Chapter Text
No matter how many times Phil hears that familiar click of a gun loading, he can never stop the shiver that runs down his spine
“...Wil?”
No, no, no…
“You’re not coming with us, Phil.”
Please, not again…
“Hand over your weapons.”
His son, his pride and joy-
“You’re gonna stay right here, Phil.”
It was his fault, he failed him…
“Wilbur, please, whatever this is- whatever you want, you can have it. The ship, the hat- just- don’t do this.”
Please, Wilbur!
“I’m sorry, dad.”
No.
“Goodbye, Phil.”
No, please, Wil! Come back, Wilbur I’m so sorry- Please, please-
...
“Wil-!” Phil shot up with a gasp.
His breaths came hard and fast, following his pounding heart and steadily dripping eyes. With each shuddering inhale, his surroundings slowly morphed from the haunting room at that port to his now suffocating quarters.
Goddamnit , he thought, wiping his face with his weathered hands. Just another nightmare. One more to add to the seemingly unending pile of torturous memories tonight.
It wasn’t like Phil didn’t deserve it. Gods , he did.
His life now… it isn’t him. It’s been too perfect. He’s bound to fuck up, whether it be his curse or-
Or what happened with Wilbur.
Whatever it ended up being, something was going to happen. The other shoe has to drop, and honestly? Phil’s not sure he could survive another loss.
His spiraling thoughts are cut off by his door swinging open with a loud bang .
“Phil?”
Oh, thank the gods , a small part of Phil whispered as he looked over at his friend. Technoblade’s face was a mix of worry, defiance, and something else he couldn’t place. The captain was in his nightclothes, a simple white, buttoned shirt and tan pants, but his stance would have proved anyone otherwise. He was poised to pounce, cutlass in hand and pistol in the other. Phil would have laughed if he didn’t remember the state he was currently in.
Phil smiled shakily and wiped his face one more time, hiding the last few tears that had fallen. “Hey, mate…” he whispered, ducking his head. No use pretending now considering he was still a shaking mess.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Technoblade unwind his tense posture and lower the weapons. A beat of silence settled, thick and stifling before his friend sighed and sat on the end of the hammock. Phil kept his eyes trained on his lap, too ashamed to face him. It was stupid, he was just overreacting and in the end, he’d just have another nightmare anyways. Nothing can stop them, so why get so upset-
A cold touch on his hand shook him out of his head, shocking him into finally looking up. Technoblade had his prosthetic hand on his own and was giving him a small comforting smile. And gods, how did he know exactly what to do? Just a simple touch and his brain stills, breaths come easier, and his heart slows.
“...You okay?” his friend murmurs. “I heard a shout.” Phil chuckles humorlessly, ducking his head and nodding. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m okay just- y'know…”
“Nightmares?”
Phil hummed in response, taking his unoccupied hand and rubbing his eyes before resting it there. He was so tired, but sleep was something he just couldn’t face right now. He’d just get sucked into an endless whirl of every mistake he’s ever made, every person he’s ever hurt. Even long-lost memories would be ruthlessly dragged to the front of his mind, twisting and filling in forgotten gaps with gruesome details.
So, yeah, sleep isn’t an option.
Technoblade scooted a bit closer- an offer and one that Phil gladly took as he leaned onto his friend’s side and buried his face into his shoulder. A soft, shuddering sigh escaped his lips as arms wrapped around his middle and pulled his still shaking form closer. They stayed like that for a moment, letting the gesture speak for itself before Technoblade spoke.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Did he? Did he want to spill all his spinning thoughts onto his friend? A man he gave his position to? A man he chose over his-
Phil shook his head wearily, already feeling the clutches of sleep pull at him again. It had probably been days, maybe even weeks, since the last good night of sleep. Frankly, he was scared to even try. He would just get woken up anyways.
A hand moved to his hair, and he leaned into the touch as helpless tears pricked at his eyes. Phil couldn’t cry now. He’d held it for so long, one bad night ruining it was just embarrassing. More like 20…
“I just-” his voice broke and he swallowed thickly. “ I’m so tired , but I- I just can’t...”
His friend hummed in response and held him tighter. Phil hesitantly returned the embrace, gripping onto Technoblade’s shirt and taking deep, deliberate breaths. The adrenaline had fully left him now, leaving lingering fear and intense exhaustion. He was battling to stay awake, but the surrounding warmth was persistent.
“Sleep,” the captain lightheartedly commanded, and as if expecting Phil’s refusal, continued. “I’ll be here. Just- please, sleep.”
He didn’t have to tell Phil twice.
-~-~-~-~-
There’s a saying, “Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.”
And now, staring out at the glorious sunset before the unlikely pair, Phil could say with confidence that this was true. Of course, it wasn’t because of the intended message behind the saying. Instead, it was the soft rocking of the Argo as it made its way North. It was the glow of warmth from the natural lighting that ricocheted off the wine-colored sea. But most of all, it was Technoblade beside him, gazing at the sea with a calm Phil has rarely seen in him and a soft smile.
