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“It snowed last night.”
Techno’s voice rings through the tiny kitchen of their apartment, and there’s a slight lull in the previous background noise that had been echoing through the small space. Tubbo and Tommy had been chattering away over their bowls of cereal, Phil humming softly to the radio and Wilbur leaning on the counter as he flipped through a magazine, the shuffle of pages. All of that goes silent except the radio-- that continues on the background, some stupid pop song echoing through the apartment.
“It did?!” Tubbo’s the first to break the silence, scrambling out of his chair and rushing to the window Techno’s currently peering out of. The blinds are unceremoniously shoved aside, Tubbo poking his nose under Techno’s elbow in order to get a look. Then Tommy, not far behind, peering over Tubbo’s head and resting his chin in his hair. Wilbur makes his way over as well, and then Phil, and now they’re all crowded against the window and staring out into the fresh expanse of white covering the parking lot and the field beyond. Techno’s trapped up against the window, stuck with Phil against his back and Tubbo at his side and Wilbur, a hand on his arm as he peers over all their heads. They’re all squished here, the faint chill from the glass permeating the front of Techno’s pajama shirt and making him shiver slightly. The blinds are crumpled in their haste, shoved so far to the side.
“So it did,” Phil muses, and Tubbo squeezes to turn around a bit.
“Can we go out!??!” He asks breathlessly. “Look at it! No one’s touched it yet! We can make a right good snowman!”
“Or angels,” Wilbur says.
“Or a snowball fight,” Tommy butts in with a grin, pounding a fisted hand into his other open palm. “We’ll smash you.”
“Phrasing,” Phil chides, giving outside one last cursory glance before stepping back and away from the window. All of the sudden Techno has room to breathe, and breathe he does, escaping away towards the warm kitchen. Tommy and Tubbo stay by the window, noses pressed to the glass-- Wilbur takes two steps back, floating in the space between the two. “I don’t see why we can’t go out for a bit.”
“It’s going to be cold,” Techno points out, the thought of snow being shoved in his face or down his jacket making him dread it already. He knows that’s how this outing will end up-- it’s how all their outings end up when there’s snow involved.
“So we’ll layer up,” Tubbo says, tearing himself away from the window. “C’mon, please!!!”
“I said we could,” Phil points out. “Finish breakfast first though, yeah?”
“Okay!” There’s a chorus of agreement from Tommy and Tubbo; Techno doesn’t remember being half as enthusiastic when he was that little, but then again, he was a quieter kid than the both of them. Faster than he can pour himself a cup of coffee from the kettle, Tommy and Tubbo are at the table again, spooning cereal into their mouths at light speed.
“Please tell me I don’t have to come with,” Techno mumbles, opting to drink the coffee straight black out of the pot. Phil laughs, elbowing him gently.
“Come on, mate,” he says, giving him a grin. “I’ll need help corralling them.”
“Yeah,” Wilbur says, appearing at Techno’s side and lazily drooping over his shoulder. Techno jumps a bit, a splash of coffee dripping onto his thumb and burning it. Lightly, he wipes the splotch away and rolls his eyes. “Phil and I can’t manage those two by ourselves, you know that.”
“I was talking about corralling you three, actually,” Phil says, an accusing finger pointing between Wilbur and Tommy and Tubbo.
“Rude!” Tommy calls.
“Fair enough,” says Wilbur.
“Chew with your mouth shut,” Phil shoots back, then turns his gaze back to Techno. “C’mon. When’s the last time we saw snow like this?”
Techno’s going to regret this. “Fine,” he says, sipping again from his mug. It’s bitter. It burns. He forces himself to like it. “I’ll come out with you. But I’m not helping when they get into trouble.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Phil says, and, always the eldest, reaches out to give Techno’s hair a ruffle. Techno ducks and weaves, dodging the hand expertly, and pays for it with a splash of coffee on his hand once more.
As much as they try to eat quickly, Tommy and Tubbo do end up finishing breakfast in a more timely manner. From there, it’s a frenzy of layering on clothing and snow pants and boots and mittens and hats until they’re all bundled up. Tubbo’s the first one out the door in his bright-green jacket, and Tommy’s right after him in red. They live on the fourth floor-- so by the time they reach the bottom, Techno is sweating under his pink jacket already. Wilbur tucks his nose into his scarf as they step out into the chill, pushing open the apartment doors and exiting into the back parking lot.
