Archive of Our Own ^beta

A solemn and lonely quiet lay thick over the house, a blanket of tension weaved only by the insults and conflict between the two brothers. The sky hung heavy with dark clouds threatening rain. Petrichor wafted in through the open door, wood swaying with the wind. Only the warmth of the kitchen light pierced its way through the darkness, echoing off the hallway walls and begging for people to enter its warmth. Everything sat still, like the eerie silence in a dilapidated building, ash still hot with pent-up anger as rafters hung barren, ceiling and roofs having long burned away. The aftermath of the fire was always the worst. 

Wilbur loved arguments as they happened. In the moment, he relished in the adrenaline and a sense of sick accomplishment that bloomed as he eloquently phrased insults. He understood how to twist words and frame accusations so that his words wrapped vines around throats, disallowing room for disagreement. However, outside of his school's debate team and the occasional Socratic seminar in his English class, this skill was unfortunately destructive when left unchecked. 

Wilbur couldn't even recall what the argument was about anymore. Though, you could hardly call it an argument, as his pseudo-twin brother stood amidst the heat, silent. He didn’t mean to cross a line. They stood there for several seconds, hit by a shockwave after Wilbur’s words. Techno’s hands balled into fists, and Wilbur could only stand and watch in horror as his brother broke apart in front of him. Technoblade avoided Wilbur's gaze, tears shimmering above his waterline in the kitchen light. 

Techno rushed out of the house, leaving the door open, swaying with each passing breeze. It was an occurrence he'd known well a year ago when he was a flight risk, his backpack always containing his life's belongings, never bothering to unpack. His mother had taught him better, that he should shut the door to keep the moths from flying in and rattling against the kitchen lights, but there was little reason to care anymore. She wouldn't be there to lecture him. 

Phil returned to a quiet home, only filled by the soft sniffles and sobs from a space inside Wilbur’s closet. Eventually, after several minutes of coaxing, Phil finally got his son to make his way down to the dinner table.

Phil sighed as he and Wilbur ate in silence, his heart heavy with the hope that his sons would make up soon. Family dinners were truly lonely with two empty chairs at a table for four.

--

Okay. Techno didn't mean to get emotionally attached to a kitten at the park. It just sort of happened!

Conflict with Wilbur always left behind a trail of Techno's avoidance and unsettling quiet. They both had their strengths when it came to fights. Wilbur could concoct insults that would make even the bravest individual reconsider their life choices, whereas Techno’s fists typically spoke what he needed to convey. However, Techno would never set a hand on his family. While Wilbur spared no second thought in taking advantage of that, saying whatever it was that he knew would hurt his adopted brother the most, Techno was left taking the brunt of it all. This, following the emotional wreckage of their mother's funeral, caused more damage than any argument they'd ever had.  

So obviously, he'd stormed out of the house. 

Running off to a nearby park, Techno spent a while in silence, watching the sunset as he swayed back and forth on a swing. Wilbur’s words rang in his head over and over. "Maybe if you'd stuck around like, you promised, she actually would've lived! Maybe we shouldn't have kept you around with how fucking broken you are". The words sunk into his chest and burned. Unlike other times, Techno no longer had a mother next to him to assure him that Wilbur lied. All he had with him was the biting cold, a furious adoptive brother, and the scars that resided mentally and physically from past homes. And despite Wilbur’s immediate regret, the damage had already been dealt; the fire had already burned.

Long after dark, Techno finally stood from the swing, staring up at the stars. Making his way through the labyrinth of metal bars and colorful platforms, he slowly began his journey home. To prolong his journey, he made up challenges to pass through on the playground. He ascended rock walls, traversed swaying bridges rattling as he crossed (it took three steps), and hopped along (plastic) stepping stones floating atop a lake of lava (woodchips). Then, as he passed a cave (covered slide), he heard something quiet and distant. A soft meow, crying for help. Techno listened carefully for the next cry, then, disregarding his imagination, jumped onto the wood, following the noise to the entrance of the slide.

Techno felt a pang in his chest.

Alone sat a tiny kitten, shivering in the biting cold air. Its fur lay matted and messy. Sympathizing with the poor thing, and also wanting to delay his return home, Techno gingerly approached it. 

The cat eyed him wearily for a few moments as it cried before Techno awkwardly shushed it, his hand slowly making its way toward the cat. He paused for a second, waiting for the cat’s reaction. It only sat still and watched wearily, so Techno continued. He found his hand scratching the temples of its tiny head. The kitten stopped crying, its fearful meowing turning somewhat comfortable. 

"I'm Technoblade," he said gently. He didn't know what compelled him to introduce himself to a cat, but he did it anyways. 

The cat seemed to meow in response, nudging his head into the warmth of Techno’s palm. 

Techno slowly moved his arms around the kitten, beginning to pick it up. It seemed he was moving too quickly, however, because once his hands made it around the kitten's torso, it flinched away. Claws scraped the plastic as it tried to run up the slide, sure to scar the surface for any unsuspecting child wearing shorts later to realize. Techno’s hands stilled in the air, fingers unsure where to put themselves as the scene unfolded.

It was almost cartoonish, Techno thought, watching as the cat made it halfway up before seemingly realizing that it was climbing a slide before skidding back and crashing into Techno's chest. The two looked at each other, stunned. With eyes as wide as saucers, Techno set the cat down as quickly as he could and rushed to sit behind the slide, where the cat wouldn’t be able to see him.

Trying his best to process the situation, Techno slumped against a pole on the playground, shifting so all his weight balanced between the pole and the woodchips beneath his shoes. That poor cat, he thought. That scared little cat who had no one to rely on was thrown into a frenzy and frightened to death! Techno caught himself between checking back in on the cat or leaving without so much as a glance. He wanted to make sure the kitten was okay, to make sure the interaction didn’t leave it too frazzled. But maybe it was best if he left, leaving the kitten before Techno could cause any further damage. After all, Wilbur tended to be correct, and saying Techno was broken could’ve been nothing but a harsh reality that he’d blocked out with reassuring lies from his mother.

He stood up with a sigh, the woodchips beneath his foot crunching as he began to face away from the play structure. He didn’t feel right leaving without so much as an acknowledgment, however, so he whispered a barely audible goodbye before beginning his trek. 

Before he got too far, however, Techno heard a sound again. The soft mewl that had brought him to the slide before called him back to the plastic entrance. There, the cat waited for him, eyes glimmering up at him with curiosity. Techno didn’t move, terrified of scaring the little thing again. 

But it didn't seem to be scared. 

Instead, the kitten seemed to take initiative in walking towards Techno until they were nearly nose-to-nose. The cat meowed again. It sat down, seemingly waiting for something. Both seemed apprehensive as to what to do.

About five minutes into this silent and mildly awkward staring contest, the kitten made another noise, a sort of complaint of boredom. Figures that a small cat would have a small attention span. Pressing forward, the cat nudged its head into Techno’s cheek and let out an annoyed shriek, prompting him to do something. 

“Okay, okay!” Techno defended, “What do you want from me?”

He got a meow in response.

“I literally don’t know what that means.” He squinted at the cat as if glaring would make him suddenly understand the cat noises. 

Another series of meows followed. The cat seemed more confident than a few meows ago.

“What do you want from me?” Techno desperately asked. 

The cat leaned its head toward his shoulder and lightly tugged on his shirt. 

“Woah, woah! You don’t know how much this shirt cost me, kid,” Techno responded, lightly tugging the cat off of his shirt. “It could be expensive for all you know.” While his hands were still active, the kitten took the opportunity to nuzzle its head under Techno’s palm. 

“Oh.” It suddenly made more sense.

Together, they sat under the stars, Techno softly scratching the kitten’s dirt-ridden head as it slowly crawled into his lap over the course of an hour. They seemed to have arrived at somewhat of a consensus. Techno let out a secret and soft smile, meant only for the little kitten. The warmth in his chest and the pool of sunshine formed around the two confirmed that beautiful and melancholy voice that protested Wilbur’s accusations.

He knew Kristin would never have lied to him. He wasn’t broken. At this moment, he was right where he needed to be. 

+++

Techno left every night before dinner, instead deciding to stop by the grocery store to buy a package of cat food and sometimes a snack for himself. It became routine. Despite the empty chairs at dinner and Techno’s swiftly draining bank account, no one mentioned his disappearance every night. Phil only gave concerned glances and Wilbur sniffed indignantly with every shut door. Even as he was staying for longer and longer periods before returning home, his father and brother stayed quiet. Eventually, he began leaving before lunch and returning at dark. 

In his hours at home, Techno invested all of his time into researching how to take care of cats. Having no parent to assign him homework anymore, Techno found himself pouring all the energy he’d formerly put into homeschool work towards this kitten. As Wilbur refused to look at his bedroom door, Techno sat blasting music in his headphones, writing notes in his little notebook.

It wasn't hard for them to avoid each other, as Wilbur still went to school in person. 

As time passed, the space Techno took up in Wilbur's day was left quiet and empty. Where the two used to silently sit in Wilbur’s room, enjoying each other’s company as they each did their individual tasks, Wilbur now sat alone, turning up his 2 am Spotify playlist until Phil said he could hear it through the walls despite Wilbur wearing headphones. Where Techno used to make tea late at night when neither of the two could sleep, Wilbur sat by himself, only greeted by the cold kitchen counter and the perpetual ticking of a clock. And where Techno would check on Wilbur most nights in the moments prefacing sleep, a routine established long before Techno’s adoption papers went through, Wilbur fell asleep with all his thoughts throughout the day pent up in his head.

Despite the heartache, Wilbur would be damned before he knocked on Techno's door. If Techno ignored him, Wilbur would try to ignore him even harder! No matter how redundant and petty it seemed. 

This routine continued on for much longer than anyone in the house thought it would.

A few weeks after the brothers’ initial argument, Phil waited on the porch of their house to catch Techno before he left.

“Techno, I know things are tough right now, but please talk things out with Wilbur,” Phil pleaded. “I’m worried about you two. And I just want to make sure you’re eating okay. You haven’t been showing up to dinner.” He didn’t voice the underlying “I need you two right now” that permeated every thought and action since the funeral. 

“I can't bear to think about him right now, Phil,” Techno said, firmly and unrelenting. Phil's lips turned down upon hearing his name. It'd been ages since he'd been called anything but dad by his boys. “I can’t even imagine actually talking to him. Maybe- Maybe later.” As much as he loved his father, he needed to leave. He knew Phil's intentions were genuine and well-meaning, so he resolved to make it up to him later for brushing him off. 

So the conversation concluded with a slammed front door and son breezing passed his father with wild abandon. Despite the guilt in his chest, Techno pushed it down just as he had with Wilbur. 

He relaxed his shoulders, walking to where he left the cat each day with a mouse cat toy in hand, the price tag still hanging off the tail. They had a sort of interdependence. Techno needed the cat for comfort and to focus on something other than the mess at home, and the kitten needed Technoblade for food and head pats. It seemed a perfect cycle where they relished in each other’s company all day. 

Instead of finding the cat as he usually did, however, a very unusual young boy sat at the base of the slide instead. Hearing the steps behind him, the boy turned around, a toothy grin slathered across his face. He looked around twelve or thirteen years old. Techno couldn’t believe his eyes! Not only was a boy where Techno’s cat usually sat, but this boy had strikingly similar eyes to his kitten friend! He was also wearing cat ears, for some reason. He also was covering his human ears, somehow. The cat ears atop his head were also a very similar color to his cat? He tried not to read into it too much. 

“Technoblade! Big man!” The boy cried. “It’s me!”

Technoblade assumed this kid was pranking him. Perhaps this child had seen Techno talking to the cat and decided to mess with him. 

Techno said, “What are you, some sort of cosplayer?”

“You know me!” He responded indignantly. “Ever seen a shapeshifter before, prick?”

“What?"

A moment of silence passed between the two for a moment. A slight breeze blew by. You could practically hear crickets.

“Well, I am one, you know,” he continued. “A shapeshifter!” He quickly added, “not a cosplayer.”

“Impossible,” Techno immediately shot back. “Shapeshifters don’t exist, kid.”

