Chapter Text
“Number nineteen, your order is ready!”
Tommy’s voice rang around the diner, echoing off the walls with its volume. He hadn’t meant to be that loud, but it was hard to control himself; his skin was buzzing with energy like a million little lightning bolts, lighting him up inside. Even in the relative quiet of the eleven PM shift, he felt like he could take on the lunch rush ten times over. He felt like he could run a marathon. He felt like he could bench press a thousand kilograms. Honestly, the boy just kind of wanted to zip out of his skin and run and run and run and-
“Thank you.” The customer smiled at him, and he smiled back, wide and excited. The customers were usually pretty nice at this time of day, but it was always good to have someone actually treat him like a person.
(Not that he should be, but that was a whole other issue.)
“You’re welcome! Thank you for eating at Big Diner!” Tommy chirped back, perking up at the little laugh he got in response. Beside him, he got a glare, lacking any true heat.
“Fuck, how many coffees did you down? It’s, like, midnight, how the fuck are you so chipper?” Wilbur, his co-worker, rubbed at brown eyes.
“No coffees,” Tommy laughed, sticking his tongue out. “I’m just better than you. So much better. Infinitely better.”
"No way, man. You definitely did something. What, was there no homework due so you slept early last night?"
“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” he told Wilbur truthfully. He actively avoided the topic of homework; that was a whole other can of worms. “Sat outside stargazing once my shift was over.”
"What the hell? You shouldn't even be moving right now! Go take a nap or some shit, man, I'll cover for you." Wilbur offered, which was a bit funny considering that man looked like he was about to fall asleep where he stood.
“Nah, I feel good. I think I could run a marathon right now. Want me to make you some coffee? Schlatt won’t have to know,” he offered. “You have morning classes tomorrow, right?”
Wilbur snorted. "I think even being near coffee will send you into shock, Tommy."
“Fuck you, I can be near coffee! Bitch!” He crossed his arms. “I’ll drink three liters, just to prove you wrong.”
"Please do not, I'll be the one having to deal with the fallout if you die."
“Mmm, yeah, but it would be funny!” Tommy grinned, wide and unbothered. These days were always the best. It was a shame that it always came before the worst.
Don’t think about it. Just enjoy your time before.
He cut through his older co-worker’s groan with a question, looking around the empty diner. “Hey, what’s the day?”
“Uh… the fifteenth, I think? Oh, you’re gonna be gone tomorrow, aren’t you?”
Tommy almost jolted back, surprised at the sudden statement. He wasn’t aware that Wilbur had been keeping track. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
"You always do." Wilbur answered. "Honestly, I don't know how you manage to get away with it. Schlatt bitches if I take just one sick day."
Oh, this was getting into uncomfortable territory. He laughed, though it was more to ease the awkwardness as he rubbed the back of his neck. The silver chain necklace around it burned his hand. “I’m just his favorite, you know? Absolutely. ‘Sides, I need the days. Part of our contract and all.”
“What do you use them for, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Tommy, in fact, did mind. Quite a lot, actually. “Um… private stuff, big man. That’s gonna have to be a mystery to you.”
"Sure, sure. But it's not like, something that'll kill you or some shit, right? Like, you're safe and everything?"
He snorted. “Feels like it will sometimes, but nah. I’m okay.” He stretched. The moon was so close to being full, his body pricked with anticipation and dread at once. Being a werewolf wasn’t exactly fun, but it was hard to defy the hormone shifts, the instincts to run, run, run until you drop from exhaustion. But he’d never get that. Not ever. Because the shifts took all his energy, all the strength from defying the silver that longed to keep him human. It was fucking excruciating. Honestly, it did kind of feel like he was dying every time.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help, alright?" Wilbur offered, and there was something in his eyes, a hint of understanding that made Tommy look away. He didn’t want his friend to know. Not like this.
“Doubt it.” He shrugged. “Just how things are, yeah?” And god, he really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. There was a reason why he kept his wolfishness to himself, and it wasn’t just for the fun of it.
Wilbur shrugged. "If you're sure. On the bright side, we only have a little while left until closing."
“Oh my god, you’re right!” He looked up at the clock on the wall, noting that it was, indeed, 11:58, which meant they had only about two minutes left. “Fucking finally, it feels like it’s been years,” he whined. “I’ve been wanting to go for a run for hours now.”
“A run? Fucking hell, Tommy, how do you have this much energy?” Wilbur asked with a small laugh.
He shrugged, giving a sheepish grin. “Guess it’s just how I am. I was born this way.” No, you weren’t. You were bitten.
“Guess so,” Wilbur agreed. “I mean, personally, I think it’s sort of cool. Like, obviously there's struggles that come with it, but it’s neat, you know? How people can have all these different experiences with life.”
He snorted, confused, as he opened the register to take the money of the day out. “What are you on about? Is that university philosophy class messing with your head?”
“Maybe it is, but my point still stands.”
“See, this is why I’m never going to uni,” he half-joked with a lopsided, wolfish grin.
"Why? You think they'll force you to take philosophy?" Wilbur shot back with a smile. "I mean, I might, but who knows."
