Chapter Text
“What do you think, Techno, red or white?” Phil asked, holding up the shirt to the young piglin’s body, switching between them to see which one the boy liked better.
His snout scrunched up a little, looking at the two shirts, snorting in concentration. His hooved hands pulled the clothing back and forth between the two. School was starting soon, and Phil had wanted to get the boys some new clothes for their first day. It was a little late, Techno would be going into the second grade and Wilbur into the first, but it had been for the best. Neither of them had been ready to take on the stresses of meeting new kids and being alone for eight hours in the day, without Phil there to help them.
Wilbur had jumped at raised and loud voices for the longest time, and the avian was still nervous about sending the boy off to school, but as soon as he had brought the option up with Techno, his little brother had not been far behind with insisting that he wanted to go. It would not be bad for them to socialize with kids who were not each other, but that did not stop Phil from worrying.
He was really, really worried about them. What was going to happen when he was not around? Techno was outgoing and liked to point out things to other kids, telling stories of the little adventures that he and his brother had or the ones that Phil had told them about. And they had only really interacted with other kids a few times at parks, but the avian had been a few steps away, sitting at a park bench, ready to take the piglin up into his arms if the other kids were not letting him play.
And Wilbur was still so shy. He copied everything that Techno did, his piglin mannerisms of collecting golden trinkets, the trades that he did, trying to barter for things that he liked, pressing his nose against things much like his brother did with his snout. He had just come out of his shell, and Phil was terrified that he would get bullied and lose all of the work they had put in.
But they had both insisted that they were ready. And when the boys put their minds to something, there was no stopping them.
“I like the white one!” Wilbur said from where he sat on a bench, swinging his feet quickly in the space between himself and the floor. Little Tommy was sitting in his lap, babbling to himself and playing with Wilbur’s fingers. The baby had grown fast, too fast for Phil’s having just turned two, he was starting to explore the world around him, and with how rowdy his brothers were, he was not ready for the chaotic trio that they were going to be. “Dad, can I get a white one too?”
“I thought that you liked the yellow sweater?” Phil asked the six-year-old, looking at the small pile of clothes that they had already accumulated in their cart. He was trying to get Wilbur to like other things and not just copy what his older brother did, gently encouraging him to try different things, expand his interests. It was not the most crucial thing in the world, but he did not want the young boy to feel like he had to copy everything that Techno did.
Wilbur looked down a bit, swinging his legs a little harder, and curling his hands into fists around Tommy’s chubby baby hands. Trying to get rid of some of the nervous energy.
“Yeah, I like the yellow one,” he mumbled, a conflicted look in his eyes, “but I like the white shirt too.”
“Alright, how about we get you a matching white shirt, just so that you can match with Techno on the first day.”
His eyes lit up. Gods, Phil was never going to get used to how his heart burned with love every single time he saw the joy ripple through their innocent eyes, a dorky smile stretching across his face, ruffling his son’s hair. He loved his sons more than he could say, and seeing them happy made everything worth it.
After picking out a few more outfits, they checked out and started to head back to the car. Techno insisted on carrying the bag with his clothes, holding it with ease across the parking lot. And, as expected, Wilbur wanted to do the same, struggling a lot more with the load, almost dropping it a few times, and giving Phil a heart attack. The last thing they needed to do was to pick up clothes in a busy parking lot of TarGay. Especially with children around.
Techno was getting stronger. Not because he was trying to be, but because of his piglin nature. With the proper nutrition and meals, he started to develop muscle on his small frame, along with a layer of chub that did not seem to want to leave. It was not like he cared all that much; chances are, he did not even notice, but Phil could not miss the way that his appetite had been growing at a steady pace. It did not help that his tusks were starting to come in. Just the very beginning of it, his teeth shifted to get ready for the space that the tasks would need. His jaw ached with the movement, his other teeth starting to get loose and wiggle. He was beginning to get confined to a lot more soft foods, soups, pasta, and jello, which was not helping his appetite. Phil tried to accommodate as much as possible, and it was not too much of an issue yet, but he knew that it would be. And he was not ready for Wilbur to start losing teeth; the two were already fascinated by the wiggling ones in Techno’s mouth; he did not need them sticking their grubby hands in each other’s mouths to try to feel the teeth move.
