Chapter Text
The stadium was packed with people from all over, from children tugging on their parent’s arms, to adults who were placing bets on the finishing positions. Today would decide who’d win the Platinum Cup, the cameras kept going back, showing the cup in all its glory, resting on the podium while it waited for the winner.
This race had Tommy on the edge of his seat throughout.
His eyes never left the screen, watching carefully as the cars sped around the bends, names whizzing by in his head when one racer took over the other. Tommy squeezed the pillow resting on his lap, tugging at it when the familiar pink Chevrolet Corvette was passed by the green Ferrari.
“Don’t let him pass you Blade!” Tommy calls out, the pillow most likely on the verge of being torn apart by the eleven-year-old hands.
Tommy could’ve sworn the man behind the wheel heard him, the pink Corvette taking the next corner sharply to try and get ahead of the Ferrari, though he didn’t have much luck, still falling behind by a few meters.
Tommy curses. “Fucking Dream.”
He almost gave up hope, already imagining the smug face Dream always had while he held up the cup, his fans cheering his name while Blaze and Hypnos celebrated with him, he wouldn’t be surprised if Blaze broke something again by jumping on Dream’s back.
However, Tommy blinks, and the next thing he knows the yellow Chevrolet Corvette is gaining, zig-zagging through the competition and soon passing the pink Corvette until he’s on Dream’s tail. Tommy holds his breath. There are a few minutes where the yellow Corvette struggles to cut in front of the Ferrari, even when he manages to get beside Dream there’s a moment where either of them could pull in front. The yellow Corvette takes the lead, then the Ferrari does, the yellow Corvette, the Ferrari, Tommy almost looks away, almost, until…
The yellow Corvette breaks free.
“Yes!” Tommy jumps up, almost smacking his head off the top of the bunk bed. “Go on Wilbur Soot! You’ve got this!”
The pillow now lay forgotten on the floor, all focus was on the yellow Corvette as it takes the lead, Tommy barely registers the announcers shouting over the microphones, praising Wilbur for his brilliant comeback from seventh to first. With that, the standings continued to hold through the final round, Wilbur Soot in first, Dream in second, the Blade in third, and Hypnos and Blaze neck and neck for fourth and fifth. Tommy would later see what the other racers came in, curious to know who got last place.
Right now, Tommy was still cheering, fist-bumping the air and almost forgetting about the other kids in the building, it was a surprise someone hadn’t come knocking on the door to tell him to quieten down. Though they knew Tommy could be rowdier than him getting excited over a race, they also knew not to disturb him while the Platinum Cup was on, they’d let him watch the races and he’d behave for a few days after, the most you’d get from him was a long discussion about what happened and who won.
That didn’t stop a pillow from flying across the room, hitting Tommy in the head and falling alongside his pillow with a soft thud.
“We get it, Soot is awesome. Now go to bed.”
Tommy quickly turns to look at Tubbo, his eyebrows narrowing. “You can’t expect me to go to bed after that!”
“I can if you still want that can of coke tomorrow.” Tubbo raises a brow, daring his friend to argue with him.
“You owe me either way, Dream lost remember.” Tommy grabs one of the pillows, flinging it at Tubbo who dodged out of the way with ease. “You said he would win, I said one of the twins would.”
“How could I forget, it’s not like it happened a few minutes ago.” Tubbo rolls his eyes. “Besides, I said that cause I knew it would annoy you. I wanted Blaze to win.”
“Blaze!?” Tommy picks up his pillow before sitting back down on his bed. “Since when have you been a Sapnap fan?”
“Since he did that cool spin to turn.” Tubbo says, the bed squeaks from above, signalling that he was moving around.
“The Blade can do that with his eyes closed.” Tommy mumbles, grabbing the remote and changing the channel over.
“Yeah, but Blaze did it better.” Tubbo pops out from above, his head along with his hair hanging upside down while his face begins to redden from the blood rushing upwards. “Now give me back my pillow, this one has a pink stain on it.”
