Chapter 6
<3-***-****> hey
<Tommy> I think you have the wrong number, man
<3-***-****> nah, I don’t
<3-***-****> it’s Wilbur
<Tommy> ?????
<Tommy> how did you get my number
<Tommy> did tubbo give it to you
<Wilbur> no, I stole it from ranboo
<Wilbur> technically he gave it willingly, I just had to bribe him
<Tommy> yeah. of course you did.
<Wilbur> are you at work right now
<Tommy> yeah
<Wilbur> well yeah I figured
<Wilbur> there’s a new restaurant that opened last week
<Wilbur> you should come with me
<Tommy> lmao why
<Wilbur> because I haven’t been there yet and I don’t want to go alone
<Tommy> u fuckin pussy
<Tommy> when
<Wilbur> whenever you want
<Tommy> well my brother’s not home to cook today so I guess today would be ok
<Wilbur> :D
<Tommy> ur paying though right
<Wilbur> yeah, ofc
<Tommy> good
<Tommy> u also have to come get me from work bc I don’t know where this restaurant is
<Wilbur> oh you’re so much work
<Wilbur> you’re uninvited
<Tommy> nuh uh you’ve promised me free food, I am now a leech you cannot get rid of me
<Wilbur> fuck
Tommy had clocked out and changed, and was heading out the door. There was a figure leaning against the wall outside the door, and when they moved suddenly, he jumped. His senses hadn’t gone off, so he didn’t feel like he was in danger, but it also still caught him off-guard.
“Jesus Christ, man.” Tommy let out a breath. “Warn me next time.”
“Sorry.” Wilbur laughed sheepishly.
“You look like a fucking stalker.” Tommy accused.
“Hey, I was just waiting for you.”
“Yeah, you’re right. No one dressed like that would be brave enough to stalk someone.” Tommy snarked, giving him a look.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wilbur snorted. “I dress fine.”
“You dress like you live in the basement.” Tommy told him.
“I do not! I live many stories above the ground, actually.” The other sniffed.
“Yeah, sure you do.” Tommy smirked. “Where are we going, bird boy?”
“Bird boy?” Wilbur scoffed. “Yeah, okay. This way, gremlin child.”
“Woah! That’s too damn far!” Tommy gasped in offense, following as he began walking down the street.
“I’m going to buy you chicken nuggets from the kid’s meals.” Wilbur smirked.
“I will bite you.” Tommy threatened.
The restaurant was quite nice. It was soup-centered, which Tommy thought was an interesting choice, but it was fairly busy, and it took a hot minute for them to get an empty table. A very nice person came around eventually to take their order. Tommy got potato soup, and Wilbur ordered French onion soup.
“French onion soup? Really?” Tommy snorted once they were gone.
“What do you mean, ‘really’? That was a perfectly fine choice.” Wilbur told him.
Tommy wrinkled his nose. “It’s pretentious.”
“It’s better than getting potato soup. You could go to Subway and get potato soup. You came to a soup restaurant, and ordered a Subway soup.”
“Hey, I’ve never been here before, I don’t know what’s good and what’s not. But you can’t go wrong with potato soup.” Tommy told him.
Wilbur shuddered. “You sound like one of my coworkers.”
“Smart person.” Tommy smirked. He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. “So… You got a Spotify account?”
“Yes?” Wilbur said questioningly, raising an eyebrow.
“What’s it called?” He asked.
“Yeah, no, I’m not telling you that.”
“I already tried Wilbur Soot, nothing came up.”
“Good.” Wilbur smirked.
“What is it?”
“Why?”
Tommy wrinkled his nose in contempt. “Because I want to find your songs.”
“You don’t even know if I’ve released anything.” Wilbur laughed.
“I say you’ve released something. All of the things.”
“I’m not telling you my account name.” Wilbur shook his head, amused.
“Fine.” Tommy sniffed. “I’ll find it myself.”
He took out his phone and searched ‘Indie’ on Spotify. He turned up his volume a little, just so Wilbur could hear it, and started clicking random songs.
“This you?”
“No.”
“This?”
“No…”
“What about this one?”
“That’s a woman.”
“This one?”
“Nope.”
“This one sounds like you.”
“That’s a whole different language.”
“Okay, what about this one?”
“Not even close.”
“This one.”
“Tommy, that’s not even indie. That’s a metal song.”
“Close enough.”
“What? No-”
When they were done, Tommy followed Wilbur outside. “You picked a really convenient time to invite me.” He commented.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. My brother’s at work, so he couldn’t cook. And my gymnastics practice was this morning, so I had time. Any other day probably wouldn’t have worked.”
“This morning? Like, before school?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow.
“Yep.” Tommy nodded.
“Wow. I just would not get up to go.”
Tommy laughed. “Yeah, I’m just glad it doesn’t happen often. Just when my coach can’t be there in the afternoon.”
“I’m going to walk you home.” Wilbur told him. “What type do you like best?”
“What? No, you don’t have to.” He was perfectly capable of getting home himself, thank you.
“Nope. You’re a minor, it’s late. I’m going to make sure you don’t get robbed or kidnapped. I don’t want your brother coming to kick my ass because you died.”
“It’s only kind of late. I’ve made my way home safely every night for a long time.” Tommy challenged. Wilbur just looked at him, his resolve unwavering, until Tommy gave in and sighed, turning and walking. “Fine, whatever. I like the uneven bars the best. The floor a close second.”
“That’s cool. It takes a lot of muscle to do that kind of shit.” Wilbur said, walking next to him.
