Chapter Text
“Dream is not my friend.” He whispered. “He’s- He's just watching me.” The words shattered the fragile peace he had built and Tommy let himself crumble, pressing his face into his hands. This shouldn’t hurt him so much. He was a big man, he and Dream had fought before. He should know Dream wasn’t his friend. Should scream it loud and proud like he did before. Dream wasn’t his friend.
Nobody was. He was alone. High up on the tower he had built in a fit of fury and sorrow at losing everything he had worked for.
With one wrong move, he’d fall. The tower he had built was massive, high enough that the ground below was just a smear of green. If he looked down, he knew he would see the crater of his home prison.
Would anyone find him? Would anyone care to look? Would they build him a memorial like they did for Wilbur, host a funeral? Think about the boy he was and say “oh man, we should have been better friends. Tommy was so cool”?
Or would his body rot in dust at the base of the pillar? Alone and forgotten forever while the world kept on spinning?
Tubbo was off doing presidential shit with Ranboo, Fundy, and Quackity, and yeah, Ranboo had visited but those were pity visits. And he didn’t visit anymore. His letters had gone unanswered for weeks.
Jack was- Jack wasn’t coming back. If he had ever visited in the first place, the day had seemed to go by in a blur. Technoblade had shown up to mock him and then leave without a care in the world like the fucker he was. Any pity visits had stopped a long time ago. Philza hadn’t even bothered to show up because why would he? Tommy was just some random kid Wilbur took pity on, decided to take under his wing. A little toy that deluded himself that the three had actually cared about them, that when they said family, they had meant it.
MD and Wilbur were dead.
Ghostbur was gone. The smears of blue had faded from his camp long before the explosion tore it apart.
Who would look for him?
Dream would, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind, he’d come look for you.
“Because he’s fucking with me.” Tommy whispered as if saying it would make it feel more true. “I’m like a fucking toy or something to him. He said it himself.”
He rocked slightly, thinking it over. Uncaring of how it made him wobble, that one wrong movement would send him over the edge. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t go back to L’manburg because he had been exiled. They’d kill him. Dream would kill him. But he couldn’t stay here.
He wasn’t going to let Dream mess him up more. Wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction of pushing him around, saying things and expecting him to hop to it like a fucking dog. This exile was never going to end as long as Dream thought messing with his head was unfunny. He knew the bastard wouldn’t let it end.
But where did that leave him? Tommy let out a shaky breath, looking down at the ground below.
He didn’t know where to go next. He could go down, let the fall take him to Wilbur. But. Dying meant that Dream would win. Forever, because he couldn’t play the game any longer. Couldn’t protect his friends until they wised up and realized that as long as Dream was around, the war that began with a Declaration of Independence would never really end.
But where to go next? What to do?
“He’d be so pissed if I ran away.” Tommy said, the idea dawning on him. He could almost see Dream throwing a bitch fit in his mind’s eye, standing in the center of an empty camp. The thought filled him with delight and revulsion.
“He’s not my friend.” He reminded himself, shoving down the revulsion. No matter how much that little voice whispered that Dream cared, that he would be worried if he discovered Tommy missing. He wasn’t being a bad friend, Dream was. “The fucker doesn’t care.”
L’Manburg might not want him back but he was a big man! He could leave, build his own bunker. Come back with netherite armor and weapons, better ones this time, and end the war that Dream had started.
He teetered for a moment, looking down at the ground. The view was dizzying. Up here, he could see how small his beach really was, even smaller than L’Manburg when the walls went up. But in L’Manburg, he hadn’t felt so trapped.
In Pogtopia, he had.
“I’m not letting him win.” Tommy mumbled. His eyes caught on a little patch of blue below, a pond. He knew the one, it was muddy and gross, and he used to use it to take a bath before he started waking up in the ocean and the baths seemed kind of useless.
