Chapter Text
The capital’s market square could never be defined as “calm”. Even late into the evening as it was, stalls were still set up, selling spiced grilled meats on sticks, plush fur mittens, hanging charms that shimmered in the fleeting dusk light, and everything in-between. The foot traffic didn’t stop either, shoulder-to shoulder, flowing like the currents in an ocean. Tommy kept his steps light and his body low to the ground, trying not to draw attention. He darted and weaved between the bodies easily, a fish in the water, nervously turning the smooth stone in his hand. The people that did care to look at him sneered and held their children closer, whether it was because of the matted bottle-brush tail and clever ears he sported or the dirty, shabby clothes that marked him out as a street kid, he didn’t care. He was too focused on the task at hand.
Suddenly, he felt something catch on his lingering foot, a cry rang out as a man tripped over Tommy’s heel, and fell to the pavement, making the people around him jump away in surprise. The things the man had evidently been holding, loaves of bread, rolls of fabric, and a fair few apples, sprawled over the ground in front of him. He immediately looked up to glare at Tommy, and the boy could feel multiple eyes from the crowd follow suit before the people they belonged to bent down to help the man.
Tommy slipped the stone back into his tattered pants pocket, grinning in a way that might be mistaken for an apology. Perfect.
“Terribly sorry.” He murmured to the man, who was now being helped up by a woman, before darting forward to grab the nearest fallen loaf of bread.
He turned on his heel, weaving and bursting from the crowd before anyone could process what he’d done. Behind him, he heard the man cry out, “Hey! Stop him!”
Tommy shoved the bread into the bag at his side, pumping his legs as hard as he could. The sounds of pursuit, shoes clopping against cobble, made his ears flick behind him. He ran down the alleyway, familiarity with the winding street and night vision giving him an advantage, but it was easily cancelled out by the fact that he was scrawny and hungry and not in the best shape for sprints.
As he turned a corner, he noticed a familiar stack of crates by a back door, and thanked every god he could think of. Barely losing momentum, he lept and scrabbled up the boxes with all the grace of a wet cat in a pond. Grace didn’t matter though, because just as he got to the roof of the building, the pile toppled, and a second later, the men turned the corner, still in what they thought was hot pursuit.
Tommy grinned, watching them turn another corner with heaving breaths. The cool night air stung his lungs, fresh and invigorating. The feeling was almost more worth it than the food.
Food. Tommy pried open his bag, worn leather soft against his calloused hands. The loaf of bread sat innocently among his things, and he greedily tore a big hunk of it to stuff in his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring it for as long as he could stand before his stomach cried out in protest and he swallowed.
It was almost painful to close the bag again, but he had to make it last as long as possible. He didn’t know when another chance like this would spring up.
Now that he wasn’t surrounded by the warmth of other people and of the streetlights, and the adrenaline was fading from his system, he realized how cold it was. It didn’t help that he had worked up a bit of a sweat running. He rubbed his arms, red long sleeve shirt not doing much to combat the wind that blew unhindered over the roofs.
Looking around, he realized he was only a few streets away from Tubbo’s house. Surely he wouldn’t mind if Tommy stopped in quickly to warm up before heading home?
Of course he wouldn’t mind. It was always a joy to have big-man-innit in your home after all.
He made his way along the roof tops, holding out his arms and tail for balance, hopping from roof to roof over thinner alleys and streets. Most of the buildings where about the same height, thank Prime, and he had a pretty great view from where he was. It was a wonderfully clear night, and stars were just starting to peek into existence on the darkening sky. On the horizon, the Castle where king Eret lived sat proudly on a hill, overlooking the Capital’s citizens. Below, a few people still milled about here and there, but anyone out at this hour would likely seek the warmth and light of the lampposts, concentrated near the market. But even people that weren’t out were awake, Tommy could hear faint music and laughter, and smell smoke from stoves and fireplaces. It held a beautiful familiarity to it, like a favorite book you knew the story of by heart but read anyway.
He hopped over to a black-shingled roof, noting the window on the third floor that spilled out light into the street. It was ajar. Perfect.
He got to the edge of the roof, and, gripping it tightly, swung himself through the window, met with a light gasp as he landed on a wooden floor.
“Tommy!” Tubbo said, dismounting his bed, his goat ears perked up from under his brown curls, and his short tail wagged.
“Ayup big man,” Tommy gave him a mock salute, “mind if I warm up here for a minute?”
“Go ahead. Dad’s not home yet, but he will be soon, I think.” Tubbo warned.
Tubbo never said much about his dad, only that he wouldn’t like Tommy (and he didn’t). So most of the time they hung out it was in secret. Schlatt was, after all, one of the most respected hybrids in town (not that that was saying much) and he couldn’t have his reputation ruined by his kid hanging out with street trash.
It always made meeting up more exciting.
Tommy sat crisscross, opposite from his friend, enjoying the warmth that came from being inside. Tubbo’s room was cozy, just enough room for a bed and dresser on one wall and a desk on the other.
Tommy recounted his recent escapades to Tubbo, who laughed so much it in turn made Tommy laugh, until they both had tears in their eyes.
When he was done, Tubbo wiped a tear from his eye and sat up straighter.
“Would you happen to know anything about the weather, Toms? Dad wants to take me out to the market tomorrow, and I’m hoping if it rains I won’t have to go.” Tubbo asked.
Tommy thought about it, reaching into his pocket to fiddle with the rocks in there, “Far as I remember, there’s only supposed to be some clouds rolling in soon, probably won’t rain for a little while, big T.”
“Damn. Well, thanks anyway.” Tubbo said.
At that moment, the sound of a door opening and someone entering sounded throughout the house, and both boys went quiet.
“Looks like that’s my cue,” Tommy said quietly, getting up, “See you later, big man.”
The last thing he saw before he pulled himself back up to the roof was Tubbo waving farewell.