Chapter Text
“I don’t remember you being on the list,”
Comes a sickly sweet voice, edged with sharp and dangerous tones from behind him.
Tommy freezes, internally wincing but he doesn't let it flicker across his face. Shit— this was not good, not good at all.
Tommy clears his throat, straightening his tie before he slowly turns around to face the person who had spoken to him. His blue eyes meet hazel brown ones, followed with curly brown hair sitting atop his head.
He has an angular face, with sharp features, and he was tall, even taller then Tommy and that was really saying something. He wears a very expensive green and black suit, with his families crest on the jacket and a white azalea clipped on it. Or maybe it was a rhododendron, but Tommy’s not sure.
He was never one for flowers, really.
He also think its weird to have a flower on your suit, but he’s not judging, especially because the bastard is Wilbur Soot, the son of the boss of the Syndicate, a huge mafia group that resides in the Antarctic Empire.
He was a deadly man, able to twist anyone’s words against them and great at finding loop holes in everything. He is sly, and tricky, a slippery bastard. He lacks in strength but he makes up for it in everything else.
Tommy heard he’s never missed a shot.
“Uh…” Tommy awkwardly says, just staring at Wilbur for the past couple of moments as his brain short circuits, “It was a last minute decision on my end, sorry.” He says with a shrug, slipping into his character.
Tommy watches as Wilbur’s face contorts, something ugly flashing across his expression before he schools it away, tsking at him and crossing his arms. Wilbur looks as if some other kid had just stolen his candy or something.
Tommy’s eye twitches at the blatant disrespect the man is giving him, and opts to just avert his gaze, scoffing under his breath before he does something that he’d regret later on, and or potentially ruin his mission before it even got the chance to truly get started.
“So sorry, Mr. Soot,” He says, the words sour on his tongue, “I should have given you proper warning, but I’m sure everything will be just fine, innit?” He says bitterly with a small smile, glancing back at the man and hoping his annoyance comes across.
Wilbur’s face is painfully neutral, as he shifts on his feet, taking Tommy in as if he was something to study, analyze. It was weird and creepy and Tommy really wanted to punch him in the face.
Tommy resists the urge to roll his eyes, resting a hand on his hips. He kind of regrets taking on this mission, now that he was here, on this fucking train in the presence of the one and only Wilbur Soot, but he was the only one really qualified for it.
Anyways, Quackity had tipped off the organization this was happening and asked specifically for Tommy to take it. In turn, Tommy really didn’t have a choice. But still, it was nice to think he did have a choice every once and a while.
Tommy meets his gaze once again, trying to remember what role he was supposed to play here.
His mission was to infiltrate a meeting between the Syndicate of the Antarctic Empire and Las Nevadas of L’Manberg. No one knows why the two mafia groups from different countries were striking a deal, especially since they live so far apart from one another, but they were.
Something big and bad has to be going on, something that could potentially cause a lot of trouble in the future, and here Tommy was, trying to unravel it all before anything concrete could happen.
The two mafia groups decided to conduct this meeting on a train that traveled from L’Manberg all the way out to the greater Esempi, closer to the Antarctic Empire, where they would part ways and return back to their respectful countries.
Now, Tommy knows Quackity, the boss of the Las Nevadas mafia group, and he would like to say he was good friends with him. Quackity had actually sent in the tip to the spy organization, for what reasons Tommy did not know, but there was no doubt some foul play going on here.
Maybe Quackity was trying to kill the Syndicate, or get them turned in, or just to call off the deal. Whatever it was, Tommy knew he would be wrapped up in the middle of it somehow.
Tommy was Theseus Smith, a potential investor who was here to network and witness the official partnership between the two mafia groups, as many other wealthy black market people were here as well.
They were on a train, with multiple cars being used for this gathering of sorts. Currently Tommy was in one of the less populated cars, a dining room meant for later in the evening. It was still very early before any food would be served, and all that were here were the servants right now.
They didn't even bat an eye at the pair, weaving around them and keeping quiet. They definitely weren't paid enough for this.
Tommy wishes he had a partner here, but just him coming was risky enough, two people would have been a disaster.
Agent Sam— his boss who had organized this mission— had prepared him for this. Giving him a whole rundown of who’d be here, what to expect, how to act.
Right now he was Theseus, a cocky investor who was charismatic and funny. He was supposed to not attract the attention of any of the mafia leaders, but that’s already been fucked up. He couldn’t have prevented it, so he doesn't feel that bad about it.
The mission is still salvageable, though, so he must continue and not start shooting anyone yet.
“You should have,” Wilbur says smoothly, “I don’t even know your name, how rude of me. Since you weren't on the list last I checked, I wasn’t able to prepare for your arrival. I am terribly sorry.” Wilbur says, completely bullshitting all of that with faux worry, his posture shifting slightly.
