Work Text:
Philza awoke, hand slowly going for the knife he kept under his pillow. Years of training and experience had sharpened him into a fighter, someone alert at all times. His sleep had been interrupted, and he was having trouble figuring out why- but he knew it couldn’t be good. His eldest son had more issues sleeping than him, and anything that could make a sound in the house was either placed far from the sleeping quarters or turned off and put away at night. If something woke Philza up at such an ungodly hour, then it would have had to be a person.
A creak. He could tell it was coming from his doorway, and the small breeze blowing in from the hallway meant that the door was open. Quickly, he jumped out of bed, into his best fighting stance with the dagger in hand and out towards the threat, using his slightly extended wings to balance himself. He knew he fucked up when he heard the small noise of a startled enderman.
Ranboo stood directly in front of him, and Philza immediately tucked away his dagger, which had been previously pressed against the chest of the tall man, into the pocket of his pajamas.
“I’m so sorry kid, I didn’t realize it was you,” the elder man apologized profusely. Ranboo still seemed very startled- Phil could clearly make out his face using the bright neon glow of the boy’s eyes, and he seemed on the verge of tears. He also looked, just physically, like shit- eye bags dark and prominent, hair ruffled, skin sweaty. Phil got the feeling Ranboo was not going to continue the conversation without a nudge, so he gave him one. “Is there anything you need, lad?”
"I, um- Mr. Minecraft, sir, I’m really sorry it’s just that I don’t know this house that well, so I didn’t know where to find the cleaning supplies, and Techno said not to poke around, and-"
"Kid, it’s okay. It’ll be alright. What do you need?” Phil asked, cutting off Ranboo’s rambling.
“Mr. Minecraft, I threw up,” Ranboo replied, and the elder man could practically feel the embarrassment coming off the kid in waves.
Despite the gross situation, Phil could feel his heartwarming. He was reminded of all the times this had happened to him before- it’s practically a rite of childhood to show up in your parent’s doorway and ask for help with some dumb shit. Phil was pretty sure Ranboo didn’t remember his childhood, much less his parents. You can’t exactly walk up to an enderman at 11 pm before a school day and ask it to help you chop down sugarcane to make paper for a project due the next day, that had previously not even been started.
The man smiled outwardly, which obviously startled Ranboo.
“Where did you throw up?” Phil asked, genuine warmth in his tone.
Ranboo was blushing deeply now, the green and red tints of his cheeks becoming overtly obvious. He replied in the same anxious squeak he originally approached Philza with. “In the kitchen.”
“I’ll clean it up kid, just go to sleep. Do you need anything? Tea? Tums?”
Ranboo was again stunned into silence at this turn of events, unsure if the other man was fucking with him like he would usually assume, or being actually genuine and helpful. The latter seemed less likely, but-
“I don’t want you feeling bad, kid. Is there anything at all that I can do to help?”
“Um… do you have the gummy ones?”
Phil chuckled at that, a soft smile still plain on his face. He walked to his dresser to get the tall teen what he needed and then told him to head off to bed. While Philza may regret offering to clean up the kid’s vomit, it was definitely nostalgic, in a weird way. He also just hadn’t felt like a… father in a while. Much less a good one. ‘Murdering a son and blowing up the other’s nation does that to you, I guess.’
He thought back on when it all went wrong. On when patching up knees from playful sword-fights gone south went to stabbing your child with the very same object you advised against playing with. When scolding your youngest for setting off rockets went to destroying his home with explosives ten times the strength. When talking to your child about their imaginary friends went to trying to help them drown those very same voices out. If he could have the opportunity to be a good father again, just for one moment, He’d take it. By the gods, he’d grab it with both hands and never let it go.