Work Text:
“This,” Tommy declares, “looks like a place that I would get murdered.”
And he’s right, too- the cabin is very secluded, surrounded by tall pines and thick woods and dusted with the light powder of snow that’s been falling on and off since he and Wilbur got into the car. Wilbur, a bit behind him because he's carrying the bags, laughs.
"We're not gonna murder you Toms," He reassures. "Though it would be a great place for a film. Or a music video."
"Sleepy boys Christmas album coming soon," Tommy nods. Nodders, he thinks. Do normal people think in Twitch emotes? Probably not. "Lead singer Wilbur Soot, Technoblade on guitar, Phil on the saxophone."
"Saxophone?" Wilbur repeats, trudging up the path to the front door. "What kind of band is this? What instrument are you playing?"
"I'll do interpretive dance."
Wilbur turns all the way around just to stare at Tommy. "You're insane."
Tommy shrugs. "I'm a millionaire."
"Okay, I changed my mind, I'm murdering you out here, definitely. First thing tonight."
"Wilbur! Don't fucking joke about that! I will just die if you murdered me!"
…
"Tech-no-blade!" Tommy cheers when they're both inside.
He hops forward and leaps into the taller man's arms, letting himself be caught and held tightly.
"Tommy-In-it." Technoblade mocks, smiling as Tommy wiggles, trying to hug all of him. "Happy holidays. You are short."
Tommy pulls away. "Suddenly I hate you. I'm leaving this stupid secluded cabin."
Wilbur comes in from behind, having put their bags upstairs. He leans on Tommy like he's an arm rest, laying his chin on the top of his head and grinning. "Doesn't he just get shorter every time we see him?"
"I swear he's shrinking right before my eyes," Techno nods, ignoring Tommy's enraged spluttering. "Little Tommyinnit. Soon you'll be shorter than Philza Minecraft."
"Just as short as he is old," Wilbur hums.
Tommy thinks he misses the days when he was an only child. Not really, because he loves them, but you know, for the bit of it all.
"I'm only going to talk to Phil this whole vacation," Tommy promises, pulling himself away from Wilbur. Wilbur pulls him back, apologizing with a grin. Tommy huffs, feigning annoyance, but letting Wilbur cling on.
"Where is Phil anyway?" He asks.
Technoblade, who is watching the two of them fondly, huffs. "Phil is going around, checking to make sure the cabin is all good. No dead bodies and the like."
" Why-" Tommy bites, "are you both trying to make me think I'm going to be killed!"
Techno and Wilbur exchange a look over Tommy's head. Wilbur smiles, shrugging, squeezing Tommy tighter.
"Older brothers," Wilbur hums. "What can you do?"
Tommy flushes. "Die, apparently. Let me go you clingy bastard. Find Philza Minecraft so he can protect me from the lurking murderers."
…
Phil materialized from down under the cabin only ten minutes later. There were cobwebs and dust bunnies in his hair, but his hug was still just as nice, if a bit sneeze-inducing.
"Good drive up?" He asks Wilbur when he lets the man go. "No bad weather?"
"I think it's supposed to snow later in the month, but all it did was- wait, what's- hold on, what's the snow equivalent of drizzling?"
Tommy creeps over to the couch and gingerly sits next to Technoblade, who's absently scrolling on his phone. He peeks up when Tommy sits though, and shifts, a silent invitation for Tommy to scoot closer.
"I think you can just say drizzling," Phil is saying. "It's all water, anyway."
"Well, if that was the case then we'd call snow frozen rain, Phil."
"Some people do!"
"Who?"
"Me," Technoblade says dryly, even though Tommy has never ever heard him call snow frozen anything before. He's grinning, though he's very good at keeping the sound of it out of his voice. "I love frozen rain, Wilbur. I love it when it drizzles."
"Technoblade, you are not immune to the cabin murderers."
"I think the word is flurry," Phil says, and Tommy knows if he were to peek back, he'd see Phil looking down at his phone, brow furrowed. "The snow was just coming down in flurries."
"Isn't that the awful American ice cream treat?"
Tommy scoots over, tucking himself next to Technoblade. Techno hums, then wraps his arm around Tommy's shoulders, scrolling on his phone with one hand to accommodate.
