Chapter Text
Setting the bowls down onto the dark wooden table with a thud, Tommy sits himself down in the slightly cushioned chair at the table.
When Wilbur brings over the Spaghetti and meat sauce, he's entirely silent. Mostly picking at the edges of his sleeves beneath the table.
Dinner is mostly silent, save for Wilbur and him exchanging how their days went.
Wilbur clears his throat, smiling gently at Tommy. "So...a scrapbook, eh?"
"Yeah, big dubs, a scrapbook. What, you lose your eyesight? Was your cooking that bad tonight?" Tommy quirks a brow, feigning curiosity.
"You know you love my cooking, you little demon!" Wilbur chuckles, frowning playfully.
Wilbur peels open the first page of the scrapbook, a grin breaking out on his face.
He doesn't say anything. Just flipping pages and grinning, reminiscing in the old memories and the clippings Tommy had added to give the pages more life.
Wilbur flips to the last page, and Tommy can't bring himself to look him in the eyes. He was too big of a man to see how he'd react to it. Not that the page was mushy or anything, no. He'd never write anything about how happy he was that Will was his brother. Nor would he write anything about how he was glad he got to spend so much time with him.
That would be ludicrous.
But they were ludicrous.
Wilbur smiles softly, standing out of his seat to give his younger brother a hug.
"I'm glad you're my brother as well, dork. Let's go get some ice cream, yeah?" Wil grins, pulling away and dragging them both out the front door.
They both got vanilla cones. They both got another photo to add to the album.
Being brothers was great.