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Tommy lifts a precarious paw over the muddy puddle on their porch steps and looks up determinedly as if ready to spite god. His tail sways behind him, and the very tip of it flicks back and forth.
The door ahead of him is left slightly ajar from his great escape, and for some reason he really hopes someone comes out and catches him in the act. The look on their faces as he’d be able to hold this small victory triumphantly over their heads would be priceless.
Thoroughly encouraged now, Tommy sits back on his hindlegs and slowly lowers his paw down to the puddle.
The water ripples with a small sploosh under the weight and Tommy dares let out a little self satisfied meow.
Only a second later, the frontdoor to the house creaks further open and without Tommy’s monitoring of it, out slips Wilbur who creeps up behind him with much ease.
Tommy yelps as he suddenly feels himself being lifted up by the scruff of his neck and he tries desperately to kick his limbs out at the face of the offender.
Wilbur only lets out an amused hum around the fur in his mouth and pads back inside, ignoring the open door entirely.
They make their way down the hall with Tommy meowing and complaining the whole time. With quick light steps Wilbur ascends up the stairs and into the first bedroom on the right.
The moment they step through the door the wave of warmth and an overwhelming smell of Wilbur hits Tommy straight in the face. Through his already fuzzied mind from being scruffed, he tries his hardest not to relax at the familiar scent.
Wilbur’s grip on him tightens ever so slightly as he reads back to leap up onto his bed. Tommy’s tail flicks up at the motion and straight into Wilbur’s eye. A win, if you ask him.
Immediately Wilbur releases his hold of Tommy and the kitten tumbles quickly onto the comforter in front of him.
He whips his head around to glare at the other, but finds him there snobbishly grooming at his own paw, pointedly not giving Tommy the satisfaction of a reaction.
He squints his eyes and lowers down between his front paws, stalking slowly closer to Wilbur. The latter sits still, idly licking at the pads of his paw when Tommy leaps up and pounces at him.
Wilbur meows something surprised before he rolls right back and subsequently over him. Tommy complains, and swats at him until finally he complies and falls lazily onto the mattress, off of Tommy’s exaggeratedly huffing form. He rolls his eyes and reaches his arms out to grab at Tommy and bring him closer to him.
As much as the small blonde tabby wriggles in his grip, he stops almost immediately as Wilbur begins licking at his ears. Tommy’s arm stubbornly attempts a quick swat at Wilbur’s head above him, but Wil just regathers him closer in response. A pout would be on his face if he could possibly form one. He feels his left paw get lifted from under him and it causes him to hesitantly tumble over onto his back. Wilbur sets to clean off the little bit of mud that Tommy did manage to get on him.
A small stuttering rumble starts up in Tommy’s chest at his brother’s fur encompassing his own. Wilbur’s a brown Siberian and so his fur has always been much longer than Tommy’s own short blonde Tabby fur, and times like this, when Tommy’s all cuddled up and held by Wilbur, the warmth it makes is unmatched.
Wilbur makes a low approving noise as Tommy extends his claws and shifts his shoulders, burrowing his weight back further into his belly. Nipping gently at his claws and finally clearing up the last remains of dirt amidst his paw, a low steady purr passes through Wilbur and somehow Tommy manages to melt even further with the sound. Tommy’s own purr rising in octave and intensity to meet his. Wilbur releases a short huff of air like he’s laughing and Tommy makes note to kick the living shit out of him later.
Finally, he drops the paw from his own and stretches back with a long gaping yawn. A fondness crinkles in his eyes as Tommy beside him can’t help but to yawn too. He licks affectionately at Tommy’s face and the baby scrunches his muzzle and scorns at him. His tongue passes over between his eyes and Tommy obediently shuts them. His adorable little baby. He brings his legs over to curl all the way up to his own head and when Tommy’s entire form fits perfectly snug there, fully surrounded by Wilbur’s own, a loud revving purr rumbles his chest and fills the warm softly sunlit room. Tommy mewls a high pitched sort of squeak and licks at Wilbur’s chin.
