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At first, Wilbur was against the move.
Unlike him, his older brothers were excited to escape the city and take up a small farm out in the countryside. Techno was ecstatic at the news. He went on and on about all the new plants he could tend to and the bunnies he was going to take care of.
After watching him suffer for so long, he eventually got on board with the idea. Yeah, Wilbur did hate the bugs, the heat, anything green and dirty, but he loved his family. If this was going to make them happy, it’d make him happy too.
…It was wishful thinking at best.
A week into their life in the new house and Wilbur was already ready to buy a train ticket and get the hell out of there. Waking up at ungodly hours in the morning to take care of the countless chores of the day was proving to be far too much for him already. Techno, however, was already an early bird. By the time Phil woke Wilbur up at six am to begin chores and have breakfast, Techno is coming back from his early morning run.
By the time afternoon hits and the chores are done for the day, Wilbur’s beaten down to a pulp. Today he lays in the lawn chair away from the itchy grass with his guitar in hand. He’s been so tired for the past week, and today’s the first time he’s managed to finish his work done early enough to relax and play.
Techno, not affected by the heat at all, crouches down in the garden. He tends to his strawberry plants and works quietly while Wilbur tugs at the guitar strings. The window hangs open, and Phil’s humming can just slightly be picked up on if he focuses enough. There’s a fire alarm beeping - Phil must be cooking lunch.
A short rustling quickly pulls Wilbur out of his concentration. He looks up at the woods that surround the backyard. A quick glance to Techno proves it wasn’t him.
“Did you hear that?” he asks.
“The fire alarm’s been going off for five minutes now,” Techno replies dryly.
He furrows his eyebrows together. “Not that,” he says, rolling his eyes. “No, there was like a rustling noise.”
Techno turns around to raise an incredulous eyebrow. “Really?”
He drops his shoulders in defeat. “Oh, shut up--”
“A rustlin’ noise coming from the woods? Oh darn, I wonder… Jus’ what could that be, you think?”
“You’re a bastard, you know that,” Wilbur huffs, setting his chin in his open palm. “It was like a weird rustling. Louder.”
“Weird noises come from the woods, Wilbur.”
“No, I know--” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hope it’s a bear, and it eats you.”
“It’d probably eat you first since you’re stickin’ your nose in his business,” Techno says. “Maybe you should try relaxin’?”
“I am relaxing,” Wilbur retorts.
He pauses. “Mhm… No.”
“No?” he hisses. “It’s - it’s not my fault there’s weird noises!”
“Have you tried not bein’ stressed ‘bout it?”
Wilbur climbs off of the chair. He stomps towards the bushes. If it’s a bear and he gets mauled to death, well, at least he’d be right. The rustling was far too loud for it to be any of the normal animals that scurry through their backyard.
He grabs the bush and pulls it to the side only for a, “Bitch!” to ring out.
Wilbur stops in his tracks.
Slowly, the bush in front of him stands up.
“What, was it a bunny?” Techno calls, a short snicker following.
Then, it runs away.
“I’m not too sure what that was,” Wilbur admits, lost in his trance. He rubs at his eyes to make sure he isn’t dreaming.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Techno huffs. “That I was right?”
Wilbur can only blink and stare out into the woods. He stays focused and trained for any hint of movement.
“I think… I think that bush just grew legs and ran away.”
“What.”
“Boys, it’s lunch time!” Phil calls, leaning out the backroom window. “Oh. Wasn’t there a bush there before?”
Wilbur turns to Techno with a knowing look.
The next day Wilbur finishes his chores even quicker than the previous day. He rushes to the backyard, and Techno trails out behind him. Today, however, Wilbur doesn’t grab his guitar. He sits at the treeline and scans every bush he sees.
Techno calls him crazy. Wilbur doesn’t budge.
By the time night comes, he hadn’t heard a single noise.