Tommy laughed. “Partly, but mostly because Dr- uh, my guardian wants me to stay at home when I turn eighteen.” To make sure I don’t go feral, he didn’t say. Because he doesn’t trust me, he didn’t admit, even to himself.
Wilbur frowned. "Why? Are they like, super overbearing or something?"
He shook his head adamantly as he started to close up the shop, double-checking that everything was clean and ready for closing. “No, no. He’s good. A little strict, but good. He just doesn’t want me to, uh…” Fuck, how should he explain this? How should he say what he needed to say without Wilbur absolutely hating him? “He doesn’t want me to be alone for hard times.”
"I guess I can understand that, but I mean, you've gotta have experiences on your own. And honestly, some people don't even fully move out until they're fully prepared, which as a university, I can tell you I absolutely am not. I'm just lucky enough to have a stable job and a family that can support me well enough from a distance."
“And the best coworker ever?” At that, he got a hair ruffle, which he leaned into as much as he could without seeming clingy. “For real, though, I’m just… not a school person, you know? It’s just not for me.” It also didn’t help that he’d dropped out in freshman year because he couldn’t catch up with assignments with his monthly… issue.
"Well, if it's any consolation, a lot of universities and colleges are pretty accepting, not to mention most places have fairly customizable schedules."
His heart jackhammered into his throat. Fuck, did he know? How did he know? Tommy hadn’t been very subtle, but he wasn’t that obvious, was he? “Accepting?” He repeated, voice small.
Wilbur nodded, giving Tommy a soft smile. "Yeah, people can't get away with acting shitty towards you and all that. It varies from place to place, of course, but it's super hard to find."
“Really?” Was that actually an option? A university where nobody would care that he was a werewolf? That he was a monster? “But Dream- my guardian wouldn’t want me to go. I mean- that part of me isn’t something I should be flaunting around if I want respect. Fuck, he’d be upset if he even knew that you knew.ow”
“I say you shouldn’t give a shit what he thinks, then. If you’re happy being you, then you should be proud of that.”
“Happy’s an odd word for it,” he laughed awkwardly. They were both just finishing up in the diner, so Tommy held the door open for his friend. Wilbur walked through with a small nod of appreciation. “I mean, I’m just trying to get through life.”
"Well, you’re doing a good job of it. And I promise you, one day, you’ll really be happy, if I have any say in it. You’re a good kid. A good boy.”
Tommy squinted at him, utterly confused. “What the fuck am I, a dog?”
And oh, he realized. He was. That was… actually quite demeaning. Wilbur had seemed cool with him being a werewolf, but maybe there was actually some animosity. Fuck. Was it actually supposed to be a jab, or was Wilbur just stupid? That was the question.
Wilbur snorted. "No, no, I just meant it like, well… Nevermind. Let me know if you need anything, alright? You have my number, so you can call or text me at any time."
“Got it. See you later, big man.”
“See you, Tommy.”
—
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
Under the light of the afternoon sun, Tommy cracked his eyes open. That was immediately a mistake, because his head started pounding, worse than it usually did. His mouth was dry as the desert, and his body felt like it had been run over by a semi truck. Around his neck, a silver chain constricted his breathing.
Full moons always took absolutely everything out of him. The excess of energy he’d had just a day or two ago was completely wiped out, leaving him hardly able to move for a solid day.
Fuck, he really wanted to go to sleep, even with the buzzing of his phone.
But it was incessant, and his migraine wasn’t letting up, so, with far too much effort, he fumbled for the phone on the nightstand and answered it, mumbling out a sleepy sound that was supposed to be a ‘hello’, but ended up more as, “ellugh?”
“Hey, Tommy.” Wilbur’s voice crackled through the speakers. “How are you feeling?”
“Shit,” he mumbled, before promptly dropping his phone on his face. With another groan, he picked it up and tapped a few times on the screen until it turned to speaker mode. Fuck, he was so tired. He might actually pass out again. “Jus’ woke up.”
“...It’s six PM on a Saturday. I just got off work. How did you just wake up now?”
“Tired,” Tommy responded eloquently. He turned to look at the nightstand. On it was a glass of water, a silver key to unlock the shackle on his neck, and a note with Dream’s handwriting. If he was any more awake, he would have read it, but for now, he just mourned the lack of food. He was hungry as fuck. Honestly, he could probably eat an entire horse. Hooves and all. He would consume all of it.
But instead, he reached over and grabbed the key, unsuccessfully attempting to jam it into the shackle on his neck. The clink it made hurt his ears. And his hands. It was silver, after all.
"Did you run a marathon to get all that energy you had out or something?" Wilbur joked.
Tommy just gave a long groan, putting down the key in lieu of closing his eyes for a second. “Something like that.”
"Well, Mr. Sleepyhead, I was calling to see if now was an alright time to bother you, since I don't have anywhere else to be right now."
“You want to come see me?” That got his attention. With Dream gone, he was so lonely, all on his own, and he just wanted someone to bundle him up in a hug and hold him close. That wasn’t exactly what Wilbur was offering, he knew that, but his mind immediately jumped at the chance.
Pack, pack, pack. Company. Friend. Family.
"If you're feeling up to it, yeah. I might stop by the store if you want anything first, though?"
