Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One of the constants that Wilbur knew was that the world was cold and cruel.

Wilbur had spent his whole life bouncing from foster home to foster home, only to end up on the streets the day after he turned eighteen. Nobody had wanted him, not when he was a problem child. Too loud, too much anxiety, too many questions— they didn’t want that. They wanted a perfect child that would listen and sit there and look pretty when they had friends over.

That was never Wilbur. He would rather be cast aside than become that, so he was. And after he was on his own for the first time, he began to fend for himself and only himself.

There was kindness in the world too, but Wilbur experienced it in fleeting moments. Sometimes, the pink haired waitress at a diner two blocks away from where Wilbur would camp out would sneak him leftovers when he visited. Niki was her name, but as much as Wilbur would’ve loved to get to know her more, she was busy trying to provide for her and her little brother, and Wilbur didn’t want to bother her with another problem.

Occasionally, someone would tip him extra when he played on the streets and stick around a little longer than the rest. Treat him like he was human and not someone who didn’t even deserve to be looked in the eyes. Wilbur liked that— craved it in fact. It was some semblance of human interaction- which was so painfully rare for him these days. He might’ve had anxiety burning in his chest even on a good day, but the extrovert in him needed to talk to people as much as he needed to breathe.

It was a rough and lonely life, but Wilbur wasn’t ready for the world to take him out yet. He spent his whole life fighting tooth and nail just to exist, and he would be damned if he didn’t make it to a point in his life where he finally had some stability. A job, friends, a warm and safe place to sleep at night- he ached for it and even on the most cold and bitter nights, it kept him going.

For years, Wilbur survived off of spite and determination, as well as whatever he could manage to scrape together.

And then there was Tommy.

It was nearing the end of fall and closing in on winter when Wilbur had met him. He was sitting outside one of the places that let him perform during the day, singing a few popular songs in an attempt to earn a few extra bucks. Most walked by, a couple paused to listen to his music before they passed, but Wilbur did have a few bucks left in his guitar case to show for it so it wasn’t a loss.

So Wilbur initially didn’t think much of it when a teenager stopped to listen. He kept his eyes down, singing softly as he strummed a familiar tune and let himself get lost in the music.

It took him around two songs to realize the teenager had been standing there for a long time. Longer than most would anyways. At most, someone might listen to the end of the song, politely leave a dollar or two, then go on their way. This kid showed no sign of leaving and was staring directly at him when he looked up.

He had to be around fifteen if Wilbur had to guess. He had a puffy, red coat on with a green scarf tied around his neck and a bandaid on his nose. His eyes were bright blue and unwavering, and when the sun hit his hair, it looked like it was made of gold.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “Enjoying the show?”

The teenager squinted at him, scrunching up his face like he was deciding right then and there. Then gave a firm nod of approval, as if he were some critic of the arts himself and his word was law.

It almost made Wilbur laugh, but he held it back, opting for a pleased smile instead. “I’m glad.”

“Do you take requests?” The teenager blurts out at last.

“Sure, if you’re willing to tip.” Wilbur waved a hand over his guitar case.

He had been mostly joking but to his surprise, the teenager began to dig through his pockets before pulling out a dollar and dropping it in the case. He then turned to Wilbur, grinning from ear to ear and announced, “Do you know the Able Sisters Theme? From Animal Crossing?”

“That’s a video game, isn’t it?” The teenager nodded eagerly. “Haven’t played many of those so as much as I hate to say it, no. I’m not familiar.”

The teenager frowned, and Wilbur could see the gears turning in his head. “Well… If I hummed it for you, would you be able to play it?”

Wilbur considered that, then shrugged. “Worth a shot. How does it go?”

The teenager began to hum an upbeat tune. It was a little difficult to follow at first but hesitantly, Wilbur began to copy it to the best of his ability. Judging from the beaming look in his eye, the teenager was more than happy with his efforts, and Wilbur began to play more confidently.

When the song was over, the teenager was full of newfound energy Wilbur hadn’t seen in him before. “That was amazing!” The teenager told him excitedly. “So fucking cool!”

“I try.” Wilbur tried to remain humble but his pride had not felt this high in a long time, and he couldn’t help but revel in it. “Any other requests?”

The teenager opened his mouth, then abruptly paused. “Hold on,” he told Wilbur, then dug a phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen for a moment. His smile fell. “Shit. My dad’s worried about me, I gotta get home before he gets a heart attack or something. He’s old and fragile, you know?”

Wilbur couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The kid was his most active participant in months- maybe longer. But, all good things eventually came to an end. Wilbur knew that better than anybody.

“Do you do this often or..?” The teenager spoke up, catching Wilbur’s attention.

“Most mornings and afternoons, you can find me here.” Wilbur confirmed.

“Fuck yeah.” His grin returned. “I’m Tommy by the way.”

“Wilbur.”

“Wilbur— got it! See you around, yeah?”

Wilbur waved Tommy off, watching him leave. As cold as it was, Wilbur couldn’t find it in him to care. Some kid liked his music— paid to hear him play and might even return in fact. That felt good.

Wilbur had something to look forward to the coming week. That was new.

—

True to his word, Tommy returned two days later, holding a fistful of wrinkled dollar bills in one hand and a list of song requests with the other, ranging from a few popular songs to a couple Wilbur had never even heard of. Nonetheless, he indulged Tommy each time, playing songs he was unfamiliar with by following Tommy’s hum or whatever instrumental Tommy pulled up on his phone.

It was nice. Wilbur hadn’t had this good of company in far too long. He missed being treated like a person, not a problem or an obstacle in the road. Like he was worthy of attention.

With one last dollar in hand, Tommy skimmed his list before a frown formed on his face. “That was all of my ideas. Must’ve counted wrong when I was taking money out.”

