Chapter Text
It started off as a day that was just slightly worse than the ones before it.
He had woken up late, having slept through his alarms, only stirring when Wilbur knocked on his door and peeked his head in. His older brother had been amused by his sleepy appearance but exasperated, dragging him up out of bed and shoving him in front of a plate of breakfast as he scrambled to get them both out the door. Tommy had tried his best to eat quickly and try to help Wilbur out - he knew how hard it was for Wilbur, whose smiles were often lined with exhaustion and stress, having been taking care of Tommy since Tommy was seven and Wilbur was thirteen and they had been left alone for an entire month. Wilbur had been deemed old enough to watch over Tommy, and it had been like that ever since.
Phil was on another business trip this month and had been gone for two weeks already. It was a two-month trip, which meant they may see their father in another six weeks if the trip didn’t get extended. Or if another trip wasn’t planned immediately afterward.
Tommy was already mentally prepared not to catch a glimpse of their father.
Ultimately their joint attempt to be on time paid off, and though Tommy was still sleepy and a bit miserable from the quick shower he had been forced to take, Wilbur dropped him off in front of his high school with a quick hug and a promise to call him if anything went wrong. Tommy, of course, replied with a roll of his eyes and a snarky comment as he hopped out of the car.
If things had improved from there, it would have been fine, but they only got increasingly worse. The reason why Tommy had been so tired is that he had been staying up late the night before to finish his English project. It was a huge project, worth a large chunk of their mark, and somehow in their desperate rush to get out the door in the morning he had left it at home. There was no time to run back, and Tommy wasn’t about to call Wilbur to drop it off for him.
Wilbur was probably at work by now, with his band, working on his music. Music was Wilbur’s passion, and he was a fucking genius when it came down to it. Tommy didn’t want to get in the way of that, not when Phil was already breathing down Wil’s neck about getting a ‘real job.’
English was his first class, so Tommy miserably dragged himself there, teeth pressed tightly together as he took his seat next to Ranboo. Clearly seeing there was something up with his friend, Ranboo cast him a worried glance, leaning over to him with a lowered voice as the bell rang loudly through the school. “Everything okay, Tommy?”
“I forgot my project,” Tommy admitted hesitantly after a second, glancing at Ranboo out of the corner of his eye. Ranboo was still a fairly new addition to Tommy’s group of friends, Tubbo having dragged the overly tall anxious teenager over one day with a bright grin and a glint in his eyes that Tommy had known meant Ranboo was going to be sticking around. “It was just so busy this morning, I completely forgot. I’m a fucking idiot,” he mourned.
Ranboo grimaced, expression softening slightly. He wasn’t quite able to make eye contact with Tommy, but his words were gentle as he spoke. “It’s okay, Tommy, I’m sure Mr. Nook will understand.”
Maybe Sam would understand if this wasn’t the one hundredth time Tommy had fucked something up so far this year. Tommy actually liked school, too - he had plans to go to college, an exciting career laid out before him. But it was just so hard sometimes, especially with everything else that was piling up outside of school. Everything was stressful constantly, and it was always piling up on top of Tommy’s head, and it sucked.
Tommy grimaced at the childish whine, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. Sam wouldn’t fail him for this, right? The worst he could do was yell at him in front of the class, maybe. “Yeah,” he agreed with Ranboo, even if he didn’t have any faith in his actual words.
Sam - Mr. Nook - didn’t yell at him, but he wasn’t happy either. He had called Tommy out in front of the entire class, embarrassing him in front of everyone without hesitance, going on and on about how disappointed he was and how he expected better from him. Tommy could hear a few giggles coming from around him and behind him as he sunk down in his seat, ears flushing red, stomach twisting in on itself.
He kept his head high though, raising an eyebrow at Mr. Nook when he finally stopped telling Tommy about how he needed to work harder, shoulders sliding upwards in a shrug. “C’mon Sam,” he complained, using the teacher's first name and ignoring the way it made Sam’s eyebrow twitch, “it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll bring it in tomorrow, no reason to be a hardass about it.”
Sam sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment. “Go sit in the hallway, Tommy. I’m going to be calling your father tonight.”
Tommy’s stomach twisted harder, his ears still burning with flush as he pushed himself to his feet and sulked out towards the door. He cast Sam the middle finger behind his back, smirking at the class as they burst into more giggles, before vanishing into the hallway.
