Chapter Text
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
Tommy nods for the third time and smoothes his hands over the new blanket Wilbur’s passed him. It's just as soft as the last three. “Yes Wilbur. You’ve given me basically every fucking blanket in your closet. I'm pretty sure I’ll be warm enough for one night.”
Wilbur keeps shuffling back and forth, fiddling with the thermostat and the window and the TV. “There’s Netflix and Hulu and all that stuff. Here's the remote. If you need water, or get hungry there’s-”
“Wil,” Tommy interrupts, exasperated now, “I know where the kitchen is. And I doubt I’ll want a meal in the middle of the night. I’ll be fine. Seriously.”
“Okay.” Wilbur says. He takes a little step back. “Okay. Just- don’t be afraid to knock on my door and ask for something. Anything. You know how it goes, Toms.”
He starts to go and Tommy suddenly has the strongest urge to ask him to stay- to tell him that they can pile all the blankets on the floor and sleep there, a bit desperate to have someone safe close- but he dismisses that, feeling like that would be a bit much. Wilbur's done so much for him already without needing to. Tommy wouldn't want to put him off any.
Wilbur hesitates, then slowly shuts the door and Tommy settles back, pulling the blankets around himself.
Before he knows it, he’s asleep.
...
At some point in the middle of the night the creak of the door opening sounds.
Tommy, half asleep, shifts under the blanket, but doesn't fully wake. Dimly, he's aware of someone else moving in the room, and then they’re sliding into bed next to him, at his back- close and warm. Another person slides in at his front and Tommy, eyes closed, still dreaming, shuffles closer to lay his forehead against their cool collarbone.
"He's tired," one voice whispers.
"Can you blame him?" the other goes, their voice just barely hushed enough to not wake him. "He should've stayed with us. He should stay with us. We wouldn't- we would never-"
"I know. I- I know. You know that I know. We'll let him rest. We'll let him rest and we can talk later. In the morning, yeah? We're here now, and that's what matters."
A hand comes up, brushes slowly through his hair and Tommy drifts.
He wakes again, fully this time, to that same hand now lax against his head and two arms curled around his waist. The warmth is easily recognizable as Tubbo, and the shoulder Tommy's hiding against is Ranboo, dead asleep.
"Tommy?" Tubbo whispers, the arms pulling away. He sits up to peer over at Tommy. "You awake?"
Tommy pulls away from Ranboo, who protests lightly but eventually settles back into sleep, so he can sit up and turn to Tubbo. “Tubbo, hey- what are you guys doing here?”
Tubbo shrugs, grinning slightly. “It’s where you are. Also, Wilbur let us in. Didn’t I say see you tomorrow?”
“I- yeah, but- I guess I just wasn’t expecting-”
“Well you should start expecting.” He huffs. “ And - don’t think you’re in the clear- I'm still pissed at you.”
Tommy blinks. “For what ?”
“Not answering our texts and making Ranboo all worried from over a two hour train ride’s distance away." Tubbo says immediately. "He had no way to know what was wrong with you- only that something was wrong. Really wrong. And you know like I know that he’s too nice to be mad at you for it so I'm doing it for him.”
“That’s fair,” Tommy admits. “Okay. I’m sorry that I didn’t respond to your texts. And I’m sorry that I made you worry, and-”
“You don’t have to say sorry for making us worry, we love you, so it comes with the territory.” Ranboo says sleepily. He reaches over and tugs Tommy closer, then presses his face into Tommy’s side like Tommy is his own personal pillow. Tommy rolls his eyes and pats Ranboo's head patronizingly. “But you’re not allowed to go back home ever again.”
“Says the American in the UK,” Tommy retorts, but he isn’t really complaining. Home is where his magic is free. Home is with these two dumbasses. “I’m gonna have to go back at some point.”
“No,” Tubbo says simply.
“What do you mean-”
“No,” Ranboo offers, voice muffled.
“I’m-”
“If they can’t appreciate our Tommy then they don’t deserve him.” Tubbo says. “Isn’t that right Ranboo?”
Ranboo disentangles a hand from Tommy’s shirt to do a thumbs up. Tubbo bares his teeth in a triumphant grin. Tommy groans, accidentally forgetting to hide his fond smile, his dumbasses.
