Chapter Text
Loud. It was far too loud. He could hear the shouting behind him, but couldn’t form the words over the heavy patter of rain, the splashing of murky puddles under his feet as he ran, and his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. It had been far too long since he’d run like this. The vigilante cursed himself for taking those two weeks to recover from his last big fight. As he mentally reminds himself not to listen to his partner next time, he just barely realizes he’s headed for the edge of a building with nowhere to jump to. Screeching to a halt, he takes a moment to breathe and looks over the side. A straight twenty story drop into a dark alley, a fire-escape on the other side leading up to the next building. Too far away for him to jump that without injury. He only wishes he could use his wings right now.
Prime, did he hate the rain. He was soaked almost to the bone. He was lucky the inside of his hoodie was insulated, but that did nothing for his soaked mask, cargo pants, and sneakers.
“Nowhere to run now Icarus.” A taunting electronic voice spoke behind him.
Turning around, his blue eyes looked over his pursuer. In front of him with a shit-eating smirk stood none other than Specter, famous anti-hero that just so happened to hate him. He was drenched, from his brown trench coat, to the black turtleneck shirt and black pants, all the way down to his brown steel-toe combat boots (Icarus had been on the receiving end of more than a few blows from those fucking boots). His brown curling hair sticking to his forehead and falling in front of his eyes, how he managed to see through the dark cloth wrapped around his eyes was always something the vigilante never understood. The man was taller than him by a solid few inches at least, and thin framed.
“Running from a fight that you started?” Specter taunted through his synthetic voice. “That’s kind of pathetic don’t you think?”
“I mean,” Icarus took a step back from the roof’s edge, toward his current predator. “technically you started it when you decided to break into a civilian’s house.”
“I had my reasons.” He growled. “Everything was going perfectly fine until you showed up.”
“What can I say? I live for stopping crime. Can’t turn away when I see it? What kind of man would I be if I did?”
“The kind that knows when to mind his own fucking business.” Specter quickly jumped forward, punching Icarus right in the side of his jaw. The vigilante stumbled back, catching himself right before tripping over the ledge.
“Hell man! A little warning next time!” Icarus yelled. Specter rolled his eyes under his mask.
Both men startled as a thundering feeling of pressure swept over both of them. “Just fucking great.” Specter grumbled, swiveling to see a large figure behind him. The Blade, in his red king’s cape, white frilled poet’s shirt, golden crown and bone mask, stood behind him, axe gripped tightly in his hand. One might think the long pink hair tied in a braid over his shoulder would take away from the fear factor, but it did nothing to alleviate the anxiety that Icarus felt in the moment. The most dangerous and badass villain who also hated him (go figure), but at least he also didn’t like Specter so that was a plus. Icarus did not hesitate to start spamming the button on his earpiece for the second time that night. No reply.
“What do you want Blade?” He asked, spitting the name like venom on his tongue.
“Can’t a man pass by without being questioned?” The deep and monotonous tone of the villain sounded bored with his own question.
“Not when that man is a villain.” Icarus groaned, still rubbing at his cheek.
“This isn’t your usual sector fly boy?” The Blade turned his attention to the shorter man. “What brings you to fourth?”
“I could say the same for you two.” The vigilante spat, glaring at the two men infront of him
“I was passing by, saw you two and thought it might be fun to go hunting for some new victims.” The Blade had fixed his eyes on the two from under his mask.
Specter was close enough to see the gleam of bloody crimson from his eyes. The anti-hero took a fighting stance, turning most of his attention to the villain. Specter still stood between the villain and the vigilante and Icarus finds that ironic considering they lined up in the exact order they’re categorized as. All they’re missing now is a hero- Maybe he was thinking a bit quick. There was a strong gust of wind that came from behind him, pushing him forward almost into Specter.
