Chapter 1: but I will accept you
Chapter Text
Tommy wakes up feeling terrible. His head is pounding and his throat is dry and sore, not to mention the fact that his chest feels like someone took a knife and carved a hole in it. He groans and tries to sit up when he hears footsteps outside his house, but the effort is too much and he just plops right back down on his pillow.
“Tommy?” a voice calls out. Oh no, Wilbur. “Are you in here?”
He grunts and moves a little under the blankets to alert Wilbur of his presence.
“What–Toms, what are you doing in bed? It’s like noon, you…” Wilbur trails off as he reaches the bed and finally sees Tommy. His face breaks into a giant grin that the blond wishes he could punch right off. “Oh my prime. Are you sick? You’re sick!” he says with far too much glee in his voice for Tommy’s liking. “Come on, get up. We’re going to Techno and Phil’s.”
Tommy squawks indignantly as his brother pulls him out of bed. “No, Wilbur! You know how they get when I’m sick,” he whines.
“Oh yes, we are so going. Aw, baby do you have a fever? Do you want some honey?” Wilbur mimics, pushing him out the door.
“Wilbur!” Tommy yells, not pulling away but still complaining. “Can you hear me? I don’t want to go, you prick.”
The older does nothing but continue to smile in response, “How about a cool rag, can I get you one, darling?”
“Shut up!” Tommy swats at Wilbur’s arm, feeling his face heat up.
Tommy knows how hybrid instincts are. Neither him or Wilbur are hybrids but Technoblade and Phil are, and he’s sure as soon as they see a member of their family, their flock, their sounder sick and hurting, it won’t be good. Both of the older men are extreme mama birds when their instincts kick in and there’s no way they’ll leave Tommy alone once they realize he’s ill.
And what’s terrible is a part of him wants that.
A part of him wants to be held and cuddled and doted on by the people who he once called family. He wants to know that he’s safe in their arms, wants to hear them call him pet names and coo for fuck’s sake . Tommy wants that, so, so bad. But he wants it for real. He wants them to love him even when they’re not knee deep in their instincts, he wants them to love him all the time, not just when it’s convenient, and it hurts because he knows they can’t. He knows they could never really love him that much, not when they’re in the right mind set. It’s too complicated, he’s too difficult. And he could never blame them for that, but it still hurts.
So, as they trudge through the snow Tommy keeps his head down and crushes his hopes. He focuses on the fact that he really is sick, and he can most definitely get Philza and Techno to waste a few gapples and potions on him.
They arrive at the cabin shortly and Wilbur lifts a hand to knock on the large spruce door, still holding onto Tommy with his other arm.
Technoblade ends up opening the door, not Phil, and Tommy flinches when he speaks.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, before narrowing his eyes on Tommy, who shrinks back attempting to hide behind Wilbur in response. “No, scratch that. What is he doing here?”
“He’s sick,” Wilbur says, grinning wildly. Techno’s eyes widen and Tommy can see the exact moment his hybrid-brain kicks in.
He lets out a startled cry as the pink-haired man grabs him by the shoulders, shoves him inside, and grunts, “couch. Now.” Tommy obeys, walking over to the couch and plopping down on it, cross legged, but Techno furrows his brows and shakes his head. “No. You lay down.”
Tommy, slightly shaken, unfolds his legs and spreads them out, resting them on the far arm of the couch. He looks back to Technoblade for approval, and he nods his head curtly before going to find Phil. Wilbur perches on the other arm of the couch, still grinning like an absolute motherfucker. “Stop it, bitch. I can hear your smugness.”
“Aww, are you feeling better, sunshine?” he coos, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“No,” Tommy huffs in annoyance, “my bed was much more fuckin’ comfortable.”
Wilbur snorts, “your bed had moth holes.”
“So? I like moths, dickhead!”
His brother throws his head back and laughs and Tommy thinks, for a moment, that things might be okay. Because he’s in Techno and Phil’s living room, lying down on their couch with Wilbur’s warm laugh filling his ears. And no one is trying to kill, maim, or torture him.
