🏳️‍⚧️ALeeAvianCrow🏳️‍⚧️

Tommy, not knowing any better, had lowered his head away from the man and nodded stiffly. “...Yes sir,” he muttered, his eyes stinging at being robbed of yet another thing that made him who he was, but he shoved down the need to cry. If he wanted to keep his coach, and stay on top of the figure skating competition, he had to make sacrifices, even if that meant stripping away parts of himself and throwing them into the flames for better publicity. He had to be good enough. He had to be perfect.

He had to be perfect. 

______________

Then he met the SMP hockey team. 

The hockey boys who were constantly messing around and teasing each other, lightheartedly rough-housing and laughing loudly. No one gave them odd looks for their wild giggling or impressive wheezes, often the people surrounding the team found the sounds contagious, Tommy included, though he barely let out anything other than a few huffs here and there. His proper laugh was locked away tight due to the constant reprimands and sneers of an old coach who hated every ‘imperfection’ he saw in Tommy. So, he stayed quiet, he stayed perfect. He owed the team that at least, after everything they’d done for him. 

But over time, he learned a new lesson. He learned he was allowed to just… be him. He didn’t have to force himself to be the sad, dead clone his coach would marionette with cruel hands. So, he let the inner side of himself show, snippet by snippet. He allowed the ‘unruly’, ‘ugly’ side of him to break through the mental barrier without the exhausting restrictions of a cruel man.

However, the very first time he burst into a fit of small giggles at a stupid joke Schlatt made, his mind hissed venomously of disgust and repulsion and it died in his throat as quick as it had appeared. While he didn’t really mind the other parts of himself, he hated his normal laugh now. He hated the off-putting sound his body so naturally made, despite his best efforts to change it to a more fitting variation. Whether that was due to his coach’s constant reprimands or his own brain’s contempt for it, Tommy couldn’t laugh like he used to without something acidic spiking through his body. 

Suddenly hit with the realisation he’d actually laughed normally in front of the hockey players, Tommy’s anxiety forced his eyes to nervously dart up to them, wary of the contempt and judging sneers undoubtedly sent his way. Instead of that however, he was met with the sight of the boys looking at him like he was something precious. He was swept into Wilbur’s arms not a second later, the man holding him in a bear hug murmuring softly, voice thick with something that couldn’t be described with anything but love. 

“Tommy, that was so sweet, oh my god- please let yourself laugh like that more, oh god I’m gonna lose my mind! That was so, so cute-”

Tommy had shoved his face into his hands to deal with the warmth in his cheeks and confused happiness fluttering in his chest, trying to ignore Wilbur's cooing behind him. But the compliments didn’t stop there. Every time he let out a giggle, snort or laugh less controlled than before, he was sent such an adoring look it made him flush and grin shyly. 

The boys found themselves trying to seek out the figure skater’s laugh whenever they could, hoping to make him more comfortable with the sound so he would stop trying to stifle it. And when Tommy’s coach was out of the way permanently, they upped their efforts of getting the kid to laugh. That mission was how Tommy found himself in the middle of a common trend his friends had started. 

They’d gathered in the SMP’s room, re-watching tapes on the TV, pointing out certain things and making bits out of it, the jokes getting dumber and less understandable by the second, but it always made them crack up in one way or another. Schlatt had the unfortunate experience of snorting his drink and spent the next two minutes coughing and spluttering while the rest of the team howled at his misery. Techno gave him a solid thump on the back to help clear his airway, though even he was chuckling. 

Tommy was nestled in Sapnap’s arms, similar to how a bear would cradle their cub, his shoulders bouncing with his small giggles he hadn’t let become verbal yet. Sapnap smiled fondly at the sight, though a tinge of disappointment tugged at his heart every time Tommy’s lips stayed firmly shut. He knew how sweet the laughter sounded, he just wished Tommy knew it too. 

He leaned down a bit so Tommy could hear him over the cackling of the others. “Five bucks says Schlatt does the exact same thing in ten minutes.”

Tommy jumped a little at how close Sapnap’s voice was to his ear, flicking his eyes to the man and gave an amused smile. “Ten bucks says he does it in less.”

“You’re on.” Sapnap snorted, gently squeezing the boy’s sides. Tommy instantly flinched with a small squeak, leaning back into Sapnap’s chest like it was instinctive with his smile growing larger. The response lifted Sapnap’s eyebrows quickly, interest lighting up, though Tommy didn’t see it. He was too caught up in registering the sensation, the small tingles in his nerves both oddly unfamiliar and foreign at the same time. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt something akin to it. 

Sapnap couldn't help himself. He did it again, just as gentle as the first time, fully grinning when Tommy burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles immediately, quiet enough to not draw attention but oh, so pure. His fingers massaged into the soft skin, just enough to tickle but not be overwhelming. 

Tommy's hands flitted instinctively towards his mouth to silence himself, then back down to the fingers wiggling into his sides. Honestly, Tommy could escape easily, yet he stayed in place, weight leaned into Sapnap. He wasn't used to this kind of affection, but he couldn't deny he was having fun. And as much as he hated his laugh and exposing the hideousness of it to his friends, he selfishly didn't want to stop. The soft touch was drawing honey rich giggles from within his chest, a sound unheard from him in a long, long time.   

Though his small gasps of gentle laughter remained out of the others' ears - all too focused on Schlatt who was yelling about "war on liquids" or something - Sapnap listened lovingly, adoring the uncommon sound. 

Upon slowly poking along Tommy’s sides and up to his ribs however, the boy was fast to clamp his hands firmly over his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to bear the soft tingling which had increased tenfold. 

"Something funny?" Sapnap raised a brow teasingly, trying not to feel too sad about the fact that Tommy had been so fast to silence his real laughter. 

Tommy couldn't reply with how rapidly his bubbly giggles were spilling from his mouth, heavily muffled by his hands but Sapnap could still hear it. With practice from past tickle fights of the SMP, Sapnap scratched along Tommy’s lower ribs, careful not to dig in too roughly and hurt the boy. Judging by the small buck and rapids squeaks of laughter Tommy let out, it was definitely a good spot. 

"So sweet," Sapnap cooed warmly, endeared to no end by the teenager. "sweet giggly, firefly."

The flush in Tommy's cheeks increased tenfold. It wasn't sweet. It was ugly and wrong, he shouldn't be laughing like this, it wasn't-

Tommy suddenly squealed when Sapnap’s fingers started to scratch gently along his ribs through the hoodie, the feeling of the material tickling even more. "S-Sahapnap-" he gasped, breathlessly giggling. 

At the small plea of his name, Sapnap let up instantly, returning to simply hugging the boy and dropping his chin into the messy curls. He felt Tommy lean into him, breathing a tad heavier after his giggle fit. 

"Sorry buddy, I couldn't pass up the opportunity," he chuckled good-naturedly, hoping he hadn't actually overstepped anything. Tommy’s hands slowly slipped down from his mouth now that the laughter was disappearing from his breath. Despite how sudden and out of pocket the playful barrage was, Tommy found it wasn’t unpleasant. 

