Chapter Text
Five months. Two weeks. Two days.
Tommy Innes has been living within the Watson household for five months, two weeks, and two days now. He doesn’t know why exactly he started to keep track of something as simple as that, but he can’t deny that the steady increase of the number warmed something within his chest. Always the type to blather out what was on his mind, he had told the family of his counting back when it was at three months: it was a lazy morning, Phil was making breakfast, Techno was drinking coffee, and Wilbur and Tommy were both bemoaning being awake at all.
Phil asked what they wanted— Tommy demanded pancakes. Phil chuckled, amused, and asked what the special occasion was. When he explained that it was the three month anniversary of them (officially) turning their guest room into Tommy’s room, he was met by Wilbur suddenly cooing about how cute it was that Tommy was keeping track. He then yelled at Wilbur for being stupid, and also ugly, but Phil had only smiled and promised that, yeah, sure, they could have pancakes.
If he wanted to be technical, it was ten months, three weeks, and a single day since he had even met Wilbur in the first place, when he was working a cafe job and managed to win the guy over with his charming personality and colorful language. But that was just… Wilbur, and for a while, it had just been him stepping by for a fraction of Tommy's day. Tommy was a busy man, after all, and the weird theater kid who called him a gremlin and ordered black coffee like some sort of freak was hardly someone he expected to become important.
But then Wilbur started hanging around more, and then he was visiting his house, and meeting his brother and dad… and Tommy wouldn't lie: he was starting to enjoy the company. And to his surprise, they did too, for some reason. Phil offered Tommy to stay permanently at their house six months ago. There was a bit of a hiccup, but after a living situation with his roommates was sorted, Tommy found he didn't have any reason to say no.
They joke and say that they kidnapped him, but really, Tommy knew he was the one getting the better end of this deal. He tricked them into giving him food and shelter in this situation, obviously. He hadn’t been, you know, adopted.
Except, well.
“Phil wants to adopt you,” Wilbur spectacularly spoiled him a week ago. “For your birthday.”
Tommy just blinked back at him, then. “... Why?”
“What do you mean, why? ” Wilbur squawked. “You’ve called me brother, like, ten times just in the past few days !”
“That’s— that didn't happen. You’re making that up.”
“Awww, it’s okay,” Wilbur got a devious look in his eyes. “You can admit it to big brother Wilby.”
Tommy launched himself over the couch to tackle the musician, laughing the entire time.
Despite himself? Tommy couldn’t help but get… excited for his birthday. They didn’t historically always go well. But as each day grew closer to his 17th, he grew more and more giddy about the idea. Prime, for once, he would actually just have something nice, right? People who wanted him around just for… him, and nothing else.
He didn’t ever tell them, but he had too long of a history of being left behind, because he was “too annoying”, or “too destructive”, or “a menace to society”.
It was nice, to just be wanted .
And now it was the day of his seventeenth birthday, which started with Wilbur pulling him out of bed and promising that this was going to be his best birthday, well, ever. They saw him as some sort of sob story, some poor orphan boy who had NEVER had a childish birthday, ever. Tommy guessed he couldn’t really blame them. Only a few months ago, they didn’t realize he really was a kid, still. Lying about being eighteen so he could work full time at ‘Nook’s Beans and Cream Cafe’.
(He remembered that day. It was before he started staying here, so before the count. A drink had been left out on the table, and Tommy had taken it in a moment of lapse of judgment. Wilbur had raised his eyebrows at him, as if challenging him to drink it, which of course encouraged the boy. Yet as soon as the alcohol hit the back of his throat he recoiled, spitting out what was left and coughing violently. Wilbur let out an uncontrollable laugh, nearly falling off the couch.
“You okay, mate?” Phil said, unable to hide his amusement. “That’s why you don’t just grab random drinks, you know.”
“I didn’t realize it was fucking poisoned—”
“Tommy,” Techno rolled his eyes. “It’s just wine.”
“Well! Maybe wine shouldn’t taste like such shit.”
Wilbur was still laughing over the whole argument, and now even Techno was unable to not join in with a quiet, deep laugh. Tommy, even though he was the center of humiliation, felt his lips curling up into a smile.
“Have you never even had wine before?”
“No,” Tommy put the drink down. He was too busy enjoying the moment to think about his words. “I mean, you guys shouldn’t even be leaving this out around a minor. I’m sixteen, assholes, I’m going to call the cops on you.”
