Chapter Text
After the Nightmare of L’Manberg was caught, there’s been speculation that soon the Grim Reaper would be found. Tommy thinks it’s bullshit.
The Reaper is a lot more sophisticated than the Nightmare and he hasn’t killed in a couple of years. Tommy doubts he’ll be found anytime soon.
Still, after his little breakdown, Tommy withdraws and the atmosphere in the household shifts ever so slightly. It’s not a tense or an angry shift, more contemplative.
Techno and Phil end up spending a lot of time in Phil’s office, the door remaining closed. Phil also spends more time at work, saying he’s staying to mark papers.
Phil only asks about his mother once, about what the man leaving looked like. Tommy tells him in as much detail as he can and Phil thanks him for it before offering his arms for a hug.
Tommy accepts.
Wilbur changes, too. It’s more minor. He watches Tommy, as if waiting for something.
At first, Tommy thinks they’re trying to give him space, waiting for another breakdown.
But as the days pass, Tommy starts to realise this may be bigger than him.
It’s the way they act, the way Techno seems to be scanning through police reports and the way Phil spends hours in his study. It’s the way Wilbur is watching with caution more than concern, always lingering when Tommy has Tubbo or Ranboo round.
And then, when Phil is at work, when Techno is making dinner (probably something with fucking potatoes), when Wilbur has his headphones on as he messes around with a large canvas, Tommy sneaks into Phil’s office.
He’s not expecting to see an evidence board on the back of the study’s door, showing blurry, CCTV images of a man. Next to those images are articles explaining sex workers found dead, addicts who overdosed, homeless people disappearing.
Written at the bottom, in Techno’s neat handwriting, are the words: mission-oriented, ‘cleaning up the streets’.
Tommy leaves, emotions lodged in his throat.
They’re trying to find his mother’s murderer.
A murderer who seems to be linked to many other dead people.
Tommy swallows, and goes back to staring at his homework.
He doesn’t ask at dinner.
He doesn’t ask a day, a week, a month later.
He doesn’t say anything until a month, two weeks and three days have passed.
Because when he comes home from school, when he throws his bag on the ground and kicks his shoes off, he’s met with his family staring at the news of the Grim Reaper’s latest victim.
Punz. That’s what the reporters say his name is.
Punz, who has been carved into a blood angel, with a scythe in blood by his body and a note detailing his list of crimes.
A mugshot of him from when he was arrested five years prior on a possible assault is shown and Tommy is met with blue eyes and blond hair.
Techno catches him before he can collapse.
Phil is the Grim Reaper and Tommy—
Tommy has never felt more looked after and cared for and loved in his life.
Later, when the night draws in and Tommy finds Phil alone in the kitchen, he approaches him.
“Hey, mate,” Phil says. “How are you-“
“Thank you,” Tommy breathes as he falls into Phil’s chest.
The man freezes before slowly relaxing. His arms encircle Tommy, holding him tightly.
“I don’t know what-“ Phil starts to say but Tommy shakes his head.
“I don’t want to know,” he says, quietly. “Not now. Maybe not ever. I don’t- I don’t care, okay? You’re- Phil, you’ve been the best dad I’ve had. Even will all your… fucking double life shit. I just- thank you. Thank you.”
Phil’s arms tighten around Tommy and he doesn’t know how many people those hands have killed, all he knows is that they hold him so gently, so reverently, as if he’s something extremely precious.
Tommy rests his head on Phil’s shoulder for a moment longer before pulling away. He wipes at his face, worried about any tears left over.
He meets Phil’s eyes. Blue on blue.
“Thank you,” Tommy repeats and turns.
He needs a day to himself. Maybe more. He knows Phil will give it to him.
He needs to mourn again. Not the man, not the fucking murderer- no. His mum. He needs to remember her, knowing she can finally rest with her killer dead.