"Excited to deal with this for another four weeks?" Techno whispers.
"Very," Tommy says honestly, snuggling in. Of course he's excited- how could he not be? He's here with family.
...
When Phil said they should set up the tree in the den, Tommy was not picturing this.
Technoblade was standing there, next to the barren tree, boxes and boxes of half opened Christmas decorations strewn all around him. But, more than that, he was entangled in red beads and stands of lights. He looked like a Christmas tree himself in all honesty.
"How did this happen?" Wilbur asks, awed, reaching out to pull at a line of lights. When he lets them go, they spring right back into place, like they're tied to Technoblade.
"I...don't know." Techno admits. And the whole entire scene makes Tommy want to laugh so hard he spits. He can't help but feel that would be rude somehow, so he simply takes out his phone and snaps a photo- Technoblade, the Christmas tree.
"Alright, we can untangle you." Wilbur says, walking around Technoblade, looking at him like he's an extremely difficult math problem.
Uh oh, Tommy should probably leave before he's-
"Toms!" Wilbur says and Tommy tries not to groan out loud. "Technoblade has decorated himself! Come make fun of him for me."
"I thought you said you'd be untangling me," Technoblade huffs.
"Yes, I will. Tommy, however, will be acting as my deep-seated desire to make fun of you for this- he will be milking all the comedy out of the situation for the near future, as I cannot."
"I hate you both."
Wilbur grins, then takes the star, and puts it on Technoblade's head. Tommy snaps another photo.
…
Eventually, they get Technoblade out, when Phil comes out of the kitchen and helps direct Techno on where to turn and how to step so they can keep all the lights and beads intact.
"Is there a manual somewhere on shit like this?" Tommy asks. "Like, when you get older do you just learn how to do shit like untangle people from Christmas lights?"
"Get older and you'll find out," Wilbur snips, then reaches over and wraps a line of red beads around Tommy's shoulders like a really wank cloak.
"Phil," Tommy whines, letting Wilbur reel him in closer, so they're hugging. "Wilbur's being a bitch."
"Nothing new then," Technoblade says quietly, from where he's kneeling by the box of baubles, and Wilbur growls. Like, actually growls, like a fucking dog or some shit.
"To answer your question Toms," Phil sighs in the most fond exasperation Tommy's ever heard, "I guess you could say that you learn this stuff when you get older- that's what experience is, yeah?"
"When I level up and gain enough XP, I'll finally be able to defeat the big boss of tangled Christmas lights."
Wilbur laughs, sharp and right by Tommy's ear, in a way that Tommy knows he'll be in the Quote book again.
"Can you guys hurry up and gain enough XP to help me sort these ornaments?" Techno asks.
"Let me see, mate," Phil squats down next to Techno. He begins to help sort through the box, and as usual, Wilbur and Tommy fall into step next to him- sitting down side by side, cross legged on the floor to help.
“Sonic bauble, oh my god,” Tommy says when he fishes bright blue out of the box.
Wilbur squints. “Tommy, you dumbass, that’s the TARDIS.”
“The fuckin’ what?”
“Oh my god, stop sorting right now, we are making Tommy watch Doctor who.”
“Start with nine or else you suck,” Technoblade informs, quite unhelpfully, if Tommy must say. Tommy liked him better when he was a decorated Christmas tree.
“We can watch Doctor Who when the tree is done- Wil, come help me figure out these lights.”
…
The tree eventually does get set up.
It almost falls twice- once because Wilbur is a clumsy fuck and another because Techno almost tipped it trying to find a place to plug in the lights. But when it's done and steady and upright, it looks beautiful. There are red beads and bright yellow lights and pretty baubles scattered through the branches. They couldn't figure out the tinsel, so it's sort of just strewn about, but Tommy thinks it looks really nice- ten out of ten Christmas tree.
"We're almost done," Phil says, reaching into the box. Tommy frowns. Phil straightens and in his hand is the little tree topper star. "The star needs to go on top."
Technoblade squints up at the very top of the tree. "I don't think we can put it on without tipping the tree again."
"No, no, we can!" Wilbur says cheerily. "Tommy can!"
Tommy makes a face. "Just earlier you lot were making fun of my height and now you're greatly overestimating it. I'm not gonna be able to reach up there by myself."