The way Wilbur stopped laughing was how Tommy realized what he said. After all, until that point, despite all the jokes of him being a child, he never actually admitted his age. Legally, after all, he was eighteen, and he just… looked young. Phil would tell him later they had their suspicions, but it didn’t mean the confirmation still rang out like an anvil dropping in a library that day.
He worked a full time job and lived paycheck to paycheck with two roommates.
He was only sixteen.
“Prime,” Phil muttered under his breath.)
The afternoon of April 9th is finally settling down, with Tommy arriving back home with both Wilbur and Phil after they took him to the local arcade. Techno stayed home to finish up some work, as well in general just opting out of being in a crowded area. Tommy rushes back to his room ( his room, now. His.) to deposit the copious amounts of cotton candy he got, dumping them out on his desk without a care for the few that roll onto the floor.
The plan for the day is simple: go to the arcade, have dinner with them, and then head over to Ranboo and Tubbo’s apartment for the rest of the night. It’s hard for him to ignore the growing anticipation he feels, but he can’t deny he’s having fun , just… relaxing, with the three of them.
When dinner is all said and done, Wilbur just pulls ice cream out of the freezer, having decided to pass on cake and just having some neapolitan instead. Tommy’s favorite is vanilla, Wilbur’s chocolate, and Techno’s strawberry. Phil is the only one who doesn’t really care, mixing in all three without any other topping. They’ve all moved into the living room now, carefully balancing the bowls so as to not spill anything out onto the couch.
“You just about done, mate?” Phil says, as a lull is made in their conversation. Tommy looks down at his half finished ice cream but nods anyway. Phil just smiles. “Alright, then should we do presents?”
“Birthday presents for the birthday child,” Techno says, deadpan.
"You have to open mine first," Wilbur says, shoving a medium sized box across the coffee table to Tommy. “And then Techno’s, and then Dad’s.”
“Alright, al right , I’ll open your dumb present.” The grin on Tommy’s face destroys any chance of vitriol in his words. He trades his bowl on the table for the present. It’s an almond brown wrapping paper– no, it’s literally just brown paper, he realizes, as he gets his hands on it, with a yellow stick-on bow likely bought from the dollar store stuck on top. “Gee, thanks,” he remarks, looking at the less than stellar presentation of the gift. He’s rewarded with an eyeroll.
“Just open it already, gremlin.”
And so he does, just simply ripping through the paper to expose the box underneath. He falters when he recognizes the logo on it, matching Wilbur’s smirk with a bewildered look. “Eh??” he says (a habit he thinks he might have picked up from Techno), before removing more paper. “Eh??”
It’s a Nintendo 3DS, but more importantly, it was the Animal Crossing edition of the 3DS. The device was white with different colored franchise symbols on it, and Tommy can’t help but give a delighted grin as he flips the box over to look at it.
Wilbur is quick to talk. “Obviously they don’t really make games for that anymore, since everything is overpriced on the Switch, but there’s still a bunch of classics you’ve said you’ve never gotten to play.” He glances at his brother. “It comes with New Leaf on it, since you enjoy New Horizons so much, but Techno and I have a bunch of our old games we can let you play.”
Phil gives a displeased expression. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t have just taught him how to emulate the games on the computer.”
Immediately, his sons start talking over one another.
“It’s just not the SAME—”
“—Dad, come on. That’s literally illegal. We don’t do crimes here.”
“Oh, shut up Techno, what are you, a cop?”
Techno just raises his eyebrows at Wilbur, amused.
Phil puts up his hands in his defense. “Okay, okay, I hear you!” he laughs, and Tommy can’t help but join in.
“Thank you,” He says. “Seriously, holy fuck. I knew you were going to go all rich on me, but this is crazy.”
Wilbur tries his best to smile, although he really struggles to find just getting an old gaming device as ‘rich’. He could have bought Tommy hundreds of dollars worth of Animal Crossing merch if he really wanted to go all out, but he had to stop himself from completely overwhelming the kid.
“No problem,” is what he settles on saying. “Your turn, Techno.”
Techno reaches for something he was keeping on the side table, grabbing a small card and handing it over to Tommy. “I’ll be honest,” he starts. “I like gifts with meaning, but I figured I’d go a little more basic this time. If you want, we can go shopping together and pick something out so it’s not me being completely lazy.”
