Work Text:
Wemmbu had sensed something was wrong the moment he entered the tundra.
He felt it in his gut, the way his tail twitched nervously, how his wings fluttered a little. He felt it in the way his hand subconsciously tightened against Flame’s hand, claws digging into the front of his hand. This caused the netherian demon to look down at him in concern, as if he could tell something was wrong— not in the way Wemmbu did, but in the way he knew Wemmbu’s moods.
More importantly, the SMP was made by Dream, and therefore reflected Dream’s moods. The snow was coming down faster and harder than usual, a sure sign the two of them were fighting— and his dads fighting was rarer than a blue moon. The two were too old to usually warrant something to fight about. It made Wemmbu both nervous and curious. Whatever it was probably pertained to him, as it usually did. Wemmbu narrowed his eyes in front of them as they made their way over to the commune, with Flame walking beside him oblivious, but Wemmbu could feel Flame’s eyes looking down at him through the blindfold. Flame knew something was wrong, because Wemmbu knew something was wrong. Wemmbu was sure Egg knew what was going on, but had known the other long enough to know Egg wasn’t allowed to talk about whatever mysterious abilities were given to him upon his birth. Egg was always a bit mysterious, and Egg seemed like he was Wemmbu’s age— and he’s sure Egg thinks Wemmbu’s oblivious, but Egg carries himself like he’s older. Angel hybrids and Angels can technically live forever, so Wemmbu was sure he was young by comparison to others of his species, but he was at least a hundred years old if Wemmbu had to guess.
When they reach the front doors of Wemmbu’s old home, the door opens immediately with his dad smiling brightly at Egg, and Wemmbu had long stopped questioning the friendship between the two of them, “Egg!” they clap their hands together in the way they do when Dream’s excited by something that was a surprise. Wemmbu, however, almost immediately knew something was wrong when Dream’s eyes drifted to Wemmbu, his smile dimming— oh. Oh no. He promised he wouldn’t; I guess I shouldn’t be surprised— dad’s never been very good at keeping secrets from Pops; I guess I know what they were fighting about, “Oh! And the love birds,” but something like guilt crossed their face before they could help it, and Wemmbu’s frown deepened as a response, because even though he had already come to the conclusion, he didn’t want to. He could feel Flame squeeze his hand in support, confusion coming off of the other in waves, “Uh, Wemm—”
“Oh, Flame’s here, is he?” Wemmbu’s eyes turn to his dad— yep, anger. His eyes are more bloody red than they’ve ever looked to Wemmbu, and there’s a sort of glossing over that reminds Wemmbu he doesn’t know everything about his dads even if he does know more than most. Wemmbu bites back a growl when he notices Techno’s eyes aren’t narrowed on Wemmbu— but Flame. Oh my gods I am going to kill my dad. Techno’s hair is pulled back into his pink ponytail, his mouth is open in a snarl, and Orphan Oblitorator is in hand as he begins to move towards Flame but unluckily for him, Wemmbu was here.
“Nope,” Wemmbu immediately shuts down whatever his Pops was about to do, like fuck I’ll let his ass get his hands on my Flame; Wemmbu pushed past Flame and Egg, eyes narrowed on his dad, golden eyes hardening before he could lose his nerve. And the pure hurt and anger was vicious in his eyes as he glared at Dream. Wemmbu wasn’t surprised when the admin flinched back slightly at the glare. Techno’s growl deepened when he saw the glare Wemmbu shot Dream, and in return, Wemmbu snarled, tail thrashing angrily, his wings starting to flare a little in preparation of what Wemmbu knew was coming. Wemmbu pushed Flame back further, trying not to sink into the heat he loved so much, and trying to give as much distance as possible, his eyes remaining glued on Techno so he couldn’t close the distance in between him and Flame within those careful milliseconds of Wemmbu’s eyes being somewhere else, “Dad go with them, I’ll deal with pops.”
