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As the sizzle of Technoblade’s hashbrowns gets to popping territory, the front door of his cabin swings open and Tommy Innit barges through like a man on a mission, shouting in a very demanding voice, “I want pancakes!” Technoblade frowns at the pan he’s cooking in. Other than the fact that he hasn’t seen Tommy since the day Wilbur apologized to him, and that was decidedly a very short visit on Tommy’s end, there is one huge, glaring problem with Tommy’s request.
“I have hashbrowns and eggs?” He says like a question. Almost like an offer. He doesn’t know why he seems to be offering breakfast to Tommy, but Tommy’s already in here and he knows from personal experience that trying to get him out is a fate he wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy. Neither would get out unscathed, and Techno’s trying to have a peaceful morning.
“Okay,” Tommy says, annoyed, like Technoblade is trying to ruin his entire life. “But I want pancakes.”
“That’s, uh, unfortunate,” Technoblade says as he grabs a second plate from the cupboard. “‘Cause see, I wasn’t under the impression you were comin’ today. Considerin’ the everythin’. So I didn’t know I was supposed to provide pancakes.”
“That’s literally on you, Technoblade,” Tommy says, sitting in the chair he always did when he stayed in the arctic, not a moment of hesitation, like not a day has passed and he still lives here. “Maybe if you used that small fucking brain for anything other than reading and withers, you’d’ve picked up on the very obvious ‘Tommy Innit will be coming to my house and demanding pancakes’ vibe.”
“Right. Of course. I’m the stupid one.” Technoblade gently moves the fried eggs from pan to plates. He usually eats two in the morning, but he guesses he can make a one-egg sacrifice. Just this once. He leaves the hashbrowns in a little longer. Tommy prefers them a little crispier than he does.
Tommy puts his elbows on Technoblade’s kitchen table because he’s an animal and plops his face in his hands as he says, “Incredibly embarrassing for you, actually. God knows if you’ll ever recover from this truly unforgivable slip-up.”
Technoblade splits up the hashbrowns to their respective plates as he huffs a laugh and says, “Mmhm.”
“But ‘cause I’m just so damn kind and forgiving, a bit like God if you think about it, I’ll throw you a bone. Just this once.” Technoblade sets a plate in front of Tommy.
“Not pancakes,” he reminds him. A reminder and a warning. You’re not gettin’ what you want from me. I can only give what I’ve got.
“Bone’s already thrown, Techno. Just fuckin’ take it.” Tommy doesn’t let him answer before digging in. Technoblade sits across from him, the way he always did, and does the same. It’s silent, save for Tommy’s obnoxiously loud eating, but it’s familiar. It shouldn’t be considering how long it’s been since Tommy set foot in his cabin for anything other than someone else, but it is familiar in the way a stack of gapples missing from his chests are. Familiar in a way making potions for two people rather than one is. Familiar in a way blowing up a room a country and any chance at mending a broken friendship is.
Technoblade doesn’t really understand why he’s being thrown a bone. How he’s being thrown a bone. He just knows he wants to take it, and he barely understands why he wants that either. Maybe he’s a little tired of explosions. Maybe he’s a little tired of the cold. Maybe he’s a little tired of missing a friend he knows he doesn’t really need to. Blowing up Tommy's room, blowing up L'manburg, it didn’t make him miss Tommy any less. It just left a hole.
When plates are empty and it’s just the two of them in an uncomfortable quiet that Technoblade was comfortable with before Tommy came and upended his life (the last time), he decides he can’t just take it. Not without the conditions.
“Why are you here, Tommy?” He asks. Tommy just scoffs, poking his fork at the crumbs on the empty plate. “Seriously. I- I mean, I’m not sayin’, like, leave and never return or somethin’ like that, but ya gotta give me an explanation.”
“Why?” Tommy demands. “Why the fuck do I need to give you an explanation?”
“I mean, I feel like that’s just pretty standard, Tommy,” Technoblade pushes. “You walk into the house of a guy you’ve barely talked to in a year, he’s gonna want some explanations.”
“I wanted to,” is Tommy’s explanation. It’s really not much of one. For a guy who loves to talk, Tommy’s really being tight-lipped about the one question Technoblade has.
“And?” Techno prompts.
“That’s it, Techno, I wanted to!” He pushes his plate away in frustration. “You didn’t have pancakes, but I’m fuckin’ here eating eggs and hashbrowns. Isn’t that enough?” It shouldn’t be. Maybe Technoblade doesn’t have the best track record with apologies, and maybe he’s at the first time in his life where people other than Phil feel like a constant, but he’s fairly certain when a guy you trust with your life leaves you to join the wolves and you take off sheep's clothing of your own to completely obliterate his country, there needs to be a little more than, I wanted to.
But Tommy sits there, face set in a storm but eyes as bright and determined as they’ve always been, and Technoblade doesn’t want to send him away. Maybe a reconciliation between the two of them doesn’t have to be some dramatic explosion of fighting and apologies where one wins out overall. Maybe they can just meet in the middle.
“I’ll make pancakes tomorrow,” Technoblade decides. “Gettin’ some weird vibes from the ether that say some annoyin’ teenager is gonna come burstin’ through my front door again.”
“That’s some annoying man to you, prick,” but Tommy is smiling. Technoblade thinks he might be too.