“You could repeat one?” Wilbur suggests. Tommy doesn’t respond to that, squinting as if he’s deep in thought.

“Do you have any songs?” Tommy asks at last. “Like, songs that you made?”

Wilbur nods. Tommy deposits the last dollar into his guitar case and nods at him. “Play one of them.”

That gets him to hesitate. He’s never actually played any of his songs in front of people before. They haven’t been perfected yet, Wilbur’s still in the beta stages of creating them.

But Tommy looks at him expectantly and… He’s as good of an audience as any.

So Wilbur plays. His fingers loosen up the longer he strums, feelings flooding back to him and overriding the nerves keeping him from singing. His voice comes out a bit quieter than he intends but it’s enough that Tommy can hear him. It’s a song just for the two of them to hear.

When it ends, Wilbur doesn’t look up. He doesn’t know what he’ll see, what Tommy will say about one of the songs he poured his heart into. Regret hits him, causing his throat to feel tight to the point where he can’t breathe—

“That was amazing, Wilbur!” His eyes snap open, catching the excited gaze of Tommy. “Good shit! Genuine shit— I liked it a lot!”

Relief floods his chest, leaving Wilbur breathless. He can’t bring himself to say anything, he just smiles and tries not to kneel over and collapse right then and there.

He liked it.

He liked it.

Wilbur spent ages agonizing over his music, eventually growing so numb to how it sounded that he felt like tearing his hair out. But this kid barely knows him and he says he likes it and—

That means something.

His music may not be such a lost cause as he felt it was after all.

—

Wilbur figured that Tommy would get bored and move on soon enough but is pleasantly surprised when he visits regularly. Sometimes with more requests and what Wilbur assumes his allowance in hand, and sometimes he just listens to whatever Wilbur plays and keeps him company.

Wilbur offers to play for Tommy for free but he insists on paying him anyway. If Wilbur weren’t tight on money, he might’ve pushed harder but Tommy’s contribution alone has kept him consistently with warm food in his belly for once, and Wilbur isn’t quite ready to give that up yet.

He has started to see him outside of his usual place too. Luckily nowhere near where Wilbur camps out, because as much as he enjoys Tommy’s company, he doesn’t need the pity, but sometimes when he’s out getting meals or a warm drink. Tommy will often plop himself down without asking if he can and start talking to him while he eats. Had it been anyone else, Wilbur might’ve been annoyed, but it’s endearing with Tommy. He listens to every word, regardless if his rant makes sense or not.

Tommy has a lot to say, and slowly, Wilbur learns more about him and his life. He’s in High School and talks about his friends Tubbo and Ranboo quite a bit. He has a father and older brother who worry about him all the time and goes on a rant about how he’s not a baby anymore, but a big man. There’s some sort of ‘Family Legacy’ he’s meant to take on one day but Tommy fails to elaborate what exactly that is other than he’s gonna be the ‘Big Man in charge’ one day. He also goes on a long winded rant about highland cows for two hours alone.

Wilbur doesn’t really know why Tommy chooses to hang around him of all people, but the more they hang out, the less he questions it. Tommy becomes a constant in his life and Wilbur accepts it.

He’s tried to buy him food before as a sort of ‘Thank you’ for giving him half the funds he has but somehow, Tommy always ends up buying him something. Says he has funds to spare and Wilbur doesn’t have to worry about a thing. He’s given up in trying to talk him out of it.

It felt perfect. Like Tommy wormed his way in a place in his heart and filled a space he hadn’t known he was missing. Like he’s almost family.

And then it all changes on one shitty morning.

Most people ignore Wilbur where he camps out, never looking at him in the eyes as they pass. He’s dealt with that for a long time so it doesn’t bother him anymore, but occasionally, some asshole will take one look at him and see him as an easy target to take their anger out on.

Wilbur wakes up to ice cold water splashed in his face. He flails, alarmed by the sudden sensation and is immediately left with jeering laughter overwhelming his newly awoken senses and snaps his head to where it originates. He’s met with a bunch of lengthy teenagers with cruel grins and malicious glints in their eyes.

They don’t stick around for long but one of them breaks one of the poles in his tent as another spits insults at him, calling him ‘Pathetic’ and ‘Lazy’ and a ‘Crazy junkie’ as well as plenty of other dehumanizing terms. They leave as quickly as they arrive, snatching some of the money in his guitar case, leaving Wilbur fuming in place and barely keeping his cool. Blowing up at them will only put him in a bad light, so he keeps his mouth shut and begins wiping the water off of his face.

“…Wilbur?”

Then he hears a familiar voice and he freezes. Slowly, he looks up and immediately wishes he were anywhere else but here.

Tommy stares at him, eyes wide with shock. Wilbur looks away, fists tightening at his sides before he lets out a huff and begins to try and make himself look more presentable.

“Tommy.” He greets shortly. “Good morning.”

“Wilbur, what the fuck just happened? Who were those shitheads— and why didn’t you tell them off?” Anger twists in his voice. “Don’t just sit there- or do you want me to go knock them out for you? Y’know, Techno has been training me lately and I’ve got a mean right hook that’ll knock them the fuck out and into next Tuesday!”

“Tommy, it’s fine.” Wilbur tells him before he can do anything rash. It only serves to make Tommy scoff.

“Fine? Fine? Wilbur, nothing about that was fucking fine. Those fucking—” Tommy trails off with a frustrated noise, a string of curses following that Wilbir only half hears. Then, there’s a beat of silence before he asks, “Why are you sleeping in a tent anyways? Is this some sort of… Musician thing? Immersing yourself with the city or some shit?”

Wilbur squeezes his eyes shut.

“…Wilbur?” Another beat. “Wilbur, are you homeless?”

“Yes.” Wilbur snaps. He doesn’t mean to and he knows Tommy doesn’t mean it like that but it feels scathing. People have always looked down upon him whenever they knew he was homeless. It burns him up thinking about how that could shatter the one reliable relationship he has. “But I’m doing perfectly fine for myself.”

