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It’s the sharp cracking of burning wood from the fireplace that finally pulls him from his thoughts.
He watches idly as the large log fueling the fire finally cracks apart, sending out a final burst of ember and soot. A last sputtering breath before the fire dies completely and the iciness from the blizzard begins creeping back inside.
Techno knows he should get up, that he should replace the log and restart the fire before the cabin gets too cold to stand. He doesn’t, Chat is strangely quiet at the moment and it concerns him more than any hypothermia ever could.
(he ignores the part of him that points out that Chat has been quiet for hours.
that same part of him also points out that him sitting on the couch staring at nothing for the past few hours probably hasn’t helped the matter)
It feels like Chat is holding their breath, like they’re…waiting for something.
In the back of his mind Techno can admit that it feels like there’s something missing from the cabin. A certain warmth that should have been there but isn’t.
(the patter of socked feet running around the house, golden blond hair poking out from mounds of blankets, embarrassed huffs and rumbles accompanied by curses and laughter)
It’s Tommy, it’s him that you miss, a braver member of Chat croons.
“You’re wrong. I couldn’t be happier that that little rat was gone. At least now I won’t have to constantly be crafting golden apples,” he grumbles in response.
(it’s a lie. he misses his runt so much he aches.
still, he would fall on his own sword before his pride took such a blow)
Even though they don’t respond, he feels a faint amusement from Chat. Deep down he knows he can’t lie to them, that he can’t keep secrets when they sit in every corner of his mind. Still he tries, and they have become kind enough to allow him his illusion of privacy.
“It's been a while since I’ve seen Phil,” he murmurs, “the house has been too quiet without him.”
Chat does not grace his words with a response. He is too tired to be angry with them.
It’s as he’s trying to decide whether to reread one of his hundreds of books or simply go to bed and call this day a waste that Chat finally breaks their silence.
Door
Door
Go answer the door
Quickly before he leaves!
Get the treasure
Theseus
Open the door!!
Before he can fully comprehend what he’s doing, Techno finds himself swinging the door to his cabin open. And why did he do that there’s a blizzard outside, what could possibly be so important that-
Grey eyes meet red and the breath the piglin takes is so clear it’s almost like he hasn’t been breathing air for weeks now.
It feels like time freezes as Techno takes in the sight on his front porch. Tommy. Tommy, who he hasn’t seen since doomsday, is standing on his porch. And though he doesn’t swear often, he could confidently say this: Tommy looked like shit.
His hair was longer now, brushing against his collar bones in greasy strands (he remembers running his fingers through that hair, a sort of pride at his sounder’s natural gold). His eyes were still that stormy grey, and they somehow managed to become even duller. Worst of all was Tommy’s clothes, dirty shorts and a threadbare shirt were all that stood between the blond and the blizzard and it had the piglin part of him squealing in distress.
(the human part of him was more concerned with the mottled green and yellow bruising around his arms and legs.
the hand marks around his throat in particular were sparking an unhealthy level of rage within him.
who dared to have laid hands on his runt, his sounder?)
His brain was so focused on the other’s appearance that he barely paid attention to the words that slipped out of his mouth.
“Theseus. I wasn’t aware you had a death wish.”
He was immediately flooded with regret as Chat began to screech at him and Tommy began to tremble. He can feel a chuff building in his throat, the deep rooted need to comfort his sounder growing as the scent of Tommy’s fear fills the air. Chat is, as usual, no help.
Oh he’s so scared
Protect him
Care for the gold
Comfort our runt
He’s on the verge of giving in to Chat and his instincts when the blonde finally speaks.
“Tech- Techno.”
A stuttered movement draws attention to the axe resting in Tommy’s hand. It’s the sight of this weapon that reminds Techno, for all that Tommy acts it, he isn’t a piglin hybrid. Even if he wanted to, Techno could never kill Tommy, his instincts would never allow it. Tommy however, had no such instincts.
(after the butchers army techno learned not to underestimate others, especially teenagers)
It’s with this in mind he places a hand on his sword and levels a light glare at the blond. He has no idea what he came here for but Techno refuses to be murdered in his own home.
“You were right.”
…
What?
Of all the things Techno was expecting the younger to say (curses, guilt and blame, hatred and vitriol) it definitely wasn’t that Techno was right about something.
Techno had told him so many things over the years, to say that he was right could mean anything. He could be saying that Techno was right about potatoes being the best vegetable to grow, he could be saying Techno was right in blowing up L’manberg, he could be saying Techno was right to call him Theseus.
(“if you want to be a hero, then die like one”
…
a stone settles in his gut. if that is what his runt is talking about then he will stop at nothing to be proven wrong.)
It isn’t until Tommy continues talking that he realizes he echoed his initial question out loud.
“You were right. Well, you were right about the axe of peace, I still disagree with what you did to L’manberg asshole.”
(a wave of fondness echoed between him and Chat, of course tommy would still find a way to call him an asshole while admitting he was right about something)
“What are you talking about Theseus?” the barest hint of amusement coats his tone. He feels his posture relax, this clearly isn’t anything serious. Chat disagrees, but what do they know?
