Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Techno grumbled, shaking snow from his exposed lower legs, the vestiges of tracking through heavy layers of tundra wasteland.  

Those absolute nerds had threatened his horse- Carl! How could they threaten Carl? He was majestic. Dependable. The opposite of an orphan. 

He placed a hand on Carl’s mane, stroking gently. He took off the rudimentary tack that was cobbled from equipment left in the abandoned war room he had fled through. 

Techno settled Carl back into his stall, giving the well mannered horse a golden apple for his patience and demeanor. Carl loved them, and hopefully the healing effect would take care of any final remnants of the self proclaimed Butcher’s Army that had roused him from his retirement. 

Technoblade rolled his shoulders, and clopped up the wooden stairs. His house was in disarray, objects strewn from his hasty departure. Slowly Techno began settling his house back to rights. The silence almost felt eerie, as on guard as he was for the slightest disturbance, perhaps a trap left behind for him. 

Techno had just finished settling Edward, reassuring his roommate of the danger that had passed and pushing his boat back so he had a more optimal view of the window. Techno himself stared out his window, eating a golden carrot. The sun was setting, and through the light streaming over the mountains, Techno saw patches of darkness on his lawn. 

Curse them.

When the Butcher’s Army had attempted to ambush, they must have extinguished his torches, swallowing their embers in the snow. Monsters were already creeping closer, birthed from the deep. Techno watched as a patch of white broke apart, a skeleton long dead shaking itself to life from its frozen grave. 

He sighed. 

Finishing his carrots, Techno began to readjust the Netherite armor he wore, settling the straps firmly against his skin. The sunset was fully eclipsed by the horizon, and mobs were cropping  up by the dozens. 

Time for some good old stress relief. 

Technoblade bundled torches together and carefully loaded rockets into his belt. With a grin, Techno pushed open his front door, crushing and stunning the Zombie that stood behind it. 

Techno didn’t bother to say anything. Not even “Blood for the Blood God.” These simple creatures were unworthy foes,  they did not deserve a battle cry. 

Techno stood by the railing of his front porch and loaded the rocket launcher in front of uncomprehensive eyes. It wasn’t hard to aim. 

Boom.

There was joy to it, certainly. His tail might’ve started to wiggle a bit in delight, though he would never admit to such. The night lit up in bright colors, mobs dying in swaths under his attack. 

Techno stalked down onto the lawn and began staking torches. He didn’t bother to count or arrange them in a specific array right now, that could be done in the morning. What Techno cared about was going back to sleep. Soon. 

The lawn was cleared within the hour, and though Techno’s ears still rang faintly, he was excited to get back into the house and relax in his own bed. The past few nebulous days had been an ordeal. 

Techno stomps his hooves on his porch, shaking the snow off. He enters the door to Edward’s vwooping vocalization, and almost heads straight up the ladder before his eyes catch on a bright yellow shade, a touch too dirty to be gold. 

Techno freezes, turning, and sure enough, there’s Tommy. He’s laying on his couch. Could he not have heard Techno coming? The door slams with a gust of wind, and Tommy still doesn’t jolt. 

Techno rounds the couch warily, half expecting Tommy to be faking sleep and bolt while the door’s unguarded. Tommy’s eyes are open, but they aren’t looking at him, no they’re staring off into space. 

If this were any usual interaction, Techno would half expect Tommy to be rounding the house now, out the door and into the snow. They’d have a mild argument about Tommy being there, complete with weird childish jokes, and depending on how unhinged the boy was deciding to be that day, he’d either resign himself to pushing Tommy out in a week or the boy would take it upon himself to flee after being caught. 

If Tommy was being normal, that was. As is, Techno was decidedly caught off hoof. 

“Tommy?” Techno chances, hoping that the sound of his voice would shock him out of it. 

No response. 

“Tommy? What are you doing in my house, Tommy?” 

The boy keeps breathing, shoulders tight and eyes fixed on a slat of wood. 

Techno shifts his weight, before getting closer. “Tommy?” 

The boy’s eyes seem to catch the glint of his armor and he somehow manages to tense his body further, curling up in a pitiful shell on the couch. 

“Hey, nerd, what are you doing here? Couch crashing?” Techno asks, inching closer. “I thought you had a place of your own, living it up?” 

Tommy’s eyes wander a bit, as Techno’s form comes into frame. Those blue eyes, distant and dim, seem to catch on Techno’s hair and face. 

Chancing, Techno takes off his helmet, ears wiggling, slightly pulled back. 

Tommy’s frame relaxes, ever so slightly, eyes still caught up in the general pinkness of Techno’s head. 

“Tommy?” Just like that, some of the tension is back. “Nerd?” …and there it goes again. Huh. 

Techno shuffles away, and Tommy’s eyes, already glassy, grow wet and threaten tears.

Techno may be a warrior, servant of the Blood God, esteemed above all his kind, but a crying child? Absolutely not something he can deal with. No. That’s what Phil was built for, all soft feathers and gentle noises. 

It doesn’t feel quite right to shush someone who isn’t crying, but Techno scooches closer again and places a comforting hand on Tommy’s back, offering a pat or two, like he’s seen Phil do. 

The child before him (because Tommy was a child despite how his nation wanted to forget as such) sniffled, and kept staring at his face. The tears started to recede a little though, which was most of what Techno could ask for. 

This situation is weird. Everything about it, and Tommy’s certainly not spilling his secrets out here. Techno lifts his hand from Tommy’s shoulder, and the boy readjusts a bit. Techno places his hand on Tommy’s forehead, doing his best to check his temperature. Maybe he’s sick? 

Tommy’s forehead feels…. Cold? Ish? To Techno’s Netherbred hands. Techno doesn’t know anything about Human biology, okay. It’s probably fine? If it felt hot to Techno that would definitely be bad, but it doesn’t look like Tommy has a… Fervor? Feever? That. 

Tommy leans his head into the hand, eyes starting to flutter– and that. Techno thinks is a sign of comfort, or sleepiness. Phil does something similar sometimes, so it’s probably a good thing. 

Techno studies Tommy, laying on his couch with his limbs curled together, eyes tired, voice silent. He’s not devoid of movement, but he’s chosen a lazy disposition, focusing his eyes onto Techno’s face as much as possible, using simple sounds to communicate displeasure. 

It strikes him at once that he’s seen this before, felt this before. Phil’s son, Wilbur– he was a human piglet once, a baby. Not even weaned off milk. Phil tried to explain it to him, but it went over his head a lot, and didn’t seem too important then. Wilbur had also been drawn to faces, hands willing to grasp whatever you put near them. 

Techno pushed his hair away from Tommy’s grabbing range just in case. 

But– Tommy wasn’t a baby. At least, he wasn’t small and squishy the way human babies were. He was a child, what humans called their shoats, but he wasn’t treated like one. Phil had never done this sort of behavior, but Phil was an avian. Maybe Wilbur did it with Phil? 

Maybe humans had a baby mode or something, and it was really private. Phil talked to his son with adult language when he was a baby, and sometimes used baby language when he was an adult. Maybe their minds did a similar thing, and Techno had just never been close enough to one before to witness it. 

Still though, it lined up. Tommy was on his couch in baby mode. Piglet mode? Maybe? 

Techno still had no clue what to do. He was tired, and though Phil had been sending Techno packages to place in his other house in preparation for moving in, he hadn’t broken the cage yet to fly free. It wasn’t like Techno could pop over to L’Manburg and ask, nor did he particularly want to. 

If Techno dared to send Phil a comm message and this was totally normal or he’d gotten something confused, the old man would save the files for blackmail. It was his favorite hobby at this point, and Techno already owed him enough favors. No, he wouldn’t message about this. 

Okay, next step would be locating Tommy’s parental figure. Orphan? Says the cacophony of voices that he listens to on occasion. Ah. Right. 

Tommy didn’t have parents floating around him, nor had he ever mentioned any. No one brought it up. Techno knows that Wilbur and Tommy called each other brothers, and that Phil definitely didn’t help birth this one of the two. 

He’s heard Tommy call other people “dad” before, but it was entirely joking. Techno has seen him call the other shoats running around “dad.” Anyone who tried to even mildly be responsible was threatened with the term, though Techno hadn’t yet been on the receiving end of it, but he assumes (hopes) that Tommy would be chill with him stepping into the role. 

It’s daunting. 

Techno mostly just wants to sleep. Babies sleep, right? Often? 

Techno vaguely remembers Phil wrapping Wilbur up in a blanket so that he couldn’t move wrong and kill himself (as babies were prone to.) Techno casts a critical eye over Tommy. The kid’s bigger than that, but he comes up to the bottom of Techno’s ribs. One Techno sized blanket should be enough. 

Tommy starts pouting when Techno pulls away, eyes becoming glassy again, and Techno moves as quickly as he dares to the basement, grabbing an arctic fox. 

He uses one hand to straighten Tommy upright on his couch, placing the fox on the boy’s lap. Tommy seems content to stare at the little creature while Techno snatches a blanket from by the hearth. 

It’s warmed by the embers of the fire, which should be comforting, right? Techno gently lifts Tommy’s back away from the edge of the couch, wrapping the edge of the blanket around Tommy’s shoulders. 

The boy is captivated by the arctic fox climbing over his lap, sniffing at his hands. Still– he kept glancing up, jerking his head until his eyes caught on Techno’s face. An unidentifiable emotion arose in Techno’s stomach. He pushed it down, still tugging the blanket around Tommy’s shoulders. 

It was surprisingly difficult to do. He ended up loosely wrapping him, unable to get it much tighter without moving the kid entirely. It would have to do. He backed up slowly, watching Tommy’s face. The boy and his fox were wrapped up in the blanket, Tommy’s legs loosely covered and his head poking out. His head was ducked under and Techno watched as his hands rumpled the blanket, presumably playing with– was it Blitz he had under there? Techno hadn’t bothered to check. 

Tommy looked up, eyes unseeing, not even catching on the fireplace, before the fox caught his attention again…. Good enough. It would have to be good enough. 

Techno didn’t allow himself to glance back again as he walked over to the ladder, pulling himself into his room. He carefully pulled off as much armor as he dared, bending down to loosen the straps. 

He clambers into his den-like bed, snuffling at the sheets to confirm that no one had touched them. They smelt like home, netherrack and heat, with a touch of Phil’s cool wood. He settles in, pulling and pushing the blankets to his satisfaction. 

He’s settling down, eyelids heavy, but his mind won’t let him sleep. Time seems to stretch, minutes passing at the rate of hours. 

It seems like the sun should be arriving, but Techno knows less than an hour has passed. Edward starts vocalizing rapidly from downstairs, and Techno grumbles but pretends he isn’t jumping up to check on Tommy. 

He slips down the ladder to be greeted with the threat of tears again. Tommy has slumped off the couch, blanket falling loosely around his shoulders, the fox that Techno can now confirm is Blitz roaming around the upper floor he’d never been brought up into before. 

He sighs. Let’s pretend we didn’t know this was happening, he thinks, and walks over to the boy again. Tommy’s face is eerily blank, save for his eyes: brimming with tears and darting around rapidly. 

Techno walks closer and Tommy’s eyes dart, dart, then seem to catch on him. Those sad little blue eyes stare into the depths of his soul as Techno doesn’t freak out at all . Absolutely not. 

He goes to grab the blanket, finding Tommy limp, almost unable to control his limbs. As Techno lifts the blanket, slowly trying to reposition Tommy without touching him much, sometimes his legs will give a seemingly involuntary little jerk.  

Techno vaguely remembers a much smaller human doing the same thing before being able to walk. Totally human baby mode.  

He’s not getting much of anywhere. It doesn’t look like Tommy’s going to be getting up and walking, even with chiding, anytime soon. Technoblade slowly and carefully reaches around the boy’s shoulders, one hand grasping him under the hips. It’s not how he instinctively wants to carry a younger one around, but it’ll do. 

He stands up, waiting for Tommy to shriek, to cry, to make any sort of response really,  telling him that this was a bad idea. Tommy’s smaller stature came in handy, fitting the boy onto his frame pretty easily. Through his hand across the span of Tommy’s shoulders he could feel a rapid heartbeat. He froze, but it didn’t seem to be speeding up or getting worse, just high.  

A headache started forming, letting Techno know he had an absolute cacophony lighting up in his head if he cared to tune in. He didn’t. 

Techno carried the boy over to the ladder, then with a little maneuvering, held him close to his chest as they ascended. Still being slow and careful he lowered Tommy onto his den. Watching him carefully, he backed away down the ladder once more. 

Blitz was having a blitz of a time, but submitted to Techno picking him up pretty quickly, depositing him back in the basement with the other arctic foxes to pile over each other. 

Then, Techno made sure the fire would continue through the night, rearranging the logs. Edward vwooped. Yeah, he was stalling. 

Techno approached his den like there was an active wither up there. Popping his head up, he found a slightly more relaxed child blinking at him from the bed. No tears. Thank the blood god . 

Techno breathed in and out, looking at the shoat. No, not a shoat, child. Human child. 

Human. Techno needed to focus on that. 

He stepped closer, Tommy’s eyes following him.

“You just love looking at things, don’t you,” Techno muttered under his breath. Tommy didn’t respond, just kept pointing those blinkers right at him.  

He grabbed the blanket again, using one hand to pin it around Tommy’s back, then using his other to go around the boy’s torso, arms and all, tying them together more tightly. He left his legs free and slowly tipped the boy down, securing the blanket with his own body weight. Humans had to lay on their side or back, right? They definitely couldn’t be on their stomachs, or else they would suffocate. That seemed right, someone had told him that once.

Using the wall of his den, Techno propped Tommy up on his side. He then took a large pillow, placing it on the opposite side, keeping the boy in place. It would work, unless it slid in the middle of the night…

Techno laid down, back pressing up against the pillow, securing it in place as well. It would have to do. He was so incredibly tired at this point. 

The sound of breathing echoing his is unusual, but not foreign. It reminds Techno of his bastion from way back when. His eyes sink shut and he slips into sleep like he never had an issue to begin with. 

—

Techno’s eyes open blearily, feeling soft breaths disturb the fur on his chest. He looks down to find blue eyes looking right back at him, unperturbed by their closeness.

Right. Not a dream then– not that Techno would ever dream about something like that! 

“What’s up?” He says. 

Tommy just blinks, still held in place by his pillows and blankets. While Techno had shifted, he still held the pillow barrier in place. 

“Right then, guess we should be awake sometime this week, right?” Techno says, half to himself. 

He sits up in bed, then gets up to stretch. Checking out the window, he’d say it’s a little before noon. Not bad. He turns back around yawning, and picks the boy back up, carrying him down the ladder and setting him back on the couch. Tommy does not protest this in the slightest. 

Techno looks out his window, to the firewood he needs to bring in, the wolves that need fed, the general mess of the past few days that needs to be tidied…. (revenge will need to be put on hold. For now.) He looks back down at Tommy.

“I don’t suppose you’ll come back will you?” Tommy offers no response except one of his legs jerking. “And there’s no way you’ll let me leave you alone is there?” Tommy’s blue blue eyes just keep focused on his face, before looking at the fireplace. 

Techno sighs. “Yeah, I don’t know what I was expecting.” 

He walks down into the basement, grabs another arctic fox, Aura, that’s looking calm. She must’ve woken up and already got her zoomies out. 

He goes straight back up, lowers one half of the blanket wrap, and gives the fox to the child. Or is it the child to the fox? Either way they seem content with each other, enough for Techno go rooting around Phil’s place.

He grabs his cloak and walks quickly over to the shell of a house that Phil asked him to construct. The man is very sentimental, which means he has a lot of luggage to carry around every time he moves– quite inconvenient if you ask Technoblade, but to each their own. 

Phil was in the process of jailbreaking himself, but he sent ahead his old keepsakes, which means Wilbur’s infant materials are in some barrel or other laying around. 

Phil’s pretty organized, so it’s a matter of opening barrels and chests one by one, checking the first few items, and moving on. 

Eventually, he finds a barrel with baby clothes and a high chair. He’s getting close. 

A few more later, and he comes across a few books and some fabric. Success? He thinks? Palming through the books and a pamphlet of two, he finds that this is indeed what he was looking for: a baby sling. The downside is that it isn’t quite big enough, considering Phil and Wilbur were roughly half the size of Techno and Tommy. 

The pamphlets DO have pictures, though. Very helpful. Looking at the sling Phil had, it seems to just be a stretchy but strong fabric. Techno is nothing if not a resource gatherer, so he’s sure he has something similar in the basement. He takes the pamphlets with the diagrams, but leaves the books. Surely there won’t be anything too crucial in there, right? 

Very carefully, he rearranges the room back to how it was before, making it look like the storage was undisturbed. Bracing against the cold again, he darts down the stairs and into his basement, quickly looking through his chests for fabric. His storage system, compared to Phil’s, is much less organized. 

Still, he knows what’s where in the most rough of manners. It doesn’t take him as long as it would anyone else. Indeed, he finds that he has a long bolt of slightly stretchy but strong fabric, made from giant spider silk. 

He doesn’t know quite how long or wide it should be, roughly double Phil’s if their base sizes were anything to go by, so he just takes what he has left of the bolt with. Better to have too much than not enough. 

He gets upstairs and finds that disaster hasn’t struck, and Tommy is still stuck in baby mode. Him and Aura look to be having a lovely time, but Tommy’s eyes are looking around, presumably for an adult. 

Once they find Techno, they don’t look away again. Techno doesn’t know what he’s really seeing, or comprehending. Maybe Baby Tommy’s brain just really likes pink. 

He gets down by the couch, sitting on the floor in front of the kid. He pulls out the pamphlet, skimming the important instructions: make sure it’s tight, he can see the kid, and that the kid’s back is supported. He looks at the variety of different types of wrap, but just chooses the most basic.

The fabric is smooth and finicky, but he only takes two false starts before he thinks it’s secure enough to settle the child inside. Third time’s the charm. Techno unwraps Tommy fully from his loose blanket, and uses the higher position to slide his legs through, awkwardly lifting Tommy’s hips to settle him close. 

The kid fits right into his little slot, head resting above Techno’s chest, not touching but well below his chin. Techno stands, making small adjustments, pulling a little more for coverage. It’s shockingly simple. 

Tommy’s legs are dangling, and his arms are pulled in tight. He can still wiggle and turn his head, but he doesn’t seem interested in doing so. 

Techno thinks that if there was any time for Tommy’s brain to wake up, shock itself out of his Baby Mode, it’d be now. But no, the kid lays there, content. Techno takes a few steps around, letting both of them adjust to the feeling. After a few steps, he can feel a light tug from above his navel. His shirt– his shirt is clasped in Tommy’s grip. 

This was a good thing? Maybe? Techno hoped so.

They existed in a weird little bubble for a few minutes, Techno walking around the house with a warm solid weight resting on his chest. Well. 

The whole reason Techno went through this trouble was to make sure that he could do his chores, right? Time for chores then. 

He shrugged on cold weather gear, sliding huge thick socks over Tommy’s feet, settling a hat on top of his head, and taking a secondary cloak to the front of his chest in addition to his larger one on his own back. Then, he brought them outside. 

It was much easier to go about like this than if he had to hold Tommy the whole time– which must be why humans did it. Simple, but ingenious if your young didn’t walk very quickly after birth. 

He brings in firewood from the side of the house, settling it in the basement. Then, he grabs a large bucket of mutton and heads over to where the wolves live.

The wolves are entirely unbothered by the cold and delighted by his approach. He tosses meat further out so they don’t crowd together, taking care to ensure little pieces are dropped by his feet for smaller pups. 

It takes them a while, and Techno grabs a few spare bones to play with the ones who finished eating quickly. One adult female wolf gets close and doesn’t bother to chase after the bone like the others, choosing to sniff at Tommy’s dangling legs instead. The boy must feel something through thick layers of cloth, because he, honest to blood god, giggles.

…it’s very cute, but definitely not something that Normal Tommy would do. Ever. The sound is innocent in a way this server can’t help but crush out. He sighs, but smiles. 

Bending his knees, he knelt on one leg, the other remaining propped, letting the wolves get closer– something almost all of them immediately did. They gathered curiously around the boy, sniffing and licking until Tommy couldn’t stop giggling and the whole pack was getting a little rowdy. 

“Alright, alright, you’ve met the boy,” Technoblade said, rising again. “I’m putting him inside again.” 

They took the empty bucket and walked  back towards his cabin, watching the late afternoon sun. 

Stepping inside, Techno stomped off the snow and started shedding their cold gear, watching Tommy’s cheeks pink and his hair fuzz into static. He walked towards the kitchen, hungry after watching the wolves eat their fill, and not having had breakfast after his late rise. 

Techno himself prefers a quick and easy meal, so some stew or steak should be fine. Making the food is easy: combining cubed rabbit meat, mushroom, one of his pristine baked potatoes, and a golden carrot for extra fortification in a pot on the stove takes five minutes at most. What becomes difficult is eating it.

Techno dishes himself and Tommy a bowl, but Tommy doesn’t seem interested in moving to eat. Hesitantly, Techno lifts the spoon for him. The boy’s jaw gums over the baked potato, but his teeth are weak. They do not bite down into the rabbit or carrot, seemingly cannot.  

If Tommy was a shoat— a runt, really— Techno would be in huge distress. What kind of child cannot feed itself? 

Human babies apparently. 

The glass over Tommy’s eyes recedes, if only slightly, and the boy blinks rapidly as his tongue smacks at the rich taste filling his mouth. 

Techno sighs. 

He grabs a rag and gently maneuvers Tommy to spit out the chunks of stew before he chokes. The boy is still fascinated with the taste, but Techno rises, heading to the kitchen once again. 

Tommy lifts his head for the first time all day, looking at the cabinets Techno as he rummages through his pantry, looking for something easier, that wouldn’t require teeth. 

“Hm? You waking up?” Techno says, low in his chest, looking down at the head of golden blond hair slowly twisting and turning. 

Techno reaches into one of the higher cabinets and brings down a white clay plate to feed Tommy off of. He turns back to the pantry, grabbing prepared pumpkin puree from when he was going to make pumpkin pie, admittedly without sugar in it. It should still be healthy, right? 

As he turns, he feels Tommy freeze again. He glances down, then puts a hand on Tommy’s forehead, warming from the cold temperatures outside. Tommy’s head looks up, eyes blank once more– bordering on tears.

“Are you hungry? Is that what this is?” 

Tommy, as he has done over the past day, does not respond the way Tommy usually would. Techno thought the silence would be nice compared to the usual chatter, but evidently, Tommy’s brashness had grown on him. Like a fungus. 

Techno raises an unsure hand, pausing once, before stroking over. He finds that the puree will fit better into a bowl than a plate, but given that it’s not hot, he uses one of the blue clay ones that Phil got him during the Antarctic Empire reign.

Somedays, Techno wishes he could go back to when things were more simple, when all he had to worry about was his best friend and taking over the world. 

Regardless, Tommy has seen it fit for him to take care of him while he’s in this fragile mental state. It’s almost heartwarming— but Techno does have a duty now. 

So he takes the bowl of pumpkin puree, and sits down on his dining room chair, not bothering to unwrap the shoat from his chest. He uses one hand to feed himself, eating from now lukewarm stew, and using the other to alternate spoonfuls of puree pumpkin with just dipping the back of the spoon in Tommy’s stew to let the boy taste the spices and flavors. 

Tommy’s clean about it, not spitting up or making a mess like Techno had seen the one baby wont to do, but he supposes there has to be some concessions made. 

Going through his icebox, he unearths some sweet berry juice that’s been stirred with honey and a bit of beetroot to prevent it from tasting solely of sugar. He gathers half a regeneration potion, to hopefully heal whatever ailment Tommy is suffering from to revert to such basic instincts, and mixes it with the juice to hide the fizzing milky taste of the ghast tear required for the brew. 

The shoat loves it. Techno should have known– when did the little ones not enjoy treats? Glistering melon especially. 

Tommy is now sated, full. He looks like he’s drifting off into sleep again, heavy eyes giving long blinks and his hands curling into themselves. Techno himself still hasn’t quite caught up on sleep from the debacle. What was that Phil had said over and over and over? Sleep when the baby sleeps. Sounds like good advice. 

Unfortunately, Techno cannot quite ignore the messy state of the boy any longer, so he stands up, boy still held against his chest, and walks over to the restroom. 

He sets Tommy down against the soft mat covering the cool stone brick, loosening the various strands of wrap that held the shoat secure against him the whole, if brief, day. Tommy is staring off into space at the ceiling, turning his head away sharply whenever he unwittingly tilts a bit too close to the quartz tiling of the shower and bath. Techno looks down at dirt covered limbs and decides that there are lines he won’t cross. He carefully removes the white and red shirt that looks more like a grey pile of rags, pulls off the pair of socks he’d leant, and tugs off the cargo shorts that really weren’t ideal for the weather.