“Wilbur—”

“I want to be alone right now, Tommy.”

Wilbur finally looks up and meets the fire burning in Tommy’s eyes. He can tell there’s a fight in him— so much more to say— but nothing comes out. He looks away first, giving a short nod, and is gone before Wilbur knows it.

And Wilbur is left alone. Like he wanted.

And he’s never felt worse.

—

Tommy doesn’t bring it up next time he sees him. He acts as if nothing happened and Wilbur… Doesn’t know how to feel about that.

It feels like it’s hanging in the air and over Wilbur’s head, an invisible blade just waiting to strike but hasn’t yet. He doesn’t know if he wants to prolong it as long as he can or get it over with already and feel the pain now so he can get it over with.

But there is a change to how Tommy treats him now, even if he doesn’t talk about it. Because Tommy begins tipping him more than ever before.

He slips twenties over to Wilbur any chance he gets, refusing to take them back. He frequently tries to give Wilbur gifts— little things at first like new guitar picks before adding up to a whole new blanket, where Wilbur finally puts his foot down and makes Tommy take it back.

He doesn’t like this change but he doesn’t know how to go back. Not without talking to him.

Which leaves him with only one choice.

“Tommy,” Wilbur finally says, sitting him down at the diner he frequents. Niki just served them their drinks and had given Wilbur a warm greeting before returning to her work. “I know what you’re trying to do and I want you to stop.”

Tommy shifts in his seat. “Stop what?” He asks, but he’s poor at keeping a poker face. It’s obvious he knows exactly what Wilbur is talking about.

He sighs deeply. “The gifts, Tommy.”

“What, I can’t give people I care about gifts now? I’ll have you know my language of caring or whatever is gift giving. I do this to everyone!”

“But you’ve been excessive about it to me ever since you learned I was homeless.” Wilbur narrows his eyes and sees Tommy’s demeanor begin to crack. “I’m twenty years old, Tommy. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you to try and provide for me.”

“But— those two dickheads— you just let them fuck with you!” Tommy’s voice raises to a shout. Wilbur has to quiet him down with a hush.

“They were dicks but they don’t matter in the long run. They don’t mean anything— I’m fine anyhow. I fixed my tent.”

“Are they the only ones who have ever done that sort of thing?” Tommy challenges. “Do they just push you around or has anyone ever gotten violent with you?”

Wilbur doesn’t answer. Tommy reads in between the lines and clenches his fists so hard that his knuckles turn white.

“It’s not fucking right. They shouldn’t get to treat you like that! Not without getting some fucking karma for it!”

“Tommy, reacting to people like that will only make things worse for me. There’s nothing you can do.”

Tommy looks away from him, anger palpable from where Wilbur is sitting. Wilbur manages to change the topic and get in a decent conversation through the rest of the meal but Tommy ends up heading straight home after they leave.

Wilbur watches him walk away with a huff. Tommy’s a good kid but he doesn’t get what the world is really like. Wilbur knows just how cruel it can be and won’t be tricked into false hope.

He knows better than to believe in good things with no conditions.

—

The next day, Wilbur sits himself in his usual spot and just begins one of his songs when Tommy shows up. He’s pleasantly surprised that there’s a skip in his step.

“Tommy,” Wilbur gives him a nod, “What’s got you so chipper?”

“Wilbur, how would you feel about dinner with my family at my place?” Tommy asks, eyes holding a fire brighter than they’ve ever been.

Wilbur finds himself choking in surprise. “What?”

“Dinner! With my Dad and Techno!” Tommy repeats, grinning from ear to ear. “Later tonight or tomorrow if you’re busy.”

Wilbur states, slowly processing his words to make sure he’s hearing him right. “You… Want me to meet your family?”

“Yes! I’ve been talking about you a lot and Dad said you should come over so he could properly meet you! Plus he’s a fucking god at cooking so he’s gonna make dinner.” Tommy then briefly drops his smile and gives Wilbur a serious look. “You’re important to me so I want you to meet my family. I know you said I can’t do anything about your situation but I can at least introduce you to a few more people who will root for you, yeah?”

Wilbur blinks in surprise at his honesty, then lets out a short laugh. “You really think they’ll like me?”

“No fucking shit. I like you and they’re just as batshit as me so ‘course they’ll like you.”

“Batshit?” Wilbur echoes, another laugh bubbling to his chest. “What exactly am I getting into?”

Tommy grins again. “Is that a yes?”

He looks so hopeful that Wilbur can’t seem to find a single reason to say no. “Yeah, sure. I can do tonight.”

Tommy lets out a victory cheer. “I’ll go tell my Dad to start preparing the food now— he’s gonna make us a feast!”

Tommy nearly leaves but backtracks and hands Wilbur a small handwritten invitation, bearing an address and time to show up. Then he scampers off and Wilbur can’t help but laugh at just how excited the kid is.

Wilbur reads the invitation over a few times, feeling something warm sprout in his chest. It feels like a breath of fresh air— or a new beginning.

Chapter Text

Wilbur was well aware that when it came to money, Tommy was better off. While he wasn’t exactly extravagant, he never hesitated to tip Wilbur or buy him things.

Not to mention while Tommy wore good clothing brands, he was never flashy. At most, Wilbur assumed his family was upper middle class and well off to the point where Tommy had never had to worry about money. So with this knowledge, Wilbur dressed himself in the nicest thing he had. He didn’t own a suit or anything like that, but he had a particularly nice sweater vest that was sure to make a good first impression.

Wilbur however, did not anticipate just how rich Tommy’s family really was.

