Archive of Our Own

Phil had been fostering on and off for the past few years. The house always felt uncomfortably empty whenever there were no kids running around to fill the space. He'd gotten quite good at the whole foster parent thing, he thinks, judging by how long he'd been doing with and getting kids to open up to him.

Phil figures that maybe he should give some of the more... difficult kids a try. Phil doesn't like to think about kids as stepping stones, from easy to hard, like some sort of leveling system. They're  children , for god's sake, living and breathing people, but... That doesn't change the fact that  some  kids are definitely more challenging to take care of than others. The ones with trauma, mental illness, hell, even over the age of three. The ones white people who like to pretend they're good Christian parents by adopting would never consider. Phil thinks that maybe... he could try to give them a chance.

Several phone calls later, late nights, exchanging information with various social workers, and going over files, Phil has set up everything he needs to. There aren't always kids in Phil's home, and it feels a little odd, but he tries to pass the time in peace. It's about a week later when a woman he's familiar with calls him.

She tells Phil about a kid that just got out of another foster home. He'd gotten unlucky with a bad first home and has been shuffled around since. Phil's heartstrings tighten as the social worker goes over his file with Phil. Thirteen years old and packed full of trauma. It doesn't take much to convince Phil. Like he would ever say no in the first place.

A few days later, Phil opens his door to a social worker. She's got a kid with her, and Phil assumes that he's the one he had spoken about on the phone.   Her hand is resting on the back of the kid's neck like he might bolt, and that makes Phil a little anxious. All and all... the kid doesn't look great. He's got shoulder-length brown hair, cut in choppy sections that don't look very intentional. There's a scab on his lip, and patches of skin are discolored in with what looks like faded bruises.  What did Phil get himself into ?

"Philza?" The woman asks.

"Hello," he says. "Just Phil is fine."

The woman smiles and starts talking over things and handing Phil papers. It isn't long before the kid, Technoblade, is allowed to come inside, and the social worker leaves.

"Hello," Phil says again, looking towards Technoblade. "My name is Phil."

Technoblade just stares at him.

"Right." Phil claps his hands together and immediately regrets it when the poor kid flinches. "I'm going to show you around, and then you can get settled into your room. That sound good?"

Technoblade nods.

Phil takes him on a small house tour, keeping his hands to himself when he notices how Technoblade--god, that's a mouthful. Techno? Techno.--when he notices how Techno shies away from his grip. He goes over the basics, the kitchen, living room, bathrooms, anything Techno might need in his first few days. The entire time, Techno grips onto his bag like his life depends on it.

"My room is over there." Phil points down a hall next to his office. "You can come in whenever the door is open, or the light is on. If you need anything, just ask."

Techno nods.

"Alright... last is your room. Make yourself at home, set up whatever you have." Phil moves upstairs, Techno following quietly behind. Phil stops in front of the first door of the corridor, pushing it open for Techo. The kid scurries in, practically slamming the door behind him. With a door in his face, Phil sighs and drops the tension from his shoulders. He's suddenly second-guessing all of his parenting experience and all the research he's done.

Whatever. Phil can't do that now, second guess himself. Techno is here now, and it's Phil's job to take care of him as best he can. Speaking of that, he should restock his bandaids and anti-bacterial cream. He also needs to find good places for a haircut.

--

It's only been a little over a week, Phil knows that, but the fact that he's only spoken to Techno about three times, most of which on his first day, puts him a little on edge. The kid has trauma, obviously. Something is going on there that Phil doesn't know about and is entirely unqualified to deal with. He didn't want to  overwhelm  Techno by trying to force him to talk about it, though.

Phil sets down a plate of food in front of Techno's door. He knows Techno has been eating, thankfully, judging by the food that randomly disappears from his fridge and pantry. Most of it has been snack food, though, and Phil really hopes he can convince the kid to grab healthier stuff. He knocks on the door quietly.

"Hey, Technoblade... I left some food out. Grab it whenever. It's not hot or anything. Just some fruit."

Silence.

Phil sighs. He turns, freezing when he sees Techno emerge from the bathroom. Techno does the same, halting all movement and looking at Phil with wide eyes.

"Oh, sorry," Phil immediately says. "I was just-uh, I was leaving you some fruit. In case you wanted any."

Techno glances down at the plate. Quickly, he drags his fingers through his hair, catching on several tangles. It takes Phil much longer than it should've for him to figure out that Techno was waiting for him to move from in front of his door. Phil steps out of the way with an awkward chuckle, pressing his back to the opposite wall. Techno watches him cautiously, quickly slipping by, pausing to pick up the plate, and disappearing inside his room.

"Thanks," Techno says.

Well... it could've gone a lot worse.

The tension releases from Phil's chest. He  knew  things would have a rough start, but he seriously wonders if he's doing things right.

Phil guesses his question was answered when Techno shuffled downstairs that evening, shyly handing over his plate and grabbing another apple on his way out.

Phil is carting some papers into his room when he accidentally bumps into Techno. He drops several files, thoroughly frazzled, papers spilling all over the floor.

"Sorry, kiddo, I didn't see you there--" Phil's everything stops when he glances up to Techno. He's pressed against the wall, looking absolutely horrified at the fact they bumped into each other and completely ready to bolt.

"Oh, whoa, it's okay." Phil lowers himself onto one knee slowly. "I'm not mad. We just didn't see each other, alright?"

God, he hopes this is working . Techno swallows and nods.

