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Okay, okay, so maybe Ranboo should have been more careful. In his defense, he didn't expect the blizzard to kick up so quickly. One moment, it was clear skies, maybe a little cloudy, the next there was a light sprinkling of snow, and then he blinked and couldn't see two feet in front of his face. He'd gotten inside as soon as he could, honestly. It wasn't his fault the door was jammed, and the windows were open, and the fireplace wouldn't start. At the very least, he'd avoided the worst of the water burns since he was wearing his armor when the storm started. Sure, he had a little sniffle afterwards, but that was just because he was so cold! Besides, that thing about getting sick from being cold and wet was an old wives' tale.
…Okay, so maybe he should have been concerned when his water allergy started acting up afterwards, skin irritated and itchy even just from the moisture in the air. That usually only happened when he was stressed or particularly tired, but he was fine! He was doing fine, really, he was, the blizzard was just background noise now, having been going on for the past day or so. The itchiness and occasional sniffle were probably just a fluke. He'd be fine in no time.
Except then, he'd visited his villagers, done some trading, you know, pass the time, keep busy. And one of them had been sneezing. Like, violently. And frequently. Ranboo'd thought he'd be alright, honestly, he almost never got sick. Good genetics, or something.
You know, he still wasn't entirely sure exactly what his genetics were. Half-enderman, yes, but— Well, anyways.
The point was, now he was huddled up on his couch, shivering with mild fever, trapped inside under piles of snow with a recently started, barely-there fire casting strange shadows on the edges of the room. A bundle of torches were placed on the ground just below him, offering some semblance of warmth and warding off the frost that threatened his floors, but he was still shivering. His skin felt flushed and ice-cold at the same time, bloodstream rushing just under the surface and sending unpleasant waves down his spine and into his tails. He shuddered and curled tighter into himself, ears flicking. He didn't trust himself to brave the stairs to find his nice, warm bed, not with his vision swimming the way it was.
He contented himself with drifting in and out of a hazy stupor, not sure how much time was passing, not sure what was real. He thought he heard footsteps a couple times, felt the phantom sensations of a hand or wing, listened to the whispers of particles. He saw flashes of memories, or maybe dreams. They quickly warped into something absurd, often terrifying. He'd heard the term fever dreams before, thought nothing of it. He got it now.
Hours passed. Maybe. He wasn't actually sure. All he knew was that the chill was getting worse and his thoughts were more disjointed. He couldn't think of anything but a haze. He mumbled to himself, not sure what he was saying. At one point, he thought he stood up, rolled off of the couch, feet unsteady against the cold ground. When he opened his eyes, he was still in the same spot. Great. Right. He could wait this out. He had food and drink stashed away in his inventory, and he was eating what he could. Probably. Maybe. The bread had a bite out of it, at least, and there were less loaves than he remembered. Or were there? He didn't know. The world was a blur of soft orange and gentle grey. His head felt like swimming. Was that bad? That was probably bad. It kind of burned, like water, but everything felt unsteady and shimmery and congealed liquid, like in lava, and overall he was just having a bad day. Days? He didn't know at this point. That was probably bad, too.
Distantly, he heard a door latch, or unlatch, a burst of cold air drawing a distressed noise from the back of his throat. He turned and pressed closer into the couch, into himself, limbs all bones and noodles, tips of his tails flicking against his knees where they were curled around his legs. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. Too heavy. Too bright. The fire had burned down by now but still too bright. Too cold, too. Air, cold air swirled around him, sending him right back into a shivering, shuddering mess.
Door latched again. Or unlatched. A creak in the floor had his ears pressed against his head. Maybe he should be worried? The idea was distant and fuzzy in his mind. Worried, yes… About the door. And the air. Cold air. Cold air that had…stopped. Now a weight was in the air, heavy, pausing. Ranboo mumbled something incoherent, twisting and turning to try and get more comfortable.