Now, it looked like the softest landing zone he could see. Tommy took a deep breath, mentally calculating the jump. He could totally make that. He had massive muscles, a little hop like this was a piece of cake.
In. Out. Tommy sucked in a deep breath. And jumped.
His comm beeped.
What the fuck? Tommy’s hand started to drift torwards it until gravity decided to be a bitch and then it was all he could do to not let the wind ripping by him rip his arm out of his socket. Distantly, he could hear screaming that definitely wasn’t his because it was far too shrill for his manly voice.
He spun in the air, flailing. Green. Blue. Green bluegreenbluegreenblue- he couldn’t tell where he was going anymore, if the blue was from the pond or the sky-
Was he going to make it? Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see if he missed, if he jumped wrong.
His outstretched hand brushed against something hard-
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The water hits him like a blow, forcing the air out of his lungs.
Tommy choked as he went under, frantically paddling his hands. It was cold, cold enough that after a few seconds, his muscles were already beginning to ache. He choked again as water slipped into his mouth instead of air, disgustingly salty.
With a gasp, his head broke the surface and he frantically paddled to keep it up, his coughing threatening to send him back under.
He choked again as a wave struck him in the face, forcing him back down. The next time he surfaces, he forces his eyes open despite how much the salt burned.
Shock locks his limbs for a moment and it’s only his godly reflexes that stop him from slipping under. That and the wave that slaps him in the face because the ocean is a rude ass bitch.
Yeah. The ocean.
Was he hallucinating again? When he jumped, it was into a pond. Not in the middle of the fucking ocean. He had astounding muscles but he was pretty sure he’d notice getting carried out to sea.
...maybe.
For a moment, he treads water, debating what to do. Was it even worth it to swim back? Maybe this was the world telling him it was finally his time. Maybe he should finally sink into the cold darkness and let himself go.
His kicks slowly begin to slow, the water lapping high and higher. The first mouthful grates against an already worn throat and he nearly snaps out of it, nearly deciding it isn’t worth it.
But you’ve already broken your exile, a tiny voice whispered, you’re already going to get in trouble. Why not skip that?”
Why not? He was tired of fighting. All of the strength he had scraped together at the top of the pillar was gone now, sapped from him by the cold. There was no way he could swim back to shore even with his massive muscles.
When his head slipped under again, he didn’t fight it. It was his time to die.
Tommy tilted his head up, watching how the light danced over the water. A shadow distorted it, twisted it. Were he a more poetic person like Wilbur, he’d list off dramatic metaphors. Something weird like how the shadow in the water was like life or whatever.
But he wasn’t. So, instead? He was going to wonder how long it took to drown.
A splash. A dark shape cutting through the water.
Hands wrapped around his shoulders, dragging him up. Tommy struggles but the other person doesn’t seem to care, the pull steady as they swam towards the surface. He reached up, yanking at the hands, but they didn’t budge.
Was it Dream? Terror made his heart beat fast and he pulled harder, trying to rip their hands off. Had Dream found out what he was trying to do? Was he about to be punished?
Above him, the shadow solidified into the bottom of a wooden boat. Tommy struggled harder. He was ready! It was his time! Gods, just let him go!
And then the hands let go.
He tried to kick away, paddling desperately, but was too late as someone grabbed his shoulders and pulled so hard it felt like they were going to pull his arms out of their sockets. Tommy choked as his head broke the surface of the water, salt water trickling into his eyes.
With one last pull, he was yanked into the boat, choking and spluttering. Warm hands pressed on his chest, forcing him to choke up water until his throat was raw. His eyes stung from the seawater, making the world blurry and indistinct.
“That’s it.” The person murmured. “Easy now. That looks like it hurts.”
“Let go of me!” Tommy howled, twisted in their grip. Screaming tore at his throat, filling his mouth with an acrid tang that didn’t come from seawater but he didn’t give a fuck. He slammed his elbow back, lunging for the side of the boat.