"Complete accident. Can you help me pick up the papers?"

Techno nods quickly, dropping down to the ground and gathering the papers around him quickly. Phil's heart is racing; he feels like he's on  thin  ice right now, picking up papers with a thirteen-year-old with choppy hair. Techno sorts his documents out, half of them probably upsidedown, but Phil doesn't mention it. He shoves them into Phil's hands, flinching away when their hands brush against each other. He disappears after that.

Phil feels... horrible. His room is past the bathroom and tucked away from the rest of the house, meaning Techno was going  downstairs . In the middle of the afternoon. The one time he decides he's okay to come outside and stop hiding, Phil fucking runs into him and ruins everything.

He drags his hand down his face. God, this kid was taking a lot out of him. But he can't be negligent; he'd never forgive himself. He'd at least give Techno a decent time before this is all over.

The next day, Phil decides to try his luck.

He has to go shopping. He was getting low on food, a fact that was only painfully highlighted by Techno's recent behavior. Occasionally he'd scuttle into the kitchen and grab nearly a whole armful of food before disappearing again. He constantly looked anxious, checking places around the house to make sure it was still stocked with food. His anxiety bled into Phil more often than not.

Phil knocks on Techno's door, resting his weight in his shoulder against the well.

"Hey, Technoblade," he says. "I have to go shopping, and no offense, but I don't really want to leave you here alone. Will you come with me?"

A few silent minutes pass by. Phil is about to give up when the doorknob jiggles a little, and the door creaks open. From the empty space, Techno emerges, looking hesitant but not terrified like he did before. Phil can't help his smile.

"Great. I'll get my jacket, and we can head out, alright?"

The car ride is long and silent. Techno agreed to sit in the front next to Phil, spending the entire time staring out the window. Phil turns on one of the various audiobooks he started but never finished to fill the silence, his brain scrambling to remember the plot. Techno seemed to enjoy it enough, as he quickly glanced over to Phil when he shut it off. He looked like he was about to say something before Phil parked the car, quickly putting the pieces together.

Shopping, much like everything else, was completely silent. Phil went through his list, mumbling to himself about how much milk he had, whether or not to pick up yogurt, and the like. Occasionally he'd ask for Techno's opinion, but the most he got was a shrug and an occasional glare. Techno was much more... standoffish at the store instead of skittish. It didn't get on Phil's nerves, per se, but it was quite draining to try to work around.

"Do you want to pick something out?" Phil asks, making Techno's head snap towards him. "Anything you want. As a treat."

Techno's mouth opens for a second as he weighs his odds before quickly looking up at the aisle numbers and contents. He speedwalks through the store, forcing Phil to keep up with him, before making a sharp turn. Phil waits at the end of the aisle, watching Techno brush past people who didn't even notice him and grab a bag of... potatoes? When Techno's happy, he jogs back and deposits the small sack into the cart.

"Potatoes it is, then," Phil says, and they head to the checkout.

The potatoes make a lot more sense when Phil emerges from work late one night. Techno was bustling about in the kitchen, making himself a quite delicious-looking baked potato.

--

Phil knows night terrors can be a side effect of trauma, but nothing can ever really prepare you for the experience of waking up to  screaming .

Phil throws himself out of bed, running to Techno's room and practically throwing the door open. It's the first time he'd stepped into the room in the month and a half he'd had Techno, but he couldn't dwell on that. Techno was laid bundled up on his bed  screaming . His hands pushed against the sheets, caught under his weight, so Phil figured he should start there.

Phil dropped to his knees next to the bed and pulled the sheets out from under Techno as carefully as he could. Techno's hands, now free, flew to his hair, and Techno's body thrashed to the side, elbowing Phil square in the face. Ouch.

"Hey, Techno?" Phil puts a hand on Techno's shoulder, much harder than he would like, but it keeps him somewhat still. "Wake up, Techno."

Techno gasps awake, eyes immediately snapping to Phil. Tears streak his cheeks, and his breathing is erratic, getting worse by the second.

"Hey, it's alright," Phil coos, pulling his hands away. "It's just a dream. You're safe here; it's alright."

Techno's breathing stutters in his chest. Then he breaks into a sob, fingers digging painfully into his hair and pulling. Phil shushes him gently, working his hands under Techno's until he lets go. He cringes when several strands of hair fall away, but he can't do anything about it now. All he can do is quietly console Techno until his breath stabilizes and he seems alright enough to go back to sleep. Techno doesn't want to talk about it, unsurprisingly. Phil doesn't think he'd want to, either.

The next morning, Phil is calling around to local therapy offices. He manages to get set up with someone who seems nice enough and specializes in teenagers. Phil sighs, marking the appointment in his calendar and moving on to make some food.

Techno emerges forty or so minutes after that, drawn out by the smell of food. Phil smiles after offers him a plate. Techno takes it after a moment of hesitance.

"How are you feeling?" Phil asks. Techno grunts, seating himself at the counter. Phil tries not to let his surprise slip into his expression. Techno has never  sat down  for a meal before.

"I was thinking..." Phil started, moving to sit across from Techno, leaving a few stools between them. "That you've got things I'm not really qualified to handle, you know?"

Techno glances at him.

"I"m not a professional or anything. So I... set up a therapist for you. I think it'd be good. What do... what do you think?"

"That's fine," Techno says gruffly, spooning a chunk of hashbrowns into his mouth.

