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Wilbur lays on his back on the couch, holding his arms up to scroll on his phone without hurting his wrist.
A shriek of a meow captures his attention, all the warning he gets before claws dig into his thigh, the result of a certain kitten jumping onto the couch and scrambling for purchase.
He barely winces, used to the small pinpricks of pain.
Tommy scrambles up his sweater until he's standing on Wilbur's ribs, staring at him with possibly the bluest eyes he's ever seen.
"Hi, sunshine." Wilbur greets, lowering the phone and freeing a hand to pat the ragdoll. Tommy meows at him, leaning into his hand so much that he falls over, collapsing against his father's chest.
Wilbur grins, biting back laughter.
'Adorable.' He can't help but think, scratching behind Tommy's ear.
Tommy meows again, still just as much of a shriek as it always is, and picks himself up to crawl higher. He settles on his side, ear resting just over where Wilbur's heart is.
Wilbur pats him a few more times before leaving the kid to sleep in peace, pulling his phone back up.
⁕*⁕*⁕
Tommy pushes past Wilbur's door, making a beeline straight for his bed and staring up at him. He raises his arms and makes grabby hands, with a single vocalisation of "Papa."
Rolling his eyes, and pretending the action isn't entirely fond, Wilbur puts his book down and leans over the side of his bed to hook his hands under Tommy's arms and pull him into the air.
Giggling follows the action, and Tommy grins at him once safely on the mattress.
Wilbur smiles back at him, leaning closer to kiss him on the forehead. "Here to steal my bed are you, love?" Wilbur teases, shuffling to lay down slightly more. He knows that he's going to be used as a pillow.
Tommy doesn't answer, just laying down on him.
Unsurprisingly, he shifts to rest his head on Wilbur's chest, ear over his heart. Wilbur momentarily abandons his book, wrapping one arm around Tommy's back and raising the other to card his hand through his kid's hair.
"Night, papa." Tommy yawns, closing his eyes.
"Goodnight, sweetheart." Wilbur murmurs, kissing the top of his head.
⁕*⁕*⁕
Wilbur stretches out in the grass, digging his claws into the dirt. It's a nice and warm, clear day.
He intends to take advantage of it and go for a walk, see how many people he can get to pat him maybe, but his plan is interrupted.
Tommy slams into his side, trying to knock him over. All he succeeds in doing is startling Wilbur and knocking himself over.
Slowly, Wilbur turns his head to look at the kitten, who is flat on his back and looks surprised that his attack didn't work. Wilbur sighs and picks himself up, tail swinging leisurely behind himself, pawing at Tommy until he rolls onto his back.
The action earns a few indignant shrieks, but ultimately also earns compliance.
Wilbur scruffs him, ignoring the impressive impression of a boiling kettle, and trots over to his favourite spot in the yard, where there is currently a direct beam of golden sunlight.
He sets Tommy down, knocking their foreheads together before dragging his tongue over the top of Tommy's head, the closest he can get to a kiss as a cat.
Tommy huffs, swatting weakly at him.
Wilbur doesn't even have to evade.
He falls onto his side, pulling Tommy into his chest and curling around the kitten, closing his eyes against the bright light. Tommy doesn't struggle, snuggling into his fur and positioning himself so that he can hear his father's heartbeat better.
It's nice and warm in the sun, drawing both of them into slumber.