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Beams of light trickled through the kitchen windows, bathing Wilbur in a warm glow as he stirred, raising his head from where he'd rested it on his arms. His laptop screen was dark, the battery drained from the night before. He groaned and dragged himself upwards, running a hand through his mussed curls as he yawned and stretched, looking out through the glass with bleary eyes. Their house bordered the beach, the treeline that marked the end of their garden fading into white sand merely a hundred meters ahead. The trees were a deep emerald color, the summer rain sending moss creeping over the trunks and flowers sprouting in the dunes, little specks of color amongst the dune. Not for the first time, Wilbur couldn't believe they'd managed to secure such a good spot. The real estate agent had hated Wilbur, glaring at the teen when he thought Wilbur wouldn't notice, and he'd been considerably hesitant about letting Tommy stay, but the awkward conversations had turned into business discussions, and then Wilbur was being handed a small set of keys and a map.
It was better than any school camp could have been, and Wilbur was eternally thankful he'd turned 18 the month before, old enough to take care of him and his brother. Sure, Tommy was a gremlin, but he was also adorable, especially when he was entertained. Wilbur smiled as he remembered the day before, racing Tommy through the trees to get to the sparkling blue ocean on the other side, splashing through the white foam and collapsing on their backs in the cool sand. Tommy had begged Wilbur to build a sandcastle, and how could Wilbur say no, with those wide blue eyes looking expectantly at him? They'd both been covered in sand by the end of the day, tracking back to the house with clothes damp and hair messy, but smiles stretching across their faces. Yeah, this was definitely better than a school camp.
He looked down at his laptop, picking it up carefully and scooting his chair backwards. Tommy was still asleep upstairs, and Wilbur felt a flash of guilt when he remembered he'd promised to go up and sleep when he got tired enough. He'd meant to stop, but he'd come up with some lyrics for a new song, and then he'd been so caught up in making little melodies he hadn't noticed his eyes sliding shut until his computer had gone dark and he'd been too tired to drag himself upstairs. At least the chair was comfy, with a little patterned cushion and wide arms. He stood, his legs aching from where they'd folded beneath him, and placed his computer on the bookshelf, plugging it in to charge. His parents, overprotective as they were, insisted on facetiming every night despite the fact that they were also on holiday, celebrating their anniversary in France. He didn't mind the calls, especially when he saw his little brother beaming at the screen, but having to be back by six every night was just another thing for Wilbur to worry about.
He looked up the spiral staircase, listening for signs of life, but there was nothing. He smiled slightly. Tommy must have tired himself out at the beach, then. Walking into the kitchen, Wilbur rummaged through the pantry for the pancake mix, smiling in triumph as he raised it to up to the light. Feeding an already hyperactive child sugar was probably not his smartest idea, but he'd promised Tommy pancakes! He couldn't just break his promise. He turned to close the cupboard, and his eyes caught on a small packet of chocolate chips.
"No, Wilbur," he hissed, retracting his hand. A small part of his brain, the part he really, really wanted to listen to, piped up. 'Yes, Wilbur', it said. There was a soft rustling from upstairs, and Wilbur slammed the pantry shut. If Tommy saw the chocolate chips, it would all be over for the logical side of Wilbur's brain. Sure enough, his little brother stumbled down the stairs, blanket wrapped around his torso and a small moth plushie clutched in his small hands.
"Wilbur?" he said, voice tired. Wilbur smiled, waving the pancake mix as he pulled a saucepan out of the cupboards. Tommy's face lit up, and he jumped down the last few steps, blanket falling around his legs as he slid towards Wilbur on socked feet.
"Pancakes?" he asked excitedly. Wilbur nodded.
"Pancakes, if you get dressed." Tommy pouted, and Wilbur scrunched up his nose. "Don't look at me like that, Toms."
"Fine" he huffed, and stomped up the stairs. Wilbur stifled a laugh, and looked down at the saucepan, throwing the mix into the nearest bowl. It was a miracle he had an egg in the fridge, but he'd stopped in at the farmers markets, Tommy dragging him over to the cows, so he'd gotten a few dairy items from a stand. It would just be enough for the two of them. He stirred them around absentmindedly, looking at the clock above the stove. 8 o'clock. Most shops opened around nine, so they'd have enough time to eat breakfast and walk into town, and then they could go out for morning tea. He remembered seeing an icecream shop, the classic pink and white awning drawing his eyes as they drove through on their way to the house. It had had a strange name, something about an Empire? He couldn't remember. Maybe ice cream was a bad idea, though. He didn't want a hyperactive Tommy, especially not in the morning.The mix looked stirred enough, and he tipped a few spoonfuls onto the pan, listening to the sizzle as the batter cooked through. Tommy reappeared behind him, hand sneaking for the mix.