“Its fine, Mr. Soot.” Tommy smiles, though its so fake even he cringes, “I am Theseus Smith, from L’Manberg.” He introduces himself, reluctantly holding out his hand to shake.
Wilbur bluntly ignores his hand and hums, tapping his chin.
“Smith, huh?” He says, “Never heard of you before.” He states plainly, as if he was bored.
“Right…” Tommy sighs, retracting his hand, “That would be because my business is defiantly not legal, or very popular, as most of the people’s here.” He explains with a wave of his hand, “Anyways, I live in L’Manberg, I don’t have any branches out in the Empire, so there is no way you’d really know my name.”
“Of course,” Wilbur agrees with a toothy grin, “And how old are you? You look real young to be all by yourself, especially here. Who actually runs these ‘businesses’ and where would they be?” Wilbur says in a sharp tone, basically asking for Tommy’s manger.
Tommy narrows his eyes, tensing slightly.
“I am twenty, Soot, and I run my own business.” He says coldly, and Wilbur pauses, “I built it up from nothing and it continues to thrive. I will not have you belittle me.” Tommy was actually twenty, a fully fledged adult who lives on his own and works a job.
Most people think he’s under eighteen when they meet him. It’s probably his eyes, it makes him look more childish with how blue they are, or how he still hasn’t fully grown into his bones yet. His friends say he looks like he’s going through puberty still.
Wilbur blinks slowly, before there is a certain grin on his face, “Twenty? You barley look older then sixteen.” He tuts, and Tommy glares at him, earning him a tilt of the head from the man.
“You are interesting,” Wilbur says, leaning in closer to Tommy, “I hope we can talk some more later, Smith.” He basically purrs, his hazel eyes glinting as they both stare at each other.
Tommy doesn't back down, glaring at him with all the annoyance he could muster, before Wilbur huffs and turns away, his blazer flaring out behind him as he walks to the door leading to another passenger car.
Tommy watches him go before he sighs, glancing around his surroundings, feeling the train hum and rumble beneath his feet.
He’s fucked.
Tommy finds himself in one of the busier passenger cars, sitting down in one of the chairs in the corner, his eyes scanning the room.
He had talked to a few other investors, figuring out what they sold and who they knew, recording it all for later. He was sure Sam would enjoy taking out a few black market dealers.
Tommy held a water in his hand, slowly swirling the liquid as he thinks, staring at nothing in particular.
Wilbur was onto him, no doubt, it was only a matter of time before he’s called out.
The gun in his waist belt sits heavily, and the extra rounds he has in his pockets are cold to the touch.
Tommy was basically on his own here, back up would take a while to get here if things went wrong. All he had to rely on was himself.
There was a reason why Tommy was picked for this, after all. He was one of the best shots they got, along with how fast he was and his skill to be bale to talk his way out of most situations. He was well prepared and experienced in most of these situations, and he was smart.
Tommy was one of the best agents working for Sam, and he was proud of that.
Right now, though, he just needs to worry about making it out alive.
Tommy nearly startles when someone slinks into the small booth he was at, immediately lounging against the seat and trapping Tommy in.
It was no other then Wilbur Soot.
Fuck.
Tommy internally groans, but keeps his expression blank as he meets eyes with him. Wilbur grins, his hazel eyes sparkling in the light, and Tommy really just wants to pull his gun out and start threatening the man.
“Ah, here is my favorite child.” He muses, inching slightly closer to him like the creep he is.
Tommy scowls, giving him a sharp look as he scoots all the way to the window, pressing against the metal of the train. “I’m not a child,” He hisses, “I’m literally twenty.”
“Right,” Wilbur hums, his eyes sparkling, “I’ve talked to some others about you, its quite amazing some of the things you’ve accomplished, Smith.” Wilbur says, glancing down at his finger nails.
“For your age, no doubt, and for how little respect you show people above you.” His voice immediately shifts, a dangerous glint in his eyes that has Tommy wary, “Its amazing that Quackity has let you live for this long, or that you aren’t in prison.”
Tommy scoffs, and he knows he’s walking on eggshells right now but these damn mafia bosses think they’re the shit when they actually aren’t. Tommy could probably fucking break Wilbur’s nose if he really wanted to right now.
“What can I say?” Tommy hums, giving Wilbur a side eyed look, “I’m just that charismatic, no?” He muses, glancing at his water, “And I don’t really give a fuck about you, Soot, or your position. Me and you are essentially on the same level when you really think about it.” Tommy glances at him, hoping he conveys how serious he is with his look.
“Oh?” Wilbur says, and his voice is sharp, his eyes narrowed as he inclines forwards, blocking everyone’s view from the pair, “We’re on the same level, are we now?” Wilbur says, his expression carefully blank as he leans in closer to Tommy, their eyes locked together in a battle of wills.
