop us from leaving.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to get caught.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Technoblade said lightly. “I have every intention of not being spotted by L’Manburg. However… should the opportunity arise-”

“Techno!” Phil punched his friend playfully on the arm. “You came to L’Manburg to pick a fight! I can’t believe you.”

Technoblade shrugged. “I will neither confirm nor deny that I would like to fight someone. I hear Quackity’s been around a lot, lately. It’d be a shame if we ran into him.”

Phil did his best not to laugh. “You’re ridiculous, Techno.” He gestured vaguely around his house. “Okay, I’ve got a lot of my stuff in an enderchest already. Anything else important I could just put in my inventory. Is Ghostbur just… out there waiting?”

“He’s very excited for you to meet his sheep,” Technoblade deadpanned. “It’s all he’s been talking about.”

“I bet,” Phil hummed. “Keep watch, would you? If you didn’t bring invisibility potions, then we’re gonna have to keep an eye out.”

Technoblade made a noncommittal noise, but moved to stand by the window anyway. “You said Quackity and Fundy have been hanging around.”

Phil shrugged. “And Ranboo, sometimes. I think it’s mostly against his will. He doesn’t seem to be happy to be doing it, anyway.”

“Well, Chat’s telling me he’s friends with Tommy, so-” Technoblade frowned. “He is… also friends with Tubbo? Don’t know how I feel about that one.”

“You’re trusting Tommy all of a sudden?” Phil asked.

His friend snorted. “I think trust is a strong word.” There was a pause. “But not a lot of people would have gone out of their way to warn me about what L’Manburg was planning.  Tommy risked getting caught by Dream to come tell me.”

“Right, Dream.” Phil checked over his inventory one more time before turning to Technoblade. “You mentioned earlier that you saw him at Logstedshire?”

“He’s looking for Tommy,” Technoblade explained. “Being weird about it. You’d think he was Tommy’s warden or something.” His nose scrunched. “Now Chat’s yelling at me. Something about a prison? A prison by the- what?” He shook his head. “Chat, I’m trying to concentrate.”

Phil joined Technoblade at the window. “Coast clear?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Aren’t you retired?” Phil asked as they slipped out the front door. “Why do you want to pick a fight so bad?”

Technoblade leveled him with an even stare. “They could have hurt you.”

Phil put a hand on his shoulder. “But they didn’t.” He followed Technoblade around the side of his house so that they could sneak away. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about-” He was cut off by Technoblade coming to a halt. “Techno?”

“Uh…” a nervous voice answered. “Hey, guys.” Phil moved around Technoblade to see Ranboo standing in front of them, looking every bit the scared child, despite the fact he was taller than both of them. “Am I interrupting something?”

Technoblade pulled an axe out of his inventory in response.

Ranboo nodded. “Ah, okay. That’s not… you’re threatening me now, which is cool.” Phil was amazed at the steadiness of Ranboo’s voice, despite his anxious demeanor. “I, uh- I saw Techno go into your house, and I just…”  He frowned at Technoblade’s axe. ”You know I’m not gonna, like, stop you, right?”

“You’re working with the government,” Technoblade said.

“Eh,” Ranboo shrugged. “I mean, I’m friends with Tubbo, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

Technoblade lifted his axe. “You’re friends with the government,” he emphasized.

Ranboo straightened. “I’m friends with a person,” he corrected. His gaze flitted to Phil for a moment. “And… you know, Phil doesn’t have to stay in L’Manburg, if he doesn’t want to. There’s nothing keeping him here.” He glanced back to Technoblade. “Pretty sure it’d be, like... illegal, kinda? If I tried to make him stay.”

“It’d also be very bad for your health,” Technoblade threatened.

“Mate,” Phil said in a low voice, hoping to calm Techno down. It sounded like Ranboo was trying to hint that they could go. “Relax. I don’t think he’s trying to stop us.”

“It’s fine,” Ranboo said quickly. “I get it. Just, uh- I do have a question.” Phil raised an eyebrow. “How did… how did you guys know?” ‘About the execution’ went unsaid. Neither of them should have known, but they did, so, Ranboo was curious. Phil couldn’t blame the kid for being confused.

Phil nodded to Technoblade. “Tommy told Techno. Techno told me.”

Ranboo breathed out a laugh. “Tommy. Should have known.” His expression became worried. “Tommy… he’s okay, right? When you saw him, was he-”

“He’s fine,” Technoblade said shortly. “And not my biggest concern at the moment.”

“Right, right, of course.” Ranboo stood aside. “Sorry, go ahead. If I see Fundy or Quackity, I’ll keep them away from your house for a little bit. Should give you guys a chance to get some distance.” He smiled awkwardly. “I’ll, uh… I’ll see you later?”

Phil, for some reason, had no doubt that they would. “Sure, mate. See you later.” He nudged Technoblade’s arm. “Come on.”

Technoblade studied Ranboo for a moment. “I don’t know what Tommy told you,” he said slowly. “But I will bring hell to L’Manburg if any one of you tries something.”

Ranboo nodded. “No, yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what Tommy said.”

“I mean it,” Technoblade warned.

“I believe you.”

“I’ll destroy this place.”

“Tommy said you would.”

Technoblade’s eyes narrowed. “You’re weirdly calm about this.”

Ranboo tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Phil laughed. “Alright, come on.” He practically shoved Technoblade forward. “Leave the kid alone.” Technoblade finally moved, still eyeing Ranboo as they made their way out of L’Manburg. “Quit staring, mate. He’s fine.”

“He’s weird.”

“He’s a kid,” Phil corrected. “He probably just doesn't want to see anyone get hurt.”

Technoblade rolled his eyes. “He chose the wrong side, then.”

Phil hummed in thought. “I’m not so sure that he did pick a side. He’s friends with Tubbo, Tommy, and he’s helped both of us. That’s three entirely different sides right there. Sounds like Ranboo doesn’t particularly care about choosing one over the other.”

“I will reiterate that he is weird,” Technoblade said. “But I guess he has the potential to be useful.”

Before Phil could question Ranboo’s ‘usefulness’, a cheery voice called out, “Phil!”

Phil smiled as Ghostbur approached. “Hey, mate. How’ve you been?”

“Great!” Ghostbur answered. “I’ve got a pet sheep now, Phil. His name is Friend, and he’s blue, and- Oh!.” He held out his hand, a piece of blue dye in his permanently stained palm. “Would you like some blue, Phil?”

“I’m alright.”

Ghostbur nodded. “Okay!” He started humming absently as they walked. “We saw Dream earlier. Do you know Dream, Phil? He’s a good friend of mine.” He tilted his head. “Except I think he was mean to Tommy, so maybe not.”

“Oh, yeah.” Phil turned to Technoblade. “How’d that go, by the way? You mentioned earlier that he was looking for Tommy. Does he not know where Tommy is?”

“Nope,” Technoblade answered.

Phil waited for him to elaborate. “Do… you know where Tommy is?”

“Yep.”

“Did you tell Dream?”

“Nope.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason why you didn’t tell him?

A beat of silence, and then, “No.”

Ghostbur grinned. “I think Technoblade is being soft.”

Technoblade scowled at Ghostbur. “Don’t ever say that again.” His scowl deepened. “Chat is spamming Technosoft now.” Phil couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Don’t- stop laughing. Phil, how could you betray me like this?”

“Technosoft?” Phil asked incredulously.

“Whatever,” Technoblade huffed. “Look, even Achilles tried to retire. If Tommy wants to stay away from L’Manburg and Dream, it’s not my place to give up his location. I’m not soft, I’m simply uninterested in creating more drama.”

Phil grinned. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, mate.”

“Stop giving Chat ideas, Phil, it’s making them stronger and more annoying,” Technoblade said. “They literally haven’t shut up about Tommy since yesterday, and it’s the most irritating thing in the world.”

“I wonder when Tommy’s gonna visit us again,” Ghostbur wondered out loud. “I miss seeing him every day like I did in Logstedshire.” He fiddled with the dye in his hand. “If I knew where Sam lived, I’d go visit him there.”

That was a new name for Phil. “Sam?”

Technoblade sighed. “One of the original eight,” he explained. “He’s taken Tommy in after Dream… whatever Dream did. His base is somewhere around the Badlands, I think. Apparently Sam is part of the reason Tommy is staying out of the conflict between L’Manburg and I.”

“Huh.” That didn’t sound like any version of Tommy that Phil had heard about thus far, but it was… interesting. “So, he’s staying out of it.”

“I think he’s gonna try,” Technoblade mused. “But trouble tends to find Tommy, no matter where he hides. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got dragged into this somehow. Kicking and screaming, of course, but it’ll happen.”

The dye in Ghostbur’s hands darkened a bit. “You really think so?” His expression flickered for a moment, then broke into a soft smile. “Tommy seems happy with Sam, though. I think I’d like trouble to not find Tommy this time.”

Ghostbur’s softness for Tommy reminded Phil of his earlier revelation, “You’re really Tommy's brother, then.” It wasn’t a question, Phil could see it now that he was watching Ghostbur talking about the teenager. Maybe he should have realized sooner, Tommy was mentioned an awful lot in Wilbur’s letters.

“I am,” Ghostbur said, brightening considerably. “Tommy is great, Phil. Really, he is. He once fought Dream, just so L’Manburg could have independence! I mean, he did lose, which was unfortunate, and really hard to watch." Ghostbur winced at the memory, then continued with, "But he still got our independence anyway! He gave up his discs and everything. I remember Alivebur being so happy when Tommy came back with the news.”

This was a version of Tommy that Phil didn’t know. L’Manburg’s version of Tommy was a fighter, Dream’s version of Tommy was reckless, Techno’s version of Tommy was annoying. It was a volatile mix for a teenager. Phil had no doubt that all those versions were very much the truth, just little puzzle pieces that made up Tommy's character, but...

But Ghostubur’s version of Tommy was also caring. Loyal. It was a version of Tommy that Phil decided he’d like to hear more of. Wilbur’s version. The one thing of Wilbur that Phil had left. “Tell me more about Tommy,” he encouraged. “Or, at least, anything you can remember.”

Technoblade groaned. “Great. Chat’s gonna be blowing up about this all day.”

Notes:

I can't decide if I want to do a Tommy POV or a Tubbo POV for the next chapter. I mean, either way, Tubbo is gonna is about to have so many trust issues, it's not even funny.

Well... more trust issues than he already has.

Also, I officially hate writing Philza POV. I hate it with all of my hate, god, he is so boring to write. Sir, where is your *character*. Where is your *spice*. Philza Minecraft is, objectively speaking, so very boring. And I doooon't like writing himmmmm, ahhhhhhhh-

Chapter 22: Friends Don't Make Secrets

Notes:

Let's go, Tubbo POV! I got this chapter done faster than I thought I would. Probably because I'm back to writing a character that's three-dimensional and complex, with goals and shit that actually makes him interesting to write.

The c!Philza slander never stops here, btw. It's not that I think he's totally unlikeable or anything, he's just objectively--OBJECTIVELY, like from a writer's standpoint--incredibly uninteresting.

Also, I don't like him.

“What do you mean Phil is gone?” Tubbo asked incredulously. “Where did he go?” This wasn’t what he was expecting when Quackity called another meeting. He was expecting another rant about Technoblade, maybe, but he wasn’t expecting their one lead to the anarchist to be missing.

Quackity spluttered out an angry, “What are you asking me for? I don’t know!” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, Phil hasn’t left his house in weeks, there’s no way it’s a coincidence that he’s left the day before you make a decision about the trial.”

Fundy frowned. “You think someone tipped him off?”

“I think something did,” Tubbo replied. “Maybe he got weirded out by you guys hanging around his house all the time,” Fundy looked embarrassed and glanced away. “Why were you even doing that?”

“We had to make sure he wasn’t gonna leave,” Quackity explained.

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “Did a great job with that, huh?”

Quackity’s eyes narrowed. “Well, at least we were doing something.”

“You could have been doing literally anything else,” Tubbo snapped. “I hadn’t even made a decision yet, Quackity, you didn’t need to stalk Phil’s house.”

“For your information,” Quackity said, “I’ve been doing more than just stalking Phil’s house.”

Ranboo cleared his throat. “Uh, guys? I think maybe now isn’t the time to be fighting?”

Tubbo closed his eyes. He knew Ranboo was right, but it felt better to argue than to actually face what was happening.

Sounds like Tommy.

“Fine,” he bit out. “Enough fighting, just… let’s find something productive to do about this.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “Fundy and Quackity can go look around Phil’s house, see if there’s any clues as to where he went.”

“We can assume he went to Techno’s place, right?” Fundy asked. “So… what? We just look for anything that’s gonna point us in Techno’s direction?”

Tubbo stood. “I don’t care what you look for. As long as you think it’ll help, I’ll consider it a win.” They could really use a win after losing their one lead to Technoblade. “Ranboo, I need to ask your opinion on something, if you wouldn’t mind staying.”

Ranboo looked surprised. “Of course, yeah.”

“Great.” Tubbo waved a hand dismissively. “Okay, if Phil and Techno have really been tipped off, then we’ll need to move fast.”

“Right,” Quackity jerked his head to the door, “Fundy, let’s go.”

Fundy hesitated, but followed Quackity out the door. Tubbo took a breath as the door shut behind them. “How could Phil have found out about the execution? How many people even know about it?”

Ranboo thought for a moment. “I mean, Quackity has visited Sam recently, right? And I’ve talked to Tommy.”

“About the trial?”

“Well, yeah,” Ranboo said sheepishly. “He seemed really worried about… that whole situation.”

Tubbo took a moment to think that over. That put Tommy on the list of people that could have potentially just hindered their little project. He doubted Tommy was actually the one who told Phil to get out of L’Manburg, Tommy wouldn’t have risked coming to L’Manburg, but… Technoblade probably would.

“So, if Technoblade really is helping Phil,” Tubbo said slowly, “then who told Technoblade?” He glanced up at Ranboo, who wasn’t meeting his gaze. “Do you think… you don’t think Tommy would have done it, do you?”

Ranboo shrugged. “I mean… yeah? Yeah, he might have.”

Of course he might have, Tubbo thought bitterly. Who was he kidding? It was Tommy. He loved Tommy, he really did, but he wished his friend wouldn’t make things so difficult sometimes. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, but we don’t know for sure, right?”

Because surely Tommy wouldn’t fuck this up that bad, right? Tommy, who had fought Technoblade on Tubbo’s behalf, couldn’t possibly be the one that had tipped the anarchist off. No, surely not. Tommy wouldn’t…

Would he?

He looked to Ranboo for an answer. He didn’t get one.

Tubbo pulled out his communicator. “I’m calling him.”

“Who? Tommy?” Ranboo asked.

“Who else?” Tubbo pressed Tommy’s name and waited for a response. When nothing happened, Tubbo had to bite back a growl of frustration. “What the-'' He quickly spam-messaged Tommy to voice chat with him, but still received no response. “What the hell is he doing?”

Ranboo reached out and put a hand over Tubbo’s. “It’s only been ten seconds, Tubbo. He might be busy.”

Tubbo yanked his hand away. “Busy doing what? Burning down another house?” It was bitter, and harsh, and he had never been more grateful that Tommy wasn’t around to hear him say it.

Ranboo glanced away. “I keep telling you this, Tubbo, but Tommy wasn’t the only one involved with what happened to George’s house.”

As if Tubbo needed that reminder. The way Ranboo had defended Tommy still sat uncomfortably with him whenever he thought about the sentencing. “No, I know, it’s just that…” He trailed off, unable to find the words to finish the statement. What could he say? “It’s just- it’s Tommy, you know? You understand what I mean.”

“No, Tubbo,” Ranboo said. “I don’t.” His tail flicked anxiously. “And maybe it- maybe it’s because I don’t know him as well as you do, but I really just don’t get how everyone still treats me normal and Tommy like... like that.”

“Like what?” Tubbo asked, not entirely sure he actually wanted to hear the answer.

Ranboo shifted. “I mean, it’s kind of like…” His dual gaze flickered between emotions for a moment. “You never even asked us what happened, you just-” Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by Tubbo’s communicator going off.

“Finally!” Tubbo grabbed the communicator and immediately joined the voice call. “Tommy, where the hell were you?”

“Whoa, whoa! You fucking worried or something, Big T?” Tommy laughed on the other end of the line. “Relax, man, I was just hanging out with… with some friends.” Tubbo blinked, struggling to keep up. Tommy was just hanging out? He was with friends? What friends? Who was he with? “Anyway. What’s up, Tubzo?”

Right. He’d called for a reason. “What’s up. Yeah, I just- there’s been a bit  of a situation in L’Manburg.”

“Oh,” Tommy said, and if Tubbo didn’t know any better, he’d say Tommy sound… disinterested. Like he didn’t care. “Uh… what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Something warm and familiar stirred in Tubbo at the question. Of course Tommy still cared, Tubbo was just… on edge. Tommy still cared. He was Tommy, and this was L’Manburg. “Phil managed to get out of L’Manburg somehow,” Tubbo said, confidence restored. “We think Techno might have helped him. Or is harboring him, at least.”

“Really?” Tommy asked. “I mean… okay, that’s- okay. Phil’s gone. So what?”

So what.

So what?

“So,” Tubbo said slowly. “We assume that he went to Technoblade, or that Technoblade helped him get out, and… Ranboo told me that you might have told Technoblade about the execution.” Tommy was quiet. Probably not a good sign, but Tubbo chose to be optimistic. “You didn’t, though, right?”

“Maybe I did,” Tommy replied loftily. “What of it?”

Too optimistic, maybe.

Ranboo tilted his head. “What’s happening?”

Tubbo scowled, situating the phone so that Ranboo could hear. “You told Technoblade?” he demanded. “After everything he’s done?”

“Fuck off,” Tommy replied. Then, after a moment, “Okay, yeah, I told him. But I had a good reason to, Tubbo! Don’t you remember what happened the last time someone pissed him off? What the fuck did you expect me to do, exactly?”

“What do you- nothing,” Tubbo heaved an  exasperated sigh. “I don’t expect you to do anything, Tommy, you’re not-” He cut himself off. Ranboo’s eyes widened, as if he’d known what Tubbo had almost said.

There was a moment of awful silence. “I’m not… what?”

Part of L’Manburg, Tubbo had almost said.

“Forget it,” Tubbo said quickly. “I just… you know what he did to us, and I’m- I’m kinda struggling to understand why you would help him.”

Tommy snorted. “Helping the Blade? No, no, no. Tubbo, who do you think I am?”

Tubbo wasn’t sure if he could answer that. “I think you’re the one helping an enemy.”

“Really,” Tommy said flatly. “That- that’s the one you’re going with? You fucking-” Tommy sighed, a drawn-out, tired sounding thing. Like Tubbo was the exhausting one. “Look, I know you and Big Q are trying for… for justice or something, whatever, but-”

“Big Q?” Tubbo interrupted. “You’ve talked to Quackity? Quackity knows where you are?” Ranboo stiffened at that, his gaze flickering to every corner of the room. “Ranboo, do you know where Tommy is?”

“Is Ranboo there?” Tommy seemed to perk up considerably at the mention of Ranboo, which… didn’t bother Tubbo, exactly, but something about it made him feel inadequate in a way. Tommy hadn’t sounded that excited to hear from him, but Ranboo? “Oi, bitch boy! Say ‘hello’ if you can hear me!”

Ranboo sighed. “Hi, Tommy.”

Tubbo scowled. “No, we’re not- we’re not glossing over that. How long has Quackity known where you are?” He looked up at Ranboo. “How long have you known?”

“Couple of days,” Ranboo admitted. “I didn’t want to mention it.”

“What do you care anyway?” Tommy asked. “I already said I don’t want you to know, and- and Puffy said I’m allowed to have those boundaries, if I want.”

Tubbo scoffed. “Oh, now you’re concerned about boundaries.” The rest of Tommy’s sentence caught up with him. “Wait- Puffy? Puffy knows, too? How many people know?!” Tommy didn’t even know Puffy all that well. Neither one of them did! Quackity, he could maybe understand. Ranboo, he could maybe understand. But why did Puffy, a damn near complete stranger, get to know?

A muffled voice on Tommy’s end caught Tubbo off guard. It was indistinguishable, frustratingly enough, but the tone was concerned. “It’s fine,” Tommy told the mysterious voice. “It’s Tubbo, and we’re… no, he’s just- what? Oh. Okay, yeah, give me a second.”

Ranboo leaned forward a bit. “Tommy?”

“Sorry, guys,” Tommy apologized. “I’ve got some big man shit to do today. You know how it goes. Women to woo, snapchats to send.” There was a pause. “If I told you to leave Techno and Phil alone, would you listen to me?”

Tubbo had almost forgotten that was the reason he called. “Someone has to do something about Technoblade, Tommy,” he said firmly. “And you’ve just made it ten times harder.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Tommy insisted. “You know what he’d do to L’Manburg if-”

“You’re not the vice-president anymore, Tommy,” Tubbo snapped. “It’s not your call.”

Tommy was quiet for a moment. “Okay. Fuck me, I guess.” He made a frustrated noise. “Fuck you, actually. I don’t know. Whatever.” He took a breath. “Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

“You first.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Tubbo ended the call before he could get any angrier. It made his heart twist into uncomfortable knots afterwards, he’d never left a call with Tommy angry before. Annoyed, sure, because Tommy was just like that, but never really, truly angry. He never said an angry goodbye.

He supposed that wasn’t true either.

He tried hard not to remember the look in Tommy’s eyes as Dream dragged him away. He tried to forget how much it looked like betrayal.

“Tubbo?” Ranboo prompted quietly, “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Tubbo said for the third time in a row. “I’m fine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You wouldn’t be willing to tell me where Tommy’s hiding, would you? Or at least tell me who’s allowed to visit and why?”

Ranboo hummed. “Well, I can’t tell you where he is because… I actually literally can’t.” He drummed his fingers nervously. “I had it- it was written down in a book, and that book has, uh… gone missing? I’d have to ask Tommy for the coordinates again.” His hand stilled. ‘But even if I didn’t lose it, Tubbo, I still couldn’t tell you. I promised I wouldn’t. I don’t break promises.”

Tubbo knew that Ranboo was too kind to be passive-aggressive, but that didn’t stop the guilt from pooling in his stomach at the phrasing. Ranboo didn’t break promises, but maybe Tubbo did, and maybe that was what drove Tommy away.

But he had to. Tubbo had his responsibilities as president, and it wasn’t his fault if Tommy couldn’t accept some responsibility of his own. Exile had been a necessary evil.

“I could tell you who, though, if you want,” Ranboo continued. “It’s, uh… it’s the people who visited him? Or tried to, in Puffy’s case.” A beat. “During exile, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo said shortly, “I knew what you meant.” Because the universe sure did love rubbing that in Tubbo’s face, didn’t it. Tubbo didn’t go see Tommy, and now that he was trying to make the effort, Tommy didn’t want to see him.

And to top it all off, the thing that had been distracting him from going to Logstedshire in the first place, getting justice for L’Manburg, had just been brought to a screeching halt by Tommy.

He supposed he could always just… let Tommy back in L’Manburg. It’d be easier to keep track of him that way. Easier to keep him out of trouble. Besides, that had always been the plan, anyway. Exile was never meant to be permanent.

The door to Tubbo’s office slammed open. “We found something!” Quackity grinned and held out a compass. “Look what Phil left behind.”

Tubbo’s own compass felt heavy in his jacket pocket. He wondered if Tommy still had his. “Where does that lead?”

“According to the inscription,” Fundy said, “Techno’s house. There’s no telling how far it is, but this should take us straight there.”

Ranboo looked to Tubbo expectantly. “What do you want to do?”

Tubbo wanted to take a second and get his thoughts in order. He wanted to demand that Quackity give up Tommy’s location. He wanted to make an official order to let Tommy back into L’Manburg. He wanted Dream to stop hovering over every goddamn thing he did and he wanted everything to go back to the way it was.

He wanted justice.

He wanted peace.

He wanted revenge for the scars that marred half of his fucking face.

Tommy could wait, Tubbo decided. If he was going to try and interfere, then Tubbo would just have to get this over with as quickly as possible. Before Ranboo or Quackity or anyone else could let it slip to Tommy.

L’Manburg would have Tommy back, Dream be damned… Tubbo just needed to do this first. Tommy seemed safe enough, anyway. Actually safe this time, and not a lie like it had been with Logstedshire. He would be okay for a little while longer.

Then Tommy would be back in L’Manburg. Where he belonged. In the country that they’d both fought and bled and died for. And everything would be back to normal. Or, at the very least, as close to normal as they could get.

But first…

“We head out in three days,” Tubbo said. “Prepare yourselves for a fight, gentlemen. We’re bringing the Blade to L’Manburg.”

“And your decision regarding the trial?” Quackity asked.

Tubbo shrugged. “Technoblade can have his trial.” It’d be funny to watch Technoblade try and defend himself. “I’m still the president, though, aren’t I? Judge, jury, and executioner.” A smile found its way to his face. “And I’m in the mood for a little justice.”

If Technoblade had a problem with it… well, Tubbo could always just blame peer pressure.

Notes:

Tubbo is really going through it right now, lmao. Why did they put a teenager in charge of the country again? Just let the kid go ride a bike or something, damn.

Let's play a game! It's called, "How Many Times Can I Give These Characters Trust Issues Before I Make Then Talk Shit Out?" And the answer is... :D

Trust no one, my guy. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your memory books locked away somewhere very safe.

Chapter 23: An Unwelcome Surprise

Notes:

Hoo boy, I did not expect to get another chapter out that fast. I think I got possessed by a little writing demon.

Anyway, uh... more sword fight! Because it's fun, and I still need the practice writing that shit.

Tommy stared at his communicator for a moment before shoving it in his pocket. He and Tubbo had argued before, but it had never felt like that before. Tubbo had seemed genuinely upset, which… wasn’t new, exactly, Tommy had seen his friend get upset before, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“You good, Tommy?” Puffy called. “We can take a break, if you want.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said quickly, drawing his wooden sword and holding it at the ready. “Tubbo’s just being stupid, that’s all.”

Puffy hummed, falling into her own fighting stance. “Is he being stupid, or are you two just disagreeing?” She launched herself at Tommy, barely giving him enough time to bring his sword up and swat hers away. “Just because you don’t agree with someone, doesn’t mean their decision is a dumb one.”

Tommy brought his sword down, but Puffy deflected it easily enough. “But I’m the one who’s right,” he explained. “Which means Tubbo is wrong and he’s being stupid.”

“Have you tried looking at this from Tubbo’s point of view?” Puffy asked, sidestepping Tommy's sword as he took another swipe at her. “Maybe what he’s doing makes perfect sense to him, even if it doesn’t make sense to you.”

Puffy’s fighting style was annoying. It was direct and hard to defend himself from. She didn’t swing her sword as much as she just stabbed at him with it. She was light on her feet, stepping aside as Tommy swung and thrusting her sword at him while he recovered.

Tommy was used to more heavy-handed swings. To firmly standing his ground while he and his opponent both hacked at each other. Then again, the most sword-fighting he’d seen was from Dream and Technoblade, both of them warriors, in their own right. Dream was a little more agile, but the fighting style was similar, nonetheless. Puffy’s was more like… not like that.

A pirate was the closest thing he could equate it to. She fought like a pirate.

“Everything makes sense to me,” Tommy said, shifting his weight a little to mirror Puffy. It made him feel a little off balance to have his weight in the balls of his feet, but he forced himself to keep steady. He was a wall. He could take the hits. “I’m incredibly smart, you know. Like, a genius, actually.”

“Then why do you think you and Tubbo are disagreeing?” she asked. Her sword was at his chest again, but Tommy sidestepped it. It was easier than trying to bat her sword away with his own. Maybe his fighting style of ‘swing sword at things’ was more of a hindrance than he thought.

Tommy experimentally stabbed his own sword at Puffy, but she brought her sword up to meet his. Too slow, he cursed himself. He jumped back away from her for a moment, bouncing lightly as he tried to get his bearings.

It didn’t feel as off-balance when he did that. If he kept moving, it felt almost natural to stand the way Puffy did, and easier to step away from her when he needed to. He was used to standing steady and taking the hits as they came, deflecting the ones he could and absorbing the ones he couldn’t. It had never occurred to him to move.

“Tubbo and I disagree because he’s not listening to me,” Tommy said. “He’s trying to kill Technoblade! Which, like… I get it, but-” He heaved an aggravated sigh and prepared to go back to sparring. “If he really cared about L’Manburg so much, then he wouldn’t be trying to do that.”

“Why do you think that, Tommy?” Puffy asked. “Because it’s not what you would do?” She caught him off guard with a well-timed swing instead of a thrust, but with Tommy’s newfound mobility, he dodged her easily. She tried for another swing, this time too close for Tommy to dodge.

Without thinking, Tommy shifted his weight back to his heels and let Puffy’s sword collide with his, hardly moving an inch. Maybe the fighting style he’d grown used to was still handy, in its own ways. “I don’t care if it’s not what I would do.” Tommy shoved Puffy’s sword away. “I care that Technoblade would destroy L’Manburg if they actually kill him.”

“Have you explained that to Tubbo?”

“I tried,” Tommy insisted. “He doesn’t listen to me!” Anger blinded him for a moment, and he swung wildly at Puffy. She didn’t even need to step aside, merely shift her weight and let Tommy’s own momentum carry him. “And, sure, I know I fucked up. He gets to exile me for some dumb petty shit because Dream wants him to, but I tell him he’s fucked up and-”

A hand on his back stopped him from regaining his balance, sending him stumbling. He crashed to the ground and his sword skittered away. It made him panic for a moment, scrambling to grab his fallen weapon, before he remembered that this wasn’t a real fight and Puffy wasn’t going to kill him in his moment of weakness.

When he turned over onto his back, though, Puffy was standing over him with a wooden sword pointed at his face. “So you’re not actually concerned for Technoblade,” she concluded. “You’re just worried that Tubbo will get hurt because of his decision to execute him and frustrated that he's not letting you explain that.”

Tommy scoffed. “Yeah, obviously. That’s what I’ve been saying the whole fucking time.” He batted Puffy’s sword away with his hand. “I don’t give a shit about Technoblade. I tried fighting him once in the-” What happens in the pit. “A long time ago. I fought him for Tubbo, and almost fucking died.” He sat up and scowled at the ground. “It’s not that I think Technoblade doesn’t deserve it a little, because he kinda does, it’s just… I care about L’Manburg more.”

Puffy offered Tommy a hand up. “And you think you explained all of that to Tubbo? Properly explained it?”

He glared at the offered hand. “Yes.” Then he recalled how angrily he and Tubbo had just left their call. “Okay, maybe I could have explained it better.” He took Puffy’s hand and let himself get hauled to his feet. Puffy was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked. “But he could try and listen better, too. Instead just being a bitch all the fucking time.”

“How do you know he’s not listening?” Puffy asked. “It sounds like maybe you’re just not hearing each other out.”

Tommy felt a familiar sort of anger flare up inside of him. “Because if Tubbo had ever listened to me, then he wouldn’t have left me with-”

“Guys!” The door to Sam’s base was already down, letting Fran roam freely in or out as she pleased. And now a very disheveled looking Sam stood in its threshold, holding his communicator tightly in his hand, red eyes filled with something close to fear and not unlike anger. “I just got a message. Tommy, we need to get you inside.”

Every nerve in Tommy’s body was suddenly alert. “Why?” he asked slowly. “Who messaged you?”

“Tommy-”

“Who was it, Sam?” Tommy demanded, his voice shaking more than he’d like. “Why do I need to go inside?”

Sam’s gaze flicked to Puffy for a moment before finding Tommy again. “It’s Dream, Tommy,” he said. “He’s coming to the base.”

So many thoughts ran through Tommy’s head at once. How did Dream find him? Why was he coming to Sam’s? Who told Dream where he was? Did Sam tell him? Did Puffy? Quackity? Ranboo? He needed to hide. Run. Something. He needed to do something that wasn’t standing completely frozen.

But a part of him, a very small part of him, way down deep inside, was grateful that Dream had been looking at all. “I- can I not see him?” Tommy asked. “Dream, I mean. I’m… am I allowed to see him?”

Puffy put a gentle hand on his arm. “Let’s go inside, Tommy. Okay? We’re just gonna go inside.”

“No, but-” Tommy struggled to grasp whatever feeling was bubbling in his chest. “He was my friend, and… I mean, he is my friend, and I’m sure he’s worried, he- he wouldn’t be looking for me if he wasn’t worried, right? He’s just- I need to…” 

“Tommy,” Sam prompted, “do you remember why you’re at my house?”

Tommy tried to remember. “Uh… because- because Logstedshire is gone? Dream blew it up because I was-” He shook his head. “And you said-”

“I said that you could come to me if you ever needed somewhere safe,” Sam finished, putting his hands on Tommy’s shoulders and forcing him to look up. “So I need you to trust me right now, okay?” Tommy swallowed hard around the lump of emotions in his throat. “Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

Don’t you trust me Tommy? Dream’s voice crooned at him. I’m just doing what’s best for you. Aren’t we friends?

“Okay,” Tommy muttered. “I trust you, yeah. Of course, I do.” He took a breath. “I don’t think he’d want to see me anyway. Dream, I mean. I don’t - no, actually, he’s probably so fucking mad at me right now.” 

Puffy ushered him inside. “That’s okay, Tommy. Let’s just go to… Sam? Where?”

Sam closed the door behind the, striding across the room and glancing down at his communicator. “The workshop should be safe enough. I can’t imagine Dream would go looking in there for any reason.” He glanced around. “Puffy, could you go find Fran?”

“Of course,” Puffy replied immediately. She gave Tommy’s arm one last reassuring squeeze before walking away and calling for Fran.

Tommy followed behind Sam numbly. “What- what do I do? Just hide?”

“Yes,” Sam answered, opening the door to the workshop, and leading Tommy inside. “That’s all you have to do. Just hide here with Fran until Puffy and I come and get you.”

“But what if Dream does something?” Tommy asked.  “I mean, he’s looking for me, yeah? What if he…” Tommy couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Because Dream could do so much right now. Dream could hurt Sam or Puffy to get to Tommy, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself if that happened. “Maybe I should… I can’t just hide, Sam, I can’t-”

“Yes,” Sam interrupted, “you can.” He moved so that he was in front of Tommy, hovering over him in a way that made Tommy feel helplessly small, but not necessarily in a bad way, he didn’t think. “I know that when it comes to Dream you’ve always taken the full force of whatever damage he causes. I know Wilbur did it when he was alive, Tubbo did it-- accidentally --while you were in exile, but I’m not gonna let it happen, okay?”

Tommy tried hard to focus on what Sam was saying, to really listen to it, and accept it at face value because Sam had never once lied to him. “But… but I-” But he couldn’t just back down. He was Tommy Innit, and he fought Dream. Wilbur had needed him to. Tubbo had needed him to. L’Manburg, everyone, had needed Tommy to fight the masked man who owned the server.

And if Tommy wasn’t fighting, then what was he? If he wasn’t helping run a drug van to spite Dream, if he wasn’t dueling Dream for L’Manburg’s independence, if he wasn’t stopping Dream from giving Wilbur TNT, if he wasn’t protesting the walls that Dream built-

If Tommy wasn’t taking the fall for whatever fucked up thing Dream did, then what was he good for?

“Tommy,” a warm voice jolted him from his thoughts. “Tommy, please, for once, let someone protect you.”

All the air rushed out of Tommy at once. If he were in his right mind, he’d insist that he didn’t need someone to protect him. He was Tommy Innit, the biggest man on the server, and he didn’t need anyone’s protection and he certainly didn’t need their pity.

But right that moment, he was scared.

He was scared, and Dream was coming, and Sam’s words washed over him like a cool breeze to soothe his overheated nerves. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll… I’ll hide.” He straightened a bit, trying to salvage what little pride he had left. “I won’t like it very much, though. And I will complain about it later. Very loudly.”

Relief crossed Sam’s features, his eyes melting with a smile that Tommy couldn’t see. “I know, Tommy.”

“Seriously, Sam. I will,” Tommy pressed. “You know how much I hate pity.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t pity you, then.” Sam guided him to the far corner of the workshop. “You still have that invisibility potion you stole, right?”

Tommy felt the panic start to creep in again. Dream was still coming. He still needed to be on guard. “Yeah, I have it.”

“Good,” Sam said. “You don’t have to take it now, but if you hear anything-”

“I got it, Big Man,” Tommy interrupted. “I’m not a fucking child.” He felt like one, though. He felt like a scared, pathetic child hiding from the monster under the bed. Except the monster was Dream, and he was very real.

Puffy walked into the workshop with Fran in tow. “I found her.” Fran went to Tommy immediately, butting her head against his legs. “Tommy?”

He gave her a nod. “I’m fine, Puffy.” He scratched Fran behind the ears. “I mean, I’m… I’m nervous, but I’m fine. And I don’t like that my stupid fucking head is still all spinny about Dream.”

“We’ll work on it,” Puffy promised. “But one thing at a time, okay?”

“Okay.” One thing at a time. Tommy could manage that. He’d fix his brain later. All he had to do now was hide.

It didn’t feel as cowardly as it should have, hiding from Dream. Maybe it was because Sam and Puffy had both assured him that he was right to be scared.

Sam’s communicator went off again. “Puffy,” he warned. “ETA two minutes.” Tommy’s breath caught in his throat, and Fran whined. “He won’t be here long,” Sam promised, Tommy’s moment of panic having not gone unnoticed. “And we’ll come get you as soon as he’s gone.”

“Right,” Tommy managed. “Just- just go. I’ll be fine.”

But he was overwhelmed again just as soon as they left. Which was frustrating, to say the very least. When had he become so dependent on Sam’s presence? Since when did he need that comfort? Since when did he deserve it?

Tommy sat in the corner of the workshop, absently petting Fran, and trying to think of ways he could hide if Dream did come searching the workshop. He doubted the invisibility potion would be enough, Dream was far too observant for that. Tommy would need to be invisible and hidden if he wanted to avoid confrontation.

Or maybe… maybe if he went to Dream right away, there wouldn’t even need to be a confrontation.

Fran pressed against him, snuffling against his hair and licking his face. Tommy made a half-hearted attempt to push her away. He wanted to get up. He wanted to see what was happening. He wanted to know what Dream was saying about him.

Was Dream trying to convince Sam to give him up? Would he succeed? Tommy didn’t think Sam would actually hand him over, but Dream was very persuasive, and Tommy would deserve it anyway, and-

A crash from somewhere in the house made Tommy squeeze his eyes shut. “Fran,” he whispered. “Get the fuck off me.” She didn’t budge. He didn’t try to make her. “I have to make sure they’re okay, Fran. Get off.” Neither of them moved. “Fine,” he relented, “but only because you insist.”

He wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face in her fur. It was fine, he assured himself. He could do this. He could hide, just for a little bit. He could be abrasive and obnoxious and confident after all this was over, and Sam would let him. A visit from Dream wouldn’t change anything. Tommy was safe here.

Still…

Tommy pulled the wooden sword from sparring out of his inventory and gripped it in the hand that wasn’t petting Fran. It wasn’t much, but he didn’t have any real weapons on him, and he wasn’t brave enough to try and go get one.

So, he sat with Fran and he waited. Sam and Puffy would take care of it, Tommy just had to wait it out. Dream would be gone soon. He didn't have to fix this, because-

Because the adults were taking care of it, Tommy realized. He didn’t need to hand over a disc or be dragged to some horrible isolation because, for the first since Tommy could ever remember, an adult was taking care of the problem. This was something that Tommy didn’t have to sacrifice himself or his belongings to fix.

All he had to do was hide.

Notes:

Therapy? During a sparring match. Well, yeah, it's Tommy. What did you expect? He's gonna talk out his feelings at a *convenient* time? Hell, no.

Speaking of 'convenient time'... Dream sure picked a hell of a time to show up, huh? Someone guessed it in the comment section of the last chapter, but Dream absolutely *acquired* Tommy's location from a rather important little book.

Sam POV next chapter, y'all. How do you think the Dream confrontation is going?

Chapter 24: Hide and Seek

Notes:

Fun fact, this chapter kinda had to get split into two parts. I was initially going to have Dream's visit be shorter and focus on the aftermath with Tommy, but I got a little carried away.

So now this chapter exists, with Dream and all his gaslighting on full display, and Tommy gets to have his breakdown later.

Also, it pains me so much that Puffy, Sam, and Dream all used to be friends. Like. Imagine one your close friends, or the kid that followed you around all the time, just... became *that*. Ugh- hurts my heart, man.

Sam couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment Dream had stopped being his friend, but he wished he could. He wished it was more obvious when it was that Dream had become a person he didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t even that Sam had just woken up one day and Dream was a changed man. It was just a slow enough process that Sam hadn’t seen the pattern until it was too late. There were moments, of course, when Sam had known that Dream was pushing it.

Still, it hadn’t been obvious enough to stop Sam from working on Dream’s… project. He regretted now, seeing what Dream had done to Tommy and Tubbo, and just the server as a whole, really. He didn’t even know what the prison was for--or who it was for--but seeing Tommy terrified and huddled in the corner of his workshop made him wish he could throw Dream himself in there.

A hand on his arm jolted him from his thoughts. “Sam,” Puffy said firmly. “He’ll be okay. Let’s get Dream out of here first, and then we’ll take care of him, okay?”

Sam took a breath. “Right.” He hoped Fran was enough to help the flighty teenager stay put and out of his own head, because god forbid Tommy get paranoid and  walk out of the workshop.

He had about thirty seconds to compose himself before there was a knock on the door of the base. Puffy set her jaw, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Let me talk to Dream,” she told Sam. “He’ll listen to me.”

“You’re sure about that?” Sam only vaguely knew that Puffy and Dream were close. He didn’t know the nature of their relationship, and he never really thought to ask.

“I’m sure,” Puffy answered, an easy smile gracing her features. “He’s my little duckling, after all.” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he didn’t. If Puffy said she could handle talking to Dream, then she probably could. Puffy wasn’t one to overstate her own abilities.

Sam lowered the door, his head spinning with a million different questions about how Dream found his house and why Dream was still looking for Tommy and how did he know to look for Tommy at Sam’s base and who could have possibly told Dream about Tommy and-

“Sam!” Dream greeted warmly, stepping over the door before it even finished lowering. “Good to see you, man. How’ve you been?”

Friend. Right. Sam was Dream’s friend, for the moment, anyway. At least until he could make Dream leave. “Busy,” he replied. “Helping Quackity with a new project of his.”

Dream hummed, his expression completely unreadable. “Well, I figured I’d stop in and say hi. It’s been a while since we talked.” It was hard to tell with the mask, but it looked as though he was scanning the room. “Oh. Hey, Puffy. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

Puffy laughed. “This is a surprise for the both of us, then,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you to drop by, either.” She crossed her arms. “You haven’t been around too often. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me. Or everyone.”

“No, nothing like that.” Dream walked further into the room. “I would never purposefully avoid you, Puffy. You know that. I’ve just been… busy.”

Sam didn’t want to give Dream the satisfaction of asking what he’d been busy with, but if he wanted to keep Tommy’s location a secret, he’d have to play along. “Oh, yeah. I heard you’ve been out in Logstedshire a lot. How’s that going?”

Dream stiffened a bit, hardly noticeable, and easily played off. “Not well,” he admitted. “I was in Logstedshire to, uh… keep an eye on someone.”

“Tommy,” Puffy supplied.

“Right, Tommy,” Dream said. “Speaking of Tommy. He’s, uh… missing.” When that didn’t get an immediate response from Puffy or Sam, he continued with. “Normally I wouldn’t be worried, but I’ve looked all over. I even checked in with Techno, if you can believe it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think he’d go anywhere near Technoblade?”

Dream shrugged. “Resources, mostly. The kid’s a known thief, and I wouldn’t put it past him to try stealing from the Blade.” He shook his head. “And I really thought we’d been getting along…” With a sigh, he straightened and turned to look at Sam. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen him, would you?”

“No,” Sam said immediately. “I haven’t.” A teasing lilt found its way into his voice, “What’s the matter, Dream? Having trouble keeping track of a teenager?”

The laugh Dream let out was a little sharper around the edges than it should have been. “Yeah, well, Tommy’s always been a handful.”

If Sam could have disagreed, he would have. Tommy wasn’t a handful if you gave him the care he so obviously needed instead of trying to kill him. He wasn’t a handful if you actually guided him in the right direction and didn’t let him fight in wars he couldn’t possibly win.

But he couldn’t, so all he said was, “Or maybe you’re just a bad babysitter.” Which, in hindsight, was probably the wrong thing to say.

Dream shifted, standing taller and looking Sam up and down before saying, “Okay, that’s enough. Tell me where he is.”

Puffy frowned. “We already told you, we don’t-”

“Really, Puffy?” Dream asked. “Lying? Of all the people on this server, I never thought you would lie to me.”

Sam moved to stand between Dream and Puffy. “You know, if you came here just to start something, you can always leave.”

“Tell me where Tommy is,” Dream said, “and I’ll go.”

“He isn’t here.”

Dream scoffed. “Really?” He took a step back, an axe appearing in his hand. “So if I look through these chests here, I’m not gonna find anything that belongs to Tommy, huh?”

“No,” Sam said shortly, “you won’t.” And he wouldn’t, because all of Tommy’s meager possessions were either on his person, in his room, or in a chest in the workshop. Dream had to know that Tommy didn’t own much.

That didn’t stop Dream from bringing the axe down anyway. Potions and various materials spilled from the splintered wood and onto the floor, but there was nothing that could be directly linked to Tommy. Just like Sam knew there wouldn’t be. Dream was more likely to find something that belonged to Sapnap in one of those chests.

Puffy pushed past Sam to start picking up the potions, giving Dream an irritated huff. “Dream! What are you doing, you couldn’t have just opened the chest?” She gave him a stern look, not unlike a mother would give a child. “Happy now?”

Dream’s grip tightened around his ax. “Not hardly.” He watched as Puffy quickly set up another chest and discarded the items inside. “So, Tommy’s really not here. You’re sticking to that story.”

“Yes,” Sam answered. “And even if he was here, you think I’d be willing to admit it after you’ve drawn a weapon and destroyed my stuff?”

There was a tense moment of silence before Dream sighed. “You’re right.” The axe disappeared from Dream’s hand, and he actually had the audacity to look sheepish. “I, uh… listen, I’m really sorry. It’s just been a very stressful week.” He gestured vaguely. “I have- I have sources that say Tommy’s been here. Or is still here, and I’m… like I said, I’m just worried about him.”

Puffy hummed. “We’re all worried about him, Dream. I passed through Logstedshire on my way here.” It was direct enough to let Dream know they were aware something had happened, but too vague to be considered a threat.

Dream winced at the statement. “Sorry you had to see that mess.” He had begun to walk around the room, meticulously scanning every corner. Sam didn’t remember giving him permission to do that. “You know, I don’t even know where Tommy got all that TNT, but-”

“You’re saying Tommy blew up Logstedshire,” Sam clarified, making sure to follow Dream movements carefully. He didn’t think there was anything in the main area of the house that belonged to Tommy. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“Yeah?” Dream asked, exiting the room and exploring the next part of the house. “And what have you heard, Sam?”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “I think you know what I’ve heard.”

“Boys,” Puffy said sternly.

Dream put his hands up placatingly. “Alright! Alright. I’m just saying, though.” He poked his head into a room before ducking out of it again. “I mean, I don’t know what you’ve heard, or where you heard it from-”

“I’m sure my sources are just as reliable as yours.” They were dangerously close to the workshop now. Puffy shot him a glance, but said nothing.

If Sam stopped Dream from going in the workshop, that could give away Tommy. But if they let Dream in and Tommy hadn’t hid properly…

It wasn’t a risk Sam wanted to take, but it was starting to look like he had no choice.

“Can I ask what those sources are?” Dream asked.

“Can we ask about yours?” Puffy retorted.

Dream didn’t answer her, instead turning to the door of the workshop. “What’s this?”

Damnit, damnit, damnit- “My workshop,” Sam answered curtly. “I don’t remember giving you permission to snoop through my house, Dream. Unless you’re interested in learning some redstone tricks, there’s not much in there for you.”

“Never hurts to be safe,” Dream opened the door and stepped into the workshop, “because I’m still not entirely sure you’re telling the truth about Tommy not being… here?” Dream paused. “Your dog’s in the workshop.”

Sam followed Dream into the workshop, Puffy right behind him. He pretended not to hear her sigh of relief when Tommy was nowhere in sight. “Huh,” he said, hoping his tone sounded more amused than panicked, “I was wondering where she went.”

“Lose her often?” Dream asked curiously.

“No,” Sam admitted. “But I’ve had a bit of a hectic day. In and out of the workshop, helping Quackity with a side-project.”

Dream considered that for a moment. “Okay, sure.” He looked to Fran. “You know, I think Fran has got to be the oldest pet on the server. Sapnap’s little pet war got rid of most of them.” He crouched and held a hand out to Fran. “C’mere, Fran! You remember me, right?”

Fran, much to Sam’s delight, growled in response. He recalled Tommy asking if Fran had a habit of biting people, and the answer had been ‘no’ at the time, but Sam wouldn’t be angry if that no-biting streak ended with Dream.

“Seems awfully protective of that wooden sword,” Dream mused as he stood. “Don’t tell me that’s yours, Sam.” It wasn’t. It was Tommy’s. He must have discarded it when he hid.

“It’s mine, actually,” Puffy said smoothly. “I’ve been looking to get a bit of sparring practice. Can never be too prepared.”

Dream watched Fran for another long moment. “I don’t know why,” he said finally, “but I know you’re hiding Tommy.” Before Sam or Puffy could protest, Dream continued with, “I’m not… like, I’m not mad about it. You guys clearly just don’t know Tommy.”

Puffy straightened a bit. “To be fair, Dream, we could argue that you don’t know Tommy.”

“I do know Tommy,” Dream insisted. “I know him well enough to know he’s just gonna get himself into more trouble than he’s worth.”

“Well, if he’s managed to stay hidden from you for this long, I imagine he’s gotten help,” Sam said. “Sounds like someone thinks he is worth the trouble.”

“Or maybe,” Puffy added, “that he’s no trouble at all. Because he’s a child.”

Dream tilted his head. “You’re not doing a good job of hiding the fact that you’re the ones helping him.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And I don’t blame you, okay? I’m not even mad.” Sam didn’t think Dream had the right to be mad. He didn’t get to be mad that Tommy sought out safety. “I just don’t think you guys know what you’re doing.”

Sam was thankful that Dream had his back turned to Fran and the corner of the workshop, because there was a box that had just moved a fraction of an inch. He needed to get Dream to shut up. Fran seemed to agree, her lips curling into a snarl.

“Tommy- I don’t know what he’s told you about Logstedshire, but you need to know that he’s…” Dream hesitated. “I mean, I hate to put it bluntly, but the kid’s a liar. And almost… manipulative? God, that sounds horrible to say, I don’t- I don’t even think he does it on purpose, but…” He sighed. “Look, I really was just trying to help him, okay?”

If Sam were anyone else, Dream’s tactics might have worked. If he were Tubbo, an easily influenced teenager, this might have worked. If he were someone that didn’t know Tommy well, like Technoblade or Phil, he might believe that Tommy was capable of some kind of subconscious manipulation.

But he wasn’t.

Because he’d found Tommy burned and bloodied outside his house, wet and shivering from jumping off a tower and, thankfully, into water. And, for all Sam knew, Tommy’s survival was merely chance, which was a horrifying thought that he’d only forced himself to consider once or twice as he laid awake at night, trying to think of ways to heal the brokenness in Tommy’s gray eyes.

Yes, Tommy lied. Tommy lied and he stole, he was loud and sometimes he was too abrasive for his own good, but never, not once, did Sam believe he’d ever been manipulated by the abused teenager he’d let into his home.

He’d chosen to help Tommy. A decision he wished more people would have made when they had the chance.

“And I think I know how to get through to him,” Dream jolted Sam from his thoughts. “I have- I visited Skeppy recently, and I got…” Dream paused, like he was trying to figure out how to word his next statement. “I have one of Tommy’s discs.”

The box moved again.

Puffy’s eyes widened. “You- why do you have Tommy’s disc? Who has the other one?”

“Tubbo has it,” Dream said, avoiding the first half of the question entirely. “I would have thought he’d give it to Tommy by now, but… well, Tubbo never did come see him. He’s been too busy playing Cops and Robbers with Quackity, trying to catch Technoblade.”

“But why do you have one?” Puffy asked again. “Because it sounds like you’re going to manipulate him into coming with you.”

Dream’s gaze locked on her--or Sam assumed it did--and, in an unnervingly even tone, said, “I don’t think you should be accusing me of things you know nothing about.”

“I don’t think you should be accusing me of knowing less than I do,” Puffy replied, her voice just as even.

Sam appreciated Puffy’s presence, quietly commanding, and more confident than he could ever hope to be. He felt like he was drowning in his own panic, trying to force his gaze to stay on Dream instead of drifting back to Fran and the ‘wooden sword’ she was guarding. He willed Tommy to hang on just a little while longer, and stop shifting around in the box.

“Are you two done?” Sam cut through the tense silence. “I do still have work to do, if you don’t mind.”

Dream heaved a frustrated sigh. “Fine,” he snapped. “Fine. Don’t tell me where you’re hiding him.” He brushed past Sam to the door. “You know where to find me when he gets to be more than you can handle.”

“Tommy doesn’t need to be handled,” Sam hissed before he could stop himself.

If Dream heard him, it wasn’t acknowledged. Puffy patted Sam on the arm. “I’ll see him out.” She nodded to the corner of the workshop. “Help him,” she said quieter. “I’ll be back soon.”

Sam waited for Dream and Puffy’s voices to fade away, then immediately shut the door and walked to the corner of the workshop. For Tommy’s sake, he tried to relax his expression, tamp down the unbelievable amounts of anger so that he didn’t unintentionally scare Tommy.

But no matter how well he hid it, he could still feel the heat of every emotion settling deep in his chest, like dying embers that wouldn’t be too difficult to relight with some prodding here and there. And part of him hoped that Dream did start prodding. He hoped that Dream would provoke him, just a little bit.

It’d give Sam a wonderful excuse to break that smiling mask of Dream's in half.

Notes:

Tommy, in his box: It's a mental breakdown! *kazoo noise*

Who's ready for trauma boy to come out of the box, huh? Let's get that kid the fuck out of there, let him breathe a little. He may or may not have to deal with more shit when he comes out, but... eh.

Also, show of hands, who here remembers Mexican Dream? Mm-hm... okay, cool. Don't worry, it's not super important, just wanted see how many people I'm gonna make really sad in the next chapter.

Chapter 25: Past and Present

Notes:

Me: Who here remembers Mexican Dream?
Comments: Oh, my god. If you do anything to Mexican Dream-
Me: Dream done killed him already, tf you think I'm gonna do? Kill him again?

In all seriousness, this chapter is more of a mini-deep dive into Tommy's character than it is anything else. I really should go back to writing actual plot at some point, huh?

Tommy hated being claustrophobic. It was a struggle to keep his breathing quiet when it felt like he was going to be crushed by walls that weren’t really moving, but he had to. Because Dream was standing maybe five feet away from his hiding spot and Sam and Puffy were not doing a good job of disguising the fact that he was there.

He’d only caught bits and pieces of the conversation, his stomach twisting as Dream called him a liar, which was true, and a manipulator, which was such a blatant lie, that…

But was it?

Dream said that Tommy didn’t mean to manipulate, but- but how did someone do that accidentally? Had he been manipulating Sam into helping him without realizing it? He didn’t think so, but… Dream wouldn’t lie.

Yes, he would. Yes, he did. Dream had lied.

He probably didn’t even have Tommy’s disc. Right? Right.

That would be something Dream might do, wouldn’t it? Say he had the disc just to trick Tommy into coming with him? He would put it past the masked man to do something so underhanded, but it- it didn’t seem like he was lying when he said it.

And if Dream had been telling the truth about the disc, then what else did he say that was true? Maybe Tommy was secretly taking advantage of Sam’s kindness. Manipulating him and Puffy. Not even Wilbur was a good enough manipulator to have done it by accident .

Was he worse than Wilbur, to have manipulation so engraved into him that it came naturally?

No, Tommy decided, he couldn’t be. He couldn’t be worse than Wilbur.

He could prove it! He’d prove it. He’d prove to Sam that he wasn’t manipulating anything. He wasn’t abusing Sam’s kindness, and he could prove it. He needed to. He could-

Tommy could help Sam. With what, he didn’t know, but he was certain that would fix it. If they were working together, like, a mutual goal or something, then Tommy couldn’t be accused of using him.

Sam couldn’t just- he couldn’t be kind to Tommy for no reason. Tommy was an idiot for not realizing it sooner, and the thought of what could happen to Sam made his stomach twist into little sailor’s knots. After all, the last person who’d shown him any sort of kindness was…

It was-

“Tommy?” a soft voice called. “Tommy, he’s gone.”

He could hear Fran whining and pawing at the box anxiously, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He needed to compose himself first. He needed- he needed to be out of the box, but he needed to be calm, because if Sam saw him like this, there would no doubt be that sickeningly sweet kindness that Tommy had so selfishly grown used to.

Tommy didn’t deserve that kind of comfort. He didn’t. The last time someone had tried, they had paid for it. Dream had… he’d- and, god, Tommy had felt so sick watching it happen. And he did remember watching it happen, despite the fact that the memory seemed to slip away from him every time he tried to grasp it.

His brain was so determined to push to the back of his thoughts, but he needed to remember it. He needed to remember that kindness came with consequences, and that Dream was far worse than anyone would ever believe.

The wooden wall on Tommy’s right opened, and he flinched at the light that spilled through. “Tommy,” Sam said quietly. “Dream’s gone. It’s safe to come out, okay?”

Tommy swallowed back his fear and deflected it the best way he knew how. Angrily. “Fuck off.” He scrambled to leave the suffocating box, nearly collapsing on the ground. It was disorienting to move when he couldn’t see his own limbs. “Fuck you, Sam. Dream knows I’m here.”

“I know, Tommy,” Sam said patiently. “But just because he knows you’re here, doesn’t mean that he’s going to take you away. I won’t let that happen.” He passed Tommy a bottle of milk. “Here. For the invisibility.”

There it was again. That godforsaken kindness. “What do you want out of this?” Tommy demanded, snatching the bottle and downing it. He was tired of being invisible. He was tired. “What do you- what are you doing this for? What the fuck do you want?”

“Nothing,” Sam told him.

“No,” Tommy snapped. “You have to fucking want something. You can’t- you can’t just want to help me.” Tommy wouldn’t be able to live with himself if this kindness got Sam killed. He barely lived with himself as it was. “I can just- what do you want from me? I can- I could-”

Sam’s eyes crinkled in a reassuring smile. “Tommy, you don’t need to do anything-”

“Yes, I do,” Tommy interrupted. “You don’t- you don’t understand, Sam, because you’re a fucking idiot, but that- that’s okay, because I’m awesome and very intelligent, and I know how to fix it.”

“Tommy-”

“If we’re, like, business partners, right? Or something like that,” Tommy rambled, “then Dream would- he’ll be less mad. And that’s good! That’s good, Sam. It would be a very good thing, actually, if Dream didn’t think that we were friends.”

And Sam almost looked hurt. “Do you… not want to be friends, Tommy?”

Tommy pulled at his hair anxiously. “I do, Sam. You have no idea how badly I want to be friends, but you don’t know what Dream will do to you.” He could feel himself spiraling. Memories flooding his thoughts before he could stop them. “But- but I know what he’ll do, Sam. You can’t be my friend, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Because he killed the last person who tried!” Tommy exclaimed. “He murdered Mexican Dream!”

He remembered. He remembered and he wished that he didn’t, but Mexican Dream had been one of very few--and maybe the last, if Tommy remembered right--visitors that he had in Logstedshire. We’ll make this place like home, he’d said after Tommy offered to make him a place in Logstedshire.

Tommy had been stupid to believe him. Naive and stupid.

He’d laughed when MD ran Dream out of Logstedshire. It wasn’t… it wasn’t for Tommy, exactly, but it was nice to see there was another person that disliked Dream, There you go, man. Fuck out of here, man! Fuck out of here!

MD had been someone who didn’t take Dream’s shit lying down. It was funny, honestly, Tommy could admit that he’d laughed harder than he had in ages when he was with Mexican Dream.

Even when Dream tried to confront him, he’d held his ground. And Dream was- he was intimidating, Tommy knew, but MD had leveled Dream with a deadpan stare before turning to Tommy with a wicked grin. He's mugging me, man. He thinks I'm gonna allow this, man? He's in the wrong barrio, man.

Tommy still didn’t know what a barrio was, but he didn’t care. Because all he heard was that Dream wasn’t getting away with something. Someone was standing up to Dream, telling him that he couldn’t do something. He wasn’t allowed. MD had Tommy’s respect for that.

And when they’d finished building Mexican Dream’s house, with the help of his ridiculously strong girlfriend, Mamacita, they had both been there when he was hunched over pictures of Tubbo. He had been fighting back tears, because Big Man Tommy Innit did not cry, but they comforted him all the same.

There had been music and laughter and it was… nice. Logstedshire had felt more like a home in those few hours than it had in the months that Tommy had been there alone with Dream.

He wasn’t even sure when it started going wrong… maybe it was MD protecting Tommy and Mamacita from the zombie attack that cost him his first canon death.

It hadn’t… it hadn’t registered as a bad thing, at first, because- well, MD still had two of his canon lives. He’d be okay, Tommy had been so certain that he’d be okay. Mamacita was gone before MD had come back, but they’d see each other again. After all, MD was living in Logstedshire now.

MD had called the zombie attack a drive-by. He joked about it, like he wanted Tommy to laugh, so Tommy did. It was pretty funny, if he detached himself from it a little.

Then Dream had returned. He’d come back irritated and disinterested in anything that Tommy had to say. And he had seemed completely indifferent to MD’s presence.

Until he wasn’t.

Until he was destroying MD’s pictures.

Until they were yelling and attacking each other and-

And, suddenly, Mexican Dream was gone again, having taken an arrow trying to protect the images of his friends.

Tommy didn’t… it was still kind of funny, if he detached himself from it. If Tommy didn’t think too hard about MD having one life left because he’d decided to stay in Logstedshire with him, then maybe he could still laugh about it. It was better to laugh than to… anything else.

Mexican Dream hadn’t even been looking for Logstedshire. He’d been trying to go somewhere else. This ain’t the path to Tijuana, man. But he’d stayed anyway. Tommy still didn’t know why he did. Maybe he’d manipulated Mexican Dream like he’d been manipulating Sam.

MD had made a gravestone for the pictures. Like he was grieving the actual people, and not a two-dimensional image of them. Tommy had vaguely wondered at the time if he’d grieve his pictures of Tubbo like that.

Yes, he had decided. If they were the last thing he had of Tubbo, he would absolutely grieve them.

It wasn’t long before Tommy was making a gravestone, too. Not for an image, or a memory, but something real. Someone real. Someone who had tried to be Tommy’s friend. Someone who was kind to him for no reason other than he just was.

MD’s armor had failed him. Enchanted netherite, and it had still been too weak to stop Dream.

It was kind of funny. If Tommy detached himself from it. It was…

A mistake, is what it had been. A stupid, selfish mistake. One that he couldn’t afford to make again.

“Tommy!” a voice ripped him from his thoughts. He blinked, trying to remember where he was. Logstedshire? No. He was on the floor somewhere, his tent in Logstedshire didn’t have a floor. It was hard to tell what anything was when his vision was blurring and his ears were ringing, and-

Gentle hands slipped into his, and he gripped them reflexively. Normally he’d be grasping, clawing at his arms to keep himself in the present, but this- this was nicer, he thought. It hurt less.

“Tommy, I’m gonna count, okay? I need you to breathe with me,” the voice continued to soothe him. “It’ll help you calm down faster, I promise. In, four seconds. Hold, seven seconds. Out, eight seconds. I’m gonna start, just follow me whenever you can."

Calm down? He liked that idea. He wanted to be calm. He’d like to be calm now, because his throat was constricted, and his lungs weren’t filling up properly. He could barely draw breath for one second, much less four, but he was too afraid of disappointing the strange voice that he desperately tried to comply.

“Slow,” a different voice encouraged. Tommy choked on oxygen, his chest heaved with the effort it took to breathe and, god, did it hurt. “Slow, Tommy,” the second voice said again. “There’s no rush. You’re okay.”

The first voice was still counting, but the second continued to murmur encouragement. It was warm, laced with familiarity and comfort, and Tommy knew that he didn’t deserve either, but he still wanted it. He desperately, selfishly wanted it.

He pulled his hands away from the voice that was counting, ignoring the distinctly fuzzy presence to his left, and pressed himself into the comforting warmth. For a terrifying moment of silence, Tommy thought he’d be pushed away. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

But silence was swiftly filled with more reassurances and a quiet, “Take deep breaths so Tommy can follow you. In, four seconds…” Puffy, he realized.

Tommy closed his eyes. Puffy and Sam. This was Sam. “I’m sorry,” he tried. Because he was being entirely too clingy, and he knew it. Especially since he’d just been trying to reestablish their relationship as something ‘less than friends’. “I’m sorry, Sam, I just- I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay,” Sam told him. “Just breathe.”

“But-”

“Breathe,” Sam repeated gently. “I’m not going anywhere.” And somehow, that was what reassured him. Not that he hadn’t been found, not that Dream was gone, just that Sam wouldn’t leave him.

Tommy knew he’d curse himself later for the stupid amount of vulnerability he was putting on display, but this felt safe. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt safe.

So, despite how much he knew he’d hate himself for it later, Tommy leaned into Sam and made another attempt at following Puffy’s counting. Part of Tommy still expected Sam to pull away, but the steady rise and fall of his chest never wavered. Sam’s arms wrapped around him and it was somehow more overwhelming than the box, but far less suffocating.

As Tommy’s breathing finally-- finally --slowed, the knot in his chest unraveling into something less painful, his eyes grew heavier. Maybe it was the stress from Dream’s visit, maybe it was the panic from being in the box, or maybe it was just the awful combination of both.

Whatever the case, he was tired. Tired and too close to crying for comfort, unshed tears weighing heavily behind his closed eyes. It felt weak of him to be falling asleep here, quite literally wrapped in Sam’s embrace, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He’d care later, he decided. He’d be classic, angry, confrontational Tommy later. When he was feeling awake and confident again, he’d tell Sam to fuck off, but for now he thought maybe the hybrids comforting him deserved an explanation. A good, proper explanation as to why he was breaking down and on the verge of tears (but never crying, because Tommy Innit did not cry.)

But all his post-terror, sleep-addled brain could think to say was, “I miss him.” A pathetic attempt at excusing his outburst, but it was all he could manage.

“I know,” Sam said, his voice still soft around the edges and mindful of all of Tommy’s weakness. “I’m so sorry.”

Which was weird of him to say… Sam didn’t have anything to apologize for, was the last thing Tommy thought before sleep dragged him under, losing consciousness to the sound of Puffy humming.

Notes:

*pokes head into room* Can I come into the out now?

Okay, full disclosure, this chapter was, like... kind of a personal challenge for myself? I've seen people use Mexican Dream for angst before, but it's always diverged from canon just a bit to make it a little more ✨spicy✨. Which! I have nothing against! Bring on that angst, pogchamp.

But I wanted to see if I could take mainly just canon events, and make them as realistically angsty as I could. So pretty much everything in Tommy's sort-of-flashback can be found on Mexican Dream's page of the DreamTeam Wiki, and it was a delight to read through.

Chapter 26: Checkmate

Notes:

I both loved and hated writing this chapter so much. Complex characters are my shit, but c!Dream... I despise him. I like c!Dream as a character, but c!Dream as a person? I could roll that bitch down Niagra Falls in a barrel and feel no remorse.

Oh, yeah. Homeless Teletubby POV chapter. Enjoy! Or don't. I can't tell you how to live your life.

Dream wasn't usually one to be fazed by much, but Puffy outright lying to him was definitely not a chess piece he’d thought to put on the board. He wasn’t even sure how Tommy did it, or how to get it off the playing field, but Puffy was officially on Tommy’s side.

Puffy never really had a role to play in Dream’s plans, admittedly, but just because he didn’t have her on his side that didn’t mean he wanted her on Tommy’s.

And Sam! Sam, who he’d commissioned for the prison, talked with extensively about his plans to bring the server together, had somehow been swayed by Tommy. By Tommy fucking Innit, some kid that he barely even knew. Sam was one of the original eight members of the server, and somehow Tommy, Tommy, had managed to turn him against Dream.

He didn’t understand. Sam had seemed like such a definitive ally. He’d felt secure in having Sam and the prison as pieces on his side of the board, but Tommy had stolen that away.

Fine, then. If Tommy was going to steal pivotal pieces from Dream, then maybe he’d have to take one of Tommy’s. Just to make it even, of course. Nothing personal, except that it was. Luckily, the easiest of Tommy pieces to get on his side was also the most important.

Tubbo.

Not that Tubbo was particularly naive or gullible, because he definitely wasn’t. But the strings that tied him to Tommy were so frayed that Dream figured they’d snap if he pulled them hard enough. It’d taken a while to get them split up, and Dream was going to make damn sure he used that to his advantage.

Of course, there were still a few obstacles. Namely that Ranboo character, but he was already well on his way to getting the enderman hybrid under control. That book had been most helpful, and not just for finding Tommy. Not important at the moment, though.

Tubbo, thankfully, wasn't too hard to find. He was exactly where he’d been since Tommy had been exiled. His office.

Dream couldn’t be bothered to knock. It gave the illusion that he had something important to talk about, but he was really just impatient. “Tubbo!”

The goat hybrid jumped, his head snapping up to stare at Dream with wide eyes. “Who- Dream?” Then his eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Hostile, suspicious, it was pretty clear that Tubbo had spoken to Tommy recently. Less than ideal, but not impossible to work with. “I came to talk about Tommy.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you have.” He stood from his desk and walked to stand in front of it. “Unfortunately, I’m a little busy at the moment, and I don’t have time for… this.” He gestured vaguely at the door. “You found your way in, you can find your way out.”

On edge, not quite nervous, but definitely angry. Dream could redirect that anger a little bit. “I really don’t think this can wait, Tubbo. Tommy left Logstedshire, and-”

“I’m aware.”

“No,” Dream said quickly. “Tubbo, I thought I’d really been making progress with Tommy in Logstedshire, but he’s… I don’t know why he’d run off like that. I think something might be wrong.”

Tubbo fixed Dream with an even stare. “From what I hear, it had a lot to do with you.” He leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. “And, for the record, I never asked you to make progress with Tommy. The only conditions were that Tommy couldn’t come back to L’Manburg, not that he needed you to stay with him.”

Finally, a weak point. “Well, someone had to visit him and I’m the only one who did,” he said sharply. Then he paused, giving Tubbo just enough time to let the jab set in before, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t- that was a bit uncalled for.”

“It was,” Tubbo agreed, but his expression was pleasantly unnerved, which put Dream in a much better position. “Especially since, according to sources, you were actively preventing visitors.”

So, Tommy had managed to figure that out… or someone had figured it out for him. Sam, maybe. Didn’t matter. Whatever the case, Tommy had figured it out, and he’d told Tubbo. “Did you hear that from Tommy?”

“Heard that from Ranboo,” Tubbo corrected. “He tried visiting. You weren’t allowing visitors.”

“Tommy didn’t want any-”

“I heard from Tommy,” Tubbo continued over him, which was… annoying, “that he’d tried to throw a party. Somehow, his invitations all magically disappeared.” Tubbo cocked his head. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Dream took a breath. Tubbo knew too much. It was time to change tactics. “Okay, I realize how that sounds,” he admitted. “The party wasn’t… it was really just to boost Tommy’s spirits a little. I don’t know why Ghostbur didn’t deliver the invitations, but-”

“Ghostbur?” Tubbo interrupted. “Tommy put Ghostbur in charge of the invitations?”

An opening. “Yeah, well- yeah.” Dream shrugged uselessly. “I offered to take the invitations myself, but Tommy insisted that Ghostbur take them. And, well… we both know Ghostbur’s forgetful.”

Tubbo frowned. “So… you weren’t keeping people away, then? Is that what you’re saying? Because that would be insinuating that Ranboo, and a few others, are lying. And, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d trust Ranboo and Fundy over you any day.”

Ranboo and Fundy, not Quackity. He filed that away for later. “I did for a little bit, yeah, but Tommy said he didn’t want anyone around! I figured that probably wasn’t- I knew you’d want to come see him eventually, so we talked about a party…” He trailed off. “I thought it would help. Maybe trusting Ghostbur with the invitations wasn’t the best move on my part.”

“No, maybe not.” Tubbo pushed himself away from the desk. “And that still doesn’t answer the several other questions that I have.”

Of course. Tubbo, unlike Tommy, wasn’t so easily fooled by a well-placed lie. Tubbo was harder to make doubt himself, but when he did… well, it was effective. After all, the last time he’d gotten Tubbo to doubt himself, he’d gotten Tommy secured in Logstedshire.

Dream lifted his hands placatingly. “Ask away. I’m an open book.”

Tubbo snorted. “Sure.” He thought for a moment. “There’s a tower in Logstedshire. Tommy built it, I know he did. What was it for?”

“Um…” Dream tilted his head. “I’m… not sure? I mean, he kinda builds those a lot, doesn’t he? It’s, like, a trademark thing for him. I’m not sure what it was for.” Which was a lie, of course. He did know. The knowledge that Tommy would have rather died than have Dream’s company was… there was a confusing mix of emotions tied to it, for sure.

It was definitely mostly anger, though. It would have been difficult to unite the server if Tommy had killed himself under Dream’s care. Nobody would ever follow him, which would make controlling them so much harder than it needed to be. Even in death, Tommy Innit would have found a way to ruin his plans.

“And you don’t think it had anything to do with Logstedshire being destroyed?” Tubbo asked. “Because that tower was clearly built after the area was blown up.”

Dream sometimes forgot that Tubbo knew his way around explosives. Pity that he didn’t know how to avoid them. “I hadn’t thought about it too hard,” Dream said slowly. “I, uh… I saw that Logstedshire was destroyed and Tommy wasn’t around and panicked.”

Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

He didn’t. When it came down to it, between Tommy and Tubbo, the hybrid was clearly the smarter of the two. Not that Tommy was stupid, necessarily, trying to break him wouldn’t be any fun or of any use if he was.

“No,” Dream said, trying for a bewildered tone. “I don’t-”

“You’re honestly trying to make me believe that Tommy blew up Logstedshire?” Tubbo scoffed. “Come on. Seriously?”

Little harder than he thought. That was fine. He had expected this. “Is that really so hard to believe? After he burned down George’s house?” Tubbo’s gaze flickered. “You don’t think he’d be spiteful enough to blow up some land on an island in the plains? After you told him not to be the next Wilbur?”

Tubbo stiffened. “You don’t… no, surely not.” He shook himself. “No, Tommy told me that you weren’t- you hurt him, somehow, in exile. Tommy wouldn’t lie about that.”

Tommy sure did love making things difficult, didn’t he? “About- about the party? I tried to help him with that,” Dream protested.

“No,” Tubbo snapped. “Not that.”

“Then what?” Dream asked. “What did he say happened? What did I do?”

Hesitance found its way back into Tubbo’s eyes. “Nothing too specific,” he said. “But he said he wasn't in a good place mentally, and you were the cause.”

“He couldn’t even tell you what I did?”

The surprise in Dream’s voice was genuine. Tommy and his absolute inability to shut his mouth had Dream convinced that he’d spilled everything. That he’d have to finesse his way into getting Tubbo on his side. But all Tommy had said was ‘he wasn’t in a good place mentally’?

“I know he was kind of lonely when I wasn’t around,” Dream admitted. “I knew he wasn’t… great, but-” He sighed, “No, he might actually have a good reason to be mad at me. I should have visited more or- or something.”

Tubbo’s brow furrowed. “You… I don’t understand. None of that explains why I should believe you didn’t blow up Logstedshire. Tommy said he’s hiding from you. Tommy doesn’t hide.” And damn Tubbo for being so persistent. “I don’t know what you did, but I know you’re not as innocent in this as you want me to believe.”

“You’re free to believe whatever you want.” Dream needed a different opening. “And I know he’s hiding from me, but I already know exactly where he is.” If Tubbo was going to be stubborn about Logstedshire, then he’d need to find a different way to get in the teenager’s thoughts. “I even offered to give him one of his discs back if he would come back with me, but-”

“You know where Tommy is?” Tubbo asked suddenly.

Oh.

Okay.

That could work.

“Yeah,” Dream said slowly. “He’s with Sam, out near the Badlands.” Tubbo’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Did you… not know?”

“No,” Tubbo said shortly. “He never told me.” He glared at the floor for a moment before dragging his gaze back up to Dream’s mask. “You said you had one of his discs?”

Dream nodded. “I got Cat a while ago. Got it from Skeppy.” And what a wonderful coincidence it was that Tubbo had Mellohi. “Like I said, I did try to give it to him. I mean, maybe he’s just pissed that I couldn’t give him both, you know how he is.”

Tubbo hummed, eyeing the disc warily. “Yeah, I know.” He drummed his fingers against the desk. “You said you’d give it to him if he came with you. Where exactly would you bring him? Logstedshire?”

Oh, Tubbo had made this too fucking easy now. “Oh… I hadn’t really thought that through. I mean, where would you suggest putting him? With Logstedshire gone.”

“Nowhere,” Tubbo said. “Nowhere with you, anyway.” He straightened. “Actually, with all due respect, I think I’d like Tommy back in L’Manburg.”

Bingo.

“Tubbo,” Dream sighed, “we talked about this. Tommy is a liability to your country.”

“Our country,” Tubbo corrected. “Tommy built this place with Wilbur, and I can’t believe you ever made me forget that.”

Dream didn’t answer for a moment, giving the illusion that he was truly thinking hard about his next statement. “You want him back in L’Manburg.”

“I think he’s sufficiently paid for the crime of burning a few blocks off George’s house, yes,” Tubbo said. “He’s a prick sometimes, but he didn’t deserve… whatever you did to him in exile. And I know you did something.”

“Okay,” Dream said agreeably. “How about this, then.” He pulled the music disc out of his inventory. “You want Tommy back in L’Manburg? I want both Cat and Mellohi.”

Tubbo froze. “You said you’d give Cat back to Tommy.”

“If he came with me,” Dream reminded. “The agreement was: Tommy stays out of L’Manburg, and I don’t put up any walls.” He held the disc up. “But if he’s gonna go back with you, weasel out of the punishment that we both agreed upon,” Tubbo flinched at that, “then I expect something else to satisfy the terms of our agreement.”

It would work. Dream knew before he’d even finished speaking that it would work, because if there was one thing that he could always, always rely on, it was that Tubbo would sacrifice the important things to do what he thought was right. It was a valuable skill he’d learned from Wilbur.

Valuable to Dream, anyway, considering Tommy was usually the thing that got sacrificed. His lives, his freedom, his home, his discs. Tubbo, at the very least, was better than Wilbur in that he never actually wanted Tommy hurt.

Which made him vulnerable in a way that Wilbur hadn’t been. Wilbur used Tommy, but Tubbo needed him. They needed each other. It was a bond that would probably end up getting one of them killed someday, and Dream was glad he didn’t have those kinds of ties anymore. They caused more trouble than they were worth.

“Have you got an enderchest?” Tubbo asked finally.

Dream smiled under his mask. “Of course.” He opened up his inventory, pulling out the chest and setting it on the ground. “Go ahead.”

Tubbo opened the small black chest, and pulled out Mellohi. He stared at it for a moment, his expression conflicting. “If I give you this,” he said, “you’ll let Tommy back in L’Manburg.”

“Yep,” Dream confirmed. “No strings attached. Tommy gets to come back.” It wouldn’t matter, though. Dream would have Tommy completely under his thumb with both discs in his possession. Tommy could return to L’Manburg, Dream would allow it, but so long as Tommy and Dream were players and the discs were still on the table, the game was never really done.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to let Tubbo have a little false hope.

“Fine.” Tubbo held out the disc for Dream to take. “If I find out that you’ve hurt Tommy in any way after this, I will break your mask in half and stab you with the pieces.”

Well… that was certainly something. “Don’t worry,” Dream said, trying to contain his giddy excitement at finally having both discs in his possession again. “I promise, whatever trouble Tommy gets himself into, it’ll be of his own doing.”

After all, that’s what Tommy was good at. Getting himself into trouble. It wouldn’t be long before he pissed off someone else on the server, and Dream could step right back in again to correct it.

Maybe Dream had overestimated Tubbo a bit. The kid was smart, no doubt about it, but what good was intelligence if you were an absolute idiot?

Whatever. Tubbo had served his purpose well enough. Dream had been expecting to get Tubbo to distrust Tommy, but he was walking away with so much more than that. Tubbo really didn’t understand the value of these discs. He probably could have had Tommy completely subdued just by giving Mellohi back, but he’d given that power to Dream.

Dream put both of the discs in his inventory. “Alright. Tommy is allowed back in L’Manburg.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. President.”

Tubbo scowled. “I can’t say the same.” Relief crossed his features before he turned away. “I have matters to attend to at the moment, but rest assured that Tommy will have his citizenship reinstated as soon as it’s been dealt with.”

Technoblade’s trial… that memory book of Ranboo’s really was good for something. He was glad he’d decided to shadow Technoblade into L’Manburg the day they’d met outside Logstedshire. The knowledge that Ranboo had let Techno and Phil escape could create another rift in one of Tubbo’s relationships.

Another weakness to exploit. Another useless bond to break.

“Which means you no longer have any say over where Tommy stays until then.” Tubbo sat back down at his desk. “Not that you should have had any say in the first place.”

Dream nodded. “Of course.”

“So you will leave him alone,” Tubbo emphasized.

Well, Dream couldn’t exactly agree to that. “I’ll leave you to your business,” he said instead. “Hopefully this time Tommy will refrain from committing any more acts of minor terrorism.”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Tubbo was quick to defend. “But… yeah. Let’s hope he tones it down with the theft and arson.” He, once again,gestured to the door. “If that’s all?”

“I’ve got all I need,” Dream offered a small wave before leaving. “I’ll see you around, Tubbo.” He didn’t miss the quiet litany of curses from Tubbo as he shut the door behind him, but he didn’t care.

His walk along the Prime Path was an uneventful one, though he did spot Quackity glaring at him from a distance. A piece on the board that he could deal with at a later date, he supposed. Dream smiled to himself, ignoring the duck hybrid to check his inventory one last time. Just to make sure he’d actually managed to secure both discs before heading out of L’Manburg.

Dream couldn’t wait to see the look on Tommy’s face when he broke the news. It’d probably look a bit like betrayal, hearing that Tubbo had just handed over his most prized possessions. The one thing he’d wanted to get back after losing everything.

If things went the way he thought they would, Tommy might never trust Tubbo again… but, of course, he’d always have his good friend Dream to fall back on.

Notes:

I love that I wrote the last chapter and then, like, *the next day* Sapnap has a fucking lore stream with Ghost Mexican Dream. When I tell you I *screamed*.

Anyhoo, this chapter was... *interesting* to write. I don't know if anyone's gonna be, like, mad? About the decision Tubbo just made? But please keep in mind that he's doing what he thinks is right in this moment, and he has good reasons for doing it.

Tommy isn't going to agree with that decision, obviousy, and he has good reasons not to (as we'll see in the next couple of chapters or so). But they're both teenagers under entirely too much stress. They're going to make rash decisions sometimes and they'll deal with the consequences as they come.

Chapter 27: Building Blocks

Notes:

Am I totally happy with this chapter? Meh. Am I posting it anyways because I want to get at the Tubbo POV? Yes.

Have some Quackity and Tommy fluff, you deserve it.

“And you’re sure you don’t mind staying here with Tommy?” Sam asked, for what had to be the fifteenth time. “Puffy and I don’t plan on being gone long, but-”

Quackity waved him off. “Yeah, Sam, it’s fine. I don’t mind watching the kid for a couple of hours.”

“I don’t need anyone to fucking watch me!” Tommy snapped from where he was sitting on the couch.”

Puffy cleared her throat. “Tommy?” The teenager grumbled a bit. “Tommy.”

Tommy’s head fell back against the couch with a groan. “Fucking- fine.” He glowered at Quackity. “Please, don’t phrase it like you’re watching me, because that’s what Dream did and it feels like shit.”

Quackity blinked, bewildered. “Uh-huh.” He shook his head to clear. “No, yeah. I totally get that, uh… we’ll just call this a visit, then.” Tommy huffed but settled back into the couch. Quackity shot Puffy a questioning glance. “What was that about?”