Tommy groans, reaching up so he could swap. “Stupid hair dye.”
Tommy’s hair was still a mix of blonde and pink, the semi-permanent dye beginning to fade, along with the hopes of following in the Technoblade’s footsteps.
“I thought you liked the pink?” Tubbo asks, sitting up once he had his pillow, his legs dangling from the top bunk, swinging back and forth in front of Tommy’s face.
“It’s cool when the Blade does it.” Tommy huffs, pushing his legs away so he can see the tv. “But I wanna be like him.”
The channel picked was showing reruns again, old races from years ago playing as though they were showing live for the first time again. Tommy’s eyes lit up, eyes glued on the black Porsche driving in, the number forty-two could be seen on the side in bold white font with white wings spread to the side of it. The camera zooms in on the driver once his door opens, he takes off his helmet, blonde strands of hair that hadn’t been tied back yet falling against his shoulders, some getting in his eyes. The man blows it out of his face before turning and widely smiling at the crowd to the right side of him.
“And here we have number 42, Phil Watson! Or as we all know and love him as, the Angel of Death!”
The crowd is in an uproar of screams and cheers, chanting the name over and over again, waving flags and other merchandise with the Angels logo printed onto it. Tommy couldn’t say he wasn't the same, he was wearing an old t-shirt he had gotten for a birthday that had been and gone, the number large across the back of the shirt while wings were printed on the front, just about where the wearer's heart would be. Tubbo thought it was cringe. Tommy told him to shut up.
Tommy leaned forward, and when he did it felt like he was there, in the crowd, watching Phil scan the millions of faces until his gaze focused on Tommy. He smiles, waving at him while the crowd screams louder and louder. This, this was everything he had ever dreamed of.
“He doesn’t even race anymore.” Tubbo cuts in and the immersion is gone, what’s left was just the Angel waving at the camera until he had to move on for an interview.
“It doesn’t matter!” Tommy falls back onto the bed, his arms spread across the mattress. “I’m telling you Tubs, when I’m older I’ll be just like him! …I’ll be just like the Angel of Death.”
“Not to burst your bubble, but you don’t even know how to drive.” Tubbo says, not trying to crush Tommy’s dreams right there and then, but rather, reminding him of the steps he’d need to take to get it.
“It’s driving, not flying a plane.” Tommy smoothly responds, as though he had this all thought out for the longest time. ”How hard can it be?”
_____
Turns out, learning to drive wasn’t hard.
Learning the skills for racing, however, it took Tommy five years to accomplish that feat.
Tommy snuck out in the dead of night, dragging Tubbo along to street races and scoping out the drivers before picking one worthy enough for his cheers. Since the first race he went to, the Nissan GT-R caught his attention.
It wasn’t because the driver in the car won all the time, in fact, he lost the first race Tommy watched him in, and the next, only managing to win the third because of a disqualification. No, Tommy cheered on the mixed green and purple Nissan because of the tricks Sam pulled out.
There were too many for Tommy to count, but from the moment he saw the car being nudged off course, only for Sam to carry on in that direction backwards, driving like that until it was safe enough for him to swerve back around, Tommy had to be taught by him.
It had taken a year of non-stop begging before Sam agreed to teach him, and it was only after he told Tommy that teaching a newly twelve-year-old how to drive was highly illegal. Tommy snapped back that being a part of street races was also highly illegal. Sam couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on his face.
Now at seventeen, Tommy knew how to drift around corners with enough momentum that he could overtake the competition, allowing him to cross the finish line first. He knew how to trick other drivers into thinking he would go left, and then easily swerve to the right, missing the curb by the skin of his teeth. That’s exactly what he did, his car tilting up slightly before hitting the ground again.
“Tommy, don’t make me bench you again.”
Tommy rolls his eyes. “Come on Sam, how else was I supposed to keep my lead?”
