Chapter Text
Tommy had been at this place for a few weeks now, and it wasn’t that bad. The foster parents were distant but not unkind, they gave him food and clothes, so it was okay. The only thing that Tommy hated about this foster home was how old fashioned everything was. They had no wifi, no phones or laptops, everything was based on dumb expectations from the 20th century. He was expected to help out on their bloody farm, but instead he spent evenings with the local kids he had befriended.
Tubbo was a strange kid, way too optimistic to be real. It was unsettling, somehow. But nonetheless, Tommy found himself with the shorter boy much too often, until he finally gave in and started hanging out with him.
Turns out friends were fun, more fun than crime, even more fun when paired together. The two would skip classes they didn’t like, and walk up the fields to sit and chat about anything and everything. It was blissful, in those moments. More peaceful than anything Tommy’s ever felt before.
“Hey Tommy.” Tubbo asked, leaning back on the school’s plastic chair.
Tommy flung his feet up and rested them on one of the chairs, “What is it, big man?”
“Do you like bees?” he questioned, with all the usual innocence and childlike enthusiasm. Tommy nodded, leaning back in his chair and glancing over the empty classroom they were sat in.
“I just think they’re really cool.” Tubbo sighed, then he stood up and picked up his rucksack. It was almost the end of break, and they shouldn’t really be in this empty room, so they needed to get out if they didn’t want to be caught.
Tubbo looked at him with wide eyes and a gentle smile, “I’d love to be a bee.” There was something sad in his tone, something alien and strange to the normal blindingly bright optimism, “Just buzz about all day, going from flower to flower, flying around.”
Tommy grinned, eager to banish the strange melancholy in Tubbo’s tone, “Yeah, big T. I’d love to be able to fly.”
School was soon over, and Tommy was planning to visit the local kids and mess about in the river, since it was horrifyingly hot and humid, and he didn’t feel like shovelling shit for three hours. Unfortunately, the guy who owned the farm, one of his foster parents, had other plans. Apparently he was grounded for getting an isolation at school (he and Tubbo may have stolen some shit, but that doesn’t matter) and he had to stay inside and do homework until dinner. It was bad, but not as bad as shit-shovelling, so Tommy took the chance to even out his bad behaviour with homework and not farm-work.
First up was some physics past papers, but his back kept itching so he couldn’t focus on them. In the end, Tommy blocked his door with a chair and took off his shirt, but his back still felt strangely itchy.
Giving up on the past papers, Tommy pulled on his extremely uncomfortable shirt and walked to the bathroom. Now, his bedroom was upstairs, but the bathroom was on the ground floor, meaning he could climb out of the window without snapping any bones or fucking his ankles up, and he could check his back in the process. Then he would cool off in the river for half an hour, come back, then finish the past paper before tea. It was a crude plan, and would probably go wrong, but at least he could leave.
Once in the bathroom, he yanked off his shirt and twisted awkwardly to try and see himself in the mirror. Over his shoulder blades were red, sore-looking rashes, skin dry and raw from his incessant clawing at it. Tommy decided that it wasn’t that important, it was probably a combination of the cruel heat and his stupid rucksack, and once the heatwave was over his rash would calm down.
He re-applied the shirt and climbed clumsily out of the window, wearing only sliders on his feet. It was annoying and difficult, but the swim in the river would be worth it.
Grabbing his bike, Tommy made his way over to the footpath that the locals had shown him, cycling quickly and dangerously close to the riverbank. After around five minutes of sweating uncomfortably, he came up to the jetty that the local kids jumped off of. Some of them were already there, soaking wet and refreshingly cool.
“Big man TommyInnit is here!” one of them shouted, a boy around his age. Tommy didn’t remember any of their names, but this one was the eldest out of the local kids and he had a younger brother who they often annoyed the shit out of.
There were also the three brothers, one who was scarily daring, one who was terrified of jumping and another who was refreshingly responsible.
These kids were all so carefree here, no one had deep conversations, no one cared about school, no one talked about families. It was an escape, for everyone, Tommy could see it in the tired eyes of the older siblings.
When asked about the rash on his back, Tommy told them it was probably the heat, and they asked no more questions. It was nice.
He ended up spending the entire evening there, losing complete track of time, only leaving once the sun began to set and it started to cool down. His fingers were too numb to grip his handlebars properly, so he had to sit there with them in his armpits for ages, trying to get the blood back into his hands. By the time he got home, it was almost dark and he was completely starving.
He ate cold baked potato and beans that night, it was horrible but he ate most of it out of hunger. Tommy wouldn’t leave food, that was stupid.
The next morning, his back hurt like hell. Not only did he have an itchy rash, but it was aching like he had slept on concrete.
Tommy took the bus to school and he chatted with the local kids that went to school, half of them were homeschooled. It was boring and pointless small talk, but better than sitting in silence. He didn’t even have a phone to listen to music on, his foster parents had confiscated it and locked it in a fucking safe as soon they spotted it.
Tubbo was waiting on his usual table, all alone and staring into space. What a strange kid, he thought.
“Hey big man.” Tommy greeted him, sitting down and wincing as his back twinged.
Tubbo cocked his head, “Are you alright, Tommy?”
“My back fucking hurts, man. It started itching yesterday, and now it hurts like I slept on bloody concrete.” he complained, attempting to stretch it out, immediately biting back a cry of pain.
The brunette raised a brow, and replied, “I’ll see if you’re okay, meet me in the science loos at 09:35. Does your teacher let you out to go to the loo?” Tommy nodded, a little confused by Tubbo’s sudden conjuring of a plan, but pleasantly so.
And so he met Tubbo in the grimy science toilets, in more pain and pissed off because he didn’t understand maths. The boy was waiting there patiently, with an understanding smile that Tommy couldn’t stay mad with.
“Hey big T, how was science?” he announced, strolling into the toilets and giving Tubbo a quick fistbump.
“Long, and full of words.” Tubbo walked behind him, “I’m gonna check your back, don’t make it weird, or you will just live in pain forever.”
Tommy just sucked in a breath, feeling oddly self conscious, and also in pain. Maybe his terrible posture was finally catching up with him.
