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After the… incident, it was hard for Phil to look at Ranboo the same. Every glimpse of black and white in his peripheral vision made his heart twist in shame, and every welcoming smile sent an embarrassed flush covering his cheeks. It wasn't Ranboo's fault he made Phil distressed by his mere presence alone - it was quite the opposite actually: a problem with no one but Phil himself. Ranboo had done all that he could to make sure Phil was okay after being suddenly attacked, and it wasn't his fault the pup had decided Phil's wing looked tasty.
No amount of trying to beat the logical thought process into his mind stopped the shame and guilt that rose to the surface, demanding to be listened to no matter how irrational. Phil wanted to bolt every time he left the shelter of his house, hide from Ranboo's concerned stares and shove his feelings down into the dark void he sheltered every negative thought or feeling in so no one would have to deal with his problems, but Ranboo seemed insistent on sticking by his side after his mini breakdown - clawed fingers slipping through the cracks in the walls Phil had spent centuries putting up and pulling the stones free, one small gesture and conversation at a time.
Ranboo had even offered to help with the construction of the training area Phil was building, which was a pleasant surprise he hadn't expected but welcomed wholeheartedly (well, somewhat).
Phil had to admit that having Ranboo as company while he worked on digging out his and Technoblade's training area was nice . Ranboo didn't pressure Phil to talk about anything despite the burning questions he must have, and an extra pair of hands was greatly appreciated on a task as large as carving out a massive cavern underground.
Chat seemed to enjoy Ranboo's presence too, though perhaps a little too much in Phil’s opinion. They found a great joy in demanding Phil ask Ranboo random questions or tell him stories from lifetimes ago just to see his reaction.
It was a good time, lighthearted and fun after so much seemingly endless misery (and sometimes Ranboo would remind Phil a little too much of brown curls and a wide smile adorned with a yellow sweater). Phil enjoyed spending time with Ranboo as much as chat did, but everytime Phil's back was facing Ranboo, he was horribly self conscious of every move his wings made - his mind hyper aware of every shift and brush of his feathers and leaving an unease permanently lodged in his chest.
Ranboo helping Phil with the digging also had the rather unfortunate side effect of forcing Phil to actually take breaks while working. The teen was nowhere near as strong as Phil, lacking the centuries of experience he had, and thus ran out of energy much faster. And while Phil could let him rest on his own and keep working away like he normally would if was on his own, Phil couldn’t help but feel guilty everytime he left Ranboo to sit on his own.
Everytime Phil joined Ranboo on his breaks, the younger always seemed almost suspiciously happy about it, grin a little too wide than it should. Phil knew it was because Ranboo was happy Phil was taking care of himself, and it made him irrationally irritated, because he was fine, he didn't need to be watched over, he wasn't a child who needed babysitting.
When Phil thought the moments over, late at night, he was nothing but grateful that Ranboo cared enough to be glad he was taking care of himself - overjoyed, even.
Phil's alone time was unfortunately not spent continuing to work on the many projects he had, but rather relaxing. Chat was determined to make sure he properly rested - they were always stubborn little shits, but Phil had really underestimated the lengths they would go - and had taken to hopping across every inch of his body they could feasibly perch on while cawing like they had been possessed and pecking at him until he eventually gave into their demands.
Admittedly, he appreciated them for all they had been doing. He would've fallen deeper into a hole of his own making without chat, so he could only be grateful.
It was a few weeks after Phil and Ranboo's new routine formed that Phil woke up at the crack of dawn with a restlessness sizzling under his veins - not the uncomfortable, itching kind, but rather the yearn for adventure. And how could he say no to that opportunity?
Where are we going Dadza? a crow perched on the bridge between houses asked. Phil hummed as he readjusted his chest plate, trying to make sure it didn't pinch at his wings - it wasn't supposed to, having been made specifically by Technoblade to make sure he could remain in full motion, but one could never be so sure.
"We're going exploring," Phil answered cheerfully, reaching a hand up to ruffle the top of the crow's head as he passed by. The crow squawked at him, ducking under his hand and flying off. Phil stretched his wings out as he stepped onto the snow, and as he paused, a few crows carefully landed on his shoulders, snuggling into the fluffy lining of his poncho.
Exploring poggers
Wooooo
Exploreza
Let's go!
"Hopefully we find some cool shit," Phil said. Chat agreed loudly as Phil finally set off, snow crunching under his feet. The crows took turns telling Phil stories of things that they had seen since the last time they'd interacted, and Phil laughed the entire way to the shore at the tales of their nonsense. The crows on his shoulder bickered the entire way there, some dramatic dialog he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to. It was nice, being able to listen to them as he walked, and for once, Phil's chest felt light.