"Okay, okay... cool." Phil takes a bit of his own. "You have an appointment tomorrow at five. You don't have to worry about doing anything, I'll drive, and you can just... do what you always do."

Techno doesn't respond. Phil takes that as his cue that the conversation is over and eats his breakfast. Techno put his plate in the sink when he'd done and disappears into the house without a sound. As Phil gets to work, he hears the shower turn on and smiles to himself.

The next day Phil drives Techno. He turns on his audiobook, more for Techno than himself, and focuses on the directions his phone GPS spouts out occasionally. Before long, only a few chapters of the book, they arrive, and Phil hops out of the car. Techno follows behind; hands shoved into the pockets of the jacket Phil had gifted him and keeps his head down.

Phil walks in, talks to a few people at the front desk, and then waits. Techno stands nearby until he's called, and then Phil leaves to wait in the car.

Techno... does not like it here. The lights are weird, and the one in the far right of the room makes a grating humming noise that makes Techno want to rip his hair out. He sits across from a  stranger  who he barely knows as they try to get him to spill his guts out. He doesn't  want  to talk about the shit he's lived through. He has no reason.

Soon, Phil will get too tired or fed up with Techno's behavior, and he'll have to leave again. That's what always happens. Techno is sick of it.

Every gentle prod, every vaguely personal question grates more and more on Techno's nerves. He doesn't budge for the entire hour, resisting the need to slam doors behind him. He gets in Phil's car, hoping he looks angry enough to stop Phil from asking questions. He  hates  how nice Phil is. Nice houses always make the next shitty one hurt more.

Thankfully, Phil doesn't ask. He just turns on his audiobook and drives back to the house. The drive back helps Techno calm down a little. The cold glass gainst his cheek feels nice, and the book helps his mind drift, but he's still pissed when they arrive. He brustled past Phil, avoiding the hand he'd try to put on Techno's arm, and stormed into the room he's hulled up in. This time he lets the door slam, hands flying to his hair and pulling painfully.

He growls, shucking off the unbearably soft and warm jacket Phil gave him, throwing it across the room. Why can't he just get passed along already?

Phil thinks he may have... made a mistake.

Three hours ago, Techno slammed his door and hadn't emerged since. He looked fairly upset after therapy, and Phil  wanted  to ask, he wanted to talk and  understand , but he doesn't think Techno would've taken kindly to any sort of questions.

Maybe he just had a bit of a rough time and needed some space? Phil  knew  the kid needed therapy; he knew it from the start, but... maybe he was just tired? Phil chewed on his lip nervously, cringing when he drew blood. Did he do something wrong?

Techno didn't even emerge for food, and Phil fell back into the shakily familiar routine of leaving food outside Techno's door. It felt odd, and something tasted bitter in the back of Phil's throat. He missed the week before where Techno would join him for food. When he came back an hour later, the plate was still there, food untouched.

Phil didn't sleep very well that night. Neither did Techno.

Phil had taken Techno to a total of two more therapy sessions over the course of the next three weeks before he couldn't stand the way Techno would withdraw. He didn't schedule any more sessions and waited until Techno slowly started allowing himself around Phil more. They were eating next to each other, heavy silence in the air when Phil finally decided to ask.

"You're not... you didn't like therapy very much, did you?"

Techno stops eating, nearly freezing up. "I don't think therapy is something that's supposed to be fun."

"That's not what I..." Phil sighs lightly, reorganizing his thoughts. "Do you want to keep going?"

"No," Techno says quickly. It was the surest, straight to the point thing Techno had said since arriving almost three months ago. Phil nods.

"We'll try again some other time, then."

Techno looks skeptical but nods.

There's never another time , Techno thinks bitterly to himself, but he doesn't vocalize it.

The way Phil's expression softens, though, to something vaguely sad but still determined... it makes Techno question things. He isn't sure if he's supposed to hate that yet.

That night, after much internal debating, he helped Phil with the dishes instead of hiding away like he usually does. Techno asks Phil about the beginning chapters of the audiobook he'd always turn on in the car, and Phil offered to let them start over from the beginning. Techno agrees.

--

Four months. Techno had another nightmare, but he wasn't ready to go back to sleep yet. His mind was racing, thoughts bleeding together and moving on before Techno could even begin to understand them.

Phil sat across from him on his bed. He was leaning over patiently, hands hovering, not entirely sure what to do yet.

"Do you... want me to leave?" Phil asked.

"No!" Techno tries not to sound panicked but fails miserably. As much as he hates it, Phil has been one of the only consistent things he's had in his life recently. He's a bright, grounding thing that Techno is clinging to right now.

Phil softens. "I have an idea. Come on, come with me, mate."

Phil gets up, grabbing Techno's jacket from off the floor and disappearing out the door. What?

Shakily, Techno gets up, cautiously following Phil down the stairs. This is it, isn't it? Phil is finally... Techno finds himself saying goodbye to the things in the house. His heart only sinks further when Phil holds the front door open for him, keys in hand.

Together they walk out to the car. Phil unlocks the door, and they both pile in, the cool night air pricking at Techno's skin. Phil hands over the jacket; Techno can't bring himself to put it on, but it's a nice sentiment. His hands dig into his pants, soft and fluffy and brand new. Phil turns on the car. Amongst the silence, a soft British voice fills the car, and Techno quickly realizes it was from the audiobook he'd been listening to.

