anchor up to me; because you are mine

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/35955064.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandom: Minecraft (Video Game)
Relationship: Alexis | Quackity & Clay | Dream & Georgenotfound & Karl Jacobs &
Sapnap & TommyInnit, Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, Clay | Dream &
TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity/Wilbur Soot,
Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit &
Phil Watson, Alexis | Quackity & Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound &
Karl Jacobs & Sapnap, Sapnap & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Character: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging
RPF), Alexis | Quackity, Karl Jacobs, Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson (Video
Blogging RPF), Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sapnap (Video
Blogging RPF), Jack Manifold, Minor Characters, Ranboo (Video
Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ponk | DropsByPonk (Video
Blogging RPF)
Additional Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Brotherly Love, Brotherly
Affection, Protective Older Brothers, TommyInnit-centric (Video
Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are
Siblings, Codependency, Alternate Universe - Pirates, Alternate
Universe - Royalty, Protective Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF),
Protective Wilbur Soot, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Protective Sleepy
Bois Inc, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy
Ending, Attempt at Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, One Piece
References, idiotic kidnapping, Found Family
Language: English
Series: Part 18 of softkai works, Part 5 of comatose [author's favorites]
Collections: the reason i'm an insomniac, Completed stories I've read, my favourite
block boys that make me enjoy living, Found family to make me feel
something, Comfort fics, family? found. mental health? significantly
improved. hotel? trivago., finished fics, (found) family fics because i
crave emotional affection, completed fics i have read you should read
as well, Found family sbi has my <3, fics that live up to mads'
impossible standards
Stats: Published: 2021-12-25 Words: 21787

anchor up to me; because you are mine

by merikai

Summary

He shouldn't have worn that damn iconic blue overcoat that everyone in the
royal family of the Antarctic Empire owns, much less have worn the garment
in public. He’s an idiot for that - he can already imagine Wilbur slapping him
upside the head for it.
 Tommy swallows behind his blindfold. He can also imagine his big brother’s
faces when they realize Tommy’s been kidnapped for who knows how long.
Phil, his dad’s, face when he finds out his son has been taken from him.

But Tommy’s sixteen, now. He can take on a couple of damn pirates.

or: Tommy, one of the princes of the Arctic Empire, was kidnapped by an infamous pirate
group, lead by Dream, who can rival even someone as strong as Technoblade.

(Or, or; a custody battle between sbi and feral boys.)

Notes

okay. Hi. uh. i've been working on this shit since november 17th, and it ended up being 21k
and i want to DIE. anwyays this is meant for the best people ever. my christmas gift this
year to you guys is the five star, seven course meal

like plant, who is a stupid bitch and is also the reason there's so much big brother sapnap,
and my wife, my shining star, who i want to hug but cannot so there's lots of hugs in this fic,
and sa rah soccer who is the best ever and GO READ HER MULTICHAP CLJNGY
FIC!!!!! and then. ugh. drhair76 sigh sigh. i hate them. die. oh and rin but im too lazy to
give their link shit because i hate him so much . she listens to world of warcraft ost she
deserves absolutely nothing.

ANYWAYS. READ MY SHIT. oh and join my discord server where you can bully me into
writing more stuff: SERVER!! GO JOIN!!!! i want to meet you fucks!

See the end of the work for more notes

Tommy could be in better places than right now, to be honest.

Stuck on a boat. Rocking with the waves - fabric pulled tight over his eyes, his hands locked in
unforgiving metal - and oh fuck- he's gonna be sick. Genuinely. He was never good at going on
boats. Wilbur was always the one for that type of stuff.

He figured the security at the castle would be enough to keep Tommy safe if he went out for a bit -
he probably should've brought Techno with him, especially since his big brother is very well off
when it comes to sword fighting. His old friend - rival - sworn enemy? Tommy doesn't know what
the fuck he's got on with the guy, Dream, whose an infamous pirate known for being able to step
toe-to-toe with Tech. Tommy always had his money on the pink-haired man; the months and years
put into training will not be going to waste up against a guy wearing a white bandana over his eyes.

Plastered over it with black marker - a stupid smiley face. Tommy thinks the public should've
nicknamed the man Smile - which, although, not being very creative and is more stupid - yet it fits
much better than whatever the fuck Dream’s supposed to mean.

Tommy actually likes pirates, to be honest. He thinks they're kinda cool when they're not killing
innocent lives and hurting his brother, and being on their big ol’ ship right now, he has a feeling
he’ll be fine. Despite being in the palms of Dream’s hands. Maybe he's doing it to fuck with
Techno, or to get money from Tommy’s father, the king. Either way- Wilbur and Techno will
eventually come save him with the Royal Guards behind him, who Tommy all knows and is
friends with.

Wilbur would've been a good bet to keep safe while going out as well, maybe more than Techno,
because he's got a bit of Siren blood in him. Their mother was a Siren, before she passed, and Phil -
Tommy’s adoptive father - is part crow, so. Whatever. Who knows how Techno didn't pick up
either of the hybrid blood and ended up getting stuck with being plain human is beyond Tommy.
He doesn't even look like he's a person, he looks just like a pig hybrid - but he isn’t

Wilbur and Techno don't even look like Phil, the bare minimum - Techno’s hair is long, pastel
pink, with his eyes being blood red, and Wilbur has soft, curly brown hair. His eyes - a glowing
hazel, peppered with gold - have partially slitted pupils, which looks a bit snakelike if you stare at
him too long.

When Tommy was still a street brat, living off of thieving from townspeople - Little crime boy,
Wilbur had murmured affectionately one night, back when they first met in the streets, dirty little
thief - he remembers hearing the whispers from the schoolgirls how Wilbur was ‘the prettiest boy
they'd ever seen.’ Tommy, however, is inclined to disagree with that notion, because Wilbur is not
as much a pretty boy as he is a fucking prick. Even boys had called Wilbur handsome, and the most
known one was Quackity, who Tommy never met but saw hanging out with another teenager with
ram horns. Tommy was about seven at the time, so he doesn't remember it well, but the ram kid
and Quackity were both fifteen, fourteen at the time. Wilbur was the same age.

Tommy doesn't remember what happened to Quackity or the hybrid, for that matter. He doesn't
remember seeing the both in that back alleyway by the schoolhouse after a few months, but
Tommy knows where Quackity went - he joined Dream in the career of fucking piracy. He's seen
his wanted posters.

And now - Tommy is stuck in the back of their damn boat.

He shouldn't have worn that damn iconic blue overcoat that everyone in the royal family of the
Antarctic Empire owns, much less have worn the garment in public. He’s an idiot for that - he can
already imagine Wilbur slapping him upside the head for it.

Tommy swallows behind his blindfold. He can also imagine his big brother’s faces when they
realize Tommy’s been kidnapped for who knows how long. Phil, his dad’s, face when he finds out
his son has been taken from him.

But Tommy’s sixteen, now, almost eight or nine years after seeing Quackity for the first time. He
can take on a couple of damn pirates.

The wood below him creaks; water sloshes in his ears, and Tommy knows he's at the very bottom
of the boat - the hull. Probably near the stern, which sucks, because if this boat pulls a Titanic on
him, Tommy would rather not be impaled by a giant shard of ice.

Footsteps, echoing and hesitant, round the hallway of wherever the hell Tommy is settled - he's not
scared, he can't even hear his heart racing - at least, not of the pirate. The blond wishes he knew the
entirety of Dream’s crew, but unfortunately Tommy doesn't care enough about the guy to give two
fucks.

There's a knock, “Kid?”

Tommy flicks his head up, cocking it to the side at the noise; he tries to envision the face behind
the voice- it's not L’Manbergian, like Wilbur and himself, but it doesn't have the icy tinge to it like
Phil and Techno do. Obviously a foreigner, and if Tommy’s got to guess, the pirate’s probably
from Dream’s own land, the Dream SMP. He doesn't respond.

The person approaches him - the creak of what is probably Tommy’s prison door - and something
is settled in front of him. It smells good, and Tommy’s mouth waters. Literally. People say that
can't happen but Tommy disagrees. Heavily. He hasn't eaten in like, what, three days? His stomach
is a fucking black hole.

His blindfold is gently removed - fingers crisp and stern, strange for a pirate - and Tommy’s eyes
flutter, adjusting to the darkness of his cell. He blinks at the pirate, who's got a white bandana
wrapped around his forehead, black hair spilling out the top. His boots clink as he steps back, and a
vacant hand reaches up and scratches behind his ear. Tommy stares at the piercing on his helix.

The pirate nods downwards - at the food, and Tommy scarfs it down before he can even tell him to
do so. It’s heaven in his mouth, and Tommy tries not to outright drool in front of the poor guy
looking at him eating food like he's been starved for weeks. He watches, quietly, hand on his
cheek, while Tommy licks his fingers.

“You're quiet,” he says, huffing, and he sits on his ass on the upturned wooden bucket in the corner
of the room. “Dream told me “We weren't giving the little prince enough hospitality” so here I
am.”

The pirate sighs. “I’m sorry for fuckin’ kidnappin’ you. We didn't really wanna do it like that, but
you don't seem like the type of person who'd let us pick you right off the street. Dream was just
gonna throw you over his shoulder if we didn't do what we ended up doing.”

Tommy can't help but let his lips perk up at the tone the guy’s giving his boss. “Mutiny.”

The other splutters, then holds up an indignant finger, “ Not mutiny, Dream’s my best friend. I’m
allowed to veto his stupid decisions.”

“So why'd you take me again?” Tommy leans back in his seat, throwing his feet up onto the empty
barrel his plate left behind, like it's his living room. “My family will find me before you can even
leave the country.”

“I’m sure they will, honestly,” But he leans forward, a smirk spreading across his lips. “but we’re
prepared for big ole’ Technoblade to come save you like a knight in shining armor and his army of
sheep.”

He's talkin’ like he could take out Techno, Tommy thinks in toned annoyance, what an idiot.

“We calculated our losses before we snatched you up,” and he stands, pulling the bucket with him,
staring down at Tommy with glowing, fiery onyx eyes. “The plan was simply grab the kid and
wait for hell to rain down, and that's what’ll happen. Also- we don't plan to hurt you, actually,
most of the people on the boat completely vetoed the idea even with Dream watching. Dream also
said no, and the only person who said yes got thrown into the ocean.”

“Who? Why? Why are you doing this?” Tommy asks, curious. He's taking it all in, slowly, one at a
time. Absorbing it.

“This guy named Punz,” he shrugs. “He was cool but he was a bit too morally gray to let it slide on
our end. Torturing a child isn't really our forte. Also- why? To get known. We’ll give you back,
Your Highness,” he emphasizes the word with a mean grin, his fangs sharp, and Tommy grits his
teeth irritably, “we just wanna get the word out we’re the pirates that stole the beloved prince.”

“Anyways- name’s Sapnap,” the guy - Sapnap - says, grinning, “welcome aboard.”

The next couple of days were spent in a room that was, in fact, not the cell, just a few layers of
wood above freezing cold ocean water.

Sapnap came back a few hours later after that interaction and told him Dream wanted him to be a
couple levels higher up, so now Tommy’s staying a few stories below the deck. He can hear the
rushing of pattering feet, shouting, yelling- the groan and straining of the boat as their captain yells
out orders. Tommy has no idea where they are - he's surprised no one has come to save him yet,
but he's positive they’ll come - and he also has no idea where the crew’s ship is in reference to
Tommy’s home, the castle.

The next crewmate he meets is on complete accident, and he could use the company, because it's
been a few days since Sapnap came to see him. He assumes it's because Dream is forbidding him
to, but with the way Sapnap talked about him, he's probably wrong.

He's sitting outside his room’s door, knees tucked close to his chest, when a head pops over the
side of the railing of the stairs. He gasps, a hand reaching to clasp over his heart, and he releases a
sigh of relief when he sees that it's just one of the crew.

Quackity grins at him, wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he hops over the side of the
railings, where the wood plants into the ground. “Hi, pollito . ”

Tommy blinks. “What.”

As Quackity stands above him proudly, hands on his hips, LAFD beanie clad on his head, Tommy
can blatantly see the yellow duck wings fluttering behind him. Tommy does not remember him
having those wings. Or the big scar running down the side of his face, from his eyes to the corner
of his lip. The guy blinks, before smiling, spinning in circles to show off his appendages. “I got
them a few years ago! Kid- I remember you when you were tiny.” Quackity holds up a hand to
about where Tommy’s knee would be. “Itty-bitty, you were. Schlatt and I thought you were cute.”

The teenager stares at him, horrified. Quackity backtracks, laughing- “C’mon, Tomás! Not like
that, get your mind out of the gutter. You had these big blue eyes, and your small, stubby hands-”

“We got it,” Tommy snaps, having half a mind to ask who the hell Schlatt is, but he thinks he
already knows anyway, “I was adorable.”

“You were.” Q says, and sighs. He sits down next to Tommy, legs spread out carelessly in front of
him. “Man, the days before I became an outlaw. I can't tell if I miss them or never want to go back
to them.”

“How is it?” Tommy asks, and Quackity hums. “Being a pirate?”

“Fun,” he says, simply. “no laws to abide by, you get your own rules.” Grinning, his lips curl, and
tugs at Tommy’s cheek. “You should join me, man!”

“I love someone with some moxie,” Quackity nods, “King Phil’s sons have always been a bit out of
the ordinary. Apathetic psycho, loverboy, and a brat who doesn't keep his mouth shut.” He
whistles, and Tommy bristles at the easy way he pokes at Techno, the way he dumbs him down to
a mindless killing machine when he's never even met him. How Wilbur isn’t just for the looks.

“Well,” Tommy mutters, rolling his eyes as Quackity throws an arm over his shoulder, his gold
teeth shining, “I’d like to-”

“Woah, whoa! Dial back the moxie sass-mouth!” Quackity holds up his hands, his scar stretching
down the span of his face. “This calls for an analogy-creating session- this doesn't put the wind in
my sails, it doesn't really water my crops, it's certainly grinding my gears-”

“Quackity.”

“Oh, no,” the guy says, stupidly, sadly. “what have I said about interrupting my analogies,
pollito?”

“ Quackity-”

“Can’t make anymore, now. Tommy ruined it.”

Tommy sighs, irritated, and tries not to slap the wound straight off the Mexican’s face. He’s
company, sure, but Tommy’s still trying to, ya know, juggle with the idea that his family might
take longer than he's expecting, and that maybe he's wanting too much from them. He's surely
underestimated Dream’s abilities to get off of Phil’s radar, but Tommy has confidence that Techno
will be able to track him down. But… It's been about a week. He’s getting nervous.

