Chapter Text
And so Wilbur tries to smile at the kindergarten teacher in his overcoat and with his military badges on his left lapel, but it's slightly wavering as he watches Fundy run on all fours through the windows.
"So, you're a single father, correct?" The lady asks.
"Uh, yes ma'am." He says and watches as she writes something down on her clipboard.
He hears Fundy's high-pitched chitter and spares his son another glance. Fundy is making grabby hands at a toy another child is holding. Maybe he's making friends?
Wilbur isn't sure.
"You served?"
"Uh, yes ma'am." He pauses for a second. "I was actually a general."
The lady looks up at him with an unreadable expression.
"You're that Wilbur Soot?"
Wilbur ducks his head. "Yes, ma'am."
She turns the page on her clipboard. "Well, that explains the criminal history," she mutters, scribbling several notes down.
"I'm fully reformed," Wilbur says, unsure of what else to say or do.
"Sure," She says condescendingly. "And it says here that you are the current legal guardian to three other L'manburg soldiers, is that correct?"
Wilbur nods.
"Well, I think that-"
The lady gets cut off by a shrill wail of a toddler. They both turn to look through the window and the sight that awaits them has them both leaping up from their chairs.
Fundy stands on all fours, snarling, muzzle covered in blood, his cap on the ground beneath him.
A child wailing, clutching at an arm as a teacher huddles over them.
Wilbur rushes over to Fundy, picking up his son and his son's hat. Fundy whimpers into Wilburs shoulder, entire body trembling in Wilbur's hold.
"Hey, it's okay, Fundy, it's okay." Wilbur shushes Fundy, petting his son's head in an attempt to make his son calm down a little.
"What the fuck has your child done?" The interviewer screeches at him. "How could your child do that?"
"He doesn't know," Wilbur says. "He's just a baby!"
"He hurt a child!"
Wilbur has no rebuttal to that.
"I can't believe you would allow it to be around children."
It. The word rings around his head. It, it, it - they all see him as an animal.
Wilbur clutches Fundy close to his chest. "He doesn't know any better," Wilbur says lamely.
"That doesn't mean you can just allow it to run amok!" Her face has turned red by this point. "Get out! You are banned from this establishment and I will be warning all other schools about your child!"
Wilbur shrinks back, arms curling over Fundy's back and shielding his son's eyes.
"Go! I will call the police!"
That's enough for Wilbur to turn and flee.
His feet pound on the pavement, and for a moment he isn't on a street, he's in a forest, leading a battalion while the gunshots ring loud-
And his son sniffles and Wilbur is back in present day, which is only a little less bloody than the war.
Wilbur pauses in front of their car and takes a moment to look over his son.
Fundy's white maw is red with blood and Wilbur can even see some of it trail off into Fundy's russet coat.
Fundy squirms in his grip, uncomfortable with being still for so long.
"Yeah, I'll put you down in a second Fundy." Wilbur fumbles for the keys in his pockets, and the jingling draws Fundy's attention. He tries to swipe at them when Wilbur pulls them out and Wilbur waggles the keys tauntingly in front of Fundy. He laughs when Fundy yips at him after moving the keys away, and as he unlocks the door and buckles his son into the car seat, he thinks that his day might be saved yet.
His phone rings in his pocket and he fishes it out, still bent over his son and attempting to buckle him in properly.
He listens to the person on the other line speak for a moment before he shrieks out "Jack did WHAT ?"
Fundy whines softly, earning a quick glance from Wilbur and a scritch under his chin with a free shaky hand.
Wilbur balances the phone on his shoulder as he fumbles with the buckle. "No, I understand why- mhm, mhm. Yes, yes, absolutely unacceptable, I can't- Yes of course I'll head right over." He closes the passenger door with a slight slam and makes his way to the driver's side door. "Would you mind sending him out to the parking lot so I can speak to him in private? Yes, you can, oh thank you so much. Yes- yep- yes- alright see you soon." Wilbur tosses his phone into the front seat next to him, slams his door shut, buckles himself in, places two hands on the wheel, and then hits the car's horn with his forehead. The car honks a bit belatedly and Wilbur hits his forehead three more times.
He glances back at his son, who currently was licking blood off of his maw and clutching a stuffed shark that once was Tommy's to his chest.
