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“What’s it like to fly, Dad?” Four-year-old Wilbur asks from where he sits beside Phil on their beige couch, his pudgy little fingers gently tracing through his dad’s massive wings as he stares at the feathers with wonder in his eyes.
As a happy twinkle enters his own eyes, Phil spreads his jet-black wings out a little wider, as if he’s trying to catch a breeze and take flight despite being inside their cabin.
While smiling widely, Phil begins in a lively tone, “Flying is like freedom. It’s looking down at the world so far below, nothing but the breeze and the clouds able to touch you when you’re up so high.”
“It’s like being totally in control of everything. You get to choose how high or low you fly, where to go, how long you stay there. You can be out flying until the sun sets and the moon and stars come out. You can watch the sky go all different colors as the sun rises. It feels like you can do anything when you’re up there.”
“Wow,” Wilbur murmurs in an absolutely awestruck tone, his wide brown eyes shining with uncontainable excitement.
Then, while releasing his dad’s wings to jump off the couch, Wilbur puffs out his little chest and firmly says, “One day I’ll fly too, and I’ll be the best flier ever. I’ll be so good at flying even you won’t be able to keep up with me.”
“I’m sure you will, Mate,” Phil says with a smile as he rolls his eyes fondly, already thinking of how much of a menace his son will be once he gets his own set of wings.
Phil has no doubt that, the second Wil is able to fly, he’ll be chasing his son all over the server, certain that he’ll have to forcibly fly the boy back home so he doesn’t spend all night up in the clouds and never get any sleep.
“I will!” Wilbur adamantly says, as if Phil tried to disagree with the kid about his future flying capabilities.
Then, while sprinting toward the front door of the cabin, Wilbur screams, “Just watch me fly, I’ll fly so good!”
With an exasperated sigh that doesn’t match the grin on his face, Phil slowly follows Wilbur outside.
When he steps out the door and sees Wilbur on the front lawn, he can’t help but snicker.
The little boy is jumping repeatedly up into the air, his hands raised above him as if that’ll make him go higher, a frown of concentration on his face that makes his nose scrunch up and his eyebrows draw together.
“Daaaad, my wings aren’t working!” Wilbur whines petulantly as he stops his attempts at flying, his arms crossing over his chest and his bottom lip beginning to wobble as he fights the urge to cry over his stupid wings that don’t even work.
“Mate, you don’t have any wings yet,” Phil gently explains as he approaches the boy, putting a kind hand on his son’s back and beginning to rub soothing circles, both as a way of comforting his son and reminding him that his wings haven’t grown yet.
“But I wanna fly now!” Wilbur shouts in that same whiny tone, his eyes beginning to become glossy, the young boy moments away from tears now.
Before Wilbur can grow even more upset, Phil carefully scoops the boy into his arms, then takes to the sky, smiling widely as Wilbur squeals in absolute delight.
“Higher! Higher!” Wilbur exclaims as he pounds his little hand against Phil’s shoulder, as if his tiny fist will urge his dad to do his bidding. “Go higher!”
“Alright, alright,” Phil acquiesces with a scoff, flying higher as he teasingly says, “Someone’s a bossy little man today.”
“I am not!” Wilbur denies without a moment of hesitation, angrily jabbing a little finger against his dad’s chest as he continues, “You’re just being mean! You’re such a meanie! And you’re old!”
Phil can’t help but sputter at that, trying his best to choke back laughter as he asks incredulously, “Did you just call me old?”
“Yes.”
“Mate, I’m not even that ol-” Phil tries to explain, but he doesn’t get the chance to before he’s interrupted.
“You’re like the oldest person ever,” Wilbur confidently says as he nods his head, knowing that he’s right and dad is wrong, like usual. “I didn’t even think people could be as old as you.”
“Oh that’s it,” Phil grumbles good-naturedly, using one hand to still firmly grip his son while they’re up in the sky, his other hand going to tickle the boy’s stomach.
“Stoooop, stop itttt!” Wilbur shrieks as he tries to squirm away from the evil tickling hand, but his dad is holding onto him too tightly for him to get away, forcing him to endure the terrible onslaught. “Daaaad, stop!”
“Take it back!” Phil demands in a joking tone loud enough to be heard over Wilbur’s loud laughter as he continues being tickled.
“Fine, fine, you aren’t old!” Wilbur shouts in between bouts of laughter, his stomach starting to hurt from laughing this hard, yet the evil hand still continues to tickle him without relent. “I didn’t mean it, Philza Minecraft is the youngest man ever!”
“Good,” Phil says with a massive smile as he finally stops tickling Wilbur, chuckling when the young boy groans dramatically through the last of his giggles.
“I hate being tickled,” Wilbur pouts as he buries his head against Phil’s chest, his eyes slipping shut against his will as his body grows tired from all the tickling he was subjected to.
“I know you do,” Phil replies, a cheeky grin on his face as he slowly starts flying them back to the ground.
“See, you’re a meanie,” Wilbur mumbles with a wide yawn, his words hardly understandable as they're all jumbled together from him trying his best to fight sleep.
“Sure am,” Phil agrees without a moment of hesitation, smiling even wider at the huff of laughter he hears from his son.
Then, with a fond smile, Phil sincerely whispers, “Love you, Wil.”
Wilbur doesn’t respond, already fast asleep in Phil’s arms, but he doesn’t need to hear those words to know how much his dad cares about him, knowing deep down that Philza Minecraft is the best dad ever, even if he is old.
Carefully, Phil touches down on the grass and enters their cabin, walking into the bedroom and carefully depositing Wilbur into bed.
“Sleep well, Mate,” Phil whispers with a fond smile as he tenderly tucks Wil underneath the blankets, pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead before turning out the light.
While still smiling, Phil returns to the living room, tucking his wings around himself like his own personal blanket as he sits down on the couch, sipping a cup of tea and reading his favorite book as his wonderful son sleeps safely and soundly.
And when Phil too goes to bed sometime later, he drifts off to sleep with Wilbur held snugly in his arms, his wings draped over them both as they rest.