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Technoblade is not a father.
He doesn’t have a child of his own blood, and from what conversations they’ve had throughout the past, Phil knows that he doesn’t really want one. He wouldn’t trust himself with one, for the most part. He doesn’t think himself suitable for it.
Technoblade is a warrior, first and foremost. He’s a soldier at heart, for that is how he was raised, and that’s how he’s lived. With death at every corner, and blood at his fingertips. That’s how he was carved. Even with the years of peace they’ve gained, even with this home they’ve built for themselves, Techno holds his habits close.
He still makes rounds around their home when the night feels too tense. He checks every door, every window, every lock. Phil can hear his footsteps pacing through the hall sometimes.
He still keeps daggers hidden around the house in easy to reach spots, for the purpose of possibly needing them one day. They’re all kept sharp, dangerous and useful, and while Phil doesn’t think it’s needed, he’s never spoken out against it. He mostly uses them for dinner, honestly.
He still keeps his skills practiced, often going out with a sword and going through basic exercises. Sometimes Phil only watches him, happy that his practice is now nothing more than just practice. Sometimes he goes and spars Techno, and cheats with his wings, using them as a way to gain higher leverage from above.
Ever since Wilbur was brought home, the habits have shifted. They didn’t leave, not entirely, but they changed.
Techno’s made it a routine to check the perimeter every night, not just occasionally. He walks more quietly now, mindful of the noise. Phil lays in bed with Wilbur sleeping upon his chest, and he listens to the shuffle of movement, kept content with the knowledge that the house is being made secure, even if there is no threat to make it otherwise.
Techno moved every single one of their weapons in the first week Wilbur settled home. They’re still easy to grab, sharpened as always, but they’re kept at a certain height, now. Kept tucked away. As if to avoid any wandering, naive hands from getting to them.
(Phil doesn’t say anything to Techno about the fact that Wilbur hasn’t learned to walk yet. He supposes it’s good to work in advance.)
Techno doesn’t practice much in sparring anymore. He still does it, of course, he can never grow rusty, but in the times where he’d usually step outside with a sword in hand, he instead goes with Wilbur in his arms, for the two of them to take a walk and enjoy the sun falling onto their faces.
Technoblade is a warrior at heart, most would say, but he’s a gentle soul in Phil’s eyes. Phil never asked him to change. He never asked him to grow softer, to be more careful, so that the child in their home would be more safe. He did that on his own, with all the concern of a man who wants to raise their child well.
Techno is not a father, that is true. But he has a son.
His name is Wilbur.
---
Every year, during the winter months, when the snow gets particularly cold and the storms grow a bit too harsh, Techno falls into hibernation. It’s a piglin thing, mostly, some sort of reaction to the long, cold weeks. As a hybrid, Techno thankfully doesn’t sleep the entire winter away, but he still sleeps for a good couple of weeks, up to a month, usually.
It’s a routine thing they’ve gotten used to. Phil takes care of him during it. He carries on with the chores, keeps the house clean and keeps the fire burning. He sits at Techno’s side with food and water in the spare moments he wakes up, and he covers him up with the blankets when he drifts back to sleep right after.
In the middle of his sleep, Technoblade is nothing like a soldier. If anything, he’s more like a clingy mess of tangled pink curls. His hair always becomes a disaster when he’s underneath all those blankets. On the days where Phil sits beside him and brushes it out, braiding it neatly, Technoblade holds onto him and refuses to let go. Phil’s gotten stuck in their pile of blankets more than once, thanks to that. He never fails to find it amusing.
Phil usually prepares for Techno’s hibernation a few weeks in advance. When the snow starts falling and the wind becomes sharp, that’s when he knows there should be plenty of pillows stacked up upon their bed. Technoblade’s always told him when the exhaustion starts to creep up on him, he’s never been anything less than transparent about the need to bury himself away and doze off, but things changed this year.
For this winter, Phil doesn’t mean to forget. He just gets distracted, for a good reason.
