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"Did you get home safe?" Tommy asks, kicking his legs idly on his bed. There's a crackly sigh that comes from his phone, along with the sound of a door clicking shut. He peers down at the call just to be sure, and yep, finds himself looking at a hardwood floor. Doesn't mean he doesn't need to hear it.
"Yes, I got home safe." Wilbur replied, so used to it by now that he doesn't even try to tease, just shrugs off his boots by the door.
"Did you forget anything? Your wallet? Your glasses? Your pen? Anything?"
The older shakes his head fondly, easing his coat off and into the closet. "No, lovely. You don't need to worry so much, you know." He can hear the frown in his voice as he shifts around, propping the phone up so that he has full view of his face. Also the slightest bit of Walter's ears, from where the younger is scratching them gently.
"Are you mad? Of course I do. I love you."
Like this, he doesn't bother to hide the way he relaxes at those words, padding over to the couch to flop down on it. He then turns to the screen, tapping at it obnoxiously just to make up for the fact that they aren't together. "Yeah, whatever. Just so you know, I am currently holding your hand as we speak."
Tommy rolls over so that he's looking at him from upside down, Walter lifting his head when his hand stops. "Thanks, bro. But I think Walter might get jealous."
"He's a dog. I'm your brother. Tell Walter to suck it up." He points out, raising his eyebrows a bit.
The younger sniffs, raising his head just a little to see said dog, who has rested his chin on his stomach in a clear attempt to get his hand back. Instead of doing so, he just flops his head back down, blowing up the curls that fall in front of his eyes. "Asshole."
Wilbur hums, picking up a pen from the table to fiddle with it, turning it around in his fingers and resisting the urge to nibble on it despite knowing he'll only get slightly teased. "I'll send you my hoodies." He murmurs softly, smiling when the other blinks in surprise.
"You would?" He presses, voice toning down gently.
He hums an affirmative, watching him intently. The younger chews on the inside of his cheek, the tips of his ears turning warmer just a bit, as they always do when he's flustered. Without even thinking, he reaches a hand out, making a grabby motion. "Awh, Wil, you're so- why do you have to be so far away? I blame you for my clinginess, you've somehow corrupted me."
Tommy says it like he's annoyed, but it's painfully obvious how he's not. Wilbur sighs, twisting so he has his cheek pressed to the arm of the couch. "You can visit me, you know. When the distance is too much. You do it enough to Tubbo, don't make me the odd one out."
The corners of his mouth pull up, and Walter stands up, scampering out of the room when it becomes clear that he's not getting any of Tommy's attention anytime soon. All of that, at the moment, belongs to Wilbur.
The younger scowls, "I miss you all the time, so, that's not possible."
His breath catches; eyes fluttering closed. This is too much for him to deal with, ever. The warmth that builds in his chest and yet has no way to let it out, making his fingers shake is just- he's just endeared. Charmed, even. That he found someone like Tommy, who sticks with him, always present and always worrying and always good, like coming home after a long day. He'll never get used to it, and he doesn't want to.
"Oh, sweetheart. You're too good to me." One of his eyes open. "Go jump off a cliff."
Tommy splutters, swearing up a storm as he laughs, hiding his face in the couch. If there's one thing that throws a sappy TommyInnit off his trail better than anything, it's death threats.
--
When he reaches out for Tommy's hand, and he grasps it automatically, not embarrassed in the slightest at holding his hand in public, he has to stop and think for a moment, yes, this is love.
It's not impossible, love that is. It's just impossible that it happened to him.
"Your hands are really cold," he says instead, like a coward, tugging at his hand so that they both stop. Tommy looks up at him, eyebrows raised.
"So? Your house is cold. You should be used to it." Wilbur rolls his eyes at the comment, ducking down so that he can press their joined hands to his lips. When he flicks his eyes up, he can see the younger staring at him, caught in some sort of daze that he quickly shakes out of, averting his eyes. "Thanks."
He hums, kissing his cold nose, and then drawing back. "Of course, lovely."
The younger has that look on his face as he stares up at him, like he's looking at his world, and it warms him so much that he has to look away, taking a deep breath. He doesn't mention it when Tommy shuffles closer, and he wraps him up inside his coat. It's just love, after all.