Phil rushes in then, stirring a mug of tea with a soft looking blanket draped over his shoulder. He sets the tea with the spoon in it on the coffee table in front of the couch and gently places the blanket over Tommy. Techno comes in soon after with an old book, falling apart at the seams, and a satchel full of potions. He puts both on the coffee table next to the tea and settles into the armchair next to the couch.
“I’ll read later, if you want,” Technoblade tells him, gesturing to the book. It’s one of his old ones about Greek myths, Tommy knows even without looking at the title. “But for now you should get some more rest, runt.”
Tommy’s brows furrow. Suddenly a thought pops into his head, and, okay, it seems silly but, what if he wakes up and they aren’t there? What if this is a dream? What if he wakes up and everything was a dream and he’s back in exile and Wilbur is dead and Phil is gone and Techno killing his best friend is a fresh wound and–
“Braid my hair,” Tommy blurts, desperately trying to end his train of thought. Techno only looks confused for a moment before he gets up, walks over and kneels down in front of the couch. Tommy turns his head slightly, propping it up more to make it easier for Techno to reach.
As soon as Techno's big, steady hands brush his hair Tommy gasps. Oh he had forgotten how much he loved the feeling of his brother’s calloused hands sifting through his curls. It’s always been one of his favorite things. When they were younger Tommy used to tease him for it, for how gently he handled him. Now he craves it, savors every second of it. The careful sensation of someone so close, so loving is incredibly foreign. It’s almost too much for him to handle.
He begins to tremble slightly, small little shakes that are hardly noticeable at all. And then he’s sobbing. Loud, harsh sobs that rack his body and numb his brain. Techno hands still for a moment before he continues to braid the wailing boy’s hair. At some point, Phil sits down next to him on the couch and lets Tommy rest his legs in the older man's lap. Wilbur reaches out a hand and Tommy clutches it like a lifeline, listening as the brunette hums some faraway tune.
For the first time in months, maybe years, Tommy almost feels safe. He takes refuge in the knowledge that he won’t be here long enough to mess things up, that he’ll be out the door as soon as he’s well again. But for now, he’s here, in the arms of people who loved him once. What a way to feel.
Chapter 2: and I will protect you
Summary:
“Back to sleep, Theseus,” he grumbles tiredly. “‘S too early for this.”
Tommy stares, confused. “But, wha–?”
“Shh,” Techno says, shoving his head into Tommy’s chest affectionately and wrapping his arms around him, “sleep, runt.”
In shock, Tommy’s mouth parts open slightly, and then suddenly, he remembers, it wasn’t a dream. The hands in his hair, the melody in his ears, it was all real. Tommy brings a hand up to his golden curls and feels it. A tiny braid on the side of his head, one Techno had put there.
----
OR bedrock bros moment DEFINITELY NOT A FILLER CHAPTER :D
Notes:
OKAY so first of all if you were here for the first chapter you may have seen that there were supposed to be 3 chapters when I finished this story BUT GUESS WHAT SUCKERS NOT ANYMORE
shut your entire mom and dont talk to me about that apparently there needed to be more than 3 the universe told me
how long will this go on? maybe forever, who fucking knows man? NOT ME
anyway you should be thanking me for this /j also no wilbur in this chap, wilbur enjoyers be warned.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tommy wakes up slowly at first, still groggy with sleep and half dreaming. Oh, he had the best dream last night. Techno was braiding his hair and he was laying on Phil’s lap, with Wilbur squeezing his hand and humming softly. They’d been together, all four of them, and no one had been yelling or swinging swords or letting loose withers. It was the best dream he had had in a long time.
Slowly, Tommy becomes more and more aware of his surroundings. There’s something heavy draped over his chest, and his head feels like it’s being cushioned by a thousand light, feathery pillows. And there’s something warm blowing on his face. Something that feels an awful lot like another person’s breath.
He snaps open his eyes, sits up, and screams.
Next to him in the bed, almost close enough for their noses to touch, is Technoblade, his pink hair falling over his face and spread out on his pillow messily. Techno blinks open his eyes at the sound of screaming and removes the arm that was formerly tucked protectively around Tommy’s waist, taking the younger’s wrists in his hands and shushing him.
“Back to sleep, Theseus,” he grumbles tiredly. “‘S too early for this.”
Tommy stares, confused. “But, wha–?”