Phil was going to be pissed. He was going to call Wilbur and yell at him, and go on and on about how Wilbur needed to discipline Tommy better, about how he expected more from the both of them. Wilbur wasn’t going to be angry at all, he was just going to look at Tommy with a soft, worried look, but there was going to be a smidgen of disappointment in his eyes -
Tommy’s stomach lurched, and he crouched down on the floor with a tiny gasp, squeezing his eyes shut. Wilby is going to be upset.
He couldn’t help the way he lashed out. He had spoken about it with Wilbur before. When teachers and students were talking him down, disappointed or annoyed or angry with him, Tommy felt a bone-deep need to defend himself, lash out with teeth and nails, and barbed words. It was better than showing the embarrassment he actually felt, the stubborn ache in his chest and behind his eyes. It was better than slipping into littlespace, which was always a struggle when adults got upset with him, which he was struggling to control right now.
I’m a school, he reminded himself, I need to stay big.
Tommy waited in the hallway for the rest of the class, received another stern talking to from Sam before he was sent on his way.
Naturally, things continued to deteriorate.
Ranboo and Tubbo had a project in one of their shared classes without him and weren’t able to sit with him at lunch. Tommy had sat with Purpled’s group of friends. They had welcomed him easily enough, and Tommy liked speaking with them, but they weren’t his best friends, and he missed them. Especially considering how things were going for him today.
It turned out his project wasn’t the only thing he had forgotten either. He had forgotten his lunch at home, left it in the fridge, which meant he was both upset, frustrated, lonely, and hungry. If Tubbo or Ranboo had been there they would have shared, but Purpled and his friends didn’t really seem to notice.
Throughout his next few classes, the amount of homework he had assigned to him started to pile up high, way higher than Tommy felt like he could deal with. A headache started to build behind his eyes, and Tommy pulled an infinity cube from his bag to fiddle with under his desk to keep himself focused, trying to ignore both the headache and the hunger pains.
Still, he pushed through. Tubbo being by his side for his last two classes was a huge bonus. Some of the stress slipped away as Tubbo cracked jokes with him, able to tell that Tommy was having a rough time. He promised to go on a call with Tommy tonight, saying that they could work through homework and shit talk their teachers together, the promise enough to get a laugh out of Tommy.
It wasn’t until their last class that things reached their lowest point.
Schlatt was an asshole of a teacher, one of the worst Tommy had ever had. He was glad he had Tubbo in that class as well, but Schlatt had quickly separated them across the room within the first week of school, the two only able to send each other annoyed or amused glances across the room, limiting actual conversation between them.
Still, Tommy had mostly been able to tune out Schlatt’s voice as he assigned them a small assignment to work on in class, walking down the aisles to hand out the papers. He had been fine, managing to cling onto his headspace and keep himself present, right up to the moment that Schaltt had reached over and snatched Tommy’s infinity cube right out of his hands.
Tommy was startled, the sudden grab being entirely unexpected as the infinity cube was taken. His head snapped towards Schlatt’s direction, eyes wide as he stared at the teacher in surprise. Schaltt was looking the cube over, raising it with an unimpressed expression on his face. “What is this, Tommy?”
“My fidget,” Tommy immediately replied, the words small and childish in his mouth. Schaltt was glaring at him, and the fidget had been one of the few things keeping him locked on the present. Besides that, it had been a gift from Wilbur. It was the first gift Wilbur had given him when Tommy had opened up to him about his age regression. Wilbur had it on hand since it had belonged to him for around a year, and he had pressed it into Little Tommy’s hands with a smile and a promise that everything was fine, and they could talk about it more when Tommy was older again.
Ever since then, Tommy had taken the fidget everywhere with him, playing with it whether he was big or small. Using it to focus, to distract, to keep himself in the correct headspace. It was a comfort to him.
“It’s a toy,” Schlatt deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “You’re in school, Tommy, you don’t need to be playing with a toy. You need to focus.”
Like earlier in the morning, Tommy heard a few of his classmates giggling around him. Unlike earlier though, he couldn’t bring himself to snap back a harsh reply, or roll his eyes or swear. Instead, his eyes burned with tears, and he ducked his head down to hide them. He was hungry, and hurting, and tired, and everyone had been such a meanie so far today. He was slipping, fast. “Sorry,” he muttered, words fragile and wobbly.
“You can get this back at the end of class,” Schlatt replied, already walking away.
Tommy leaned over his project, closing his eyes tightly to hold back the tears that wanted so desperately to fall. He knew he was at school, and he had to be big, but it was hard. He didn’t feel big, he felt small like the school was swallowing him whole, and its walls were rising high and dangerous all around him. He felt trapped, and so, so little.
