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Chapter Text

Tommy swung his bruised legs boredly, occasionally scuffing his shoes on the bland, threadbare rug.  The rug was familiar, and not just because it was the same brown speckled, could-have-coffee-spilled-on-it-and-look-the-same thing that every cheapskate business used.  He’d been in here after every bad house (and good house, because he never stayed) , so this was hardly the first time he patched himself up in here.

In fact, the only time he hadn’t been brought back to Angela’s office was when he’d been taken out of the foster house in an ambulance.  

(Apparently, a child being kept in a kennel for three days was unignorable, and he had to get treated for a myriad of injuries and dehydration.  Definitely one of the crappier houses)  

Tommy cleaned the blood of his fingers and bandaged his arms.  The last family-a human couple, with albeit, unusually sharp nails (maybe there was something inhuman mixed in somewhere down the line), had been fine until Tommy inevitably shifted.  Then, suddenly, he was “threatening” and they “had to restrain him somehow.”  He was lucky his fur protected him from the worst of it.

Being a werewolf was one of the things that protected him through the worst of his homes, but was also the cause of so many problems.

(Or maybe that was just Tommy.)

As she had the many times they’d done this before, Angela entered the office with a small sigh, hands fluttering through paperwork.

 “I got someone to take you,” Angela told him, “Please, please- try to stay at least to the end of the month.  I don’t think I’d be able to place you so close to Thanksgiving.”  Tommy nodded.

“You know,” he said, quietly, “I don’t try …”

“I know Tommy,” Angela said, as Tommy wrapped the last bandage around his arms and put his hoodie back on, “I know.”

-

There wasn’t a moment in Tommy’s life where his goal in homes had flipped from “being lovable” to “being tolerable.” 

(He didn’t want to make the step to “being pitied” because if there was anything Tommy despised, it was pity aimed towards him)

He just learned it, he supposed, the same way he learned to talk, carefully watching and listening to the people around him.  

So he toned down his mannerisms, his instincts.  He avoided family spaces, even when he felt comfortable, because if he let himself pretend to have that affection, that love, pack, it would break him to return to reality.  They don’t want you anyway, he reminded himself.

The bad ones-the people that hated him because he was a werewolf, because he wasn’t the same as them-they were easier to steel himself against.  They wouldn’t want anyone else like him.  It was-well it was crap, but it wasn’t personal.

If a good person tossed Tommy out, then it was because Tommy was bad, and there patience for his screw ups had run dry.

Tommy wondered which one his new home would be.

(He wondered which one he would prefer)

Sometime during his musing, the car had lurched to a stop, and Angela had cracked open her door.

“Tommy.”

“Coming.”  He hefted his bag out from between his legs and followed her to the door.  It was freaking pouring, which meant he was going to have the faint, lingering smell of wet dog on him, and wasn’t that a brilliant first impression.

Even from the outside of the home, Tommy could see that the family really cared about appearances, or at very least, gardening.  The sidewalk to their front door was lined with flowers, and a small plot of them spiraled across the front lawn.  Huh.  Nice.  Their scent was a little strong, due to the heightened strength of Tommy’s nose, but not bad.  They’d probably look better once they weren’t being absolutely pelted with water.

Ew.  Now his bag was wet.

He hurried underneath his new foster family’s awning.

Angela knocked, and a fairly young man opened the door.  Far older than Tommy, but not old enough to be his father.  The second thing Tommy noticed about him was that he had wings, and, once they were no longer obscured by the wooden doorway, they were huge (That, at very least, meant he was probably safe toward magical creatures, possibly including werewolves.  Then again, some people hadn't been in the past so ...)   He introduced himself as Phil and ushered both of them inside out of the rain.

“You can leave your shoes by the door to dry,” Phil said-instructed (it was always safer to assume it was an instruction) amiably, “I can get paperwork sorted at the kitchen table, and you can get on your way before the weather gets any worse.”

After Tommy toed off his soaked sneakers, he stood awkwardly in the empty room.  Glancing around, he could see the family was-chaotically put together was probably the best way he could phrase it.  There were knick-knacks and pictures everywhere, of the winged man-Phil, and two other people, whose level of child-ness changed depending on the photo.

The living room also had a giant freaking … nest?  Nest was probably the best way to describe it.  Probably because at least one of the family members was an avian.  It was a vaguely organized mess of blankets and what was probably clothing and pillows throw together.  It looked very … inviting.  Warm.

(It looked like a whole home.)

Tommy shook his head, trying to literally shake the thoughts from his head.  They were stupid.  He wasn’t family-and he wasn’t going to be.  Besides, he was a werewolf, and werewolves had packs (though that would be a spectacular place for a cuddle-pile).  Well, most of them did.  Tommy was a Big Man, so he … didn’t.

Not wanting to get in trouble for snooping, Tommy made the executive decision to follow Phil and Angela’s voices.  He could probably awkwardly hover in the kitchen until his paperwork was sorted, and Phil had to decide what to do with the temporary new kid he’d acquired.

He didn’t make it to the kitchen.  Instead, he slammed into a very tall, very alive pole of a person and promptly fell over.

“I’m sorry,” the person said, not even hesitating to put his hands around Tommy in order to stop the younger boy from falling, “Are you alright?”

Tommy ignored the tingling sensation his shoulders felt from where he’d just been righted.

“Fine,” he said quietly.

“Good, that’s-I’m glad.  Did Dad just leave you in here?  Soaked?”

“I wasn’t dripping,” Tommy defended, because he had only been here for five minutes.  He wasn’t going to screw it up by immediately being accused of destroying their floor.

“Okay?”  The boy said, sounding a little weirded out, “You’re Tommy then.”  He still sounded friendly, despite Tommy’s obvious screw up.  “I’m Wilbur.  I can show you where the kitchen is, if you want, and then show you your room so you can get dry clothes on.”

“Alright.”  Tommy wasn’t familiar with the house yet, not nearly enough so to be spouting jokes and swears and more than one word answers at the foster family.

He needed to stay through Thanksgiving, so that, at very least, he wouldn’t be a bigger problem to Angela.

-

“Technoblade is out of the house at the moment,” Wilbur said as Tommy followed him up the stairs, “But he’s my younger brother.  Not as cool as me, but I’m sure you’ll get along all right.”  Tommy just nodded, being sure to be as agreeable as possible.  The later Tommy showed his actual personality, the longer he got to stay.

Unlike Phil, Wilbur looked mostly human at first glance, only his brown eyes weren’t quite … right for a human’s.  They almost seemed to glow, even in the dimness surrounding them outside and made him even more intimidating than his height and fashion sense already did.

(Seriously, who looked ready to go about in their own home.  Who wore turtlenecks?  Tommy felt suffocated when he even thought about wearing on.)

“If you need anything, feel free to ask any of us.  And if you need anything for your wolfiness, just let us know.  Phil’s used to different magic stuff, so it won’t be a big deal.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said, while Wilbur stopped in front of an open door.

“Here’s your room, I’ll let you get settled for a bit.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said again, not wanting to risk saying anything else.  Just because everything had been going smoothly so far, and Wilbur was being nice, didn’t mean it would stay that way.

Foster families were like the weather.  You could try to predict them, but there was always a chance that you’d be wrong.

Tommy had two problems.  He’d changed out of his soaked clothing, but, unfortunately, his only hoodie was now soaked, so he was going to be cold.  That wasn’t a big issue, and Tommy could deal with that easily without interrupting his foster family.

The wet clothes were a bit of an issue.  The floor was rug, and he really didn’t want to risk it like, molding or something and getting in trouble.  While he’d been planning on staying in this room for the rest of time, or at least until the end of November (because yeah, that was feasible), he needed to go find out what to do with the clothes.

He creeped out silently, a mixture of predator instincts and past experiences combining into some Big Man stealth.  Wilbur told me I could ask them for help, he assured himself, like that wasn't just something that people said to sound nice, this probably isn’t a big deal to them.

“Hey, Tommy,” Phil said, when Tommy stepped into the living room.  Phil was sorting through the-his nest.

“Sorry,” Tommy said.  Phil smiled, and Tommy instantly felt at ease, before he came to and refocused himself, “I just-I needed somewhere to put my wet clothes.

“I’ll wash them for you, mate,” Phil told him, “Just throw them in the laundry room, down the hallway, first door to the right.  I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks.”  Tommy dumped his clothes in the laundry room and returned quietly as ever.  He watched Phil for a moment, even though he knew it was risky (and probably rude).

Whatever.  The nest soothed his dumb werewolf instincts, even though he knew rationally this wasn’t his home.  Nope, his inner wolf just saw the “family bonding thing” and went rabid.

“You alright?” Phil asked once he noticed Tommy staring.  Tommy blushed, embarrassed, and shook himself out of zoning.

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, before his body shivered, still cold even though he’d changed, “Just cold.  I’ll warm up though.”  Phil made a noise of agreement.

“Mmhm, come over here for a second.”  Awkwardly, Tommy approached Phil, who was wrestling far more aggressively with the nest than he had a minute ago.

“Here, everyone in the family wears this, and it’s pretty comfortable.”

Tommy gripped the hoodie that Phil tossed him.  It was soft and probably very warm and eons better than freezing.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.  We’ll have to get you more.”

Tommy slipped upstairs and snuggled into his hoodie once he was out of sight of the foster family.  Even if Phil never pulled through, it was nice of him to offer.  Would give him something to remember them by when he was gone.

But the hoodie, despite being clean, smelled so strongly of Phil and Wilbur and someone else who had to be Techno, and they were such welcoming smells.  He chose to ignore that the hoodie had been ripped away from someone else’s pack for the sheer warmth it gave him.

Tommy would never have a pack, but hanging on the fringes of this one might be nice.

Between the patter of the rain, and the physical and emotional bliss of the hoodie (and wow  were Tommy’s instincts starving, oops), Tommy didn’t have a chance at staying awake.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up to dead silence.  An oddity, with how sensitive his ears were.  The first thing he realized was that he was very, very warm.  The second thing was that the smell around him was definitely not himself.

Right.  Nest.  Phil.  Some random (family?) hoodie.  

Sleepily, he dragged himself out of bed and glanced at the alarm clock.  Seven fifty-two read out in dull red numbers. 

Tommy thought back to the day before, but he couldn’t remember anything being said about wake-up times.  Phil seemed way too nice to sabotage Tommy on purpose (not that he couldn’t just ask Angela to take him back if he really didn’t want Tommy in his house.  Tommy wasn’t on thin ice, he was clinging to the edge of a raft.  Phil could decide if there was space for him.)  That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t be angry if Tommy did something wrong though.

Mulling it over, he decided to wait until he heard some noise coming from downstairs.  Usually, if someone else was up and about, it was alright to be too (Well, house eight hadn’t thought so, but house eight also thought it was a good idea to lock Tommy outside because he shifted in a snowstorm.  Prime’s sake, he couldn’t maintain his shift that whole time.  Tommy wasn’t about to use them as a measure of normal human behavior.)  Or maybe they’d prefer he just stay in his room unless they called for him.  

Like a dog in a kennel.

Tommy’s ears twitched as he heard someone stir in one of the rooms down the hall.  Unfamiliar steps walked heavily down the hallway.  Someone in the basement began clanking about in the kitchen. 

Rolling out of bed, he held back a whimper.  Crap, he’d forgotten how bruised everything still was.  Whatever.  It’d be fine.

Despite how clingy his instincts had gotten to it already, Tommy took off the hoodie.  It wasn’t his.  Phil hadn’t meant for him to keep it forever.  His own was probably clean, if Phil had taken care of it like he had promised.  Even if it wasn’t, the weather looked like it was shaping up to be fairly warm, for a November day.  Long sleeves would probably get too warm.

By the time Tommy had gotten dressed, the people moving around downstairs were clamoring about even more.  Whether or not they were trying to be quiet was impossible to tell because of Tommy’s hearing.  He heard sizzling (breakfast?  Something certainly smelled like breakfast), the drone of something electronic, and indistinct guitar strumming.  The more he focused, the sounds he could differentiate.  It started to feel overwhelming.

Psyching himself up, Tommy swung the door open, turned, and slammed into something warm, but unyielding.

“Heh?”  Tommy barely held himself upright, stumbling back a couple steps.  Oh.  That was a person.

“Sorry,” Tommy said, halfway to cowering.  The person in front of him was tall (shorter than Wilbur though) and broad and could probably murder Tommy with his bare hands if he felt like it.

