Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy Innit was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

First he’d woken up late because he’d forgotten to plug in his phone, which meant his alarm hadn’t gone off, which meant he was late for his graveyard shift at work. Joy. Lovely. Nothing new there.

But then when he’d actually gotten to work, he’d gotten into a spat with Jack Manifuck. Which, you know, wouldn’t be that big a deal, except that Jack was his boss.

And then one of the fryers had caught fire, and despite the fact that Tommy had been on the other side of the fucking building , he had been blamed, fired, and kicked out of the building so fast he hadn’t been able to grab his stuff.

Which now led to him walking through the slums of the city in the dead of night so he could get back to his apartment and brainstorm on how to get a new job before his rent was due.

It didn’t help that he could feel his power buzzing in the back of his mind, primed to activate and giving him the beginnings of a headache.  He knew it wouldn’t actually activate until he was in immediate danger (or unless he asked it to), but it never liked when he walked around his neighborhood at night.

He lived in one of the poorest districts of the city-state, which meant his area was much more prone to muggings and such.  He was normally able to avoid anything serious—the buzzing in his head tended to amplify when he got within 100 meters of anything that could potentially threaten him.

Though, the vigilantes lately had been doing a great job at curbing the crime rate.

He passed an alleyway, tensing when he heard scuffling in the darkness. His first thought was wondering why the buzzing in his head hadn’t picked up, but upon the realization that oh, his power wasn’t acting up , he relaxed slightly.  Whatever was back there clearly wasn’t a threat to him.

Didn’t stop him from quickly stepping back and away from the alley entrance, pressing his back to the wall.

He discreetly peeked his head around the corner, narrowing his eyes into the darkness to try and see what was happening deeper in the alley.

He blinked.

Well, speak of the devil-

Standing about halfway down the alley to the next street, a large imposing figure was cornering someone in the darkness.  One would normally assume that the figure was mugging the cornered someone, until you took a closer look and realized he was wearing a large red cape that draped just barely above the ground. And a boar skull.

Orion.

The Hunter vigilante had appeared years ago, always keeping to the poorer districts and always managing to evade the heroes and villains out to get him.

Holy shit!

Tommy wouldn’t call himself a fan of Orion, but he had immense respect for the guy.  He was strong, brutal more often than not, but he wasn’t just some random brute running around and beating random people for the heck of it.  

The man was also insanely smart, and Tommy had seen enough videos of the guy to know he had a knack for strategy.  

He’d also seen enough videos and news articles to know that if someone managed to catch Orion’s attention, then they deserved whatever was coming to them.

Which was why Tommy was confused as hell as to why Orion was cornering some random teenager with his signature sword in a dark alley at nearly two in the morning when said teenager’s appearance just screamed innocence.

The guy must have been around Tommy’s age, though he was clearly lacking in the height department when compared to Tommy.  The kid looked completely terrified, clutching his arm where Tommy could see a shallow cut that was bleeding lightly. He just seemed to ooze innocence and naivety to the point that Tommy trusted him immediately.

So he decided to step in and help him.

Tommy slunk around the corner, stepping quietly along the wall until he could duck behind a dumpster, trying very hard not to breathe through his nose.

He darted forward, ducking behind another dumpster on the other side of the alleyway before poking his head out, trying to get a better view of the confrontation.

The boy had tried to step around Orion and had gotten shoved back against the wall, crying out as he hit his injured arm.

What the hell was up with Orion?!  He was basically assaulting this kid!

Then again…

Now that Tommy was closer, Orion looked...off. He was clutching his head like he had a migraine, and he was muttering under his breath like he was speaking to someone.  Tommy knew he had a protégé, he might have been speaking over an earpiece, but still…

The aforementioned boy’s eyes drifted past Orion, and they made eye contact.  The boy’s brown eyes were terrified, and they just seemed to scream that he ‘needed help’, ‘I didn’t do anything’, ‘I’m innocent’, ‘help me help me help me!’.

Tommy put a finger to his lips, and the boy’s eyes widened. He turned to Orion and “What the fuck do you want from me?!” 

“Give it... back,” Orion practically growled out, hand on his head clutching tighter.

“I didn’t take anything!”

Tommy blinked.  Okay, acting as a distraction works too.

Now that just left the issue of how the actual fuck Tommy was gonna get the kid away from a vigilante literally nicknamed ‘The Hunter’.

How do I get rid of him?

Tommy blinked, and glanced at the ground.

There, shimmering faintly red on the ground, were footprints. Footprints that he knew only he could see.

There was a trail of them, dancing across the alleyway, and even though Tommy couldn’t see in the darkness, he knew that those footprints were placed in clear patches of asphalt, void of any puddles of old rainwater and trash, anything that would make a sound when he stepped there.

The trail led directly up to Orion’s back, and there, glowing softly on the man’s shoulder, visible only to him, was a small prick of red light.

Tommy grinned. 

Target acquired.

In a heartbeat, Tommy was dashing across the alley, footsteps landing lightly and precisely on the bright-red ghostprints that his power showed him.  Within seconds he was directly behind Orion, completely unnoticed by the guy, and staring at the red pinprick of light on the man’s right shoulder.

It was less of a realization, and more of an instinctual understanding of what he was supposed to do in that moment, a quiet hum, his hand reaching up almost of its own accord.

His fingers grazed the man’s shoulder, and the man tensed, starting to turn around, but it was already too late.

Tommy squeezed his fingers together, and fucking nerve-pinched Orion.

The man’s already tense shoulders tightened even more before turning to mush, and the man crumpled at Tommy’s feet.

Tommy and the boy both stared down at him, Tommy’s arm still raised in the air in a pinch, before he let out a disbelieving laugh. “Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked!”

The boy just turned his innocent eyes up to meet Tommy’s and gaped. “You mean you didn’t know it would work?!”

Tommy shrugged, finally lowering his arm.  “I mean, of fucking course I knew it would work, but knowing it’ll work and actually seeing it work is- I mean, come on , I just defeated the city's best vigilante with two fingers!”

The boy turned his eyes back down to Orion’s unconscious form and stared, innocently. “....fair.”

Tommy’s eyes trailed down the boy’s arm, catching on the sight of bright red dripping down his arm, visible even in the dim light. “Oh shit, you’re hurt. I forgot.”

The boy waved him off, reaching his left hand up to cover the wound on his arm.  “It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.”

Tommy glared at him. “How bad are you hurt?”

{hum}

Tommy glanced at the boy, frowning when nothing appeared in his vision, even though he could physically see the cut.  He did understand, though, that there wasn’t anything serious.

Still, infection was a thing that existed, so...

“Come on,” Tommy said, reaching a hand forward and grabbing the boy’s own. “I can take you to my place and get you fixed up.”

The boy’s smile strained a little as he laughed innocently .  “Oh, that’s fine big man, you don’t have to-”

“It’s not a big deal, honest,” Tommy insisted, tugging the hand lightly, trying to satisfy the aching need to help the kid out, injured and helpless against fucking Orion of all people-

“No!” the kid snaps, yanking his hand back, and Tommy blinks. He suddenly looked really ashamed, and Tommy couldn’t possibly begin to fathom why— “...I’m not gonna make you take me to your home against your will.”

Tommy blinked again. What the fuck was this kid on? This wasn’t against his will, he was just trying to help-

And then like a fog or curtain rising, the aura the boy seemed to exude—the one that screamed innocence, and helplessness, and a need to be helped—vanished. The buzzing in his head lessened slightly, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head was already yelling at him for being in a dark alley at night, he probably would have noticed it a lot sooner.

Tommy shook his head lightly, and when he looked up, he seemed to see the kid in a whole new light.  He...didn’t look fucking innocent at all. In fact, he looked like the most mischievous fucker Tommy had ever laid his eyes on, the kind of guy who ran around and tied people’s shoe laces together when they weren’t looking, or punched old people, or built bombs as a hobby.

At least, he would have looked like that if he didn’t look exceedingly guilty.

What the fuck just happened?

{hum}

Tommy’s eyes widened.  Oh, shit.

That was the guy’s power. To make himself look like he wasn’t a threat.

Tommy glanced down at Orion, the man still slumped at their feet.  Orion had actually fought off the effect. It took some effort, clearly, but still…

Tommy was impressed.

He looked back at the boy.  He was shifting nervously from foot to foot under Tommy’s gaze, pointedly looking anywhere but at Tommy or at the body at their feet.

“...so?” Tommy said, raising an eyebrow. “You coming or what?”

The boy’s eyes shot up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “Wha-? Huh?”

“You coming or not?” Tommy pressed, pointing down at Orion. “Cuz I’m not sure how long he’s staying dow—” he trailed off.

Oh shit, that might be a good thing to check.

How long until Orion wakes up?

Instead of the hum he was expecting, he saw a small timer appear in his vision, counting down the seconds.  The timer thing didn’t usually happen, but he couldn’t really focus on the oddity of it, considering said timer had less than a minute left.

“Shit!” he yelled, grabbing the boy’s hand again. “Come on! He’s about to wake up!”

The guy yelped as Tommy half dragged him out of the alley, sprinting down the alley and around the corner as fast as he could go.

What’s the best way to get out of sight and home?

A trail lit up in his vision, a small thread of light winding down and across the far end of the street, into another series of alleys.  Tommy followed without hesitation, booking it down the dark street.

“W-Wait! What’re you doing?!” the boy yelled, trying to keep his balance as Tommy dragged the much shorter boy behind him.

“Taking you home, bitch,” Tommy hissed back, as they ducked into another alley system. “I’m Tommy, by the way.”

“Tubbo,” the boy replied. “But why are you helping me? I’m not...uhh...—”

“Using your power or whatever, I know,” Tommy shot back, ducking around a corner and missing the way Tubbo’s eyes snap up to meet the back of his head. “Dick move, by the way—”

“Wait, but...wha-? How did—?”

“—but you apologized, at least,” Tommy barreled on as they popped out onto a familiar side street. His power led him in a slight detour that he wouldn’t have taken otherwise, but he wasn’t gonna question it. “And you’re still bleeding.  Put two and two together, big man.”

Tubbo dragged his feet, yanking his arm back.  Tommy ground to a halt and turned to glare back at him. “You’re still gonna help me?” Tubbo asked quietly.

“No, I’m taking you home for tea and crumpets, what the fuck do you think?”

