Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

On that cold, misty autumn morning, Techno wakes up to a sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

And there were times, when that would actually be pretty normal.

Those slow, hot summer days, when Phil slept in a little longer than usual and Wilbur quietly slipped out of their bedroom into the kitchen, only to end up with a bag of flour on his head and a few pans landing on the floor.

And Phil would only sigh, rubbing his tired eyes, ruffling his son's (still dirty) hair, taking over (that apparently exceptionally difficult) task of preparing breakfast.

On days like that, Techno would simply roll over, only pulling his quilt tighter around himself.

This day, apparently, is not one of them.

Because when Techno turns around, his brother is still there, asleep in his bead and quietly snoring.

He frowns, as he pushes himself up on slightly unsteady forearms, his ears twitching.

Door closing. Familiar footsteps. Creaking sounds of their couch.

Rubbing his eyes and looking at Wilbur one last time, Techno slowly slips from under the sheets, putting his bare feet on the floor.

Which he regrets immediately, only now realizing how cold their room is. The sun is still covered by clouds and fog, and the brick under its covers has already gone cold.

He shivers, as he rubs his forearms, but stands firm on his feet, quietly slipping out of the room.

The corridor is almost completely dark; the only window at the very end is almost completely covered by thick branches of an old oak, the leaves already turning a strong, orange color.

Silently moving across the carpet and then down the cold stairs, he jumps two steps at a time, to finally find himself downstairs, ears rising high again, peeking out from behind the wall.

The living room is a bit brighter. The candle, that someone forgot to put out last night illuminates the semidarkness, even if most of it has already melted the boards of the table.

But that's not what catches Techno's attention. Nor the fact that Wilbur clearly has fallen short on yesterday's promise, leaving their toys still scattered across the carpet. Or even the familiar, sweet smell of warm milk and honey in the air.

The first thing he notices, is his father.

Sitting on the couch, fingers of one hand clenched in his own hair, holding the edge of a basket on his lap with the other.

“Dad?”

Phil jerks his head up, staring at him as if only now realizing he's there.

“Oh, Techno,” he clears his throat, when his voice comes out a little hoarse, “I thought you were asleep.”

Techno stands on his toes, fingers clasping on his shirt, instinctively pulling it down.

“I heard something.”

Phil's gaze wanders back, and Techno only now notices the mug, lying by the front door and the hot liquid still pouring out of it, staining the floor.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I...” He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face

Techno shifts from foot to foot, wondering if it's the right time to remind him, how hungry six-year-olds can be in the morning (especially when someone wakes them up by throwing mugs across the floor), when suddenly his ears twitch, shifting towards the new sound.

Something between a soft squeal and a yawn, the noise reminds Techno of the cat, living in the basement of a nearby bakery, when someone dares to wake him up from his afternoon nap.

Techno's eyes widen, staring at his father's lap.

“You bought us a cat?” he asks, maybe a bit naively, but feeling a growing excitement

Phil, who's looking down at the basket with a mixture of helplessness and exhaustion, that's definitely not reserved for little kittens, grimaces even more and sighs. But he gestures for him to come closer.

Quickly moving across the living room, wrapping his arms around his father's forearms and standing on his tiptoes, Techno peers inside the basket.

The things inside is definitely not a cat.

Between the old, slightly torn pieces of fabric, there's a baby. Small and frail, a few months old at most, but except for a pair of fluffy ears, sticking out of thin, pale hair - definitely devoid of any feline features.

Techno instantly feels all of his excitement disappear.

“That's not a cat.”

“No,” Phil sighs for a second time, as if he also was disappointed, that the contents of the basket still hasn't changed in the last few seconds.

The baby rubs its face with a small hand, then looks straight at Techno with large, bright eyes.

“It's a boy,” Phil adds, in a slightly different tone.

Techno frowns.

The boy freezes, still staring at Techno. Then suddenly, makes a loud, piercing screeching sound.

“Oh no, no, no...”

Phil quickly sets the basket on the ground, picking up the crying baby, leaning it against his shoulder.

Techno instinctively pulls away, pressing his ears flat against his head.

“Shhh... It's okay.”

Eventually, the baby calms down, lulled by Phil's slow movement, wrapping his little arms around his neck and closing his eyes.

Soon after, Wilbur appears in the living room, one hand squeezing an arm of a plush toy, the other rubbing his eyes.

But he forgets about sleep almost immediately, sitting next to their father on the couch, staring at the child he's holding with wide eyes.

Techno moves to sit next to him, pulling him closer by the shoulder and whispering in a low voice:

“I thought dad bought us a cat.”

Wilbur looks at the baby, still resting in their father's arms (who is now pacing around the room a little nervously, his dark feathers fluffed up).

“I like dogs better.”

Techno grimaces.

“Dogs smell.”

Wilbur puffs his cheeks; the light from the candle reflect off the scales on his face.

“They don't!”

“They do-”

“Boys!”

Techno closes his mouth, but Wilbur manages to throw in another 'they don't' through gritted teeth.

“He's not a pet” adds Phil, looking down at the baby leaning against his chest.

The boy is now closing his lips around his own finger, looking around the room with curious eyes, lazily waving his fluffy, stripy tail.

“Yeah, and that's the problem,” Techno remarks, but then pauses again, seeing his father's stern expression.

“Where did you find him?”

Wilbur asks, the first actually important question.

Phil inhales sharply, looking at the basket abandoned on the floor.

“Someone...” he pauses for a moment, as if looking for the right words. “Someone left him on our doorstep.”

“Oh.” Wilbur tilts his head slightly, his legs dangling from the edge of the couch. “Why?”

“I don't know. People...” he wrinkles his nose a little, a rare habit that both his sons have somehow picked up from him. “Sometimes people do that, when they can't look after the baby. Usually they leave a note or something, but... There was only this.”

He takes a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. Techno reaches out for his hand, but before he can grab it, Wilbur, throwing his entire weight onto his back, grabs the note before him.

“I'll read it!” he announces, sitting comfortably on the couch, clearly delighted to show off his skills.

Although, 'still' might be a bit of an exaggeration, because he stares at the page for a moment, reading the letters over silently, still combining the syllables with obvious difficulty.

“His... name...” he manages, finally. “His name is. T... Th...”

“Theseus,” Phil finishes for him, voice patient and warm.

“That's a stupid name,” Techno says immediately, sinking down on the couch.

Wilbur nods.

“Stupid and difficult. But that's fine, we can come up with something better. Like...”

“Kraken,” Techno proposes eagerly.

“Danger,” Wilbur quickly joins in.