After a moment, something heavy and soft settled around his shoulders. He exhaled, eyes still too heavy, too cold. But he was warming up. This weight, heavy, soft, was good. Good. Something solid and warm slipped into the empty space beside him. Half-conscious, he curled up against the warmth, breaths turning slow and even. He shivered again, a whining keen somewhere in the back of his throat. Some rumbling, monotone noise lilted through the air beside him, but he couldn't make sense of it. Within moments, he was asleep, exhaustion finally catching up to him now that he was warm, and safe, and tired, so, so tired. The last word on his mind was home.
---
Prime, this kid was going to be the death of him. Technoblade rubbed the ridge of his snout, head tilted back against the couch as Ranboo curled up against his side. The kid was absolutely burning up. He'd been—not worried, more like annoyed—when the blizzard hit, knowing it would hit him hard, knowing it might hit Ranboo even harder. He'd been so busy with his own preparations that he didn't think to check on the kid. Now it was, what, a day, two days after the blizzard, and Ranboo was balled up on his couch with a fever? Great.
Despite Ranboo's abnormal height, Techno's cloak absolutely dwarfed him from where it had been draped around his shoulders, the blood-red fabric and soft white fur burying the enderman hybrid in a sea of cloth. Technoblade scoffed, pulling the cloak tighter around Ranboo. Wasn't his fault the kid was so lanky. Definitely wasn't endearing, either.
Awwww Technosoft
Technoprotect
Blood?
E
Technodad and Ranson
Blizzards don't have blood you idiot
Technosoft
Technodad
What'd I miss?
E
Techno has a new son
Ee
Technosoft hehe
E
E
E
Not endearing at all, he thought sharply, shoving Chat to the back of his mind as they devolved into high-pitched screeching. "Technosoft." He scoffed, shifting in his seat. Losers, all of them. He wasn't soft. He was The Blade, destroyer of governments and orphans, and he had a brand to uphold. And he certainly didn’t have a son. He said as much, muttering to himself as he scooped Ranboo up in his arms, hooves catching on the soft material of his cloak. Hey, actually, was Ranboo an orphan? He'd never seen his parents, never heard the kid mention them, either. That was concerning. Because, of course, if Ranboo was an orphan, then Techno was failing to uphold his brand by letting him stay on his property. That was the only reason it was concerning. Of course he wasn't worried about the kid. Only his brand.
This sent Chat into another tirade, and Techno groaned, pushing the door open with his elbow as he ducked out of Ranboo's little…house…thing. Really, Chat was overreacting. He was being practical. It wouldn't do well to have his apprentice sick, especially not on his property. Could a disease outbreak lower property values? He bet it could, and then what would become of his retirement home? A disaster, he asserted. An absolute disaster in the making.
Once Techno stepped outside, Ranboo made a sad little noise and pressed even tighter against his chest. Techno tried not to give a name to the feeling that sent swimming through his bones, but Chat started screaming "Technoprotect" anyway, so what was the point. He wasn't protective, he rationalized. He was... Uh...
He grumbled something incoherent to himself about "those who treat me with kindness," or whatever and pushed onwards, trudging through leftover snow. He did his best to keep Ranboo sheltered from the few flakes still falling, having taken note of the smattering of irritated skin on the kid's face. He pulled the end of the cloak all the way back around Ranboo with one hand, adjusting his grip on the kid with the other. After he was done, only Ranboo's paws and his horns were exposed to the world, the latter highlighted by a tuft of two-toned hair. He'd been growing it out lately. It was past his shoulders, now, in a weird sort-of-mullet fashion. Techno'd have to make fun of him for it later.
After a bit more walking, Techno's hooves number with cold than before, they arrived at his house. He probably could've left Ranboo at his own place and come back with supplies, but then what if something happened, or he didn't bring something he needed, or Ranboo woke up alone, and really, then he'd have to make the trip back, too, so this was the most practical option. Because what was Techno if not practical?
Technoprotect
Technoworry, Technoconcern
Ranboo seems really sick
Technodad
E
Technodad and Sonboo
Technodad
Technosoft
Are you even a qualified doctor
E
E
This is boring
Technodad
Ranson Ranson
E
Sickboo
How'd we let it get this bad before checking on him?