The invitation welcomed him to the ‘Crow Family Residence’ and despite knowing Tommy for quite a while now, Wilbur realized he had never actually caught his last name. ‘Crow’ felt familiar somehow but Wilbur dismissed it initially. Didn’t think about it as he made his way to the edge of town as the invitation instructed.

According to the directions, their place was a little out of town. Wilbur assumed it was just a little off the beaten path when he was directed onto an off road away from the city but stumbled to a stop when he caught a clear view of the place.

Wilbur knew Tommy was well off.

Wilbur did not know Tommy was apparently a goddamn rich kid.

‘The Crow Residence’ was a mansion just outside of town. One with a paved road, walls surrounding it, and a gate at the very front. It had to be three stories tall and wider than the average apartment building. It’s was beautiful and expensive and hedges shaped to look like birds and—

Wilbur abruptly felt terribly out of place.

His heart thumps wildly in his chest as he swallows down bile in his throat. It hits him all at once and he now knows exactly why he recognizes that last name. The Crows— also known as the descendants of one of their city’s founders. Their name holds power and respect. Even if none of them hold jobs on the City Council anymore, they’ve always had a seat at the table. Their opinion can sway the hearts of the masses.

And apparently not only is Tommy a part of that family but they want to have him over. For dinner.

Him, a nobody. Just another body that sleeps wherever the city lets him until they inevitably decide he has to move because looking at him makes them feel bad. And it’s far easier to shove him in a space where he won’t be seen instead of fixing anything.

Wilbur can’t move. He doesn’t want to make a terrible impression by not showing up at all but this is a lot more than he bargained for. Not just a family dinner of someone who he’s started to see as a little brother but people with impact on the entire city.

Wilbur doesn’t hear the car approaching until it honks. He jumps, spinning around and trying not to look like a deer in headlights. The windows are tinted so he can’t see inside but someone poked their head out of the driver seat. Someone who looks only a few years older than him and has long, pink hair.

“Hey,” he calls out to Wilbur, “You wouldn’t happen to be Wilbur, would you?”

Wilbur is quick to regain his composure and nod. He sends a small smile his way. “That would be me, yeah. Sorry, am I in your way?”

The pink haired guy just shrugs, then beckons him. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to the house. It’s a bit of a long walk.”

If he knows him by name, Wilbur is banking on him having some sort of association with Tommy. He hesitates but does end up slipping into the front seat. It’s a nice car, if not intimidating. It’s a black SUV with tinted windows which makes Wilbur a little nervous, but on the inside it’s got a few little trinkets on the dashboard. The most notable being a small pig seemingly stuck there to ensure it won’t slide around.

“I’m Techno by the way.” He says as Wilbur buckled up. The name is not lost on Wilbur.

“Tommy’s big brother?” Techno nods. “Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, man! And thanks for the ride!”

“Likewise and it’s no big deal.” Techno sends a small but genuine smile back. “Tommy talks about you a lot. Doesn’t shut up about you sometimes. You must be something special if you got his attention like that.”

Warmth floods Wilbur’s heart and a bubbly laugh escapes him. “I would like to think so but you’ll have to judge for yourself.”

There’s someone at the gates who quickly verifies Techno before opening them. Wilbur glances back curiously as they pass through.

“Just for thieves, we’re had problems in the past.” Techno explains. “They see us as an easy target because we’re rich and secluded.”

Wilbur nods. “You’ve got a really nice house by the way. Beautifully built.”

“Dad got it built. He wanted to be away from the noise of the city and have privacy from reporters. It’s kinda nice, I can see why the old man likes it.” Then, after a pause. “Don’t tell him I called him old.”

Wilbur laughs. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“I can see why Tommy likes you.”

—

When they finally reach the front steps of the residence, someone is already waiting for them there. Philza Crow if Wilbur is remembering correctly. He’s seen him before in newspapers, though not so much lately.

Nonetheless, it’s undeniable. He smiles when he sees Wilbur step out of the car and descends the steps to greet him. Wilbur holds out a hand politely but Philza takes it with both of his hands and holds it gently.

“Wilbur Soot, I presume?” He says. “Pleasure to meet you at last, I’ve heard lots about you. All good things.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” Wilbur tells him. “Philza Crow, right?”

“Please, call me Phil. If you’re going to be eating at my table then I see no reason to keep the formalities. I trust Techno guided you here safely?”

Wilbur nods. Phil releases his hand and ushers him to follow. “Then let's head for the dining table, I’m eager to talk more with you.”

Inside is just as beautiful as it is out. A crystal chandelier hangs above them, their stairs are carved out of rich mahogany, and it’s decorated with murals. One of which depicts the family with Phil in the middle and Techno and Tommy on either side of him.

“Like it?” Phil asks. Wilbur nods. “You can be honest if you find it tacky.”

“No! It’s honestly beautiful!” Wilbur grins, doing a full 360. “Your mansion is stunning!”

Phil smiles at him, something odd in his eye when he gazes at Wilbur but he can’t quite place it. “I’m glad you think so.”

Before either can say anything else, a bellowing “WILBUR” is shouted from the top of the stairs, followed by rapid footsteps descending them. Wilbur turns just in time to see Tommy racing down with a wicked grin on his face. Then, the goddamn kid decides it’s a good idea to launch himself off the stairs at Wilbur as soon as he is able.

Wilbur doesn’t finish the yelp that leaves him before he’s tackled to the ground. Fortunately there’s a thick rug beneath them but the air was still knocked out of his lungs, causing Wilbur to wheeze on the ground.

Phil scolds Tommy but there’s no real heat to it while Techno, who had just walked in, chuckles to himself and helps Wilbur off the ground.

“He does that to me too.” Techno tells him. “Neither of us have ever been injured before but it sure leaves you winded, huh?”

Wilbur nods and accepts his hand when it’s reached out to him. A grunt escapes him as he stands but other than attempting to regain having the wind knocked out of him, Wilbur is unharmed. He gives Tommy a halfhearted glare and messes up his hair, making him squawk.

