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Tommy wasn’t a part of SBI. From the very beginning, that had been made clear to him. He was a part of their family— that was never in question, he was assured constantly— but he was not part of SBI or its operations.
At first, Tommy was fine with that. In fact, he was almost relieved at being forcibly distanced from mafia dealings. He was pretty sure he’d had enough of that nonsense to last him a lifetime.
But as Technoblade, Wilbur, and Phil began to go out more and more on SBI business, Tommy couldn’t help but feel left out. He was almost fifteen! Not to mention, he had intimate knowledge of how the mafia worked, given his years of observation in Dream’s realm. So he didn’t see why Technoblade was so opposed to the idea of letting him join here and there.
He knew argument was futile— Technoblade shut down the conversation every time Tommy so much as alluded to SBI’s upcoming dealings— but one night, that persistent feeling of exclusion became too much to bear.
He was just curious. He wasn’t going to get involved. He was going to tail them, observe silently, and the moment things looked like they were starting to wrap up, he was going to scramble home and be in bed before they arrived.
It was foolproof.
The only problem was that it wasn’t Tommy-proof.
Tommy knew he was clumsy— he always had been— but he’d been a street kid, for God’s sakes! He was used to sneaking around, to going unnoticed. This should have been a cinch.
Instead, he tripped. He tripped inside a warehouse full of armed men, and sent both himself and a small stack of crates clattering to the ground.
He froze.
All guns and eyes swung to him.
“Tommy—!”
Technoblade’s shout was cut off by an eruption of gunfire.
Tommy didn’t scream. Years of dangerous living had him dropping to the ground as a round of gunfire swept over him, right where he’d just been standing. On his stomach, he managed to haul himself behind a stack of crates and take cover there as shots rang through the room.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, clutching his ears. He could hardly hear his own words over the thundering gunfire and the sound of nearby shouts made him want to run. He’d been in dangerous situations before, but never a firefight like this. It was all he could do to curl up as tightly as he could against the floor, his hands over his ears and his jaw aching from clenching against the panic.
Tommy didn’t know how much time he spent cowering behind the crates and counting heartbeats between shots, but after what seemed like a lifetime, the gunfire ceased.
For a long while, Tommy didn’t move. He was afraid to look up and see his family’s bodies sprawled in pools of their own blood. But finally, he mustered the courage to rise to his knees and peer over the crates.
Relief swept over Tommy like a wave. Wilbur, Phil, and Technoblade were standing, unharmed, in the center of the warehouse. There were bodies around them, some further away, all either dead or dying. Tommy exhaled shakily, suddenly weak with relief.
Then that wave of relief crashed and shattered on the sand because Technoblade was stalking towards him, looking angrier than Tommy had ever seen him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Technoblade hissed. His broad, gloved hand closed around Tommy’s bicep and he yanked him roughly to his feet. Tommy was pliant as Technoblade manhandled him, feeling over his clothes for any sign of injury. “Jesus. Are you hurt?” the man demanded.
Tommy’s mouth was dry. His old fear had been replaced completely, overtaken by this new one.
“I— I’m okay,” he managed to stumble out. “I’m not hurt.”
Thick fingers caught his chin and lifted his head up. Technoblade looked furious, even as he continued to scan Tommy for injury. “Then maybe you’d like to explain just what the hell you were thinking?”
“I—” It was like every ounce of courage he’d left the house with had fled. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he’d wanted to do this at all. “I’m sorry, I—” His throat seized. He wasn’t going to start crying. He wasn’t. He could take someone’s anger, he wasn’t a fucking baby—
Technoblade dropped his chin. For a moment, it was all Tommy could do to suck in a breath. Then Technoblade wrapped a heavy, restricting arm around his shoulders and began to walk him forcibly towards the exit.
“Clean up here,” he snapped at Wilbur and Phil. “We’ll see you at the house.”
The house. Not home.
Tommy could take a punishment. He could take missed meals, he could take hits, but he couldn’t take this. He couldn’t take losing the first home he’d ever truly had.
