Chapter Text
Living in a small town fucking sucks.
Just ask Thomas Innes, aka Tommy, a member of the Minecraft flock. He was adopted as a toddler by the head, Philza, and thus has grown up in this backend, nowhere, boring and sin place.
There is absolutely nothing to do. He’s heard that other places have like, plays and musicians and even some crazy new invention called movies.
Movies sound amazing. Too bad he’ll never see one, not as long as he’s stuck in Rutebegaville.
What a stupid name; nobody even grows the damn stuff. He hates everything about this place, including and especially that he’s stuck here “for his own good.”
It’s been explained to him dozens of times over that it’s dangerous for him to be exposed to too many people. There are those who would hunt him like an animal simply for the fact that he’s a phoenix.
Phoenixes are rare, his dad has lectured him countless times, and they possess incredible power. You can heal almost any wound, even ones that would otherwise be fatal. If people found out about you, mate, they’d kidnap you and rip out your feathers. I know it’s boring, but we can’t risk you being hurt.
That excuse has grown less and less tolerable over the years. He’s practically an adult now! An almost-adult– alldult, if you will– at the grand age of seventeen and three fourths.
He can handle keeping his secret. He’s not stupid.
Besides, it’s like– like an itch under his skin. His power cries out to be used, to be shared. At times it almost hurts, feels like what must be burning.
The pain from holding his power back is why his flock, his family, opened up a hospital. Well– hospital is a stretch. They heal people and pretend it’s medicine, but they do it from an extension built onto their house.
It helps sometimes, but for the most part that itch remains. It’s constant and soul-deep, something he can never truly escape.
His brother, Wilbur, does try to help…sometimes. He got in trouble when they were younger for giving himself little wounds for Tommy to heal. It was pretty much the only relief he’d get until their dad accepted that his powers needed to be used.
However.
Now that they’re older, Wilbur has gotten into the habit of being a smarmy asshole. He flaunts the fact that he’s free to leave and go other places, free to experience the larger world, and free to just– do whatever the fuck he wants.
Dinners are often spent with Wilbur regaling them with tales of his travels. He’s gone off again now, of course, along with the last member of the flock.
Techno is a weird one. He’s an old friend of Phil’s, one he met during his past as a mercenary. He’s quiet and awkward, sometimes seeming like he doesn’t care.
He’s also the only one who actually believes that Tommy can handle a little more exposure. Not a ton– he’s not willing to go as far as letting Tommy actually go anywhere on his own.
But he has taken Tommy to a larger town a few hours away. It was a brief trip, they were only there two days, but–
Ever since then, Tommy has craved more.
Staying in this town forever will probably kill him. Not literally– nothing ever happens here, it’s not like he’ll get murdered or anything crazy like that– but more like…his soul. His spirit.
Maybe even his sanity.
It’s depressing to ruminate in those thoughts, but, well, it’s not like Tommy has anything else to do. Tubbo and Ranboo are off with their families on a grand old vacation, meaning Tommy is left all on his own.
Currently, he’s “manning the front desk” of the “hospital”. More like he’s kicked back in chair and trying– and failing– to read a book.
His thoughts are just too loud. And the pressure-burning-pain from his powers is driving him nuts.
It’s getting so bad that even his wings are starting to itch. He knows they don’t need to be preened, because he and Phil took care of that just yesterday.
Right as he’s debating the merits of just– giving himself little paper cuts on his legs and healing them over and over just to get some goddamned relief, the door slams open.
The suddenness of it startles him so badly that he falls out of his chair. He definitely doesn’t also squeak in surprise and alarm, because that’s not a thing that a big man would do.
He scrambles to his feet and tries to smooth the feathers of his wings. They look like an American Kestrel, which has always pissed him off. The bird is tiny and cute– nothing like the big man that is Tommy.
The two people standing in the room are strangers, which immediately piques Tommy’s interest. People don’t just drop by Rutebegaville for a day trip– there’s nothing here for visitors, to say nothing of tourists.
One of the duo is a man maybe a head shorter than Tommy is. His eyes are orange and almost seem like they glow a little. He radiates so much heat that even with a desk between them, Tommy can feel it.
He must be one of those, uh, blaze hybrids, right? He’s devoured pretty much every book he has access to, including ones about various hybrids that are out there. Blazes are native to the nether, a place Tommy has never been to.
It’s dumb, because fire and heat literally don’t hurt him. The lava that’s apparently everywhere probably would just be pleasant to swim in.
…At least, until it burned his clothes up.
The other guy, though, keeps drawing Tommy’s gaze. He’s got some sort of weird glasses on that make it impossible to see his eyes, but it still feels like he’s watching Tommy in a way that he’s never experienced before.
