Chapter Text
Listen, Tommy knew when he was slipping.
After that moment two months ago when Wilbur had caught him watching Paw Patrol - and even the simple thought of the show made his struggle to stay big even trickier right now - he thought he had gotten a pretty good handle over the whole ‘littlespace thing.’ Well, according to Wilbur’s terms he was doing awful, but according to his own terms, he was doing amazing.
Wilbur seemed to think Tommy should let himself slip whenever he wanted, and always go to Wilbur each and every time. Tommy politely disagreed.
Wilbur had explained everything to him. He had gone on and on about how it was a coping mechanism, and it was completely normal and even recommended by several psychologists. He had spoken about how it was safe and even sent Tommy several articles about the topic that Tommy had promised to read and then ‘forgotten’ to do so.
It wasn’t like he didn’t believe Wilbur - if people used this age regression thing to cope, then that was perfectly fine and good on them, but it wasn’t for Tommy. He had always labeled himself as a big man, and there was nothing in his life he needed to cope with. He had two older brothers, and a dad, and several close friends in school. There were so many people who were doing worse than him, who deserved and needed help, and Tommy wasn’t going to act like his life was so hard when so many others had it worse.
It was also just weird. Not for other people, but for him specifically, acting like a little kid. He wasn’t sure how to explain why it was different when it was himself who did it, but it just was. He didn’t like how it made him feel.
Like a burden.
So maybe Wilbur had only seen him little once since that first time, even though he tended to slip several times a week. That one time had been after another stressful day where Tommy had slipped in his room and was unable to prevent himself in his younger mindset from having a rather loud panic attack that had summoned Wilbur to his side.
Wilbur had been so kind and sweet the entire time of course, revealing that he had actually gone and spent money on what he called ‘little gear’ for Tommy after the first time he caught Tommy as a little. There had been blankets and stuffed animals, and chewy toys and a pacifier and other kids toys, and even three outfits that were softer and much more childish than anything Tommy had owned.
Thinking about that made it even harder to stay big, and Tommy rolled onto his side, pulling his blankets more over his head and squeezing his eyes shut. It was almost midnight last time he had taken a glance at his phone screen, and he had school tomorrow so staying up this late really wasn’t ideal, but he was much too tense to actually manage to fall asleep like this.
Tommy knew when he was slipping, and tonight was one of those nights, but if he treated it like he always did - ignoring it, shoving it away - then he could fall asleep and wake up big and everything would be fine.
It would have to be fine. In the end, Tommy grabbed his headphones and plugged them into his phone, turning on some recordings of Wilbur’s music that he had saved. It was always comforting to hear Wilbur’s music no matter how he was feeling or what mindset he was in, so he was hopeful that it would help him fall asleep as well. Even if wearing headphones while lying down wasn’t entirely the most comfortable experience it would certainly be worth it.
Luckily, the music started to do the trick, Tommy’s muscles slowly relaxing even as the fog in his head grew heavier and louder, more demanding. Nonetheless, he was able to fall asleep, drifting off into the void freely.
=^0u0^=
When Tommy woke up, it became very clear very quickly that something was horribly wrong. The first thing he was aware of was how horribly uncomfortable he was, twitching and grimacing as he reached to pull the now silent headphones out of his ears and awkwardly toss them aside. His head was also almost physically painful to be, a mixture of childish fog and panic all sliding awkwardly together that resulted in a horrible headache and a general mixture of confusion.
As he sat up, it became a lot clearer what the specific problem was. His bed was soaked. At first Tommy just quietly wondered if he had spilled something. He sometimes kept water or juice next to his bed, forgetting it was there and falling asleep. It wouldn’t be the first time he knocked it over, and it wouldn’t even be the first time he knocked it over in his sleep.
But it became pretty obvious fairly quickly what had actually occurred. The smell hit him first, acidic and strong. Tommy’s nose wrinkled in disgust, a cringe running down his spine. Then, he realized that all of the dampness was concentrated in a specific area, and…
Well, it became clear. In his sleep, so close to his littlespace and so horribly out of it, Tommy had an accident. He had pissed the bed. Despite being a teenager, someone much too old to have an accident.
Two things happened at once.
Tommy jolted to the side and out of the bed, the blankets coming with him and falling to the ground as he stumbled and tripped, struggling to stay on his feet. There was a clear wet spot on the blankets, a disgusting stain, obvious even in the darkness of the room. Tommy was getting panicked quickly, trying to figure out how he would clean this up, how he would hide it before anyone in his family saw it.