"It's alright. I… I didn't really mind.” Tommy's small, mirthful admittance caused Sapnap's heart to clench in love instantly. How could one kid make him so soft? 

'Didn't really mind' stuck out to the raven haired man, a smile spreading across his face at the implications. 

“Sooo,” he murmured, watching as Schlatt put Quackity in a chokehold and Techno tried to stop Wilbur from doing the same to Schlatt. "Did you want me to continue?"

Tommy hesitated, his start to re-adjust himself put on immediate halt at the question. He didn't really expect Sapnap to want to continue, he'd surely laughed enough to make the man uncomfortable. But then and again, if he was offering…?

No one wants to hear that. You understand, Snowflake? 

Tommy's hands squeezed the material of his pants. His voice was weak in his throat as he tried to figure out a reply. "...I…um…"

Sapnap's hand found his shoulder, thumb brushing gently against it and sending a comforting warmth through Tommy. "If you like it, I don't mind, bud," he smiled gently. "It's pretty cute, and seeing you smile is always gonna be a good thing.”

Tommy couldn’t hide the pinkness in his face if he wanted to, his ears burning a sweet strawberry red. “...Oh,” he murmured quietly, lost in thought. After a moment of consideration, Tommy leant back into Sapnap, tucking his arms over himself. “Okay,” he mumbled, trying not to look as flustered as he felt when he heard Sapnap coo above him.

Throughout the evening, Sapnap wiggled his fingers into Tommy’s sides when everyone else was distracted or when the kid was getting playfully snarky, the response of small muffled giggles and half hearted squirming made the man melt every single time. The kid was too cute. If the Olympics had a competition for the most adorable person in existence, Tommy would win gold every time, Sapnap believed that wholeheartedly. 

______________

“You are messing with me- no way- Techno would never-”

“Oh you’d be surprised, pequeña estrella,” Quackity chuckled, his hand squeezing Tommy’s, the boy able to feel the warmth of Quackity’s palm through the gloves. “That man may carry himself with the air of some rich fucker, but he’s an absolute dork.”

“But- but he wouldn’t just lick a frozen lamp post or something-”

“Oh no, that was Wilbur who did that one. Techno tried to drink from a fountain and got his tongue stuck to the metal when he went too close. He’s never touched one since, outright refuses cause we have so many photos of him being stuck to a goddamn public drinking fountain.”

Tommy giggled, high and mirthful, his free gloved hand coming up instinctively to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, that’s- what the fuck-”

Quackity's smile dampened a little now that the treasurable sound was swathed by the glove, but he didn’t let it show, instead squeezing Tommy’s hand again and tugging him along faster back towards the buildings. They’d been walking through the snow for a good while, and Quackity couldn’t even feel his toes anymore.

“Come on, let’s go grab some hot chocolate kid, this cold is gonna kill me if we stay out any longer.”

Tommy nodded eagerly, his love for hot chocolate fuelled endlessly with how often the SMP players drank it. They quickly slipped through the doors of the dining hall, shaking off snow from their boots and plucking the gloves from their hands when the warm air of the room hit them full force. Though, that didn’t stop Quackity from taking up Tommy’s hand again, interlocking their fingers with ease. Tommy hid a soft smile, appreciating the gentle contact leagues more than the dark haired man could ever understand.

Quackity easily took the role of getting the drinks, letting Tommy quietly stand at his side and enjoy the hand holding. At some point, Quackity’s thumb slipped from holding Tommy’s to gently trace his palm, something he usually did with the other members of his team; it was basically a subconscious action. The repetitive, soft brushing over his skin made the nerves in Tommy's hand tingle, the feeling crawling around his palm like a little spider. The longer it dragged on, Tommy had to control himself not to squirm away from the affection, stuffing his other hand in his pocket and focusing on the floor, his smile stretching across his face and eyebrows drawing together.

It reminded him of what his mother used to do when he hurt his hands falling so many times on the ice. She’d gently brush over the sore spots and draw a smile out of him every time, quietly praising him for his progress and promising he’d get the hang of it someday. It was almost painfully nostalgic, yet Tommy found himself appreciating the feeling from Quackity. He missed the comforting feeling of his hands being tended to so carefully, even if it was at the expense of fighting not to laugh.

As Quackity finished up the drinks, he flicked his gaze to Tommy as he'd gone strangely quiet for quite a while. Seeing the boy’s gaze firmly on the ground sent a spike of worry rocketing through his gut and his brain was quickly swamped with fear. Was something wrong? Was he zoning out? Was he dissociating right now?! Had Quackity missed something-?

The rapid train of anxious suggestions came to an abrupt halt when Quackity caught sight of the wobbly grin the kid was trying to hide. He then noticed Tommy's fingers were slightly tighter in their grip around his own, and a soft pink tinged the boy's ears. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. Quackity had to physically stop himself from squealing loudly in the middle of the dining hall. He didn’t want to accidentally kill Tommy in embarrassment, but come on, having ticklish hands?! That was definitely squeal worthy. 

But Quackity, being the nice and generous person he is, decided to leave the murder for another day. He didn't think the others would appreciate the unfortunate death of their favourite blonde figure skater. 

Hot chocolates done, he brushed his thumb over the beginning edges of Tommy's fingers to get his attention. "Want to go sit down, bud?" He asked. 

Tommy nodded a few moments after the question, distracted with the soft ticklish touch buzzing through his palm. "S-Suhure.”

A giggle slipped out much to Quackity's delight, and he passed Tommy his hot chocolate, effectively keeping the boy from being able to muffle the sound further as both his hands were currently occupied. With that, he gently tugged the boy along to a free table, his thumb still tracing Tommy's palm lines to hear the small slips of laughter. He stored the precious little nugget of information away, internally fawning over such a cute quirk for the figure skater.

______________

George had usually been the one who guarded Tommy when he needed to nap. When he desperately had to escape from his coach and breathe, if only for a little bit. So it stood to reason that George felt the need to do the same thing now, even with Tommy's dickhead of a coach now gone for good. Tommy's naps weren't as frequent as they used to be, the teams' (almost overbearing) love and care making sure Tommy was well looked after. Tommy would be lying if he said he hated it, the love and worry the ice hockey players had for him was everything he'd wanted. 

Now, he was lying on George's bed, dozing after a fairly intense training session on the ice. He'd been wanting to master a new jump, it was a tricky manoeuvre but he knew how to do the baseline of it now. It would just take a week or two to get the hang of it, and a little longer to do flawlessly. If his coach had been teaching him it, he would've been forced to practice it until he physically couldn't stand, the jump being mastered within seven days. 

But thankfully, Tommy wasn't concerned about learning it fast. It was just for fun, and he knew there was no way the SMP boys would even let him on the ice again today, unless it was for another match of hockey with them. 

Tommy shifted under his blanket and released a small sigh, his limbs weighed down with a pleasant tiredness, though sleep refused to come to him. George, who had been idly scrolling through his phone, immediately looked to Tommy. 