“Tommy’s knee-jerk reaction to everything is anger,” Puffy explained quietly. “I’m trying to encourage him to communicate what makes him upset, instead of just getting frustrated and lashing out. It’s been making things a lot easier, especially after yesterday with...”

“Dream,” Quackity finished. “Yeah.” He’d been horrified to hear that Dream had somehow managed to figure out Tommy’s location. How, he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Tommy could have been hurt, or worse, and Quackity couldn’t help but feel sick thinking about it.

Sam opened the door to the base. “Anything you need before Puffy and I head out, Tommy?”

“Fuck off,” Tommy called. “I appreciate you asking.” 

Quackity raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s a bit of a whiplash.”

“Get used to it,” Sam said. “He’s working through a lot.” He hooked Fran to her leash and opened the base door. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Try to avoid bringing up… you know, him, as much as possible, okay?”

“I got this.” Quackity nudged Sam out the door. “Just go mine with the therapist, man. We’ll be fine.”

Puffy laughed a bit, and then gave a wave as she turned to leave with Sam. “See you in a bit, Quackity.”

Quackity waited until the door was shut before turning to Tommy. “Alright! Now that it’s just us drug dealers in the house-”

“Ex-drug dealers,” Tommy reminded. “God, what I wouldn’t fucking give to go back to the Camarvan, though. Things were so much fucking simpler.” He shot Quackity a crooked grin. “Can’t believe your boyfriend used to be a police officer.”

“Sapnap is my fiance,” Quackity corrected. “And he was totally not a police officer.”

“He totally was,” Tommy argued. “Fundy even yelled ‘Fuck 12’ at him once. Reckon he’s as much of a pig as Technoblade is.”

Quackity gasped in mock offense. “You better take that back, man. My fiance is literally so fucking hot, he could never be a cop.”

“Ew! Dude, I don’t want to hear you talk about how hot Sapnap is,” Tommy got off the couch and started walking away. “Fuck off with all sappy shit, it’s disgusting.”

“What?” Quackity followed after. “I’m just saying. Besides, I haven’t gotten started on how attractive I think Karl is.”

Tommy covered his ears, turning to start walking in a circle around the couch. “Shut up, man! Shut up! Sappy piece of shit, get away from me.”

“Hey, if you think I’m bad, Sapnap could probably go on about Karl for literal hours. And that’s not a joke! I’m pretty sure he’s done it before.” Tommy still walked in circles around the couch and Quackity kept following, enjoying the game. “And Karl? Man, he’s so sweet- he gives us these little forehead kisses all the time, and-”

“La, la, la, la!” Tommy shouted. “Sorry, I don’t speak lovestruck bitch language!”

Quackity outright cackled at that. “Aw, don’t worry Tommy!” he teased. “One day, you’ll find yourself a woman, and you can be just as sappy as me.”

Tommy uncovered his ears to point at Quackity. “I get plenty of women already, thank you very much.” He stopped walking. “Would you quit following me around? I swear, you’re like a fucking…” He trailed off, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You’re like, uh… hm.”

Admittedly, Quackity was caught a little off guard by the way Tommy was studying him. “Uh… what are you staring at, man?”

“Can I ask you about something?” Tommy asked suddenly. “It’s just- something Sam mentioned once, and I was kinda curious.”

Quackity, coming to the conclusion that tormenting Tommy with his fiances was over, gestured for the teenager to continue with his question. “What’s up?”

“You’re a hybrid, Sam said. I think he said- you’re a duck, right?” Tommy fidgeted with the bandana around his neck. “Which is kind of a lame animal to be, honestly.” He cleared his throat. “And, uh… I know sometimes hybrids don’t- they don’t like talking about that shit, so if you, like, don’t want to talk about it-”

Quackity laughed. “Dude, it’s fine. He shrugged off his blue windbreaker. “I don’t talk about it very often, but yeah. I’m a duck hybrid. Gadwall duck, specifically.” He spread his wings slightly to give Tommy a better look. “And, yeah, it’s not the most interesting hybrid to be. Compared to, like, Ranboo or Fundy, it’s pretty lame.”

Tommy’s eyes widened as Quackity’s  wings stretched out behind him. “Oh,” he muttered. “That- that’s so cool, actually. What the fuck?” His hand lifted for a moment, then he dropped it again. “Can you fly with these?”

“Technically speaking? Kind of.” Quackity hummed at the pleasant ache that came with stretching. “Not very well, since they’re kinda small. It’s more like gliding than anything, but… yeah, I can fly a little.” He rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the feeling of having his wings out. “I don’t do it very often, though.”

“Why the fuck not?” Tommy asked incredulously, still marveling at the light gray and brown of Quackity’s wings. “Dude, if I had wings, I’d be flying all the fucking time.” He looked over the wings again. “Are they darker down at the bottom, there?”

Quackity shifted so that Tommy could see. “Yeah, the primaries are a little darker at the tips, but the rest of it is just that… grayish brown? Not super flashy, I know. Kind of boring.”

“No fucking way,” Tommy said firmly. “Big Q, this is literally the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Holy fuck- the only other wings I’ve see were Phil’s, but those are just plain black, like- like a fucking crow or some shit.”

Only Karl or Sapnap had shown such interest in his wings before. He wasn’t even sure if Schlatt ever knew, but Tommy looked like he was truly fascinated by them. “Thought you said ducks were lame,” Quackity reminded him. “You going soft on me, Innit?”

“Ducks are lame,” Tommy confirmed, “but you are fucking poggers, Big Q.”

Quackity smiled and rolled his eyes before slipping his windbreaker back on. He could feel a few of his feathers crumple into odd positions, and he made a mental note to straighten them later. It’d been a couple of days since he’d looked them over.

Ducks in nature usually preened themselves, but Quackity was decidedly not very duck-shaped, and sometimes had a hard time reaching certain places on his own. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he hadn’t had help taking care of his feathers since the last time he’d seen Karl, which...

Which had been a while. Quackity really did try to not be bitter, it wasn’t like he was doing any better about keeping in contact with Karl or Sapnap, but it still felt… bad. It felt bad.

It’d be better once he finished Las Nevadas. They would finally have a stable place to stay, with no dangerously obsessed poets to blow it up.

Guilt tugged at him a bit, because Wilbur was still Tommy’s older brother. Then again, If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he couldn’t find it in himself to care very much. He’d watched Tommy talk Wilbur down from blowing up Manburg and Pogtopia, he felt he had the right to say Wilbur was an absolute bastard.

“Hey, Big Q?”

“Hm?”

“If you could fly to some place, like… just anywhere, really, where would you go?”

Quackity thought for a moment. “Honestly? I don’t think I’d go anywhere. I’ve put so much thought into Las Nevadas, I couldn’t imagine going anywhere else.” He tugged the sleeves of his windbreaker into place. “I just wanna start building, you know? This server doesn’t have a good track record with that sort of thing, but I really want to try.”

“What if you didn’t have that, though,” Tommy pressed. “Do you think you’d go?”

He took a moment to flop down onto the couch. “Why do you ask?”

Tommy sat down next to him, almost cautiously. “I don’t know,” he answered. “I just- Tubbo and I talked about it once. About… leaving.”

“Really?” Quackity asked in surprise. “That’s- wait, you?”

“What?” Tommy asked defensively. “We only talked about it, man. Don’t think about it too hard.”

Quackity shook his head. “No, no! Dude, I don’t blame you, I just… it’s hard to imagine you wanting to be anywhere except L’Manburg. After everything you gave up for that country?”

Tommy scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, well… it was technically Manburg, when we talked about leaving. We didn’t- you said you have something to build, right? Well, we didn’t. We didn’t have anything.”

“So you were gonna leave?”

“Not exactly,” Tommy sighed. “It was fantasy more than anything. We both knew we couldn’t really leave.” He laughed, though it sounded bitter. “Like Wilbur would have let me fucking go, anyway. And Schlatt? Tubbo was lucky to sneak out as many times as he did.”

Quackity tried to push down the guilt he felt at that. Schaltt had not been kind to Tubbo during his presidency. And there were times when Quackity hadn’t been all that kind, either, as much as he hated to admit it. Fireworks still made him uncomfortable sometimes. “Mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What if you did have something to build, like I have Las Nevadas?” he asked. “What would you want to build?”

Tommy scoffed. “I haven’t got time to think about shit like that, Big Q, I still have to get my discs back. It’s the only thing I can do right now.”

“Come on, humor me,” Quackity insisted. “If you could build anything, create a legacy for yourself, what would it be?”

There was a long pause, Tommy’s brow furrowing in thought. “I don’t know… maybe- I reckon I’d build a hotel or something, if I could.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I could run a whole country, like you and Wibur, but I bet I could manage a hotel.”

Quackity grinned. “Hotel, huh? Why a hotel?”

Tommy glanced away. “Just- you know, hotels are places for people who don’t have anywhere else to go.” He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “I would have liked somewhere like that, when I got exiled and… exiled again. Neutral ground, yeah? Like, a ‘no fighting allowed’ kind of thing.”

Sometimes, Quackity expected Tommy to just always be the reckless, obnoxious teenager that he was. He always forgot that Tommy really was capable of being serious, sometimes even solemn. “Tommy, that’s actually really cool, man.”

“Ah, shut the fuck up, Big Q.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I’m not!” Quackity reached out to put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Seriously, I’m not. Neutral ground? Any other kid would said- like, a fucking a arcade or something. I think you’re the only person nice enough to want a hotel, just to make sure everyone one had a place to go.”

“I am not nice,” Tommy said. “Not a shred of kindness in me. I’m all charisma. There’s too much swag in me to fit anything nice.”

Quackity nudged Tommy playfully, careful not to be too rough (he’d learned not to, after watching Tommy flinch away from people). “Come on, man, seriously.” He stretched out on the couch and got comfortable. “Theoretical hotel building. Where would you want to put it? L’Manburg?”

“Nah. I don’t think so.” Tommy leaned back in thought. “Would kind of defeat the purpose of neutral ground, wouldn’t it? I’d probably build it somewhere else.”

Quackity tilted his head. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting that answer.”

Tommy gave him a deadpan stare. “I’m exiled, Big Q.”

He lifted his hands placatingly. “I know, man, but exile isn’t gonna be forever. You’re gonna be able to go back to your country eventually.”

The silence stretched on longer than he would have thought possible.

“I, uh…” Tommy fiddled with his bandana nervously. “I was actually thinking… maybe I don’t go back to L’Manburg?” He frowned. “Like, I’ll still visit Tubbo, of course. I’ll still visit my friends.”

Quackity didn’t think that was a jab, but it kind of felt like one. Or maybe that was guilt rearing its head again at the thought of what Tommy had suffered through at the hands of Dream. “But…?” he prompted.

“But,” Tommy continued, “lately, Sam and Puffy have been pushing me to think about what I want, and L’Manburg was kind of always what Wilbur wanted. I can’t keep- I can’t keep giving up everything for Wilbur’s country, you know?”

“I get it,” Quackity said. “No, that- that makes perfect sense, actually. Wilbur was a fucking asshole.”

Tommy glared. “You don’t get to talk about Wilbur like that. Only I do, because he’s my brother and I’m the only one that gets to insult him. “ He smiled. “But, yeah. He really was a dickhead about pretty much everything. Not Sam, though. He’s great. I really… I really like staying here.”

“He’s happy to have you around,” Quackity said. “Seriously, he’s like a hermit out here all by himself. We’d miss you back in L’Manburg, but I get it if you’d want to stick around, and I’m sure Sam wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Tommy preened. “I’m amazing company. The poggest, actually. It’s an honor to be in my presence.” He smiled, his eyes softening a bit. “So… yeah. As long as Sam’s okay with it, I’ll just stay here. My discs and neutral ground. I think that’s all I really want.”

Finally, was all that Quackity could think. Finally, Tommy was looking out for himself. Finally stepping out of Wilbur’s shadow, instead of giving up everything for a legacy that should have died with the madman. As much as Quackity wanted L’Manburg to succeed as a country, he hated that the little success it had was attributed to the guy who destroyed it.

He started to respond, only to be interrupted by the base door opening. “The hell? What are they doing back so soon?” He stood up from the couch and started towards the door. “I wonder if they-”

“That’s not Sam,” Tommy said suddenly. “Big Q, that’s not-” He scrambled off the couch and took a couple steps back, frantically checking his communicator. “That’s not Sam. He messages me when he comes home, always. That’s not Sam.”

“What-” Quackity started to ask, but there was only one other person that would want to come to Sam’s base. “Tommy, go,” he hissed. “Tommy, you need to go hide. Now.”

Tommy took a breath, then turned and ran down the hallway. Quackity heard a door shut, reassuring him that the teen had made it to his room. And he turned back just in time to see Dream stroll into the room like he owned the place. “Get out.”

“Well,” Dream drawled. “If it isn’t my second favorite threat to the server.”

“Get. Out.”

Dream scoffed. “Easy, Big Q. I’m just here to deliver a message.” He glanced around. “I take it Sam isn’t around?”

“No,” Quackity said coolly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message for you, though. Now speak fast and leave. You aren’t welcome here.” The more Dream was in his presence, the more he was reminded of how much he wanted to kill the man in the mask.

“Alright.” Dream held up his hands in mock surrender. “ Jeez, you’re an impatient guy, huh?” He took another look around the room. “Tommy wouldn’t happen to be nearby, would he? The message is technically for him.”

Quackity narrowed his eyes. “For the last time, Dream. The message. Then leave.” He hoped Tommy couldn’t hear them from his room. If Dream’s first visit had sent him spiraling, Quackity didn’t want to imagine what this might do.

Dream studied Quackity for a moment. “Tommy’s citizenship has been reinstated. He is now welcome within the boundaries of L’Manburg.”

Which, realistically, should have been great news, except that it had come from Dream. “Yeah? Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Tubbo and I came to an agreement,” Dream explained. “Tommy gets his citizenship reinstated, and I get his other disc.” He waved a hand flippantly. “I had Cat already, but Tubbo had Mellohi, so… we made a deal.”

“You made a deal with Tubbo,” Quackity repeated slowly. “Tommy’s disc for exile to be over?” Logically, objectively, it could be considered a good deal. But, in the end, that was Tommy’s disc, and Quackity knew damn well that he wouldn’t have agreed to this.

Dream shrugged. “Basically, yeah.” He sounded like he was smiling behind the mask. “You know, Tubbo was always the more sensible of those two. I suppose that’s why Wilbur said Tommy would never be president.” He shook his head, as if disappointed. “He was always right about that kid, you know. Always led with his emotions.”

Quackity’s wings twitched in annoyance under his windbreaker. He was glad that he kept them hidden most of the time. They were far more telling than he would have liked. “I’ll let Tommy know about the new arrangement. I assume you know where the door is.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” Dream turned and started walking away. “I have other business to attend to, anyway” He lifted a hand in a wave as he walked away. “Give Sam and Puffy my regards. I look forward to seeing Tommy back in L’Manburg.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Quackity muttered, watching Dream disappear from sight. He waited until he heard the door open and shut before allowing himself to relax. It took a moment of trying to contain his anger before he remembered. “Shit,” he breathed. “Tommy.”

He tore down the hall to Tommy’s room, almost wishing that Sam and Puffy hadn’t decided to take Fran with them to go mining. Tommy probably could have used the dog’s support. Fran probably would have been better at this than him.

But all Tommy had was Quackity. He’d have to make it work. “Tommy!” he called out in a panic, momentarily forgetting that shouting probably wouldn’t help Tommy’s current state of mind. “Hey, man, are you okay?” He opened the bedroom door to Tommy sitting on his bed, his hands gripping the blankets in trembling fists at his sides. “He left, Tommy,” Quackity said quietly. “Dream left. It’s safe, I promise.”

Tommy’s gray eyes were wide, trained on the floor, hazy with too many emotions to count. “Tubbo gave him the disc,” he whispered.

Quackity felt his stomach twist painfully at the defeat in Tommy’s voice. He didn’t even sound surprised, just… lost. “I’m sorry.” He reached for his communicator. “Do you want me to call Sam and Puffy? Or we can wait until they get back.”

“Wait,” Tommy answered, still staring at the ground. “Dream won’t come back again if he already has what he wants. Which, he does.” His fists curled tighter. “He got exactly what he fucking wanted. Again. Why does he- why does this keep happening?”

“Hey,” Quackity moved to sit next to Tommy on the bed. “Tommy, it’s okay.” As soon as Sam returned, Quackity was going straight to L’Manburg for some answers. He knew Tubbo cared too much about Tommy for this to be a rash decision, but that didn’t excuse it.

Tommy had too much taken from him already, and now Tubbo was pawning off his discs? To Dream, of all people, the man who openly claimed to want nothing but control. It still irked him how easily people gave into him, knowing that he was corrupt and evil and after Tommy, specifically.

But he could dwell on that later. For now, he needed to distract Tommy before he spiraled. “Tell me- tell me about that hotel you wanna build. Where are you gonna put it?” Distracting had always worked with Tubbo, when Schlatt got to be too much.

“Put it-” Tommy choked on a breath. “I’d put… by our bench? Tubbo and I have a bench. That’s kinda close to L’Manburg, and it- that might be a good spot, I think. By our bench.”

“Sounds good, man,” Quackity agreed, gently bumping Tommy’s shoulder with his own. “Sounds like a perfect place. Maybe by the Prime Path, huh?”

Tommy wheezed out something that almost sounded like a laugh. “Of course- yeah, by the Prime Path. I- paths are great, Big Q, I like making paths. I’m really good at it.”

“Bet you’re gonna be good at building hotels, too,” Quackity told him. “You know what? I bet you could even commission Sam to help you. He would, you know. He’s gonna help me build Las Nevadas. We’ll ask him when he gets back, okay?”

“Okay,” Tommy breathed. “Okay, yeah. I’ll ask Sam about it.” A small smile found its way to Tommy’s face. “I was kinda joking before, but… I think I actually want to. Build a hotel, I mean. And everyone would be invited except… everyone except for-”

Quackity’s hand hovered over Tommy’s arm, just in case. “Tommy? You good, man?”

Tommy seemed to struggle with his words for a moment. “I- no?” he said tentatively. Then, “No, I don’t- I don’t think I’m okay, actually, I’m kinda…. I’m freaking out a little.” Tommy’s scarred hands tangled in his mess of blond curls and tugged anxiously. “Dream was here. He was here, and he has my discs, and he said- and I’m allowed to- he can’t wait to see me back in L’Manburg?”

“You don’t have to,” Quackity assured him. “You don’t have to go, if you’re afraid he’s gonna be there.”

“I’m not afraid,” Tommy said quickly. “I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of anything, fuck you. Fuck you, and fuck Dream, and-” He choked on a laugh. “He’s not- Dream’s never gonna let me go. He’s gonna keep doing this forever and I’m not ever gonna escape.”

And Quackity was going to kill Dream. Just for that, he was going to kill Dream as soon as L’Manburg was finished with Technoblade. There was going to be a broken mask, stained with blood by Quackity’s own two hands.

Tommy was taller than Quackity by a pretty large margin, but so was Karl. So it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to reach up and pull Tommy into a hug. Tommy’s breath hitched, tensing in Quackity’s arms, as though preparing for something less comforting than a hug.

Quackity understood all too well. It’d taken him a while before Sapnap’s hugs had felt more reassuring than threatening.

But Tommy wasn’t like Quackity. Tommy was more trusting, especially in moments like this, scared and upset and struggling to breathe. He didn’t return the hug, not quite ready for that level of vulnerability (as far as Quackity knew, only Sam had managed that accomplishment), but after a few moments of quick, shallow breaths, Quackity felt Tommy relax in his embrace.

Dream was gonna pay for this. Quackity wasn’t sure how yet, but Dream was going to pay for what he’d done to the shaking sixteen year old in his arms. He’d make sure of it, one way or another.

It almost made him want to ignore his vendetta against Technoblade, just for a little bit, to make sure Dream wouldn’t get away with this.

Almost. Technoblade’s execution still took precedence.

Sam may have been neutral, a third party to keep Tommy safe, but Quackity wasn’t. Quackity had an agenda, as most politicians do,and it involved Dream being out of the picture. Las Nevadas wouldn’t be safe until he was.

And after Schlatt, Quackity had decided that--in the otherwise ruthless world of politics and business--he would live by exactly one rule. To take care of the people that took care of him.

Tommy had been the first person to welcome him into Pogtopia, to offer him refuge from Schlatt when everyone else seemed hesitant. He was there when the contract with Schlatt fell through and met him in the forests outside of Manburg to make sure he’d made it out safe.

Quackity had an agenda, and the agenda came first. Always. The hit list and Las Nevadas came first. But that didn’t mean Tommy couldn’t be included. In fact, in Quackity’s mind, it was a given that Tommy be included. Just as included as Sam or Karl and Sapnap. The people that looked out for him.

He took care of the people that took care of him. And he’d be damned if Tommy’s suffering went unanswered.

Notes:

For the folks speculating that Tubbo gave Dream a fake disc... yeah, sorry. No, that was actually Mellohi that he handed over. He's a scared, stressed, and very traumatized seventeen year old who wants his friend back and had exactly one way to guarantee he could do it safely.

He thought he was doing what was right in the moment. It'll be talked about more in-depth next chapter, but he's just a kid trying his best. Imagine if he did hand over a fake disc and Dream found out it wasn't the real one. What do you think he'd do? Think he'd be too happy about that?

Right. So, yes, Tubbo handed over the real disc.

Chapter 28: Storm Warning

Notes:

Hi, hi, hello. Tubbo POV, pogchamp, who's ready for the stressy president boy?

Fair warning, Quackity is gonna be a little less than understanding in this chapter, but so is Tubbo. They're both stubborn and have a hard time seeing things from other people's point of view. It's gonna cause problems.

Tubbo hated it when he had to comply.

Specifically, he hated when he had to comply with Dream.

The plan had always been to get Tommy back in L’Manburg, whether Dream had approved or not, but that didn’t guarantee Tommy’s safety at all. Truthfully, it’d been a constant worry in the back of his mind, how Dream might retaliate when he brought Tommy back.

More walls? More threats? It would have been worth it to have Tommy back, he could have found some way to handle  that, but if Dream decided to take it further? What then?

Making the deal with Dream had been a blow to his pride, especially since he was trying to be more adamant in the fact that he was president and he made the decisions. But if it meant that Tommy was safer, then it was worth it.

What did people expect him to do? A seventeen year old confronted with his best friend’s enemy, the owner of the server? There was no telling what Dream might do with an act of defiance like, say, completely violating an agreement by letting Tommy back into L’Manburg.

He’d had been presented with an opportunity to make sure that Tommy’s return to L’Manburg was a safe one, and he’d taken it.

Tubbo had thought about it, and thought it over again, and again until he was most definitely over thinking it. He had replayed the conversation over and over in his head right into the next day. Overthinking seemed to be a regular thing. That, and constant stress, what with Technoblade’s trial looming, Dream’s spontaneous visit, and Tommy still holed away somewhere.

No… not somewhere. With Sam. Tommy was with Sam.

He wasn’t all that familiar with the secluded creeper hybrid, but he knew the guy was nice, so he wasn’t too concerned. Sam wasn’t really affiliated with anyone, which eliminated the risk of Tommy being affiliated with anyone.

Not that he thought Tommy would ever side with anyone except L’Manburg, but…

Tubbo let his head thump against the table, simply resting it there while thoughts drifted idly through his head. Tommy would be back in L’Manburg soon enough, which brought him some comfort amidst the stress, but he could admit that his most recent decision might face a little opposition.

Yeah, Tommy would be pissed, actually, the more Tubbo thought about it. Giving Dream both of Tommy’s discs was a calculated risk he was willing to take, though. This wouldn’t be the first time Dream had the discs, and it was really for Tommy’s benefit this time, so he imagined that Tommy would understand.

He’d be angry, but he’d also be home. And maybe they could get the discs back another way, sometime in the future when all of this had died down a little and things were back to normal.

For the moment, however, there were bigger problems. The discs didn’t matter as much as Tommy thought they did, and maybe… maybe that was a little unfair of Tubbo to say but, objectively, it was true. The discs, despite how much Tommy loved them, just didn’t matter all that much.

They certainly didn’t matter as much as having Tommy home. Having Tommy back in L’Manburg was far more important than any disc on the server.

Tommy would understand.

Tubbo lifted his head and rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to move on to the next issue. He supposed he should tell Ranboo that he’d been made aware of Tommy’s location. That could wait until a little later in the day, though, when Tubbo had pulled himself together a little bit.

A knock at the door made him groan in frustration. Could he not catch one single break? “What?”

“Tubbo?” a familiar voice called. “I think we need to talk.”

“Just come in, Big Q,” The door swung open to reveal Quackity, who looked… not quite angry, but something close. “What do you want?”

Quackity stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “I saw Dream leave your office yesterday.”

So, they were playing this game. Fine. “I heard Tommy was staying at Sam’s yesterday,” he countered.

“Yeah?” Quackity asked, seemingly unfazed by the fact that Tubbo knew Tommy’s location. A shame, really. Tubbo was hoping for more of a reaction. “I’m assuming Tommy wasn’t the one that gave you that information?”

“No, he wasn’t,” Tubbo replied, “because Tommy doesn’t give me any information about anything.”

Quackity leaned against the closed door. “It’s almost like his privacy about the whole situation was important to him or something.”

“Or something,” Tubbo echoed.

“It’s almost,” Quackity continued, “like he was afraid Dream might ask about something important? And that if he trusted you with it, you might give it to him?”

This was exactly the kind of thing that Tubbo didn’t have the time or energy to deal with. “If you’ve got a point to make, Quackity, then I suggest you hurry up with it,” Tubbo said. “Tommy is my best friend, and I’m allowed to be upset when he refuses to tell me shit.”

“Glass houses, Tubbo,” Quackity warned. “You don’t get to be pissed that you had to find out Tommy’s location from Dream. Not when Tommy had to find out that you traded his disc away from the same person.”

Tubbo’s heart leapt in his throat. Obviously, he’d wanted to tell Tommy himself--after they dealt with Technoblade, of course-- but he didn’t expect anyone to beat him to it. Especially not Dream. “How did you… how did Tommy-”

“Because Dream broke into Sam’s base this morning and told him.” Quackity tilted his head. “When exactly did you plan on telling Tommy that you just handed over the one thing of value that he owns. Actually, pretty much the only thing he owns.”

“I did what I had to do.” Tubbo ran a hand through his hair, fingertips bumping against his horns (that did not make him look like Schlatt, because Schlatt was a ram and he was a  goat, there was a difference). “I already know Tommy’s gonna be pissed off, okay? I don’t need to hear it from you.”

Quackity stared at him in disbelief. “Is that seriously what you’re concerned about? You think Tommy’s angry?” He gestured wildly. “How about you be more concerned that Dream is willing to break into people’s houses to find him. It’s a damn good thing I was there with Tommy this morning, because there is no telling what Dream might have done to him.”

“He wouldn’t have done anything,” Tubbo stated. “The terms of the agreement stated that Dream wasn’t allowed to mess with Tommy anymore. No strings attached, Tommy is allowed back into L'Manburg.”

“There are always strings, Tubbo,” Quackity said. “And Tommy says that Dream won't quit. Not as long as those discs are in his possession.”

Tubbo scowled. “Dream won’t do anything. He told me that he wouldn’t.”

“You’ll take his word on that?” Quackity asked. “You’ll take Dream’s word over Tommy’s?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tubbo, come on, I know you’re smart.”

Frustration bubbled in Tubbo's chest, but he forced it down. “A few months ago, you were pissed that I sent Tommy away, and now you’re upset that I’m bringing him back?”

Quackity huffed, “I’m more upset about the how.”

“By any means necessary,” Tubbo stated. “We wanted Tommy back in L’Manburg, and he can come back.”

“At Tommy’s expense,” Quackity protested. “First you exile the guy, and now you’re pawning off all his shit!”

Tubbo was finding it harder and harder to bite back his frustration. “It was necessary. I’m aware that it’s gonna have repercussions, but we were screwed no matter what I did, so I made sure Tommy was safe.”

“But he isn’t safe,” Quackity argued. “How are you not getting this? As long as Dream is involved, Tommy is not safe. And now you’ve given him even more  leverage to make Tommy’s life a living hell.”

Tubbo fought to keep his composure. “I know what I’m doing, Big Q. I made sure the terms of the agreement were very clear.” He drummed his fingers against the desk. “Tommy won’t get hurt. So, you can stop looking so on edge about it.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Quackity said stiffly. “It’s just, you know, the last time you made a deal with Dream, it got Tommy exiled.”

“I don’t need to be reminded,” Tubbo snapped. “If you came to give me another lecture about exile, then you can walk right back out that door.” He huffed. “Anyway, it doesn’t even matter anymore. His exile is over, and he can come back to L’Manburg just as soon as we deal with Technoblade.”

“And what makes you think Tommy even wants to come back?”

Tubbo blinked. “What- of course he does. Why wouldn’t…” he trailed off. He hadn’t thought to consider the possibility that Tommy wouldn’t want to come back. It wasn’t even something that could be considered. It was like trying to imagine the sky being any color but blue.

Quackity pushed himself away from the door and moved to stand in front of Tubbo’s desk. “Look, man, I know you don’t give a shit about those discs. You made that explicitly clear.”

The discs don’t matter, Tommy!

“But just because they aren’t important to you, doesn’t mean that they don’t still hold some kind of power, because they do,” Quackity continued. “And I can’t believe that you’re just giving Dream the control he wants. Again. Did you not learn your fucking lesson with Tommy’s exile, man?”

“I was thinking logically,” Tubbo protested. “And, logically, this was the best choice that I could make. I know that all Tommy cares about is his discs, but-”

Quackity interrupted with, “Is that really what you think?”

“It’s what he always says!” Tubbo pointed out. “All he wants is his discs.”

“All Tommy wants to be safe, man! And he isn’t gonna be safe as long as Dream can hold those discs over his head.” Quackity put his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “So fucking sue him for wanting his discs back. They belong to him, and he deserves to have them back after giving them up so many times.”

Tubbo tried to think of a retort, but couldn’t. He prided himself in being a logical thinker and not leading with his emotions. Unlike Tommy, who seemed to exclusively lead with his emotions. But, somehow, with all his logic, Tommy just seemed further away than ever.

How was that possible? He did everything right. He made the reasonable, logical, correct decision. Why was it backfiring this badly?

“And here you are thinking Tommy’s gonna be pissed off and- actually, you know what? He should be pissed,” Quackity said harshly. “He has every right to be so fucking pissed right now.”

Tubbo stood so that he was eye-to-eye Quackity. “I’m doing my fucking best, Big Q!” he argued. “What exactly do you expect me to do with Dream breathing down my neck about every fucking thing I do?”

Quackity rolled his eyes. “Take your own advice, maybe. Start with that.” He pointed at Tubbo. “You want Tommy to learn from his mistakes? You need to learn from yours, too. You handed your best friend over to Dream after you told him that you wouldn’t, gave Dream power over him, and now you’re doing it again.

“Maybe if Tommy needs to grow up and be less emotional, then you need to be less of a logical dickhead,” Quackity said. “Because we both know that if the roles were reversed, Tommy would have rather died than let Dream have that kind of power over you, but you keep on fucking him over.”

Tommy would have, and that was probably the worst part about it. If it were down to Dream and Tubbo, Tommy would fight Dream tooth and nail, and Tubbo knew that.

But that was because Tommy was emotional! Irrational, even. Tubbo didn’t-- couldn’t --fight like that. “Big Q, I can’t just throw myself into every fight. It’s not possible, or realistic, and I can’t.”

“You think Tommy can?” Quackity asked. “Why? Because he volunteered for the duel? Because he never protested giving up his discs? Because he did it without anyone asking him to? He didn’t do it because it was easy, Tubbo, he did because he thought we were worth it. He fought because you were worth it. L'Manburg was worth the fighting, but he has his fucking limits, man.”

And something about that made his stomach twist into a painfully tight knot. Of course Tommy had limits. Tommy, as much as Tubbo loved him, had always been just a little bit selfish. “Limits, huh? So at what point do we not become worth the fight anymore? At what point is our freedom and independence as a nation not worth the fighting?”

“How about when he ready to fucking kill himself,” Quackity seethed. “Let’s set the limit there.”

If Quackity had been expecting an answer, he didn’t get one. Tubbo swallowed around the burning in his throat, feeling sick for reasons he couldn’t quite name.

Exile wasn’t meant to be that bad. Exile wasn’t meant to be bad at all! It was- Ghostbur had always described it like a vacation, and Tubbo had thought that was a gentle way of putting it. A better way of looking at it than ‘you sent Tommy away’.

Maybe it was too gentle, considering all that had happened.

Quackity shook his head and pulled away from the desk, looking disgusted, like he couldn’t believe anything that Tubbo was saying. “Tommy is willing to die for your freedom. Your independence and happiness is worth everything to him. What’s his happiness worth to you?”

Tubbo opened his mouth to argue, because how dare Quackity assume that Tommy’s happiness wasn’t valuable to him? What the fuck did he know anyway? Quackity didn’t know Tommy, not as well as Tubbo did. Tubbo knew Tommy better than anyone.

“Get out of my fucking office,” Tubbo demanded, struggling to keep his voice steady. “We’re going after Technoblade tomorrow, so start getting things ready for the trial.” He sat back down at his desk, pointedly looking at the wooden surface and not Quackity. “I’ll speak with Tommy about his citizenship afterwards.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, “Tommy said he’d still visit, you know,” Quackity said quietly. “First thing he said after he told me that he might not return to L’Manburg. He’d still come and visit you.”

He didn’t watch Quackity leave, but he heard the door open and shut. Quackity had always been quiet, his retreating footsteps near silent. The benefits of having to tiptoe around Schlatt for so long, Tubbo supposed, or maybe it was something to do with his hybrid nature.

Didn’t matter. Tubbo waited about ten seconds, just to be safe, before letting his head fall against the desk for the second time that day.

It was another thirty seconds before the weight of everything Quackity had said crashed over him.

Tommy didn’t want to come back.

Somehow, that was more terrifying than Technoblade had ever been. Because at least after Technoblade, Tommy had been there. Tommy had been there to pull him into a hug after he respawned. To defend him when he refused to defend himself. And maybe it was Wilbur that demanded Technoblade and Tommy fight, but Tubbo wasn’t deaf. He’d heard Tommy and Technoblade talking.

Tommy hadn’t done it for Wilbur.

Wilbur, Technoblade, and Dream be damned, Tubbo always had Tommy. The one constant they had was each other, and… maybe Tubbo had been the first to strip that away from Tommy, but that had been necessary. It didn’t make it seem any better, no matter how many times he told himself that, but he didn’t know what else to do.

He was starting to understand why Tommy led with his emotions. It was difficult to juggle his feelings and his logic. That’s why he tended to default to logic. It was simpler, and he could hide behind it. Logic was justifiable. Emotions weren’t.

It was justifiable to hand over Tommy’s discs.

It wasn’t justifiable to hurt Tommy.

But if Tommy could have gotten hurt either way, then where did that leave him? And with the knowledge that Tommy might not even come back anyway, Tubbo felt more lost than ever.

Quackity said Tommy would still visit, so the endeavor hadn’t been completely in vain. Just… mostly in vain.

Not that the difference mattered much.

He’d talk to Tommy. Quackity had only said Tommy might not return to L’Manburg. If he could get through to Tommy somehow, make him understand that he’d only been trying to do what he thought was best, then maybe his friend would still want to come back.

Right… he just needed to talk to Tommy.

Later. After they’d dealt with Technoblade. It wouldn’t be too much longer, then he’d sort everything out, and things could go back to normal.

Tommy would understand why he’d wait. Tommy would understand why he did it. Tommy would come back, and everything would be fine.

Tubbo slid his arms under his head and turned to stare out the window, expecting blue skies and maybe a few clouds. The sky, however, seemed to have other plans, gray with impending rain. Fitting, Tubbo thought bitterly, it matched his mood.

Ranboo had told him that Tommy’s eyes were gray. It was difficult to imagine, but he thought it would look just like the incoming storm.

He wondered if it was too late to admit that he didn’t know what he was doing.

Notes:

Is Quackity being a little unfair to Tubbo? Yes. Is Tubbo also being a little unfair to Tommy? Also, yes. Is all of this going to backfire at some point? You bet your ass.

Both of these characters are very passionate in their own right, and stubborn to a fault. They don't like seeing things from each other's perspective. Dream is on Quackity's hit list, so he's not going to understand Tubbo handing over the disc. Tubbo is trying to do what's best for L'Manburg, so he's not always going to be understanding of other people's agendas.

They both care about Tommy, though. That's the important thing. You'd think that would make them more understanding of each other, it's a shame their views on Tommy are just as conflicting as their opinions on everything else.

Chapter 29: Thoughts in Order

Notes:

I almost posted this, decided I hated it, deleted a few (like, seven) paragraphs. Rewrote it. Still hated it. And now it's getting posted.

Y'all should google the phrase 'Ship of Theseus'. No particular reason, definitely not for *plot* reasons, I just think you should. It's a pretty pogchamp thing that you should *definitely* know about.

Anyhoo... yeah.

Tommy was tired of being inside. Twice now, Dream had managed to worm his way into Sam’s base. He figured if he had to be scared of running into Dream no matter where he was, he might as well go outside every so often. It was better than waiting anxiously in Sam’s house and jumping at anything that made noise.

Sam hadn’t been opposed, saying that it probably wasn’t healthy for Tommy to be staying inside all of the time. Besides, Dream had the discs now, so it wasn’t like he had a reason to chase Tommy down anyway. He’d probably be safe…

He was really trying not to think about the previous day, when Dream had sent him spiraling. Quackity had left shortly after Sam and Puffy had returned, saying he had to to talk to Tubbo in L’Manburg. He didn’t even stay to discuss the hotel idea, like they’d talked about, but that was probably because Tommy had been too shaken up for much conversation.

Luckily, Sam and Puffy  had been more than understanding. Sam immediately distracted him by dragging him to the workshop, letting him work through his anxiety and anger on some random projects. When Tommy had calmed down a little, Sam had offered to show him how to enchant something. A trident, specifically, and he even offered it to Tommy after enchanting it with Riptide.

Tommy was quite fond of the new trident in his inventory. As far as weapons went, he really only owned a sword, so the addition was welcome. Plus, the trident was a great means of transportation, in the right conditions.

“Sam,” Tommy called. “I’m gonna go steal from Technoblade!” He’d been tempted to ask Sam if he could go, but that felt… it felt. There wasn’t another way to describe it. If he asked Sam to go somewhere, it’d be like asking permission, which Tommy had absolutely no experience with (apart from Dream, but he wasn’t thinking about Dream). It was uncharted territory and it felt and he decided to avoid it entirely.

“Take an invis potion,” Sam called after him. “Do you want Fran to go with you?”

Tommy double-checked that he still had an invisibility potion, then pushed the button to open the door. “I’ll be fine, Sam.” As much as he wanted to bring Fran, she was still Sam’s dog. It didn’t feel right to take her anywhere. Accepting her help already felt like pushing a limit, somehow. He didn’t want to overstep a boundary.

Was it overstepping a boundary if Sam had offered? Tommy still wasn’t quite sure how it all worked.

Sam poked his head into the room, pushing up his goggles so that Tommy could see his eyes. Tommy wasn’t an idiot, he knew exactly why Sam did it, and he was far too prideful to admit that he appreciated the gesture. “You’ll call if something happens?”

“Sure, whatever,” Tommy said.

“Tommy.” Sam fully stepped into the room. “I’m serious.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and turned away so that Sam couldn’t see his face. He could feel his face twisting into an expression that it hadn’t made since… not since Wilbur, he didn’t think. An embarrassingly happy smile, just barely hidden behind a facade of indifference.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Sam really was making him soft.

“Fine,” he said, heaving an exasperated sigh. “Yes, Sam, I’ll call if something happens.”

He chanced a glance behind him. Sam was smiling. If Tommy didn’t know any better, he’d say it looked fond. But fondness, like most things, had died with Wilbur, so he opted to believe that it was something else.

“Tommy!” Puffy ran up to him, slinging a satchel over her shoulder. “Mind if I head out with you?”

Tommy tried to push aside the hurt, because it was irrational and dumb. Puffy leaving probably wasn’t personal, he was almost certain that it wasn’t, but… “You’re leaving?” he asked anyway.

She smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Tommy. I’ve got some business to take care of.”

Something more important than you, Dream taunted. Tommy shook the thought from his head. “Fine by me,” he said. “It’s your fucking life. What do I care?” He cared, though. He did care, probably far more than he should, because what if Puffy was leaving because she hated him? What if he’d annoyed her somehow? Pushed a button he should have just left alone?

“I’ll be sure to visit,” Puffy assured him. “And you can call whenever you want, if you need advice.”

“I don’t need advice,” Tommy replied. “I’m too pogchamp for advice.” And if his shoulders relaxed as he stepped out of the door, no they didn’t.

Sam moved so that he could close the door behind them. “Be safe Tommy. Try not to provoke Techno any more than you need to.”

Tommy was still so unused to the concern. “Relax, man. I’m just gonna steal some shit, bother the Blade a little bit, and come right back home.” Really, he was going to make sure Technoblade had gotten to Phil before L’Manburg did. He didn’t plan on sticking around for conversation or anything.

Besides, he did threaten to steal some of Technoblade’s things. Tommy wasn’t one to back down once he was committed to something. Maybe that was a problem. Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe if Technoblade got angry at him, there’d finally be some sense of normalcy amidst the strange anomaly that was Sam’s kindness.

And maybe he didn’t actually want people angry at him anymore… but maybe he didn’t know what else to do.

Sam still had that stupid fond look on his face that Tommy couldn’t bring himself to hate. “Whatever you say, Tommy,” he said warmly. “Just make sure you get back here safe.”

Tommy scoffed as the door to Sam’s base began to close. “Sure thing, Dad,” and he’d meant it to sound more sarcastic than it did. He’d meant it to sound like a joke, teasing Sam a bit for being so protective of him.

But Sam didn’t laugh. His crimson eyes were wide with surprise as he disappeared behind the door, and Tommy felt… whatever it was that he kept feeling. For his reputation’s sake, he wished he’d stop feeling it, but for personal reasons, he kind of wished it would never stop.

The trident in his inventory wasn’t heavy, not while it was stored away, but Tommy felt like he could feel the weight of it anyway. Why did everything about Sam have to be so fucking confusing?

Puffy had an amused smile on her face when Tommy turned to face her. “The fuck are you looking at?” he asked defensively.

“Nothing,” Puffy said lightly. “Nothing at all.” She was lying, obviously, but Tommy didn’t think it was a malicious kind of lie, so he didn’t press. Also, she’d probably have some therapy bullshit to say, and Tommy was not mentally prepared for whatever psychological explanation she’d provide for him calling Sam his dad.

Jokingly, of course. As a joke.

Tommy wouldn’t even know what to do with a father figure in his life. It wasn't like he'd ever had one before. As if anyone would want to be a father to Tommy Innit, anyway. Wilbur had been… borderline paternal? In some ways. But he’d always viewed the man as an older brother, not knowing enough about parents for reference.

He had been curious about parents, though, when he was younger. Wilbur had always spoken so highly of Philza, but the actual experience of a father figure was foreign to Tommy.

Not that he needed one. Or wanted one. Because he didn't.

"So, Technoblade," Puffy said. "How do you think that's gonna go?"

Tommy hummed. “Fine, I think. As long I keep my stupid mouth shut.”

Puffy tilted her head. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, you know, sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain.” He tapped the side of his head. “Get angry and shit. Tends to start fights if I’m not careful. Which, I never am, because I’m too awesome to be careful.”

“Do you think maybe that you should start?” Puffy asked. “You’ve been communicating with Sam and I wonderfully since you’ve started opening up about what frustrates you. Maybe you should work on being less impulsive, too.”

Tommy, a few months ago, would have argued about how stupid that sounded. But he’d learned quite a bit from Puffy, and felt much better for it, so he wasn’t entirely opposed to hearing her out. “Okay,” he said slowly, “but how would I- how’s that work, exactly?”

Puffy thought for a moment. “You said that you get angry pretty easily, right? And you stop thinking about what you’re saying?”

“I don’t stop thinking about what I’m saying,” Tommy corrected. “It just comes out angrier than I mean it to. Like, I think it, and it sounds fine in my brain, but then it comes out all… pissed off and shit.”

“Well, try not responding right away,” Puffy suggested. “If you’re getting frustrated with a conversation, try taking a second before you respond, instead of making every response a knee-jerk reaction. Maybe that’ll help you get your thoughts in order.”

Tommy considered it for a moment. It didn’t sound too unreasonable. He’d definitely been asked to do far more demanding things that, quite frankly, benefited him way less. “So, I just wait before I answer anything? Wouldn’t that make the conversation, like, super fucking awkward?”

“Better awkward than angry,” Puffy commented. “Just take three seconds to breathe before talking. And you only have to do it when you’re frustrated or angry.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Tommy asked. “What if I’m still too pissed off to get my words out properly?”

Puffy shrugged. “Walk away. Tell Techno or whoever you’re talking to that you need a break. Then you can come back to the conversation later when you’re calmer.”

Tommy blinked. “I can… I can do that? Just fucking- I can walk away?” It would have seemed cowardly, if anyone else had told him to do it, and Tommy absolutely was not a coward, so he wouldn’t have listened. But Puffy was just as brave as she was kind, so it couldn’t be cowardly if she was the one saying it.

“You absolutely can,” Puffy said. “And they should respect your boundaries.”

Boundaries… Sam and Puffy had both been pushing him to start making those, even for them, which was weird. Wilbur and Dream never let him have boundaries before. They’d always insisted that they know anything, everything, that he was saying and doing, no matter what it was.

And if it wasn’t exactly what they wanted him to say or do, there were consequences.

Which was beside the point, because Sam and Puffy weren’t like Wilbur and Dream. And he didn’t even care about Wilbur and Dream, anyway. They’d never given good advice, not like Puffy did.

Well, Wilbur used to, but that was before he went batshit. Tommy liked remembering that Wilbur.

“I’ll try,” Tommy promised. “No guarantees that I’ll be good at it, but… couldn’t hurt, I guess. Healing and shit, yeah?”

“Healing and shit,” Puffy confirmed. “You really are making good progress, just so you know.” She paused in her walking. “Anyway, I think this is where we part ways. I’m just a message away if you need anything.”

Tommy nodded. “Sure thing.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, I won’t, because I’m too much of a big man to need help.” Puffy gave him A Look. “Okay! Jeez, I’ll message you if I need advice. Fucking- you and Sam are the exact same, I swear.”

Puffy laughed. “Travel safe,” she told him. “Don’t give Sam any more heart attacks.”

“Shut up,” Tommy muttered, turning away from the sheep hybrid and starting towards Technoblade’s. “Good luck with whatever the fuck you’re doing.”

“Good luck with Technoblade,” Puffy replied.

Tommy watched her walk away, debating calling after her and thanking her for the offer of advice. Because, truthfully, he found more comfort in it than he thought possible. He really felt like he was making progress with her and her therapy sessions.

They hadn’t actually sat down and had a session, necessarily, but she was there when he needed her, and that was really all Tommy cared about. He didn’t think he really needed a session, anyway. Puffy seemed to think he did, but she never pressed about it.

Maybe he’d take her up on it. Someday. After he made sure Tubbo didn’t doom L’Manburg and he had his discs back.

Something cold and angry turned in his stomach at the thought of Tubbo and his discs, but he shoved it down. Puffy had told him to try seeing things from Tubbo’s point of view, and he supposed that if thought about it hard enough that he could understand why Tubbo did it, but that didn’t make him any less angry about it.

Quackity had seemed upset, too. Probably just because Dream was on his hit list, and the discs gave him more control. Tommy had experience with businessmen and politicians, and the agenda always came first, but he liked to believe that maybe Quackity was also a little angry on his behalf.

It’d be nice to have someone angry on his behalf, Tommy thought. Especially since he couldn’t really find it in himself to ever be truly angry with Tubbo. Not for very long, anyway.

The walk to Technoblade’s house was quiet, and mostly spent mulling over Puffy’s advice. It honestly sounded like something Wilbur might have told him, back when Wilbur’s advice was better than ‘let’s be the bad guys’.

God, he hated Wilbur.

He didn’t, but he sometimes wished that he could.

Technoblade’s house coming into view saved him from thinking about Wilbur too much. Sometimes, if he thought about Wilbur long enough, he’d remember the good things about Wilbur, and that was almost more painful than remembering how absolutely shitty he was in the ravine.

“Blade!” Tommy shouted as she pushed the door open. “I’m here to steal your things!” The house was empty, just as Tommy knew it would be, considering Technoblade’s horse was gone and Phil was nowhere in sight. “Sure, Tommy,” he muttered to himself, in a terrible mockery of Technoblade’s voice. “Come right in, steal whatever, it’s totally fine.”

Tommy, admittedly, didn’t find much of interest in Technoblade’s chests. Not anything he couldn’t find mining with Sam, anyway. He did take a few golden apples, though, just in case, and a couple of ender pearls. Anything else would be just petty, honestly.

Not that he was against being petty, but Sam had mentioned once or twice that annoying people for the sake of being annoying could have been part of the reason why people were so frustrated with him. He had said it in a kind way, like he understood Tommy just needed someone to hear him, and told him better ways to do it than just… shouting. Nobody else would have been that nice about it.

He liked being listened to. Better yet, he liked feeling heard.

In any case, Tommy didn’t need to steal any of Technoblade’s weapons.

And Sam made sure he ate well enough (almost annoyingly so, he insisted that Tommy was still too thin, comparable to the skeletons that Fran barked at), so he didn’t really need to steal any of the steaks or potatoes that Technoblade had stored away.

Come to think of it, he really didn’t need to steal anything. More than that, he didn’t really want to.

Tommy looked up from the chest, staring blankly at the wall behind it

… huh.

Well.

Okay.

Fuck, Sam was making him soft, softer than Wilbur ever would have allowed, because soldiers couldn’t be this soft. Tommy found that he was minding it less and less.

He closed the chest and stood. He supposed that he could just wander around for a little bit, wait for Technoblade to come back, rub it in his face a little about what few things he did steal, and then he could return to Sam.

“Hello, Tommy!”

Now, some would say that Tommy screamed at the sudden voice behind him, but Tommy would argue that the sound was more of a very manly yelp.

He turned around, hand clutching at his shirt just over his beating heart. “Ghostbur!” he exclaimed. “What the fuck, man? You scared the shit out of me!”

Ghostbur smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I just didn’t expect to see you. I’m glad you’re here, though! It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve talked.”

Tommy huffed. “Ghostbur, it’s only been a few days.” He paused. “I missed you, too, actually. You were… how’s living with Technoblade.?”

“It’s great!” Ghostubr told him excitedly. “He and Phil went to check on Technoblade’s turtle farm. It’s not too far, but they went ahead and took Carl the horse for exercise.” Ghostbur’s gaze drifted to the chest Tommy had just been rummaging through. “Were you stealing again?”

“Eh,” Tommy shrugged, “more or less. I did threaten to, last time I was here. I didn’t take much, don’t worry.” Ghostbur looked relieved. “Do you know when Blade is gonna be back? I kinda want to get back to Sam’s as soon as possible.”

Ghostbur tilted his head. “Oh, I had nearly forgotten you were staying with Sam, How is that? Good, I hope?”

Tommy turned away before Ghostbur could see that stupid smile that had found its way to his face again. “Yeah, it’s… great, actually. Sam is really fucking cool.” He pulled the trident out of his inventory. “He helped me enchant this yesterday, which is- it’s pretty fucking poggers, Ghostbur, not gonna lie.”

“That’s great, Tommy!” Ghostbur said. “What did you name it?”

“What? Oh.” Tommy frowned. “I haven’t really thought about naming it.” Naming weapons was… kind of a joke, in Tommy’s opinion. Pretty much any weapon he had named was given a stupid a title, because he never managed to keep anything long enough for it to be meaningful.

That was just how it worked in war. Weapons, armor, it was all just expendable. Sam didn’t treat his weapons like they were expendable, though. He didn’t treat his tools like they were expendable.

Sam didn’t treat Tommy like he was expendable, either.

Tommy looked down at the trident in his hands thoughtfully. The last time he held a trident, it’d been Dream’s (not that he was thinking about Dream), and it was quickly taken away from him. He had to admit, it was nice to have something that was his and couldn’t be taken away.

The trident also made him a bit more like Sam, which was nice. Better to be compared to Sam than Wilbur, but he wasn’t thinking about that.

“What do you reckon I should name it, Ghostbur?” he asked curiously. “Could name it- could name it ‘pussy’ or something. In all caps. That’d be funny.”

Ghostbur laughed. “It would be funny. You were always very funny, Tommy.” He took Tommy by the arm and dragged him towards the ladder in Technoblade’s house. “Come on! There’s an anvil down here that you can use.”

Tommy spluttered. “Right now?”

“Why not?” Ghostbur practically floated down the ladder, barely giving Tommy a chance to follow. “You’re just waiting for Techno, right? I’m sure he won’t mind!”

“Okay… I mean, yeah, you’re probably right.” It wasn’t like he was taking the anvil. He was just using it for a minute. “But I- I still don’t know what I’m going to fucking name the thing. I don’t want to just, you know, make a joke out of it. Sam gave it to me.”

Ghostbur hummed. “Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something. And I’ll help! I’m great at naming things, you know. I named you.”

“I know, Ghostbur, I know.” He briefly remembered Ghostbur saying something like that in exile, and Wilbur had joked about it a couple times when he was younger. Tommy hoped it was a joke, anyway. He honestly wasn’t sure how he ended up with the name ‘Tommy’,

The ghost gently pushed Tommy towards the anvil. “Go on!”

Tommy huffed. “Fine! Fine. Fucking… pushy.” He gripped the trident in his hand a little tighter, struggling to think of a name that didn’t involve jokes. “Could name it after a Greek hero or some shit,” he mumbled. “Like Technoblade does.”

Maybe he could name it Theseus, just to spite the pig a bit.

But he wasn’t supposed to be annoying. He was supposed to be better, so. Maybe not that.

It felt strange to put so much thought into that kind of thing. To be more… self-aware, as Puffy would say, about his own mental health and how his lashing out hurt others. Or annoyed them, as it were. Not that he didn’t still enjoy annoying people, because he did and it was funny, but he was learning that there were limits. Boundaries.

God, Tommy was respecting boundaries. He wasn’t stealing more than he thought would be missed, he was trying to avoid annoying people to the point of pushing limits, and he was even trying to stay out of conflicts. It felt like he was slowly replacing little pieces of himself with… slightly better pieces of himself.

It was… odd. Not in a bad way, he didn’t think, but it was strange. How many more little pieces of himself did he need to replace before he was mentally and emotionally stable again? Until he was whole and unbroken? Would he even recognize himself when he did?

He wondered vaguely if Wilbur would be proud of him for the progress he was making. Or maybe he would have been angry that Tommy was no longer following in his footsteps. Not that he cared what Wilbur thought, because he didn't. Not... not anymore, he just-

Tommy... missed Wilbur. He missed the brother that would play guitar for him when he couldn't sleep. He missed the annoying way Wilbur would tease him for singing to the plants outside the caravan.

They both pretended that it wasn't the inspiration for the L'Manburg Anthem or, at the very least, neither of them had ever mentioned it, but Tommy had always taken a secret pride in that fact.

Hm.

"Wilbur would have laughed at this," Tommy muttered as he put the trident down on the anvil. "He doesn't have any room to talk, though. Sappy piece of shit."

The ghost of his brother watched with interest as Tommy engraved a title into the trident. Hallelujah. The song he'd been caught singing to flowers, and the song that became the catalyst for a nation. A little dumb, maybe, and more than a little sappy, but Tommy liked it. It meant something.

"That's a nice name," Ghostbur commented. "It's like the song! You remember the song 'Hallelujah', Tommy? I remember you used to..." he trailed off when he realized that Tommy wasn't responding. He hesitantly put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Tommy gave Ghostbur a smile, fighting to keep any stupid, watery, sappy emotions out of his voice. “Of course, Big Man. I’m fucking poggers.”

“Can you be ‘poggers’ somewhere  else?” a voice deadpanned.

… Tommy didn’t scream, shut up.

“Blade!” Tommy whirled around, anger rising in his chest. “What the f-” He took a breath. He was calm and collected, and definitely not startled. “Hello, Blade, hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”

Technoblade raised an eyebrow. “I do mind, actually.”

Tommy shrugged. “Too bad. I’m already here.” He brushed past Technoblade to climb back up the ladder. “Is Phil here? I came to check on him.”

“You also came to steal!” Ghostbur added.

“I also came to steal,” Tommy confirmed from the top of the ladder.

Technoblade scowled. “Heh?” He climbed up the ladder after him. “You- raccoon. You’re a raccoon.”

Ghostbur giggled. “Raccoon Innit.”

Tommy hauled himself up to the main floor of Technoblade’s house. “Never call me that again, else I’ll start stabbing shit.” He stood and brushed off his shirt. Glancing up, he could see Phil giving him a confused, if slightly amused, look. “Ayup, Philza.”

“Hey, mate,” Phil greeted. “You, uh… causing trouble?”

“No more than usual.”

Technoblade appeared from the basement. “Phil, he’s stealing.”

“Correction,” Tommy said, “I have already stolen. And I’m not giving any of the shit back.” At Phil’s questioning glance, Tommy explained. “Last time I was here, Techno accused me of taking shit when I didn’t. So now I’m taking shit.”

“You’re a known thief,” Technoblade protested. “It’s not an unreasonable assumption to make.”

Ghostbur tsked playfully. “You know what they say about assuming, Techno.”

Technoblade grumbled, but offered no rebuttal. Phil laughed good-naturedly at his friend before turning to Tommy. “I assume you have other business? Other than stealing from Techno, of course.”

Tommy waved a hand flippantly. “Just checking on you, actually. Fucking- gotta make sure the old man made it out of L’Manburg okay. Women, children, and elderly first, you know.”

Phil let out a startled laugh. “You fucking child, stop calling me old!”

“Can’t help it, Dadza. You’re fucking old.”

“Dadza?” Technoblade asked incredulously.

Embarrassed, Tommy cleared his throat. “Sorry, Philza. I meant Philza. Wilbur…” He hesitated. “Wilbur called you that a lot, just… sorry. Whatever. Shut up.”

Phil’s gaze seemed to soften somewhat. “It’s fine, Tommy.” And it did seem fine. Phil didn’t look offended or anything, so Tommy reasoned that he must not have annoyed the man too much.

Still, just because he was Wilbur’s brother didn’t mean he could call Phil Dadza, not even as a joke. The only person he felt comfortable doing that with was Sam. For no particular reason. At all.

Ghostbur broke the awkward silence with, “I didn’t know we were having more visitors today!”

Technoblade frowned. “We’re not. Tommy isn’t even supposed to be here.”

Tommy tensed. Something was wrong. Why was something already wrong? Technoblade and Phil had only shown up ten fucking seconds ago!

“Really?” Ghostbur asked. “Then what are they doing here?”

Dream, Tommy immediately panicked. He stumbled back, his knuckles white around his trident. Phil looked to Tommy in alarm before joining Ghostbur by the window.

“Uh…” Phil pulled away from the window. “Mate, we’ve got company.”

Technoblade seemed to understand something in Phil’s voice that Tommy didn’t, because the Axe of Peace was in his hand before anyone in the room could so much as blink. He glared down at Tommy accusingly. “Who did you lead here?”

Which… wasn’t an unreasonable assumption as Technoblade would put it. They’d just shown up to find Tommy in their house, and moments later someone--someones?--had arrived at their front door.

Still, reasonable as it was, “I didn’t lead anyone here!” Tommy managed. “I didn’t- fuck you!” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “No, not- I didn’t mean that, just- I really didn’t. I don’t know-”

“It’s L’Manburg,” Phil interrupted. “Fundy’s got my compass, Techno. I’m pretty sure Tommy didn’t have anything to do with this.”

Fundy. Fundy? Why did- why would Fundy-

“Technoblade!” an achingly familiar voice called. “Philza! Come out of the house! No weapons, we’re here to talk!”

Tubbo.

Phil’s brow furrowed. “Talk. I’m so sure.”

Tommy could barely hear anything over his own thoughts. “How did- I told Technoblade about the trial so he could get you out of L’Manburg, and you left behind a fucking compass?”

“I’ll admit,” Phil said, “not my smartest move. Techno?”

“Got it.” He moved towards the door, casting Tommy one last look. “Stay in the house. We don’t need you messing this up somehow.”

They were gone before Tommy could protest, but Ghostbur was quick to put a hand on his shoulder. “Tommy? Do you know why they’re here? What do they want with Phil and Techno?”

Tommy shook himself mentally. “They’re- Tubbo’s being a dickhead, that’s what.” He shrugged Ghostbur off and cautiously looked out the window. There were six people outside. Phil and Techno, obviously, and Tubbo, Fundy, Ranboo, and… “Quackity,” Tommy muttered. “Shit.”

“Big Q is here?” Ghostbur asked, his voice far too chipper for what was happening. “I haven’t seen him since Logstedshire!”

“Ghostbur,” Tommy said, his voice straining in his throat. “I need- I need you to shut up for a second. I need to think.”

The ghost blinked at him. “Think about what?”

“I have to fix this!” Tommy exclaimed. “I have to- Quackity and Tubbo aren’t going to give Techno a fair trial, I know they fucking won’t.” His free hand tugged at his hair. “How… I can’t stop the trial. How do I- how do I fix this?”

He could hear voices outside, and they seemed calm enough for the moment. That was good, Tommy thought, it meant that he had time. Time to think.

“If I can’t fix the trial,” Tommy thought aloud, “then I have to- have to fix the judge!” He began pacing. “But I can’t just ask Tubo, ‘Hey! Mind not being the judge for this trial?’ because he won’t listen.”

Ghostbur hummed. “What if you find a different judge? One that Tubbo would agree to?”

Tommy almost wanted to laugh. This was just the opposite of what Tommy was used to. Wilbur used to be the one that would talk, Wilbur was the one that paced around and voiced his thoughts, occasionally asking Tommy’s opinion on things.

“Tubbo wouldn’t agree to another judge,” Tommy said. “And I know Quackity wouldn’t. I…” He wasn’t good at this ‘thinking stuff through’ thing. This was Wilbur’s strong suit. Not his.

So… what would Wilbur do at a time like this?

“If I can’t get Tubbo to agree to a judge,” Tommy said slowly, “maybe… I can find one that he can’t argue with.” Strategize. Know your enemy. “A judge that follows Tubbo’s rules.”

“Great idea!” Ghostbur clapped his hands together. “So, what are Tubbo’s rules? How do trials work?”

Tommy pressed a hand to his forehead. He was used to being more impulsive than this. He wasn’t used to thinking about his actions this much. “Uh, yeah. Right. Tubbo was the judge for my trial, and I-” He frowned. Find the flaw. The loophole. The cracks in the foundation. “I… I committed a crime in the Greater Dream SMP.”

Ghostbur tilted his head. “Oh. Okay? What does that matter?”

“I committed a crime in the Greater Dream SMP,” Tommy said again, “but my trial was in L’Manburg because- because I lived there, I guess, so-” He stopped pacing, something clicking into place that hadn’t before. “Oh, Tubbo is gonna hate me for this.” He started towards the door. “Quackity, too. They’re both gonna be so fucking pissed off.”

“What?” Ghostbur said in surprise. “Why would they be angry?”

Tommy paused before opening the door. “Because the rightful judge to Technoblade’s trial… they’re a bit of a fucking traitor, Ghostbur,” He took a breath. “And I think I’m about to be one, too.”

Notes:

Awesamdad, pog? Just wanted to throw that little bit in there in the beginning, as a treat.

Also, if you guys haven't noticed, Tommy is starting to get better at thinking things through. He's not quite used to it, but he's getting there. Strategizing and shit, knowing your enemy... kinda. kinda reminds you of someone, huh? Don't worry, Wilbur being mentioned a lot in this chapter has absolutely nothing to do with it.

Bonus points to whoever can guess Tommy's new judge!

Chapter 30: Friend and/or Foe

Notes:

This was going to be another Tubbo POV, but I decided... nah. Here's some Technoblade POV for you because I haven't done one in a while and I love writing this bastard even though I literally don't like his character at all, he's fucking. eh. terrorist.

I love that Tommy healing means that he's more open about what happened to him, because it's part of the recovery process he's undergoing with Sam's help, and that means more people understand what happened to him *far* earlier than they knew in canon. It makes the life of me so fun, because I get to write fun interactions like Tommy being absolutely, *justifiably* pissed off.

Tommy deserves to be angry, and I stand by that.

Technolade hated talking in circles. Which made talking to L’Manburg’s little- what was it? Butcher Army? He was pretty sure that was it but, honestly, he really wasn’t paying much attention to what any of them were saying. Not really worth the time and effort.

Butcher Army, BITCHer Army, bitch, bitch, bitch, e, Blood for the Blood Guard, bitch, eeeeee

Chat was also not helping.

“We told you to come out with no weapons,” Quackity said, for what had to be the hundredth time. Or maybe the fifth, Technoblade wasn’t counting.

“And I told you to get off my property,” Technoblade deadpanned for the fifth or hundredth time. “Looks like we’re both bad listeners.” The axe in his hand felt heavier than it should have. He really didn’t want to come out of retirement, but if L’Manburg was going to force his hand… well, he wasn’t entirely opposed to a good fight.

Phil, who held no weapon (Chat was protesting heavily, Technoblade needed to protect his friend, what was Phil doing without a weapon?), stepped forward with his hands in a placating gesture. “Come on, now. You’re sure we can’t talk this out?”

Tubbo’s expression barely changed. Mostly because the right side of his face never seemed to move properly anymore, but he was also far more stern than Technoblade remembered. He and a festival platform probably contributed to both of those equally. “Sorry, Phil,” Tubbo said calmly, “but L’Manburg doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Technoblade scowled. “I’m an anarchist,” he corrected.

Quackity scoffed. “Not by definition, you’re not.”

“Heh?” Technoblade didn’t like having his intelligence insulted. Implying that he’d incorrectly defined his core beliefs definitely felt like an insult.

isn’t he an english major?, L, anarchy yes pog, terrorism pog, Quackity a law student tho, anarcy, anarchy pog, Not Terrorism

Fundy and Ranboo hadn’t said much, Technolade noted. Fundy occasionally stole glances at Phil, but Ranboo seemed content to keep his gaze trained on the snow. Ranboo also wasn’t wearing one of those stupid aprons that the other three members of the army had on. Technolade, ever the fashion icon, approved of his choice to leave it off.

says the guy dressed like a monarch, yooo speaking of monarchs, like a king maybe lmao, no spoilers guys, a MONARCH you say?

A shout jolted him from his thoughts. Quackity was glaring at him and Tubbo’s eyes had narrowed nearly imperceptibly.

Right… there was a thing happening right now.

“If you won’t come with us to L’Manburg willingly,” Tubbo was saying, “then we’ll have no choice but to take you by force.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “You’ll take on both of us, then?”

Tubbo studied Phil for a moment. “No,” he decided. “You don’t have to return to L’Manburg, Philza. We have no qualms with you.”

“You misunderstand,” Phil said, his wings twitching slightly behind him. “If you’re going to try and force Techno to do anything, you’ll be dealing with both of us.”

Technoblade nearly smiled at the flash of fear in Fundy’s eyes. Quackity and Tubbo, to their credit, barely flinched at the threat. Ranboo, less to his credit, looked wildly uncomfortable. The enderman hybrid, Technoblade had found, was not a fan of conflict.

Shame. Because nearly everyone else on the server was.

“There’s really no other way?” Technoblade asked, his free hand already drifting to his inventory. He had more than enough potions for both Phil and him. Not that Technoblade would need any potions for a four on one fight, but it’d be entertaining if nothing else.

Blood for the Blood God!, are you not entertained?, blood yes, FINALLY, fight them, kill them, kill, kill, kill

“Wait!”

That voice… was a voice outside himself.

“Tommy, Techno said you’re supposed to stay in the house.”

Ghostbur, Technoblade realized. Tommy.

He turned to see Tommy exiting his house, Ghostbur in tow and protesting quietly. Tommy paid the ghost no mind and grinned at the gathered crowd of friends and enemies. “Ayup, bitches.”

Tubbo seemed to pale at the sight of Tommy, the first hint of expression Technoblade had seen on the teenager since the army’s arrival. “What the fuck- Tommy?”

Tommy’s grip around his trident tightened, but the easy smile on his face remained. “Hello, Tubbo,” he said. “Sorry, but I’m gonna have to ask you to back down. Like, now, actually.”

Something like betrayal filled Tubbo’s expression, barely concealed by his even response. “I’m afraid I can’t do that Tommy,” he said coolly. “I’m surprised that you’re defending Technoblade, of all people.”

Ghostbur drifted close to Technoblade and Phil. “I think Tommy has a plan,” he whispered. “I think he’s trying to help.”

Phil glanced at Technoblade. “How good is Tommy at ‘helping’?”

“Eh,” Technoblade replied. “Not great.”

“Very!” Ghostbur disagreed. “Tommy is very good at helping, Phil. You’ll see.” Technoblade was thankful that the citizens of L’Manburg were too wrapped up with Tommy’s sudden appearance to pay any attention to their conversation.

“Tommy,” Quackity interjected. And he looked… surprisingly rattled by Tommy’s presence. “Tommy, what are you doing here, man? You know that we-” His gaze darted between Technoblade and Tommy for a moment. “Whatever you’re doing, you need to stop.”

Tommy straightened a bit. “Kinda tired of people telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing, Big Q.” Quackity looked stunned, but Tommy continued without giving him a chance to respond. “Besides, you’re the ones that need to stop.”

Tubbo seemed to shake himself out of his shock. “You don’t- Tommy, this doesn’t concern you. It’s none of your business, and you need to leave.”

“Oh, but it is my business, Tubbo, my good friend!” Tommy said cheerfully. “See, because- and let me see if I’ve remembered this right.” He leaned against his trident. “I seem to remember my citizenship being reinstated with a trade I didn’t condone. Which means L’Manburg business is, in fact, my business and I have a right to speak on the matter.”

Both Fundy and Ranboo turned to look at Tubbo in surprise. “Since when has Tommy’s citizenship been reinstated?” Fundy asked. Realizing that Quackity had yet to react, he followed with, “Quackity, did you know?”

“Did I know about Tubbo giving the green bastard Tommy’s other disc?” Quackity glared at Tubbo, who was pointedly looking at Tommy and no one else. “Yeah. I fucking know.”

Tubbo’s good eye twitched. “We’re getting off topic,” he gritted out. “Tommy, state your concern, so we can move on with the trial.”

Tommy sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, see, that’s where I’ve got a problem, Big T.”

“I hear Sam was the one that pushed for the trial,” Tubbo said, and it sounded like an accusation. “Am I to assume that you disagree with him?”

“You are to assume that interrupting me is fucking rude,” Tommy corrected.

The goat hybrid tilted his head. “Apologies. I hadn’t realized talking over people was rude.” And that was a jab if Technoblade ever heard one. Admittedly, it was kind of funny to watch the inseparable Tommy and Tubbo have something resembling an argument. “It’s almost as though I should be more considerate.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe if you listened to people once in a while, they might not feel like they need to shout to be heard.”

“Maybe if people learned to follow incredibly simple rules, I would be more inclined to listen.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t make promises that you don’t plan to fucking keep,” Tommy shot back, his voice still unnervingly even. Tommy must not have been kidding about toning it down with the fighting. “Like, if you’re gonna send them away, maybe don’t tell them that you aren’t. Basic etiquette, I think. But what do I know?”

Tubbo’s temper, on the other hand, seemed to flare. “That is not fair-”

Phil raised a hand. “Do we still need to be here for this conversation?”

“Yeah,” Fundy agreed. “I’m with Phil. Do we need to leave, or…?”

the girls are fighting!, oh shit, Clingy Duo ain’t so clingy anymore

“Stay!” Tommy and Tubbo both snapped, and nobody moved.

Tommy cleared his throat, apparently regaining his composure. He even went as far as putting his trident back in his inventory. “Anyway. I don’t disagree with Sam about the trial. I disagree on your choice of judge.”

Quackity let out a startled laugh. “What the fuck is that- Tommy, what does that even mean? You can’t- no. That’s not how this works. Tubbo is the judge, he’s the president of L’Manburg.” Technoblade was still so amused by how off-put Quackity seemed by Tommy’s presence.

They must have gotten close during Tommy’s time away from L’Manburg. It was the only explanation Technoblade could come up with for the almost betrayed look on Quackity’s face.

Tommy tsked. “Yeah, but Technoblade’s trial isn’t under jurisdiction of L’Manburg.”

“He released withers in our country,” Fundy protested. “His crime was committed in L’Manburg, I’d say that puts it under our jurisdiction.”

“I’d agree with you,” Tommy said. “Except that my crime was committed in the Greater Dream SMP.”

“Our crime,” Ranboo spoke up suddenly. “Our crime, Tommy.”

Tommy waved him off. “Our crime, whatever.” Technoblade made a note that Ranboo was decidedly not exiled. Which was interesting, and only further proof that L’Manburg had screwed over Tommy, and the teenager was oblivious to it.

Maybe a little less oblivious than he was before, but still.

“My point,” Tommy continued, “and I do have one, Tubbo, don’t give me that fucking look.” His fingers twitched at his side. Fidgeting, nervous. “My trial was under L’Manburg’s jurisdiction because I lived in L’Manburg.”

child is smart, smart child, he’s Wilbur’s brother guys of course he’s smart

“So,” Tommy drawled, “according to- to you, actually. These are your rules, Mr. President. And… Mr. President’s cabinet. So you can’t- yeah, just… you can’t fucking ignore me about this.”

“Tommy,” Quackity said, something like a warning in his voice.

Tommy disregarded it. “Technoblade’s trial is under jurisdiction of the Greater Dream SMP,” he said, confidence slipping into his voice, even as he stood between two anarchists and four representatives of a country that had exiled him. “He lives in the Greater Dream SMP, so. The judge of the trial is actually King Eret. Not you.”

Tubbo gave Tommy a blank stare. “You’re really doing this.”

“Give me a reason not to,” Tommy said. And he did genuinely look like he was asking Tubbo to stop him somehow, but judging by everyone’s expression, there wasn’t a single person gathered that could have disagreed with Tommy.

Because… Tommy’s logic was sound. It was fair. Which was more than Technoblade could say for L’Manburg.

Ghostbur leaned closer to Phil. “Why is everyone upset?” he whispered. Or tried to. Ghostbur, soft-spoken as he was, never did a very good job of whispering. And sound carried in the empty snow biome, his voice easily heard by everyone present.

“Well,” Tubbo bit out. “It appears I need to have a chat with King Eret, then.”

“Seems we both will,” Tommy corrected. “Gonna need a representative of… since I’m still technically a citizen of the Greater Dream SMP, I’ll be coming with you.”

Tubbo spluttered. “Representative of the Greater Dream SMP? What the fuck does that- what happened to your citizenship to L’Manburg being reinstated?”

“I still live in the Greater Dream SMP, dickhead,” Tommy defended. “Fucking- it’s like a dual citizenship.” He set his jaw. “Yep. Dual citizenship is exactly what I’m calling that, yeah. So. Fucking deal with it. I’m coming with you to talk to Eret.”

The two teenagers stared at each other.

Ranboo gave an awkward cough. “Dual citizenship is a thing, technically speaking. Tommy’s right about that.” 

“Of course, I’m right,” Tommy said. “I’m always- I mean, I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Okay,” Tubbo said testily. “I’ll send a message to Eret. Am I to not assume you want this done and over with as quickly as possible?”

Tommy nodded. “You are to not assume correctly. The quicker we deal with this, the better.”

what even is this conversation, they speak another language, such is the way of best friends, the girls are STILL fighting

Technoblade willed Chat to shut up so he could focus.

“Fine,” was Tubbo’s short reply, already turning to leave.

“Fine,” Tommy mirrored his tone, which Tubbo didn’t seem to appreciate much, but Technoblade found hilarious.

Ghostbur tilted his head at the departing citizens of L’Manburg. “So… are you still going on trial, then, Techno?”

no, no, nope, no, nuh-huh, over Techno’s dead body, nooooo, Technoblade never dies!

“Good question,” Technoblade crossed his arms. “Tommy.” The teenager continued to watch his retreating friend. Quackity had turned once to glance back at Tommy. He almost looked hurt. “Tommy, what makes you think I would want to attend this trial?”

“You’re going to.” And the anger Technoblade had been expecting to see directed at Tubbo was now fully focused on him. “You’re going to, because you’re a right bastard and you deserve to be on fucking trial.”

Phil reeled, clearly unused to Tommy’s anger. “Mate, what the hell-”

“Philza,” Tommy interrupted, “respectfully, shut up.” His gaze returned to Technoblade. “You’re going through with this trial because I know what will happen to L’Manburg if you don’t. If you don’t, L’Manburg will fight, and if they do that? You’ll fight back, and I don’t want a repeat of November 16th.”

Technoblade snorted. “Should have guessed. Always looking out for your good friend Tubbo, right?”

“I told you from the very beginning that I’m not doing this to help you,” Tommy reminded him. “Telling you about Phil, fixing your stupid fucking trial, none of this was for you. I couldn’t care less about you.”

Ghostbur winced. “That’s not very nice, Tommy.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Technoblade doesn’t give a shit about me, either. This is for mutual benefit.”

“And what makes you think Eret would be any fairer than Tubbo?” Phil asked.

“Right,” Technoblade agreed. “What guarantee do I have that Eret won’t sentence me to an execution just like L’Manburg would have?”

The teenager heaved a sigh, like he was the one dealing with an angry, petulant child. “Because Eret is a firm believer in second chances. And they’re not one for killing, not after what happened in the Final Control Room.”

Phil inhaled sharply. “After… after Wilbur-?”

“No,” Tommy glared at Phil, “before that, dickhead. Eret pushed the button before Wilbur ever did. They destroyed L’Manburg the first time and… and Tubbo, Wilbur, and I got killed by-” He huffed. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, Eret won’t fucking kill you, and that’s all you need to worry about.”

Technoblade considered for a moment. It was true that he was only fighting against the trial so hard because he knew L’Manburg would execute him (or attempt to), but if Tommy was that Eret wouldn’t… maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to attend.

He was supposed to be retired, after all. A peaceful resolution to this mess would probably benefit him more than starting a fight would. Then he could go back to his quiet days with Phil and his turtle farm.

“Fine,” Technoblade relented. “I’ll attend the dumb trial. But if anyone tries anything-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Tommy muttered. “You’ll blow up L’Manburg or something. But you won’t, because Eret will do the trial, and they won’t kill you, so you’ll be fine.” Technoblade noticed Tommy’s voice steadily increasing in volume. “And if you’re fine, then L’Manburg will be fine, and everything will be fine. My friends will be safe and everyone’s fucking happy, so it’s fine.”

Ghostbur blinked. “You don’t sound happy, Tommy.”

Tommy paused to catch his breath, winded from his rant, before answering. “Who cares if I’m happy?” He turned so that he was facing away from them. “I don’t- people like me don’t get to be happy. Isn’t that right, Blade? We just live our stupid stories and die.”

Phil’s brow furrowed. “That’s… a rather bitter outlook on life, mate.”

“Yeah?” Tommy grumbled. “Well, take it up with your friend, there. He’s the one who told me to die.”

you wanna be a hero?, the 16th was a great day, die like a hero, Tommy said no one’s the hero, no one’s the hero, Little Atlas with the world on his shoulders, heroes don’t get happy endings, die like one!, Achilles, Theseus, Atlas, the Greeks knew the score

“I’m going home,” Tommy said, suddenly sounding drained and far more tired than he had when Technoblade first caught him in the house. “I’ll… I’ll see you wat the trial or- fucking whenever, I guess. I don’t care.”

He was walking away before anyone could answer. Phil looked like he was still processing, and Chat was still spamming Greek myths in his head, but he couldn’t help but address one thing the voices wouldn’t leave him alone about. “Tommy.”

Tommy stopped walking, but he didn’t turn.

“There’s a tower in Logstedshire, whatever’s left of it.” Technoblade was trying to ignore Phil’s questioning gaze burning into the side of his skull. “What was it for?”

cobblestone tower, a child and his tower what will he do?, you already know what the tower was for, you know, you just don’t want to believe it, you already know

There was a moment of silence. Then Tommy said, “I looked into that story. The one about Theseus?” He still didn’t turn. Technoblade was grateful for it, because he couldn’t even begin to predict what emotions would be behind those gray eyes. “The end of the story’s a funny one, you know, because there’s actually two.”

“Lycomedes pushed Theseus off a cliff,” Technoblade supplied.

“Yeah, well, some versions say Lycomedes never actually pushed him.” Tommy began walking away again, and Technoblade swore up and down that nothing about Tommy’s indifference unnerved him. “Sometimes Theseus just jumped.”

The implications of that were less than pleasant. Even if Technoblade didn’t care about Tommy--which he really didn't, no offense to the kid--the thought of… suicide, essentially… was still a heavy topic from a sixteen year old.

It put the cobblestone tower into perspective for him, in any case. Again, not that he particularly cared, but he was beginning to think Dream was a worse person than people believed, and Technoblade already believed that he was a rather shady little teletubby.

“That doesn’t sound like a very happy story,” Ghostbur muttered as Tommy walked away, and Technoblade could already tell that the ghost would forget this moment, probably sometime within the next few minutes.

Phil shook his head slowly. “No, it certainly doesn’t.” Technoblade was still trying to avoid looking at either one of them, and instead focused on Tommy.

“Because it’s not,” Technoblade said. “It’s not a happy story, Phil.”

but you already knew that, Chat whispered, you already knew

Notes:

Writer Brain: write a Foster AU
Me: What? No.
Writer Brain: Superhero AU go brrrrrrr-
Me: There is. literally so many of them already.
Writer Brain: BRRRRRRRRR-

I can't make my brain focus on anything, I'm gonna. For personal reasons, I will be yeeting myself into the nearest void, thank you. Can I form a coherent thought? Or do I just need to go to sleep? The answer is. no. No Think, Head Empty. Don't ask me where my brain is, because I don't fucking know either. I tried to capitalize the 2 in 2.19 earlier today. Like, almost genuinely cried because I couldn't remember how to capitalize the number 2. Jeffrey Bezos spaceship shaped like dick and I'm. cannot stop my laughing. been laughing about it for ten minutes.

Do I have anything of actual importance to say? ... Quackity upset. Tubbo angy. Ranboo is mildly concerned, and Fundy is very confused. Which runs in the family, apparently, because Phil is also confused. To anyone who guessed King Eret was going to be the judge in the last chapter, congrats on the bonus points.

Chapter 31: Two Sides

Notes:

This chapter and the next one are going to be a little shorter, but hopefully that means it won't take too long before I get the next one out. It's mostly just a peek into Tubbo and Tommy's perspective on what just occurred.

Repression Boy vs. Aggression Boy, let's gooooo

Tommy had looked happier. He hadn’t looked that happy since before Pogtopia. Which, Tubbo supposed, was the worst part of the situation, because that meant that nothing Tommy said came from a place of anger or resentment, it simply came from Tommy.

He was aware of how awful that sounded. Tommy looked something resembling healthy, the bags under his eyes only slightly lighter than he remembered them, but still. And Tubbo was mad. He was angry. Because every goddamn thing that Tommy said had made sense, and it was infuriating.

The Tommy he knew wasn’t like that. The Tommy he knew didn’t care about rules and probably would have encouraged the execution of Technoblade.The Tommy he knew… wasn’t that put together, and he was always the first to lose his composure.

Tubbo heaved an aggravated sigh and readjusted the grip on his axe. The boundaries of L’Manburg were in sight, and Tubbo still didn’t feel any less angry. “So, that didn’t go as planned.”

“No fucking kidding,” Fundy muttered. “We went all the way out there just to be stopped by Tommy. Who would have thought, huh?”

“Not stopped,” Quackity reminded as they started making their way towards the White House. “This is just a minor setback. We’ll still get our justice for L’Manburg.”

Quackity’s enthusiasm wasn’t shared. “Who is Eret, again? Ranboo asked. “I think I remember hearing the name somewhere, but I’m not really sure who they are.”

Fundy grunted. “Fucking king of the Greater Dream SMP. Has been since the first war for L’Manburg.” He glowered at the ground as they walked. “George took over for a while, but Dream dethroned sometime around Tommy getting exiled, so they’re back in power.”

“Aren’t Dream and George friends?” Ranboo asked in surprise. “Kinda seemed like it, when they were trying to put Tommy and me on trial.” How many times in one day did Tubbo need to be reminded that Tommy wasn’t the sole offender of what happened to George’s house? “Dream definitely seemed defensive after our… bit of crime.”