--
Tommy plops down on the couch, scooting over so that they're pressed together. He doesn't even think before pulling some of the blanket over onto him, the younger's cheek falling against his shoulder. "Can I have a bite of your brownie?"
Ah, of course. "I thought you said you weren't hungry." He poked, even as he moved the brownie over. The younger rolled his eyes, taking a bite with a hum as he pulled the brownie away.
He swallowed, wiping his mouth, and then said: "That was earlier, Wil. Things change."
"How silly of me. Of course." Tommy nodded and he laughed, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him closer. "What do you want to watch, sweet thing?"
"Disney," he answered automatically, and Wilbur sighed. Of course, he had forgot that this was a child whom he had welcomed into his home. What a terrible, dastardly mistake of his. The younger moved his head against his chest, pressing his feet into his ankle. What a brat, his feet were cold.
"Tommy," he whined, dragging him further away from the world and more into him. "Why can't we ever watch something I want to? Frankly, I'm getting quite sick of Disney."
A bony elbow shoved his stomach, but he barely felt it. He was weak.
"Call me back when you cancel your Disney+ subscription. I know you only got it for me."
Wilbur blinked, brushing a curl behind the younger's ear, his fingers buzzing as they lingered. "Well, of course. I love you."
That certainly ceased all talking. He grinned, giggling happily, not perturbed by the hands that batted him away. Oh, he thought cheerfully, the impact we have on each other.
He sighed, faux-exasperated, "Fine, child, what Disney movie do you want to watch?"
Tommy gasped happily, instantly forgoing any resentment he had in favor of gripping onto him tightly, talking a mile a minute. Damn, why he'd have to pick a kid who had him so wrapped around his finger? It was simply unfair.
--
"Ash says you brag about me."
Tommy twirled a curl around his finger, staring back at him when he blinked his eyes open from their relaxed state, his head resting on the younger's knee. "Well, of course. You're you, Tommy, am I not supposed to?"
The younger spluttered, pressing his hands over his eyes. "Shush, shush. Stop right now."
With an amused hum, he tilted his head until his chin was rested on the younger's hand instead, peering up at him. "No, seriously. You're one of the brightest, sweetest, most funniest kids I know. You're truly remarkable, and I love you, not only for that."
Tommy scrunched up his nose, "Shut up. I love you too."
Wilbur laughed, pulling himself up so that he could press their foreheads together. The younger settled, his hands falling to his shoulders with a pleased hum. After a moment, he spoke up. "Okay, now keep playing with my hair. I don't pay you by wasting time."
He got punched for that, but it was so worth it just to hear him laugh.
--
"What are you working on?" Wilbur asked, dropping onto the couch next to Tommy, who pushed away his laptop in favor of making grabby hands at the plate of fruit he had. He rolled his eyes before handing it over, peering at the screen of his laptop. "Ah, new video for the inniters?"
A socked feet kicked him in his hip, a disgruntled glare meeting him. "Ew, Wil, don't call them that. You're almost as bad as Twitter."
"Am not." He responded, leaning over to fix the younger's hair.
He paused for a fraction of a second, just staring at his hand, before running a hand through his hair to mess it up again (much to his dismay), his free hand popping a slice of fruit into his mouth gleefully. Wilbur eyed him scornfully.
"I swear, the more I dote on you the more mean you get." Tommy laughed, bending over, and the older pushed him back gently with a press on his knee.
The younger tilted his head, eyeing him with a massive grin, "Hm, take me to an art museum and I'll be nice."
"Thought you said those were boring," Wilbur pointed out, leaning over him to steal a slice, sticking his tongue out at the glare he got in return.
Tommy put his foot against his shoulder, and tried to push him back- to no avail. "Oh, they are. But I figured, you like those, yeah? 'S fine then if I go with you." He shrugged, like that was the most obvious thing in the world, and the older sighed, shaking his head fondly as he shouldered his leg off.
"That's sweet, Tommy. You're being sweet." He rested his chin on the younger's knee, tracking his movements absentmindedly.
"I know. I'm never sweet on accident. What do I look like, a loser?"
Tommy reached out, poking his nose. He let him, charmed without his consent at the teenager in front of him.