“Please,” he begged, against his better judgment. They were already out the door, but even the cool night air didn’t help to ease his racing heart.
“Don’t—” Technoblade pinched his brow with his free hand and let out a tense breath. “I’m very angry right now, Tommy. We can talk later, but for now, please just don’t.”
Tommy fell silent. As much as he wanted to beg and plead, he wasn’t going to risk angering Technoblade further. Technoblade’s arm across the back of his neck hurried him along.
They weren’t far from the house, not with the shortcuts they took through the alleyways. Even when they arrived though, Technoblade didn’t seem in the mood to talk.
“Go upstairs,” Technoblade said stiffly. He wasn’t looking at Tommy, instead unloading his gun and stripping himself of his gear. “Go— go to your room.”
Tommy scrambled to obey. He was almost grateful; at least he wasn’t being kicked out this instant. He could get his things together. He could leave on his own terms.
His room felt strange when he entered it— like it was somebody else’s. He supposed that was fair, considering he could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually slept there.
He grabbed his old backpack— he couldn’t bear to use the new one Phil had bought for him— and began packing his essentials. If living on the streets had taught him anything, it was how to pack light.
Sometime later, he heard Phil and Wilbur enter the house. Their voices were muffled by the floor, too low for Tommy to make out. He could read their tones though. Phil’s was as steady as ever, while Wilbur’s was strangely calming. Technoblade still sounded angry.
Eventually, their voices faded out and Tommy scrambled to hide as he heard footsteps on the stairs.
A knock sounded on his door.
Tommy froze, half-hidden behind his bed. The window was right there if he needed it, he could—
“Tommy?” It was Technoblade.
Tommy couldn’t help the way he jumped, startled even though he’d been expecting it. He took a slow, deep breath and held it for a long moment.
“Tommy—” Technoblade cut himself off. He let out a tense sigh. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”
He didn’t sound quite so angry as he had before, but Tommy knew better than to think that the danger had passed.
Though his breath was coming in shaky pants, Tommy forced himself to raise his voice enough to say, “Okay.”
He watched for a tense moment as Technoblade’s shadow remained outside the door. Then it disappeared and Tommy heard his footsteps down the hall. With a shaky exhale, Tommy closed his eyes and tilted his head back.
He had to get out of here.
There was little he hated more than waiting, but right now, waiting was the only option he had.
He waited for the floorboards to ease their creaking, for the running water to quiet, for lights to go out beneath bedroom doors. Only then did he make his move.
Silently, he crept out of his bedroom. His shoes were held in his hands, his jacket was already on, and his backpack was secured to his back. The stairs were a trick to get down— the house was old and the wooden stairs reminded him of it each time he took a step— but eventually, he made it. He stepped carefully through the living room, breath bated as he maneuvered towards the front door.
“Hey.”
Tommy had to suppress a scream as he whirled around.
“Jesus!” he hissed, glaring at the lanky form leaning against the kitchen door frame. “You creepy fucker!”
Wilbur grinned at him and his teeth shone in the darkness.
Tommy had to resist the urge to shudder.
Wilbur nodded at his backpack, his brow raised innocently. “Going on a walk?”
Tommy stiffened and his hands came up to grip at his backpack straps. “Don’t—”
“Don’t worry,” Wilbur said, waving his hand. “I’m not gonna tell. Mind if I go with you though?” He smiled again, all teeth. “I could use some air.”
Tommy gritted his teeth. He didn’t see how he could argue. He could hear the underlying threat in Wilbur’s words: Let me come, or I’ll tell.
“Fine,” he bit out. He didn’t wait to see if Wilbur was following him as he stalked out the door, but sure enough, when he made it to the sidewalk, the man had sidled up next to him.
Tommy hadn’t missed how Wilbur had slid a handgun into his waistband on their way out the door. Maybe he was about to be threatened then. He didn’t expect it from Wilbur, but then again, he’d never heard Technoblade sound so angry before, so maybe this was just a night of unpleasant surprises.