Phil leans over, fiddling with the air conditioning, turning it on, and putting it on a low setting as the air warms up. He doesn't move to take the car out of park, doesn't back up, or tell Techno it's time to go, just... lays back. Listens.

When Phil opens his eyes, he's greeted by Techno starting at him with a mix of shock and wonderment in his eyes. Phil smiles and laughs, turning up the volume.

"Better?" He asks.

Techno blinks, takes a second to sort himself, and melts into his seat. "Yeah," he says. After a moment, he puts his jacket on, and Phil sighs contently.

Its... the first time they've felt comfortable in each other's presence. There's always been an underlying feeling of distrust, wariness, and stress that constantly plagued their interactions, but... now? Now they lay next to each other, eyes closed, letting the story playing from the car speakers was over them like a wave. After trading quiet words, Phil begins driving around the neighborhood, the hum of the vehicle seeping into Techno's bones.

"Hey, I'm... I'm sorry about the whole therapy thing," Phil says eventually. He glances over to Techno, who is looking at him, looking like a much softer version of himself. The twitch in his eye from stress is gone, and now... now he just looks tired. Like a kid. Healed lips and faded bruises leaving his face as though it was never touched in the first place.

"I should've talked with you first. It was unfair of me to put you in that situation."

"It's... fine," Techno says. Unspoken frustrations and rage and tears and so much more bubble in the little silence between his words. It's not fine; Phil knows that, and so does Techno, but for tonight they'll pretend like it is. It makes the weight in their chests feel less heavy. Easier to manage.

"I just... I don't want to get started on things when I know I'm just going to be gone in, like, a week, you know?"

Something about that struck Phil. "Technoblade... Look, I--Techno, I care about you. I want to... I want to give you a good time here, okay? An easy time. I'm not just... I'm not going to give up on you."

Techno hums. "That's what they all say."

That's true; that empty lie has been thrown at Techno more times than he can count. But it's been a long time since Techno has stayed with the same person for more than two months. It's been what, three years? That's not very long in the grand scheme of things, but it's been the time Techno has hated the most.

Phil's chest ached. He sighed, turning his attention back to the road, turning smoothly to make another loop around the neighborhood. "Do you wanna get some ice cream?"

"...yeah."

--

Phil loved Techno. He knew that much now, sitting in the principal's office while Techno sits outside. He had been called in because Techno had been causing problems, apparently, and Phil was ready to defend that kid tooth and nail.

"He doesn't listen," the principal said.

"He just doesn't like adults-"

"Our entire faculty is made up of adults!" Phil's eye twitches. "He disrupts class, doesn't pay attention, his grades are slipping--"

"I've been trying to get him a tutor-"

"Not soon enough, Mr. Watson! Your child is a hindrance to our learning environment!"

Oh.  Oh . "So what? What accommodations have you made for Techno?" Phil asks, leaning forward. At this, the principal stiffens. "You really think a kid passed around between shitty person to shitty person all his life is really going to listen to whatever the fuck some random adult who  says they have authority  has to say? You haven't tried to give him private lessons or move his seating in the class, or even sat down to get to know him as a person?"

"He's not on any sort of plan--"

"He doesn't need to be on a fucking plan! These are no brainer; think about this on day one, sort of shit!" Phil flops back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The principal tries to stutter out some sort of excuse, but Phil isn't having it. He growls to himself, hoisting himself out of his chair and sighing. "You'll be hearing from me at a later date," he says and then leaves.

Techno is sulking in his hair when Phil emerges. His attention snaps up, the curtain of hair he'd been hiding behind falling away. The tension building in Phil's shoulders releases almost immediately. "Come on, Techno. We're leaving."

Techno nods and skitters behind him.

In the car, the airconditioning is turned on, and the audiobook plays quietly in the background. Neither of them are calm enough to listen, so Phil turns it off. Techno wrings his hands together, rubbing the skin anxiously and throwing glances at Phil.

"I'm not mad," Phil says. It's a lie, and a clear one, so he explains more quickly. "At you. I'm not mad at you. I fucking  hate  public schools. I'm pulling you out, Techno; we'll find someplace better than this shit hole."

Techno nods shakily. After that, he busies himself by looking out his window. 

Phil and Techno eat dinner together. It was becoming much more common of a thing recently, and it never failed to warm Phil's heart. Techno still looked anxious, picking at loose strings on his shirt, and it took several conversations of Phil insisting he wasn't mad with Techno for him to calm down enough to finish his food.

"So... why haven't you been paying attention in class, though?" Phil asks. "I'm not mad. I just want to know."

Techno shrugs half-heartedly. "I don't know... I can't focus very well, and I can't really read the board. I just... can't follow along."

"Wait, you can't read the board?"

"Yeah, it's like... all blurry. I can't read it from my seat."

"And you sit in the back of the class, right?"

"Yeah."

The cogs slowly turn in Phil's head. "Techno, have you... ever gotten your eyes checked?"

"No?"

"You might need glasses, mate."

"...huh?"

"Your visions all blurry, right? That's not normal!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know that?"

Two days later, they find themselves in an office, getting Techno's eyes examined. The whole process makes Techno anxious; he shies away from strangers' hands and cringes visibly with they touch his face. His fingers dig into the fabric of his clothes, and his answers to questions are clipped.

Knowing that this issue is one that can be solved, though... It quells some of the worries in Techno's chest. His vision had always frustrated him, and he thought he would have to deal with it his whole life, but Phil was changing that. It was nice.

