Archive of Our Own

Technoblade isn’t even particularly sure why he signed up to be an emergency placement for foster kids. It was a stupid thing to do, fuelled by the fact that it was what Phil had done when he had financial stability and a home large enough for someone else. Of course, there are some differences between him, and his dad.

Phil, for example, had a large home left to him by the death of a family member. He was good with kids. He had a desire of adoption, which made sense considering he ended up adopting two of the four kids he fostered, and kept in regular touch with the other two.

When Techno moved into his two-bedroomed apartment in the middle of the city, he hadn’t really considered long-term. He had a job at the local university as an English Professor, and spent most of his free time doing mythology research for the local museum. If he wasn’t doing that, then he was catching up with his brother and dad, who only lived just over an hour outside the city.

Back to the foster kids. Techno had been shopping one day when he saw the poster on a board, a desperate plea for foster-parents to sign up in the city. Now, Techno was only twenty-four, barely old enough to be a parent. Not that he wanted children. He just figured that he had a spare room, and he certainly didn’t want to rent it out to someone, so it couldn’t be too bad to sign up as an emergency placement.

Puffy, the woman that he spoke to about it, assured him that they could make that work. When she asked if he had anything against hybrids, he blankly stared at her with his tinted-crimson eyes and tusks. It wasn’t like he couldn’t hide his features, but he normally didn’t bother. Being a hybrid from a different realm had never really bothered him before. After all, his brother was a Phantom. A mob hybrid like him. His father was an avian, a crow-hybrid, which was probably why Techno had settled into the Watson household so quickly.

Technoblade left the centre with the assurance that Puffy would contact him if he was an acceptable placement. It was no surprise that she arrived a week later to look around his apartment, and ask some general questions. He answered as bluntly as possible.

No, he wasn’t a creep. He had a spare room.

He had no intention of adoption.

Nobody long-term. Nothing over a month.

The first few children he had were fine. The first was a young girl, eight years old. Techno had her for three days, before she found a permanent foster home and left with a bag for her stuff and a full stomach. As much as Techno didn’t particularly care for people, he wasn’t going to let them suffer.

He began to settle into it. Puffy usually only brought him children on the weekend, which was good, considering his work. If needed, he could get away with an online lecture every so often, so that he could be at home if a child was staying in his apartment. He even managed to hide the entire thing from his father, which was impressive.

Puffy never cared if he said no. She just took the child somewhere else, and Techno didn’t have to think about it again.

His first hybrid child was a cat hybrid. The kid only stayed for a night, before leaving with Puffy in the next morning.

As Techno put the sheets in the laundry the next day, he was surprised to see that Puffy was calling him. Usually, she waited at least a couple of weeks in between placements. Still, this one hadn’t been that arduous, and he had a two week break due to the semester timetable.

‘Puffy,’ he greets, pinning the phone between his ear and shoulder as he bundles the sheets into dryer.

‘Techno, sorry for calling again so early, but I’ve got a—Tommy, stop that! – another one that could do with a bed. I swear I’ll have him out by the end of the break.’

Twelve days. Techno frowns; it’ll be the longest he’s had one kid.

‘Name?’

‘Thomas Innes. Goes by Tommy.’

‘Age?’

‘Fifteen.’

Old, Techno thinks, but he doesn’t point that out. At least it’ll be able to look after itself, Techno muses.

‘Fine. I’ll get the room set up.’

Puffy hesitates. He hears a huffing sound in the background, before a car door opens. He figures she’s already managed to bundle the kid in, but it stepping out to talk to him. ‘He’s been in the system for a while. His record isn’t exactly clean—’

‘I signed up for this,’ Techno cuts in, ending her worry. ‘I’m not worried about a “problem kid”.’

On the other end of the phone, Puffy sighs. ‘You can call me if you need me to pick him up.’

She hangs up shortly after, and Techno begins to prepare the room. He changes the bed-spread to a neutral teal shade, one of his brother’s favourite colours. The welcome basket is placed on the bed, with toiletries and towels and a book in case the kid wants something to read. He puts away the kid’s toys, and instead adds some more books to the shelves.

If he’s honest, Techno is a little bit intrigued to see the kid’s record. Both him and Wilbur were “problem” children, and their records had been thick.

He’s just about managed to make himself a cup of tea when the intercom for his apartment goes off. He buzzes Puffy in, waiting until he hears the elevator open before walking over to his door and unlocking it.

Puffy looks frazzled. Her white hair is sticking up in all directions, and there are bags under her eyes. Still, she smiles when she sees him. ‘Techno, it’s good to see you. This—’ she gestures behind her, where a kid is hovering, ‘—is Tommy.’

The kid is dressed in a pair of ripped (probably not on purpose) jeans, and a hoodie that covers his head. His hands are encased in gloves, and he doesn’t bother looking up at Techno.

‘Hey, kid.’

‘Not a fucking kid,’ the boy snaps, head shooting up.

He’s got bruises.

It’s the first kid that’s come to his door with injuries. Techno’s not particularly bothered by it, but he does take note of the strange markings around the boy’s throat. Patterns that are hybrid features, as opposed to injuries.

‘Come in,’ Techno advises. Puffy steps in, heading towards the kitchen like she usually does. The kid is more wary, sizing up to Techno before darting around him like he’s decided it isn’t worth the fight. He huffs in amusement, before heading to the kettle.

‘I know it’s short notice, and I am sorry, but it’s difficult to get an older kid a place in the centre,’ Puffy explains, while Techno takes note of the way the kid’s fingers are drumming on his thighs as he leans against the wall.

‘It’s no trouble. I’ve got a room sorted for you, Tommy, if you’d like to go and get some rest?’

The kid stares at him with anger in his unnaturally bright eyes. ‘Fine. Just so you can spout shit about my file, right?’

He has to fight to hide the smirk that threatens to spread over his face. Gods, the kid reminds him of Wilbur.

Puffy goes to deny it, but Techno just snorts. ‘Room is down the corridor on the left. Bathroom is opposite it, feel free to take a shower.’

Momentary surprise that Techno didn’t lie about the file is replaced by longing for a shower. The kid scampers away, and Techno turns back to Puffy.

‘What type of hybrid?’

‘Unknown,’ Puffy replies, sliding the file across to him. ‘He’s refused testing, but it’s got to be some sort of predator. He can… he can hurt people if he touches them.’

A defence mechanism. Techno is mildly intrigued. His first thought is a Pufferfish, but he shoves that away when he thinks about the marks on the kid’s neck.

A brief look at the file reveals a backstory that rivals his own. A lot of houses, all ending in dramatic endings. No biological family left alive. One died of an overdose, and the other died in prison. The kid’s got no known medical conditions, save for ADHD, and Techno knows how to assist with that one.

‘Allergies?’

‘None.’

‘Hybrid preferences?’

‘He won’t give us anything. It’s mostly trial and error.’

Techno frowns. It’s annoying to work with, but it’s only for twelve days, so he isn’t too fussed.

‘Are you… are you sure you can handle this? He can be a lot, even if he is a sweet kid. He just needs to warm up—’

‘I’ve got this handled, Puffy. Go and grab a coffee, or some sleep. You look like shit.’

She snorts, raising up out of the chair she’d perched in. ‘Thanks, Techno. Good luck, and call me if you need help.’

Technoblade is fine. It’s just one kid, he doesn’t need help.

**

He definitely needs help.

‘The fuck are you staring at?’ Tommy snarls, lips curling as he curls in on himself. The kid’s dressed in the same clothes, so Techno figures the trash-bag he came with doesn’t actually hold anything of use.