Tubbo didn’t move for a second, and Tommy rolled his eyes, stomping back and grabbing Tubbo’s hand before turning back around and starting to jog.  He didn’t notice Tubbo rapidly blinking behind him.

After a few minutes of silent jogging, Tommy rounded a corner to find himself on his street.  He glanced around, noting the empty sidewalks before following the red trail to the door of his apartment complex. “Come on.”

They ducked inside, and Tommy dragged them over to the elevator.  Honestly, it was a miracle that the thing even worked, considering the appearance of the rest of the building, but it made sense when you considered that the elderly landlord lived on the top floor.

Clementine would probably break both her legs if she tried to use the rickety stairs.

Tubbo glanced at him in confusion as they boarded the elevator, but kept silent as Tommy pressed the button to the top floor with his knuckle. His hand was covered in blood from gripping Tubbo’s.

Tommy grabbed Tubbo’s shoulders and turned him to face him, doing a once over in the brighter light.

The kid wasn’t too filthy, all things considered, though his jacket was gonna take some effort to fix, what with the slash in the upper arm and the blood stains that were definitely already setting in.

The cut was still bleeding sluggishly, but it didn’t look very deep.  Honestly, with how out of it Orion looked trying to fight off the effects of Tubbo’s power, it was probably an accident.

The doors opened and Tommy stepped out, leaving Tubbo to follow as he headed right. He made his way to the farthest door on the right of the hall, pulling his keys with a tiny Minecraft cow keychain out of his pocket and jamming the key into the lock, jiggling it slightly before it turned.

“Welcome to Big Man Innit’s abode,” Tommy announced in a deadpan, tossing his keys onto the tiny entryway table.

“Wait, you live here?” Tubbo asked incredulously.

Tommy threw a glance over his shoulder. “I just said ‘welcome to my abode’.  That would imply that I live here, Tubso.”

“It’s Tubbo,” Tubso replied, glaring. “But…”

“But what?”

“You have an upper district accent like me! Clearly you grew up there, at least. So why are you here? In the low districts? And on the East end, no less?”

“...you do realize just how hypocritical you sound, right?” Tommy shot back, heading for his tiny bathroom where he kept a first aid kit in the mirror cabinet.

“But I still live in the upper districts!” Tubbo insisted, following Tommy and standing in the bathroom door. “I’m only here because I got bored and wanted to yoink shi— why the fuck is there a ferret in your bathtub?”

Tommy closed the mirror to see Tubbo staring past him at the small furry creature splashing about in his tub.

“First off, that’s an otter.  Second off, stop staring. It’s quite rude, and you are going to offend her.”

Tubbo turned wide disbelieving eyes on him. “You just... have a pet otter?”

“Oh no, it’s not a pet,” Tommy answered, brushing past Tubbo to move into the tiny main room of the apartment.

It wasn’t much.  A ratty couch left by the previous occupants across from a tiny box tellie he had scavenged and fixed up.  The room bled into a small kitchen area by the front door, furnished with similarly scavenged and repaired equipment.

“If it’s not a pet, then why—?”

“On the couch,” Tommy interrupted.

“We are not just glossing over the fact you have a wild animal in your—!”

“Yes, we are. Now shut up and sit down before you bleed out on my living room floor.”

Tubbo sat down with a huff, cradling his arm and trying to stem the blood flow to keep blood off the couch.  Tommy knelt down and set the first-aid kit on the ground, flipping the top open.

“Take off your jacket,” Tommy ordered, pulling out some gauze and antibiotic cream.

“Take me to dinner first,” Tubbo muttered, yelping when Tommy slapped his knee.

“You’re not funny. Stop trying,” Tommy said, while pulling out supplies to treat a stab wound.

Tubbo rolled his eyes and maneuvered his arm out of the jacket, wincing as the wet material clung to the wound and pulled at the flesh.

“Ow ow ow ow,” Tubbo muttered, finally extracting his arm. Tommy reached up and inspected the wound gently, turning his arm over to see the condition.

What’s the best way to treat this?

His vision was drawn to his first-aid kit, highlighting the gauze he was grabbing as well as a small bottle of peroxide. Tommy frowned. 

{hum}

“Alright, I need to clean it up and stop the bleeding,” Tommy said, ripping off a strip of gauze and balling it up before pressing it to the wound.

It wasn’t a very long slash, thankfully.  It started just above his elbow and went about halfway up the side of his arm, and the bleeding had clearly already started to slow.  Still, it took a couple handfuls of gauze to soak up and wipe away all of the blood.

“Just gonna warn you now,” Tommy said, pressing another wad of gauze to the lip of the peroxide bottle, dampening the wad. “...this is gonna sting.”

“Why would it holy fucking shit fuck ow ow ow—”  

Tubbo let out a disturbingly long list of swears as Tommy pressed the peroxide-soaked bandages to the wound. “Look, unless you want infection due to alley germs, I suggest you let me work, now stop fucking squirming bitch!”

“Stop trying to kill me!”

“It’s fucking disinfectant! It’s helping you!”

“Then why does it burn?!”

“Will you fucking shut the fuck up—!”

After ten more minutes of fussing and colorful swears from either member of the pair, Tommy managed to disinfect, tape, and wrap the wound. “Fucking there.” Tommy muttered. “Now, is there anywhere else that got injured?”

Tubbo huffed and turned away, gently prodding at the bandages around his arm. “Like I’d fucking tell you , hellspawn.”

Tommy just gave him a deadpan stare. “Tubso—” “TUBBO!” “—unless you have literally been stabbed in the dick, I can assure you that nothing is gonna hurt as bad as the peroxide did. Now fucking tell me what hurts.”

“...I feel like I have a bruise the size of Kinoko on my back from when he shoved me into the wall,” Tubbo muttered.

“There, thank you,” Tommy said, standing up. “Now lift up the back of your shirt.”

“Take me to dinn—”

Tommy immediately shoved a finger into the bandage on Tubbo’s arm, eliciting a yelp and a punch to the arm. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“It wasn’t funny the first time, why would the second time be any different?” Tommy responded, rubbing his arm. “Now lift.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes but complied, turning away and grabbing the hem of his shirt, rolling it up to give Tommy a clear view of his back.

It...wasn’t too bad, as far as bruises went. Not pleasant, clearly, but considering he just got reverse-mugged, not too bad.

What’s the best way to treat bruises?

His attention was drawn to his fridge, and he nodded, rising to grab an ice pack.  He didn’t have any frozen peas, so he just filled a plastic baggie with ice cubes from his freezer before wrapping it in a towel and pressing it to Tubbo’s back.

Tubbo hissed and arched away, Tommy following his movement with the bag. “Cold cold cold cold—”

“Lean against the back of the couch to hold it in place,” Tommy instructed, ignoring Tubbo’s muttering. “Think you can hold still for twenty minutes?”

“I don’t know, can I?” Tubbo sneered back, leaning back regardless.

“That’s not how that phrase works,” Tommy muttered.

“Well, I say it does, so fight me,” Tubbo shot back.

Tommy went to reply, but the slightly crazed look in the boy’s eyes made him back down mentally.

Yeah, nope. I’d prefer to continue living, thank you.

“Y’know what? I don’t care. But could you at the very least tell me what the fuck you stole that put a broomstick up Orion’s ass?”

“I wouldn’t say it was a broomstick . If anything it was more like I shoved a taser up his ass.”

Tommy stared at him. “Okay, ow. Also, why? Also, you didn’t answer the ques—”

“What do you mean why? He was basically mugging me, I’d say that’s a very valid reason to shove a taser up someone’s ass.”

Tommy growled. “Okay, yes, I agree, but again, why was he mugging you in the first pla—?!”

“Actually, what would happen if you got a taser shoved up your ass?”

He sighed.

“It would probably cause the muscles in your ass to seize up, after which you would lose all control and empty your bowels on the sidewalk,” Tommy deadpanned, glaring at Tubbo.

Tubbo just stared up at him in equal measures amazement, curiosity, and disgust.  “Oh shit, you’re right.” He grimaced. “Ew.”

“Tubbo?”

“Hmm? Yes?”

Tommy grips the boy’s arm, directly above the wound. “Answer. The question.”

“Why should I!?”

Tommy glares at him. “...because I just saved your ass from the strongest vigilante in the city while being essentially mind controlled by you , still took pity on you, and invited you into my home after you stole something from said vigilante which could potentially end up with him breaking down my door at some point in the near future.”

“....”

“...”

“..sounds like a personal problem.”

Tommy continued to glare.

“...nothing you say could make me divulge that information.”

“I have homemade cookies—”

“What was the question?”

Tommy sighed, releasing Tubbo’s arm. “Of fucking course,” he muttered. Walking over to the cabinet and pulling out the container of cookies.

He walked back over to Tubbo, but before Tubbo could grab the cookies, Tommy yanked it out of reach and stared at him.

Tubbo glared right back. “Cookie first.”

Tommy groaned and popped the container open, tossing a cookie to him.  Tubbo grabbed it and immediately ate half the thing in one go.  He grimaced. “Geez, what’d you put in this?”

“Wait for it.”

Tubbo gave him an odd look but took another smaller bite, chewing quietly before his eyes widened.

“...”

“...well?”

“Did you put drugs in this?”

“What the fuck?! No!”

“There’s no way something this good doesn’t have drugs. Are you fucking drugging me?!”

“No, I’m not fucking drugging you—! They’re fucking peanut butter cookies!”

“Then why do they taste like childhood?!”

“That’s what I was going for!”

“No. NO! Give me your dealer!”

“Is that why you’re in the lower districts? For fucking DRUGS?!”

“Oh, so me wanting drugs is crossing the line, but me robbing somebody isn’t?”

“SO YOU ADMIT YOU STOLE FROM ORION!”

“THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID!”

“THAT IS LITERALLY EXACTLY WHAT YOU SAID!”

“Stop reverse psychology-ing me! Get out of my house!”

“THIS IS MY FUCKING HOUSE SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Tubbo opened his mouth to shout something back, but Tommy just shot forward and shoved another cookie into the boy’s mouth, effectively silencing him.

And then Tubbo started choking.

Tommy pointed a finger at Tubbo and laughed, ignoring the way Tubbo was spewing cookie chunks all over his stained and wobbly coffee table.

