Chapter Text
Pogtopia isn’t doing wonders for Wilbur.
It’s not a shock that he’s not coping well, but it's the magnitude of how badly he’s taken it that catches Tommy off guard. His older brother has gone from kind and warm to steadfast leader to raving madman over the course of less than two months.
So Tommy makes a plan–a desperate shot in the dark based on a single exchange that may have been nothing. After Dream had given them supplies in secret, there had been a comment that stuck out.
“I look forward to seeing how you get out of this.” The admin had said like it was an afterthought. There had been something, some quality to his voice that caught Tommy’s attention.
Because it hadn’t been directed at both of the brothers. The ominous false smile had been aimed at Tommy.
And then Dream had vanished like smoke before he or Wilbur could comment on it.
So when Wilbur’s mania starts getting worse and worse–always out of sight of Techno, not that their supposed brother sought them out much–Tommy steels his nerves and sends the admin a message.
It’s the middle of the night and he’s alone–hopefully, at least–with one of the most dangerous people on the server. Dream has fought a war against him and his and personally taken two of his three lives.
He walks a tightrope now, where a big enough fuckup will send him plummeting into the Void. That’s Dream’s doing.
But here Tommy is, in a clearing a decent distance from Pogtopia so that Wilbur didn’t overhear anything. It’s a further risk, but if this fails–
Well. If Dream kills him here, then Tommy will just have to haunt him forever.
The admin stands in front of him, looking as annoyingly calm and “I’m the biggest man around, look at me go” as he always does, with his hands tucked neatly in his hoodie pocket.
What a hoodie it is, too. Tommy is ninety-percent sure that horrifying shade of neon green will be in his nightmares forever.
He’s not in a position that he can diss the bastard’s fashion sense (or the lack thereof), though, so instead, he swallows his pride and starts talking.
“You’re– as much as I hate to admit it, you’re strong. You have fuckin’...resources n' shit. Help Wil– help us– get L’manburg back, and I’ll do anything.”
The admin stares at him, head tilted ever so slightly to the side. The thick black smile on his mask taunts him.
"Anything?" The single word is curious, amused, and thoughtful in a way that makes a shiver crawl up Tommy’s spine.
Still, he lifts his chin and replies, "Yeah. Anything."
He gets the impression that Dream is grinning under his mask. "Become my student, then. You’re bold, you’re smart, you’re interesting. I think you have potential and you just need the right person to bring it out.”
The absolute fuck?
He stares, and he's sure his confusion is written all over his face.
“What? I…” His brain takes a few seconds to really process it, before he shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t fuckin’ understand. Why would you, of all people, want to teach me how to fight?”
Dream laughs. The teakettle noise is bright and nostalgic but still makes Tommy bristle. “It’ll be more than just fighting. You'll learn everything, Tommy."
The word everything holds some sort of weight to it that Tommy can't really decipher. But still, when Dream offers his hand, he takes a deep breath and shakes it.
Anything for his brother.
He realizes he’s made a deal with possibly the literal devil– or, well, one of them, since he’s pretty sure Bad is one too– and has been just a hair impulsive in how fast he agreed. He adds, quickly, "I– Wil is doing bad right now, so I can't just fuckin' leave."
Tommy expects Dream to scoff tell him his concerns are stupid and childish. That's what Wilbur would do. That's probably what Techno would do, to, and it'd hurt all the more because they were right.
But he's surprised again by Dream shrugging. "That's fine. I figured as much, anyway."
There's a slight pause, like he's debating it, and then Dream reaches out with a gloved hand and ruffles through Tommy's unruly blond curls.
The teen freezes like a deer in the headlights.
Because Dream's hand is warm, and even though his movements are light and gentle, barely more than a brush, it reminds him of what Wilbur used to be like.
It reminds him of when he saw his brother smile and laugh. Really laugh, not the chilling cackles that seem to echo endlessly in the dank, dark series of ravines that is Pogtopia.
All too soon, Dream pulls away, and Tommy has to resist the urge to chase his hand.
"Just– you can tell me if you really do need some fresh air, okay? Like, if you need to leave Pogtopia for a bit. You’ll have to get out to do lessons, anyway."
There's something in Dream's tone, a little soft and oddly caring. It's strange, almost alien to hear in his voice.
No, a part of him whispers. He had been like this before, hadn’t he? Before real conflict, when the worst that ever happened was the occasional prank taken a bit too far or Dream managing to snatch his discs for a few hours.
It feels like that was forever ago.
Prime, he wants to go back to then. He wants so badly to stop having to fight.
He smothers his longing and instead plasters a smug grin on his face. Bravado is something he's mastered by now. It's an easy way to redirect people away from something he doesn't want to talk about. "What, you that lonely? That's pretty fuckin' sad."
There's a soft huff from Dream. "...Something like that."
Tommy’s eyes narrow a little at how tired he sounds.
Before he can question it, though, a twig snaps.
His head swivels in that direction, sword already in hand to deal with whatever it is–
And then the next thing he knows he’s blinking his eyes open in the bed tucked into the corner of the ‘room’ right above Pogtopia.
It's the most well rested he's felt in what feels like forever, and when he turns to look to the side...Dream is there. He's dragged a chest over to sit on and is using the wall as support while he dozes a little. Had he brought him back and stayed here the whole time?
Tommy tamps down the rush of warmth in his chest at the idea.
The long, exhausting days of gathering resources and trying to appease Wil, paired with fitful sleep and constant alertness must have finally caught up with him.
He curses himself for not being strong enough to go longer.
Dream’s head abruptly snaps up, his mask angling towards the entrance of Pogtopia proper. Tommy hadn’t even heard anything before Dream had reacted– which leads him to suspect Dream both has good hearing and is the lightest of sleepers.