“Shh,” Techno says, shoving his head into Tommy’s chest affectionately and wrapping his arms around him, “sleep, runt.”
In shock, Tommy’s mouth parts open slightly, and then suddenly, he remembers, it wasn’t a dream. The hands in his hair, the melody in his ears, it was all real. Tommy brings a hand up to his golden curls and feels it. A tiny braid on the side of his head, one Techno had put there.
Slowly, as if testing the waters, seeing how he’ll react, Tommy reaches out an arm and wraps it around Techno’s shoulder slightly. He desperately wants the touch, the affection, but would it be worth it to take the chance of rejection? What if Techno pulls away, hits him even? Would that be worth it, if the man just laughed at his desperation? Does he want to risk the warmth of the moment, could he stand to lose it? Does Techno even want to be here with him? Apparently, because without a second thought the older man snuggles closer, his face still smushed into Tommy’s middle. The reaction is so immediate, it makes his stomach feel all fluttery and light.
Barely containing a smile, Tommy adjusts himself, resting his chin on top of Techno’s head, breathing in his soft hair and sighing, delighted.
“Sleep now?” Technoblade asks, lifting his head a little from Tommy’s chest expectantly. The blond nods against the man’s head, and Techno settles back down into their little cocoon of safety. Yes, he would sleep now. Tucked securely in his brother's arms and wrapped in soft blankets, Tommy would sleep.
Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever felt so warm before.
They rest for an indeterminable amount of time, limbs completely entangled under the covers. Techno’s snores are deep and soft and really more like little sighs than anything else, they ground Tommy and make him feel real.
The first few times there are knocks at the door or footsteps entering the room, neither of them bothers to get up. Tommy dozes off into a deeper sleep after a while, and wakes up to a different position. For a moment he is confused and disappointed, before he realizes Techno is still cuddling with him. The pink haired man is sitting cross legged with his back propped up against the many pillows behind them and Tommy’s head is resting in his lap. Techno’s fingers brush carefully through his hair, and the younger boy leans into the touch greedily.
At first Tommy doesn’t even register that Techno is talking to someone, he is so focused on the gentle hands in his hair and the arm tucked around his shoulder, which feels less gentle than the hand and much more possessive. Like it isn’t only there to show his affection for Tommy, but to hold him in place.
Tommy doesn’t open his eyes, keeping his breathing level as he tunes into the conversation.
“--just think he’d be a lot more comfortable in the nest, mate. That’s all.” Phil. So that’s who Techno is talking to. Good, no threat then. Probably.
Tommy almost jumps when he hears Technoblade let out a low, dangerous snarl, and is even more surprised when he realizes it’s directed at Phil.
“No, Phil,” Tommy can feel the vibration of Techno’s rumbles as he talks, “we are not moving him to the nest. He’s comfortable here, he’s fine. My runt is just fine. I know how to take care of what belongs to me. He’s mine and he’s okay, just drop it.”
The blond draws in a soft breath, suppressing the urge to shudder at the possessive undertone in Techno’s voice. He hasn’t heard his brother claim him so blatantly like that in too long, and it gives him an undeniable rush giddiness. He almost forgets entirely about the conversation in his high.
He can practically hear Phil purse his lips, trying to keep himself from saying something regrettable. “He’s not only yours, Techno. He’s ours, he belongs to us.”
Technoblade bears his teeth and growls at Phil. A warning. Mine, it communicates, mine-my runt, my sounder. Mine-mine-mine.
“Techno,” Phil tries, heaving an exasperated sigh. “C’mon, mate.”
“Maybe he should be just mine. He likes me,” the pink haired man says, making Tommy hold his breath in anticipation.
Phil sighs again, probably rubbing his temples like an old man as he says, “he likes you, yeah Techno, but he doesn’t like just you. He needs me and Wilbur, you know that.
“Maybe I don’t,” Technoblade challenges.
Tommy decides it’s pretty much pointless to let them continue, they’re just going to keep going back and forth. Besides, he’s heard what he needs to, Techno wants Tommy to belong to him. That’s all he needs to know.
He yawns wide on purpose and makes a big show of blinking his eyelashes in a way that probably resembles a baby deer. As soon as he starts to wake up both men halt their argument, looking down at Tommy fondly.