After about five seconds, though, he calmed down his laughter and walked into the kitchen. “I’ll grab some water,” he said, still with a hint of mirth in his voice.

A few seconds later, Tubbo was easing the tension in his throat, sipping on the water while glaring daggers at Tommy.

Tommy just returned it with a shit eating grin.

“Feeling better?” Tommy asked.

“I will castrate you in your sleep and nail your testicles to the door frame like a twisted version of the Passover, dickhead.”

Tommy just stared at him for a moment, Tubbo glaring back, before both boys burst into laughter, Tommy yelling, “What the fuck kinda threat was THAT?!”

After a moment, their laughter calmed, Tubbo wincing as he pressed a little too hard on the bruises on his back.

There were a few seconds of silence before Tubbo asked quietly, “So….what do you want?”

“What?” Tommy asked from the kitchen, putting away his container of cookies. 

“What did you want in return?”

Tommy stared at him, confused. “What are you on about?”

“As your favor. What did you want in return for helping me?” Tubbo clarified.

“Oh,” Tommy said. “Nothing.”

Tubbo stared at him.  “What?”

Tommy shrugged. “Nothing. Why would I want anything from you?”

“....quit fucking with me.”

“I’m not!”

“So you’re telling me,” Tubbo said, the look he was giving clearly disbelieving. “...that you rescued me from Orion, brought me to your home, and patched me up...and you don’t expect a favor?”

Tommy winced.  He’d hoped Tubbo wouldn’t have been aware of the favor system, since he clearly lived in the upper district.

In the lower districts, everybody was familiar with the favor system.  If you helped someone out, a favor was expected, no exception.  Didn’t matter what you helped them with, big or small, they were expected to pay back via favor.

And if you were one of the lucky few who got a favor from someone important? Like a hero or mob boss?

Well, Tommy had seen plenty of people exploit the fuck out of their favors.  Thankfully, it was mostly cash related, though Tommy had heard of a couple sleazy people use their favor to request hits on people they didn’t care for.

“Uhhh, nope!” Tommy said quickly, shaking his head. “No favor required. None whatsoever. Nope.”

Tubbo continued to stare at him, eyes narrowed. “....bullshit. What do you want?”

“Nothing!” Tommy yelled, throwing his hands in the air before moving to clean up the first-aid kit on the ground. “I don’t need a fucking favor for patching up a couple scratches.”

“It was literally a stab wound,” Tubbo deadpanned, watching Tommy carefully.

“My point still stands,” he sighed, shutting the first-aid kit shut with a click.   As he rose to take the kit back to the bathroom, Tubbo’s hand shot out and gripped his.  

Tommy flinched.  The grip wasn’t hard, but it was still firm, and when he turned his eyes down to meet Tubbo’s, he was met with the most serious expression he’d seen from him tonight.

Which is saying a lot, considering he was mugged.

“I don’t like owing people,” Tubbo said, tone just as serious as his look. “Especially people I don’t know.  Name something, and I’ll get it done.”

“Seriously, Big Man,” Tommy said nervously, averting his eyes. “I don’t need—”

Tubbo’s grip tightened ever so slightly, and he winced.

“Fucking...you know what? You can start by letting go,” he muttered, yanking his hand away.  Tubbo had the sense to look slightly guilty, at least.

He was still looking at him expectantly.

“Uggghhhhh,” Tommy moaned, rubbing a hand down his face.  He peeked between his fingers to meet eyes with Tubbo before rolling his eyes and moving towards the bathroom. “Fine, if you are that desperate, just...I dunno, replace the medical supplies I used on you.”

Tubbo remained silent while Tommy went into the bathroom, shoving the kit into the empty mirror cabinet.  He scratched the otter on the head lightly before walking out of the bathroom to see Tubbo still staring at him.

“...that’s it?”

“Yup,” Tommy said, popping the ‘p’. “Just get me some gauze and peroxide. You know where I live, you can just drop it off at the door whenever you get it.”

“....”

“...”

“...that’s it?”

“Oh my fucking- YES!” Tommy yelled. “What do you want to replace the ice too? Just buy me a fucking slushie or something—” 

An idea popped into his head, and he continued as he walked back over to the couch. “Or, fine. How ‘bout this? If you come across any better medical supplies, like a better kit or something, get that for me. An upgrade wouldn’t hurt.”

That finally seemed to satisfy Tubbo, who looked at Tommy with a grin. “So, you just want better medical supplies?”

Tommy nodded. “Yup. That’s it.”

If Tommy was a wiser man, he probably would have been more concerned with the look in Tubbo’s eyes.  The look that made it seem like Tommy had just changed his life.

Or that he had just shown him a new religion.

“ON IT!” Tubbo yelled, and then promptly vanished.

Tommy blinked at the empty space on his couch for a moment before snapping his head around, scanning his apartment. But nope!

Tubbo was gone.

“What the actual—”

Tommy paused as he noticed the tiniest hint of buzzing in the back of his head.

It was subtle, nothing like the incessant droning that he got whenever he was walking around at night.

It did remind him of the way his power seemed to grow just ever so slightly louder when he was being affected by Tubbo’s power.

He relaxed.  The already quiet buzzing was fading, so Tubbo was probably making his way out of the building.

Tommy froze.

“That fucker never told me what he stole!”

“Tommy.”

“Manifuck.”

He and Jack glared at each other from across the counter of Jack’s restaurant, and if looks could kill, the both of them would be puddles on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Jack demanded, arms crossed as he glared.

“I’m here to get my shit, since you didn’t let me last night,” Tommy shot back. He held up his phone, which showed just a blank screen.  “My phone died on the way home, and I left my charger.”

Jack snorted disdainfully and rolled his eyes, leaning under the counter and gracelessly chucking a plastic bag at Tommy, who caught it easily.  He opened it and glanced inside to see his belongings, his charger in clear view on top.

He could sense the dude behind him getting antsy and wanting to order.

“There, you have your shit,” Jack said, re-crossing his arms. “Now get the fuck out of my store.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy said. “What about my final paycheck?”

“You can pick it up at the end of pay period like everybody else,” Jack sniffed. “I’m not dealing with the extra paperwork so you can get your money a few days early.”

Tommy glared back. Yeah, well he didn’t want to have to come back and deal with Jack anymore than he had to.  Plus his rent was due soon, and he didn’t want to have to ask old Clem for another extension. She was already gracious enough with him as it was.

“But—”

“Nope!” Jack interrupted. “You either come in next Friday to get it, or you can bloody starve, I don’t give a shit. Now get out, you’re holding up the line.”

Yeah, said line being a single overly-tall fucker in a hideous yellow sweater.

Tommy flipped Jack off and turned around, brushing past said tall fucker. “Sorry,” he muttered.

He was about two steps from the front door when his power started screaming in the back of his head.  He dropped the bag in surprise, clutching his head.

He glanced to his left to see his power illuminating something outside.

He couldn’t directly see it—the object was on the other side of a solid wall—but his power outlined it in faded red lines, showing an x-ray profile as it hurtled toward the store.

His eyes widened and he turned. “GET DOWN!” he yelled, shoving tall fucker toward the counter with a yelp before he leaped behind it, dragging the man with him.

“OI!” Jack yelled, grabbing Tommy. “What the fuck are you—”

Tommy grabbed Jack as well and pulled him and Tall Fucker down behind the counter just as the armored truck plowed through the left wall, tearing through the sandstone before cutting across the store diagonally and through the front windows, leaving a gaping hole in both walls.

There was a crash outside, but before Tommy could rise up to catch a peek, gunshots rang out and he flinched back down below the counter.

What’s happening?!

{hum}

Information was flashing across his vision, his power giving him details of the situation even as it showed him every possible option and escape route, highlighting objects that would be useful as weapons, mapping out paths through the kitchen with glowing red lines, the brighter ones marking the safest and fastest ways out.

His power always went into overdrive when he was in immediate danger, acting of its own accord to provide him the best chance of survival and/or escape.

Tommy pointedly ignored the suggestion to use Jack as a human meat shield.

“What the fuck is happening?!” Jack yelled out next to him.

Tommy peeked over the counter again to see the lobby littered with shards of glass and stone, taking in the scene outside.

“Armored truck robbery gone wrong,” Tommy explained. “Quickly turned into a high-speed chase from the police before the driver lost control and drove through the wall.”

“Well that was dumb of them,” Tall Fucker said next to him plainly. Tommy turned to see the man grabbing a wrapped burger off the floor, calmly unwrapping it and taking a casual bite like they weren’t cowering behind a counter. “Armored trucks have GPS trackers on them. They weren’t going to get far.”

{hum}

“They most likely planned to hand off the funds when they got out of sight before using the truck as a distraction.  The money gets away while the cops are chasing the tracker before they ditch it and run.”

Tall Fucker raised an eyebrow at him before swallowing.  “You a detective or something?”

Tommy rolled his eyes with a scoff, before throwing a thumb over his shoulder at Jack. “No, I worked for this fucker. Key word being work- duh . Past tense.”

“You set the fryer on fire!”

Tommy whirled around. “I was in the lobby. How is that my fault!?”

His eyes widened as he saw a red outline next to Jack’s head, linked by a small translucent ‘thread’ to a large metal tray on the counter across from them.

He lunged forward and grabbed it before shoving Jack aside, gripping the tray and holding it in the air where the outline showed.

“What’re you—?!”

A second later, an explosion shook the building, and Tommy’s arms shook as shrapnel from the bomb tore through the wooden counter and impacted the tray, dozens of dents appearing in the metal.

The three were silent for a moment before Jack muttered quietly “Holy... Primes.”

Yeah, no fucking kidding, Tommy thought.  If Tommy’s power didn’t warn him, Jack would be looking less like a Manifuck and more like a block of Swiss cheese.

“How did you do that?” Tall Fucker asked, looking ever so slightly awed.

Tommy shrugged. “Intuition,” he answered vaguely.

Tall Fucker narrowed his eyes.  “That is not helpful in the slightest—”

“Hold this above your head,” Tommy interrupted, handing the extremely dented metal tray over to the man.

The man took it questioningly but put it over his head nonetheless, covering himself like it was an umbrella. “Why—?”

A piece of the ceiling broke off and thudded off the metal, the man yelping at the impact as the tray was suddenly forced down and bumped the top of his head.