He wasn’t going to let some assholes put their hands all over him. He growled as hands tried to pull him back, kicking and twisting. Someone pushed him back into the boat, making it rock and twist. Blearily, he could see someone in the water, their forearms resting on the side of the boat.
“Calm down!” Tommy snapped, narrowly missing a hand. “Mate, come on, you’re going to go back into the water if you keep fighting like this.”
“Good!” Tommy snapped, trying to head butt them. “Fuck you! Fuck off! Don’t touch me!”
Dimly, he could hear them speaking but he didn’t care. It just went through one ear and out the other. He had to get back to the ocean. He’d rather deal with that than whatever punishment Dream would devise.
“It’s okay, we just want to take you to land.” Hands pressed into his chest, trying to shove him into the other. Tommy threw himself to the side, nearly capsizing the boat.
“I’m not letting you take me back.” He said fervently. The metallic tang in his mouth had gotten stronger and it made him gag, his struggles pausing for a brief moment while his stomach lurched and twisted, trying to throw up but too empty to. He flinched away when a warm hand landed on his back, someone rubbing circles in between his shoulder blades like he was a fucking kid in need of soothing. “Fuckyoufuck-“
“Take a deep breath.” Boat stranger said, their hand staying between his shoulder no matter how much he tried to squirm away. Tommy gagged again before forcing himself to inhale, fighting down the urge to vomit. “Where are you even going, mate? That’s just the ocean and you didn’t seem to be too well at swimming your way to land.”
“Fuck you.” Tommy snarled. “Fuck you, just leave me alone.”
“Grian, he’s not listening.” The stranger in the water groaned, pulling themselves a bit higher, more into the boat. Fuck. “Hit him with the potion, I’m not going to let him drown himself after I pulled him out of there.”
Double fuck.
Tommy screeched, kicking them in the face. There was a shocked gasp and he dove for the other side of the boat. Not today motherfuckers! He was going to escape-
A glass bottle cracked across his head and he gasped as he collapsed to the bottom of the boat, all the strength draining out of his muscles. He wheezed, trying to push himself up, only for his arms to give out halfway and send him crashing back down.
Warm hands slipped underneath him before he could give himself a concussion. They deftly flipped him over and Tommy growled softly as the blurry form of something manhandled his face, tilting it back and forth.
If it wasn’t for the weakness potion, he’d kill em.
Fuck. This was- fuck, it was bad. Back in the drug van, they would have called this the good shit. It took a lot to brew a weakness potion that worked so quickly. Wilbur had only ever made one batch of three before shelving the idea of selling them on a larger scale and his brother had been the best brewer ever, second only to his Pog skills.
He’d snuck a sip of one, he remembered hazily. Wanted to show he was a big man after Wilbur teased him by saying he wasn’t allowed to try the potions because he was a kid. He’d gotten dizzy and knocked a table over trying to get the bucket of milk he had prepared, the clattering sound alerting Wilbur. The potion cabinet had a lock on it afterwards and he had never seen the weakness potions again. Too hard to make.
Unless you were a fucking cheater loser admin whose name rhymed with meme.
There was- fuck, he knew there was a time frame or something before it fully kicked in. Already he could feel himself getting weaker, weak flails slowing until he trembled at the bottom of the boat. Against his will, he yawned.
A full bottle.
Fuck.
“He doing alright?”
“Oh, he’s going under quick.” They said, Tommy growled when he saw them lean in, probably checking his eyes or something. There was something that happened in the eyes but he couldn’t remember what. They got bigger? Fuck, whatever. “The potion hit him hard. He must sleep less than you do.”
“Hey!” Another voice chimed in. “Pot calling the kettle black there.”
The boat rocked and Tommy groaned as his stomach lurched again. It felt like the time he had drunk too many strength potions during a fight and made himself sick. Wilbur had laughed at him afterwards, holding his hair back as he puked his guts out. That day felt like it was a million years ago.