‘You,’ Techno bluntly replies. ‘Can I double-check your pronouns?’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Brilliant. Mine are he/him.’

‘Die.’

‘Would you mind writing your sizes down, so I can get you some clothes that actually fit? Or we can go shopping together, if you’d prefer.’

‘I’d prefer it if you jumped off a bridge.’

‘No thank you, I’m not an airborne hybrid,’ Techno tells the kid, who falters.

His eyes then narrow on his tusks, and the pink hair, and then the eyes. Techno waits for the inevitable fear, or the mocking, but the kid just blinks. ‘What kind of name is Technoblade?’

‘One I picked myself when I was ten,’ he says, herding the feral child towards the kitchen. If Tommy realises he’s being herded, he doesn’t complain.

‘Bet you were a right bitch.’

‘Do you always swear this much?’

Tommy takes a seat, and Techno notes that his gloves are still in place. ‘You’re not fucking special, dickhead.’

He makes two cups of tea, placing one in front of the kid. When Tommy just stares at it, Techno decides to push the point about clothes. ‘We need to get you into something clean. I’ve got a car, so we can head to the store and find something that suits you. Maybe some things to keep you entertained.’

Now that he’s washed, the bruises on his face are more obvious. He’s clearly been punched in the face, but from the way Tommy’s cradling his right hand, Techno suspects he punched back.

He refuses to feel slightly proud about that.

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why bother buying things? I’ll go back soon.’

Techno asked Phil the same thing, when he arrived in the Watson household.

‘Because you deserve something of your own, Techno. Something that reflects you.’

‘Because you’re stinking out my apartment, kid.’

‘Fuck you.’

**

The kid stays glued to his side. As most fosters do, Tommy struggles with choice. It took Techno years to get used to the fact that he had ownership over his own decisions, and so on his first trips to the store, Phil used to make most of them for him. Easy decisions were offered, between colours or styles, and so Techno mimics that with the fifteen-year-old limpet that won’t leave the side of the cart.

‘Blue, or red?’

‘Uh, red?’

He makes a note of the colour choice, placing it down.

‘Do you like music?’ Techno asks, glancing towards the poster-section. It wouldn’t hurt for the kid to have one to put up in his room.

Something sparks in Tommy’s eye, and Techno internally praises himself for the good question. Although he’s bad with kids, he’s picked up on some good social questions from his brother.

‘Yeah.’

‘Anything in particular?’

Tommy chews on his bottom lip. It’s already swollen and split, so it has to hurt, but the kid doesn’t flinch. ‘Nothing you’ll have heard of.’

‘We can get something generic for now. You have a phone, right? Headphones?’

‘My last set broke,’ he admits, and Techno guides them towards the electronics. He picks out a relatively nice pair, and ignores the way Tommy’s eyes widen.

It’s not like money is an issue for him. Spending a couple of hundred on a kid that will probably never see this much stuff ever again… it’s not a bad thing. He buys a bag in the hopes that Tommy might be able to keep the items he buys, and then guides them to the checkout.

Tommy’s got his eyes on the fidget toys that Techno added, and the plushie. It was one that Tommy picked out himself, so that’s at least a bit of progress.

‘Food?’

‘Uh, yeah? Whatever’s good with me, big man.’

The swears have lessened, and Techno suspects it’s because the kid is getting overwhelmed. He makes the decision of grabbing a takeaway McDonalds, and leading the child back to the car. As he did on the journey here, Tommy clambers into the back and startles when Techno hands him the food to hold.

‘You can eat it now, if you want. I’ll wait till we get back.’

For the entire ride, the kid tries to sneakily steal fries from the bag. Techno notes that the gloves stay on.

**

The kid has nightmares.

Techno doesn’t know why he’s surprised about that, but it still hurts to listen to the child suffering in his apartment. Whines and pitiful pleading, muffled by the walls, linger long into the night.

At breakfast, Tommy is back to being snappy and distrustful. He eats far too little, and insults Techno’s choice in hair colour (he doesn’t mean it, Techno knows the kid likes it). Eventually, once Techno’s managed to eat his own food and has watched Tommy swallow two mouthfuls, they fall into a stalemate.

‘Can I… use the washing machine?’ Tommy awkwardly asks, refusing to look him in the eye.

Techno’s heart melts a little. There’s something so humbling about a child being afraid to ask to wash things.

‘Do you not like your new clothes?’ Techno calmly replies, trying to get to the root of the issue immediately. To his surprise, Tommy quickly shakes his head.

‘They’re great! It’s not that, it’s, uh, my gloves. I don’t have that many pairs.’

His eyes drift down to the black gloves covering the boy’s hands.

‘I’ll show you how to use the washing machine. Do you need some more pairs?’

The kid blinks, then warily narrows his eyes on Techno. ‘You know why I wear them.’

‘I didn’t bother reading your file, apart from the allergy section. Anything else is a scripted narrative,’ Techno explains, just like Phil had with him and Wilbur. Niki and Dream had been given the same explanations when they arrived in their house.

The boy’s face goes expressionless.

‘You didn’t read my file?’

‘I know you’re an unknown hybrid.’

‘You don’t care?’

Techno wonders if the kid thinks it’s normal to have to explain his hybrid status to people. Techno certainly thought it was, back when he was younger. It wasn’t until he met Phil that he began to understand that he wasn’t defined by his traits.

‘You’ll tell me if you want to. I hardly care what type of hybrid you are.’

He’s said something right. Techno’s struck by how similar this is to his introduction to Phil, but he doesn’t point that out to the kid. Instead, he guides Tommy to the washing machine and shows him how to put his stuff in.

**

He constantly sits with his back to something. In this instance, it’s the wall, and he has eyes on Techno walking in and out of the room. On the third day of the kid’s stay, he seems to be settling in. Tommy still protests about mealtimes and portion sizes, but Techno can relax the rules a little. There’s a hint of wonder on the kid’s face when he lets him head down to the communal gardens for the apartment block, or to collect the post from the bottom floor.

Techno finds it’s not bad having Tommy in the apartment. The kid cleans up after himself pretty well, and although he can be loud, he quietens down when Techno actually needs to get work done.

Now, as evening sets in, Techno’s reading through some papers that he needs to grade while the kid has his headphones in. Bright eyes occasionally flit to the stack on Techno’s lap, then back to his crappy phone.

‘Why’d you become an emergency foster?’ Tommy randomly says, as Techno tries to work out why one of his students is describing a completely different book to the one he assigned. Hardly the first time a student hasn’t done the assigned reading.

‘I was a foster,’ Techno offers, chewing the lid of the pen he’s holding. His attention slips from the paper, instead focusing on the texture of the lid. To his surprise, something is thrown at his face.

A cube. One of the fidgets he got Tommy.

He grunts a thanks to the kid, then watches as Tommy takes out a headphone to properly engage. ‘You got adopted?’

‘Yeah. My dad adopted me, and my brother.’

‘Biological?’

‘Nope.’

Tommy hums, curious, and his gloved fingers twitch. ‘Hybrids?’

‘My brother’s a mob hybrid, like me. Dad’s an avian.’

Curiosity isn’t a bad thing. The kid is clearly brimming with questions that he’s been trying to hide for the past three days, which is hardly a surprise. The bruises on his face are turning into dark shades of blue and purple, making his face mottled and rather horrifying.

‘What do they do?’

‘Dad’s a software developer for a video game, Minecraft. My brother is a musician.’

