Chapter Text
TW: Swearing, violence, mention of gambling (very loose, could be interpreted as something else), mention of explosion, taking medicine (not much detail).
November 5th, 2038
AM 9:58:07
The bus came to a slow stop next to one of the stations in the neighborhood, the door opening and a blonde android stepping out. Tommy made it to the sidewalk and turned to the left as the bus took off again, walking forward towards his destination.
Turning up a large driveway, he made his way towards the doorway of the old brick mansion. It was surrounded by perfectly manicured bushes and trees, the driveway itself having two small stone pillars lining it at the entry, lanterns on top to light up in the dark.
Tommy stepped up to the doorway, slowing a second as the door opened on its own.
"Alarm deactivated. Welcome home, Tommy."
The front room was dark other than the light streaming in from the windows before the lights automatically turned on. Tommy set the box he carried on the small table pushed against the wall, then stepped forward and knelt next to the bird cage. Opening the cage door and reaching in, he carefully picked up the two robotic birds one by one and turned them on, closing the door again after.
Then, hanging up his coat on the coat rack, checked his tasks again.
TAKE CARE OF WILBUR
WAKE WILBUR UPSTAIRS
Tommy went up the staircase, onto a small landing above the front entry. There were a few different instruments laying against the walls, and music sheets of more hung up like paintings. He stepped through another doorway which led to a small landing above the next room, a large living/dining room area, and turned to the right until he was met with another doorway. It slid open silently, letting him in, and slid shut again after he stepped inside.
The room inside was very dark, he couldn't make much out of the darkness. He walked across the room and opened the curtains with a large 'whoosh', then turned to see Wilbur now awake in his bed.
The man let out a small groan at the sudden light, throwing an arm over his eyes. Tommy smiled. "Good morning, Wilbur."
"Good mornin'." Wil grunted, sitting up in his bed.
"It's ten AM. The weather's partly cloudy, fifty-four degrees, eighty percent humidity, with a strong possibility of afternoon showers."
Wilbur snorted, giving Tommy a small grin. "Sounds like a good day to spend in bed." He said, pushing himself to lean up against the headboard.
Tommy smirked slightly, walking to the mans bedside to pick up his medicine. "I did go to pick up the parts you ordered."
"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten." He paused. "That's the difference between us, huh, Toms? You never forget."
Tommy rolled his eyes. "Give me your hand, Wilbur."
Wil gave a cheeky grin. "No."
"William." Tommy frowned, giving in to the playful banter.
He huffed slightly and did as asked. Tommy counted out the needed amount of meds from the few bottles, helping the man by giving him water to down them. Once finished he started closing the bottles and putting them in their designated spots.
Wilbur sighed. "Just opened my eyes and already needed help functioning. Humans are so fragile. We break down so easily but go through so much effort to keep us going."
Tommy shrugged slightly. "I'd assume to some people it's worth it to see them around longer. Or to them worth it stay longer."
A hand grabbing his shoulder caught his attention, gently tugging him to turning to face Wilbur more. "Hey, what happened to your clothes?" The brunette asked, concern etched in his expression.
"Nothing," Tommy told him, "just some protesters in the street, Wil."
He scowled, letting go. "What a bunch of idiots. They think they can stop progress by roughing up a few androids? I hope they didn't harm you."
Tommy smiled reassuringly. "Nah, can't hurt Big Man Tommy. Just pushed me around a bit. I'm fine." He finished reorganizing the medicine bottles. "Okay, time for you to shower."
He carried the man into the connected bathroom and closed the door behind him, letting him do what he needed to. As Wilbur did that, he remade the bed and grabbed the wheelchair from the other side, pushing it around to the door of the bathroom. Wil gave a two patterned knock on the door, letting Tommy know he was done, and the android came in to help him into the chair.
Wilbur scowled just slightly at the thing. "Hate that I need to use it. Makes me feel useless, can't even walk down the stairs." He stubbornly swat Tommy away from the handles like always, pushing himself out of the room.
Tommy followed. "Well, it isn't the wheelchair's fault you where caught in an explosion."
He rolled his eyes. "No, you're right. I can be petty though."