After a few minutes, he got his breathing and tears under control, hesitantly opening his ears to peer down at the paper that had been placed below him. He felt too small to read many of the words there, but a few caught his eye, familiar small words - like ‘the,’ and ‘a,’ and ‘but.’ Still, he was too little to actually complete the work.
“How old are you, Tommy?” Wilbur asked sweetly, fingers tapping gently against Tommy’s own.
Wilbur wasn’t here right now, but Tommy internally answered the routine question anyways after a moment of pondering. He felt like he was five, or maybe six - somewhere around there. He shuffled in his seat, not liking how he had to sit there for what he knew was forever. Classes were so so long, and he had to pretend to be big for almost this entire class! The classes weren’t actually an eternity, but to Tommy’s young mind, it felt like one.
He made a grab for the pencil on his desk, hunching over slightly. If he couldn’t get any work done, he had to at least look like he was working, right? He could at least draw, otherwise, he was pretty sure he was going to pass away from boredom.
The distraction would be good as well. He still felt the urge to cry and yell and smack something, and the only thing holding him back was the knowledge that acting small at school would be the end of his social reputation forever. Also, throwing tantrums was bad, even when he was upset. If he was upset he was meant to use his words, not throw tantrums, or Wilbur would put him in time out, or take away dessert for the day.
He wasn’t sure which punishment was worse, they were both awful.
Tommy carefully started to doodle on the worksheet, motions slightly clumsy, as he tuned most of his surroundings out. He had crayons tucked away in his backpack and a coloring book. Sometimes if he was feeling little at school he would let himself slip slightly at break, coloring with Tubbo and Ranboo, who both knew about his secret. They had found out very recently, but they were both supportive and never minded coloring with him at school when he was having a rough time.
But taking them out during class would be another way to reveal his littlespace, and if his meanie teacher didn’t even let him keep his infinity cube, he would definitely take his coloring book away as well. Even though it didn’t belong to him, and stealing was bad.
Tommy felt tears burn in his eyes again at the reminder of his stolen infinity cube, so he focused harder on his drawing, willing time to go by quickly. He was drawing his stuffed animals, which were all at home right now. He had a whale that Wilbur had given him, as well as a minecraft collection that contained an enderman, a creeper, and a zombie from Tubbo. He also had a cow from Ranboo.
He was drawing the cow - Henry - going on an adventure with the zombie - Bite - to try and find a way to get the whale - Waffle - out of the water and on land so he could play with the rest of his friends. The enderman and creeper, Oreo and Boom respectively, were the bad guys in this particular adventure. They wanted to get Waffle for themselves and sell him because whales were really big and worth lots and lots of money. Like a billion dollars.
The drawings weren’t very good, clumsy, and childish, but Tommy didn’t realize. He was rather proud of his masterpiece, certain that Wilbur would hang it up on the fridge as soon as he got home -
Oh. Wilbur was going to be mad at him. In the distraction of the sudden fall into littlespace, trying to calm himself all alone, and then his drawing, Tommy had forgotten about this morning. About the project he hadn’t brought in, and how Sam said he was going to be calling Tommy’s dad. About how his dad would definitely call Wilbur, and -
Tommy let out a tiny panicked huff of air, the pencil falling from his hand. If he calls Wilby, Wilby is going to be upset. I said I would do better at school. I’m doing bad. Badbadbad -
The little was quickly getting overwhelmed by the panicky idea of Wilbur being upset with him, disappointed and oh so disapproving, and he stuck the corner of his sleeve in his mouth, sucking on it lightly, anxiety brimming high in his chest.
Glancing away from his art, his sight fell quickly onto Tubbo. His friend was already watching him, eyes wide with what looked like… alarm? Concern? From where Tommy was sitting, he could see his friend's tight grip on his own pencil. Tubbo didn’t seem to be writing, gnawing on his lip as his gaze flickered over to Schlatt and then back to Tommy.
Tommy sucked harder on his sleeve, whining under his breath to himself. He could feel himself slipping a bit younger, away from six and down into five, lingering close to four.
He didn’t want to think about how he was in school, in his seat with nowhere to go, but the drawing and imaginary adventure wasn’t enough to distract him anymore. He was too anxious and upset about being in trouble, his head and stomach hurting too much, and he wanted Wilbur. Even if Wilbur was upset with him and talked to him in a tired, annoyed tone of voice, or took away his toys or put him in time out, it would be okay if Wilbur was just there, with him.
Tommy muffled another whimper into his sleeve, not aware of how his actions were drawing more attention back to the little. Schlatt, who had seemed content to remain at his desk, was looking over now, getting up again, and coming over.