“I am so jacked from it.” Tommy grinned, pulling back one of his jacket sleeves and flexing.
“Wow.” Wilbur said, amused.
“It’s great. So many women talk to me, all the time. They go, ‘Woah, muscles!’ and I go, ‘Yes.’”
Wilbur laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure they do.”
Tommy scoffed. “You don’t believe me?”
“That’s not what I said.” Wilbur said, his brows raised.
“Yeah, whatever. You’ll see. You’re going to get women trying to date you, just so they can get close to me.”
“Mhm, okay.”
They walked down to the subway, and stepped onto the next one that came. “Do you use this every single day?” Wilbur asked.
“Yup. You don’t?”
“No.”
“You drive your car everywhere, then?”
“Yup.”
“Okay, rich boy.” Tommy snorted.
Wilbur rolled his eyes. “I’m not rich. Just my employer.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Wilbur narrowed his eyes, asking, “What?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
“Tell me. I don’t trust whatever that look was.”
Tommy paused. “Well, I was going to make a joke about a sugar daddy, but I thought better of it.”
Wilbur’s eyebrows raised in shock, and he burst out laughing. “You- What? No, I don’t have a fucking sugar daddy, what the shit?”
“Look, that was your fault, I wasn’t going to say anything.” Tommy told him. Wilbur didn’t respond over his laughter.
Sometime during the ride, Tommy’s senses started going off. He turned to see a creepy-looking person, trying to pickpocket him in the crowd of the train. “Hey, man, keep your hands to yourself, why don’t you?” He said, scowling. The person startled, then glared at him and backed away.
“What was that?” Wilbur asked, looking in concern.
“Some bastard trying to steal my identity again.” Tommy told him.
“Ah. That’s… Fun.”
“The looks on their faces when I catch them are great.” Tommy smirked.
Wilbur laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I saw.”
They emerged back above ground soon. Tommy let Wilbur follow him to his street, then said he was going to split off.
“Alright. Thanks for coming with me.” Wilbur smiled.
“Yeah, no problem, man. Couldn’t let you face your phobia of soup restaurants by yourself, could I?” Tommy joked.
Wilbur’s face twisted into a mock scowl. “You know what, it’s never happening again. I’m never inviting you anywhere, ever. The disrespect…”
Tommy laughed at him. “Yeah, okay. Deal with your fear alone, that’s okay with me.”
“The only fear I have is of snotty little gremlin children.” Wilbur retorted, smiling. “I’ll see you, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Tommy stuck his fist out. Wilbur bumped it, but reached out to ruffle his hair with a smirk at the same time. Tommy screeched an unholy noise, shoving him off. He just laughed, and walked in the other direction, leaving him to get to his apartment.
Less than an hour later, after he’d finished his homework, he changed into his suit and headed out for the rest of the night. He’d just caught the fourth pick pocketer that night and returned the wallet they’d stolen when his alert app went off. Aggressive roommate on the roof, might get messy. He grinned, swinging to the roof in question.
Hawkeye crouched on the edge of the roof, waiting for him. “Man, I’m starting to think there wasn’t any aggressive roommates to start out with.” He joked, landing next to him and sticking it perfectly on the narrow ledge.
“Oh, really?” Hawkeye smirked. “What ever could have given you that thought?”
“I know, right?” Tommy grinned, crouching down as well.
“Here, I have a present to make up for it.” Hawkeye told him, pulling out a black case from nowhere.
“Is it drugs?” Tommy joked.
“Nah, that’s illegal.” Hawkeye smirked.
“Because it’s illegal? Not because it’s immoral?”
“It’s not really immoral.” Hawkeye told him.
Tommy stifled a laugh. “Exactly.” He balanced the case on his thighs, clicking the buckles open. And in it sat the suit that Stark had given him, all there.
“That thing’s expensive. Don’t go around throwing it into any incinerators.” Hawkeye said.
“I won’t.” Tommy smirked. He was happy to have it back, and without any sort of snoopy coding. Probably. He’d still be scanning it later.
“Stark wants you to know that he means it. To come to us if you need help.” Hawkeye told him. “If we find out you’ve died one day because you didn’t come to us, I will be dancing on your grave.”
Tommy stifled another laugh. “Alright, that’s fair.” He said.
“Yeah. Be careful. I’m serious about the not dying thing.”
“I haven’t died yet.” Tommy smirked. “Thanks. Tell Mr. Stark that I’m not going to file any restraining orders anymore.” He said, shooting a web.
“Sure, kid. No problem.” Hawkeye grinned as he swung away, case in hand.
Don Whitman’s personal phone rang. Not a lot of people called him; He ignored everyone who wasn’t a contact. The only people he added to his contacts were his daughter and his customers. His daughter would have texted him if she needed something. And since there were few customers he deemed important enough to give his personal number to, he knew who it was before he even picked up the phone.
“Hello, this is Don Whitman. What can I do for you this evening, Mr. Stark?”
“Evening, Mr. Whitman. I have another colleague who needs to get fitted for a suit.”
“That can certainly be arranged.”
“He’s a bit more… Intimidating, and well-known, than the others.”
“We can adjust for that.”
“I want to send in Barnes.”
“The Winter Soldier fellow?”
“Yes. I need it to be as quiet as possible. None of your employees can tell anyone he’s there. And it would be preferable if the person who took his measurements wasn’t too timid.”
“We can do that.”
“Good. What time can he come in?”
“Between four and six, as well. What day do you want?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”