After getting Techno's prescription and making orders, Phil lets them sit in the parking lot for a few chapters before driving back home.

--

Phil rolled a strand of hair between his fingers and cringed. His hair had gotten far too long over the course of the year. He'd just kept pushing off booking an appointment, and now he had to deal with hair that tickled his neck and got in his way all the time. He sighed. Now was as good as a time as ever, he guesses.

Across from Phil, Techno sat in the living room, busying himself with some sort of book. He'd taken up reading as a hobby as soon as his glasses arrived, which relived Phil. Things had been going well with his tutor, from what Phil could tell, after the first tense weeks. The gaps in his education were quickly closing. Techno was bright, and it delighted Phil to see him come around into something he was comfortable with.

It'd been nearly six months since Phil took in Techno. Compared to how it was before, things were going great. Techno was finally,  finally  comfortable enough to be around Phil casually. The swell of pride that filled Phil's chest every time Techno seated himself in the same room as him was something he doesn't think he could ever let go of. Techno still shied away from any sort of touch Phil may offer and stashed food, but Phil thinks those are things that won't be going away for a long time. Phil woke up to screaming less and less, and Techno looked like a... much healthier version of himself.

"Hey, Techno?" Phil called. Techno glanced up silently. "I'm gonna book a haircut for myself. Do you want one?"

Something in Techno dimmed at the offer. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair, eyebrows furrowing and thinking back in thing Phill will never know. He glanced between Phil and his hands, weighing the price of the offer. "Sure," he says eventually. He still looks scared out of his mind.

Phil hums. Something in him aches, but he makes an appointment for Techno anyway.

Phil tries not to hover. His newly cut hair feels wonderfully light, but he doesn't let himself bask in the feeling for long. Techno shuffles over to the hairdresser, sitting down with wide eyes and restless hands.

"What would you like?" The woman asks, smiling kindly and lightly running her fingers through Techno's hair. For the first time, Techno looks over to Phil for help.

"Uh, just evening things out," Phil says, catching that woman's attention. "It was cut pretty jaggedly before. Uh, just even thing out and cut off the unhealthy stuff."

"For sure," the woman says and gets to work.

Techno isn't one for conversation on a good day. Right now, he looks borderline terrified, so Phil quickly takes up the role for him. He keeps a close eye on Techno, though, trying to gauge if things get to be too much. He doesn't know what kind of relationship Techno has with his hair, but it doesn't seem to be anything good. Soon enough, though, things are over.

"Alright!" the hairdresser smiles, fluffing Techno's hair a little. "Do you like it?"

Techno startles out of the little trance he was in. It was... over? He glances up, seeing himself, and sure enough, the woman standing behind him had put down her tools and was staring expectantly. Nervously, Techno reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, considerably shorter now but completely smooth. His fingers don't catch on any jagged edges or tangles like they used to.

"Yeah," he says. "It's good."

Techno is soon allowed to leave, and he hides back over by Phil. Conversations happen that Techno doesn't try to catch, and then he and Phil leave the shop.

"You did good," Phil smiles, reaching a cautious hand to Techno's back. Techno doesn't pull away, so Phil rests his hand there, breathing a sigh of relief when Techno accepts the touch. "I'm proud of you. I could tell that was tough. Good job."

Something in Techno's chest warms.

--

Turns out Techno is quite the overachiever. He works hard in school, and Phil is pleased to see his grades drastically improving from Techno's previous school experience. That's why Phil felt a little betrayed by the world when he got a call concerning Techno's behavior in class.

Phil arrived one weekend, anxiety bleeding into his fingers as he tapped on his arm. He so desperately wanted good things for Techno. Phil sat down, concern filling his face at the slightly somber look of Techno's new principal.

"You said Techno was having some problems?" Phil asks.

The principal sighs lightly, leaning forward. "Yes... academically, he's doing excellent. Our counselor has seen drastic improvements in his report card."

"Then what's going on?"

"Mr. Watson, your son is incredibly... aggressive with other students." The principal sighs and she looks pained to share this news with Phil. "We've gotten calls from concerned parents regreding things he's said and done. He's... incredibly possessive over his items, we've found. There was an instance where he threatened physical harm over a math notebook."

Phil knows why; he knows what this all stems from, but it doesn't hurt any less to hear. As much as he wants to excuse all of these actions away, he knows he can't. "Physical harm?"

"Yes." The principal takes a second, glancing down at a few of her papers. "Mr. Watson, people are worried. Technoblade shows promise, but if this behavior continues, we  will  have to take action. That could leave a serious mark on his records. We don't want this, truly."

Phil sighs, leaning back in his chair. He had hoped things would have smoothed out over the previous few months, but he knows that was wishful thinking. "Okay... Okay, I'll... I'll talk to him. See what's up. I'll try to keep any of that from happening."

The principal nods. "Thank you."

"Was there... anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"Technoblde has a late library book," she adds lightly. "The Story of Theseus. See if he can get it back?"

"Uh, yes. Yeah," Phil chuckles. "I can get on that."

--

Logically, because things were going well, Phil should have expected something to go wrong. Techno showing up one day, bloodied and bruised, and not one of those things.

Phil had caught a mere  glimpse  at Techno in the kitchen before panic took over his mind. "Techno! Oh my god, what happened!?"