‘Minecraft?’ the kid asks, looking slightly awed. ‘That’s sick.’

‘I have it on PC, if you ever want to play,’ Techno offers, even if that means giving the kid access to his study.

‘And you’re a professor? Puffy told me you teach English.’

‘I do, but I specialise in classical literature.’

‘Mythology n’shit like that?’

Techno barks a laugh. ‘Yeah, kid. Shit like that.’

Tommy frowns at the nickname, before he relaxes back into the seat. He’s less tense, less likely to flee, and Techno is surprised by the way his hybrid-side finds comfort in that. It doesn’t help that the kid’s hair is golden, something that Techno has to blatantly ignore. The urge to braid it, or thread actual gold into it is getting harder and harder to ignore.

‘You keep frowning at it,’ Tommy randomly says, nodding to the papers.

Techno sighs, running a hand through the loose strands of hair that have fallen out of his braid. ‘Some of them don’t bother to read the assignment I set.’

To his surprise, the kid chuckles. ‘To be fair, I barely bother to read my assignments in school.’

Techno rolls his eyes. ‘Do you have a favourite subject?’

‘Art,’ Tommy says, without hesitation. ‘And history. But not together.’

Techno hasn’t actually seen any of the kid’s transcripts, so he doesn’t know how smart the boy is. ‘You want to go out to a gallery this weekend? There’s an exhibit I’ve been meaning to visit.’

Something close to suspicion flickers in Tommy’s eyes, but he doesn’t openly doubt Techno. The man knows that’ll come later, behind closed doors, when he can pretend that nothing is bothering him.

‘Okay, big man.’

**

Techno knew he shouldn’t have left Tommy’s side. The kid was clearly stressed in large crowds, and he drew a lot of attention thanks to the bruises splattered across his skin. But Techno wanted to go and grab the kid a snack, considering he’d barely managed to keep breakfast down earlier. It was only as he turned back to find the child, and located him, that he realised he had underestimated the kid’s ability to get into trouble.

He witnesses the issue. A man barges past Tommy without care, bumping into him hard enough that the kid’s phone tumbles from his hands. From there, it gets stamped into the ground. Techno picks up his pace, watching as Tommy says something that has the guy’s fists clenching, and then Tommy’s being shouted at.

‘—useless brat, you were in my way! You shouldn’t be—’

‘Is there an issue?’ Techno says, breaking into the conversation and subtly putting himself half in the way of the kid and the dickhead.

‘Yes!’ the man spits, face red. ‘Your son was being rude to me, and called me some horrible words!’

Techno momentarily falters over the fact that he is most definitely not old enough to be Tommy’s father, before realising that he’s standing there like an idiot.

‘What did you do?’ Techno asks, even though he’s already seen it.

‘What?’ the man asks, confused.

Techno takes a breath. ‘What did you do to him?’

Behind him, Tommy inhales. ‘Let’s just go, big man.’

‘Your son called me—’

‘Better things than I would have, considering you barged into him and broke his phone. Be lucky I’m not making you pay for another one,’ Techno spits back, before glancing back to the kid.

Tommy looks surprised. Confused, as Techno herds him away from the spluttering idiot without touching the boy’s frame. He knows better than to initiate contact.

‘Here,’ Techno says, handing over the granola bar and the coke. ‘Snacks for your blood sugar.’

‘Uh, thanks.’

‘We can head to the store to get you a new phone,’ Techno adds thoughtfully, already preoccupied by planning the route in his head.

Tommy chokes on the mouthful of coke. ‘What?’

‘Any preference on brand?’

‘Cheap?’ Tommy weakly says, as they walk out of the gallery in step.

‘You might as well get one that’s good,’ Techno counters.

‘It might get broken, or stolen,’ Tommy says, sounding rather strange in his tone.

Techno frowns. ‘Not while I’m here to—’

He halts.

While he’s here. Which is only for another four days.

‘Big man? Blade?’ Tommy calls, as Techno suddenly realises that he doesn’t exactly want the kid to leave.

He doesn’t say that to the boy, though.

‘We’ll get you a decent phone.’

Tommy doesn’t protest after that.

**

‘Is it possible?’

Puffy breathes out, standing in Techno’s kitchen early in the morning with a cup of coffee nestled between her hands. ‘Entirely possible, but I’d need… Tommy would have to consent, and you’d have to be sure. I’d have to do another check, and assign a proper social worker to handle this, and—’

Soft feet pad down the corridor. Techno turns to the boy as he appears, messy blond curls covering his face as he yawns.

When he sees Puffy, the kid tenses. His arms are bare, and bruised, although his hands are still covered in the gloves.

‘Captain Pussy, what are you doing here?’

Techno blinks at the name, then turns to look at Puffy, who just smiles. ‘Morning, Tommy.’

‘I have two days left,’ Tommy argues instantly, body tense.

Techno puts down his coffee. ‘I was asking Puffy if it would be possible for you to stay.’

Unlike Phil, he doesn’t try and ask tactfully. The kid will freak out regardless of how the question is asked, so he might as well say it bluntly.

Tommy’s eyes widen, before he scowls. ‘Fuck off, that’s not fucking funny.’

The logical argument is Techno’s best method of fighting Tommy’s insecurity. ‘It’s easy to have an older kid around. I can go to work, and you can go to school. I’ll give you a key to the apartment. You fit well here, and you’re not bothered that I’m a mob hybrid. It also means I don’t have to keep changing the stupid bed-sheets in the guest room.’

Tommy considers all of this, then frowns. ‘So you want me to… stay?’

‘Yeah. For as long as you’re comfortable.’

Puffy’s watching them closely. Tommy’s head tilts to the side, golden hair catching the sun filtering in through the window.

Golden.

He pushes down his instincts, and sips the coffee he picks back up off the counter.

‘Okay. Yeah, that sounds fine.’

Then, almost as an afterthought, Tommy stares at him. ‘Doesn’t this mean you’ll have to tell your family?’

Ah, Techno hadn’t exactly thought of that.

**

‘Do I have to go?’ Tommy protests, adjusting the collar of his shirt as Techno shoves a bag in his direction.

‘Yes,’ Techno replies, double-checking he put Tommy’s lunch in. ‘You have to go, because I can hardly be seen to encouraging a lack of education when I teach.’

‘You’re cool, though. They’re not.’

‘Was that a compliment from Tommy Innes himself?’

‘Fuck you, you prick. I hope you die.’

Techno snorts, then moves towards the door. ‘You’ve been to this school for a while. Aren’t you happy to go back and see your friends?’

‘Yeah, but then everyone will ask where I am, and who my new family is, and—’

‘Just don’t speak to them.’

Tommy rolls his eyes, stepping out of the apartment by Techno’s side. ‘That may work for you, Mr Tall and Brooding and Broad, but I am simply too pog for people to ignore.’

‘I hate that word.’

‘Pog? Would you like me to use it in another sentence?’

‘I’ll kick you out,’ Techno grumbles, heading towards his car. Tommy has a slight bounce to his step as he follows, smiling warmly over at him.

‘I am a poster child, dear Blade. The very face of innocence. I am simply too pog for this—hey!’ He yelps when Techno goes to clip him around the ear, cackling loudly as he takes the passenger seat.

‘Put some music on.’

The kid begins to hook up his phone as Techno considers the very imminent threat of having to tell his father and brother about the kid living in his apartment. They don’t even know he was an emergency foster placement, let alone that he had been housing Tommy for the past three and a half weeks.