“We need to move,” Tommy decided. “The front of the building’s too unstable, and the fighting is just going to get worse.”

“How come?” Jack asked, suddenly seeming far more willing to listen to Tommy.

Before he could answer, though, there was an animalistic roar from outside that caused all three of them to freeze. Tommy looked over the counter again just in time to see a large, see-through tiger sprint through the hole in the building.

“Sapnap is here,” Tommy answered, watching the tiger leap at the gunmen outside. “His animals tend to get thrown around a lot, and I’d rather not have a spirit bear fall on top of me.”

Sapnap was a bit of a local hero.  Despite having been born in the lower districts, the man had risen through the ranks of the Hero Corps fairly quickly, even becoming a member of the Dream Team.

There was another explosion outside, and Tommy grabbed Jack’s sleeve and started dragging him deeper into the back of the restaurant. “C’mon.  We gotta move.”  

“What about him?” Jack asked.

Tommy paused, looking over his shoulder to see Tall Fucker peering over the counter.  The man was glaring at the sight outside like it had personally offended him, and his hand was at his side, palm up like he was holding a baseball.

Or gathering power.

The buzz in Tommy’s head heightened slightly, and he rolled his eyes, crawling forward and gripping the man’s arm.

Tall Fucker flinched and whipped his head around to look at him. “What the fuck are yo—?”

“I don’t know what you’re planning on doing,” Tommy hissed, yanking him back. “...but civilians aren’t allowed to use powers in public.  So unless you want to be arrested for whatever the fuck you were about to do, drop it.”

The man glared at Tommy for a moment before sighing, settling back down around the counter. “A bit hypocritical of you, child.”

“Fuck you, I’m not a child,” Tommy spat. “And I don’t have a power.”

The man rolled his eyes. “And I’m the President of L’manberg.”

“Makes sense. You seem like a good liar.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“You really wanna die on this hill?”

Tall Fucker narrowed his eyes before sighing. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

Good question.

How do I keep us safe?

{hum}

“Our best bet is hiding in the refrigerator in the back,” Tommy said, tugging on the man’s sleeve and making his way back over to Jack, not stopping to see if Tall Fucker followed.  “It’ll be cold, obviously, but the walls are thicker, more insulated.  Less chance of being fucking shredded by shrapnel or stray bullets.”

“I don’t like the cold, though,” Jack whined, but followed Tommy nonetheless.

Tommy led them quickly through the back, pointedly ignoring the sound of Jack’s complaints behind him. 

“Move to the lower districts, they said,” the man muttered under his breath. “It’ll be better, they said. You’ll make more money. The rent is cheap. It’s getting safer. Fuck all of ‘em.”

“You whine like a fucking bitch, I hope you know that,” Tall Fucker said behind them.

“Fuck you, dude, I’m stressed!”

“In our defense,” Tommy said.  “Things like this are super rare nowadays with Orion patrolling.”

Which was entirely true.  Since Orion had shown up in the past few years, crime rate in the lower districts had plummeted so much that, based on actual statistics, the districts the Hunter patrolled were actually safer than the hero-patrolled districts, at least from major villain attacks.  Which spoke both to Orion’s skill and a lot to the heroes’ incompetence. 

He couldn’t do much about the common muggings and minor robberies, though. He was only one guy.

Needless to say, Orion and most heroes didn’t get along.

Still, from the sounds coming from outside, Sapnap was making quick work of the wanna-be-thieves.  Tommy still didn’t want to take any chances though.  He’d already prevented one death and a severe concussion today.

“Can Orion really be that good?” Tall Fucker murmured, seemingly to himself, as Tommy guided them around the corner. He gripped the handle of the walk-in refrigerator and yanked it open, motioning the others inside.

His power hummed , and he turned and flicked off the power for the refrigerator before turning and grabbing a stack of cleaning towels before joining the others inside.

“What are those for?” Jack asked, arms wrapped around himself.

“They’re not much, but they should keep us warm for now,” Tommy replied, yanking the door shut and plunging them into darkness.

“Oi!” Tall Fucker yelled. “Why’re the lights off?”

“Do you want it to be colder in here than it already is?” Tommy shot back. “I turned it off for now.”

“What about my produce?!” Jack yelled.

Tommy turned to where his voice was coming from and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the fact Jack couldn’t see it. “I think you’re produce is the least of your problems at the moment.”

He turned away, ignoring Jack’s sputtering, and faced the wall that he was pretty sure faced the front of the restaurant.

How do I see what’s happening outside?

The ghostly outlines appeared again, outlining the figures fighting outside.  Tommy could see the outline of the truck tipped on its side, and several figures were taking cover behind it: the thieves most likely, several of which were already sporting injuries.  At least one of them seemed to be powered, if the way he was swinging his arms like he was throwing projectiles said anything.  Tommy couldn’t tell what he was throwing, but his bet was on some type of pyrokinesis.

Or considering there were lots of explosions earlier, the dude could probably conjure grenades or some shit.

On the other end of the standoff, Tommy could make out a figure that was most likely Sapnap, considering he was taking cover behind the figure of a massive bear.  As Tommy watched, the outline of a hawk or falcon appeared on Sapnap’s arm, and he threw it into the air, where it flew up and immediately dive bombed the powered thief.

Tommy could hear the shriek all the way from inside the fridge, but he couldn’t tell if it was the falcon or the thief.

“Sapnap’s finishing things up,” Tommy said, turning to the others. His eyes had finally adjusted, but even still, he could only just make out the outlines of his fellow hiders in the darkness. “I say ten minutes at the most.”

He could tell Tall Fucker was staring at him. “...you are remarkably calm, considering we’re in the middle of a firefight.”

Tommy shrugged. “I’m not worried. What I am concerned about is what we’re gonna do for the next ten fucking minutes other than sit on our asses.”

They were silent for five seconds before Tall Fucker piped up with “I’ve got cards if you wanna play solitaire.”

“Isn’t...that a single-player game?” Tommy asked with a tilt to his head.

He could hear the smirk in the man’s voice as he replied, “Clearly you’ve never played competitive solitaire….”

…

Ten minutes later, the door to the refrigerator was cracked open from the outside, and Tommy had to resist the urge to hiss as the light pierced his vision.

The crack quickly widened, revealing a very confused Sapnap staring at them.

Which made sense, since there were three random dudes sitting on the floor of an industrial refrigerator wrapped in hand-towels and playing cards in total darkness while munching on fresh veggies.

Sapnap blinked at them. Tommy blinked back.

“...how are you guys playing in the dark?”

All three of them glanced at each other before turning to Sapnap and replying in unison, “Intuition.”

Sapnap just blinked again. Dude needed to get his eyes checked.

Jack reached forward and placed a card down. “Go fish.”

“That’s not how you fucking play!” Tommy and Tall Fucker yelled in unison.

Jack threw his hands up. “I’ve never played Old Maid before, what do you want from me!?”

“IT’S FUCKING SOLITAIRE, YOU WANK!”

…

The cops had already arrived to arrest the thieves by the time the three of them made it out of the building.  There were several ambulances, one of which was treating the powered thief.  His face and arms—which were handcuffed to the gurney with power suppressant cuffs—were covered in talon marks and cuts, the edges ever so slightly glowing blue.

Spirit wounds sucked ass to heal, apparently.

Tommy had already been ushered to an ambulance and wrapped in a shock blanket.  His aloof attitude concerned the paramedics slightly, but he just assured them he was a big man and wasn’t bothered, but they still made him sit in the back of the ambulance for a solid twenty minutes, which...rude.

Now, Tommy was picking his way back into the building, scanning the area before perking up at the sight of the plastic bag with his things in it.  He had dropped it midst the panic of a fucking truck hurtling in his general direction.

There was the sound of glass crunching behind him as he grabbed his stuff, turning to see Jack taking stock of the lobby.  His eyes were wide as he glanced at the debris strewn throughout the room, at the gaping hole in two of his walls, and the collapsed pieces of ceiling.  

Tommy really wanted to rub in the fact that karma’s a bitch, but even he could tell now wasn’t the time.  Jack was...not in a good place at the moment.

“...you good?” Tommy prodded hesitantly.

“What the fuck do you think?” Jack spat, keeping his gaze fixed on the damage.

Tommy flinched back.  “Fuck off, man, I’m just trying to help,” he shot back, ignoring the slight pang of hurt at the outburst.

Jack scoffed.  “Oh yeah, ‘cuz you’ve always been so willing to help before, asshole.”

“I just saved your fucking life! What the fuck do you mean?!”

Jack paused at that, just for a moment. “You did,” he admitted, voice softening just slightly.  He finally turned to look at Tommy.  “Thank you—”

Tommy gave a small smile.

“—now get the fuck out of my restaurant.”

The smile fell, and Tommy looked wide-eyed at Jack.  “...you’re kidding, right?”

Jack turned away. “Get. Out.”

“You fucking—!”

“Please.”

“....”

“....”

“Fuck you, Jack,” Tommy spat, the jab missing most of its bite.  He turned and stomped out of the restaurant, resisting the urge to kick out one of the remaining windows.

He seethed inwardly as he stomped down the sidewalk.  After a few meters, he paused and set down the bag, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself as he closed his eyes and rubbed his hands down his face.

It didn’t matter anyway.  Jack already got what was coming to him. There was no point making a bad situation worse.

“Hello, child.”

Tommy’s eyes shot open as he dropped his hands and whipped around.  Tall Fucker was casually strolling down the sidewalk like they hadn’t just been in a life-or-death situation not thirty minutes ago.

Then again, so was he.

“I’m not a child,” Tommy muttered, tilting his head in confusion. “What’d you want?”

Tall Fucker came to stop a few feet, cocking an eyebrow. “Now is that any way to treat a fellow villain attack survivor?”

Tommy scoffed. “Please, that was not a villain attack. Those were just a couple common crooks with some hired power muscle.”

Tall Fucker smirked. “Oh? Is that why Orion never bothered to show his face?”

Tommy shook his head. “Nah, he probably did show up and just stayed hidden.  He doesn’t like jumping in when heroes are already here.”

“What, is he afraid he’ll get in their way?”

This time it was Tommy’s turn to smirk. “Other way around, big man.  Most heroes tend to get distracted trying to fight him instead of the criminals, Sapnap being one of them.  Not that it would have done much.  Orion would have wiped the floor with Snappy’s animals.”