"You alright?"

The blonde cracked an eye open to look at the man, feeling something warm curl in his heart at the concern peeking through George's brown gaze. 

"Yeah," he answered after a moment. "Can't sleep is all." 

George hummed, shutting off his phone and setting it down beside him. Then he asked, "Anything I can do to help?" 

Tommy simply shrugged, not really sure there was anything George could do. This kind of thing happened sometimes, where he was tired enough for rest but there was just something holding him back, a need to keep moving, never stopping, never resting, always training, always on the ice, always perfect-

A gentle hand then brushed along his back, shutting off Tommy's brain in a split second. He didn't move, one eye open and staring at George's leg as he registered the contact. 

Taking the silence as a good thing, George's palm brushed up his spine then slowly rubbed to his lower back. The pattern was slow and steady, a sort of massage that eased the tension from Tommy's muscles that he didn't even know was there. He melted into the softness of the blankets, eyelids fluttering and slipped closed. He let out a pleased hum, eyes sliding shut once more and a small smile lifting his lips. 

“T‘s nice,” he mumbled into the bedclothes, barely intelligible with how slurred it was. George gave a gentle huff of laughter, amusement crinkling his eyes as he continued to rub Tommy’s back, removing years of tension and anxiety from his thin frame. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

Tommy nuzzled his pillow with a dragged out hum. “Good idea…big brain,” he muttered, “like a dolphin.”

There was a small huff. “I don’t think I’m a dolphin, Tommy, I'm more like a shark."

A soft noise of agreement drew out from Tommy. “Sharks are cool… Big brain shark.”

George rolled his eyes at how out of it Tommy was becoming, sleep cradling his tired body and gently pulling him down. George eased his palm from the boy’s back to replace it with his fingers, tracing the curve of his spine and around his shoulders in a slow, steady rhythm. Wilbur sometimes did this when George struggled to sleep, the gentle ministrations lulling him to rest far faster than nyquil ever did. Though, instead of settling further, Tommy’s shoulders rose a bit, a small mumble leaving him as he buried his face into the pillows. 

George blinked at the odd response, shifting his hand further down to draw figure eights on Tommy’s lower back. “Is this okay?” he asked softly.

The blonde figure skater gave a small nod, keeping his face turned into the pillows, hiding a smile into the soft material and trying not to let out the giggles building in his chest. Though, George had a fond look on his face as he’d seen the expression, taken in the reactions, and put the pieces together.

It was quite sweet really, and Tommy wasn’t complaining about the sensations, so George kept lightly dragging his nails along the boy’s back and shoulders, noting when the boy would squirm slightly and a small peep would leave him. In a rare moment of mischief, George focused his attention on Tommy's shoulder blades, the boy finally breaking into a small fit of squeaky giggles. Almost immediately after, his hand came up to muffle the sound, a slight flush heating up his ears at how quickly his resolve broke. George however, only gave a pleased hum at the noises.

“There it is,” he said softly, giving Tommy’s shoulders a small, quick scratch before returning to the middle of his back, “thank you.”

…Thank you?

Tommy would’ve tried to figure out what on earth that meant, but his brain had essentially been turned to mush with the shapes and lines being gently traced into the curve of his spine. The soft, ticklish sensations swirling over his back caused small giggles to tumble free, despite the palm firmly planted on mouth. Tommy couldn’t hold back the noises if he wanted to, the dam broken much to his dismay.

Though it was odd, George continued to move his fingers along his spine to draw out the little mirthful noises, even with how hideous they were. Tommy didn’t understand why George would keep at the gentle touch if all it would gain was his obnoxious laughter. 

A finger then scratched gently at the back of Tommy’s ribs, tingles shooting through his nervous system and causing his whole body to curl in on itself and a squeak slipping out. George, unbeknownst to Tommy, fondly smiled at the reaction. He spoke softly, just loud enough to hear over Tommy’s tumbling giggles. “You don’t have to force yourself to be quiet, Tommy, really you don’t. It’s just us.”

The rib tickling shifted back into soft tracing along Tommy’s lower back and up his spine, easing the growing tingles back to something more relaxing. Tommy’s body uncurled and melted back into the mattress at the soothing motions, his hand still feebly trying to muffle the quiet giggling. He didn’t want to expose the sound more than he already had. George shouldn’t feel forced to hear it- 

It’s just us.

Just them. 

It was just him and George. Gentle, careful, loving George. He’d never hurt Tommy before, never judged, he’d always been there as a comforting presence. 

Tommy’s fingers gripped at his jaw a touch tighter. Maybe…maybe it was okay? At least for a little bit?

With slow, cautious movements, Tommy’s palm hesitantly slid away from his mouth, curling into a fist just over his lips and resting on the pillow under his head. It was ready to go right back over his mouth the second George got tired of his ugly noises. However, there was a small, pleased noise from the brunette behind him. It made his anxiety settle a bit, knowing he’d made the man happier with his choice. Tommy let himself relax into the bed, his hand losing tension so it was barely curled beside him. It wasn’t long before the gentle motions on his back lulled him into a sleepy state once more.

The small giggles began to ease from his breath, leaving him feeling lighter than ever. His eyes slid closed without him really realising as his exhausted body finally gave in to its weariness.

George smiled down at the boy and tucked the precious memory into the corner of his mind. Quietly, he turned his phone back on, continuing to scroll as his nails idly drifted across Tommy’s back, the boy having slipped into a blissful sleep, a smile still lifting his lips. 

______________

One of the perks of adopting a teenage figure skater into a clan of dumbass hockey players was that it came with teasing privileges. Seeing the boy as a little brother, everyone got their fair share of light-hearted fun, Tommy enjoying the banter and countering it with his own most of the time. 

There were times however, when he was faced with such an odd subject of teasing he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it. Schlatt, for instance, had locked onto the fact that Tommy was practically a bean pole, and with that, he’d started making claims that Tommy could easily be carted around.

Tommy rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, giving the man before him a light-hearted glare. “I’m not that light, Schlatt-”

“You are. I bet that I could pick you up and carry you around easily for hours,” Schlatt countered, a shit eating grin on his face as he stood in front of the boy, arms crossed and eyebrow quirked challengingly. 

“No you- you literally couldn’t. You struggle to lift yourself out of bed in the morning, what makes you think you could lift me?”

A bark of laughter from across the room made Schlatt send a middle finger towards the culprit, the culprit being Quackity who was curled up on a chair on his phone. The mutton-chopped chaos bringer smirked at Tommy, his eyes narrowed playfully.

“Right, you wanna bet man?” He asked. 

The question made something uncomfortable roll in the boy's gut. “...Bet what?” Tommy looked a bit unsure as he spoke, his mind flashing to notes and misunderstandings.

Schlatt gave a one shouldered shrug with a flap of his hand. “If I can pick you up and carry you around, then you just gotta let it happen. But if I can’t, then I’ll do whatever you want for an hour.”

