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The first sign that things weren’t going well for Tommy was when he arrived home from school and hung his bag and coat up at the door without being asked. He never did that - his shoes would usually be toed off and abandoned by the door, his bag left on the floor, and his coat in a pile on the ground - so Phil was already concerned. There was no light hearted hello, no I’ve returned, family! and no cursing out of his older brothers. Instead, Phil just heard quick footsteps running upstairs, and the eventual slam of a door.
He looked at the half chopped carrots, sighing quietly to himself before poking his head into the living room. Technoblade had headphones covering his ears and seemed hard at work studying, while Wilbur had his feet on the coffee table and nose in a geography book. He appeared marginally more approachable.
“Can you take over dinner?” Phil asked. “I know you and Techno have exams soon but--”
“Fuck yes.” Wilbur laughed, happily depositing the book down the side of the sofa and getting to his feet. “I love geography, dad, but I’m going to shoot whoever invented flags. Half of them are all the same.”
“Because we invaded half the world, Wil.” Phil pointed out, watching as his son gave him a look that simply said good point, before he disappeared into the kitchen. As soon as he heard the chopping of vegetables resume, he made his way back into the corridor and headed for the staircase, his heart aching as he started to climb. Both Technoblade and Wilbur were seventeen and preparing for their mock a-levels, and Tommy was twelve. Despite the age gap between his boys, Tommy had fit in at home quickly and his brothers adored him. Sure, from time to time Wilbur would call him annoying, and Technoblade would mention how loud he was, but they were boys and the love they felt for each other was obvious, no matter how it was phrased. The loudness was something their home had been missing before Tommy had joined them, it made their family feel bigger and brighter, and so the absence of that on his return from school had set off alarm bells in Phil’s mind. He’d never known Tommy to be so quiet, not even when he was first adopted.
Something was wrong.
Phil was careful to step on the creaky floorboard as he reached the top of the stairs. If something was wrong, he knew Tommy would want to be warned of someone coming to talk to him, and he assumed that the sound would be enough to alert him to the fact that he was about to have company.
It had worked, because Phil could hear the young boy scrambling behind his bedroom door as he approached. He waited for a moment to pass, before raising his hand and knocking softly on the door with his knuckles.
“Toms?” He asked, keeping his voice gentle. “Can I come in?”
He waited until he received a reply - a non-committal mhm hummed just loud enough for him to hear - and Phil pushed the door open. The lights were off, and Phil knew better than to turn them on. He could see the outline of his son hiding under his duvet well enough even in the dark. Closing the door behind him, Phil tried to convince his stomach to settle. He hated seeing any of his sons upset, and no matter how long he was a father for he’d never be able to shake the feeling of pain that accompanied their hurt.
“Hey, kid.” Phil said, walking across Tommy’s room and perching on the edge of his bed. He reached out with one hand, resting it firmly where he thought he could see the outline of a shoulder. “Do you want to chat about what’s going on?”
“You don’t have to pretend to care.”
The muffled words took Phil by surprise, and they felt like a knife twisting in his heart, but he knew they weren’t words directed at him.
“What makes you think I don’t care?”
“We had a secret santa at school today.”
That didn’t explain the situation fully, so Phil waited in silence until Tommy felt ready to continue. It hurt, and it hurt more when he heard a quiet sob from under the sheets, but he knew that going at Tommy’s pace and just being there for him in the meantime was the best thing he could do.
“And the person that got me forgot about me.” Tommy blubbered.
“Oh, Toms, it’s--”
“--He made a c-card last minute and wrapped it in t-tin foil from his sandwich at lunch, a-a-and it said that no one wanted me.”
If punching a child wasn’t legally frowned up, Phil swore he would’ve hunted down whoever told Tommy that. Rather than wait until Tommy felt ready to move, Phil shifted the blankets and pulled them over his head, too, so he could join Tommy in his little cocoon. He didn’t waste a moment, immediately wrapping his arms around his son and holding him as tightly as he could.
“That’s not true, Tommy, you know it isn’t true.” Phil said firmly, and he heard the tears come thicker and faster as Tommy’s body turned into his embrace. That was a good sign - he had to remind himself: if Tommy felt comfortable enough to cry like this, then he felt safe. He wouldn’t let his walls down if he felt vulnerable.
“We love you, so so much. You complete this family, Toms, and you are very wanted. I know it’s so easy to listen to the cruel words, especially when you believe them, but they aren’t true.” He shifted his hand a little, threading his fingers through the young boy’s mess of curls and combing through his hair gently. “Everything about you makes me happy. You’re such a funny young boy, you’re boisterous, you’re smarter than people give you credit for… You fit in here perfectly, you make all of us laugh, and I’m so, so proud of you. I want you, Tech and Wil want you, and we love you. I promise, Tommy, we love you with all our heart.”
The tears became sobs, and with the air beneath the blankets getting stuffier by the second Phil sat them both up, cradling Tommy close to his chest as he pulled their heads out into the open. He let the blankets sit around his waist and let Tommy position himself how he wanted - however he needed to feel safe and comfortable. Rather than say anything else or try to rush the emotions out of his son, Phil just sat peacefully, the slow, repetitive motion of his thumbs running gently over his shoulder and through his hair designed to help him feel calm. If it took hours for Tommy to stop crying, then he’d sit here for hours. Whatever his son needed, he would provide.
Eventually, Tommy seemed to run out of tears and sat himself upright, fiddling with the tie around his neck. Phil didn’t leave, even as his son pulled away, he just watched him silently.
“I know you love me, dad.” He said quietly. “I just… I wish other people did, too. Is that selfish?”
“Tommy, wanting to be loved isn’t selfish.” Phil said, his heart breaking all over again. “We all want to be loved, we all want to be accepted by our peers. Being picked on and bullied isn’t nice, no matter how old you are or what they say, it’s never nice.”
“Thanks, dad.” Tommy whispered quietly, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt before letting out a sigh and leaning back against his father’s shoulder. “I love you too.”
# # #
Technoblade had been on reconnaissance while Wilbur made dinner, and had reported back the conversation he’d overheard. The twins didn’t let their father know they’d listened in to the conversation, and they certainly didn’t let Tommy know they’d heard him so upset, they had other plans to carry out with the information they’d gained.
Clubbing together their allowance and the money they’d earned from their weekend jobs, the two played hooky from school a few days before Christmas. Technoblade had called the school and put on his best dad voice to make sure they didn’t call Phil to ask about where they were, and as soon as they were in the clear they headed straight into town. They hid the bags of shopping in the shed in the back garden, before coming through the door at the normal time.
If Phil knew anything was amiss, he didn’t mention it.
And when they snuck down on Christmas eve night to place a sack full of presents from Santa under the tree, Phil said nothing about hearing them giggling and shushing each other as they shared the cookie and milk that Tommy had excitedly left out - still clinging on to the last belief that Santa could be real.
None of the three mentioned any of this when Tommy’s eyes widened at the gifts under the tree, and just how many of them were for him. The sparkle in his eyes and the joy in his face was more than enough for them - they didn’t need credit. Keeping his Christmas spirit alive and reminding him that he was loved and wanted was all the thanks they needed.
Still, when Technoblade and Wilbur went to bed only to find thank you cards, a few extra gifts, and a top up to their allowance waiting for them in their rooms, they couldn’t help but smile.