Tall Fucker hummed in thought. “Noted. What would you consider a villain fight, then?”

Tommy tilted his head.  “Mmm, maybe if Jägerbomb showed up, the chaotic fuck.  Or maybe Sewage Boy.”

Tall Fucker visibly cringed. “Ah, yes,” he said with disdain. “Sewage Boy.”

“Now,” Tommy crossed his arms. “Did you need something, or were you just here to annoy the fuck out of some random man you met thirty minutes ago?”

Tall Fucker scoffed.  “Please, if you’re considered a ‘man’, then I’m going bald.”

“I can see your hairline receding from here.”

“Fuck off, child.”

Tommy groaned and turned away. “Fuck you, asshole. I’m going home.”

“Wait! I’m sorry for calling you a child, gremlin,” Tall Fucker replied quickly, stepping forward quickly to catch up. “I wanted to give you something.”

Now if that wasn’t suspicious as fuck…

“Sorry, big man. I love drugs as much as the next guy, but I’m trying to go clean.”

Tall Fucker just halted in place. “Why would I sell drugs to a chil— ”

Tommy growled.

“Don’t you growl at me, gremlin!” 

The man sighed before reaching into his sweater pocket, tossing whatever it was over to Tommy. He caught the item before turning it over in his hands.

It was the paper container for a deck of playing cards.

“...what is this?”

Tall Fucker shrugged. “Found it next to the cash register after all the chaos died down. Figured it’d be a nice memento to remember the good times we had—”

“We played solitaire in a refrigerator.”

“Like I said, good times.”

And just like that, Tall Fucker abruptly turned around, tossing a wave over his shoulder. “Sorry about your paycheck, by the way,” he called over his shoulder.  “Jack sounds like a right asshole.”

Tommy stared at the man’s back as he rounded the corner.  The fuck was that about?

Tommy turned around and started walking back to his apartment, examining the card deck in his hands, still confused by the man’s abrupt departure and the sudden mention of his paycheck.

Tommy weighed the deck in his hands. At least, he assumed it was a deck.  It felt a little too light to be a full deck, now that he thought about it.  Who just left half a deck in the packaging?

He thumbed the flap of the case open, turning it over to dump the contents into his hand.

A tightly folded wad of cash fell into his waiting palm.

Tommy screeched to a halt, staring down at his hand.  The bills started opening up in his hand now that they were no longer confined to the case, and Tommy could see several hundred-dollar bills, as well as a good chunk of tens and twenties.

The fuck?

Who just leaves a wad of cash next to the cash register for someone to find?  That’s what Tall Fucker said, right? That he found it next to the regi...ster…..

Oh…

Ohhhh, that fucker robbed Jack, didn’t he?

…

...nice.

“Hey Clem!” Tommy called, grasping the light switch and flicking it repeatedly to get her attention.. Once she looked over, he put his hands up and started signing. “The timer just went off,” he signed as he spoke. “Want me to take them out, or should we wait a couple more minutes?”

“Oh, they should be ready by now,” old Clementine said with a chuckle, just a touch too loudly.  “Those are easy to burn, so we shouldn’t risk it.”

“Got it,” Tommy replied, making his way around into the kitchen area.  He grabbed some pot holders and opened the oven, pulling out the tray of puffs.  Clem joined him a moment later and grabbed the filling they had prepared earlier.

As they filled the pastries, they fell into a comfortable silence, the same comfortable silence they always fell into whenever they baked together.  With anyone else, in any other situation, Tommy would be talking up a storm, chatting about anything and everything that pops into his head.

But with Clementine, talking wouldn’t get him anywhere.  Her hearing nowadays was to the point where she was basically deaf, and he couldn’t sign while they worked, so instead they filled the silence with clatter of baking pans and wooden spoons.

Didn’t mean she never tried to start a conversation.

“So how’s the job search going?” she asked, gripping her pastry bag as she poked a hole in the puff, carefully filling it with custard filling.

He made a show of tilting his head in thought before making a face, wiggling his head back and forth in a “so-so” motion.

“It’s...going,” he signed clumsily before setting down his own pastry bag.  “No one wants to hire someone who looks like they’re still in highschool.”

It’d been a week already since the incident at Jack’s, and so far, Tommy hadn’t had any luck finding a new job.  Thankfully, Tall Fucker’s…‘gift’...had been enough to top off his rent payment for the month, so he had a bit more time to find a new place of employment.

But even his power had been having trouble finding a solution to this particular problem. Either it couldn’t provide an answer, or it just pointed out random newspaper ads that never ended up going anywhere.

Clem hummed to herself. “That’s true, I suppose. They want experience.”

“Oh, I’ll give them an experience, all right,” Tommy signed jokingly. Clem chuckled lightly as she worked, and Tommy reveled in the little hint of warmth that sound gave him as he picked his pastry bag back up.

After they filled each puff, they gently took the puff and dipped it in the bowl of melted caramel they had between them, coating one side of the puff before setting it on their own respective plate.

He decided to be a little creative today, dipping the occasional puff into a subsequent bowl of powdered sugar before stacking them so that there were a couple trails of white spiraling up the stack.

Tommy’s phone kept going off in his pocket, and when he finally paused to check it, he was greeted with the sight of half a dozen memes that Tubbo had found and sent him.

They all had to do with bees for some odd reason.

Tommy rolled his eyes with a smile and got back to work.  He and Clementine continued the process of filling and dipping until both of them had a small pyramid of cream puffs in front of them. 

“Well, that just about does it,” Clem piped up, dipping her spoon into the caramel and waving it over both pyramids, drizzling the golden syrup over the desserts.

“I’ll start cleaning up, then,” Tommy said, grabbing the bowls and quickly carrying them to the sink to rinse out.  He went to grab the baking tray as well, but Clem held up a hand.

“Oh, don’t worry about it today, dear. I’ll clean up,” she said.

He immediately shook his head. “Nope. I’m helping.”

Clementine just crossed her arms and gave him a Look™. “Don’t think you can out-stubborn me, young man. Go home. I’ll handle the clean up.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes at her. 

Clem just rolled her own. “I’ll be fine, Tom.  We’re done with baking, and the oven is off. I’m not at any risk of burning myself anymore.”

Their stare down continued for a moment longer before Tommy rolled his eyes as well, sighing heavily.  “Fine, I’ll go.” He stepped forward with a smile and gave her a quick hug. “Same time next week?”

“You know it!” she laughed.

He grinned at her and grabbed his tray, carefully balancing the small pyramid as he made his way to the door.  He hesitated at the door, looking back to see Clementine already busying herself with cleaning.

He sighed.  He knew she was alright, now that they were finished.  Clementine’s power was a bit of a double-edged sword.  She couldn’t feel temperature. To her, everything felt ‘just right’ to her.  She didn’t have to bundle up in the middle of winter, or feel like she was melting in the middle of summer.

That didn’t mean she was immune to burns though, which she had a tendency of getting whenever she cooked or baked.  When you’ve lived without a sense of hot or cold your entire life, you tend to forget that you can’t stick your hand into a lit oven to grab metal trays without damage.

It was also why the heating in this building was fucking atrocious.

When Tommy had found out about it, he’d immediately volunteered to do her cooking for her. She had vehemently refused, obviously, but eventually the two of them had reached a compromise.  

Tommy would come over once a week to check up on her, and they would bake together.  Didn’t matter what they made or how long it took, they just baked.  And it was a time of week they both looked forward to.

Though, if Tommy didn’t get a job soon, he wasn’t going to be able to afford rent next month, and there was no way in fuck he was leaving Clementine by herself.

How am I going to find a job in time?

He’d thought the question rhetorically, just mentally speaking to himself more than anything, so imagine his surprise when the door to Clementine’s front door lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

Tommy quirked an eyebrow before he repositioned the desserts in his arm, grasping the doorknob with his now-free hand and stepping out into the hallway of the apartment complex.  A trail of light led straight to his own door, and he followed, confused.

Was his power just going to show him another useless newspaper ad again?

He had to set the tray down so he could jimmy his key into the lock of the door, but after a moment, he set the tray down carefully onto his kitchen counter.

He glanced around his apartment, looking to see what got his power so worked up.

Nothing.

He did another scan, but his apartment was void of the red light, and that familiar hum was missing as well.

Tommy sighed dejectedly.  Guess he was on his own for this one.

He went to put the pastries in his fridge when the buzzer by his door started going off repeatedly, as if the person at the front of the building was smashing the button for his apartment nonstop.

He hurried over to the door, cringing at the buzzing came out distorted through the tinny speakers.  

He slammed a fist into the answer button. “OI! What the fuck is all the noise for!?”

He waited for a response, but the call remained silent. 

Tommy seethed. “If this is a fucking prank, it’s not fu—”

He ground to a halt as a quiet sniffle sounded through the speaker, and now that Tommy was paying closer attention, panicked breathing.

His blood ran cold.

“Michael? Hey, is that you bud?”

His buzzer sounded again, quick three presses followed by three long buzzes, and then three more quick ones.

S. O. S.

“Shit! I’m on my way down, Michael. Don’t move!”

Tommy threw his door open, slamming it behind him as he bolted for the elevator.  He slammed his finger into the call button, thanking Prime that the elevator was already on the top floor.

The entire ride down, Tommy’s foot tapped incessantly across the ground.  Why was this piece of crap so fucking slow?! He needed to get to Michael!

Finally , the doors creaked open, and Tommy squeezed through before they were even fully parted, sprinting across the lobby

He slammed the front door open, looking around frantically before spotting Michael sitting on the ground below the intercom system, holding himself tightly.

“Michael!” Tommy yelled, running over.

Tommy did a double take at the state of the kid.  His clothing looked scuffed, like he’d tripped on the sidewalk, and his hair was a disheveled mess, partially hiding the vitiligo covering the upper right portion of his face.

Michael, despite being only seven, prided himself on staying very neat and clean. The fact that he looked like he just crawled out of an alley threw Tommy off more than he cared to admit.

Said boy’s head shot up, and he scrambled to his feet and ran at Tommy. Michael barreled into Tommy’s stomach, tears trailing down his face.