Kids could really be gross sometimes.
“Here, mate let me help,” Phil said, opening the car trunk, and started to load things into it, Techno already hefting his stuff into the back and moving his hooved fingers in front of Tommy, making the baby laugh.
“I got it,” Wilbur said, leaning back in a way that would make Phil’s back scream at him and then rocking on his tippy toes, barely getting the bag in there, a few of the clothes close to slipping out of the plastic.
He turned and gave a smile to his father at his accomplishment, and Phil could not help but cooed at the boy, ruffling his hair, before telling them to get into the car. The boys settled themselves into their booster seats while the avian retrieved the youngest from the cart and strapped him into his own car seat, gathering the last of the bags into the trunk, filled with school supplies that the two of them had picked out themselves.
By the time he had gotten into the driver’s seat, Techno and Wilbur were in an intense game of sticks, Tommy just moving his hands up and down, giggling whenever one of them made an overdramatic lose or win of ‘sticks.’
He smiled. How could he not? They were growing up so fast, and he did not feel ready. Phil did not feel anywhere near prepared for what was happening. He had Techno for three years, Wilbur for one, and Tommy had entered their lives halfway through his first year of life. Phil had not been able to hold all of his boys when they had been babies or watch them take their first steps or hear their first words. He had been lucky to be there for a few of Tommy’s milestones, but a part of him still felt guilty that he could not be there for all of them.
And now they were going off to school. With other people and teachers and, oh gods, what if one of them had a breakdown, or Techno’s teeth started to really hurt, or Wilbur got too anxious and started to pick at his skin? He would not be there to help, and what if they did not make any friends? Was this really the right decision? What if he was making a wrong move and was sending his sons into the lion’s den and--
There was a giggle from Tommy, making him realize that they had not been moving for the past few moments. He turned on the car and let the radio start to play, looking back to make sure that he was exiting the parking lot as safely as he could.
Techno and Wilbur were going to be okay. This would be good for them; they needed to be around kids that were their own age. Keeping them home would stifle them, and everything would just be harder for when they would leave when they were older.
Oh, gods, they were going to grow up to be teens. They were going to become adults, move away, and get jobs. He had never thought about it, but they were growing fast now, but that was just going to keep going.
But that was a long time away; their family still had time. They had a lot of time. Phil had time. There was still a lot that he needed to teach them, and there was still time to get them ready for the adult world. And it was not like they had to leave. And he would always be there for them if they needed him.
Yeah, he was freaking out for no reason. They were going to be okay. And that was so far from now; right now, he just needed to worry about getting his sons ready for school tomorrow, get them dinner, and put them to bed at a reasonable hour so they could get a good night’s sleep.
They parked in the parking garage that led to the portal. It would take them to the central hub, and from there, Phil could find where their private server portal was. Manburg was not a really big server, a safe, decent-sized city where people did not feel the claustrophobia of a small town but could also get around the place with relative ease. Big with that small-town feel. He liked it. If Phil did not have his own server, then he would have moved here in a heartbeat. Of course, he loved his private server with all of his heart, but this place was a very solid second.
At the very least, the principal of The BadLands Elementary had been pleasant and was willing to make accommodations for his sons since they were going to need a few. It was not like Phil was sending them to a completely strange and new place; he had been doing research, trying to find the best place to send both his mob and traumatized son. And this was about as good as they were going to get, so he was going to take it.
He helped the boys out of the car, balancing Tommy on his hip while putting everything into his inventory. Techno and Wilbur had already forgotten about their mission to carry their bags, and whispering things to each other, giggling ever so often, and covering their mouths, glancing at where Phil was closing the trunk.
