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Wilbur taps his fingers against his thigh, humming to himself. He and the rest of Lovejoy have a meeting in a few days, and he promised he'd have at least a draft by then.
Unfortunately, he can't really think of anything.
Sighing, Wilbur lays down, stretching out over the couch. He taps the end of the pen against his notepad, staring at the ceiling as if it'll give him inspiration. Footsteps capture his attention, making him pull his arms back to his chest. Tommy enters his field of vision, a blanket wrapped securely around his shoulders.
"Morning, sunshine." Wilbur greets, smiling at the teen. Tommy doesn't respond, but walks over. Wilbur's arms are shoved out of the way, making him raise an eyebrow, then Tommy just lays on top of him.
"What are you doing?" Tommy asks, closing his eyes and tucking his head under Wilbur's chin. "Well, I was trying to figure out some song lyrics, until a certain gremlin child came and distracted me." Wilbur answers, wrapping his arms around Tommy and glancing at his notepad. "Fuck you." Tommy grumbles, kicking the man in the ankle.
There's barely any force behind it, but Wilbur still gasps like he's been mortally wounded.
"Rude." He scoffs, turning his amused smile to the ceiling. "Deserved." Tommy corrects haughtily, pressing his cheek into Wilbur's collarbone. He snorts, biting back full blown laughter when Tommy makes a sound of discontent, having been disturbed.
"Keep telling yourself that, bubs." Wilbur huffs, moving to rest his cheek against Tommy's head.
"I will, actually." Tommy mumbles, earning an eye roll. Wilbur slides the pen between the rings binding the notebook pages together, leaving him with a free hand to run through Tommy's hair. "Love you." He says, scratching gently at the blonde's scalp. "Love you too, dumbass."
A few minutes pass and Wilbur pulls his hand from Tommy's hair, instead tapping a pattern against the teen's shoulderblade. He soon starts humming along, inspiration finally striking. Wilbur takes the pen back out of the rings, starting to write. "I bet you went to private school." Tommy says suddenly, breaking through the relative silence.
Wilbur jolts.
"Jesus christ, love," Wilbur huffs, wrapping his arms loosely around Tommy's waist. "I thought you were asleep." Tommy just shrugs, uncaring.
"I bet you did." Tommy repeats, shifting again and burrying his face in the crook of Wilbur's neck. "Why are you insulting me?" Wilbur sighs, incredibly fond, amusement hidden behind fake sulking.
"Because you're a loser and you deserve it." Tommy mumbles, wedging his arms under Wilbur's back.
Wilbur rolls his eyes, resting the side of his jaw back against Tommy's hair. He goes back to writing, the scribbling of the pen against the notepad the only sound he can hear, other than both of their breathing. After a moment, Tommy starts to hum. Wilbur pays it little mind, until he realises he recognises the song. "Are you really humming One Day right now?" He asks, putting his notepad back down and wrapping his arms back around Tommy.
Tommy hums a yes, snuggling closer.
Wilbur's heart is going to melt.
"Oh, darling, you're so sweet." Wilbur coos, reaching up to thread a hand through Tommy's hair again, scratching at the boy's scalp as he goes. Tommy grumbles, pressing his face further into Wilbur's neck. Most of it is unintelligible, but what Wilbur does catch is just Tommy cursing him out and going on about he isn't sweet.
Wilbur rolls his eyes again, squeezing Tommy to try and ease some of the pressure building in his chest, created by the possessive, clingy creature living there.
"Ow." Tommy deadpans, lifting his head to look up at him. Wilbur tsks, pushing Tommy's head back into the crook of his neck, keeping a hand at the base of his skull so that he can't move again. "I know for a fact that did not hurt." Wilbur tuts, squeezing Tommy harder for good measure.
"Fuck you. Maybe my bones are just brittle. Ever think of that, hm?" Tommy snarks, earning only a sigh.
"Go to sleep, baby." Wilbur murmurs, twirling Tommy's hair around his fingers. "But I'm not tired." Tommy complains, ignoring the arm tightening around his waist. "You always fall asleep when we cuddle, sweet thing." Wilbur points out smugly, tilting his head to the side to rest his chin entirely on Tommy's hair. "I hate you." Is all the boy can offer, huffing. Wilbur chuckles.