“Typhoon!”

“T–Rex!”

“Big T?”

Wilbur stares at the ceiling for a moment, scratching his chin. He looks at the baby again, as if looking for some sort of inspiration.

Suddenly, he gasps, lips stretched into a smile.

“Oh, I know! Tommy!”

Techno frowns.

“We can't name him after the neighbors' dog.”

“What? I thought it was called 'Tony'?”

Techno shrugs.

“Whatever. But!” He raises one finger up, smiling maliciously. “Since you named him, it means that he'll sleep on your side of the room.”

Wilbur gasps, putting one hand to his chest.

“No, he won't!”

“Yes, he will!”

“He won't be sleeping in anyone's room,” Phil interrupts them, ending their discussion.

“He can't sleep outside!” Wilbur protests.

Phil looks out the window, a weird, distant look in his eyes. The fog behind the windows slowly begins to thin out, giving way to the first, real, morning rays of the sun.

“He won't be sleeping here,” he says firmly. “Go get dressed. We're going to find his parents.”

***

They don't find his parents.

Despite having searched all the nearby villages, farms and two windmills, absolutely no one showed any sign of interest in the baby.

Maybe beside the owner of one of the mills, who called him a 'cute monster'. At which Phil gave him a look so murderous, that when the man realized, that he had not one, but two other kids - very fascinated by the mechanisms inside the building - he didn't dare to comment again.

Most people, however, only gave Phil a pitying look, shaking their heads.

Eventually, when Wilbur gets particularly annoying, complaining about everything - from aching feet (even though they didn't walk that much) to him supposed 'headache' - and the air slowly gets colder, Phil sighs.

Directing them towards the familiar bakery on the way to their house, he looks for the last time at the center of the village and the surrounding houses.

And really, they should have expected it.

“If someone left him,” the saleswoman remarks, passing Phil fresh bread across the counter, “they're probably far away by now.”

Phil sighs.

“Yeah, you're right, Puffy. I just...” He looks down at the baby resting on his chest.

'Tommy' has slept throughout everything, curled up under Phil's coat, lulled by the rhythmic movement of their horses. And only now, when the horizon starts turning a warm, orange color, he slowly wakes up, rubbing his tired eyes with his tiny hands.

Techno's just happy, that he's not crying anymore.

“I just don't know... why me?”

Techno grabs his father's sleeve, pulling the fabric down.

Phil mindlessly lowers his hand, passing the bread to his son, and Techno quickly rips it in half, handing the other piece to his brother.

“Probably a coincidence.” The woman shrugs; her gold earrings and bracelets jingle softly. “Or ...!”

She bends down on the counter, a few white curls falling around her face. Her ears twitch slightly and Techno finds himself instinctively doing the same.

“It's destiny,” she says, her voice low, as if revealing a secret.

But she's not looking at Phil anymore, smiling down at Techno and Wilbur.

And although her eyes are friendly and warm, and Techno has met her at least two times before, he instinctively clings to Phil's pants, quickly hiding behind his father's legs.

“Coincidence. I hope. Or 'destiny' really doesn't like me all that much,” Phil mumbles, stroking his son's pink hair with his free hand.

Puffy grunts in understanding as he straightens up and grabs the rag from the table.

“Children, ey? There is always trouble with them, I know something about that.”

Wilbur, who has already finished his half of the bread, gives his brother a look, rolling his eyes.

Puffy goes back to cleaning the tabletop, but Phil is staring at her, eyes widening a little.

“You have kids?”

Puffy nods, but suddenly freezes, looking up at Phil as if she already knows exactly where this conversation is going.

“Listen, maybe you could-”

“Oh no, no. No way.” She tosses the cloth back onto the counter and turns her back to him. “Dream has just started to grow horns, I don't have time for a new baby.”

“Puffy-”

“I'm sorry, Phil,” she says, giving the man an apologetic but firm look.

***

“You said,” Techno reminds him half an hour later. “That they left him because they didn't want him. Even if we found them, they probably wouldn't take him back.”

The sun has already fallen almost completely below the horizon, covering the dark sky with the first traces of stars.

Though their horses slow down overtime, Phil doesn't rush them, staring straight ahead, lost in thoughts.

Now he looks at his son.

“Not: 'didn't want'. 'Couldn't'. At least, I hope so.”

“Doesn't matter.”

Phil sighs, and Techno notices that he's been doing it a lot more than usually.

“Well, if the end result is the same, it doesn't, not really. Although... If they truly didn't want him, they probably wouldn't give him a name.”

Techno wrinkles his nose, staring at the baby wrapped in Phil's cloak.

The child looks back at him, reaching out his tiny hand slightly, although their saddles are at least two meters apart.

“A stupid name.”

Wilbur, who has been yawning ever since they left the village, wrapped his arms around his brother and fell asleep, his cheek pressed against his brother's back - now murmurs something softly.

“Wilbur's right. We already have a new name for him. So it doesn't matter.”

Phil looks down and his face suddenly softens with that strange, familiar expression.

Similar to how he sometimes looks at Wilbur and Techno, when he put them to sleep, pulling the covers almost up to their ears. When he kisses them on the forehead greeting them, saying goodbye, or simply because they're close.

Part of that strange look, full of warmth and something nostalgic, still visible every time one of them called him 'dad'.

“Aw...” he says softly, allowing Tommy to grab one of his fingers with his hand. “You're a special case, aren't you? ”

Tommy yawns, showing off two tiny, pointy teeth.

Chapter Text

Tommy stays with them.

A few years later, their father will look at them with a smile and say, that in his heart he always knew it would be like that.

Not when they returned from the village, with the last rays of the sun falling beneath their horses' hooves.

Not when the hundredth person repeated for the third time that 'no, they don't know who's kid is this'.

Not when Wilbur gave him a new name, accompanied by a single burning candle and a spilled milk on the floor.

But from the very beginning. The moment he saw him on their doorstep, that cold, foggy morning.

The moment he looked at him for the first time with large, pale eyes, Phil knew he already lost. But holding Tommy in his arms, Phil could say with certainty that he definitely felt like a winner.

It's hard to say, that Techno shares those feelings.

In fact, the realization of what it all really meant only sinks in that evening, when Phil finally managed wake up Wilbur, enough so he can help him change and put him to bed.

“It's...” he begins, sinking down on the pillow as Phil lifts one of the corners of his sheets. “He'll be sleeping on Wilbur's side, right? Tommy. Because I don't want him here.”

Phil laughs softly, pulling the sheets up to his neck.

“I'm serious. I'll kick him off. I saw him drooling, I don't want him.”

