Work Text:
"So, how've you been, mate?" Phil began as the sound of Tommy leaving the call faded from the pair's ears.
Wilbur stared at the air above his laptop's monitor, his guitar, notebook and manuscript resting lazily on the other half of his bed, long since neglected. He didn't respond as he let himself genuinely consider the question. How was he? With a dejected sigh, he blinked back to the present.
"Fuckin' stressed, man."
"I can tell," Phil confessed, his tone mirroring Wilbur's. "You've seemed a bit out of it the whole night, and whenever you spoke you've just sounded exhausted."
"I'm that obvious?" Wilbur asked rhetorically with a tired smile, stretching his arms up into the air. The minimal talk ceased for a moment as the sound of Phil's typing filtered sporadically through the call.
"What's got you so busy?" the blonde eventually questioned, tasks finally set aside to leave all of his attention to the brunette.
Wilbur groaned, "Lovejoy things, mainly." Phil hummed in understanding. This was the same conversation they'd been having on and off for months now, even back before Pebble Brain's release. Seeing as it was now mid-March, Phil could hardly imagine being in Wilbur's shoes. Being so stressed for so long had to have some pretty bad side effects, right?
Neither spoke for a while, Phil giving the younger time to open up some more if he pleased, and Wilbur too scatterbrained to really formulate sentences. A thought came to Phil.
"Why don't you take a little break? Take some time and destress."
"I won't be able to relax until this is done," Wilbur explained like it was his hundredth time saying so, rubbing his eyelids with his fingertips, seeing stars.
"Well, what do you usually do to relax?" Phil asked, intent on getting the man to take a break.
"Work until it's done, then disappear from the face of the earth for a fortnight. Get shitfaced."
Opting to temporarily ignore how unhealthy that alone sounded, Phil pointed out a flaw, "But you've been busy and stressed like this since August, Will."
"I know, I just need to get this done."
"And then what?" Phil pressed. "You gonna start the next project? You gonna hop back into your office and stream for hours at a time, late into the night?"
Wilbur's silence spoke volumes.
"Will, that isn't healthy. People need to take breaks. And proper breaks, not just medicating with alcohol."
Wilbur groaned, "Don't start trying to lecture me, Phil. You aren't my dad." Wilbur held back from adding"He would never try to discourage unhealthy drinking habits"; the air between them was already getting stiff. The brunette wanted the conversation to come to a close. Phil was a good person, but right now he just needed to focus on his task. Even still, he couldn't muster the strength to reach back over and lift his guitar into his arms.
Phil thought about what he could do to help his friend. A thought struck him. It was out there, but hey, maybe it would be worth it. "What you need are coping mechanisms."
Wilbur brought his head up to gaze at Phil's Discord icon on his screen from where it had lolled back into his soft pillows. God, he was tired.
"Oh, do enlighten me, Phil," he humoured the older, just about ready to close his eyes for the night and probably the next day too.
Phil crossed his fingers, not really sure what for, but just for luck, he supposed. "Do you know what age regression is?"
Wilbur opened his eyes again, forgetting when he'd let them close. "The Tumblr thing?"
Phil couldn't help his chuckle, "It does pop up a bit on Tumblr, yes."
"What about it?"
"I think you should try regressing." Phil crossed his fingers a little harder.
Wilbur half-groaned-half-hummed, deciding to just call it quits on his musical endeavours for the night. He slid down on his pillows, now just about laying down. His eyes flickered closed again. He stayed there for a moment.
Oh, wait, he was talking to Phil, that's right.
"Hm?" he hummed.
Phil couldn't see the younger man, but he could still picture Wilbur falling asleep. He sighed, "Just go to sleep, mate."
Another Wilbur hum.
Phil waited in the quiet for a minute more, listening for another word from Wilbur. The minute passed with still no reply. "Will?" Still nothing. Had he actually just fallen asleep, right there and right then?
The muscles in Phil's face fell lax as he watched green appear around Wilbur's profile picture, feather-light snores just about being picked up by the brunette's mic.
Wilbur woke up to a knocking on his front door. He was startled awake, disoriented and with an ache in his neck. Looking around, his laptop had gone to sleep—or possibly died—and his guitar was miraculously still beside him on his bed, the light that crept into the room from the edges of the curtains prodding him, letting him know that the night had passed and the morning had come. The knocking came again, the tired man stumbling to get out of bed as he called out, voice hoarse, that'd he be there in a second.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he went, Wilbur hoped his hair wasn't too messy. He opened the door to find Phil. If he'd been any less tired, maybe Wilbur would have been gushing, asking all sorts of questions as to why the man was at his front door, first thing in the morning. Instead, he rubbed his eyes at the bright light of the sun.
"Philza?"