He took a second to glance down at the phone, it was connected to a stand so Tommy could keep in touch with Sam in case of emergencies or in most instances, for Sam to nag him about being reckless behind the wheel.
“You can fall behind you know, it’s not the end of the world.” Sam goes quiet, and then he’s talking again. “Besides, you almost sent Ranboo off the road with that.”
“Ranboo will be fine.” Tommy focuses back on the road, there's a car coming up on his left, a Jaguar F Type, green. Tubbo was going to kick his ass if he didn’t apologise to Ranboo later.
“You can’t keep saying he’ll be fine. One day you’re going to cause an accident with those stunts you keep pulling.” Sam tries to sound angry about the situation, but it doesn't do so much.
“Yeah Sam, sorry can’t hear you. You’re breaking up.” Tommy says, already leaning towards the phone.
“Tommy, don’t you dare-”
Tommy reaches forward, ending the call with the press of a button.
He sighs, his hand automatically moving towards the radio, dialling up the volume to max, the sweet sound of Queen filling his ears.
Tommy falls back against the seat, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Let’s win this.”
The Jaguar was right behind him now, going left and right, trying to find an opening. Tommy knew Tubbo, he knew once he slipped he’d be in there, getting through the spot Tommy left open without delay, that’s why Tommy made it his goal to block him from getting through. A horn is pressed, and Tommy can’t hold back his laugh at the tune blaring out over Freddie Mercury’s voice. Yep, Tubbo was definitely beating his ass when they finished.
Maybe with his winnings he could run away, Mexico sounded like a great place to get away, and the best part, no Tubbo to strangle him and banish him to the shit couch. Sam needed to get rid of that.
Tommy speeds down the road, his hair blowing all over the place thanks to the rolled-down window. Voices are shouting, and he can vaguely make out his name being yelled, mixed in with the others. The people-watching from the pavements blur by, gone in a split second, Tommy knows they’ll be a hell of a lot more waiting at the finish line, one holding a black and white checkered flag that would be waved once someone crossed the line.
If Tommy thinks hard enough, he can picture himself on a track in a stadium, listening to the crowd cheer his name, the lights shining down on the red and white paintwork. He already knew his Chevrolet Camaro would look great on camera, Clemintine was the only car for him, she’s been here since the beginning, well, in his mind she was the only car, he would never again talk about the Cadillac incident.
Tommy without Clementine was like a sandwich without bread, like a book without pages, the whole situation was just plain strange. This was it for him, he could daydream about large stadiums and adoring crowds, medals and trophies. But at the end of the day, this was it, the dream had to end somewhere, and if that meant Tommy was still racing despite it being in a sketchy part of the city, only to gain respect and more money in his pocket, he’d take it.
He grins, this is everything he needs in life.
And then, there’s something on the road.
Tommy doesn’t catch what it is, all he knows is that there’s another corner and then a straight finish till the end, he wasn’t prepared to turn as early as he did to avoid hitting whatever was on the road. His car screeches, smoke coming from his tires while he drifts around the corner, and Tommy clenches his teeth waiting to see the outcome. He jerks the wheel, and he nearly thinks he’s about to spin out.
However, Tommy manages, his car straightening out after those agonising minutes of drifting to get him back into position. He’s not lucky enough to keep Tubbo from passing him, but the race was close, Tommy nearly scraping first, only a few seconds off. He’s lucky to come out of the race with nothing but a bruised ego, a later reaction, and he might have been having a trip over to the hospital.
Tommy lets out a breath of relief, his body losing the adrenaline, causing him to fall back against his seat once again. He only moves to switch off the radio, left in near silence, if it wasn’t for the voices he could hear outside the car. Tommy makes out someone asking what happened, another trying to figure out what was on the road, the voices all mush together in his head after a while, it's enough for him to sit up.
Sam is at his side by the time he decides to get out of the car. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Tommy mumbles, swatting Sam’s hands away from checking his face for injuries. “I’m fine! What the fuck was that anyway?”