“I’d hardly call them new mate.” A grainy voice laughed from above them. The number one hero, Angel flapped his large white wings. The reflection of light from the water droplets on them sparkled. The three could basically feel the hero’s eyes boring into them from behind that dark bird mask. His voice changer made him sound almost sweet, a small lilt in his tone.
Icarus took a moment to scramble slightly further from the men as Angel landed on the roof’s edge where the vigilante had just been standing. His loose coat fluttered lightly behind him but was stunted slightly by the downpour.
“Why is it always you?” The Blade groaned.
“Come on. We’ve been playing this game for too many years now.” Angel raised his hands as if balancing two objects. “Most dangerous and wanted villain; Number one hero. I think it evens out pretty well.”
“Okay but you keep getting in my way too. What are you tasked with hunting me down or something?” the anti-hero took a step back so he wasn’t in the direct middle of the hero and villain.
“I mean, yeah. I’ve been ordered to personally arrest the three of you specifically.” Angel responded as if he was reading off a to do list of the day. He was so nonchalant about it, and the disdain was clear even under Specter’s mask. “If you come in quietly, your punishment might be less severe. Well not for The Blade but that goes without saying.”
“You can’t arrest all three of us.” the red-clad vigilante piped up from his position a bit further away. “You’re outnumbered three to one.”
“Hm…” The hero seemed to contemplate this. “You’re right, but I doubt you’re actually working with them. How about this Icarus, if you help me bring these two in, I’ll let you off with a warning tonight?” Angel said with a smile.
A hero bargaining with a vigilante? Icarus would have been surprised if this was the first time this had happened. While Angel has outright explained to him that he’s been tasked with arresting him, he’s always seemed nice. The hero disapproves of the methods Icarus resorts to (being illegal ones), but he doesn’t seem to wish any ill fate on the boy.
The prolonged silence must have seemed like contemplation to the villain. “Not this again! You can’t do that!” He turned to stare at the vigilante. “Icarus, he was just threatening to arrest you!” The Blade shouted, embedding his axe into the concrete of the building.
“I mean, yeah but it’s jail with him and death with you so…” The boy shrugged. “I’m not saying I’m planning on teaming up with any of you but IF I was, there would be an obvious better choice.”
The Blade huffed but turned to Specter. “Fine, if that’s how it is. Ghost boy, you’re with me.”
“Excuse me? You literally just threatened to murder me too.” Specter scoffed. “I might as well just team up with the vigilante against both of you.”
“Why would I team with you? You were literally chasing me and going to beat the shit out of me.” said vigilante argued back.
“Like you could even beat us mate.” Angel chuckled, with an air of superiority.
The villain, hero and anti-hero continued to fight. It was a bit amusing to watch if Icarus was being honest. But he knew how this was going to go, he could tell how this would most likely end. Suddenly a crackling in his earpiece broke him out of the conversation in front of him.
“Tommy? Tommy, are you there? I got the distress signal and tried to get back as soo-” a voice came through.
“Nuke! Code red! I need an extraction!” Icarus basically yelled. Not a smart idea as that just alerted the other men to his plans.
The Blade jumped forward pulling his axe from the ground and going to swing straight for the vigilante’s head. He was so fast Icarus didn’t have time to jump out of the way. His only saving grace was the winged man that shoved him out of the way as the axe came down hard in between them. The young vigilante rolled, landing on one knee and turning back to the others.
“FUCK!” He screamed.
“I’m sending Ender in, just hold tight!” Nuke yelled. Icarus could hear the frantic typing of his partner’s keyboard.
Stall, hold out. He could do that, easy. Except it wasn’t really. He just barely managed to dodge a fist swung at the left side of his face by Specter just in time, but got nicked in the arm when a blade flew past him. It had devolved into an every man for himself fight. He’d been jumping, flipping and dodging attacks from all three adversaries. Some of the attacks had landed, knocking him back. Of course, he’d been throwing his own punches.