Phil smiled warmly, "Hiya, mate."
Wilbur didn't try fighting the smile that cropped up on his face at the familiarity of the phrase.
"Why the fuck are you here?" Wilbur asked through a yawn. "Not in a bad way."
Phil laughed, "To get you to relax for at least a day."
Wilbur opened his door wider, ushering the blonde inside. "Sorry, I literally just woke up," he chuckled, shutting the door behind them. "You hungry? If you give me a minute to change I could make us breakfast," he offered, pulling slightly at the sweats and striped t-shirt he'd fallen asleep in by mistake.
Phil laughed, "Will, mate, it's like almost 4 p.m."
That woke Wilbur up. "What?"
"I didn't think you'd still be asleep, but I'm honestly not surprised. You literally fell asleep mid-conversation last night."
Wilbur thought back, the night before a hazy blur. He felt his cheeks warm, "Sorry about that," he apologized as they drifted to the living room, both sitting down on the sofa absently as they talked. "What were we talking about?"
"Age regression," Phil answered easily, "More specifically about you trying regressing. We didn't get far though since someone decided to conk out for the night." The smile on his face played with his words' teasing tone.
"Sorry again." Wilbur kept apologizing.
"Stop apologizing, man. You were obviously tired and needed to sleep."
"Sorry." The moment he said it, Wilbur looked up and met Phil's eyes, both men breaking into laughter.
"So," Phil began as they sobered up. "About you regressing."
Wilbur's attention was caught again. He sort of knew what age regression was. I mean, come on, he'd had unrestricted internet access from day one. If it was online then there was a solid chance he knew what it was.
"I don't regress," Wilbur answered in Phil's silence.
"You ever wanted to?"
Wilbur shrugged, "Never gave it much thought."
"Well, would you want to?"
Wilbur hesitated, his unsaid words ones Phil had already predicted. "It's not wrong to regress or to want to regress, you know."
Wilbur knew that. Age regression wasn't hurting anyone, but he couldn't help but feel like it was sort of weird, no matter how much he wanted not to be judgmental.
"Yeah, I know. It's just—" He sighed, not really knowing how to say what he was feeling.
"Hey," Phil pulled him from his thoughts, "This is about you. If this is something you want, then that's all it is, nothing else. No one cares, man. This is for you."
Wilbur considered the man's words for a moment, already knowing what he wanted to say. "And if I did want to try regressing?"
"Well," Phil started with a grin, "What do you think I'm here for?"
Wilbur held back from spluttering, questions and outcomes sprouting up all over his mind at a rate so fast it was easier to just ignore all the "What if"'s and simply be happy that Phil had decided to take the trains all the way down here regardless. Wilbur felt loved, his cheeks pinkening again as he met Phil's gaze.
"I wanna try regressing, I think."
Phil smiled, "Wonderful. D'you wanna get food before or while you are regressed? I was thinking we order takeout either way."
Wilbur just couldn't help the way his stomach fluttered at the simple way Phil incorporated such an 'out-there' thing so seamlessly into their time together. If he didn't let himself fret, it all just sort of felt normal. So, he tried not to let himself fret.
"I'm easy," he replied. At the same moment, his stomach grumbled. He giggled behind his hand, a tad embarrassed.
Phil joined him in laughing, "Well, I guess that's decided. What are you feelin' for, sweetheart?" He asked, pulling out his phone.
Wilbur instantly looked over at Phil, the blonde's eyes trained unwaveringly on his screen as he swiped about. Oh. Wilbur felt some of the tension stored in his shoulders fall away.
"Um, I don't know. What do you want?"
"Anything, really." Phil gave a little laugh, "Though that doesn't really help, huh? Well, what do you not want?"
Wilbur thought for a moment, a drawn-out hum filling the silence. "Fish."
"No seafood, got it. Anything else?"
Wilbur groaned, slumping where he sat, "I don't know, you just pick. I trust your judgement."
"Okay, fine. One last thing, are you feeling more for fast food or for more proper food?"
"Mm, I'm not opposed to Mcdonald's," he considered with a smile. "The grease doesn't scare me."
Phil laughed at the unexpected remark. "You wanna get something from Mcdonald's, then?"
"Sure."
"Okay, come here. What do you want?"
Wilbur scootched over to Phil, looking over at his phone as he slowly scrolled down the chain's menu. The older man let his arm lace around Wilbur's shoulders, keeping him close.
Wilbur yawned as they read.
"Still tired?" Phil asked, his hand idly rubbing soothing patterns into his skin through his sweatshirt.
"Yeah," Wilbur replied through another yawn.
"If you want, you can go back to bed while we wait for our food to come."
Wilbur hummed, "But I don't wanna miss out on spending time with you."