For a long while, they walked in silence. As they got further and further from the house, Tommy dared to hope that Wilbur would remain quiet.
But he supposed he wouldn’t be afforded that bit of mercy because a block later, Wilbur began to speak.
“You’re not the first kid to fuck up in this family, you know.”
Tommy startled. He hadn’t really expected Wilbur to speak, let alone open up with something like that. Wilbur was unphased though and he continued like Tommy hadn’t just jumped out of his skin.
“I was eight when they found me.”
Tommy tried not to show it, but he was curious. He knew Phil and Technoblade had taken Wilbur in when he was just a kid, but he didn’t know the details of how the now-twenty-year-old had come to live with the two senior members of SBI.
“I was a street kid like you, though—” Wilbur made a face of consideration. “Maybe not quite in the danger you were in.” He waved his hand haphazardly. “Either way, I was young when they took me in and definitely a little fucked up from being alone for so long.”
“You’re still fucked up,” Tommy muttered.
Wilbur laughed. To Tommy’s surprise, he looked delighted at Tommy’s insolent comment.
“Good to know you’re still in there,” he said, ruffling Tommy’s hair. Tommy knocked his hand away with a half-hearted snarl.
“Anyway, I was a feral little kid trying to get used to a family— to authority figures, no less. I was doomed to fail.” Wilbur side-eyed Tommy then. “Just like you.”
Tommy scowled automatically. “Fuck you. I’m not doomed to fail.”
“You are,” Wilbur argued. “And so was I. But that’s what Phil and Technoblade are there for. To protect you and pick you back up when you do fail.”
Tommy couldn’t contain his curiosity. “What happened? You know, when you… failed?” He still winced at the word, but Wilbur didn’t seem to mind.
“I got into the weapons,” Wilbur said casually. “I was ten. I knew the rules—” He glanced at Tommy and Tommy nodded. He was familiar with those rules himself. “Anyway,” Wilbur said, shrugging. “Phil found me holding a semi-automatic and freaked out. It wasn’t even loaded, but neither of us knew that at the time. I thought he was furious and I fucking bolted before he could do anything. I was scared,” Wilbur said, with an absent sort of smile. “And it turns out, so was he.”
“Was he actually mad?” Tommy couldn’t imagine Phil angry outside of SBI business; he’d always been the most gentle of the three, soft-spoken and thoughtful.
“Oh yeah,” Wilbur said, with a little laugh. Then he sobered. “But more than angry, he was scared. I could have been hurt, or killed, all because of a dumb choice I made. All he wanted to do was protect me and when he thought he couldn’t, it terrified him.” He looked at Tommy then. “Tonight, Technoblade was scared.”
Tommy looked away and was horrified to find that his throat was tight. “I didn’t mean to upset him,” he said, and he hated how childish he sounded.
“I know,” Wilbur said gently. “And I didn’t mean to upset Phil back then either. But it happened.” He stopped walking then and caught Tommy by the shoulders. His touch was soft as he turned Tommy to face him. “Things happen, Tommy. I know you’re used to dealing with things by running away, but you have a family now. Families face things. Together.”
To his utter humiliation, Tommy’s breath hitched. He blinked furiously, tears stinging at his eyes. “I don’t want to leave,” he said, turning his head as his voice broke.
Wilbur gave him a sad smile. “Good,” he said gently. “Because we don’t want you to leave either.”
“But… but Techno’s gonna be so mad!” Tommy burst out. Despite his overwhelming desire to just run back home, he couldn’t help the cold grip fear still had on his heart.
“He’s not mad,” Wilbur insisted. Then he made a face of consideration. “Well, he is,” he retracted. “But more than that, he’s scared. Like Phil was back then. Do you understand?”
Tommy swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he whispered. He pulled away from Wilbur’s hands and the man let him go.
Tommy wiped at his eyes. “What, uh— what happened back then? After you ran?”
“Technoblade found me,” Wilbur said, shrugging. “And he told me pretty much exactly what I’m telling you now. And then he brought me home.”
“Oh.” Tommy let out a shuddering breath. “And Phil?”