Tommy feels his heart quicken slightly at the anger coursing in Wilbur’s eyes, and the way the man looks slightly unhinged with some of his curly brown hair falling in front of his face, casting shadows.
He doesn’t notice how the rest of the people in the train car is slowly dispersing into others ones.
“Then you should have no problem calling me Wilbur, right?” Wilbur says, his eyes glinting as he watches Tommy. Wilbur was waiting to strike, to win, to corner Tommy into a situation he can’t back out of.
It was a dangerous game, one wrong move and Tommy could be fucking killed. But, fortunately Tommy knows how to de-escalate this situation he somehow found himself in.
Tommy scrunches up his nose before rolling his eyes, the tension between the two only thickening.
“Then you should have no problem calling me Theseus, yeah?” He retorts back, rather childishly but what can he say, when he’s faced with a pretentious fuck like Wilbur he’s gonna act like a bratty kid.
Wilbur straightens slightly, before a small smile cracks his lips and he leans back, the tension disappearing between the two.
Tommy silently lets out a breath of relief.
“Of course, Theseus.” Wilbur says, testing his name out, his eyes watching Tommy closely. “You are such an interesting fellow, aren’t you?” Wilbur hums, “You’ve got a fire in your eyes, but what would it take to snuff it out?” And there it was again, that morbid curiosity in Wilbur’s eyes.
“Torture? Imprisonment? Solitude? Starvation, poison?” Wilbur lists off, his eyes alight as he watches Tommy’s face fall, “A fire can’t last forever, Theseus.”
“First off, Wilbur, none of these tactics are going to scare me.” Tommy snorts, watching Wilbur’s eyes widen slightly, “And secondly, I’ve already experienced all of those things, and more, so fuck off. Your not the first, and you won’t be the last who want to see how much it takes for me to break.” Tommy growls, his blue eyes narrowed as he stares at Wilbur. This feels like some sort of sick game, one Tommy does not want to be apart of.
“I don’t appreciate being threatened, either,” He says, his fingers twitching for his gun, “So I’d suggest you drop it.”
Tommy is a man of many things, yes, but someone who will act weak and docile is not one of them. He is always up for a fight, a challenge, and he won’t back down. He can even admit sometimes this might compromise a mission, or get him in big trouble, but its all worked out in the end, and he won’t sit here and let Wilbur fucking try and scare him.
The two sit in silence, the both of them never breaking eye contact. Tommy glances down at his watch with an angry grumble, checking the time when there is an arm slinking around his shoulders, pulling him closer to Wilbur and a hand grabbing his face.
Tommy flinches, his head being pulled to look at Wilbur as his hands come up to grab the mans wrist.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Wilbur says smoothly, his hazel eyes set on Tommy’s face. Tommy grits his teeth before letting go of him, bracing himself against the seat he was on as Wilbur smiles, his white teeth glinting as he uses his other hand to trace one of the scars on his face.
Tommy stays deadly still, his eyes watching the mans face as his finger trails from his nose all the way down to his cheek, a frown appearing on his face. Tension settles back in, lining Tommy’s whole body.
“What the fuck are you doing,” Tommy growls, a shiver running down his back as Wilbur caresses his cheek, his long spindly fingers messing with his ear as his other hand rests in his hair, playing with his blonde curls.
It was such an alien touch, something jarring and shocking to Tommy as he waits for the touch to turn mean, for the hands in his hair to pull and the hand on his face to hit him.
“Is that where you got all these scars from?” Wilbur asks dangerously, leaning in closer to him, “From torture? Fights?” He questions and Tommy stays quiet, resisting the urge to fucking punch Wilbur right here and now.
His fingers slwoly trail through his hair, scratching at his head. It was almsot soothing, and nice, if it weren't for the fact he was a literal mafia boss. His hand was warm on his face, as he rubs his thumb along his cheek bone, feeling another scar there.
“Who exactly are you, Theseus?” Wilbur questions, their knees brushing as Wilbur gets even fucking closer. Tommy ducks his head to get out of his hold, having enough of this, but Wilbur just grabs his chin and jerks his head back, the fingers tightening in his hair.
Here it is. His hands hover over where his gun is hidden, ready to pull it out at a moments notice. Damn was this mission fucked.
“Shh,” Wilbur coos, “Don’t fret, little one, I won’t hurt you.” Wilbur promises, his fingers going back to trialing through his hair, “You’ve been through a lot, haven't you?” He asks softy, his whole demeanor changing as he pulls Tommy closer, to where he was pressed against his chest.
Tommy makes a noise in protest— his heart was racing as he tries to think of a way out of this, his hands coming up to push himself away from Wilbur but his grip just tightens on him, as he engulfs him in a fucking hug.
Wilbur Soot was hugging him.
Wilbur rest his chin on top his head, humming some song under his breath, as if he was trying to soothe a child. Fuck was this embarrassing.
