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It had been a long, exhausting day. The whole group had been tossed around the Total Wipe Out course perhaps one or two times too many, but the fun of it all and the fantastic shots had made the bruises and sunburn more than worth it. Meeting up with all of the fans outside of the place had been beyond incredible, the ability to put faces to their fanbase a whole-heartedly rewarding experience that the five boys could never see themselves growing tired of.
Now, packed into a minivan on the way back to their hotel, the boys were slowly losing the little energy they still had, wasting it away on casual talk and fresh reminiscence about the best parts of their day, the cold feel of old pond water still stuck in their hair and to their skin not nearly enough to dampen their spirits. Tubbo riding shotgun, Charlie and Wilbur in the middle row, and Phil and Tommy in the back seats, the conversation fizzled out after the first ten minutes of the ride, most of the friends choosing to listen to their own music, Airpods in, as the shiny rays of the late afternoon sun began to turn the sky a gorgeous golden hue in the distance. The occasional tick tick ticking of the indicator dictated their route as the rumble of the engine slowly lulled Tommy to sleep, his head drooping to rest momentarily on Phil's shoulder before he realized his actions and sluggishly shook himself awake again, a mumbled apology failing to leave his lips before Phil could assure him that it was fine.
Tommy was so tired, and what could he say, he needed his beauty sleep. The fog of little space that pulled at his consciousness when Wilbur turned around in his seat, a playful, endearing smile spreading across his face as he cooed at him was not unnoticed, but also not unwelcomed. Tommy reached out to bat away the brunette and his babying words, whining until Phil intervened and got Wilbur to gently knock it off. Tommy's mind echoed "Dad" at the old blonde's actions, letting himself snuggle into the man's warm side, the arm thrown protectively around his shoulders the final thing he needed to give in and fall asleep.
Waking up with his eyes still closed to the sound of a heavy sliding door being pulled open and the quiet shushing of Wilbur, Tommy willed his face to remain expressionless as he mourned the awake world around him, despite the still early evening hours and the fresh air of the young night from outside practically begging him to wake up and go out and continue to explore the beautiful city of Amsterdam. But Phil was still warm at his side, and the man was still treating his "sleeping" form like delicately spun sugar as he unbuckled him from the seat and set his hand to rest on his shoulder, gently begging him to wake up. Begrudgingly, Tommy let his still tired eyes flutter open, a frown growing into existence on his face.
"We're back home." Phil's voice was soft and quiet, indirectly asking the boy to get out of the van. Tommy groaned.
"I know, but come on, kiddo. You can go back to sleeping as soon as you're in your room."
Now that wasn't helping at all—Phil totally knew he was at least a little regressed.
The word "kiddo" reverberated in Tommy's mind, his eyes shutting again against his will and his body grew limp in the seat, another whine following as Charlie pulled forward the middle seat so he and Phil could climb out. Phil made do with the minimized responses.
"What, you wanna sleep here? In the back of the taxi?" he teased, a grumpy groan pushing Tommy to open his bleary eyes once more as he sat forwards. He was not going to get left in the van.
After stumbling down the little step, Tommy, with Phil close behind, was back on the pavement, the deepening blue skies and brightest of the nighttime's stars a pretty little sight as Tommy's head rolled backwards on his neck, eyes threatening to slip shut as cool air licked his cheeks, turning them a dollish pink.
"Come on, Tommy," Phil beckoned from the back of their group, both his and Tommy's bags weighing down his shoulders as the other three boys crossed into the hotel's cold, vaguely cucumber-scented lobby and began making their way towards the elevators, keycards reappearing from bag pockets. Tommy continued his trend of stumbling, slowly dragging his feet as he all but crashed into Phil's side once more, leaning somewhat on the shorter man as they made their way inside and to the lifts, the first elevator shutting just as they got there with Wilbur's hasty promise of a text later just about slipping through the closing metal doors. Phil called another lift and gave his attention completely back to Tommy, the boy on the verge on falling asleep standing upright as the sound of suitcases on smooth tiles and gently trickling water from a water wall trailed into the hallway from the lobby, a young couple checking in quietly at the counter.
