Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It starts with paper clips. Honestly, Wilbur thought he was the victim of an office prank, but he can’t think of anyone who would want to prank him. He’s good friends with most of his cubicle neighbors, and Techno, his boss, is definitely not the kind of man to pull pranks. So all of his paper clips disappearing overnight is… peculiar. To say the least. 

Then he walks into his cubicle to find some of his paperclips back, bent very clumsily into several dicks and the word ‘fuck’. He sweeps them into the trash and gives a suspicious stare across the cubicle wall at David before sitting down to do work.

Then, his pens disappear. And reappear in a different spot. His potted plant, which had previously been almost dead (He’s embarrassingly bad at keeping the plant alive. He’s pretty sure the janitor waters his plant for him because he can’t remember the last time he did that), starts looking bright and healthy and better than when Will brought it in weeks ago. His calendar flips to August randomly in mid November. 

After that, it’s photos being rearranged, his trash is cleaned up. It seems like whoever the mysterious prankster is (if he could even call them that?) flip flops between being helpful and being a nuisance. For weeks his stuff would move around, get organized, get disorganized, disappear, and reappear somewhere else. It’s as frustrating as it was confusing. 

Wilbur questions everyone in the office, even considers bringing it to HR. Eventually, he gives up, it seems useless at this point. Nothing had escalated beyond these small occurrences. He briefly considers that his desk specifically is haunted, but as a mature adult, he definitely doesn’t buy over priced sage incense to try and ‘dispel the troublesome spirit’. No sir, he’s a perfectly rational adult who definitely doesn’t believe in ghosts. 

And then he started hearing things, late at night when he was working by himself on a project due the next day. Little pitter patters above him on the ceiling. He thinks of mice until he hears the tiny whispering. Just barely noticeable above the drone of the fluorescent lights. Then he thinks it’s sleep deprivation and that he should pack it up and go home because clearly he isn’t thinking straight. 

When he bends over to grab his jacket (carelessly flung under his desk), Wilbur comes face to face with a blond kid. 

Who’s about 4 inches tall.

 And eating an m&m like a hamburger. 

It’s safe to say Wilbur is glad he’s alone in the office because the scream he just made would get him teased endlessly. He almost falls out of his chair from how hard he jumps. 

“Ey, fuck you too, bitch!” The tiny teen (he can’t be older than 18, there’s no way) shouts back at him. 

Wilbur can’t do anything but stare open mouthed at him, unable to speak. The boy seems to realize something before dropping the m&m, flipping him off, and legging it back to the dark corner under his desk. 

“Wait!” Wilbur calls. “Hold on, who are-“ 

But the tiny creature is already gone. 

“You?” Wilbur finishes lamely. 

Chapter Text

Tommy pants hard, tucked between the walls of the cubicles. He got spotted, by the one person he wasn’t supposed to be spotted by. Oh fuck, the amount of trouble he’s in when he gets back… 

The human, Wilbur, had been a prime target for messing with. Only occasionally in the office late at night, with a healthy variety of desk snacks that were easy to pilfer from unnoticed, Wilbur was the perfect candidate for good old fashion Borrower teenage rebellion. It’s almost like a rite of passage at this point. Fuck with one of the Big Folk and not get caught, and you secure the respect of your peers and the amused disapproval of the adults. Tommy’s particularly proud of the penis paper clips. 

That won’t save him from Phil’s wrath though. He got caught.

He groans and sneers at the wall. Maybe it’ll be a lighter sentence if he tells Phil right away. He can pretend he wasn’t being stupid and risky eating a meal under a desk in use. As long as Phil doesn’t catch onto his bullshitting, he might get away with nothing more than a talking to. Maybe he can just lie. Yeah. No one has to know!

Tommy glances around the corner of the little doorway. Wilbur is still staring open mouthed under his desk, hands wringing his coat between them. Damn, ok, he'll have to figure out a way to keep Wilbur quiet. Not tonight though, he has to get back now. He doubts Wilbur will say anything before the work day tomorrow. He might not even need to be persuaded, might write it off as sleep deprivation. Big Folk are weird like that. 

