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Wilbur hated ABBA.
Truly, maybe, he liked the music once long ago, but Tommy has a habit of stealing songs off of his playlist and playing it so often the song gets ruined.
As he checks his rear view mirror to change out of his lane, he considers changing the song. Tommy’s passed out in the passenger seat, head thumping against the window harshly everytime they hit a bump. He doesn’t wake up, even when he hits a pothole at 80 miles per hour and his forehead bangs against the glass so hard he thought it would break.
But, when his phone starts to ring? He sits up with a startle, a little drool slipping out of his mouth. Wilbur rolled his eyes, leaning over to look at the caller. “S’ Phil,” he mumbled, yawning a bit.
“Oh shit.”
“You gonna… you gonna pick up?”
Wilbur bit his lip. Tommy listened to his obnoxious ringtone carry on before finally giving in, leaning forward to hover over the green “accept” button. “It’d probably be worse if we didn’t.” Wilbur only sighs as the ringing subsides and he barks out an excited, “Phil!”
“Where the hell have you taken Tommy?”
He whistles cooly, changing lanes once again. “Mornin’, Phil.”
“Wilbur,” he spits, “Where did you take Tommy?”
“We’re going…” He falters, scanning Tommy’s face as they both scramble to think of a convincing lie. “To the store!” They both cringe.
“The store,” Phil parrots, not amused.
“...Yeah,” he finishes. “Took him to the store.”
“I don’t believe that. Why would I believe that? You kids just want me to have a heart attack--”
“You’d probably have a heart attack at somethin’ dumb, anyways,” Tommy adds, rather unhelpfully. “Since you’re, like, old and shit.”
“Thanks.” He could see Phil’s eyebags without looking at him. “Wilbur, bring Tommy back home before--”
“You’re breaking up,” Wilbur lies, and Tommy grins ear to ear, bringing the speaker close to his mouth as he makes a hissing sound. “Bad-sh-connect-sh-on!”
“You’re so full of shit--”
“Can’t hear you!” he calls, panicking and punching the “end call” button.
The music paused, a clear “call ended” on the dashboard. Tommy picks up his soda, ice long melted in his old McDonald’s cup, and sips at it. “Shut up.”
“Didn’t say anything,” Tommy mumbles, setting it back down into the cupholder.
“You were thinking it.”
Tommy stares out the window. The background has started to becoming more familiar over time, a clear indicator there isn’t much of the drive left.
He’s excited to go, to stretch his legs for one, but also he’s been stuck inside his stuffy house for weeks on end that the opportunity to leave is too tempting.
Still… He likes being in the car, head rolled against the window peacefully as Wilbur drives them carefully, ever so often leaning over to check on him. They listen to a playlist Wilbur made especially for him, and he keeps quiet, as to not disturb him.
And when he’s awake, they talk. It’s a different talk than the ones inside the house or in public. It’s a different air.
He wonders if Wilbur loves car time as much as he does.
“You think Phil’s mad?”
Wilbur turns into a drive-thru. Tommy is silent as Wilbur orders himself a coffee and Tommy’s go-to drink - a weird slushie that’s sold at his favorite coffee chain for whatever reason. “Yeah,” he admits, accepting the cups from the worker after a long stretch of silence. “He’ll be pissed.”
“Think he’s gonna ground me?”
He scoffs, lifting the straw up to his mouth as he drives. “He’s not gonna ground you, he’s gonna ground me for kidnapping you in the first place.”
“Even if I asked you to?”
He nods solemnly. “Especially because you asked me to. He’ll think I’m spoiling you and encouraging your rebellious nature.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of anarchy.”
Maybe I am a bad influence, he thinks bitterly. “It’ll be worth it. You’ve been wanting to go to this place for ages, right?”
Tommy kicks his feet up on the dashboard, and Wilbur elbows him until he moves. “Yeah! It’s a good thing. I don’t get why Phil would be mad. We’re just on tour.”
“On tour.”
“Yeah,” he emphasizes. “We’re just some lads on tour, sneaking out at 6am to be rebellious anarchists and take over the world, and, and do some dirty cr-- ”
“We’re going to the waterpark, Toms.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and nods smugly. “Exactly. Steal some corn dogs, push some unsuspecting victims into the wave pool, bully any cowards too scared to go on the big slides… Wil, it’ll be great. If Phil grounds you, it’ll be for a good cause.”