As he approached the shore, the boats docked at the edge slowly came into view. A few impatient crows flew off ahead of him at the sight, perching on the docks while they cawed back at him. Phil rolled his eyes at them, continuing his regular pace.
The waves gently lapped against the dock as he carefully unloaded his gear into the boat. Behind him, chat squabbled over a tiny gold nugget, tossing it around and trying to steal it from each other. Phil watched them from the corner of eye, amused. He had no idea where they had gotten the nugget in the first place, but they seemed to be having a good time roughhousing, so Phil let them be.
It was only when a crow snatched the nugget up with a triumphant cry and hopped over to Phil did Phil finally turn to face them. Their faces, frankly, looked dumb, and Phil chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. The crow in front of him lifted its head up to display the nugget proudly with a Hello Dadza I have won the war.
Phil openly laughed, holding his hand out as his torso shook. The crow dutifully dropped the nugget into his palm, and Phil tucked it into a pouch on his belt. The crows pouted at the loss of it, and Phil shook his head as he expertly undid the knot of the rope keeping the boat anchored and stepped in.
The boat wobbled underneath him, but Phil had enough experience that he easily kept his balance as he plopped down into it. He flicked his wings out to shake off the water droplets clinging to his remaining primaries before neatly tucking them against his back. The moment he was settled, chat wasted no time in joining him, landing on the lip of the boat and inside of it. Several crows chose to rest on his lap and all down his legs, and a lucky few perched on his shoulders - and of course, the brave soul who would try to balance on his hat.
Phil giggled as a crow stuck its head underneath his chin to peer at the crow across his shoulder with a caw: feathers soft against his skin. The crow perched on his shoulder cawed aggressively back before dramatically turning away and staring into the distance. Phil watched, highly amused as the crow under his chin's head and wings drooped as it let out a sad caw that went ignored.
"Maybe next time," Phil told it, barely restraining laughter at the absurdity of the situation. He gave it a few consoling pats on the head before finally returning to what he had been trying to do before. It didn't take long for Phil to organize his gear, and push away from the shore with a grunt of effort. A few of the crows lost their balance, but they managed to hold on as they set off along the shoreline.
Phil sang a quiet, mindless tune made up of chirps and trills as he rowed, and chat joined in to the best of their abilities - bobbing their heads to it while cawing along. They sounded terrible, but Phil managed to keep his laugh contained to a wide grin as they made their way through the water.
As the sun rose through the sky, the wind and waves started to pick up. It was nothing Phil hadn't seen before, so he wasn't worried in the slightest about it. A few of his crows hopped down from the edge to avoid getting splashed, but aside from that, it was nothing but peaceful.
A particularly large wave made the boat wobble, and an unfortunate crow who had been perched near the edge was sent flying into the water. Phil cackled at its cut off distressed caw, barely able to keep it together as he bent over to scoop the poor crow out of the water. It's wings flapped uselessly, and Phil struggled for a moment before finally managing to get it. It complained loudly as the rest of chat laughed at it, and Phil couldn't stop his own chuckles as it shook its wings out at them in anger.
Having expected something like that to happen, Phil grabbed the chunk of sponge by his side and gently dabbed at the feathers until it was no longer soaked. The crow snuggled into his neck gratefully - clearly sulking - and Phil allowed it to rest there as they simply bobbed in the water.
When the crow finally stopped shivering, Phil finally continued down the shore - but he let the crow stay cuddled against him just in case. The journey was pleasant; the sun rising into the sky as the day passed. Phil almost considered swimming down into the shipwrecks, but given the abnormal chill that hung in the air and his lack of spare clothes, it probably wasn't the best idea.
(Once, years before during the ages of the Antarctic Empire, Phil had been stupid enough to actually dive down looking for treasure in the freezing water. He had reportedly looked like a "drowned cat," and Technoblade had swaddled him in his soft red cloak and carried him back while they bantered back and forth. Phil's wings had felt waterlogged the rest of the day, but when they finally got home Technoblade's endless teasing had turned into something softer as he added to the fire and brought Phil a cup of hot chocolate - he even allowed Phil to keep his cloak for the night, despite his prior complaining about Phil's thievery.
