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"Will, can I talk to you?"
Wilbur looks back from his computer to find Tommy fidgeting in the doorway to his room. His lips tug down in a frown and he pushes his chair away from the desk, turning it to face his boyfriend.
"Of course," Wilbur tilts his head towards his bed, "Do you want to sit down?"
Tommy jerks his head in a stiff nod, still not quite looking him in the eye, and Wilbur's worry deepens. This isn't like Tommy. Even when the kid had confessed his feelings he hadn't avoided Wilbur's gaze--stuttered and blushed, certainly, but despite it all he was far too headstrong to do anything other than demand Wilbur's full attention.
Tommy sits on the bed, eyes glued to the floor, and Wilbur waits for him to say something, anything, but the room only lingers in tense silence.
"Toms..." Wilbur says softly, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and ducking his head to try and catch a glimpse of Tommy's face, "Sunshine. What's wrong?"
"It's not--" Tommy halts, struggling with words in a way Wilbur had never seen before, "Nothing. Nothing is wrong . Everything is great, actually, really really good, and that's why I wanted to... to talk."
"Okay," Wilbur says, "That's, um, good. What do you want to talk about?"
The tense quiet from earlier returns, and Tommy is so tense Wilbur is a little concerned he's just going to flee from the room. A sick twist of nerves contorts Wilbur's gut.
"Is this... Do you want to stop what we're doing? Have I done something wrong?" He asks cautiously, not sure he wants to hear the answer but determined to give Tommy the chance to say it regardless.
Tommy's head shoots up and Wilbur finally gets a look at those brilliant blue eyes.
"No!" Tommy blurts, "No, no you haven't done anything, and I definitely want to keep doing this. This isn't anything like that, Will. I swear."
A bit of tension drains out of Wilbur's shoulders and he nods, giving Tommy what he hopes is an encouraging smile.
"Alright, then what can I do for you, love?"
Tommy smiles a bit at that, shaky and nervous but a smile nonetheless.
"I, um, I wanted to, ah... try something."
Wilbur tilts his head, "Try something?"
"Like, like in bed," the words rush out of Tommy so awkward and quick Wilbur almost doesn't catch them, "Or, well, not really in bed . Like outside of bed but, well, you get what I mean. A-and it's not really even sex or anything like that, I promise. I just saw this video and then I couldn't stop thinking about it and I did some research online--"
"Tommy," Wilbur cuts him off with half a laugh in his voice, "Breathe, darling."
Tommy huffs out a deep breath of air and by the time he's finished Wilbur has started speaking again.
"Fuck, Toms, is that what you've been practically falling to pieces to tell me since you walked in?" Wilbur says, "I thought you were breaking up with me or something terrible had happened."
Tommy at least has the decency to look a bit sheepish.
"Sorry," He offers, and Wilbur shakes his head, fondness practically dripping off the older man.
"So," Wilbur starts, his lips tugging into a smile, "You've been researching--"
"Oh shut up," Tommy's face is practically burning and Wilbur laughs.
"It's good!" He insists, "Being informed is important with shit like this. I'm not mocking you, sunshine... even if the thought of you studying kinks behind my back is adorable."
"Yeah, well, sue me for not wanting to look like an idiot," Tommy mumbles before clearing his throat, "Look, I just want to know if you would be interested in anything. Y'know. Weird."
"Weird," Wilbur deadpans and Tommy scowls.
"You know what I mean!"
Wilbur laughs again, "Yes, I do."
"So?" Tommy pushes, looking more impatient than nervous now.
Wilbur hums and the teasing mischief eases into something more thoughtful as he leans back in his chair.
"Well," Wilbur starts slowly, "I'm not opposed. Obviously it depends on what it is. What did you have in mind? I will warn you I'm not very... submissive, though if you really wanted to experiment I would be willing to try," He tacks on, amused when Tommy's eyes widen.
"Wait, so you've like... done shit like this before?" Tommy says, and Wilbur's nose scrunches up a bit as he moves his hand in a so so motion.
"I had a girlfriend who liked a, ah, firmer hand," Wilbur says, "But nothing really exciting. Handcuffs and shit, some discipline, but that's about it."
"Oh," Tommy seems to be fidgeting even more on the bed now, but Wilbur can't help but notice the fidgeting seems to be leaning more towards anticipation than anxiety.
"Well, um, that sounds poggers--" Wilbur puffs out a laugh but doesn't interrupt, "--definitely want to, uh, look into that, but that's not exactly what I wanted to talk about."
Oh. Well, now Wilbur's intrigued.
He hadn't been expecting much from Tommy, especially with how surprisingly conservative the boy had been with anything sexual thus far, but clearly whatever it is that has consumed Tommy's mind goes beyond the basic, expected kink scene.
