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Before Tommy knew knew Wilbur, he would have never dreamed that he would be hanging upside down on his couch, complaining as loud as he could about something that he was very much exaggerating.
“I swear, I am never going to Tesco's again. Wil. you don’t understand. Not only had the lady hit me with her cart and broke my ankle, they forced me to go to the back of the line.”
Wilbur hums. “That’s so sad.”
Tommy blows out a long stream of air. “I know! And then it started raining on the way back.”
“You could have asked me to pick you up,” Wilbur mentions. “And sit up straight, you must be uncomfortable.”
Tommy rolls his eyes, falling off the couch so that he could sit somewhat normally. “I don’t get uncomfortable. I am indestructible.”
“I thought you broke your leg?” Wilbur grins.
Tommy lands on the couch beside him, sinking into Wilbur’s space. Wilbur offers up his hand, palm up, and Tommy takes it.
“It bled all over the floor,” Tommy huffs.
Wilbur intertwines their fingers, humming slightly. “Did it really?”
Tommy frowns. “Well, no, but it hurts.”
Wilbur looked at him sympathetically, but there was something mocking in his expression. “Oh, did my poor baby get hurt? Does he need his big brother to kiss his boo boos away?”
Tommy shoves at Wilbur’s shoulder with his other hand. He was positioned on the couch weirdly, turned around so that he was facing the back of the couch (and Wilbur). Tommy leans on Wilbur’s legs, stretching. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Children shouldn’t know such words.”
Tommy headbutts Wilbur’s shoulder. “As if you aren’t as old as a dinosaur.”
“I can get the dinosaur to come eat you, if I wanted,” Wilbur says seriously.
“We would simply become friends.”
Wilbur lets go of Tommy’s hand and grabs onto Tommy’s ankle. Without warning, he lifts Tommy’s ankle, sending him falling backwards onto the floor. He hits his head on the carpet, and screams just to be a little shit.
“No,” Wilbur says, inspecting Tommy’s ankle. “You aren’t even bruised, you big baby.”
“My head!” Tommy yelps.
Wilbur rolls his eyes, but lowers himself from the couch to the ground. He lifts up Tommy’s head and places it in his lap, knocking on his skull lightly.
“What’s my prognosis, doc?” Tommy asks.
Wilbur puts on a thoughtful face. “Your skull is very damaged, but the good news is, there’s nothing in there to protect.”
Tommy starts to complain, but then Wilbur grabs on to Tommy’s nose, making his voice sound nasally. Tommy slaps his hand away. “You’re being very mean, Wilby.”
Wilbur pouts. “But you’re so easy to be mean to.”
“I am going to kill you and make it hurt,” Tommy threatens.
Wilbur looks up, as if posing for an invisible camera. “You could never take me down.”
“Wil by—”
“Would you rather I be nice?” Wilbur asks.
A rush of emotions he could only group as love crashes through the rocks in his chest. “NO!” he screeches.
By his tone of voice alone, Wilbur decides to keep going. “Oh, Toms, you’re so sweet. Honestly, you’re the sunshine of my life.”
Tommy lifts off the ground, ready to launch himself at Wilbur to get him to shut up, but Wilbur catches him in his arms and pulls him closer. “Awww, all he wants to do is come back to his big brother.”
Tommy wiggles in Wilbur’s hold, but his brother doesn’t let go. Instead, he starts running his fingers through Tommy’s hair, successfully sapping all of the energy out of him. He slumps on top of Wilbur, still mildly annoyed.
“Is Toms sleepy?” Wilbur teases.
Tommy buries his face into Wilbur’s sweater. “You stop your magic, and I’ll bounce right back up.”
“Magic?” Wilbur asks, pretending to be oblivious as he continues to stroke Tommy’s hair.
Tommy hums. “Magic.”
The arm Wilbur has curled around him tightens. “I love you,” he says suddenly.
Tommy feels like he could sink into the warmth forever. It was a never ending rush when he was around Wilbur. Every time he glanced at him, Tommy would be sent a fond smile along with whatever look Wilbur wanted to communicate. It leaves him breathless.
“Me too, Wilby,” Tommy sighs. He used to be embarrassed to use that nickname. Now, it was as easy as breathing. Wilbur liked to be very reserved around people he didn’t know that well, so it was extra special when Wilbur chose Tommy to give the key of his heart to.
“You know that you are the only person that calls me that?” Wilbur whispers.
