Archive of Our Own

1.

Adopting is a fucking boring and long process that Techno never thought he would endure. The court visits, the people in a suit in his house asking him questions, consulting his therapist, then asking Tommy questions-

Man, it’s- complicated.

After 2 gruesome months of legal battle, waiting and being accepted as someone capable of fostering, Tommy is now his legal responsibility. Now, he’s officially his guardian. 

There were not many details of the boy’s last guardian: apparently, the man died almost two years ago and was living with Tommy in Newcastle. Since then, the kid has been… Missing. Which was a huge surprise - one that he didn’t comment on; not now, anyway. 

Many things were discussed during court days, some things that Techno doesn’t even want to remember. 

But now- it doesn’t matter. The day the results came in, they celebrated ordering pizza - just for once he let the kid have the broccoli one - and watching movies with the company of Phil, Wilbur and Ranboo, who recently got back from Brighton. 

Tommy goes to school and now, Techno works in a flower shop and, on wednesdays and thursdays nights, he gives oil painting classes at an art studio. Since they are open for the community, sometimes Tommy sticks around, other times he sees the other kids from the neighborhood, and the first time one of his students finished a painting he almost cried.

(Niki was the first one to receive a picture, consisting of just exclamation points. She laughed, complimenting the person and the student from their hard work).

Things are ordinary, to say at least - it’s still a big surprise for him to remember he was technically a parent, but that’s ok, one step at time (well, the catshifter part too). Tommy refuses to sleep in his room, so he wakes up with a cat suffocating him, or a kid. Then they get up, have breakfast and, since Techno doesn’t have a car, they go to the bus together, parting ways when Tommy goes to school. Later, when both are back, Wilbur would barge in and stay for the rest of the day.

The routine? Doesn’t actually exist, however, Techno likes to pretend it does.

(“Tommy, let’s wake up, c’mon,” the person said for the fifth time, shaking the boy. Tommy grumbled, turning around. He was rolled around a weighted blanket, which was imprinted with a bunch of daisies drawings. The teenager’s face was smashed against one of the three pillows they have, hugging another one since Techno left the bed twenty minutes ago - and now there wasn't any person to cling to.

He stays a minute staring, waiting. The boy doesn’t move, merely snoring softly and eventually snorting.

God, it’s so embarrassing how his heart warms at the vision. He’s even smiling! What the hell!

“Tommy,” he tries to be more stern, using all his strength to wipe out the smile from his face - doesn’t work. The boy hums. “You have school, c’mon-” he starts unwrapping the blanket.

“Nooo- I don’ wan’ to-” he slurred, trying to slap the other away, failing miserably. 

“Nope, none of that, c’mon. Or you’re gonna drop out just like me-”

He starts to whimper dramatically, Techno holding himself from rolling his eyes. Now is starting to get annoying, fuck the whole cute thing. He’ll drop kick this child soon if he doesn’t get out of the bed. 

“Tommy-”

“Technooo-” he peeks an eye out, smiling lazily. “Sleepy day, c’mon-”

The person merely stares at him with a deadpan expression.

“You asked for it,” without giving any warning, he holds the boy’s shins and pulls him out of the bed, making him fall on the floor on his ass.

A few seconds in silence, with Techno holding back his laughter.

“What the FUCK, Techno?!-”

He cackles loudly.)

What does exist, however, is the constant whining from Tommy.

It’s not a surprise that it happened again, today.

He was cooking dinner, waiting for Tommy to get home. Normally he stays around the neighborhood with his friends, doing whatever the fuck teenagers do, until 6 PM, when he has to get home to eat and do homework.

At 6:05 PM the door opens, grumbling and shuffling being possible to hear from the kitchen. One of the person’s eyebrows arches at that. 

Soon, the mop of blonde hair appears at the doorway of the kitchen, with a frown on his face.

“Hey, Tom. How was school?” the boy goes to flop on the chair, Techno catching the chance to mess with the kid’s hair quickly and right after going back to cooking. More grumbles can be heard.

