Chapter Text
Techno woke up to quick footsteps and the murmur of muffled conversations in the corridor. He looked up, squinting, but the window was still completely dark outside, and no one knocked to remind him he should get up if he didn't want to be late for school. Soon afterwards, he remembered that Christmas holidays had just begun, so whoever was wandering around the house in the middle of the night was doing it for no reason, illegally and out of sheer spite. One that needed immediate reproof before he fell asleep again and forgot.
He reluctantly pushed his legs out from under the covers, flinching as his bare feet touched the cold floor. Yawning broadly, almost bumping into his own chair, he stumbled to the door to peek out into the hallway, mumbling that someone better be dying.
Wilbur was standing by the ajar bathroom door, leaning against the doorframe, tapping his foot impatiently, repeatedly rubbing his hand over his cheek, which still had a pillow imprinted on it. In the light shining through the narrow slit, he was clearly asleep and dreaming of going back to bed, but when he turned his head to see his brother, he suddenly perked up, almost jumping in place with fear. He put his hand to his chest theatrically, making a face as if he had stopped his soul from leaving his body in the last moment, and was already opening his mouth to speak when the door squeaked softly behind him and Tommy stood there, with disheveled hair, damp cheeks, and a wad of clothes in his arms.
"Wilby, what am I supposed to do with-" he began, sniffing every other word, but stopped immediately as soon as he noticed Techno. His eyes, red and puffy from crying, widened, his cheeks flushed, and he almost leapt at Wilbur, clinging to his back like a human shield.
If Techno had been a bit more alert, he would probably have felt a bit offended by this reaction. Okay, he might have shouted at the child once or twice, but that still didn't make him a monster lurking in the darkness to be so scared of.
(Or at least that was what he kept telling himself to silence his remorse.)
But it was the middle of the night and he was up late reading, curled up under a blanket with a flashlight, so before he could understand the situation well, Wilbur reached back his hand, brushing the hair of the child behind him.
"Relax. Techno won't make fun of you," he assured, then glanced at his brother almost defiantly. "Right?"
Techno was about to ask what was so funny about their secret wanderings in the corridor. But then Tommy slipped out of his hiding place a bit, unsure and ashamed, in the blue pajamas he was definitely not wearing that evening...
Something in Techno's head clicked into place, and he winced slightly at his own memory.
"Ah," he muttered, then shrugged. "I don't see anything funny about it."
Tommy didn't seem convinced at all and just shuffled his legs as he stared at the floor.
Wilbur, on the other hand, relaxed his shoulders and smiled slightly, reassured, clearly devoted to his role as protector of the little and the oppressed.
"You see? Nothing funny, I told you," he instructed in a very serious tone. He picked up the rolled clothes and tried to pull them away, but the effect was that Tommy clung to his arm in panic. "Hey. I still have to change your sheets, go to your room for now."
The boy shook his head so violently it almost made him lose balance.
"But I don't want to be alone now," he whimpered dramatically, lifting his head and resting his trembling chin on his brother's elbow. "Wilby..."
He looked so desperate as if every second of loneliness could turn out to be a death sentence, and while Techno was really trying to remain indifferent to it, deep down he was beginning to accept his weakness for those big eyes.
"I'll take him," he said, surprising himself a little. Both brothers looked at him in no less astonishment, Wilbur raising his eyebrows, Tommy hastily wiping his nose with his sleeve. "Come back when you're done."
Wilbur hesitated, probably unhappy to be dealt a much worse job, but eventually nodded his head as he shifted and pushed Tommy's shoulder a little forward.
"Okay. But my bed," he said. "Yours is too fucking uncomfortable."
Techno just made a face at him, immediately focusing all his attention on the child's still running nose.
"Come on. "He held out his hand to him. "Come on." He waved his hand urgently. "I won't carry you, I'm not Phil. I like to have a straight backbone."
Tommy made a guttural noise, something between a sob and a laugh, and finally took his hand, letting him lead him into the room. His hand was slick with sweat, but he squeezed his fingers so tightly as if his life depended on it. He moved almost silently, not at all with his usual grace of an elephant herd, and when Techno pulled back the sheets he immediately crawled underneath it and curled into a ball, pressing his back against the wall. He seemed so much younger, so small and vulnerable that it was hard not to wonder how many times he had to wake up at night thinking there was no one he could go to for consolation. How many times has he been left to fend for himself, scared and with no idea how to handle everything, with the thought that no one really cares what he feels or what will happen to him.
Techno couldn't say he understood everything. As a child, he dreamed more often about everyone leaving him alone than about being the center of attention. But he knew all too well how painful it was to know that there was no one really close to him in the world, no one to look after him, no one who loved him and simply cared for him.
And maybe under a thick layer of all his fears and complexes, he knew how to be a good man - because looking at Tommy now, he could only be glad that at least one of them would forget about it all in time.
"Hey." He lay down beside him, arranging the covers so that a pair of wide eyes could be seen just above them. "Just in case you don't know... You really have nothing to be ashamed of." He shrugged, rolling over on his back. "Just saying. It happens."
Tommy just tucked his face deeper into the sheets.
"It wouldn't have happened to you," he muttered, sliding his hands under the pillow and pressing the ends to his ears.
Techno hesitated, but ultimately his love of his own pride lost to childlike despair, and sighing, he rolled on his side, leaning towards the boy.
"Do you want to bet?"
Tommy didn't react for a moment, but finally lifted his head a little, glanced at him as if to make sure he wasn't the victim of a joke, then bit his lip and moved a little closer.
"And Phil wasn't angry?" He asked softly, casting a quick glance towards the door.
"Of course not." Techno frowned, surprised much more with the question itself than that it had only happened now. That it wasn't until now, after all this time together, despite all the evidence, that Tommy had begun to have any doubts. "Why would he be?"
The child began to fingertip the corner of the pillow, pressing his lips together for a moment, before finally taking a deep breath, curling his shoulders.
"I don't know. Mom would be angry," he complained softly and then sniffed to add to the drama. "And she would yell."
It was hard to find a good answer to that. Mostly because it was probably true, and they both knew it well. No lie, even the sweetest one, uttered with the purest intentions, could change that, and the only real consolation had a bitter, unpleasant aftertaste.
"She's not here now."
Tommy's chin trembled slightly, but then he shook his head and, taking a deep breath, smiled slightly.
"I know. But sometimes…” He clutching the pillow tighter. "I still miss her sometimes. Even if she wasn't nice and wouldn't be glad to see me."
Techno wasn't good at comforting. In fact, he was hopeless at it, and he knew it himself. If someone tried to cheer him up by stroking his back awkwardly and hummed in understanding, he would most likely order them to fuck off before they engulfed him enough to give them a kick goodbye. But Tommy was clearly much lower in his standards, accepting the gesture as gratefully as if no one had ever done anything nice for him before, then suddenly moved closer and nestled tightly against him, hiding his face in his shirt.
Techno swallowed, hugging him back.
"There’s nothing wrong with that, you know? Missing her."
The child squeezed his hands a little tighter.
"Is it possible to stop somehow?"
He rested his chin against the child's hair, closing his eyes for a moment. He wondered if this was what Phil felt, holding them in his arms whenever they remembered something terrible. If he felt so damn helpless and angry with himself that he didn't know any magic solution.
"I don't know," he sighed. "I guess... I guess you just have to wait."