Wilbur is a talkative bundle of joy in their home, always chatting and babbling away to one of them, always reaching his hands up so that he may be carried into someone’s arms. He is Phil’s son, in every way, and he’s Techno’s son as well, in every way that matters.
The kid hasn’t yet gotten the hang of walking, but he’s persistent on crawling, for sure. He moves around the living room with an endless energy, tiny wings flapping earnestly behind him, and either Phil or Techno always have to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t end up crawling right towards the fireplace.
He laughs when Phil kisses him on the cheek, and he screams with joy when Technoblade throws him up into the air, catching him easily every time.
He loves holding onto Techno’s hair, twisting it up as if he is braiding it together like how Phil does it. He loves seeing Phil’s wings stretch out wide, and he tries to copy with his own, his small feathers still seeming too tiny when fully stretched out.
He chews messily with the food he’s given, and offers up his bowl to Techno each time he passes, like he must share. Phil has to insist that the food is just for him.
He sleeps fitfully some nights, waking up with loud cries, and he sleeps peacefully on others, snuggled up into their sides with small hands holding tight onto their shirts.
He giggles and kicks his feet and flaps his precious little wings, and he is justifiably the most important thing in the house for the first few months he is there. He takes up Phil’s time, takes up Techno’s attention, and they are all happy for it.
And then winter creeps along.
The days grow colder, and snow scatters across their lawn. Phil takes Wilbur out for a short while, all bundled up, and lets him experience his first snow. He holds a hand up out to the sky, and Wilbur copies him, holding his gloved hand up with wide eyes. When he sees what’s gathered on his tiny palm, he tries to eat it. He doesn’t seem so happy with the freezing feeling on his tongue.
Technoblade watches from the porch with a fond smile, his cape draped over his shoulders to keep the worst of the chill off. When Phil comes back for them all to head inside, he takes Wilbur into his arms and holds him close, sitting before the fireplace, carefully pulling off his boots and gloves. Wilbur babbles up at him with kicking feet.
The fire burns more often in the next few days. Their wood pile gets low. Technoblade takes it upon himself to go out for wood, insisting Phil stay inside with Wilbur. He also takes it upon himself to go out for food, for hunting, insisting that the weather is too frigid to take Wil along. He even takes it upon himself to carry on repairs on the house, to look after their dwindling crops, to check up on the livestock.
He says Wilbur should stay in the house. He says he should stay warm. Phil doesn’t protest, because he agrees wholeheartedly. The last thing they want is for their kid to grow sick from playing out in the chill.
He keeps Wilbur with him for most of the days, and while Techno takes on most of the chores outside, he busies himself with everything inside, so that there’s balance. He works on dinner and breakfast. He cleans the rooms and watches over Wil, and washes their clothes out on the porch. It’s a pleasant routine.
But Techno seems- tired, most days, when he comes back inside. He explains it away with the fact he’s taking all the heavy work, and says that he’ll adapt to it soon enough. He blames the cold for making him slow, and Phil should’ve realized then, but he doesn’t. He just offers to swap, and when Techno stays stubborn, he gives him a scarf and an extra coat as compromise.
Techno takes it without complaint. He continues to seem tired. Phil continues offering to head outside instead. Technoblade won’t let him, shaking his head and insisting for Phil to stay with Wilbur. With the stern tone in his voice, hints of worry woven through, Phil doesn’t push it. Techno seems earnest about it.
Maybe a bit too earnest.
The snow falls more heavily, and Techno disappears outside more often. He comes in for dinner, and is there for the better part of the day, but little by little, he keeps heading outside, with the excuse that there’s work to do, there’s things he hasn’t finished up. Phil keeps offering to help, and he’s turned down. He offers Techno to take a day off, and he’s waved off. He even bribes Techno with Wilbur missing his company. Technoblade falters at that, and stays for a while more, but he leaves nonetheless, with a kiss pressed to Wilbur’s head before he goes.
