vagabond

chapter 15

Wilbur is a sappy fuck, Tommy's come to realize.

Really, he is. He can't go 2 minutes without letting out some saccharin sweet words accompanied by his usual teasing. But more than anything; he's been saying I love you a lot lately, and it'll be paired with a ruffle of his hair or a small squeeze of his hand and— and this, simply put, is fucking strange. Not— Not bad strange, it's good, it's a good kind of strange, but Tommy hasn't had this before, ever, ever, so everytime he hears this stupid man express his love towards him, he doesn't know how to deal with it. He's thrown directly out of his comfort zone, but it's weird— because the words, when coming from Wilbur, feel comfortable. But It's just— It's a different type of comfortable, and— God. Tommy doesn't fucking know. It's all weird and shit.

If you asked Tommy, he'd tell you that he wished he hadn't ever said he loved Wilbur in the first place. At least he wouldn't have to be dealing with this now. (He would also happen to be lying.)

Wilbur stares at the map stretched out in his gloved hands before successfully attempting to get Tommy's attention with a small opener, "It's a long walk till we get to Snowchester, huh?"

"Yes, Wilbur, it's taking for ever," Tommy whines, "My poor— My poor little man legs, they are struggling, Wilbur, they're struggling, help me, Wil."

"You'll live. Don't be so dramatic."

"You are so cold to me, and to think that once upon a time you'd say you love me," Dramatically, Tommy bends his back and puts his hand on his head— You know, the classic I-am-a-damsel-in-distress-and-I'm-going-to-faint pose. "All men do is lie."

Chuckling all the while, Wilbur rolls up the map and gently bonks Tommy's head with it, startling the boy. "Oh shut up already. I do love you, but you can absolutely handle a bit more walking."

And there he goes again, the stupid old fuck, with his silly little words of love, and his fond little laugh that appears amidst his sarcastic quips, making Tommy feel all appreciated and shit, and— He's a real dickhead, isn't he?

Tommy, startled and feeling strange as fuck, waits a moment until the silence gets unbearable before spitting out a very awkward and forced "Oh-Kay." which makes Wilbur laugh even more. (Tommy really likes making Wilbur laugh, in all honesty. It's all warm and neat in a way Tommy can't quite explain with words.)

"Trust me, you'll be fine, Toms. I mean— If you really need it, we could camp out for the rest of the day?"

"No- No, No No No, Wilbur, that is— Weakness, Wilbur, a sign of weakness, and, and I am not weak, Wilbur, I hope you know this. You should carry me instead!"

A hyena-like laugh escapes Wilbur's lips before he manages to splutter out a "I- I beg your pardon, Tommy?"

"Wilbur, my life happiness- My, My happiness in life, it would be increased greatly if you did this for me. I will do a powerpoint presentation for all the reasons as to why you should carry me right now. I can be very persuasive, if you didn't know."

"Oh, oh, I'm well aware, thank you very much, Tommy."

"Very glad to hear this, dearest William," Tommy says, pulling a stupid face and putting on a fancy british accent. "So, I assume you'll do this for me-"

"Shut up." Wilbur sighs in— quite honestly the most fondest way possible. Once again, so sweet it's saccharin.

"Yes, sir. But—"