“Shit,” he murmured, pouting, leg bouncing as he fidgets with his fingers. Techno hums.

“Something happened?” he lowers the music he was hearing from Wilbur’s playlist, gathering all his attention for the teenager purely.

“Just-” he huffs a breath, grumbling under his breath to the point the person can’t distinguish what’s being said. 

“Didn’t catch that, kid,” he turns off the oven, starting to put the pans on the table. Tommy, catching the signal, starts to gather plates, cutlery and cups.

“I- ugh,” he groans. “I got detention,” he mumbles. It’s still pretty silent, but this time Techno could catch it. The pink haired stops midway.

“Why?” 

“Because, apparently, I was ‘disturbing my classmates during the exam,’” Tommy made quotes with his fingers, rolling his eyes. Frustration is clear from his voice. 

Techno, already expecting the boy to ramble, hummed promptly, waiting for the bomb. The boy’s complaints remind him of his childhood, which is kind of funny - he hopes it’s just funny. 

“It’s just- It’s so stupid! I was doing nothing!” Tommy exclaimed as he put down two plates. “I finished the exam and the teacher confiscated our phones, so I was kind of… fidgety, y’know?” after putting everything down, he sits on his chair, drumming his fingers against the wood. “‘Didn’t have anything to do and I was getting- I don’t know, anxious, restless,” he huffs a breath.

Uh oh.

Techno knows where this is going. He sits down too, an apprehensive expression on his face. 

“I swear I was trying, but I just- couldn’t stay still! And then-” he passes a hand through his face and hair, grumbling. “And then the teacher got mad n’ shit. Started yelling and saying I was trying to unfocus my colleagues. She even accused me of trying to give them the answers!” a frown is clear on his face, frustration dripping from his voice. Techno hummed, showing he was listening - feeling a little frustrated too, deep down. “She sent me to detention, said I was being a nuisance and- I got mad and ran away.”

He sighs loudly, a sad sight to see. 

“And then there’s math that just- nothing enters my head! I simply don’t understand, and next week there’s an exam and I have a lot of homework and- uugh-” he groans loudly, laying his head on the table. After a couple of seconds in silence, he mumbles: “I hate school.”

Techno hums in agreement. He sighs, shifting a little on his seat, gathering the blonde haired attention.

“You don’t have control on that, Tommy. It’s not your fault. The way the teacher handled it wasn’t- it was shit,” he says, scooting a little closer when the kid makes a motion to rest his head on the person’s shoulder. “I had the same problem. I still have, to be honest,” he side-hugs the youngest, who hums happily from the affection. Techno snorts softly. “Mine was because of my ADHD. Maybe you can be? I don’t know, but-” Tommy has a surprised expression, but doesn’t interrupt. “Teachers have to adapt their way of teaching and atmosphere so all kids can do their best, y’know? Even more if they are neurodivergent, like my case or- or Ranboo’s.”

Tommy kicks his legs, fidgeting with his fingers as the information soaks in. It feels good to have the confirmation that it’s really not his fault, and yes his teacher’s, however-

He still feels stupid. Incapable. Grumbling, he scoots closer to Techno, wanting more comfort. 

“I can go with you tomorrow, talk about it. See what we can do,” the human observes Tommy, noticing his furrowed expression. He sighs softly, giving light taps at the kid’s cheek. “Let’s eat, ‘kay? Then I’ll help you with homework,” still upset, he nods, shifting back to his place. 

They eat and, this time, Techno is the one to fill the silence, talking about the shenanigans of his students from today. Tommy sometimes snorts and quips, doing his own commentary, yet, more quieter than usual. It makes the person’s heart hurt.

After eating, cleaning the dishes together - this time, listening to Tommy’s playlist (that’s, unsurprisingly, heavily affected by Wilbur’s likings) -, and putting on some comfortable clothes, they gather around the table, ready to do homework.

Techno does his best to observe the kid: see where things are difficult for him, and if it’s really ADHD or just some heavy attention and anxiety problems. He implements things he does that helps him. A few work, others not. 