It’s not like a father-son relationship. Techno suspects the age gap isn’t large enough, or the kid is simply too old to want a father-figure. It doesn’t stop him from trying to be parental at times.

If the kid is staying for as long as he needs, then Techno will be whatever figure he wants. Even if his instincts are demanding that they wrap the baby up in gold, and keep him safe, and nest with him.

Gods, he was turning into Phil. All broody and maternal over a teenager that could look after himself.

As he zones back in, he belatedly realises Tommy’s choice of music.

‘Lovejoy?’

Tommy’s head snaps over. ‘You’ve heard of them?’

Perfect teasing material. Honestly, the best blackmail he’s ever had.

‘My brother’s in the band,’ Techno replies, keeping his eyes on the road and pretending not to notice when Tommy goes incredibly still.

‘Joe?’

Techno shakes his head, fighting his grin.

‘Ash?’

‘Mark?’

When Techno shakes, Tommy goes quite still.

‘Wilbur?’

‘Yeah, kid. That’s him.’

‘The guy that produced Your City Gave Me Asthma?’

Wilbur was going to take one look at Techno’s hybrid kid, and try and steal him. Thievery, right from under Techno’s nose.

‘The very same,’ he drawls, and watches the way the kid’s leg begins to bounce. He purposefully made sure Tommy took his meds this morning, and has his fidget toys on hand.

‘No fucking way.’

‘I’ll introduce you at some point.’

‘His music makes him seem like a bitch. Is he a bitch? Oh, please say I can call him out for being a simp.’

Techno struggles not to laugh at Tommy’s rambling, pulling up to the school and glancing over at him. ‘Do what you want, kid. Wilbur gives as good as it gets, though, so watch out.’ He then looks to the school, and back to his kid. ‘Call me if you need anything. Try not to start fights on your first day, yeah?’

‘No promises, Blade,’ Tommy sings, sliding out of the car and disappearing towards the building.

Techno refuses to acknowledge the spark of pride that blossoms in his chest.

**

There’s a growing list of things that Techno likes to call “Tommy quirks”. Things that he notes down about his kid; likes and dislikes. Whether they’re hybrid tendencies or not, he has a duty to make sure that the kid that’s now staying permanently in his apartment is happy.

Food is a big one. Techno declares anything in the cupboards as available to the kid, whenever he’s hungry. Snacks are encouraged, as long as he makes a note of when things run out. The kid’s blood sugar dips dangerously at points, and Techno almost forces him to go to the doctors before Tommy admits it’s to do with his hybrid side. After that admittance, Techno keeps a stock of sugary snacks for when the kid crashes.

Although claustrophobic, Tommy’s hybrid side likes dark spaces and the feeling of containment. It makes for an interesting combination that Techno isn’t yet sure how to handle.

There are also times when the kid, to put it bluntly, vibrates. It’s like he’s a stewing pot of energy, and sometimes it bubbles over. Techno catches glimpses of electric-blue eyes and a glow beneath his skin that quickly is tamped down. He thought the kid could be some sort of guardian hybrid, but he doesn’t have the right morphology for that.

Tommy likes the hot. He’d think the teen was a Nether hybrid, had he not shown any affection for gold. There’s no love of the sea, nor an affinity to flight. His instincts don’t call to a particular animal, despite his love of cows.

Not that he’s trying to figure it out. He’s just curious, because he wants Tommy to settle down.

Which is why he’s so surprised one evening when Tommy takes the gloves off.

They’ve decided on fajitas for dinner. Techno works on chopping up chicken, while Tommy is on the vegetable duty. It’s a routine that they’ve got used to in the evenings, and it gives a chance for them to speak about their days. Phil used to do this with him and Wilbur, although his brother was banned from actually cooking.

‘Do they even read?’ Tommy jokes, as Techno complains about his students again. He huffs a laugh, back to the kid as he slices up the meat.

‘Probably more than you, kid.’

Tommy snorts, moving towards the pan and putting some oil in. He’s a pretty good cook, which is usually sign of neglectful parents and starving foster kids. ‘Not all of us can be as lame as you, Blade.’

‘Hey, you called me cool the other day,’ Techno brags, turning to put the chicken in the pan. Tommy’s back at his own station, so he doesn’t really spare a glance to the kid.

‘That is slander. I said no such thing. You’re gaslighting me.’

One of Tommy’s new favourite words, which Techno supposes is better than pog.

‘I’ll be gatekeeping these fajitas from you in a minute,’ Techno grumbles, brushing Tommy aside gently to reach for the chopping board.

The kid nearly jumps a mile, and when Techno goes to ask what’s wrong – Tommy doesn’t jump like that around him, hasn’t for over a month – his eyes fall to Tommy’s hands.

Bare hands. No gloves in sight.

‘Didn’t want to get them dirty,’ Tommy quickly babbles, fingers curling into fists as he nervously tenses up. ‘I can put them back on, I just haven’t washed any pairs or—’

‘S’fine, kid. I’ll keep my distance if that’s what you want.’

He takes the chopping board, purposefully trying to appear less threatening as he slides onions into the pan.

Tommy chews on his lower lip nervously. ‘If I want?’

‘You set the boundaries here, kid. We’ve talked about this.’

‘But if I hurt you—’

‘Then it’s an accident, and we’ll move on. I won’t get angry,’ he promises, knowing that’s what Tommy fears deep down. Or, maybe he fears Techno’s reaction to what his hybrid status is, considering he’s not told him.

He adds the seasoning, aware that the kid’s having some sort of identity crisis in the centre of the room.

Then, he relaxes, nudging Techno out of the way and stealing the spoon with his bare fingers briefly brushing over Techno’s skin.

‘Never stop girlbossing, Blade.’

**

‘You must be Mr Watson,’ the man greets, offering out a hand to shake.

Techno barely manages to restrain the wince. Mr Watson is Phil, not him.

‘Technoblade is fine,’ he awkwardly returns, taking a seat opposite the table as Tommy comes to his side. The boy sends him a reassuring look, like he hasn’t just spent the past ten minutes convincing Techno that this parent-teacher conference will be fine.

Phil used to go alone. For most of Techno’s conferences, he hid away and refused to acknowledge anything about the situation at school. A fear of academic failure meant that he refused to go and sit in front of them, and so he wasn’t actually sure how he was supposed to act right now. Luckily, the meeting was just with Tommy’s favourite teacher, his art teacher, about prospects for applying to an art college in the city.

‘Then I do insist on Sam,’ the green-haired man says with a bright smile, taking his own seat. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me at such short notice. I wanted to speak a little about the options for colleges, and of course to show off a little of Tommy’s work. Has he showed you any?’

Red rushes to the kid’s cheeks, basically drowning him in embarrassment as Techno glances over. ‘You okay with me seeing some of your stuff?’ He figures checking is probably a good measure, considering the kid’s habit of being a very closed off person. Even after three months of living together, Techno’s not used to the way Tommy stays so silent about these parts of him.

‘Yeah,’ Tommy replies, shy in the way he averts his eyes and smiles hesitantly.

Techno refuses to admit that his instincts have thoroughly convinced themselves that the kid is his. Obviously, he knows the boy isn’t his actual child. Yet he still feels oddly parental as Sam shows Techno the boy’s sketchbook.

It’s good. Impressive. One of the first sketches that Techno sees is of a skull, with flowers blooming out from the eye-sockets. Dark roses, black and thorny.

He adds appropriate comments when necessary. Tommy is clearly getting overwhelmed, so he battles the need to praise the kid with the desire to protect him from his own desire to please others.

