Chapter Text
Technoblade’s headache only worsened over his time with Tommy, who was a terrible carriage rider. He couldn’t sit still or share one moment of silence any time of day. The only time Technoblade got some peace and quiet was if he decided to close his eyes, but even then he mumbles under his breath.
The easy solution would be to throw him off his carriage and leave him in the dust, but Techno’s never been about easy when it meant throwing away what amuses him. The quiet, the calm, he longs after, but this mystery chases behind him and he can’t help but be enamored even in the face of chaos.
This isn’t to say that Technoblade trusts his story, but what else is he supposed to believe? He takes the lie that he did in fact fall asleep for two days straight, but it’s the rest of his story he isn’t too sure about. Whoever this Tommy is, he’s surrounded in a mystery, one of which Techno is going to have Split Brain syndrome from trying to solve.
He’s unpredictable. He’s a child, yeah, but he could be a child murderer - as in the type who does the murdering, not to be confused with one who would murder - whatever.
“Where are we heading?” Tommy asks because he never quite stops talking. He’s incessantly speaking and rambling about whatever he sees in the forest.
Techno loathes it. He’s used to long comfortable silence in his lonesome travels. He’s only just met this kid, and he is already ready to throw him off of the cart for the wolves to devour. He resists the urge somehow.
Even through all of his rambling, he still can’t tell if he’s an orphan or not. He talks of a Phil and a Kristin, but he doesn’t call them mom or dad. They could be anybody. He’s no help, much less a reliable source.
Tommy is truly an enigma - nothing more, nothing less.
“The town,” Techno replies. His voice is clipped.
Tommy doesn’t pick up on his aggravation. He kicks his feet out in front of them as Carl leads them into the town. “Why?”
“Supplies,” he replies shortly.
Carl stops, and Techno slides off the cart. His boots hit the gravel with a satisfying crunch, and he presses his forehead against Carl’s. “Good boy,” he praises. “Watch over the dumbass.”
“Carl’s not a dumbass!” Tommy hisses, standing up on the seat.
“You’re the dumbass,” Techno corrects. “Sit back down.”
Tommy stomps his foot on the seat. He shakes the cart with the effort, and Techno worriedly holds his hands out. “I am not a dumbass, dumbass!”
“You’re going to bust your brains on the concrete or you’re gonna break the wood. Sit. Down.”
“I’ll bust your brains out,” he rebutts, stomping his foot. “I’m coming too.”
“Tommy, do you know where we are?” he asks. “Look around.”
Tommy can’t really see, to tell the truth. He reaches out and grabs Techno’s hand from where he left it stretched out. He doesn’t pull away and lets him hold himself up on it. “What’re you--Oof!” The boy jumped into his arms, and Techno caught him awkwardly. His legs dangled, and Tommy squirms to pull himself up. “I’m being attacked.”
“You’re stinky,” Tommy grimaces, climbing up on his shoulders like a spider monkey.“I still can’t see. Wait, Techno, what the -- what the fuck is that?” A night elf walking by tsks at the sight of the two. They elegantly turn their head as they enter through the gates. “What’s up with that bitch?” Tommy whispers, hand entangled in Techno’s roots.
“Night elves hate blood elves,” he replies. “It’ll be dangerous in the town which is why you should stay .”
“If it’s dangerous, then you need me. I’ll be your backup!” He leans forward and tugs on Techno’s hair. He doesn’t stifle his cringe.
“You will get us killed,” he points out cooly.
“Nuh-uh! It’ll be fun. I’ve never seen a night elf up close,” he says, letting go of Techno’s hair to point off into the distance. “Onwards, horsie!”
“You know what? I hope we get killed,” Techno grumbles. He lifts his hand behind his head to grab at Tommy’s armpits. Without leaning over, he managed to pull the child out from behind him and hold him upside down.
Tommy’s hair falls down, and he dangles in front of him. He was about to drop him into the ground when he started giggling. “You can walk if you’re gonna be rude.” He set him down gently.