That’s all Techno feels comfortable doing when the boy isn’t really all there to stop him. 

He’s also highly wary of the boy drowning, so he doesn’t want to submerge him. He takes a washcloth and runs it under hot water, before wringing it out. He wipes Tommy down carefully, rinsing the rag repeatedly and making sure it’s kept warm. 

There’s something soothing in the repetitive motions, and Tommy must agree because his eyelids are closing and staying closed more than they’re opening. Techno carefully lays a bowl of water underneath the boy’s head, propping his neck up with the remnants of the swaddle. 

He watches the water grow grimy as he works shampoo and eventually conditioner through the blond locks, using fresh water to rinse. 

He deems Tommy ‘clean enough’ and towels him off, before placing him on the couch where Edward could let him know if he was up to anything. Having a roommate was never more helpful. This whole parenting thing really wasn’t meant to be done solo. 

Technoblade then runs through a quick version of his own routine, letting the shower remove the day’s grime from his fur. He’s gotten used to using one of his air vents and a towel to dry off, even if he gets a little curly afterwards. 

He grabs comfortable clothing and, for once, decides to forgo armor until the morning. L’Manburg surely wouldn’t attack so soon. Surely. (Maybe he should set up some… pre-emptive defenses. Just in case.) He also grabs a loose shirt and pants that Phil must have left here at some point. Detangling their stuff from each other was always a hassle when they moved or didn’t live at the same place. Ender knows that he’d randomly find one of the avian’s carefully selected shiny rocks in his saddlebags whenever he packed. 

Tommy looks near fully asleep, so Techno hates to rouse him, but he knows that he can’t leave the shoat on the couch after last night. Very carefully, he lifts the boy’s limbs, getting his long and thin arms and legs through the clothing and onto one of Techno’s largest blankets. 

Then, helpful pamphlet consulted, he goes about tucking Tommy into a “swaddle” or whatever that is. He doesn’t think the boy should be able to move a lot, so he makes sure it’s tight and that the boy’s own weight pins him in. The diagram makes it surprisingly simple, and after using the wrap that morning, he manages to secure him first try. 

Then, shoat in one hand, Techno climbs the ladder to his bedroom. His den is just as he left it. He lays the boy against the artificial wall of blankets, propping him on his side once again, with a large pillow to keep him from rolling on his stomach. 

Techno dims the lights in the room, grabbing an extra blanket. The back of his head is telling him that shoats can’t thermoregulate, and he doesn’t want Tommy getting sick, shivering through the night like a stranded strider. 

He rises briefly, checking all the windows and doors, listening to ensure the wind isn’t breaking through. He puts one more log on the crackling fireplace before settling down, burrowing into his warm den. He lets the breaths of his shoat sleeping nearby soothe him, drifting off as the sun sets. 

He decidedly doesn’t take the time to read any of those books about children and humans Philza had. He’s got it figured out fine, and it’d probably be insensitive to pry. He Doesn’t listen in, but Techno gets the feeling the voices are laughing at him. 

—

Tommy’s best guess is that he’s in hell. He has no idea what’s going on, but he refuses to open his eyes and see reality. 

Oh Prime, what killed him? Last thing he knew he was rooting through Technoblade’s house, before a series of explosions shook him. He’d been doing that, spacing out sometimes. It was nice at first, to have time in Exile pass faster, but having a very important chunk of time go missing? Awful.  

Maybe Jack was nearby and he’d forgive him and they could hang out. There was no other way that Tommy would be this warm.  

He’d woken up, possibly after meeting his doom, and he was warm. His skin didn’t itch and his hair wasn’t matted down to his scalp. When he tried to move his arms he found himself immobile, but not bound by chains or wrists chaffing with rope. 

Instead, he was secured by something soft and incredibly strong. His limbs were tied down, but he could scrunch up his waist, at least a little. The easiest position to hold though, was with his legs slightly bent and his arms wrapped around his torso. Anything else and he was wriggling like a worm. Humiliating.  

If he kept at it he’d break a sweat and probably draw the attention of whatever lived nearby… so he raised his head and blinked open his eyes. 

Blankets. 

Tommy was surrounded by blankets.  

Tommy did a bit more wriggling, trying to turn on his back. It was shockingly hard, something placed to pen him in on both sides, but it was covered by a blanket, so Tommy couldn’t exactly see what it was or where he happened to be. 

Craning his neck, he could see spruce paneling interspersed with small bookshelves and windows showing a clear bright blue sky. Just at the bottom of his vision, a glint appeared. 

Tommy did another round of core workout scrunching, before he was looking at a bell. Not just any bell, a villager bell that shone to perfection, on a pedestal, with a blood red banner behind it. 

No.

Tommy had never been here– of course he hadn’t, no one wanted to piss off The Blood God but he’d caught sight of something similar just once. Back in Pogtopia, when they had finally recruited the great and mighty Technoblade to their cause, he’d set up something similar in his bedroom. 

A little ritual area, he said, when Wilbur was brave enough to question him. No one dared bring it up after that. 

When Tommy had stopped by Technoblade’s house after leaving Exile, leaving Dream, he’d stayed away from his bedroom. You never wanted to disturb the place where powerful people slept, Prime knows he probably had a bunch of traps in the area. 

He’d never DARE to do that. So why was he in here? Was this the afterlife after all? Did Technoblade murder his guts out after finding him in his house? What if–

“Oh hey.” 

Tommy whipped his head as far as he could to the trapdoor. Techno was half risen, one leg knelt on the wood paneling, the other on the ladder rungs below. 

“WHAT do you think you are doing, Technoblade. What dastardly scheme have you sprung on the Great Tommyinnit? You really should let me go, I definitely should not be here, but I’m kept against my will! You can’t fault me for that, I’ll have you know my hundreds of wives miss me very much and will not enjoy finding my confinement–” Tommy just started spewing. He didn’t know what he was saying, not really. Just letting the harsh words erupt from his mouth to ward off Technoblade in whatever way he could. His heart beat faster and faster as he watched those dark eyes staring at him. “-why Prime herself probably wanted to take a swing–” 

“Welcome back,” Techno grunted, pulling himself up into the room.

“What does THAT mean!” Tommy shrieked, watching the hulking man get closer, hands reaching out to choke, strangle– 

Pick him up? 

Tommy’s brain decided to pack up and leave for vacation. The Blood God Technoblade, renowned warrior of the land, took off the blanket and picked Tommy up, who was apparently also confined in a blanket. 

Tommy used his mouth to blow hair out of his eyes, glaring down at his prison of blankets and- pillows. Okay. He’d been confined with the bedding, alright. What else could keep a Big Man like him down? 

He ignored how the loss of warmth hit him, making his toes curl. He knew that Technoblade’s figure loomed over him at practically every occasion, but it couldn’t be helped. That was a full blooded piglin brute right there, everyone knew even the smallest of those guys were in the three block range. Techno just about scraped four. Still, their size difference was never as apparent as when he was curled in a singular arm, held princess style. He started wiggling again, trying to be put down, but Techno simply ignored him, holding him as though he presented as much challenge as a wolf pup, unable to gnaw or paw. 

Tommy stopped when they headed down the ladder, not wanting to be dropped from a big height, but renewed his vigor when they hit the ground. Techno led him into much more familiar surroundings, straight to the couch. 

Tommy was set down with more grace than he expected, half thinking he’d be dropped on the soft surface. He was aware that his mouth had kept moving, but he grew quiet and stopped as he realized that Techno was literally undoing his blanket prison. 

He pulled on the folds, nudging Tommy up at some points, until the boy could pull his own arms free. He glared up at the piglin whose face had the audacity to look totally unbothered. 

Tommy’s hair was poofed up with the static and his cheeks were red from struggling. (Not from embarrassment. Not at all. Not from seeing how easy it was for the larger man to move him, how quickly he’d be dead if Techno ever desired so.) 

Instead, Tommy chose to glare as the piglin brute went to the kitchen, fetching bowls of…. Something weird. It was orange and looked like there were chunks of bread in it. He took a hesitant bite of it, and found that it was sweet. 

It had been so long since Tommy had warm, sweet food… he’d enjoy it this once. Even if it came from the most suspicious man this side of the ravine. 

—

Techno watched as the shoat ate his pumpkin bread pudding with a smile. He’d half worried he was going to enter another fight trying to get the child to eat more than a milksop would, but he was relieved when he found Tommy awake and alert. 

He would have been horribly embarrassed if he’d had to find a high chair large enough to fit a teenager. Even if Phil had his in storage and not with him, getting it put together would be difficult and likely get him caught unaware, which again, meant blackmail material on Phil’s part. No, he could figure this out himself. 

He decided to ignore the boy’s obvious embarrassment for doing something as private as… going baby mode, or whatever it’s called, in his home. But… it was Techno’s home, so surely on some level he had to be aware that this was going to happen? 

Maybe the boy just thought it’d last for a little bit, but was more tired than he expected? Techno himself had hibernated in less than opportune places simply out of forgetfulness, it wasn’t a shock. 

The shoat’s puffy hair caught the light, looking golden in the same way Phil’s did when he gave it proper care. Techno would have to convince the boy to take more care of it… to lessen the eyesore it gave him! Mhm, that was what he was sticking with. 

The boy was getting down to the last bits of his bowl, blood rushing to his stomach if his half lidded eyes despite just waking up were any indication. The shoat was trying to direct some heat in the gaze but it wasn’t working. He looked even more like a small animal than usual. Techno resolved to find him thicker clothing. Maybe another blanket too. 

“So,” Tommy said, setting the bowl down into his lap and fiddling with his spoon. “Mind letting me know why you had me immobile?” 

Techno ignored the puff of the shoat’s chest as he tried to look bigger than he actually was, getting defensive over what was his nature. Phil had said something about how the womb, how being curled up like that, warm, reminded babies of being safe inside their mother. But saying all that would be gross and overly detailed. 

“I thought that pressure was supposed to help,” Techno said. “With the whole…memories” he made a vague circular gesture around his head and pointed at Tommy. That was a kind enough way to reference Baby Mode and a biological longing for the womb but not in a weird way, right? 

Yeah. He was nailing this conversation. 

—

Well, Tommy felt like a bit of a prick now. 

“With the whole… memories,” Techno said, gesturing at the head. 

Great. Tommy must have done his whole goodbye world routine and Techno recognized it as that PT-whatever thing that Tubbo was concerned about in that fragment of happy time they’d had after L’Manburg’s successful revolution, after PogTopia, after Tubbo’s presidency, before Tommy had made the awful mistake of being in the wrong place at the right time. 

Tubbo had heard from Niki who had heard from Eret who had heard it from– really there was a big long chain of “mental health initiative” stuff that Tommy had slogged through in his free time. He knew he was losing time and that he needed to practice “grounding techniques” that Puffy taught him when they both had a spare minute or two.

He knew how to count his breathing, not that he ever did so when he was FREAKING OUT? It was hard to remember to do okay! He knew how to coach other people through the count down through the senses even though he always got the order confused, it didn’t matter much. 

Tubbo had said that weighted blankets and other forms of heavy pressure could also help, but Tommy was a bit busy being poor and starting from scratch every day or so in Exile to bother making extra special blankets.

Technoblade, the incredibly huge man he was, probably didn’t have any mental sayonara himself, so he also likely didn’t own weighted blankets. The man probably thought that tight pressure would work just as well as anything else. 

And Tommy now had gone and shouted at him when he was just trying to be nice. Wow. Great going Tommy Innit, see if he lets you stay in his house NOW. 

“I suppose that’s acceptable, Technoblade,” Tommy said, unconsciously snuggling more into the blankets that still pooled around his waist and legs. 

“Are you…” Technoblade said, pausing. He was probably trying to be kind about how messed up Tommy was but was struggling for words. “Are you good, after yesterday? I kinda found you just, laying in my living room.” 

Ah. Yeah. 

“Yeah, I know why I dissociated. I’ve got a big ol’ list of triggers now that I keep an eye on, that was just a fluke,” Tommy mutters. “I wasn’t expecting it. Won’t happen like that again.” 

It wouldn’t. Tommy knew what made him really freak out now, even if he didn’t like talking about it. He’d probably comm Puffy sometime to do some therapy but for now, he’d just deal with it. 

Would it be wise to tell Technoblade what set him off? Probably. But Tommy wasn’t a Big Man for nothing, he would deal with it when it came up. Exposure therapy, or something like that. 

What was the worst that could happen? 

— 

Technoblade was doing his absolute best to mention Baby Mode without actually saying anything that could possibly be considered childish. With as staunch of a bit that Tommy had going with the Big Man nonsense, he was in no hurry to wait through another rant. 

He subtly probed about why Tommy hadn’t let him know that he’d be at his house, much less utterly helpless on his living room floor. Surely he had a better way to go about it? 

“Yeah, I know why I dissociated. I’ve got a big ol’ list of triggers now that I keep an eye on, that was just a fluke,” Tommy mutters. “I wasn’t expecting it. Won’t happen like that again.”

Technoblade was so good at this. Dissociated; removing that suffix probably left him with dissociate, or dissociating. This was CLEARLY the fancy name humans gave Baby Mode, because it probably wasn’t very dignified to call people babies to their face. Techno could adjust to that…. Probably. 

That other thing in there– triggers? Like on a crossbow? Something that… set him off. Okay, so it probably wasn’t primarily voluntary, but there had to be a select few small things that caused it. Techno had never seen it happen, so they were likely rare. 

Chances were that Tommy came over to his house to talk to him in person– some things couldn’t just be sent over comm and Techno understood that. Especially if you were talking to Philza with his blackmailing habit. Or Sam decided to hack into your account and read anything just to make sure you were “chill like that.” Techno doesn’t know why he bothers with this crazy server at this point. 

Whatever the reason, something in Techno’s living room must have set him off when he wasn’t expecting it. There were a fair few chests open and things out of place, any of which could be rare or weird enough to not be seen often… it would work. 

Techno would let Tommy tell him or not on his own time, no sense in bothering the shoat about it if he was still sensitive. 

“And…” Techno started, doing his best to phrase things politely, “is this place safe enough? For you to dissociate?” 

He hopes he used that word right. Tommy probably needed a “parent” nearby to monitor him. Was Techno capable of fulfilling that role, even short term? 

Did Techno want to fulfill that role? 

Techno took all of those lovely introspective thoughts that would surely haunt his sleep tonight and shoved them back into the box in his head for later. This was for Tommy, if nothing else. The shoat had been through several wars, several hells, and likely was just as tired as Techno was of all this fighting and hubbub. 

It might be nice to have someone to share his retirement with, other than Phil with his crows and wandering tendencies. Techno was a homebody at heart. 

It would be nice to have someone to come home to, maybe. 

—

Tommy almost felt his heart stop in his chest. 

“Is this place safe enough for you to dissociate?” Techno asked, with something bordering emotion shining in his dark piglin eyes. 

Tommy’s instinctive reaction was to say no. No, this cabin wasn’t safe enough. Nowhere was safe enough, not with his paranoia dialed up to eleven not with Dream-  

But that was it, wasn’t it? This isolated cabin in the tundra was as close to safe as he was going to get. Especially if Technoblade, renowned warrior, was offering to host. 

And why– why was he offering up his house? Was the man that desperate for company? (Did Tommy look that pitiful?) 

His voice betrayed him. “Yes,” Tommy said, hearing his voice as though an outsider. “If I’m allowed to be here then it would be safe.” 

Prime above, his voice was near cracking.

“My house will remain open to you, Tommy,” said Technoblade. “You are welcomed here so long as you do not plot against me or take up grievances with myself or, you know, my roommates.” 

Techno lowered his head and moved towards the kitchen, dumping his stuff into the sink. 

“I’m aware that I may have garnered a bit of a… reputation here,” Technoblade said. “That does not mean I’m not a creature without compassion. Besides, it’s not as if you’re hiding in my walls, you’ve asked to stay. It would be rude to turn you away now.”

Tommy felt sweat creep down the back of his neck. 

“Of course not!” He’d have to patch up that hole he made under Technoblade’s floorboards in the basement. 

Tommy watched as Techno began to do the dishes, domestic familiarity haunting every movement. His eyes, against all reason, began to dip again. He’d slept so much in the past few days! He felt rested.

Evidently his body disagreed though.

“Take a nap if you need to, Tommy,” Technoblade said, taking the bowl from his loose hands. 

Tommy wanted to spit fire again, let his mouth run– but he couldn’t. His tongue was iron in his mouth as he swallowed: he couldn’t lose this chance. 

Technoblade finished the meager amount of dishes and prodded Tommy’s shoulder until he stood, shuffling the pair of them back over to the couch. 

Tommy sits as Technoblade gathers his gear in one corner, picking up a whetstone and cloth. He falls asleep on the couch just like that, the murmurs of a piglin in one-sided conversation with his enderman roommate and the slow steady shink of a sword being sharpened. 

Chapter Text

Tommy would like to state for the record that Technoblade was weird as hell.  

He’d been here for a week and he was starting to think that the Technoblade of Pogtopia was a hallucination that he’d conjured because this Technoblade was nothing like that. 

At this very moment Tommy was hiding in a barrel in the basement just for some me-time because otherwise he was certain that the man would be looming in the corner of the room just because. It was whack. Wild. 

It started as soon as Tommy woke up after they’d discussed Tommy’s stay– which was a whole other can of worms. He slept in Technoblade’s den. Technoblade only had the one bedroom that took up the entirety of the attic, and despite his initial awakening there, Tommy never expected to see it again. 

Which was crazy because other than a nap or two, he’d woken up there every. single. time. 

Tommy would start getting drowsy early in the evening, and he had no clue why. It was like his body decided that it needed to catch up on 16 years of poor sleep habits as soon as possible– he’d be trying to stay awake, then his host would be in the room and start reading aloud. 

“For Edward.” 

Yeah right, Technoblade, pull the other one. Maybe it’ll do a dance for you. 

He’d get right to the edge of sleep and then Techno would be annoying, prodding his back until he shuffled upstairs, Technoblade coming in to help support him on the ladder if need be. 

Tommy put up a huge fight on the first night, half convinced he wouldn’t wake up again as the Piglin’s instincts took over, but by the fifth he was walking willingly, if glaring. The nest like bed Techno used was big enough he didn’t even know he was sharing. 

He’d wake up in the morning, never before Technoblade though, and there was a fifty fifty chance that he’d be blanket restrained again and need help getting out. 

When he, rightfully so, questioned Technoblade as to why he was being blanket restrained in the middle of the night, Technoblade pointedly asked how frequently Tommy had nightmares, which was an answer in and of itself. 

In Exile Tommy had gotten used to a few scant hours of sleep before inevitably waking up. Since his stay at the cabin began, he hadn’t had a night where he woke up in the middle even once. It made him continually falling asleep even more suspicious, but Tommy was willing to let it slide. 

Since Techno often retrieved him in the morning, he’d stick by his side for a while. 

They ate breakfast together before relaxing for a few hours, starting each day slow. 

That was another thing– the man had the weirdest food choices. 

The potatoes Tommy expected. Hell, he half expected to be fed only potatoes, so he wouldn’t look that gift horse in the mouth. Everything else: the juice he was served at meals, the cookies in the afternoon, the softness to each stew left on the fire for hours… was unusual. 

Tommy practically grew up on stale bread. Sometimes he wondered if his teeth were going to fall out from the sheer lack of pressure Technoblade was willing to provide them. He muttered about that under his breath as he often did to fill the silence and Technoblade’s face didn’t move even though it felt like he should’ve raised an eyebrow.

“You want a bone like the ones we give to the puppies?” 

Tommy shrieked his denial so loudly he startled the chickens outside. 

Tommy would have suspected something but Techno didn’t make different food for himself, at least that Tommy could see. He ate it and seemed to enjoy it, so maybe that’s just what he had in his kitchen. It was harmless at the very least. 

After lunch, Technoblade would start out on the hard chores while Tommy got to play. 

It was demeaning, it really was. He knew that Techno was strong, and that he’d farm for resources for hours. Tommy expected that Techno would put him to work, free labor and all of that. It seemed like he liked to defy expectations though, because Tommy’s jobs were easy. 

Depending on the day he’d feed the chickens, pick beets, sweep the floors, and comb the foxes. These were the only things that could be considered chores that Techno had him do, because everything else was too simple.

They would go feed the wolf army and let them roam the area. Techno would haul the meat and move the fencing, Tommy was to count the number of baby wolves and pet them. Technoblade said he needed to pet the wolves to “form a bond” but being told that he was basically useless and directed to “help” like a child was so rude. He did pet the wolves though, and they did learn to recognize him too– but it was still annoying.

Techno would start cooking, chopping up the ingredients and measuring. Tommy could dump things into a pot– not even a hot pan, and stir. Technoblade looked at his scarred fingers from slipping nearby a dull knife silently whenever he asked to do something else, totally ignoring that said knives were for fighting, not cooking! 

Whenever they tended the gardens he wasn’t allowed to pick the sweet berries from the thorn bushes or carry the pumpkins back to the cabin. Usually he’d be instructed to “water anything that looked dry” which seemed like an incredible cop out when Technoblade used an irrigation system for his fields. 

The worst though– the worst bit was the single day when Techno led him to the area where he made and refined his weapons. Technoblade had a new enchanted book that he was inscribing onto a pair of boots, and he gave Tommy the weirdest gold he’d ever seen. It had an orange hue, something that was distinct to the gold from the Nether compared to the Overworld and its flat yellow hues. That wasn’t the shocking bit though, no that was when under Tommy’s grip it dented. Tommy knew gold was soft but it was never THIS soft. Technoblade explained that it was the heat of the room combined with Tommy’s own body heat that made it bend like that, before he encouraged him to make something of his own out of it. 

Tommy felt like a child, given clay and mud to model while mum and dad did the real stuff. Except clay and mud were dirty and whatever concoction this was, gold was still a precious metal. His cheeks burned hot and he spitefully formed a little sword, more like a dagger really, with blunt edges he couldn’t figure out how to sharpen, and he rammed it into Techno’s side periodically until they went up for dinner. Techno never took it away from him. 

After dinner there was more lounging. If Tommy went downstairs Techno would follow to reorganize his chests. If Tommy went outside, so would Techno. If Tommy went into the main living room while Techno was out, the man would let him be for a while before inevitably wandering in “to read.” It was like having a sentient hulking four block tall shadow. 

Hence Tommy’s barrel time. He’d taken a small piece of his golden clay with him for something to distract his hands, so he ran his fingers over the contours of the figurine he was shaping, the light from a slit between the wooden staves lighting his way. 

At the edge of his hearing the faint sounds of Techno’s heavy footsteps meant that the man had come in from taking care of the horses. He listened with quiet breaths as the piglin walked into the main room slowly, before more quickly walking to the ladder. He heard the ladder creak but lost track of the piglin for a minute or two before Techno walked into the basement where he was.

The room was quiet. Technoblade walked back up the ladder and started making dinner. Tommy let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and shuffled himself around to get more comfortable. 

He continued to mess with his little fashioned figurine, letting time pass by. 

It didn’t take long before light crept in and he looked up to see Technoblade peering down at him, gently extending a hand to help him out. Tommy pointedly didn’t take it, unfurling his spine with a crack and a grin, feeling better after getting away from everyone even if just for an hour or two. 

He climbed the ladder first, letting Technoblade follow him as he wished. He was hit by the strong scent of spices that was relatively new to him. They didn’t have spices on the streets, nor did they in ramshackle vans or ravines– maybe a bit of blaze powder for heat, but that was all. They did have spices in L’Manburg, as short lived as it had been, it was peaceful enough for trade– so Tommy had had a few spices before, but never as many as Techno seemed to have on hand. 

“How d’you even get all those spices anyway?” Tommy asked, not even bothering to go into the kitchen propper, knowing Techno would just shoo him out again. 

He sat down at the dining table and started to trace a whorl in the wood grain. Sure enough, Techno let out one of those big puffs of breath that Tommy would have called an angry huff, but Techno never did when he was angry. 

“Depends,” Techno said, bringing out two plates packed with food. 

“That’s a cop-out answer,” said Tommy, examining his plate. Dinner tonight seemed like it would be spiced chicken off the bone, and two dishes Tommy hadn’t seen yet: sagging cubes in light brown sauce that smelled sweet and thinly curled yellow ovals that must have been hard from how they stacked on top of each other. Finally. Something that wasn’t mush to eat. Even if it did look a little like tree shavings.

“What is this?” Tommy poked at the suspicious cubes with his fork. Techno hummed consideringly.

“How about you try one before I tell you?” 

“That is so unbelievably suspicious, you do realize that right?” 