Sam watches the two of them with a fond smile. He’s known Tommy since the kid joined the school when he was eleven, so it makes sense that he’s seen other foster parents come and go. Techno, thinking too long on that subject, has to fight the way his piglin-mind calls for blood. It would do no good to lose his temper here.

‘What are your thoughts on applying for college?’ Sam asks Tommy directly, while Techno continues to flick through the sketchbook.

The kid’s got talent. Enough that the art college would be lucky to have him.

‘I never thought I’d have a stable enough home to get in,’ Tommy admits, and just the fact that he says that in front of Sam tells Techno that the man is trustworthy.

Clearly, the fact that Tommy has said it in front of Techno shows Sam that he’s trustworthy, so it’s working both ways.

‘Are you intending on long-term foster?’

‘Sam,’ Tommy hisses, cheeks the colour of the hoodie he stole from Techno and refuses to give back.

Techno doesn’t mind the question. ‘For as long as Tommy wants.’

Sam’s smile is parental, and pleased, and proud. ‘Then I’d suggest you apply, Tommy. You’ve got a good chance at a scholarship, with art like yours.’

Belatedly, Techno realises they’ve never actually discussed school fees. Tommy’s young enough to be in education for free, currently. But the college, and university, will be expensive. Hardly a strain out of Techno’s pocket, considering who his dad is and the handsome amount he’s paid to teach bratty students only a couple of years younger than he is.

Tommy looks nervous, and so Techno hesitantly offers a reassurance. ‘You don’t need to rely on the scholarship. If you want to go, it doesn’t matter if you get it or not.’

He wonders how long it’ll take Tommy to trust him on that fact. He certainly took years to believe that Phil would spend money on him just because he wanted to, with no ulterior motives.

Tommy startles, then quietly nods. He seems lost in thought, so Techno decides that they’ve probably both had enough for the evening. ‘McDonalds on the way home?’

The boy grins.

**

Techno is biting down on a chicken nugget when the kid in his passenger seat decides to drop a bombshell.

‘I’m a Nether hybrid.’

The sweet and sour sauce on his nugget ends up almost choking him, and Techno reaches for his milkshake to swallow it down while he tries to think of something supportive and parental to say.

‘Cool.’

That… that probably wasn’t it.

Tommy doesn’t seem deterred. He’s looking out across the dark parking lot, watching the cars on the main road as he eats his own nuggets. Techno’s managed to refrain from making a comment about his child taste-buds choosing ketchup as the primary sauce.

‘A… a wither.’

Oh.

The gloves make sense, Techno thinks.

‘Thank you for telling me. Do you… there are certain things that mob-hybrids need, and skeletons in particular—’

‘A Wither Boss.’

Techno drops the milkshake, but it hits his thighs in time for him to right it.

Tommy’s shaking. It’s got nothing to do with his hybrid side, and everything to do with the fact that he looks terrified that Techno’s about to kick him out of the car.

He’s not going to do that, obviously. ‘My dad fostered a boss-hybrid before,’ Techno quietly begins, looking out the front of the car to give Tommy some sense of privacy. ‘Although we didn’t end up adopting him, I still consider him to be as close as family.’

‘What boss?’ Tommy whispers, and Techno can smell blood where Tommy’s bitten his lip.

‘Ender-dragon. His features were limited to set of wings, but his eyes could glow purple if he got emotional.’

Silence takes over the car, before Techno does something risky. ‘I’d like to introduce the two of you. He runs workshops for hostile mob and boss hybrids, helps them control some of the difficult aspects of our genetics.’

Tommy’s watching him. In the darkness, his eyes are almost too bright to be natural.

‘Control?’

‘Rather than hiding them away,’ Techno explains, knowing that the kid’s been doing that for a long time. Long enough that it can’t be healthy.

‘You’re okay with it?’

‘Tommy, there’s nothing wrong in the first place,’ he promises, staring into the boy’s eyes and wondering exactly what a Wither-Boss hybrid can do. ‘You don’t need my acceptance, but if you want it, you’ll always have it.’

**

‘And you’ve not told Phil about any of this?’ Dream questions, as Tommy shyly introduces himself to a bunch of hybrid kids. Dream’s adoptive brother, Tubbo, seems to take an instant shine to the kid.

Techno crosses his arms, refusing to look at all guilty for the situation he’s got in. ‘No.’

‘Techno—’

‘I’m an adult.’

‘You’ve just turned twenty-five, and you have a fifteen-year-old kid under your care.’

Phil and Wilbur had called for his birthday, complaining that Techno hadn’t come to see them. Techno promised that in two weeks, when summer starts, he’ll come and visit them.

‘He’s sixteen now,’ is all Techno says in response. Tommy’s birthday had been two weeks after they’d agreed to make Tommy’s stay permanent, and Techno gifted him the Switch that the kid is now showing off to Tubbo, and Niki’s hybrid brother, Ranboo.

Dream snorts in amusement, looking over to him. ‘A Wither-Boss is a dangerous hybrid.’

‘He’s not—’

‘I never said he was. After everything the foster system throws at kids like us, I’m surprised he’s not hurt someone. That alone proves he’s a good kid.’

Techno settles down. His instincts no longer demand a fight with Dream, which the older can clearly tell if the smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

‘Can you help him?’ Techno finally asks, pride be damned.

Dream hides his shock well. ‘Yeah, I can help him. But if your dad starts asking questions, you know that I’m a bad liar.’

‘I’ll tell him.’

‘Hurry up about it. Phil’s going to love having a new kid to dote on.’

Techno’s not sure what happens in the next second, only that his fingers close around Dream’s arm and his tusks almost go for the man’s throat. ‘He’s not Phil’s, he’s mine,’ he snaps, and then quickly pulls his control back.

Dream studies him, having barely flinched. ‘Sounder?’

It’s the first time Techno’s considered the term for anyone that isn’t Wilbur or Phil. Not even Niki or Dream get that part of his instincts.

But then he looks back to Tommy, who seems to have teamed up with Tubbo to try and convince Ranboo to teleport them places.

‘My shoat.’

**

‘Do crabs think we walk sideways?’ Tommy inquires, legs swinging back and forth on the counter while Techno tries to clean up the kid’s knee.

‘Probably not, Theseus. A crab would be more concerned with the fact that a predator—’

‘What about fish, do they breathe the water? Do they swim in air?’

He finishes with the gravel stuck under the skin, then places the disinfectant swab right over it. Tommy hisses, head tipping back as his leg twitches.

‘Mother fucker.’

‘Don’t pick fights you can’t win,’ Techno chides, briefly eyeing up the bruise on Tommy’s jawline. It’s been five months since he arrived at the house, and Techno’s got used to not seeing any marks on him.

Tommy huffs. ‘I didn’t lose. I simply made a tactical retreat.’

He makes a note to thank Dream for managing to get that teaching in the kid’s head. Techno may have taught him some basic defence, but at least Tommy knows when to back down.

‘The supreme art of war—’

‘Is to subdue the enemy without fighting, I know,’ Tommy finishes easily, like reciting Sun Tzu’s quotes from the Art of War is a simple feat.

Techno studies him, then reaches out to cup the kid’s cheek. Tommy startles, but touch between them is getting more and more acceptable, especially with Dream helping the kid with his hybrid side. ‘I don’t want you hurt,’ Techno says, rather selfishly, as he tries to reassure his hind-brain that Tommy is perfectly safe.

The kid grumbles, but tilts into Techno’s palm. ‘M’sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise. It’s… hard for my instincts to see you in pain.’