“Personally,” Quackity starts up, after falling quiet, “I want you to meet Dream, but Captain
doesn't want you coming up to the deck until we’re in the clear.”

“The clear?”

“Out of sight from the Empire,” he explains. “away from your family. Then we’ll bring you up
there. Dream would come down here, but he's manning the boat and they need him to watch for
bogies because he's got the best eyes.”

Tommy sighs, “Doesn't he wear a bandana? Over his eyes?”

Quackity snorts. “Tomàs, he doesn't wear it at night. In the day, he doesn't have it on in his cabin,
or around Sapnap. Sometimes George.”

“George?”

“Dream’s boyfriend,” The pirate waves it off. Tommy can't tell if he's joking. “you’ll meet him
eventually.”

“You're a cute kid," Quackity tells him, sitting criss-cross applesauce right in front of him. "Sapnap
likes you."

"Whoop-dee-fucking-doo," Tommy deadpans. "I am so glad my kidnapper enjoys my charitable

company."

"Oh, come on, pollito!" Quackity leans forward, grinning, and his smile is so bright Tommy has
the urge to follow along. "It wasn't kidnapping, man! We're just keepin' you till word gets out, or,
you know, your family snatches you back up."

But Quackity tilts his head, lowering his voice, "Except, to be honest, if Dream ends up liking you
- he'll be reluctant to hand you back over. But hey!" He puts his hands up, placatingly, "I'm sure
Dream will if you ask him too."

“Who else is on your crew?” Like before - Tommy doesn't know the extent of Dream’s crewmates
- and as of now, he’s met Sapnap and Quackity, and has heard of George, whoever he is. He
doesn't know who else is on the crew.

“You’ll see!” Quackity laughs, and ruffles Tommy’s hair.

It's not foreign to get comfort, for his hair to be ruffled, for someone to hold his hands. But- he
hasn't really gotten a hug or even a meek high five in over a week. Wilbur was big on physical
contact, constantly draping himself over Tommy’s back, hugging him from behind, intertwining
their fingers, kissing his forehead. He did it even before they had become brothers. If Wilbur was
like that: Techno was the complete opposite. Yeah, he let Tommy lean his head on the man’s
shoulder when he was upset or sad, occasionally harshly ruffling his curls when he was feeling
bold. He let Tommy braid his hair on good days, and has picked the blond up into a bridal carry
before- so it isn't like he's incapable of doting.

Tommy vacuums up everything he's given; his old buddies from before adoption - Ranboo and
Tubbo - gave him hugs and head pats and little things Tommy still adores. He hasn't seen them in a
while, but they send him letters up in the castle, talking about how proud they are of him getting
adopted, of the fact he finally found a home. Tubbo, and his little goat horns, and Ranboo, with his
multicolored pupils and clawed fingers.

Speaking of- there’s someone else back home. Jack Manifold—he’s one of the royal guards,
Tommy’s, specifically. He would escort Tommy whenever he needed to go out. Deep, deep in him,
Tommy thinks of how Jack might be upset at how it's his fault for letting Tommy go out alone.
And that- that makes Tommy violent. It was strictly his own individual choice to leave, to go out
without supervision. Jack is lovely. He's funny, sweet-

Jack walks him down the hallway, past the picture frames of Techno, Tommy, and Wilbur posing
together. “Are we not brothers?”

“We are.” Tommy rolls his eyes, and Jack grins, bright.

“I may not be a Wilbur,” Jack sighs, and kicks his heel into the red carpet, the velvety fabric
slowing him down, “but I'm Jack-”

“And that's enough for me,” Tommy finishes, and stands at the entrance to his door. He salutes
Jack, about to go in, before Jack pulls him into a hug. Tommy hesitates, before wrapping his arms
around his smaller frame tightly.

“Thanks,” he murmurs into the man’s ear, and Jack breathes out.

He misses Jack. He misses Tubbo and Ranboo; he misses Wilbur and Phil and Techno.

“Yeah,” Tommy mumbles. “I reckon I will.”

The next few days go as well as Tommy expects them too.

Quackity visits occasionally down in his room, where Tommy is draped over the side of his
mattress like a wet bed sheet, his hair dripping from his last shower. He stank from not showering
back in his cell, his surprised Sapnap never called him out on it- but then again, it's also his fault
for not giving him the chance to. Tommy’s taken a liking to calling Quackity Big Q, and the
Mexican didn't vote against it; he showed major amounts of ecstaticism towards it, actually.
Tommy took that as a green light, and Quackity’s wings physically puff whenever he calls him it.
It's cute.

There’s someone who stops by to deliver water and small fidget toys every once in a while - sitting
down on the other side of the door and pressing their back against it. Tommy knows it's not
Quackity nor Sapnap, but it could be George, except this George character doesn't seem like the
type of person to not talk and stay hush while sitting against a wall. Tommy speaks to the guy, and
they've talked back to him before; small words, laugher, Hi! How are you?

Small conversation, small talk. Tommy takes what he can get. While he wishes he knew their
name, he enjoys the company.

Sapnap also visits - he's the one who mainly brings him food, tells him about Dream’s plans, tells
him about the events up top. He always manages to sneak in a cheeky comment about how Techno
will not be snatching Tommy back any time soon. He won't be discouraged, though, Tommy has
faith. Sapnap won't get in his head - despite the guy not having told a lie once this entire time he's
known him. His boots clinking at the bottoms, brushing up against forgotten, bitten wood as he
walks away; Tommy knows Phil will find him.

He's also slightly positive the grief hasn't really coiled and set in. He's been taken away from the
castle before, and was found within hours, so he was so sure this wouldn't be any different.
Kidnapping is something that's real. You should struggle and cope with that grief with someone to
pull you back off your arse when you fall down. That person was always Wilbur - but Wil is not
here, so he's gotta move to Plan B.

Which is to do it himself.

Anchor , Wilbur had murmured, but in the good way.

Don’t anchors weigh ships down? He flexes his fingers, pulling at the silver, thin crown atop his
head. It’s pretty, with small red, yellow, and green jewels in the openings. Wouldn’t that be a bad
thing?

That’s what I mean, the good kind. Like—they keep you sane, yeah? Someone who's comfy around
you, and you enjoy spending time with them. Holds you firm and steady.

Oh. I’m your anchor? Tommy turns to him, spinning in his seat. Wilbur thinks his eyes look pretty;
the sun is spilling in through the windows, and it's snowing outside at the same time. You can
confide in me, yeah? Someone you feel comfortable with?

You're my anchor, his hand ruffles his curls. You're not anyone else's anchor.

Anchor up to me, love. Tommy’s head lolls back, slowly so it's comfortable, and lies gently on his
shoulder. Anchor up to me.

“Alright,” Quackity mutters, to himself, “time to pull at my big boy pants and fuck this bitch up.”

“Quackity!” Karl gasps, giggling, “You cannot say that, Quack-i-tee!”

Quackity pulls at the rope reaching down to port, yanking it up, the anchor lifting up. His arms
clench at the strain; “ Pull! Karl- pull!”

The man grunts, before he tugs at his own portion of thick string, and together, fluidly, they pull
the anchor out of the water. Big boats, like cruise ships, have a machine to pull their anchor out of
the ocean- into Dream’s boat, the Sunny, and Ender, it hurts Quackity’s fuckin’ back.

“Sorry about that,” a voice snorts behind him, smug, “I need to buy one of those.”

Quackity turns, and rolls his eyes at the show Dream puts up. White bandana strapped tight around
the middle of his face, riding up over the bridge of his nose; his long, dirty blonde hair bright in the
sun, golden freckles spreading across his cheeks. It’s pulled up into a bun in the back, yet small
pieces of his curls sling over his forehead, strings reaching outward at his nape. His grin matches
the might of the gloss across the water- his thin black tank top with an embedded white smile at
the breast pocket; a sore thumb on his ship.

Scratched, torn white bandages paint his forearms and neck, some peeking out below his jean cuff,
tight around his ankle. His shoes are battered, and are probably damper than the towel Tommy
handed him a few days ago after his first shower in a week.

Handsome fuck, Quackity thinks. He huffs, shaking his head at the sight of his stupid, idiotic
captain. At least he doesn't wear a stark-white, general hat to prove it.

“Or get a damn better ship,” Quackity sighs. He stretches, arms over his head, and he groans as his
back cracks. “this hunk of junk is absolute dog water.”

“Oi!” Dream says, scandalized, and slaps a hand on the railing, “Don't insult her, man!”

“I'll insult your ship if I wanna, dickwad.” Hand on his hips, he holds up a flat palm to the sky,
tilting it slightly. “It’s fifteen till noon, I’d say. We need to feed the kid.”

Dream looks down; Quackity mutters something incoherent under his breath, before he says,
gently, “He’s been asking to meet you, you know. He hears about you constantly. Ponk goes down
there and talks to him about anything and everything because she told me she felt bad he had
nothing to do down there. Had nothing but his own thoughts when me or Sap or Ponk weren't
there.”

“I’m worried,” Karl says, eyes wide, and his face flattens. “I’ve never even met him and I’m
worried!”

Quackity snaps his fingers, grinning. “That’s it! Karl- we should bring you down there! Finally get
Tommy to see a fresh new face besides me and Sapnap. I think he'd like that. Or George, but that
fucker’s sleeping.”

Dream’s shoulders slump, and Quackity bumps his own against the blond’s, “Look, loverboy. Just
know that you’ll see him soon!”

“I know,” and jeez, Quackity looks away as Dream stretches out, his tank top moving with him.
Karl snorts, and tugs the man by the hand to the stairs below deck. “honestly- same Karl, I’ve
never met the prince but I like him, if what Sapnap’s telling me is true.”

“He's a brat,” Quackity says simply. “he can piss you off if you don't piss him off first. A bit
tempestuous, y’know? Hotheaded, short-fused, all those things. But besides that—he's really fun to
be around. He's really funny.”

Tommy’s a good kid - he's sweet. Quackity’s excited for him to finally be able to hang out with the
rest of the crew - to meet Dream. His blond hair is overgrown, like Dream’s, curling around the
back of his ivory neck. His blue eyes have lost that sparkle it had the first day he met him; now a
dull gray, and Quackity aches. He wants better for Tommy, better than what he's getting.

Dream nods, then looks away.

Tommy jumps up and down, and it's akin to a child, but he doesn't care. He’s going up. He's going
to the deck, he's gonna meet whoever’s been talking to him through the keyhole, he's gonna meet
George, he's gonna meet Dream. Tommy is excited, for the first time in a while - he's been busy.

Mourning, if that's a word to call it. Missing his family back home. He wants Wilbur’s hands, slim
and gentle and cradling his face - Techno’s, scarred and coarse but carrying the same softness
Wilbur owns. Phil’s, decorated in golden and rings and beauty and everything that Tommy is not.
He beholds Quackity, listening and waiting for any news that they've come to save him - but he's
caught wind that they're too far out to sea.

Tommy had tried not to cry at the news.

“My family?” Tommy asks, through the opening in his rickety, creaking door, “Is there any news
of them- of them coming?”

The stranger, or friend, or whoever they are, sighs behind it. Tommy sucks in a breath, dreading
the pause - then exhales, shakily. “I- well. Your- the royal family, Your Highness?”

“You don't need to call me that,” he chuckles, trembling, “just Tommy. But- yes, the royal- Wilbur
and Technoblade and Philza?”

“Oh.” The whispered reply back is sad, aching. “No. No, Dream hasn't seen them once. I've been
told we're very far out to sea, but we have no destination, at the moment. Don't worry, kid,
Quackity’s already told you we’ll bring you back.”

He places a quivering hand on the wood of the door, ignoring the pricks in his skin. “I miss them.”

“I know you do,” the person - this lovely, lovely person. This stranger, this pirate, the faceless
being, an angel in Tommy’s eyes. Kind enough to keep Tommy company when he has no one else
on this lonely ship. The only good thing that comes out of this is the fact Tommy will get to visit the
deck, visit Dream. “and you'll see them once more.”

Quackity places a gentle hand on his shoulder, grin stretched and bright. “Alright, pollito , you
ready? C'mon.”

Sapnap’s there, too, directing them, walking in front of him. They begin to pad up a set of stairs,
groaning as they walk, and Tommy calms his pounding heart. When he gets to the top, he's almost
out of breath. He hasn't exercised in forever. He probably should ask the crew to let him do that -
he has half a mind to ask them to let him swim in the ocean or something, but there's a high
percentage they will say no.

The sun is blinding; he holds a hand up, blocking it out of his eyes- and squints. There's a small
gathering of people, and Tommy can count them: 4. One has a red and yellow and black helmet on,
over a black, wet-suit type fabric over the rest of his head. Their hoodie - the same colors, have the
arms ripped off, black basketball-esque sleeves on his forearms. His helmet covers up everything
except his eyes, dark brown, deep. He turns to face Tommy, and he can just tell the person is
smiling.
And Tommy knows who it is. They step forward, a tad awkward, and say, “My name’s Ponk. I-
uh, any pronouns.”

Tommy blinks, once, before he pulls Ponk into a tight hug, squeezing the life out of him. The guy's
a lot shorter than him, so Tommy has to bend down- but he'd do anything to be close to the person
that has been providing him the last shred of sanity he's reaching for this entire time. Alone, in a
bedroom, with no one to speak to except for when Sapnap and Big Q come by. Ponk saved
Tommy’s life.

It's silent, for a moment, as Ponk gently wraps his hands around him in return. Tommy inhales -
pulling away and gently wiping at his eyes. Quackity eyes them fondly, and Ponk flushes. At least,
of what Tommy can see of his face- the corners of his eyes go pink. “You guys knew, didn't you?”

“We knew the entire time,” Sapnap shakes his head. “You weren't exactly secretive about it.”

Ponk shrugs, helpless. “He was lonely.”

Tommy turns to look at the other part of the crew, and another guy walks up to him, his smile
bigger than his face. He holds out a hand, and Tommy shakes it cluelessly. “My name’s Karl,
lovely to meet you.”

“Hi.” Tommy says. “I like your sweater.”

Karl looks down, before his hair shakes as he lifts his head back up. His jumper - and Tommy does
like the design - is a bunch of different colors, orange, purple, green- mismatched all around his
torso. There's a red bandana, tied around his arm, and when the man notices his glance, he clamps
his hand around it. “Don't worry about it.”

“Anyways,” the word rolls off Karl’s tongue, and he giggles, “Quackity talks about you
constantly.”

Tommy snorts, and casts a throwaway look at the man in question, who rolls his eyes, “Does he?”