Tommy stared at his drawing of Henry and Bite talking about how to save Waffle, sucking even harder on his sleeve as he tried not to cry. He could feel his sleeve getting wet, but he didn’t have his pacifier or any of his chewy toys. Just a ‘nother thing for Wilby to be disa - dis - upset bout, his brain decided in a cruel whisper.
Schlatt cleared his throat, and Tommy’s mouth parted to release his sleeve automatically, the wet sensation icky on his skin as he blinked up at his teacher. Schlatt seemed entirely unimpressed as he stared down at Tommy, his gaze switching to stare at Tommy’s work for a second before looking back at the boy. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Tommy flinched slightly. Bad word, his mind pointed out helpfully. He wasn’t allowed to say bad words, and Wilby made sure not to say them around him when he was little. “I’m ‘oloring,” he muttered under his voice, too soft and muffled for the teacher to make out clearly.
“What?” Schlatt slapped a hand on the table, and Tommy tried to lean back when the teacher leaned down over him, but there was nowhere to go. “Fuck kid, do I really need to talk to you multiple times? Are you really drawing all over your notes? I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but you’re acting like an idiot! Sit up straight, stop sucking on your sleeve like a two-year-old, wipe that stupid expression off your face, and do your damn work!”
Schlatt raised his hand and slammed it down on the desk hard enough that the entire thing rattled. Tommy flinched hard and squeezed his eyes shut. His hands snapped up to curl over his ears, but Schlatt was still talking, his voice raised and loud enough that Tommy could hear it. “Don’t cover your ears when I’m talking to you! I don’t think you need your little toy back that badly if you can’t behave for twenty minutes -”
Hands were grabbing at his arms, trying to pull them away from his ears, and Tommy was quickly tilting into a full-blown meltdown, mouth opening in preparation to start screaming his head off.
Before he could, hands grabbed Schlatt’s, jerking them away from Tommy. A body slid between Tommy and Schlatt, much shorter than either of them, but Tommy’s mind was instantly firing signals of safety and protection at him, and the scream fell silent before it could even begin. Bo. “That’s enough!” Tubbo snapped, his voice raised and harsh. “You can’t just grab him like that!”
“Do you seriously want to tell me how to do my job Tubbo? Get out of my way and go back to your seat, you know I like you but Tommy Soot is a troublemaker, and getting mixed up with him -”
“Tommy isn’t a trouble maker, he wasn’t hurting anyone, and you’re yelling at him for no reason!” Tubbo’s voice was leaving no room for argument. Tommy knew Tubbo wasn’t mad at him, but the tone still made him wilt, even as he reached out to grasp the back of Tubbo’s shirt, his grip weak.
“Don’t you fucking interrupt me, kid. You want me to call the principal down here?”
“Go ahead, do it,” Tubbo snapped. “We won’t be here.”
“You can’t just leave in the middle of class, this isn’t your choice to make!”
Tubbo was ignoring him now, turning to gently grasp Tommy’s arms, his expression turning more gentle, smile growing sweet as he focused on the very distressed little. “Hey Toms, can you help me put your things in your bag for me?” he questioned. His voice was sweet and a bit higher pitched, the same voice that someone would use when talking to a cute animal or a baby. He kept it lowered though, hushed so only Tommy could hear as he grabbed Tommy’s bag for him and pulled the zipper open.
Schlatt was still swearing at Tubbo’s back, storming up to the front of the room to grab his phone, even as Tubbo slipped Tommy’s worksheet inside his bag, zipping his pencil case and adding it to his bag once Tommy dropped his pencil inside. “Thanks for your help Toms!” Tubbo said cheerfully, tossing both of their bags over his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. Can you walk by yourself, just to the door at least?”
“‘Cube,” Tommy whined softly, and Tubbo shushed him gently, running a hand through Tommy’s blonde hair.
“I know, I know, but Wilby can call the school and get it back for you later,” Tubbo promised. “Don’t you want to go home?”
He did want to go home. He felt overwhelmed and icky, and the meltdown might have abated but it was still cloudy in the edges of his fuzzy head. Still, Tommy got to his feet with only a slight wobble, and Tubbo let him hold his hand as he led them out of the classroom.
Once they were in the hallway and out of sight of the rest of the students and Schlatt, Tubbo let Tommy lean more into his side, helping support him as he made a beeline right to the front of the school. “You’re doing good, Toms,” he promised as the little whined, his hand moving up to his mouth so he could suck on his sleeve again, “have you been feeling little all day long? Mhn? That must have been hard, yeah?”
“Ye,” Tommy agreed with a miserable nod. “Bad.”