“Tommy,” Phil calls and Tommy pauses, turns back. Phil is studying him, his voice soft. “I’ll always look after you, okay? This is your home and you’re my son. Take as much time as you need, we’ll be here for you. All of us.”
Tommy nods, smiles at him and walks towards his room.
It takes six months before Tommy asks.
He learns that Phil started when he was fifteen, when he heard about a boy two years older than him sexually assaulting some of the girls in his class. The school chose to not tarnish his reputation, his promising career.
Phil killed him, burying him in a forest.
His body is yet to be discovered.
Tommy learns that Phil started small, keeping most of his kills a significant distance from him to not arouse suspicion.
Tommy learns that as time went on, he found a rhythm to it, found it easier to find and hunt these criminals.
Because Phil doesn’t kill for the pleasure. He kills because he knows what it’s like to have those murderous urges.
He just chooses his victims more carefully, chooses to use his rage on those deserving of it.
Everyone Phil has killed, he’s triple-checked to make sure they’re a murderer, a rapist, a kidnapper, a pedophile.
Tommy learns that Techno was close to finding Phil and so Phil found him first. They spoke, multiple times until Techno decided Phil was doing more for the country than the police force he was working for.
Tommy learns that Techno only does the researching and helps with an alibi.
Phil remarks that if Techno ever turns his hand to crime, he’ll be unstoppable, terrifying.
Tommy learns that Wilbur came from a very abusive household and that Phil found him busking on the streets, ready to die in an alleyway rather than heading back home.
Phil offered Wilbur a place to sleep, a chance at three meals a day and after six months of careful bonding, of treating Wilbur with the love he had been missing out on and deserved, Phil also offered his skill set.
Wilbur had paused but ultimately agreed and Phil, to hide his identity considering he was planning on formally adopting Wilbur, made the crime scene look like a robbery gone wrong. Two months later, the papers were signed as Wilbur wove a story of running away and that he was more than happy for Phil to look after him.
Much like Techno, Wilbur doesn’t involve himself. He only vouches on alibis for Phil, not that anyone has ever looked into him.
Neither of them have murderous inclinations.
Phil tells him if Tommy does, he’s willing to pay for his therapy.
Tommy learns that Phil is the Grim Reaper but he’s also just a man, thinking he’s doing a good thing. He’s not disillusioned: he knows he’s a killer, he knows he’s dangerous and definitely fucked up.
Tommy sits with this, as they drink tea, the radio playing some song in the background.
He looks at Phil and asks, “what if you hurt an innocent person?”
“Then I’m willing to do the jail time for it.” Phil replies. “I’m a bad guy but I do have morals. I’m not a psychopath.”
Tommy nods, sips his tea. Phil is watching him, closely, but not creepily.
“You’re not worried I’ll tell someone?”
“I doubt people would believe you but I’m not going to stop you, mate. This is a home, not a prison.”
Tommy snorts at this, takes another sip of his tea.
“This family is fucking weird,” he says. “But it’s- none of you will ever be my mum.”
He says it because Phil needs to know. No one will ever be the woman that spent the last of her money on DVDs for him, who watched The Incredibles and told him larger-than-life stories of being a superhero.
She was an addict, yes.
But she was his mother.
“We know that,” Phil says, gently. “None of us would’ve ever try and replace her, be her.”
Tommy looks at the dark liquid of his tea when he says, “you’re fucking weird but you’re mine. My family. A good one. The best I’ve had.”
Phil slowly reaches for him and Tommy allows him to grip his hand. “You’re my family, too, Tommy. My son.”
It’s not perfect.
Tommy definitely needs to tell a therapist about his mother.
He also needs to tell Wilbur to stop playing his guitar at three A.M. and for Techno to stop adding potatoes to every meal and for Phil to stop beating him in Mario Kart.
It’s not perfect but Tommy wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Thank you,” Tommy whispers and Phil smiles at him.
“You’re my son. You don’t have to thank me.”
It’s not perfect but Tommy has never been happier.