"Luckily then," Phil walks over and puts the star into Tommy's hands, "you're not alone."
In the end, Tommy climbs onto Technoblade's shoulders and allows himself to be hoisted up to the top of the tree. He teeters dangerously for a bit and so does the tree, but he eventually gets the star on the top-most branch and is carefully lowered to the ground.
"Did I do good?" Tommy asks, frowning a bit at the star's crookedness.
Technoblade nods, reaching over to ruffle Tommy's hair. "You did it perfectly."
...
"Okay," Phil says seriously, "this is very, very important. We are going to get this done, but- we're going to be orderly about it. No mucking about. We are looking for results."
They all stare for a moment.
"Phil, we're baking cookies," Technoblade says. "This isn't a boot camp."
Phil rolls his eyes. "Listen, salmonella is everywhere. Death is waiting."
"Who is salmon Ella?" Tommy asks, creeping forward and swiping a frosting container off the counter. He pops the top off and is about to stick his finger inside when Phil grabs it out of his hand.
"Nope, nope, you," Phil says pointedly, "are not allowed in the kitchen or near anything that isn't completely baked."
Tommy pouts but moves so he's sitting at one of the tall chairs against the kitchen island. A perfect vantage point to watch.
"You two, on the other hand," Phil continues, "are more than welcome to help bake them. Tommy, you can decorate."
"Oh, ho-ho," Tommy goes, grinning like he's feral. "I am going to draw so many dicks."
"Dick cookies?" Technoblade sighs. "I thought the holidays were supposed to be family friendly ."
…
It only took a minimum of ten minutes but Phil was already looking stressed out of his mind.
Tommy would feel sympathy, but he's still stuck at the island, so. If he was over there and helping, then maybe he could've shown off his cookie baking skills, but no, apparently Sal-mon-El-a was a thing that Tommy needed to worry about.
"Okay, so, do we need to put foil on the pan? Like, really?" Wilbur is asking, pulling way too much foil out of the box.
"Stop, stop!" Phil takes the box from him. Wilbur blinks. "Yes, we do. We do need the foil, but not-" Phil rips off what he deems adequate, "-the whole box."
He gives the box to Techno and then goes about putting the foil down.
"Should I preheat the oven then Phil?" Techno asks.
Phil nods. "And I'll get the flour, butter, and eggs."
"I can get the vanilla extract!" Wilbur says. Tommy watches gleefully when he grabs the complete wrong thing then turns and winks Tommy.
Oh. Ha.
Tommy was already smiling, but knowing the destruction and chaos to come was purposeful on Wilbur's part, well, that was almost more delicious than the cookies would be.
Sure enough, just three seconds later-
"Wilbur, what the fuck. This is salt. Are you insane?”
“Oh,” Wilbur goes, and he’s dreadfully good at sounding confused. “I thought- oh.”
Unfortunately, Phil knows him well enough by now. “Wilbur Soot, get out of my kitchen right now.”
And that's how Wilbur and Tommy end up on decorating duty together. The cookies with dicks drawn on them were the absolute best.
…
They sneak out at some point in the middle of the week.
Technoblade bundles him up, making sure Tommy has a hat and gloves even though it's only doing those little flurries outside. Together they steal away to the car, and the second they're both inside, Techno flicks the heat on.
"Okay so it's been agreed that we can't tell them that we forgot to get presents right?" He asks.
Tommy nods furiously, pulling his fingers out of Phil's stolen gloves and holding them up to the car heating vents. "They would fucking die on the spot, Tech, I mean, Wil would get those big sheep eyes that he makes- you know the ones?"
"His eyes do look suspiciously like a sheep's." Technoblade says absently. "Alright. To the nearest mall for last minute shopping. What could possibly go wrong?"
...
A lot, actually.
Tommy realizes halfway into their impromptu shopping trip that he has no fucking clue what to get them. What does he get for three people who have not only changed his life, but continue to do so consistently every day and show no signs of stopping anytime soon?
"Okay, so we don't spoil each other, we can head separate ways and meet back here in an hour, alright?"
Tommy nods.
Technoblade hesitates. "Are you sure you'll be alright, kid? You look- pale. Paler than usual."
