Chapter Text
Tommy-Danger-Kraken-Innit was a big man, the biggest in fact. Except for maybe his Dad, but that was only because he could pick Tommy up and spin him around like he was an airplane. (A very pog experience, Tommy recommends it 9/10 stars on the Dadza travel menu, right below riding on his shoulders.) Since his Dad was at home at the moment, doing what Mumza said was being a “stay at home Dad” and taking care of them, while she kept up her girl boss job at the office, Tommy knew for sure he was the biggest man of all at his school.
Essempi; shortened by its students to SMP was a small and sweet kindergarten building just across the street from the big elementary school building where Wilbur and Techno went. This knowledge kept him content every day as he marched to school, swinging back and forth between the two twins as they walked. However- today was a very important day. Their Dad woke them all up early that morning, telling Tommy that today was Wilbur and Techno's annual Doctor checkup. (cue, the slow realization that once he was dropped off at kindergarten with Mr. Sam and Dream, the meanie assistant, he'd be all alone.)
“Tommy- Toms, no it's just for today so that Mr. Ponk can check and see if Wil and Tech are growing alright!” his father pleads, kneeling on the floor before the sniffling child.
“T- Techie ‘n Wilby are sick?” he sobs, tears dribbling down his nose as the cascade out from his watery blue eyes.
“No- no no no sweetheart it's just in case! We do this every year, just like how you go to the dentist even if you don't have a cavity.” Phil desperately tries to explain. “Don't you want to go see all your friends at SMP? I heard from Dream that today you lucky little ducklings get to play with paints!” he sing-songed, only sending Tommy into another wailing fit at the mention of his “enemy.”
(The truth was- Tommy had been the one to break the Christmas ornament he'd made, an unused music disk painted with a cow and other animals. He'd simply decided it was Dream's fault for putting it up on a shelf taller than him to dry…)
After much coaxing and hugs from his brothers, reassuring him that they felt just fine, Tommy was dropped off at SMP with a very red nose and his animal covered lunch box in tow. Dream came to meet him at the front door, and for once he was too worn out to verbally assault the young adult. Reaching up with a sniffle and a whine, the 5 year old was lifted up into the warm hold of the hoodie clad assistant as he whispered assurances to him.
The rest of the day passed so slowly for the usually hyperactive kid, Sam looking on in concern as Tommy lethargically dragged his fingers through the paint unenthusiastically. Walking softly over to the little table of tots, he squatted down and placed a warm hand on his back. “Are you feeling alright Toms? Maybe you're sick today-” he asked, reaching up and feeling the sad child's forehead.
“NO!! I'm not sick! Techie and Wil- they went to the doctor- and now they're not there!!” he whimpered, gesturing vaguely across the room in the direction of the elementary school. “What if they die!!?” shrieking in terror at the thought, Tommy lept from his froggy stool and ran straight for the front doors. Despite being the biggest of them all, Tommy was scooped up into the arms of Dream- colorful paint and all, and deposited on the playroom sink’s counter to be cleaned up by the teaching assistant.
Face and hands clean of paint, though not free of the kindergartner’s signature pouty glare, Tommy sat angrily banging his feet on the cabinet doors below him. Dream sighed, running a moderately colorful hand through his hair and giving what he hoped was a supportive and reassuring smile to the smaller blonde. “Toms- I promise you, your brothers are doing just fine. They didn't seem sick to you this morning, right?” he asked the tot, praying silently to gogy that he'd said the right thing.
A scowl followed shortly by more wails and anguished yelling from the little ball of rage were all he received in response. “J-Jack told Techno ‘an Wilby that you can get super sick and not even know till it's too late!!” he yelped, breathing slowing down as the exhausted intern wiped his tears with a quiet hum. “Well, Jack's right that can happen. But- Tommy that's very rare for little kiddos like you and your brothers, and you've all been feeling just fine!” Dream assured him, groaning internally at the thought of Jack Manifold, infamous know it all spreading talk of cancer and tuberculosis over in George's 3rd grade classroom.
All he could think to do was get the distressed 5 year old a cup of apple juice (his favorite animal decked cup of course,) and a chocolate from the treat box after making him promise not to tell Sam. Even then- after enough sugar to have the defaultly hyper child walking on the ceiling, he was still alternating between enraged sulking on the caterpillar carpet, and stomping back and forth in front of the door. No matter what Sam and Dream did, Tommy refused to be coaxed back into the group. Eventually he came back to sit at storytime, pink cheeks and puffy red eyes downcast as he stared at the ground.
“And once the hungry hungry caterpillar had eaten his fill, he found himself feeling a little strange!” Sam read, seated in the blanket covered armchair in front of all the little ones on their dots. “‘Oh no!’ said the not-so-hungry caterpillar! 'My tummy isn't feeling so good! I think I might be sick.” he continued, making up little voices as he went along.
