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War is an old friend of Technoblade.
He knows the familiar curves of War, the various dips and ridges that make up the heinous figure. He’s danced with War ever since he was little, born into a world full of blood and ash.
War is familiar, but it is not comforting.
It’s not comforting in the way wheezing laughter and emerald eyes are. It’s not comforting in the way dark wings and fond voices are. It’s not comforting in the way brown curls and guitar chords are. It’s not comforting in the way loud voices and vulgar language is.
It’s dirty, it’s bloody, and most of all, it’s exhausting.
Techno won’t ever forgive War for what it did to his beloved.
He doesn’t need to see past the porcelain mask to know of the exhausted emerald eyes held on deep bags. He can clearly see Dream’s hunched shoulders, his slow movements, the way every step of his is laced in fatigue. He can hear the deep sighs the man releases every morning, the sound echoing through the small tent they share.
He can feel his own pains of exhaustion, but it’s nothing compared to the weight of leading an army that Dream carries around on shoulders built up with faux confidence.
Which is why he loathes- absolutely fucking despises- the king of the nation that brought them into this. The man who sits up on his expensive throne while he drinks champagne and ignores the thousands of people dying around him, all the while Dream leads an entire army the best he can all while facing criticism that should rather be directed towards the King who brought them all into this.
Dream has never said anything about the constant objections, but Techno can see the way he slightly flinches everytime he thinks nobody’s looking.
The thing is, they’re supposed to be leading together. It’s not supposed to be Techno planning war strategies while Dream gets words thrown at him like knives. The blond man always takes the hits for the pinkette, always allows himself to be ridiculed whenever a plan goes wrong, or whenever somebody’s weapon mysteriously goes missing, Techno had to physically restrain himself against whoever brought that one up.
As much as the pinkette worries for his lover, he never says anything.
He never says anything because he knows Dream would bring up how his hands have been shaking recently, how he’s reverted back to his old skewed sleeping habits, how the spark in his eyes that appears every time he spars with the blond has vanished.
He knows that both of them are tired, and arguing about the other’s well being would solve nothing, all they could do was fight until they didn’t need to anymore.
-
The moment he caught wind of the news that the war had ended, the other side had surrendered, Techno felt tears spring to his eyes.
He was resting on a jagged rock near the campsite the soldiers occupied, sharpening his already sharp sword, when he heard the hushed whispers from the men sitting at a table nearby. One had come rushing into the campsite from who knows where, the other reading a book at the table, before the paperback was promptly forced out of his hands, the speed the man possessed while running transferring to his mouth, his words coming out a mile a minute.
The voice cut through the noise of a blade on stone, reaching Techno’s ears with well aimed ease. The pinkette barely heard “over!” and “go home!” before his sword was dropping, his focus now entirely on the men who were now celebrating. Once the words processed in his head, he was speed walking towards where his beloved was supposed to be stationed that day, cursing himself for not sleeping more earlier so he could run.
The sight of people hugging and cheering passed by his vision, the sound of shouts and laughter filling the normally tense air, cutting through it like a knife. Techno barely paid any attention to the people, focusing entirely on making his way to the outpost Dream was at.
When the man arrived at the smaller campsite, his steps faltered as he noticed Dream sitting on a tree stump, his head in his hands while his shoulders shook. The small smile that grew on Techno’s face during his walk transformed into a concerned frown, his steps somehow quickening despite his aching limbs. He knelt once he got close to the man, soft hands urging Dream to remove the ones covering his mask covered face.
When he finally removed the appendages, resting them lightly in Techno’s open hands, the pinkette was not expecting laughter to leave his mouth. God, he hasn’t heard that sound in months. Despite his confusion, Techno felt himself smile at Dream’s apparent joy, aching for them both to finally be allowed to be happy.
After a small glance around, Dream removed the mask covering his face, the relief in his emerald eyes nearly causing Techno to start crying again. “We did it.” Dream’s words were choked, laced in both fatigue and happiness, a long awaited grin covering his face.
