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Tommy is fucking exhausted. He hasn’t had a decent nights rest for a week since he and Wilbur had been brought to this dumb foster house. It’s been a week since he and his brother started sleeping in separate rooms and Tommy is too scared of not knowing all the creaky floorboards yet to sneak over to Wilbur’s room.
A week and Tommy is getting fucking sick of this. It is butt fuck oh clock in the morning and he can’t sleep because Wilbur doesn’t have his arms around him. Tommy isn’t a baby but he’s grown used to the comforting weight. Sleeping felt basically impossible without it.
He glowers at the ceiling, then lets out a groan that fills the nighttime silence and rings in his ears. Yeah, he is done with this bullshit, he doesn’t care if sleeping in Wilbur’s bed isn’t allowed. If Phil has a problem with it, he can kiss Tommy’s ass. Tommy has absolutely no issue with showing Phil why he’s deemed a problem child in the system if he tries lecturing Tommy about it.
That is assuming he found out, but Tommy is pretty sure he will. He isn’t made for being sneaky and someone always finds him out when he doesn’t want them to.
Wilbur’s door squeaks when he opens it, and Tommy winces because the room beyond is dark and that means Wilbur had actually been trying to sleep.
“Toms?” Wilbur calls, making Tommy frown when he notices the total lack of drowsiness in his brother’s voice. Trying to, but not really succeeding then.
“Yeah,” he whispers, squeezing himself through the door and clicking it shut before going to climb into his brother’s bed. Wilbur doesn’t protest, just waits patiently until Tommy curls himself against his chest. His arm settles over him, thumb gently stroking circles into his back.
The fog of sleep immediately sets itself comfortably in Tommy’s mind, making his eyes droop and his body relax heavily into Wilbur.
“Night, Tommy.”
Tommy only has the mind to hum in response before he’s out.
Light breaking through Wilbur’s curtains wakes Tommy up, making him grumble and bury his face into the pillow beneath his head. He can hear Wilbur snicker next to him, and Tommy’s immediate and absolutely reasonable response is to kick his foot out until it connects with Wilbur’s shin.
“Hey—!” Wilbur yelps, wiggling away from Tommy. Which, no that also isn’t allowed.
Tommy scowls, lifting his head to glare at Wilbur’s stupid face. Wilbur just smirks back, eyebrow raised.
“Fuck you,” Tommy says, then drops his head back to the pillow.
Wilbur laughs, then rolls off the bed and Tommy does not whine at the loss. He does, however, tilt his head to the side to peek at what his brother is doing.
He’s digging through his bag, pulling out clean clothes to get ready for the day.
“You should head back to your room to get dressed, Phil came in earlier to tell us breakfast is ready.”
Tommy tenses, not saying anything as he watches Wilbur move around his room. At his silence, Wilbur looks over at him. Their eyes meet, and Wilbur understands immediately what it is that’s got Tommy on edge.
“He’s not mad about you sleeping in here. Didn’t make any bad faces and I—” Wilbur cuts himself off. He stares at Tommy for a moment, face flushing red and spiking Tommy’s desire to cuss Phil out exponentially.
“You?” Tommy prompts, pushing himself up from the mattress and sitting on his legs as he watches his brother. Wilbur looks away from him, and Tommy narrows his eyes.
“It’s uh. It’s nothing, Phil’s probably not mad and if he is, he’s really good at hiding it.”
Tommy purses his lips, but relents. He’s not sure what has Wilbur all flustered, and he’s definitely not letting it go, but Tommy knows not to cross any lines this early in a foster placement. Especially when the placement accepted both him and Wilbur.
He’s not getting dressed though, fuck that. Tommy’s going to eat breakfast in his pajamas the way it should be done. His decision means Wilbur rolls his eyes at him, but Tommy retaliates by sticking his tongue out at him and rushing down the stairs before Wilbur can try to convince him to wear something he’s “meant to be seen in” whatever the fuck that means.
Pajamas fucking rock, Tommy would wear them everywhere if he could. Top tier comfort and they were decorated in little cows. Why wouldn’t Tommy want to wear little cows all day, every day?
“Morning!” Kristin calls from the couch, her head twisting to look at Tommy with a bright grin. He squints at her for a moment, then gives a wave without saying anything in response. Tommy’s not sure how to feel about her yet.