Tonight, however, sleep doesn’t come easy to Wilbur. Tossing and turning in his bed, Wilbur is beaten up by the summer’s heat. He shoots upright in his bed before going out into the backyard for a desperate breath of air.
He creaks open the patio door and stops as soon as he sees the same bush.
Except… it’s not a bush.
A figure stands in front of Wilbur. The moonlight shines over the white flowers, but now he can clearly see pale skin and hints of red.
“You’re a boy,” he blurts dumbly.
“And you’re a stupid bitch,” he huffs in return. “What are you doing in my home?”
Wilbur jabs his thumb towards the house. “This is my house.”
Tommy squints his eyes. “What house?” He looks past Wilbur and then around, but his eyes never settle. Almost as if he’s blatantly ignoring the two story house that stands right behind Wilbur’s back. “You’re in my house.”
Wilbur’s heard tales before - stories from Phil’s storybooks and Techno’s favorite mythologies. He’s never considered himself a believer in the supernatural, but he’s certainly never dismissed it entirely.
In the back of his mind, he had always known there was something out there.
He doesn’t know about aliens or monsters, but there’s a boy - a child - and he sticks out of place.
It doesn’t take Wilbur long to realize this child isn’t human.
“Your home is this garden,” he says, more of a question than anything else.
He cocks his head to the side. “The forest is my home,” he says. “And you’re trespassing. Leave, or I’ll kill you.”
A sinking suspicion rose up his spine. Something about this creature tells him he can’t see the house behind him.
He could easily escape. Wilbur’s not much of a fighter - not like his brother is - but he can easily step back into the house. This creature doesn’t look like he’d be much of a threat.
Wilbur, however, doesn’t budge. Something allures him to stay. Maybe that’s just this creature’s appeal.
“You’re a fae,” he blurts. “Aren’t you supposed to steal my name and lead me out into the woods?”
Distantly, Wilbur realizes he may be talking himself into his own death.
“I’m a what?” he parrots, squinting. “Stop - stop messing with me. I don’t like it.”
“I think,” Wilbur lulls, a bad idea covering him, “you should come inside.”
He looks back over his shoulders. “To the forest?”
“Nope,” Wilbur says, holding out his hand. “Come in.”
The creature hesitantly reaches forward. He doesn’t take Wilbur’s hand, but he walks next to him.
“Try anything funny, and I will kill you,” he warns.
Wilbur bites back an amused chuckle. “I just wanted to make you some hot chocolate. Maybe… Well, I was gonna ask for your name, but I suppose you wouldn’t be able to, hm?”
Wilbur opens the door and steps over the threshold. Behind him, he stops at the doorway and looks around. Then, he takes a hesitant step forward.
His eyes widen in a quick flash.
“Did I just teleport?” he exclaims, reeling around. He darts around Wilbur’s sunroom where a bunch of moving boxes are still left.
“It’s my home,” Wilbur replies. “Are fae able to eat chocolate? Or is that going to kill you?”
He narrows his eyes. “I don’t get lured to my death. You--” He points an accusatory finger. “You’re the one in danger here - not me!”
“The real one in danger is you if you keep yelling like that.” Wilbur walks through the backdoor and enters the rest of the home. There’s footsteps right on his heel.
They barge into the kitchen. Wilbur wastes no time grabbing two ceramic mugs.
“Unless you want to wake up my brothers, you might wanna keep your voice down,” he warns. “Are you able to eat chocolate?”
“I will take these bribes,” he says, not exactly listening to anything he’s saying.
Wilbur pours some milk into a measuring cup and heats it up in the microwave. He watches the light turn on and the plate begin to spin.
“Do you have a name?” Wilbur asks directly.
“A what?”
“Like what people call you,” Wilbur replies.
He makes a funny face. “I don’t see many people. They’re too scared of me to invade my land - unlike you, dumbass.”
Wilbur hardly doubts that’s the case.
“So… you don’t have one, a name?” Wilbur says. “Are you okay if I give you one?”
