doubled_speed | For Wearingthestars

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For Wearingthestars

I wish I wasn't alone.

The words were whispered from inside the relative safety of the tiny closet in Tommy Shepherd's bedroom in Springfield, New Jersey. Whispered because there was no way that he wanted Frank or Mary, fighting in the living room, shouting and screaming, to hear them.

I wish I wasn't alone.

Repeated as Tommy held his hands out before him in the darkness palms up. He put as much conviction behind them as he put into anything he said starting with those two words. He had found rather quickly that whatever this power of his was, it came more readily when he framed it as a wish.

I wish I wasn't alone.

He repeated a third time. Three times always seemed to be the right amount when it came to willfully using his power. Even now he could see the faint green glow of energy radiating from his hands, trying to catch his words and shape them into whate he was asking for. At school he didn't always need it three times. He could feel the energy building in his gut like a tidal wave and crashing over him when he wished the bullies would leave him alone, or that he'd actually gotten a good grade so Mary wouldn't yell at him, or that the shirt that got torn up and bloody was clean so Frank wouldn't hit him for wasting good clothes.

Now, though, the words didn't seem to catch, and after a moment of held breath, the energy faded back, leaving behind only the briefest flash of sparks and static that he had to shake out of his hands. Apparently even magic, or whatever this was, couldn't help him.

It was a stupid wish, anyway, Tommy realized as he pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. And then, of course, he flinched at the sound of a breaking plate. They were getting bad tonight. He didn't want to be alone, not with them shouting like that. Sometimes it turned into Frank driving off to drink. Sometimes Mary stormed to their room and locked the door, leaving Frank on the couch. The former tended to mean Frank not coming home at all that night, and when he did the next day he smelled like booze and some other woman's perfume. The latter tended to mean Tommy couldn't sneak some breakfast in the kitchen before school, or being caught if he tried and he really didn't want to be on the receiving end of Frank's belt.

“Dammit. All I wanted was someone to talk to.”

He feels the rush of power even as he feels his body go limp and the world go dark around him. It’s a strange mix between a sneeze and passing out. When the sensation passes things are weird. For one thing, he can’t feel his body. There isn’t the cold of his room or the rough drag of his scratchy wool sweater that is too small for him or even the gnawing in his belly. No, there is just the swelling feeling of his magic, a prickly energy across his skin, and this place.

This new place is nicer than his room. There is more space. There are nerdy decorations on the wall. There are no cracks anywhere or dents from fists or broken furniture. He hates seeing how much nicer this place is than his home. But he is more interested in why his magic brought him here. And in the soft green light everything around him seems bathed in. Tommy raises his hand, or maybe just the concept of a hand, and is faced with the scary truth. His whole body is green and transparent. Okay. That is a bit weirder than normal.

Welcome, Tommy Shepherd, to the world of astral projection. And Billy Kaplan? Meet the strange, glowing ghostly boy in your room.

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A touch at a speed that Tommy could only just barely process. But it was still something amazing in that it made him smile. Comfort. What more could he ask for?

It's the comfort he needs to sit while Rebecca starts filling salad bowls.

"Yeah, I can try that," he tells Billy, watching the salad. "That... has green pepper in it. Does salad always have that? I thought it was just lettuce and tomato."

Rebecca and Jeff must have been working at staying straight faced, because neither of them flinch.

"We do our best to make sure our boys get all the nutrients they need. We've had to step it up with Billy's situation. So carrots, and radish and pepper. If there's something you don't like you can pick it out. We won't judge you. We just ask you try everything once," Jeff says, and Tommy nods. This is all so much.

"They're all good, if you wanna try any of the others," he adds, dressing his own salad now that his bowl's been filled, clearly more hungry than he maybe let on earlier. He picks a pepper out to snack on, not wanting to really start until everyone's been served and ready.

"They really won't," he promises, echoing his parents. Billy's not sure what Tommy does and doesn't like, but his parents aren't going to be mad either way, and he doesn't want Tommy to worry.

"...So what'd Cap say, Mom?"

Dude, you can't just turn down food from a friend's parents. Or... Or maybe your own parents. Tommy doesn't know, and it's a headache. So instead he pours some dressing when Billy's done and doesn't protest when Jeff heaps pasta onto his plate. More and better food than he's used to.

