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It's eleven P.M. on a Friday, and Technoblade really wants to go home.
He doesn't have a bedtime per say, but he's nowhere near his apartment and he knows that if the night keeps going the way it's going, he won't be able to get a hotel room this late.
It's late and he's tired, but Philza looks like he's about to drop any second now, and no man gets left behind.
They're looking for paperwork, paperwork so important no one bothered to digitalise it, and really at this point Techno is just following Phil around for moral support, because the rest of the office has left, and no one seemed to be as concerned with Philza's sanity as he was.
He hasn't even been working here that long, and he's literally known Philza for only three weeks, but the man has been recently promoted to section supervisor and that apparently entails the entire office turning against him.
It's stupid, and Technoblade doesn't understand why it's happening, but if the past three hours of unpaid overtime he's doing are anything to go by, he's not abandoning Phil anytime soon.
After checking what must be the hundredth file cabinet, Philza squeezes the bridge of his nose and if Techno hadn't seen him fearlessly stand up to the regional manager two weeks ago, he'd think he'd be close to tears.
Phil glances at the big clock for the fiftieth time tonight, and looks at Techno, with a look on his face that doesn't hint at anything good.
"Mate, I really appreciate you staying here with me, but wouldn't you rather go home?"
"Nah, man, it's fine. I'm not leaving until you find the file. You'd lose your mind."
Philza gives a weak chuckle. Then he jumps up with renewed energy, and a wild look in his eyes.
"Holy shit! I just remembered I may have a copy of it in my office!"
"Bruuuh, you mean it's been here in your office the whole time?!"
Philza looks at him sideways, a confused smile on his face.
"I meant my home office, you know, in my house?"
Right, people have offices in their house.
"Okay, yeah that makes sense."
Philza laughs, "You still wanna come with, mate? You could go home."
"And leave all the fun to you? I would never."
And just like that he realises he's just accepted the invite to his kinda-boss' house.
______________
Philza's house isn't big but it sure is cosy. It looks lived in, with clutter in every angle, and colourful fingerpaint on the walls.
The couch looks lived in as well. It also looks to have a child on it. Phil's child. Whose babysitter has already spent an extra three hours with and has now left.
And who is silently judging him from his spot on the couch.
Philza ruffles the kid's hair and kisses his forehead, and that alone seems enough to recharge the man's willpower.
He turns to Techno with an apologetic smile.
"Would you mind keeping an eye on Wil while I go through the files in my office? He's pretty tired already so he shouldn't be too much of a problem."
Now, Technoblade knows his limits, he knows not to attempt something he knows he won't be good at, and children are something he's never been able to deal with. But Philza is unknowingly giving him puppy eyes (or at least he hopes it's unknowingly, or else he's going to have to add guilt tripping to Phil's list of talents). And Techno is apparently not immune to his puppy eyes.
So…he agrees to babysit. No big deal.
Wil studies him as Techno makes the quick decision to sit next to him on the worn couch.
"What's your name?" The child is glaring. Techno has no idea why he's glaring.
"Uh, Technoblade."
"That's a weird name. Do you want to see my drawings?"
"Uh, Sure."
Wil gathers the papers on the coffee table, neatly piling them - or as neatly as he can manage.
The drawings have vaguely recognizable shapes, cliché figures of what a hedgehog is supposed to look like talking to each other through speech bubbles.
The boy looks at him, obviously waiting for a reaction, and he tries to show his interest on his face.
"It's good, your drawings are really, uh, original."
On the corner of the pages, the kid has signed his name, "Wilbur" like a professional artist, clearly showing more talent for calligraphy than drawing.
Wil squints at him and seems to have completed his analysis of his character, because he starts chattering at him.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No, I-"
"My dad has a girlfriend, you know, she visits sometimes. She's really nice! They sit at the table and drink red juice. I'm not allowed to have any though, I tried it once and it tasted really bad, so I don't know why grown-ups drink it. My dad also has a sword here somewhere, I could show you, but he moved it and I don't know where he put it now."
Wilbur continues his monologue while Techno looks through the papers the child has handed him, growing confusion at the fact that the kid's ability at writing seems to stop at his own name, the rest of his writing being illegible chicken scratch.
He notices with a strange note of fondness that Wilbur's name is actually written like it's an attempted copy of Philza's handwriting.
The boy goes back to drawing, chattering away at him as Techno gives vague noises from time to time to show he's listening.
He can hear Phil talking upstairs, probably on a phone call, and selfishly revels in the fact that he's not in Philza's shoes right now.
He knows their superiors are tough to deal with, he probably wouldn't have been hired if Phil wasn't technically on the board and saw through him, saw through the long pink hair and the rough exterior and actually fucking read his credentials.
He knows that Phil's under a lot of stress, that his slight promotion was probably an excuse to push more work on him.
He knew all this when he saw the office turn on him. But with the added knowledge that this man has a son, who can't be older than six, Technoblade is surprised this man hasn't cracked yet.