Something grand and protective settles then. A loud constant ringing instinct in his mind is put at peace in the moment to hold his brother close. Safe in his arms. He rubs his head into Tommy’s and takes great joy in squishing him beneath the fluff of his chest and hearing the resounding squeaks of protest. He sets his chin down on Tommy’s back and closes his eyes.
Tommy struggles under him and kicks his legs up to hit at him.
Finally, Wilbur lets up a bit of his weight and Tommy’s disgruntled head pokes out under the pit of Wilbur’s arm.
Wilbur lazily rolls his head to meet his eyes and Tommy meets him there with a sharp blue glare. Wilbur just leans over and licks him on the nose, and really, Tommy has no choice but to give up.
Something that could almost resemble a sigh falls from the kitten’s mouth and he starts wriggling once more to pull his head and body out entirely from under warm brown fur. Wilbur lets him, and watches silently as Tommy sits back, finally free, for a moment.
Clearly, his resolve crumbles as Wilbur beckons him softly with sweet constant purrs. Within an instant Tommy’s back snuggled into his side, and Wilbur flips over some more to wrap him up in all his limbs. Reaching lastly with his head and chin to rest around him and the soft happy noises from the younger lull him slowly into a half dazed sleep.
He waits just a few moments until he’s sure Tommy’s comfortable and settled down, before he leaves one last lick to the fur between his shoulders and succumbs to a soft, gentle sleep.
-
When they wake up in the morning the next day, it’s Wilbur who’s first awake to hear the soft pattering of rain outside their house. He hums a long sleepy sound and flexes his fingers to find them snagged in the fabric of the t-shirt on Tommy’s back. He smiles and cranes his neck down bury himself in the curls on top of his head. Still, Tommy’s contently snuggled into his front and Wilbur’s knees are gathered up on the side to where the smaller’s laid comfortably curled in a ball over Wilbur’s chest. He lets go one hand from the other’s back and pushes tentative fingers through the small ringlets that sit over the nape of Tommy’s neck. The blonde hums and snuggles closer.
Suddenly Wilbur feels as though his heart could burst.
There’s such a unique experience to what the two have, their bond as chosen brothers and again as a bonded pair. They live together and are siblings through everything but blood, and as cats they’re as close as it gets. As cats in particular Wilbur finds an even paternal urging within him over Tommy. Like the kitten is his . Like he’s his to care for and look after.
And not that Wilbur would ever admit it, but it’s certainly carried over by now. Tommy in human form isn’t even a little kid! He’s a teenager, just with the unfortunate circumstance of his shifted form being a baby kitten. And while some of the natural protective feelings Wilbur has are just from his love and care for his brother, it’s also embarrassingly from his incessant cat side.
Tommy slowly begins to shift about in his hold and Wilbur rubs a hand up and down his back.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He coos through a sickeningly sweet tone.
Tommy’s eyes slowly fall open and he glances upward towards Wilbur and gives a soft dopey smile. “Hey, Wil.”
Wilbur could squeal, but instead he just shoves his face back into Tommy’s hair, forcing the kid’s head back down.
He groans and swats at him. “Willllll! Get ‘ff.”
Wilbur presses a kiss to Tommy’s scalp before finally pulling back and allowing him free control of his head again.
His face reddens and he pouts turning his body away from Wilbur out towards the rest of the room. “Fuck you.”
Wilbur smiles a little love-stricken and presses a kiss again to Tommy’s head, this time to his crown, and when Tommy squirms and pushes himself up onto his elbow to glare back at him, to his cheek.
Tommy opens his mouth to say something, probably witty, a retort of some sort— but it just stays hung open. He forces it shut with a determination and blows a raspberry at Wilbur before shifting into a cat and quick as possible scampering off the bed.
Wilbur pouts and throws out his hand in a desperate grabby motion. “Nooooo, come backkk. Tommyyyy!”
The kitten who’s now at the door casts a glance over his shoulder, before raising his chin and turning back away, sauntering out into the hall.
“Uugghhhhn,” he throws his head down into the blankets and groans, “Fine, fiiine. I’m gettin’ up you fucker.” He hears a self-satisfied snicker from the other room.
Wilbur can’t help but smile despite himself.