“Food?” Tommy requested, giving his best pleading eyes to the phone. “Feels like I haven’t eaten in months, I’m so fucking hungry. I’ll pay you back.”
Wilbur chuckled. "You don't need to worry about that, just tell me if you want anything specific."
“Meat. I don’t care what kind.” It just felt right, eating meat after a shift. Maybe then he could tear into it and finally feel strong again.
“Alright. I’ll get you bacon or something. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Wil.”
As he hung up, Tommy reached an uncomfortable conclusion. Right. He actually had to get up. He’d only gotten twelve hours of sleep, half of what he usually got after the full moon. Fuck, he really didn’t want to, but he kind of had to get up if he was going to hang out with Wilbur.
Fuck.
Sluggishly, he tried again with the key and the shackle, managing it after a solid three or four minutes of struggling. When it unlocked with a soft click, he pulled it off his neck and reached out for the silver band on his nightstand. But… well, he was in a lot of pain already, and surely his body’s own punishment for being a lycanthrope was bad enough? He’d just put the little circlet on when Dream came home. That was all. His guardian was out at work, so the human wouldn’t have to know. A bit of distress and excitement wriggled within his chest at the thought of disobeying, but he shoved it aside. Now, he’d just have fun with his friend. It would be fine.
Sluggishly, Tommy pulled himself up and stumbled to his dresser, grabbing out a red and white tee and some jeans. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he should put on his binder or not. He’d been binding quite a bit lately, longer than he probably should, but Wilbur didn’t exactly know he was trans and he didn’t want to spill another secret. With his mind made up, he grabbed it and changed quickly, flopping down on the bed again.
That took way more energy than it should have. The bed was soft, and his eyelids were heavy, and it was so comfortable that he just had to rest his eyes for a moment-
Knock, knock, knock.
Already? He’d just closed his eyes, this wasn’t fair. Wilbur was going to the store, so he’d be at least half an hour or so, right? But when Tommy cracked his eyes open, the clock read 7:15. Fuck, he was tired. Maybe more tired than before. Did he really have to go see his friend? Really?
Gods, if he were any worse of a friend, he would have left his co-worker by himself outside, but as it was, he shambled up and to the door. His room, all colored with red and white and little bits of neons, led out into the beige hall, decorated tastefully with green highlights. It was classy and nice and kind of fucking boring, especially when there were no paintings or posters or pictures in the halls. If Tommy was honest with himself, the main house was… impersonal. Dream was well-off, sure, but he never used any of it to make the house look lived in. He always insisted that they clean everything up, leaving no trace of their existence. Tommy could have his whirlwind of a room, but the rest of the place was doomed to be so impersonal it hurt to look at.
He turned and meandered through the kitchen to the door, prying it open. Wilbur was there, grocery bag in hand, and Tommy opened his mouth to greet him, though his tired, “hullo,” was interrupted by a yawn.
"Hey, Toms, how've you been?" Wilbur greeted with a smile.
“Asleep,” he mumbled out, blinking to try to wake himself up. “‘S been… thirteen hours, I think?”
Wilbur looked shocked. "And you're still tired?" Then, it was Tommy's turn to be surprised as a hand was pressed to his forehead. "Did you get sick or something?"
Tommy laughed, though he had to admit, he really enjoyed the contact. “I usually sleep, like, twenty hours or something. My record’s… thirty-one, I think? Dream got worried that time, hah.”
"For good reason, I would be too." Wilbur said as he took his hand away, much to Tommy's disappointment.
He huffed, but didn’t comment on it. “Why? I just need to get my energy back.”
"Yeah, most people do that in eight hours, not a whole day, Tommy."
The blonde shrugged. “I don’t sleep for a couple days before, it cancels out.”
"That's not-" Wilbur sighed, shaking his head. "Well, you at least ate enough before, right? Because fasting for a whole day is already rough on your body without you burning all that energy."
“I don’t not try to,” he defended himself with something that sounded embarrassingly close to a whine. “I eat beforehand, I just- a normal amount, you know? And we don’t have a lot of snacks hanging around.” It never seemed like enough, though. With the intense transformation, a normal or even fairly hearty dinner just wasn’t enough to keep him feeling full for the next day or two. The curse of being a werewolf.
"Well, that's what all this is for then, isn't it?" Wilbur asked, motioning with the bag. "I should probably get started with cooking it so you don't have to wait any longer. Although I might need help finding everything."
“You’re my fucking hero,” he said before he could think better of it, shambling into the kitchen and grabbing out the pans. The laugh behind him caused his ears to redden, but he didn’t retract the statement. “I’ll help wash up everything, ‘cause I know how Dream likes it and where to put things. He’s really particular about that kind of shit.”
"Of course he is." Tommy could imagine an eye roll just by Wilbur's tone of voice. "I mean, at least it keeps things tidy, I've been told my cabinets are set up like death traps."
“Please don’t fuck up the cabinets,” Tommy snorted, reaching down to grab the pans. He hardly had the strength to pull it up, and the silver studs on his ears made it hard to think with how much he focused on the itching, burning sensation. Once he put the pan down, he reached towards them, considering his options. If Dream were to see this, he’d be just as upset that he didn’t wear more silver. If he was taking a break from the little band of silver he kept on his head, surely it wouldn’t do anything to remove the earrings, right? So, wordlessly, he pulled them from his ears, nearly sighing at the relief once the corrosive metal was gone.