However, with trial and failure, Techno successfully taught his k- Tommy the content, even making a few exercises together and alone. Now, he has information to talk to the school about, that can help the boy in his studies.

At 8 PM, when they finish - with a lot of breaks in between -, Tommy is exhausted. Almost dropping asleep on his seat, poor thing. Chuckling softly, Techno made the kid stand up and escorted him to their bedroom.

Methodically, he cleans up the mess they made, not bothered for doing it alone this time - the kid needs the rest. He puts the school things on the backpack, puts Tommy’s phone to charge and puts his shoes on the correct place.

When everything is finished, he goes to their shared bedroom, just to tuck the kid, make sure he’s comfortable and not cold. Putting one more blanket on him, just to be sure, Tommy stirs, shuffling. Then-

“Thanks, dad,” he slurs out, sleepily.

Soon, he goes back to sleep, snoring.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no. He’s going to cry. Oh no. Oh no.

He’s not crying because the kid just called him dad. Nope. He’s not. He REFUSES. He will not-

Catching himself from squishing the teenager’s cheeks just to annoy him - it’s his love language, shut up -, he leaves the room, tears brimming his eyes. He fishes his phone from his pocket. He clicks on Wilbur’s contact, calling.

A few seconds pass before the man picks up, grumbling.

“What is it, Techno? I was sleeping-”

Sniff.

“Wilbur.”

“Techno?”

More sniffles.

“Tommy just called me daaadd-”

(“Are you seriously crying?” Wilbur giggled from the other side of the line. Techno sniffles loudly.

“Shut up.”

“You really got soft, oh my God-”

“I will shatter your kneecaps the next time I see you, Wilbur. I swear-”)

2.

Contrary to popular belief, Tommy is a sweet kid. He’s a little chaotic, sometimes annoying, but other than that, he’s a sweetheart - and clingy. He cries when he gets a paper cut, since he has low pain tolerance; every time Wilbur insisted for them to watch Hamilton, he sobbed his eyes out when Burn started playing. The teenager has a kind heart. However, when Techno received a call and saw it was the school’s number, he thought of the worse: 

The kid got into a fight.

I mean, Techno was in fights a lot, mostly because Wilbur fought almost every time, so he was always there to back him up. Maybe it rubbed off on the kid? Miraculously?

So, the first thing he says when he picks up the phone is:

“What did Tommy do?”

The secretary laughed on the other line. 

“Nothing, sir,” they said, smile clear on their voice. The person sighs, relieved. “Actually, he threw up and came to the infirmary, asking for you to pick him up.”

Oh.

The relief washed away quickly. The person is already standing, gathering his things and talking in hushed voices with his boss - thank God they are understandable and good, otherwise he would be fucked. 

Apparently, the kid was found by one of the kids from the neighborhood, after he didn’t come to class after 20 minutes. He was then brought to the infirmary, where he pleaded for him. 

His heart shattered. God, that’s parenthood, then?

Soon, he’s ending the call, thanking for calling. Techno hops in the bus, praying for God and Jesus himself so it’s fast and he can help the youngest as fast as possible.

His pleads are attended and, for the first time in his life, the fucking bus is fast - after two years of going to college in the bus.

After all of the years he studied in this school - and a lot of fights -, he already knows by the back of his mind where the infirmary is, going directly there. Brings a soft feeling of nostalgia. Sitting on the couch, hugging his knees, Tommy stays, more pale than normal. Techno furrows a little, getting closer, not bothering to call the nurse.

“Tommy?” he calls softly, the boy lifting his head. The teenager’s eyes are red and swollen, cheeks blotchy, looking like he cried. The person coos softly, caressing the kid’s hair - who automatically closes his eyes, poor thing. “What happened?”

Tommy sighed, resting his head against the human’s torso. 

“Too much,” he simply said - more: whispered -, hiding his face on the pink haired body. Techno maintains the caressing on his hair, worried expression. 

He kind of expected he would get overwhelmed sometimes. After a year without proper human interaction and going to populous places, it was expected that at some point everything would be too much. It’s a slow process, even if the person tries his best to insert Tommy in the society again at a good and healthy pace.