“He hugged me,” Wilbur said simply. “Didn’t let me go for ages.” He smiled, his eyes a little distant, as if reliving the moment. Then he blinked and glanced at Tommy. “His worst fear was losing me. Techno’s is losing you.”
“Oh,” Tommy repeated dumbly.
“So can we please go home?” Wilbur asked, his brow raised encouragingly.
Tommy nearly started crying then, though this time of relief. Home. “Yeah,” he whispered, nodding over and over again. He had to swallow past the lump of tears sitting in his throat.
“Good,” Wilbur said, giving him a reassuring smile and reaching to thumb at his chin. Then, in an abrupt return to his usual irritating personality, he dangled his phone in Tommy’s face. Tommy was startled to see dozens of notifications on the lit-up screen, with still more incoming. “Because Techno’s losing his fucking mind wondering where you are.”
Tommy’s blood ran cold. “Fuck,” he breathed. He was in so much trouble.
“Yeah,” Wilbur agreed. “Fuck. Now let's get home before he has every informant in the city out looking for you.”
Tommy stalled, going still even when Wilbur tried to guide him to turn around.
“Are you sure?” He couldn’t help but ask. He needed to know. “He won’t hurt me?”
For that brief moment, Wilbur looked very, very serious. “He won’t hurt you. I swear it. And if he does, I’ll fucking shoot him. Got it?”
Tommy swallowed. “Got it,” he said hoarsely.
Wilbur smiled brightly. “Cool. Hold my hand while we walk?”
“Fuck no,” Tommy snapped, wiping the back of his hand across his cheeks to clear them of any stray tears.
Wilbur pouted, but didn’t push it.
They’d walked farther than Tommy realized— it took them a good twenty minutes to get home. Wilbur spent a decent amount of the walk typing on his phone and Tommy assumed he was informing Technoblade that they were on their way home. It made him nervous to think about Technoblade on the other end of the line, so Tommy had to look away while Wilbur texted.
They climbed the steps of the house slowly, Wilbur matching Tommy’s pace. The man didn’t reach to open the door. He let Tommy take a deep breath and do it himself.
“Hey,” Wilbur said, catching Tommy’s hand before it could close around the door handle. He met Tommy’s eyes, once again uncharacteristically serious. “Remember what I said.”
Tommy nodded. His jaw was tight with fear as he turned the handle and stepped into the house.
Technoblade was waiting for them on the couch. He stood immediately as Tommy pushed open the door, his eyes wide as they locked on Tommy.
“Tommy,” Technoblade breathed, and rushed towards him. On instinct, Tommy flinched. But he wasn’t met with fists or anger. Instead, strong, familiar, wonderful arms swept him into a hug. Technoblade was on his knees, Tommy clutched tight to his chest, one hand pressed firmly to the back of Tommy’s head and his fingers tangled in his hair.
Tommy burst into tears.
“Hey, hey,” Technoblade said, clutching Tommy a little closer. “You’re all right. I’ve got you.”
Tommy exhaled shakily and his whole body went limp in Technoblade’s arms. He could feel tears soaking the shoulder of Technoblade’s shirt, but neither one of them made any move to pull away.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy gasped, shuddering at the force of his sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Technoblade’s voice was low and relieved in Tommy’s ear. His palm was warm on the back of his neck. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Tommy nodded against Technoblade’s shoulder. Though fear still buzzed faintly inside of him, it was overpowered by the comfort he felt in Technoblade’s arms.
“Here,” Technoblade murmured, pulling away slightly. “Take this off.” He eased Tommy’s backpack off of his shoulders and set it on the ground. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Jesus.” He hugged Tommy again before pulling back, his hands planted on Tommy’s shoulders.
“Don’t ever do that again, do you understand?” To Tommy’s horror, Technoblade sounded on the verge of tears. “When I realized you were gone…” He swallowed and looked away. “Fuck.” He looked back at Tommy. “Just don’t do it again. Please.”
Tommy nodded tearfully. “I won’t,” he promised, and he meant it.