The android chuckled, helping him onto the latch attached to the wall meant to carry the chair down the staircase. "Yes, you can."
"Anything special on the agenda today?" Wil asked as they went down the staircase.
"Yes, there's the opening of your latest creation at the Modern Art and Music Museum. The director's left you four messages asking to confirm your attendance."
"I haven't decided yet. We'll see about that later."
Tommy nodded. They reached the bottom and he helped Wilbur off the latch there, and the man quickly pushed himself forward again. "What else?"
"Just your usual fanmail. I've already answered."
"Any news from Fundy?"
Tommy paused. "..No, Wil. I could call him, if you'd like?"
Wilbur slowed for a moment. "No. No, don't bother."
They reached the living room, Wilbur wheeling around to the dining table as Tommy stepped to a doorway on the left leading to the kitchen. "I'm starving."
"Well, your breakfast is ready. Bacon and egg just the way you like them."
"Thank you, Toms."
"You're welcome."
Tommy stepped into the kitchen and towards the silver platter sitting on the kitchen island. Quickly gathering up what was left, setting the plate in the middle of the tray and placing the teapot in the corner, he picked up the tray and walked back over to the living room.
Wilbur looked over again when the door slid open, smiling widely at Tommy as he brought over the food and placed it in front of the man. He laid out the utensils and poured the tea into the cup, before taking what was remaining and unneeded and putting it back on the tray to be cleaned up later.
"Thank you, Tommy. Television," Wilbur looked forwards again as the TV in front of the table flickered on, a news channel showing.
As Tommy finished with the breakfast, Wilbur turned his attention to him again. "Why don't you find something to do while I finish my breakfast?"
"Okay, Wilbur." Tommy nodded, walking off to the rest of the living room.
He glanced around, scanning his options. There was the bookshelves; Wilbur had recommended he read Macbeth recently. There was also chess, though it was two-player; he could play against himself but that takes something out of it.
Tommy looked towards the piano sitting in the corner of the room, Wilbur's favorite guitar leaning on the wall next to it. Smiling slightly, he walked over, seating himself on the piano bench and placing his hands on the keys.
Then, he played.
He wasn't sure what song he was playing. Maybe it wasn't one. He closed his eyes, listening to the music, swaying with it as it drifted. It made him...feel something. He wasn't sure what, or if it was possible.
A light strum of a guitar joined him, and he opened his eyes again to see Wilbur had come over and picked up his own instrument, starting to play with him. They shared a smile and continued. They kept it lasting for a few minutes, then Wilbur stopped strumming with him and he slowed his playing down to an ending.
They sat in silence a moment before Wilbur spoke up. "Something's changed in the way you play...sometime's I think you have more humanity than most humans..."
Before Tommy could ask about it, Wil continued. "One day, I won't be here to take care of you. You'll have to protect yourself, make your own choices. Decide who you are, and wanna become...this world doesn't like those who are different, Tom. Don't let anyone tell you who you should be." Then he grinned. "Let's go to the studio."
Tommy opened his mouth to ask what that was about, but Wilbur was already wheeling around. "I won't wait for you, you know!"
Tommy rolled his eyes, standing as well. "You can barely reach a light switch, Wil, you have to wait for me." Walking over to the door that was already opened, Wilbur wheeling through, and following into his music studio in the next room.
It was a large, relatively open space, with two of the three walls being mostly windows, as well as the roof. There were a few shelves with who knows how many binders (Tommy knew, Wil just told him off whenever he specified to sarcastic comments). There were also multiple desks holding blank and filled out sheet paper, different writing tools, and instruments laying here and there waiting to be played again.
Wilbur wheeled over to his corner, a small specific desk area with his current song project laying on the surface waiting. He settled his guitar properly across his lap, laying out the sheet paper better, and began to strum.
Tommy, in the meantime, listened as he tidied a few things around. Scattered note sheets, binders missing or fallen out, placing the newly bought guitar parts in its spot to be opened later. He organized what he could, then stood and gave Wilburs music his full attention until he was needed again.
Wilbur finished what he had, slowly and quietly finishing his strumming, then looked up to Tommy again, gently throwing his bangs back in place with a shake of his head. "So? What's your verdict, Toms?"