“The axe of peace? Come one big man, don’t you remember? You had a whole dramatic speech and everything! Surely you don’t give that fucking many of them. Actually- I take that back you definitely do—”
Once again Chat seems to be holding their breath, and for what he could never guess. What could Tommy possibly say that would-
“You were right when you said I didn’t deserve it. That- that I wasn’t worthy of the axe of peace.”
…
Chat devolves into chaos, cries and babbled apologies overlapping into a litany of regret.
His instincts rage against the words, his runt is worth more than that pathetic axe ever could be, he’s worth the entire universe and then some.
And the part of him that is all Techno, the piece of him free from any voices or instincts, regrets.
The axe of peace was a well known part of his hoard. Him saying Tommy wasn’t worthy of it was as close he could get to saying Tommy wasn’t worthy of his hoard, of a place in his sounder as he could in English. He longs for anger, for hatred, for anything but seeing his runt, his golden baby brother believe that he was anything less than perfection. That Techno didn’t love him.
The handle of the axe, that horrible axe that he wanted nothing more than to smelt down into jewelry to drape his brother in, is held out to him.
“Here. I- I’m not sorry for sticking by L’manberg, but…I’m sorry that I hurt you. I understand if you- if you don’t want to forgive me or if you want to slam the door in my face or prime, if you want to kill me right now,” Tommy’s laughter was brittle, “I know I’m a hard person to be around. But I still wanted to give back the axe, I don’t deserve it. I’m starting to realize I don’t deserve much of anything.”
It’s with those words that his resolve hardens. He reaches out and takes the axe. He’ll deal with it later, for now, he has much more important matters to attend to.
“I’ll get out-”
Techno doesn’t give Tommy a chance to finish his sentence as he reaches out to grasp his arm. He pulls his brother, his runt, his gold, his fire-laugh-little, into his chest and vows to never let him go again.
The chuff that had been building in his chest is finally released as he buries his fingers into long, greasy hair. He’s going to cover him in gold. He’s going to wrap him in the softest silk and yarn and braid intricate patterns into his hair. He’s going to treat his baby brother like the most precious thing in the world because that’s what he was, the crown jewel of his hoard. Someone to be loved and cherished and protected.
Yes!
Ours
Protect the runt
Treasure!
Precious golden child
Our treasure
“Theseus,” Techno rumbles. His first gift to him, and certainly not the last.
(techno could still remember the feeling of that tiny hand wrapped around his finger. he remembers the soft promises he whispered. the name he muttered into wispy blond hair.
wil had cried when he looked into those big blue eyes.
techno had understood why.
those small hazy eyes seemed to look at you like you were their whole universe.)
A damp feeling grew on Techno’s shoulder as tears began to slip from once blue eyes. Instantly, the instincts that had sat steadily at the back of his mind pushed to the forefront. His runt was hurt, not physically, but he needed comfort nonetheless. The high whine of his brother’s voice only had him plummeting faster into an instinct induced haze.
“Tech- Techie I’m sorry- I’m sorry I hurt you and made Phil leave and I’m sorry Wilby’s gone—it’s all my fault—and I’m sorry-”
No!
For once Chat all cried in unison. It was rare that they all agreed on something, but it was clear that they were heavily attached to the runt.
Soothing Tommy with more rumbles and chuffs, he began to softly and repeatedly hit his forehead against the blond’s. They were sounder, nothing the runt said was his fault and even if it was Techno would always be able to forgive him. As difficult as words were at the moment, Techno knew that he would need more verbal assurance.
“Thes, none of that is your fault. I forgive you for L’manberg, we both made mistakes there, but it’s not your fault Phil left or Wilbur…none of it is your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong runt,” he managed to rumble out, words half grunted or growled but still intelligible.
Chat crooned as Tommy began to burrow deeper into his chest.
Take him inside
Poor tired baby
Treasure must be cold
Warm him up
Find out who bruised him
…
Techno tucked away that final comment for later, for now, his runt needed comfort.
(though the moment he found out who dared to lay a hand on his baby brother?
they would wish they had never even stepped foot on this server.
already Chat was whispering of future violence and bloodshed. they were quite attached to tommy after all.)
Techno scooped up the thin blond, already planning a new diet to help him put on weight as he stepped inside the cabin and shut the door behind them. He made quick work of the stairs and soon enough he was setting his brother down in the center of his bed.
Unfortunately he didn’t consider how the sight of his sounder sitting in the middle of the nest and hoard would set off his instincts. Turning towards the fireplace, he got a fire going as fast as possible. His room was already fairly cold but to his nether tinged instincts it was frigid; he would not be getting his runt sick from such an extreme chill.
Satisfied with the state of the fire, he makes his way to the bed and lays down. He grunts a few reassurances (runt-sounder-protect-safe) and pulls Tommy into his arms. The responding grunt (leader-sounder-safe) and headbut had Techno melting slightly and pulling him even closer.
He watches as his brother drifts off into unconsciousness, rubbing idle circles into his shoulders.
It is now that the three parts of him come together.
It is rare for Chat, his instincts, and himself to ever come to a compromise, let alone an agreement. Except of course, for one thing.
Techno presses a kiss to the crown of Tommy’s head.
“Mine.”
(yours)
Ours.