Techno let out a short snort that Tommy figured was neutral enough in tone that he hadn’t pissed the man off with his questioning. 

He switched his attention to the tree shaving looking ovals. The brown rim and pale yellow interior was familiar. Wait a second- 

“Don’t tell me these are just more potatoes,” Tommy said, picking one up with his hand as it slid off his fork. 

Technoblade, the complete and utter bastard, let out a high pitched laugh. When Tommy continued to sniff and stare at the new solid potato, he made several low grunts. Tommy, not wanting to make the man upset, snapped one in half. 

He decided that hey, anything for pressure in his jaw, and popped it into his mouth. It crunched and crumbled underneath his molars, a salty almost buttery taste filling his mouth. 

“ish go’!” 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full Tommy,” Techno said. 

“Ugh, sure dad. ” He continued to eat the cooked potatoes. “What do you even call these?” 

“They’re called chips, because you have to thinly slice or ‘chip away’ from the whole potato in order to make them correctly,” Techno explained. 

“Ugh,” said Tommy. “They should be called crisps instead. Because they’re crispy.” 

“You can’t just rename a food because you don’t like the name of it.”

“Says who? Watch me!” 

Tommy bit viciously into another crisp enjoying the crunch, even if it didn’t last very long. He ate his way through most of them before realizing he should leave some to wash out the taste of the cubes if he didn’t like it– the way he’d reacted to beetroot pudding. 

He turned his plate so that the cubes were closer to him, and though they didn’t jiggle (thank Prime) they still looked weirdly pale, brown flecks of spice in the sauce inherently untrustworthy. 

“Don’t tell me this is some kind of potato too,” Tommy said, looking up at Techno. “It smells sweet. You can’t have a sweet potato that’d be disgusting .” 

Techno’s eyes just glinted. 

“Please, please tell me it’s not.” 

“Okay, fine,” Techno said. “It’s not potato. Though, sweet potatoes do exist.” 

“What is it? ” 

“I told you, eat it and you’ll find out!” 

Tommy very much did not want to do that. He’d rather do the opposite of that, actually. 

Still though, he stabbed one of the cubes and unsurprisingly, it went through with little force. He lifted it to his nose, inhaling the strong spice and sugar scent. It didn’t smell bad per se, but it’s going to be a definite first. He nibbles off the corner, and finds first that it’s warm. The texture is slightly granular but smooth from being cooked “low and slow” as Techno calls it– somehow familiar. The sweetness is much more prominent than the spice, but it’s flavorful, bright and earthy. It’s fantastic, and Tommy wishes someone had fed him more of whatever this was sooner. He quickly eats a whole cube and then another, none of them hot enough to burn his mouth. On the third he discovers one side of the cube has a thicker skin still clinging to it. There’s a familiar fuzz in the back of his throat like the static from a broken communicator voice chat.

“Is this…. Are these gapples?” 

Tommy looks up, slightly bewildered, to see Techno’s face looking back at his, hands pausing in politely cutting up his chicken. He doesn’t smile, as is usual for the piglin, but his shoulders are relaxed and his face is gentle. 

“I can’t think of what they’d be but gapples, really,” Techno said. Tommy looked at him in disbelief, watching how the piglin’s nose snuffled for a second, a low rasping sound betraying his tail swishing over the spruce plank flooring. He was amused, the Prime damned bastard.

Tommy squinted his eyes at Techno, staring dead in his eyes as he lifted a huge chunk of chicken to his mouth, blindly chewing bites off of the large piece on his fork. 

“I will not stand to be humiliated like this,” he said, but with a mouth full of soft chicken it sounded more like “I’ll oh an-oo e uiliae lie ih,” which Techno probably couldn’t understand. Techno nodded seriously, though the swishing of his tail got a little faster. 

Tommy stewed about the lack of seriousness, but got over it as he kept an eye on Techno. The man had finished his plate far quicker than Tommy could with his still slightly shrunk stomach. He’d gotten up to wash his plate off and bring out his tea and Tommy’s juice. 

Yeah, fruit juice. It was just the right amount of sour sweet that Tommy liked, and something that Techno put in it made it a little tingly in his mouth. It was probably one of those spices he put in everything– it might’ve been similar to the spiced gapples, actually. They tasted nearly identical, except for the tartness that the juice had. 

Besides, Techno’s tea was gross, it tasted like fermented grass unless there was a literal tonne of sugar and cream in it. 

Tommy finished the small glass of water he’d been drinking with dinner and started sipping on his juice, some of his appetite returning as his stomach settled. 

His eyes began to gain weight as he finished his plate, Techno grabbing it and putting it in the kitchen to do dishes with. It seemed like no time at all had passed before Techno was back in front of him, gently grabbing his arms to help him stand up and walk over to the couch. He sat by the warm fire, watching as Techno got out one of his books of myths and fables. 

Techno eventually started reading aloud, and Tommy let the sound of his almost monotone voice, interspersed with some personal commentary, wash over him. The firelight lit up the golden frames perched on the bridge of Techno’s nose. 

The living room they were relaxing in was an odd combination of homeliness and luxury. Techno had elaborate taste and lots of wealth, but the cabin walls were cut by hand. Tommy didn’t know of anyone else that would cook gapples like that. They were hoarded until battle, when you could chew through them as quick as you could to heal– it was almost a waste to use such a precious resource like gapples on an evening meal. 

Maybe some of that was the piglin’s instinctive love for gold shining through– he’d eaten a lot of raw golden carrots while they were in Pogtopia– but still. Techno had taken the effort to cook and share them with him.  

The thought made something traitorous flutter in Tommy’s stomach. 

Here he was: falling asleep when there was still a hint of sun on the horizon underneath thick fluffy blankets next to a roaring fire with the scourge of the land perched on an oversized wingback armchair reading him a bedtime story. 

What had his life come to? 

Why was living here with one of the most hated men in the world so comforting? 

Tommy didn’t know. He didn’t want to wrestle with it, either. Like the traitor he was, he slipped into sleep without a tense muscle in his body. 

—

Techno had to wonder if heaven looked a little something like this. He gazed down at the smooth face of the shoat who’d taken refuge in his den, hair shining golden under the light of the fire. 

His hand cupped the boy’s chin, feeling the minute swell of the cheek under his palm; the result of many fattening meals and slipped healing potions. It seemed like a universal constant that children never liked the taste of medicine straight and it wasn’t quite as potent when it was fumigated, so layering it under the bold flavors of sweet berry juice was one of his finer calls. 

Healing took a lot of effort, so the shoat slept more often than usual– which he could be grumpy about, but it was necessary. He finally stopped worrying about Tommy shaking to pieces from the wind outside. But shoats still needed lots of heat– so as they were leaving to sleep in the denbed upstairs, Techno took the time to swaddle the boy doubly over. 

Even when he wasn’t dissociating, Techno had found that Tommy slept more peacefully like this. Less kicking in general. The shoat was lucky he didn’t have littermates, they’d push him right out of the den if he kept doing that. 

Techno picked his Tommy bundle right up, hefting him easily as they went up the ladder. Tommy was out like a light, little breaths huffing out his nose as they settled into the nest of bedding. 

Techno had originally given Tommy space during the night, but found it settled his instincts a little more if he could feel signs of life coming from the little shoat. They didn’t have a bastion to fall back on, there weren’t other drove members pressing against them, shifts during the night were impossible. He had security and isolation here out in the tundra, but he was still wary of another attack from people like the Butcher Army. 

It was simply better to have the baby bundle pressed against his chest, or to lay on his side with Tommy’s head tucked against his neck. 

The shoat had never complained, certainly, and Techno wasn’t about to make it awkward and ask him how he felt about their sleeping arrangements any other time, so it was probably fine. 

Tommy had been so good about indulging Techno’s instincts, even if he suspected the little one had no experience with piglins prior, he was kind about it. The most he’d get was stomped feet and pouting face until Tommy was distracted with something or other. 

Even though Tommy was known for his dangerous ideas, he stayed away from the more dangerous aspects of living out in the wilderness, avoiding sharp things that could rip into the soft furless skin of his hands and arms. 

He ate what wouldn’t cause him to choke and seemed to prefer it too. Techno rarely saw Tommy choke down more than a stale piece of bread and partly raw potato every few days when they were in the ravine, but here he ate his three meals clean. 

Techno had no clue how this whole dissociating thing worked on a normal level: when Tommy wasn’t dissociating he was more coherent, sure, and he was more prone to speech in general, but his base preferences seemed to be the same. He gravitated towards the soft thick blankets, the warm fireplace, the rocking motion of a horse or cow. Techno didn’t know other human adults who liked those things, but granted, he didn’t know many human adults. 

Niki liked her decadent food, but chose thin and sometimes scratchy fabrics for her clothes. 

Karl, as briefly as Techno had met him, wasn’t ever coherent. 

Some things were probably constants, but everything else was personal preference, Techno deduced. 

He was happy that the shoat could finally access what he liked, though. Techno had had doubts about his ability to step into a place of care for Tommy but it was much easier than he’d initially thought. 

He double checked the windows, stashing a particularly vicious sword next to the trapdoor, before settling his bulk next to Tommy once more. His snout automatically started rooting in the shoat’s hair, communicating in a way he didn’t think Tommy understood but still reciprocated. Sure enough, a few seconds later Tommy’s face scrunched up and he nuzzled his small little nose into one of the glands by Techno’s neck. 

He started falling asleep to the smell of his baby, safe and warm inside their northern bound den. 

—

Tommy kicked at the snow right in front of him, sending a spray up to the puppies that he was playing with. He was laughing hard as they snapped with their little jaws, tripping over their overlarge paws. They were almost done feeding for today, and Techno was 50 or so blocks away, checking the collars of the adults who’d finished feasting. The pups were either still on milk, or had already been guided to tear into the meat, and now they were working off their energy through play. 

Right now there were about 19 wolf pups, and there were a few mothers hovering around the edge of their group. Tommy was, admittedly, enjoying himself. It was fun to let loose a little, wrestle and duck with a chance of winning, instead of Techno simply congratulating him and pretending to fall or lay down. The wolf mothers let them be, looking out at their surroundings. Tommy liked to think they were thankful for his contribution in raising their kids, rather than a kid himself, but they had a tendency to lick at his face and nudge the back of his head whenever he was down. 

Tommy paused playing for just a second to look up and check where Technoblade was. He’d stood up from checking collars and was now checking on the food remains, scattering vegetables and bones for foragers later on. Not that Tommy needed to know where Techno was at all times or anything, he just wanted to make sure that he hadn’t gone back inside where it was warm or something. That was all. 

A tackle at his legs pulled his attention back to the pups at hand, and he gleefully began romping through the snow, careful to keep his mittened fingers from snapping jaws. His legs and arms were warm from movement, though the cold wind bit at his nose and his feet slowly grew colder and colder. One of the oldest pups got a lucky push in, hitting Tommy’s upper back in the direction his feet weren’t braced. He laughed as he landed, feeling three more young wolves pounce on the opportunity to lick at his face, furry tails and paws whacking each of his limbs in rapid succession. He kept giggling, attempting to stand. 

It took a few tries, more and more puppies curious about the fallen human in their midst, but he managed to stand, winded. His cheeks were sore from the chill and from smiling. 

He started to brush off the snow from his coat and pants, trying to avoid it melting and soaking him in a chill stronger than he was already feeling. There was a particularly wide swath around his knees, and he bent over to swipe at it when he noticed motion from the corner of his eye. One of the mothers had stood up, hackles raised. 

Tommy glanced around, seeing the others do the same. They started giving off low growls, not barking yet, but wary. Tense. 

What in the Overworld had them this riled up? He frowned, glancing at the quieting puppies before looking at where the mothers had angled themselves– at the tree line in the far distance. 

He squinted, sun shining off the snow blocking his vision. 

It was just the distant, constant slight flurry, dark greens and browns muddling together, as he stared, searching– there! A flash of motion, a bit of color–

Lime green. Bright, eye-searing lime green, with a blending in white circular mask that taunted him– No. No. No. He’d been found-

Tommy’d been found, and Dream would take him. Take him from this cold but ever so warm place– back to alone and sand too hot burning and hair and flesh burning in his nose, Henry dead, not breathing, red spilt over the white patches of his fur and oh! Those were tears, clouding his vision—

They couldn’t they couldn’t cloud his vision not now not when the trees blurred and the white of the mask was invisible on the snow and that stupid lime green hoodie could be taken off at any second and tommy couldn’t SEE he didn’t know where dream was and where he wasn’t and how was he going to stop him and protect the puppies and who was nearby that his yells for help would reach– 

Techno. 

Techno was here, he wasn’t stranded next to Tnret with only a ghost for company there was a person, whole and hale– 

but his vision was slipping. Tommy was slipping into that soft world where time passed and he couldn’t see or hear. He felt his knees buckle, snow— or was it sand? Catch him just in a softer landing. Heard a distant voice that must have been his echo a long, sad cry, and then he saw red red red and didn’t see anymore. 

Tommy was gone. 

— 

Techno looked up at the sound of the first growl, low over the winds and sounds of movement. Sound carried further out here on the snow. He squinted, looking where they were pointed, but couldn’t see anything. 

A flicker of movement was just in his peripheral vision– Tommy. He turned, just catching the shoat falling, crying– and while moving his head back in surprise, moved towards him to catch him. He absently whistled the release command, several wolves running at the call. 

He quickly got to where the shoat was shivering in the snow. His eyes were wide, but blank, clearly startled. Techno pulled the shoat up to sit, rubbing at his shoulder. By the Blood God’s name, what shocked the pup this badly? Was it the wolf growling? It shouldn’t have been, the pups did play threats all the time. 

Whatever it was, Tommy wasn’t coming up from it. He must have entered baby mode— dissociation. Right. He’d not done so since those very few first days, maybe he was overdue. Tommy had a bad habit of staving off things that needed to be done sometimes, and Techno had no clue how frequently the shoat was supposed to. 

Well, all he could do now was get Tommy inside and take care of him until he… resurfaced? Woke up? 

The wolves that had blitzed off to the treeline had returned, maws slightly bloody, but not carrying a carcass to share. 

“You all just ate,” Techno said. “No need to terrorize the poor wildlife. What got you all so riled up?” Techno examined the treeline again, and very very close to the ground there was just the slightest hint at bright green.

“A creeper? At least that’ll despawn pretty quick. Thanks guys,” he said, leaning down to give the ones closest to him pats and scratches along their heads. “I don’t know how one slipped past the torches, but I’ll check the area out tomorrow hm?” 

He looked down at panting faces that seemed to smile up at him, before kneeling down to wrap his cape fully around the shoat, lifting him into his arms. 

Once again, Tommy remained almost unresponsive, first staring off into the distance, but when the fur lining of his cape touched his hands, he immediately scrunched it into fists. Techno thought that rather said he liked it. 

“You want a cape of your own, Tommy?” 

He didn’t mind the lack of reply, just tucked the shoat closer to his body, bringing them inside. 

Techno stomped to loosen the snow from the joints in his Netherite boots, laying Tommy to sit on the bench by the door, removing the snow gear he’d bullied the shoat into accepting. He gently pulled off Tommy’s hat, revealing dry and smushed golden curls. 

Tommy really didn’t take the best care of his hair. Given that he’d need to change his clothes anyway, as they were damp from the snow, he might as well wipe the shoat off and wash his hair. He shucked off his own heavier cloak and light armor, picking Tommy back up and held him close to his chest. 

They entered the washroom, and Tommy’s breath hitched at the sight of a white tub and vanity. 

“Not going to give you a bath, shoat,” Techno murmured, running the water warm. He laid Tommy on a folding chair in front of the tub (which might be for this very reason,) gently removing the shirt and jeans Tommy preferred to wear. 

He used a slightly damp washcloth to slowly get rid of dirt and sweat that covered the shoat’s arms and legs. Tommy really got too into playing with the pups these days. He then leant the shoat’s head back, using one hand to cup up water from the tub, and another to shield the shoat’s face. 

He gently ran his fingers through Tommy’s hair, using a mild soap to clean the curls, rubbing the tips of his fingers along the scalp to avoid nicking the shoat with his dark keratin nails.

Techno gently applied a lathered oil to the tips, working through the strands and avoiding the roots, massaging to make sure it was worked in properly. He then rinsed Tommy’s hair with salt water, doing his best to encourage the fluffy curly nature of Tommy’s hair. 

He pulled a soft t-shirt and pair of pants over Tommy’s long limbs, the shoat not protesting as his eyes dipped and half lidded. Techno lifted the shoat once again in his arms, carrying them to the couch. 

He laid Tommy down, propping up his head with a pillow and using a heavy quilt to hopefully prevent any rolling. 

“Okay Edward,” Techno said, getting a vwoop in response. “I’m going to start on dinner. Let me know if anything’s up?” Edward did not vocalize again in agreement, but Techno heard his roommate’s boat rattle as Edward’s long limbs contracted, grabbing one of his blocks. 

“Thanks,” Techno said, walking just slightly over into the kitchen. He put a pan on top of the furnace and tipped the lava bucket just a bit so it would start heating. They could have a lighter dinner tonight. 

Tommy seemed to enjoy his bread, so Techno put a few of his dough rolls into the oven, figuring they could have sandwiches and fruit. Cracking eggs was a bit unwieldy, as they were rather small, so Techno gently set some in a pot to boil over the open fire. 

He’d throw in leftover chicken and some cheese, and slice up some watermelon cubes. It was a light and refreshing meal… but Tommy could only eat it that way if he wasn’t dissociated. If he still was under, Techno would feed him mashed bits of egg, and pull out some of the sweet berry puree he’d hidden in the cold chest. 

He pulled the eggs out, and put them in a bowl of snow he leant out the window to scoop up. The bread rolls were pulled out of the oven, and they could eat whenever. Techno wasn’t quite hungry yet though, and part of him resisted waking Tommy up. Shoats needed sleep. 

Edward vocalized in the other room, a rattling sound that would usually be hostile. Techno hurried over– and yes, Tommy’s face was twisted in sleep, limbs jerking. 

Techno reached over the back of the couch and laid a hand to cover Tommy’s shoulder blades, the shoat stilling for a second, breathing deeply. Then, even as his jaw relaxed, his eyes remained squinted shut, his hands clenching and releasing rhythmically, hips starting to rock himself back and forth. 

Soothing behaviors. However intrinsic they were, though, they weren’t soothing Tommy now. So, Techno made the choice that seemed the most natural to him. 

He picked up the long cloth wrap from the chest closest to the fireplace so it’d be strategically slightly warm. He quickly remembered how to do the first ties around his torso before pulling the lowest cloth out to it’s full width, and leant down to dig a hold underneath Tommy’s hip. 

Using one hand, he guided Tommy’s legs through the cloth, lifting with the other. He then did the final wrap and knot, securing and settling the shoat into place. Even as he fiddled to make it fit just that little bit better, the effect was immediate. Tommy’s right hand latched onto the ruffles of his poet’s cut shirt, the other flat between the shoat’s chest and his own. His tiny little legs settled around the bulk of Techno’s hip, self rocking ceasing as Techno moved them gently from side to side. 

Tommy’s face smoothed out, squished on Techno’s shoulder and pectoral muscles, the arm loosely holding the shoat’s lower back, rubbing in gentle circles like he’d seen villagers do. The shoat’s brief nap on the couch had allowed his hair to dry more thoroughly, and Techno felt his instincts perk up at the spun strands that shone like gold. 

Techno let his hold on his instincts loosen just a bit more, snout buffing over Tommy’s forehead, making sure he smelled right. He gave a slight coo at the small sneeze the shoat gave in response, shuffling closer to the fireplace. This place, as happy as it made him, was too cold for young ones. 

Techno was brought out of his instincts when he heard the sound of his communicator ping off gently. He opened up the chat log, ignoring the (already muted) world chat and focusing on the direct message. It was Phil. 

Phil had flown the nest, so to speak, and was working his way back, picking through the various biomes along the way. He had however, asked Techno to start unpacking the boxes he’d sent along a while back, at least the few that weren’t ridiculous amounts of keepsakes. 

It’d be a long flight, much less a walk, so a comfortable bed to come back to was probably preferred, Techno guessed. 

He sent back an affirmative message, before sending something cryptic in the world chat. He chuffed lightly at the resulting chaos, before looking back down at the gold gold gold - no. He had to remain focused. 

He’d sort through the boxes tonight, set aside the ones to unpack, and start on it in the morning. Going through and just looking at the contents of the barrels and chests would take him an hour at most, surely. Him and the shoat could eat afterward. 

With a sigh that sounded older than his years, Techno stood up to his tallest, walking back over to his boots and capes. He would readily admit that he didn’t want to stuff Tommy back in cold gear for the short walk across the bridge, so he simply layered one cape over his front, making sure Tommy was enclosed, before laying his usual cape over his back. While outside, he briefly grabbed some firewood before crossing over to Phil’s soon-to-be home. 

He quickly started the fire in the fireplace, loading it with plenty of fuel to burn through the night. He’d keep it going until the floorboards didn’t have a chill to them. Phil’s old man bones better thank him for doing so. 

Techno started going through the chests first. The first one held securely wrapped vases, the second, books. The books would be a “maybe unpack,” just to get them out of the way. 

The next held storage boxes, a few for jewelry, some for bathing products… Techno didn’t know why Phil kept empty boxes in a box but oh well. He got lucky and found bedding, but Techno didn’t think it was the right bedding. He pulled out much softer blankets a few chests later, so either Phil had guest bedding or he was going through a nesting phase and needed tougher base material. Techno didn’t know what he’d prefer. 

There were knicknacks, pieces of beautiful art, pieces of ugly art that had to have been made by a child Phil knew, utensils for the kitchen, framed photos, a mixture of everything really. 

Techno had gotten halfway through his task when Tommy let out a low groan. Techno looked down to see that mostly blank face with just a hint of tension around the eyes. Ah, he’d woken up from his nap naturally and wasn’t happy. 

“Wake up?” Techno said, hand coming up to palm the back of Tommy’s head. “You can go back to sleep if you want.” He doubted Tommy would do so– the shoat probably wanted to eat soon. 

He opened the next chest finding– lace dollies and tablecloths. Really Phil, when did he ever use this stuff? Techno sighed, muttering, closing up the chest and lifting it over to the “not to unpack” side of the pile. He stood up after, shaking out his legs and unconsciously bouncing and swaying a bit. 

Maybe he’d turn in earlier. The two of them would eat dinner, which was looking more and more like he’d need to thaw out that sweet berry puree, then Techno would settle them in to read for a bit, then they’d go to bed. 

Tommy would probably wake up the next morning, and they’d get on like normal. Or perhaps, he’d dissociate for another day, and they’d spend it just like this. (Techno ignored how much he preferred the second option.) 

Though, the longer he thought about it, the more he felt like they’d need to talk about this with each other. If Tommy really needed to set up a schedule of some sorts, Techno would be happy to accommodate, really, probably more happy than he should be. His instincts at least, would enjoy it. 

He did a quick mental count of the room. There were only a few chests left, but at least 10 more barrels that’d have to be moved around. Yeah, he’d end today here. Tommy let out a low sound on his chest. 

“Yeah? You hungry too?” Techno said, gently arranging the cape over Tommy’s head and body again. He put on the secondary cape, and checked Phil’s fire again. He tossed on another log, just in case, and braced to open the door. 

They walked across the bridge right as a cold gust of wind blew, but Techno quickly opened and shut the door to his own cabin, taking off his boots and the capes. Tommy’s little eyes were blinking quickly as Techno lifted the cape off them, and he moved them to the kitchen. The boiled eggs needed to be peeled- 

Techno slowly rolled the eggs, gently adding pressure until they cracked through and he could peel the shells away cleanly. He felt Tommy’s head move around, looking at the whole room, as he was prone to do. The shoat’s little fist tightened and tugged on his shirt, but Techno kept his attention on the eggs. It was better than the shoat tugging at his hair, that’s for sure. 

“Wh-” Tommy coughed. “What’s going on?” 

Chapter Text

Tommy hated dissociating. Hated it. 

It started out with just losing time– he wouldn’t know where lunch went, or couldn’t remember going to bed– becoming like that new guy, Ranboo, he’d hung out with right…. before. 

But sometimes he didn’t even miss time, he just wasn’t there. There was something there, but Tommy didn’t know what. 

He was waking up, but he wasn’t waking up. Tommy was detached. There was warmth surrounding him, but he was disconnected from it. It was the difference between being told the Nether was hot and stepping into the area of lava flow and feeling humid air choke your lungs. 

The eyes opened, and Tommy stared out of them like he was a hitchhiker in his own brain, looking out the passing window. Everything was a little blurry, unfocused, but he could see the familiar brown tones of wood and firelight. 