"Oh, buddy," Wilbur whispers, and Fundy looks at him with inquisitive eyes. "What the fuck are we gonna do?"
Fundy stares at him, and then drops his attention to the shark in his paw, squishing its fin.
Wilbur closes his eyes and feels tears track down his face.
"Fuck," he mumbles and wipes his eyes with a sniff.
The car starts with a splutter that he does his best to ignore and he sets off, checking his rearview mirror every once in a while to see Fundy and at red lights turning to his son and pretending to try to grab Fundy's shark. This earns him a happy squeal and Wilbur turns back to the road with a smile on his face.
Fundy's eyes slowly shutter closed, Fundy blinking heavily every once in a while to try to stay awake, rubbing a paw into his eyes. "You falling asleep back there, buddy?" Wilbur asks and Fundy looks blearily at him. "It's okay, go right ahead." He says softly, and Fundy yawns, revealing sharp, slightly bloody teeth, and then turns a little to cuddle into the side of his car seat.
They take a good half hour to get to Jack's school.
Fundy sleeps the whole time, once barking in his sleep, little legs kicking. Wilbur checks his rearview mirror and sees his son content and peaceful and something catches and burns in his throat.
When he pulls into the parking lot, he takes a moment to wipe at his eyes. Jack can't know.
He just can't.
Wilbur has to be strong for them. Has to be for all of them.
Fuck, he needs a smoke. He cracks the windows in the car and leaves it running with the AC on, before grabbing the tattered and faded carton from the glove compartment and a lighter.
He leans against the car door, taking a quick puff and letting the smoke drift away from him in the wind. The wind ruffling his hair feels nice and he closes his eyes and tips his head back.
And it's raining and there's a battlefield and-
A door closes nearby and Wilbur cracks an eye open to see a gangly teen step out of the building.
"OI!" Wilbur cups a hand around his mouth. "Jack, c'mere."
Jack's head jerks up at the yell and Wilbur watches as he shoves his hand into his pockets and stalks over.
Jack's uniform is crumpled and as Jack approaches, Wilbur can see a scratch above his eyebrow, and a large bruise blooms on Jack's right cheek.
Jack stops just short of Wilbur, avoiding eye contact and pretending that he isn't by waving at the sleeping baby in the car.
"Did'ya get them good?"
Jack straightens up and nods. "Yessir."
"Good." A small pause and then "You have your glasses?"
"Yeah, I put em in me pocket before I swung."
Wilbur nods, before offering Jack the cigarette. "You want a smoke?"
Something flashes in the back of his mind, something about the fact that teens shouldn't smoke and something else about them sharing a smoke when rations were low.
Jack takes it gratefully and puffs a few times before coughing and handing it back.
"Care to enlighten me on why you fought a kid?"
Jack looks away and kicks at the ground. "'e called Tubbo a name."
"And?" Wilbur supplied.
"And what? I told you what happened?"
"What, that's it? You jeopardize your future because some kid said a mean name about Tubbo?" Jack doesn't deserve this anger, Wilbur knows this. But at the same time, how could Jack be so fucking stupid?
"What do you mean that's it? Of course, I'm gonna defend Tubbo!" Jack fires back.
"That's not what I'm saying, I'm saying don't punch a kid over it!"
They lapse into angry silence before - "They gonna have a meeting inside?"
Jack nods. "Yeah, the other kid's parents are there."
It stings a little.
Wilbur sighs. "You gotta carry Fundy."
He yanks the door open. When he pulls Fundy out, covering Fundy's head with a protective hand, Jack gasped.
"Wha-"
"He's fine." Wilbur's voice is ice cold and cuts through the air like a knife. "We won't discuss it further now."
Jack knows better than to ask, so he swallows the questions that linger on his tongue and moves to take Fundy from Wilbur. Wilbur hands Fundy over, and the movement reveals a bloodstain on Wilbur's white shirt in the shape of Fundy's muzzle, and Jack wonders, not for the first time, if Fundy bit his father.
Fundy whines, high-pitched and concerned, and wriggles a bit in Jack's arms until he spots Wilbur and settles a little into the crook of Jack's arm.
"I'll try to clean him up a little," Jack says softly.
Wilbur grunts out a soft "thanks" in response and runs a hand over his coat, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. He sighs and begins to head in, Jack falling into step behind him.