“Here,” Technoblade said, blinking hard to clear his eyes of unshed tears. “Come sit down.”
Tommy let him guide him to the couch, his knees weak. He collapsed onto it and Technoblade crouched in front of him, low enough that he was now looking up at Tommy. Tommy couldn’t deny that the position made him feel safer.
“So…” Tommy hated the way his voice wobbled, but he couldn’t help this persistent fear. “You’re not gonna make me leave?”
“No.” Technoblade sounded aghast at even the idea of it. “If anything, I’m not gonna let you out of my sight for the next year.”
Tommy let out a little huff of laughter and wiped at his eyes.
Technoblade continued, his voice serious. “Tommy, I know I scared you, but… Kid, when I saw you in that warehouse…” He let out a shaky breath and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. “My heart stopped. There were weapons in that place and people who wouldn’t hesitate before killing you. I couldn’t protect you and I freaked out.”
Tommy sniffed and looked away. He couldn’t bear to meet Technoblade’s eyes like this.
“You shouldn’t have followed us,” Technoblade said firmly. “It was a stupid, unneccessary risk. But… I shouldn’t have yelled either. It didn’t help.”
Tommy just shrugged. His throat was too tight to speak and his eyes were burning with tears all over again as he stared at his lap.
“Tommy, this is important.” Technoblade’s broad hand cupped his cheek and guided him to look into his eyes. “Things happen. We’re human. We make mistakes and we get angry. But—” Technoblade’s grip on Tommy’s cheek tightened marginally, but the warm palm was more of a comfort than anything else. “You are never going to face danger from us because of a mistake you made. Do you understand?”
Tommy swallowed and nodded, but Technoblade wasn’t finished.
“It is unconscionable to me to ever hurt a child.” Technoblade’s voice was thick with emotion. “Let alone mine.”
Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and tilted forward to press his forehead to Technoblade’s chest. Technoblade’s hand slid to grip the nape of his neck, his palm warm on the skin there.
For a long while, he just held him and Tommy let himself drift in Technoblade’s arms. Then the man guided him to sit back up.
“You must be tired,” Technoblade said, running a broad hand over Tommy’s hair. “You’ve been all over the place tonight, huh?”
Tommy nodded tearfully. He was tired— exhausted actually— and it was all catching up to him now.
“Let’s get these shoes off of you, huh?”
Technoblade knelt from his crouch to untie Tommy’s shoes and that simple act of care was enough to send Tommy into another round of tears. He hid his face in his sleeve and let Technoblade slide his shoes off. Then he was lifted into those familiar arms and everything was right again.
“Let’s go to bed,” Technoblade murmured into Tommy’s ear. Tommy nodded and clung to him, burying his face in Technoblade’s shoulder.
He was carried up the stairs, not into his room, but into Technoblade’s. A wave of relief washed over him as he realized where he was. Technoblade was gentle as he set Tommy in his bed.
“Do you want to get changed?” Technoblade asked, running a hand over Tommy’s back.
“No,” Tommy said, because it would mean having to let go of Technoblade. He knew it was childish, but right now, he wanted nothing more than to keep his arms locked around Technoblade, his face buried in the safety of Technoblade’s warmth.
“Please, kid,” Technoblade said, and the exasperation in his voice held only fondness. “You cannot sleep in your jeans.”
“I can and I have,” Tommy mumbled, but he didn’t have it in himself to argue further. He was pliant as Technoblade set him into a standing position, and took the sweatpants and t-shirt Technoblade offered him. Tommy had the distant thought to be grateful that most of his clothes were kept in Technoblade’s room as he changed before he climbed back into bed and dragged Technoblade by the arm with him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Technoblade said with a roll of his eyes, but his arms were solid around Tommy as he climbed in beside him. Tommy burrowed his face in the man’s neck and tucked himself impossibly closer.
“Thank you for coming home,” Technoblade whispered into Tommy’s hair.
Tommy gave a little shrug. “It’s home,” he said simply.
What he meant was, I love you too.