“He's going to sleep with me, for now,” he calms him down, then looks towards the door, frowning. “I'll have to find the old cradle...”

***

Two months pass, before Phil starts calling Tommy their 'brother'.

Techno doesn't really feel like he has any new siblings.

Because apart from everyone up in the middle of the night, showing off extremely impressive vocal cords, Tommy is... boring.

He spends most of the time in sleeping or glued to Phil's side, watching them play and run around from a distance. He seems much more interested in Wilbur's old rattles (although he clearly lacks the same musical talent) than any of Techno's books, and definitely has no taste when it comes to food.

And even tho he smiles, he definitely lacks any sense of humor.

“He's still very little,” Phil explains, though Techno still looks at Tommy in an exceptionally judgmental way. “He can play with you guys when he's older.”

“All he does is cry.”

The dark circles under Phil's eyes really say it all.

“All babies do,” he just says, pulling Tommy closer to him on his lap.

“I didn't,” he says firmly, and Phil just smiles.

“I can assure you that you did too.”

Techno wrinkles his nose as he adjusts himself in his chair.

“Younger brothers suck,” he says finally, crossing his arms over his chest.

Wilbur, seated at the table and finishing off his dinner, nods eagerly.

Phil looks at him, eyebrows slightly raised.

“But you are-”

“No,” Techno immediately reminds him. “We're twins.”

Phil's lower lip trembles slightly, but he bites it quickly, trying to hide his even bigger smile.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Wilbur frowns, at the hint of amusement in his voice. “I'm sorry, how could I forget.”

Techno lowers his gaze to Tommy, who now obviously bored with the drooling all over the toy in his hands, stares at him with bright eyes, mindlessly shifting his tail next to Phil's thigh.

“Besides,” he says, standing up from his chair. “Wilbur doesn't suck.”

Techno leans forward, hands resting on the edge of Phil's chair, bringing his face close to Tommy's.

“Not like some of us...” he adds.

Phil says something, but Techno stops listening for a moment, because Tommy, still staring at him, leans gently over their father's arm and...

He holds out his hand towards him.

Techno freezes and a tiny palm lands on his cheek.

Warm and fragile, unlike Wilbur's cold, smooth scales or Phil's – rough and covered in old scars.

It's only now that Techno realizes, that Tommy's hair has already thickened a bit, reflecting almost gold in the candlelight.

Techno's ears twitch slightly, and suddenly he notices that Tommy's doing the same. A little differently, twisting them to the sides, but in a similar gesture.

He tilts his head slightly forward, a few strands of his hair, slipping from his braid, falling over his face.

Tommy makes a soft sound, and Techno blinks suddenly, taken aback.

He moves away, staring at the boy.

“Hum. Maybe it's a good thing, that we named him Tommy,” he says, suddenly. “'Kraken' wouldn't really fit-”

“Dad?” Wilbur interrupts him.

Techno jerks his head up at their father, his eyes wider.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, looking as Phil quickly wipes the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“No, no. I'm fine,” he replies.

His voice is a bit shaky, but his smile is wider. He bends down for a moment, his nose touching the fur on Tommy's ears (who has already returned to his previous activity, leaving small tooth marks on the toy), then straightens up in his chair, looking at his other two sons.

“Then why are you crying?” Wilbur asks, moving to the edge of his seat, tilting his head

The scales on his face are slightly overlapping, as he frowns.

“Because...”

He sniffs, but he definitely doesn't look sad as he reaches out to Techno, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Because sometimes you have to,” he says in a warm voice, tucking a loose strand behind his ear.

***

That memory stays with him for a long time.

(Although six-year-old Techno is still not fully aware of its importance)

And no matter how much he denied it, sticking out his tongue at Tommy (which the boy always tried to replicate, much to his annoyance), since that one evening, he started looking at him... differently.

The word 'brother' still sounds weird, and less accurate than 'useless creature who just happens to be living under the same roof'. But he definitely stopped feeling like Tommy was just a 'useless creature who just happens to be living under the same roof'.

He finds himself sneaking into his father's bedroom on his own every night, standing on his toes to peer into the cradle in the corner of the room.

That sometimes, he deliberately loosens his braid, sitting a little closer to Tommy, then pretending to be annoyed when Tommy reaches out his hand, trying to hold his pink hair between his fingers.

That on those nights, when he wakes up hearing loud crying, instead of covering his ears by turning over to the other side, he silently slips out of his room, watching as his father rocks the baby in his arms.

And while it's definitely not the same sort of feeling he has with Wilbur, it's something new and strange.

“Can I hold him?” he asks one evening.

Heavy rain slowly falls down the glass in their windows, but the fireplace effectively warms up the entire living room, shining light on his dad's surprised face.

Techno isn't even sure, why he said it. The thought had been lurking at the tip of his tongue, slipping out somewhere between staring at Tommy, seated on Phil's lap and listening to the long and incoherent 'bedtime-story', that Wilbur was making up on the spot.

But, shifting nervously on the couch, he doesn't take it back, his eyes staring into his own feet.

“O-oh. I mean...” Phil purses his lips for a moment, but then smiles. “ If you promise you'll be careful. It's not a toy.”

“I know,” he replies immediately, looking up. “I will. Can I...?”

Phil shifts closer and Wilbur stands up from his spot in front of the fireplace.

He quickly sits down next to his brother on the couch, both of them staring expectantly at their father.

Slowly, Phil helps Techno move his arms properly, leaving Tommy leaning against his chest.

He lowers his hands, but doesn't move away, and Techno is extremely grateful for that.

Because suddenly, when Tommy's fingers tighten on his shirt, bright eyes staring up at him, he feels all his muscles tensing up.

Because one wrong move, and he could cause something that - as he suddenly realizes - he would not be able to forgive himself for.

Everything's too fragile, too... delicate. Defenseless.

“Changed my mind,” he says quickly, feeling his hands shake. “I don't want him.”

“My turn now!” Wilbur interrupts, sitting on the back of his heels

Tommy looks at him intently, his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. And suddenly he reaches out his hand.

It's not a familiar gesture though, because instead of his face, his hand is moving more to the side, stroking a few loose strands of hair-

It doesn't hurt. Not really, but his whole ear twitches, twisting the other way at the sudden touch.

“Hey!”

Phil bursts out laughing and Techno grabs Tommy's tiny wrist, gently pulling it down.

“What are you laughing at?” he mutters under his breath, not looking at his father, but at the baby still resting on his chest.

“I think he likes the sound,” Wilbur chuckles, leaning closer.