Wilbur let out a small hiss. "Ouch, you might want to switch out the metal you use with those."
“That bad?” He asked, because if it looked as bad as it felt, that definitely wouldn’t do for being discreet.
Wilbur nodded. "Yeah. Honestly I don't know how you can stand wearing those all the time if that's what it does to you."
“Dream gave them to me a while ago, they’re silver. He likes it when I war them, but they get itchy a lot.” As Tommy spoke, he placed the studs in his pocket, watching Wilbur take out the bacon and place it onto the pan. Even looking at it raw made his stomach clench with anticipation, wanting to scarf down the meat before it was cooked.
"Well, you shouldn't wear them if they're hurting you. The design looks pretty simple anyways, so it shouldn't be too hard to find a match."
He shook his head adamantly. “It’s a gift. Besides, you’ve done enough. If you want to do anything more, I’m paying you back, because you’re a broke college student that should absolutely not be wasting his money on taking care of me.”
"Who said I was broke?! I have enough money that I can spoil my friends a bit. Although this is more of a necessity than a gift, you're just bad at taking care of yourself."
“Am not!” Tommy sputtered. To go with the bacon, he made his way to the fridge and grabbed some eggs, leaving them on the side of the stove. “I’ve just got rules.”
"Any rule that actively harms you is a bad one," Wilbur shot back. "And if your guardian can't see that, it's also a rule worth breaking."
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Wilbur leaned over and ruffled his hair. The bacon was sizzling now, and he wanted to bask in this moment. Being fed, being touched, being around one of his favorite people in the world… this was good. This was really good.
He leaned heavy into the touch, closing his eyes. These moonsickness days were infected with a constant whine at the back of his head for affection, and this was hitting the spot perfectly.
“Careful!” Wilbur’s voice shook him out of his contentment, making him realize he’d almost fallen over, asleep on his feet.
“Sorry,” he croaked out. “‘M sorry. I’m really tired, man. I always am, this time of month.” He broached the subject carefully, testing the waters. If Wilbur knew, he wanted to know what his friend felt about it.
Wilbur nodded. "I can imagine. It's rough, isn't it? Having to go through that all the time?"
“Fucking hell, yeah. It hurts a shit ton, man. ‘S why I have to sleep it off for so long.” He scooted a bit closer so that he was next to his friend, watching the bacon sizzle. “I fucking hate it. It’s awful, and it makes me feel like shit, and if I could get rid of it, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
"Yeah, one of my friends in class absolutely hates hers. From the way she describes it, it sounds miserable."
Tommy blinked, feeling a bit warm. Wilbur had another werewolf friend? Really? “What’d she say about it? Like, how does she deal with all of the power outages and all that?”
"Well, I haven't really asked all that much, since I figured it was sort of personal, but I can next time I see her if you want?" Wilbur offered.
“I dunno if it is or not. I mean, with Dream being the way he is about… all that, I haven’t really been able to get much information about it. There’s some stuff online, yeah, but a lot of people have a lot of different opinions. It’s hard to find things for people like me, you know?”
Wilbur’s eyes were soft, full of pity and sympathy. “Mhm. Being trans isn’t exactly easy, is it?”
It was funny how one sentence could cause Tommy’s entire mind to bluescreen like a shitty old computer. He blinked once, then twice, trying to figure out how the hell Wilbur found out he was trans from their conversation about werewolves.
Unless… they were never talking about werewolves at all. Fuck, Tommy was stupid. He just completely misread the situation, and narrowly avoided by pure chance something that Wilbur would probably hate him for. It was good that the man didn’t hate him for being trans, but neither did Dream. Lycanthropy was a much bigger sin. But now, he was stuck in a lie, because he decidedly did not have periods anymore, not after being on T for three or four years.
And, fuck, now Wilbur was staring at him, waiting for a response, and Tommy could only blurt out a forced, “yeah, it’s kind of shit sometimes.”
"Well," Wilbur started with a grin, "you have me now. The perfect role model."
“You’re definitely not perfect.” He stuck his tongue out. “Unless I wanted to be the type of man that’s a dramatic fucker.” At the noise of offense, Tommy laughed. “Hey, I’m not the one who talked for thirty minutes about how his crush was just soooo perfect-”
"Well, it's true! Honestly, she'd probably adore you, but I'm a bit worried that you two will find some way to achieve world domination in a single night." Wilbur joked.
“Definitely.” Tommy looked at the pan, noting that it was that perfect kind of crunchy. “Bacon? Is it done?”
“Let me do the eggs, first. Be patient.”
Tommy let out a whine and leaned against Wilbur, digging his face into the man’s yellow sweater. “You’re starving me. This is just cruel, I’m a starving man and you tell me to wait for eggs?!”
"Yes, they only take a few minutes, which is enough time for you to like, set the table or something."
He took down two plates from the cabinet and two forks from the silverware drawer, placing them on the counter so his friend could split the bacon onto them. One plate got significantly more. “I wanna eat, though!”