He wasn’t stressed, he wasn’t tense, wasn’t ready to fight. Even waking up warm hadn’t been the norm, but Techno had changed all of that. Still, Tommy’s vague connection to his body couldn’t really feel what his limbs were like. The best message he got was “soup.” Very informative.

The eyes blinked, Tommy watching. Then, the blurs moved. At first just at the base of his vision, then all of the blurs were moving. Tommy couldn’t quite figure out what that meant. 

He watched the abstractions, a sense of rising anxiety growing as he couldn’t figure out what was going on, where he was, anything really. Where was Techno? What had happened? Tommy couldn’t ride Carl inside, and he couldn’t think of any other reason that he’d be jolted around. Except- he wasn’t being jolted. 

The movement was smooth, gentle. He’d be leant back, almost like falling, before gently rising up straight again. His stomach was saying that at least– the blobs weren’t very coherent. What stayed the same though was the white bits just at the peripheral- but the eyes wouldn’t look at them. Tommy felt the lungs breathe slowly, unwilling to panic like he wanted to. 

He was warm. He was safe. The eyes became his again. He felt as the eyelids, almost numb, contracted in his confusion and slight anxiety. He felt the sides pinch, ever so slightly. The more they did the easier it was to move them. 

He kept trying to push a breath out, but the lungs and vocal cords weren’t his yet, they were a stranger’s. He felt like Ghostbur, hands pushing at his own chest and mouth. 

The ears slowly faded in. There was no big pop like when he jumped off a cliff for a water bucket clutch, just a gradual awareness of sounds. He first noticed the rhythmic thumping that signaled a heartbeat from his left side. He could hear breaths through that side as well– he must have had something SERIOUSLY blocking up the ear for the sounds to be that loud, though. 

The more he focused on why his ear would be blocked or damaged, though, the more the panic threatened to kick him out from his body again. So Tommy didn’t. He stuck the thoughts and noises in a little box and moved it to the back of his head so he could listen to what was happening in the room.

The noises weren’t... violent. He could hear chests, opening and closing. The rummaging of materials– cloth whispering over itself, the clack of wood on wood, once, a dull metallic thump. 

Not nearly heavy or loud enough to be a weapon, like a sword or trident his brain told him. 

Then- footsteps. They were almost always the same distance away, like he was being circled. Nothing made any sense.

Something touched the foot, and that was enough for the stranger to suck in and out a breath– but he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t contort the tongue. The body made a noise, though, and-

“Wake up?” That voice, was low. It hummed against his skull, the gruff rattle of bass moving through his lungs immeasurably deep and resonant, right through his left ear. His right ear heard a more familiar…

His head, which was slowly becoming his but wasn’t quite there yet, felt warmth all along the back of the skull. It cradled him, and the hand, for it must have been a hand, ever so gently used its fingers to buff his hair away from his face, then gently traced the lines around his eyes. Tommy relaxed, subconsciously, even as his mind was thrown further and further into panic–

“You can go back to sleep if you want,” that voice said again, and by Prime if that didn’t sound like the best thing in the world right now. Just slip back down into this warmth, wake up tomorrow like it never happened, totally ignore what was staring him straight in the face. 

But he couldn’t. 

Tommy felt the body tip back down, that hand still cradling the back of his head, almost as if to make sure it didn’t fall off, or even bump it on any furniture. There was pure consideration in the gesture that Tommy had no clue how to begin processing. 

He was leant back mostly upright, and he heard a chest close. Suddenly, he was moving upwards, could see the brown of the wood walls in greater detail as he ascended, higher than he was used to, saw shelves and as his vision swung, saw the rest of a room he hadn’t been in, littered with boxes and barrels, some open, some not. 

For a few seconds he was bent backwards, but it was impossible to feel bad about it as he was quickly righted again, and gentle rocking began. He looked to his left, finally able to look with eyes that were his and clear, to see white and… pink. White, the tan of his hand, and that damning pink color. 

Techno started walking with a gentle bounce, because Tommy could no longer deny that it was Techno he was with like a barnacle or limpet. Techno’s chest let out a hum, Tommy felt it shaking his breath, before it morphed into one of those short chuffing coughs, and he felt Techno’s hand brush through his hair again. 

This, also, was enough for the lungs to take in a breath, though they refused to exhale loudly or start crying. (Not that a Big Man like Tommy Innit would ever desire to cry.) 

Techno must have heard the noise, still, because his hair draped into Tommy’s view, decorated with gold and swinging just out of reach, and that damnable deep voice resonated again, though a little higher.

“Yeah? You hungry too?” 

Tommy couldn’t even summon up the pretense of thinking for a second that Techno would want to eat him, like some campfire villain. No, he bet that the man was just going to move them to their dinner time, which now that Tommy was thinking about it was probably soon. 

His stomach had grown used to regular food, and he felt one of those twists that signaled it wanted some more. He’d say it was greedy, but just look at how Techno ate! 

Techno had been moving them around, then suddenly all was dark. He blinked, eyes adjusting, before seeing dark red draped over him. A cloak, then. 

This was confirmed as Techno opened the door, and Tommy felt cold creeping up through his legs, and heard the sound of wind. It was a short walk, all on wooden planks, before he heard a door open again and they were inside. 

The cloak was lifted off of him and he blinked, adjusting to the light. 

Tommy expected to be dumped on the couch soon after, but Techno just walked over to the kitchen, occasionally leaning down to get something, but always holding up Tommy’s head as he did so. 

Tommy’s head became Tommy’s. He was coming back quicker to himself, feeling his jaw release from the panic, his tongue grow light. He tested moving briefly, moving his head slightly. 

His head obeyed the command, though it still felt a little shaky, like Tommy had run a full body marathon and everything was exhausted. He took in a deep breath, feeling his lungs voluntarily contract. 

He looked all the way to the left, forced to lean back to avoid rubbing his nose all over Techno’s chest. He flopped his head back down, observing the kitchen as Techno did… something right behind Tommy’s back. 

Whatever, he couldn’t see it. 

But he could see, now that he was closer, that there were two white fabrics on Techno’s shoulder. The familiar cream of the poet style shirt and a slightly lighter ivory as Niki would have called it, stretched upwards. 

It almost, almost looked familiar. Maybe it’d been draped over a couch once or twice? Tommy couldn’t remember. 

He could feel his arms and legs, his left arm bent and forearm crossed over his torso, touching Techno at all times. The other one, as he glimpsed earlier, was holding onto his shirt. Tommy turned his head back to look, seeing his own hand there, digging into the ruffles firmly. 

It wasn’t what was holding him up, that was for sure. Tommy could feel his legs, bent and splayed open, but they were all curved around Techno’s torso in a way he couldn’t quite figure out. 

Tommy heard the sounds of the kitchen continue, as he moved his head back and forth, turning the situation over in his head. No matter how he spun it, he couldn’t figure out how or why anything was the way it was-

Not even to touch on why Techno was acting this way. 

Without his input, his hands clenched, tugging lightly on Techno’s shirt, and his face pressed into the soft fabric. He was confused, a little scared, but more than that he was scared about how easily and readily he wanted to ask questions and get answers, confused about how he could have adapted so quickly. 

Tommy wasn’t ever soft. That wasn’t a “posturing” statement, like Tubbo called them, it was just cold hard facts. Tommy grew up first on the streets, then in a small run down church of Prime. 

The churches weren’t orphanages, the Devouts didn’t have experience in child-rearing, but they did have daily offerings. He would take rags and clean the pews, and he’d get some of the apples or bread they’d have that day. If he wanted more, he was free to beg for it. 

It wasn’t much, but for five or six years, in between alleyway stints on the run, Tommy had found a home at the feet of cold marble. 

There was nothing comforting about it, no warmth to lull him, no hot food multiple times a day, no- no Techno, there to watch over him. 

He didn’t have anyone around other than Tubbo, whom he clung to tightly but was never protected by and he ignored the ache that still lingered at his friend, his closest one, choosing duty over Tommy but when didn’t they?  

So he summoned his courage. His past knowledge on Techno, every time he’d turned violent or angry, every gentle touch he’d given to Tommy’s form, unable to fight back. 

And he asked. 

“Wh-” he coughed, dryness eating up his breath and tickling his throat. “What’s going on?” 

The slight sounds of sharp something, shell? hitting bowl, stopped. 

Tommy didn’t want to look up. He didn’t want to see whatever was going on on Techno’s face at that second. 

He felt them shift, again, as Techno moved to a different counter, Tommy still staring resolutely at his hand, kneading the ruffled front of Techno’s shirt. The sounds of tap water started running, and they remained silent as Techno washed his hands. 

“Ar-” Tommy tried talking again, but dryness plagued his throat, so he broke out coughing again. Techno shushed him, walking over to the cold chest and pulling out Tommy’s juice and a cup with a wooden lid. The lid had three rectangular slits cut in one part of it, to allow the liquid to flow through. Tommy wanted to ask why he had such a weird cup on hand, but couldn’t. 

“Did you just wake up?” Techno said, handing over the cup and gently letting the boy drink, hand brushing Tommy’s curls away from his forehead again . 

Tommy shook his head no, drinking deeply. He’d been thirsty, apparently. It didn’t taste like normal though, it was lacking those spices, that slight burn that Tommy was used to. It was still good, but he liked it the way Techno usually made it better. 

Techno’s hand wandered downward and held Tommy’s lower back close to his torso. Tommy wondered if the man even knew he was doing it. 

He walked them over to the couch, waiting for Tommy to finish. The longer he drank the more he wished to just go to sleep, erase the buzzy feeling that still lingered in his limbs, not have to talk this over with Techno. Tommy’s eyes threatened to droop, even if he knew, logically, that he had to finish this conversation. 

They sat down, not on the couch, but Techno’s chair next to it. The man leant back, and Tommy’s head nestled forward there for a second. 

“Can I at least be sitting upright for this conversation?” Tommy muttered. 

Techno let out a low hum. “If you weren’t going to fall over, sure.” 

“I’m not going to fall over,” Tommy said, lifting his head indignantly. He ignored how his arms were sore even from lifting the cup, how the muscles were shaking. 

He froze, looking up into Techno's eyes. He stared, up close like he'd never been before. At least consciously. His neck was heavy and tired, and he thumped his chin down, staring straight up at the man, no, the piglin's face. 

Techno's snout was long, and he exhaled a long warm breath over Tommy's face and hair. The strands ruffled, causing Tommy to wrinkle his nose and squint. Techno's eyes were the color of obsidian, with long eyelashes surrounding his face that was pink with barely perceptible fur more akin to a human's. 

Tommy had never perceived their size difference like this. Of course Techno was larger. He was a piglin brute that scraped above four blocks, and Tommy hovered below the normal two. Before, the difference seemed terrifying. 

How easy would it be for Techno to break his bones? How easy would it be for him to obliterate him with a swipe of his sword or axe? 

How difficult would it be for Tommy to defend himself? 

He'd never truly faced Techno. They had what could only loosely be called a fight in The Pit, where Techno was rather obviously kidding him. 

Like this though… something was different. 

He was restrained, at Techno's full mercy, and the man hadn't done a thing. Hell, he was being cradled, carried around like… like a baby. 

Oh Prime this was humiliating. Was Techno humoring him all the time? What had changed? Or worse, had Techno always thought of Tommy as an infant? 

Tommy felt his face growing red, and he turned his head back on its side. This way he didn't have to stare Techno in the eye, but he was suddenly made aware of the low and steady breaths beneath him, a calm heartbeat pounding in Techno's chest. The noises were soothing, which flat out wasn't fair. 

It wasn’t fair that Tommy would have to clear up this whatever of a situation between them and then he’d live the rest of his life knowing that he didn’t know how comforting Techno could truly be, because Techno would stop treating him like… like someone to care for, and start treating him like a roommate. 

Of course that just made the what if questions multiply, because when was Tommy’s life ever simple? What if he just… went along with whatever Techno had assumed? 

Like yeah. Tommy was a man, so it’d be awkward at best and humiliating at worst for most of the time, but for the rest of the time he could have this . He could have these stolen moments of closeness, of security, of what Tommy was tempted to call love. 

As much as Tommy wanted to do that, however, that would be flat out wrong to do to Techno. He felt the piglin’s large hand cover his shoulders, rubbing slightly in a circular motion that felt practiced. Has Techno had kids before? Or- or perhaps he’d just done this to Tommy so much when he dissociated that it’d become natural. That thought scared Tommy, just a little-

How much was he missing? How much had he missed out on in the haze of dissociation? 

Techno let out more of those huffs, and stuck his nose - snout, into Tommy’s hair. 

Tommy- 

He should probably have taken a hint and looked into books about piglins sooner, shouldn’t he. He’d been brushing off most of Techno’s behavior, looking at it through a human’s lens but Techno, at his core, wasn’t human . The differences between them suddenly seemed vast and impenetrable in Tommy’s mind, and he just now started to understand the breadth of the misunderstanding between them. 

Tommy let out a light cough, and then roused himself from his sleepy position. He couldn’t do much, still attached firmly to Techno’s torso, but he lifted his head again to look Techno in the eyes as best he could. 

“So. Big Man.” 

“Yes, Tommy?” 

Tommy struggled to find a way to ask his questions without seeming like a jerk. He wanted to get to the root of this all, ask Techno why he switched to caring for Tommy like an infant, but all that really managed to get out was another sad, high pitched-

“What’s going on?” 

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Tommy,” Techno said. 

“Uhhh, why am I, exactly, attached to you?” 

Techno let out a low hum, which rattled through his chest and went straight to Tommy’s skull, so he felt light vibrations like he was riding in a cart over gravel. 

“We were out with the wolves, then you,” Techno paused for a second, “started dissociating.” 

“Right.” 

“Couldn’t leave you there, so I brought you inside, got you warm ‘n cleaner, started making dinner.” 

“So,” Tommy started. “You took me inside, which was much appreciated. Apparently changed me, then let me warm up? You usually do that by the fire, so is this a body heat thing?” 

“...you could call it that.” 

“Then why did you take me over to the other cabin?” Tommy asked, suspiciously. 

Techno’s eyes were as emotionless as usual, but his ears flicked back for a second. 

“Couldn’t really leave you alone while dissociating now could I?” 

Tommy outright scoffed. “Sure you can. I did it alone in my house all the time.” 

“Hmmmm.” Techno tilted his head. “I don’t know.”

“What do you MEAN you don’t know-” 

“I tried that the first time,” Techno continued, asserting and steady in his tone, “and you fell off the couch and started crying. Your eyes got weird too, constantly looking around, and you seemed to like my face.”

“What- I-” Tommy felt a flush rise in his ears. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?” 

“It’s the truth!” Techno said, hiking Tommy up higher. “I didn’t really know what was goin’ on, but you liked my face. You stopped crying when you saw it, so I had to keep you near me somehow!”

The flush on Tommy’s face rose higher, and he decided to toss his dignity out the window. He was embarrassed, his neck was sore, he was sleepy, and he wanted to hide away from it all. So, he did what his position uniquely allowed him to do. He turned his head to the side and shoved it into the cloth strap that he was closest to, hiding from the world. His hand still, still gripping onto Techno’s shirt pulled a little as he burrowed in. 

Techno laughed, high pitched but shaking his whole chest, and Tommy felt Techno’s larger hand start to coax Tommy’s fingers to open, gently rubbing at the wrist. 

“Don’t pull at my shirt, shoat, you’ll stretch it out. And don’t immediately go for my hair either.” 

Tommy whined, muttering as he tucked his newly freed arm around his own torso, using both hands to lightly grab at the fabric there in retaliation. 

“What was that? I can’t hear you hidden in there.”

“I said,” Tommy said, pulling his head back to free it from the cloth, “that it’s embarrassing .” 

Techno, to his favor, didn’t laugh again. He did start petting the back of Tommy’s head again, though, and Tommy didn’t know if that left him in the positive or negative. 

“What’s that anyway?” Tommy asked. 

Techno gave a questioning hum. 

“A shoat. You called me that, what is it?” 

Techno gave a cough, and Tommy bet that if he looked up, Techno would be looking away. “A shoat’s a shoat.” Tommy actually did look up to give Techno a glare at that, pulling on his shirt harder. “Alright, alright, don’t be vicious to my shirt runt, I was just saying so.” the runt comment gave him a harsh poke. “Shoats are… hard to describe. I don’t know if there’s a direct human comparison, but the closest thing to think of would be a… child. Not a milksop or anything, older than that, but definitely not mature yet.” 

Tommy usually would have started yelling about being a BIG MAN but that would… almost prove Techno’s point. So he settled for scowling in a manly fashion (no pouts here) and wiggling in his trap blanket. 

Speaking of which.

“I’m not even a child, so what is this? How did you manage to tie us together?” 

“It’s a relatively common method,” Techno said, almost under his breath. “I happened to have a book that demonstrated a few ties. It’s just one long piece of fabric really.” 

“Why did you even have a book like that?”

“In my defense, it’s actually Phil’s. I just went over to his cabin to look for something that might have… human instructions.” 

“What even- have you seen something like this before?” Tommy’s eyebrows were drawn together, and he tried to recall anything from his years on the streets. 

“Yeah, mostly in villages.” 

“Where… with who? Who is doing this?” 

“...Mothers, primarily.” 

“Technoblade.” 

“Yes?” 

“Technoblade what book did you steal from Phil.” 

“I borrowed … what was it called? What to Expect When something, I think.” 

“You did not look for a book about infants to deal with my dissociation,” Tommy said. Techno huffed. “Oh Prime you totally did. Why?! Why did you do that?” 

“I’m not exactly a human expert, okay Tommy? I came back to my house and found you silent, not talking, just looking at things and almost crying.” 

“And you immediately thought I’d been turned into a baby?” 

“Well- you just looked like. You know. Phil’s son.”

“You mean Wilbur,” Tommy whispered. 

They both sat in silence for a few seconds. 

“Yeah. I got to meet him when he was pretty little, before I went to Skyblok again, and I still remember the way he acted, the way Phil treated him… but he never stopped treating him like that. I didn’t know if that was something you guys grew out of or not.” 

They were both embarrassed now, but somehow the awkwardness made it less embarrassing on each of their parts. 

“Okay… okay I can see that. I’d never go there, but I can see that,” Tommy finally said. “But what about after? I woke up, we talked…” 

Techno let out a huff, and subconsciously started moving his shoulders back and forth, rocking the two of them side to side. 

“I wasn’t lying, you know,” Techno said. “Whenever I swaddled you you slept better.” Tommy pushed aside the indignation of being restrained by blankets and having it work . “I don’t know much about humans,” he started. 

“Evidently.” 

“But I do know that you’re not meant to be alone.” Tommy stayed silent. “You’ve all got touchy needs and mushy feelings in your brains, humans who are alone a long time get weird. Kids even more so. You all usually-  rally around the kids, hide ‘em from the enemies, hide ‘em from me half the time. Do you know how long it took for me to be introduced to a little kid?” 

“They’re meant to be protected,” Tommy muttered, very quietly. “They’ve got that innocence.” 

“Tommy, you’re a child too,” Techno said. “I don’t know much but I know that. I don’t know why the other humans never treated you like a shoat, or why you go into baby mode randomly-” Tommy let out a sharp cry at that, “but you definitely need less work, sweeter foods, and skin contact.” 

“It sounds like you read that from a book,” Tommy said, with just a bit of spite. 

“Nahhhh, if I’d actually read them we probably wouldn’t be here,” Techno responded, and boy if that wasn’t true. 

“It’s not baby mode anyway, I don’t know where you got that– I dissociate because of trauma alright?” 

“That’s when you have something really scary happen, right? Like Skull Shock from the Wither Wars? Your little brain just keeps bringing it up again.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy said, nodding. “Tubbo thinks it was all the revolutions ‘n lack of food before you came to Pogtopia. He doesn’t shut up about it, really.” 

“Yep, sounds about right,” Techno said. 

“You have no clue how humans work do you.” 

“That’d be correct.”

“Figures,” Tommy said, enjoying the slight rocking motion Techno was making and watching the shadows from the fire dance on the wood walls. As it grew darker, the light gained even more of a honey hue. 

They remained in silence for a while, Tommy in Techno’s embrace, too weak to be outside of it. It was both therapeutic and humiliating and they were both learning how to let these two ideas coexist. 

“What are we going to do now?” Tommy said, another question escaping him when he wouldn’t have dared ask anyone else before. 

“Well, we have a few options,” Techno began. “We could keep doing this, just with a bit more talking and asking for permission, rather than making assumptions.” Tommy snorted. “Or, we could stop. We’d go back to doing similar activities like the ones we did in Pogtopia, you’d tell me what you usually would eat, and we’d go from there.” 

“But,” Tommy started, then paused. “You won’t… send me away?” 

“Tommy, have I given you any indication of wanting to send you away since you got here?” Techno asked. “You’re here, in my house, eating food I made specifically for you, familiar with my hounds, and even curled up on my chest without armor.” 

Tommy was reminded of the reality of the situation, the amount of trust Techno had displayed in getting to this position. Sure, Techno’s heartbeat was right there, loud and soothing in his ear, but it was also a vulnerable place for even the piglin to have a thinking breathing being at. 

“I’ve called you a shoat, Tommy,” Techno said. “I didn’t do that before. I don’t think I could have.” 

Tommy almost nodded. He thinks he understands, if only a little. Edward chirped from his boat, drawing Techno’s attention. He held one of those one sided conversations only he understood with his roommate, ending up standing, carrying Tommy with him as he retrieved something from a chest for the enderman. 

Tommy tuned the process out, safe in his wrap, and thought about his options. 

He could have this. He could have a person who he knew cared, he could have weeks, months maybe of reduced labor and good food. He could be safe, held in Techno’s arms. Cradled. But, he’d have to ask for it.

He’d need to endure the awkward bits, the miscommunication, the automatic instinct clashes, the fear of Techno not… actually caring. He was afraid at how little that factored in. He should be more wary, but it was hard to be when he could almost see straight through Techno. 

Prime above, he knows how socially awkward Techno is, he doesn’t think the man could lie to him believably. Not about this. 

“What if,” Tommy said. Techno had already wished Edward a goodnight, and was climbing the ladder to bed. Techno gave a low hum.

“What if I wanted to keep this?” Tommy got out. 

“Then you can have it,” Techno said. 

Chapter Text

It wasn’t cut and dry, things didn’t click into place straight away, but they did talk more in the morning. Everything came out in spurts and starts.

“Can I help you in the kitchen now?” Tommy asked. 

“Can you? Can you actually cook?”

“I survived this long feeding myself, thank you very much. Who else was going to cook for me? Wilbur? He made drugs and that’s about it.”

“Ignoring my mild concern,” Techno said, iron bowls clattering as he chose the right size. “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

“Screw you,” Tommy muttered. He watched as Techno cooked omelettes. “Can I at least have a butter knife with my bread?”

“What do you want to put on your bread?”

“Butter?”

“It’s already on there.”

“Cut it in half then.”

“I do that too?” 

“Well maybe I just want a knife, huh?” 

“You can have a knife when you can make it yourself and not cut your fleshy little fingers on it.” 

“Techno. Ew.” 

The piglin just laughed. Techno seemed to delight in reminding Tommy the various ways that humans looked odd to the older piglin. 

Techno finished cooking the omelettes and brought the plates to the table. Tommy still wasn’t allowed to help, and something told him that Techno maybe just liked the parental caring aspect of cooking. Techno set Tommy’s plate in front of him, and paused, looking down at Tommy with a slow tilt to his head. 

“What is it?” 

Techno hummed. 

“On a scale of nothing but the usual to bleeding out,” Techno began. “How hurt are you right now?”

“What?” 

“You’ve been hurt like, all the time since coming here Tommy.” 

“How- I’m not even going to ask. I’m still a little sore from yesterday but not a lot? I don’t really know how to answer that question.” 

Techno nodded slowly.

“And just to confirm,” Techno said slowly. “You’ve grown out of the daily naps?” 

Tommy sputtered. 

“That’s– that’s a toddler thing. That ends when humans are six, not sixteen you jerk, no I don’t need naps anymore.” 

Techno tilted his head a little further and started shuffling away from the table. 

“You won’t nap? Even though you’re used to it?” 

That caused Tommy to pause for a second. Humans were creatures of routine, he knew that at least. People could nap at any age, they just didn’t strictly need it once they got old enough. Tommy’s body, used to the babying as it was, would probably want a nap for a long time. 

“I… might. I might need a nap. But I’d like to try to see if I could do without one first.”

Techno nodded at that, and finally shuffled back off into the kitchen to grab their drinks. Tommy got a cup of juice and Techno took his usual milk. After a bit of needling, Techno had revealed that he preferred milk over water due to how rare water was in his upbringing. Techno said that water tasted funny which Tommy didn’t think was possible, but he didn’t have piglin taste buds so who knows. 