Smugly, “Yeah. It's wholesome.” Karl looks to the side, before behind him; “Wanna meet Captain?
Or George- actually, you can meet both.”

“They-”

He flicks his head back, “Right here.”

Before Tommy can even process his words- or the fact that Dream - the guy he's been told about
ever since he got on this damn ship, is right next to him. There’s smooth footsteps, two of them,
and in front of him stands, well, Dream , he supposes. He doesn't know what Dream looks like, not
until now, but he certainly wasn't expecting this.

Tommy thought of Dream as some brunet, or maybe bright blonde- cut short. A tall guy, much
taller than Tommy himself, with choppy dirty blond curls that are pulled up into a messy bun was
not what he was expecting. He grins, awkward, a bit nervous, and waves shyly. “Hi. I’m Dream.”

“No shit.” Tommy deapans, and reels in his fishing line. “Sor-”

The blond laughs, akin to a pure wheeze, and Tommy kinda wants to reciprocate the laugh just
because of how dumb he sounds. “It's fine, I- uh. It's really nice to finally meet you. I wanted to go
see you downstairs, but- yeah. We had to get further out to sea.”
“Away from my family.” Tommy spits, and suddenly- suddenly he’s angry, because- he's started to
finally realize what the hell is happening. He shouldn't be happy about who he's around, but Big Q
and Sapnap and Ponk and, Ender forbid, even Karl are making it better for him. He's been taken
away from his family by force- that's not something that Tommy should be told to be quiet about,
or be apathetic towards. He has every right to be upset, yet he isn’t .

Dream hesitates, and Tommy is glad that expression is full of pure, utter guilt. Remorse. He can't
tell if he feels pity or satisfaction. “I- take a walk with me, Tommy.”

The crew looks at him, before the teen is tugged by the sleeve down the ship’s outer corridors, and
Dream stops the two of them next to the back railing. If he glances down, he can see the ripple in
the waves, watching as he gets further and further away from the place and people he loves most.

The man—despite Tommy not being able to see him, he can just tell—blinks at him, blonde hair
glistening in the setting sun. “Tommy, I do plan to take you back.”

“I know that.”

“And I-” Dream swallows guiltily. “I probably did it the wrong way- and it was sel-”

“Selfish,” Tommy fills in for him. Very, very selfish. The guy kidnapped him off the streets, tied
him up and stuck him in the basement of his damn ship. Of course he's angry. That clearly falls
under the bloody category of selfish. “you were selfish.”

“I was.” the man nods, “And truly - there’s nothing I can do to apologize for that besides telling
you I’m sorry. So here it is, Tommy, I’m so fucking sorry I did that to you.”

Tommy’s always liked pirates. He always, secretly, admired Dream. Thought he was badass,
badass for being able to go head to head with his big brother and live to tell the tale.

Dream doesn't mean harm - that doesn't mean he can go the wrong way with the things he does.
Tommy’s also, y’know, intensely confused at the fact he felt the need to kidnap the third prince in
line for the crown to get people to fear him. Or- maybe it's not about fear, per sé, but it's about one-
upping every other pirate that Dream’s playing against.

They’re playing checkers, Dream’s playing chess. He caught them in a checkmate. Tommy cannot
help but admire that, even if he was caught, heavily, in the crossfire like a bug in a spiderweb.

“Well,” Tommy mutters. “I, for one, accept your apology. But-” He holds up a finger to Dream,
who looks relieved. “there is a way you can make it up to me.”

He stands in front of Dream, as equals. “You let me be on the deck of the ship. No more cooped up
in your stupid cell slash room slash temporary guest room. I want fucking out of that shit, you got
it? Let me hang around your crew. I’m not a pussy, I’m not a weakling prince who's gonna wait for
their family to come save them. I want you to promise you'll take me back home, once word travels
around the Empire. I’ll stay until then.”

“I promise I’ll bring you home.” Dream whispers, holding flat palms in the air, before considering-
and he holds a hand out. “Pinkie promise.”

Tommy scoffs, before taking his pinkie in his. “You're a nerd.”

They hush, then Dream asks, “Why are you so- so fucking chill over getting kidnapped, man?
Also, you're staying here? Until word gets- you're insane!”
Grinning, he thinks about it. Dream - Tommy now has critical inside information the law
enforcement on the island back home would fucking die for. He knows all the names of the crew.
He knows how they act, he knows a good chunk of the ship, he's got that shit those guys would
spin their heads like a basketball for. Ultimate blackmail content.

He's also been kidnapped multiple times in the past. He's not exactly surprised when it happens.

“I've been taken before, and- I know all about you. I’ve got shit no one has! I’m incredible!”
Tommy elbows Dream’s arm, cackling. “People think of my name, TommyInnit, and they think, ‘
Wow! Incredible man.’ And that is very funny to me.”

Dream’s face becomes akin to very exasperated, albeit fond. “I can tell you now, no one has said
that when thinking of you, ever.”

Tommy raises a questioning eyebrow at the guy, and his stupid blindfold bandana, and his stupid
blonde hair. “Pardon? Actually- you know what, Dream? I reckon we could be good friends if you
would just, mm, shut the fuck up? My life was better than minutes ago when I had never seen your
patronizing face before.”

“Technically,” Dream sighs, “you haven't seen my face, because I have a covering over my eyes.”

“Irrelevant!” The older blond runs a hand down his face, muffling his smile. Tommy grins - and a
newfound happiness flows through him.

He's glad he finally got his shit figured out, and he's- he's especially glad he got the Captain of this
stupid fucking boat to confirm the fact he's going to eventually go home. He's going to see his
brothers and his dad again.

But, he’s also glad he found the crew. Tommy likes them. And he's already getting attached to
Dream, who seems to be, well, fond of him. He's heard the guy already liked him before even
meeting him - Tommy thought he was kinda weird for that - but he'd like himself too. Meeting
Dream is helping tremendously with his mental health.

He's glad it was them.

The way Wilbur and Tommy met for the first time is an anomaly in itself. One of the crown
princes out in the- in the slums? Tommy was dirt poor, he didn't even have a dwelling. He lived off
of the crumbs in the dumpster in the closest alleyway and sympathetic people in cafés.

He thumbs at the hem of his new bed - sheets clean, his covers puffy and comfortable, the room
much larger than his last one. He didn't have a bed, years ago. He would curl into himself like a
roley-poley and hope that he didn't turn into a human icicle overnight.

--

The teenager stares at him, crouching down on his haunches. “Hi, kiddo.”

Tommy looks back up the brunette - marveling at his perfect, fine clothes. Never been tampered
with, the fabric clean and glossy, a soft, pastel blue. Gold lines the bottom of the blouse. He looks
very pretty. “Hi.”

The words come out jumbled, and choppy - but the other kid doesn't seem to mind. “What's your
name?”
“Wilbur!” Wilbur grins, and his brown eyes are bright, shiny. He has half a mind to reach up
stubby, small hands, and have the teen pick him up. “What’s yours, kid?”

“Tom,” he says, honest. He shrinks in on himself, and sticks a stray thumb in his mouth. “but you
can call me Tommy.”

Muffled by his hand, the words come out as ‘buh ‘ou ca’ call me To’my.’ Wilbur gets the point.

A few days later, after Tommy is running as fast as he can fuckin’ go, Wilbur looks down at him,
smirking, “Dirty crimeboy. You are taking after me.”

“I am not.”

“Little thief,” he snorts, ruffling his curls. Tommy leans into the touch, closing his eyes. “my little
thief.”

Tommy sees Wilbur many times again after that, running into him after runs to a café, his chubby,
eight-year-old arms straining to hold different treats and sweets in his cradle. Weeks, and weeks,
then months, then years, pass. Tommy is twelve. Wilbur is twenty.

Wilbur, this time, had a black guitar strapped to his back, and a small scar above his left brow. His
little overgrown fluff of hair was on the right side of his face, this time - so he could easily spot it.

The blond, at first, is confused on how he's known the prince for so long yet hasn't noticed a small
knick on his head. He's even met Techno-

“This is the kid you've been crazy about?” Techno’s hands cup his nine-year-old cheeks, and tilts
Tommy’s face towards him. “I don't get it.”

“He's lovely,” Wilbur murmurs, as if in a trance. “he's sweet.”

“I am not sweet,” Tommy squawks, indignant- and Techno shakes his head.

“No, no- I get it,” Red eyes glare, softening, down at him, and Tommy stares back. “Wil, you've
always been a softie, so I understand this.”

“What’s your name?”

“Tommy.” He mumbles, blue eyes wide. “Hello, Your Highness.”

The older pulls away from him, hands falling by his sides, and rolls his eyes. He pulls at his suit,
irritably, “No need for honorifics, kid.”

“Your forehead,” The younger points out, suddenly timid. “There’s a big scar there.”

“Big?” Wilbur’s fingers, gentle and precise, press gently on the puckered skin. “It's quite small,
Tommy, you can only see it if you look close.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“Not recently, darling,” Wilbur laughs, soft. Tommy flushes at the nickname, something in him
shifting. Brother. Big brother? “it was a very long time ago.”
“Did I know you then?” He steps towards Wilbur, where the man is crouched, and holds his face
in - yet again, still small hands. “Had I known you, or Tech? Or Ki- or Phil?”

Wilbur’s eyes flutter shut as Tommy has his fill, overanalyzing the small mark on his face, his
eyes big, bug-eyed. “No, my love, you were very little. I was also quite small, y’know.”

He lets go. “You were once fuckin’ small ?” The idea of Wilbur being the same size as himself is
quite strange. “That’s so weird.”

The brunette shakes his head, a fond grin plastered across, before he gets up to his feet; he brushes
off his knees, and holds a hand out to Tom. He smiles, “Come with me back to the castle.”

Tommy grasps his hand, looking up at him. “The castle? I’ve never-”

“It’ll be your first time,” Wil smiles. “besides, Dad needs to tell you something.

The castle is huge.

Tommy always had seen the castle from far away, standing tall, proudly, in the middle of the
kingdom. Quartz and granite, pure white walls, glared down at him, intricate and beautiful designs
painting the entirety of the walls. Bolstered up on the sides, pastel, navy blue flags hang
downwards.

Wilbur tugs him through the entrance, and people walking by, civilians, wave at him. They grin
and say hello, bowing, Hello, Your Highness!’ s being thrown their way. Some people make
questioning noises when they see a scrawny, dirty twelve-year-old by his side, but when they make
a weird face at them: Wilbur tucks Tommy beneath his arm protectively.

When they get to the throne room, gold lines the whole span of the wall, it's almost blinding.
Tommy feels a tinge of sadness, because they're wealthy. He could never have this, live in comfort,
live in riches.

Phil greets him, his hair tickling his chin, his stupid bucket-hat altered to be the same iconic blue
color as his gown. He pulls him into a hug, “Hey, mate.”

(He's met Phil before. Asked him, Old man? Do you think I deserved to be born? Because kids tell
him constantly no, no he didn't. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't exist. And Philza had pulled the
blond into his arms and murmured, You’re right where you belong.)

“Hi, Phil.” Tommy whispers. He feels like he should bow, but the King has never been one for
formalities. The first time Tommy told him Fuck you! he had burst out laughing, and that made
Tommy blanch .

“I wanted to,” the man shrugs helplessly, cluelessly, “I want to- uh. Ask you something.”

Wilbur nudges him, encouraging. Phil barrels on. “I want to adopt you, Toms.”

Tommy blinks. The world falls still.

It's the thing he's wanted since his parents died, and Tommy was alone. Since he was five, sobbing
all over himself, arms wrapped tight around his middle as he realized he was utterly alone. When
he went to that damn orphanage, where he met Tubbo and Ranboo, who had tried to help him
through it; they were only eight. They were eight.
Tommy wants. Oh, he wants. He wants Wilbur to be his brother, and he wants Techno, Techno, to
be his brother - and most of all, he wants Phil to be his dad. And he wishes he could've met Phil’s
wife, the Queen, a Siren who passed on when Tommy was six. He wants. He wants a family - and
that is the one thing he cannot get.

Until now.

Wilbur looks at him, eyes hoping, eyes wide - and the gills on his face flutter. Phil's wings,
originally hidden beneath his gown, flock upwards at the way Tommy’s eyes gleam in
consideration. Tommy wants. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Techno, leaning on a pillar in
the middle of the room, who has a considerate look on his face.

Tommy’s mouth curls. “I-”

He grips the hem of Phil’s gown, he grips him by the heart. By his blood. “I want to be your son.”

And - connected by a vessel, connected by a teardrop, “And I want to be your dad.”

( And Wilbur will be his brother, and Techno will be his other, older brother, and Tommy will be
loved.)

Connected throughout the frame of Tommy’s body, without fruition and without deadline, Tommy
waits.

He looks up at the ceiling, through his tears, and bites his bottom lip so hard he tastes iron. A hand
settles on his shoulder - and Tommy jumps. The hand leaves, before Tommy turns and Sapnap
stands in front of him.

Through his lashes, long and blonde and dripping with tears, he blinks up at the pirate, who looks
down at him, sadly. “Hey, Tommy.”

“Sapnap.” Tommy laments. The other’s expression softens. He pats the spot next to him, from
where he's now moved from his bed to the ground. Sapnap sits, and Tommy tries not to lean his
head on his shoulder. “I-”

“You don't have to tell me about it,” Sapnap whispers, to the wall, facing away from him. “you-
you don't have to say anything. I can just, uh- I- I can just provide some sort of comfort for you.”

“I want to get it out,” The blonde rolls his shoulders, a satisfying sound pulling itself from it. Sap
winces. “I need to, or I’m going to spontaneously fuckin’ combust.” His voice cracks on the last
syllable.

Sapnap reaches over and pats his back. “It’s alright, man. I’m not the best at this-”

“You're fine.” He mutters, and he begins to talk.

He tells the pirate about how Wilbur brought him in. How Techno would spar with him whenever
he didn't have to do crown prince things, as the guy called it. How Phil would let him sit on his
back, between his wings, and fly him around in the backyard of the castle. How Tommy would sit
in Wilbur’s arms as the older did homework, how Tommy would always eat Techno’s breakfast
when he woke up later than him. How Ranboo’s tail would wrap around his ankle during the night
whenever he got cold.
He glances at Sapnap, once he's shared his full, and his eyes are full of tears. He swallows heavily,
and Sapnap lifts his arm up into the air.

Tommy slots himself against the man, his arms immediately wrapping around his neck, and he
can't help it - a sob rips out of his mouth. He hides in his neck, his nose against his collarbone, and
Sapnap doesn't complain. He holds him, he holds, he holds, gentle, and doesn't let go.

