a series of sbi oneshots

Truth or Dare

Tommy and Wilbur play truth or dare

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

It's a game, at this point. At least to Siren.

He’s the least physical of the Syndicate, he’s not a fighter, his power doesn’t really affect combat, so he tends to be put on Hostage Duty. Which is pretty much Tommy Duty.

Tommy isn’t a hero in and of himself, but he’s been Dream’s sidekick for nearly two years at this point. He was in training a year before that.

For all that Siren isn’t the best at combat, he’s still better than Tommy, which leads to a lot of these situations.

Tommy is cuffed to the railing of the walkway, Dream, the Angel, and the Blade are all down below, fighting over...Tommy doesn’t even know what it is this time. Siren is leaning on the railing, watching the fight.

“Did Dream change his costume?”

“He added some new armor,” Tommy says, picking at the lock of the cuffs. He has to get free, if Dream has to come rescue him again he’s going to be pissed. He’s already threatened to kick Tommy out if he isn’t more helpful in these fights.

But it's hard when every time he tries to help Dream, the Angel swoops down and dumps him on Siren.

Siren hums, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t like it.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that,” Tommy snorts, “I’m sure he’ll take your opinion into account.”

“It's messing with the aesthetic,” Siren says, “I have standards on who I fight.”

“You don’t even fight him,” Tommy snorts, “you get put on the sidelines.”

“I get put on babysitting duty,” Siren corrects him, “I could be down there fighting but the Angel doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

Tommy blinks. “You’re a fucking bitch,” he snorts.

“I have kicked Dream’s ass before,” Siren says.

“You have not. You probably can’t even throw a punch! You’ve got fucking noodle arms.”

“What, like yours?” Siren asks, his boot nudges Tommy’s hand away from the cuff, not anywhere near hard enough that Tommy would call it a kick. Not anywhere near as hard as Dream kicks Tommy.

Tommy slaps it away. “Don’t touch me with your gross warehouse shoes.”

“You’re literally sitting on the ground. Whatever is on my shoes is already on you.”

“Well whose fault is that?!”

“Yours.”

“You handcuffed me to the rail!” Tommy snaps, gesturing emphatically to the handcuffs and rail in question.

“Yeah? Maybe you should get good at fighting,” Siren says, “then that wouldn’t happen.”