Chapter Text
It wasn't the unending tooth pain that really got to Tommy, it was the deep chill that wormed its way into his body and dug down into his bones.
It reminded him of exile, how the water coated his body and made everything ten times colder. Or maybe it reminded him of after exile, when he trudged through the deep snow and nearly got hypothermia. He seems to be thinking of exile a lot more lately—specifically when he left. When he found Techno's house in the freezing snowstorm, and how the Piglin had held him close like nothing was ever wrong between them. It was nice, really, but Tommy's mind has been on it the past few days for reasons he can't explain.
It all started when he returned from the prison, his body restarted like a faulty computer. All the same scars were there but he felt… renewed, whatever that means. It was so intoxicating, he felt it hard to focus on much else. His skin was like that of a babies—taking damage was unbearable because, y'know, trauma—but also because every little touch felt new and tingly like he was experiencing it for the first time.
After that wore off, Tommy noticed something. Something new—not new like before, but new like new. A strange feeling, indiscernible as good or bad, but there. Humming quietly in the background. Tommy, of course, was deeply unsettled. First he wondered if something went wrong in the revival—then he wondered if Dream purposely planted something in his body, like a curse. That sparked a few nightmares. But after it had been a minute and nothing happened, Tommy mostly forgot about it. Tucked away in the corner of his mind to be explored later.
And then, something happened. Not anything major, he really just started growing more hair. That didn't disturb him. What did was the feeling of it, unusually soft and fine. It liked to flow together like fur covering his skin. That was what first started the thoughts of Technoblade, because it felt nearly identical to his fur. Although much, much softer, and the wrong color—but in that same category. It felt nice to pet though, so Tommy left it alone for fear of making more fuel for his nightmares.
That brings him to today. laying under multiple layers of blankets and other blanket-like things he could find, and surrounded by an absurd amount of torches and probably a campfire. It came in like a tsunami, and that weird feeling from before started to throb at his head, planting strange desires in his head—like to walk through snow once more to get to Technoblade's house, which was incredibly stupid because he can barely handle being out of his blankets. The cold was another thing that came with the feeling, his body just decided that it isn't made for the cold, that sucked. Believe it or not, there's more. His teeth also hurt. Just two bottom teeth but they ached like hell.
The darkness felt suffocating, so Tommy made a little hole in his blanket monster to look at the torch lights. Even with all this warmth around him, there was a thick loneliness coating the air. Every time he rolled onto his side and didn't bump into an unnaturally hot bundle of fur, his heart tightened just a bit. All Tommy could do for now was complain about his unfortunate predicament, and hopefully sleep it away.
Just before he closed his eyes, Tommy noted that his nails were starting to feel tingly.
He awoke with a jolt. The cold was completely gone, he wasn't sure he could feel anything except the need to act. He needs someone, he needs a caretaker, he needs—
Tommy's body moved by itself. He grabbed a random small blanket, draping it around his neck, and began to run out of the little dirt shack. He knew where he was going, how could he forget?
In a blink, Tommy found himself running with the same vigor he had before, straight through a raging snowstorm. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the cold began to drip into his clothes again. But Tommy couldn't give up, he was so close.
The fog in his brain was almost thicker than the layer of tiny white snowflakes blowing in the wind. His logical mind felt so far away—his mind in general felt far away. He was simultaneously aware that what he was doing was stupid, and unable to stop it.
The worst part was that he could now feel the cold. It was horrible. It ate through everything—his brain was ice, his legs were ice, did he put on shoes?
… His feet were ice.
What's going on? Why is it so cold? He can't do this, he needs his protector. Where is his protector? Why isn't he here?
Tommy didn't realize just how bad it was until his entire body started to shake. Mostly from the cold, but also because he couldn't hold himself up anymore. Tommy shut his eyes and weakly stepped forward a few more steps—the lights he found comforting before now felt blinding as the stars shone upon the white ground, reflecting right into his eyes.
He didn't notice the ground getting closer, and only knew he was on the ground when his fall was cushioned by a good couple inches of snow. Tommy was beginning to think snowflakes were made out of really small needles that stabbed you when you touched them. Why did people ever open their mouths to catch them? It made no sense.
A feeling of helplessness washed over him, and something bubbled up at his throat.