Tommy has no fucking idea what to do or how to get out of this. He was caught up in the beasts hold, which was surprisingly kind for now, frozen, his limbs locked up. In his four years of being a spy, Tommy has never been faced in a situation quite like this.
“It must be so hard, being on your own, having to go through that,” Wilbur says softly, rubbing a hand up and down his back, feeling his spine as he did so, “Yet you never gave up, did you?” Wilbur hums, his other hand on the nape of his neck, playing with the baby hairs there.
“L- let me go,” Tommy stutters out, feeling his resolve crumble as Wilbur only holds onto him tighter, offering him comfort that he so desperately wanted, “Please,” He pleads, his hands shaking— what the fuck was happening?
“Do you actually want that, Theseus?” Wilbur asks softly, caressing the back of his head, “I can tell no ones been there for you, you poor kid.” He whispers, and Tommy shivers, relaxing slightly against Wilbur.
“Your like a needy cat, aren’t you?” Wilbur coos softly, “Melting into my hold at the first offer of comfort, leaning into my gentle touches… you are so cute.” Wilbur coos, burying his face in his hair, “So adorable.” He continues.
Tommy feels his ears flush at that. “Fuck off—“
”You look just like Phil, too, a much younger version of him granted.” Wilbur says, amusement lacing his tone, “So feisty and yet so sweet.” He pulls Tommy closer, to the point where he was almsot in his lap.
“It only took me a couple minutes to find what makes you break, Theseus.” Wilbur says into his hair, making Tommy tense up, “You fight and act all angry and mad, yet the moment you revive physical affection you crumble, become easily moldable to my will.” Wilbur says softly, dangerously, his tone smug.
“Its very funny, isn't it?” Wilbur hums, “You had no parents, or at least parents that were there for you. You never seek out affection yet the moment your given it you don’t want to let go. You have friends but they’re not true friends, are they? Your all alone, stuck in a never ending loop, unable to break from it.” Wilbur says, making Tommy tense up with how accurate that was.
“The moment someone offers comfort you fall into it, uncaring of who it may be. You’re too scared to ask for it yourself, aren’t you? Too scared of being rejected.” Wilbur hums, trailing through his hair again, “I see through you, Theseus.” He whispers and Tommy splutters.
Because fuck— Wilbur was so fucking right and Tommy has nothing to even spit back.
“You’ve had a rough life, been through many hurtles, you’ve been abused, and from your young age I’m assuming as a young child as well. You’re body must be riddled with scars, with stories you kept locked away in the darkest part of your mind. You’ve seen so many bad things that you’re desensitized to it all. You probably have done terrible things to other people too, haven't you?” Wilbur asks, sending shivers down Tommy’s spine.
He doesn't like this.
“I see you, Theseus, I see it all.” Wilbur muses, “You are a very interesting person, by all means. Naive, and young. Your foolish, you think you know better, you try to have the upper hand, try to be one step ahead. You act older then you should.” Wilbur lists off, making Tommy wither further into his hold.
“But really, you are just a kid, aren’t you? A kid thrown into this mess at a young age. A kid who should be off at college, doing dumb shit rather then being here right now.” Wilbur muses, his tone turning darker, “Yet here you are, attracting the attention of some very dangerous people, falling right into my traps.” Wilbur says, his fingers wrapping around a strand of his hair, almsot possessively.
“Your lucky your interesting, little one, otherwise you would already be dead right now.” Wilbur whispers in a hushed voice, as if it was a secret and not something Tommy already knew, “I suggest not acting like this around the rest of my family or Las Nevadas. They won’t be as lenient as I am.” Wilbur advises, pulling away from Tommy as he grips his chin again.
“This is your last chance to leave, Theseus, before you won’t ever be able to.” Wilbur smiles darkly, his eyes glinting with delight and a certain possessiveness that has Tommy reeling, “I hope you make the right choice before I become too attached.” He warns, detangling his hand from his hair as he stands, casting one last glance at Tommy before he was gone.
Tommy just stares, too shocked at what Wilbur had said to even try and say something back.
Tommy hadn’t even realized that everyone who had been in here had left, as the door clicks shut behind Wilbur and Tommy was alone.
Fuck— he just fell right into the mans traps without even realizing it.
He was so screwed.
~~~~
Dinner that night was rather uneventful, besides the moment where he locked eyes with Wilbur from across the room. Wilbur sat with Phil Soot, though the third member- Techno Blade- was missing, in their own little secluded spot, with Quackity’s table not to far away.
Tommy ignored him, not even looking at the table again that housed the mafia families as he talked with the people who he sat with.
A women named Niki, this Eret guy, and Jack, who is very bald, though he doesn't find any of them rather interesting. Just the average black market people.