“S’fine.”  The person snorted.  “Neither of us are hurt … uh.”  The other person stared, which was rude , how would he like it if Tommy looked at him like a carnival attraction.  So what if Tommy was a little bruised, it didn’t mean he was weak or an easy target or whatever else was going on in the other boy’s-Techno-something, Tommy was pretty sure Phil had said the day before-head.

“I didn’t do that, and uh, there’s not really anything we can do about bruises, so.”  Techno stopped talking for a minute.  “Do you want breakfast?”

Tommy followed Techno like a shadow.  From behind, Tommy could get a much better look at him.  His first observation was correct-Techno was built.  He had a braid of pink hair reaching his mid-back, clashing against the red blanket he had thrown over his shoulders like a cape.

How on earth was everything about him so casual, and yet so threatening.

The kitchen wasn’t any more comfortable to Tommy than it had when Angela and Phil were talking the day before.  It was less comfortable than yesterday, because Angela wasn’t here, and at least he knew her.

“Good morning,” Phil said brightly, “did you sleep alright?”  Tommy nodded, sitting down after everyone else already had, and he realized it was expected of him.  He ate quickly, partly because he didn’t want the food getting taken away from him (Phil didn’t seem like the kind of person to do that, but getting hit by a curveball hurt twice as much when the blow wasn’t expected), and partly because he was ravenous.

Plain, regular teenage boys needed a lot of food.  Teenage boys who were also wolves some of the time and had to fuel that wolf appetite needed even more.  Since Tommy didn’t always have the chance to eat properly, when he did, he well-

He went for it.

While he ate, people who didn’t consistently have food in their mouths talked.  It was … nice.  Their conversation.  Tommy wasn’t really paying attention to it, because he was hungry, and they’d probably get pissed if he butted into their family conversation, but their friendly animated voices soothed something in him.

(Well, Techno-Techno blade Tommy eventually found out-a stupid name that Tommy definitely wasn’t going to point out-had a pretty monotone voice, and Wilbur’s pitch got kind of squeaky when he was mocking people.  But they were still nice somehow.)

“Do you want more, Tommy?”  Tommy looked up from his plate, surprised to be addressed (it was early in the morning, surely they didn’t want to deal with Tommy yet).  Wilbur looked at him, but it wasn’t a pressuring or upset or even pitying look.  Wilbur was just … waiting. 

“Huh?”

“Food,” Techno said helpfully, “Do you want more?”  Tommy looked between his two foster brothers, trying to figure out if they were trying to set him up to fail or break an unspoken house rule.  Well, the best time to screw up was in the beginning, before anyone got attached to anyone else, and the family could yeet Tommy back to whence he came.

“If I-yeah?”  Wilbur smiled.  Tommy looked at him and oh.  Wilbur wasn’t in a turtleneck like he had been the day before, and his gills were visible.  

So Wilbur was like Tommy.  And Phil.  He still wasn't sure about Techno, who was honestly terrifying as a human or anything else.  It wasn’t like Tommy was about to stare at him to try to figure it out.

“So Tommy,” Phil began, once Tommy was halfway through chewing his first bite of his second helping, “I need to talk to you about school.” Tommy tensed and something in his brain flipped (Sometimes it was safer not to be human).  Already?  You’re going to blow this already, Tommy?  “The school is going on Thanksgiving break pretty soon, and it isn’t really worth it to make you go for a little bit and have to readjust again.  Of course, if you want out of the house or just really want to start , I can talk to the-”

“I don’t have to go to school until after Thanksgiving?” Tommy asked, too hopeful to remember interrupting could be dangerous.  Probably never have to go to school here then, Tommy’s mind reminded him.  After all, he was only trying to stay here until after Thanksgiving, just to make Angela’s job a little easier.

They wouldn’t be able to keep him for very long anyway.  They didn’t want him in the first place.  If Tommy could manage longer than that, he’d be pretty lucky.  These people, from what Tommy knew so far, were genuinely nice (or genuinely good liars.  Could be that as well).  They were probably nice to people in general.  His stupid instincts shouldn’t get attatched, because Tommy wasn’t anything special to this family.  They would do this for anyone.

“Yeah,” Phil said, “We can push off some annoying stuff until then, thank goodness.”  See, instincts?  Tommy was part of that annoying stuff.  He was a burden Phil, Wilbur, and Techno were carrying for a while before they put him down and handed him off to some other unfortunate family.

“However,” Phil started again, “I just need to go over a few things with you.”  Tommy set his fork down, having devoured his entire second helping.  The clank it made on the table surprised him, but he seemed to be the only one at the table feeling any of the tension in the air.

(The others were family members enjoying their morning, Tommy was a pest.  Of course they weren’t the ones who were uncomfortable.)

“You’ve probably noticed that we’re hybrids.”  Tommy nodded.  “Just a warning.”  Which turned out to be promises in most houses.  “There’s not much with me that you’ll run into other than the nest.  I know it’s large and takes up most of the living room over there, but it’s pretty important to me, so please don’t mess with it unless you need to.  You’re welcome to sit in it or sleep in there whenever.  And of course, if anything of yours ends up in there, you can take it out.  Wilbur and Techno do all the time.”

“ ‘cause you keep stealin’ my clothes.  I need those  Phil.”

“Okay.”  Tommy wasn't going to touch the nest.  Phil may have been being polite about it, but nests were for family, and Tommy wasn’t going to annoy the man even if he said it was alright.

“Wilbur’s a siren, at least partially we’re pretty sure.  He’s not shifted, most of the time, but his singing voice still has the power of a full-blooded one.  He’s not dangerous, and he’s not going to hurt you, usually he just has a weak allure.  Like I said, just a warning.”

“My allure is not weak, Dadza.”

“And Techno’s a piglin shifter.”  Oh, that made sense.  “He’s uh well, Techno’s not harmless, but being a hybrid doesn’t make him inherently more dangerous than a human.”  Phil sounded like he was talking to someone who wasn’t Tommy when he said that, like Phil had needed to defend the piglin side of Techno before.

Huh.  Must be nice to have someone defend the monster side of you.

“Just sometimes when he shifts while he’s really tired, he gets kinda fixated on gold, and he’s a bit of an aggressive cuddler.”  If he hadn’t already been familiar with some piglin characteristics, Tommy would have thought Phil was joking.  Regardless, Tommy didn’t have any gold, and Techno’s instincts weren’t exactly going to be looking to cuddle with Tommy of all people.

“Is there anything we should know about you?” Phil finished, looking at him just like Wilbur had.  Waiting.

Well, Tommy could warn them of some of what was to come with caring for the annoying big man that was Tommyinnit.

“I have to shift on full moons,” Tommy said quietly, “The rest of the time I can stay perfectly human.  Nothing uh.  Nothing special.  I can reign my instincts in pretty well.”  Wilbur’s face  quirked oddly as Tommy was talking, but he didn’t interrupt.  

What are we saying wrong, what are we saying wrong.  Fix this somehow.

“If I’m shifted, it’s probably better-easier to just leave me to roam rather than trying to keep in a room or something.  Unless I’m doing something bad, of course.  Um.  Silver chains can hold me pretty well, as long as they're thick enough.  That’s pretty much it, I guess.”  The rest of the people at the table looked horrified, but what did they expect when they asked for the manual for dealing werewolf Tommy Innit.

“Tommy,” Techno said, “We’re all hybrids here.”  Silence reigned over the table.  Phil looked like he wanted to say something, but seemed to be waiting.  “No one’s going to get mad at you for just … bein’ yourself.”  Tommy gave him a quiet okay, but knew it was a lie.

They’d say that, maybe even think it, but once they saw Tommy’s instincts in action, they would kick him to the curb.

Chapter Text

Tommy liked to think that he adjusted to routines fairly easily.  Change could be a good thing, and while getting used to a lot of new rules and people was annoying, surely there was a bright side.  Still, he knew that learning where the dishes went and being able to help put groceries away warmed him far more than doing chores had any right to.

The Minecraft family was kind to Tommy, giving him time to adjust and being obscenely gentle, probably from pity.  What else could it be?  Only, Tommy wasn’t used to being given time to adjust, so he had to adjust to being given time to adjust which was just.  So stupid.

It was nice to have a space that he was mostly safe in for a while.  Though looking at his meticulously tracked calendar of the moon and its phases (Tommy couldn’t care less what day it was if he didn’t have to go to school, but missing a shifting time and turning while he was unaware was a disaster waiting to happen), the next full moon was a few days before Thanksgiving, which meant that he’d likely get kicked out then, unless he pulled a pro gamer move and managed his shift really well.  

During his shift Tommy was-well he wasn’t inhuman, he still had thoughts and feelings and all that crap, thank you very much-he was just different.  The world seemed so much simpler, cleared away of all the conventions of society that regular, human Tommy kept himself in the bounds of.

Regular Tommy could hide his distaste for people, regular Tommy could show his fear in acceptable ways.

Wolf Tommy was blatantly honest.  He wasn’t dangerous, because he didn’t want to be.  Yeah, he had teeth and stuff, but he didn’t use them on people, even when they were hurting him.  Pups were supposed to submit to authority, right?  Even if it felt wrong wrong wrong.  That’s what everyone who had taught Tommy showed him a good pup did.  He wanted to be good.

Worse, when Wolf Tommy found a rare person that he liked, he was blatantly, embarrassingly obvious.  He didn’t care if whoever he thought was his pack didn’t love him, he wanted to make them happy at any cost to himself.  He wanted them to feel loved and cared for and part of his pack, not thinking of the very-obvious-to-human-tommy fact that nobody wanted to be in his pack.

Tommy had been born a lone wolf, and it wasn’t going to change any time soon.

Wolf Tommy got attached when human Tommy would have cut himself off.  From past experience, Tommy knew it hurt twice as much to get rejected once he was attached.  But every time he felt even a sliver of what love was like, it felt like that brief moment in the sun was worth every lonely future day.

Because the truth was, Tommy was starting to love them.  He knew, oh god, he knew that he wasn’t one of Phil’s kids, not permanently at least.  His place here had an expiration date, and he wasn’t going to last longer than that.  Tommy was a mess of a person that they couldn’t possibly want around, much less love.

But they weren’t honest, and it frustrated the heck out of Tommy.  No, Phil said good morning to him in the morning and gave him breakfast in the softest way, and Wilbur sang to him (sans allure), and Techno played games with him and let him steal his blanket without beating him up.  It wasn’t anything overt (because overt would mean they definitely wanted him around, or wanted him to think that they wanted him around.  Overt would mean that Tommy couldn't think his way out of this), but it still made Tommy’s brain want things that it couldn’t have.

Wil and Techno were both at school, because they weren’t on an adjustment period and wouldn’t be free until next week, so it was just Tommy and Phil in the house.  Tommy hadn’t actually asked what Phil did for a living, but apparently, it was something that could be done from home most days, though Wil said he did get called into the office on occasion when Tommy asked about it.  In any other house, Tommy would be squirreled away in his room, but well.  He wanted to spend time with Phil.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

It could.  It definitely could.  There was a large overlap between the circles of “How much time people spend around Tommy” and “How quickly people want Tommy gone”.  There was a distinct ripping  feeling in his chest every time he remembered Phil wasn’t enjoying their time spent together as much as Tommy was.  But it wasn’t like good things like this home were going to last anyways, so he might as well enjoy it while he had the chance.

Tommy was on the couch, one of the only places on his side of the living room that wasn’t touched by Phil’s nest.  Despite the man’s apparent openness to letting Tommy in it, Tommy hadn’t even touched the edges.

Letting himself even exist in the nest would give his instincts free reign to say “This is mine now.  This family is mine now” and then leaving would hurt all that much more.

No, Tommy would be content as he was.  Listening to them talk and watching Phil be preened. Eating meals with them and sitting on the couch the nights he was downstairs because he’d turned down Phil’s offers to join them in the nest.

“Tommy?” Phil called.

“Uh, Yeah?” Tommy yelled back, knowing he was allowed to be loud, supposed to be loud, so that Phil could hear him (for all of their superhuman abilities, Technoblade was the only other one who had super hearing.  Plus, Phil was an old man, his hearing was probably going anyway).

Phil’s footsteps echoed from his office, until Phil appeared in the living room.

“Did you want to help in the garden?”  Phil’s wings were tucked into him to avoid the doorway, even though it was already extra wide, smaller, but not small by any definition of the word.  “You don’t have to, but you’ve been cooped up in the house.  Thought you might like some fresh air.”

