Chapter Text
When going about his day, Phil usually had a pretty good idea of what to expect.
Sure, on a server like the Dream SMP, one couldn’t count on consistency when taking into account the various other members, who were all known for their own brands of chaos and disorder. But generally, when left to his own devices, Phil had an idea of what his day would look like: feeding Techno’s menagerie of animals, general maintenance around the house as they slowly slid further into the bitterness of winter, and some light farming to pad out the rest. Perhaps invite Ranboo to join him and Techno for dinner then go to bed.
All those expectations went out the window the second he saw Ranboo’s lifeless body slumped on the ground right outside his door step, drying red-green blood spattering the wood and smearing the wings sticking out of their back.
“What the fuck.” Phil said blankly, voice coming out in a bit of a wheeze with his disbelief.
“What is it, old man?” Techno yawned from behind him, still nursing his cup of coffee where Phil had left him at the table. But his nonchalant tone was enough to snap Phil into action. He collapsed onto the ground beside Ranboo, holding his fingers against their neck, where their pulse should be and… there! Okay, there was a pulse, that was a good start.
“Techno,” Phil called, urgency coloring his tone enough that Techno was at his side a split second later, axe drawn but immediately dropped the second he saw Ranboo sprawled out on the ground.
“Oh, shit. What happened?”
“Looks like they just got their wings. I didn’t know they were a bird hybrid.” Phil said, gently nudging Ranboo onto their side. Their breath was rattling worryingly in their chest and their skin was cold to the touch. With a suddenly overwhelming wave of concern, Phil realized that he had no idea how long Ranboo had been out in the cold like this. Poor chick. “Shit. Fuck. Techno, help me get them inside. They’re freezing.”
“Ah-yup.” Techno said, jumping into action and gingerly lifting Ranboo into his arms as they drew them inside. Phil directed him to drape Ranboo facedown on the couch, mind racing as he brushed gentle hands over the tacky new skin of their wings.
Phil was not in any way prepared to take care of a hatchling, he hadn’t needed to since Wilbur had left his nest, so… right, first things first. Clean up the blood from their wings and get them situated into his nest. Techno was hovering anxiously over his shoulder, watching with intense eyes as he kept his hands to himself, waiting for Phil’s direction.
“Can you go brew me some awkward potions? We need to clean off all this blood.” Phil asked, and Techno took off like a shot, obviously pleased that he had something helpful to do. The potions should be hot enough to be sterile, or something close to it. Phil looked over Ranboo for any open wounds, but other than the scabbed-over areas where their wings had clearly come through, there wasn’t much in the way of injury. Turning away, Phil stoked the fire, adding a few extra logs just in case, before returning and drawing a short blade from his inventory. He made quick work of their shirt, carefully peeling it off them and dropping it to the side.
He’d have to wait until they were clean to wrap Ranboo up properly, but at the very least the blood seemed relatively fresh, so hopefully they hadn’t been out there for too long. Phil couldn’t help but warble sadly at the thought of Ranboo, who must've been so confused and in pain, stumbling to their house looking for help, just to pass out right in front of the door. He ran his fingers through their blood-stained hair, brushing it away from their face.
Well, that wouldn't happen again, not to his hatchling.
And though Phil knew, logically, he should be using this time to further prepare for Ranboo's stay, start with food, drag their stash over to his nest to ease the transition, do any of number of things necessary to house a new chick, he couldn't bring himself to leave their side. The bird inside him was crowing with worry and elation, an overlapping cry of mybaby-toocold-hurtrest, that Phil could feel himself getting lost in it, slowly adjusting Ranboo until they were sprawled over his lap, his hands in their hair, brushing and braiding. No feathers to preen yet, so their hair would have to do for now.
He cooed soothingly, the warmth of mybaby-myhatchling-safenow blurring time a little bit, until a clattering of hooves up the stairs startled him out of his trance, and he hunched over the still body of his chick, hissing threateningly.
"Oh, shoot. Philza?" A voice said, registering distantly to him as familiar. Phil remained poised over his chick, but made no noise as he zeroed in on the piglin in the threshold, holding an armful of bottles and rags. "Phil, look, I get it, you're in your 'beast-mode' or whatever, but I need you to be present for this, please bro. I've got no idea how to take care of them."
The desperate note in his voice roused Phil a bit, and he blinked, shaking off the worst of his fog and reluctantly motioning Techno forward. He gingerly approached the couch, having known Phil long enough to be wary of the kind of damage he could do while lost to his instincts. Phil took a bottle and a rag, wetting the cloth and immediately setting to work, gently rubbing the blood off the fragile skin of Ranboo's new wings.
Techno took his place on the other side, using slow movements until Phil motioned to get on with it. Sooner his hatchling was clean, the sooner they could be bundled safely into his nest. But as Phil roused further, he couldn't help but notice how… different Ranboo's wings were.
“What the fuck…” Phil muttered to himself, slowing as he stared at the structure of their wings under his hands. Techno paused on his side too, brow furrowed in worry.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Phil just shook his head, brushing his hands down the length of the wings, tracing the bones shifting just underneath the skin there, but underneath, where the feathers were meant to grow in, was a slip of leathery skin instead. The shape of the bones were all wrong too, too stiff where there was meant to be a bend, what Phil thought was meant to be the alula at the joint sticking out oddly, like a thumb. “I don’t- I don't think they’re a bird, mate.”
Techno slowly unfolded the other wing, careful with the new joints as he observed the shape of their wings, tracing a finger down the wrinkled inky black leather. Bat was Phil's first thought, but the skin didn't follow the line of their body down their sides, but stuck out from the shoulders in a similar way to Phil's. Rubbing the rag gently across the area where the wing met the shoulder, there was a light bit of fuzz from their skin, but the wings themselves, now clean of blood, seemed to be covered in teeny little scales.
