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Wilbur was..... confused.
To be fair, Tommy confused him a lot. It was part of what made the kid so endearing, but usually it was just a weird joke he would make, or a random bit that made absolutely no sense but made Wilbur laugh without fail everytime despite not knowing what the hell the boy was on about.
This time, it was more so something Tommy did that was confusing him. At first he just assumed it was a random Tommy quirk that weird, but inevitably Wilbur would ignore.
But as time went on, and it still kept happening, his curiosity got the better of him and he decided he wanted answers.
But what was this mysterious Tommy quirk you may ask?
Well, Tommy had made a habit of stealing Wilbur's clothes, despite them being absolutely massive on him, he would, without fail, steal a jumper from the man everytime he visited.
That in and of itself is not too peculiar, no, what confused Wilbur was the fact that the boy would only steal his hoodies that were dirty.
Anything in his closet was always left untouched, but anything already worn and left on the floor or arm of the couch? Snatched up by the little gremlin!
It always confused the shit out of him. Why wouldn't Tommy want a clean sweater? Why wouldn't he just take something from his closet? Wouldn't that be nicer?
It didn't make any fucking sense whatsoever and the teen didn't seem bothered at all by it. Just snuggling into the way-too-oversized jumper and burying the lower half of his face into the collar.
Wilbur would be the first to admit it was the most adorable fucking thing he's ever seen and it made him melt every single time.
But he still wanted answers goddamnit!
So next time he caught the blond in the act, he finally questioned him.
When Wilbur walked into the living room, Tommy was already burrowed into one of Wilbur's unwashed jumpers, on his phone with sweater paws covering his hands and fabric hanging off his small frame where he sat on the couch.
He bit back a fond smile, nearly forgetting what he was going to ask in his lovesick-daze. He shook himself out of it as he walked further into the room.
Tommy looked up at him as he approached the sofa, shooting the older man a beaming grin as he fiddled with the hem of the sweater.
This time he didn't fight it, letting the dopey grin split across his features as he plopped down onto the couch next to the boy, he relaxed against the cushions with a sigh before turning back to Tommy.
"Hey, toms?"
Tommy hummed, lifting his sweater pawed hand up to his nose and resting it there.
Wilbur's lips quirked fondly, "Can I ask you something?"
The boy glanced up from where he had turned back to his phone, brows furrowing. "Yeah, of course, big dubs. What's up?"
"I've just been wondering —why do you never wear any of my clean jumpers? Like, wouldn't they be nicer? You know you're allowed to grab one out of my closet, you don't have to only wear the dirty ones"
To his surprise, Tommy flushed, pink dusting across his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he ducked his face into the sweater collar. The boy mumbled something incomprehensible into the soft fabric.
Wilbur leaned forward, gently pulling down the neckline so he could see Tommy's face, before tilting the kids face up with two fingers under his chin.
"What was that, darling?" He asked in a murmur, brushing his thumb across Tommy's jaw.
Tommy flushed a deeper shade of red, whining softly but leaning into the touch. "I said the clean ones smell like your stupid laundry detergent"
Wilbur chuckled a bit, amused. "That's typically how it works, my love"
The blond rolled his eyes, reaching a hand up to hold Wilbur's still cupping his face, playing with the mans long, calloused fingers. Wilbur's eyes crinkled at the sight.
"That still doesn't answer the question though," Wilbur prodded gently, "What've you got against my detergent?"
Tommy huffed, slumping into the cushions without letting go of the olders hand. "They just– the clean ones don't smell like you, and- and —it feels more comforting –safe, I guess– when they smell like you"
If Wilbur wasn't soft before he fucking is now.
This kid is gonna be the death of him.
(Though he certainly hoped that's not the case 'cause then he owed techno twenty pounds)
He made a choked off noise in the back of his throat and yanked Tommy forward by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, ignoring the startled yelp the action earned him.
He wrapped his arms tightly around the boy and buried his face into golden fluff, his eyes burned but he couldn't find it in himself to care.
"Tommy, oh my god,"He mumbled breathlessly into Tommy's hair, pressing little kisses across his scalp, blond curls tickling his face, "You're so adorable what the fuck"
The boy huffed half-heartedly, red creeping back up his face as he ducked his head under Wilbur's chin. "Shut up, asshole"
Wilbur laughed, bright and airy, pulling back just enough to coax Tommy out of his hiding spot, gently tilting his face up to meet the older man's overwhelmingly fond and adoring gaze.
The brunet giggled at his red face and nuzzled their noses together teasingly, "Awww, Tommy," he cooed, "don't be embarrassed! It's very sweet!"
Tommy glared, but melted into the man's hands as he peppered kisses across the boy's face, letting out a giggle of his own as Wilbur's stubble tickled his skin. He closed his eyes contentedly as Wilbur pulled back with a beaming grin.
The older gently tugged Tommy into his lap, immediately wrapping him back up in his arms, tucked away from the rest of the world, safe in Wilbur's protective hold.
Tommy tentatively reached his arms up to wrap around Wilbur's neck, pulling himself closer to his brother with a content purr.
Wilbur hummed, pleased, before changing it to a tune, humming a lullaby softly under his breath. Tommy melted further into him at the soothing sound.
"So," Wilbur started after finishing the song, voice mischievous but so fond it almost hurt, "what do I 'smell' like?" He asked with a grin, looking down lovingly at the boy curled into his arms.
Tommy hummed tiredly, half-asleep, he didn't bother opening his eyes as he responded. "Like your c'logne, an' –an' a libr'ry!"
Wilbur cocked an eyebrow with a laugh, "A library?" He questioned fondly.
Tommy smiled into his chest, "Yeah, like- like old books. 's nice, feels all s'fe"
Oh Lord have mercy.
"That's–" Wilbur choked out, "that's good. I- I'm glad"
Tommy sunk further, clearly about to fall asleep, face slack and squished adorably against Wilbur's sweater.
The man pressed his lips to Tommy's hairline, "Go to sleep, baby," he murmured lowly, closing his own eyes, "It's okay, I'll keep you safe"
He rocked them gently, swaying them slowly and resuming his humming –a half-remembered nursery rhyme.
Tommy snored softly, limp against his brother, face burrowed under his chin.
Wilbur leaned back against the armrest, taking Tommy with him, careful not to jostle the kid. He sighed contentedly and held him a little tighter.
He pressed one last kiss to Tommy's forehead, lingering.
"Goodnight, sweetheart, I love you more than anything"