Archive of Our Own

Incisors.

Molars.

Canines.

Incisors.

Molars.

Canines.

Or tusks?

He writhes as the pickaxe is brought up to his mouth. The crack of bones and a sharp whine sounded like a gunshot amid the windy landscape.

Blood trickles down his lips and onto the dirt.

“Remember this.”

The wind whistled in Tommy's ears. Whipping every which way, but no matter the direction, the cold slices against his skin like a sharpened blade. Every step makes his legs a little more numb. Pins and needles in his left foot where he'd lost a shoe somewhere between Tubbo calling for him to be escorted out of L’manberg and throwing himself off that tower-

Everything between that feels all fuzzy.

But that doesn't matter. Only the weak would let something like hypothermia take them out, and TommyInnit is, famously, the Biggest Man Ever. He'd survived exile, he could trek a couple miles through the searing cold, snow piling up higher around him with each passing moment. It wasn't like he could stop now anyways.

Not when the warm light of Technoblade's cabin drew ever closer.

The fucker had really been living it up during his retirement, hadn't he? The cabin stood alone against the snowy backdrop. It was well lit, smoke flooded from the chimney like large, grey clouds. Tommy felt his pace quicken. There's a fire going inside, and someone tending to it for it to be so steady, even as the moon rose toward the top of the sky. An empty animal pen stood beside the stairs, though he could still hear the soft breighs and whines of Technoblade's pets, all of whom must've been put up and away from the harsh winter wind.

If only he could be so lucky.

Like a beacon in the dark. Tommy didn't have the mental fortitude to question how he found Technoblade's cabin so quickly, or even why this was where he'd chosen to take sanctuary. There was no time to ask questions when he was already there. Already climbing up the front steps. And it was warm. So warm. The heat that radiated from behind the door felt like gentle hands— when was the last time he felt those? —beckoning him inside as he twisted the knob without even considering if the cabin's occupants were awake and willing to take strays.

Something about the sword pointed at his throat made him lean towards a maybe.

"What d’you think you're doing, Tommy?" Technoblade interrogated, sword glinting in the light of the nearby fire.

It was by far the friendliest greeting he'd gotten since his exile— he didn't mean that, he and Dream were friends. At least they had been until Tommy messed it up—-

What was happening?

Oh right, the sword to his throat.

"Tryin' to come in, dickhead." Tommy grumbled. Perhaps he wasn't as bothered by the threat as he should be. Maybe it was because things like that had basically become part of his daily routine, but he'd rather chop it up to exhaustion. Less mentally taxing that way. In the past month, he'd already had enough breakdowns for his liking.

"I can see that. Why're you here?" Technoblade repeated himself. His voice took on that awful tone, like it would in Pogtopia. Where, even when he had nothing to go off of, Techno acted like he had all the answers. Like he was nothing more than a petulant child who needed everything explained to him. Tommy hated when he did that.

He hated it still, it seemed. Because he evaded the piglin completely, motivated by something far stronger than the need to get away from Technoblade's stupid questions. Tommy ducked beneath his sword and slipped right past him, and into the cabin.

A wave of heat, hot as the Nether, washed over the teen. As he suspected, the fireplace harbored large, flickering tendrils of warmth that climbed over the many pieces of firewood placed inside.

To his right was a small kitchen area with a counter beside the entrance, a furnace crackling with life against the wall, and a few chests lined up beside it– presumably filled with food and the like. There was a staircase to his left that had even more storage tucked underneath it. In the center of the room, a large, plush couch sat directly across from the fireplace. Many blankets had been stacked along the back of it, as if Techno had gathered them all together for something.

Tommy tripped his way inside. He caught himself on the wall before he could make himself look like more of a fool than he was sure Technoblade thought him to be, using it to hold him upright. As the feeling slowly began to return to his legs, he limped the rest of the way toward the fireplace.

Pants scuffed and covered in dirt, large holes littered the sides from all the times he could remember when Dream pushed him down into the holes after he'd exploded his stuff. Those were good times. At least he thinks they were. They- they were weren't they? His bare foot was covered in scrapes, skin nearly blue to his ankle, while the sole of his remaining shoe was held on by literal threads. Dried blood gathered around his old scrapes to form scabs. The closer he got to the fire, the more he felt his legs start to give out from underneath him.

He wouldn't describe what he did after that sitting down. More like he just let go of the arm of the couch and let gravity do the rest. Falling back into the cushion, it sank beneath his weight. It felt soft and comforting, bathed in the warmth of the fire.

It felt safe.

Techno's lip twitched in distaste.

"You're tracking dirt everywhere." He complained, stepping right in front of the boy's line of sight, blocking his view of the fire.

Asshole.

Tommy frowned, but it was more of a pout if he was being honest. His eyes bored up to meet Technoblade 's.

"Since when do you care about dirt? You're a pig." Tommy said, letting out an 'oink' to further illustrate his statement.