Tommy’s eyelids weigh him down. “Really?”
“It’s yours.”
His.
//\
“I need Techno.”
Phil’s statement mostly goes ignored in favor of Wilbur trying to pour water over Tommy’s head. It honestly proved his point.
Tommy screeches as a drop of water lands on him. He jumps across the living room to Phil and hides behind him. Wilbur has an evil glint in his eye, holding the water bottle as if it was the most dangerous weapon.
“Save me, Phil,” Tommy says, voice edging on laughing hysterically.
“Get away from Tommy, Phil,” Wilbur warns, inching closer.
“Wil, put the water down,” Phil tries to say.
Wilbur suddenly jumps, squeezing the bottle and splashing both Phil and Tommy with water. Tommy hops away, giggling as he runs to get a water bottle to splash Wilbur back with.
Phil sighs. There was no peace with them. And to think he had just wanted to hang out.
Wilbur runs back into the living room first, doing exactly what Tommy did a moment ago: use Phil as a human shield.
Tommy runs in, and it appears that he had poked a hole through the cap of the water bottle and was now squirting it in Wilbur’s general direction.
Also Phil’s direction, but who cares about him, right?
As much as he likes to pretend to be annoyed, Phil can’t help but grin. These kids weren’t even his, and they were going to be the death of him.
Well, until Tommy sprayed water directly into his face.
Phil’s mouth flies open and he looks at Tommy— and yeah, the little shit did that on purpose. Phil rips away from Wilbur’s hold, and runs into the kitchen, where a pack of water bottles sit. Phil takes one and, using a pencil, punctures a hole in the top.
“Where is that little shit?” Phil laughs, waving his water in the air.
He aims it at Tommy, who screeches and runs behind Wilbur, who had previously been aiming water at him. Wilbur looks unimpressed, like he was going to sell Tommy out any second, but then—
“Save me Wilby!” Tommy laughs, gripping tightly to the back of Wilbur’s shirt.
Phil can see the exact moment Wilbur’s mind changes. His shoulders slump a little before he holds himself up again. “I can’t let you do this, Phil.”
Phil would really hate to break up such a close friendship, but he had water and a vengeance.
Safe to say, Phil’s living room was soaked as well as its occupants. The three of them had collapsed on the kitchen stools, wanting to leave the couch to dry on its own.
“So,” Phil starts, a mug of hot tea in his hands. “Remind me to never invite you to my house again.”
Wilbur rolls his eyes. “You're exaggerating, it wasn’t that bad.”
Tommy glances at Wilbur. “Did you forget—”
Tommy falls silent, leaving Wilbur to read the rest of his expression. Wilbur’s face blanches, Tommy snorts, and then they both turn to Phil, sheepish expressions on their faces.
Phil is unimpressed. “What did you do?”
“Listen, Phil. Say, hypothetically—”
Tommy cuts Wilbur off. “How much is that one ugly vase in your bathroom?”
Wilbur sighs. “Who even puts vases in their bathrooms?”
“You broke my vase.”
Tommy shakes his head vehemently. “No, we got you an opportunity to redecorate.”
Wilbur laughs out loud, and Tommy looks pleased at his joke. God, they really were brothers, weren’t they?
“Please take the opportunity,” Tommy adds.
Phil just sighs. “You two are giving me gray hairs.”
“You give yourself those,” Wilbur says.
“You’re balding too, Wilbur,” Tommy points out.
“Because of you,” Wilbur says.
“No—”
“I’m on your side, Phil.” Wilbur pleads.
Phil shakes his head. “You’re not. The moment Tommy says ‘Wilby’, you two are a team.”
Tommy’s eyes sparkle, while Wilbur just turns red. “That— That is not true.”
Tommy snorts, bumping shoulders with Wilbur. “Admit it, brother. You love me.”
“I hate you,” Wilbur insists.
“He will name his firstborn after me,” Tommy declares.
“Sit down,” Wilbur huffs.
“I’m literally alreadying sitting,” Tommy snarks.
Wilbur puts his head in his hands. “Could you at least tell your personality to sit down? ‘Cause I can imagine it standing on the table and begging me to listen to it.”
“I can do that,” Tommy hums, climbing on top of his chair. Wilbur immediately wraps his arms around Tommy’s legs, causing him to lose balance. Tommy yelps, almost falling backwards.
“Sit down or I’ll throw you off.”
Phil does not want to take another trip to the ER. “Please don’t.”
“Let go of me first!”
