Work Text:
Considering he was currently one of the most famous Heroes in the city, Phil really ought to be living somewhere better than a cramped two-bedroom apartment on the shady side of town. At the very least, somewhere he didn't run the risk of getting jumped when he got his morning coffee.
It wasn't like he couldn't afford it, either - on paper, the pay was pretty damn good, even if it paled in comparison with being on call twenty four seven, no holidays or days off, and of course the risk of being impaled/thrown off a building/burnt to a crisp or any other manner of horrible ways to die.
As far as the public were concerned, the Angel lived in the Hero Tower with all the other Heroes, playing happy families because they all got along perfectly with each other. As far as his bosses and coworkers knew, he lived in some swanky penthouse in the diamond district, getting daily manicures and eating from his live-in private chef.
And that was how he liked it. No one needed to know that he spent his evenings tucked up on a stained couch, eating ramen and complaining about shitty TV with his best friend. It was space away from the craziness of his job, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.
Techno was why he didn't move somewhere better.
Phil knew how his best friend worked - Techno grew up rough, in the sort of household where fresh produce was a fever dream, and social services had long since given up trying to help parents who were popping out children faster than they could manage. He'd grown up self-reliant, working for cash as soon as he was tall enough to pass for a teenager, and that independence had followed him right into adulthood. He refused to accept any sort of help, and that Phil was even allowed to pay the bills was the result of their longest and meanest fight to date.
They both knew that Phil could afford to buy them a nicer apartment, pay the bills, buy the groceries and get regular luxuries for them both, and it would hardly make a dent in his bank account, and they also both knew that Techno would rather die than let him do that.
So they stayed in their shitty apartment, Phil bought mold spray to clean down the walls once a month, and dissolved vitamin C tablets into Techno's coffee to make sure he didn't get scurvy.
Techno didn't know what he actually did for his job. He knew that Phil worked in the Hero Tower, he knew he had odd hours, and he knew that he sometimes got injured, but he didn't know that Phil was a Hero.
As far as Tech was concerned, his best friend was a clumsy office worker who occasionally got mugged and also had the world's shittiest boss.
And in turn, Phil hadn't pried about what his job was.
He was curious, sometimes, but he trusted that whatever Techno was doing, he was doing something if not legal, at the very least safe.
He shouldn't have trusted him. God he shouldn't have trusted him-
"Phil? You doing good, man? Forget your keys?"
Phil flinched, eyes going wide with shock as Techno rounded the staircase, a bag of groceries clutched in one hand.
"Tech!" he managed, sounding only a little strangled, "You- I thought you were home-"
"I was home," the man replied, raising an eyebrow and flipping his pink braid over his shoulder, "But we were out of milk, and you throw a fit if you don't get your granola in the morning."
"One, I do not throw fits, two- I don't have a good point for two, but you should feel ashamed regardless." The banter was easy to slip into, as Phil let Techno open the door.
He couldn't help the way he stared at the back of his best friend's neck, at the soft hair that fell in curls whenever he didn't have it roughly pulled back.
He'd even mentioned the coincidence before, to Techno, joking that he better dye his hair before someone mistook him for the Blood God. Pink hair wasn't exactly grounds for arrest, but they had similar body types, and underneath the teasing, there had been a true streak of anxiety about Techno's safety.
God- he'd been worried about Techno-
He shouldn't have come home. He really, really shouldn't have-
He should've gone straight to Captain Puffy when he recognised the tattoo on the Blood God's back, after Ender had managed to slice through part of it. She would know what to do - more than a twenty two year old college dropout would, anyway - she would've helped.
And now it was just him and the guy who tried to kill him twice a week, putting away groceries in silence.
Phil couldn't help but wonder if Techno knew. If he'd always known. If their friendship had become meaningless the moment he'd been recruited for the Hero program, two weeks into college, and that Techno stuck around because he was playing with him.
But no, that wasn't his best friend's style. Nor the Blood God's, while he was thinking about it. He might be cruel, and he might be single-minded when he got an idea into his head, but they were always fair. He didn't lie, mostly, and certainly never to Phil, and he also didn't subject himself to staying around idiots and people he didn't like.
Techno didn't know.
But Phil did.
He flinched again, when Techno slammed his hands down on the kitchen table.
"Alright man," he sighed, "Spill it. What's got you all- silent and broodin'? I'm meant to be the intimidating one, you're too short to sulk."