“Techie?” Tommy asks, forcing grogginess into his voice. Techno responds immediately, hoisting Tommy up further into his lap and wrapping both arms protectively around the boy. No escape, that’s fine. He can work with that. Tommy brings his hands up to hold Techno’s and Phil can’t help cooing at the sight of them.
“Fine, keep him there, you two are awfully cute like that,” Phil says, crossing over to the other side of the bed and slipping off his sandals, “but I’m joining you.”
Technoblade grumbles some half complaint, but he quits as soon as Phil plops down on the mattress and spreads his wings out behind him.
“He’s still mine,” Techno warns, “Theseus, you’re mine, okay?” he tightens his hold on Tommy, not in an uncomfortable way, but certainly a forceful one.
Tommy decides just to nod compliantly, leaning into the older man’s chest. “Yours,” he agrees, smiling as Phil chirps in fond amusement. Techno can get really clingy when he’s in his instincts. So can Phil, just to a lesser degree.
“Good,” he says approvingly, “yes. That’s–yes. Good, mine. You’re mine. I’m yours too, alright runt?”
He smiles and nods, and they repeat the mantra a few more times. Yours, mine. I’m yours, you’re mine. Tommy goes along with it mostly so Techno will calm down and not try to fight Phil or anything, but also because it doesn’t hurt to be reminded of it himself. Even if it’s temporary.
Notes:
hello! if you read the beginning notes (im in love with you if you did) you know why there is now a 2/? instead of /3 for chapters, if you haven’t just go read its not that deep or complicated lmao
sorry for writing a chap with no wilbur but if you dont leave a comment i will kill him off :) /j
anyway my soup is smelling like possessive bedrock bros behavior???? no couldnt be haha...
love them love them sm bedrock bros have my <3 them snuggling literally what i cried. the fluff comes in bulk here :DDD but not for long so dont get too comfortable....also i promise i'll write a chap with real plot for this soon but until then enjoy the endless fluff <3333
kudos/comments appreciated as always ALSO (sorry this is a long note) i obviously cant reply to bookmarks but i absolutely love reading the funny things people bookmark my fics as, if you bookmark my fics as funny/nice things I APPRECIATE YOU. <3
thats all thank you for reading my unhinged self-indulgent turned possessive sbi sickfic???? yeah thanks lol
Chapter 3: and I will respect you
Summary:
Tommy needs something concrete, something he can count on. Something he knows his family will never be. This thought is ugly and it sits in his stomach, twisting and making him feel even more ill. He tunes into the conversation as a distraction from his thoughts.
“Okay,” Phil says, cracking his knuckles and groaning as he gets up from the bed. Old man. “Eggs and toast sound good to everyone?”
Eggs and toast sounds fine to Tommy, but apparently Techno takes issue with this. “No,”
----
OR putting the 'sick' in sickfic eheheheeheh... :))
Notes:
*EDIT*: I wanted to say this but forgot to-
there is a paragraph where tommy is downplaying his symptoms/illness, that is not okay. If you are sick you need to take care of yourself, even seek a medical professional's help in some cases. No matter what it is never good to downplay sickness or think you aren't worth being taken care of. You definitely are. I'm actually sick with covid as I'm writing this and I have been doing major self care these past few days, It's been pretty hard since whenever I'm not doing like 5 things at once I feel useless and unproductive, but I needed this break. If you are sick I urge you to take care and have compassion for yourself <3
thank you for coming to my ted talk
OKAY here it is folks chapter 3! (your applause goes here) this is probably the heaviest so far so stay safe. (ALSO LONGEST CHAP SO FAR POG)
last chapter tommy was delirious so you got fluff but oh no now he is aware.. :)
here are some TWs for this chapter just because I think it needs it.
-implied past abuse throughout
-graphic descriptions of vomiting from:
"Even as Tommy repeats this mantra in his head..."
to
"Techno snorts, swatting his arm lightly..."
and the aftertaste is briefly mentioned afterwards but nothing that graphic.
-non-consensual drug consumption from
"That hope is soon shattered though..."
to
end of story
(the drugs are for medical purposes and nothing is named but I thought you should still be warned)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Wilbur’s entrance is whiny and dramatic, which is very on brand for the man.
