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"You are a mockery of everything divine," Technoblade sneers.
Wilbur puts a hand to his chest in mock appreciation. "Thank you!" He shifts slightly and gives Technoblade a smirk. Though not the devilish one he keeps for humans; this is the very specific, carefully practised to be as annoying as possible, know-it-all smirk reserved for his family (Technoblade has a similar one, although the firstborn would never admit to having anything in common with the young rebel). "But lately I've been doing a fair amount of thinking," Wilbur continues. "Do you think I'm the devil because I'm inherently evil, or simply because dear ol' Dad decided I was? Isn't this a classic case of labelling?"
Technoblade's frown only grows deeper. He doesn't answer Wilbur's question, posing one of his own instead. "What do you think happens when the Devil leaves Hell?" He leans closer to Wilbur, gripping the younger's arms. Wilbur startles, but doesn't break eye contact. "All of those demons, all of those tormented souls... where do you think they go?"
"Don't know, don't care, not my problem," Wilbur replies with a winning smile. He gives Technoblade a friendly tap as the angel steps back. "So consider the position officially open!" He downs Technoblade's drink. "And you, my feathered friend, can go to hell."
In the blink of an eye, Technoblade's wing tip is at Wilbur's throat, ancient steel fused at its tip. The glass falls to the ground and shatters, but Wilbur doesn't flinch.
"Yeah, try it," Wilbur hisses. "You think Father's upset now?"
Technoblade doesn't move for a few moments, then he draws the wing back with a humourless chuckle. "He has been patient for five years. He will not be merciful for much longer."
Threat planted, Technoblade exits, leaving Wilbur with nothing but a quickly fading mark on his throat and a growing sense of dread.
"Hello, Tom."
The younger angel stands in the darkest corner of Wilbur's penthouse, wings out and ready for action. He frowns. "What, too cool to call me Tommy anymore?"
"Endearing nicknames are reserved for siblings who didn't abandon me for millenia, so..."
There's silence for a beat. Then, Tommy draws his wings back in and steps closer to Wilbur. He hunches slightly, and his expression changes from slightly menacing to mildly embarrassed. "I didn't abandon you! I've been... busy."
Wilbur's eyes widen incredulously. "Oh."
"I mean, you try being the Angel of Death! A lot of people die, Will!"
Wilbur's still not amused. "You're telling me," he replies in what he hopes is his best I'm literally the Lord of Hell voice.
"Okay, okay, I get it! You're pissed." Tommy starts speaking faster, his face just as overly expressive as Wilbur remembers. "I should have reached out to you when Dad kicked your ass down to Hell. And I was going to! But, you know. A day turned into a week which turned into a thousand years and then it just seemed weird..." He trails off, not quite looking Wilbur in the eye.
"Well, congratulations! Weirdness averted!" Wilbur says sarcastically. He puts his hands in his pockets and waits for Tommy to keep doing what he does best - talk himself into the deepest hole he can.
"You weren't there, Will, you don't know! When Dad kicked you out, the whole family was rocked. Me especially!"
Wilbur almost laughs. "Oh, really? Why's that?"
Tommy stares at him. "Because I lost my favourite big brother, dumbass."
Wilbur scoffs and turns away, heading to the bar. Tommy follows and keeps talking as Wilbur pours himself a drink.
"Come on, Will! Remember when we used to prank Technoblade?" Tommy grins. "Please tell me he still has a hilarious angry face."
Wilbur chuckles despite himself. He nods as he turns back to Tommy. "Still angry. Still hilarious."
"Mostly, I just miss you listening to me drone on about whatever was on my mind," Tommy admits. "I know it may not have meant much to you, but... it mattered a lot to me."
Wilbur falls silent. He doesn't stop glaring at Tommy.
"Look, I'm sorry," Tommy continues. "I made a mistake. But you started a fucking rebellion, Wilbur! Nobody's perfect!"
Wilbur huffs, but tilts his head in agreement. "Well, I suppose you're right about that," he mutters. Then his eyes narrow and he steps closer to Tommy. "But why are you here now? And how does Tubbo know of you?"
Tommy's eyes shift awkwardly. "Oh. That."
"Don't worry. I'm not Dad, I have no qualms about you interacting with humans," Wilbur reassures him, albeit rather coldly. He moves to sit down and Tommy follows him, though the younger stays standing. "Well, come on!"
Tommy sighs. "Tubbo was in a beastly car crash when he was young. And I showed up to, y'know, do my Angel of Death thing."
"And what?" Wilbur cuts in. "False alarm?"
"Yeah, but.." Tommy stammers a little, trying to find the right words. "This time... I dunno, I didn't wanna leave. I mean, you know Tubbo! There's just something about him. He's so- He makes you feel like- like-"
Good about yourself," Wilbur helps, staring at his glass.
"Yeah, exactly!" Tommy gestures excitedly. "I only ever get to talk to dead humans! I mean, they're so morose. Anyway, whenever I was in the neighbourhood, I'd stop by, see how he was doing. And we became friends. But apparently it's weird if people talk to invisible angels. Soooo, I told him I was a ghost. Which didn't help." He was looking at his feet now, tilting back and forth on his heels. "So... I sent him out here to be with you."
Wilbur pauses. "You did what?" He stands up and turns the glare on full force. "First Dad puts the Detective here and now you're trying to manipulate me with Tubbo? Why does everyone think I need help connecting with people?!" He storms off to get another drink.
Tommy shakes his head. "Relax," he calls out after Wilbur. "I didn't do it for you. I did it for him." Wilbur turns back to look at him. "Well, both of you, I guess." Tommy struggles for a moment, trying to find the words to express himself. "See, since I couldn't really be with him, and I couldn't be with you, I thought at least two of my favourite people could be together."
Wilbur gives his brother a dry smile, not wanting to admit the sentiment touched him. "And that's the only reason you're here?"
"Pretty much." Wilbur shakes his head in defeat and turns back to the bar. "Listen, Tom," he begins, pouring a drink for the angel, but the sound of wings flapping interrupts him.
Tommy's gone. Left Wilbur by himself again. But somehow, it doesn't feel quite as lonely this time.