Techno didn't seem amused.

"Piglin," He clarified, earning a scoff from Tommy. "And I care because I don't like havin' to clean up messes first thing before hibernation."

Tommy raised a brow at that.

"What?" He squawked.

Technoblade pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Tommy, I hardly have the energy, so I will ask you one more time. Why are you in my house?" He asked, exasperated.

"You answer my question first," Tommy demanded. Despite his current state, he perked up. "What do you mean Piglins are s'pposed to hibernate?"

Technoblade shrugged. He turned away from the conversation so he could tend to the fire. "I don't answer to vagrants."

"Isn't it enough that I wanted to grace you with my presence, Technoblade?" Tommy sing-songed.

For some reason, he still wasn't sure why he came to Technoblade's. It definitely wasn't because it was the easiest place to get to; his frostbitten skin can attest to that. He just felt this need— like a longing deep in his chest he could only satisfy the further he trekked through the aching cold.

"Last time I came to visit you, you told me you hated me." Techno mused.

Oh yeah. Tommy forgot about that little interaction. Just a few days after he was exiled, Technoblade came dressed in blue, yammering endlessly about how he was retired now, after blowing up L'manberg. To be honest, Tommy was still reeling so hard from Tubbo's betrayal that he hardly paid much attention to the man, other than to remind him of their last interaction.

("If you wanna be the hero, Tommy, then die like one!"

The desperate roars of a beast not made for this world filled his already ringing ears.

Wilbur's body was still warm as the Withers rose to the sky. Indifferent in their destruction, decimating whatever his TNT hadn't managed to blow up. A symphony forever unfinished.)

That felt like years ago...

"Well..." Drumming his fingers on his lap, Tommy quickly found himself too tired, too exhausted to think of any more excuses. His body ached, the longing still lingered in his chest, and the overwhelming urge to sleep the years away instead of continuing this conversation was something he heavily entertained. "Maybe I realized that...I don't have to stay in Logstershire, I'm just banned from L'manberg, ay? Nothing's stoppin' me from going on a world tour."

"A world tour, huh? So you'll be off by the morning, I suppose? The world's big. Lots of places to see." Technoblade had pushed himself back up to his feet. Brushing the ash off his pants, he did not wait for Tommy to answer as he padded toward the kitchen to tend to the furnace, which had fizzled out.

A beat passed, and then another. He could hear Technoblade behind him, grabbing items and opening chests. Tommy's silence was getting to be answer enough.

"I suppose a deal's a deal. You answered my question, so I'll answer yours." Techno hummed as he approached the furnace, which seemed to crackle back to life behind Tommy.

He relaxed, grateful for the change in subject. "Yeah, I've never heard of pigs having to fuckin hibernate."

Tommy could hear the sounds almost leave Technoblade's lips. A strained 'P' as if he were going to correct him again, before he decided that he couldn't be bothered.

"It's not a full hibernation. I get up, eat enough to get me through the next fit of sleep, tend to the fire, and all that."

Tommy leaned back against the couch. Craning his head far enough to see Techno as he went back and forth, grabbing things from his food chests and checking on the food as it cooked.

"Do you piss?" Tommy suddenly asked in full seriousness.

A pause. Then an exhale. Technoblade nodded. "Yes, Tommy, I'll probably use the bathroom too."

"Good, because y'know it's not healthy to be holding that in, it'll give you an infection." He went on.

Technoblade ignored him. "Besides that, it's just sleeping for weeks at a time. To be honest, it's a real damper on the supplies, but it's nothing I don't get back in the spring-"

That earned a scoff from Tommy. "Doesn't sound like such a big deal to me. I'd sleep for weeks during L'manberg— y'know, before you blew it up— and I wasn't such a dick about it."

A pause. Technoblade turned to shoot Tommy a look. He's not quite sure what it was supposed to mean. Or even if he was supposed to see it. But he does anyway.

He snatched a blanket off the pile Technoblade had stacked on the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself.

"You would?" Technoblade asked sharply. "Tommy, I don't think that's healthy."

The teenager scoffed and waved him off. "'Course it was- until Tubbo or Wilbur would wake me up 'cause they needed something- clingy fuckers they are— er, were in Wilbur's case."

"Yeah, but you're not a hybrid." Technoblade pointed out. The same tone from before twinged his voice again. But this time Tommy's finally got the jump on him. Ha. Dumbass.

"Yes, I am." He answered as he stretched his legs out on the couch until he was comfortable. Already thinking about snagging another blanket from the pile.

A pause came from the kitchen as Techno stopped what he was doing. "Alright, I'll bite. What kind of hybrid are you, Tommy?"

"Piglin."

"Heh?" The shock in the man's voice was apparent. Footsteps pad quickly along the wooden floor, and Tommy cracks an eye open to see Technoblade standing over him with a quizzical stare. As if looking at him for the first time again.