“Okay,” Tommy said agreeably, carefully extricating himself from the couch so he didn’t accidentally fall into the nest.  Had he looked up, he may have seen Phil’s eyes dim, ever so slightly at the sight, but he was singly focused on his task.

Honestly, fresh air would be nice.  Getting outside-freedom-had sometimes been restricted in the past, and now that Tommy had the chance, he was going to take it and run for however long the window of opportunity was open.

The garden that Phil was working in that day was behind the house.  Unlike the front, which was mostly flowers, the back had vegetables and various herbs as well.  Weeding was relaxing.  The dirt was still soft and damp from the recent rain spell they’d had.  Although Tommy was tense from his fear of messing up in some unknowable way, he relaxed soon enough.  Phil was mostly quiet, making remarks on how the plants were doing or noting how nice the day was.

A murder of crows landed on the house at some point.  They didn’t do very much, and the birds at the feeder on one side of the yard didn’t even seem bothered.  They screeched a bit and watched Tommy blatantly, but they didn’t bother him.

“The crows are excited today,” Phil said, when he caught Tommy staring at them.  He explained they were just a family of crows that lived around and had grown attached to them.  Tommy was pretty sure crow families weren’t that big, but he didn’t question it out loud.

Eventually, they dispersed into the woods behind the house, and Tommy had nothing else to focus on but the task at hand.  Pulling weeds was systematic, and it was satisfying to see the dirt clear.

“So Tommy,” Phil said, “I don’t want to overstep, but I just wanted to double check if you need anything for your shift.  I know there’s a full moon coming up within the next week.

Tommy-Tommy didn’t know how to answer that question. 

Tommy and Phil weeded in silence while Tommy thought.  That was something weird about  the Minecraft family.  They didn’t seem to care if he took a while to think through answers, they’d just wait patiently.  Well, they might occasionally tease him, but always in a familiar way, like they teased each other.

“It’s helpful to have space sometimes,” Tommy admitted quietly, “Obviously, if it’s too much, you can lock me up or something.  And I’m not like, high maintenance.  Heck you don’t even have to feed me if-”  Phil looked up from his weeding, face looking horrified before he schooled it into a more neutral, relaxed expression.  Great.  He was hiding his emotions from Tommy.  

“Tommy,” Phil interrupted gently, “We’re going to feed you.  Don’t worry about that.  And we’re not-we are never going to lock you up.”  Tommy pulled out a weed a little harshly.

“I won’t die.  Just makes me weaker and easier to manage.”  Phil looked like he was still struggling.  Even better.  Now Tommy was being a nuisance.

“That’s inhumane.”

“ ‘s not like I’m really human during my shifts anyway.”

“You’re still you, mate.”  Tommy shrugged.  Why would that matter?  When has that ever mattered in any past homes?  “But you said space?  If you want to wander, the back woods are a good place to do it.  You’re welcome there any time, even if you aren’t shifted.”

“Thank you,” Tommy said, because he wasn’t really sure what else to say.  Surely, Phil would change his mind after he saw Tommy-all of five feet, underfed (but still dangerously strong) wolf Tommy.

But until then, it would be nice to bask in what love might be like.

The night grew darker, colder, deeper, and Phil went inside to make dinner.  Aggressive guitar strums floated through the air accompanied by Wilbur’s soft voice.  Tommy lingered by Phil and helped him make dinner.  Techno joined them at some point and tried to shove potatoes into every dish.

It was nice.

Dinner wasn’t quiet-not with so many teenage boys, and it wasn’t like Phil himself was a quiet person (It was very, very clear to Tommy where Techno and Wilbur got their chaotic tendencies).  It was peaceful, at least by Tommy’s definition.  Comfortable.  Safe.

An itch grew in Tommy’s throat.  But, he wasn’t going to cry just because people treated him well.  He downed his glass of water and cleared his throat.  Maybe being out in the cold had weakened his immune system?

Yeah, surely it was that, because the great Tommyinnit did not cry from such a simple thing as being allowed to watch someone else’s happy family.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up with the persistent feeling that he was about to throw up.  He sat upright in his bed. His bedroom was bathed in darkness, cool and relaxing, or it would be if he didn’t feel so sick.

The pit in his stomach fell, and Tommy bolted to the bathroom.  He didn’t-this couldn’t be happening.  Not so soon.  He had no idea how this family would react to him throwing up or being sick in general.  Going by  the rest of their actions, they’d probably be cool about it.  At the very least, they wouldn’t bug Tommy about letting himself get sick.

Still, the ever-present anxiety that followed him around told him to hide it.  Better safe than sorry, wasn’t it?  After all, it didn’t matter what their reaction would be if they never found out in the first place, right?

He barely made it to the bathroom down the hall in time.  Dry heaving, coughing.  The world spun and for a terrible moment, Tommy couldn’t breathe.

Then, it stopped, as terribly as it had begun.  The dry heaves slowed and he sat in the dark, only light coming from the moon through a high window behind the toilet.  A half-moon.  Waning, Tommy knew, trying to distract himself while he gained the energy to clean his mess up.

He wiped his mouth and looked down.

Oh god.

There were flower petals on the floor.  Flower petals covered in blood.

What on earth happened to him?

He knew.  Tommy knew the answer, but he wished that he didn’t.  He needed to clean this up before someone else saw.  What if he had woken someone up?  That would be bad.  He wouldn’t be able to-he couldn’t clean this up in time.  And if anyone saw this, they’d definitely hate him.  Despise him.  

The petals themselves were in shreds, and whatever type of flower they came from was completely unrecognizable.  Blue and pink and yellow.  And red.  Red with blood from Tommy himself.  What a mess.

He grabbed paper towels from the cabinet under the sink and wiped them up from the floor.  He crumpled them and shoved them in the garbage.  Would that be enough to hide them?  Should he disinfect the area?  But surely that would make too much noise.  However, since all of the petals were cleaned up, Tommy could pass it off as simply throwing up.  Earlier, the notion of throwing up and having them know about it scared him, but compared to them knowing he had some sort of shameful … love sickness, he preferred it immensely.

House number three was the first house to introduce the concept of hanahaki to him.  While they had appeared mostly human, they had roots in multiple magical beings and thus, been successible to the disease unlike humans.  As Tommy’s guardians at the moment, they had decided it was their job to teach Tommy about the dangers of being a magical creature.

They had explained that it was a perilous disease, although not always fatal.  It tended to be chronic.  Long lasting.  Ravishing the body.  Could be deadly, if the flowers weren’t getting cleared (puking them up was enough to clear them in most cases, apparently) or if the vines his his lungs (oh god there were vines in his lungs that was horrifying) pierced his lungs and a victim was not brought to a doctor in time and treated.

They told him it was shameful.  It meant you were unloved, by whoever.  That you were desperate, something in you was trying to get their attention, and that it made you sick, in more ways than one.  Manipulative, was what they had told him it was.  It was manipulative to come down with hanahaki because it forced people to feel like they had to love you.

House three was also the first house that taught him getting sick in general was due to stupidity though.  If you didn’t take care of your health or took unnecessary risks, you would get hurt, and it would be your fault.

Needless to say, Tommy had been a lot more careful about showing he was sick after house three.  It was probably better that way anyway.  Safer.

So he couldn’t let Phil or anyone else in the house see this.  It would be very obvious who the petals were for.  Three colors, three plants growing in Tommy’s lungs.  Wow, could someone get a top doctor to come and explain who they were for because it definitely wasn’t obvious?  Tommy had only been coming in contact with, coincidentally, three people in the past couple days.  Three people who he was living with like he was part of their family or something, wasn't that so hard to figure out?

No, no one would be finding out if Tommy had a say in it, and he did, seeing as it was him who was throwing up flowers at some odd hour of the morning.

He would not invite any more of their pity into his life.  No matter how painful hanahaki was, he would bear it alone rather than face their pity or their hate.

Heck, if they reacted badly to this, he might just die on the spot, not even needing vines in his lungs to choke him to death.  Wouldn't that be pathetic.

Tommy sniffled.  Crouched on the bathroom floor only recently cleaned from his own sick was pretty pathetic, wasn’t it?  He was just … pathetic.  No wonder people didn’t love him.  

He didn’t realize his thoughts were spiraly until he felt his breath pick up.  

He flushed the toilet quickly and left the room.  He couldn’t-maybe he could come back afterward, wake up before everyone else and make sure there weren’t any more stray petals, but right now he couldn’t be in there.  Couldn’t be in that room.

He couldn’t think

He couldn’t breathe-

He coughed, nothing but a small bit of blood coming up.  Good, that was good.  That meant he didn’t have anything to clean up.  If someone saw blood on Tommy and questioned it, he could just say he had a nosebleed or had reopened one of his cuts that was still healing from the last house or something.  He wasn’t sure if they knew about those, they were hidden pretty well underneath his clothes, and it wasn’t like he walked around the house naked or anything.  Angela might have told Phil.  Regardless, he could make excuses for blood, but not bloody petals.

He couldn’t stop his breathing, he couldn’t stop himself once he had spiralled down this badly.  He just needed to ride it out.  He knew his heart rate was speeding up.  He that he was uncomfortable, that his thoughts were racing, because … because this was a disaster, he didn't want to be in pain, he just wanted to be allowed to garden with Phil and sing with Wilbur and joke with Techno and enjoy this family until he had to leave,but no, good things couldn’t last, Tommy always ruined them.

He walked unsteadily towards his room, his thoughts going a million miles a minute.

There was a thump in front of him.

Tommy paused, looking up.

Red.  There was red in front of him.

Techno.  Those were Techno’s eyes.  Techno’s glowing red eyes.  Wow.  That was.  That was terrifying.

He berated himself for thinking that way.  He didn’t want people thinking he was scary while he was shifted, because he was still himself.  It wasn’t fair to do it to other people.  To Techno.  It wasn’t.

Still, he couldn't stop himself.  Tommy was already trembling, already afraid.  He could attribute his fear to the whole has a nasty chronic love disease rather than Techno if he wanted to, but that wasn’t fair.  Tommy was just bad, just a hypocrite, probably.  He couldn’t even treat other shifters right in his head, how pathetic.

Techno was watching him though.  It was clear that he had shifted at some point (because Techno was normal, this was Techno’s home, obviously he could shift whenever he wanted to because he lived here.  He was wanted here- all of him.  Unlike Tommy.  Tommy was being selfish he needed to stop being selfish)

Fully shifted Techno was just as tall as human Techno was, and was dressed much the same.  Normally, Tommy didn't think that he’d be scared of someone dressed in minecraft pajamas, but this was a special circumstance.

He was scared of regular Techno sometimes too, he tried to comfort himself.  That thought somehow wasn’t as comforting as he wanted it to be.  Maybe because he was already in the tunnel of panic.

Yeah that was probably it.

Techno had tusks now, long and white.  Shiny.  Could probably pierce Tommy if he wanted to, they certainly looked sharp enough to do the job.  He was also furry, though Tommy couldn’t see that well in the unlit hallway.

Techno was so big.  Strong.  Had people supporting him.  He could hurt Tommy, especially now, since he was weak from puking.  And sure, he’d started getting more regular meals but it would take a while to get back to where he should be (he said back like he had ever even been there in the first place.  That would be nice if he had been.  As if this wasn’t his default state).  But still.  Scrawny.  Small, human Tommy stood no chance at the moment.  If Techno wanted to hurt him, he could.

Hybrids, Tommy had been told sometime in his past, while a family was chaining him up in preparation for his soon to be shift date, were more volatile in their shifted states.  More like animals, and less than human.  They were dangerous.  They said it because they were explaining to Tommy why it was okay-why it was right to lock him up like they were.  The same sentiment had been echoed many times since.  Tommy knew that those thoughts were wrong, but sometimes he couldn’t stop thinking about them, stop thinking they were right.

After all, Tommy could be more volatile in his hybrid state.  He was certainly more honest.  Who was to say that Technoblade wasn’t?

Technoblade approached him, making some sort of chuffing noise.  Tommy had never lived with or been friends with a  piglin hybrid, he had no idea what they meant.

Tommy’s legs trembled and lost their ability to hold Tommy up properly.  He fell forward.

Strong, slightly fluffy arms caught him.  He didn’t struggle, because it would not be worth it anyway.  Tommy couldn't do anything. He was helpless, he was always helpless.  He couldn't protect himself, he just needed to be good.  Be good until it was over.  Maybe being good would make it easier.  Tommy wasn’t sure what “it” was but he knew that he needed to do it.  Needed to let Techno do whatever it was that he needed to do.