"Fuck off." Tommy says. And even to his own ears he sounds very streamer-persona, so he can't imagine what kind of bells he's ringing for Techno. "I'm fine, sorry. Just- an hour, yeah? Right here?"
Techno nods. "Right here. We can do more if you need time, but just to check in and make sure you haven't been murdered."
"I'm banning all mentions of murder for the rest of this holiday trip." Tommy huffs.
"We aren't your Twitch chat."
"Oh? Then why are you muted?"
Technoblade raised an eyebrow before slowly turning and walking away. Tommy watches him go blinking.
"Wait, Techno. Techno, you'll pick up the phone if I'm getting murdered right? Technoblade?"
…
Tommy finds a lot of things that could work.
There is a tiny mindfulness gardening set, a box set of old musicals, a candle making kit- all sorts of things.
It's just- is any of it actually good?
He doesn't want to get them gifts that they have to pretend to like. He doesn't want them to open presents and feel the need to smile even though they don't like what's there. He wants them to be able to tell just how much they mean to him.
Before he knows what he's doing, he's taking out his phone and dialing Techno's number.
"Hullo? If you aren't getting murdered, I'm gonna be severely disappointed."
"Um, no. I'm- uh- I'm not. Getting murdered, that is." Tommy stumbles.
Technoblade pauses. "You alright, kid? You sound like you're about to seize up."
"I'm okay, I just- how do I know if what I'm picking out is good?"
"Oh. Well, Tommy, we're gonna like whatever you get us. It's from you. And maybe that's all sappy, but it's true. Phil would tell you that you're the real gift. I'm not gonna tell you that, because I like presents, but-"
Tommy giggles.
"There you go," Technoblade says approvingly. "A bit of laughter. This is supposed to be fun, kid. So don't stress about it. We'll love you regardless, take my word for it."
"Okay, Tech. Thanks."
"Of course- but, you know, if you happen to get Wilbur an awful gift, then-"
" Bye, Technoblade. Bye."
...
Tommy wakes up to pure white.
Outside his window is almost blinding- the previously patchy ground is covered in a neat thick fresh layer of white, and all the trees and bushes look painted over. It's beautiful, and it fills Tommy with a very distinctly childlike joy- like he’s ten again, and he knows that there’ll be no school.
He throws off his blankets and runs down the hall, into the well-lit living room, careening right into Technoblade, who is drinking his morning coffee. Techno stumbles, juggling the coffee and then steadying Tommy with his free hand.
“Tommy,” Techno sighs. Tommy bounces on his toes. “Good morning.”
“Techno, Techno, Tech- look outside, have you looked outside?”
Technoblade’s lip twitches. He hides it behind his half empty coffee cup. “Have I looked outside? No, I can’t say that I have.”
“Well- turn, look, look!” Tommy exclaims urgently. Technoblade takes another long sip of his drink. He hums. “Tech-no-blade. Look. Turn your big fat head-”
“Oh?” Techno says, openly smiling now, resisting Tommy’s little shoves and attempts for Tommy to turn him. “Now that’s just hurtful, kid. You’ve hurt me. I’ve got to go get my head reduction surgery scheduled now and it’s because of you.”
“Blade,” Tommy whines and Techno chuckles, then finally turns, stepping over to the double glass patio doors outlooking the field of white. Tommy follows, eyes shining as he takes it all in- the pure white, the quiet stillness.
“It’s beautiful,” Techno says. “The first real snow.”
“Yeah. I- is it weird that I still want to go out in it?” Tommy asks, weirdly self-conscious all of a sudden. Technoblade frowns at him like he’s confused. “Like, I’m eighteen now. I’m not- I mean, God, this stuff shouldn’t be so exciting still, should it?”
Technoblade opens his mouth, but he’s cut off by an excited shout from the hall. They both turn and Wilbur comes running out, eyes big, nearly tripping over his blanket, his hair a mess.
“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy- it snowed, it snowed!” He chants, grabbing Tommy’s shoulders and spinning the both of them in a tight little circle. “We have to go out- build a snowman that looks like Philza Minecraft. Please, Tommy, please.”
Tommy looks over at Technoblade.
“Does that answer your question?” He huffs, raising his glass to them both as Wilbur pulls Tommy away.
…
“Scarf and hat and gloves and snow boots,” Phil lists. “All of them or no snow.”