Tommy's lips pressed into a thin line. "Stop looking at me like that!"

"You're not a piglin." He stated it as if saying it would just turn it into fact.

"I am!" Tommy argued. He propped himself up against the arm of the couch. Only to slide his fingers through his knotted, overgrown hair to show his ears. Long and pointed, just like Technoblade's.

Tommy watched as the expression on Technoblade's face shifted from denial to shock to concern before it finally twisted into something he couldn't quite recognize. "Hybrids start to grow in their features as teenagers. Why didn't you have yours during Pogtopia?"

"’ Dunno." Tommy shrugged.

It was the strangest thing. Tommy didn't have any hybrid features nearly as soon as he should have, but neither did Tubbo, at least at the time. Looking at the pair, you'd assume they were just normal human teenagers. Until Wilbur and Tommy lost the election, and Tubbo was enlisted as a spy for Pogtopia to keep tabs on Manberg. He'd come visit, bringing stories of Schlatt's drunken rants and his supposed plans on how to "improve" L'manberg, but most importantly, he'd bring food. Which was a hot commodity in Pogtopia- considering they lived in a fucking cave and had been banished with nothing but what they had on their backs. It was clearly scraps from meals Tubbo had stashed away for him— Tommy would be a liar if he said he wasn't at least a little jealous that Tubbo was getting full meals, three a day no less— but it got them through it. During that time, Tubbo had gone from having no signs of any hybrid attributes to suddenly growing a full head of ram horns in the few months between him becoming Schlatt's lackey to The Red Festival.

Meanwhile, Tommy's had only grown in recently. In the few months of normalcy and good food, he got before Tubbo exiled him.

"And you knew this whole time? How come I never knew of this?" If Tommy didn't know any better, he'd say Technoblade seemed a bit offended at the thought he had another Piglin in his midst without even knowing it. His lips twist into a small smirk; he'd rather enjoyed keeping Techno on his toes.

"Because it was none of your business, dickhead." Tommy boasted.

Technoblade's eyes narrowed again. Still giving him that look, as if he's a puzzle with a missing piece or a book with a page torn out of it. He imagined Techno probably had that look whilst he plotted the best way to take down L'manberg.

A shiver went down his spine.

"That seems to be the case..." The elder man muttered, seemingly letting slip whatever fucked up shit was happening in his internal monologue. (What a place that must be, Tommy would wonder what it was like in there, but he already knew. Something akin to, "Meh, meh, meh, I'm Technoblade, I think I'm the smartest person on the server just because I read books and blow stuff up, meh, meh, meh." News flash, Technoblade, that summed up about most of the server!)

"Stop fuckin—" Tommy huffed in frustration. "—lookin' at me like that and muttering to yourself. You're being creepy!" He waved him off, which seemed to snap Technoblade out of his thoughts.

"Heh? Oh." Much to his frustration, Technoblade did not immediately leave at Tommy's say so. (That longing in his chest subsided a little when he didn't.) And he seemed to consider something, preferably unrelated to the mumbling Tommy had heard, he hoped, before standing to attention.

"Are you hungry, Tommy?" Technoblade asked. A sudden hospitality in his tone that sounded foreign coming from him. (Or most people, really)

Tommy's stomach twisted in knots at the thought of food. If he remembered right, the last time he ate something that wasn't stale, moldy bread was his beach party with Dream. He remembered it well. The disappointment, the daunting realization that, in fact, he was stuck here for the foreseeable future. If no one had cared enough to show up to his stupid party, then they sure as hell wouldn't come save him. Even still, despite the clear failure the party had turned out to be, Dream still made them sit down and eat the cake that sat in the center of the table. The sugar still left an overwhelming aftertaste of nausea on his tongue.

Phantom pains in his mouth.

Bile threatening to rise up in his throat.

“‘M alright,” Tommy muttered, swallowing thickly.

The sound Technoblade made gave Tommy the impression that he’d chosen the wrong answer. He shuffled back into the kitchen. Tommy could hear him prod at the furnace and grab something out of a chest.

“You’re having something to eat.” He decided.

What? Tommy poked his head over the back of the couch and gaped at Technoblade as he stabbed a few small holes into a potato and slid it into the furnace.

“I said I wasn’t hungry.”

Techno shook his head. There was a soft, almost rhythmic thudding of a knife repeatedly hitting a cutting board. “You’re a piglin. It’s hibernation season. You need to eat, or you’ll be gettin’ up every couple days and trust me, you’ll be starvin’.”

A huff left the teenager as he sank back into the couch. Bringing his knees up to his chest, his gaze fluttered to the blankets pooled around his feet. How was he supposed to know about that? He grumbled, a half-hearted insult under his breath.