“This alright?” Techno asked, his voice rougher than normal, probably from sleep.  Tommy didn’t answer for a second.  What?  Was … Tommy wasn’t alright, nothing was alright, but he couldn’t exactly tell the piglin hybrid no right now.

He was already crying.  He was already weak.  Did piglins have a thing with aggression?  Tommy didn’t know.  He knew that he had been told many times that hybrids were a problem because of their aggressiveness (or specific hybrids were problems because of aggression. He'd met some hybrids that disliked him, because he was a shifter or because of what type of shifter he was.  It wasn’t like it was just humans that sometimes didn’t like hybrids.  It was everyone.  Everyone didn’t like Tommy)

“Tommy?”  Even with the sleep messing up with voice, Techno sounded so bloody soft.  What was Tommy supposed to do with that?  If he had better sense and wasn’t so terrified, he would have been embarrassed.

“Can you-can you talk right now.”

“Y-yeah,” Tommy said, “I’m-yeah.”  Techno made the chuff chuff noise again.  Tommy still didn’t know what it meant.

“This is fine,” Tommy whispered, not wanting to bring the ire of Techno on himself, “You can-it’s fine.  I don’t-”  He stopped talking, cutting himself off before he started coughing up petals or crying or something else equally as bad as doing that.

Techno shifted him in his arms until he was cradling him like a freaking baby.  Tommy wasn’t a baby, but it did feel … safe.

“Safe.”  Techno told him, “You are safe now, okay? Shh.”  He made the chuffing noise again.  Tommy still didn’t know what on earth it meant, but for some reason it made him feel safe.  What was going on?  Phil had warned him that Techno got  … weird on his shift times, but this was just strange.  Shouldn’t he want to seek out his family?  Or gold?  Why Tommy?  Was it because he was the first person that Techno saw?  After all, Techno had just walked out of his room, probably and saw Tommy stumbling awkwardly out of the bathroom.  He probably just … latched on.  Not that Techno was stupid at all, in his shifted state.

Techno hushed him.

“Techno, where are you going?”  Techno had started walking towards the stairs, cradling Tommy even closer into his chest when he realized he was crying.  

“Safety,” Techno said, “If you aren’t safe here, then ...”  He didn’t finish the statement, though he tried to comfort (?) Tommy with the chuff chuff noises continuously.  If Tommy weren’t so scared, he might have found it adorable.  That was a weird concept.  Techno being adorable.  

“Huh?”  Tommy said, but Techno just grunted at him worriedly.  A soft weight hit the front of him.  It was soft and red (of course it was red).  Blanket , his mind supplied as Techno paused to drape it more evenly across him.  Tommy was already too tired after everything that had happened that night to fight it.  

His sleep had been interrupted awfully, and he was so glad that he didn’t have to go to school pretty much the entire time he was at this house (which wouldn’t be for long, but again, good things didn’t last long, Tommy was going to learn to live with it)

“Safety,” Techno said again, stepping into the living room.  Tommy struggled a little in distress when he realized that Techno was trying to get him into the nest.

“No,” Tommy said, even though he knew that saying no to Techno probably wasn’t very smart.  Techno was being very, very gentle with him right now, but something could set him off.  Techno could easily hurt Tommy right now.  His still healing bruises would only look a little bit worse.  People might not even notice.

Tommy shook.

“Not safe?” Techno asked, sounding very concerned.  It looked like it took a lot of concentration to talk.

“I’m safe,” Tommy said, hoping to assuage Techno’s fears.  Besides, he was tired.  Incredibly so.  Surely-

-surely after what happened earlier that night, he should be even more careful, but it felt good, when he relaxed.  When he wasn’t afraid.  Technoblade stepped into the nest, placing Tommy down gently and making sure his head was on a pillow as if Tommy was a sleeping toddler.

“Sleep,” Techno encouraged him, splaying his blanket across Tommy.  He brushed Tommy’s hair back.  “Gold.”  Techno flopped next to him, pulling a blanket up from the nest and wrapping it around himself.

“Goodnight T-Techie,” Tommy slurred sleepily, only half-awake.

“G’night Tommy.”

Chapter Text

When Tommy woke up, he was incredibly warm.  As if he were sleeping next to a furnace rather than alone in his room.

Wait.

Why would there be a furnace next to his bed?

Oh heck, heck, heck.  Go back.

He opened his eyes slowly and surveyed the room around him.  Memories of the night before flooded his mind.  Despite how tired he had been, they were still seared into his mind like a brand.

He turned his head.  His suspicions that that wasn’t a furnace were correct.  Technoblade, still a fully shifted piglin, slept softly beside Tommy.  Last night had … happened.  Tommy was here now.  In the nest.

Tommy fought to keep himself calm, because the last thing he wanted to do was wake up the piglin sleeping beside him.

Phil was going to be disappointed if he saw Tommy in his nest.  Polite invites were just that-given to spare his feelings, because Phil was a good person.  Wilbur would probably be annoyed, because he had been so gentle with Tommy, and Tommy had taken what he was given and run.  But Techno-

-Techno was going to be pissed.

In the night, Tommy had possibly woken Technoblade up.  Even if the other had already been awake, he had also taken advantage of the others instincts and used him for comfort.  He’d entered Techno’s personal space, and Techno seemed really, really fond of his personal space.

And he just … let it happen like an idiot.  He should have struggled.  It was hard to struggle against something he wanted, but still.  Still.  

He shouldn’t have been vulnerable or needy like that.  Tommy knew that he had no way of knowing that Technoblade would have been shifted, so he couldn’t blame himself for that, but he could blame himself for being a coward and allowing this to happen.

There was an itch in Tommy’s throat.  And now he knew that it wasn’t crying or dust or an idle itch.  No, it was probably the fricking flower petals.  Ugh.  He couldn’t cough here, not with-not with Techno sleeping inches away from him.

Would Techno be even angrier if Tommy woke him up by coughing?  Probably.  Especially after last night.  It would be two times too many.  Besides, Tommy would feel bad.

He already felt bad enough.  Because while Tommy knew that he was still himself when he was shifted, that was not the same for all shifters, surely.  What happened last night couldn’t have been something Techno actually wanted to do.

Obligation or worry or decency.  Maybe it had been a normal way for a piglin to act and Tommy was making a bigger deal out of it than he should have been.  After all, it was common decency to take care of kids.  So yeah, Tommy was probably blowing it way out of proportion.

Tommy shifted in the nest, trying to crawl out before he bothered Techno even more.  It would still probably be awkward for Tommy to see the older boy later, but it was easier for current Tommy, and Tommy was selfish, even when it came to his future versus past self.

“Heh,” Techno said, shuffling beneath a blanket, “What time is it?”  Tommy startled, not realizing when Techno had woken up.

“Just woke up,” Tommy answered sleepily, taking the chance to clear his throat as best as he could, “Dunno yet.”

“Alright,” Techno said, sitting up beside Tommy, “You feelin’ better at all?”  Wait.  Did Techno … did Techno know something happened?  Tommy blushed, embarrassed that someone had seen that.  Because being sick was embarrassing, right?

“What?”

“You were throwing up last night, right?  At least that’s what it … sounded like.”  Oh, Techno probably had increased hearing.  That was … wow that was even more embarrassing than regularly throwing up in front of someone.  Having them hear it awkwardly down the hall.

“Sorry.”  Techno snorted.

“You can’t exactly help it, Tommy.  But are you feelin’  better?  I didn’t want to get Phil last night, because you were … well, you seemed pretty out of it, and I wasn’t doing much better, being sleepless and all that.  Sorry if-” Techno paused for a moment, clearly thinking, “Sorry if I crossed any boundaries last night.  I tend to think about that type of thing … less while I”m shifted.  It’s not an excuse, but-”

“I get it,” Tommy assured him, because he did .  Maybe if he showed that he understood Techno now, Techno would be more lenient towards Tommy in the future when he realized just how annoying and bad Tommy’s shifted form was.

“Right,” Techno said, “But are you feelin’ better?  Because I kinda have to tell Dad if you aren’t.”  Tommy bit his lip.  Obviously, he wasn’t feeling better.  Hanahaki wasn’t just a one night deal (unless you were like, insta-loved, but really, in what world was Tommy going to get insta-loved). Tommy was going to have it until he managed to get over his love for this family or they actually loved him.  Or the stars burned out.  Each of those was equally as likely to happen as soon as the other.

Really, it was what he deserved for being so reckless with how he felt, wasn’t it?

“I think so,” Tommy said, “I don’t feel-I don’t think I’m going to throw up again?”  Techno nodded.

“That’s good.  But Phil would help you if you felt sick, alright?  Any of us would.”

Tommy nodded, but knew Techno wouldn’t mean it if he knew what Tommy was actually sick with.

“Here’s your, uh, your blanket back.  Sorry I took it.”  Techno snorted.

“I gave it to you,” Techno said.  The air felt slightly awkward to Tommy, and all he wanted was for it to lighten up

“Well, Tech-no-blade, maybe I don’t want your pity blanket.”  Apparently, Techno did as well, because he laughed and tucked the blanket Tommy handed him to the side of the nest.

“Alright then, Tommy,” Techno said, “Do you want breakfast?”

Tommy shrugged.  He did want to leave the nest though (no he didn’t, but he couldn’t think about that).  After all, how would Phil feel if he saw Tommy sleeping here?  Wil?  Heck, how did Technoblade feel?  He might have brought Tommy here last night, but he was in a more vulnerable state and Tommy shouldn’t have taken advantage of it like he had. 

Yeah, he was tired and sick and not thinking entirely straight.  Yes, he had been scared and in a completely unfamiliar situation, but that was no excuse.  Technoblade probably wouldn’t have hurt him anyway, and even if he had, would it have been so … bad?  What was worse, getting a little bit more hurt when he was already hurt or intruding on some poor people’s family.

He knew which was more painful for him, but he also knew which one was worse in general.

Tommy’s stomach growled, because it was stupid and needed a lot of food.  Because, yeah, a werewolf and a teenage boy together made an extremely hungry person.  Of course he wanted breakfast.

He just had to … get out of the nest.  Which, theoretically, was a very easy thing to do, especially since he wanted to.

He really wanted to.  He did.

“Um,” Tommy started, glancing around.  Technoblade was watching him, cautiously, as if he was afraid Tommy was going to do something ill-advised and surprising.  “Sure.  Yeah, big man, breakfast would be poggers.”

“Alright,” Technoblade said, standing up and navigating his way out of the nest.  Tommy followed him quickly.

It really was quite comfortable.  Quite an impressive nest, honestly.  It was a shame Tommy was never going to step foot in it again.

If going in once, while guided by Technoblade was bad, then stepping foot in it again, on his own volition was far worse.

Tommy creeped out of the nest guiltily.

“Boys, are you in-” Phil peaked his head around the wall that separated the kitchen and the living room.  “Here.  Oh.”  Tommy’s eyes flitted away from Phil.  He already imagined Phil’s disappointed face enough that he didn’t need to see it in person.

“I’ve started breakfast already,” Phil said, “though you can probably smell it.”  Yeah, if Tommy was paying attention, he could definitely smell whatever Phil was making … pancakes, maybe?  Was that what those were? Just because he had enhanced senses didn’t mean he was that good at differentiating what all of the different smells were.

Just like his hearing.  Sure, he could hear well, but sometimes that just meant that loud sounds were even louder.  It just meant that he could get overwhelmed that much more easily.  And don’t even get him started on hearing multiple sounds at once.  That crap was just stupidly too much.

“Okay,” Tommy said, following Technoblade uncertainly just like he had his first morning at the house.

“Did you guys sleep alright?”  Growing up the way he had, with so many different families and communication styles and safety levels, TOmmy had learned how to pick up minute changes in tone.  How to tell if someone was angry just by the slightest adjustment in their tone, because if you couldn’t tell, it would seem like they suddenly switched feelings and the ground he was standing on would become unsteady.  It was far safer to understand when someone’s mood was spiraling down.  It was much safer to be aware of the anger before it was ever targeted at you.

Phil sounded worried.  Worry could turn into anger pretty quickly, from what Tommy had seen.  It was probably best to monitor that.  Not that Phil would do anything, but he was in a good position to, so Tommy would be aware.

He was probably worried for Technoblade though, and maybe Tommy.  Not because he cared about Tommy, but because Tommy was a person.  Phil was a good person-a really good person-so he probably worried about people that didn’t deserve it-people like Tommy.