“What are you little shits giggling about?” he asked playfully, reaching down a hand and moving his fingers a bit. Wilbur ran up and took the hand while Techno gently grabbed onto one of his primaries. The piglin liked the texture of his feathers father’s feathers, and since Phil’s arms were already full of their younger brother, he did not mind. As long as the two did not run off and get lost, he was alright. Locking the car, the family started to make their way to the portal, letting the magic take them to the hub of servers.
“Nothing,” Techno said with another giggle, snorting a bit at their own joke and looking right at Wilbur, who burst out into laughter as well.
Phil rolled his eyes, knowing that he would probably hear all about it when he was putting them down for bed or eating dinner. Neither of them were very good at keeping secrets.
The hub was quiet this time of day, a lull in activity before the nightlife started to pick up. Phil had been a part of that rowdy scene before he got a habit of picking up stray children off of the streets, and now all he wanted to do at nine o’clock was settle down with a good book, take a bath, and then just go to bed. He could feel an ache in his bones starting to take over every night, trying to put off the inevitable that, yes, he was getting old. Scars that he had gotten a long, long time ago were starting to act up again, flaring every once in a while in pain and making him stop what he had been doing and massage them.
The avian had not been the kindest to his body at a young age. Competing in competitions, sweeping the floor with his opponents, putting a lot of strain on his joints and wings without the proper warm-ups or cooldowns, and he was starting to pay for these decisions. Not in a major way, it was mostly ignorable, and he often still took flights around the server looking for resources, but every once in a while, he was reminded of what he had been doing in his twenties and early thirties.
He was much more careful now, but that did not stop his joints from locking up sometimes and his back from aching after sitting for a long time in the wooden chairs that he had, for some reason, thought was a good idea to furnish his dining table with.
Gods, he was getting old.
The boy bounced in their heels as they walked through their portal, Phil holding onto his bucket hat as the magic took them, Wilbur grabbing onto the cloth of his baggy green pants during the transportation.
They opened the door of their home, and Phil immediately put Tommy down onto the playpen that they had made in the living room, so the baby could play and not get lost. That, and he was an adventurous baby and should not be trusted to not get into trouble. Phil had found him one too many times elbow deep in a jar of peanut butter to know that he would be a troublemaker when he got tall enough to work door handles.
Plopping his hat onto Techno’s head, his piglin ears flattening out at the fabric, the avian started to pull things out of his inventory.
“Why don’t you and Wilbur pick out your outfits for tomorrow and get your bags packed while I get dinner started,” he said, setting the bags out in front of the couch, letting the kids tear into them.
Lasagna sounded like a good option for a meal, with some garlic bread and green beans. Even if he would have to fight with literally everyone at the table to get them to eat their vegetables, a few down was better than nothing. And they were so excited; he was sure that he could get them to do almost anything at the moment.
His house had added a second level, something that he had not expected to happen, getting a finish on his home so much faster than he had been expecting—furniture and baby proofing the entire house. Especially when Techno and Wilbur started to get more comfortable and actually started to walk around, he needed to make his home the safest as possible.
It was homey, much cozier than he had been expecting. There were many blankets all over the place since Techno was still very sensitive to the cold and needed to keep bundled up when the winter months happened. Pictures lined their staircase, and warm colors were painted on the walls—warm colors all around them. Phil had never imagined himself in such a domestic setting, and yet here he was.
Making food was the background of softly played music. Techno and Wilbur divided up their school supplies, stuffing their pencils and pens into their cases and debating on what colored folders and notebooks each of them got, attaching little charms onto the handles of their backpacks. At one point, they had pulled Tommy out of his ‘child prison,’ as they liked to call it, and let the toddler crawl around them, babbling around the pacifier that was stuck in his mouth.
Phil picked up little snippets of their make-believe world, setting the table and setting the hot dishes down to let them cool for a while; he got some baby food for the youngest in their family.