It wasn’t like someone was around to teach him these things. He thought bitterly to himself, although it was of no one’s fault but his own that he never told Technoblade about his hybrid status. Between war plans and Wilbur’s dwindling sanity, it didn’t seem like something he could just work into casual conversation.

“Who said I was gonna hibernate?” Tommy asked pointedly.

Technoblade grunted– no, he snorted –and suddenly he was behind the couch, grabbing a blanket from the pile and tossing it over Tommy’s lap.

“I did.” He said as he piled more blankets on top of Tommy until it felt like he was going to snap under the weight of them all.

“How the hell d’you sleep under all of these?!” Tommy grunted as he struggled beneath them. Fighting until he could poke his arms out from under the pile.

“Maybe if you ever practiced proper hibernation practices, you’d be used to stuff like this by now,” Techno said, as if he were scolding the boy, before he backtracked. “Guess I can't blame you for it, you're only a runt.”

“Excuse me?!” Tommy squawked in offense. Finally pushing some of the blankets off of him, he let them fall into a pile in his lap.

Technoblade moved on instinct alone. It was a bit shocking, watching the same fast-paced movements and quick thinking he'd seen Techno use in combat a dozen times be used to chop vegetables and gather more supplies from his chests.

The knife thudded against the cutting board in rapid succession as Technoblade tossed more veggies onto the board. “A runt. It's what piglins call their young.” He explained before he let out an exasperated sigh. “I can't believe I never even realized–”

A strange feeling seized Tommy’s chest as he watched the hybrid work. Fingers looped through the stitching of one of the blankets piled on top of him as he waited for the other shoe to drop. When Technoblade would turn around and announce that this was all just a joke, and demand Tommy leave his cabin before his sword found its way back to his neck.

The longing in his chest returned at the mere thought of being alone again. Without Techno.

But it had to be the only explanation for this sudden hospitality he was showing. There had to be a catch. That's how it was in exile, if Tommy did everything right, and he threw his hard-earned items into the hole each morning just for Dream to blow them up again, and he was happy right where he was, and he was so, so, so sorry for everything he'd ever done to spite the man. He got beach parties and visits to the Nether. He spent the day a little less in pain. As much as he hated to think about it, that's how it was back in L'manberg too. Even before Pogtopia, if Tommy wasn't the perfect little toy soldier Wilbur needed, then he was discarded until he could prove himself again.

So then, what did Technoblade want?

The man had more than enough supplies; he was practically one of the richest people on the server, the fucker. Tommy himself wasn't of any use; he was exiled from his own country by his best friend. That alone eliminated any plans of turning him into a spy for L'manberg or being used as leverage against Tubbo.

He was useless.

The smell that wafted through the cabin interrupted Tommy from his thoughts. His eyes dragged up from the spot on the floor they'd settled onto and found the table where Technoblade sat. Two plates laid out in front of him, both piled high with food. And damn it if it doesn’t make his stomach churn. It was a silent command, when Techno pulled both chairs at the table out. Eyeing the teenager to take the empty seat when he sits down. The longing in his chest pulling him up by his strings in order to follow it. How long had it been since he shared a meal with someone?

Tommy tugged off his blankets, movements sluggish as his legs slide off the couch. Immediately, he aches, his limbs not quite ready to be in use again as he stands on shaking limbs like a newborn calf. Every movement popped a different joint, and reawakened an old wound. He stumbled, nearly forcing Technoblade to rise from his seat before he caught himself on the table.

“‘M fine.” He mumbled, before Techno could even ask. Tommy practically fell into his seat, his eyes found the plate sat in front of him, and his mouth watered.

A baked potato, steam wafting off the top, it’d already been sliced open to reveal the fluffy insides. Bits of chives and other herbs decorated the top, filling the air with its scent. A square of butter had been placed on top, already partially melted. With bits of cooked vegetables piled beside it, already seasoned to perfection. It looked divine.

"Sorry I don't got much meat right now. Hope that's good enough." Techno said, stabbing pieces of carrot onto his fork.

"It's fine," Tommy muttered. It was more than fine, actually. He wasn't sure if he could stomach meat in his current state. The plate sat in front of him, untouched, as he stared at it. His stomach twisted in acidy knots at the mere thought of trying to swallow any of it down, despite how good it looked.

Phantom pains danced in his mouth.

He didn't want to eat. For the sake of his own ego, he didn't want to open his mouth. But when he looked across the table, Technoblade watching him expectantly, goosebumps trailed up his spine at the sight. Fuck. Techno was gonna get mad if he didn't eat, wasn't he? He'd toss Tommy outside until he could appreciate the kindness he was being shown. He didn't think he could handle another minute in that biting cold. So, Tommy reluctantly picked his fork up off the table. Scooping some of the baked potato onto the silver before bringing it up to his lips. Face scrunched up in anticipation, he shoved it into his mouth.