Tommy didn’t like the guilt that continued to fester in his gut, but there wasn’t really anything he could do about it other than try to ignore it.

Technoblade, either blissfully unaware of PHil’s mood or immune to it (being one of his actual sons, and not an interloper), simply plopped at the table.

“ “s Wil still asleep?  I need to talk to him, but I can’t really do that if he’s out until twelve.”  Phil laughed and shrugged.

“It’s the weekend, Techno, let him have his rest.”

“He can rest over break,” Techno insisted.

“And you can’t wait to talk to him then because …”

“It’s time sensitive.”

“It’s nine.”

“It’s important.”

“Alright,” Phil said, “He probably won’t be sleeping for much longer.  You can eat without him, anyway.  I’ll just set some aside.”

Tommy stood awkwardly, watching the scene from the side.  While from past experience at the dinner table and in general while he was around the house, he was allowed in these conversations apparently (and occasionally pulled into them by Phil or Wilbur against his will), it still felt awkward to insert himself into them as if he was one of them.

“Tommy,” Phil asked, turning his head toward him, “Do you want to eat?”  The answer was yes, obviously.  The answer was always yes because he was always starving.  Well, not anymore.  Phil seemed determined to feed him as much as he could possibly need in a way no house before had ever been.  Even though it was stupid and ill advised and would make Tommy that much harder to deal with.  A werewolf was one thing, a healthy werewolf was quite another. Not every house he had ever been in had starved him, most of them hadn’t, at least intentionally.  But they hadn’t checked how much food Tommy needed (really needed) as … religiously as Phil did.  He actually took time to cater to Tommy’s needs specifically.

It was weird, for lack of a better word to describe it.  Weird and wonderful, which made this situation only more painful.

Tommy now had concrete proof that Phil didn’t freaking love him.  It was right there-the tickle in his throat, the trace of dried blood on his elbow, the impossible to hold back flower petals.  None of them wanted him, they just acted like they did.

Footsteps thudded from upstairs.  Well, they didn’t thud.  Normal human ears probably wouldn’t pick up on them amongst the chatter in the kitchen, but Tommy had good hearing and was attuned to being aware of footsteps and movement and where everyone was in the house.  It wasn’t always safe to be surprised.

Wilbur, then. Wilbur was awake.

Wilbur, who Techno needed to talk to.  Of course, it could be for a perfectly innocent reason, or it could be something about Tommy, something about what happened last night.  What if Techno knew, and he just didn’t want Tommy to know that he knew.  That would be … bad.  Tommy might be out of this house before the full moon if Techno knew and shared it.

Or maybe, they’d get him treatment, even if they were disgusted.  This family was different.  They were kind.

They seemed to care.

(wasn’t that the problem?)

Then again, it could also not be about Tommy at all.  He could just be being really self-absorbed right now.

Regardless, even though Tommy liked Wilbur, and the older boy seemed to like him well enough, at least he let him spend time with him out of his own free will, rather than being forced to by Phil, he didn’t want him to know.  

“Wilbur,” Phil said, “What happened to you?”  Wilbur looked, for lack of a better way to describe it, like utter crap.  Tommy could easily have assumed that he just straight up didn’t sleep at all, because seriously, he looked like he could be a phantom instead of a siren.

“Mmf,” Wilbur said, flopping on the table and grabbing a pancake.  Rather than putting syrup on it like a normal human, he just shoved it into his face.

Wow.  Okay.  Bad day for Wilbur apparently.

“Just stressed,” he said eventually, interjecting himself into the gentle conversation that had been going on around the table, “school likes to shove finals into right before break.  And i’m pretty sure they’re going to cram a bunch of homework over break, so it isn’t even a rest.”

Techno groaned, also agreeing.  Phil seemed sympathetic.

“Tommy,” Wil said, looking slightly wild and still definitely not rested, “Tommy, you are so lucky that you don’t have to start school for two more weeks.  I would kill to be you.”  And Wilbur really looked like he would happily kill someone.  Terrifying.  Usually, when a foster sibling expressed something akin to jealousy, it terrified Tommy, because usually they could do something to get whatever it was that Tommy had that they wanted with little to no consequences.

But Wilbur was just joking.  Just … acting like Tommy was his friend or his brother or family, and Tommy wasn’t.

Tommy coughed, the itch in his throat increasing badly.  Ow.  He choked down his water.  That hurt.

“You okay?” Phil asked.

“Just … swallowed the wrong way,” Tommy insisted, “I’m fine.”

Tommy was not fine.  In fact, he was very much not fine.  Maybe he would have been okay if he had just stayed around the house like he had in so many of his past homes.  Except, he didn’t just want to isolate himself even though he really should.  Not isolating himself was the issue.  Tommy wasn’t disconnecting himself from the minecraft family, so he got gross personal connection disease.

Nope.  He was going to go for a walk with Wilbur, because the other boy wanted to do something stress relieving and also show Tommy around town.  It was two miles to the main part of town.  The walk was mostly through residential neighborhoods, and it was nice enough outside.  Because Tommy hated himself and wanted to suffer, apparently, he had agreed.

Being with Wil wasn’t suffering, though.  Being with Wilbur was … fun.  Being with Wilbur was really fun.  He wanted to be around him more-all of them more.

Well, he wanted to be around Techno maybe less, because the dude was very cool and very intimidating in a far away way (unlike Wilbur who was just i’m better than you intimidating.  Scary, but a familiar type of scar), and Tommy had maybe possibly taken advantage of his hybrid shift.  But if Tommy wasn’t worried about annoying Techno to the point where the other couldn’t stand him being in the same house anymore, then he’d want to be around him.

So Techno might have bad feelings for him.  Techno hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Wilbur since breakfast like he wanted to, and Tommy was going to take advantage of Wilbur still not hating him.

(He almost said loving, but even in his own head, he knew that was a lie.  Three plants in his lungs.  That wasn’t normal, okay.  It wasn’t normal.)

Other than occasional brief comments, the two were silent.  Both of them were tired and formulating sentences was a bother.

“Tommy,” Wilbur said, “How are you-I mean, well, how are you … adjusting?  I guess.  God, that’s such a bad way to phrase that question.”

They walked in silence for a couple moments, Tommy thinking, and Wilbur doing whatever the heck it was that this family did whenever they were waiting for Tommy to think of something to say.

“I-” Tommy said, trying to decide how honest to be. “you guys are … good.  You guys are a good house.  I think I’ll miss you when I leave.”  Wilbur turned his head, looking at Tommy slightly oddly, before he did that thing that Phil did so often and scrubbed the expression from his face.  It creeped Tommy out slightly, when he did that.  It wasn’t that Tommy didn’t do the exact same thing whenever he thought the emotions on his face weren’t appreciated by someone he liked that could see his face, but still.  It was weird to think about someone thinking of him that way.  Wanting to monitor their emotions.  Besides, they didn’t need to.

Just because it hurt him didn’t mean that he didn’t want to know the truth.

“Oh,” Wilbur said, looking like he still couldn’t formulate words, “um, we need to turn left up here if you want to get over to the main streets uh.”  He paused again, seeming like he was trying to get a grip on his thoughts.

Like Tommy had seen everyone else in this family do, Tommy waited, as patiently as he was able to.  Because apparently that’s just what they did, and honestly, it was pretty nice.

“Were you-I mean, if it’s too much of an intrusion you don’t have to answer, but were you planning on leaving?  I mean, I wasn’t-I haven’t heard of everything or been told everything between Phil and your foster worker, but aren’t you long term.  Like, possible adoption.”  

Hah, yeah.  Possible adoption.  They hadn’t even seen enough of him to know if they didn’t hate him, much less wanted to raise him and promise to take care of him at least until he was eighteen.  Four years was a long time, after all. They could keep him here without adopting him the whole time if they wanted to.

Tommy wasn’t guaranteed a family.

“I mean, you don’t really think I'm going to-” Tommy cut himself off and stared at the cracked sidewalk beneath him.  It was easier than looking at Wilbur’s face or finishing his own sentence.  He was pretty sure that Wilbur could figure out what he meant anyway.

“Tommy,” Wilbur said, “You know we … I know that you haven’t been with us very long, but you click very well, you know.  We love you.”  They didn’t.  Tommy knew they didn’t.  “You don’t have to stay, of course, but we want you around, alright?”

“Okay,” Tommy said, although he knew Wilbur was lying.  WIlbur probably thought he meant what he said or was lying for Tommy’s benefit, but it was okay.  Tommy would be selfish at this house, with the Minecrafts, he would be selfish and soak up every bit of pretend love they threw his way, so that in the future, when he was starving or hurting or lonely, he could remember that life didn’t have to be that way.

That maybe someday he’d find another house as nice as this one.  Maybe someday people could actually love him.

(Something in him told him that if the Minecraft family couldn’t love him, then probably no one could.  This was his biggest chance, and he’d already blown it.)

Tommy couldn’t really complain about them not being honest because he was lying to them too.  This morning, last night, every minute of every day that he didn’t tell them he had hanahaki, he wasn’t telling the truth.  He was taking advantage of their kindness.  No wonder they couldn't love him.

(Tommy got it.  Tommy couldn’t love himself either).

“Tommy?  Tommy?” Wilbur called a few times, but he couldn’t get his younger brother’s attention no matter how hard he tried.

“Tommy, can you focus on me?”  Tommy’s head immediately snapped up and stared at Wilbur.  His eyes were blurry and unfocused, but they were looking at Wilbur instead of the pavement, and he wasn't beyond hearing apparently.

Wilbur really didn’t like using his siren voice on people that weren’t consenting to it, because while it was nice to be lured to sleep by your brother on a bad night, it was not nice to be suddenly surprised into doing something you had no conscious thought of and didn’t want to do in the first place.  It was an invasion of privacy, and Wilbur wasn’t usually one to break it.

His only reason for breaking it was if someone else was in danger, because they could die.  Tommy wasn’t going to die, and maybe WIlbur shouldn't have done it, but Tommy wasn’t responding, and Wilbur couldn’t tell what was going on in his head.  He just wanted him to be okay.

He should not have been talking about anything yet.  Tommy was clearly not rested or relaxed enough to have a vulnerable conversation.  Neither of them were.

“Tommy stop walking,” Wilbur said, “actually, no, just follow me.”  He led Tommy away from the downtown area to a park that was not usually very busy this time of day.  Yeah, there were the odd children running around, parents watching from not too far away.  An occasional jogger or dog walker, but not too busy.  Hopefully.   Hopefully not too much for Tommy to deal with at the moment.

Wilbur stopped at a bench.  Tomy just … stood by him.  He wasn’t under any allure at the moment, but he still seemed incredibly out o f it.

“Tommy, you can sit if you want to,” WIlbur told him, not even using his allure.  Just a normal question.

Tommy immediately sat down, so suddenly it almost looked painful.  He sat awkwardly, like he didn’t know where to put his arms or legs or anything.  He looked extremely out of it still.

So Wilbur waited, trying to keep his eyes on Tommy and also not stare at him, because what if that was what he was paying attention to, so he watched the joggers and dog walkers and small children fall down and scrape their knees and run to their parents for comfort.  Just.  park things.

Tommy shifted, getting more comfortable on the bench and less stiff, more alive.  That was good, probably.  WIlbur didn’t really know what to do.  Tommy didn’t seem like hwas all there, but maybe he was just really tired.

Tommy coughed.

“Sorry about that.  What um.  What happened? How did-did we walk over here?”  Wilbur almost sighed with relief because Tommy was talking and acting more like Tommy (well not like Tommy himself, but some closed off version of Tommy.  He was, at very least, acting like a person at all)

“I-You … zoned out?  While we were talking.  I, um, I used my allure on you.  I’m sorry.  I was worried, but I know it’s uncomfortable to have on you when you aren’t-'' But Tommy waved him off.

“It’s fine,” Tommy insisted, “whatever-whatever makes me easier to deal with.”  Oh, oh oh no.  This was-Wilbur should probably get Phil and talk to him about this because he really didn’t know how to handle it at all. He knew that Tommy had some complex issues, from his past.

He didn't know everything, but Tommy had alluded to some things, and the discussion that they had had about Tommy’s shifts and Techno and WIlbur’s abilities and Phil himself had been very incredibly enlightening.  But still.  It was jaring and terrifying to have someone WIlbur cared about a lot just throw it out there in conversation.

“Tommy,” Wilbur said, “I want you to be happy and comfortable.  Please don’t let me do things just because you think it makes my life easier.  Even if it doesn’t make sense, I prefer you being happy over me being … less inconvenienced.  Okay?”  Tommy raised his eyebrows.