"Oh, don't worry about that, you won't be missing anything. I can stay around a couple of days if you want."
"Really?" Wilbur asked, hopeful. It had been so long since Phil and he had gotten to hang out.
"Of course, kiddo."
Wilbur very quickly realised he liked the nicknames. He tried not to hesitate when he spoke.
"I like that." The words dusted pink across his cheeks.
"Hm?" Phil hummed, turning away from the menu, focusing all on Wilbur.
"The names," he stuttered. "Sweetheart, kiddo..."
Phil hummed again, smiling, "I'll keep that in mind, sweetheart." Wilbur felt a ball of warmth solidify in his rib cage.
Eventually, they decided on food, placing the order and paying the bill before Phil turned off his phone. Wilbur sort of knew what was going to happen next and was pointedly not looking at Phil. As nice as the nicknames had left him feeling, Wilbur could feel embarrassment sticking to his skin.
"Earth to Wilbur?" Phil called softly. Wilbur's head snapped to Phil's, his eyes wide. Phil smiled. "You're zoning out, mate."
Wilbur grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I was just... never mind."
"You can tell me if you want," Phil offered.
Wilbur was at a crossroads. On one hand sat the option to lie, say he was thinking about work, feeling a bit guilty about lying, and get told off for worrying over work, but at least he would save himself the embarrassment. On the other hand...
"Just thinking about the nicknames," Wilbur admitted quietly, head hung.
Phil smiled. "Aw, really? You like it that much?"
Wilbur nodded bashfully, smiling the smallest smile. "Mhm."
"Aww, Will! That's adorable."
Wilbur giggled in spite of himself.
"Well, in that case, we'd better go through all the names we can," Phil spoke with a shine to his eyes, "Find out what you like best."
Wilbur considered the idea quickly, agreeing within seconds.
And so they did, Phil taking his phone back out, Googling for 'nicknames for children'—the search term itself making Wilbur blush lightly— and tapping on the link to a website for new parents with apparently 200+ nicknames sorted into categories like animals and food, interestingly enough.
There were some very silly ones in the lists to the amusement of both the blonde and the brunette, from whatever a Pollywog was to the irony of 'Shortcake', to the utter ridiculousness of 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Changed' under the pop culture section.
But as many as there were funny ones, there were also the ones that painted Wilbur's imagination with soft tones of love, the brunette giving in when they reached Bubba under friendly nicknames and asking Phil to call him that one a few times in a row. Safe to say Wilbur loved it.
"What about you?" Wilbur asked when they finally finished the thorough list.
"You think I need a nickname too, bub?"
"Mhm!" Wilbur enthusiastically nodded. "Phil is so boring."
"Well, a lot of littles call their caregivers pretty traditional parental names like Mummy or Daddy or something similar."
"Daddy's too long," Wilbur decided. "Too many sybi- syli—"
"Syllables?" Phil offered when the younger struggled with the word, a knowing grin creeping onto his face. Wilbur never struggled with words.
"Mhm," Wilbur hummed. "Need somethin' smaller."
"Dad's equally common. Or Dada, or Papa, or some other variation." He didn't point out how these variants had the same number of syllables.
Wilbur giggled, "Dadza is real."
Phil laughed, "Always was, Bubba." Wilbur giggled again, going quiet as he thought.
"Can I call you Dada?" He asked, looking into Phil's eyes.
"Of course, Will—"
"Nuh-uh," Will interrupted, a mischievous smile parting his lips, "Nicknames only!"
"Okay, baby, if you say so," Phil complied.
"Yay!" Wilbur cheered lightly, clapping to himself.
Phil watched on knowingly; Wilbur had definitely slipped a bit. And just from some nicknames... Huh.
"Aww, you're too cute, mate" Phil commented. It was nice seeing his friend without the pressures of his work suffocating him.
"No 'm not," Wilbur weakly protested, covering most of his face with his hands under the flattery.
"Oh yeah you are," Phil countered, moving closer to the brunette to place his hands over his, shifting them to hold them. "You're the cutest, sweetest little guy around."
"Jus' sayin' that..."
"Oh come on, you don't believe your Dada?"
Wilbur whined softly. Phil could see it in his eyes as he continued to slip deeper and deeper into little space.
"Dada," Wilbur repeated simply, Phil letting him gently shake their joined hands about contentedly.
"Yeah, baby. That's me." Phil enthusiastically praised the little, drawing sweet giggles and coos from his mouth.
Wilbur was quiet for a moment and Phil could nearly see the thoughts forming behind his eyes; how they would blossom slowly and gently just to be brushed away in a haze. It was precious.
Wilbur giggled, holding onto Phil's fingers and playing with them. He babbled something out that made no sense at all to Phil, but that was fine. If the baby seemed happy, then all was well.