Our crime, our crime, our crime- “They are friends,” Tubbo answered, trying to push aside his thoughts. “We’re not sure why Dream dethroned George, but they’ve always been on the same side. Always. We can assume they’re still friends, at the very least.”

Quackity snorted. “I doubt it,” he said. “Just because you and Tommy can fuck each other over and still be friends, doesn’t mean everyone else is that tolerant. I wouldn’t be surprised if George is hanging out with Sapnap or something just avoiding the guy.”

“Speaking of Dream,” Fundy piped up, “the Courthouse is in the Greater Dream SMP, right? Does that mean Dream might attend?”

Tubbo took a breath, somewhat struggling to keep up with the conversation. “It’s a possibility,” he said slowly. “We should probably prepare for the worst, but if Tommy plans to attend, we can pretty much guarantee that Dream will make an appearance.”

“Wonder why,” Quackity muttered. “It’s not like he has a weird obsession with controlling Tommy or anything.”

“Yes, thank you, Quackity,” Tubbo snapped. “Dream and Tomy’s rivalry has been duly noted.” He glared at Quackity. “And I know that you’re just as angry as the rest of us about this, so if you could stop pretending that you’re perfectly calm about Tommy fucking up our plans, that’d be great.”

Quackity raised an eyebrow. “I never said I wasn’t mad. Of course I’m fucking mad.” He pushed open the door to the meeting room. “But there are better people to be angry at than Tommy.”

Fundy shrugged. “Yeah, I’m kind of with Quackity.” He slipped into the meeting room and collapsed into the nearest chair. “I mean, Tommy kinda just fucked up our plans, but… he has a point. It’s frustrating, but he’s right, if Technoblade was gonna have a trial, it’s under Eret’s jurisdiction.”

Tubbo huffed and took his spot at the head of the table. “Fine, I’ll concede that Tommy has a point, but this complicates things.”

“Does it?” Quackity asked, pulling his own chair up to sit down. “All this really does is turn this from L’Manburg putting Technoblade on trial to… a L’Manburg vs. Technoblade trial. Which, we can still totally win.” He grinned. “I could even be our lawyer.”

Ranboo, sitting awkwardly in all his lanky glory, tilted his head. “Are you a lawyer?”

Quackity made a vague noise. “Kind of. I am studying law.”

“I thought you were a businessman,” Fundy said.

“I was more inclined to believe you were a politician,” Tubbo added.

Quackity gave them all an odd look. “Right. And as… all of those things, it’s kind of important for me to know the law.”

Tubbo blinked. “I mean, I guess that’s true, I just… yeah, that makes sense, actually.” He nodded to himself. “Okay. I’ll tell Eret you’re representing L’Manburg for the trial.” He laced his fingers together. “I suppose the real question would be who would represent Technoblade.”

“Phil, maybe?” Ranboo offered. “He seems the most likely.”

Fundy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. The stubborn bastard would probably try to represent himself.”

“He could,” Quackity said. “Technically. It’s probably not gonna work out for him, but he definitely could.” A smile crept across his face. “And, hey! Anything that doesn’t work out for Technoblade is just better news for us, right?”

“A bit vindictive there, huh?” Fundy joked.

Quackity scoffed. “Come on, this has always been a little vindictive.” He shot Tubbo a smile. “Isn’t that right, Mr. President?”

Tubbo, all at once, realized he wasn’t supposed to be the angry one. Or the vindictive one. He was meant to be the president, with duties and responsibilities that couldn’t be hindered by things so trivial as an argument with his friend. “No,” he replied simply. “This is about consequences.”

“Okay, sure,” Quackity agreed. “But it’s also just a little bit about revenge.”

“I don’t think anything should be fueled by revenge,” Tubbo said stubbornly. He could admit to himself that seeing Technoblade executed would be something like catharsis, but he wasn’t so bold as to admit it aloud. “I’m the president, Quackity. I’m not supposed to be that biased.”

“It could definitely be both,” Fundy pointed out. “It’s not like anyone can blame you.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, apparently Tommy can blame me, because he seems hellbent on making this as difficult as possible.”

Quackity hummed. “Yeah, that’s a bit of a problem.” Irritation flashed across his features for a moment, then vanished just as fast. “But, again, it’s not like he’s wrong, it’s just-”

“He’s just being reckless,” Tubbo interrupted, feeling anger worm its way back into his words. “He doesn’t understand how important this is.”

“I don't think that’s very fair,” Ranboo said quietly. “Didn’t seem reckless to me. Sounded like he thought about it, at least a little bit.”

Ranboo was right, of course, but that didn’t mean Tubbo had to like it. “Still,” he leaned back in his chair, trying to school his expression, “it doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation. And the- the dual citizenship? It’s ridiculous.”

Fundy made an unsure noise. “Is it? It’s not like he asked you to reinstate his citizenship to L’Manburg or anything. And he does live in the Greater Dream SMP, technically, so it seems pretty legit.”

Tommy didn't- Tommy didn't ask? Is that what everyone was so hung up about? Is that what Tommy was so hung up about? His citizenship being reinstated with... 'a trade he didn't condone'? “But it’s L’Manburg,” Tubbo said. “Since when does Tommy do anything that goes against L’Manburg?”

Fundy shrugged. “Things change. We can’t expect Tommy to go off-grid for a few months and still be exactly the same.”

Couldn’t they? Couldn’t they expect Tommy to be exactly the same? Couldn’t Tubbo expect his best friend, Tommy, who hadn’t changed a bit since Wilbur’s drug van, to be the same person he had been for ages? Tommy never changed. Tommy was stubborn and never, ever changed.

And part of Tubbo appreciated that. Because Tubbo did have to change. Tubbo had to be a soldier and spy and a president, but he could always rely on stubborn, abrasive, loyal Tommy to never leave his side, no matter what--or who--he had to become.

“I mean, the guy apparently cares about trial etiquette now,” the fox hybrid continued. “Since when does Tommy care about something like trial etiquette?”

“If I had to guess,” Quackity said thoughtfully, “I’d say it was right around the time a trial fucked him over and got him exiled.”

Tubbo stood so fast that his chair nearly toppled back. “Bring up exile one more time, Quackity, I dare you.” There was a sick kind of satisfaction in the way Quackity recoiled. “Because if we’re gonna start bringing up shit, I’ve got a festival we could discuss.”

For a few tense seconds, no one moved, and then Ranboo spoke up with, “I think we all need to, uh… take a breather maybe?”

“Yeah,” Tubbo responded coolly, “I think that would be best.”

Quackity stood. “Fine. Update us when you go and see Eret.” He jerked his for Fundy to follow him and the fox immediately stood, not needing a second prompting to escape the awkward silence.

Tubbo sighed harshly as Fundy and Quackity exited, turning away so that he didn’t have to see the door shut. It didn’t slam, but Tubbo almost wished that it did. He wished the door sounded as angry as he did. But it was quiet and final, a very firm good-bye.

Fine, Tommy had said. No yelling. Quiet and final.

The room was silent again, but it certainly wasn’t empty. “Ranboo,” Tubbo said, his voice tight with lingering emotion. “What are you still doing here?”

“Well,” Ranboo said. “I said that you needed a breather, not that you needed to be alone.” Tubbo could hear Ranboo getting up out of his chair. “Tubbo, are you- are you doing okay? I know you’re frustrated about… Techno and everything, but-”

“I’m fine,” Tubbo interrupted. “There’s just too much going on, and I can’t- I can’t deal with… Quackity just won’t shut up about exile and everyone constantly throwing my mistakes in my face.” He ran a hand over his face. “But it’s fine. I’m fine.”

A hand on his shoulder stole away some of the tension there. Usually, he’d flinch, but not with Ranboo. “It’s okay if you’re not fine, you know.”

Tubbo shook his head. He couldn’t expect Ranboo to understand. “I am fine,” he insisted. “Just needed a breather. Like you said.”

“Okay,” Ranboo said agreeably. “I’m still not leaving. You know, just in case there was… something else you wanted to discuss, maybe? Like- and not to be too specific, but you seem pretty torn up about Tommy.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo uttered. “Having a friend disappear on you fucking sucks.”

Ranboo nodded. “I know. Tommy was my friend, too. You and Tommy were my first friends, actually, and it- it kinda sucks seeing you guys… almost fighting?”

“We’re not fighting,” Tubbo said immediately. “We aren’t.” They couldn’t be. They were Tommy and Tubbo. It was them versus the world not each other. And if Tubbo just ignored the way Tommy had looked at him, composed and calm and something like anger burning behind it all, then he could ignore the way his own composure seemed to be crumbling in the face of it.

He was fine. He could shove aside the unfamiliarity of it all, he could push away the thought of Tommy simply turning away from him. He could bottle it all up, and he could deal with it later, when he had the time and the energy.

Ranboo hummed. “Okay, not- not fighting, but you know what I mean.”

Tubbo closed his eyes. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He gave himself a moment in the dark, sorting his thoughts in the quiet of Ranboo’s presence, and then opened his eyes again. “But Tommy is my best friend. We’ll figure it out.”

And, god, he sure hoped they figured it out. Because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if they didn’t.

Notes:

Tubbo: I'll just keep all my feelings right here, and then one day I'll die.
Ranboo: I would prefer if you didn't, please just talk to me.

Tommy POV next time. Tubbo has Ranboo, and Tommy has Sam, and they both have a lot of *feelings*

Chapter 32: Same Coin

Notes:

Remember when I said that it hopefully wouldn't take too long to get the next chapter out? Yeah, so, apparently what I meant by that was: "Today you get two chapters".

Tubbo had looked angrier. He hadn’t looked that angry since Tommy’s sentencing. Which, Tommy supposed, was probably the worst part about the situation, because that meant most of what made Tubbo angry was just Tommy himself, even though they were supposed to be best friends.

He was aware how awful that should make him feel. How upset that he should be by Tubbo’s tense shoulders and clipped responses, the bags under his friend’s eyes were darker than he remembered. But he was just mad. Because no matter what he did, Tubbo still refused to listen to a goddamn thing he said.

The Tubbo he knew wasn’t like that. The Tubbo he knew wasn’t so hellbent on revenge that he’d ignore his best friend and regard him as nothing more than a mildly annoying acquaintance. The Tubbo he knew… was more put together than that, and he was always the first to hear Tommy out.

Tommy kicked angrily at a rock as he walked. “Fucking- whatever. Whatever! I know I’m doing the right thing,” he muttered at the open air. “Fuck Tubbo, stubborn- and he’s says I’m stubborn! Me! Dickhead. A right dickhead, he’s being.”

It was frustrating. Everything was, no matter how many times Tommy told himself that it was fine and everything would work out for the best.

The hill in front of him was frustrating, Tommy losing his footing every so often as he went from ledge to ledge. “Oh, you know I didn’t want to exile you, Tommy!” he said in a bad mockery of Tubbo’s voice. “You know I didn’t want to, you know that!” He huffed and jumped off the top of the hill, throwing down his water bucket and just barely landing. “Well maybe I don’t want to be working with Blade! Huh? Think of that, Tubbo? You fucking- fuck!”

He continued to seethe all the way to Sam’s, and everything that could have possibly inconvenienced him seemed to appear as he walked. A lone skeleton, a few creepers (only one of which actually exploded and it was nowhere near him), and it was frustrating. All the little things. The big things. The- the everything. All of it.

The button to Sam’s door clicked quietly when Tommy pushed. Too quiet, and not angry enough. He couldn’t slam a button. Too loud, and not silent enough. He couldn’t stand the extra noise alongside his thoughts.

Sam was there to greet him, petting Fran in the main area of the base. His smile was warm. Too warm and kind. Tommy hated it. “Hey, Tommy.” Too warm, and not warm enough. How could Sam be so kind when Tommy was struggling to keep himself from exploding?

“Fuck you,” Tommy snapped. Be angry, he wanted to beg. I need something to explode before I do. “No, that’s not- that’s not what I meant.” He closed the door behind him. “Sorry, I’m just- whatever. It’s fine.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough for Sam. “Tommy, are you okay?”

Tommy waved him off. “Nothing! I mean- yes, I’m fine. I’m okay.” He struggled to take off his cloak. “I just- I need a second. Why are there- there’s so many fucking things, Sam, and I can’t-”

“Hey,” Sam reached out and unclasped Tommy’s cloak. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Puffy had said something about that, Tommy remembered. “Yeah,” he managed. “Yeah, just- I need a minute.” He threw the offending cloak on the ground. It was annoying him. He picked it back up and again and put it in his inventory, because it was too annoying to leave it on the ground.

He wasn’t supposed to be annoying anymore.

Tommy paced around the room for a moment, ignoring Fran trying to keep up with him. “I’m calm. I’m being calm. I’m calm and not angry, because I’m not supposed to- and I’m better now, right? I’m better. Yeah. I’m fucking pogchamp.”

“You can still be angry,” Sam amended. “It’s not fair to say that you can’t ever be angry.”

“I’m not!” Tommy said. “I’m not,” he said again, quieter. “I- I’m being nice and fucking calm. Very put together because I’m just- I’m the biggest man ever.”

Sam leaned against a nearby wall and let Tommy pace. “Very put together,” he agreed. “You’re doing a good job of not lashing out.”

Tommy felt the irritation subside a bit. He was doing better. Even if he didn’t- even if he didn’t feel much better right that moment. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Just… okay. I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Sam asked.

“No,” Tommy admitted. “Because I don’t get- fucking Tubbo is being a dickhead. Again. And I didn’t even do anything this time.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Not that- and the thing he got pissed off at me for last time, fucking burning George’s house, was an accident, actually, but I didn’t even do anything on accident this time.”

Sam tilted his head. “Something happen at Technoblade’s?”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah! What a coincidence, huh? What a fucking coincidence. He had this fucking army thing coming for Techno, after- fuck! After I already said that it was a bad idea!” He stopped and pointed at Sam. “And you know what? You know what else is a fucking coincidence?”

Fran butted her head against Tommy’s leg. Annoying, hindrance, it was interrupting his pacing. His irritation flared again. He stepped away from Fran.

“Tubbo has this- this whole thing he says, ‘You know why I exiled you, meh meh meh meh, I thought it was for the better. You know why I did it, you know I didn’t want to, Tommy.’ And I know! I do know! But why-” he struggled to catch his breath. “So it’s cool for Tubbo to do shit- like, shit he doesn’t want to do. Or says he doesn’t wanna to do. But I- I'm doing things for the better, too! Does he think I fucking want to help Techno?”

Sam didn’t respond. His gaze was even. Unwavering. Impassive. No, neutral. Something- whatever. Something. And Tommy didn’t know the word. Frustrating.

Tommy grit his teeth. “Not- that’s not even a coincidence, is it? That’s a fucking- hypocrisy, is what that is.” He turned to start pacing again. Fran didn’t follow him. “He’s being a fucking hypocrite! He gets to- and he fucks me over with exile, and I’m not- I’m not angry, okay? You told me- and I’m not.”

“Tommy,” Sam said softly. “You know you are allowed to be angry, right? You just can’t lash out at people.”

“Well, where’s the fucking line?” Tommy demanded. “When do I- how do I know what- when’s the right time to be mad? When- whatever!” He waved his hands around, frantically batting away feelings that he didn’t know what to do with. “That’s not the fucking point, I just- what was I even-”

“Something happened at Technoblade’s,” Sam supplied.

“Yes! Yeah, fucking that.” Tommy shook his head. “So Tubbo shows up, with Fundy and Quackity and- and fucking Ranboo, who didn’t even look like he wanted to be there, and they’re- and Technoblade wasn't having it, obviously, but they shouldn’t have even been able to find Technoblade, but Phil left behind a fucking compass, like an idiot.

“And they start talking about a trial! Which- was that your idea?” Tommy sighed and stopped pacing. “Never mind. Who cares, it’s- the trial was a good idea. It is. Except, and no offense to Quackity, but he’s kind of a bastard, and he wouldn’t have given Technoblade a fair trial.”

Sam hummed. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

Tommy felt his frustration start to ebb away again. “Right. I know. So I say, and this really pissed Tubbo off, I think, but I said that he can’t be the judge for Techno’s trial.” He held up a hand before Sam could protest, because he was so sure that the creeper hybrid would. “Don’t! Don’t. I have- there’s a reason.”

“Okay,” was all Sam said.

Because Sam didn’t brush Tommy aside like that. He took a breath. “My trial- and Tubbo gets pissed off if I mention my trial, ever. Which is- that’s stupid, right? Because if anyone was gonna be mad, it should be me, right? But I’m not. Because I’m better. I’m better.”

“Again,” Sam interjected, “you are allowed to be mad.”

“Whatever,” Tommy said, because it would be too harsh to say shut up, fuck off, stop being so confusing. " Anyway, like I was fucking saying. I was saying... what- my trial!” Every nerve felt frayed, and hot to the touch. “My trial was in L’Manburg, even though my crime was in the- the Dream SMP. The Greater Dream SMP. But I lived in L’Manburg, so-”

Fran leaned against Tommy. He didn’t step away.

“I told Tubbo that technically-- technically --that Eret should be the judge for Techno’s trial.” He scratched Fran behind her ears. “Because he’s the king of the SMP, you know. So- and Technoblade does live in the Greater Dream SMP.”

“He does.” Sam pushed himself away from the wall. “Sounds like you were right to bring it up.”

And Tommy felt… vindicated? Relieved. “I was- I am right. I’m absolutely right, because I’m the biggest man on the server, and I’m never wrong.” He moved to sit down on the couch, Fran still close to his side. “Except- except for when I am wrong, which is… hardly ever, but definitely not today.”

Sam joined Tommy on the couch. “Definitely not today.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “So… I take it you’re gonna have to talk to Eret about this?”

“Probably tomorrow, yeah?” Tommy flopped against the back of the couch. Fran moved to sit in his lap. It was warm, pleasantly so, the weight of her presence a comfort. “Dunno. Probably gonna have to talk to Tubbo about it. Which will be fucking annoying.” Or he was annoying. One of the two.

Didn’t matter.

“Tommy,” came Sam’s gentle voice to interrupt Tommy’s spiraling thoughts. “What’s got you so worked up?”

That was where Tommy struggled. Because he wasn’t actually sure, he just felt. “It kind of… I mean-” he started, stumbled on the words, then, “it kind of sounded like Wilbur, when I said it,” he admitted. “You know, before he- before Pogtopia? And it felt… good? Is that bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said reassuringly. “Wilbur wasn’t always bad, right?”

“I guess,” Tommy willed the uncertainty in his voice to stop making his voice waver. “But Tubbo said- I told him not to be the next Schlatt, because he was being weird with his whole… thinking that other people were undermining his authority. Or something.” He crossed his arms. “And, uh… he said if he couldn’t be the next Schlatt, then I couldn’t be the next Wilbur.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, well, you’re not becoming the next Wilbur,” he said reassuringly. “Wilbur was angry and unreasonable. But you’re not being unreasonable. You’re just angry, and that’s okay.”

“I’m not angry,” Tommy said quickly. “I mean, I just- Tubbo makes it seem like I shouldn’t be.”

“Well, you can,” Sam told him, “and you’re allowed to be.”

Tommy closed his eyes for a moment, fighting off yet another wave of frustration. “Okay, but I still don’t get when it’s okay to be mad, like- can I be mad at Tubbo? Or Quackity?” Fran rolled over to lean into Tommy’s hand. “Where’s the line? When am I allowed to be mad?”

“Depends,” Sam mused. “Whenever things are difficult, I guess. Or unfair or-”

“Nothing’s ever fair, Sam,” Tommy said. “Everything is difficult and nothing is fair, and I can’t always be mad, so when… when do I get to be fucking mad?” He needed to know. He wanted to be better, so he needed to know.

When could he be angry? When did the anger become justifiable and not a knee-jerk reaction? When was it fair and not childish? When was anger acceptable? Because, according to Tubbo, the answer was never.

Sam hesitated. “You… you’re right, Tommy,” he said softly. “A lot has happened, and you have every right to be mad about it. I can see how that could be frustrating.”

Yes, frustrating. It was always such a relief when Sam could say what Tommy was feeling or thinking or trying to say but couldn’t. “So, what do I fucking do?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “I don’t have all the answers. I don’t think anyone does.”

“Great,” Tommy murmured.

Sam reached out and ruffled Tommy’s hair. Tommy would have flinched if it was anyone else. If it were Dream or Wilbur, but not Sam. Sam was warm and kind and safe. “Wait until after the trial, okay? It sounds like maybe you and Tubbo just need to talk some things out.”

Tommy heaved a sigh, feeling the tension leave him and the last of his frustration fade into something more tolerable. “I hope so,” he said. “I really hope so, Sam.”

And, god, he sure hoped they could talk this out. Because he was just so fucking tired of being angry.

Notes:

I am very excited to write Eret POV. I am very, VERY excited to write Eret POV. I am VERY EXCITE-

Anyway, Tubbo and Tommy gotta go talk to Eret now. It's gonna be fine, totally fine, because the boys are definitely *not* fighting. We're finally getting back to more plot-like things.

Chapter 33: Strictly Business

Notes:

WOW, okay, so many people were excited for the Eret POV. Holy shit. Can't even- holy fuck. Well, the Eret POV is here, because I'm a little writing goblin, apparently, and posting three chapters in two days is how we're doing this.

Hope I did this royalty some justice. (don't ask about the Tommy and Tubbo arguing thing, because they are definitely not fighting, nope, no, definitely not)

Eret had long since accepted that the server in which they resided was far from a normal one. They were, of course, perfectly aware that they had contributed to that. They had also accepted that there would be people who might never forgive them for their actions. That was fine. It hurt, but it would never compare to the hurt they’d caused their friends, so they accepted it.

Were they surprised to receive a message from Tubbo and Tommy about needing to talk? Yes, very surprised, but it was the most anyone had wanted to talk to them in a while,so they weren’t exactly protesting.

Though, seeing the boys approach their castle, they were beginning to suspect that they should have protested at least a little bit. Or, at the very least, they should have asked why Tubbo and Tommy both wanted to speak to them.

Oh, well. Hindsight is 20/20.

“Hello, Tubbo,” Eret greeted. “Tommy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hardly call this pleasure,” Tubbo said formerly. “We’re here strictly on business.”

Tommy scoffed. “He might be, but I’m not here strictly for anything.” He lifted his hand for a high-five. “Ayup, Eret.”

Eret laughed, having missed Tommy’s antics. “Ayup, Mr. Innit,” she said warmly, returning the high-five in a very royal and definitely very dignified way.

Tubbo glared at Tommy. “I'd have assumed that Tommy was also here strictly on business,” he said loftily, “since this whole thing was his idea.”

“And what idea would that be?” Eret asked.

Tommy frowned at Tubbo. “Just because it was my idea doesn’t mean we can’t have some fucking fun, man.” He crossed his arms and turned away. “Don’t have to have a stick in your arse about everything, you know.”

“Or maybe you just need to take things more seriously,” Tubbo replied.

Eret held up her hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said, “but what was it exactly that you needed to ask me?”

“Right,” Tommy cleared his throat. “So, basically, we need you to be the judge for a trial.”

“Ah,” Eret nodded slowly. “Well, I-”

Tubbo rolled his eyes. “Could you be any less specific?” He looked up at Eret, never once faltering his formal tone. “L’Manburg wants to put Technoblade on trial for his acts of terrorism against L’Manburg, and-”

“Hey!” Tommy protested. “I was gonna specify, you dickhead. If you would have given me, like, five seconds-”

“Eret’s time is valuable,” Tubbo said shortly. “And so is mine. Nobody has time for you to be childish and vague.”

Tommy looked away again, and Eret could have sworn that there was anger deep in Tommy’s eyes, just barely kept at bay. “Fine,” he muttered. “You explain then, bitch.”

“Gladly.” Tubbo hadn’t even spared Tommy a glance. “Anyway, as I was saying, L’Manburg wants to put Technoblade on trial for acts of terrorism.” Now Tubbo glanced at Tommy. “But it has been brought to my--and my cabinet’s--attention that Technoblade’s trial isn’t under L’Manburg jurisdiction.”

“Because it fucking isn’t, you prick," Tommy muttered.

Tubbo looked back to Eret. “So, if L’Manburg wants Technoblade on trial, you have to be judge.”

Eret blinked, slowly processing the words. “You want- am I to assume that this will be a Technoblade vs. L’Manburg situation?”

Tommy fidgeted. “I mean, yeah. My trial was under the jurisdiction of L’Manburg because I lived there, so Tubbo was the judge and dealt out punishment and all that shit.” Tubbo’s eyes flickered. “Which means Technoblade's trial is under jurisdiction of the Greater Dream SMP. And that’s, uh… you.”

“I see,” Eret said. “Well, I’m more than happy to help.” Tommy brightened. Tubbo did not. “If I may, who is representing each side? Lawyers, I suppose.”

“Quackity will be representing L’Manburg,” Tubbo informed him. “And we’re not sure who will be representing Technoblade, but-”

“Actually,” Tommy interrupted. “I do know who will be representing Technoblade, thank you very fucking much." Tommy pointedly avoided Tubbo’s gaze. “I spoke to him shortly before I messaged you. Technoblade said he’d like to represent himself.”

Tubbo was still staring into the side of Tommy’s head. “Why was I not informed of this?”

Tommy shrugged. “You didn’t fucking ask. You didn’t ask either of us.”

“I’d rather not speak to Technoblade more than I have to,” Tubbo said flatly. “For obvious reasons. Talking to him about the trial was bad enough.”

“Yeah,” Tommy muttered. “Imagine being forced to talk to the guy who killed you. Must be, like, super fucking stressful or something. I wouldn’t know anything about that, obviously.”

Eret was… understandably very confused. He’d witnessed a lot of fighting on the Dream SMP, and participated in a good bit of it, to some degree, but this? This was new. Could two people be fighting without actually having the argument?

He raised a hand before Tubbo or Tommy could say anything else. “When is this trial taking place?”

“Whenever would be most convenient for you,” Tubbo replied. “But Tommy and I agreed that we would like this resolved as quickly as possible.”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed. “No sense in dragging this out more than we have to.”

Tubbo’s gaze flicked to Tommy for a moment before returning to Eret. “So?”

Eret paused. This was clearly a topic of disagreement between the boys. Tubbo looked none too happy to be in his presence, whereas Tommy seemed none too happy to be on the receiving end of Tubbo’s anger.

“The day after tomorrow,” Eret decided. “Would that give both parties sufficient time to gather their evidence?”

“L’Manburg is already more than prepared,” Tubbo said smoothly. “If Tommy believes that Technoblade needs time, then I suppose-”

“Yes,” Tommy replied immediately. “I’m gonna- yeah, obviously, give the guy some fucking time.” He glared at the ground. “It’s really fucking hard to be on trial with no one defending you, okay? Just…” Gray eyes met Eret’s. “I’d like to give Technoblade a day. Please.”

Eret nodded. “It’s settled, then. Day after tomorrow.”

Tubbo held out a hand, presumably to shake. “Thank you for your cooperation, King Eret.”

“Of course,” Eret replied. He shook Tubbo’s hand, trying to remember when it was that the teenager had become this rigid. “Let me know if there’s anything else that you need.”

“Will do.” Tubbo nodded to Tommy. “I’ll see you both at the trial.”

Tommy sighed. “Yeah, Tubzo. I’ll see you at the trial.”

And Tubbo left without another word.

But Tommy… didn’t.

Eret tilted their head at Tommy curiously. “Tommy? Was there something else that you needed?”

Tommy jolted, as if surprised that he’d been addressed. “Huh? No. I just-” He coughed awkwardly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn't just here for business, man. Haven’t talked to you in a while, and- well, how’ve you been?”

“Oh.” Eret smiled, pleasantly surprised. “I’ve been alright, Tommy, thank you.” He eyes Tommy’s new scars and gray eyes. “It looks like maybe you’ve been… less than fine.”

“Yeah, well,” Tommy shrugged. “Shit happens.” He glanced away. “Glad your, uh… royal status or whatever. Kingship. Got that back? Congrats, man.”

Eret hummed. “I hardly deserve it, after what I did to get it, but I appreciate it.” They waved Tommy forward. “Would you like  a tour?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ve already had a tour, Big Man.”

“A walk, then,” Eret amended. “So long as you’re not going to steal anything.”

“Fair,” Tommy followed Eret without further protest. “Not really in the mood for stealing, anyway.” Which was odd. Eret had expected him to complain a bit about not being able to steal.

Not that Eret would have particularly minded if Tommy stole. Part of the reason they wanted to be king was so they had the resources to help people. They realized how badly their actions contradicted their goal. It was a shame that they had realized it far too late.

Eret chuckled a bit. “Have you left your thieving days behind you, Mr. Innit?”

“Eh, more or less,” Tommy admitted. “Sam- you know Sam, right? He’s been a great help these past couple of weeks or so. It’s less tempting to steal when you have someone actually willing to help you.”

“Sam?” Eret questioned. “Is that where you’ve been staying?”

Tommy nodded, a smile finding its way to his face. “Yeah. Ever since Dream blew up Logstedshire, I-”

“Ever since Dream what?”

The teenager winced. “Ah. Keep forgetting that not everyone knows what happened there.” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, Dream- he was a bit of a dickhead during exile. I pissed him off real bad one day and he just-” He mimed an explosion. “So, you know, I couldn't exactly hang around. And Sam had offered a safe place to stay, if I ever needed it, so I went.”

Eret felt his stomach twist at the words. The implication that Dream had done something before blowing up Logstedshire, and that destroying the area was only the worst of it, made Eret’s heart ache for the teenager beside him.

“You know,” Tommy said suddenly. “I’m not sure I ever thanked you.”

“For what?” Eret asked, genuinely bewildered, because what could Tommy possibly need to thank her for?

Tommy waved a hand flippantly. “Well, you know, you did offer Wilbur and I… sanctuary, I think you said, after Schlatt exiled us.” He ran a hand along a stone wall absently. “And I wasn’t very nice about it. Kind of a dickhead, actually. Sorry about that.”

Eret shook her head. “You don’t need to thank me for that. And you certainly don't need to apologize. Not to me, Tommy.”

“No, I do,” Tommy insisted. “Puffy says- her and Sam are really helping me with this shit. She says that I need to be better about expressing things. I tend to make everything, like, a knee-jerk reaction, and people tend to not like me much when I do that.”

“Well, I find you plenty likeable,” Eret said honestly. “A little rambunctious, maybe, but what teenager isn’t? Offering you and Wilbur sanctuary was the least I could do after the Final Control Room.”

Tommy went quiet. Eret couldn’t say she blamed Tommy, really. The Final Control Room had to be a sensitive subject for the teen, given everything that had happened there. Her own betrayal, losing a life, and then Wilbur’s betrayal, losing Wilbur.

Eret truly couldn’t imagine the sheer amount of emotion Tommy might have tied there.

“I should be the one thanking you, Tommy,” Eret said. “The fact that you trust me enough with this trial means more than you know. And I’m grateful for that trust. I’m well aware that I don’t deserve it.”

“Eret,” Tommy sighed, “listen, man, you can’t- you can’t fucking beat yourself up about that forever.” His hand fell away from the wall. “Look, if we’re gonna talk about people who did some fucked up shit? Just look- look at my fucking brother. At least you thought some good would come from you being king. Wilbur was just a bitch.”

He knew Tommy had a point. That didn’t stop betrayed faces plaguing his thoughts whenever the castle became too quiet. “I know,” he said. “But I’m still sorry.”

“And I still forgive you,” Tommy said simply. Immediately Like it was obvious.

“You don’t have to,” Eret reminded him. “You’re one of very few people who would, but you’re certainly not obligated to.”

Tommy huffed. “That’s- Eret, that’s why I already forgive you.” He stopped walking to look at Eret properly. “You never expected anyone to forgive you, but you still changed.” He grabbed Eret by the arm. “You were still willing to help Wilbur and I, even when we hadn’t forgiven you, and I- I really fucking appreciate that, man. I do.”

Sam must have been a miracle worker of some kind, him and Puffy both, because never in a million years did they think that they’d ever witness Tommy being so vulnerable and open.

“And if you ever tell anyone I said that,” Tommy continued, “I will start stabbing shit. You, specifically. I will stab you.”

A laugh escaped Eret before they could stop themself. There it was. “Alright, Mr. Innit. I assure you that your secret is safe with me.”

“Good.” Tommy released his arm. “I think Puffy might be onto something about that whole being honest about my feelings shit. Kinda feels nice to say it.”

“I’m glad,” Eret said, continuing their walk. “And I’m glad you’ve accepted Sam’s offer of sanctuary. I’d say you’re more than deserving of a little peace, Tommy.”

Tommy chuckled a bit under his breath. “We’ll see how long it lasts,” he said. “I really do like staying with Sam. He’s a good guy.”

Eret didn’t know Sam as well as he knew others, but he did know that the creeper hybrids was one of Puffy’s friends, and Puffy was one of his knights, so he’d say that Sam was a pretty safe bet for Tommy. Puffy tended not to associate with untrustworthy people as much as he could.

“I did happen to notice that you and Tubbo seem… tense,” Eret commented. “Is everything okay with you two? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you fight.”

“We’re not fighting,” Tommy said quickly. “He just- we’re not fighting.” Tommy crossed his arms. “He thinks he’s right and I think he’s not.” His brow furrowed. “He was gonna execute Technoblade. I told him that Techno would probably try and destroy L’Manburg again if he did that, and he got pissed off. That’s it. But we’re not fighting. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Dickhead. Fucking- don’t worry about it.”

Not fighting… right. “Alright,” Eret relented. “Whatever you say, Tommy.”

Tommy’s grip tightened on his arms. “I think I should head back to Sam,” he said. “Not- not to cut this short, but I think I need to… like, mentally prepare for this fucking trial thing.” He glanced up. “You probably do, too.”

Admittedly, Eret did find herself somewhat daunted by the task ahead. “Sure." She led Tommy back to the door. “Keep me updated if anything changes, and I’ll see you at the trial.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, gray eyes filled with uncertainty. “See you at the trial, King Eret.”

“Just Eret will do, Mr. Innit,” Eret said, hoping the light-hearted tease might help soothe whatever nerve she had irritated by mentioning Tommy’s not fight with Tubbo.

“Just Tommy will do, King Eret,” Tommy shot Eret a grin. She gave herself a mental pat on the back. “Anyway. Thanks for agreeing to do the trial.”

Eret smiled. “Of course. It’s my duty as king of the SMP.”

Tommy waved him off as they reached the door. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Duty, responsibility, boring stuff, whatever.” He smiled again. “I still appreciate it.” The smile vanished. “Don’t tell anyone that I said-”

“I won’t,” Eret assured. “Now get back to Sam before he calls me to figure out where you are.”

“Fine,” Tommy said. “But I will stab you.”

“I know.”

Tommy walked backwards out the door to continue his threats. “And I’ll steal from you! Royal prick. I will!”

“I’m sure you will, Mr. Innit,” Eret said, moving so that he could close the door behind Tommy. “My door is always open to you, Tommy.”

“Bitch!”

Eret closed the door, still laughing to himself a bit. Tommy really was something else. A good kid, and he finally had some good guidance.

Now, as far as his own predicament was concerned…

They wouldn’t kill Technoblade. They couldn’t. Their own acts of terrorism had slid by with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and some rightfully withdrawn trust. And while Technoblade was far more vindictive, and his motivations far more vague and violent, Eret still couldn’t bring themself to consider execution a possibility.

Did they believe that Technoblade deserved it? Perhaps a little, especially after what had happened at Schlatt’s festival. Tubbo certainly had a lot to be angry about. But still, they couldn’t risk Technoblade starting another war. So, L’Manburg was going to have to settle for like more mundane. Maybe house arrest.

Eret wouldn’t-- couldn’t --be the reason their friends got hurt again. They refused.

Notes:

One day to prepare. Hm... guess I oughta do another Duck Boi POV, huh? Not that he needs to prepare much, because he definitely has this trial in the bag. Nothing could possibly go wrong here, there's too much evidence.

Also, he's not mad at Tommy, but, like... maybe he's just. a leetle bit mad at Tommy. But also, he's totally *not* mad. At all.

Chapter 34: Emotional Distress

Notes:

Friend: Hey, Tubbo was kind of being a dick in the last chapter.
Literally Tubbo: If I let myself experience An Emotion, I think I will Fucking Explode.

It literally pained me so much to write Tubbo being kind of an asshole, simply because fics that villainize Tubbo over exile bother me a *lot*, but this chapter kind of explains his thought process and actions. Everyone has a stress response, Tubbo's is 'Ignore Feelings Until Feelings Go Away Or Maybe I'll Just Ignore Them Until I Die'.

Quackity stared at the open book in front of him thoughtfully. For the most part, he had his evidence gathered, all he needed was to put it all down so that it looked a little more professional. He would look more put together than Technoblade, anyway.

He flipped through the pages idly, occasionally adding a note, checking and rechecking his definitions. He didn’t need to, but it made him feel better. This was what little he could control about the situation now, so he was making the most of it. His one shot at getting Technoblade legally.

Not that he wouldn’t be willing to take some illegal shots if he had to. The trial was only a formality, after all.

If only Tommy hadn’t… and Quackity couldn’t even bring himself to finish the thought. Because too many people already said ‘if Tommy hadn’t this’ and ‘if Tommy hadn’t that’. And Quackity refused to be the next person that blamed Tommy for his problems.

Where would it get him anyway? Okay, sure, if Tommy hadn’t been involved in a lot of events, things on the server would be different. What bothered Quackity was that no one considered the alternatives. If Tommy hadn’t- well, what if Wilbur hadn’t? What if Technoblade hadn’t? What if Dream hadn’t?

Not to say he wasn’t upset with Tommy for messing with his plans, because he was, but he understood the need to have your bases covered. Tommy wanted Tubbo to be safe, Quackity couldn’t exactly blame him for that. It threw a few obstacles in the plan, but Quackity was always up for a challenge. It was barely a challenge anyway. Technoblade was guilty, no matter who Tommy wanted the judge to be.

He set his pencil down and rested his folded arms on the table, rereading the definition of anarchy and the definition of terrorism, just to be safe. He’d probably have them memorized by the trial, but it was a welcome distraction.

Until the door opened, far too loud to be anything but angry. And then he was slamming the book closed and standing, whirling around and keeping the book behind him. What was he hiding? Did he have something to hide? He didn’t think so. But, then again, he never really did, but-

And a scarred face was staring back at him. A half-blind gaze blinked, brows furrowed beneath carefully combed bangs. “Big Q,” a voice said quietly. “It’s just me. It’s Tubbo.”

Quackity blinked, shaking his head slightly to get rid of the thoughts clouding his mind. “Tubbo,” he managed. “Yeah, I just- hey.” He sat back down and reopened his book of notes. “How’d it go at Eret’s?” He was glad to be facing away from Tubbo. It was always embarrassing when a reaction got out of hand.

It wasn’t even the worst that Tubbo had seen from him, but still.

Tubbo sighed. “Didn’t know you were in here. I would have knocked.”

“I know,” Quackity said. “It’s fine.” And it was. Quackity and Tubbo had been tip-toeing around their respective trauma for ages. Knocking was one of the basic courtesies they offered each other. That, and never actually entering the room without permission. “So. Eret?”

“Went about as well as I expected it to.” Tubbo moved to sit at the head of the table, just around the corner from Quackity and his notes. “Tommy called me a dickhead. And a bitch.”

Quackity hummed, trying to find where he’d left off in his notes. “I mean, were you being a dickhead?” he teased.

The jab didn’t appear to land. “So now I’m a dickhead for taking the situation seriously?” Tubbo asked shortly. “Just because I’m trying to actually get this trial moving?”

“You say ‘hello’, at least?” Quackity prompted.

Tubbo frowned. “Of course, I…” he trailed off. “Okay, maybe I didn’t, but-” He let his head thump against the table. “Whatever. I’m too tired for this shit.”

And the teenage president did look tired. Quackity didn’t think he’d seen Tubbo this tired since the days leading up to the festival, back when the teenager had been secretly visiting Pogtopia, spying on Schlatt, preparing a platform that would soon become a grave.

Yet another teenager running himself ragged.

“You’re not doing the thing again, are you?” Quackity asked.

Tubbo lifted his head slightly. “What thing?”

“You know, that thing you do,” Quackity said. “When you pretend something’s not bothering you until you explode about it.”

“I don’t-”

“Tubbo.” Quackity looked up from his notes. “Everyone is perfectly aware that Tommy knows you best, okay?” He leveled Tubbo with the most even stare he could manage. “But I think we both know that I am a pretty solid second.”

He could still remember Tubbo glaring at him during Tommy’s sentencing, snapping about his authority being undermined, about not being treated with respect, even though he was the president. In hindsight, maybe he and Fundy shouldn’t have been pushing so hard, but Tubbo had seemed so lost and buried under the stress of Dream’s threats, that it had felt necessary to keep nudging him in the right direction.

It’d done more harm than good in the end, though. And Quackity was sure that the outburst had a hand in Tubbo’s decision to exile Tommy. A very small part, obviously, because a lot of it was just Dream and the trial, but Quackity still wouldn’t doubt that the lingering anger had something to do with it, too.

”What?” Tubbo scoffed. “Because of Schlatt? Fundy was there for that shit, too. He was a spy, just like I was.”

“Yeah,” Quackity replied. “So, we know how shitty it was. Does Tommy know?”

Tubbo frowned. “Of course, he does. Just because he didn’t see most of it happen, doesn’t mean he’s not aware Schlatt was a fucking prick.” He scratched at the wooden table idly. “It’s not like it was a secret, anyway. Everyone knew Schlatt was a drunk who shouted a lot. Not like I’ve got any secrets.” His gaze darkened a bit. “Unlike Tommy, who’s being secretive about fucking everything.”

Quackity studied Tubbo for a moment. “This is about exile, isn’t it.”

“It’s about a lot of things,” Tubbo corrected. “It’s about- you know how fucking cryptic he was when he called me that first time? Not telling me where he was? Saying Dream had hurt him? And he wouldn’t even let me get a word in edgewise about it! He tells me that he- that he was hallucinating, and then he just drops it. Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that information? It explains absolute nothing!”

“It explains that he was lonely,”Quackity offered. “It’s the same shit as Schlatt, man. Just because you don’t know every single detail, or just didn’t see it happen, doesn’t mean you don’t know that Dream’s a piece of shit.”

Tubbo glared. “If this is turning into another fucking lecture-”

“It’s not,” Quackity assured him. “I’m just saying. It took a while for either of us to fully confront what Schlatt did. I’m pretty sure you are still doing the thing about it and pretending a lot it didn’t bother you. Tommy just needs time, man. You guys will figure it out.”

“But I want to figure it out now,” Tubbo muttered. “I don’t know what the hell he wants me to do about any of this if he doesn’t tell me what’s going on in that fucking head of his.”

Quackity shrugged. “That kind of requires you talking to him,” he said, trying really hard not to make it sound like a jab. “Which is kind of difficult when you’re being… uptight?”

“I know,” Tubbo said. “I know, I know, I know.” He buried his face in his arms again. “But I’m still upset and pissed off, and I don’t know what to do with any of it, so I’m just keep focused on this fucking trial until it’s done.”

Which still sounded like that thing Tubbo did.

“And then you’ll talk to Tommy?” Quackity prompted. “Like, actually talk to him.” Tubbo grumbled, and Quackity took that as agreement. “He doesn’t even want to be helping Technoblade, you know.” He picked up his pencil again. “He really does just think he’s helping.”

Tubbo grunted. “Well, good for him, I guess.”

They lapsed into a comfortable sort of silence, Tubbo glancing up a bit to watch Quackity scribble in his book. It reminded Quackity of some of their quieter days during Schatt’s presidency.

It was nice to remember. Until he remembered the rest of it. And then he just felt sick.

He tightened his grip on the pencil and kept writing.

“You ever think about Schlatt?” Tubbo asked.

Quackity closed his eyes and bit back a curse. “I… try not to, most days.”

Tubbo nodded. “Yeah. Same.” He picked at the wooden table. “I think Tommy’s really the only person who knows what happened. Maybe not… all of it, but he knows the most, apart for you and Fundy.”

“Good times, huh?” Quackity joked.

“Some of it, yeah,” Tubbo admitted. “Sometimes it was nice just to wake up and… I don’t know. Not have to fight a war?” He hesitated. “It wasn’t actually good, though, was it.”

And, god, Quackity wished that he had Karl or Sapnap there to hold his hand or tell him that he was okay. Hell, he’d accept their mere presence. Just having them in his line of sight. “No,” he said. “No, it wasn’t.”

“I’m not like Schlatt, am I?”

Quackity stared at Tubbo in surprise. “What- no. No, of course not, man. What the fuck made you think that?”

Tubbo shrugged. “Something Tommy and I said to each other, I guess. Tommy, like… strategizing around our trial, it kinda seemed like something Wilbur would do to fuck with Dream, back in the day.” He shifted a bit. “And I told him I wouldn’t be the next Schlatt as long as he didn’t become the next Wilbur.”

“Okay, neither one of you are becoming Schlatt or Wilbur,” Quackity said firmly. “So get that out of your head right now.”

Because if it stayed in Tubbo’s head, then he’d keep it there and let it simmer until he exploded again, just like at Tommy’s sentencing. Quackity was sure he could handle an outburst from Tubbo, but if it ever got directed at Ranboo or Tommy, they might not take it as well.

“If anyone on this server was going to end up like Schlatt,” Quackity continued. “It’d probably be me.”

Tubbo’s eyes widened slightly. “Quackity, don’t say that-”

Quackity snorted. “I’m a politician and an aspiring businessman. Literally the closest thing you could get to Schlatt without the bastard actually being here.” He tapped his pencil against his book of notes. “Ah, but who gives a shit, right? We’ve got a trial to focus on.”

“Well, now you’re doing the thing,” Tubbo accused.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“If I don't get to do the thing, then you don't get to do the thing either,” Tubbo protested.

Quackity grinned. “So you’re admitting that it’s a thing.”

Tubbo groaned. “Actually fuck you, Big Q.” He scowled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were considerably brighter than they were when he arrived. “I’m- I’m the goddamn president. You’re required to do what I say. Like, by law. I’ll put you in jail.”

“Oh no,” Quackity deadpanned. “Whatever shall I do? I’m so terribly threatened by this jail that L’Manburg definitely has.”

“Fuck off,” Tubbo almost laughed.

“No, seriously,” Quackity said. “Shaking in my boots over here, man. “

Tubbo reached across the table and snatched Quackity’s book. “I’m the president, and you will fear me.”

Quackity gasped in mock offense. “Thief! That’s it, the next trial is gonna be yours if you don’t give me that back.” Tubbo cackled in response, which Quackity much preferred over the barely concealed anger and silence. “I’m serious, man. I’ll sue you for emotional distress.”

“That is so not a thing!” Tubbo said incredulously. “Fucking emotional distress?”

“You studying law, Tubbo?” Quackity argued. “Huh? Are you?”

The teenage president composed himself long enough to hand Quackity his book of notes back. “Alright, Bossman, one trial at a time.”

Little victories were just as important as the big ones, as far as Quackity was concerned. The little victories made the big victories all the more satisfying. Getting Tubbo to laugh was certainly a very, very small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it sure would make the trial a little less nerve-wracking if Tubbo wasn’t keyed up and angry.

Well, he supposed they were both still going to be at least a little angry. Tommy knew how important this trial was, and the wrenches he’d had thrown in the process was a bit upsetting. But, considering Tommy’s extensive history of throwing wrenches in plans, this was definitely one of the smaller ones. He’d definitely thrown bigger wrenches for far less important things.

It was progress for Tommy, which Quackity was happy for, really, he was, but he didn’t think he’d ever have to work around Tommy’s newfound maturity, and it was proving to be more frustrating than Quackity would like to admit.

Which probably didn’t feel very good on Tommy’s end, when Quackity thought about it. The citizens of L’Manburg were mad when Tommy was brash and reckless, and now they were also mad when he was learning to think things through. So, Quackity was trying to be as understanding as possible.

Even if that meant he was kind of doing the thing, and pretending the setbacks weren’t bothering him. Keeping his composure about the whole ordeal with Technoblade was becoming more and more of a challenge the longer it went on, but hopefully it’d be done soon.

Technoblade would be executed, L’Manburg could go back to having its peace, and then Quackity could start working on the next name on his hit list. Killing Dream would be a trial by fire all on its own, but he could cross that bridge when he came to it. Either way, the bastards would pay for what they’d done to the people of the server. The children, especially, deserved some justice.

Technoblade first, then Dream. Tubbo, then Tommy. One trial at a time.

Notes:

TikTok: "Hey, did you know that panic attacks don't always look like crying and hyperventilating? Sometimes it looks like shutting down and bursts of irritability!"
Me, watching stressed out Tubbo get angry during Tommy's sentencing and stressed out Quackity explode about Ranboo after the Community House: "Hm. Interesting."

Anyhow! I just realized that I haven't mentioned this before, but I need to mention it because. just because. But! The inspiration for writing this fic? @hottopicofficial / @awesam_irl on TikTok. They make wonderful Sam content, and their character analysis videos for c!Sam make me cry happy tears of happy because character analysis is my shit and also I love Sam. His character analysis really helped me in writing Sam's character, and is actually a huge inspiration for how I'm developing Sam's relationship with Tommy (especially in later chapters). So you should definitely go check out his content!

Chapter 35: Building Trust

Notes:

And we are BACK with the AwesamDad content, boys! I love writing plot, really, I do, but anytime I get to write Sam and Tommy just. being in a silly goofy mood. is just my absolute favorite.

Oh, yeah, also there's some angst, but not a lot. Can't have a chapter with Tommy without a *little* bit of angst thrown in. But it's mostly fluffy, 'calm before the storm' kind of fuckery for this chapter, I prommy.

Sam had found himself at a complete and utter loss. Which wasn’t really so unusual when it came to Tommy, the teenager had given him emotional whiplash more times than he cared to count, but that wasn’t necessarily where he found himself lost.

Just talking to Tommy, or maybe just listening to Tommy, made it pretty clear that there were a lot of emotions behind the walls of anger that Tommy had put between himself and the world. And he didn’t understand all of them, but he did his best because Tommy deserved someone that wasn’t going to half-ass caring about him.

He hadn’t realized how time-consuming it’d be, dealing with all of Tommy’s walls, but it was worth it for the small moments that Tommy decided to let him in. The outbursts and the long talks that came after were worth seeing Tommy relax a bit in his presence. The anger was worth every second that Sam wasn’t getting pushed away.

Tommy had done a lot to surprise him, but none of it had left him so completely speechless as Tommy calling him Dad.

"It was a joke, and he knew it was, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about it over and over again. And, unfortunately, Tommy had come home upset, so he didn’t want to press, but it did leave him a bit stranded in his own emotions about it.

Because he hadn’t exactly… minded.

Tommy obviously had too much on his mind for Sam to even consider bringing up the possibility of- and the fact that Sam was considering it. Was he even ready for that? Would Tommy even accept? His title of father as far as Quackity was concerned was unofficial, technically, but-

“Sam?” a voice jolted him from his thoughts. “You good, Big Man?”

Sam gave Tommy a smile. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Tommy joked. “Got steam coming out of your ears.” He glanced around, frowning a little at the unfamiliar surroundings. “Where are we even going? You’re not dragging me out here to murder me or some shit, are you?”

It was a joke, but Sam didn’t miss the way Tommy’s grip tightened around on the sword in his hand. “Don’t worry, there’s not gonna be any murders today,” he assured Tommy. “I just need to check on a build of mine, and I thought that you could use a distraction.”

“Shit distraction,” Tommy replied. “We’ve been walking for ages, Sam. I’m bored.”

Sam would rather him be bored than constantly stressing about the trial. He’d have enough time for that when the trial actually went underway. “We’re almost there,” Sam said.

Truthfully, he was dragging the walk out a little. He was bringing Tommy to his latest commission, and he was afraid it would face a little opposition. Still, if he wanted Tommy to be more open, then he needed to do the same. He’d rather show Tommy the build himself, rather than letting the teenager find out about it later.

Because the commission was Dream’s.

Which, honestly, could be just as stressful as the trial, simply because Dream was involved. But Sam figured that Tommy would be more likely to get mad than stressed when it came to something like this. He'd take Tommy angry over stressed any day, even if the anger was directed at him.

He would almost deserve it, anyway.

Admittedly, Sam never really asked questions when it came to commissions, especially Dream’s. He wished he had, but he hadn’t, and now there was an obsidian prison on the coast. All he knew was that Dream was the admin. He was in charge, technically, despite Eret and Tubbo’s positions of power, and if he deemed it necessary to have a prison, Sam wasn’t one to argue.

It wasn’t as if there weren’t people that would deserve to be in prison. And maybe people would be less inclined to start wars if there was actual consequence to it. So, to nobody’s greater dismay than his own, Sam hadn’t questioned Dream’s commission.

But that was then.  Now there was a scarred teenager in his house, one who stared too long at tall towers and pools of lava. Now there was a crater where Logstedshire used to be and the blue was only just starting to return to the gray haze of Tommy’s eyes. Now Tommy flinched at raised voices and hands that moved too fast, nothing like the fearless child Sam had known so many months ago.

Sam didn’t want to think too hard about who Dream might want to put in the prison, because he was sure that he already knew the answer, and it wasn’t anyone that actually deserved it.

“Oh, look!” Tommy exclaimed. “Sam, it’s a cow!” He grinned and pointed at a wild cow grazing a few blocks away from where they were walking. “Aw, look at him.” He looked up at Sam, beaming in delight. “I fucking love cows, Sam. They’re so nice. Very poggers, cows are.”

“You could try and catch him if you want,” Sam told him. It wouldn’t be too hard to build a pen for it back at the base.

Tommy laughed, and put his sword back in his inventory. “I haven’t got the best track record with cows, Sam. Not after Sapnap killed Henry and then-” He cut himself off with a frown. “And then, uh… hm.”

Sam could see the fog returning to Tommy’s eyes, prompting him to stop walking and put a gentle hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Exile is kinda fuzzy, sometimes,” Tommy said slowly. “I don’t- I don’t always remember all the things I should.” Sam nodded silently, giving Tommy the option to keep talking if he wanted. “But it- sometimes I remember things, and it-” Tommy pressed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes. “S’like a brick right to my fucking head, man.”

Something happened in exile. Again. Sam braced himself, already knowing that whatever Tommy said was going to be bad. The ‘fuzzy’ memories that resurfaced always tended to be on the more extreme side of Dream’s abuse.

Tommy took a breath. “Um… I know I say no one ever visited, which- that’s not very fair, because they did. Some of them. It just feels like they didn’t, but Puffy said I should, I don’t know, like, try to remember the ones that did? Because it was good that they did, and I should remember the good things.”

“You should,” Sam agreed. “I know it was lonely, but it’s good to know that there were people that came to see you. Even if they didn’t come later because of Dream.”

“Because of Dream,” Tommy echoed absently. “Did you know- I think Antfrost visited once.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t think I saw him, but he… left a note? And a mooshroom.”

Sam’s stomach sank, suddenly afraid of where this story might be headed.

“Antfrost asked me not to tell Dream that he was the one that left it there,” Tommy continued. “I don’t remember if I did, but I don’t think- it didn’t even matter.” A hand reached up to shakily grip at a sleeve. “Dream got pissed off at me about something and he, you know. He killed Mushroom Henry.”

And he said it so simply. Like it wasn’t something horribly traumatic and, quite frankly, terrifying. Sam couldn’t imagine what he’d do if someone had killed Fran like that.

No wonder exile was so ‘fuzzy’, as Tommy put it. The amount of power Dream had over him in Logstedshire was disturbing, and Sam couldn’t blame the teenager for not wanting to relive it, even in memory.

He imagined Puffy would have a name for it. Dissociation, maybe? He’d ask about it later. For now, he had a teenager scowling at the ground, either struggling to remember details of a memory or trying desperately to forget it again, and Sam wasn’t sure which.

What could he say in response to something like this? Sam was horrified and disgusted and he wanted to throttle Dream more than ever, but he couldn’t lash out. Not in that moment, because Tommy didn’t need him to be angry. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Tommy glanced at the wild cow again, watching it amble along. “Yeah,” he muttered, “well, the cow didn’t fucking deserve it, either.” He straightened and shook his head. “Whatever. I’m over it, anyway.” He shot Sam a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How much farther to this build of yours?”

“Just up ahead,” Sam said, but his mind was elsewhere.

He hated that he tried so hard to rationalize Dream’s actions. Maybe it was because they used to be friends, and Sam wasn’t quite ready to let go of that. But the more he knew about what Dream had done, the more he realized that there simply wasn’t any sense in rationalizing it.

Every time Sam thought he’d heard the worst of exile, there was something new. Something worse. Something that he couldn’t justify or rationalize. Because maybe-- maybe --Dream really thought he was doing the right thing by isolating Tommy. And maybe he actually thought that there was a lesson to be learned by taking Tommy’s things and destroying them.

But even that logic, sick and twisted as it was, seemed to crumble when it came to things like this. Things like Mushroom Henry and Mexican Dream. Murder for the sake of murder, or just to strip Tommy of whatever small amount of happiness that he had.

Sam’s fists clenched at his sides, but he released them before Tommy could see. There was a time and a place to be angry, and this wasn’t it.

Tommy squinted as an ominous black shape came into view. “What the fuck is that?”

“That,” Sam said, “would be Pandora’s Vault.”

“How the fuck have I never seen this before?” Tommy marveled. “It’s fucking huge, Sam! What's it doing all the way out here?”

It was pretty out of the way, Sam agreed. It had been Dream’s insistence, and it was a big enough build that Sam needed the space, anyway.

The sword in Tommy’s hand disappeared into his inventory, excitement overtaking whatever nervousness that came with walking around in the open. “Can we go in, Sam? What’s the inside like?”

Sam hummed. “I don’t think so, Tommy. I’m just making sure no one’s been in the area or tried to get  in.” Tommy deflated a bit, but Sam interjected before he could argue. “I don’t think you’d want to go in there anyway. It’s a prison.”

Tommy blinked. “Oh.” He looked up at the building apprehensively. “Well, when you put it that way…” Tommy followed closer to Sam as he checked the portal that would lead inside of the prison. “You said this was commissioned, right? Who would commission something like this?”

This was the hard part. He needed to be honest, but he was afraid of hurting Tommy. “Dream did,” Sam admitted. “It was before your exile. Before a lot of things, actually.”

He was met with silence. Which was better than the angry shouting that he’d been expecting. So, not wanting to push his luck, he continued to look for out of place blocks or anything else that could indicate that someone else had been there.

“Dream commissioned a prison,” Tommy said finally. “And you agreed to fucking build it?”

Sam nodded. “Like I said, it was before I’d heard about what was going on.” He knelt to check for anything in the floor, but it looked like nothing had been mined, thankfully. “If it’s any consolation, I’m definitely not going to be letting Dream use it.”

Tommy made an unsure noise. “But he paid for it, yeah? Isn’t that… like, illegal? Or something?” Sam glanced over to see Tommy taking in the portal nervously. “Don’t you have to let him use it?”

“I don’t have to let him do anything,” Sam said easily. “He offered me the warden position here. He could try to put someone in the prison, but he’d need my help to do it. And, for obvious reasons, I’m not going to.”

“Obvious reasons,” Tommy asked suspiciously. “Like what?”

Like you, Sam almost said. “I have reason to believe he’d use the prison for the wrong reasons,” he said instead. “He doesn’t exactly have the best track as of late.” He stood and turned to Tommy with a smile. “Honestly, I don’t even know who he was gonna use it for, anyway. It’s not like anyone’s committed any war crimes lately.”

Tommy snorted. “Even if they did, Dream probably wouldn’t care. It was hard enough getting Technoblade on fucking trial, you think Dream cares about putting criminals in prison?” His brow furrowed. “Bet he wants to use it for… I don’t know. Something fucked up and evil, I bet.”

And Tommy would know better than anyone, wouldn’t he? “Well, I think people are a little more wary of Dream now. Not even Sapnap trusts him at this point. I doubt he’s going to get away with whatever ‘fuck up and evil’ plans he has.”

“He doesn’t get away with shit because people trust him,” Tommy pointed out. “Lots of people don’t trust him. He gets away with shit because no one has the balls to fucking stop him.”

Sam wished that he could argue. But, yet again, Tommy would know better than anyone the sheer amount of horrible things that Dream had gotten away with.

The manipulation, the lies, the abuse, the senseless murder. If Technoblade deserved to be on trial, then Dream certainly deserved to be in prison. Maybe they both did, but Tommy was right. It was hard enough bringing the anarchist to justice, and he still probably wouldn’t get the punishment he deserved. It’d take an army to finally get the admin to answer for his crimes.

But Technoblade not receiving a fitting punishment was excusable as a means to keep L’Manburg safe. If Tommy was going to be denied his justice as well, Sam was going to make sure he was just as protected. He was owed at least that much.

“Are we done here?” Tommy asked. “Now that I know this place belongs to that bastard, I’d rather not stay any longer than I have to.”

Sam winced in sympathy. “Sorry. I just didn’t want to leave you at the house by yourself.” Tommy probably wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but he didn’t like being left alone. Sam couldn’t blame him.

Tommy waved him off. “It’s fine.” He left the small building quickly, stealing another glance at the much larger prison. “Has he even visited this thing recently?”

“Not that I know of,” Sam said. “Pretty sure the only person that’s been here recently is me. And you, of course.”

“Hm.” Tommy studied the building. “Weird. Guess he has better things to do.”

Better things, Sam wondered, or worse things? It seemed to be a blurred line when it came to Dream and his motivations.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Tommy turned on him suddenly. “Did you drag me out here just to distract me from the trial tomorrow?”

Sam hesitated. “Well, that wasn’t the only reason I brought you out here,” he said finally.

Tommy gasped. “You bastard,” he exclaimed with no real bite to the insult. “What else did you bring me out here for?”

“Nothing serious,” Sam placated. “I just thought it’d be better if I showed you this place rather than letting you find out about it later. It felt wrong hiding it from you, especially since it’s… you know, his.” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t feel very fair of me to keep it from you.”

That seemed to give Tommy pause. “I mean, I guess I’d probably be pretty pissed off if I found out about it from Dream or something.” He glanced between Sam and the prison. “I, uh… appreciate it, Big Man,” he said awkwardly, like the words didn’t quite fit in his mouth.

Sam didn’t hold that against him. It must have been difficult to learn how to express gratitude when all the world had ever done for him was take. But Tommy was trying--most likely on orders from Puffy--and that was all Sam could ask.

I mean, I probably would have clarted you a few months ago,” Tommy admitted. “Just for working with Dream, but… you aren’t a bad guy, Sam. You’re a pretty great guy, actually, and I don’t- I don’t think you would have worked with Dream if you had known about the shit that happened in exile.”

“Never,” Sam confirmed. “And you definitely won’t ever catch me working with him again.”

Tommy gave a nod. “Good, that’s- yeah. Good.” He rolled his shoulders back and sighed. “Okay. I’m done with the Dream shit. Don’t really feel like making my head all spinny today.”

“Fair enough,” Sam said. “Let’s go back to the house, then. I’m sure Fran already misses us.”

“Clingy,” Tommy replied. “Everyone on this server is so fucking clingy.”

“Including you,” Sam stated.

The spluttering he received in response was as funny as it was endearing. “I am not!” Tommy protested. “I am the biggest man who ever existed, bitch. I am not fucking clingy.”

Sam rolled his eyes, just barely fighting off the wave of affection and walking back in the direction of his house. “Whatever you say, Tommy.”

Tommy jogged a bit to catch up with him. “I’m not!” he insisted. “You- you’re the clingy one, actually. Clingy bitch. You’re so attached, man.”

And, well, Sam didn't think he could argue with that, even if he wanted to. As much as he knew Tommy valued his independence, Sam still found himself hoping that Tommy could trust him enough to lean on him, even if the threat of danger ever passed. He wanted to be there for Tommy, more than just a temporary safe place from Dream. More than just a place to go when things were bad.

Sam wanted to help Tommy, guide him when he needed it. Sam wanted to be there when Tommy fell to pick him back up again. Sam wanted to hear Tommy hum Able Sisters to himself and hear him laugh at his own stories.

Sam wanted to be part of Tommy's life, through the worst and the best of it.

"Oi, dickhead," Tommy teased. "Spacing out on me again."

"Sorry," Sam said with a smile. "Just wondering how such a big man could possibly be so clingy."

Tommy squawked angrily and hurled insults, pushing at Sam's shoulder and demanding that he take it back. And Sam couldn't do anything but laugh, a small spark of pride finding its way into his happiness, because Tommy wouldn't have been nearly that bold a couple of weeks ago, still lingering in the corner of rooms and looking at Sam like he might need to escape.

The meaningless insults and the playful mockery of anger only assured Sam that he had helped. The teenager was comfortable enough around him to be fearlessly loud and energetic again. Tommy trusted him, despite the building they were walking away from, and he could have cried from the realization.

Of course, the last thing Sam wanted to do now was overstep a boundary. Even showing Tommy the prison was probably pushing it, so he didn’t dare voice any of the thoughts flying through his head. He wanted to, obviously, because Tommy deserved to know how much Sam cared, but he’d always been reluctant to accept affection, and Sam wasn’t willing to risk making the teenager uncomfortable.

It would almost definitely be overstepping Tommy’s barely stable boundaries to bring it up, but Sam still couldn’t help the small voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that he’d already been called Dad once. Maybe when things died down, if they ever did, they could have an actual conversation about it.

Notes:

Building up that trust, baby! Long story short: Sam loves his boy. The boy. Tommy. Sam care Tommy a lot, definitely.

Anyhow, gonna have to do the trial soon, and I still have no idea whose POVs I'm gonna do for that, because it's definitely gonna take a couple of chapters to get through the whole thing. I wanna do another Ranboo one, for sure. Maybe an Eret or Techno? Another Tommy one? Or Tubbo? Dream?

aaaaaaaaaa- I don't know, man. I'm tired.

Chapter 36: Counterfeit Sincerity

Notes:

Hi, hello, sorry this took so long! Ya boi had some life shit happen.

This is just a bit of build-up before I get into the trial. A little bit of Sam and Tommy interaction, as a treat. And I still don't know exactly whose POVs I'm going to be doing for the trial. I'm just... rolling with it.

Tommy was not excited for the trial.

He put up an incredible facade, of course. He was Tommy Innit, after all, the greatest man to ever live. So when Sam asked how Tommy was feeling as they made their way to the Courthouse, he lied and said that he was just fine and dandy.

If he was honest with himself--which he rarely was, Tommy found himself easier to lie to than most people--he was afraid. He was afraid to see Tubbo and Quackity. He was afraid to see Technoblade and Phil. Most importantly, he was fucking terrfied to see Dream.

But that was only if he was being honest with himself, and most certainly wasn’t. He simply did what he did best, and lied. He was a liar by habit, and it was what everyone expected of him, anyway. Not that he was proud of the reputation or anything, it was simply just a fact. Tommy was a liar. Everyone knew it.

“Sam,” he asked as casually as he possibly could, “what’s the worst word you know?”

He smiled at the laugh that escaped Sam. “Tommy, what?”

Tommy shrugged. “Not a hard question, Sam. What’s the worst word you know?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Why not?” Tommy pressed. “I’ll even help you out, Big Man! I know loads of bad words. Like bitch, and fuck, and shit, and cock and balls, and-”

Sam wheezed. “Tommy, I’m not answering that!

“Pussy!” Tommy declared. “You’re a pussy, Sam. Scared of a little question? Huh? Scared of some words, Sammy?” A hand found its way into his hair, and he swatted at it. “Hey! Knock that off, bitch!” He wasn’t sure why he did that, pushing away the affection that Sam tried to show him, but he did.

Liar, his thoughts hissed, you know why.

He did know. But it was easier to lie. It was easier to convince himself that Wilbur was irredeemably evil instead of a brother that ruffled his hair. If he was irredeemable, then Tommy couldn’t be tempted to forgive him. And Tommy didn’t want to forgive Wilbur.

Because if he forgave Wilbur, he could be tempted to forgive someone else that used to ruffle his hair. And Tommy would rather die than even consider forgiving Dream.

“How are you feeling about the trial?” Sam asked. “You think everything’s gonna work out?”

Tommy hummed. “I think it better work out, or Techno is gonna destroy L’Manburg.” There was always a spike of fear that came with that. He seemed to be the only one who realized how far Technoblade would go for his revenge, which meant absolutely nothing could go wrong here. And if something did go wrong-

“And if he does,” Sam interrupted his thoughts, “it won’t be your fault.”

“I know that,” Tommy huffed. “God, it’s so exhausting taking the moral high ground. Especially when it gets everyone pissed off at you.” He had to be careful with that line of thought. It was about two steps away from being a ‘Let’s be the Bad Guys’ kind of thought.

Sam shrugged. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m still proud of you.”

Tommy stared at Sam incredulously. “You are?”

“Of course,” Sam said. “You’ve come a long way since you first showed up at my house.” He paused for a moment. “And when I promised a safe place, you know that’s not limited to just my house, right?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked.

There was a long moment of silence before Sam answered. “You know Dream is probably going to be at this trial, right?”

Tommy ignored the bitterness that rose in his throat. “Don’t fucking remind me,” he muttered. “Been thinking about it all night.”

Sam put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey, Dream wouldn’t be brave enough to try something with a courtroom full of people. And if he tries anything, I’m gonna be right there, okay?” Tommy glanced away, unable to look at Sam when he was being so heartbreakingly open.

If Dream hurt him after this, Tommy didn’t want to remember Sam sincerely promising him that he’d be safe. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

“Tommy,” Sam said insistently.

“Don’t promise me shit,” Tommy said, pointedly staring at the ground as they walked. “Just- you say whatever you want, okay? Just don’t promise me anything.” He stole a glance at Sam. “Please?” he added. And wouldn’t Dream be so proud, Tommy thought to himself, that he’d finally managed to learn some manners.

He shoved the thought away before he could think about it too hard. Beside him, Sam was already nodding in agreement. “I can do that.” Which still sounded like a promise, somehow.

Everything Sam said sounded like a promise.

It would be the death of Tommy one day, he was sure of it.

Tommy refocused on the path in front of them. “I can see the Courthouse,” he said. “Think Tubbo’s there already?”

“One way to find out,” Sam said. “You don’t have any weapons, do you?”

“Of course not,” Tommy replied. “Against the rules, innit?” Everyone had decided preemptively that it would be a ‘no weapons’ kind of trial. Both to prevent someone--probably Quackity--killing Techno on sight, and to prevent Techno from killing someone--probably Tubbo--just because he could.

Also, it just made everyone in general feel a lot safer.

Tommy walked into the Courthouse with what he hoped was a very confident expression. Sam was at his side, which did actually make him feel a little bit more confident. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have to fake his confidence.

Ranboo noticed him first, his tail lifting a bit and a smile gracing his features. “Tommy!” he called out.

“Ranboo!” Tommy called back. “How are you, bitch?”

The enderman hybrid met him halfway, dodging a couple of people as he approached. “Fine, fine. Just a little busy, you know, with the trial and everything.”

“What for?” Tommy asked, trying to do a headcount of the room while he talked. Ranboo, Niki- “You’re not part of the trial, are you?” Fundy, Jack- “You weren’t really there for any of it.” Eret, Sapnap, Dream-

Of course, Tommy cursed his brain for still coming to a terrifying halt at the sight of Dream’s smile. 

“No, but someone has to make sure Tubbo doesn’t work himself to death.” Ranboo nodded to the front of the Courthouse. “He and Quackity have been up all night preparing for this trial.You’d think it was life or death.” Tommy quietly sighed in relief at the sight of Tubbo and Quackity. Everything was fine, everyone was safe, and Dream would dare try anything with everyone there.

“I imagine Techno feels the same way,” Sam said from somewhere beside him. Tommy moved closer to his voice, trying to ignore Dream slowly turning to face him. “It’s good to see you again, Ranboo. It’s been a while. You doing okay?”

Ranboo shrugged. “As good as I can. Little tired from keeping up with Tubbo.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I did lose something recently. Kind of important. But not, like… world-ending, I guess.” His gaze found Tommy again. “You good, Tommy?”

Tommy forced himself to look away from Dream. “Yeah, just tired from walking.” Ranboo turned to follow Tommy’s gaze. “Don’t fucking- Ranboo, don’t look at him.”

“Oh.” Ranboo whipped around again. “Dream, right?” He gave Tommy a reassuring smile. “We’re pretty sure he won’t try anything, but it’s- Tubbo made sure it was a weapons-free trial. It’ll be safe, you know, so you don’t have to worry.”

“I’m not fucking worried,” Tommy snapped. “Shut the fuck up.” He didn’t need Ranboo’s pity. He wasn’t scared of Dream. He just wanted to avoid Dream at all costs.

Sam nudged Tommy’s arm. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “We don’t have to stay, if you don’t want to.”

Tommy glanced around the room again. They could leave. There was nothing in the rules that stated Tommy had to be there, even though he was the one that pushed to have Eret for a judge. “It’s fine,” he told Sam. “I’ll stay, just… I don’t want to be near him.”

There was no need to specify him, Sam just nodded. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

“Whatever,” Tommy muttered. “Ranboo, do you know where Tubbo and Quackity are?”

“Quackity went to get Techno and Phil,” Ranboo replied. “He didn’t really trust those two to come on their own. And Tubbo is-”

“Behind you, Bossman.” Tommy jumped and whirled around, only to see a surprised Tubbo behind him. “Whoa! Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Tommy took a breath to steady himself. “You didn’t,” he managed. “I’ve never been startled by anything ever in my entire life.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes and smiled. “Whatever you say.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to, uh… you know, apologize. For being a dick at Eret’s the other day.”

“Oh.” Tommy said, surprised to hear Tubbo apologize. He was used to giving the apologies, not receiving them. “I- Tubbo, it’s fine.” He coughed into his hand. “I’m sorry, too. For being a dick about Techno’s trial.”

“It’s fine,” Tubbo said. “I guess you did kind of have a point,” he admitted. “I just hope Eret does the right thing here.”

Tommy hummed. “Yeah, me too.”

Tubbo gave him an odd look. “And we both know what the right thing is… right?”

“Yep,” Tommy said, fully aware that they both had very different definitions of what the right thing was.  He hoped that wouldn’t come back to bite him later. “We both definitely know what the right thing is.” Yeah… this was definitely going to bite him later.

It’d be worth it, though, to keep Tubbo and the rest of L’Manburg safe. Tommy just had to keep reminding himself of that. Tubbo wasn’t the only one capable of making tough decisions.

“Anyway,” Tubbo said suddenly, “I was actually wondering if I could borrow Ranboo for a moment. We need to talk with Fundy before the trial starts.”

Ranboo blinked. “Oh. Yeah, sure. Lead the way.” He gave a small wave to Tommy and Sam. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“For sure,” Sam replied. “Tommy, let’s go find somewhere to sit.” He took a moment to look around. “Somewhere that’s not here.”

Tommy was still pointedly not looking at Dream, who seemed closer, for some reason. “Yeah, let’s do that.” He returned Ranboo’s wave. “I’ll see you guys after the trial.”

Tubbo nodded. “Of course.” He looked to Ranboo and nodded in the direction of Fundy. “Let’s go.”

Sam guided Tommy to the benches set up. “We can leave any time you want,” he told Tommy gently. “All you have to do is say the word, and we can go right back home to Fran.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said as they sat down. “I just want this to be over with. It feels like everyone is fucking staring at me. It feels like he’s staring at me.”

“If he comes over here,” Sam started, “do you want me to-”

Tommy shook his head. “Don’t... I don’t know. Don’t do anything that might start a fight.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What counts as ‘starting a fight’? Because if he lays a hand on you, I’m going to punch him in the face.”

When was the last time anyone had offered to defend Tommy like that? “Thanks, Sammy,” he sighed. “But I’d really rather you didn’t get yourself in trouble on my behalf. And like you said, he wouldn’t try anything with this many people around.”

“That’s true,” Sam commented. “I’d still fight him if he gets out of hand, though.”

Tommy crossed his arms, giving Sam his best unimpressed stare, quite possibly the only useful thing he ever learned from Dream. “Sam, I’m serious. This is my serious face.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam conceded. “I won’t start a fight.”

“Thank you.” Tommy was finding that easier and easier to say. “I won’t start a  fight, either, if you’re worried about that.”

Sam shook his head. “I wasn’t worried about that at all.”

“What are we worried about?”

Tommy felt every muscle in his body tense. He could just barely see Sam in his peripheral turn to look at the voice. “Worried about nothing,” Sam said coolly. “I don’t think I was talking to you, Dream.”

Dream laughed. “Come on, Sam. I’m just trying to make conversation.” Tommy was so glad that Sam had decided to sit between him and the aisle. “Tommy. You’re not even going to say ‘hi’ to me?”

‘Hi’? Tommy would be content if he never spoke to Dream again. “Hello, Dream,” he said anyway, cursing his own weakness to Dream’s demands.

“Can’t even look at me?” Dream asked.

Tommy swallowed back an apology--Dream was always kinder if he apologized, it was a habit he needed to break--and he lifted his gaze to meet Dream’s. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Dream said, his voice dripping with sickening sincerity. “You disappeared on me, remember that, Tommy? You scared the shit out of me with that cobblestone tower of yours. I’ve been worried about you.”

“Not worried enough to stop you from taking both my discs, huh?” Tommy’s hands curled into fists where they rested on the bench. “You weren’t worried about me,” he said, trying to remember the advice Puffy had given him. “You were just mad I wasn’t listening to you anymore.”

Dream shrugged. “Believe whatever you want, Tommy.”

Sam stood, blocking Dream’s view of Tommy. “I think you should go sit down, Dream,” he suggested. “Somewhere over there, maybe.”

“Okay,” Dream stepped back, his hands up placatingly. Tommy went back to keeping his gaze trained on the air in front of him. “I’ll talk to you later, Tommy.”

“God, I fucking hope not,” Tommy muttered.

There was a beat of silence before Dream responded with. “Sure, Tommy.” Tommy released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when Dream walked away.

Sam waited a few moments before sitting down again. “You okay, Tommy?”

“I’m fucking fine,” Tommy slouched in his seat a little. “I just hate that guy.” He forced his fists to uncurl, pressing his palms flat against the seat of the bench to try and stop them from trembling. “I really fucking hate him, Sam. He makes me want to scream profanities at the very top of my lungs.”

Warmth enveloped his hand. “You can scream as many profanities as you want when we go home,” Sam said, giving Tommy’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “But maybe that’s not the best idea in the Courthouse.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Yeah, okay.” He grasped Sam’s hand and looked forward. “Last time I screamed profanities in a courtroom, I got exiled, so… probably not in my best interest.”

“I doubt Eret would exile you,” Sam said. “It’s not even your trial.”

“I know,” Tommy said. “My trial wasn’t nearly this tense.” He gave Sam a moment, just to make sure that he wasn’t going to pull away. “Then again,” he continued, “I wasn’t on trial for war crimes.” His attention was caught by Quackity walking into the courtroom, Techno and Phil following behind. “Oh. They’re here.”

Sam looked down at Tommy. “I know I’m asking this a lot, but I just want you to be sure: do you want to stay or leave?”

Tommy hesitated, his will already wavering from Dream’s mere appearance, but the presence of Quackity, with Technoblade and Phil in tow, made him want to slump even further into his seat. He was sure that Quackity was pissed off at him, and Technoblade nor Phil looked very happy to be in the courtroom.

There were a lot of powerful people in the Courthouse, Tommy suddenly realized. The top four most politically powerful people on the entire server--Tubbo, Techno, Eret, and Dream--all in one room. And that was entirely Tommy’s doing. “I’m staying,” he said firmly. “This whole trial thing is kind of our fault, Sam. Be a dick move if we left now.”

“Alright,” Sam said agreeably. “Let me know if that changes, okay?”

“Okay,” Tommy tightened his grip on Sam’s hand as Eret approached the podium. “Okay,” he repeated, trying to convince himself more than Sam. “Let the games fucking begin, I guess.”

Notes:

All the powers are officially on the scene. Tubbo, Techno, Eret, and Dream (and also Quackity and Tommy, who are definitely big powers on the server, whether they realize it yet or not).

I think I'm going to break the trial up into two or three POVs? Maybe four, depending on how long I decide to drag things out. So I kinda need your guys' input on, like, who you want to see here? I'm thinking Ranboo, Quackity, and Eret? But also maybe Tubbo? Or Techno? idk, y'all.

Chapter 37: The Whole Truth

Notes:

And the trial begins! This is gonna be fun. Don't worry, nothing too heavy just yet, we have to ease our way into the more tense moments.

Warning y'all now, this isn't going to be a totally accurate trial. Because this is a roleplay SMP, and it's full of idiots. Also, I'm an idiot, and I've only been to one trial.

Eret was looking forward to the trial, if only to get it over with. She was already on thin ice with many of the citizens of L’Manburg, and she doubted she was on Technoblade’s good side being a monarch. She could only hope she handled this trial better than previous trials, which always seemed to dissolve into chaos, somehow.

She waited at the podium for a few stragglers to get in the Courthouse. Puffy and Bad, who had been talking outside, had only just gotten in and taken their seats. Quackity and Tubbo still needed to take their seats in the front, but they were off talking somewhere. Fundy and Ranboo had finally made their way to the audience, Ranboo taking a seat on the other side of Tommy, and Fundy finding a more isolated area for himself.

A pang of guilt stabbed through her chest at the sight of Fundy sitting by himself, glaring angrily, and somehow longingly, at Phil, who was too preoccupied with talking to Technoblade to notice him. Eret had once offered to adopt Fundy, and missing the court date for it was probably the only thing she might regret more than her betrayal of L’Manburg.

But it didn’t matter. Looking back on the past wasn’t going to solve their present issue. Their present issue being how the actual hell they were going to pull off this trial without it turning into one big shouting match. They had to hope their presence was dominating enough to keep the peace, otherwise there could be a problem.

“Eret!” They glanced down to find Quackity motioning for their attention. “You about ready over here?”

Eret glanced up to see Punz settling next to Dream. Hopefully that was the last of the stragglers. “Ready when you are, Quackity,” they said. “Are you and Tubbo ready?”

Quackity held up a book, presumably his evidence. “We’re good to go.” He looked over to Technoblade and Phil, who had only just taken their seats on the other bench. “Hey, Phil! Techno!” he called. “You guys ready?”

Phil and Technoblade glanced at each. Techno shrugged, and Phil nodded. “We’re ready.”

They took a breath to steady themself. “Alright.” They cleared their throat, effectively catching everyone’s attention. “If everyone is ready, I think both parties are ready to begin.” They looked between Quackity and Technoblade. “Who wants to present their opening statement first?”

Quackity shrugged. “Technoblade can go first if he wants. It won’t matter either way.” Eret admired Quackity’s confidence, but they did wish he would tone down the arrogant tone.

Technoblade heaved a sigh. “Whatever gets this over with faster.” He stood and glanced around the room. “Uh… my statement is… L’Manburg knows why I did what I did. My actions on November 16th were deserved, and the fact that you’re dragging me out of retirement for it is annoying.”

Eret waited for Technoblade to continue, the audience mumbling as Technoblade sat back down. “Is that it?” he asked Technoblade in surprise. He didn’t know much about trials, but he didn’t think that was a very strong start.

“If he’s finished,” Quackity stood, “Tubbo and I are prepared to give an actual opening statement.” Eret could see why Quackity encouraged Technoblade to go first. Despite how composed Techno was, it was clear that Tubbo and Quackity were far more prepared.

“Go ahead,” Eret told Quackity. Quackity’s grin made him nervous. What was it that Quackity expected out of this trial?

Quackity opened the book he was holding and cleared his throat. “This case is about getting justice for Technoblade’s acts of terrorism committed against the country of L’Manburg, His actions were needlessly violent, and we feel that consequences should be delivered accordingly.”

Eret nodded. “Thank you, Quackity.” They gestured to Tubbo. “President Tubbo, if you would please come to the stand for the direct examination.”

Tubbo nodded and came up to the small stand next to the podium. Quackity followed closely behind, approaching the stand with a confidence that Eret remembered falling in love with once. But that was a long time ago, and if Sapnap’s staring was any indication, Quackity had already stolen another heart or two.

“Tubbo,” Quackity said. “Is it true that you were a spy for Pogtopia and knew about Wilbur’s pan to get rid of Schlatt and his administration?”

“Yes,” Tubbo replied evenly.

Quackity hummed. “And is it true that Wilbur had enlisted the help of Technoblade to take down Schlatt and his administration?”