Doesn’t matter how unsurprising it is, it still hurts his heart to see the boy so down, even more with tear tracks on his face. It’s always a hassle to see Tommy hiding beneath the covers, wincing at every noise or every new sensation. He’s probably feeling the same way: wanting to stay beneath blankets all day, hiding from the world.

The nurse finally notices that he’s there, coming at them. They smile softly, trying to reassure Techno.

“Are you Tommy’s dad?”

Oh, ok.

“Um- Y-Yeah,” he says, heart warming up a little with that. It’s soon being shoved down, because Tommy presses closer to him, shrinking on himself.

“He threw up a little before and said he had a headache. Doesn’t have a fever, though. Maybe it’s just a flu, nothing too serious,” they say lowly, noticing the teenager’s distress with the noise. Techno, instinctively, hugs the youngest, pressing softly his arm on both of his ears, trying to block the noises a little. 

“Ok, something more I should know about?”

“No, no. Just, if a fever breaks-”

He feels something tugging his shirt. Tommy looks at him with glossy eyes, lips trembling a little. 

“Dad, I wanna’ go home,” he says weakly and, God, it breaks Techno’s heart in a million pieces. He looks at the nurse, seeing if there’s something more to say. They just smile, making a dismissive hand gesture.

“Let’s go, then,” helping the kid up, Tommy is quick to glue himself against the other’s body, reminding him of a toddler. Techno’s gonna combust. He mouths a quick “thank you” to the nurse and, after signing things up on the secretary as fast as he could, he decides to call Wilbur to fetch them - thank God (again) his twin is available.

All the time Tommy stays near him, hugging his body. The kid is never this clingy- sure, he’s really clingy normally, but- not like this. He motions for them to sit on a bench and, unsurprisingly, the kid tucks himself beneath the person’s arm, hiding his face. Offering his earbuds, the teenager is quick to put it on and, taking the signal, Techno puts Wilbur’s playlist to play softly. 

Sigh.

At least the view is good looking. He caresses the kid’s hair, hearing him hum happily. A smile breaks on his face. This kid, man.

Soon, Wilbur is pulling up, worried expression being able to see from afar. Tommy doesn’t unglue himself from him, so he’s obliged to sit on the backseats, hugging. Wilbur simply arches an eyebrow and Techno shakes his head. The man nods and starts to drive - twin powers, y’know?

It’s silent.

It’s been a long time since a silent ride occurred between the brothers, now that Tommy is in their lives. Even when the kid isn’t there, they fill in, be with music, chatter or soft humming. When it’s with the teenager, it’s always filled with constant obscure facts about the deep ocean, how fucked monkfishes look at really lower levels on the water, or how sad he gets when scientists get the fishes from low levels to study and they do not survive because of the pressure. 

Now, it’s a sad sight to see. As Tommy rests his head on his shoulder, gripping for dear life his shirt as if he’s going away, Techno wishes to give him everything he wants.  

After bidding a goodbye to his brother and whispering to him that, yes, I’ll call you if he gets worse, they got to their flat. Tommy still hides himself, wincing at the littlest of the sounds. Techno makes him put on some comfortable clothes and goes to the kitchen to fetch a choccy milk for him. 

When he’s back and Tommy's eyes almost spark when he sees the drink, he smiles. This kid is going to be the death of him. 

Soon, he’s putting Tommy on the bed, making sure he doesn’t really have a fever and tucking with the weighted blanket. He closes the curtains, turns off the lights and makes sure nothing stresses his senses too much.

If Wilbur was here, he would probably say he’s a mother hen. He is proud of himself to say he’s not.  

When he’s done and going to leave the room, is when he hears:

“Stay?”

Techno is laying by the youngest side in seconds, accepting when Tommy uses him as a pillow, simply running his hands through his hair. It’s well appreciated, because the teenager hums happily and soon, dozes off.

After one hour of playing Candy Crush, he notices that Tommy called him dad again.

3.