Silence descends after that- some weird, unknown tension entering the air that has Ranboo pulling away, sitting up and giving Tubbo a look that Tommy can't decipher. Whatever it is, it clearly means something to Tubbo because he slides off the bed and leaves with the excuse that he's going to wake Wilbur.
When he's gone, Tommy frowns. "Ranboo, what's-"
Ranboo reaches over and takes Tommy's hand, shocking him into silence. The boy doesn't speak, just turning Tommy's palm up, and brushing the pads of his thumb against Tommy's skin. He gently traces the lines etched into Tommy's hand, and Tommy can't tell if Ranboo is reading it, or just gearing up to talk.
"Tommy," He starts, eyes downcast, "I don't know what happened, and I wouldn't want to make you talk about it if you didn't feel up to it, so all I know is what I felt. What you felt. Fear. Terror. All too much at once. Pain and betrayal and dread."
Hearing it all laid out like that- knowing that Ranboo felt it with zero clue as to what Tommy was going through, makes guilt pulse through him, strong and unrelenting.
"And I don't say this to make you feel guilty!" Ranboo rushes to amend, looking up, eyes wide. "No, but I- I want to actually ask for a favor, if I could. Tubbo said that it would work out fine, but I don't- I wouldn't want to make you feel like you had to or that-"
"Ranboo," Tommy cuts him off. "Go on. Ask me. I trust you."
"Okay. Okay. You- alright." Ranboo goes, and takes a huge steadying breath. "I- so you know how my magic is all runes and carvings and rituals?"
"Yeah? A bit? I don't know that much about those honestly."
"That's okay. I can teach you if you wanted to learn, but- well, one of the things that I can do- and I hardly ever do it, because I've never felt like I needed to before- but what I can do is work around the stars and place a protective rune over you, so it’s harder for people to hurt you.”
Tommy blinks. “You’d do that? Place a protective rune on me?”
“Of course, Tommy.” Ranboo brushes a finger over Tommy’s life line- which Tommy only knows because Ranboo sat him down and taught him all about them before. “To keep you safe? Of course. Anything.”
Tommy thinks back to when he was standing alone against his grandfather- the way he ended up pulling his strength from his friends and all the gifts they've given him. This is just another way to have him close, to have that person standing at his back even when he's alone.
"Thanks Ranboo," He says, "I'd like that. It sounds nice.”
“Okay, we can do it later when the moon is out so it sticks.” Ranboo says, and the level of determination in his voice surprises Tommy, but he knows that it’s powered by love, so honestly, it shouldn’t be that shocking. “Okay, we should go help with breakfast, yeah? Maybe we can convince them to make pancakes.”
Tommy follows Ranboo through the hall into the dining room, where Wilbur, clad in fuzzy pajama pants, a t-shirt and a pair of slippers, is rifling through grocery bags, pulling out a container of strawberries and blueberries and a net full of tangerines. Tubbo is banging about in the kitchen, making a right mess of Wilbur’s pans.
“Are you just-” Ranboo starts, pulling Wilbur’s attention, “are you just going to let him- uh- do that?”
“Hey, if you can stop him…” Wilbur trails off, a good-natured smile on his face. Ranboo laughs, and then heads into the kitchen to try and keep Tubbo from using every single piece of metal within his reach. “Morning Toms, I got fruits and toppings- I was thinking of doing waffles if that’s alright with you?”
Tommy leans close, tucking his chin against Wilbur’s shoulder to look down at the table. Bananas and kiwis and apples. All bright and ripe and ready to be eaten.
“Can we do pancakes instead?” He asks, “or would that be-”
“We can have pancakes, of course.” Wilbur tips his head so it rests against the top of Tommy’s for a brief moment. “Sleep well?”
“Better when they came, yeah.” Tommy admits lowly, pulling away to look in the kitchen to where Ranboo has clearly forgotten his mission of keeping Tommy under control and is now helping Tubbo reach the top shelves. “Thanks for this, by the way. Letting them over. You didn’t have to.”
Wilbur shoots Tommy a look. “Yeah I did. I know you Toms, you were two seconds away from getting on that train to go to them. I’m surprised you even thought to call me.”