“Techno, that totally spoils what it is.”
Tommy doesn’t really care, continuing to tear the envelope and putting that with the other trash. He opens up the card and does his best to read what it says before glancing at the gift card, but it’s just a quick message from Techno saying: Happy birthday. Just go ahead and take the money . He snorts, mutters thank you, and then looks at the card.
“... You did not just give me a hundred dollars.”
“Wilbur got you a brand new 3DS, technically, this is the cheaper gift.”
It was a Target gift card, but still, Tommy feels pretty flabbergasted. He’s dealt with large amounts of money before— he had a job and paid rent, for The Primes’ sakes— but a hundred dollars has never just been so casually handed out.
He’s starting to get flustered. He lets out a quiet “Thank you,” and starts to sink into the couch in order to not be seen. This is, of course, impossible, and Wilbur starts to cackle at his embarrassment. The younger boy recovers quickly and goes to throw the card (sans the gift) right at Wilbur, which spectacularly misses him and flutters to the ground.
Techno’s about to chime in when Phil cuts him off. “Alright, alright. Let’s settle down. It’s time for my gift.” This instantly makes the three boys stop what they’re doing, anticipation rising in the room like the thermostat had suddenly been turned up. Phil glances between his two sons as Tommy puts the gifts to the side. “So,”
This was it. He was getting adopted. Holy shit.
“Which one of them already told you?” Phil says instead, smiling.
“Wilbur.” Tommy snitches without a second thought.
The man in question cries out, “Is it too late to return him?”
“Yes, it is.” Techno gives a hearty gruff. Tommy knew Wilbur was joking, he wasn’t even bothered by it, but Techno’s immediate response makes his chest grow warm.
Phil reaches into his pocket, searching around for something before, to Tommy’s confusion, pulling out a very small box. It fits in the palm of his hand. It’s a soft silver color, and has glitter all over it, letting it reflect the soft light coming from a lamp nearby. “I feel like getting adoption paperwork on your birthday is kind of underwhelming,” he explains. “So we can worry about all of that later, mate. For now, I just want to give you this, and then I have something important to tell you.”
Oh. Tommy didn’t expect it to go like this, but it makes sense. “Sure,” he nods, and with Phil’s consent, reaches over to take the box from his hands. It’s easily recognizable to him as a jewelry box now that he can feel its weight, and carefully, he takes off the top.
It’s an emerald. A real emerald, he bets, since the track record of spending serious money on him wasn’t likely to stop. But Tommy doesn’t care about any of that, because he recognizes this emerald. The cut is the exact same: no taller than an inch, slender, and given a diamond shape to it. There’s a small golden chain attached to the top, as well.
Phil has it laced around his hat. Techno had his as an earring hanging off his left ear. Wilbur has his on a charm bracelet, tucked away usually by his long coat.
Tommy is very proud of himself for not crying. He also probably looks like he’s about to faint.
“That’s yours.” Phil confirms the unspoken question. “No matter what, that’s yours now mate, alright? You’re welcome here, with us. You don’t need to sign any adoption papers to stay here, and you don’t have to remain here once you turn eighteen, if you want to move out.”
“This is…” Tommy starts, “Cheesy as fuck, I would say. I do not think you can get more sappy than giving some f-family emblem, oh, motherfucker,” It is impossible for him to keep it together. He starts to breathe heavily, completely innocuously rubbing at his eyes. “Ridiculous, all three of you are completely insane. I’m going to rob you all blind one day, do you know that? Teach you rich fucks a lesson—”
Wilbur cuts him off. “You can just say you love us.”
“ THAT’S NOT WHAT I WAS —”
Normally, Phil would always just let them keep bickering, but he does still have something he wants to say. He coughs, eyeing Wilbur as a way of saying stand down , and then looks at Tommy. “We love you too, mate.” ( “I STILL WASN’T —”) “But I still have something I need to tell you, now. It’s… well, hrm. It’s something you should be aware of, before you’re brought into this family legally.”
Wait, okay. Serious talk? Tommy calms down from his yelling and, realizing that he started to stand up, sits back down with the jewelry case still in his lap. As he does this, Phil actually stands up , and Tommy looks at him, confused.
