Let me level with you man, as someone guilty of the game

5. Cats, vigilantes, and villains

Tommy was on house arrest. 

Honestly, Tommy thought, pacing the length of his room, he could’ve gotten off worse. There had been times when he had screwed up so bad that Dream hadn’t let him eat for a whole week. The only reason Tommy had survived those times was because Sapnap had snuck him granola bars and fruit through his door.

But Tommy had bigger things to worry about right now than the possibility of no food. Like, how was he supposed to patrol when he was basically stuck in his room? Hesitantly, Tommy walked over, trying his luck on the room’s door knob. It didn’t budge. He sighed, flopping back onto his bed. Apparently the only locks he was allowed to have were ones that locked from the outside. 

How was Tommy supposed to live laugh love in these conditions?

A mewl pulled Tommy out of his miserable thoughts and he turned, lifting his head up to see into the bathroom that was connected to his room. Luckily, Dream had been so furious with Tommy about sneaking out that he hadn’t even seemed to notice the little kitten clinging to Tommy’s sweater, meowing softly.

Tommy had decided to name her Clementine. Don’t ask him why, the name just fit.

“Hey Clem,” Tommy cooed softly, pushing himself up from his mattress and moving into the bathroom. He had made a temporary space for Clementine in his bathtub, old blankets thrown down to make it softer and a bowl of water set to one side if she got thirsty. 

Clementine meowed as Tommy sat down next to her, reaching out to stroke her head. She leaned into him, purring softly, and Tommy felt a smile pull at his lips. In spite of everything, at least he had Clem. 

“It’s just you and me against the world, Clem,” Tommy murmured softly, watching in amusement as the kitten leaned into his palm, beginning to snore softly. “Fine, I guess it’s just me against the world then.”

Sighing, Tommy set Clementine gently back into the tub, turning back to his room and beginning his pacing again. He was already starting to feel the restlessness crawling under his skin, making his fingers shake slightly and his thumbs tap against his thighs. His wings were out at least, which meant his shoulders weren’t aching anymore, but Tommy could practically feel the electricity moving under his skin, begging to be released. 

Turning towards his closet, Tommy made up his mind. It was go time.

He rummaged through his clothes, finally pulling out an old prototype training suit from before he had been allowed to actually patrol. It had slits in the back for his wings, but Tommy threw a red and white hoodie over it, covering them. His wings were retracted back into his shoulder blades, and Tommy fished some old knee pads out of the closet as well, just for good measure. He slipped on his same goggles, but he changed his mask to a plain black one, making sure he wasn’t recognizable.

Finally, Tommy turned back to his drawers, carefully pulling a shoe box out from the very back of his clothes. He flipped the lid open, looking over the pair of shoes inside with as much wonder as he had the first time they were given to him.

They had been a present from Sam, before the hero mechanic had disappeared. White sneakers white little red wings attached to the sides, wings that fluttered and shifted with a mind of their own. Tommy remembered what Sam had told him when he had first given the gift to him, all those years ago.

“They work just like your wings, except you can’t go quite as high,” he had said, handing over the box with a smile. “You’ll be able to boost yourself along, and you’ll have slow falling, but you can’t really fly with them.”

Tommy had only ever used the shoes once. Once Sam had disappeared, he couldn’t bring himself to put them on. Shaking his head, Tommy slowly pulled the shoes out of their box, sliding them on and flexing his feet.