He swatted feebly at them when their hands came back, missing by a mile. “Easy there.” They said. “You’re safe. We’re just going to take you to our admin and he can work this out.”
Admin. Tommy’s mind latched onto that word with the ferocity of a bear. Dream was the admin. He squirmed, trying to pull away with the last of his strength. “No no no, can’t see him, don’t take me.” He pleaded. The words came out in stumbles, slurred and twisted. His tongue felt like it was too big for his mouth.
Dream would be so mad if he knew what he did. And just after he had already messed up. They’d kill him, they really would and he would deserve it because he had been bad-
A glass bottle broke across his chest. Tommy slumped back, feeling woozy. Involuntarily, his eyes closed, his thoughts feeling like they were moving through sludge. “Grian!” The stranger snapped.
“He was panicking! I wasn’t going to let him hurt himself or capsize the boat. One more dose shouldn’t hurt him. Just make him go to sleep quicker.”
The person in the water sighed, all fond exas- exsp- Tommy groaned a bit, his cloudy thoughts not providing the right word. How dare they. He was going to submit a complaint. When he settled back down, it was in somebody’s lap, his head cushioned against their chest. Their arms wrapped around him, a comfort and a cage.
“You gotta admit I’m right mate, he’s settled down now.” Tommy let out a little grumbly sound at the noise, yawning widely. He heard a soft coo, something strangely birdlike that made the back of his head perk up. Wilbur used to do that sometimes when he was happy. It filled his chest with a warm fuzzy feeling. “Aw, did you like that?”
“He’s sweet if you ignore that he kicks like a mule.” Somebody said. Tommy made another little grumbling sound. He just wanted them to be quiet. He was so tired. So tired. He tried burrowing into whatever he was laying on, ignoring the choked splutters.
“Gods, no, ach, you’re wet and freezing.” They complained. There was a soft snort.
“Of course, he’s wet and freezing. I just pulled him out of the ocean. I’m wet and freezing.” They complained. Tommy let out a short whine as he was lifted up, away from the warmth. This had to be illegal. Somebody needed to call the police. He needed that.
“Hey, shush, I’m just trying to keep my wings from getting wet. I don’t think you know just how hard it is to clean them.” They said. “I’ll put you back down in a minute and then we can get you back to land. Gods, you’re shivering so much.”
Was he shivering? He didn’t feeling like he was. Couldn’t feel much of anything beyond the warmth. His fingers felt strangely numb and cold seemed to have seeped into every bone in his body. Tommy blinked slowly, his thoughts loose and calm.
“I’ll help you preen afterwards. He ready to go? I’m ready to take him back to Xisuma.” The stranger said. Ugh, why did they keep talking? Tommy whined as the hands shifted again before hissing in pain as a spark of pain snapped through his body, making him arch and twist away from the twist.
“Oh, well, that’s not a good sign.” Tommy hissed as warm hands returned to his side. Distantly, he could tell that his shirt was getting lifted up. He tried to swat but it was more of a sleepy fumble, one hand catching his and pressing it back down. “Easy. Mumbo, he’s hurt.”
“Does he need a potion?” There was the soft hiss of an inhale and Tommy whined as warm hands prodded his side, trying to squirm away. “Grian?”
“Definitely not. You try to put a potion on this and it’ll definitely heal wrong. Let’s get him back home. Doc and Stress can check him over.” The hands carefully pressed him down into a warm chest and Tommy hummed, snuggling into it. Now that was more like it. He was ready for a nice long nap. “There we go. Wait. Uh. How am I going to paddle the boat?”
“I have no idea mate. You have a good time with that.” There was the soft crackle of an explosion and Tommy yelped, lurching away from the warmth in fear. There was- there was something bad about the sound but he couldn’t remember what it was just that he needed togetawayrightnow beforeithurtshim-
Warm hands pressed him back down. “Easy, easy. It’s gone now.” They said. “Guess it’s just me and you now.”