The kid puffed in frustration, motioning to his ears. “Then how would you explain these, bitch? They wiggle n' shit!" He proceeded to demonstrate the ear wiggling. 

Techno responded plainly, “Cosplays get more and more impressive with each passing day.”

“I’m not a fucking cosplayer!” The kid jutted his head out towards Techno in a challenge. “Go on then. Touch them. See if they’re real!”

“Fine!” Techno reached out his hand and grabbed one of the boy’s ears, giving it a hardy tug. The ear was, in fact, not coming off. If this kid were a cosplayer, he must’ve used some strong glue.

The kid yelped, scooting himself away. “Oi! Careful, dickhead! That hurt!” He shouted angrily. Techno, looking at the boy in front of him, the kid’s ears twitching as he cradled his hands around the tugged ear. “You better believe me now! I don’t let just anyone tug on my ears like that! Fuckin’ prick.”

“There’s no way those things are real,” Techno insisted. “What did you use to stick those on? Gorilla glue? Duct tape?”

The kid huffed. “I told you! They’re real!”

“Can I- Show me your ears, again,” Techno resolved. What adhesive could possibly be so strong? Techno needed to find out.

“Fine,” the kid responded exasperatedly. He leaned his head forward again. “Just be careful, prick.”

“I will be, I will be!” 

Techno gently brought a hand to the kid’s fuzzy ears, hardly touching them. He looked back up at the boy, waiting for a second approval. The kid rolled his eyes and nodded. Moving his hand closer, Techno noticed how incredibly untidy the fur was. Even the hair on his head seemed blanketed in grease, dirt matted into the strands. He grimaced, feeling the desire to wash his hands suddenly. This kid hadn't showered in ages! 

He understood being lonely, but pretending to be a shapeshifter seemed a bit drastic. And where did he even put the cat? If anything, that would be Techno’s main concern, but he couldn’t do anything about it until the kid beat it. Distracted from figuring out what adhesive the kid used, Techno sat contemplating wiping his hand on his pants.

“You got a problem, bitch?” The kid asked. 

Techno deadpanned, “When was the last time you bathed, kid?”

The kid scoffed, extremely offended. “You can't ask people that, you dick! And considering you see me here every day, I think you know the answer is ‘not recently’.” He tutted disapprovingly. “Now, are you done looking? Do you believe me yet?” 

“No.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” The kid sat up. He pointed up at his ears. “Watch them carefully.”

“I don’t understand-”

“Just do it!” 

Techno crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. “I feel like I’ve humored you enough as is, kid. I-” Suddenly, he heard a bunch of cracking, like bones retracting and setting into place, a disgusting and visceral noise. He squinted and shielded his eyes with the back of his eyes, cringing and the sound. 

Once the silence had settled, Techno slowly opened his eyes and drew his hand away. In front of him, the kid sat, cat ears no longer perched atop his head. Instead, a pair of alarmingly human ears resided on the sides of his face. The kid tugged on one of his ears and leaned it towards Techno.

“See? Completely gone!” The kid held his hands open, then going to flip his empty pockets inside-out to emphasize he didn’t take the ears off. “And stop calling me kid, bitch. The name’s Tommy.”

Looking at Techno, Tommy had to suppress the chortle rising from his chest at Techno’s expression. Jaw dropped, eyes as wide as saucers.

Another wave of silence fell over the pair as Tommy let Techno process. Techno turned his head to the squeaky mouse toy he’d bought hours before. “Did you see that? I'm not the only one?”

Tommy burst into laughter “And you thought I was crazy!” Tommy cackled, “You are literally talking to an inanimate object! What a dumbass!!” 

As Tommy’s giggles calmed down, Techno slowly began to come to terms with the situation. The sun was nowhere near setting. He had plenty of time before he should be home. Plenty of time to take this kid around town as a human. Plenty of time to get reacquainted with the kitten, but as a kid this time. Oh god. Plenty of time to ask many, many, MANY questions.

“You uh,” Techno started, “You still want this?” He held out the toy mouse.

“Are you joking?” Tommy asked, suddenly offended. He squinted his eyes and furrowed his brows.

Techno answered hesitantly, “Uh. Yes?”

Tommy glared at the teen in front of him. “The answer is obviously yes, Technoblade. Of fuckin’ course I do," he said, miffed. He snatched the toy out of Techno's hands and put it in his pocket.

+++

Their first mission of the day is to go to the local Mcdonald's. It’d obviously been a while since Tommy had eaten human food, and despite the cat food being enough to get away with for a few weeks, Tommy had said, human food lasted him longer. So with a dusty kid in tow, Techno entered the Mcdonald's and stood in line behind two teens around his age. Before he could allow himself to recognize them, however, he turned to Tommy.

“So,” Techno said, turning to face the kid, “What do you want to eat?” 

He found Tommy pressing his face to the glass of the Happy Meal toy display, where a bunch of pokemon toys lay. His breath fogged up the glass as one of the workers busing tables made a displeased sound at the action. Techno looked amusedly on at the kid.

“Get me one of these babies,” Tommy demanded. He turned to look at Techno, softly adding “please.”

“Sounds good to me, Tommy.” Techno smiled, resisting the urge to ruffle blonde curls.

As the pair in front of them finished their order, Techno grabbed Tommy to drag him over to the counter. Before they could make it a few steps, however–

“Oh my god, Techno?” 

“Uh. UH." In a panic, he stammered out, looking side to side in a frenzy. "Who’s Technoblade?”

The nearly bald boy only chortled. "C'mon Techno, I can recognize that dye job anywhere!"

"Wait, your hair isn't actually pink?" Tommy asked, shocked. "I'm feeling kind of betrayed right now, to be honest."

"Tommy, not now!" Techno said through gritted teeth. He turned to the people in front of him, his demeanor relaxed but reluctant. "Hey, Niki. Hi Jack," he relented. "How've you two been?"

It'd felt like forever since Techno had seen either of them. The two of them being best friends with Wilbur meant they were over every weekend. They dragged Techno downstairs to join plenty of movie nights with Wilbur's friends. Niki and Techno even began dyeing their hair together every few months after he started staying at the Craft's home. 

His roots must be growing out by now, right? He probably should get that sorted. 

"We're doing well," Niki said, "We were just talking about you! We haven't spoken to you or Wilbur in a while. We were thinking about visiting you!"

Wait, they hadn’t spoken to Wilbur?

"Who's the kid?" Jack asked, suddenly. He motioned to Tommy, who suddenly had his face pressed to the glass of the McDonald's toy case again, now blowing air so his cheeks puffed out as his lips pressed to the glass. Techno sighed and lightly yanked the back of Tommy's shirt to face the duo. He hoped that Tommy could distract them long enough to figure out why Techno took a random muddy kid to a McDonald's after weeks of his family's radio silence. 

Stumbling into place, the kid struck a confident superhero pose. "I'm Tommy! Biggest man alive."

Niki beamed with amusement, going to grab her and Jack's milkshakes from the counter. "Oh really, now? Bigger than even Technoblade?"

"Of course I'm bigger than him! He's my bitch!!" The teens poorly suppressed a grin at the statement, considering the significant height difference.

"Don't push it, Tommy," Techno interjected, wrapping his arms around the kid's shoulder and resting his chin on Tommy's head. He pushed the knowledge of the greasy, unwashed hair out of his mind as he did this.

Tommy grumbled and slumped in Techno's arms. "Sorry, Techno."

Niki giggled. "Maybe Techno's just as big as you, then." Tommy started squirming around at that, trying playfully to get Techno's arms off. Techno didn't relent, his arms secure as if they were for safety on a rollercoaster. "Seems like you two are close." 

Something like that.

"Where'd the kid come from, anyways?" asked Jack. Ah. The dreaded question. "Or– I guess– what have you been up to, man? We've missed you guys."

Techno didn't want to think about his family, but it seemed he had no choice. It was time to lie to his brother's best friends. "Uh, we're fostering Tommy. Phil figured it might be nice to have a younger kid in the house to lighten it up a little after-" Techno swallowed thickly, "After her funeral." 

Tommy stopped squirming. He stiffened. 

"We were at the park and Tommy decided to roll around in the dirt, so he's a bit of a mess right now." Techno punctuated this by messing up Tommy's hair, a small cloud of dirt expelling from the strands. A pinecone and some pine needles fell to the floor. As if to spite him, the dirt flew into the teen's nose, causing him to begin coughing and for Tommy to make his escape. 

Tommy didn't go, far of course. More subdued than before, he tucked himself behind Techno, leaning on the older’s back instead of carrying his own weight. 

"I guess that makes sense?" Jack said. It did not make sense. It really did not. 

Though Technoblade supposed, Tommy's shapeshifting into a cat was less believable.

"Anyways, man. We have to go, but keep in touch! We've been worried about you guys. Answer your texts, and tell Wilbur to answer them, too." Wil hadn't been answering his texts? At least they won't be able to ask Wilbur about Tommy, Techno resolved. 

"Bye Tommy! Lovely to meet you! Bye Techno!" Niki said, smiling as she and Jack walked towards the exit, milkshakes in hand. "Let's get those roots fixed soon! Mine are growing out too, so it'd be nice if we could redye it together!"

After the door shut behind the two, Tommy wrapped his arms around Techno, squeezing him as hard as he could. The teen felt his back crack and all oxygen leave his airways. Despite the pain and potential suffocation, he accepted it, leaning back onto the kid in reciprocation. He gently laid his hands on top of Tommy’s. Wilbur had always been a physical affection fanatic, so while avoiding him like the plague, Techno missed it a little. He relished in it for a moment, shutting his eyes and breathing. Well, breathing as much as he could.

"You didn't tell me," Tommy mumbled into the fabric. "You didn't tell me you were hurting." He nudged his head further into Techno’s back.

"Shh, not now, Tommy, " Techno responded, rubbing a thumb over the top of Tommy’s hand. "We'll talk about it later." 

As long as Techno could avoid the subject, he would at any cost. 

"Okay." 

But knowing Tommy, it couldn't be that long until they talked about it.

Their moment was soon interrupted by a soft gurgle. Techno opened his eyes and leaned back to see Tommy's eyes widen and cheeks puff out in embarrassment. He cracked a smile at the kid. 

"Let's grab you some food, kid. Happy meal?"

The cashier looked unendingly grateful that they would no longer have to watch such private conversations unfold in the McDonald's lobby. 

+++

As nice as Tommy clinging to Techno was, by evening they were both covered in the dirt that was previously only covering Tommy. At least Tommy looked marginally less muddy, having diffused some of it onto Techno's beloved fencing sweatshirt. 

"Okay, so you're definitely going to shower now," Techno said, beginning to lead them toward his house. He knew that Wilbur would be locked in his room and Phil would be at work, so they could probably get in and out without being substantially noticed. 

"What?!" Tommy protested, "Technoblade, I hate to break it to you, but I am quite content with licking myself for cleanliness. Why must I conform to your silly little human tradition? I am only half human!"

"That's actually horrific." 

"Okay, well. You're just a big dickhead, aren't you?"

"At least I'm not four years old."

"Hey! I'm like thirteen. Thank you very much!"

"Bruh, what do you mean 'like' thirteen? It's either yes or no, Tommy," Techno teased. 

"I've had a very complicated life. Now open the door, dickhead."

Techno unlocked the door to his house, quietly assessing the situation inside. It seemed quiet. He listened for footsteps but heard none. He only heard the distant sound of Midwestern U.S. emo music bouncing off the corridors from Wilbur's room. 

They were safe to enter. 

Tommy stared around the house in awe. It was almost a page out of an IKEA catalog. From pottery Kristin made to pictures she painted, it all perfectly accented every shadow and curve of the house. She made the house picture-perfect.

To Techno, the stagnant decor felt more taunting some days, unmoving. He'd almost thought it were more normal if ghosts moved objects around, but nothing ever moved. No one had the stomach to move it.

Proof people lived in the house fell to Wil's half-finished homework spread all over the kitchen counter. It showed in the fan still humming in the living room; in the packed grocery bags left on the kitchen counter to be unloaded; on the post-it notes holding reminders covering the fridge doors. 

Tommy drank it all in slowly, and Techno didn't rush him. 