He looked down at his hand frozen on the boy's back, and slowly, a little awkwardly, ran his fingers up and down. And then a second time and again, tracing the letters he had learned to recognize years ago. "U" almost identical to "O", "E", which could be mistaken for "L"...
"You know Phil would never hurt you, right?"
Tommy must have fallen asleep by now, because he flinched, and when he raised his head he had to blink a few times before he could keep his eyes open.
"Yhm." He nodded, though he didn't seem very sure about it. And as if to confirm this, he hesitated immediately. "But... Because before that, Phil was just Phil. And now he's my dad." He frowned. "I never had a dad. I don't know how they are."
Techno really wanted to find it so silly as to be funny. He very much wanted to sincerely laugh at this childish fear, as absurd as it was unfounded. In a world where he could do it, where he could say he didn't understand, his head was surely a much, much calmer place.
But he had been in the same situation once, he himself was a child who had just learned that he could really trust someone, and any change, no matter how good, still felt like a threat. It was easy to care for someone who only appeared in our lives for a moment. It was easy to find strength and patience for a week, a month, a year. It was easy to love someone without having any expectations and demands on him. Phil might feel sorry for him and pity him, but Techno wasn't sure it wouldn't change when he officially became his son. When 'for a moment' begins to drag on. When Phil stopped being just a foster parent, and no one would admire him for his good heart and dedication anymore, but judge him for not being able to raise them 'better'.
Quietly, despite the slowly growing hope in him, he waited for the moment when it turned out that he was in fact not made for a real family.
But the only thing that changed over time was his name on the documents. Phil remained himself, patient and painfully understanding. And Techno remained his child, no matter how many stupid mistakes he made along the way.
Tommy was going to find out for himself, in a day, in a week, maybe in a month. But it certainly didn't hurt to assure him of it now.
"Phil's the best one." Techno smiled, trying to put all his confidence into these words. "Trust me, I had way too many 'fathers'."
The boy seemed to want to ask something else, but he didn't have time, because the door squeaked softly and Wilbur entered the room, leaving a narrow gap.
"Move over." He demanded immediately, nudging Techno in the back and immediately grabbing most of the duvet. "And move your legs, your feet are cold."
Techno, as befits an older brother, immediately turned so that he could put his feet straight against Wilbur's hot back.
"You were eavesdropping," he pointed out, softly enough for Tommy not to hear. Though he might as well have made it loud, because his brother, as always, had no shame.
"You have no evidence," he said, making himself more comfortable. He yawned widely, which, of course, immediately followed a series of yawns from everyone else. "If anyone wakes me up again, I'll kill them. Good night, Tommy."
The kid, squeezed between them like filling in a pancake, purred in response.
"Good night, Wilby." He yawned widely, already balancing on the verge of sleep. "Good night, Techie..."
Techno opened his eyes immediately, staring at him in mute shock, but the boy was already asleep for good. Wilbur, on the other hand, looked all too alert and mouthed 'Techie' with such a happy face as if he had just discovered a new game. Or rather, a torture. Techno glared at him, but it didn't do much, especially since he didn't know how to put his heart into it. After all, his whole life struggled with stupid names, the next one didn't make that much difference...
* * *
Techno didn't like being caring. He didn't like to focus on protecting others, not when all his instincts had always told him to run away and not look back. He didn't like to worry and take on someone else's problems when he could barely deal with his own.
Unfortunately, against his own will - he had clear tendencies to do so.
He could forgive himself for giving up to Wilbur so easily. His brother was just completely unfit to survive on his own, too trusting and stubborn for his own good. Besides, Techno really believed that he didn't have much to say about it, just as a cat brought from a cold street has no way to refuse a warm shelter. It was nice to finally feel wanted, it was nice to have someone close, it was nice to dare to call someone 'brother' and not regret it a second later.
He had never even considered trusting Phil at first, not really. An adult who gives a lot and promises even more sounded like a trap in which he was absolutely not going to get caught. Of the two bad things, he preferred homes where everyone openly despised him to families pretending to be friendly and helpful at first, only to lose all kindness and forbearance in a second when he did something wrong. Disappointment time and time again could be much more painful than admitting to himself that he obviously deserved nothing better.
But Phil was stubborn, with his kind words and affectionate gestures, with the promises he kept, with the support and understanding from which it was hard to run away. Especially when Techno needed them so badly and waited so long for them that he gave up, despite everything that experience had taught him.
Tommy... Tommy was different. He appeared out of nowhere, different from what everyone expected, and almost immediately filled a void that no one had even realized was there before. Techno didn't like change. Especially when it concerned his family. He didn't need anyone new, he didn't need another brother to get out of trouble and watch in the cafeteria to see if he was eating his breakfast, or make a place for in his bed when a bad dream turned out to be a bit too real to deal with alone. He didn't need another Phil who forgot sometimes that he was only human too, and needed reminders that he should get some sleep now and then. Two people is more than he ever expected to have. He was absolutely sure that he wouldn't have enough strength or feelings for the next one.
And yet somehow, with each passing day, he found his heart softening more and more at the sight of the radiant smile of the child, that it was easier for him to just hear his laugh and smile too, that he didn't mind being called 'Techie', even if the boy he blushed every time and immediately denied having called him that. Maybe he just liked feeling important. Maybe he liked being a big brother, needed and wiser, the kind people ran to with every problem. The kind he never got the opportunity to be.
And maybe, although he would never admit it out loud, he was really glad that the little raccoon had found his way into their basement.
Even though it was a little hard to remember when the same raccoon was jumping around on his bed and shouting out random words to get his attention and make it as difficult for him to talk on the phone as possible.
"Can't you shut him up somehow?" Dream finally lost his patience the third time he had to repeat the same sentence. "Tell him he's a pain in the ass."
Techno, just getting up to actually force the boy to the door, froze for a second and frowned.
"Hey, don't talk about my brother like that," he huffed, holding the phone with his arm to catch the bouncing boy around his waist and, amidst yells, screams and kicks, carried him out into the hallway. "Tommy, leave. I'm busy and you're annoying," he grunted, keeping the kid safely away so he could close the door before he hurriedly backed away and turned the key in the lock. "Okay, I’m back," he breathed, completely ignoring the way the doorknob bounced up and down rhythmically, pulled from the other side. All he could hear on the phone was silence. "Hey, Dream. Are you there?"
"Are you fucking kidding me now?" Dream sounded like he was having a hard time swallowing all his indignation, and he was almost choking on it. "You broke my arm because I called him your brother!"
Techno hesitated, genuinely embarrassed, but finally cleared his throat as if nothing happened:
"That was a long time ago."
Dream didn't seem to share his approach. Perhaps because it was only a few days earlier that he had been stripped of his plaster and he couldn’t scratch himself without the use of a hanger.
"Like shit it was!" He growled, but when Techno was beginning to consider whether or not he was quite seriously angry, he added, "You're lucky it made George see how cool I am."
Ah, okay. Everything's okay.
"He just took pity on you," he said indifferently, falling back on the bed. "Weakness inspire sympathy."
"My lawyer will hear about this."
Techno wouldn't be able to care about this threat even if it hadn't been spoken in a jocular tone full of artificial resentment. Even if the entire jury knocked on his door, he could only order them to come a little later, because at the moment no one in the house had any time or willingness to deal with anything other than the upcoming holidays.