It's so similar to the way he'd grip onto Wilbur when he had a nightmare when he was little. His
fingers digging into his jumper, his face shoved in his chest; sometimes it was his neck. The older’s
arms around him in a soft, yet vice-like grip. Grounding.

He's - Sapnap’s - a bit hesitant, a bit reluctant, but his fingers eventually press down on his back,
and then move in a hypnotic motion, up and down. He's so warm, and Tommy is comfortable in his
cradle, kept - safe. Wanted. Loved, if Sapnap thinks of him like that; even if doesn't, Tommy feels
that way.

Tommy cries, silent, softly, into the man’s white shirt. He's sure he's gotten snot and tears and
whatever else all over the shoulder portion, but the other doesn't seem to mind it. He just keeps
mourning - I’ve got you, I’ve got you, and trucks on.

“S’alright,” Sapnap tells him, quiet. “you miss them, I know, sweetheart, I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not going back early, because I promised Dream,” Tommy forces out, and he takes an arm
and scrubs at his face. “I promised him I’d listen. As long as I got freedom on the ship.”

“But we-”

“No,” he denies, and another tear rolls down his cheek. “you guys are good people. You handled
this the wrong way, but I’ll be fine. I-” he frowns, then placatingly smiles. “I have you. And Big Q.
And Ponk. All of you guys.”

He would be saying I have Techno, Wil, and Phil, but he doesn't. Not now. Not for a while.

Tommy hushes, Sapnap’s own voice dying down too. He stays there, unmoving, soaking in the
other’s presence as long as he can.

He liked Sapnap, despite his stupid outlook on Techno. He had full faith they'd come to save him
before they could even leave the proximity of the castle, but that obviously didn't work out the way
he'd expected it too. Sapnap had fed him, had taken care of him. He'd helped, and now he's helping
him even more through this.

Clumsy, soft, “Thank you.”

“It's really nothing, man,” Sapnap’s hand goes upwards, to brush through his curls. “you're a good
kid too. You don't deserve to be separated from your family. I know you care about them a lot -
maybe I could convince Dream to go home earlier than he needs to.”

Tommy must admit, that offer does sound attractive. “Please.”

“Then I will,” Sapnap mumbles. He grabs Tommy’s cheeks, pulling his head down so he can kiss
his forehead ( so, so similar to how Wilbur would), leaning his head down so they press together.
Tommy’s heart aches, and he muffles a smile, “I will.”

“But can you-”

“Of course,” his arms tighten. “anything, man, anything.”

“You are a brat,” George mutters, walking away from him, and Tommy follows, like a duckling.
“please leave me alone.”

He's putting up an apathetic, uncaring act. Fucker. “George, you are my favorite on this entire
fucking ship. We could-” He hushes. We could be brothers. “we could be best friends!”

The brunette rolls his eyes, speed walking, up to the Captain’s lounge. “Don't run from me, Gogs!”

Gogs and Gogy are just a few words Tommy had picked up for the man, and - while he hadn't
known George very well a few days ago, he certainly knows him now. He's been following him
around - He's my first mate, Dream had said. I trust him with my life.

Well. Sapnap had objected and said that actually he's the first mate, but Dream’s a stupid fuck and
likes to mess with him by saying George is. George is probably a second mate—left hand man?—
or some shit - Tommy really doesn't know those crewmate terms.

He had taken a liking to George simply because he thought his goggles looked silly on him - the
amount of times he stole them right off his nose - is extremely funny . George, on the other hand,
has taken a while to get used to him constantly hovering over his shoulder.

“You are a nightmare,” George bemoans, trying to shut the Captain’s door on him. “leave me
alone!”

“ Oh Gogy!” Tommy cackles, pounding on the door, “Lemme in, George! You don't want to do
this, George!”

“Demon child!” He snaps, “You pest!”

Dream stares at George in his chair, from where the brunette is trying to lock the door on the inside
of his room. “George-”

“ Oh, George!”

He sighs, exasperated. “Let him in, George.”

The man turns to him, scandalized, “Are you fucking with me? He's gonna kill me!”

Dream stands, cracking his back. “He won't hurt you,” he moves towards the door, and George
shoots to the other side of the room. “he's harmless.”

When the door opens, Dream is tackled to the ground, a gangly, blond child sitting on top of him.
The older man huffs, wheezing, “Tommy-”

“George,” Tommy says, seriously. “you must run. They are coming for you.”

Dream ignores him. “George, can you just indulge in him for a little bit? Just to get him— oof— off
me?”

Tommy climbs off of him, approaching George at a rapid speed. The older man stares at him
tiredly, running a hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Tommy?”

“I want to swim!”
“In the water?”

“No.” Tommy deadpans. “In the lava. Yes, you fucking idiot, the water.” He's been thinking about
it for a while - he wants Dream to hover the boat over a calm patch of water and let Tommy swim
around for a bit, just to move his legs.

“Isn't that a bit unsafe?” He turns to Dream, raising an eyebrow beneath his glasses. “Like - you
might get hurt, y’know?”

“Since when have you cared about if I got hurt, Gogy.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You
called me a pest! A demon child! Oh, you hurt me, George, you hurt me.” He places a flat hand on
his heart. “You truly wound me.”

“He cares about you,” Dream chuckles, and ruffles his hair. Tommy flushes, slightly, and bats his
hands away. “dummy. He's quite fond of you, actually.”

“Dream!” George gasps, and looks at the man, eyes wide as donuts. “Don't- don't say that to him,
you-”

“I always knew you loved me, George,” Tommy shrugs, like he's careless, like he knew - but his
heart is quite warm. His heart tinges happily. George is fond of me? That’s - that's lovely, actually,
that's really nice. “ever since you laid eyes on me, you just knew.”

Groaning - trying not to, yet failing indubitably, the shortest in the room says, “Why do you have
this obsession with me?”

Ignored, Tommy turns to Dream, “Can I swim?”

Dream tilts his head; considering, he says, giving up - George gives Dream a look. “Someone has
to watch you. You're probably still tired, but that’s probably why we should do this.”

“Big Q can!”

“Big Q is no less of a child than you are. I do not trust him to save your life if you were drowning
right in front of him.”

(George and Quackity are an anomaly duo. So gay, Tommy thinks, they are. George will take off
his shirt to take a dive into the ocean and the other will make kissy faces at him, and all the brunet
does in return is flip him the bird and it's the funniest shit Tommy’s ever seen.)

Dream clicks his tongue, and steers Tommy by the shoulder to the edge of the boat; humming,
once, he huffs. “Ponk can watch you.”

“ Ponk.” Tommy crows, in a funny voice. “I like Ponk.”

“I know you like Ponk,” Dream laughs, and if Tommy looks over his shoulder, he can see George
padding behind them. “that is why he's watching you. They're also mentally sane, and a doctor.”

“He's a doctor?”

“Quite. Now -” he walks into his suite - his room is parallel to the Captain’s room, where the helm
is located. He digs into his dresser, “here’s some trunks. They're clean.”

Tommy catches them. “Thanks, big man - oh my Ender, they're bright green. And they've got your
stupid smile logo - oh, Dream, you're pathetic. Get better taste, man.”
“Green is perfectly fine,” the other mimics his accent, teasing. He reaches up his hands and
tightens his bandana, wincing as it pushes against his forehead. “you'll be fine. It won't kill you to
wear a different color besides red and blue. Or that pastel blue, that you royals wear.”

“That blue would be better than whatever the hell this neon green is.” Dream gives him privacy as
he changes into them, leaving his black, waterproof turtleneck on with the shorts. He sticks out like
a sore thumb. He sighs. “You are horrid.”

“That's my job,” his lip curls, unsatisfied with the man’s response. Hovering, they head to the back
of the ship, where Quackity and Karl are talking. “I sent Sapnap to snatch Ponk in the infirmary.”

Quackity gets up to his feet, “ Pollito! Hi.”

He hasn't dropped the pollito nickname since they met, but Tommy can't deny that it makes him
feel good. The guy’s wings flick, fluttering, and he stretches his arms out into the sky, before
yawning. “You going for a swim? The hell are you wearing?”

Noticing the black smile across his thigh, he rolls his eyes. “You dick, Dream. Poor kid has to wear
your stupid clothes to swim. You coulda’ borrowed mine, man, I have good taste.”

He can imagine. “Big Q, you wear the same beanie every day.”

Quackity’s face scrunches up indignantly, before he shakes his head, sighing. “I’ll never escape. I
wash it, dickwad. It's not like it's smelly and dirty.”

“Do you?” Tommy raises an eyebrow. “Or do you just dip in the ocean?”

“Why would I dip it in the—”

“Hi Tommy!” He turns around, and grins widely. Ponk, in his black wetsuit and helmet, comes
forward with Sapnap trailing behind. He shoots the one lagging behind a small wave, who smiles
and greets him silently in return. “How are you, kiddo?”

“Ponk! I'm mighty fine, mate,” Tommy pulls on the accent. “The best person on this ship behind
George, my beloved, how are you?”

“Quite lovely,” doing the bit as well, he ruffles the kid’s hair. They look out to sea, eyes roaming
over the waves; they were rough earlier, large and angry, curt. Now, they're smooth, small, open.
Tommy could go for a swim for a little bit, but there's only such a big opening until Ponk has to
drag him back inside. “you wanna swim?”

Tommy smirks. “Yes ma’am.” Saluting Ponk, he turns around. “Bye, you fucks! It was nice
knowing you all.”

Before jumping in the water, cold and suffocating - yet free and letting him go, he hears Quackity
mutter to Dream: “He didn't even say goodbye to us..”

The blond pencil dives into the water, shrieking as he falls down. The water is cold, clogging his
lungs, and salt fills his nostrils, his eyes. He has the nerve to cough, but some sort of hidden self-
preservation pops out and goes Yeah, don't do that, you'll probably fucking die. Submerged, he
outstretches his hands, trying to learn once more how to fuckin’ swim.

Moments pass - and he spends a good fifteen minutes rolling around in the water, trying not to
inhale ten gallons of pure, unfiltered sea salt, because his insurance company would be in more
pain than he is. If that's what insurance even covers.
Kicking himself underneath, he opens his eyes - once - to gaze at the blue, gorgeous reflection on
the ocean floor. He has to squint, and maybe the sting of the salt isn't worth it, before it is quite a
sight.

When he pops out of the sea, bobbing slowly in the water, Tommy tries not to notice the way
others are discreetly dipping their heads over the side of the railing. Glaring up at them, he doesn't
notice - a wave rolls by and smacks Tommy in the face.

He splutters, whining, and a clumsy hand clambers out of the water and grips onto the cold metal
of the railing. Worried questions are called out to him, Are you okay? Tommy? Can you hear us?
Are you-

Someone grabs him from under the armpits - and Tommy has the feeling they never should've let
him swim in the first place. They pat down his face, breath warm, hot against his cheeks. Tommy
wheezes, pleading, lungs gasping for more air. The person obviously takes pity on him, and he's
pulled close, further into the safe confines of the Sunny, and right up against a warm chest. He
knows his hair is soaked, water droplets traveling down each individual curl, so this guy’s neck is
now drenched.

His trunks are covered in water, his eyes are clenched shut because of the salt - but they don't seem
to mind. “Tommy? Can you open your eyes?”

George. Tommy should've known. And something goes soft, in him, all soft and gooey at the
thought - up on deck, looking down on Tommy below, that means they saw him struggling, and
the first one to jump in for rescue was—was George. Dream might've gasped and tried, Big Q
could've been taking off his beanie, Ponk might've been climbing over the railing, Karl already on
top, but the one who came was the same man who called him a pest. Talk about character
development.

Tommy shivers in his hands. “Cold.”

“I know,” George shifts him in his hands, clicking his tongue, and - he himself is dripping, slightly,
his hands covered in water. He didn't really jump in as much as he reached his hands in the water,
but he did get wet just to save Tommy. “I know you're cold, kid, I know. Here -” he takes off his
shirt, and ties it around Tommy. “take this while I carry you back upstairs. You won't have to be be
long with that on you.”’

“I don't need to be carried, George.”

“Mhm,” the brunet hums, noncommittal. “C’mere.” Sliding his hands under Tommy’s ivory knees,
he's surprisingly strong for someone of such a lithe, small statured build. He can carry the teenager
no problem. He pulls Tommy close to him, and climbs up the stairs. “Shush, brat. Don't say a
fuckin’ word.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, trying to keep his teeth from clattering with the force of the cold. It hurts.
“You are horrible. Horrible, terrible, little man.”

George ignores him, and reaches the top; “Dream?”

“ George?” There's a rush of footsteps, and Dream bursts around the corner of the corridor. “Oh,
man. Tommy- George-”

Quackity’s behind him, followed by Ponk, Sapnap, and Karl. The latter rushes forward, towards
Tommy, and asks, “Are you alright?”
“Cold,” George answers for him, for all of them. “Sap, grab him a blanket. After I put Tommy
down, I’m gonna grab some stuff. Ponk-”

“I've got it, bring him over here.”

He's placed on the couch, and Ponk hovers over him, eyes soft. Dream plants himself on the arm of
the couch, gazing down at Tommy, and a hand brings itself to his curls, brushing at his scalp. He
can't help but lean into it, begging, because he's so cold and Dream’s hands bring him the warmth
he cannot give himself. A blanket is thrown over him, and Ponk kneels by his side, “Do you wanna
shower?”

He makes a negative noise. He's too comfortable to get up and get in the shower, a floor below.
The man nods, once, and Sapnap brings himself on his own accord to sit next to Dream. Ponk,
eventually, after running a gentle hand through Tommy’s curls, pulls himself to his feet, and
brushes off his hands. “I’m going to sleep - it's quite late. Quackity - if you wondered where he
went, as well as Karl, went to bed. They said they’ll visit you in the morning.”

“Of course, man. I missed them - night Ponk.” Tommy mumbles, into the couch. Dream and
Sapnap parrot him, both of them gravitating towards the blond, like the Earth to the Sun.

Sapnap tilts his head down, shameful, after a few moments of a comfortable, comrade-like silence.
“I’m sorry I wasn't there in time, kid.”

He's a bit surprised, at first, but eventually he gets out a soft: “It's alright Sap.” Tommy whispers,
eyes tired, falling shut. “I probably shouldn't have done that in the first place. Swam.”

Dream shakes his head. “You needed to. You couldn't have just sat on your ass the entire time
you're here, you know. You’d have to workout eventually, if not now, so you got it over with!
Right, Sapnap?”

