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"Watch your leg, kid."
"Oh yeah?" Tommy snapped, "Which one?"
Techno grimaced.That was deserved, he supposed.
Despite the vitriol, Tommy shifted in his arms, tucking his foot up so Techno could settle him onto the cushions. The main room of the cabin was dim, the fire burning low in the grate and painting everything in dim light. Techno took just a moment to fuss with the woolen blankets around Tommy's shoulders before he turned to the fireplace, building up the flame.
The arctic was an unforgiving place. Techno didn't regret settling here, not when he had Philza just a few blocks away, but the sickly teenager on his couch made every gust of wind a threat. The darkness felt thicker, the cold more biting. He couldn't take any risks.
Satisfied with the warmth, Techno turned back to Tommy. The kid made no move as Techno settled on his knees in front of him, staring into the fire as Techno folded back the blanket wrapped around his legs. The yellow light danced over his face, tracing the hollows of his cheeks, the dip of his collarbone. His hair, matted and tangled, ratted in lumps around his head like a twisted halo. Still, the distant look in Tommy's eyes was his biggest concern.
"Hey, kid." Techno kept his voice low as he undid the clasp keeping Tommy's pant leg pinned back. "We really gotta do something about your hair."
It worked. Tommy stiffened, the stump of his thigh twitching under Techno's hands.
"Why?" He didn't let Techno continue, words falling out of his mouth like the gait of a stumbling, unruly colt. "Not everyone can have crazy hair like you, man. Oh, I'm Technoblade, I get no bitches but at least my hair is luscious ." Tommy drew out the last word, and Techno's lips quirked, hidden as he turned to the pile of supplies set out on the low table behind him.
"The leg was the priority." Techno said, turning back. Tommy was still tense as Techno slid the padded sleeve onto his thigh. "But the hair's next. I do not need lice in my bed."
It was only a partial lie. He really didn't want lice in his bed, but Tommy had been sleeping in it since he'd arrived. Techno would have noticed any little invaders. He'd even checked one night when Tommy had managed to fall asleep, his cheeks red with fever, but finger combing only went so far with his hair so matted.
"Fuck you, man." Tommy snapped, watching Techno’s hands like a hawk. "I'll have you know my hair is lovely." His fingers twisted in the blanket. "It's not dirty ."
"I know, runt." Techno said, reaching for the roll of bandages. "I like your hair."
The easy admission had Tommy looking up from his leg, his eyes narrowed.
"But it can't be comfortable," Techno continued firmly, "So here's what's going to happen." He cupped his hand under Tommy's leg, lifting it slightly so he could start wrapping. "You're either gonna let me cut it, or I'll go find some awkward potions. Or some crying obsidian. We'll try and comb it out."
Tommy said nothing, so Techno didn't either. It was tricky binding the padding securely, so he focused on that, letting Tommy think it over. This, at least, he would let Tommy choose. The kid hadn't had another option when Techno found him stumbling near his cabin in the snow. When Techno held his hand tight around a totem as the fever raged through him, burning him to ash. When he'd woken up one leg short of what he'd fallen asleep with. His runt clearly couldn't be trusted with his own health. Still, Tommy was fragile in a way Techno had never seen from him. If it gave Tommy some semblance of his old confidence, Techno would cut off his runt’s golden hair a hundred times over, no matter how it pained him.
"You won't cut it?"
Tommy's voice, tentative and so so small, made Techno's heart ache. Still, he didn't want to make a promise he couldn't keep. Tommy'd had enough of that in his life.
"Only if I can't detangle it." Techno lowered Tommy's thigh back to the cushion, reaching to cup his chin instead. Tommy flinched at the touch, but Techno ignored it, stroking a soothing thumb over his cheek. His runt would need to get used to this. "You've been growing it out for so long, it'd be a shame to change it. I'll get the supplies tomorrow."
Tommy looked away, restlessly fiddling with the green kerchief around his throat. Techno had the sudden suspicion he didn't want to know why Tommy would be nervous to have shears near his face.The question of just what had happened in Tommy's exile still hung, unspoken, over them both. Its weight was as tangible as the length of polished oak laid out on the floor, thicker above the hinge joint of the knee and curving down to a slender ankle.
Tommy had yet to even mention it.
"Now," Techno said, changing the topic. "I'm gonna start making dinner. Do you want to try out your leg, or do you want to come help me in the kitchen?"
"Kitchen, obviously." Tommy said, a little too quickly. His nose wrinkled with disdain. "Someone's got to remind you that spices exist."
"Heh?" Techno couldn't help but laugh. "What do you mean? Salt counts."
Honestly, he hadn't dared make anything stronger than bone broth after watching Tommy heave into a bucket for days. The kid was more malnourished than he'd realized.
"Prime, you sound like Wilbur."
Tommy winced at his own words, and Techno pretended not to notice. He reached forward, gathering Tommy up and letting the kid settle his arms securely around his neck before standing. The kitchen table wasn't far, but the kid weighed almost nothing, and he wasn't going to make him hop.
"Well," Techno murmured, "He wasn't wrong about everything."
Tommy glanced up at him. Gods, he was young. So tiny and vulnerable in his arms. Before, all he'd seen was Tommy's fire. His bluster and brashness. Techno had craved the loyalty Wilbur had so effortlessly received and blatantly squandered. He craved it still. Not in battle. No, not anymore. Something softer. Gentler.
Despite himself, Techno brushed his nose against Tommy's forehead, careful not to disturb his matted hair. It would be so lovely once it was all combed out. Golden and smooth and his to care for.
He'd take care of his runt tomorrow.