Phil was having the best time of his life. He taught Tommy to glue colored chains out of paper, nearly fell off the ladder twice while hanging the porch lights, and played Christmas carols from morning to night, even when Wilbur threatened to pierce his ears with a fork at dinner, and Tommy was eager to follow suit. Techno felt a bit sorry for the latter, because he was chosen as the main victim and even if he denied, the magic of Christmas was to be forced into him.
"Have you been good this year?" Phil asked as all four were working on cutting gingerbread from the dough. Though, in truth, Techno and Wilbur mostly took care of picking up the molds, sprinkling flour and kicking each other under the table.
Phil had just taken the first batch of baked cookies out of the oven, and Tommy immediately lunged to take for himself those few gingerbread men which Wilbur had not cut off the head or any limbs. Only after putting them on the plate (and burning his fingers) and covering them with a cloth for safety, did he think for a moment and nodded solemnly.
"Very good," he said, licking his fingers and reaching for tubes of colored frosting. Wilbur immediately turned to point out once more that he needed blue for his army of dead soldiers. Techno used the moment to steal his star-shaped cookie cutter.
Meanwhile, Phil brushed the torment off his hands and crouched down in front of the child, smiling a little teasingly.
"For sure?" He raised his eyebrows, pretending he had serious problems believing it. Techno wasn't surprised at all. Personally, he was of the opinion that both of his brothers were little monsters and deserved mostly a good kick. But he didn't say it out loud, fortunately, because Tommy rocked on his heels and said with utter conviction:
"Yes. If I wasn't, you would have given me to someone. But you didn't, so I was good."
Phil's smile faded for a moment, but then it was replaced by a slightly sadder, more forced version.
"We'll talk about that later, okay? But yes, you were good." He moved a little closer, leaning towards the boy and lowering his voice as if revealing a secret to him. "Do you know who comes to good children at Christmas?"
Tommy frowned as he glanced at his brothers for help.
"We're gonna have guests?"
Phil laughed and tapped his finger on the boy's nose to get all his attention back to himself.
"Not exactly. He's a very special someone who flies a magic sleigh at night and has a bag of gifts with him." He smiled even wider, raising his eyebrows as the child continued to stare at him without any comprehension. "Let me tell you that he also likes red a lot."
Techno exchanged knowing looks with his brother, and the two almost simultaneously rolled their eyes. Years ago, Phil had tried the same trick with them, naively believing that after almost all their childhood wandering from one nightmare family to another, after another Christmas Eve spent feeling as unwanted redundant at the table, either of them kept in at least the element of faith in flying reindeer. Techno, personally, had never believed in them - no one had mentioned them to him. Wilbur said that for two or three years, he was sure that he had simply done too many bad things to deserve a gift thrown down the chimney, which was perhaps even sadder. Phil, at least, looked like his heart broke. No wonder then that when Tommy came within range, much younger and more inclined to believe in fairy tales, he immediately tried his luck a third time.
The child blinked in confusion, then wrinkled his nose.
"Santa Claus?" He asked carefully, as if expecting him to be the victim of a joke.
Phil must not have felt the uncertainty because he just nodded his head, beaming.
"Yhm. Exactly." He put his arms around Tommy and stood up. "We don't have a fireplace, but that's alright. He knows special spells, so he'll be able to shrink and squeeze through the keyhole."
The boy's eyebrows rose so high that they almost disappeared under his fringe.
"Can't he just open the door?" He asked, quite intelligently for his abilities, but all common sense was immediately dismissed with a wave of his hand.
"But where is the magic and the fun in it?"
Tommy tilted his head, deeply considering something, then placed both hands on Phil's cheeks and narrowed his eyes as if trying to see through him and peer into his soul.
"You think Santa will bring us gifts?" He asked and immediately got a very enthusiastic answer.
"Yes, of course. He does every year. Right, boys?"
Techno just held up a thumb, completely uninterested in lying to six-year-olds. Wilbur, on the other hand, propped his chin with his elbow, sighing dramatically.
"He could bring more..."
Phil gave him a scolding look.
"He couldn't," he said firmly. "He pampers you more than any other child in the world."
Wilbur made a face as if he wanted to argue with it, but he didn't have time, because Tommy suddenly grinned, as if someone had suddenly turned on a little light in his head, and, placing his hands on Phil's cheeks again, he turned his face towards himself.
"Can we make a place for him in the yard?" He asked, already waving his legs to show that he wanted to return to earth immediately to carry out his gremlins' plans. "Oh, oh! And hang the lights so he knows where to land the sleigh! And we should leave some hay, or the reindeer will eat our potatoes. It would be a pity, because now they are growing bigger and red."
Techno leaned over the table so that he could whisper in his brother's ear amid the children's chatter:
"Should we tell him?"
Wilbur looked at him as if he seriously doubted his sanity.
"Are you crazy?" He whispered back. "Break it up and dad turns you into feed for those reindeer. Anyway..." He glanced at Tommy, choosing which gingerbreads are the prettiest and must be on the plate for Santa Claus. "Come on, look at them. Let them be happy."
So Techno, despite the goddamn great temptation, kept his mouth shut. Even if that meant that for the next two days he had to listen to every possible version of the toy-maker fairy tale, watch his garden beds turn into a lighted runway, and watch "Rudolph the Red Nose" twenty-four hours a day. After the fourth re-watch, he was able to name the reindeer in the horse-drawn sleigh himself, in the correct order. On the sixth, he threatened to throw the TV out the window. At eight he accepted his fate and even concluded that it could be worse. Tommy could always get obsessed with Elza.
In all the confusion, amidst the gleam of ornaments and the smell of cookies, amid the laughter and disputes that there was absolutely no force in the universe that would force him to put on plastic horns, he completely missed when the next few days went by. In fact, as he sat on the couch on Christmas Eve, under a warm blanket and with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands, he was beginning to regret that it would all be over soon and the charm would be gone. Tommy was just finishing up his first signature guitar solo, filling the house with a little fake tune. Wilbur corrected his finger alignment time and again, keeping one hand between the floor and his precious equipment to stop him from falling, but he didn't even try to hide his proud smile.
"Catch a little higher," he instructed, nodding his head to the beat. "Yes, exactly. Great. Just don't drop it!"
Phil leaned his head back in the chair, closing his eyes. He looked a lot better since he started to sleep longer and cut back on the amount of coffee he drank, but in recent days he seemed especially relaxed and content with life.
"Okay, little shits, that's it." He straightened suddenly and tapped his hands on his thighs. "It's time to go to bed."
Tommy groaned loudly, throwing his back on the couch and pressing the guitar tightly to his chest.
"One moment more!" He asked, swinging his legs in the air. "Five minutes!"
"No." Phil leaned over him, unraveling his fingers on the guitar and carefully handing it to Wilbur. "Five minutes was half an hour ago."
"Well, two minutes!"
"Not even one."
"Half! Half a minute!"
"Tommy..." Phil crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Santa isn't coming until everyone is asleep, so I'd be marching to bed if I were you."
The child grimaced as he slowly, in a snail's pace, moved from the couch to the floor.
"I can't go," he said stubbornly. "I have no strength. And my legs don't work."
As if in evidence, he lifted his foot and dropped it immediately, spreading his arms helplessly and making a pained face.
"Tommy..." Phil shook his head, giving the child a moment to think if he really wanted to challenge him, and when there was no answer, he rolled up his shirt sleeves in two movements. "Okay, so be it."