Tommy knelt down, gently grasping Michael’s arms. “Hey, hey, you’re fine. It’s okay. I’m here.” He reached up a hand and tried brushing Michael’s face, but the tears kept falling, the boy clearly in a panic. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Michael pulled his face back, and Tommy watched as the boy’s mouth opened, trying so hard to form the words he wanted to say, but nothing came out except for quiet aborted and stuttering sounds.  Tommy noticed Michael had his hands up, like he was going to sign, but they were shaking so badly Tommy didn’t think he’d be able to understand him.

Finally, Michael just threw himself at Tommy again, tears falling fresh as he smacked his fist into Tommy’s chest a couple times before pulling back, grabbing Tommy’s shirt and yanking him forward.

“Woah, woah, hang on a sec!” Tommy yelped, trying to catch his balance. “Where are we going?”

Michael couldn’t answer, seemingly unable to do anything but half-drag Tommy down the steps of the building and onto the sidewalk.  Michael turned and pointed down the road, yanking frantically on Tommy’s shirt again.

It didn’t take Tommy long to spot the pink-haired girl laying on her back on the sidewalk, half of her body laying in the street itself.

“Oh fuck,” Tommy said quietly, rushing over.  Michael followed along behind, quietly sniffling to himself now that Tommy knew what was wrong.

“Hey, you alright?!” Tommy yelled as he ran, not quite expecting an answer.

Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don—

“I wouldn’t say ‘alright’ is the right word to use right now,” the girl groaned out in an upper accent, lifting her head and wincing slightly to look at the two boys approaching her. She smiled at Michael as she cradled her arm. “Hello again. Not gonna lie, I kinda thought you ran off and left me for a moment there.”

Michael sniffled again, but shook his head quietly. He stepped forward and nudged Tommy, pointing down at her.

Tommy turned to look at him as he crouched down. “Did she ask you to find help?” he asked Michael softly. Michael nodded and stepped behind him, putting Tommy between himself and the girl.

With a soft smile, Tommy reached over his shoulder and ruffled the kid’s hair. “You did great Michael, thank you. I’ll take it from here, alright?”

Michael gripped the back of his shirt and placed his forehead against Tommy’s back, nodding slowly so Tommy could feel it. He turned back to the girl, who was grimacing in pain.  “What’s hurting?”

The girl winced. “My arm. I think it’s broken.”

Tommy winced as well. “Ouch,” he said, watching as his power illuminated the wound. “Alright, do you think you could make it upstairs?”

“W-What?” she asked, confused. “Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”

Tommy let out a snort. “Ha. Funny joke.” He tilted his head at her. “Also, is there a reason you’re laid out on the sidewalk?” he asked as he reached forward to help her sit up.

The girl leaned forward and immediately grimaced, leaning back down. “Because every time I try to sit up, I hurt my arm.”

“...fair point, one sec.”

How should I treat her arm?

{hum}

He glanced around, his attention being drawn by the red thread leading back into the apartment.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back, Miss...uhh…” he turned back to her. “Sorry, what was your name?”

She blinked. “Oh, it’s Niki.”

He nodded. “Tommy. C’mon Michael, I need a hand.”

As they ran back to the apartment complex, Tommy tossed Michael his apartment key. “Can you run up and grab a couple of towels for me?”

Michael nodded as they entered the building, dashing for the elevator. Tommy, on the other hand, followed the thread back behind the “front desk” into the small cleaning closet.

“Now, what do I need in here…?” he asked himself, glancing around. A cardboard box in the corner lit up in his vision, empty save for some near-empty cleaner bottles.

He pulled out a pocket knife and cut off one side of the box before taking the piece back outside with him, as well as a roll of duct tape he noticed at the last minute.

Niki looked at him in confusion. “What’s with the cardboard?”

“I’m making a splint,” he replied, before blinking down at the cardboard. “...I think.”

“You think?”

“Shut up, I’m working on it.”

He sat down on the ground and pulled out his knife again, carving a line through the cardboard as he traced the thin line his power outlined.  After a few moments of cutting, folding, and taping, he had a small cardboard “tray” with a backing, just the right size for Niki to rest her arm in.

“Perfect,” he said. “Now we just need…”

Michael barreled into him from behind, startling him. “Hey! Oh, nice timing, kid!” he said, grabbing the towels from Michael.  He approached Niki’s side, careful not to jostle her arm.  “Sorry in advance, but this’ll probably burn a bit.”

Niki nodded firmly, setting her jaw. Tommy gently reached forward and took her arm, ignoring her wince.  From what his power was telling him, the break wasn’t serious. Probably just a fracture, so it wouldn’t need to be set.  It was starting to swell, though, so he should probably ice it once they get inside.

As gently as he could, he raised her arm and slid the cardboard sleeve under it before grabbing one of the towels and placing it in the gaps between her arm and the cardboard. After packing the gaps as best he could, he grabbed the other towel and fashioned a makeshift sling for the stint to rest in.

“There, that should do for now,” Tommy said. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

Carefully, Tommy helped Niki to her feet, steadying her whenever she had to pause when her arm got jostled a bit too hard. Once she was on her feet, Michael led the way back to the apartment building, holding the door open for the two of them as they went for the elevator.

“Do you...live here?” Niki asked hesitantly, eyeing the near-dilapidated staircase that no doubt broke several safety guidelines.

“Why the fuck does everyone ask that?” Tommy muttered as the elevator doors opened.  In a louder voice, he said. “Don’t worry. It may look like a shit hole—and it is—but the elevator works, which is more than you can say about most of the shit holes in the lower districts.”

The elevator gave a groan as it began to rise, and Niki shot him a nervous glance. “You’re sure this thing is safe to ride?”

Tommy shrugged. “Eh, probably not, but I haven’t died yet, so it’s got that going for it.”

She stared at him, and he blinked at her.  She raised an eyebrow in the universal ‘you ARE kidding, right?’ kind of look.

He smirked at her as the elevator reached the top floor, stepping out into the hall as Michael dashed ahead. He opened the door for the two of them again as Tommy waved Niki into his apartment.

He gestured to one of the bar stools sitting next to his kitchen counter. “Take a seat, don’t jostle your arm.”

Niki entered hesitantly, glancing around the small apartment.  Tommy appreciated the fact that she wasn’t glancing about in outright disgust—his apartment may be trash, but he at least kept it clean, thank you—but she couldn’t hide the concern on her face.

“Do...you guys live here by yourselves?” she asked hesitantly.  Before he or Michael could answer, however, Niki’s eyes fell on the counter and she froze. “Is...is that a croquembouche?” she asked incredulously.

Tommy blinked. “What the fuck is a croaking bitch?”

Niki sputtered, almost missing the stool as she sat when she spun at him.  “Wha- No, no no, cro-quem-bouche,” she stressed, pointing at the counter with her good arm.

He followed her finger and tilted his head, confused. “My pastry pyramid?” he asked when he saw her pointing at the stack of cream puffs he had hastily placed on the counter when the buzzer had started ringing earlier. “It’s just cream puffs that I—”

“Dipped in caramel and stacked in a pyramid before adding a caramel drizzle, yes, croquembouche!” Niki stressed, looking amazed. “Did you make this!?”

“Uh…” Tommy glanced to where Michael was watching them over the back of the couch, the boy just shrugging at him. He turned back to Niki’s expectant gaze. “Well, yeah, with Clem—?”

“Who’s Clem?” Niki asked. She glanced at Michael. “Is she your mom?”

Tommy immediately winced as Michael stilled on the couch, glancing at the door.  Tommy hoped Niki wouldn’t notice the way Michael’s hands started shaking, but he wasn’t that lucky today, it would seem.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Niki said apologetically, glancing at Tommy for help. “Is...umm, I just...just assumed—”

“Yeah, well you know what they say about assuming,” Tommy tried to add jokingly.  Some bite must have made his way into his voice against his will, however, as Niki winced and cast her gaze downwards, looking cowed.

Tommy sighed. “Hey, Michael,” he said gently, so as not to startle him. When he saw he had his attention, he prodded, “Could you go get the first-aid kit from the bathroom for me? I need to try to properly treat Miss Niki’s arm.”

Michael nodded and slid off the couch, walking to the bathroom door and opening it gently. Carefully.

Tommy didn’t miss the way the boy’s eyes tracked the front door like a villain was about to burst through..

As soon as Michael was out of the room, Niki piped up. “I am so sorry if I brought up a sore subject, I didn’t mean—”

Tommy held up a hand, sighing. “You’re fine, Niki. It’s not your fault.” He walked over to the couch and plopped down into it, leaning his head back to look at her upside down.  “And to answer your question, Clem is the landlord. She lives next door.” He flicked his hand in the general direction.

Niki seemed confused. “Do you...bake with your landlord often?”

“Yup,” Tommy replied. “Every week. She’s not allowed to bake by herself anymore.”

She quirked a brow at that. “Do I even want to know?”

Tommy shrugged. “She’s old and accident prone,” he simplified. The bathroom door opened, and Tommy peeked his head up only to laugh softly to himself. “Michael, put the otter back.”

“I’m sorry, the what now?”

Michael had walked out of the bathroom with the otter draped across his small shoulders, the furry little snake resting its head and front paws on the top of Michael’s own head.

The scene was adorable to say the least.

“C’mon Michael, put her back,” Tommy said, standing from the couch. “She shouldn’t be up and about just yet. She still needs another day or so.”

“You have a pet otter?” Niki asked, incredulous.

Tommy sighed as he grabbed the first aid kit from Michael. “It’s not a pet,” he replied, giving it a quick pet before Michael turned around to put her back.  When Niki opened her mouth, he immediately held up a hand. “Don’t ask.”

Her mouth clicked shut.

Tommy set the first-aid kit down next to her on the counter and flicked it open. He sighed, noticing that Tubbo still hadn’t made good on his ‘favor’ to replace the stuff he used up.

“Let me see your arm,” he requested, moving forward to take it gently. It hadn’t swollen any more in the time it had taken to get inside, so that was probably a good sign.  A painful break, as opposed to a serious one.  

He carefully removed the towel that had been stuffing the gaps of his makeshift splint, wincing when he saw blood staining the towel.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” Tommy said, carefully examining the arm again.  There were a couple minor scrapes, marked slightly black from where they had clearly scraped the asphalt, and leaking trace amounts of blood. Nothing serious, but they still needed to be cleaned.