They turned into a long hallway, walls adorned with family photos. Arranged in order by date, it was a timeline of sorts, split into sections by Kristin just months prior. It was a gallery of foster kids, faces of kids changing and shuffling beside a consistently aging Wilbur. A box of photos still sat on the floor, a thin layer of dust covering the glass of picture frames in the open box. She had left off putting up the pictures of when Techno first arrived, an emergency placement after Phil and Kristin had stopped officially fostering. 

Techno's breath hitched at the thought. Instead of letting the tears sting his eyes for long, he tugged Tommy down the hall so they didn't have to stare at it any longer. 

"Hey! I was looking at that!!" Tommy detested. 

Techno responded, "I think you can wait to look until you're not covered in dirt, or I might have to mop this whole hallway." Tommy pouted as Techno shoved him upstairs and into a bathroom, shutting the door. "Wait for a second. I'll be back with clothes."

As Techno walked to his room towards the end of the hall, the music grew louder with proximity. Passing Wilbur's door, he paused, listening for movement. He inhaled. Raising his hand to the door, he got ready to knock. He didn't know what he'd say, but he'd imagined stumbling out, "I know this is going to sound insane," and trying to figure out how the hell he was going to explain Tommy. Literally anything about Tommy. 

Techno heard the soft clacking of a keyboard and aggressive humming along to melodies. Wilbur only ever did this when he didn't want to talk, when speaking to him would ignite fires and inspire conflict for a day or two. He'd get far too involved in writing critical reviews on websites for places he'd never been. He'd always said it gave way to a sort of catharsis, making up horrible stories out of whatever information he scrounge out of the other reviews. Techno had snorted at that, but he knew better than to interrupt the process.

Techno exhaled, lowering his fist. He figured that the noise would be enough to hide Tommy's presence, so he continued on his way. 

He grabbed a plain shirt, an old sweater, and a pair of sweatpants. The sweater was well loved, the logo of an old fencing club worn from wear and age. The sweatpants went along to accompany them, with the same bland company logo. They would have to suffice, as they were the only clothes he had that might not drown the kid in fabric. Because the sweater hardly fit Techno anyways, he'd give it to the kid to keep. 

He soon returned to the bathroom, knocking before he entered. Tommy sat in front of the mirror, now a cat, using his reflection to spot dirt, licking himself to clean it off, and then looking back up at the mirror to start the cycle again. 

"Tommy." Blue eyes soon connected with his own. "What are you doing?" 

Tommy motioned to shower. 

"You are not only cleaning yourself with your tongue, Tommy." 

He meowed in disagreement. 

"Tommy." 

He hung his furry little head low in shame. 

"Tommy, c'mon." 

With one final meow, Tommy turned back. Techno gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tight as he listened to the crackling and shifting of bones.

"Fine, prick. I'll wash," Tommy said, quickly following up with, "But only if it's a bath and you stay here the whole time."

Techno opened one eye cautiously. Seeing the kid sitting atop the counter, human legs swinging back and forth. 

Christ, he didn't know if he'd ever get used to that. 

"Heh?" 

"Those are my demands! Otherwise, I will stay one with the dirt!" He insisted. 

"We'll have to run the bath a few times to get all that dirt, you realize that, right?" Tommy nodded stubbornly, his ears burning red with embarrassment. "This would be so much faster if you just showered, yes?" Another nod. "And that this is kind of weird?" Tommy averted his eyes to the wall, picking at his nail beds. 

"I'm not gonna undress, you prick. And don't judge my process! If you don't agree, we can go back to the park," Tommy persisted. He added, "It's not like I want to be covered in dirt all the time! It's not worth it to be sprayed to death with water." 

That's a bit dramatic, Techno thought, but he let it go. "So why do you want me here?" He asked.

"I dunno. Moral support, I guess," Tommy said, honestly. But something told Techno that he wasn't telling the whole truth.

Techno sighed, looking at the boy in front of him. They stared each other down for a second, Techno's face unreadable.  

"Fine," He resolved. He didn't ignore the relief that washed over the kid. 

So Techno ended up sitting on the lip of the bathtub as Tommy began to submerge himself in the water, fully clothed. 

Techno grimaced as the water tinged brown on impact. He knew they'd have to soak and repeat, but the kid was grimier than he'd imagined. 

Tommy entered the bath very slowly, breathing controlled and hesitant. He'd managed to step both legs in before stopping. "This is close enough, right?" he said through gritted teeth. 

"Tommy," Technoblade replied with a warning. "You promised."

"Fine! I'm going, I'm going!" 

He took a big, deep breath. He shut his eyes tight, squeezing them until all he could see was darkness and the spots of different colors dancing around in his vision. With one fell swoop, Tommy dropped down and sat in the water, clinging to his knees. Water exploded everywhere, imitating those dancing fountains in Las Vegas, or perhaps a firework exploding. 

The water settled and Tommy relaxed into it. It felt warm and calm rather than frigid and panicked as he'd been accustomed to. It eased the memories that resurfaced a little bit. He was alright.  

Technoblade, now soaked from head to toe in dirty water, was not as alright. 

"Tommy," he began, the most horrified expression resting across his face. "Why did you-"

"Shh, Techno. Shh," Tommy whispered, eyes still shut tight, chin resting between his knees. "Let me have this." His breathing was easier than before. "This is the first time," he said. He didn't finish the thought out loud. 

Techno squinted, but let it go. He didn't appreciate how serious Tommy was acting.  

Techno voiced with concern, "What do you mean by that?" 

"Later," he hummed in response. 

Techno begrudgingly accepted the answer. "Later," he confirmed. "We will talk about this later. " Despite his many questions, Techno let Tommy have his moment. 

It took Tommy a few minutes to open his eyes. Once he worked himself up to it, a smile of relief washed over his face. 

"It's real, Techno!" he breathed with excitement. "I'm here and I'm taking a bath!!" He emphasized the statement by making a small splash in the water with his hand. 

Techno nodded. "That you are, Tommy. That you are."

"Now help me get the sticks out of my hair!!" Tommy said, endlessly enthusiastic, ignoring the way Techno's face contorted in regret. 

"Fine," he said, standing up. He opened a drawer, grabbing a brush and a comb. It was no coincidence that the two he grabbed were both Wilbur's. "But don't complain if I tug at your hair a little. You have your process, and I have mine."

Tommy pouted but leaned his head over when Techno returned to the tub. 

Silence overcame them as Techno made his way through sections of blonde hair, the only noise being Wilbur's early 2000s indie rock bands from down the hall and an occasional indignant cry from Tommy after a particularly painful tug. A pile of debris began on the lip of the bath, mostly wet leaves and sticks, accompanied by a singular dead grasshopper. Tommy closed his eyes again, his head lulling to the side every once in a while before Techno gently pushed him and reminded him to stay awake. 

It was peaceful. 

Tommy was finally safe.  

+++

While Techno had left Tommy to change, Techno sorted through movies downstairs they might be able to watch. After his search came up empty, he sighed, going to check back upstairs.

He almost didn't catch the noise because of the blaring music. It made it brow crease and a pang of concern spike in his chest. A familiar noise, repeating in his head in tandem with flashes of porcelain.

He knocked on the bathroom door. The retching didn't stop. "Tommy?"

After a few moments of silence, the toilet flushed. The sink turned on and off before Tommy opened the door. "Ate too much."

+++

"So you're homeless, right?" Techno deadpanned. 

"What the fuck?" Tommy whined in response. 

After Tommy changed into Techno's old clothes, the two of them made their way downstairs and into the living room after meticulously scouting the house for any signs of Phil or Wilbur. Despite various Super spy moves Tommy did, each corner turned out empty. So the two of them had collapsed into the couch, Tommy drowsy after a calm and warm series of baths, and Techno exhausted after having created a wicked stick collection out of the mess in Tommy's hair. 

Techno had turned on the television, some silly kids' cartoon droning on that neither were particularly listening to. They had each claimed one side of the couch. Tommy draped over the armrest, his head hanging over the side. Techno, on the other end, had fallen face first, burying his head into a pile of pillows. Every few minutes, Tommy would kick Techno's legs in a tired grab for attention. Techno would respond with a muffled grunt into feathers and a feeble kick back. The television would drone on for a while, and Tommy would kick him again. 

About twenty kicks in, Techno decided to break the cycle with the bluntest question imaginable, turning his head so his words were clear. 

"Well, are you?" 

"That's quite a personal question there, Mr. Blade!!" Tommy said. "Why should I tell you the dark depths of my history?"

"Uh. I mean, you don't really have to," Techno said. He planted his face back into the pillows. "I wanted to ask if you'd like to stay here," he added through cotton and feathers. 

Tommy perked up, peeking over his back to stare at Techno. "What did you say?" he demanded. He scrambled to sit properly, falling off the couch and onto the floor with an  umph . He brushed it off, rushing to sit near Techno's head. He shook Techno's shoulder. "Do not be pranking me, Techno! It would not be poggers, Technoblade Craft!"

Techno turned to him, blinking. "How do you know my last name?"

"Now's not the time!!! Tell me what you said!"

"I asked if you wanted to stay here," Techno said. "With me."

Tommy dramatically collapsed back onto the floor. His limbs flailed as he rocked a bit before settling on the ground, like a bear rug. Techno chuckled, sitting himself on the couch to look at the kid. 

"Tell me I'm not dreaming, Techno! Pinch me!" Tommy wailed. 

"Okay." Techno shifted forward. 

Tommy scrambled away, shrieking. "I didn't mean it!! Techno, Techno, please spare me. I didn't-" He waved his arms, trying to ward the teen away. 

Techno smiled fondly as he shook his head and laughed. "I'm not going to pinch you, Tommy." 

"Good. Good," Tommy said, sitting up. "I was worried for a second."

"I would never merely pinch you," he said, a gleam in his eyes. Tommy stiffened. "I'd need to beat you up!" Techno launched off the couch, lightly tackling Tommy back onto the floor. He lightly punched Tommy a few times, voicing dumb onomatopoeias as he went along. "Bam! Pow! Kablam!"

"No!" Tommy squealed. "You bastard!" 

"Your time to fall has arrived, Theseus! You are doomed!" Techno playfully shouted through light punches. 

"What kind of name is that you fuckin nerd?!" This was not the correct response, he soon realized. 

"You will regret that!" As one final blow, Techno combined both his fists, raising his arms high into the sky. "I am not a nerd!" he declared, swinging his arms to bonk Tommy lightly on the head. 

"No!" Tommy exclaimed, going still. "I'm… finished… " He went limp. 

It was quiet for a moment. 

In a coincidence of perfect timing, the cartoon they'd long forgotten about began playing solemn violin music. 

They look at each other for a second before bursting into a flurry of giggles. The two laughed with their whole chests, to the point both started hacking and gasping for air. Tommy banged his fist on the floor and Techno ran his hand through his hair and pushed it out of his face. For the first time in months, warmth filled the living room. Kristin's grin on the walls glowed ever brighter. 

The two laughed for a long time, falling back onto the couch on their respective sides. This time, however, they sat facing each other, slouching on the armrests. 

"Did you mean it?" Tommy asked, hopeful. "Can I stay here? Because I think we both know I don't really have anywhere else."

"Of course, I meant it, Tommy." Techno reached over to ruffle Tommy's hair. He leaned into it as a soft twinkle gleaming in his eyes. "I'd give you the world if I could."

And with that, Tommy inched closer to Techno's side. "You're like my big brother. Right?" He'd never had one of those.

Techno grinned. "If that's what you want, Tommy," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world despite the fact they only officially met today. "Then, of course, we're brothers." Tommy took that as permission to slide himself under Techno's arm and rest there. Somehow, despite the fact the kid could turn into a cat, Tommy made the most sense out of anything that'd happened in the past few months. 

The way he and Tommy fit into a rhythm, Tommy causing chaos and Techno pretending to hate feeding into it. The way a smile from one immediately lit up the grin of another. The way Tommy could trust Techno to be there for him and comfort him. The way Tommy fit right under his arm, protected from the pain of the world for a moment. Like a puzzle, they fit together. It made sense. Brothers. 