He grabbed the boy around the waist and, ignoring his squeals, lifted him off the floor, turning him upside down in the air.
"Nooo..." Tommy squirmed, his legs kicking in all directions, gripping hard at the arm around him. "Daaad...!"
"Shut! I can't hear you at all. You don't have the right to speech after ten o'clock."
The child puffed up his cheeks, but made no more efforts to fight back as he was carried up the stairs, swaying lightly to the rhythm of the footsteps. He looked as if he had just decided to become the greatest villain in the world just to get revenge on all the parents of the world, but for now, unfortunately, he had to limit himself to whining and remembering every five minutes that he must use the toilet for the eighth time in a row. Techno really admired the patience with which Phil brought him to the room over and over again - personally he would have tied the kid to the bed a long time ago and turned the TV volume up so he wouldn't hear screams. But he had a silent suspicion that no one but himself would consider it an appropriate parenting method.
It was another hour before Tommy finally fell asleep, with the duvet tangled around his feet and half over the edge of the mattress, and another before Techno had promised to turn off the light, too, and went smoothly to reading under the blanket, flashlight in one hand and book in the other. The house was quiet, the light of the lamps surrounding the house shining through the window illuminating the room with a pale glow, and soon even he felt like sleeping. He buried himself in the sheets, with a pleasant vision of the morning with gifts under his eyelids, and was already one foot out of reality when something pulled him back abruptly. He opened his eyes, at first not fully comprehending where he was, but then the sound repeated, a rumble coming from below, and then footsteps, slow and snapping, as if someone were walking through the middle of a puddle.
Techno has once heard that people who have cats at home sleep much more peacefully, because they attribute every disturbing noise in advance to their pets. Living with Tommy had a very similar effect. Ultimately, what was more likely: that someone thought the house of a single father of three was worth robbing, or that the little one had just climbed out of bed and was rummaging in the living room looking for presents?
He got out of bed very reluctantly, thinking that it had happened to him far too often lately, and without reaching even for the blanket as softly as he could, he opened the door a crack and ran down the corridor. Partly to not wake anyone else up, partly to give the gremlin a well-deserved heart attack. But as soon as he reached halfway up the stairs and leaned over the railing to look down, he himself froze, taken aback by the sight.
Tommy was standing in the center of the living room, in the half-melted snow, in Phil's oversized boots, wet and muddy, and as if nothing had happened, eating the Santa cookies he decorated with such zeal. As soon as he swallowed the leg of the last gingerbread man, he scooped up the crumbs from the plate with his finger and washed it down with milk, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He looked down at the puddle forming, and nodded contentedly, turning to wobble staggeringly towards the Christmas tree. His hair waved slightly and it was only then that Techno realized that the window was ajar, icy air was pouring in, and someone's probably very small hands had busily picked up all the snow from the sill. Only this sobered him up to the point that, no longer bothering to be quiet, he ran down the stairs, jumping two steps at a time.
Tommy jumped at the sight of him, swayed, and at the last moment covered his mouth to keep from screaming as he landed with his back on the floor. Techno leapt over him in one leap, catching the window and closing it tightly as silently as possible. Phil was content with one family anecdote about running away, another could be too much of a burden on his heart.
"What the hell are you doing?" He hissed, turning to the boy and grabbing his arm, lifting him to stand up with one jerk. "Are you stupid?"
He shook him lightly, trying very hard to keep his nerves in check, but it was extremely difficult when Tommy looked at him almost resentfully and put his finger to his mouth, making the loudest "shhh" Techno had ever heard.
"Be quiet," he scolded, as if he hadn't been stomping around. "Some people want to sleep, you know?"
If Techno had been a little less shocked, he would probably have smacked him for that tone. Luckily for the kid, he was temporarily blown away by the level of insolence.
"Well, not you, from what I can see," he growled as he finally recovered. He was still squeezing the boy's arm, but his fingers relaxed a little. "What are you doing?"
Tommy rocked on his heels, which looked a bit funny because the toes of the boots, gigantic on his feet, didn't even lift off the floor. He looked around alertly before leaning forward, putting his hands to his mouth and whispering dramatically:
"I'm leaving traces."
Techno waited for a moment for some continuation, something sensible, but the child seemed to think the matter was solved, as if nothing had ever happened, returned to taking carefully measured, muddy steps.
"Well, I can see that for myself." Techno tugged him lightly, and when that didn't work, he tugged a little harder. "You'll make the carpet dirty." He lost all his patience and grabbed the boy in two, lifting him up. "Come here."
The boy squealed softly, swinging his legs so that one shoe flopped to the floor and the other flew a good meter and hit the Christmas tree. The tree shook dangerously and a handful of needles fell to the floor.
"Let me go!" Tommy started scratching his arm around him, but Techno just slapped his hands for it.
"If you tell me what you're up to." He pointed out, grabbing the kid by the ankles as he kicked his knee. They struggled for a long time, making far more noise than they should have, until finally Tommy, pressed face down to the couch, his brother's knee on his back, gave one last jerk and squealed sadly, like a kicked puppy.
"Because..." He took a deep, dangerously teary breath. "Well, because Phil believes in Santa Claus," he blurted out in one breath.
Techno froze, then slowly drew his leg back and pulled away, letting the boy jump up and scurry to the farthest corner possible on the couch.
"What?" He asked, convinced he must have misunderstood something, but Tommy just nodded vigorously.
"He does! He showed me pictures and told me about reindeer and elves and that they fly... Reindeers, not elves," he clarified. "And he was telling me all the time that Santa would come today and leave us presents and he was so happy and it was a pity to tell him that it was just a fairy tale and that Santa doesn't exist. And he would be sad if he saw in the morning that no one had eaten the cookies, and I don't like when he's sad. So I'm leaving traces!" He jumped off the mattress and ran across the room, picking up both shoes to pick up triumphantly as evidence in the case. "But that's not a lie at all. Because if you're lying and someone is happy about it, that doesn't count! Like when Wilbur asks if I like his toast."
Techno looked at him, at the shoes, at the wet marks and crumbs on the carpet - and concluded that he must have actually stayed in bed after all, and it was all a very bizarre dream.
"Nobody likes Wilbur's toast," he replied quite automatically, still processing what he had just heard. Then he blinked and shook his head to break out of his thoughts. He frowned. "You’re pretending to be Santa and dirtying the floor to make Phil think that Santa is real?" He asked to dispel all doubts. And the gods knew he had a lot of them.
Tommy stopped smiling and slowly lowered his hands. More water dripped from the shoes onto the carpet.
"But you knew Santa isn't real, right?" He asked quietly, almost in horror, and Techno suddenly realized that even if he wanted to, even if he tried very, very hard, he wouldn't know how to be angry with him. Probably never again in my life, but especially not at this particular moment.
Because there was something damn endearing about how much Tommy cared about everyone around him. Something wonderfully childish about his reasoning and ideas and finding a cure for all the evil of this world in the simplest of ways. Something innocent that he didn't even consider for a moment that Phil might be trying to lie to him.
"Tommy..." he began, but eventually changed his mind and just sighed heavily, shaking his head. Some feelings were better kept to oneself. "Go wake Wilbur," he ordered instead, holding out his hands. "Nobody's better at making a mess than him."
Tommy quickly handed over his shoes and very eagerly made his way up the stairs, but stopped, hand on the railing.