He sniffed his juice and was disappointed to find that it was the unspiced version. 

“Come on, you can’t give me the regular version?” Tommy asked. “The one that tastes a bit spicy?” 

“You said you didn’t want to take a nap,” Techno said. 

“What do those two statements have to do with each other.” 

Techno bit into his toast and didn’t look Tommy in the eye. Something was up.  

“Techno, why would my juice make me take a nap?” 

“After looking into it, your body decides to reallocate resources, causing you to feel tired as your brain refocuses energy and requires more.” 

“The cinnamon you put in there does that?” 

Techno didn’t respond. 

“Is it not cinnamon?” Tommy asked. 

“No,” Techno responded. “Cinnamon tends to clump up in liquids. It’s hydrophobic.” 

“Cinnamon hates gay people?” 

“No– it’s hydro, not homo. Water. Water aversion, not ‘same hating.’” 

“Sure. So what’s in here? Nutpeg or whatever you said?” 

“It’d be nut meg and no. There were no spices in your juice.”

“Then what made it spicy?” Tommy asked with growing apprehension. 

“Just a bit of healing and regen.” 

Tommy sat in silence, staring at his bottle of juice. He heard the sound of Techno’s fork scraping lightly against the wooden plates. 

“Healing. And regen… potions?” 

“That’s what I said, yeah,” Techno said, continuing to eat. 

Tommy realized his omelette was going cold. He began to eat his own, letting them fall into a natural, if tense, silence. 

“Can’t believe I got drugged for weeks and it wasn’t even fun. Or by the drug lord I lived with.” 

“TOMMY.” 

Tommy giggled. 

—

Techno was more tired than ever living and working with Tommy now that most everything was out in the open, but it still came with its own challenges. There were questions for everything, even the normal activities that had been part of Techno’s routine for years. Or at least what Techno thought was normal. 

Yes, Techno read out loud sometimes even when Tommy wasn’t there. Edward was. His roommate enjoyed the romantic Greek myths especially. Techno was now well assuaged that Tommy could in fact read (and hadn’t that been a shouting session), he just didn’t like doing so. 

However the instinctual need to give and cover Tommy in gold? That was new. Very new. 

He’d noticed that he liked the shoat’s hair. That was almost a given, as Techno liked Phil’s hair too. The blonde nature caused it to catch the light in enticing ways, the same way gold did, and Techno’s sad little piggy brain sure did love its gold. 

He wasn’t even into the general Shiny the way he saw Phil’s head perk up at a glint from the sun. No, it had to be that distinct south-of-yellow north-of-brown gold to truly catch his eye. 

Logically, Techno recognized that Tommy was a human. Humans didn’t have the same instinct to latch onto gold (if they had, his poor small child wouldn’t have languished on the streets for so long.) Humans just liked having it, and liked giving it a defined monetary value— not that that did them any favors in the Nether. 

Emotionally? Techno balked at the thought of depriving his shoat of gold. They needed something to latch onto, something to show other brutes that they were loved and cared for. The scent claim was helping too, even if Tommy would always carry that distinctly human underscent to him. 

It led to little rituals like this. Harmless really, where he’d scent the kid just a bit before bed, picking through Tommy’s hair with a fine toothed comb, almost lulling the kid to sleep. 

“‘echno,” he heard Tommy get out just underneath his breath. 

Techno let out a questioning hum. 

“Why do you do that nose, snout, whatever, rubbing thing in my hair.” Techno paused, at the end of an instinctual discussion he didn’t really have the terminology to explain. “It doesn’t hurt or bother me, if that’s what’s got you silent,” Tommy continued as Techno remained quiet. 

“No, no, just piglin stuff,” Techno said, getting his thoughts in order. “The short answer is that I’m checking what you smell like, and trying to ensure you smell like me.” 

Techno watched as Tommy puffed up his cheeks, but didn’t say anything. They both had to bite back immediate urges these days, just to avoid offending each other. If Tommy started spouting some needling points about being stinky, Techno’s poor brute heart would break. 

Tommy composed his thoughts, and Techno resisted the urge to compliment him for doing so– it wouldn’t go over well. 

“So to you, and other piglins, I smell more like you now?” Tommy clarified. 

“Yes.” 

“Is it like a culture thing?”

“Partly,” Techno said. “It can also be for battle or safety reasons.”

“How do you use it in battle?” Tommy asked. 

“It’s really hard to fight someone who smells like you,” Techno said. “Not to mention piglins these days use it as a dominance technique sometimes.” 

Tommy wrinkled his nose. 

“So,” Tommy started. “When you put your nose in my hair, you’re checking to make sure I smell like you, for cultural and safety reasons?” 

Techno gave an affirming grunt, starting to work back through the shoat’s hair with tiny golden clips. 

“I’m losing you right now aren’t I.” 

Techno just rumbled, unwilling to put in the effort to talk at the moment. 

“That’s a yes,” Tommy said with a sigh. “Hello pig brain.” 

Techno gave him an especially chiding nudge at the back of the shoat’s head. The kid just grumbled. 

—

“Why are you bringing that thing,” Tommy said. 

“I think it might be necessary,” Techno responded with a very mild tone. 

Tommy knew he was acting childish right now, but by Prime’s name, Techno had given him permission to be childish! 

They were standing by the door, getting prepared to leave for a trip to the Nether. Techno had some trading he wanted to do and they were going to mine for quartz on the way to and from the bastion. 

“Why do you think you’ll need the imprisoner?” Tommy said. “We’re just going to the Nether.” 

“Even though distances are cut in comparison to the Overworld, it’s a ways away from here to this particular bastion,” Techno said. “It’s a precaution, Tommy.” 

Tommy wanted to cross his arms and stomp his foot, but knew that showing any sign of fussiness would indicate that he was getting tired and would need a nap soon– at least Techno thought so! He would simply be a mature and functional big man for the day, and Techno would admit that Tommy was right when they got back! 

“Fine, fine. Whatever. Let’s just go, I'm going to die cramped up here.” 

Techno gave him a snort, and they headed out. Techno’s Nether portal was a short walk to what Techno called a “defendable position” and as soon as they entered the other dimension Tommy stripped off his cold gear. 

They walked with a pleasant chatter through the path Techno had marked, going off a little ways when they saw exposed quartz veins or when a ghast got particularly angry. 

“Hey,” Tommy said. “Why do we need all this quartz anyway?” 

Techno used the back of Tommy’s shirt to lift him up the almost two block jump in a particularly rocky craig. Tommy sighed, used to it. 

“Phil had a few birds sent ahead carrying some shards of Nether quartz, so I think he’s architecting something for when he arrives,” Techno said. 

“When is that?” 

“Hmmm…” Techno considered. “It could be towards the tail end of this week, if the dumpster fire in the world chat a few days ago is to be believed. He’s left already, or he would have simply sent me a letter.” 

“Ugh, you still keep up with the World Chat? I thought you were pog, that thing’s been muted on my comm forever .” 

“Sometimes I glance at it, yeah. Funny to kick at the ant pile y’know?” 

Tommy snorted. They continued mining for quartz, though Techno was much more efficient than Tommy was. He brushed it off– the piglin had a home field advantage. 

Tommy’s stomach started making noises to ask for food, even if he didn’t feel hungry, but Techno could hear that like one of his hounds so they stopped for a short meal. Techno had packed Tommy sandwiches and crisps– which he delighted in crunching loudly in response to random mob or ambient noises. Techno didn’t get annoyed by this, simply using his massive frame to guide Tommy around a soul sand valley. 

“We’re–” Tommy used one of his last crisps to give a loud crunch, cutting Techno off. “We’re almost there. Finish eating.” 

Tommy did so with relish, and ignored how he was kind of tired. Sure enough, as they passed around another pillar of Netherrack, Tommy could see the distinctly square black pillars littered with gold that indicated a bastion. 

As they grew closer, Tommy heard the grunts of piglin language, seeing flashes of brown and pink skin through narrow gaps. 

They were almost inside when Tommy felt his heart stop– he wasn’t wearing a helmet. He was wearing a chestplate and light boots, but nothing gold. It was such a habit to just make sure you threw on something gold before you entered the Nether that in the rush of shedding his cold gear Tommy had forgotten all about it. 

As quickly as he could, he reached for Techno’s hand, pressing himself close to the piglin. (He absolutely didn’t yelp.) 

“What’s up?” Techno asked. 

“I’m not wearing a golden helmet!” Tommy hissed loudly, as if the whispering attempt would make him harder to see. 

“And?” 

“You may be a piglin like them, but I am not, Technoblade! If they see me without gold on, I'm as good as dead!” 

Techno snorted, and tilted his head, glancing briefly down at the golden jewelry and belt Techno had loaned him this morning. The piglin’s accessories almost all had gold in them, so Tommy hadn’t blinked an eye at it. He would have if he’d thought that this would be all that was protecting him from an angry brute! 

“That’s not enough, Techno,” Tommy pleaded. “You know the stories! It has to be a solid piece, preferably Nether made!” 

Techno hummed, pulling on Tommy’s hand that was still gripping his wrist, pulling them close together. He then gently did one of those fake noogies, ruffling Tommy’s hairdo and rubbing his wrists on Tommy’s neck. 

“It will be enough,” Techno said decisively. With that, he pulled the two of them fully into the bastion. 

Tommy braced himself at Techno’s side, walking quickly to keep up as Techno simply strode through the halls that seemed to twist and turn faster than Tommy could blink. 

After a minute, sure enough, no one had bothered to attack Tommy. Most of them didn’t even look at him. It felt surreal– he didn’t know what was going on, it was as if he blended right in. That didn’t stop him from latching his hands firmly on Techno’s shirt and scabbard. Techno should know better if he didn’t want his shirts ruined at this point. 

Techno found a piglin wearing huge earrings and a brown tunic, and started to talk with him in piglin. Pig Latin? What was it called? Did it even have an Overworld name? Tommy didn’t know but he did know he didn’t understand it in the slightest. 

The two seemed to talk a bit, maybe haggle, before Techno passed over bags of sugar, receiving some magma cream in return. They didn’t say goodbye, just walked off. 

This pattern continued, and Tommy started glancing around, observing the bastion at work. It was so different from the tribes he’d seen wandering the crimson forests. 

Soon, they came to a stop outside a room. Techno looked down and started talking to him for the first time in a while. 

“Tommy, I need to trade with a brute that’s in the inner chambers. You can’t come with me in there–” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s not safe. There’s lots of lava and some hoglins that I can’t guarantee that you’ll be kept out of range of.” 

“So what am I supposed to do?” Tommy said, feeling like he was on the brink of panic, real panic. 

“Calm down. Here,” Techno said, and he was picked up again. 

They stepped into the room, and Tommy was set down. Techno handed him a snack pouch and his cape, before standing up. Very quickly, Tommy saw that the room was designed to go down a few blocks after the entrance, about a block and a half deeper than the floor and doorway above it. Techno could step in and out, brutes had no issues, and smaller adult piglins could push with their arms to get out. Tommy could not. 

( Children could not.)

There was one adult piglin whom Techno briefly spoke to before he ruffled Tommy’s hair. 

“Stay here. I’ll be back soon.” 

Well. 

Tommy didn’t know how to feel about that– what the heck? Had he just been… abandoned? Techno had acted like his shield, he didn’t have any golden armor on, he was just alone in this weirdly shaped room–

Something hit his foot. Tommy turned from where he was staring at the doorway and saw the smallest piglin he’d ever seen, just toddling over Tommy’s foot. He looked further to the left and saw several other piglin children of various sizes, most of them occupied with something in their hands, giving him glances. 

No. There was no way– yeah no scratch that. Techno totally would. He’d been dropped off with the kids. 

One of the larger kids, apparently braver, walked over to Tommy and started trying to talk to him. Tommy, of course, couldn’t respond, so he just blinked, confused, until the kid stopped. Pretty quickly the kid seemed to understand Tommy couldn’t understand or hear him, so the piglin just grabbed Tommy’s shirt sleeve and began to tug him over to the group of older kids. 

Tommy walked with. He sat down next to them, and watched as they obviously started to explain their game to him through gestures. He’d have to bounce some ball of black material then grab small carved pieces before it landed again. Easy. 

Soon enough, he felt bold enough to reach out a hand when the last person lost, and after a couple test throws in his hand, he set off. 

He managed to get four of the carved pieces before he wasn’t quick enough to grab the ball. The other kids gave him a round of soft consistent grunts, and the ball was passed to the next kid in the circle. 

Tommy lost track of time, going around and around: his highest score was a barely nicked seven pieces, and he averaged around the four to five he’d gotten on his first try. Some of the other kids were really good, one managing to grab nine pieces before being forced to drop a piece to catch the ball. One kid wasn’t very good, often just managing one or two pieces, but the kids cheered them on the same. 

One piglin kid with a single chunky gold earring in their flopped ear bounced the ball just a little too high– it hit a crack in the blackstone on the way down, and bounced over to another group. 

The adult piglin watching them gave a sharper snort, before herding them over to a quieter area where there were carved toys and a soft rug. 

Tommy considered himself a little too old for that, but he sat down in the comfortable area and let a much tinier little piglin clamber over his legs, using them to play with the piglin equivalent of dolls. If this was dolls, though, playing dolls was a dangerous game. They were getting violent. 

Despite this excitement, Tommy was tired . His fingers were slightly raw from the grip of his pickaxe, his muscles were sore from walking and moving and the stress of it all, and worst of all, his stupid body still wanted daily naps. Like a toddler, or a 50 year old man after lunch. Tommy was supposed to be in the thick of it all! Brimming full of life and movement and parties! 

But no. He was in the piglin daycare fighting off a nap of all things. Techno’s soft cape wasn’t helping at all. He worked up the energy to eat his snack, but that made it worse if anything. 

Tommy’s eyes closed for longer and longer each blink, but he wasn’t quite asleep yet. Just a little less aware. He heard the adult piglin talking briefly and wondered who she was scolding. Ha- Tommy would never face a scolding, he was simply too big of a man for that. 

A large warm hand rested on his shoulder, the little piglin missing from his legs in between blinks. 

“Hey Tommy,” Techno said, looking unruffled. 

Tommy tried to narrow his eyes but they were so heavy they slid shut again. 

“You could have just told me you were going to dump me at daycare,” Tommy grumbled, raising his arms. 

Instead of being forced to stand or pulled to his feet, Techno took the invitation to reach down and lift Tommy into his grip. Tommy couldn’t complain with this turn of events: he himself didn’t want to walk, why in the End would he ask to be put down? 

“I didn’t know the area would be off limits,” Techno said. “There were large gaps of lava and roaming hoglins, so you couldn’t come with. They didn’t tell me until I tried to go in, and I knew that he would be leaving soon, so I rushed with the next logical step. Next time we’ll talk more about it.” 

“Good,” Tommy said. “Even if I don’t mind you doing the kid treatment sometimes, that doesn’t extend to blanket privilege.” 

“Noted. You tired?” 

“Just a little.” 

“Your arms are shaking again.” 

Tommy stared down at the offending limbs. Techno walked over to the lip of the room, setting Tommy down. He shook out his cape that was still draped on Tommy’s shoulders, pulling a long piece of cloth from his satchel. 

“Ugh,” Tommy said, looking at the imprisoner. “You do not get to say ‘I told you so.’” 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Techno said blandly. He quickly got the majority of the fabric wrapped in that complicated pattern before opening his arms and gesturing for Tommy obviously. With a sigh, Tommy acquiesced and let his legs fall open naturally as Techno maneuvered him. 

The fabric was slightly stretchy, and it fit around Tommy’s back, making him feel secure. Techno’s cape was half draped over Tommy’s head, blocking out the light if he turned into it. As much as Tommy poked fun at Techno for wrapping him up, it really wasn’t uncomfortable. He felt secure: both in the sling and in his surroundings as he was closer to the piglin who’d promised to keep him safe in this bastion. 

Before Techno could jump out and leave, one of the piglins Tommy had been playing ball with came over and snorted at them. Tommy blinked down as Techno responded briefly, before they got up and out from the room, headed through the winding hallways back home. 

“What was that about?” 

“You must’ve made an impression,” Techno said, holding his head as he jumped down a partially broken staircase. “He wanted to know if you were coming to play again.” 

Tommy snorted. 

“What did you say back?” 

“Maybe.” 

“That poor kid,” Tommy said. “Working up the courage to question a brute and getting a non-answer in return.” 

Techno gave one of his legs a little chiding pinch, before rubbing up and down Tommy’s back. 

“Get some sleep shoat. Nap time. Let’s go.” 

Tommy half wanted to laugh, but he refrained. As they left the bastion behind them, despite the danger that surrounded the open Nether wastes, Tommy napped. Safe. 

It didn’t feel like a long time, but when Tommy woke up he recognised a blue tint to the fog obscuring the roof that indicated they were passing through a basalt delta. They’d only gone through one on the way there, and it was towards the beginning of their trip. 

He shifted, sleepily. Techno had minorly adjusted him as they went, so his head was half covered by Techno’s cape– but the heat was getting to Tommy. It’d been nice and cozy for his nap, but he was verging on uncomfortably warm or sweaty, so he crooked a hand and poked it out to bat away the cape. 

It slid off, and Techno caught it, repositioning the hood over his other shoulder. 

“Good nap?” 

Tommy nodded, still slightly sleepy. 

“Could you wake up?” Techno said, gently rubbing Tommy’s back.

“‘hy,” Tommy said. 

“We should talk about Phil.” 

“Mm? Didn’t we do that on the way ‘ere?” 

“Well, I certainly mentioned he was coming,” Techno said. “We didn’t talk about how you felt about it or about how we were going to deal with the… situation.” 

“Is that what you’ve been calling it inside your head?” 

“Give me a break, what do you want me to call it?” 

“Why does it need a fancy specific name? You’re big T, I’m bigger T, this is simply two big men having a good time,” Tommy said. 

“Rephrase that. No.”

“Big T time?” 

“Golf or the drink?” 

“What?” 

“You know? Tea? Tee? It would have to be plural for both our names anyway.” 

“The T wasn’t for Tech’ or Tommy, it was for trauma, thank you very much.” 

“It doesn’t work, Tommy,” Technoblade said. “I wouldn’t call it that anyway.” 

“Simply be better,” Tommy said. “I guess if it really needs a fun specific name, we could call it something posh like youthful engagement .” 

“...I wonder what goes on inside that head of yours sometimes.” 

Tommy snorted, thumping the side of his fist against Techno’s chest. Techno, the bastard, didn’t react at all. 

“Regardless of what we’re calling it,” Techno said. “We should talk about how we’re going to act around Phil.”

“How so?” Tommy said, quieter. 

“Well, that depends on your comfort level. Would you be comfortable with Phil seeing you like this?” 

Tommy considered that for a while. 

Sure, he’d grown more comfortable with taking naps or being maneuvered around like a child, even if both him and Techno could recognize that Tommy wasn’t truly a toddler, and he wasn’t talked to like he was one. 

Even with this new level of comfort, a coal of shame still burnt stubbornly in his chest when he thought about letting one of the members of the SMP see him do so. Fundy or Eret seeing Tommy relaxed and sleepy on Technoblade’s shoulder? Nether, no. He’d be laughed at: the great TommyInnit, Revolutionary Extraordinaire reduced to a sleepy, weak child? No. He couldn’t. 

Even Tubbo— they were close. Despite all of the back and forths in their friendship, they were what Tommy would still call best friends. (Even if he didn’t think Tubbo saw it that way anymore.) But despite that– there was a lingering emotion that rose in the back of his throat thinking about Tubbo, seeing him weak or scared or vulnerable. He didn’t want to put a label on it, or think about how closely related it was to fear so he simply did not. His relationship with Tubbo was fine- perfectly normal, actually. Even if they left on sharp silence and hadn’t spoken in months.

But this wasn’t Fundy, Eret, Tubbo, or another SMP resident. This was Phil: Techno’s partner in everything that mattered, father of his almost-now-dead-brother, Biggest Man to ever live. He almost… didn’t feel like a real person to Tommy. Too hyped up on legends. But– if he was so close with Techno, surely this’d be fine? 

Yet… Tommy didn’t trust him. Not now. 

He hummed, unsure how to start breaking down the complex thoughts he had about the situation. Techno was used to the human vocalization– and Tommy’s noncommittal way of talking, so he started talking again. 

“It seems to me like we have a few options,” Techno began. “We can tell Phil upfront what’s going on, let him know how the situation came to be, even if I wouldn’t recommend it for obvious reasons. We could just continue on and not say anything, we could do it in private only, or we could stop entirely.”

“No.” Tommy said. “No to the last one.” Techno chuffed and rubbed Tommy’s back. “It’s taken us literal ages to get to this point; we can't quit it now.” 

“Sure runt, that wasn’t at the top of my list either.” 

“I don’t know if I want to come out and say it either, that seems really awkward. Though I’m not quite sure what you mean by “obvious reasons.””

“Phil’s little dark folder?” Techno said. “Duh.”

“No, not duh. What?” 

“Oh, you haven’t lived with him have you?”

“No, Technoblade, no I have not. He was Wilbur’s dad, not mine.” 

“Well, when you hang around him long enough, he starts keepin tabs on you.”

“What does that mean,” Tommy said, with a bit of fear rising in his voice. Techno was being unusually cagey.

“He’s got… little lists. Voice recordings. Photos. Nothing creepy, just…” 

“Just what?”

“Embarrassing.” 

“What?”

“Yeah,” Techno said, a hint of shame in his voice. “Just… records of times you want to forget. Nothing devious, but he fully will break it out when things don’t go his way.”

“Philza Minecraft blackmails his best friends,” Tommy said, stunned. 

“Yeeeeap. Real tragic. You just gotta make sure he can’t find a way to bring something back up before you do it or ask him about anything. That’s why I didn’t comm him to prevent this whole thing.”

“Wait, wait wait wait,” Tommy said. “This whole misunderstanding could have been cleared up but you didn’t ask for help to avoid being blackmailed?” 

“It sounds more devious than it really is when you put it like that,” Techno said. “But yes. Essentially.” 

“I’m going to need to process that later, but I’ll laugh at you now. HA.”

“Thank you so very much, Tommy,” Techno said. “But back to the situation at hand: if we tell Phil about how we got here, misunderstandings and all, he’s going to hold it over our heads. So we, in my opinion, should either just be totally nonchalant about it, or if you’re uncomfortable, hide it.” 

“What about you?” Tommy asked. “Would you be comfortable with the whole… kid thing?” 

“Yes,” Techno said, without hesitation. “There is no shame in a brute taking care of young, or for supporting the sounder. That is what we are supposed to do. It’s driven my actions since I was a teenager, Tommy.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not truly a kid or a piglin or anything. That doesn’t count.” 

“Tommy,” Techno started, gentle in a way that made Tommy want to shake apart and hide. “You absolutely count. Did we not experience the same bastion trade? Hell, I’ve been calling you shoat for what feels like weeks.” 

Tommy felt tears begin to creep up his throat.

“Not only am I pretty sure my instincts have fully committed to seeing you as a shoat, I know for a fact that the piglins in that bastion knew you were part of my sounder. They could see it in the way you had my gold, in the way we stuck together, Ender, they could smell it on you before we even walked in. You could’ve stepped in there without a lick of gold on you and someone would have paused their instinct to attack because you smell like my child, Tommy.” 

“Oh.” 

Techno’s snout ruffled through Tommy’s hair, and the conversation they had this morning (had it really been just this morning?) clicked into place. Okay. He could deal with this– for sure. 

“So– so we’re fine. We’re chill. You’re comfortable with Phil knowing and seeing… but I don’t know if I am. Not yet.” 

Techno chuffed. 

“That’s okay, Tommy. It’s what I asked after all. So you’re in favor of hiding it?”

“Not extremely,” Tommy clarified. “I just don’t think we should start doing something obviously kid related when he’s around. At first at least. I think I just need to get to know him.” 

“Get over the Philza Minecraft glamour? See the cackling crow man underneath?” 

“Maybe a little,” Tommy said, fighting off a smile. His eyes weren’t threatening to droop shut or cry, so he started tugging on Techno’s shirt. 

“We’ll keep it on the down low as the youth call it,” Techno said. Tommy snorted, and kept tugging. “Do you want down?” Techno asked. “Is that why you’re terrorizing my shirt?” 

“I long for freedom, yes, old man, release me from the prison.” 

“Bruh, you provide a safe and effective way to carry your tired sounder member and you get MOCKED for it, I see how it is,” Techno said. 

“Don’t call me bro while I’m cradled in your arms!” Tommy started wiggling, despite knowing from experience it wouldn’t be effective. 