He disappears further into the wall and follows the path back, well hidden between the cubical wall and the wall wall and slips into the fake outlet door to the inner wall. He snags one of the tiny candles (hand made from bigger candles. His community is a lot more lucky than most. They have a man on the outside, a Big Folk who brings them things that are harder to get. Candles, in today’s society, are incredibly difficult to get a hold of. People just don’t use candles in offices anymore, whatever happened to laxed fire safety?). 

Tommy takes the stairs up into the ceiling in darkness. It’s not safe to keep lit candles in the walls, but there’s always someone keeping watch on one of them at most entrances to the ceiling. He wipes the chocolate and candy shell crumbs off his face as he gets up. 

“Saaaaam, my frieeeeend,” Tommy greets. 

“Tommy,” Sam says with a nod. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be borrowing tonight?”

Tommy scoffs. “I do what I want, bitch. Got hungry and Phil wouldn’t let me have the m&m’s from the family stash.” He lights the candle with the bigger one and sticks it back into its tinfoil holder. 

“You weren’t spotted, right?” Sam asks. “I heard there’s a Big Folk working late tonight.” 

“Pfffft, wha-at? Me? Spotted? No. nonono. Fuck you for thinking I’d get spotted,” He spews, trying to look casual. “Honestly Sam, I thought you knew me better. I guess you’re just not one of the Big Men, huh.”

“I never was, Tommy.” Sam seems tired, usually he’s a lot more willing to go along with Tommy’s shenanigans. The silence stretches on to a slightly uncomfortable point.

Tommy has to leave, now. If he wants to get back before Phil gets too angry then he has to hurry. “Well, bye Sam! Got Big Men shit to do.” 

Tommy starts sauntering away, hearing the deep sigh Sam gives. For a moment, Tommy feels bad. Sam is like a second dad to him. And he makes all the coolest shit out of the materials Phil brings back from their man on the outside. It’s not too long of a walk to town, but most of the candles are out this late at night. Again, because of the man outside, they don’t need to do much borrowing outside of things they might want. They’re considerably less nocturnal than some of the other borrower towns he’s heard about (not that much news reaches them from other towns. Mail systems don’t exactly exist). 

Passing by the entrance gate, he heads past the multitude of doors in the walls all the way down to the corner. With each step, his stomach twists itself a little tighter. He carefully turns the handle, being as quiet as he can. His palms are a little sweaty. The lights are off, but that’s not a guarantee that no one is around. Between Phil being a night owl and Ranboo sleepwalking, he’s likely to bump into someone. 

It just so happens that Phil is sitting in the kitchen, in the complete dark, scaring the shit out of Tommy. 

He jumps. “Jesus Christ Phil!”

“You were told explicitly not to borrow tonight, young man,” Phil starts. 

Tommy deflates a bit, hunching in on himself and muttering a "sorry".

“You did exactly what I told you not to,” Phil reiterates. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

Tommy sucks in his lower lip and mutters a quiet. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh I know you are. What if you got spotted? Every time anyone goes out we risk getting caught, even skilled borrowers who aren’t impulsive rebellious teenagers that lack experience. You can’t do this, Tommy.” Phil takes a breath. “I get that you’re a teenager who is going to rebel, but you can’t put everyone in danger like that.” 

“I swear I wouldn’t Phil,” Tommy promises. 

Phil sighs. “Just. Think about your actions, please? Next time, please consider why I tell you what I tell you? I wouldn’t just make rules for no reason. If I tell you not to go out borrowing there is a reason, ok?” 

“Yes Phil,” Tommy mutters. His hands fiddle with each other as he tries to avoid Phil's gaze. 

“Thank you, Tommy,” Phil says. “Now please head to bed. It’s too late for this. I’m just happy you didn’t get spotted.” 