"But does he know that Santa isn't real?" he asked, still worried.
Techno held his breath for a moment and closed his eyes.
"Just go."
Regardless of how weird it was to make a mess on purpose and, in addition, sincerely with good intentions, Techno thought they had done quite well. Especially Wilbur, who at the end was a bit fanciful and only after a long persuasion and a strong smack on the back of the head did he become convinced that knocking over the Christmas tree was a gross exaggeration, regardless of his 'artistic vision'. Tommy seemed more than pleased when he had made sure five times that the shoe prints were 'good enough' and 'exactly as dad imagined it'. Techno was one hundred percent sure that their father would be happier to have a clean living room, but he kept the thought to himself and focused on herding the child back to bed, where he belongs at one in the morning.
He only succeeded after he had made a three-time promise that they wouldn't start the celebration without him, which turned out to be completely irrelevant, because the boy was up again at seven in the morning and was running from door to door, knocking on each for as long as eventually he pulled everyone out of their beds.
Wilbur had pulled Phil aside in time and whispered to him why he shouldn't have had a heart attack after he went downstairs, so the mess in the living room was received with due enthusiasm (and only a little bit of the fatigue of someone having to clean it all up).
"Oooh...! Tommy, look!" Phil carefully picked up the cookie plate like the most holy relic, smiling so brightly that if Techno hadn't known him a little better, he would have believed him himself. "And there are traces! Honestly, he could have wiped his shoes, but what to expect from someone who lives with reindeer... See?" He crouched down in front of the child and waited patiently for it to stop bouncing in place before tapping his nose with his finger. "I told you Santa was coming. It looks like you guys were all good after all."
Techno chose to remain silent on the subject, as befits someone who had nothing to boast about, but Wilbur apparently took it as his moment to shine.
"Well, I'm always good."
Phil gave him a pointed look from under raised eyebrows before leaning over to Tommy, lowering his voice a little.
"Let me tell you in secret: I think if it weren't for you, everyone here would have gotten coal."
Tommy flushed with pride, straightening up and lifting his chin up high. Wilbur stuck his tongue out at him, but even he couldn't hold back a smile for long. Even if there was actually only kindling for the fireplace waiting for them under the tree (which they didn't even have anyway), it would still be better than any Christmas before meeting Phil. But the awareness that some of the carefully wrapped, colorful gifts are intended for him definitely didn't bother him. In fact, while Techno would never admit it out loud, he was very eager to start tearing the paper off himself, and held back only for the sake of being very mature and not a bit childish like Tommy.
"But quickly..." the boy groaned, hanging himself with his full weight on Phil's shoulder as he tried to calmly prepare coffee and hot chocolate. "I want to know what I got! Now!"
Phil didn't answer, but Techno could have sworn he smiled a little wickedly and slowed his movements even further.
When all the cups finally hit the table, Tommy was so impatient that at the first sign he practically threw himself towards the poor tree and almost knocked it over with the stand.
"This one is for me!" He rejoiced after a few seconds of squinting his eyes over the letters written on the felt-tip pen. He set the package aside, carefully and almost reverently, before grabbing the next one. "Oh. And this one is for Techno!"
He tossed the package towards the couch, from which Techno had to lean out to prevent the gift from hitting the floor in time.
"Hope you didn't give us anything glass," he joked, watching the child shake the package before tossing it at Wilbur.
Phil sighed heavily, but it was hard not to notice that he was amused himself.
"Let's say I'm glad I saved one of the gifts for later."
Techno raised his eyebrows and was about to ask, but Wilbur was just throwing a ball of colored paper at him, which effectively distracted him.
"Oh, oh!" Tommy jumped in place, digging from the pile of parcels something small, wrapped in a piece of notebook paper, painted with felt-tip pens. "And this one is for you!" He ran over to Phil, holding out his hands. He didn't pull them away when the package was taken, so after a second of confusion, Phil pulled him onto his lap. "Open now! Because it's from me."
Techno stopped trying to strangle one brother for a moment and looked at the other one, a bit surprised by the sudden twinge of nostalgia. Wilbur slowly lowered his shoulders, too, and smiled fondly, though not half as radiant as Phil's.
The gift turned out to be pasta. Painted with paints and strung on thick yarn it looked more than ridiculous, but no one would ever bring up to say it out loud. Wilbur merely raised his eyebrows and turned away, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"My things were so nasty too?"
Techno glanced over his shoulder at the blue cones that still disfigured the living room.
"I don't want to worry you, but compared to you, Tommy has a real talent," he snorted, for which he immediately earned a completely undeserved kick. Honesty was never appreciated in their home, indeed.
Phil, meanwhile, turned the 'necklace' in his hands as carefully as if he were holding real jewels.
"Did you do it yourself?" He said, unnecessarily, because no self-respecting shop would ever put something like this up for sale.
Tommy nodded vigorously.
"Yes! It will match your bracelet. Because it's green too."
"Ooh... Very clever," Phil said, completely ignoring the expression his eldest child made at the comparison. And then he took the boy's face in his hands, staring at him with genuine tenderness for a moment before he leaned in, touching his forehead against his. "Thank you. It's very pretty. I'll definitely wear it."
Techno sincerely hoped he's going to do it only at home. Most of his friends' parents found Phil a bit strange anyway, he really didn't have to worsen that opinion even more. Though it might be worth it, if only for Tommy's smile alone.
"Okay, it's my turn now!" Wilbur slipped off the couch and walked to the Christmas tree on all fours, knocking over the packages for a moment before finding the right one, flat and rectangular, with a disproportionately large bow. He handed it to his dad, and immediately sat down comfortably on the floor, head resting on Phil's lap.
Phil looked at the gift uncertainly, probably trying to x-ray the paper and make sure the entire couch wasn't drowning in the glitter at any moment before he slowly started unpacking. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at his son, then back at the scroll of pages in his hand, and his lips twitched in a restrained smile.
"A voucher for a free house vacuum," he announced with theatrical delight. "Wow. Very generous. Oh, and for washing the dishes." He flipped another page. "And even dusting! Awesome. I guess all your chores are here. Which you have to do anyway." He leaned out to lightly smack his son on the head with a bundle of pages. "How kind of you to have it in writing now."
Wilbur, completely unfazed, smiled innocently.
"I gave you a few for free hugs." He pulled out a page of a slightly brighter color from the very bottom. "Because you're so clingy."
Phil rolled his eyes.
"Mhm... of course," he snorted, but then his face softened and he laughed, holding Tommy with one arm so that his other hand ran through his son's hair. Wilbur immediately bowed his head, closing his eyes, as befits someone who absolutely dislikes physical contact and needs, literally, a special invitation. Immediately, however, he jumped up from the floor and trotted again to the Christmas tree.
"I have one more!" He announced proudly, tossing the long, cylindrical package from hand to hand.
Phil glared at him, probably not quite sure he wanted to know what could be better than a pot washing coupon, but with Tommy's eager help, tore the paper open.
"Very funny," he said, as he pulled a wooden, nicely decorated cane from the roll. He scowled at it as if it had done him great harm, and then, with no less offense, at Wilbur.
Wilbur just rocked on his heels, grinning from ear to ear.
"It's because you're old," he explained helpfully, finding it necessary to drive the pin even deeper.
Phil tossed the cane in his hand, pointing the tip straight at his son's chest.
"You better be careful that I don't beat you with this stick," he threatened.