“Cat got on the track again, ran off, ran you came speeding round the bend.” Sam explains, his arm dropping when he realised everything was fine.
“This is why I hate cats.” Tommy glares over at the road, as though the cat was still there, mocking him. “They scratch you for no reason, and then try to get hit by a car. Next thing you know he’ll be suing me!”
Sam laughs. “Had bad run-ins with cats before, have you?”
Tommy grumbles, turning around and crossing his arms. He doesn’t answer the question, he doesn’t need to, soon enough, Tubbo can be seen speed-walking over, Ranboo close behind in a sort of half walk, half jog.
“Before you start, you only won because of a stupid cat-” Tubbo interrupts, punching Tommy in the arm. “Ow! What the fuck Tubbo!”
“You almost sent Ranboo off the road you dick.” Tubbo says calmly, clenching and unclenching his hand to make sure his knuckles were okay. “And you kept blocking me.”
“Would you rather me let you both through?” Tommy asks, he looks offended when Tubbo seems like he’s considering the idea.
Ranboo raises a hand. “I honestly don’t mind.”
“Yes, you do.” Tubbo pats Ranboo’s shoulder, not taking his eyes off Tommy. “Now apologise.”
“For what? I’m the one who almost died.” Tommy says, pushing his thumb towards his chest. “Where’s my sympathy?”
“You’ll get it when you apologise.” Tubbo smiles, Tommy likes the sound of the Mexico plan the more he thinks about it.
“...Fine.” Tommy drags out, glancing over at Ranboo. “I’m sorry for almost giving you an awesome death.”
“Apology accepted.” Ranboo nods.
“Great, now me and Ran are gonna get some mint ice cream.” Tubbo claps his hands together while turning away.
Now Tommy definitely was offended. “What!?”
“Actually, I’m getting vanilla.” Ranboo says, following Tubbo, they didn’t get far since Tommy runs to jump in front of them.
“What happened to my sympathy?” Tommy asks, holding out his arms.
Tubbo shrugs. “You look fine to me. ”
“You can’t still be mad at me, right?” Tubbo raises a brow, Tommy swallows. “Please don’t make me sleep on the couch.”
“Depends on how I feel when I get back big man.” Tubbo smirks, walking off with a wave of his hand, leaving Tommy terrified of his outcome, he just hopes his back would be alright tomorrow.
Ranboo is nice enough to look sorry for him. “I’ll try and calm him down before we get back.” He gives Tommy two thumbs up before jogging to catch up to Tubbo again.
Tommy watches them go, leaning against his car with a small huff. He didn’t mean to nearly knock Ranboo off the road, if he did he would’ve been off the road, no question about it. He swears Tubbo just loves to torment him, Tommy would get his own back, that was a promise, Tubbo didn’t know that he knew where he hid his snacks in the apartment.
He stays in the street, talking to whoever comes up congratulating him on second place. Someone keeps going on about how he should’ve won, and Tommy shrugs, there was no use crying over it, besides, Tubbo beat him, if anyone deserved first place, it was the guy who worked on his own car.
Sometimes Tommy blocked his ears when Sam, Tubbo and Ranboo started talking about car parts and anything to do with mechanics. Tommy loves racing, but he didn’t have a clue how to fix his car if it broke down. The most he could do was change a tire, anything else he left in Sam’s capable hands, the car was his before he gave it to Tommy.
He's still there when the last car, that isn’t either his or Sam’s, drives off, and he watches it go until he can no longer see it. Then, he tilts his head back, looking up at the sky.
“Are you heading back to the apartment with me?”
Tommy can hear Sam messing with his keys beside him, he almost nods, ready to head back and pray Tubbo wasn’t there before them, maybe he would get some sleep and he’d get pity points, enough that he wouldn’t get dragged onto the floor. He thinks about it, but then he shakes his head.
“I think I’ll stay here for a while longer, the view is nice.” Tommy looks down at Sam. “I’ll make sure I’m back before the sun's up.”