Phil had dozed off to the sound of Technoblade's quiet reading, and had been roused by Technoblade carefully taking the empty mug from him. Phil had held still, just to see what he would do, and Technoblade had tenderly brushed Phil's bangs away to press a gentle kiss to the crown of Phil's head with a soft, "Sleep well, angel."
Phil cherished that memory, and held it tucked close to his heart for rainy days.)
The rest of the trip passed by without another incident, and soon enough Phil had reached a new shore. Getting out was a hassle, seeing as his crows decided to be stubborn little shits and refuse to move, but eventually Phil was able to stumble onto the ground and begin the exploration he had promised them. The snow underfoot was fresh, and the sky had darkened with gray clouds. Phil frowned at it; a sting of doubt making itself home in his chest. Perhaps he could have picked a different day, Phil mused. Getting caught in a storm would be less than ideal, but despite knowing to trust his gut instinct after centuries, Phil continued forward anyways.
(In hindsight, Phil really hadn't learned anything, but he liked to think he did. For the most part, anyway.)
As he walked, one particular crow decided to fly off to a clearing in the trees and land on the ground. Phil tilted his head to the side as he watched it, a baffled laugh escaping him as he stopped walking to properly observe it.
"What're you doing, mate?" Phil asked. The crow didn't give him a response: just squawked as it continued to hop around face first into the snow. The crows perched on his shoulder shared a look at each other, and Phil snickered into his hand at their offended expression.
A moment later, the crow let out a triumphant call and suddenly flew back, and it was only years of ingrained instinct that let Phil raise his arm to catch it.
The crow held something in its beak, and when Phil put a hand out to take it, a multicolored rock was carefully dropped into it. This is a rock, the crow said solemnly, I have brought you a rock so you can now achieve your true form of Rockza.
Phil threw his head back and laughed: torso bouncing with the movement. The crow innocently perched on his shoulder said nothing, and when Phil finally managed to get himself together he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the crow's forehead.
"Thanks mate," Phil grinned. The crow trilled happily, bouncing across his arm in joy before flying off to no doubt find another rock. Phil slipped the rock into his pocket with all the other trinkets and oddities his crows collected for him as he continued to walk - heart warm. He had missed this - talking to chat while mindlessly wandering around. Normally, Technoblade would be with him, entertaining chat as they walked hand in hand through the woods, but Technoblade had been in hibernation longer than normal that year, so Phil thought it best to not bother him when he was still barely awake.
The longer the day went on, the darker the sky grew to be. Wind whipped through the trees, billowing Phil's hair to the side. A storm was clearly brewing, but Phil had committed, so he didn't turn back. Chat continued to bring him odds and ends, and Phil popped briefly in a cave to rescue a crow that had gotten stuck in a crevice. Regret began to stir in the back of his mind as the wind picked up, and when the first flake of snow fell, Phil knew he had to turn around.
Chat whined and complained, and Phil let them, worrying his bottom lip as he hurried towards where he was almost certain he had set off. The snow only fell more and more as he walked, and Phil very quickly realized that he had made a mistake. The wind picked up more, and Phil shivered, pulling his wings tighter to himself as he puffed up the feathers that were left to try and keep warm. Several crows departed as the storm picked up, and Phil let them. The one that remained stuck close to him, settling on branches and clinging to his shoulders.
Phil cursed himself for being such an idiot as he walked, the snow only growing worse. For once, why couldn't he have just listened to logic and done something to make sure he was okay, why did he have to be such a stupid dumbass? Phil wished Technoblade was there to scold him, because at least then they would have been together and surely they would have worked something out. They always did.
Except time crawled by and the storm only grew worse and worse . Phil was certain he had taken a wrong turn. He was cold, an unshakable chill slipped through his layers and sank right into his bones. The snow beneath him grew harder and harder to walk on, and a sharp wind cut into his cheeks and ears. Phil shivered, teeth chattering. He hugged his arms close to himself as he trudged through the snow, each step dragging and leaving him stumbling. Goosebumps were raised across his skin, the soft down on his back and neck fluffing up along with his feathers in a desperate attempt to trap his body heat.
Phil could barely see trees in front of him through the flakes whipping past him; a haze of white covering the distance. His wings burned in a fresh agony, an icy chill cutting right through the patchy and thin feathers covering them and sinking straight into his bone. The harsh wind bit at the sensitive flesh and an alarm call crawled up his throat against his will. Phil tried to force it down, feeling almost ill as he did so because there wasn't anyone around him, he wouldn't be getting any help from anyone, and he especially didn't have a flock to go running back to.