“Look out for-- oh, for fuck’s sake,” Phil mutters, pushing past Wilbur and Techno in order to catch up to Tommy and Tubbo, snagging the backs of their hoods. He scolds-- Techno exchanges a look with Wilbur, the snow still falling gently. Wilbur’s lashes are already coated, the snow clinging gently onto his curls and earmuffs making bumps on either side of his head. Techno’s own hair is french braided, hidden under a hat. Both their glasses fog, and they give each other matching exasperated looks before rubbing the fog away.
“Remember when we used to get so excited over this?” Wilbur asks, muffled through his scarf. Techno rolls his eyes.
“Not so excited that we’d run into a parking lot without looking,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets as they make their way carefully across the lot. “They’re ridiculous.”
“What was that fort called?” Wilbur asks, the snow crunching under their feet as they reach the field on the other side. He untucks his nose from his scarf in order to tap his face with his mitten, looking devious. “That you used to build? Fort Blade?”
“Shut up,” Techno says, pulling his own hands out of his pockets to shove at Wilbur’s shoulder. “Fort Blade was epic.”
“It was ridiculous. And you wore that crown-- ”
“Shut up!”
“WILBUR!” Tommy’s shout cuts through whatever Wilbur was going to say next, and he tips his head. Tommy and Tubbo and Phil are standing in the field, Tubbo and Tommy sitting on the ground and gathering snow into a pile.
“WHAT?” Wilbur shouts back, cupping his hands around his mouth. Techno winces.
“Come help!” Tommy calls, and Phil waves them both over, so after a second they both traipse over through the snow. It’s a good amount-- maybe ten inches, maybe more. “I want to build an igloo!”
“Do you even know how?” Wilbur asks, leaving Techno’s side in order to go over and stop Tommy from shouting more, getting them all in trouble with the building’s admins. They’d had that problem before-- to the point where Phil was on first-name basis with most of the staff.
Speaking of Phil, Techno sidles up to him and kicks aimlessly at the snow. It’s powdery, but sticky. The perfect kind of snow for snowmen and snowballs. “Not going to help?” Phil asks after a moment, gesturing with one gloved hand. Techno eyes where Tommy is hanging onto Wilbur’s arm, Tubbo on his leg, talking wildly at him. He blinks the snow from his eyes.
“Nope,” he says, popping the p. “That’s not my idea of fun.”
“Oh, really,” Phil says, and the sarcasm is practically dripping off his tone. “I had no idea. What’s your idea of fun, then?”
Techno considers the scene in front of him, then squat down and collects some snow up in his mittens. He shapes it carefully, until finally, there’s a nice-sized projectile in his hand. He judges the distance, how Wilbur keeps dipping with Tommy’s weight, and aims--
Smack .
“Oh, fuck off!” Wilbur calls, hair coated in white. He has to shake Tommy off in order to wipe at his face, tugging his glasses off and glaring in Techno’s direction. He wipes them down carefully. “Why am I the one being tortured here?”
“Snowball fight!” Tommy cheers, having landed on his butt when Wilbur had shaken him off. It apparently had not dissuaded him in any way, as there’s the plop of snow landing at Techno’s feet.
“You missed,” he calls, kneeling down to pull together another snowball.
Tommy’s next throw hits him right in the face.
Oh, it’s war .
In the end, they all lose. Wilbur’s glasses are frosted over and so are Techno’s-- Phil lost his hat halfway through the fight, and now he’s sitting in some snow with red cheeks and ears. Tommy and Tubbo are endlessly energetic, still running around even after a snowball fight that has left them all breathless.
Tubbo skids up to Techno, grinning, face flushed and red as he thumps to his knees in the snow beside him. “Help us,” he says, tugging on his sleeve. “Tommy wanted to make an igloo. Now I do.”
“Do you know how to build an igloo?” Techno asks, raising a brow and tucking his braid back up into his hat, patting to make sure it’s secure.