Tommy let out a loud whine, similar to a howl. Has he become a wolf? That would suck. A wolf that doesn't like snow, that's horrible. All the wolves like snow. Tommy would be pushed away from the wolf pack and outcasted. This is all horrible. Why does he have to be a wolf?
Loud, quick footsteps could be heard approaching from the distance. Fear struck through his heart. A predator? Tommy curled in on himself, sinking deeper into the snow he hated, it at least made him feel safer.
The arms that engulfed him were very warm. It was so tempting to sink into them. But he was a caught bunny, prey, so he writhed and wiggled out of the thing's grasp. He whined more, louder this time. He wished for nothing more than to smell his protector, and know he was here—but the cold stabbed his nostrils, Tommy couldn't smell for shit. Which was weird, because he felt like he should.
A low chuffing noise came from the predator—what? Not a predator? Safe? His mind squealed in delight, yet his body was in too much pain to do the same. He's come all this way for safety, and he found it. How wonderful is that? It was a happiness he hadn't felt before. Something primal inside him jumping for joy, clapping its hands together—lots of euphemisms for what he feels.
Tommy dared to open his eyes again and face the blinding white, but surprisingly, it was darker. He noticed he was now bundled up in a blanket-like thing. Soft, heavy.
Tommy decided there was no reason to fight the exhaustion. His eyes closed shut.
Distantly, the chuff turned into a crooning type noise.
"Go to sleep." It said, So he did.
Tommy awoke, again, having no idea where the hell he was.
He stared up at the ceiling, frozen—not in fear, but in exhaustion. Tired from dealing with the after effects of being revived that were, apparently, sleepwalking to random peoples houses. He assumed it was a house. His eyes were still blurry from the genuinely nice nap he had. He supposes it can't be that bad, unconsciously breaking and entering, if it gets him some good sleep—he's never been great at sleeping.
The house is pretty cozy. It doesn't smell like Dream (whatever Dream smells like. He just knows he'll know when he smells it) so he isn't 'get up and run now' afraid. The soft fuzzy thing he's laying on is pretty warm, too. It might be a bean bag. Or a dog. He likes dogs, so it'd be cool if it was a dog.
He shifted slightly, brushing his hand across its soft fur. Tommy could feel a slow heartbeat—thump, thump. There was a few seconds between thumps, just slightly slower than a humans. A calmness coated his brain and fingers, leaving them all warm and tingly. He wasn't afraid at all, and that should scare him in and of itself, but the lack of fear made him unable to spawn it from that. A lot of words to say he felt comforted somewhere he shouldn't.
Speaking of being places he shouldn't—where was he, really? The moisture in the corners of his eyes has long since dried, the blurriness is gone, and so far all Tommy has done is stare at the ceiling and pet the probably-dog beside him.
He sits up slowly. It's a cabin—small, familiar. Not familiar enough that he recognizes it, sadly. He assumes he hasn't been in this room before, or perhaps it's new. The wood smells freshly cut, sometime in the past few days—the logs haven't fully lost their life yet.
Tommy creeps over to the window, and sees only white. Wherever he is, it's very snowy.
Within, something clicks. Everything from the smell to the way the room was constructed, the snow, it all screamed-
"Tommy?" A groggy voice called out from behind him.
All of it came back.
He left- he gave in- He nearly froze off his feet crawling back to someone that probably wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, he was sure Technoblade would cut his head clean off if he ever tried to find him. He left Techno, not on good terms either. Did he regret it? Sure. Would he do it again? Absolutely. He loves Technoblade, but at the time— he'd spent months yearning to be pulled into his best friend's arms again. He stood atop that tower—Tubbo's picture held in his hand–jumped, then flew. He wasn't ready to lose him again.
Tommy held his breath and turned around.
Technoblade didn't look—well, homicidal. Which was good. He looked annoyed at worst, his fur was stuck up in every direction possible, and his eyes were noticeably dilated. "Tommy, where are you going?" He asked. Tommy failed to recognize the question. He simply stared.
Techno furrowed his brows and grunted. Tommy jolted back, freezing on the spot. "I- I'm-" He meant to say 'I'm sorry', but it just didn't come out right. He felt practically guilty, which was stupid. He never feels guilty for anything ever.