"Okay." He reached out to nip at his finger, making the younger draw it back ten times faster. Wilbur grinned. "I'll take you to an art museum. But don't complain if you get bored."
--
Tommy tilted his head, still staring at the painting as the older eventually joined him. "I don't get it."
The older sighed, shaking his head, throwing an arm around the younger's shoulder and towing him out of the room. "Come on, let's go get some ice cream. I told you so."
He waited a second or two to catch his bearings, walking step in step with him, until he replied. "What do you mean? I thought that that place was very... fascinating, yes. Nerds like you would enjoy it a lot, I'm sure."
"No complaining!" He reminded, opening his umbrella as they stepped outside, the rain making a light pattering sound as it hit the top of the fabric.
The younger rolled his eyes, stepping closer when the older made more room for him. "Boo. Whatever. Can I pay this time?"
"No."
"Yes?"
"No. You know, some kids like being spoiled." Wilbur squeezed his shoulder lightly, stepping over a puddle, the younger doing the same thing. "I think you're the 0.1% in the world."
Tommy grinned cheekily up at him, "Does that mean I'm unique?"
He stared down at him unimpressed. "No, that means you're a freak."
His expression immediately morphed into a scowl, purposely kicking his feet into a puddle just to make the older annoyed. "You're no fun. This is why Techno is a better brother than you."
The two stopped, the younger staring up at the older in confusion, who was glaring at him. "Take it back."
"Can't. My mum taught me not to lie." The two stayed in a staring contest for about five seconds, before Wilbur turned away, starting to walk away. "Fine, no ice cream for you."
Immediately, his whole demeanor changed, Tommy scrambling after him. "Wait- wait- no, Wil, I'm sorry, don't be petty man-"
--
He got woken up to the sound of his phone going off, staring up blankly at his ceiling for a couple seconds before rolling over, scrambling over until he grabbed it. He didn't even bother looking to see who it was before he hit accept. "'Ello?"
"Hi." Wilbur answered. There was the faint sound of wind behind him. "I saw a dog. It made me think of you."
It took him a bit to comprehend that sentence, but when he did he turned so that he could see the faint silhouette of Walter peacefully sleeping at the end of his bed. Unlike him.
"My dog says hi."
The older hummed, the two delving into a comfortable silence. He was half-asleep again before he realized something. "Wait, are you outside?"
A pause. "No."
Tommy frowned, shifting so that he was sitting up, careful not to disturb his dog. "Don't lie, Wil. Not to me. Where are you? What are you doing? Are you safe? Are you hurt? Are you-"
Wilbur shushed him gently, stopping his tangent in an instant. "My love, I'm alright. Just woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. Decided to take a walk. I am in a park, I am safe, and no, lovely, I am not hurt. I told you, you don't need to worry about me."
"It's- it's justified." He stressed, finally relaxing. From outside his window, he could see the beginning of the sun starting to rise, and belatedly realized that it had to have been pretty early. "I'm allowed, aren't I?"
The older laughed lightly, "Of course. But I'm the older brother, that's supposed to be my job."
He made a 'hmph' sound, squeezing the phone as if it was his hand. Walter stirred for a moment, but easily settled back down when Tommy started petting him with his foot. "If I give you my mum's banana bread recipe, will you go back home?"
"It's a deal if you stay on call with me the whole time."
Tommy smiled despite himself, tilting his head back. "Clingy."
"Be quiet, I think there's a person across the street trying to kidnap me. I'm going to scare them off with my ridiculous height. Hold the line, darling." Why did he get stuck with him? It didn't make any sense whatsoever. Not that he was specifically against it, but, well...
--
"Do you want my leftovers?"
Tommy hummed an affirmative, doodling on the edge of the calendar that his mum finally took down since it was wrong by a year or two. He didn't even notice how silent it became until he noticed the sound of a car door opening on the other end, perking up. "Wil?"
"I'm getting in the car right now to give you a hug. Also my leftovers."
The younger blinked, turning to stare at Betty, who seemed to be in as much shock as him. "Wil, you're ridiculous. Care to explain your thought process to me?"
He could practically hear him thinking. "Uh, no."
"No?" Tommy repeated, amused.
