They couldn’t afford for Wilbur to be this ineffective. He didn’t really know what he’d been thinking. Now, he was slowly returning home, bruised and empty-handed. It was hard not to be impulsive when he saw someone in front of him with such good gear, although that very gear should have told him that he wouldn’t be able to beat them.
His attempt at robbing the bandits had been ill-advised. It was slightly painful to breathe in on account of the bruising around Wilbur’s ribs. It felt like a weight he hadn’t been aware of had been lifted from his shoulders. Not only that, but Wilbur had kept a scrap of Tommy tied to himself as well. Now he would always have a part of Wilbur with him, no matter what happened. Wilbur rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly, losing the anxious look. A mixture of relief and warmth flooded him.
Squinting, he could see that it was a small strip of the same type of fabric that made up his new scarf, tied tightly around Wilbur’s chest strap. Something on Wilbur’s shirt caught his eye. It seemed simple, but it was almost overwhelming.
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It meant that Wilbur had wanted to do this himself, had thought about how to make Tommy happy and acted upon it. Still, it was strange for Wilbur to do something like this out of the blue, on his own terms and unprompted by Tommy. He’d given Tommy his guitar and anything else he’d asked for. It meant that there weren’t many resources to spare. Wilbur was practical and economical, working hard to keep them both alive and thriving as much as possible. Based on the strained look Wilbur adopted, he hadn’t managed to be convincing. “No! No, it’s not strange, it’s very normal and regular,” Tommy reassured. “Is it so strange that I want you to have something nice?” Wilbur tilted his head at Tommy, rolling his shoulders restlessly.
“Why’d you give me this?” There were better things to spend their resources on than scarves, especially when they had a heater. This must have been expensive to trade for. Running his hand across one of the edges, he felt that it was softer than most everything else he owned. “Fuck you, of course I want it,” Tommy said quickly, wrapping it more tightly around himself. “My apologies, Tommy, we can’t all be master tailors. “Is this a scarf? Is this what you were working on the whole time? I don’t know how this took you so long, it’s just sort of a big block of fabric,” Tommy rambled. He looked down at his neck and saw a mass of olive green fabric. Flailing his arms around and letting out a few curses, he managed to escape from it’s grasp and direct a glare towards Wilbur, who was still laughing slightly. Wilbur’s giggling was muffled, as whatever he had attacked Tommy with was covering his ears. Suddenly, in a blur of limbs and a dark blob, his vision was obscured, along with the rest of his face. “Hey, Tommy,” Wilbur called from behind him. He was built for excitement and exploration and crime, not for maintenance.įootsteps plodded down the stairs, and Tommy stood up and took a step back, ready to tell Wilbur that he was going to have to fix this thing himself. Times like this really drove home how unsuited to his environment Tommy was. It was a safer strategy than fucking around aimlessly with the tubing. Maybe he could intimidate it into fixing itself. Tommy tried not to take it too personally, but it was difficult. Normally dealing with technology and utilities was Wilbur’s job, but Wilbur was busy working on something in their bedroom, and he told Tommy to stay out whenever he tried to enter. Every other appliance could pull its own weight, but the water purifier was a little bitch that gave up the ghost at even the slightest pressure or temperature change. The water purifier was the bane of Tommy’s existence.
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