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Technoblade hums as he opens the trapdoor to Phil’s bee farm, carefully tugging out a sheet of beeswax. The thing had broken a few weeks back, and Phil hadn’t had the chance to fix it, leaving Techno to collect the honey manually. He doesn’t particularly mind, of course, it’s something to do, and he’s not going to hound Phil about something like that. He’s already got quite a bit going on.
He lugs the sheet of honey up the stairs, struggling to open the doorknob. He’d really rather not get all his items sticky by placing the thing in his inventory, and his doorknob is slick with melted snow. He’s about to give up and set himself to a night of scrubbing honey off his sword when he hears the other door open behind him.
“Phil,” He heaves a breath in exaggerated relief. “Thank the gods.”
Someone clears their throat, and it’s not Phil. Techno turns to see Tommy standing there, in Phil’s open doorway.
“Um. I can try and find Phil, if you need,” Tommy tells him, and Techno notes the anxiety clearly buzzing under the kid's skin.
“Nah. Just need you to open my door real quick.” Techno readjusts his grip on the wooden frame of honey. Tommy’s eyes catch on it, and he mutters a quick “oh.” before moving carefully past Techno, opening the door to his cabin.
“Thanks, kid. Come in if you like.”
Techno isn’t quite sure why he offered, and Tommy seems just as surprised. “Uh, sure. I’ll just. Erm.” He skirts awkwardly past Techno, who huffs a laugh under his breath, following Tommy into the house and setting the wax frame on the kitchen table with a thud. Tommy just stands there, looking as uncomfortable as Techno feels.
They’re silent for a while as Techno works, Tommy quietly sitting across from him, watching his scarred hands as they scrape away wax and honey into jars.
Tommy’s been staying at Phil’s pretty consistently, now. Or at least, that’s what Techno’s been told. He’s hardly even seen the kid before today. Tommy’s almost entirely locked himself in Phil’s house, only stepping out once in a while and never leaving the confines of the fenced-in commune.
Techno doesn’t mind having Tommy on his land, not really. The time of his burning anger against the boy has worn off, making room for something closer to pity. He knows the kid hates pity, and that’s not precisely what Techno feels for him, anyways, so he hasn’t mentioned it. Tommy’s just too sad-looking these days to really hate. It doesn't take a genius to clue in that he’s been through some rough shit lately.
“Phil’s not home right now,” Tommy tells him, out of the blue. Techno sighs. “I’m not gonna prank Phil’s house while he’s gone, Tom.”
The boy splutters, a laugh bubbling up before he can reel himself in. “No, no- when did I say that?” He defends himself with a grin. Techno suppresses his own. “I would never prank the great Philza. I’ve never played a prank in my life.”
“Oh, of course,” Techno deadpans, “And I’m sure you’re also a devoted follower of Prime now too.” He huffs a laugh, but at this, Tommy has stopped laughing.
“I am, actually.” He says quietly. Techno glances up, scanning his face, trying to glean if this is a joke. When he finds none, he nods at Tommy. “Oh. How long have you been doing that?”
“I built that church. And the holy lands.” Tommy says, which isn’t an answer, but Techno takes it. It’s news to him. The church was there before Techno showed up here.
Technoblade hums. He doesn’t mind if Tommy’s religious now. Prime above, he’s been at least spiritual for hundreds of years. The religions surrounding the god of blood died off a few centuries back, but Techno never stopped practicing, and Tommy had grown up around that. Makes sense he would find some solace in belief like that.
“Prime is a good choice. I’ve used the bell in there, actually, once.” He shrugs.
Tommy nods, a look of relief passing over his features momentarily before settling back into that mask of indifference. “I heard.” He chuckles.
They’re quiet for another stretch, as Techno seals the bottles of honey, carefully inking the date onto labels before attaching them to the jars. He stands, back cracking as he does so. Tommy giggled, shoving a hand into his mouth to stifle the noise, but Techno just huffs, piling honey into his arms and opening the cabinet.
“Why the fuck do you have so much honey?” Tommy cackles at the dozens of bottles. Techno groans, grinning despite himself. “Phil won’t let me throw them out, says the bees work too hard for that.”