Tommy hummed in answer, eyes beginning to drift close. He really hoped they weren’t expecting a talk or anything. He was so tired. Just so tired.
“Mate, you’re pretty messed up.” They said with a sigh. One hand lifted away and whatever he was resting on began to rock. Distantly, Tommy could feel a little voice in the back of his head begin to scream. But he didn’t care. This person wa so warm and soft and he was so tired.
He felt safe. He didn’t remember when he last felt safe. Didn’t remember if he ever really felt safe. His sleep had been plagued by nightmares of boar masks and burnt wings overshadowing pools of blood. Of yellow boxes and a smiley face. Sleeping was an uncertain, tense process.
But right now? Right now, it felt good. Nice. Tommy pressed his cheek into the soft material of the person’s shirt, letting the rocking lull him and the words wash over him like a wave. Nothing mattered.
“-And that’s coming from me, I thought I held the record, honestly! Don’t tell Xisuma I said that, I don’t want to go to cuddle therapy again because he found out I was joking about that. Got builds to make and pranks to pull off!”
“But anyways, you’re safe now. We’ll help you. You won’t have to ever feel scared or frightened again.”
In the back of his head, something was screaming. But he couldn’t open his eyes. Couldn’t do much at all honestly. Tommy yawned, feeling the rich blackness reach up to take him. How bad could it be?
He just wanted to feel safe again
“You’re one of ours now.”
Tommy came awake to a starburst of pain in his stomach and he groaned, trying to squirm away from prodding hands. It felt like he had only been sleeping for mere moments before getting dragged back to face torture.
Distantly, he felt a hand stroke his cheek. “Its okay.” Someone said. He didn’t recognize their voice or their thick accent. It sounded like a woman, but he wasn’t sure of that either. What he was sure of was that he wanted to go back to sleep and they were interrupting it. “Just hold still, we’re not done yet.”
Something cold touched his stomach and Tommy whined, trying to squirm away. There was a soft sigh from the lady. “I’ll hold him down. You take over from here.” Tommy whined again, his heart beginning to beat faster as heavy hands pressed down on his shoulders. There was an answering murmur from above him and Tommy flinched. He didn’t recognize that voice either.
This time, when he tried to squirm away at the first spark of cold and pain, the hands pressed down, holding him in place. Tommy weakly snapped at one but all he got was a soft chuckle. “Fierce little one.” They said.
He wasn’t little! Tommy opened his mouth to tell them this but all that came out was a weak sigh as they pressed down slightly on his stomach. There was a strangely tight feeling there now like the time he had to get stitches in his arm. “How’s it looking Stress?” The man said.
“Better. He’s still going to have scarring but as long as he goes easy on the exercise and relaxes a bit for a few months, it should heal without any issue. Let’s get him in the pajamas we have, I don’t like how he’s shivering.”
Tommy let out a sigh of pure relief as something warm and soft was wrapped around him, his arms gently pulled through the shirt sleeves. It felt so much nicer than before, all soft and cozy. Distantly, he heard someone cooing. “Oh, you’re just a soft little kid, aren’t you?” The woman cooed. “Just a bit of affection and you melt instantly.”
“Grian and Mumbo said he fought them pretty hard. “The other person said. A hand cupped his cheek and Tommy hummed, pressing his face into it. “Got in a couple of good hits too. I already put potions on any bruises they have.”
This was a nice dream, he decided. He hadnt like the pain and cold in the beginning, but this? This was nice. He wanted to stay here just a bit longer and not wake up yet.
“Oh, he doesn’t look like he could hurt a fly. He’s far too skinny.” The hand gently stroked his cheek. “I think he’s awake enough, we should see if he’ll take some food and water. It’s risky, but I don’t like the idea of letting him sleep it off while hungry and thirsty.”