Kristin's death didn't make sense. She was the kindest person Techno knew. She would take Techno on walks to the park and would always have snacks available for him. She was patient and never forced him to do anything he didn't want to. She ruffled his hair and let him grow it out. She sang to him and calmed him down through panic attacks, braiding his hair and tugging on it to ground him to the present. She helped Wilbur and Techno talk through their disagreements if they needed someone. She let him stay home and taught him herself rather than sending him to school, because she saw how bright he was despite his trouble in school. 

Kristin advocated for Techno's adoption. Out of all the foster kids that had passed through the Craft house, she chose Techno. No matter how many fights he started or how far he let his grades slip, she had seen how he was hurting. She saw how he loved so deeply. She decided that she needed him in her life. She wanted Techno to be her son.

And all things considered, she was healthy. She always remembered to take vitamins and get outside. She always took her medication on time and made sure everyone else did as well. She kept herself active, jogging and dancing around the house and inviting her boys to do the same, taking their hands and waltzing them up and down the corridors as jovial music played throughout the halls. 

Which is why the accident shocked them. The glue that had once held them together now deteriorated with every breath. No matter how much Techno rationalized it, it didn't make sense. 

Her face turned pale and sickly. Her grin turned into pressed thin lips and creased brows; Her singing and dancing became whispered apologies and weak grabs for her husband's arm. She became dull and doll-like, her eyes glossy and distant. 

He'd never forget how Phil and Wilbur clung to him one morning at the foot of Kristin's hospital bed as she slept; how Phil kissed his hair and whispered a pained, "Please watch over her while we're gone." Wilbur had squeezed his hand, nodding an agreement into Techno's shoulder before burying his face further into Techno's sweater. Techno blinked back tears and wrapped an arm around his brother, grabbing Phil's hand and clutching it to his chest. Phil let his other arm rest over Wil's shoulder. 

They stayed that way until Phil had to leave for work and Wilbur had to go to class. 

The next time he saw them, he'd already long said goodbye to his mother. As much as she'd asked him to leave, to not watch her at her lowest, he kept his promise. Having accepted it, she squeezed his hand lightly, with all the fervor she could muster up, and smiled as she drifted away. No matter how much he wanted to beg her to stay, he knew she deserved better than living in a painful state of purgatory. 

Techno, despite craving someone's touch, another reassuring squeeze, couldn't bear to reach out to his father and twin. He could only think about how they didn't know. They hadn't been there to watch her pass.

"Techno?" Tommy prompted the boy out of his thoughts, nudging his elbow into his brother's side. "You alright, big man?"  

Techno held Tommy tighter, shoving his nose into his hair. It barely made its way out of his lips, the quiet admission that he had locked inside his chest. "I miss her," he said. He opened his mouth to say more, but the words didn't translate into syllables. "I really- I just-" Despite the hours he'd spent contemplating and missing her, wishing she'd come back, he couldn't say it all out loud. He let out a choked, "Fuck-" before Tommy nudged him again. 

"You don't have to say anything," Tommy said. "There's always later."

Techno swallows hard before nodding, shutting his eyes tight. He settled into the warmth, letting his drowsiness finally win. 

Like many of their difficult conversations, they put a pin in it for later. 

+++++

Soup Interlude

+++++

Tommy spent the afternoon as a cat. He'd stowed away under a bed, floating between naps and swiping at the mouse toy Techno had given him. There was already a hole in that mouse-fuck's eye– and rightfully so, since that prick had the audacity to look at him with a stare as blank as black concrete in Minecraft. Techno had at least put some fairy lights under the mattress so that it wasn't dark. Tommy had a good five minutes of fun turning them on and off, but he soon got tired of it. 

Techno had gone off to his fencing practice or whatever– that dickhead!– leaving Tommy to his own devices. 

He peeked his head out of the side of the bed, the bed skirt lumped over him as he stared into the Great Beyond…. 

The "Great Beyond" being the Craft's guest room, of course. 

The room itself held very few items. Aside from a dresser and a bed, the room felt barren. It looked more like a college dormitory than a bedroom, but it’d suffice. To spice it up, Techno had shaken his head and grabbed a random family portrait off the wall, sticking it atop one of the counters. The walls remained white and barren. A few pillows sat near the white comforter. 

After their Brother Bonding Moment™ on the couch, Techno had carted Tommy off to stay here. They had a brief conversation regarding when they should tell Wilbur and Phil that another kid was staying in their house, but Tommy had shoved it off with a hardy, "I'M NOT READY!!!". 

Techno responded with a sigh, "Make sure we tell them together."

So now Tommy was bored. Not simply regular boredom that normal people would feel. He felt  bored  bored. Like he was going to cause  problems  bored. 

He made his way out of the room, creeping quietly and softly, on the lookout for anything to solve the agonizing issue.

Soon, he caught a whiff. Something smelled brilliant in the distance, a scent so powerful and fine that he might collapse then and there!! He had to find it!

Throwing caution to the wind (or in this case, the AC probably), Tommy began sprinting down the hallway, speed of light, like the Flash, thousands of miles per hour, just fuckin zooming. 

Until he skirted to a stop. 

There, he faced his arch nemesis in kitten form… stairs! 

He turned around sadly, beginning to trot back to the guest room where he left the door cracked open, perfectly kitten sized. 

With his little tiny cat body, getting down was easy enough, but going up was an entirely different story. If he was going to do this, he knew he might get caught. And so early on, too? Blasphemy. 

As he made it halfway down the hall, the scent found him again. He took a big inhale and suddenly he'd tossed himself down the stairs, flying to meet whatever could possibly be the source. 

Of course, halfway down the stairs, he collided with the stairs, proceeding to roll down the remaining half. He was fine, but he could not reverse the absolute ruckus already created. 

"Techno," Phil called from a nearby room. "Was that you?" Tommy froze. "Are you okay?"

Tommy suddenly went back to quietly tiptoeing around. 

Unfortunately for him– he realized, taking a sniff of the air– the room the shout came from was also the room where the smell originated. 

He debated whether or not it was worth it to find the smell. Was he ready to interact with complete strangers just to find that savory and delicious and glorious and amazing and–

He meowed an, "Aw, fuck it," before he began approaching the room. 

Upon entry, he found it was a kitchen! Cozy with a hue of orange, the kitchen felt safe. As if a sunbeam plucked out of the sky, the room was warm with the scent of spices. Even the floor felt warm, the wooden floor clean and shiny, as the stove top crackled and the pot boiled. 

Upon further observation, Tommy found that Phil was making soup. Licking his lips, he knew he had to get some. 

He began by getting as far away as possible, stowing his little cat body in the living room. Then, he moved a plate on the coffee table, pushing it so half of it hung off the table. 

Then, he pounced, launching himself onto the plate. He tried to use it as a springboard but unfortunately forgot that it was a plate and tumbled to the ground with it as it shattered. 

He not-so-smoothly barrel rolled away, then stumbled to the kitchen door. 

"Hello?" Phil said, rushing out of the kitchen. 

Tommy took the chance to hop in, quickly shifting into human form. He took the spoon Phil used to stir the spoon and had a good sip.

Ow!! Fuck!! Hot, hot, hot!!!

He took another, blowing on it this time. 

Mmm… soup. Delicious. Warm. Amazing. 

"How the fuck did this break?" Tommy heard from the living room.

He went back for another scoop.

"I'll get a broom," he heard another voice say. 

OH GOD OH FUCK THERE'S TWO OF THEM. 

Before he could even react, Wilbur had swung open the door, standing and staring at Tommy, who was still mid-sip of the soup ladle. 

"Uh– DAD!!" Wilbur closed the door and ran to the living room. 

Tommy finished his soup swig and shifted, disappearing right as Wilbur returned with Phil in tow. 

"I don't see anyone here, Wil," Phil said. "Are you getting enough sleep?" Haha. Tommy Innit doesn't get caught. Invincible. God. 

"Phil! I swear! He was standing right here!"

Tommy grinned maliciously. Or at least as maliciously as a kitten could possibly grin. He carefully slipped away from the kitchen. 

Arriving at the stairs once again, he does a quick swivel of the head. 

He picks up a paw, putting it out to measure it to the step. 

Deciding it was too tall, he carefully traced steps backward. He glared at the stairs, fire in his eyes, black bars over the top and bottom like it's a movie screen. Action music started playing– HE WAS GONNA JUMP !!! 

Breathing out fire, his steps pounded with the power of an army, his paws emulating the trots of a thousand horses. 

He bent his knees and leaped for the sky. It was almost as if he'd grown wings, flapping all the way to the heavens. 

But of course, in line with Technoblade calling him Theseus, Tommy fell. 

He face-planted on the first step. 

He quickly looked around before shifting and walking up the stairs with a sigh. He hid in the guest room for a while, trying to calm his excessively beating heart. 

+++

part ii

Or: three times the crafts trauma dumped on Tommy + one time the dumping was mutual

OR: Tommy accidentally plays detective and somehow gathers all he needs to nudge the family in the right direction by making everyone fall in love with him as a cat

+++

Tommy, despite his defeat with the stairs, was satisfied with his soup expedition. Unfortunately, he quickly grew bored again. With mischief in his eyes, he remembered how incredibly freaked out Wilbur was by their prior encounter. Wilbur's expression was nearly stupid enough to make Tommy release the grudge against him from arguing with Technoblade. 

Looking around the hallway, he found a table and a few picture frames sitting beneath a window. He hopped into the table, the base wobbling but luckily not breaking. Through the window, he peered down at the garden below. Phil walked into the greenhouse, leaving the door open behind him.

Tommy moved to look at the pictures on the table. Both of them are of Wilbur and Techno. In the first one, Wilbur's arms were wrapped around Techno's shoulders, hanging off of him loosely. The other photo had Techno holding a birthday cake, a grin plastered. 

He nodded a greeting to the happy family photos before continuing. 

He quietly slips into Wilbur's room, tucking himself away on the top shelf of the closet and waiting for him to come back, ready to pounce with his tiny cat body. 

He waited for a bit. He was gonna fucking GET Wilbur. He was gonna get SO PRANKED. 

… 

He sat down. 

…. Nothing. 

He waited longer. 

…. 

Suddenly he was asleep. But hey! That wasn't his fault for being impatient. He was just a little guy!!! A little tiny cat guy!!

As he slept, his brain filled with sweet dreams. Little sardines floated around and spoke to him. Some were kinder than others, of course, but overall they were alright. He had many conversations with them, ranging from the discourse between the ever-so complicated interdependent relationship between fish and cats, more specifically fish and cats’ stomachs, to the commonalities between the pet fish and the pet cat. Tommy laughed it off. 

Bright colors flashed in and out as he danced with the fish to a song called “Muffin” by some dickhead sardine. He sang on a stage shaped like a tuna can. At first, everyone looked at the stage with mild concern, but accepted it as soon as the fish sang “I've been thinkin' about you, sardine”, and then every fish started cheering and clapping. 

Halfway through the song, unfortunately, the clam club had become silent. Fish!BBH’s mic screeched with feedback before the power completely shut off. All lights in the building now relied on red emergency lights. He vaguely heard a door open and slam shut, everything shaking with the velocity it closed. 

And then everything was dark. He heard a growl from elsewhere, pained whines ringing through his ears. The kitty let out a whimper, tracing careful steps backward. He could nearly hear chains rattling and– fuck– It was almost as if he was back in– 

Tommy woke up to the sound of hands pounding on a desk, frustrated shouting, and the closet door opening. He scrambled towards the far end of the shelf, tucking himself behind a pile of clothes. 

His heart raced for a moment, his vision and head slightly fuzzed from the adrenaline. He clawed lightly at a pile of fabric beneath him and stuck his nose into it. If he tried hard enough, he could pick out Techno’s scent. He began to regulate his lungs again.

It was only a nightmare, he told himself.

He took a few more moments to chill before picking his head back up and striding towards the other side of the shelf.

He took a peek off the edge to see what dared defy his beauty sleep, but– hey. Hey, that was Wilbur! A really emotionally distressed Wilbur!