Wilbur inhaled sharply, putting his hand to his heart.
"You would never! You know I'm too traumatized for this." He flung his hair, sighed softly. "And you don't have a coupon for that."
Phil didn't look like he cared about any kind of written permission. But since he was himself, far too soft and easy to manipulate, after a while he set his cane back against the couch and stretched out his arms, gesturing for the boy to come closer.
"You're a goddamn gremlin, you know that?" He sneered, ruffling his hair.
"I know." Wilbur nodded, way too smug. But immediately he hesitated, and his smile faded slightly. "Buuut, you love me anyway?"
It sounded much more like a question, quiet and uncertain, as if suddenly a shadow of sincere sadness pierced from beneath all the mirth. Maybe that's why Phil's hands trembled slightly as he pulled him close, pressing him against his chest as if he wanted to chase away all bad thoughts and memories with one hug.
"The most in the world," he assured, kissing the top of his disheveled hair. "And I like you very, very much."
Wilbur stepped back to meet his eyes.
"No one can dislike me" he replied, again in the same, joking tone, and suddenly everything was again exactly as it should be, and Techno could breathe again, calmed down.
Tommy, on the other hand, didn't seem to be the least bit moved by the whole scene. On the other hand, he was clearly impatient that no one had been paying attention to him for a good few minutes, which, as you know, was a terrible crime and needed a quick fix.
"Now me!" He decided, slipping off Phil's knees and squeezing past Wilbur on his way to the curved stalk that looked like a Christmas tree. "I have another one!"
He pulled out another very ecologically packed package, which he immediately shoved into Phil's hand, bouncing around waiting for a moment of truth and dramatically revealing the contents. Which turned out to be another noodle necklace.
"Oh." Phil blinked before he remembered that he should be enthusiastic. "Another one?"
"Yes!" Tommy nodded as he grabbed both necklaces and, standing on tiptoe, tugged Phil by the sleeve. He obediently lowered himself, letting the noodles hang around his neck. "And this one is red. Because red stuff is the best. And I like red, and I like you too, so it fits."
Techno could have sworn their father's eyes had gotten a little too glassy and wet for a moment.
"Oh," he gasped before he hastily cleared his throat and grinned. "I like you very, very much too, kiddo. But I think you should start opening your gifts."
He clearly wanted to give himself some time to cool down, but Techno had no intention of making it easy for him.
"Nope. Now me," he decided, standing up and reaching into his sweatshirt pocket to pull out a small rectangular cardboard box wrapped in a ribbon. He spent a good half an hour trying to tie the perfect bow and, in fact, remembering his brothers' gifts, he figured he could forgive himself. Still, he hesitated before handing the package to Phil. "Just..." His fingers tightened for a moment. "I didn't steal it," he pointed out. "Just saying."
Phil's smile slipped, replaced by anxiety.
"I'm not sure if I like this introduction..." he said, nervously brewing the box in his hand. Apparently, however, he still had some trust in his own children, for he allowed Tommy to pull the ribbon to help tear the paper apart, and even to remove the lid from the decorative cardboard. Only then did he stop the boy with a hand movement and for a moment stared at the contents with wide eyes.
In a white padded box was a bracelet, gold, with a large green stone gleaming in the center.
"Techno-," he began, but the boy, prepared for the protests, immediately cut in on him.
"I helped Dream with his lessons," he explained, shifting slightly. "Kinda. I mean, I did it for him, but his parents think he's doing everything by himself, so everyone is happy." He shrugged. "They still think that he hit me first and I think they feel a bit sorry, because they really paid me well."
It was hard not to feel the note of pride in his voice, which he wasn't trying to hide. He liked being enterprising almost as much as Dream liked getting good grades for essays he hadn't even read. He had slight doubts as to whether the teachers would appreciate the genius of their cooperation. They would probably have a few comments about its 'moral' side. And Phil probably too, judging by the expression he made for the second before he remembered that for the moment he was literally holding something far more important than a potential student suspension.
"Techno, I can't-"
"I won't buy you anything next year." He suggested hastily, seeing that it didn't have much effect, he added: "Nor in two years. And you'll only get half a birthday present," he tried to joke, but he knew it was a little weak. He bit the inside of his cheek. "Please." He tried a different, more honest and desperate side. "I really wanted you to have it."
Phil's face softened instantly.
"This one is fine," he said, raising his hand, the wrist still holding the green-painted pebble.
Techno winced at the comparison, but then looked down, nervously tugging on the sleeves of his sweatshirt.
"Yeah, but..." He took a lot of breath, but finally just let it out slowly. "You'll laugh."
"You know I won't."
"But Wilbur will."
Phil nodded.
"Yes, probably. He's Wilbur."
Techno huffed, but relaxed a bit as he tried again to find the right words.
"Because the old one is... childish. Well, because I gave it to you when I was little, so it makes sense, but I wanted to…” His fingers tightened on his sleeves, swallowing. He was never good at talking about feelings, and the harder he tried, the harder it was for him. "I wanted you to know that even when I'll be actually an adult and all, I will still care. And you'll still be my dad and I will love you and everything..."
He almost whispered the last words, lowering his voice more and more, feeling his cheeks begin to burn. And it didn't help at all that when he fell silent, the living room went completely silent, as if everything froze with him for a moment, waiting for a reaction. He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear exactly, he just knew that he was looking for it with his whole body, that if he didn't get it, wouldn't hear it, he would always be disappointed in some way. Maybe it was about reassuring him that he was right. Maybe to be sure that his feelings are mutual. Maybe the fact that even in a few or a dozen years, when he actually grows up, this house will still remain his home. That even then he would remain Phil's son, regardless of the fact that he was never and never will be the perfect child.
He felt a tug on his sleeve and instinctively lifted his head to look at Tommy.
"Techie." The boy tugged again, as if trying to wake him up. "Techie, dad's crying."
As if on cue, Phil sniffed loudly and hurriedly wiped his cheeks with his hands, taking a quick, shallow breath.
"I'm fine," he said, blinking back tears.
Wilbur immediately sat down next to him and handed him a tissue. Tommy didn't want to be worse, so he immediately appeared on the other side, digging through his pockets, and when he found nothing in any of them, he pulled his sleeve over his hand and held it under Phil's nose.
"You should have given him a necklace." He said, looking at Techno with superiority. "He didn't cry because of the necklace."
Phil laughed, refusing to take advantage of the tempting offer of sniffing his clothes, but squeezing the boy's hand lightly.
"I'm crying because I'm happy," he explained before turning around and reaching out with his other hand to his eldest son. Techno didn't hesitate a second before he grabbed it, letting him pull him into an embrace. And if he himself hugged his father a little too tightly, too desperately - it was only a secret between them.
"Thank you." Phil pushed him slightly away from him and Techno very reluctantly loosened his grip. He didn't really have time to be angry about it, as soon a warm hand rested on his cheek, and their foreheads touched each other. "For what you said. And for the bracelet too."
And by some miracle of all the words in the world, these just turned out to be right. Especially whispered a moment later, "I love you too".
"And I still think my gift is the best," Tommy judged, his habit of interfering as soon as he felt a little too forgotten. Techno would have smacked him for that, really, but the child had stepped back in time and stuck out his tongue at him. And then suddenly he straightened up and with a dramatic "Ah!", ran to the Christmas tree, and after a while he returned with one more, small package. "I have one more! I just forgot."