"I hardly see how that's relevant," Techno says, shying away from Phil's hands. Despite his protests, Phil anxiously fawns over him, tilting his head and trying to assess the damage. A small pool of guilt forms in Techno's stomach when he notices Phil's hands are shaking. Techno's eye is already bruising, and there's blood pouring out from his mouth, and his glasses are fucking gone--

"Oh my fucking god," Phil breathes, ripping his hands away and running them through his hair. "Get in the car; I'm taking you to the hospital or fucking--something. Where's my phone?"

Techno goes out to the car and waits patiently. He tounges at the cut in his lip, spilling blood into his mouth. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten into a fight, and he highly doubts it would be the last. This was the first time in a while, however, that someone cared enough to take care of him afterward.

Phil emerges from the house moments later, shoving his phone in his pocket and making an attempt at not slamming the door. He fails, and Techno flinches, and they don't talk about it.

The doctor says Techno will be fine with plenty of rest. Some things are patched up; others are left alone. He prescribes some antibiotics, gives Phil specifics on what kind of resting Techno should be doing, and sends them on their way. The entire time Techno stares impassively at the wall, and the anxiety in Phil's chest grows.

They walk out to the car. It's silent, aside from Techno's breathing. They sit for a long time. Phil does not turn on any audiobooks. Phil is... upset.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened, Techno?" Phil asks gently, turning to face Techno.

"No."

"I wasn't asking."

"And the answers still no."

"Wh-is this about school?" Phil asks. For  so long , he's tried not to push, but right now, at this moment, he needs to know what kind of situation he needs to be handling. He needs to know how he can help. "Techno, this is be something permanent on your record-"

"It didn't happen at school," Techno bristles, tucking himself away. "Stop worrying, okay?"

"I will worry! I'm worried about your future, Techno!"

"It's not like I have much of one," Techno scoffs.

"What? Of course, you do. You're smart, and you've been working so hard-"

"And?" Techno snaps. " All  of that is going to go away as soon as you get tired of putting up with my shit."

"Wh--Techno, you're my  son !"

Techno darkens. "No, I'm  not ."

Silence cute between them like a knife.

Phil doesn't know why that  hurt  so much. It makes him physically move back in his seat. A hint of regret flashes in Techno's eyes, but his glare holds firm, and Phil is just... shocked.

Phil nods, primarily to himself, turning on the car and backing out of his parking spot. Techno tucks himself against the door, suppressing a hiss of pain, and the drive is mute. Briefly, Phil considers turning on the radio, music,  anything  to drown out the silence, but it doesn't feel right. So they sit, and feelings they never knew were there fester in each other's chests.

For the first time in several months, Techno hides away again. The house feels sickenly empty without him taking up space on the counter, tucked into the corner of the couch, or sitting with his back against a wall. The house feels the same way it does when there are no kids there at all. That worries Phil.

He wonders where he went wrong. He wonders when he began quietly referring to Techno as his son. He wonders when he began envisioning a future for Techno that  he  was a part of.

Phil has fostered and loved children before, but never like this.

Everything in Techno's body  aches . The pain and anger, and  denial  so fierce it gives him a headache, all mix together and drag his mind into the dirt. He's exhausted by the time he manages to crawl onto his bed.

Phil's words ring in his head. Words he's sure will soon be irrelevant and untrue sooner than he can process, but he lets himself cling to them anyway. He clutches to his pillow, fluffy and scented of lavender, and lets himself cry.

It was nearly a week before they talked about it. Phil was up late working, exhausted in more ways than one. After hearing a few creaky steps on the stairs, he glances over to see Techno. He's gripping onto the railing; jacket pulled tight around his body over his pajamas. He looks vulnerable in a way Phil isn't used to yet. He lets his fingers slow to a stop on his keyboard, turning his body to face Techno.

"Hey, mate," he says. "Can't sleep?"

"No," Techno says, taking an anxious step forward. He's still gripping the railing like a lifeline. "Actually, I... I wanted to talk to you. About something."

Oh. Phil sags with exhaustion the slightest bit, grabbing his coffee and moving into the living room.

"Come sit with me," he says, and Techno hesitantly follows.

They sit on opposite sides of the living room couch. Light spills in from the kitchen, illuminating the room just enough for Phil to make out the details on Techno's face. Phil chooses to ignore how the shadows on Techno's face make him look like the boy he was months ago, dropped on Phil's doorstep. 

"You said you wanted to talk?" A small moment of silence, then Techno nods. "What would you like to talk about?"

"I... I don't know," Techno says.

Phil hums, sipping on his coffee. "Let's start simple then, alright? I'm assuming this is about... last week, so, you got in a fight?"

Techno nods.

"And I'm also going to assume you still don't want to tell me about it?"

Techno nods again, and Phil sighs.

"Alright... Was it worth it?"

"...no."

"Will you get into more fights in the future?"

"Yes."

"Jesus," Phil breathes. "Just try not to get caught, okay? Or, like, do it at school. Don't get yourself into trouble."

"Yeah," Techno says quickly. "For my future."

A stale silence falls between them.

"Phil? Did you mean... what you said?"

Phil takes a moment to think to himself, gulping down his coffee. "Yes," he says, unsure of what to make of the way Techno's body tenses. "Look, Techno, I should've... I should've kept my views to myself. That wasn't the time for what I said, but... at the very least, know that I care  deeply  about you. I'd fight to give you a good life. To make sure you're properly taken care of and fed and loved."

"...you would?"