And snaps his fingers, straight in his brother's ear. Techno shudders; quiet whooshing sound filling up the sudden silence.*

Tommy laughs again and Techno grimaces.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Techno! Language,” Phil reprimands him, but his words don't hold the same weight when he still can't hide his amusement.

“It's not my fault that he's stupid,” he murmurs, wrinkling his nose. “I don't like them anymore. Take him.”

But despite these words, when the rain outside the window subsides a bit and Phil tells them to go to bed, Techno stands on his toes by the cradle, watching Tommy's sleeping face.

And when Phil enters the room, he wraps his arms around him, silently lifting him higher. Techno's fingers tighten on the wooden railing.

“Do you still think he 'sucks'?” he asks quietly, and Techno shrugs.

“He's still boring...”

“Give him time.” He puts his son on the ground, crouching to pull up his socks.

“... Okay.”

And taking his father's hand, he looks at the cradle one last time.

***

He regrets that promise about a month later, when Tommy starts teething.

Every bit of affection he ever had for him disappears, leaving behind that new, strange attachment. Like a mess, that has lingered in the room for so long, that the even the thought of a clean room, suddenly feels weird and empty.

But a few dirty mugs and shirts don't try to crawl and get to all the books on your shelf, deliberately biting into the ones with nice covers. Contrary to Tommy, whose new passion quickly became chewing on not only all his toys, but everything that he could get his hands on.

Starting with wooden spoons and bowls, his cradle, and ending with their kitchen table.

“Oh, I know how it is,” says Puffy, packing their fresh bread into the basket.

The snow outside covered the roads and even getting into the store was a challenge. But the inside is warm and cozy as always, and Puffy has a welcoming smile, and Techno really likes the gold bracelets on her wrists.

“Yours too? „Phil asks, trying to put the hood on Tommy's head, to which the boy keeps shifting his ears, throwing it off.

“Yeah. I mean, not now. But I still remember what it was like,” she laughs, then looks from Phil to Tommy, tilting her head a little. “Although, I must admit, mine never quite moves past rattles.”

Phil sighs heavily.

“He ruined all the furniture in the kitchen. And the cutlery as well.”

“He bit me,” Techno says suddenly.

And then, as if he's realizing what he actually did, he quickly pulls on the fabric of Phil's pants.

Puffy laughs softly, tilting her head to get a better look at him.

“Really?”

Techno nods from behind his father's legs.

“Me too!” Wilbur interjects, standing on his toes to reach the top of the counter and taking off his left glove, revealing dark scales. “See?”

The mark that was left disappeared a long time ago, but Puffy grabs his hand, raising her eyebrows theatrically.

“Oh, wow. What a beast.”

Wilbur, clearly pleased with the reaction received, withdraws his hand, nodding eagerly.

“Yeah! And he bites all of Techno's books, too!”

“Wow. Pretty impressive.” She hands Phil the basket, leaning across the counter. “Such a little boy, and already so much trouble...”

Chapter Text

And suddenly, one evening, watching Wilbur very poorly trying to cheat in while they play poker, Techno realizes that Tommy has been living with them for almost a year.

Between the tooth marks on every surface a year-old child can reach and crying in the middle of the night, time passed quickly.

And suddenly, Tommy is able to sit down without any help, and the stairs to their bedrooms, tho definitely still a challenge, no longer seem so impossible to conquer. And although he's still more of an observer than an active participant in the lives of the other two boys, he's definitely becoming a more permanent presence, going beyond the territory of 'useless creature who just happens to be living under the same roof, that also bites, and I also really care about'.

The first, real big change, comes with the end of fall.

“And I said to him: 'I bet you can't go up that tree'. And he said: 'Yes I can' and-”

“And then I did!” Techno interrupts him, crossing his arms over his chest

“Yeah, and then you fell down.”

“So what? It still counts!”

“No, it doesn't!”

“It do-”

“Come on, now,” Phil silences his sons, tying a ribbon around the end of Techno's braid. “I don't care what he said. You could have hurt yourself.”

His hair is still a little damp from the bath Phil forced them into as soon as they walked into the house, with dirty faces and a few new bruises.

“Can't leave you two alone for even a minute...” Phil sighs, and then his gaze suddenly softens, looking at the pale blue mark on his face. “Oh, Techno...”

And suddenly, he pulls his son close, wrapping his wings around him. Dark feathers tickle his nose, and Techno feels his face turn red when Phil kisses the top of his head.

“Dadddd, come on...”

Phil lets him go a moment later, brushing a few loose strands of hair from his forehead.

Wilbur, wrapped in several layers of blankets by the fireplace, pretends to vomit, making Tommy sitting next to him laugh.

Phil turns to face him, with a smirk on his face that Techno knows too well.

“Is that so?”

And Wilbur knows it too, because he immediately stands up, running towards the stairs. But before he's able to get away, Phil grabs him quickly, lifting him off the ground.

Wilbur makes a sound, something between yelp and giggle, as their father effortlessly shifts him in his arms, putting his hands under his knees.

“What now, huh?” he shouts over Wilbur's laughter, planting a few kisses on his cheeks.

He looks up as Wilbur calms down, but still doesn't put him down.

“Now, off to bed you two. And no buts!” he adds, hearing his sons simultaneous groans. “Techno, can you take Tommy?”

Tommy, who has already ruined completely his new rattle, looks up as Techno kneels down beside him. He picks him up, making sure that his ears are out of reach of his teeth.

Tommy looks at Phil, who finally sets Wilbur down, leaning down to adjust his shirt. He takes the toy out of his mouth, reaching his hand towards him and-

“Da-da!”

Phil freezes.

“What?” he asks, voice shaking.

“Da-da!”

Wilbur looks at their father, then at Tommy and suddenly gasps.

“Oh!” But then he wrinkles his nose a little, pouting his lips. “Wait, those are really lame first words.”

“I told you to read him more books,” Techno says as Phil takes Tommy from him with trembling hands. -“Maybe he would have said something cooler. Like 'typhoon' or-”

“Or 'genocide'!”

Phil's not listening to them.

And for this one moment, he only looks at the baby in his arms.

His baby.

“Hello, Tommy,” he whispers, stroking his son's hair.

***

Tommy starts talking and about two years later, Techno starts to wish he never did.

After those first, clumsy first words, everything seems to go way too quick and by the time Tommy is able to stand on his own two legs, his vocabulary reaches far beyond just random noises.

And although he still only refers to Wilbur as: 'Wilby' and comes up with more and more weird replacements for words he still can't pronounce (like his own name), he is definitely getting better at it.