Movement catches Tommy’s eye, and he looks towards Techno who has exited the kitchen right at that moment. They stare at each other for a moment, and Tommy makes a decision to be a problem right as Wilbur comes to a stop behind him and Phil pokes his head out of the kitchen with a curious look.
“You’re a bitch,” he declares, Wilbur choking on air behind him and Phil’s face twisting into hidden laughter as Techno heaves a sigh.
“Morning,” Techno says, not bothering to rise to Tommy’s bait as he continues his original path of sitting next to his mother.
“You sleep well?” Phil asks when Techno’s made himself comfortable, bringing Tommy’s attention to him. Tommy glares at him, opening his mouth with an insult on his tongue.
“Yep! Yeah, definitely slept fine,” Wilbur interrupts. Tommy looks at him with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Great! I’m almost done in here, and you can grab your servings whenever you’re ready.”
“I thought you said breakfast was already ready,” Tommy mumbles to Wilbur, who shrugs helplessly next to him.
“I repeated what Phil told me, I’m not omnipresent,” is his brother’s answer, and Tommy huffs with irritation. He wants to eat now.
“Omnipotent is the word you wanted there,” Techno speaks up, making Tommy jump because he hadn’t realized how close to them he’d been.
“Oh, what’d I say?” Wilbur asks, clamping a hand over Tommy’s mouth when he opens it to call Techno a bitch again.
“Omnipresent, means you’re everywhere or commonly encountered by a majority of the population,” Techno explains, entirely unaffected by Wilbur yanking his hand from Tommy’s mouth and wiping it along his jeans.
“Stop licking me,” Wilbur hisses, glaring at Tommy.
“Stop covering my mouth with your hand then,” Tommy snaps back, taking a step away from Wilbur and crossing his arms. He continues to glare at Wilbur until Phil steps in with grin, a big plate of pancakes in his hands.
“Do you boys wanna keep fighting or are you ready to come eat?” he asks, probably clocking onto the way Tommy wants those pancakes but being nice enough not to point it out.
“Dibs!” Tommy shouts, reaching forward in a rush to grab at least one pancake. Only to be fucking thwarted by Techno taking the plate from Phil and lifting it above Tommy’s head.
“Bitch!” he swears, reaching high, getting on his tip-toes, and then fucking jumping to try and get to his prize, “fucker, pussy, cunt, wankstain, tory sunuvafuck!”
Techno blinks at him, then looks to Phil.
“He’s worse than you.”
The comment is met with a snort from Phil, but Tommy pays no mind to the conversation because the next thing he knows Kristin has the plate of pancakes and she’s taking it into the kitchen. Tommy follows stubbornly, eyes locked on the plate. Kristin speaks up when Tommy tenses to pounce on the plate the second she sets it on the dining table.
“If you leave that plate right there, I’ll make sure you get more than Wilbur and Techno,” she whispers, her grin curling in mischief and delight when Tommy’s eyes snap to hers.
“Deal,” he says immediately, deciding right there that Kristin probably isn’t all bad. In fact, he’s gonna sit next to her instead of Wilbur since the fucker had the audacity to put his grubby mitts on Tommy’s face. Take that, fucker.
Kristin giggles at his abrupt decision, plating everyone with pancakes and giving Tommy two more pancakes, one taken from each of Wilbur’s and Techno’s plates. He beams, feeling excitement vibrate under his skin as the rest of them finally trail into the kitchen.
“I have decided,” Tommy starts talking, ignoring the way Phil blinks at his seating choice, “that Kristin is a bigger man than any of you. I’m still the biggest though.”
Kristin’s beaming grin and Wilbur’s tired (affectionate) sigh, just spur him on.
“Can you make declarations after we eat,” Techno says, interrupting Tommy before he can rant about how he and Kristin are actually the only people ever.
And well… Tommy is pretty hungry, he’ll relent to that one.
While they eat, Tommy shoots Wilbur a look. Wilbur meets his eyes, and his eyebrows scrunch together in confusion before smoothing out when Tommy glances at the others sitting with them. He’s given a small, barely there nod, and Tommy finds it a lot easier to swallow down his pancakes after that.
They’ll be fine with the Watsons.