“And what cause is that?”
“My happiness.”
He rolls his eyes, turning into the amusement park lot. “I’d rather have Phil think I’m a bad influence than have him think I’m soft for Tommyinnit of all people.”
“I mean, you are.” Tommy covers a smile with his drink. “Oh. Phil’s calling me now.”
“Don’t pick it up.”
Tommy holds up a finger with one hand and holds his phone to his ear with the other. Wilbur swats at him, and he moves away, curling up to protect his phone. “Hey, Phil!”
Damage already been done, Wilbur leans back and sighs, sinking in the seat as he finishes his coffee. Tommy sits up, turning to Wilbur with a doe-eyed expression and says, “Who taught you how to check our location?”
Wilbur slaps his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s so dead. “No, no, you’re wrong, phone must be glitching,” Tommy said. “We’d never go to a waterpark, nah. We’re up in the city, but we’re actually-” Tommy falls silent, nodding as Phil’s voice booms out of the speaker. Wilbur tries to ignore it. “Oh. We’re, uh, we’re not at the hooter’s either, Phil. That’s uh… Phone’s just wrong. We’re at the store. Buying eggs.” There’s a pause, Phil probably ranting on the other end. “You want to talk to Wilbur?”
He shakes his head frantically, but the phone is already being pressed into his hand. “Can you go ahead and get the bag out?” Tommy nods, climbing out of the door to open the trunk. He winces as he holds the phone up to his ear. “Alright, let me have it.”
“I’m not mad,” Phil says in his “mad” voice. He knows he’s sat at the table with his hands clasped together and with furrowed eyebrows. “Just… What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking Tommy looks horrific, rotting away in that room of his. I want him to have some good memories while he’s…” His throat goes dry, as it often does when Tommy comes up in conversation. “He really wanted to come here, Phil.”
There’s a heavy sigh on his end. “He’s not in any condition to be around a lot of people, and don’t excite him too much-”
“We’re gonna have fun today,” Wilbur says, wry smile on his face as Tommy struggles to throw the bag over his shoulder. He rounds the side, fingers pattering against the window. He waves him off. “We’ll be okay.”
There’s a long spread of silence. Tommy is now breathing heavily against the window, fogging it up before drawing a spacesh-- nope, not a spaceship. Wilbur hates teenagers. “You could’ve at least invited your poor-old dad.”
“You wouldn’t have liked to come here.”
“What, you skydiving or something?”
“You know, he mentioned wanting to do that once…”
“Wilbur. Wilbur, you are not taking him skydiving, do you hear me? You are not--”
“No skydiving,” he promises. “We’re just gonna have fun today, okay?” Another sigh. “And since when do you know how to check location?”
“Ranboo showed me how,” he confesses softly.
“Huh. Figures. Don’t tell Tommy or he’ll hate Ranboo than he already does.”
“Don’t be mean to him,” he huffs. “Poor kid’s jealous.”
“He… Phil, he’s allergic to water.”
“An invite would’ve been nice!”
“Okay,” Wilbur winces, a note to take Ranboo out for ice cream in the back of his mind. “We gotta go now before it gets too busy.”
“Be safe, Wilbur,” he orders, sighing for the upteenth time. “Watch over each other.”
“Yes, Dad,” he sighs back. “I promise we’ll be okay. Bye-bye.” He hangs up the call and pockets the phone, joining Tommy outside the car.
“He ground you for life?” Tommy teases, showing more teeth than anything as he smiles. Wilbur softens, throwing an arm over his shoulder and pulling him close. “Wil, it’s hot.”
“It’d be worth it.” Tommy tugs at the grip, but Wilbur refuses to let go, not until they’re at the check-in, showing off the tickets they spontaneously bought at 6am that morning.
“Toms,” Wilbur had hissed, climbing on top of Tommy before the sun had even rose yet. He had stirred, kicking Wilbur in his sleep. “Toms, wake up.”
He had let out a string of curses before smacking Wilbur in the face harshly, eyes fluttering open, struggling to focus on his dimly lit face. “Fuck you want, bitch?” He had dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was a harsh white.
“Let’s go,” he seethed, excitement seeping out of him. “Let’s go to the waterpark.”
His furrowed eyebrows faded, and he sat up in bed. “Really?”