“Mhm,” Tommy hums quietly. 

“Goodnight, Tommy.” 

“Night, Phil.”

Chapter Text

Tommy heads towards his bedroom and closes the door before leaning against it. Ranboo lifts his head up from one of the beds. 

“Welcome back,” He mutters sleepily. 

Ranboo is Tommy’s brother. Tommy wouldn’t admit that under threat of death or worse. Ranboo doesn’t actually know that Tommy secretly thinks of him as a not-quite-brother. They share a room, even though their house is the biggest in the town. Perks of being the kids of the leader of their small town. Ranboo is the kind of kid people pity, much to his disgruntlement. 

“I didn’t even get to finish my m&m, Ranboo,” Tommy whispers. “You have to help me, Ranboo.” 

Ranboo snorts. “I do not like the sound of that.”

“I need you to help me sneak out during the day tomorrow,” Tommy says. 

Tommy is the type of kid responsible adult abhor. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Ranboo sits up quickly. “What, why?” 

He shushes the taller, “Keep your voice down. I got caught, ok? I gotta go make sure the guy isn’t gonna snitch.” 

“Tommy, noooo. That is the worst idea,” Ranboo groans. “What if he grabs you?” 

“That would be better than what Phil would do if he found out I got spotted,” Tommy says solemnly. 

“It would not and you know it. Phil would make you scrub the mice stables for a month at worst,” Ranboo whispers. 

“Anything is better than physical labor, Ranboob,” Tommy whispers back. “You just gotta cover for me for like fifteen minutes.” 

Ranboo stares at him defiantly. “And what if I say no?”

“Then I get Tubbo to help me. You know how shit of a liar he is, I’m bound to get caught,” Tommy says, tugging off one of his shoes. 

“How is that my problem? I don’t want to get in trouble for being an accomplice,” Ranboo says. 

“Becaaauuuse,” Tommy starts, nearly falling over while getting his socks off. “If I have to clean the mouse stables for a month, you have to hear about it. For a whole month. You think you know how much I hate cleaning the mouse stables, wait until I have to do it every day.” 

Ranboo sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Darn it, fine.” 

Tommy does a silent little victory dance before falling into bed face first with a ‘oomph’. 

“Aren’t you gonna change into pajamas?” Ranboo asks tiredly. 

“Mo,” Tommy mumbles into the blankets. “eees are ine.” (What he said, for those who can’t speak face-in-blanket language, was something along the lines of ‘No. Jeans are fine’. Though what Ranboo was referring to were the sugar shell crumbs all over his shirt.)

Tubbo is the kind of kid people point to and then look down at their own children with slightly raised eyebrows, as if to say ‘pick him as your role model, god please, out of all the teens to look up to pick Tubbo’. It’s not very fair to the kids since Tubbo is as much of a little shit as the rest of the teens, he’s just considerably better at hiding it. 

Tubbo is the teen other teens go to when they want to get away with anything. Anything.

So Tommy goes to Tubbo the next morning, after making Ranboo swear up and down to secrecy, and skips the small group of kids trying to get Tubbo to do shit for them with his Best Friend Powers. 

“Oi, Tubbo. Need your help,” He starts. “I gotta sneak off before Phil grounds me for last night, and I want you to come with as lookout.”

“I’m always lookout, though,” Tubbo whines. “Get Ranboo to do it.” 

“Ranboo is covering for me, it has to be you,” Tommy explains. “I uh… well. I got just a little bit spotted by the mark.” 

“You what? Tommy!” Tubbo blanches. 

“What? What? I was eating an M&M and the rat bastard snuck up on me, it’s not like I was in full sight. I dashed away too quick, bet the fucker didn’t even see me all that well.” 

~~~~ 

Wilbur had to be losing his mind. Tiny men! In the walls! Probably responsible for all his shit moving! What the fuck! Why did he just stick with his singing career??? He couldn’t have seen it right, right? Sleep deprivation causes hallucinations right? Right. Did he really not sleep enough to start hallucinating? He had to. 

There’s no way Tiny People are real. 