Tommy dissolves into laughter, leaning over the table. Techno rolls his eyes.
It feels good to have a bit of noise in the house. Snow can be so silencing, making even the sounds of his animals just a muted background noise. He and Phil are quiet types, when it’s just the two of them, preferring the comfort of each other's company more often than each other's words. It’s nice to have something there besides Techno’s own voice and those of his chat.
Tommy’s giggles subside, and Techno starts glancing through the cabinets. “What are you feeling for dinner, kid?” He shoots the question over his shoulder. “Potato salad, maybe? Or roasted… I’ve got some beef I could make as the main meal.”
Tommy coughs. It’s a rough sound, and it makes Techno pause, but the kid collects himself quickly enough. “Uh, I don’t eat beef, sorry.” He mumbles. “I can go back to Phil’s for dinner, though, no need.”
“Nah, nah. I’ve got chicken.” Techno waves him off, thinking momentarily of the way Tommy looked at Bob in his basement and understanding. “Probably would go better with roasted potatoes. Sound good?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s fine. Thanks.” Tommy scratches his neck, looking confused. “You don't have to make me dinner, Techno.” He tells him hesitantly, as though breaking some bad news. Techno raises an eyebrow. “If it wasn't clear by the potatoes, I’m making myself dinner, and simply feeding you in the process.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of. I can-”
“Take care of yourself, I know, Tommy.” Techno says placatingly, cutting off Tommy’s defensive tone. “You’re staying here right now, and I’m being a good host, alright? Just leave me a good Yelp review.” He sets to filling a large pot with water and placing it on the stove.
Tommy laughs but still looks strangely at Techno. “I’m staying with Phil, though.”
Techno shrugs, beginning to chop potatoes. “My land, I guess. Plus, Phil isn’t here right now. Don’t think he’ll be back for another few days.”
Tommy makes a little shocked noise. “A few days?” He squeaks. Techno nods, slowing his chopping to glance at Tommy, whose posture has gone rigid. “Phil told me he was just going to the nearest town, for books or some shit.”
“Yup.” Techno pops his lips. “The nearest town with a bookseller prestigious enough to get Phil’s money,” He rolls his eyes, “Is about a day and a half away. Three or so round trip, depending on if he’s flying.” He glances at Tommy, nearly startling at how wide his eyes are, darling from window to window. “Uh, you’re welcome to stay here, while he’s gone.”
Tommy’s head snaps towards him. “What?” He gapes. Techno shrugs. “Dream isn’t gonna mess with you if I’m here. I could take care of him easily, and he knows it. He’s not an idiot.”
“Well, agree to disagree on that last one,” Tommy mutters, seemingly recovered a bit, and Techno laughs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll stay if you want me to so badly. I’ll do it for you, Blade.” Tommy waves his arm as if to knock away thanks.
“Sureeee,” Techno drawls, smirking as he dumps potatoes into the boiling water. “Now help make dinner, you hooligan.”
Tommy jumps at this, joining him at the counter with a grin. Techno allows himself to fall back into the motions of teaching the kid. It’s all too reminiscent of when Tommy was a kid, just a little boy jumping up on Techno’s ankles. He missed those days, settled down with Phil and his kids. He remembered how hard Phil cried when Wilbur showed up, a baby in a basket, a gift from Death Herself. He remembered tearing up a bit too.
Now, Tommy’s baby-smooth skin is scarred and weathered, and he’s lost his happy childlike glow, but he still stands by Techno, chopping carrots, chattering about Prime knows what. Techno smiles to himself. He’s missed this.
Tommy slides his chopped food over to Techno, who thanks him softly and slides them into a pan with some chicken. “I just gotta cook these, now, so you can go chill. I’ll call you when it’s done. Thanks for the help.”
Tommy nods, walking out of the kitchen, the front door opening and closing a moment later. Techno scrapes the bottom of the pan, inhaling the smells of the spices coming together. He’ll have to make sure to save some for Phil, he’d like this. Hopefully, Tommy will, too.