While dodging a heavy axe swing, he noticed Angel was being held in place by Specter, the man holding a knife. Icarus guessed it was probably his dumb persuasion ability. He flipped, placing one hand on the concrete and launching himself up, kicking The Blade in the jaw, knocking him back. He held out the other hand toward Specter. Red energy surrounded his hand and Specter’s foot. He pulled it left, sending the ant-hero skidding across the pavement and into a stone wall. Before he hit it, the man went intangible and flew into it like it wasn’t even there, breaking his concentration on the hero. Angel sighed with relief as he could move again, the vigilante did as well mostly from having the wind knocked out of his lungs when you landed flat on his back, hard.. He would fight to his last breath if he needed, but he’s not really in the whole killing business. That includes letting other people get killed around him.
He’d forgotten he had his own opponent to deal with. He looked up to see the towering figure of the villain standing over him, axe raised. Icarus screamed rolling out of the way as the axe came down. The Blade went to follow after, ready to swing again, but tripped when a translucent hand shot out of the ground and grabbed his ankle. Specter pulled himself out of the ground, becoming tangible again.
Specter and Icarus shared a look (or he would like to think so but it’s hard to tell with that stupid mask). He laughed lightly in relief, and the corner of Specter’s mouth quirked up almost in a smile. Specter seemed to also try not to get anyone killed but was not above leaving someone to die for his own benefit, or if they were a very bad person. Icarus could understand that but still didn’t respect it. Out of the corner of his eye, Icarus saw a quick motion of white and green. He lunged forward, grabbing Specter and pushing them both to the ground, dodging just as Angel came swooping down to try and grab the anti-hero. When he missed, Angel’s wing snagged against a crack in the concrete and ripped loose a few feathers. The hero cursed at the pain.
Despite the very heroic and manly save, he still made the mistake of slamming Specters face into the ground. So of course in retaliation the brunette clocked the blonde straight in the jaw, sending him spiraling back. The vigilante quickly scrambled to his feet, turning back to get into a fighting stance again.
“STOP!” Specter’s voice rang out as he held a hand up toward Icarus, his other wiped away blood from his nose. Icarus couldn’t move, everything in his body was screaming to run, to fight, to do anything. But he couldn’t, simply stuck as the fighting ceased and all the parties advanced on him. “Stay.” Specter hissed.
His body was frozen, his blood felt as though it matched. Icarus could only think of how this was it. He was either going to be arrested by Angel or die at the hands of The Blade, or maybe even Specter; because Prime knows he’d done enough to piss that man off, possibly to the point of murder.
All too suddenly there was a flash of purple particles and hissing as he was clutched protectively to someone’s chest. The familiar feeling of teleportation hit him as he threatened to lose the contents of his stomach. Next thing he knew, he was laying on the linoleum floor of his best friend’s kitchen. A tall heterochromatic boy leaned over him, a thin layer of sweat clung to his forehead and worry painted his face under his split black and white face mask.
“Tommy!” a small brunette yelled, sliding in next to the vigilante. His bangs falling completely over his eyes. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m okay Tubbo, I’m okay.” Tommy reassured, sitting up slowly and removing his mask. Tubbo’s face softened, then quickly switched to annoyed. He smacked Tommy on the arm. The blonde cried and gripped the still bloody cut.
“What the hell were you thinking going out there on your own! You’re supposed to be taking a break to recover! Do you have any idea how fucking worried Ranboo and I were! Of course not, because you never think about the goddamn consequences!” Tubbo continued his lecture for another five minutes. Tommy took note of how many times the brunette referred to him as an idiot in some way, counting twelve in total, while Ranboo counted thirteen.
The tallest of the group stood up, swaying a bit from dizziness. He left to grab the first aid kit, bringing along some medicine for his own headache. Tommy pulled off the hoodie, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. The taller of the trio returned and started cleaning and dressing the wound. He also grabbed an icepack from the freezer for the bruises that were already growing in color.