He blinks. “Call me whatever you’d like, I guess. What does that beeping mean?”
“It means it’s done,” Wilbur replies. He reaches forward to grab it when a new pair of footsteps pad into the kitchen.
“If you’re midnight cookin’, I hope you made some for--” There’s a distinct clash.
The two look up to a pink-haired man standing at a dead stop. In his hands, he clutches a white polar bear stuffed animal. At his feet lays a broken mug.
“There’s a child,” Technoblade blurts.
“Stay back!” he warns, pointing another finger.
“This is just…” he trails off, thinking. The first name pops into his head, and he thinks perfect. “Tommy. He’s the fairy bush.”
Wilbur follows his brother’s train of sight to the stranger standing in the kitchen.
Except, now, he is no longer more bush than human skin. His hair is blond. He’s small and wiry. He looks more human now, but flowers still remain across his skin. He’s wearing a patch of green, unlike any clothes he’s seen before.
“Cool,” Techno says, too tired to care. “Did you make a hot cocoa for me too?”
The three crowd around the mugs - three now instead of two.
Tommy peers over his. He waits until Techno and Wilbur lift theirs up to their lips before he finally wraps his hands around his own.
He lifts the mug cautiously up to his lips and tilts it up. Techno and Wilbur watch him for his reaction cautiously, only for him to drop it against the counter.
“Spicy!” he screams, waving his hand in front of his mouth. “You’ve poisoned me!”
“It’s hot chocolate,” Techno deadpans as he calmly sips his own.
Wilbur’s eyes pop out of his head. “Techno, are fae allergic to chocolate?”
Tommy grabs Wilbur’s mug and eagerly gulps it down. His face contorts in a wince, but he doesn’t let it go. “Why did you do this to me?”
“You’re the one who keeps drinking it!” Wilbur huffs.
“Yeah, I don’t think he’s allergic. He’s a fae, not a dog,” Techno says. “You need to blow on it, kid.”
The floorboards creak and three becomes four.
“Technoblade, Wilbur,” Phil begins, rubbing at his eyes. “Did you invite a fae into our kitchen?”
Wilbur sips at his hot chocolate. “Yup. Named him, too.” He pauses. “You use he him pronouns, yeah?”
Tommy squints. “What are pronouns?”
“It’s almost three am,” Phil blurts. “Whatever, invite dangerous fae into our home. Whatever!”
“He’s harmless,” Wilbur says at the same time Tommy announces, “I will kill you unless you offer me more of the poison.”
Tommy ends up drinking almost three mugs.
The four of them settle to sit around the table. All of their tired, crusty eyes are focused on Tommy, who eagerly rambles on and on about the stinky humans who have invaded his home.
“I’m sure we can work out an arrangement,” Phil says, resting his chin against his hand. “A powerful creature like yourself… I’m sure there’s some offerings you’d like.”
Tommy’s face flushes with a rosy pink. “Yes, I am powerful!” he shouts, banging his hands against the table. “That garden is on my home. So, it’s also mine.”
“Except we bought that with real, human money--”
Wilbur quickly interrupts Techno. “I have a proposition for you,” he says, deadly serious. “How about… we share the garden and our home.”
Phil and Techno’s jaws drop.
Tommy’s grin only grows wider. “If we share… does that mean you can give me more of the poison?”
“No more tonight,” Phil says quickly. “Lord knows you’ve had enough. You’ll be up all night.”
Tommy pauses. “And… you can keep calling me that name?”
“Of course, Tommy,” Wilbur says.
Tommy lights up. In an instant, a beautiful spread of flowers begin to bloom across the table. It starts as a vine and stretches all across.
“Thank you,” Tommy says, grinning maniacally.
At three am, three became four. A deal was made.
Unbeknown to them all, they’d made a much bigger deal than a property arrangement.
They made a family.
Or… just the sprouts of one beginning to bloom.