~~~~ 

“No way he saw saw me,” Tommy assures. “But just in case, I want to go leave a vaguely threatening note telling him to keep his mouth shut.” 

At that, Tubbo smiles, a wicked little thing, and Tommy just knows he’s planning something. Something good. 

The two of them skitter out of town towards one of the abandoned tunnels. It’s a risky route for everyday use, but one or two borrowers every now and then wouldn’t hurt. The two of them run quietly, passing holes from removed paintings that cast the inside of the wall in sporadic light. They take the ladders down to floor level and exit through the hidden door into the cubical inbetweens. They follow the wires, feet silent on the rubber insulator. 

“29… 30… 31, this is it,” Tubbo whispers, almost imperceptibly quiet. “You got the hooks right?” 

“Yep,” Tommy whispers back. He hands Tubbo the grappling hooks. They’re genuine, borrowing grade grappling hooks. The kinds of things only adult borrowers use to get up on high places. Small fishing hooks super glued together on a long line of strong embroidery rope. How the hell Tubbo got these is a mystery, but it’s best not to question Tubbo, ever. 

“Got the note?” Tubbo checks. 

“Oh for fuck‘s sake, of course i have the fucking note, I’m not stupid,” Tommy shoots back. 

Tubbo doesn’t respond, instead putting his pointed ear to the plastic of the cubicle. Tommy does the same. 

The sound of tapping fingers, Wilbur humming quietly, and the occasional click of a keyboard travel to their ears. Wilbur is there and focused as shit. Good enough for them. 

Tubbo silently hoists his grappling hook up and up and up until it hits the top of the cubicle wall. The potted plant up there droops well over it’s pot walls and provides good cover for a borrower. Tubbo starts scaling the wall. Tommy watches, holding his breath, until Tubbo disappears over the lip of the wall. 

A moment, and the Tubbo sticks a thumbs up over the edge and Tommy starts climbing too. He fights to keep his breathing quiet. Somewhere, a phone goes off quietly. The lights buzz quietly, Everything is too quiet for him to be panting right now. 

Tubbo helps pull him up, and jerks his finger in Wilbur’s direction. The giant is still staring at his computer screen and mumbling the words to a song under his breath. The two of them pull out the chunky folded note from deep inside Tommy’s hoodie pocket and work on unfolding it and smoothing it out. They smooth and fold again and smooth creases into place before getting into position. 

“Aim for the computer screen,” Tommy whispers. 

“No shit, Tommy,” Tubbo whispers back. “Ready…. Aim…. Fire.” 

The paper airplane about 2 inches from nose to tail sails beautifully between the leaves of the plant, over the air and crash lands right onto the screen where Wilbur’s cursor blinks. 

“What the fuck?” Wilbur mutters. 

The two watch with giddy glee as the giant looks around, clearly confused before peeking his head over the wall and asking the guy in the next cubicle over if he threw a paper airplane at his desk. Tubbo actually snickers quietly when the answer is no and Wilbur sits down again. 

He unfolds it slowly, reading it with furrowed brows before looking up again and scanning the room more carefully. Tubbo shoots Tommy a feral grin.

Mission accomplished, time to return home.

Chapter Text

Last night he wasn’t sure, but now he knows it. He’s losing his mind. Wilbur stares at the little sticky note airplane that just gracefully crashed right into his monitor screen. Niki just left for lunch, and was in the process of leaving when the plane landed. David across from him is out today. The only directions the plane could have come from are abandoned. 

And yet, it taunts him, lying on it’s side on his desk. 

He slowly reaches a hand out, almost afraid the mystery plane will do something if he touches it. His fingers brush against the paper, his heart races for a moment, and… nothing. It’s just an ordinary paper airplane, clumsily folded if nothing else. 