"He said of course Tommy can stay here tonight. In addition, they do want to talk to him tomorrow about what he experienced, so they can address the facility he was at. I told them the will wait until Tommy is ready, and that in the mean time I will be turning some powerful friends of mine in investigative journalism onto them."

Because of course Rebecca has friends in such fields.

"Your mother has a new project," Billy's dad says. And do projects ever mean something intense in their family.

As long as you're polite about it you can. In theory. Billy's definitely always tried to put on a good face no matter what's he's served in guest type situations, so he understands Tommy's worry.

Billy's drained about half his glass of water all ready, pausing to give a pleased grin, glancing to Tommy.

"That's great. I um- I mentioned some of what you said to Tommy, about maybe getting the testing done. Is that something we could do from home?"

Neither of his parents can help the brief look of hope they share. But Jeff finally nods, before looking to Tommy.

"It's simple. It's just a cheek swab. Three of them. One each for Rebecca and myself, one for you."

"No blood?" Tommy asks, unable to keep the shock from his tone. And maybe his hand reaches for Billy's under the table again. They may not have connected often in his astral form, but doing so had left a very definite impression on Tommy. Nothing like a magical sense that you BELONG to someone to make you seek their support. "No needles?"

"None of either," Jeff assures him. "I have enough supplies here to set them up tonight. Twenty seconds, tops. Then I take them in tomorrow. We'd have an answer within a few days. A bit less if I can sweet talk one of the ladies in the lab to run it earlier."

"And well worth it. Though no matter the result, Tommy, we're going to help you," Rebecca promises, voice firm.

Oh. Billy looks relieved, though he's sure not half as relieved as Tommy must, hand seeming to know to seek out Tommy's as the other goes looking for his, giving him a squeeze beneath the table and sharing a shyly excited look with him.

He nods along with his mother assertion. "You're not going back." To the prison or to the Shepherds. He realizes a bit belatedly how much that plays into the 'kidnapping' scenario and flushes a bit. Not that Tommy has to stay here with them, but...Billy hopes he'll want to.

"You guys are trying to give me Stockholm Syndrome or something," Tommy grumbles, mostly trying to keep up a tough, independent teen facade when he's secretly excited and hopeful. Dammit, he didn't want his hopes up.

"Actually," Rebecca starts, only to be silenced by a serious look from Jeff.

"That is not a way to welcome him to the house, dear," he reminds her.

"Yeah, don't get Mom started on psychology stuff unless you're prepared to sit through a very long and educational lecture," Billy teases. His tone makes it clear he's lived through about a hundred thousand of them by now.

"Now Billy, I'm not that bad, am I?"

Jeff makes a show of looking anywhere but at his wife, but he can't help but crack a smile.

"I think the jury might be out on that one, Mrs. K."

"Rebecca. Please, Tommy, for right now, you can call me Rebecca."

Well that shocks him, and he hides that by nodding and digging into his pasta. Which seems to be the signal for anyone who wants to start eating to do so.

Billy just bites at his lip, hiding a smirk, and with the floodgates opens, so to speak, he lets himself dig in. He's mindful to eat at something close to a normal speed, though his plate does seem to be emptying considerably faster than anyone else's.

This is night. It feels like Tommy's meant to be here, even if Billy can still feel his nerves practically vibrating off him. "Better than the canned stuff, right?"

"Yeah, a lot better," Tommy agrees, though the words are hard one. Because the second he has a first bite, he's completely invested in the food in front of him. Massively invested. To the point that Rebecca and Jeff, prone to talking to their children at meals, are quiet. Better to let the boy dig in.

And he has seconds of everything, even thirds of the salad because it takes so amazing. The Kaplans just keep busy keeping the plates and the drinks of the boys clean, though every now and then do do share concerned looks.

Eventually even Billy takes notice, though he assumes it's in large part due to how much power Tommy exerted. That has to take a tole. It occurs to him to note casually as he can- "Dad usually makes a real big breakfast too-" in case some part Tommy's thinking he won't get a chance at this again. No need to stuff himself to the point of being sick.

