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Another day, another quarrel between brothers.
Ever since Techno’s found Tommy hiding in his basement like a little creature (raccooninnit, chat supplies), it almost feels as though Tommy’s been determined to be as annoying as possible.
Case in point: the full stack of gapples that he stole and is refusing to give back.
Now, don’t get Techno wrong; if Tommy were, say, using them reasonably, when needed in battle, Techno would gladly hand them over without a second thought. (He won’t admit it, but he maybe might have missed Tommy. Just a little. Just a little, chat.)
Tommy isn’t doing that, though, because when has Tommy ever been known as a reasonable person? No, no, Tommy has been eating his way through those gapples as quickly as he can.
Techno’s shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of chewing. He pauses in his tracks, staring down at Tommy, who is, sure enough, munching on another fucking golden apple.
“Why,” he says, deadpan. Tommy looks back up at him with wide eyes. “Why. Just eat anything else. I spent so much gold on those apples.”
Tommy shrugs, taking another defiant bite. Techno sighs.
“Apple rights revoked,” he states, snatching the rest of his apples out of Tommy’s hands.
“Hey!”
Techno holds out a stack of steak. “Have this instead, I am begging you.”
Tommy grimaces. “No thank you-”
He’s cut off by a knock at the door. It’s followed by a moment of alarmed silence.
“Hide,” Techno hisses, breaking the quiet, and Tommy scrambles down the ladder to his little den. Techno shoves the steak back into the chest from whence it came, waiting to hear the hidden panel in the basement’s stone floor shut. When that’s done, he finally stalks upstairs to see who’s outside.
The door swings open to reveal a pale, off-white mask engraved with a shitty little smiley face. And - to be fair, Techno doesn’t know who else it could have been, but fuck if his stomach doesn’t drop when he sees his brother’s abuser.
(The voices are in agreement that this is a Bad Thing. Techno’s thoughts are overrun with kill - kill - BLOOD - kill.)
“Oh, hello Technoblade!” Dream beams, dropping his hand from where it was raised to knock a second time.
“Hey, Dream,” Techno says, doing his best to keep his voice to its usual deadpan. He leans against the door with one arm, his other hand subtly brushing against the handle of his pickaxe - it’s the best weapon he’s got right now. “What brings you out here?”
Dream cranes his neck, presumably peering into the room behind Techno. Frantically, Techno tries to remember if Tommy’s left anything lying around. “Looking for Tommy! Was wondering if you’ve seen him recently.”
If Tommy hadn’t been in Techno’s basement right this second, if Techno hadn’t known what his little brother’s gone through, Dream’s cheerful tone of voice might’ve fooled him. As it is, all he can feel is a sick, disgusted rot eating through his stomach.
“Who?” he asks, furrowing his brow in fake confusion. “Oh, that guy! Yeah, haven’t seen him. Sorry.”
“Ah, that’s alright,” Dream laughs. It sounds fake, faker than Techno’s lies. “May I come in?”
Techno shrugs. “Sure.” He pulls the door the rest of the way open, letting Dream in. His eyes flick around the room - he doesn’t see anything that’s distinctly Tommy’s, thank God.
Dream runs his hands over every surface in the room - the potion stands, the crates, the crafting tables. “This is a very nice place,” he comments. “You’ve clearly put a lot of work into it.”
“A bit,” Techno hums noncommittally, watching as Dream cranes his neck, peeking up the ladder.
“Mind showing me around?”
Techno stiffens. He breathes in and out through his nose, forcing his fists and jaw to unclench before he responds, slow and easy. “Not at all.”
His hands shake just a bit on the ladder rungs, mouth dry, mind empty. With nothing else to talk about, Techno resorts to what he does best - mindless rambling.
“Here’s my paintings,” he tells Dream, who’s clearly raking his eyes over each and every chest, every dent in the wall, every crack in the stone floor. “This one’s by an artist who lived in the Empire. Good old times.” He points to a different one. Dream doesn’t look. “There’s one of my favorite pieces ever. The colors are just beautiful-”
“What’s that?” Dream asks, cocking his head.
“Hm?”
Dream stares at him. “Thought I heard something.”
“Ah, yeah.” Techno attempts a smile. “There’s a lot of creaks and noises ‘round here. Real cold. Probably nothing.”
“...Yeah.” Dream shoves past Techno, scaling down the ladder to the basement. “What’s down here?”
For a brief second, Techno panics, the voices shouting for blood. He shoves it down, scrambling after Dream. There’ll be time to worry later.
“Well, as you can see, here’s Bob. He’s my cow. And that’s my to-do list.”
“‘Commit minor terrorism’?” Dream asks. If Techno could see his face, he’d bet that Dream had an eyebrow cocked.
He grins. If he bares his tusks in the process, well, that’s just a side effect. “That’s kinda my thing.”