Technoblade looked down in a worn out manner, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tommy grit his teeth—the piece of shit had the audacity to look disappointed in him. After he blew up his home, almost sold him to Dream, he had the audacity- A surge of anger wracked his body like a lightning bolt, and his mood flipped in a second. "What?" He yelled, stomping a foot on the floor, of which he noticed was covered by a sock that wasn't there before. "Don't fucking do that! Don't- Don't look at me like I'm a CHILD!" He screeched out.
The Piglin looked taken aback, but he composed himself just as quickly as he fell apart. Pressing a hand on his knee, Technoblade stood. Tommy shut his mouth, walking backwards toward the window. He didn't feel comforted anymore. He was scared, terrified. He didn't want to be terrified, he hated being terrified. Honestly, it feels like he gets scared out of his guts every fucking tuesday. If it isn't watching his best friend of ten years slip away from him, it's being stalked by nightmares of someone dead, or someone painfully alive, or his own fucking body, or running back to someone he betrayed like a little baby. Like he's five again, throwing himself into Technoblade's arms like that'll do any good.
"I know you're mad, that's gonna happen." Techno was holding his hands up like people in movies do, to show he isn't a threat. That isn't true. These days, everyone counts as a threat to Tommy. "But you've gotta calm down, Tommy. It's just your hormones."
Tommy squawked, "HUH!?" His fucking hormones? He fully understood how women felt when men would blame everything on their period now. Because of Technoblades incompetence, Tommy Innit has become more of a feminist than he already was. "I've already done puberty, dickhead!" He sneered.
Technoblade let out an exasperated sigh, "That's not what I- ugh." He mumbled. "Just…" He clenched his fist-hoof-whatever the fuck that counted as, then made a noise. A weird noise. A noise he recognized as a chuff, but different. It was quiet as ever, but felt as loud as a helicopter to his ears. Tommy had the sudden urge to pin his ears back to his head. He hobbled over to Techno pathetically, avoiding eye contact.
He vaguely recognized it. It's a noise Techno would use whenever he got into trouble as a kid—he never knew what it meant, but felt a soft voice in the depths of his mind telling him he'd been a bad baby. It was never strong enough to care about.
Before Tommy had half a mind to bolt away and out the window, Technoblade wrapped his arm around him and began to speak in a low voice. "Listen, Tommy, something's happened to you. I assume the whole 'revival' thing had to do with it."
"No shit, sherlock." He whispered against his chest.
Techno flicked him on the side of the head, eliciting an 'oww!' from the small boy. "I've only seen something like this once before, cause revival isn't that easy of a power to come across, surprisingly." He said sarcastically. Techno then paused, looking to be thinking about something. "Do you know how hybrids work, Tommy?"
Tommy smirked, " 'Course I do. You've got one human parent, and one… probably not human parent. Like a furry."
Techno didn't seem impressed. "Not exactly." He let go of Tommy, satisfied with his lack of yelling, and began to rummage around his bedroom(?) for something. Now that Tommy was getting a good look around, the room is… really messy. There's a bunch of blankets everywhere mixed in with various trinkets, the only other decoration is the window and two torches.
"Here we go." Techno mumbled from behind a wall of blankets, and pushed Tommy slightly to face him. He held up an assortment of small lego pieces.
"Fuck is this?" Tommy asked, squinting.
Technoblade leaned back against the wall, and pressed two same-colored legos together. "Alright, imagine these are people, and the colors are their genes." He waved the lego not-person around like Tommy hadn't seen it the first time.
Tommy visibly deflated, then sighed. "Are you seriously about to explain this to me like I'm six?" Techno didn't answer.
He held up a second lego gene thing, then pressed the two of them together like a little girl would do when their dolls are kissing. "Look, they're… making love." Techno grimaced. Tommy had the decency to hold in his laugh.
His sharp hooves hooked under the line where the legos met, and he popped each head off the body. "Now imagine again this," He held a blue lego, "Is a human gene. And the other one is a non-human gene." He smashed the two legos together. They didn't fit. "Do you see?"
Tommy raised an eyebrow, "Well, hybrids obviously exist, so maybe you just got faulty legos." He quipped, chuckling a little bit at his own joke.