"You can wait, Tommy. It's almost ready, keep begging and I'll add on toast too, just to make you wait longer."
He squinted for a second, pretending to be complacent, before snatching a piece of bacon from the plate with more and retreating to the couch, tearing into his prize with the smuggest expression he could muster. With his mouth full of the savory meat, he leaned back into the tan cushions. “Fuck you, I win.”
"Oh? But for how long can you keep that title, hm?" Wilbur questioned, and before Tommy knew it, he was being squished as Wilbur body slammed him into the couch.
Tommy laughed and squirmed, trying to push him off. The aggression wasn’t real, and the contact was actually quite comforting, but Wilbur didn’t need to know the second part. “Get off me! You’re going to burn the eggs, dumbass!” He shouted, wide grin betraying his actual feelings.
"They're still good with a bit of crunch." Wilbur shrugged, a grin on his own face mirroring Tommy's.
“ Ewww,” he giggled, squirming again. “Get the eggs, I’ll fight you later, promise.”
“You better not tackle me off my chair, Gremlin.” Wilbur snorted, sitting up and freeing Tommy as he went back to the kitchen to finish up their food.
“Mmm, no promises.” He slunk into his chair, grinning all the while.
Dinner was usually a silent affair. Dream didn’t like talking much when they ate, but this was totally different. Wilbur laughed and joked and only ever told him off to warn him to pace himself with the food. Plus, Tommy got the plate with more food, so that was fucking awesome! Still, despite that, he managed to scarf it all down before Wilbur finished his, and he spent the extra time gently kicking the man’s legs and antagonizing him in increasing intervals until-
“That’s it.” Wilbur stood up, not even finished with his food. Tommy backed up to the couch, kicking out at his friend, who had that glimmer of mischief in his eyes. Finally, he’d pestered Wilbur enough for play-fighting. And sure enough, Wilbur launched himself at Tommy, hands outstretched to wrestle. The werewolf yelped and shoved back, trying to get his friend pinned down onto the couch. Unfortunately, his strength was not enough, because he was dumped unceremoniously onto the tan sofa and sat on once more, this time with no eggs to hold back his assailant.
“Noooo, Wil, lemmie gooooo,” he whined, not really wanting to be let free at all. The pressure, as squishing as it was, was kind of nice. If he could get Wilbur to lay down, it would be perfect.
“What’s that? I can’t hear you, you’ll need to speak up.” Wilbur teased.
“Wiiiiiiiil.” He drew out the word, making it as long as he could. “This isn’t fair, lemmie go! Wilby-”
“Aww, Tommy! You gave me a nickname? That’s so sweet!” Wilbur grinned. “I think you should be compensated for that, but since I’ve already fed you, the only other viable option is affection, so,” Tommy let out a surprised squawk as he was practically crushed. “You are now stuck here for the foreseeable future.”
He tried to complain, but he found that he was far, far too content for that. He hadn’t meant to call his friend that, but if this was the result, well… he could handle being a little embarrassed by the cooing. His pride was not worth losing this, especially as he buried his head into the crook of Wilbur’s neck. It was so soft, so nice, that he dropped the tone of playful argument to mumble, “I wish you were my brother.”
Wilbur froze, then sighed, pulling Tommy closer. “Well, who says I can’t be, hm?”
“The system, probably.” He laughed, a bit teary. “We’re just… not. It’s how things work.” It hurts.
“Fuck the system, man. I say if we wanna be brothers, then that makes us brothers.”
He felt his chest rise like a balloon, and he closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of stale coffee and Wilbur’s laundry detergent. It was nice. “We’re brothers,” he repeated, softer.
“Damn right we are, and we’ll stay that way if I have anything to say about it.” Wilbur murmured.
The warmth was so all-encompassing that sleep lapped at his mind again, pulling him down no matter how hard he tried to resist it. “‘M tired,” he warned. “Might end up falling asleep.”
“Again?” Wilbur asked with a small laugh. “Alright, I’m pretty tired myself, anyway.”
That was all the permission he needed to curl up close and let his eyes flutter shut, feeling safer and more cared for than he ever had.
---
Wilbur drifted in and out of consciousness for a few short hours. It was nice; this was the weekend for him, no responsibilities, and he wouldn’t want to spend it any other way. Tommy was curled up next to him, sleeping with a few soft snuffling noises here or there. He was perfectly content, more so than Wilbur had ever seen him.
His little brother. It had a nice ring to it, he had to admit.
The brunette scrolled through social media mindlessly, running his hand through Tommy’s hair as the blonde dozed. The perfect position to protect, but not to fuss. It was peaceful and tender and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Unfortunately, in his contentment, he forgot a key detail: Tommy wasn’t the only member of this household. And as the jingle of keys came from outside the door, he remembered that fact in perfect clarity.
Fuck.
“Tommy?” He gently shook his little brother’s shoulder. The teen’s face scrunched, and he weakly reached up to put a hand on the man’s face.
“Mmmno, sl’p,” he mumbled out, curling closer to press his face into Wilbur’s sweater.
“I know, but I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to deal with your… Dad? I’m not really sure what he is to you, to be honest, but it sounds like he’s home.” Wilbur said quietly.
“No’s not. C’mes home ‘t ten.”