Tubbo hesitated. “To my knowledge,” he said, “Technoblade was the one who approached Wilbur about getting rid of Schlatt.”

“Just to be clear,” Quackity flipped through a couple pages in his book of notes. “You’re saying that Wilbur didn’t seek out Technoblade, and that it was actually Technoblade that offered his help to Pogtopia in taking down Schlatt?”

“To my knowledge.,” Tubbo repeated. “But I wasn’t really in Pogtopia until after the festival.”

Quackity snapped his book closed. “Is there someone in the audience who would have a better idea of what happened in Pogtopia?”

Tubbo’s gaze scanned the audience for a moment. “Tommy would,” he said slowly. “He was Wilbur’s right hand man.”

Tommy seemed to shrink under the scrutiny of everyone’s stare. His gaze flicked to Technoblade, then Sam, before finally setting on the ground in front of him. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “He came to us. Offered to help take down Schlatt. Had this vault full of weapons and shit.”

Technoblade rolled his eyes. “Really?”

“Quiet,” Eret reminded Technoblade. “You’ll have your turn to speak.” He looked to Quackity. “Do you have any other questions?”

Quackity studied Technoblade for a moment. “No, I think I’m done here. Technoblade can do his cross examination if he wants.”

Phil pulled Technoblade close for a moment, whispering something that Eret couldn’t hear. Technoblade frowned, but he stood and made his way to the stand, passing Quackity without so much as a glance.

“Okay,” Technoblade said. “How do I do this?” He sent a questioning glance Eret’s way. “I just ask him some questions?”

Eret nodded. “Questions about the subject of the trial, then you’ll get on the stand after a short recess.”

Technoblade shrugged. “Fine.” He turned to Tubbo. “Have I or have I not made my disdain for governments perfectly clear?”

Tubbo’s brow furrowed. “I mean, I guess so? Both Pogtopia and Manburg were aware that you claimed to be an anarchist, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You admitted earlier that you weren’t in Pogtopia for a lot of what happened,” Technoblade pointed out. “You weren’t there when I found Wilbur and Tommy in exile, so why have you decided to put yourself on the stand?”

“Because I’m the president of L’Manburg now,” Tubbo stated simply. “The responsibility has fallen to me in absence of the person you originally made a deal with. With Wilbur deceased-”

Technoblade interrupted with, “But you said just a few moments ago that Tommy would be the person to ask about anything regarding Pogtopia. Why isn’t Tommy on the stand instead of you?”

Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “When we made the decision to deliver justice for your crimes, Tommy was unavailable. He was not in the country at the time, and he wasn’t part of the decision.”

“But he was the one that suggested a trial.” Technoblade turned to Tommy in the audience, who continued to look anywhere except the front of the Courthouse. “Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

“Fuck off,” Tommy crossed his arms. “All I said was that you deserved a fair trial. Sam suggested the trial in the first place, I just suggested the judge.”

Technoblade waved a hand flippantly. “Whatever. My point still stands.” His gaze found Tubbo again. “If you really know so little about Pogtopia’s standing with me, then why do you get to have a say in it? Unless you have an ulterior motive that’s somehow unrelated to November 16th.”

“I’m a president, and I’m running a country of people you hurt,” Tubbo said, his tone clipped and professional. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it was, or who was around for what parts of it. My people want justice for the crimes you committed, and you’ve more than earned it.”

“Don’t act like you’re not being vindictive,” Technoblade countered. “Ever since the festival in Manburg, you-”

Quackity raised his hand. “Objection! Relevance: the Red Festival has nothing to do with Technoblade’s actions on November 16th.”

“Sustained,” Eret said. “Stay on topic. The trial is about your actions on November 16th.” If they did decide to get into what happened at the Red Festival, then this trial would derail in a bad way.

It was clear by the way Tommy straightened, eyes blazing, that he was far from forgiving Technoblade for killing Tubbo. And if Tubbo’s eyes narrowing was any indication, then Eret would say that Tubbo wasn’t nearly as forgiving of the situation as he let others believe.

Technoblade huffed in aggravation. “My point is, I had reasons for why I did what I did, and it’s not my fault if you guys are mad about it. I made it clear I don’t like governments, and that’s on you.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “And we made it clear we didn’t like Schlatt’s government.”

“Whatever.” Technoblade clapped his hands together. “L’Manburg knows my motivations for November 16th and this whole thing is pointless.” He turned and went back to his seat on the bench. “Call your recess. I have no further questions.”

Tubbo glared at the retreating Technoblade but stood and made his way back to the bench with Quackity. They spoke to each other quietly for a moment when Tubbo sat down. Quackity still seemed confident, and Eret couldn’t help but feel that might be bad news for Technoblade.

Eret sighed. “Alright. We’ll have a short recess, and then we’ll reconvene in about five minutes. Sound fair?” There was a ripple of agreement from the audience, which was all Eret needed to step away from the podium. “Then I’ll see you all back here in five minutes.”

Not two seconds after she’d called the recess did Tommy approach him. “Eret!” he called. “Eret, my favorite monarch.” Sam was close behind him, very obviously keeping an eye on Dream. “How do?”

“I’m alright, Tommy.” Eret nodded to Sam in greeting. “Sam. I trust that you’re taking good care of my favorite thief.”

“Oi!” Tommy protested. “I’m not a thief anymore, because Sam’s setting me straight on some shit. Between him and Puffy, I think I’ve nearly been parented to death.” Tommy embellished his sentence with a dramatic sigh that reminded Eret a little of Wilbur’s own dramatic flair.

Sam, on the other hand… well, Sam’s eye crinkled a bit when the word parent left Tommy’s mouth. Eret knew that could mean anything, and maybe Sam was just particularly fond of Tommy. It could mean nothing, simply Sam finding Tommy’s energetic nature mildly amusing.

Or it could mean everything, and Sam was considering it.

“Anyway!” Tommy said. “I’ve got to talk to Tubbo.” He darted away before Eret could give a response, but she didn’t mind. The big man Tommy Innit had things to do. Always on the move, that one.

“Sam,” Eret said before the creeper hybrid could wander off after Tommy. “Can I ask you something?”

Sam blinked. “Oh. Sure, go ahead.”

“Tommy has been under your care for a while now,” Eret said. “How’s that been?”

“You know, I actually think it’s going pretty well.“ Sam watched Tommy run to Tubbo and Ranboo . “It’s been great having him around, honestly. He’s a good kid.” Eret noted that Sam almost sounded defensive, like he was expecting Eret to disagree.

But Eret didn’t disagree. “He really is, isn’t he.” Sam seemed to relax at that. “I mean, he could probably steal a little less, but then again, I suppose everyone steals.” Besides, the stealing, the pranks, were… interesting little quirks of Tommy’s. Eret could admit that it made the teenager endearing, somehow. In a mischievous, raccoon-esque way.

Sam laughed. “I’ve been working on the stealing thing, don’t worry. The anger thing, too. But I think Puffy is more equipped to handle that one.”

“Have you considered becoming a more… permanent part of Tommy’s life?” Eret asked.

“Define permanent,” said Sam. “I don’t plan on leaving him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Eret shook their head. “Not at all. I think you’re one of the only people I trust to not leave Tommy alone.” They glanced over to see Tommy talking with Ranboo and Tubbo. “I’m merely suggesting you make things a little more official. If you and Tommy want it.”

Sam froze. “I… I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t considered it,” he admitted. “But I don’t even know if that’s what Tommy wants. And there’s been so much going on, I didn’t want to give him another thing to think about.”

“If I may,” Eret said. “I made the mistake of not taking my chance when I could. I’d hate to see you make the same mistake I made.” They nodded to Tommy. “He needs someone, Sam. And I think that someone is you.”

“The same mistake you made?” Sam asked. “Who…?”

Eret sighed. “Fundy. I was going to adopt him, but I missed the court date.” Their gaze found the fox hybrid, who was still sitting in the crowd. “I’ve done a lot of wrong in my life, Sam. But leaving Fundy when he needed me is the one thing I might never forgive myself for.”

Sam hesitated. “What if Tommy doesn’t want me to be his… what if Tommy doesn’t want to be adopted?” he asked. “I don’t want to ruin the relationship we have by asking him something so life-changing. I don’t want him to feel like I’m trying to substitute something he never really got to have.”

”Even if Tommy decides that he doesn’t want you to be his father, the fact that you’re willing to offer will mean everything to him.” Eret smiled. “He’ll know you mean well, Sam. Even if he doesn’t want you to adopt him.”

“Well, I still want to wait,” Sam said. “At least until the trial is over and everything calms down. He’s still trying to get his discs back.”

Eret put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Well, I can help with ‘calming things down’. I know Tommy’s worried about L’Manburg executing Technoblade, and I assure you that it’s not going to happen.”

Sam chuckled. “Funnily enough, I think that’s the one thing Tommy isn’t worried about,” he said, fondness softening his tone. “He already knows that you won’t have Technoblade executed. It was part of the reason he wanted you to be the judge. He knew you wouldn’t want to start another war.”

And of course Tommy had known. Tommy, who was always so quick to forgive. Always so ready to put his faith in people who didn’t deserve it. “Tommy’s a smart kid,” Eret said. “A lot smarter than most people give him credit for.”

“I’ve noticed,” Sam replied. “Wilbur’s younger brother, through and through.” Sam paused for a moment. “I mean that in the best way possible, of course. Not that I think Tommy would ever end up like… you know.”

“I understand,” Eret assured him. “This server has failed the kids in more ways than I can count, but the one thing I know is that these children will never become their predecessors.” He gestured for Sam to go to Tommy. “I’ve got to start the trial again soon. Do me a favor, and just remember my advice.”

“I’ll take it into consideration,” Sam promised.

Eret smiled to herself as Sam went to join Tommy. She hoped she would be the judge for another trial soon. Sam really would make a wonderful father.

Notes:

Not too much happening in this one, but Quackity gets to present his evidence in the next chapter, so it's about to fucking go down. I'm between POVs on this next part, though. I kinda want to do a Technoblade POV, but I think it'd also be fun to do a Phil one. Maybe Quackity.

Anyway, I'm excited to have this trial going on. Just for reference where this is, like, in terms of canon? The trial is kind of taking place of the execution. Tubbo is still going to have his festival after this, but not until we have some more bonding time with the characters.

Which characters, you ask? I'm glad you asked. And the answer is: whichever duos I decide give me the most serotonin to write.

Chapter 38: Pride and Evidence

Notes:

Quackity gets to present his evidence, fuck yeah! I have waited so long to write this part, I was so fucking excited. This part and the Green Festival, I think, are the two things I'm most excited about writing.

anyhow, here's Quackity being annoyingly badass. because he is a badass, but he is also a smug bastard, and I love that for him.

Despite the fact that the courtroom was surprisingly calm, Phil felt like things were slowly spiraling out of control. Nothing about it made sense, and Phil had heard about none of it in the letters he’d received from Wilbur.

When exactly had Schlatt been in power? According to Wilbur, Schlatt had lost. And the Red Festival? Never mentioned once.

The recess didn’t give Phil nearly enough time to process things, but he was trying. If he was honest with himself, he was beginning to have an odd feeling about the whole thing. The recess seemed calm enough, but the glares that got sent Techno’s way didn’t go unnoticed.

And something about the Red Festival wasn’t sitting right with him, either. It was only mentioned briefly, but everyone seemed to have strong opinions about it. Especially Tubbo and Tommy, both of their gazes flashing at the mention of it.

He was beginning to think that maybe his friend wasn’t as innocent in this as he was led to believe. Which was… unsettling, to say the least. It made him question how much he really knew about this server.

It made him question how much he knew about his friend. That wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have to question.

The amount of questions the trial had raised was staggering. Phil knew of Schlatt, of course, but Quackity had said that Schlatt was in power. Phil had expected Tubbo to deny it, because Wilbur had been the president, according to the letters he’d received, but he… didn’t.

“Mate,” Phil nudged Technoblade, “what’s all this about Schlatt being president? When was this?”

Technoblade shrugged. “Eh, there was a whole election thing before Wilbur and Tommy got exiled.”

“Exiled?” Phil asked. “Wilbur said he left Manburg. Willingly.”

“Well, Wilbur lied,” Technoblade said simply. “Schlatt won the election, and he exiled Wilbur and Tommy. It was, like, the first thing he did as president. How do you think Pogtopia became a thing?”

Phil wasn’t sure he knew the answer to that anymore. “I thought… Wilbur said-” He turned to find someone in the crowd, someone who would know Wilbur better than he did. His gaze found family. Fundy. “I think I need to ask some questions after this trial is over.”

Technoblade gave him an odd look. “I thought Wilbur was writing you letters.”

“He was,” Phil replied. “But I don’t think he told me everything.” Or maybe Wilbur hadn’t told him anything. How much of what Wilbur told him was a lie?

Who else could he ask for answers? Niki was Wilbur’s friend, wasn’t she? Maybe Ghostbur could give him a list of people that Wilbur was close to. Tommy was always an option, he supposed. Probably his best option, if he and Wilbur were really close enough to be called brothers.

Tommy caught his gaze for a moment and quickly looked away. Phil supposed that was fair. He had killed the kid’s brother. If Phil wanted to ask Tommy anything, it’d probably have to wait until after the trial, assuming Tommy didn’t run off as soon as it was over.

Still, even if Tommy could--and was willingly to--answer his questions, that didn’t tell him why he needed those answers in the first place. “I just don’t understand why Wilbur would lie,” Phil wondered aloud. “Techno, you knew him in Pogtopia, didn’t you?”

Technoblade snorted. “I didn’t know him that well. I barely liked the guy when I met him, and that was when exile first started. By the time Schlatt was dead, he was barely tolerable. Ask anyone here, the guy was a certifiable madman.” He nodded to where Tommy was talking animatedly with Ranboo and Tubbo. “The only person who did tolerate Wilbur was his kid brother. You can see how well that worked out for him.”

Phil wondered how Technoblade was saying any of that so calmly. Everything Phil knew about the server was crumbling around him, and Technoblade didn’t seem to think anything was out of place. Nobody seemed to think anything was out of place. For all their glaring, nobody else in the room seemed particularly off-put.

Maybe Phil was the one out of place.

Eret made their way back to the podium. “If everyone could go back to their seats, we can start the second half of the trial.” 

Tommy shot Phil and Techno one last look before giving a small wave to Tubbo. Ranboo and Tommy returned to their place in the audience while Tubbo sat back down next to Quackity. The two politicians spoke quietly to each other for a moment before turning their attention to Eret, which made Phil nervous for reasons he couldn’t quite place.

“Alright,” Eret said. “Technoblade, it’s your turn on the stand.” They looked to Quackity. “Do you have your evidence and questions ready to present?”

Quackity stood, holding up his book of notes. “We’re more than ready.” He gave Technoblade a deceptively friendly smile. “I mean, as long as Technoblade is ready to go.”

Technoblade rolled his eyes. “I really don’t like him,” he mumbled to Phil. Then he stood. “Yeah, I’m ready.” He walked to the stand, his pace leisurely indifferent. “Let’s get this over with.”

The tension was palpable enough to make Phil’s wings twitch as Techno approached the stand. They had agreed to leave Ghostbur back home, just in case things went south, but Phil found himself missing the optimist and his never-ending cheerfulness.

“Technoblade,” Quackity began. “What exactly was the relationship between you and Wilbur in Pogtopia?”

“Business partners,” Technoblade answered. “We wanted the same thing: the end to a corrupt government.”

Quackity hummed. “A corrupt government. What do you benefit from helping L’Manburg with their corrupt government?”

Technoblade shrugged. “Nothing. I just hate governments. I’m an anarchist.”

“Anarchist. Interesting.” Quackity flipped through the pages in his book. “Can you tell me about your acts of terrorism on the sixteenth of November?”

“I spawned two withers,” Technoblade said. “Because L’Manburg betrayed my trust and created a new government.” He scowled. “And I‘ve made it pretty clear that my motivation was rooted in anarchy, not terrorism.”

“Well,” Quackity drawled. “I suppose you have a different definition of anarchy than the Oxford Dictionary.” He turned a page in his notes. “Anarchy. A state of disorder due to absence or nonrecognition of a government.”

“That’s what I just said,” Technoblade said. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time.”

Quackity raised an eyebrow. “Absence of government,” he continued, “and absolute freedom of the individual, regarded as a political ideal.” He snapped the book closed. “Tell me, Technoblade. Are you a citizen of L’Manburg?”

“No, I’m not,” Technoblade replied. “Pretty sure that was Tommy’s entire point about making Eret be the judge.”

Phil glanced at Tommy in the audience. He had spent a majority of the trial looking at the ground, maybe nervous to be back in a court setting. From what Phil had heard, Tommy didn’t have a good track record with the Courthouse.

“And your deal with Wilbur,” Quackity said, recapturing Phil’s attention, “was specifically to get a corrupt government out of power?”

Technoblade sighed. “Yes. How many times do I need to say it? I made a deal with Wilbur to get a corrupt government out of power. What is your point?”

“My point is that your allegiance to L’Manburg ended as soon as Schlatt was out of power,” Quackity replied. “So why did you attack L’Manburg if you weren’t under its government’s jurisdiction and it didn’t affect your absolute freedom as an individual?”

Technoblade was quiet for a moment. “Because I don’t like governments,” he said finally. “I don’t think I need another reason.”

“But L’Manburg isn’t a country that believes in anarchy,” Quackity said. “Therefore, if your deal with Wilbur was fulfilled, and you aren’t a citizen, what happens to our country is no longer your concern. If it doesn’t infringe upon your freedom as an individual, then why bother getting involved?” A smile crept across Quackity’s face. “Unless, maybe, you just wanted to create violence for the sake of violence?”

Phil waited for Technoblade to interject. To say something in his own defense.

Surely there was more to that story, right? L’Manburg had to have provoked Technoblade somehow, because it didn’t make sense otherwise. As much as Phil hated to admit it, Quackity had a point. Technoblade wasn’t part of L’Manburg. Their government or lack thereof really wasn’t his business if the goal was only to get rid of Schlatt.

Technoblade, to Phil’s dismay, was silent.

“Terrorism, according to Oxford,” Quackity was back to looking at his notes. “Is the unlawful use of violence and intimidation, especially against civilians, in the pursuit of political aims.” He glanced up. “You’ve claimed anarchy as your political view, yeah?”

“I’ve stated that several times.”

“Just to make sure I’ve got this right,” Quackity snapped the book closed. “Was there a government in the snow biome that was infringing upon your freedom as of the sixteenth of November?”

Technoblade set his jaw in a way that Phil knew all too well. The voices were probably overwhelming him with the added pressure of an audience. “No, there wasn’t.”

“Then what part of your attack was in line with the definition of anarchy?” Quackity asked. ”Not only have you incorrectly defined what you claim are your core political views in order to justify violence, but you’ve also committed terrorism in the name of that incorrectly defined anarchy.” His smug expression was just barely concealed by an easy smile. “Does that sound about right?”

Technoblade’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing. Phil knew that his friend was a proud man, and he never liked to be wrong. Phil was also a proud man, but he wasn’t a stupid one. Technoblade was undoubtedly guilty. Phil be a fool to disagree, there was too much evidence.

Quackity seemed fine with not receiving a response. “Your silence speaks volumes, Technoblade.” He nodded to Eret. “I’m finished here. Unless Technoblade has something to say in his own defense, I see no reason to continue dragging this trial on.”

“I’ll decide when the trial is over,” Eret said calmly. “Thank you, Quackity.” She turned to Technoblade, who had yet to leave the stand. “Technoblade? If there’s anything you’d like to say to defend yourself, now would be the time.”

Technoblade glanced around at the expectant audience. “Uh-” He cleared his throat. “Look, I don’t claim to be a perfect person,” he said. “Frankly, I don’t believe that I’m wrong. I think governments are doomed to be corrupt, and there isn’t much that could change my mind.

“But,” he continued, “I do see how my actions may have come off as… harsh.” He shrugged. “Maybe I should have talked to Wilbur. Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped straight into violence. Maybe I should have just left the country to fall apart on its own. I don’t know.

“What I do know is that governments will saddle the few with the sins of the many,” Technoblade said. “You make teenagers your presidents and send them into duels. Governments create heroes that they can blame when everything goes wrong, and I’m tired of seeing it happen.” He stood. “Execute me if you want. But what happens after will be entirely the government’s fault.”

Eret waited until Technoblade had returned to the bench before speaking. “If the court would be kind enough to give me a few minutes, I’ll need time to deliberate.”

“Take all the time you need,” Quackity said easily. The audience began to murmur as Eret walked away from the podium.

Phil leaned to Technoblade while they had a moment of reprieve. “Mate, what’s the plan if this goes sideways?”

Technoblade sighed. “Honestly? I didn’t plan for their evidence to be that solid. He pulled out the dictionary on me, Phil. I actually almost regret spawning those withers.” He watched Eret walk away with a thoughtful look on his face. “But I don’t think we have anything to worry about. Not from Eret, at least.”

“Why not?” Phil gestured to Tommy in the audience. “You saw what happened to Tommy.”

“I know,” Technoblade replied. “And Tommy said we wouldn’t have anything to worry about from Eret.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “And you… trust him on that?”

“I actually do,” Technoblade said. “This server tends to underestimate Tommy, but the kid didn’t survive war and exile by being stupid. He’s naive, maybe, and annoyingly stubborn, but not stupid. So, if Tommy says Eret won’t execute me, then I trust him.”

“If you say so, mate.” Phil leaned back in his seat. “I hope he’s right. It wouldn’t be easy to fight our way out of this place.”

Technoblade hummed. “Yeah. And even if we did get out, they already know where we live.” He gave Phil a pointed look. “You know, almost like someone left a compass that leads directly to my house or something.”

“In my defense,” Phil protested, “Tommy knew where you were and he didn’t have my compass. Maybe your house is just easy to find.”

“Chat says that Tommy finding my house was a plot device,” Techno explained. “He’s got some main character thing going on right now.”

Phil laughed, somewhat eased by the small smile gracing his friend’s features. He still had questions, but he was content for the moment. They just had to survive the sentencing, and then they could go back to their turtle farm in the snow biome.

And maybe he could get a few answers when everything settled.

Notes:

Look, as much as I don't like c!Techno, I couldn't resist giving him just a little baby monologue. Just an itty bitty one. As a treat.

Also, Phil has literally no idea what the fuck is going on with this trial, or anything else on the server. Mans asked *zero* about that son he murdered, and it's gonna bite him in the ass. Sir, your child is one mean son of a bastard. I'd say son of a bitch, but that would be insulting Kristen, and I simply will not do that.

Anyhoo. Now we just have the sentencing! Which is going to be pretty fun. Not the most exciting thing, story-wise, but you get another Tubbo POV out of it, so that's nice. Love c!Tubbo. That boy does not get enough recognition for his character depth.

Chapter 39: Little Rubber Bands

Notes:

Hee hoo, just a little Tubbo POV. Not much to say here, other than... idk, prepare your feels or something. Things between Tubbo and Tommy get a little intense in this one.

Also! I found out that the person on TikTok who inspired me to write this fic actually? reads the fic? Vinnie, if you're seeing this, you're fucking awesome, and I love your videos about c!Sam.

Tubbo thought the trial couldn’t possibly be any longer, and yet he found the end of the trial coming much too soon. Eret was already preparing to give the sentencing, but Tubbo felt about as far from prepared as he could be. He was on the edge of his set and feeling like he wanted to curl into a ball to hide.

Surely Eret would bring Technoblade to justice. Eret would do the right thing, they were too apologetic for their own past betrayal to do something wrong again.

“Tubbo,” Quackity said. “You okay, man?”

“Nervous,” Tubbo admitted. “I know I was against the trial idea, but I must admit, it was kind of funny to see Technoblade put on the spot. As fucked up as that sounds.” He gave Quackity a smile. “You did great, by the way.”

Quackity preened a bit. “Thanks.” He drummed his fingers against his book of notes. “And I get it, you know? The fucked up thing about… putting someone in their place, I guess. I get it. It felt good laying out all of Technoblade’s shit and making everyone see how fucked up he is.”

“To be fair,” Tubbo said, “I think a lot of people already knew. He did turn around and start shooting the crowd after he blew me up. I don’t imagine there’s a lot of people here that are big fans of his.”

“True,” Quackity conceded. “Still feels good, though. Cathartic.”

Tubbo nodded. “Yeah, cathartic. That’s a good word for it.” He glanced into the audience, his gaze lingering on Dream. “He’s been awfully quiet, hasn’t he?”

Quackity followed Tubbo’s gaze. “I was thinking the same thing.” They both averted their gazes before they were caught staring. “You don’t think he’s going to pull anything, do you?”

“I think it’s possible,” Tubbo said. “Technoblade is a strong ally to have. I wouldn’t put it past Dream to help him with some kind of ulterior motive in mind. A favour to call in, you know?”

“I wouldn’t put it past Dream to show up just to cause some chaos.” Quackity frowned. “If he could have helped Technoblade, it’s a little too late now. Eret’s already getting ready for the sentencing. If he does have something planned, it’s just gonna be trouble.”

Tubbo found Tommy in the audience. “We don’t need any more trouble. I’ve got enough to deal with as it is.” He still needed to talk to Tommy after the trial, and he already felt drained. He was like a rubber band being stretched taunt. Normally he’d bounce back, plaster on his best smile and move on. But he felt a little too close to snapping for comfort, so he just had to hope Dream didn’t have anything else to tack on to the day.

“Talk to Tommy yet?” Quackity asked, as if reading his mind.

“No,” Tubbo sighed. “I mean, I did before the trial, and during the recess, but not about… exile, or anything like that. I also kind of want to know more about Wilbur in Pogtopia, maybe open up about Schlatt a little. Those are kind of hard subjects to bring up.”

Quackity raised an eyebrow. “Hard subjects for you or for him?”

“Both, I guess?” Tubbo ran a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s just nerves on my part. It’s Tommy that got stuck with Wilbur and Dream.”

“And you got stuck with Schlatt and Techno,” Quackity said. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

Tubbo waved a hand flippantly. “Alright, save unpacking the trauma for after we get done with Techno.”

“And what do we do about Dream?”

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Tubbo replied. “Best we can do, for the moment.”

Quackity nodded. “We agree that he’s the next name on the list, right?”

“He’s definitely the next name on the list,” Tubbo confirmed. “We’ll talk more about it later, after the dust settles and I make sure Tommy’s safe. We can’t risk Dream lashing out at him again.” That was one thing Quackity had been right about, Dream’s obsession with Tommy.

It was disturbing, the more Tubbo thought about it. Tommy was an instigator, for sure, but what had Tommy done that warranted more punishment than Dream? Burn down a house? Who hadn’t burned down a house or two on the server?

Admittedly, Tubbo had been less frustrated with the actual crime, and more angry with the fact that he had asked Tommy to behave, and his friend had refused. It was why he was more lenient with Ranboo, even though they were both responsible for the crime. Tommy had intentionally gone against what Tubbo had told him to do.

The stealing really wasn’t even that big of a deal, Tubbo supposed. Materials were replaceable, and George was rarely in his house, anyway. But Tommy knew how it felt to have your home destroyed. Tubbo was angry that he’d even think about doing that to someone else, after everything they’d been through. Not to mention all the fights something like that could--and did--start.

Tommy had been irresponsible, but he seemed better now, with Sam’s help. It did sting a little that Tommy was willing to change for Sam, and not for him. Though, he supposed he’d been stubborn, too. They both had things to forgive each other for.

“If I could have the court’s attention.” Eret’s voice jolted Tommy from his thoughts. “I’d like to get the sentencing underway.” A ripple swept through the crowd of people, agreeably settling down for the most part, though there were a few people that seemed antsy to get this over with and leave.

Tubbo couldn’t blame them. If he had a choice, he’d probably leave, too.

Eret’s gaze moved across the audience, studying every reaction carefully. “I think it’s fair to say there’s no jury needed. Nearly everyone here is a witness, and I think we can all agree that the defendant is overwhelmingly guilty as charged.

Technoblade frowned. “Rigged,” he deadpanned.

“We can take a vote, if you’d like,” Eret replied. They turned to the gathered audience. “Who here believes that Technoblade is guilty of terrorism?” To no one’s surprise, nearly everyone’s hands went up. The only ones that didn’t bother raising their hands were Dream and Punz, who looked entirely uninterested in participating. “I think that settles it.”

“Fine,” Technoblade relented. “Do your sentencing.” He looked ready for a fight. Though, Tubbo supposed Technoblade always looked ready for a fight. A lot of people on the server did. Maybe that’s what happened when the most common occurrences on a server were wars.

“Technoblade,” Eret said. “You have been found guilty of terrorism.” Tubbo leaned forward a bit. “And as the king of the Dream SMP, I have decided that your punishment should be as harsh as your crimes.” Tubbo felt almost excited. Probably more excited than he should. “Which is why I have decided to make sure you won’t hurt anyone else without provocation.

“You are no longer welcome within the walls of L’Manburg without Tubbo’s explicit permission,” Eret said firmly. “I will be accompanying you and Phil back to your property in the snow biome to confiscate any weapons.” Technoblade’s eyes narrowed at that, but he said nothing. “And,” Eret continued, “you’re not to make more weapons, nor will your weapons be returned to you, until you’ve proven that you can be trusted with them.”

Tubbo waited for the rest. That couldn’t be it, could it? Technoblade couldn't have any weapons for a little bit?

Quackity stood. “Is that it? He released withers on our country, and you’re putting him in fucking time-out?”  

“I don’t know what you expected from this trial, Quackity,” Eret said calmly. “But if you were aiming for an execution, then I’m sorry to disappoint.”

Tubbo felt anger curling in his chest, the rubber band of his calm facade stretching tighter. “Why not?” he asked. “I’d say he’s more than earned it.” Technoblade deserved to know how it felt. He deserved to stand on a platform and watch death fly towards him. He deserved to feel the fear that he put Tubbo through.

“Then it’s a good thing that Technoblade’s trial is under my jurisdiction,” Eret replied. “I don’t think I have any right to take his life. I don’t think anyone has the right to take another person’s life, regardless of their crime.” Eret glanced at Technoblade. “No matter how much they may deserve it.”

Technoblade snorted. “Thanks.”

“Unbelievable,” Quackity protested. “Eret, you can’t possibly think that this is fair.”

Eret tilted their head. “I think it doesn’t matter what’s fair and what isn’t,” they said calmly. “I have to take into account the repercussions of my decision. I’ve done enough damage to this server without starting a new war on top of it.”

Quackity’s expression hardened. “So you’re letting a terrorist off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist? How can you even be sure that he’ll hand over his weapons? How are you going to make sure that he won’t make more?”

“You’re talking about me like I’m not already in retirement,” Technolade interjected. “I’m not happy about the monarch taking my weapons, but it’s not like I use them, anyway.” Quackity turned to glare at him. “Unless,” Technoblade drawled. “You want to give me a reason to use them.”

“He’s proving my point!” Quakcity pointed to Technoblade accusingly. “Does that sound like someone who’s learned his lesson?”

Eret shook her head. “Quackity, I’m sorry you disagree with the sentence I’ve given, but I’m not going to change my mind.” She offered a smile, clearly trying to diffuse Quackity. “I’d place him under house arrest, but he rarely leaves the snow biome, anyway.”

Quackity didn’t look placated, and Tubbo felt like the knot of emotions in his chest was rising to his throat. Bitter, angry words threatened to spill out, and Tubbo fought to bite them back. “Is that the end of the trial, then?” he asked as calmly as he could manage. “Is the court dismissed?”

“I’ve said all I need to say,” Eret moved away from the podium. “Unless you two want to accompany me in walking to Technoblade’s house, I’d say we’re done here.”

Tubbo scoffed. “Like I’d want to go anywhere with him,” he said curtly. He’d rather take another firework to the face than go anywhere with Technoblade. “I trust you to take his weapons.”

“Tubbo,” Quackity protested. “We can’t-”

“It’s out of our hands,” Tubbo told Quackity. “Take the loss and move on.” He was struggling to take his own advice, though. He didn’t feel like moving on. He felt like screaming and throwing Quackity’s book of notes at the nearest wall. All the preparation they did, just for Technoblade to lose a few weapons.

It was the most anticlimactic trial Tubbo had ever seen. And Eret had considered putting Technoblade on house arrest? Even Tommy had gotten a worse punishment.

Tommy.

Tubbo looked around at the dispersing crowd, trying to find his friend. Tommy would understand his anger. In the end, he could always rely on Tommy. He had to be just as upset about this. After Technoblade had forced the title of hero on him, telling him to die a Greek hero?

He spotted Tommy walking on the other side of the room, waving down Eret. Maybe Tommy was just as upset as Tubbo was about the outcome of the trial. Arguing a judge’s ruling about a trial seemed like something Tommy would do. Tubbo kind of wished he could do it himself.

“Tommy!” He dodged a couple of people and made his way over to his friend. Tommy didn’t appear to hear him, too busy talking to Eret to notice. He didn’t seem angry, which was… surprising. Tubbo hadn’t expected Tommy to be so calm about the situation.

He could hear Tommy talking as he drew closer. “Thanks again for agreeing to do the trial,” he was saying. “I knew you wouldn’t kill the bitch, but-”

“Hey,” Phil warned. “Watch the language.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy replied simply.

Technoblade waved him off. “It’s fine, Phil. Let’s just get out of here.” If Technoblade said anything after that, Tubbo didn’t hear it. All he could hear were Tommy’s words clouding his thoughts. Tommy said he knew Eret wouldn’t execute Technoblade.

I just hope Eret does the right thing here.

Tommy said they both knew what the right thing was. Tommy had lied to him, right to his face, and said that they both knew what the right thing was.

Tubbo felt like there was ice seeping into his veins. This wasn’t like Tommy’s usual lies. This wasn’t a loud, playful sort of lie that would keep him out of--or get him into--trouble. This lie was quiet and calculated, and Tubbo felt sick thinking of the people who’d be capable of that kind of lying.

Technoblade and Phil disappeared with a wave to Tommy, Eret following close behind. Tubbo stared for a few moments before speaking, struggling to find his words around the lump of betrayal in his throat. “You knew.”

Tommy jumped, whirling around in surprise. “Tubbo! I didn’t even hear you-”

“You knew that Eret wouldn’t execute Technoblade?” Tubbo asked, already knowing the answer. “You lied to me?”

Tommy had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. “Well… I didn’t lie, exactly.” He glanced away. “I just didn’t tell you- I mean, that was part of the reason I said Eret should do the trial, but it wasn’t the only reason.”

“Seriously?” Tubbo felt the familiar heat of anger rising in his throat again. “I was trying to get justice for the citizens of my country, and you intentionally made it so that I couldn’t do that?” Tommy’s gaze flicked to him, and then to the floor. “Tommy, do you realize how fucking unfair that is?”

“Since when do you care about what’s fair?” Tommy muttered. “Why couldn’t you care about fairness when Dream was dragging me away to Logstedshire?”

“I did  care,” Tubbo protested. “I wouldn’t have done it if I had the option not to, Tommy.”

If this were the Tommy that Tubbo remembered, this argument would already be over. Tommy would have already said something in anger. Something impulsive and mean, something that he didn’t mean. If this were the Tommy that Tubbo remembered, then his best friend would be the one to snap first.

But Tommy had changed from the friend that Tubbo knew. Tommy had changed so much that Tubbo hardly recognized him anymore. And Tubbo… hadn’t. He hadn’t changed like Tommy had. He was still just President Tubbo, and he was already much too close to snapping.

“You did have the option not to,” Tommy said shortly. “You told me you wouldn’t send me away, and you did it anyway.” He scoffed, a bitter smile finding its way to his face. “But I’m just supposed to be okay with that, right? I just have to accept that my best friend lied and gave in to Dream.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo seethed, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Because maybe peace was worth whatever I had to sacrifice to get it! Including you!” He snapped his mouth shut, his heart stuttering as the words registered.

Tommy’s smile fell, his eyes wide and filled with hurt. Tubbo felt guilt curl in his stomach as he realized, with horrifying clarity, that he had snapped first.

The expression on Tommy’s face was something Tubbo hadn’t seen since their Pogtopia days. The days when Tommy could be cut down by just a harsh statement from Wilbur. It was crumpled and defeated and hurt, but it was aimed at Tubbo. Not Wilbur. Because Wilbur wasn’t around to hurt Tommy anymore.

Wilbur was gone. And Schlatt was gone. Wilbur and Schlatt were gone, and that should have brought relief and a sense of peace. No one should have been able to hurt them anymore.

And yet, there Tommy and Tubbo stood, just alive enough to hurt each other, and every bit as broken as they ever were.

It made him wish that Tommy would just say something , because the quiet was too much and he couldn’t take it.

“Fuck you, Tubbo.” Tommy’s expression shifted, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. “Actually fuck you, Tubbo. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tubbo said quickly. “Tommy-”

“No, that’s fucking fine, innit?” Tommy seethed. “I give up my discs for this country’s independance and I give up my freedom so Dream will take down some stupid walls.” He gestured around him, flailing and angry. “Tommy Innit sacrifices himself loads of times, everyone else should get to do it, too, right?”

This was exactly the reason Tubbo hated leading with his emotions. It never did anyone any favors to be emotional, it only ever got people hurt. Especially when you didn’t mean for it to. “Tommy, that’s not what I meant!”

Tommy took a step back from him. “Then what did you mean?” he demanded. “No, go ahead and tell me how that isn’t the most fucked up thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“What’s going on?” Tubbo turned to see Ranboo approaching them, worry creasing his brow. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Tommy said testily. “Just fine, right, Tubbo?”

Tubbo didn’t know how Tommy managed to stretch the broken pieces of a rubber band, but he already felt close to snapping again. “I don’t know what you expected me to do, Tommy! You burned down someone’s fucking house!”

“That was an accident.”

“You-!” Tubbo blinked. Tommy wasn’t the one who’d spoken. He gave Ranboo a blank stare, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. “What’d you say?”

Ranboo looked between Tommy and Tubbo. “I… just said that burning down George’s house was an accident.” He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “And we didn’t even burn it down, really. It was just a couple of blocks.” He gave them both a confused stare. “Is that what you guys are arguing about?”

Tubbo blinked. “You didn’t…” Tommy looked away from him, his gray eyes storming with barely concealed anger. “What the hell is he talking about?”

“What’s it sound like?” Tommy muttered. “Ranboo didn’t fucking stutter.”

Part of Tubbo was relieved. Tommy hadn’t intentionally set fire to George’s house on fire. Tommy didn’t mean to ruin anyone’s home.

But a much larger part of Tubbo was horrified. Because that meant he’d left Tommy alone with Dream over a mistake. Tommy had nearly died in exile. All because of an accident.

“I didn’t know,” Tubbo tried. “I didn’t… you never-”

“Maybe next time,” Tommy cut him off, “when I say Dream is a right bastard, you’ll fucking believe me.”

Before Tubbo could respond, another voice interrupted him. “Tommy,” Sam said, his eyes crinkling with a warm, oblivious smile. “Are you ready to go home?”

Tommy pointedly turned away from Tubbo. “Yeah,” he said stiffly. “I’m ready to go home.”

Sam gave Tubbo a confused glance, apparently picking up on Tommy’s hostility. “Okay. Let’s go head and head out, then.”

Tubbo watched them leave, only vaguely aware of Ranboo hovering over him. “Tubbo?” he asked anxiously. “Tubbo, are you okay?”

Somewhere behind him was Dream. He hadn’t seen the admin leave, so he could only assume that he was still present in the Courthouse, maybe talking with Punz. Also behind him, somewhere, was Quackity, the man with a hit list. Neither one of them could see him waver, or else there’d be hell to pay.

He’d try talking to Tommy again later. But one thing he was sure about was that he could never lead with his emotions like that again. As far as the rest of the server was concerned, Tubbo was just as collected and serious, exactly as he had been through his entire presidency.

He could fix what he’d broken with Tommy. Later.

For now, he was completely, totally, unequivocally, “Fine.” Tubbo straightened and took a deep breath. “I’m perfectly fucking fine.”

Notes:

I have been waiting to write Tubbo's line since the beginning of the fic. No joke, that got written before I finished writing chapter one.

It's important to remember that Tubbo is also an extremely stressed and very hurt teenager. His lashing out is not okay, but he's gonna have to learn just like Tommy did. Instead of confronting his anger and what caused it, he's just going to double down on the "I'll keep all my emotions right here, and then one day I'll die" thing. Because that's a method that works, and doesn't get his friend hurt.

They will make amends, don't worry. There's gonna be some shit that happens, but they will eventually talk out their frustrations.

Chapter 40: Going Home

Notes:

woooooo, got a lot of plot shit out of the way and now i get to do a fluffy chapter

If Sam had learned anything about Tommy, it was that he was a very bold person. Bold and loud. He was loud when he was happy and sad and angry. Sam couldn’t think of a time when Tommy wasn’t shouting and cursing about something or another, out of excitement and fear.

He wasn’t quite sure what to do about a quiet Tommy.

Tommy hadn’t said a word since leaving L’Manburg, and he also hadn’t stopped trembling. His fists were clenched at his sides as he took too-long strides.

“Are you okay, Tommy?”

“Fine.” Tommy walked faster. “I’m perfectly fucking fine.” He sounded anything but fine. Sam knew better than to press, though, so he didn’t ask anymore questions while they walked.

What would Puffy do in a situation like this? A child raised in war, too angry to be shouting, and a long list of unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Sam glanced through his inventory. They hadn’t been allowed to bring weapons to the Courthouse, but Sam never went anywhere without some tools. He had a few potions, some ender pearls, and a pickaxe. It wasn’t much to work with, but it would have to do.

“Let’s go this way,” Sam said suddenly, changing his direction.

Tommy stopped walking. “Sam, what the fuck are you doing?”

“We’re going this way,” Sam said again. “We’re gonna mine for a little bit before we go home.”

“Whatever,” Tommy snapped, but he followed Sam anyway. Sam silently congratulated himself. The goal was to keep Tommy directed. Give him something to focus on so that he couldn’t spiral. Sam was sure Tommy would tell him what was wrong in his own time. That’s how it usually went. As long as Sam didn’t pressure Tommy with a lot of questions, the teenager would open up.

So, they went mining.

It didn’t take long to find an area of stone. Sam had come across it a couple of times when he went out mining, but he hadn’t had much use for stone in his last project, so he ignored it. He was hoping he could get some use out of it now.

He pulled the pickaxe out of his inventory and handed it to Tommy. “Here. Go ahead.”

“What the fuck do we need stone for?” Tommy asked.

Sam shrugged. “Nothing in particular. It’s just something to do.”

“Just something to do,” Tommy grumbled. “Fine.” He snatched the pickaxe from Sam and started swinging at the stone. “I’m Sam,” he mocked, “and I mine stone for fun because I’m unpog and-” He straightened and glared at Sam. “Why aren’t you helping?”

“I’m watching,” Sam replied. “This is for you, not for me.”

Tommy scoffed. “And what am I supposed to do with a shit ton of stone, eh?”

“Whatever you want.” Sam crossed his arms. “I’m happy to help if you need me to. I’ll take a turn whenever you get tired.” Tommy gave him a defiant glare and started swinging the pickaxe again. The swings were wild and angry, and it barely chipped away at the stone.

He mined for all of three minutes before handing the pickaxe back to Sam. “Here.”

Sam took the pickaxe from him. “Tired already?”

“No,” Tommy said stubbornly. “I just don’t want to fucking do this.”

“Okay.” Sam walked over and started in on the same spot that Tommy had been mining. There was hardly a dent, so Sam swung, full force and methodical, carving through the stone much faster than Tommy had. He could hear Tommy behind him, shifting restlessly, but he ignored it.

Not two minutes later was Tommy at his side. “Give it back.”

Sam looked down at him. “Hm?”

“Give me the fucking pickaxe,” Tommy repeated. “Your mining skills are boring me.”

“You sure?” Sam asked. “I thought you didn’t want to mine.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “That was before you started fucking boring me to death.” He held out his hand. “Now will you please hand me the fucking pickaxe?”

Sam smiled and handed him the pickaxe. “Sure. All you had to do was ask.”

All he received in response was a string of muttered curses. And the curses continued as Tommy started mining again. His swings were better timed this time, though they were still more violent than they were productive. It was still progress, in Sam’s book.

Another five minutes or so passed, and Tommy’s swing grew slower. There was no shortage of strength behind the swings, Tommy was a seriously strong kid, especially with his frame looking a little less like a skeleton. Five more minutes, and Tommy was swinging at Sam’s pace. Methodical and practiced.

Tommy pulled away from the stone and tossed the pickaxe aside. “Now what? We have a bunch of fucking stone.”

Sam gestured vaguely. “I told you: do whatever you want with it.”

“Seriously?” Tommy looked at the stone. “Fine.” He gathered the blocks of stone and started arranging them in a square around him. He built up until he had something resembling walls, and then he disappeared behind them.

There was no ceiling. Even if he didn’t want to be seen, he was still claustrophobic.

Well, Sam didn’t have anywhere to be. He settled against a wall and sat down, watching the grass sway in the wind. If Tommy heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it, and the two of them sat in comfortable quiet.

Sam wasn’t sure how long they sat there in perfect silence, but eventually Tommy broke, “Sam? Are you out there, still?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Tommy said. “I was just checking.” His anger sounded muted now. Simmering under the surface, but not quite the explosive thing that it usually was. “Tubbo fucking pissed me off, Sam.”

That much was obvious. “You wanna talk about it?”

Tommy made an unsure noise. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m going to get pissed off again if I say it.”

“We can wait, if you want,” Sam suggested. “You don’t have to tell me right now, if you think it’s just gonna bring up some bad emotions.”

“Okay,” Tommy said slowly. “Then what the fuck do I do?”

Sam thought for a moment. “We can just talk,” he decided. “We don’t even have to leave this spot.” Sam knew Tommy never liked to show weakness. He was probably fighting back tears behind those stone walls, and Sam didn’t dare make him uncomfortable by suggesting that he leave. They’d go home whenever Tommy felt he was okay enough to do so.

Tommy sighed. “Tubbo wanted me to go back to L’Manburg. He gave Dream my other disc.”

“I know.”

“When Dream- when I found out, I didn’t know if I even wanted to go back,” Tommy admitted. “Big Q and I talked about it… you know, before the trial. I don’t know.” There was rustling behind the wall. Sam could almost imagine Tommy pulling his knees to his chest.  Just one more wall. “But I definitely don’t want to go back now. It’s not worth being the vice-president of that stupid country. Big Q can keep the job.”

Sam wanted to ask what had solidified his decision, but he wasn’t sure if Tommy was quite up for that yet. “What would you do instead?” he asked instead. “If you decide not to be the vice-president of L’Manburg, then what would you want to do?”

Tommy was quiet for a few moments. “I want to build a hotel,” he said finally. “I just- I don’t want anyone to go through what I did, Sam. Not having anywhere to go, it… it fucking sucks.”

“That’s great, Tommy.” And Sam meant that. “I could help you build it.”

“Big Q said that, too,” Tommy said. “He said I should commission you. And that you’d let me stay, if… I decided to not go back.”

Sam wouldn’t exactly mind if Tommy stayed with him. If his conversation with Eret was any indication, making Tommy a more permanent part of his life was definitely something he needed to be taking into consideration.

He was more than considering it, really. He wanted it. No matter if Tommy went back to L’Manburg or stayed with him at the base, he wanted to be there for Tommy. The kid deserved someone to be there for him. The kid who had sacrificed everything deserved to have just one good fucking thing in his life.

“Quackity’s right, you know,” Sam told Tommy gently. “I really wouldn’t mind if you stayed with me. I’ve always said that you can stay with me as long as you want. Indefinitely, if you want. If you don’t want to go back to L’Manburg, I’m not going to make you.”

“I know,” Tommy mumbled. “You’re too fucking nice to me, you know that, Sam? It’s sickening how nice you are.”

Sam hummed. “You know, I think I’m a pretty normal amount of nice,” he said thoughtfully. “I think maybe you’re just not used to people being nice to you.”

Tommy fell silent again. Sam waited patiently for an answer, knowing Tommy struggled with accepting help of any kind, no matter how willingly it was given. He’d wait an hour, if he had to. However long Tommy needed him to wait.

He ended up waiting about five seconds.

The stone behind him shifted as Tommy pushed away a couple of blocks. Sam moved so that he could see Tommy poking his head out of his makeshift walls. His eyes were just starting to get their color back, a steel blue that didn’t quite have the vibrance they used to.

Sam watched as Tommy pulled himself out of the stone structure and sat on the grass next to Sam. He fiddled with the hem of his sleeve for a while before he spoke. “I think Tubbo did that thing that I do all the time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Tommy cleared his throat. “He said something, and it… hurt. Like, it really hurt, but I don’t think he really meant it. Or maybe he did mean it and he just- you know, said it angrier than he meant to.” He twisted the edge of his sleeve in his hand. “I’m trying to be better about that. I think I would have done the same thing, if you and Puffy hadn’t helped me.

“I think if I hadn’t… like, if I had gone to Technoblade, or something, I think I would have just gotten angrier. I think I might have snapped first.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “But you helped me, and I think I’m doing better, but everything still sucks.”

Maybe now was a good time to ask, “Do you want to talk about what Tubbo said?”

Tommy waved a hand flippantly. “Just some bullshit about… he’s really set on acting like he’s some big man making hard decisions, like nobody else had ever made a difficult decision before.” He dropped his hand to his side. “He said, uh… that having peace was worth whatever he had to sacrifice to get it. Including me.”

Sam felt a surge of sadness for the teenager beside him. “That… that’s kinda fucked up, Tommy.”

“I know,” Tommy said. “But I don’t think he really meant it. He said that’s not what he meant, but it- it kinda feels like the truth, you know? Maybe putting me in exile with… with Dream… maybe it really was worth it in the end. It wasn’t- I kinda deserved it, anyway.”

“Tommy,” Sam said softly. “No. You didn’t deserve that. Dream, he…” He debated his next choice of words. “He abused you,” he settled on. Tommy never did like it when people sugar-coated things for him. He hated the pity. “I know it’s hard to think about, and even harder to accept, but he did. And you didn’t deserve it.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “But if I didn’t deserve it, then why?” His voice broke at the end of the sentence. “Why me, Sam? If I didn’t deserve it, then why does it keep happening? Why can’t I ever do anything right?”

“Because Dream is cruel,” Sam answered. “Tommy, I couldn’t even begin to count all the ways Dream is a seriously messed up person.”

“Maybe I’m a messed up person,” Tommy said. “You ever think of that? Maybe I’m the one that’s fucked up in the head. Maybe Dream’s right, maybe I really did fuck up this entire server.” He tugged at his hair anxiously. “Tubbo’s right, I deserved exile. I did deserve it, I-”

Sam put a hand on Tommy’s arm. “Hey, Tommy, look at me.” Tommy tensed a little, releasing his hair,but keeping his hands hovering near his head as looked up at Sam nervously. “You are the most selfless person I have ever met, and it is not your fault if other people can’t see that.”

“But-”

Not letting Tommy finish his sentence, Sam reached out and took Tommy’s hands in his, gently bringing them down. “I have seen you give up so much, over and over again, for your country and your friends. Nobody would deserve to go through that, especially not you.”

“Isn’t it worth it, though?” Tommy asked. “If- if everyone else is safe, then-”

“Tommy, you’re a kid,” Sam said. “You don’t deserve exile, you deserve to… I don’t know, pick flowers in a field because no one’s making you fight a war. You deserve to play with your pet and not have to worry about someone killing it. You deserve so much, Tommy. You deserve everything.”

Tommy stared at him like he’d spoken a foreign language. Sam often forgot how much of a stranger Tommy was to kindness. It was genuinely heartbreaking to see the confusion on Tommy’s face when confronted with something softer than swords and TNT.

“Why do you care so much?” Tommy asked. “What- what do you get out of this? What’s the endgame for you?” What do you want from me? Tommy had asked him so many times, waiting for Sam to make his demands, but there were none to give.

“I care because you deserve to be cared for,” Sam answered. “And I’m happy to be the person that does. I want to be here for you, Tommy.” He offered a smile. “There’s no endgame. No lies, no manipulation, nothing. I just want to see you happy.”

There was a pause. “I don’t make that easy,” he said quietly. “I know I don’t. I’m not a very happy person. Most people find me annoying, actually. I’m surprised you don’t.”

Sam carefully ruffled his hair. “How could anyone find the biggest man on the server annoying?”

Tommy swatted at Sam’s hand half-heartedly. “Shut up,” he said, but there was a smile under all the defenses that made Sam’s heart soar. He’d successfully helped Tommy, and he hadn’t even needed to call Puffy this time. He was getting better. Tommy was getting better.

And, god, did Tommy deserve to feel better.

“Can we go home?” Tommy asked. “I want to see the bitch.” Fran, of course. Ever the animal lover, Tommy Innit.

Sam stood and held out a hand for Tommy to take. “Yeah, Tommy,” he said warmly, helping the teenager stand, “we can go home.”

Notes:

Tommy on his healing arc. Tommy deserves love and care. Tommy deserves good things.
bbbbbbbbbb, I wrote this chapter in one day, sorry if it sucks, i just wanna write healing Tommy now that plot shit is done (for now).

Every soft chapter is specifically targeting a mutual on TikTok. Yes, you. Every time Sam starts thinking of Tommy as 'his kid', it is a very direct soft and squishy attack on you <3

Chapter 41: White Lies

Notes:

Okay, you guys got AweSamDad fluff last chapter, and now you get Wilbur-related angst. Phil is gonna be asking those burning questions he's been keeping pent up since the trial, and it's gonna go great.

And by "It's gonna go great", I actually mean "Tommy would rather talk about literally anything else."

It was a couple of days before Tommy felt comfortable enough to leave Sam’s base. If asked, it was definitely not because he was still anxious about Dream. Technically, Dream had no say over where he could go, and couldn’t make him go anywhere, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see the guy.

So, he waited. Sam seemed to understand, sitting with him in the workshop or outside his bedroom door on his bad days.

He was so grateful for Sam. The man clearly didn’t understand every little thing, but he understood when Tommy wanted space and never pressured him for answers that he couldn't--or didn’t want to--give. He also understood when Tommy needed him to lean on, even when Tommy himself couldn’t admit it, and he complied with a quiet kind of acceptance.

Tommy had never liked the quiet before. But Sam made the quiet a little more comfortable, a little less lonely.

The thing that finally got him to venture away from the base was a message from Phil. He wasn’t sure why Phil would reach out to him, of all people. The guy literally had a grandson desperate for attention, but Tommy wasn’t going to argue. It gave him a chance to see Ghostbur, anyway.

And not that he was afraid of running into Dream or anything, but he did have an invis potion in his inventory. He hadn’t asked, Sam had suggested it, and there was no other reason why he had it. He wasn’t afraid.

Tommy Innit wasn’t afraid of anything.

He didn’t bother knocking on Technoblade’s door when he finally got to the house . “Ayup, bitches!”

“Stop barging into my house!” Technoblade called from somewhere in the house.

“Fuck you! It’s cold outside!” He slammed the door shut just to annoy Technoblade a little. He was getting better about the ‘not being annoying’ thing, but he wasn’t perfect. Also, annoying Technoblade was kinda funny.

Ghostbur poked his head into the room, grinning at the sight of his younger brother. “Hi, Tommy!”

“Hello, Ghostbur,” Tommy greeted, sweeping Sam’s cloak off his shoulders and putting it in his inventory. “You doing alright, Big Man? Techno’s not giving you trouble, is he?”

“I’ve been great!” Ghostbur floating around him happily. “It’s really good to see you again. How have you been? Are you still staying with Sam?”

Before Tommy could attempt to answer, another voice cut in with, “One question at a time, Ghostbur.”

Tommy waved to the avian that had entered the room. “Hello, Phil.” He tried to ignore the stab of dread that went through him. It was hard to see Phil and Ghostbur in the same room. “You said you needed to talk to me about something?”

“A couple of different things, if you wouldn’t mind.” He gestured for Tommy to sit. “Just some things about the trial that… aren’t adding up.”

“Aren’t adding up?” Tommy asked. “What do you mean?”

Technoblade poked his head into the room. “He thinks Wilbur might have lied in the letters he wrote.”

Tommy shrugged. “I mean, yeah, probably. Wilbur was a liar.” Ghostbur winced at that, but he didn’t disagree. Alivebur, as the spirit called him, wasn’t a great person.

Phil’s smile thinned. “Right…” Tommy got the idea that Phil didn’t exactly like hearing that his son was less than perfect. How sad for him, Tommy thought bitterly. If Tommy had to deal with his brother’s bullshit, then Phil could stand to hear the truth about it.

“Well, ask away.” Tommy sat down in a chair, gesturing for Phil to continue. “I’m an open book, Philza Minecraft.”

“Alright.” Phil seemed to shake himself from his thoughts. “Well, I think I’d like you to just start from the beginning.”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “The beginning of what? L’Manburg? The election?” He leaned back in his chair. “Wilbur and I started L’Manburg as a ‘fuck you’ to Dream, because he was trying to make us get rid of our drug van.”

Phil looked surprised. “Wilbur started L’Manburg… over a drug van?”

“Pretty much.” Tommy waved a hand flippantly. “He always made it sound like some fantastic revolution, justice and freedom and all that. But, yeah. Just a drug van.” He hesitated. “And we didn’t let in any Americans, which was kind of a dick move on our part, I guess.”

“So, what happened?”

“Eret happened,” Tommy said.

Technoblade walked into the room, holding a potion. He must have been brewing. “The judge from the trial?”

Tommy nodded. “He made a deal with Dream to corner us in the Final Control Room. We aren’t really sure about the details of the situation, but basically Dream, George, Sapnap, and Punz killed me, Fundy, Tubbo, and Wilbur. Then Eret blew up the country and, somehow, ended up being the king of the Greater Dream SMP in exchange.”

“Power corrupts,” Technoblade said simply.

“Hey, shut up,” Tommy snapped. “Eret wanted to be king so that they could have the resources to help people. They went about it the wrong way, but they had good intentions.” Technoblade wasn’t allowed to pass judgement on things he wasn’t around for. Eret had been a prick, but they had their reasons.

Technoblade rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Tommy.” He set the potion he was holding in a chest. “Doesn’t change the fact that he betrayed his friends for power.”

Ghostbur started walking towards the door, a hollow smile on his face. “I have to go check on Friend. I’ll be back in a minute!” Nobody said a word as the ghost left, knowing he couldn’t stand to hear about Alivebur or anything resembling a bad experience.

“Eret and her intentions aside,” Phil said as soon as Ghostbur was out of earshot. “What about the election? Wilbur told me that he won.”

Tommy laughed. “Won? Fuck, no. Schlatt won the election, and Quackity was his vice-president.” He picked at the arm of the chair he was sitting in. “Schlatt exiled us, and we ran to the nearest caves to hunker down. Eret offered us sanctuary, but we chose the ravine, instead.” He scowled. “And then Wilbur created Pogtopia.” He glanced over to Phil. “Why? What’d he tell you?”

Phil blinked. “Not… that.” He cleared his throat. “Wilbur said that he won the election, but he gave the job to Tubbo because he wanted to build another country.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” Tommy replied. “Everyone already lived in L’Manburg. If he decided to make another country, then who would live in it?”

“You-” Phil cut himself off. “Well, I hadn’t considered it, honestly, because I didn’t think Wilbur had any reason to lie to me.”

Tommy snorted. “Wilbur didn’t need a reason to lie. He just lied.” He crossed his arms. “Fucking hell, what else did he tell you? He tell you that everything was just fine and dandy in Pogtopia? Because that’s a lie, too.”

Phil looked pained. “I see… I don’t suppose you could fill me in a little?”

“He yelled a lot.” Tommy tried not to get lost in his memories. “I had to keep talking him down from blowing up L’Manburg, which was a pain in the ass. It was- it sucked, basically.” He glanced away. “I, uh… I tried to help him, I really did, but getting exiled really fucked him up.”

“Sounds like his own problem,” Technoblade rumbled from his corner of the room. “Wilbur wasn’t the only one that got exiled, but he was the only one who let it get to his head.”

That wasn’t quite a reassurance, he could have done more for Wilbur, but it was probably the kindest thing that Technoblade could have managed. “Anyway,” Tommy continued, “then Technoblade came to us about Schlatt, which you already knew from the trial.”

“Yeah,” Phil sent a pointed look to Technoblade, “I knew from the trial.”

“In my defense,” Technoblade intoned. “You never asked me about Pogtopia.”

Tommy laughed. “Oh, yeah. You tell Phil about that time you almost killed me?”

Phil turned to look at Technoblade. “I never really got a clear answer about the Pit, no.” Tommy wasn’t surprised. It was probably another one of the things that ‘never came up’.

Technoblade shrugged, which Tommy took as a sign for him to go ahead. “Technoblade killed Tubbo at the Red Festival on Schlatt’s orders.” He raised his voice a little to make sure Technoblade could hear him say, “Which he definitely did not need to do.”

“Lay off, Tommy,” Technoblade replied without so much as turning around. “We both know I was just trying to gain Schlatt’s trust.”

“Uh-huh,” Tommy said. “And what exactly did you do with all that trust, eh? Was shooting the audience part of gaining Schlatt’s trust?” He grinned at Technoblade’s silence. “You know, you claim to be an anarchist, but caving just because a government official told you to do something… seems like a shit anarchist to me.”

That made Technoblade turn. “There’s no winning with you on this, is there.”

Tommy scoffed. “Fuck, no. You blew up my best friend for no fucking reason and blamed peer pressure like a fucking ten year old.”

“Back to the topic at hand,” Phil said quickly. “I’m assuming that’s what led up to the Pit?”

“Yeah.” Tommy settled back into his chair. “I was pissed off, and Technoblade was treating the whole thing like a fucking joke. So, Wilbur threw us in a big fucking hole and made us fight. I almost died, Technoblade thought it was hilarious, and Wilbur left me alone and bleeding.”

Technoblade hummed. “In my defense, it was pretty funny.”

Phil shot Technoblade a disapproving look. “Techno.”

“I’m kidding,” Technoblade amended. “Kind of.” He glanced out the window, probably checking on Ghostbur. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t exactly enjoy the fight.”

“Could have fooled me,” Tommy muttered. “You and Wilbur seemed to be having a great fucking time.” He sighed. “Anyway. We all cornered Schlatt one day, and Wilbur tried to get me to kill him.” The crossbow had trembled in his hand a bit. Do it, Tommy. “But Fundy, ballsy motherfucker, actually stood up and yelled at the guy for ruining our country.”

Surprisingly enough, Phil looked damn near proud. He vaguely wondered if those two were close before the Butcher Army. “So, what happened? Did you kill him?”

“Nope.” Tommy replied. “Bastard had a heart attack.” He cackled at Phil’s expression. “I know, right? What are the fucking odds?” He composed himself. “And then, with Schlatt gone, Wilbur tried to pass the presidency off to me.”

“You didn’t take it?” Phil asked curiously.

Tommy shook his head. “I wanted to focus on getting my discs back, and I didn’t want L’Manburg involved in my fight with Dream, so I declined the position. I did become Tubbo’s vice-president, though.” He nodded to ladder that. “That moron over there heard about Tubbo becoming president, threw a hissy fit about it, and you know the rest.”

“The terrorist attack, yes,” Phil confirmed.

“Anarchy!” Technoblade called.

“I was at the trial, mate,” Phil told him. “We both know you kind of fucked that up.” He didn’t sound all that upset about it. He didn’t sound angry at Technoblade at all.

Technoblade huffed and brushed past them, walking towards the ladder he had set up near the door and going to the basement. Tommy watched him go, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy. The piglin hybrid was so goddamn lucky to have a friend that would stay with him, despite his screw-ups.

“Anything else you wanted to talk about?” Tommy asked before his thoughts got away with him. “I’m all for talking shit about Wilbur, but I have more important things that I could be doing right now.” He didn’t, really, but Phil didn’t need to know that.

Phil considered for a moment. “Wilbur definitely led to me in his letters, I knew that.” He looked pained. Tommy didn’t pity him. “I guess I didn’t realize just how much he was willing to lie. I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting him to lie about so much of what happened.”

And damn his empathy. “Don’t feel too bad, “ he said quietly. “It’s not like there was anything you could have done. Wilbur was just… he was a wrong’un, that’s all there is to it.”

“You are still talking about my son,” Phil said, something like a warning in his voice. Parents were amusing, Tommy thought. Always so protective over their kids.

Tommy tilted his head. “I’m talking about my brother,” he replied, a hint of challenge in his voice. The underlying ‘I knew him better than you’ went unsaid. “I’m sorry that Wilbur lied to you,” he said sincerely. “Really, I am, but you have to understand that Wilbur lied to everyone. He wasn’t a good person, Phil. He called himself the bad guy long before he ever pushed that button.”

Phil nodded. “I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that Wilbur lied, but it’s hard to accept.” He gazed out the window, Ghostbur just barely visible in the distance, accompanied by a blue blur. “I appreciate the honesty, though. Any information I get from Ghostbur isn’t exactly reliable.”

“Ghostbur might not be reliable,” Tommy said, “but he’s all the best parts of your son. He’s…” His breath hitched, and he silently cursed himself. “Believe me when I say you’d much rather have Ghostbur than whatever was left of Alivebur.”

“But he’s not Wilbur,” Phil said.

“No, he’s not,” Tommy agreed. “You killed Wilbur.” It came out harsher than he meant it to, but the truth was brutal sometimes. There wasn’t a kind way to remind someone that they murdered their kid. “Just be glad you didn’t know that bastard like I knew him, okay? Ghostbur is a fucking blessing, trust me.”

Tommy was suddenly very done with talking about Wilbur. He wasn’t sure what part of the conversation finally made him cave, but he was too mentally exhausted to keep up the conversation. Even in death, Wilbur found a way to whittle him down.

He stood up out of his chair. “I’ve got to go,” he said, ignoring Phil’s surprise. “Technoblade!” he shouted. “I’m taking a golden apple!”

“Don’t you dare!” Technoblade shouted back from downstairs.

“Fuck you!” Tommy opened a chest and snatched a golden apple before turning to the door. “Goodbye, Philza Minecraft.”

“Wait-”

“Bye-bye!” Tommy interrupted. “Bye, Phil!”

Phil started after him. “Tommy, what-” But he didn’t wait. He cut off Phil’s sentence by slamming the door shut and walking away. He’d talk to Phil again some other time, when Wilbur’s scathing voice wasn’t ringing in his head.

Ghostbur was still outside, humming to himself as he ran a hand over Friend’s blue wool. “Hello, Tommy!” He followed Tommy as he walked, Friend the sheep following obediently. “Are you leaving already?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving, Ghostbur,” Tommy replied, not bothering to stop walking. “Sorry about all the Alivebur talk, by the way. I know you don’t really like hearing about the guy.”

The spirit hummed. “That’s alright. Sometimes people have to talk about bad things.”

Tommy gave Friend a pat on the head, the sheep pushing his head up into the touch. “I wish we didn’t. I wish we could just leave Wilbur in the past, where he fucking belongs.” He sighed. “But, as usual, Wilbur fucked something up, and I had to fix it. I can’t believe he would lie to-” He paused. “You know what? I can believe it, actually.”

“Would you like some blue?” Ghostbur asked. “Blue always makes me feel better.”

“Nah,” Tommy said. “I’m not really all that upset, I’m just… I feel like I spent so much time thinking Wilbur was a great guy, and he then just…” He trailed off. “But now that I’m staying with Sam, I realize how bad he was. And I don’t like thinking about it.”

Ghostbur smiled. “Then don’t think about it!” he suggested happily. “That’s what I do, and it’s worked great for me.”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah, I bet.” He stopped walking. Technoblade’s house was a speck in the distance behind  him. Phil was still probably mulling over what Tommy had told him. “I can’t just forget things like you can, though. And neither can Phil. It doesn’t work like that for us.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur tilted his head. “Then what are you gonna do?”

What was he going to do? There were no more wars to fight. No more exile, no more Dream, and no more Wilbur. There wasn’t anything tying him down. No one forcing him into fights he couldn’t win and calling him selfish when he lost.

“I’m gonna get my discs back,” he said finally. “I’m gonna build a hotel.” He smiled to himself. It felt nice to be the one who got what he wanted. To do something for himself, and no one else. “And I’m gonna move on.”

Notes:

Do I like c! Technoblade? Hell, no. Do I still love Bedrock Bros? Yes., absolutely I do. There will be Bedrock Bros in this fic, do not question me.

Also, writing Phil accurately is physically painful. I want him to question Technoblade so badly, but I know his character wouldn't actually do that. So, in order to stay in character, he is still a fucking dumbass, and he's just chill with whatever Technoblade does, he doesn't really give a shit.

Probably gonna do a Ranboo chapter next, it's been a while since we've heard from the traumatized oreo.

Chapter 42: Friends on All Sides

Notes:

THIS CHAPTER IS SO BORING I'M SO SORRY

“Ranboo, I really don’t have time for this right now,” Tubbo said, for what had to be the hundredth time in the past couple of days. “Tommy will talk to me when he’s ready, and that’s the end of it.”

“Okay, but I really think you should talk about it,” Ranboo insisted, also for the hundredth time. “I don’t even know what you guys said to each other, but you both walked away from the trial upset.”

Tubbo sighed. “Yeah, wonder why that is.” He shuffled some papers on his desk. “Listen, we both got a little heated, but it’s nothing to worry about. If Tommy was really pissed off, trust me, you’d know.” He offered Ranboo a tired smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with Quackity about something.”

Ranboo watched Tubbo leave, fighting the urge to chase after the goat hybrid and shaking him by the shoulders. It wouldn’t do him any good to press, though. Tubbo was a stubborn person when he really wanted to be.

It was a trait that Tubbo and Tommy shared. Not that the two of them had been seeing eye to eye on much of anything since Tommy’s exile. And Ranboo, trying to help both of his friends as best he could, was caught in the very delicate crossfires of their feud.

Ranboo didn’t like to take sides.

When it came to any kind of conflict, Ranboo was, admittedly, a bit weak in the spine. And although Tubbo and Tommy both insisted that they weren’t in a fight, Ranboo couldn’t mistake the hostility in their voices at the trial. The two friends were angry, and there was no getting around it.

Afterwards, Tubbo had told Ranboo that he was fine. And he’d continued to insist that he was fine in the days after the trial, but Ranboo didn’t believe him for a second. Ranboo wanted Tubbo to talk to him, but he also didn’t want to force Tubbo to talk if he wasn’t ready.

Ranboo had tried confronting Tubbo about it many times, but confrontation wasn’t really his strong suit. And maybe that was what had originally drawn him to Tommy. His bright blue eyes held enough determination for the both of them.

Which was why the hurt on Tommy’s face had been so jarring to see. Ranboo wished he would have had the time to talk to Tommy about the argument, since Tubbo was emotionally unavailable to discuss it, but no one had heard from the young soldier since he left with Sam after the trial.

The trial itself had become somewhat of a controversy in the country. Some were relieved to have it done with, some didn’t even know the Butcher Army had been a thing. Either way, Tubbo and Quackity were among the ones that were unhappy with the results.

Ranboo, personally, didn’t care one way or the other. It seemed like the safest option for Technoblade to simply return to his retirement. And Ranboo didn’t really agree with Butcher Army’s method of trying to drag him out of the snow biome, anyway.

Given his stance on not being involved in conflicts, going along to Technoblade’s house with the Butcher Army at all had been violating that personal rule, but…

If he was being honest, he wasn’t sure why he went to Technoblade’s house that day. Part of him knew that he shouldn’t have, especially after letting Phil and Technoblade leave L’Manburg, but he still went, because despite it going against every principle he had, Tubbo looked too tired to do it himself.

 Friends were worth going against a principle or two, Ranboo thought.

But much as he loved Tubbo, Ranboo was Tommy’s friend, too. If Tubbo thought that Technoblade deserved punishment, then he’d agree, and if Tommy thought Technoblade deserved a fair trial, then he’d agree, because neither one of them were wrong.

Maybe that made him a pushover of sorts. Maybe he didn’t care.

With Tubbo unwilling to talk, and Tommy still missing in action, Ranboo resigned himself to his other plans for the day. L’Manburg was quiet without Tommy, and things were peaceful with the manhunt for Technoblade being over. So, he was venturing outside the country a little.

He wanted to visit Tommy, but first he had a little errand to run. Because maybe he’d stolen a compass from Fundy (or Quackity, he wasn’t really sure, he’d just seen it in the chest and decided) and was walking to the snow biome with no real plan.

The day after the trial, Ranboo overheard Quackity and Tubbo planning… something. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, but they’d been talking nearly nonstop in the few days after the trial, and he assumed it had something to do with the fact that neither of them were happy with the trial results.

He’d also heard the word ‘festival’ being thrown around once or twice.

Regardless of what they were planning, festival or otherwise, Ranboo was determined to make amends with Phil, which was why he was returning the compass they had stolen.

It wasn’t going to do much for the damage that L’Manburg had caused and, quite frankly, Ranboo didn’t expect it to. He just hated the way guilt tugged at him every time he passed by Phil’s house, so he figured that the small act of kindness was the least he could do to make up for Quackity and Fundy essentially ransacking the place. Not that Phil even lived in the house anymore, but still.

As Technoblade’s house came into view, he mentally prepared himself for the worst. He doubted either one of them would be keen on seeing him so soon after their confrontation. Still, it was better him than Tubbo or Quackity.

The door opened before he could even knock. “Ayup, bitch boy!” exclaimed a voice that was decidedly not Technoblade.

Ranboo looked down at Tommy in surprise. “Tommy? What are you-” He sighed. “Well, that makes my day easier.” Now he didn’t have to go all the way to Sam’s to check on Tommy.

“What the fuck are you doing in the snow biome?” Tommy grabbed Ranboo’s arm and dragged him into the house. “You and Ghostbur are both morons, you know that? There’s water fucking everywhere.”

“Snow doesn’t bother me that much,” Ranboo replied. “Uh- should you be bringing me into Technoblade’s house?”

Tommy waved him off. “Ah, Blade and I are pals, it’s fine.” He turned to shout down a ladder. “Techno! I’ve brought Ranboo!”

“Don’t bring people into my house, Tommy!” Technoblade shouted back.

Ranboo winced. “Yeah, that- that could have gone smoother.”

“Fuck you!” Tommy replied, before pulling on Ranboo’s arm again. “Okay, move now. He’s gonna be pissed when he gets up here.”

“Why?” Ranboo asked in exasperation. “Why do you do this?”

Tommy shrugged. “Mostly, because it’s fun.” True to Tommy’s word, Technoblade was making his way up the ladder, grumbling to himself as he reached their level. “Ah! There’s the big man himself.”

“Shut up, Tommy,” Technoblade said, though Ranboo didn’t miss the distinct lack of irritation in his voice. Technoblade finished climbing the ladder and eyed Ranboo, looking him up and down critically. “What do you want?”

Ranboo blinked down at Technoblade. “Oh! Uh- hi. I just…” He fumbled a bit trying to pull the compass out of his inventory. “I came to return this to Phil.” He held out the compass, an olive branch of sorts. “I kinda felt bad that we took it, so… you know.”

Technoblade raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.” He studied Ranboo for a moment, then sighed. “Fine, but make it quick.” He turned and called out the ladder for his friend. “Phil! You’ve got a visitor.”

“Thanks.” Ranboo glanced around the main area of the house. “Nice place.” Techno grunted out a reply that Ranboo didn’t quite catch, then walked out the front door.

Tommy grinned. “I’ll go after him.” He gave Ranboo a wave before following Technoblade outside. “Have fun chatting with Phil!”

Ranboo sighed as Tommy chased Technoblade. “Always on the run.” He could always talk to Tommy later. As long as he survived his talk with Phil, anyway. He got the feeling Technoblade wouldn’t need a weapon to kill him if anything about this talk went south.

“Don’t mind Techno,” Phil’s voice rang from the basement. “He’s just grumpy that Eret took all his weapons.” He climbed up the ladder and gave Ranboo a warm smile. “What can I do you for, mate?”

“Hey, Phil.” Ranboo waited until Phil was fully up the ladder before holding out the stolen compass. “I wanted to return this. Sort of as an apology for L’Manburg going through your house.”

Phil took the compass. “You know this thing leads to Techno’s house, right? It doesn’t do me much good now.” The compass disappeared into his inventory. “I appreciate the gesture, though. And we already owe you one for letting us get out of L’Manburg.”

“Oh, that?” Ranboo waved a hand flippantly. “I was never really on board with that whole Butcher Army thing. I don’t think Tubbo was really on board with it either, he just didn’t know what else to do. Quackity was pushing the idea pretty hard. Peer pressure, you know?” 

The avian hybrid hummed. “If you say so.” He didn’t seem all that convinced, and Ranboo didn’t know how to convince him, so he decided to leave the subject alone. “I’ve got a question about that Butcher Army, though. If you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Ranboo replied. “What is it?”

“You said you weren’t on board,” Phil said. “But you don’t really seem like the type that would agree with Techno, either.” He gave Ranboo a curious look, like he was studying something particularly interesting. “So, who’s side are you on?”

Ranboo frowned. “Why do I have to pick a side?” he asked. “I don’t think Techno should have released those withers, but that doesn’t mean I think he deserves an execution.” His gaze flitted around the room, avoiding Phil’s studying look. “I don’t care about L’Manburg or the Greater Dream SMP. Land means nothing to me, I just care about the people that live in it.”

Phil smiled. “That’s a good way of looking at things, I suppose.”  He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’m assuming L’Manburg doesn’t know about you helping us?”

“I wouldn’t say I helped you, really.” Ranboo shrugged. “I just didn’t stop you. And, no, I definitely haven’t told anyone.” To be honest he barely remembered it. He was sure he had written it down, at some point, but his book was still missing.

Which… wasn’t fantastic news, but there were more important things. L’Manburg had enough to deal with, they didn’t need to deal with Ranboo’s memory loss on top of it. He’d find it eventually, he was sure.

“Any other plans for today?” Phil asked conversationally. “I don’t mind if you want to hang around and visit Tommy.”

Ranboo nodded. “That was actually my only other plan for the day.” He moved to look out the window, spotting Techno and Tommy standing by the horse pen. “How long have those two been hanging out? I was kind of under the impression that they didn’t like each other.”

Phil laughed. “Yeah, you’d think so, huh?” He shrugged. “I honestly couldn’t tell you what’s going on between those two. They hate each other one second and they’re perfectly fine the next.”

Tommy was shouting something that Ranboo couldn’t hear, but he could see the look of amusement on Techno’s face. “Seems to be a trend with Tommy.” It was hard to tell who cared about Tommy and who didn’t.  It seemed like there were people that should have cared and didn’t.

“It’s nice to see Techno make another friend, though,” Phil admitted. “It’s just been him and me for a long time.” HIs smile turned sad. “Ghostbur’s told me a lot about Tommy. It’s nice to see him make a friend, too.”

Curious, Ranboo tilted his head. “What has Ghostbur told you?” Too many people dragged Tommy’s name through the dirt for Ranboo’s liking. It was always nice to hear a good thing about Tommy, and Ghostbur was simply full of exclusively good things to say.

“Not much,” Phil replied. “His memory is a little spotty.” He waved a hand flippantly. “But he’s told me how loyal Tommy is. How much he gave up for L’Manburg.” If Ranboo hadn’t been paying attention, he might have missed the way Phil’s gaze darkened slightly. “That country seems to be more trouble than it’s worth these days.”

And Ranboo… didn’t disagree. But there were people that he cared about in that country. “They’re trying,” he said. “Everyone’s been under a lot of stress, with Dream and everything.” He hesitated. “He hasn’t… Tommy hadn’t talked to you guys about exile, has he?”

Phil laughed. “Well, he doesn’t talk to me about much of anything.” Pain flickered behind his eyes. “But I guess I can’t blame him for that.” He nodded to the window. “He might have talked to Techno about exile, but I doubt it. Those two don’t do much but fight.” He studied Ranboo for a moment. “Why? What do you know about exile?”

Ranboo didn’t know much, but what he did know wasn’t good. “I know it wasn’t… great.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, I don’t know that much, either. I was kind of hoping that he would have told you guys something.” He’d probably have to talk to Sam if he wanted to know more. The creeper hybrid seemed to be the only person that Tommy would open up to.

“Came to the wrong place, I’m afraid,” Phil said apologetically. “I know Techno visited Logstedshire, if that helps. Said the place was blown up.”

“With the cobblestone tower,” Ranboo finished. “Yeah, I know about that.” A shudder went through him thinking about the tower. “It’s hard to imagine someone like Tommy… doing that.”

Phil blinked at him. “Doing what?”

Ranboo frowned. “The tower- wait, do you not know?” He didn’t want to tell Phil if Tommy hadn’t already. That kind of stuff was too personal to share.

“The tower?” Phil asked. “What could Tommy possibly do with a-” His eyes widened, realizing dawning. “Oh.”

“We’re not sure that’s the reason he built it,” Ranboo said quickly. “It’s just- well, he hasn’t denied, either, so…” He sighed. “Maybe don’t ask him about it, yeah? It’s kind of a sensitive topic.”

Phil nodded. “Of course.” He glanced out the window. “Exile must have been a lot worse than L’Manburg made it out to be.”

“That’s Dream’s fault, though,” Ranboo pointed out. “Nobody in L’Manburg knew it was that bad. If we’d known, we would have stopped it.” He followed Phil’s gaze to see Tommy and Techno locked in an argument. “I’m just glad he’s been staying with Sm. I think it’s been good for him.”

“I agree,” Phil said. “He seems less angry.” His gaze softened. “He looks a little bit more like Wilbur’s Tommy.”

It occurred to Ranboo that, other than Fundy, Tommy was the only surviving relative of Wilbur’s. Suddenly, Phil’s interest in Tommy’s well-being made a lot more sense.

If only there were more people who cared that much.

Ranboo didn’t know how to respond to Phil’s statement, so he didn’t. He didn’t know what Phil meant by Wilbur’s Tommy, but he suspected that the man was just grieving, so he left it alone, not wanting to intrude on whatever thoughts were going through Phil’s head.

Even in the silence, though, it felt like Phil had said so much. His grief for Wilbur was nearly tangible,and Ranboo was sure that his worry for Tommy was just the same.

Tommy suddenly burst into the house. “Ranboo! You wanna steal some shit again?”

“Bruh!” Technoblade shouted from outside. He pushed past Tommy to enter the house “Phil, stop him.”

Phil lifted his hands in surrender. “Sorry, mate, hands are tied.”

Tommy cheered and rushed forward to grab Ranboo by the arm excitedly. “Come on, bitch! Let’s be dirty crime boys!”

Ranboo smiled. They probably weren’t going to steal anything, this was probably just a bit to rile up Technoblade, but Ranboo didn’t care. It was nice to see a smile on his friend’s face again. “Okay, Tommy,” he agreed. “Dirty crime boys, it is.”

Notes:

I'm so sorry this chapter was so boring. Things are winding down a little bit after the trial. I promise there will be more plot stuff soon, we just gotta work our way up to it.

Anyway, it bothered me that Ranboo went with Phil after Doomsday even though they, like, never fucking talked to each other, so I made them talk. Also, throwing in a little Tubbo angst. Just for kicks. Boy is gonna overwork himself to death, and so is Quackity (i'll let y'all guess what they're planning :D)

The next chapter will be more interesting, I promise. I don't know whose POV I'm gonna do, but I'll make sure it's more interesting than this one. Maybe we'll check on Quackity and Tubbo, maybe we'll go back to Sam and Tommy. We'll see how it goes.

Chapter 43: Calculated Risks

Notes:

I know last chapter I said that this update wouldn't be as boring, but I feel like it's still just a teeny bit boring. That's my bad, I'm sorry.

Quackity sometimes wished that things were a little less complicated. Or maybe he wished that people were less complicated. Either way, things in L’Manburg had gotten a little complicated, and after the trial, things had gotten more complicated.

And he supposed he could have left well enough alone. He could have let his threat to kill Technoblade be empty. He could’ve… if Tubbo hadn’t presented him with an idea.

Admittedly, Tubbo had looked a little wild in the eyes ever since Technoblade’s trial. Quackity suspected it had something to do with Tommy, but he didn’t press. That was Ranboo’s job. All he knew was that Tubbo was angry and motivated and had a plan.

Quackity was never overly fond of impulse decisions. He preferred things planned out, easy to execute, and dangerously effective.

“I want to kill Technoblade,” Tubbo had seethed quietly, stone-faced and unable to meet Quackity’s gaze. “I want him dead, Quackity.”

“You’re not the only one,” Quackity had told him. “But it’s not that easy.”

