Work Text:
Tommy stifled a laugh, instead turning it into a triumphant, slightly feral grin. He did his best to stay out of sight as the nobleman looked around the marketplace angrily, short of his bag of coins.
The pouch was burning a hole in the pockets of Tommy's oversized coat, but he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty as the noble huffily dug through his robes, pulling out another larger bag. As Tommy suspected, the loose hanging pouch at his side had been merely change for convenience, not his entire wealth.
Tommy scoffed to himself, starting to duck into a maze of alleyways just in case. The coins here would be enough to feed him and the other kids in the orphanage for weeks. Even if it had been everything the noble had, Tommy still would've taken it. Feeding himself and his fellow kids was far more important than the fucking silk sheets the noble had been leering over.
Of course if he was caught, no excuses would save him from severe consequences, possibly a short stint in the city jail. After all, there was a 'fund' set aside to feed the children in the orphanage. They weren't starving. The only reason he could possibly have to steal was for his own entertainment.
Nobody cares that 90% of those "funds" went straight into the pockets of the people running the orphanage. The rest was set aside to buy watered down porridge and thin clothes and blankets for the actual children. Maybe they weren't in danger of dying, but it had been almost a year since Tommy had been fed food that he could chew. So pickpocketing it was.
Satisfaction buzzed through his body as he looked through the coin pouch, trying to estimate how much money was in there. It was mostly smaller coins, only one or two pieces of gold, but there was just enough that he might be able to get something sweet. He'd probably focus more on things like bread and cheese, maybe meat if he found someone that sold it in small quantities. Something like a sweet roll would be the highlight of his and some kids' year, but it wasn't very filling.
He was barely paying attention to where he was going. But as he stepped into a smaller alley he'd only passed before, he heard a visceral snap of a tripwire. His head instantly shot up, and he was ready to bolt. Before he could take a single step, a dispenser fired, and glass shattered at his feet.
As fumes of the splash potion rose all around him, he felt a heavy, numb feeling all over his body. The coins slipped from his fingers, landing on the ground with a clink, and he followed soon after, slumping like a puppet with cut strings.
Though he could barely move through the heaviness in his body, his mind raced. He'd never experienced it before, but he quickly identified the symptoms as slowness. In children and teens, the potion was effective- dangerously so. For some it could cause permanent paralyzation or even death.
His heart raced despite the potion's effects. There was the sharp click of footsteps in the distance, and he tried to crawl away. Bad things happened to kids who disappeared, especially orphan ones. The footsteps stopped, and he looked up, heart sinking as he saw the vibrant robes and shadowed hat that marked the person as a witch.
"Y' know 't's illegal t' use sl'wness 'n kids?" He slurred, hands shaking from fear. The witch snorted. They kicked at the coin purse, making it jingle.
"It looks like you're a little thief . Who's gonna care?"
The witch dug something out of the flowy robes- a potion. They knelt by Tommy, grabbing his hair and pulling his head up. He bit down a whimper, and tried to turn his head away as the witch shoved the potion in his face. He could barely move, so within moments the bottle was being crammed into his mouth, a sickly sweet liquid pouring into his throat.
He coughed and choked, but the only option if he didn't want to be drowned by the liquid was to swallow. Eventually the bottle was empty, and was pulled away enough for him to breathe. He gasped for air, humiliation and rage burning in his chest. He latched onto the emotions instead of feeling the crawling fear that made his throat close up and eyes fill with tears.
He cursed at the witch, calling them every swear under the sun, and some that he came up with on the spot. His voice was slurred from the potion, but his anger seeped into his voice like venom. It didn't seem to affect the witch though. They didn't respond to anything he said as they dragged him deeper into the alley, pocketing his stolen coin purse as they went.
As they pulled his limp body through a door, not bothering to make sure he didn't hit his head, he felt a strange sensation. The second potion was kicking in, and he tried to hold onto anger rather than fear.