From behind him, came a sound of surprise and slight pity, “Yikes, that looks sore.” a hand pressed painfully to his shoulder blade, “What the actual…” the hand was whipped and away and Tommy violently pulled his shirt back down, spinning around to face the other boy.
“What was that for? That hurt like fucking hell!” Tommy snapped. Tubbo seemed unphased, and didn’t return his angry tone, instead he just looked slightly concerned.
“It looks really swollen and bad, you should probably go to the doctors.” Tubbo stated, matter of factly. There was no pity in his tone, only concern and kindness, which was much better than pity. Tommy hated pity. It was dumb and got nothing done, like you pity the kids in those adverts on the TV, but the only people that ever donate to those charities were either millionaires or middle aged women with a saviour complex.
“I’m not going to the bloody doctors.” Tommy snapped, and the brunette only laughed at him. Tubbo was good like that, he didn’t seem bothered by Tommy’s angry tendencies.
The mood was suddenly somber as Tubbo said, “Really Tommy, this looks proper bad. At least get it checked out.” there was silence, then Tommy thanked his friend and left the bathroom to return to being angry at maths.
Tommy hated the doctors, it was too sterile and the corridors were way too long at the hospitals. It made him feel trapped, like he was some animal in a cage that all of the doctors were marvelling at. So he would not go to the doctors to get his stupid back checked out, Tubbo was most likely overreacting afterall.
Once back in class, he had a long chat with one of the girls sitting near him about foster care and how thoroughly fucked it is. Apparently she was also staying with some farmers, though they were much less old fashioned than Tommy’s foster parents. They actually seemed okay, they let the kids ride on the lawn mowers and tractors, and the kids did nice chores like collecting eggs and feeding the goats. He wasn’t jealous, Tommy didn’t have the energy for jealousy. It was a dumb emotion, like hope and pity, one that never got anything done. Tommy preferred anger, it got things done and it changed things.
He talked to the girls at lunch with Tubbo, grateful for some human interaction other than just Tubbo. The boy was great, but Tommy enjoyed the company of this group. They were all very similar, and very different. He and the girl from maths were in foster care, the girl called Crystal had split parents and Tubbo was in temporary accommodation, living with only his older sibling Eret and sister Niki. They could all complain about life and how much the universe must hate them. It distracted Tommy from the stinging sensation that seared in his shoulder blades at least.
Thank the lord it was Friday, and there was a thunderstorm forecast, signalling the break of the heatwave. Tommy and Tubbo were going to run around in the rain like lunatics, and it was going to be a blast, and once the stifling heat was gone Tommy’s dumb rash would piss off and he wouldn’t be able to worry about it any more.
“Hey big T!” Tommy called out, sprinting up to Tubbo in his sliders, the slap of shitty foam against pavement alerting the other boy long before Tommy shouted.
Tubbo smiled and stretched out his arms for the incoming tackle hug, “Let’s cause some chaos!” he cried out, embracing Tommy for a quick moment.
“Yeah!” Tommy shouted, pumping his fist into the air with utter joy.
And cause chaos they did, running around the neighbourhood crying out for joy, joining in with a few of the local kids as well, at one point going into one kid’s garden and jumping on their trampoline. They were soaked and cold, but the heatwave had broken so Tommy couldn’t feel anything but joy. The burning pain in his back was numbed by the cold rain that quickly soaked through his thin tee, and it was the only time that Tommy was thankful for the freezing cold nature of British rain.
It was dark by the time Tommy returned to Tubbo’s apartment, met with a worried Eret and a hysterical Niki. She thought the fact that they had ran around in a thunderstorm was hilarious, and she kept saying stuff like ‘never change’ and ‘never grow up’. Eret just sighed and handed them both a towel, but they still smiled at Tubbo’s messed up hair. The flat they were staying in only had one bedroom, so that was shared by Tubbo and Eret, leaving Niki with a mattress in the living room behind a screen. The living room was also the dining room and the kitchen, a table pushed crudely against the wall and a small cooking area that twisted around a corner. It was cramped, but at least they weren’t in that damned motel that Tommy had heard plenty about.
He got dried off and changed into some of his clothes that had somehow found their way into Tubbo’s possession, then ate some egg, chips and beans that Tubbo reheated for the both of them. It wasn’t the best, the beans had a weird skin on them and the egg yolk was overdone, but Tommy would have it over cold shepherds pie any day. He didn’t want to go back, so instead he just begged Eret to let him stay the night. His foster parents knew Tommy had no phone to call him on, so they would have to wait until tomorrow morning to know where he was. It was fine, they didn’t care at all.
“I am having the mattress, I live here.” Tubbo stated, plonking himself down on the mattress with crossed legs and a pout.
Tommy leaned back onto the mattress, flopping his back onto it and immediately regretting it, “Ouch- Well I’m the guest so I should have sleeping priorities.” Tubbo batted Tommy with his hand, then the blond boy retaliated by shoving Tubbo off of the mattress, laughing as the boy rolled onto the floor and spread out all his limbs, resembling a starfish, then went completely limp.
“Bleh.” Tubbo said, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth in a cartoonish death. He opened one eye, then started laughing with Tommy.
Eret trundled into the room, eyes tired and dressed in comfortable looking bright pink tracksuits, “I’m gonna go to sleep now, so if you boys wanna stay awake then you have to go downstairs.” That was a threat, Tommy realised, once his confused brain told him that ‘downstairs’ was the tiny desk under the staircase right next to the door. The only computer they had was there, and it was often reserved for Eret so they could type up essays.
It was almost midnight, so probably time to go to sleep, though it was a little early for his liking, he didn’t want to piss off Eret. Tommy knew they worked unbelievably hard trying to keep the family together, and keep their grades up as well. They were in sixth form, and spent every spare moment of time studying for their A-levels to try and make a better future for their younger siblings. It was inspiring, and Tommy didn’t want to take away from the little sleep the student got.
Tubbo ended up giving in and letting Tommy sleep on the mattress with him, top and tailing to try and give each other more space. Tubbo ended up switching around at like three in the morning and putting his pillow next to Tommy’s, snuggling up to him and complaining that he was cold. It was slightly annoying, but the presence of his new, closest friend kept the worst of the nightmares away.
