pixelatedcheese
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The weather was relentless the next day, completely shutting them inside. Tommy was in a sour mood because of it, and Wilbur was doing his best to cheer him up with light strums from his guitar.
“It’s not fair!” Tommy shouted, storming away from the window. “This is an awful fucking time for the rain to start, so why now?”
“Language, Tommy,” Phil said calmly. “None of us are happy about it. I know, it sucks.”
“Yeah, it fuckin’ does…” he mumbled, seating himself on the ground next to Wilbur. Wilbur played a few notes, looking up to Tommy, silently asking for requests. He rolled his eyes overdramatically, before tapping his chin. “Give me that one, uh… Jubilee Line or whatever? Good song for jamming to when you’re upset.” Wilbur stuck out his tongue in concentration, reaching his short fingers over the strings. He began slowly strumming, filling the room with a light melancholy.
//
Or, a self-indulgent comfort fic with immortal Phil, his son Wilbur, his adoptive son Tommy, and a strange student from far away living in a small cabin in the woods.