Tommy grimaced. Wilbur heaved with every dry sob, each breath taken with anguish heavy on his chest. His fist hit the wall, targeting a target drawn on the wall in faded marker. With the target came a slight dent in the wall, beaten into drywall throughout the years, but never enough to quite break into the insulation. His heart thrummed in a drumbeat so loud that Tommy could nearly feel it vibrating the whole house.

God, it wasn't pretty. And despite his disdain for the twins' argument, Tommy couldn't help but remember his own breakdowns, sitting alone in closed spaces, trying to fucking breathe. It wasn't the same, and Wilbur's anger seemed scary, but he couldn't sit there. And so, despite his newly found nervousness, he leaped. 

He hopped down, shelf by shelf until he found the only way to get down safely was to hop on Wilbur's head. And of course, because Tommy's a good guy, he would never jump on a guy's head like that while he's in such distress– of course he would, who are we kidding? 

"Ow! Fucking hell–?" Wilbur yelped in the middle of a silent scream. Tommy didn't give himself space to get nervous that angry Wilbur might hate animals. He swiftly crawled into his lap and nudged his little head under Wilbur's hand, forcing him to start petting. 

Luckily, Wilbur's face softened and gave into the petting with an airy laugh. "Where did you come from, little guy?"

Tommy meowed in response. He was actually saying, "The top shelf, dickhead."

"I'm just going to pretend like I know what that meant," Wilbur said, brushing his face against the fur. Tommy stiffened from the near-stranger's proximity, but he eased when he sniffed the air and smelled a bit of Techno's deodorant on the man. They both used Old Spice, it seemed! Tommy felt safer. 

A few moments were spent this way: Tommy distracting Wilbur with something to do, and Wilbur watching the cat in his lap relax and unwind from all the little scratches. The only light came through cracks in the closet door, the only semblance of the outside world behind the wood. 

Tommy was soon drifting off again, nodding away into dreamland. Before he could, however, Wilbur's words caught him in a net. 

"Thank you," he said. "I know you don't know what I'm saying, but I'm going to talk anyway. I hope that's okay with you." Wilbur paused. Tommy didn't answer, only nuzzling his head into open palms. Wilbur exhaled softly. "I've had quite the rough day, my friend. I don't even know where you–?" He trailed off, looking up.

Tommy glanced up and blinked.

Wilbur's eyebrows furrowed.

Then he nodded.

"Anyways. So many things have piled up recently. It's hard to think it'll all work out." Another pause. Or paws. Haha. Wait sorry, not the time.

Tommy meows. He doesn't know why or what it means, but he felt like Wilbur needed to know he listened. 

"Yeah. I've felt really bad lately." He turned his head to face the ceiling. "I'm being dramatic, aren't I, kitty?" 

This, Tommy disagreed with slightly. Having feelings was not dramatic! To express this, he opened his mouth and chomped (lightly and lovingly). 

"FUCK– Christ, kitty! A warning next time?" Wilbur gritted his teeth. "I think you drew blood–?" 

Tommy giggled and tapped his paw on Wilbur's leg a few times in amusement. Wilbur froze. Tommy stopped cold, eyes wide as he slowly put his paw back onto black jeans.

Uh fuck, too human. Move on!! Move on!!!!

Tommy slid under Wilbur's hand again, hoping it would prompt him away from the fact a cat was listening to him, and understanding him, and making gestures that matched human expression.

"I'm going to hope I imagined that." Wilbur scooted a knee to rest his chin on it, still scratching Tommy with one hand. He huffed. "I don't know why I've been acting like this, kitty. I'm so mean, and I don't know if Techno'll forgive me. He hasn't spoken to me in weeks, but I don't want to go up to him. I'll say something mean again." Tommy meowed. Wilbur added softly, "And he doesn't deserve that."

The night of Kristin's death, Techno sat on the hospital waiting chairs, the hallways cruel, cold, and empty. It was late at night. One of the lights wouldn't stop flickering, even though he'd seen someone try and fix the light a few times now. He hung his head in shame as if he were a child scolded by a parent. He shifted his shoes around every once in a while, his fists clasped and squeezing together in random intervals. His tears had burned paths into his skin, like indents in the Earth etched from lava. 

Wilbur and Phil sped down the hallway, spotting Techno on the bench alone. The two looked disheveled and worried, Wilbur's hair more unruly than usual, and the bags under Phil's eyes increasingly noticeable. Wilbur bit at his cheek, a frown seemingly permanent on his face. 

"I didn't watch," Techno blurted out before anyone could say anything else. He didn't look up, but he understood their confusion. "I didn't see her go," he elaborated. "But she's– she's gone."

Whatever prompted him to lie was lost on him. It was certainly not the most tactful Techno could've been, but it would have to do. 

Wilbur's heart dropped. Everything blurred together, and he felt his chest tearing itself apart. Hands, shaking, he did the only thing he knew how to do in difficult situations: lash out. 

"You were supposed to look after her!" Wilbur cried. He meant it to come off angrily, but his delivery turned more broken, his voice cracking. "You promised dad."

Techno's shoulders raised as if he was taking a hit. "I know."

Wilbur cradled him closer at the memory. "I guess I was mad," he started, "Mad that she might've been lonely when she–" He took a breath. "But I guess I'm also sort of… Glad that he wasn't there for that." A meow of acknowledgment. Maybe Wilbur wasn't so bad after all. "I'm so glad you're here, little guy. Usually, Techno grabs his weighted blanket and helps me out, but. Well." Tommy beamed. As a cat, he'd singlehandedly fixed this whole family thing. He was practically a natural!! Wilbur leaned his face closer, using each thumb to scratch lightly into the kitten's temples, smiling when it incited a tiny purr. "I'm gonna ask dad if we can keep you!"

Oh fuck. 

Oh shit. 

Tommy was supposed to have this conversation with Techno. They were supposed to tell the family together. Tommyinnit was a lot of things, but he was NOT ready to face this alone.

With another good chomp, Wilbur cried out. In this moment of vulnerability, Tommy wiggled his way through a crack in the closet door and shifted as soon as possible. He opened the bedroom door with his beautiful opposable thumbs (thank goodness for thumbs!!). 

He heard the closet door slide behind him, hearing a gasp before he quickly shut the door and went back into Super Epic Cat Mode. 

As he slipped into the guest room for the final time, he hears a faint conversation in the background. 

"Dad, I think our house is haunted!"

Tommy grinned. 

+++

The next few days passed by pretty slowly. That was Tommy's fault, he supposed. After all, he'd put Wilbur on the lookout for both the cat and the ghost of some random blonde boy, but Tommy tried to think of it more as a YouTube 24-Hour Challenge video where he was staying in the guest room without getting caught. 

Techno hung out with him most of the time but hadn't done any of the lessons Kristin had prepared so many months ago. Phil was not too pleased with this, so Techno spent most of the time at home with Tommy glued to his laptop and doing assignments from a teacher that would never grade them. Phil said he'd go through them at some point, but Techno would likely enroll in an online school soon anyways.

A few days passed and Techno had to go to fencing AGAIN! Fucking nerd. But whatever. Tommy could accept that, but he accepted it slightly less when he realized he would be left to his own devices again. He knew boredom was inevitable. 

He stayed, chilling under the bed with his LEDs for about five minutes before deciding he needed his freedom. Fuck Wilbur! That fuck can believe there's a ghost all he wants!! 

Tommy shifted and opened the door, slipping out as a cat once again. 

On the hunt for Phil, he scoured the lands for old men. He sniffed the air, trying to catch a whiff of decrepit and decaying (and by that, he meant black coffee, no creamer, only the bitterness of needing to wake up and do taxes). 

He took the opportunity to explore the many nooks and crannies of the house, avoiding the room in the hall blasting what seemed to be political British rock music, of course. He knew better than to play with a lot of fire. A spark would be enough for him!

He crawled along the fireplace's mantel, his tail dragging gently against each vase and piece of decoration lining it. Halfway through walking through it, however, he came across a picture frame. He stopped to look at it. 

It didn't seem taken too long ago. Wilbur and Techno looked bright and casual, grins adorning their faces. The twins sat on either side of the frame, creating a sort of symmetry in the silhouette. Techno had a bandaid stretched over his nose, but it didn't seem to bother him as his mouth seemed to be moving, telling a joke with his arms crossed. Wilbur's hair was as messy as always– it was untameable, but not as untameable as Tommy's (the kitten took pride in this) – as his eyebrows arched in surprise at whatever Techno was saying. Phil's face crinkled into a smile, pure and unadulterated and kind, an arm wrapped around Wilbur's shoulders lovingly. And then there was Kristin. Kristin rested in the center of the frame, surrounded by her family. Phil's head lightly leaned against her own as she laughed. She held her hands to her chest. i

Tommy paused for a moment, letting himself process the picture. They all looked so happy and carefree. Thinking of how Technology vehemently avoided his family, of how horribly everything was affecting Wilbur, Tommy gave a solid cat sigh, his tail flicking side to side. 

He persisted. 

He traversed outside after doing his rounds downstairs, trodding down a brick pathway and away from the house. 

Suddenly… he heard it… the tune of "Sweet Caroline"????– The humming of what could only be a man in his thirties!!! Coming right from the greenhouse!!!

The greenhouse was warm. Warm in that safe, loving way that he felt every time he crawled into Techno's lap, smelling pine and Old Spice. Warm in a way he'd tasted warm and fresh apple pies while looking at the family portraits hanging on the walls and sitting on the mantel. Warm in a way that planted envy in his chest, plants he'd never known could grow inside a ribcage before. Warm in a way he knew he'd cling on to, teeth clamped and white-knuckled as he held it so, so tightly. 

The little kitten prowled behind the tomatoes, watching Phil grab a pair of snippy things and walk right for him. He dashed to the other side of the row of tomatoes, watching as Phil started cutting off some of the lower branches on the other side. 

He sat for a moment, listening to the humming, enjoying the warmth of the greenhouse, watching Phil beam a little as he pruned the tomatoes. 

For the first time since encountering Techno, it was the first time Tommy had ever seen one of the family members seem effortlessly happy. With Techno and Wilbur, something always seemed to hang over them and bother them, whereas Phil was right here the whole time, a beacon of light in his own right. He seemed unbothered, untethered to any worry or stress. Right now it was only Phil and his tomatoes. 

Burdened by the memory of his own family, Tommy felt a pang in his chest. He was almost afraid of how unfamiliar the smiles were; how alien the peace seemed; how abnormal the sunlight felt. 

Against his better judgment, Tommy approached him. He wanted some of Phil's warmth. He was going to take some because no one else was here to do the same.

Giving a coy meow, the kitten hopped to the other side of the tomato bed. Phil turned his head in surprise, his eyes sparkling upon seeing the kitten. It was almost unnerving how unbothered he seemed. 

"Hi, mate!" Phil said with a fondness as though he was encountering an old friend. "I'm pruning the tomatoes if you want to stick around." He didn't approach Tommy. He merely left the offer open. 

Tommy meowed a yes. Not that Phil could tell what he was saying. 

"That's great! Feel free to do whatever you'd like."

Or maybe he could tell??

No, Phil was probably one of those millennials who pretended to talk to animals. Fucking prick. Bet he's a goddamn Hufflepuff, too. 

Tommy took the invitation anyway. The moment Phil crouched down, Tommy knew what he must do.

Tommy needed to test a boundary. 

Timing it so that he could use Phil's arm as a ramp, he climbed up onto the man's shoulder, perching himself there as if he were a little bird.

Phil's eyes widened in surprise but didn't move to shove the kitten off. The man chortled and snipped off another branch. "You sneaky little shit."

"Do you know why I'm snipping these bits off?" he asked Tommy. Tommy had to stop himself from shaking his head. He didn't want another Wilbur incident. Instead, Tommy nudged his head against Phil's neck, earning another grin. How the man could possibly smile more is a goddamn miracle. Especially smelling of soil and tomatoes. "Better airflow helps the tomatoes grow, so I'm making sure they have enough." Another snip. "This way, they'll grow tall and strong, and we'll get a lot of tomatoes this year!"