Tommy woke up. He expected to see the dull walls of his bedroom, but was instead met with white walls reaching higher up than usual, and Tubbo clinging onto him. He pried the boy away, and found his way to the flat’s bathroom. He looked terrible, and felt pretty similar. Sleeping on a shitty mattress on the floor had done nothing for his sore back, in fact it made it even worse. Tommy took the time to twist around and look at himself in the mirror.
His back was red and inflamed, and his shoulder blades, usually jutting out of his skin unnaturally, were covered by swollen, angry skin, his back haven swollen by a considerable amount. He pressed a few fingers to it, flinching away instantly, but still horrified by the weird shape of his back. What the hell was wrong with him?
Tommy felt a wave of pain rush through him, causing him to double over and almost slam onto the linoleum.
He left quickly, saying a polite goodbye to Eret and Niki, and hugging Tubbo. The only things he carried were his rucksack and a plastic bag full of wet clothes.
The foster parents were pissed. The man was angrier than Tommy had ever seen him, and his stuff was already packed by the door. Honestly, Tommy expected this, especially since he got in a fight fourth period and punched the shit out of some stupid homophobe. But he was sad to leave this place, he would miss the local kids and the days in the heat they would spend cannonballing into the river. Most of all he would miss Tubbo. He had the boy’s number written in his little black battered notebook that he kept on him at all times, but that would never be the same. So he shoved all his clothes inside his rucksack, including the wet ones in the plastic bag, and left the shit-shovelling family.
It had been three weeks since he left the farm, and his back was in agony. He couldn’t stand up straight without tears pricking his eyes, and the only way he could sleep was by stealing paracetamol to take the edge away. It was a miserable existence, and when they told him that he was being moved to yet another family, he didn’t have the energy to be annoyed. He hoped that this one would be similar to the farm people - ignorant but still giving him the bare minimum.
Tommy found himself hunched over in a shitty fold up chair, waiting for the guy he had been told a little about. He didn’t remember much, the peeling paint on the doorframe had been much more interesting. All he knew was that his name was Phil something or other, and he had two kids. That was never good, foster kids were always treated like second best to actual kids, so Tommy was already not looking forward to this family.
“Thomas. Thomas, pay attention.” said a nasally voice. It was sweet, but devoid of kindness. The only person who consistently called him Thomas was Anita, the idiot woman who always seemed to be there for introductions. She said she was his key worker, or something. Tommy found it dumb, so he didn’t talk to her all that much.
The door swung open to reveal a man with mid-length blonde hair and a kind face. Tommy was pretty sure he was taller than the man.
“Hello mate!” he chirped, settling into a chair. Anita began to speak, so Tommy zoned out.
The man seemed nice enough. Tommy was pretty good at guessing what people would be like, and he guessed that this guy was going to be all nice and kind, until Tommy started to do stupid shit at school and returning home late, then he would become terrifying. He looked like he lashed out.
A jolt of pain rushing through his back brought him to reality.
“He tends to get in a lot of fights at school.” Anita drawled condescendingly.
Phil laughed, then said, “He’ll get on with Techno then, I hope. Though he doesn’t get in too many fights any more, he used to come home covered in bruises for the first few weeks!” he smiled fondly, pride crinkling at his eyes. That was odd, maybe this Phil guy wouldn’t be too bad afterall. That, or this Techno guy was going to beat the living shit out of him. Tommy decided the second option was the most likely.
The adults had been talking for a while now, and Tommy was focussing on the pain in his shoulder blades, imagining knives being twisted from inside his ribcage. It looked really cool in his head, he could attack people with his back-knives. It was awesome.
“Right, do you want to grab your stuff and we can head out?” Phil smiled at him. Tommy stored the ‘back-knives’ image away in his thoughts for when he was trying to get to sleep and slung his bag over his shoulder in an automatic motion, not thinking about how he shouldn’t do that. Painful shockwaves stopped him in his tracks, and his knees nearly buckled. When Phil asked if he was good, Tommy told him that it was dizziness from his low blood pressure.
They got to a shabby looking estate car with a lanky teenager waiting inside. Tommy decided that this was probably not Techno, since this guy was built like a stick man and could probably be snapped like a match.
“This is Wilbur, if you were wondering. Techno’s at home, he refused to leave his room. Something about school, I don’t remember.” Phil turned to Wilbur, who was in the back seat, and handed him Tommy’s rucksack, “This is Tommy, be nice to him.”
Wilbur simply nodded, taking the bag and setting it aside. Phil gestured for him to sit in the passenger seat, so Tommy climbed inside and adjusted himself so his back wasn’t screaming out in pain.
“So, how are you, Tommy?” Phil slid into the driver’s seat and began to pull out of the car park, “What was your last family like?”
Tommy, desperate for a distraction from the searing pain the his back, let himself ramble about the days by the river and the stupid rules on the farm. He didn’t mention Tubbo, or any of the stuff they did together.
Wilbur had been listening with a fond smile, “I’ve got a good question.” he smiled mischievously, “What is your record for being chucked out of a school? Mine is three days.” To Tommy’s surprise, Phil just laughed at that, instead of telling Wilbur off.
Tommy smiled proudly, suddenly feeling at home, “Four and a half hours.” This was his domain. He reigned king over being chucked out of schools.
Wilbur just laughed and congratulated him, and they chatted about what crimes they had committed to get thrown out so fast. Apparently Wilbur had smashed through a laptop and thrown it out a window, consequently smashing the window as well. It was impressive, to say the least.
Tommy began to hope. This family didn’t seem all that bad.
The car ride wasn’t too long, and Wilbur talked about all the dumb shit he and his friends had done, obviously missing out details as to not get in any trouble. Phil seemed okay with that, he kept chuckling at literally anything. Tommy felt much less nervous about meeting Techno now.
Suddenly, the conversation he and Wilbur were having was interrupted by the car jolting to a stop, sending shockwaves up Tommy’s back. It seemed incredibly sensitive today, he thought.
“Right! Grab your sack and come inside, Wilbur, show him around.” Phil announced, clambering out of the car and tossing the keys to Wilbur, who was already at the front door.