“Mhm!” Tubbo nods. “I read about it in a book!”
“You can’t read,” Techno points out, although he knows it’s not technically true. Tubbo gives him a look, sticking out his bottom lip and letting his eyes well up. Techno sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and then, finally, nods. “You’re such a liar,” he says as Tubbo jumps in the air with enthusiasm, landing on Techno’s shoulder with a grin.
“At least I’m not a gremlin,” he says, “like Tommy is.”
“Fair enough,” Techno says. He shifts to get up, knocking Tubbo off of him and brushing errant snow off of his butt and legs. “Where do you want to build it?”
Tubbo glances around, hand latching onto Techno’s. He allows it.
“Over here,” Tubbo finally decides, shuffling over to an untouched piece of snowy field. “We need to make bricks.” Tubbo lets go of his hand in order to kneel, showing him carefully. Techno pays attention-- in the distance he can hear Wilbur and Tommy shouting, and Phil occasionally, but he pays it no mind. He and Tubbo work to create snow bricks, stacking them carefully on top of each other and packing snow in between at Tubbo’s direction. It’s surprisingly easy and difficult at the same time, as it turns out it takes a lot of snow to create an igloo. After the first three layers are up, Wilbur, Tommy, and Phil have come over and are finally helping too.
By the time they’re nearly done, they’re all exhausted and the snow is trickling to be less and less. The storm must almost be over, and Techno takes a moment to sit and take a break.
“I don’t think Wil or Phil or I will be able to fit inside,” he says after a second, tipping his head and eyeing their structure. “It’s way too small.”
“So it’ll be Tubbo and I’s fort!” Tommy crows, patting at the outside of the igloo carefully.
“I don’t know,” Phil says gently, taking a few steps back. “Look at it. It’s kind of lopsided. Not sure if anyone should go in.”
“But Phil!” Tubbo appears from around the far side of the igloo, and Wilbur stands up from where he’d been helping. “We spent so long on it!”
“Come on,” Wilbur says, patting the top of it gently. “Look. It’s fine. Let them go in for a bit.”
“Yeah!” Tommy grins, patting the side of the igloo more roughly. “It’s perfect!”
Phil sighs lightly. “Fine,” he says after a moment. Techno hides his smile behind a mittened hand. “But five minutes. Then we go in. We’ve been out here for an hour, almost two. My face is cold.”
“That’s because you’re old,” Tommy mutters, patting again at the outside wall. “Old old old.”
“Old enough to be able to ground you,” Phil says mildly, and Tommy scowls, picking up a handful of snow to throw at him.
“Fuck off,” Tommy says, and Tubbo laughs wildly from where he’d disappeared around the far side of the igloo.
“Don’t disrespect your elders,” Wilbur chides, reaching over and tugging Tommy’s hat down over his eyes. Now Techno’s laughing, ignoring Tommy’s cries of displeasure and indignation. Techno will never miss a chance to laugh at Tommy’s misfortune-- that includes now.
“Done!” Tubbo calls, popping up again from behind the igloo with red cheeks and a happy smile. He cuts off their arguing easily, peering inside the igloo entrance and then looking over. “So can we go in?”
“Five minutes,” Phil says, tapping his hands against his arms. “That’s it.”
“See if you can get us out again,” Tommy sneers, and then dives forward. The entrance is small, but big enough for Tommy to wiggle his way inside. Tubbo’s quick to follow, giggles echoing out into the field as Phil sits, Wilbur joining him. Techno stays up, circling the igloo and packing some snow into some errant spots.
“Five minutes!” Phil calls out as a reminder. There’s more giggles from inside, and Techno finally decides to go over and plop into the snow. He leans against Phil’s shoulder, a steady warmth to keep him up as they watch the igloo and Wilbur messes with his glasses. His fingertips are red– Techno’s sure his are the same, even under his gloves.
“This makes me think of when you two were small,” Phil says absently. Techno lifts his head; Wilbur does the same on Phil’s other side.
“Oh?” Wilbur prompts.
“Yeah,” Phil says, heaving a sigh. “Fort Blade.”
Techno can feel the way his cheeks flush, despite the chill, and he reaches out to smack Wilbur. “Let’s not talk about this.”