"You know any dragons, Philza?" Techno asked flatly, having come to the same conclusion as he did.
"Not here." Phil said, in disbelief. There was one in the End realm, but everyone knew that had been closed off from the Dream SMP for centuries, and Phil sincerely doubted Ranboo had been alive for that long. "I've only seen them in hardcore worlds like my one, and even then, they're huge. How the fuck-"
Ranboo gave a weak little warble, confused and pained as they jolted up a bit in their collective hold. Techno immediately took a step back while Phil ran his hands through their mostly-clean hair and down their back, being gentle with the abused skin there. He warbled back soothingly, coaxing them to lay back down in his lap until they settled, huffing like they were having difficulty breathing.
"Fuck, I didn't think they'd wake up yet. Techno go get a slowness and healing potion. Better for them to sleep this off and get used to it when their body is more settled." Phil ordered, never letting up his gentle strokes across Ranboo's back. Techno was quick to bring them both back, allowing Phil a moment to free himself from the couch before the potions were splashed across Ranboo’s still form. They sunk into their skin quickly, and Phil sighed in relief. The combination of the potions and the general stress that came with growing wings should be enough to knock them out for the rest of the night if all went well.
"Mmm, they're still cold." Techno muttered with displeasure, pressing the back of his knuckles against their arm. With a quick look at Phil for approval, he gathered them up in his arms and allowed himself to be ushered into Phil's nest. It was big enough for the two of them, and any crows or pets who wanted to join as well, but with Ranboo’s lankiness, it would be a bit of a squeeze. Though by Techno's determined expression, he was pretty sure it was as much of a non-issue for him as it was for Phil.
Phil took the lead, arranging things into place, gathering the most heat-trapping fabrics toward the middle where Ranboo would be. Satisfied, he flopped himself onto his side and made grabby hands toward Techno, who just snorted in amusement.
"Think maybe I should hold the kid right now?" Techno prompted, sounding infuriatingly smug about it as Phil's face immediately dropped into a frown. Because yes, maybe Technoblade technically ran hotter than he did, being from the nether and all, but- Ranboo was a nestling now, and as much as he trusted Techno with his life and theirs, he wanted to cuddle his newest chick, dammit.
But warmth- but cuddles- around and around in his mind until he noticed Ranboo shiver, full-bodied and hair-raising, and Phil had to concede.
"...you hold them. They need to get warm fast." Phil said begrudgingly.
They both arranged themselves as needed, with Ranboo cradled closely to Techno's chest, though Phil was crowded their back about as close as he could get without crushing their wings, throwing his own wing over the three of them to help with insulation. Techno chuffed, clearly pleased, and Ranboo snuggled a little closer, making a low growl of their own. Phil chirped at them, hooking an arm around their chest and they leaned into that touch too.
They all slept well.
Ranboo didn't want to get up.
They couldn't quite remember going to sleep last night, just a lot of panic and pain and cold, but they were warm now. By Gods, they were warm. Completely enclosed in heat and a low grumbling that was coming from whatever they were laying against, vibrating into their ears and making them want to just melt into a puddle of uselessness. They sighed in contentment, and the thing they were laying against gave a deep chuckle, distantly familiar to their ears. There were careful hand brushing through their hair, and that was nice too, until the hands moved down their back and lightly prodded at the aching sections of their back. They whined in protest, long and pained, until the hands withdrew.
“You waking up, mate?” a voice murmured into their ear, making it flick as warm breath blew over them. The rumbling in their ears stuttered to a stop and they whined at that too, missing the soothing sound, hands scrambling a bit as they pressed themselves closer in a futile attempt to get it to start again, but just received another deep chuckle in response.
“Ranboo~” the deep voice sang, and then there was a finger lightly jabbing their side and hands running through their hair and they looked up, squinting blearily up at Technoblade. They hummed in confusion, brow wrinkled. What was Technoblade doing in their bed? “There you are. C’mon kid, we gotta get some food into you before you pass out again.”
The hands raking through their hair trailed down to their arms, trying to nudge them up into a sitting position, but they whined again. Everything was sore and too bright and they just wanted to go back to sleep. They didn’t remember their bed being this comfortable before, but they certainly weren’t going to complain about it. But then the smell of something rich and savory caught their nose and they blinked further awake, stomach suddenly making them very aware of how long it’s been since they’d last eaten.
They tried to reach for the bowl, but their arms shook and it hurt to lift them, so they sort of just flopped forward in the direction of the food, eliciting more light laughter. They huffed in irritation. They were hungry, but they didn’t know how to get the food, and laughing wasn’t going to help them eat. There was a warbling coo and they flailed as they were suddenly tipped back into strong arms, and they squirmed, disoriented and confused. A deep throated chuff from their left sent a sudden sense of contentment through their bones and they went limp.
Hungry:help:hurt they warbled needily into the air, eyes scrunched closed as their cry rattled in their chest, and suddenly there was warmth pressed against both sides, answering calls in their ears and something pressing against their lips. Instinctively, they opened their mouth and greedily ate the broth being spoon-fed to them, and oh, they were hurt, sleepy, and helpless, but the hands holding them were solid and sure, protective and kind. They warbled again and received two answers in return.
Safe:protected:guardians? They rumbled nervously, hands reaching sloppily to the side, only to be immediately caught and held. Another spoonful of broth was pressed to their lips, and they drank it down, and something solidified in their mind. They were safe, they were safe, and their guardians would take care of them.
They purred, and something deep within them unfolded, unwound, and they sank deep into it, drowning in the newfound security.
They didn’t have to worry anymore. Their guardians would look after them.