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Tommy slips into Wilbur's room, socked feet nearly silent against the carpet.
Normally, Wilbur sleeps with his door closed, but for whatever reason, it's open right now. Sure, Tommy could've just opened the door and walked in if it were closed, but it likes to creak like a motherfucker (read: It sounds like someone screaming), and this is a stealth mission.
Wilbur used to leave his sweaters around everywhere, but now they're almost entirely confined to the man's room.
This wouldn't be a problem, if Tommy's secret stash of stolen clothing wasn't running low. Hence the stealth mission. Tommy knows for a fact that there's a sweater at the end of Wilbur's bed, and that's his target.
Wilbur shifts slightly as Tommy creeps closer, making him hold his breath and go still. But Wilbur stops shifting after a moment, remaining asleep. Slowly, Tommy pulls air back into his lungs, keeping as quiet as he can, now more weary, as he approaches the bed.
Snatching the sweater is suspiciously easy, but Tommy ignores that, bundling it in his arms and slowly creeping back out of the room.
'Mission successful.' Tommy thinks happily, slipping the fabric over his head.
The sweater hangs loosely over him, some parts sticking out from the pajama shirt underneath. Tommy is unbothered, burrying the lower half of his face in the baby blue sweater and slipping into his room, closing the door behind himself.
He crawls into bed, pulling a plushie that he may or may not have also stolen from Wilbur to his chest, holding it tightly. 'Yeah,' Tommy thinks, closing his eyes and relaxing. 'Mission very successful.'
⁕*⁕*⁕
"Tommy!" Wilbur yells, knocking on his door. Tommy just groans, tightening the hold around the orca plushie, burrying his face in the pillow under him.
"No, sweetheart, we are not doing this today. You have five minutes to get up before I drag you out of bed." Wilbur threatens, followed by the sound of shuffling as he presumably walks away. Tommy huffs, irritated, settling again.
Yeah right.
---
Tommy shrieks as the ground is suddenly no longer under him, cold nipping at him from the loss of his blankets.
"Wilby." Tommy whines, wrapping his arms around Wilbur's shoulders and burrying his face in the crook of the man's neck. Wilbur chuckles, kissing the top of his head. "In fairness, I did warn you." Wilbur points out, carrying him down the stairs.
"I didn't think you were serious." Tommy huffs, pulling his legs closer to his chest and forcing Wilbur to accommodate.
"Ah, well that is your problem, darling." Wilbur hums, setting Tommy down on one of the chairs at the dining table with a hair ruffle and a forehead kiss. Tommy swats lazily at him, half asleep. His sleep was disturbed, and he is incredibly mad about it.
"Will you forgive me if I give you another sweater?" Wilbur asks, words dripping in fondness. Tommy blinks, confused, then looks down.
Oh.
He's still wearing the sweater he stole earlier.
"Shut the fuck up." Tommy grumbles, curling into a ball on the seat, burrying his face in his arms. "Now now, none of that." Wilbut tuts, giggling as he pulls Tommy's arms out of the way. "My offer still stands, angel." Wilbur murmurs, cupping Tommy's face and tilting his head up, scattering a few unnecessarily forceful kisses across his forehead, cheeks and over the bridge of his nose.
Tommy squawks, swatting at Wilbur and struggling until he's been freed.
"Fuck you." He mumbles, getting out of the chair and trying to walk past Wilbur. Unfortunately for Tommy, his father has always been clingy.
Arms wrap around his waist, pulling him right into Wilbur's chest. The hold shifts before Tommy can try and escape, one arm staying wraped around his waist while the other reaches up so that Wilbur can burry a hand in his hair.
"Why are you being so clingy?" Tommy asks, closing his eyes and faceplanting into the brunette's shoulder. "Because you, my love, are wearing my presumed missing sweater, and it's fucking adorable." Wilbur grins, nuzzling into the side of his hair, pressing a kiss to his scalp. "No I am no-" His protest is cut off by a very firm, "Yes. Yes you are."
"Dad." Tommy whines, trying to wriggle his way free.
Wilbur tightens his hold, defiantly burrying his face further into Tommy's hair and closing his eyes. This is what joy is. This is what love feels like.
"It's my sweater, anyway, not yours." Tommy says, words muffled by the sweater Wilbur is wearing, the one his face is being pushed into. "Oh but of course, how silly of me?" Wilbur giggles, swaying them both as he starts to hum. Tommy makes a vague noise of agreement, allowing the soothing movement to lull him right back to sleep.
Wilbur would catch him if he fell.
⁕*⁕*⁕
'I'm cold.' Tommy thinks huffily, picking himself up. Wilbur is in the laundry, singing quietly along to the songs playing through his shitty phone speakers. Wilbur needs a new phone.
Preferably one with less water damage and less cracks on the screen.
Tommy puts the TV remote down, unsure why he was even still holding it, and carefully climbs the stairs. The laundry is down the hall beside the stairs, so he should be fine, but Wilbur is also superhuman or some shit and always knows when Tommy is up to something. Or when he's hurt/upset. Ok, maybe Wilbur just knows him really well, but that isn't as funny as him being superhuman only in the 'stopping Tommy from doing dumb shit' regard.
He tip-toes up the stairs, avoiding the boards that creak.
Wilbur's room is easy to get to once he's upstairs, and Tommy lets his guard down. He slips past Wilbur's door, careful not to touch it so that the hinges won't scream at him.