Tears gathered on Phil's lashes, because he was undoubtedly lost - the trees around him unfamiliar -nand Phil was sure he had wandered in nothing but circles for the past who knew how long. He cursed himself for being so idiotic to try and outrun the storm instead of finding shelter because he should know better than that - and yet here he was. Phil didn't want to die, not when Ranboo would be left worrying, and not when Technoblade, his closest friend, who had stuck by his side for so long and had been through so much with him, would be left alone. Phil knew he couldn't be so selfish as to leave them behind.
Finally being face to face with Lady Death would be a reprieve he wasn't even sure he deserved, but god did he crave it; phantom touches of her hands cupping his face as he cried with the bloodied corpse of his dead son (and he had been the one to do it, what was he thinking) cradled in his arms flashing through his mind as he tried to force himself to just keep walking.
He was going to die, Phil realized with a laugh that was more a sob than anything. Another sob forced its way past his lips, and Phil couldn't help but realize how pathetic he was being - resigned to death after his own stupid mistake. After the first broken cry, tears began spilling down his face, freezing against his skin in the cold. Phil's legs shook under him as he stumbled through the woods, his feet dragging in the snow as he leaned heavily against the trees for support as he passed them.
His limbs refused to cooperate with him - movements slow and sluggish. That wasn’t a good sign, he knew, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.
Walking was a struggle, breath coming out in pants, and then his foot hit something hard buried deep in the snow and Phil's world was violently tilting. The alarm call Phil had tried so hard to keep down shoved its way out, loud and clear and filled with an undeniable terror . Phil's face landed in cold snow as he toppled over: the sensation of the icy powder burning against his sensitive wings. Phil tried to pull them closer, his feathers dragging against the icy texture, and Phil shivered violently at the spike of pain. He didn't want to die like this, freezing to death because of his own incompance, but Phil was so, so tired.
Even if he kept walking, there was hardly a point to it. He would just burn off more energy then he had to spare and wind up further away. Resisting was pointless.
So Phil let his eyes fall shut, listening to the wind howling above him as he shivered pitifully. It was peaceful, and for once, the never-ending thoughts that plagued Phil's mind were silent. It was acceptance, he supposed. If he was going to die, there was no point in dwelling on the past; he had no way of changing it no matter how much he yearned to do so. Phil had lived a very, very long life. A death in nature with nothing but his thoughts seemed fitting.
The few members of chat that had been with him cawed in distress after he didn't get up, flapping down and desperately huddling against him in a clear attempt to try and keep him warm. It hardly did anything to stave off the freezing chill, but Phil let himself nuzzle his face into their feathers with a warbled coo as they settled against his neck and slipped underneath his poncho. They cooed back at him, and while they were no help in keeping him warm, Phil appreciated them greatly. The least Phil could do was keep them warm, so he dragged his wing across the ice despite the pain to drape it over himself. He wrapped his arms around them in a gentle hold as he curled in on himself in a weak attempt to stay warm.
A crow forcefully bumped its face against Phil’s with a loud caw, hopping back and forth in the snow while flapping its wings. They were trying to keep him awake, Phil realized with a tiny smile, and so he did his best to keep his eyes open despite how tempting the pull of sleep was. A delirious giggle was pulled out of him as the crow hopped in several circles and stumbled to the side: clearly dizzy.
Coggers, the crow nodded to itself, before continuing to do its odd little dance.
His laugh tapered out quickly, eyelids growing heavier and heavier. The crow bumped its face into Phil's face again with a stay awake awake awakza, but Phil couldn't focus on it no matter how hard he tried. The crow cawed in distress, and Phil could only manage a strangled warble back as he shivered violently. Consciousness was a losing battle, and as time crawled by, Phil found himself less and less bothered by the outcome.
All at once, Phil woke - with no memory of ever falling asleep - and he wasn't sure how much time passed. When he became aware again, his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and was pounding in pain. His wings screamed as a burning freeze covered them, and he was chilled to the bone, shivering violently as his teeth clattered together. A whine tore itself out of Phil's aching throat because he ached and hurt and he was so, so cold.
Phil's crows were still pressed tightly against him, feathers puffed up in an attempt to trap heat. Soft coos of comfort escaped them, a gentle attempt at reassurance despite their own clear shaking. The warmth they had provided had clearly been sapped out of them by the cold, and it was rather telling that Phil felt more concern for their well being than his own. They had stayed with him to try and warm him instead of leaving to save themselves, and despite the fact that he couldn't feel his fingers or toes, Phil's heart was warmed.