Wilbur looks dubious, but he lets go. Tommy laughs, moving to climb onto the table, but then Wilbur locks his arms around Tommy’s legs again and pulls him away. Tommy falls to the floor, and all Wilbur does is point and laugh.
Tommy narrows his eyes. “I just wanted to have fun, bitch.”
Wilbur extends his arm. “We had fun when he trashed Phil’s living room”
Tommy takes it and pulls himself up. “You’re no fun.”
Wilbur ruffles Tommy’s hair harshly, and the boy pulls away with a wince. “Stop hanging out with me, then,” Wilbur teases.
Tommy lands back in his seat. “I just might.”
Wilbur presses his hand to his heart. “You’ve hurt me.”
Tommy smiles one of his quiet smiles., ducking his head. “And who’s fault is that, bitch?”
“Tommy—“
“Wilby—“
Wilbur suddenly gasps. “Oh my god I’ve been healed!”
Tommy shoves at Wilbur, but they were both smiling, and neither can deny it because Phil was a witness to all.
//\
Jack likes to host gatherings in his house. He invites all of his friends, like they were all on a late night discord call, except it was in person.
Tommy has fun. Throughout the entire night, he laughs with stars in his eyes and feels lighter than he has in ages.
“I think I was in the right to punch the child,” Jack says.
“I’m not a child!” Tommy all but whines. Wilbur snickers beside him.
“I could have been talking about Tubbo, you know,” Jack grins.
Tommy crosses his arms. “But no one calls Tubbo a child, only me.”
“Wait, can we get back to the part where you punched him?” Ranboo asks.
“It hurts,” Tommy emphasizes.
“Okay, okay,” Jack says. “To be fair, he wouldn’t stop cursing me out.”
“He deserved it,” Tommy huffs. “Wouldn’t stop talking about his new setup.”
“I don’t think that’s a good enough reason,” Niki laughs.
“It was.”
“Was it?” Wilbur questions.
Tommy turns to glare at him. “Don’t you fucking start too, bitch.”
Wilbur laughs, causing Tommy to grin back at him. “I will kill you.”
“Don’t get blood on the carpet,” Jack calls.
“Shut the fuck up, ye stupid bitch,” Tommy says, leaning heavily into his accent. Jack responds in the same way.
So— yeah, he was having fun, but it was nearing three hours of constant chatter, and Tommy was getting tired. He leans back against the couch, not shouting as much as he had been before.
“I think that sloths should just fucking get the natural selection treatment. I mean come on, how long does this take?” Wilbur was saying.
“I like sloths, I think they’re quite nice,” Jack says earnestly.
“Because you can relate to them,” Niki coughs into her shoulder.
Tommy giggles at Jack’s offended expression. “Maybe we should naturally select you, Jack.”
Wilbur bursts into laughter beside him. “He has a point,” he says as soon as he catches his breath.
“I don’t appreciate all this slander,” Jack huffs. “If I’m a sloth, you’re a raccoon.”
“That has nothing to do—”
“He’s looked through my trash before, actually,” Ranboo points out.
“What?” Jack demands.
Tommy rushes to defend himself. “In my defense—”
“Tommy?” Niki asks.
“Forget it,” Wilbur shakes his head. “You can’t get out of this one.”
So Ranboo launches into a completely biased version of a story that included sushi, a ball, and Tesco’s. Tommy waits for his version of the story to finish, mostly because every time he wants to jump up to say something, Wilbur puts his hand on his arm and gives him a warning glance.
“That is disgusting,” Niki says as soon as Ranboo has finished.
“Lies.” Tommy declares.
“How will your version be any better?” Jack asks.
So Tommy starts his own story, and— yeah, it doesn’t look good. As soon as he finishes, Tommy leans back, a bit tired of speaking.
“That is so not true,” Ranboo says. “That sushi was already expired, man.”
“Expired sushi isn’t that bad,” Wilbur hums.
“Wilbur,” Niki starts slowly. “Please tell me you haven’t had expired sushi before.”
Wilbur shrugs. “I turned out alright, didn’t I?”
Tommy lets his head fall on Wilbur’s shoulder as he smiles. “That actually explains a lot,” Tommy says.
Wilbur gasps. “How dare you?”
“We all know that you are the least normal person here,” Jack laughs.
“I would argue that it would be Tommy,” Ranboo insists.
Tommy draws his brows together. “What’s wrong with me?”