"No."
Sighing, he kicked his legs out, trying to shove his fondness away. "When do you think you'll get here?"
"Ask again later." Wilbur pronounced obnoxiously, sounding very well like a magic eight ball. "You make me do stupid things."
The younger laughed, eyes scrunching up. "I didn't ask you to drive all the way here!"
"Die."
He shook his head, sharing a look with Betty that screamed 'what an idiot'. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Anyhow, thank you for bringing me food. And I'm counting on that hug, dickhead."
Tommy could hear the smile in his voice. "You have my word."
--
"Would you take me to Berlin?"
Wilbur made a considering noise, the soft light from the spotlight enveloping him in a cocoon of red. He squeezed his hand where they were joined together on the center console. "If you want to. I've been before, it'd be nice to take you."
He hummed, his head tipped down to press against the cool glass. A couple stops back he had been given the older's hoodie, and a couple minutes ago he had found a blanket, of which was now laying across his lap. "I'd like that."
Without turning his head, the older raised their joined hands, pressing a feather-light kiss to his knuckles. Tommy made a soft noise in the back of his throat, blinking sluggishly at him, the light turning green. Wilbur gently patted his hand before turning his attention back to the road.
I think, he doesn't say, I'd go anywhere with you. If you only asked.
--
Tommy can barely see him like this, only feel him occasionally twitch in his sleep when he traces his fingers over the curve of his cheekbone or ear. It's odd, and vulnerable, and distantly amusing. With each touch, the tender love is packed in small cartons, cases and containers to be parcelled around, kept with the other even when he departs. A contemporary affection.
"Stop that, it tickles." Wilbur said, voice so low that he only heard it because they were pressed together.
He made a small huff sound, poking the spot just below his eye only to annoy him, before the arms tightened around him and rolled them over, so that Tommy was completely trapped in his (albeit, affectionate) hold, hands grasping at his back as his face was shoved into the other. He smelled vaguely of cologne, but he's pretty sure all older brother figures smelled like that, even if they didn't quite have the same comfort as Wilbur did.
"Shush. Buddy, you're art."
The older made an odd choked noise at that, but seemed fine a second later when he spoke up, nudging his head against his to brush his lips against his temple. "Go back to sleep. Idiot."
--
"You're making food for me." Tommy hummed, patting him on the shoulder as he slipped past, the older leaning on the door frame with his eyebrows pinched together in sleepy confusion.
"Mhm. Although it's more just me making a burrito out of scrambled eggs. A breakfast burrito!" He flicked his hand out, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
Wilbur just stared, and stared, then: "Will you still make food for me on Mars?"
The younger slid on the wooden floor in his fuzzy socks, stopping in front of him to drop his elbows on the counter, swaying side to side to an invisible tune. "Sure. If they have any eggs there. Although we'd probably make more progress by bringing a guitar."
"Ukulele?" He added, grinning.
"Keyboard!"
"...Bass."
"And maybe a kazoo?"
Wilbur rolled his eyes, leaning forward to meet his warm gaze, "Yeah, we'll bring that too. Lovejoy on tour on Mars: One night only!" The younger leaned forward, bonking their heads together playfully, before he slid a breakfast burrito on a plate over to him. He eyed it for a moment, tapping his fingers in a beat on the counter, before turning his attention back to the other.
"You didn't have to make food for me," he murmured softly, hand reaching to barely brush his curls back into place beyond his ear, but he still turned into the touch nonetheless.
"I wanted to." He said, matching his tone, quirking an eyebrow. "God, I like taking care of you, Wil, even if it means waking up at ass-crack dawn just to make you some actually good food that will be gone in seconds. Fuckin- 'who has seen the wind'?"
His breath caught but he still finished the quote. "Neither you nor I."
"So you do have a brain in there."
Instead of replying, he just took a bite of the burrito, too tired to pretend that it wasn't good. His hands twitched at his sides, "Oh. Cool. I love you." He reached out, tugging on the younger's shirt (his, maybe?) until the food was placed aside in favor of him wrapping his arms around Tommy. "I want to listen to everything you could possibly say about anything ever. Just because. You."
Tommy sighed, softly, curling his whole body into him. "You'd have to get sick of my voice eventually."
