Chapter Text
Technoblade thinks that the past week has been very successful.
It’s been an exhausting few days, but his hard work is paying off, and finally, finally, the quiet upset weight on his chest is slowly starting to lighten up at the sight of everyone wearing their gold.
He can’t believe it’s taken this long for him to get around to fixing this. How could he have let them go so long being such a disaster? He knew how important gold was, how valuable it was, how precious it could be. Yet, like a fool, no, an idiot, he somehow thought that only a few measly gifts were enough for his family.
Never again. Techno has lived and learned and now he’s come away as a better man. Look at him go. Tommy’s been swapping out crowns for the past three days, and Technoblade could not be more satisfied.
The sight of Phil’s calloused hands with golden rings, Wilbur’s ears adorned with shiny jewelry, it’s just so much more valuable than Technoblade could’ve ever imagined. Technoblade’s felt the victory of killing a hundred men, and he’s felt the joy of absolutely crushing some kid’s record in farming potatoes, but this is something else entirely. This is something much more softer, quieter, but still just as pleasant and warm.
These people are the ones he cares for the most, the people he would willingly lay his life down for. Seeing them finally have enough, have what they deserve , it soothes down that upset part of Techno, and he’s finally breathing easy.
Although, that doesn’t mean he’s finished.
He’s been busy, alright? So, maybe he’s started to become a bit overly persistent in finding gold to give, and maybe he’s been using his reputation and a sword to rob a few things, and maybe his face is on a few wanted posters, but he is getting his gold. And also terrorizing a few people while doing it, but frankly, that’s not his problem.
Right now, the only thing he is focused on is the absolute treasure he’s finally brought home. Three wooden boxes, all held in a bag over his shoulder. The boxes themselves are kinda nice, to be fair, but inside them is something Technoblade has paid a pretty penny for. (Prying out the jewels from his old crowns and jewelry can get him a fair bit of profit, he’s found.)
Three custom made crowns, golden, shiny, brand-new and beautiful in every way. Technoblade might’ve cried a little on the inside when seeing them. The inner part of him really wants to have all three of the crowns for himself, but the other part of him, the part that insists on his family getting the gold they should rightfully own, is much louder.
Now the only problem is how to get them into everyone’s rooms.
Technically, he could just walk up to them and offer the gift like a normal person and let them accept it, but Techno thinks it’s much easier to just throw stuff into their rooms when they aren’t looking and pretend he was absolutely not the cause. The gift is getting to them either way. It works. Besides, he’s awkward with this type of stuff, and he is too deep in now to back out and try going the basic route.
(They get the message anyway. Wilbur always wears whatever he gets the instant he finds it. Technoblade always feels like he’s won something whenever that happens.)
Maybe he can hide these while they’re asleep. These are special, he doesn’t just want to shove them into whatever hiding spot he can find while he’s sneaking around the house, he wants them to really see it, to appreciate it. Wear it, obviously.
Technoblade wonders over everyone’s varying sleep schedules as he makes his way to his room, and the moment he sets the bag down on the ground beside his bed, he realizes too late that he’s been followed right at his heels.
“Whatcha got there?” Wilbur grins like a little shit, leaning against the doorway as Technoblade freezes still with his hand still hovering over the bag he just placed down.
“...potatoes.” Techno blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, and then proceeds to gently kick the bag behind him, standing up straight. He can see Tommy’s head peeking out from over Wilbur’s shoulder, as if Techno doesn’t obviously see him hiding behind Wil.
“Uh-huh.” Wil’s face drops, and it turns into something scrutinising. “That doesn’t look like potatoes.”
“Uhhh.” Technoblade falters, failing to think of anything more to cover his tracks. He’s doing a horrid job at this. But to be fair, they’ve never actually questioned the things he’s brought home. That and also Wilbur keeps giving him a suspicious squint and it’s not helping with the attempt at keeping a cover.
“I have a feeling it’s not potatoes.” Wilbur nods, pushing himself off from the doorway as Techno decides to just push him out into the hallway and close the door. Wilbur continues to talk even as Technoblade slowly pushes at him to get out of the doorway. “In fact, I’m positive it’s not potatoes, I think it’s actually not even food. Trinkets, perhaps? Stolen goods, perhaps?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure- move-” Technoblade pushes at Wil, and Wil pushes back, Technoblade stumbling.
“Go, go!” Wilbur laughs, and suddenly Tommy’s zipping right past them both, slipping between Wil and the doorway and going towards the bag Techno’s set down.