Wilbur checked his phone screen, and, sure enough, it read 10:26.
“Tommy, it’s half past ten right now. You’ve been asleep for almost three hours now.”
“Nooooo,” he grumbled, pulling closer. As sweet as it was, they really, really needed to do something. But before Wilbur could gently guide Tommy to wakefulness, the door opened. That seemed to catch the boy’s attention, but it was too late. The door opened, revealing a man clad in green. The two stared at each other, the younger’s eyes suddenly wide. “Uhh… hi, Dream?”
“ What are you doing?” Dream’s voice wasn’t deep and brash, nor soft and light. It was somewhere in the middle, but it was… cold. Lacking kindness.
“Um… I, uh- I told you about Wilbur, right? Work friend? He… dropped by. I didn’t think it would be long, honest.” As Tommy spoke, his hand came to grip Wilbur’s arm tight. He seemed scared.
“Hello, I just dropped by to check on To- your s- child?” Wilbur greeted awkwardly, unsure of what terms to use to avoid potentially outing Tommy or getting him in some sort of trouble. He’d heard of how some parents were, and he’d rather at least try to play it safe. And considering how Tommy had implied Dream was, he really didn’t want to risk it.
“I appreciate it.” Dream gave a tight-lipped smile. “But I think it’s time for your visit to be over. Tommy needs to sleep.”
Now, Wilbur didn’t want to be rude, but he also didn’t want to leave. Not with any potential danger staying behind to hurt Tommy, although, he did let out a small sigh of relief at the fact that it at least seemed to be safe to use Tommy’s name. “He has been pretty tired, huh? I’m honestly surprised anyone can manage to sleep for so long.”
The pronoun was out of his mouth before he could think better of it, but Dream just nodded. “He has a special talent, doesn’t he?” The man’s green eyes flicked over to the table, still with plates on it, and he snorted. Honestly, he didn’t seem unkind. “One for being messy, too. I swear, I always have to clean up after him.”
“Oh, sorry, that was a bit my fault.” Wilbur quickly explained. “I figured he’d be hungry after sleeping for so long, so I got something to cook on my way over. I can help clean up, if you would like?” The offer was both an excuse to stay longer, and a way to potentially get to know Dream better, because he knew first impressions weren’t always correct, and he still couldn’t quite shake the fear he’d seen in Tommy when Dream first arrived, even though his friend seemed to be calmer now.
“If you’d like. Tommy, are you going to head back up to your room and go to sleep?” Dream gave the boy a smile, and he tentatively smiled back. “Oh, and don’t forget that jewelry you always like.”
“Right, yeah, sorry. Um, g’night, Wil. I’ll see you when I’m back to work.” Tommy turned and gave the brunette a hug, tight and affectionate.
“I’ll see you later, get some good rest, alright?” Wilbur murmured, ruffling Tommy’s hair.
He nodded, and before he disappeared behind the hallway corner, Wilbur saw him take something out of his pocket.
“And then there were two,” Dream commented with a hum. The man made his way over to the table. His hair was cropped and dirty blonde, and he was dressed quite nicely in a white shirt and deep green pants. “So, what brought you over tonight?”
Wilbur shrugged. "Well you know, Tommy has a tendency to be away from work for quite a few days at a time each month, so I can't help but get worried. Especially since he's not always the best at answering texts."
Dream nodded. “It’s a health condition of his. I can’t go into much more detail, but it’s something he’s been struggling with for a little less than three years now, since he was fourteen. Rest assured, he’s got it under control, and I’m doing everything I can to help him.”
"Right…" Maybe there was more to it than just transitioning, but Wilbur couldn't be sure. "I guess that makes sense, I mean, our boss isn't the most understanding person, so it's probably a bit extreme that it actually gets him to back off long enough for Tommy to get these obviously needed breaks."
“Exactly.” The man took the two plates in his hands and started towards the kitchen. “He’s only able to get those because he needs them for medical purposes. Again, I can’t go in depth, but we’ve devised a way to make things easier.”
Wilber nodded. “That’s good. And I’m sorry if I press too much, I just worry about him. He’s a good kid.”
“He is. I’m glad he has a friend in his work. He hasn’t been able to make many more of those since he dropped out and all.”
“It can be difficult,” Wilbur agreed. “I actually thought he was still in school, but I guess it makes sense that he’s not, given the work hours he has.”
“Ah. Well, he did, freshman year. I was disappointed, naturally, but some people can’t handle the workload, I suppose. Nothing much I can do.” He shrugged as he dumped the few eggs and a strip of bacon from the plate, turning on the faucet to wash the porcelain.
Wilbur hummed. That seemed a bit harsh, but maybe there was a reason for it. “If that’s the case, I’m surprised he kept working instead. He’s great to have around, don’t get me wrong, but I figure education would come first.”
“It was either start working or continue school, and he chose to start working. It was an interesting choice, but again, it’s not like I can help much. It’s his life, at the end of it.”
“Well, I’m glad you seem pretty supportive, then. At least from what I’ve seen so far.” Wilbur commented. “Also, if you don’t mind me asking, are you two related? By blood, I mean. Because you look very similar, but you seem a bit young to be his parent.”