A pang went through his chest at the last voice, and he had to agree. He should've checked on Ranboo earlier, immediately, even. Maybe he even should've visited when the first signs of the oncoming blizzard made themselves known. The kid hadn't been living here for long, and he might not have even realized that a blizzard was going to hit. Had he been sick before the storm? Did he get sick during it? Techno climbed up the ladder to the attic, set Ranboo down there on the spare bed—
And the younger let out a low whine at the loss of contact, tails lashing against the antarctic cloak.
Techno froze, stuck half-holding the kid, hooves wrapped gently around his shoulders, back curved in the process of standing up. His own tail swung an anxious arc behind him.
Oh my PRIME
PICK THE KID BACK UP
Technocruel
Technodad
PICK HIM UP
E e e e e
You need to go get medical supplies
Doctorblade!
Oh that was so cute
PICK HIM UP!
L
Lol Technodad
Please go get the healing pots
An eternity passed, and Techno breathed again, setting Ranboo all the way down against the mattress despite the kid's murmured protests. The coarse fur on the back of his neck bristled as he climbed back down towards his storage room, but he ignored it. He needed to get medicine for Ranboo, and he couldn't do that if he carried him everywhere, no matter what Chat insisted. (No matter what his mind insisted—the traitorous thing was screaming at him to turn around immediately and coddle the poor kid, and he couldn't even blame it on Chat. He could blame it on Phil, and he would. That man's stupid bird brain was rubbing off on him, he knew it.)
He pushed the surge of unwanted emotions down deep in the hollow of his chest and rifled through his belongings. He needed health pots, maybe regen too, food and drink—although thankfully, the kid seemed to be well-nourished, still. As he waited for the stove to reheat some old stew, he grabbed a few gapples, for quick recovery. What else? Milk, maybe, in case the fever was a magical illness? Couldn't hurt. He grabbed the bowl of stew, cradling it in the crook of his elbow after making sure it was warm enough. He scrolled through his inventory, narrowed eyes scanning to make sure he had everything. After a moment, he gave a satisfied nod, dismissing his inventory with a flick of his wrist and quickly climbing back to the attic.
The kid was still curled up in a little ball on top of the bed, two-toned hair spilling out over the edge of Techno's cloak and onto the pillow. His silk-touch paws were curled around the hem of the cloak, grip tight. The furred tips of his twin tails flicked lazily where they were peeking out from below the fabric, brushing from the pads of his feet to the joint of his ankle. Techno set the stew down on the nearby table. At least Ranboo still seemed functional and alive, if not exactly lucid. He scanned him over once or twice again, looking for anything seriously wrong, but he found nothing. The kid rolled over, grumbling something on a huffed exhale, ears flicking as his hair fell over them, the bushy strands parting around his horns. Yep, he was still alive; not injured, just very sick. Techno grumbled something under his breath about kids these days lacking common sense, then pulled up a chair to the bedside, sitting in it rather awkwardly. He flicked through his inventory until the milk was in his hand, then cleared his throat, feeling entirely out of his element.
“Uh, Ranboo. Think you can wake up?” He waited as a beat passed in silence. Ranboo muttered in annoyance and rolled over again. “Ranboo. Ranboo. You’ve gotta wake up.”
He grabbed the kid’s shoulder and shook it gently, watching as Ranboo’s heterochromatic eyes fluttered open, brow drawn and a haze still covering his expression.
“Mmh?” The noise was barely coherent. “Whuh? Huh?” Ranboo blinked blearily, eyes almost focusing on Techno. “Technoblade? Huh?”
Techno clapped his hoof on Ranboo’s shoulder lightly, a gruff noise of acknowledgement humming in his chest. “Yep. Good job, Ranboo, you remembered my name. Go ahead and sit up for me.”
Ranboo only blinked, expression clouded and hazy. He peered somewhere near Techno’s shoulder, unresponsive. Techno sighed and tugged lightly on Ranboo’s shoulder, ignoring the shocked yelp from the teen as he did so. Ranboo got the picture pretty quickly after that, shifting into a sitting position with a groan. Techno kept his hand steady on the younger boy’s shoulder.