“I know, I’m sorry. But Eris asked me to cover her districts tonight. She said it was super important and since she’s been covering for me the last two weeks, I sorta owed her. ” Tommy started defending himself once his best friend was finished. “I’m already feeling perfectly fine. Plus I can’t just sit around for too long or I’ll fall out of practice.”
“Alright alright.” Ranboo hushed, wrapping his arms around Tubbo and pulling him to his chest. A small purring came from the man and the shorter reluctantly started to go slack in his arms. “He’s had enough buddy. Go get out of your work clothes and I’ll start dinner okay?” he asked gently. Tubbo pulled away in a sleepy state without another word, wandering his way down the hall to his bedroom.
“Are you alright?” Tommy asked, noticing the swaying from his friend. Ranboo held his head, closing his eyes.
“I’m not used to teleporting that far across the city so quickly, and having to do that twice and with another person…” He gave a sigh but didn’t continue. Turning back toward Tommy, Ranboo gave a weak, tired smile. “You should go change and dry off, I’ll start dinner.”
Tommy nodded, picking himself up off the floor and carried himself to the bathroom, opting to change out of his vigilante gear and into his normal civilian attire of jeans, red converse and blue sweater. He stopped to look over himself in the mirror. His hair was still dripping and he had a couple bruises littering his face. Tommy also took note of the small scrape at the bottom left side of his jaw. He definitely looked like he’d gotten into another fight. His family was definitely going to be worried about that, he might even get a scolding from his dad about fighting. He was not looking forward to that tonight.
The blonde let out a sigh and made his way back to the living room of the small apartment. He still remembers the day he helped Tubbo and Ranboo move into it. Tubbo had always hated his father and Tommy shared the sentiment though he hadn’t been the one to have to deal with that abusive piece of shit on a daily basis. Even now Tommy hated Schlatt, not just for the mistreatment of his son, but for the way the mayor ran this city. The moment Tubbo turned sixteen he’d filed for emancipation and convinced Ranboo to be his ‘platonic husband’ is what they call it, but Tommy thinks it’s just a fun way to say roommate. Tommy probably would have been a part of this little household too if he hadn’t been adopted only a year before.
Of course with Tubbo and Ranboo living together, there was no way that Ranboo wasn’t going to find out about Tommy and Tubbo’s nightly hobby. What they weren’t expecting was the tall human boy to morph into a half enderman, half something else creature that he’s now become familiar with, and asking them to join the team. In Tubbo and Tommy’s eyes, Ranboo was already one of them, they just hadn’t made it official until then.
He returned to see Ranboo had changed back into a normal hoodie and sweatpants, still in his hybrid state and had put a pot of water on the stove to boil. He frankly didn’t need a vigilante costume, no one would be able to recognize him in his hybrid form anyway. But he liked it. He was pulling items from the cabinets. The blonde threw his backpack over his shoulder, heading for the front door.
“You leaving already?” Ranboo asked.
“Yeah I gotta get home before the others start to worry.”
“Okay well I gotta patch up your hoodie so I’ll have that ready tomorrow.” Tommy nodded, waving to his friend as he left.
—
“They slipped away again I see.” The horned man spoke harshly. “Is it really so hard to capture three men, Philza?”
“Schlatt, you know they are not just normal men.” Phil sighed. He’d gone through this song and dance many times before. At first he might have seemed intimidated by the goat horned president, but after so long of working under him, Philza was nothing more than bored with the man’s theatrics.
“Villain, anti-hero, vigilante. Whether normal men or not, you are a trained hero. There is no reason you shouldn’t be able to apprehend one of them.” Schlatt stood from his chair, stepping away from his desk to stare out the large glass window overlooking the city. He swirled the caramel colored liquid in his glass, taking a drink before continuing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t want them to be caught.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been doing everything I can mate!” Phil retorted.
“Phil, I brought you back into the game because we needed results. You had your own reasons for stepping back into the spotlight.” The president spoke, turning to look at the hero over his shoulder. “How are those sons of yours? I’m especially interested in your oldest, what was his name again?”