Unlike Puffy and Phil, Techno doesn't think it's 'great'. Not at all.

Because as he quickly finds out, just because someone can talk doesn't always mean they should.

Definitely not as much as Tommy.

And maybe it wouldn't really be a problem, if he continued to do it in the privacy of their own house.

But Tommy quickly develops a habit of harassing anyone stupid enough not to run away at the mere sight of him, and just never shutting up.

Some people think it's cute. Techno thinks they're really dumb.

“You know,” Puffy says one day, resting her elbows on the counter, watching as Tommy chew on his candy at an almost alarming pace, “now I know how you feel.”

Phil raises one eyebrow as he grabs the bread from the counter with his free hand.

“What do you mean?”

“My cousin...” she pauses for a moment, looking away. “I'm looking after his son, for a while.

“Oh,” Phil gives her a sympathetic look.

“Yeah, It's been a lot. My home feels like a real circus.”

“Oh, I know how it is. Kids are like that.”

Wilbur looks at his father, puffing his cheeks.

“I'm not from circus!”

Puffy laughs as Phil ruffles his son's hair.

Suddenly, she leans lower, looking down at Tommy.

“He's around Tommy's age. Maybe they could be friends, what do you think?”

“Oh. Oh!” Phil gives her a big smile. “What do you say, Tommy?”

Tommy swallows the rest of his candy, grinning and showing all his pointy, sharp teeth.

“Okay! But with Wilby. Wilby always makes up coolest games. Yesterday we did this thing and we-”

“Okay, okay.” Phil kneels down, quickly lifting Tommy up in his arms.

“-we made this thing of sand, and, and then-”

“We'll be going. Honey, say 'bye bye'.”

Eventually, Tommy, waves Puffy goodbye.

“You can come over soon,” Phil says as they leave. “You and... em.”

“Tubbo,” she says, waving them goodbye.

***

Puffy and Tubbo actually show up at their house a week later.

Which Techno especially hates, for two reasons.

'Visitors' mean - 'strangers in his house'.

And while Puffy's basically no stranger, or as scary as most adults seems, the boy she brought with her - definitely is

Tubbo turns out to be as short and clumsy as Tommy, but only after a few minutes, Techno can already tell, that he's definitely not as pure as he looks.

Which got him to reason number two. Because within the first hour, the two boys quickly go from hiding behind their guardians' feet, to transforming the living room into their own, personal playground.

Which meant that Wilbur and Techno were deprived of their playground, and were not planning on hiding their anger.

Hiding in the room upstairs quickly turns out to be pointless, because as they realize, the stairs are not a problem also for Tubbo.

The boys have apparently made it their own, personal goal to follow behind them everywhere they go, ruining all their games with their own (very stupid) rules and leaving behind as much of a mess as possible.

And they seem so in sync doing it, as if they did it a thousand times before and didn't know each other only for less than two hours.

So eventually, Wilbur and Techno end up in the kitchen with Phil and Puffy, drawing patterns in the sugar scattered on the table out of boredom.

That is, until Tommy bursts into the kitchen, giggling and out of breath, dragging Tubbo behind him.

“Wow, wow. Slow down a bit.” Phil stops him with a movement of his hand, kneeling down to hand him a glass of water. “You're gonna fall over.”

“Tubbo is my best friend,” he says, between one sip of water and next. “Right, Tubbo?”

“I hope he chokes,” Wilbur whispers in his ear, and Techno covers his mouth with his hand trying not to laugh.

Tubbo nods eagerly.

“Yes, sir!”

“You can call me 'Phil',” he smiles kindly.

“Yes, Phil. And Tommy is my best friend, too!”

“Forever!”

Tubbo looks up and suddenly winces as if thinking about something.

“Even if I'm not here anymore?”

“Why wouldn't you be?”

“It's only for a while,” Tubbo says, taking a sip of the water Phil handed him.

“What?”

But before Phil can remind him not to be nosy, Tubbo replies:

“Living with Aunt Puffy. It's only for now, because I can't live with dad anymore. Because he's a...” He pauses for a moment, moving his lips silently, trying to form a word in his mind. “Al... Alco... Alcoholic! He's an 'alcoholic'. But auntie says to not tell anyone. So don't tell anyone about it.”

“Tubbo!”

Puffy shifts nervously in the seat, the tips of her ears turning red.

“What's an 'alcoholic'?” Wilbur asks, and Phil gives him a sharp look

Puffy blushes even more.

“Don't worry,” Tubbo shrugs, clutching Tommy's hand. “He's not gonna tell anyone.”

Chapter Text

As it quickly turns out, Tommy clearly has no intention of giving up on his new hobby, insisting on following him and Wilbur everywhere, drowning them in pointless streams of words and demanding more attention than any of them were willing to give.

And the fact that his attention span seems to be apparently close to that of a goldfish (no offense to the fish), and any given activity could entertain him only for a few minutes, definitely did not help.

He can't sit in one place while Techno is reading a book, can't hold up even a wooden sword, and although he likes washing his hands in rivers and lakes, he doesn't venture to deep ends like Wilbur.

But even if they were able to keep him busy only for a few minutes, it was still enough time frame for the boys to do the only thing they could think of.

Hide on a tree.

A perfect plan, honestly, apart from the fact that, that there was still nothing to keeping Tommy from standing under it, aggressively stamping his foot.

“Let me up!”

“Nope. It's for big boys only.” Techno leans out, his hands tightening around the branch, to make sure Tommy sees his tongue sticking out.

“I am! I'm a big man!”

“Is that so?” Wilbur raises one eyebrow as he scratches his chin. “How old you are again?”

Tommy pauses for a moment, then extends his hand, bending one finger.

“Four!”

Wilbur looks at his brother, pretending to think hard about something.

“Humm... I don't know... Techno?”

“Come back when you have four and a half. Maybe then.”

“You said four and two months last time! This is not fair!”

Techno shrugs, reaching for one of the branches above his head, breaking off a small piece of wood.

“Life isn't fair!” Wilbur replies.

Tommy wrinkles his nose, stamping his foot again and opens his mouth, but Techno leans to the side, interrupting him.

“Now, go and piss off. We want to talk about grown up stuff.”

He relaxes his fingers as he drops a tiny twig down the tree. Tommy instinctively covers his head with his hands as a small stick bounces off his hands, his ears.

The boy straightens up, looking at Techno, presses his lips together, takes a deep breath-

“Dadddd!” And in a second, he makes his way to the front door. “Dad! Techno hit me!”

“You're a snitch!” Techno yells after him, blushing. “I didn't! I didn't even touch him!”