Tommy has plans to meet with Quackity tonight, to get the inside information, and ask for his extended protection against the Syndicate in case shit went down. He also wants to figure out why exactly Quackity had tipped him off on this event.
Did Quackity want it to fall through? Did he want the Syndicate to be taken down? Did he want to just see Tommy? They were all valid options as to why Quackity tipped the agency off.
Tommy watched as Quackity excused himself from the mafia boss table, and made his way over to the bathrooms. Tommy stood up, excusing himself and following after Quackity.
He made it inconspicuous, making sure to hide away from Wilbur’s prying eyes as he ducked around train booths and people, until he made it over to where Quackity was waiting.
He slunk in after the mafia boss, with Charlie, his right hand man, blocking the two from view of anyone else. They were at the back, hidden away in a small booth area.
Quackity grinned at him, pulling him in for a hug that Tommy reluctantly let happen. Tommy was still a little shaken up from what happened earlier with Wilbur.
Quackity was blind in one eye, with a long nasty scar running across his face. No one really knows how he got it, but Tommy believes it was from a fight with Techno Blade, as rumor on the street had said.
Quackity wears an expensive suit, with his fashionable suspenders and red tie. His black hair was slicked back, and he looked like a wealthy business man.
Tommy pulled back from the hug, grinning back at Quackity.
“Big Q! Long time no see, huh?” Tommy says, lightly punching Quackity in the arm as he looks at Charlie, “And Charlie, my man, how have you been?” He asks, and Charlie grins at him.
“I’ve been just fine, Tommy-the-spy!” Charlie smiles and Tommy shakes his head, shushing Charlie.
“Shh, Charlie, no one can know I am a spy, okay?” Tommy says quietly and Charlie nods, smiling.
“Okay, Tommy-who-is-not-a-spy!” He says and Tommy sighs, earning a chuckle from Quackity.
“I hear your Theseus who runs a couple black market businesses,” Quackity hums, leaning against the wall, “I’ve been vouching for you for a couple of people, including Wilbur Soot.” Quackity’s good eye flashes for a second as Tommy winces.
“Why the fuck did you catch his attention?” Quackity asks and Tommy sighs, slumping against the wall as he levels Quackity with a look.
“Look, I never meant to, man, it just kind of happened.” He shrugs, “Speaking of which, the fucker has been like obsessed with me ever since. I really don’t want to be forced to join any mafia group so I’d appreciate it if you would extend your protection upon me.”
Quackity leans forward with an increased interest, reaching out an arm to rest on his shoulder.
“Do you mean a claim, Tommy?” The man asks, his voice barely above a whisper, “You want me to place a claim on you? Do you know what that means?” He eagerly asks, and Tommy slwoly blinks.
“Wait— I’m just asking for your protection, nothing else.” Tommy says, the hand on his shoulder suddenly feeling restricting, “If like, shit were to happen— not a claim. I don’t want to be apart of it, no contracts or stupid shit like that. You know what I do, who I am, you should know better.” Tommy sighs, glancing away from him.
Quackity has always tried to get him to join his mafia group, but without fail Tommy’s always declined. He feels like he has this conversation with Quackity at least once a week.
He was already a spy, who was shoved into very dangerous positions all the time, very high profile cases. He had no time for mafias and shit.
“Then your just asking for what I've already been providing,” Quackity sighs, retracting his hand, “I’ve always been favoring you, Tommy, just nothing official yet. I can’t openly express to everyone that you are under my protection without a claim.”
“You do know I am a spy, right, here to take down this deal?” Tommy says suddenly and Quackity grins.
“Of course I know, I’m the one who invited you!” Quackity smiles, “And there was a reason for that, too.” Quackity says, leaning in closer. Tommy nods, here it was, the deal changer, why Tommy was actually here.
“I need you to kill Wilbur Soot.” He breathes out, and Tommy pauses, his eyes widening slightly.
“Wait— what?” He says, and Quackity nods his head.
“I tipped off the organization knowing they would send you out, as you are the only one capable of doing it by yourself,” Quackity hums, “And you are my ally, my friend, amigos.” He grins, all sharp toothed and dangerous.
“Obviously I wouldn't have tipped you off if I wanted this to go through, so you must have known there was something underlying here. And thats it. Wilbur Soot needs to die.” Quackity says, gesturing with his arms.
Tommy just tilts his head, confused.
“Hold on… Quackity, I’m not here to kill anyone.” Tommy says slwoly, “My mission is to infiltrate the meeting, stop the deal, and turn in as many people as I can with minimal injuries and death.” Tommy says, “Obviously you’ll somehow manage to slip away, unharmed— of course— while everyone else gets fucked over.”
Quackity’s face falls, and he frowns. “Well, thats not what I want.” He says simply, “I need you to kill him, stop the deal, and thats it. Everything else can be done a different time.”