“Deal is insane,” Flame grumbled under his breath, and Wemmbu felt the other squeeze their hand once, the rough callouses molding beautifully with his lithe, unblemished skin. Wemmbu relished in the heat for a moment, and Wemmbu would almost find it soft, remembering their conversation the last time they were here, and knows what’s about to come out of the netherian demon’s mouth before he even finished; so Wemmbu digs his claws into Flame’s hand as the other tries to finish, “I should—”
“You will do no such thing,” Wemmbu growled, eyes still trained on Techno, who for some reason hadn’t moved, but he thinks it’s because Wemmbu is basically using himself as a human shield between the two, and Wemmbu isn’t even sure he recognizes his own voice right now. He can feel his wings flaring protectively as he equipped Gambit with little fanfare, remaining protectively in front of Flame like he was ready to go to war for the netherian demon— which I would, which I will, his voice deep and commanding in a way he rarely used, especially with Flame, content to follow Flame wherever— but this was not a fight Flame could win; realistically, neither could Wemmbu, but Wemmbu also knew Techno would never kill him, he would kill Flame, “You cannot handle pops even on his worst day, you know this. Go. I’ll calm him down, and dad,” Wemmbu snapped at Flame, and narrows his eyes on Dream again, ensuring the other knows how angry Wemmbu is with them right now, who frowns in apology, betrayal lacing his tone as he glared at his dad again, hurt and rawness in his voice as he bit back angry tears, the sting settling in the corners of it, “We’re going to have a talk on what you can share with pops when it comes to me trusting you with something.”
“It wasn’t—”
“I figured it out myself,” Techno growled, red eyes narrowed behind Wemmbu at Flame— and Wemmbu growled protectively, his mouth opening to showcase his sharp canines in annoyance; Techno’s standing tall, unintimidated by the ender demon— which might be a mistake, because Wemmbu wasn’t the same as he was when he left. Wemmbu would not hesitate to drop nukes on his father if it meant he would listen, his ears are pushed back in what is clearly righteous anger like he had any right to decide what Wemmbu was going to do with his life, I chose to forgive Flame and that’s what should matter, “I don’t know exactly—”
“I think it’s pretty rich coming from you, Techno,” Wemmbu growled, the accusation heavy on his tongue as he tried to stay brave— sure it was Pops, but he’s still the blood god. I don’t think he’d ever hurt me, not really, but he’s still the strongest PVPer in history. He wondered if Techno knew he was nervous, but despite being nervous he was angrier than he could ever be nervous. So his tail wasn’t curled around his ankle in nervousness, it was thrashing in anger. His wings flared as he’s fighting back lunging at his dad, anger simmering at the utter hypocrisy of this entire situation— because seriously it was rich coming from Techno after what Dream told him last time. Gambit was in his right hand, and his claws digging into his palm, little purple globs already forming in his palm, again, as he was fighting the urge to jump at his dad and ruin the house— mostly cause he knew Dream would give them so much shit. His golden eyes were narrowed at the god because why did it feel like Techno was acting like a rabid animal— voices or no voices this shit is annoying, the next words are spit out, angry and defensive, purple hair tied back in a ponytail borderline reflecting his pops’, “Considering you abandoned dad after you helped him escape! It’s like all of you netherians are avoidant attachment till you have to go a day without your loved one.”
“Oh, okay!” Techno threw his hands up in the air, angry in the way only a father exasperated with their child could be, and Wemmbu growled at the way his dad was still treating him like he was twelve years old again and he didn’t know what the overworld was like. Yes, admittedly, Techno had like 800 years on him in terms of ages, but Wemmbu wasn’t… he wasn’t stupid and he sure as hell wasn’t inexperienced anymore. Wemmbu’s eyes snapped down to Techno’s sword and how it was still in hand. Wemmbu growled when he saw the way it was still tightening in anger even as it was in the air. Wemmbu shuddered minutely as the snow starting to melt by the pure fury of the netherian; by contrast, Wemmbu, who never really exudes cool air unless he’s angry, is more than compensating it, keeping the snow in a constant melting-recooling cycle; Techno’s voice is all anger, but Wemmbu can smell it— the genuine concern coming off of his pops, but he can’t focus on it, not when he thinks he’ll kill Flame right here, right now, “Five years out on your own and suddenly you think you know everything there is to know about mortals.”