Technoblade assures that he’s fine, but Phil swears he sees an invisible weight sitting on his shoulders. He moves more slowly, yawns more often, and there’s an exhausted look sitting behind his eyes that makes Phil’s chest squeeze with worry. No matter how he points it out, Technoblade always moves past it. He keeps going outside, keeps working in the snow.
It’s on one chilly morning while Phil is tidying up their blankets that he realizes then. He holds a folded blanket in his palms and wonders how he didn’t notice. He wonders how he didn’t realize that by this time, there should be someone resting underneath the covers, kept away from the worst of the cold. He wonders for a second why Techno did not say anything about his hibernation, why he didn’t remind them both about preparing for it.
But then it dawns on him why. It’s not hard to pull apart Techno’s thought process. They are in the middle of winter now, with one extra body joining them in the warmth of the house. Before, Phil would not have struggled with taking care of himself while Techno slept the weeks away. Now, he would no doubt find it a bit more difficult. Taking care of a baby on his lonesome isn’t impossible, but it’s still a bit of work during snowfall like this.
Techno didn’t want to leave him alone. He didn’t want to leave him and Wilbur by themselves while he himself fell asleep for weeks on end.
Phil huffs out with a shake of his head. “He’s an idiot.” He tells Wilbur, who’s sleeping away on his back, tucked away in a cloth slung around Phil’s shoulders.
It’s still early in the day. Techno is outside, and will be for some time, so Phil pulls their extra blankets out from their storage, piling them onto their bed, adjusting them with the pillows until it’s comfortable enough for a long sleep. He looks through the closet, searching for a loose set of pajamas. He starts up a pot of tea, mixed with something meant to help with rest. He adds to the fire, letting the cabin walls grow warm.
It’s nice, in a way, to settle back into this routine, knowing what’s to come. He’s still a touch guilty for forgetting, but he’s making up for it now.
When everything is set up and done, Phil adjusts Wilbur’s sleeping figure to rest against his chest and he pulls a cape over his shoulders. He heads out the door, on the search for his idiot. He doesn’t need to search for long. He checks by where they store the wood first, and he finds Techno kneeling down in the snow, hunched over with a pile of uncut logs still beside him. His heart jolts at the sight.
“Techno!” Phil calls, breaking out into a run. Techno doesn’t even flinch at his yell, and Phil collapses down beside him, arms reaching out, his wings wrapping close to try and shield them from the lightly falling snow. Techno’s resting against his axe, the blade sitting against the snow with the bottom of the handle held up. Techno’s hands lay crossed on the top of it, and his chin rests on the top of his knuckles. His eyes are closed, and there’s snow scattered all across his fair, like he’s fallen asleep here for some time.
“Technoblade? Techno?” Phil shakes him gently by the arm, holding a hand to his face. He’s frigid, and it scares Phil. He’s tempted to drag Techno inside by the collar right now. He could do it. Would Techno be able to protest? Probably not, if he’s half-dead with the effort of trying to avoid his own hibernation. “Can you hear me, mate?”
Techno’s eyes flutter open, his fingers flexing out from underneath his chin. He looks towards Phil with a confused furrow in his brow for a moment, then he lifts his head and looks down to see Wilbur against Phil’s chest. The confusion slips into worry.
“What are you doing outside?” Techno asks, and Phil smacks him in the side of the head with his wing. “Hey-!”
“What were you doing on the ground?” Phil snaps back, if only to shut down the needless concern. “What are you doing, Techno?” He asks a bit softer, his voice thick with worry.
“I…” Techno blinks, and he hasn’t yet looked away from Wil. His mouth hangs open. “I was chopping wood?” He glances at the logs beside him. “I didn’t finish.” He mumbles.
“We have plenty of wood to last us.” Phil reassures. “You should come inside, come on.”
Techno shakes his head. “I should-”
“Whatever there is that needs to be done, it can wait. I can do it later.”