The second guy is taller but kind of willowy. Like Ranboo or Wilbur– basically a stick. Despite the entirely boring, mundane clothes, something about him feels otherworldly.
Oh, and they’re both covered in blood. That’s probably the most pressing detail about them.
His dad is currently asleep, because nobody comes in at night, but Tommy is out here in the vain hope that maybe someone would see the light and pop in to keep him company.
Evidently his wish has been granted.
He opens his mouth, but the first guy says, “Our friend needs help.”
Tommy nods, heart racing a little. This is the most excitement he’s seen…maybe ever?
Like, he’s vaguely helped with a few births in the town, but that’s nothing compared to whatever the hell is happening here.
“Bring him in, we can help.”
The two grimace. The willowy guy tells him, “He can’t be moved.”
Oh, shit. This is like, serious then.
“Okay, uh– let me get my–” “No. Nobody else, just you.”
He hesitates.
On paper, this is the stupidest fucking thing he could do. Going with two strangers who show up bloody and tell him that nobody else can come to wherever their friend is? He might as well just set himself on fire and do a little song and dance, confirming that he’s a phoenix.
All the horrible fates he's been warned of could be about to come true.
…On the other hand.
Someone is hurt. That’s too much blood to be safe. Even if it’s a trap, it’s a trap with a real person in actual danger.
If he refuses, makes a scene, his dad will probably protect him. These guys don’t look like pushovers, but his dad is pretty tough.
But the person who’s hurt will probably die.
He inhales sharply and scrawls a hasty note that he’s going for a walk. He holds his chin up and says, “Alright. Take me to ‘em.”
The two look relieved– which eases Tommy’s nerves just a bit– and walk out the door.
He’s led through the quiet town, past the outskirts, to a cave he’s poked around in a few times.
And–
He stops dead in his tracks.
That’s not a guy. That’s a fucking dragon.
A literal motherfucking dragon is chilling in a cave just outside of Rutebegavilla, of all places.
The blaze hybrid says, “You can help him, right?”
That snaps him out of his confusion. Okay, yeah– now that he’s looking, in the dim light provided by the torches shows tons of blood.
He gets down on his knees in the blood and puts his hands on the dragon’s side. It’s sticky with dark blood, and the dragon shudders at his touch.
There’s nothing that can stop his powers from pouring out. Fire races from his soul and through his hands, magic sinking through the green-black scales and into the dragon that has somehow crossed paths with him.
He has no idea how long he channels it for. He lets the power do its work until something tells him he’s done all he can do.
Tommy sinks backwards, and only belatedly remembers that there’s blood everywhere.
Whatever; these pants are ruined anyway.
He’s grinning, feeling lighter than he has in a long, long time. There’s not even a twinge from his powers– they’re calm and quiet.
He’s never used this much before. It feels…good. It feels amazing, actually! He just saved a fucking dragon– him, Tommy Innes, has saved a DRAGON.
A laugh escapes him, quiet at first. And then louder, turning into a cackling whoop.
“I fuckin’ healed a dragon! Holy fuckin’ shit– this is the best day of my fuckin’ life!”
He’s startled when he’s crushed in a hug from the side. “Oh my god. Oh my god– I don’t know how you did it, but, but–”
“You didn’t fuckin’ know?” He’s confused that the guy– the probably-blaze hybrid, the heat he's putting off is a dead giveaway– didn’t actually know what he could do.
Why did they insist that it was him, then? If they didn’t know he’s a phoenix, they should have gone to his dad. On paper, his dad is the “doctor”-- Tommy is just the “nurse”.
…And everything else, pretty much.
The guy pulls back, and Tommy is a little surprised to see that up close, the color of his eyes shifts around a little. They look like tiny fires.
“I didn’t, I just had to– George just knows stuff.”
Tommy looks quizzically at the other guy, who must be George.
George just shrugs, seeming relieved but still aloof. “I can feel magic and have a strong intuition. I knew you were the only one who could help as soon as I saw you.”
Huh. Weird as fuck, but that’s probably preferable to anything else.
He glances between them, and then holds out his hand. “I’m Tommy.” “Sapnap,” the blaze replies, giving him a hardy shake.
His hands are calloused like Phil and Techno’s. Tommy’s, by contrast, are softer than he’d like. He’s had a little training, but everyone gets so overprotective that they won’t even let him get to be a cool badass with a sword.
“George,” George says, as through Sapnap didn’t already say his name.
They’re quiet for a minute, and then Sapnap clears his throat. “Uh, so, about all this–” “Don’t say anything until tomorrow. We know where you live and we’ll use that against you if you try and hurt him,” George warns.