"Tooth and nail," Phil confirms. "You have no idea how many teachers who think they know better I've had to scare away."

Techno lets himself chuckle at that, and so does Phil.

"I'm sorry," Techno says. Small and meek and quiet.

"Why're you sorry, mate?"

"I've caused so many problems-" Phil's heart breaks at the same time as Techno's voice.

"Techno, look at me." Phil tilts his kid's face up towards him, smiling kindly. "Healing is messy business, Techno. You're thirteen fucking years old, kiddo; you're supposed to be causing problems."

Techno laughs wetly, pressing his cheek into Phil's palm. Phil chuckles warmly, basking in the attention he's allowed to give. Hesitantly, Techno lets his jacket fall looser around his body, scooting forward until his body is pressed into Phil's side. Phil huffs out a small, breathy laugh, resting his arm over Techno's body. He's stiff, but he feels so  right  cuddled into Phil.

"You look really tired," Techno mutters.

"Work called to me," Phil chuckled. Despite his kind smile and the caffeine coursing through him, he feels himself melting into the couch. No. Stop that. Let him savor this moment.

"You should go to sleep," Techno suggests. His voice is firm, obviously copying the same voice Phil would use if their situations were fliped.

"No, I wanna savor this moment."

"The moment will still be here in the morning, Phil."

"No. Stop that. You're not supposed to be good with words," Phil chuckled. He blamed all those damn mythoi.

Somehow , Techno convinces Phil into bed, and he rests easy for the first time in a while.

-- (CW: Techno gets very stressed and goes non-verbal)

Techno has been acting a little... off recently. He hasn't been eating as much, sleeping a lot more than usual, and was slow to get around to things. All of that was fine; in theory, Phil had done enough research to know what a depressive episode looks like, but... The one thing that worries Phil is how Techno hasn't spoken a word in over a week.

Not in his usual way, where he prefers to stay quiet and answer with gestures or nods. He'd still talk with Phil casually, and they'd have several conversations about whatever. Now Techno was just silent, even if he looked like he wanted to say something. It made something in Phil ache.

Techno had come downstairs, exhausted despite all of the sleep he's been getting. Phil has been encouraging him to do activities with him, like puzzles or video games, and sometimes Techno agrees. Now is not one of those times.

Techno drops his head on Phil's shoulder, taking a deep breath, before starting to cry.

"Oh, hey, Techno?" Phil drops to one knee, taking Techno's face in his hand. "What's wrong?"

Techno shakes his head, huffing out several shaky breaths. Worry grows in Phil's stomach.

"Okay, okay, uh--" Techno was obviously overwhelmed by whatever was bothering him. Quickly, Phil shuffled to turn off the lights, turning his attention back to Techno. "Better?"

Techno nods.

Okay. Good. Techno is still crying, and Phil wipes away some of the tears. "Can you tell me what's upsetting you?"

Techno shakes his head roughly, choking out a stressed sound.

"Hey, hey, no, that's okay," Phil quickly says, brushing away some of Techno's hair. His brain wracks for a solution. "Techno? Can I have your hand?"

Shakily, Techno puts his hand on Phil's outstretched palm.

"Good, okay." Phil squeezes Techno's hand quickly. "Can you tap my palm? One tap for ' this is a culmination of things that have been stressing me out ,' and two for ' this is something new I don't know how to handle .'"

Techno thinks for a second, pressing a shaky tap to Phil's palm. Okay. It works.

"Alright, good, thank you. Do you want to handle these things right now? One for yes, two for no."

Two taps.

"Are you just overwhelmed...?"

One tap. Phil sighs. Okay. This'll be okay.

"Alright, Techno," Phil says, standing up and running his fingers through Techno's hair. "We can just hang out and watching something if you want. I'll make you something warm. Hot-chocolate sound good?"

Techno nods, already beginning his journey to the living room. Phil grabs two mugs, quickly making hot-chocolate and shuffling over to where Techno had tucked himself into the corner of the couch. Phil hands off the cooling mug, warning Techno about it being hot and turns on some obscure nature documentaries they'd gotten into recently.

Eventually, the stuttering breaths stop forming in Techno's chest, and he quietly begins sipping on the warm drink in his hands. He hums contently, grabbing blankets around him until he and Phil are cocooned under a mountain of blankets.

A few days later, when Techno starts talking again, he tells Phil how he just gets like  that  sometimes. Usually, when something overwhelms him, or he's put in uncomfortable situations. Phil listens intently, nodding along when it seems appropriate. He didn't ask many questions, these are things he can look up later, but he does establish a minor system with Techno.

If he's feeling bad and doesn't want to speak, he can just give Phil some taps. One for "I'm feeling okay now," two for "I'm still feeling really bad," and three for "I feel okay, but I'm still overwhelmed." Techno agrees, and they'll add more if the situation ever calls for it. It makes both of them feel better.

"I... really liked the hot-chocolate," Techno confesses.

Phil wheezes out a small laugh. "Yeah?"

"It tasted good," Techno continues. "It was, I don't know, calming? I liked it."

"Okay," Phil breathes, leaning back on the couch as the documentary drones on. "I'll make it for you when you're sad; how about that?"

"Works for me."

--

It had been over a year since Phil took Techno in. Now, he sits in his bed and his room, dressed in his jacket and his pants and his clothes. These things are his.