“Oh no, Quackity,” Tommy says as he cracks his knuckles, “Here is where we have our differences, as we do every fucking mission you are involved in. If Wilbur somehow manages to get shot and its fatal, then thats all well and dandy, but I am not going to go out of my way to kill him for you.” Tommy says simply, waving his hand about.
“Like you said, I’m not claimed by you nor do I work for you, so I don’t have to listen to you.” Tommy shoots back, “Why don’t you just have one of your men poison him or something? Why does it need to be me who kills him?” He asks and Quackity’s face is neutral, his eyes calculating.
“Because, your an undercover spy, the blame would fall back on the organization, and not me.” Quackity says, “Plus your good at making it look like an accident.”
Tommy sighs, “So what your saying is, you want it to look like it was an accident and if someone figures out who did it, the blame wouldn't be on you, and instead on me. I thought you didn't want me dead?” Tommy spits out, and Quackity just grins, his good eye sparkling.
“I don’t want you dead, Toms.” He smiles, “When people find out who did it, I’d swoop in to protect you and keep you safe.”
“You mean you’d make me sign a contract for your protection and then I’ll be apart of your family.” Tommy says bluntly and Quackity brightens, nodding his head.
“Why yes,” He smiles, “You’d officially become mine, be under my protection, my care— now doesn't that have a good ring to it?” He muses, and Tommy rolls his eyes.
“No, it does not.” Tommy snaps, “Your plans are foolish, Quackity. They won’t work.” He says.
“If I accidentally killed Wilbur and the blame is put on me, I have a whole organization of trained spies who are basically legal assassins. I think I’d be safe without your protection.”
“From the Syndicate? Oh, no no no.” Quackity says, “No one is safe from them, especially someone who isn't even in a family. You’d be much better off with me.”
“Like that’ll ever happen,” Tommy scoffs, and Quackity’s face falls, “Alright, I’ll be taking my leave then. The deal won’t go through, and I’m going to try and turn in as many as I can. Don’t count on Wilbur dying, either, and I am no longer interested in your protection, you crazy son of a bitch.” Tommy says, shaking his head as he stands up straight.
“Hope to see you never, Quackity,” He calls as he walks past Charlie.
“I’ll get you one day, Tommy.” He hears Quackity call, and Tommy ignores him, instead grabbing another drink and making his way to where his room is located.
Its a couple train cars away, and he has to walk through a few empty ones until he gets to where the rooms are. He knows he’s closer to the actual train, as he can hear its humming through the walls and floor, and in the quiet he can hear the thrum of the wheels beneath him.
It was kind of soothing, the constant background noise, as he opens the room he was assigned, looking in at the room.
He had one small window, a tiny bed with storage above it, and that was all. The room was small and cramped, but it would work. He had about three feet between the walls and the bed, but it would suffice for a day.
It was dark outside, and Tommy pulls the curtains back, hiding away the window as he sits on the bed, sighing.
He was finally alone.
He was left with his thoughts, that were filled of Wilbur and Quackity.
He feels… odd, and like he was picked apart by the man. Wilbur was able to tell so many things from just the way Tommy acted. He was able to get Tommy to open up with a few honeyed words and actions, he was able to see things that not even his co workers have been able to figure out.
Tommy should be scared, or terrified, or worried, yet all he feels is an uncanny feeling of intrigue, he wants to talk to him more, push his buttons. He wants to be in his hold again, no matter how helpless it made him feel, how small he felt.
He felt like a kid again in his hold.
This was bad.
Tommy shouldn’t be feeling like that.
Tommy clenches his fists together, closing his eyes with a sigh.
He wasn’t a kid. He was an adult, like an actual one with a job and bills and a house. He lived by himself with his cat and dog, in a nice neighborhood and worked irregular hours.
Tommy might look young but he really isn't. He’s stressed, way too much, and he’s traumatized, but he’s been been able to ignore it, lock it away for another day. He was a spy, an agent, who was sent on the most dangerous missions because he never failed. He was the best of the best, and it came with many sacrifices.
Tommy lays back on his bed, kicking off his shoes, and running his hands through his hair.
Fuck, this was bad, wasn't it?
Tommy lays there for a while, just thinking, when there is a knocking at his door. He jolts, sitting up right as his eyes land on his door.
“Theseus?” Calls a voice, and fuck, its Wilbur, “Can you open the door? I just want to talk.” He says, and Tommy groans.
“No. Leave me alone.” He snaps back, and he hears shuffling outside his door.
“Come on, I just want to have a nice little chat with you.” Wilbur calls through the door, “You ran off so early at dinner I never got the chance to talk.”
“Yeah, I wonder why.” Tommy says, shaking his head, “Now leave me alone, I need my beauty sleep.”
He hears Wilbur scoff, “Don’t make me break down the fucking door.” He says sharply, and Tommy pauses, wondering if he would actually do that, “I’m not asking anymore.”