“Hey-!” Technoblade turns to stop him, grab him and drag him back, maybe, but then Wilbur decides to become a problem and slams right into him, the both of them crashing into the ground unceremoniously.
“I’ve got him! I’ve got him, go, go, Tommy-!”
“Wilbur, get off-!” Technoblade hits at Wilbur and tries to shove him away, only for Wilbur to cackle like an idiot and latch on like some over-clingy octopus. Technoblade kicks him in the leg, and he gets hit in the gut as a response. They both fall into an impromptu fight on the ground, Wil screaming and laughing as Technoblade jabs him in the sides. “Get out of my room!”
“No!” Wilbur yells, grabbing Technoblade as he tries to get up and dragging them both back to the ground. They hit the floor with a thump.
Tommy ignores the commotion, instead just sitting comfortably on Techno’s bed, legs crossed as he searches through the bag Techno’s brought back this time. He pulls out one of the boxes, making an intrigued face.
“Don’t open that!” Techno points a finger at Tommy, then faceplants into the ground as Wilbur pushes at the back of his head.
“Open it, do it!”
“What the fuck is this?” Tommy questions, looking into the bag again. “Hey, there’s more!”
“Do not-” Technoblade pleads, because now is the worst possible time for him to even begin explaining how much work he went through to have those crowns made. That, and he’s also pretty sure Wilbur will get insufferably affectionate. It is too early for emotions. “Wilbur, I am going to kill you, get off, let go-”
“What’s that, Tommy?” Phil asks from the doorway, and both Wilbur and Technoblade pause for just a second. Wilbur recovers fast and takes the chance to escape, rolling away across the ground as Techno makes a frantic grab at his shirt to try and drag him back for revenge.
Technoblade pushes himself up off the ground. “I can explain.” He says, and a beat passes. Phil tilts his head. “Actually, no, I don’t really want to-”
“Boxes.” Tommy responds to Phil’s question a bit late, and Phil snickers with a hand over his mouth. Tommy just holds up a box with a bright grin.
“Nope-” Technoblade makes a mad dash to grab it out of Tommy’s hands, and Tommy screams and dodges away with the box, Technoblade dragging him back by the shirt. “Give that to me, give it.”
“It’s mine, fuck off!” Tommy slips just barely out of Techno’s grip, running off towards Phil, who takes the box from his hands. Technoblade stumbles in place, holding his hands out in an almost surrendering manner.
“Hi, mate.” Phil greets, as if he didn’t just walk in on Technoblade fighting for his life on the floor as Tommy dug through his things.
“Give me the box.”
“Oh?” Phil holds it up. “This one?”
“Phil.”
“Why? What’s in it?” He shakes it a bit.
“Phil, please.”
Wilbur finally lifts himself off the ground, standing at Phil’s side with a curious look. “Can we open it?” He asks, whispering far too loudly for it to really be a whisper. He pokes at the box in Phil’s hands.
Phil seems thoughtful for a moment, observing Technoblade. Technoblade stares back with a burning face. “I don’t know...Techno looks like he’s going to explode.”
“So?”
“We’re staging an intervention!” Tommy yells out suddenly, Wilbur poking at the box again, Phil smacking his hand away. “For your addiction.”
Technoblade blinks. “My what.” He chokes out, Tommy shaking his head sadly.
“You’ve got a problem, Blade.”
“I don’t.” Techno responds, relaxing a bit in relief when he sees Phil rest a hand over the lid of the box, not seeming to be opening it anytime soon. “What problem?” He asks.
“Oh, you know.” Wilbur shrugs, waving a hand. “Just that little thing you do where you bring home ungodly amounts of gold and hide it in our rooms when you think we aren’t looking.”
The room falls into silence for a moment, just to let Wilbur’s words sink in, and Technoblade clears his throat.
“I don’t….do that.”
“Really?” Wilbur deadpans.
“I have several things in my room that beg to differ.” Tommy mutters, Technoblade noting that the three of them have blocked off the door of his room, the only way out. He eyes the window. How desperate is he to escape this conversation?
“I think it’s nice.” Phil says, Techno looking away from the window and pausing on his ideas of grand escape. “I just don’t exactly get why.”
“It’s-” Techno pauses, mouth clicking shut. He tries again. “It’s kinda simple, I’m a piglin. I just like gold. You guys know this.”
“Yes, I am accustomed to the way you have a collection of crowns under your bed, but that doesn’t explain as to why you’re giving all of it to us.” Wilbur presses, tilting his head to the side.