They stayed for a moment more, Tommy perched on Phil's shoulder. It seemed almost dreamlike, this man's kindness. The way he lightly warned Tommy before standing up, using a hand to secure him lightly. Tommy hooked onto every word the man said, listening carefully to every plant fact, learning more about farms and gardens than he'd ever known in his life. 

Now it was Phil, his tomatoes, and Tommy. 

+++

"My wife and I wanted to own a farm," Phil said to the cat in front of him, nibbling on rice and cooked chicken he'd found in the freezer. "Before she died," he added with a melancholy gaze. He slid a sad smile back on his face, somehow managing a lightness to his words. 

In one afternoon, Phil already had all of Tommy's respect. Phil Craft, Only Man Ever (NOT CLICKBAIT). Phil has spoken to him with kindness and respect, even as a kitten. And when Tommy started digging at one of the plant beds earlier to try and catch a bug, Phil only lightheartedly reprimanded him with a "now what do you think you're doing?" and a light nudge away. 

Phil had taken Tommy inside the house to where they now sat. Phil rested on the couch, while Tommy ate his little heart away on the floor, still listening to every word Phil said.  

"We wanted to buy a house out in the countryside after we'd sent Wilbur and Tech off to college. We’d been planning it for years, but life happened, and before we knew it, all we’d saved up was going to medical bills. I don’t think the boys even knew about their mother’s dream of having a farm." Phil continued. "She passed away while Wil and I weren’t at the hospital." Phil paused, taking a breath and shutting his eyes. “Techno was there, though he didn’t watch.”

Tommy, now done with his little bowl of chicken and rice, licked his lips and hopped onto the couch, sitting next to him. Phil's hand made its way to Tommy's head, giving it a good scratch. Tommy leaned into it. 

"In a way, I'm glad Techno wasn't there when she died," Phil confessed. "I don't know how he would've handled that. Especially with how close he was with his mother. She was so strong and she– well, she wouldn't have wanted him to see that. And Techno can be… fragile. Even though he pretends to be strong all of the time."

Tommy meowed and pawed at his hand. If he was honest, he was only partly paying attention. Listen, he'd spent a lot of time listening to this family's trauma, okay? There was only so much he could withstand. He also knew simply being there with Phil was enough, because, despite the heavy topic, Phil's voice remained calm. Solemn, but not frantic. 

Phil chuckled sadly. "Sorry for spilling this all, mate. It's been a rough few weeks." He paused thoughtfully. “I just hope Tech’s eating okay. Sometimes he- Well, it’s not that I don't trust he’d tell me if he knew he needed something, but...” He trailed off.

Tommy meowed again, knowing it was what Phil would want to hear. He was correct, contentedness gentle on the man's face. God, he should be a therapist. He's good at this! So incredibly good at this. 

"Hm, I'll tell you a bit more about Kristin," Phil cooed. "Does that sound better, little one?" Tommy stretched his front legs out and yawned, dragging his face against the soft surface of the couch. Phil chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes.

"She was an amazing woman," he started. "She had the most wonderful, contagious laugh. Once, before we had Wil or Techno, when I was in the most boring and stressful meeting, she kept telling jokes out of the camera frame. My boss hadn't said anything, but his face didn't seem very approving of the distractions. No matter what, she always made me smile." Phil brought his hand behind Tommy's ear. God, being a cat was such a power move. "I really love her." The two drifted into silence, only filled by the gentle thrum of a kitten's purr. 

Phil switched on the television and brought up some Discovery channel show about digging for gold. Tommy eased into his side, beginning to doze off. 

"You know, you're surprisingly tame for a stray cat," Phil suddenly said. "Is your owner looking for you?"

Tommy huffed, only snuggling further into the couch. 

Then, he heard the front door handle twist. 

Shit, it's Technoblade. Tommy couldn't get caught breaking his own oath! He refused. He was the one who asked Techno not to mention anything yet! He wouldn't get caught!! It was a matter of principle!

That is to say, it was mostly a matter of not wanting to face his hypocrisy. 

Shaking the sleep out of his head (the little stars which were comically floating around his head jolted away), Tommy bolted out of the back door and passed the greenhouse, ignoring Phil's call to "wait a second, you little sh–". He climbed up the side of the wall, covered in vines of roses, avoiding as many thorns as he could before reaching an open window. The window, unfortunately, was also pouring out the sounds of "Paranoid Android" by Radiohead. 

Goddammit, he knew whose room this was. 

Peeking into the room, Wilbur seemed to be sulking in bed, his back turned so he was facing the wall. Which meant Tommy could use sneak in. 

Crawling over Wilbur's desk, Tommy dodged edgy poetry and different vinyls scattered around (he wrinkled his little cat nose in disdain when he heard Creep start to fade in from Wilbur's record player). He looked at Wilbur again, making sure he wasn't looking before quietly hopping onto the floor and shifting. He twisted the doorknob as subtly as he could. 

He heard Wilbur move behind him. 

Fuck's sake. 

"Oh my god, what the fuck."

Tommy had shut the door, shifted, and scampered off into the guest room before he could hear any more. 

Another mission success for Tommyinnit. 

Techno entered the room a short while later, bringing with him his laptop so he and Tommy could watch YouTube videos together. As the door swung shut, Tommy tried to suppress a mischievous and adrenaline-fuelled smirk as he heard a conversation down the hall. 

"Dad, I swear this house is haunted! I'm not making shit up I swear! You know I don't believe in ghosts, but–" the door shut. 

Total fucking success. 

+++

Despite being a cat all day, Tommy didn't want to shift back. He wanted to be small, fuzzy, and annoying, so that's exactly what he was. After taking a quick human form stretch break to crack his bones, by Techno's request of course (Tommy told him staying shifted too long makes it hard to shift back and forth), Tommy played around as a kitten, chasing Techno's hand and pawing at random dangling bits that floated around in the air. It didn't take long for Tommy to notice Techno's earrings. 

He made his way onto Techno's shoulder, ignoring his brother's protests and calling that "No, Tommy, I'm not a cat tree" or whatever. They both knew that hadn't been true since the first week they met. 

After climbing Mount Technoblade, Tommy began taking swings at the earring, clawing at them playfully. He ignored Techno's calls to be careful and bit one of the earrings. He tugged at it, excepting Techno's earlobe to cause some resistance. Instead, the earring slipped right off. 

Those fucks weren't even real!

Tommy shifted back into a human, toppling Techno to the bed, now perched on his stomach. He spat the gold out into his hand with a  blech . 

"Clip-ons?? I thought your family was rich!" Tommy complained. "I can't believe my tongue tasted poverty gold! I don't think I can't ever recover!!!"

Techno, rolling his eyes, shoved Tommy off of him and onto the floor. 

"I don't wear normal earrings, Tommy," Techno replied. He tucked his hair behind his ear, revealing his ear. He held his hand up to the cartilage and pointed out the tiny chunk missing. "I used to, but someone ripped it out."

"What?!" Tommy exclaimed. "Is this lore? Lore unbeknownst to me before?"

"I would get in a lot of fights at school before Kristin decided homeschooling was better for me," Techno explained. "But it's fine. I never got out of a fight worse than the other guy." He kept it short and sweet.

The boy cringed. "Yeesh, Technoblade. Was that supposed to be cool?" Tommy said. Techno shrugged. "No wonder you're a fencer. Only rich dickheads get into fights. Tories, the lot of you."

"Why are you talking about British political parties? We're literally in America."

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, a smile on his face and mouth open wide. 

Before the banter could continue, however, two voices outside of the door faded in from the end of the hall, moving closer.

"Wil, please. I'm just trying to help, but I can't help if you keep pushing me away!" Phil pleaded. "I need you to talk to me."

Time seemed to freeze. Looking over at his brother, Tommy found that Techno had become a statue in his seat, eyes glazing blankly at the door. He chewed on his lip as his chest began to rise in fall in quick succession. “Techno–” Tommy began.

"Hold on, Tommy," Techno whispered. He furrowed his brow into a frown. Tommy threaded his fingers into Techno's and squeezed reassurance. Techno shut his eyes. “It’ll be over soon.” Techno pulled Tommy into his chest and covered his ears, fingers still looped together. Fingers swam through soft blonde curls, the same soothing way a mother might put her child to sleep. If not for the circumstance, Tommy might’ve felt tempted by sleep. While the kid didn’t quite understand the situation, he recognized that this was normal for Techno. He had done this before.

“There’s nothing you can do for me,” Wilbur shouted (though to Tommy it sounded muffled through the layers of skin). “Leave me alone. Everyone hates me!”

“I don’t hate you, Wil. Nobody hates you! Please just–”

“I’m a failure without her,” his voice cracked. “We all know it! I still hate myself, my friends definitely do, and now Techno does too. He hates me, dad! He hates me!” There was a pause. “She’d know what to do.”

Phil paused. “Wilbur–”

"Stop trying to be her!" Wilbur practically screamed. "You'll never be her." 

Phil didn't respond. 

"Wait, dad. I didn't mean it." Wilbur said. But the damage had been done. 

Phil sighed. "I know, Wil."

"Dad, I-"

More sternly this time, he repeated. "I know."

Footsteps faded down the hall. There was silence for a moment. Tommy fiddled with Techno's fingers, staring intently into the darkness as if it was the most interesting void in the world. Techno, on the other hand, still curled over him, almost statue-like if it weren't for the hardly noticeable quiver in his shoulders. 

"FUCK!" Wilbur shouted. His door slammed. Techno tightened his arms around Tommy as the both of them flinched. 

They sat that way for several minutes before Tommy began to get concerned. 

He was sure Techno needed to process, but Techno wasn’t letting up or moving. The only evidence the teen was alive came down to the expansion and detracting of his lungs, and the desperation clinging to Tommy’s hand.

The kid slowly unwound himself from Techno’s arms, still linking their hands. He slipped a pillow into the gap he’d left, which Techno now began to squeeze the daylights out of.

Techno sat, face pale as snow, eyes shut tight, jaw clenched. Tommy squeezed his hand, trying to get his attention, to no avail. Looking frantically around the room, he found nothing of help. From his deep knowledge of the house in exploring it, though, Tommy remembered a quick fact from Wilbur. Tommy slipped his hand free, ignoring the pursed lips at the loss of contact. Techno's hands traversed to his hair, tangling themselves in pink. 

"I'll be back," Tommy whispered, quietly slipping out of the room. He eyed Wilbur's room with uneasiness as he passed it– an eerily silent room compared to usual– before quietly sliding into Techno's room. Tearing apart the neatly made bed, he soon found the weighted blanket foreshadowed by Wilbur Craft himself. With his weak little nerd arms, he set it on his shoulders and dragged it back to the guest room.

Tommy heaped the blanket on the bed with a heave, his arms now jelly-like. He placed the blanket on Techno's lap, moving the pillow to sit on top of it before planting himself behind the teen and draping his arms over his shoulders in a lazy hug. Techno seemed receptive, so Tommy settled there. 

"You're gonna go bald, prick," Tommy muttered, unwinding hair from Techno's fingers. He slipped a hair tie off of Techno's wrist and tied a very messy and haphazard ponytail to get it out of the way. 

He wrapped his arms around Techno's shoulders again, giving him a good squeeze. 

"You're good, Techno," he said. "You're okay."

It took several minutes of whispered reassurances and swaying back and forth gently, but the shaking stopped. Techno's thumbs found themselves on Tommy's forearms, tracing lines back and forth as if they were pacing. The room fell quiet, the only sound being the slowing of heavy breaths floating in the air.

"Sorry," Techno grunted. It was clear he wanted to say more, but none of it came naturally. Tommy head-butted the teen's back. 

"Don't say sorry."

Techno hummed. "Okay, Tommy." He leaned his head back and took a deep breath, his ponytail spilling onto Tommy's face. The tween scrunched his nose and made a " blech"  as he spat out dry pink hair. Techno snorted in response. "Get good, loser."

"I literally sat with you through a panic attack twenty seconds ago.  You  get good!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Imagine having a panic attack LMAO. Couldn't be me," Techno said, leaning his head further back to bonk Tommy's skull lightly. It was an action of endearment. 

The shockwave it sent back into the smaller’s cranium said otherwise.

"OW! Jesus fuck, Techno."

Perhaps it was too much endearment. 