“You’re way too old to be jumping at people!” Wilbur finds himself laughing. “Fucking hell, Tommy, you gave me a heart attack!”

Only a second later does Wilbur realize what he said. “Oh, sh— sorry, Mr— uh, Phil. For my language I mean.”

Phil raises an eyebrow, amused. “I don’t give a shit, mate. Swear all you want.”

Wilbur snorts in surprise, causing both Techno and Tommy to burst out laughing. Phil chuckles along, ushering the three of them to the dining table. Despite his nerves, Wilbur finds himself relaxing.

—

Tommy was not exaggerating about Phil’s cooking. Steak, mashed potatoes, and a variety of grilled vegetables are served and every bite is godly. Wilbur resists the urge to cry upon his first bite, overwhelming flavors burst in his mouth and leaving him speechless.

“Good?” Phil asks expectantly.

“Delicious.” Wilbur breathes. “How have you not opened a restaurant?”

“I have one actually. I didn’t open it myself but I hold equal shares with the owner and supply them with the best ingredients money can buy. However I prefer to cook for my family. Everything tastes better when it’s for people you care for, isn’t it?”

Phil holds his gaze on Wilbur as he speaks of family. He isn’t sure how to react but ends up smiling politely. It earns a warm look out of Phil that he takes as a win.

“So, Wilbur,” it’s Techno who speaks up this time, “Tommy won’t shut up about your music.”

“That’s because it’s fucking fantastic!”

“Case and point.” Techno’s lip curves up, amused. “I have a guitar up in my room, you wanna play for us when we’re finished eating?”

His anxiety rises but Wilbur takes a silent breath and nods. He anticipated this— it’s his whole occupation at this point. He can play a few songs. Tommy’s always liked his music— surely the rest of his family will too?

“No pressure.” Techno says, as if he can sense Wilbur’s unease. “We’re just curious.”

“No pressure,” Wilbur repeats despite himself. “Yeah, I can play a song or two if you guys are willing to hear it.”

Satisfied, the family’s attention turns back to their food and Wilbur lets out a long, quiet breath. He can do this, it’s just three people. Not a big deal, he plays for anyone who will hear him all the time. This should be easy.

Wilbur cuts his steak and takes another bite. He melts, swarmed once again by flavors that allow him to relax. He hates to eat fast and paces himself but he’s the first to clear his plate, wiping his mouth with the napkin provided.

“Are you still hungry at all?” Phil asks. “I cooked plenty, you’re more than welcome to have more if you wish.”

“I shouldn’t.” Wilbur tries, but Phil shakes his head.

“Please, be my guest. I want to treat you right.”

The flavors are still fresh in his mind and Wilbur didn’t eat a whole lot today as is. If he’s offering… Wouldn’t it be impolite to keep refusing him even when it’s untrue?

“Maybe a little more.” He relents. “Not a whole plate— I couldn’t eat that much. And uh, I hate to ask but do you have anything I can drink?”

“No trouble at all— do you drink at all?”

Wilbur shakes his head.

“Something sparkling instead.” Phil calls and in the blink of an eye, there’s a servant at his side asking what he needs. He calls for a round for all of them then sends them on their way. Not two minutes later do they return with four cups, but a signal from Phil causes them to place it by him, bow, then leave.

Phil takes up the tray and goes around the table to serve it himself. “I prefer to bring the drinks to those at my table myself,” he says, “Much more personal that way, wouldn’t you say? A reminder that you’re cared for while under my roof.”

Wilbur nods along, even if he doesn’t fully get it when Phil didn’t even get the drinks himself. Must be a rich person thing, he thinks as Phil finally makes his way over to him and places his cup next to his plate before returning to the head of the table.

Wilbur sips his drink experimentally. Sparkling cider by the taste of it, though it’s different than he’s used to. Expensive probably, judging by how everything else is around here. Not bad either, Wilbur ends up downing most of it right then and there but refrains from drinking it all at once.

He catches all of them looking at him before swiftly returning to eating. Wilbur really hopes that there isn’t some sort of table manner he just broke. Rich people are big on those and while Wilbur does know the basics, there are likely plenty of unspoken ones that he doesn’t.

“Tell us about yourself, Wilbur.” Phil speaks up. “Any family? Friends?”

“No family that I know of.” Wilbur tells him. “I was a foster kid all my life. Never adopted, I take care of myself.”

Immediately, Phil’s eyes are filled with concern and sadness. “It’s just you then?” Wilbur nods. “Oh, mate. Everyone deserves a family.”

He shrugs. “I’ve been doing well enough for myself anyways.”

Techno asks a question next. “Any plans for the future?”

“College would be ideal— I’d kill to formally study music theory— but it’s pretty expensive. I’m trying to see if I can find any alternatives.”

“I have influence in the local colleges admittance.” Phil says casually, as if he is acknowledging that fire is hot. “I can get you in.”

Wilbur’s mouth opens to protest but it’s Techno who butts in. “It’s not a hand-me-out. He’s giving you the opportunity to prove yourself, whether or not you do well is purely based on your potential.”

“You’d kick ass at it, Wilbur!” Tommy adds, grinning from ear to ear. “I know you will!”

Wilbur pauses. It sounds… Nice. A warmth in his chest forms just by thinking about it— but he refrains from an immediate answer. He wants to make it when there isn’t three people trying to sway him one way.

“I’ll think about it.” He promises. Which seems to be a good enough answer for the Crows.

—

Wilbur feels himself loosening up as the night goes on. He asks the rest of the family questions, learning about their own lives as well. Both Tommy and Techno are adopted, a fact that he doesn’t think he knew. Phil wanted a legacy, he says, and he knew those two were something special.