It was a modest house, semi-detached and with a nice size driveway. It looked rather old, kinda like it had been one massive building once, but it was then separated into two homes. It looked to be two storeys guessing by the windows, but the attic could’ve been converted for all he knew.
Tommy was shown to his room, it was the last along the hallway to the right, past three doors. There was also a door to the left, which he was told was the bathroom. Wilbur’s room was next to his, Techno’s was the first along the hallway. Phil’s room was downstairs, along with his office, a living room and a homely kitchen diner. There were old wooden beams that ran across the ceiling and walls, and the ceiling was rather low. Wilbur had to duck under the doorways, the lanky bitch. His room had a slight slant to half of the roof, and a window. It was quaint, and very homely.
Tommy actually liked his room. The walls were painted a nice neutral violet tinged cream colour, and the carpet was speckled and beige. It was nice, plain, but nice.
He wanted to flop onto his bed, but he might die from the pain. So he simply slipped onto his front, resting his head on the pillow and relaxing into the faint smell of fabric freshener. Despite him not even laying on his back, it began to hurt like hell. It was the worst it had ever been, worse than after that fight a couple of weeks ago where a kid punched it directly, it was enough to summon tears. Tommy rushed into the family’s bathroom, locking the door, knowing something was up. His mind flashed up the ‘back-knives’ image. It felt all too real, the back-knives were twisting out of his shoulders. Wincing, he pulled off his shirt to try and get a look at his back. He might pass out - for real.
Tommy slipped onto his knees, static dancing in his vision. He was in agony, he tried to scream but nothing came out. For a moment, he was convinced that he was dying. Then a burning sensation took over his senses, the aching ceased with an abruptness that could give one whiplash, and suddenly Tommy was free.
He opened his eyes, not remembering closing them, expecting to see God or some shit. What a surprise that would be for Phil, to foster a kid and immediately find him dead in your bathroom before you gave him his first meal.
Instead of God, or maybe the Devil, Tommy saw a tile floor. And, oh, was that blood? He attempted to sit up, but was stopped by something pressing on his back. Instinctually, he braced for the wave of pain, but was met with a weird sensation. What limb was behind him? What was pressing against the shower? He whipped his head around, realising it was just his wings pressing against the transparent plastic-
Wait.
His wings?
Tommy jumped up, tipping backwards with the new weight, freaked out by the enormous amount of blood that was splattered over the tiles. He backed into the shower, slamming the sliding door, breath steaming up the plastic.
He, Big Man TommyInnit, had wings.
A knock sounded, cutting through his panicked thoughts.
“Who is in there and why are you taking so long?” a deep, unfamiliar voice sounded.
Tommy stammered, already terrified of this Techno guy, “Uh, Big Man TommyInnit!” he regretted that the moment it left his mouth, “And I’m tryna figure out how the fuck your stupid ass shower works!” That was believable, right?
“It’s been like, half an hour man. You could’ve just said.” there was a pause, “You’ve gotta turn on the hot water, just pull the cord so that the red light switches on.”
Tommy thanked the guy, then got to clearing the blood off of the floor with some wet toilet paper. Thankfully it was still fresh, so it cleaned up well. He took a quick shower, attempted to dry off his wings and failed, then stood in front of the mirror in just his shorts.
They stretched out, to a staggering length. The insides of them were alternating black and white, darker on the outsides and white where they joined his back. The other side was tinged in a striking green, the black with white speckles appearing on the very edge where the feathers spread apart as the wings stretched out. The rest were a wonderful green, one that reminded him painfully of Tubbo.
Tommy watched, mesmerized as the wings moved in the ways he commanded them to. He froze as a shout rang out across the house, it was Wilbur.
“When’s dinner ready?”
“About three quarters of an hour!” Phil shouted back. That was enough time for Tommy to work out what the fuck he was supposed to.
The wings were very cool. But they were not human.
Tommy felt conflicted. What the hell was he supposed to do? He kind of hoped this was a strange lucid dream, but something told him that this was all too real. He could say the date, and the time (roughly) and that meant it wasn’t one of those dreams. He couldn’t cut them off, he’d bleed out and die.
For now, he sat down on the floor and cherished his pain free existence. It was lovely after living with agony for nearly a month.
It had probably been about half an hour, since Tommy’s hair was nearly dry. He would have to leave the bathroom and have a family dinner in about fifteen minutes, and right now he had massive, green wings protruding from his shoulders.
Staring in the mirror at the speckled feathers, he wished they would just fuck off right back from where they came from. He pulled them in as close as possible, imagining them tucking back under his skin. He screwed his eyes shut as a wave of sickeningly familiar pain rushed through him. The pain succeeded to a low thrum, like it had been on the first few days, and Tommy opened his eyes to see he didn’t have any wings. What the hell? Where had they gone?
He twisted around to see his back, and instead of the itchy red rash there were two, thin, straight cuts where the wings would’ve been. Panicking, he tried to push the wings out again, and to his surprise they slid out of the cuts in his back, a slight sting accompanying it, but nothing compared to earlier.
Picking up his shirt and pulling his wings under his skin, Tommy cleaned up for dinner. There was a spot of blood on his shirt, but it was small and probably insignificant, and he could just change his shirt.
Slinking back to his new room, Tommy changed into blood free clothes just in time for Phil to call out dinner. In the corridor was Wilbur and what Tommy presumed was Techno, both walking down the narrow, steep stairs. Techno was built like a wall, he was almost as tall as Wilbur - which was very tall - and he had bright pink, excessively long hair.
The dining area was simply a table backed against a wall in the kitchen, surrounded by mismatched wooden chairs of various sizes and levels of decoration. Tommy presumed that he would be on a spare chair, the small, plainish wooden one with a thin cushion on the seat he guessed. Phil was bustling around the kitchen, a delicious smell wafting into the hallway Tommy had paused in, something like pasta bake or maybe lasagna. Without hesitation, Wilbur and Techno slipped into their own chairs, Wilbur’s a wooden stool with a crocheted seat decoration and Techno’s a large wooden chair with arms and a faux fur rug draped over it. It was rather grand, much more grand than the quaint feel of the old house.
“Come sit down, Tommy!” Phil called from the kitchen, balancing plates on one hand and wiping the workside down with the other. Quickly, Tommy pulled back the chair and slumped into it by habit.