Legally. Oh, huh. For the first time, Tommy’s starting to realize adoption will actually require official documents, and such. He… he’s not even sure he has those, anymore.
“The first thing you need to know is that I’m a hybrid.” Phil starts, and Tommy raises an eyebrow at the man.
Hybrids are far from uncommon anymore, reaching about half of the total population, but some hybrids still hide their traits, if they can. He’s been here for five months, two weeks, and two days, though, and it’s weird that he hasn’t noticed any signs from the man. Like, at all. Techno is a boar hybrid, he was pretty sure, but even with his fairly docile traits Tommy can still pick up on a few things.
“... Okay?” The bewilderment is clear in his voice. “What’s the deal with that then, old man?”
Phil just smiles at him, something fond, before removing the gray jacket he was wearing over his shoulders. At first, Tommy can’t tell what’s happening, so he looks over to one of the brothers for clarification. It’s right then that there’s a flash of black, and he whips his head to Phil again.
Appearing quite literally out of nowhere , like he had summoned them out of thin air, is the most beautiful pair of wings that Tommy has ever seen. Phil unfurls them slightly so that he can show them off, but there was only so much space in the room to do so. From the window, the sun has finally started to set. The sunset’s soft rays pass through the bottom of his primary feathers, yet Phil remains mostly a darkened silhouette in front of the light.
Avians are not unheard of, but ones with a working pair of wings are . Tommy finds himself wondering if Phil can actually fly with those. He’s only heard of one person in L’manburg capable of flight, but… that was…
“Tommy.” The man’s voice is soft, as his black wings encase the rest of Tommy’s vision.
“I am also the hero named Zephyrus. ”
And then Tommy stops breathing.
It feels like both the world stopped and is moving way too fast at the same time. Phil, Zephyrus, no— Phil, is smiling still, and Wilbur’s looking at his dad. Techno is the one studying Tommy’s face for his reaction, he isn’t giving anything away yet, except for his slightly agape mouth.
“What.” He says, both painfully too slow and too quickly. All his panic is masked in pure shock and adrenaline. “ Huh? ”
“Turns out those old bones are still useful for something.” Wilbur chimes in, trying to tease his father.
“ Hush , you.” Phil chastises, but there’s clear affection in his voice. He lowers his wings slightly. “I know it’s probably a lot to take in, mate, but I wanna say that I'm sorry—"
"No, seriously, what the fuck?"
Tommy's attempt at just a "surprised" facade is slipping through his fingers. He lets out a laugh, unable to process his emotions in any other way, and then looks between both Techno and Wilbur. "This is a joke, right? Some sort of adoption prank? Like, like, haha, let’s— let’s make some fake, uh, but really convincing cosplay wings and freak Tommy out. There’s no way you’ve just been hiding those for—”
“Magic,” Phil interrupts, still unaware of the dread tearing Tommy’s stomach apart. “I was born with an ability to hide my wings at will. Pretty useless, for a superpower, but it has its perks.” He flaps his wings a bit. “They’re still there, but I, well, we haven’t wanted to scare you with them until we were ready to tell you.”
“I thought,” Tommy starts, “I thought your, uh. I hear that Zephyrus’ only ability was that his wings couldn’t be damaged?”
He’s seen it in action, after all. It feels natural to treat the wings as his biggest weak point, but he’s seen a villain try and set those pitch black feathers aflame. He watched (from a distance, of course, because he wasn’t ready to get involved yet) as he had just shaken the flames off. Like someone had just doused water on them instead.
Phil just shrugs, a smile remaining on his face. “More of just a perk of the wings, than anything else.”
“It’s important that you know this,” Techno says. “Living with a superhero, being the son of a superhero, can be dangerous. Zephyrus’ identity is well hidden, but it doesn’t mean there’s not still always a threat.”
“—But,” Wilbur gives his brother a glare. “It doesn’t mean you won’t be safe. Techno’s just always preparing for the worst case scenario, you know how he is.”
“Tommy?” Phil tilts his head to the side. “You okay, mate?”
Right. He isn’t responding to anything. He always chimed in when Techno and Wilbur started bickering, never enjoying being the one left out. But now he’s just staring down at his half melted ice cream, his eyes starting to have a distant look.