“Where have you all been?” he cries, bursting into Techno’s room and flopping onto the mattress in between Phil and Techno. “I had to eat oatmeal for breakfast, oatmeal.”
Phil just chuckles, and Tommy doesn’t respond at all, besides turning his head to see better. He’s still sitting in Techno’s lap, more upright now that he’s not sleeping though, and their hands are wound together and resting on Tommy’s chest. The older man’s chin is tucked safely in the blond’s curls, and they’ve been sitting like this for some time, while all three of them talk. Well, mostly Techno and Phil, Tommy is content to just listen and relish the feeling of his brother’s arms around him.
“You’re a grown man Wilbur, not my fault you don’t know how to cook,” Phil reminds him, much to Wilbur’s dismay.
“But Phil! Just because your darling little sundrop is sick doesn’t mean I don’t exist!” he says, putting air quotes around the pet names. The endearment makes Tommy’s heart pound, does Phil really see him like that? Does Wilbur? No, they don’t, because that would be ridiculous. Tommy isn’t anyone’s ‘ darling little sundrop’, no matter how much he wants to be. “Hello? Am I invisible?” he waves a hand in front of the older blond’s face as if to see if Phil can see him.
The man just snorts, swatting away the hand with ease, “I’ll go make breakfast in a bit, Wil. We can all eat together, I’m sure you won’t mind another meal, you gremlin.”
“No, Dadza. Thank you, Dadza,” he says, saluting Phil and making him chuckle softly again.
There’s something so horribly wrong about how they all fit so neatly into this dynamic, the casualty of it all makes him sick. Being a family isn’t like riding a bike, you can’t just stop for a while and then pick it back up again one day as a fun hobby. Tommy needs something concrete, something he can count on. Something he knows his family will never be. This thought is ugly and it sits in his stomach, twisting and making him feel even more ill. He tunes into the conversation as a distraction from his thoughts.
“Okay,” Phil says, cracking his knuckles and groaning as he gets up from the bed. Old man. “Eggs and toast sound good to everyone?”
Eggs and toast sounds fine to Tommy, but apparently Techno takes issue with this. “No,” he says immediately, tightening his hold on Tommy ever so slightly. He tries not to smile at the plain show of protectiveness “We’re having French toast.”
“Why?” Tommy asks, defying Techno for the first time all morning, testing the waters, seeing how bad the outcome will be. He hopes the man at least won’t hit him, but he braces himself for that anyway.
Techno frowns at him, “because it’s what you want?”
“How do you know that?” he challenges. Something in Tommy screams at him to stop, to apologize, to shrink back into his shell and sit there and wait for Techno to hit him, to yell and scream and mock and laugh. For Phil and Wilbur to sit there and laugh with him at Tommy. It would feel terrible, but at least then he wouldn’t be anticipating anymore. Tommy hates the feeling of anticipation.
Nothing like that comes, but Techno’s reply does slap him in the face, in a way.
“It’s your favorite breakfast food.”
Well. That is…true. French toast is his favorite breakfast food, it has been since he was six, which is probably how Technoblade knows that. It’s terrible how the fact he would remember Tommy’s favorite breakfast food makes his heart swell. He tries to stamp the feeling down but the fire only spreads, eating the forest that is his heart alive. He can’t find it in himself to douse the disaster with water, and he sits quietly as the flames spread and spread.
“Fine,” Phil says from the doorway agreeably, “we can have French toast.”
With that he leaves the room and heads to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Tommy’s throat still burns a little but he tries to push the hacking fits of coughs down. He knows if he didn’t, his family would make a big deal of it, he’s not even that sick. Okay yes, Tommy’s head feels like someone bashed it in with a hammer, he feels the urge to sneeze every five minutes, and apparently according to Techno he ‘definitely has a fever’. Whatever, he’s fine. He doesn’t need their honey sweet tea or their condolences or cuddles. He’s a big man, he knows how to take care of himself (not that any of that feels real or solid anyway). He’s gotten sick before, it’s fine. It’s fine.
Even as Tommy repeats this mantra in his head he feels bile rising in his throat. He pushes down, down, down but it keeps coming up.