"I have dogs," Tommy blurts out and Wilbur blinks, reeling a bit from the sudden change of subject.
"...yeah," He says, "I know you have dogs, Tommy. I've met them."
"No, that's not--" Tommy cuts off with a huff of frustration, "Obviously you know I have dogs dipshit, but it's... okay, so, I have dogs and, and they just get to be dogs."
Wilbur stares at Tommy and Tommy stares right back as if Wilbur should suddenly understand what the hell Tommy is talking about.
"Toms, where are you going with this?"
"I--" Tommy cuts off again and a upset noise that sounds startlingly like a whine slips out, but Tommy has started talking again before Wilbur can think too much about it, "They just get to be dogs, and it's easy and they don't have to-to think, or edit videos, or worry about merch, or if everyone hates them, and they get taken care of and pet and played with and, and it's just nice."
Tommy looks a bit desperate now, eyes pleading with Wilbur to catch on. Funny enough, it's exactly that look that clues Wilbur in.
Puppy dog eyes, his brain supplies, and just like that it clicks.
"Toms," He says softly, "Do you... do you want to be a dog?"
Tommy flushes deeper than Will has ever seen, and his eyes go back to being glued to the floor, his fingers gripping onto the fabric of his jeans like it's a lifeline.
"Your dog," Tommy mumbles, and Wilbur tilts his head, "I don't, I don't just want to be a dog. I want to be your dog, Wilby."
As Tommy says that final name he looks up, eyes peering through slightly wet lashes and Wilbur's mouth goes completely dry.
"Oh," Wilbur says softly, feeling a bit disconnected all of the sudden.
"...is that okay?"
Wilbur's heart just about melts out of his chest when he hears Tommy's meek, hesitant question.
"It would only be sometimes," Tommy tacks on as if he needs to sell the idea, as if Wilbur hasn't been completely sold on anything Tommy could have ever wanted since the moment Tommy joined Wilbur's voice call nearly three years ago.
"And you wouldn't even have to do much, but sometimes I feel like I'm going insane and I just want to, to--" Tommy fumbles with the words, frustration more and more obvious with each passing moment, "--I don't know, curl up and your feet or on the couch or play but not as a person. I want to hand someone all the tangled up pieces that make up me, and forget that I'm anything other than theirs. "
Tommy pauses and stares at Wilbur, with wide vulnerable eyes filled with cautious hope, "You're the only person that I trust enough to do that."
The trust that Tommy is offering should terrify Wilbur, but the only thing he's feeling right now is awe at the person in front of him who seems to think Wilbur is worthy of that much confidence.
"Toms," Wilbur starts, standing and crossing the space between them before crouching at the edge of the bed to bring their faces level. He cups Tommy's face with one palm, "Of course we can try it."
"Really?" Tommy asks weakly, and Wilbur adores him even more for it.
"Really," He confirms, smiling, "I can't promise I'll be very good at it, but I'm sure it won't be too hard. After all, you're going to be such a good puppy for me, aren't you?"
Wilbur says the words with confidence even though he's feeling anything but. He wants, needs, Tommy to feel safe, and that means throwing himself head first into this, mistakes be damned.
Luckily, this time it seems Wilbur has struck true because Tommy's eyes manage to widen further, and a blush stains his cheek.
"I-yeah, yes," Tommy breathes, "Mhm."
Wilbur can't help the fond laugh that escapes, and when Tommy ducks down to hide his face in Wilbur's shoulder he only coos softly.
"My good boy," Wilbur praises, and Tommy's hands tug weakly on his shirt--an encouragement? A plea? Wilbur isn't sure, "C'mon, darling--"
He stands, tugging a pliant Tommy with him.
"--I'm gonna turn on a show, and you're going to keep me company."
When they reach the couch, Wilbur drags a few blankets and pillows over, fiddling with the arrangement before plopping down, but Tommy lingers in the doorway looking unsure.
Wilbur doesn't let himself think too hard about the situation. What would he do if Tommy really was a dog?
He whistles softly and pats the couch next to him, "Come on, Toms. Up on the couch."
When Tommy doesn't move, still looking a bit dazed, Wilbur frowns.
"Come," He says firmly, louder than before, and Tommy jolts, eyes snapping to Wilbur's, and after the a beat of silence--just long enough for Wilbur to wonder if he's gone to far--Tommy pads over to the couch.
He crawls on top, curling up and plopping his head onto Wilbur's lap with a pleased hum.
"Good boy," Wilbur murmurs, carding his fingers through Tommy's hair mindlessly.
I never wanted a pet, Wilbur thinks a few hours later after Tommy has drifted off, smiling to himself in the dark living room illuminated only by the rolling credits of whatever random documentary he had clicked on.
But maybe having a dog isn't so bad.