“I’m on it I’m on it,” Techno said, using a convenient shelf of Netherrack to help Tommy get out of the sling. “Besides, I said ‘bruh’ not ‘bro’ there’s a difference.” 

“What difference,” Tommy said, puffing his hair out of his eyes and standing on only slightly wobbly legs. 

“One is a general exclamation, a plea to the masses. The other is a precursor to BROKE.”

Tommy punched Techno in the arm, then started giggling anyway. 

Techno continued to make bad jokes, and Tommy got more and more violent, escalating to playful tackles as they continued to traverse their way back to the Nether portal. Techno was mostly unaffected by the attacks, but he still engaged with Tommy. 

Picking him up mid jump, Techno would twirl him around before setting him down. Tommy was getting more and more tired, but he was grinning from ear to ear. 

They walked around a final ridge, the Nether portal coming into sight. Despite the flush to his cheeks from running around, Techno made Tommy put on all his cold weather gear. He himself took off the sling and unfurled his cape properly.

Tommy grumbled but complied, the two of them stepping through the portal together. 

It seemed their conversation had happened none too soon: the sky was freckled with black flying forms. 

Philza had arrived.

Chapter Text

Techno greeted his longest friend with a hearty grasp on the shoulder, relieved almost beyond words to see him well. Techno and Phil’s friendship was not one easily summarized: there was far too much war and distance and promises and memories of home between them for that. 

Phil and Techno were attached, seeing each other when they could, and weren’t romantically inclined. Beyond that, they didn’t see the point in trying to squish their relationship into the tiny boxes of labels that cropped up nowadays. 

(Both of them were too old for that.) 

Phil smiled up at him, sharp teeth curved in a friendly manner. 

“It’s good to see you mate,” Phil said. 

“It’s good to have you here,” Techno replied. Away from the bulk of the SMP, away from the butcher army especially. 

Techno could feel the awkwardness in the new dynamic approaching. Tommy had stopped a few blocks away, and had started compiling the quartz shards they’d gotten from the Nether into larger stacks to be smelted and sorted later. 

He snorted a call, a repeating sound to get the shoat over to him. Tommy didn’t have the instincts to call him into line automatically, but he got the gist, and crept closer. 

Techno saw Phil’s wings fluff up slightly, head tilting in curiosity. There wasn’t even a hint of crouching or flared wings to signal aggression: good. Techno would hate to complicate the situation with a fight. 

“Tommy, this is Phil,” Techno said, placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder blade and gently guiding the shoat to stand closer to the two of them. His instincts wanted to press the shoat close to his natural protection, but he pushed it down. 

“Phil,” he said, looking back up at his friend, “this is Tommy. You might’ve heard of him.” 

“Bits and pieces,” Phil said. “Nice to meet you mate,” he reached out his palm for the traditional handshake. 

“Nice to meet you too big man,” Tommy said, clearly nervous, but making up for it with an overly enthusiastic handshake. Phil laughed in that stuttery cackle he always made, and Techno’s chest began to warm with fondness. 

“Tommy’s staying with me, Phil,” Techno said. Phil’s head tilted further in slight curiosity, and he started to rock back on his heels a little. Many years spent by Phil’s side told him that he was curious and a bit mischievous, happy to see him too. 

“That’s new! Not bad, but I wouldn’t have thought of it before coming,” Phil said, turning his attention back to Tommy. “Is that quartz for me mate?” 

“Oh, yeah-” Tommy said, looking down at his palms still grasping their haul. 

“Great! I’ve had thoughts of a training room for ages, but couldn’t build while stuck in that shack.” 

Tommy clearly had questions, but dropped it. 

“Well, your cabin is prewarmed,” Techno said. “I’ve kept the fire going so that it didn’t take forever tonight, especially as you didn’t comm me your exact date.”

“With everything going on? It was a rushed move,” Phil said. “Taking advantage of the distraction and all.” 

Techno hummed noncommittally. He didn’t know what was happening, but something was always amiss in L’Manburg. 

“Let’s get you settled in for the night, and we can talk more tomorrow,” Techno said. The three of them walked up to the cabins, Techno using his hand to push Tommy towards their shared cabin. Tommy looked up at him, and moved towards the cabin after an encouraging eye flick. If Techno was reading the human body language right, he was relieved to go eat before turning in, not being made to help set a virtual stranger up for the night. 

Phil's wings ruffled and he rocked onto the tips of his toes, giving Techno a large smile as they walked over the small connection porch and Techno undid the latch on the front door. 

“Love this setup Tech, a classic contrast with the walls and beams,” Phil said, eyes roaming over the bare bones frame. 

“Don’t flatter me Phil, you know I leave the building to you,” Techno said. 

“I might have a knack for it after doing it for so long, but this is really nice! You should be proud of yourself,” Phil said while stepping closer to tap lightly on Techno’s arm. “It’s certainly more accessible than the shack they had me up in,” he laughed. 

Techno stared down at Phil, huffing a breath out in mutual exasperation and fondness. 

“Forgive me for wanting to fit into my own buildings,” Techno said. “Oh the horror. The crime.” 

Techno was… an anomaly, at four blocks tall. Granted, he was a piglin brute, and they were also tall, so it wasn’t unexpected. The greater SMP was mostly made up of humans and hybrids, which tended to put them around two blocks tall. 

There were exceptions: Bad, local demon hybrid, was just over three blocks tall. Bad’s rarely seen situationship Skeppy was around a block tall. That new kid who’d been cowering through the entire Butcher Army situation, Janmoo or something, was also around four blocks tall. Techno would pay money if that kid wasn’t an enderman hybrid. 

Phil was an avian, fullblooded, which was rare in this day and age. He stood just about two blocks tall, but his wings, which needed to lift him fully off the ground, were about six blocks wide: so naturally, sat folded on Phil’s back, they added an extra block or so in height. 

Phil could live in normal human settlements; the counters were at the right height, the beds weren’t too short as long as he had room on either side, and in order to get through the doors a little folding and backward extension brought the wings down enough to make do. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it worked. 

Techno… had other issues. He’d try, but low ceilings made everything impossible. Phil might have to use a stepstool if he wanted something from one of Techno’s cabinets, but the relief from not hitting his wings on everything more than made up for it. 

“I’m just teasing, just teasing,” Phil said. “I might change a few things around, get out all my decorations, but this is a lovely home you’ve built here.” 

“You flatter me,” Techno said. “But please get out all of your decorations. Use them. Why do you have so many? Do you know how hard it was to find the essentials between boxes of stuff I’ve never seen you use?” 

Phil reached up and smacked Techno with his wing, laughing. 

“Bugger off,” Phil said. “They’re sentimental. Or situational. What are you going to do if your wife visits and wants tea?” 

“I don’t have–”

“If you had a wife!” 

“She’d drink it out of a mug. Like most civilized people. You don’t need the 17 piece teaware set to enjoy the tea, Phil.” 

“That’s what they all say. It’s for the experience, thank you very much.” 

“Sure sure, I believe you.” 

Phil smacked Techno with his wing again. It didn’t take long for Techno to point out how he’d laid out the rooms, showing him the elevated bedroom and bare mattress with stacked linens beside it. 

Phil whistled as his pupils dilated and he walked over to the blankets, stacking hard pillows around the edge before covering them with bulky blankets and the polar bear fur Techno had leant him. As Phil worked, he isolated a thicker layer and surrounded it with lighter blankets, to create both an insulated bottom and top he could pull over his lower half. 

He paused halfway through the finishing touches on the nest, darting over to Techno and pressing up against his side. 

“Thanks so much Tech,” Phil said, the end of his sentence distorting with a wobbling coo. 

“S no problem Phil. Are you set up for the night?” 

“Mhm,” Phil said, his eyes wrinkling up at the ends. “Might spend tomorrow holed up in here. Mind if I stop over for food?” 

“For you, the world Phil. You’re welcome over anytime. Just don’t step on the gremlin while you’re over and we’ll be great.” 

Phil’s eyes darkened a little, something knowing glinting off his pupils that Techno couldn’t put a whisker to. 

“Can do,” Phil said. 

“I’ll be off then,” said Techno, nodding towards the door. 

Phil smiled, but his frame was already turning back to the half built nest, instincts pulling on his brain until it felt right right right . Techno couldn’t begrudge him that– one too many gold chains crafted under his hands for him to be hypocritical. 

He ducked downstairs and opened and closed the door with as much gentleness as he could muster. The brisk air stung his nostrils as a breeze blew past, hurrying his footsteps across the bridge. 

He pushed open his own door to warmth: a golden glow covered the cabin from the fireplace, thick walls doing their job at keeping the heat in. Tommy poked his head around the corner at the sound of Techno shedding his boots and cold gear, still holding a bowl of soup. 

His nap had definitely helped him: Tommy still looked awake even though the hour was growing late. 

“Hey,” Tommy said, before slurping his soup. 

“Don’t do that, shoat,” Techno said, pushing a chiding hand down on the top of Tommy’s head. “Use a spoon.”

“You know in some cultures, slurping is seen as a sign of respect for the chef,” Tommy said. “It’s so good you can’t help it.”

Techno rolled his eyes. “Not in our culture, Tommy.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Sorry, I’ll rephrase. Not in my house , Tommy.” 

“We’re out of spoons.”

Techno sighed. 

“You could have started with that,” Techno grumbled, walking over to the cutlery drawer. He pulled open the drawer, and immediately saw spoons. “What do you mean? Tommy, there are very clearly spoons here.”

Techno turned back around to find Tommy now sitting on the counter, finishing drinking his soup. Some of the chunks of pork had gotten stuck at the bottom of the bowl so Tommy had to awkwardly stick his head in to lap at them. 

“Too big.”

Techno sighed, weary down to his bones. 

“I could have washed one of the smaller spoons for you Tommy.”

“Yeah, but that would defeat the point innit?” Tommy grinned up at Techno, and he couldn’t help the fondness that rose like dawn in his chest. 

“Sure, shoat. Now get over here,” Techno said, moving with a rag held in his hand. “You’ve managed to get soup all along your nose.” 

Tommy shrieked, but it was high and light, and he laughed after. Techno wrangled the boy on the counter until his face was clean, and Tommy made his “daring escape” to run on socked feet into the living room. 

Techno grumbled fondly, but chose to gather his own meal instead of retaliating. He didn’t feel like cooking, so he threw together a sandwich and heated some leftover potatoes on the stovetop. Tommy would ‘slyly’ duck his head around the corner as Techno ate, trying to sneak up on him. 

Each time Tommy got within a few feet, Techno would just turn and look him blankly in the eyes and Tommy would shriek again, darting back to the safety of the living room. 

Techno rose after eating, gathering his plate and Tommy’s discarded bowl to be washed. He’d just gotten to the sink when Tommy decided to attack from behind with a tackle. Techno, of course, wasn’t affected at all. He hiked Tommy further up his back and flipped him over until he dangled by his feet, knees crossed over Techno’s arms. 

“Okay okay okay I’ll stop I’ll stop- TECHNO don’t you dare drop me– TECHNO,” Tommy shrieked in between bouts of laughter. 

“Hmmmm I don’t know,” Techno said in a monotone voice. 

“Technoblade I swear to Prime if you drop me I’ll never forgive you–” Techno lowered his arm briefly, causing Tommy to dip and shriek again. “Stop it! Please Techno just this once I’ll promise to stop if you just quit it–” 

Techno laughed himself, using his other arm to support Tommy’s lower back, flipping him back upright. Tommy’s legs caught around Techno’s torso, and he locked an arm behind Techno’s shoulders so he could watch what Techno did. 

Luckily, they didn’t have any pots or pans so with a little maneuvering Techno was able to wash the plates and bowls with one hand. 

Tommy watched him until everything was on the drying rack before wiggling to be put down.

“You can use your words you know,” Techno said, leaning down to set the shoat on his feet. 

Tommy hummed. “Mhm, sure, can I play with Blitz?” 

“In the basement?”

“Yeah, it’s cold and I don’t want to go back outside.”

Techno considered that. Tommy still had plenty of energy to burn. 

“Sure,” Techno said, looking outside. “If you go quiet suddenly or I hear a chest break, I’m allowed to come down and check on you.”

“Yes mum I’ll be fine,” said Tommy, rolling his eyes as he walked away. 

Techno snorted. He doubted Tommy knew how little gendered parental terms applied to Piglin culture. If you were a brute, you were a brute. If you were a scholar, you were a scholar. Who cares as long as you get the job done. (He still wouldn’t correct Tommy, it was funny to watch him jab ineffectively.)

Sure enough, Tommy left to dip into the basement, and Techno settled in on the plush chair. He made a conscious effort to pause at every chapter, listening for signs of life from downstairs. He wasn’t overprotective, he could go an hour or two without checking on the shoat. Surely. 

He was in the middle of an in-depth second person account of a particular war strategy meeting when he heard the trapdoor pop open and Tommy climbed through. 

Techno put his book down after noting the page mentally, snorting to call Tommy over. 

Tommy looked disgruntled, but complied. Techno gave his arms a onceover looking for bruises, before fussing with Tommy’s hair, straightening it out from the mess it’d been. Tommy had started to tire back out again, and was ready to wind down for bed. 

Techno let Tommy pass him to sit down on the couch, opening his book once again. Tommy goes for a rough sketchbook he’d started a few days ago, using charcoal to draw clumsy approximations. 

Tommy wasn’t a fantastic artist, but Techno was proud of him for trying. Tommy was someone who would try hard at things. The gardening, the livestock, everything Techno let him do, Tommy uptook with an almost extreme dedication. 

The little beacon-focused look in his eyes as he spaced seeds out in his own patch was, Techno hated to admit it, adorable. He wanted to be chill, nonchalant, normal about the whole thing, but as is he had to stop himself from breaking out in sappy grunts as his tail wagged and the voices in his head started exploding. (They rarely got loud enough he couldn’t block them out after centuries of practice, but every once in a while he indulged them in conversation. He hadn’t done that lately, hadn’t had time for a three hour long gossip and grind session. He hoped nothing drastic had happened in that time period, but what he had going on with Tommy probably was the most interesting thing right now. Unless- he’d gotten mail about an egg?) 

They sat with the crackling of the fire and Edward’s occasional happy-grass-block exclamations as the only noise in the room for what Techno would estimate to be an hour. 

He looked up after finishing a chapter to find Tommy’s eyes half drooped and his pencil held loosely in his hand. Closing the book, Techno stood and prodded Tommy to come. Tommy gave him a noise of derision, closing his sketchbook but slumping down on the couch.

“Don’t wanna get up,” Tommy half slurred, and raised his arms. Techno walked over and scooped him up, ignoring the long “nooooo” Tommy cried as the couch’s throw blanket slid off his legs. 

Techno let out a reassuring chuff involuntarily as he scented Tommy’s hair, carrying him over to the ladder. He entered the den with a snort, letting Tommy fall a short distance to the bed, throwing the child a pair of sleep shorts before shedding his own heavier day wear for cooler sleeping clothes. When he was all changed, he turned around to find Tommy half cocooned in blankets already. 

Techno walked over, grunting as Tommy glared at him sleepily. 

“‘s bedtime,” Tommy whined.

“Yes.” 

Techno unraveled Tommy from his blankets and began rewrapping him properly, so that he wasn’t restrained fully but wouldn’t thrash around in his sleep. 

Tommy went limp, letting Techno do as he pleased, and he hummed happily when Techno finished and he was warm despite the howling winds outside. 

Techno laid down on his own area of the bed, pulling a large fur over his legs. He’d stoked the fire downstairs earlier, but it was a bitterly cold night. Techno blew out his candles, settling in. 

“Techno?” 

“Yes, Tommy?”

Techno looked over, light reflecting off the snow outside made a faint glow come through the windows, despite the lack of candles or torches. The silver tone lit up Tommy’s hair as the boy turned to look in his direction. 

“Am I gonna have to do different chores tomorrow if Phil is watching outside? Can I still play with the hounds?” 

It was half mumbled, clearly sleepy, and it melted Techno’s heart. 

“You can do whatever you’re comfortable with, shoat. I’ve always told you that. Phil won’t mind you messing with the wolves, but if you want to try feeding too you’re always allowed.” 

Tommy didn’t respond, but flopped his head back down, and started breathing deep and slow. 

Techno almost laughed. They’d be fine. 

He turned back over and eased into sleep with the sound of his shoat’s breath next to him. Phil was in the next cabin over. 

He slept easy.

—

Phil had only been settled in Techno’s arctic refuge for a few days, but he could tell something was… off. 

Phil and Techno had been friends for longer than was probably recommended. They’d been through each other’s highs and lows, bests and worsts, wars and peace. He’d seen Tech shake apart late at night, fur still clotted with blood from their enemies, murmuring to souls that had long departed from their owners. He’d also seen Tech relax in a kingdom of his own making, forging a bell while a hound lay over his feet. (Phil didn’t want to think of how Techno had seen him, just weeks ago, shattered in pieces because the red under his fingernails belonged to his son, his darling little boy who had flown so high only to fall so far until he was no longer Phil’s flesh and blood but a stranger stressed out of his skin begging for mercy. No, Phil didn’t want to think of it at all.) 

Phil had never seen Techno like this. They’d had friends, plenty between the two of them. Techno had dependents, but only in the way of animals. He’d interacted with children and teens from a distance: in the bastion, as a Brute, and as a visiting uncle figure for Wilbur growing up. He’d never spent so long with a human child like this, and it was… weird, to say the least. Not because it was something Techno couldn’t do, but one that he hadn’t done. Phil wasn’t used to Techno surprising him these days. And maybe that needed to change–

Because this was good. Techno looked happy. Healthy. Humourous. Things he didn’t get often in their so long war-torn lives, and Phil wanted him to keep those things. Desperately. But…

That didn’t mean Phil couldn’t have any fun. 

“Hey mate, what’re you up to?” Phil said, leaning over Tommy’s side. 

Tommy shrieked and jumped, before starting one of those teen tirades that Phil was rather certain none of them were hearing, least of all Tommy himself. 

“-into the depths of soul-fire barbeque hell Phil, what do you MEAN “whAt’RE yOu UP tO?” I’m standing here with fertilizer I’m about to feed the potatoes their cow poop what else would I be doing with this, get your Prime-damned predator claws out of my face, thank you very much. ” 

Tommy was leant away from him, one hand clasped over his heart, and the other holding a bucket of fertilizer. 

“Wouldn’t take you one for gardening, is all,” Phil said, eyes creasing with restrained laughter. 

“Screw you,” Tommy muttered. “Gardening is a Big Man Activity I’ll have you know, and if you’re going to take up beef with my chores ask Techno. He’s the one in charge around here,” the teen said, rolling his eyes. 

Phil cocked his head instinctually, turning to Techno who was standing further away, carefully evaluating the stems of his pumpkins, ensuring that there was no rotting. 

Phil turned back to Tommy still though, wanting to dig further. 

“Yeah? Tech give you a lot of chores?” 

“Not really,” the teen said mulishly, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. Phil followed, carefully stepping to avoid hopping as he navigated the fields. Tommy was certainly familiar with them, as he walked to one of two harvested fields, digging into the ground and starting to carefully distribute the manure. He wasn’t slinging it around like Phil half expected a coerced teen to do. No, Tommy was being careful, even if he grumbled about it. 

“Techno has me do chores ‘round here, but they’re mostly stupid, ” Tommy said. Oh, there was something to dig into there. 

“What do you mean?” Phil asked. “Are they useless? Or just boring?” 

“They’re fine I guess. They’re not fun, but they do help out. At least most of them do.” Tommy said, muttering the last sentence under his breath in a way that Phil probably wasn’t meant to hear. 

“Oh?” Phil prodded, meandering closer with his arms clasped around his back. He held back his instinctual coo, not knowing how Tommy would react to the noise. 

“He lets me help here in the garden, and with the animals a bunch. Except for the wolves, he makes me take care of the puppies, like I couldn’t deal with the bigger ones. I’m a big man I can handle feeding a bunch of dogs, but nooooo, the socialization is so much more important that I simply must spend all my time with the babies –” 

Phil couldn’t hold back a twittering laugh, watching Tommy wrinkle his nose up at him. That made sense. The kid liked having something to do, but didn’t want to be treated like a little kid. Phil knows Wilbur went through a phase like that, casting aside all his childhood favorites, even if he still secretly wanted them. Must be a human thing– Phil’d never had such a phase. 

“In Techno’s defense,” Phil said, speaking over Tommy’s groan, “socialization is important. Hounds need to get used to people and processes young, or else they lash out when they’re older. Also, it’s good for them to recognize you– I know Tech likes his wolves vicious.” 

“Yeah yeah, they do some border patrol and stuff. We had some torches get destroyed and they take care of the dark patches we haven’t found yet.” 

Phil bobbed in agreement, allowing himself one hop over the rows as Tommy continued to carefully fertilize the field. He struck up a light conversation about music, knowing the teen had liked those discs for ages. 

It didn’t take long for Tommy to finish, Phil trailing his steps the whole way. Techno wandered over, having evidently finished his own crop related chores. 

“Hello,” Techno said, holding out the vowels as he got close. 

“Hi, here’s your cow poop back,” Tommy said, unceremoniously pushing the bucket at Techno’s legs. Techno grunted a bit as it smacked into his knees. 

“Gentle, Tommy. You know good and well that this is composted too, it’s not just manure,” Techno lectured, still taking the bucket out of Tommy’s hands.

“Sure. Let’s go with that,” Tommy said, walking back to the shed. 

“That’s literally just how it is? What do you mean, Tommy,” Techno said, exasperation creeping into his tone. 

Tommy cackled like the gremlin he was, darting off, leaving Phil and Techno alone. 

“Are all teenagers this exhausting?” Techno asked, turning to Phil and starting to carry the composted manure back to the shed. 

“No clue mate,” Phil said. “I just had the one, and you know they got along like a house on fire,” Phil managed to say, ignoring the lump that wanted to choke the words in his throat. “At least you don’t have to parent this one. Just deal with him living in your walls.” 

Techno’s eyes creased, the light catching on them in a playful way. 

“Mmmmyep. Sure.” 

Phil laughed, bopping Techno on the shoulder with his right wing. 

“That better not have been a dig at my parenting style, Technoblade,” Phil said.

“It absolutely was not,” Techno said. “Why would you ever imply that I’d say something like that?” 

Phil laughed, letting the bit go as Techno unloaded the last of the farming equipment into the shed. Tommy’s shovel was already in there, hung up and cleaned off. 

“I know you’re settling in,” Techno said. “But if you’re going to the village that morning, you can come over to ours for dinner. Save yourself from needing to cook tired.” 

“Awww thanks,” Phil said. “That would be great honestly. You’ll never hear me reject an easy meal like that.” 

“Alright then. We’ll see you before sunset?” 

“For sure.” 

“Then I’ll let you get back to building. I’ve got to make dinner, can’t let Tommy try and burn the whole cabin down.”

“He can’t be that bad,” Phil said. 

Techno just looked him dead in the eyes, expression removed from his face and voice. 

“The horrors, Phil. He’s never had spices. He asked if his juice had nutpeg in it, calls chips crisps, and once when I got distracted he decided that the right way to eat watermelon was to pick it up and smash it on the ground, only to start scrabbling at the bits that were left like a raccoon. Phil, when I walked into the room, not only did he not stop eating, he simply stated that he ’thought he’d have to really smash into it, because he thought they were rock hard. I trust that teenager to root around my vegetables, Phil.” 

Phil hadn’t been able to restrain his laughter by the third sentence. 

“Sounds about right mate. That’s a teenager for you.”

“If I die of food poisoning, you know who to blame.” 

“He’s not that bad, honestly,” Phil said. “I might start calling ‘em crisps too. That describes the crunchy texture awfully well, don’t you think?”

Techno looked Phil dead in the eyes. Without blinking, the piglin turned on his heel and walked back towards his cabin. 

“Bye?” Phil laughed, warbling as he started to hop around the shed to watch Techno retreat. 

“Come talk at dinner when you’ve decided to be reasonable!” Techno yelled over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around. 

Phil cooed, crow alighting on his shoulder. 

“He’s being grumpy, ain’t he chat?” Phil said, walking back into his own cabin. “It’s good to be around old friends again though.” 

The crow started twittering in reply and Phil closed his own door, getting ready for the night. 

Chat kept him company as he boiled eggs (it wasn’t cannibalism, don’t even start) and made a seed heavy salad. Protein and healthy fats were good for his aching bones (not that he’d ever tell anyone that. The elderly jokes were getting old quick.) It was an easy enough meal to throw together as he hadn’t had the presence of mind to prep a stew, and he wanted something he could pack away to carry tomorrow as he ventured toward the village Techno had pointed out on his map. 