“How do I even start?” Ranboo asks.
As the night gets deeper, the chatter around the room warps in Tommy’s brain, making it sound more echo-y. Wilbur puts his arm around Tommy’s shoulders, and Tommy can feel his Big Brother Mode turn on. It happens whenever Tommy takes a step back from something, looks to Wilbur for help, or, like in this moment, when Tommy gets tired.
Tommy turns his face into Wilbur’s sweater, lazily watching the conversation go on. Wilbur’s voice floods his brain whenever he speaks, the vibrations strumming in his chest and into the ear that it is pressed against.
“Just ask him,” Jack finally says. “Tommy, how much caffeine do you consume in a day?”
“Like,” Tommy starts. He cranes his head to look up at Wilbur, like he’s only addressing him. “A coke? Sometimes two, and coffee in the morning,” he says quietly.
Wilbur gives him a smile. He turns back to the conversation, and Tommy curls up on the couch, leaning his full weight on Wilbur. Wilbur’s other arm comes around him, and Tommy is filled with an overwhelming feeling of safety that he has to hide his face in Wilbur’s sweater for a moment.
“You tired?” Wilbur whispers to him.
“But we’re having fun,” Tommy says.
Wilbur runs a hand through Tommy’s hair. “You’re about to fall asleep, Toms.”
“‘M awake, Wilby,” Tommy insists.
He doesn’t notice that the others have fallen silent until Jack speaks. “... you call him Wilby?”
Tommy turns to glare at Jack. “So?”
Jack puts his hand up. “Nothing. It’s just— it’s sweet.”
“I’m not sweet,” Tommy grumbles.
Wilbur laughs. “You’re not really helping your case.”
“Fuck you, bitch.”
“That’s no way to treat your big brother,” Wilbur murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear.
“Can I call you Wilby?” Jack asks. And— in any other situation, Tommy would know that Jack was joking, especially with how he laughs after posing the question. But right now, Tommy was hazy with sleep and ready to protect what was his.
“No,” Tommy says immediately, sitting up from the couch. “You can’t call him that.”
“Sorry—”
“No,” Tommy insists. “Only I call him Wilby. He’s not yours.”
Jack is half-laughing as he says his next words. “I’m not trying to take him from you—”
“Good,” Tommy glares. “Because he’s mine, and— and you just can’t.”
Arms snake around Tommy’s waist, pulling him back towards Wilbur. Wilbur giggles in his ear as Tommy settles back down.
“What?” Tommy demands at Wilbur’s giggles.
“You did good, love,” Wilbur says. “I’m only laughing because Jack is an idiot.”
Tommy hums, satisfied, unaware of the laughter of the other two people in the room.
“Next time remind me not to get on sleepy Tommy’s bad side,” Jack grins. “I did not need to be threatened.”
Wilbur laughs again. “You had it coming.”
“I thought we were friends,” Jack sniffs, pretending to be hurt.
“That’s not enough. You still wouldn’t be Tommy.” Wilbur says matter-of-factly.
“What if our parents married each other and I got upgraded to brother? Could I say it then?” Jack tries.
“Give it up,” Ranboo sighs.
“I want to say it,” Jack insists.
“Please don’t,” Wilbur says. “It’s reserved for a very special man.”
And, as if it wasn’t clear enough who that was, Wilbur presses a small kiss to Tommy’s temple.
Wilbur clicks the seatbelt on, but doesn’t start the car.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Tommy tells him.
Wilbur grins. “No— it’s just— you're sweet, man.”
Tommy groans. “I just got in the car you, sappy, sappy, man.”
“I’m talking about earlier,” Wilbur laughs. “When you yelled at Jack.”
“Prick deserved it,” Tommy mutters.
“You’ve got to be nicer to people,” Wilbur says.
Tommy clicks his tongue. “When was I ever known for being nice to people?”
“You’re nice to me,” Wilbur points out.
“Is it too late to un-brother you?”
“As if you could run from me now,” Wilbur snorts. And because he could, he leans forwards and presses a kiss to Tommy’s cheek.
Tommy pulls away from him. “Just drive, please.”
“I love you.”
“If you don’t drive right now I’m going to never call you Wilby again.”
Wilbur drives home, aware of the heart beating in his chest and the similar one in Tommy’s. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt as much as he had before Tommy.
[Wilby? Is that your nickname?
Yeah, that’s what—
Can I call you Wilby?
Please don’t, that’s reserved for a very special man]