Tommy hummed. Food? Food sounded good. His stomach felt empty, twisting and gnawing. “You don’t-” The words came out slurred and twisted. It took too much effort to speak. But he needed to. They needed to know that they- that they didn’t have to make themselves care for him. He tried to shift a bit, but the hand moved to his chest, pressing him down.
It might be just a dream but Tommy had learned how he was a bother to most people. He didn’t want to bother these people too and have this dream turn into a nightmare.
“Of course, we’re feeding you. You don’t have to go anywhere.” The man rumbled. “Just hold still, and she’ll bring it over.”
“That’s right.” The woman said with a chuckle, sitting down next to him. He felt the bedsheets move but still, he couldn’t seem to open his eyes. It felt like a herculean task trying to pry them open, the blackness all he could see. Tommy flinched back as something cold pressed against his lips. “Open wide.”
“I’m not a baby.” Tommy whined. He could feed himself. But when he told his arms to move, they didn’t move.
“We know you’re not.” The man said. “But you need to rest. Lie back and let us take care of you.”
Tommy automatically went limp. Did he go too far? Was the happy dream going to fade away now? This time, when the spoon touched his lips, he opened his mouth, obdeiantly eating the food.
He nearly cried out of joy. The food was so delicious, more delicious than anything he had eaten in months. All the stringy meat and dry bread couldn’t even compare. Applesauce, delicately sweet, and with just a bit of a tingle to it. He gulped it down, relishing in the taste. This dream was so much better than he thought.
“Slowly.” The lady admonished. The spoon arrived far too slow for his liking and eventually, he heard the clatter of a bowl being set aside. He was almost grateful for it, he had passed into being full a few bites ago but she had showed no signs of stopping. “Do you have the water?”
“Right here.” The man said. A straw slipped into his mouth but Tommy spat it out. His stomach felt uncomfortably full after the applesauce and this was dream water, it didn’t matter if he drank it or not. “Kid, it’s time to take a drink.”
“No.” Tommy whined. “‘M full.”
He wanted to go back to sleep. His stomach felt strangely bloated, stretched a bit to far after months of forgetting to eat regularly. He’d say he’d eat and drink once he woke up but he was pretty sure he knew he was lying to himself.
There was a soft sigh and the straw pressed into his mouth again and Tommy flinched as a hand pressed down on top of it. Not enough to stop him from breathing, no, but enough that he couldn’t spit out the straw. “Drink.” They commanded.
Tommy drank.
It tasted fantastic and as soon as he had a sip, he realized how dry his mouth was and how nice the cool, sweet water tasted. Eventually, he must have pleased them and the cup was moved away. Tommy yawned, his stomach feeling overly full and making him sleepy. It was nice but he knew when he woke up, his stomach would be aching again, screaming out for food that he didn’t have the energy to collect.
“There we go.” He heard someone whisper. Soft blankets were tucked in around him and Tommy hummed, snuggling into them. “Time for you to go back to sleep.” Tommy could barely hear the words, his mind already beginning to fuzz over again.
He didn’t want to go to sleep. He clung to this feeling, of being awake and surrounded by safety. Of having soft, warm blankets tucked around him instead of the one scratchy blanket he had crafted that stunk of sheep. He didn’t want this dream to end.
“Was the dosage right?” He heard the man ask. “He drank a bit more of the water than I was expecting. Will that throw it off?”
“Perfect. In fact, the water will probably help the potion be a bit more effective” He heard the woman say. “Now we just need to keep an eye on his health and let him sleep off the exhaustion. After that, we’ll make plans.”
Tommy made a quiet hm sound and was rewarded with a hand in his hair, gently combing through it. “Oh, kid, you need to be sleeping now.” He heard something whisper. They gently scratched at his scalp and Tommy hummed. That felt nice. The soft gentle movement finally tipped him over the edge. Before he knew it, he was asleep again.
“It’ll take me at least a few hours to identify where he came from.” Xisume said, looking at the code between his hands. It broke his heart to see it. The code was hopelessly snarled and twisted, some sections missing and the others shattered remnants of what they should be.