“Bad day?”
Tommy made another pained noise of agreement, and Tubbo hummed lightly in comfort, running his free hand through Tommy’s hair once more. Tubbo always knew exactly what Tommy was feeling and thinking, sometimes before Tommy knew it himself.
They made it to the front doors, and Tubbo shoved them open with his shoulder, the two of them stumbling out onto the front steps of the school. Tubbo lowered Tommy to sit at the edge of the stairs and quickly sat next to him, not protesting at all as Tommy leaned into his side, pressing his head into Tubbo’s shoulders with a sniffle.
“I’m going to call Wilbur,” Tubbo warned, pulling out his phone. Tommy whined loudly, and the tears were finally starting to fall, quickly down his cheeks and onto Tubbo’s shoulder and neck. He wanted Wilbur and he was upset about bothering Wilbur, and it was too much of a confusing mixture of emotions for him to handle right now. “Aw, Toms,” Tubbo sighed softly, pulling Tommy closer into his shoulder, even as he searched for Wil’s contact on his phone.
Tommy only heard half of the conversation, and even then he was ignoring most of it, concentrating on the warm tears on his face and the fabric sensation of his sleeve in his month. He knew the phone conversation didn’t last long, Tubbo trying to coax him to stop sucking on his sleeve only a moment later. His attempts were ignored, Tommy hiccuping now as he cried against his friend, Tubbo failing to calm him down.
It felt like an eternity of tears and crying had passed (around fifteen minutes, in reality) when a worried voice called out to both of them, sounding slightly stressed out. “Tubbo? Toms?” Wilbur questioned.
“Over here!” Tubbo called back. He had been rubbing Tommy’s back for the past ten minutes, but he had still shown no signs of calming down any time soon, and Tubbo was starting to get overly tense and anxious as well, the littles sadness upsetting him in turn.
Tommy could hear the footsteps approaching, and then Wilbur was crouching down next to him, hands reaching out to grab Tommy gently and tug him away from Tubbo and into a larger, warm chest. “Hey Toms,” Wilbur greeted, voice carefully gentle, “I’m here. It’s okay, no need to cry, you’re okay. We’re gonna go home now, yeah? Let’s get away from the icky school.”
Tubbo rose to his feet once Tommy was taken, brushing off his clothes with a thankful smile directed towards Wilbur. “I’m going to head back inside, someone is going to have to talk to the principal before Schlatt can spin his story.”
“I can call the school later,” Wilbur offered, taking over the job of rubbing Tommy’s back, “that’s nothing you need to worry about Tubbo. You can come back with us if you want?”
“I need to do something or I’m going to lose my mind,” Tubbo sighed, shaking his head. “Schlatt was a huge as - er, meanie. It’s really no wonder Tommy dropped, and I’m really pissed off about it, so I need to scream for a bit. Crack some skulls in, y’know?”
“Well, call me if you need me,” Wilbur suggested. He carefully stood up, coaxing Tommy to sit up with him, Tommy leaning heavily into his side. His arms remained wrapped around Wilbur in a tight grip, refusing to let go for even a moment. Tubbo must have agreed because Wilbur was drawing Tommy away, whispering meaningless comfort into his hair as he led him back to the car.
Letting go of Tommy with one arm, Wilbur opened the back door of the car, struggling to get Tommy inside and then crawling in after him, closing the door behind him. They were both squished in the back seat, Tommy still whining and crying against Wilbur, as Wilbur reached around him to grab the bag of Tommy’s little supplies he kept in the car.
Before anything else he was pulling out wet wipes and both a pacifier and a teething toy, offering both to Tommy to see which one he preferred. Since Tommy was still feeling a bit older, he selected the chewy toy, and Wilbur looped it around Tommy’s throat and let Tommy pull it to his mouth, chewing on the soft material instead of his sleeve. Then Wilbur was focusing on his face, wiping away tears and snot with the wet wipes, humming soft concern.
“There we go,” Wilbur comforted as Tommy’s tears slowed, his expression miserable and tired from all of his crying, “no more tears, sweetheart. Can you tell me how old you are?” Tommy sniffed as he held up four fingers hesitantly, and Wilbur nodded, reaching out to ruffle Tommy’s hair gently. “Alright, hun, that’s fine. That’s good. Are you okay if I get into the front seat to drive us home -?”
At the suggestion Tommy surged forwards, practically crawling into Wilbur’s lap. The older man breathed out, shuffling around to get into a better position with the sudden added weight, his hands falling onto Tommy’s back to soothe again. “Okay, we can wait a moment,” he quickly agreed, not wanting to distress Tommy more than he already was. “Do you want any of your toys?”