“Okay, King Blade–”
“Bruh,” Techno groans, burying his face into his gloves. They’re wet. They stick to his hair, his skin, but it’s okay. “Really?”
“What is the meaning of life?” Wilbur laments, pressing a hand to his heart and extending the other. “If not to cause thine sibling eternal suffering?”
“Sibling?” Techno squints. “I think Phil needs to get your eyes checked again. I see no sibling here.”
“Boys,” Phil sighs. “Please.”
“Eat shit,” Wilbur says. Techno casually flips him off (behind Phil’s back, of course. He’s not an idiot.)
“Stop being children,” Phil complains, pushing himself up and out of the snow they’d comfortably sat in. “Tubbo, Tommy. Come on, it’s getting cold.”
“We’re warm in here!” comes Tommy’s muffled reply. Techno’s not surprised– that’s how igloos work, after all.
“Don’t care,” Phil calls. He kneels by the exit of the structure, tipping his head to peer inside. “Come on. Time to go in.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“No!!”
“Yes.”
“N–”
Without any warning, the top of the igloo caves in.
Techno’s moving before he knows he is– scrambling out of his spot in the snow and throwing himself at the pile before them. Instinctual panic– panic he sees mirrored on Phil’s face, echoed in Wilbur’s expression as he moves to stand over the pile and hover, furiously trying to scoop away snow.
“Fuck,” Phil’s muttering. There’s a dark spot there– a hood, and Techno doesn’t hesitate to grab it and tug, pulling out a sputtering Tubbo. He wails. Techno pulls him into his lap, runs his fingers over his face, makes sure there’s no snow in his mouth or nose.
“You okay?” He asks, and Tubbo stops wailing in order to nod, big shuddering breaths. A second later, Tommy’s being pulled out of the pile of snow in much the same way Tubbo was– by the hood, immediately sinking into Phil’s lap and clinging there with both hands as he spits out snow and blinks away whatever stars he had surely been seeing. Wilbur’s there in a second, between both Phil and Techno, one hand on Tommy and the other on Tubbo's.
“You’re okay,” Phil is saying, one mitten cradling the back of Tommy’s head. Techno mirrors the action, doing the same for Tubbo, checking his hat and pulling clumps of ice snow off of it with care. Tubbo’s not crying anymore– he just sits there, sniffling every now and again. “You’re okay,” Phil continues. Tommy’s face is still hidden in his lapel. “We’re okay,” he says again, quieter.
“Told you about the igloo,” Wilbur mutters gently. Tommy’s hand raises, and slaps down on his face without much grandeur. But that’s enough. Techno lets out a huffy laugh, the adrenaline sinking out of his spine and into the cold earth beneath them. It’s been a long morning– he’s cold, Tubbo is cold (shivering in his arms, but Techno won’t say anything just yet), Tommy is still stubbornly clinging to Phil even as Phil gets to his feet, Wilbur going along with. Tubbo gets a look at that arrangement and promptly glares at Techno– he doesn’t let go as he carefully balances to his feet. Tubbo relaxes into his hold, breath stuttering and warm on his ear.
“We’re okay,” Phil says, patting Tommy’s back. “Let’s go inside, yeah, mate?”
“Yeah,” Tommy wheezes. Tubbo hooks his chin over Techno’s shoulder, sighing. Whatever fear had just snapped through them all like Jack Frost’s wind is mostly gone now, melting away.
“Tommy,” he calls, the sound loud in Techno’s ear. Shuffling.
“What.”
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
“‘Kay, boss man.”
They all know about the small rooms and cramped spaces that haunt Tommy’s nightmares. The fear of drowning that Tubbo undeniably has every summer at the beach. Being unable to breathe is a phobia they share, and Techno carefully adjusts his grip on Tubbo to carry his weight on his hip as they head across the parking lot and back towards the building. Wilbur acts as doorman– chattering halfway up to their apartment, the warmth sinking into all of their bones.
By the time they’re out of their wet gear, jackets spinning in the dryer and multiple cups of cocoa made and distributed, any and all fear is forgotten, replaced by laughter. Techno sinks back into the couch with a smile, and sighs.