Wilbur studied him with his large, brown eyes, “Your posture is tragic.” he stated, playing around with his fork. Phil let out a chuckle from the kitchen, then plonked down two plates of lasagna in front of Wilbur and Techno.
He went to straighten up, feeling the slight twinge in his back, though it was nothing compared to this morning. Grinning, Tommy picked up his fork and twirled it, mimicking Wilbur, “My posture is perfect, I’ll have you know.” Phil laughed again, carrying through the last two plates and settling into his chair with a content smile.
Suddenly, Tommy was reminded that this was a family dinner, the most terrifying thing ever. He had let down his guard for a moment, too caught up in the last hour’s events, and he had probably broken some rule and he was probably about to see Phil get angry-
“Tommy? I’m tryna offer you a drink.” Techno said, standing awkwardly in the kitchen with a large bottle of soda.
“Oh- uh, then whatever. I don’t really care.” he stammered, going back to his usual hunched over posture, finding safety in the closed off nature of it. Techno grunted and poured out a glass of whatever that was, then set it down on the coaster in front of Tommy.
Should he begin to eat? Phil had, Wilbur was spinning his fork- oh, no, Wilbur was fetching his fork from the ground, Techno was slipping into his fur-lined chair and Tommy just stared at his lasagna, maybe expecting it to insult him or something.
“So! Tommy!” Phil smiled brightly, “Do you remember me from a few weeks ago? You did look a bit out of it, but we did have a little chat.”
He did? Tommy racked his blotchy memory, forking out a slice of strange emotions that was labelled in his memory as ‘meeting people’, searching through it for blonde hair and a kind face. “Nope, I’m pretty sure I forgot that.”
“Ah…” Phil sliced the lasagna in half, then looked over to Tommy, “You can eat, by the way, mate.”
Some tension dropped from his shoulders and he hastily began to shovel the lasagna into his mouth, sighing in the wonderful, warm feeling that it provoked. It was really good lasagna, with alternating layers of tomato sauce and spinach and ricotta, with a cheese sauce baked to perfection on the very top.
“Calm down, it’s not going anywhere.” Wilbur joked, slicing his meal into tiny little squares. Techno raised a single brow, and silence spread uncomfortably over the dinner table.
Once finished chewing, Phil spoke again, “So! Now you’ve had some time to settle in, I’ll introduce you to the few rules we have around here.” this was where it all went downhill, Tommy thought. Phil continued to speak, listing off a few rules, “Firstly, if you’re going anywhere, make sure you text me or something. I get worried really quick, and I don’t mind you guys going out with friends to town, just try not to break too many laws. Keep down the noise after 10pm, try not to swear - I won’t get mad if you do - and that’s about it. Along with basic respect, there’s not many other rules.”
Tommy let out a sigh, glad that this was a much more chilled household than some of the other ones. There were no strict rules on electronics, no reward and punishment system, it all seemed pretty tame to be honest.
“You probably want to know a bit about Wilbur and Techno, so they are going to introduce themselves.” Phil said, gently nudging Wilbur.
Wilbur sighed, sat up even straighter on his stupid stool, then announced, “My name is Wilbur Soot, and I write songs sometimes, and I have been living here for two years almost.” he smiled at Tommy, a gentle, welcoming, knowing smile, “Your turn, Techno.”
The pink haired man rubbed his face with his hand, sighing, “I guess this is inevitable…” he sat up a little straighter, suddenly much more terrifying, “I am Technoblade, I’ve lived here for just over one year and I hate all humans.”
Phil choked on the lump of lasagna he’d just eaten, and Tommy felt himself laugh with the other guys, finally feeling safe. Maybe this was the good foster home, a break from the usual, a quick moment to relax. He agreed with himself that he’d enjoy this, but not get attached, he would make the most of the freedom he had just been granted and he’d meet up with Tubbo over the upcoming summer holidays.
The rest of dinner was peppered with amicable small talk, and Tommy took the piss out of the way Wilbur cut his lasagna up into tiny little squares. Overall, great distraction from the fact he had fucking wings now.
He wanted to talk to Tubbo. And since his phone was still being set up by the kind Phil, he couldn’t text or call on it. So instead he mustered the courage to ask Phil if he could use the landline, surprised to hear him agree happily.
Taking the phone up to his room, Tommy dialed Tubbo’s number and hoped that he would pick up.
“Hello?” came the confused voice of his best friend.
“Tubbo!” Tommy all but yelled, then in a slightly lowered tone he said, “Hey big T! I’m calling from the new foster home’s landline, they seem pretty cool so far.”
“Tommy!” Tubbo shouted through the line, “I’m so glad to hear from you again, my texts weren’t sending and I was getting a bit worried.”
They chatted for a little while, Tommy ranting about Wilbur and Techno, describing the best lasagna he’d had since ever, and telling Tubbo how wonderful Phil had been so far. Tubbo relayed how sad Eret and Niki had been when they heard he was gone, and went on to say how they might be getting a proper council house some time soon.
“Big T, I need to tell you something.” Tommy finally said, interrupting Tubbo’s odd story about something that happened at school. The boy paused and told him to go ahead.
“Okay, so you know how my back has been hurting for ages?” Tommy asked, pausing for the boy to affirm he was listening, “Well, I found the culprit.” he looked back at his huge wings, he had let them out and locked the door after practicing putting them back in.
“You did? Oh, I hope you’re okay, since my back has got the exact same rash you had a few weeks ago!”
What.
“Tubbo, don’t fuck with me,” Tommy warned, clutching the phone and lowering his voice, “This is serious, please, don’t mess around.”
There was a slight hesitation, “Tommy, I’m serious.” his voice was innocent, slightly concerned and tinged with the ever present kindness that Tubbo carried with him.
“Basically, the pain got really really bad, then I passed out on the bathroom floor, and when I woke up I had wings.” the truth was out now, Tommy couldn’t take it back.
The line was silent for a long time, so much time that Tommy almost called out to Tubbo in fear of him hanging up on him, then came the boy’s voice, quiet, fearful and confused, “Tommy? Is this real?”
“Yes.” he replied firmly, pulling his wings around himself in a sort of cocoon.