Inside the elevator was warmer, the faux-gold railing around the perimeter the coldest thing in the little carpeted box. Phil poked the button denoting the floor they shared and the little white light next to it lit up.
"Phil?" Tommy murmured out of the blue.
"Yeah?" the man replied softly.
Tommy hummed, saying nothing more as he slouched his forehead into Phil's collarbone. Phil brought a hand up to run it through his pseudo-son's hair lovingly. "You alright, mate?" Another hum.
Soon enough, the doors opened again revealing the quiet corridor adorned with doors and gold-plated numbers. Phil took Tommy's hand in his, pulling the boy along gently to find his room. Tommy, upon realizing that they were heading to his room, whined and pulled against Phil's lead. Phil looked back, an eyebrow raised.
"C'n I go wit' you?" Tommy didn't look up from the floor, both of his hands softly clutching Phil's.
Phil found it sweet. "Aww, mate. Sure, come on." The smile that lit up Tommy's sleepy face worth liquid diamond as he changed direction, heading instead down the other end of the hallway towards his own room, the shiny 515 soon in view. Tommy whined when Phil had to let go of his hand to find his key card and unlock the door, reaching for it once more the moment the door was open.
The boy hovered at Phil's side as he set down their bags in the corner of the room, happy to finally be back in the hotel room.
"I take it you're feeling a bit small?" Phil addressed gently, turning to face his boy.
Tommy considered for a moment, nodding soon after.
It was almost odd; Tommy didn't regress very often, at least not over the last 6 months, especially compared to the previous year when he'd been slipping practically nightly. If he had to guess, it had probably been about 5 or 6 weeks since he'd last regressed. And since he didn't think he'd be needing them, Tommy hadn't bothered with bringing any of his little gear with him on the trip.
"Have a hug?" he asked his caregiver.
"Of course, mate. Come here," Phil replied with a smile, opening his arms for Tommy to fall into. "My precious little boy."
Mm, Phil always gave the bestest hugs; warm and safe and perfect all around. The kind you never wanted to end. The kind that actively had Tommy falling asleep, his chin resting on the older's shoulder, whining lightly.
"Let's go lay down, bub," Phil suggested, pressing a kiss to the side of Tommy's head as he pulled away. They mutually decided to just rid themselves of their jeans, their tops comfy enough to relax in. Besides, Tommy wasn't the only one on the verge of sleep.
Phil led the boy by their joined hands to the queen-sized bed in the centre of the room, its cloud-like covers resting atop the sheets, positioned perfectly by the cleaners—they were just begging to be collapsed into, so Tommy took the honours, faceplanting into the cool fabric and pressing his face into it.
Phil giggled behind him, scooping his legs which dangled off the side in his arms and turning him to (a) fit on the bed and (b) be comfier. He pulled the covers out from under Tommy and coercedTommy to scootch under before climbing in after him. They got comfy, Phil utilising the pillows and Tommy deciding to instead lay his head on Phil's chest (not that the man was complaining).
Phi produced his phone, an obvious question perched on his tongue, "D'you want a bedtime story?"
Tommy giggled, wriggling around a little in happiness, words failing him, though it didn't matter.
"Alright, alright, settle down, sweetheart," Phil scrolled through the story pdfs he had saved to his virtual library, all Tommy's. He chose one and tapped it, scrolling past the cover page before Tommy could see which one he picked.
Phil cleared his throat gently and began, "In the great green room, there was a telephone—"
Tommy squealed beside him, thumb trying to squeeze its way into his mouth—this was one of his favourites! Phil noticed and decided to hold the little's hand instead, shushing the boy gently so he could continue, the smile on his face as he held his little boy feeling more permanent by the second.
"In the great green room, there was a telephone, and a red balloon, and a picture of the cow jumping over the moon..."