“We could make it that easy.” Tubbo glared at empty space while he spoke. “He doesn’t have any weapons, we could-”

“But Phil does.” But even as Quackity had protested, the gears were turning in his brain. “Unless…”

Some part of him knew he shouldn’t have considered it. He should have seen Tubbo’s anger and known that it couldn’t have led anywhere good. A child’s anger was nothing to be trifled with, if Tommy was any indication.

But Tubbo’s anger was just misguided. Quackity could guide it a little bit.

“Unless what?” Tubbo had asked.

“How do you feel about another festival, Tubbo?”

“So, this festival,” Fundy said slowly. “What’s the point again?”

“The point,” Tubbo explained, “is that this country needs a fucking break. A festival would be good to raise morale.” He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together with an easy smile. “And we also, maybe, have a plan to kill Technoblade.”

Ranboo blanched. “What?”

“And Dream,” Quackity added. “It’d be the perfect opportunity to get them both. There’s no weapons or armor allowed in L’Manburg territory.” The original plan had been just Technoblade, but they quickly realized that this was their shot at Dream, too. With Technoblade and Dream weaponless, it’d be easy to knock both names off of the hit list.

Fundy scowled. “And how do you know Technoblade or Dream will show? They could just as easily not turn up.” He gestured around the table. “We all just put Technoblade on trial! And he hates this country. Why would he come to your festival?”

“Same reason he would go to Schlatt’s,” Tubbo said. “Because he follows power, wherever it goes. Especially if he thinks it’ll benefit him somehow.”

“Yeah,” Fundy retorted, “Techno follows power so he can destroy it! Or are you forgetting what happened last time we pissed this guy off?”

Tubbo turned to hold Fundy’s gaze with a steady, half-blind stare. “As a matter of fact,” he replied coolly, “I do remember what happened last time we pissed off Technoblade.” Fundy glanced away. “And the way I see it, Techno is a threat no matter what we do, so we might as well show him that we mean business.”

Ranboo cleared his throat. “Okay, but- I mean, Eret already took all his weapons, right? He’s not much of a threat anymore.”

Quackity scoffed. “And what exactly is stopping him from making more weapons? Nobody goes out there to check on him, and we all know Phil isn’t going to stop him if he decides that he wants a new Axe of Peace.” For all they knew, Phil might encourage it, or even help.

It wasn’t a risk Quackity was willing to take.

“You don’t even know that he’s making more weapons,” Fundy reasoned. “You’ve got no proof that he’s planning an attack of any kind. But if we do this? Kill him after we’ve given him a fair trial? He’s gonna lose his shit, man! And then what are we going to do?”

“This is Technoblade we’re talking about,” Quackity said. “Didn’t he have a whole vault of weapons and armor? No one was attacking him then, either! And look what he did!” He nodded to Tubbo. “I’m with our president on this one. History has proved that Technoblade will always be prepared for a fight, whether it’s justified or not.”

Fundy spluttered. “So, what? You- you’re going to attack him first because he might be planning something?” 

“We can’t afford to take that risk,” Tubbo stated simply. “The best thing we can do is show him that we can stand our ground just as well as he can.”

“What about Dream?” Ranboo asked. “Even if you’re sure that Technoblade will come to the festival, how are you so sure that Dream will?”

Quackity shrugged. “The same way we know Dream will show up to any event on this server. Dream will show up if Tommy shows up.”

Fundy raised an eyebrow. “Right. And how are you sure Tommy will show up?”

Tubbo hesitated. “Well, because… it’s Tommy.”

It went unsaid that Tommy would show up simply because Tubbo asked him to. Something had happened between them at the trial, Quackity wasn’t sure exactly what, but it wouldn’t matter. It never did. That was just how Tommy and Tubbo worked. Best friends, even when they were at each other’s throats.

“What about the death messages?” Ranboo asked. “If you kill one of them, the whole server is gonna see it.”

“The plan is to corner them somewhere,” Tubbo said. “If we can get both of them at once, then we won’t have to worry about it.”

Fundy buried his face in his hands. “What the fuck, you guys…”

Quackity frowned. “Look. you don’t have to be a part of this if you don’t want to. You’re more than welcome to sit this one out.”

“No one is sitting this one out!” Fundy protested. “If you do this, Dream and Techno are both gonna come after us. The whole country is gonna be in danger because you guys wanted your revenge.”

Tubbo rubbed his eyes tiredly. “If anything, they’ll only be after the people who attacked them, which will probably just be Quackity and me.” He gestured to himself and Quackity. “And the two of us can handle ourselves just fine.”

Ranboo tilted his head. “Wait, we’re holding a festival just so you two can kill Dream and Techno? What about everyone that’s going to be attending?”

“Yeah,” Fundy agreed. “What about ‘raising morale’? You think this won’t fuck everything up?”

“The festival will still be good for the country,” Quackity said. “Nobody will even know what happened until we’re done, and by then it won’t even matter. Everyone will still have a good time.”

Fundy groaned. “This was exactly what Tommy was talking about.” He let his head thump against the table. “If you two idiots actually go through with this, you better make damn sure that the rest of the country isn’t involved.”

Tubbo nodded. “Of course. No one else needs to be involved except for Quackity and I, if that’s what you guys want.” He gave a diplomatic smile. “We’d still like your help getting ready for the festival, if you wouldn’t mind. Quackity and I were planning on having some games set up.”

“Sure, whatever,” Fundy muttered. “I’ll help with the stupid festival.” He pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “I’m gonna go… do something that isn’t this.”

Ranboo fidgeted while Fundy exited the meeting room, his gaze flicking between Quackity and Tubbo and the table. “So…” he started, pausing as the door clicked shut behind Fundy, “you guys are really going through with this, then?”

Quackity shrugged. “Why not? No one’s gonna take the fall except Tubbo and I.” Dream and Techno both had all three of their canon lives, which made things complicated for obvious reasons. Tommy hadn’t been wrong about that.

But Quackity was sure that he and Tubbo could handle the repercussions of their own actions. Tommy wouldn’t like it, but he didn’t have to. This wasn’t Tommy’s fight anymore. It was strictly between the government and the enemy, exactly as it should have been from the very beginning.

Tommy had good intentions. Really, he did. But Quackity couldn’t risk him stepping in again. Both for the good of the country and for his own safety, Tommy needed to not be involved with L’Manburg business.

This show of power was necessary. Eret had been far too lenient with Techno, and L’Manburg needed to prove that their authority couldn’t be pushed aside so easily. Which ultimately made the trial a waste of everyone’s time, but most things on the server ended up being a waste of time.

Too many wars had been fought for things that ended up not mattering.

Quackity didn’t want his own actions to be that meaningless. He said he’d kill Technoblade, so that was exactly what he was going to do, trial be damned.

“Well,” Ranboo said, “I can help decorate, I guess.”

“Perfect!” Tubbo exclaimed. “I really appreciate the help.”

Ranboo nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He stood up out of his chair. “I better start gathering materials, then. I’ll talk to you guys later, yeah?”

The room was quiet after Ranboo left, which Quackity didn’t mind so much. It was always a comfortable sort of silence whenever he was sitting with Tubbo. “Well, that went better than I thought it would.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo agreed. “I was really expecting more of a fight from Fundy.” He paused for a moment. “We’re doing the right thing here, aren’t we?”

“I think so.” Quackity said. “Not everyone’s gonna agree with us, but I think it’s the right thing.” He waved a hand flippantly. “Besides, we already said that no one else would have to be involved. If anything goes down, it’ll just be between Dream, Technoblade, and us.”

Tubbo hummed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “And you don’t think… I mean, do you think Tommy is gonna be pissed off about this?”

Quackity laughed. “Probably. When is Tommy not angry about something?” In Tommy’s defense, though, there were a lot of reasons for him to be angry. “But he’ll come around. He usually does.”

Silence overtook the room again, Tubbo staring at the table with furrowed brows. Quackity waited patiently while Tubbo thought, and the president finally asked, “Speaking of Tommy, uh…” he glanced up, “why didn’t you tell me Tommy was at Sam’s?”

He couldn’t say he was surprised by the question. He figured it was only a matter of time before Tubbo asked. “It wasn’t anything personal,” he assured Tubbo. “Tommy just asked me not to. So I didn’t.”

Tommy would have done the same for Quackity if Schlatt had ever come looking for him in Pogtopia. Tommy had barely thought twice about trusting Quackity, despite their rocky past, and he felt that he owed the teenager for that.

“What if he had gotten hurt or something?” Tubbo asked. “It freaked me the fuck out when he disappeared.” He laced his fingers together tightly. “It kinda pissed me off when I found out that you knew. You knew even before Ranboo knew.”

Quackity sighed. “I know. I get it.” If Karl and Sapnap had disappeared like that, and someone had known about it, Quackity couldn’t imagine he’d be too happy. “But he trusted me, and I didn’t want to ruin that. He was kinda… he’d kill me for saying so, but he was pretty fragile after exile. He still is.”

Tubbo snorted. “Yeah, there’s two words that don’t belong in the same sentence. Tommy and fragile.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I hope he feels safer once we put Dream in his place. I almost wish we could let Tommy get the kill.”

“If anyone deserves to take a canon life from Dream, it’d definitely be Tommy,” Quackity agreed. “But we both know that he wouldn’t approve of what we’re doing here. Not the Technoblade part, anyway.” He grinned. “Speaking of Technoblade, you’re definitely taking the killing blow.”

“I fucking better.” Tubbo’s hand hovered over the scarred half of his face. “The bastard deserves it.”

And that was really the only reason they needed. Technoblade and Dream needed to die because they deserved it. Tubbo and Tommy had both lost their lives to these monsters, and they deserved their revenge.

It would be like closure. If there was anything that Tubbo needed, it was little catharsis. They could deal with the consequences as they came, but no one else was going to be hurt by Dream or Techno if he could help it.

It wasn’t like he was putting a target on his back, Techno and Dream both already had their grievances with him. Dream had once told him that he was the biggest threat to the server. Which was perfectly fine by him, really, he’d rather be known as a threat than a pushover.

The only other person that Quackity knew of that Dream considered any kind of threat was Tommy. Dream didn’t take threats lightly, and he’d gotten away with so much just because Tommy couldn’t defend himself. Quackity couldn’t let that happen again.

Dream and Techno were going to pay for what they’d done to the server. No more trials, no more empty threats that didn’t mean anything. No letting crimes slip through the cracks. Quackity had a country to protect, a legacy to uphold. He wasn’t going to let some entitled bastards think they could get away with wreaking havoc in their lives.

And if he had to kill Dream and Techno to get that message across? So be it.

Notes:

So! Quackity has issues with not being taken seriously (partly because of Schlatt trauma), and Tubbo his working through his anger in a very unhealthy way (also partly because of Schlatt trauma). Quackity and Tubbo are enabling each other, and it's very Not Good.

Mm, love writing traumatized characters. Good soup.

Anyhoo, you guys are getting Bedrock Bros next chapter, because I am in fucking shambles about the new lore and also because plot reasons.

Chapter 44: Welcome Home, Theseus

Notes:

Bedrock Bros, pog. Love writing these two idiots.

Fundy, last chapter: You don't even know that Techno is gathering resources!
Techno, this chapter: ... :D

If you asked Technoblade why he allowed Tommy to hang around his house, he would simply not answer you. He had absolutely no need to explain himself, the gremlin just… wouldn’t leave. Which would have been endearing if Tommy were a dog. Or a cat. Or something that didn’t talk his ear off.

Of course, he could have stopped Tommy from coming over, if he really wanted to, but the kid seemed to be growing on Phil. It was a pretty slow process, considering Tommy’s hesitance to talk to Phil, but it wasn’t long before Tommy was talking Phil’s ear off just as much as he talked off Techno’s. Phil, bless his old soul, seemed to have infinite patience when it came to the kid.

Or maybe the kid just reminded him of Wilbur.

Either way, Technoblade really didn’t care. Tommy would show up, yell, talk to Phil, yell some more, and pester Techno for an hour or so before going home. Annoying as it was, it was a rather reliable routine. Technoblade liked routine.

TechnoSoft?, SoftNoBlade?

If at all possible, Chat was even more annoying about the situation than Tommy was. They had been doing the stupidest things, like spamming Bedrock Bros, ever since Tommy had started visiting. He wasn’t really sure what it meant. Something to do with Drista and semi-canon events, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Some of the voices insisted that Techno bond with Tommy, which was completely ridiculous. He was already being plenty generous just letting Tommy be in his house. Others voices wanted Tommy’s blood spilled, but there were always those parts of Chat that were a little more on the violent side.

For the most part, though, they seemed content to have the teenager around. And as long as Chat wasn’t splitting his head, Technoblade was willing to leave the situation be. Not like the kid was really hurting anything just by hanging around and talking to Phil.

Besides, he had more important things to do than worry about Tommy. Like tending to his turtle farm. It was a nice, peaceful thing to do that didn’t involve any annoying children, whatsoever.

“Blade!”

At least, it usually didn’t involve any annoying children.

Technoblade sighed. “What do you want, Tommy?” Instead of answering, Tommy came to stand by him, watching intently while Techno tended to his turtles. “What, Tommy?”

Tommy flinched, blinking up at Technoblade. “What- nothing, man! I just came to say ‘hi’.” He crouched and poked at a turtle. “That illegal now? Can’t even say ‘hi’ to my friend?”

“Friend?” Techno questioned. “Since when are you and I friends?”

“Since I stopped L’Manburg from killing you,” Tommy informed him. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

Techno snorted. “Sure, whatever. Thank you, Tommy.”

Tommy’s head snapped in his direction, surprise clouding his eyes. “Huh?” Then he shook his head. “I mean- yeah, of course. Dipshit. You’re welcome.” Tommy turned his attention back to the turtles, but Techno kept his gaze trained on the teenager.

When was the last time anyone had thanked Tommy for anything?

“What are you looking at?” Tommy asked without looking up. “I can feel you staring holes into the side of my head.”

Technoblade huffed and went back to feeding his turtles. “Why aren’t you hanging out with Phil? He seems to enjoy your company.”

“And you don’t?”

“Not particularly.”

Liar, TechnoLie, admit you tolerate the kid, Bedrock Bros pog?

Tommy scoffed. “Whatever. You know you like me.” He stood and brushed the snow off his pants. “Also, Phil is taking an old man nap, so I came to find you, instead.”

Techno raised an eyebrow. “He’s not actually taking a nap, is he.”

“Nah,” Tommy admitted. “Just mixing potions and shit. But that’s boring, so. Here I am.” He blew his bangs out of his eyes. “You’re more fun to talk to, anyway.”

“I assume you mean that I’m more fun to annoy?”

“Same difference, really.” Tommy grinned. “Most people find me annoying at first, but I tend to grow on people.”

Techno hummed. “Well, I’ve known you for a while. When does the not finding you annoying phase start?”

Tommy smacked him on the arm. “Hey, fuck you! I’ll have you know that I am the biggest man on the server. I can and will kick your ass.”

“Sure.” Techno lightly smacked Tommy on the back of the head. “Keep telling yourself that, Tommy.” He promptly tuned out Tommy’s indignant squawking. The incessant talking didn’t stop, even as Techno walked away, Tommy trailing behind him. Techno was sure Tommy was hurling insults his way, but he tried to ignore it as much as he could.

With his turtles fed, Techno was free to do pretty much whatever he wanted for the rest of the day. Not that there was much to do in the snow biome. Maybe he could read a book.

All at once, Techno realized that it was silent.

He stopped walking, turning around to find Tommy staring off into the distance. “Tommy. You good?” Which was a stupid thing to ask and he immediately kicked himself for asking. Why did he care how Tommy was doing? Tommy was finally being quiet.

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “Why Theseus?”

Technoblade blinked. “What?”

“Why…” Tommy grimaced and shook his head. “Never mind. My head is being stupid again.”

“No, you asked me something.” Why was he pressing? He didn’t care. “You said something about Theseus.” Tommy’s scowl deepened at the name. “If it’s any consolation, you don’t really strike me as the Theseus type anymore.”

Tommy turned to him. “How did I ever remind you of Theseus in the first place?” he asked. Techno opened his mouth to answer, but Tommy held up a hand. “Nope. No, you- I get the Theseus thing, okay? The exile, and the… all of it. I just-” He ran a hand through his hair. “Why me?”

Techno tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You could’ve monologued at anyone that day,” Tommy said. “It wasn’t like I personally offended you or anything. If you were going to be pissed off at anyone, you should have been pissed off at Wilbur. He was the one that remade the government, not me.”

welp, i mean he’s not wrong, uh-oh, are we mad at wilbur?, subscribe to Technoblade, where’s Ghostbur?

It was harder to tune out Chat when it got like this, all of them screaming something different at him, so he closed his eyes and forced his thoughts in order. Truthfully, he wasn’t really sure why he’d singled out Tommy on the sixteenth. He was just… Tommy was there and it was convenient. It had seemed right at the time. Poetic and fitting.

“To be fair.” Techno said slowly, “I feel like a lot of people are mad at you because of some dumb thing Wilbur said or did.” Tommy barked out a laugh. “And maybe I should have saved the monologuing for Wilbur.” He shrugged. “But Wilbur wasn’t there and you were. So…”

Tommy grunted in acknowledgement. “All that anger had to go somewhere. I get it.” He tugged his cloak around himself. “Don’t fucking like it, but I get it.”

Technoblade hesitated for a moment. “How come you’re bringing this up now?”

“I wasn’t going to,” Tommy reminded him. “I said never mind, but you told me to elaborate. Idiot.”

The insult, in Techno’s opinion, was entirely uncalled for. “Fair enough,” he conceded anyway. “But I only pressed because you asked. So, why’d you ask?”

Tommy huffed. “I don’t know, man, it’s… it was just in my head, and I was tired of it being in there. So, I asked.” He kicked at the snow half-heartedly. “Sam and Puffy said I should stop letting things just sit in my brain. You’re kind of my test subject for this shit.”

“I’m honored,” Techno said sarcastically.

But he was… kind of honored that Tommy was trusting him, of all people, with something as fragile as his mental health. Tommy was probably lucky that he’d chosen Techno to air his grievances with first, because there was no guarantee that anyone else would take it that lightly.

It was only fair, he supposed, that he returned that trust a little.

“Hey, Tommy,” he said suddenly. “You wanna see something cool?”

Tommy gave him a suspicious look. “Depends,” he said cautiously. “What are we gonna go see?”

Techno cracked half a smile. “If I told you it was a surprise, would you still follow me?”

“Probably,” Tommy admitted. “But if you try shit, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Fine,” Techno replied, ignoring the obvious fact that Tommy absolutely would not beat him in a fight. “But I’m not gonna try anything.” He didn’t have a reason to. “I don’t have any weapons, anyway.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Like not having a weapon could stop you from killing me.” He started after Techno, anyway. “Or maybe you’re conveniently forgetting about the Pit.”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, are you,” Techno sighed.

“Nope!” Tommy replied. “Now hurry up and show me whatever bullshit thing you were gonna show me.” He crossed his arms and huffed. “It’s fucking freezing out here.”

Technoblade started walking. “You could always go home to Sam,” he pointed out. “Nobody makes you come out here to the snow biome, Tommy.”

“Call it a moral obligation,” Tommy said. “Ghostbur is out here, and he’s… you know. He’s Ghostbur. He stares at me like a kicked puppy whenever I don’t visit for a few days.” He smiled to himself. “I don’t actually mind it, though. It’s… it really is good to see him.”

Which Technoblade didn’t understand, if he was honest. If he lost Phil, and all that remained was a hollow, overly cheerful husk, Techno couldn’t imagine he’d like having it around. Then again, Phil was pretty much the perfect friend, and Wilbur was a… less than perfect brother.

Maybe Ghostbur was just a better alternative to whatever Wilbur had become.

Maybe Technoblade didn’t want to think about that too hard.

“How far are we gonna walk?” Tommy asked. “This better not be a plot to kill me.”

“We haven’t even been walking for two minutes,” Techno scoffed. “You can’t go two minutes without complaining about something?”

Tommy looked affronted. “What- fuck you! I totally could!”

Techno raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.” He was met with a glare, but no scathing remarks. That was a win in his book. It wasn’t often that someone could actually manage to get Tommy to stop talking.

The rest of their walk was a relatively peaceful one, interrupted only by Tommy making frustrated noises and kicking idly at piles of snow. It was actually almost a pleasant stroll through the snow biome.

TECHNOSOFT

Aside from that. The walk was pleasant aside from Chat cooing over Tommy.

Finally, Technoblade could see the mountain where he’d hid his… well, he wasn’t sure what to call it, really. A stash? A safeguard?

Didn’t matter, he supposed. Point was: he’d spent a long time working on it, and it was definitely something that Eret should have been notified about.

But what Eret didn’t know wouldn’t kill her. Besides, it’d taken him way too long to gather, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to let some monarch destroy it.

“Tommy,” Techno said, catching the teenager’s attention. “What I’m about to show you? I haven’t shown this to anyone, okay? Not even Phil.”

Tommy looked taken aback. “Why the fuck are you showing me, then?”

Techno shrugged. “Don’t know. Just felt like it.” He brushed aside some snow clinging to the side of the mountain to reveal a button. “See this wall?” Tommy squinted at the mountain, his gaze tracing the barely visible door.

The teenager shot him a questioning gaze. Techno nodded to the button and took a step back, hoping that was indication enough for Tommy to know what he wanted.

It worked, because Tommy took a hesitant step forward and pressed the button. He drew his hand back as soon as the door began to creak open, as if the button had burned him, somehow, and he stared with wide eyes as sunlight filtered into the cave behind the hidden wall.

Techno couldn’t help the smile that found its way to his face at the sight of it. He was quite proud of himself, and rightfully so. It wasn’t easy gathering fifty or so wither heads.

Tommy, on the other hand, seemed slightly less than impressed.

And being slightly less than impressed, of course, meant that Tommy immediately started screaming.

“What the shit?” Tommy demanded, stumbling in his haste to get away from the looming walls of wither skulls. “Techno, what the fuck?”

Techno laughed at Tommy’s reaction. He couldn’t help it. 

“Why the fuck are you laughing?” Tommy exclaimed incredulously. “You- you shouldn’t have these! This isn’t…” Trembling fingers threaded through blond curls and tugged anxiously. “Fucking hell, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Technically,” Technoblade mused, “Eret said I couldn’t have any weapons. He never said anything about wither skulls.”

Tommy laughed, something high-pitched and stressed. “It’s the same fucking thing! It’s-” He let out a shaky exhale. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “It’s fine! Just…” He studied the cave for a moment. “You don’t… you don’t plan on using these, right?”

Techno shrugged. “Not unless someone gives me a good reason to.” He tilted his head. “Why? Are you gonna snitch, Tommy?”

“I’m no snitch,” Tommy snapped. “I’m- look, I spent a lot of time making sure that you and L’Manburg were at peace, and I don’t want this,” he gestured wildly at the cave, “to fuck it all up.”

“I’m not going to use it unless someone gives me a reason to,” Techno assured him. “I just figured you should know about it. You were the one who got me out of an execution.

Tommy’s gaze flicked between Techno and the withers, his stormy gaze looking conflicted and torn. “You’re… you really won’t use this?” he asked slowly. “You won’t use these unless you have to. Right?”

“I take my retirement very seriously,” Techno replied. He promptly tuned out the voices that started whispering about all the blood that Techno could have been spilling. He was retired. And he’d like to stay that way. “I am a man of absolute reciprocity. As long as L’Manburg minds their business, we have no problems.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Tommy exhaled shakily. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay, fine. This is fine.” He rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “Can’t believe I’m doing this. I should tell Eret, I-”He shook his head. “No, whatever. It’s fine.”

Technoblade nodded. “Fine.” He pressed the button to close the door, hiding the wither skulls from sight. “I’ll probably tell Phil about them soon. Maybe bring him out here and show him.”

“He probably couldn’t make the walk out here,” Tommy mused. “His old man bones, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Technoblade agreed. “I’ll probably just settle for telling him, then.”

OLD MAN BONES?, ¾ SBI pog, Phil is on his ‘adopting Tommy’ arc, BEDROCK BROS RIDES AGAIN

Techno shook his head slightly as they walked back to the house. Of course Chat would be annoying about the brief, sort of bonding moment with Tommy. He just couldn’t have a moment’s peace.

Then again, he guessed there were worse things that Chat could be screaming about. And maybe Tommy wasn’t really that bad of company.

“Techno,” Tommy asked casually, “what’s the worst word you know?”

“Tommy, I literally hate you.”

Notes:

No actual "Welcome home, Theseus!", but Tommy still knows about the wither skulls now, which is... maybe bad, but y'all will just have to see.

Also, I feel like I need to explain some things from last chapter (warning, kind of long, but really important):

I've seen some people upset that Tubbo and Quackity are 'baiting' Dream with Tommy. It isn't something that they're doing consciously, it's simply a fact that Tommy will show up if Tubbo asks and it's also a fact that Dream will show if Tommy does. It's not malicious, it's not even intentionally baiting, it's just... facts.

I've seen some people upset with Tubbo, and rightfully so. In a perfect world, Tubbo would want to leave well enough alone and move on, but I'm trying to write these characters as accurately as possible. Tubbo is an angry seventeen year old scrambling for whatever little bit of control he has left in his life. He's scared that his authority is being overlooked, and he doesn't know what else to do except follow through with their original plan, which was killing Technoblade. Teenagers are reckless and impulsive, especially when they're upset. His best friend stopped him from doing something. So, of course, his knee-jerk reaction is going to be, "Fuck you, I'll do it, anyway." Which isn't healthy, but it's a realistic response from an angry teenager in a position of political power.

I've also seen people upset with Quackity, also rightfully so. Wilbur has once stated that Quackity's character is neutral good. He genuinely wants what's best for the server, but he's going to follow his own rules to do it. Quackity thinks he's really doing the right thing here. An anarchist learns his lesson, a teenager gets the justice he deserves, and if they can take care of Dream along the way? Win-win situation. At least, that's how Quackity sees it. That doesn't mean what he and Tubbo are doing is right in any way, but I hope that kind of clears up the motivations behind why they decided to do it.

Last note, my friend asked me why I had the trial if trying to kill Technoblade was always going to be the outcome. If Quackity and Tubbo are going to try and kill Techno anyway, then the trial seems like an entirely useless plot point. Which isn't an incorrect statement, but there's a reason I did it that way.
Ranboo once said that a lot of things that Tommy creates gets destroyed. Most of what Tommy has worked towards has been destroyed or taken from him, making nearly everything Tommy has accomplished on the server completely useless. It's the running theme. Yeah, the trial is going to end up being almost entirely pointless, but that's kind of the point? If that makes sense.

Anyhow, I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter! I'ma go to work now.

Chapter 45: The Green Festival

Notes:

I look pretty good for a dead bitch, lmao. Sorry I took so long on this chapter, guys. The end of the year kicked my ass.

Also, I'm not really sure how many people actually read the top notes of the chapters, but to those of you that do... I'm sorry in advance, but at least there's AwesamPonk.

Admittedly, Sam was more than a little surprised to hear about the festival. Tubbo had announced it just a few days after the trial, and everyone was invited. Even Techno and Phil, which Sam could only guess was a peace offering of sorts.

It wasn’t a bad idea, he supposed, but it did seem a little out of the blue. “You sure you want to go to this festival thing, Tommy?” Sam asked. It had to be about the fifth time he’d asked in the last hour, but he wanted to be sure.

“Of course, I’m sure,” Tommy replied. “I’m absolutely certain of everything I do, Big S.” Even as he said the words, he didn’t sound all that sure. He didn’t really look all that sure, either. His hands twitched at his sides, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Sam decided against pointing out Tommy’s nervousness. It’d only make the teenager double down. “Okay,” he said agreeably. “But if you want to leave, you can just let me know.”

Tommy scoffed. “I won’t want to leave, Sam.” He gave Sam his brightest grin, a little too forceful around the edges to feel genuine, but bright all the same. “Heard they’re gonna have games and shit. Can’t miss out on the opportunity to kick everyone’s ass, can I?”

Despite the false bravado, Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “If you say so, Tommy.” He gave Tommy a light, playful nudge. “I’m just saying. The offer’s there.”

The facade fell a bit, Tommy’s smile softening into something less prideful. “Thanks, Sam.” They were close enough to L’Manburg that they could see the outlines of some of the taller buildings, but they had yet to run into anyone. Probably because they were arriving just a tiny bit late.

“I can walk through the fucking Nether, Sam.”

“I believe you.”

“I can! I’m not a pussy, and it’d be faster, anyway.”

“Alright.”

Tommy had gotten all the way to the portal before faltering. “Sam, wait.” And Sam, of course, had obliged. Tommy had stared at the portal for a few seconds, glaring at the obsidian rectangle like it had offended him personally. “I can’t.”

So, they hadn’t, and they didn’t speak a word about it.

A few weeks before, Tommy might have cursed and insisted that he was okay enough to handle the Neither, so Sam considered it a huge step forward that Tommy would willingly step down from something, admitting that it made him uncomfortable before it was too much to handle.

Besides, Sam didn’t mind taking the long way around. Honestly, he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to get to L’Manburg. If Tommy decided that he’d rather bail and go back to the base, Sam would be just as happy to do so.

But Tommy was still Tommy. Stubborn to a fault, even if he was getting better about it, and Sam knew that Tommy wouldn’t back out of the festival. Not even with the risk of Dream being there. Just like the trial.

Why? Well… because he was Tommy. Sam really couldn’t describe it any other way.

Tommy just wouldn’t say no to his friends. A well-known fact on the server. Not to Wilbur, not to Tubbo, even the few occasions Tommy had told Sam ‘no’ was done with great reluctance and an unhealthy dose of fear. Like Tommy still couldn’t fathom being anything except a soldier following orders.

Stubborn as he was, Tommy was still just a very impressionable kid. If Sam had his way, Tommy probably wouldn’t have been going to L’Manburg at all, not with so many bad influences all coming to the same place (Dream, mostly, but also Techno and maybe Phil). But he still wasn’t… having a conversation with Tommy about bad influences didn’t seem like Sam’s place.

Until recently, Tommy hadn’t gotten much choice in what he did and didn’t do, so Sam would rather let Tommy make his own decisions, as much as he possibly could. Unless Tommy was put in immediate danger, of course, in which case, Sam wouldn’t hesitate to take Tommy home.

The conversation he’d had with Eret still crossed his mind from time to time, nearly every day, and at least once every couple of hours. Quackity might even like having a little brother.

He tried not to entertain the thought too seriously, given Tommy’s desire for independence. But he didn’t want to not consider it, because Tommy clearly wanted someone to rely on, even if he couldn’t admit it. Really, the whole thing was just a complicated knot of emotions that Sam didn’t know how to approach.

After the festival, maybe. Sam and Tommy could have that conversation after the festival.

Which was exactly what Sam had said after the trial.

Sam would like to make it known that he is not good at this. Difficult conversations were never his strong suit, he’d much rather take action to help someone than have a conversation about it. It seemed more productive.

Why talk to Tommy and Wilbur about Pogtopia when he could show Tommy his base and let him know that there was a spare room? Why talk to Dream and Tubbo about exile when he could just offer Tommy a safe place to stay? Why ask Tommy about potential adoption when he could just hand Tommy some papers?

… okay, he really wasn’t good at this.

“There’s the Community House!” Tommy said excitedly. “Man, this has got to be the oldest building on the server.” He grinned up at the high ceilings. “I wonder how it’s lasted this long without getting blown up or some shit. You’d figure someone would get around to destroying it. Pretty much everything else has been, at least once.”

Sam laughed. “Well, I think it’s a good thing it hasn’t been blown up.” He gestured around. “Dream, Sapnap, and George all built this place together. Pretty sure they’d be kinda pissed off if anything happened to it.”

Tommy’s grin fell, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Dream, huh?” His brows knitted together. “Yeah… I guess he would be pretty pissed.”

For a moment, watching Tommy’s expression turn vacant, Sam was almost tempted to ask if he wanted to go home. Maybe this was too much all at once, Tubbo and Techno and Dream and a festival, so soon after the trial. Too soon, probably, but the universe never did like giving Tommy a break.

But then it was gone, replaced by another smile that easily rivaled the sun, and Tommy started running. “Race you to L’Manburg, bitch!”

Sam spluttered out a surprised laugh. “Tommy!” he shouted, picking up the pace to keep up. “Slow down, the festival isn’t going anywhere.” Though it did appear to be starting, Sam noticed. He couldn’t quite make out faces, but he could see a crowd gathered in the center of the country.

Tommy easily beat Sam with his considerable head start, but he did wait once he got close to the crowd. “Come on, Sam!”

“I’m literally right here,” Sam said. “You see Tubbo anywhere?”

“No,” Tommy said, scanning the crowd in front of them. “He might be getting ready for a speech or something, though. That’s how the last festival went.” Tommy paused. “Well, there was a speech and then there was a murder, but unless the ghost of Schlatt is gonna haunt the podium, I think we’re in the clear.”

Sam shook his head. “Nah. I think we’d know if Schlatt was back.” Most of the crowd seemed to be focused on the podium, so they’d probably made it just in time for the speech. Didn’t give them much chance to mingle, but they had the whole rest of the festival to do that.

Tommy snorted. “Yeah, ‘cause Big Q and Tubbo would have slammed his head into a brick wall by now.” He waved to Puffy, who was talking to Eret and HBomb. Sam seemed to recall them having a club of sorts. Knights of Eret, if he remembered correctly, though it appeared to be mostly disbanded. “Speaking of Big Q, have you heard from him lately?”

“No,” Sam said regretfully. “I think he’s just been busy with the festival planning. He’s kind of got a lot to make up for here.” It’d be hard to make up for the Manburg Festival–or the Red Festival, as everyone liked to call it. Sam had no doubt that Quackity was stressing himself out trying to make sure everything went smoothly.

“Yeah, I guess,” Tommy gaze lingered on a hooded figure just past Niki and Jack. Off to the side and talking to Technoblade, was none other than the absolute bastard himself. Dream. “Oh, what the hell is he doing here?” Tommy muttered. “Fucking- we can’t have one good thing, can we.”

A spark of pride burst in Sam’s chest. A couple of weeks ago, Tommy would have been hyperventilating at the thought of seeing Dream. Yet, there his boy stood, glaring at Dream with something closer to disdain rather than fear. More annoyed by Dream’s presence than threatened.

His boy, he thought proudly. Not yet, he scolded himself, and maybe not ever. It didn’t stop him from being proud, though. He doubted anything could make him not be proud of Tommy. The kid could pull a Wilbur, and Sam would probably still care just as much.

Sam started to respond when the crowd suddenly fell quiet. Tommy elbowed him and nodded up at the podium where Tubbo stood.

Something about seeing Tubbo stand on a podium in his too-big suit made Sam sad, in a way. The same way it made him sad to see Tommy meticulously sorting through the things in his chest to make sure nothing was missing. Both tasked with too much responsibility, and too afraid to lose it all.

And Sam would have paid better attention to the speech the teenager was giving, if it didn’t feel like he was being stared at.

He looked around the crowd as inconspicuous as he could, not wanting to draw attention to himself. The likelihood that someone was staring at him was low, it was more likely that someone was staring at Tommy, which was infinitely more concerning.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dream. A green smear in the crowd, his pale mask turned in Tommy’s direction, and it made Sam bristle. He almost snapped his gaze in Dream’s direction, just to let the admin know that his staring hadn’t gone unnoticed.

But then Dream turned away, striking up a quiet conversation with Punz. A bit rude, Sam thought, especially with a speech going on.

A tug on his sleeve jolted Sam from his thoughts. “Is he still staring?” Tommy whispered without looking away from the podium. And, oh, of course Tommy could feel Dream watching him. The kid had been watching his own back near constantly since the first war, and maybe even before that.

“He’s talking to Punz,” Sam replied just as quietly. Tubbo was still talking, something about banding together as a country and a server, but he wasn't really paying attention. Tension eased out of Tommy’s shoulders, but the grip on Sam’s sleeve stayed. “I hope you beat him at whatever game we’re gonna play.”

Tommy smiled, the corner of his mouth turning up in a playful, cocky way, but he didn’t reply. He seemed content to listen to Tubbo’s speech, with Dream’s stare turned away from him. Sam, on the other hand, went back to watching Dream, who was still talking quietly to Techno and Punz.

Something was wrong.

Sam didn’t know what felt so off about the situation, but there was… something. Maybe Sam was just paranoid, but it seemed like maybe a conversation between the admin, the terrorist, and the mercenary was something to be concerned about.

But this was supposed to be a festival. He could his thoughts to himself, for the time being. No sense in stressing Tommy out when he had no real proof that Dream was planning anything, Besides, it seemed like Tubbo was wrapping up the speech, anyway.

He was probably overthinking it, anyway. Dream couldn’t possibly be planning anything right in the middle of L’Manburg. The admin was an evil bastard, but he was smart. They were probably discussing their war crimes. Or something. Honestly, Sam wasn’t really sure what terrorists talked about in their spare time, and he didn’t really care.

“Sam!” a voice called. Not Tommy, he realized, but it was a familiar and very welcome voice, and it made Sam smile before he even turned around.

Tommy frowned, tearing his gaze away from Quackity and Tubbo, who had just been explaining the game they were going to play (it was a simple game, throwing color-coded objects into a ring, but fun, nonetheless). “Who the fuck-”

“Ponk,” Sam greeted. The grip that Tommy had on Sam’s sleeve disappeared, probably so Ponk didn’t see. Tommy was still wary of showing ‘weakness’ in public, even though Sam insisted that it wasn’t really weakness. “I haven’t seen you in forever. How’ve you been?”

Brown eyes beamed up at him, hair hidden and face half-covered by a red mask, but Sam would know the smile anywhere. “Heard you picked up a kid.” Ponk’s gaze turned to Tommy. “How’s exile been treating you, Tommy?”

And Sam knew that Ponk didn’t mean anything by it, but Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck off.” He glanced at Sam. “You know this guy? Seems like a wrong’un.”

Sam laughed, ruffling Tommy’s hair (and Tommy allowed it, further proof of his progress). “Yes, Tommy, I know this guy. Ponk is one of my closest friends.”

Ponk looked affronted. “One of your closest friends?” She reached up to put her hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Sam. Sammy. I am hurt.”

Tommy’s nose scrunched at their closeness. “Are you two going to kiss?” he asked.

“Tommy!” Sam could feel heat rushing to his face, and he hoped that it was somewhat obscured by his mask. “Tommy, what-”

“No, no!” Tommy lifted his hands placatingly. “You fuckers do whatever you want.” He pointed to the crowd gathering for the game. “I’m just gonna… be somewhere that’s not here and… yeah.” Sam watched in exasperation as Tommy darted off, shouting something that he couldn’t quite make out, but assumed was full of cursing.

Ponk grinned at Sam’s expression. “I didn’t know you got a kid, Sam.” They cocked an eyebrow. “When did you plan on telling me? Seems like I should have been one of the first people to know, since I’m one of your closest friends.”

Sam sighed, gently pulling Ponk’s hands off his shoulders. “The situation is a little bit more complicated than ‘I got a kid’.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “And I would have told you, eventually, I just didn’t want to overwhelm Tommy.”

Their smile softened. “Sam, I’m kidding, man, relax.” They studied Sam’s face for a moment. “It is kind of weird, though. I always thought that Tommy kid was a bit of a wild one. Basically your opposite.”

“He is,” Sam agreed, “but Tommy’s a good kid. It’s been great having him around.” A chorus of shouting caught his attention, everyone staring in disbelief as Punz won the round. Again. “I think being away from everything has been really good for him.”

Ponk hummed. “I guess exile wasn’t all that great, then?” At Sam’s wince, Ponk was quick to add, “Hey, you don’t have to say anything. He just didn’t look happy when I brought it up, and you… don’t seem thrilled.” He patted Sam’s arm. “Good on you for helping him, though. I’ve been kind of out of the loop, but it sounds like you guys have been good for each other.”

Sam smiled. “Thanks, Ponky.” The nickname earned him a smack on the arm. “What?" he teased. "Don’t like it when I call you Ponky?”

“Shut up,” Ponk muttered, but Sam didn’t miss the smile. “I think that kid’s rubbing off on you.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Sam asked, watching Tommy take his turn throwing color-coded objects at a ring. At some point, Quackity and Tubbo had walked away, leaving Fundy and Ranboo to mediate the game. “I know everyone has this weird perception of Tommy, but he really is a good kid.”

Ponk shrugged. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing if he rubs off on you a little,” he said. “It just- well, you always stay out of, like, conflict and stuff, yeah? And Tommy’s always right in the middle of all that.” He paused. “Like, maybe he’s a good kid, but he’s kind of a violent one, isn’t he? I just don’t want the wrong thing rubbing off on you.”

Sam hummed. “He’s actually not all that violent if you don’t give him a reason to fight.” Abrasive, maybe, and angry at times, but not violent. Sam would sooner find Tommy playing with Fran than working on a piece of armor. And, thanks to regular mining trips with Sam, Tommy spent more time holding a pickaxe than he did any kind of weapon.

“If you say so,” Ponk replied. “Who knows? Maybe you’re rubbing off on him, too.”

“Really?” Sam asked in surprise, turning his gaze away from Tommy so that he could give Ponk a confused stare. “What makes you say that?”

Ponk waved a hand flippantly. “Ah, you’re just a good guy, Sam,” she said. “I think you’re a good influence for his young mind.”

Sam snorted. “You’re something else, Ponky, you know that?” He hadn’t really considered that he was a good influence on Tommy. Sam was an extremely flawed person, and the idea that Tommy might have learned anything from him was… a nice thought.

But, in the end, Tommy’s progress was Tommy’s progress. Sam had always felt a little helpless when it came to Tommy’s mental health, sometimes completely at a loss, so Tommy was definitely becoming better through his own volition. He could have just as easily become worse instead of better, and Sam probably would have been just as helpless to stop it.

Still a nice thought, though.

Much nicer than the dread that crawled up his throat when he looked back to the crowd and realized Tommy wasn’t there. “Wait, where-” He turned in a circle. “Where did he…”

“Where’s what?” Ponk questioned, their brow knitting in concern. “You good?”

Sam shook his head. “No, I just- Tommy was over there playing the game, I thought, but he isn’t there.” Why wasn’t he there? Tommy wouldn’t have gone far, right? He couldn’t have gotten hurt, someone would have noticed. Besides, there were no weapons allowed in L’Manburg, and that rule applied to everyone. Even Dream.

Dream, Sam realized. There was a distinct lack of neon green in the crowd, meaning that Dream had gone missing, too. Around the same time as Tommy. Could that possibly be a coincidence?

“Sam,” Ponk asked, “what’s wrong?”

Dream was gone. Tommy was gone. And Dream wouldn’t need a weapon to hurt Tommy, he could do just as much damage with his words.

“Sam,” Ponk tried again, and Sam was only distantly aware of it, because another glance around told him that Technoblade was also gone. Another threat that Sam had foolishly left unchecked.

Punz won another round. Maybe it wasn’t all that surprising, actually. He was a mercenary, after all, and having good aim was part of the job requirements. But Dream and Techno had just been talking to Punz, and now they were nowhere to be seen.

Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong, and Tommy wasn’t in his line of sight.

“Uh… Sam?” Ponk said slowly, dragging Sam from his thoughts to see them frowning at their communicator. Sam hadn’t even realized the communicators had gone off, but everyone seemed to be staring at the newest message. “You might wanna take a look at this.”

The entire gathered crowd began shouting, overlapping unintelligibly as Sam pulled out his communicator to see what had happened. He feared the worst. If he saw Tommy’s name on that communicator, he was certain he’d kill Dream on the spot, weapons or no. On sight. Zero hesitation.

He almost couldn’t bring himself to look. He did, of course, but he could hear his heartbeat in his ears while he did it.

For a moment, as Sam stared at the message, the entire world seemed to stand still. Because it wasn’t Tommy’s name on the communicator, and that had to be the most intense relief that Sam had ever felt, but it was also the shortest lived, because the name he did see was just as bad.

A speech, Tommy had said, and then a murder. That was how the last festival went. And Sam had brushed it off. They both had, really. Because there was no way something like that could happen twice, especially not so soon after the trial... right?

Wrong. Sam’s grip tightened around his communicator, dizzy with the realization of just how wrong he was.

Quackity was slain by Technoblade

Notes:

This chapter was so hard to write for no good reason, lmao. Seriously, I'm so sorry this took a while. I tried really hard to nail a specific tone, and I'm still not entirely happy with how it came out, so I apologize if this was totally awful to read

Also, y'all can pry AwesamPonk from my cold, dead hands. You have no fucking idea how long I've waited to have Ponk in the story, I love that funky lil dude so much.

Fun fact, this story was almost a complete crack fic of just. Sam and Ponk helping Tommy. That's not even a joke. The plan had always been that Sam would call Puffy first, because that made the most sense to progress the AU the I needed to, but as I was writing the chapter, I just- h. I legitimately almost abandoned this entire AU just to have Sam call Ponk instead.

Oh yeah, and also Big Q died. But we all kinda saw that one coming, amirite? And don't worry about Tommy and Dream being missing, that's totally fine. Absolutely nothing sinister happening there at all :D

Chapter 46: When Hypocrites Collide

Notes:

FULL DISCLOSURE. I am still not sure how the fuck people write fight scenes. I finally to a point where I could write a sword fight *kind of* okay, but this chapter kicked my ass, so. Prepare yourselves for some bad fight descriptions.

Anyway, uh... I don't want to get too spoiler-y in the top notes, but this is gonna be a bad time. Or a great time, depending on what you like to see in a story.

“What do you mean Dream is gone?”

Quackity huffed in exasperation. “It means he’s fucking gone, Tubbo.” He gestured to where Fundy and Ranboo were directing the game. “And if we’re gonna do this, we better do it now, because this game can only keep people occupied for so long.”

Tubbo glanced at the gathered crowd. Punz had just won the round, and everyone was shouting, some impressed, but most in disbelief that he’d won again. But Tubbo, admittedly, wasn’t too concerned with who won the rounds.

What he was more concerned about was his friend. Tommy had broken away from Sam to play the game, and it was probably the most fun he’d seen Tommy have since before L’Manburg. And–as much as he hated to admit it–he was almost, kind of, maybe, just a little bit jealous.

They had both grown up far too fast, Tubbo knew, but Tommy had Sam. Maybe they couldn’t get their childhoods back, no matter how badly they wanted it, but at least Tommy was getting to be a kid again. Somewhat. The closest either one of them could get, probably.

And Tubbo… he almost wanted that. He almost wanted the opportunity to be a kid again, just for a few days, or maybe even just a few hours. Almost.

Because even if he was presented with the opportunity to be a kid again, Tubbo wasn’t sure he’d even know what to do with himself. The weight of responsibility was a heavy one, but it was a comfort of sorts. It reminded him that he was needed. He had a place where he belonged, and that place was L’Manburg, and it didn’t matter that he had to sacrifice his childhood to have it.

Tubbo watched as Tommy pulled out his communicator. A frown tugged at his friend’s features as he stared at the screen. Maybe he was realizing how much time had passed. Maybe he was realizing that Tubbo and Quackity were still missing. Maybe Sam was just shooting him a message about something.

Whatever the case, they needed to be fast.

“Okay,” Tubbo muttered, turning back to Quackity. “Okay, let’s do this. Dream’s not here, but we’ve still got Technoblade, right?”

“Right,” Quackity agreed. “And he was target number one, anyway. This is still a win for us.” He grinned. “Who knows? Maybe killing the Blood God will be enough incentive for Dream to leave our country alone. No murder required.”

Tubbo hummed. “Maybe.” A cobblestone tower flashed through his mind. “I’d think I’d still like to kill him, though.”

Quackity laughed. “Yeah, I bet.” His gaze drifted to something behind Tubbo. “Hey, uh… what was our plan for getting Techno to the tunnels?”

Tommy had built the tunnels, what seemed like forever ago. They ran from the center of the country, underground, all the way to the outside edge of L’Manburg territory. He may have called them sewers, turning them into a joke (as he did with most things), but Tubbo knew that they were a precaution. An escape route, just in case.

It was Tubbo’s idea to use them, a ‘fuck you’ to Dream, killing him in Tommy’s creation. Hardly mattered with Dream gone, but Tubbo still liked the thought of getting a little revenge on Tommy’s behalf.

He and Quackity had successfully sealed up the tunnel’s exit. If Techno wanted to escape through there, he’d have to mine his way out, and Tubbo and Quackity didn’t plan on giving him enough time. “I think we were just gonna shoot him a message,” Tubbo said. “Give him the impression that we wanted to meet and settle differences. Why?”

“Because… he’s already headed that way.” Quackity pointed out Technoblade, who had detached from the crowd and started wandering in the general direction of the tunnels. “Looks like our favorite terrorist wanted to explore the country a little.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “Well, curiosity killed the pig, I guess.” He gave one last look to the crowd. He couldn’t see Tommy anymore, probably off talking to Sam. He was almost kind of relieved. “Now or never,” he told Quackity.

Quackity nodded, eyes glinting and a smile stretching across his face. “Let’s get this pig bastard,” he said, almost sounding excited, despite the grim thing they were about to do.

But Tubbo would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little excited, too.

The crowd of people behind them cheered as Tubbo and Quackity slipped into the tunnel after Technoblade. Someone, probably Punz, must have won another round. It was strange, Tubbo thought, how normal it sounded. The background noise to the murder they were about to commit were the delighted shouts of their citizens, and what a weird juxtaposition that was.

It almost made Tubbo falter. The shouting would be a lot less delighted when Techno’s death message appeared, probably more confused than anything, and possibly even angry. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe…

Then again, if Tubbo focused enough, he could remember a time when shouting had turned into screaming. The excitement behind him almost sounded like fear, like everything Tubbo had grown to hate. Like anger and destruction, like the Red Festival and November 16th. And with all the memories rushing to the forefront of his mind, suddenly, Tubbo didn’t care anymore.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe Tubbo didn’t give a fuck.

The tunnel darkened as Tubbo and Quackity entered, Tubbo pausing to block the entrance behind them. Technoblade had his back turned, but Tubbo could see his piglin ear flick as they entered, so he was definitely aware of their presence.

Tubbo smiled, he imagined that he and Quackity were wearing twin expressions of triumph. “Hello, Technoblade.” Finally, finally, Tubbo could have his revenge. Justice for his country, for his death, for-

“Bruh.”

Quackity snorted. “Weird choice of last words.” An axe appeared in Quackity’s hand, and Tubbo quickly followed suit. “You wanna try that again?”

Techno sighed. “I think someone needs to have a conversation with Dream about what is and isn’t considered useful supplies.” He turned, and Tubbo’s heartbeat stuttered a bit at the sight, because Techno should have been weaponless. Defenseless. Yet, there he stood with a pickaxe.

Which, really, could barely be considered a weapon. In anyone else’s hands, Tubbo wouldn’t have been worried. But in Techno’s hands? Tubbo had seen Techno beat people down with his bare hands alone, Tommy had a faint little scar on his cheek to prove it, so it was safe to assume that a pickaxe in Techno’s hand could be used for a bloodier task than its intended purpose of mining.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“How the fuck did you get that?” Quackity demanded.

Techno shrugged and stepped aside, revealing a small chest behind him. And that… shouldn’t have been there. “What-”

“Dream,” Techno supplied. “He figured out your little plan. He left before you guys could try anything, said he left a chest of supplies in here, and I figured I’d come check it out for myself.” He spun the pickaxe in his hand absently. Tubbo vaguely remembered seeing Tommy doing that with his sword, not that this was a good time to be thinking about Tommy. “I suppose I could have just left with Dream, but I think we both knew I’d get a little curious.”

Tubbo was… not feeling great about this. It wasn’t that he was scared of Techno--a lie, because he was–he was more concerned with how Dream figured out their plan. There were only four people in the entire server who knew, which meant-

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” Quackity shouted, effectively interrupting Tubbo’s train of thought. “We’ve got a traitor to deal with, on top of everything else?” He lifted his axe higher. “Well, we can deal with that later, because right now? Your canon life is mine.”

Techno hummed. “Funny. Dream did actually prepare for that one.” He lifted his free hand, the one without the pickaxe, and Tubbo blinked in surprise at the Totem of Undying.

“What the-” Tubbo said. “So, Dream got you a Totem of Undying, and then gave you a pickaxe for a weapon?” He was surprised, genuinely, but fear had started to crawl up his throat. Even if they took a canon life, it wouldn’t even matter.

“See, that’s what I’m saying,” Techno huffed. “If you’re gonna go all out on the item, might as well make the weapon a good one, too, right?”

Quackity suddenly whirled on Tubbo. “What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed. “Why are you having a fucking conversation with him?”

Tubbo shook himself. Quackity was right. He was getting off track, losing his focus. “Right,” he muttered. “You’re right.” He raised his own axe and gave Techno his best apologetic smile. “Sorry about this, Blade. We’ll table this conversation for another time.”

The piglin hybrid leveled his crimson gaze at Tubbo, then Quackity, then back to Tubbo. “And you’re sure about this?” he asked. “Like, are you really sure?"

Tubbo had never been more sure. He’d never been more angry. Even if they succeeded now, Techno wouldn’t lose anything. Techno would still walk away with all three lives intact.

Tubbo had never been so uncertain. He’d never been more afraid. Because even if Techno didn’t lose anything, Quackity and Tubbo still could. And Tubbo didn’t have a lot left to lose.

Tubbo… had done a lot of losing in his life. He’d probably done more losing than winning, really, and even the victories didn’t really feel like his. He probably should have expected this. With his track record, it was only a matter of time and, at this point, the only thing he did have left to lose was his third canon life.

The thought of it should have scared him. He was surprised to find that it didn’t. At least, it didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

“Last chance,” Techno warned.

“Stop,” Quackity said through gritted teeth, “talking.” He launched himself forward before Tubbo could react. “You ruined everything!”

Techno almost looked bored, ducking under Quackity’s wild swing, and stepping back. Quackity stumbled, just for a moment, the weight of the axe momentarily catching him off balance, but he took a step, and then another to gain his footing and swung again. And Techno could have taken that half a second to strike, when Quackity was open and vulnerable, but he didn’t.

It might have looked like a mistake to anyone else. Tubbo knew better, though. Techno’s gaze was calculated, if uninterested. It was the quiet confidence of a man who didn’t need to take every shot. He’d strike when he was ready, and not a second before. You could have that luxury when you never missed.

“You,” Quackity seethed, “ruined everything we worked for all a- fucking -long, Technoblade!” He brought his axe down, aiming for Techno’s shoulder. It didn’t land, because of course it didn’t, and Quackity all but screamed in frustration.

Tubbo suddeny realized that he hadn’t moved. He more or less felt frozen to the spot, like he couldn’t move. In the face of Technoblade with a weapon–rocket launcher, pickaxe, it didn’t matter–Tubbo felt like he was back in the box, standing on a podium and staring down death.

But he needed to move. He needed to move because Quackity was stumbling again, and Techno didn’t look nearly as passive as he did the first time. “Big Q!” He dove into the fight without thinking, darting to the side to keep Techno’s focus away from Quackity for a couple of seconds.

Techno’s gaze snapped to him, eyes narrowed. And there were explosions of color in that crimson gaze, Tubbo could see it, a horrible death by gunpowder–death by pickaxe. The world seemed to be spinning around him, which was ridiculous, because Tubbo had seen war. Fucking war. But the sight of Techno looming over him was terrifying for reasons he couldn’t comprehend.

Distantly, he wondered if this was how Tommy felt facing down Dream.

Even more distantly, he realized that Techno was now fighting two people wielding netherite axes with a goddamn mining tool. With one hand, no less, because he was still holding the totem in the other. Tubbo would have been impressed if he wasn’t so intimidated.

“Tubbo!” he heard Quackity exclaimed, ripping Tubbo from his haze of panic just in time to feel the hilt of Techno’s pickaxe drive into his stomach. “You fucker!” Tubbo probably would have shouted a pretty similar expletive if he could have managed a single breath.

He collapsed to his knees, his axe clattering the ground beside him, and he scrambled to find it with spots dancing in his vision.

Quackity was still yelling, something angry and loud, and Tubbo could barely hear it over the blood rushing in his ears. He blinked the dizziness from his vision, trying to force oxygen into his lungs as he struggled to keep track of the fight happening in front of him.

“I have a pickaxe,” Techno shouted, the first clear sentence that Tubbo could make out, “and I’ll put it through your teeth!”

Tubbo’s gaze snapped up. That was it. The threat, the warning, the promise. Techno didn’t miss, not ever, and that was the only warning Quackity was going to get. “No!”

But his protest fell on deaf ears. Techno’s pickaxe swung up, barely a blur of motion in the dimly lit tunnel. Quackity’s brown eyes widened slightly, lips parting in surprise at the sharpened pick just centimeters from his face.

It was the last expression he made before it tore through his mouth, ripping the skin all the way up to his left eye. Tubbo felt sick just watching it. He wondered if this was how Quackity felt when the right side of his face was burned off.

The only relief Tubbo had, however small it was, is that Quackity promptly disappeared after being killed, but the image of Quackity’s ruined eye might as well have been seared onto the back of Tubbo's eyelids.

For a moment, the only thing Tubbo could hear was his own heartbeat and the blood dripping off Techno’s pickaxe. It was the quietest and most terrifying three seconds of Tubbo’s life, staring at the warrior's turned back. He could strike now. Techno wasn’t looking. He could-

Techno sighed. “I’m suddenly really glad that Phil decided not to come.” He turned to stare down at Tubbo, pickaxe still in hand. “I wouldn’t pick that axe back up, if I were you. Just saying.”

Tubbo narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you waiting for?” he snapped. “You already got Big Q, why not finish the job?” He stood on shaky legs, taking Techno’s advice and not picking up the axe. “You already killed me once. Should be pretty easy for you by now.”

“Yeah,” Techno said slowly. “Look, I don’t pretend to be a man of morals, but I am a man of principle.” The pickaxe and totem disappeared into his inventory. “And ever since Phil’s incident with Wilbur, I’ve made a personal rule to not kill people that are literally asking me to kill them.”

“But you’ll kill them if they’re begging you to stop, right?” Tubbo muttered, his face stinging with the memory of technicolor gunpowder. “Great principles you got there, Blade.”

Techno hummed. “You know, the more I talk to you, the more I start to understand how you and Tommy are friends.” He scratched at his neck idly. “You’re not, like, loud about it, but you’re angry. And childish, a little, and you don’t think things through.”

Tubbo glowered at Techno. “Is there a fucking point to anything you’re saying right now?”

“Why did you do this?” Techno asked instead of answering Tubbo’s question. “Seriously, it doesn’t make sense. You kinda had everything going for you here. Your country was safe. Tommy was safe. What changed?”

A wheeze escaped Tubbo’s throat, a whisper of a bitter, angry laugh. “I don’t know,” he rasped. “I think I’ll just blame peer pressure. Seems reasonable, doesn’t it?”

Techno studied him for a moment. Tubbo set his jaw, his gaze flicking between Techno’s eyes and hands. The pickaxe was gone, for now, and Quackity’s axe was still laying on the ground. Techno was still very much a threat, and Tubbo probably wasn’t helping his case by being sarcastic and blunt, but he didn’t care.

He didn’t care. Again, probably something he should have been concerned about, and he would have been, if he had the energy. But he didn’t.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Tubbo repeated. “What do you mean ‘fine’?”

Techno shrugged. “I mean… just- fine.” He gestured to the spot where Quackity had been standing just a minute before. “Kinda figured Quackity was behind this, anyway. Seems like something he’d do. Governments, you know. They’re all the same.”

Tubbo blinked, brow furrowing. “So, you’re… not killing me.”

“Nah,” Techno confirmed, entirely too calm for someone who’d just murdered someone. Maybe that was hypocritical, all things considered. “You can expect some withers in your country, though. Sometime in the very near future.”

“No.” Tubbo’s heart lodged in his throat. This wasn’t… that wasn’t supposed to happen. “No, you- you’re pissed off at me, right? Me and Quackity.” Techno was supposed to be angry at him. Not L’Manburg. “Why-”

Techno rolled his eyes. “Relax, Mr. President. You guys did a good enough job fending off the withers last time, I wouldn’t be too worried, if I were you.” He paused. “Not about that, at least.”

“What should I be worried about, then?” Tubbo asked warily.

The piglin hybrid snorted. “Bruh, you need to be worried about Dream.” He nodded to the blocked-off entrance to the tunnel. “That guys’ been trying to get L’Manburg off the map for months now, and you just gave him a fantastic reason to follow through.”

Tubbo’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “What… but Dream was-”

“What?” Techno asked curiously. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t notice. Why do you think he tried so hard to get Tommy out of L’Manburg?” Tubbo stared at him blankly. “Come on. The one person who consistently fights against him. If he got Tommy out of L’Manburg, it was only a matter of time before L’Manburg tore itself apart.”

And that… that was exactly what had happened. Dream took Tommy, and L’Manburg fell to pieces. Maybe that wasn’t directly caused by Tommy’s absence, but it was certainly a catalyst. Tommy’s exile had left most people–if not everyone–angry and bitter, and it hadn’t gotten any better as the months went by.

“Anyway,” Techno drawled. “I’m going home.” He brushed past Tubbo and brought the pickaxe out of his inventory again. “This tunnel lead out of L’Manburg?” Tubbo nodded numbly. “Great. Have fun with the crowd outside. I’m sure they’re gonna want some answers.”

Tubbo watched Techno disappear into the tunnel, his heart still racing in the silence. Quackity had probably respawned, and everyone would have seen the message by now. Everything was going to be an absolute mess when he walked back out there, and he didn't know how he was going to face it, but he had to. He didn't have a choice.

He came to two conclusions, as he picked up his and Quackity’s discarded axes. The first being that he’d have to get his country ready for another war. Because even if Techno didn’t plan on doing anything harsher than a few withers, Dream was definitely set on destruction.

The second conclusion he came to… the horrible, painful truth of it all, was that he should have listened to Tommy.

Notes:

Okay! There's that out of the way. Quackity and Tubbo 100% did not think this through, but it's fiiiiiiine. Apart from the newly acquired scar on Quackity's part, but we all saw that one coming, I think. Some things were just destined to be, and Quackity being a vengeful bastard that bit off more than he could chew is one of those things.

Also, bonus points to anyone who can guess how Dream found out their plan! I'll give you a hint... :)

Que Tubbo having the realization that he exiled Tommy for not listening to him, and then proceeded to not listen to Tommy. Mm... love me some unintentional hypocrisy.

Tommy POV next time! Finally gonna figure out where the boy ran off to.

Chapter 47: Distractions

Notes:

DiscDuo my Beloved and Abhorred. The horribly toxic and manipulative relationship between these two is so complex and intriguing, and also makes me want to scream and cry and hug c!Tommy whilst throwing c!Dream off a very tall cliff.

Tommy had been relieved when he glanced around and saw that Dream had left the festival. Not that he was scared or intimidated by Dream’s presence or anything, just- it did feel nice to have some fun with his friends without feeling like he was being watched.

Then his communicator went off.

Meet me at the Community House.

A message from Dream.

And he wasn’t… he wasn’t scared, because there wasn’t anything to be scared of. It was a message, not a threat, and Tommy very easily could just not go. He could go find Sam and show him the message, then they could both laugh at how completely and utterly stupid Dream was.

But he looked over at Sam and, fuck, he just couldn’t do it. Sam looked so happy and carefree, talking to his friend, laughing about something that Tommy couldn’t hear. The hybrid had already spent so much time worrying and fussing over Tommy, especially when it came to Dream.

Tommy wasn’t the nicest person on the server, he could admit that, but it seemed wrong to make Sam worry while he was having such a good time. And Sam would worry. He would see the message and be immediately concerned, because that was how Sam worked. And if Sam was too busy worrying about Tommy, then he wouldn’t be having fun anymore.

If Tommy was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t do that to Sam. Not after everything Sam had done for him. Tommy could let Sam have a few minutes of fun without his burdening presence.

He supposed that he could have ignored the message. Pretend he never even saw it. He should have, Sam probably would have encouraged it.

But…

What better way to prove that Tommy wasn’t scared of Dream than to go meet him? He could prove to Dream that he wasn’t afraid, that Dream didn’t have any power over him. It could be like closure, sort of. At least, that was how Tommy rationalized it to himself.

Maybe it was his pride getting to him again. Without Sam to reassure him, reign him in, Tommy felt the overwhelming need to prove himself. To who, though, he wasn’t sure. Dream, maybe. Or Tubbo. Or maybe the ghost of Wilbur’s voice that still urged Tommy to defy Dream’s every demand, even though the poet himself  had buckled under the promise of TNT and destruction.

He’d be back before Sam even noticed. And it wasn’t like Dream would actually try anything. Even if he did, Tommy was fast. Faster now that he wasn’t half-starved and injured, like he was in exile, and he could escape Dream easily, run all the way back to the festival and tell Sam.

Dream was a bitch, anyway, and Tommy was undoubtedly the biggest and poggest person on the server. The admin wouldn’t stand a chance, really.

Tommy slipped away from the festival, muttering an excuse to Puffy and Eret before escaping the crowd and making his way to the Community House.He could go, find out what Dream wanted, laugh at Dream,probably, because Dream was the stupidest person to ever exist, and then he could come back. Simple.

Simple. Which is why he was so ashamed when he hesitated. The Community House was in sight, right there, and Tommy hesitated. Maybe he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was. Maybe he couldn’t handle this. Sam would tell him that there was no shame in that, but Sam wasn’t around.

For a moment, Tommy considered turning around. Then Dream’s pale mask turned just enough to see Tommy, staring at him and past him and through him, and he knew there was no backing out.

Tommy took a breath and walked the last few steps to the Community House. “Ayup, bitch,” Tommy said as casually as he could, stepping into the Community House and grinning like he had all the confidence in the world. “You wanted to see me?”

Dream’s mask tilted ever so slightly, and Tommy could only imagine the admin was looking him up and down. “You actually came.”

“Yes, yes,” Tommy waved a hand flippantly, “I have decided to take time from my very busy schedule to grace you with my presence.” He wanted to curse himself for being so cocky, because Dream never liked it when he was. He wanted to curse again, because he shouldn’t still be so afraid.

A traitorous part of him was relieved–and even a little thrilled–when Dream laughed. “Busy schedule?” he asked. “What are you busy with?”

“My wives, Dream,” Tommy answered immediately. “And other Big Man things that I will not get into right this moment.” He crossed his arms. “Now, I have a game I’m supposed to be winning, so if we could make this quick, that would be great, please and fuck you.”

Dream paused. “Did you mean please and thank you?”

Tommy froze for a moment. Mind your manners. “I know what I said.”

“Oh, come on,” Dream tried. “I just wanted to talk to you, Tommy. Am I not allowed to do that anymore?” He leaned against the nearest wall. “It’s been a while since we talked, you know. I missed you.”

“Really?” And he hated that it sounded so hopeful. “Wait, actually? You fucking missed me?”  Traitor, his thoughts seethed.

Dream shrugged. “Of course I did. We’re friends, Tommy.”

Ah. There it was. “No, we weren’t. We’re not.” Tommy silenced the traitorous thought that Dream might have actually missed him. “We were never friends.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to settle his urge to run as fast and far as he could. “Just tell me what the fuck you want so I can get back to the festival.”

“What makes you think I want anything?” Dream asked curiously.

“You always want something,” Tommy answered. “Everyone wants something.” It was a lesson he’d learned well. Wilbur and Dream had all but drilled it into his head. People will lie and betray to get what they want, they will manipulate and hurt whoever they need to.

Dream hummed. “I guess,” he admitted. “But I already have your discs.” Tommy scowled at the reminder. “So, I pretty much have everything I want from you.” Tommy could imagine the saccharine smile behind the mask. Too sweet to be anything but fake.

“Is that why you called me out here?” Tommy demanded. “Is this some kind of sick fucking power play?” He laughed, harsh and bitter. “I should have known better. I don’teven know why he fuck I came out here, I should have just stayed at the fucking festival. I-” He pointed at Dream accusingly. “You’re a wrong’un! You know that? A right bastard, you are.”

“Okay, look,” Dream started. “I know you don’t like me, for whatever reason-”

“Because you’re a wrong’un,” Tommy supplied.

“But is it really so hard to believe that I just want to talk?” Dream finished. “Seriously, Tommy. These trust issues of yours are really getting out of hand.”

Tommy bristled. “You’re the reason I have trust issues!” he snapped. “You and all your manipulative bullshit.”

Dream laughed. “Oh, come on. Wilbur gave you trust issues way before I did.” Tommy opened his mouth to respond. “Come to think of it… Tubbo probably gave you some trust issues, too, huh? And Techno, probably. Quackity.” He paused. “I bet Sam-”

“Shut up,” Tommy interrupted. “Don’t say a word about Sam, you absolute fucking dickhead.”

“Careful,” Dream taunted. “I think you’re forgetting that Sam was my friend before he was yours.”

Tommy scoffed. “What the fuck does that matter?” he asked. “You don’t care about attachments, remember? You don’t have any friends.” He grinned. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were just jealous.” Dream didn’t respond. “Are you? Are you jealous that I have friends and people I can trust? Sucks to be you, I guess.”

“I think ‘jealous’ is a strong word,” Dream mused. “I mostly just pity you.” Tommy never did like pity all that much. Dream knew that. He knew that. “You trust so easily, you know that? And it never seems to pay off.” He lifted his hand to count on his fingers. “Your brother betrayed you, your friend exiled you-”

“Stop it,” Tommy said, his voice wavering.

“And nobody stood up for you!” Dream continued. “None of them! You dueled me, the admin of the server, and gave up your discs for them, and what have they ever done for you?”

Tommy remembered his trick, the little white lies that Dream would slip into more hurtful truths. Puffy warned him about this, that Dream might fall back on old habits to get him back, and Tommy was prepared. “You’re wrong,” he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “They did- they do care.”

“You think so, huh?” Dream sounded almost amused.

“I know so,” Tommy said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ranboo did stand up for me. Fundy, Quackity- they didn’t want to exile me.” He set his jaw. “They visited me, too. Until you stopped them all from coming.”

Dream tilted his head thoughtfully. “Okay, maybe they did care,” he amended. “At first. But we both know that, sooner or later, everyone drifts away from you. Wilbur did. Tubbo did. It won’t be long before everyone else does.” He waved a hand flippantly. “Fundy, Quackity… even Sam.”

“No, he fucking won’t,” Tommy snapped.

“He will,” Dream insisted. “You get attached to people and it costs you. They leave you behind, and who’s there to pick up the pieces?” He pointed at himself. “Me! I’m the one who’s always been there for you.” Tommy hated that he could almost hear Dream’s smile behind the mask. “And I’ll be here for you again, once everything falls through.”

“Shut up!” Tommy spat. “You’re just trying to mess with my head again!”

Dream shrugged. “Maybe I am,” he admitted. “Or maybe I just needed to distract you long enough for Techno to find the chest I left for him.

Tommy’s blood ran cold. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Dream asked innocently. “I figured Tubbo and Quackity would have told you, since they’re your friends and all.” He tapped his chin. “Or maybe Fundy and Ranboo. You said they stood up for you, right? That you trusted them? Surely, they would have told you.”

“Dream,” Tommy warned.

Dream sighed. “Look, I called you out here so that I could warn you,” Dream said. And that… Tommy was prepared to hear Dream say a lot of things, but that was not one of them. “But since you’re being difficult, maybe I shouldn’t bother.”

Tommy scowled. “Warn me,” he repeated. “What the fuck are you warning me about? It’s a fucking festival, man. Everyone’s having fun.” He gestured in the general direction of L’Manburg. “Is that such a crime now? Is that so dangerous, Dream? People having fun?”

Dream huffed, probably rolling his eyes behind the mask. “Are you done?” Tommy bit back an insult. No pointless provocation, just like Sam advised. The sooner he figured out what Dream wanted, the sooner he could go back and see his friends. “You remember how the last festival went down, right?”

“What the fuck does that have to do with-” Tommy paused. What was it he had told Sam earlier? A speech, he’d said, and then a murder. “That’s fucking ridiculous,” Tommy said, but he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. “Tubbo wouldn’t… who would he even-”

Tommy heard the communicator in his pocket go off. Neither him nor Dream moved, staring at each other for a moment. He refused to look. Dream was lying because Tubbo wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to look, because he already knew that he wouldn’t see Tubbo’s name, because Dream was a liar and Tubbo was his best friend. He believed in Tubbo far more than he’d ever believe in Dream.

There was a time, though, when Dream was the only one he could believe in. When Dream was the only one who’d even come close to having Tommy’s trust. Even if that trust was a flimsy illusion of what trust was actually supposed to be.

Dream tilted his head expectantly. Tommy narrowed his eyes and pulled the communicator out of his pocket, turning away so that Dream couldn’t see his hand shaking.

Quackity was slain by Technoblade

Not Tubbo, much to Tommy’s relief, but- “Big Q,” he breathed. Still not great news, obviously. Tommy would rather none of his friends lose a canon life, but Tubbo was on his last, and Tommy couldn’t afford to lose his best friend. He glared at Dream. “What the fuck did you do?”

“What do you mean, what did I do?” Dream asked. “I’m not even in L’Manburg right now. How could I possibly have anything to do with this?”

“You’re behind everything that happens on this server!” Tommy snapped. “Anytime that anything happens, you’re involved somehow.”

“Am I?” Dream asked. “Well, I could say the same thing about you, Tommy.” He nodded in the general direction of L’Manburg. “So, why don’t you go ask that best friend of yours how Quackity ended up dying instead of blaming me.”

Tommy knew, with complete certainty, exactly two things in life. Everything else was shaky trust at best and blatant lies at worst, but there were two things that Tommy knew, told himself everyday, a mantra to himself. A reminder.

Tubbo is my best friend, he told himself, and Dream is a liar.

Tubbo wouldn’t lie to him, but Dream already had and definitely would again.

“Fuck you,” Tommy spat. “Fuck you, Dream.” He took a step backwards. He needed to get back to the festival. He needed to get back to Tubbo . Tubbo needed him, and he couldn’t waste any more time here. He couldn’t waste any more time with Dream.

When had fighting Dream ever gotten him anywhere? What did he gain from it, other the scrutiny of others and the loss of two canon lives? If he were angrier, he wouldn’t even think twice about it, throwing himself headfirst into a fight he knew he couldn’t win, but he was better than that now. He was better than the anger, and he was better than Dream.

He’d already been called selfish once, putting his fight with Dream over Tubbo, and he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Before he could hesitate or second-guess anything, Tommy turned and ran. Dream would probably follow him to L’Manburg, or maybe he wouldn’t, Tommy didn’t know. Tommy didn’t care, because he had far more important things to worry about.

Like the fact that Techno had just killed another one of his friends, a brother in arms, at another fucking festival. And Tommy really should have been paying more attention. He should have been more careful. He should have learned his lesson from the last festival, because maybe this wouldn’t have happened if he did.

History repeats itself, Techno had told him once. Tommy thought it was stupid, at the time, because no two stories could ever be exactly the same, and it was ridiculous to compare.

History may not repeat itself, Tommy thought bitterly, but sometimes it sure did rhyme well enough.

Notes:

OH MY FCKING GOD, Tommy and Dream are so hard to write, because they just. bbbbbbbb- I can handle writing normal conversation and I can handle writing manipulative bullshit, but it is legitimately so difficult to balance their almost normal casual conversation and borderline argumentative dialogue.

And it's always kind of been like that. Tommy and Dream had moments, even in exile, when they just sort of talked. Like the time that Dream let Tommy mess around with his trident for a little bit. Dream was still being horribly manipulative, but it was more of an underlying thing that you could almost look past if you didn't think about it too hard.

That was kind of the energy I went for in this chapter? and I don't know if I succeeded? Basically, Dream just wanted Tommy out of L'Manburg long enough for the fight to happen so that Tommy couldn't intervene or stop it from happening, because Techno was right in the last chapter: Dream is 100% looking for any excuse to destroy L'Manburg. So, yeah, the whole meeting at the Community House is a distraction, casual conversation at most, but that won't stop Dream from throwing some backhanded comments about Tommy's friends.

Because even if the comments are half-baked lies, it's still going to make the truth of what happened hurt even more. Tommy is going to go back to L'Manburg to face Tubbo with Dream's reminder of exile fresh in his mind. Which, as you can imagine, won't be very good for Tommy's mental health, and is also exactly what Dream wants.

Also, Dream POV next chapter. No particular reason, I'm just in a silly, goofy mood and I think it'd be fun to watch the world burn a little from the perspective of the person who set it on fire. Y'all angsty motherfuckers seem to like that sort of thing.

Chapter 48: Fractured

Notes:

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Dream couldn’t remember the last time he was this excited about something.

He’d always been a fan of chess. Not the game itself, necessarily, but the concept of it, with its constantly moving pieces and intricate strategies. You lost pieces, sacrifices in the name of victory, but in the end you gained everything, and that was all that mattered.

And when all the pieces lined up perfectly to destroy your opponent? When you finally have control of the board, cornering your opponent and systematically taking from them until there’s nothing left? Dream was sure that there was no sweeter victory.

Dream liked the control. He liked to win, and the Green Festival was his checkmate.

There wasn’t any real reason to rush after Tommy when he ran off. Admittedly, he had expected Tommy to put up a bit more of a fight, maybe argue with him a little, protest that Tubbo would never, ever repeat Schlatt’s cruel history. Tubbo would never commit a murder at a festival.

It was Sam’s doing, Dream assumed, that Tommy actually backed down from a potential fight. Which was… interesting. Theoretically, it might have been great news. It was what Dream wanted, sort of, for Tommy to stop fighting him, but he didn’t want it like this. He couldn’t control Tommy like this.

He had time to remedy that, though. For now, he was enjoying a nice, leisurely stroll back to L’Manburg. There was sure to be mass confusion on all fronts, and Dream couldn’t wait to see. Hopefully Punz was upholding his end of the deal, stopping anyone from going after Techno. They weren’t sure that anyone would actually try to go after Techno, but it was better safe than sorry.

What he was most excited for, though, was the fallout.

Tommy finding out about Tubbo and Quackity’s little execution attempt was just part of it. A big part of it, sure, but there were other things. Other pieces that were ready to fall into place.

Because once he’d pushed Tommy to his limits, he could start pushing Tubbo. Dream was sure that Tubbo would love to know how Phil managed to get out of L’Manburg, who had let him walk away free. Quackity would probably be thrilled as well, fresh from respawn and furious at his own loss.

It was incredible how easy it all was. Exploiting secrets and weakness, he could destroy the country, tear it apart completely, and he didn’t even have to lay a single block of TNT.

“Tubbo!” Dream heard Tommy before he could see the commotion. He could hear the way Tommy’s voice strained with worry, even from a distance. He wondered if Tommy would still be so worried once he knew the truth.

He would, Dream already knew. He’d be angry (because he was Tommy), but he’d be forgiving (because he was Tommy). It was a vicious little cycle, and Dream couldn’t wait to see how it would break the teenager’s spirit this time around.

Tommy was fussing over Tubbo when the festival did finally come into view. There were a couple more people there than when he left, Bad and Callahan and Connor, every single one of them looking confused. The entire crowd was talking frantically to each other, trying to figure out what had happened.

Sapnap was there. He looked… distraught? He was staring at his communicator, his expression flickering between anger and worry. Not that Dream particularly cared, because he didn’t care about Sapnap anymore, he didn’t care about anyone, but it piqued his interest a little. Sapnap was… somewhat close with Quackity, wasn’t he? He was probably concerned about the death message, and that Technoblade had killed Quackity.

The blaze hybrid would probably be very interested to hear that it was actually Quackity’s idea to go after Technoblade. Another little bond to break, and Dream hadn’t even planned that one.

It was a good day, he decided.

“Tubbo, are you okay?” Tommy’s hands fluttered around Tubbo’s shoulders anxiously. “Are you hurt? I saw the death message. Did Techno attack you, too?” At Tubbo’s silence, Tommy bristled. “Where is Techno?” he demanded.

Tubbo sighed. “He left through the tunnels, Tommy. He’s gone.”

Tommy’s gaze snapped to the tunnel’s entrance. “I’ll fucking kill him.” He pulled away from Tubbo and started walking

Punz immediately pulled out an axe. “Yeah, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” Everyone backed away from Punz. “I’ve got orders to make sure no one goes after Techno.” They were Dream’s orders, of course. One of the benefits of befriending the server’s resident mercenary was that Dream always had access to a little extra skill for certain jobs. For a price, obviously, but still useful.

“Whose orders?” Puffy asked incredulously. “Punz, what are you talking about?”

“Tubbo!” Ranboo pushed through the crowd to stand at Tubbo’s side. “What happened? I thought you and Quackity-”

“I fucking told you guys!” Fundy shouted, frustrated and more than a little pissed off. “I told you that this wasn’t a good idea, Tubbo!”

“I thought Eret was supposed to take Techno’s weapons,” HBomb said.

“I did!” Eret protested.

“Let me through!” Tommy demanded, storming up to Punz like his anger made him invincible. As much as Dream liked Tommy obedient, he did miss that spark of defiance a little. “Get the fuck out of my way!”

“Tommy!” Sam called, concern lacing his voice. Dream almost felt bad for the creeper hybrid, just one more person tricked into caring about Tommy.

The festival had deteriorated. It was chaos, everyone shouting at once, everyone scrambling for answers that no one seemed to have. Dream almost appreciated why Wilbur craved destruction, and the angry symphony that got left in its wake.

Somewhere in the chaos, Sapnap had left. Dream assumed he went to find Quackity, maybe demand some answers of his own. And Dream didn’t… that was fine. If Sapnap wanted to miss the show, Dream wouldn’t stop him. He didn’t care.

A part of him wanted to, though. He wanted to find Sapnap and drag him back. A horrible, traitorous little part of him wanted Sapnap to witness his greatest achievement since Tommy’s sentencing. Even if it wasn’t as friends, because they weren’t friends, but he wanted-

He didn’t know what he wanted.

But he knew what he needed, and he needed control. He didn’t need Sapnap around to get it.

Tubbo pulled away from Ranboo, who had put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt at comfort. “Would everyone just calm down for two seconds? No one is going after Techno, Tommy, so leave it alone.”

Tommy whirled around. “Why not?” he demanded. “He just killed Big Q!”

“Because we attacked him first!”

Dream imagined the crowd falling silent at the revelation, but the shouting only got worse. ‘Why would you do that’ and ‘what the fuck were you thinking’ were really the only things he could pick out of the chaos, but he didn’t particularly care what the rest of the pawns had to say.

The only thing he cared about was Tommy staring at him from across the gathered crowd. His eyes were wide and angry, disbelief in every shaky breath he drew. Dream felt like he could almost hear Tommy’s thoughts warring with each other.

Finally, Tommy’s gaze hardened. “Dream was telling the truth.”

That got the crowd quiet. Quiet, and glancing between Tommy and Dream like either one of them could explode if they said another word.

Dream shrugged. “Of course, I was telling the truth. I don’t know what you were expecting.” He gestured to Tubbo. “I can’t believe you actually trusted him, Tommy. He’s gotta be the worst president this server has ever seen, and this just proves it!”

Under normal circumstances, Tommy would have leapt to Tubbo’s defense. Instead he turned to Tubbo slowly, betrayal overtaking his features. “Why?”

Tubbo hesitated. “Tommy, it’s complicated.”

“No, it isn’t!” Tommy exclaimed. “I gave you an out, Tubbo! Techno was retired and weaponless in the middle of fucking nowhere, and all you had to do was leave him alone!” He ran a hand through his hair, almost pulling at the strands. “I can’t keep doing this, I- I can’t keep fixing what everyone breaks!”

Tubbo’s gaze flicked between the crowd and Tommy, the guilt and shame every bit as visible as his scars. “Tommy, I-”

“No,” Tommy interrupted. “You know what? No!” He leveled Tubbo with a glare. “One thing,” he said. “Does that sound familiar, Tubbo? I asked you to do one thing for me, and it was for your own good!”

The young president looked absolutely frozen to the spot. “It’s not- Tommy, if you would just let me explain-”

“Like you let me explain?” Tommy asked. “You want me to hear you out now? You want me to promise to be on your side?” He shook his head, turning away so that he didn’t have to look his friend in the eye. “I’m done, Tubbo. I mean it. I’m done.”

There was always something satisfying about slowly breaking a thing until it bent the way you wanted it to, watching it fracture under the pressure. More interesting than breaking some thing, though, was breaking some one.

Wilbur’s descent into madness was slow and methodical. Loneliness and anger cultivated paranoia, and it carved a beautiful path to Wilbur’s own self-destruction. It was a shame, Dream thought, that you could only break a person like Wilbur once.

But Tommy? Well, Tommy was… different.