That’d been only four hours prior, and they packed Wilbur’s car up with towels and snacks and fled the house before Phil could wake up.
Now they were here, bundling into the waterpark that was practically empty. “There’s nobody here,” Tommy exclaimed, excited by the lack of people.
“‘Cause it’s a school day,” he emphasized, grabbing Tommy’s hand tightly. “It’s still easy to get lost, though, so stay close.”
“I’m seventeen, you bitch.” Tommy let go of Wilbur’s hand, but he finds it again and squeezes firmly. “Stop, people are gonna look at us funny!”
“Either that or get lost.”
“You can’t get lost when you’re an adult.”
Wilbur buys a locker, finally letting go of his hand as they stop to open it and tuck away their towels. “Well, don’t come crying to me when you succumb to the wave pool.”
“That is not how I want to go.” Wilbur stills harshly at the words, whipping his head around to face a solemn Tommy. “Drown in a pool full of god knows what. Public pools are nasty.” He was stuck on the words, at the thought of the going.
He shook his head, willing it away. They were going to have fun today.
Today, they were going to be happy.
“Wilbur, what the hell is this?” Tommy ransacks the bag, pulling out an orange sunscreen bottle.
“Sunscreen?” Wilbur tucks his phone under the towels and puts away his keys. When he turns back around, he’s holding the bottle up to his face.
“Spf 100?” He snatches it from his hand and sprays some into his hand so he can rub it into his face. “Really, Wilbur, you think we need - hey!” He winces as Wilbur practically slaps him in the face, being careful of his eyes, and rubbing in the spray. “Could’ve given me a warning.”
“Turn around,” he instructs, and he obeys. He barely has to spray his back - Tommy’s wearing a long sleeved rashguard and a pair of dinosaur swim trunks. His skin is pale - even more so than Wil’s these days, so he makes sure to cover the back of his neck. “All good.”
Tommy’s not still fussy by the time he turns back around, he’s distracted now, pointing off in the distance. “Can we go on that one first?”
“The purple and green one?” He nods eagerly. “That’s the biggest one. Shouldn’t we do that one last?”
“Alright, be a puss-puss about it,” he grumbles. “Fine, we’ll go on your baby slides first!”
“I didn’t mean actually start with the baby ones,” Wilbur counters, following in Tommy’s footsteps as he pads up to an actual child slide. “Look, Toms, we’re too tall.”
“That’s too bad, isn’t it?” he sneers, and Wilbur waits exactly half a second before grabbing ahold of Tommy and yanking him into the baby pool. A lifeguard whistles at them, and they quickly scatter out, Tommy pushing him lightly as they step back on the concrete. “You bitch.”
Tommy’s soaked, and he rubs at his eyes in an attempt to get the water out. “Sorry, it was too tempting.” He didn’t mean the apology, both of them knew he would be doing it at least once more before the end of the day.
They get in line for a next slide, one they both can actually go on, and Tommy rambles the whole time about some dinosaur documentary he and Tubbo watched together. The wait is a bit rough, but Tommy is good about filling up the time with conversation, up until, they get to the top of the ride and start reading the rules. “Uh-oh,” Tommy sighs loudly. “Looks like we can’t go.”
“What, too tall? That’s not an actual rule, is it because--”
“Says no pregnant people,” Tommy frowns, and a couple nearby people scoff at them.
“I’m gonna throw you over. You know that, right?”
Tommy grins, avoiding reaching hands to step up on the platform. “You go in that way.”
“So I’m backwards?”
Tommy nods, sinking into his side of the float, grinning up at the lifeguard. “So,” Tommy starts, hand on his chin. “Come here often?”
The lifeguard is less amused, scoffing to herself as she goes over the rules, ignoring Tommy. She pushes them down without warning, and Wilbur screams loudly, as he drops down, not able to see the slide from his position.
He can see Tommy - the two of them facing together, and he grins, unable to contain a laugh at Tommy’s joy.
Once they’re out, Tommy rolls over into the water, hopping off the float. There’s another lifeguard there to move the float to the side, and Tommy whips out a, “By the way, he was the one screaming.”
“I bet,” the lifeguard commented dryly as Wilbur fled, a bit embarrassed to be by his side. Tommy caught up, cackling to himself.
“You’re going in backwards, next time,” he demands as they line up for their next slide.