Quackity cackled again from his little throne, gleaming eyes watching the scene unfold before him. “Go on Tommy,” he encouraged. “When he fails, you can ask him to do a little jig and he’ll have to! Think of the blackmail opportunities!”

Tommy’s skin prickled anxiously at the thought of blackmail, but a warm hand on his shoulder turned his gaze back to Schlatt who was looking at him gently. 

“We don’t have to bet or anything if you don’t want to bud,” he promised, “it’s all just in fun. Honest.”

Tommy blinked at him, not really expecting it to be that simple. Schlatt was a man of inhumane determination and explosive opinions, and yet he was ready to drop the challenge? Just like that? Why would-?

Because it’s you. 

His mind offered the idea like it was something delicate and Tommy, gently, hesitantly, let himself hold onto it for a moment. Because it’s him. Schlatt’s willing to back out because it’s Tommy, no strings attached, no catches at all. The thought shouldn’t make his heart as warm as it did, but the little bubbles of happiness in his stomach was evidence enough. 

“Okay.” He found himself saying. “If you’re able to carry me around for more than five minutes, then sure, bets on.”

Schlatt was grinning once more. “Excellent.”

Before Tommy could even prepare himself, Schlatt had ducked down and ducked his shoulder into the kid’s waist, scooping his weight up and sending Tommy sprawling over his back.

“Fucken hell!” Tommy yelped, scrambling to cling onto something, settling on taking bunches of Schlatt’s hockey jumper in his hands. 

Schlatt, now standing upright, laughed loudly as he held onto the boy securely, grinning even though Tommy couldn’t see it. “There! What’d I tell ya? Easy.”

Tommy grunted, elbowing Schlatt’s spine a bit as he sat up the best he could. “Still have to keep this up for five minutes, Schlatt.”

“Oh please, I once did this to Soot for half an hour.”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up and he smacked a hand into Schlatt’s back in indignation without much thought. “You- you dickhead! You conned me!”

The hockey player cackled, spinning on the spot gently. “Of course I did! Big Q, you getting photos of this?”

“I’ve been filming this whole time man.”

Tommy made an affronted noise, sending the man a faux offended look. “Quackity you were in on this?!”

There was another laugh from the beanie wearing devil. “Sorry dude, it’s kinda funny seeing you getting hauled around like a sack of potatoes.”

Exasperated and defeated, Tommy groaned, slumping into Schlatt fully and letting himself hang over his shoulder, grumbling incoherently about betrayal and treachery.

“Aw c’mon, lighten up bud, it could be worse,” Schlatt snickered, squeezing the boy’s knee gently. 

The limb spasmed wildly, a strangled noise leaving Tommy as he kicked his leg out on reflex. Schlatt’s eyebrows shot up at the sudden reaction, then, with a look akin to a cat hunting a mouse, he grinned. 

“Oh, what do we have here, hmm?” He purred. 

Never one to pass up an opportunity, Schlatt immediately latched back onto Tommy’s leg and squeezed up and down the muscle. Tommy practically shrieked, wriggling in Schlatt’s hold as he broke into snorts, surprising both Schlatt and Quackity at how whole it sounded.

Tommy was so caught off guard about the sudden attack he forgot to muffle the ugly sounds spilling from him, though to everyone else in the room, it was the sweetest thing in the world. “Schlahahatt!” Tommy gasped out, gripping the back of the man’s jersey and hanging on, eyes scrunched with how wide his smile was. 

Schlatt chuckled when Tommy squealed adorably upon his fingers scratching gently on the underside of his knees. “Yeah? What’s up, Tommy?” he goaded playfully, “I must say, you’re getting awfully squirmy up there, is something the matter?”

Through tumbling cackles, Tommy tried to formulate a coherent response to reply. “Ihihihihit’s- Ihihihi’m- S-Schlahahatt, ohoho gohohod-!” Though he was trying, Tommy could barely get a sentence out, laughing his heart out as ticklish sparks zapped through his legs like lightning. 

The man chuckled at Tommy’s half baked words, scuttling his nails along the sensitive sides of his thighs. “Good try buddy, almost gave me an answer,” he jokingly praised, “you’ll get there eventually, I believe.” 

Schlatt spun gently on the spot, causing Tommy’s mirthful giggles to pick up with the movement, the high pitched titters causing the softest grin imaginable to spread across Schlatt’s face. He adored hearing the boy laugh - not that pathetic fake thing his coach forced onto him - no, absolutely not. He meant the bright, wonderful laugh Tommy had kept locked away inside him. Every time it sneaked out, the entire hockey team would be a melted puddle of adoration and love, and Tommy didn’t even believe it. 

But, the SMP had made it their goal long ago to help Tommy regain his footing in his life, secure in himself and everything he did. 

Catching Tommy’s wheeze of laughter, Schlatt gave his knee a final tweak before patting the limb, not wanting to overwhelm the poor boy. “Alright, alright, I’m done. Promise.”

An elbow dug into Schlatt’s ribs from behind, making him choke a bit on air. Tommy sat up the best he could from his position, and looked over his shoulder with a glare that didn’t even hold any heat. “You are such a dick,” he exhaled a laugh, grinning despite the ‘mock annoyance’ he was trying to put on.

Schlatt didn’t reply. He was too caught off guard from what met his gaze. Tommy’s cheeks were flushed pink, just like they were when his routines got intense on the ice, a wide smile lifting his cheeks in a way that made his eyes squint. It made something warm and golden pool into Schlatt’s heart, something unfamiliar yet becoming common around the blonde teen. Ew, feelings. He couldn’t tell anyone that lest he be called ‘soft’. 

Tommy blinked at the man when he didn’t respond, his smile slipping back to something smaller and unfortunately more regular for him. It made the warmth in Schlatt’s heart flicker and constrict. Tommy cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, looking abashed by the sudden silence after his laughter had filled the room for so long. “S-So what now? You’re just gonna carry me for an hour?” He asked, not sounding too sure whether he should be joking or not, ears burning in self-conscious embarrassment.

Schlatt blinked off his shock faster than Quackity - (who was still processing how happy Tommy had looked) - instead slipping on an easy grin in hopes of soothing the boy. He dipped his shoulder down suddenly, making Tommy yelp loudly and cling tighter to his jersey, a breathless giggle managing to find its way out of him. Schlatt straightened not a moment later with a shrug, gently jostling the boy who had laughter at the edge of his voice once more from the unpredictable movements. Schlatt would die before he admitted that the sound made him relax practically instantly.

He shrugged again just to be more annoying, Tommy moving with the motion as he spoke arily. “I was thinking of two hours actually. I’ve been meaning to break my record of carrying Quackity for one and a half.”

Tommy froze in disbelief, hands going slack in being balled in his jumper. “You carried Quackity for-?”

An outraged squawk sounded out from across the room. Ah, it seemed Quackity had snapped out of his stupor at last. “Schlatt shut the fuck up! You told me you’d never tell anyone about that!” 

Tommy felt the chuckle reverberating through Schlatt as he laughed heartily. “Not gonna lie dude, most people I know are aware of that story.”