“Drink this,” he said without fanfare, handing the milk off to Ranboo. Ranboo stared at it in confusion for a moment, eyes wide and brow furrowed.
“Why?”
“ ‘Case your fever’s magic or something, I dunno. Just drink the milk, Ranboo.” He let go of the kid’s shoulder, semi-confident in his ability to hold himself upright. After a moment, Ranboo shrugged and chugged the milk, expression scrunching in on itself at the flavor. Techno could sympathize. Nothing tasted good when you had a cold. He narrowed his eyes to see if anything had changed, but Ranboo was still shivering violently, eyes veiled with exhaustion and delirium, skin hot to the touch.
“Well, it was worth a shot,” he said, shrugging. Ranboo nodded absently, setting the cup down, while Techno summoned the potions from his inventory and held them out for him to take. “Time for the good stuff.”
Ranboo glared at the bottles mistrustingly. “Not sure I want the, uh, ‘good stuff,’” he mumbled, breaths rattling. Techno grimaced.
“Trust me, you do. Drink up.”
Ranboo gave him another wary look before taking the healing and regen pots in shaky hands, claws wrapping around the glass gently with a soft click. He uncorked the healing first, sniffing it before chugging the whole bottle. He did the same with the regen, face screwed up in something not unlike pure disgust. Still, after just a few moments, his haziness cleared. For the first time since Techno had found him lying asleep on his own couch, he looked lucid. Well, almost lucid. A shadow of deep-seated confusion crossed his face as he looked around, despite the clarity he’d gained from the potions. He glanced around the room, taking it all in, and Techno followed his gaze.
The attic was small, but not cramped. Warm wooden floors met the edges of a similarly-constructed A-frame roof, coming to a point about 10 feet above the center of the room. Tucked into the far end of the room was a large semicircle of bookshelves, curved around an enchanting table that filled the air with quiet humming. There were a few useful stations embedded into the walls, from grindstones to a barrel full of various knicknacks. A single window let the slowly dimming natural light filter into the room, the fresh air's chill welcome against the warmth that floated up from the lower floors. The window was situated between the foot of the bed, where Ranboo sat, and Technoblade’s very important, definitely not strangely placed Channel Bell. A few lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the already well-lit room. Beside the bed was a ladder that descended to the lower floors, and on the other side of the ladder was a dresser, and a small set of a table and chairs, which Techno had stolen from to sit next to Ranboo. Ranboo’s eyes dragged back to the bed, eyeing the soft white fabric with utter befuddlement, looking even more confused when he noticed the deep red cloak draped around his figure. His hands tightened around the pale fur lining the collar, digging into the texture. He glanced up at Technoblade, brow drawn tight.
“Am I, uh, asleep? Still?”
Techno paused for a moment, taken aback. Ranboo’s expression grew more confused and guarded. Then, Techno snorted, and it was Ranboo’s turn to be caught off guard.
“No,” was all Techno said in response, leaning back in his chair. The disoriented look on Ranboo’s face never left. He continued to glance around the room, mouth half open like he was working on words he couldn’t grasp. Techno huffed, rolling his eyes.
“Look,” he began, careful not to make eye contact, staring somewhere over Ranboo’s shoulder. “You weren’t around after the blizzard, and I decided to pay you a visit, and you were all sick and stuff on your couch, so I brought you to my place.”
Ranboo’s constantly bewildered expression morphed into surprise, and maybe something like realization. He summoned a journal from his inventory, flipping through it. He scanned the pages for a few moments before scribbling something down in a blank space. Techno looked away, choosing not to comment on it.
Memory boy strikes again
Technosoft
What do you think he’s writing about? Us?
You should ask him
Don’t ask, that’s an invasion of privacy
Technosoftttt
E
Poor guy looks so lost
How’s the Ranson’s fever?
