"I want you to meet my family," Tommy murmured, your hands carding through his hair. His head lay in your lap, half-curled around your side and gripping onto your clothes.

His teeth nipped at your wrist with a soft whine, and you rubbed his jaw, letting your hand fall limp. Your brother took it in with greedy need. It gave you the chance to watch him, to really think.

"I'll meet them, firefly," you finally spoke, soft and weary.

Less than a dozen people were here, yet he was still on edge: mouth pulled taunt, eyes darting about, leg bouncing too quick to see, muscles locked and drawn against his body. His knuckles were pale where they death-gripped his pants, fangs peeking out beyond pursed lips. Quiet passed between you for a second, warm contentment stewing with anxiety. You opened your mouth to be serious once more, but stopped when Tom stiffened suddenly. 

His spine went ramrod straight, eyes blown wide, pupils tiny. You could've sworn he nicked holes in his jeans, but couldn't tell as he stood up so fast you were pushed back. He didn't even notice, full attention on the doors. 

The first easily loomed over you, a leather watch rested on his protruding wrist, ticking away. Lanky limbs were regal at his sides, fitting his form like he was made to tower over his peers, made to look down with superiority and judgment. 

The second only had an inch or two on your own height, though his stout bulk made up for it. You knew he was far stronger than you were. Fiery rose hair tied back in a knot, loose yet secure on the back of his skull.

"Back off," Wilbur warned, voice thick with emotion. "You know we came to talk, not to fight." 

Tommy bit out a nasty snarl, tapered off like he was fighting himself. That knowledge had you looking at him, heart stuttering at the way his very bones shook. 

"Theseus," Technoblade's tone set off little alarm bells in your head, buzzing with instincts of unsafety and anger.