Philza bit his tongue and stared at the ground. His fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white. Nothing he said was going to matter here.
“Hey man, don’t look so gloomy!” Schlatt sang, swinging an arm over the blonde’s shoulder. Phil hadn’t even realized the man had gotten close enough to him to make such a friendly gesture. “I’ll level with ya Phil. I know it doesn’t seem fair that you got stuck with such a difficult task. But it’s not like you’re the only hero we got assigned over there. So either bring those criminals in, or I’ll find someone who can.” With that, Schlatt released Philza and walked back to the window, waving the hero away.
Phil stormed out of the room, quickly making his way out of the building and taking to the sky above the rain fall. As he flew, his illusionary magic faded away. His once angelic white wings now completely reverted to black. His hero outfit was replaced with a green sweatshirt and jeans.
He hated those meetings. He’d retired from the hero business long ago. He only returned when he’d adopted his sons. The new father had no idea what he was doing. All he knew was he had two kids that needed him, and he needed a steady income, a big one. Heroes just so happened to get paid a lot. So he became the hero Angel again, just so he could be the guardian to two, now three, kids.
He flew away from the main city center and toward the suburbs in sector six, landing gently in front of a large brown house accented in white. He tried the door, finding it to be locked, which meant his sons were not home yet.
Phil used his wings to shield himself from the rain, fishing his keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. Stepping inside, he found the house to be quiet and cold. He expected as much. He knew his boys all worked most days, the house wasn’t ever full. He shrugged off his sweatshirt, leaving him in a black long sleeved shirt. He gently hung it up, placing his bag on the small table in the home entrance. He made his way down the hallway and headed straight for the kitchen to start preparing dinner.
—
Wilbur tilted his head back, regretting immediately as blood started running down his throat. He sat staring up at the ceiling, sinking further into the couch. “Prime this sucks.”
“You’re gonna be even more upset to find out that we’re out of cookies.” A man walked in from the door behind him. A blank face and a big ‘ :] ‘ printed in black over it. It wasn’t a mask, but actually the face the shapeshifter wore to conceal his identity. He wore a regular white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, red suspenders, black dress pants and shoes.
“You gotta be kidding me?” Wilbur groaned, ready to end his existence.
“Yeah I ate the last one before you got here.” The man chuckled. Wilbur wanted to scold the man that they are necessary healing items, not fucking snacks to munch on because he gets bored. But instead he just let out a guttural noise. “We can have Nemesis make more, but it’ll take her awhile.”
“Nah it’s fine Jester. I’ll just deal with it, it’ll stop bleeding eventually.” Wilbur sighed, grabbing a few more tissues and standing up. “Thanks for the tip by the way, and you know, letting me hide out here for a bit.”
“Don’t mention it man, you know I’d do the same for any of my familia.” Jester smiled, or at least he gave the tone that he had. His face never moved or changed.
“Yeah well, if it’s all the same to you, it’s probably for the best if I get going.” Wilbur grabbed his brown bag from where he had abandoned it on the small chair in the corner of the room.
Jester waved him off, stepping out to get back to his own business. This wasn’t the first time Wilbur had been here. This place was small and lightly furnished. It was a small studio space that Jester owned. The anti-hero group known as The Four Horsemen used it as a meeting spot and a place for retreat. To call it a group is an overstatement. The Four Horsemen is a way to simply refer to the four most well known anti-heroes. They’re not an official group and only work together occasionally. The Blade was the one to issue them that team name as well as naming them after The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. However the four do not go by those names, to do so would be to give into the rumors. Unfortunately the team name seemed to stick and everyone saw them as an official group.
Wilbur, slipped into the back room and changed from his Specter outfit and into a simple yellow sweater, red beanie, and black pants. It was a struggle to change while his nose continued to pour blood. Maybe he wasn’t okay.