“Okay.”  SIlence reigned over their conversion.

“I’m also sorry that I put the conversation somewhere you weren’t comfortable with.  That wasn’t cool.”

“It was fine,” TOmmy said, “It-I just had to think a lot.  And I guess I thought too much.”  Even though Tommy insisted everything was fine, he still looked really pale and sick.  Shoot.  Maybe he was sick.

Tommy coughed and there was blood.

Immediately, Wilbur’s head went to all the terrible things that came with coughing up blood.  Shoot.  His new baby brother was diseased.

When Tommy caught Wilbur looking at him, he looked terrified and, if possible, even more pale.

“Tommy,” Wilbur said, “I think I’m going to call Phil to pick us up.  I think resting would be a good idea.”

“You don’t-You don’t need to bother him.  I’ll be okay.  I walked all the way here.”

“It would make me feel better,” Wilbur said, and Tommy wavered. 

“Okay.”

Wilbur texted Phil while Tommy twitched anxiously.  While the two waited, Wilbur started a much easier conversation with Tommy.  They both drooped with how worn out they were.

When Phil got there, Tommy moved towards the car like a dog dragged by a leash.  But there was no leash, only Wilbur and dried blood on his elbow.

Chapter Text

Maybe it was stupid to hide the flowers from everyone else in the house, but honestly, did Tommy only want people to love him because he was dying? 

Maybe it was stupid to risk his life (possibly) if the disease progressed, because he wouldn’t tell the person who was in charge of taking care of him that he was sick.  And Tommy could acknowledge that yeah, maybe he wasn’t too bright.  On his worse days, it was definitely true.

The worst part was that Tommy was an absolute wreck whenever he got sick.  Sure, he tried to hide it because most of his past houses had forced him to suck it up anyway, but at his most basic, most Tommy level, he was a very clingy, needy sick person.

And maybe it would have been fine if Tommy had been born to a family that could love and take care of him and put up with all of his clingy needs, but he hadn’t, and he wasn’t.  It wasn’t fair to Phil to cling on him just because he was under the weather, and it wasn’t like Tommy could explain his actions anyway, without inadvertently telling Phil that he loved him.

Tommy knew what he was growing now.  Two twin sets of hydrangeas, blue and pink respectively.  And also daffodils , bright and cheery and yellow.  They would be lovely if they weren’t in Tommy’s lungs.

Despite hiding his pitiful illness, the other people in the house definitely noticed.  Balance had been thrown off in the Minecraft house, and it was Tommy’s fault.  The air between Tommy and the family felt stiff and cold to him, in a way it never had before.  Even when he had first entered the house, it hadn’t felt this … unwelcoming. 

Everyone was still nice, still caring, still acting the same way they were before, but there was something beneath their actions, something Tommy was pretty sure was pretty sure he knew well.  It was “we're sorry, but this isn’t working out for us, you aren’t working out for us.”  It was “we don’t think this is the best environment for you.”

It was the beginning of the end.

(But it would be okay, right?  Because Tommy had steeled himself for this very thing, right?)

It started the day he woke up in the nest with Techno.  Or maybe it started the moment he ran into Techno in the hallway, and Tommy had just been too tired and inattentive to recognize that the house environment was starting to go downhill.

He’d been caught up in the dream and let him sweep away into something he knew that he would never have.  He was a fool.

It started that morning, but the walk with Wilbur had cemented the whole thing.  Of course.  Of course it would, because the moment he tried to do something like enjoy the few moments of good that he would have before he had to leave the Minecraft family forever (before the family made him leave forever) he had to wreck it. 

All Wilbur had tried to do was have a conversation.  Be nice.  Figure out if Tommy was adjusting well.  Heck, he even brought up adoption, which meant that he clearly just.  Didn’t know Tommy well yet, because no one in their right mind would adopt Tommy.  That issue would be cleared up soon.

But no, Tommy had panicked and wrecked the whole thing.  Wilbur tried to do something nice for him, show him around his possibly new hometown, and Tommy had a panic attack over something as simple as a question.  He made Wilbur use his allure. 

He was disgusted with himself, for acting like that.  He was sure, somewhere, beneath the smiles that Wilbur was painting onto his face, Wilbur was also disgusted with Tommy’s behavior.

Why else would his attitude towards Tommy change?

The final nail in the coffin was the drive home with Phil.  Tommy might have been okay, might have been able to break the frost that had been covering the other housemates in his foster family, but after the car ride, Tommy knew he had no chance.

He didn’t remember to car ride too well, to be honest.  Phil hadn’t been outwardly angry, not like a lot of foster parents that Tommy had had.  He was controlled.  God, even when Phil was angry at Tommy (and he had to be, at very least.  Or disappointed.  There was no universe in which Tommy got away with acting like this), he was still too nice to him.  All of them were far.  Too.  Nice.  They clearly didn’t want him around, they should have just called Angela and had her take him away already.  He didn’t deserve this.

(he’d already established that though, he was being selfish, selfish, so selfish).

Phil’s anger showed in other ways.

He wasn’t as upfront with his affection for Tommy, as if it had just entirely disappeared.  No, that wasn’t true.  He still invited Tommy to be with them, heck he still invited him into the nest when he caught Tommy watching it.  It felt more like a taunt than an invitation, because surely Phil knew at this point that Tommy couldn’t have that.  That he didn’t want him there, so Tommy couldn’t be there.  Phil seemed too nice to do something like that, but hey, maybe Tommy pushed him too far.  The same had happened with people before, so it wouldn’t be a surprise.

Maybe if Tommy hadn’t gotten so attached this wouldn’t hurt so much.  Scratch that, if Tommy hadn’t gotten so attached this definitely wouldn’t hurt as much.

But he had, and it did, and he didn’t know where to go for support, because his own self certainly wasn’t doing the job.  Did he even deserve help when all of his problems were of his own making?

But Tommy was selfish.

It had been so long since his last shift.  Nearly a month, since the last house hadn’t let him shift at all, because of course they wouldn't.  Who would let a shifted werewolf in their house willingly, that was stupid.  Tommy was dangerous, and Tommy was uncontrollable and a liability.  He was unlovable, even more so, when he was a wolf, so of course people didn’t want him like that.  It was unsightly.  He was losing control of the worst parts of himself, and his stupid instincts were startling to leak out and he didn’t really know how to stop it.  He wasn’t sure that he could, even if he had tried.

They seemed to understand that, at very least, even if they couldn’t like Tommy, they had basic decency to ignore or at least not pick on him harshly for the things he couldn’t help no matter how hard he tried. 

Tommy was tired, but he wanted to bounce off the walls.  Hungry didn’t even begin to describe what he felt like in the morning after going to sleep with less than the desirable amount of food.  Even though he could feel Wilbur and Phil and Techno trying to pull away, his instincts kept pushing him to chase after them.

Tommy was always clingy, although he could control himself out of necessity.  But contact was definitely one of his love languages, and this family seemed so willing to indulge him.  Keyword: seemed.  His brain, however, took their gentle touches in as signs of love, and his lungs latched onto the idea and suffocated.

In the days leading up to the full moon, he only got worse.  Wilbur and Techno got out of school, and that wasn’t fair, because now they were in the house all of the time.  And they were available for Tommy to be around.  And he really really really wanted to be around them, but they definitely didn’t want to be around Tommy because why would they want to be.

Who wanted to be around a random kid that took up space in your house and woke you up by throwing up and took advantage of your dad and had panic attacks when you tried to speak with him.  In what world was that an ideal brother or son?

Tommy still went through great lengths to cover up the hanahaki.  The flowers weren’t necessarily getting worse, which was good.  It meant that the disease wasn’t rapidly progressing, according to the article he’d found on it online.  It meant that Tommy probably wouldn't die from this, and that his lungs might not be pierced by plant stems, which Tommy counted as a win.

The disease was wearing him down though.  The constant attempt to hide his coughs and avoid clearing his throat too often when someone was nearby because what if a flower petal came out was absolutely exhausting.

Throwing up was hard to cover up.  It was pervasive, the smell would catch into everything, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t make it any quieter.  He was lucky that he hadn’t puked since that first night that he learned he had hanahaki.  He knew that he probably would have to again.

It was on one of the body’s defenses against hanahaki, the main way the flowers got cleared from his lungs and didn’t suffocate him.  Overall, puking was generally considered a positive sign in hanahaki patients, because it meant that they weren’t just suffocating and going to die soon from being choked from the flowers growing too strongly in their lungs.  

Tommy didn’t want to die.  Tommy wasn’t going to die.

Tommy didn’t want to stop loving the family either.  He didn’t want to be in pain forever.  If this lasted until the day he died, well … 

He was on the couch, reading … trying to read.  He wasn’t really sure what the book was about because he kept getting distracted in his own thoughts and having to read back over the words.  Honestly, he should probably be in his room, but everything seemed to hurt worse between those four walls he couldn’t even call his own.

Tommy knew that Wilbur and Techno didn’t like spending time with him, and probably didn’t want to do it after how the last two times had gone, so he hadn’t been expecting Wilbur to seek him out himself.

Usually, Tommy was listening, was paying attention, but he had grown lax in his time with the Minecrafts.  Yeah, he still kept out an alert for where everyone was, if he heard shouting and quick movement, and something felt off or he felt weird for whatever reason, his senses were out and ready to go, get him moving, get him to safety or as close to it as he could get.

Tommy hadn’t stopped using his instincts.  He couldn’t.  If he let himself let go of them now, he would hate himself for it later when he was in another house and in danger because he was relaxing when he should have been waiting for a strike.

But the  Minecraft house had been safe, even when they were angry or annoyed or hating Tommy, so he had let himself relax a little in it.  It was tiring to be aware all of the time, especially with the vines in his lungs drawing away his energy.

“Tommy,” Wilbur said, “I want.  I want to talk to you.  About.  I mean, about a lot of things but mostly what happened in the park.  Is that okay?”  It was odd to Tommy, how Wilbur seemed almost awkward when he approached Tommy, as if he didn’t hold all of the cards in his deck.

Older than Tommy?  Check.  Biological child?  Check.  Taller?  Definitely.

Actually loved? 

“Okay,” Tommy said, because really, how could he refuse?  What right did he have to stop Wilbur if the other wanted to berate him for it or tell him why it was unacceptable or ask questions because he was curious or stop him from getting whatever he wanted from Tommy.

Tommy wasn’t … it wasn’t important.  Enough people had made it obvious to Tommy that he knew that now.

Tommy curled into the side of the couch so that Wilbur had a good amount of space in order to sit, wanting to avoid crowding Wil.  Besides, the couch, while less comfortable than the nest (which he wasn’t going to go into, because boundaries , and he wanted to be allowed to stay in the house), was still comfortable and, more importantly, comforting.

“I’m really sorry,” Wilbur said, “I know I apologized before, but you’re still acting-I mean, you’re acting fine!  Just-”  Oh god.  Tommy had upset Wilbur, which he already knew he must have but by … what.  What was Wilbur trying to say, in his own polite, round-a-bout way.

“It’s fine, Wilbur,” Tommy insisted, not even sure why Wil was apologizing.  For taking him out for  a walk while he was sick?  But he had just been trying to be nice, and it wasn’t like Wilbur even knew he was sick then.  Heck, hopefully he still didn’t know Tommy was sick.  For being invasive?  But that was just-Wilbur was just trying to be nice.  He knew he didn’t know much about Wilbur, but he knew him well enough that he wasn’t going to hurt Tommy just for the fun of it.  No, if Wilbur hurt Tommy on purpose, there’d be a reason.  Tommy would have really screwed up. 

But Wilbur hadn’t been trying to hurt Tommy.  That made everything fine.  It wouldn’t be fair to be upset at Wilbur when he meant well.

“Okay, Tommy,” Wilbur said, “Thank you.”  Wilbur still looked awkward, still had that terrible, terrible look in his eyes that almost made Tommy cringe, but maybe Tommy had answered his question right.

The two sat in silence.  Tearing his eyes away from Wilbur and hoping that wasn’t rude, Tommy returned to his book. 

Then, it wasn’t silent.  Wilbur had his guitar and was strumming, gently at first, something or other.  Tommy didn’t know if it was one of Wilbur’s songs or if he was playing someone else’s song, but either way, the song was new to him.

“That’s a nice song,” Tommy told Wilbur unprompted.  The words dripped from his mouth, like water from a leaky faucet.  Uncontrollably and unpredictable.  Unwanted.  But Wilbur didn’t seem to mind.