His eyes are locked onto Wilbur when he says that. Once again, Wilbur just smiles and nods because he has no idea how to respond.

He quickly learns that although they’re not related by blood, they’re all similar nonetheless, sharing whole body laughs and a warmth to their smiles unlike anything Wilbur has ever known. And the way they look at him and really see him as a person— the way they give him attention as if he’s someone who deserves it— it makes Wilbur feel alive.

Wilbur is bantering with the family by the end of the night, earning laughs out of all of them. He ends up playing more songs that he intended, with all three of them listening intently with smiles on their faces and glints in their eyes. The latter is something he isn’t sure about and if it’s good or bad. He pushes the thought away.

The night gets dark and cold. Wilbur is full of delicious food and plenty of sparkling cider. Exhaustion eats at him, causing him to sway on his feet. When did he get so tired?

“I should get going.” Wilbur says, though his words slur out a little. “I need to sleep…”

“Aw, Wilburrrr!” Tommy whines, catching and clinging to his arm before he can open the door. “Do you have to leave?”

He stifles a laugh, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “Do— do you realize how late it is? Of course I have to go.”

“No you don’t!” Tommy protests. “We have extra rooms! You could sleep here for the night!”

“Tommy,” Wilbur begins. Someone else beats him to it though.

“He’s right, Wilbur.” He looks up to see Techno approaching. There’s something in his eyes that can almost be called guarded. Careful for sure. “You could stay. We sure won’t mind, you won’t be bothering us.”

“See?” Tommy smiles triumphantly. “Besides, aren’t you tired? Surely you don’t wanna walk all the way back when it’s this late— it’s fucking cold out! Cold as balls!”

Wilbur trails off. Phil joins the group, but doesn’t say anything. He merely watches curiously as Wilbur makes his choice. The glint in his eyes is back though— in all of them. Wilbur still doesn't know what it means.

But his head is fuzzy and he doesn’t exactly have a flashlight on him. With a sigh, Wilbur lets go of the door knob, looking down at Tommy’s bright eyes that are so hard to say no to.

“Fine.” He says in the end. “I can stay one night.”

Tommy cheers, wasting no time dragging him upstairs before he has time to think better of it. Techno and Phil stay behind, wishing Wilbur a goodnight but never looking away from him until he's out of sight, an odd sort of smile on their faces. Wilbur waves back before he’s brought into the labyrinth that is the Crow’s Mansion.

He doesn’t process how they get there. There’s so many twists and turns that his foggy head just can’t keep up. However, eventually Tommy opens the door into a guest bedroom with the comfiest looking bed Wilbur has ever laid eyes on.

“Here you go!” Tommy tells him cheerfully. “I’ll leave you to sleep— you look like you could use it. My dad makes some killer chocolate chip pancakes so you have to stay for breakfast, yeah?”

Wilbur nods absentmindedly, rubbing his eyes. Tommy bids him goodnight before shutting the door behind him with a soft click. Wilbur doesn’t think twice before shutting off the lights and climbing underneath the covers. He lets out a content noise when he does. Its warm and soft. He could get used to this...

Wilbur drifts off faster than he’s ever done before.

Chapter Text

Wilbur wakes up hazily, sleep still trying to cling to him despite the sun shining in his eyes from the window.

Wilbur groans, twisting in the sheets to face away from the light. The thick blankets alone make him want to sleep for hours, which doesn’t even account for the pillows that feel like clouds. How did he even get his hands on these pillows? They’re way too comfy to be his…

Wilbur cracks his eyes open, squinting once the realization hits him that this definitely isn’t his tent. Sunlight illuminates the room, revealing baby blue walls and a plush carpet on top of a hardwood floor. There’s a bookshelf in the corner, a wide window with a ledge to sit by it, a guitar on a stand in the corner, and a closed closet.

It’s not just a small room either, it’s spacious. It sure doesn’t look like a guest room.

That’s right— he stayed because he was… Exhausted. It’s hard to keep his head on straight but the Crow family was just so insistent that he accepted. Figured it was easier for both of them and that one night couldn’t hurt.

Well… One night and breakfast if his memory is serving correctly. Then he’ll be out the gates in no time.

Wilbur can’t help but feel small in this house. Not just because it’s big but because it’s fancy as hell. Everything is high end— they have servants for fuck’s sake. Wilbur can barely get a job that’ll hire him. They’ve been kind to him but Wilbur knows how this story goes. They have their fun and then they leave him behind. This will be no different in the end. Tommy will stick around until his father decides Wilbur isn’t a good influence and then he’ll be back where he was before.

Just him against the world. As it has always been and always will be.

There’s a knock at the door before there’s a click and it swings open. It’s Phil who pokes his head in, studying Wilbur for a moment before a warm smile crosses his face. “Hey, hope I didn’t wake you?”

Wilbur shakes his head. “Been up for a little bit now. Good morning. Don’t worry, I won’t overstay my welcome. I’ll be out before you know it.”

There’s a brief flash in Phil’s eyes. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you like! I just came to tell you that breakfast is ready. Tommy mentioned you joining us?”

Ah, it’ll definitely be rude to try and skip out on it. Oh well, there are worse obligations to have. Phil is a godly cook. Wilbur nods, earning a pleased look from him.

“I’ll set a plate then. Come down whenever you’re ready. Just keep following the hall, it’s not terribly difficult to find the stairs.”

With that, Phil slips out silently, footsteps retreating down the hall. Wilbur waits until he can’t hear it anymore to let out a long sigh, grimacing that he’s still wearing exactly what he was last night. He must’ve been really tired if he slept in his sweater vest— no doubt his shirt underneath is all wrinkled but whatever. It’s just breakfast— he’ll make polite conversation while he eats then head out. His appearance doesn’t matter that much.

He does pat down his hair so it isn’t obvious that he’s got bed-head but convinces himself that’s enough.