There was another yell, this one bordering on despair. “Oh, you absolute motherfucker!”

______________

Soft footsteps echoed down the halls, weighed down slightly and accompanied by the soft clink of skates tapping together. 

“I told you to get off the ice sooner love,” Wilbur murmured softly, gentle hands supporting a certain tired blonde who was curled on his back. He felt the boy wince sharply at his words. 

“I know. I’m sor-”

“No, don’t apologise.” Wilbur immediately interrupted, tramping up the stairs to his room. “I know it's a habit for you, we’ll break it though. You can’t be blamed for what that dickhead put in your brain.”

Tommy didn’t answer, instead pushing his cold nose into the back of Wilbur’s shoulder, trying not to cry. Though the tears weren't due to the pain twinging in his ankles.

He’d been skating for hours, not keeping track of time and subconsciously shoving down his body's' protests for rest. Shocking how quickly old behaviour came sneaking back when he’d thought he’d gotten better. Wilbur had found him - apparently the entire team was out searching when he didn’t turn up for dinner - and immediately got him off the rink. Due to how long he was skating, his feet hurt and his body was weighed down with tiredness. Hence Wilbur piggy-backing Tommy back to the rooms. Tommy had tried to protest that he could walk himself, but Wilbur refused to let him, getting the boy to clamber onto his back. 

“I’d feel better knowing you weren’t in pain,” he admitted softly, taking Tommy’s skates from him and cradling his face. “It hurts me to see you like this, sunshine.”

So, Tommy had listened. And internally, he was quite grateful he had. His feet, despite not having weight on them anymore, ached horribly. Walking would’ve been a fucking nightmare. The gentle clinking of his skates in Wilbur’s hand, accompanied by the steady thuds of his footfalls was a steady rhythm that had Tommy’s eyes fluttering, leaning his head fully into Wilbur’s thick coat as drowsiness circled him like a buzzard.

“Darling, hey.” He was gently jostled, making him start with a weary noise. Wilbur’s apologetic look met his eyes. “I know you want to sleep, bubs, but we gotta get you some painkillers and some water first. I know how much you’d hate to wake up in the morning and feel like your feet are broken, right?”

It was a good point to be fair. Didn’t mean Tommy was happy about it though.

Wilbur laughed softly when Tommy made his opinions abundantly clear as he thumped his head back onto Wilbur’s shoulder, a deep groan drawing from his throat.

“I know, I know. The hassle of being looked after is dreadful,” Wilbur teased lightly, knocking his head gently into Tommy’s affectionately. “Only a few minutes of me fussing, Tommy, then you can sleep.”

“...Fine,” Tommy muttered, and in his heart, he felt the tingly feeling of warmth and love flood him. 

It took a minute for Wilbur to figure out how to open the door with Tommy clinging to his back like a little monkey, eventually getting Tommy to twist the handle as he shouldered the door. Kicking it shut behind him, Wilbur moved over to the bed and gently deposited the kid onto the sheets. 

“Right, I’m gonna check my bag for some painkillers, stay here and don’t fall asleep okay? You need to drink something first.” Wilbur ran a hand through Tommy’s hair before he stepped away into the bathroom, on a mission to find something to help relieve the aches plaguing Tommy. 

The boy gave a sleepy hum a few seconds delayed of Wilbur’s instructions, glazed eyes keeping track of the duvet in case it went sentient and slithered away. Duvets could do that right? Yeah. Yeah, that sounded realistic. 

Tommy giggled quietly to himself, almost deliriously, and scrubbed at his eyes, trying not to keel over into the possibly-sentient duvet and fall asleep right then and there. Where was Wilbur?

“..ommy? Hey, you okay?”

Ah, there he was.

“Hmm?” Tommy lifted his head slowly, a lopsided smile on his face at the sight of Wilbur looking down at him.

“You were just laughing randomly, I asked if you were okay.” Wilbur seemed more amused than worried, sitting down on the bed beside the boy, glass of water in one hand and two painkillers in the other. 

Tommy gave a small nod, picking up the tablets from the man’s open hand as he spoke softly, but seriously. “The duvet could be sentient.”

Wilbur stared as Tommy took the water from his hand and sipped at it, tossing the medicine into his mouth afterwards, blissfully unaware of the absolute bombshell of a mind fuck-up he’d given the brunette next to him. 

“...Right,” Wilbur eventually muttered, a borderline exasperated laugh leaving his mouth. “We are never letting you overwork yourself ever again, you’re going to turn into a cryptid theorist.”

Tommy cocked his head to the side, similar to a confused puppy. “What’s a cryptid theorist?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The blonde continued to drink his water quietly, gaze eventually shifting from the duvet to Wilbur as the man had slipped something out of his pocket and was unscrewing the lid. “What’s that?” He asked.

“Ointment. It’ll help with the muscle pain in your ankles. We use it sometimes after an intense game or when training takes a toll.” Wilbur popped the cap off and placed it to the side, patting his lap. “Hand em over.”

Tommy blinked, sleepy and clueless and overall just a sweet mess. “...Huh?” He mumbled. Wilbur just patted his leg twice and gave Tommy a fond look at his state. 

“Your feet, c’mon Toms, I don’t bite.”

“Yes you do. You literally bit Schlatt the other day.” Despite his argument, Tommy swung his feet into Wilbur’s expectant lap, though it was with as much grace as a drunk swan.

“He tried to steal my pancakes, I think it was justified,” Wilbur defended with a chuckle, slipping off Tommy’s thick socks and placing them on the bed. “This is gonna be cold, sorry bud.”

“‘t’s fine,” Tommy mumbled, taking the last sip of his water and putting it on the bedside table, nestling back into the pillows and trusting Wilbur entirely. 

Wilbur dabbed some of the ointment onto his fingertips and placed them on Tommy’s ankle, feeling the boy’s entire body shudder at the coolness of the cream. “Sorry, I did warn you,” he chuckled, gently rubbing the stuff into Tommy’s aching muscles. 

Tommy practically went boneless, slumping into the pillows and giving a satisfied hum. Wilbur had to hold back a proper laugh at that, pressing more pressure into the muscles. “Jesus, you’re tense, have you never had a foot massage before?”

“Sounds fucken weird, why would I need to? I stretch, don't I?”

“So do we, but we sometimes have days where we need to take extra care of ourselves.”

Tommy smiled to himself in thought. “Quackity told me how Sapnap and him have spa days.”

Wilbur really did laugh at that one. ”Yeah, I’ll never forget the time they got me to go to one, I was so uptight the entire time.”

Tommy raised a brow lazily, eyes fluttering. “Why? This feels nice?”

The brunette gave a small huff, sending the boy a bit of an embarrassed smile. “Cause I’ve got ticklish feet mate, I had to fight for my life not to kick the person giving the massage.”

Tommy couldn’t help but snicker a bit, imagining the predicament. “Sounds kinda funny. I hope they recorded it.”

