Perfect Family

Chapter Two: A Day in the Life of a Big Man

[Edited]

"Tommy!" Wilbur pounds on his oak door. "Get the fuck up, Dad made pancakes. You get the pleasure of eating the rest of them. Dad said so." Wilbur declared, smugly.

"Five more minutes" The blonde groaned, wrapped up a thick red blanket, blocking out the rest of the world while the pounding on his door intensified.

"Get the fuck out here before I drag you out myself." Wilbur threatened, still mercilessly pounding on the blonde's door. Begrudgingly, Tommy rose from his bed, untangling himself from his blanket.

"I'll be out in a minute," He yelled making the pounding on his door stop as he ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to contain his blonde curls.

It's time to get ready.
He picked out a simple outfit: plain cargo pants and a white hoodie with red sleeves and got changed in two minutes flat. He would typically wear something like this. Not giving people the impression that he was unkempt or that he was equal to royalty like his older brother Technoblade tended to, he was simply Tommy. Tommy barely got by at school. Tommy didn't have a talent. Tommy wouldn't get a scholarship like his brothers. Tommy wasn't special. Tommy was just . . . Tommy.

He proceeded with the necessities, clearing his muddled thoughts. Acne cream for his forehead, cologne, meds, brushed his teeth, contacts, typical things. For a typical kid.

"Tommy!" Wilbur's call interrupted Tommy from his short one-man concert in their shared bathroom, singing some song by Bruno Mars. "You're taking too long! It's already been fifteen minutes and the pancakes aren't eaten yet. Don't let them get cold" Wilbur called for him in a sing-song voice from the other side of Tommy's door, unnaturally respecting his privacy.

The blonde threw on a smile. It was one of Wilbur's good days. Not a, 'comfort your brother', or 'fix your brother's mess', or even 'look what you did now riling your brother up like that!'.

Bounding out of the bathroom and finally ready to try his father's new (and probably horrible) creation, he slammed into the brunette, knocking his fake glasses off his nose which earned Tommy a glare.

Way to go Tommy. Poke the beast, why don't you?

"Glad to see Sleepy Beauty is finally up." Wilbur mocked, smirking at the discomfort plastered across the blonde's face. He is a big man. He is not a Sleeping Beauty like his brother tends to mock. He was the one who woke up early and got everyone else up when they had somewhere to be. And a certain someone was the one who tended to refuse to step foot outside of the comfort of his bed.

"Now come on! These pancakes aren't going to get rid of themselves fast enough." Wilbur whined. Motioning for Tommy to follow him downstairs, desperate to get rid of the horrid pancakes Tommy was about to brave.

"Race you there!" Tommy exclaimed before taking off down the hallway, nearly at the speed of light, as a helpless Wilbur chased after to but couldn't catch up to the All-Mighty-Big-Man-Tommy-Innit and his lighting-fast skills. Or in other words, Wilbur creamed him, already in the kitchen throwing pancakes at him from across the room accompanied with a war cry by the time he even set foot in the well-loved kitchen.

"Come on eat them," Wilbur urged, practically shoving the pancake that he had thrown at Tommy only minutes before, down his throat. "You want to be part of this household right? We can always return you to where you came from."

Techno spared a glance from his book 'The Art of War by Sun Tzu that he was rereading for what must be the fifth time, assessing the situation before quickly opting to block everything out rather than get involved. Everyone is expandable and Phil's pancakes and rancid.

Phil, without a word, peaked his head out of the laundry room to see what the yelling was about but went back to doing his laundry after seeing that he probably wouldn't want to get involved and also get pelted by his horrid creation.

The beeping of the washing machine rang through the house as it started up. Phil's dress shoes clicked on the tiles. Tommy immediately froze mid-throw, pancake half-crushed in his grasp, as Wilbur ignored the new presence, letting a pancake rip and smacking a defenseless Tommy in the nose with surprising force.

He even dared to giggle.

"Tommy, what do you think you're doing?" Phil glared at him from across the room as Tommy shrank in his skin, feeling the need to shrivel up in a deep hole and stay there. "I can't believe that you acted so irresponsibly! What were you thinking throwing pancakes around the kitchen?"

"But Wilbur-"

"No buts Tommy, don't place the blame on Wilbur. Clean it up and then go to your room. Don't expect to come to Kinoko's for dinner with us." The man stormed off to most likely his office where he tended to stay holed up in for hours at a time randomly. Whether it be in the middle of the night or from breakfast to dinner, you could always find him in his little office.

"Oh, someone's in trouble." Wilbur mocked as Tommy sank to his knees to start cleaning up the pancakes, thanking whatever god is out there that he didn't have to eat them.
"Shut. Up." Tommy muttered under his breath.

"What was that Tommy?" No response. "That's what I thought."

0O0

Phil gently knocked on Tommy's door, letting himself in to find Tommy doodling in a sketchbook that he hastily scrambled to hide under his slightly lumpy mattress.

"Look Toms, I'm sorry. I've just been stressed with work lately and I was really out of it this morning. What you did was unacceptable in this household –as you should know by now– but I still shouldn't have talked to you like that. Would you like to come down for lunch?" Phil asked.

"No thanks. But thanks for coming up here, Phil."

"It's no problem." Phil snuck out of the room as quickly as he appeared.

"I guess I don't get to try that new restaurant," Tommy muttered under his breath. "Might as well finish some school work. Bloody hell, I still have that essay due and I have a math test tomorrow. Who gives out math tests on Mondays? Like, come on."

Little did he know, someone (or something) was listening.

What a morning.