When they get in, Jack navigates quickly to the principal's office, head still ringing with anger and frustration.
Why can't Wilbur just fucking understand, why can't he understand that of course, Jack has to do something when someone calls Tubbo a name, even if Tubbo isn't there to hear it? Why can't Wilbur just understand?
They arrive at the office far too quickly for Jack's liking, and when Wilbur raises a fist to knock at the door, Jack feels his stomach turn.
Wilbur takes a seat next to the other parents. He can feel the weight of everyone's eyes on him and Jack, feels how their eyes linger on his military badges.
He hears the soft gasp as Jack shifts Fundy in his arms and-
"You can't ha-"
"He's my son," Wilbur says, cutting off the sentence before they can label Fundy as anything other than a baby.
There's a moment where he can see the principal grapple with accepting it, but it's quickly smoothed over when one of the other kid's parents clears their throat.
Wilbur glances over to see the kid looking at the floor, shoulders only moving with each sharp breath and when the kid's father places a hand on the kid's shoulder, the kid looks up enough for Wilbur to see a small smile.
The kid had tried to upset Jack on purpose, the little shit.
Wilbur files this information away behind the more pressing matter of keeping Jack out of trouble.
"Well, you all know why we are here obviously," the principal starts and then pauses and shifts his eyes over to Wilbur. "Jack has indeed informed you on what happened, correct?"
Wilbur gives a curt nod. Jack nods next to Wilbur, and his chair squeaks as Jack leans forward and grabs a tissue to start wiping at Fundy's face.
"So now, we need to decide upon the best course of action to take-"
"Expulsion," The father cuts in. "Expulsion is only right."
"I don't know if expulsion is necessary," Wilbur says. "This is his first offense. Jack is reformed, just like any other L'Manburg citizen."
Jack's been muttering under his breath the whole time, and the silence after Wilbur's statement is broken by Jack saying "-you bite someone, yeah? hope you got 'em good."
Wilbur clears his throat loudly, and Jack shoots him a sideways glance.
"Jack is in the process of being reformed," Wilbur amends.
The mother leans forward. "Look, everyone knows who Jack is, what he's done. Keeping him in school is a danger to all."
Wilbur opens his mouth to protest, but the principal speaks up first. "I agree."
"Well, I don't know if that's fair to judge Jack by a bad day," Wilbur says, and suddenly feels very aware of the blood sticking onto his shirt.
"A bad day? He sucker-punched my son!" The father cries.
"We could have him jailed, you know," The mother says smugly and Wilbur's eyes narrow as his blood boils red-hot.
"Jack Manifold is here as a gesture of goodwill, faith, and loyalty to the DreamSMP alliance from the L'Manburg government. He has a right to a normal life, just like any other citizen, as was promised by your government." Wilbur hisses out.
The principal inhales as if he is about to speak but Wilbur continues on without a second thought.
"And part of that normal life is getting a good education. And your school was gracious enough to let my wards stay here in exchange for a donation for your school's budget." Wilbur exhales heavily. "You expel Jack, and there will be a hell of an upset."
The principal pales, and Jack sits up straighter next to Wilbur.
"Well, obviously I won't expel Jack, that would be bad." The principal clasps his hands together. "However, he will be suspended for the rest of the year. You understand that we can't take any risks, right?"
Wilbur nods.
"And to appease our promises to L'Manburg, he will still be allowed to graduate and walk the stage."
Wilbur smiles. "Thanks so much for your cooperation, we all done here?"
Without waiting for an answer, Wilbur stands up, turns for the door, and grabs Jack's forearm in an iron grip. Jack lets himself be pulled along.
Wilbur's feet boom on the floor.
"Wilbur, what-"
"Just keep walking." Is the reply from gritted teeth. Wilbur pushes the metal side door to the parking lot. The sun is near blinding. "No weakness in front of those fucks."
Jack can see where Fundy gets some of his instincts from.
Jack is still thinking about it as Wilbur pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store.
They both close their doors a little too hard.
Jack goes to grab Fundy, only to recoil with a yelp as Fundy snaps at him.
Wilbur lets out a small snort behind him. "You mind grabbing the babybjörn from the trunk? And maybe a sweater? I don't think walking into the store with a bloody shirt would be too great."
Jack grabs the stuff from the trunk, tossing the sweater to Wilbur, who shucks off his bloody shirt and tosses it into the backseat.
