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Tommy talked.
He talked about Earth, he ranted about video games, he gushed about bovines, and he complained about Dreamons. He prattled in the pantry, argued in the armory, and monologued in the meeting room. He nattered on through meals, gossiped in the hallways, and droned away in the astronomy deck.
It had been three weeks since Technoblade knew peace.
"Theseus!" The piglin slammed his hands down on his workstation, upsetting the cup of bolts he'd been meticulously cleaning, sending them scattering across the armory floor. The human paused in his ramble about creatures called 'chickens' and how they were (somehow?) the dominant flavor on Earth. Of course, the silence only lasted a moment.
"Oh shit man, you good?" Tommy jumped off the counter he'd been sitting on and crouched down, using his nimble human fingers to gather up the bolts. One part of Techno appreciated it - his own fingers were larger and thicker, tipped with heavy nails that were perfect for mining and scraping about on his home planet, but not as good at picking up tiny things from the floor. The other part had his eye twitching as the kid started rambling on about how this one time he'd dropped a bag of something called 'eminems' across a cafeteria floor and how it was the worst day of his grade school life.
Techno didn't know what an M&M was, he didn't know what a grade school was, and he was fairly sure things were being lost in translation between their ear pieces, but he didn't care because honestly, honestly , he just wanted some Prime-forsaken peace and quiet.
"Will you just shut up ?" He demanded in a low, gruff growl, snorting to show his annoyance, ears flicking in frustration. "All you do is talk, and I don't want to hear it right now! Just - be quiet, for once in your life." Tommy paused mid-bend, one hand full of shiny, clean bolts, the other reaching out for balance. He tilted his head to the side, blonde curls falling to brush against his collar (he needed a haircut, Wilbur insisted, but Tommy wouldn't let the scientist anywhere near him with anything sharper than a pillow), and something deep in the piglin was soothed at the motion. The kid was baring his neck, showing he understood he'd done something wrong and caused an elder frustration. It wasn't as instinctual a motion as a true piglin could make, but he appreciated the effort well enough.
Then Tommy was standing, his brows furrowed a bit even as he gave Techno a smile. He dropped the bolts into the cup and stepped away. "Sorry, big man," he ducked his head as he apologized, "I'll leave you alone."
Before Techno could offer for the boy to stay, if he promised to be quiet, Tommy was gone. The piglin stared after the closed door for a moment before shrugging. The kid had obviously chosen to be loud somewhere else, and he was sure Tommy would tell him all about his adventures later, outside of the blissful peace and quiet of the armory.
Humming and enjoying his quiet, Techno went back to work.
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Tommy wasn't talking.
It had been three days since Techno had told him to be quiet in the armory, and the boy hadn't said more than a handful of polite greetings to him since then. He still ranted and rambled away with Phil and Wilbur, but as soon as the piglin entered the room, he would quiet down and, more often than not, dismiss himself. It stung a bit, that the shoat (no, not a shoat, he is a human ) didn't want to be around him, but Techno chalked it up to nerves. They were almost to their destination, and after dropping off their cargo and picking up their friends, they'd be on their way to Sol to drop the human off. The kid was probably nervous about meeting new people, and anxious to get home.
It was movie night - a mandatory bonding experience - and Wilbur had managed to find some human movies. Tommy had picked some animated feature called 'Moana' and demanded they watch it, insisting it was an important part of his culture. Something about a 'Disney' and sentient mouse. Phil had asked what a mouse was, and Tommy had, oddly enough, barred his neck in submission before answering.
From his spot in the nearby armchair, Techno narrowed his gaze, watching closely as Tommy thought a moment before straightening his head and answering. Wilbur asked a follow-up about 'Mickey', and Tommy did it again, tilting his head the other way to bare his neck for a moment, pursing his lips and scrunching his brow as he thought, before answering. Phil mimicked the movement as he listened, and Techno felt a pang of guilt in his gut.
Tommy wasn't barring his neck like a piglin, he was cocking his head like an Elytrian .