They only manage to go on three when he notices Tommy’s quit talking about dinosaur facts and resorting to laying on the handles, obviously tired. “We can eat soon,” Wilbur suggests, offering a reprieve.
“No, let’s go on that big slide next,” he pleads, even as his exhaustion is shown obvious.
“We can eat and then go,” Wilbur promises, and Tommy relents, too tired to argue. “We can stay as long as you’d like.” He’s not sure how much that really means, with how tired he looks now.
“Even after they close?”
“We’d just sneak in.” It’s an empty promise, but Tommy smiles at it anyways.
As promised, they do stop to eat, but Tommy forgoes any actual food and barrels towards the funnel cake line. Wilbur isn’t one to say no to Tommy anymore, so when he orders one jampacked with a bunch of candy on it, he can’t say anything.
Tommy’s only able to eat a few bites before he starts slowing down. He stabs his fork into it, obviously trying to stomach as much as he can, but it’s clear he’s done. Taking some pity on him, Wilbur steals some and plops it into his mouth, cringing as powdered sugar puffs everywhere. “I’m stealin’ some,” he manages around the food in his mouth.
Tommy doesn’t seem to care, only sneering at him and the mess they’ve made.
“Okay,” he pipes up, the second they’re done. “Big slide next!”
Wilbur tosses it in the trash, snagging a bunch of napkins before yanking Tommy towards him, trying to clean off his face. He grumbles at him, but he manages to get most of the sugar off of their hands. “You ready?”
“Mhm. I’ll go backwards this time.”
There’s a bit of shade, and Wilbur’s hot, but it’s not overbearing. He didn’t think much of the heat until Tommy starts to buckle a little, as they lined up. “You hot, Toms?”
“You’re not?” he retorts. “It’s fucking hot.”
He winces as a mother turns her head, pushing her young child behind her and scowling at Tommy.
He resorts sitting them in a calm pool, so he could cool down. Tommy sits in the shallow water, eyes fluttering close. “Be right back, okay?” Tommy hums, a little concerned as to where he’s going, but he’s comfortable in the water, so he sits and waits, staring at the people around him.
Wilbur checks over him as he walks, and Tommy’s in the same place. He’ll be fine, just for a moment, but his anxiety worsens. He ignores it the best he can, stumbling into the gift shop and buying the ugliest, floppiest hat he could find.
When he comes back out minutes later, Tommy’s in the same spot, sat up straight and outright scowling at a father playing with his son. “Tommy,” he called, and his demeanor instantly changes, annoyance fleeting and his usual, neutral expression returning. “I got you a gift.”
“What the hell is that?” Wilbur drops it on his head, and Tommy moves to rip it off.
“No, no, it’ll help you with the sun,” he says, and to his surprise, he leaves it. The heat must’ve been bothering him more than he thought.
They chill in the water, Wilbur sticking his legs in as Tommy sinks down, head never going under. He watches warily, glaring at the same family from earlier.
Wilbur’s not so sure what’s eating away at him, but he doesn’t like it. He sinks down into the water and grabs Tommy by the armpits before raising him up and throwing him forward.
Tommy doesn’t get mad like he expected and swims back up above the water, a loppy grin on his face. The water is shallow enough he can walk, and he clings onto Wilbur. “Throw me again?” He didn’t even need to be asked before doing it again, reveling in the way he pads through the water.
“Quit splashing,” Wilbur warns, wiping water off his face as Tommy swims back to him.
“What?” he echoes. “This is how I swim.”
“Seriously,” Wilbur says, wiping at his eyes, and Tommy latches onto him to stay afloat.
“I don’t know how else to swim,” he mumbles.
“What? Seriously?”
He sheepishly lowers his head under the water, floppy hat getting drenched.
“No one taught you how to swim?”
“No,” he admits, paddling past Wilbur to where his feet can reach. “Some of it’s kinda easy, but… I’m not that good.”
“I’ll teach you,” is what Wilbur wants to say, but by the way Tommy’s sluggishly moving, he knows it’ll be time to go soon. “Wanna go to the deep end?”
Tommy starts paddling, and Wilbur stays close with him, just in case. He’s an okay swimmer, considering nobody ever taught him how. He’s just throwing limbs through water, but the motions would overexert anybody, much less someone in Tommy’s condition.
After swimming around a few times, his body starts to feel numb, and Wilbur picks him up, and they go back towards the calm area.