"You can lick the spoon when I'm done, Tommy," Wilbur warned, and Tommy jerked his hand back like he'd been stung, an offended expression on his face.
"How dare you accuse me of such a thing, Wil-bur," he remarked. Wilbur smiled, flipping the first pancake and grimacing when he failed miserably. Tommy cackled evilly, the gremlin sitting on the counter as he watched Wilbur try to reshape the folded pancake.
“Great job, Wilbur” he teased. Wilbur tapped his nose, smearing batter across his cheek.
“I cannot deal with you today, gremlin.”
“It’s not my fault you stayed up all night,” Tommy retorted, hand still reaching for the batter before Wilbur could swat him away.
"Do we even have anything to put onto the pancakes?" Wilbur frowned. Tommy took his expression as an answer, grimacing before his face lit up and he grinned. "You owe me now" he said, smiling widely. Wilbur could see the gap where he'd lost a tooth in a fight with the neighbor's dog.
"What do you mean?" he asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.
"You have to get me ice cream," Tommy taunted, swinging his legs and nearly knocking the milk jug off the kitchen counter.
"And why, exactly, do I have to do that?"
"You try and poison me with pancakes, you have to buy me ice cream. That's how it works, bitch!"
Not for the first time, Wilbur regretted teaching Tommy how to swear. It certainly made it uncomfortable when little old ladies tried to talk to his brother and Tommy called them dickheads or pussies. Usually, it resulted in a lecture.
"Tommy, i'm not going to poison you," Wilbur protested, but Tommy just shook his head, fake tears welling in his eyes. Wilbur didn't even know where he'd learnt how to do that, but it had become the bane of his existence.
"Come on, Wil, there's a shop in town!" Wilbur sighed, flipping a few pancakes onto a plate and handing it to his brother. When he looked at them, they did look pretty sad without any toppings, nothing to cover the slightly blackened edges and the uneven shape. Tommy still inhaled them in seconds, handing the plate to Wilbur with a triumphant look on his face.
"Now can we go?" He begged.
Wilbur brought a piece of pancake to his mouth, stabbing another with his fork.
"Wilburrrrrrrr" Tommy pleaded. "Wilbur, king, we must get icecream". Wilbur choked on the pancake, coughing violently as he laughed.
"King?' he spluttered. Tommy raised one eyebrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, and Wilbur laughed again.
"Okay, then, little prince, we can get you some ice cream" Tommy looked offended.
"I am not a prince, you prick! I am a big man, bigger than you with your big words and your guitar. Ooh, i'm Wilbur, i write songs for girls," his little brother mocked, and Wilbur laughed even louder, his side beginning to hurt as he doubled over, pancake abandoned. Tommy smiled, victory in his eyes as he danced around the kitchen to his shoes, pulling them on without even bothering to unlace them. Wilbur pushed off from the counter, throwing his plate in the fridge. He'd have the pancake when he inevitably stayed up late again. Tommy was looking at him expectantly and he groaned, slipping on his boots and throwing an arm around his brother as he was pulled out the door, grabbing onto the handle so he could lock the door without being dragged down the driveway.
"Tommy!" he hissed as he was nearly pulled off his feet, boots skidding in the gravel. The tugging stopped, and Tommy's face peeked around from behind him with an innocent smile.
"Yes, Wilbur?" he said politely, but his tone clashed with the mischief in his eyes. Wilbur rolled his and slid his keys into his pocket, starting down the driveway with Tommy practically bouncing along beside him. Okay, so it was a really bad idea to give him more sugar. Good to know Wilbur was going to spend the rest of the day chasing his little brother around town. The road curved, passing through the dunes, and Wilbur smiled as Tommy leapt up the side of one, feet scrabbling for purchase as sand caved in around them. He sighed and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Tommy's waist and propping him up as the boy squealed and jumped the last few feet to the top of the dune. He looked out over the water, eyes sparkling. "I'm the king of the world, Wilbur" Wilbur laughed, hopping up beside him. The water stretched as far as he could see, a few gulls drifting aimlessly through the cotton candy clouds, and crabs scuttling along the tidemarks. It was peaceful here, compared to the city, where the only nature was the occasional pot plant, or the weekend walks they'd take through the city park.