Slowly, Wilbur slips out of the bed but nearly falls when an unexpected dizzy spell hits him. His knees buckle but he catches himself on the bed frame just in time. It takes longer than usual to wear off and he still feels foggy afterwards but he pushes through it. Once he’s out the door, it’s easier to make his way through the house, blinking away any spots from his eyes.

As per Phil’s instruction, Wilbur follows the winding hall and eventually finds the stairs. From there, between what he remembers from last night and hearing light chatter, it’s easy enough to find the dining room.

Phil, Techno, and Tommy are all there waiting for him when he arrives. Phil and Techno quiet down once they see Wilbur, each sending a smile his way. Tommy, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to fall back asleep until he spots Wilbur. Then he shakes himself, more awake than ever, and sports an excited spark in his eyes.

“Wilbur! Sit by me!” Tommy aggressively pats the chair next to him, leaving little room for an argument. Wilbur still rolls his eyes good naturedly before going along with it.

“What’s gotten into you today? You’re acting like we didn’t just eat yesterday.” He jokes.

“I’ve never had family breakfast with you before! This is groundbreaking stuff, Wil!” Tommy insists, blatantly ignoring his jabs. “Never been seen before! Never been heard of before!”

“I get the picture.” Wilbur cuts him off with a snort. “Nice to be eating breakfast with you too.”

It is nice, even if it’s obvious that Wilbur sticks out like a sore thumb. They’re a family after all and Wilbur isn’t a part of that. This is a family meal— the type he’s only seen on TV. The ones where you sit around a table, asking about each other’s days, sharing lighthearted banter, and maybe even advice.

Wilbur couldn’t say he was ever a part of that. He missed out— mostly ate meals in his room or maybe on the couch if his guardians were lenient enough to allow it. That whole white picket fence family thing was never his to have. He missed out, no getting that back. It was obvious enough that Tommy had that and while some part of him envied that, he was okay. He made peace with the fact that it wasn’t for him. Hell, he was happy for him. Tommy deserved good things.

Wilbur was only a guest here. For one day and one day only, he could pretend like this was his family. That he hadn’t practically raised himself and had to do everything he could just to scrape by and survive these days. For one meal, he didn’t have to worry.

Or, well. The thought was nice enough but how temporary it was didn’t quite make it easy to enjoy. Wilbur watched his food slowly disappear from his plate, hyper aware that once it was all gone, that was it. No godly food, no temporary family, no warm house. Just him and only him, as it always had been and always will be, doing what he can to prove he deserves to exist.

“Wil? Wilbur!” Phil’s voice startles him out of his own head. All eyes are on him and Wilbur swallows silently before attempting his best, sheepish smile. “You spaced out there, you okay?”

“Yeah— peachy.” A nervous laugh escapes him. He swiftly clears his throat to cover it up. “Just not looking forward to the journey home. Looked kinda chilly out earlier.”

For a split second, Wilbur swears he sees something in Phil’s eyes. It’s gone so quickly that he wonders if he imagined it or not, replaced with a warm, sympathetic look. “Our lawn was frosty this morning. It might be sunny but it’s hardly gotten warmer and according to the weather report, it’s only gonna get worse. There’s talk of it even snowing in the next few days.”

Damn, Wilbur really wasn’t looking forward to that. He might have to find somewhere inside to stay if that’s the case. Last thing he wanted was to freeze— that would be a hell of a way to go after everything he’s done to stay alive at this point.

At his silence, Phil continues, “You know, we have plenty of empty rooms. The one you stayed in hardly gets used at all.”

Wilbur catches on to the suggestion immediately, eyes widening. “Oh shit— I couldn’t. Really, it’s appreciated but— I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding at all.” Phil insists. “You’re practically family! And like I said, this house is more than big enough for one more. I’d hate to send you into the cold knowing you could’ve been safe and warm here.”

“But— I don’t know how I would repay you and the last thing I would want to do is take advantage of your kindness.”

“You aren’t.” Phil smiles. “I’m giving it to you freely. It’s only going to get colder and I’d much rather you stay here than brave it out there. But if it makes you feel better, you could help around the house. Tommy’s been wanting to learn how to play an instrument for a while— you could tutor him in return?”

At the mention of it, Tommy perks and begins tugging on Wilbur’s sleeve. “Pleaseeee? I want someone new to play video games with. Techno always cheats.”

“I don’t cheat, you’re just mad that I always win.” Techno snorts.

Tommy grumbles something under his breath, then turns back to Wilbur and pulls puppy eyes. “Wouldn’t it be so cool to live together? Just for a little while? We would be like actual brothers!”

All eyes are on him again, a collective breath seeming being held. Wilbur glances around, feeling the pressure of their gazes. It doesn’t help that the offer doesn’t sound half bad— he’s struggling to think of reasons to refuse. He hates the idea of something just being handed to him but it looks like they actually want him around. Wilbur doubts it’ll last forever but if he’s actually wanted, no matter how fleeting…

It makes it really hard to say no.

“Well…” Wilbur lets out a breath, meeting Phil’s gaze. “Maybe just for a little while. A week. I’ll do what I can to pull my weight.”

Phil leans back, clearly satisfied with his answer. “Of course.” He agrees easily. “A week. But if you wanted to stay longer—”

“A week is all I’ll need.” Wilbur presses. Phil merely shrugs, a look in his eyes that says he doubts that, like he expects Wilbur will be staying longer. He can think what he wants but Wilbur is firm on this fact— only a week. Never stay for long, it only hurts more when they get sick of you.

“If you’re gonna be staying,” Tommy leans over and bumps his shoulder with an ecstatic look in his eyes. “You’ll need a tour! And I’m the best tour guide there is!”

“Tommy, you literally forgot we had a greenhouse last week.” Techno deadpans, though there’s a smirk that forms on his lips. “He’s better off with me.”