“Right, and I’m not going to listen to you because—“ Tommy says but stops midway as Wilbur just opens the fucking door.
He never locked it.
God damnit.
Wilbur has a smug look on his face as he enters, closing the door behind him as Tommy just stares at the door, feeling his face heat up. Wilbur could have just come in any moment.
“What if I had been changing, huh?” Tommy manages to say, “You would have walked in to see my bare ass.”
Wilbur splutters, his eyes widening slightly before he huffs. “Thats why I knocked, idiot.” He says oddly fondly, sitting down on the bed besides him.
Tommy scoots away from him, eyeing him warily.
“But you just came in unannounced, bitch.” Tommy says and Wilbur sighs, dragging a hand down his face, though Tommy can tell he was enjoying this.
“Has anyone ever told you you are very annoying?” Wilbur asks, and Tommy crosses his arms, giving him a side eyed look.
“And has anyone ever told you you’re a whiny bitch?” Tommy shoots back and Wilbur just shakes his head.
“Yeah, you did, like five seconds ago.” Wilbur hums and Tommy nods his head, grinning.
“There you go, then.” Tommy smiles, and Wilbur just stares at him.
“You know, I was certain I had scared you off, yet you stayed.” Wilbur says, leaning back against the wall, crossing his legs over one another, “I guess I was wrong about that.” He hums, and Tommy feels the light atmosphere between them disappear.
“Uh… its not like I can really just fuck off the train, man. It doesn't stop for another day.” Tommy says and Wilbur shrugs.
“People always find a way.” Wilbur pauses, glancing over at him, “When their life is on the line.”
Tommy sighs, glaring at Wilbur. “Are you threatening me again? Because no, I don’t find you intimidating, and no, I won’t listen to you, and you can go suck a dick because I am staying and I don’t care about you or what you say.” Tommy says simply, ignoring the shocked look he got from Wilbur.
It was very satisfying seeing that look on his face, knowing Tommy had managed to shock him.
“Woah— thats a lot to unpack there,” Wilbur says, laughing slightly, “Alright? You do realize I am a mafia boss, though, right?” Wilbur asks and Tommy just shrugs.
“I could give less of a flying fuck about who you are,” Tommy says simply, “From where I’m sitting, I’m above everyone in this fucking train.” He grins, giving Wilbur a look.
“Huh,” Wilbur says, dumbfounded, and Tommy nods, being a fucking spy is definitely way cooler and much more awesome than a mafia boss, “Are you now?”
“Yup,” He says, popping the p, “I’m even above the fucking queen, and thats really saying something.”
“So… what are you again?” Wilbur asks and Tommy hums.
“I’m a fucking drug dealer, dude.” He says and Wilbur nods his head slwoly, trying to comprehend everything Tommy was spewing.
“Right,” Wilbur says, “It all clicks now.” Wilbur hums, his eyes alight. “Are you on some right now? Perhaps thats why you’ve been acting like this all night.”
“No, big man,” Tommy replies simply, looking at WIlbur, “Do I look like I'm on drugs to you? I just deal em’, I don’t take them.”
“Of course,” Wilbur agrees, “I believe you.”
“I have a feeling that you don't,” Tommy says and Wilbur laughs.
“No, no, really, I believe you.” Wilbur says, “I know a kid like you isn't even allowed to do drugs yet.”
“Alright mother fucker—“ Tommy says, fully turning to Wilbur, “I’m not a kid, I’m literally twenty!” He exclaims and Wilbur just shakes his head.
“I don’t believe that.” He says, tapping his chin, “You don’t look twenty.”
“Well you look thirty,” Tommy retorts and Wilbur splutters, giving him a look.
“I’m twenty five, mind you.” Wilbur scowls, “I do not look thirty—“
”Sure, keep telling yourself that, big bad mafia boss.” Tommy rolls his eyes while Wilbur just glares at him, before his expression softens.
“You know, you are such a curious person,” Wilbur says, “Most people would be shaking in their boots just being around me.”
“Well I don’t see why they would,” Tommy shrugs, “Your not very intimidating. Plus I don’t even have boots.”
Wilbur just grins sharply, “Right.” He says, “Anyways, you talk big for just a simple drug dealer. What else do you do?” He inquiries, and Tommy scoffs.
“Well, I suppose drug dealing is just one of my side hustles,” He shrugs, “I do shit like assassinations, mercenary jobs, and body guard type shit.” He says, trying to scare Wilbur a little with all the cool stuff he’s done.
Wilbur quirks an eyebrow.
“Really?” He asks, and Tommy nods, “You don’t seem like the type of person to be good at those things.”
“Well, I am, prick.” He says, “I could show you some killer moves if you really want?” He asks and Wilbur huffs.
“No thanks, I think I’m good.” He says, before he looks away from Tommy.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Wilbur begins, wringing his hands together.