“No, no. I’m his adoptive parent. Used to be a foster, but things worked out. He came to me when he was around eight or so, and things have been pretty good ever since.”
This was… confusing. By all means, Dream was a good guy. He was well-spoken, kind, supportive, and not at all like what Wilbur had thought. Why would Tommy be scared?
Maybe he was scared that you’d find out he was lying, his mind whispered, and as horrible as the thought was… it was a real possibility. After all, Tommy hadn’t told him a lot of things, apparently.
“I’m glad, it seems like you’re doing a pretty good job.” He replied, but the notion that he was missing some large puzzle piece nagged at him. Sure, maybe it was nothing, but it was just as possible that Tommy didn’t trust him as much as he thought.
“I try,” Dream laughed. “Sorry for the harsh entrance. He’s gotten into this bad habit where he never tells me when his friends are coming over, and with his condition, I was a bit worried for him, but you seem like a good influence on him.”
“Well, I did stop by pretty unannounced, even to him, so I should probably take the blame on that part too.”
“If you have any questions about him, feel free to ask. I love the kid to death, but sometimes, he can be… less than honest. He tends to bend the truth sometimes to make things look different than they are. I’ve been trying to help him deal with it, but it’s another thing that’s hard to help. Mental disorders come with his condition, and one of them is, well… it’s hard to put nicely, but he lies more than the average person, sometimes for no reason.”
That sounded rough to deal with, but Wilbur’s own experiences with Tommy had always been fairly pleasant, so he wasn’t sure how severe it could actually be. “You said he was a foster before, right? Maybe some of it comes from back then. I’ve heard the system doesn’t always treat kids how they deserve, after all.”
“I think so. Really, it’s not very severe at all. Mostly, it’s just implications or going along with what someone else says, especially when it comes to his medical records and gaining sympathy. I assume he told you some reason about why he was out for so long every month?”
“Not really, I just assumed it had to do with him being trans and all.” Wilbur replied, keeping an eye on Dream’s face for any change in expression at the words.
“Ah. That’s true, at least. He must trust you to tell you that, but that’s not the reason. He’s been on testosterone for years now. It shows in the way he passes, I would have thought.”
“Oh, of course I just figured that was the most logical conclusion.” Wilbur explained. “He probably just went along with it since you both seem to want to keep the actual issue under wraps, which I understand, it’s easier than trying to explain every single time I’m sure.”
Dream nodded. “That makes sense. Well, I’m glad he hasn’t been lying. We’ve really tried to work on that.” The man gave him a smile. “You’re welcome over anytime. Just as long as you tell me, first.”
“Of course,” Wilbur nodded, returning a smile of his own and taking his phone out of his pocket. “We should probably exchange numbers then, just because I’m not certain how well Tommy might remember to mention it if I only talk to him about coming over.”
“Good idea.”
And as they cleaned the remnants of dinner up and Dream chatted with Wilbur about all sorts of stories and memories, Wilbur couldn’t help but think that this was a much better reality, that despite Tommy’s lies, this was the best possible situation. After all, it was just a misunderstanding.
---
Tommy held a pillow close to his chest, staring at the floor as his guardian sat at the end of the bed. He bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, despite Dream not saying anything at all. The tension in the air was near-unbearable.
“I’m very disappointed.” Dream’s voice cut through the thick silence, and Tommy nodded, swallowing heavily. He didn’t dare speak. “I’ve given you everything you need or want. I’ve tried to help you the best I can. I’ve prevented you from living on the streets or going feral, and you’re still trying to replace me?”
“I’m not-” He started, but the harsh glare he got cut him off. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You should be. I mean, really, I do all of this for you, to keep you safe. You’re lucky I even let you keep that job, every hour you spend out there is a risk, you could hurt someone. Just because you don’t look like a wolf all the time, that doesn’t mean those instincts aren’t still there.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I really am. I just- I wasn’t thinking, and I was lonely-”
“So you couldn’t have just waited for me to get home? You were asleep the entire day, whether another person is there or not shouldn’t make a difference. And it was especially stupid for you to let him over right after a moon. What if you’d done something? Lost control and hurt him? Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up turning him!” Dream shouted. “And out of the two of us, who do you think is going to have it worse in that situation? You, who can claim to be just a kid who doesn’t know any better, or me, whose responsibility it is to keep you under control?”
“I wouldn’t!” Tommy all but begged, reaching out. Dream grabbed his wrist in a tight grip, and Tommy was reminded all too suddenly that he wasn’t wearing the silver he was supposed to be wearing.
“You wouldn’t? Just like you promised you wouldn’t take off your silver?” Dream questioned. “At this point, I don’t think you’re a very good judge of what you would or wouldn’t do, Tommy.”
“It hurts,” he tried to defend himself, pulling back to no avail. “It’s itchy and sore and the circlet always gives me a headache. It’s like I can’t think with it on!”
“Because it’s doing what it’s supposed to! It keeps you from losing control and doing something you shouldn’t.”
“Everything hurts after a full moon, I can’t stand silver on top of it. I haven’t done anything at all, how do you know I will?” As he spoke, Dream reached over and clasped a silver bracelet over his wrist. It felt like it was burning.