He can see something like pencil marks inside the middle lip. He unfolds it a little, taking his sweet time to pull the bewildering thing flat. Low and behold, in small shaky writing: 

“Yesterday didn’t happen, Wilbur Soot. If you want to continue to do your job peacefully, you’ll remember that. You’ve seen what we can do to your paper clips, but what you haven’t seen is what we can do to all your important paperwork.

-The Big Men”  

He whips his head up to look around again. ‘Yesterday’. Is it referring to the little guy he saw? Does that mean what he saw was real? Is he not going crazy? Why’s it signed ‘The Big Men’? Does that mean there are more of the little things? His glance passes over the top of the cubicles, past the office plant, and back again. He sees nothing out of the ordinary. 

The threat is obvious. He didn’t even consider talking to anyone about it, because, c’mon. Who would even believe him? His boss, Techno Blade, has a rather scary reputation and above all else, he’s a serious and rational guy. Niki is sweet but she would definitely chalk it up to lack of sleep. David would probably think it’s a prank.

Who are these Big Men? Wilbur sighs strongly through his nose. 

On his break, Wil puts ‘tiny people living in the walls’ into the google search bar, no matter how silly he feels about it. To his surprise, there’s a little blurb about a children’s book about things called Borrowers. Tiny people who live in walls and come out to steal things to survive. Every result is about the children’s book or the movies that sparked from it. 

When he gets back to his desk, he pulls a sticky note out and starts writing. He folds it up, sticky side tucked over on it self, and when no one’s looking, ducks under his desk to put it somewhere. 

It’s dark under there, his phone flashlight coming in useful. There has to be a perfect spot to put the note, somewhere where it’s sure to be found. 

There’s a small hole for wires and cables and that looks like a good place, so he shoves the note through it and considers it job well done. 

He comes back up grinning and a quiet throat clearing makes him jump. He spins around. His boss is standing there, one raised eyebrow. 

“Ah! Techno, hey! Just.. dropped… uhh. something. Got it now, all fine! What do you need?” He panic spews. 

“I wanted to thank you for the over time you’ve been putting in,” Techno says bluntly. “Good work.” 

And then he’s walking away, cotton candy pink hair fluttering in the AC breeze. Wilbur breathes a sigh of relief.

The rest of day goes by quietly, and Wilbur goes home without fuss or an appearance from ‘The Big Men’. When he gets home, he thinks about his note and feels something he’s never felt before. Excitement to go to work the next day.

Chapter Text

By Borrower standards, Ranboo is tall, very tall. He would hit his head on some Borrower doors and some passages were not great for him. By literally anyone else’s standards, he is tiny. And he has never felt tinier than right now, pinned under Phil’s gaze. 

“And where did you boys go today?” Phil asks in that Parental Way that definitely means Phil knows exactly what they did today. 

Tommy beside him is blessed with the confidence and arrogance to shrug completely nonchalantly and out right lie, “Walked through the walls. Went to visit Niki.” 

They did not go to visit Niki, who prefers to live in the outskirts of the town so her girlfriend can do her job as the Messenger Borrower without having to go so far. They did something much, much worse than go bother Niki (it’s not bothering if she willingly hosts their antics). 

Phil crosses his arms (oh no) and leans back against the counter (Oh no) and sighs deeply (Oh No). “Ranboo.” 

OH NO. 

“Y-yes?” Curse his chocolate eclair backbone. 

“Where were you boys today?” 

Tommy cuts in “Hey! I just told you, why do you have to ask Ranboo? Do you not trust me? Phil, I’m hurt.” 

Ranboo starts to inch away as Phil’s attention falls on Tommy. 

Phil tilts his head. “Less than two days ago you risked getting caught by a Big Folk. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you right now.” 

Tommy deflates. “Sorry.” 

He’s almost out the door, so close to just escaping into his room. 

“Ranboo, come back here and answer my question.” 

Gosh darn it. 

“We were at Niki’s?” Ranboo tries, but his voice pitches up and he winces. 

