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“Tommy!”
Tommy skitters a laugh, and Wilbur can’t help his own laughter when the 6 year old hides poorly in the curtains. Shiny black shoes peek from under the baby blue fabric, and a lump disrupts the natural flow as well.
Wilbur walks past the curtains, “where are you Tommy? I just saw you.” Amusement glimmers in Wilbur when Tommy slaps a hand over his mouth, giggles still escaping the attempt at being quiet.
Quietly, Wilbur walks over to the curtains, smiling when Tommy moves. He probably couldn’t hear Wilbur anymore, and is wondering where he went.
“Boo!” Wilbur yells, yanking the curtain back. Tommy falls out of them with laughter racketing his small body, pushing at Wilbur when he goes to pick up the child. In retaliation, Wilbur hangs Tommy upside down, and Tommy’s previous attempts at escaping turns into desperate holding on.
“Put me down,” Tommy says, breathless from being swung back and forth upside down. “Daddy put me down!”
“This is why you should have finished your plate before you ran off,” Wilbur scolds lightly. It is what turned this into a cat and mouse game “As a punishment, you are getting tortured.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” Tommy whines, glaring at Wilbur as he still hands upside down from his feet. “Put me down.” Tommy crosses his arms, probably trying to impersonate Techno’s usual stance.
“No,” Wilbur laughs. “We are going back so you can finish your vegetables.”
“Your Majesty,” a voice from behind them says. Wilbur stiffens, flipping Tommy upright and holding him in his arms.
It’s Phil, Tommy’s butler that’s more of a babysitter. Wilbur immediately relaxes, the family friend practically raised him and Techno, and now Tommy.
“Hi Phil, and you don’t have to call me that,” Wilbur says, wrinkling his nose. The honorific is not welcome from people he considers family, and Phil has long been family.
Phil still bows at the waist, holding his arms out for Tommy. Tommy reaches for Phil, jumping up and down in the blonde man’s arms. “It’s unprofessional, Your Majesty. Plus, I don’t know what ears are listening and want to convict me for insubordination.”
Wilbur laughs, Phil says the same thing everytime. Tommy’s taken to resting his head on Phil’s shoulder, and he knows that making his kid finish his dinner is a lost cause.
“Will you come play with us, daddy? And Uncle Te’no too?” Tommy asks sweetly, jutting his lips out and tilting his big blue eyes to melt Wilbur’s heart. Oh, does Tommy want him dead or something?
He thinks back to the foot high pile of civic reports and the couple folders on the whereabouts of known insurgent groups in the country and then looks at his hopeful son. “Yeah, I can play.” He still waves a finger at Tommy. “This doesn’t mean you are getting out of vegetables every night though.”
Tommy throws his head back, and Wilbur ruffles his hair as they walk towards Tommy’s playroom. Tommy seems to be vibrating up and down, probably because he was promised his dad, uncle, and steward to all play with him.
“Call for General Technoblade, please,” Wilbur whispers to one of the guards following them, pushing open the doors to the playroom. The guard nods, marching off to the training grounds where Technoblade is most likely sparring.
“Dragons!” Tommy squeals, pushing at Phil to be let down.
“Tommy,” Wilbur reprimands, only feeling an inkling of guilt when Tommy freezes and gives him slightly fearful eyes. “Ask to be let down.”
“Can you let me down please,” Tommy asks Phil politely.
Phil chuckles out a laugh. “Thanks for asking, Your Highness. Do you want to play dragons again?”
Tommy nods so fast, Wilbur swears his head will fly off his shoulders. Dear Prime, does Wilbur need to expel some of this energy before bed.
“You called me?” Techno says from the doorway. His twin is disheveled, slightly dirty from what Wilbur assumes is practically rolling around in the dirt.
“I wanna play dragons, Te’no,” Tommy says, tugging on the end of Techno’s shirt. Techno instinctively picks Tommy up—the effect of being a small child.
Techno sighs fondly, bumping foreheads with his nephew. “Alright, Theseus. Let’s play dragons.”
Tommy cheers, hopping down from Techno’s arms and grabbing a wooden sword from the play chest. Wilbur would prefer for his son to not be wielding any swords until he’s at least 10 years old, but he had to compromise with the condition of only using the sword when an adult is in the room.
The 6 year old waves it in front of Phil’s face, determination crossing out the playfulness previously spelling across it. “Die you beast!” Tommy charges at Phil, sword held wrongly in the air as he stabs Phil in the chest.
Falsely. Falsely stabs Phil in the chest.
Dramatically, Phil falls to the ground, clutching the side of his chest and pretending to die. Tommy yells out triumphantly, and he trains his eyes on Wilbur.
Grinning, Wilbur slides left as his son runs at him with the sword pointed forwards. “Can’t catch me, little one.”
Tommy gives a frustrated huff of air, and from the doorway, Techno laughs. The distraction allows for Wilbur to scoop Tommy up and throw him on the big pile of blankets that always seems to cover the far corner of the room.
“Daddy no!” Tommy screams as he flies through the air, limbs askew. The child goes face first in the pile of fabric, giggling as he sits himself up. Wilbur can’t help the laughter that tears threw his body. Hell, even Phil is struggling to play dead and to keep his chest from rumbling up and down.
“Gottem there, Wil,” Techno says, lowering to sit on the floor. Tommy runs out of the pile of blankets and straight into Techno’s arms, giving his uncle a quick hug.
But there is nothing like a father and son relationship so Tommy bolts straight from Techno to Wilbur, clutching onto Wilbur’s shirt as he practically molds himself into Wilbur’s laugh.
It’s times like these that Wilbur wants to freeze the moment, to pretend that he’s not the king and Tommy’s not the crown prince and that they’re only worry is making sure each other is okay.
This is when Wilbur wants to abdicate any kingly duties and spend the rest of his life with his little golden sunshine safely in his reach.
“I love you, Toms,” Wilbur murmurs into Tommy’s hair, soft curls bouncing on his chin. His heart is overflowing with love for his son, and he needs Tommy to know that.
Tommy hugs Wilbur impossibly tighter. “I love you too daddy. I love you more than Henry.”
Now that is a big commitment. Tommy never has proclaimed any love higher than the stuffed animal his mother gave him moments after he was born and she died. For him to do so now, it warms Wilbur’s heart to the extreme.
Wilbur wraps Tommy closer to him, ignoring Phil’s sappy look and Techno’s amused expression.
“I love you more than anything in this world.”