“Make sure you stick to the speed limit if you drive home.” Sam nudges Tommy’s shoulder when he rolls his eyes. “I mean it. If not, remember to lock up if you leave Clem in the garage.”
“Of course I’ll remember. I don’t want Clemintine getting stolen by some ruffian who doesn’t know how to treat her.” Tommy pats the hood of the car gently, he earns a snort from Sam who shakes his head.
“You’re a strange kid.” Sam reaches out, messing up Tommy’s hair. “Be safe alright?”
Tommy smacks his hand away with a yell. “Yeah, yeah, don’t have a heart attack and crash.”
“Love you too Tommy!” Sam calls out, he waves and then slides into his car, the engine loud in the once quiet street while he pulls away, Tommy watching him go, but not waiting until he’s out of sight to look away.
“It’s just you and me now Clem.” He mumbles, lying back against the hood of his car, starting back up at the stars.
Tommy wondered if he'd be able to see the stars clearly at a stadium with all the lights, he never had the chance to find out, only being able to watch races from the small TVs the orphanage had, later upgrading once seeing the size of the one Sam had at his apartment. The first time he was able to watch a race on that TV, Tommy had sat there and watched rerun after rerun until Sam forced him to sleep.
He guessed he was lucky enough that he ran into Sam, well, he was lucky enough that Sam took a chance on three kids. After all, it was only supposed to be him and Tubbo, but then Ranboo had caught on. Back then, he had been at the orphanage for a few months, he never did tell them what happened to his parents, but he was always so nosy about where he and Tubbo snuck off to.
He must have gotten fed up one day and followed them. One minute Sam was teaching him and Tubbo how to drive, their fifth lesson since starting, the next, he was trying to stop Tommy from jumping on Ranboo so he wouldn’t run off and snitch on them. He didn’t, and Tommy couldn’t recall if that’s when he started seeing him in a different light, or merely left him alone so he wouldn’t change his mind and blab his secrets to everyone.
Now, Ranboo was his friend, completely different to Tubbo in every sense of the word, honestly, he was the sanest out of the two of them, which is why they heard Sam joke about Ranboo being his favourite when he caught Tubbo and Tommy’s shoulders one time, reaching up to try and grab the keys Sam had put up on purpose so the two wouldn’t go out on a joy ride.
Still, it would be amazing to find out if he could see the stars clearly, but that was never going to happen. Tickets to go see a race were too expensive, and he couldn’t ask Sam to get him some, not after he let them stay with him whenever they wanted, and let them keep three of the cars he was planning on selling.
Yes, Tommy would love to see the stars there, and yes, he’d kill just to be able to drive at a stadium, feel the adrenaline coursing through his body and listen to the crowd go wild for him, for the kid who had a dream ever since he saw racing on the TV. But in reality, who would ever give poor little Tommy a chance?
“You did well out there.”
Tommy screams, tripping over his own feet while trying to see where the voice came from. Instead, he falls off the side of the car onto his side, a small groan leaving his lips as he rolls over onto his back. “Ow.”
“Sorry about that.” Tommy sees the hand first, reaching out for him to grab whenever he wants. It takes him a second to think about looking up at the owner of the limb, his eyes trailing up the arm until he meets blue eyes on a friendly face. The man is smiling down at him sheepishly. “Thought you heard me walking up.”
Tommy can only stare. His hair is shorter now, and he catches the slight bags under his eyes while he sits there with his mouth opening and closing. There’s a cane in the man’s free hand, black with a curved handle, with gold detailing further down. He’s leaning his weight onto it while he watches Tommy. God, he looks so different, yet, so familiar. But Tommy would know him even if was to walk up to him bald and with a long beard.
This was the Angel of Death. This was Phil Watson himself.
“You alright mate?”
Tommy snaps out of it, quickly nodding and grabbing the hand offered to him. “Yeah, yeah I’m good, I’m… You’re the Angel of Death.”