“Oi,” Wilbur warned playfully, “I have the video of Schlatt carrying you around, don’t make me start making fun of you for that.” 

Tommy held his hands up in surrender, grinning tiredly at the brunette who rolled his eyes and continued back to his work. The atmosphere was one of peace, Wilbur making sure all tension was out of Tommy’s battered ankles, and the boy thoroughly enjoying the gentle treatment. God, he wished he’d known about this kind of thing sooner. Anytime he’d overworked himself and ended up with stiff muscles or cramping joints, his coach had begrudgingly given him a day to recover, or blatantly told him to “not fuck up our chances of winning”. It seemed ridiculous thinking back on it now, as his coach was the sole reason for his condition getting worse, yet Tommy was blamed for his own injuries.

Tommy’s bitter thoughts suddenly screeched to a halt when he felt Wilbur’s cold fingers start to gently rub into the soles and tops of his feet, 

Wilbur flicked his eyes back when he felt Tommy lock up, and had to bite his lip to avoid fawning over what he saw. Tommy had his hands pressed tightly over his mouth, his whole body quivering as he fought for his life to keep his laughter in. The redness in his ears and cheeks were undeniably adorable, as was the slight scrunch to his nose that matched his eyes which were squeezed tight.

“You’re allowed to laugh, you know,” Wilbur reminded gently, turning away from Tommy as he cracked an eye open at his voice. “I did when this happened to me. Nothing wrong with having a giggle, sunshine.”

The nickname made Tommy soften and simultaneously more embarrassed, hands only clamping tighter over his lips to restrain the bubbly titters. He’d been letting the uglier side of him out more - too much more - he had snorted in front of Quackity and Schlatt for crying out loud. His coach’s honey-doused words circled his brain. No one wants to hear that. You’re better quie-

Wilbur scratched gently underneath Tommy’s toes, and his mind shut off, a squeal leaping out of him and very quickly followed by high pitched giggles. He tried to pull his feet away instinctively, but Wilbur simply tightened his hold marginally. 

Wilbur tutted with a flex of his brow. “Ah ah, I’m not done yet,” he reprimanded lightly, putting more pressure on Tommy’s soles again to massage as he rubbed the ointment into the skin. “Stay there darling, just a little longer.”

Tommy, now that his dam had burst, couldn’t contain his giggling, shifting his hands from covering his mouth to clapping entirely over his warm face, shoulders drawing up to his ears as he laughed squeakily.

Wilbur chuckled softly at the endearing sounds. “I’m not even trying to tickle you right now, are you really this sensitive?”

“Lihike yohou hahave rohoom toho tahalk,” Tommy pressed out, shifting around in his nest of pillows in a weak attempt to bear the tickly movement brushing along his feet. 

The hockey player snorted. “Touché. Also, uncover your face would you? I can’t see you smile or hear your laugh when you do that.” 

Tommy’s ears flushed brighter, and he shook his head. He had already laughed too genuinely for his liking, the sound was so loud and wrong, he wasn’t meant to-

“Come on darling, I want to hear your giggles,” Wilbur coaxed, lightening his touch to gentle tracing along the sides of Tommy’s soles, smiling when Tommy shrunk in on himself with another squeal. His hands slipped down enough to show his eyes, and Wilbur cooed lovingly. Tommy’s eyes were squinted with his smile, alight with an endearing spark Wilbur had only seen when Tommy was really happy. 

“Awwww, there’s my sunspot,” Wilbur murmured, returning to massaging Tommy’s feet, though he wasn’t adding as much pressure as he was before. It wasn’t his fault Tommy was this adorable, okay? Sue him for wanting to ease some laughter out of the teenager. 

Tommy’s heart was warm with Wilbur’s affectionate tone, and despite his mind yelling at him not to, he slowly slid his hands from his mouth to interlock his fingers in front of his chin, his giggles now crystal clear. The soft, approving coo from Wilbur was worth the warmth in his face.

“There we go. Well done, Toms, I’m so proud of you.” He smiled so genuinely Tommy couldn’t help the small flicker in him that believed it. 

Due to how exhausted Tommy was, Wilbur didn’t purposefully tickle him for long, going back to the original task of massaging the tension out. It didn’t stop Tommy from giggling though. 

When Wilbur eventually finished the massage, he slipped Tommy’s socks back on and flicked his eyes up to the boy. He slapped the back of his hand to his mouth and bit down on the skin to avoid cooing obnoxiously loudly. Tommy was nestled snug in the pillows, head turned to the side and half buried amongst the plush material. His cheeks were tinged a light pink and his smile was still there, hands holding his arms in his sleep. 

Wilbur counted to ten to compose himself, having to stifle the little happy noises weaselling out of him at how peaceful Tommy looked. Gently manoeuvring the boy’s feet off his lap, Wilbur stood and dragged a heavy blanket over to cover Tommy, trying not to cry endeared tears at how he seemed even smaller under the big, fuzzy cover. 

"I hope you sleep well, sunshine," Wilbur murmured, running a gentle hand through Tommy's curls, his thumb brushing over the boy's temple. 

He was relieved he'd been able to find Tommy, the panic in his veins was not something Wilbur wanted to experience again any time soon. He settled down on the floor, easily in reach of Tommy should something happen. Pulling out his phone to pass the time, Wilbur was grateful it had been on silent and not disruptive to the boy should anyone call. He was surprised to find it overwhelmed with notifications of the others texting him. 

Ah. Shit. He'd forgotten to message to say he'd found Tommy. 

______________

Being the captain of a hockey team sounded difficult. Being the captain of the SMP hockey team was an absolute mission. It was constantly filled with making sure Schlatt didn't wage a war on someone, keeping George from killing Sapnap when the jokes were getting out of hand, monitoring Quackity at all times lest the small man buy a whole store for the team. At least Wilbur was somewhat manageable and easy to keep track of, unless he was on a chaotic streak, then everyone needed to be on high alert. 

A new addition to the odd little family however, was a figure skater that had single-handedly managed to get everyone wrapped around his finger, and he wasn't even aware of it. 

Tommy, to put it simply, was one of the sweetest people Techno had ever met. His hugs were a mood booster in themselves, his smile brightening any room, and to be frank, his laugh could bring world peace. Techno was grateful his team was so good at taking care of the boy, his progress with simply living as himself was way better than it was a mere few months ago, and it was due to their encouragement and support. Who knew how long the poor boy had been shunned and belittled for not presenting a 'better' front. He deserved to live a happier life, and by god the SMP was going to give him that.

Techno also discovered, due to Tommy's constant pressure to be perfect, he was afraid to pick up new things. Terrified he'd disappoint someone with how awful he'd be at something he'd never had any experience with. It took a little to even get him to hold a hockey stick, and more time to try playing around with it. Wilbur was usually the one teaching the kid how to play their game, but Techno occasionally stepped onto the ice to help Tommy instead. 

Techno enjoyed helping the teenager learn, talking him through strategic manoeuvres and stick control to better keep the puck away from other players. However, Tommy was having difficulty with one of the more complex plays, overthinking the movements and ultimately losing the puck to Techno who was circling him. 