“Techno, Wilbur, Tommy! Food is ready,” he called gently, walking around the couch to where the boys were. Opened packages were all around them, with their bags packed and zipped up, with Wilbur holding his younger brother close to his chest, giggling while Techno chased them with a pillow. “How about you two pick up, and I get Tommy settled for food?”
The two nodded and stopped their game, scrambling to pick everything up, while Phil took the toddler from Wilbur’s arms.
Dinner was normal. Or as normal as their chaotic family got. Techno told a story that he had made up, waving his arms around with food still on his fork, needing to be reminded to take a bite before telling stories. Wilbur watched with absolute fascination, slowly eating while his older brother enamored him. Tommy munched on the smooth baby food in between Phil’s own bites, staying quiet for the most part and keeping an ear out for his son.
After that, it was showers and bed. The water was a nice background while the avian cleaned the kitchen with the help of Techno, and Wilbur picked up where he left off once he was done and snuggled into his pajamas.
“Phil,” Techno whispered, drawing his father’s attention as he put the leftovers away, gesturing to the baby pen that they had placed Tommy in while they did work.
The toddler was out, completely slumped over himself, his mouth open a little, tiny snores that could only really be made by a small baby.
“He’s asleep,” Wilbur said, looking over the top of the pen, having to stand on his very tiptoes to look.
“Come on, big man,” Phil cooed, gathering the toddler into his arms, letting him grab onto his shirt, pressing his cheek into his father’s shoulder. “Let’s go put him to bed. Then you two brush your teeth; you have a big day tomorrow.”
“Yeah!” Techno shouted, clamping a hand over his snout as soon as Phil had put a finger to his lips, gesturing to the sleeping boy. The piglin turned to Wilbur, who was following close behind. “We’re starting school. Are you excited?”
Wilbur gave a muted nod, but his eyes lit up the same.
Phil bent down and allowed the two of them to give the boy a kiss goodnight before he started to get Tommy ready for bed. He was sleepy as his father wiped his mouth, brushed his teeth, and got his loose limbs into night clothes, tucked him into his bed, moving his blonde curls out of the way to press a kiss into his forehead. The toddler curled around the plush cow he had gained an emotional attachment to.
Phil started about his nightly routine of checking on his other sons with a content smile, walking as quietly as he could downstairs to Techno’s room. The piglin was already out like a light, his ear twitching, snorting every once in a while. The boy was so excited about school that Phil only hoped that it would be everything he wanted. He did not want his boy to be heartbroken. If there were any gods, he just hoped that they would let him have a good first day.
Making his trek back upstairs, Phil passed the photos that they had put up, blurry and unfocused, frames in cheap frames that would shatter if they even fell even a foot to the ground. But they were their family photos. Phil had never seen himself as someone who would have more than one kid. Hell, when he had told Eret, the person that had oh so graciously given Techno to him, it had been in passing. Phil did not even have a partner to raise kids with. And now, he would not trade his sons for anything.
Stretching, letting his wings flip a bit, Phil opened Wilbur’s door. The boy was also asleep, or at the very least, he was in bed. He turned to finally get some shut-eye after a long day when a voice stopped him.
“Dad?” Wilbur’s voice was still thick with sleep, likely a few moments away from drifting off when he had talked.
“Yes, nestling?” Phil cooed, leaning on the door a bit as he talked.
“I’m scared.”
“For school tomorrow?”
He gave a nod. “What if no one likes me?”
“Aww, Wilbur,” he crossed over, giving the boy a big hug, letting him hide his face into the fabric of his shirt. “It’s alright, mate. They are going to love you. You just need to be yourself, and you’ll be just fine.”
“Promise?”
Shit. Phil did not want to make a promise that he could not keep. He did not want to say something that was going to just hurt the boy later. But looking at the glassy eyes that he could see through the light that poured in through the hallway.
With another prayer to the gods above that he was not telling a lie, Phil chirped and snuggled the boy closer. Gods, he hoped this was not a lie.
“Promise Wilbur. Everything is going to be alright.”