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Tommy's hip bumps into a desk as he moves away from the front of the room, slamming the volume button on his phone and blasting his music through his headphones.
...-t is wrong with me
But I'm scared, pissed off, and lonely
I have trouble speaking to women
Unless they're 2D or high definition
Spend all my time on-
He winces, lowering the volume and plopping back into his chair. "Thomas, remove your headphones, please, we're still in class," the teacher says primly, barely even glancing at him.
He ignores her, shoving in his other earbud and staring out the window. His back itches something fierce, and he wants to just go home and cuddle Wilbur and fall asleep.
The bell rings five minutes later, and he darts for the door, twisting in the hallway to scratch at his shoulder blade. Wilbur catches up with him at the door to the school, frowning. "Something wrong, Toms?"
Technoblade moves in behind him. "He's scratching at his back. Saw him in class."
Tommy glares at his brother over his shoulder. Traitor.
"It itches!" he complains, twisting uncomfortably to try to get his shirt to relieve the itch that had sprung up just out of his reach.
Wilbur frowns again. "We'll talk to Phil when we get home, he'll know what to do."
Tommy just nods, slumping into the backseat as soon as Wilbur unlocks the door. He hadn't even noticed them walking to Wilbur's car.
Surprisingly, Wilbur slips into the backseat with him, tossing the keys to Techno. "Don't wreck my car," he warns jokingly, before curling a wing around Tommy. "Rest, okay? We'll be home soon. You look exhausted, Tommy."
Tommy has always envied his older brothers' wings. Wilbur's were large, dark brown, and strong. Greater Coucal, Phil suspected. Techno's were pink; Roseate Spoonbill. Wilbur had half expected him to be furious when they came in, but instead, he dyed his hair to match and wore both with pride.
Tommy's slipping into a doze now, comforted by the warmth of Wilbur's wings around him and his weight against his side. Wilbur chuckles, stroking his hair soothingly. "Sleep, Tommy."
He doesn't remember the rest of the ride home.
Tommy wakes abruptly, on the couch in the living room. For a moment, panic pools in his stomach, cold and frightening, before he registers his brothers, curled up next to him and fast asleep.
Phil is sitting at the counter, sipping at a mug of what smells like hot chocolate. "Phil?" he slurs, still half asleep.
His father jerks, startled, and glances over, smiling as he notices Tommy. "Tommy! How are you feeling? I heard your back's been itching."
He grimaces at the reminder. "Don't like it," he mumbles. "Feels weird."
"I think your wings are coming in, mate. You'll be alright. D'you need anything?"
"Cuddles," he grumbles, cheeks burning at the admission. He reaches for Phil, who chuckles and gets up, moving over to sit on the edge of the couch. Tommy clings to him, closing his eyes and humming contentedly.
He falls asleep again almost instantly, comforted by the presence of his family around him, warm and protected and safe.
Tommy's wings are beautiful. Bright red, flecked with gold and silver and a hint of orange, they shimmer under the summer sun like flames.
Tommy, although exhausted, is delighted, and immediately demands that Wilbur let him fly.
Phil manages to convince him to give it a week, practicing with smaller things like strengthening them and a little bit of gliding.
It's hilarious, watching Tommy's first flight. They stand together on the edge of the cliff. Phil is just behind them, Wilbur and Techno standing wing-to-wing with Tommy hovering by Wilbur's other side, wings tucked up so tight to his back that Phil can see them trembling from the strain. "It's all instinctual, Toms, I promise you'll be okay. Tech and I will be right there with you, we won't let you fall. I promise."
Tommy nods, but it's clear to them that he doesn't believe Wilbur at all. Also, he's still shaking.
Wilbur wraps a wing around his brother's shoulders. "Are you sure you want to do this? We can go home and try again another day, you don't have to-"
Tommy's wing unfurls suddenly, cuffing Wilbur on the shoulder and sending him reeling. "I'm not a coward, let's fly, bitch."
Wilbur grins. "If you're sure."
He pulls away, and Tommy relaxes his shoulders, staring very determinedly over the edge. Smirking, Wilbur leans over, spreads his wings, and...
...Pushes Tommy off the edge. He shrieks, wings instinctively snapping open. Wilbur laughs, diving after him just in case, but Tommy is already airborne, flapping frantically to gain more altitude.
Phil, chuckling, hops after them, Techno staying on the cliff to watch for a few more moments, a reluctant smile on his face as he watches his brothers fight in mid air.
Tommy is laughing, giddy with joy as his wings catch the wind and send him soaring. He's even faster than Wilbur (which Wilbur is jokingly mad about, ranting about how unfair the world is to give Tommy such an advantage) and a surprisingly quick learner.
It's amazing watching him relearn his body, figuring out his wings and growing more and more confident. The pure joy on his face when Techno joins them, flying quietly alongside Tommy, gives Phil enough serotonin to fuel him for the next month.
When they finally land, close to half an hour later, Tommy is exhausted, but still riding the tail end of his adrenaline rush. Giggly and a little loopy, he leans on Wilbur for support, eyes half lidded.
He barely makes it back to the car before he collapses in the backseat and falls asleep on a startled Technoblade's shoulder. The elder looks amused and a little worried, but allows the contact, ruffling Tommy's hair and soothing him when Phil jostles them both putting a seatbelt over the kid.
Techno has to carry him inside (well, he doesn't have to, but the others very graciously ignore how he turns down Wilbur's offer to take over the care of the gremlin) and put him to bed, leaving one of his sweaters and an old scarf of Wilbur's so that the boy has a little more to nest with if he wakes up with the urge. After a few more moments of standing in the doorway, staring, Techno gives in and drags the rest of his family in to sleep in Tommy's bed.
They curl around each other, wings instinctively shifting to make room for everyone, wrapping protectively around Tommy. They're quite a sight, their colours clashing as wings overlap, but it reminds Techno of warmth. Of safety. They slot together, perfect puzzle pieces aligned in a slightly crooked picture.
This is home.