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It is a truth universally acknowledged that a baby found with matches in a forest must be in want of a fire. To deprive the child of something so innate would be, well, Wilbur didn’t want to call it child abuse, but it felt something akin to that at times.
It all started on a breezy autumn evening. They were sitting around the dinner table, swinging their legs under the table while Phil brought dessert over. He had made banana cream pie and even piled the whipped cream on top a mile high, a humble cherry placed singularly in the middle. It would be a bloodbath to see who won the cherry, but that was all the fun in a banana cream pie.
Phil placed the pie square on the table, handing out plates while he cut into the lovely dessert. As he handed them off, he began to speak. “As you know, Tommy’s baptism is coming up soon.” Once the Church of Prime caught wind of Phil’s recent adoption, they had been doing everything in their power to take Tommy away on all sorts of grounds. Now, Phil had never been a fan of the Church of Prime, mostly because his devotion was to a dead goddess that no one but him even remembered the name of.
…Alright, that wasn’t necessarily true. There was still a small mass in a crumbling temple just a twenty minute walk away. That was part of the reason why Phil decided to settle where they did-- he wanted to be closer to the congregation. And now, with the impending conquest of the Church of Prime, Phil wanted to expedite the ‘baptism’ process to cement Tommy’s place as a member of their household and as a member of their temple.
The baptism wasn’t so much a baptism as it was ‘gaining the goddess’ approval’ or something stupid like that. Wilbur and Technoblade didn’t usually pay attention in mass. They either zoned out or played a game making fun of all the old people that still showed up to these events.
Phil continued: “I need to appoint two people as his protectors, as custom dictates. Just like you two have Uncle Sneeg and Aunt Puffy, I was thinking--”
“We can be his protectors,” Technoblade interrupted. “He doesn’t need any stupid adults. We’re his brothers.”
“I second that nomination,” added Wilbur.
Phil pursed his lips. “...Right. Well, we can think about it. In the meantime, tomorrow, we’ll all have to go into town to prepare. You two need new suits, Tommy needs a purple rose--”
“He needs a new matchbox,” Wilbur said through a mouthful of pie. “He ran out this afternoon.”
“Is that why we’re missing a tree in the front yard?” The twins nodded. “Okay, so how about we stop giving him things with which he can light fires.”
Techno viciously shook his head. “No, he won’t like that.”
Phil glanced over at Tommy, whose face was scrunched up tightly as if he understood exactly what was being said and he did not like it.
“Well, I’m his father now, and I say that he can’t play with fire anymore. It’s dangerous. Well, it’s more of a danger to others than him, but I’m putting my foot down on this one.”
Tommy’s face grew redder by the second. It was like he was trying to ignite a fire with his eyes alone by the way he was staring at the back of Phil’s head.
“Dad, you don’t understand. It’s a part of who he is. You can’t take the arson out of the baby,” argued Wilbur.
“I can and I will. End of discussion.”
Phil didn’t even cut himself a slice of pie, deciding to retire to his bedroom early, though not before ordering the kitchen to be cleaned before they leave the kitchen. It was so disheartening living in the strict cage Phil placed them in. Wilbur and Techno still had chores (Tommy was still too young to learn how to do them), and Tommy could not commit arson.
“It’s okay,” Wilbur said, patting the table as he picked up his plate and Tommy’s mush of baby food. “We can still come back from this. Maybe we can smuggle Tommy a lighter or something?”
“Bah!” Tommy shouted.
“...Okay, we’ll stick to the matchbox for now.”
The next day, the four of them headed into town. Their first stop was the tailor, who had Technoblade and Wilbur measured for their new suits. Tommy kept crawling away from Phil to grab the cologne on display at the front. At first Phil assumed Tommy just liked the smell, but by the way Tommy was spraying it out into the air and then testing how it settled in the atmosphere, he was no doubt checking how flammable it was.
While Technoblade was being measured, put on the pedestal in the front and standing in the mirror, a group of boys his and Wilbur’s age waddled in, all laughing and jumping over each other. Wilbur recognized them from school, though Techno struggled with names and faces and people in general.
Right away, the entering boys narrowed their focus on Wilbur and Techno, smiles of malice stitched to their faces as they came with their greetings of artifice. “Wilbur? Technoblade? What are you doing out in civilization?” one of the boys, Quackity asked. Quackity was always finely dressed, white button up and expensive suspenders, his head covered in the world’s finest beanie.
Wilbur could only dream of a beanie as fine as that (and he did).
“Hello, Quackity,” Wilbur said, grabbing at the sleeves of his autumn coat from nervousness. “We’re here to be fitted.”
“Fitted? Fitted for what? Your dad’s funeral?”
Phil poked his head out from the couch he was sitting on, shutting the magazine with a start. “Hey, mate. Right here.”