“Tommy, you have to understand that everything can be a country-”

“Ranboo, oh my God, I’ll kill myself if you continue with this shit, I swear-”

“In bedwars-”

“In bedwars, sure-”

“Then proceeding with my talk: everything can be a country. If I say my room is a country, than it is-”

“Oh my God, Ranboo-”

“Tommy!” 

“I’ll explode your country- Yeah?!”

“Come take out the trash!”

“Team yellow is here- I’m playing bedwars!”

“Don’t care! Trash!”

The boy groans loudly as he hears his friends in the voice chat giggling.

“I need to grind, dad! I’ll be the best PVPer and defeat Dream!” 

A few seconds in silence. He’s pretty sure he heard something falling in the hallway, however, he’s too endorsed saving his base from the yellow team to care. 

“I will make you eat the trash if you don’t come here!” the person said loudly after some time, his mic catching it, no heat behind his voice. Ranboo snorts as Tubbo laughs. Tommy groans again.

“I’m going, I’m going!” he grumbled, hiding himself on a corner in their base. “If I came back and our bed is destroyed I’ll explode your country, Ranboo, I swear-”

And, as fast as he could, he fetched the trash and ran outside to dispose it. Techno is just standing there, hands on his hips as he observes the teenager. Soon, Tommy is back, being just a blur with how fast he runs. 

“Tommy, come here,” he calls out before he can go back to his room, making the teenager groan loudly. The other merely smiles. With a frown, the blonde boy approximates the person.

Then, his face is being squished between two hands as Techno does that disgusting thing that Phil does to his sons - and him too: filling his face with kisses. Soon, he’s screaming and groaning, trying to go away. The motherfucker is even laughing at his face as he’s being all clingy and shit - he ignores he’s snorting and laughing too.

“Techno, I swear to God, I’ll make sure to hide your body so well that nobody will suspect me that I killed you nor you’re dead-” the person giggles, finally letting him go. His hair is all messy and cheeks red for laughing and being squished. He grumbles as he tidies it up. “I hate you.”

“I love embarrassing you in front of your friends-” Tommy grumbles again when he remembers his mic is open and oh my God they probably heard this little bitch- 

Giving the middle finger, he runs back to the room. 

“I’m back, I’m back-” he says rushedly, sighing in relief when he sees they are still alive and with a bed. “Is the yellow team still here?”

“Yeah, fucking try hards-” Tubbo starts, loud clicking being heard from his end. “Hey, Tommy?” 

Click click.

“Yeah?” oh! Emeralds! 

“I didn’t know you called Techno dad,” the boy says offhandedly, the message of him killing someone appearing on chat. 

Tommy freezes at the iron and gold generator.

“I didn’t- Oh.”

Oh.

He called Techno dad.

For a few seconds, he stares at nowhere, processing this information. Ranboo passes on his screen, getting a few irons, buying something and running away. Tubbo screeches when TNT drops on their bed, the glass protecting most of it.

Yet, still-

Tommy called Techno dad.

He called him dad.

The teenager just snaps out of it when the message “BED DESTROYED” appears loud and clear on his screen. 

For the rest of the game, he’s more distracted than usual. His friends don’t comment on it.

4.

Wilbur pampers Tommy too much.

Techno is already tired of putting new clothes for the kid in the wardrobe, all because Wilbur entered their house with three bags full of sweaters, proclaiming he’ll fix the kid’s style. 

So, when Wilbur came in with a box and a meek smile on his face, Techno, with a deadpan expression, left to go to the kitchen.

Now, Tommy has a proper PC than the notebook Techno uses for his work - that almost dies every time the teen plays Minecraft. He even won a RGB keyboard! It was not unexpected to hear Tommy’s excited screeches when he saw it.

Soon, the boy is jumping around the flat, flapping his hands and going to the kitchen, talking loudly about his new PC and how he’s going to pass Techno’s win streak - “heh, I want to see you try, loser.”

After hugging Wilbur a lot and saying that, “hey, Will, we’re like brothers-”; “I’ll cry-”, the man left for his own house, promising to play with the teenager later. 

