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“I love you,” Wilbur smiles- pure and soft, and all encompassing, with his teeth and upturned brows.
Tommy sighs contentedly as Wilbur’s thumb continues its ministrations under his eye. Callused pads of his fingers delicately tracing his bottom lash line, then smoothing his eyes back closed with a short pet of his eyelids. Tommy scoots himself closer to him so that he can lay his head onto his chest from his arm. Wilbur smoothly shifts to accommodate.
“You’re so precious, so lovely.”
Tommy allows the overwhelmed whine to tumble out from his throat. His cheeks burn red and he doesn’t doubt Wilbur can feel the heat from where his palms rest there.
Wilbur just coos at him. Precious little baby. Darling angel child. Sunshine, lovely. Wilbur dips his head to bury his face in Tommy’s hair, grinning into it.
“Stop that.” Tommy huffs, trying for agitated, but really only landing on exasperatedly fond.
“Hmm?” Wilbur hums with no less smugness than he’d held before.
“Stop thinking things about me. I can basically hear your sick thoughts from here.”
Wilbur huffs an amused laugh. He raises his hands in air quotes, “sick thoughts.” He raises a brow, “and what kind of thoughts would that entail, Tommy?” He couldn’t manage to keep the smile out of his voice.
“Like- gross gooey shit. Stop that.”
Wilbur giggles and boops Tommy’s scrunched up nose.
“You mean all the nice things I have to say about you?” He grins again, “Oh! Or perhaps you mean the fond memories I have of you? Hmm? The pet names perhaps?”
“Fuck off.”
Wilbur’s smile gains a playful edge as he shifts Tommy’s head over, with his hands cupping his jaw, to face him. His face is bright red. Wilbur coos. “Awwww, Tommyyy. Are you embarrassed? Hm? Can’t handle all my love and affection for you?” As if to prove a point, he leans down a bit and leaves several kisses to Tommy’s hairline.
Tommy shivers a bit. “Fuck you, I’m not. You’re just a prick… arsehole.” He stubbornly faces his head away from Wilbur’s open hands and warm, mirthful eyes.
It doesn’t have its intended effect, to deter the man, no. Instead Wilbur huffs a short breath of adoration and gathers Tommy further up and into his arms. Giving him a short squeeze and lying his head on the top of his, obnoxiously rubbing his cheek back and forth to muss up his hair. Tommy squawks and scrambles to bat him off with his held down hands. It does nothing but amuse the man as he happily holds his brother close.
“-mh. Fu-mck you-“ Tommy complains from where his face is squashed between Wilbur’s arm and shoulder. Wilbur giggles something sweet and hysterical. Tommy can’t help but smile along despite himself.
“You love me. So so so so soooo much.” He chirps, eyes screwing up into crescents as he lifts his head just slightly from atop Tommy’s. The boy immediately takes the chance to shift his face out and take a breath of Wilbur-free air. God bless.
He swivels his head up to the man. Glaring through squinted eyes, “Fuck. You.”
Wilbur rolls his eyes and simply leans over and pecks his brow until it’s unfurrowed, and he tries to not notice when Tommy melts because of it.
Tommy, stubborn even against himself, slings boneless arms around Wilbur’s neck and snuggles his head into his throat.
Wilbur coos lowly, and Tommy can feel the vibration. He sinks with it.
A hand comes up then, and comes to rest on the back of Tommy’s skull, cradling it. Tommy resigns to simply allowing it to hold its weight. Shuffling to free his other arm, Wilbur leans back some on the couch as to keep them from tumbling onto the ground, and preciously trails his hand up Tommy’s back then into his hair. There, he winds his finger through soft strays and presses down a soothing amount, rubbing his thumb against the short baby hairs behind Tommy’s ear.
Tommy’s whole body leans back, into the touch. And Wilbur wraps a leg from the ground to around Tommy’s back, shifting them both around so that should Wilbur’s hold somehow falter- it could never. He’d make sure of that- than there’d be much less chance of Tommy going crashing onto the floor.
Encouraged by the dramatic reaction, Wilbur takes to smoothing both his hands across Tommy’s scalp, keeping consistent pressure and rubbing delicate figures into the sides.
Tommy collapses.
Positively goo in Wilbur’s hands. Wilbur’s chest feels so warm then that it bursts through his throat, and waters his eyes and has him shortly gasping back a sob. A warmth so entirely filling his being that he doesn’t know what to do with it. How to deal with it. He never, ever wants to let this kid go. His kid. So instead, he tries to push as much of that overwhelming warmth, that love, as possible into the kid.
Cooing, and murmuring, and kissing his face over and over and over again, and Wilbur’s chest still feels tight. Sweltering. He whines high in his throat when Tommy hums and presses a smile into his neck, burrowing himself there. “Dearest darling baby love. Starshine moonbeam honeysuckle gem. Brother. Home, love.” He huffs under his breath between a million kisses to Tommy’s cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his ears. Pressing love into his features, framing his face with Wilbur’s adoration, his admiration, his helpless, hopeless tremendous love for this boy. For him.
Tommy thinks, for maybe a moment, to huff and make a big point to show Wilbur exactly what he means. To snort and observe his mushy stream of consciousness, knowing Wilbur’s surely seeing it too.
He doesn’t though, he feels much too full, too fuzzy to pull the energy to tease, to outwit. Besides, embarrassing as it is- and Tommy would absolutely /never/ admit it out loud- he actually quite likes the terms of endearment; the pet names. Well, that may be an understatement. The warmth that fills him with every unique guarantee that he’s on someone else’s mind enough that things like sunshine and preciousness remind them of him… it’s more than just a little overwhelming. It’s so large, and so Wilbur, that lump in his chest. Comfortably lodged between his ribcage and warming, always warming.
“..I love you.” Tommy whispers like a secret, hands tucked close to his chest in fists, curling his reddened features close by. Wilbur smiles so wide. So wide his eyes squint too far closed and his cheeks burn from the hold. He nuzzles his face back into Tommy’s hair, unable to form words. He whines instead, high and needy and rumbly from the back of his throat to vibrate numbly through Tommy’s skull, thrumming about the insides. Tommy doesn’t worry though. Tommy knows more than enough about all the sweet-nothings Wilbur holds in his mind, securely at the tip of his tongue, the roof of his mouth, just for him.