Immediately, Tommy melted. Letting the warm, buttery potato coat his throat as he swallowed it down. The first bite of good food he'd had in so, so long. He found himself shoveling more and more down. Hardly savoring the taste. God, he forgot how good of a cook Technoblade could be.

A chuckle from across the table broke him from his daze. Tommy's eyes darted up, like he'd been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. But Techno didn't shout or reprimand him for his poor table manners. Instead, he took his own fork and piled some of the food from his plate onto Tommy's.

"You should eat more vegetables. They'll help fill you up more." Techno insisted.

Dread pooled in Tommy’s stomach. Scrunching his nose at the large helping that had been piled onto his plate. It wasn't that he didn't want to eat them or that they didn't look good— the opposite, really. They looked so good, and now that he'd gotten a proper meal in his system, Tommy’s stomach could only grumble for more.

"No I—" Don't make him mad. Don't make him mad. Don't make him mad. Tommy quickly pivoted, nodding solemnly as he stabbed his fork into a piece of carrot. "Okay,"

He swallowed thickly as he brought the fork up to his lips again. Movements timid, face scrunched up in anticipation of what he knew was coming. Meanwhile, Technoblade seemed completely unaware of the sheer internal struggle he'd caused inside of Tommy. Prick. Why couldn't he just eat his potato in peace? No, that— he doesn't mean that, not truly. Techno had showed Tommy kindness. He could've kicked the boy out the second he turned up at his door. What did it matter to him if Tommy froze? But no, Techno went through all the trouble of making him something to eat, of letting him possibly hibernate here, even if Tommy pestered him throughout the entire process.

If anything, this was mercy. Something Tommy knew was the very last thing he deserved.

He popped the carrot slice into his mouth. For a moment, it was heaven, whatever combination of spices Technoblade had used to cook the vegetables blended together wonderfully. It hadn't been under- or overcooked—something that was a commodity in itself. Food was already such a rare thing for Tommy nowadays. Forget anything cooked (usually because he scarfed whatever he was handed within seconds of it reaching his hands). The very, very few times he'd attempted to cook something for himself always came out charred and black —this, however, was perfect. But Tommy knew he couldn't just sit there with the carrot held in his mouth. So, he took a chance and bit into the carrot piece.

A sharp pain shot through his mouth almost immediately. It lingered in his gums, making old wounds suddenly feel very, very fresh.

Silverware clinked as Tommy shot up from the table, clutching his face. Making a beeline towards the door. He couldn't let Technoblade see him like this. He can't let Techno know.

Icy winds hit like a blade to the chest as he stepped outside. If Techno got up to follow, he couldn't hear it, not over the wind that blasted in his ears, threatening to topple him over. Tommy stilled at the bottom step, hunching over the fresh bed of snow that had covered the ground since he'd arrived, but never touching it—coward, an all too familiar voice chimed in through the pain. It'd be better for everyone if you'd just let yourself freeze out here. It'd certainly make Tubbo's life a whole lot easier— Tommy coughs up the food he'd been holding in his mouth. Small droplets of blood dye the snow pink as they make contact with it.

He clasped a hand over his mouth, chest heaving as the pain danced through his nerves. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. The bleeding had only just stopped on the walk to Technoblade's cabin. Now it'd returned full swing. He spat out what he could, coloring more of the snow the same rosy shade. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he sobbed. A desperate, ugly, pained sound.

A hand darted out and grabbed his shoulder.

"Tommy?" Technoblade's voice is muffled over the wind. He kind of wanted to ignore it, but he was taken by both shoulders now and forced to face Techno.

He flinched. Unable to collect himself, he felt the hybrid's gaze on his own. And Tommy must have been quite the pathetic sight, because Technoblade faltered. Blood red eyes darted up and down his face, expression twisted into something Tommy can't recognize. "Oh my gods, Tommy—Tommy, it's okay, I'm here. I'm—"

Maybe there's a hole somewhere nearby he can go crawl into to die in? Because he sure as won't be allowed back inside after this pathetic display.

Technoblade's grip on his shoulders tightened, and Tommy wondered for a moment if he was just going to end him right there. How rude was it to run from the table in the middle of a meal? Dream certainly wouldn't have allowed it. He would have taken the rest of Tommy’s rations for a week, at least, for being so ungrateful. Technoblade was much more ruthless than that, so he wouldn't be surprised if he unsheathed his sword right now and—

"What happened to you?" Technoblade asked firmly. He almost didn't hear it.

Tommy didn't want to say it. He didn't want to even think about it; that was why he hid the injury in the first place. It wasn't like it mattered to Techno anyway. Tommy could trip over his own feet and die for all the hybrid cared, that he was sure of.

A trembling hand came up to his face, and Tommy hooked a finger into his mouth. Parting his lips to show the empty space where two tusks once were. Blood dribbled down his chin as he did.