“I…” Tubbo began, pausing for a moment, “I hope I get bee wings.”
For some reason, Tommy found himself dissolving into fits of laughter, dissipating all the tension and talking about his wings to Tubbo like they were normal.
Tommy returned the landline to its charging port, thanking Phil and heading up to his room, ready to sleep early even though it was Friday. He could probably sleep for 12 hours straight, he thought.
Unpacking his toothbrush, Tommy changed into some pyjama shorts and headed to the bathroom. Surprisingly, he found Techno stood at the sink brushing his teeth as well.
“It's half ten, what are you doing going to sleep so early?” Tommy asked the man, who had his hair down, letting it reach its full, staggering, length. It reached his legs for Christ's sake!
“What am I supposed to do? I finished all my assignments, and I don’t really have anything better to do.” Techno answered once he had spat foam into the sink, “Plus, I get up early.”
Tommy hummed through the toothpaste, watching Techno brush his hair and apply some kind of skin cream. He seemed like the kind of guy to do that.
“What time do you get up?” Tommy asked around the toothpaste foaming up his mouth, well aware that it was barely understandable.
Techno made a weird ‘uh’ sound, then answered, “About 5:30am.”
“Why the shit-” he cut himself off, realizing that these people don’t like swearing. Techno seemed less than bothered, staring at him with his usual deadpan face.
“You’re not that bad, y’know.” Tommy said absentmindedly, washing his toothbrush.
Techno barked a laugh, then assured him, “This place is safe, kid. No need to be afraid, I know I was when I first got here.” there was something strange in his tone, something that told Tommy this man had seen some shitty foster homes before this one. Hope filled his heart, and he longed for permanence.
Once out of the bathroom and within the confines of his room, Tommy let out his wings after taking off his t-shirt. Deciding it probably wasn’t the best idea to sleep with his wings tucked away, something told him it would cause him pain, he slept on his side with one wing gently folded up behind him and the other acting as a blanket, a heated blanket. He slept the best he had in months, the bed was warm and comfy and he wasn’t in pain. He also didn’t feel the burning feeling of loneliness and coldness, the missing something he never had. Maybe he was meant to have wings after all.
Cracking an eye open, Tommy expected to see the mouldy, off-white ceiling of his room in the group home, instead he was met with slanted wooden beams and old furniture lining his room. It felt wonderfully homely, he thought, rolling over. That was a mistake.
Tommy sat up, flexing his wings behind him to stretch out his muscles.
Oh, right. He had wings now.
Stretching, Tommy wondered what he should do. It was around half seven, the shower sounded nice, but he also didn’t want to leave the warmth of his bed. In the end, he decided he would much rather be clean and warm, pulling himself into the cold air and twisting to pop his spine.
He nearly left without a shirt, what a bleary idiot. Why wasn’t the shirt going on- oh right. Wings.
The wings were pulled in and the shirt pulled over his head, and he began the trek over the hallway and to the bathroom. Thankfully, he met no other people, and the shower was free.
Deciding against letting his wings out, Tommy took a nice, brief but scalding hot shower. It was actually very satisfying on his back, since all he could feel from it for the last few weeks was pain, and the warmth that now spread from the water was a euphoric sensation that he relaxed into.
Once clean and dry, he slinked back into his room and pulled on some clean looking clothes, throwing the dirty ones into the washing basket at the top of the stairs. He hoped Phil wouldn’t mind.
By then he was starving, well, not really starving, but he was very hungry. Voices rang out from downstairs, he could recognise Phil and Techno, so Wilbur was either being very quiet or still asleep. Tommy guessed it was the latter, Wilbur didn’t seem like the kind of guy to just be quiet.
He strolled down the stairs with more confidence than he had, met with Phil’s kind face and Techno’s pink hair up in a tight bun. He had obviously showered sometime this morning, since it was damp.
“Oh! Good morning Tommy! How did you sleep?” Phil asked from the kitchen.
Tommy entered the kitchen, and the smell of pancakes assaulted his senses, “I slept well, thanks.” he found it funny how Phil was meant to be his father, yet he was taller than the man, albeit by only an inch, but Tommy wasn’t done growing yet, “Are you making pancakes?”
“Yup!” Phil chirped, pouring batter into a frying pan and swirling it around so it covered the whole surface in a thin layer of pancake mix.
“Imma go wake up Wilby.” Techno rumbled from his chair, ducking up the stairs.
The kitchen fell into silence as the pancake cooked, Tommy standing awkwardly by the table and Phil leaning against the workside.
“What’s wrong?” Phil asked quietly.
What did that mean? What had Tommy done? He didn’t break any rules so far, why was he getting talked to? Panic began to fill his bloodstream, what did Phil know?
“What does that- What do you mean?” Tommy stammered, picking at his nails out of habit.
Phil smiled at him, “You’re not in trouble mate, you just seem so… distant.” there was something melancholic in those dark blue eyes, “What do I need to do to make you feel at home?”
Why was Phil blaming himself? “You don’t- You’ve done everything great- I just-” he took a long, deep breath, “It seems too good to be true. I feel like you might snap at me, or something will- something has to go wrong!” Tommy felt the primal fear fill his vision, “It seems so nice, I don’t understand.”
“Mate…” Phil muttered, flipping the pancake before approaching Tommy, “You good with touch?”
He held out his hands, “Only hands.” he didn’t like touch at all, but he needed to know someone was there.
Two warm hands enveloped his own, gripping them firmly with a reassuring strength, and Tommy found his breath. Thankfully, he managed to calm down before any tears wormed their horrid way out of his eyes, he didn’t need Techno or Wilbur seeing him cry on his first morning.
“I want to help you Tommy.” Phil stated, peering into his eyes, “I want to give you a safe home, people you can rely on, some sense of permanence.”
He nodded, gripping onto the warm hands.
Two sets of feet pattered on the stairs, signifying Techno and Wilbur’s return. Wilbur was wearing a tank top, like Techno, so you could clearly see how skinny the boy was, though Techno was wearing a jumper over his.
The lanky bitch seemed to realise something, then whispered something to his brother and the two ran back up, returning shortly with a jumper draped over Wilbur. Tommy thought nothing of it, finding the cupboard with the plates in and setting the table. The brothers helped, getting apple juice and other stuff for breakfast while Phil started on another pancake.
