One More Step Out of the Pit

chapter 17

There was a reason Tommy did not trust medication. Whatever stupid pills Wilbur had tried to make and Technoblade had made Tommy take after the late lunch/early supper had done nothing but make his head all fuzzy. It was evil, horrible torture. They made him sleepy! He'd already slept enough for the day, thank you very much, but he ended up dozing for the rest of the evening. And for what? They didn't do anything at all!

Okay, maybe his wound didn't hurt as much, but what did that matter if he was 60-100% asleep the whole time he wasn't hurting? It was truly terrible and lame, and how dare they?

From what he could remember through his grogginess, he had expressed his discontent repeatedly with very compelling arguments, but none of them had appreciated his reasoning, and he'd mostly been shoved back into bed and told to watch the movie or go to sleep.

Eventually, they'd decided it was bedtime even though Tommy argued he was a big man who did not have a bedtime and stop patronizing him, Wilbur. He'd cleaned up and changed into yet another white shirt and grey pants before crashing back into bed and falling asleep almost instantly because of the stupid pills.

He woke some hours later with the lights dimmed and the tv shut off. He instinctually jumped at the honestly creepy as all fuck person sitting on the edge of his bed but calmed when he remembered what he was. Apparently, they'd decided that since he already knew about Ghostbur, they may as well all get a full night's sleep, because the ghost was the only one here.

"Hi, Tommy," he said when he noticed he was awake.

"Hi," Tommy said, grumpily. He was still groggy, and the soft bed and low lights didn't help. "Wilbur drugged me," he pouted.

"I know," he replied, sounding more amused than sympathetic.

"He's a bitch," Tommy declared. The cow plushie had been settled next to him at some point and he curled his body around it now.

"Do you feel any better?"

"Yes," he grumbled, "but now I'm tired."

"Well, why don't you go back to sleep?" he suggested.

"Don't wanna."

"Ah," he said with a head tilt. "What do you want to do then?"

"I want to do crime," Tommy answered, "and text women."

"Aren't you supposed to be a superhero?" His smile made his forehead all wrinkly, and Tommy wondered how that worked since he wasn't really in a body right now.

"I want to do crime against supervillains, so it's okay."

Ghostbur grinned. "And what crimes would you be committing?"

"Stealing mostly. I've always been good at stealing, but I had to stop when I got hired by the Superhero Guild. I'm going to break into your kitchen and take a bite out of every type of food you have except for the weird bread, and then I want the sweater Wilbur was wearing today, because it was very soft."

"Aw! You liked my sweater," he cooed.

"Soft," Tommy mumbled as an answer. He laid his head down with a yawn. "And you're never getting it back."

He floated forward a bit and cold non-pressure descended on Tommy's nose. Tommy wrinkled it. "You can have whatever you like," Ghostbur promised, "in the morning."

"You'll be gone in the morning," Tommy pointed out.

"Not really," Ghostbur replied. Tommy didn't have the energy to argue the point. He blinked once and suddenly Phil was there, him and Ghostbur talking in hushed tones.