When the food is done cooking, Techno pushes it onto plates and weaves around chairs to look for Tommy. He’s not on the porch, where Techno thought he’d be. Instead, he finds Tommy leaning against an exterior wall, watching Techno’s sheep graze, a lit cigarette pinched between two fingers.
“Heh?” Techno exclaims, picking up his pace as he strides towards Tommy, who startles, sliding a few inches down the wall and quickly stifling the lit end on his pant leg.
“Uh- what is up, big man?” Tommy tries, but he’s quickly given away by the puff of smoke leaving his nostrils as he speaks.
“I’ve got the same question,” Techno stops in front of the kid, gazing at him in shock. “Since when are you doing that? And don’t lie to me, Tom,” He warns, and Tommy’s mouth snaps shut.
“I don’t know,” He mumbles.
“You don’t know.” Techno repeats in disbelief.
“I don’t know!” Tommy exclaims, hands shaking. “After Wilbur, probably.” He adds, voice pitching down. Techno forces his muscles to relax with a sigh, running a hand down his face.
“That was years ago, kid,” He groans, voice muffled by his fingers. “I’m sorry,” Tommy whispers. “I- I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
Technoblade takes a breath. “Look, man, you know I gotta tell Phil.” Tommy winces, but Techno cuts him off. “You’re not- I’m not trying to get you in trouble, Tom, you just need to stop with that. You know that, right?”
Tommy wraps his arms around himself, not making eye contact. “Yeah, I know,” He mumbles, “I’ve tried, it’s just- they help, right?” He looks up, something desperate on his face, needing Techno to understand. Techno, despite himself, does. He nods, and relief flashes over Tommy’s face.
“Things are just- they’re so much, sometimes, and they help.” Tommy chokes, and Techno isn’t sure if it’s on a cough or a sob. Either way, he reaches out, gently pulling the kid to his chest. Tommy rests his head on Techno’s shirt, sniffling. “It’s alright, kid, I understand. I’m not mad.”
Tommy shudders, pulling away and yanking something from his pockets, shoving them into Techno’s hands. Techno doesn’t have to look to know it’s a box of cigarettes, and a lighter. “There’s more under my mattress in Phil’s house.” He blurts, and although he looks like he half regrets it, there’s determination there too, and Techno feels a spark of pride. “Thank you, Tom.” He murmurs, who nods, leaning back into Techno’s side.
“We’ll talk more about this later, but let's go eat first. Get out of the cold.” Tommy nods, allowing himself to be led.
Their dinner is good, everything considered. Tommy pokes fun at Techno’s potatoes, although he ends up eating a second serving. Techno laughs and Tommy flips him off. It’s peaceful, and while the events of earlier still hang in the air, with Tommy’s occasional cough and the weight of the box in Techno’s pocket, Tommy seems genuinely happy to be here, and Technoblade can’t help but feel the same.
They do speak about it later, and Techno collects the boxes under Tommy’s bed, carefully set in his ender chest. Tommy protests, lightly, but quickly gives up.
He sends a strongly worded message to Quackity, detailing that the cigarettes Tommy has been buying have not, in fact, been for Wilbur, and that he will not be selling to him anymore, which Quackity quickly agrees to, seeming genuinely shocked and apologetic about it, rather than simply agreeing out of fear.
Phil is told when he returns a few days later, and after some scolding, simply hugs the kid, and holds him when he breaks down.
Tommy stays in Techno’s house more often now. Technoblade occasionally wakes to him crawling into bed beside him when nightmares keep him up. They both sleep better.
Things get better, and worse, and better again. Techno’s getting used to Tommy’s laugh again. Dream never does try and mess with them. Techno allows Tubbo to visit, and hides his grin behind an exasperated expression at their latest prank. Wilbur comes by sometimes, despite the recent enforcement of Phil’s “no smoking” policy. They laugh together, poking fun at Phil’s age, shoving playfully at each other. They build a room for Tommy, and he’s decorated it in the ugliest possible way. He’s got an altar, and Tommy has joined Techno for his prayer more than a few times now.
Things are better, and everyone can suddenly breathe easier.