E
He seems to be doing better now, good job Mr. the Blade
As per usual, Chat was an annoyance. At least they were being calm today, too occupied with Ranboo’s plight to pester him about anything else. Techno resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead leaning forward and pressing the back of his wrist against Ranboo’s forehead. Ranboo froze, eyes wide as he stared at the hooved appendage pressed against the thin layer of his fur. After a moment, Techno grunted in approval, leaning back in his chair again.
“You’ve still got a fever, but it’s not as severe as before,” he stated simply. The chair scraped against the floor as he stood, stretching languidly, ignoring Ranboo’s deer-in-headlights eyes on him. He rolled his shoulders, a contemplative expression passing over his face. Now that Ranboo was up and at 'em, maybe Techno could get some of his daily chores done. Carl's stables still needed to be cleaned, and he had to milk his cows… Cows, milk, food...
Oh, right. His eyes widened in realization, and he turned to pick up the stew he'd gotten for Ranboo. The man in question continued to stare at Techno like he'd grown a second head, which, well, maybe he had, not like he would know. Techno handed over the stew, a spoon, and a cup of water, the latter two found buried somewhere in his inventory. Ranboo took them, hesitation clear in every inch of his frame. He kept looking between the food he’d been given, the cloak around his shoulders, and Techno himself. Technoblade, frankly, didn't have the energy to try and decipher what that meant.
"You look like you've been eating well enough, but you need fluids, so I got you some stew." His tone was flat and matter-of-fact, a half-shrug the only other explanation he had to offer. Ranboo’s face did not change. Techno huffed, dragging a hand down his face. He really didn’t have the energy to figure this out right now. “Look, kid, it’s been a long couple of days. I’m—” sorry I didn’t check up on you earlier. You’re really sick, now, and I could’ve caught it earlier if I hadn’t been so distracted. “I’m tired. You’re tired. We’re all tired. You should get some rest.”
Ranboo paused, expression drawing into something hesitant. “Right. It’s just, um, Techno— Am I in your house?”
Techno could only stare blankly. “Yeah, Ranboo, I said that. Earlier.”
“Oh.” Ranboo nodded, looking away. “Oh. Yeah, yeah, right. I remember that now.”
Techno resisted the urge to tear at his mane. He was unnecessarily stressed right now.
It’s because you care
Lol massive L
Technosoft
Aww, Techno cares about Ranboo
We should make Techno kill him
NO
WHAT
No kill, only protect
NO!
L
Yes.
Nooooooo
Protect, Technoprotect
Maybe we could fight the blizzard instead
Blizzard’s over, can’t fight it
Get rid of the snow, it made him sick
Technoprotect
Shut up, Chat. They were so, so incredibly unhelpful at times. Techno inhaled, squaring his shoulders.
“Right, Ranboo. I can get you home now, if that’s what you’d like. I just— Uh. I just needed to get the potions to you as efficiently as I could, once I found you all sick and stuff. You know how it is. Didn’t mean to kidnap you or anything.”
Ranboo blinked, staring down at the cape around his shoulders. He kept doing that. It was, frankly, confusing. Techno had a few guesses as to why, but it hurt his head to try and puzzle out which one was most accurate, so he wouldn’t.
“Well, I, uh.” Ranboo paused again, tails swishing nervously at the base of the bed. “Um. I think, maybe, I’d like to stay here for a while, if that’s alright with, uh, with you. Mhm. Yep.” He nodded to himself, and Techno couldn’t tell if he was still loopy from the fever, or if this was just Normal Ranboo Behavior. He focused on the confusion instead of the strange warmth blossoming in his chest at the fact that Ranboo preferred to stay here instead of at his own house. He wasn’t touched. Nope, not in the slightest. This wasn’t touching. His heart was not warmed. Not at all.
“Yeah, sure, no problem, I don’t see why not,” he rambled, expressionless. Ranboo smiled a little, the swishing of his tails seeming a bit less agitated, now. The next words fell out of Techno’s mouth with a bit too much genuineness for his liking. “I mean, supposedly I’m your mentor, right, so you’re, uh. You’re allowed over any time. That you’d like.”