“I’m,” he stutters. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
Tommy’s doing his best to breathe, but that comes out very labored and loud, and at this point there’s no way he can hide how much this is weighing down on him. “Just–” He breathes out. “Didn’t really have this in the agenda, you know? This barely even makes any sense, like, for fuck’s sake, you said you were just a sales manager , how do you have time for hero work? That doesn’t really add up now, does it?”
“That,” Wilbur grimaces. “We had to lie to you about some things, Tommy.”
Right. Of course they did. And Tommy– he can’t really judge them, can he.
Tommy feels like there was something crawling under his own skin, as he reminds himself his secrets are far worse. He rubs at his right arm, his gloved hand making little contact with any actual skin.
Phil’s wings are summoned away, and Tommy feels even more guilty. “You don’t need to–,” He tries to explain to a worried Phil. “It’s fine, or whatever, that you have those big old things, or that you’re a hero! That’s actually super fucking cool, because you’re Phil , the like, only man ever, and what the hell!” His voice cracks. “You’re also Zephyrus? ”
He can’t read the expression on Phil’s face, but it makes him wish the man would just stab him instead. He just nods calmly at Tommy, confirming the question, and the young boy shakes as he lets out another breath.
“I think I just need some air.” Tommy finally decides on a course of action, standing up. He feels his stomach dropping as everyone looks at him with sad eyes. Disappointed . He wishes, more than anything, that he could have taken this news in stride… One of the world’s best superheroes wanting to adopt him? That has to be the dream of so many young children. He wishes he could be running around the room, excited, he wishes Wilbur could be laughing right now, instead of looking at him with hurt eyes, he wishes he could just be a normal fucking kid—
“That sounds like a good idea.” Techno, his lord and savior, seems to take pity on him. “Do you still want to call Tubbo and Ranboo? It could be good, I think, to take some time to yourself.”
Wilbur is still uncertain though. “I don’t know… Tommy, we didn’t mean to—”
“No, no no, it’s okay, I’m just— I’m just being dumb about this.” Tommy tries to play it off. This isn’t their fault. “I’m not gonna run off.” He knows that, back when Wilbur was trying to get Tommy to stay at the house, he’d often sneak out to his dismay. It isn’t something he’s done in awhile (five months, two weeks, two days), but even when he was in the foster system, he was always labeled as a flight risk. “I think I just…”
The other gifts remain on the side table, but he’s still gripping the jewelry box in his hands. In a swift motion, he slips it into his hoodie pocket.
“I wish there had been an easier way to tell you, Tommy, I do, but it doesn’t get more direct than this.” Phil is still frowning. “I’m sorry, as well. Go— we’ll just leave you be, for the night.”
Tommy is proud to say he doesn’t stumble as he leaves the living room, nor does he start to cry until he’s already shut the front door behind him. He leaves behind the others— Phil, whose eyes followed Tommy on his way out, still lingering on the spot that he last saw him. Wilbur, staring down directly at his hands, trying not to shake in annoyance. And Techno, who just closes his eyes, putting his glasses down.
“Well,” Wilbur says dryly, breaking the silence at the table. “That could have gone better.”
Phil has his head in his hands as Techno snarks back. “Ehhh, could have been worse, too. I mean, we could have started with your secret identity—”
Wilbur throws his spoon at him.
────── 〔☆〕──────
There’s a second point to that counting, actually. Another purpose he has for tracking the days, one that he’s much better at hiding from the Watson family. One of the upsides, he supposes, to being such a known rambler is that people don’t tend to think he’s capable of hiding anything. And, sure, he isn’t always the best at keeping his emotions in check or not letting details slip, but Tommy has secrets he will take to the grave.
Because five months, two weeks, and two days ago was the last time Tommy had roamed the streets as a vigilante.
As it turns out, his first meeting with Phil wasn’t that first night Wilbur had dragged him to his house, demanding he eat dinner with them and accidentally passing out on their couch. No, his first meeting was nearly a year ago, when he was jumping off a roof and nearly killing himself just to avoid the winged hero swooping down at him. Instead of his first words to him being “ I wasn’t expecting Wilbur’s friend to be some child he’s kidnapped ”, it was “ I’m not sure you have anywhere else to run.”
Tommy feels stupid. He knows that he shouldn’t— for Christ’s sake, Zephyrus has wings, and Tommy only found out Phil was a hybrid moments ago, and it’s not like their voices are similar, because Zephyrus used a voice changer like every other masked jerk with some braincells, but… but… he still feels like an idiot that he didn’t pick up on any clues. Christ, he’s supposed to be the “best vigilante ever”... shouldn’t that have meant he could figure it out?