“I remember the important things! The greenhouse is boring— nothing’s even sprouted yet! It’s just a bunch of dirt and shit!”

Techno rolls his eyes but doesn’t press. He just gives Wilbur a ‘You hearing this?’ look. Something so casual, like he’s had that look with Wilbur dozens of times rather than this being the first. And Wilbur can’t decide how to feel about that.

Wilbur clears his throat awkwardly. “So if I’m staying, I’ll have to go pick up my stuff. Can I get a ride or—”

Phil waves him off nonchalantly. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve already taken care of it, it’s on the way.”

Wilbur blinks. “Already?”

“I work fast.” Phil grins sharply. “Always two steps ahead— that’s the motto of the Crows.”

Wilbur didn’t even see him talk to any of his servants or shoot a text. Did he plan that ahead of time? Anticipate that Wilbur would be staying longer before he even agreed? He supposes that Phil is used to getting what he wants but… Why the hell does he seem to want Wilbur? Is there something he’s not getting? Or is it because he’s on good terms with Tommy?

“I’ll only be staying a week.” Wilbur reminds him. Phil only hums and Wilbur can’t tell if that’s an agreement or not from the tone. He can’t prove that Phil doesn’t believe him because he’s dodging it but that’s fine. When the week is up, he’ll know Wilbur meant exactly what he said.

Though, he can’t deny that breakfast is just as delicious as dinner and his mouth still waters from the scent alone. He gets seconds, scarfing down as much as he can stomach and relishes in the feeling of a full stomach.

—

Both Tommy and Techno end up giving the tour in the end. Their conflicting commentary is a treat of its own.

“This house has been around for centuries!”

“Barely a decade.”

“Built because of me— it was a little after Phil adopted me you know!”

“The last part is true but Phil built it to get away from the city and get some peace and quiet. Which obviously didn’t work because Tommy is here.”

“Fuck you, I make this house fun!”

“I think the servants cleaning up your messes would beg to differ.”

“They love me.”

“Debatable.”

Wilbur finds it hard not to laugh and after Techno recounts a story of Tommy’s secret bug sanctuary over the sound of Tommy’s loud protests and attempts to wrestle him to the ground, Wilbur nearly falls over from how hard he’s wheezing. Which apparently makes him an easy target because Tommy promptly finishes the job and when Techno scolds him, takes him down too, leaving all three of them on the floor.

The size of the mansion never gets less intimidating but Wilbur takes it all in stride as best as he can. There’s lots of rooms to take into account but the ones that he takes note of are the library, the music room, the living room, and everyone’s bedrooms.

Tommy ends up dragging him into his mid-tour and insists on showing off all the trophies he’s ever won. A couple for various sports, one or two for the science fair (though Tommy admits that it was mostly because he was teamed up with his friend Tubbo), and one for the spelling bee. Most of them are from when he was in elementary school but he stands proudly for them so Wilbur praises him nonetheless.

Techno opens his door for all of ten seconds before closing it when showing off his room. Wilbur gets a brief look at it— lots of books, a fencing sword on a stand, and catches sight of a vase that looks like it belongs in a museum. Tommy attempts to barrel his way through Techno in order for Wilbur to get a proper look but Techno holds him off despite his best efforts and eventually Wilbur convinces him to move on after asking about what kind of video games he has. Which leads Tommy to drag him to the living room in order to show off his collection.

By the end of the tour, Wilbur’s head is spinning with everything they showed him and just wants to lay down. He ends up sprawling on the couch and not long after, Tommy ambushes and dog piles him, which doesn’t work very well considering it’s only him as Techno politely declines in favor of sitting nearby.

There’s no getting Tommy off of him once he’s clings on so Wilbur gives up and runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Tommy mumbles, pressing his cheek to Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur hums in agreement. “You should stay.”

“I am. A week, remember?”

“No— I mean longer.” Tommy clings a little tighter. “We could treat you right here. The people out there don’t even make eye contact with you sometimes— s’not right. They don’t deserve you.”

Wilbur lets out a small breath. “Tommy… It’s just the way things are, it’s fine. I deal with it, it’s not a big deal.”

“But it is a big deal— and it’s not fucking fine.” Wilbur catches a flash of anger in Tommy’s eyes— he looks pissed. “They don’t understand how precious you are— they don’t get that you’re talented and funny and kind and— and they treat you like shit! Like you don’t matter! So honestly, I don’t think they deserve you! I deserve you— or even if I don’t, I’ll do everything I can until I deserve you and then—”

“Tommy.” Techno’s tone is sharp and Tommy clenches his teeth. He doesn’t continue, allowing Techno to take over. “Sorry. He gets passionate. What he means is that you’re important to us. More than you know. And we’d like you to stick around for as long as we can have you.”

Wilbur fumbles for an answer. Tommy’s outburst shocked him to his core— it almost felt… Animalistic? Like he already decided Wilbur was his and there wasn’t anything more to say on the matter. Like not even Wilbur had a choice.

He shakes himself from the haze. “I… Appreciate it.” Wilbur says, and Tommy’s gaze snaps up, bright and drinking in every word. “I get what you’re trying to say. But you don’t have to get angry on my behalf.”

“But you won’t.” Tommy says. “Someone has to.”

“I can take care of myself. I’m twenty, remember?” Wilbur sends a reassuring smile back. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

Techno huffs a laugh. “You’re a bit late on that. We’re family now, we’re gonna worry.”

Family. The word makes his heart swell. Wilbur doesn’t think he can agree with the sentiment but it’s still a good feeling. One he’s reluctant to give up.

Maybe he can have it, just for the week. It won’t last— family has never lasted for Wilbur— but the week can satisfy him. It’s all he needs.

Just one week and then he’ll leave. Just one week to have the kind of life he always wanted growing up.