Work Text:
“Wilby?”
Wilbur raised his head from his notebook and dropped his pen when he saw his little brother standing at his door. Ever since a social worker had dropped Tommy at their home, six years ago, Wilbur had done his best to be a good big brother. Tommy was three when they first got him; his parents had died in a car crash and he had already been bouncing back from two foster families. When he got there though, he had fit in quite well. Even Techno, who always complained about the neighbours' kids, did not take long to get completely wrapped around Tommy's pinky. Sure, he was loud and energetic but he was such a good kid.
“Hey, Toms. Trouble sleeping?”
The boy nodded and Wilbur sighed softly, patting empty space beside him. His baby brother didn't waste time and skipped to him, climbing onto the bed before settling against his side.
“Nightmares again?”
Tommy nodded. Wilbur put his notebook on the nightstand and rolled on his back to lie on the covers of his bed. The younger boy took that as the invitation it was and laid down half on the bed, half on top of Wilbur.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really. It was scary.”
There were times like those – especially in the evening after spending an entire day running around and causing havoc- when Tommy was quiet. Wilbur especially loved those moments because he didn't have to share his baby brother with anyone, not even his twin.
His brother's soft voice drew him from his thoughts:
“Can I sleep here tonight?”
Wilbur glanced down at Tommy and nodded softly, carding his fingers through the blond's wild curls.
It was so soft!
“Sure but don't take all the space.”
It's not like he could anyway; Tommy was tiny. But it was a sure way to make him react. Sure enough, the boy let out an indignant squeak and he poked Wilbur in the ribs in retaliation. The fight that followed had all the pillows flying to the ground with the covers lying halfway on the floor.
“You're so sweet!” Wilbur told his baby brother when he finally let the boy beat him with the last cushion still in reach.
“Am not!”
“Are too.”
But it seems that even words were too much for Tommy; the boy looked ready to drop, which he did when he curled up against his older brother.
“I'm tired, Wilby.”
“Then sleep, Toms. I'll be there when you wake up.”
And he was.