The world would not lose much if it forgot forever, because the gift turned out to be another, this time a blue, pasta necklace.
"We won't have anything to eat soon," Techno commented as Phil allowed their potential dinner to be wrapped around his neck.
"Techno's just kidding," he said quickly as a hint of anxiety flashed across the child's face. "But you could have packed them all together, you know?"
Tommy wrinkled his nose, perhaps even offended by such an offer.
"But then you would only get one gift," he huffed, displaying a perfect knowledge of mathematics in terms of three. "And now you got three! I just wanted you to enjoy it more."
Wilbur made a loud 'toady' noise, but no one paid much attention to him. Especially Phil, who was so emotionally broken that he would probably be destroyed even by the fact that one of his sons was breathing towards him.
"Oh. Ooh, Tommy...” He squeezed the boy's cheeks, kissing his forehead. "It's very nice. Thank you."
The child looked at him expectantly, and when nothing else happened, he frowned.
"Aren't you gonna say you love me?" He demanded.
Techno concluded that he was completely unnecessarily afraid that Tommy might take his place in the family. Little shit skipped over it at full speed and jumped to the top of the hierarchy, taking the position of the favorite once and for all. The look Wilbur sent him told him that he was not alone in this belief.
Phil was silent for a moment, staring at the boy with wide, wet eyes before smiling, in that close to teary way.
"Of course I will." He hugged the kid tightly, rocking him gently. His voice was breaking, and each subsequent breath was more and more tearful, but he kept trying to pull himself together. "I couldn't forget it. I love you most in the world, no matter what. As much as I love these two gremlins."
Tommy rested his chin on his shoulder.
"And this is very much?"
"Very much."
Techno leaned towards his brother, lowering his voice a bit.
"He's bloody cunning after all," he assessed with genuine admiration. And then he slapped Wilbur on the back of the head, not lightly at all. - "It's definitely your fault."
Wilbur, though indignant at first, smiled aggressively.
"I told you I'd make a champion out of him," he replied proudly, as if he had actually done something hard, and damn important.
They unwrapped the rest of the presents in relative peace by Tommy's standards, running around the room and loudly announcing to the world how much he liked each thing he picked out of the papers. Techno watched him surreptitiously, feeling a strange pressure in his heart as he remembered the time when he had practically nothing himself, and every toy, book, every new piece of clothing, and even a stupid toothbrush seemed valuable if only because he could name it his own. It was easy to forget about it, with Phil who liked to pamper them in every way he could. Techno wanted to forget. He wanted to believe that his whole life had been as simple as it was now, that none of these ordinary, normal things had ever seemed strange and unusual to him, somewhere beyond his grasp.
"And I can talk to Tubbo?" Tommy said, turning the new tablet over in his hands, carefully covering the entire screen with his fingerprints. His eyes shone in the light of colored lights, and his disheveled hair wrapped around his reddened cheeks. "I'll be able to call him like an adult?"
"Only if his parents agree, yes." Phil nodded, but then frowned. "And if you do your homework first."
Tommy's smile faded slightly for a moment.
"But why?" He asked, tilting his head. "Now I've found Tubbo, so I don't need to be able to write."
Techno could have sworn that he could see in Phil's eyes a shadow of despair at the vision of several more years of his child's education.
"School doesn't just teach you to write, Tommy."
The boy wrinkled his nose and looked at him almost indignantly.
"Is there gonna be something else?" He puffed up his cheeks, but his eyes kept darting down to the tablet over and over again, which effectively prevented him from taking offense. "Fine," he grunted finally. "But only because I really want to talk to Tubbo!"
He carefully put the tablet back in the box, touching the screen a little more to be sure, so that by any chance no piece was left clean, before he reached for the last packet with his name on it.
"Ah." Phil straightened and reached out, urging him to come closer. He pulled the boy onto his lap, pressing his back against his chest, resting his chin on the top of his pale hair. "This is... a special gift."
The kid's eyes widened and he twitched with excitement.
"Special?" He repeated, already tearing a corner of the paper.
"Yhm. So please try not to spill anything on it again."
Techno glanced sideways, exchanging a glance with Wilbur. They both knew that Tommy could be bloody self-destructive, but such a sabotage, even if unknowingly, neither of them expected.
Meanwhile, the child dealt with the packaging, opened the colorful wheelbarrow and looked through the pages just collected from it with a very focused expression, squinting and spelling the words under his breath.
"I won't read it!" He finally shifted, throwing his briefcase on the couch with a flourish. "It's homework! You can't give me homework on Christmas! It's illegal. And you'll get coal for that!"
Wilbur stopped smiling and rolled his eyes.
"They're adoption papers, you idiot," he snorted, throwing a ball of paper at the child. It hit the very center of the forehead, and the boy squealed as if it had been crushed by at least a ton of boulders.
Phil glanced from one to the other and sighed heavily.
"Wilbur." He gave his son a scolding look, but immediately focused all his attention on his younger child, tearing out of his embrace, probably to throw the whole Christmas tree at his brother as a rematch. "Tommy, listen." He sat the boy down beside him, turning so that he could look him straight in the eye. "I know that you haven’t been with us long and that not everything has always been as good as it should be. And I know it's not an easy decision to make, and I understand if you need more time to think about it. No matter what you say, you can stay with us if you want. The offer will still be available when you feel ready." He smiled, probably trying to encourage himself mainly, because although his face was serious, his voice was a little broken, and his hands tightened on Tommy's fingers as if he needed it more now. "I'd like to adopt you, Tommy. I wish you were officially my son. A member of our family. But only if you want it yourself."
The room grew silent, as if the whole world had frozen in anticipation of the verdict. Techno found himself instinctively clamping a hand on his thigh to keep his knee from trembling. Wilbur ran his fingers nervously in the air as if he were tapping a tune. And only Tommy seemed completely unfazed, his face indifferent and his eyes fixed on Phil as if he were still waiting for something more.
Then he turned, looked at the folder he had left behind, and wrinkled his nose.
"So I don't have to read it?" He made sure as if that was what worried him the most about it all: having to read more than two sentences. When faced with a major life-long decision, it was important to choose your priorities.
Phil must have come to a similar conclusion, for though he nodded, he was looking at the boy as if it had suddenly grown two horns. Meanwhile, with obvious satisfaction, Tommy pushed the pages a little further, as if to be sure.
"Well that's good," he said, as if nothing had happened.
Phil opened his mouth, but said nothing, and after a long moment he closed it and leaned sideways against the back of the couch as if reality had just overwhelmed him.
"Tommy, do you understand what 'adoption' means?"
It wasn't a particularly wise question, but Techno could tell when someone was just running out of ideas, and he didn't deserve to be reproached for his desperation.
Meanwhile, as if nothing had happened, Tommy resumed spreading his fingers on the tablet screen.
"That you want me forever." He said without much concern. Then he looked up and made a face as if someone were trying to sell him last year's model for this year's price. "But that's no surprise."
Phil blinked and, this time, he was not alone in his amazement.
"It's not?"
"No." The boy shrugged, cheerfully swinging his legs in the air. "Because I knew right away that I would stay."
"Oh, really?"
"Mhm." He finally put the tablet down on his lap and grimaced slightly. "Only the first time, something didn't work out and you didn't understand it. And it was stupid because I did everything right!"
Phil took a deep breath and held it for a moment before he sighed aloud, reaching out to stroke the kid's hair.