Tommy hadn't been submitting in understanding when Techno told him to be quiet, he'd been confused. The translators worked with spoken language, not body language, and there had been a misunderstanding as wide as a canyon between them. No wonder the kid wasn't talking to him - he probably thought Techno hated him. More than that, he'd told the child who had been held captive and unable to hold a conversation for a full year to shut up.
Techno got to his feet and, despite there already being three on the couch, motioned for his captain and crewmate to shift over. Wilbur, sitting on the far side of Phil, looked a bit confused, but the Elytrian didn't hesitate, squishing Wil to the side and pulling Tommy along with him as he moved over, making room for Techno on the couch. The piglin sat his bulk down (grateful the other three species were rather slim), and made himself comfortable.
Tommy opened his mouth and made a noise, a complaint half-way off his tongue, before he paused. Techno stretched one arm so it lay along the back of the couch, behind Tommy and Phil's head, and turned to look down at the small human. "Speak up, kid, I can't hear you." He spoke slowly, making sure his tone was even, no hint of the annoyance from three days ago to be heard.
The human met his eyes for a moment, brow pinched, before he opened his mouth. "Budge up, bitch! There ain't enough room for you." He pushed against Techno's side in a pathetic attempt to move the larger man's bulk, and the piglin tilted slightly, humoring him.
"There's plenty of room," he countered, relaxing back into the cushions and allowing his arm to drop from the back of the couch to circle Tommy's shoulders, pressing the boy to lean against his side. "I'm perfectly comfortable."
Tommy squawked (and Phil seemed slightly disappointed at losing his human, but eh, the old man could deal), and gave a token struggle before quickly giving up and leaning against the piglin. "Bastard." He muttered petulantly as Wilbur, who had that insufferable smug 'I know something you don't and you just proved it' look on his face, started the film.
"I'll have you know my parents were married-"
"Shut up, Techno, the movie's starting!" Tommy settled into his side, eyes glued to the movie, and the Piglin almost chuckled at the irony of the statement. He made himself comfortable and watched the movie, and when Tommy hesitantly began pointing out his favorite parts, and comparing him to the demigod, Techno nodded and commented as well, glad that Wilbur had the foresight to turn on the Piglin captions for him.
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"...so then this robot gets upset, right? Cause he loves this girl robot and now she's being abducted by aliens!" Tommy spun in the rolling chair he'd stolen from Techno, who was standing at his workbench, carefully calibrating his pistol. "And so he decides 'Fuck it, I'm going after her!' 'cause he's a manly man like that, and then-"
"Tommy." Techno sucks a deep breath in through his nose and lets it out softly, before turning to face the kid. "I appreciate you want to talk about this movie, and I'm honored you enjoy spending time with me, but I need peace and quiet to properly fulfill this task."
The human stares at him for a moment, and he's worried the scripted response (which Phil had helped him work out, after he'd explained the issue to the captain) isn't translating correctly. Then the kid is nodding, his smile smaller but no less bright.
"No prob, Tech," he pushes the chair slightly and moves towards the workbench. For a moment the Piglin is worried he's going to start asking questions about what he's doing, wanting a play-by-play of how to disassemble, clean, reassemble, and realign an antique plasma pistol, but the kid doesn't say another word. Instead he grabs the datapad Phil had given him and shoves off the desk, pushing himself to the opposite side of the small room. After shooting the piglin a smile, he tucks his legs up on the chair and busies himself with the tablet, finding something to occupy himself.
Techno holds back a relieved smile and turns to his task, resuming wiping down the barrel and checking it for damage. A few minutes into the quiet, Tommy begins to absent-mindedly hum to himself as he reads, and the piglin finds he doesn't mind it at all.
(And if Wilbur is donning that same smug smirk an hour later when he finds the pair in the living area watching Wall-E together, Tommy gesturing wildly as he explains human nuances Techno would have missed, well, Techno doesn't have time to call him out on it. He doesn't want to miss a word the shoat is saying.)