Phil took him out shopping. They bought things for Techno's room. A shiny new backpack. Pencil holders and shelves for his books. These things are his, and he lives here. This is his room, in something he grew to think of as his house. Techno has never had many things, moving around from place to place. He always felt like he had less and less after every house he stays in, but now, he's never had so many things. It's nice to know that something is  yours . That it won't disappear when Techno goes to sleep.

All and all... things have been going pretty okay. Techno pulls his jacket tight around himself. He moves downstairs, and his school is on break, so Phil is there, and the sun is up, and food is waiting for him. Techno never has to worry about things like that with Phil, even though every fiber of his being tells him that he should.

"Heya, mate," Phil says, turning and smiling at Techno. Techno gives a small smile himself, hopping up onto a stool.

They talk casually. Phil tells him about work, and in turn, Techno talks about some of his recent passion research projects. Agriculture is incredibly interesting, Phil. Eventually, though, they run out of things to talk about. Techno had been thinking about... things, and he figures now is as good a time as any.

"Hey, Phil?" He asks, and Phil hums and looks at him. "Do you remember when... when I told you that I didn't want to go to therapy anymore? And-and you said some other time? I didn't--I didn't think that there was going to be some other time, but this is the longest I've stayed anywhere ever and--"

Techno trails off, unsure of how to phrase his words.

"Hold on, mate. You don't have to explain yourself," Phil chuckles. "But I hear you. You... you're feeling okay enough?"

"Yeah, I... I think so."

Therapy is scary. The idea in itself is terrifying. Techno keeps himself closely guarded; most of his fourteen years of life have not been kind, and he's not keen on letting people in on that fact. But trying... sounds like a good thing. No matter how much it scared Techno.

Phil finds a nice woman. She specializes in trauma and mental illness. She's in a new office with a lovely little rock garden in the front. She speaks gently and doesn't have any lights that make Techno grit his teeth, and she keeps a bowl of fidget toys on the table that Techno can take whenever.

Her seats are comfortable, and while Techno doesn't feel like spilling all of his darkest secrets yet, he talks about Phil and answers her questions. The hour feels like an eternity and a blink of an eye at the same time, and before Techno knows, he's shuffling back outside to get into Phil's car.

"How'd it go?" Phil asks, apparent anxiety on the tip of his tongue.

"It wasn't horrible."

Techno keeps going. Phil makes him hot-chocolate. Things get... better.

--

Techno had gotten examinations, diagnoses, and prescriptions. ADHD, depression, anxiety, PTSD, the kid was a whole pile of things. Phil loved him with his entire heart.

It was a quiet night between the two of them, watching movies neither of them cared about and talking. Techno was working on making his first yarn bracelet, a hobby his therapist had recommended. It was repetitive and creative, and Techno seemed to be enjoying it so far.

"Techno, you know I care about you, right? Do you... do you enjoy it here?" Phil suddenly asks.

"'Course," Techno replies, tightening one of the strings around his tool.

"Good, good... I was just wondering, Techno, if you'd... like to stay?"

Techno freezes. He looks up at Phil, who is sitting next to him, looking nervous but oh so hopeful.

"Like, forever?" Phil nods. "You want to adopt me?"

"Yeah," Phil smiles, and his words are watered down by his tears. He laughs to himself, this is dumb and stupid, but Techno mirrors him with a laugh of his own.

The tears shed that night were mutual, full of love and relief. Techno gets a hug, and he let himself remember that sometimes touch is okay and something he can feel safe in.

--

A year and a half go by. The house settles down once again. Phil learns a concerning amount of first aid, patching up split lips and keeping the gauze always in stock. Plenty of pastries are made, a result of Phil's stress baking. He teaches Techno how to make hashbrowns, and Techno shows him how to make his favorite baked potato.

Prescriptions are adjusted, therapy is scheduled, and Phil cuddles his son when he wakes up screaming and crying. Techno lets himself get used to being touched and hones his skills in bracelet making. He doesn't get very good very fast, but Phil still treasures any little gifts Techno gives him (Techno will never admit this, but sometimes he purposefully gives Phil bad bracelets just to see what he'll do). He lost one once and spent three hours looking until Techno found it in his laundry.

Things get quiet. Comfortable in a way it's never been before. Techno asks Phil about his life before him, and Phil tells him anything from childhood stories to the kids he used to foster. Quietly, Techno asks him if he'd ever want to start fostering kids again.

"I dunno, mate," Phil says. "Not for a while. You're already quite the handful."

Techno laughs. He tells Phil that if he ever wanted to start again, since it made him so happy, Techno would find ways to deal with it. Phil chuckles and changes the subject, but he keeps Techno's words in his mind.

Fostering had made him happy. He isn't sure if it'd be the same now that he has Techno, a son of his own, but sometimes he finds himself thinking about all of the kids out there just like his son. The kids who got screwed over and can't pull themselves out of the ditch until someone helps.

But he doesn't linger. He hugs Techno and puts him to bed, and presses a kiss to his forehead. He loves his son, and he'll continue to do that for as long as he can.

Two years pass by. Techno is fifteen now and making big plans for himself in high school. He's looking towards a future he used to think he would never have. Phil couldn't be prouder of how far he's come. There's a lot more that needs to be done, and they're all things that will happen when the time comes.

The house has a new normal, full of appointments and missing glasses and baked potatoes. Phil loves it, but he isn't sure if he's ready to settle into it just yet. After a quiet conversation with Techno over hot-chocolate and movies, he calls around and announces he's open to fostering again.