They sat there for a moment. Tommy's eyelids began to hang heavy in his skull, his breath slowing despite the uncomfortable position in which he sat.

"Thank you, for the record," Techno began. His head still leaned on Tommy's. "You helped. You didn't have to. You  shouldn't  have to. You're just a kid."

Tommy considered the word for a second. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Techno hummed in confusion. 

"Calling me kid," Tommy clarified. "Makes me feel dumb."

"Whoever told you that kids are dumb was wrong," Techno said, turning his head to glance at his little brother. "You're probably the smartest kid I've met. I can be here for you, no strings attached. You don't owe me anything. You're allowed to be a kid."

Tommy considered this for a moment, twisting his face up in thought. “If I’m smart, that means you should listen to me. Always. Right?”

“Well-”

“No!” He insisted. “I’m always right! You said so!”

“When did I say that?”

Tommy lightly shoved Techno off him, scooting to sit next to him instead. He grabbed both of Techno’s shoulders, turning him to make eye contact. “If I say you have to do something, you have to do it, right?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Well, if you don’t agree I’m going to think you hate me.”

Techno sighed. He knew Tommy was bluffing, but staring straight into his eyes let a sort of guilt set in that only needy little siblings could accomplish. 

“Ugh, fine. What do you want?”

A grin blossomed across Tommy’s face. “I want you to eat dinner with your family tomorrow night.”

Techno scrunched up his nose. “Tommy,” he trailed off.

“Just hear me out, okay!” He took a hand off Techno’s shoulder and used it to gesture out at the room as if addressing the whole room. The one picture of the Crafts in the room seemed very intrigued by this proposal. He looked towards the ceiling.

“Wilbur’s a mess!” He said. “He needs his brother right now!” Techno glanced at the picture frame. “And your dad! He’s trying to keep it together, and I know it seems like he has everything under control because he’s a massive bellend, but he doesn’t!” He turned back to look at Techno. “You need to be there for them. And you need to be around enough to let them understand what you need, too. And I’ll be there if you need me!” He gave a mischievous grin. “Worst case scenario, I walk in and turn into a cat.”

Techno snorted at that. He then took a big breath. He thought about his conversation with Phil ages ago and felt guilt swell for leaving everything unresolved.

On the other hand, whenever he had one panic attack, another usually would follow. Dinner would be atrocious. Something would go wrong.

A few moments of reflection led to a coy nod, accompanied only by a quivering lip.

He could surely do this. 

He could do this!

+++ 

God, why’d he agree to this again?

Curtains of tension hung from the ceiling in mundane festival streamers. A box of lukewarm pizza sat between four chairs, only one empty. A set of utensils clacked together as Techno sliced into his pizza like he always did. Wilbur silently chewed, eating the slice tip to crust like he always did. He ate his pizza backward like he always did. Phil sat straight up, smiling at his boys like he always did. But today he smiled tautly instead of resting easy; Wilbur fumed as he bit into the last of the crust before begrudgingly grabbing another slice; And Techno ate slowly as to think about what he might say.

It’d been ages since Techno had eaten a proper full meal. Phil always made a point to leave leftovers in the fridge that were easy to access, but Techno had forgotten about it.

“Wil, can you pass me the pepper flakes?” Phil asked.

“Sure,” Wilbur responded curtly.

He reached across the table, grumpily holding it. He held it very loosely, knocking it onto Techno’s plate. Pepper flakes now strewn across his pizza, Techno frowns. He’d never been a fan of pepper flakes.

“Wil,” Phil scolded.

“Well, maybe if Techno wasn’t such a baby, he’d be able to handle spicy food,” Wilbur spat out, teeth gritted. 

Techno tried to count his breathing.

“We don’t speak that way at the dinner table, Wilbur. In fact, we don’t speak that way at all.”

“I-” Wilbur began.

“Wil, don’t say something you’ll feel guilty about saying later.”

Wilbur didn’t answer.

“Hey Tech,” Phil coaxed, his hand brushing his son’s. Techno's stopped trembling underneath Phil’s. Wait, when did they start shaking, to begin with? “Let’s switch plates, yeah? I haven’t bitten into mine yet.”

Gratitude washed over him as his dad swapped plates with him. He nodded. “Yes. Please.”

The family then lapsed into another brief silence.

Even knowing Phil had solved the problem, Techno’s parasympathetic nervous system had not yet done its proper job. 

He tried to suppress the anxiety bubbling in his chest. He’d only agreed with Tommy to attend dinner because he thought he could do this, but feelings shift. He felt as if he were in a house of strangers again. The shouting, the coldness, the grief– everything was so overwhelming he could feel himself shutting down.

He opened his mouth to speak. Phil could always calm him down, Tommy was right down the hall, and Wilbur could sing him a song. Wilbur’s songs could always ground him. He hadn’t heard Wilbur play in so long.

“Thanks for joining us, Techno,” Phil offered after a few minutes. “It’s been a while since I’ve had both of my boys here.”  It’s all I’ve wanted , he wants to say. 

Techno swallowed. His breath felt hot as it left his lungs. “No problem, dad,” he responded. As Wilbur not-so-subtly scoffed, Techno’s default politeness kicked in. He didn’t feel right. “Thank you for allowing us to eat this pizza.”

Phil frowned a little. “You don’t need to thank me for feeding you, mate,” he reminded. It’d been months since he’d slipped up.

And  oh. 

How long had it been since he’d eaten properly?

When he went to the park he’d been grabbing cat food for Tommy at the store, but always forgot to buy snacks. He’d grab plates of food for Tommy, but never much for himself. He ate a rice cereal treat for dinner last night. 

He hadn’t missed a meal in forever. Kristin and Phil always made sure he’d eaten something. When he admitted to them that it was hard to eat sometimes, they’d been so supportive. They made sure everyone ate dinner together every night, solely for Techno. And he’d forgotten. 

Oh god, he’d forgotten.

And now that he’s thinking about it he couldn’t see properly. Everything looked blurry, like he was seeing through a monochrome kaleidoscope. 

And he heard a chair scoot backward. Voices were muffled all around him, but he could only decipher how warbly his chest felt. 

A blur of brown sat by his side. That must’ve been one of his foster siblings, right?

He curled further in on himself. He didn’t want someone to yell at him again.

His breathing came out in sharp staccatos. 

“Please,” he begged. “I didn’t mean to.” He repeated this. He didn’t even remember what he did!

What did he do again?

Something about food.

Food… 

Food?

Oh, he must’ve been caught sneaking food, then. 

He was usually so careful, so this was weird.

Even weirder, when he took a breath and listened for a moment, something caught his attention. It sounded like music?

Someone was humming?

The tune felt familiar. He focused on it. 

Where had he heard this before?

“Hum with me,” the voice prompted. 

He obliged. 

“But I can’t say that I’ve wasted my time,” the voice sang. 

“-Because I’m built by you,” Techno added. He didn’t sound melodic, more stuffy than pretty, but the voice didn’t seem to mind.

He knew this melody.

Wilbur had sung it to him in the hospital waiting room before. He’d sung it in both of their bedrooms, and he’d sung it when he showed Techno his little nook in the closet. He’d sung it after their mother’s funeral and nearly every night after until their fight.

“Wil,” he cried out. He reached his hands out as if he were a toddler crying for his parent. “Wilbur.”

Warmth slipped into his arms, saying, “I’m here. I’m sorry. I'm sorry I’ve been awful, I’m here.”

Phil took to crouching beside Techno, running his hand soothingly through pink strands. After a few minutes, after realizing they’d be there for a little bit, Phil pulled up a chair.

“I'm so fucking scared," Techno cried, voice muffled by a yellow sweater. “You’ve been scaring me, Wilbur.”

Wilbur squeezed Techno tighter. “I’ve been unfair. I’m sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“But why?” Techno choked out. “Why?”

Wilbur nudged his face into Techno’s shoulder. “I don’t know. I just. I think I wanted someone to take it out on. And I was so- so  angry . I wasn't there for you. I couldn't be there for mom. I didn't do enough. And I don't deserve to have good things right now.”

Techno stared at the colorful shapes in his eyelids. The tears no longer dripped down his cheeks, but the stinging in his eyes hadn’t subsided. “You scared me, Wilbur,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry. So so fucking sorry. I didn’t–”

“I know.” He understood the pain. He gasped, burying himself further into the yellow cotton. “She wasn’t actually alone when she died," Techno whispered.

Phil’s hand paused for a moment before scooting closer and continuing to card through his hair. 

“I don’t know why I lied,” Techno whispered, frowning. “I panicked. I watched her get still. I could feel when her breathing stopped.”

“Tech,” Phil whispered. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sorry you went through that alone.”

“‘S not your fault, dad. I was being stupid.”

“Why don’t we reframe that statement? Yeah, Techno?” Phil prompted. The words could've come from Kristin herself.

Techno snorted at that, wiping the snot from his nose as he poked his head up. “I was being… Silly.” 

“My sons are many things, but neither of you are stupid,” Phil said. “You’re young. You’ll make mistakes. And when you do, you can come to me. I’ll always be here for you boys.”

“I’m sorry, dad,” Wilbur began.

Techno and Phil both hushed him. 

"Mate, if I hear you apologize one more time I might just tear my hair out."

This time, the silence that eased between them wasn’t awkward or tense. It was peaceful. And for a moment, Techno could focus on his family near him. For the first time in weeks, he felt together. He felt completely at peace.

At some point, he and Wilbur moved. Techno sat down next to his brother, both leaning back onto the wall behind them. 

Phil did the same, handing his sons slices of pizza on the way down.

They ate their slices quietly for a while.

Techno finally pried open his eyes slowly, ignoring the feeling that cobwebs were gluing them shut. He finally got a good look at his family.

Everyone looked tired. He couldn't shake off the exhaustion engrained beneath Phil's eyes. Wilbur's outfit was the same as yesterday, and his disheveled hair could've been a bird's nest. Everyone looked so drained of life.

Despite it all, they were together. And it wasn't perfect, it was nowhere near, but it was the best it'd been since Kristin died.

Shhhhhh,  a noise echoed into the kitchen. 

They all perked up at the sound. Who turned the faucet on-?

WHAT THE FUCK?

Tommy stood there, glass in hand, letting the cup fill with water.  

He shut off the tap. 

He took a sip.

"Ahh," he said, downing half the cup. Some of the water missed his mouth, dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt. He wiped the spillage onto his arm.

He finally looked around the room, his eyes landing on Phil, Wilbur, and Techno. Wilbur and Phil's expressions were more of an "I've seen a ghost" look, whereas Techno's face was more of a "you did not just fucking do that".

"Ayup, men," he said, taking another sip. "Nice evening, huh?" He went to turn around before realization set in. "Shit, wait a second-"

And he booked it out of the kitchen.

The family, once more, devolved into chaos.

"DAD! I TOLD YOU! OUR HOUSE IS HAUNTED!"

"Who the hell was that kid?"

"Oh god..."

...

It took them a while to settle down.

In the end, everyone ended up sitting in the living room with Techno and Tommy standing in front of the couch. Wilbur slouched forward and his hands out in front of him in contemplation. Phil sat relaxed, ankle atop his thigh as he waited for enlightenment.

"So... This is Tommy," Techno began.

"Techno, I swear I didn't know you were home-"

"Tommy, first thing's first."

"I thought 'family dinner' meant out of the house! You weren't clear enough! If you had been clearer, this would've been a different story." Tommy crossed his arms and pouted. "This is not my fault."

Techno puffed. "I never said it was."

"Okay," Wilbur said, slowly. "As much as I love friendly banter... This is weird." He looked to Phil. "This is weird, right? I'm not the only one who thinks this?"

"Oh, it only gets weirder," Tommy said, deviously.

"Tommy, no!" Techno said, sighing.

But it was too late. To the horror of all three of the Crafts, now in Tommy's place stood a little yellow kitten, stretching his legs out.

"He's that cat?!" Wilbur shouted. His demeanor immediately shrunk. "I spent an hour trauma-dumping to a thirteen-year-old cat shape-shifter."