He nudges him. “Yeah- yeah! I’m glad. Even if you're cold-”

“Can I have your hoodie?” Tommy asks, delirious, out of the blue - and the temperature is really
settling in. (Techno would give him his cape, in the cold. Why can't he have him?)

He doesn't really know how the soft, pastel green hoodie ended up on Dream, clad around his torso
yet fabric pools at the ends of his wrists, a few sizes too big. Last time Tommy had checked, he had
on a tight black turtleneck with the sleeves cut off.

Dream blinks. “Sure.”

With some readjustment, Sapnap lifting him up by the arms so he can get into the garment, the
sweater is a blanket on him, drowning him in it. Dream, apparently, had pulled the hoodie over his
turtleneck, which is now there in substitute of the latter. Sapnap coos. “Brothers.”

The green-eyed man flushes. “We are. We even look similar.”

“But,” Tommy says, trying not to grin, yet trying not to fall asleep. “we have different colored…
eyes.”

“Same color of blonde, except Dream’s is slightly more brown. And - and , you're both
frustratingly tall.”

“Not my fault you're like, 5’9, Sap. George is taller than you.”
“What about me being taller than Sapnap?”

George treks into the room, holding all sorts of over the counter medicine Tommy is too lazy to
name. His hair is disheveled, and he looks much drier than he was when pulling Tommy by the
arms out of the sea. His eyes settle on the red patch of his baby blue hoodie; a red 404 engraved
into the sleeve. It's strangely reminiscent of the pink jumper Sapnap wears sometimes, with a
poorly engraved fire emblem on the front. He would ask George to have it if he wasn't already
spoiled with Dream’s, and if he had asked, George couldn’t help but say yes.

“You may be taller than me, but your brain isn't bigger. You grabbed the wrong shit.”

“I did not,” George mutters, the bottles clanking as they're placed onto the coffee table. “You are a
horrible, irritating person.”

“Couldn't even call me a bitch,” he grins, stretching his forearms, pushing down on the knuckle of
his index finger. Tommy blinks as it cracks. Ignoring Dream’s fond look from the corner, he tries
to analyze something he hasn't.

These guys are pirates. Very, very, infamous pirates. Known country-wide as some of the most evil
and bloodthirsty ones, considering the high bounties over their heads for stealing and killing.
Killing, Tommy thinks, probably doesn't extend to innocent people; Quackity wouldn't do that.
Dream wouldn't. Sapnap wouldn't. No one here would. But, he adds, staring at this situation makes
Tommy realize just how human these guys are. Thick as thieves, hooked by the elbows, they aren't
going anywhere.

Despite having almost drowned half an hour ago, he feels very, very awake at the realization.
Tommy wets his lips, before he, quietly, lays his head down and pretends to fall asleep.

Sapnap hums, before nodding his head towards Tommy. “George?”

“What?”

“The kid. He's asleep.”

Dream sits up in his chair, a grin peeking at his lips. He could've sworn the blond was awake
moments ago. “I don't really believe that.”

George bits his lip, before rolling his eyes. Sitting down on the couch, making sure to dodge
Tommy’s legs, “I’ve known this child for about a month, now.” He looks up. “If anything
happened to him, I would-”

“Shoot everyone in this room and then yourself.” Sapnap fills in. “Mood. Honestly the same. I love
him. He's so fun to be around.”

Dream picks up. “Only child I’ll willingly hang around. He's sweet.”

“He is,” Sapnap waves his hands around, eyes bright. “someone finally fucking gets it.”

Tommy, truly, is having a lovely time. Throughout their conversation, George has slowly slid his
hands underneath Tommy's head and has lifted him up so it's pillowed against his chest. His
heartbeat pounds softly in his ears, and Tommy is also having to deal with the compliments
pouring in from the opposite ear. Mother fuck.

He has a sinking feeling they know, and to make him give up pretending is to scare him up with
sweet murmurs. Fuck them.
Tommy whines, into George’s chest. “You guys are acting very, very alike to my older brothers.”

“You have-” Dream stops. “Oh. Right. Technoblade and Wilbur, yeah?”

“Mm,” Tommy says quietly. They're treading over a dangerous topic. If they hover over it too long,
he fears he might start crying. “they're my big brothers.”

There's a silence. A beat, two. “I miss them.”

A hand ghosts up and down his spine, slightly awkward, akin to the way Sapnap had a few days
ago. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

“We can actually start heading back in the direction of the castle, kiddo.” Dream reaches over,
elbows on his knees, frown etched into his lips. “Words ‘been out, for a while, sorta. So we turned
around a few days ago, but we could head straight towards it if you'd like.”

A part of Tommy reaches. A part of Tommy outstretches the flesh of his fingers and yearns. If not,
strictly, to be back in Wilbur's arms, in Techno’s gaze, under Phil’s watch. For Jack to ruffle his
hair and for Niki to leave him small gifts in his quarters from her bakery. For Ranboo and Tubbo to
wave at him with proud smiles whenever he goes out with one of his siblings to the village below
the castle.

Another, a half, a pinkie finger, thinks about the crew, that's somehow - somehow, someway -
turned into a dysfunctional second family. When he wakes up, in a bed that Tommy’s gotten to
know, Ponk always knocks on his door to check in, like old times. How Dream knocks their
shoulders together comfortably, and Tommy, by habit, butts his head against the other’s clavicle.
When Quackity pulls him outside in the mornings to lift the anchor. When Karl has him help the
other to make choppy and fucked up pancakes for the other crewmembers. How Sapnap has him
help tie his bandana, and sometimes - lets him braid some stray strands. When George gives him
throwaway smiles when Tommy grins, brightly, like a personal ray of sunshine.

And Tommy can figure it out. He’ll have a good bit of time until they reach the Arctic. Maybe he
can create dates to go meet up with the crew when he's returned back home - because he knows, in
the end, he'll eventually end up with them.

“I reckon that'd be fine,” Tommy’s being honest. “I’ll end up there in the end, to be fair.”

“And you deserve to see them.” George says, over his head. “They're your family.”

And he's right. Tommy thinks he needs to consider that more than he seems to in the first place.

Karl tuts. “You don't know how to make waffles?”

They're making breakfast - Tommy’s nerves are through the roof, horribly nervous. He gets to see
his brothers within the next twenty-four hours, but he's mildly terrified that Techno will cut
Dream's hand off for kidnapping him in the first place. Emphasis on mild, because it certainly was
not mild. That is, the way Tommy woke up the day he was taken. Blindfolded, handcuffed, all the
type of stuff you see in the movies.

They weren't that subtle with it, nor were they smart, because Tommy doesn't really see why he
expected such in the first place.

“Not really,” he admits. He never learnt how to make waffles on the streets, Ender forbid the
servants of the castle let him make the breakfast for himself. “never had the time.”

“We're gonna have to change that, then!” Karl smiles, and Tommy's always liked Karl. He's sweet,
charming; a bit comical with the way he constantly flirts with Quackity over the dumbest things -
when the other man seems to be affiliated with Tommy’s own brother. You know, despite not
having even met. “You can't be a pirate and not know how to be a waffle.”

Tommy blinks. He thinks he heard that wrong. “ Be a waffle? Don't you mean make a waffle?”

Karl rolls his eyes. “Same thing.”

Tommy does not want to be a waffle. They taste good; alas, he does not want to be one.

“Am I becoming one of you guys?”

“You were since Dream made the promise!” Karl turns to him, sharp. He pokes the ladle in his
face. “You're one of us, crown or no crown.”

Tommy muffles a smile, yet he cannot quite hush the way his heart pounds. “Do I get the
crewmate merch, then?”

“Stupid child,” Karl grins. All there was to making the Perfect Belgian Waffle was some sort of
Pinterest-esque type shit, cracking eggs into a bowl of flour with sugar, butter, and milk. Then,
slapping that mixture into a waffle iron and hey presto! You've got yourself a fluffy tan breakfast
item that may or may not be pumped full of sugar!

He shoves a syrup-drenched piece into his mouth. “This is so good.” Unfortunately - due to the
habits he apparently keeps according to Technoblade, he talks with food in his mouth.

Karl shakes his head, sighing, “You heathen. Don't talk with food in your mouth.”

“Sorry,” he licks his fingers. He is not sorry. “Karl - why don't you put syrup on your waffle?”

The brunette’s eyes flick to his waffle. “I do. It's just on the side.”

A sin. What's the point of putting on syrup if you don't even put the liquid on the waffle? “Karl,
you-”

“You're just like Dream and Sapnap,” Karl mutters. Tommy swears he hears him say: No wonder
they adore you, “what the honk, man. They both harp at me for-” he puts up air quotes, “ not
putting syrup on correctly. At least George and Quackity do it the way I do. You don't see us
yelling at them for not putting their syrup on the side, do you?”

“It's correct.” Tommy shrugs, and he puts his plate in the sink. He stumbles as the boat pulls over a
harsh wave. “Is it raining? Or is it gonna rain today?”

“Heard there might be a storm later,” Karl replies, hunching over to glance out the porthole over
the sink. “we’ll be arriving at the Empire before you know it, kiddo. We’ll miss you. And you -
you might miss us, even if we live to even experience any missing.”

Tommy huffs out a laugh, trying not to let it be obvious it's strained with emotion. “I will not let
Techno hurt any of you. Or Wilbur, for that matter. Or Dad.”

Dad. Phil would cry if he heard that.

The other places a hand on his shoulder, before it ghosts up to run through his hair, disheveling it.
“Me and the boys would be grateful for that, angel. We're - I’m sorry for the way my crew treated
you when we first took you in.”

“Ah.” Tommy acknowledges, after a beat, and the previous sadness fades. “It wasn't that bad.
You're fine, Karl.”

“Glad,” he murmurs. “I don't believe dying is on my bucket list as a pirate, if I’m being honest.”

There's a comfortable quiet, the two of them basking in it; the smell of waffles and sweet syrup still
lingers - and Karl blinks. “Oh! Tommy, Tommy, what the honk- go grab the others, would you? Q
would kill me if he missed out on my amazing waffles. And. Y’know. Everyone else would want
food in general.”

The blond nods, and Ender, they're such idiots. He peeks his head into the living quarters of the
others - Big Q, Sapnap, Ponk, George - and barks out a, “Oi! Fuckers. Get your asses up, me and
Big K made waffles.”

Big Q leans straight up in his bed, like a board, “Food?” It's a bit jarring. Tommy would laugh if he
wasn't slightly afraid.

Sapnap pushes his head from the top hammock. Ponk pulls herself out of her bunk at the bottom,
laughing silently at their antics. “Quackity, you have to get up before I get up, fuck, man. Get up.”

George, asleep in the corner, says nothing. Tommy’s not forcing him to awake - because, hey, a
grumpy George wouldn't do anyone good.

“I’m going- I’m going-”

Tommy slams the door with an ever suffering sigh. Turning heel, he makes his way to the top of
the boat - the Captain’s room. He knocks, albeit shy. “Dream? Big D? Get up bitch, we made
breakfast.”

When he pops his head out - Tommy blanches. His headband isn't strapped tight around his face,
but Dream doesn't show any care towards it. He’s comfortable enough to show me his face. Me.
TommyInnit. His face.

The elder male appears, blinking, emerald eyes fluttering open, shut, and he yawns
unceremoniously. His hair is ruffled, his long strands framing down to his chin. He looks like he's
been run over by a car. Tommy’s slow, blinking, before he chuckles, rocking back on his heels.
“Sleep well?”

Dream meekly grins, and runs a shaky hand through his curls. Incredulously, “I can't believe you
woke up so early to make food for us, kiddo. I’m shocked.”

“Yeah,” Tommy snaps, faux-angry. “ blimey, mate, I’m absolutely gobsmacked.”

The other blond's eyes slowly blink. He looks like a rebooting computer. “That was so utterly
L’Manberg, I don't even think I can translate it.”

“I take after Wilbur.” Tommy says proudly. Before the topic can stray to the brunet, he tugs Dream
by the shirt. It's too big for him, falling down to his thighs, over his shorts. “C’mon. Food.
Hungry.”

“Hungry.” Dream agrees.

—

Shoveling a fork-full of ice cream into his mouth, rocking back into his seat, he huffs. “ Ponk.”

“Mm?”

“How far out are we?”

The other blinks, inclining his head. “I- uh. Well. A little less than 500 kilometers I’d guess.”

“Ah.”

Dream kicks back in his chair, looking over the top of Tommy’s head, feigning irritation. “Speak
SMP, Ponk.”

Ponk rolls his eyes over the sound of Oh, Dream, you stupid- and sighs. “Three hundred miles,
man.”

“Awful ,” the youngest sighs, under his breath, “save Ponk-”

“Why do you always insist on using that tone and accent for his name-”

“from this horrible, awful place. Being forced to use the Imperial system over the Metric system.
Poor, poor thing.”

Ponk shoves his face in his hands. “I hate it here.”

“Should've left my crew before this little shit came upon us,” Dream flicks his thumb in Tommy’s
direction, sighing slightly. The moonlight glows against his cheeks, his bandana illuminated. “he's
absolute hell.”

“I’m fantastic, thanks.” Tommy turns to him, rolling his eyes, grin cheeky. “I’m amazing.
Incredible. Delightful to be around, too hot to have.”

Dream’s face is deadpan. Tommy winks.

“We’re here,” Dream whispers, hand gentle on Tommy’s back. They stand at the edge of the boat,
and all of the crew linger behind, hovering over Tommy’s shoulder. Sapnap’s closer to Tommy
than the rest, brows furrowed. “you'll be alright.”

He's surprised the ocean hasn't frozen the pirates’ boat in place—it’s freezing. It’s always been
cold in the Antarctic Kingdom year-round, but last time Tommy had set foot here it was a good
few weeks into August. It's December.

Dream, Tommy thinks, is not clothed correctly for the snow, but he's a tough guy, considering he
isn't shivering. He puffs out his breath without struggle, clad in a black tank top and cargo pants.
His bandana is pulled tight, his blonde curls in a messy bun. The rest of them look somewhat
similar, except Sap’s tank is a dark orange, scars all over the span of his biceps. George’s glasses
have snowflakes plastered across the lenses. The only one properly dressed is Ponk, which is to be
expected, considering they're the smartest out of everyone here.

He's going to miss them; he knows, somehow, that he'll be able to meet with them again. He can
convince Phil - to somehow create meetups with the pirates, and Tommy - he does love the crew.
They were here for him, despite it only being a few months, despite it being their fault he's away
from his family. They helped, they care

Dream walks off, com to his ear - supposedly calling the royal guards public phone number for
emergencies. Sapnap grabs him by the shoulders, and George leans his chin on his head. Quackity
and Karl linger nearby, watching with weary gazes. Ponk grabs Karl’s hand, sighing quietly.