“Tec’no,” he slurs, breathlessly, “gon’ th’w up.” technoblade reacts immediately, not even taking Tommy out of his lap as he reaches over the side of the bed and pulls up a large metal bowl. Great, apparently they were already babying him by expecting something like this.
Tommy doesn’t have any more time to dwell on this however, because as soon as the bowl is in front of him he’s doubling over and retching. Acid cuts at his throat as he vomits, the smell filling his nose putrid and quickly filling the air. He barfs into the bowl again and again, nausea racking his body and flooding his senses, he tries to stop, to close his mouth, but the waves of vomit just keep coming. Tommy keeps his eyes squeezed shut, knowing the sight of the bowl’s contents would be enough to ensure he keeps throwing up for some time.
After a while it stops abruptly, leaving Tommy coughing and hacking, sending nasty bits of barf flying into the bowl. He gasps for air when the coughs subside and hunches the bowl so he can spit the chunks of vomit lining his throat and mouth into the bowl.
“You done?” Techno asks, raising an eyebrow, and Tommy simply nods weakly, falling back onto the man’s chest and groaning. He hands Tommy a towel and the blond gratefully accepts it, wiping the bile spittle around his mouth away and wrinkling his nose at the smell of the room.
“I vote we leave,” Wilbur says, raising his hand. “This room is now disgusting.”
Techno snorts, swatting his arm lightly, but looks at Tommy and asks, “that good with you, runt?” There’s something about that expression, about Techno’s eyes that looks genuinely concerned about him. It makes Tommy ache with a new sense of heartbreak. It leaves him wanting and wanting and wanting. Wanting for anything, for everything. For whatever Techno has to give him.
He doesn’t voice any of this, all he can do is nod again, faintly registering Techno and Wilbur’s voices and the feeling of being lifted into strong arms and cradled like a baby.
“--dump it Wil, I’ve got him.”
“--no! Disgusting…fine.”
Tommy feels a hand brush his face as he falls into a state of half-consciousness, leaning into it tiredly. He is carried to the couch and then set down there, where he thinks he’ll be able to rest for a while. That hope is soon shattered though, as someone kneels in front of the couch and urges his lips open, pouring a thick, honey tasting potion down his mouth. The liquid is sticky, clinging to Tommy’s throat and replacing the acidic aftertaste with something almost sickeningly sweet.
“There you are, Toms. Sorry, I’m sure that can’t taste very good,” a voice–Wibur’s, he realizes–soothes him, stroking a loose hair out of his face. He brings the glass mouth of the potion bottle away and Tommy almost closes his mouth, but then there is another in its pace and he’s downing a second potion. This one runs straight past his throat instead of settling there like the first and has no immediate effects but it tastes like ginger and lemons which makes Tommy sigh in relief.
Finally Wibur’s hand brings the potion bottle away and then there is nothing at Tommy’s lips, so he finally closes them. He can hear Wilbur stand up and walk away, probably to the kitchen where Techno and Phil are already discussing things he can’t quite hear. Somehow, Tommy doesn’t have the strength to attempt eavesdropping, not after the potions he’s just downed. Damn, whatever they were they must have been strong, because Tommy can’t feel a thing. He tries wiggling his fingers but that exhausts him even more. He can feel fatigue pulling him under, trying to take him but he struggles in its grasp, fighting to keep his eyes open.
He loses.
Notes:
whooooooooo
so that was something. can we classify this as dark sbi? technically they just drugged him so....maybe???
also the end bit that was meant to be potions to settle tommy's throat and stomach but there was definitely something less safe to knock him out if you know what I mean.
let me know if you like the fluff or the angst better and CHECK OUT MY TUMBLR AYOOOOO @lewelyy !!1!!11!
yes I am plugging my tumblr get lewelyyed. its fairly new and I mainly reblog stuff and share fic recs but hey? if you wanna hear me scream into the void pop on over.
that's all for now, if you saw a typo no u didnt <3 leave a comment if you want, I reply to all of them and they make my day!
Chapter 4: awake enough
Summary:
Technoblade sees him coming because, well, of course he does. The pink-haired man is leaning up against a tree, his ax behind him. He raises an eyebrow.
“Theseus.” Not a greeting but more…an acknowledgement.
He gulps, bracing himself. “Techno. You’re, um, here.”