He peaked out into the main area to make sure it was empty before slipping out of the hideout undetected. He made sure to have his umbrella out as he made his way home. By the time he made it back, his nose had finally stopped bleeding, but it still ached dully and there were a few drops that had made their way onto his sweater. The door was unlocked, which he was grateful for. Making his way inside, he found his father setting a pot on the stove to boil.
He quietly walked up behind the blond man. “Hey Phil!” The brunette cheered happily. Phil jumped from the surprise, spinning around and smacking Wilbur in the face with his large wing. Will yelped, grabbing at his nose that was now bleeding more fiercely than before.
—
Techno forgot sometimes that Icarus was actually decently strong. The vigilante looked so scrawny, but the kid packed a hell of a punch(or well, kick.) It also slipped his mind that Specter being an anti-hero meant that the lanky man didn’t play fair and did in fact resort to dirty tricks.
He held his glowing hand to his chin, healing the aching jaw. He could already feel the fatigue setting in from his healing powers. He was blessed (or maybe cursed) with the ability to heal himself and others. The drawback to this power was that using it always caused physical damage to his own body resulting in illness. Once he was done with the small healing session, he sniffled slightly, already able to tell he would be developing a stuffy nose from the injuries.
Techno had already changed into his “work” clothes. He was a fencing instructor, or at least that was his cover. He genuinely did enjoy fencing and learning to fight. But the calling to topple the government and cause general anarchy and disarray was what he was truly made for. Even if that meant having to lie and keep secrets from his family.
He sighed, continuing his trudge home through the rain. The pink haired villain wanted nothing more than to just lay down and sleep.
—
It hadn’t quite skipped his mind that it was raining out, but there really wasn’t much Tommy could do anyway. As he walked his shoes became more and more drenched. His sweater was already starting to get soaked as well. Tubbo’s apartment was in sector eight, a decent way aways from Tommy’s own house but not incredibly far. It took maybe three blocks to get to the bus stop, a ten minute bus ride through the city, and seven blocks of walking through the suburbs before he came up to the large brown house accented in white.
He sighed as he approached the door. Slowly turning the knob and pushing it open. He knew it was unlocked, hard not to be when you lived with three other people and you all have varying schedules. Tommy shut the door behind him and kicked off his shoes before walking further down the hallway. Whatever he was expecting to find at eight something at night, it wasn’t this. In front of him sat his brother in a wooden dining chair, with a few drops of blood on his yellow sweater, holding a handful of tissues to his nose. His father stood in front of him, ice pack in hand, black wings bristled from worry. They only seemed to stand up more as the older man looked over Tommy.
“What the hell happened to you?” Tommy blurted before he could really think about it.
“I had just gotten home from work and was starting dinner. In walks Wilbur with a fucking broken nose.” the parental figure sighed out, doing nothing to relieve his anxiety. “He scared the piss outta me and I accidently hit him.”
“I’m fine Phil really.” the brunette hissed out from behind his tissues. “I just fell and smacked my face against the ground a bit too hard.”
“Your nose is broken mate.” Phil deadpanned. He turned his attention to his youngest. “And what happened to you? You get in another fight?” Tommy looked away shamefully.
“Toms, again?”
“Look I know what you guys have said about fighting. But I wasn’t the one who started it. I just defended myself.” Tommy quickly spat out the excuse like it was rehearsed. Phil just sighed in response. The teen set his bag down on the table. “Where’s Techno?” Tommy asked, changing the subject.
“Not home from work yet but he should be soon probably.” Almost like magic, Wilbur speaking it into the world summoned him.
“I’m home.” The trio heard as the front door opened and closed down the hall followed by a light sniffle. A few footsteps and the fourth member of their family emerged. His hair tied up lazily in a bun and bags under his eyes. Tommy could tell he’d definitely had a rough day at work. He took a look over at Wilbur, making the same face Tommy had made when he’d laid eyes on the scene. “What the hell happened to you?” he also blurted to Wilbur.