“So that’s the story you're sticking with? You’re sure?” 

“Absolutely, because that’s what happened,” Tommy pushes. “Ask Tubbo, he’ll tell you.” 

Phil shakes his head. “Just. Be careful. Remember what I told you.” 

Ranboo nods. That should be easy. 

~~~~

“Tommy this is the exact opposite of careful ,” Ranboo whispers furiously. 

“What? Wilbur already knows, it’s only him today and I have to respond to his response or else I’m a pussy,” Tommy explains. 

Tubbo pops up from one of the more hidden passages. “You are a pussy.” 

“Fuck you, I am not!” 

“Keep your voice down,” Ranboo hisses. 

Tubbo smiles at him. “Hey sexy.” 

He turns red and scowls at Tubbo. Tommy snickers, before digging his hand into a crack in the wall and pulling the folded up paper from the hiding place. 

“So here’s the note,” Tommy says. “Wil-bitch’s response.” 

“Prove it. 

             -Wilbur Soot” 

“Obviously this is an insult to the Big Men, and we need to show him we’re serious,” Tommy goes on. 

“Let’s shred his social security card,” Tubbo suggests. “Then he will never be safe around his friends.” 

“That’s not what a social security card is, Tubbo,” Ranboo corrects.

“Then why would they call it that?” Tommy sneers. “Seems stupid.” 

“It is stupid,” Tubbo agrees. “It’s for social security. obviously it’s to ensure safety around others.” 

“It’s really not.” 

“Moving on,” Tommy starts. “When we get down there, we grab the nearest most important document and drop it in the shredder. If he notices, then he notices. If not then he will notice. Eventually.”

“This is a really dumb idea,” Ranboo argues. “Why are we making his life harder?” 

“He literally asked for it, bossman.” Tubbo points to the letter. “We’re just showing him we mean business.” 

“I do not like this idea,” Ranboo says. 

Tommy stands up. “I don’t care. Let’s go.” 

The three of them move through the walls quietly. They follow the same from before, and instead of climbing up to hide under the plant, they pop out of the hidden doorway closer to the ground, dropping down the couple of inches necessary. 

Tommy lifts a hand and flicks it every which way before looking back to them for confirmation. 

“That didn’t make sense,” Tubbo whispers. 

“No idea what that means,” Ranboo mouths. 

“completely incomprehensible, bossman,” Tubbo says without missing a beat. 

“You both suck,” Tommy mutters. “Head around the edge of his desk and start climbing up using the velcro.” 

Tubbo nods. “It’s only Wilbur here right now, so we don’t have to be too quiet but we don’t want to startle him yet. Once we get the paper we want then we can get his attention and shred it while he watches.” 

“This is an awful, awful idea,” Ranboo protests. 

“We heard you the first time, bitch boy,” Tommy shoots back. “Let’s go.”  

If they had the means and knew what Mission Impossible was, they would definitely be playing the Mission Impossible theme right now. All three of them dig hand holds into the fabric of the cubicle paneling with velcro strips, slowly and quietly working their way up the wall. 

“Just a bit farther,” Tommy whisper down to his crime partners. 

They pull themselves over the ledge and pause to check on Wilbur. He’s still working away, staring at the screen. The nonexistent music comes to a supenseful lull. 

“All clear,” Tubbo whispers. 

The three of them immediately set out for the paperwork in the metal tray off to the side. Tommy looks at the top one. 

“Does this look important enough?” Tommy asks. 

“definitely, look at all the numbers.” Tubbo whispers back. 

Ranboo keeps an eye on Wilbur. 

“Ok, help me get it,” Tommy says, lifting one corner. “On three.” 

“One…. Two… Three!” 