The second that happened was the fog, already lazily crowding his mind like it had nothing better to do, worsened. A lot. It was getting hard to think at all, Tommy nearly having to physically claw his way through the sensation to keep his grip on himself and what he had to do. Despite his best attempts tears were stinging the edges of his eyes, the fog in his mind so certain that if he cried someone would come and help him.
Wilbur. Wilby will help, I dunno what to do -
Tommy shook his head hard, kicking the blankets aside and escaping their grip around his feet and ankles. He was breathing heavily, gasping, and he raised a hand to try and stifle the sound.
He had to stay big. He had to stay big.
It felt like he couldn’t breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and tears escaped against his best efforts, sliding down his face as he shook and trembled.
It took him a few minutes to calm himself down enough to move again - about five minutes rocking back and forth, hands clasped so tightly over his mouth Tommy half-wondered if he was going to bruise himself. Gasping, wheezing for air that struggled to come, eyelashes and cheeks damp with the tears that clung there.
Finally, he got his limbs to move, shaking as he started to rip the sheets from his bed. He could definitely do this a lot more efficiently if he wasn’t panicking, but there was nothing to do on that front.
But fuck, it was dark. He didn’t know how late it was, but it had to be pretty late, the room nearly impossible to see in -
What if there’s something under the bed? A monster, a big scary monster with sharp teeth and stinky breath and claws and he’s angry. He’s angry and he’s going to hurt me, but Wilby can help, he can protect me from the monster -
Tommy lunged for the lamp next to his bedside table, the sheets only half off his bed as he tried to flick it on. Suddenly desperate for the light it could provide him, but he miscalculated. Instead of turning the light on his hand and upper arm collided with the metal, knocking it entirely off the bedside dresser. It hit the ground with a loud crash, glass shattering.
How could literally everything he tried to do go wrong?
Tommy shouted. Not with any words, just a loud angry snarl of frustration as he stumbled back from where the broken light had fallen, tripping and falling himself, backward onto his behind.
It was dark, and it smelled, and he had an accident, and he had to keep being big but he was all alone and he didn’t know what to do -
The door flew open, and the lights suddenly came on all at once. It was enough of a sudden change for Tommy to pull his knees up to his chest, pushing his head there and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “Tommy?”
It was Phil. It was his dad. It was his dad and that should be more than enough to make everything better, but it wasn’t because his dad didn’t know and this situation would only look pathetic to him, so Tommy could only sob harder. It felt like he couldn’t breathe at all. It felt like he was dying, right there and then.
“Tommy,” Phil said again, concern and worry clear in the dip of his voice, his footsteps moving closer, “hey, you’re okay, you’re fine, just breath.” He heard Phil crouching in front of him, his arms are gentle as they settled on either of Tommy’s shoulders, tugging him forwards so that Tommy’s head rested against the warmth of his father’s shoulder.
“Sorry,” Tommy gasped, “sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” It felt like apologizing was all he could do.
“You’re okay,” Phil repeated, “you’re fine, you just need to breathe. Copy me, okay? Copy how I’m breathing, here.” Phil guided Tommy’s hand to his chest, and Tommy could feel each exaggerated breath there.
It was a struggle trying to copy it. Each breath felt like razor blades, and he was gasping and stumbling over each one. But Phil remained patient, coaxing him through it, encouraging words falling from his mouth.
Just as Tommy was starting to feel like maybe he could survive, another body dropped down next to him, a warm shoulder pressing against his. “Hey there, sweetheart,” Wilbur greeted, his voice warm. “You okay there? Had a rough night, mhn? Bad dream?” He was talking in that voice.
That voice you use to talk to young children or babies, and it was making Tommy’s brain go all fuzzy again, and he whined slightly, trying to lean away from Wilbur instead of leaning into him like every one of his instincts was shouting at him to do. “Wilbur?” Phil questioned, and he sounded confused, and that made it all worse. A big reminder that this was weird. That Tommy was being weird.
“Can you run Tommy a bath?” Wilbur questioned. “We can explain everything later, it’s fine. He’s just having a rough night, aren’t you sweetheart?”
That nickname, too. Wilbur was using it as a weapon. Still, it seemed to be enough to convince Phil because his dad hesitantly moved away from him, letting Wilbur tug him closer into his brother's arms instead. Finally, Tommy looked up, eyes red and wet as he squinted into the room.
Wilbur looked tired, his hair was messy, his sleep clothes wrinkled. Tommy must have woken him, but his expression was still gentle as he gazed at Tommy. “Feeling little?”
“No,” Tommy denied, a pained exhale.