Techno huffs, looking up with a frown. “I don’t want you to do it.”
Phil raises his eyebrows. “And you’re going to do it instead? While falling asleep on your feet? You’re not going to do much if you keep going like this.”
Technoblade doesn’t give any good protest to that. He twists his face up in a scowl, and leans forward until his head is resting at the front of Phil’s shoulder, hovering just above Wil’s head. His hands lift up like he means to brush at Wilbur’s face, but he stops himself, not wanting to touch him with cold skin. He instead just lowers his head to rest his forehead against brown curls, letting his hands lay at Phil’s knees.
“I just need a minute.” Techno breathes out, and he sounds seconds from falling back to sleep. “Just- a minute.”
“You need to rest.” Phil answers back in a quiet tone, his hands holding Techno by the arms. “You’re meant to be sleeping by now, I know you know that.”
Techno grunts.
“You can’t just skip it.”
“Why not?” Techno asks, lifting his head with a slight grin. “Anythin’ is possible.”
“Even if you did stay awake, what’s to say you wouldn’t pass out in the snow like you did right now?” Phil points out. Techno’s smile goes flat.
“I didn’t pass out.”
“No?”
“I was…resting.”
Phil nods, like that makes so much sense and clears it all up. “Right, right. Well, then you can come rest inside.”
“The wood-”
“-is taken care of.” Phil cuts him off, tugging at his arms. “It’ll be there for tomorrow. And we have enough to last us for now. Come inside. Wil’s going to get cold out here if we keep waiting.”
Technoblade looks devastated by the last note, and he lets himself get pulled to his feet without any struggle. They shuffle over to the cabin, leaving footsteps behind in the snow. Techno’s feet drag more than they should, and he holds lightly onto Phil’s sleeve, like he won’t be able to walk straight if he doesn’t have someone to keep him upright.
It’s plenty warm when they step inside, and Phil helps Techno pull off his layers, so he can be free from the snow that’s sticking to the top of it. He wants to suggest a warm bath, but honestly doesn’t think Techno would have the energy for it, not with the way he’s staring off into the floor with a dazed look.
“Hey.” Phil nudges him to catch his attention. Techno looks towards him with a furrowed brow. “Why don’t you head to bed? I could bring over some tea, if you don’t want to sleep just yet.”
“I don’t want to sleep at all.” Technoblade stubbornly mutters, and Phil sighs lightly.
“Then just go change. Might as well get out of damp clothes.”
Technoblade seems tempted by that, and he glances towards the hall with consideration. He still seems unsure, though, and after a second, a hesitant mood crosses over his face as he holds a hand up to the cloth wrapped over Phil’s shoulders. “Could I take him with me?” He asks, not much more than a whisper.
Phil only smiles. He nods, and with some help from Techno, he takes Wil out from the cloth, handing him over to Techno’s careful arms. He stirs with the movement, and he blinks back at Phil, before tilting his head up and staring up at Techno. Techno stares back, his expression nearly seeming sad. He brushes his cheek against the top of Wilbur’s head, and Wilbur makes a content noise in response.
“Techno.” Phil says, and Technoblade looks up, blinking quickly. “You alright?”
“Mhm.” Techno nods, but he doesn’t move. Phil nudges him again.
“Go on. I’ll get you your cup of tea.”
Technoblade goes, a bit slower than usual, and just as careful as he was on the first night when he held Wilbur in his arms. Phil watches him walk away with a shake of his head, and he quickly goes to fill a cup with the tea he made earlier.
When he goes to the bedroom, cup in hand, the door is left wide open. Techno is sitting on the bed, but he’s away from all the blankets and pillows, and is instead sitting on the edge, with Wilbur laying on his back next to him. Wil’s raising his hands up, babbling nonsense, and Technoblade is looking at him as if he’s the most precious thing in the world.