Most of Phil’s packing stuff was out, as he’d just gotten back from a long journey, but with the colder winds Phil would be taking a horse to carry his goods back, so he rooted through his saddle collection, setting up a specific chest and ensuring that they were oiled correctly. 

He stretched, staring out the window blankly as he plotted his day ahead. A flicker of light caught his eye: a torch, being carried by Techno, with Tommy darting around the shadows. 

Phil’s head tilted in curiosity again, and he didn’t stop his instinctive vocalisations as chat sounded back at him. Smushing his face against the glass carefully, Phil watched as the odd pair carried furs out to the hounds. 

He could barely hear a loud whistle-like squeal from Techno, the last of the hound pups darting into the den for the night. Phil watched as several stopped to smell or lick at the pair, puppies especially jumping at Tommy until he kneeled down and they could dart in to lick at his face for the night. Several chose to stay outside all night, presumably on guard, but Techno and Tommy disappeared briefly, dropping off furs for warmth inside, before returning to their own nighttime activities. 

Tommy still had lots of energy, and he darted around, occasionally bumping into Techno– but being careful of the torch still held in his grasp. Techno wasn’t affected by the pushing physically, but by halfway, after being bumped several times, he stopped, turning his head slowly to stare Tommy down. 

Tommy evidently knew what was coming, and Phil heard him shriek as Techno used speed people wouldn’t expect from a person his size to grab Tommy around the middle with one arm, hefting him like a bag of potatoes. 

Tommy wriggled once, twice, before falling limp. He was probably complaining, but the howling wind muted it before Phil could hear. 

Phil backed away as the light blurred into the warmth from the cabin, Tech and Tommy officially turning in for the night. Phil himself hopped upstairs to go to bed in his lovely fully constructed nest, turning over the interactions in his mind. 

It made a shocking amount of sense.

Techno was never one for children, but Tommy wasn’t very childish. Sure he yelled and blustered, but Techno appreciated humor. More than that, the teen was considerate. He put his tools away right. He was careful with the compost. He paid attention to the directives Techno gave. 

Techno in turn was friendly. They shared wrestles and fights like Phil thought most close humans did– though he wasn’t quite sure, either. Avians were more likely to see that sort of thing as a mating ritual or dominance display– not friendly. Phil knew that Techno could be chiding physically: they’d developed a pattern of knocking arms and wings in subtle but friendly annoyance. It worked. Phil had no clue of that was a piglin thing or a Techno thing, but he thought he understood it. 

Techno and Tommy were unlikely friends, but Phil could see how it worked. 

He might’ve initially been curious, suspicious even, of the way they treated each other, but he was satisfied. By all means they were great friends. Nothing was off, except for Phil's paranoia kicking it's head.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it Ian?” Phil asked one of his closest crows, one of the few that roosted around his own nest. “Long time since Techno made friends.”

“Especially with that butcher army… y’know I was worried about having to calm him down, patch him up, the usual. He looks… bright, though. People are good for him. He never was happy lonely,” Phil mused. 

“He’d build places up just to tear down, kept moving and fighting until me or a friend forced him to stop for a while. Never did understand what he was looking for.” 

Phil closed his eyes, the soft sound of feathers shifting lulling him to rest. 

“Feels like he found it. Proud of ‘im,” Phil muttered, slipping into sleep. “If anyone… anyone deserves a happy endin’ it’s those two.” 

A log crackled from the fireplace, tundra filling with dreams until dawn.

—

Tommy was pressed up right against the glass of the window, breathing heavily in soft exhales of hot air, trying to create condensation on the window pane. He wanted to doodle on it as he waited for Phil’s door to open– maybe he’d draw those enchantment runes Techno had been showing him. Or a dick. Really it was up to the wind to decide these days. 

He kept breathing, but the condensation stubbornly faded a few heartbeats later each time. 

“It won’t work, Tommy,” Techno muttered from behind him, a large hand covering his shoulders and settling warmth down his spine. Techno moved past him to walk to the kitchen, checking on the stew he’d put on a few hours ago. 

“Why not?” Tommy asked, slumping into the wall.

“It’s too warm in here for that. Your breath isn’t that much warmer in comparison,” Techno said louder over the sounds of pots as he shuffled around doing something or other. Tommy didn’t know. 

“Ugh.” 

“Don’t be like that, you like it when it’s warm when you come in from outside don’t you?” 

“I guess, ” Tommy said. “I just didn’t realize it was the same temperature here as it is inside of me, or whatever.” 

“It’s not,” Techno said. “It’s quite a bit colder than that, but it’s all comparative. How did you think the icicles alongside the windows formed if not from melting, though? The window has to get hot enough for that to happen after all.” 

“I don’t know, Blade, perhaps I am so much cooler than you and don’t think about physics ‘n all that in my free time. I’m a simple man of simple pleasures–” Tommy caught a glimpse of light from the corner of his eye, and he straightened up quickly. “Phil’s here!” 

Techno laughed and Tommy ran to the door, pulling it open right as Phil was going to knock. 

“Come in, come in!” Tommy yelled, bravado boosting his energy and causing him to get loud.

“Inside voice!” Techno yelled over. 

Tommy rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his lips as Phil cackled, hints of a caw creeping in at the ends. A sharp wind bit through Tommy’s shirt as he pushed the door shut tight. Okay, maybe he didn’t mind Techno’s Nether raised brain keeping the cabin piping hot in the tundra. 

Phil hadn’t bothered to put on much cold gear for the short walk across the bridge, but he did take his shawl off, shaking his wings out as he did so. Tommy watched the black feathers fall over each other, rustling and fluffing like a real bird’s would. 

He didn’t know why in his head they wouldn’t behave the way other feathered creatures would– of course they weren’t static, almost glued to the wing slapped on a human body. Techno might’ve been outwardly more dissimilar to a human, but Tommy was slowly learning that appearances weren’t even half the understanding. 

Phil and Techno caught each other in a hug, Edward vocalizing in the background as the two exchanged pleasantries. Phil turned back around and caught Tommy staring. The avian didn’t say anything, but did quirk an eyebrow. 

Tommy blushed, but did his best to cover it. “Just curious– do they get cold?” He nodded towards the shawl still in Phil’s hands. 

Phil’s face softened. 

“Nah, not really,” Phil said, lifting one wing closer to Tommy for emphasis. “The wings are great for warmth, just like your regular old bird. The feathers lock in with each other and keep heat in to the bits I can actually feel. It’s more for the snow,” Phil said, folding the wing to once more be closer to his back. “I don’t produce the right kind of oil to make these bad boys waterproof, so if snow gets caught and melts on them inside then it’ll be uncomfortable for a while. Most of the time I wear an enchantment so I don’t have to worry about it but I couldn’t be arsed to find another one that wasn’t close to breaking right before coming over.” 

Tommy made a satisfied noise, curiosity put off at least temporarily. 

“As riveting as this conversation is, can we continue it sitting down? Eating maybe?” Techno said, holding a board with steaming slices of bread on it. 

Tommy nodded rapidly. 

“Of course, of course, I was simply waiting for you! Age before beauty y’know,” Tommy said, bowing his arms out towards the table. 

Phil cackled at that, rising onto his toes before walking over. 

“Oh, it’s about time you had someone do that back to you Tech!” 

“Don’t even start to come at me, Phil,” Techno said, a long-suffering look on his face. “He’s more creative than I ever was.” 

They sat down slightly awkwardly. Tommy almost felt like he’d had an assigned seat, so having three chairs was slightly awkward, a little more cramped. It wasn’t awful though, as Techno set three bowls down, with the bread and toppings in the middle. Tommy went to grab his butter knife with relish, ignoring how Techno rolled his eyes at the tight grip he held on it. 

Techno silently pushed a small bowl next to Tommy’s seat, and he looked down to find snow inside it. Tommy looked up and scowled. He knew that Techno took time to make sure his food was cooled down before he ate it, but as he’d served them all at the same time, his bowl was just as piping hot as when it came off the stove.

If Tommy were how he’d been just a month ago, he may have shoved his spoon into his mouth straight away out of spite. With some experience, no matter how reluctant, in accepting help, he shoved his spoon into the snow spitefully, before stirring it with a glare. 

Techno ignored this, making a snort that Tommy firmly placed in the “good” category. It was kind of hard to tell, in all honesty. One of these days Techno was going to do the piglin version of sarcasm and Tommy would give up entirely. 

Phil coughed, drawing Tommy and Techno’s attention away from their silent exchange and back to the dinner at hand. 

“This is great stew mate,” Phil said. “What meat did you use to get it tender like this?” 

“It’s mutton, actually,” Techno said. “You can’t use wild sheep for it though. Gotta be farmed, otherwise they aren’t brought up with enough fat marbling to make the texture right. This is an older sheep I kept for wool who had a leg break. Just put her out of the misery.” 

Phil nodded, eating more. Tommy tried his own stew which was still almost bordering on too hot, but was manageable as long as he blew on it before eating. To prevent it from looking like he was weak or something like that, he took to scooping up the vegetables of the stew in little bread gloves. 

Techno said it ruined his appetite, but Tommy was a growing teenage boy! If Techno was serious about it he’d simply take away Tommy’s food for a bit. (Techno had never done that, and looked horrified the second Tommy mentioned it in passing. Tommy ignored how warm that made his chest feel. It was the stew, he swore on Prime.) 

Sure enough, Techno watched as Tommy nabbed more slices of bread, but kept up polite conversation with Phil instead of chiding him. 

“We never really did talk about why you didn’t comm in your date, Phil,” Techno said, almost rumbling with his low piglin voice. “I just started watching the birds fly in and guessed.” 

“Ah, you know it was a short window of time. Like what a surprise!” Phil said, laughing. “The chaos was so sudden, I knew if I was making a clean break I had to head out the minute I did– and connection’s spotty if you’re moving all the time.”

“Chaos?” Tommy asked. “Where at? Where were you living before?” 

“I moved in into a premade house for sale on the outskirts of New L’Manburg,” Phil said. “But you know, with a quote unquote tragedy that widespread, the chaos is pretty much everywhere.” 

Techno and Tommy paused, looking at each other. Tommy felt his heart jump into his throat. 

“You know… right?” Phil asked, a sense of hesitation creeping into his tone. “There’s no way you avoided the news.” 

Techno cleared his throat, and Tommy looked down at his brown bowl. 

“You’re talking about… the egg?” Techno tried.

Phil’s spoon clattered on the table. 

“Tech, tell me you keep more informed than that. I saw your name in the world chat just a few days ago.” 

“It was just the letter L, Phil,” Techno defended. “You know. Kicking the ants nest.”

“You didn’t bother to read the conversation?” Phil asked, slightly incredulous. 

“The world chat is always up in arms about something , Phil. You have to concede that,” Techno tried. 

“Gifted,” Tommy said. “Prime knows that I muted that thing before my comm started getting glitchy and weird.” 

“Neither of you are plugged into it at all?” Phil asked, leaning back in his chair. 

“Not really,” Techno hedged. “I do look at it, and I have a mailbox that people have sent stuff too. Also I was just in L’Manburg, so I didn’t think anything changed that rapidly. I mean, what’s the worst that could have changed. Did they elect yet another corrupt government official?”

Tommy gave Techno a glare for that one, it was a touchy subject. 

“I used to check in whenever I could,” Tommy muttered. “But after— I was sent away, it didn’t seem worth it. Ghostbur brought me the news, and– I knew what was going on, even if I didn’t read it in person.” 

“So you don’t know,” Phil said, light, almost laughing, tinged with shock. “Well, maybe you do know… living all the way out here.” 

“Stop being cryptic, Phil,” Techno said. “It got old several decades ago.” 

Phil fluffed his wings at that (positive? Negative? Tommy had no clue. Gosh he was going to have to learn more body language wasn’t he. Ugh.) 

“Do you both see wandering players come through?” Phil asked, which was a wild topic change. Maybe someone famous showed up?

“A few,” Techno said. “Mostly people with friends in the SMP, you know the ilk.” 

“Can either of you recall anyone by the name of Martha? Would have been with someone maybe called ‘Jan’ or ‘Dice.’ Something short for Jaundice.” 

“Who names their kid after jaundice ,” Tommy asked. “That’s almost as bad as naming someone after… a disease. Huh.” 

“You ever meet them?” Phil asked. 

“No, no,” Tommy said. “But one of my– close friends– is named Tuberculosis. So.” 

The three of them paused to take that in. Maybe there was a familial relation… but Tubbo had never mentioned family. 

Techno had a deep frown on his face.

“Why, though Phil. Why are you asking?” Techno asked, setting his bowl to the side, finished with his meal. 

“It’s the two of them,” Phil said. “Both of them were involved with a, presumably, huge confrontation with Dream.” 

Tommy’s 

world

faded 

out.

“What?” he said, but the static in his head made the sound lapse into silence. 

Dream.

He’d avoided him. He’d escaped— gotten rid of everything that even reminded him of him so why was he still here? 

“Drop your things in the hole,” Dream said, and Tommy hitched on a sob. 

“Drop– it,   in the hole  — panic— Tommy!” It was Dream and not dream and he could see the white white white from his mask looking through the window 

“Tommy,” he heard, garbled, but Tommy was running fast, running like he couldn’t run before this all began, closing his eyes to not see the snow except there wasn’t any snow it was all pink. 

Pink like pigs, like piglins, like Techno. Prime’s blessings be granted, don’t let Dream have gotten to Techno too. 

“Confrontation” he heard echo again and again, Phil’s voice repeating– that was an attack. Tommy gripped whatever was in his hands, feeling himself move but stuck in the thoughts. Dream had attacked. Not here, not yet– but he could, he could attack Techno and Blitz and Carl and Edward—

But Techno wouldn’t let that happen. 

Tommy was warm, he was safe, he was being moved, it was Techno who had him. Techno could face down anyone, could beat Dream. Techno was safe from Dream—

Tommy was safe, from Dream, with Techno. 

Slowly, Tommy felt himself come back to the body. His limbs were staticky and the toes on his left foot were crushed a bit, but he could feel Techno’s voice rumble through him as he talked with Phil, and a bit of Phil’s replies. 

“-back soon,” Techno was saying. “He’s like, sleeping with his eyes open and body running, or something.” 

“Do humans… usually do that?” Phil asked.

“It’s a trauma response, dissociation from PTSD, I think it’s called for them. You remember all the piglins who got skull shock after the Wither Wars?” 

“Ah yeah,” Phil said.

“Like that, but rebranded and not as mean about it,” Techno said. 

“So– is it Wither related?”

“I’m– not entirely sure. It’s hard to talk about when he–” Techno moved a bit, and Tommy’s brain filled in several motions he could have made. 

“‘S him ” Tommy said, too tired still for words. 

“Him?” Techno muttered, rubbing Tommy’s back unconsciously. “Who— oh. Ah okay.” 

“Who? Dr–” Phil started, Techno cutting him off. 

“Okay okay– I won’t say it, but why?” 

“It’s probably related to the fighting, Doomsday ‘n all,” Techno said. Tommy hummed in agreement. 

“If anything he should be happy, though,” Phil said, confused. 

“Not much to be happy about with an altercation like you said,” Techno said. “Especially if it was nearby where Tommy’s friends lived.” 

“But– it’s not. I’m not getting this across well, am I,” Phil said. “Tommy should be happy, because no one really knows what’s going on, except that Dream is likely dead.” 

Chapter Text

Techno was going to pray in front of his bell for a long time this evening. 

“Tommy should be happy, because no one really knows what’s going on, except that Dream is likely dead.”

A long, long time.  

Tommy’s breath hitched and he seemed to still under Techno’s careful hands. Something laughing rose in the back of Techno’s head, and he got a long suffering impression at the situation as a whole. 

“Don’t dance around the topic, Phil,” Techno said, oddly serious. “Why does everyone think the tribesman-betrayer choked it?” 

Phil made a clicking noise in the back of his throat. 

“It’s quite simple really,” Phil said, cocking his head. “He’s been pretty silent the past few months. Hasn’t hung around the city much, replied to texts sporadically. Given that he’s an admin, everyone kind of figured that he was out by the borders of the server— fixing a bug, strengthening his firewall, something that those folk don’t bother to tell regular server members.” 

Tommy made a pained noise, and Techno grabbed one of the heavier furs they had laying nearby to tug over him. He could feel his shoat’s fingers gripping tightly, stretching his shirt, but didn’t chide him for his grip. This was a safety reflex in humans, but it was one for birds too. With the two sounder members he sat with, Techno resigned himself to the state of his shirts. (He could always buy or make more. It was much more difficult to craft relationships.) 

“One day, we saw a death message in the world chat. Dream was slain by Martha. It was- a bit of a shock. Definitely not something we expected to see— especially as no one knew who Martha was. Then, not even a minute later, Dream was slain by Jaundice. Dream was slain by Martha. Dream was poked to death by a sweet berry bush while trying to escape Jaundice. Then, the messages stopped coming. People reached out, unsure if something had gone wrong while testing a new feature… ultimately when the messages stopped even being received: like Dream’s comm was out of range or power, people caught on to the fact that some of those had been canonical.”

“It’s crazy,” Phil laughed. “By his own rules, Dream can’t interact with the server anymore. Even though two rogue players infiltrated a rough patch in the firewall while he was out sulking, something Dream was doing was quote unquote plot relevant enough that he’s gone— we think for good. He must have run out of lives. It’s the only thing that makes sense at this point.” 

Tommy was a sobbing smiling mess on Techno’s lap, gripping onto Techno for dear life. Techno sat back and rocked him closer. He didn’t know why Tommy would react this way– but ultimately felt too awkward to ask. 

Techno comforted his shoat, making snuffling grunts and patting at Tommy’s back as they gently rocked. Tommy’s tears were quiet, but each minute that passed without them subsiding was a little stab at his pride as a brute. 

He was doing all he could, and Techno held onto that fact like a lifeline. 

The voices rose in the back of his head, amused, knowing, and slowly but surely things began to click into place inside Techno’s mind. 

Dream had a fascination with Tommy. There were patterns, odd looks, questions where one wouldn’t expect… When Tommy came to live with Techno, he’d probably come straight from a hellscape of Dream’s creation. 

Dream wouldn’t have let him go, not easily. 

He might have tracked Tommy down. 

“I need to check on something,” Techno said. It sounded like it was 100 blocks away as his thoughts were whirling. 

Tommy clutched onto his shirt, and Techno’s heart smarted as he gently passed the shoat over to Phil. Tommy let go of his shirt and clutched the blanket instead, looking far off into the distance– but his shoulders were relaxed, not tight. 

Phil looked delighted to have a child in his lap again, and his wings rose shakily, out of practice, to cocoon Tommy in darkness. They’d be fine. 

Techno donned his cold gear, thick cloak and heavy boots. He grabbed some of the bones they kept by the door and headed out towards the edge of their property. 

Unbidden, a day from several weeks ago rose in his mind, chat tinging the edges as they pointed out what he couldn’t see then. 

The wolves that had blitzed off to the treeline had returned, maws slightly bloody, but not carrying a carcass to share.

“You all just ate,” Techno said. “No need to terrorize the poor wildlife. What got you all so riled up?” Techno examined the treeline again, and very very close to the ground there was just the slightest hint at bright green.

“A creeper? At least that’ll despawn pretty quick. Thanks guys,” he said, leaning down to give the ones closest to him pats and scratches along their heads. “I don’t know how one slipped past the torches, but I’ll check the area out tomorrow hm?” 

He’d never checked it out, getting caught up in chores and conversations and enjoying life with Tommy.

He walked out to the same area of the treeline, and there it was. 

Bloodstained, the ruins of Dream’s signature hoodie lay torn, half buried in a snow drift. Chunks of bit-off leather belt were strewn around, and the surrounding trees had signature perfectly circular burns from where items had burst from scattered death and despawned in glitching light. 

Reaching down, Techno ran his hand through the snow lightly until he felt cool hard clay. Dream’s mask, knocked off, barely cracked at the temple lay pristine. 

Well. Dream was certainly dead. 

His mask was a symbol of his admin-hood, something that visiting members could use to identify him. He was able to enter the code to kill-switch or vanish the item if he were still able to interact on this plane. 

Techno walked back to the dog house, stepping in and looking over the masses of roiling grey, white, and black fur. Honestly, Techno should have clocked the naming conventions easily. 

Techno started walking through the sections, looking for the “adult mom” group that he’d seen guarding Tommy that day. Each nametag just made more sense. Felicity. Banana. Troy. Eyebite. Liz. Confused. Chat had delighted in the nonsensical naming structure. 

Some wolves were named after chat members themselves, others bequeathed weird little names of objects, emotions, and evidently diseases. 

Finally, he found both of them. Martha and Jaundice. 

“Hey sweet girls,” Techno cooed, petting them. “Can you leave puppy guarding duty for tonight? I think your big puppy inside may want to say thank you.” 

The words were sweet and nonsensical, because he was talking to animals. Techno’s hounds were smart, though, and they recognized the nice tone. Martha and Jaundice stood, tails wagging, and he gave them each a bone to carry. 

“Come on,” Techno said, guiding them through the door. They walked back to the cabin, and Techno saw Phil’s shadow standing in the window, turning towards the inside. 

Tommy opened the door before they reached the top of the steps, confusion on his slightly blotchy face. 

“Techno, you prick!” Tommy said, though it lacked the usual emphasis and bluster he usually gave. “I’ve had an emotionally distressing evening and instead of making me hot chocolate you left. ” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Techno said, shuffling them all through the door. Martha and Jaundice sniffed at Tommy, using their large frames to push him over to the couch. “I needed to check on something I remembered.” 

Techno walked over into the kitchen, starting to make Tommy a mug of hot chocolate as requested. 

“You usually procrastinate for a while. Must’ve been bloody important,” Phil said, standing in the doorway so he could see both of them. 

“You could say so,” Techno said. “Just putting my mind at ease.” 

“From what? Dream’s dead,” Phil said. 

“Do you know that for sure though?” Tommy asked from the couch. “I mean you said it made sense, but who’s to say that bastard wouldn’t defy expectations.” 

“He’s dead,” Techno said, leaving no room for doubt in his tone. 

“You’re sure?” Tommy asked, voice small. 

“Who are you cuddling with?” Techno asked instead of replying. The milk on the stove began to bubble, and he stirred it continuously while the melted chocolate incorporated.

“Uhhh let me check their tags. Hey– budge over you guys, stop licking–”

Tommy went silent. 

“That’s not cryptic at all , sure,” Phil said, rounding the corner to try and peer over Tommy’s shoulder. 

“I found your two ‘rogue players’ is all.” 

“What?” Phil asked, looking back at Techno who was rooting for a mug in his cabinets. “You found them that quickly but didn’t recognize their names?” 

“Not immediately, Phil, it’s easy to lose track. They’re sitting right there.” 

“All I see is Tommy and-” Phil caught on. “Two wolves.” 

“Martha and Jaundice,” Tommy said quietly, petting them carefully. 

“Right about when you said, Phil, me and Tommy had an unusual occurrence when feeding the wolves,” Techno began. “The wolves got riled up, and ran to the treeline after Tommy started dissociating. I figured he was tired and overworked, so I brought him inside.” His voice became easier to hear from the living room as he turned the stove off, and poured the hot chocolate into a mug painted with chicks. (The mug was Tommy’s favorite, he delighted in both the baby chickens, and referring to the “chicks” as if they were women, or even women that would date him. Techno refused to laugh, even though the bit was funny.)

“The wolves came back shortly and I thought I saw a foot of a creeper corpse right where we were still trying to place torches and fill in dark spots,” Techno said, walking into the living room. “They’ve gone after other prey, like zombies and skeletons, before. They’re attack dogs.” 

Phil hummed. 

“It wasn’t a creeper,” Techno said. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out Dream’s slightly cracked mask, tossing it lightly onto the edge of the couch. “It was the bright neon green of Dream’s corpse.” 

Tommy had one hand clasped over his mouth, and the other reached out to shakily trace the cracks in the clay. 

“He’s dead. For good,” Tommy murmured, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. 

“For good,” Techno echoed. 

“I freaked out, dissociated, whatever, because I thought I saw him,” Tommy said, stronger. “When I woke up later I thought it was a hallucination.” 

Phil’s wings ruffled, and he perched on top of a kitchen stool. “That’s about as real as it gets,” he said, chirping at Techno’s eyeroll. 

Techno handed Tommy his hot chocolate, mixed with a little blaze powder. 

Tommy started sipping, using one hand to hold the mug and the other to switch between petting Martha and Jaundice, who had taken up guarding positions the same way they did for the pups of the packs. 

Tommy’s eyes narrowed a bit. 

“Is this your way of drugging me to get me to go to bed again?” he said at the spice. 

“Nah,” Techno said. “You’re going to fall asleep anyway. It’s just blaze powder because you like the taste.” 