“And so are you.”
“Yup,” Tommy agrees, not sure what to say. “Um, sorry.”
----
OR tommy and techno moment (pretty much what this whole fic has been lol)
Notes:
WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
we are at the end folks, hurrah! this chapter is possibly the shortest which I'm unhappy about but I couldn't really think of anything else to write so, eh. I hope you have enjoyed this fic so far, it has been a fun project!
also this is kind of off topic but I recently reread "Safe and Warm" by @SilverWing15 and it will probably go on my next fic rec list (on tumblr, go check out my tumblr! @lewelyy) but I also wanted to recommend it here because it is ACTUALLY SO GOOD.
so yeah, go read that, after you read this last chapter of course lol.
ALSO I DID NOT MEAN TO MAKE THIS BEDROCK BROS CENTRIC IT JUST HAPPENED 😭
no major TWs I can think of for this chap, just lighthearted talk/mention of drugs, no specific drugs named.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tommy wakes up slowly, like trying to come up for air in a thick pool of honey. Most of his limbs feel relatively sore, but nothing too bad, and his throat and stomach feel practically better. He tries to call what happened before he fell asleep. He remembers laying in bed with Techno and his cheeks flush, embarrassing. His nose wrinkles as he recalls throwing up and being carried to the couch and..
He shoots up, his legs still sprawled awkwardly on the couch. Across from him Phil and Wilbur are playing some kind of card game, with Phil spread out on the couch and Wilbur cross legged on the floor, resting his head on Phil’s legs slightly.
“Did you fucking drug me, Wilbur?” Tommy shrieks, making both men turn to look at him.
Wilbur immediately scoffs indignity and Phil chuckles. “I absolutely did not.”
“Well, you kinda did, mate.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Philza Minecraft,” the blond says, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his head on the couch arm before turning to Wilbur and saying, “you are a bitch.”
Phil throws his head back and laughs at the two, while Wilbur squawks, putting his cards down and folding his arms. “It was just potions , Tommy.”
“Technically potions have drugs in them,” Phil points out, to which Tommy nods solemnly in agreement.
“Wha– medicinal drugs. That’s different,” he explains, throwing his arms out in front of him in frustration.
Tommy shakes his head disapprovingly. “You would say that, wouldn’t you?”
Wilbur groans rubbing at his eyes with his hands exasperatingly. Phil chuckles from the couch, having set his cards down by now too. Tommy turns his head, looking around the room but sees no sign of the fourth family member.
“Hey, where’s Techno?” he asks, brows furrowing. Wilbur purses his lips and Phil winces. “What? Where is he?” Tommy tries again.
“Techno…you know how he is, mate,” Phil offers, giving Tommy an unhelpful, sympathetic smile, “always out there, doing stuff.” He swings his arms, trying for a laugh. He doesn’t get one. “He thought we might need some more firewood.”
Tommy frowns. “Oh.”
It finally dawns on him. Technoblade always had been the best at getting his instincts under control. He has come to his senses and now he’ll be out of the house for as long as Tommy is in it. The boy can’t help but feel a little disappointed but, good things never exactly last for him anyways. He tries not to think of the way only earlier today Techno had held Tommy in his arms and assured him he was his. Tries not to think of the way it felt so real, so true, despite all odds.
He fails.
“Do you know where he went?” Tommy asks, already getting up and moving to the door, slipping on boots and one of Wilbur’s jackets.
Phil’s frown deepens. “Probably just the nearest forest, but Tommy it might be best to leave Techno alone for now. Just give him some time?”
Tommy doesn’t listen, he finishes buttoning the coat and opens the door, parting with a simple, “thanks, Phil!” as he trudges out into the snow.
The man is probably right, it would be better, smarter to leave Techno alone, but Tommy never claimed to be smart. There is a part of him that worries what will happen if he finds the older though. He’s chopping wood so he has an axe on hand, what if he decides he’s still mad at Tommy for betraying him, it would be easy to just– shhhnkk– chop his head clean off.
He shudders, trying to repress the thought. The forest is closer than he thought and he soon arrives at it, making out the distant thunk-thunk-thunk of an ax blade against wood. Tommy tries not to wonder if the hatchet would make the same noise against his head. Or maybe his back? No, don’t think about that. Think happy thoughts. Happy, non-ax related thoughts.