Will just huffed. “Bloody nose.” Techno sighed and pulled out the chair next to Wilbur. He reached forward to remove the tissues but the brunette quickly pulled away. “No Tech, I’m fine.” He said sternly.
“Your nose is literally broken Will. You are not fine.” Phil said, placing a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “At least let me take you to the hospital.”
“No, I don't like the hospital. It’s always cold and smells weird and I hate the dullness there.” And Tommy could agree with the sentiment.
“Just let me heal you then.” Techno demanded in a tone so monotonous that one wouldn't imagine he was talking about his brother’s broken nose.
“But you’ll get sick.” Wilbur looked pained.
Techno shrugged. “It’ll be barely anything. Besides, I'm already sick.”
“Did one of your kids get a little too excitable today?” Phil asked.
“You could say it’s something like that.” His oldest simply shrugged at him before turning all his attention back to Wilbur. “Now just let me see.” He pulled the tissues away from his brother’s face. His hand hovered there for a moment, a soft pink glow pulsing from his palm. Techno let out a sigh as he pulled his hand away, a sigh that quickly turned into coughs.
“Tech? Are you okay?” Tommy asked, pulling a bottle of water out of his bag and handing it over to his older brother. Phil had stepped forward to hand Techno two gel capsules. The boy took them quickly, shoving the pills in his mouth and downing half the bottle. Wilbur looked worried and disappointed. They all hated when Techno used his ability. He was one of the few people blessed with the rare ability to heal others. But this came at the cost of his own health. It didn’t help that their family also had to have the worst luck in the world since they were all constantly getting hurt to various degrees.
“I’m fine.” Techno finally replied. He looked over at Tommy. “You got in another fight? Come here.”
“No no.” Tommy took three steps back. “I don’t need your healing. These are so minor, besides with my regeneration, they’ll go away in like a day or two.” Techno looked annoyed but Phil smiled at him.
“I’m going to have to agree with Tommy on this one. You’ve already healed enough damage to yourself for one day.” Phil slightly joked. “Go rest now and I will come get you all when dinner is ready.”
They all slowly made their way to their rooms, leaving a rather disheveled Philza to his own devices. He loves his sons, he just wishes they had more self preservation. Turning around, his still flared wing caught on the chair. He hissed, pulling it to look at the raw area where the feathers had been forcibly ripped out earlier. Phil supposes he’s a hypocrite.
—
Tommy became bored pretty quickly, abandoning the switch game he’d played and beaten seven times since Phil had bought him the game. With nothing else to keep him busy while he waited for dinner, there was only one other option: Bug his brothers. Or more accurately, Wilbur. Because even Tommy was smart enough to know that Techno needed to rest. He slowly opened his door, peeking down the darkened hallway to where his older brother’s door was. He could hear soft music faintly down that way. Tommy creeped his way down, stopping momentarily to look at the picture on the wall
The photo was taken at the park in the better part of the city. The grass was a vibrant green and the sky was perfectly clear and sunny. The family was sitting on a picnic blanket, smiling at the camera. Tommy was laying in front of the other three, looking extremely excited as he spread his limbs out. Techno sat on the left, looking at Tommy annoyed but there was fondness in those ruby eyes. Wilbur sat on the right. He was pushing Tommy’s arm out of his face, and smiling playfully while ruffling the blonde’s hair with his other hand. Phil sat in the middle between Tommy’s two older brothers. He looked happy and relaxed. It was a picture from two years prior, the first family picture that had included Tommy in after the adoption was finalized.
Tommy would never forget the horrid foster care system. He would never forget the beatings and screaming from his previous caretaker, or the pain from being beat up by other kids in the orphanages. But that all changed when he was placed in the household of Philza Minecraft. Tommy had expected the same as every other household; screaming, yelling, beatings, and eventually giving him back to the state because he was “Too much to handle” or “Not worth the hassle.” It went the same way every time. Phil, Wilbur and Techno were different. There wasn’t screaming, not in anger. There was definitely yelling, but hardly at Tommy, and most times it was playful or fun. He only got lectured when he did something truly wrong. He was never beaten, not once, only kind and comforting touches. Maybe it was helped by the fact that both Techno and Wilbur were also in the system before Phil adopted them. So, the day they approached Tommy with the hope of adoption, the teen cried harder than he had in a long time.