His body was tinglingly painfully, like the worst pins and needles he'd ever felt. He felt a horrible vertigo and nausea, and it looked like the world around him was spinning. No, it was growing. Everything around him was slowly getting larger. He was confused until the pieces clicked: it was a shrinking potion. And he knew there was only one reason for a witch to shrink a kid they just kidnapped. Resurrection potions.
“The first child that’s wandered into my alley in weeks, and I can’t even use it for my own potions,” The witch was muttering. Tommy’s spine crawled at the statement. “If more people would just walk through this thrice-damned alley, I wouldn’t have to waste such a valuable ingredient on a resupply box!”
He began to shake as the terror of his situation hit him full force. He was going to die. He was going to be thrown into a brewing potion while still alive so someone else could drink a potion and live twice. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! He couldn't even move with the two different potions coursing through his system.
Another wave of dizziness hit him as he started to shrink even faster. His head pounded sharply and his limbs were heavy and weighed down by slowness, but buzzing with the burning hot energy of the shrinking potion. He whimpered, everything too much to handle. The world went black as he passed out and he sank into the blissful darkness.
***
When Tommy woke up, he felt a horrible mixture of relief and dread. Relief because he was still alive- dread because that meant he'd be awake when he was killed. He could move again at least, and curled up with his knees to his chest, trying not to cry.
He didn't know where he was, except that it was dark. Slight bits of light came from the holes in the ceiling, but it wasn't barely enough to see the outline of his hands. He felt around the small area, but there didn't seem to be an entrance he could escape from. The walls and even the ceiling he could just barely reach seemed solid, or at least too solid for him to use.
Suddenly, there was a voice from outside and he froze, clamping his hand over his mouth, barely daring to breathe. The voice seemed vaguely familiar and he felt another twist of fear.
"Honestly, Phil, I expected it to be much bigger with how much we paid," the familiar voice said. Tommy wracked his brain, trying to remember where he'd heard it before and why it made anxiety curl in his stomach.
"Potion ingredients are expensive, aren't they?" A voice he didn't recognize- Phil probably- responded. Tommy shuddered involuntarily when he remembered that he was included in that now.
"Yeah, but not this expensive," the familiar man complained. "Not for bulk supplies. I'm fully expecting some really rare shit in this box with how much we paid. Or I got scammed."
"Maybe that's why it was late, the witch didn't have some of the rarer shit," Phil offered. "Or you got scammed."
"Well it's not like we can't afford it," the familiar man said with amusement, and suddenly the memory hit Tommy like a ton of bricks.
He'd gotten greedy, trying for a fresh loaf of bread and the coin purse of the guy he'd never seen before on the same day. He hadn't been expecting the man's hand to close sharply around his wrist as he grabbed the pouch. He froze, the grip feeling closer to iron than flesh. The man, who didn't quite look noble but definitely wasn't poor, looked down at him with an expression that was almost curious, like he wondered who had the balls to try and steal from him.
The action had drawn attention towards him, and suddenly everyone at the stall was staring at him, whispering thief, street rat, vagabond under their breath. The baker noticed the poorly hidden loaf, and stood up.
"Hey! That's my bread!" He snapped, and Tommy had winced. "Hand over that thief, sir!"
The not-quite-noble had tilted his head at the demand.
"And he's got a hold of my coin purse," he argued. "What if I'd rather deal with him myself?"
Tommy's stomach had twisted with anxiety then too. Who knew what 'punishment' a strange rich man would want to inflict on his "lessers."
"Well I need my bread back," the baker said hotly. "Unless you plan on paying for the fucking thief?"
"Well it's not like I can't afford it," the man had joked. His grip had loosened during the conversation, and Tommy yanked his hand out of his grasp, abandoning the purse and the bread to sprint in the other direction. There were shouts as he got away, but apparently he wasn't worth chasing since he didn't have anything on him.
Well it's not like I can't afford it. Those words had been spoken in the exact same tone. It had been strange both times, with the man's voice lacking the usual arrogance of rich people. It didn't matter how strange the man was, he was at his mercy now. Whatever he'd wanted to do to Tommy for trying to steal from him, he could… right before he threw him into a resurrection potion.
