A Book of One Shots - Requests Welcome

Worry || Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo || DSMP

  This is part two. If I were to make this a book, the Chase would probably be the prologue and this Chapter One.

Worry || Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo

Written by: emmict

Word Count: Roughly 1200 Words

Note: What did my past self write-

PART TWO of The Chase || Tommy and Tubbo || DSMP

Trigger Warning(s): Swearing, fighting, death / mentions of death, stavation / rations, injury.

 "Wilbur, I'm fine."

The aforementioned pursed his lips. Yesterday had been a hard day, and today wasn't looking to be much better. His hair was askew and in all directions. His glasses were crooked on his face, a crack beginning to make its way through the left lens. He really needed new glasses.

"No, you're not. You just got back from patrol, and I'm not sending you anywhere else. You need at least a day, h*ll, preferably two or three, to rest."

In return, Tommy stubbornly set his jaw. While the two loved each other like brothers, they rarely agreed on anything concerning the apocalypse.

"I'm f*cking fine! You can't make me stay, Wil. I'm not injured, and-"

"And nothing." Wilbur interrupted. "Dream, George, and Sapnap can take care of themselves. The three of them have been working together for years, and they're some of our most capable men."

"We barely have any f*cking men," Tommy sneered, frustration seething behind his gaze. "You make it sound like we have a d*mn army or something."

"We do," Wilbur said stiffly. "A modern day one, at least. They can get the sh*t we need done, done."

Tommy opened his mouth to continue arguing, but Wilbur cut him off again.

"Besides, Tubbo needs you here, and not out there." Tommy froze, then shook himself.

"Why does Tubbo need me?" Tommy scowled. "He's just fine! He's a big man, and he can take care of himself. He doesn't need me to baby him. He never has and never will."

"He's never lost someone before, and you don't know that there won't be a day when he will need you. In fact, yesterday could have been considered a day he needed you. You know d*mn well that he would have died on his own."

Tommy gave a snort. "You would have sent him with someone else. He wouldn't have been alone, dumb*ss."

Wilbur didn't respond, only stared at Tommy with an unreadable look. The younger shifted slightly under the scrutiny, then glanced away and out the dingy and battered window of the first floor of their base.

"Stop staring at me, it's f*cking creepy," Tommy muttered.

"Working yourself to death is not a good way to cope."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "I'm not coping. I'm doing just fine, thank you very much."

Wilbur pursed his lips again. "No, you are not. Ranboo was your friend, just as he was Tubbo's."

This time, Tommy laughed. But it was bitter, and not very convincing. "I don't care for that prick."

"Yes you do. And don't tell me you f*cking don't Tommy Innit." The blonde's head shot up at the use of his full name. Wilbur was already staring at him, eyes hard and cold. "I know what it's like to lose someone. I can recognize it well enough."