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When Technoblade awakes, he wakes to the realization that he is oddly cold. There is no warmth lying on the sleeping pack next to his, no soft, delicate wing draped over his body as if it were a blanket. No Phil. Though, he is not a babysitter, and would not treat his partner like a child. Not while they’re on their way to participate in what would be one of the bigger battles of their lives. That thought does not stifle his instincts, however, as they call for his sounder, his bastionmate, to return.
He yawns, and stretches, and shakes himself into a sitting position. It is still dark outside, the slivers of light that came with the sunrise barely slipping through the beige flaps of the tent. Technoblade wonders what Phil could be doing up at this hour. True, they woke quite early so as to rouse the rest of the army (not that they needed much more than themselves) and get a move on, but never this early. Not unless- Never unless something was wrong.
So, Technoblade deduced, something must be wrong. Surely it would have to be, for Phil to wake in such early hours and leave Technoblade. Then, why had he not been awoken?
Muttering softly to himself, he kicked his legs out of his sleeping pack. He glanced down at his sleep clothes, which consisted of a loose white shirt, and just black pants. Pretty similar to what he normally wore, minus the bling. He didn’t bother changing. What he did bother to do, however, was pick up a golden gilded brush sitting nearby, and run it through his hair a few times, throwing it back into a loose ponytail before reaching to the other side of his pack, where his sword lay.
Grasping it, he stood, pushing the tent flaps aside and pulling himself outside.
“Your Majesty.” One of the two guards stationed outside the tent greeted him. He tried not to jump, still a bit hazy-brained from being caught out of a deep slumber. Nodding at the two of them, he cleared his throat, hoping to clear at least some of the sleepiness from his tone.
“Either of you know where Commander Philza ran off to, or what he’s doin’?”
The guards spared each other a glance before turning back to their emperor. One of them finally spoke up upon meeting Techno’s impatient gaze.
“Ah, yes, Your Majesty. He walked off that way,” The guard accompanied his statement with a gesture off to the right, directly into the forest they were camped next to, “and told us not to disturb him.”
“And when did he do this? Was he alone?” Technoblade persisted.
“About an hour ago, Your Majesty. A few of his crows followed him, but as far as we know, he was completely alone besides that.”
Technoblade let out a fond huff, thanking the two of them before he turned towards where Phil had supposedly disappeared to. Because of course nothing was wrong, of course it was just Phil getting up in the middle of the night to go out into the middle of the woods by himself. Technoblade told himself that nothing was wrong. Nothing could be wrong, or one of Phil’s crows would have come cawing directly into his ear. They’d done it before, and the last time they’d done it…Technoblade shuddered.
Instead of continuing down his thought process he took a step towards the woods.
The grass prickled at his hooves. It was damp, dewy drops springing off the taller blades to land on his lower legs. The breeze was cold, and as he inhaled, he could smell so many things. The campfires burning around the field, dying embers from most of them, the remnants of the food that had been cooked the night before, the trees, the flowers. He smiled, and couldn’t help but wonder at how beautiful the night was.
He finally made his way to the edge of the forest, pausing at the very verge of entering. His heart thumped in his chest, in tune with the crickets and the calls of various birds up in the trees. He took in a breath, and stepped in.
Weaving between the trees, he kept an eye out for Phil’s tracks. A snapped twig here and there, crushed grass where his bare feet had tread, perhaps a feather or two from his wings, or his crows.
Then suddenly, a soft sound. The crooning of a bird, albeit much louder. Too loud to have come from an actual bird.
Techno froze, lifting his gaze from the ground only to be met with a sight that made his heart melt.
Phil lay on his back in a small clearing, centered in an uneven circle of trees. He was still in his sleep clothes, much like Technoblade himself. He was also barefoot, which was- very Phil-like, Techno had to admit as he stifled a slight giggle.
The mans wings were spread around him to their full length, and Techno could only gaze upon them in awe. The inky black feathers were gorgeous, they looked as if they had swallowed the night sky, even down to the stars. Gods, they resembled the void, in their mystery and their unending beauty.
Phil was much the same, in that mystery, that sense of beauty, though in a much different way. He was sprawled out, arms crossed behind his head as he lay on them. His shoulder length blond hair messy and hanging loose, except for a bit in the front that had been taken and messily thrown into a braid. A crow was perched by his head, carefully tucking flowers into the braid, even as Phil cooed and crooned his approval. Phil’s eyes were closed, a smile spread on his lips.
And gods, wasn’t he a sight to behold. Technoblade felt humbled by the fact that this was his friend, that Phil was his and that he was Phil’s.
And then Phil’s eyes were open, and icy blue met crimson, and Technoblade was striding forward with a smile on his face. Phil raised a hand towards him, that sparkle in his eyes that he always got when he was content. Techno reached out as well, and their fingers intertwined, like puzzle pieces fitting together. Like that’s how they were supposed to be, like that’s how they were made to be.
Phil shifted his wing, flopping onto his side and allowing space for Techno to shift onto his knees next to him.
“Hey, Angel.” Techno murmured, sinking to his knees and lifting Phil’s hand to his lips, brushing careful kisses across his knuckles.
“Hey, T’ch.” Phil responded. Techno had to hold back a giggle at how obviously bird-brained Phil was feeling right now. He couldn’t help but be pleased about that, considering usually the only times Phil got like this were the times when he was either happy out of his mind, or had just had a brush with Death herself.
He lifted his other hand to brush a strand of hair behind Phil’s ear, his hand hovering for a moment before finally resting on Phil’s jaw. A gentle touch, one that Phil leaned into with a soft noise.
Before Techno knew it, there was an arm snaking around his waist, dragging him onto the ground next to Phil. He chuckled, shifting so he could pull Phil into his arms. The avian didn’t put up too much of a protest, now distracted by a few misplaced strands of Technoblade’s hair.
“You been out here long?” Techno asked gently, moving his hand to card through Phil’s feathers with a sort of reverence in his touch.
“Not too long, mate.” Phil sighed, resting his head against Techno’s chest. “It’s nice out here. ‘S quiet.”
Ah.
“Yeah. It is.” He hummed his approval, tightening his embrace around Phil. He relished the quiet trills, chirps, and coos he was able to elicit as he preened his partners wings, even as Phil began combing his hands through Techno’s hair. He could feel his hair being pulled into a braid, and could only chuckle, leaning forward for a moment to press a kiss to Phil’s brow.
“Miss you.” Phil muttered, and Techno knew what he meant. They’d both been so busy lately, with planning the upcoming battle and signing documents and just work, they hadn’t had a moment to themselves, to talk. The only time they really saw each other was when one would tiredly climb into bed, usually followed by the other. They’d cling to each other, then, before one had to get up and leave early in the morning.
“I missed you too, Phil.” He murmured, adding on, “I love you.”
“L’ve you too, mate.” Phil sighed, letting his head droop to rest on Techno’s chest, above where his heart was. Eventually Techno let his hand drop and traced his fingers over Phil’s hand, over the gold band that signified their union. He was content with just letting himself enjoy the quiet, just trying to remember the last time it had been this simple between the two of them. Nothing political, just them.
Eventually the steady breathes coming from Phil changed to whistling snores and sleepy chirps. Techno didn’t have it in himself to move, and wake Phil up.
So he lay there, in the quiet, content to just hold his soulmate in his arms.