"Hey, it's alright. Try to angle the stick to cover the puck more from the direction I'm in- yeah, there you go." Techno praised gently as Tommy did what he said, shielding the flat disc away from his stick. 

Tommy's brow was tightly drawn together as he clumsily corrected himself before the puck  could slip away again, gripping the stick tightly to cope with his anxious heart. An apology for his underwhelming ability was on the tip of his tongue, but Techno's next words made it die. 

"You're picking this up faster than Quackity actually, he couldn't figure out the movement without slipping over himself." The captain idly skated past Tommy as he spoke, doing a lazy turn to face the boy. 

Tommy's ears burned and shoved down the warmth curling inside him. His coach would've been incredibly disappointed if he saw how lacklustre he was performing. There would've been no praise. No gentle critique. Nothing that man did or said was gentle, it was jagged and sharp, meant to cut into someone and make them bleed. Techno was better than that, everything he said was genuine. 

The puck was snatched from him as Techno suddenly appeared and slid his hockey stick across the ice, nicking it with startling speed. The surprise of it made Tommy skid to a halt on his skates, blinking up in alarm at Techno who was watching him with a small smile. 

"You got caught up in your head again," he said lightly. 

Tommy's cheeks warmed in embarrassment and he tried to regain his composure to explain himself. "You just- you were nice to me, I wasn't expecting it."

There was a small exhaled chuckle from the pink haired captain. "Well, that's why I do it, because you shouldn't be unused to kindness," Techno sent him a small smile, sadness tinged it but it disappeared quickly. "Though if it distracts you so much then maybe I should implement that tactic into our usual strategies, hmm? Would that throw the other team off?"

"Please don't," Tommy choked on air, grinning though his face was definitely more pigmented than before. "That would be one of the worst things ever done in ice hockey history." 

"I'm sure I can think of things that are way worse." Techno's mind flashed to a certain team whose tactics were downright cruel, specifically towards one of his own team members. He shook off the thought before it rooted itself too deeply. Now wasn't the time. Techno cleared his throat and straightened up. "Right, let's try it again, and Tommy, keep your focus on the puck, okay?"

Tommy nodded and gripped the stick more readily, catching the disk when Techno slid it over to him. The captain skated to the end of the ice once more and spun to face the blonde. The teen seemed more focused, though his face still held that pleased warmth to it, still calming down from Techno's previous words. 

Techno held back a grin at the thought of Tommy getting so flustered over a simple compliment. It was pretty cute.

He skated forwards quickly, but this time Tommy was ready, immediately angling the puck away with his stick and skating to try and pass by the man. 

"Good, Tommy, very good," said Techno encouragingly, skating around to Tommy's other side to try and swipe the puck, but it was intercepted fairly quickly. Techno was amused to see Tommy's face having a shy grin on it.

The gentle scuffle for the puck was good practice for Tommy, though Techno’s brain was already pointing out openings and weaknesses in Tommy’s form that he could easily bypass and grab the disk. He ignored his thoughts though, and instead slowed down his skating and drew his hockey stick away as he spoke. 

“Tommy, just a pointer, a way to keep people away from the puck is to use your body as a barricade. Staying how you are would allow other players to take advantage of any opening you have to get the puck.” As Techno spoke, he angled his body in example, broadening his shoulders and shielding over his hockey stock. “See what I’m doing? Try it.”

Tommy immediately shifted his body to copy Techno’s form, masking the puck from view and keeping Techno blind to the disk. It was a nice start, though Techno saw the ways he could break past the defence. He shot down his brain before it could get ahead of itself, stamping on it as well for good measure. 

“That’s pretty good,” he said, straightening out of his guard position to circle Tommy, checking his form for possible improvements. “Another thing to remember is that you need to be aware of who’s around you when you’re guarding. Whether it be an opponent or a teammate, keeping track of everyone else will help your ability to keep the puck. Knowing the place of your teammate means you’ll have the chance to hit it to them if you’re in a tight spot and can’t break through the opposition.”

Tommy nodded along with his words, starting to uncurl his shoulders as he paid attention to Techno’s advice, forgetting his task of protecting the puck and instead drinking in everything the man was saying.

“Though, if it is the opposition overwhelming you, they could come in from any direction to catch you off guard. Knowing where most of the other teams’ players are will give you a better shot of not being hit from your blind spots.”

Almost subconsciously, Techno reached over and gently poked Tommy’s stomach which had gotten more exposed from the lack of defence. Tommy jolted away with a yelp and sharply turned to face Techno, the puck tightly drawn close to his stick and far out of Techno’s range. The captain stared for a second then smiled.

"Right. We can work with that actually,” he said, standing up straighter and skating away. “We’re going to run that again, remember what I said about barricading.”

Tommy blinked as Techno backed up, his brow scrunched endearingly. "Work with what?" He asked in confusion. 

The captain sent him a grin. "You're going to try and keep me away from the puck using that defence I just showed you, and you'll know if I'm able to get through it if I can reach your stomach." 

Instantaneously, Tommy's belly fluttered with nervous butterflies at the implications. His whole face warmed as he spluttered. "I- ah-… wh-what?" 

Techno snickered, "This shouldn't be an issue as long as you guard correctly, now, take up your defence." 

Tommy, still flushed warmly, scrambled to hide the puck behind his hockey stick, his mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to figure out why on earth Techno would use such an odd teaching method to help him learn the move. Surely this couldn’t be a common thing in ice hockey-

Techno rushed across the ice and Tommy’s brain went from confused to 'game mode' in a split second, skates scraping against the floor as he shifted his body to protect the puck. 

"Good, Tommy, very very good," Techno praised, skidding to the boy's other side and seeing how fast the teenager swerved in defence. 

His stick knocked the puck closer to him, skating backwards to keep Techno moving as he tried to find an opening to slip by. If he could get by and score a goal that would surely make the captain proud. 

Techno suddenly changed tactics to circling Tommy, making the boy turn with him, hyper aware of the puck and his torso being exposed for even a second. It made something giddy and mirthful bubble in his chest, a giggle spilling from him without thinking. It was kind of fun, the added challenge of keeping the puck safe as well as his stomach.

Techno chuckled a bit at the sound Tommy let out. It was good to hear him sound like a kid. He’d wanted this to be a bit more fun for the boy. 

“Someone’s getting giggly,” he commented airly, skidding around suddenly and - with Tommy’s delayed reaction to it - was able to weasel a hand under Tommy’s arm to prod his stomach. Tommy instantly jolted, a high pitched yelp leaping from him. With a fast movement, he’d spun around and dragged the puck with him, keeping Techno in his sight once more, shoulders bouncing with his rapid giggling. 

Techno seemed a bit taken aback with the fast reaction, eyes wide with surprise that quickly morphed into something impressed. “Swift recovery, excellent, Tommy.” He then grinned playfully. “Let’s see how long you can keep that up.”