“They reminded me to.” Tommy admits. “And your text. Otherwise, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“You would have found your way to one of us,” Wilbur says. He sounds certain. “You’re smart and you know that we love you. If it wasn’t Tubbo and Ranboo or me, then Niki or Fundy or Jack and Scott. You know we’d all take you in, no questions asked.”
And yeah, Tommy knows that. He knows that the friends he’s made over the internet are some of the most kind and respectful and loving people that he’s ever known. He knows that if he ever had an issue- of any type- he could pop over to Jack’s or even text Dream and have him flying in before the morning. But even still, knowing it and hearing it are very different to having it actually happen.
“Can I help?” Tommy asks around the emotion rising in his throat. If he even tried to respond to that, he’d probably just start crying.
“Yeah, let’s rinse these off and start cutting them,” Wilbur pushes the strawberries into Tommy’s hands. “I’m thinking we can make a fruit salad and if there are some bits left over, we can use them as toppings on our pancakes. How does that sound?”
“Pog,” Tommy says, excited now. “Give me a knife Wil.”
Wilbur pauses. “Actually. Nevermind, you can help Tubbo with the pancake batter. I’m not giving Tommyinnit a knife.”
“ What? Wilbur! I’m- I'm so responsible. I’m the most responsible one here.”
“I can’t believe opposite day came early this year,” Wilbur hums, “wow, that’s crazy.”
“You know what, give me two knives.”
“Why?”
“Because one will be for the fruit and the other will be for stabbin’ shit- more specifically you.”
Wilbur roll his eyes fondly. “I’m glad you’re preventing cross-contamination while you’re plotting to maim me. That’s very sweet.”
Tommy grins and then holds out his hand expectantly for the knife.
…
Breakfast is beautiful.
Tubbo attempts to flip pancakes and ends up throwing one out the window, one to the ceiling and the other flat against Ranboo’s forehead. After that, Ranboo takes the pan from him and makes him help with preparing the fruit salad. Tommy successfully manages to prove himself with the knife and makes quick work of the strawberries and grapes until Tubbo comes over to help and he can’t help but launch grape halves at his head. Predictably, Wilbur doesn’t like that and makes him pick up all the grapes, apologize to Tubbo, and , on top of all that, doesn’t let him cut the grapes anymore. Boo. He’s allowed to go and get the bowls and spoons though, and as he’s scooting around Ranboo to reach up into the cupboard, he hears sweet music in the air- a ukulele, peaceful plucking that floats neatly to their ears.
Ranboo and Tommy both turn in time to watch Tubbo pull Wilbur to his feet and spin them around the dining room table, both looking the picture of happiness, moving with floppy limbs and uncoordinated steps. Wilbur laughs when Tubbo springs around like a bunny as the music swells, and Ranboo's grin grows, eyes curving into crescents.
Tommy nudges Ranboo a little, pushing him towards them and waves him off when he protests, taking hold of the pan. The three of them circle each other on the carpet, giggling and vocalizing randomly, making Tommy feel like he’s swelling up like a balloon.
He finishes off the last pancake and pulls the plates down just in time for Tubbo to curl a hand around Tommy’s wrist and tug him onto the carpet to dance.
“Tubs,” Tommy laughs, wanting to protest, “Tubbo, I-”
“Can’t hear you over the ukulele!” Tubbo crows, “isn’t that right Wilbur?”
Wilbur grins, throwing a thumbs up before stepping into the kitchen to grab the plates and bowls that Tommy put down on the counter. Tubbo pulls him away from the table and into the living room where the balcony doors have been thrown open. The music follows them, and Tommy gives in to the momentum, spinning and tipping this way and that, laughing when Tubbo’s sunshine rays beam in from the outside, almost blinding him. Ranboo comes in at the perfect moment to keep Tommy from falling when he’s dizzy, and he must be feeling properly affectionate, because when Tommy is steady, he just wraps his arms around Tommy’s shoulders and lays his chin on the top of Tommy’s head.
The music slows to a gentle plucking and a rich, soft violin and Tubbo steps forward and wraps his arms around Tommy and buries his large smile in Tommy’s chest. Ranboo doesn’t move either, except to rock them all back and forth slowly, relishing in the fact that they’re together, in the fact that they’re alive on this Earth all at the same time. Blessed just to be.