It was stupid, he knew that. They'd only managed to grow in recently, but they were his. They had been the only thing about Tommy that this server hadn't managed to take from him. The only thing that showed his heritage. Gone. Wrapped around the neck of the man who took them.

It was foolish for him to have ever thought anything could have ever truly belonged to him.

Tommy avoided Technoblade's gaze for the longest time. He didn't want to hear the scolding remarks that he'd been sure were about to come. Didn't want to see the disappointment on Techno's face. That, somehow, he'd let him down by being so careless.

But being childish hadn't gotten Tommy anywhere good in the past. So, slowly, he dragged his eyes up to meet Technoblade's gaze.

And he looked pissed.

A sharp intake of breath. "Listen, Techno, I'm sorry I— I should've been more careful." He stammered out. Words fell from his mouth before he could stop himself. "I know I should've just listened to him and— I'll leave, okay? I'll leave, and we can pretend none of this ever happened!"

Fear gripped Tommy almost as hard as the man in front of him did. Shut up. Shut up. His rambling didn't seem to placate Technoblade in the slightest, the opposite actually. It seemed to only get him angrier with each word.

"Who?" Techno said through gritted teeth. It sounded more like a demand than a question.

"Wh— what?" Tommy stiffened. He was going to die, wasn't he?

"Who took them? Who did this to you?" Each word seemed forced, as if Technoblade were actively holding himself back.

"Name. Now."

Why was he being asked this? Tommy didn't know, but he was smart enough not to deny the man his answers.

"It…happened in exile."

"Your ward?" Technoblade clarified.

Tommy nodded. "Y-Yeah, but it was my fault! He wanted me to put a gift someone had gotten me in the hole so he could blow it up and I— I—"

Teeth sank into flesh.

Something wet and metallic-tasting on his tongue.

A scream, loud and pained, but for once it wasn't his own.

Red.

Red.

Red.

"I bit him." Tommy admitted. His head lowered shamefully. "I bit him, and I paid the price for it."

Tommy didn't think it was possible for Technoblade's hold to get any tighter, but it did. This time, he didn't dare meet the man's face, but he could imagine the anger painted over it. He didn't think he'd ever get that image out of his head.

"Tommy." Techno started, his voice considerably softer than it had been previously. "Go upstairs."

His head shot up at the command. "What?"

Why? Technoblade was supposed to be throwing him out right about now. He just admitted to biting someone. He was immature, no, he was dangerous. No better than a rabid animal, that's what Dream had called him. So why in the world did Techno want him to go back into the cabin?

"Go," He repeated, firmer this time. Hands were reluctant as they released their white-knuckled grip on Tommy's shoulders. "I'll be up in a minute."

Tommy would be a fool not to listen. So, he hurried back up the front steps, taking a sharp left at the entrance to head up the stairs.

The room he found himself in once he made it to the top was…not what Tommy had expected. Of course, a handful of double chests lined the wall directly across from him. To his left, two windows looked out into the snowy landscape below, the sight appeared almost serene when he wasn't in the middle of it. To his right, a large bed had been shoved against the wall, with a plush comforter and far too many pillows than one person would ever need piled onto the mattress. But, most importantly, it was hot, somehow even more so than downstairs. The air felt heavy with heat. Which made sense when he thought about it for a moment longer. Heat rose, didn't it? That felt like something he could remember Tubbo rattling off during the busier days in Early L'manberg— back when it was only a shitty RV stuck out in the middle of nowhere claiming to be a country.

Tommy was hesitant to perch himself on the edge of the bed, but it wasn't like there had been any other spots to sit and wait for- whatever reason it was Technoblade had sent him up here. The comforter felt much softer than it looked, and he had to resist curling up into it so he wouldn't fall asleep right there. Shoulders tensed as he waited for Technoblade to arrive. Still reeling from their conversation out on the steps. Technoblade had seemed so angry. So why then did he invite Tommy to come back? He could have just shoved him down into the snow and locked the door behind him, and he wouldn't have batted an eye. Honestly, he kind of still expected it.

At least then he could just find himself a nice spot and let the cold do the rest of the work. One far, far away from Logstedshire, and L'manberg, and all the people Tommy thought cared for him. No, they wouldn't get the satisfaction of watching him die, then go on to pretend that they really did care all this time. He wanted that one thing to be his and his alone.

The sound of heavy footsteps starting up the stairs was what alerted Tommy to Technoblade's incoming arrival. Yet, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that he faced when the hybrid entered.

Technoblade's arms were full; carefully trying to balance all of the blankets that had been piled on the back of the couch on one arm, while he carried an armful of potions close to his chest, and held a plate of fresh food in his free hand.

Tommy watched in quiet awe and confusion as the man dropped the blankets onto the foot of the bed, and the potions onto the nightstand, before he shoved the plate in Tommy's direction, forcing him to take it.