"I couldn't." It was true. "I can try, but I couldn't."
--
"Tommy-"
When hands reached out to try and untangle him, the younger just gripped the arms around Wilbur's waist tighter, face digging in more between his shoulder blades like he was trying to suck himself into his skin. "Shut. Shut it. When's your next practice? I'll try to make it, yeah, I'll try and go."
"You know you're always invited to our practices, Joe'll text you when. But, love, weren't you supposed to be working on editing that new video?"
The younger rolled his eyes, "I don't need a job, I have something much more valuable than that."
"What?"
His voice was slightly muffled, but still came out pleasant, the sweetness cut into strips for Wilbur to chew on, consider, swallow or spit back out? To be or not to be, that is the question, is it not?
"You."
And, okay, maybe he got a little choked up at that. Sue him, he was weak! Either way, he was suddenly finding the arms on his torso very fascinating. "I can't tell if you're deflecting or actually telling the truth. Little shit."
"Would I lie about that?" Tommy nuzzled into him and he melted. "I like watching your smile form throughout the day, and I like being the one who did it. Is that so wrong?"
It's actually a wonder. If the internet knew that Tommy was nearly as good with words to break him apart, then they would have a field day. Wilbur has to sigh, and shake his head, one because it's too damn sappy, and two because he needs to clear away all the mush and regain his filter. Right, he is a functional human being, got to remember that. Very important.
"It's actually very wrong." He managed to break away from the other's death grip on him, turning around only for the younger to shove himself right into his chest again. This time, he merely sighed, twisting a hand in his curls to press him closer. He doesn't exactly know what's got him in such a clingy mode today, but he sure as hell isn't going to complain.
"Die." Tommy squinted up at him and- he couldn't stop laughing. He looked like a fucking bird.
--
“Let’s go on a road trip.”
Wilbur grinned, fondness smoothing down the teasing edges as he pressed the younger’s hair down. “How about we watch a movie first before running away, Mr. Simons?”
The younger rolled his eyes, but moved past the spontaneous thought anyway. “What about Uncharted? I’ve heard that it’s both good and bad.” Tommy shifted up a bit, his nose pressing into his jaw.
The older’s eyes narrowed, “Isn’t Tom Holland in that?”
“But it’s not Mar vel ,” he sing-songed.
He tapped his fingers against the younger’s hairline, considering, Tommy’s eyes fluttering closed at the soothing motion until he finally sighed loudly, fingers pausing. “Fine.”
Tommy grinned, tugging on him eagerly, "Oh, oh, Wil thank you so much. Have I ever mentioned that you're my favorite brother?" He pressed his head into his chest, blinking innocently, but he shoved him away, ignoring the squawk.
"Liar. What does Tom Holland have that I don't?" He wiggled his fingers against his ribs, and the younger squealed, squirming into his chest and kicking at him until he finally stopped.
Thankfully, the younger only huffed from the attack, before finally registering his question. "Oh. One, he's successful. Two, he has good hair. Three, he's hot. Four, he doesn't suck ass like you. Five-"
Wilbur wrinkled his nose, pushing the younger off his lap and also off the couch. The younger screamed as he went down, glaring heatedly at him. "Okay, alright, that's enough. Aren't little brothers supposed to boost your self-esteem, not the other way around? How am I to be expected to be jealous of fucking Tom Holland?"
"Suck it up. Pussy."
--
Tommy automatically reached for his hand but the older, remembering that they were on stream, drew himself away with faux-annoyance.
“Dude.” He deadpanned, looking like he was one more joke about brothers away from just climbing into his lap and falling asleep there. It was both adorable, and entirely hilarious. "Give me your fucking hand."
"No. I think you have rabies."
The younger stared at him for a long moment, before he fucking jumped him. They both went down in a pile of limbs and war cries. It ended up barely five minutes later with Tommy's head in his lap, Wilbur massaging the pad of his fingertips against his scalp. There were so going to be screenshots of this all over Twitter.
And, just because he was annoyed, he had his other clutched in his arms like a fucking teddy bear or something. Wilbur Soot was not a teddy bear, thank you very much.
But also, he loved him, so he let him keep his hand. Even if chat would never get over it.