“Yeah?” Wilbur asked.

“Yeah,” Tommy answered back sleepily.  It was getting later, he guessed, and the quality of his sleep had dropped significantly since he started coughing up flower petals.

“Do you want to listen to more?”  Tommy nodded, slowly, tucking his underneath the couch, content to sit and bask in the small connection Wilbur offered him.  Over the course of the songs, he felt more comfortable, cautiously bringing himself out of the corner of the couch into a more comfortable position.

If Wilbur didn’t like how close Tommy was to him, nothing in his demeanor changed to show it.  Tommy took that as a good sign.  Maybe it meant that he’d said something right in their last conversation.  Maybe it meant that Wilbur had forgiven him for whatever he’d done to make the whole family pissed at him.

Maybe it meant that he’d done well.

“Wilbur,” Tommy told him sleepily, “I’m tired.”

“So sleep,” Wilbur answered, “It’s okay.”

“Can’t,” Tommy admitted, “Feels bad.”  He shifted his neck to look at Wilbur’s face, but Wilbur didn’t look annoyed, just slightly relieved and worried (?).

“What feels bad,” Wilbur asked, “Can I do anything for you?”  Tommy shrugged.

“I want to sleep,” Tommy said, “I’m fine, I just want-”  His voice wandered off with his thoughts, and he trailed off.  “Um, help.”

“You sure?”

“Please.”  Wilbur sang, softly and slowly, Tommy drifted away.  The nest was only a few feet away, but Tommy found he didn’t long for it the way he had.  Who needed a nest when you had someone who you loved side to sleep on?

When he woke up in the middle of the night, still curled around Wilbur’s sleeping form, the flowers he coughed up were blue.

Chapter Text

The sun set through the window.  Although it was obscured by the woods and window pane, the red still tore through the sky like a thin cut.

The moon was hardly visible, just a ghost beside the sun.  A gibbous.  Tommy sighed and turned back towards the room he had hardly tried to make his own.

Twenty four hours.  He had twenty four hours until his body would betray him, and he’d be forced into his wolfy mode.

Tommy had been squirreled away in his room for most of the past few days, venturing out only for food or the bathroom.  And throwing up.  Facing Wilbur and Techno after he had individually fallen asleep on both of them was too embarrassing.

At this point, Tommy was only managing to hide the sickness from everyone else in the house by sheer vigilance.  Although sometimes, when Tommy was trying to scarf down the food as quickly as possible to minimize the amount of time he could screw up, with a cough or a petal or some other tell, he noticed Phil watching him like a hawk.  Outside of polite overtures however, Phil left him alone.

Tommy didn’t care about being left alone, he didn’t care about any of this.

He was relieved that he had room to hide the sickness.  He was .

As if the sickness itself wasn’t direct proof for everything he denied.

Tommy sighed and knocked out his lights.  He probably wouldn’t be sleeping for a while, but he might as well relax while he had the chance.

Thirteen hours before the moon rose, Tommy was eating breakfast with Technoblade.  Phil had left on a grocery run-because Tommy was eating too much, too often, he was being a burden, the Minecrafts didn’t deserve this god he was a mess- and Wilbur was still asleep.  Hah, he was such a sleepy boy.

Technoblade himself was still waking up, a little too foggy still to talk much.  Tommy was glad no one expected him to speak then, because his throat was sore from coughing.

Or maybe Techno just didn’t want to talk to Tommy anymore.  Suddenly, as much as Tommy didn’t want a conversation, he couldn’t let the silence stand between them.  This would probably be one of the last few times Tommy could talk to Techno on a marginally decent level, so he might as well go for it.

“T-” Tommy cleared his throat roughly, “Techno?”  He looked up at Tommy, and Tommy dodged his eye contact. 

“Yeah, Tommy?”  The silence Techno left was light.  Waiting, waiting.  God, this family was always waiting for Tommy.

“Good uh, good morning.”  Techno let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a chuff.  Tommy blushed, but the warmth spread from his cheeks to his heart.

“Good morning Tommy,” Techno said, “I-uh-know we’ve already bugged you about it, but you really set for tonight?” 

“I’m ready,” Tommy said, “It-I don’t need anything.”  Because Tommy didn’t.  It was far better for him to suffer through the hours than risk asking something too much.

“Alright then,” Techno said, turning, returning to his breakfast.  Tommy followed suit.  “If anything comes up, just let us know.  I mean, you already saw-” He gestured vaguely with his arms. “-what I’m like when I’m fully shifted and tired, so-yeah, don’t be afraid.  We all get it.”

You say you do, Tommy thought.

I wish you could.

“Thanks,” Tommy said.  He picked up his plate and rinsed it in the sink.

Seven hours before sunset, Tommy was in the kitchen with Phil.  He wanted-He wanted time with Phil, and helping with dinner was the best excuse he was going to get.

It wasn’t selfish if he was being helpful, right?

Right?

“So Tommy,” Phil said, “Tomorrow I was wondering if  you wanted to get out of the house?  I’ve got the day off, and obviously the boys aren’t in school right now.  I know you never got to see the city, so I was wondering-”  Tommy knew he shouldn’t, but the moment that Phil brought up tomorrow, as if Tommy was still going to be here, be wanted here the next day was a given.  As if he didn’t know …

… Well, Tommy guessed Phil really didn’t, yet.  Nothing spoke like hands on experience, after all.

“Uh,” Tommy started, “I- '' He couldn't’ get his words out.  What should he even say?  I really want to go, but you’re not going to want me too by the time I can?  I’m still sick with the same thing that stopped me from going the first time?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Phil said, “Or don’t want to choose now.  You can always change your mind.  Could you turn down the pasta?  It’s starting to boil over.”  Tommy nodded and turned down the stove.  Some of the water still boiled over and burnt on the edges of the burner.  He wrinkled his nose.

“We’re just about done,” Phil said, “Do you mind getting Wilbur and Techno for dinner?”

An hour before, Tommy was washing dishes.  It was relaxing, and it soothed his now overloading instincts to be around the rest of the family and helping out the rest of his pack (not his pack, not his, this was bad, heck).

He felt the tell-tale itch in his throat and hurried to finish up the dishes before he broke down coughing.

Twenty minutes before sunset, Tommy felt sick.  Really, really sick.  His stomach felt like it was being torn apart, and he regretted eating decently at dinner.  Extra energy wouldn’t help him during his shift if he never got the chance to digest it.

Ew, actually, that was gross.  Tommy chose to focus instead on the thump thump thump in his head, matching the hammering of his heart beat.  He coughed, bloody, petals sticking to his lips and elbow. 

Tommy was miserable.  He kept as quiet as possible, but he wouldn’t be able to hide the smell.  If the smell was bad for human-with-increased-senses Tommy, it was downright nauseating to nearly-shifted wolf Tommy.

Five minutes before Tommy shifted, he threw up, heads of hydrangeas and daffodils mixed in.  He felt too weak to clean it up, so he just crawled away.

A minute before his shift, Tommy could feel the weirdness in his muscles-awkwardness, from not shifting often enough.  Shifting had become rare, something he did only when the full moon came out rather than at will.  Shifting had become something that Tommy hid, something Tommy was afraid of rather than something Tommy felt peaceful in.

Tommy wanted control, needed control to feel safe, and right now, sick, on his floor, body changing involuntarily, he felt entirely the opposite.

Paws unsteady, Tommy stood.  He tasted iron in his jaw-his own blood, dripping into his fur.  It was gross.  It was wrong.

Tommy stretched his back, and nothing had ever felt more right.  The puddle in the middle of the floor was still gross.  He whined, making his displeasure known and creeped around it.  The door had been left open, just a crack, because human Tommy knew wolf Tommy might want to get out.

As lovely as his paws were, they didn’t open doorknobs well.

He creeped out of the room and pawed softly down the hallway.  It was only the start of sunset, hardly dark out, and the rest of the family was still quite awake.  Despite how much he wanted to find them (and cuddle and play!  And just be around them, because having a pack to cling to hadn’t been something Tommy had had in so long), fear ran through his veins.

Tommy couldn’t wash away the blood.  Tommy couldn’t wipe the stray petals.  Tommy couldn't see them, not until he was good and right.  Then, they’d want him as a pack member.

Uncertainty, he inched back into his own bedroom (well, the guest room, he guessed.  It wasn’t really Tommy’s.  They were going to be so pissed when they saw what he did to the floor, but it wasn’t like Tommy could do anything about it right now.  Guilt.  Guilt for wrecking something of his pack’s)

If he didn’t want to risk being seen, then he definitely couldn’t go through the rest of the house, but the window that was open slightly, leaking in the smell of the garden and the woods and freedom?  The window was fair game.

He felt kind of like a ferret, shoving his large body through the opening, and he knew he made a big noise when he thudded down in the backyard, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because, maybe he couldn’t be around the people he loved, but for the first shift in forever, he wasn't in a cage or weighed down by silver chains.

He could roam!  He could ignore the icky sinking feeling in his chest, and enjoy being a wolf for just one more night.

But eventually, roaming got tiring, and Tommy kind of wanted to just sleep.  It wasn’t like he could just sleep in the woods, though.  What if he didn’t get back in time in the morning?  Would he worry them?  Piss them off?  Both?  The thought of either alone was enough to turn Tommy off from the idea.

So, with the moon high in the sky, Tommy began slinking back in the direction of the house’s smell.

And then he heard it.  Shouts.  Voices.  Pack, his very in control, very wolf part of him murmured.

Still, even the wolf part of him knew instinctively, that he had done something wrong, been doing the wrong thing since he had gotten to the house.  Tail tucked back, head slumped in front of his shoulders in an odd position for a wolf, Tommy slunk towards the sound of Technoblade’s voice.

“Tommy?” Technoblade called out, voice nearly cracking when he peaked in volume.  Tommy answered with a  sharp, ashamed back.  In his wolf form, Tommy came up to about Technoblade’s waist.  Tommy wasn’t the largest of werewolves, wasn’t even full grown yet, but werewolves were big.

Instead of being intimidated (something Tommy wasn’t even sure Techno was capable of feeling) or annoyed or any of the thousands of other things Tommy had imagined him being in this moment, he was smiling.

“Hello there,” Techno said, as if he wasn’t facing a massive wolf with dried blood on his maw, “How are you doin’ there?  Can’t be too well, huh?  Sorry about that Tommy.”  Tommy bowed his head.  Tommy was the one who shouldn’t be sorry.  Tommy was sorry, if only there was a way for him to articulate it better.  He made a whine, one he had been told was annoying before (but a few houses had appreciated the submission, so Tommy could only offer it and hope).

“Do you mind if I-” Techno reached his hand forward.  Tommy thought it was a little weird to ask his permission before hitting him, but he moved his head ever so slightly.  Maybe Techno had just been talking to himself and didn’t want input from Tommy.

And then, there was a hand on his head.  Softly.  Gently.  Oh.  Tommy pushed his head forward, barely taking Techno’s balance into consideration.  Techno continued petting him and Tommy felt like he could die.  In a good way, for the first time in ages.

“Hey Tommy,” Techno said.  Tommy barked.  “Want to get back to the house?  Get cleaned up a little?”  Tommy very much didn’t want to face the rest of the household (but god, did he want to see them), but he also didn’t want Technoblade to abandon him.

He just wanted everything to stay like this.

Technoblade moved his hand away from Tommy, and Tommy whined.

“Come on, Tommy,” Technoblade encouraged, “You can come back out here another day.  We just need to … help you.  Don’t you want to see Phil and Wilbur?”  Yes.  No.  He wanted-What Tommy wanted wasn’t fair.  He wanted two brothers, and he wanted them to be Techno and Wilbur.  He wanted Phil and his wings, and he wanted Phil to be-

But he wanted too much that he didn't’ deserve.

He slunk into the house behind Techno.  This house didn’t put a leash on him, but by the way he was acting, they might as well have. 

The house looked much like it had the first time he had stepped through the front door, but his perspective was skewed, his height adjusted.  More though, there were memories attached to the couch now and the nest that lay beyond it.  The hallway no longer led to a terrifying unknown, but simply to the kitchen that Phil made him breakfast in and taught him the basics of cooking sandwiched between his work hours and dinner.

“I already texted Phil,” Techno said, “And Wilbur was waiting at the house.  Uh, Wilbur!”  Footsteps thudded from one of the rooms upstairs and thudded down the stairs.  Tommy’s room, from the sound of it.

Where he had-

-oh heck.