“Also! Where the fuck are you getting it from?” Tommy asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m honestly impressed at the sheer amount of it. You did not have all of that just sitting in your room.”
“Uh-” Technoblade fumbles, eyes glancing down at the box in Phil’s hands. “Well, that’s not really important.”
“I would like to know.” Phil insists. “We’re grateful- we are, thank you. It’s sweet, mate. But, well-”
“I am running out of room.” Wilbur hisses. “And it is wonderful, and I like the knives, but holy shit, you have a problem!”
“I do not!” Techno protests, and Wil gives a burning glare. “I don’t. I just, I like gold, I’ve always collected it-”
“But you’re not collecting it! You’re giving it to us! In worrying amounts!”
“Well I kinda have to!”
“Why?” Tommy asks, and Technoblade stops, mouth half open.
“Because-” Techno starts, stopping again. “Uhm.”
Phil raises his eyebrows. He looks at the box.
“It’s-” Techno tries again. “Uh…”
Wilbur leans in close to Phil. “Can we open the box now?”
“Mate, I think he’ll pass out if we do that.”
“So?” Tommy asks.
Technoblade breathes in deep. Tries to quiet down the deep embarrassment that is sitting on his chest. “You guys have so little gold.”
They all look at him again, slightly confused. Wilbur just looks baffled. Almost insulted, actually.
“We have PILES.” Tommy points out.
“Before I gave you some.” Technoblade counters. “Before that. You just- look. Gold is important, okay? It’s valuable, it’s good, and I care about you guys, so I just had to… fix it.” Realization slowly dawns on their faces, and Technoblade hurriedly rushes through the rest of it. “And you guys had nothing! Literally nothing! You had what, a few gifts from birthdays and holidays? Wilbur didn’t even have a crown before I got him one!”
“Mate.” Phil says, in that kind, touched, feely Phil way.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Wilbur holds up his hands, Technoblade “Oh my god, that makes so much sense, though, you’ve always been too attached to gold stuff ever since we were little. Aw! Awww, you love us-!”
“Mhm.” Technoblade makes a vague noise, jutting his arms out towards Phil. “Can I have the box back?”
“What’s in it?” Phil asks, rather than hand it back. Technoblade nearly frowns, and Phil just grins. “I wanna know.”
“Can I have it?” Tommy says, reaching for the box.
“No.” Technoblade immediately says, Tommy pouting. “It’s not even yours, it’s Wilbur’s.”
Wilbur blinks in slight surprise. “Mine?” He suddenly gives a slight smug smile, and takes the box from Phil’s hands, fiddling with the latch and opening the lid without a scrap of hesitation.
Technoblade buries his face into his hands.
Wil pauses, staring at the crown sitting innocently inside, much more intricate and expensive than anything else he owns. “Techno.” He says, reaching in and taking it out as if it’s something fragile, eyes wide at the jewels sitting in the palm of his hand. “Holy shit, this is beautiful.”
Techno huffs, peeking out through his fingers. “They’re custom made.” He mumbles out, and Wilbur looks at him with a far too emotional expression.
After carefully placing the crown on his head, Wilbur closes the box, giving it to Phil and making a beeline straight to Technoblade, face determined.
“No, no, no-” Technoblade holds his hands out, but it’s far too late, and Wilbur wraps him in a hug, squeezing him tight. “Ahg. Okay. You're welcome?”
“I love it.”
“Cool.” Technoblade blurts out.
“Do I get one!?” Tommy asks, Wilbur pulling back with a slight glare. Tommy sticks his tongue out at him.
“Yeah.” Techno shrugs with one shoulder. “I got one for each of you.”
“Can I get it.” Tommy’s already halfway through reaching towards the other boxes. Technoblade nods, and Tommy practically lunges for them.
The crowns fit perfectly on their heads, and they look just as wonderful as Technoblade had hoped for. Golden, bright, valuable. Just as it should be, for his family.
Phil leaves the room for just a moment, and he comes back with another crown of his own, putting it onto Technoblade’s head before he even realizes what he’s doing.
Techno turns to him with a confused look, hand half raised to give it back.
“Keep that one.” Phil insists, Tommy reaching over and adjusting the crown on Techno’s head. He nods in satisfaction once it’s placed appropriately. “So we can match.”
After a moment of thought, Techno allows it, and he gives a small smile, nodding.
“Please say you are going to chill the fuck out with the gold now, though.” Wilbur says, Technoblade frowning.
“But-”
Phil pats him on the shoulder. “No, he’s got a point.”
Techno huffs. “Fine.”
This should be enough gold for all of them for now, at least.