“Really?” Niki asked, glancing down at her arm and wincing when she moved it. She eyed the scrapes. “Huh. Sorry, didn’t notice them over the whole, you know, broken arm.”

Fair enough. And his power didn’t highlight them because she didn’t mention them, cause his power liked to be a bitch at times—despite saving his life on several occasions.

“Alright, we should probably clean and disinfect those before anything else,” he said, moving around the counter and into the kitchen proper to grab a towel. “Do you want any water?”

“Uhh, sure.”

Tommy hums in confirmation, reaching up to one of the cupboards where he was pretty sure he had a few clean cups still.

Instead of dishware, however, he was greeted by an almost comical amount of gauze and bandages falling out of the cupboard and onto his face, making him yelp in surprise as he was flattened.

“Tommy!” he heard Niki yell.  He groaned out an “I’m fine” before sitting up, scanning the ground around him.  

The floor around him was littered with packages of gauze, bandages, a couple plastic bottles of peroxide and medical alcohol, and an unholy amount of slushie coupons from the local seven-eleven.  He looked up at the cabinet where the avalanche had originated and—

Was that a bottle of fucking vodka?

“What the actual fuck?” he muttered, rising to his feet.  He reached up and yanked the bottle out of the cupboard, staring at it incredulously.

“I take it that’s not yours?” Niki asked carefully.

“I’m sixteen! I’m not even allowed to drink this shit!” He ignored the way Niki’s eyes widened slightly at his age. “Besides, why would I put this stuff in my body? I enjoy having a functional liver, thank you.”

“There’s a note on the back,” Niki pointed out, and he turned the bottle around to see a small strip of paper taped to the back.

I ran out of room in the mirror. My b.

-Big T

P.S. Still looking for upgrades.

Tommy just stared at the note.  “Tubbo, you fucking asshole—”

He heard the tiniest of gaps, and he looked up to see Michael staring at him from the bathroom door, eyes wide and fearful.

His eyes were locked on the vodka.

“Shit,” Tommy muttered, immediately dropping the vodka out of sight behind the counter, the bandages on the floor preventing the bottle from shattering. Tommy held up his hands. “Michael, hey, it’s okay.  It wasn’t even opened.”

Michael’s eyes were still fearful, but he nodded slowly.

“Good job, Michael,” Tommy soothed, stepping around the counter, approaching him slowly.  He knelt down in front of him, resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He and Michael stared at each other for a moment while Michael’s breathing calmed. “You okay?”

Michael hesitated, but he nodded, and Tommy let out a sigh.

Then he remembered the note.

“Heeeeyyy, Michael?” he asked hesitantly. “Where did you find the first-aid kit?”

Michael tilted his head, confused, but raised his hands regardless.

On the sink, he signed. Why?

Tommy didn’t answer, just rose to his feet and marched into the bathroom. He grabbed the edge of the mirror and pried it open.

His eyes widened, and he took a step back, still gripping the mirror. “Shit,” he uttered, staring at the mirror cabinet filled to the brim with peroxide and alcohol, medical or otherwise.  It looked like an alcoholic’s wet dream.

And something Michael had to see on a regular basis in his own home.

“Michael,” Tommy yelled as he turned. “Don’t come in—!”

The words died in his throat when he turned to see that Michael had followed him in—his own curiosity getting the better of him—and was now staring in horror at the hidden cache behind the mirror.

Tommy felt sick at the look of betrayal Michael sent his way, even if he understood why he gave it. Michael hung out with Tommy to get away from alcohol, and to see his friend apparently hiding a massive stash of booze?

Tommy would feel betrayed too.

But Tommy could also see the way Michael’s hands started shaking, and the way his eyes started to unfocus as the beginnings of a panic attack set in.

“Nonono, hey, Michael!” he stuttered out hastily, shutting the mirror and crouching in front of him again.  Michael, despite his delirium, flinched away from his touch, sending a wave of hurt through Tommy’s chest.  

Tommy sighed, settling himself down on his knees as he let Michael step away.  “Michael, I need you to listen, okay? I know you don’t trust me right now, but just let me talk, okay?”

Michael’s shaking was getting worse. If he didn’t hurry this up, he wouldn’t be able to get a response from him.

“Michael, what do you smell?” Tommy asked gently, watching him closely.  “Take a deep breath.”

Michael, thankfully, did as he asked, inhaling deeply before he flinched away.

A-Alcohol, he signed, the shaking getting worse.

Shit, he was starting to dissociate. He needed to make this quick.

“Past that, bud,” Tommy prodded. “I know it’s strong, but try and get past it. What else do you smell?”

Hesitantly, Michael took another breath, pausing as the air settled in his lungs.

Soap , he signed. I smell soap.

“Good, good, that’s great. You’re doing great, bud. What else?”

Another inhale.

Just- Just alcohol! he signed again, hands starting to shake harder.

Welp, time for plan B.

Tommy whipped around, yoinked the otter out of the tub, and plopped the critter on Michael’s shoulders, causing him to flinch at the feeling of cold fur on his neck.

“How ‘bout now, bud?”

Michael’s brow furrowed as he inhaled again, confused.

Wet d-dog? he asked.

Tommy chuckled. “Well, it’s wet otter , to be precise. Do you remember the otter I’m taking care of? The one in my bathroom?”

Michael’s eyes started to clear, and he blinked, looking around and coming back to awareness.

“There you are,” Tommy said quietly, smiling gently. “You okay?”

Michael looked around a bit more, hand reaching up unconsciously to stroke the otter’s head.

“Do you remember where you are?”

….you’re place.

“Right, and do you remember who’s with us?”

Miss N-I-K-I.

“Perfect,” Tommy said, smile widening.  “Exactly right.”

Michael took another deep breath—this one through his mouth—as he tried to settle himself.  Without opening his eyes, he carefully lifted the otter off his shoulders, handing the squirming animal back over to Tommy to return to the tub. 

A moment and another deep breath later, his eyes opened, looking at Tommy before lifting and peering at the now-closed mirror.

Tommy’s smile faltered.

Where did you get those? Michael signed, still staring at the cabinet.

Tommy sighed, hesitating a moment before he stood, motioning back into the main room. “They’re not mine, I promise.”

He went to step past him, but Michael grabbed onto the hem of his shirt, halting his steps. He turned around to see Michael giving him a look.

That’s not what I asked.

Tommy snorted, smiling lightly as he tugged Michael along. “Okay, holy shit, calm down,” he shot back as they made their way back to Niki, who had been watching the interaction worriedly. And curiously.

Tommy grabbed one of the peroxide bottles from the kitchen—making sure Michael could see what he grabbed—and a clean towel before returning to Niki’s side.

“This may sting a little,” he warned Niki as he dampened the towel with the peroxide. She nodded, and he started disinfecting the scrapes, being careful not to apply too much pressure. 

While he worked, he started talking, knowing Michael was still watching him carefully. “So, you know last week I mentioned I helped out that one fucker who was getting mugged in an alley? Tubbo?” He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Michael frown, confused, before nodding slowly.

Tommy went on. “Well, after I helped him, the asshole insisted on paying me back somehow, so to get him off my back, I told him to replace the medical supplies I used on him.”

Michael looked down at the kitchen floor strewn with medical supplies before looking back up at Tommy with a look that screamed ‘Was he mugged or fucking eviscerated?’ .

But without the “fucking”, because Michael was too pure to swear, despite Clem’s attempts. Tommy may have been projecting.

Tommy snorted. “My thoughts exactly.  I ask him to either replace or upgrade the supplies, and he fucking robs a pharmacy. As for the cabinet,” he stressed. “I can only assume he grabbed anything with alcohol in it.”

Michael shrugged, his trust apparently restored with how easy he accepted it.  Though, he still looked a bit shaken.

“I promise,” Tommy said. “I never have, and I never will touch that stuff. After we’re done in here, I’ll flush anything that isn’t strictly medical.”

“Umm…” Niki piped up.  “I know it’s not my business, but I am... beyond confused right now.”

Tommy glanced at Michael, asking a silent question. The boy shrugged, walking back over to the couch to plop down face first.  Someone was clearly done with the conversation.

“Michal doesn’t have…” he started. “...the best parental figures.” At Niki’s questioning glance, he said, “Imagine an alcoholic Karen ‘married’ to a narcissistic addict, multiply it by twenty, and that’s about what Michael has to deal with when he goes home.”

Niki winced. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—”

“You weren’t expected to,” Tommy interrupted. “Besides, I’m not the one to apologize to.”

Niki glanced over to the couch, where Michael lay hidden by the cushions. “...right. Is...that why he knows sign language?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said sadly. “Talking in his house tends to not end well, so he’s...fallen out of habit. Now!” Tommy piped up, finished with the disinfecting. “Wanna tell me how you managed to break your arm in the middle of the road?”

“Ha.  I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner,” Niki said, slightly amused. At Tommy’s snort, she chuckled and continued, nodding over at the couch. “I saw Michael crossing the street about to be hit by a car, so I shoved him out of the way. Lost my balance and fell on my arm wrong.”

Tommy froze at that, his eyes snapping up to meet hers.  Michael also popped up, nodding at Tommy to confirm the story.

She pushed me forward, and then a car came flying around the corner, he explained.  It...would not have been pretty.

Tommy looked between the two for a moment before scoffing, looking at Niki in a new light. “Well,” he said with a sad laugh. “Guess I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

Niki waved it off with her good hand. “It’s fine. My power lets me see a few seconds into the future, so I saw it comin—what?”

Both he and Michael had grimaced the second Niki mentioned her power, and it must have thrown her off, because she was looking between the two of them in confusion.

“You’re...new. To the lower districts, aren’t you?” Tommy asked hesitantly.

Niki quirked a brow at him. “Yeah, actually, I just moved here. Why?” And...yeah, that would explain why she asked for an ambulance earlier.

Tommy sighed. “Well, guess it’s a good thing you met us first,” he muttered. Louder, he said. “Okay, so, rule number one of the lower districts? Don’t ever say what your power is. It’s a great way to get yourself mugged.”

“That’s...concerning. How does that work?”

Tommy shrugged, turning to follow his powers guidance in crafting a more proper splint. “If your power’s weak, you get mocked or bullied. If it’s strong, or useful , then you're either gonna get shanked out of jealousy or kidnapped and trafficked. And yes, both of those have happened more times than we care to admit.”