Technoblade ignored him, turning back to search through his assortment of things. He pulled back with a bottle of super glue. "This," He pointed at the glue, while Tommy mumbled something about not being blind—"Is, basically magic. Like the stuff that's in enchantments." Techno looked back down at the lego pieces, and begrudgingly set them back down—"This will be really weird to explain with toys… the idea is, everyone's got a certain amount of it in their body, and people who have a lot can handle human and nonhuman genes growing together in them. It's like glue."
"Why do you know all this?"
"I got hyper-fixated on hybrids once."
"Anyway," He continued, "Most of the time, people's bodies just choose whichever race the mother is. Yours probably sucked in a bunch of magic when you got revived, and now your hybrid genes are growing."
Tommy visibly flinched. "Hold on, what? No- my parents are both human. I know that." He argued. His fists clenched, "I'm not… whatever you think I am." Don't get him wrong, Tommy has nothing against hybrids—Tubbo is one, and he likes Tubbo—but the idea that Dream killing and reviving him physically changed his genes just doesn't sit right. Dream's ugly, invasive hand already fucked up his mind and body, from the scars visible on his skin and bones to the ones invisible in his brain—now he's changed him at a fucking molecular level? At some point in Tommy's life, he hoped he could move past all this. Ignore the scars—because it's still his skin, his body. Dream would never have that. But when he looks in the mirror and a different species looks back, he'll wonder if it really is his anymore.
Tommy didn't realize he'd zoned out until he felt hooves on his face, shaking his head lightly. The man looked visibly worried, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel a little bit good—to have Techno worry about him. "Tommy? Are you okay? What's wrong?" He makes another, louder chuffing noise that makes Tommy's heart leap. He doesn't need to grow new ears to know what it means. When he was littler and got himself hurt, Techno would hold him close and make that same noise over and over until he stopped crying.
It feels good for a minute, right even. And then it doesn't. Tommy's face contorts into something between disgust and anger, with a big dollop of fear. He pushes the Piglin off him with—honestly not that much force, but Techno backs away all the same. He doesn't want to be a small, scared child again, especially one that needs to be comforted by Technoblade of all people. Tommy needs to remind himself who actually cares about him, because he seems to have an amazing track record for picking out the absolute worst people to seek comfort in.
Technoblade on the other hand, looks almost hurt. He's making that face. The one he makes when he's guilty, or regretful—but it's covered by something else. Disdain? It still stings a little to have his family look at him with anything worse than disappointment, but he supposes he can't completely blame the man.
When Technoblade huffs, Tommy half expects a puff of smoke to come out of his nose. "Listen to me, Tommy." He grits out, "I'm not doing this because I actually want you in my house, I don't have any other choice." His eyes lock onto Tommy's, and the glare is enough to remind him he should be scared of The Blade.
Tommy tries to hold the stare, but he fails and looks downward. "Yeah you do." He mutters, and then louder, "You could just let me leave."
"Do you know what 'instincts' are, Tommy?" Technoblade asks, flicking his ear. Tommy takes a glance up and catches the man's new expression. Calmer, still a bit irritated. "They're little instructions in my brain that tell me who to protect, and who to kill." He explains. "The hybrid side you're manifesting is a Piglin one. It just started growing, and my instincts are telling me you're a Piglin baby. So I have to take care of you." Technoblade' asks, flicking his ear. Tommy takes a glance up and catches the man's new expression. Calmer, still a bit irritated. "They're little instructions in my brain that tell me who to protect, and who to kill." He explains. "The hybrid side you're manifesting is a Piglin one. It just started growing, and my instincts are telling me you're a Piglin baby. So I have to take care of you." Technoblades stern tone devolves into something more caring as the sentence continues. His eyes are filled with a sort of awe, but his demeanor displays reluctance.
"But-" Tommy starts. He pauses, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, eyes darting around the room. "Why do you have to listen? I mean, If something gives you instructions, it's not like you must listen to them. They're just there." He reasons, voice unusually soft. He doesn't know what 'take care' of him entails, but Tommy really hopes Technoblade isn't going to shove him in a diaper and hand him a bottle. He's not a fan of being coddled.
Techno steps closer, but stops when Tommy tenses up. He sighs, "Well, that's not so easy. They're like emotions. If I bottle them up, they'll just come back stronger later. If I do that too much…" His gaze darkens, "If you ignore your instincts too much, Tommy, they'll get stronger and stronger, and when they're too strong, you'll lose control."
