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Tommy stares at the sink, watching it slowly fill up.
He is, as Wilbur would call him, a silly baby boy, and loves baths as a cat. The actual bathtub poses a drowing risk with how small he is, so he often resorts to using the sink, like he currently is.
And since he's a literal kitten shifted, because the gods hate him or something, he has to sit on the counter and shift or he'll never make it up, because it's too far to jump.
Wilbur teases him about that.
Tommy will get his revenge one day.
He's pulled out of his thoughts when he notices that the water has gotten just a little bit too tall. Tommy turns the tap off, reaching into the water and pulling the plug out to drain the water to a better height. He is not drowning today, or any time soon for that matter.
Satisfied with the makeshift bath, a tiny ragdoll kitten takes over the space where he had just been.
Tommy jumps into the bath, squeezing his eyes closed as water splashes up around him.
Wilbur hates it when Tommy does that, but this is part of his revenge and he couldn't care less. Besides, Wilbur is currently across the hall, so it's not like he sees it.
A quiet purr starts in his chest, satisfied.
He goes in a few circles, delighting in the water swishing around him, before settling down, curling up in the sink.
Wilbur is going to be mad when he sees the water splashed on the mirror.
Tommy can't find it in himself to care.
---
By the time Wilbur actually comes to look for him the water has become uncomfortably cold, but Tommy is too tired to do anything about it.
"Tommy." Wilbur sighs, staring down at him with his hands on his hips. Tommy glares at him half heartedly before closing his eyes again, resting his cheek against the inside of the sink.
Wilbur picks him up by the scruff of the neck, hefting him out of the water. Tommy lets out a disgruntled meow when he's picked up, but it comes out as more of a squeak.
The noise of protest is disregarded, Wilbur wrapping him up in a small towel and laying him on his back, cradled in the crook of the man's arm.
"Little menace." Wilbur mutters, scratching under his chin before reaching into the sink and pulling the plug out of the drain. Tommy closes his eyes, resting the side of his head against the brunette's sweater.
Wilbur smoothes his hand over Tommy's cheek as he walks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and scratching behind his ear as he goes.
He's put down on Wilbur's bed, making him cry out in dissatisfaction. He wants cuddles god damn it!
"Oh hush you big baby." Wilbur tuts, unwrapping the towel from around Tommy, making him shiver, and starting to dry his fur. Tommy reluctantly puts up with it, waiting for more cuddles.
Tommy doesn't like having his fur towel dried, but Wilbur refuses to let his fur air dry so that he doesn't get sick. (Or run around and make everything else wet.)
Wilbur takes the towel and dissapears into his bathroom, not the one Tommy was in, to throw it in the washing basket. Tommy flips onto his stomach, shaking his still damp fur out and standing up.
He yelps when a weight suddenly slams into him, and he's knocked right onto his back again.
A spiked tongue swipes over his nose.
Wilbur starts to groom his fur, clearly displeased that it's still damp. Tommy is too, but he doesn't really want to deal with his fur being groomed.
Unfortunately, he can't do anything but endure it. Wilbur is laying on top of him, squishing him between the mattress and the elder cat's chest. He starts yowling, but Wilbur just moves his paw to push Tommy's face into his fur, muffling the cries.
He huffs, but eventually gives up.
Wilbur slowly pulls away, allowing him space to breathe again. Tommy just lays there for a moment, huffing and puffing. Wilbur seems satisfied that he's done with the fighting, and goes back to cleaning his fur, moving on to his neck.
Tommy wriggles a bit, ignoring the warning growl he receives, to make it easier to escape.
He wants cuddles, not to be groomed.
If Tommy escapes, Wilbur will grab him and curl around him.
Boom, cuddles. Foolproof.
Sure enough, he manages to swat at Wilbur, making him flinch back just enough for Tommy to free himself. He uses the elder being stunned to his advantage, stumbling to the edge of the bed and tumbling right off it.
Wilbur, because he's so freakishly tall, has a tall bed.
That means Tommy tumbles straight to the floor with very little grace from a long drop.
Ouch.
Shaking himself off is a bit of a painful affair, but Tommy soldiers on. The further he gets, the more Wilbur coddles him. Foolproof.
He makes it an entire three metres before Wilbur picks him up by the scruff of the neck. He struggles a little bit, but there's no real determination behind the movement.
Wilbur jumps onto the bed, trotting over to the centre of the mattress instead of just dropping Tommy like he usually does.
Maybe he messed with his father's instincts just a bit too much.
Oh well, it's too late to change anything now.
He's finally dropped when they reach the centre of the bed, landing him square on his back. Wilbur doesn't even give him a moment to adjust, dropping on top of him and encompassing him in warmth and fur.
Mew.
Tommy squeaks quietly, happy. Wilbur purrs, eyes blown wide as he stares down at the kitten. A slight haze takes over the edges of his thoughts, and Tommy doesn't try to fight it.
A rough tongue drags over the fur at the top of his head.
Wilbur wasn't done, then, despite the fact that Tommy's fur is entirely clean. Uncaring at this point, Tommy closes his eyes and goes lax, comfortable, safe, and happy.
⁕*⁕*⁕
Tommy wakes up shifted back.
He's laying on his front, arms bent and wedged under the pillow his head is resting on. There are blankets over him, but there's also a condensed patch of warmth on the small of his back.
Looking over his shoulder to the best of his ability, Tommy finds the culprit.
Wilbur.
The cat is curled up on his back, sound asleep and purring.
He huffs, closing his eyes and faceplanting back into the pillow. It smells like Wilbur. He smiles. It's slight, but still a smile.
The weight suddenly shifts, and Tommy soon finds small paws padding up his back.
Wilbur smooges his ear, purring a bit louder. "Wilby." Tommy cheers groggily, cracking his eyes open again to look at the cat. Wilbur meows a quiet greeting, nudging Tommy's cheek with his nose.
He slowly rolls onto his back, ignoring Wilbur's dissatisfied huff as he jumps down onto the mattress.
Tommy sluggishly holds his arms out, demanding more cuddles. Wilbur glares at him for a moment before huffing loudly and shifting, glaring at him again the moment he has the chance.
"Really, dear? I was comfortable." Wilbur complains half-heartedly, but Tommy pays it no mind.
"Papa." He mumbles, tucking himself into the man's chest.
Maybe he isn't fully back to human Tommy brain.
Wilbur softens, wrapping his arms around his kid and pulling him close. "Awe, are you still tired, baby?" Wilbur coos, pulling his head back just enough to kiss him on the forehead.
Tommy nods sleepily, earning another kiss to the forehead.
"Go back to sleep, sweetheart, dad's got you." Wilbur promises, tucking Tommy's head under his chin with one last kiss to the forehead, closer to his eyebrow.
He needs no further incentive, curling up as tightly as possible in the elder's arms and allowing sleep to wash him away again. As he does, he hears Wilbur start to hum, feeling shapes be traced into his back.
It's nice.