Niki had paled slightly, which Tommy couldn’t really blame her for. “N-Noted.”

“Good!” Tommy chirped. “Rule number two! Ambulances? Police? Yeah, don’t expect much from them. All the major stations and hospitals are in the upper districts, and they know we can’t pay, so they don’t even bother coming down half the time.”

“What the fuck?” Niki muttered, looking far more worried than she had been earlier. “There’s...you guys don’t have any police here?”

Tommy just shrugged, carefully wrapping her arm in the new splint.  “I mean, we do, they’re just corrupt as shit, so there’s not much point.”

Niki didn’t say anything, so Tommy continued. “Rule number three: never accept help from people.”

At that one, she gave him a look, and he smirked. “Obviously, me and Michael are the exception. Seriously though? Don’t,” he said, turning serious.  “The lower districts don’t run on money—cuz we’re poor as balls—it runs on favors. If someone offers to help you, expect them to come crawling to you later to cash in on whatever ‘favor’ they think you owe them. And sometimes they come crawling with a knife, so…”

“What the fuck have I gotten myself into?” Niki muttered quietly, wincing as Tommy stabilized the splint.

“You’re asking me?” Tommy laughed. “You’re the one who moved here!”

The old TV flicked on behind him, and he turned to see Michael flipping through the channels, apparently bored of the conversation. “Oi!” he called. “You need a refresher on these too, pay attention!”

Michael ignored him, finally settling on a news channel covering the various heroes of the city as opposed to some random shitty cartoon.  It was something Tommy did too. Before, when he was Michael’s age.

It was one of the good memories from Before.

Right now, there was a piece playing about a fight that happened earlier between the Dream Team and Sewage Boy.  Tommy normally wouldn’t care for the fucker, but he could admit he was impressed by the man’s skills if he was able to hold his own against all three of the heroes.

He didn’t get out of it unscathed, from the looks of it, but still...impressive.

“Ugh, I hate Geyser,” Niki muttered, watching the story as well.

“Who?” Tommy said, turning to her.

She gave him a look—which she seemed to be doing a lot, she might want to get her eyes checked—before pointing at the screen. “Geyser? The villain? That asshole made me lose water to my apartment complex for almost a week. I had to rent a motel room just so I could shower.”

“Oh, is that what he’s called in the upper districts?” Tommy said, turning back to the TV. “I’ve only ever heard his Sticker name.”

Niki gave him a look, “Sticker? Name?”

Tommy snickered. “Yeah, that’s what we call the heroes ‘nd villains who are too stiff necked to bother with the lower districts.”

“........but why Sticke—”

“Because they’ve all got sticks shoved up their pompous asses.”

“...okay then. Uhh, are there a lot of Stickers?”

“Ehh, a few.  Even the Dream Team fucker.”

“Wait, what?” Niki asked, surprised. “I thought the whole thing with the Dream Team was that they were a bridge between the two areas?”

Which was true, in her defense. The reason the Dream Team was so popular was because they had people from both sides of the district divide: Sapnap had started in the lower districts, and while Dream had been born in the upper districts, his mother, the hero Marauder, had started out in the lower districts and kept the mannerisms and such, passing them on to Dream. 

(Speaking of Marauder, a clip of her showed up on the news screen, fighting against Jägerbomb.

Michael immediately scowled at the villain. For Michael, the man’s power made him easy to hate on principle.)

As for the third member of the Dream Team…

“Take a guess,” Tommy prodded. “Who would the lower districts hate?”

“Error, I guess?” Niki said. “He’s the only one solely from the upper districts.”

“Yeah, and he never bothers coming down here. Thus, Sticker.”

“Alright, I...guess I can see why you guys would do that…” Niki conceded, before asking hesitantly. “What...do you guys call him?”

“Gogy.”

A beat.

“Pfffftt!” Niki snorted, trying to stifle her laughs. “Why Gogy?!”

“I mean, have you seen those stupid-ass goggles?”

Niki giggled. “True, true, I’ll give you that.”

His power buzzed minutely, and he flinched back as he caught the pillow that had just been thrown at him from the couch. Michael was glaring at the both of them, finger to his lips in the universal ‘shut the fuck up’ sign.

Tommy smirked, signing a ‘make me’ at the boy, laughing as he caught another pillow.

“He really doesn’t talk much, does he?” Niki said quietly, seemingly to herself. Her eyes widened a second later when Michael turned her gaze on her, and she stuttered, “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud! I—”

She probably would have just kept rambling out useless apologies, so Tommy took it upon himself to spare her pride by shutting her up. And he did so the same way he did with Tubbo.

By shoving sugar in her mouth.

She spluttered around the cream puff—or croaking bitch or whatever the hell it was called—before freezing.

“Stop apologizing, for the love of Prime,” Tommy complained, moving to start packing up the first-aid kit. He was gonna have to clean up the mountain of stuff littering his kitchen later, but—

“You made this?!” Niki exclaimed suddenly, causing Tommy to yelp. Michael flung a pillow back again, not even bothering to aim this time.

Tommy managed to catch it before it hit the pastries.

“Y-Yes?” Tommy said, confused. “I thought we established this already…”

“It’s amazing!” she exclaimed, making Tommy blink.  “Do you make it a lot?”

“Uhh, no, today was our first time trying, actually,” he said, leaning back when her eyes bugged out. “......why?”

“...”

“...”

“You’re hired.”

Tommy blinked. “Pardon?”

“You’re hired. I’m hiring you.”

Tommy looked at Michael in confusion, who merely shrugged, before turning back to Niki. “Uhh, I don’t know what you’re hiring me for, but if this is just you trying to follow the favor thing, it’s really not—”

“No!” Niki yelled. “I’m hiring you because you’re baking is a fucking godsend!”

“I’m still confused.”

Niki face-palmed. “Oh Prime, I never— the whole reason I moved to the lower districts was to open a bakery, Tommy!”

Realization dawned, and Tommy blinked again. “You’re just gonna hire some random dude you’ve never met before just because he made a good cream puff?”

“Said ‘random dude’ just helped patch up a broken arm at no charge, lives alone, and spends time with both his elderly landlord and his six-year old neighbor.”

“He’s seven.”

“Not the point! The point is, I don’t exactly need to run a background check.”

Good, she wouldn’t find much.

“Besides, making a good cream puff is literally the job. It’s a bakery. Plus…” she motioned to her arm. “...I’m gonna need some extra help while this heals.”

Huh.

Guess that solves the employment proble—

Wait…

….

He had brought up the employment problem, and his power had led him back to his apartment. Right before his buzzer went off. And right before he met...Niki…..

His power scared him sometimes.

“Alright, uhh, sure!” Tommy said. “When do you want me to start?”

“Uhh, would Monday work?”

Two days? He could work with that.

“Sure thing,” he confirmed, smiling lightly.

He gave Niki his number so she could get in contact with him later. Apparently she’d left hers behind by accident, which was why she’d needed Michael to go find help.

Speaking of the kid, the hero news segment had apparently ended and left him flipping through channels again, clearly bored without someone to talk to.

“Hey Michael,” Tommy said. “Why don’t you show Niki what you learned from Clem today?” He leaned over to Niki to explain, “Clem is basically deaf, so she teached Michael sign language every once in a while.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” Niki smiled, turning to Michael. “What’ve you got?”

Michael leaned over the back of the couch, thinking for a moment before holding both of his hands out vertically, palms facing each other. He held them there a moment before tilting both hands, like they had fallen over.

Tommy burst out laughing. “Why’d she teach you that one?!”

“What?” Niki asked, confused. “What’d it say?”

“She taught him how to say fucking ‘die’!” he exclaimed. “Let me guess, she told you to use that on me whenever I got on your nerves didn’t she?”

Michael smirked before straightening his hands and repeating the motion several more times.

“You little shit,” Tommy chuckled. “C’mon, got anything else?”

“Oh no, wait,” Niki said suddenly, glancing around. “What time is it?”

“Uhhh, around three I think,” Tommy said, checking his phone. “Need to get going?”

She winced. “Yeah, I have to get some stuff ready for work tomorrow.” She glanced at her arm. “And I have a feeling it’s gonna take a little longer than normal.” 

“Want me or Michael to walk you out?” Tommy asked, standing up to kick aside some of the rolls of gauze on the floor.

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” she said, speaking in a rush. “Thank you so much for your help. I’ll text you the details and such later tonight or tomorrow!”

And with that, she was gone, ending the very odd week he’d had, helping people left, right, and fucking center.

At least this time he wasn’t running from a vigilante or taking cover from bombs.

Tommy stood for a moment before sighing, walking over to the couch and flopping down on top of Michael. The boy squealed, smacking Tommy’s back to get him off.

“Nope, I have died,” Tommy said, closing his eyes. “I cannot move, for I am dead.”

He yelped as another pillow smacked his ear. “Okay, okay, geez!” He sat up with a smirk. “You are vicious fucking seven-year old.”

Michael humphed in response, turning away to try to hide his smile.

“C’mon,” he told him. “Let’s go check on the otter.”

Michael thought for a moment before crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“What the hell! Why not?”

Michael uncrossed his arms. Not until you say her name, he demanded.

Tommy gave him a look. “I did not name the otter. You know I don’t name them.”

Michael glared at him. Say it.

“Make me.”

Michael grabbed another pillow.

“Okay! Okay fine. Primes, you’re violent.” He hesitated, and Michael gave him a look, hefting the pillow. He sighed. “Fine, let’s go check on Marnie. You happy?”

Michael smiled and nodded, dropping the pillow so he could slide off the couch and dart into the bathroom.

Tommy joined him, kneeling down by the tub to check the bandages on the otter’s tail and hind legs.  “Well, she’s doing better than I thought,” he said, glancing over at Michael.  “I could probably release her tomorrow.” 

Michael smiled sadly and reached down, petting the otter lightly on the head. 

Tommy watched for a moment before asking, “Wanna come with me?”

Michael turned back to him with a grin and nodded excitedly.

Tommy smiled back. “Perfect.”

He knew pretty soon, Michael was going to have to head back to his apartment across the hall, but for now, he was content to let the boy play with the little fluff ball hiding away in his tub. He was gonna have to find something to distract him in the main room, though, at least for a bit.

He had some booze to flush.