“I’m mortal!” Wemmbu screeched, heat flushing to his face in anger as his voice high pitched higher than it ever had, anger filling his voice and Wemmbu isn’t sure how everyone keeps seeming to forget it. Yes, Demons live longer than most, still hundreds of years, but my life will end someday. And pops is always talking about how mortals are evil and selfish— if that’s true, what does that make me? “I will grow old and die. I don’t forgive people easily— shouldn’t that tell you something about Flame? I made him suffer first! I didn’t let it happen easily, but he—”
Wemmbu relaxed minutely as he realized Egg was ushering Dream and Flame away, because that meant Wemmbu didn’t have to be careful where he slung his nukes. His dad could handle some little ol’ nukes— if the oh so powerful blood god can’t handle a nuke I’m flaming his ass. This finally left Wemmbu to look at his dad with a mild scowl, crossing his arms in clear challenge; Techno’s voice is still angry as he is clearly battling something within, red eyes narrowed and he was clearly still wondering why they were arguing about this, why Wemmbu hadn’t let him kill the insolent bug who hurt his baby, “But you’re different—”
Wemmbu nearly rips his dad’s head off with the swing of Gambit, as he launches into the air, slamming back down with all the force he uses on difficult opponents. He didn’t hesitate after that, he didn’t wait for Techno to tell him he was ready— because I can’t use his style on him, it’s suicide. C’mon Mane prove you were good for something. Techno’s eyes snap open as he glares at Wemmbu from where he’s standing on top of a tree, a totem in hand, and Gambit in the other, as if he couldn’t believe Wemmbu actually swung at him in defense of Flame.
“What the fuck do ya think yer doin’?” Techno’s eyes narrowed on Wemmbu’s form, and Wemmbu shrugged like he hadn’t just dropped the heavy core onto his pops’ head, his voice suddenly an odd mix of incredulity and anger, like he— “Wemmbu, answer me, kid.”
“Clearly the only way to get you to chill out is to fight you. I won’t let you touch Flame, and I sure as hell won’t let you fight him, because you’ll kill him. I know you won’t kill me— at least I hope so; so c’mon, pops, fight me. Get all that bloodlust out,” Wemmbu growled, anger still in his tone, snapping, making Wemmbu feel like he was fifteen again, arguing with Techno about the logistics of player lifespans, because what was he supposed to do? Dream said their arguments always happened in a sparring mat after Dream had been passive aggressive for 2-4 weeks, “What? Too cowardly?”
Techno growled, red eyes narrowing on Wemmbu’s cocky face, holding himself with the sort of confidence you can only have after hundreds of years of experience, “Ya are hundreds of years too young to be talkin’ to me like that, Wemmbu,” eyes narrowed on his mace, like he couldn’t believe that was still his weapon of choice, “I don’t even know why ya bothered to forgive the idiot. He betrayed you!”
“Kinda like how you abandoned Dad at his weakest, huh?” Wemmbu soared up, his wings happy at their usage, Gambit shaking in excitement at getting to “play” with Orphan Oblitorator again, before coming back down with a vengeance, letting his wings keep his body from hurting himself, by fluttering them a bit before he hit the ground. His tail continued to thrash angrily as he dropped onto the ground, sinking a little in the deep snow before it hardened into ice with the excess coolness he was exuding in anger. He went to pull out vlatka and swinging it with little thought to any surrounding mobs— there were no players besides the commune, so he knew it was fine, but cringed inwardly when he thought about Techno having to explain this to Phil specifically; netherite clashing against netherite, causing his dad to flinch at the noise, reminding Wemmbu of their obvious weakness, “letting him leave when you helped him escape prison despite knowing how weak his body would be in that state is insane— especially for someone who preaches about fucking loyalty. And it was all because Ranboo got killed— who Dream revived! Seriously, tweaking about him being dead when your husband— oh right, rival knows how to revive people is insane.”
Techno growled, moving to thrust the sword on Wemmbu’s hair, aiming to cut it, but Wemmbu ducked quickly, jumping back and breathing heavy from the weight of emotions from the battle, frustration in his every atom of his being as he snapped at Wemmbu’s stupid remarks as if he weren’t making valid remarks; there was only one situation where Techno lost his head— and the common denominator was betrayal, “Ya don’t understand nothin’ about that. Yer 100 years too young to be talkin’ to me about emotional regulation.”