See, that's smart, Billy. Because that was exactly what Tommy was thinking. And maybe just a little 'I'm going to fuck this up and get thrown out.' He looks a bit ashamed for half a second, looking down at his empty plate.

"Tell me, Tommy. You a waffles and pancakes sort of guy, or eggs?" Rebecca asks with a smile, like she's trying to make a decision for breakfast.

"I still think crepes are the best," Jeff cuts in. "Tommy, you're in my corner, right?"

"What's a crepe?"

From the way Jeff grins, clearly it's going to be breakfast.

That half second makes Billy flush with a sort of guilt, but acknowledging it would only serve to make Tommy uncomfortable, so Billy just smiles.

"They're basically fancy thin pancakes," he summarizes, a description he's sure his father wouldn't be wholly satisfied with, "I can't make them without messing it up."

"And you fill them with stuff," Jeff protests. "Fruit and cream and all sorts of things. I'm going out right after dinner to buy everything we need for a whole boat load of them. I imagine Billy can put away a lot more than the last time I made them."

"He is a growing young man," Rebecca agrees. "And we could invite Teddy over, if that's alright with you boys."

Already the adults are treating them like a unit. Or maybe, Tommy realizes, they're trying to make it less of an awkward weight on his shoulders alone. That's... kinda cool of them.

"Yeah, if Billy's boyfriend wants to hang, I've got no problem."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure as the brother you aren't supposed wanna hang with my-" Billy pauses, realizing his words and thoughts have gotten away from him, cheeks growing hot. They haven't said the 'brother' thing out loud really.

"Uh...heh- Y-yeah if Teddy's up for company I'm sure he'd like that."

No one had dared to say it around Tommy. And Tommy just lets out a long breath. Yeah, these people want him. And... And all he cares is that people don't take him from Billy. He knows he has to be near this idiot.

"Billy, you should invite him," Rebecca says softly. "We'll need a bit of time for your stomachs to settle before dessert anyway."

Dessert? Tommy looks eager at that idea.

There's a flash of relief as the slip doesn't result in any sort of backlash, or upset, eyes catching Tommy's to make sure they're okay, and he dares for a small smile. Brothers. Whether the test proves it or not, that's what they are. He's sure.

He starts to nod at his mother's suggestion, and then pauses uncertainly. "...Will it be weird for him...to be here?" he asks, looking for reassurance. There's no sign of what had taken place, but this is still the scene of his mother's death.

"It might be," Rebecca says, with her voice soft. "It could be that it will help him heal faster. One can't say one way or another."

Tommy just frowns. He doesn't FULLY know what's going on. Other than Teddy can't go home, and there had been a hole in the wall.

Billy nods again in consideration, and it takes him a moment to think of Tommy, flushing apologetically.

"Um, Mrs. Altm- uh...Teddy's mom...the Super Skrull...killed her. Here. That's how, uh, the ...the whole thing started. So...I'm worried about whether he'll feel okay about being here again so soon after it."

"You should call him," Tommy decides, looking to the Kaplan adults. "Can... I be excused?"

It sounds more like he's asking if that's the right thing to say. And the two of them nod.

"Billy, show Tommy where the bathroom is first. I'm sure he could use a nice shower," Rebecca suggests.

"Right, yeah," Billy nods, and that anxiousness seems to drop at least for a moment, up on his feet and smiling at Tommy, "Come on, I'll show you," he says, leading the way towards the bathroom. "The hot water takes a second, but once it kicks in it's super hot, so don't let it trick you into a false sense of security or you'll get scalded."

"Dude, any hot might be really hot," Tommy admits when he gets out of earshot of the parents. "The place you got me from? Cold only. And they mostly used hoses, while I was in dampeners. Because, you know, electricity."

"Wh-" Billy freezes briefly in his tracks, blinking as though he can't quite comprehend the words Tommy's saying, frowning abruptly, pulling Tommy in the shelter of the bathroom and into a concerned hug, the mirror rattling slightly with Billy's radiating anger, though he tries to suppress it.

"...I'm so sorry, Tommy-"

What? Tommy wasn't expecting that. He'd started to just... accept what was done to him. Sure, he was angry, but come on. That was a practical choice when dealing with him.

"Hey, it's fine, right? That wasn't what was bad about the place."

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