Wilbur raised an eyebrow. His brother clearly did not believe him for a second. “Uh huh,” he scoffed, gently, “are you sure about that?” He lifted something in his hand, an object that Wilbur hadn’t noticed beforehand. “Because little you and I have been working really really hard on making your island look all pretty to improve its rating.”
It was his switch, the switch that Tommy had been using to play Animal Crossing on. Tommy’s mouth felt really dry, all of a sudden. “... Not little, don’t need it,” he forced out, his heart feeling like it was breaking apart in his chest.
Wilbur hummed again, pressing the power button on the switch. Tommy watched as it lit up, Wilbur selecting Animal Crossing - logging onto Tommy’s island, right in front of him. He could see some of his villagers walking around in the background, and his fingers twitched with the urge to grab the switch away. “Well, maybe I’ll play some Animal Crossing then -”
“No,” Tommy whined, lunging for the switch. Wilbur let Tommy take it without any argument, the blonde holding it to his chest. “Mine, Wilby.”
“Oh, so you do want to play then, baby?” Wilbur questioned, the perfect picture of innocence. As if he didn’t know what he was doing. As if he didn’t know just what he was setting off in Tommy’s mind, the part of him that was so little surging forwards for the millionth time that night.
Tommy’s fingers suddenly felt clumsy, flexing around the gaming console, holding it away a bit to peer down at it. “... Bad.”
“You’re not bad, sweetheart,” Wilbur promised, moving closer again to press their shoulders together. “You just had an accident, it wasn’t on purpose. Did you feel little before falling asleep? Why didn’t you come let me know? You know I’ll always take care of my little baby brother. My tiny little brother.”
Tommy hesitantly pressed his fingers down onto the buttons on the switch, his character running over to greet and speak with one of his villagers. “Bad,” he insisted again, voice wobbling a bit more. The fog was clouding his head again. The colorful animal crossing game was helping with the harshness of it all, but it still smelled, and he still felt so sticky.
“... You’re not bad, Toms,” Wilbur said again, and he sounded sad this time, his own voice suddenly becoming a bit tense. “You couldn’t be - hey, what are you going to make on your island today? Maybe I can help you, and we can talk about this when you’re feeling better. Dad’s running you a bath, doesn’t that sound nice?”
“... Dadda mad?” Tommy questioned. A bath did sound nice, and Wilbur helping him with his island sounded nice too, but -
“Dad’s not mad, sweetheart,” Wilbur promised.
They worked together to make a park. Tommy got to pick all the items they would place in their park, and where he wanted it to go, and Wilbur helped place the texture down on the floor for it when Tommy started to get frustrated. It was coming along really well, and Tommy felt entirely little now, small and comfortable in his smallness.
Being big was… a lot, Tommy decided. He liked being small so much more, it felt so much nicer and easier and softer.
If he was small last night, he wouldn’t have knocked over his lamp or had an accident, and dad still wouldn’t know about him being little.
But Wilbur was saying all of those things were okay and nothing was wrong, so for now he could just focus on his game.
But he wasn’t able to focus on his game for long at all before Tech was leaning into the room. Technoblade, his other older brother, with his long pink hair and deep voice, normally seemed so relaxed with everything but actually looked worried now, too. Eyebrows are drawn together and eyes averted as he grunted out, “dad’s done with the bath, Tommy.”
Technoblade had seen as well, then. “Techie?” Tommy questioned, the worry suddenly returning. His voice was small and wobbling, but Technoblade’s gaze instantly snapped back to focus on him.
“You’re fine,” Technoblade reassured him, and Tommy felt like he had heard that way too many times tonight. Wilbur pulled the switch away and Tommy whined at the loss, but Wilbur only squished his cheek gently and helped him to his feet.
“We can play more after, but stinky little boys need to have baths,” Wilbur teased. And Tommy wanted to argue and stomp his feet, but he did feel stinky and sticky and overall gross. And that anxious feeling was still wriggling in his stomach, so he let Wilbur guide him out into the hallway. Wilbur didn’t even seem to mind as Tommy pushed his head into the taller male's side, hiding from sight there, not wanting to make eye contact with his other brother or his father.
If I can’t see them, they can’t see me.
The bathroom tile was cool under his feet, and some of the anxiety was washed away when he saw the bubbles his father had added to the bath. He felt even better when Wilbur pulled toys out of nowhere - a bright yellow rubber duck, a stack of colorful plastic boats and plastic fish, and a bucket decorated with a bee.