It was like someone had dragged their fingers through every inch of code, weaving in poisonous influence. That could not be healthy. Xisuma frowned down at it. When he adjusted code, he did it with the player’s best interest in mind. This work was just sloppy.
“Are you going to send them back?” Grian asked. Xisuma looked up, taking in how they were nervously hunched over in their chair, their colorful wings curled in until they looked far younger than they were.
“Of course not.” He rushed to say, dismissing the codes. He strode over to Grian, pressing one hand to the back of the other’s neck. It gladdened him to see Grian melt under his touch. It had taken years for Grian to overcome his fearful response to touch but the Hermits had been patient every step of the way. “Why would you think that?”
Grian flinched, looking away. Expecting punishment no doubt. His past admins had been so terrible to him. Xisuma crouched next to him, draping one arm over his shoulder. Grian leaned into it. I know you won’t. I’m just- I guess I’m scared.”
“Why.” Xisuma pressed. Grian had been making such good progress talking to them. This was a good time to reinforce that.
“He’s just so skinny and his hands were so messed up. They’re filled with so many splinters, it looks like he’s just been punching trees instead of using an axe even though everyone knows you should use a tool. And then there’s the shrapnel and how easily he fell asleep and-” Grian panted heavily, shaking slightly. Xisuma hummed, glancing up at the door. Doc met his eyes, placing the last potion back on the shelf. Without a word, the creeper hybrid moved over, settling against Grian’s ther side.
The kid must remind Grian of the before. Before he was safe.
“If he goes back, he’s going to fall and die like a little baby bird getting pushed out of the nest.” Grian mumbled, glancing at the kid. Xisuma couldn’t refute him. At the bare minimum, the admin wasn’t keeping a proper eye on his players. It was one thing to let a few splinters happen, but to not heal them? To not teach them a better way and soothe their wounds?
Despicable.
“You’re safe here.” Doc reminded Grian, resting his chin on top of Grian’s fluffy hair. “We’re not letting him go and we won’t let you go either.”
“Maybe some preening time is in order. Scar and Stress will watch the kid. We’ll head into another room and get you all fixd up. I know you hate it when your feathers are out of place.” Xisuma offered, gently pullig away. Grian flashed him a tight smile.
“Maybe that would help.”
“Besides,” Xisuma continued, a bit more stern. He hated having to use that tone even when he knew it was necessary. But it was necessary and so he needed to use it. “Don’t think I didn’t overhear that comment you made when I thought you weren’t listening. I thought we had worked through this.”
“Grian, really.” Doc said with a sigh, rubbing a hand down their back. “We’re here for you. You don’t have to hide it. We can message some of the others if you want, I know you like having a big group pile.”
“I know, just sometimes-” Grian trailed off, glancing away. “Can’t it wait a bit? I just want to finish some of my projects first. I haven’t even built my nest yet.”
“We can use the nest at my house.” Xisuma said sternly. Grian nodded, glancing at the kid again before pulling away. Xisuma couldn’t help it. He melted a little, ignoring how Doc rolled their eyes. “I just want you to feel safe. If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”
“No, its fine. I think I do need this. Seeing the kid’s brought up some of the old stuff I don’t like to think about.” Grian said with a shudder. “A good preening session sounds nice. I’ll call Mumbo and the rest of the crew. But I want to be back here when the kid wakes up.”
“Easy.” Doc said with a snort. “The two potions you gave him hit him hard. Combined that with the malnutrition, the exhaustion from having to take healing potions, and the likely sleep deprivation, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s out for a few days. You’ll be back with plenty of time. We’ll call them over and get you all sorted out again.”
“Good.” Grian said. “No one should have to wake up alone.”
“He won’t be.” Xisuma promised, stretching out a hand so Grian could pull himself off the chair. “He’s one of ours now. He’ll won’t ever have to worry about being alone again.”