Fundy tries to grab for it, little paws extending and claws unsheathing. A bit of drool drips down from Fundy's mouth and Jack shudders.
Wilbur snatches the babybjörn from Jack and puts it on, before gently unbuckling Fundy and placing him in the carrier.
Fundy rests his head forward and Wilbur gently smooths over Fundy's ears.
"Jack, you have your allowance. Feel free to explore the store. If-"
"I know, I know. If someone gives me shit, find you or hide out in the car."
Wilbur nodded and tosses Jack the keys, who fumbles them for a second.
Wilbur grabs a cart. The wheels are squeaky and he can feel everyone's eyes on him. Fundy squishes down his ears with his paws, swiping over his eyes as well before licking his paws.
"I know, Fundy, it's a little loud in here, but we'll be done soon, I promise."
There's no real recognition in his son's eyes, but he seems to settle down at least a little. Still, Wilbur keeps going, more to comfort himself than his son.
"We'll get you your Pedialyte and we'll get you some meat, maybe even some berries, huh? You want berries?"
Fundy yips up at him, and Wilbur feels warmth bloom in his chest.
The rest of the grocery shopping goes rather quickly, and they meet Jack in the car.
They unload the groceries together, Fundy scampering underfoot as they do, nearly tripping them both several times. After everything gets put away, Wilbur gives chase to Fundy.
Nails scrape on the floor, Fundy scrabbling for purchase on the hardwood as Wilbur goes after him. Fundy leaps onto the couch, before hiding behind a pillow.
Wilbur grabbed the pillow away and Fundy screeches, before turning in a small circle and flopping onto his back. Wilbur waggled his fingers over Fundy's stomach, who bats at Wilburs hands, before turning onto his side and panting, tongue sticking out.
"That's enough play? Okay, let's chill then."
As they go to make dinner, Wilbur grabs a heated blanket and places it next to Fundy, who wakes up enough to start pulling and nudging at the blanket to make it a small nest for him to lay in.
Tommy and Tubbo come home when dinner is just about done. Fundy greets them both with a yip and a tail wag before curling back up.
"Why's he so tired?" Tommy asks.
"Bit of a long day," Wilbur says, serving the food on plates.
Tubbo looks over from picking up Fundy. "Did you get rejected from that preschool?"
Wilbur nods solemnly, heating up the blended mixture of Pedialyte and cooked meat. "And Jack also got suspended."
"Why?" Tubbo and Tommy both ask.
"I punched a kid," Jack mumbles, pushing at the food on his plate.
"Good job," Tubbo remarks, shoveling food into his mouth.
"Why would you do that? I thought you were a stupid pacifist." Tommy remarks, side-eyeing Fundy when he smacks his highchair with his paws.
Jack opens his mouth but Wilbur spoke up quicker.
"It's not important. We won't discuss it further."
"Buzzkill," Tommy mumbles, crossing his arms.
The rest of the dinner goes by in silence and stilted small talk, Wilbur finishing his food quickly to feed Fundy from the bottle.
Afterwards, when Tommy and Tubbo are watching TV in the dark living room with a sleeping Fundy wedged between them, Jack and Wilbur do the dishes together.
"You're gonna have to get a job now, y'know," Wilbur says quietly, scrubbing at a plate.
Jack looks up from drying a cup. "What?" He exclaims a bit too loudly.
Wilbur pauses, looks over his shoulder into the living room, but Tubbo and Tommy don't seem to be paying attention. "You know how the government gives me money to help pay for all of our necessities?"
"The subsidy thing?"
"Yeah, that's gonna decrease because you're graduating." Wilbur locks eyes with Jack then, placing his hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'm sorry about this, Jack."
"Okay," Jack whispers. His vision is blurring a little, the light from the window wavering under Wilbur's heavy gaze. "I get it. Can I- can I go sit with-?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course," Wilbur says, removing his arm. "I can take care of the rest, don't worry."
Jack goes into the living room, and plops down onto the couch, to Tommy's protest.
"Move over, bitch boy!" Tommy says, ramming an elbow into Jack's ribs.
"Oh fuck off," Jack mumbles but he moves over a little.
The rest of the week passes by without much incident.
On the day of Jack's graduation, they all dress up in their uniforms, even little Fundy with his pastel-off colors.