"I won't lie, Phil, I'm excited to open this thing. What if there's ingredients I've never even seen before? I'll experiment to my heart's desire."
"Wait until we get home at least mate, Jesus fuck!" The older man laughed.
Tommy sobbed silently in his container as they traveled. He didn't want to be experimented on. He didn't want to be killed for a fucking potion. He was desperately hoping whatever little box he'd been shoved into would just get overlooked and he would actually survive this.
Far too soon, he heard the sounds of doors opening. His breathing hitched as the box he was in shifted, sliding slightly. There was a quiet thud as whatever he was carried in was set down.
Suddenly, more light was flooding in through the holes, and the outside voices were much less muffled. He could see the shapes of people… far, far more massive than he'd expected… outside the box. He shrank back, biting down on his hand to keep from crying out.
"Oh, you're back," a new voice said. He didn't see a third shape join the towering figures he could just barely see, but he could tell Phil and the weird rich guy turned to face him.
"Yep! A day late, but the witch had the box done this time." Weird guy said.
"That's smaller than I expected," the new man said. His voice was a dry monotone that had Tommy expecting a sarcastic quip at any second.
"That's what I thought! There's either something fucking priceless in here or…"
"Or you got scammed," the other finished. "Haha, L, loser."
"What the fuck? I haven't been scammed yet. Here, come look with us."
"Fine, only because Phil's there."
"You're such a dick, Techno," weird guy said.
"Nerd," the man, Techno replied.
"Boys come on," Phil laughed. "Let's just look at the potions shit."
Any amusement Tommy had from the banter drained away. He almost yelped as he saw the shadow of hands moving close to his box. He bit down harder on his hand to keep from making a sound, and winced at the taste of blood.
"Hm, there's netherwart, some blaze powder, I think this box is spider eyes. Oh, the glistering melon's pretty rare, but there's just the one slice," the weird guy started. He didn't sound very interested, but he was just listing off pretty standard ingredients. Of course if he was rich, even the rare stuff might not be that impressive.
"Ghast tear," Techno remarked.
"Really? Hm just the one again. It's not a bad haul, but I'm still not seeing anything worth that much."
"How about these little boxes?" Phil asked.
There was a sudden tap on the top of his box, and Tommy strangled his scream. He could barely breathe through his panic.
"Hm? Oh it looks like those have live ingredients. Those are pretty unusual, but there's not much besides insects that you can use in potions."
Tommy flinched as a hand came down, but it grabbed the box next to him.
"Holy shit. These are gold plated beetles ."
"What? I thought those were only found in the Badlands!" Phil said.
"They must have a farm or something," weird dude muttered. "I think I see why these are so expensive now."
"I didn't even know they could be used in potions," Techno said- he sounded more thoughtful than sarcastic now.
"I've heard of it, but I've got no clue what- ah! Found a guidebook. This probably has recipes for some of the more unusual potions. You don't want to waste ingredients as rare as this."
"Lemme see that," Techno said. There was a shuffle of paper, and one of the shadows moved back slightly.
"Let's see what's in this one," the weird guy said. The hands moved, and Tommy's heart leaped into his throat as they blocked out the light. His box shifted, and he didn't bother to muffle his whimper as he slid forward.
The top of the box was peeled off, and he lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the burst of light. His eyes adjusted, and he stared up up and up at his doom, shaking uncontrollably.
"What the fuck?" The weird guy said. Tommy flinched, eyes wide. He remembered that the man had been tall when he tried to snatch his purse. But that was nothing compared to how he towered over him now. Tommy had to crane his neck all the way back to see his face. A hand moved in the corner of his vision, and he gasped, jolting backwards. The hand didn't touch him, but the sheer size of it made his heart flutter with terror.
The man's brown eyes bore into him intensely, and Tommy couldn't make himself look away.
All three of them were looking directly at him. It was silent now, and the anticipation was horrible.
"Seriously, what the fuck," the weird one said again. Anger laced his voice, and Tommy's stomach twisted in fear.