The familiar smell is what reached him first. Tommy didn't think, not when hunger still clawed at his stomach so harshly that it hurt. He picked up the fork that had been balancing on the edge of the plate—how Techno managed to carry all of that without dropping anything was beyond him—and shoveled the baked potato in by the mouthful. Careful not to agitate his teeth again.

"'Wah 'tis ah for?" Tommy asked through stuffed cheeks. He could only guessed what he looked like right then, but the look on Technoblade's face hinted to him that it wasn't the most dignified sight.

His eyes darted back toward the potions nightstand as Techno picked one up and uncorked it.

"Hibernation." He answered, plainly. Though the anger that had been held in the elder man's expression didn't dissappear entirely. It was more like it had taken a temporary back seat, though Tommy wasn't confident as to what took its place. "This isn't much, but it should be enough until I get back."

Tommy almost spat out his food. "You're leaving?"

Techno nodded, taking the plate from Tommy’s hands once he finished. "I have…urgent business that needs tended to. It will only take me a few weeks."

Suddenly, a hand reached out, carding through Tommy's curls. He flinched, blinking at the action before he tilted his head to settle Technoblade with a wide-eyed look. Part of him wanted to bat the hand away and demand that whatever game Techno was playing be done with. He didn't think his heart could take it, but the longing subsided as he melted into the touch. Breathing out a shaky sigh, how long had it been since he'd been treated so kindly? The tears that start to prick the corners of his eyes tell him that it might've been longer than he initially thought.

"Don't worry," Techno reassured. "You should wake up around the time I get back. Then, I'll tend to the fire and make enough food to last us until spring."

"Whatever you say, boss man." The sureness in Technoblade's voice placated any of his worries. That had always been something Tommy both admired and hated about the man. He spoke with such conviction, Tommy couldn't help but take each thing he said as an objective fact.

Techno urged a potion into Tommy’s hands. The teen blinked down at it for a moment before he went on.

"This should help keep the pain down." He explained.

A healing potion then. Tommy brought the glass to his lips, surprised by how sweet it was. Sugary like the honey Tubbo would bring him from his bee farms yet even that descriptor didn't seem to do it justice. If it hadn't been a potion of healing, he might've feared it would rot the rest of his teeth out with cavities. The rest of the liquid went down quickly, taking all of the ache that'd settled within him along with it.

Techno continued. "When that wears off, or if the pain wakes you while I'm gone, feel free to have another." He said, motioning towards the nightstand filled with about a dozen bottles of the same bright pink liquid.

Tommy nodded, a thousand questions still ran through his head. What had he done to deserve such treatment? Especially from Technoblade of all people? Weren't they supposed to hate each other? The man had reminded Tommy himself, it wasn't like they'd been on the best of terms when they last talked.

"Why?" His voice sounded more unsteady than he meant it to. "Why are you doing all of this?"

A sigh sounded out from above him. Techno took the empty bottle, and sat both it and the plate to the side.

"Lay down." He commanded, and Tommy listened. Hoisting himself up onto the bed as Technoblade started to pile the blankets back over him. "You didn't have anyone to teach you this stuff, and I'm not gonna blame you for that. So I'll try to put it in terms you can understand. Got it?"

Tommy nodded.

"Usually," Techno began. "We piglins travel in groups. Big ones. A big group like that, you would think that we wouldn't care if part of the pack got injured or was picked off, but Piglins are protective. Especially of the runts. You don't just go after one of us, you go after all of us." There's something almost fond in Technoblade's voice as he recited something it seemed like he learned long, long ago. "If part of the pack is hurt. Any other piglins around will just…know. Evolution or somethin' don't ask me to explain it. But I've had this awful feeling in my chest for—"

Technoblade faltered. Gripped his head for a moment before he chuckled. "A few months now, actually... And it only just got worse tonight…gods how could I be so blind?"

A few months…

That's how long Tommy had been in exile.

"So, you knew I was hurt because we're both piglins?" Tommy asked.

Now that Tommy really thought about it, he realized he knew that feeling Technoblade had been describing. That panic that would occasionally seize his chest, and had him pacing all through Pogtopia (Primes, he'd felt it as recently as Logstedshire.) with the need to move, to find. He'd never bothered to bring it up to anyone but Tubbo, who could only reason it was from stress. But Tommy knew stress like the back of his hand, and that hadn't been it. The fact that those outbursts always seemed to coincide with days when Techno would come back to Pogtopia, complaining about how he'd cut himself while sharpening his sword, or had a close call with a mob while mining, or whatever other manner of injuries he'd gotten that day had never even crossed Tommy's mind as nothing more than simple coincidence.

Technoblade shook his head. "—I mean, yes, I knew, but I didn't know, y'know?"

"I….think so?" He replied, unsure. This was too much to take in all at once.

"I only just learned you were a piglin hybrid. I brushed off the feeling for this long because I thought I was the only one I—gods, Tommy, I'm so sorry." Technoblade tucked another blanket over Tommy before he cupped his cheek. Tracing circles under the deep bags under Tommy’s eyes with his thumb. "If I'd listened to my instincts, I could have kept you from all of that."