Tommy squints at them. “...The fuck would I do that for? I just healed him, it’s dumb to go n’ hurt him again. Besides, tit for fuckin’ tat– I know your secret, you know mine.”
There’s another pause.
“...Your secret, right,” George says, sounding weirdly doubtful. “Kinda fuckin’ thought you might kidnap me or something, actually.” “Then why did you–”
He rolls his eyes at Sapnap’s question. “The blood, duh. Even if it was a fuckin’ trap or something, someone’d die if I did nothing. Didn’t want blood on my hands n’ all that.”
He glances at his hands, which are in fact very bloody.
“Metaphorically, I mean. Literally is fine.”
Since his pants are already ruined, he wipes his hands on them to get most of it off.
George, who has been studying him, finally lifts his weird glasses.
His eyes are two different colors, like a more obvious version of Ranboo’s. Boo has just slightly different shades, but this guy has one brown and one blue.
After taking several steps forward and staring at him intently, George’s eyes widen.
“Oh. You’re a phoenix.” “Phoenixes are a myth, or they died out ages ago,” Sapnap scoffs.
Tommy rolls his eyes. “Then the fuck do you think just happened, dumbass?” “I– there is no fucking way you’re a–”
He heaves a sigh and stretches his wings out.
Then he sets them on fire.
Sapnap yelps and scrambles backwards, despite probably being immune to the fire. George, meanwhile, just seems curious.
Having proved his point, Tommy calls the fire back and settles his wings back down.
“See? Tit for tat. Don’t fuckin’ rat me out n’ I’ll stay quiet, too.”
…Though, come to think of it.
Don’t they owe him?
Wheels turning in his head, he asks, “So– the fuck happened, that he got that hurt?”
Since Sapnap is still recovering from the realization that Tommy is a phoenix, George answers. “We’re mercenaries. We got a job to guard a caravan, but it was ambushed by an army. Dream protected us, but we barely made it here.”
Mercenaries? Like his dad and Techno had been before they retired and settled down?
“So you fuckin’ travel a lot, then? Go lots of places, see lots of shit?”
Sapnap finally gets over his shock and scoffs, “We go everywhere.”
Holy fucking shit. It’s his ticket out.
His family might be worried, but Tommy is way more concerned about how he’ll go crazy if he has to stay here any longer.
Tommy sits up straight and tells them, “Take me with you.”
“What? No, you’re like a kid–” “Fuck you, I’m a big man!” “We can’t afford to have you tagging along. It’s dangerous,” George sighs.
He narrows his eyes and jabs a finger towards Dream. “I saved his fuckin’ life. I can heal pretty much anything. N’ I’m not– just a few months! I don’t wanna go forever, but this is my only fuckin’ chance.”
Sapnap shakes his head. “No, we can’t. It’s not safe, Tommy.”
Tommy looks at him, then at the dragon– Dream, apparently– and then folds his arms over his chest. “Take me with you for six months, or else I’ll fuckin’ go to everyone I know n’ tell ‘em you lot tried to kidnap me. N’ that you have a fuckin’ dragon hostage, too.”
They both reel from the threat.
“...What?” “You fuckin’ heard me, bitch!”
It’s about at that point that he hears a groan that sounds…disturbingly human.
He snaps his head back towards the dragon, but–
The dragon is gone.
In its place is a dude. A dude who is thankfully clothed, though the clothes are in pretty bad shape. He squints at the three of them and asks, “What…happened? Who is…”
Deciding that playing coy is pointless, Tommy scoots forward and shoves his hand in his face. “Hi, I’m Tommy. I healed you, n’ now you owe me.”
“...George, Sapnap, what’s going on?”
There’s clear wariness in Dream’s voice, his bright green eyes narrowed at they dart between the other two and Tommy.
Sapnap sighs. “George found a phoenix, apparently.” “Oh. So this kid is–” “Not a fuckin’ kid, n’ yes, I healed you. You’re fuckin’ welcome. My payment is–”
“He wants to go with us. He’s actually threatening us, saying he’ll tell everyone we’re trying to kidnap him if we don’t,” George interrupts.
Dream squints at Tommy, clearly giving him a once-over.
“Uh. No.”
Tommy glares at him. “Real fuckin’ ungrateful to the guy that saved your life.” “Look, kid–” “Still not a kid!” “Just because you have healing powers doesn’t mean you’re cut out for what we do.”
“Don’t fuckin’ care. I stay here any longer n’ I’ll go crazy. Either take me with you n’ I can be a fuckin’ asset, given I can literally fuckin’ heal anything, or I’ll make your lives hell,” he snaps.