Blue eyes flick open. ‘Your hind-brain?’

Dream’s been teaching him something, then.

‘Yeah.’

‘Piglin’s are territorial,’ Tommy recites, then narrows his eyes. ‘And protective of their family.’

‘Sounder,’ Techno corrects, stroking the kid’s cheek. ‘You’re my sounder.’

If Tommy hadn’t come in limping, with blood dripping down his knee and a bruise shining over his cheek, he doubts he’d ever admit to something like that. He’s glad he did, though, because Tommy looks positively stunned. His eyes go wide, and then his eyes are glowing softly, body humming under Techno’s hand like he can’t physically sit still.

‘What?’ Tommy croaks, and Techno briefly notes that the kid is losing some control over his hybrid side.

His veins begin to glow, skin turning a blue-grey shade.

‘Sounder,’ Techno insists, ‘My shoat.’

Tommy melts. He slumps into Techno’s hold, tucking up so closely that Techno can feel the Wither-energy vibrating through him, but it isn’t painful. He can’t help but chuff, then repeat the sound when Tommy’s chest purrs in response.

By the time his instincts calm down, Techno realises they’re both sitting on the floor. Tommy’s sprawled out across his legs, head pressed to Techno’s chest like he’s listening to the chuffing sound that the piglin makes.

‘Kid,’ Techno says softly, nudging Tommy and resisting the urge to run fingers through golden curls.

‘G’way, m’tired,’ Tommy slurs. His skin is beginning to fade back to pale, and Techno suspects it took a lot of energy to switch so beautifully.

‘You need some food.’

The easiest way to Tommy’s heart was through food. The kid perks up, then seems to realise that he’s sitting on Techno, and shuffles back quickly. His cheeks heat up, always so expressive, and Techno resists the urge to smugly grin.

‘Shit, sorry, I didn’t—’

‘What did I say about apologising for things like this?’

Tommy huffs. ‘Not to do it.’

‘Good. I was just as far into my instincts as you were, and I’m not apologising for it. It’s normal for hybrid families, but it does bring up the point that we should have a shared nest.’

He stands up, beginning to think about what they should do for dinner. Only, Tommy is still sitting on the floor, and when he looks down, the kid’s crying.

‘Tommy? Kid, fuck, what did I—’

‘Never had a nest before,’ Tommy says, hiccupping a sound that tries to escape from the back of his throat. It’s the soft purring one, that Techno suspects is entirely-Wither.

His heart breaks. Even in the foster system, when he met Wilbur, he had a nest that he shared with him. All hybrids had a desire to share a nest at some point, even if they were solitary creatures.

‘C’mon, we can get take-out later,’ Techno says, waiting for the kid to follow him.

Techno leads him to his room, avoiding the bed and heading to the walk-in closet turned nest. A mattress specifically designed to fit the entire room, with a mountain of blankets, pillows, and clothes spread about. Most were Wilbur’s or Phil’s, but one of Tommy’s hoodies had made it in.

‘Shoes off, come join.’

There’s no fight left in the kid. Techno’s sure he’ll be snappy tomorrow, as a defence mechanism to letting Techno see him like this, but they can deal with that later. For now, he wraps the kid up and tugs him closer.

‘What do I… what are you, to me?’ Tommy whispers against his collarbone, tucked up firmly to his side.

Techno halts. Protector. Sounder. Dad? Brother.

‘Whatever you want me to be,’ Techno easily replies, and Tommy hums curiously.

‘So you… you’re okay with being my brother, most of the time?’

Siblings.

‘Yeah, Theseus. That’s more than okay.’

Tommy relaxes, before tensing up again. ‘And… and if I want you to be my dad, just some of the time?’

Techno feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his goddamned chest.

‘Then I’ll be your dad,’ Techno promises, with the chanting of shoat and runt and baby getting louder and louder in his ears.

‘Okay,’ Tommy says, pleased. ‘M’happy with that.’

**

‘You’ve been ignoring us,’ Wilbur says with a pout, staring through the video camera into Techno’s soul. He’s always been melodramatic, so a family-call labelled “Techno’s intervention” is hardly surprising.

Something close to longing strikes up in his chest when he sees the two of them on the screen. Wilbur is curled up on the sofa under one of Phil’s wings, a cup of cocoa in his hands. They both look cosy, and Techno wishes Tommy would curl up to him like that outside of the nest.

‘I haven’t, I’ve been busy,’ Techno counters.

They all know it’s a lie. Techno has had a child in his house for five months, and was fostering for three before that, and hasn’t told his family about any of that.

‘Mate, I was so close to getting in the car and driving down to see you. Especially since you always come home in the summer. Plus, Dream’s been avoiding conversation for weeks, so I knew something was up,’ Phil says gently, in his usual parental tone.

Tommy’s out of the apartment. Techno misses his usual loudness, or the vibrating energy that has become a norm now that Tommy’s more in touch with his hybrid-side.

He glances away from the camera. ‘You’re right. I’ve been… I was worried about telling you something.’

Two-thirds of the other members of his sounder (and isn’t that a brilliant thing to think) give him encouraging looks to continue.

He takes a breath. ‘I… I signed up to be an emergency foster parent.’

When he looks at the screen, they both look shocked. Wilbur, more so, but Phil clearly is surprised.

‘But you hate orphans!’ Wilbur cries, before Phil shushes him.

‘That’s great, Techno. How long have you been doing it?’

‘Eight months,’ he replies, fingers curling and uncurling as he tries to stay calm. After all, it’s not their decision to make. If they aren’t impressed, he’ll just have to prove to them that he can—’

‘Can I ask why you chose to sign up?’ Phil cuts into his thoughts, nothing but reassuring as he smiles at the camera.

Techno nods. ‘I guess I just… I had space. You gave me and Wilbur a home, and you helped Niki and Dream find their families. I thought sparing a room for the night would be like giving back.’

Phil’s eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Oh, mate. You know you don’t have to repay anything, you understand? What you’re doing is amazing, but you don’t have to.’

‘I know,’ Techno promises, feeling uncomfortably exposed.

‘If you’re happy—’

‘It went a bit wrong,’ he blurts, eyes on the floor.

Phil falls silent. He can hear the rustling of blankets, the clink of a mug as Phil puts it down on the table to give Techno his undivided attention.

‘What did, son?’

‘The plan to be an emergency foster. I… I’ve got a permanent foster living with me.’

There. He said it. Ripped the band-aid off.

Phil’s suspiciously quiet. When Techno looks up, Wilbur’s mouth is hanging open and Phil appears to be deep in thought.

‘You’re fostering long-term?’

‘It’s more like a weird housemate situation, because he’s really not young enough to be considered a kid anymore, but he was alone and a hybrid and—’

‘It’s alright, mate. You don’t have to explain anything to me. As long as you’re happy, and you’re safe, then that’s all I care about,’ Phil soothes, wings puffing up slightly with Techno’s distress.

The piglin-hybrid chuffs, just once. He usually tries to hide the sound, but whenever he does make it, Phil responds with a familiar chirp. It stems off the panic attack threatening to cripple him, at the very least.

‘Tell us more about him,’ Phil suggests, and Techno pauses.

‘His name is Tommy,’ he begins, heart swelling at the thought of his runt. ‘He’s sixteen, fifteen when he arrived. A hybrid. He’s applying for the Arts’ Academy, and plans on starting in September if he gets accepted.’

When Phil looks nothing but delighted, Techno pushes on. ‘He’s… honestly, he’s loud. His file could put me and Wil to shame, and he’s got a habit of managing to run head-first into all sorts of trouble.’