Wemmbu scoffed, rolling his eyes so deep it could have been considered a personal insult on Techno’s integrity, “Even I have more emotional awareness than you— do you know how sad that is? Me, who’s bipolar, has more emotional regulation than you! A god! Who has roamed this godsforsaken universe for nearly 800 years! And the fact Dream told you is insane—”
“Yer dad didn’t tell me shit, that’s the problem kid! Ya didn’t either and left me in the dark! What was I supposed to think? And I figured it had to do with ya fakin’ yer death,” Techno approaches again, this time getting a clear cut at Wemmbu, causing Wemmbu to whimper when Techno leaves numerous deep cuts across his shirt, and then going into his skin.
Techno almost hesitates.
Wemmbu doesn’t.
He flies into the air, summoning his orbital strike canon, and drops it. He watches in satisfaction as the circles of TNT, loud and chaotic, drop onto the god— who Wemmbu knows will be fine, because the god is immortal and there is nothing save for a God that can kill him.
“WhAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?” Techno screeches— yes, screeches— from the ground, clear shock in his voice, even as he avoids it. Wemmbu knew the other had heard tales of Wemmbu’s nukes, but Wemmbu had never gotten around to showing them to the other, so he tried not to cackle at the response. Wemmbu takes this chance to take a golden apple from his inventory, eating it and letting the wounds stitch themselves up, the remaining blood drying quickly in the cold, leaving it caked against his skin as his fight continues, “Wemmbu—”
“Told you I got some new tricks, pops!” Wemmbu laughed manically, as he flew back down, Gambit in hand as he smashes Techno, a totem popping and Wemmbu nearly laughs in pride as Techno stitches himself back together and lands a solid kick to Wemmbu’s stomach sending Wemmbu flying back— gods I forgot how physically strong he is on top of being skilled. Some people just have it all, huh.
Techno growled, narrowing his eyes on Wemmbu again, his voice desperate as he’s searching for answers, as if he needs the answers more than he needs air, “Why forgive the idiot? What’s special about him?”
“Why did dad forgive you?” Wemmbu throws back again, his voice ugly, and the words uglier, because he knew they’d hurt; but then he goes to lean on Gambit for a second, since Techno had frozen, eyes wide in clear shock, maybe hurt, “besides, I don’t have all the time in the world. You knew this when you took me in. I don’t get to live forever. I met someone who completes me, someone who makes me want to be better, who does make me better. He’s… good. Despite how evil we are, he’s good. He’s strong and steadfast, hard working and so loyal, pops. He’s loyal— he just lost himself okay? He got scared. Mortals get scared. Most people don’t have eight hundred years worth of experience. Mortals learn from their mistakes. You’d know that if you spent longer around them. But noooo, one mistake and all of a sudden they’re dead to you!”
“I have dealt with mortals my entire life, kid,” Techno sighed tiredly, in that way Wemmbu knew the fight was leaving his body, and Wemmbu knew it was true. Wemmbu could yell shit all he wanted, but Techno had been alive a long time, the type of time Wemmbu couldn’t even comprehend, “Yer still young, that’s yer fault, there’s so much ya have to know,” he sighed deeply again, rolling his eyes as he finally leans Orphan Oblitorator like it’s the only thing keeping him standing, and admittedly it brings Wemmbu pride knowing he got Technoblade like that, “I just… why can’t I just do this for you? Why can’t— just let me help you.”
Wemmbu scowled, rolling his eyes, still leaning onto Gambit like she was the only thing keeping her standing, “I’m not—” he looked away, biting back tears because he knew what this was. Techno was still struggling with letting Wemmbu go live his life. Wemmbu knew Dream was better at emotional regulation. Wemmbu knew Dream had accepted the fact Wemmbu was living his life, and how he had chosen Flame, and how Flame would forever be his person— how Flame had changed the very shape of his soul, not in a bad way, Wemmbu was very much still himself but he was better; he learned how to breathe again, he learned how to dance slowly in their base, he learned how to draw because it was a pastime Flame loved, he learned so much because he loved so hard.