“Bee!” Tommy cheered, reaching for the bucket as Wilbur dropped the toys in the soapy water, and Wilbur only laughed and tugged him away.
“Clothes off, then water,” his brother pointed out.
Tommy struggled around the buttons and elastic, and Wilbur helped where needed. It wasn’t long before he was sinking into the warmth of the bath, pulling a plastic dolphin close to him and pushing it under the water, moving it so it was swimming along under there. “Awhooo,” he laughed slightly, echoing the sound he was sure dolphins made. “Wilby, play!”
Wilbur was already crouching next to the bath and laughing, grabbing one of the fish that he made dive alongside Tommy’s dolphin. “Mister Dolphin, the octopi are attacking us from the left side of the bathtub!”
Tommy gasped dramatically, turning his dolphin to defend said left side. Wilbur kindly didn’t point out that it was the wrong left. “Bad octo!”
Wilbur was a lot of fun. He managed to keep the games going and let Tommy splash around in the bathtub so long that his fingers and toes got all wrinkly. He helped Tommy get clean, making him tilt his head back to wash the soap out of his hair with the bee bucket, and rubbing a cloth over the parts of his back that Tommy couldn’t reach very well.
He was so distracting that even as Tommy noticed Phil and Technoblade watching from the door, he didn’t mind - playing was fun! Everyone knew that Phil and Technoblade had to know that as well, so why did he need to feel anxious?
Wilbur said it was okay to be little, which meant it had to be okay, right? They didn’t look angry, either. Maybe a little worried still, maybe a little bit confused, but that didn’t have to be bad, right?
“The water’s starting to get chilly,” Wilbur hummed after forever passed by. “Want to get out now, sunshine?”
“Noooo,” Tommy whined, making the dolphin dive under the water again. They had finally managed to win against the forces of the octopus, pushing their evil back and defending the bathtub for all the friendly fish that lived there. They were all friends, and they all loved their home and had a good time there every day. There was no room for the evil octopus enemies.
“Yessss,” Wilbur mocked back gently, leaning past Tommy to pull the plug. Tommy whined as the water started to drain, clearly not pleased. “I thought you wanted to play more Animal Crossing? And it’s still late, you should be getting back to bed.”
“Yucky,” Tommy complained, though the return to Animal Crossing did sound like fun.
“It’s not yucky. Dad and Techno cleaned it up for you while you were having your bath, it’s all better now. You can sleep in my room anyways, if you want, Tommy. Do you know how old you are?”
Tommy shrugged. He still didn’t know how he was supposed to know.
“That’s okay,” Wilbur hummed, gently, reassuring, “that’s fine, Tommy. Come on, let’s get up and get you dry.”
Tommy stood up on shaky feet and a towel was instantly wrapped around him, thick and warm and soft. Wilbur helped him step over the side of the bathtub without slipping, balancing him as Tommy began to dry off in the slight chiller air. “I’ll grab you some clothes,” Wilbur hummed, “dad, can you watch him for a second? Be nice,” he insisted, voice sharp.
Phil stepped into the room around Wilbur, nodding slightly. Tommy frowned, not wanting Wilbur anywhere out of his sight, but Wilbur smiled as he stepped past Techie and out of the room. He was coming right back. It would be fine.
“Do you… need help drying your hair?” Phil asked hesitantly, still looking so unsure.
Tommy’s attention snapped back over to his dad, and he nodded a bit shyly. “Yeah please, dadda,” he hummed, stepping closer to his father.
Phil was good at drying hair. He had raised three kids, so the gentleness of his hands shouldn’t surprise Tommy at all, but he still found himself leaning back into Phil where he was sitting on the floor in front of him as Phil rubbed a towel over his blonde strands. At least Phil didn’t seem to mind, only adjusting him a bit so he could better dry his hair.
Wilbur returned not long after as well. He had some of the clothes he had bought Tommy for when he felt little, and warmth spread through Tommy’s chest at the sight of them. “Which one?” Wilbur questioned, raising up the options.
One option was a soft blue onesie, and the other option was a pajama set with printed cows on it. Tommy quickly pointed towards the set with the cows. Onesies were for babies, and he wasn’t a baby. He was just little.
Wilbur nodded and set the other one aside, stepping closer to pass Tommy the clothes. “Do you need help getting changed -?”
“No,” Tommy argued, holding the clothes closer. Wilbur looked a bit hesitant, which did make sense considering how Tommy couldn’t even get undressed earlier… and considering how he had almost fallen just trying to step over the edge of the bathtub…
But he didn’t need help! He didn’t want to be a burden. He had already bothered his family so much tonight, and Wilbur was so nice to him and helped him with so much, but…
“I’ll stay and make sure there are no issues,” Phil offered, and Wilbur nodded, grabbing Technoblade’s arm when he walked past the pink-haired man and dragging him out of the room with him.