They both paused, the invitation hanging in the air between them.
“Ah,” said Ranboo, ears pinned to his head in embarrassment.
“Yep,” said Techno, suddenly very interested in looking at the Channel Bell.
There was a prolonged, awkward silence.
HAHA WHY’D YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT
Guys I’m gonna cry look they’re bonding
Technodad! Technodad! Technodad!
TECHNODAD MOMENT
Two socially awkward hybrids walk into a room...
Technodad
Sonboo
They look so flustered /p
Can we keep the kid please
Technosoft
Technodad!
Technodad! Technosoft! Technodad!
“Well, then,” Techno said, clearing his throat loudly. He backed away, towards the ladder, putting his foot on the first rung. “Nice seeing you and all. I’m just gonna… Yeah.”
~
Ranboo watched as Techno started to climb down the ladder, heart in his throat. He set the stew on the ground, not sure he could stomach it right now. He still felt dizzy, head spinning with the aftereffects of fever and potions. Maybe the haze in his mind was why he ended up speaking.
“Uh, Techno, wait, actually—” Techno froze, hand outstretched to grab the next rung. The words were tumbling out of Ranboo’s mouth before he could think. “Act— Actually, uh, could you...stay?”
“...Heh?”
And ah, yes, this was a mistake. Phenomenal! The shock on Techno’s face was enough to make Ranboo cringe in on himself, rolling the edge of the cloak between his fingers. The words kept coming, regardless, as he frantically tried to right his mistake through an ever-growing sleepy haze.
“I mean, you don’t have to, of course. It’s your, uh, it’s your house. It’s just that, well, I’ve been sort-of-kind-of very alone and I don’t really remember how long it’s been and I appreciate your company and I, uh— Uh, well, I, uh, don’t really feel like being alone right now, all things considered, but— But, uh, you know what!” He clapped his hands together, paw pads chafing a bit, staring off into the corner of the room. “You just, yeah, you just go on ahead, actually, I’ll be fine. Your house, after all, and I am sick, wouldn’t want you, uh—”
He cut himself off as Techno sat down on the bed beside him, the poor thing creaking under their combined weights. Techno grabbed Ranboo’s shoulders gently, shaking him a bit, but he didn’t try to meet Ranboo’s eyes, staring off into the distance behind him instead. For that, Ranboo was eternally grateful.
“Ranboo. Listen. You’re rambling.”
“Mhm, yep. Yep. Sure am. I think, uh, that I will stop...now…” He trailed off, picking at some threads on the blanket beneath him. Techno sighed, letting go of his shoulders, but he didn’t move from the bed. Ranboo hazarded a glance at the piglin’s expression, finding it oddly fond. He was probably just still tired. Yep. That had to be it. He looked away.
“Ranboo,” Techno repeated, sounding somehow awkward, annoyed, and…endeared...? at the same time. “It’s gonna be alright. Take a breath. You with me?” Ranboo nodded, itching at the side of his face absently, limbs feeling much like spaghetti. “Great. I can stay here if you want.”
“Really?” Ranboo mumbled, wincing a bit as his newly sore muscles twinged. Techno patted his shoulder again, nodding awkwardly.
“Yep. Since you asked so nicely, of course. Even I’m not immune to good manners. Really, all you had to do was ask, especially considering I brought you here to begin with...” Though his voice was monotone and dry, Ranboo could hear the humor in it. He found himself curling up against Techno’s side, eyes drooping now that he was warm, and comfortable, and safe, and home…
It wasn’t long before he was out, Techno’s rumbling, even tone lulling him to sleep as he continued to talk. Eventually, Technoblade glanced down at the kid, surprised to find him completely unconscious. His chin was tucked against his chest, shoulders curling into Techno’s side. His mouth was just barely open, lightly snoring. Techno froze, not entirely sure what to do. When he said he’d stay, he didn’t exactly mean he would let the kid sleep on him, but…
His mind flashed back to earlier, when he’d set Ranboo down on the bed to begin with. He’d made such a sad noise when Techno let go of him. He didn’t think he cared to hear that noise again.