Tommy was feeling a bit nonverbal at the moment. He normally talked a lot as a toddler, going on and on, but the stress of the day was catching up quickly and he felt like he was crashing. He chewed harder on his toy, letting out a tiny huff of breath mixed with a whine. It wasn’t the first time he had gone nonverbal after being overly stressed, so Wilbur easily reached for the bag again, digging out one of Tommy’s stuffed animals one-handed.
Waffle was pressed against his chest, and Tommy locked one arm around the whale, the other hand keeping its grip on Wilbur’s shirt, in case he tried to escape. “Don’t want to talk today baby?” Wilbur questioned, and Tommy nodded slightly, head falling forwards against Wilbur’s shoulder. “That’s fine. Want Wilby to tell you about his day?”
Tommy nodded again, and Wilbur was off, talking about his work for the day. He kept the story interesting, making the dramatics of someone taking his parking spot and the mystery of the missing lunch from their fridge much more interesting than it actually had been, and as more time passed by, his story was doing the trick as Tommy calmed down more, the tension easing away from him.
It still took almost twenty minutes for Tommy to let Wilbur slip him off his lap and back into his seat. Though Wilbur seemed entirely calm on the outside, anger licked his chest, teeth clenched a bit tighter than they should be, wondering what had happened at school for both Tommy and Tubbo to end up so upset. Deal with that later, he reminded himself, sighing slightly, take care of Tommy for now.
Once Tommy was seatbelted into place, his whale stuffed animal tightly tucked in his arms and his mouth still full of his chewy toy, Wilbur sat back, peeking through the bag again for anything else they might need. He could get Tommy changed into one of his little outfits as soon as they got home. For now, he grabbed a munchkin snack catcher and filled it with a handful of sweet strawberry and apple puffs, placing it on Tommy’s lap and leaning over to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Eat these on the way home if you’d like,” he offered, finally crawling out of the backseat and getting into the front driver seat.
Closing the door and starting the car, he peeked back behind him as he heard Tommy whine softly. The little’s eyes were already going glassy again, even as he removed the chew toy from his mouth to snack on the puffs.
“Right here, Toms,” Wilbur reminded him, reaching back to tap his knee and get his attention. He knew Tommy could have some separation anxiety, even when Wilbur was just a few feet away. If he wasn’t close enough to touch, Tommy could easily start panicking. “You okay baby?”
Tommy pushed the chewy toy back in his mouth to chase a few of the puffs with a tiny miserable nod. He still didn’t look away, and Wilbur felt his own anxiety deepen, even as he pulled his hand away to start backing out of the parking spot. He couldn’t properly take care of Tommy until they got home, so he had to focus on that first.
It was hard to focus on the road when Wilbur wanted to turn and check on Tommy every other second, but he managed to keep himself in check. Getting into a car accident would be worse than Tommy getting a bit fussy and upset. He did manage to sneak a few glances back at stop signs and red lights. Tommy did clean out his snack bowl quickly, which seemed to hold his attention for a short amount of time, and he was cuddling Waffle close to his chest as he chewed on his toy - but Wilbur could easily see below the outer actions.
The lines of tension and stress in his spine and shoulders, the redness around his eyes and the shiny glaze of unshed tears, the way he was still staring at Wilbur as if he were about to vanish. It was almost unnerving. Tommy was always the type of person to let everyone around him know what was going on in his head, at all times, little or big, verbal or not. Him sitting there, silent and miserable, and looking as though he had just accepted his own misery, made Wilbur’s chest ache.
He had turned on music at the start of the ride, one of the playlists he had made for Tommy when he regressed, and he sang along as they drove, keeping the sound of his voice in the air to reassure Tommy he was still there. He also may have run a few stop signs.
When he finally pulled the car up into his driveway, he was throwing the door open practically as he ripped his key out of the ignition, and moving over to open Tommy’s car door as well and unbuckle him from his seat. Tommy was tugging at his seatbelt when Wilbur opened the door, fingers finally pressing down on the machination properly with a click, and the two met as Tommy practically threw himself into Wilbur’s chest.
Wilbur breathed out sharply from the impact, but circled his arms around Tommy, lifting him easily. He got lots of practice carrying Tommy around when he was even younger, or in babyspace, it was no issue for him to balance Tommy against himself. As Tommy’s hands looped around his neck, his head burying itself into Wilbur’s shoulder again, Wilbur struggled to kick the door closed with his leg and start heading towards the front door.