"Come on!" Tommy urged from beside him, stepping backwards and sending sand spilling onto the road as he slid down, arms windmilling. "I want ice cream, I want ice cream!" he chanted, and Wilbur groaned. Couldn't he take like a fraction of Tommy's energy for his music? Wilbur ran on pure caffeine and spite, but somehow Tommy had one pancake and was set for the next couple of hours. Tommy seemed to predict his train of thought.
"You wish you could be me, bitch!" he taunted, skipping ahead eagerly. Wilbur rolled his eyes and broke into a jog, Tommy speeding up, but too late. He scooped his brother into his arms, ignoring the onslaught of tiny punches that greeted him. It was going to be a good day.
They reached town about half an hour later, Tommy's pace only slowing about halfway through the walk. It was a small town, but a busy one, the main street stretching all the way to the waterfront, with a small jetty and harbor to either side. Sailboats rocked gently back and forth in the small swell, and multicolored umbrellas dotted the beach, looking like something out of a postcard. Tommy darted forward, pointing to a small side street. There was an arcade, and a bookstore, a steady stream of customers coming in and out of both.
"Can we go?" he asked, and Wilbur hesitated.
"Maybe later, Toms? They seem pretty busy right now." Tommy pouted, but looked ahead to the next shop and immediately perked up. Wilbur's eyes widened in horror. They had plushies. Oh god. Tommy was already at the stand, sifting through the piles of soft animals to pull out........a spider? Wilbur took a step back, but Tommy held the spider plushie up to his face, cooing to it like it was cute, which it was most certainly not. The legs were slightly uneven, the color looked faded and worn, but Tommy beamed down at the plushie, turning wide eyes on Wilbur, and he knew the plushie was coming home with them, whether he wanted it or not. He pulled out his wallet and moved towards the counter, hearing Tommy chattering behind him.
"I'm going to name you Shroud," he declared, a smile stretching wide across his face. He clutched the plushie close to his chest, Wilbur having to forcibly tug it away from him so the apprehensive worker could scan it, but they finally paid, and then they were out on the street again, basking in the warm sunlight as they strolled towards the beach. Pink and white striped awning flashed in the corner of his eye, and he turned, seeing the ice cream shop from before. The name leapt into his mind a second before he saw the sign. 'The Antarctic Empire' It was a strange name for an ice cream shop that could definitely be considered tropical, but who was Wilbur to judge. At least it was original. He heard, rather than saw, the moment Tommy's eyes found the shop. His breath audibly stuttered and he swung back to Wilbur, tugging on his hand as his eyes gave him the look.
"Wilbyyyyyyyy" Tommy pleaded, and Wilbur laughed.
"Wilby?" Tommy seemed to realize his mistake, eyes going wide.
"No...no!"
"Did you just fucking call me Wilby?" Wilbur exclaimed through gales of laughter. Tommy shook his head frantically.
"Oi, dickhead!" he protested, a mother pulling her child away and looking scandalized. "I did not fucking call you Wilby" Wilbur laughed again, tears streaming from his eyes.
"It's okay, Tommy!" he reassured, locking an arm around Tommy's shoulders and ruffling his already messy hair as his brother glared up at him with bright eyes. "You can call me Wilby if you want!" Tommy just glared, pulling Wilbur towards the shop. They burst through the doors to a small tinkle, a bell hanging above heralding their arrival. Wilbur looked around with wide eyes. The decorations inside were.....varied. There were windchimes hanging by the window, the slight breeze sending small tunes across the shop, and large oil paintings hung on the walls, of an icy fortress, and a flag hung from one wall, presumably one they'd created themselves. The chairs were mismatched, and so were the table, a kaleidoscope of different colours and shapes. He turned his gaze to the counter, where tubs of icecream were displayed proudly, each one neatly labeled. There was only one worker behind the counter, bubblegum pink hair pulled back into a braid and tucked under a crown. Tommy ran up to the display case, pressing his nose against the glass, and the guy huffed, but there was a small smile working at the corner of his mouth.
Wilbur pulled Tommy back.