They lift the page and pull it over the edge of the tray as noiselessly as possible. Everything comes to a halt as they wait anxiously to see if Wilbur heard. 

“All clear,” Tubbo whispers. 

They pull the paper to the edge of the desk. 

The plan is simple. Get the paper, attach a string to it with some sticky putty, and lower it into the shredder. 

“Ranboo, go down there and help us line this up with the shredder,” Tommy instructs. 

“Don’t fall into the sharp blades and die!” Tubbo says cheerfully, holding out rope for Ranboo. 

“I hate both of you,” Ranboo grumbles, but takes the rope nonetheless. 

He propels down to the shredder, landing with a soft thud. 

“Lower it down!” He whisper calls up to them. 

“What?” Tubbo calls back. 

“Lower! It! Down!” Ranboo whisper shouts again. 

“Ok!” A thumbs up appears over the side of the desk and disappears when the edge of the paper replaces it, 

The actual lowering process goes deceptively well, it’s the shredder part where it all breaks down. No matter how much he tries to push the paper through it won’t shred. It just crinkles the paper at the bottom slightly and is supremely dissapointing. 

“It’s not working!” He whisper calls. 

“Wait, really?” Tubbo calls back. 

“Oh, wait, never mind it wasn’t turned on,” Ranboo calls back. 

Tommy groans and Tubbo whines out a dissapointed ‘Big maaan’. 

The shredder whurs to life and the paper disappears quickly and loudly. They cheer, no longer worrying about the level of noise, as the sound of paper shredding is sure to alert Wilbur. 

“Fuck yeah, mission accomplished!” Tommy shouts. 

They collectively turn to face Wilbur, ready to face whatever result awaits their little stunt, and!—

Nothing.

Wilbur doesn’t turn around, he doesn’t make an indication that he’s heard them. 

“What?” Tommy screeches. 

Ranboo pulls himself over the edge of the desk. 

“Awww,” Tubbo groans. “He has headphones in!” 

“What the fuck!” Tommy shrieks. 

Before Ranboo can put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, Tommy is marching over towards Wilbur’s hand on the mouse. 

“Uh oh,” Tubbo mutters, and Ranboo can’t help but agree. 

“Hey, dickface!!!” Tommy shouts, and brings his foot down on Wilbur’s pinky finger. Hard. 

Wilbur jumps close to a foot with a screech. “What the fuck was that???” 

“Me, asshole!! Take your goddamn headphones out!” Tommy screams at him. 

Wilbur stares down at him. Ranboo’s heart leaps into his throat as the Big Folk’s un-stomped hand slowly comes up. For a second he can see that hand shooting out and wrapping around Tommy and then uh oh, no more Tommy, but Wilbur just reaches up and pulls his headphones out. 

“Oh my god,” Wilbur says softly. “You’re smaller than I remember.” 

Tommy splutters and turns several shades of red that Ranboo did not know a Borrower could turn. “Fuck you- just, Fuck! You! Fucking Big Folk Prick! Go eat shit and die!” 

Wilbur’s mouth curls into a smile despite what new and creative names Tommy keeps coming up with for him. “Are you the one who left me the note?” 

Tommy puffs up his chest and sticks his chin out. “Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing. Your secret is safe with me,” Wilbur says.

“Bit cliche, big man,” Tubbo calls out. 

Wilbur’s head whips around to face them. It’s scary, being the focus of someone so much bigger than them. He could crush Ranboo, even as abnormally tall he is for a Borrower. 

“The rest of the ‘Big Men’ I presume?” 

Tubbo nods. “I’m Tubbo.” 

“Ranboo,” Ranboo follows. 

“Nice to meet you three,” Wilbur says pleasantly. 

“No, it’s not,” Tommy insists. “We’re going to make your life a living hell-“ 

“I’m sorry for him,” Ranboo cuts Tommy off. 