A crow squawks from the trees, only serving to make Tommy’s mood worse. It’s like the universe is laughing at him.
Still sitting on the stairs that led up to the Watson house, Tommy tucks his knees underneath his arms and looks down at the ground. He can’t decide if he’s grateful that no one has exited the house to talk with him or bitter about it, instead. That’s unfair, though, and he knows it. Doesn’t make him feel any less lonely.
Another ruined birthday to add to the list, but this time, Tommy can only blame himself.
“Tommy!”
Hearing the voice of his friend, Tommy snaps out of his spiral and looked up. Ranboo and Tubbo are both getting out of the car, with the latter rushing forward to give the blond a hug. “Happy birthday,” Ranboo says quietly, smiling. He lets Tubbo do the hugging, not out of lack of care for his friend, but he was never as clingy as Tommy and Tubbo got. For his part, Tommy is delighted to receive one of Tubbo’s hugs, quickly wrapping his arms around his back and squeezing softly.
“Thank you,” he says, trying and failing for his voice to not crack. “It’s been… it’s just—”
“Tommy?” Tubbo asks inquisitively, leaning back to look at his face. “What’s wrong?”
“A lot of things, Big T.” Tommy chuckles, and Tubbo then turns to share a look with Ranboo. If Tommy is actually admitting he isn’t doing okay, then it’s really bad. “I… I just wanna head out of the house, for a while. Can we… is the sleepover still...?”
“Of course you’re coming over, Tommy.” Ranboo speaks. The amnesiac is prone to typically speaking in questions, uncertain. It only makes moments like these, where he speaks firmly, that it makes it feel even more real. Like Ranboo is speaking a set rule of the universe. Something that can’t be denied, or forgotten.
Tubbo is already starting to drag Tommy towards the car. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” He repeats over and over, leaving Ranboo by himself on the porch. Having a moment of clarity, it seems, Ranboo opens the door to the Watson house to call inside that they were taking Tommy for the night. He isn’t able to hear any response, as Tubbo has now successfully gotten him into the passenger's seat (something he would normally reserve for Ranboo, as a way to tease Tommy, but not tonight. Sad birthday boy gets shotgun privileges.)
Once Ranboo makes his way back to the car, the ride is quick to pick up Tommy’s mood. They ask Tommy about how the arcade went to test the waters, and to their relief, it seemed Tommy had at least had a mostly normal birthday. The last thing Tommy wants, as they drove down the streets of L’manburg, is for things to be quiet and to get lost in his thoughts right now. So he talks about the arcade, and then they talk about Tubbo’s classmates, and then some book Ranboo was reading, before the conversation drifts off into some inane topic that had them all laughing.
He ignores the concerned glances Tubbo and Ranboo still share. It’s not that long of a drive to their place, anyways.
It’s a fairly nice apartment. Compared to the one the three once lived in, it’s actually ridiculously too much. Tommy used to share a one bedroom apartment with the pair, using one large bed and rotating who slept on the couch. The AC barely worked, and there was a leak in the ceiling for months with a bucket (lovingly named L’Fucket) catching all the water. He was near certain the kitchen was some sort of fire hazard, and even their microwave had just broken before they finally got the chance to pack their bags and never look back.
He knows, objectively, that this new one isn’t anything special, but it still doesn't mean it isn’t a huge improvement in just about every way. The whole thing has that white and beige color scheme, leaving it like a blank slate, in case the residents ever needed to up and move again without much hassle. Still it’s lived in: from the bee patterned washcloths that hang off the refrigerator door, or the poorly put away game cases that are thrown about near the television, or the dent in the wall Tommy accidentally caused, now with the couch moved to hide it from immediate view.
Tommy enjoys that this is a place he can also call home, even if it doesn’t have any of the same eccentricities that their old apartment had. Except for L’Fucket, which remains right on the kitchen counter, for memory’s sake. They couldn’t leave the good soldier behind.
“So,” Tubbo starts. “... What happened?”
Tommy gives a loud groan, walking past Ranboo to plop down on the couch. “I don’t even know where to start.”
The two roommates share a glance, and then Ranboo says, “Was… does this have something to do with the adoption plan?”