Dream chuckles. “Well, you won’t see me complaining.” His laughter cuts off sharply, abruptly, like he’s decided the fun’s over.
A muffled, choked cough rings out in the silence. Tommy. It has to be Tommy.
KILL - KILL - KILL - KILL - KILL, the voices chant, reaching a horrific crescendo of noise.
“Anyway, that’s basically my base,” Techno forces out. He doesn’t know how his voice is still staying roughly even. “You should probably start heading back to the SMP before it gets dark."
Dream looks directly at him for a long, long moment. “...Thought I heard the noise again,” he says.
Fuck.
“I didn’t hear anything,” Techno says, shrugging. That’s the lie he’s come up with? “You must be getting tired. I know I am.”
There’s another long, horrifying pause. Techno keeps his poker face on, maintaining eye contact with Dream’s mask. His heart pounds in his chest. The voices scream in his head.
Finally, Dream speaks again. “You’re right, Techno.” The fake cheer is back in full force, now. “Show me the way out?”
“Oh! Of course.”
It takes everything in Techno’s being to not grab Dream and shove him out of the house as quickly as possible. He ends up ushering him through the doorway at a pace that’s just a bit faster than casual.
Dream steps outside, and then turns back, looking over his shoulder. “Nice talking to you.” It sounds like a threat.
“You too,” Techno manages, closing the door with something that’s just short of a slam.
He peers through the window, watching as Dream stares up at the house for a long minute before leaving in the direction of the turtle farm. Then and only then does Techno gust out a heavy sigh, dropping his head into his hands.
“Chat, you really gotta stop calling for blood when it’s strategically disadvantageous,” he mutters. DREAM IS GONE, they yell back, and there’s Techno’s cue to start ignoring them again.
“Tommy?” he calls, shuffling back down to the first floor and then the basement.
There’s no reply.
“...Tommy?” He waits a beat. Maybe Tommy didn’t hear him?
Still nothing.
Techno chips away the hidden panel in the floor, revealing Tommy’s ladder. “I’m coming down,” he warns.
When he lands in the sub-basement, stone cold against his hooves, he doesn’t see Tommy at first. It takes him a second pass over the room to notice the shaking bundle huddled at the foot of Tommy’s bed, as far from the ladder as possible.
“Tommy?”
His brother doesn’t respond. Techno steps forward hesitantly, hooves clacking against the ground. At the noise, Tommy finally whimpers - it’s the first noise he’s made the whole time.
“Are you okay?” Techno asks, crouching down in front of his brother, voice instinctively soft.
It’s only then that he notices the tears falling down Tommy’s cheeks and the way his teeth are clamped around his own fingers.
“Hey, hey,” Techno soothes, gently prying Tommy’s hand away from his face. He glances at it for a second; it’s small and thin in his grip, and there are clear bite marks around his first knuckle. Techno winces in sympathy before letting it go.
Tommy lets out a sob, and Techno’s gaze snaps back up to look at his face. He catches a glimpse of red cheeks and wet eyes before Tommy’s buried his head between his knees, wheezing and crying and gasping for air.
“Woah,” Techno exclaims softly, hands fluttering above Tommy’s shoulders. Truthfully, he’s not quite sure what to do. He’s had his own fair share of panic attacks, though - and that’s what this has to be - and so he frantically wracks his brain thinking of what he’d want someone to do for him. Of course, the second he actually needs some advice, his head’s gone silent.
“Do - are you okay with me touching you?” is what he lands on.
He waits a long moment until he thinks he sees Tommy nod, and then he rests a gentle hand on his little brother’s shoulder. “Breathe, kid.”
“C-can’t,” Tommy chokes out. “Dying.”
“Yes you can,” Techno counters, gentle as can be. “You’re talkin’ to me right now.” He blinks, taking Tommy’s hand again as it tries to fly back to his mouth. “Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Tommy hiccups. “G-gotta be qui-quiet.”
And, oh. Techno’s put together what’s going on.
He squeezes Tommy’s shoulder just a bit, tight enough to be grounding but loose enough to let Tommy leave his grip if he wants. “You don’t have to be quiet anymore, kid. Dream’s gone.”
That - shit. That was not the right thing to say. At the mere mention of Dream’s name, Tommy tenses even more, wheezes picking up again.
“No, no, no, no,” he whispers under his breath, before getting cut off by a sob. Techno freaks out himself, for a second - what does he even do?
“Hey,” he says. “Hey. Just focus on my voice. Nothing else. Y’wanna hear about my turtle?”
Tommy shudders, and Techno’s terrified that he’s done the wrong thing again, even as he babbles on about Toby. Slowly, though, ever so slowly, Tommy slowly calms down. His hand flies up again, and Techno prepares to grab it, but it’s not making the beeline to his mouth - instead, it fists in Techno’s shirt.