“You hungry enough for dinner yet?”
Tommy nods slightly, resting his chin on the border of the pool. “A bit. You ready to go?”
“Yeah.” Tommy struggles to get out of the pool, and he yanks him out.
They’re too tired to eat anywhere sit-in, so they grab fast food on the way home. Tommy barely touches his sandwich, but he stays curled up, knees drawn to his chest as he watches Wilbur sleepily.
“You can take a nap,” Wilbur says, turning down the music. “We have about an hour left ‘till we’re home.”
Tommy yawns, curling up with the water cup close to his mouth. “Nah, I’ll stay up.”
It’s half-hearted because his eyes flutter shut and they don’t open until they’re almost home. He avoided the pot holes the whole way home and kept quiet, even when he was tempted to road rage.
It’s still bright out by the time they shuffle into their home. Phil is sat at the dinner table with Ranboo and Tubbo, who squint at them as they come inside. “Welcome home, traitors,” Tubbo snarls loudly, and Wilbur puts a finger in front of his lips.
Tommy is leaning on him heavily, barely able to stay awake. “You two smell,” Phil comments, scrunching up his nose. “If I didn’t check your location, I still would’ve known when you came home.”
“It’s just the park,” Wilbur says, leaning over Ranboo to pluck a roll off the table. “We both made it home in one piece.”
“Could’ve invited us,” Tubbo says, narrowing his eyes.
“You don’t even live here, Tubbo,” Wilbur counters. “And Ranboo’s allergic to water.”
“Still,” he says, sticking his nose up. “It’s rude, taking Tommy like that.”
“You went skating without me.”
“You were at college, that’s not my fault!”
“Boys, stop,” Phil says, worn out. They take pity on him, even as his heart beats against his rib cage. “Tommy, you look exhausted. Shower before you pass out, okay?”
“Okay,” he called back, retreating up the stairs.
Wilbur takes his own shower and, honestly, a short nap before exiting the room. Phil’s bedroom door is shut, and he finds the two teenagers slumped against each other on the couch. “Wanna play mario party with us?” Tubbo invites, head tucked against Ranboo’s.
“I think Tommy’s in bed.”
“Go wake him up, then,” Tubbo pouts, raising his arms over his head to stretch. “We didn’t get to see him all day.”
“He probably needs rest, Bo,” Ranboo says, but he doesn’t take it.
“Go wake the traitor up so we can all play mario party.”
Wilbur doesn’t really want to, but he feels guilty for stealing him from his friends, so he climbs up the stairs and knocks on his door before creaking in. “Tommy?”
There’s a bundle in the bed, and as he nears, he can make out a tuft of messy blond hair. He sinks to his side, offput as he doesn’t stir at his voice. “Tommy?” he repeats, shaking him harshly until he jolts awake.
“Wha?” he stirs, sitting up quickly. “Wilbur, why’re you--?”
“Sorry,” he apologizes, wincing as Tommy rubs at his face, aggravated. “You weren’t moving.”
“I was asleep,” he huffs, but when he drops his hands and looks at Wilbur’s sunken face, he softens. “Sorry. From now on when I sleep, I’ll punch you when you come in so you know I’m okay.”
“That’ll do,” he counters. “Tubbo wants you to play Mario Party.”
“Is he mad?”
“Not really,” he lies. “I think he just misses you,” and it was true.
He sighs, moving the blanket to the side. “‘M really tired,” he confesses, and it’s a red flag, bells are ringing in his ears.
“Tommyinnit, confessing he’s tired? My, oh my, I never thought I’d see the day.”
Tommy winces, trying to smile as he reaches his arms up. “I don’t think I can walk,” he confesses softly, and Wilbur blinks quickly, trying to get rid of any tears starting to form.
“Okay, Toms,” he whispers, tucking his head into his shoulder as he lifts him off the bed. “I’ve got you.”
He doesn’t make it to the game, but Tommy curls up on the couch, next to his family, and he falls asleep peacefully, head rolled into Tubbo’s lap and feet propped up on Wilbur’s lap, Ranboo being pushed off the edge uncomfortably by Tommy.
He sleeps soundly, stilly. He doesn’t make much noise as he sleeps, but the smile on his face is all Wilbur needs to know it’s okay.
They had a good day today.
That’s all that should matter.
He wishes he knew how many good days they had left.