"Here. Look." Techno walked closer, and oh he was intimidating now that Tommy could see how massive he was. He shoved a sheath of paper into the weird guy's face, and Tommy watched in trepidation as he read.
"Resurrection potion…"
Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. The man's face would light up as he realized what he had. He didn't want to see a malicious smile, he didn't want this to be happening at all. He just wanted to wake up in his shitty bed at the orphanage and never go down another dark alley again.
Something brushed his shoulder and he let out a shriek, eyes flying open. There were fingers reaching out, inches-or maybe millimeters now- away from him. They were massive , each one as tall as he was. He scrambled back until he hit the side of the box.
The fingers brushed up against him again, and this time there was nowhere to go. They wrapped behind him, pulling him out of the corner he was pressed into. His stomach dropped as he was lifted, and he kicked. The fingers wrapped tighter around him, and he couldn't get loose no matter how much he squirmed.
"Shh, shh, it's ok," the man said, but the words refused to sink in. "You're ok, I promise, I'm not going to hurt you."
The fingers eventually loosened, and he looked around frantically. He was sitting in the man's hand. He darted forwards, but stopped as he reached the edge. Fuck, that was a very long fall.
"It's ok," the man said again, and Tommy looked up at him fearfully. His other hand came up, and Tommy tensed, prepared to be poked at or pinned down or crushed in a fist. The man didn't touch him again, though, simply putting his hands together, turning the space Tommy sat into a cupped shape.
"Alright. Um, hello. My name is Wilbur," he said. The other two, Phil and Techno were peering over his shoulders.
"Hang on," Wilbur said. "I remember you."
Tommy felt his heart drop. He froze, staring at his hands and waiting.
"You're the little shit that tried to pickpocket me the other day," he finished. Tommy flinched, but the anger he expected wasn't there. There was just… amusement? Unless he was just amused by how he would torment Tommy for the slight.
Even if he wasn't that cruel, he had to at least be annoyed, or he would be after talking to Tommy. Everyone got annoyed with him eventually. And people, especially adults, tended to hit when they were pissed at him. Tommy was very nervous to see what even a half-hearted smack would do to him at this size.
"S-sorry I'm s-" Tommy choked on the words.
"Woah, woah, it's ok," Wilbur soothed. "I'm not mad. I was never mad."
Bullshit. Tommy looked at him warily, and spoke with a shaky voice.
"I d-don't believe you. I stole," he said, hardly believing he was reminding the towering man of this while he sat easily squishable in his palm. Better to get it over with now than go through whatever fucking mind games this bastard wanted to play.
"You only tried to steal," Wilbur pointed out, "and you looked like you needed it."
Tommy stared at him, the words absolutely baffling. Of course he needed it, but it was Wilbur's. He was supposed to be angry.
"If you'd managed to snatch my whole pouch, I would've been a bit annoyed, but never mad enough to hurt you. You're just a kid."
Tommy didn't register the burning behind his eyes until his vision was too blurry to see. By then it was too late, and tears started dripping down his face. What the fuck. What the fuck??? People didn't think like that. He and the other orphan kids were a drain on society. Nobody cared about them, nobody cared about him, and why should they when he did stuff like steal? It didn't matter that he was a kid, not in the face of all that.
"Oh fuck he's crying. Phil, Phil what do I do?" Wilbur was saying frantically. Tommy looked up in confusion, blinking the tears from his eyes.
"I don't fucking know, mate, just talk to him?"
"I'm… gonna go make hot chocolate," Techno muttered awkwardly before retreating into the next room.
The hands beneath Tommy shifted, and he felt another spike of fear. Wilbur lifted him up, moving him closer to his face. Tommy leaned back a little, adjusting to the way the man's face filled his entire vision.
"I uh… never got your name, kid," he said. Tommy's eyes flicked briefly down to his mouth with a shudder as he spoke- god, Wilbur's mouth was as big as he was- then he registered the words.
"T-Tommy," he stammered. Wilbur leaned in a little closer, smiling softly. The teen fought the urge to scoot backwards.