That’s not what he focuses on, though; he’s too busy scrambling to sit upright. Unease prickles at his skin when Wilbur gets to the top.
His brother looks at the two of them, eyes narrowing and a scowl twisting his lips. "I see you finally woke up, Sleeping Beauty. Good; we have a lot to discuss."
Anxiety flutters in his chest as Wilbur reaches over and grabs his arm hard enough that Tommy is fairly sure it'll bruise. He's yanked to his feet, Dream getting up at the same time. Wilbur sneers slightly as he starts dragging Tommy back down into Pogtopia.
He's dreading the conversation– the yelling and accusations of betrayal and possibly being shoved in the closet again.
(He hates the closet and its barely concealed obsidian walls, but Wilbur is always calmer, nicer afterwards–)
His breathing picks up, even if he’s not quite fighting being pulled into the ravine.
They get a few steps down and then, to both of their surprise, Dream starts following. Wilbur narrows his eyes for just a second before stretching his lips into a too-wide smile and yanking Tommy a little closer to him. "You're dismissed, Dream. He’s fine, as you can see, and we really do need to talk--"
Dream interrupts him. "I'm not going to force my protege to explain this by himself." The grip on Tommy’s arm tightens to the point of pain, not that his brother notices. He’s too busy snarling, "You're not going to be his fucking teacher, he doesn't need--"
Once again, the admin cuts him off. He grabs Wilbur's wrist hard enough that he's forced to release Tommy; the teen automatically and unconsciously takes a step back towards Dream.
The man sighs in irritation, letting go of Wilbur’s wrist. "That's really not for you to decide, Soot. You're getting my help because Tommy said he would give anything to help you get your country back. I can see that he has the makings of something great...but he won't get there floundering on his own. He needs actual guidance, not just the occasional, halfhearted lesson you can be bothered to give him."
Fury twists Wilbur's expression. "So, what, you’re just going to take him away? Make him abandon me?!" "He said he needed to stay here for you, and I was fine with that. Now, though? I'm questioning if that's a good idea."
Dream advances into Wilbur's personal space, subtly pushing Tommy behind him. He can’t do anything but stand there, speechless from how wrong-footed he feels in this situation.
Dream– fucking Dream, the guy who nearly beat the unbeatable Technoblade in a duel, is arguing against Tommy’s own brother that he wants to teach him.
It won’t last, obviously. Tommy is unteachable, and Dream is a busy man. He’ll eventually realize his mistake and things will go back to how they’ve always been.
But the price of that miscalculation will be that Dream has to help them get L’manburg back.
The admin tells Wilbur, "You have my assistance until your country is in your hands again. Your brother did that; he single handedly secured a powerful ally who, when offered anything, decided to take him under his wing and teach him. He’s not even leaving Pogtopia! We agreed that he would stay here. You have lost nothing. So what part of this is so unbearable for you?"
Tommy’s eyes are wide as he stares at Dream’s back. He could probably kill him like this, he realizes with a jolt. Dream showed him his back for the sole purpose of deflecting Wilbur's anger.
It's hard not to be warmed by the feeling of someone really, truly powerful actually defending him. It's nice, and it almost makes him feel...safe.
His attention snaps back to the conversation, with Wilbur snarling and bristling at his mentor. "He doesn't need a teacher, he's plenty capable already!" "That doesn't mean he can't learn more, become more. You can't even imagine what he could be capable of--" "As your fun little puppet, right?! Pull him along on your fucking strings just to get to me--"
Dream’s voice gets colder as he yet again cuts him off. "Don’t flatter yourself. He agreed to my terms so I'd be your ally. Aside from that, you are irrelevant."
Tommy finally collects himself enough to put a hand on Dream’s shoulder. "S' alright. I don't need you to fuckin’ defend me," he says, even if his heart remains warm that he had bothered to do so. He can’t remember the last time someone really stood up for him like this. Well– at least someone who could fight back if they needed to.
"You can go; s’ just a fuckin’ family chat, yeah? I can handle it myself." Anxiety makes his skin crawl, but he grins at the admin anyway. He’s stared at for a long moment. Finally, Dream sighs. "...Alright. Meet me right outside in two days. Have a good night, Tommy." His hand rests on Tommy’s hair for just a moment; Tommy is unable to resist leaning into the touch a little.
It's gone all too soon, Dream stepping away. Tommy says belatedly, "You have a good night too, I fuckin' guess. I'll see you then." Dream raises a hand in farewell as he exits the ravine; the sound of the entrance being blocked off follows shortly after.
Cold fear twists in his gut as Wilbur grabs his arm. "What the fuck was that?" The sharp question makes Tommy’s eyes go wide. "Wha-- I don’t get what you--" "He fucking pet you like a dog and you just let him?"
The ex-president sneers and starts dragging him in a direction he knows all too well. Tommy stiffens and tries to pull away, but the grip only gets tighter. "If you want to be a fucking dog, then you should be put in a kennel," Wilbur says as he throws Tommy into the familiar closet.
He scrambles to his feet to try and bolt, but the way is blocked by Wilbur. "No, no, none of that. Oh! And we can't let you keep this." Wilbur yanks Tommy’s communicator from his pocket, making his panic spike. "You can't just--!"
"Dogs don't need coms, Tommy. Until you remember that Dream is our enemy, you can do without it. You might try something stupid. I'll keep it safe, don't worry." Wilbur shoves him away again and the iron door clicks shut.
The “room” is pitch black, cold, and as he knows from experience, inescapable. He’s trapped until Wilbur decides to let him out.