A bark of laughter comes out of Tommy. “Jeez, did Wilbur run his mouth to everyone?”
Ranboo gives a grin. “No, this one was Techno, actually. Wanted to make sure it was a good idea, and not something that would freak you out.”
“We did tell him that you would love it,” Tubbo adds, now frowning. He bites his lip for a moment and then takes a seat next to Tommy on the couch. He rubs a spot on his back, trying to comfort him, and Tommy leans into the touch. “Which… I reckon we might have been wrong? I’m sorry, I—”
Tommy sighs. “No, you were perfectly right. Wilbur had spoiled it for me, and I think I was ready.” Was , the word haunts him. Just this morning, he was confident he was going to start a new page in his life. Now, it feels like his past has him in a chokehold. Tommy takes out the box he still had in his pocket, taking off the cover to reveal the family emerald Phil only gave him less than an hour ago. He sighs again, louder, and then grips the box tightly.
“Phil’s Zephyrus.”
It’s a blunt way of saying it, and Tommy sort of regrets it, but he knows it wasn’t coming out any other way. Tubbo’s eyes widen and he stops rubbing Tommy’s back in shock, and Ranboo…
“Oh my god .”
Unable to help himself, Tommy can only laugh at the crisis Ranboo is having, one that mirrors his own earlier. Ranboo sits down on the chair across from them, trying to reprocess everything he knew about the man, and what it meant to him. After all, Tommy supposes, Zephyrus is his boss, sort of. Thing is, Ranboo knew from the day he got the job as a Syndicate intern he would be keeping secrets from them. But this is on a whole other level, isn’t it?
Tubbo is thinking more clearly though, trying to piece together what this means . “How the hell does he hide those wings?”
And then Tommy is telling them everything, from Phil’s magic, to the fact that Techno and Wilbur already knew. He recounts the entire evening, unable to look any of them in the eyes, only able to stare at the emerald in his hands. A promise, Phil said. That even if Tommy chose to not be formally adopted, he was a part of this family whatever way he wanted.
Tommy can only assume “wanted criminal” wasn’t covered by that, however.
What makes this so much easier, though, to air his thoughts, is the fact that Tubbo and Ranboo know. They know just about every aspect of Tommy’s past, even if he keeps things brief. About his powers, about his time on the streets, and about his… less than legal hero work. And in turn, Tommy knows their secrets, as well. He knows Tubbo's real name, and the family he’s hiding from. He knows why Ranboo flinches around doctors or people in lab coats, or what it means when his eyes start to glow purple.
He knows what it was like to try and pay for a run down apartment by pooling together the paycheck of minimum wage jobs; jobs they only had because of faked documents and fake ages.
Before Phil, before Techno, before Will…
Before— he cuts off his own line of thinking.
There was Tubbo. And Ranboo. They were his family.
"Okay," Tubbo speaks up first. "How did they take you leaving? Do you think they might suspect you're hiding something?"
Tommy runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I dunno! They just looked… disappointed . It wasn't how they thought it would go." He remembers Wilbur's expression and winces. "I probably shouldn't have left."
Ranboo moved at some point, but Tommy honestly missed when it happened in all his thoughts. Sitting now on the other side of Tommy, he frowns. "No, I think you needed the space. If they started… If…” Ranboo’s trailing off, suddenly uncertain of how he wanted to word this. “If they cornered you for an explanation, I think it would have gone worse.”
“You used to run off all the time before Phil kidnapped you,” Tubbo adds. Kidnapped isn’t at all what happened— in fact, Phil made it very clear Tommy was welcome to keep living with Tubbo and Ranboo, if he wanted, but that didn’t mean the smaller boy wouldn’t snark about it. “You’re a traumatized street kid, in their eyes.”
“The issue is, Tommy shouldn’t have any reason to be afraid of heroes.” Ranboo says. “The Syndicate saved both me and Tommy a few months ago.” Five months two weeks two days. “If anything, this should be more reassuring—”
“— Maybe that’s the problem. Tommy can’t handle that risk of danger possibly happening again—”
“Guys.” Tommy groans. “I appreciate you trying to come up with a cover story right away, but I’m VERY MUCH too exhausted to think about this right now.”
