who? (Trans Wilbur)

sixteen | woohoo 3/3 family members have landed on his doorstep

warnings: just mentions of fighting, injury, and blood. nothing heavy

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Tommy waited for a few moments before an admittedly pretty irritated-looking Wilbur stared at him through the peephole before unlocking.

"What the fuck." Wilbur had his arms crossed. His eye bags were prominent and his hair was messed up.

"Me and Techno fought," Tommy blurted.

"Oh, for fuck's sake-" Wilbur grabbed Tommy's shirt and pulled him into the apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Tommy stumbled but regained his balance, staring up at the taller brother with large, round eyes. Before letting Wilbur get too much angrier, Tommy rolled up his hoodie sleeve to reveal the large bandages across his arm, then he pulled his collar to the side to show how far they stretched over his shoulder.

"You physically fought?" Wilbur exclaimed, pulling Tommy over to the couch.

"Well, no, but he pushed me and I fell on the vase," Tommy mumbled, fidgeting with his hands. "Can I stay? I-I-I'm kind of scared to be at home. I'm really worried about him, but I've just never had to help either of you with something like that, and he won't tell me-"

"You can stay," Wilbur agreed quietly. "It's okay, I get a little scared when he's hurt, too. He's big bad brother Blade, right? You never imagine him as being fragile."

"And he wouldn't let me help him," Tommy said, voice muffled when Wilbur pulled him into a hug. He grasped the fabric roughly, tugging his face into the taller brother's shoulder. "I don't know what to do. If I can't help him, what's the point? That's all I know how to do."

"Tom, your personal value isn't weighted by how much you can help us," Wilbur explained. "You're your own person."

"I know, but so are you," Tommy said, pulling away for a second to make eye contact. "That's why I have to help, because you feel things, too."

"I'd have better feelings if you took care of yourself," Wilbur retorted. "Now, did you bring anything with you?"

Tommy dropped his backpack off of one shoulder. "Yeah, some stuff. Phone, like, three clothing changes, toothbrush, you know, the shit."

"Your three clothing changes are gonna have me pressed to remember how to do laundry," Wilbur teased. He moved over to a slim closet, fetching out a blanket and pillow. He tossed them onto the couch.

"You know I'm more than willing to wear the same set of clothes for four days," Tommy drawled in response.

"I'm not willing to have my apartment smell like tommygas." Wilbur grabbed his brother's toiletries and put them away before returning.

"The fuck is tommygas?" Tommy pulled a face. "Should I be insulted?"

"tommygas is what you might call pheromones for the women, but what the rest of us would call teenager stench," Wilbur explained.

"So I should be insulted." Tommy grunted, plopping down on the couch. Wilbur followed more slowly.

"You should take showers and change clothes daily," Wilbur retorted. He checked the time on his phone. "We have time for you to either play shitty mobile games for a few hours or watch a movie before I feel obligated to go to sleep. Which do you pick?"

"Movie. Up." Tommy bounced on the couch.

"We are not watching fucking Up," Wilbur sneered, turning on the TV. "I have the entire script burned into my brain and I hate it."

"Then let's watch Central Intelligence and see who gets uncomfortable first," Tommy replied, settling further into the cushions. Wilbur rolled his eyes and selected it.

"Tommy, I'm the master of always being uncomfortable. Some movie won't bother me," Wilbur said.

"I'm sure," Tommy snarked, watching the introductory sequence. He'd seen this movie three times before, not nearly as much as Up, but still plenty of times. He'd watched it once when he was eight, before promptly getting told to go to his room by a panicked Phil upon seeing the bloody scenes. He got to see it not two months later when Phil left Techno and Wilbur to babysit him, and Tommy begged the older pair to let him watch it. Neither gave a shit, so they turned on the TV while Wilbur made box mac-and-cheese and Techno made sure Tommy didn't smash anything during the movie. The final time was about a year previous, when Tommy had the whole family at the couch so that Phil felt obligated to stay while he pointed out the most graphic or gross scenes.

"This is a challenge you should really save for Phil," Wilbur continued. "You know how much he hates this movie."

"Yeah, well, Phil's a bit busy dealing with Techno, so I'll have to settle for you." Tommy shrugged. "Wilbur! Look! Naked boy sings in shower!"

"Tommy, I've seen this movie more than you have. I know what happens," Wilbur responded. "Tom! Look! Naked boy gets thrown out into the gym during a schoolwide assembly! They called him Weird-Dick! Wow!"

"Then he gives him the letterman jacket, like a good main character," Tommy sighed.

After a while of silence, Tommy blurted out his thoughts again. "Bob Stone! Gosh, I love guns and unicorns, too."

"I can see why he changed his name," Wilbur drawled.

"Wil! He beat the shit out of those fuckers! Mans shoulda backflipped his way outta that one," Tommy said, cockily wrapping his arm around Wilbur's shoulder.

They stopped commentary after that point, instead just opting to watch in silence and enjoy the film. That was, until the infamous interrogation scene came on.

"Ugh, the fuckin' fingers, that's immoral," Wilbur groaned, covering his eyes.

"Look who got uncomfortable first!" Tommy teased in a sing-song voice.

"Whatever, I'm going to bed. I have work in the morning," Wilbur said, yawning.

"We haven't even finished the movie!" Tommy protested.

"I noticed." Wilbur stretched. "You can go to bed whenever, I don't give a shit, just don't wake me up by being stupid. Unfortunately, I do have to support myself financially."

"L." Tommy smirked. He turned down the volume of the movie to the lowest setting. "Proper sleep schedules are shit. Maybe I'll be awake when you get home from work, maybe I'll still be sleeping."

"You twat," Wilbur grumbled. "Dancin' around with no responsibilities. You better fix that shit before Monday, because I'm still not letting you go uneducated."

"Wil," Tommy whined, dragging out the word. "You skipped the entirety of college, why can't I skip a few days of normal school?"

"It's gonna bite you when you get back and have days and days of make-up work," Wilbur warned. "And Phil will fucking kill me."

"Damn. I'll educate myself, but only for your longevity," Tommy conceded.

"Wow, you care more about my lifespan than I do," Wilbur joked dryly.

"Okay, go sleep, fuckhead," Tommy dismissed. "I'll be asleep at, uh, some point. I'll try not to destroy the apartment while you're at work."

"You'd better not," Wilbur replied lightheartedly. "And again, no two am pot banging. I like my sleep schedule normal enough."

"If course you would." Tommy sighed. "Night."

"Goodnight, little shit."

The light to Wilbur's bedroom shut off, leaving Tommy shrouded in faint lamplight as the movie continued to play quietly. He liked the break so far; nobody was fighting, nobody was pretending that everything was normal, and nobody was misgendering Wilbur behind his back on accident, then being weird if it got corrected. (He's looking at you, Phil.)

After Tommy finished the movie, he turned off the TV and sat in silence for about ten minutes, just thinking. Maybe everyone really would be okay.

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