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It shouldn’t be much of a surprise that they have known each other as long as they have. To them both, more than half their lives have been at each other’s sides – blades held tight in their hands and their backs against one another, always ready to fight, always ready to protect. If Phil were honest, and he often made sure to be, their lives have revolved around one another for longer than even he remembers.
It has always been Phil-and-Techno; Techno-and-Phil. They have always known each other better than they have known themselves. Codependency, some would say, but neither he or Techno have ever minded.
(After all, in a world that looks at them both with fear — it is easier to stay by each other.)
So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that when Techno finally woke up from hibernation Phil was almost instantly by his side. What did come as a surprise, however, was the way Techno gasped for breath as he woke. What did come as a surprise, in the end, was how his eyes were dazed and he didn’t seem to recognise Phil when he rushed over to his oldest friend with the intent to come and help him. What left them both still and wide eyed was how Techno stumbled out of bed, meeting Phil’s eyes, and grabbed at Phil’s throat with sharp claws that Phil didn’t expect to have to escape.
Phil did not move.
His wings stilled, even as they fought to thrash and escape. He fought against every instinct that hated being caged, and he did not breathe, lest Techno’s claws dig in deeper with the movement.
Movemovemove, he is going to kill you, you need to escape. His instincts screamed, and it felt like every inch of him was trying to rebel against him.
He did not move.
He doesn’t know how long it takes – doesn’t count the seconds between Techno’s bright, dazed eyes looking down at him like he’s prey in a way the other man never has. He doesn’t know how long it takes, but eventually Techno blinks once, twice, and then scrambles away from him with his claws close to his chest as if burnt.
Phil keeps still, but only for a moment.
His hand reaches up to his neck as he pulls himself from the ground and comes away red, and can’t help the quiet, unsure trill that leaves his mouth. Carefully, he wipes away the blood onto the darkest part of his clothing and hopes that it doesn’t continue to bleed. And then, with focus he has trained into himself after decades, he moves his attention to Technoblade.
His friend remains against the side of his bed, curled in on himself in a way that looks wrong considering the way both his size and presence have always been larger than life. The room is small enough that even if Phil was further away he would still be able to see the tremors that ran through Techno’s body in a way that could only ever be unnatural, and Techno’s wide eyes remained pinned on him with a fear that, in all Phil’s life alongside the man, he has only ever seen a few times before.
To see it directed at him—
Phil exhales shakily and takes a step forward. He doesn’t allow any hesitation to hinder his steps.
(“Hey, Techno?”
“Yeah, Phil?”
Phil breathes, and he looks up at the falling sun above them, “Do you ever have nightmares? You always seem so… relaxed when you wake up. I know you’re fine with blood, this war has proven that, but even you have to have dreams about what we see, right?”
Next to him, Techno hums. It’s a considering sound and it’s almost quiet enough that Phil doesn’t even hear it against the quiet of the war torn valley around them.
“Not really.” Techno says eventually, “But then again, I don’t think piglins really dream? Sorry, Phil.”
Phil laughs, shakes his head.
“All good, mate. It wasn’t important, I was just curious, you know?”
Techno snorts.
“Aren’t you always?”)
He shakes away the memories.
It’s only as he gets closer that he begins to see the way Techno’s hands are pressed against the golden lines that coat the side of his neck and arms. He finds himself relieved to see Techno’s claws carefully placed away from his skin, and all at once Phil’s drops to his knees in front of his longest and most trusted friend.
Techno tries to skitter back but the bed behind him stops any progress he tries to make.
It’s terrifying to watch, Phil thinks.
(Such a powerful man, trembling like this. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to try and help.)
Gently, he inhales, and he grabs hold of one of Techno’s hands. Techno doesn’t flinch away and to Phil– well, that’s all that matters. With a care learnt from decades at his friends side he maneuvers Techno’s hand until it’s rested against his chest. Every part of Techno’s body seems to still, frozen in place as he realises how close his hand is to Phil’s heart. Neither of them move.
And then, all at once, Technoblade struggles to pull himself away. His eyes go wide, pupils mere pinpricks, but Phil holds steady. He doesn’t let Techno move, even when the struggle is bruising and Phil knows his hand will be proof of his decision later that day when it turns dark from the pressure. He finds he doesn’t care, and knows that will remain true for as long as he lives.
(After all, for Techno— he thinks he would do anything.)
He waits it out, lets Techno feel his heart beating, and he doesn’t move away. Eventually, Techno’s struggle stops, and his body falls limp. His head drops against Phil’s shoulder and stays there. He presses as close to Phil as he can get, unrepentant in his actions, and Phil gently reaches up the hand not holding Techno’s to comb through the coarse fur on the back of Techno’s neck.
For a long, long moment, it is quiet. And then Phil hears the rumbles echoing through Techno’s throat and holds back his relieved sigh. He lets out a chirrup of contentment and closes his eyes and rests his head against the side of Techno’s. Techno adjusts himself so he is nearly on top of Phil’s lap and despite the weight of the piglin he doesn’t mind it at all.
Neither of them speak for a long time, but it’s okay.
Neither of them mind.
For now, they sit. For now, Techno slowly begins to properly wake up. For now, they lay against each other with a closeness borne of years at one another’s side, and that is more than enough.
(For now, they stay.)
(“What about you, Phil? Nightmares something you’re troubled by?” Techno asks, gently nudging his arm. They don’t look at each other, even now, and perhaps that says everything.
Phil laughs again.
“No, not really. After all, I’ve got you to fight them off! And Wilbur has always been good at keeping those memories away, so it’s never been too bad. Kid’s a menace, but I don’t know where I’d be without him.” Phil smiles, and Techno leans over and knocks their foreheads together. “Hey, what was that for, mate?”
“We’re going home soon, Phil. Not long now.” Techno tells him, voice quieter than usual.
Phil breaths.
“No, not long now.”)
“It was like I could still feel it.” Techno tells him, eventually, when his rumbling finally dies down and he is no longer shaking. “The anvil, that is.”
“ Fuck, mate. I’m sorry. But you’re safe now, yeah? You know that?” Phil asks back, pressing their foreheads together. Techno nudges him back and doesn’t move away even as he nods in answer.
“I’m glad.” He whispers into the top of Technoblade's head, “Never forget that. I’ll always be here to remind you if you do.”
They have known each other for years now.
(“Do you think you can sleep alone tonight?”
“Yeah. Thank you, Phil.”)
They know when each other is lying.
(Technoblade doesn’t die. At this point, it’s just a fact of life. Phil understands it with a precision that no one else ever could, and it should be as simple as that. In the end, they know everything and nothing about each other and that is how it will always be.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that they have known each other as they have, but people look at them fighting back-against-back and they still can’t hide their shock.
Technoblade doesn’t die.
Just as well, Phil thinks, horrified, and watches the golden glow of the totem encapsulate the area. Technoblade meets his eyes amidst the chaos, and it has always been as simple as that. Phil doesn’t look away, not until Techno is long out of sight.
He knows there will be nightmares tonight.)
Technoblade has always been bigger than him, but his wings have always been bigger. He wraps his feathers around them both and guides them to the bed as Technoblade gently purrs into the silence. He chirps back, and the lights outside flicker and die.
Phil doesn’t let go.
There will be no nightmares here, not tonight.
Not if he has anything to say about it.