“Glad I’ve not been totally forgotten yet.” Phil laughs, pulling Tommy up with a surprising amount of strength. “You’ll catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that.”
Tommy hadn't realised he was still standing looking like a goldfish. “Forgotten? You’re a legend! A racing God! A- Wait, why are you here?”
To Phil’s credit, he allowed Tommy to rant. He stood by with a smile, almost like he was used to this, though he would’ve been, Tommy wasn’t the only Angel of Death fan in the world, and he wouldn’t be the last. “I heard about a street race that was going on down here, thought I’d give it a watch.”
Tommy still couldn’t believe he was talking to Phil Watson. He blinks a few times, even going as far as to pinch himself on the arm, it stings. This wasn’t a dream. Tubbo really must have killed him, this was his heaven, Tommy always knew if he shared that chocolate with Ranboo he’d see the pearly gates once his time had come.
“No I mean, why are you here, in this city?” Tommy asks.
Phil hums. “Why not? My son wants to visit every place he can get to, this was on the list. I’m just dragged along.”
Tommy knew he was talking about Wilbur with that, the interview he had a few weeks ago stuck out in Tommy’s mind, Wilbur talked about wanting to visit as many places as he could before the next racing season, he was certain he’d be able to fit in a couple until then.
“It’s a good job I came down, that drift you did back there was impressive.”
It was then that everything fully clicked in Tommy’s mind, why Phil’s first words to him were, you did well out there, and how he said he came down to watch the street race he heard about.
Phil Watson had seen his drift, Phil Watson had watched him race.
“You… You thought it was impressive?” Tommy can hardly get the words out of his throat, he’s still trying to comprehend that his idol had seen him race. He didn’t even win the race, all because of a cat of all things.
“Definitely, I couldn’t drift that well when I was your age.” Phil pauses, his eyebrows narrowing. “How old are you exactly?”
Tommy swallows. “Seventeen.”
“Jesus Christ.” Phil mumbles, and Tommy thinks he’ll clock on that to accomplish what he did, he would’ve had to have learnt how to drive young. “I couldn’t even pull off a drift half that good at nineteen!”
Phil is smiling again, looking at Tommy like someone told him he had won the lottery, no, that wasn’t it. Phil was looking at Tommy with something much deeper than that, once bright blue eyes now dulled after everything he had been through, watching Tommy like he was the missing piece to a puzzle he had been searching for.
“You managed to pull off something I’ve seen my sons still struggle with.” Phil rests a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Kid, you have potential.”
“Potential?” Tommy asks, he had to make sure he was hearing him right, and not something he was making up in his mind instead.
“To go big.” Phil answers. He reassuringly squeezes Tommy’s shoulder, and at that moment, Tommy could’ve sworn he saw something like a spark in the man's eyes. “You might have what it takes to do this professionally.”
For a moment, Tommy can’t breathe. He really had what it takes? Sure, he always dreamed of making it big one day, but that’s all it was, a dream that was too far away for him to grab. Now, however, it was so close, enough that he could finally touch what he wanted with enough effort put into it.
He wishes the others were here to ground him, he never thought how nerve-racking meeting your idol was, he also didn’t know how surreal having the very same idol telling you that the dream you had begun to give up was possible.
Tommy takes a shaky breath, his heart hammering in his chest. Who was he to question the Angel of Death himself? Who stood right there, telling him how he was enough, that he could make it big. His eyes stung, but the smile on his face was almost as bright as the sun.
“Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s not every day you see raw talent on the street.” Phil chuckles, his hand lifting from Tommy’s shoulder and instead of returning to his side, he holds it out. “I didn’t even catch your name.”
“Tommy.” Tommy reaches out, clasping his hand with Phil’s for a firm handshake. There’s something that’s made with this handshake, written in the very stars Tommy had been watching just a few moments ago, there to stay for decades to come. This was the start of something special, the start of a legend that would blow the racing community away.
It starts right here, right now.
“TommyInnit.”