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Wilbur smiled as Tommy squirmed.
“Darling, please hold still. I’m trying to put on your raincoat.”
The six year old whined, still trying to wiggle out of the man’s hold. “I want out! You have to hurry, dad or else the rain will go away!”
Wilbur helped adjust the jacket, butting it shut. “The rain isn’t going anywhere, love. And neither are you until you get ready for the weather.”
Tommy leaned his head back in a groan. “But you’re taking so long.”
Wilbur flicked Tommy on the forehead, drawing the boy’s attention away from complaining to stare at the assaulting finger. His eyes crossed adorably, Wilbur holding back a coo. “I won’t take so long if you just stay still.”
Tommy’s eyes snapped back to him. “Fine.”
Tommy stopped his squirming, letting Wilbur pull on his hat and grab his rain boots. Tommy grabbed onto Wilbur’s shoulder, lifting his foot. Wilbur helped shimmy it on before Tommy switched feet, doing the same to the opposite.
Wilbur then clapped his hands together. “How’s that?”
“Good. Now can we go.”
Wilbur chuckled softly. “Sure, sunshine. Let’s go.”
Wilbur opened the door, grinning as Tommy rushed past him and ran straight for a muddy puddle. The boy leapt as high as his little legs could take him, slamming down onto the wet muck and sending it flying. The boy’s giggle filled his ears, Wilbur melting.
It was moments like these Wilbur loved the most. Just him and his boy enjoying being alive.
“Daddy! Look how big of a splash I made!” Tommy shouted.
Wilbur gave a thumbs up. “I saw! That was a big one. Bet you can make an even bigger splash in that one over there!”
Tommy looked at where Wilbur was pointing, interest piqued. The boy grinned, rushing over to do the same.
Wilbur sat down on his porch, umbrella above him keeping him from getting too wet. He’d have to get Tommy cleaned up, and he’d probably have to clean the house of mud and filth too. But it was worth it to see that smile on his boy’s face.
He hopes it never disappeared.
-/-/-/-/-/-
Wilbur sighed as he pulled his hand back, frowning at his baby boy. Tommy looked awful. His face was pale, only a slight flush to his cheeks as sweat ran down them. The boy’s hair stuck to his forehead, Wilbur brushing it away.
“I think you may be sick, Toms.”
Tommy coughed, a wet and gross sound. “Nuh uh. I feel— *Achoo!* Fine.”
Wilbur smiled, standing up and heading to the nearby kitchen drawer. He pulled it open, grabbing the thermometer and heading back to the couch.
“Let’s test that theory then, shall we?”
Tommy turned, letting Wilbur place the device in Tommy’s ear. After a moment, it let out a loud beep. He pulled it back, looking over the glowing red number.
102.
Wilbur turned it around, giving the boy a sad look. “What’s that number, Toms?”
“That’s… 102. Is that bad?”
Wilbur brushed his fingers through Tommy’s hair once more. “Yes, sweetheart. That’s a pretty high fever. You’ll be staying here for today and I’ll call off work.”
Tommy frowned. “I’m sorry.”
Wilbur shook his head. “It’s not your fault, lovely. You probably picked it up from Hannah at the daycare. Mrs. Lauren called me to let me know so I could watch out. Looks like the bug passed on to you.”
Tommy leaned into Wilbur’s hand, eyes fluttering shut. “‘m tired, Wilby.”
Wilbur brushed his thumb over the boy’s eyebrows. “I know, darling. Give me one second to get you some medicine and then you can sleep.”
Wilbur stood back up, heading to the medicine cabinet and opening it up. He grabbed some of the medication there, filling a tiny cup with the liquid before heading back to the living room.
Wilbur got to his knees, carefully propping Tommy up with one arm and using the other to hold the medicine to the boy’s lips.
Tommy whined, trying to turn his head. “Don’ wanna. Tastes bad.”
“Just a couple sips then it’ll be all gone,” Wilbur promised. “C’mon, sunshine. Open wide for me.”
The boy blinked at him, reluctantly opening his mouth. Wilbur tilted his head back, letting the medicine pour inside before shutting Tommy’s mouth. The boy swallowed, wincing at the feeling of it sliding down his sore throat.
“You go ahead and rest. I’ll take care of the rest.” Wilbur leaned over, kissing Tommy’s temple. The boy let his eyes fall shut, soft breaths leaving him as he quickly knocked out.
Wilbur stood up, adjusting the blankets and pillows around Tommy once more before heading to the bathroom. He grabbed a nice, fresh wash rag. He put the rag under some cool water, letting it dampen before wringing it out. Then, he returned back to his son’s side.
Wilbur, with the utmost gentleness, began to swipe away at the sticky sweat along Tommy’s neck and face. He made sure the touch was light and soft, to ensure that Tommy wasn’t disturbed.
Such a little body had to work extra hard to fight off the sickness. Once Wilbur finished, he set the rag on Tommy’s forehead, running his thumb over his cheek.
Would Wilbur get sick from taking care of Tommy? Most likely, that typically happened with parents. Children were too snotty and they didn’t want to cover their mouths and all they wanted was for you to be near them.
And how could Wilbur say no to his precious boy? As gross and disgusting as a child was when they were sick, Wilbur couldn’t find it in himself to care. That was his boy, and he needed him.
That’s all that mattered.
-/-/-/-/-/-
Tommy smiled as he got dressed, stuffing his small backpack with what he needed before throwing the door open and rushing into the kitchen.
Wilbur was there, packing his lunch in his Spider-Man lunchbox.
Tommy grinned, jumping up and down. “Back to school! Back to school!”
Wilbur smiled, sniffling before letting out a large sneeze. “Yes, darling. You’re going back to school today.” Wilbur’s voice was nasally and worn.
Tommy stopped his jumping, frowning at his father. “Are you alright, Dad?”
Wilbur nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright. Think I just got a little sick is all. I’ll be staying home and resting. You have a good day at school.”
Wilbur handed Tommy his lunchbox. Tommy took it, beaming at his father. “Okay! I’ll see you later, Dad!”
Tommy skipped away, Wilbur watching closely as the boy went outside and to the bus stop. Once he was sure Tommy was safely aboard, he went back to his room. He quickly got into a comfy robe, grabbing a box of tissues and settling down on the couch. He propped his head on a pillow, clicking on the TV. He flipped through a few channels, eventually settling on the news.
Wow… He really was becoming one of those old parents now, wasn’t he?
He chuckled to himself, grabbing a tissue to blow his nose.
It was inevitable, really. Wilbur settled into his spot, sighing at the calm atmosphere.
Listen, he loved Tommy. Tommy was his whole entire world.
But.
It was nice to have a moment alone. A moment to let life fade away to the droning of the TV without having to worry that Tommy hurt himself or was hungry or drew on the walls again or somehow dragged mud in the house despite not going outside.
Wilbur smiled.
He couldn’t wait to give his boy a big hug and kiss on the forehead when he got back home.