Phil chuckles. ‘Sounds exactly like the two of you.’

Wilbur beams. ‘A little brother?’

The piglin was expecting it. It doesn’t stop a stab of jealousy from rising in his chest, angry at the thought of Wilbur swooping in and stealing Tommy. He’s a social butterfly, and Tommy already loves Wilbur’s music, but Techno wants to be the cooler older brother. What’s next, Phil going for the father role?

‘He’s a big fan of your music, Wil,’ Techno admits, and Wilbur looks delighted.

‘Really? Oh, you’ve got to let me meet him!’

‘But he did think you’re a simp.’

‘I am not,’ Wilbur says with a scowl, as Phil laughs.

‘Can we meet him, mate?’

Techno hesitates. ‘He’s a bit, uh, cautious with new people. I’ll talk to him about it, but I have some photos if you want to see him?’

Phil nods, instantly reaching for his phone.

Techno chooses four. The first is of Tommy fighting a goose in the park. The second is of him with Dream, no hybrid features on display, but with the older man in a headlock. The third is him hunched over his sketchbook, one headphone in and a half-eaten toastie by his side.

The fourth photo, he hesitates over, before clicking send.

It’s Tommy on his third week of stay at his apartment, slumped in the armchair in the main room asleep. It’s cute, because it clearly shows Tommy trusted him, but it also highlights why Tommy came to him as an emergency placement. Bruises cover his face, neck and arms.

He knows when Wilbur and Phil see that photo. The smiles on both of their faces falter, and then Phil glances up at him.

‘He was an emergency placement,’ Techno reminds them, anger bubbling under his veins.

‘Has he spoken about it?’

‘No, and I’m not pushing it.’

Techno arrived at Phil’s house with a black eye. Clearly, Phil’s thinking about the same thing.

‘What type of hybrid is he?’

‘It’s his choice to tell you. He’s kept it off-record.’

Whatever Phil was about to say is cut off by the door to the apartment swinging open, and footsteps sounding out as Tommy returns from meeting up with Tubbo and Ranboo.

‘Ayup, bitch!’ Tommy calls loudly, heading straight for the fridge.

Techno snorts. ‘I got more coke, it’s in the cupboard.’

‘The best of men, Tech-no-blade. If you repeat that, I’ll go for your kneecaps.’

He has no doubt the kid’s telling the truth, so he waits until Tommy emerges before going to say he’s on video call.

Only, a packet of sweets are thrown directly at his head.

‘Heh?’

‘Percy pigs. You ran out, I got you some more. Is it cannibalism if you eat them?’

‘I’m not a pig,’ Techno says, turning his nose up slightly in Tommy’s direction.

The boy rolls his eyes. ‘Sure, and I’m not a—’

‘I’m on video call,’ Techno blurts, before Tommy can finish that.

Tommy freezes. His eyes go wide, and the glow under his skin instantly dims. Out of the corner of his eye, Techno sees both Wilbur and Phil looking intrigued, waiting to see if Tommy will come and say hello to them.

‘To your family?’ Tommy says, staring at the back of the screen like it’s done something horrible.

‘Yes,’ Techno replies, watching his reaction. ‘Do you want to meet them?’

The kid blinks, then slowly shakes his head. ‘M’not… I’m all…’ he vaguely gestures at his arms, at the glow that hasn’t quite gone.

‘That’s okay,’ he soothes, doing his best not to freak the kid out. ‘We can wait. No expectations.’

Tommy nods, then vanishes out of the room so quickly that Techno wonders if enhanced speed is a Wither-boss trait.

**

‘Stop bouncing,’ Techno mutters, sitting in the booth next to Tommy.

‘Fuck you, you fucking dickhead. I’m not bouncing.’

‘It’s okay to be nervous,’ he tells the kid, scanning the entrance to the café so that he can catch his dad and brother the moment they walk in. ‘But there’s no need to be. They’re going to love you.’

‘Of course they are, everyone loves me,’ Tommy brags, gloves firmly in place as he trembles.

Techno turns away from the door to look at him. ‘Tommy, look at me.’

It takes a moment. The kid’s been jittery for the past two days, ever since this meeting was agreed. Quieter. The nightmares have been louder, and Tommy had a panic attack in a store yesterday, which ended with them both in the nest.

Normal blue meets his slightly-crimson gaze. ‘They will love you, because I love you.’

It’s the first time he’s said it, and he blames it on his own instincts going insane at the thought of his complete sounder.

‘You… you can’t say that, you don’t know… I’m not very—’

‘You are,’ he snaps, angry at whoever made Tommy doubt that. ‘You are very loveable, Tommy. There is nothing wrong with you; there is nothing that makes you unlovable.’

Tommy bites his lip. ‘Then why…’

He trails off. Techno’s not sure what he was going to say, but he can infer it’s something that needs to be brought up when they’re not in a café.

‘Later, okay? We can talk about this,’ Techno promises, before reaching to ruffle the kid’s hair. Tommy doesn’t protest, and goes back to quietly tapping his foot as they wait for the arrival.

It doesn’t take long. Wilbur opens the door to the café, wearing a ridiculously oversized sweater and a wired pair of glasses. His eyes scan the room, phantom wings hidden but his skin a little pale to be human.

When he spots them, he grins. Phil is right behind him, wings folded but not hidden, although nobody is particularly paying attention to them. The two head straight for the booth, and Techno slides out to greet them. Tommy, he notes, copies suit.

‘Techno!’ Wil cries, basically flinging himself forward. Techno grunts, narrowly avoiding a pair of spectacles bashing into his cheek as he hugs his brother.

‘Wil, you’re crushing me.’

‘I’ve missed you, so deal with it.’

As soon as Wilbur pulls back, Phil’s taking his place. His dad’s shorter then him, but Techno still feels like a child when he gets embraced, feathers wrapping around them gently. ‘Hey, mate,’ Phil murmurs, eyes bright and happy as he pulls back.

‘You must be the gremlin!’

‘Who the fuck are you calling a gremlin? At least I’m not an emo,’ Tommy shoots back, defences high but his face soft despite the insult.

Wilbur’s grin spreads to his ears. ‘Oh, you’re just delightful.’

‘Wil, play nicely,’ Phil scolds, before he turns his parental gaze to Tommy. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Tommy. Techno’s told us a lot about you.’

‘Good things, I’m sure,’ Tommy says dryly, flicking a gaze to Techno.

‘I told them that they will probably need a rabies shot, if you bite them,’ Techno replies, monotone, without missing a beat.

His kid scowls, and Wilbur laughs, and Phil guides them to all sit down. They’ve taken note of the gloves, and Techno made it very clear beforehand that they weren’t going to touch Tommy unless he initiated contact.

‘Techno mentioned you like my music,’ Wilbur teases lightly, leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands as he studies Tommy.

‘Might have to reconsider, now I know it’s produced by an overgrown beanpole,’ Tommy mutters, only fuelling Wilbur’s excitement.

‘Those are some big words for a child.’

‘I am not a child, I am a Big Man—’

‘An ickle, wickle baby man.’

‘I will fight you,’ Tommy says, but he’s grinning.

Wilbur’s good with Tommy. Good at putting him at ease.

They stop bickering for long enough to order food, and Techno makes a note of the fact that Tommy only orders fries. It’s not a big issue, because the kid is clearly stressed and he never does well with food when he’s under pressure, but he makes a note to watch the kid’s sugar levels.