Techno took the first one, dusting it in sugar then drenching it in lemon juice. Wilbur sat on his stupid stool and sipped a dark coffee, looking tired beyond belief. Under a certain light, Tommy was sure Wilbur would look more like a corpse than a human.
“Tommy, you take the next one.” Wilbur said, voice gravelly from sleep, downing the rest of his coffee and gently resting it on the table.
“Thanks big man.” Tommy grabbed his plate and set it on the workside by Phil, who seemed to find something rather funny. Maybe it was that he called Wilbur, the stickman, ‘big man’. He was handed a pancake, then he took it to the table and sunk into his chair.
To the utter disgust of Techno for some reason, Tommy lathered his pancake in golden syrup, rolling it up and laughing as some dripped onto his fingers.
Overall, breakfast was good, quiet most of the time, though Tommy didn’t feel like talking much. All he wanted was to get back up to his room so could send Tubbo a photo of his wings, since Phil had gotten his phone up and running. He also just wanted to stretch, and be alone.
Locking the door and pulling the blinds to, Tommy pulled on a tank top and let out his wings unfurl from beneath his skin. He snapped a couple of photos, making sure to include the green bits he was sure Tubbo would appreciate, then sent three photos to his friend. The boy replied quickly, complimenting him and saying something about how powerful he looked.
Today, Phil told him over breakfast, they would head out to town and buy some clothes and any other things he wanted. It was starting to worry Tommy, he didn’t particularly enjoy getting spent money on, but he wasn’t going to say no to a few more shirts. It would be just him and Phil as well, Techno and Wilbur were doing their own thing, with their own friends.
Once in town, Phil led him to the Primark and he picked out some navy blue shorts and some beige canvas shorts, a white t-shirt with red sleeves and a few other bits and bobs. They also picked up some Cola from a garage, he would never admit it but he did have a bit of a Cola addiction.
When they got home he was ready for lunch.
Only Techno, him and Phil were home, Wilbur had gone off with some friends Phil had said. It reminded Tommy of a particular friend he had been meaning to meet up with for a while now.
“Hey Phil, could you drive me to a friend’s place sometime? I’ve been meaning to meet up with him since I left the place he and I met, and he doesn’t have anyone who could drive him.” Tommy asked as he loaded dirty mugs into the dishwasher.
Phil hummed from where he was digging through the fridge, then he stood up with some tomato puree, cheese and ham, “Of course mate! When were you thinking?” he held out the ham and cheese, “Want both?”
Tommy nodded, then slammed the dishwasher shut before answering, “I’ll text big T some time, see when he’s free.”
Phil began to chuckle at the nickname whilst he pulled some wraps out of the cupboard.
“What? What? It’s just what I call him.” he leaned against the worktop, the shorter man still chuckling as he spread tomato puree and some pesto onto the wrap, then decorated it with some ham and plenty of cheese, sandwiching it between two wraps. How odd.
Phil proceeded to take the weird wrap-sandwich and plonk it into the frying pan.
“It's a quesadilla.” Phil explained, “Could you go tell Techno to come get some food?”
Tommy gave Phil a mock salute, turning to run up the stairs but pausing as Phil shouted one last thing.
“Make sure to knock!”
Tommy grinned, knowing that if he hadn’t been reminded to knock he would’ve just barged in and shouted, then would’ve probably gotten killed by a 6’4’’ wall of muscle.
Rapping on the wooden door, he cried out to the pink haired teen after a confused ‘heh?’ confirmed that he was, indeed, alive.
He returned to Phil, pride filling his soul. He was doing well here, he hadn’t thoroughly fucked over anything. And he would be meeting Tubbo! The very thought of meeting his best friend caused him to bounce in place.
“Right, this one is for you, mate.” Phil offered him a plate with the wrap sandwich thing on it. It was sliced into slightly uneven triangles, like a pizza. Wary, he lifted a slice up to his nose, getting wafts of beautiful melted cheese. Okay, this was gonna be great.
Taking a large bite, he basically moaned at how wonderful it tasted, the rich tomato and melted cheese, salty specks of ham and all wrapped up in thin layers of tortilla. He could hear Phil’s laughing, and the rumble of Techno speaking, but all he could process right now was the euphoric feeling that the quesadilla incited.
Slowly, he calmed down enough to thank Phil, and say hi to Techno, who just grabbed a plate and left. What a strange guy, Tommy thought. He worked all day on school projects, surely he couldn’t just be doing that. Either that, or he was just some massive nerd.
Once finished, Tommy thanked Phil again and rushed up to his room to text Tubbo and stretch out his wings; they were beginning to ache again. Flopping onto his bed with a sigh, he pulled out his phone and clicked on the name ‘Big T’, sending a few messages. Not too many, he wasn’t clingy. He then went onto Instagram, absentmindedly scrolling through dumb memes and videos.
Maybe he should try and find out what bird his wings come from? It would be nice to know, he could tell Tubbo as well so his friend could get a better idea what his wings looked like. So he searched up some birds he knew, going through british garden birds first, finding that they kind of looked like a woodpecker, except his wings had the green bits on them. Curious, he searched up ‘woodpecker green’ and found out that it was, indeed, a breed of woodpecker. The illustrations matched up perfectly, the mottled black and white parts almost identical.
Warily, he searched up ‘winged people’, finding no real results except for art and stories and shit.
Sighing, he fell face first onto his bed, relaxing into the safety that this home provided. He spent the rest of the day watching dumb videos and texting Tubbo, until dinner was called by Phil.
Wilbur must’ve gotten home sometime, because the lanky bitch was standing bickering with Phil, no malice in his tone or stance.
“Hey, broomstick. You’re here!” Tommy announced, strolling into the kitchen as if he’d always lived here.
Wilbur turned to glare at him, but Phil’s uncontrollable laughter made it look really dumb, since Wilbur was trying to hold in the chuckles as well.
“What? What? You kinda look like a broomstick, you’re tall, skinny and the dumb hair adds to the look!” At that point, Wilbur ended up in fits of giggles, Techno coming down the stairs with a look of pure confusion painted on his face.