“W-where are the gapples,” Tommy stammers. “I need - where are they.”
He’s talking again. Good. That’s good.
“I don’t know if eating is a good idea at this exact moment-” Techno starts, cutting himself off when he takes in Tommy’s face. He’s pale where he’s not bright red, eyes blown wide.
“Please,” Tommy coughs out, and reluctantly, Techno takes his free hand to go rummaging through his own pockets. Blessedly, he has some - they’re the same ones he took from Tommy earlier.
He presses one into his brother’s hand, and Tommy immediately clenches his fingers around it, his grip so tight that Techno can see the apple start to bruise.
Before Techno knows it, Tommy’s wolfed down the entire thing, giving his eyes the slight sheen of a potion effect. With that, he relaxes just a bit more. Techno squeezes his shoulder again.
“...D’you want a hug?” he offers. Tommy nods, stronger this time, and Techno pulls his brother’s to his chest, hooking his chin over Tommy’s head. He can still feel Tommy shaking, can hear his heartbeat pounding faster than a rabbit’s, can feel the wetness of Tommy’s tears starting to seep through his thin dress shirt.
Gently, Techno rocks back and forth, hand coming up to nestle in Tommy’s hair. He focuses on breathing slowly and steadily and consistently, and gradually, he can feel Tommy stilling.
“Are you feeling better?”
Tommy huffs. “I - yeah.”
“Good.”
Even with Tommy’s confirmation, Techno stays there in that hug until the last of Tommy’s hiccups level out, until his leg starts to cramp from the angle it’s at. Then and only then does he gently lean back, keeping his hands resting on Tommy’s shoulders all the while.
“Y’wanna talk about it?” he offers.
“Not really,” Tommy says immediately, giving Techno a tired, thin-lipped smile. Despite what he’s just said, he keeps talking anyway. “Just… Heard Dream and. Bam.” He waves his hands around as though it illustrates his point in any way whatsoever.
(Techno understands what he’s getting at. He’s had at least ten years of experience decoding what Tommy means when he talks.)
“Y’need me to kill that bastard for you?” he asks, the voices chipping in with a few stray BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GODs.
Tommy laughs, and it’s a bit more hysterical than usual, but it’s still wholly his laugh. “No need, Big Man. Thank you though.”
Techno smiles, just a little bit. “I’ll do it if you want me to. Just say the word.”
“You are far too cheerful for a man who’s talking about murder.”
Techno grins wider. “That’s my brand.”
There’s a beat in the conversation. Techno stretches his leg out, shaking out the pins and needles. A thought suddenly occurs to him.
“Can I ask… Can I ask about the gapples?” he says, hesitant. He’s not sure he’ll like the answer.
Tommy blinks. “Well, it’s the absorption, isn’t it.” He says it so matter-of-fact, like it’s obvious.
Oh. Oh. Techno’s eyes go wide as he realizes what’s been going on. Tommy’s been going on about dying and third lives and Dream in particular, and he’s been eating all of Techno’s golden apples, and those two things are related.
“Why didn’t you say somethin’ Tommy?” he asks.
Tommy shrugs, averting his gaze. “S’not a big deal.”
“Absolutely not,” Techno frowns.
“What?”
“It’s absolutely not “not a big deal”,” he clarifies. “I’d’ve let you keep the apples if I knew.” Your wellbeing is more important than some apples.
Eyes wide, Tommy looks back up at Techno. “Wait, no, you don’t have to give them to me as a - a pity gift,” he says, and he sounds somewhere in between pissed and afraid, and oh, Techno does not like the implications of that.
Sighing, Techno tucks a fallen piece of hair back behind his ear. Were he not already unretired, he’d strongly consider it just for Tommy’s sake. “It’s not pity, Tommy. It’s just a gift.”
Tommy eyes him suspiciously, but Techno can see him slowly warming up to the idea.
“Y’can just ask for stuff,” he says, doubling down. “You don’t need to steal anything. I’ll probably give it to you.”
“Netherite,” Tommy says immediately, as if he’s come up with something unbeatable. Techno quirks an eyebrow and gestures towards the netherite sword leaning against the wall just a few feet away.
“...Point taken.”
Techno nods. “I’m serious about this, Tommy. I can just get a bit more gold than before from the Nether, for the apples. It’s really not a big deal.”
Tommy flounders, at that, like he doesn’t know what to say. “Really?” His voice cracks, and he looks a bit like he’s about to cry again.
Techno pats his shoulder lightly, once, twice. “Of course.”
There’s another beat of silence, and then Tommy grimaces, shifting on the floor. “It’s so cold and shit down here. I’m going upstairs.” When he gets to his feet, his legs are a bit shaky still, but they even out soon enough.
Techno stands, too, trailing behind his brother.
Tommy turns back just before the ladder. “Hey, ‘Blade?”
Techno hums. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”