***

It's hard to say that Techno 'hates' his brother.

Phil always said that 'hate' is a strong word. Techno wholeheartedly disagreed, fully believing that some things deserved even 'stronger' words.

Such as broccoli, wet socks, the neighbors dog, that always barks at him as he passes by.

All these things deserved much worse terms than 'hate', the kind neither Techno nor Wilbur would ever dare say aloud in front of their father.

But it's also hard to say, that he 'liked' Tommy.

Okay, maybe he would let him slip into his bed sometimes and fall asleep, their backs pressed together. And maybe sometimes, he would give him the bigger half of the cookie. And maybe, just maybe, he would be a little bit sad, if one day Tommy finally slipped and drowned in one of those rivers he keeps playing at, alone with Tubbo (no matter how many times Phil reminded them, not to wander off too far).

But that doesn't mean, he didn't want to strangle him and then sell him at the market at least four times a day.

Especially when one person at that market, jokingly calls them 'triplets'.

Techno doesn't think it's funny. Wilbur smiles, as he takes their fish from him, but Techno feels no need this kind of politeness anymore.

Even though he feels offended, in as many ways as possible, he decides to keep it mostly to himself.
Phil always reminds him not to be rude to the people, who handled you food.

'Keeping it to himself', of course meant letting out all of his frustration to Wilbur on their way home.

“We're not triplets,” he mutters, kicking a stone with his shoe.

Wilbur shrugs.

“We're not.”

“Adults are stupid” he adds, wincing as the rock rolls down the road, back onto the grass.

“They're not!” Tommy interrupts them suddenly, jumping over a puddle. “Puffy is nice.”

Techno rolls his eyes and Wilbur pulls Tommy closer, further away from the wooden fence at the edge of the road.

“She's an exception.”

“But she's really nice! And always makes good cookies for us. Me and Tubbo, and I like when dad cooks, but hers are really better.”

The next puddle turns out to be clearly bigger than he expected, because he lands right in the middle of it, splashing dirty water everywhere.

„Oops.”

Techno grimaces, because he's clearly not the only one not enjoying this show, judging from the sudden barking coming from behind the fence.

“Dad says that chocolate is bad for you and everything, but Puffy always adds it-”

“Damn it, do you always have to- Shut up, Tommy!”

“And- Hey!”

“Not you,” he mutters, pulling his brother by his hand. “The dog. But you might as well.”

“His name is Tony,” Wilbur reminds him.

But it doesn't matter, because the animal clearly doesn't care what its name is, calming down only when they're already far away.

Moments later, Wilbur grabs his hand, lowering his voice a little, though Tommy is again too busy stuffing random stones into his pockets, to even try to eavesdrop.

“Why are you so upset?”

“What?” Techno looks at him, confused.

“Why are you so upset that he called us 'triplets'. It's just a joke.”

“Because we're not triplets.”

Wilbur shifts his gaze to Tommy, who's trying to dig out a large a rock out of mud. He shrugs.

“Why not?”

Techno gasps.

“He's too young!”

“And? I'm younger than you too.”

Techno purses his lips as he stares at his shoes. Before leaving, Phil told them to be careful and not get them dirty. Clearly, neither of them listened to him, because it's hard to even say what was the original color of their shoes, under a thick layer of mud.

“That's different. Besides, his birthday is on another day. So it doesn't count.”

“We can change that,” Wilbur says, clearly oblivious to how Techno's ears have puffed up.

Tommy, as if realizing just now that the brothers have decided to just, not to wait for him, is quickly catching up to them, grabbing both of them by their hands with his dirty fingers.

“I don't want us to be triplets,” adds Techno.

“Why.”

Techno doesn't answer.

Partially because Tommy, clearly bored, decides that now is the time for his long monologue about what he did today, even though the three of them had spent it together.

Partially, because he's not sure how.

'Because then you won't be my twin' he realizes that night, when Wilbur is already snoring quietly, buried in his sheets on the other side of the room.

Chapter Text

And it's that one thought, that really sticks with him.

Because Tommy is not Wilbur.

Wilbur isn't a snitch, even when Techno accidentally pushes him too hard.

He doesn't cry for no reason, not even when he scrapes the skin off his knees or gets another bruise.

He doesn't complain that his feet hurt, following him around the woods for hours.

Wilbur is his brother, and Techno won't hesitate to say it out loud. When he talks about Tommy, he involuntarily lowers his voice.

Tommy's annoying, never leaves him alone, talks way too much, and if someone had told him to choose between staying alone with Tommy in the same room for a few hours, or drowning, Techno would say, that he always liked water.

Phil doesn't give him that choice.

The fever takes him by surprise in the morning. Though really, he should have expected it already yesterday's evening, when he followed Wilbur outside, wearing nothing but his sleeping shirt, with wet hair.

But laying among his sweaty sheets, it's hard for him to concentrate on anything.

Phil leans over him, putting one hand to his forehead.

From the other end of the room, Wilbur coughs.

They really should have expected this.

Phil sighs.

“You even get sick together,” he says, wringing a towel of water over the bowl.

Neither Techno nor Wilbur have the strength to laugh.

Tommy looks over from behind their father's wings.

“Don't come too close, you'll get sick too.”

Techno grimaces. Being ill together is only for him and Wilbur.

He rolls over to face the wall, flinching as Phil places a cold towel on his forehead.

Looking back at Wilbur, who has calmed down a bit between the coughs, his breath wheezing but steady, Phil gets up from the chair he placed next to the Techno bed.

“We have no medication,” he says quietly, and Techno slowly turns to look at him. “I have to look for doctor.”

Techno eyes hurt, when he suddenly feels them widening.

“What?”

His voice is hoarse, and as he tries to get up on his trembling elbows, Phil places a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back.

“Shhh...” he silences him, stroking his face. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

He straightens up, looking down at Tommy.

“Take care of your brothers for me, okay?” He says, then leans down, whispering something in his ear.

Tommy nods at the same time, as Techno groans loudly.

“Take him with you,” he pleads.

“I'll be quick,” Phil says, gently touching the forehead of already sleeping Wilbur. “You won't even notice I'm gone.”

***

Techno notices.

The moment the front door closes silently and Tommy is seated on the chair Phil left.

“No talking,” Techno immediately warns him, turning his back to him. “I don't have the strength to deal with you today.”

Tommy frowns.

“No talking? Like, at all?”

“Yes.”

“But I already started! See? Dad said to keep you company.”

Techno mumbles something under his breath, pressing his hands against his ears.

“You know,” Tommy says, “I was with Tubbo yesterday.”