A crow near his head cooed miserably, pressing its head into his chin as it readjusted itself. Phil couldn’t summon the energy to try and comfort it, and a striking guilt sunk its claws into his heart. Because the only reason they were there was because of him, and they would have been completely fine if Phil hadn't been so stupid.
Phil found himself drifting once more, and when he woke, it was to a familiar voice - distant and distorted by the wind - asking, "Phil?" Phil wanted to open his eyes, to see who it was, but his body refused to cooperate with him. Anyone could have arrived to put him out of his misery, and wouldn't even have the pleasure of knowing who it was.
A hand gently shook his shoulder, blissfully warm compared to the cold, and Phil whined again as he tried to shove himself up into it. Something was said he couldn't catch, and then there were arms wrapping around him and gently pulling him out of the snow. Phil was tucked into a warm chest, face buried into a soft fluff. Most importantly, he was warm, and Phil clinged to his saviour as tightly as he could, uncaring of the chirps that left him as he tried to absorb as much of the heat as possible so the cold would go away.
The person holding him shushed him gently, readjusting their grip on him, and then they were moving quickly through the snow. Phil's head swam at the sudden movement, a painful pounding making itself known - and Phil wanted to stay awake, but he was finally somewhat warm compared to the chill that haunted him, and he was so tired, so Phil let himself drift.
-0-
When Phil woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was warm. There was a comfortable weight settled over him, and he was resting on a soft, plush surface that left him feeling like he was floating on a fluffy cloud. His limbs ached and his head throbbed in a dull pain. His eyes felt glued together, and his wings felt ruffed and uncared for as they shifted against the wondrously soft development. Phil could hear the crackling of a fireplace nearby, warming the side of his face pleasantly.
Phil groaned quietly, shifting ever so slightly and immediately noticing the forms tucked against his side and resting on his back. It was chat, he realized, heart warming at the fact that they had crawled in bed to snuggle against him once again. Soft feathers tickled his skin, and Phil pressed his nose against the closest one with a sleepy coo, sinking into the plush surface underneath him. Phil hadn't woken up so comfortably in a while, but surrounded by chat, maybe he was okay with sleeping in - it had been a while since he had let himself relax this much anyways.
Phil was ready to fall back asleep, lulled into unconsciousness by the warmth of the fire, the softness of the blanket wrapped around him, and the gentle press of chat huddled against him - and then he realized with a start that this wasn't his bed.
Phil's heart jolted in his chest, and he had to force himself to keep his breathing even so he wouldn't alert whoever had brought him here. Where the fuck was he?
Phil knew what his own bed felt like, and he knew what Technoblade's couch felt like, and the cushions underneath were very distinctly neither of those . Ranboo's house, maybe, but Phil wasn't sure that Ranboo even had a fireplace in his house. That meant that Phil could be anywhere on the server. Had he really been kidnapped - and if so, what was the purpose if they didn't tie him up?
Phil tensed as rapid footsteps echoed out in the distance, trying to stay as still as possible to appear asleep. The footsteps were followed by slower, heavier ones, and Phil's breath hitched against his will. At his side, a few members of chat had started to sir, shaking their feathers out - yet they remained leaned against him.
"Grampa not okay?" a childish voice asked suddenly, startlingly close to Phil's face, vaguely familiar, and strikingly young.
"Only for a little bit," a voice - Ranboo - whispered softly, voice dripping in a fondness beyond belief. It was a tone Phil had never heard from him before, and all at once the anxiety he held dissipated at the sound of it "He was out in the snow too long, but me and Da are gonna make him all better."
"He stayed out in the snow too long… and got sick?" the child guessed slowly.
Ranboo gasped excitedly, exclaiming a hushed, "Yeah, exactly! I'm very proud of you for remembering that." Giggles filled the air, those clearly belonging to a toddler, peppered with snorts.
Phil tried to keep listening to what was said after, to stay in reality as his heart still raced - but his limbs were so heavy and his mind was clouded with a bone deep exhaustion. Phil still had no idea where he was (the options had shrunk with the knowledge that Ranboo's kid - Micheal, he thought - was there, but he still had no idea) but Phil was with Ranboo, and Ranboo would never let harm come to Phil. So no matter how much he wanted to cling to reality, Phil slipped away into unconsciousness.
When Phil came aware again, it was to the familiar smell of pancakes and some sort of soup wafting through the air. A few members of chat had shifted positions: one daring soul resting right on Phil's neck and head buried into Phil's hair. A short ways away, there was a chatter, but Phil's grip on reality was still wavering, so all he heard was a garbled mess.