That was awkward. Wilbur moved on. “Uh, no, actually. My brother is getting baptized in two days.”
“The new baby you guys found in the middle of nowhere?” one of the other boys, Dream, laughed. “Like Prime would accept something like that!”
Tommy crawled out from under the table of colognes, the empty bottle rolling out before him. The enemy boys looked down at him with bemusement. Dream crouched down, his hands outstretched in Tommy’s direction, beckoning the baby towards him. “Come here! Come here, you puppet!”
Technoblade stared Tommy down, willing him to have some pride and humanity and not go towards Dream and completely destroy everyone’s street cred, but babies were babies and they did not like to listen.
Though Phil stood up and protested the derogatory names Dream dared to call Tommy, Tommy just crawled his little hands and knees over to Dream. Once he was close enough, Dream made moves to grab Tommy, but was forced back by a sudden sharp pain to his wrist.
“Ow! Ow! It’s biting me! Let go! Make it let me go!”
Sapnap, Dream’s little lapdog, grabbed Tommy’s lower half and pulled him off, the sheer force making him stumble back into the table full of cologne and knock it over. Tommy flipped through the air and landed on his bottom, earning a ten out of ten landing from the three judges: Wilbur, Technoblade, and Philza.
The tailor turned around, and put his hands on his hips, ordering Quackity and his crew out immediately. “This isn’t over, Wilbur!” Quackity threatened, “Come Monday at school, you’re both dead!”
Wilbur gulped when the door slammed. He and Technoblade made eye contact and shared a thought, as twins do.
We’re screwed.
“I’m all finished with you boys,” the tailor said, patting Techno’s shoulder as a gesture to inform him to change back into his regular clothes. Techno was more than happy to comply, feeling all too restricted in the fancy suit.
While Phil and the tailor went to the other side of the store to discuss payment, Wilbur was tasked with picking up all the cologne sprays and putting the table back together. Tommy was encouraged to stay put.
“Wil-bah?” Tommy started.
“Yeah, Toms?”
“Grr,” Tommy explained, bunching his pudgy hands into fists.
“I hate them too, but what can we do about it? Look, it’s not your problem, Tommy. You just go on being a regular baby. Maybe… Maybe you’re better off without the arson.”
Techno snapped the curtain back, stepping into the room with a newfound determination and pride. “Nonsense!”
See, while he was stuck in isolation in the dastardly fitting room, he had a lot of time to think. About life, liberty, and most of all, the pursuit of happiness.
He also had time to think about what it meant to be a good big brother. Here they were, being disrespected in front of their little brother, and they did nothing but take it! How could they call themselves good big brothers when they could hardly look Tommy in the eye?
Phil said they had to show Tommy how things were in the world.
Well, they could do that.
“Why didn’t we fight back, Wilbur?” Techno demanded.
Wilbur got up from his crouched position, three or four bottles of cologne in his arms. “Well, because you can’t speak in front of your peers, and honestly I was a little blindsided by Quackity--”
Techno grabbed Tommy from behind, holding him up with arms outstretched in front of Wilbur. “This is our little brother, Wilbur. And we looked like fools in front of him. There’s only one way to gain that back.”
“Teno?” Tommy gasped.
Wilbur’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
Techno nodded.
Tommy stared at the bottles of cologne longingly.
Wilbur put the cologne down and dug through his pockets before he grabbed what he wanted. It was a singular match, still clean and unlit.
It fit like a glove in Tommy’s hands.
The morning of the baptism, Phil rose early to prepare everything. He kept slamming the broom into the wall of the hallway, just outside of Wilbur and Techno’s room. One would think that a broom’s brushed end would be relatively silent, but no. No, it was quite loud.
Phil’s cleaning frenzy was the result of sending out invitations to the members of the congregation and some family friends about a reception to be held in their house. Turned out baptisms were a huge event that people liked showing up to, even from far away. Wilbur and Technoblade had only ever been to one baptism (their own) and they were too young to remember it.
Wilbur and Technoblade had been awake since the broom pounding began, but they lied in bed for an hour out of pure spite. If they left the room immediately, they would be roped into helping Phil clean, and that would be the same as showing Phil their throats. Like hell they’d give their dad what he wanted!
“I wish Tommy was a little older,” Wilbur whispered into the darkness of their room. It was so early the sun hadn’t even risen yet. “He’d be able to clean with Phil.”
“Do you ever think we found Tommy for a different reason? Maybe he’s not meant for chores. Maybe he’s just meant for… arson.”
It was a hard pill to swallow. Wilbur was so intent on raising Tommy to do his chores (and other things of course, he wasn’t a monster ). But it was clear as day when they found him on that smoky spring morning with his box of matches. The way he yearned for flammable objects. Perhaps it had been wrong to attempt to redefine him in any way; he wasn’t the only one guilty of this-- Phil’s match ban was the same-- but he had the power to put a stop to it.