Dream drags a hand down his face. He looks exhausted, which is understandable given he almost died.
“It’s not– do you have any idea what a mercenary even does?” “Uh, yeah? Two’ve my flock’re ex-mercs. I’ve heard plenty– Phil is real fuckin’ stingy with stories, tries to sanitize ‘em n’ shit, but Technoblade–”
“Wait wait wait. Technoblade, you said?”
Tommy pauses at Sapnap’s breathless interruption. “...Yeah? You fuckin’ know Tech?”
“Know– know him?!” Sapnap grabs his shoulders and laughs. “Holy shit, dude– he’s famous! He’s like– the most famous merc in the last hundred years! He literally took down corrupt kingdoms, governments– anyone who abused their power, Technoblade appeared at their door and brought them justice. Him and…”
Sapnap trails off, and then straightens up. “...Phil. Like Philza? Philza Minecraft? The– the fucking angel of death? You’re part of their flock?!”
Techo is famous? The old man is famous?
He stares blankly at Sapnap, then looks back to Dream. “Are they fuckin’ big deals or something?”
Dream looks quietly awed. “They’re the biggest deals, for mercs. Anyone who knows the stories…”
So they’re cool and have awesome stories that Tommy never heard? What the fuck?!
“Well, I fuckin’ don’t! That’s what I fuckin’ mean– nothing fuckin’ happens here! I haven’t heard jack about shit, man! I just–” Frustration well up, and he balls his hands into fists. “I’m so fuckin’ tried of rotting away here. It’s– they won’t let me do anything! I can’t…they won’t even teach me to fight for real. Or told me their pasts. If I can fuckin’-- just prove I can handle it, that they don’t have to be so fuckin’ scared I’ll get hurt…”
Horrifyingly, tears are starting to well up. He scrubs at them and mutters, “I just want to fuckin’ live. I want to help people, n’-- I need to help people!”
Dream reaches forward and cautiously pats his shoulder. “I mean…nobody needs your help. Isn’t it better to be safe–”
“No! Not for me, I can’t–” He glares at the dragon, wings flaring out to further convey his distress. “If I don’t use my fuckin’ powers, it hurts. This is– helping you, healing you? I haven’t felt this good in– maybe ever! The pressure is fuckin’ gone, and I can actually think. Trying to keep me safe by not letting me do anything literally fuckin’ causes me pain.”
He looks pleadingly at Dream, suspecting that he’s going to be the deciding factor here. “Please. They’ll be scared n’ worried, yeah, but you’re a fuckin’ dragon. I know how to handle myself n’ keep quiet, but I can also be useful. I’ll come back in a few months n’ show ‘em that I’m not the helpless kid they think of me as.”
Dream grimaces, but is clearly considering it. “I…don’t want to make enemies of the two of them.” “They’ll be mad, sure, but you already fuckin’ know my secret n’ will keep me safe. Besiiiiides…being my friend’ll help! ”
“Friends don't blackmail each other,” George tells him. Reasonably, he points out, “Well, we're not fuckin’ friends yet, so it doesn't count.”
“What kind of logic is that?!” Tommy rolls his eyes at Sapnap's disbelieving tone. “The logic where I'm fuckin’ desperate, duh?”
The dragon's eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t say no.
“Dream,” George says, tone full of disbelief, “You cannot seriously be planning on–”
There's a long, deep, tired sigh. Dream looks at Tommy and notes, not really even making it a question, “You'd just follow us if we left without you.” “Yup,” Tommy confirms, hope soaring in his chest.
“I'm going to regret this.” “We absolutely are not kidnapping–” “Not a fuckin’ kid, n’ it's my fuckin’ idea!” Rudely ignoring his protest, Sapnap continues, “--someone who might very well be the literal last phoenix in existence, from the protection of, again, literally the two most famous mercs still alive.”
Throwing his hands in the air, Dream snaps, “Look– either we piss them off by taking him with us, or potentially get on their eternal shitlist by him trying to follow us and dying. They're gonna be madder about the second one, and also, he did save my life.”
It takes immense willpower and also incredible maturity not to do a victory whoop and a few laps.
He's still grinning widely and bouncing in place a little, but Dream levels him with a long look. “But you’re gonna listen to us, especially around anyone else. I don’t care how stupid you think something is, you have to actually listen.”
Tommy’s enthusiasm dies just a bit. “Again, not a fuckin’ kid. I can handle myself n’ won't do something dumb.”
He lets his expression show how much he means it. “I can heal a lot've shit, as I just fuckin’ proved. Can't bring back the dead though. S’ why I followed Sapnap n’ George despite it being shady as fuck; trap or no, someone was hurt. Waiting would've gotten ‘em killed.”