“You guys confuse me.” he muttered, grabbing his plate and taking it through to the table and sighing as he slipped into his chair.
It only sent the two further into giggles, Tommy joining Techno with a plate of what looked like chicken, couscous and roasted vegetables. It smelled lovely, the chicken was wrapped in bacon as well, which made it about ten times better.
Phil and Wilbur calmed down and joined the other two in eating the wonderful meal, talking about what Wilbur had been doing and how busy town had been. The lanky bitch had been meeting up with this guy called ‘Schlatt’ who Phil seemed to not really like the idea of, and the mention of the guy sent the conversation sour. Thankfully, Techno of all people managed to redirect the conversation.
“Hey, have you added Tommy to the group chat yet?”
Phil latched on, grateful for the distraction, “Yeah, Wil, you should add him.” The boy nodded, saying he would do it later or something.
“You guys have a family group chat?” Tommy asked, confused as to why someone would even think of such a thing.
Wilbur nodded, eating a carefully sliced cube of chicken. What a weirdo.
He and Wilbur exchanged numbers, and soon enough he was added to the group chat.
broomstick added you to sleepy bois inc
broomstick: whos who
(unknown number): technology
(unknown number): Phil!
BIGMAN: ight thx
technology: bwahaha
technology: why are you bigman
Phil!: That’s great.
broomstick: phil types like an old man
technology: old
BIGMAN: you people are strange
Phil!: I am not that old!
broomstick: capitalization, ew
technology: proper grammar, nerd
Phil!: You’re the English student here.
BIGMAN: YOUR RIGHT HE TYPES LIEK AN OLD MAN LMAO
broomstick: thats right tommy, we all make fun of phil here
technology: he is very old
broomstick: he also invented minecraft
Phil!: Oh, not this again.
BIGMAN: ???
technology: lol same tommy
broomstick: he did its true
BIGMAN: didt notch or smth???
technology: well yes but we dont like him
broomstick: nah phil did
Phil!: I didn’t invent Minecraft. I simply play it, sometimes.
BIGMAN: why do u bother typin like that
broomstick: you did youre in denial
Phil!: It’s easier to understand.
technology: damn ur old lol
BIGMAN: ight ive had enough of your groupchat im done
Phil!: I am not that old!
technology: see ya nerd
broomstick: ur short bye
Phil!: Goodnight Tommy!
BIGMAN: god stop acting like my brothers its weird
broomstick: stop i will cry
technology: im going as well
BIGMAN: got more schoolwork?
broomstick: LMAO HE KNOWS TOO WELL
technology: nah i wanna play on computer
BIGMAN: what r u playin
broomstick: mc, probs
technology: yup…
Phil!: Thank me for that.
BIGMAN: Thank you Phil, for creating Minecraft.
broomstick: HAHJHSAH
Phil!: Thatsnot waht i meant!!!
BIGMAN: too late, philza minecraft
technology: i can hear wil dying
Phil!: You might kill him.
BIGMAN: good he is too tall
broomstick: plwads i beag spaer me tomym
BIGMAN: imma leave
He turned off his phone, stretching his wings out until they hit the wooden beams of his room. He was beginning to get used to the new appendages, the act of stretching them out and tucking them back in becoming easier each time he did it.
Just as he was texting Tubbo a link to a random video, there was a banging on his door, too strong to be Wilbur and too forceful to be Phil, so by process of elimination, the person rapping on his door was the strange Technoblade.
Too caught up in his own thoughts, Tommy forgot to shout back at the person that he was very not ready for anyone to come into his room, and upon seeing the door handle sink he panicked and shouted, “I’m fucking naked!”
The door handle was dropped, and a rumble came from the other side, “Sorry.” it was Techno.
Pulling his wings in and grabbing a shirt, pulling it over his tank top, Tommy made sure he was decent before shouting a confirmation.
The pink haired teen trundled into his room, dressed in tracksuits, a jumper and an old cotton tank top. It was odd, but looked comfortable nonetheless.
Techno sat down on the end of the bed, a far off look in his eyes.
What was this meant to be? Tommy found the familiar panic flood into his veins, increasing with the length of silence Techno was leaving.
Out of his pocket, Techno pulled a single, black and white mottled feather with the distinct green on the other side. Tommy felt his heart sink, and stomach drop. He was done, this rest was over, he was out of this lovely household. All hope vanished into thin air, and his mind began to wander around the possibilities. If the system found out, he’d surely be taken to some institution and maybe the people would do testing on him and he’d be stuck in a padded cell for the rest of his life and he might as well just go outside and get hit by a bus-
“Hey, kid, it’s okay.” Techno reassured him, pulling him out of his thoughts with a gentle hand on his. The man then proceeded to pull the jumper off his shoulders, and from his back, almost immediately, sprouted two magnificent pink tinged wings. They were mostly white, with the signature pink striped over the very edges of the wings, where Tommy’s green parts ended and gave way to black mottled feathers. He curled them around himself, showing the mostly white but speckled in bright pink outsides.
Tommy gawked at the display, in awe of how confident Techno seemed about his massive wings. They were huge, reflecting the size of the bearer.
“Holy shit.” Tommy muttered, earning a light chuckle from the other.
Techno grinned for the first time, “You can let yours out now.” So he did, removing his shirt and unfurling his wings from his back, sighing into the relieving sensation.
“How many of you fuckers have wings?” Tommy breathed softly, still in awe with twelve different, full force, emotions wracking his brain.
“All of us do.” Someone said from the doorway, which Tommy quickly identified as Wilbur, with two wonderful butterfly wings flitting behind him. Phil wandered into the hallway, striking black wings folded behind him.
“When I met you at the group home, I knew you had wings growing in.” Phil stated, brushing past Wilbur and sitting beside Techno on Tommy’s bed, “You looked like you were in so much pain when I picked you up, meaning these wings must’ve grown out on your first night.”
He nodded in response, then recalled the tragic night to Phil.
From then on, the blinds in the house stayed drawn all the time, not that the place got much natural light anyways, and Tommy got handmade shirts with slits in the back for his wings so he didn’t have to wear tank tops all the time. He spent Sunday adjusting to his new reality before school on Monday.