“Yeah. I think so too.”
“I hope today goes well.”
“When it’s over, do you think we’ll still be good people, Technoblade?”
Techno rolled over onto his side, facing Wilbur. “Were we ever?”
Their private and thoughtful moment was interrupted by Phil banging on their bedroom door, yelling, “Up! Up! Up! I can hear you two chatting! Come help clean!”
The twins rolled their eyes and groaned.
Techno recovered and got out of bed pretty fast, but Wilbur acted as dead weight, especially when Technoblade grabbed his arm and dragged him out of his bed, sheets tangled in his legs and all. Really, it created more of a mess, but Technoblade was more concerned about equity and an equal amount of duties being pushed on them.
“Don’t be a dickhead! I’ll get up on my own!” Wilbur hissed.
“I will have Tommy set your bed on fire if you don’t get up now. You know he doesn’t discriminate.”
“Well, he should respect his older brother.”
“We have to earn it. We will have it by today.”
Tommy was already up and at it by the time the twins left their room. He was sitting on the kitchen counter next to a wet rag and an all-purpose cleaner made with hydrogen peroxide and ammonia, which raised some flags for the twins and made them wonder why it didn’t raise some flags for Phil.
Wilbur swiped it off the table. “Later,” he promised Tommy.
“Wil-bah!” replied Tommy. The baby held his arms out like he wanted to be picked up. Techno obliged, hoisting him up onto his shoulders. He was light and the only worry was that Tommy would shit his diaper and it would get on Techno, but all in all, cleaning with a baby on his shoulder wasn’t too bad.
Wilbur and Techno scrubbed the kitchen and living room down, making a game out of it so they didn’t gauge their eyes out in the process.
Wilbur made up songs.
They had pillow and soap fights.
Tommy tried to light the fireplace.
When Phil came to check on their progress, he looked pleasantly surprised. They could tell by the way he hummed a middle C that it was to his standards. Afterwards, he plucked Tommy off of Techno’s shoulders and sent the twins to put their suits on. Techno hated the feeling of wearing the suit, but boy was he excited for this baptism.
They could hardly feel the chill of autumn through their suits during their walk to the temple. They were much too stiff to feel any sort of cold.
Tommy wore a white tunic with little white booties and a white bonnet to match. He looked like he was going to have Sunday tea with all of the ladies of the ton.
There was a crowd of people milling about outside of the temple. The building itself had seen better days. The stone walls were covered in vines and flowers. The steps were cracked and mossy, and the statue of the goddess could do with some upkeep. The boys could tell Phil felt the same way by the time he sized up the temple and then glanced at them, no doubt thinking about signing them up for clean up duty.
The boys took a respectful step back.
No way.
“Before we go in,” said Phil, standing back while everyone else entered the ruins (okay, it wasn’t that bad). “I thought about what you two said about being Tommy’s protectors.”
“I get it,” said Techno, “We don’t deserve it. Not yet--”
“No,” Phil interrupted, “I was going to say you’re right. I mean, you two are his older brothers. There is no one else in the world that would protect Tommy better than you two.” Upon seeing the twins gape at their father, Phil let out a little laugh. “What? Is it so surprising? That’s what older brothers are for, after all.”
“Yeah,” Wilbur breathed. “Yeah, that’s what we’re for.”
All four of them entered the temple. There were no windows and the air was thick with incense and old people. There was a long aisle with purple carpets that led to a dais with a thick wooden table covered by a lacy purple tablecloth. On top was a water basin.
The pews were filled with members of the congregation and old friends of Phil’s. Phil and the boys just walked up to the front with Tommy in tow, handing him off to the priest dressed in heavy garments. The priest leaned into Phil’s ear to whisper something, sending a glance down at the twins.
Phil nodded with a smile, and the priest turned to the audience to begin the ceremony. “We are gathered here today to welcome a new member to our community…” and to avoid the Church of Prime from stealing a baby was what was left unsaid.
The people in this temple had a real animosity for the Church of Prime. Maybe because that church was the sole reason why they all met in a dirty, ruined temple and had at maximum eighty members that came by every so often.
The priest begins talking gibberish in some dead language while holding up Tommy by his armpits, letting him and his little booties dangle in the air as if he were about to be dropped in a bonfire.
Tommy would probably like that.
In another part of town-- five parts, to be exact-- were five regular boys, going about their day as if it were not a special occasion. Perhaps for them it wasn’t. Perhaps the things they did with their time and the words that came out of their mouths were inconsequential.
Perhaps walking through a door was a meaningless action because it required little thought. It was what was behind the door that really counted, wasn’t it?