"Hi, Tommy. I'm really sorry if we scared you. Um… you don't have to cry."
Tommy stared at him. Where had all the smooth charm from the market gone?
"Wil, come on, mate," Phil said, apparently equally as unimpressed. "I've seen you talk people into selling their best shit for half the price."
"What? I'm not good with kids!" Wilbur hissed. "Here, you do it."
And suddenly Tommy was thrust towards Phil. The older man put his hands out on instinct, and before Tommy could protest, the hands below him tilted. He started sliding off, and he scrabbled for purchase. He couldn't get a grip on anything, and he freefell for just a moment before landing in a new pair of hands.
Phil's hands were smaller and a little rougher than Wilbur's. Phil didn't have the same calluses on his fingertips, but the rest of his hand was much less soft.
Tommy stared intently at the different pair of hands, trying very hard not to break down. He could hear Wilbur and Phil talking above him, but couldn't make out what they were saying through the slowly fading panic.
Jesus, he was shaking again too. Breathe, why couldn't he just breathe? They hadn't actually hurt him… and they… they probably wouldn't. Right? Wilbur said he wouldn't, but then he'd also said he was sorry for scaring him right before doing something terrifying.
"Hot chocolate here," the monotone voice cut through his panic, and he looked up. Techno was across the room, holding two mugs.
"Just two?"
"Make your own. One's for me, one's for the kid… speaking of the kid, is he shaking ?" Techno asked, setting the mugs down.
Phil lifted him up, much less smoothly than Wilbur had, and he fumbled for balance. Techno peered at him, thankfully not getting too close. Tommy met his eyes, unable to stop his trembling. Techno didn't seem annoyed, he just raised his eyebrows.
"Heh?? How'd you manage to traumatize the traumatized kid even more?" He griped, to Tommy's surprise. "I was gone for like five minutes!"
"You left!"
"You two are supposed to be the ones with social skills! Here, just set him down."
For what seemed like the hundredth time, Tommy was suddenly moved. Luckily, Phil didn't just open his hands and drop Tommy on the table, but it still wasn't a smooth landing. He stood up and backed away warily from the edge of the table.
He backed into something warm and yelped, spinning to face whatever it was. His mouth went dry as he realized it was a mug. It was just a mug, just a stupid cup, but it towered above him, twice his height.
It felt like the stupidest thing to cry over, but that mug was his breaking point. He burst into sobs, again, feeling hot shame burn his face. It was just too much. Everything was so big and frightening. He thought he was going to die, be killed in a terrible way. He still could be, if they changed their minds. He just wanted to go home.
"Shit. Alright let's just…" there was a loud scraping sound as the mug was moved away from him.
"Kid-" Techno started, before Wilbur interrupted.
"Tommy, his name is Tommy."
"Ok. Tommy. You should sit down, you look like you're about to pass out."
Tommy glanced up at the giant, just as quickly looking away. He looked even more massive from down here. He followed Techno's directions, though, shakily sitting down on the table.
"Alright, good," Techno said, sounding a little awkward. "Uh, here."
Something was draped behind him, and he looked to see a massive handkerchief, Techno's hand hovering from where he'd dropped it.
"It's, uh, clean," the man said.
Tommy cautiously grabbed the fabric, half expecting to be snapped at. When nobody protested, he wrapped it around himself. It was heavier than he expected. The weight of the fabric felt safe, and some of his panic slipped away.
"Have you ever had hot chocolate before?" Techno asked. Tommy… didn't actually know what that was. He'd heard Techno saying he was making hot chocolate, but he had no idea what it was. It probably had to be a drink, based on the mugs. He shook his head.
"I didn't think so. I thought pure hot chocolate might be a little too rich for you, so I watered one of them down," Techno explained. Tommy gripped the handkerchief tighter and nodded, although he didn't really understand what the man was saying.
Tommy could tell the three men were moving above him, but he kept his eyes fixed on his shoes. He half listened to the conversation, letting the words rush over his head.
"Where'd you even find a cup that small?" Wilbur was asking.
