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Technoblade doesn't exactly like waking up.
Whether it's from his yearly hibernation or a measly nap, whether it's from a deep sleep or just a doze, he doesn't like it. Point blank. End of. Full stop. That's all there is to it, really.
He's not a morning person. He's not an afternoon person. He's not even an evening person. He's just tired, exhausted, fatigued, and he likes to be asleep for as long as humanly possible. (Or not so humanly, seeing as he's... a bit more than just a regular human if you take the pulsing Piglin genes into factor and account.)
The very point being, Technoblade doesn't like waking up, and especially not to four, heavy bangs on the front of his wooden door and an ear-piercingly familiar screech of, "Oi! Big T! Wakey-wakey!"
Ah, of course.
Of, fucking, course.
The Gremlin child was at his door, and he was looking for attention from somebody.
With 'Big T' being him and that somebody, Techno presumed with a heavy sigh as he began to peel himself upwards. He couldn't even pretend that it was Philza who Tommy was calling out for, seeing as Phil's name started with a 'P,' and as stupid as Tommy typically was and acted to be, his spelling and pronunciation wasn't all that awful – not awful enough to completely get something as simple as that wrong.
Well...
Actually...
No. No. Cut the kid some slack.
Technoblade was going to have to get up, wasn't he? He was going to have to pick up his newly polished axe – thanks Ranboo - and head over to the front door to greet (or maybe punch) the annoying little nerd that liked to proclaim that he was his younger brother.
(Traitor actually fit better in Techno's mind, but the pink-haired man didn't have it in him to start an argument with the Voices over that one this early in the morning.)
"Blaaade! You can't ignore me forever! I'll start fuckin' kickin' down this door if you don't hurry up-" A very real and very probable threat.
"Christ, Tommy," The Piglin drawled, all hoarse and raw toned from his long, long nap. He was probably going to have to chug a few gallons of ice-cold water after this. And maybe wipe away at whatever blood had spilt because that was... most likely a presumable outcome to this draining situation. "I'm coming; hold on."
This, this scenario, was something that Techno also didn't want to do. Not in the slightest. Not even a single bit.
He didn't want to leave the security of his piled, rather warm (and highly comfortable) nest; he didn't want to force himself to step towards the door where he knew the exact embodiment of chaos was waiting; he especially didn't want to have to stand there through Tommy's inane ramblings about... whatever.
But, as per usual, he was going to because Techno was nothing if not patient.
(Probably. Maybe. Not really.)
A sigh.
Technoblade swung the large, spruce door open in one hefty pull, eyes narrowed, and pink lips pressed into a tight scowl. Gods, he hadn't even managed to pin the messy locks of hair up into something even a tad presentable.
Huh.
His gaze scanned over Tommy then. Over his torn, ripped t-shirt, over his frizzy, unkempt blonde curls, over the dirt still smeared across his left cheek. Well – at least they both looked like total shit, he supposed.
"Alright, what do you want?"
Blunt as ever, and just like his usual, grouchy self, though it was a tone that Tommy didn't take too kindly to, apparently.
"You know, I really think you ought to be a little nicer to me, especially since that I'm like, sixteen and you're old as shit now and bullying children just doesn't look good for you, does it, Blade? Bit weird. Well! Not that I'm a child or anything. Not me. Tubbo maybe, but not me because I'm the biggest fuckin' man you'll ever set eyes-"
"Tommy."
"Okay! Okay, sheesh, hold on, dude, Christ."
The teen was muttering and cursing violently under his breath as he went, shuffling on the precisely-placed wooden planks outlining the raised platform in front of Technoblade's house and- oh, of course, he'd trodden soaking wet footprints made up of snow and mud and was that sand? What the fuck? All the way up to Techno's doorstep.
God fucking dammit, this child. Technoblade was going to kill him. Or maybe 'accidentally' push him back down the stairs and then kill him. Both options were looking particularly enjoyable, especially if the outcome was Tommy's death because, whew, Techno's life would be a lot easier after that-
"Here!" Tommy exclaimed finally, a broad, self-satisfied grin smeared across his vibrantly pink flushed features as he began to pull his thin hands back out of the deep expanse of his inventory.
Techno blinked.
Tommy held out a cupcake.
Techno blinked again.
Huh?
What?
The cake... thing... was messy, to say the least. It was lopsided and a little uneven – it looked more like an oddly placed mountain than anything – and the frosting seemed to be dripping absolutely everywhere, except oddly enough, one patch that appeared to be completely rock solid.
There were a few sprinkles here and there, maybe alongside a speck of mud or something... or perhaps that was the sand that Tommy had somehow brought with him through the thick of the tundra, but.
But it was a cupcake all the same.
And Technoblade was very confused.
"What?"
"What?"
Tommy stared, and Techno stared back.
"Is..." The Piglin flicked his tongue against his sharp lower teeth, a slight huff tumbling from the man's upturned nostrils and brushing past golden nose piercings. "Is this your shitty attempt at poisoning me?"
Techno frowned, brows creasing and lips downturned.
It was, wasn't it?
Christ-
Tommy had seriously come all the way from the central area of the DSMP; he'd seriously abandoned whatever he'd been doing (probably something to do with that stupidly impressive (not that Techno would ever admit that out loud) hotel business) to attempt to poison the Technoblade with an odd-looking, sloppily-made cupcake.