“We’ll keep in touch, yeah?” Sapnap asks, his eyes softening. He sounds about as choked up as
Tommy feels. “We won't leave you.”

“You won't?” Tommy asks, eyes wide. Sapnap can't take it anymore - he pulls Tommy close, his
head coming out from under George. Sapnap’s body is warm, his muscular arms coming around
his lithe, yet taller frame to hug him. George frowns, surging forward, and covers Tommy from
behind. Quackity leans his forehead against Sap’s back, his arm around George. Karl squeezes in
between George and Sapnap, his arms around the two. Ponk’s hand makes its way in, ruffling his
hair, once. Tommy is loved.

“But you guys are pirates,” and Sapnap’s shoulders slump helplessly at the idea of him even
thinking such a thought, something that isn't true. “you guys - I love you guys. But I have my
family, too. You all,” he looks at Karl and Quackity, and Sapnap and George, Ponk, back at
Dream, who is deaf to his situation. To his family, who have been mourning his disappearance for
months. “know I have them. I don't know who to choose. Or what to do. But, I do know, that you
guys won't be here with me, by the castle, forever.”

“We’ll stay if you want us to,” Quackity forces out, tears pricking in his eyes. “ pollito, we’ll stay
forever, we just want you to be here. And - I know everyone feels the same, but we're so fucking
attached to you, we don't want you to go.”

They're idiots. Tommy’s an idiot. The six of them are stupid, impressionable fools. Getting stuck
to, hearts tied by a string, to someone they're destined to stay away from. Tommy built his way to
royalty, and whatever the hell these pirates call each other — The Feral Boys, Big Q had joked one
night, and Sapnap had thrown an empty rum bottle at him, the glass clashing against the broken,
run-down wood wall behind his head. He grins, wide, pupils dilated from the buzz of the alcohol,
It's a good name! — royals and pirates aren't duos, aren't trios, aren't groups that fix together.
Tommy’s not the last piece to this puzzle. He doesn't belong with them.

“You belong,” Ponk murmurs, his hand, clad in black fabric, gentle fingers pressing against the
crown of his forehead. “you belong with the royal family and us, Your Highness.”

It's not mocking, it's not sarcastic. It's dripping in genuineness and laced with affection, Tommy
can't help but relax in their arms.

“I can do both,” Tommy sighs. He grins, trying to light the situation of the idea he has to leave
them. “I can convince Phil, I can.”

Everyone relaxes at once, and all voice their happy opinions at that fact. Dream makes the decision
at that moment to return, face grim, but he pulls Tommy against his chest, declaring: “They’ll be
here really soon. Like— soon.”

“Soon enough that I’m gonna be crying in five minutes type soon?”

Dream smiles shakily, and cups his cheek. “I think it's a bit shorter than that, my liege.”

The royal guards are heard before they are seen. It's not even seconds after Dream says it that
horns are blared, marching pounds through his ears. He can tell the way the older blonde
straightens, but doesn't get into a defensive position, as if to fight; he doesn't want the royals to
believe that he's not going to give Tommy up without a fight.

Peacemaker, Tommy had said on the boat. You want them to know that you mean no harm.

I’m only peacemaker if they don't hurt you, Dream affirmed.

They won't hurt me.

His heart is pounding so loud he can't hear himself think. He's gonna see Wilbur, with his brunette
fluffy curls and his stupid oversized jumpers, and Techno, with his long braid-able hair, who
sparred with him when his father had said no, and Philza—who took him in when no one else
wanted him. Even the Royal Forces—Jack Manifold, who was there for him when he needed him
at his worst moments, Niki, who baked him things to make him feel better when he felt alone, Eret,
who'd tell him stories when Techno wasn't home, and Fundy, who played games with him outside
of the palace when Phil or Wilbur weren't looking.

He sees Philza walking over the rolling hills, covered in glistening, melting snow. Tommy’s breath
catches in his throat—he had told himself he wanted to stay by Dream’s side until the deal had
been made, but maybe his will isn't as strong as he had taken it for. The sight of his dad is enough
to make him run right back into his arms and never let go, because let's be honest; Tommy’s still
part of the Kingdom. His royal blood hasn't disappeared in the slightest.

My family, Tommy thinks, my—wait, wait, wait- my family. They're my family.

Oh. I have missed them.

Maybe more than I thought.

An urge to run fills in him— but he can't, because if he runs, it’ll look so bad for the pirates. And
Tommy certainly doesn't want Techno going for Dream because he thinks he caused harm to
Tommy during his time away. Or for Wilbur to go batshit and beat the shit out of every single
person hovering nearby him.

I’m a little nervous, Sapnap chuckles, grinning. I really don't want the Crown Prince after my head
—your other brother, Wilbur, too. I don't want to fight them over being your pseudo-brother,
y’know. Like, I love you, but I don't want to get my balls chopped off for doing so.

Wilbur and Techno are right by Phil’s side, Wil on the left, Techno on the opposite, dressed in the
finest jewels from the Arctic's vault, their baby blue overcoats gleaming in the December sun.
Their white pants are tucked into a black belt, and Techno has a gorgeous silver crown on his
head, obviously to the right of the upcoming Crown Prince. He’s also got an ax clenched in his
right hand; Tommy swallows—he doesn't wanna Dream getting killed, today, no thank you.

Besides judging their fashion sense made for them by Puffy, the clothes’ designer, who the King is
quite close to, Tommy’s heart stops at the sight of them. He wants them to hug them, to be pulled
into their arms, to never be let go.

He grips Sapnap’s hand, George in the other. He glances to his left, at Sapnap, and mouths, Don't
let me go.

A translation for: If you let me go, I’ll leave. I’ll go running right into their chests, and I don't want
to leave you guys behind.
Even from so far away, he can see the way Wilbur’s teeth clench, the muscles in his jaw physically
ticking. Techno’s nose flares, and it's like the movies, angry air blowing out of it. When Wilbur's
brings up a hand, his hand is clamped around a dagger—Tommy gasps, and by habit, holds on
tighter onto the two next to him.

Possessive bastards. Tommy yearns.

Sapnap leans down his head, quietly mumbling, “You alright, firework?”

Tommy nods, like he's in the military, sharp and brusque. “Yeah. I’m—yeah.”

The bandana around Sapnap’s forehead shakes a little as he reciprocates the movement. “It's
alright,” he soothes, and bumps his shoulder. “we've got you. And—” his voice drops, lilting, “you
can go to your family. We’ve got it covered.”

Big brother, Tommy’s inner-conscious chants. He’s looking out for you.

He knows, he mentally rolls his eyes, talking back at his own voice. He knows I want them back.

The royals get close enough to where it's about double an arm’s reach. Wilbur and Techno stand
right in front of him, Jack to the brunet’s shoulders, Niki at Techno’s. Phil’s got his eyes on Dream
—he's going to be professional, act as a king, not a father, in such a drastic time. But Tommy sees
the way his bright blue flicks to him maybe when Dream looks away.

Besides that, everyone Tommy was close to in the castle, is watching him.

His fingers itch in their direction. George bumps him, harsher than Sapnap, and knocks his head in
their direction. He lifts up his goggles, so only Tommy can see. One brown eye, one icy blue. Go,
he says with only his lips. We’ll be waiting. Now—go.

Sapnap and George both nudge him at the same time, because they understand. They know. He
wants to go to his family, and the only thing holding him down is The Feral Boys at his back. He’s
already said he'd return, My family is mine, Tommy thinks, eyes watering, as he faces the royals.
And I get to choose who.

His legs move before he can think, and it's not really like he has to go far, because he gains enough
speed within the few seconds he's running. He doesn't really know who he's aiming for, because
his brain has completely let his heart take the reins, but he somehow finds himself with his ankles
locked around Wilbur Soot’s waist. He's completely pressed against him, his arms wrapped like a
present, encircling his neck. His nose nuzzles his collarbone, and a sob rips from his chest before
it's kept deep inside.

(It's mainly because the cries have been locked in a box within his body since he boarded the
Sunny. Or—more accurately, after he had cried into Sapnap’s shoulder, letting the man gaze at his
bloody, pumping heart, that might as well have Wilbur’s dagger ripped right through the blood
within it. A hole, gaping right in the middle of his chest.)

The weapon is dropped right into the snow, the older’s blue-clad arms coming up to squeeze him
tight. They're both crying, Wilbur’s hands shaking, and the fabric of his overcoat begins to become
damp. Tommy’s curls tickle his ear, his jaw, his nails digging into his spine. His legs tighten, and
he feels somewhat like a koala—someone else joins the hug, their chest broad, stocky. Arms circle
both of them, and it's the smell of chestnut, of fresh snow. Techno. It’s Techno. Of course it is.

They're both whispering sweet things into his ears, because—Tommy is shaking, and it's been so
long since he's seen their faces that he doesn't think it can get any better than this.
“Oh, baby,” Wilbur whispers, sniffling, and his hands are a promise of safety on his back, around
him. “oh, you're alright, you're with us, there's no need to cry.”

“You're crying too,” Tommy croaks.

“Irrelevant,” Wilbur snaps wetly. “I just— oh , sweetheart, angel, I missed you so much.”

“We've both missed you.” And Techno’s still trying to make his lungs work, because it's Tommy.
“You're finally home.”

Tommy exhales shakily, his throat bobbing at the movement, and he can feel Wilbur’s heart
pounding a jackrabbit-esque pace. It takes multiple minutes—the three of them are dead to the
world. There's probably a couple hundred eyes on them right now, counting the backup guards
Philza had brought in, the Royal Forces, and The Feral Boys, and even their father himself. But-
there’s a chance that he's talking to Dream about the plans with guardianship of Tommy.

They pull away after those few minutes in the same position, kneeled on the ground in a small
huddle, and Tommy has no idea how he managed to jump multiple feet in the air to wrap himself
around Wilbur’s frame, but he did. And the fact that Wilbur kept him in that spot, lifted in the air,
for the same amount of time. When he tugs away from them—Techno’s hands gently, soft, his
fingers painted in scars and callouses, cup his cheeks, pulling his gaze in the older’s direction—and
a few leftover tears drip down his face, off his jaw. Strangely, commonly, his face is blank, but
there's a tilt in his lips, his crimson eyes are wider than usual- and Tommy knows.

He brushes the droplets off his face, something tender in the touch he gives so easily to Tommy,
on his haunches, directly next to him. Wilbur stays standing, his hair buried in Tommy’s curls, his
fingers scratching in soothing ministrations against his scalp. Techno inhales, and presses his
forehead against Tommy’s own.

He can feel the eyes on them, like earlier—but it's a little more forceful, a little more watchful. He
hopes they've relaxed, the pirates, but he knows they've gotta have some sort of possessive
behavior in them, so. Y’know.

Techno’s eyes are sad, yearnful. Wistful. He's just happy he's got his little brother back. Tommy’s
on the same wavelength, and with another blink—a tear rolls down Tommy’s cheek. “Theseus,” he
murmurs, on a thread-bare string, close to breaking. “you— Ender, I thought I’d never see you
again.”

He dips his head, dodging his brother, pulling away from his forehead, and tries to hide away in
Techno’s torso. A similar position he was in with hugging Wilbur, except not wrapped around him
while he was standing. Wilbur’s hand retracts from hair and lays flat on his back, protective.

There’s a gasp behind them, and Jack Manifold stands, blue hat almost falling off in the morning,
snow-tipped wind. “Tommy?”

He pulls from Techno, Wilbur’s gaze following the blond’s eyes. “Jack?”

Tommy’s mouth spreads into a loud grin, “ Jack!”

He tackles him to the ground, the bald teen laughing as he pushed into the snow. “ Oh my fuckin’
Ender— I missed you so much, TommyInnit, oh my-”

He sniffles, chin on his shoulder. “I missed you too.”

He’s passed around between the guards, moving from Niki, to Eret, to Fundy - hugs being given all
around. He has a passing thought to make sure to see Ranboo and Tubbo on the way back to the
palace.

Behind them, Phil turns away from his sons, eyes boring into Dream’s bandana. “Dream.” He
nods, once.

Dream’s lips thin. “Your Grace,” Besides him, Ponk nudges him, and mouths, Be nice.

Phil ignores him. “My son,” he breaches the topic with a heavy, warning look in the blond’s
direction, in front of him. “you—”

“My apologies, Your Honor,” inclining his head respectfully, he looks up — as if he isn't a wanted
fugitive, who King Philza knows damn well that he's playing this goodie-goodie act up so he
doesn't get his ass arrested, on sight. “after speaking to the prince, we have grown quite fond of
Tommy, and-”

The King’s teeth clenches, and he feels a vein pop. “Listen, Dream, I respect your wishes, but, I am
rightfully Tommy’s father. While - you can go on trial for some sort of guardianship for him, I
promise you,” he looks back up at Dream, and if Phil could see his eyes- “you won’t win.”

Dream stands tall. “Your Excellency,” his teeth peek out beneath his lips, canines gleaming. “ I
promise you, that if I did try, I’d have a hell of a trial.”

Ponk and Sapnap stand tall by his side, George shouldering his way in, brows drawn tight.
Quackity twirls a knife in his fingers expertly, and Karl reaches over - pushing it down, back next
to his waist. Phil breathes out slowly. “I don't want to fight you boys. And— I don't plan to arrest
you, because you brought my son back safely. But-”

“ Wait!”

Tommy doesn't want them to get hurt. He knows Philza and Techno and Wilbur are perfectly
capable of hurting the pirates; this entire expedition-turned-reunion-turned-possibly-a-war
gathering was explicitly for making up with the royals. He doesn't want anyone of the crew getting
hurt in his name, protecting him—he just wants his two families to be able to get along, to accept
him while having to deal with the other.

He wants the crew. But, he doesn't wanna lose his family in the process.

Tommy pushes through the crowd as he overhears, Techno gasping as he rips out of his grasp. The
two older brothers follow after the younger one, hovering—because they don't plan to let Tommy
out of their sight anytime soon. Having him away for them for so long has caused a crevice that
only he can fix, and it bleeds. “Wait! I—” he backs up, away from Phil. His arms outstretched,
protectively, leveled straight in the air so it's blocking the royals from the pirates. “don't hurt them,
please.”

“Tommy—” Techno starts, but Tommy isn't having it.

“ No!” He cries. And for a second—he's worried they won't listen. That they'll go against his
wishes, and force him to watch them hurt his friends. “You want me? You need to deal with them
as well!”

Phil’s shoulders slump. “Alright.”

