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Quite frankly, it was shaping up to be a pretty shitty Tuesday. Which was fitting, because it was a fucking Tuesday. Worst day of the week, by far, and it was only getting worse. Wilbur's head and limbs and everything had been throbbing since he woke up this morning, despite having slept a reasonable amount last night, which meant school and rehearsal were going to be deeply unpleasant experiences. Technoblade was no help, either. He just sat there and laughed as Wilbur twisted into pretzels in the passenger seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.
"Wil, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Tommy, who had clearly been holding back the urge to tease his brother for several minutes, finally spoke up from the backseat.
"My everything hurts, gremlin. Unless you want to punch me hard enough to fix it, you can- Wait, NO, don't actually-" Wilbur broke off into a screech as Tommy took him up on the offer of violence. A wave of pain shot from his head, through his shoulder blades, out to his fingertips as he hunched over in his seat breathing heavily.
"Shit, Wil, I'm-" Tommy broke off, sounding concerned. Wilbur, unfortunately, couldn't see what the kid's expression actually was, due to being curled up in a little ball of agony. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was that bad."
Wilbur tried to grunt out a vague statement of forgiveness and surprise that the Tommyinnit would apologize, but he was pretty sure it didn't actually come out as anything coherent. He was proved right when Techno shot him a look, then shushed him.
"Hey, nerd, you gotta stop talkin'. If you vomit in my car I will be kickin' you out onto the street, regardless of how much you hurt. So shhhhhh."
Wilbur grumbled again but quickly shut up when Techno made to pull over to the side of the road. Everything sort of went fuzzy for a bit then. Techno and Tommy faded away into the haze of the radio static and the trees flying past outside. Wilbur felt drifty and lost, like he had forgotten how his own five senses worked and couldn't quite figure out how to start using them again. He stared into the middle distance for what felt like hours, and just as he started to feel a swirling in his stomach, the car came to an abrupt stop and he jolted back into consciousness.
"Okay, Wilbur, we're gettin' out of the car now. Slowly, don't throw up, I don't need that mess in my car, please-"
Wilbur blinked for a long moment, then protested, "But this isn't school, we're back at home! When did you turn around, Tech?"
"At least 20 minutes ago, Wilbur. C'mon, we really gotta get you inside."
Seeing Wilbur struggle to get the car door open, Techno pulled it open from the outside, gingerly grabbed Wilbur under the arms, and pulled him to a standing position. Wilbur began tilting longingly towards the ground as soon as he was left on his own to stand, so Techno locked the car as quickly as possible and grabbed him around the shoulders, proceeding to manhandle him inside the house.
"Wait, Tech- where's Tommy? You left Tommy in the car, Tech, no, we have to get him."
"Tommy's at school, Wilbur. We dropped him off. C'mon, let's get you onto the couch."
"Bullshit, Tech, that didn't happen. I was there, you can't lie to me. You just kept driving for hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and-"
"Okay, Wil, you got me. He's definitely in the car, yep, and I'll go let him out once you're on the couch, resting."
With that ultimatum, Wilbur finally let himself be pushed over to the couch. He made an effort to flop down onto it like a sad little sack of potatoes, but Techno stopped him, for no good reason, making him lay down slowly like a normal person. Boring. Once lying down, he curled up on his side, quickly being covered by a blanket that appeared from above him. Techno was probably saying something right now like, "Wilbur, you've gotta take better care of yourself. Look what I'm doin' for you. Skippin' school, bein' a delinquent. You're ruinin' my reputation," but Wilbur was too tired to use his ears, so he wouldn't know. He settled further into the cushions, feeling the drifty-ness creep back in, and let his eyes slide closed.
Techno sighed, running a hand through Wilbur's mussed-up curls. "Guess I'm making potato soup today instead of doing any homework. Can't believe this loser. Gettin' sick on a Tuesday, imagine." But despite his words, Techno made no move to get up from the couch, instead opting to keep playing with Wilbur's hair until, slowly, his eyes shut as well. And if Phil took about a hundred pictures when he came out of his office and found the two boys sleeping there, Techno slumped into the arm of the couch and Wilbur's head in his lap- well, that was nobody's business but his own.