Wilbur fell into madness, spiraling until he crashed, until he was forced to embrace what he’d become, but Tommy faced madness and danced with it.

Tommy brushed against his own destruction, letting loneliness and anger and desperation graze him like arrows, and then, somehow, incredibly, he’d get back up again. Tommy was something that Dream could break over and over again, an eternal game of cat and mouse that Dream never, ever lost.

It was fascinating. Tommy Innit was absolutely fascinating.

But there was someone trying to fix what Dream broke. “Tommy!” Sam broke away from the crowd and walked up to Tommy. Not a lot of people would, because an angry Tommy was a volatile Tommy. An explosive and reckless and dangerous Tommy.

He used the term ‘dangerous’ loosely, though. Techno was dangerous, Wilbur had been dangerous, but that was all skill and strategy. Tommy was dangerous in a way that only Tommy could be. It was more survival than skill, a hissing feral kind of dangerous. An uncontrollable kind of dangerous that only Dream knew how to contain.

Sam would learn. You didn’t approach a cornered animal unless you wanted to get bit.

“Fuck off, Sam!” Tommy spat. “I need to… I need-” He pressed his hands into the side of his head. “Everyone, shut up!”

Punz whistled. “Kid’s losing it over here.” Tommy growled in response. “Not helping your case.”

“Oh, you think this is bad, Tommy?” Dream asked. Tommy’s gaze snapped to him. “Tubbo and Quackity were planning to kill me, too.”

Tommy recoiled and looked to Tubbo for confirmation, the crowd around him muttering frantically as two best friends stared at each other. Tubbo curled in on himself under Tommy gaze, unable or unwilling to say anything in his defense. Just as well, Dream thought, he didn’t really need Tubbo’s input at the moment.

“Tubbo, Quackity, Ranboo, and Fundy were all in on it,” Dream continued. “After I took down the walls and let L’Manburg have its freedom, they decided to kill me as thanks.”

Fundy scowled. “How did you even know-”

“Does it matter?” Dream asked. “Does it really matter how I found out? You aren’t denying it.” Fundy glanced away. “I’m not sure why you’re so shocked, though. It’s not like your little club was ever all that good at keeping secrets.” He gestured to Ranboo. “I mean, you’ve got a traitor standing right there.”

Tubbo’s head snapped up, glaring at Dream. “Don’t accuse my cabinet of being traitors, Dream,” he said. “Ranboo has done nothing to betray this country.”

Dream laughed. “Hasn’t he?” He looked to Ranboo. “Do you want to tell him how Phil got out of L’Manburg? Or should I tell everyone for you?” Ranboo’s eyes widened, lips parted in shock. “Well? We’re waiting, Ranboo.”

Ranboo hesitated. “It wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to betray anyone.”

The confidence Tubbo had in his cabinet members seemed to evaporate on the spot, turning to Ranboo with betrayal in his eyes. “Ranboo?”

“He watched Phil leave,” Dream said, because Ranboo clearly wasn’t going to say it. “Techno broke into L’Manburg territory to get Phil, and Ranboo saw them. He talked to them. He let them leave, even though he knew you wanted to interrogate Phil.”

Tubbo shook his head, pulling away from Ranboo. “Why would you… Ranboo, why?”

“You fucked up,” Tommy muttered. “You all fucked up, I can’t believe this-” He tugged at hair anxiously, angrily. “I had it fixed, it was fixed, and everything was fine!” He glared at Tubbo, and Dream could see the anger beginning to fracture and chip away at all of Sam’s progress. “I fucking trusted you, Tubbo!”

“Do I still need to be here for this?” Punz asked, his tone implying that he would rather be anywhere else. Dream couldn’t fathom how he could possibly be bored. This was the most entertaining thing Dream had witnessed since Tommy’s exile.

If Tubbo had heard Tommy or Punz, he didn’t acknowledge it, still staring at Ranboo with wide eyes and trembling hands. “Ranboo, why would you let him leave? I’m supposed to be able to trust the people in my cabinet, and you knowingly betrayed me?”

Ranboo held up his hands placatingly. “I didn’t mean to betray you! It just- it just sort of happened, I didn’t think-”

“You didn’t think what?” Tubbo demanded.

“Tommy said Techno would destroy the country if we did anything to Phil!” Ranboo explained as quickly as Tubbo would let him. “I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal to let him go. It seemed like everyone would be safer if I just let him leave with Techno.”

Tubbo grit his teeth, “Well, he’s going to destroy the fucking country, anyway! We’re on the brink of another war!”

Fundy scoffed. “And whose fault is that, Mr. President?” he asked. “You and Quackity were too fucking stubborn to listen when Ranboo and I said this wasn’t a good idea!”

“I didn’t see you trying to defend Techno!” Tubbo retorted. “Seemed to me like you were having a blast just mediating the game!” He gestured around him wildly. “I tell you that Techno’s bringing war, and you wanna play the blame game? Right now?”

“This is the second war we’ve had since you became president!” Fundy shot back. Which Dream would have love to point out himself, but he was just as happy to have the residents of L’Manburg at each other’s throats. Things were always a little more fun that way. “Excuse me for pointing out a pattern!”

“What happened on November 16th was not my fault!” Tubbo spat. “I did not start that war! If you want someone to blame,” he pointed in the general direction of the Final Control Room, “then why don’t you go visit your father’s grave!”

Tommy clapped his hands over his ears. “Shut up!” he nearly screamed. “All of you, shut the fuck up!”

Dream tilted his head as Tommy began to fracture right before his very eyes. A crowd of wary citizens watched as Tommy took shallow, stuttering breaths.

“What’s the matter, Tommy?” Dream cooed in the silence. “I told you this would happen.”

“Shut up,” Tommy repeated, a mantra to himself. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

Sam stepped forward again, seemingly hellbent on approaching the server’s vicious little beast. “Tommy, we can go home. I told you that you don’t have to be involved in this anymore, remember? We can go home.”

“I don’t want to go home!” And Tommy did something that took everyone, even Dream, by surprise.

Tommy pulled out a crossbow. Which may not have been the most surprising thing. L’Manburg had laws against weapons and armor, but Tommy was a known rule-breaker. And Punz had already broken the rule anyway, as had Tubbo and Quackity, making the rule a moot point.

The surprising thing–the interesting thing–was that Tommy leveled the crossbow at Sam. That was always the greatest thing about Tommy, though. Dream could never be bored of him.

“Tommy!” Puffy exclaimed. “What are you-”

“Tommy?” Tubbo interrupted, his voice shrill and desperate. “Tommy, put that away!”

Fundy threw up his arms in exasperation. “How many people brought weapons here?” he demanded. “We have rules against this!”

Sam, in rather stark contrast, didn’t start shouting. But Sam had always been the quiet type, anyway. Dream wasn’t sure Sam could shout, even if he tried. The guy could be authoritative, when he wanted, but not loud. “Tommy, you’re not supposed to have weapons in L’Manburg.”

Tommy shook his head. “I don’t care. I don’t fucking care!” He tightened his hold on the crossbow. “I wasn’t even wrong to bring it! At least three people have brought weapons to this festival, that we know of! I was right to bring it!”

“You told me you didn’t bring any weapons,” Sam continued. “You told me that you left your weapons at home.”

“I lied!” Tommy shouted. “I fucking lied, Sam! Because everyone lies!” His gaze flicked to Tubbo, then Dream, and back to Sam. “Everyone- all of you! You can’t trust people, Sam, I told you!”

Dream hummed. “I didn’t lie, Tommy,” he reminded. “I’ve done nothing but tell the truth since I got here.” Tommy’s brow furrowed, his teeth bared. “You know I’ll always tell you the truth, Tommy.”

The crossbow in Tommy’s hand trembled as he glared at the open air, at a distant memory, his gray stare locked into a past that he couldn’t escape. And Dream had spent a lot of time making sure that Tommy couldn’t escape it. “Shut up, Wilbur!”

Sam took a step forward. “Wilbur’s not here, Tommy.”

“I know that!” Tommy snapped. “I know, he- and I’m not-” His gaze flitted around the crowd. “I’m not… where is- what was I-”

Tubbo, suddenly looking a lot more scared of his friend than concerned for him, slowly backed up until he was standing by Ranboo again. Apparently, any thoughts of betrayal had vanished alongside Tommy’s stability.

Dream wondered, vaguely, if Tommy knew how paranoid he sounded or how crazy he looked. He wondered how long it would take for Tommy to notice that he was scaring his friends and pushing them further and further away. He wondered how long it would take for Tommy to realize he’d become everything he never wanted to be.

Wilbur and Tommy. Brothers, through and through.

It wouldn’t matter, though. Tommy would bounce back, and then Dream could pick him apart all over again. And again and again, until all the pieces fit the way he wanted them to. Like mirror shards that Dream could break and piece together until he created a perfect reflection of Tommy. A perfect image.

“Tommy,” Sam said again. And damn him for that. God damn him for that, because Dream couldn’t pick up Tommy’s broken pieces if Sam kept beating him to it. “Tommy, I need you to look around. Do you know where you are?”

Tommy blinked. “I’m- this is L’Manburg, dickhead, what are you-” He blinked again, his eyes widening and clarity sharpening his gaze. “Oh, shit- oh, fuck.” The crossbow disappeared back into Tommy’s inventory. Dream was kind of disappointed that Tommy didn’t shoot anyone in his clouded state of mind.

He knew Tommy had done worse in such a state. Jack Manifold could attest that a distant Tommy, an impulsive Tommy, was a Tommy capable of very bad things. Like shoving people into lava and firing crossbows at people who didn’t deserve it.

Maybe next time.

“Fuck- I didn’t mean that,” Tommy said. “I shouldn’t have brought- and I don’t even know why I did, I just-” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Sam?” he wheezed. “Sam, I need to go. I need to leave, I can’t be here.”

Sam nodded. “Okay,” he said calmly. “Then we’ll leave.”

“So soon?” Dream asked, more to taunt Tommy than anything else. “But we were having so much fun here.” He was definitely a little sad that his fun had to end early, but with Tommy already on edge, he doubted he’d have to wait long before the next breakdown.

Tommy winced. “Sam.”

“We’re leaving.” Sam strode forward and put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

For a moment, Dream just had to wonder how the fuck Sam did that. If it were Dream approaching a rabid Tommy, fresh off a mental breakdown, the teenager would be reeling. He’d be stumbling over himself to get away, or apologize for whatever mistakes he may (or may not) have committed.

But Sam just… walked up to Tommy, with nothing but a few kind words and a hand on his shoulder. And Tommy let him! Dream had tried that, quiet reassurances between the explosions, and it had never worked that well. It worked well enough that Tommy wouldn’t leave, but not well enough that Tommy would want to stay.

Dream tilted his head as Tommy and Sam left, leaving a muttering crowd behind them. He wondered if Sam knew how much power he held under his hand. Dream had tried for so long to have Tommy under control like that, and it had almost worked, but Sam made it look practically effortless.

Sam was a problem, Dream decided. One he could deal with at a later date.

“Well,” he drawled, “this has been a great festival!” He clapped his hands together. “Unfortunately, I have plans to make, so I’ll have to cut this short.”

Tubbo, still looking rattled from Tommy’s outburst, shot Dream a nervous glance. “Plans? What- what plans?”

Dream tsked. “Oh, come on, Tubbo.” He crossed his arms. “You didn’t think you were getting off the hook for that little assassination attempt, did you?” Tubbo stiffened. “Yeah, no. I’m not sure what Techno has planned and, quite frankly, I don’t really care. This country is going down in flames, regardless.”

“Great!” Punz said. “Does that mean we can leave?”

“Sure,” Dream replied, already growing bored of the remaining crowd with Tommy gone. “I’ll be back in a couple days, anyway.” And L’Manburg wouldn’t stand a chance. Not without Tommy to take the hit. Without Tommy to sacrifice his discs or his lives or his freedom, L’Manburg would burn to ash.

And Dream, for one, could not fucking wait.

“You think Techno’s got any withers?” Dream asked Punz as they left L’Manburg territory. Punz snorted in response and, honestly, that was a pretty fair reaction. Of course, Techno would have withers. Techno wouldn’t be Techno if he didn’t.

Really, the citizens of L’Manburg shouldn’t have been surprised by what was coming. They were already very well acquainted with withers and TNT.

Notes:

So. How about that new lore, huh? I'm very not okay about it. If I'm still writing this AU that far into the lore, I will be changing so much shit. Which, you know, I hope to be, but I guess it depends on whether or not people are still interested in a story that runs for that long, lmao. Like, I definitely have plans for the prison arc already, but we'll see how it goes.

Now, moving on to the chapter discussion: Tommy has Trust Issues! No, he shouldn't have brought a weapon. Yes, he brought one anyway. Because he's not scared of Dream, but he IS scared of Dream, and nobody needs to know that. He never even intended to use it. He was so sure that he wasn't going to use it, that it wasn't even mentioned in other chapters for the purpose of shocking you, the readers, just as much as it shocked the crowd.

Everyone knows that line. The Line. "If I can't be the next Schlatt, then you can't be the next Wilbur." And now we have Tubbo shouting at cabinet members (namely Fundy and Ranboo this chapter, but Quackity will have his turn) and a paranoid Tommy that doesn't know who or what he can trust. Why? Because I'm in a silly, goofy mood. And the breakdowns got to happen from Dream's POV, which is pretty poggers, from a storytelling standpoint, because he is the man responsible for both their breakdowns.

Also, if this chapter seems kinda rushed, that's because it is. I'm in the process of moving house, and might not have internet for a minute? So, I wanted to go ahead and get this chapter out before that happened. I apologize if it's not up to standard, I have not slept in. idk, but it's definitely been longer than 24 hours.

Chapter 49: Talk to Me

Notes:

uuuuuuuuugh, finally finished moving house and *finally* got this chapter done.

Anyhoo, did someone say QuackNap chapter? No? Well, you're getting one.

Sapnap wasn’t really sure where it all went wrong but, somewhere along the way, sometime between the wars, Dream had stopped being… Dream. It was almost easier to believe that there was a monster possessing Dream’s body, because he didn’t want to associate the admin of the server with the guy he’d once called his friend.

A year before, maybe even a few months before, Sapnap would have stood at Dream’s side. They would have fought together, laughed together, won together, and Sapnap wouldn’t have given it a second thought. He trusted Dream, his best friend, and nothing else mattered.

Until… and there was no real defining moment, Sapnap was almost ashamed to admit that he always kind of knew, but Dream had become something far worse than Wilbur had ever been, despite the fact that Dream always managed to twist that story to make the poet the bad guy. He pushed the narrative until Wilbur actually became the villain.

Was that where it all started? Wilbur? Wilbur and Tommy, and their harmless little country? Sapnap would be the first to admit that he wasn’t exactly against the creation of L’Manburg. Even tried to visit! Of course, Wilbur had refused him–apparently, there was a rule against letting in Americans–and that was really the only reason he’d sided with Dream in the first place.

He was sure he wouldn’t make that decision again, if he could do it over. If he had known Wilbur’s bit of fun would turn into a war, he would have stopped Dream. Or maybe he would have stopped Wilbur. He wasn’t even sure why he didn’t stop either of them in the first place, it was just- it was supposed to be fun. He’d considered making his own nation once or twice. A kingdom maybe.

He’d never voiced that desire to Dream, though. Dream was his friend, but he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he’d be spared from the admin’s wrath if he committed Wilbur’s sin.

The point was, despite it being… war, no one was supposed to get hurt. At least, not in any way that mattered.

And then they were making deals with Eret. They were cornering people in an obsidian box. They were killing children–actual children –in the Final Control Room. He still remembered how shocked Tubbo had looked, just a split second before Sapnap took his first canon life. He wondered if it bothered George just as much to kill Fundy.

He kinda figured Punz didn’t care all that much about killing Wilbur. And he knew for a fact that Dream hadn’t cared about killing Tommy.

It was a victory, though. He rationalized it as a necessity. They needed to get their point across to L’Manburg, just… and everyone they killed still had all had three canon lives. It wasn’t malicious, really, it was practically harmless. The citizens of L’Manburg survived Eret’s betrayal, even if the country didn’t, and that was supposed to be the end of it.

No more L’Manburg, and Dream would be satisfied. They could go back to normal.

It was supposed to go back to normal.

Then Dream was dueling Tommy. Then Dream was enabling Wilbur. Then Dream was building obsidian walls and dragging Tommy away to fuck knows where. And the worst part about all of it was that Dream didn’t care.

Dream didn’t care about the people who called him a friend. He didn’t care about anything, explicitly stating that he only cared about the control he could get from holding Tommy and his discs hostage. He was weirdly obsessed with it, and nothing that anyone said could convince him to let it go.

Every moral Sapnap had ever sacrificed in the name of helping Dream, every life he took, and every war he’d helped Dream win, was all pointless as far as his supposed best friend was concerned.

Sapnap never understood why Dream couldn’t just let it go.

It made him wonder, briefly, traitorously, if maybe Wilbur had been right all along. Maybe someone did need to stand up to Dream. Not that L’Manburg did it the right way, or even a logical way, because, in the end, Wilbur had hurt the citizens of his own country far more than he’d ever hurt Dream, but still.

As much as it pained Sapnap to think about it, he wasn’t Dream’s friend. Probably hadn’t been for a long time. And he couldn’t stand to see Dream’s mask at that festival, he couldn’t bear to hear whatever speech he had planned for the citizens of L’Manburg. He didn’t want to see or hear anything about Dream’s next power play.

Dream wasn’t his friend. Sapnap didn’t care.

He did have people who were his friends, though, and people that were more than friends. People like Quackity, who he really needed to find. Quackity, who he was, admittedly, just a little bit very pissed off at. He didn’t anger easily, but he could feel the familiar heat of irritation crawling up his throat as he approached Quackity’s house.

“Quackity?” Sapnap called as he neared his fiance’s front door. “Quackity, I know you’ve respawned by now.” He knocked on the door anxiously. He was mad, yes, and the blaze hybrid in him wanted to set the ground around him on fire, but he was far more scared than he was angry. “If you could just- I don’t know. Just talk to me? For a second?”

The door swung open, a familiar pair of eyes glaring up at him. “What do you want?” And any trace of anger that Sapnap might have felt evaporated in a moment. “Sapnap, what do you want?” There was a scar that tore through the left side of Quackity’s mouth, a line that ran all the way up his face and through his eye, blinding it, turning the iris a pale color.

“Holy shit,” Sapnap breathed. He moved to cup Quackity’s face in his hands, running his thumb along the new scar. “Holy shit, Quackity! Did Techno do this to you?”

Quackity flinched away. “Stop it!” he snapped. And Sapnap cursed himself for forgetting that Quackity was a little more reserved than Karl, especially when it came to physical contact. He’d kill Schlatt for it, if the man were still alive, and assuming Karl wouldn’t get to him first. “Sapnap, what the fuck are you even doing here? I thought you were off dicking around with George.”

Sapnap hesitated. “I- yeah, I was, but I heard about the festival and…” He flailed with his words uselessly for a moment. “I just… I know it’s- it’s been a while, and I wanted to see you.” He gestured weakly. “But then a message popped up in chat saying you had died, and I’ve been freaking out for, like, the past ten minutes.”

“Freaking out?” Quackity scoffed, his lip curling in disbelief. Sapnap’s heart stuttered at the sight of a missing tooth. Was there a way to fix that? “You?”

“Yeah, Quackity,” Sapnap said in exasperation, “me. Because I only showed up to this stupid festival so I could see my amazing fiance, and the first thing I see is his death message.” Quackity glanced away. “So, you know,” Sapnap continued, softening his tone. "I panicked a little.”

Quackity huffed. “Yeah, well… maybe you should stop worrying so much.” He pushed past Sapnap to start walking away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, me dying just left Tubbo alone with a terrorist, so I really need to go.”

Sapnap caught his arm gently. “Tubbo’s fine, Quackity. Techno already left L’Manburg. Dream’s just doing this… weird speech thing, but-”

“Dream?” Quackity ripped his arm away from Sapnap. “That’s not better, Sapnap! You get how that’s not better, right? Because, I don’t know if you’ve realized this or not, but your friend is certifiably fucking insane.”

“Well, at least Dream wasn’t making any plans to kill people today!” Sapnap pointed out. “Seriously, what were you doing? Taking on Technoblade, with no help other than Tubbo? Fucking Tubbo?” He crossed his arms. “Tell me what part of you thought that was a good idea.”

Quackity narrowed his eyes. “First of all, Tubbo is a perfectly capable fighter.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t!” Sapnap protested. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t-”

“Second of all,” Quackity continued, “Techno fucking deserved it! I said I’d kill the bastard, and I don’t go back on my word.”

Sapnap dragged a hand down his face. “I know you don’t, but this didn’t… You didn’t think that maybe this was something you could leave alone? Like, just this once, couldn’t you have just left it?” He didn’t understand it. He didn’t. Dream couldn’t let it go, and neither could Wilbur, and neither could Quackity. Crazy bastards, the lot of them, but Sapnap happened to love this crazy bastard in particular.

“No!” Quackity exclaimed, “I couldn’t have just left it, Sapnap!”

“Why not?” Sapnap asked desperately. “Quackity, you’re gonna end up getting yourself killed one of these days! Like, actually killed!” And Sapnap knew for a fact that he couldn’t handle the loss. He couldn’t lose another friend, and he certainly couldn’t lose a fiance.

Quackity scowled. “Nobody is going to take this country seriously if we keep backing down,” he said. “What happens the next time Techno decides he wants to go on a murdering spree, huh? We just fucking let him? Let him off with another slap on the wrist, courtesy of Eret being a fucking coward?”

“This is about the fucking trial?” Sapnap asked incredulously. “Is that seriously what you’re so pissed off about?”

“No!” Quackity threw up his hands in exasperation. “I’m pissed off because a terrorist destroyed my home! November sixteenth was a fucking shit show, Sap. Do you have any idea how many people almost died that day?”

Sapnap sighed. “Yeah, Big Q, I do. I was there.” He was there, and he still wasn’t entirely sure that he was on the right side. He wasn’t sure if there was a right side at all. Hell, he was engaged to two people that had once been on the opposing side of a war. How much did sides really matter after that?

“Then you get why Tubbo and I needed to kill him,” Quackity said. “That trial was a fucking joke! Techno deserved real consequences for the shit he pulled.” He grit his teeth. “And Dream, too! For everything that he- and we could have done it! Tubbo and I had the perfect plan, it’s just-”

“Hold on,” Sapnap held up a hand to stop Quackity, because he wasn’t sure he had heard that right. He hoped he hadn’t heard that right. “I thought you were only after Techno.” Quackity scowled. “You were seriously trying to kill Dream?”

Quackity’s face twisted in a grimace, the new scar tugging at his mouth. “So, what if we were?” he challenged. “You can’t possibly think he doesn’t deserve it, Sapnap. After everything he’s done to this server?”

It was a complicated thing, determining whether or not someone deserved to lose a life. Whether or not a friend deserved to lose a life. Or someone that used tobe a friend. “It- it’s his server,” Sapnap said weakly. “And he’s my best friend, Big Q, it’s not-”

“And that excuses it?” Quackity demanded. “He’s the admin and your best friend?” He sneered. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Sapnap, but Dream doesn’t give a shit about you. He doesn’t give a shit about George or Callahan or any of us.”

He knew that. He had come to terms with that. It didn’t mean he liked Quackity throwing it in his face.

Sapnap took a breath. “That isn’t what I meant, Quackity, and you know it.” Quackity scoffed, but didn’t reply. “I’m not saying that him being the admin excuses the… any of it, but it’s not safe to just attack him. Techno might have killed you, but Dream could have done way worse.”

“Yeah, I know.” Quackity muttered angrily, pressing the heel of his hand into his newly scarred eye. “I know he could do worse, Sapnap, that’s why he deserves to get taken down a notch. Him and Techno both. They don’t deserve to have that kind of power.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I mean, fuck, after everything Dream got away with during exile-”

“Exile?” Sapnap interrupted. “You- are you talking about Tommy? What does Tommy have to do with-”

“Everything, Sap!” Quackity snapped. “Tommy has everything to do with this, because if there’s anyone who knows what Dream is capable of, it’d be him.” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Tommy would fucking get it. This server isn’t safe until that bastard learns his place.”

“And how do you expect to do that?” Sapnap asked. “By pissing him off? Because he is seriously pissed off right now, Quackity.” He could feel the heat of anger in his fingertips. It wasn’t even that Quackity was wrong, exactly, because maybe Dream did deserve it, but why did he have to be so reckless? “That country of yours is probably going to get blown up to hell and back. Again. Because you wanted some petty fucking revenge.”

Quackity’s gaze snapped to him, his half-blind stare absolutely blazing in anger. “It’s not fucking petty,” he seethed. “And this is about more than just L’Manburg. You think I want to spend the rest of my life being the vice-president of this country? I want to build something more than this, Sapnap, and I can’t do that until I know you’re safe!”

“Until I’m safe?” Sapnap asked. “What the fuck are you talking about? What are you trying to build?”

“I-” Quackity cut himself off, eyes almost comically wide, like a child that had gotten caught doing something they shouldn’t have. “Nothing,” he said quickly, tearing his gaze away from Sapnap in favor of staring at the ground. “Never mind.”

Sapnap felt like he was fighting a losing battle when Quackity got like this. Defensive and angry. It wasn’t a battle that Sapnap minded, really, because Quackity was worth that fight, and he’d always been a warrior. He was a strong man. He could handle it.

But sometimes– sometimes –Sapnap wanted to be a weaker man. He wanted to stamp his foot and yell and be so fucking frustrated. People often assumed that of him, that he’d be the angry one, but he truly preferred not to be. Contrary to popular belief, being one of the better fighters on the servers didn’t mean that he wanted to be angry all of the fucking time.

Sometimes, though… just sometimes. “Quackity,” he said firmly.

“Forget it, Sapnap,” Quackity bit out, turning on his heel to start towards the festival. “Fucking- forget it, okay? It’s nothing.”

Sapnap followed close behind him, not thrilled to be heading back in the direction of the festival, but too worried about his fiance to care. “I’ll forget it if you take five seconds to fucking talk to me, man.” And he would drop the subject. He’d drop it easily, because, truthfully, he didn’t care. He’d always known Quackity was ambitious, and if he had another project in mind? Fine!

He didn’t care about the nations or the politics of it all, he cared about his friends and his fiances. He didn’t care about the festival or the next potential war that would come from pissing off Dream, he cared that he wanted to talk to his fiance.

But Quackity didn’t slow. If anything, Sapnap would swear that he started walking faster. “Big Q, come on,” he tried. “You just respawned, you need to take it easy.”

Quackity snorted. “Yeah, because you’re the expert in respawning, right? You know all about losing canon lives.”

“Just because I haven’t lost any canon lives, doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about it,” Sapnap protested, moving to walk side by side with Quackity. “I was there when Karl respawned! I know it’s rough and-”

“Karl!” Quackity interjected. “You know, maybe you should go talk to Karl, yeah? And let me deal with my country.” He waved a hand flippantly, not even sparing Sapnap a glance. “I just- I need to deal with this. We can talk later, but I have to deal with this first.”

Sapnap could see the festival coming into view. He imagined it was absolute chaos, and he didn’t want any part of it. Guilt tugged at his chest at the thought of letting Quackity walk into the fire alone, but he also knew that Quackity wouldn’t appreciate it if he stayed. Sapnap didn’t particularly care about L’Manburg, but Quackity did, and him being there wasn’t going to help if he couldn’t provide any real support.

“You better swear to me, right now, that we’ll talk later,” he said, slowing to a halt and taking Quackity’s arm again, and stopping him just for the moment. “And I am so fucking serious about this, Big Q. Swear.”

Quackity’s gaze met his, briefly, then flicked away again. “I-”

“I don’t even care what we talk about!” Sapnap pressed. “We can talk about Techno or El Rapids or- fuck, man, we can debate whether or not lava is wet, I don’t care, I just want you to talk to me.” It was less about the talking, and more about making sure he didn’t lose anything else to Dream’s wrath. He needed to know that Quackity was going to come back. He needed to know Quackity was going to survive this and come back.

For a horrible moment, Quackity was silent. Not a good sign, Sapnap had learned, because Quackity was a talker. Smooth and charismatic, and anything that could render the duck hybrid speechless was nothing good.

Then Quackity laughed, and something in Sapnap’s chest loosened at the sound. “You’re a fucking moron, you know that?” Quackity slipped his arm out of Sapnap’s grasp, and reached up to hold his face. His hands were pleasantly cool against Sapnap’s perpetually warm skin. “Okay, yes, I swear that we will talk later. Happy?”

“Not quite,” Sapnap hummed. He pressed his forehead against Quackity’s. “I think I need a kiss first. Just to seal the deal, you know. Like a pinky promise, except better.” Sapnap and Karl had always been affectionate, but Quackity had been reluctant, almost shy. As shy as someone like Quackity could be, anyway. Sapnap had always known Quackity to be a bit of a charmer.

He remembered the first time he and Karl were able to properly show him in affection. They’d been entirely invested in their own makeout session while Quackity had a conversation they didn’t particularly care about. Then Quackity had walked over, smiling nervously and obviously flustered at their blatant display of affection, and asked them to quiet down.

Karl and Sapnap proceeded to take turns kissing the nervousness off of Quackity’s face. Needless to say, they hadn’t quieted down in the slightest, but, in their defense, Quackity didn’t protest it too hard. And Sapnap and Karl had been absolutely delighted to smother their fiance with affection.

Quackity heaved a dramatic sigh, a playful smile playing across his lips. “I guess I could do that.” He tilted Sapnap’s face and kissed his cheek with an exaggerated sound. “And one for Karl, whenever you see him next.” He pressed another, equally exaggerated kiss to Sapnap’s other cheek. “Feel better?”

“Yes.” No, not really, but this was the closest Sapnap was going to get, so he’d take it. “Go save your country, Mr. Vice President.” He gave Quackity a quick peck on the forehead before pulling away. “Come and find me whenever you’re ready.” Quackity nodded, then turned to walk away, right to the festival.

He watched Quackity walk away for a moment before sighing and starting in the opposite direction. Maybe he did need to go find Karl. At the very least, he could keep track of one of his incredibly reckless fiances. Not that he had much room to talk on the subject of being reckless, but Karl had once let himself get blown up to frame Eret, and Quackity was- well, Quackity.

Sapnap felt pretty confident in saying that he wasn’t all that reckless in comparison.

… there had to be a better way to do this.

There had to be a safer way to do this. Sapnap couldn’t keep losing everything to the server’s stupid, petty wars. He was tired of it, all of it, and he’d almost rather find a way to escape it all than go through it all again.

And he supposed… that he could actually do that.

If there was nowhere on the server that Sapnap could rely on to be safe, then maybe he could create one. It wouldn’t be hard, if L’Manburg was anything to go off of, but Sapnap could do it better, because he wouldn’t create governments or start wars like Wilbur and Dream. And he kind of already had El Rapids as practice.

He could probably get George in on it, and even find a builder to commission. It’d take a while, obviously, this wasn’t something that he could do overnight, but he had time to plan. Karl would probably be ecstatic, and he’d run it by Quackity whenever he got the chance.

No war, no conflict, it could be less of a nation and more… a refuge for the people he cared about. Dream couldn’t get too mad about that, right? It’s not like he wanted it recognized as an independent country or anything, he just wanted… he wanted a home he didn’t have to abandon, like El Rapids, with people that weren’t going to leave him behind the second he didn’t have a war to win, like Dream.

A home, he decided. He wanted a home for himself and the people he cared about, and he’d build it himself if he had to.

Notes:

AH. Okay, little reprieve from the intensity of the last chapter, and we got a little deep dive into Sapnap's character, because... I wanted to, and his character is too interesting to not give him *at least* one chapter of his own. And I have to tell you guys that this chapter, when I first wrote down the idea for this AU, wasn't even part of the story. I actually only recently decided to add it, and I added it for one reason and one reason only:

Any time I saw content about Quackity reuniting with his fiances (prior to the lore stream where Karl called him a murderer) I saw so much content that made Sapnap just. angry. And it pissed me off, like, to a ridiculous degree, because Sapnap's character just isn't like that. He is canonically so fucking in love, and I genuinely did not understand why so many people were insisting that he'd be uncontrollably angry.

So, I decided that I was going to write soft Sapnap in this story somewhere, and when I double-checked the list of people who attended the Green Festival, lo and behold, Sappy Nappy was in attendance, which gave me the perfect excuse to write him in.

Also, the video with Karl and Sapnap practically attacking Quackity with kisses lives in my head RENT FREE, they canonically love to smother their fiance with love, and it makes me so very soft and happy.

Chapter 50: Drowning

Notes:

Tubbo angst? Tubbo angst.

Lots of Tubbo angst.

Tubbo was floating.

It wasn’t a good kind of floating, he didn’t think, and not a bad kind of floating, it just felt distant. It was unfamiliar, and where his mind was supposed to be a reliable thing, every thought felt drowning. Like he was just below the top of the water and couldn’t quite breach the surface.

And the floating could almost be peaceful, if a little suffocating, if it weren’t for the noise around him. It was muffled under the anxiety threatening to drown him, voices screaming, metal on metal- weapons, he thought, but they didn’t allow weapons in L’Manburg, no one was supposed to fight here, this country was supposed to be safe-

“Tubbo!” a voice ripped him from his thoughts. He blinked as the sounds of war around him faded. Looking  around, he could see that… there wasn’t anyone fighting. Not with weapons, anyway, and no one was really shouting. He could sort of hear Ranboo talking in the distance, an indistinct crowd of voices talking back, but that was it.

He almost wished it was a war. At least he knew how to carry himself through war. He dreamed of it, relived every moment until it was memorized, spent hours awake just thinking of ways to prevent it from ever happening again. War was familiar, and it was terrifying, but at least it was something Tubbo knew he could handle.

He didn’t know how to handle a newly scarred Quackity stalking towards him.

“Tubbo, what the fuck happened?” Quackity asked. “Where’s Techno?” He glanced around. “Where’s Dream?”

Tubbo shook his head numbly. “Techno left. Dream… also left.” There was so much more to say than that. Their country was going to be destroyed, and Tubbo couldn’t pull his thoughts together long enough to warn Quackity of the incoming danger. “They, uh- they’re pretty pissed, Bossman.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Quackity huffed, frustration creeping into his voice. “Of course they’re fucking pissed, and we’re screwed, because we didn’t make any contingency plans for this going wrong.”

“Yeah,” Tubbo agreed, “we kinda are.” And they were, to put it bluntly, no need to beat around the bush on that one. They were completely and utterly screwed.

Quackity had given him an odd look before replying, “Okay,” he said slowly. “You kinda seem out of it. Did something happen?”

“Uh-” There was certainly… something that happened, but Tubbo was still struggling to pull his head above the water, and just couldn’t articulate everything that had gone wrong since Quackity’s death. “I think Tommy hates me,” was just about the only thing he could pick out among the tidal wave of thoughts.

“Tommy isn’t capable of hating you,” Quackity dismissed.

But Tommy was capable of it, Tubbo was sure. Tommy hated Dream easily enough, and Tubbo had done nothing but enable the admin’s fucked up power trip ever since Tommy and Ranboo’s harmless, petty crime. He hadn’t even meant to, was the thing, but did he even have a choice when Dream could make him bend so easily? Had Dream always planned it this way? Was it inevitable that Tubbo would ruin Tommy?

The realization made Tubbo think that maybe floating beneath the surface of his mistakes, however dizzying and suffocating it became, was better than actually facing the mistakes. He found that he preferred the drowning to remembering the anger in Tommy’s voice as he spat out a venomous, 'I fucking trusted you, Tubbo!'

Despite everything, Tommy had trusted him. And Quackity said that Tommy wasn’t capable of hating him, but Tubbo couldn’t imagine the glint in Tommy’s eyes being anything other than hatred. And wouldn’t Tubbo kind of deserve it, anyway?

“Seriously, you could take Tommy’s last canon life, and he’d probably forgive you,” Quackity continued. “I can’t believe that’s the thing you’re focusing on when we literally have a traitor somewhere in this country.”

Quackity didn’t seem to realize how far from reassuring that was. Because even if Tommy didn’t hate him, even if Tommy forgave him, it didn’t change the fact that Tubbo would still deserve it. He would deserve the hatred, because there was no limit to the damage could do if Tommy would never stop him.

Tommy would let Tubbo hurt him over and over again, and it was less that Tommy would let him, and more that Tommy couldn’t stop him. What kind of president hurt their people, hurt their friends, simply because they couldn’t be stopped?

“Tubbo,” Quackity said firmly. “Listen, man, I need you to focus. You and Tommy are going to be fine. There are more important things to worry about-”

“No,” Tubbo interrupted. “No, I’m- don’t say that to me right now, Big Q, I’m so fucking tired of this.” He frowned. “You didn’t see him. You didn’t fucking see it.” He couldn’t fathom anything being more important than this right now. How long had he already put this off? Maybe everything else could wait this time. Maybe L’Manburg could wait just two fucking seconds for Tubbo to make things right with Tommy.

Unless it was too late for that. Was it too late for that? Did he lose his country and his best friend? Was he that fucking stupid? He felt that stupid.

He’d tried, he had really fucking tried to do everything right. To do right by a country that needed him and a friend that needed space, and all he’d done was fuck it all up. Dream was right, he was a terrible president.

“I know I didn’t see it,” Quackity said, his tone bordering on frustration. “I literally just died, Tubbo, and I’m asking you to fill me in.” Tubbo was kind of glad he was still on the barely there side of numbness, because Quackity’s impatience would probably be a lot more irritating if he was a little more present.

Still, he probably did owe Quackity some kind of explanation. The issue was sorting through the tidal wave of thoughts that assaulted him whenever he tried. “Did you know Ranboo let Phil out of L’Manburg?” he blurted out, mindless words practically spilling out of him. “Uh… Dream said-”

“Ranboo, what?” Quackity shouted, and Tubbo flinched at the sound. “Are you fucking serious?” An angry, breathless laugh escaped him as he turned to glare at their fellow cabinet member. “I guess we found our fucking traitor, then. Maybe that execution platform’s gonna be good for something after all.”

“Sorry,” someone said in the distance said– Ranboo, he realized--sounding as close to angry as any soft-spoken person could, “that I don’t align myself with whatever piece of land you decided to side with this week!”

“L’Manburg isn’t just a piece of land!” another familiar voice protested, Niki, this time. And of course she would defend Wilbur. She was a lot like Tubbo that way, not quite ready to let things go, no matter how corrupt it became. He’d probably hold on to L’Manburg just as long as she’d hold on to Wilbur.

Part of him found comfort in that. Part of him wondered if they’d ever get the closure they deserved. He hoped Niki did, anyway. Someday.

Tubbo really wasn’t even sure why he had tuned into a conversation he wasn’t a part of, but he suspected that it was largely because he just… didn’t want to listen to Quackity. “Wilbur built L’Manburg for a reason!” He caught Niki saying, a few, much quieter voices chiming in to agree with her.

“It was a drug van!” Ranboo shot back. And that… that’s all it was. Wilbur’s revolution was a drug van. The entire nation was built on nothing but an improvised anthem and a dead man’s spite, and Tubbo had spent so much time trying to keep it standing.

But Ranboo didn’t care about the nation. He wasn’t interested in the politics of it all, he just cared about the people in it. Ranboo might not have lived in L’Manburg at all if he hadn’t befriended Tubbo. It wasn’t like Tubbo had given him much reason to stay, either. He just did. Ranboo stayed because he cared enough to do it, and…

And Quackity… had dared to call Ranboo a traitor.

The thought of it ripped Tubbo from his thoughts, pulling him out of the water and leaving him burning, seething, on dry land. “Absolutely fucking not,” he hissed. “Are you serious? Did you not just learn your fucking lesson here, Big Q? Because I sure did!”

Quackity scoffed. “Yeah, I learned not to take on Technoblade with just two people.”

“How are you this fucking stupid?” Tubbo demanded, and watching Quackity recoil from him left him feeling both confident and sickened. He knew who he sounded like. He knew and he hated it. “You want to execute Ranboo? At a festival that he helped plan and decorate?” he pressed. “You don’t think, maybe, that sounds really fucking familiar, Quackity?”

“Tubbo-”

“And you don’t have any fucking proof that he told Dream about the assassination attempt!” Tubbo continued, stepping forward to jab Quackity in the chest, and the way Quackity looked at him was so horribly familiar. “At least you found proof that I was a spy, but you’re accusing Ranboo on basically nothing. He let Phil out of L’Manburg because he was afraid of what might happen if he didn’t, and you-!”

“Tubbo,” Quackity tried again, his hands up and placating. The half-step back told Tubbo everything he needed to know about what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop. “Tubbo, just- fucking listen for a second-”

Tubbo grit his teeth. “Shut up, Quackity!” he shouted. “You’re gonna fucking listen to me! I’m sick and fucking tired of no one listening to me!”

Quackity’s mouth twisted, eyes narrowing. “Oh, no one listens to you, huh?” And his expression is one that Tubbo had seen a thousand times after a thousand arguments, but it had never been directed at him like this before. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Tubbo, but everyone here fucking listens to you! I may have given you the idea to kill Techno and Dream today, but you gave the official order, and we all followed through!

“Just because you don’t like how things turned out, doesn’t mean no one listened,” Quackity continued, somehow only fueling Tubbo’s anger. “So get your head out of your ass and stop looking for someone to blame! We all fucked up here, including you.”

“I did everything right!” Tubbo protested. “I did everything I was supposed to do to protect this country!” And every emotion that came with every heart-wrenching decision was starting to catch up with him. He wished he was numb again.

Quackity sighed. “You know what, man? Fine." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Fine! We won't execute Ranboo." He leveled Tubbo with a glare. "But don't you dare act like your actions were solely about protecting this country."

Tubbo frowned. "What?"

"What?" Quackity mocked. "Come on! Anything you have against Techno is mostly about L'Manburg, but it's also vengeance, so don't pretend your actions are so fucking pure." He sneered, a terrifying thing with his scar rugging at his lips, "And you haven't done shit to stop Dream."

"I was forced to exile my best friend to take down some stupid walls!" Tubbo retorted. "How is that not stopping Dream?"

"Because Dream lied and you fell for it!" Quackity yelled. "Tommy didn't even burn down George's house! He and Ranboo just robbed it, which everyone does without consequence, and you refused to hear him out. You refused to listen to Fundy and I when we said exile was a bad idea." He grinned, a spiteful, angry thing. "Tommy accepted exile for a crime he didn't commit and advocated for Techno's trial. If anyone has been stopping Techno and Dream from doing shit, it's Tommy."

Tubbo's hands curled at his sides. "Well, you were just as mad about Techno's trial as I was," he hissed. "And killing him and Dream today was your idea, so get off your high horse."

Quackity burst into laughter. "I'm not on any high fucking horse, Tubbo. I can admit that I've fucked this up. I can admit that I'm a selfish bastard and, even if I do want the best for this country, my agenda always comes first. But you?"

"What about me, Big Q?" Tubbo challenged.

"Well, you claim to be protecting this country," Quackity said, his voice dripping with the cruelest curiosity Tubbo had ever heard. "So what exactly are you going to do about Dream?"

Tubbo blinked. "I- what?"

"You said Dream is pissed off, right?" Quackity pointed out. "Him and Techno are probably gonna bring war." He crossed his arms. "So… what are you gonna do about it, Mr. President?"

And Tubbo didn't… he didn't know. Tubbo had fought in wars, yes, spied for Wilbur and done a damn good job, but those weren't his wars. They weren’t wars that he had caused. They were wars that Wilbur had started, they were wars that Tubbo had fought, and…

They were wars that Tommy had ended.

Tommy had given up his discs, twice. He handed them over to Dream for their independence and then put aside getting them back to help with the fight against Schlatt. He had even turned down presidency for the sole purpose of making sure L'Manburg stayed out of his fight with Dream.

Tommy ended wars. And if Tommy was there, still a citizen of L'Manburg, he'd already be strategizing. He'd already be talking to people, sorting out armor and weapons. Tommy would be doing something far more productive than whatever the fuck Tubbo was doing… which was nothing.

"Exactly," Quackity said. "You don't know what you're doing and you never did. The least you could do is be honest with yourself and admit that you fucked up.” He gestured around them. “We didn’t mess up trying to protect this country, we messed up trying to get revenge." He let his hand fall back to his side. “The sooner you accept that you’re just as obsessed with your agenda as I am, the better off you’ll be.”

“I don’t have an agenda,” Tubbo replied immediately. Because he was a president. Democratically selected, kind of. Wilbur had chosen him, anyway, and everyone had agreed. He was supposed to be a man of the people and his concern was the well-being of his citizens, not some stupid fucking agenda.

Quackity raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

And… for someone known to be a horrible liar, Tubbo was never all that great at being honest, either. Especially not with himself. He knew very few truths in life, and one of those extremely fragile truths was that Tubbo needed purpose.

Too many things had gone wrong in Tubbo’s life, nearly everything that had happened to him since joining the server had gone horribly wrong, and none of it was his choice. Being president of L’Manburg fixed the broken pieces of Tubbo that desperately needed to be in control.

He sent Tommy away because he needed control. Tommy was disobedient, Dream would have trapped them, and there was no control in being trapped. He wanted to execute Techno because he needed control. Techno was a wild card, a terrorist that deserved consequences, and if Tubbo could make sure that he learned his lesson, then everyone would knew that he was a president that could be taken seriously. He had planned an assassination plot because he needed control. Because everything had started spiraling, and nothing went as planned, and Tubbo needed to follow through on the one fucking thing he said he was going to do.

Control was Tubbo’s agenda.

And he would have done anything to get it.

“Look,” Quackity sighed, “I have… a project, of sorts, that I’m going to be working on soon.” Tubbo felt his anger slipping away as Quackity spoke, sinking back under the waves. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you against Techno and Dream, because this is partially my fault, but after that? I think I’m gonna have to leave this place behind.”

Tubbo nodded, unable to articulate a proper response. If he could, he probably would have said that it’d be totally fine if Quackity left. There probably wouldn’t be a country left to stay in, anyway.

“Nothing personal,” Quackity shrugged, “but it’s like I said. I have my agenda and you have yours.”

“Okay,” Tubbo managed. And he’d never felt further from okay in his life. He almost would have preferred getting shot with fireworks again.

Something about that should have concerned him, probably. But it didn’t. And he didn’t care.

It was almost funny, if Tubbo thought about it long enough, that he’d exiled Tommy for the country’s sake and then proceeded to ruin the country, anyway. It sort of reminded him of someone. A former president. Someone he promised he’d never be.

But Tommy could attest that Tubbo wasn’t all that good at keeping his word, being Tubbo’s most notable victim, clinging to the promise that Tubbo wouldn’t exile him, only for Tubbo to rip it away. Tubbo probably should have known the moment he’d given the order to have Tommy escorted away from L’Manburg what he was going to become. But he’d been, oh, so arrogant to believe that he could do it better.

At the end of the day, though… Tubbo had ended up no better than Schlatt.

At some point, Quackity left. He must have, because Tubbo found himself alone in the muffled quiet again. He let himself quietly drown in his mistakes, floating just beneath the surface of the water with no one to blame but himself.

Some small part of him wanted to be saved. Another part of him knew that he could maybe save himself, if he really tried. Most of him didn’t care, though. He was too exhausted to care.

He knew he wouldn’t really deserve the escape, anyway.

Notes:

Alrighty, I just wanna make this clear right quick: everyone on the serve is an unreliable narrator.

Tubbo's thought process in this chapter isn't 100% reliable. Is there anyone that believes Tubbo is even remotely as bad as Schlatt? Hell, no, and no one will ever believe it. But does *Tubbo* believe it? Well, if it looks like Schlatt and it sounds like Schlatt, then it must be... yeah. Because he is traumatized, and his brain is really, really mean to him sometimes. He's going to draw connections wherever he can, and this just so happens to be a lot of coincidental, circumstantial things that *kind of* seem like something Schlatt would have done.

The agenda comes first. It's a lesson Tubbo internalized without ever realizing it. And even the brief moments he did kind of, almost, even approach the realization that his actions were just a little bit more selfish than he thought, he could always fall back on the excuse that he was doing it for L'Manburg. Without that excuse, Tubbo is simply left with his hurtful actions, nothing to protect and no one to blame.

He tried his best. Now someone give the boy a fucking hug.

Also, we're finally getting back to the AwesamDad content next chapter. Tommy POV, pog.

Chapter 51: Descent

Notes:

Tommy angst. So much Tommy angst.

You guys, seriously, this whole chapter is just. hurt/comfort/HURT/comfort/pain

Tommy was falling.

It wasn’t a good kind of falling, he knew, but he didn’t want to think about what a bad kind of falling could mean for him. It was a familiar feeling, one that Tommy had felt before, but it had never been quite this out of control. He didn’t- and he didn’t want to say the word spiral, because he knew what that meant, and it meant that there was something wrong with him.

And there was something wrong with him, but that was a different kind of wrong. Tommy was violent and angry and selfish, and all of it was inherently wrong, the wrong thing to be, but at least he wasn’t any worse than all the other violent, angry, selfish people on the server. There was such a long, long list of things wrong with Tommy, but this… he was supposed to be better than this. He was supposed to be better.

“Tommy,” a voice outside himself said. “Tommy, are you okay?” Was he? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure that he cared. “Tommy, slow down a second.”

Tommy whirled on the voice, his vision filling with a green and black blur. “What?” he demanded. “What the fuck do you want?” He shouldn’t have shouted. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he did, because every nerve in his body was fried and hot to the touch, and shouting was the closest he could ever get to exploding.

Sam seemed unfazed by his anger, apart from the slight furrow in his brow. Tommy imagined there was a disappointed scowl behind the stupid fucking gasmask he wore, and that, somehow, made him angrier. “I think we need to talk about what just happened, Tommy.”

“And I think you’re a fucking dickhead,” Tommy shot back. He didn’t think that, really. Sam was far nicer than Tommy deserved, too patient and too kind. “There’s nothing to fucking talk about, Sam, just leave me alone.”

“Okay,” Sam said slowly, “well, I just had a crossbow aimed at me a couple of minutes ago.” Guilt crawled up Tommy’s throat at the reminder. “And, you know, that’s not exactly nothing, so I think we definitely need to talk about it.”

Tommy couldn’t look at Sam. “Definitely need to shut the fuck up, actually.” He already knew what he did, and he didn’t need to hear Sam throw it in his face. That seemed to be everyone’s favorite pastime, throwing all his mistakes in his face like they weren’t just as bad as he was.

Even Tubbo, his best fucking friend, had taken the first opportunity he could to call Tommy selfish and irresponsible and toss him aside. If Tubbo could do it, so could Sam.

Sam, annoyingly, sighed in very clear disappointment. “Okay, well, I’m not going to shut the fuck up,” he said. “If I ever did something like this to you, I know you’d want to talk to me about it.” And the thought of Sam aiming any kind of weapon at him made him feel sick and angry.

“Is that a fucking threat?” Tommy demanded, finding the courage to look Sam in the eye. “Are you fucking threatening me, Sam?”

Red eyes blinked at Tommy, bewildered. “How is that- Tommy, why would I be threatening you?”

“I don’t know!” Tommy snapped. “Why the fuck do you do anything?” A part of him knew that Sam wouldn’t threaten him, because Sam would have no reason to. But Sam didn’t have a reason to do anything. Sam didn’t have a reason to help Tommy, why would Sam need a reason to hurt him? Everyone else seemed to do it easily, often, and with no remorse.

Sam shook his head. “Okay, you’re deflecting-”

“I’m not deflecting shit.”

“Then tell me why you brought a weapon to L’Manburg,” Sam said. “Tommy, you knew you weren’t supposed to bring weapons or armor. If you didn’t feel safe in L’Manburg without something to defend yourself, then we didn’t have to go.”

Tommy’s fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t- I don’t know,” he muttered. And he didn’t. Not really, he just- and he didn’t even think he’d need it! “And what the fuck are you so pissed off at me for? I didn’t even do anything!” He hadn’t fired it. He just had it. “Tubbo and Quackity were literally trying to kill people, but sure! Get pissed off at me!”

“Why should I care about that?” Sam asked. “Tubbo and Quackity have a whole country full of people to be upset with them, not to mention Techno and Dream. I’m not gonna waste my energy being upset with them when I have other things to worry about.”

“Yeah?” Tommy spat. “Like what?”

“Like you, Tommy,” Sam said in exasperation. “I’m worried about you.”

Tommy felt something ugly curl in his stomach. “No, you’re not.” Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Tommy beat him to it. “You’re not! No one is ever worried about me! No one cares that much, Sam, you’re not a fucking exception.”

“Maybe people should care more!” Sam protested. “Maybe people should be worried about you. Maybe I want to be the exception.”

“I don’t need you to worry about me,” Tommy hissed. “I don’t need you.” Which was terrible to say, Tommy knew it was, but it was true. At least, he believed it to be true, and that was good enough. “I don’t fucking need people, Sam, I’m fine.”

Sam threw up his hands in frustration. “But you do!” he yelled, in the way that only Sam did, not really yelling, but it made Tommy flinch all the same. “Tommy, you do need people. Everyone needs people, it’s how we survive. How many times are you going to let yourself fall before you understand that?”

It felt like an insult, the way Sam said it. Like Sam was demanding to know why Tommy couldn’t understand something simple, even though it wasn’t simple. “I’m not stupid.” Tommy glared, taking a half-step back. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some dumb fucking kid.”

“I know you’re not stupid,” Sam said, softer this time. Patronizing, Tommy’s thoughts seethed, it’s patronizing, and it made him impossibly angrier. “I never said that you were, Tommy. I just said that I’m worried.”

“And I said don’t be,” Tommy shot back. “I’m not weak!”

And he wasn’t. Never had been. Never could be. People like Tommy didn’t have the luxury of weakness, because there were other people that needed it more. There was always someone that beat him to it. Someone that collapsed before he did and left him to pick up the pieces.

But that was fine. He could live with that. He had to.

Tommy had always felt an awful kind of pride in his ability to get back up. People had called him stubborn for it, despised him for the tenacity it took to keep putting the pieces of himself back together again, but Tommy didn’t care. His stubbornness kept him alive.

Pogtopia had ruined whatever was left of his brother after the wars, and it could have ruined him, too. Maybe it should have ruined him. But Tommy, even though he’d been through all the same wars,  the same exile, and even had the added embarrassment of giving up his discs for a country that didn’t want him, had recovered from the fall when Wilbur hadn’t. Because he was just too stubborn to let go.

And he was ashamed to admit that a part of him, no matter how much the rest of him loved Wilbur, hated Wilbur for being too weak to stay. L’Manburg had killed Wilbur, but Tommy had survived. He knew he’d never forgive himself for it, and he didn’t expect anyone else to, either.

Deep down, though, he was relieved. Selfishly so. He'd survived.

“I don’t think you’re weak, Tommy. I’m- that’s not even what this conversation was supposed to be about.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset with Tubbo, I get it, but what you did back there wasn’t… that wasn’t okay.”

And, of course, Tommy was upset. Why wouldn’t he be? He had the right to be! Tommy and Tubbo had always been a duo, side by side, willing to take on the world and doing whatever it took for their cause. They were inseparable, until it was convenient for Tubbo to leave him behind. There were enough people that left Tommy behind that it wasn’t really an issue. Tommy was used to it.

The real issue, Tommy had realized, was the difference between him and Tubbo. Doing ‘whatever it took’ for the cause meant something different to both of them.

Because Tubbo would give up anything for the cause. Any one thing, even if it didn’t belong to him, even if it wasn’t his to give, even if it was Tommy. But Tommy would give up everything. Everything he owned, everything he stood for, gone. He’d given up his freedom and his discs and his home, and it was for nothing.

Tommy could accept that Tubbo had to sacrifice things for the cause, even if that thing was him, but he refused to accept that he’d been sacrificed only for Tubbo to fuck things up. He could understand that his freedom was worth enough to protect his country, but when Tubbo had carved a path to destruction anyway, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d just been tossed aside.

The only thing worse than being a means to an end was being worthless. Tommy was less than nothing if he wasn’t useful.

And a part of him knew, he knew, that he could never hate Tubbo for any of it. He did, and he didn’t. He wanted to, but couldn’t. He couldn’t hate Tubbo anymore than he could hate Wilbur. For that alone, he’d hate himself more than anything, because his life would probably be so much easier if he could give less of a shit.

He hated himself for that, too. How selfish did you have to be to think like that? To want to hate more than you wanted to hurt? Did it matter that he was incapable of hating Wilbur if he still wanted to? Was that still just as bad?

“Tommy,” Sam pressed. “You understand what you did wasn’t okay, right?”

Tommy grit his teeth, struggling to keep himself present. “So what?” he snapped. Lots of people had done ‘not okay’ things on the server. But, of course, only Tommy would get singled out. “Who fucking cares?”

“I care!” Sam looked something close to angry. It was deserved, and Tommy hated it, but at least it was familiar. Tommy knew what to do with anger, how to defend himself against it. “Tommy, you aimed a crossbow at me, and I feel like you purposefully keep skipping over it.”

“I didn’t fire it!” Tommy protested. “I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t have, Sam. I’m not… I wouldn’t have done that to you.” But even as he said it, he wasn’t entirely sure it was true. He definitely wouldn’t have meant it, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it. He had a very vague, foggy memory of… Jack, maybe? In exile, he’d pushed someone into the lava in the Nether, and he was almost certain it was Jack, but he wasn’t- he couldn’t be sure.

A lot of exile was like that. At least, the things he didn’t want to think about too hard. And, truthfully, Tommy didn’t even remember much of the festival, either. Not after Tubbo admitting he’d tried to kill Techno and Dream. And he wanted Sam to stop talking about the festival, he wanted it to stay fuzzy and distant, because…

Because Dream hadn’t lied. Tommy had so desperately clung to the fact that Dream was a liar, but Dream had told the truth. And if Dream was telling the truth about Tubbo, then what else did he say that was true? How much of Dream’s poison was just medicine Tommy didn’t want to take?

“How was I supposed to know that, Tommy?” Sam asked. “You can’t aim a weapon at someone and just say that you didn’t mean it. I need you to tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know!” Tommy exploded. “Is that what you want to hear, Sam? I don’t fucking know.” He turned away, tangling his hands in his hair. “I barely remember doing it.”

Sam hesitated. “That- that definitely seems like something we should be worried about.”

Tommy was pretty certain he’d made it explicitly clear that he didn’t need or want Sam’s concern. “Fuck off.” He spun on his heel and started walking away. “Fuck off, Sam! Leave me alone!” He didn’t know where he was going, exactly, he just knew he needed to be away.

“I’m not doing that,” Sam said, his voice not sounding any further away, and Tommy had to reason that Sam was following him.

He hated that Sam wasn’t listening to him. He hated that he was relieved. “Fuck you!” He fought the urge to run away or run right back to Sam. And he couldn’t figure out why his brain refused to decide which way he needed to run. “I said to leave me alone!”

“And I said I’m not going to do that,” Sam repeated. “Tommy, you can’t keep running from everything.”

“It’s not running if everyone leaves me first,” Tommy shot back without turning. “It’s fucking- it’s a tactical retreat at that point, Sam.”

Sam made a sound that almost seemed wounded. “That’s the plan?” he asked. “You’re going to push me away before I can leave you behind?”

Tommy’s chest tightened. “Maybe,” he said shakily. “Why not?” he asked, forcing his voice to steady. “I could’ve- you saw what I almost did. You should fucking hate me. You will, eventually.” Because Dream was right, and maybe Dream had always been right, and there was no one that could care about Tommy without condition.

“I won’t,” Sam insisted.

“You will.” It was poison to even be in Tommy’s presence. Tommy ruined everything in his path, he was destruction incarnate, and loved so deeply that it cracked the foundations of countries. Tommy was selfish, never ready to let go, even as his closeness rotted everyone he touched. “You’ll hate me.”

If Tommy could ruin Wilbur and Tubbo, it was only a matter of time before he ruined Sam. It’d already begun, Tommy baring his weakness for all of L’Manburg to see. For Sam to see.

And Sam already knew a little, some pieces of exile, but what he’d done in L’Manburg was different. A glimpse into something uglier and too raw to expose. Sleepwalking, hallucinations, a quiet kind of madness, and Tommy still wasn’t sure how much of it was real.

He didn’t know how much of this was real. How much of Sam’s concern was real. Sam shouldn’t have to suffer waiting for Tommy to figure it out. He shouldn’t have to be yelled at and have crossbows aimed at him because Tommy’s thoughts were falling through cracks of his reality. He shouldn’t have to be burdened by Tommy’s spiral.

Sam didn’t deserve that. No one did. Tommy couldn’t believe he ever thought he deserved to be this close to anyone.

A hand caught his arm. “Tommy!”

Tommy tried to wrench his arm away, heart in his throat. “Let go of me!” he shouted, scarlet eyes and broken guitar strings flashing across his vision. “Let go!”

“No!” Sam answered, his grip firm around Tommy’s arm, but never tugging or tightening. “You don’t get to decide when I stop caring about you, Tommy, that’s not how this works.”

“Well, make it work,” Tommy hissed. “I break everything I touch, Sam, and you’re not a good enough craftsman to fix me!”

Sam shook his head. “You don’t need to be fixed, Tommy,” he said in an even voice. “None of this was ever about fixing you. You’re not broken.”

“Stop it!” Tommy attempted to pry Sam’s hand off his arm. “Stop saying shit you don’t mean, Sam!” Sam couldn’t mean it after Tommy messed up that badly. It’d taken a far smaller mistake for Tubbo to cast him aside. Wilbur had cast him aside, and all Tommy had done for him was stay.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Sam said earnestly. “I care about you.”

Tommy blinked rapidly, unshed tears burning behind his eyes. “But how long will you care about me?”  And, fuck, he had really meant for that to sound angier. He didn’t mean for it to sound that desperate. Wilbur would have hated him for the weakness, and Dream would have punished how manipulative it was.

They’d be right, the both of them. What right did Tommy have to be upset when Sam was the one who almost got hurt?

“I’m sorry,” he choked out before he could stop himself, the fight draining from him. “I- fuck, I’m sorry.” Apologies still felt heavy on his tongue, but Puffy had told him they were necessary for healing. He couldn’t fathom how, because Wilbur had apologized before, and so had Dream, and they were all hollow and meaningless.

Apologies were manipulative, in Tommy’s experience, but Puffy said he was different, because he would mean it. He wasn’t so sure that was true, and he didn’t know Puffy could seem so certain.

The hand on his arm fell away. Tommy’s gaze snapped up to Sam, taking a step back at the expression, not because it was particularly threatening, just one he didn’t recognize. “Sam?”

“There’s not a time limit.”

Tommy blinked. “I- what?”

“You asked how long I’m going to care about you,” Sam said. “There’s not a time limit. Caring doesn’t have… prerequisites, or- or deadlines.” His expression looked something close to heartbroken, and Tommy didn’t know why. “And I don’t know who told you that it does, Wilbur or Dream or whoever, but they’re wrong.”

“But I fucked up,” Tommy protested weakly. “I could’ve- Sam, I really fucked up.” He broke the rules. Under any other circumstances, it was a punishable offense, and the fact that Sam hardly raised his voice was a kindness Tommy was sure he’d never be used to.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, you did,” he agreed. “And I’m not happy about it, but that doesn’t mean I care less.” He gestured vaguely. “It just… I know you didn’t mean it, Tommy. It’s not good that you did it, but this is just another thing I can help you with. It’s something we can talk to Puffy about.” Crimson eyes stared down at him, warm and sad. “But you have to talk to me. I can’t help if you push me away.”

Tommy swallowed back painful, bitter tears. “I don’t…” He closed his eyes and took a stuttering breath. “I don’t fucking get it, Sam.”

“I know you don’t.” Tommy flinched as warmth wrapped around his frame. Just Sam, he forced himself to remember, it’s just Sam. “But that’s okay. We can work on it. Puffy said recovery isn’t a straight line, remember?” Sam’s embrace was nice, Tommy thought distantly. He had expected to fall, but he hadn’t expected to be caught.

He didn’t deserve this.

Everything that Tommy knew told him that he didn’t deserve this. It was awful for Tommy to even want it. To want comfort or anything resembling safety. Sam deserved safety, deserved it more than Tommy did, but how safe could he be in Tommy’s presence? No one was safe around Tommy. His outburst in L’Manburg proved it.

And yet…

“Okay,” Tommy muttered. He reached up and gripped the back of Sam’s shirt, resting his head against the hybrid’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Sam’s embrace tightened comfortingly, a reassurance. “Okay,” he whispered back. “You’re okay.”

Tommy was a horrible, selfish creature. He was selfish for wanting this, and even more selfish for letting himself indulge in Sam’s kindness, but it was only for this moment. Only for this moment, he told himself, he would let himself believe that Sam meant it.

He would fall again, and maybe next time he’d fall in a way Sam couldn’t catch him. Maybe next time he’d hit the ground before Sam could give him the hope that he was worth being caught. He hoped so, for Sam’s sake. For his own sake, too, because he wasn’t sure how many more times he could trust people to care about him. He didn’t know how many more times he could do this to himself.

For now, though… just for now, he’d let himself be caught.

Notes:

So. how 'bout that, huh? I know Tommy spent the first half of the chapter deflecting like a motherfucker, but he does know what he did was wrong, and he does feel horribly guilty about it, if the last half of the chapter is anything to go by.

Tommy is used to mistakes like this being met with anger and violence, so Sam trying to show him *sympathy* is confusing and he doesn't know how to handle it. Sam hasn't done anything previously to make Tommy think that he'd ever do that, so it seems like an incredibly unfair assumption. But Wilbur had been kind once, so Tommy also has no reason to think that Sam wouldn't change his mind. The fact that Sam doesn't change his mind, the fact that Sam still wants to help, feels like a trap even though it isn't.

WE know it's irrational thinking on Tommy's part, because WE know that Sam is sincere. Tommy doesn't know this, because his brain is very mean to him. To Tommy, this logic is perfectly sound. This is logic that will keep him safe.

Basically, mental illness and trauma goes *brrrrrrrrr* At this point, both Tommy and Tubbo believe they're pretty much beyond saving. Tommy is simply indulging in the comfort while he has it, because he's absolutely certain that there won't be a next time. (there will be a next time, i promise. i'm not done traumatizing these kids yet, there will most definitely be a need for more comfort, and Sam will provide)

Chapter 52: Tired

Notes:

I think this chapter sucks, but I'm too tired to be a good judge of it. It's three in the morning and I haven't slept in, like... a long time.

bbbbbbbb, anyway. Have whatever this bullshit is.

Sam wished he was better at this. For Tommy’s safety and his own sanity, he really wished he was better at this, because it wasn’t fair to Tommy that he couldn’t be a better support system.

It wasn’t fair to himself, either. Puffy had warned him that this was a process, and there was no way he could have been absolutely perfect at this. Nobody could be perfect at this. You could be good at it, a good support system, but never a perfect one. Sam had his issues, he was never going to be a one-hundred percent foolproof diffuser of Tommy’s anxieties.

But Sam didn’t need to be fair to himself. Sam was an adult that could handle himself, and Tommy was a child who needed him.

Tommy was… a lot more traumatized than Sam had originally thought. Or maybe Tommy was more affected by the trauma than Sam thought? Either way, Sam clearly hadn’t helped as much as he thought he did, because Tommy still had symptoms and triggers that Sam didn’t even know about.

Worse, he did know about them, and hadn’t done more to help. He knew Tommy’s memories of exile were a little fuzzier than they should have been, but he never considered that it could be a continuous problem. Because now Tommy barely remembered the festival, only vaguely aware that he’d aimed a weapon in Sam’s direction, and Sam wasn’t sure how angry he was allowed to be if Tommy didn’t mean it.

Sam didn’t know what he was doing. If he did, Tommy wouldn’t be pulling himself apart at the seams.

... he shouldn’t have let Tommy go back to L’Manburg.

As much as he wanted to give Tommy the freedom to make his own decisions, he never should have let it happen. He should have made some bullshit excuse, offered to take Tommy on a mining trip or something. Tommy wasn’t incapable, far from it, but he was a child.

If Sam wanted to adopt Tommy, which he did, that meant he had to say no. If Tommy didn’t know his limits, it was Sam’s job to help him until they figured it out. The goal was to keep Tommy away from the wars. Away from the conflicts. If Tommy couldn’t stand up for himself, then Sam would do it for him.

And it was impossible to be unaware of how much that sounded like parenting. It wasn’t parenting, exactly, but it was the closest Sam could get without actually adopting Tommy. Which he couldn’t, yet, not with everything that had just happened, but he would.

He would.

Soon.

Which was exactly what he said last time.

The sound of shuffling footsteps jolted him from his thoughts. He glanced up from the trident he was enchanting to see Tommy standing in the doorway of his workshop. Admittedly, he probably shouldn’t have been working as late as he was, or… as early as he was. It was close to four in the morning and he definitely hadn’t slept the night before.

“Hey, Tommy,” Sam said. “You’re up early. Everything okay?” Tommy stared at him for a moment, then glanced around the room. He looked a little out of it. “Bad dream?” Sam asked. “You can hang out in here, if you want.” He stood and dusted off his hands. “Sapnap said he might stop by later, just a heads up. I can tell him not to come if you think today is going to be a bad day, though.”

He waited for Tommy’s response, only to be met with silence. Tommy stared past him with dull eyes, looking only vaguely aware that he was even standing.

Sam walked towards him, slowly, just to make sure that he didn’t startle the unfocused teenager in front of him. “Tommy? Is everything okay?” Tommy looked around the room like Sam hadn’t spoken. “Hey,” he tried again, “Tommy, do you need me to-”

And Tommy promptly walked away.

He didn’t so much walk as he did wander, but he most definitely moved away from Sam. “What- Tommy?” Sam followed after him. “Where are you going?” He didn’t really expect an answer, but with Tommy’s off-putting silence, Sam felt the need to fill the void. “Tommy, are you- are you okay?”

This was new. Sam could only assume this was some trauma-related reaction, but most of those were loud. Most of those were angry or violent, which weren’t… great, but at least they were manageable. At least Sam could talk Tommy down, explain what had happened or what hadn’t happened. He could settle Tommy’s mind if it was running circles around itself, but he couldn’t settle what wasn’t present.

“Okay,” Sam sighed, following Tommy closely as he wandered through the house. “Guess we’re doing this until you’re back.” Tommy was ignoring Sam, for whatever reason, or was just too out of it to realize that Sam was talking to him, but he didn’t seem to mind Sam following him, so Sam just kept doing that.

Whatever was happening seemed harmless enough, and Sam was too tired to argue.

Tommy stepped into the living room and paused. “What’s up?” Sam asked. “You wanna see Fran or something?” Tommy muttered something unintelligible under his breath. “You wanna go back to bed? I think you probably should.”

Sam sighed as Tommy walked away again. Having Tommy around was certainly never boring, even when he was quiet. He was almost tempted to let Tommy do whatever he was doing and go to bed, maybe get answers when he was less tired.

Then Tommy started for the front door.

“Whoa, hey!” Sam darted forward. “Tommy, what are you doing? It’s still dark outside, there’s mobs everywhere.”

Tommy pressed a hand against the door and frowned. “I want to go home.”

Sam hesitated. That was definitely… new. In the beginning, Tommy certainly hadn’t considered Sam’s house home. It was a building that Sam owned with a room that Sam let him stay in. But that had been so long ago, and Tommy had definitely been calling Sam’s house ‘home’ for at least a couple of weeks. “What-”

“Home,” Tommy repeated, barely a whisper. “It’s this way. I want-” He scowled and shoved his whole weight against the door. “I want to go home.”

Why Tommy didn’t just press the button to open the door, Sam didn’t know. And, quite frankly, he really didn’t care. If the only thing keeping a strangely out of it teenager from running off in the middle of the night was a button he couldn’t find, then Sam didn’t want to give him the time to find it.

Placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, Sam gently guided him away from the door. “I really think you should go lay back down, Tommy.” Sam wasn’t even going to attempt to get Tommy all the way back to his room, instead leading him to the couch. “Yep, there we go.”

Tommy sat down on the couch, still mumbling incoherently about going home. Sam pulled the blanket he kept on the back of the couch and draped it over Tommy. The teenager startled at the weight, then gripped the fabric reflexively. “Thank you, Dream.” he murmured robotically.

Sam sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that- I’m not Dream.” So, maybe… Tommy hadn’t been intentionally ignoring Sam. But this didn’t seem like Tommy’s typical dissociation, trembling and panicking and muttering breathless apologies. This seemed less focused, somehow, more distant. It wasn’t outright panic, though, so Sam took the victories wherever he could find them.

“Can I go?” Tommy asked quietly. “I wanna-” He started to stand again. “I wanna go see the Christmas tree.”

“Uh-” Sam placed his hands on Tommy’s shoulders and gently pushed him back. “Tomorrow,” he said quickly. “We can go see the Christmas tree tomorrow.” Tommy relaxed into the couch slightly. “So… that means you have to sleep now, okay? Then we can go see the Christmas tree.”

Tommy, his eyes still blank and his face expressionless, immediately moved to lay down and tuck himself under the blanket Sam gave him. Sam waited until his eyes were closed and his form was still for a few minutes before allowing himself to look away.

With a sigh, Sam moved to sit on the floor, leaning back against the front of the couch. “What am I going to do with you, kid?” The sound of claws on floor caught Sam’s attention as Fran emerged from the hallway. “You’re a little late to the party, girl.” Fran yawned in response and flopped on the ground next to him. “Yeah,” he said tiredly, “I’m pretty sleepy myself. Been a weird couple of days.”

He did still have Sapnap arriving in the morning, and he was nowhere even close to prepared. The house was in decent enough shape, he supposed, but he hadn’t seen Sapnap in a while, much less held a conversation. And he didn’t know where Sapnap stood with Tommy at all.

Sam tilted his head back against the couch and closed his eyes, giving himself a moment to rest before he got up and actually went to bed. He still needed to clean up the workshop a little before he slept. He was only going to close his eyes for a second.

And he opened his eyes to the sound of knocking and an aching neck.

Like most things Sam had planned lately, he wasn’t doing great on following through.

Fran barked, prompting Sam to groan and stand up. “Fran, shush. You’re gonna wake up Tommy.” As if on cue, the teenager behind him stirred. “Fran, it’s just Sapnap.”

“Sam?” a muffled voice called through the door. “Sam, you up?”

Sam grumbled, ignoring the crick in his neck. “Coming, coming.” He pressed the button to open the door, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as it slowly lowered. “Hey, Sapnap.”

Sapnap grinned. “Hey, dude.” He stepped into the house and gave Fran a friendly pat. “You look tired. Been sleeping enough?”

“Sort of,” Sam admitted, “I had a… weird night.” He gestured to Tommy still asleep on the couch. “Big man over there decided he wanted to take a walk at four in the morning.”

“Tommy?” Sapnap glanced over at the sleeping teenager. “What, like… he couldn’t sleep or something?”

Sam shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. He was saying something about going home and seeing a Christmas tree.” 

Sapnap burst into laughter. “Dude, was he sleepwalking?” And that… made a lot more sense than anything that Sam had come up with. In Sam’s defense, though, he was tired. “George does it sometimes,” Sapnap continued, “when he’s, like, stressed the fuck out. Doesn’t happen often, but it’s… interesting.”

“Didn’t happen when you guys lived here, did it?” Sam asked worriedly, wondering how he could have possibly have missed something like that.

“Nah,” Sapnap waved him off. “Wasn’t until the wars and shit. Fucks with people, you know? Even George.” His gaze lingered on Tommy again. “Speaking of war and how badly it fucks with people…” He gave Sam a questioning look. “What’s with the sudden interest in Tommy?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “It’s not sudden. I’ve been trying to help Tommy since Pogtopia.”

“The first exile, right.” Sapnap scratched the back of his head. “That’s kinda why I wanted to visit, actually. Exile. Not the one in Pogtopia, the… recent one.”

“Talk in the kitchen,” Sam said. “I’m gonna get breakfast made before Tommy wakes up.”

Sapnap cackled as they walked to the kitchen. “You making the kid breakfast, Sam?” He took a seat at the table and watched Sam pull out the ingredients for pancakes. “Just adopt the kid, man. Everyone knows you want to.”

Instead of justifying that with an answer, Sam worked on making pancakes. “I thought you had something you wanted to ask.”

“Right, uh- exile.” Sapnap’s tone faltered. “I visited once, and I wasn’t really sure what was going on.” He scratched the back of his neck idly. “Quackity mentioned something the other day, though. It wasn’t- something about Dream getting away with some shit he shouldn’t have.”

Sam hummed, mixing pancake batter in a bowl to distract himself from the sheer rage that came with hearing Dream’s name. “Definitely wasn’t great,” he said. “Not sure how much you know or how much you want to know, but there’s some things I’m not saying.”

“Sure,” Sapnap said agreeably. “Privacy and shit, I get it.” He cleared his throat. “But, you know… what can you tell me? Quackity said it was bad, and I feel like I should know what my ‘best friend’ has been getting up to.”

“Well, Tommy was exiled on bullshit charges, first of all,” Sam started, heating up a pan on the stove. “He never even burned down George’s house. Dream lied.” Sapnap winced. “He’d visit Tommy almost every day and destroy anything he might have made. Threatened to kill him if he didn’t comply. He’s got scars from it.”

An axe, Sam remembered Tommy saying. Dream had hit Tommy with an axe, enough to injure, but not quite enough to kill. And Tommy had said so offhandedly, like it was normal and not anything to worry about. It’d taken so long for Sam to convince him that he hadn’t deserved it.

“Damn,” Sapnap muttered. “I didn’t really… I didn’t notice.” He hesitated for a moment. “You know, Tommy- he really isn’t that bad of a kid.”

“I know,” Sam said shortly.

“No, I mean-” Sapnap sighed. “Like, I was Dream’s best friend, and not even I understood what his problem with Tommy was.” He waved a hand flippantly. “It was kind of about Wilbur, at first, because L’Manburg was his idea. And Tommy was just, like, his dumb kid brother that followed him around.”

Sam poured a spoonful of batter onto the warm skillet. “What changed?”

Sapnap shrugged. “Everything except Tommy. Everyone else gave in to whatever Dream wanted without arguing. He even got Wilbur under control, until the crazy bastard killed himself. Tommy was the only one he couldn’t get to do what he wanted.”

“And that made him a problem?” Sam asked, flipping the pancake in the skillet. “Being a typical, stubborn teenager?”

“For Dream, I guess,” Sapnap replied. “I mean, nobody else gave a shit about Tommy being Tommy, he’s just a kid. Dream always said he hated Tommy because of the crimes or the stealing, but it’s all bullshit. George and I were burning down Ponk’s lemon tree before that drug van was even a thing.”

Sam scowled. “So he’s a control freak,” he muttered, flipping the cooked pancake out of the skillet and onto a plate.

“Basically,” Sapnap agreed. “But we kinda- we knew that, right? We knew.” They did. And that was probably the worst part. “So… Dream was really, like, destroying Tommy’s things? Every day?”

“Blew them up with TNT,” Sam confirmed. “He wouldn’t let Tommy have a farm or anything. Ant gave him a mushroom cow, and Dream killed it, just because he knew Tommy couldn’t stop him.”

Sapnap snorted. “Kinda thought that pet killing was my thing.”

“Well, he didn’t stop at Tommy’s pet,” Sam said. “Have you heard from Mexican Dream, lately?” Sapnap’s lack of response told Sam everything he needed to know. “Yeah. He visited Tommy, built a house there to stay with him and even tried to keep Dream away, but-”

“Dream didn’t kill him,” Sapnap said quickly. “I mean, right? He wouldn’t…” He let his elbows rest on the table and buried his face in his hands. “No, he would. He fucking would, that sick son of a-” A frustrated sigh escaped him. “Guess I gotta round up all the guys from El Rapids and tell them.”

Sam pulled another pancake out of the skillet. “I’m sorry,” he said genuinely.

“S’fine.” Sapnap let his hands fall away from his face. “I mean, it’s not fine, but… I don’t know. That’s so fucked up.” He gestured limply. “Like, it’s fucked up that hes willing to kill anyone, but killing someone just for trying to visit a lonely kid? No wonder Tommy never fucking reached out, Dream killed the only person that tried to help him.”

And Sam still remembered the day that Dream had come hunting for Tommy, the way Tommy had curled in on himself and pleaded with Sam not to help or care because Dream might consider it a crime worthy of death. He killed the last person who tried!

“And it’s only going to get worse, you know,” Sapnap continued. “After that shit L’Manburg pulled at the festival, Dream is seriously pissed. I’m pretty sure he’s teaming up with Techno and Phil to-”

“Sam?” a groggy voice interrupted. Sam’s gaze snapped to the entrance of the kitchen to see a very sleepy Tommy scrubbing at his eyes. “Who the fuck is here?”

Sapnap waved. “Hey, dude. Just me.” He grinned. "You in a hurry to see your Christmas tree or something?"

Tommy squinted at him blearily, not appearing to register anything about the Christmas tree comment. “Fucknap?”

“Fucknap?” the blaze hybrid asked incredulously. “Dude, fuck you! That is the worst nickname.”

“Shouldn’t have been a cop, then,” Tommy muttered, dropping into the seat across from Sapnap. “Sam, you’ve let a cop into our home. How could you?”

Sapnap spluttered. “I am not a cop.” He looked

Sam took the two pancakes he had cooked and set them in front of Tommy. “I’m pretty sure you’re both war criminals. Does it really matter if he used to be a cop?”

“I wasn’t a cop!” Sapnap protested louder.

Tommy poured a less than generous amount of syrup on his pancakes. Sam knew he might not even finish the two pancakes in front of him, but he was glad that Tommy had started eating somewhat regularly, even if he sometimes had to take it easier with rich foods or things with too much sugar. “Sounds like you’re in denial,” he told Sapnap. “Its okay to be in denial, Fucknap, everyone goes through it.”

“But I wasn’t a fucking cop!”

“And Dream’s not a control freak,” Tommy muttered, poking idly at the pancakes with his fork. “I guess we’re all in denial.”

Sapnap hesitated, his gaze flicking to Sam for a moment. “You, uh… heard that, huh?”

“Only the last bit.” Tommy shoved a piece of pancake in his mouth. “Fuck you for talking about me behind my back, by the way.”

Sam ruffled Tommy’s hair. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth.” Tommy grumbled in response, but closed his mouth. “And we weren’t trying to talk about you behind your back. Sapnap just had some questions.”

Tommy shrugged. “S’whatever,” he said, jabbing at another piece of pancake.

But it wasn’t whatever, and Sam could see it. Something in the way Tommy stabbed his fork into each pancake piece with just a little too much force. There was a quiet anger in his furrowed brow, a determination that Sam couldn't put a name to.

Then again, he’d probably have to be a child soldier to understand Tommy, he’d have to live through war and exile, and that was an experience he’d never grasp. Tommy was planning something between light-hearted banter with Sapnap, and Sam had a bad feeling he knew what it was.

Dream was teaming up with Techno and Phil, that was the last thing Sapnap had said before Tommy had walked in. Tommy had undoubtedly heard it, and probably knew exactly what that meant for L’Manburg, and Sam…

It wasn’t like Sam could lock the doors and stop Tommy from leaving. Because Tommy would leave, if he knew that L’Manburg–his friends–could even potentially be in danger. It didn’t matter that he’d just fought with Tubbo, just as it hadn’t mattered that he fought with Wilbur.

And Sam wished, he so desperately wished that he was better at this. If he was, he’d know how to protect Tommy from this–from Dream and L’Manburg and himself. He’d know how to stop Tommy from sleepwalking or fighting or anything. He’d know how to help.

Sam smiled as Tommy launched a forkful of pancake at Sapnap, and he tried to ignore how fake it felt. And he tried to ignore that Tommy could only see the smile in his eyes, anyway, and the smile under his mask certainly wasn’t reaching.

Which made them even, Sam supposed… Tommy’s smile was his mask, and it looked every bit as fake as Sam's felt.

Notes:

This was originally meant to be two separate chapters: one with Tommy's sleepwalking episode and one with Sapnap's visit. But the sleepwalking chapter ended up being stupid short, so you got the sleepwalking and half of Sapnap's visit. The next chapter will have the other half from Tommy's perspective, and also a little insight as to what Tommy is planning.

Sorry if the chapter was too choppy or if the transition was too jarring, I am. very tired. Editing and proofreading are not my strong suits at the moment. Hopefully the next few chapters will be better. We're coming up on Doomsday, and I actually have some semblance of a plan for that :D

Chapter 53: Old Habits

Notes:

Hey, y'all! Not dead, just dumb. Here's some Tommy POV for your souls.