…
They eat, and the berries are fresh and juicy and the pancakes light and fluffy. Everything is sweet. Tommy spends more time staring across the table at his brothers than he does actually eating and anytime they notice him stalling, Tubbo will peel yet another tangerine or Wilbur will pour him more milk. Ranboo just smiles knowingly, understanding exactly what type of awed overwhelming warmth Tommy is feeling and is trying to work around.
It’s paralyzing- holding this much love for another person. It feels bigger than the sky, deeper than the ocean. It feels way too much to have, way too much to live with.
And then Tubbo throws a grape at Tommy’s face to get back at him for earlier and Tommy determines that he actually hates Tubbo’s guts.
When they’re done eating, they clear the table and wash the dishes together, with Wilbur flicking soapy bubbles at Tommy and Tommy threatening to smash all of his handmade pottery bowls against the floor despite holding them tightly to his chest so he doesn't do it by accident. Ranboo carefully pulls the bowls from Tommy and starts talking about shit like craftsmanship and glazing and wheels and kilns in a way that makes Tommy want to sit him down and make him explain everything there is to know about the little colorful, seemingly simple cracked pots. Wilbur starts nodding along excitedly to Ranboo’s stumbling explanations and that's when Tommy rolls his eyes- the only person legally allowed to geek out about magical artifacts is Ranboo, from now until forever.
Thankfully, Tubbo starts getting restless, as it’s nearing noon, when the sun is at its highest point.
“Let’s go out, come on, come on-” Tubbo goes, tugging Tommy by the back of his shirt, almost choking him to death. “I bet the clouds are nice- you could probably find animals in them, come on-”
“Wil, Wil, please say we can go, Tubbo is going to end up killing me,” Tommy pleads.
Wilbur makes that expression where he’s trying to look exasperated, but he’s entirely too fond to pull it off. “Yeah, fuck, alright, go outside- Ranboo and I will finish cleaning up in here and then we’ll join you.”
That’s all they need to hear before they’re grabbing their shoes- only at Wil’s insistence- and sprinting out and down the stairs. Just like yesterday, Tommy is running as soon as his feet hit the pavement, but unlike yesterday, Tubbo is right by his side and they’re both absolutely beaming. The second they see the park, they’re whooping with delight and Tommy reaches over to nudge Tubbo.
“Tag!” He yells and shrieks when Tubbo lunges at him.
They run for a while, Tommy ducking through trees and subtly folding the leaves to hide him, and Tubbo loudly complains of cheating, but gets him back when it’s his turn to tag by shifting the sun beams into Tommy’s eyes so he can’t see.
“You bitch!” Tommy cackles, because the park is empty and there are no children around to be corrupted. Tubbo laughs then runs up the slide the wrong way and Tommy is forced to call a truce because he’s too tall to chase Tubbo on the jungle gym without breaking his own ankles.
He collapses back onto the grass, arms splayed and Tubbo clambers down to join him, glowing brightly. He sits next to Tommy and tilts his chin up to the light.
“You still mad at me Tubs?”
“No, you’re too pitiful at tag for me to still be mad at,” Tubbo sighs playfully. “Clean slate yeah? Until the next game. Or the next time that you need help and don’t text immediately.”
Tommy looks over, eyeing his best friend- in the bright noon light he’s still gleaming, shining from the inside out. “No more next times.” Tommy decides. “Just right now.”
Tubbo smiles. “Finally. Something I can agree with.”
…
Ranboo and Wilbur join them a little while later, Ranboo with more cups of fruit salad for them to snack on, and Wilbur with his guitar slung over his back and a blanket in his hands. Ranboo unfolds the blanket and ushers the two of them onto it. Tommy leans back and closes his eyes, listening as Wilbur tunes, and then laughing in-between groans when Wilbur starts playing twinkle twinkle little star instead of literally any of his actual songs.
“Play something real Wil!” Tommy complains, blindly reaching out a hand to smack whatever part of him he can reach. Wilbur yelps- bingo.
“I am," Wil says, affronted on Twinkle Twinkle's behalf. "I’d argue that Twinkle Twinkle little star is real.”