Tommy couldn’t refute that. 

After a few minutes, Techno got up to do the dishes, and Phil followed him to the kitchen. They kept up a light conversation. Tommy cooed at the dogs for a while, before sleep seemed to get the best of him. Edward creaked and the fireplace crackled. 

Phil finally leant forward. 

“So the bastard must’ve deserved it if you called him a tribesman-betrayer so readily,” Phil said, under his breath, but not pitching into a whisper in case Tommy was only dozing. 

“He deserves it,” Techno said, netherite underlaying his tone. “You saw how Tommy reacted.” 

“Yeah,” Phil said, dropping his head and looking at his hands. “Yeah.” 

“You and me, we’re not used to this kind of life. This server is new for us,” Techno said. “It’s a change of pace, but we shouldn’t have ignored the problem under our snouts.” 

“I’m realizing that,” Phil said, suddenly weary. His face darkened, years starting to creep to the surface. “I should have realized sooner. The letters from– you know, you read them, so sporadic! So– fraught with tension and chaos, and I brushed it aside as a traveling young adult.”

“He wanted you to brush it aside,” Techno said. “I’m starting to learn that you can’t let them do that, though.” 

“ Humans ,” Phil said. “When will I ever understand them?” 

“I don’t think you can,” Techno said, a hint of a laugh entering his voice. “All you can do is love them.”

Phil cracked a smile, the light starting to glint off of his eyes once more. 

“You’ve picked up one of your own too,” he teased. “Never thought I’d see the day.” 

Techno snorted, loud and ugly, shaking his head. 

“I’m happy though, happy for you both,” Phil said. 

“Me too,” Techno said, glancing into the living room, drying his hands off on the towel. “I will be the first one to admit that it’s better late than never.” 

“It’s better than getting a cat, that’s for sure,” Phil said, laughing. 

“I thought we promised to never speak of that again?” Techno said. 

“It’s funny, though, and I feel like I’m owed a laugh after the rollercoaster of a night we’ve had.” 

“Fine, then, take your laughs while you still can.”

“What does that mean,” Phil squawked. “Oh, don’t start this now-”

“We’ll miss your cackling crow laughter when you move on from this life-”

“You’re not allowed to make elderly jokes! Tommy makes them about you now, we’re supposed to be united in this,” Phil said, louder, but still laughing. 

“-your wife will be sure to send some of chat every now and then to remind us of you.” 

“I’m not here for this,” Phil said. 

“Pity, are your bones creaking? Do you want your spare cane?” 

“Goodbye, Technoblade,” Phil said. “I’ll see you around tomorrow morning, I’m sure.” 

“Goodbye Phil,” Technoblade said, dropping the joking tone. “I’m sure Tommy would also say goodnight if he were awake. We’ll see you around.” 

Phil shot a wave over his shoulder, and, huffing with restrained laughter and annoyance, darted back over the bridge for the night. 

Techno climbed into the loft, shutting the hatch, before gently ringing the bell and praying. 

You knew this would happen, he thought when chat rose up as they always did when he began prayer. The cacophony coalesced into a single “HA. E.” before they went back to their chattering. If Techno really paid attention, which he didn’t, he would have listened to them talking about a “racoonboi” and “sleepyinnit pog” which Techno 100% didn’t hear or find cute. 

Techno knelt before his altar, thanking the Blood God: for blessing his wolves, for gifting him the right forethought, for whatever he could think of. It’s done. He’s dead. The weight of any possible returning favor disappeared from looming over Techno’s head. 

He rang his bell to close out his period of worship. Chat went back to being an omnipresent audience which Techno chose to tune out, and he walked back downstairs to Tommy’s sleeping form. 

He carefully lifted the shoat up to his side, so he could use one hand to carry them up to the den. He made sure the fire would burn bright through the night, before blowing out the torches in the kitchen and ascending. 

Tommy almost stirred, but with his nose pressed into Techno’s cape, settled quickly. 

Techno made sure that the shoat was dressed comfortably, and pulled off his own rough outer layers. He cocooned Tommy in lighter blankets, knowing his tendency to roll around at night and unable to stifle his hindbrain which truly believed Tommy would shiver to death without them. 

Thank you, he thought to whomever was listening. Thank you for getting rid of him.  

The inhabitants of the tundra slept easy.

—-

Tommy wouldn’t admit it outloud, but he wasn’t sure about where to go from here. After Phil’s revelation, it seemed like a weight had lifted off of Tommy’s shoulders. He hadn’t even truly recognized that he wasn’t truly moving on until he expected resistance against his burgeoning emotions only to topple, unrestrained. 

If Tommy was who he’d been weeks, months, ago, he probably would’ve bolted. 

Ran for the hills, back to his friends back to L’Manburg, right into the thick of it all as was his right as a Man of Prime in his prime (ha!). 

Against all that, though, Tommy was still here. 

He was definitely a little more free around Phil, now. Part of him was waiting for the ball to drop, for Phil to look at Tommy’s clinging and proclaim him weird as hell– not that Tommy would’ve blamed him, but it still would’a hurt, y’know? 

Techno insisted that Phil didn’t find it weird, so Tommy was playing a weird form of chicken with Phil’s sensibilities. 

That Night, Phil had seen Tommy cry and reach to Techno for comfort, hugs, whatever. He vaguely remembered Techno explaining dissociation but knowing him there was probably something that went over his head. 

This was weird.

If Tommy thought about it for too long though, he’d start blushing with embarrassment (not poggers) and Techno would start throwing him around (admittedly, pretty cool.) 

Tommy walked straight up to Techno and Phil, who were standing in a cavern, discussing Phil’s building plans.

“Straight up to the roof, blah blah blah, blue concrete, stuff and things, measurements,” Phil said. 

“Consider looking here, pointing at things, blocks and strength and math for losers,” Techno responded. 

Well okay, maybe not, but Tommy wasn’t willing to pay attention to it regardless. 

He wasn’t purposefully being quiet, but he wasn’t stomping either. One of Techno’s hands was wrapped around a map, holding it for Phil, so Tommy walked to his other side and just grabbed his hand. 

No hi, no hello, just stood there. When Techno didn’t yank it away, he gently swung their hands, looking around the cavern. Phil and Techno kept talking. 

Man. Not the reaction he hoped for. Oh hey, was that mud over there? 

Tommy distractedly pulled his hand away from Techno’s, walking over to poke the ground with a stick. He watched as little bugs hopped around the area, the sticks sinking into the soft texture of mud. 

He probably would’ve hopped in himself if Techno wouldn’t make him actually clean his nice shoes instead of crafting another pair. Besides, they were fur lined for warmth, and getting that stuff out was a pain . 

Techno rubbed his shoulders, and Tommy stood back up. 

“Hey shoat,” Techno said. “We’re done scaping out the place, and we’re thinking about heading back. Want to help me with the cows?” 

“Uh, duh?” Tommy said. “Let’s get a move on!” 

Phil was laughing, or one of his weird little birds was here, laughing for him. 

When he looked back at Phil’s face, there wasn’t a sign of his behavior being weird to Phil. Guess he’d have to up the ante. 

The next day Tommy sucked on applesauce as they ate hard bread for a midday snack. No reaction. 

The day after that, Tommy climbs onto Techno’s shoulders. The piglin didn’t realize what he was doing at first, but crouched over and stayed still as Tommy figured it out. 

There was a solid difference in knowing that someone was four blocks tall, being held to their three blocks tall chest’s height, and sitting on their shoulders so they were almost five blocks off the ground. 

Tommy’s stomach swooped a little as he looked down and Techno straightened up to his full height. Techno’s hands came up to rest on Tommy’s ankles, keeping him in place as he started going around, doing his regular chores. 

When they were in the shed, Tommy grabbed an extra stack of wheat seeds from a high shelf. Techno raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Enacting his plan, when they passed by Phil later and he stopped to talk to Techno, Tommy started scattering seeds down. 

“What’s this?” Phil cried. “You know I’m not actually a bird, right Tommy?” 

“Can you hear that Techno? It’s harder to pick noises out when you’re five blocks tall, I suppose.”

“That’s not how height works and you know it,” Phil said. The old avian was trying to act stern, lecturing, but his face was crinkled up into an almost-smile, and soon the many birds that flew around Phil were perched both on and around Phil, eating the seeds. 

“Okay, you might’ve won this one,” Phil said, letting out his distinct bird-like cackling laugh that was quickly echoed through his flock. Even Techno was snorting out little grunts. 

Tommy crowed about his superiority until Techno tipped him lightly backwards so he hung off of the piglin’s shoulders, bubbling warmth in his gut all the while. 

It had to come to a point though. 

The three of them were going to explore an ocean monument, and Techno just raised a challenging eyebrow as he packed the imprisoner into his bag. Tommy didn’t protest. 

They walked through several biomes, Phil and Techno managing to still swap stories they hadn’t told over the years as Tommy chattered on about his own personal likes and dislikes. Once they reached the shore closest to the map’s coordinates, they set up a small camp. 

It wasn’t difficult to lay down a blanket or two, the food they packed, and excess potions. Whatever would keep them lighter that they didn’t immediately need in the water. 

Phil strove through the waters first, using his long set of extra limbs to propel him in the water even through the fatigue effect. Techno was the one who managed to find and kill the elder guardians while Phil and Tommy tag teamed the smaller guardians and looked for the sponge room.

Tommy downed a glass of milk in an air pocket once his water breathing potion flickered out, getting rid of his fatigue. Then, he quickly drank another water breathing potion, before swimming out and rejoining the older two. 

Tommy wasn’t a fan of the sponge's texture, but there was something satisfying about the noise it made as they harvested it. 

They break the water on the surface, swimming to shore with the sun still high overhead. 

Techno reaches into his pack to pull out Tommy’s food and a furnace, starting to bake the sponge dry. 

Techno and Phil don’t keep up much of a conversation, and the warm air, hard work, and food is just a little too much on Tommy’s body, still recovering from malnutrition and used to frequent naps. The thought of trekking back has him slumping over, upset. 

Phil looks up at where the sun is dipping steadily. 

“It’s about time we head back, or we’ll be fighting mobs the last half stretch,” Phil says, standing and leaning down to stuff items back into storage. 

Techno agrees, starting to stand and join him. Tommy shuffles up and half-heartedly starts to help. Soon, Techno places a hand on Tommy’s neck, then rubs his back. Tommy’s eyes start to close, the rhythmic sounds of the ocean in front of them not helping his case. 

Techno reaches into his pack, pulling the sling out halfway.

“Tommy? You want to walk back?” 

Tommy sees the offer for what it is. Phil is still there, keeping an eye on the interaction and Techno doesn’t know if Tommy would be willing to use the wrap with him there– of everything Techno does to accommodate his healing, this is the most childish thing that remains. 

Tommy should probably refuse, suck it up and walk back. 

But– he’s tired. 

Tired from the great day they’ve had, tired of pretending that he’s independent before he should be, tired of waiting for the pickaxe of Phil’s reaction to drop. He reaches his hands up in the universal “carry me” gesture, and Techno’s shoulders relax, pulling the cloth fully from his pack. 

It doesn’t take him long to ensure it’s strung correctly, and soon Tommy is being lifted, legs wrapping around Techno’s torso to find the familiar crooks to rest. His back is soon enveloped in the wrap, his ear pressed to Techno’s chest. 

He listens, but can’t hear Phil saying anything. 

Techno speaks, and it rumbles through Tommy’s head. 

“Ready?” 

Phil agreed, and they set back to where Tommy calls home. He takes little time at all to fall asleep to a steady sway and calm heartbeat. 

The pickaxe never falls. 

Phil doesn’t bring it up the next day, or the one after. He doesn’t treat Tommy any different. 

Tommy thinks that any possible tension between them is on him. He just wants it over, and Tommy is many things but subtle probably isn’t one of them. 

“Let’s talk about the hoglin in the room,” Tommy says one evening, throwing himself over the back of the couch to talk to Phil. 

“Hm?” Phil says, like the prick he is. 

“You aren’t asking any questions,” Tommy says, coming right out of the gate. It’s a bit weird to get to the point and not be afraid of being scolded, but Techno is adamant in few things and Tommy’s safety for curiosity is one of them. 

“What does that mean,” Phil says. “I wasn’t aware that I had to be asking questions?” 

“It’s just slightly a sign of a wrong-un,” Tommy says. “Me and Techno have been weird and you haven’t said anything. Are you a weird old man?”

“Don’t- don’t phrase anything like that, ever again,” Phil says. “What are you on about? You and Tech have been fine, unless I’ve missed something the past few days…”

Tommy sits up straighter, then leans into Phil’s space, staring into his birdy little eyes. 

“Hm.” he says, then promptly thinks about it. 

Techno and Phil are two peas in a pod. They act alike, think alike, and have been around each other for years. What are the chances…

“Hey Phil,” Tommy starts, tone bright but face blank.

“Yes Tommy?” 

“When did you put Wilbur down and never pick him back up again?”

Phil makes a clicking sound in the back of his throat.

“I suppose he was around six or seven,” Phil says. “The wings aren’t just for show, you know. I used to get myself up off the ground, and to do that I needed hollow bones– that’s not conducive to carrying kids.” 

“I see,” Tommy says, not seeing much but it seemed the polite thing to say. “If you could have, would you keep carrying him?”

Phil pauses for a second, considering the question.

“Well,” Phil began, “I would have carried him for a while longer but around… thirteen I would’ve stopped. That’s right about when I started making him do some of his own shopping, chores and the like. If he didn’t tell you, I waited to leave him alone for longer periods of time until he was sixteen, seventeen, thereabouts.”

“Why ‘waited,’” Techno says from the other room. “You would’ve left earlier?” 

“I mean, I wanted to,” Phil says. Tommy gives him a look. “It’s not to do about love or sappy stuff like that, stop looking my way like that– it’s just… instinct I suppose. But Wilbur wasn’t ready, he wasn’t grown yet, so I waited.” 

Tommy hums, considering.

“What about me, Phil?” Tommy asks. 

Techno has caught onto the line of questioning and pokes his head in the room to make sure Tommy’s alright before returning to some chore or other. 

“What about you?” Phil replies.

“I mean. Techno picks me up, do you not find that odd?”

Phil tilts his head. 

“Should I find it odd?”

Tommy blinks heavily.

“You don’t have to–but I think most people would.”

“Do you find it odd, Tommy?” Phil asks.

“What kind of–you’re definitely a little wrong-un, Phil, that’s a weird question. If you must know I do find it a little odd. Not the most odd, certainly not, and less so than I did at first, but it definitely isn’t normal.” 

“Tommy, if there’s one thing to know about me and Techno, it’s that we’re both rather odd,” Phil says, laughing. “You get used to it around us.”

“So, to clarify, you didn’t think anything was weird about the way Techno treats me? Like as a kid and stuff?”

“I mean, no?”

“Man,” Tommy says, “no wonder neither of you really fit in with humans.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” Phil laughs. “But I don’t really think Techno treats you like a kid if you’re worried about it.” 

“You don’t?” Tommy asks. 

“Nah,” Phil says. “Sure he carried you the other day, and he provides your food and all that, but he would offer you less choices and talk more formally to you if he really considered you a kid.”

Tommy considered this. It wasn’t like he’d seen Techno interact with a lot of other children, the server wasn’t exactly bursting with them, but Phil’s words began to click into place. When Techno had thought Tommy truly had entered a baby mode of sorts, he didn’t joke around. He wouldn’t have thrown Tommy over his shoulder or ask him his opinions. When Techno talked to Tommy he talked to him like he did to Phil. It wasn’t the same, there was some sense of responsibility there… but it wasn’t constricting.

“I guess the more pressing question is if you’d want that,” Phil says.

“Huh?” Tommy says, paying closer attention to the conversation at hand and not getting lost in his own head. “Would I want to be treated like a kid? By the Nether, no.”

Phil laughs. 

“That was a quick decision,” he said.

“It’s just the Prime blessed truth is what it is,” Tommy says. “Maybe years ago I’d’ve thought more about it and come to that conclusion, but I’ve spent too long being treated as an adult. I’ve been through war, lived on the streets… I don’t think I could get that childish nature back.” 

“I’d wondered,” Phil says. “I looked around a bit discreetly, and there are people who do mentally get a bit younger to escape from trauma. There’s no shame in that, even if you’ve lived as an adult for a long time. It’s about healing, not being weird.” 

“Nah, that’s not what’s happening,” Tommy says. “As much as Techno got confused and calls it,” he wrinkles his nose, “ baby mode I’m really not turning back the clock. Just… escaping. Dissociation is about getting out of your head, not being you, n’all that. I’m not becoming who I was when I was younger– if anything he’s more messed up than I am,” Tommy laughs, shaking his head. 

Techno comes around the corner with cookies for them all. Phil accepts one with a chirp and Tommy tries to find the words that make it all make sense. 

“I’ve always said you’re a shoat, Tommy,” Techno says. “Not a milksop by any means.” 

“Yeah, that works,” Tommy says. “In human terms, I’m like a teenager. I mean I literally am still a teenager, but I’m not a young kid. I have some independence to me and Techno does some of that providing work so I feel… freer, I guess you could say. Also not being beat up or surrounded by illegal drugs all day, so that’s a major plus,” he jokes. 

Techno’s eyes are sad as he drapes a blanket over Tommy’s shoulders. 

“Shoat or not you’ll have a place here,” Techno says. There’s almost a bit too much sincerity in this conversation. Tommy’s chest is warm and light and there’s a happiness here in the arctic tundra he never thought he’d find. 

“Well with how elderly you both are I suppose everyone looks like a child,” Tommy says, and sniffs. Phil immediately lets out a true caw of a laugh, like the ones his flock give when someone trips and falls outside. Techno huffs indignantly, but rolls his eyes like he can tell Tommy is just joking to make the situation light. 

“These elderly bones can still throw you around,” he threatens, standing up straight so his four block height starts to tower over the both of them. 

Tommy shrieks, using his feet to scrape at the couch, but it’s too smooth for him to get much traction and the blankets aren’t helping. He’s picked up and tossed over Techno’s shoulder while he faux cries. 

It’s disgustingly domestic. Tommy’s shrieks fade out into giggles and Techno flips him rightside up on his hip, before walking them both to the kitchen for milk and juice. Tommy hiccups from the slight carbonation as Techno sprinkles a tiny bit of blaze powder to make his juice burn a bit in liu of the healing pots that would’ve made him sleepy. 

The warm feeling never really fades as life goes on. It’s perpetual in it’s sensation, like warm water flowing over his skin after a long day playing with the wolves and feeding the earth for his food. It’s Techno’s hands running through his hair while the fire dances merrily and Edward vwoops and Phil’s birds rustle. 

It’s bright, golden, textured like the sun.

It’s shaped like home. 

—

Epilogue Bits

—

“Oh it’s you,” Techno said. 

Ranboo shrieked.

“I HAVE YOUR ARMOR okay please don’t hurt me I promise I’m not here for anything bad-” 

Tommy comes out of the shed at a dead sprint, fully tackling Ranboo into the latest snowdrift.

“Hi!” Tommy says “I was kinda worried you were going to get eaten alive back there, what with the government and George’s house.” 

“Uhhh… it was fine?” Ranboo said. “I actually, heard that you were dead?” 

“Oh. Yeah nope, not dead,” Tommy said. “Techno’s great, he provides for me, we’re chilling up here.”

“So… if hypothetically I brought my husband who maybe tried to kill him because he thought you were dead he’d be fine?”

“You have a HUSBAND?” Tommy shrieked. “You married someone from this hellscape of a server?” 

“....yes?” Ranboo said, and it came out small.

“Who?!” Tommy yelled, finally getting up so he could stare Ranboo down threateningly. 

“Tubbo? Tuberculosis Underscore?” 

Tommy paused, considered. 

“That son’v’a crossbow didn’t invite me to the wedding? Techno, we didn’t get mail about the wedding right?”

“I did not receive an invitation, nor did Phil, no.” 

“We eloped,” Ranboo cut in. “My house is kinda… gone, and Phil told me there was real estate up here? We’ll build a house and Tubbo’s gonna leave government for good as soon as we can.” 

“Really? Good for you,” Tommy said. He looked over in Techno’s direction. “Are you gonna be weird about this, or can I have them over?”

Techno looked at the both of them, starting to shiver from the snow. He sighed.

“Get inside. Meet Edward so you know all your neighbors,” he said tiredly. 

“Yes! You guys could even be related,” Tommy said, jumping up and yanking on one of Ranboo’s long thin arms. “Make us hot chocolate too!”

Techno gave a commanding rough snort that he heard over the wind, chidingly. 

“Please!”

“In a minute, shoat. Get inside first.”

“Aw hell yeah, Ranboo you’re gonna love this stuff, they don’t serve it on the main server-”

—

“Tommy I swear to Prime above, what were you THINKING,” Tubbo gritted out from a smile, hugging his friend tightly while Ranboo wrang his hands behind them both. 

“Excuse us Mister Blade,” Tubbo said louder, looking at Techno, sitting on the couch reading a book. “My best friend’s made some poor decisions, so I’m going to have a strong conversation with him if you don’t mind?”

“Feel free just don’t spook the horses or foxes if you’re downstairs,” Techno said, turning back to his book.

“Techno, you traitor,” Tommy muttered.

“Thanks Mister Blade!”

“Have him back by dinner.”

“Will do!”

“Ugh, betrayed by the lot of you,” Tommy muttered.

—

“So, Techno, I know we didn’t have an extensive conversation about Piglin physiology after the whole daycare incident, but please, by whatever you swear by, tell me I’m older than him,” Tommy hissed, looking down at Michael.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, see how he’s a zombie piglin?” Techno said. “That’s stopped his growth and development right around those ages. He’ll be a milksop for years, if not forever, because the disease got to his head before it stabilized.”

“That’s crazy. Can he still understand us?”

“You’d have to talk to him, it’s not a blanket kinda thing, Tommy, that’s insensitive.”

“Sure Blade, Slayer of Orphans, next time I’ll be sure to be politically correct.”

“There’s a difference between nice and kind , Tommy.”

“Go be both to my ex bestie and his husband, old man.”

“....I can and will bring the oh so beloathed wrap to our next outing and leave it in a saddlebag they will find.”

“If you weren’t a coward you’d put me in it the next time we’re in the Nether.”

“Hm.”

“Wait Techno I wasn’t serious.”

“Sure.”

“Techno. Please.”

“Sure.”

Tommy stared into Techno’s eyes. He couldn’t read if the mischievousness was from duping Tommy into believing that he’d actually do it, or the malicious compliance.

“So! Technoblade! I hear we have new conversations to talk about,” Tubbo said, breaking up the conversation. 

Technoblade snorted and tilted his head.

“Can you, like, teach us how to talk to our son? That’d be great. Also you and Ranboo can talk about peer pressure over tea.”

“Sure. Hey,” Techno said, glancing down with a too sharp smile at Tommy’s face alighting with horror, “and while we’re at it, it might be cool to see bastion dynamics in action–”

—

“I’m not going to ask him that,” Phil said. 

Chat warbled. Phil warbled back.

They all ruffled their feathers from their high perches. 

Phil sniffed.

“It’d be utterly impolite is what it would be. We’re crafting a fun new commune out here, like the good ol’ days with the Antarctic Empire, you all remember?”

Chat cawed. They would not accept the topic change. (Most of them wouldn’t. Some of them started cooing.)

“It’s not funny either.”

Yes it would be, Chat communicated in pecks and whistles. 

“I cannot believe that–”

Techno and Tommy’s voices came into hearing range. He looked down and saw that they’d probably pass near the tree he was roosted in.

“No.”

Yes, chat demanded. 

“I really shouldn’t,” he said. It was a sign of a crack, or weakness.

Do it for the bit, Philza Minecraft , Chat cawed, flurrying up a storm. Hundreds of beady black eyes stared into his own. We triple dog dare you.

“Aw nooo….” Phil said. 

He dropped out of the tree, landing on Techno’s shoulders. It said a lot about their battle tactics that Techno didn’t flinch.

“So it’s been brought to my attention,” Phil said.

“Phil, is this why Chat’s been in a ruckus?”

“SO IT’S BEEN BROUGHT TO MY ATTENTION,” Phil said, louder. “That I’ve not been living up to my duties.”

“Your duties?” Techno asked, very tired.

“Yes. As an uncle.”

Tommy got a glint in his eyes.

“Dearest nephew! How do you feel about ghast fishing?”

Techno sighed. Loudly. 

“Ghast fishing? Never been,” Tommy said with a grin on his face. “How much fire res do we have on hand?” 

“Blood God give me strength, to rise over my enemies. I pray for resilience in the face of struggle…”

Tommy and Phil laughed. It was a good day.