Tommy, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t an idiot. Which sometimes made conversations an irritating thing, because everyone treated him like he was one, and he’d have to explain that he wasn’t one. He wasn’t stupid or a child.

And considering he was already pretty irritable, having a conversation with Sapnap, of all people, wasn’t helping his mood much.

Not that Sapnap was one of the people that ever treated Tommy like an idiot. Or, at the very least, he’d never say it to Tommy’s face, he had just… fought on the same side of the people who did.

And it made Sapnap a little difficult to talk to, in the way it sometimes made Tubbo hard to talk to. Sapnap wasn’t unkind, exactly, but there was something about the way he held the conversation, like he was tiptoeing around something he thought Tommy wouldn’t understand.

So, maybe Sapnap did think Tommy was an idiot. Maybe that was why they had never been on the same side. Though, there were people on Tommy’s side that had treated him like an idiot, too, like a stupid child. So he supposed it didn’t really matter, in the end.

Sapnap said that Dream was bringing war to L’Manburg. He and Sam danced around the topic now that Tommy was in the room, but he had heard it. Maybe they thought that he’d be less inclined to do anything about it if they didn’t bring it up again. Maybe they thought he’d be less inclined to help.

And he did want to help L’Manburg. He shouldn’t want to, and he knew that, but… god damn it all, he did.

Maybe he was stupid and naive, too trusting and too loyal for his own good. But he didn’t think people were undeserving of his trust or loyalty because of a mistake. He’d made plenty of mistakes, and it’d driven people  away, it’d left him alone. And he wasn’t cruel enough to wish that crippling loneliness on anyone, whether they’d hurt him or not.

“So,” Sapnap said, and Tommy forced himself to pay attention to the conversation again, “How’ve you been, dude? We haven’t talked since- I mean, it feels like forever.”

“We haven’t talked since exile,” Tommy muttered, stabbing at the pancakes Sam had made him. “You can just fucking say it, you know. We haven’t talked since exile. I don’t give a shit.”

Sapnap raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, man, it’s chill. I just- I didn’t really wanna bring it up.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, taking another bite of pancake, cringing at the cardboard taste. A shame, really. He’d only just started to tolerate food again. “I mean, I don’t want to have a whole fucking conversation about it, but you can say the word.”

“Be nice, Tommy,” Sam called from the stove, flipping another pancake. “He’s just trying to be considerate.”

“I don’t need his-” he huffed and glared at Sapnap. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

Sam spared him a glance. “Concern and pity aren’t the same thing, Tommy. He’s trying to avoid a sensitive topic.”

“Whatever.” Tommy tapped his fork against the table, his leg bouncing under the table. He knew Sam was trying to guide him through Puffys exercises, trying to help him listen better without lashing out, but he wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t in the mood to be eating breakfast or sitting at the table or having any conversation, much less this one. 

He was a ticking time bomb, and he could feel the buzzing under his skin. It was a countdown to the next time he broke, and he was certain there weren’t many numbers left to count.

Sapnap cleared his throat. “I know Dream is- he’s a total asshole, man. And, like, I kind of knew that? I mean, we all did, but… I didn’t realize it was that bad, you know?”

“Nobody did,” Tommy muttered. “Not your fucking fault, just… I don’t know. I don’t fucking know anything, apparently.” He tugged at his hair with his free hand. “You weren’t the only one, is what I’m trying to say. You weren’t the only dickhead that stopped visiting after a couple of weeks.”

It wasn’t like Sapnap was obligated to visit him, anyway. They weren’t exactly friends, Sapnap didn’t owe Tommy anything. If he was mad at Sapnap, he’d have to be absolutely furious with the people who actually called him a friend.

He’d have to be angry at Tubbo and Quackity, and, quite frankly, Tommy wasn’t sure if he had that much anger left to go around. He could barely bring himself to be angry at Wilbur or Dream.

Well… he could probably bring himself to be angry at Dream. Especially if he was going to attack his friends’ home. And it really was just his friends’ home. He wasn’t sure when he stopped thinking about L’Manburg as home, It just… simply ceased to be something he recognized. That didn’t mean he wanted it destroyed, though. Unlike Wilbur, who destroyed anything that became unfamiliar, his country and himself included.

That was a comfort, he supposed. He could still find little redeeming qualities about himself, if he really looked hard enough. Even if it was only that he hadn’t quite become the bad guy that Wilbur was. It was setting the bar pretty low, but he’d take what he could get.

Sam sat down at the table, giving Tommy’s half-eaten breakfast a worried glance. He didn’t say anything, to his credit, but Tommy could feel the concern coming off the hybrid in waves. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, and it sounded like he already knew the answer.

“Of course I am,” Tommy said, raising an eyebrow at Sam. “I’m the poggest man to ever exist, I am too big and awesome to be bothered by things. What could possibly be wrong?”

“Tommy,” Sam said firmly.

“Sam,” Tommy replied stubbornly.

“Sapnap,” Sapnap chimed in. “Now, am I allowed to have pancakes, or…?”

Sam, without looking away from Tommy, gestured to the stove. “You’re a big boy. Make your own pancakes.” Sapnap grumbled and pulled an apple from his inventory instead. “Tommy,” he redirected. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong, Sam.” He pushed himself away from the table. “I’m- I’m fine, really.” He knew the hybrid was only trying to help, and it only made the guilt in Tommy’s chest sit heavier. Someone like Tommy didn’t deserve help from someone like Sam. “Think I’m finished with breakfast.”

He’d done little more than tear the two pancakes on his plate into pieces, maybe taken three or four bites, but Sam just nodded. The creeper hybrid was weirdly, quietly accepting of that sort of thing. Weirdly, quietly accepting of just… Tommy, in general.

“So…” Sapnap drawled as Tommy put his plate away. “How’s living with the hermit?” Sam made a warning sort of noise. “It’s kinda weird popping by L’Manburg nowadays and not seeing you there.”

“How is that weird?” Tommy asked, dumping his mutilated pancakes into the trash bin. “I think I’ve spent more time exiled from L’Manburg than actually living in it.” He scowled. “Should be pretty fucking normal to stop by L’Manburg and not see me.”

Sapnap hesitated. “Yeah, but… you know, it’s just- it’s not really L’Manburg without you.” He laughed. “I mean, there probably wouldn’t even be a L’Manburg if it wasn’t for you.”

Tommy scoffed. “Shut up, man.” He was so tired of that. People pinning L’Manburg on him. “L’Manburg was Wilbur’s idea. Not mine.” Why did people hate him so much for Wilbur’s country? Tommy didn’t even care about the politics or the power, or the illusion of control, he just wanted somewhere for his friends to call home.

Wilbur had promised L’Manburg would be something great.

Sam snorted. “I mean, it’s not like Wilbur did much to keep the country running.” Tommy gave him a confused look. “L’Manburg may have been Wilbur’s idea, but you kept it standing, Tommy.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap agreed. “It’s kinda why Dream hates you, actually.”

Tommy tried very hard to set his plate in the sink in a very normal way, ignoring the urge to slam it down. Or maybe frisbee it into Sapnap’s face. That probably would have been funnier. “Oh, by all means,” he said bitterly. “Please, list out all the reasons Dream hates me.”

“Well, you’re stubborn,” Sapnap said, either unaware of or blatantly ignoring Tommy’s bitterness. “Which is, like, whatever. He hates Quackity for the same reason.” He waved a hand flippantly. “He called Quackity the biggest threat to the server once.”

“And here I thought I was the biggest threat to the server,” Tommy muttered, leaning against the nearest counter. “They’ll make just anyone public enemy number one these days, eh?”

Sapnap cackled. “Yeah, I guess so.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I think he also hates you guys because, like… you call him out on his shit, you know? Like, when he took George’s kingship away-”

Sam sat up. “I totally forgot about that. What was that whole situation about?”

“See, that’s the thing!” Sapnap exclaimed. “Dream wouldn’t fucking stick to a story, right? And Quackity called him on it. He said he took George’s kingship because he was pissed off about El Rapids, and then he said being king made George a target to get attacked, so taking it away would keep him safe.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Like keeping me in Logstedshire kept me safe.” He crossed his arms over his chest, digging his nails into his upper arm. “Puts him in a good light if he makes it sound like he’s helping you. Fucking- that prick.”

"And then," Sapnap said, "he claimed that he gave the kingship back to Eret because they're neutral. And, apparently, George wasn't neutral, since he was part of El Rapids."

"Well, that's dumb," Tommy said. "George hadn't done jackshit since I joined this server. He's probably the most neutral guy here." He frowned. "And Eret is allied with L'Manburg. Not, like, on paper or anything, not officially, but she's made it pretty clear that we can rely on her for help."

"Also," Sam chimed in, "I don't really see why it's his business. As long as there's not another war breaking out, what's the harm? It sounds like El Rapids had nothing to do with Dream at all, so why get involved?"

Sapnap nodded. “Yeah, that's kind of what Big Q said.” He let his chin rest on his hand. “He said that Dream was basically getting involved with everyone’s politics and then making excuses for it. And if he wasn’t making excuses, then he was just…” He paused for a moment, turning to Tommy. “Well, he was blaming you.”

To Tommy’s surprise, Sam’s bitterness escaped before his. “Of course he was,” the hybrid muttered.

“We all thought it was weird," Sapnap said. “But Quackity was really the only one who said anything about it.  Pointed out that Dream blamed you for the walls, even though he built them. He involved himself in politics that had nothing to do with him. And, you know, Dream hates being called out on his shit, so he’s not exactly Quackity’s biggest fan.” He gestured to Tommy. “And you’re kinda the same way. You’ll call him out.”

Tommy shrugged. “Freedom of speech, man. Dream can talk shit all he wants, but if I think he’s a dickhead, then I’m gonna say so.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I think more people should call him out, actually. Make, uh… a Twitter post. Cancel that bitch.”

“What does this have to do with Dream hating Tommy?” Sam asked. “I don’t see Dream chasing Quackity down the way he did to Tommy.”

“Oh, right,” Sapnap said, shaking his head slightly. “Sorry. Gettin’ sidetracked.” He folded his arms on top of the table. “Anyway, it’s not that Tommy is actually any worse than Quackity. He’s-” He glanced over at Tommy. “Honestly, man, you’re not even worse than me.”

And Tommy, as much as he hated when everyone pinned their shit on him, didn’t quite know how to respond to that, either. “Whatever,” he mumbled. Because, really, what the fuck was he supposed to do with that? He wasn’t as bad as Quackity? Sapnap? He wasn’t as bad as Wilbur or Techno, and so what? Apparently, he didn’t have to be worse to earn Dream’s hatred. He just had to be.

“You kind of symbolize… I don’t know. Rebellion. I guess?” Sapnap continued. “Like, his problem was with Wilbur, at first. Fucking hated that guy, because… like you said, L’Manburg was Wilbur’s idea. He built the country out of spite and Dream wasn’t happy about it.”

Tommy sighed. “But…?”

“But,” Sapnap said. “L’Manburg would have been history in two weeks if it wasn’t for you. I mean, the duel, your discs, the… everything about you, man.”

And that… as much as Tommy hated it, that made sense. Could Wilbur have kept L'Manburg standing? By himself? If Tommy had decided not to participate in Wilbur's revolution, would the country have even made to its independence day?

Tommy didn't want to admit it, but he really didn't think so.

Wilbur was never much of a fighter, not even during war would he fight with more than a words. He wouldn't even wear armor for protection, much less carry a sword, no matter how Tommy insisted that he should.

Not that Wilbur ever needed to fight, anyway. Not when he had Tommy around to duel and argue and fight for him.

And the worst was that part of him already knew this. He knew that Wilbur had relied on him, used him, but that- he hadn't minded. He wanted to do it, until… until he didn't.

But by then, after fighting for Wilbur, his friends, his country- fighting was all Tommy knew how to do. The only thing he did well enough to be useful and needed and wanted.

“I don’t think it’s a bad thing, really, " Sapnap continued. "You did what you had to do, or- like, what you thought you had to do, you know, for your friends. Even though I was on the other side of the war, I can admit that it's kind of admirable.”

The smallest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Tommy's mouth. “Of course, it is. Everything I do is admirable. I should be admired by everyone, as I am the biggest man on the server.”

Sam laughed. “The biggest and poggest.”

“See?” Tommy said. “Sam gets it.” He raised an eyebrow at Sapnap. “So… what? Dream is intimidated by me because I'm the only one in L'Manburg who could do their fucking job? Keep the country standing?”

Sapnap blinked. “I mean… yeah, actually. That’s kind of exactly it.”

Tommy frowned. “Wait, really?”

“Kind of,” Sapnap repeated. “I mean, Dream- Dream has it in his head that El Rapids wouldn’t have happened if L’Manburg hadn’t been successful. He let one country slide, suddenly there’s the Badlands and El Rapids and-” He cut himself off for a moment. “Just… people building things, you know. Nations, territories, kingdoms, whatever.”

“Because L’Manburg was successful,” Tommy parroted. “Dream thinks you were influenced by L'Manburg? By me?"

Sapnap shrugged. “Something like that, I guess.” He leaned back in his chair. “Which is kinda stupid, honestly. We probably would have built El Rapids with or without L’Manburg. It was just fun, you know? It’s cool to have a place, just you and your friends, knowing you built it yourselves. It’s nice.”

Something in Tommy’s chest tightened. “Yeah,” he said quietly, trying not to remember L’Manburg engulfed in flames, “I know.” And he’d lose it again. He was going to lose L’Manburg again.

He didn’t even fucking live in L’Manburg anymore.

It wasn’t his to live in, and it certainly wasn’t his to call home, but it was Tubbo’s and it was Ranboo’s. It was Wilbur’s, and Tommy was nothing but obedient to his commander in chief.

So, despite all the ways it wasn't, L'Manburg was still his. In a sense. His to protect, if only for his friends' sake. His to keep standing, according to Sapnap.

Tommy had to wonder, distantly, if Dream knew that, too. That L'Manburg was his country, even when it wasn't his home. That it would collapse without him there to fight for it. And maybe that was reason enough to torment him in exile.

Because no one cared about George's house and the miniscule damage Tommy had done to it. Everyone stole, and everyone griefed, and everyone else's crimes were the same as Tommy's and even worse.

It was never about that, though.

Apparently, Tommy's real crime, as far as Dream was concerned, was being just a bit too stubborn and far too loyal. He wasn't as evil as Dream made him out to be, the child who supposedly caused all the problems on the server, he was just the easiest to blame.

He caused some problems, persisted when maybe he should have left it alone, created conflict on occasion, and so what? Had Dream conveniently forgotten that Bad and his lot created the Badlands specifically to cause conflict? To prolong wars? Where was the hatred for their country? Where was Bad's endless trauma and unwarranted blame?

Tommy sighed, pushing away from the counter. It wasn't worth the effort to ask questions. It wasn't like he'd get answers, anyway. At least, he wouldn't get any answers that he liked. Because the truth, plain and simple, was that it was just too complicated.

Dream viewed Tommy as a threat. That was the truth. But what was he a threat to? Peace? Something he wanted from the fucking start? And what even made him a threat? Being a good, loyal brother to Wilbur? Being someone who didn’t bend so easily? Being the one person on the server to say what everyone was thinking?

As an admin, as the owner of the server, Dream was nothing more than a tyrannical bastard, and everyone knew it. It didn’t matter that everyone else knew it, though. It didn't matter that everyone thought it, just that Tommy would say it out loud. It mattered that Tommy was brave or stupid or stubborn or naive or whatever, and that meant people could blame him. And he let them.

“I’m gonna go hang out in the workshop for a little bit,” he told Sam.

“Got something you want to build?” Sam asked, and his tone was all too knowing.

Tommy shrugged. "Whatever comes to mind, I guess." Weapons, armor, and maybe he'd brew a potion or two or five. "Just need to keep my hands busy for a while, you know? All this sitting around and talking is driving me up the fucking wall."

Thoughtful, red eyes stared at him for a moment. Studying him, and not unkindly, but still nerve-wracking in a way that he couldn't explain. And for that brief moment, Tommy was nervous.

Sam didn't get involved in a lot of things on the server. The closest he had come to involved was offering Tommy a safe place to stay. Helping him with a TNT stunt and going mining with Tubbo.

Tommy wanted Sam to stay uninvolved. He didn't want Sam to have a part in this. Any part in this. He didn't want Sam to stop him and he didn't want Sam to follow him. He didn't want Sam to do anything, not after he had already done so, so much. He just wanted-

"Okay," Sam said easily.

He just didn't want Sam to get hurt.

And part of him knew, deep down in his guarded heart he knew, that Sam didn't want him to get hurt, either. He knew that this wasn't fair to either of them, leaving to fight another war, but he needed to.

He would come back. Or maybe he wouldn't. He would try to, anyway, he hoped he would come back. But he had to fight for L'Manburg, the country that was his in all the ways that it wasn't, because his friends needed him to.

Tommy was less than worthless if not useful, and fighting was the only thing he knew. He was nothing if he wasn't someone's asset, someone's loyal soldier or brother or friend. Wilbur didn't need him if he wasn't willing to fight. Dream didn't need him if he wasn't willing to comply. Schlatt sent him away and so did Tubbo, and maybe it was unfair to compare the two, but at the core of both of their decisions, it was because Tommy was destructive. Potentially destructive.

Even though the server beat destruction into Tommy's being, he simply was not needed nor wanted by people if he could no longer fight for them. But this? This was a fucking fight, and that meant that he could be useful again. He could be whatever people needed him to be, and it could be anything: a soldier, a traitor, a hero, a villain, a martyr, a victim- he didn't care. So long as he was part of something, helping someone, he would take any label they gave him.

The only exception to all of that, of course, was Sam. Sam, who had never asked Tommy for a damn thing, never saddled him with any responsibility outside of caring for himself. The bare fucking minimum was all Sam had asked. To stay safe. To not put himself in the middle of conflict. To stay out of anything that could get him hurt, or even killed. It really was so very little that Sam had asked, a nd Tommy still couldn't do that for him.

And aiding L'Manburg in this fight could very well result in his death. A permanent one. Not because the war itself would take his third canon life, he was far too used to withers and TNT for that, but Dream would be furious. Dream already hated him, he couldn't imagine how angry the admin would be at his involvement.

Tommy hoped that he didn't have to choose between living for Sam or dying for his friends, but if it came down to it… Well, it wasn’t exactly a secret what he would choose. Tommy knew. Everyone knew. Because he always made the same stupid fucking choice every single fucking time.

He would fight for a country that abandoned him. Even if, even when, it got him killed. Because he didn't know what else to do. He didn't know what else to be.

Maybe, Tommy mused on his way to the workshop, patting Fran's head idly as he passed her, that really did make him an idiot.

Notes:

Gonna be real here, y'all... I have no concept of time. I'm so sorry this chapter took so long, I kinda got distracted with another writing project. Will this project ever see the light of day? Eh, maybe, but not in the immediate future, because I'm gonna try and get better about updating this one, lmao.

Anyhoo, Tommy is one-hundred percent gearing up to go fight, partly because of what Sapnap and Sam were saying. Tommy was already kind of on the fence, like he wanted to go help but wasn't sure, but all that stuff about L'Manburg being his kinda... hit home. They were in no way trying to *encourage* Tommy to go fight, but they kind of did. accidentally. oops. Now, is Tommy going to get to L'Manburg in time to actually help with anything? Nah, not really. Is it going to important that he shows up? Yes, absolutely it is.

Also! In case it wasn't obvious, I love Sapnap. I'm kinda tempted to do another Sapnap chapter. Or a Quackity chapter. Honestly, I'm not actually sure whose POV I'm gonna do next. Maybe Techno. If I do another filler-ish chapter, I'll probably do Sapnap or Quackity, but if I go right back into plot after, it's gonna be Techno (or Phil, but probably Techno because i like writing Chat). Y'all pick, I guess.

Chapter 54: Domino Effect

Notes:

C!SAPNAP THE FUCKING BELOVED

Y'ALL WANT SOME C!SAPNAP ANGST??

Sapnap remembered when Tommy first joined the server. The chaos that had ensued was- well, it was new, but it was fun. The chaos had always been fun, even before Tommy had joined, and there was plenty of it. Tommy's chaos was mostly harmless, if a little annoying, and it certainly wasn't any worse than their own brands of chaos.

He couldn't really remember when the chaos became something not fun. Or when it became something dangerous, destroying homes instead of getting into friendly fights. But he was certain it had nothing to do with Tommy himself.

Tommy, despite his abrasiveness, was kind in the way that most kids were, the ‘always ready to help’ kind of way. When Sapnap had burned down Ponk’s second Lemon Tree, George having destroyed the first, Ponk and Alyssa had retaliated. And when Sapnap needed help, none other than Tommy Innit was the one who came.

The fight was petty, really, the whole thing was. Petty and mostly fun. It was a fight between friends, and it wasn’t supposed to be more than that.

And then Dream had shown up.

Sapnap and Tommy had started fighting Dream, and they were winning. It was still just fun, and it was even more fun to have Dream in on it. Admittedly, it was also kind of funny to absolutely wipe the floor with Dream. Tommy was a good fighter, even before the wars, and he and Sapnap together definitely caught Dream off guard.

It was hilarious. It was fun.

Dream, in retaliation to Sapnap and Tommy’s conflict, stole Tommy’s discs. He threatened to burn them if the conflict didn’t stop. In the end, Tommy had gotten his discs back by giving Dream his netherite chestplate. Not too long after that, Wilbur was building a van, a business in dealing drugs, a nation. When asked to stand down, Wilbur and Tommy had pushed back, and so had their allies.

Sapnap used to wonder why Tommy had stuck with Wilbur for so long and through so much. The guy really was a nutcase right there towards the end, but Sapnap supposed that was just Tommy's nature. Stubborn and loyal.

There was a more pressing issue, though, more important than Sapnap pondering where past feuds began and ended. Tommy was back on a warpath, and not hiding very well. But Sam, the one person who Tommy even remotely trusted, was just sitting at the kitchen table.

“You know he’s gonna go to L’Manburg, right?” Sapnap asked.

Sam hesitated. “He might.”

“And?” Sapnap pressed. “Aren’t you going to stop him?” If anyone could, at this point, it’d probably be Sam. As much as Sapnap was trying to be uninvolved with the present conflict, he felt it’d be just irresponsible to not at least try to stop Tommy. “I don’t know what Dream has planned, but it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“I know,” Sam sighed. “Trust me, I know, but what am I supposed to say?”

Sapnap wished he had a good answer. “I don’t know, just- tell him to stop?”

He knew it sounded stupid as soon as he said it, and the deadpan stare Sam gave him confirmed it. “I would definitely do that,” he said, unamused, “except that would probably make him want to go even more.” He shrugged helplessly. “Teenagers, you know?”

“So ground him or something!” Sapnap protested.

“Ground him?” Sam asked incredulously. “I’m not his-” Sam glanced away, the word father trapped behind his teeth, “and even if I was, it’s not like I could just lock him in his room. He can make his own decisions. I have to at least give him that.”

And, really, Sapnap wasn’t sure why he cared so much. It wasn’t like Sapnap had ever defended Tommy before, and he didn’t know what he felt the need to do it now, but he did. “Even if that decision could get him killed?”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “He’s not… Tommy’s been through war before, he’s not going to get himself killed.”

“You don’t know that,” Sapnap pointed out. “Dream’s killed him during wartime before, what makes you so sure this war is going to be any different?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said weakly, “but I can’t just- I mean, obviously, I could try to keep him here, but how does that make me better than Dream keeping him in Logstedshire? Even if I told him it was for his own protection, it’s not like he’s going to trust me because- because that’s exactly what Dream said.”

“But you would actually be protecting him,” Sapnap insisted. “No one else is going to do it, Sam. Nobody is going to protect him.”

Sam turned his crimson gaze on Sapnap. “Then why don’t you go stop him?” he asked shortly. “Since you feel so strongly about the situation, why don’t you go tell him to stop.”

“Because it won’t mean anything coming from me,” Sapnap said. It’d be too hypocritical coming from me. “Sam, you have something with Tommy. He trusts you. What good is that trust if you don’t actually keep him safe?” He gestured in the general direction of Sam’s workshop. “I guarantee you he’s making a weapon right now. The first time he’s had to make one in weeks.”

“Technically, he brought a crossbow to the festival,” Sam muttered. “And he’s got a trident.”

Sapnap wanted to scream. “I- whatever, Sam. You know what I mean.” He stood up. “You know what? Maybe I will go talk to him, actually.” Did he have any idea what he was going to say? No. But he was sure he could figure out something along the way.

He was engaged to a politician for fuck’s sake, surely he’d picked up some of Quackity’s skill for making shit up on the spot.

Sam leaned back in his chair. “By all means,” he said tiredly, running a hand over his face. “Go ahead.” Sam sounded like already knew Sapnap didn’t know what he was doing. He supposed living with Tommy would make anyone a good judge of when someone was being stubborn.

“I will,” Sapnap said stubbornly, walking in the direction of the workshop. He felt like he was being stubborn for a pretty good reason. He was already aware that his words would probably have no effect, but at least he could say he tried, right?

It mattered that he tried. He didn’t know why it mattered, if he already knew he'd probably fail, but it mattered.

The door to Sam’s workshop was already open, Tommy hovering over the crafting table. His brow was furrowed with concentration, an expression that seemed both completely foriegn and all too familiar on Tommy’s face.

It occurred to Sapnap that he had no idea what he was doing.

“What do you want, bitch?” Tommy asked without looking up, fretting over the finishing touches on a helmet. “I’m busy.”

Sapnap blinked. “I- nothing,” he said quickly, crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him. “What do you want?” he asked. “Bitch,” he tacked on.

The corner of Tommy’s lip quirked, the beginnings of a smile. “I want a netherite helmet.” He held up a finished piece of armor. “And now I want a chestplate,” he said, the helmet disappearing into his inventory. “I had another set that Sam helped me make ages ago, but I have no idea where it went.”

“How do you lose an entire set of armor?” Sapnap asked, leaning against the side of the table.

Tommy shrugged. “Dunno,” he answered honestly. “I wasn’t really keeping track of it, I guess. Didn’t really need it for anything.”

Sapnap hummed. “And, uh… now you do need armor?”

“Yeah?” Tommy asked, sparing Sapnap a glance. “And?”

“And nothing,” Sapnap said. “Just curious.” He cleared his throat. “You know, Sam is- he’s kinda worried about you, man,” he said, trying to keep his tone light.

Tommy glanced back down at his work. “He shouldn’t be,” he said shortly. “I can handle myself in a fight.”

“I didn’t say anything about a fight.”

Steel-blue eyes hardened. “You didn’t need to say it.” He put his chestplate in his inventory and walked to the enchantment table in the corner. “I’ve been through wars before. I can take care of myself.”

“No one is saying you can’t,” Sapnap said, watching Tommy flip through a book on the enchantment table. “I mean, you and I kicked Dream’s ass once.” Tommy snorted. “You remember that? When we were fighting Ponk and Alyssa.”

“I remember,” Tommy said, something like fondness in his voice. Something wistful and nostalgic. Longing, maybe. “That was so fucking long ago, man. Before everything went to shit.”

Sapnap nodded absently. “Yeah."

Tommy pulled a few lapis lazulis to start enchanting the armor in front of him. "That was the first time he ever took my discs, you know," he said absently. "That was kind of the start of everything."

Sapnap froze at the words. The first time. The first time. The small, meaningly, harmless conflict over a tree had been the first time Dream had ever taken Tommy’s discs. It was where the obsession first began.

The conflict that Sapnap had started.

“Well, probably not the start of everything,” Tommy amended. “Maybe not the start of the wars and shit, but-”

“It was the start of the Disc War,” Sapnap interrupted quietly.

Tommy shrugged. “I mean, sure,” he said. “That was definitely the start of Dream being fucking obsessed with my discs, but it wasn’t the start of a war, just… the rivalry, I guess.” Tommy set to work enchanting his armor. “Dream definitely seemed to hate me afterwards.”

And whose fault was that? “Because you were helping me,” Sapnap pointed out. “I just… I didn’t even realize."

Sapnap knew that Dream's animosity was a little unwarranted, but he had also known that Tommy could be a little hostile. He never expected them to be on the same side, but he never understood why they couldn't even agree on just one thing.

But of course Tommy would never agree with Dream. Of course he wouldn't! Why should he? After threatening to destroy his most prized possessions over a fight that Sapnap had started?

The start of everything… had started with Sapnap.

And Dream hadn't done anything to Sapnap, even though Sapnap was the one who started it. Dream didn’t take anything from him, didn't threaten him, almost like Sapnap never had any part in it. But Dream had decided to punish Tommy. To blame Tommy, even though the kid had just been helping Sapnap. With Dream, it was always Tommy. It had always been Tommy, and Sapnap didn’t know why.

"I started this," he whispered, almost to himself. "I started all of this."

The silence that followed stretched between them like the string of a bow, and Sapnap could do nothing but brace for Tommy's arrow. For Tommy to reach the same conclusion he did. That he had caused a good majority of Tommy's suffering, simply because Dream had decided to punish a teenager for Sapnap's conflict.

Tommy sighed, the tiredness twisting Sapnap's stomach, and put his newly enchanted armor in his inventory. "You're so fucking stupid, man."

Sapnap blinked. "What-"

"You didn't start shit." Tommy closed the book. "I mean, you did, but you didn't start whatever the fuck is happening between Dream and me."

Sapnap crossed his arms, nails digging into his forearm anxiously. Angrily. "But if you hadn't helped me-"

"It's not like you fucking forced me to help you," Tommy interrupted. "I'm a big man, Fucknap. The biggest. And very capable of making my own decisions." He shrugged and spared Sapnap half a smile. "Besides, if it hadn't been that fight, it would have been something else."

"But-"

Tommy groaned. "Fucking hell, what do you want? Do you want me to be angry? Would it make you feel better?"

"I don't-"

"Oh, Sapnap," Tommy said dramatically, "it is so incredibly unfair that I got punished for a conflict you started. I'm so very angry that Dream stole my discs because you burned down a tree." He gestured wildly. "I'm- I'm absolutely livid! Shaking with rage, even. I'm irate, you could say."

In spite of the guilt tugging at Sapnap, he couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "Alright! I get it."

"I don't think you do," Tommy said. "You didn't…" He ran a hand through his hair. "Like, obviously, I was pissed off and shit when it happened. I still am, I guess. I'm angry about a lot of things." His brow furrowed. "But I'm not- I was never really angry at you, I was just angry at Dream. It's not like you asked him to take my discs."

"I could have stopped him," Sapnap protested. "I could've said something."

Tommy scoffed. "Look, if I got angry at everyone who could have done something and didn't, I'd have to be angry with a lot of fucking people." He leaned against the enchanting table, mirroring Sapnap's crossed arms. "And if I got angry at everyone who got away with the shit Dream would punish me for, I'd have to be a hell of a lot angrier.

"I start conflicts, and Dream hates me. Bad builds a country made for starting conflicts, and no one bats an eye." Tommy smiled, a bitter tug of his lips. "People grief my house, and no one cares. I accidentally burn a few blocks off George's house, and I get exiled for months." The already barely there smile faded. "And I don't- I just…"

Sapnap hesitated. "You just… what?"

There was a beat of silence. "Can I tell you a secret, Sapnap?" Tommy asked. "And you better swear on your life that you won't tell anyone, or else I'll stab you."

Nodding quickly, Sapnap agreed, "I won't tell. Secret's safe with me, man."

Tommy turned to stare vacantly at the workshop door, as though waiting for someone to come through. Or hoping that no one would. Or maybe he was just trying to look at anything but Sapnap. "I'm so fucking tired of being angry."

If words had weight, Sapnap was sure he could have felt every syllable.

"I'm tired," Tommy continued. “And I know that doesn’t really mean anything, because everyone is tired. Tired of… wars and shit. Tired of not being listened to or not taken seriously. Tired of politics and walls and throwing blame around. Tired of being the president of a country that’s already been destroyed twice.” There was something distant in Tommy’s eyes, something ancient and ruined like the remains of a temple. “We’re all tired of fighting, I think.”

And yet, despite the exhaustion of it all, there was a fire there. Deep in Tommy’s steeled blue eyes, there was a determination that Sapnap had always respected, even if he didn’t always understand it.

Tommy was tired and angry and tired of being angry, and yet, “You’re still going to L’Manburg, though.” It wasn’t a question. Sapnap already knew the answer. “You’re tired of fighting, but you’re going to L’Manburg, anyway.”

“Yeah,” was the reply, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “It’s not like I’m good for anything else.”

“Sam thinks you are,” Sapnap said. “You’re supposed to be staying out of the fights now.”

“Sam doesn’t know when to mind his own fucking business,” Tommy said. “My friends are worth more than my neutrality. If Sam doesn’t understand that, then he needs to fuck off.”

And Sapnap knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk Tommy down from this. He knew that the second he walked into the workshop. “You haven’t made a weapon,” he said, knowing that it was pointless to argue the matter any further. “Gonna need something to defend yourself, if you’re gonna do this.”

Tommy gave him a withering glare. “You think this is my first fucking rodeo?” he asked. “I know I need a weapon.” And just as soon as the glare appeared, it disappeared, disguised by a sly smile. “I’m a thief, remember? I have my ways.” He pushed himself away from the crafting table. “I know a place where I can get soe particularly powerful tools, and the person who has it will absolutely let me get away with it.”

“Sam mentioned you had a trident,” Sapnap remembered. And he hated how conversational it was. How normal it felt to watch a teenager prepare himself for war.

“Yeah, I’ve got a trident,” Tommy said, “but I’m not bringing it.” He scratched the back of his neck absently. “Sam helped me make that trident. I named it. Like, seriously named it, not just… like, a throw away thing.” 

Sapnap sometimes wished he were a weaker man. If he were a weaker man, he’d tell Tommy not to go. He’d say that Tommy couldn’t, if only because he’d be hurting Sam if he did. But none of that would be fair to Tommy, to use Sam against him like that. Sam wouldn’t want anyone to use Tommy against him like that, and he’d never forgive Sapnap for guilting Tommy into a decision.

Sapnap was a strong man, and he hated that he was, because that meant he could watch a child walk into a fight he couldn’t win and watch his fiance do the same. He could watch them throw their lives away without begging them to stay, because he knew he couldn’t convince them not to. Even if he wanted nothing more than to scream and cry at how fucking stupid it was, he couldn’t, because he understood it.

Tommy is a kid, he reminded himself harshly. Quackity asked for the politics and the revenge, but Tommy didn’t.

But Quackity and Tommy wanted people to stay out of their fights, and that included Sapnap, no matter how much he wanted to help. Neither one of them would appreciate him butting in, even if it was a matter of life and death.

He didn’t do anything for Tommy when he should have, in the very beginning, and he no longer had the privilege of doing it now. The only person qualified was Sam, and even he knew that getting Tommy to stay was a lost cause. Tommy was drawn to war the way a moth was drawn to flame.

Clementine, he seemed to remember. Tommy wanted a moth named Clementine. It was a vague memory of… something. He knew it the same way he knew Tubbo liked bees, just information he had heard in passing, or maybe from Quackity.

“Anyway,” Tommy said. “I really do have to go.” He started for the door, hardly sparing Sapnap another glance. “Tell Sam whatever. He probably knows where I’m going, anyway.”

Sapnap nodded curtly. “Stay safe, Tommy. Or as safe as you can be.”

Tommy snorted. “Sure, big man. Whatever you say.” Sapnap couldn’t bear to watch as Tommy walked out the workshop, leaving the door ajar behind him. Sapnap almost wanted to believe it was a sign, an invitation to chase after Tommy and stop him.

But Sapnap knew better. So he did nothing.

He didn’t move so much as an inch until the door creaked open again. And when he looked up, he found Sam standing in the painfully empty doorway of a painfully quiet house.

“Well?” Sam asked, looking just as exhausted as he did when Sapnap left.

Sapnap shook his head. “He said he’s going to go steal some stuff,” he muttered. “Weapons. He said he knew someone who had some and would definitely let him get away with taking whatever. He said you’d probably know where he was going.”

Sam hummed. “He’s probably going to Eret’s,” he said. “I think they still have Techno’s confiscated weapons.”

“You could probably catch up to him,” Sapnap threw out. “He literally just left.”

“I know,” Sam said. “I heard the front door.”

Neither one of them wanted any part of the wars. Sam had always been a pretty neutral party, and Sapnap was so tired of losing friends. L’Manburg wasn’t their fight, and neither of them knew how to compromise their own morals enough to help the teenager walking headfirst into it.

Sapnap swallowed back the bitter taste of resentment–for himself, the server, any of it. All of it. “Are you going to go after him?”

Sam tilted his head. “Are you?”

And neither one of them spoke. There was no need, when they both already knew the answer.

Notes:

Would y'all believe that I had this chapter almost completely written, and then rewrote the whole damn thing?? I made a TikTok recently about the early lore discussed in the chapter, and I decided I was just gonna make that the plot instead. Hopefully it wasn't too boring of a read, I just find it fun to force characters to think about things they usually don't and, with Tommy having learned to communicate a little better, it opens up a lot of conversations with a lot of people.

Also, I really do want to get plot moving here (because I think I'm overdoing it a little with the "character analysis-y" chapters, lmao), so the next chapter will probably be Techno's. BUT. That means we're not going to really see Tommy break into Eret's castle and shit. Consider it "off-screen lore", I guess. Y'all know how Tommy operates. He gets in, steals, maybe leaves a sign or two, and leaves. Typical feral raccoon boi shenanigans.

Anyhoo. I know I definitely want to do another Tubbo chapter and another Dream chapter sometime soon, but we'll see how the Techno chapter goes before I definitively decide on a POV. And hopefully the chapters will be a little less boring from here on (seriously, really sorry about all character building and shit, it's just really fun to write).

Chapter 55: Stolen

Notes:

I hate this chapter, I hate it so much and I can't explain why, and I can't make it better, the only good thing about this chapter is Chat. I want to write actual plot again, something better blow up next chapter or else I'm going to, and that is absolutely just me threatening myself.

Technoblade was not a man who liked to be wrong, so he found it fortunate that he rarely was. Getting put on trial was, admittedly, a bit of a blow to his pride. Especially when, technically speaking, no one had said anything that wasn’t true.

He supposed he could have brought up the fact that Wilbur told him that Pogtopia wouldn’t rebuild the government when they took back L’Manburg, but that could have been just as easily brushed aside as the rest of it. Quackity and Tubbo had told him that they would, after all, and it wasn’t like Tommy had ever kept quiet about it, either.

At the end of the day, everyone had just made the same mistake: trusting Wilbur. That was the conclusion Techno had come to, and it was one he was satisfied with. L’Manburg still wasn’t his favorite place, for obvious reasons, but he could leave well enough alone.

Until he couldn’t.

In hindsight, he really should have known that going to the Green Festival was a bad idea. Eret told him that he couldn’t go to L’Manburg without explicit permission from the cabinet, and not even a week later he was getting an invite to a festival? With his and Tubbo’s history with festivals, Techno figured he would have been the last person to be invited. 

And maybe some part of him did know, but he was just too curious to refuse. He had already been punished for his crimes against L’Manburg, his weapons currently in the possession of Eret. What more could L’Manburg want from him?

They still wanted their execution, apparently.

Admittedly, when Dream had first told him, the first thing that had crossed his mind was revenge. Chat had shrieked with rage at the realization, voices overlapping and calling for blood. To paint the Green Festival red. To destroy everything in sight.

But he still went and investigated, just to make sure. Dream could have been lying, Dream was notorious for that kind of thing. Starting drama and blaming other people. Tommy, for example. Techno really had been hoping that Dream had been lying.

Unfortunately, Dream had been been telling the complete and utter truth. And when Techno found the chest Dream left for him, Tubbo and Quackity following close behind, he was prepared to deliver every ounce of revenge that his Chat called for.

Then… well, he wasn’t really sure what it was. There was something about Tubbo that just seemed off, and distinctly not bloodthirsty or vengeance-y. They had a discussion about the quality of weapon Dream had left for him. It was almost a decent conversation, until they were very rudely interrupted by an assassination attempt.

An assination attempt that Quackity seemed to be leading. He had no doubts that Tubbo had given the order, the official order, anyway, but the winged hybrid definitely led the charge. All things considered, Quackity had put up a decent fight for a politician that didn’t do much physical combat. But he was a bit too wild with his swings, his axe just a bit too unwieldy for his smaller frame.

Chat called for death and they’d gotten it, Quackity’s crimson blood staining his pickaxe. And as he turned to Tubbo, he hesitated. It’d be so easy, and he knew it, because Tubbo was probably still on the ground from that hit to the stomach.

But…

Why did it all feel so familiar? Techno was the one on the stand, not them. Quackity was the one with the threats, L’Manburg was the danger, but the idea of killing Tubbo again just didn’t… sit right. Especially not when he finally turned to stare down a defiant half-blind glare, and the teenager had the audacity to challenge him like he had a leg to stand on. To dare him to land a finishing blow.

So, for the first time that Techno could ever remember, he stopped. And he considered.

What did he gain by killing Tubbo? What satisfaction would he get from killing a very obviously manipulated teenager? Logically, rationally, what did he actually gain?

He wouldn’t gain anything, he realized. Just like he didn’t gain anything by telling Tommy to die like a hero, when Wilbur was the real cause of Techno’s anger. Tommy and Tubbo were government ruled, yes, but they weren’t- the corruption wasn’t their fault. It just wasn’t.

Still, though, L’Manburg couldn’t get away with this assassination attempt, no matter how unsuccessful it’d been. He’d already taken a canon life from the guy who deserved it, but a couple withers couldn’t hurt. Just to get his point across. Like he'd said: L’Manubrg had fought off the withers before, and they could do it again.

As for Dream, Techno wasn’t really sure what the admin was going to do, and he really didn’t care. He’d deliver justice the way he saw fit, and Dream could do the same. Though, given all the TNT and obsidian he’d seen Dream gathering, Techno could only assume that the country of L’Manburg was absolutely not surviving this onslaught.

It’d make for a nice crater, Techno supposed. And maybe they’d actually leave the smoking ruins alone this time.

“Phil,” Techno asked, gearing up to go meet Dream, “you’re sure you don’t want to come?”

Phil shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “This doesn’t really seem like my fight, you know?” He set aside the potion he’d been brewing. “I mean, a few weeks ago, I’d be down to destroy that country just because of Wilbur, but…”

Techno hummed. “Tommy?”

“More or less,” Phil agreed. “It certainly seems like Wilbur destroyed himself, more than the country did.” He frowned. “I still don’t understand why he’d lie to me about any of it, but I suppose that’s what I get for not asking more questions before I gave in to his last wish.”

And, Techno had to admit, it was a pretty accurate statement. Tommy had done far more to keep L’Manburg standing than Wilbur ever did, and he had yet to blow up a country about it. “Wilbur aside,” Techno said, “I still thought you’d want to tag along.”

“What, for you?” Phil chuckled. “I think you can handle yourself just fine.” He turned to face Techno with an easy smile. “Normally, I’d be more inclined to help, but you don’t even seem all that angry, really.”

“I’m more irritated than anything,” Techno admitted. “But I already took a canon life from Quackity, and Tubbo… you know, I don’t really think there’s much I can take from Tubbo without causing a permadeath, so withers it is.”

Boooo, Chat sneered, angry! very mad, Blood for the Blood God!

Phil shrugged. “Yeah, that seems fair.” He waved a hand flippantly. “I’m not the country’s biggest fan, at all. But this definitely sounds like something between you and L’Manburg, so I’ll keep it that way. Me getting involved seems… kind of overkill, you know?”

overkill, L’Manburg deserves a little overkill, Chat seethed, kill, kill, kill-

“You alright, mate?” Phil asked suddenly.

Techo shook himself mentally. “Ah, Chat’s just acting up a little. Blood for the Blood God, you know how it goes.”

His friend’s eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you gonna be okay if you go to L’Manburg?”

“Dream will be there,” Techno said. “And he’ll be causing all sorts of mayhem, I’m sure. Chat will get their fill of destruction.” Dream wasn’t a very forgiving person, after all. Tommy was living proof. “I thought Quackity was dumb to go after me, but going after Dream? The guy definitely has a death wish of some kind.”

“Most people on this server seem to,” Phil commented. “And I suppose they can afford to, with the three lives system.”

Techno made a noise of disagreement. “Not everyone has that luxury anymore. I’m surprised Tubbo is being as bold as he is, only having one life left.”

“Tommy, too,” Phil pointed out. “I think it’s admirable, in a way.”

“In a stupid way.”

“Stupid and brave is a very fine line,” Phil said sagely.

Techno snorted. “Alright, old man, save your words of wisdom.”

Dadza, Chat exclaimed, seemingly in a less hostile mood. Funny how quickly that changed. Old Man Phil, OLDZA, at least thirty-two, old Dadza real?, oldest man to ever exist

“Oi!” Phil protested. “I am not that old.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Techno grabbed his new (and probably favorite) pickaxe. “I guess I’ll be heading out, then. I’ve got to grab some wither skulls before meeting Dream in L’Manburg.”

Phil laughed. “Ah, yes. The famous wither skull collection that absolutely no one knows anything about.”

“In my defense,” Techno said, “I didn’t think I’d ever have to use it.” Though, maybe he’d been too optimistic with that mindset. “The only person I told was…” And he had to pause for a moment, because the only person he told was, “Tommy.”

Gremlin Boy, THE CHILD, Raccoon Innit, Chat said ominously, thief, thief, little soldier, Achilles, raccoon in the basement, the withers, Tommy knows, he knows, HE KNOWS

“You told Tommy?” Phil asked. “Like, you told him, told him?”

“I showed him the cave,” Techno said slowly. “We were just- we were hanging out by the turtle farm, and-”

“You showed him?”

Theseus, Chat chanted, he could steal them, he knows, he knows, and I know he knows, thief, ayyyy tiktok trends, Racoon Innit, thieving little bastard

Techno scowled. “He wouldn’t,” he muttered. “Tommy knew I wasn’t going to use them unless I had to, he wouldn’t-”

“Mate?” Phil’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What are you talking about? Tommy wouldn’t what?”

“Chat is- they’re saying something about Tommy stealing the wither skulls,” Techno said. “And I don’t think he would, because he’s been trying to stay out of conflicts now, or… he said he was. It’s not like Tommy would use them, anyway. He’s not really the type.”

Theseus Innit, no war, Achilles, no war for Tommy, but for Tubbo, for Patroclus-

Phil nodded slowly. “Yeah, he did say he was going to stay out of conflicts, but…” He hesitated. “I mean, with Tubbo involved, do you still think he would-”

“Nah,” Techno interrupted, and he really didn’t think that Tommy would steal the withers, because why would he? Tommy didn’t have a use for them. “I think Chat’s just being paranoid.” He started from the front door. “What would Tommy do with a bunch of stolen wither heads? 

“If you say so,” Phil relented. “If you happen to see him, though, maybe send him back to Sam.”

Tehno pushed open the front door.. “You think Tommy would  listen to me?” He walked outside to grab Carl. “If he left Sam’s house, then he’s already set on whatever he’s doing.”

Phil moved to stand in the open doorway. “And I guess we’re assuming he’d do anything at all,” he pointed out while Techno saddled Carl. “It’s probably not an unfair assumption, though.”

“It’s really not,” Techno agreed. “I’m sure someone will see him in L’Manburg if I don’t. Dream is bound to run into him at some point.” He nodded towards his horse, indicating that he was ready to go. “Speaking of Dream…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Phil said, lifting a hand in farewell. “Have fun with your revenge. I’m gonna go mining while you’re out, so if I’m not here when you get back, I’ll probably still be in the Nether.”

Techno nodded, mounting Carl and grabbing hold of the reins. “Got it,” he replied, before snapping the leather reins and starting for the cave.

The arctic air bit at his face as he traveled through the biome, but he was used to it after so many months of farming in the snow. He’d hated it, at first, his piglin nature craving the familiarity of warmth. There was something comforting about the cold, though. Something that soothed his overheated nerves when he needed it. And, at the end of the day, he always had a fireplace to come home to, and a friend that would meet him there.

All things considered, not all that bad of a place to be.

Technosoft, Chat sang, Softnoblade, soft only for Oldza, Dadza, not canonically, SBI pog?, NO, family dynamic?, no no no, Techno is SOFT

As much as Techno valued the quiet, he rarely got it, thanks to Chat. It was moments like this, though, that he didn’t really mind it so much, a gentle break in the monotony as he traveled. It was the calm before the storm, he supposed. Chat was surely going to assault his thoughts once he made it to L’Manburg.

Smoke, Chat whispered suddenly, urgently, smoke, smoke and fire, TNT, they seethed, destruction, Blood for the Blood God, ashes to ashes

Techno sighed. ”Already at it, huh?”

Tommy! Chat interjected, down with L’Manburg, Blood for the Blood God!, Tommy Tommy Tommy, thief, stolen, he stole it!

“Tommy?” Techno muttered, urging Carl faster. “Chat, I’m telling you, Tommy won’t mess with the-”

NO, Chat interjected, he stole it!, Tommy, Thief Innit, he stole, we saw!, thief, Theseus, Racoon Innit, thieving little gremlin, Achilles, soldier, thief, martyr, victim, THIEF-

Techno brought Carl to a halt outside of the hidden cave, nearly overwhelmed by the overlapping voices as they all clamored for his attention. “Chat. Chat,” he said as calmly as he could, choosing to take his irritation out by slamming the button. “If I open this and nothing is missing, I’m- I’ll do something. If you’ve made me worry over nothing.”

And it seemed that Chat had, in fact, made him worry over nothing. Looking around the cave, Techno could see that everything was accounted for, not a single skull missing off the wall. There wasn’t so much as a snowflake out of place.

thief, Chat insisted anyway, if a little quieter, he stole it, raccoon, gremlin, child

Shaking his head, Techno started putting skulls in his inventory. “Well, if he didn’t steal the wither skulls,” he wondered aloud, “then what did Tommy steal?” For once, Chat had no response. “Oh, now you stop talking?” Stubbornly, and likely just to spite him, Chat remained silent. “Of course.” He walked out of the cave, closing the door behind him. “You guys are the least helpful omnipotent voices, ever.”

rude, Chat gasped.

Techno heard his communicator go off as he got back in Carl’s saddle. “That better not be Dream,” he grumbled. “Impatient teletubby,” he pulled out his communicator as he settled into the familar leather saddle. “Not to mention homeless, and-” he paused, reins in one hand and communicator in the other, and studied the message on the screen.

‘Where are you right now?’

Which wasn’t a strange question, really, the strange thing was that the message was from, “Eret?” Techno asked the empty air. “What would-”

‘Techno, were you at my castle?’

Techno frowned. “Chat,” he asked suspiciously. “What does the monarch want?”

If Chat were capable of laughing, Techno was sure they’d have been doing it. He stole it! the voices said gleefully, we told you, Tommy stole it!, told you so, thief, Raccoon Innit strikes again!

“But what-” Techno sighed in exasperation. “What did he take, Chat?”

His communicator buzzed with a new message, and everything suddenly–and rather annoyingly–clicked into place.

‘’One of the weapons I took is missing.’ Eret wrote, ‘The Axe of Peace is gone.’

Because, of course, it was. And Techno had a feeling he knew exactly where it had disappeared to. “That gremlin,” he bit out, somewhere between impressed and angry. “Absolute raccoon of a child.” Oddly enough, he was less frustrated that Tommy had stolen the axe and more irritated that he hadn’t thought to do that first.

L, Chat said, L, L, your confiscated weapon got stolen? couldn’t be me, L, thief innit, why is Eret’s castle so easy to get into?, HA!

Techno resisted the urge to slam his head against the nearest tree. “Well, Phil is gonna get a kick out of this,” he mumbled. “Tommy stole, just not the thing we thought he’d steal. Go figure.” He narrowed his eyes against the sun, the high-noon rays making the snow almost blinding. “And that means I’m definitely gonna see him in L’Manburg.”

That was… well, he couldn’t say he was surprised, really, but he was disappointed, in a way. It seemed both of their retirements had come to a screeching halt, and Techno had actually been hoping that he and Tommy would get at least a few months of peace.

And, technically, Techno supposed that they did still have the choice. No one was twisting either of their arms. No one was forcing them to go back to L’Manburg.

But Techno was Techno, and Tommy was Tommy. Dragged into war like moths to flame, instinctively drawn to anything that burned, simply because destruction was the only warmth they’d ever known. Neither one of them could have walked away from this if they tried, and they both knew it.

you wanna be a hero?, the Greeks knew the score, Blood for the Blood God!, then die like one!, violence is the only universal language, L’Manburg will fall, smoke and ash and fire, Blood for the Blood God!

“Alright, Achilles,” Techno said, snapping Carl’s reins. Theseus, Icarus, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy- “Let’s just hope this is the last war for both of us.”

Notes:

This chapter is the bane of my existence. It got rewritten three times. Maybe four times? I forget. I've been dissociating for, like, three weeks, lmao, the concept of time is dead to me and I remember nothing.

Techno and Phil, are... they just be. And I hate them for that. Just chatting in their house like they're normal people or something, the boring fucking pricks. You create character concepts like "grieving immortal father who irreparably damaged his wings trying--and failing--to save his only mortal connection" and "warrior that struggles with his humanity because being a weapon is all he knows, and is near constantly hindered by an army of voices in his head that demand violence of him" and then THESE are the actual characters we get? Near perfect character concepts, and they have the audacity to just be hypocrite terrorists brewing potions and shit, get fucked, both of you. This is what AUs are for. Fuck canon. Canon is my bitch.

Anyhoo... I think I'm gonna do a Tubbo chapter next, because. just because. I simply must traumatize the Bee Boy, it's in my contract. Legally binding.

Chapter 56: Take and Destroy

Notes:

Tubbo angst, Tubbo Angst, TUBBO ANGST-

Tubbo hated that the feeling of the front lines was so familiar. Tubbo hated that the thrill of fighting and the dread of impending death fit like well-worn gloves, while the responsibility and authority that came with presidency just barely clung to his frame, looser than his ill-fitting suit. Tubbo hated that his country was mourning, that it was his fault, and he was still, somehow, numb to all of it.

The past day or so had been a blur. In a few terribly quiet moments, Tubbo wondered what Tommy was doing while he prepared for the third war of his life. What would Tommy have done, if he was there to help prepare, and what would he have done that Tubbo didn’t?

The compass in his pocket felt heavier than usual.

He paused for a moment in a nearly empty room. His house hardly even looked touched, and he supposed that made sense, considering he’d barely lived in it the past few months. Honestly, Tubbo felt as though he’d barely lived at all.

His suit looked near pristine folded up in his inventory, the fabric smooth and unwrinkled. Begrudgingly, Tubbo would admit the irony of the whole thing was absolutely fucking hilarious. The suit looked nicer when it wasn’t worn and being president seemed nicer until he actually had the job.

Without his suit, dressed down in his familiar green button-up, he could almost pretend the last few months never even happened. His house was empty enough to believe he was entering it for the very first time, when the weight of responsibility hadn’t quite hit him yet, and L’Manburg still meant something. If he didn’t look directly at the armor in his inventory, it was almost as though he was never president to begin with. 

Tubbo frowned, then opened his inventory and pulled out his armor. The netherite sat more comfortably on his shoulders than his suit ever did, and he grimaced at the familiarity of a sword in his hand. His hand around a hilt felt more natural than any order he’d given during his entire presidency.

He wouldn’t be this scared if Tommy were there. He wouldn’t be this accepting. This was a war to end it all, Tommy or no, but if his friend were there, Tubbo could still believe that the fight was worth something. He could believe that they still had something to cling to, even in losing their home for the third time.

But Tubbo didn’t have Tommy. Once he lost L’Manburg, Tubbo wouldn’t have much of anything, except another hole to fill.

A door slamming open jolting him from his thoughts. “Tubbo!” a voice rang out, impossibly loud in the empty house. “Tubbo, we gotta go!”

“Big Q?” Tubbo turned to see Quackity stumbling into view, clumsily turning a corner. Tubbo could sympathize. Losing an eye required an adjustment period. “What’s going on?”

“It’s starting,” Quackity breathed. “Dude, they’re fucking starting, have you looked outside?”

Tubbo’s eyes widened, following Quackity to the door to see for himself. Surely, Dream and Techno hadn’t arrived yet. Tubbo could have sworn they had more time to prepare.

But looking outside confirmed the worst.

Dream and Techno were early.

It was a bitter realization, Tubbo lamented as he ran out of his house and looked up at a partially blocked sky. Techno and Dream were early, and L’Manburg hadn’t done nearly enough to prepare. Though, most people had expected to be unprepared, anyway. Tubbo suspected that if they’d had a whole month to prepare, it wouldn’t be enough to stand against whatever the fuck was in the sky.

Tubbo never understood how people described time slowing down in the face of danger. How they could see a disaster in motion and think time was standing still. Because the moment, the second, that the obsidian grid above him began raining TNT was the moment Tubbo’s entire world came rushing towards him all at once.

How could time be standing still when the sky had opened up above him? How could time have slowed if the ground beneath him shook with explosions so loud that they drowned the shouts of his citizens?

How could time be anything but painfully and heart-stoppingly fast, as everything around him was ripped apart far quicker than he could put it together.

“Tubbo!” Quackity shouted, jolting Tubbo from his stillness. “Let’s fucking go, man! Techno is right in the middle of the country!”

And Tubbo, unlike time, was all too capable of standing still, rooted to the spot with fear and guilt sitting in his chest like stones. A tug on his arm made him stumble, the rest of him finally catching up with the world rushing past him. “Where-” The sound of TNT hitting the ground forced the air from his lungs. “Where’s Ranboo?” he asked frantically. “Fundy? Niki?”

Quackity shook his head, half dragging Tubbo to the platform still left from the Green Festival. “I don’t know! I don’t- get back!” He skid to a halt just before the platform, pulling a sword from his inventory and yanking Tubbo back. “Shit!” he cursed, moving to run around the forming craters.

Tubbo glanced up, trying to find the source of Quackity’s cursing, and the world spun as a wither loomed in the corner of his vision. His vision blurred as it turned in their direction, all six of its eyes freezing Tubbo in place. He lost his footing, a tug on his arm pulling him upright and forward, prompting his legs to carry him again. The sound of blocks breaking behind him made his ears ring, his heart beating in time to his footsteps.

“In here, in here,” Quackity hissed, dragging Tubbo to a half-destroyed building. Unrecognizable in the wreckage of war, ruined by wither damage, but somewhat safe from the rain TNT. “Fuck,” muttered Quackity, squinting into the battlefield. “I swear to fucking god, if Phil shows up, I’m-”

“Big Q!” another voice called out. And the familiarity made Tubbo’s blood freeze in his veins. He knew this voice, and he refused to be caught standing still again, refused to let this voice kill him twice.

He whirled around, stabbing his sword in the direction of the voice. Gunpowder explosions and someone’s distant laugh were drowned by the blood rushing in his ears. The man in the building’s ruined wall recoiled in surprise, hands in the air placatingly as he took a step back.

“Whoa, hey!” Sapnap said quickly. “It’s me!”

Tubbo grit his teeth. “I know who it is.” And he wondered if Sapnap ever saw obsidian rooms or bright red buttons in his nightmares. He wondered if Sapnap ever felt uneasy in rooms with no windows. He wondered if Sapnap ever heard the echoed screams of friends being slaughtered one by one.

"Sapnap!" Quackity exclaimed, pushing past Tubbo. "What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay out of this."

Sapnap shrugged awkwardly, his hands still up in surrender at Tubbo's swordpoint. "Surprise?"

Quackity barked out a laugh. "Surprise?" he repeated. "I told you not to- and now you're-" he heaved an aggravated sigh, "This is the stupidest thing you could've done."

"I think it's kinda romantic," Sapnap disagreed. "You know, love on the battlefield?" He looked sheepish, as though just realizing that sneaking up on them during a war was a bad idea. "I, uh… I didn’t think Dream would have started yet.”

“Okay, well, he started,” Quackity snapped. “So you need to get the fuck out of here.”

“No, listen!” Sapnap said quickly. “Listen, Quackity, I was talking with Tommy, and-”

“Tommy?” Tubbo interrupted, lowering his sword for the first time, the hilt slipping through his fingers just the slightest bit. “You’ve seen Tommy? Where is he?”

Confusion furrowed Sapnap’s brow. “He’s- is he not here, yet?” he asked. “He said he was coming here.”

“Here?” Tubbo asked incredulously, a new wave of TNT punctuating the syllable. “He’s coming here?” Sapnap hesitated, which wasn’t really an answer, but it was the only answer Tubbo needed.

His heartbeat was quick and light in his chest. It raced like a chased rabbit, as opposed to the uncomfortable throbbing against his ribcage that came from running or explosions or the sting of gunpowder. It was a quieter panic, one that made his skin crawl and lingered like the scent of alcohol.

It felt like he’d been caught in a lie, and it was probably because a treacherous part of Tubbo was relieved. He’d spent all day hoping that Tommy would stay away, that at least one of them would be spared from another war, and now some sick part of him was relieved that Tommy was meeting him on the front lines.

“Look,” Sapnap said, effectively ripping Tubbo from his thoughts, “we were just talking, and I wasn’t- I wasn’t going to come, Big Q, but he said something, like-”

“You’re kidding me,” Quackity said in disbelief.

Sapnap continued, “My friends are worth more than my neutrality,” and Tubbo’s stomach twisted at the words, “which is- it’s kind of a smart thing to say, you know, for Tommy. And I thought-”

“Are you fucking serious?” Quackity interrupted. “You’re doing this now? You’re doing this- the heroic bullshit, where you show up after I asked you not to? You’re doing this right now?”

Tubbo thought it was sweet, in a hopeless romantic kind of way. Emphasis on the hopeless, their current situation considered. Sapnap meant well, clearly, but there was a war going on. There were bigger priorities than… whatever this was.

“No!” Sapnap protested. “I mean, yes, I’m kind of doing that, I guess, but you technically never told me not to come.”

Quackity threw up his hands in exasperation. “What could have possibly made you think this was a good idea?” Sapnap opened his mouth to answer, “And I don’t care what Tommy said!” Quackity was quick to interject. “Walking into an active battlefield-”

“Is it so hard to believe that I actually care whether or not you make it out of this alive? I don’t have to be a citizen of L’Manburg to want you safe.”

God, Tubbo didn’t have time for this. Sapnap and Quackity probably could have bickered forever and a day, but Tubbo did not have time. There were still explosions outside, people shouting, the sound of withers destroying blocks.

Watching them fight felt absolutely fucking ridiculous. The whole thing felt out of place, and it definitely shouldn’t have taken place on a battlefield, of all places. It was awkward, and Tubbo hated that he almost found it funny. He was sure someone in the universe was laughing about this whole thing.

The communicator in his pocket buzzed. Tubbo reached for it, still keeping an eye on the arguing fiances in front of him, and glanced at the message. It took a moment to decipher, the adrenaline still making his head light, but his heart started pounding when it finally registered.

  Jack Manifold was slain by Technoblade.

The first casualty, Tubbo thought bitterly. Already someone in the crossfires, a friend with one less life, and another with nothing to lose on the way.

Tubbo took a breath, ready to start telling off the two squabbling idiots in front of him, but barely even managed a syllable before a crash sent him sprawling.

That, at least, seemed to get Quackity’s attention. “Shit!” he cursed. “It’s a wither!” Tubbo felt a hand on his arm, his head still spinning a bit from the impact. “Come on, Big T, we gotta kill this thing, or it’s just gonna follow us.” He was unceremoniously tugged to his feet. “Tubbo, come on!”

Sapnap all but them shoved out of the house, if could even be called that anymore. “Move it!” he told them unnecessarily, as if Tubbo and Quackity didn’t know the dangers of fighting a wither. As if Tubbo and Quackity hadn’t already been wound tight to run, probably for hours now.

And part of him knew that when Sapnap and Quackity stopped running and turned, it should have been his que to stop and fight with them. Distantly, he even heard one of them calling his name over the sound of TNT, which had almost just become background noise, in a fucked up kind of way.

He should have stopped… but Sapnap and Quackity were capable fighters, and he had business to attend to.

Ominous obsidian shadows and flashes of exploding TNT made running a disorienting thing. The ground beneath him shook violently, his only stability being the sword in his hand and the heartbeat in his ears. He was almost grateful for how the TNT was coming down. The columns of explosives were far easier to dodge than an entire country going up in flames.

It also helped to keep his eyes focused on his target, he found. Keeping his gaze trained on the obsidian black grid helped him ignore the blinding explosions around him. If he focused on running, and not on the clash of weapons, or the second wither that had started chasing Fundy, then the whole war thing was actually quite easy to ignore.

And as he climbed a barebone wooden structure, the only route he could find to the top of the obsidian monstrosity hovering over his country, he found it especially helpful to focus on the green smear standing over the rain of TNT.

“Dream!” he shouted, and his voice felt like something outside himself, hoarse and angry. He didn’t have a plan beyond getting Dream’s attention, he certainly couldn’t fight Dream at the top of this thing, but he pushed forward anyway.

A bit of a Tommy Move, he thought.

Dream turned. “Tubbo!” he greeted, with an infuriating amount of enthusiasm for all the bloodshed below them. “Former president of L’Manburg,” Tubbo could hear the wicked smile in his voice, “how have you been?”

Tubbo sucked in a breath, putting his sword back in his inventory and stepping onto the obsidian grid. “This is all a bit… overkill.” He gestured weakly around them. “Don’t you think?”

“Eh,” Dream shrugged, “just need to make sure everyone gets the message.” He turned back to gaze over the battlefield. “You shouldn’t have fucked with me, man. Should’ve just followed the rules.”

“So, you- you’re punishing the whole country?” Tubbo asked. “They didn’t do anything! This is on me and Quackity. I don’t- I don’t understand.”

For a moment, Dream was quiet, the orange light of fire and the setting sun glinting off his porcelain mask. Then he spun around to face Tubbo, head tilted. “Okay, sure,” he conceded. “I could have just taken it out on you and Quackity.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I could have just left the whole thing alone. It’s not like you guys would have been able to kill me, anyway.”

Tubbo grit his teeth. “But?”

“But,” Dream drawled, “I figured that this grid here was a more… interesting solution to my problem.” Tubbo’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Sure, I could’ve left it alone,” Dream continued, “but why would I?” He turned his gaze to the rain of TNT and the destroyed country beneath them. “This is so much more fun.”

“Fun?" Tubbo snapped, his anger reaching a breaking point, the adrenaline of war still pumping through his veins. "This isn't- this isn't a game!"

Dream head snapped in Tubbo’s direction. “It is a game,” he said coolly. “It’s a game that I always win, and Tommy knows it. And you-” he gestured around the ruined country, the people below them still running and fighting and shouting- “are all just pawns!”

Tubbo choked on his disbelief. “Tommy,” he said, feeling near delirious and light-headed. “This can’t- this can’t be about Tommy, he doesn’t even fucking live here."

“So?” Dream asked. “Who cares if he lives here? He still, you know, cares about it. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“You already have his discs!” A shame settled like a weight on his chest, remembering how betrayed Tommy sounded about losing them both. “You have everything he wants, what does L’Manburg have to do with-”

“Holy shit, you are dense,” Dream interrupted, prompting Tubbo’s mouth to click shut in surprise. “I mean, you are actually- Oh, my fucking god.” He chuckled a bit. “This isn’t about the discs, it’s- well, it is a little bit,” he amended. “But it’s mostly about attachments. If I can take the things that people are attached to, then people will have to listen to me.” He threw his arms wide. “I can control the server again!”

“You’re crazy,” Tubbo said before he could stop himself. “You- you’re fucking crazy, Dream.”

Dream hummed. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But I’m not wrong.” He nodded to the destroyed country below them. “All I needed was to get Tommy under control, Tubbo. Taking his discs didn’t work. Taking his freedom didn’t work. I got him sent away, stopped all of you from coming- I took all of L’Manburg from him, and it didn’t fucking work.”

Tubbo couldn’t help the snicker that slipped out. “So, nothing’s worked?” he asked coyly, “Have you considered getting good?” He sounded a bit like Technoblade, back when they were all still… something. In Pogtopia. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cracked a joke so casually, in Dream’s presence, no less.

“Hilarious, Tubbo,” Dream deadpanned.

“Well, to be fair,” Tubbo said, “it is quite funny.” And it was, genuinely. Tubbo was certain that it was the funniest thing he could think of, in the moment. “I mean, fuck, all this…” he glanced down at the ruins of his country, part of him crying out at the lost, and part of him already numb to it, “for just one person.” For Tommy.

For Tommy, because none of this was ever about him. Not really. No in any way that mattered. His little assassination attempt was practically meaningless, aside from being an excuse for Dream to execute a plan he’d wanted to carry out since the very beginning. Tubbo was a catalyst, not a cause. And part of him was so unbelievably angry.

He felt like he had a right to be absolutely furious, knowing how little he actually mattered, in the grand scheme of things, but anger wasn’t a thing he dwelled on.

Anger was exhausting, and he didn’t really have the time or the energy for it. He prefered to keep his anger close to him, a bitter reminder of all he’d lost. He supposed that’s what always balanced him and Tommy out. Where Tommy wore his explosive anger on a stitched-together sleeve, Tubbo wore his like a fur coat, clinging to a patchwork of dead things to keep himself warm.

“What’s the plan now, Bossman?” Tubbo asked Dream, feeling a wave of calm wash over him. The people below him were starting to head towards the outskirts of L’Manburg. Rather, the sides of the crater that used to be a country. There was still a dark mass wandering the destruction, flashes of purple, enchanted netherite. There must have still been a wither floating around, but things looked… handled.

As ‘handled’ as any war could be.

They were safe, for the most part. Tubbo couldn’t even pick out Technoblade in the destruction anymore. He wasn’t happy, far from it, but this was an acceptable loss, as long as his citizens–former citizens–could walk away from it.

Tubbo felt something fall against his cheek. Rain, he thought distantly, it’s fucking raining. Because of course it was. Why not? He supposed someone needed to mourn properly today.

He crossed his arms, still waiting for Dream’s answer expectantly. “So?” he asked. “What’s the next part of your-”

“Dream!” a voice cut through the air, somehow roaring over the sound of thunder. Tubbo didn’t need to look to see who it was, but he locked onto the blue gaze of his friend, anyway. He couldn’t tell if Tommy was looking back at him or not, maybe he was glaring at Dream, or the rain or the grid or the TNT, but he wanted to believe that Tommy was meeting his gaze.

Panic crept up on him, like cold rain seeping into his skin. This war, the massacre, it was already happening and almost over, but if Tommy showed up now, then Dream could do something. Something more, something worse. And there wasn’t anything more that the admin could take, nothing more he could destroy, but he could take and destroy Tommy just as easily.

His gaze slid back to Dream as Tommy started running, thunder rumbling and shaking the grid. This war wasn’t over just yet, and Tubbo was still a politician, so if there wasn’t anything to fight, then he needed to talk. “It’s not gonna work, you know,” he said easily, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. Wilbur had always been better at this sort of thing. “You said it yourself, nothing you’ve tried has worked.”

Dream was quiet, watching Tommy start scaling the walls of the crater. Quackity was a blur through the smoke, racing towards Tommy to try and stop him, nearly everyone else having already dissipated. Tubbo couldn’t even make out Ranboo through the clouds of ash.

“Why are you so obsessed with Tommy, anyway?” Tubbo reasoned. “He’s- L’Manburg is gone, right? Tommy wasn’t even affiliated with it! He’s just been living with Sam.”

“That’s not the point,” Dream muttered, his voice darker than the stormy clouds above them. “Tommy is dangerous, and this server isn’t safe until I have him under control.”

Tubbo shook his head, his tone bordering on desperation. “But you said- you said nothing’s worked!” he pointed out. “You have his discs, you destroyed L’Manburg, he lives in the middle of fucking nowhere!

"You can’t take anything else from him," he said, and he hated how true it was. It hurt to think of just how little either of them had left. "There’s nothing else that he cares about enough to-” His sentence became strangled as a flash of light lit up the world around him. “What-”

And for a moment, just a split second, Tubbo could see everything. He could see the destruction of wither-ruined homes like they were sitting in broad daylight and the faintest dents in Dream's armor. Every hair stood on end, the air around him electric.

It would be his luck, some bitterly amused part of him thought, it fucking would be his and Tommy’s luck, that lightning would strike the ground just as Tommy descended on L’Manburg territory.

“Shit!” Tubbo ran to the edge of the obsidian grid, his gaze flicking wildly around the ground, already too dark to see with storm and incoming night, and even darker with the blanket of ash that coated everything. “Tommy! Tom-” He fumbled with his communicator for a moment, desperately checking chat for a death message.

No death message, but the lightning was close. Maybe too close, maybe close enough to injure. Tubbo was pretty far, though. Maybe it wasn’t as close as he thought, and maybe Tommy was fine-

“Well, that’s convenient,” Dream said lightly. “Should keep him down long enough.”

Tubbo tore his gaze away from the ground. “Long enough for what?” he demanded.

Dream tilted his head. “You know,” he said, something sickeningly sincere in his voice, “I could probably think of one thing I could take. Something he cares about more than anything on this server.”

A naive part of Tubbo wanted to ask. What could Tommy possibly care about more than the discs? More than his brother’s country? More than any place he’d called home? He wished he was that oblivious and, just a few months ago, he might have been.

But there were only two reasons that Tommy was here for this war, just two things that could have dragged him to L’Manburg at all, and they were both standing on top of an obsidian grid. And as Dream stood over him with a weakness potion, a selfish part of Tubbo hoped.

A selfish part of him hoped that Tommy really did care that he was the thing Dream took and, perhaps even more selfishly, a part of him hoped that Tommy wouldn’t care at all. Maybe then at least one of them could finally have peace.

Notes:

You're probably wondering, "Why the fuck would you do that?? Oh my god, the teletubby just kidnapped Tubbo, why would you Do That??" And the answer is... because I can, mostly, and I will sip your tears like the finest wine.

Also, I put Sapnap back in the story. Because. In canon, Sapnap decided to help with the lore because Tommy gave him Mars the Fish. So, I figured... like, why not just put him back in there? And, admittedly, I just wanted some Quacknap. Sue me! I love the fiances. If I wasn't writing an AwesamDad fic, I'd be writing a Karlnapity one. that might be a lie, actually, i have too many fic ideas.

Anyway! The lightning blooper is canon because I say so because Plot Convenience and Dream needed enough time to kidnap Tubbo. The question now is: Do we want a Sam POV or a Tommy POV next? Either way, it's gonna be a good time :D

Chapter 57: The Color of Friendship

Notes:

this is not a month late, shhhhh

Tommy felt a little outside himself, walking away from Eret’s castle. He was holding the stolen Axe of Peace, leaving behind a castle with one less window and one more sign, a hastily written message scribbled across the wooden boards. In hindsight, he wasn’t even sure he signed it. He wasn’t even sure what he wrote, exactly, just that he needed the axe and he was taking it.

Probably should have signed it. He hoped Eret wouldn’t be too upset about the whole thing, it wasn’t like he was giving it back to Techno, or anything. Nothing violating the trial ruling, technically. He just- he really didn’t have the time or the energy to make his own weapons, at the moment, even if he did have the resources.

Besides, the weapon wasn't the only thing he stole. He grabbed potions, too, and Eret probably would have approved of those. The sand, maybe not so much. And the gunpowder… 

It was only just in case, he told himself. Like the crossbow at Tubbo’s festival. He wouldn’t use it unless he had to.

And maybe stealing Techno’s axe was a little bit out of spite, he’d admit to himself. Maybe part of him was still bitter about the sixteenth of November, and maybe part of him was still pissed off about the pit, and maybe he was tired of pretending it never happened. Maybe he was pissed off that Techno got a farm and a friend and closure, after everything, and Tommy still had to rebuild a country he didn’t get to live in.

A scowl found its way to his face. It was the most expressive he’d been in the past couple of hours, and after he’d been trying so hard to keep it under wraps, too, trying to ignore all the seething anger under his skin. He’s so angry, he could hear Wilbur taunt, his silver tongue mocking and sharp, always leading with his emotions, he’d say.

As though Tommy was the unstable one, leading with his emotions. As if Tommy was the destructive force of the two brothers. Tommy would like to ask just how emotional Wilbur was when he blew up the fucking country. But he couldn’t ask, because Wilbur was dead and buried, just like L’Manburg would be.

And then everything he had left of Wilbur would be gone.

L’Manburg… Tommy had done nearly everything he could, short of officially announcing that he was leaving the country behind. He’d almost completely severed himself from it. The revolution, the politics, Wilbur’s great unfinished symphony, he didn’t care. And he’d been so close to escaping it all. For a moment, for a just a fleeting goddamn moment, he’d almost said ‘fuck it’ to the whole thing. Even his discs!

He had a taste of freedom–real freedom, with no countries or older brothers–and he wanted it back. He wanted his independence without the walls. He wanted his liberty without the illusions. He wanted his life back, the life he had before the wars.

And he could have it.

Tommy stopped in the middle of a field, glaring at the grass beneath his shoes. There was still a tear in one of them, the stitches Tommy had carelessly patched it with in exile slowly coming undone.

Sewing it again wouldn’t be a problem, this time. He had real tools for mending things back home–back at Sam’s house. Nothing he owned would have to be so frayed and broken, never again. And he wanted… god, more than anything, he wanted it. He wanted to fix his shit–physically, metaphorically, he just wanted everything to be whole again.

He didn’t know who he could be without a war to give him purpose. He didn’t know who he was without the fighting, but he wanted to find out. Even though the fighting and the wars had made him feel useful, he still hated every second, and he didn’t want that to be his life anymore.

And he knew that he should want to feel useful, he should want to be needed, and he did, he just- he also wanted to be wanted. He wanted people to want him around, and he didn’t want to be in danger in order for them to care about his presence. And he knew it was such a horribly selfish thing to want, but it was true. 

Tommy started walking again.

He hadn’t learned anything during his stay with Sam.

How could he think he deserved to escape this, to have a life outside of the heroics and the politics, when he was still so selfish? Some people just weren’t built for kindness and understanding and other soft things, Tommy supposed. Some people were made to have tough, jagged edges and Tommy was one of them.

No sense in denying that any longer than he already had. No sense in pretending that he was built for anything other than this. Built for lying and stealing and fighting.

Tommy glanced up at the darkening sky. It was going to rain soon, he could tell, gray clouds and the scent of petrichor in the air. That was going to make fighting hard, it’d make the grass slick, the hilts and handles of weapons slippery and hard to hold.

The hand around Techno’s axe tightened at the thought. He hadn’t even thought to put the thing in his inventory. It felt too natural to carry, despite the fact that it wasn’t built for him. The handle was a little too long for his frame, the sharpened netherite at the end was just a bit too heavy for his taste, but the feeling of a weapon in his hand… it was familiar, at least.

Or maybe it was less the weapon that was familiar and more the feeling of carrying a weight too big for him. Carrying things just a bit too heavy for his shoulders. It was a trait that he and Tubbo shared, funnily enough, taking on responsibilities they couldn’t really handle. Responsibilities, like wars and presidency they couldn’t handle. Like duels they couldn’t win and politics they didn’t understand.

Like stolen axes that just weren’t built for them.

Tommy grimaced as the sky darkened again. Smoke, he knew, and he hated that he knew exactly what a smoke-filled sky looked like. Seemed like the war had already gotten started without him, which was a nice change of pace, in an odd way. Usually, he was already in the middle of everything. It was strange to be dropping in after the fighting had already begun.

For a brief moment, he wondered if people were still going to find a way to blame him for this. He wondered if he’d still deserve to be blamed.

Sam would tell him not to think like that. Sam would tell him that he didn’t deserve to be blamed for any of this. Sam would… probably say a lot of comforting things, actually, because Sam was good at that. And if his eyes stung at the thought, he’d blamed the smoke.

His throat constricted and his chest ached and he blamed the adrenaline of war. His jaw clicked, protesting the vicious grinding of his teeth, and he blamed the distant sound of explosions. He blamed the gunpowder and the TNT for his trembling hands.

He blamed whatever he could, because he was too desperate and angry to do anything else. He blamed himself and the fire and ash.

He blamed the soot.

Something cool fell on his arm. Rain, Tommy thought bitterly, just as he suspected. The rain that started pelting his skin was the opposite of a lit fuse, but frustration caught in his throat, anyway. He wished he could tear the sky apart with his hands and scream until the clouds went away.

Instead, he ran. Running was something that Tommy was good at, towards danger and away from it. Running into trouble or running out of a burning country. And there was nothing he would have wanted more than to run as far away from this war as he could. Some selfish part of him still wanted to say ‘fuck this’ and go back to Sam, but he couldn’t.

Because even if he could tear himself away from L’Manburg, he still had Tubbo. He lost his brother and his discs and his country, but he refused to lose his best friend.

The ground trembled as he tore through the grass, his heart thudded in his ears in time with his footfalls, nearly drowned out by the sound of distant thunder and explosions. He stumbled a bit as he ran through the Community House.

He could be too late, he realized with startling clarity, something curling in his stomach at the thought. Weirdly, it was the first time that real fear had hit him since leaving Sam’s house. He figured he should have felt something akin to fear before now, running straight into a war and all, but the thought of being too late made him break into a cold sweat.

Tommy couldn’t be too late. He couldn’t, he needed to not be too late. He refused to be too late.

Because if he was too late, then… he wasn’t really sure what he’d do. He just knew he couldn’t lose his best friend, not after losing everything else. His heart was already rotted with the brother-shaped hole, and losing Tubbo would be the thing that tore it apart.

An obsidian monstrosity came into view, and Tommy ran faster. He could already hear the TNT, could see the lines of it falling into the country like rain. He could already taste the gunpowder as the explosions destroyed everything they managed to touch.

Tommy and TNT were a lot alike that way.

Thunder and explosions shook the ground as Tommy neared the forming crater. There were flashes of color in the pit, people running– what happens in the pit, stays– and shouting things that Tommy could hear but couldn’t understand, a tumble of formless words, warnings, and threats.

But he only let his gaze flit across the battlefield for a moment, desperately searching for a glimpse of anything familiar, and he didn’t find it. Rather, he did, a flash of Fundy’s bright orange, Niki’s pink hair, a red cape that could only be Techno’s, but it wasn’t what he was looking for.

His gaze caught on something green, forest green, like the fields around the Camarvan, and he jerked his gaze skyward. That’s what he was looking for, the flash of green through the rain and the smoke. Like moss that grew on the sides of rocks and trees. His best friend wore green.

And just as familiar, in all the wrong ways, was a porcelain smile. Another green stain in Tommy’s field of vision. Bright and unnatural, like a neon sign in a desert, something Tommy could cling to when he was the loneliest he’d ever been. Like the rare green flash of a beachside sunset, and Tommy had always loved the ocean, until he didn’t. His best friend wore-

“Dream!” the name felt like sandpaper as it tore out of his throat. Even over the sound of thunder and TNT, his voice carried to the top of the grid, both Dream and Tubbo whirling at the sound. Tommy didn’t need to see the cornflower blue of Tubbo’s eyes to know the goat hybrid was staring down at him.

Tommy wished he could have said a thousand words, but he couldn’t. He let his gaze linger on Tubbo for a moment, hoping his friend would understand, and then glared at Dream.

The porcelain smile was a taunt, Dream’s mask tilting slightly in expectation, questioning. It was a familiar question, when Dream handed Tommy flint and steel and gestured to the hole, when he allowed Tommy to visit the Christmas tree and waited by the portal. When he’d stand and stare, and tilt his head-

What are you waiting for?

“Bitch,” Tommy cursed. “You green fucking bitch.” He tore his gaze away from the grid and started for the edge of the crater. “I’ll clart you, right in your stupid fucking mask-”

“Tommy!” a voice shouted over the thunder, a streak of dark blue. “Tommy, get out of here, it’s not safe!”

Tommy grit his teeth, skidding along the sloped sides of the forming crater with the Axe of Peace still balanced in his hand. “Fuck off, Big Q!” he snapped, not entirely sure Quackity could even hear him, but everything in him was too wound up to care. “I’m in the middle of something important!”

“Hey!” Tommy groaned as Quackity’s voice drew closer. “Tommy-”

“Shut up!” Tommy shouted over the explosions. He needed to hit something, or scream at it, or do anything to release all the pent up adrenaline. “I don’t have time for-” And Tommy didn’t find himself speechless very often, but in just a single, breathless moment, all his words were stolen from him.

And his sight with it, as the world was engulfed in a flash of blinding white.

He didn’t remember being thrown backwards, but he certainly remembered hitting the ground, his head slamming back against the charred grass. His vision grew bright with spots from the impact, fireworks behind his eyes, explosions throbbing against his skull.