"What is it?" Phil asked with a laugh.
"Look, guys, I don't actually remember. It's either a shot glass or a stolen communion cup."
"Since when are you religious?!" Wilbur shrieked past his laughter.
"I'm not. Hence the stolen part."
Tommy smiled a little, even though he wasn't sure what they were laughing about. Their laughter was contagious, and the banter helped to ease his nerves. If he didn't feel so drained from the constant rush of terror he'd been feeling for hours, he might try to join in.
"Here you go, kid," Techno said. Something was placed in front of him, and he looked up. It was a cup, closer to the size of a bucket or a barrel. It was about halfway full of a light brown liquid. He squinted suspiciously at it, before he caught a whiff.
It smelled sweet, delicious, and just vaguely familiar. He thought he might have smelled something similar before in the richer parts of the market, the ones even he didn't dare steal from. There was no way he'd ever tasted whatever it was.
Cautiously, he grabbed the sides of the cup with both hands. He tilted the massive cup towards him slowly, managing to take a sip without spilling the drink all over him.
Instantly, his mouth was full of warmth and a flavor so sugary sweet it almost hurt. He swallowed, and the warmth went all the way down his throat, to his stomach, radiating out from there. He looked at the cup again, mouth agape.
"What the fuck?" He whispered. Wilbur snorted at his whispered comment, and he jumped. He automatically shot a glare towards the man, though it fell once he looked over, remembering how easily the other could crush him. Wilbur made a small noise, but he ignored it.
Instead he turned his focus back to the hot chocolate, and took another sip. The rich, sweet flavour burst into his mouth again, and the warmth returned. So it really was the drink. He’d never had chocolate, but apparently the “hot” part was literal.
Suddenly afraid that his three- captors? rescuers?- would realize it was a mistake, that they didn’t mean to give such high quality food to a street kid, Tommy started to guzzle down the drink.
“Jeez, kid, careful,” Technoblade said.
“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Wilbur fretted, and Tommy jumped when the man’s hand settled behind him. He set down the cup, not wanting to make him angry. There was a short pause, and Wilbur spoke again, quieter this time.
“You can finish it if you want,” he said, and Tommy hesitated. Wilbur continued explaining, and his calm tone put him a bit more at ease. “I was just trying to get you to slow down, not stop drinking. If you have too much sugar too quickly, you might make yourself throw up.”
Tommy cautiously lifted the cup again. When nobody protested, he started taking small sips, realizing it was a lot nicer when he got to savor the sweet drink. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to savor food rather than choke down something tasteless or scarf down decent food as quickly as possible. It was… good. He felt good.
Despite the nervousness still lurking in the back of his mind, he found himself growing sleepy. The crash from the insane adrenaline high he’d been riding, the heaviness in his limbs that still lingered from the slowness potion. They combined with the sensation of a full stomach he rarely felt and the warmth slowly spreading from his chest out to his limbs. His eyes kept drooping, closing without his permission before he pried them open again.
He hadn’t quite finished his drink when his eyes closed again and he couldn’t quite find the energy to open them. He felt slightly boneless, and there was the sensation of falling. He didn’t smack against the hard ground instead landing against something soft that radiated warmth. It was enough to keep him from jolting back up, and he let himself drift, curling into the heat with a soft sigh.
***
None of them dared speak as the child, Tommy, slowly started to nod off. He could barely keep his eyes open, yet each time he was about to fall asleep, he seemed to force himself awake. Finally, he closed his eyes and didn’t open them. He started listing to one side, and Wilbur reacted without thinking, not wanting him to hit the hard table and wake up.
He caught the tiny boy against his hand, a little coo leaving his lips as the child nuzzled into the warmth. He glanced at his family, seeing the same softness he felt reflected on their faces.
“We’re keeping him,” Wilbur whispered, careful not to wake him.
Phil and Techno didn’t respond, but they were looking at Tommy with equal parts care and determination. Wilbur knew they felt the same way about the tiny boy who’d stumbled into their lives.
Tommy was one of theirs now; they would protect him.