The priest turned to the twins. “Wilbur and Technoblade, do you believe in Kristin, Mother Almighty, Creator of the Universe?”
“I do,” they replied in unison.
One might think that a baby lacked the understanding of the complications and complexities of fire. What is fire? Why did it burn? Was it meant to heal humanity or harm it? How did people evolve and go from starting fire with nothing but sticks to complicated systems that ignited fires from distances?
A normal baby would not be able to fathom these things, but Wilbur and Technoblade had picked up an arson baby on that fateful day in the woods.
They didn’t do normal.
It was quite easy to get Phil’s permission to take Tommy out of the house and into town. Walk around the shops… Stop in some neighborhoods…
“Do you believe in the Angel, the helping hand of Our Lady?” asked the priest.
“I do.”
It was easy to rig up a line of redstone to Quackity’s house.
To Dream’s.
To Sapnap and George’s and Karl’s.
Wilbur and Technoblade couldn’t even do anything-- Tommy’s hands moved quickly and precisely when it came to fire. They were just in the way. The only thing they could do to help was pick Tommy up and drop him in another part of the wires so it would save him the time it took to crawl.
“Wilbur and Technoblade, do you renounce Prime?”
Yes, when they walked through the door, they were already doomed. A trigger in the system was all it took to ignite a simple spark and create a beautiful explosion of fire. There was no knowledge of who else was in the house-- just that the house was on fire. Whoever opened the door would be blasted back by the sheer force of the explosion.
“I do renounce her,” said the twins.
People cluttered the streets, watching with passing apathy and self-centered concern while their neighbors’ houses burned down. There was a distinct smell of flesh in the air, most likely coming from Quackity, whose left side of the face was raw.
“And all her works?”
Some good samaritans began to douse the five houses on fire with water. It became a community effort after a while. A doctor was on the site treating all the victims. Dream’s entire face was just gone-- the skin melted off. The doctor gave him a mask to cover up.
“I do renounce them.”
The other three came out relatively unscathed, though their houses were decimated. Not even the foundation remained.
“And all her pomps?”
They kneeled in front of what used to be their houses, digging their nails into the yellow grass of their front lawns. They shouldn’t have been that close. When material items were so precious, it cut like a knife to lose it all in one moment.
“I do renounce them.”
The priest brought Tommy over to the twins, waiting for them to take off their little brother’s hat first. He then brought him back over to the water basin, dipping him headfirst into the water, signing a crow onto his forehead with the water.
The audience cheered as the priest brought Tommy back up, handing him over to Wilbur and Technoblade. Phil rested a hand on each boy’s shoulder, squeezing with pride, oblivious to the chaos that occurred out in the town.
That obliviousness didn’t last so long, though. The moment they stepped out of the temple, Phil sniffed the air and looked at the unnaturally grey sky and turned to Tommy. “Tommy, if I hear there’s a fire in town again, we’re going to have some issues, mate.”
“It wasn’t Tommy this time,” Wilbur said. “It was us.” He made a point to take a step in between Phil and Technoblade, who was holding Tommy. This was him being an older brother. This was him being a protector.
Phil sighed, shaking his head. He waited for an explanation.
They thought it would be better to just show him. They all journeyed into town, watching as people wiped the sweat from their brows while they doused Tommy’s art with water. On the far side of the street was a poorly pitched white tent with a line of burn victims waiting for treatment. Techno hid his smile when he saw a familiar green hoodie with a white plaster mask covering his face, no doubt slathered with burn cream.
Quackity’s eye was wrapped in bandages.
“All of this because of your scuffle at the tailor’s shop?” Phil gasped. Then he shrugged. “Deserved.”
Phil began to make his way back to their house, ready for the reception that people were no doubt beginning to arrive at. Wilbur and Technoblade were frozen where they stood, Tommy giggling in their clutches. “That’s it? You’re not mad?”
“Mate, one of them implied I was dead. I don’t care that their houses were burned down or their lives were ruined.”
Huh.
“Unless… You want a punishment? Because there are some things I need done around the house--”
“No! No! We’re good!” Wilbur laughed quickly, catching up to Phil, suddenly very excited about a boring party with old people talking about how cute babies were.
Phil grabbed Tommy from Technoblade, patting his head fondly. “You did a good job protecting your brothers, Tommy. I’m sorry about saying no more fire.” From his pocket, he produced a box of matches.
Tommy gurgled happily, hugging the box of matches close to his chest. “Fanks Phil,” said Tommy.
“You’re welcome, son.”
Sometimes it wasn’t as cut and dry as an older brother protecting the younger. Sometimes it was enough that everyone had everyone’s back, and they were all closer for it.
“Just please don’t burn our house down, okay? Others are fine, but ours is off limits.”