He even managed to get the door open without putting Tommy down, internally giving himself a pat on the back for his caregiver skills.
They were home now. He tried to calm the anxiety in his chest again, tightening his grip slightly on Tommy. Everything would be fine.
--
As Wilbur tried to set him down on the couch Tommy whined louder, arms tightening around Wilbur’s neck. It was hard to keep a grip on Waffle and Wilbur at the same time, but he somehow managed, relentlessly. He could hear Wilbur’s shushing against his ear as he crouched, Tommy half-out of his arms, but he just whined louder. “Tommy, as much as I would love to just cuddle together, it’s going to have to wait just a little bit,” Wilbur reasoned.
Tommy hated fighting with Wilbur. Wilbur always won, no matter what he tried. Even if he shouted and screamed, Wilbur would just stand there with a calm expression until Tommy tired himself out, sitting on the ground and crying instead. Then there would be punishment.
He didn’t want punishment. He didn’t want Wilbur to watch him calmly and ask Tommy to explain himself.
Against his own best attempts, Tommy sniffled loudly and then burst into tears again. He had cried so much today and he hated it, his eyes and face felt like they were burning, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to talk, he couldn’t talk, and this was the only way he could express himself.
At the sound of his tears, Wilbur must have changed tactics, because his brother sank to sit on the floor instead, pulling Tommy more into his lap with a gentle humming noise. “Oh, honey,” he sighed, fingers gentle as they combed through Tommy’s hair, “deep breaths.”
Tommy tried, he really did. He tried to breathe past his sobs, desperate and shaking against Wilbur, managing rough inhales and exhales, but not able to take a clean breath. He had dropped Waffle when Wilbur sat down, and his fingers weakly bunched into the fabric of Wilbur’s shirt instead, leaning and pressing against his caregiver as though he could sink right into him.
Tommy unexpectedly caught his voice again, between one half-breath and the next sob. “Wilby,” he whined, desperate, needy, and Wilbur shushed him again, fingers in his hair not pausing in their comfort. “M’ sowry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. You did nothing wrong, Toms, I’m not mad with you. I know you had a rough day, yeah?”
“Bu -” Tommy stuttered, hiccuping. “Mister Nook gonna call dad,” he whined.
“Oh, that’s okay. We can figure out class stuff later on when you’re big, okay? But I promise I’m not angry at you, big or little. Everyone has bad days Toms, and Bo said your teachers weren’t being very nice either.”
“Cube,” Tommy insisted, his grip somehow tightening again.
Wilbur’s fingers paused in his hair, thoughtful. His words were still calm, soft, as he spoke. “You want your infinity cube? Is it in your school bag?”
“Gone!” Tommy’s voice broke, and he hiccuped again. Wilbur immediately shushed him, fingers shifting back into motion.
“Shhh, no worries, no worries. You’re okay, Wilby’s here darling,” he promised. “Did you drop it somewhere? Is that another bad thing that happened, you lost your cube?” Tommy shook his head no slightly, and Wilbur hummed again, clearly trying to puzzle out what happened. “Do you know where it is?” he guessed, and Tommy nodded a little. “You know where it is, but you can’t get it - did someone take it?”
Tommy nodded again. Wilbur didn’t reply right away this time, but when he did, his tone was carefully controlled. “Okay. Okay, that’s okay. I’ll get it back for you as soon as I can. Do you trust me?”
“Yea,” Tommy sniffled. He was calming down again, slowly. He felt so awful all day for that phone call, and the infinity cube had been what caused him to slip. Finally being able to admit to his caregiver what had happened, to have Wilbur soothe him and promise that he wasn’t mad, that his older brother would fix everything for Tommy… It was enough for his tears to slowly start slowing once more.
“Then I’ll get it back,” Wilbur promised. They both fell silent. Wilbur kept up his comforting motions, one hand moving down to rub Tommy’s back as the other kept playing with his hair.
As minutes passed, Tommy’s tears entirely stopped, though he was still shaking and hiccuping a bit against Wilbur’s shoulder. Every limb felt heavy and weak, and after all of his breakdowns, he was beginning to feel exhausted. When Wilbur shifted him away ever so slightly, he couldn’t even cry or whine in response. “Anything else that happened today you want to share, bubs?”
Tommy was quiet for a moment and then tapped his fingers against his stomach. The puffs in the car ride had been yummy, but he hadn’t eaten an entire meal, and his stomach was still complaining about it. Wilbur easily recognized the sign for hunger, and he nodded, ruffling Tommy’s hair gently. “Okay, I can make you something to eat. Can you sit on the couch long enough for me? I can put on a cartoon for you, what about Hilda?”