“It’s really not,” Tommy protests.
“Well,” Ranboo pipes up, “I’d say it is, technically, of course. People created the song to ask for guidance from the stars when traveling at night, and to sing their praises when they get where they're going safely. It’s a lullaby now, sung to children to wish constant safe travels upon them no matter the conditions.”
“See?” Wilbur says, grinning winningly.
Tommy turns to Ranboo. “Dude!”
Ranboo blinks. “Oh- uh. I mean, uh, twinkle twinkle is just a little jingle. For children. Not important deity-like figures with ritualistic uses. That- that would be silly.”
Tubbo snorts and Tommy turns back to Wilbur, who’s watching them all fondly. “See? Not real, Ranboo said so. Can we please hear some custom Wilbur Soot music?”
“Custom?” Wilbur repeats, looking down at his strings. "I guess so. Just for you guys though, don’t go recording this and posting it to Tik Tok- looking at you Tommyinnit.”
Tommy doesn’t bother responding, too excited, too busy settling down to listen to Wilbur play. He starts playing the song he was talking about at dinner yesterday- a gentle tune about the beauty of magic, about the beauty of them. The music seems to create this little bubble of warmth around them- feeling much like a continuation of Wilbur's promise to always be a safe space. Of course, his music is an extension of that promise, if not something that made it come to life, made it feel tangible enough to dive head first into and swallow whole.
"This feels like honey," Tubbo whispers, and Tommy nods, understanding completely. It did- warm and sweet. Tommy wanted to coat his hands in Wilbur's sound or swirl it into his tea, drink it like it was medicine to a sickness he didn't know he had.
Ranboo, eyes lidded, nods slowly, blinking like a cat. "Magic's underneath this," he mumbles, "it has to be there's just no other way."
"Wil is just that good," Tommy says, pride for his brother making him feel ten times taller. When the song comes to an end, the three of them break out into rowdy applause and beg for another.
Of course, Wilbur acquiesces.
…
They listen to Wilbur play until the sky begins to darken and Tubbo's energy switches into distinctly dimming. He lists over, head on Tommy's shoulder, and Tommy grins, curving inward to grow a yellow daffodil behind his ear.
Wilbur watches the casual display of magic with as much awe as he always does, even though he's seen it a bunch by now. Every time it's like it's new for him and all the fear Tommy held when telling him is worth the sparkle he sees when Tommy does so much as breath.
Ranboo leans over to explain the magic of cloud reading, and Tommy thinks he could sleep right here- in the middle of his friends and laying on his beloved Earth with the wind-
"Hey," Tubbo whispers sleepily, sounding like he's just noticed something, "where's your God friend? Mother wind?"
Tommy frowns, lifting his head a little. "I- I don't know." He didn't notice it until Tubbo pointed it out, but the wind, while being there, is not nearly as strong as Tommy is used to. "Maybe I-"
Then suddenly Tommy remembers- in the midst of all his pain and panic when running away, Mother wind was attempting to pull him to the train station, to where safety would be, and he snapped at her.
“I think I might have upset her,” Tommy realizes. “She was- when I ran out of my house, she tried to push me to get on the train to come to you guys and- and I was overwhelmed and needed a moment so I snapped at her.”
“You snapped at her because she was being smarter than you?” Tubbo says disbelievingly. “She was trying to get you to us where you’d be safe.”
“I know, I know.” Tommy winces. “I was panicking and needed to think. I also didn’t bring money to get a train ticket, so-”
“Stupid.” Tubbo tsks, reaching down to grab Tommy’s hand. “You’re gonna have to say you’re sorry to her.”
“I’ve been doing that a lot lately,” the wind gently bushes his face when he tilts his nose upwards, “I guess I could stand to do it one more time.”
Eventually the clouds clear and the air begins to chill and Wilbur tells Tubbo to follow him inside to help make dinner, leaving just Tommy and Ranboo under the glittering evening sky. Ranboo turns to face him, sitting cross legged with his hands lax on his knees and Tommy copies him.
“Don’t be nervous,” Ranboo reassures, “I can tell you exactly what I’m going to do if you wanted to know.”
