Work Text:
The night was stormy. Tommy was fast asleep in his little homemade bed, built by Wilbur's own two hands and a lot of struggle. In his hands, were two stuffed animals. A small ragged cow and a dyed blue sheep, both held tightly and close to Tommy.
But of course, that quickly came to an end when Tommy awoke in tears from a particularly bad nightmare that his small toddler brain didn't quite know how to process yet.
He wanted to be held. He wanted comfort. He wanted to hear Wilbur sing one of his songs to him. He wanted to be protected and cradled. He wanted... No, he didn't want. He didn't want anything, that wasn't really true but it was beyond the point.
He needed Wilbur. He needed his dad.
So, he grabbed his beloved stuffed animals, Henry and Friend, and made his way out of his room cautiously.
The short journey felt like ages to Tommy. It was terrifying, the sound of rain and thunder pelting against the walls and windows didn't help with his fear either but he pushed through. He needed to make it to his dad, Wilbur could help him. Wilbur was nice.
At a particularly bad clap of thunder, Tommy dropped his stuffed toys and bolted, heading straight to Wilbur's room and pushing the door open as quickly as he could, tears flowing rapidly down his face.
"Dada," he cried out, his voice impossibly quiet.
—
Wilbur had some time to relax by himself, which he choose to spend, sitting in bed and writing song lyrics. Tommy had liked his songs a lot, but was starting to grow bored of them since there was no new ones. So he decided to write new ones, all of which, Tommy seemed to adore, which Wilbur was quite grateful for.
Wilbur felt his eyelids grow heavy. He set the notebook and pen down on the bedside table and moved to lay under the covers of his bed, figuring he should get to sleep so he would have the energy to deal with his little hyper zombie toddler.
He shut his eyes, letting himself start to drift off into a mostly dreamless sleep.
He didn't know how long it had been before he was almost woken up by his bedroom door creaking open and little footsteps making their way inside. He didn't stir much, only groaned quietly — trying to get back to the sleep that welcomed him. He figured this was part of some dream.
He was wrong.
"Dada?" A little voice called out, sounding shaky and terrified. Wilbur was almost instantly awake and up when he heard Tommy. The toddler had started calling him Dada recently, it was adorable. The odd Dada thrown in with his usual mix of 'Wilba's. The toddler really had him wrapped around his finger but that wasn't the point.
He sat up properly, moving to lean over the side of his bed and pick up Tommy, carefully. "What's wrong, sunrise? Why are you awake?" He asked, cradling him in his arms as though he was some precious treasure.
He shifted Tommy in his arms so he was held more securely before he reached over to flick on his lamp. Now, in this lighting, he could see the tears that flooded down Tommy's small face.
"Bad dream, Wilba," he mumbled, moving to bury his face in the crook of Wilbur's neck, soft cries and more tears escaping him. "Scary," he added on after a second of silence and uncertainty on his end.
Wilbur was silent for another minute, unsure if Tommy wanted to add more onto his previous statement or if he'd just leave it at that. He pulled him close, holding him protectively. "Well, no bad dream is going to hurt you here, sunrise, I have you now," he promised, meaning his words.
Nothing would ever hurt his precious sunshine — nothing. He wouldn't let it happen. He'd protect Tommy with his whole life. He'd only had him for maybe a few months but Tommy was his son and he was Tommy's father. He would look after him.
Tommy sniffled quietly, nuzzling Wilbur almost. "Pwomise?" He mumbled, risking moving his head from where he rested it in the crook of Wilbur's neck. Wilbur cooed quietly at just how adorable he was but nodded.
"I promise, sunshine — I have you, you're safe with me," he repeated his point over again, meaning each words thoroughly. "I love you so much, you know that? Nothing will ever hurt you — not if I have anything to say about it, Toms."
Tommy slowly nodded, taking in and processing his words. "Love you too, Dada," he mumbled, moving his head back to where it rested — not so much hiding it now, just resting it. His fists grabbed little fistfuls of the soft fabric of Wilbur's dull yellow sweater.
Wilbur shifted back a bit so he laid up against his pillows, cradling Tommy to his chest, holding him gently yet close and protectively. He felt Tommy relax against him and snuggle more into his sweater.
Wilbur was filled with an odd type of warmth, one he'd only ever experienced with the other members of his family. He guessed this was how his father must've felt a lot of the time. It made all the hard parts truly worth it.
He moved a hand up to Tommy's head, combing his fingers through his blonde curls gently, careful of any possible knots that may have formed. Tommy leant into the touch, sighing with content — making Wilbur coo.
He began to hum one of his own songs quietly and soon enough, Tommy had already started to drift off into a quiet and peaceful slumber, safe and protected in his father's hold.