“‘Kay,” Tommy says, standing up straight. “Stay close, though.”
Techno adjusts his satchel to where he can keep an eye on it. “Okay, Tommy,” he says sarcastically.
The kid steps in front of them and leads the way into the town. The townspeople clear out of their way. Some scowl at Techno’s presence, but the majority of them keep to themselves. Techno doesn’t care either way. He’s here for supplies and that’s all. It’ll only be a--
“Holy fucking cock and balls!”
Techno’s going to book it. He’s going to leave this shitty night elf town and never look back on the abandoned child.
Two people were looking at them before Tommy had decided to scream. Now, everyone was staring at the two newcomers.
“Tommy,” he hisses. “What happened to laying low?”
He sprints up to Technoblade with cupped hands. “Look,” he whispers, stars full in his eyes. He slowly uncups his hands. “It’s a star.”
The “star” flies out of his hands into the night sky. “Come back, friend!” Tommy screams, jumping. “Come back!”
“Shh,” Techno hisses, tugging him back. “Sorry.” He awkwardly waves his hands at the townspeople. He snatches Tommy’s hand and tugs him harshly against the path.
He drags him deeper into the town until they’re at a well worn shop. “Techno,” Tommy mumbles. “Do you think my friend will come back?”
“Probably not.”
He deflates. Techno lets go of his hand. “I’m gonna pop into the store. You stay. Do not leave. Do not move. Don’t even breathe.”
Tommy dramatically sucks in a deep breath.
He stares at him.
Tommy doesn’t exhale.
“Okay, fine, you can breathe.”
His chest heaves, and color returns to his face. “Phew, thanks, Technoblade. That was a close one!”
Techno raises an incredulous eyebrow before choosing not to dwell on that. “...Stay. Okay? Stay and do not die.” He made a “I’m watching you” gesture with his fingers before slipping inside of the tavern.
“Star?” the boy whispers beyond closed doors. “Star friend, come back.” He scans his surroundings before wandering off.
Techno disappears deeper into the familiar tavern. As a blood elf, he isn’t welcome in a night elf town such as this one.
Lucky enough for him, he has an acquaintance. He’s not brave enough to say a friend, but…
“Technoblade,” George greeted. “And here I was hoping you had fucked off and died!”
He gruffly sets his elbow down on the table. “...The usual, George.”
“Well, when you ask politely, of course!” George reached under the counter and pulled out a crate. “Your usual, right?” He leaned forward and cupped his hands to his mouth, “Penis enlargement pills!”
His ear twitched. “No,” he grimaces. “Maybe those are your boyfriend’s?”
George hums, unamused. “You’re not very funny.”
“You aren’t either.”
He could say friends, on second thought. Through his towns, this is the only store member who’s managed to memorize his name.
“Speaking of the bastard,” George says, packing up a crate, “I think he misses you.”
“...What makes you say that?”
George grinned to himself and passed the crate across the counter. Techno dropped his coins in return. “He runs over your duel all the time. Maybe if you swing by sometime… How long are you in town for?”
“I’ll be out by the end of the day.”
“Not surprised,” he hums, resting his chin on his fist. “You never stay in one place for too long, do you, Technoblade?”
He grabbed his crate off of the counter and left the tavern without so much as sparing him a glance over his shoulder. “Pleasure doing business with you!”
Technoblade is silent as a mouse as the door slams shut behind him. George and Dream are always exhausting to be around, even if his other half isn’t even around. The two are horrid to be around; Techno can’t even tell if the two of them are even friends.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says, expecting there to be a child waiting patiently by the door.
...There is not.
There is no one, in fact. A sinking feeling rises in his chest and he turns right back into the store.
“Back so soon?” George calls from across the room.
He gruffly leans against the counter. “Did a child come in here by any chance?”
He lifts his arms off of the marble slab and stares up at him in disbelief. “You should know I don’t allow kids in a place like this.”