“Phil, you are a bitch.” Tommy says. Phil glares. Tommy quickly zips his coat all the way up.
“If you make a snow man of me,” Phil continues, opening his book on his lap, “I will post the photo of you two cuddling on Instagram. I will tag you. I won’t ever take it down.”
Wilbur sticks his tongue out at Phil. Then absently reaches over to fix Tommy’s scarf, making sure he’ll be warm. Tommy flushes, biting down a grin. Wilbur leans down and whispers, “We’re building a Techno snowman.”
Tommy nods furiously, then shoots Phil the most innocent grin he has in his arsenal.
Phil just sighs.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Wilbur pulls Tommy to the door. “Come on, snow, snow.”
Wilbur unlocks it, and they get under the front awning, eyes turning wide at the still falling snowflakes. Tommy creeps forward, peeking down at the fresh blanket of snow, just waiting to be stepped on.
“Go on Toms,” Wilbur says. When Tommy turns, he’s watching Tommy with the most fond expression- it's so personal that Tommy feels like he shouldn’t be seeing it. “You can have the first step.”
“You sure?” Tommy asks. “You were the one really excited about it.”
Wilbur shakes his head, his eyes still shining. “Excited to be with you, man. Snow, rain, heat. Whatever.”
“Tornado?”
Wilbur snorts. “Tommy, if you think you would last two seconds in a tornado, then you’re wrong.”
Tommy pouts, and then Wilbur shoos him along. “First step in the first snow. Go on.”
Tommy sighs, biting down his smile. He turns back and raises his boot over the snow. When he drops it down, there's a satisfying crunch and he sinks until he's shin deep in the cold.
"Ooo." He shivers, excited. "It's deep." He takes another step, letting his other foot sink down too. He giggles a bit, then goes to waddle out further into the cold.
It's even more beautiful up close- the gentle snowfall that comes when the wind rustles the trees, the silence that makes the whole world feel like a pretty glass dome, the peace and-
Something hits Tommy in the back.
Tommy turns to see Wilbur, shin deep in the snow, blinking innocently, his gloved hands behind his back.
"What the fuck?" Tommy goes.
Wilbur blinks. "What's wrong, Tommy? What's going on?"
"You just hit me with a snowball!"
"No, no, that doesn't sound like something I would do."
"And now you're gaslighting me!"
Wilbur tsks disapprovingly. "I would never."
Tommy reaches down, bundles together some snow, and tosses it at Wilbur. It hits him in the shoulder and makes the man shriek in laughter. Pretty soon, they're both digging in the snow, tossing it at each other, running and dodging and laughing. Tommy gets hit in the chest and Wilbur takes a snowball to the nose, and that makes him stop, then leap at Tommy, tackling him to the ground in the snow bank.
"Wil!" Tommy yells, delighted. "Ah! You-"
Wilbur rolls over him, packing him further into the snow. "Die gremlin! Die!"
Tommy wiggles, kicking Wilbur in the legs. "Get off of me, you tall bastard! You fuckface! Move! You're killing me!"
Wilbur laughs and lays back, splaying out his arms and looking up at the sky. Tommy, under him, stops wiggling, and sighs, annoyed and resigned to being crushed.
"This is not how you make snow angels, Wilbur," Tommy informs. "This is how you make flat people. You are turning me into a damn pancake."
"This is how you make snow angels." Wilbur insists. "You're my little snow angel, oo-"
Tommy kicks him again- this time hard enough for him to wiggle free and grab a handful of snow to dump on his brother's stupid face.
…
Needless to say, they don't get around to building the snowman.
…
When they're both sufficiently wet, they head back inside to warm up. Phil groans when he sees them and helps them both out of their coats and boots, then directs Tommy- who is covered in snow- towards the shower.
When Tommy comes out, he's warm and clean and the whole cabin feels like a nice toaster. There's Christmas music playing, and Wilbur and Technoblade are both sitting on the floor at the coffee table playing a board game- one of those really nerdy ones with the complicated cards and weird characters that Tommy can never win. They've both got mugs though, and when Tommy comes over and sits next to Phil on the couch, he hands Tommy his.
"Are you warm, mate?" Phil asks.