And Dream knew that. Dream trusted Wemmbu.
It wasn’t that Techno didn’t trust Wemmbu, it was that if it was Techno’s choice, Wemmbu would have never left. Techno would have kept their little family together for their entire life, which was forever. And Wemmbu would have been protected.
But Wemmbu wouldn’t have been happy, for Wemmbu was a bird who yearned for freedom.
“Pops, I…” he sighed deeply, how can I try to explain? When I do, he turns away again. Wemmbu thought miserably, and really did feel the stinging sensation at the edge of his eyes, like the tears were fighting a losing battle cause Wemmbu would not cry right now, “Can you just listen? For once? Just trust me please? You don’t even have to like him yet, just know he is everything to me. Why can’t you understand that?”
Techno flinched back, like he had been slapped, like he couldn’t understand loyalty wasn’t the most important thing and how it wasn’t perfect— because mortals weren’t perfect and Techno wasn’t mortal, “but why—”
Wemmbu just threw his head back and screamed— loud, visceral, angry, finally letting out all of his frustration knowing they were far away enough to not hear whatever Wemmbu was screaming, “Techno! He means a lot to me, I love him! I want to be with him forever, when he asks me to marry him, I’ll say yes, and dammit if he asks for your permission you better say yes or I’m smiting you, you oaf. It doesn't matter what you want, this is my life. I’ll make mistakes, I’ll learn from them, just like Flame. We’re young, gods we’re so young. Just… please Pops. I need you to support me on this, please.”
Techno softened, blood staining his shirt, the shoulders ripped off the deep cuts from where he clearly hadn’t noticed them, his body relaxing as he sighed deeply, raising an eyebrow in a little bit amusement— which was a welcome sight after that entire exchange, “Ya sure this is the one ya want?”
“Yes.”
“Alright kid, I’ll do this for ya.”
“Thanks Pops,” Wemmbu softened to, hesitant for a second before crossing the space that separated him and grabbed him into a hug, burying himself in his dad’s warmth, letting himself relax. Letting himself find comfort in his pops, his pops who would tear the world down if it so much as made Wemmbu uncomfortable, his pops who would kill for him, who would live for him, who would be kind for him— who would set aside his violent nature for him.
And Wemmbu knew he was loved.
Techno paused for a second before bringing his arms around Wemmbu, squeezing like Wemmbu like if he let him go he’d vanish. Wemmbu curled into his dad’s chest like it was the only safe place in the world, his tail curling around the piglin-hybrid’s shin, squeezing once to let him know it was there. Techno let out a snort, and the words seem almost easy, as if he’s commenting on the weather, “He’s a lucky son of a bitch.”
“He knows it,” Wemmbu whispered, softly like they weren’t alone, because yes, Flame was lucky Wemmbu had forgiven him— but Wemmbu was also lucky to have Flame, and Wemmbu could list all the reasons he was, but he was content to just tell Techno what he wanted to hear (and it just so happened to also be true), “I made him earn it.”
Techno brought him within an arms length before sighing, ruffling his hair, soft, easy, affectionate, Techno, “Alright kid, time to go make up with our idiots.”
Wemmbu laughed, bright and real, shaking his hair a little, bringing his thin, pale lavender hands to brush through them, “Sure Pops, I’m sure they’ve been worried.”
“Yeah and make sure you apologize to Dream for all the bombs, you know the server’s connected to his body.”
“Oops,” Wemmbu knew he didn’t sound all that apologetic, but maybe Dream shouldn’t have snitched on him to the blood god who is notoriously sensitive about betrayal.
Techno smacked him over the back of the head, and grumbled affectionately, “Idiot,” as the two walked back to the front of the cabin to wait for the three idiots to return. Wemmbu was content, because now everything was out in the open and Wemmbu didn’t have to hide anything anymore. Wemmbu knew it would all be okay because he had his parents, his Eggchan, and most importantly, his Flame.
Suddenly the future didn’t seem all that scary anymore.
Because how wonderful it was to be loved, and to be loved well.