Phil looked troubled. He cleared his throat, trying to act rationally. "So, uh. How did you meet this kid? Cat? Cat kid?" He pondered his word choice, looking at the ceiling.

"I found him," Techno said. "After our fight." His eyes grazed Wilbur's. "Look, I know it's weird, but Tommy's a good kid. He doesn't have anywhere to go, so I was hoping he could stay with us." He picked Tommy, who was licking his fur clean, up off the floor and held him out to his family. "He deserves a good home. And he's already been staying in the guest room!"

"That's fine and all, Tech," Phil began, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need some time to process this all. Just let me know when someone's staying at the house next time. Yeah?"

"You are taking this remarkably well."

Phil shrugged. "It'll set in eventually."

Tommy shook himself out of Techno's hands and hopped onto the couch, nestling himself in Phil's lap.

"You already know all our secrets, Tommy," Phil said. "I thought you were just a random kitten! I'm sorry if I bored you with family drama."

"Wait, you've met him before?" Techno gawked. "You said you wouldn't leave the room!"

Tommy responded with the cheekiest grin a cat could give.

+++ 

The hallway looked complete with most of Techno's photos hung on the wall. He and Wilbur had spent the entire afternoon hammering nails and straightening frames so that the box got finished, even without Kristin. When Wilbur had realized Techno's photo wall remained incomplete, he'd dragged Techno to the hall and shoved a bowl of supplies at him after kicking Jack and Niki out, shouting, "Brother bonding!" (Niki had left with an unopened box of bleach and pink dye, promising she'd fix Techno's roots eventually.)

Wilbur fished the last photo out of the box, gasping. "Oh my god, Techno!"

Techno peered over his shoulder, resting a hammer on his shoulder. He'd finished hanging a picture of Kristin resting her head on his. He checked that it was parallel to the floor and walked over to his brother. "What'd you find?" His eyes registered the picture, and he cringed. "No! No. Wilbur, you have to put that away. Burn it and never let it see the light of day."

"But Techno! Look how shy you were when you first got here!" Wilbur said, shoving the picture closer. "So small and angsty!"

"No way." Techno scoffed. " You  were small and angsty!  I  was young and traumatized. There is a difference!"

"C'mon!" Wilbur urged. "We get to see how much better you've gotten! It's a reminder that we should celebrate!"

"I don't know, Wilbur. Talking to you is pretty miserable," Techno teased.

Wilbur gave a halfhearted smile. "Yeah. It can be."

"Hey," Techno said, resting the hammer against the wall and flicking Wilbur's forehead. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"Ow!" Wilbur cried. "Fuck, man." He rubbed the spot on his forehead. "And I know. It's just hard."

Techno put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him a little. "Get out of your head. You spend enough time in there as is."

"Okay," Wilbur muttered. 

"Exactly!" Techno said, crossing his arms and pointing his nose to the ceiling. When his brother didn't answer, he loosened. "If it's really bothering you, tell me."

Thus, he opened a can of worms.

"I'm still sorry," Wilbur said. Techno opened his mouth to say something, but Wilbur cut in. "And I know you still think about it, too. Don't lie to me."

"I," Techno began. "I do still think about it sometimes." He crouched next to Wilbur. "But I know you. And you are my brother. Brothers fight sometimes."

"But you still think about it!" He quietened. "And I don't want to fuel any shit in your head. You shouldn't have to remember bad memories because I'm in a bad mood. You deserve so much better."

Techno weighed the words for a moment. "Wilbur, for as many headaches you give me, you help me out more than you give me credit for. Sometimes, things happen. We're more fragile some days than others- And that's not either of our faults! We'll deal with it as we go along. This family taught me that we don't give up on each other, not only because we love each other, but because we're willing to get passed learned helplessness for our family."

"You're way too forgiving about this," Wilbur said, biting his lip.

Techno sighed, realizing it would take a while to sort this out. "You know what? We'll work this out in therapy."

"Technooooooo," a shrill voice called from the front door. "Phil lied! He wasn't taking me out for ice cream."

"Come on, Tommy. If I told you where we were going, you would've shifted and left!"

"Technoooooooo!!!!"

The twins could hear pounding footsteps approaching the hall.

Techno stood, chuckling. 

Wilbur smiled. "Go ahead."

"You sure?" Techno asked. "I'll stay if you need me to."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Wilbur said. "I need to think for a while, anyway."

"Let me know if you need anything, Wilbur. We'll talk more later."

Wilbur nodded before grabbing the hammer. He began to hang the last photo on the wall with the rest of Techno's pictures.

As Techno exited the hallway, a small cat hopped into his arms.

"Tommy!" Phil cried, exasperated. "Please, mate. We need to figure out the legalities to get proper custody."

Tommy let out an indignant meow, burying his face into Techno's hoodie. He stuck a few claws into the fabric before Techno bopped his head lightly to knock it off.

"Phil, what happened?" Techno asked. Tommy didn't avoid many things. After a few weeks, the kid became obsessed with warm baths and was content in the bathroom alone. He was a very outgoing kid, always inserting himself into strangers' conversations while they were out. He leaped into all sorts of new activities. He seemed indestructible. Other than a few peculiarly specific issues, of course.

It took a few weeks for Phil to find out about Tommy's disordered eating. Because Tommy had ate meals separately by his own insistence, pinpointing his rushing to the bathroom wasn't easy. After hearing him retch behind closed doors, Phil soon realized there was an issue.

"I love the food, I swear!" Tommy had promised. "It's just... a lot. I don't think my stomach can handle it. I didn't want you to see that."

Phil creased his brow, but Tommy refused to explain why he used to eat so little. Even so, Phil talked out a solution with Tommy, figuring out what foods were best for him and what he needed.

They discovered the needle issue while he and Wilbur looked through Kristin's old boxes. They'd found a sewing kit. It took twenty minutes to coax Tommy from under his bed.

Unlike the eating debacle, he refused to explain the needles.

Tommy whined again.

"I think he can explain when he's ready, Tech," Phil said. "I just need you two to talk. I have to finish up some paperwork. Tommy already knows my feelings."

"This better be good," Techno joked. "I've already expended my one emotional conversation for the day." 

As Phil left, Techno looked down at the cat in his arms. "What did you do?"

And so Techno dragged Tommy to the empty park to talk. Tommy, however, still could only form wailing meows.

"Tommy, shift back, please."

Tommy meowed in refusal. 

"Tommy, shift back."

Meow.

"Tommy!"

This cycle repeated until Tommy sat on a swing, human nose upturned as he stared at the sky. 

"So..." Techno began, beginning to sway on his swing.

"So?" Tommy parroted, trying to get more air than Techno.

"What did Phil want you to talk about?"

"He brought me to a lawyer and wanted me to talk about my history," Tommy said. "So that they could figure out how to adopt me."

"And why am I needed?" Techno asked, pumping his legs a bit harder.

"Because I'd rather tell you than some dumb lawyer!"

"So, tell me."

Tommy was nearly flung into the sky. "No."

"Please?"

Tommy shook his head. "Techno, I'm not saying anything."

"The sooner you tell me, the better. We'll find out eventually, anyways."

"I don't want you to know!" Tommy shouted, jumping out of the swing. He landed on his feet. "I don't want you to look at me different."

"You know I wouldn't," Techno said, dragging his shoes against the woodchips to stop. "Sometimes, we need to have hard conversations. That's how we keep from splitting apart; this is how we'll continue getting through."

"But that's your family! That's not me ."

Techno stood. "You are family."

Tommy didn't respond.

Techno stepped closer. "You have been family for a while now. We're brothers, Tommy. And if you ask me to, I will take whatever you say to the grave. I won't say anything you don't want me to."

Tommy picked at his nailbeds for a moment, leaning against the swingset's pole. He screwed his face into several different expressions before settling on a troubled frown.

"I had a family before you."

And suddenly, a familiar dread pooled in Techno's stomach. He let Tommy continue.

"I don't think we're related by blood, but they always told me we were family," Tommy whispered. "They weren't like you guys at all. They were mean to me. " 

Tommy turned to Techno. He looked at Techno's face for a while before his brother nodded.

"The water gave me bruises when they bathed me. The shower didn't look like yours either. It looked more like that green thing in the yard? But bigger."

"The hose?" Techno croaked. He began to reach his hand out.

"Please, stop," Tommy said, his voice quivering as he recoiled away from the touch. "I need to finish all together. I don't think I can if we stop to talk."

Techno nodded again, sitting on the wood chips, picking one up and pulling bits of it off. Tommy followed suit, crossing his legs on the ground.

"Before I escaped, they tried to poke me with things. I hadn't tried to leave until they started using needles. Whenever I did something wrong, they would- more needles-" Tommy looked down and away, trying to find anything else to focus on. "I didn't know how nice it was outside before I left. They would let me read if I shifted whenever they asked me to, so I knew what some things were, but it was so much more than I thought it would be. And then I found the park! I didn't want to leave. It was so quiet. It was never quiet at home."

"You are home now, Tommy," Techno said. "You're safe now. We're your family."

"Do you mean it?" Tommy asked. "I feel like this is all a dream I'm going to wake up from. It feels too good. I don't want you to realize it was a mistake."

Techno had danced with these thoughts before. His chest surged. "Can I hug you?"

Tommy nodded.

Techno took the boy into his arms and buried a hand into his hair. "You're safe now. We're not going anywhere anytime soon," Techno whispered, a secret shared between brothers. "You deserve the world. It's not going to end. "

That's all it took for Tommy to break. Months of staying with the Crafts, believing it will end at any moment, going to bed knowing he was safe for the time being, believing they'll let him go when they realized how damaged he was, all flushed out a heavy bawl. Tears and snot mixed into Techno's shirt, but he tried not to think about it.

"I don't want to leave!" he cried. "Please don't make me go!"

"You won't. We'll figure it all out, and you'll always have us by your side. I'll always be here."

"You promise?"

And though Techno realistically knew it was an impossible promise to make, he also knew many impossible things to be true. He knew that he had found a cat at a park that helped glue his family back together. He knew that this cat could make the most awful bones-cracking noises as he turned into a human boy. He knew that he found color in his life after his mother's death. He knew that his family would be incomplete without all three sons. And he knew that he couldn't have survived his mother's death without his little brother.

So impossibilities be damned. Techno wouldn't lie in proclaiming that they would always be together. He would find a way. He refused to let his family crumble.

"Yeah," Techno said. "I promise you, kid."

And as far as both of them knew, it was the truth.

Tommy let out a breath. "You can tell dad about what I told you. If it helps me stay here."

Techno blinked. "Dad?" A grin crept across his face.

"Shut up, prick! You heard nothing! I didn't say that!" Tommy struggled against the hug for a moment, trying to tackle Techno before remembering how incredibly weak he was. He sunk into Techno's arms once again, letting his body slump against the ground.

"You sure you want him to know?" Techno questioned. "About your past, not the whole 'dad' bit."

Tommy huffed. "Seriously, can you tell him? I don't want to do that again. But... I'll be there when you explain it, I think. I can do that."

"Okay, Tommy. Sounds good." 

Tommy beamed mischievously. "You know, if you love me so much, you should buy me ice cream."

"Annnnd, bonding moment over," Techno said, pulling away from Tommy, messing up his hair as he stood up.

"Hey! My hair is very important, Blade!" Tommy cried, letting Techno pull him to his feet. "How dare you!"

Techno rolled his eyes, digging in his pocket for his wallet. "What flavor ice cream do you want, Tommy?"

"Wait. Really?" Tommy exclaimed, eyes wide. 

"Yes, really." Techno smiled. "Dad promised you some, remember?"

Tommy giggled. "You're my favorite brother. Don't tell Wilbur. Or do? I think he already knows."

"I'll let him know. We have to keep him humble."

They passed a flickering street lamp as they left the park to remain in peaceful silence.

The sky was bright and clear, moon peaking over few clouds as it beamed down at the Earth. The world seemed to still. There were no crying teens or upset meows near slides. There were no lonely nights spent finding escape in company. Only the soft chirping of crickets, gentle whistles of zephyrs, and bugs buzzing about the street lights persisted. 

Laughter echoed down the street. Despite the cool, biting air, a warmth hung in the skies, unmatched by anything else.