“Sam you idiot…” Dream groaned under his breath, watching Tommy whimper at the story from his isolated spot on the rug’s corner where he'd been sulking. Tears started to slide down the chubby cheeks of the tot, still soft with adorable baby fat that made dream reminiscent of when his own baby brother, foolish, wasn't yet a teenager and “too old” for Dream to scoop up and snuggle. (he did it anyways, the 14 year old could pout about it after he'd pinned him down and cuddled like a koala with his arms and legs wrapped around his brother.) “Hey Toms, how about we go say hi to Mars?” Dream whispered, careful not to disturb the storytime. Mars was the class pet fish, bought for them by Sapnap who was the PE teacher's assistant over in the elementary school. (if you asked Dream, it was definitely so he had an excuse to come over and say hi to the kiddos more often.)
Tommy nodded slowly, stumbling to his feet with a whine and reaching up to hold the caretaker's hand. Seeing how the kid had exhausted himself beyond his usual limits, Dream opted to scoop him up instead and settle the child on his hip. Tommy perked up a little when he saw the goldfish swimming idly in its tank, but it seemed Mars was tired as well and he soon retreated into an area obscured by simple water plants. Tommy didn't want to look at the plants, or go out to the playground, or even watch cartoons. (all very large treats reserved for special days and comforting the easily upset children of SMP.) The usually confident and self assured assistant was at a loss, settling Tommy for a nap wrapped up in soft blankets with his stuffed moth Clementine in order to give the worn out toddler some rest. As he walked back out to the main room, he was greeted by the finish of the story as the caterpillar emerged and realized he was now a butterfly. “please make it through the day, Tommy…” he begged every spirit of daycare workers around him desperately.
Luckily, the sobs had stopped and the sweet little bundle of blankets and its contents cuddled up and dreaming were layed in the nap room on a fluffy beanbag bed. Dream quickly communicated this information to Sam, and then helped supervise as the day went on. Before he knew it an hour had passed, Tubbo had managed to climb into the laundry basket and won hide and seek, (a little too good of a hider, if you asked Sam…) Purpled had drank paint water again and was currently being held down on his arms and legs by several members of the class as Sam fed him some tummy-soothing children's medicine. Everything seemed fine, the usual buzz of chaotic 5 year olds filling the building, the smell of finger paints and kinetic sand mixing to create the scent of SMP on crafts day, the clicking of the front door lock as it closes…. Oh no.
Dream raced to the quiet nap room- finding a disheveled pile of blankets, missing one golden haired tot and one fuzzy and soft moth plushy. Scrambling back to the front and haphazardly tossing his indoor slippers off, he shoved his feet into his worn sneakers and yanked the door open. Sure enough, there was Tommy. Tiny velcro-strap shoes messily slipped on his feet, the ladybug motif on them scuffed and slightly dirty.
Sighing in relief at the sight of the child, Dream rushed into the street and lifted Tommy into his arms before a car could come along and hit the poor boy. Making sure that he was tucked securing to his chest, cradled by one arm and held tightly by the other, he headed inside again with the protesting 5 year old secure. Upon stepping inside he was greeted with confusion from the other kindergartners and concern from Sam. The taller blonde handed off his previous cargo to Sam, and ushered the reluctant children away as Tommy was patched up by the teacher. This led to the usual predicament whenever one of their friends was unwell. A good third of the class needed reassurance that their playmate would be alright, at least a quarter had to be held back and distracted in order to prevent them running and attaching themselves to the other like a barnacle. As for the remainder- it was truly a mixed bag. Tubbo would be over in his self-proclaimed invention corner, finding the cure to their problem. Ranboo would always make some form of card, gift, etc. for their unwilling patient. As for Purpled- well, he was a special case. Raised by their friend, (and now that they were all together in their early graduates program getting teaching experience,) colleague- Punz. Punz was an amazing older brother to Purpled, he just had some… Questionable morals.
Purpled was currently plotting murder underneath his favorite (purple) elephant table. This was the fourth time in fifteen minutes that he'd had to confiscate the colored pencils the little assassin toddler had somehow managed to sharpen.
“For the last time Purps- I will call Punz and put you in timeout! No! You can't just threaten your way out with a pencil.” Dream yelped, chasing the hoodie-clad child around as he crawled in and out of places he couldn't reach. “I'm going to have a talk with Punz about watching prison escape movies with a kid less than a third of his age.” he mumbled, eventually managing to catch his target by his hood and confiscate all (hopefully all) of his sharp objects.
Dream sighed, finally settling the rambunctious children enough to watch some cartoons. When he walked over to Sam and Tommy, (who was now half asleep curled in the caretaker's arms) Sam whispered to him under his breath: "I'm going to drive him to the doctor's office. The separation anxiety nearly sent him into a panic attack, and we have too many kids today to be able for us to help properly."
Dream looked at Sam, eyes raking over the older yet still young adult and his tired facial features. "I'll drive him." he volunteered, before he could think. "I can get him there safe, I'll get the address from Phil." he assured Sam, at the almost fearful look the elder shot him.
"Let's get you to your family, Toms." Dream whispered, taking the drowsy and tearful tot into his arms and heading out the front doors towards his car.