Techno doesn't respond, hoping that the boy will eventually get tired of being ignored.

Apparently, he doesn't.

“We were at his house. And Puffy made us cookies, but I forgot what they're called, and then-”

Maybe it's because of the fever, which seems to only be getting worse, or maybe the tiredness after a basically restless night, that suddenly caught up to him.

But Techno finally lowers his hands, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off, listening to his pointless rambling, understanding only every other word.

On the other side of the room, Wilbur's snoring softly. His hair is sticking to his forehead, his breath is shallow, but looking at him, Techno feels that he's becoming increasingly sleepier himself.

“-well, and then we wanted to go to the river, but Sapnap was there, so we hid from him because he's mean. And-”

Techno opens his eyes, suddenly pulled out from the layer of heavy fog that seems to clog his mind.

“What did he do?”

Tommy, clearly taken aback by his sudden interest, pauses for a moment.

“... What?”

“You said he's mean.”

Techno doesn't even know what really caught his attention. The unknown name, the way Tommy said it - a bit quieter and shy - or the mere fact that he used the words 'hide from someone', which Techno still very deeply associated with something unpleasant.

Tommy wrinkles his nose.

“All the kids are mean,” he says, shrugging. “Except for Tubbo. Tubbo is cool.”

“In what way?”

Tommy looks like he really wants to seem confident, but something in the way his fingers tighten around the edge of the chair, looking away...

“Oh, you know... It's not only Sapnap, tho.”

“What-” He pauses for a moment to cough. “Is he calling you names, or something?”

Tommy presses his lips together, staring at his feet.

“I don't know,” he shrugs.

“What do you mean, 'you don't know'?”

Tommy pauses for a moment.

Under other circumstances, Techno would probably enjoy a moment of silence. But now, the pressure in his throat is slowly building up.

It's like a strange mix of anger, combined with frustration and confusion, and he's not even sure where it really comes from.

Maybe it's the fever.

Or maybe, it's the way Tommy looks so genuinely ... embarrassed, for the first time in his life.

He finally speaks up, still not looking at him.

“I mean... Kind of... You know. But sometimes...” He stops again for a moment, frowning. “He calls me... Em... 'Bay'?”

“'Stray'?” Techno asks, his voice quiet.

Tommy nods.

“Yeah. That. But I don't even know what that means.”

Techno knows.

Suddenly he feels his fingers tighten, his nails digging into his skin.

“Sapnap called you that?”

His voice suddenly feels stronger, full of venom and anger, and Tommy looks at him, cowering a little.

“Well. I mean, it's not only him... He's not that bad, actually,” he shrugs. “Dream is worse.”

Techno frowns at the sound of familiar name.

“Dream?”

“Tubbo's cousin,” he says quietly and then adds. “But his brother is nice. And Puffy. And Tubbo. It's just him that's... Yeah.”

Techno clenches his jaw.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He asks suddenly. “That he's bothering you.”

Tommy looks away again, playing with the collar of his shirt. His tail curls nervously around the chair leg.

“Because... I don't know. I didn't want to bother you.”

Techno wants to laugh.

Because Tommy never had any trouble demanding his attention and chattering over his head-

But suddenly he freezes as he realizes, that clearly, that's not the case. And in his mind, he's able to recall the few moments when Tommy looked at him a moment longer, as if he wanted to tell him something. When he opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing, looking away. When he stopped abruptly in the middle of the story, hesitating, eventually clearly skipping over a few important moments.

Tommy follows them everywhere. But outside the house, he's alone. And he clearly feels it just has to stay that way.

Suddenly, all of his anger disappears and is replaced by... shame.

If it was Wilbur, Techno would have noticed immediately. A few extra bruises, a weird face after coming home.

Tommy is not Wilbur.

But Techno realizes, that this doesn't change anything.

Because Tommy is his brother, too.

“You know,” Tommy suddenly says, “it doesn't really matter. I don't know what that means anyway.
And if you don't know what they're calling you, it can't really hurt you.

Techno doesn't answer.

***

The fever disappears the next day, but a week passes before Phil finally lets them go outside.

A week, during which Techno is boiling from the inside, unable to occupy himself with any activity or even sit still.

Tommy shoots him a glance sometimes, when he thinks he's not looking. His face worried, unsure of what to expect.

The feeling of helplessness passes when Phil waves him goodbye from their porch, reminding him to be careful.

Because now, Techno knows what he wants to do.

He knows very well.

Chapter Text

Dream is surprisingly easy to track down.

Maybe it's because he's not actually hiding, not really. Or maybe Techno just so happen to stumble upon an exceptionally well-informed nine-year-old.

The girl points to one of the alleys behind a familiar bakery, and Techno sneaks under the windows, careful to avoid Puffy's eyesight.

Dream looks like... the most non-threatening twelve-year-old Techno has ever seen. With pale ears and blonde hair, shimmering rainbow in the sun.

When he notices Techno, smile disappears from his face.

“What?”

The other two boys, sitting on the ground next to a wooden box, stop their argument about which of them was 'clearly cheating' in poker, only now realizing the presence of another kid.

“You're Dream?” Techno asks.

He tries very hard to sound less nervous than he actually is. While the other boy still looks very innocent, there's something weird about the way he frowns.

“Yeah. What do you want?”

“And which one of you is Sapnap?”

“What are you, a cop?” Says one of the boys, shuffling the cards scattered on the wooden box; he adds after a moment of silence, “Me.”

Techno breathes deeply, clenching his hands into fists at his sides.

“Well, I came to tell you, to leave my brother alone.”

Dream frowns, as he looks down at his friends.

“What the fuck is he talking about?”

Sapnap shrugs.

“I don't kno- Hey! I saw that!”

The boy kneeling in front of him mumbles something under his breath, shaking a few cards out of his sleeve.

“And your brother is...?” Dream turns to him again, hiding his hands in the pockets of his pants

“Tommy.”

Dream looks up for a moment, as if he's thinking about something.

“Ohhh,” he says finally, smirking. “Tommy. The fucking-” He waves his hand near his hips. “Little guy?”

“Tommy's your brother?” The boy in round glasses looks at him from above his deck of cards. “You don't look like him...”

“He's adopted, idiot,” Sapnap hissed.

The boy frowns.

“Who?”

“All of them,” Dream interrupts them, rolling his eyes.

He looks at Techno again, and he doesn't look nearly as innocent as he did at the beginning.

“Listen...”

“Technoblade.”

“Listen, Technoblade.” He leans against the back wall of the bakery. “It's nothing personal, really. It's not personal with Tommy either, it's just-”

He stops for a moment.