"Stop doin' that to the poor pancakes," Ranboo was saying in exasperation when Phil finally managed to force his attention on the noise he was hearing. Tubbo's laugh responded - the laugh he used when he knew he was in the wrong yet kept doing it anyways. There was a brief silence where Phil had time to process that Tubbo was there, and then a sudden scream shot through the air. Phil's heart rate spiked in his chest, limbs jerking as all the exhaustion of before was thrown away and replaced with an animalistic panic. Phil's vision was blurry and out of focus as his eyes were forced open, and his heart was too fast as he shoved himself to sit up with shaky arms - head spinning dangerously at the movement and the pain spiking uncomfortably.
All at once, chat was shaken awake, coos of comfort crawling out of their throats before they were even fully aware of what was happening. A head nuzzled into the side of Phil's cheek as a soft whine of pain escaped him, and Phil couldn't help but lean into it.
"Put me down!" Tubbo shrieked. Several thumps against wood sounded out along with the familiar pound of cabinets and feet slamming into the floor.
"Stop trying to kick me!" Ranboo fired back: voice strained with effort yet playful all the same. More bumps echoed out, followed by both of them yelling and then a loud thud. Loud laughter followed it shortly, and Phil's eyes were wide with an unshakable fear as he tried to locate the noise . It was only when Ranboo stumbled into view while holding Tubbo out by the elbows as he kicked did Phil finally remember to breathe out.
They both giggled maniacally at each other - Tubbo wiggling in Ranboo's grip - and then Ranboo caught eyes with Phil, and Tubbo was dropped unceremoniously to the floor with a thump.
"Phil! You're awake!" Ranboo exclaimed in surprise, at the same time as Tubbo rubbed at his head and glared at Ranboo with a, "What the fuck man?"
"How long have you been awake?" Ranboo asked softly, completely ignoring Tubbo's irritated grumbles. Phil stared at him, his mind blanking on the timeframe as he tried to force his breathing to even out. Tubbo shook his head out as he stood, his hair flying everywhere at the movement.
"Not- long," Phil managed around his dry and aching throat.
"We woke you up didn't we?" Ranboo said, chuckling slightly. Phil nodded slowly. Ranboo winced, having the decency to look apologetic, while Tubbo seemed more amused than anything. Little shit. "Sorry about that," Ranboo apologized sheepishly, tail swishing behind him. "Uh, anyways. You want some soup?"
"...what?" Phil croaked. His head was still spinning at how fast he had sat up, spots of color dancing across his vision. In his lap, a crow shook itself out with a short caw - sending a few loose feathers drifting about as it flapped its wings - before carefully crawling up Phil's shirt to settle against his shoulder with a contented warble. It pressed its head into his neck with a huff of content, and Phil absentmindedly brought a hand up to scratch at its neck.
The rest of the crows readjusted themselves with half-hearted grumbles, and Phil found himself cradling them without thought, attention completely on them before he remembered that he had been in the middle of a conversation.
"Soup," Ranboo repeated, as if that answered Phil's question in any way. Phil tried to speak, but was interpreted by a sudden bout of coughs that left him doubled over - head reeling at the force. Ranboo's eyes sparkled in concern, but he waited patiently by Phil's side, a gentle clawed hand resting on his shoulder as he sat.
"You okay?" Ranboo murmured. Phil gave him a tiny nod, briefly squeezing his eyes shut as he leaned his face into the crow at his shoulder. He took in a few deep breaths before finally pulling his face away, blearily blinking at his surroundings.
"How-" Phil stopped to clear his throat. "How did you find me?"
"Ranboo heard you like, yelling, so I went out and saved you," Tubbo explained easily, like he was talking about something mundane rather than Phil’s life. Phil's face heated up in shame at the idea of having to be saved like some damsel in distress, especially by someone so strikingly younger than him, but Tubbo continued anyways, lips twitching into a small frown, "You were really cold, bossman."
"I recognized the call as you, and I wanted to get you myself," Ranboo said, scratching the back of his neck as he studied the floorboards. Phil hummed, memories of strong arms and a voice he could now identify as Tubbo shushing him flitting through his mind.
"Yeah, like a dumbass," Tubbo snorted. Ranboo shot him a playful glare, and Tubbo responded by flipping him off.
"Hey!" Ranboo exclaimed. Tubbo brought his other hand up to flip Ranboo off, and Ranboo responded in turn by leaning forward and swatting at his fingers. Phil watched the display in a confused haze, the exhaustion hanging over him slowing his thoughts so much that he could hardly comprehend why they were so energetic.