“...He’s a sneaky one. A con man, I believe.”
“And did he do you wrong?” George asks, all ears. It’s not often Techno speaks of personal business, so when he does, George is all too involved. “I can call Quackity out. He’s good with that type of thing.”
Quackity, he’s met.
Quackity, he’s not prepared to deal with.
“I’m taking him home,” he announces, talkative in his panicking thoughts. “But it seems I’ve misplaced the child.”
There’s a blood curdling scream from outside of the tavern that follows close after. “Uh--”
“Yeah, that’s probably him,” Techno grumbles
George pauses and goes still. “Should I call the guard, or--”
“Nah,” he says, waving his hand. He leaves the tavern once and for all and follows the strangled screams.
There’s a crowd forming around the center of town. Techno pushes his way through. It’s an easy task with his large, burly form, and not a single night elf is willing enough to put their hands on a blood elf.
“Give it back!” a voice rings out.
There’s a tall night elf cradling the foundation of the beautiful fountain in the center of town. His ears are decorated with purple jewels, and he has long brown hair. It’s warm out tonight in this sleepy town, but he’s bundled up in a creme yellow sweater and a long brown skirt.
And then there’s Tommy, standing out like a sore thumb. He’s not a night elf or a dreaded creature like a bastardly blood elf. Humans are rare creatures nowadays. Everyone is affected in some way, shape, or form.
Night elves are wary around anything other than their own kind. Techno can’t really blame them after the war, but Tommy’s just a kid. A kid who has no outwardly hint as to what he might be.
Tommy’s eyes shift among the crowd. He’s unfocused and drawn around the instrument in his hands. His breathing picks up, and Techno’s about to step in when there’s a, “Hey!” from a nearby guardsman.
Tommy takes off.
He’s causing him way more trouble than he would’ve ever expected of a stowaway.
--
Tommy couldn’t even tell you the name of the instrument in his hand. He can’t figure out how the elf managed to pull such elegant sounds from it when all it makes is weird punched sounds.
He stops in his tracks and lifts up the instrument to the soft rays of the moonlight. With his tongue stuck out in the winter’s cold, he strums at the funny toy in a desperate attempt to yank a sound out of it.
The toy makes a sad sound. He pauses and tries to mimic the musician’s hold. He had looked so elegant in the town’s center with the moon reflecting off of the jewels in his ears. Powerful, elegant, and beautiful that musician was. So, of course Tommy had to steal from him.
He hadn’t really meant to, of course.
He only wanted to play with it! How was he supposed to know the stupid elves were gonna start screaming bloody murder at him.
He shakes his head. Phil told him never to dwell on the others, and he was right! Stupid elves, what the hell do they--
“Hey!” A pair of arms sneak around his waist and hoist him up into the air. His entire world is flipped upside down. He spots a pair of boots and then the familiar sight of his captor. “Oh, Technoblade!”
“You stay quiet,” he orders, voice as even as the ocean’s tide. Tommy obeys and focuses on keeping the instrument close to his chest.
Techno presses his palms to the corner of a building. Tommy takes the chance to pull himself up and mount Techno’s back. He wraps his arms around his neck, and Techno immediately lifts his hands up to grab at his thighs. He settles into the piggy back carry and keeps the stolen instrument pressed between them.
“Where are we going?” Tommy whispers, leaning into the warmth.
“Not prison, hopefully,” Techno murmurs, gripping onto him. “Hold on to me as tight as you can. Understand?”
“Mhm!”
There’s a beat of a pause before Techno takes off in a sprint. He sticks to the shadows of the sleepy town and presses to the front of a cottage. A guard passes by, but before he can turn his head and take sight of them, Techno slips into the cottage.
“Are we breaking and entering?” Tommy whispers, scrambling to get out of his grip.
Techno holds onto him tighter. “...Maybe.”
“Cool.”
Techno stalks through the house and passes by the couch where a man is sprawled out. “That’s a funny sleeping mask.”