“Tommy!” Wilbur called, before running down the stairs, “Toms, god, you’re alright.”  He stopped in front of Tommy and knelt to his eye level.  Tommy shifted his eyes down and tucked his tail in.

Wilbur knew.  Wilbur had been in his room and what he would have seen was unmistakable.

“I’m going to get some water to take care of the blood,” Techno said, stepping away from the two, “If that’s alright.  Tommy, you can uh-if you aren’t okay with it, let me know as well as you can, okay?”

Then it was just Tommy, Wilbur, and the vines of Tommy’s secret pulling them inevitably closer.

“Are-” Wilbur started, only for several things to happen at once.

Technoblade slipped into the hallway.  The door swung open, and Phil’s scent hit Tommy’s nose.  His wolf brain took over, and Tommy bolted.  

Wilbur and Techno were being so nice, but sometimes foster siblings were until a parent got involved.

He skittered towards the nearest safe space-beneath a coffee table in the living room.  The small space couldn’t fit Tommy comfortably, but he didn’t care.  All he cared about was being safe and away.

Footsteps thudded towards him lightly.  He would have assumed the man was unhurried except for the thud thud thud of his stuttering heartbeat.

The shadow of wings cast over Tommy.

“Hey mate,” Phil said, and heck, now that he was closer, Tommy could smell the faded scent of his own sick on him, “Do you mind coming out of there?”

Chapter Text

Tommy didn’t even think when Phil asked him to get out of the table.  As much as he craved its protection, he knew that he was cornered.  Everything was only going to be worse if he disobeyed now.

Phil already had enough reasons to hurt him.

Tommy was already getting sent home.

He didn’t need to make it worse for himself.

“Thank you, Tommy,” Phil said once Tommy crawled out, sounding relieved, “we’ve got a lot to talk about, don’t we.  Let’s um.”  He looked at Tommy, who cowered uncomfortably on the kitchen floor.  “The living room would probably be more comfortable, right?  Is it okay if we head in there?”  Tommy gave a single nod, padding softly behind Phil.  Wil and Techno followed

“Tommy,” Phil started, once he and his sons had situated themselves on the couch, instead of the nest like it kind of looked like all of them were itching to do.

Tommy sat on the floor, tucked neatly beside the couch.  In past homes, even if he was allowed to shift, he hadn’t usually been allowed on furniture or other things reserved purely for actual people.

“I’m so sorry,” Phil said, looking down at him from his spot on the couch with the rest of his family.  Tommy knew where this conversation was going.  At least, he wasn’t wrong about Phil being a nice person, the kind of person who would let Tommy down gently rather than yell and kick him out (like Tommy probably deserved).  There would be no more illusion of Tommy being wanted, of him being part of their family.

Then maybe Tommy’s brain would get with the program and stop wanting that.

“I-I should have communicated better with you.  This is my fault and-”

“Dad,” Wilbur interrupted, “Dad, you can’t take the blame for this.”  Techno, from his corner of the couch, nodded.  And Techno were so close, so safe together.  Jealousy grew in his chest and itched in his throat.  Longing for brotherhood, for family, was useless.

From experience, he knew he couldn’t have it.

Tommy whined.  The sound was embarrassing.  It was wrong.  But he was so vulnerable, he was alone and his pack was snuggling without him because they didn’t love him, and it was all Tommy’s fault.

“Aww,” Phil said, surprising Tommy.  “Aww” was not usually the response werewolf whining elicited.  Slipping off the couch, Phil approached Tommy.  “Can I-” Phil paused his speech for a moment as he stopped in front of Tommy.  Anxiously, Tommy averted his eyes to the floor.  This was it.  The moment Phil told Tommy, however nicely or honestly he chose to phrase it, that he couldn’t stand having Tommy any longer.  “Can I touch you?”

Instead of nodding his head, Tommy shoved himself forward into Phil.  Holding himself back was hard enough while he was human, and even harder when he was a wolf.

Tommy didn’t care if Phil hit him or started his lecture on everything that was wrong with Tommy or rejected him in a few seconds.  Because right now, Phil was letting Tommy nudge him and he was petting him and talking to Tommy, not how he would talk to a dog, but how he talked to Wilbur and Technoblade.

Like Tommy was worth it.

Running his hands down Tommy, Phil comforted him.  If Tommy had been watching, he would have noticed the twins' concerned eyes on the two, but all Tommy could focus on was Phil and how much he felt loved and then how much he wasn’t.

“Tommy,” Phil said, once Tommy had settled a little bit, “I have something very important to tell you.  There is nothing in this world that could make me hate you, okay?  Especially not this.  You’re-Tommy you are ever bit yourself as a wolf as you are a human, okay?  And every bit as wanted.”

Again, Tommy whined, because surely he didn’t mean that.  Phil shuffled, and all of a sudden, Tommy was safe and warm and oh those were wings, weren’t they?

For a moment, he felt safe and protected.  Tommy was with his pack, everything was going to be perfect, he’d learn how to believe everything Phil told him and then-

-he coughed.  It was awkward, in wolf form, even more awkward in the comforting position he was in.  The coughing didn’t stop.  Phil pulled him out of his tight embrace, though his hands didn’t leave Tommy.

“It’s okay,” Phil said, “It’s going to be okay.”

But it wasn’t.  That-Phil wasn’t telling the truth.

“I love you, everything will be okay,” Phil lied.

Tommy hacked up a couple red-stained flower petals.  He tasted iron in his mouth.  If he had been human, he probably would have blushed.  Instead, Tommy tucked his tail between his legs and cowered.

“Oh Tommy, baby, Phil said, “I’m sorry.  We’ll-we can talk about that in the morning.  When we have all rested, and you can talk in a way we understand, alright?  I promise I love you.  We all love you.”

After standing up (away from Tommy, now he was cold and where was Dad going.  Had Tommy done something wrong-wait yeah, of course he had.), Phil walked over to the nest.  Technoblade wandered after him, and Wilbur-

“-Join us?” Wilbur said, like it was a question, like it was a choice.

In that moment, Tommy didn’t have the energy to refuse.

Wrapped up in Phil’s wings was the nicest way to spend his last night with the Watson’s, anyway, Tommy thought.

When morning came, Tommy had a few moments of forgetful bliss before the events of yesterday crashed down on him.  He startled, and beside him, did as well.

“mornin’ Tommy,” Phil said, as if his world wasn’t falling directly on his head.  Which Tommy guessed, his wasn’t.  If Tommy was gone, nothing would really change, would it?  Definitely not for the worse.

Tommy let out a neutral whine in response.  His tail twitched uncertainly.

Crap.

Phil was going to be annoyed

He was still a wolf.  That wasn’t allowed.  Everyone told him he shouldn’t indulge in his shifted side longer than he had too.  Everyone told him that they didn’t want him around.  Everyone found him annoying at first, and their annoyance would only grow with time

This wasn’t allowed.  Nobody wanted this and he needed to shift now, this was the definition of taking advantage of nice people, wasn't it?  Tommy was being so bad right now, wow, he really deserved to be sent away, he needed to-

-Tommy clenched his sharp teeth and shifted.

Immediately, he wanted to crawl out of the nest and die.  If he had thought his actions were bad while he was still in clingy wolf mode, they only seemed so much worse now.  Oh god.  They knew.  Not just about how Tommy acted as a wolf, the terrible mix of suspicion and clinginess, but the hanahaki.  The hydrangeas and daffodils growing in his lungs as a reminder of things he couldn't have.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said immediately, “I didn’t mean-I didn’t-I shouldn’t have hidden things from you.  Or have intruded in your nest.  I-I can go upstairs and pack.”  Phil was the nicest foster parent that Tommy had had by far, and as much as he wanted to stay, he didn’t want to make the process harder on Phil.  “Actually, I have Angela’s phone number right on me, if you need it, so-”

“Tommy,” a monotone voice exacerbated by sleep said, “You aren’t goin’ anywhere.”

“Hmm?” Another sleep voice said, “Techno you just hit me in the-” Wilbur poked his head up “-oh, it’s morning.”  With watchful eyes, Tommy observed the scene.  Both Wilbur and Techno were relaxed, but just like with Phil, that didn’t really mean anything.  

“Tommy,” Phil said, diverting Tommy’s attention back to himself, “I do need to talk to you though.  Would you rather do that before or after breakfast?”  There was silence, like there always was, after someone asked Tommy a question.  How, after all this time, were they still this patient?

“Now’s fine,” Tommy said quietly.

“Alright then,” Phil said, “It is okay if Wilbur and Techno are here?”  Tommy thought.  Even though this was probably going to be simultaneously one of the most painful and embarrassing moments of his life, he had limited time left with Wilbur and Techno.  It was selfish to make them spend more time with him, but well.

Tommy would be gone soon enough.

(Too soon, if the crying inner wolf had anything to say about it.)

“They can stay.”  Although his back was turned to them, Tommy could still hear the two brothers shuffling in the blankets, shuffling closer to Tommy until they were all in some sort of screwed up duck duck goose formation.

“Have you heard of hanahaki before?” Phil asked.

“Yeah.”  Tommy blushed.  He wasn’t completely stupid.

“That’s good,” Phil said gently, not even a hint of condescension in his voice, “Do you know how it works?”

Tommy focused his eyes on the blankets woven beneath him.  A wide array of colors, still warm from where Tommy had been sleeping with stray wolf hairs plastered throughout.

“Yeah.”  A thoughtful silence filled the room, and Tommy realized they expected him to continue.  “It’s a sickness that makes flowers grow in your lungs,” Tommy started, “It isn’t usually fatal, but it’s … really uncomfortable.”  Phil made a noise of assent.

“Basically,” Phil said, “god, Tommy, I’m so sorry.”

He’s sorry he can’t love you.

“It’s not your fault I’m like this,” Tommy said, “You can’t help I’m not lovable.”  The room fell dead silent before Wilbur let out a noise of confused hurt.

“What?”  There was only confusion and worry in Phil’s voice, but all Tommy could hear was the sharp question.

“ … I have three plants,” Tommy started, looking up to meet everyone’s eyes.  Despite knowing that no explanation was going to make them less angry, he still rushed to get the words out.  “I um.  I know how hanahaki works.  You guys don’t love me.  You can’t-”  Tommy cut himself off when he felt tears come to his eyes.  “You don’t want me,” he choked out, “It’s okay, it’s the truth-”

“It’s not,” Wilbur said, interrupting Tommy, “Tommy, that isn’t right at all.  Who told you that?”  There was thinly veiled rage wrapped around Wilbur’s words. Tommy shrugged.  Behind Tommy, there was a shuffling noise.  Then Wilbur was there, close enough to touch, but Tommy had never felt more alone.

“One of my past houses.”  

“They lied,” Techno said, “They-hanahaki-it’s not.  It’s a result of thoughts, not whether someone actually loves you.

“What?”  Tommy’s mouth felt dry.  He didn’t understand.  Everything had just been tipped on its head.

“Tommy,” Phil said, “Please look at me.  Just for a moment.”  When Tommy did, Phil smiled.  His eyes looked impossibly sad, almost as close to crying as Tommy felt, but the corners of his mouth tipped up when Tommy met his eyes.  “I love you,” he … lied?  “This past while with you in the house has been … incredible.  You are another piece of my family, and I wouldn’t dream of getting rid of you.  You’re like my son.  If you wanted it, I would adopt you in a heartbeat.”

That couldn’t be right.  That couldn’t be right, because Tommy still had flowers in his lungs, and it still felt like the world was crashing down around him.

That couldn’t be right, because nobody had ever said that before, because “love” wasn’t something people felt toward Tommy.

“You can’t mean that,” Tommy insisted, “You can’t-Phil, nobody wants that.  Nobody.  Why would-who would-”

“I do,” Wilbur said softly.  Techno echoed him.

“I mean it,” Phil said, “I want that.  Tommy-I meant what I said.  In a heartbeat.  There’s no rush for me, you’re already my family.  Do you want that?”

Tommy sobbed.

He was a monster, he was selfish, he was tired, and he couldn’t believe half of what they told him yet.  But, he wasn’t alone.

“Yes,” Tommy let himself say despite his fears and guilt, “I want-” His crying cut off his words, and he was enveloped in the arms of his family.  Techno made a chuffing noise, and a hand wove itself into his hair ever so gently.

Wings wrapped up all three of them.  Tommy could think of a thousand different outcomes, but why would he want to?

His pack was here, and when Tommy hugged them back, he didn’t feel an itch in his throat.