‘—and then Sam said it was stupid-fying—’

‘Stupefying,’ Wilbur corrects, listening to Tommy’s ramble with nothing but interest.

‘S’what I said, dickhead.’

‘We’d love to see some of your art some time, Tommy,’ Phil offers, dad instincts in full-swing.

Techno bites down a growl.

‘Sure,’ Tommy says with a shrug, snacking on his fries. ‘Whatever you want, Philza Minecraft.’

**

Techno braids his runt’s hair carefully. Golden curls separate under his gentle touch, before forming into the neat pattern with golden clips added.

The kid’s purring up a storm. His eyes are shut, skin almost solidly blue as harmless energy rolls off him. Dream warned him that if the kid could learn to focus his energy-waves, then he could be unstoppable. He’s a hybrid, yes, but he’s got a lot of the features of a Wither-boss.

‘More gold,’ Techno grunts, making grabby hands for the collection of clips that Tommy’s holding. In return, his shoat offers them out.

He’s not at all jealous that Phil and Wilbur have had Tommy’s attention for the past four days. They’re staying for two weeks in a hotel just down the road, and they seem taken with Techno’s runt. Wilbur offered to teach him guitar, and Phil’s been assisting him in baking.

Techno might be a bit jealous.

When he’s done, Tommy’s eyes flick to the mirror. It’s a new addition to the nest-room, because Tommy likes being able to see himself covered in gold.

Tommy makes a completely-piglin sound, a grunting call to sounder.

Techno’s still amazed at Tommy’s ability to mimic vibrations. It stunned him the first time, before he taught the kid as much as he could about the different vocal sounds a piglin could make.

Sounder-happy-gold-protected.

They stay like that for a while. Techno hums to the boy, eventually reaches for a book to read the tale of Theseus. Tommy curls in the blankets like a cat, content to bask in the open affection.

As night awakens, they know they should go to bed. Tommy doesn’t sleep in the nest, no matter how much Techno wants him to. It’s usual for a parent to share a nest with hybrid children, or for siblings to share, but Tommy leaves. He understands that he has to be patient, but it’s difficult when he wants nothing more than for his runt to stay.

‘Did you mean what you said earlier? About… about me being lovable?’

Techno tenses. It’s dark, so he can’t see what Tommy’s expression reveals.

‘Yes. Without a doubt.’

‘And you’ll always want me in your sounder?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can… just for tonight, can I stay in the nest?’

Techno just tucks him in, keeping a watchful eye over the shoat. Tommy falls asleep eventually, purrs continuing even while he rests.

It doesn’t stay peaceful forever.

When Techno wakes, it’s to a dangerous vibration filling the room. His eyes blink lazily, trying to focus on the source of the glowing light in the room.

Tommy.

‘Please, please, m’sorry, I didn’t mean—please, it hurts.’

He’s cautious. Tommy, even if he wouldn’t mean to, could hurt him in this state. Techno reaches with gentle hands, careful not to box the kid in.

‘Tommy,’ he murmurs lowly, horrified by the kid’s pleading.

‘Hurts, please stop, please.’

‘Wake up, Theseus,’ Techno says, shaking slightly.

‘I’ll be good.’

‘Shoat,’ Techno grunts, body erupting in chuffing sounds at the thought of Tommy pleading with anyone to stop hurting him.

Tommy wakes. His eyes glow, and a wave of energy snaps out across the room. The window rattles, door breaking from the hinges and the mirror shattering, but Techno remains completely unharmed.

The kid’s eyes are frantic, sleep muddling his brain as he stares at Techno using his own light.

‘Tech, T-Techno, dad, help—’

He drags the kid forward. Tommy’s still so light, no matter how much Techno tries to feed him up.

‘Shh, shh runt, it’s okay, I’m here,’ he promises.

‘Dad, m’sorry, I didn’t—’

‘You’re okay, no apologies, don’t apologise.’

Tommy slumps in his arms, shoulders vibrating as the energy in the room fades.

They fall back asleep together.

**

At the end of the two-week visit, Techno has almost reached his limit of patience for his twin and his dad.

‘You should definitely come and visit!’ Phil says, a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. The kid started allowing small touches a week ago, and since then, it’s only gotten better. Worse. Whichever one accurately describes how Techno feels when Wilbur openly embraces Tommy, ruffling his hair and messing up the braid that Techno puts in every night.

‘Philza Minecraft’s house? Oh, can you show me the garden?’ Tommy asks, soaking in the easy affection.

Technoblade would never deny Tommy a family. He’s not going to, even if it pains him to see Phil be so parental.

‘Of course, mate. You can help me plant the winter crops, if you want.’

Techno’s chest burns. His hind-brain begs for him to go over and curl up next to Tommy on the couch, like his dad and brother are. He’s the only one by himself, on the armchair across from them.

It’s fine, it’s perfectly fine.

‘Oo, if the gremlin’s coming to stay you have to come to town with me! My friends would love to meet you,’ Wilbur insists, and Tommy blushes slightly.

‘If you’re sure, big man.’

‘I’ve always wanted a baby brother,’ Wilbur says with a grin, teasing Tommy.

But it’s not really teasing, because Techno knows their hind-brains are just as protective over Tommy as he is. It’s hardly surprising; hybrids are supposed to be together. Phil’s always been broody, and Wilbur’s wanted a little brother for as long as Techno’s known him.

‘I’ve never had a sibling before,’ Tommy chats, looking quietly pleased by this situation.

Wilbur beams. ‘Well, sunshine, I’d be delighted to be your brother.’

‘This is a strange family,’ Tommy jokes, ‘I’m your brother, and then Philza Minecraft is your dad, and Techno is my guardian—’

He’s the guardian, Tommy is his runt.

‘You can always be one of my boys, Tommy,’ Phil says, and Techno snaps.

He hears the growl first, erupting from his lips before he can stop it. His fingers break through the leather of the armchair under him, and his tusks dig into his skin as he tries to stop himself from giving in for the demands of blood.

Phil’s speaking. He looks shocked, and panicked, because Techno hasn’t lost control so easily since he was a kid fighting bullies in the playground. Wilbur reaches for Tommy, and that’s making it worse, but he knows his brother is just trying to protect the kid.

Tommy, ever the idiot, shoves out of Wilbur’s grip and does something that only he can do.

He mimics.

Sounder-sounder-hurt-scared-comfort?

The chuffing and snorting sounds halt Techno in his tracks. Completely-crimson eyes focus on the shoat, who chuffs again. Protector.

Sounder-shoat-shoat-come

The last word isn’t one he’s taught, but Tommy gets the idea. His skin glows a brilliant blue, eyes a liquid-storm as he clambers up onto the chair with Techno, beginning to purr.

It’s nice. Techno can scent the kid’s neck, then run fingers through golden hair and purr in response.

Mine-shoat-sounder, he pushes, knowing that some of those might be recognisable to his other sounder members.

Yours-protector-sounder Tommy replies, head tucked under Techno’s chin.

They stay like that for a while. The other two don’t move, knowing that Techno might see it as a threat. Eventually, as he begins to calm down, Tommy moves back slightly.

‘Dad?’ he quietly asks, unsure, and Techno leans forward to knock their foreheads together.

‘Sorry,’ he responds, voice rough and his head pounding.

Tommy rolls his eyes.

‘What have we said about apologising for things that aren’t our fault?’

His heart skips in his chest, staring down at his runt.

‘You’re right, shoat. No apologies.’

Tommy’s electric-eyes shine.

‘That’s more like it, Blade.’