The hunter has a giant circle mask with a smiley face drawn on it. He lives in that damn thing, even when passed out on the couch in front of the television apparently.
“He’s a weirdo,” Techno comments, gripping onto Tommy as he makes his way through the backdoor. He shuts the lights off to the living room and slips out into the night. They’d have to be careful getting to the cart at this rate; it’s got to be crawling with guards.
“Like you?”
“Shut up.” He doesn’t. In fact, his giggles only grow louder. In the safety of the woods, he sets Tommy down. “Everything good? Nothing hurt?”
“I lost my Star friend,” he supplies, not any help at all.
“Anything bleeding?” He tries again, but it’s all futile; it’s all pointless.
“I got this cool toy,” he replies in his own world. Techno sighs and grabs his arm. Tommy is still the whole time and lets him look him over for any injuries. Satisfied he’s safe from any cuts, he lets go. “What, not gonna check my hair?”
Techno crouches down to squat in front of him. He grabs at his head and feels for bumps. “Did you hit your head?” he asks, panicking already. “Where did you hit it?”
“No, no,” he giggles. “For ticks.”
…
“Heh?”
He lets go, and Tommy twirls around to face him. “Phil always checks for ticks after I come in from outside time. He says they’re controversial.”
“You talk about this Phil guy a lot.” Deeming Tommy untrustworthy, he grabs his hand to guide him back to the cart. Thankfully, he doesn’t give him any trouble and squeezes his hand back firmly. “Did you mean to say contagious?”
“Contagious,” Tommy parrots. “That’s what I said.”
Techno rolls his eyes. “Come on, kid. We need to get out of here.”
The guards are blocking off the entrance of the town, but Techno’s cart was parked just deep enough in the woods for it to be safe. He pauses just for the right time before swinging Tommy up off the ground and holding him in a football carry.
He sprints to the cart, throws Tommy overboard, and climbs into the front part of the cart. “Come on, Carl!”
Carl neighs at him and takes off, and they’re out of the town. There’s muffled yelling in the distance, but no one has the motive to chase them on foot into the woods.
Carl takes them out until they’re a safe distance away. Tommy peeks his head out from the storage part of the cart and clambers over the top to join Techno by the front.
“Easiest getaway mission in my history,” Techno declares, grinning. “You make quite the partner in crime.”
Tommy grins ear to ear and holds his fist out to Techno. He hesitates, eyeing the boy up and down. Tommy’s grin falters. “Aren’t you gonna… fistbump me?”
“Oh.” Techno clenches his fist and bonks it against Tommy’s. His confusion expression doesn’t fade completely, but he does let out a tiny cheer.
“Crime!” he roars.
“Shh,” Techno hushes, but Tommy’s smile is too contagious. Tommy stands on the cart with his fist raised in the air. “Sit. Sit down, Tommy.”
“Crime!”
“Down,” he repeats but harsher this time. He tugs on the back of his shirt until he collapses down on the seat.
“I’m hungry,” Tommy says, reaching over into the back.
Techno’s silent as the restless child leans over the back and ransacks his storage. “I am hungry!”
“I’ll cook us something when it’s safe to do so,” he promises. “But we can’t stop now. We’re too close to the town.”
“But I’m hungry!” he whines. His search came up empty. “Where’s the cocoa bars?”
Techno sputters. “Chocolate? Where do you even get chocolate from?”
“I always get chocolate after lessons,” Tommy answers, nose in the air. “And as we have done a successful crime, I think I deserve a chocolate.”
Techno stares in horror.
Who the hell is this child?
Chocolate is one of the hardest treats to come by. Techno’s only had it a couple times himself, but in these parts? It’s almost impossible to get. Only the rich can obtain something as obscure like chocolate.
“Are you--” He cuts himself off. There’s no way this kid is something rich. He’s parentless, for sure. He talks of two people and nothing else. He doesn’t even call them mom or dad, despite being about, what, six years old. He must be--
He must be a drug runner. A conman. The stolen child of some crime duo.