Tommy liked Hilda. He had found the lesser-known cartoon accidentally one day, and a single episode had made him slip and feel little, and it quickly became a comfort show. But he liked Wilbur more, and quickly made his displeasure shown, hands smacking and grabbing Wilbur again, giving him a puffy-eyed stare of hurt.
Wilbur winced, a frown appearing on his own face. “Toms…” he trailed off. “I won’t be long. I’ll make you something easy, okay? And I’ll peek in the room every few minutes, I’m not leaving. Then we can sit on the couch together and watch your cartoon! Doesn’t that sound nice? Don’t you wanna cuddle and watch cartoons together with a much fuller tummy?”
Well, he did want that actually, but he wanted that and he wanted Wilbur to stay with him, and it was hard for him to understand that those things couldn’t both happen at the same time. Tommy found the energy to whine again, even as Wilbur lifted him off his lap and got him seated on the couch.
“Just one episode, and I’ll be all finished up,” Wilbur promised, hands soothing back Tommy’s hair as he leaned forwards to press a kiss against his brother's forehead, affectionate. “Can you do that for me, darling?”
He didn’t want to. Even as Wilbur grabbed the television remote to get the movie set up, his brother seemed to be thinking things through, fingers tapping against his knee like he often did when he got anxious. “We can get you feeling better first,” Wilbur decided quietly to himself, pushing himself up to his feet as the first episode started playing.
Tommy switched his gaze between Wilbur and the television, stomach twisting as Wilbur vanished from the room. He tried to focus on Hilda, but his stomach was getting tighter and tighter every second Wilbur wasn’t there, something building up painfully in his throat -
Wilbur stepped into the room, a change of clothes in his hands. “Do you need help changing?” he questioned, and Tommy relaxed, sitting up more to take the clothes. He shook his head, silent and non-verbal again, and Wilbur turned away slightly to let Tommy change in privacy.
The clothes did make him feel slightly better, pulling on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and then tugging his overalls up over top of it all. They were softer than the clothes we were wearing before, not as confining and itchy against his skin. Once he had changed Wilbur vanished with his old clothes for another moment, reappearing with the rest of Tommy’s stuffed animal army, tucking all of his friends around the little as he convinced him to lay back against the couch.
Wilbur always did know how to make him feel better, relaxing against the couch, Bite held loosely to his chest, his teething toy finding its way back to his mouth. His brother smoothed his hair off his forehead again with a pleased grin, even as Tommy’s attention wandered to Hilda.
He still didn’t like it when Wilbur wasn’t next to him, even as he just moved to the next room to cook. But his brother followed through on his promise to peek back in and say hello to him every few minutes (Wilbur never broke his promises), and Tommy could smell him cooking, smell melting cheese and toast. It was grilled cheese, a meal that Tommy was always happy to accept. Hilda helped as well, watching as the girl fought to remain in her own home. He loved her pet too, the little deerfox, Twig - Wilbur had promised to get him a stuffed animal just like that for his next prize, if he kept being good.
To his surprise, by the end of the first episode, Wilbur did join him on the couch, getting Tommy to sit up against his side so he could eat his food without choking. At Tommy’s annoyed whine Wilbur laughed, fixing the stuffed animals around Tommy’s sides and laps, already prepared with a box of wet wipes to keep the kid clean as he sat back to watch Hilda for the one-millionth time.
Tommy leaned against Wilbur’s side as he ate, the grilled cheese warm and sticky against his fingers, not as warm as Wilbur’s weight at his side. Wilbur cooed and awed over Twig with him, teasing Tommy and making small jokes as the episodes progressed, Tommy giggling slightly, any last bits of unease from the day sliding away like water off the wing of a duck.
As cheese was wiped off his fingers for the last time, the plate shuffled off to the bedside table, for now, Wilbur leaned over Tommy to press a kiss against his kid brother's head again. “I love you, Toms,” he spoke up, distracting Tommy for a second from the event of Hilda trying to capture a baby troll. “No matter what happens, even if you have a bad day or slip up when you don’t want to, you know I’m always here for you, right? And I’ll let your big self know that as well. If you slip up in school you can call me right away, even if I’m busy, or it’s the middle of class - I’ll deal with any teachers that get all mean about it.”
Tommy reached for Wilbur’s hands, squeezing twice, his own silent I love you back.
It was nice, coming home at the end of a long day. Even if all else went wrong, even if everyone turned against him and Tommy felt lost and small and horrible in every way -
He knew Wilbur, his family, would always be there for him, arms open and ready to accept him no matter what.