He blinks. “What?”
“Alright,” Phil sighs, “but-” he looks up, with watery eyes, and steps forward, holding out his arms
for a hug.

He smiles, “welcome home, Tommy.”

He ends up sitting in Phil’s arms, crying, getting rocked back and forth. Wilbur and Techno sit
back and watch, both of them leaning against the two with their backs pressed up against their own.
Eventually, they break away, and Tommy, with a bright grin, introduces them to all of his crew
mates.

Quackity stares at Wilbur, scrutinizing him, “You aren't as handsome as I used to think you were.”

The brunet meets his gaze with half-lidded eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips as he towers over him,
looming. “You used to think I was handsome?”

He grins, and puffs out his chest. Fingering at the pocket knife in his shorts, Quackity his eyelashes
at the prince. “ Used to. I don’t know about now, though.”

“I remember you,” Wilbur bends down, hands perched on his knees, like he's mocking a child.
“you were the kid on the street who would stare at me when I went to visit Tommy.”

“You were pretty,” he yawns, overexaggerating the motion. His shoe pushes at the snow, melting
as they plop onto Wilbur’s own feet. “I think that's a good enough reason.”

“You flatter me, duckie.”

“Oh, please, guapo .” He steps closer to the royal, his eyes glinting dangerously. “I can do a little
more than flatter you.”

Nearby, Techno glares at Sapnap, scowling. “There's something about you that really gets to me.”

Sapnap waggles his eyebrows, his piercings glimmering brightly, pointed ears prominent. His grin
is mocking. “My charming good looks?”

“No,” Techno deadpans, “the fact that you're a pirate, and I still haven't heard of you before.”

“You shouldn’t really be saying that, y’know,” he drawls, “considering the fact you're wrapped
around your little brother’s finger— forget it, Crown Prince. We’re not leaving.”

Technoblade’s left eye twitches. “Got it.”

King Philza turns to his guards, waving them off. He bows, once, politely. “You are dismissed.”

Jack, after pulling back on his military helmet, nods; he turns to the rest of the fleet. Tommy waves
at the other three nearby—Niki, Eret, Fundy—as Jack directs all of them back to the palace. Dream
stands by his side, as does George, Ponk, and Karl.

Wilbur and Techno move back to the sides of Phil, but—he can see it in their eyes how they want
Tommy there, too. Back before he met the crew, he used to stand next to Wilbur, a good couple
inches shorter, his right hand man. His brother looks distraught at the fact he's not over there at this
moment, and instead placed right next to Dream and George.

Sapnap makes his way over, glancing at Tommy. He smiles placatingly at the other three. “Has
Tommy said where he’s going to be staying after today?”
Wow, thanks Sapnap! Way to put him on the spot!

Tommy doesn't really know where he's going to stay. He kinda— really— wants to go back with
his family number one, because he won't be distracted by the Feral Boys and he’ll be able to get all
the affection he's missed for the past five months. But, if he goes there, there's a chance he won't
see the crew for a while. He doesn't know how well he’ll be able to convince his dad that he wants
to go back and see a group of fugitives—and possibly stay with them once more.

Except, if he stays with the crew, there's a one-hundred percent chance he’ll see Wilbur and Techno
and Phil again. He’ll just stay the night on the boat for a bit, then he just asks to go back to the
kingdom. But, again, he doesn't know if he'll be able to make the decision to leave them again.

“Uh,” Tommy stutters, and he can't look away from the look on Wilbur's face. “I’m—” he turns
away from him, to Dream, for guidance. The blond smiles, and Tommy knows he's alright. “I’m
gonna go with Phil.”

He's so glad that the crew doesn't make any faces like they're upset. If anything - they seem happy
that Tommy’s choosing what he wants most.

Phil seems to feel the same way, sighing in relief. “Alright, Toms, we’re gonna start heading back.
Say your goodbyes, okay?”

He nods, and turns to the crew. He doesn't notice the way, even as the two brothers walk with their
father, they keep an eye on the interaction behind them.

He opens up his arms, and the first one to bolt into them is Sapnap. He grins, “Hi.”

A hand cards through his hair, like he's a cat. “We're gonna miss you, bro, I’m gonna miss you.”

“You'll see me soon!”

“Yeah,” Sapnap pulls away, and ruffles his hair. “we will, but that doesn't mean that we won't miss
you.”

George steps up, rolling his eyes behind his goggles. Groaning, he bemoans, “Stupid child.
Horrible child. I’m glad you're leaving.”

Hmm. The way George’s arms are tight around his waist don't seem to add up to that statement. He
nuzzles into his thin beach shirt. “Bye, George,” he mumbles, and he knows the man heard him—
his smile is soft at the edges.

Quackity’s next. “Cya, pollito,” and the words make Tommy melt. “if your family doesn't hand
you over in the next week, I’m gonna kidnap you again.”

“With less restraints.”

“ With less restraints.”

Ponk’s hands are gentle against him, cupping the back of his head so softly he can barely feel it.
Tommy’s hands are awkward - he doesn't know where to put them, and he can feel the other’s
heartbeat against his own. He inhales—and fuck, had gone so long without crying since he saw his
brothers. He can't be doing this, not before he hugs Karl and Dream.

He thinks back to when Ponk would sit against his door in the bottom of the Sunny, keeping him
company in a sea of people. “Thank you,” Tommy whispers into their ear, so only she can hear,
“for being there for me when no one else was.”

Ponk’s shoulders shake. He doesn't question it—let's them gather themselves before Tommy lets
go.

Karl pets his hair, and his tank top is soft. “Hi, Tomathy.”

“Hello,” he murmurs against the fabric.

“Make waffles for me at the palace, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods. If he speaks for real, he's gonna cry. Scream, yell for someone who won't
respond.

And there's one last person to hug left.

“Dream,” he greets, tears in his eyes. “I reckon you're gonna miss me, miss me so much, because
you love me, because you know—some could say we’re-”

Dream chokes out a, “We’re brothers?”

“Some could say that.”

“Well,” Tommy steps forward as the taller one speaks to him, and his muscular shoulders gleam in
the snow. He doesn't look cold, the psycho. “I think - that we are brothers.”

“Pinkie promise?” He jokes weakly, soft. Horribly. “Swear on your mother’s life?”

“Don't make that joke if you don't have a fuckin’ mom, kiddo,” Dream says, his voice shaking. “
god, look at me.”

“You're a loser,” Tommy butts his head against his chest, praying tears don't push themselves into
his shirt. “you're horrible, and awful, and-”

He sobs against Dream’s hoodie. “Can't believe I’m doing this. I’m gonna see you so fuckin’ soon,
and yet here I am.”

They're absolute idiots.

“Love you,” he murmurs, softly, eyes watering once more, tongue sandpaper, tears trailing down
his face. “I— Dream, I love you.”

“Love you too,” He says, openly.

And they let go.

Wilbur refuses to let go of Tommy’s hand the whole way back to the castle.

“Wilbur,” Tommy tries, but it's not like he wants him to let go, because he hasn't had him hold his
hand in what feels like years. “Wil-”

The taller man doesn't listen, just continuing to tug Tommy forward, following behind their father.
For once, Techno walks next to Tommy instead of next to Phil. He can't help but preen at the
thoughts that get inserted into his head at that notion. He's in the middle of his brother's, as if
they're protecting him.

He falls quiet. “I missed you guys.”

Pretending to not notice the way they all slow their movements, so the crunch of the snow beneath
their boots doesn't become louder of the soft pangs in Tommy's voice. Like honey, Karl had
murmured, wistful. Your voice is dripping in honey, is what I think. It's pretty.

“They told me they'd bring me back as soon as my disappearance was revealed to the public,” he
says, treading carefully, and Wilbur squeezes his hand. Techno bumps his shoulder. “while I
enjoyed staying with them, I missed you guys so much.”

His footsteps line up with Techno’s, and Wilbur dips his head to remind him. “You're my anchor,
remember?”

Yeah. He remembers. He doesn't respond—there's a strange sort of melancholy that whispers

between them, a little eerie, a little untouchable. He can't feel it between his fingers as much as he
can feel it floss—back and forth, like a church bell—in his brain. It's got an aura, blue and pink.

Kids on the streets told him children like Tommy don't deserve families, because if they did, they'd
have one. Tommy had said it was the circumstances that had fucked him. No one ever believed in
him, or indulged in that thought.

No one except Wilbur.

Anchor, Wilbur murmured. Anchor.

His bedroom hasn't changed. His emerald earring lays on the dresser, Wilbur’s yellow hoodie
hanging from the sharp edges on top of the door. There’s a snow globe on the nightstand; he got it
from Niki a few Christmas’s ago.

Oh, Tommy realizes. It's Christmas, isn't it?

That's so helpful, because he wants to spend Christmas with family, and he has two of them. One’s
on a ship, miles away, wishing he was there with him. Beer bottles thrown around for kicks,
roughhousing constantly as one with duck wings shoves the other with a bandana on his forehead
to the ground. As a brunette with glasses and another one with a purple hoodie stay watching on
the sidelines, giggling as their heads slam into the wood. Another with a red, black, and yellow
wetsuit, praying that no one get’s hurt because it'll be an inconvenience for themself. The last one
wears a green hoodie, cheering them on.

Another is here, right outside his door. Maybe one’s leaning against the damn thing with his head
tilted up, debating if they should walk inside and interrogate him about the ship. He hasn't seen
them in forever; he feels guilty. Guilty, despite the fact it wasn't his fault, his fault that he was
taken away from them unexpectedly, without his own consent. He missed them, yeah, but that
doesn't mean he doesn't want the pirates.

He leans his head against the door, adjacent. “Hello?”

“Anchor,” Wilbur acknowledges. Tommy flushes. “you’ve been ignoring me and Techno. You've
been talking to Dad.”

He thumbs his crown, Your Highness— “I wasn't ignoring you.” He definitely was. He's worried it
won't be the same, that they're mad at him.
(Because Techno and Wilbur and Tommy are tied by a noose. Same way Dream and Sapnap and
George are tied. They're stuck with each other; despite the fact that Tommy’s hair is blond and
Wilbur can play the guitar and Techno can wield a sword.)

“You should go out to the shops with me and Techno, Dad already said we could,” he whispers to
the wood, palms relaxed. “we missed you.”

Tommy opens the door.

Wilbur moves in quickly, pulling him into his arms. Fingers brushing at his curls, breath soft.
“Sundrop, you wanna go?”

Of course. Of course. (Because it's him.)

Tommy points out all types of different vintage boutiques and pawn shops while walking down the
promenade. Starry eyed, glowing, Wilbur’s and Tommy’s intertwined hands swinging between
them as they walk. Techno’s matches their footsteps, and Tommy’s closed in between two of them,
almost protectively; he wouldn't put it past them, considering he was kidnapped last time he
walked out like this. They're in casual wear, obviously, but that doesn't mean they don’t get
recognized, because everyone knows what the princes look like, especially Tommy, because the
Kingdom had a field day when King Philza adopted a kid off of the street.

People bow, ask for pictures, autographs, to shake their hand—many apologize to Tommy—
especially Royal Guards that watch the outer yards of the Kingdom. They're on watch 24/7, and
unfortunately none were around when the pirates plucked him up off the street like a feather from a
crow’s wing. Commoners apologize as well, bowing at his side, kneeling, kissing the upper side
surface of his knuckles. Wilbur and Techno snicker at him, as Tommy stands red in face, and sticks
their tongue out at them in retaliation.

Eventually escaping from the crowd, Tommy pulls Techno in a shop that isn't as noticed, doesn't
have many people crowding around it—while it is a very populated beachfront walk, not everyone
has been out recently due to Tommy’s disappearance. “Techno, you should buy me the bandana.”

Maybe he's being slightly obvious, but he can't help himself. It's a dark green bandana, fabric soft
and stretchy and perfectly fits around his forehead or his neck. He looks good in it, covering the
span of his column, but he knows Techno can tell what it's a reference to—obviously, Dream’s and
Sapnap’s own garments they wear, respectively.

(And, maybe because Tubbo has a red one around his own neck, too.)

Speaking of Ranboo and Tubbo, he hasn't seen them recently. There’s a chance they're around here
somewhere. “Please, Tech? Please?”

Techno rolls his eyes, shoving him to the door, but not before grabbing the bandana from him and
heading to the cashier by himself. “Go.”

Tommy grins, calling out, “ Thanks!” before stepping out the door back into Wilbur.

They simultaneously let out an oof, Tommy giggling as Wilbur pinches his cheeks, “You gotta stop
doing that, kiddo, like, seriously. You run into me constantly.”

Kiddo. It's been a while since Wilbur’s called him that; he's missed him, because Wilbur was
always his. And Tommy was Wilbur’s, and Techno’s, and Phil’s, but he was taken away at the last
moment and it hurts. (Even, if by doing so, he gained another family along the way.)

Techno walks out with the bandana and tosses it to Tommy—he holds back a shit-eating grin, and
ties it around his neck.

His eyes flutter shut as his fingertips slide across the fabric, soft, a remainder of what he had lost—
Tubbo, he guesses—and what a surprise it is when he turns back to Wilbur, Ranboo and Tubbo are
right there. Maybe not in front of him, not nearby, mostly a short jog away—but they are there, and
here he is. Waiting.

Techno’s hand clasps the collar of his shirt, pulling him in his direction. “Go.”

(Like a pair of blue and brown eyes staring at him; We’ll be waiting. They're waiting for him.
Wilbur and Techno will be waiting. Ranboo and Tubbo are waiting for him.)

Ranboo sees him first, his red and green orbs widening at the sight—his mouth feels like straight
tart, sugar and plum, fresh-picked melon. The sweetness of seeing them once more. “Oh my—
Tommy!”

Heart in shreds- Anchor, anchor- he sprints as fast as he can, and Tubbo reaches him before
Tommy gets to them; somehow he gets there instead of Ranboo, first, and barrels into his arms. A
position akin to Wilbur and Tommy, originally, Tubbo’s horns dodge the younger blond’s face, his
arms squeezing the shit out of him. Ranboo comes around, too, a clawed hand cutting like a knife
in hot butter, through his curls.

(He missed them. He missed everyone. But he misses them too.)

He doesn't spend long with the two of them, but they both cling to his arms as long as they can,
tears streaming down their faces— We saw the posters—We thought you died, man, I thought you
— and Tommy can't help but do anything except hold on, too.

“Why do you like them?” He's on a cloud; he floats. The only one who can reach him is someone
who is high enough to hear. (Maybe, Anchor, maybe he weighs the cloud down.) “Why- what
makes you so infatuated with a group of pirates?”