Tommy shook his head, pulling himself from his reminiscing and continued to the door with the golden music note on it. A decoration that Wilbur got just to spite Tommy who said it was tacky as hell. He didn’t even knock, instead just turning the knob and pushing it open quickly.
“Wilbur!” Tommy yelled, startling the brunette.
Wilbur sat on his bed clutching his guitar in his hands. “Dammit gremlin child!” Will yelled back. “Ever heard of fucking knocking?!”
“Ever heard of shut the fuck up.” Tommy mocked. Wilbur groaned as Tommy closed the door behind him and made his way to the bed, flopping down and sprawling across it. “Play me a song Wilbur.”
Will sighed but got in position to play. “What do you want to hear?” Tommy shrugged. He really didn’t care, he just liked the fact he could get a free song from his brother for free. Wilbur thought for a minute before a wide grin spread across his face. He started strumming the notes to ‘That’s What I Like’ by Bruno Mars. Tommy started screaming as the brunette started to sing that dreaded tune.
“Stop it Wilbur! NO!” He screeched trying to shove his hands over his brother's mouth. Wilbur leaned back, singing louder and off key. “I hate you so much! You are such a dickhead!”
Wilbur ended the song and laughed. “I thought you loved that song Toms.”
There was a knock at the door, and it was pushed open before either could respond. Techno stood wearing a plain grey t-shirt and black shorts. He looked tired and slightly annoyed. He didn’t even bother to close the door as he made his way to the bed and flopped down on top of his younger brothers. Both cursed in protest, struggling and failing to push their older brother off of themselves.
“You guys are keeping me awake with your screaming, I might as well be the cause of it.” He half joked. It felt like the gravity on them increased slightly.
“Get the fuck off me man! Stop being such an asshole and get up!” Tommy started spewing profanities.
Will struggled for a moment before phasing and moving out from under the two to stand near his desk. Anytime Wilbur used his ability to phase through a person it left them with a cold clammy feeling and Techno hated that.
“Can you warn me next time?” Techno sat up, slightly still leaning heavily on Tommy.
“Neither of you warned me when you burst in here and flung yourself on me and my bed.” The brunette countered, laughing at the disgruntled looks the two were giving him. Tommy huffed and placed his hand on Techno’s arm. It glowed faintly orange causing the other man to roll off with a yelp.
“Bruh seriously?” Techno whipped his head to look at the youngest in the room. “You burned me!”
“Oh please, it was hardly a burn, you won’t even blister.” Tommy hummed with amusement. Wilbur laughed at his brother’s misery.
“Ah my boys. I’m glad to see you’re all getting along.” Phil made his presents known from the doorway.
“Oh Phil, it’s awful. These two have been tormenting me.” Techno feigned a betrayed expression. “The child even burned me.”
“What? That is not true!” Tommy jumped up. “Stop trying to manipulate dad!”
“Both of you, get out of my room!” Wilbur yelled, shoved his younger brother lightly, playfully.
“Dinner is ready so why don’t we all get out of Will’s room?” Philza stepped to the side, ready to usher Tommy and Techno out the door. The middle child found this to be taking too long, and opted to just phase through the wall heading toward the dining room. “Don’t use your powers unnecessarily, you know that takes up alot of your energy!” his father scolded from down the hallway.
Tommy stopped wondering who his biological parents were a long time ago. He never thought he’d be lucky enough to have someplace to call home at all, let alone a family that he genuinely loved and who loved him all the same. But watching the three men file around the table, jeering and taking jabs at each other, he sighed with contentment. He’d never felt more at home than right here.