Moments like these were familiar recently. There wasn’t always a Navy ship to sink or a stowaway to discover, so the monotonous and yet unique days at sea filled the background. They were like a golden frame on the canvas that would hold the ship’s daring tale. A breath between verses.
“I never used to enjoy sunsets before I saw the sea.” Technoblade breaks the silence. The first mate eases his eyes from the view to glance again at his friend. His smile has dampened, leaving an unreadable expression in its wake. Something like nostalgia sits heavy in his eyes, not quite longing but not quite resentment. The captain’s eyes met his before he shifted and continued.
“My parents were in the trading business and they had to take a trip to a nearby port to help oversee the goods being loaded. I was probably fourteen, maybe fifteen, and they decided I had to go with them,” Technoblade scoffed in mock annoyance. “They said it was ‘to learn the family business’ or something of the sort.” Phil chuckled at the thought, prompting his friend to elbow him playfully. The mighty Captain Blade being stuck in a room and calculating trades was a laughable possibility. A content sigh passed Technoblade’s lips and he leaned further on the rail.
“And then…”
There’s that smile.
“I saw the sea.”
“ Gods , it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I remember rounding the corner of a building and just being hit with the glorious evening ocean, ships coming and going, gulls screeching overhead, and the sun transforming the water into a mirror of the sky.” He waved his hand excitedly, painting this picturesque scene. Phil could only fondly smile and admire the pure awe his friend described. Technoblade leaned back and sighed, eyes closed.
“It was glorious. From then on, I knew I had to sail. My parents got me an apprentice job under a Navy captain and well…” He gestured to the Argo, “Now I’m here.” His previous bright grin morphed into something more reserved but just as sentimental as he looked around the ship. Phil offered a small smile before looking back at the scenery. His memories were swirling around, fighting for a place in his mouth until one finally escaped into the silence.
“I was supposedly born at sunset,” He said, leaning his head on his hand. At that, his friend turned back around and Phil could feel his gaze.
“My mother used to joke that’s why I was so rebellious. Something about astrology, or- I dunno…” He trailed off into a soft chortle and turned everything but his eyes to face his friend. Technoblade was still watching him carefully, barely moving, barely breathing , as he stood.
“My father, on the other hand,” he said with a groan, “He said that was the reason my hair was so light. That the gold from the sun shot through the window and turned my hair blonde. My mother thought that was foolish, but then again, he thought the same of her ‘star stuff’.
“The rest of the crew got tired of the bickering and voted to nickname me Sunsprite. A ‘healthy mix’ of mischief and gold. Ever since everyone would watch the sunset with my parents and me. I don’t even remember a day we didn’t watch it. We watched it every single day until-” His jaw locked. His eyes widened and a hand subconsciously traced the scar under his collarbone.
He hadn’t-
He didn’t mean-
“...Until?” A soft voice prompted. Phil’s eyes flicked to the source. Technoblade’s face was a tortured mix of concern, grief, and anger. His brown eyes moved back and forth between making eye contact and looking at the hand on his shoulder. Supportive, reassuring.
But still…
“I think you know, mate,” he mutters, turning away from the sky and his friend. Phil couldn’t say it. Not again. He couldn’t describe the ice-cold fear of the Navy soldiers breaking down the door again. He couldn’t detail the dingy brig that he was stuck in or why no brig has felt the same again. And gods , he couldn’t talk about the men holding him down and raising the hot metal above him as he screamed and-
A hand grasped his shoulder overtop his own.
“I do,” Technoblade whispers. Phil let out a breath and shook his head. He doesn’t, but it’s a nice thought. He wishes he could have someone who knew everything, who could empathize perfectly. At the same time, the thought of his friend chained in the same cell he was kept in, celebrating a bittersweet birthday while awaiting death, made his chest ache and his stomach turn.
He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but especially not Technoblade.
Silence settled as the unspoken words registered. Only reds and blues remained in the sky and the light began to fade around them, but still, they stood, hand on hand.
“Sunsets can be ours.”
Phil lifted his head and inhaled sharply. Slowly, he turned to face his friend with a puzzled expression.
“What?”
The captain was smiling and staring at the ocean again, still concerned but calm in demeanor. Even after Phil dropped his, he kept a tight grip on Phil’s shoulder with his good hand. It was grounding, warm. He met the first mate’s gaze.
“No matter what happened,” Technoblade whispers, “no matter what will happen, we can always have sunsets as ours. Just us, on this ship, on this sea.”
Phil took a shuddering inhale and looked back out at the carnelian scene. Red skies really were a delight.
“Yeah,” he choked out, “Yeah, I’d like that…”
-~-~-~-~-
“ Oh, Captain Blade~” Phil sang down playfully, dragging out the ‘a’.
An annoyed grunt answered him from the deck and he cackled. It was a bit unfair, making his clumsy, one-handed friend come up to the crow’s nest with him, but he felt lazy and mischievous. A strong gust of wind blew his unsecured hair into his face and he pulled it back with his hand. Even with the wind, Technoblade had done it before, he can do it again.