He looks up, at Techno’s crimson; at Wilbur, whose hands itch to hold, to keep for himself. (He’ll
breathe, and it'll go down, down to the ground. Hologram, possibly, until he sees them again.)
“Because they’re—”

He doesn't know how to answer. What makes you so infatuated? Is it the way Quackity laughs
while he talks, especially with him ? How Karl flicks people as a way to fidget, makes sure his
shoulders are pressed against someone at all times for the comfort of another human- and that
human is almost always Tommy ? How George, occasionally, goes out to the back deck and sits in
a lawn chair next to him because he thinks Tommy will be lonely otherwise? How Dream hugs him
before he goes to sleep at night so the last thing he feels is a human touch? How Sapnap pulls him
close, up against him, just because? How Ponk will ruffle Tommy’s hair while passing by?

What is it?

“I think,” and he floats; whether that be at sea, or in the snow. “it's because they're my family.”

And, yes, he found them through the most radical and outlandish of ways to meet a person,
originally found through the meanings of ill-intent, or some sort of practice meant for harm. But—
even the most dangerous of people have someone they love. It's only fate it happened to be
Tommy, or that he'd feel the same way.

(He doesn't weigh the sea, or, the snow down.)

Techno’s brows furrow, and Wilbur just looks offended. “But we’re your family.”

He looks down, and grabs both of their hands—neither of them let go, or even hesitate at gripping
him back. “I know. You are. But- there's, well- y’know. I spent months with them, it was
inevitable to not end up like I am now. I love them too.”

The taller, the brunet opens his mouth to argue, to spit back, to sneer- but-Techno’s lips press shut,
and his vacant hand comes up to go flat against Wil’s chest. “I get it.”

Wil turns, scandalized—and of course he does. Tommy would do the same- hah, brothers- and it's
only because it's such a strange thing to say. To say you found another family—Tommy would be
offended, hurt, upset, no fucking shit he'd be. He's not surprised they both look irritated at the
situation, and the one thing he thinks to do is pull them both into a hug. One arm around Techno,
one around Wilbur, his face digging into Wil’s clavicle. “I’m sorry. I am. But it's- it makes no
fuckin’ sense. It got trapped on a boat with my kidnappers- and it feels like some Stockholm
Syndrome type shit. But- it's not unhealthy. I love them, I do; I can admit that with confidence.
Except— I love you guys, too. I love you both, I can love both. I understand that. I want you guys to
know that too. I love both.”

They both squeeze him back, pulling him closer, as close as possible, because Tommy is their’s,
but he's as much as he is theirs’ as he is the pirates’.

“We love you,” Wilbur’s voice is muffled against the back of his ear, gentle— loving , “we care
about you too. Anchor, we love you. And—I can kinda understand the pirate thing.”

“Tommy, we care about you,” He can imagine the way Techno’s cheeks flush at having to show
some sort of affection, considering he's not very touchy-touchy with other people, but his hands are
heavy against the back of his skull, like he's delicate. Something to love. (The way they do.) “we
missed you- a lot. You know that. I get the I love the pirates thing, too.”

He’s gonna cry. He's going to cry. “So you won't kill me if I go back to the pirates’ for Christmas?
After I have a Christmas with you?”

Wilbur pulls away, but Techno stays, his hands coming up to cup his cheeks. He huffs, crossing his
arms over his chest. “Well. It makes more sense now; but that's not as if I won't be annoyed you're
hanging out with them and not us.”

“You're so protective,” Tommy teases. “You love me.”

“I do,” Wilbur smiles, soft. “I do, very much. You're my prince.”

(He's his prince. Awh.)

“Do I protect you like your knight in shining armor?” He does a little courtesy, like an idiot,
crossing his legs to push the idea. Moving away from Techno’s grasp- who looks less than
pleased- he grabs Wilbur’s crown, and repositions it, playing the bit. “Is that me? Am I that?”

“ Anyways,” Techno stresses, grinning slightly as Wilbur shoots him a look for ending the joke.
“we love you. Yes, you can hang with your- whatever they are, your other family?” He says it,
hesitant, like it doesn't belong. Maybe not to him. “But, like Wil said, that doesn't mean we won't
be a lil’ possessive, y’know?”

“You still have to help me across the mountains to get to their ship,” Tommy grumbles. He also
doesn't know how to let them know he's coming. “I don't even know how to contact them—what to
fuckin’ do to tell them I want them to come pick me up.”

“That doesn't matter,” Wilbur waves it off, grabbing his hand, pulling it close to his heart. (He can
hear his heartbeat, beneath his knuckles. It beats, loud, clear—his brother. Alive, his. His brother,
no one else’s. Besides Techno. But we don't talk about that.) “Phil knows how—I don't give two
fucks about explaining it. Today’s Christmas Eve, I wanna give you my present if you're leaving
tomorrow.”

Wilbur, Phil, and Techno all give him his presents at the castle—and all their presents really hit
him in the best ways possible.

Phil’s gift is a sailboat- it’s sleek, shiny- the sails glossy in the wind, and Tommy tears up when
he's brought out to the ocean to see it. It's hooked up to the castle’s dock, and he cries into Phil’s
arms when he realizes they all signed the mast. To visit them, Phil smiles, we love you, but I know
you love them. A gift—for you.

Wilbur gets him a locket. Unoriginal, I know. But it’s something I wanna keep close to you. It's in
the shape of a heart, silver, and it goes around his neck. He wears it underneath his bandana— it's
got a tracker-map-thing in it- uh. It leads you. To me. His cheeks had flushed as he had admitted it,
but, Tommy had cried again, nonetheless. Last time you got lost, you couldn't find your way home.
Now you can. I have a matching one. One that leads me to you. In the locket, besides the tracker, is
a picture of them sleeping on the couch together, Tommy’s head on his shoulder.

Tommy never takes it off.

Techno gets him, shockingly, a dagger. Phil had vetoed it immediately, but I found my way around
it. You had nothin’ to use to fight against Dream, right? Well. Now you do. Just in case they go
insane and decide to kill you, yeah? Tommy had giggled, but now the weapon is in a sheath that
wraps around his waist—lined with pink. Techno’s color. The leather handle is signed by Techno,
and a small writing underneath it says, To protect you. The dagger might be more for Techno than
it is for Tommy; a warning, a sign for other people to stay away. They'll recognize the pink.
(Dream will.)

They both hug him individually when he arrives where he's going to start his trek to the surf.
Techno’s walking him—he and Wilbur had bickered like toddlers over a toy in kindergarten over
who would get the job, but Techno had won. Wilbur had picked Tommy up and spun him around
before he left- which is a good sign, even as he had pressed kisses on his cheeks, on his temples.

Phil’s hand is gentle against his shoulder, like an apparition standing in front of him, smiling softly.
But he's real. He's here. “We’ll see you soon, okay mate?”

He nods.

Tugging him into a hug, and it's like a blanket. A blanket of warmth and sunshine and frostbitten
snow and honey and Applejack. Wilbur’s hand cups the back of his head and presses his forehead
against his own chest—to which he moves his head to the side to accommodate the position, ear to
heartbeat. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Anchor,” Wilbur murmurs; Techno grabs his hand.

The walk back isn't that bad—he's still shocked it's already Christmas; it was only Christmas Eve
when Wil had said that he wanted to give him his present—but now, as always, as he follows in
Techno’s footsteps (figuratively and literally), they make their way to the location of Tommy’s
second home.

A burst of feeling rushes up his fingertips when he sees the sails of the Sunny, and Techno’s forces
him to look at him, a hand gripping his chin. (Easy, going—he doesn't use much force, because he
doesn't want to hurt someone as precious as Tommy.) “You'll be back.” It's a statement; there's no
question.

“I’ll be back,” and it's on a thin string, tied to the mast, tied to the castle. To Wilbur's fingertips, to
the brim of Phil’s hat, to Techno’s crown. (To Quackity’s wings, to Sapnap’s bandana, to Dream’s
ankle; to George’s glasses, Ponk’s helmet, Karl’s hoodie.) “I will, promise.”

Techno’s head inclines, once. And Tommy lets go.

The white, orange, and black blur that passes in front of him for a split second is so
incomprehensible to find out the identity that it leaves Tommy starstruck. Arms wrap around him,
and he and the pirate circled around him tumble so harshly into the snow he's pretty sure his entire
body is bruised with the force. “Tommy!”

He blinks, and grins- it takes a few seconds to recognize the voice, but it explains the way he
barreled against the blond, how before he fell, he was plucked into the air despite the other man
being shorter. “Sapnap,” he snorts, and he missed him so fucking much he can't help but tilt his
head and lay it in the crook of his neck; because he's his brother, and he missed him. “Sapnap-
you-”

“You're here!” Sapnap laughs, and pulls off of the younger, towering above the kid in the snow,
icy fringe pressing into his nape. “You- oh my Ender-” And there he goes again, Sapnap’s hands
gripping his forearms and pulling him into his chest once more. “Man. Man. You were gone for
like a week and I couldn't stand it.”

“It's so boring without you,” Sap whines. Their hands intertwine, and he realizes the black-haired
man jumped off the ship to get to him. Ships- if Tommy had to guess, are around sixteen feet or so,
and Sapnap just hopped over the railings into the blunt yet soft-ish pillow of the snow. “Dream
whined constantly. So irritating.”

When they get into the ship through a hatch in the door, locks creaking as Sap pries it open, and
the first person to greet him is Quackity. The expected Pollito! thrown his way comes
immediately, the man’s hands grabbing his shoulders. His grin is wider than the span of Tommy’s
palm, and the hug he gives the teen is tight, yet quick. He holds down a wave of joyful tears-
because Ponk’s gloved hands are gentle against his cheeks.

George shoots him a fond, ever-suffering sigh. “Hi, Tommy.” He worries at his bottom lip, and it's
kinda amusing, because the way that you can just tell George wants to hug him but is holding back
simply since he's so constipated when it comes to affection and showing how much you care. His
fingers itch- and he lets them itch, because his hand reaches for George’s, and all the brunet does is
let them rest limply in the blond’s hold.

Tommy rolls his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips, and pulls the older male into a hold that cannot be
described in words—ineffable, both of George’s eyes widening in surprise as Tommy’s chin lies on
his shoulder. Missed you, he conveys, light and heavy at all the same time. Missed you a lot, big
man.

There's something there, that Tommy is incapable of explaining because if he tried, he wouldn't be
able to say it clearly enough. A foggy window, a closed door, too large of a fire. He doesn't know
how he's hearing it, how he made it through. Some can't make it with a gaping hole in their chest,
but Tommy did, and he's here, and he still has the family he gained from the beginning. And
George—George’s hands are something he holds onto and doesn't even think about letting go of,
because he's almost a lifeline. Maybe George.. George is Tommy’s anchor.

Karl’s hoodie is soft against his torso, his brown curls digging into his collarbone even as gloved
hands reach around his waist and grip the fabric of his tunic. A muffled Tommy! rubs against the
velvet, and he grins.

Dream's fingers are trembling, even as they reach for Tommy’s own, intertwining them together.
“You made it through?”

His bandana is off. Eyes out for all to see, and none of the crewmates bat an eye, which is
surprising—he figured they hadn't seen him. Maybe they had. Someone had told him about it, way
back when. That was only a few months ago.

Either way, Tommy’s mouth goes dry, and it feels like sandpaper as he struggles to swallow his
leftover saliva. “I think so.”

“Think so?” Dream raises an eyebrow, and Ponk’s fingers graze his sleeves, grabbing the edges,
clingy. “Think so isn't good enough, seashell.”

“Eventually,” Tommy breathes, exhaling. “We can figure it out. I’m figuring it out—I will. At least
you're happy.”

“Tommy,” Quackity says, his lips parting, eyes gleaming in disappointment at the answer. “We’ll
be happy if you're happy. That's enough for us, chick.”

His heart hurts, but almost, almost in a good type of way. They care about you. They think you're
important. Most importantly, you're allowed to lean on them.

“You can lean on the people who care about you, kid,” he turns to the side—Karl. “That's what
we're meant to do. Keep you happy. We missed you, and you missed us. Let us do that.”

Sapnap’s hand is gentle on his shoulder. “Let us do what?” Tommy’s wondrous. Maybe a little
wishful.

“Take care of you,” Dream nods. They're surrounding him like a moth to flame, brother to brother,
heart to heart. “Keep you happy, that type of shit. Older brother duties and all that, y'know?”

Tommy grins, cheeks red. “You love me.”

Sapnap swings a hefty arm around his shoulder, pulling him close against his chest—the man feels
like a furnace; despite being covered in sweat, but he smells a little bit like cinnamon. Probably
Karl, who covered him in scented cologne in case of ruining into a royal that isn't Tommy. “We do,
we do very much.”

The shorter brunet, George, stands slightly aways from Tom, but he reaches out a shaky hand and
pulls him in; he's like, sandwiched between George and Sapnap, who are both vibrating happily, as
if they were purring cats. Ponk and Karl flutter nearby, Quackity’s hand gently gripping Tommy’s,
 and he can see that Dream’s forehead has dropped down to lay on Tommy’s shoulder—it can't be
comfortable, considering the height difference, but he insists.

His heart pounds like never before, because he's never been shown so much raw, unfiltered, pure
affection before if you took away the royals. Techno and Wilbur and Phil did a lot for him, but the
pirates did almost as much as well—despite the fact Wilbur found him a home. He loves them, too,
but he adores the pirates, also.

Because he is love, who deserves to be loved by the people who are willing to hand it over,
kneeling on the ground with their arms outstretched. Giving themselves over, over to someone who
started with nothing in the palms of his hands—until Wilbur glanced at him and thought, this kid
deserves something more. And he gave him more.

He gave him a home. Brothers. Something to care about; and, even if indirectly, he gave him two
families, despite already having one. One that loved him so dearly and held him close—but he has
them, too. He is loved.

The brunet’s eyes turn to him, sparkling. “And you love us.”

(And he does . He does a lot. Because that's what he does. He loves.)

(Or; he anchors. He’s strong and steady against the might of their fists, holding them on solid
ground. And even if he anchors—it took him a while to figure out.)

End Notes

AGAIN. JOIN MY SERVER!!!!!! https://discord.gg/kuBcKUMu !!!!!! PLEASE. anwyays

pls comment kudos and whatever share the fic i spent so much time on this and And ad just
give me clout i want the stupid useless fanfiction numbers

also yes. ofc there's typos it's 21 fucking k i'm not reading all that ?????? who do you think
i am? thanos? sigh. people these days.

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