Tommyinnit Oneshots

Mentors

Will I ever stop writing Tommy and Wilbur in a brotherly relationship? No. Enjoy.

TW: Swearing

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"Having a mentor in the high school is an incredibly valuable experience, I hope you all take advantage of this opportunity." With that, the explanation of the Mentorship Program was finished. The principal stepped down from her place behind the podium and the fifth grade was dismissed from the auditorium to go to lunch.

"This mentor thing is so stupid," Tommy grumbled as he and Tubbo were pushed along the hallway of other fifth-graders, the noise of shouting and slamming lockers nearly deafening.

"But you'd get to be friends with a high-schooler!" Tubbo exclaimed, pulling on Tommy's arm. "Who wants to be friends with a fuckin' high schooler?! They're mean and they think they're funny when they're not. Oh, and they smell bad."

"But what about Schlatt?"

Tommy paused, glare deepening. With a scoff, he said, "Schlatt is the exception. Schlatt is the funniest person alive and smells very good."

"I don't get your obsession with him," Tubbo chuckled fondly. "Everyone tells me he's mean and interrupts class a lot."

"You put those words back in your mouth!" Tommy cried, playing up his reaction because Tubbo was giggling at it and thought it was so funny when Tommy got angry.

"Fine, fine. Schlatt is the nicest and funniest and best-smelling person out there."

"That's better."

"... Except for Wilbur Soot."

It was Tommy's turn to groan. "Why Wilbur? You could pick anyone to idolize, and you choose the kid who wears sweaters every day and sings about girls on the internet?"

"Have you heard his songs?! They're amazing! He's practically famous!"

If this were a cartoon, Tubbo's eyes would be great big hearts in the middle of his face, his smile shaped like a capital D (Although he seemed to actually have that smile on in real life).

"Whatever you say, Tubbo," Tommy patted his friend's head and let out an overly exasperated sigh as his short friend began a tangent Tommy had heard a hundred times about Wilbur's music being "mellifluous" (a word the boy had read on the internet and, because of his dyslexia, hadn't read it right and now mispronounced it every time he said it, something Tommy didn't have the heart to correct).

---

"I hope I get Wilbur," Tubbo whispered to Tommy who was sat next to him in the auditorium, a few rows further back than their seats from a few days ago.

"I hope I get Schlatt," Tommy whispered back. To his surprise, he was actually excited about this even though he had thought it was stupid when the principal had explained the program.

"I don't see why they can't just post a list on the bulletin board, why do we have to wait for everyone's partner to be announced?"

Tubbo nodded in agreement.

"Wanna play a game?"

Thirty minutes later after God-knows how many rounds of little hand games to pass the time, they got to Tommy and Tubbo, whose names were always next to each other in alphabetical order (it was how they had become friends in kindergarten).

"Tom Simons? Your partner is Wilbur Soot. Wilbur, Tommy, please stand up."

Tommy stood up with a groan and looked over to the section where the high schoolers were sitting, seeing that giant, lanky teenager rise out of the sea of heads and do a matching search through the crowd for his mentoree. When they met eyes, Tommy glared and sent as much hatred as he could muster Wilbur's way, while the other just waved.