"Wasn't I supposed to get a soup?" Phil asked quietly after what was likely thirty seconds of them play-fighting. Ranboo jolted upright, whipping his head over to face Phil - and Tubbo seized the opportunity to return to flipping Ranboo off.
"Oh, right! I'll get on that, sorry," Ranboo nodded to himself before dashing away to what was presumably the kitchen, but Phil couldn't bring himself to turn his head and look. Tubbo's grin slipped away into nothing as he turned to Phil, arms falling down to rest at his side. Phil stared back warily, hugging the crows in his arms closer like they would protect him from Tubbo's words.
"He was really worried about you," Tubbo said quietly, and there was something protective buried in the greenish gray of his eye. "He didn't care that he would get burned by the snow and shit. So don't go messing around and getting hurt again, okay? Ranboo doesn't need to be sad and get himself hurt trying to protect you."
Phil blinked at Tubbo, a huff of laughter forcing itself out of him at the absurdity of the situation. Of all the things, he hasn't expected to be bullied into staying safe as a form of shovel talk. It was reminiscent of the lectures Technoblade would give him after he had nearly died, yet vastly different all the same.
(Phil missed those times, oddly enough. Nearly dying was horrible every time, don't get him wrong, and worrying Technoblade sent a pang of guilt that cut straight to his heart - but it was a reminder that someone cared enough to be concerned for him. Maybe Phil was the fool for not simply asking for the reassurance and instead accidentally throwing himself into dangerous situations, but had long since accepted that part of himself.)
"I'll try," Phil replied, because he had made a vow to himself to stay away from as many broken promises as possible because he knew the hurt behind them. Phil could not promise Tubbo that he would be safe because the reality was that Phil wouldn't be safe. Tubbo seemed satisfied by his answer, nodding at him before vanishing upstairs. Ranboo reappeared with Phil's soup a moment later, holding the bowl out with ease.
Phil accepted it with shaky hands and a thankful smile. It was heavy in his hands, and he nearly dropped it before Ranboo stepped forward to hold it for him with a kind smile. Phil chirped quietly in response; a mix of shame and gratitude bubbling in his chest. It smelled delicious, and Phil allowed himself a moment to enjoy it before he was scarfing it down with a still trembling hand.
"Woah, take it easy," Ranboo chuckled, pulling the bowl away from him with a playful glare. Phil glared half-heartedly back at him, unable to summon the energy to protest. When Ranboo finally deemed him trustworthy, Phil went back to eating, albeit slower this time. It was delicious, and gone all too soon. Ranboo left with the bowl a moment later, singing quietly to himself.
Phil brought his knees to his chest as he leaned into the back of the couch, clutching his crows close as he pressed his nose into their soft feathers. There was a quiet clunking in the kitchen, but Phil ignored it in favour of pulling the blankets tighter around himself - face half hidden by the material. It was soft against sensitive feathers, and with a warm meal in his stomach, Phil could feel himself drift back into the land of unconsciousness.
Phil’s pleasant dozing was interrupted by a sudden, loud, familiar knocking at the door. He jumped out of his skin at the sudden noise - blankets pooling around his waist - hand jerking towards weapons that weren't there as his heart rate spiked. Ranboo's ears flicked up, swishing tail freezing as he became alert. All at once, his kind expression shifted into something colder and harder, eyes glinting with a protective light as he stuck up and moved to the door in a few long strides.
The door was cautiously peeled open, before Ranboo's entire figure visibly brightened, tail wagging in excitement.
"Hey Techno," Ranboo greeted warmly, and Phil froze.
He and Technoblade hadn't spoken in a long, long time. They hadn't even seen each other in weeks - Technoblade still crawling out of the dregs of hibernation. Yet here he was still, likely searching for Phil. A conversation too low for him to catch over the pounding of his head was had, and then Technoblade stepped into the room.
Technoblade's hair fell down in his back in a messy braid, crown and boar skull mask nowhere to be seen, and armor gleaming on his body. His sword hung by his side, held in a white knuckled grip. Technoblade's eyes frantically searched the room, before locking with Phil's.
Phil's breath hitched at the open worry painted across Technoblade's face that melted away at the sight of him, shoulders sagging with a soft sigh. Phil raised a heavy, trembling hand, and gave Technoblade a tiny wave. The crow on Phil's shoulder lifted its head and squawked loudly at Technoblade with a fierce anger that started a laugh out of Phil.