"What-"
"You realise I have three lives left anyway, right?" Technoblade brashly continued without letting the blonde get in a single word, "You'd only be taking one life away from me, and that's if the poison even managed to completely kill me anyway. You know for a fact that I have chests full of buckets of milk at my ready, so... so why would you try something so obvious? It doesn't make sense, Tommy what are you trying to-"
Logic, logic, logic. Where was the logical answer to this puzzle? Where was it? What was Technoblade missing here? Maybe-
"Oi! Dickhead! Shut up for a second, would you?"
A pause. A pink-tinted brow raised.
"Excuse me?"
Tommy began waving his arms around theatrically just as Technoblade's large hand went for the handle of his Netherite axe. His baby-blue eyes were as wide as saucers, and he seemed to be spluttering utter nonsense again. Techno just looked wholly done with it all and... admittedly, quite pissed off.
(Though, in that sort of situation, with a rambunctious, loud teenager trying to thrust a sloppy - supposedly poisoned - cupcake towards your chest, who wouldn't be a little peeved? A little aggravated?)
"Hold on- hold on, it's- shit, Blade, you always gotta assume the worse, haven't you? Fuckin' arsehole," The teen muttered vehemently, "But no, I'm not trying to poison you!"
"...Then what are you trying to do?"
This time, it was Tommy's turn to raise his brows at the inquiry. All puzzled and conflicted - all surprised and worried.
"Its- have you seriously forgotten?"
Tommy appeared to tilt his head then. Technoblade was even more conflicted.
What had he forgotten? What had he let slip from his mind? It wasn't like he baked, and he certainly hadn't asked Tommy to make him a cake, nor had he done anything even remotely close to something like that, so... what could it be? ...Unless-
"It's your birthday, innit!"
And, oh, oh, oh.
Really?
It's your birthday, innit. How... classy.
But no, it couldn't be. (Could it?)
"It's not..."
"Nope! Nuh-uh! It certainly is your birthday, Big Man. I checked on my calendar and everything! So, happy birthday. Got you this, see? And it's not poisoned whatsoever."
"I don't..."
"I was actually going to give you the Axe of Peace, but I figured I might need it for something at some point, plus you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself anyway, so I'll just keep it, right? Anyways! I got you this cupcake, baked it myself n' everything, I did."
Tommy seemed to be swelling with pride, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, all giggly and excited as he rocked backwards and forwards on his heels. And Techno?
Techno, he... well, he couldn't even find it within himself to get mad. To get angry. To push forward that glistening façade as a hateful and vengeful anarchist.
Because Tommy- well, Tommy had remembered.
Gods, he had actually remembered, and something was swelling inside of Technoblade's chest, something warm and festering and oh-so reminiscent of older times. Of birthdays spent with bucket hats and beanies, with blonde toddlers and a large farmhouse.
Family, family, family.
Traitor, traitor, traitor.
"It looks like crap."
"Oi! It looks perfectly fine, dick!"
"No. It's lopsided and dripping, and I'm pretty sure you got sand stuck on the top of it."
"Sand!? I did not! Fuck you, whatever, fine; I'll take it back and eat it myself away from you and your stupid ungratefulness-"
No-
"Wait!"
Tommy slowly spun back around from where he'd been determinedly walking towards, brows raised, and lip jutted into a mock-pout. He clearly wasn't actually sad, but Techno still found his heart clenching uncomfortably at just the sight.
"Hm?" The teen questioned just vaguely condescendingly with his tone.
"Give..."
A sigh, all heavy and leaking with the remains of a tired warrior.
"Give it here. Now."
"Say please, and I'll maybe think about it."
A huff. "Tommy."
"Jeez! Okay, calm down, here, take it and eat it already or whatever. I've got things to do, Blade! Businesses to run, friends to harass, homeless people to make fun of, y'know how it is."
Techno scoffed as he carefully picked up the cupcake from Tommy's outstretched hands, all heedful and mindful of his elongated claws and the amount of pressure that he was applying to the delicate edges. "Just a casual day in the life of Tommy Craft, then?"
"Exactly! You always understand me so well, Techno."
"I wish I didn't."
"Blah, blah, blah, I'm already too far away, walking so far away, can't hear you!"
Techno glanced up, rolled his eyes, and then glanced back down to the... monstrosity in his grip. "You're a few feet away from me, Tommy."
"Miles away, Blade!"
"Feet."
"Miles."
"Feet."
"Mile-"
"Oh, dear God, weren't you leaving, Theseus? Just because I didn't kill you before doesn't mean that I won't do it now. Right now."
Techno's free hand slipped back down to his axe.
A squeak, all high and scratchy and not as manly as Tommy might've hoped for, was released from the teen. "Fuckin' hell, I'm going, I'm going! No need to get your knickers in a twist."
Knickers, pfft.
"Whatever, Tommy," The Piglin murmured as he stepped back into his doorway, half-in and half-out. There was a brief pause, a moment of harsh, rapid thinking and oh, Techno was going to regret his following words, wasn't he? He was going to regret it so, so much. "...Thanks for this, by the way."
A sharp inhale, and Tommy came barrelling back even through the doubled, thick layers of snow. Oh, Gods. What had Techno done?
"Did you just fuckin' say 'thank you'!? Holy shit! I'm writing this in the records, now, if this isn't something to go in the quote book, then I dunno what is because Christ, that's something I never thought you'd ever say and especially not to me. Holy fuck, Blade, have you lost your marbles or something? What is going on man, oh my-"
Technobalde turned around and promptly slammed the door shut.
Yeah, happy birthday to him, then.
(He was also very much so ignoring the fact that he could still hear a blonde teenager's insane rambling. Whatever.)