“You’re putting some slight discomfort over your life, and the lives of other people.” Dream replied. “And where did you put your earrings? If you keep taking all of it off I’m going to find a way to make that impossible.”
“I lost them,” he lied before he could think better of it. He really didn’t want to put them back on. Those ones hurt the worst. “At- at work. Wilbur noticed that my piercings were red, so I took them off and set them down somewhere. Next thing I know, they’re gone.”
That wasn’t how it happened. No, he’d taken them out of his pocket and put them in the deepest fucking crevices of his drawer, because even trying to put them in his ears felt like voluntary torture.
Dream stared at him for a long moment, quiet and analyzing in a way that made Tommy’s heart pound, before scoffing and shaking his head. “Right. If you don’t find them, then we’re going to get replacements when we both have free time. You’re paying for them.”
“What? But I already give most of my paychecks to you! I don’t have much saved up, not enough for real silver.”
“Well then, you better hope you find them.”
“That’s not fair, ” he complained. “It was a mistake, I just lost them! I have so many other silver things, why do I have to wear earrings, too? They hurt, and even with studs, they’re really feminine. The new ones might even be worse!”
“Plenty of guys wear earrings, Tommy.” Dream replied. “I’ll let you pick them out if it really upsets you that much.”
“But I don’t like wearing earrings at all. I can hide necklaces and shit, but they’re right there on my ears.” It wasn’t actually that big of an issue, but this was the only thing he could think of.
“Fine. You know what? Fine. You can either get new earrings or twice the amount of piercings in other places, paid for with your own money. I’m fine with either.”
Fuck. The first few weeks were always the worst, because he couldn’t take them off at all. And sure, a snake bite or a brow piercing might be cool, but it would hurt like fuck and cost more than he had saved up. It was always about how it hurt and not about how it looked, and Dream knew it. The smug look on his face was indication of that.
Bitterly, he looked down. “I’ll just… try to look for the old ones.”
“No, no, I thought you didn’t like them. Why else would you whine like that?”
“I’m not- Look, it’s not that big of a deal-”
“Then don’t make it one.” Dream hissed.
“Can’t you just accept that I don’t want to do this?!” Tommy pleaded. “It hurts! ”
“You know what’s going to hurt worse? When you finally think it’s safe to take away all that I’ve done to protect you, and someone else ends up seeing what you really are, and kills you.”
“I’m still a person,” he tried, before pushing himself back against the wall as Dream leaned forward.
“Are you?” Dream asked. “Do you think anyone else will see you that way the moment they know? Do you think your friend would ever even want to stick around if he found out?”
“He cares,” Tommy tried weakly. “He does. He wouldn’t hate me.”
Dream sighed, pityingly. “You don’t know that. You were lucky I wasn’t one of the people who would, do you really think you’ll get that lucky a second time?”
And, well… he was right, wasn’t he? The odds were bad. Dream accepted him being trans, being a lycanthrope, without even batting an eye, and here he was, being ungrateful. God, he really was pathetic, wasn’t he? So desperate for attention? Sometimes, he just hated this. Hated himself, for not being what Dream wanted him to be. He felt like a fucking mistake.
“There we go. Now you’re starting to realize, aren’t you?” Dream asked softly. “He won’t like you if he finds out, but I still will. I want to help you.”
“I know,” Tommy sniffled, suddenly feeling like he wanted to cry. “I- fuck, this was stupid. I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”
“You are,” Dream confirmed. “But that’s what I’m here for, to keep you on the right track.”
Tommy stared at the sheets clenched under his palms. A question bubbled into his throat “Why did you keep me? I mean, after I got turned, they- they told you you could give me up, why didn’t you take that? If you hate me so much, if I’m so bad, then why…?”
“Oh, Tommy, no,” Dream started, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Tommy’s ear. “I don’t hate you, I don’t think I ever could. You might not see it like I do right now, but this is to keep you safe. The thing that causes you to turn, it’s unpredictable, anything could happen because of it, so I have to do what I can until we find a more permanent solution.”
“Permanent solution?” He repeated weakly.
“Well… I haven’t found too much yet, but there’s apparently some cures. I just want to be sure they’re safe first.”
That caught his attention. “Really? I can- I can be normal again? I can be human?” Please. Please, he begged any god that would listen. Let there be something that fixes me. Let me be good again. Let me good enough for Dream, for Wilbur or Tubbo or Ranboo. I’m letting everyone down by being like this. “I fucking hate this part of me. I’ll do anything to get rid of it.”
“Well, if you want to try the few I’ve found, we can. But I don’t guarantee that they’ll work.”
“I’ll do it,” he said immediately. “And- and I’ll find those earrings.” He put enough emphasis on the word to signal what he’d done with the earrings. He hadn’t lost them at all. Dream seemed to pick up on it, and he seemed a bit annoyed, but he seemed to go with the narrative.
"Good, we can start tomorrow then. For now, you should rest. I know the change takes a lot out of you, and you've already been up for longer than you should."
“Thank you, Dream.” He reached out to hug his guardian, but the man was slipping out of the door before he could do anything. He knew he deserved it, the lack of touch, but even if it was right, it didn’t feel like it.
Why had disobeying felt so good? And why did it feel so horrible now that he was being good again?