Techno’s eyes shifted to the ground, where a still-full bowl of stew sat. Of course. The kid didn’t even have the courtesy to eat his food before falling back asleep, on top of Techno no less. He took back what he said about his good manners, Ranboo was a rude houseguest.
Still, he didn’t find that he minded, really. That was an odd development. Of course, all that talk about manners had been nothing but a sarcastic joke, but, reasonably, he should still be irritated about everything that had happened today. He wasn't, though. In fact, he was pretty sure he was feeling the opposite of irritated. Chat kept chanting Technosoft and Technoprotect, anyways, no longer calling for rage or blood. Techno ignored the other chants they were tending towards today, ears angling against his head in something like embarrassment. He was not a dad. He’d leave the whole adoption thing to Phil. Yes, he was like a mentor to Ranboo, but that was it. A purely professional relationship.
Yeah, that’s why he’s napping at your side right now. On your bed. In your house.
Very professional, very professional indeed
Just admit you care about him!
Tsundereblade
Technodaaaaad
Technodad
You can’t run from the truth, Technoblade!
You have a son now, how does it feel
To be fair, he is more like a student or a ward or a friend than a son. We didn’t raise him.
Sonboo
I would die for this kid
Ranson
Technodad
We can’t die, Technoblade never dies. Could kill for him though
E e e e e e e e e e
Embrace fatherhood, Mr. the Blade
Techno resisted the urge to roll his eyes, shifting both him and Ranboo into a more comfortable position as the latter slept. He could get up and move. There was nothing stopping him. Yes, Ranboo had asked him to stay, but he was asleep now. The thought was hardly more than a vague musing in the back of his head. Techno didn’t have any urgent tasks to take care of, and he was a man of his word. He’d said he would stay, so he would. (He didn’t really want to leave, either. This notion unsettled him briefly, and he did not dwell on it.)
The attic was warm, and the cool air filtering in from outside smelled fresh and crisp. Beside him, Ranboo’s swaddled form pressed a comforting weight against his side. With nothing to do but sit, and wait, surrounded by comfort and the security of his own home, Techno found his own eyes drooping.
He was asleep within the hour.
---
“TEEEECH,” shouted Phil amiably, tossing his stuff haphazardly near the entrance to the man’s house. “YOU HOME?”
Huh. No answer. There was still smoke curling from the chimney, though, and Techno wasn’t stupid enough to leave a fire going unattended. He hadn’t been outside, from what he’d seen. Phil ruffled his charred wings and started climbing up the ladder.
“Mate? You up here?” No answer on the second level, so he kept climbing. “Technooo— Oh.”
Phil’s head popped out of the attic floor, attention quickly landing on the sight in front of him. Technoblade was sleeping. Not only was Technoblade sleeping, but Ranboo was there. Also sleeping. And covered by Techno’s cloak, by the look of things. The young ender hybrid was snuggled securely against Technoblade’s chest, mouth half-parted in his drowsy state, and to top it all off, Techno’s arm was gently wrapped around him, holding him firmly in place. Phil let a knowing, fond smile grace his lips.
“Sorry, mate. I’ll let you rest, then.”
And the avian climbed back downstairs.
(When both parties woke up, later, Phil would be sure to tease them both about the vulnerable moment, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Technoblade would vehemently deny the notion, grimacing as Chat no doubt bombarded him about it, but he, too, had a lightness to his expression. Ranboo, still drowsy, would simply keep his thoughts to himself—that it had been nice, that he had felt safe, that all of his mind was still murmuring home, home, home. His content smile would go uncommented on by the older pair, but not unnoticed. Eventually, Philza would make some tea, and berate them both for their irresponsibility in the blizzard, while Techno stoked the fire, and Ranboo chimed in with the occasional joke. If Techno was still noticeably cloakless, and Ranboo still clung to the comforting weight around his shoulders, no one would mention it. The home was cozy, the night grew dark, and the three friends spent it away in comfortable camaraderie.)
(All was well.)