Chapter Text
Technoblade was getting tired of this. When he’d first been arrested, he’d hoped his trial would happen quickly and they’d hurry along his execution, so he could get out of this cell and slaughter everyone within a mile radius. But apparently, bureaucracy waited for no man, and now Techno was approaching the end of his second week in this cell.
His daily meal was delivered via the small hatch in the door, so when the cell door clanged open suddenly, he knew something had changed.
Techno looked up lazily. “I hope you’re here for me,” he drawled, as two guards entered the room.
Unfortunately, that didn’t appear to be the case. They were dragging a third figure between them and as they entered, they tossed them to the floor of the cell.
Techno squinted at the new person incredulously. This had to be some kind of mistake.
A kid was hauling himself up to his knees, his arms buckling beneath him.
“Please,” he begged hoarsely. “Please, not again, I can’t— I can’t—”
“Shut up!” The guard drove his boot into the kid’s side and the boy crumpled, curling in on his ribs with a pained whimper.
Techno found himself growling before he realized it. The kid cowered further, but the guard just sneered in Techno’s direction.
“We’ll be back for you.”
“Looking forward to it.” Techno flashed his teeth in a grin as the guards slammed the cell door shut. His smile fell immediately.
“Kid?”
The teenager flinched and let out a fearful sound. He managed to haul himself into a sitting position, dragging himself back on his hands until his back hit the far wall.
“Whoa.” Techno held up his hands, his chains rattling at the movement. “It’s all right.” Fuck, he did not know how to talk to kids. “What’s, uh— what’s your name?”
The kid just blinked at him. For the first time, Techno noticed that the kid’s eyes were two different colors. He’d clocked the kid’s heterochromatic skin already— it was hard not to, considering how he was split down the middle, one half of his skin a pearly white and the other an inky black— but now he saw how one eye shone red while the other glowed green.
His chat had lots of theories:
Hybrid???
Obviously he’s a hybrid
Enderman maybe?
Ooh, an enderman hybrid!
Techno gritted his teeth and did his best to focus.
“I’m Technoblade,” he tried again. “You can call me Techno if you’d like.”
“Ranboo.” The kid’s voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken for days.
Or like he’s been screaming, his chat added helpfully. Techno ignored them.
“How old are you, Ranboo?”
“Thi— thirteen.”
Technoblade winced internally. Thirteen?
Despite his shock, he did his best to keep his voice even. “What the hell are you doing in here then? Didn’t realize they put thirteen year olds in with war criminals.”
Ranbook looked up, alarmed. “With what?”
Techno waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”
Ranboo didn’t seem convinced, but he continued anyway, glancing nervously at Techno out of the corner of his eye. “I, uh— I don’t remember why I'm here.”
Techno’s eyes narrowed. That was vaguely concerning. “Did you hit your head or something?”
Ranboo shook his head. “I can’t— I can’t remember things so well.”
Oh. Well, Techno had no idea what to do with that.
“I used to have a book,” Ranboo said, holding his hands up as if miming writing. “I wrote down my memories so I could go back and look.” His expression fell slightly. “But… I don’t know where it is now. I guess they must have taken it.”
Ranboo wrapped his arms around himself, trembling. It was then that Techno noticed the thread-bare clothes he was wearing, much too thin to protect him from the cold stone floor.
Techno sighed. He was going to have to deal with this, wasn’t he?
Reluctantly, he lifted his arm. “Come ‘ere, kid.”
Ranboo just stared at him. His teeth had begun to chatter and the sound echoed loudly in the cell.
“I’m chained to the wall,” Techno said, raising his brow at the kid. “I can’t exactly go to you.”
“What—” Ranboo was eyeing him uncertainly, though Techno noticed that Ranboo never fully made eye contact with him; that was another clue he could add to his suspicions that Ranboo was an enderman hybrid. “What do you want me for?”
“It’s cold,” Techno said simply. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by sitting on that stone floor.”
For a moment, Ranboo didn’t move. Then a shiver wracked his body and he gave in, crawling over the uneven stone to Techno’s side of the cell.
Ranboo seemed tall for his age— again, possible enderman hybrid— but compared to Techno, he was practically dwarfed. As soon as he got within reaching distance, Techno scooped him up under the arms and pulled him into his lap.
Ranboo let out a startled noise, but he didn’t fight it as Techno wrapped him in warmth. After a moment, the kid settled, resting his head tentatively against Techno’s chest.
The kid curled up tight in his lap, like he was afraid of taking up too much space.
“Better?” Techno asked, letting his chest rumble a bit. It was a sensation that soothed piglin younglings and he hoped that it would do the same for Ranboo.
Ranboo nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“Nah, nah, I’m not sir. It’s just Techno.”
Ranboo didn’t answer. He just swallowed and ducked his head closer to Techno’s chest. His tail was looped around his waist, the tuft of it held between his hands.
“Are you hurt?” Techno did his best to keep his voice at a low rumble. He’d noticed that Ranboo cringed away from loud noises.
Ranboo shook his head. Technoblade was skeptical, given the way the kid had crumpled from a single kick to the abdomen, but he wasn’t about to push it.
Despite Techno’s heat, Ranboo was still shivering. But it wasn’t as violent as it had been before, so Techno counted that as a win. His eyelids were drooping and every few seconds, the full weight of his head thudded against Techno’s chest.
Techno didn’t say anything, but he slowly lifted his arm and wrapped it around the kid’s shoulders. Ranboo stiffened at first, but slowly relaxed. He was asleep within minutes.
Techno sighed. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now. Prior to this, the only plan he’d had involved breaking out, killing everyone here, and going back home. Now he had a new variable to consider, one that was growing steadily warmer against him.
Distantly, he wished Phil were here. These past few weeks would have been a lot more entertaining had he had his best friend with him, and Phil had always been better with kids. But he supposed he would have to do for now. And if the little bundle tucked up against him was any indication, he wasn’t doing too badly.