"Of course you did," he said, almost tenderly. "You've never done anything wrong."
"Exactly!" Tommy jumped in place, his arms waving excitedly. "And I was good and kind and even called you 'dad' because Wilbur said you're weak and that would break you. I did everything!"
He nodded, admitting a holy and indisputable right, but no one paid much attention to it. Phil was just busy staring at the void as if he had hung up somewhere in the middle of processing these revelations, and Wilbur pressed his back a little tighter into the chair, trying to appear much smaller.
"Ah. Wilbur said that?" When Phil finally spoke, his voice seemed almost indifferent, but the look he gave his son might not only kill him, making death suddenly seem like a nicer option. He reached for the cane leaning against the couch and weighed the wood in his hand. "I am beginning to see the potential of this gift..."
Wilbur curled his shoulders, suddenly much paler.
"I wanted to help," he muttered, fingering the hem of his pants.
Phil grimaced, shaking his head.
"I'm sure my therapist will hear about this," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
Techno immediately used the moment of his inattention to punch his brother on the back of the head with all his might.
"For being an idiot," he hissed as the latter glared at him indignantly. He leaned in, lowering his voice so only he could hear. "It really made him cry."
Wilbur stopped making a face as if he considered himself the most harmed victim of the oppression of an unjust world, and hung his head, clearly ashamed. Techno immediately punched him again, so that he blew his nose into his own lap.
"And that's for calling me a 'traitor' afterward," he said, a little louder, because he still felt bloody hurt by it. "For no reason!"
Wilbur, covering the back of his head with his hands, moved away from him as far as he would be able to rest.
"Because you convinced dad that Tommy couldn’t call him that!" He squeaked, lifting his leg to deliver a defensive kick if necessary.
Techno, already grabbing his ankle, froze for a moment before straightening up, electrocuted.
"No I didn't!"
Wilbur was already opening his mouth, probably to keep arguing, but something in his brother's face must have told him he was serious because he closed his mouth and slowly lowered his hands.
"You didn't?" He muttered, his arms hanging down. "But... Because you said you talked to him and I thought you hated Tommy and..." He paused, bit his lip, and leaned in resignedly. "Okay, one more time. I deserve it."
Techno could not be asked twice.
"Boys." Phil looked at them pointedly. "Enough of that."
Wilbur, usually the last one to obey any command, nodded his head very eagerly this time and moved as far as possible, still massaging the back of his head. Techno lowered his hand a lot less willingly, but finally, after giving his brother one more warning look, he started unwrapping one of his last gifts, by far the largest of them all, rectangular, at least halfway down his thighs and as long as he was wide. .
“Oh.” He blinked in surprise as most of the paper landed on the floor, revealing the metal bars of a large cage. "Oh," he repeated, his face serious as he turned to look at Tommy. "So? Will you come in on your own, or should I help you?"
The child's eyes widened in terror.
"No!" He squeaked, jumping away and clutching hard on Phil's shoulder. "No, I won't go in there!"
"It's okay, I'll help." Techno pretended to get up, and the room immediately filled with a screech on frequencies that could be heard even by whales.
"No! Daaad...! Techno said-!"
"Boys," Phil sighed heavily, shaking his head, but took the baby to him, his other hand stroking his hair. "Nobody will lock anyone in a cage." He looked at the older sons, suddenly serious. "Is that clear?"
Wilbur hummed with obvious disappointment. Tommy stuck his tongue out at them. Techno seriously considered if he could fit both in the cage at once.
"If I find out that any of you have even tried, I'll be really angry." Phil pointed at each one in turn, his eyes narrowing as he tried to look threatening. And then he instantly brightened and, gently pushing Tommy away, stood up, stretching his back as if he had at least run a marathon. "Wait a minute, I'll be right back."
Techno paid little attention to him, pulling the rest of the paper off the cage and turning it in all directions.
"What do I need it for?" He began, but suddenly he broke off and looked in horror at his last gift. He slid off the couch to the floor, pulling the package closer, and hurriedly tore the package open, opening the cardboard carton in one swift motion. Then he felt all the air escaping from him, replaced by a blissful relief when he saw only the books inside. "God!" He put a hand to his chest, still feeling his heart pound. "For a moment I thought you put there-"
He turned to call out to Phil how much he hated being exposed to a heart attack at such a young age, but fell silent again. This time, for a change, he could have sworn his heart had stopped for a good second.
Phil stood in the kitchen doorway, grinning broadly, holding a fluffy white pile of fur in his arms.
"I'm not a sadist," he joked, coming closer, and when Techno made no move, he himself knelt down in front of him. "Stretch out your hands. Yes, exactly. Watch out, he's a little scared."
Techno could say the same about himself when he held the trembling rabbit against his chest as gently as he could.
"He's so little..." he whispered, carefully running his fingers over long ears and then pulling his hand back as the animal shuddered even more.
Wilbur crouched behind his back, resting his chin on his shoulder to see better, and immediately began to dwell on the new household's high level of sweetness, but Techno could barely hear him, pressing the rabbit a little tighter to his chest.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, drawing circles on one of his paws with his thumb. "Nobody's gonna do anything to you, I promise."
The animal either didn't hear him or didn't really believe him, because he could feel how hard his heart beats. It sped up even more when Tommy suddenly appeared beside him and began to stroke his head.
"I want a pet too!" He announced as Techno moved out of reach of his hands. "It's not fair! Wilbur has a fish and Techno has a rabbit, I want something too!"
"You have Tubbo," Wilbur snorted, and the boy grumbled instantly, puffing up his cheeks and folding his arms over his chest.
"Has he got a name?" Techno asked, completely ignoring the scuffles of his brothers. Phil shook his head. "Oh. Then let it be Fluff."
Somewhere behind his back Tommy insisted that 'Terminator' was a much more serious and better name, but he wasn't listening to him.
He looked up, finding Phil's gaze, and smiled before leaning down, resting his forehead on his shoulder.
"Thank you," he said softly as he found himself with a slightly uncomfortable hug, all the while making sure that the new pet didn't accidentally feel too claustrophobic.
Phil leaned in to kiss his head.
"You're welcome."
There were many reasons to say thanks. Of that one thing, Techno was absolutely sure as he sat on the couch for the rest of the morning, admonishing Tommy over and over that Fluff was not a toy, sipping hot chocolate and laughing at Wilbur's stupid jokes. He was sure of it when he and his brothers were building an igloo in the afternoon, which only knocked over on their heads twice as they pounded the snow and chased each other around the yard, completely unaffected by the cold as the warm house waited for them to return. He was sure of it when they looked at the Christmas tree in the park one more time in the evening, racing between the stalls and maneuvering among strangers. When, tired of an emotional day, they almost fell asleep on the way back, crammed into the three of them in the backseat of the car.
"Dad?" He muttered yet, somewhere on the verge of sleep and waking, wrapped in a duvet in his own warm bed. Phil paused in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, then turned and stepped back, perching on the edge of the mattress. "Thank you. Really."
And it wasn't just about Fluff dozing in his new cage. Not about any other gifts, not about the Christmas tree and decorations, not even about how happy he felt all day.
Techno never believed that he would ever feel truly safe. Really loved and accepted as part of the family, irreplaceable and necessary.
But when Phil squeezed his hand, the past felt distant and fuzzy, and the future a lot less terrible and lonely. Exactly as it should be.
For forever.