That was a painfully familiar feeling, being thrown by an explosion. It’d been a while, a few months at least, and he couldn’t say he missed the feeling.

For a moment, Tommy struggled to remember how to breathe. Static had started overtaking the corners of his vision, something electric stinging his skin, and he refused to let unconsciousness take him. He sat up, ignoring the way every single part of him shrieked in protest, and reached blindly for the Axe of Peace.

The ash-filled air stubbornly refused to fill Tommy’s lungs, even as he tried to force himself to take a breath. “Fuck,” he coughed out, because no other words would come. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” God, he really didn’t miss getting the wind knocked out of him. It felt a little like drowning above water.

“Tommy!” The sharp voice made him wince, ears still ringing. His hands finally closed around the axe, a small comfort to his frayed nerves. “Tommy, holy shit!”

“Did he just get struck by lightning?”

“Tommy,” a hand on his shoulder made him flinch. “Tommy, hey, talk to me, man.”

“Shut,” Tommy gasped, his voice rasped and broken, “the fuck up, Big Q.” He blinked, just barely making out the duck hybrid in his daze.

A sigh of relief. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Quackity said, shoving at Tommy’s shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that! I thought you-”

Tommy shoved Quackity back, and planted the axe handle in the ground. “Lightning can’t kill me,” he said, leaning against the axe and hauling himself to his feet. “Tommy Innit, biggest man ever, simply couldn’t be struck by lightning.”

“Easy,” another voice said. “Slow down, dude, that was really close.” Thunder rumbled somewhere close by. “You’re seriously lucky that didn’t hit you.”

“I’m busy, Fucknap,” Tommy said. "I got- I got Big Man shit to do, you know.” His false confidence fell into place like a bullet in the chamber. His bravado would save him or end him one day, and Tommy almost didn’t care which. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an important…” he paused, “meeting. I have an incredibly important meeting to attend. With this axe.”

A hand wound itself around Tommy’s upper arm, and he ripped it away. “Hey, chill! The withers are gone,” Sapnap assured him. “I think Technoblade left already, there’s no-”

Tommy glared. “I don’t care about the withers,” he said. “You know why I’m here.” He blinked, trying to remember their conversation at Sam’s, the words blurring together. “And you… what are you doing here? I thought-” He shook his head, and immediately regretted the way it made his thoughts swim. “Never mind, I don’t care, I need to-”

“You need to stop,” Quackity said, putting his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. “Tommy, just stop.”

“No!” Tommy wrenched himself away. “I have to get up there!” He pointed the axe in his hand to the grid. “I need to get the top of that fucking thing and…” He squinted at the obsidian structure, only to find the space eerily devoid of the twin green flashes that had been there before. “Wait, where’d they go?”

Quackity frowned, and pushed down the end of Axe of Peace. “Where did who go?”

“Tubbo!” Tommy exclaimed. “And- and Dream, they were right there on top of that thing spitting TNT!”

Sapnap whirled around, his gaze flicking over the battlefield and the grid and the sides of the crater. “I don’t see them. Are you sure you saw them up there?”

The chain around Tommy’s neck felt too heavy, the compass resting against his chest burned. “No,” he muttered. “No, no, fuck you, where are they?”

“Tommy,” Quackity tried, “We never even saw Dream, and we haven’t seen Tubbo since-”

“They were just there!” Tommy interrupted. “They were right fucking there!” He stumbled away from Quackity and Sapnap’s steadying hands. “He was- didn’t you see him? Tubbo was up there, how the fuck did you not see him?”

Quackity shook his head. “He ran off, man! We were fighting off a wither, we weren’t exactly watching him.”

“Well, you should’ve!” Tommy ran a hand through his tangled, singed hair. “You- why wasn’t anyone watching him?” He spun in a useless circle, peering desperately through the rain for any sign of Tubbo. “I should’ve- I should've been here.”

But where had Tommy been instead, while Tubbo was preparing for the third war of his life?

He was at Sam’s house. He’d sat at a table, eating pancakes, while his friends prepared to fight for their lives. He had actually debated whether or not he should come, almost thought about not coming, like the selfish bastard he was.

And now Tubbo and Dream were gone, with no clues as to where they might have gone, but maybe if Tommy had been there just a little sooner, if he hadn’t been so tempted to shelter himself with Sam’s safety-

“Dude, no,” Quackity said quickly. “You should’ve been here? No, if anything, you probably should have stayed with-”

“With Sam?” Tommy interjected. “Dream’s taken Tubbo, and you’re saying I should have stayed with Sam?”

Sapnap cleared his throat. “Well, maybe-”

Tommy whirled on him, holding Techno’s axe in his direction threateningly. “Not another fucking word,” he seethed. “My best friend just got kidnapped, and you’re try to tell me that I should have stayed home? Huh? You weren’t even gonna come to this fight a few hours ago, don’t act like you give a shit!”

“Whoa!” Sapnap put his hands in the air placatingly. “Jesus, what is with you children pointing weapons at me?” Tommy opened his mouth to argue. “Not a child, whatever, just… okay, look-”

“We’re all worried,” Quackity said smoothly, cutting Sapnap off. “Tommy, we’re all worried, okay? Let’s just make sure that everyone is safe and-”

“I don’t care!” Tommy interrupted, which wasn’t really what he meant to say, because he did care. He wouldn’t have shown up if he didn’t care. “I don’t have time for this.” Which was true, because he had a fight to win. Screw the wars and the politics, Dream had Tubbo, and that was a fight Tommy had to win right now.

Or he had to start it right now, anyway, and he’d win it later. Technically, Dream started it by taking Tubbo, but nobody would remember it that way. They’d only remember that Tommy lashed out, they’d remember the fight, and then he’d get the blame.

Usually, he hated that the history books remembered him as the instigator, the cause, the problem, but for this? He’d gladly be remembered as the bad guy for this.

Before Sapnap or Quacity could ask what he was doing, Tommy spun on his heel and walked away. He’d nearly been struck by lightning and his friend had been kidnapped. He didn’t have time or the patience or the energy for questions. 

“Tommy!” He could hear Quackity protest, exasperation in his voice. “Tommy, come back!” He didn’t care, though, because he knew Quackity wouldn’t chase after him. No one ever did. Sapnap probably only came for his fiance. Which was fair, really, considering Tommy only came for his friend.

The axe in his hand felt heavier with every step he took away from the crater, the compass under his shirt still burned. He ignored the way his legs threatened to give as he walked, storming back the direction he came, along an all-too familiar path.

Attachments, Dream had lectured. Dream thought he could control Tommy by controlling the things he cared about, and Tubbo was just the next attempt at keeping Tommy under his thumb. Two could play at that game, though. Tommy could take just as easily as Dream, and he’d always been the better thief.

Dream said there wasn't anything left that he cared about, that he had no more connections to anything, but a good thief knows that there’s always something to take, even if it wasn’t the obvious thing. And Tommy was a pretty good thief.

Admittedly, he wasn’t particularly sneaky, and he got caught most of the time, but he usually got what he wanted, regardless. That was the thing that mattered

Tommy stepped into the Community House, finally discarding Techno’s axe into his inventory. He was almost upset that he didn’t see Techno in L’Manburg. Or maybe Phil, considering he two were attached a the hip The opportunity to take out his anger on something–or someone–would have been appreciated.

Techno and Phil wouldn’t have really deserved it, though, not for this. For the fireworks and the pit, yes, and the sword through his brother’s chest, but not this.

“Dickhead,” Tommy mumbled to no one in particular. He opened up his inventory and pulled out the sand and gunpowder. “Whatever. I’ll show them.” Techno, Phil- He scowled, slamming the materials down on a crafting table. “Him,” he corrected, Dream, as though he had an audience that cared. “I’ll show him.”

A block of TNT appeared on the crafting table. Wilbur.

If Dream was going to take the things that Tommy cared about, then maybe it was time that Dream lost something. Luckily, taking was a lesson his brother had taught well.

“I’m Dream,” Tommy mocked, crafting another block of TNT as he talked. “I think I’m so smart. I’m so smart, I’ve decided to kidnap people! Because that’s not a totally insane thing to do, actually.” Two more blocks of TNT. “I don’t have attachments, I’m- I’m so detached from everything.”

Tommy didn’t believe for a second that it was true. Dream cut people off, got rid of his horse, and, suddenly, he had no attachments? It wasn’t that easy to just stop caring. Not in Tommy’s experience, anyway. There was always something to take.

He didn’t need a lot of TNT, not looking to make another crater, and going overboard had always been Wiblur’s thing, anyway. The crafting was a blur, and it didn’t take long before he had blocks of explosives in his inventory. “That’ll do it,” Tommy said breathlessly. “That fucking- yeah, that’ll work.”

Dream said he didn’t care about anything, and maybe he didn’t. But Tommy knew that there were a few things that he could take anyway, and Dream would care, just because it was Tommy that took it.

And there was a voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he didn’t have to do what he was about to do. He could go about this differently, he could ask for help, and the person he needed to ask wouldn’t even be mad. More than that, he’d probably be happy that Tommy asked.

It was a very quiet voice, though. Not nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of TNT.

“Fuck this,” Tommy said, pulling the newly crafted TNT out of his inventory. “Fuck this!” he said louder, and that was enough to reignite his anger. It felt like there was still lightning lingering under his skin. Every singed hair on his arm stood on end as he set TNT around the building.

The Community House.

He didn’t give himself time to think about it, he just placed the TNT. Close enough that they could ignite each other, far enough apart to destroy as much as possible with what little he had.

Resourcefulness was another hard-won lesson. He wasn’t sure if it was Wilbur or Dream who taught it best, but between the ravine and the tent and the exiles, he learned.

Tommy shook his head. “Okay,” he muttered, even though it wasn’t. “Let’s do this,” even though he didn’t want to. He needed to, though, and Dream started it, anyway. And now that it was started, it had to be finished. No one ever won a war by doing nothing.

With his last TNT block set near the door, Tommy retrieved the flint and steel from his inventory. He hadn’t stolen it, no one even gave it to him, but it still felt like Dream had pressed it into his hands. He could almost hear Dream telling him to drop his items into a hole, holding out the fire starter with a porcelain smile, Why don’t you do the honors today, huh?  

“Fuck you,” Tommy seethed, his hand tightening around the flint and steel. Wilbur might have lit the TNT with some flourish, or taken the time to give a speech. He never did ask Phil what had happened in the Final Control Room that day. Maybe he should have. Maybe was afraid that he already knew the answer.

Maybe he didn’t want to hear how Phil tried to talk Wilbur down, like Tommy and Quackity had to do so many times.

Tommy wasn’t Wilbur, though. He didn’t need to put on a show to light some TNT.

What are you waiting for?

He lit the fuse and ran back out into the storm.

His nerves were still raw from the lightning, his head still throbbing from being thrown, but he braced himself for one more explosion. He ran to a safe distance and covered his ears, crouching to stay low to the ground. He could only run so far with the few seconds he had before the TNT exploded, but he could at least stop himself from getting thrown again.

Anticipation was Tommy's worst enemy. He knew the explosion was coming, and he still flinched. His breath still caught in his throat as he closed his eyes, trying not to think too much about obsidian walls or older brothers or porcelain masks.

Shrapnel cut into the exposed part of his arm, a few embers burning through the back of his shirt as the Community House was destroyed. There was officially no undoing what he’d done, destroying one of the oldest builds on the server, one of the most important and beloved sites in the whole SMP.

But if Dream was going to play dirty, then so was Tommy.

Thunder rumbled again, somewhere in the distance, and Tommy only shuddered minutely at the sound. He opened his eyes once the ground beneath him stopped shaking and stood on unsteady feet. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he was stumbling, pulling the Axe of Peace out of his inventory to lean on for support.

He used to be able to do this for days on end, he used to be able to fight wars like it was his job–because it was –and now he was exhausted from… nothing. He didn’t even fight. His time with Sam had made him weak, and part of him was angry at his own weakness.

Part of him wanted to cry, because maybe that weakness wasn’t such a bad thing, and he probably just ruined his chances. Tommy stared at the ruins of the Community House and felt sick, realizing Sam would care about this just as much as Dream did. Sam was one of the original eight.

Sam was Dream’s friend before he was Tommy’s, and he’d just destroyed something so, so important to the server’s history. Tommy glared at the smoldering ruins, blinking the rainwater out of his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to lose Sam’s support, but he was preparing himself for it, anyway.

The worst part was that he didn’t even regret it. Sam could hate him for this, and Tommy wouldn’t even blame him, but if he could go back to five minutes before, when the Community House was still standing, he still would have destroyed it. Anything to get Dream’s attention. Anything to get Tubbo back.

Anything to take the anger that made a home in his chest and get it out.

“Tommy?”

It was embarrassing that he flinched at his own name. It wasn’t even said with any malice or resentment or anger, like he might have heard from Dream or Wilbur, but he still flinched. It was almost too quiet to be trusted, too soft and kind in the presence of a destroyed monument and the kid that destroyed it. 

And Tommy knew what he’d see when he turned around because there was only one person who said his name like that anymore. He’d see something warm and green, like the Christmas tree that Puffy had left for him. Dappled, like the leaves of a sunlit tree canopy, mottled every shade of green he could imagine.

Maybe Tommy’s pretentious poet of a brother had rubbed off on him, after all. At least a little bit. He could have just as easily said green like a creeper and it’d have been just as accurate.

Tommy took a breath, then two, swallowed back the bitterness in his throat and turned. Red eyes stared back at him, wide with confusion and something like hurt. He almost swore that he saw a flash of yellow somewhere behind the creeper hybrid, but he couldn’t make himself focus on it with Sam in his line of sight.

He expected Sam to shout. He had mentally prepared himself for any insult Sam could throw his way. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard it all before, it just- it’d hurt more, coming from Sam, and Tommy tried to brace himself for the inevitable. Tommy had warned Sam before, that he’d eventually come to hate the teenager he housed, and being proven right wasn’t going to feel very good.

He’d expected a lot of things. The quiet, “What happened?” wasn’t one of them.

For a moment, the only sound between them was the rain. Tommy was grateful for it, otherwise he’d have to fill a silence, and the only way he knew how to do that was with harsh words and anger.

If Sam were anyone else, Tommy would shout. If it were Sapnap or Quackity, Tommy would curse until his throat was raw. If it were Ranboo, he’d hurl words in any direction just to make sure he was heard. If he had the energy, maybe he’d have shouted curses anyway, Sam or not. Maybe it would have made him feel better.

But Tommy was tired, and it was Sam, and it was raining, and-

“Dream took Tubbo,” was all he could say, and he could only hope that was enough of an answer.

Notes:

Me: I'm not gonna make this chapter super long, and I'm gonna get it out super fast.
Ten pages and 5000 words later: a.

Anyway, sorry the chapters have been coming so slow lately. I've done that thing I was afraid I was gonna do and absolutely burnt myself tf out. I have plans for this fic all the way through the sort-of-official end of Tommy and Wilbur's DreamSMP lore (Inconsolable Differences). Like, it's planned. In my brain. I just don't know if I'm going to be able to write another 50 chapters, which sucks, 'cause I really, *really* want to.

I will for sure be writing the Final Disc war. The story will have an *ending*, it's just not going to be the one I expected when I first started writing this a year ago. If I ever do decide to continue the story after the Final Disc war, it'll probably be a whole new fic--like, the part two of a series--that way this fic doesn't have 100 chapters.

There might *possibly* be other fics in the works after this. Mayhaps some basic bitch Superhero AU, but we'll have to see. I really want to keep writing for this fandom, because it's an awesome fucking fandom, but ya boi is just a teeny bit tired, lmao.

Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. I know it's not the best, but my brain is going to explode if I look at it for any longer than I already have. You get Sam POV next time, which is probably not going to be particularly action-packed, and (hopefully) won't take me another month to write.

Drink water. Consume sustenance. Use the sleeps. Take care of yourselves <3

Chapter 58: Passive Action

Notes:

Ghostbur and Sam never held a conversation in canon and that is a CRIME, these two are so interesting.

Also, this chapter might be a little bit of a mess, idk. i kinda can't tell, i got small brain going on rn

Sam missed when things were simple. He missed when the only thing he had to worry about was whatever build got destroyed that day. That used to be his whole purpose on the server; he fixed the things other people broke. Admittedly, it was mostly Sapnap and George doing the breaking.

It wasn’t like he minded, though. Sam liked to fix things.

Then the things that broke became less about the builds and more about the people. And people were a lot harder to fix than houses. It started with a drug van, two discs, and a bitter rivalry. That was all it took to divide a server. Sam had to wonder if any of them were actually as close as they thought they were, if something so stupid could split hem all up.

He joined the Badlands to be a neutral party. Not that Bad or Skeppy or Antfrost were particularly neutral, they just wanted to cause chaos wherever they could. But they weren’t on anyone’s side, really, and that was about as close to neutrality as Sam was going to get. Besides, they were all kind of busy with the weird Egg they’d found underground. Sam didn’t really have to do anything except let everyone wear themselves out with the fighting.

Except that didn’t happen. Things just got worse. Betrayals and explosions, elections and exiles, duels and kids–actual children –dying because nobody could just shut up and mind their own business. Everybody had to be involved with everyone else’s business, and Sam just didn’t get it.

Why did Wilbur care so much about sticking it to Dream, when he could have just made a small community with his friends and called it a day? Why did Dream care so much about destroying L’Manburg, when he wouldn’t even bat an eye at the Badlands? Why were either one of them so ready to sacrifice anything or anyone?

Sam didn’t understand. More than that, he just didn’t care. He didn’t want to be involved with the fights, so he wasn’t. Even when Techno confronted him and Bad about destroying L’Manburg, telling them that he’d turn it into a crater, Sam just hadn’t cared enough.

But…

Maybe Sam didn’t care about the wars, but he wasn’t heartless. If Wilbur and Dream wanted a war, fine. Tommy and Tubbo, on the other hand,  really didn’t deserve to be dragged into the fight. Granted, they weren’t toddlers, they were capable of making the decision to leave, but…

Tommy was just so desperate to be useful, and Tubbo was just so desperate to have purpose. Wars made soldiers out of kids who wanted to be needed, because that was the only way people kept them around. It wasn’t fair. Nothing on the server was particularly fair, but this, these kids on their last life trying to appease adults that didn’t care enough, was something Sam couldn’t stand. 

So if Sam went on a mining trip with Tubbo, that was his business, and had nothing to do with preparing Tubbo for the next war looming on the horizon. And maybe he did spend an afternoon launching Tommy into the air with TNT, letting the teenager shoot at him with arrows for ‘target practice’. Because, neutrality be damned, it was nice to hear those kids laugh.

It probably made him a little less than neutral, when he offered Tommy the spare room in his house. It wasn’t really neutral to offer his home to someone exiled, especially not when two of his roommates were on the opposite side of the war. He told himself that it didn’t really count as long as he wasn’t fighting. He was still neutral as long as he didn’t fight anyone’s war.

Tommy, though… Tommy wasn’t like Sam. Tommy didn’t have the luxury of staying out of fights. He couldn’t walk away like Sam could. Tommy was hard-wired to be loyal the same way Sam was hard-wired to build. And if that loyalty meant that Tommy had to fight, then that’s what Tommy would do, whether he wanted to or not.

The sound of his front door closing was a damning sound. He and Sapnap had stayed in his workroom for an eternity before the blaze hybrid finally spoke. “I can’t.”

Sam nodded. “I know.” It was hard sometimes to play no active role in the fights that happened around the server. Nothing that happened was ever Sam’s fault, but that never stopped guilt from pooling in his stomach at the thought of Tommy and Tubbo fighting.

“No, I mean-” Sapnap ran a hand over his face. “I can’t stay here and do nothing.”

“I thought you were staying out of the fight,” Sam protested, and he wasn’t sure why he did. “You said-”

Sapnap’s brow furrowed. “My friends are worth more than my neutrality.” Sam opened his mouth to speak. “Tommy told me that,” Sapnap interjected. “What kind of sixteen year old says that shit, huh? And it’s true.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, I want Quackity safe, right? What if he dies today and I wasn’t there?”

Sam hesitated. “That wouldn’t… be your fault,” he said. “That’d be Dream’s fault. Or Technoblade’s.” And it’d probably at least be partially Quackity’s own fault for trying to kill Dream and Technoblade in the first place. He hated to say that about Quackity, someone he was so close to, but it was true.

“It wouldn’t make him any less dead,” Sapnap bit out. “Just because it wouldn’t be my fault, doesn’t-” He huffed out an agitated breath, wisps of smoke escaping into the air. “I guess Tommy was right,” he said, “you just don’t get it.”

“Sapnap, I don’t get involved in these things,” Sam protested. “I can’t.” Because Tommy deserved one person in his life that wasn’t out looking for a fight. Sam hated fighting, he hated that fighting was all Tommy knew, and he didn’t want to be the next person Tommy had to associate with violence.

Sapnap rolled his eyes. “Alright, you know what?” He pushed himself away from the workbench he’d been leaning on and stood to his full height. “You can figure this out yourself.” He started for the door, pausing only to give Sam a glare. “You better hope this war doesn’t take Tommy's third canon life, Sam. You don’t get a second chance if it does.”

Sam didn’t even get a chance to reply before Sapnap was swinging the workshop door open and slamming it shut again. And Sam wanted to follow, just like he wanted to follow Tommy, but…

Being neutral was hard sometimes. There were rules about these kinds of things, and- maybe not real rules. They were enforced by no one but Sam himself, but it made sense. He needed to be a safe place for Tommy. He needed to be a third party, and that meant not being involved. It meant not choosing sides. He couldn’t fight for L’Manburg, just like he couldn’t fight for Manburg or Pogtopia or the Badlands or El Rapids.

He just couldn’t, even if he really wanted to.

And if Tommy wanted to get involved, if Tommy wanted to fight, then… what? Where did that leave Sam? He didn’t want to fight, he didn’t want to lose Tommy. He had rules, and didn’t know what to do.

Sam sighed and went looking for Fran. That was pretty much his go-to for any stressful situation.  Comfort in the shape of a sleeping dog lounging in the living room.

When in doubt, Fran it out. That was… his catchphrase, definitely. It was definitely a thing he said.

It sounded like a thing Tommy would say.

He desperately wanted his brain to shut up.

Fran greeted him happily as he walked into the living room, tail thumping against the floor. “Hey, girl,” Sam greeted, moving to sit on the floor next to her. “Been a wild couple of days.” He reached over and gently scratched behind her ears. “Bet you’re just waiting for Tommy to come home, huh?”

All he got in response was Fran’s head in his lap, brown eyes peering up at him expectantly. Her tail brushed against the floor in a hopeful wag, as if Tommy would reappear. As if saying Tommy’s name would summon him, somehow.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I wish he was here, too.”

This was exactly the thing he didn’t want to happen. He suggested giving Techno a trial specifically so that this war didn’t happen, and so Tommy wouldn’t have a reason to fight again. But Quackity and Tubbo were just so determined for Techno to pay for his crimes.

Sam supposed he couldn’t really blame them, though. Quackity and Tubbo had their share of traumas, and if Sam was understanding of impulsive, self-destructive Tommy, then he could be understanding of Quackity and Tubbo, too. There were reasons for them being the way that they were, and making the decisions they made. Even if Sam didn’t like it, or condone it, he understood it.

Sometimes he wished he was a little bit more like them. He wished he was more willing to start fights. Sam would rather be a shield than a sword, but Tommy had never been very fond of shields. The teenager would sooner be someone’s shield than use one.

“What am I supposed to do?” Sam asked Fran uselessly.

Fran didn’t have an answer for him, but even if she did, it would have been interrupted by the knock on the door.

“Sapnap?” Sam called. Confused, he stood and started for the door. “Is that you?” Pressing the button to open his door, he briefly wished he hadn’t made it so fortress-like. It really was loud, and a little slow to open. It seemed especially slow when Sam was impatient. “Did you forget something, or-”

“Yes!” a voice replied, the door finally opening enough to reveal a yellow sweater that decidedly didn’t belong to Sapnap. “I tend to do that a lot, you know.”

Sam blinked. The eyes were a haunting blue, but the voice was still unmistakable “Ghostbur,” he greeted, “hey, uh… did you need something?” He had mixed feelings about Ghostbur. He didn’t dislike the spirit, but the presence was unnerving to say the least.

Ghostbur’s eyes crinkled, a friendly smile gracing his features. “I came to see Tommy! Techno's busy today and I'm bored” he said. “Tommy has been staying here, right? I meant to visit sooner, but I… well, I forgot.” He leaned to the side a bit to peek around Sam. “Is he inside?

“No, he’s- Tommy went to L’Manburg.” Sam studied Ghostbur for a moment. “You’ve been hanging around Phil and Technoblade, right?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you already know about-”

“Oh, Techno did mention something about going to L’Manburg earlier,” Ghostbur interrupted. “Maybe they’re having another festival.” Ghostbur’s gaze drifted a bit. “Tommy’s always liked festivals. And parties. He threw a party in Logstedshire. I missed it, but I’m sure it was great.”

Sam frowned. “Ghostbur, no one showed up to-”

“Why aren’t you at the party, Sam?” Ghostbur interrupted. Again. “We should both go, actually! We could surprise Tommy.”

“Ghostbur, there’s a war going on in L’Manburg right now,” Sam said firmly. “There’s no party.”

The spirit’s blue eyes sharpened for a moment. “You said Tommy went to L’Manburg,” his voice was soft as ever, nearly echoing on the breeze, but there was an accusatory bite to it. “There’s a war, and…” The haze overtook Ghostbur’s eyes again. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken? Phil said Tommy has been staying out of fights. He wouldn’t go to L’Manburg if there was a war going on.”

“Wha- are you serious? Yes, he would,” Sam spluttered. “He’s Tommy. This is literally the most Tommy-like thing, ever.” He ran a hand over his face. “I just- aren’t you his brother? You should know this! Tommy runs headfirst into every fight, because-”

“But he’s not supposed to.”

“I know he’s not supposed to!” Sam exclaimed, growing more exasperated with the ghost the longer the conversation dragged on. He’d never really talked to Ghostbur before, and he hated to admit that he’d almost rather deal with Wilbur. “I’m the one who got Tommy to stop throwing himself into every fight, I-”

Ghostbur tilted his head. “You did?” he asked. Innocently, of course, because it was Ghostbur, but it still felt like a taunt. “Then… why is he going to L’Manburg?”

Sam threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know! Because no one stopped him?”

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

It was like talking to a toddler. A really tall, incredibly forgetful toddler. “You of all people should know how hard it is to stop Tommy from doing something once he’s set his mind to it.” Sam leaned against the door frame. “I don’t even know why I’m having this conversation.”

“I think I’m going to see Tommy,” Ghostbur said lightly. “If Tommy isn’t here, then I’ll just go see him in L’Manburg.”

Sam stared at him incredulously. “Did you- were you not listening? There is a war going on.” Wilbur hadn’t been a fighter. And if Wilbur hadn’t been a fighter, Sam couldn’t imagine how incompetent Ghostbur would be on the battlefield.

Ghostbur laughed. “Oh, come on now, Sam,” he teased. “We both know I’m just going to… I won’t remember that part.”

And he wouldn’t, Sam realized with starling clarity. It didn’t really matter how many times Sam told Ghostbur about the war, the spirit wasn’t going to remember. This wasn’t like Tommy, when he could just carefully explain through the confusion. Ghostbur just wasn’t gonna get it.

He also realized that it wasn’t going to stop Ghostbur, either. The spirit was still going to go to L’Manburg, even though he’d forget the danger halfway there, and he’d walk right into a battlefield with no preparation, and…

Tommy went to L’Manburg because he couldn’t bear to lose Tubbo. Sam couldn’t imagine what would happen if he lost his brother a second time. Even if Ghostbur was some… hollowed out, cheerful shell of Wilbur, Tommy still loved him.

Ghostbur continued to stare at him, that eerie, ever-present smile still playing on the corners of his mouth. For a moment, Sam was confused. Ghostbur said he was going to L’Manburg, but he was still in the doorway, giving Sam an oddly expectant look. Almost like he was waiting for Sam to…

Huh.

He was waiting for Sam to come with him. And the thing was, Sam was tempted.

Sam didn’t... this wasn’t fighting, exactly. This was stopping someone defenseless from walking into a battlefield. Tommy, at the very least, knew the danger he was waking into, and was prepared for it. It was the only small consolation Sam had about letting the teenager go. But Ghostbur didn’t, and Sam wasn’t sure if he could let the spirit go to L’Manburg in good conscience.

Not that his conscience had felt particularly light, letting Tommy go, but…

“Well?” Ghostbur asked, and if Sam didn’t know any better, he’d almost say that it was cheeky. “Aren’t you coming?” He could almost believe Ghostbur was doing it on purpose. Like he’d intentionally given Sam a reason to visit L’Manburg.

And Sam didn’t really have it in him to turn the offer down.

“Fine,” Sam said, glancing back to make sure Fran was still content laying in the floor. “I’ll come with you to L’Manburg. Just to make sure you don’t get yourself killed again.” And to make sure Tommy was safe. Because Sam couldn’t fight, didn’t want to be more involved in the war than he had to be, but he still wanted Tommy safe, more than anything.

Ghostbur hummed. “Well, I’m not sure if I can die again.”

“I’d rather not find out,” Sam replied. Stepping out of the house and pressing the button to close the door. “Tommy would be devastated if he found out you got killed, or whatever the equivalent is for you.” Sam could handle a lot of things, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing Tommy that hurt.

A quiet, pesky thought reminded him that Tommy could be hurt, anyway. Tommy could die, and Sam would have just let him go. Did it matter that Tommy was aware of the danger? Did it matter that Tommy knew better and Ghostbur didn’t? Tommy could still get hurt, and Sam barely did the bare minimum to stop him.

“I wished I would have brought Friend,” Ghost said absently, already walking in the direction of L’Manburg. “Phil insists that I keep him in the pen with Carl, though.”

Sam followed after him. “Friend?” he asked. “Carl?”

“My sheep!” Ghostbur explained cheerfully. “He keeps Techno’s horse company.”

“Hm.”

“I think Carl is a nice name for a horse,” Ghostbur continued. “It’s incredibly ordinary, but in a charming sort of way.” He grinned. “Tommy gives his animals ordinary names, too. People names. It’s interesting to meet a cow called Harold. Tommy was always good at naming things.”

Tommy. Sam promptly tuned out whatever else Ghostbur had to say and focused on what the hell he was going to say to the kid.

What did Sam say to Tommy, after making it explicitly clear that he was going to let the teenager do this himself? He’d told himself he wasn’t going to be so overbearing, he’d let Tommy make his own choices, even if he didn’t like them. Tommy could go fight, if that was what he really, really wanted, and Sam was supposed to be his safehouse when he was done.

If Tommy even accepted the safety in the first place, which he usually didn’t. Even the night Sam found him outside the house, Tommy had almost bolted, despite the fact that he so desperately needed help. The whole problem made his head hurt. How did he protect someone who refused a shield?

“You know, Tommy used to sing to the plants outside the Camarvan,” Ghostbur rambled on, seemingly oblivious to Sam ignoring him. “I caught him singing Hallelujah to the flowers, once. It inspired me to write the country’s anthem.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not sure if I ever told him that, but he still knew.”

“Well, Tommy’s a smart kid,” Sam said, only half paying attention. He squinted up at the sky, spotting dark clouds on the horizon. That was a little concerning, but not unwelcome. It’d make fighting hard, but it could help put out a few fires.

“And he’s good at naming things,” Ghostbur added.

Sam nodded. “So you’ve said.”

“That’s what he named the trident, by the way,” Ghostbur said. “Hallelujah. He’s not usually so poetic with the way he names weapons, that was always more my thing-”

“He named what?” Sam snapped back into focus, tearing his gaze away from the incoming rain. “A trident?”

Ghostbur hummed. “The trident you helped him make,” he clarified. “He named it Hallelujah, because he wanted it to be meaningful. It’s special to him.”

Something in Sam’s chest ached, soared, because the trident they made together was special. Tommy named it something meaningful. “Did he-” Sam cleared his throat, “did he say why?”

“Well, I’m not sure why he named it after a song,” Ghostbur said. “He never really explained.” He traced a hand over the bark of a nearby tree. “But he said it was special because you gave it to him.” He gave Sam a smile. “He thinks pretty highly of you, Sam.”

Sam couldn’t fathom why. He genuinely couldn’t think of a reason Tommy would put Sam on any kind of pedestal. Sam hadn’t done anything particularly great, aside from a few builds. There were no wars won in Sam’s name, no battles fought. Sam was… he was just Sam. He was just the hermit builder, living alone in a bunker with his dog.

What could Tommy possibly admire about him? Tommy, the co-founder of a country, a child soldier, and even a vice-president, at one point, treasured some trident that Sam made? Enough to name it after the song that inspired his home country’s anthem?

“We’re getting close to L’Manburg,” Ghostbur said suddenly. Or maybe not so suddenly. It was entirely possible that Ghostbur had been talking, and Sam had just tuned him out again. “I can see the Prime Path from here, I-” The spirit halted.

It was sudden enough that Sam actually continued a few steps before stopping himself. “Ghostbur?”

Ghostbur looked up worriedly. “That doesn’t look good.”

“What-” Sam looked up at the sky, following Ghostbur’s gaze to the same gray clouds that Sam had spotted earlier. They had darkened considerably, either because of the impending rain or the smoke that had started rolling in from L’Manburg’s direction. Probably both.

A raindrop hit Sam right between the eyes with almost comedic timing. The ground rumbled beneath their feet. It was either thunder or it was explosions, neither of which sounded like a good thing.

“Alright, let’s go.” Sam wasn’t going to get involved in the war, he wasn’t, but he was already there, so, “We need to find Tommy.” He could do that, at least. That was what he did. He went and he checked on Tommy, like he did in Pogtopia and Logstedshire.

“Tommy,” Ghostbur said. “Right, we were looking for Tommy.” He smiled, a fond, brotherly thing. “We were going to surprise him at the party.”

Sam knew there wasn’t a point in correcting Ghostbur. Still, “There’s not a party happening in L’Manburg.” He said, starting in the direction of L’Manburg, assuming the ghost would follow. “I don’t know why you think there’s a party-”

“I hear fireworks,” Ghostbur chirped.

“You hear TNT.”

Ghostbur made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t like TNT. Neither does Tommy, really.” He fiddled with the hems of his sleeves while they walked. As the rain started coming down harder “Why would Tommy go to L’Manburg if there was TNT?”

It probably wasn’t fair to be annoyed. Sam was painfully aware that Ghostbur wasn’t being oblivious on purpose, but it was still difficult. “Let’s just find him and make sure he’s okay.” He pulled out his communicator. “I’ll see if he can meet us at the-”

“I think I have to go.”

Sam stopped walking. “What?” He whirled around to face Ghostbur, who was trailing off the path a bi and into the treeline. “I thought you wanted to see Tommy.”

“I did,” Ghostbur said. “I do, I just…” He shrugged uselessly. “I don’t really like the rain, and-” The sound of a distant explosion cut him off. They were close to L’Manburg, Sam could just barely make out a grid hovering over the country. “It’ll… ruin the fireworks.”

“So, you’re just leaving?” Sam asked. “Ghostbur, I- listen, there really isn’t a party over there,” he stressed. “Tommy could be in danger.”

Ghostbur hugged his arms. “You could check on him,” Ghostbur suggested. “That’s why you came along, right? We were checking on Tommy?”

“Yeah, we,” Sam said. “I wasn’t going to follow Tommy here until you showed up at the house. I was making sure you didn’t die trying to find him.”

“Couldn’t you also be here to check on Tommy?” Ghostbur protested weakly. “You seem worried, Sam. You should... you should check on him.”

“You should check on him!” Sam exclaimed. “You should- you should have! A long time ago.” He was taking a page out of Tommy’s book: deflecting, projecting, drowning in anger. The worst part was that he was aware. “I was the only one telling him not to fight a war. The only one who offered him a safe place to hide.”

Ghostbur’s smile faltered. “I want to,” he said slowly. “I don’t… I don’t want Tommy to fight.” He took a couple steps back, shielding himself under a tree as the rain came down harder. “I would talk to him, if I could, but I can’t.” He shrugged. “If you told me Tommy was fighting, I would forget. I can’t tell him not to fight if I don’t know that he is.”

“But-”

“I can’t.” Ghostbur said, his voice cracking as lightning began to flash in the distance. “I’m going to forget that Tommy’s in trouble as soon as I walk away.” Eerie blue eyes darted up to meet Sam’s gaze. “I want to do something, but I can’t. You can do something, but you won’t, and-” Ghostbur’s brow furrowed. “And…” Frustration flashed in his eyes, before settling into confusion. “What were we talking about?”

Sam could hardly breathe around the weight of Ghostbur’s words crushing his chest. “You were… telling me that you want to see Tommy.” You can do something, an echo of Ghostbur seethed, but you won’t.

Thunder rumbled, distracting Ghostbur temporarily. “Hm… well, I probably shouldn’t do that while it’s raining.” He turned back to Sam, grinning brightly. “This is the way to L’Manburg,” he noted. “Is Tommy in L’Manburg? I thought he was staying with you.”

“He just-” Sam struggled with the phrasing for a moment. “Tommy’s just… visiting.”

Why couldn’t Sam do anything? Why wouldn’t he? Because of self-imposed rules? Could he not break them if he was judge, jury, and executioner? How selfish must he seem to Ghostbur, to have he ability to help, yet choose to stay on the sidelines?

Ghostbur clapped his hands together. “Is he finally going to see Tubbo?” he asked hopefully. “They really ought to visit more often, best friends and all.”

“Yeah,” Sam muttered, “I-” Whatever he was going to say was drowned by a sudden noise. Sam may have not been a war veteran, but he knew an explosion when he heard it. The sound made him freeze, words lodged in his throat.

The explosion was so much closer than the others he'd been hearing. It was far too close to have come from L’Manburg, shaking the ground worse than the thunder. Surprisingly, Ghostbur moved before Sam did. “That came from the Community House,” he said, darting out into the rain.

Sam took off after Ghostbur, concern settling like a rock in his stomach. It was an eerily accurate assumption of where the explosion was. He briefly wondered how Ghostbur managed to parse that out with all the rain and thunder happening around them.

Then again, he supposed it did make sense. If anyone was going to know about TNT, it’d be Wilbur’s hollow shell, Sam just hoped that Tommy wasn’t in the aftermath again. No death message for Tommy had shown up, but that didn’t make him any less afraid.

At the sight of flames, both Ghostbur and Sam screeched to a halt, Ghostbur backpedaling a few steps to stay shielded by the trees. His bright, blue eyes were wide and searching. “Tommy,” he breathed, barely audible over the howling wind. “Tommy.”

And the ghost was right. Just outside the blast radius, barely visible through the rain and smoke, highlighted only by fire, was Tommy, dragging himself to his feet with the help of an axe. Techno’s axe by the look of it. Definitely stolen from Eret.

Sam couldn’t even find it in him to be mad. He probably should have been. Tommy was standing in front of the ruins of the Community House, one of the most important builds on the server, and all Sam could feel was an overwhelming relief.

“I have to go,” Ghostbur said quietly, his voice hauntingly hollow. “I… can’t be here.”

For a second, Sam could see something achingly human in the spirit’s eyes. He saw a poet worthy of history books. A man so desperate to save a brother he couldn’t really help. Ghostbur was going to walk away and forget this. He’d forget that Tommy needed help. And Sam, just for a heartbreaking moment, could see how absolutely terrified that made him.

Sam had the luxury of being able to help. He could and he didn’t. Ghostbur had to walk away whether he wanted to or not. He simply wasn’t capable of doing anything else.

“I’ll take care of him,” Sam assured Ghostbur, hoping to offer the spirit any small comfort he could before this memory was stolen away. “You can go. I’ll take care of Tommy, okay?”

Ghostbur blinked. “You…” He smiled warmly. “Of course, you will, Sam.” His eyes fluttered for a moment, a raindrop catching his lashes. “I really must be going now.” Water trailed down his face, steam rising off the translucent skin. “The rain, you know, it’s-” Ghostbur’s smile faltered for a moment, like he couldn’t find the words he wanted to say. “I don’t like the rain,” he settled on.

“I remember Tommy saying something about that,” Sam said. “The water hurts, right?”

“Yeah,” Ghostbur replied. “The water.”

They shared another moment of silence, then Sam started for Tommy. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, Sapnap’s words ringing in his ears. Tommy wouldn’t be here if Sam had been less of a coward.

“Tommy,” he called, and he could see the teenager flinch.

Dull eyes turned to him slowly, alight with anger and a devastation that Sam couldn’t even begin to decipher. The hand around Techno’s axe tightened, like Tommy was ready to fight or run or maybe just take whatever was thrown his way.

Somewhere behind him was the faint sound of a ghost disappearing into the treeline. Sam took a breath. “What happened?” he asked as gently as he could over the storm.

Tommy swallowed, looking like he was trying desperately not to cry, his face crumpling under the weight of Sam’s question. The way his eyes flickered and his teeth sank into his cheek would have been nearly imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know Tommy that well.

To Sam, though, it was heartbreaking. He imagined this was exactly why Ghostbur had to leave.

“Dream took Tubbo,” said the boy who lost everything. And Sam decided that neutrality was no longer an option when Tommy’s voice was breaking, when he was struggling to stand upright. “He took my best friend, Sam.” Protecting Tommy meant protecting him always, even if that meant choosing a side. Even if that meant getting involved in the fight.

It’d be hell to get Tubbo back from Dream. It’d be another war, and Sam would do better this time. He'd make sure this was a fight Tommy didn’t have to be part of. Even if that meant he had to fight the admin of the server himself.

Notes:

Ever think about the fact that Sam's detriment in the lore is his absolute inability to deviant from the rules he sets for himself. Everything that happened between him and Ponk, him and Tommy, and even him and Dream, could have been avoided if he loosened up on the rules just a little bit. He had the ability to leave Ponk alone about the key cards, to let Tommy out of the prison, to let Dream in the courtyard every once and a while, he was just unwilling, because--in his mind--it was the right thing to do, above all else. Even if it breaking the rules would be the morally correct thing to do, Sam doesn't, because he holds the standards for himself too high and is oblivious to how much that hurts the people around him, too.

Canonically, when Sam finally reaches a point that he *will* break the rules, the circumstances are too extreme for it to be considered a good, moral thing. He allowed Quackity to torture Dream and he locked Ranboo in the prison, because he didn't know what else to do. None of the rules worked, but he still needed to do whatever he could to keep the server safe.

So I thought, what if he had been confronted by someone who wished that he *could* do something and was completely incapable? Someone who wanted the free will that Sam had to help but actually, physically couldn't do anything to help. Could that make Sam see reason? Make him realize that fighting someone for a good reason was better than being neutral for no reason at all?

I think yes. So now we have Sam and Ghostbur angst. Sam is operating on 100% overprotective mode, baby. He's ready to defend Tommy by any means necessary, even if that means breaking every single rule he has.

Chapter 59: Prove It

Notes:

There is fluff at the end of the chapter. There is FLUFF at the end of this chapter, and it is unnecessarily fluffy fluff.

The fire at Tommy’s back was almost a comfort. It was familiar, at least. And it was far warmer than he expected Sam to be. “He took my best friend, Sam.” And he knew that it didn’t really matter why he destroyed the Community House, but he still hoped to soften the blow a little.

Sam blinked at him. “Dream took Tubbo?”

Tommy’s grip tightened around Techno’s axe. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to stare someone down, knowing you’d pissed them off beyond belief.  And he hated it, hated being scared. Sam’s forgiveness was a luxury Tommy had gotten too used to, this had to be the end of the line, and Tommy so, so afraid.

But Tommy couldn’t afford to be scared–even if Sam looked like he hit hard–so, he did the next best thing. He got mad.

“I burned down the Community House, Sam,” his voice bordered on a shout to be heard over the rain. “I blew it up!” He hoped he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. He hoped he sounded like the angry, belligerent child everyone hated, so that Sam would drop the nice act and just do something.  “I fucking- I stole supplies from Eret and I-”

“No, hold on,” Sam interrupted. “Dream took Tubbo?”

Tommy heaved a frustrated sigh. “Fucking- yes! Dream took Tubbo.” He jabbed the axe at the smoldering building behind him. “And I blew up the Community House!”

Sam frowned. “What?” He looked at the destroyed building as though seeing it for the first time. “That’s not-” He turned back to Tommy. “I don’t care about the Community House, Tommy.”

Something in Tommy’s brain refused to work. “Yes, you do,” he argued, when he should have just been grateful that Sam was still willing to be nice. He should have been happy, and he couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t. “You do care, I know you do!”

“I- okay, I do,” Sam admitted, “but I care more about you more than some building.”

“Why,” Tommy demanded. The building had been around longer. It meant more to the server than Tommy ever did. There were certainly more people who cared about it, at least. Nearly everyone on the server loved the Community House, and Tommy could count the people who cared about him on one hand.

“Because it’s just a building!” Sam exclaimed. “I can rebuild something like this in less than a week! You could help, if you feel that bad about it, I don’t care.” He tried for a more light-hearted tone, Tommy couldn’t see the smile behind Sam’s mask, but the lines of stress around his eyes was telling enough. “I mean, that used to be my whole job, you know? I fix things.”

“You can’t fix this!” Tommy shouted. There was no world in which Sam could swing a pickaxe or lay a block and fix whatever had broken in Tommy’s world.

“But I still want to help,” Sam insisted.

Tommy wanted to keep screaming. He wanted to protest, stubbornly insisting that Sam didn’t care about him. Or, at the very least, he shouldn’t.

Sam was so persistent, though. But if Sam refused to blame Tommy, then Tommy would blame Sam. “You said that I wouldn’t be the next Wilbur,” he accused. He needed someone to blame, and they were the only two people present. “So, what the fuck do you call this?” 

“Tommy, your country got blown up, and your friend just got kidnapped.” He waved a hand at the Community House. “This- this is nothing compared to what Wilbur did! Okay?” Sam held out a hand, reaching for him, maybe, or offering reassurances. Either way, Tommy took a step back. “Tommy, really, this is nothing. It’s a problem we can solve later, I just want to focus on helping you right now.”

And Tommy still didn’t understand. Sam saved Tommy from exile and held his hand through the most basic shit. Sam hid Tommy from Dream and walked him to the courthouse so he didn’t have to go to Techno’s trial alone, and  Tommy had never even asked him to!

Nothing that Sam had said or done would argue that he didn't want to help. It didn’t make the rising unease any easier. Maybe it was the smell of smoke or the sting of gunpowder, or the memories that came with them, but Tommy just couldn’t make himself believe that Sam was safe.

Nothing felt safe when destruction clung to his clothes and burned his skin. Sam’s crimson gaze shone like lit TNT, his promises like a familiar song played on broken guitar strings. The more Tommy tried to convince himself that Sam wasn’t lying, the more it sounded like his own voice echoing off the walls of Pogtopia.

“No,” Tommy muttered. “I’m- I gotta go.”

Sam’s eyes were pleading. It was almost enough to make Tommy feel bad. “Tommy, could you just talk to-”

“I’m done talking, Sam!” Tommy snapped, trying to step around Sam. “I need to go after Dream and get my friend back, so if you don’t mind-”

“Uh- I do mind,” Sam moved to block Tommy’s path. “You are absolutely not going after Dream.”

Tommy sputtered for a moment. “You can’t- get out of my fucking way, Sam.” He tried again to maneuver around Sam. Which was pointless, he knew. It’s not like he even knew where to look for Dream, and there was no way he could get around Sam, anyway. The creeper hybrid was bigger and a hell of a lot stronger than Tommy was. He didn’t even have the advantage of speed, given the exhaustion that wracked his frame.

Still, he was angry. He needed to run, because it was the only thing he knew how to do, other than fight wars that weren’t his. But this war was his, and Sam was very stubbornly not letting him fight it.

“Move!” he tried again, this time raising Techno’s axe in a half-hearted attempt at a threat. “I don’t need your pity, Sam!”

“It’s not pity, Tommy, I thought we were past that!” They were past it, was the frustrating thing. Tommy wasn’t sure when it was, exactly, that he had stopped believing that what Sam did was out of pity, but he did. Some time after Techno’s trial, maybe.

He still remembered the way Sam pressed a pickaxe into his hand and waited until his anger was a pile of cobbled stone. Then waited again while Tommy hid in crumbling walls, even though he could have just as easily left Tommy to his misery.

That was what did it, he was pretty sure. Knowing that Sam was willing to wait for him. Not in the impatient way that everyone else just… expected him to get over himself. Sam just waited. Pity was never so patient, in Tommy’s experience, and that meant Sam cared.

But it all still felt like a trap, somehow.

“I don’t believe you,” is what he said instead, every word like ash on his tongue.

Sam looked desperate. “Tommy, please,” he said gently, so softly that it wavered in places, “I just want to help.”

The silence between them was broken only by the sound of the Community House burning. Even the rain seemed to be letting up a bit, giving Tommy a better view of Sam’s distressed eyes. “Then what the fuck do you want me to do?” he demanded.

“I just-”

“You don’t want me to go after Dream.” He gestured behind him. “I blew up the Community House and you just- you don’t care.” Techno’s axe disappeared into his inventory. He wasn’t entirely confident that Sam wouldn’t still turn on him, but he was certain enough to put the weapon away, at least.

Besides, Tommy was tired and injured. If Sam ever did remember how to be angry, Tommy wouldn’t have enough fight left in him to do much about it.

But Sam didn’t look angry. Or act angry. Sam didn’t actually do much of anything, except stare at Tommy and the Community House. Tommy could maybe accept the fact that Sam wasn’t angry, but he couldn’t stand the fact that Sam was doing nothing at all.

“For fuck’s sake, Sam!” Tommy exclaimed, though there was very little heat or energy behind it. Most of the heat and energy he had went into destroying a monument. “Could you just do something-”

“I want to adopt you.”

There wasn’t a lot that could shock Tommy into silence, especially not after a day where so much had already happened. Surely, nothing could top L’Manburg being destroyed, Tubbo being kidnapped, and almost getting struck by lightning.

Yet, there Sam stood, having uttered the most ridiculous sentence Tommy had ever heard. “What?”

Sam, to his credit, seemed to realize how ridiculous the statement was at the same time Tommy did. It was a spur of the moment string of words. Sam might have said anything to calm Tommy down. “Wait, I just-

“What?”

“No, I didn’t mean-” Sam huffed. “Well, I do mean it, but I didn’t mean to say it right now.”

Tommy balked. “Hang on!” The only thing more ridiculous than Sam saying it and not really meaning it was Sam saying and meaning it wholeheartedly. “No, you can’t just say that-”

“I know!” Sam protested. “But I just-” His brow furrowed. “No, I can say that, actually. I want to.” He crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit as petulant as Tommy felt. “I want to adopt you. I’m saying it.”

“But you- I just-” Tommy stammered. “Well, you shouldn’t say it right now.” There was an emotion attached to this… whatever was happening, but it was hard to place. It was one thing to offer Tommy a safehouse, it was another thing entirely to make it a permanent deal.

Sam shrugged. “Well, I already said it. Guess we’re both doing things we shouldn’t do today.” Tommy didn’t even get a moment to protest before Sam was shoving the conversation in an entirely different direction. “Now, did you take health potions from Erets castle? Because you look like you need one.”

Anger flared in Tommy’s chest. “Fuck you, Sam!” He took a step in Sam’s direction. “You-” The words caught in his throat as he suddenly pitched forward. With no adrenaline to keep him upright and no fear to keep him rooted in place, all Tommy could feel was how tired and injured he was.

“Tommy!” Sam rushed forward, not fast enough to stop Tommy from hitting the ground, but he still fell to his knees at Tommy’s side, hands hovering around trembling shoulders. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No,” Tommy managed. “No, nothing’s fucking okay, Sam, I can’t-”

In the hazy corner of Tommy’s vision, he could see Sam nodding. “Okay, let’s just-” There was a pressure on Tommy’s shoulder. If he had the energy to flinch, he might’ve, but all he could do was lean his weight into the hand steadying him. “Tommy, if you have a potion, you really need to take it.”

Tommy reached into his inventory and pulled out the first blurry thing that felt like glass. It was either health or regen, he couldn’t tell, but it didn’t really matter. Whichever one it was, it felt metallic on his tongue. Like liquid iron poured down his throat.

“Okay, good,” Sam sighed, still half-supporting Tommy’s weight as fresh burns stitched themselves back together, bruises fading and blood drying around his cuts. “Good thing we caught that early, huh? No debris in the wounds.” A gentle hand brushed ash off Tommy’s shoulder. “Not too much, anyway. Not enough that anything will get infected.”

“Not like the last time you patched me up, eh?” Tommy croaked. The rest of his adrenaline petered out alongside his pain. It left him hollow and achingly heavy. “How can I be a dirty crime boy without my grit, Sam?” He took his first clear breath. “Now I'm just a crime boy." Not even his attempts to seem normal, his classic jester act, fell flat with obvious exhaustion.

Sam hummed. “An injured crime boy.” He pulled away from Tommy slightly, letting him sit up on his own. “Feeling better?”

Tommy took a stuttering breath. “I don’t- I don’t know,” he said miserably. “It’s… I’ve had some bombshells dropped on me today,” he tried again for a more casual tone. “Bombs, you know?” He needed to make light of the situation somehow, he couldn’t handle Sam staring at him like he was fragile. “Because-”

“I know,” Sam assured him. “Good joke, just,” red eyes glanced at the scorched remnants of the Community House, “maybe not the best time.”

“Give it a day or two,” Tommy started to pull himself up again, his legs feeling marginally more stable than they did. “It’ll be hilarious in hindsight.”

Sam stood with Tommy, reaching his full height before Tommy did and offering an arm for assistance. “I bet it will.” Tommy smacked his hand away and finished standing, brushing the dirt and ash off his shirt. It didn’t do much good, really. “So… home, then?” Sam asked. “Before someone investigates whatever is happening here?”

Tommy nodded before he could give it a decent amount of thought. “Yeah, that…” sounds nice, got caught somewhere in his throat. “Except, I just- Tubbo is-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Sam reminded him. Tommy wished the glare he sent Sam was just a little more harsh or withering, but it felt hollow with no anger to back it up. “I know you’re worried about Tubbo, but he’ll be okay,” Sam was quick to soothe, and Tommy hated that it kind of worked. “Dream is using Tubbo to get under your skin. He’s got no leverage if he-”

“Don’t fucking say it,” Tommy muttered. “Don’t.”

Sam nodded. “Okay.” He looked to the treeline for a moment. “You know, Ghostbur was here. He walked with me all the way to the Community House.”

Tommy snorted, brushing past Sam to start going home. “Sure, he did,” he muttered. “Let me guess, took off as soon as he heard TNT, yeah?”

“No,” Sam replied. “He started running towards it. Figured out where the explosion was coming from before I could even process what had happened.” He was quiet for a moment. “That ghost really worries about you, you know that?”

“I guess,” Tommy said, more bitterly than he meant to. “I mean, he just… doesn’t remember any of it, you know?” Tommy was positive that was the only reason Dream let Ghostbur stick around so long in the first place. No matter what Ghostbur saw or heard Dream do, he would never remember enough of it to tell anyone else.

It was like dangling hope in front of Tommy’s face. Surely, Ghostbur couldn’t forget forever. Maybe he’d say something, even if it was obscure and vague, and someone else would put the pieces together. Ghostbur was company, which Dream had very rarely allowed, yet the reward still, somehow, felt like torture. He couldn’t even find comfort in the shell of his brother.

“Worrying is just a bit fucking useless,” Tommy bit out, “when you can’t do anything about it.” He gave a sharp exhale. “It’s frustrating when the only people who want to help, can’t.”

Sam hummed. “And the ones who can help just won’t.”

“Right.”

They walked in silence for a moment, the last of the rain lessening to a drizzle. Then Sam cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, by the way,” he said, “for taking so long to get here. I should have been here a lot sooner.” His gaze hardened. “I shouldn’t have… I never should have let you come here alone.”

Tommy watched the ground as he walked. “What made you change your mind?”

“I think Ghostbur helped me set my priorities straight,” Sam replied. “And Sapnap.” He chuckled a bit. "Never thought Sapnap would be the one setting me straight on anything, but here we are.

"What did Ghostbur want?" Tommy asked. There was a time he wanted to shove Ghostbur as far away from him as possible, his grief too raw to look his brother's ghost in the eyes. But he'd come to appreciate the specter as something separate from Wilbur. Not quite his brother, but Wilbur hadn’t quite been his brother either, at the end of everything.

.”He was coming to visit you,” Sam told him. “He said Techno was going to L’Manburg and Phil was… busy, I guess?” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m crazy, but you don’t think it’s a coincidence that Ghostbur showed up the day L’Manburg is going up in flames, do you?”

Tommy ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, probably not? I mean, he does want to help” He tilted his head back to let the last of the rain dot his fire-warmed face. “He remembers that he wants to help, he just doesn’t  remember what he needs to help with.” Brow furrowing, Tommy went back to watching his own footsteps. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I think I get it,” Sam said. “We talked a little on our way to L’Manburg. He was… really insisting that we get to L’Manburg.”

Something like hope made Tommy glance up. “You think, uh… what? That he knew I was in danger?”

“I think he knew something was going on in L’Manburg,” Sam said, “He just didn’t know what. Sort of just kept insisting that it must be a festival or a party.”

“Well, it’s probably the only explanation he’d remember,” Tummy muttered. “Forgetful dickhead.”

Sam nudged his shoulder. “Hey, now. That forgetful dickhead managed to drag me all the way out here. And I’m a pretty hard guy to drag places.” Tommy snorted. “No, really, I think the only person that could is Bad, and he’s too much of a softie, anyway.”

“Ranboo, maybe,” Tommy suggested. “He’s a tall bitch.”

“Tall and lanky.” Sam pointed out. “Ranboo’s half enderman, he’s got the structural integrity of uncooked pasta. That kid’s not dragging me anywhere.”

Tommy laughed, and it was genuine, despite how rough it was around the edges. “Fine, fine,” he relented. “What about… Techno? He’s no giant, but he’s a burly bastard.”

“Okay, maybe Techno could drag me around,” Sam conceded.

“Couldn’t be me,” Tommy replied. “I couldn’t be dragged around by anyone.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" he asked, mischief in his voice and twitching fingers. "I bet I could."

Tommy scoffed. "I bet you couldn't," he taunted, knowing full well Sam could. "As a matter of fact, I'd like to see you try." He really wouldn't. Being dragged around was probably the last thing he needed, actually.

"Nah," Sam replied. "Wouldn't be fair, considering how tired you are."

"Oh, fuck off," Tommy huffed. "I could still take you. I could take you in my sleep."

Sam smiled, his eyes crinkling fondly at the corners. "Sure." He studied Tommy for a moment. "Actually, I've got a way I could prove it."

"What?" Tommy asked. "How?" A few minutes ago, that might have sounded like a threat, but his fear of Sam had curbed somewhat, and now he was just curious.

Without warning, Sam took a knee. Tommy startled to a stop, frowning at the hybrid in concern. But before he could ask what was wrong, Sam said, "Get on."

Tommy blinked. Somewhere in his mind it registered that Sam wanted to give him a piggyback ride. And although it would prove Sam was strong enough to drag Tommy around, the suggestion still left him dumbfounded. "Sam, what the fuck."

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Sam insisted.

"No," Tommy protested. "I'm too big for this shit." He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been carried. He had enough issues being a burden on Sam, he didn’t want to be a literal, physical burden on top of everything he’d already done.

Sam shrugged. "You're not too big for me."

If anyone had seen Tommy hesitate, they'd probably laugh. Big Man, Tommy Innit, Tomathy Danger Kraken Innit, actually considering accepting a piggyback ride. Tubbo would have lost his shit laughing. Wilbur would have called him 'child' for days.

"Just for a little bit," Tommy said slowly, more to himself than Sam. "Just to prove your point."

"Deal."

To Tommy's relief, it wasn't nearly as awkward as he thought it'd be. Before Pogtopia, he and Tubbo used to roughhouse, attempt to carry each other around to determine who was the strongest. It was clumsy as all hell, but this didn’t feel like that. It felt sturdier, more reliable, and not like he was about to topple over at any moment.

As much as he missed his fast-paced, bruise-inducing antics with Tubbo, this was also nice.

He looped his arms around Sam's shoulders, careful not to press against the hybrid's neck. Two gentle hands held Tommy's legs steady. "Hold on," was the only warning he got before Sam was rising to his feet.

"Whoa!" Tommy gripped tighter, caught off guard by the moment of weightlessness. "Whoa, fuck-" Sam started walking briskly, easily, hauling Tommy with him. "Okay, okay! You proved your point."

"Mm-hm," Sam hummed. “And I bet I could keep proving my point, all the way back to the house."

Any other day, he might have started kicking his legs and loudly demanding to be put down. But he was tired, and in no position to turn down a free ride home. Tommy let his forehead bump against the back of Sam's mess of green hair. "Clingy bastard," he mumbled, instead of 'thank you'.

A laugh rumbled, vibrating in Tommy's chest where he rested against Sam. "Okay," he said simply.

They walked in silence for a moment. Rather, Sam walked, and Tommy tried not to fall asleep. It was… surprisingly relaxing, letting himself rest like this, and it didn't make him feel as weak as he thought it would.

Really, the only bothering Tommy was the quiet. Without the constant explosions, rain, and crackling fire, all Tommy had to occupy his time was his thoughts. He bit his lip as the silence allowed the day’s events to come flooding back to him. "Sam," he said quietly, "did you mean what you said earlier?"

"Yep," Sam said without hesitation. Tommy didn't even specify what Sam said, because he’d said a lot, but they both knew what he was talking about. "I meant every word."

Tommy readjusted a bit. "Is it okay if I- if we hold off for a little bit? Because I don't really have an answer." He nestled further into Sam's back. "I just- fucking… I'm thinking about too much."

Sam nodded, his hair brushing against Tommy's face. "I figured. I wanted to wait until everything had died down a little to ask you, but, uh… yeah."

"Then why did you ask today?" Tommy asked. “Things are kinda the fucking opposite of died down, at the moment.”

For a moment, Sam was quiet. Tommy could imagine a thousand ways the conversation could go wrong in just those few quiet seconds. "Because you looked like you were waiting for me to say that I hated you," Sam answered finally, "and I didn't know what I could say to make you believe I don't."

Tommy felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "So you jumped straight to adoption?"

"To be fair, it's been on my mind for a while." Sam adjusted his hold on Tommy, his pace just as steady as ever. "But we don't have to talk about it right now. Let's just focus on getting you home. I'm sure Fran's missing us."

"Yeah," Tommy said, his voice a mere whisper as he let his eyes slip shut. He felt a little guilty, Tubbo was still missing and the Community House was still ruined and he still had Techno's stolen axe in his inventory, but he couldn't bring himself to care all that much. Not with Sam carrying the broken pieces of him like he was something worth holding. "Let's go home."

Notes:

I know I said I wasn't going to take another month to write this chapter, and I am so sorry that it took so long. It's been a rough couple of months. Without going into too much detail, I was in a pretty bad wreck recently, and have been dealing with some issues in the family. My mental health has been, unfortunately, taking a turn for the worst, but 'fuck it, we ball', yknow?

BUT, y'all ain't here for my excuses, so let's talk about the chapter, shall we? Was the ending uncharacteristically fluffy and sweet? Yeah. Do I care? Nah. AweSamDad has my entire heart and soul. The adoption thing is far from resolved, and you bet your ass Tommy is going to be thinking about it nonstop, but he's also going to be thinking about the fact that Tubbo's been kidnapped. So the conversation about the adoption is definitely tabled, but now it's out in the air. Very briefly, Tommy mentioned how his actions resemble Wilbur's in his last moments, which is a huge fear of Tommy's because, more than anything, Tommy doesn't want to be the person that Wilbur was. Sam knows this, which is why he shuts he idea down so fast and so hard. Of all the things Tommy has to worry about at the moment, Sam doesn't want a potential spiral to be one of them. He's also dead fucking serious about not wanting Tommy involved with the incoming fight with Dream. Does that mean Tommy will be 100% uninvolved with the Disc War? I mean, it's Tommy, take a wild guess. But he's definitely going to be in significantly less danger than he was in canon. Sam is not kidding about wanting to take the brunt of Dream's wrath here. AweSamDad is in full swing here, babyyyyy.

I'm debating doing a Ghostbur chapter, just because I think exploring Ghostbur's character and motives from Ghostbur's perspective would be interesting, considering the amnesia factor. I also realize that there's a lot of intense stuff happening in the plot at the moment, and another character building chapter might not be the kind of thing that y'all want to see. If it's not a Ghostbur chapter up next, then it's probably going to be a Sam chapter, his perspective on getting ready the upcoming fight. We'll see how it goes!

Again, so sorry that this chapter took almost two months to get out. I'm not going to promise that the next chapter will be out faster, with everything that's going on in my personal life, but I will promise to try. Thank you for sticking around for so long, I appreciate every single one of y'all <3

Chapter 60: Remembrance

Notes:

Today we tackle the question: "Does Ghostbur really have amnesia or does he just dissociate through all the bad things that happen on the server, and is there really a difference between those two things?" and we don't get a clear answer.

Ghostbur is very dear to me, that forgetful, anxious little bastard. He isn't my most favoritest character, but he's still my little blorbo <3 and I will throw hands for him.

Ghostbur was well aware that he didn’t know a lot of things. He didn’t like to focus on it too much, though. If someone took a handful of puzzle pieces and tossed them in a fire, you didn’t waste time wondering what exactly was on the pieces. You either put the puzzle together without them or you abandoned the puzzle altogether.

Fortunately–unfortunately?--stubbornness was something of Wilbur’s that had stuck around. Ghostbur always tried his best to put the remaining pieces together, hoping that he’d at least get something. Context clues and all that.

It didn’t always work in his favor, but he still liked to try, even if it did leave him with more questions than answers, most of the time. He’d probably feel frustrated about it, if he could ever remember what that felt like. Alivebur had always been a little better at being frustrated or angry, but Ghostbur didn’t mind. He never really liked being angry, anyway.

Well, he assumed that he wouldn’t like being angry. Ghostbur wouldn’t know if he’d like being angry or not, since the closest  he’d ever come to the emotion was when he’d found out Tommy was living in a tent. He was so certain that he’d built a house, remembering it fondly, and he was also certain that he’d offered it to Tommy, happy that he could offer his exiled brother some semblance of a home.

Sometimes, Ghostbur wished his amnesia was really as black and white as everyone made it out to be. Ghostbur forgets everything bad, they’d said, but it wasn’t really that simple. Ghostbur forgot everything that made him angry, made him sad, but he could never quite forget things like concern. An all-encompassing worry that he’d forgotten something.

The fear that his forgetting would get someone hurt.

Anxiety had crushed Ghostbur’s still heart every time he’d visited Logstedshire. He’d been overjoyed, of course, to be spending time with his brother, but nothing ever looked quite right. Tommy had looked so tired all the time. The bags under his eyes kept getting darker, and Ghostbur only remembered because he’d fretted over it the whole way back to L’Manburg.

Where was the house he’d built in Logstedshire? Did Tommy prefer sleeping in a tent? And if he did, then why wasn’t he sleeping well? Was something keeping him awake? Someone?

He was sure he had asked Tommy about it. Why wouldn’t he ask, if he was so concerned? But he could never seem to remember a reason for Tommy’s lack of sleep. Ghostbur couldn’t remember why Tommy slept in a tent, just that he did, and it was worrying.

Part of Ghostbur knew that he’d already been told the answer, maybe multiple times. He just couldn’t remember, because it was something that would have made him upset. It was something that should have made him angry, but it couldn’t, so it drifted away from him.

And lack of sleep aside, Tommy had been injured. Tommy had always been a scarred child, as long as either Wilbur or Ghostbur could remember. Anything from splintered hands and scraped knees to gunpowder burns and arrow wounds, there wasn’t a limb on Tommy not marked by several scars.

There was something different about the scars in Logstedshire, though. They didn’t look like hard-won battle scars or the result of roughhousing with friends, they looked like they hurt, in ways that Ghostbur had long forgotten how to feel. They looked awful. Tommy looked awful, and tired and hurt, and Ghostbur didn’t know why.

Not knowing meant he’d forgotten something. It meant that there could have been something horribly wrong going on in Logstedshire, and he hadn’t done anything about it. The guilt should have eaten him alive, but luckily–or unluckily, really–guilt was one of those things that didn’t stick around very long. By the time Ghostbur realized what he should have been guilty about, Tommy had already escaped.

Still, all he really knew was that Tommy had been hurt in exile. Badly. Everything else was a foggy memory, at best, and a nonexistent one, at worst. Fortunately, Ghostbur wasn't the only one that had visited Tommy. There were people looking out for his little brother, not many, but enough.

Now Tommy had Sam! Which Ghostbur remembered, because it was a good thing that Tommy had Sam. And Sam was… nice? Ghostbur had to assume he was, because he didn't see any reason Tommy would hang around if Sam wasn't nice.

He'd been wrong before, though, which was the really the concerning thing. Dream had seemed nice, too. Everyone did.

Ghostbur would go investigate Sam himself, except that he didn’t actually like to think about Sam too hard. Sam had been a massive help to Tommy, but only because Ghostbur couldn’t be. Should he be grateful that Tommy was finally getting help from someone? Jealous that Sam had managed to give help where he couldn’t? His feelings on Sam were just… a very confusing thing to sort through.

In the end, Ghostbur didn’t really feel one way or the other about Sam. Couldn’t feel one way or the other. All he could feel was relief that Tommy was safe, and the all-consuming fear that he was still forgetting something. Ever cheerful, but never quite happy. A curse, Ghostbur thought. He’d think it bitterly, if he knew how.

… hadn't Sam just been with him?

All at once, Ghostbur became aware that he was walking, and stopped. He was headed in the direction of home, back to Phil and Techno and Friend, but where was he coming from? Where had he just been?

Turning in slow circles, Ghostbur determined that he must’ve just been coming from L’Manburg. It was strange that he’d forget something like that, because most of his visits to L’Manburg were more than pleasant. Hadn’t Techno said he needed to visit L’Manburg? Something about business, Ghostbur remembered distantly. Phil hadn’t seemed too keen on joining him, whatever it was.

But Techno wasn’t going home with Ghostbur, so they must not have arrived in L’Manburg together, either. And that… didn’t make much sense.

After getting lost delivering Tommy’s party invitations, Ghostbur tended not to go places on his own, when he could help it. If he wasn’t with Phil or Techno, then he was usually with Friend, but he didn’t have any of them. If Techno went to L’Manburg, and Ghostbur didn’t go with Techno, then why would he go at all?

Ghostbur ran a hand through his hair–an old habit, his and Wilbur’s–and tried to put his fragmented memories together while he walked. If Tommy had been there, Ghostbur probably would have bounced some thoughts off of him. That was what Wilbur usually did. Tommy had surprisingly good insight on things.

His hand stung as it threaded through his curls, and came away with drops of water sizzling against his skin, which was a surprise. It didn't hurt, really, but his hair was definitely damp, and that was… concerning. And, luckily or unluckily, concern was something that stuck.

It must've rained. He could almost hear thunder, in the distance, somewhere… he was so sure it'd been thunder. Or fireworks? Had there been a party in L'Manburg?

With a shake of his head, Ghostbur started making his way home again, thankful that the tundra's snow didn't hurt as much as the rain. Sam, he clung to the name as he walked, like it'd stop him forgetting something, Techno had gone to L'Manburg and Ghostbur had just been with Sam.

He wanted to visit L'Manburg. He wanted to see Tommy. He had just been talking with Sam. And now he was walking home, with no Sam, no Tommy, his hand hurt and he wasn't any closer to figuring out what he'd done in the last few hours.

No sense in dwelling on what he didn't know, though. Ghostbur had learned firsthand that it never helped to try and remember the things he forgot, just to focus on the pieces he had. They'd talked about Tommy's trident, Hallelujah, a name that still made Ghostbur smile when he remembered it. They'd talked about… a cow? And…

They must have talked about something. It was a long walk from Sam’s to L’Manburg, it was hard to believe all they’d talked about was a trident and a cow. But he didn’t know Sam all that well, so he couldn’t imagine that they would about anything too personal. Unless, of course, they did, and Ghostbur just didn’t remember. Which was entirely possible and almost frustrating, something close to it.

If he looked deep inside himself– way down in the core of him where Alivebur had made his home, the part of him that was still Wilbur in some sense–and tried to decide how he felt, he just… really, he was happy to be headed home. He missed Friend. He wanted to talk to Phil about his weird day. Something under his skin still buzzed anxiously, insisting that something had happened, something was wrong, but he still just wanted to go home.

What could he really fix, anyway?

“Hey, mate,” Ghostbur jolted at his father’s voice, “back from Sam’s?” How long had he been walking again? He couldn’t have gotten home that fast, could he? “Did you see Tommy while you were out?”

Ghostbur wished he could hate forgetting. He wished he could hate anything. “No,” he said slowly, watching Phil work at the brewing stand. “I went to Sam’s,” he must have, he had just been walking with Sam, “but I didn’t see Tommy.”

Phil made a vague noise. “Well, I’m sure you’ll see him another day.” He added a fermented spider eye to the boiling water he was working with. “Techno’s not back from L’Manburg just yet, but he shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“I didn’t see him at L’Manburg,” Ghostbur said thoughtfully. Really, he didn't even see L'Manburg. Or he didn't remember seeing it, at least. “I was just there with Sam.”

The wings on Phil’s back twitched in alarm. “You were?” He turned to face him, looking surprised. “Are you okay?” Why would Phil be worried? Had something happened? He knew he’d forgotten something.

“I’m alright,” Ghostbur answered. “Why, what was Techno up to? Did something happen?” Something happened, something must have. Phil wouldn’t be this anxious otherwise.

Phil turned back to his brewing stand, mumbling out an answer. Something about Techno in L’Manburg, and Ghostbur couldn't really tell if he should be worried about Techno or not. Surely, Techno couldn’t have been too far behind Ghostbur, even if they weren't traveling together. The piglin hybrid could be pretty fast when he needed to be.

Ghostbur hummed and peered over Phil's shoulder. "What potions are you making?"

"Couple of different things," Phil answered. "Techno took some to L'Manburg, so I'm just restocking."

"What was Techno doing in L'Manburg that would need potions?" Ghostbur asked. "All I heard going on were fireworks."

Phil gave Ghostbur an odd look. "I literally just told you that he was…" he trailed off, studying the spirit carefully with a sort of understanding in his gaze. "Ah, right. I guess you wouldn't remember that." He shrugged awkwardly. "Look, mate, it's really nothing to worry about. Techno's just taking care of some business with Dream."

Ghostbur frowned. "What business?" Phil had probably already told him. And even if Phil told him again, he still wouldn't remember, but he needed to know. "Why was he with Dream?" Dream scared Tommy, and he didn't particularly like L'Manburg, so if Techno was doing something in L'Manburg and with Dream, then-

"Ghostbur," Phil sighed, sounding slightly exasperated, "it's just- it'll be fine, yeah? Why don't you go see Friend? Techno took Carl, he's probably lonely in that pen by himself."

It was a dismissal. A kind one, maybe, saving them both the trouble of talking in circles, but it was a dismissal all the same. And it didn't feel… Ghostbur didn't like being dismissed. Neither did Alivebur. No part of Wilbur liked being just barely acknowledged only to be brushed aside.

It was just easier to ignore him, Ghostbur realized. Something white-hot and familiar shot through him at the realization, and he reached out and grabbed the feeling by the throat before it could go anywhere. He'd forget this later, but not yet. Not right now.

"That's-" Ghostbur struggled with the feeling for a moment, the words like poison seeping through his gritted teeth, "That is not fair."

Phil, apparently just as surprised by the reaction as Ghostbur was, blinked at him. "That's not- what?"

“I know,” Ghostbur pressed forward, knowing he’d lose this feeling in just moments if he didn’t do anything about it now, “that I’m an amnesiac, and-” he took a breath, “and you all think I’m just some happy, cheerful ghost, but I still feel this.” He threaded his hands through his still damp hair, turning away from Phil so he didn’t have to see the shock in his father’s eyes. “I’m- I’m confused, and I’m scared all the time. I’m constantly worried about what I- what I’ve forgotten today, or if I’ll remember any of today when tomorrow comes!”

Ghostbur didn’t need to breathe, but that didn’t stop the tightness in his chest when Phil started to speak. “Ghostbur, I’m… I didn’t know you-”

“You don’t care!” Ghostbur corrected. “You know there’s things I won’t remember, so you don’t care. No one does!” He whirled back on Phil. “But it’s easy that way, yeah? To just- to let me forget and pretend everything is fine.” He gestured vaguely, hoping it looked as angry as he wanted to feel. “This server is falling apart, and I don’t even know why, and everyone on this server treats me like I’m stupid!”

Phil lifted his hands placatingly. “Okay! Okay, Ghostbur, I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to brush you off, mate.” And, weirdly enough, Ghostbur believed him. It was pretty easy to brush him off, so… maybe Phil just hadn’t realized? “I guess I didn’t realize that you still got upset about these kinds of things.”

At that, Ghostbur faltered. “I don’t- I’m not upset, really.” And he wasn’t. At least, he didn’t think so. He couldn’t really feel upset. “I just don’t understand why everyone is so…” he gave another weak gesture, whatever energy he had leaving him, “you know? They seem so angry all the time.”

“That they do,” Phil agreed. “And if you’re ever, you know, angry,” which was a weird thing to say, since anger had been something that died with Wilbur, “you can talk to-”

“But I’m not angry,” Ghostbur interrupted. “I don’t get angry, Phil, you know that.”

Phil frowned. “You sounded angry.”

Ghostbur blinked. He had been shouting a bit, hadn’t he? That felt a bit silly, when he thought about it. Techno was on his way home, and he’d just gotten back from a pleasant conversation with Sam. He hadn't gotten to see Tommy, but that wasn't really worth shouting, was it?

Sure, he still felt a bit uneasy about the fact that he hadn’t seen Tommy, but that didn’t sound like anything to be upset about. Tommy was safe with Sam! Sam had assured him that Tommy would be safe, taken care of. Protected. Even if Ghostbur didn’t know what Tommy needed to be protected from.

“Ghostbur,” Phil’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, “you good, mate?”

“Yeah,” Ghostbur said slowly. “Yeah, I’m-” he shook head to clear his thoughts. “I’m fine, Phil, I just- uh…” Almost subconsciously, he pulled a piece of blue dye from his inventory. “I think I just had a weird day.” He smiled as brightly as he could manage, which was pretty bright, considering whatever had been bothering him was already slipping away. “Not a bad weird day, I don’t think,” and would he even remember if it was? “At least it wasn’t a boring day, right?”

To his relief, the tension seemed to ease in Phil’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he agreed, “not a lot of boring days on this server, huh?” He nodded to a nearby chest. “You mind grabbing me some nether wart? I’m gonna get started on this next round of potions.”

“Sure!” Ghostbur opened the chest and pulled out a small handful of the red fungus, careful not to get any blue dye on them. “What kind of potions did you say you were making again?”

“Just replacing some Techno took,” Phil reminded him. “Health and strength, mostly. Might make a few more invis while I’ve already got things brewing.”

Ghostbur hummed thoughtfully. “I wish I could be invisible,” he mused. “You know, it’s actually quite boring being a ghost?” He closed the chest and returned to Phil’s side with the nether wart. “I thought it’d be a bit more fun, but it’s nothing like the movies.”

Phil set three bottles of water on the stand, checking the blaze rods before taking the nether wart from him. “That so? What’s so boring about it?”

“Well, I can’t turn invisible, for one. And I can’t fly, either.” Ghostbur placed his hand against the nearest wall. “I can’t even phase through things. That’s the one thing all ghost movies have in common.” He huffed a bit, dropping his hand back to his side. “I don’t think anyone that’s written a ghost movie has actually been dead.”

A surprised laugh escaped Phil. “No, I reckon they haven’t. Not a lot of ghosts in the world these days, huh.”

Ghostbur tilted his head. “Did there used to be?”

“You see a few things when you’ve been around as long as I have,” Phil replied ominously. “This server isn’t the only place with wars.” A small, fond smile graced his lips.  “Lady Death’s domain is a vast one, you know.”

Before Ghostbur could follow that train of thought, the door to Techno’s cabin opened. “Phil,” came a familiar gruff voice. “Potatoes.”

Ghostbur beamed. “Hi, Techno!” He hadn’t seen since the piglin hybrid since that morning, which had started to feel like forever at that point, despite the fact that Ghostbur couldn’t remember the majority of his day. “How are you?”

“I’d feel better if I had potatoes,” Techno replied, “Phil.”

Phil rolled his eyes, hardly bothering to look up from his brewing stand. “You can get your own potatoes, mate.”

“I cannot believe this disrespect, Phil,” Techno muttered., despite the fact that he did, in fact, get his own potatoes. “Some of us have been out fighting wars, you know. Do you have any idea how much running around I did today?”

“Nope,” Phil replied simply.

“Uh- lots,” Techno supplied. “Lots of running, lots of people with swords in a crater. And they were all picking fights, for some reason.”

Phil snorted. “I’m sure that had nothing to do with the rain of-”

“Oh, the rain,” Ghostbur gasped. “The rain didn’t ruin the party, did it?”

Techno spared Ghostbur a glance before pulling some potatoes out of a chest. “Nah. I still had a great time. Everyone else… that’s a different story.”

“Saw a message about Jack earlier,” Phil said, and something… felt off. Familiar? Something about Jack- “What was that about?” Techno shrugged, taking a bite of baked potato and taking off his cloak. “Well, hopefully that wasn’t his last. Murder wasn’t really the point of this whole thing, was it?”

Ghosbur frowned. “I hope not.” How many lives did Jack have left again? Had he lost any? For some reason, Ghosbur was sure Jack had lost at least one, but he couldn’t remember why- “Why would you murder anyone at a party?”

“Eh, the murder was more like a bonus,” Techno said, which did nothing to lessen Ghostbur’s concern. Even Phil shot him a look. “What? They tried to kill me first, if you’ll recall.”

“Well, that’s just not nice,” Ghostbur mumbled absently.

Technoblade nodded sagely. “Pretty cringe, I agree.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Tubbo and Quackity tried to kill you first, from what I recall, not L’Manburg. And it was mostly Quackity, from what I hear, yeah?” Techno grunted in begrudging acknowledgement. “Right. So, I’m sure everyone would prefer that there were no random permadeaths today.”

Techno took off his armor, inspecting a dent in his chestplate. “Calm down, Phil, I’m sure it’s fine. It’s not like anyone would come breaking down our door even if it was his last life.” He deposited the damaged armor into a chest. “People on this server have a hard enough time taking care of themselves to worry about anyone else.”

Ghostbur went back to fiddling with his blue dye while PHil and Techno talked. He caught bits and pieces. Something about Dream disappearing halfway through the fight, Phil asking if Techno had seen Tommy… and a few other things Ghostbur couldn’t quite seem to grasp, but it was probably fine.

Really, Ghostbur was just happy to be home. It seemed like the party was fun, for Techno, at least. Maybe it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Just fireworks and… some mild murder? Maybe? All in all, not the worst festival that had ever happened on the server. Tommy and Sam probably had a great time!

There was nothing to worry about, probably… the anxiety creeping under his skin was nothing. Just a side effect of being forgetful. Anyone would be anxious, if they forgot things as easily as Ghostbur did. It didn’t necessarily mean anything was wrong.

Maybe he’d just had a weird day. He wasn’t sure, since he couldn’t remember a lot of it, but he wasn’t usually this off kilter unless something odd had happened. He felt a lot better being home, though, in the tundra, where the bad things were far and few between. The worst thing that happened was usually just the snow, and even that wasn’t so bad. Nothing a visit with Friend couldn’t fix.

He could always visit Tommy another day. What was the worst that could happen until then?

Notes:

"Ghostbur forgets everything bad." yeah, but he *knows* that he forgets. He knows there's bad stuff happening but he doesn't know what, or why. He likes being helpful, but he doesn't know what people need help with. Tommy looks injured and needs protection, but from what? Or who?

This entire chapter was basically me making Ghostbur suffer for about 3,600 words. I did this instead of writing plot, you're welcome. And by "you're welcome" I actually mean "I'm sorry". The sad little court jester shall return to writing plot now *does a little jingle dance out of the room*

(wait, i lied *jingles back into the room* i forgot to apologize for how disjointed this chapter is. it's meant to be that way, sort of, to highlight how awkward the days must pass for Ghostbur, but i know that can be hard to read, so. whoopsey daisy? sorry if this chapter sucked to read. okay, NOW i'm doin a little jingle dance out of the room)