Tommy takes a sip, letting the heat spill down his throat and into his belly. He hums happily, then puts the cup down, slumping into Phil's side.
"Warmer now," Tommy says, and Phil tugs him closer. Tommy sighs, content, the most warm and comfortable he's been during any Christmas ever.
"Love you," he says sleepily.
Phil carefully, caringly, brushes Tommy's hair off his forehead. "We love you too, Tommy."
…
Tommy feels like a buzzing bee.
"It's Christmas, it's Christmas!" He cheers, bouncing out of his room so fast that he almost hits the wall. "Wake up!"
He stops at Wilbur's closed door and only hesitates for a second before banging on the wood. He doesn't stop knocking until the doorknob turns, so he guesses he deserves it when Wilbur hits him with a pillow.
"Shut up, small child."
Tommy splutters, then knocks the pillows aside. "Fuck you, happy Christmas! Come on, come on, come on, I want presents!"
Wilbur, tired as all hell, still smiles fondly. "You are a menace upon the world. I don't know what presents you think are there for you, but I know I didn't get you anything."
"Lying on Christmas is the same thing as kicking babies, Wil," Tommy grabs Wilbur's arm and tugs. "Get your tall ass in the living room."
Wilbur chuckles, then lets Tommy pull him out of his room and down the hall. Phil is up, in the kitchen, making tea, and Technoblade is blinking at the coffee mug in front of him like he wished it was his pillow.
"Morning Tommy," Phil greets, smiling.
"Hi Phil, I- woah. " Tommy's eyes go wide when he catches sight of the tree. There are tons and tons of presents under it- way too many to just be the four of them. "What the fuck?"
"Uh, yeah," Technoblade speaks up. " Someone here doesn't know how to limit their spending."
Tommy swivels around and looks at Wilbur, who is bright red. "What the hell was I gonna do? Not spend a shit ton of money on you guys? I don’t think so."
"Well," Phil puts down his tea mug. "I guess we better start now or else we'll be here all day."
Tommy does not need to be told twice. He zooms over, situating himself next to the presents under the tree. The three of them follow at various speeds. Tommy has a feeling that Technoblade is just going slow to piss him off, quite honestly.
Wilbur sits across from him on the floor, grinning. "Who's going first?"
"I can," Phil offers. He reaches down and pulls out the most perfectly wrapped gifts. Like, handmade bows and personalized wrapping paper and all. "Here you go. Three gifts for my three boys."
Tommy flushes, tugging his gift closer. Wilbur is already tearing into his, and he pauses when he gets to brown fur.
"Phil- is this a stuffed anteater?"
Phil's grin widens and Tommy bursts into wild laughter. Wilbur just stares at the toy in disbelief.
"Now that’s a great gift," Techno declares, still carefully unwrapping his own.
"You know what?" Wilbur huffs. "I'm naming him Frank. I will grow to adore him. Tommy, stop laughing."
Tommy snorts uncontrollably, tearing up. "I can't- you- and the- Phil, and - Frank-" he dissolves into more laughter and Wilbur can't help but to smile at him.
"Thank you, Phil," Wilbur says softly, watching Tommy gasp for breath. "The gift is great. I- I love him."
"Frank?" Phil asks.
Wilbur shrugs, eyes still on Tommy. "Sure. Frank. Right, yeah."
Technoblade chuckles knowingly. He finally finished carefully peeling the wrapping paper off, and pulls out his gift.
"They're paints," Phil explains. "For when you want to pick it back up again. I remember you saying how you stopped because you started doing YouTube and stuff, but I think you could keep doing it. Even if it's just for yourself."
"Oh," Technoblade blinks rapidly. "I- thank you, Phil. Thank you."
"Course, mate. And I'm not saying I'd hang your first painting up on my fridge, but-"
Techno tilts his head. "Well, I guess my first painting better be good, then."
Tommy can't wait any longer, and tears into his gift. It's a bit heavy, so he exercises restraint, and when he gets the final layer of wrapping paper off, his eyes widen. In his lap, he can see his reflection in the rounded glass ball, but past that he can see flakes of white dusting on a little cottage.
"It- it looks like our cottage," Tommy says softly, eyes huge.