Technoblade sees him coming because, well, of course he does. The pink-haired man is leaning up against a tree, his ax behind him. He raises an eyebrow.
“Theseus.” Not a greeting but more…an acknowledgement.
He gulps, bracing himself. “Techno. You’re, um, here.”
“And so are you.”
“Yup,” Tommy agrees, not sure what to say. “Um, sorry.”
Techno snorts, lifting himself off the tree and leveling Tommy with an unimpressed stare. “For?”
“I don’t know,” the blond tries, before wincing and doubling back, “I mean, I do know, I definitely know, and you do too, so. Yeah. Sorry.”
“I know? I’m not sure if I do, Theseus,” he says, lips quirking up slightly.
Tommy groans, bringing his hands to his face. “Are you really gonna make me say it, asshole?” Silence. Then, “fine. I will. I’m sorry, not for choosing Tubbo over you, I honestly don’t regret that,” something flashes in Techno’s eyes, “but I am sorry that you got hurt, I didn’t want that. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted that and I’m sure I never will.”
There is a moment of silence in the woods. Snow surrounds them, the trees a canopy above, and they stand, Tommy feels as though a deep chasm separates them. He holds his breath, waiting, and a light flurry of snow begins to fall. Spruce trees shield them from the world outside, from hurt and anger and war. Here they are alone. Here they are raw, vulnerable.
Techno takes a chance, stepping forward and extending a hand.
“Come on, let’s go home.”
It’s not perfect, but it's something. Everything, to Tommy. It’s not perfect, but Tommy doesn’t know if anything could ever be perfect again. If he could ever look at his brothers without a hint of fear. Maybe, maybe not.
He stares at the hand offered, it trembles slightly. Technoblade is uncertain. He doesn’t know if Tommy will take the hand or not, if he will let the man try. That alone is enough to finish Tommy’s decision, to wrap it neat and pretty with a bow. He takes the hand, squeezing it firmly. Techno squeezes back and that, that is perfect. That is a promise, an oath, an ‘I love you’,? Maybe not. Not now at least, but someday. Someday, if they try.
Tommy wants them to try.
(Later, three brothers and their father sit huddled around a fireplace, reading and laughing and sipping tea. They aren’t perfect, in fact they are far from that, but they are enough. They know that they are enough.
They know that they have been through it. They have fought and hurt and been hurt. They have yelled and screamed and stabbed and slashed but now they are home. They are home and they are enough.
The fact that they can joke and poke fun and sit together, by the fire, that is proof that they are trying. That they will try.
And that is enough. Enough for them, and enough for Tommy.)
Notes:
WE DID IT FOLKS.
I so hope you liked this fic Ioved writing it. Leave a comment if you feel so inclined, I read and reply to them all!
I have a tumblr if you want to check that out>> @lewelyy
if you are interested, here are some plans I have for future fics and things to looks out for:)
-of course more of the remedies series, that is coming I promise
-I'd love to expand on my prison!AU possibly even give it a chapter fic of its own?
-more AUs and ideas I haven't talked about, and lots of projects I have in sitting in my google docs.
-expanding on the google docs thing, possible a scrapbin? although most of the things in my docs I plan to finish.okayyy that's all, thank you for coming along for the ride! :))
loverlai on Chapter 1 Wed 25 May 2022 07:27AM UTC
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lewelyy on Chapter 1 Wed 25 May 2022 03:41PM UTC
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chippednailpolish on Chapter 2 Wed 25 May 2022 09:42PM UTC
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lewelyy on Chapter 2 Wed 25 May 2022 10:09PM UTC
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downsideup on Chapter 4 Sun 29 May 2022 08:38PM UTC
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lewelyy on Chapter 4 Sun 29 May 2022 10:55PM UTC
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Jadaluvr1 on Chapter 4 Tue 31 May 2022 04:55AM UTC
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lewelyy on Chapter 4 Tue 31 May 2022 07:25PM UTC
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nowherebound on Chapter 4 Fri 10 Jun 2022 02:08PM UTC
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lewelyy on Chapter 4 Fri 10 Jun 2022 04:09PM UTC
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