Techno was sure the smile was mirrored on his own face, his own mouth almost unfamiliar with the stretch. “We did it.” Techno’s own words were thick, his emotions echoing through the air around them. Their faces moved closer to each other, resting their foreheads caked in dirt together, their hands meeting to intertwine beside them.
They did it.
-
The clean up process took longer than both of them were expecting, but they wanted to get it done as soon as possible. The ache for them to go home grew stronger everyday, but they ignored it in favor of making sure all the soldiers got home safely. Excess resources were brought to their King, who barely batted an eye at the blood that was seemingly permanently caked into their clothes. Techno’s eyes flashing dangerously at the actions of the man before a calloused hand guided him away, a small reminder that they were finally free.
-
Techno had always loved the home the two had, the small cottage up in the tundra, not far from Techno’s family, yet not too close either. The building held memories laced in laughter and adoration, love intertwined in every inch of the place.
Whenever it came into the view of the two sluggish bodies, the pinkette could have collapsed in relief. Opening the door released the ever-present warmth that surrounded the place, almost knocking Techno over. The smell of home cooked bread and old books lingered in the air, despite the two not having been in the place for months. Techno inhaled the addicting scent, Dream’s eyes beside him drooping with either nostalgia or exhaustion, the pinkette couldn’t tell.
Dream began walking towards their bedroom before he was stopped by a hand on his wrist, the owner guiding the two to the bathroom. “Tech-”
“Dream, we’re getting cleaned up before we sleep. I don’t want our entire bed to smell like blood and dirt, and I’m sure non-exhausted you would agree.” Despite his own drooping eyelids, Techno knew they needed to get patched up before they could rest.
Dream was practically limp the entire time Techno was rubbing the dirt off his skin with a washcloth, revealing old wounds that hadn’t properly been taken care of, which prompted Techno to retrieve the large first-aid kit they owned. When the man was done, Dream had numerous bandages wrapped around various parts of his body, but at least there was no blood or dirt left.
When Techno was in the middle of trying to figure out how he’s going to bandage his own shoulder blade, Dream softly grabbed the gauze from his hand, moving the pinkette around so he could reach the injured area.
The silence between them was comforting, only the sound of bandages ripping and the glide of a washcloth against skin could be heard through the small room. Techno could feel his own eyes start to close, the feeling of Dream’s hands on his skin sending warmth through him, how long had it been since they took care of each other like this?
“-ch? Techno?” The pinkette’s eyes opened in a flash, his attention being drawn back to his lover who now was in front of him, his hands gently holding Techno’s scarred face. He subconsciously leaned into the palms, his eyes beginning to droop again against his will. “Hey, we are not sleeping in the bathroom,” Techno could feel hands attempting to lift his body up, hands that could no doubt complete that task if not for the fact that Techno is now a deadweight and Dream’s arms feel like they’re about to fall off, “come on, you big baby, let’s go to sleep.”
Somehow, Techno finds it within himself to stand up and follow the dirty blond, his hand not allowing itself to dislodge from Dream’s own. The sight of their blanket covered bed almost brought tears to Techno’s eyes, the familiar comfort of the sheets resonating deep throughout Techno’s exhaustion-muddled brain.
He collapsed onto the bed, hearing the sound of Dream shuffling around to his own side, the blankets under his body lifting before settling again. A small snort sounded throughout the room, Techno barely able to hear it in his half-asleep state. “You’re gonna wake up cold, love.” He muttered a small “shut up” before making his way under the blankets, immediately seeking the warmth of his lover.
As sleep took over his senses, Techno could feel Dream pull them closer together, his hand coming up to rest in pink hair. He almost didn’t hear the small “I love you” from the dirty blond, his mind barely cooperating enough to mutter a quiet “I love you too” back before he completely lost consciousness, warmth consuming him from every angle.
They were home.