Grinning, Tommy walks up to Wilbur's closet. Since Wilbur is currently doing the laundry, there aren't really any dirty sweaters around, meaning Tommy has to settle for a clean one. The ones that don't smell like Wilbur.
Right as he goes to reach for one arms wrap around him, dragging him away from the land of sweaters.
Tommy shrieks, prying at the arms around his torso. "Wilbur!" Tommy whines, only succeeding in making the arms tighten around him. "You're a sweater thief." Wilbur accuses fondly, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.
"It's not thievery if they all belong to me." Tommy rebuts confidently, tilting his head back to look up at Wilbur, who looks down at him with a mixture of adoration, fondness and love. Wilbur kisses him on the temple. "Of course," Wilbur agrees easily, keeping his lips pressed to Tommy's temple, smiling and closing his eyes. "Whatever you want, my darling."
Tommy goes red, slumping against Wilbur's chest.
"Sappy motherfucker." Tommy grumbles, turning his gaze to the ceiling and the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to it. It's light out, and Wilbur's curtains are open, so they aren't glowing, but Tommy doesn't care. He still loves them just as much.
Wilbur hums, unbothered. "Only for you."
⁕*⁕*⁕
Tommy brushes past Wilbur's door, only wincing slightly as it creaks. Wilbur is out getting groceries, leaving Tommy the perfect opportunity to steal from him. Today, he is going to steal a pair of sweatpants, too.
On Wilbur's bed sit two sweaters, both of which Tommy scoops up.
A grin splits across Tommy's face as he next heads for the side of the wardrobe where Wilbur keeps his pants. There's a pair that Tommy has stolen countless times, and now he's going to steal them again. They're royal blue and have orcas printed at random all over them. They're way too big on him, but the drawstring stops them from falling off and he can always just cuff the ends of the legs.
He pulls them off the hanger, closing the closet door again and retreating from the room.
Despite not needing to, Tommy closes and locks his door behind himself. Again, Wilbur is out getting groceries, but Tommy still has a habit of locking his door so that Wilbur won't find his stash of stolen sweaters.
Triumphant, Tommy adds the clothes to the pile.
⁕*⁕*⁕
Grumbling, Tommy pulls himself out of bed. He yanks his door open, and Wilbur grins. "Hi, baby. Have you seen my sweaters? Or my orca sweatpants?" Wilbur asks knowingly, eyes crinkling with how hard he's grinning. Tommy scowls, rubbing at his eyes.
"No." He lies, stumbling forward and crashing into Wilbur's chest. Wilbur sputters in surprise at the sudden impact, but wraps his arms around Tommy regardless.
"Brat." Wilbur huffs fondly, running a hand up and down Tommy's back, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "Shut the fuck up." Tommy mumbles, burrying his face in the brunette's shoulder. "No, no I don't think I will actually, sweetheart." Wilbur chuckles, resting his cheek on the side of Tommy's head.
Tommy grumbles unintelligibly, irritated.
"You're the worst." Tommy declares, trying to let go and take a step back. Wilbur doesn't let him, laughing as he pulls Tommy right back into his chest. "Aww, sunshine, don't be mean." Wilbur faux pouts, peppering Tommy's face with kisses.
"Stttoooppp." Tommy whines, trying to free himself. Wilbur keeps laughing, burrying a hand in the back of his hair and pushing Tommy's head onto his shoulder.
"No thanks." Wilbur hums, giggling, tightening the hold he has around Tommy's waist.
⁕*⁕*⁕
Tommy grumbles, pulling Wilbur's sweater over his head.
He's wearing the sweatpants already, the ends rolled up and the drawstring pulled taut. Tommy picks up a plushie off his bed, the Sleepy Schlatt one, and trudges out of his room. Insomnia is a bitch, and Tommy is going to sue. He doesn't really know how he would, but that's a future Tommy problem.
Wilbur is, unsurprisingly, awake when he enters the man's room. Wilbur looks up from the book in his hands, going to speak before pausing when he actually looks at the boy.
"Oh, sunshine." Wilbur croons, placing a bookmark between the pages and setting his now closed book aside. "C'mere." Wilbur ushers, beckoning him closer with open arms. Tommy stumbles over, grumbling under his breath and clambering into Wilbur's lap, whose legs are crossed. Wilbur wraps Tommy in his arms, holding on tightly as he absolutely smothers Tommy with the kisses being littered across his face.
Tommy ducks his head, wrapping his arms around Wilbur's shoulders and burrying his face in the crook of the brunette's neck. The action earns a displeased noise, but Wilbur doesn't stop him.
"So sweet," Wilbur hums, seemingly over his displeasure already. "Little thief. Very adorable though, so it's fine." Tommy closes his eyes, uncaring as the precariously placed plush falls out of his lap from Wilbur jostling him. "You could commit I think every crime there is and no one would care." Wilbur murmurs, running a hand through Tommy's hair. "You're biased." Tommy points out, pressing closer.
"Maybe," Wilbur admits, shrugging. "But it's only fair, starlight. I think I'm supposed to be biased towards adorable little baby darlings who steal my heart every time they so much as breathe."
Tommy has a sneaking suspicion that he's going to wake up utterly trapped in Wilbur's arms and burried beneath a sea of blankets.
It doesn't bother him.