~~~~

Wilbur is very nice, much to Ranboo’s relief. He doesn’t mind Tommy’s posturing and insults, and he isn’t going to tell anyone. “Who would believe me?” was his reasoning. 

He lets them raid his M&M stash, and it’s hard to notice just how much time has passed until Ranboo remembers that technically they are In TroubleTM and should probably leave soon to avoid getting further into trouble with Phil. 

They leave after Wilbur pushes a couple of M&M’s into their packs. 

“We shredded the numbers paper, by the way,” Tommy calls over his shoulder. “Sorry not sorry.” 

Wilbur shrugs. “I’ll just print another, there’s always electronic copies.” 

“Fuck!” Tommy says under his breath. 

“Thank you for the M&M’s, Mr. Soot,” Ranboo says politely. 

“Just call me Wilbur!” 

Chapter Text

Wilbur knew he wasn’t going crazy, he fucking knew he was right. His pinky finger has a tiny shoe shaped bruise on it, further proof of his un-crazy, perfectly sane mind. Honestly, he could explain away the note if need be, he could explain the office pranks as just a coworker who refused to confess, but really, actually seeing the tiny men living in the ceiling just cements the fact that he was right. 

He can’t stop thinking about them for the rest of the day, running the interaction over and over in his mind. Wilbur idly thinks about the next time he’ll see them too. Should he bring stuff for them? They are called “borrowers” after all. 

He finishes the work day sloppily, excited to go home and research further into what borrowers actually are. Wilbur stops by a fast food place to get a meal and then it’s straight home. 

Frustratingly, there isn’t much out there on the internet about borrowers that isn’t talking about them in a fictional sense. Then he searches about Brownies, because it comes recommended after he clicks through too many of the similar questions. 

At least with Brownies there are people who believe they exist. But they still don’t fit, besides living in houses and either being helpful or a nuisance. And they’re a type of fairy, at which Wilbur groans. He’s willing to believe anything but if he says to anyone, himself included, that there are fairies living in the walls, he can’t help but cringe. 

After a frustrating half hour he gives up and sits on his couch to watch some late night television drivel to calm down. As the quiet sounds of the television lull him into drifting off, he thinks about the tiny people and off handedly wonders if they live in his walls too. 

That has him sitting up, more alert. Do they live everywhere? Does every house have borrowers, or brownies, or whatever the fuck they are? It’s true that Wilbur has stuff disappear sometimes but he’s always attributed it to being a busy man who misplaces stuff occasionally. Could it be tiny people living in his walls, “borrowing” his stuff?

He sighs shakily. He’s just going to have to get used to this. 

“Uhh,” He hums uncertainly. “If. Uh, if there are people living in my walls, tiny people i mean, and you’re listening, feel free to help yourselves to my food, just leave a note if you use all of something?” 

Nothing. Not that he thought he’d get a response. 

“Sorry if I’m not supposed to know about you guys, I met some borrowers at my work,” He continued, standing up with some effort. “Actually, I’m just gonna leave nonperishable items out so they’re easier to get.” 

He leaves a few saltines, some candy, and some chips on a plate on his counter. He scribbles a quick note to try and keep the counter clean on a sticky note and leaves it by the plate. And then, Wilbur finally heads to bed. 

If it’s gone in the morning then it’s either the borrowers or pests.

~~~~

When he wakes up, the food is gone and in its place is a 50 dollar bill. Wilbur gapes at it for a second before pocketing it.

That rules out pests, he guesses.

~~~~

On his break, he drives to the nearest grocery store and buys as many nonperishable items as he can with the money left for him this morning. It helps that he’s trying to buy them in the smallest amounts they come in, to make it easier on the borrowers. Dried fruits, small water bottles, nuts, chips, anything that won’t perish for a while after opening. He buys tiny shot glasses to leave the foods in before heading up to check out. 

He ends up going over the 50 by a little bit but he doesn’t mind. He’s not struggling financially and can afford the 20 to cover the rest of it. 

~~~~ 

Wilbur clocks out without seeing his new friends, and leaves a shot glass of m&m’s tucked away under his desk in case they come back and he’s not there. When he gets home he sets up the rest of the shot glasses with a nice variety of foods. 

As he sets it up he wonders when he got so invested.