The next few minutes were filled with Tommy’s giggles and Techno’s gentle laughter, their shared giddiness practically able to be felt as Techno chased Tommy around the ice for the puck and Tommy tried to protect it. Techno had managed to get Tommy so distracted by keeping the disk away from him that he didn’t even seem aware how much he was laughing. Every once in a while, Tommy would let slip a snort, a squeal, and at one point, a series of particularly endearing squeaks. Due to Techno managing to reach over and tickle the boy every once in a while, the bubbly, mirthful noises remained consistent.

The entire scene was sweet enough to give someone cavities. 

Ice skidded out from Techno’s skates as he made a sharp turn past Tommy, scribbling into his stomach in passing and the puck just about skidded out from his hockey stick with how badly Tommy squirmed away from the contact. 

"Come on, Tommy," Techno gently teased, grinning widely as he watched Tommy quickly reclaim the skidding disk, "keep defending that puck, don't let me get it." 

Tommy was in fits of wild giggles, flinching away from Techno but trying to keep the puck close, inevitably making the man go back in to scuttle across his abdomen and try to steal the disk. Though, to be fair, Techno wasn't really trying, he was just being a menace. 

"Tehech!" Tommy squealed, swivelling on the ice to protect the soft spot from the fingers.

"The puck, Tommy, I'm gonna get it if you let it go." Techno shifted his stick towards the disk but Tommy swiped it back under the cover of his own quickly. 

Techno, admittedly rather meanly, scribbled across Tommy's stomach when he saw an opening and gently wriggled his nails up the boy's side when he tried to squirm away. 

"TehEHEchnoho!" Tommy's voice jumped an octave and he turned sharply to keep Techno in front of him, only just managing to keep the disk under his hockey stick and not sliding away across the ice. 

"There we go, much faster reflex that time," Techno approved, watching fondly as left over giggles spilled from Tommy at the harmless attack. 

The boy didn't seem against the unique teaching, if anything, he seemed to be having fun. It then occurred to Techno that Tommy hadn't said "stop" the entire time they’d been messing around. Interesting. 

When the time came that Techno decided they’d been on the ice long enough, they skated off the rink and sat down on the benches, taking off their skates side by side. 

"That wasn’t a common way to practice," Tommy commented, sipping from his water bottle and tugging on a hoodie. It basically swallowed him whole - Tommy quickly deduced it was Sapnap’s due to the familiar cologne and well-kept softness of the fabric. 

Techno huffed, drinking from his own bottle as he stared out onto the ice. "You'd be surprised. Phil used to do that with me to train my reflexes."

Tommy paused, the bottle inches from his lips. "...He did not."

"Oh yeah. That man is good at what he does, but he also knows how to be evil when he wants to. Helped me learn though." 

Tommy giggled again at the idea of it. Techno was pleased to see he didn't cover his mouth, the sound remaining in the open and unmuffled. 

It was comfortably quiet as the pair sorted out their bags and prepared to leave the rink, but something weighed on the back of Tommy’s mind. He had noticed the commonness of the SMP players poking and prodding him to make him laugh. He wasn’t an idiot, he caught on after Schlatt’s playful attack on his knees, though he wasn’t expecting this kind of attention from Techno as well. He didn’t understand why they kept doing it, other than to make him laugh, but that was such an odd reason for the random affection. Surely it couldn’t be that simple.  

Tommy put down his water bottle. 

"Techno?" 

The man flexed his brow in acknowledgement. "Mhm?" 

Tommy hesitated then turned to look at the pinkette, something shy in his face and anxious in his eyes. He wet his lips before he spoke. "My uh, my laugh…" 

Techno's attention immediately shifted to fully focus on the boy, the small words holding a mountain of weight behind them. "Yes?" He probed gently, his face open and carefully neutral. 

Tommy's hands balled up the fabric of his pants and he dropped his gaze to the floor. "You guys… really don't mind it, right? Like- you all seem really taken aback whenever I do laugh and I get it- I do, it can be a bit much, but you don't seem…disgusted by it. The past week everyone has been trying to make me laugh and I don’t get it. My laugh sounds awful but you never act repulsed by it and I…you just let me do it and I can’t figure out why. I don’t know if you’re doing it to make fun of me or-"

"No." Techno's hands were suddenly over Tommy's, holding them gently but strongly. 

Tommy's mouth snapped shut in a blink of an eye. He stared at the man, Techno holding his gaze firmly, but it was kind. 

Techno took a breath and shook his head as he exhaled, running his thumb over the back of Tommy's hand to calm himself down. "No. We’d never make fun of your laugh," he said quieter but with no less resoluteness. He took another breath. "Tommy, your laughter… it's wonderful. Honestly, we've been trying to encourage you to let yourself do it more so you don't feel self-conscious about it around us."

Awkwardly, Techno smiled and squeezed Tommy's hand. "I'm not that good with words," he admitted with a small chuckle. "But, to put it simply, we love you, Tommy, and we want you to be yourself. Your laugh sounds so much better naturally than it does faked, you never have to force yourself to tone anything down. You never should force yourself to be quieter, to be ‘better’ or whatever your brain tells you. We prefer you just being yourself. We adore you the way you are."

The silence in the rink seemed so much louder upon Techno finishing his little speech. He was quiet where he sat, gauging Tommy’s reaction with mild apprehension, a little worried he’d said too much and overwhelmed the poor boy. Tommy was staring at Techno with wide eyes, mouth slightly parted as he absorbed the words like a dried out sponge. Then he blinked, then he blinked some more, then his vision was blurry and Techno was panicking. 

"Oh- oh no, Tommy- shit- don't cry, I'm sorry if I upset you-"

Tommy threw himself into Techno's arms, hugging him so tightly it almost cut off his breathing. Shoving his face into the man's chest, he inhaled shakily to try and control the tears that were now streaming down his face. 

"Thank you." He gasped, gripping the material of Techno's jumper and clinging closer when Techno wrapped his arms around him in return, warm and sturdy. "T-Thank you, thank you, Techno." 

Techno smiled into Tommy's hair and pressed his face into the golden curls. "Of course, Tommy," he murmured. "For you, the world." 

______________

Tommy didn't laugh much. 

Or at least he didn't use to. 

He’d been in a chokehold of something venomously toxic for years, draining him of every little quirk and characteristic. Then he’d met people who weren’t even close to being like that. They loved him, and everything he could offer; his smile, his humour, his laugh. Something so disgusting to someone who put on a façade of love, and so precious to people who adored him openly. 

Met with adoration and fondness every time, Tommy let himself laugh around the people he cared about, despite the cooing that would one day kill him of flustered embarrassment. The SMP boys were pleased they were able to coax the boy into being more comfortable around them, months of work put into bringing the kid out of his shell absolutely worth it to hear Tommy laugh freely. Internally, they all wished they were able to beat the hell out of Tommy’s coach for training the teen to hate his laugh. The fantasy of beating up that human shit stain was often dreamt upon for the team. It was a shame murder was so frowned on, Schlatt was ready to grab a chainsaw the second someone said the word.