DSMP/OSMP/MCYT One Shots

Repose |wilbur&phil|

Just some cute domestic platonic fluff because we're all sad fucks :)

Wilbur was anxious.

He didn't know why. Everything just felt messy no matter how organized it was. Wilbur had tried to clean things, even putting most of it away in drawers so he wouldn't have to see so much stuff. Nothing worked though.

Maybe it was just the stress of school. He had about 3 missing assignments he still had to do and a project due the next Monday. It was stressful. Wilbur wishes he could ask for help with something, but he didn't need help. He just needed to do his work and stop being anxious. Just like everyone else in his class who was doing just fine in school.

Not everyone in his class was a hybrid though, Wilbur's brain reminded him. It was one of the many differences between Wilbur and others. He grimaced, the list of differences seemed to grow with each passing day.

Wilbur picked up his mug from beside his laptop (wilbur knew he should not put it there) and frowned when his coffee had gone cold. Had he been doing homework for that long? Wilbur swore it could have been only 15 minutes ago he had gotten it.

The clock on his wall proved him wrong. It had been another 4 and a half hours. Wilbur had only handed in one small assignment in 4 hours. It was so pathetic. So disappointing.
Wilbur decided he needed more coffee. Maybe a small break too, just a repose. Perhaps he needed to look away from paper and a computer screen too but that wasn't his main concern. Wilbur walked down the stairs and gently stressed his golden brown wings. His back was sore, Wilbur acknowledged.

When Wilbur got to the kitchen, he realized he had no idea where Phil put the coffee maker. Normally Phil made enough for everyone in the morning, and Wilbur realized in the 8 months of living there he had never asked where it was put.

Everything had to go wrong didn't it.
Wilbur really didn't want to cry right now. Phil was in the living room and if Wilbur started sobbing, the older would definitely hear. To add to this, it was a stupid reason to cry in Wilbur's mind. He had been through much worse than a little stress and not cried over it.
"Wil, are you okay?" Wilbur turned around to see Phil.

The brunet nodded at the older avian, he didn't trust his voice not to crack. Phil motioned him to come closer and so Wilbur did. Phil wrapped his arms around his adopted son and walked to the living room. He sat Wilbur on the couch beside him and looked him in the eyes.

"Whats wrong?" Phil asked. He kept a hand on Wilbur's shoulder.

"Just a bit stressed nothing much." Wilbur mumbled.

Phil could tell it was a lot more than "a bit" but decided not to press more on the subject. Instead he turned his focus to the younger's wings. Which, in the nicest way possible, looked like shit. The feathers were not very well taken care of.

"Mate, when was the last time you preened your wings?" Phil asked gently.

Wilbur tensed and shrugged. He had forgotten he needed too and he hasn't one it in maybe a month or two now. Whats worse is that Wilbur never did it regularly enough, and in all honestly Wilbur was probably doing it wrong.

The brunet was self taught, only knowing they needed preening when Phil made a comment on it a week after he was adopted. Youtube tutorials aren't the best either.

"Do you want to do it, or do you want me too?" Phil asked. Preening was only for those you trust, he didn't want to push Wilbur too far and too soon.

"You can." Wilbur replied quietly.

The two sat on the carpeted floor and Wilbur hugged his knees to his chest. Phil sat behind him and tapped Wilburs wing to tell him to expand it. The younger stretched it to and Phil got to work, straighten the feathers and getting rid of broken ones.