"Tommy, be polite," he warned. Tommy pouted.
"I want to look at the flavours, Wilbur." Wilbur looked up at the worker, who raised his eyebrows.
"He doesn't mind, do you.....Techno? What kind of name is Techno?" Tommy said incredulously. Wilbur's eyes widened and he looked to the worker, expecting anger, but he didn't seem ruffled, just waiting for them to order. He straightened up, looking at the display case. There was one that caught his eye, a blue syrup mixed with vanilla ice cream and topped with nuts and honeycomb. It was called the Antarctic, so Wilbur assumed they'd made the flavour. Techno caught his line of sight.
"Phil made that one," he said gruffly. "It's pretty good." Tommy looked at it, and then back at the tub he'd been eyeing.
"I'll get that one, then" Wilbur said, turning to his brother. "Tommy?" Tommy looked up at him.
"Give me the double chocolate, big man," he announced. Wilbur groaned, and the worker looked even more amused at his pain, reaching into the case to scoop up a loaded spoonful.
"Cup or cone?" he asked.
"Cup, please. For both of us" He'd spotted Tommy gazing longingly at the chocolate topped cone, but if he had any more sugar the kid wasn't going to sleep that night, so Wilbur wasn't going to give in to his puppy eyes for once.
“Wilburrrrr,” he whined, and Wilbur flicked his nose with the hand not holding his wallet.
“Stop complaining, gremlin”. Tommy must have guessed he wasn’t going to get anywhere by complaining, because he leaned over the counter, pointing an accusing finger at the man’s badge.
“Is that a pride flag?” he asked curiously. Techno frowned, looking to Wilbur, who shrugged. “Yeah?” Techno said guardedly. Tommy grinned.
“LGBTQ is pogchamp, man!” he cheered. Techno looked at Wilbur again.
‘Pogchamp?’ he mouthed. Wilbur huffed quietly.
“Enough bothering the man, Tommy”.
“But he’s cool, Wilbur. Look at his hair!” Tommy turned to Techno, who took the tiniest step back. “I wanted to dye my hair red, but Wilbur said no.”
“That’s horrible” Techno mock gasped. “Wilbur, how could you?” he monotoned. Tommy grinned.
“I like him, Wilbur. Can we keep him?”
“You can’t just collect people, Tommy. They aren’t like your plushies” Wilbur reprimanded. A laugh came from behind him, and Wilbur spun, meeting the eyes of another man, a green striped bucket hat tipped low over his face.
“What’s this about collecting Techno?” the man asked, a smile on his face. Tommy bounded in front of Wilbur.
“Wilbur’s being a bitch” he said eagerly. The man laughed again.
“And who are you, mate?”
“His name is Tommy” Wilbur cut in before Tommy could spout any of his bullshit middle names. It didn’t seem to work, and he watched in disbelief as Tommy listed all of the names, he’d chosen for himself.
“……Kraken Danger Innit” he finished triumphantly, and Wilbur sighed in defeat, grabbing his ice-cream off the counter and sinking his small spoon in. The man was still laughing.
“Nice to meet you, mate. My name’s Phil, I own this business.” He held out a hand, and Tommy grabbed onto it, yanking the man down to his height.
“You are the only man ever” he whispered.
“Thanks, mate?” Wilbur gave up, focusing instead on scooping his ice cream into his mouth as fast as he could. It was amazing, the cream melting in his mouth as he slowed, savouring the last few bites. Phil smiled at him.
"Like the ice cream, mate?" Wilbur nodded wordlessly. "I made that one with my wife," he said, pulling a chair over and sinking into it. "She made the syrup, and decided to dye it blue, so it could fit the flag" he pointed up to the wall, where the flag was proudly displayed.
"I like your flag." Tommy piped up. "Wilbur, can we get a flag?"
"We don't have a country, Tommy," Wilbur said, exasperated but fighting a smile. Tommy's brow furrowed.
"I will start a country," he announced, "and I would name it Pogtopia," There was a brief silence, and then the shop erupted into laughter. Tommy pretended to pout, sinking his teeth into his little spoon, but his mouth tilted upwards. Wilbur was running on about three hours of sleep, and he was going to be running after Tommy for hours after this, but he was happy here, laughing with two ice cream shop owners he'd only met ten minutes ago. This summer was going to be a good one, he was sure of it.