Technoblade is…sorry? Weird-ass, instinctual heart burns aside. What did Techno of all people have to be sorry about? This had been the kindest anyone had ever treated Tommy in…he didn't know how long. Right now he felt warm, fed, and, damn it, cared for. Not in the way a warden watches a prisoner, or a leader commands his troops. This was softer, he could melt into it without any stress on his shoulders.

"So…" Tommy spoke through a yawn. "Does this make us, like, pig bros or something?"

A chuckle came from overhead. "'M afraid so. Hard to break piglins from their pack." Techno said it like it was some sort of death sentence. "You okay with that?" He asked, voice hushed.

"Can I sleep here?" Even in his half-awake daze, Tommy knew he should pull back before he got to be too much, too clingy. "Just…just until I get back on my feet?"

"You can stay here as long as you want." Technoblade nodded.

"Then I don't mind bein' part of your wolf pack."

Sleep had begun to overtake Tommy. Creating a honey-coated fog in his brain as he sunk into the pillows. Hardly noticing the bed creak as it took on the weight of another person. Not until he felt calloused fingers run through his hair once more.

“Sleep, Theseus,” Technoblade murmured.

Tommy couldn’t help but obey, his eyes fluttered shut as the elder hybrid began to rub deep, comforting circles into his knotted hair.

This wasn't anything like Dream’s attempts at getting him to sleep back on exile. The man would sit outside his tent, silhouette barely visible against the moonlight, and tell him how grateful he should be. After everything Tommy had done, he had it so good in Logstedshire, he got to be away from it all, the chaos, the infighting.

He didn’t deserve any of it.

Tears pricked the corners of Tommy’s eyes. Maybe–

Maybe Dream had been right. He thought, bathed in warmth as he leaned further against Technoblade’s hand, but just this once, he’d take more than what he deserved.

“‘Echno?” Tommy slurred.

“Theseus?” He responded, barely above a whisper.

“G’night.” Tommy hummed as he pulled the blankets over his shoulders.

Sleep washed over him so much faster than it ever did back in exile.

“Sleep well, Tommy,” Technoblade said, before he pressed a kiss onto the top of the boy's golden curls.

The next few weeks after that fateful night dragged on much longer than Technoblade would've liked them to. That was something he'd noticed now that he had a runt back home that needed taken care of. Even if he had Phil make an emergency trip to the cabin to make sure Tommy was okay while he slept, that his supply of potions was kept in stock in case the pain from his injury caused him to use them all up, and so that someone would be there if he woke up from his first fit of hibernation earlier than Techno had planned.

It wasn't like he enjoyed that he'd postponed his own hibernation as well. Exhaustion weighed down his limbs more than he was comfortable with, but there was a score he needed to settle, and he refused to rest until it was done.

The wind whistled in Technoblade's ears. Whipping every which way and slicing into his skin no matter the direction, but he pressed on. It wasn't like he had much of a choice.

Not when the light of his cabin drew ever closer.

After he'd put Carl into the stable—with more than enough treats as a reward for good behavior despite the impromptu trip—he trekked into the cabin. He shook the snow of his boots at the door, where he saw the fire still going steady. The silhouette of wings that poked out from the back of the couch told Techno all he needed. He'd remind himself in the morning to get something to repay Philza as well, for helping him out on such short notice. As well as grab more firewood, it looked like they only had enough to last about a month or two more.

But he could think about all that later. Right now, he was exhausted. Sleep tugged him up the stairs as he tried his best to walk lightly, despite the weight of his armor. He took off his helmet when he walked through the door. Greeted by the sight of a small lump underneath the covers, rising and falling with each breath. Golden curls just barely visible from under the pile of blankets Techno had stacked on top of him before he left. Maybe it was a bit overkill. He wasn't quite yet accustomed to this whole 'finally having a pack after years of being isolated from his own species, let alone it being a runt' thing. But as he pulled the covers down, he not only saw Tommy safe but also smiling as he slept. Technoblade felt his heart melt a little, letting out an involuntary snort at the sight.

He smiled, quickly pulling his hand away. Yes, he was tired. Especially now that he was sure the runt was okay, he wanted to sleep more than anything, but he didn't think Tommy would appreciate waking up next to a blood-soaked Technoblade.

Which reminded him—

Fumbling for something in his pocket, Techno retrieved two small cylindrical objects, wide at the bottom but sharp and pointed at the ends. He wiped the stray droplets of blood that managed to get on them during his 'meeting' with the man who he'd found with them them around his neck, onto his cape. Not like it could stain the fabric anyway. Carefully, he placed the tusks onto the nightstand beside where Tommy slept and breathed out a sigh of relief.

Now everything was right where it belonged.