Said son has now gathered his knees to his chest, tiredly rubbing his eyes, his previously animated speech progressively slowing down and being interrupted by incessant yawns.
It's adorable.
It gets considerably less adorable the second Wilbur's head drops on his shoulder and Techoblade is trapped on the couch by a sleeping child.
He tries to be as still as he can, terrified of waking him. But as he hears a crash from upstairs, he realises with no little gratitude that Wilbur is a heavy sleeper.
Slowly, and careful not to make any sudden movements, he gets up and scoops the child in his arms, not wanting to leave him unattended, as he makes his way to Phil.
Techno pauses at the open door to the office, hoping he can catch Philza's eye without making any noise, and sure enough Philza turns to him from his place on the paper covered floor.
Philza's eyes immediately soften upon seeing Wilbur and he walks closer to them, careful not to step on any documents.
He caresses his son's cheek, tucking a strand of his dark curly hair behind his ear.
Techno is not prepared for the sincerity in Phil's voice when he says, "Thank you, mate, really. Today would've been hell without you."
His voice nearly cracks, "No problem, dude. You would have done the same thing."
"Still."
There's a moment where they just stay like that, in silence, Wilbur cradled in Techno's arms and Phliza gently stroking his son's forehead with the thumb of the hand he's cupping the boy's head with.
Both of them are standing in the doorway, the pale light of the office illuminating Philza's tired face, and Technoblade doesn't feel like he's intruding in the moment, for the first time he feels part of it.
The phone ringing on the desk breaks the gentle quiet, and Phil looks back at it, exhaustion marking his every feature.
"I'll put him to bed, okay?" Techno reassures him, "Then we can keep looking together."
Philza nods and goes back into the room.
After a bit of wandering the hall, he finds the door with Wilbur's name on it and pushes his way inside.
Wilbur is thankfully already in his pjs, and Techno blesses the nether stars that he doesn't have to wrestle pyjamas on a groggy kid.
He makes his way back to Phil and finds him on the floor, his back against a filing cabinet.
"What's up?"
"You know the paper they had us look for, for about seven hours?"
Dread pools in his stomach. Prime, what now.
"Yeah, turns out it's not in our department. The fucking manager forgot to tell the higher-ups it wasn't from our section and has been shitting his pants for having it filed in the wrong fucking section. And instead of saying anything, he just now found the guts to ask me to tell them he fucking lost it."
Realistically he should be mad right now. He should be furious that he just lost so much time when he didn't even have to. Instead, he starts laughing and finds he is unable to stop. Philza looks at him from the floor and breaks into delirious giggles too.
Techno has to hold on to the door to keep himself from dropping on the floor.
As their giggles die down, Philza looks at him.
"You have two options right now."
"Yeah?"
"I could hail you a cab and pay the fee and you could sleep in your own house."
"Sounds reasonable, what's the other option?"
"I have a spare room; you could just sleep there, and I could drive you home in the morning after breakfast."
"What's the catch on the second option?"
"Wilbur."
Techno chuckles, "I'll take my chances with the gremlin."
Phil smiles.
"Now go to bed, old man, your back is goin' to kill you tomorrow."
"Oh my god, we are the same age, you chaotic shit."
"Phil, your joints crack with every step you take, and I'm literally ten years younger than you."
"Wait really?!" He genuinely looks surprised at the news, "Holy shit."
He turns to leave, when he notices Phil doing grabby hands at him.
"Help me get up since I'm so old"
With a snort he grabs his arms and pulls him up, not bothering to suppress a laugh when Phil's joints predictably crack.
"Shut."
___________________
Technoblade wakes up the next day to animated chatter coming from downstairs.
It takes him a moment to make sense of the previous day. He's not used to waking up to other people in the same house, it reminds him of early mornings when he was a kid, and nostalgia makes itself a home in his chest.
When he finally gathers up his energy to make his way downstairs, he finds Philza leaning on the kitchen counter, watching Wil fondly as the kid hums while he eats his pancakes.
He walks to Phil and asks him if he has any coffee.
"I have a six-year-old with no concept of what's a good time to wake me up in the morning, of course I have coffee."
Techno smiles as he pours himself a cup. It's nice. He's lost the habit of having slow mornings, but this is a welcome feeling.
Wilbur looks at him and gestures to the seat next to him, and Techno finds out that he has inherited his father's puppy eyes and resigns to his fate of having a curious and fully awake child following him around.
Philza keeps his promise of driving him home, and Wilbur tags along because he's a little gremlin who can't stand not being at the centre of attention for five minutes.
Just as Techno is sure he's safe from the grasp of the six-year-old, Wilbur turns to Phil, cute as can be and reaching for the hem of his father's sweater, and asks: "Can I stay with him the next time you bring me to work?"
Phil's soft "sure" is the final nail in his coffin.