Tommy doesn't argue, he just stares back. He remembers that happening sometimes with Phil. If he or Wilbur were in danger, he'd lose himself for a little while. He'd scoop them both up, and not let anyone else except Kristin get close. It got better as they both got older, though, and Tommy barely ever sees his pupils dilate like that anymore. So yeah, he supposes he understands.
"Good." Technoblade replies, and Tommy realizes he said that out loud. He responds with a small 'oh' and turns to look out the window. The snowing has stopped, and he can see the night sky quite clearly now. He can almost make out some stars in this lighting. Tommy's never seen Technoblade 'lose control', per say. Or, at least because of his instincts. The idea of him going crazy and finding Tommy and not letting him go doesn't feel good, so he decides he'll entertain the man for a minute. At least until the instincts… go away.
"So, I'm a Piglin?" He asks, looking back to Techno.
Tommy swears he sees Techno's eyes sparkle when he speaks. "Oh! Yeah, yeah. I have to teach you about being a Piglin now. If you want." It's times like these that he remembers Technoblade is just some awkward guy that happens to be leagues older than him. He is much more excited about this than Tommy is.
"Where am I going to stay? Did you get rid of my cool basement?" Tommy questions, tilting his head.
Techno grunts, looking visibly disturbed. "I'm not putting you in that… hole. You can sleep here." He gestures towards the blanket mess.
Tommy squawks, "What!?" First, he gets non consensually transformed into a pig, then he gets kidnapped by Technoblade, and now he can't even sleep in his nice basement. Worse than that, it reeks of Techno in here. "Technoblade, Techno, Blade, my friend, my buddy, my kidnapper." He sputters, "Please don't tell me I have to sleep in this room with you."
Techno rolls his eyes, "You'll be fine. Besides, I don't have a couch. There's nowhere else for you to go." He crosses his arms, shooting a pointed glare at Tommy, "And no. I'm still not letting you stay in a wet basement."
Tommy leans backwards, groaning. "Oughh! This sucks, Blade." He pouts. Tommy looks down at the blankets and decides they look cushiony enough, he falls backwards onto an especially pillow-filled section.
In front of him, Technoblade makes a high pitched pig-ish gasping noise, and stumbles over to him, grabbing him just before he hits the ground. Techno huffs, "Don't do that." He grumbles. Techno then places him softly down onto the pillows. He lays his hands on his hips, then turns away, staring at something outside Tommy's line of sight.
Meanwhile, Tommy feels scolded. He recognizes this feeling—the same as when Techno used that weird chuffing noise. He didn't know why it happened earlier, but now he wonders if it's his 'instincts'. He should have instincts, right? He's half Piglin, or, he should be now. He didn't tell the whole truth when he said both his parents were human. In reality, Tommy never even knew both his parents. He has vague memories of his mother, of her being human. No father, though.
"It's really late." Techno says from above. Now that Tommy has a good look at him, he's noticed how tired he looks. He did wake him up at whatever o'clock in the morning. "We should… get to bed, I guess." He continues, crouching down onto two big mattresses covered in blankets. Phil used to make nests to sleep in, Piglins probably have their own version of nests. Dens? The Nether doesn't have beds, so they'd obviously have to find some other way to sleep. This whole… blanket situation is probably Technoblade's den. That's weird—being in Technoblade's den.
Despite him landing on some pillows, the floor is pretty hard. Laying down on it is starting to dig into his bones, and craning his neck like this is already making it ache. If he could shimmy over… Tommy gazes longingly at the pair of mattresses guarded by the fierce lion. No, he's not so weak as to give into these horrible, evil desires. Tommy thinks as he discreetly climbs onto the bed next to Technoblade. They're big enough that he can sleep a good distance away from him, but still closer than he'd like to be.
The bright light of the torches hits his eyes, filling his body with a sense of home. That's new too. It reminds him of pet fish—he's wondered before if they burrow into fake coral, and wish for a home they've never known. He supposedly knows the Nether, but now it's almost like he never knew it at all.
In the fire, he finds a little piece of it. The home the world thrusted at him at full force. It would be nice to have a home again, if it weren't because of all this.
He should go to the Nether when he wakes up.