"Yeah," Tommy looks up at Phil. "I know you're a sentimental guy- even if you don't like to admit it- and you like to have mementos to remember good times in your life. I hope that this Christmas has been good enough to want to remember. That we've made it special enough for you to covet."
"It has," Tommy whispers, pulling the snowglobe closer to his chest. "I- I love it. It's beautiful. Thank you."
"Aw, sweetheart," Wilbur cooes, leaning forward on his knees to press a kiss to Tommy's forehead. Tommy swats him away, flushing. "Time for my gifts. Time for you to open mine."
Wilbur shoves about ten packages at Tommy, and Tommy blinks at them all.
"Go, go, go," He urges. Tommy opens them all- there's all sorts of things for him, stuffed toys and candy and new sweatshirts. It's as if Wilbur went to the shops and spent the whole day getting things just for Tommy at every store he went to. Everytime Tommy opens another gift, Wilbur's smile gets softer, as if giving him gifts is fulfilling to him. As if making Tommy burst with joy, is one of Wilbur's favorite things to do.
"You got me too much shit," Tommy says, looking around at his bounty. "I'm- how am I gonna get this home?"
"I'll help you, kid," Technoblade laughs. "Wilbur's got too much money for his own good."
Wilbur lifts his nose. "He deserves it."
"Hey, no complaints from me. I'll go next, if Wilbur's done being soft." Technoblade stands, then goes around the tree to pull out a brand new guitar. Electric and orange- beautiful.
Wilbur's jaw drops. "What the fuck, Tech, you-"
"They didn't have teal when I went to look," Technoblade says awkwardly. "But I remember you saying that you like orange and so-"
"I do," he breathes. "I do. I love it, Tech. I- this is beautiful."
"The Technoblade millionaires came through," Techno admits. "And Phil-" Technoblade pulls put a plainly wrapped package and gives it to Phil. "Here you go."
Phil opens it and melts. "Oh, Techno- thank you." He pulls it out- a knitted sweater, dark green. "It's green, like-"
"Like the lore," Technoblade says quietly. "Friendship sweaters."
"Woah," Tommy says, hugging the zigzagoon plush that Wilbur got him to his chest. "Lore moment."
"Yeah, yeah, lore moment-" Technoblade reaches and pulls out another wrapped present. "Speaking of lore- here you go, kid."
Tommy catches the gift, and opens it, gasping when red fabric comes spilling out. It's plush and velvet, and on the other side- the inside- is pure fluff. It's almost exactly like-
"It's, uh, my character's cape as a blanket," Technoblade explains sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not perfect, cause they don't make Technoblade capes-"
"-Yet-" Wilbur cuts in, grinning.
"- But," Techno continues, "it's as close as I could get. I hope it's alright."
Tommy, with big eyes, pulls the blanket out of the paper, gasping as it just grows and grows and grows. It's almost as tall as Wilbur and Tommy doesn't hesitate to pull it around his shoulders and hunker in.
"Tech," Tommy squawks, awed. "This is- so soft. It's like- a hug. A hug wherever I go."
"Yeah. For when I go back home. You've still got me there with you." Technoblade moves to sit, but Tommy stands suddenly, the blanket falling off his shoulder. He runs into Techno, grabbing him as best he can.
Technoblade pauses, surprised, then softens, hugging him back.
"Thank you," Tommy whispers. From where Phil is sitting, there's the sound of a flashing camera, and he can hear Wilbur grumbling about not getting a hug for his presents, but Tommy doesn't care. "I love it."
"I'm glad." Technoblade takes a breath. "I love you."
Tommy's eyes widen, pulling away slightly to look up at the man. Techno's cheeks are colored and he looks sheepish, but he doesn't look away- he means it. "Oh," Tommy goes, abruptly tucking back against him. "I love you too."
Technoblade chuckles, then holds him for just a bit longer before running a hand through his hair. "Alright, kid. It's your turn."
Tommy pulls away, nervous all of a sudden. "Oh, um- okay. I've got- yes."
Wilbur's head tilts. "Don't be nervous, Toms. We're gonna love anything you get us."
"Now, you say that, but-"
"Phil got me a stuffed anteater, baby. Unless you've got a real anteater in there, then you are going to be fine. I promise."
Tommy hesitates for just one second more and then sighs. "Alright. If you say so." He bends down and pulls out his flat, colorfully wrapped package. He lugs it up and walks it over to Phil. "Here you go, Phil. For the bravest man."