“Well that must be hard for you,” Tommy pipes in and Wilbur just glares at him.
“I’ve been thinking that maybe you should join the Syndicate.” Wilbur says, his hazel eyes watching Tommy closely, “Become apart of the family. Under our protection, my protection.” He hums, his eyes watching his reaction.
“You’d be mine,” Wilbur continues, and Tommy shudders. He sounds just like Quackity.
Tommy schools his emotions, staring back at Wilbur as tension lines his body.
“We could use your skills, your connections,” Wilbur continues, “You would be a great asset.” Tommy could tell Wilbur wanted to say more but he didn’t, just closely watching his reaction.
“Your joking, right?” Tommy asks and Wilbur shakes his head. Tommy falls into silence, thinking over his words.
There was no fucking way Wilbur wanted him to join his mafia club.
“Well,” He begins, “Sorry, but like, I prefer not signing my life away to you crazy fucks no matter how good you make it out. If your looking to add to your ‘family’ I would consider literally anyone else but me.” He says, watching Wilbur’s eyebrows furrow slightly.
“You— you’re declining an offer to become family with the Syndicate?” Wilbur asks, as if he was confused. Tommy slowly nods his head.
“I am, is it that hard to believe?” Tommy asks with a roll of his eyes, “I don’t want to be apart of it, so fuck off.”
Wilbur is silent, pondering over his words.
“Well, I wasn’t really asking.” Wilbur says, his tone taking a darker turn, “The thing about mafias, Theseus, is that what we want we get, no matter what.” Wilbur leans in closer to him, his hazel eyes burning.
“And I want you,” Wilbur whispers, reaching out with a hand and cupping his cheek, “So I would re-think your answer, before things get ugly.”
Tommy slowly blinks, letting his words settle.
No one has ever said they wanted Tommy before. It sounded kind of nice, even coming from a mafia boss. But like, not in the way Wilbur was implying. Wilbur wanted him like a possession, a worker, nothing more.
Tommy wanted someone to call his own, a mutual relationship where both parties benefit off of each other, like a real actual family.
So this was already something he didn’t want, no matter how his heart seems to squeeze at his words.
“Yeah, I hear you man,” Tommy says, leaning out of his burning touch, “But also, I don’t want that, so I’m going to stick with my original answer. No.”
Wilbur pulls back, a dark look crossing his eyes.
“Don’t tell me you don’t want to be with me forever?” Wilbur says, “You could become my little brother, my right hand man— my baby brother.” Wilbur says, and his voice takes on this odd tone.
Tommy pauses, eyeing Wilbur.
“Your brother?” He asks, because that was a whole other thing that has Tommy freezing up, pausing, and freaking out.
“Why yes, my little brother.” Wilbur coos, his words sinking in Tommy’s brain, finding a spot to reside in and take root like a weed.
Little brother.
Tommy never had a brother, or a family, really. It sounds nice, everything Wilbur says, but Tommy knows there is underlying threats, little things he’s leaving out. The truth was hidden behind false promises and words that Tommy wants to hear, covering up the lies and deception.
Tommy thinks he is falling for Wilbur’s traps once again, though, no matter how much he knows its all fake.
Did the man actually mean all he says? All he does? Tommy doesn't know, he isn’t sure, but he knows for a fact that he is falling for every single one of them.
Its bad. He knows its bad. But Wilbur and Tommy just… click. Like they were meant to be.
He had to leave.
Tommy opens his mouth as if he was going to say something, before he bolts for the door, throwing it open and slamming it shut as he runs down the hall, ignoring the surprised shout from Wilbur.
It would take too long to get to the other train cart, so he goes for the second best option: he throws open a random room door hoping it would be unlocked.
He all but falls in, his shoes skidding on the ground as he whips around and closes the door shut, not making to much noise as he fumbles to lock it this time.
He sucks in sharp breathes, leaning his head against the door as he fumbles with the lock, listening as he hears rapid footsteps fading off, and someone calling his fake name.
He got away from him.
Tommy lets out a deep breath, sliding down the door as he rests his head in his knees, tugging them close to his chest as he just focuses on breathing.
This shouldn’t effect him as much as it does.
Someone clears their throat and Tommy panics all over again.
His head whips up, his eyes settling on the person who had been occupying the room he didn’t notice when he had run in.
They sat on a chair, lounging back in it with a book in hand that had been closed. Small reading glasses sit on his nose, and long pink hair falls in front of his face. The man wears a poets shirt, with furls, and he wears a lot of golden rings and bracelets on his hands.
The man is huge, defiantly someone who works out all the fucking time and tall too. He has dark brown, almost red eyes, and a few earrings in his ears. The man screams danger, and power, with the way he tilts his head down at Tommy, a neutral look on his face.
Tommy was fucked.