Dream frowns. Slowly, he asks, “You thought it was a trap…and decided saving one person was worth it…?”
With a soft sigh, Tommy wraps his arms around his knees. “Staying here n’ hoping things might change is a fuckin’ death sentence. I've gone to another town once. Ever. N’ it was a long fuckin’ fight to be there for just two days. D'you know what it's like to be fuckin– caged, but without any bars? I barely even get to fly.”
Even though he was hoping to tug on Dream's heartstrings, it's George who talks next. “You'll have to pull your own weight, you know.”
He blinks at the guy, then makes a face and gestures emphatically at Dream.
George rolls his eyes. “I mean more than just that. Setting up camp, hunting, cooking, hauling your own gear–”
Oh. He perks up, because there's some resignation in George’s tone.
Resigned means he's giving up. Now, he's just trying to negotiate the way his loss will play out.
That means that he's basically won, right? Sapnap doesn't seem to have no power here, but he definitely doesn’t outrank Dream and George combined.
“Planned on it. I've camped plenty before– pretty fuckin’ much the only ‘trip’ I've been on ‘sidesthat one. Not far, n’ not for long, but I know what to fuckin’ do,” he says, his smile back in full force.
The blaze hybrid groans loudly. “This is so, so, so, so, so dumb.” “So's your fuckin’ face, but you don’t see me yapping about that,” Tommy retorts.
Sapnap glares at him. Tommy grins back. “Pretty fuckin’ sure you're outvoted.”
From the way that his glare gets more intense but he doesn’t argue, Tommy knows he's definitely won.
He gets to his feet and says, “I'm gonna go get some shit n’ leave a note. So they don't go on the fuckin’ warpath.”
Pure joy fills him as he takes the back way home. The last thing he needs is for someone to spot him and ask where he was and why he's covered in blood.
It only takes him three minutes to get home, fifteen to pack, and five to get back to the cave.
Honestly, a part of him is afraid that they'll be gone when he gets back. That they'll vanish just as quickly as they appeared, leaving him trapped here to die a death of the soul.
But, no; they’re right where he left them. Dream's clothes have changed but otherwise, everything is exactly as he left it.
His heart races with hope and excitement. His family will freak out, sure, but it’s their own damn fault for trying to clip his wings.
“That was fast,” George notes, cutting off whatever Sapnap was about to say. “Not like I have a lot've shit to fuckin’ grab,” Tommy scoffs.
They eye his single bag with clear doubt. He rolls his eyes and tells them, “Cold n’ heat doesn't affect me so I don't need a ton've clothes, I have a sleeping roll, we don't have oodles of fuckin’ preserved food n’ it's six fuckin’ months anyway. I have a dagger n’ my bow n’ arrows n’ a few personal things that I can't really leave behind.”
Just because he's mad at them doesn't mean that Tommy doesn't love his family and want momentos of them with him.
“I'm not gonna fuckin’ lug a tent around, either you lot have one or I'll deal with whatever you usually do. The fuck else could I need?”
“A med kit,” Dream answers. Tommy stares at him, then gestures to the floor– which is still sticky with blood. “Bitch, anything I can’t heal is fuckin’ fatal. Med kit isn't gonna fuckin’ do anything for the dead.”
The guy rolls his eyes. “For wounds, sure. But what if you have–” “I've spent six years ‘helping’ every fuckin’ stomach ache n’ skinned knee in the fuckin’ town. They think it's medicine, but it's just me. S’ as good as I've gotten for fuckin’ using my powers for my entire life. Took years for Phil to agree to do anything– to accept that I can't just not fuckin’ use my power.”
His wings tuck in close at the memory of how agonizing it had been to keep everything bottled up.
Now, though, his power feels so calm. The raging inferno has been tempered to a polite campfire.
It'll build back up again, sure, but he suspects he'll have plenty of chances to use it.
As Phil and Techno told him countless times– being a merc is dangerous. This group doesn't seem incompetent or anything, but clearly they can be bested.
Even if they don’t get nearly as hurt as Dream had been, Tommy is sure that there will be plenty of smaller things to heal.
It's inevitable for nicks and scrapes to build up. That happens even in Rutebegaville, so it'll be true on the road with the strange trio that have offered him an unlikely salvation.
Grinning, he says, “Let's fuckin’ go, yeah? Longer we wait, more likely the old man is to realize I'm gone. We should put as much fuckin’ distance between us n’ this place as possible.”
His heart soars as they realize the logic in that, and that he’s put thought into how this will work.
Tommy has a gut feeling that he’s going to get along great with this group.