Phil takes it and unwraps it, opening up a collection of connected picture frames, black and matte, but decorated in tiny little stickers- orcas and pigs and raccoons, hearts and stars and snowflakes. Inside the actual frames are pictures of them from their stay- Technoblade covered in Christmas lights, Wilbur covered in flour in the kitchen, Tommy asleep on Phil's shoulder, Wilbur pogging at his and Technoblade's finished puzzle, Tommy with a huge snowball sneaking up behind Wilbur, Technoblade with the orange electric guitar in his hands at the music store.
"I got the pictures all printed," Tommy says, fidgeting slightly. "I hope it's good enough- uh, if you don't like the photos you can change them out-"
"Tommy," Phil interrupts, eyes glossy. "Tommy, this is beautiful. I love this."
"Oh." Tommy laughs a bit, relieved. "Good. Um. Good, okay." More at ease now, he goes and gets Technoblade's gift, a gift bag. He pauses before handing it over, though. "I should- can I explain this first?"
Techno nods.
"Okay, okay, so- you might not remember, but we were on call one night when I needed help for my film project, and you started talking about wishes?"
"I remember," he says hesitantly. "The myth of wishing on stars, yeah."
"Well, I did some research-" Tommy holds out the bag, letting Technoblade take it gingerly. "Turns out you can make wishes by making paper cranes. Origami. I got you some origami paper, is what I'm trying to say, I guess. You like art and you're the type to do things with your hands, so I figured that this would be...nice."
Tommy watches as Techno takes out one of the many plastic wrapped squares of colorful paper. The man turns it over in his palm. "You- Tommy, that was months ago, how did you-"
"Remember?" Tommy fills in. "I dunno, we were talking, so I just- listened. I like listening to you talk, Tech."
Technoblade swallows. "You're...I'm- Tommy, I love it. This is the perfect gift. Thank you."
Tommy takes a breath. "Whew, nice. Nice, good. Great." He turns to Wilbur, who is watching, trying to pretend that he's not vibrating in excitement. "Okay, Wil, I actually got you two gifts."
"Nepotism," Phil murmurs. "It goes both ways."
"Hush, Phil." Wilbur hisses, then he beams. "I'm ready sunshine, lay it on me."
"Okay, the first gift is this," Tommy reaches under the tree and shoves a stuffed Orca at him. "Um. Pretty standard stuff."
Wilbur cooes. "Oh, I love it, Toms. You're adorable."
"Yes, well-" Tommy scratches the back of his neck. "That was like, my insurance gift. In case you didn't like the second one."
"What do you mean?"
"The second gift- which is really just a gift for myself- but, um. There's a New Years celebration that my family does every year. We all get together and do the sparklers and eat and watch movies." Tommy looks up, face warm. "I want you to be there. I'm inviting you."
Wilbur's expression stills. "You're inviting me to your family's holiday celebration?"
Tommy bites the inside of his cheek. "I- yes? I mean, if it's a bad idea, we can forget it, but you're- you're my family and I wouldn't feel... right not having you there."
Wilbur drops the orca and Tommy flinches. "Oh, it wasn't-" Tommy tries, regretful. "You don't have to-"
Then, he's being pulled into a hug. His mouth stalls, and then he slowly reaches up to hold Wilbur back. He's confused, until-
"You are a sweetheart,” Wilbur sniffles, holding Tommy tighter. Oh. Oh, Tommy did well, then. “You are a sweetheart and I adore you. The rest of you better get used to this because I am never ever letting him go. You’re stuck here with me, Tommy.”
Tommy laughs, letting all the tension ease out of his body. “Fine by me, Wil.”
“Um, not fine by me, actually,” Phil says, coming over. “I’m joining this forever-hug.”
Phil does, pulling the both of them against his chest, and Tommy hums happily. With his chin on Tommy’s head, Wilbur goes, “get over here Tech, you’re not allowed to get away from this.”
“Hold on,” Techno says. Then there’s the flash of the camera. “Alright. Done.”
Technoblade joins the hug on Tommy’s other side and Tommy feels so happy he could cry. This, he thinks, warm on all sides, is the real gift. The best gift.