Just as that thought entered his head, a barely cut-off yelp cried below him followed by another grunt. Phil peeked over the side and was met with a very irritated captain glaring at him. He looked like a cat stuck in a tree, clinging to the ladder as if it would snap at any moment. It took everything in Phil not to immediately burst out laughing, instead just giggling.
“Hey, you-” a fit of giggles cut him off as he raised his arm, “You need a hand?”
Silence spanned across the two, one glaring and one smirking, waiting to see who would break first.
Only moments later, Phil snorted loudly and finally released the hysterical laughter. Technoblade only scoffed lightheartedly and continued his careful ascent. His laughter only died down when he felt a sharp elbow nudge his side, coughing and finally gasping a full breath. His friend was bright red in the face and slightly out of breath, but the smile dusting his lips leaked his real emotions. Once they both caught their breaths, Phil stood up and leaned on the railing.
“So…” Technoblade started, “why did you want me to come up here again?”
“No reason, just thought it’d be funny.”
“ You’re kidding. ”
“Nope.” Phil teased, popping the ‘p’. He heard an exasperated sigh behind him and the creak of the weathered wood as his friend joined his side. Technoblade was well aware of the mischief his first mate could cause, he even found it charming in a fond sort of way. He was never truly mad at Phil for the occasional hijinx or prank, just playfully scolded.
The wind whipped by and again Phil’s hair hit his face. With an annoyed groan, he pushed it back again, earning an amused look from his friend.
“Where’s the usual ponytail?”
“Funny story, actually…” he muttered, “A little feathered friend of ours took the hair tie.” As if on queue, Brian let out a booming caw and swooped upwards with the wind, landing gracefully on Phil’s shoulder. Technoblade’s shoulders shook with laughter and it was his turn to elbow his friend with his unoccupied arm.
“Y’know-” he said, giggles interrupting his words, “you don’t need a hair tie.” At Phil’s confused glance, he gestured towards his long braid behind him. True to his word, there was no tie at the end, only a small loop of salmon-colored hair that kept everything together. The style was frankly impressive how intricate the interlacing hair was, looping in and out of sight in a repetitive yet intentional pattern. It was nothing like the simple sailors’ knots he had been taught over the years. These were more sophisticated, cascading down his back like a string of pearls.
His face must have betrayed his awe because Technoblade tilted his head and quirked an eyebrow. “What? You’ve never seen a braid or somethin’?”
“Nothing like this…!” Phil exclaimed with a shake of his head, startling Brian off his arm and onto the railing. A sudden thought stilled his motion. “Wait, how did you do it with only-?”
“-one working hand?” Technoblade finished, smirking and holding up his prosthetic. He shrugged and leaned on the balcony. “Y’get used to it after a while.” Phil hummed in agreement, not pushing any further. They both knew a lot about each other's pasts, but there were invisible lines that neither dared to come close to. Conversations about the Navy were cut as short and brief as possible and conversations about brigs were almost unheard of. Thin, impossible lines that the pair fought to not cross.
“So… you want me to?”
“Want you to what?
“Do your hair, duh ,” his friend rolled his eyes. Phil let out a silent ‘oh’ before shrugging and sitting with his back to him. The wood creaked and a thud sounded behind him before a calloused hand cautiously brushed through the golden strands. He tensed for the briefest moment before relaxing into the warmth that just barely graced his neck. The hand nor its owner paid any attention to this, only continuing its repetitive motion over and over again. It was steady, seemingly in time with everything around them. The rocking of the sea, the faint whistling from below deck, his heartbeat; they met like a chorus of drums, weaving a soft and subtle melody.
Phil opened his eyes, barely realizing he had closed them. Brian quietly preened just above him, carefully sliding each feather into place with instinctual precision. He wondered again what it would feel like to have wings and the duty to upkeep them. It didn’t seem uncomfortable or as if it was a chore. It looked special, sacred almost. Birds use preening as a sort of bonding, so it had to be something more.
He almost envied it before realizing it wasn’t unlike what Technoblade was doing now. His careful hand took section by section of hair and slid it into its place as if it was meant to be placed there. Warm fingers grazed his neck and down his back, accidental but not uncomfortable. There was something intimate about the silence that flowed between them, not broken by the occasional sigh or rustle of hair but rather they integrated into the quiet itself.
It was the calmest Phil’s been in a while.
As quick as it began, the hands tucked the last inch into the previous knot and pulled away. His chest ached to protest at the loss of warmth, but he only allowed a soft sigh to pass his lips as he turned back towards his friend. Technoblade had his eyes closed, opening quickly once he realized Phil was watching. He blushed and turned his face to the water with an awkward laugh.
“Y’ like it?” he said as he stood up and stretched. Phil reached a hand back and felt along the small braid. It was much simpler than Technoblade’s, thinner too. Even so, it still had an air of beauty to it. Phil felt a content flutter in his chest and he grinned mischievously.
“It’s alright, I suppose…”
“ That’s all I get?!”
“I give it a 7/10, could use some work.”
“ Bruh .”