Tommy hummed, walking closer. "I wouldn't be the best judge, I- you would be better, but there is...something about it, I can't really...define...I guess I like it." He finished.
Wilbur grinned at that, though Tommy wasn't sure why. "A fair response. I don't have much to say anymore, I've written so much there's little more I can write without repeating something." He paused, then held the guitar out to Tommy. "Why don't you try? Let's see if you got any talent with a guitar, go on."
Tommy's eyes widened. "Guitar? But, what I...playing what?"
Wilbur shrugged, shoving the instrument into his hands and pulling away again. "Whatever you want. Anything you want. Just play, like you did with the piano earlier."
Tommy paused a moment longer before pulling one of the nearby chairs over and sitting down, gingerly holding the instrument in his hands. He glanced around for something to play, not sure what to do, and his eyes landed on some of Wilburs older sheet music from years ago.
He remembered what it was, so he placed his fingers on the right chords and started to strum.
When he finished the song, he looked back at Wilbur, who was staring at him with a thoughtful look. "That's a perfect copy, of reality. Of the past. But creating isn't about replicating the world, it's about interpreting it, improving it, showing something you see."
Tommy could've sworn he felt nervous. "Wilby, I don't...think I can do that...it's not in my program...I..."
Wilbur smiled softly, leaning forwards again. "You can. Like with the piano, don't think about it. Just do it."
Tommy looked back down, closing his eyes. He thought about...humanity. Wilbur mentioned it earlier after they'd played together. It was witnessed on the TV. He saw it in the protesters that morning. He started to strum, fingers moving across the frets quickly, strumming loudly. And he thought about hope, the way Wilbur would treat him and how it differed from other people he's seen and met. His song became slower, calmer. Less chords, quieter strums, softer notes.
He slowed to a finish, pausing a moment before opening his eyes and looking at Wilbur, who was staring back with an open smile. "Oh my god..."
Before he could continue, the door opened, and both of them turned to see Fundy walking in, looking skittish. "Hey, dad."
Wilbur looked surprised, wheeling forwards as Tommy stood and set the guitar safely against the desk. "Fundy, I didn't hear you come in."
"Ah, I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by...it's been a while, right?"
Wilbur narrowed his eyes at him. "You alright? You don't look so good."
Fundy nodded, not meeting either of their gazes. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm fine...hey, listen, uh...I need some cash, dad."
"Again?" Wilbur frowned. "What happened to the money I just gave you?"
"Uh well, it just goes, you know?"
Wil nodded, lowering his gaze slightly. "Yeah...you're at it again, aren't you?"
Fundy quickly shook his head. "No, no, no, I swear it's not that..."
Wilbur frowned further, wheeling forward again. "Don't lie to me, Fundy."
"What difference does it make?!" Fundy shouted, tense and angry suddenly. "I just need some cash, that's all!"
Wil paused, thinking. He glanced at Tommy, who looked back, not saying anything. "Sorry, the answer's no."
"What?" Fundy looked confused and offended, almost. "Why?"
"You know why."
He scoffed, turning to Tommy. "Yeah, yeah...I think I do know why." He stepped slowly towards the android. "You'd rather take care of your plastic toy here than your own son, eh? Tell me, dad," He spat the word like venom, "What's it got that I don't? It's smarter? More obedient?" He jabbed his finger into Tommy's chest with each sentence. "Not like me, right? But you know what? This thing is not your son. It's a fucking MACHINE!" Fundy shouted, shoving Tommy by the shoulders backwards. He stumbled, catching himself on the desk and grabbing the guitar before it could fall and break.
"Fundy, that's enough!" Wilbur yelled, coming forward and grabbing his arm. "Enough!"
Fundy ripped his arm from Wil's hold, stalking back to the door. "You don't care about anything except yourself and your goddamn music. You've never loved anyone. You've never loved me, dad...you never loved me." He said, stomping back out the room and away from them.
Wilbur sighed, bowing his head and burying his face in his hands. Tommy looked between Wil and the door Fundy disappeared through, confused at the sensation the interaction left in his chest.