Should he even be returning him at all?
“After lessons?” he asks, prompting him to tell him more about the two strangers. He rambles about them on end, but somehow none of it comes up helpful.
“Mhm!” He sits back down in the cart next to Techno. “I’m doing really well!”
God, if they are drug runners like he suspects, what could his lessons even entail? Training him to become a conman?
Did they train him to trick lonely travelers like Techno into caring? But where’s the appeal in that? Tommy hasn’t asked for any money, not yet. He’s demanded the absurd delicacy of chocolate and a meal.
“You’re doing good?” he asks nervously, gulping down his spit.
“Yeah, I jus’ read Curious George last week, and Kristin says next lesson I can try reading by myself.”
He gapes.
“You shouldn’t leave your mouth open like that,” Tommy says. “Get flies ‘n shit.”
Techno doesn’t move, so Tommy takes it upon himself to gentle close his jaw so his mouth is shut.
Techno sparks to life slowly but surely. “To read?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Do you have anything I can practice with?”
Tommy’s stomach growls.
Techno softens, just for a moment. “...I don’t know if I have any books. Aside from my journals.”
“Journals?” he parrots, eyes blown wide with stars.
“Not diaries,” he says, desperately cutting off that thought before it can possibly bloom anywhere else. “Journals that account my days.”
“Oh!” Tommy beams. “I can help! Please!”
He side eyes him. “I don’t need the help.”
“Please! I’m so good at writing my letters now! Come on, please?” Tommy clasps his hands together and leans in. “Techno?”
“For practice?”
“Yes!”
“...Fine.”
Tommy roars with victory. Techno pulls out his leather wrapped journal, the one he’s been carrying for years. He gently places it in his hand. “Be careful with it now.”
“Okay,” Tommy promises, accepting it with his grimey hands. He flips to an open page. “What’s today’s date?”
“It’s November fifth,” he fills in. Tommy counts on his fingers before writing in a shaky 11-5.
“What did you do, Techno?”
What has he done?
Nothing, mostly.
In his journals, he accounts for the cities he’s visited. He accounts for the animals he hunts, for the monsters he kills.
Nothing of true interest, not really. Techno goes day by day with something uneventful, something kin to a lonely forever solitude.
It’s why his journal has been so empty after all these years.
“I met a stowaway.”
Tommy struggles with the pen. He gets the first three words right and then stumbles with the last word. “A-w-a-y,” Techno corrects.
“Shh, I got it!” Tommy cries, holding up his hand. He pauses. “Wait, what is it again?”
“A-w-a-y,” he repeats. Tommy writes it in.
“Okay. What next?”
“I thought he was a conman, at first,” Techno says, side eying him for any suspicious reaction. “But now I’m not so sure.”
If Tommy secretly is a conman, he shows no reaction at being caught. He’s entirely focused on scribbling in the words into Techno’s journal. “And now?”
Techno hesitates. He hadn’t thought he’d get this far. Surely, he thought, eventually he’d catch him in his lie, in this act.
But what if it’s not?
What if Techno genuinely just has this poor kid in his grasp? He kidnapped him, and the boy has yet to even realize it.
“I think he’s scared and alone, continents away from home.”
Tommy misspelled it, but he copies it down anyways. “And then?”
“I think… it’s time to get him home.”
Tommy fills it in. “And then?”
Techno pulls on the reins to stop Carl. “That’s all.”
“That’s it?” he echoes. “But--”
“Dinner time, I think,” he decides, clearing his throat. And when did it get so dry?
“Dinner!” he roars. “Techno, I’m starving.”
Techno holds his hands out to help him out of the cart. “I know, I know. Help me catch dinner, okay? Then we can eat.”
“Okay, Techno,” he says, grabbing his hand as if it was meant to be there. Techno doesn’t mind it, despite himself, despite everything. He grabs his hand back and squeezes. “Stay close so we don’t get lost.”
“...Okay, Tommy.”