Tommy instantly threw all the towels aside and worked on getting dressed. It was a bit harder than he thought it would be. He felt clumsy and stumbled so easily, and in the end, Phil had stepped forwards to help him when Tommy started to whine slightly. It was embarrassing. He said he didn’t need any help at all, and he couldn’t even do something this simple. It was stupid, he was so stupid -
“I won’t tell Wilbur,” Phil whispered to him like he was sharing a conspiracy, winking. “You’re alright. Sometimes I still accidentally put my shirts on backward.”
That… felt a bit better. Even Phil, who was like, the oldest man that existed, struggled with putting on his clothes sometimes… and Wilbur didn’t have to know that Tommy needed help.
They left the bathroom hand-in-hand not long after, Tommy leaning into Phil’s side this time. His eyes started to feel heavy, and he yawned gently. It was much too late for him to be awake, and Wilbur cooed slightly at the sight of Tommy, stumbling and tired in his cow-printed pajamas. His brother moved forwards instantly to snatch him away from Phil, picking him up with a slight grunt. “Awww, baby, you look so adorable… are you sleepy? Wanna sleep in my room, or in your room?”
“Wilby,” Tommy answered without any hesitation. Everything felt better when he could be close with his brother, and he curled closer, resting the side of his face on Wilbur’s shoulder and letting his eyes flutter shut.
A mouth pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and Wilbur turned, heading back towards his room. “Okay, and when we all wake up, we can all talk, okay?” Wilbur questioned. Tommy felt like it was directed to more people than just him, but he nodded in his own agreement anyways.
Wilbur carried him all the way to his room before lowering him into his bed, and then it was just the two of them again, Wilbur pulling the blankets up and over Tommy. “Hey, listen for a second,” Wilbur hummed, pinching Tommy’s cheek.
Tommy hissed, gently smacking his hand away. “What,” he complained, voice high-pitched. It made Wilbur laugh.
“I know, I know, the baby is all tired and grumpy… but listen, Tommy. Do you think you might have another accident if you sleep? It’s okay if you feel like that, I have -”
Tommy’s eyes snapped back open from where they had fallen shut. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, a dark blush, and he quickly started to shake his head no. “No! I won’t!”
“Are you sure? Or are you just saying that because you’re feeling shy? Sweetheart, I won’t be mad, but I will get mad if you’re not telling me the truth.”
His bottom lip trembled slightly, against his will. “Wilby, no acc- ac -”
“Okay, sush,” Wilbur cooed. His brother finally reached to flick off the light, falling into the bed next to him, and pulling Tommy up to his chest. “Okay, I believe you. No crying, darling, I just had to make sure. You’re a good kid, I know you would tell me the truth.”
Tommy sniffled, turning into Wilbur’s chest. It was warm there. And he felt small and safe, curled under the weight of his brother's arms, held to his broad chest. “Sorry,” he found himself apologizing again, voice shaking.
“None of that.” Another kiss was pressed to the top of his head. “I get the feeling big you didn’t read anything I sent to him, mhn?” Tommy shook his head, and Wilbur sighed, but it sounded fond. “That’s okay. We can all read it together in the morning. Techno and dad too.”
His eyes were feeling heavier now, and Tommy felt his entire body relaxing more and more. He really was tired, and he really did feel better. Now that he wasn’t fighting his own mind, struggling against his own slide into littlespace.
Wilbur’s fingers moved through his hair, comforting and sweet. “And I’m going to make sure you come to me from now on if you feel small,” he added.
Tommy made a sleepy noise of agreement. Why wouldn’t he, if it felt this nice, this safe? Why would he ever argue against this feeling, this sense of belonging? It felt so much better than his mind normally did, he always felt like something was wrong. Like he was a burden, constantly angry for no reason, hurting everyone and lashing out against those that he loved.
But those were big him thoughts.
For now, his only focus was on falling asleep.
And in the morning, there would be a very long family meeting, which Tommy would spend anxious and pressed into Wilbur’s side. And it would end with Phil hugging him and Technoblade ruffling his hair and the two of them promising they loved him, and wouldn’t judge him for something out of his control, a coping mechanism, in the slightest.
And Wilbur would talk to him about letting himself be little, and they would argue for almost three hours straight until it ended with tears and hugs, and a quiet agreement to
try.
And it would be the start to something.