Technoblade crossed the room slowly, coming to a stuttering stop right in front of Phil. Phil swallowed back a cheerful quip, anxiety stirring in his veins.
"You're okay," Technoblade breathed. Phil nodded with a tiny smile, and then Technoblade's hands raised, pausing for only a moment before they were tracing Phil's face. Phil gasped quietly at the contact, eyes widening, and Technoblade stared down in open concern as he thumbed across Phil's cheekbones. His hands were warm, large enough to nearly cover Phil's entire face - and Phil could feel each familiar scar and callous press into his skin and it was nice. Phil found himself leaning into them against his will, eyes fluttering at the contact he had craved for so long.
"You were gone when I woke up," Technoblade explained quietly, "You didn't leave a note or anythin' and you wouldn't respond to any of my messages and I got- I was worried, old man."
It was a quiet admission, whispered into the otherwise silence and followed by a short laugh, and yet Phil knew the weight behind the words. Technoblade's hand moved from Phil's hand to hover over Phil’s wings, not touching yet tracing the air above him. Technoblade went to fully place his hand, but hesitated. It was a question, a request for permission - and an olive branch all the same. Because ever since the 16, both Phil's self isolation and Technoblade's hibernation had left them more distant than ever, only exchanging glances and making awkward small talk ever so often. Letting someone touch your wings was a sign of great trust.
And when had Phil's trust in Technoblade ever wavered?
Phil managed a tiny smile as he lifted his wing to gently press it against Technoblade’s hand. Technoblade traced the feathers wordlessly, brows pinching in worry as he passed the burnt feathers. His mouth opened around words that didn't escape, but Phil couldn't bring himself to respond to his wordless question - mind still clouded with exhaustion. Phil nuzzled his nose into Technoblade’s palm that still held his face, sinking into the couch below him at the gentle touch he had missed oh so greatly.
"Hey Technoblade," Tubbo's meek voice spoke up suddenly, and Technoblade jolted away from Phil like he had been burned. Phil choked down a whine at the sudden loss of contact, forcing himself to sit back upright as he blinked away the sleepiness that clung to him. Technoblade went as far to take a step away from Phil, awkwardly folding his arms across his chest - and while Phil knew it was a pride thing more than it was a Phil thing, it still stung, because it had only been a few months, surely they hadn't drifted that far apart, had they? Surely things hadn't gone so far.
"Tubbo," Technoblade greeted stiffly. Phil frowned, hugging the crows in his arms a little closer as he tried to push down the hurt at the blatant disregard.
"Nice to uh, see you here," Tubbo said awkwardly. Technoblade nodded at him, and the tension in the air was uncomfortably thick and palpable. Phil shifted in his seat, words spilling onto his tongue yet refusing to leave his mouth. They all stared at each other blankly, until there were quick footsteps thudding out, and Micheal appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Technoblade did a double take at him, and Ranboo appeared at Ranboo's side a moment later.
"Uh, who-?"
"This is Micheal," Ranboo hurried to explain, taking a protective step forward to block Micheal from sight. Micheal leaned around Ranboo's calf to peer at Technoblade anyways as Ranboo continued, "He's uh. Me and Tubbo's son?"
Technoblade slowly blinked at Ranboo, glancing from Ranboo, to Micheal, to Tubbo, before finally shooting Phil a baffled glance. Phil shrugged at him, moving his eyes down to a crow as he gently petted it. Its feathers were soft under his fingers,
"Did you know about this?" Technoblade asked, confusion coloring his voice. Phil couldn’t blame him, really - he had been equally as confused when he heard about them.
"Yeah," Phil said, almost missing the way Technoblade's eyebrows shot up into his hairline in surprise. He supposed it was warranted, considering they normally told each other practically everything.
"Wait, why Tubbo of all people?" Technoblade asked, turning back to Ranboo. Ranboo laughed nervously, tail twisting around Micheal as his ears twisted back nervously.
"Oh, we uh. We're maybe just, a little married?" Ranboo said slowly, voice pitching up. Technoblade blinked at them, taking a moment to collect himself.
"...heh?" Technoblade asked. Tubbo burst into cackles as Ranboo tried to sputter out an explanation, all the while Micheal stared up at Technoblade in open awe.
Phil watched them with a tiny smile on his face, and thought maybe, just maybe, things were gonna be okay.
(Later, Tubbo would chuck a pancake at Technoblade's face, and Phil would rethink his conclusion just a little bit.)