Sapnap mumbles something about cheaters and dumb luck, as the boy in glasses scoops cards from the table, clearly pleased with himself.

“Okay, maybe it is personal with Tommy. But if he wasn't so fucking annoying, it wouldn't be.”

Techno suddenly feels all his previous nervousness and anxiety disappear.

He takes a step forward, his nails digging painfully into his palms.

“My brother is not annoying,” he snaps.

“Ey, ey! Calm down, buddy.”

Dream laughs, but it sounds fake. He takes his hands out of his pockets, slowly standing upright.

“You're going to leave Tommy alone. Got it?”

And suddenly, Dream closes the space that separates them, standing right in front of him. His face is blank, but his eyes are bright.

“Or what?”

Challenging him.

Techno reaches out, pushing the boy's shoulders away. Dream takes a step back, but regains his balance quickly, and a new, much less pleasant smile appears on his face.

“Fine. We can do it that way.”

Sapnap stands up, but Dream waves his hand at him.

“Chill, I got it.”

The boy with the glasses looks nervously at Sapnap, who falls back to his seat, clearly disappointed.

“Guys, maybe we can just talk it out or-”

“Shut up,” Techno grunts, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Or I'll fuck you up too.”

“You can't hit me!” The boy stands up, moving away. “I wear glasses!”

But before Techno can even respond, Dream's hand lands on his chest, shoving him away.

Techno would be lying if he said he has never been in a fight before.

Even if you don't count those with Wilbur, which were more of a mutual show off, than anything else.

Techno never started fights. Treating them as an absolute necessity, always waiting for the other side to make the first move.

He always hid his true strength, blocking attacks rather than delivering them.

He just waited for them both to eventually get tired, resting their hands on their knees, panting heavily.

Then shake hands, too exhausted to continue arguing.

This is not like before.

His mind is filled with a thick fog, and suddenly he can't to think of anything other than Tommy's face that day, as he looked away, ashamed. And those words that sound so sad in his lips.

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy-

'Tommy' hears a familiar whisper, a soft voice in his mind, fueling him with adrenaline and pure anger.

And for the first time, he doesn't ignore it.

He doesn't even notice, when his fingers tighten on Dream's shirt, twisting one of his arms backwards.

He doesn't notice, when he knocks him to the ground, suddenly on top of him.

He doesn't notice, when the confident smile fades from the boy's face, changing into uncertainty and then quickly - fear.

He doesn't notice, when he raises his fist, when there is a sudden sound of bone cracking, as Dream's face rolls over to the side, staining the ground with blood.

Or when someone yells something behind him, when he raises his fist again.

When someone grabs him under his armpits pulling him back, or when he runs his fingernails over their forearms, scratching and-

The first thing that makes him stop, is a loud, familiar:

“What the hell is going on here?!”

Techno freezes. The hands that were holding him pull back quickly, and he drops to the ground.

It takes him a moment to realize, what even happened.

Dream, propped on shaky arms, panting heavily. His face bloody, the beginnings of a bruise visible under his left eye, and his nose at an unnatural angle.

Sapnap reaches out to him, helping him to his feet. There are long, red streaks along his forearms.
When Techno looks to the side, his heart stops for a moment.

Puffy runs quickly to Dream, grabbing his shoulders.

“Oh, gods...”

But then her face changes from shock to pure anger.

And Techno almost feels bad for him.

He almost feels bad for Dream, who hides his face in his arms, cheeks red and eyes full of tears, getting scolded by his mother in front of his friends.

Almost.

Because suddenly he also realizes, that he doesn't regret anything.

“Have all of you gone mad?!” Puffy pulls her son closer, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, holding his dirty, bruised face in her hands.

Dream looks over her mother's shoulder at the boy with glasses, standing behind her, desperately trying to look anywhere, but at his friend.

He clenches his jaw.

“George! You're a fucking snitch-”

“I would be quiet, if I were you.” His mother silences him, wiping a little blood from his lip. “We'll talk when we get home.”

“Techno started it!” Sapnap yells, clearly trying to save his friends ass in any way.

Techno would be very grateful, if this display of chivalry wasn't at his expense.

Puffy looks at him as if she's only now realizing he's there.

“I don't care who started it.”

But her gaze lacks its normal warmth - raw and sharp.

“Just wait till your father hears about this.”

***

Phil shows up less than half an hour later, landing in front of the bakery, dark wings stretched out in all their glory, holding both sons under his arms.

“Gods...” he pants entering the store, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead. “I'm getting too old for this.”

To say Phil is 'angry', would be an understatement.

Phil is furious, patiently listening to Puffy talk, face jaw clenched.

Wilbur sits down on the floor beside Techno, squeezing his hand.

“You really fucked him up,” he whispers in his ear, and Techno feels himself smiling.

Finally, Phil gives his son a sharp look and Techno lowers his head.

He's silent for a moment, clearly looking for the right words.

“Techno,” he says finally, and although he's not yelling, his voice is cold. “What even gotten into you? Starting fights? I thought you were smarter than this.”

“Well...!”

Techno purses his lips as he looks at his youngest brother, who's hesitantly shifting from foot to foot, clutching their father's hand.

“He was bullying Tommy.”

Phil raises his eyebrows at Puffy, who seems as surprised by as he is.

Tommy quickly hides behind their father's legs, though sitting on the counter, a sack of ice pressed against his swollen face, his head low, Dream seems to be the least dangerous and most pathetic person in the room.

Puffy's tightens her lips.

“Oh, we're gonna talk, alright,” she says quietly, but loud enough for her son to hear.

“Even if that's true,” Phil turns back to him, but suddenly there is a hint of hesitation on his face. “You should have told me about it first.”

“But you can't hit him. And I can.”

Phil sighs, rubbing his nose with his fingers.

Puffy waves them goodbye with a forced smile, turning to face her son as soon as the door closes behind them.

They can hear her screaming for the outside.

Phil pulls Techno close; dark feathers touching his back.
“Don't think you got away with it,” he says firmly. “But...”

He looks around for a moment, to make sure there's no one around, then leans in, whispering in his ear.

“Did you win?”

Techno grins, nodding.

Later, Tommy reaches his side, slipping his tiny hand into Techno's.

“Thank you,” he says softly, clenching his fingers around his, and Techno leans in, ruffling his hair.

So maybe, he thinks as Tommy jumps over a puddle, still holding his hand, he likes his brother a bit more than he thought he did.

That night, Tommy slips under his covers, throwing his arms and legs around him, pressing his cheek against his back.

Just a little bit.