“Techno?” Phil calls, but Techno doesn’t respond. He’s holding his hand up to Wilbur’s outstretched ones, and Wil’s taking a hold of his fingers, grabbing on tight. “You could lay down, mate.” Phil suggests, putting the cup on the nightstand and going to sit with them both.
Technoblade gives a half shrug, eyes closing for a moment as he sways in where he’s sitting. Then he opens his eyes, and he leans down closer to Wilbur, holding his other hand up towards him.
“...He’s so tiny.” Techno confesses, words slow and soft. He holds one of Wilbur’s hands in his palm, closing his fingers around it, before opening them up again. “So, so tiny.” He kisses Wilbur’s hand, and Wil laughs up at him.
“Babies are small.” Phil agrees, speaking just as gently as Techno.
“I don’t think I ever told you how much he scared me when you first brought ‘im.” Technoblade continues.
“He scares you?” Phil tilts his head.
“He could be hurt.” Techno explains simply. “It’s so easy for him to be hurt.” He says it like it pains him to admit it, like the words are knives in his throat. “What if I wake up, and he’s not there?”
Phil freezes.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” Techno goes on, but he’s speaking directly to Wilbur. “You’re so tiny, you can’t get hurt.”
Slowly, Phil reaches out to Techno’s shoulder, holding him firmly. Techno lifts his chin, but he doesn’t look away from Wil. “No one’s gonna hurt him, Techno. He’s going to be right here.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“You’re not leaving anyone, you idiot.” Phil holds Techno’s face up, resting his forehead against his. “You’ll be right here, with us. Wil can sleep with you during his naps, and I can let him sit with you when I’m cleaning. He’s not going anywhere. You’re going to be right here.”
Techno’s eyes slip shut, a frown still pulling at his lips.
“He’s not going to think you’re gone.” Phil reassures further. “He knows exactly where you are.” As he looks down, Wilbur’s still gripping tightly to Techno’s fingers, kicking his feet up to hit his wrist as well. He’s still chattering on, saying nothing of grand importance. It’s like he’s trying to just catch Techno’s attention.
“Come on, Wil.” Phil pulls away, and Techno opens his eyes as he picks Wilbur up, sitting him up against his chest. “Tell Technoblade to go to bed. You’re going to be just fine while he rests up, yeah?”
“Abahbah.” Wilbur wriggles in Phil’s hold, hands still reaching out to Techno.
“Yes, yes, exactly. Better listen to the baby, mate.”
Technoblade relaxes at the sight of the two of them, a near smile growing on his face. He leans forward and kisses Wilbur on the side of the head, causing Wil to break out into laughter, hiccuping giggles.
“Can’t argue with that face.” Techno murmurs, and Wilbur whines when he pulls away to stand up. “I should still…” He pulls at his braid, lifting it past his shoulder. He frowns. “Uhg, we missed everything.”
“Sleep.” Phil stands up with him, and he nudges him over to the pile of blankets and pillows. “You’re long overdue for a rest. I’ll brush your hair later.”
Technoblade collapses into the bed with a grunt, like it physically pained him. He rolls over and somewhat adjusts himself into a better position, then he lays still, as if moving again is too much for him to manage. Phil pulls the blankets over him, and when he’s satisfied with how it’s put, he finally places Wilbur down next to him, the baby having been crying out to join him for a whole minute.
Wilbur sits upright next to Techno’s face, scooting closer and leaning down with his hands slapping down on Techno’s chin.
“Hey, Wil.” Techno breathes out, and Wilbur, with all his child strength, knocks his head against Techno’s, a bad mimicry of how Phil sometimes rests his head against Techno’s. Wil whines after having done it, holding a hand to his head. Phil burst out laughing. “Yeah, that’s not how you do it.” Techno smiles, holding a hand up to Wilbur’s face, brushing his curls out of the way.
His eyes slip closed as Wilbur grabs onto his hand, and his arm falls limp, the rest of his body going slack.
“Sleep well.” Phil says for Wilbur, as Techno rests easy, his son holding his hand.