Ranboo and Tubbo share a look, one of those infuriating ones that means they're having a whole private conversation that Tommy’s not privy to. But they drop it, especially once Tommy huffs in annoyance, and the shorter boy goes back to leaning into Tommy.
“We’ll figure it out.”
“We always do.”
The seconds pass in silence, the three rest together on the couch. Tubbo is the one to break the peace, suddenly shooting up. “Oh, I nearly forgot!” he declares, making his way to the bedroom. Without accommodating shoes, his hooves click around the ground in a way that could only make Tommy smile through his confusion. He gives Ranboo a tired, odd look, but Ranboo only shrugs. (“If Tubbo forgot, what do you expect me to do?” Remains unsaid.)
The sound of shuffling comes from the other room, something falling over, and the cry of an expletive from their ram hybrid friend. Ranboo’s almost up off the couch before Tubbo lets out an assurance that he’s fine. He’s tumbling back into the living room shortly after, and Tommy locks his eyes on a red wrapped box with green, white, and black ribbons tied all around it.
He groans. “You didn’t.”
Tubbo only grins. “Of course I did, bitch.”
“It’s from the both of us.” Ranboo chimes in, resulting in Tommy elbowing him lightly. He cries out in pain anyways.
“Happy birthday!” Choosing to be oblivious to others’ suffering, Tubbo makes his way back over to Tommy and hands over the box. “Open it, open it!!”
Against his will, the birthday present is now in his lap. He rolls his eyes, but no matter how hard he tries to fight it, a smile still worms it’s way onto his face. “Gosh, you’re so clingy,” He weakly reputes, which rewards him with Tubbo now slapping him on the shoulder. Ranboo chuckles.
The ribbons don’t prove to be too much of an annoyance, easily sliding off the box. Neither is the wrapping paper, quickly joining the ribbons on the floor. This only reveals a white box. The tape is what proves to be more difficult, and Tommy has to resort to taking off his gloves to properly even destroy it. Tubbo’s soft laughter rings in his ears as he uncovers what’s inside.
When he sees the familiar red cloth, and the even moreso familiar mask.
The mask covers the upper half of his face, an indent where his cheekbones would be to help disguise the actual structure of his face. It has a base color of black with metallic overcoat in sparkling merlot pearl, giving it a reflective scarlet shine to the mostly dark piece. He softly puts it to the side for now, unfolding the red and white hoodie in front of him. This is different from how he remembers it— it’s cleaner, sturdier. The collar is now popped out and large enough that he can pull it up and cover his own mouth, providing even more cover of his face. The black undershirt is reinforced with something bulletproof, and there are armor guards for his elbows and knees too.
“You didn’t .” He echoes himself from earlier, but this time, he’s breathless.
“Since you had to burn your old one,” Tubbo explains, sitting back down on the couch once again. He watches with a fond smile as the blond flipped his suit from front to back, admiring it. “Ranboo and I have been working on this for a while. Some of the upgrades were even snatched from the Syndicate.” He cringes. “Oh, fuck, we stole from your dad.”
Ranboo interjects to distract them from that line of logic. “You may be retired, but we felt like you shouldn’t be denied the opportunity too… Well, you should at least have a suit at your disposal again. And a better one, that isn’t just a red hoodie and a pulled up black mask around your mouth.”
“Circumstances… aside, we at least wanted you to have this.” Tubbo says. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, with Zephyrus and all that, now.” He reaches out to rest a hand on Tommy’s. “But, no matter what, we’re still your team, Red— are you crying?”
“No,” Tommy sniffles. “You’re crying . That’s— that’s kind of cringe, not gonna lie. I’m em-embarrassed for you.” He rests the suit back in it's box, tilting his head down to avoid anyone looking too closely at his face. It’s somehow this that finally breaks him, huh?
“Awwww,” Tubbo coos. “Come on, big man, now you’re gonna make me cry too.”
“Good.”
It’s been five months, two weeks, and two days since Tommy Innes moved out of his terrible apartment that he shared with his two best friends. In those five months, two weeks, and two days, he finally felt like he was getting the chance to be a kid again, not someone with powers that no one else wanted, and not living in the bad part of town no one wanted to protect.
But he’s been with Tubbo and Ranboo for years , so much that he’s long since lost count of them.
In the morning, they’ll figure out what to do. For now, he just drifts off to sleep, his head resting on Ranboo’s shoulder and his arm around Tubbo.