"I'm not short, you're freakishly tall," Phil replied, but it was a hollow reply, born from habit and not the love of the game, "I'm- I'm fine, Techno. Just something that happened at work today, that's all."
Techno raised an eyebrow, "We complain' about work? I love doin' that. If you're gonna be all- grumpy and sad, I'm orderin' in from that Italian place you like, cause I ain't dealing with emotions today."
"I'm not hungry, mate, I'm just gonna head to bed, I think." Phil pulled up a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. He'd meant to confront Techno, tonight. He'd been preparing himself outside the door, to barge in, demand the truth, and once he got it, get out.
He didn't know what he'd expected - for Techno to suddenly have changed? To see the Blood God in their kitchen? That would make it easier, to do this. When he could see an enemy in front of him, and not his best friend.
But this was Techno, already grabbing his phone despite the fact he hated phone calls, solely to get something to make Phil feel better, because despite the tough exterior, he was a fucking softie.
"Lasagna first, then sleep, as Sun Tzu said."
Maybe he should wait until after they'd eaten to say something. Eating made people calm, right? It was probably a better idea than just blurting it-
"I know."
"Good, then you'll sit and wait for me to call the place before-"
"Uh- no that's- that's not what I know-" Phil stumbled, hitting himself with a mental baseball bat, "I- I know, Techno. I know."
"You gotta be a bit more specific than that, man, there's a whole lotta things that someone can know."
"Yeah I know-" Phil took a deep, calming breath and tried not to scream, "I know about- your job. What you do."
There was a moment's silence, and he tensed, wishing he had some of his weapons here. His wings weren't much use in close quarters, and wind manipulation worked best outside-
"Yeah, I figured you did. Was wondering when you'd mention it. Do you still want the pasta or-?"
Phil was like- ninety percent sure he was in the middle of some fever dream. He- Techno- How-
"You- you know?" he said faintly, hands shaking a little, "You-"
"I do watch the news sometimes, you know?" Techno said, voice far too calm for it to be natural, "Bad luck that the drones got a shot of my back earlier, I only saw the cover of the battle an hour or so ago, I wasn't sure whether you saw it either, but then you flinched when I came home, and-"
The man shrugged, the picture of nonchalance, or at least he would've been, if his hands weren't shaking.
Techno didn't know.
Phil hadn't seen the news coverage, but if they got a shot of the tattoo, it made sense that he would've pierced it together. He knew what Techno was, but Techno didn't know what he was.
He should keep it that way. It would be safer for them both - Techno clearly trusted him, if he came home despite everything, he could keep both of their secrets for them.
How strange, that all thoughts of alerting the Heroes were now gone. That he was now thinking about how he could hide his best friend, instead of doing the moral and right thing and turning him over to the authorities.
"Say something, Phil. Please."
Phil's throat was closing up. What was there to say? That he understood? That it was gonna be okay? That he'd seen Techno commit murder for the sake of blood being spilt, and that even though by tomorrow morning they'd be at each other's throats again, he forgave him?
If Techno killed the Angel, and came home to an empty apartment, how long would it take for him to put the pieces together?
"I didn't learn from the news."
Plastic clattered to the floor like a gunshot, Techno's phone slipping through his fingers as twenty years of friendship did the same.
"You-" Techno's voice was hoarse, "Phil…"
"I didn't learn from the news," Phil repeated, "I saw the tattoo, but- but I didn't see it on the news."
"Phil, no. No, don't-" Techno's denials were heartbreaking, soft and desperate, like he could retract the truth with his words alone.
"I'm the Angel, Techno. I'm a Hero. I saw the tattoo because I was there,"
"No. NO! Phil- Phil no- don't say that, that's not-" Techno tugged at his hair, white-knuckling pink strands, pulling them out of their braid. Phil gave a laugh that was more a sob, and slid down onto the kitchen floor, head in his hands.
When Techno slid next to him, shaking like a leaf and eyes hollow, Phil pulled him into his arms, rocking them both back and forth.
He wasn’t sure how long they sat there on the floor, only that both their tears had dried by the time Phil found the strength to speak.
"What do we do, Techno? What do we do?"
Techno’s voice was haunted as he replied, “We could probably still get that Italian. It closes late.”
And then Phil laughed until he started crying again. Lasagna really did sound good.