“I’m- I’m not nervous. I’m never nervous.” Tommy protests. Ranboo hums unconvincingly, reaches forward with cold hands to press his fingers against Tommy’s frantic pulse. Right. Emotion magic. Fucking hell.
“Breathe Tommy,” Ranboo says slowly, taking an exaggerated breath for Tommy to follow. “Here’s what I’m going to do- I’m going to have you close your eyes and lift your chin. And then I’m going to reach out and take my pointer finger and my middle finger and gently brush across your forehead, then your cheekbones and then down your adam’s apple. Once I’m done with that, I’ll draw this symbol in the air above your heart-” In the air Ranboo traces a sort of semi-circle with a line cutting through it. “It means safety and protection, but me placing it over your heart give it direct meaning.”
“What does that mean?” Tommy asks.
“Well, there’s passive use of magic- like when people leave certain scented candles burning or rearrange stones on their dresser or pray at altars. This magic usually lingers where it’s performed and the effect is lessened over time, whereas direct use is like, sun dances or summonings or carvings and spells. Most people place runes over their doorstep or sew it into their clothing, but by casting it on you directly, I’m giving you an extra layer of protection no matter where you are in relation to me, and no matter who is hurting you.”
“No one will,” Tommy says, not liking the upset shadow passing over Ranboo’s eyes.
“Yeah, but I can’t see the future and neither can you,” Ranboo sighs. “I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’d rather you be safe than feeling sorry.”
Tommy hesitates, then bows his head in acknowledgement, thinking of what he’d do if he found out Tubbo was hurt or Ranboo needed help and he couldn’t give it. His soul would feel torn- empty and aching. Of course he’d try anything to keep them safe down the line, of course. “That makes sense. Okay, I’m ready.”
Tommy closes his eyes and lifts his chin. Ranboo shifts, and Tommy feels the pads of Ranboo’s cold fingers brush at his cheek, in the place where he was hit. Somehow, even though Tommy didn’t bruise or mark up or anything, Ranboo outlines where the palm hit perfectly. Ranboo pulls away after a moment, muttering to himself.
Then, after a pause, the air stills and something feels charged. Buzzy, like a film of static around him. Tommy’s hair stands on end and grimaces until Ranboo reaches out and brushes a hand across Tommy’s forehead, and then across both cheekbones. The buzz around his head settles, seeping into his skin. Ranboo brushes down Tommy’s neck and stops between his collarbone. Then he pulls away and Tommy opens his eyes just in time to see Ranboo draw that mark in the air over his chest, and once it’s drawn, Ranboo lowers his hand, holding it against his heart.
“Safe.” Ranboo says, the buzz settles in, and Tommy’s next breath feels more secure than it ever has.
...
They walk back to Wilbur’s, Ranboo holding his hands out in front of him, cupping a bobbing white light, talking about pottery, because Tommy was honestly interested. He explains how pottery is in the same vein as wood carving and tapestry sewing- not inherently magical, but something that can be infused with spells and charms. Like food and baking. Tommy asks if Ranboo’d be willing to teach him sometime and Ranboo says of course- and then Tommy begrudgingly says that Wilbur can join them too.
“Tubbo too?”
“Guess so,” Tommy grumbles, resisting the urge to smile at the thought of sitting in a circle with his family and molding wet clay into lopsided magical bowls to gift to Wilbur- more magic for him to line up on his shelves. It sounds like a perfect afternoon, and would give Tommy a chance to flick paint at Tubbo annoyingly. “Sounds pog.”
They make it to the porch and Tommy waves Ranboo inside. Once he goes in, Tommy turns to the lawn.
“Hey,” He says, and the wind instantly picks up a little. “I- I’m sorry that I yelled the other day. Do- I was just a bit freaked out. I’m sorry.”
The wind blows harder, curving around him. Worried, she whispers, safe.
Tommy laughs softly. “I’m alright, I’m- I’m safe with these guys, they won’t let anything happen to me.”
The wind huffs, brushing at his previously hurt cheek, then ruffling his hair and then gently pushing him in the direction of the door. Safe, she whispers again, safe.
“Okay, okay,” Tommy grins. “I will. I will. Hush, I’m going. I’m going inside to- to my family.”
And he does.