They file into the school's auditorium, Fundy peering over the edge of Wilbur's sling carrier with bright eyes, observing everyone with interest.
Wilbur can hear the whispers, can feel the stares on his back and ignores them all. They find their seats and sit down, Wilbur letting Fundy out of the sling so that Fundy can look as much as he wants.
Upon seeing the L'Manberg flag on the stage, Wilbur's chest warmed, like he had just taken a huge sip of hot rations.
Kids went and walked across the stage, and they all clapped for each one.
"Jack Manifold."
Jack walks across the stage, fully in his uniform with his badges, smiling brightly.
The auditorium was quiet before a few boos broke out.
Wilbur sees Jack's smile shrink.
Wilbur nudges Tommy and Tubbo before clapping loudly and standing up. "Woo! Good job Jack!" Wilbur shouts.
"Hell yeah Jack!" Tubbo shrieks.
Tommy cups his hand over his mouth letting out a loud "woo!"
Fundy even lets out his own howl.
Jack walks proudly back to his seat after receiving his diploma, ears pink with pride. Tubbo and Tommy sit down after Jack does, but Wilbur remains standing and clapping for a few more seconds before sitting back down.
They head out after taking a photo together, clambering into the car.
When they get home, the smell of delicious food wafts through the hallway.
"Ooo, what's that smell?" Jack asks, sniffing the air.
"Just a small surprise," Wilbur replies. "Wanted to celebrate a little."
And what greets the family is authentic L'Manberg food; baked bean bread, carrots, and chicken.
"How'd you get this stuff?" Jack asks incredulously.
"Called a favor in," Wilbur says. "Dig in."
He doesn't have to say much more for them to attack their food.
After dinner is done, Tommy and Tubbo offer to do the dishes, Jack watching a movie on the couch. Wilbur quickly changes and then heads off to the doctor's appointment with Fundy.
The doctor that treats Fundy is a veterinarian.
It's a bit extremely fucked up having to go there, sitting in a waiting room with cats and dogs and all other kinds of animals, while his one-year-old squirms in his arms until he gets to run around on all fours.
More than once he's been told to leash his dog.
And he's thanked Prime several times over that Fundy can't understand what people are saying yet.
He doesn't go in the daytime anymore.
"Has he started speaking yet?" The doctor asks, resting his hands on his knees.
Wilbur shakes his head.
They sit in silence for a few moments, watching Fundy play with a chew toy. The rubber squeaks under Fundy's teeth.
"He's making those fox noises I've been telling you about a lot more," Wilbur says.
The clock ticks.
"Yeah?" An invitation to say more.
"Yeah." He wets his lips. "He's been doing it after I, like, talk to him excitedly."
"Go on."
A deep, shaky intake of breath. "I don't know, I-i thought that it might," a voice crack. "It might be him, like..." His throat feels like it's closing up, his words caught as a lump forms in his throat. His eyes are watery and he blinks quickly, trying to get them to dry.
His hands are trembling too and he clasps them together in mock prayer.
"You thought it might be like him trying to communicate?" The doctor offers.
Wilbur nods.
The ground is blurring below him, the speckled floor merging into a gray-beige solid. Tears run hot down his face and onto the floor.
The doctor lets Wilbur cry in silence.
Fundy does not.
Wilbur sees a large orange splotch move from his peripheral to in between his feet.
Fundy lets out a low whine and paws at Wilbur's leg. When Wilbur doesn't do anything, Fundy whines louder and Wilbur can feel the edge of Fundy's claws on his legs.
Wilbur doesn't move, and Fundy stops whining and stops pawing at Wilbur's leg. Wilbur, for a moment, thinks that Fundy might leave him alone.
Fundy pauses in front of him, then scrunches down and launches himself at Wilbur's face.
"Oh, Jesus fuck," Wilbur cries out in shock, nearly smacking his son away on instinct. Fundy deftly dodges Wilburs arms and scrabbles his way up to Wilburs face, where he presses his snout on Wilburs cheek, before trying to lick away Wilbur's tears.
Fundy's tongue is sandpapery and warm, in stark contrast with his cold nose, and it tickles Wilbur like all hell.
Wilbur giggles through his tears, petting his son who yips brightly at him when he lets out a chuckle.
And maybe things will be okay.