Stolen Chances

Chapter Nine

"You know, this is technically a kidnapping," Tommy states as Wilbur sinks into his chair, one long leg stretching out beneath the table. They were at some family restaurant, which felt like a cruel joke to Tommy.

"You can leave at any time," Wilbur spoke as he looked over the cheap paper menu, "But the doctor said you needed to eat."

Tommy dropped the flimsy menu on the table, scowling at the man, "What are you doing?"

Wilbur blinked at him owlishly, "Reading the menu?"

Tommy rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, "No, I mean, what are you doing here? You showed up to my work, took me to the doctors for no fucking reason, and now we're what, getting breakfast together?"

"More of a lunch if anything," Wilbur draws a breath and then releases it. Tommy observes the nervous twitching of his fingers and the way tension settles in his shoulder even as his body language remains mostly relaxed. "I think I need to clear the air."

Tommy tilts his head curiously and warily alike. "Clear it then, dickhead,"

Wilbur gives a self-deprecating laugh as he grabs one of the paper napkins off of the table, rolling it between his fingers. "Tommy, I meant what I said when I first met you. We keep children away from the business; it's a dangerous thing." Wilbur's face twisted into an unusual expression that veers from the teasing grins that had become strangely familiar. "You weren't meant to get hurt last night, and I can't help but feel responsible."

"Well, good, cause it was your fault dickhead." Tommy blurts out before he can stop himself, "I mean, I wouldn't have been there in the first place." The sound of a napkin tearing filled the air. "But," Tommy dragged his eyes away from the brunette's hands with a rough swallow, "I'm also the dumbass who decided to run back."

Wilbur finally looks up at this, blinking at him, "Why?"

Tommy shrugged, ignoring the heavy stones settling in his stomach. It's the question that's been haunting him for weeks. Why? Why was he doing any of this? "Thought I could help. Was pretty dumb, innit?" A look of frustration settled over Wilbur's features as he tore up the napkin more. He's opened his mouth several times as if about to speak before closing it, gathering his thoughts. Finally, Tommy snorts, despite himself, "You guys going to jail wouldn't do me any favors."

Wilbur tilts his head, a strange look glinting in his eyes, "Tommy, why did you steal the extra file?"

Tommy grimaced as he jerked his head aside, "Recognized the name." Tommy says, and he wills the other to believe him.

Wilbur's brow is furrowed, head tilting, his gaze searching before finally dropping, "Alright, enough about work then."

"Actually," Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly, "I had a few questions."

Wilbur gave him a warning look, "I might not be able to answer."

Tommy only shrugged, "That Eret fellow, was he not supposed to be at the party?"

Wilbur sighs, shoulders folding down, "No, they were not."

"What does that mean then?"

Wilbur looks off to the side, letting out a frustrated breath before looking back at Tommy, "Means that one of our business partners is no longer working with us."

"Oh," Tommy's shoulders dropped as he leaned back in the booth seat. "What were you guys meeting about?"

Wilbur ignored Tommy's question, picking up the menu again with a hum, "You should figure out what you're going to eat."

Tommy rolled his eyes before picking up the menu, "Are you going to kill that kid?"

"Tommy," Wilbur's voice dips dangerously.

"Fine," Tommy hissed out before pointing to a burger on the menu. Then, after a beat, he asked again, "Is Technoblade his actual name?"

Wilbur laughs, tension all but swept away. "Fuck if I know."

"I thought you worked with the guy?"

Wilbur shrugged, "He's like a brother."

"Like?"

There was a complicated curl to Wilbur's lips, as if part of an inside joke, "We aren't actually related. Techno's a good friend of my dad's and now lives with us."

Tommy made a face at this, "You still live with your dad?"

"We run a business together. So why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. I didn't know living with your parents as an adult was an option."

Wilbur considers him for a moment, "It is for some."

"Don't pity me." Tommy bares his teeth at the man.

"It's not pity," but there was a look in Wilbur's eyes, a flash of something in brown eyes.

"I'm not some charity case-"

"It's not pity, Tommy," Wilbur interrupts him, and Tommy's mouth clicks shut, breathing out harshly. "It's anger." Wilbur breathes in with a flaring of his nose. "It's rage and sadness at the fact you didn't get to experience an actual childhood."

"Sounds an awful lot like pity to me." Tommy scowls.

Wilbur shifts, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms as he tips his head back up to stare at the ceiling, "Toms, if I could find whoever caused you so much distrust. Who conditioned you to reject help? Who taught you not how to live but survive." His head tips down to focus on him with a flicker of emotions Tommy doesn't understand. "I would disembowel them."

Tommy furrows his brows, chewing on the inside of his cheek. This wasn't a threat; it was a promise. A promise that sent warmth flooding through him as Wilbur sat back in his seat with a curl of his lips. Brown eyes burn into him, throat snaring tight. "I-" His lip trembles, "You confuse me." Wilbur considers him before leaning over the table at attention. "You say you don't want me dead, that you-" He shakes his head, "That you care in whatever way that means to you." Tommy bites out with a miserable half-choked laugh in his throat.

"I want to protect you," Wilbur admits.

"Then leave me alone," Tommy begs. "Stop sending me to these places. I'm not a fucking tool for you to use and then discard when I'm no longer useful. You don't get to tell me you care, then use me as shrapnel. If I wanted that, I would have stayed in the system."

There's a moment of silence, Tommy staring at Wilbur, Wilbur looking right back at him, before his body language shifts, a strange look that has turned predatory, as he lets out a sigh and Tommy draws a breath. "Eat your burger, Tommy."