The problem is: Tommy doesn’t have any idea how to set up a PC. He only knows how to use notebooks and, even that, was already with things installed, since it’s Techno’s. However, this monster of a computer? It’s a lot different than a notebook. 

Then, he’s calling Phil on Techno's phone (he refused to use his, wanting to annoy the person), because apparently, the man is the tech guy of the family.

(“What does Phil work with?” 

“He’s an astronomer. But he also teaches physics and I’m pretty sure he worked a few years ago building PCs,” the person said, not paying much attention. “Why?”

“Holy shit!” Tommy exclaimed, excited. “Astronomer?!”

“Yup-”

“God, then that’s why he nerds out every time NASA posts on Twitter!” Techno snorted.

“Yup.”

A few seconds in silence.

“What do you think of us kicking him in a rocket and sending to the sun?-”)

Now, Phil is trying his best to help the kid to set up his new PC, both being easily distracted every time Tommy makes a stupid joke or talks about something interesting he learned on physics class. 

“So, like- we learned about the butterfly Effect, y’know? And Ranboo started to ramble about this game-”

Phil hummed, showing he’s listening as he does his own chores.

“Life is Strange, I think? And I was really excited because-”

“Hey, Toms?” Phil softly interrupted the teenager’s rambling, who hums longily. “Can you quickly ask Techno if he’s with my sugar?”

Even if Phil can’t see, he nods, humming in agreement. He puts the phone away, then:

“DAAAD!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, hearing things falling. Phil’s laughter can be heard from the other side of the line. 

After a few seconds, a pink head peeks inside his room, disgruntled.  

“Y-Yeah?” his voice is a little bit hoarse, like he wants to cry. Tommy doesn’t catch on it, focused on searching the apps Phil said to install.

“Phil asked if you’re with his sugar.”

“Um,” the person starts, shuffling. “I think so?”

Tommy puts the phone against his ear again.

“He thinks so,”

“Say to him to give me when he can, then,” is possible to hear the man’s smile from his voice, being clear how fun he’s having with it. I mean, don’t judge him, his son having a kid it’s still a surprise, ok?

“Phil said to give or he’ll kill you and dump you in a dumpster-”

“I didn’t say that!-”

Techno laughs softly. 

“Ok. Having fun there, kid?” he comes closer, messing with the mop of the blonde. Tommy looks up, showing his tongue. He clicks around and hums in agreement, phone still pressed against his ear. “Call me if you need anything,” messing with his hair again, he leaves the room before Tommy is successful to slap him. Cackles can be heard from the outside as the teenager grumbles.

Later that day, Techno’s phone pinged with a notification:

Dad:

Dad, huh? 

Techno:

Shut up.

5.

Since the Bedwars Incident, Tommy has started to reflect on things.

It’s been almost 11 months since he was adopted (as a cat) and 9 months since he was officially adopted (as a kid). Since then, Tommy never really stopped to think about their relationship. Sure, Techno acted pretty parentally towards him, he does things Sam did and even things Phil does with his sons. However, he never thought too much about it. It’s just his love language, innit?

He never thought that he would be considered as a son to someone else - and consider another person as a parent.  

It’s such a strange thought of being so loved to the point of- loving someone as something they… “Created”? Yeah, no, that sounds strange- 

Look, he doesn’t know how parenthood works, how they feel and shit like that. Maybe that’s why it’s so scary. That maybe that’s why he’s looking at their interactions and thinking about it way too much. 

Sam doing those things was normal since- well, biological dad, y’know? He should be feeling like that, it’s like a common knowledge. Yet, now, it’s different. They aren’t even related, so Techno isn’t forced to feel like that and he doesn’t even know why he’s loved so much-   why is he is so special to the point of-

Anyway.

For the first few days, he felt horrible. Disgusting. He was replacing Sam for Techno, how ungrateful of him. After everything he did-

He didn’t have much animation to get up off the bed. When Techno would go and wake him up, it didn’t have the same feeling of lightness and good mood. It impregnated the air to the point that, sometimes, the teenager was granted a few more minutes than usual - even a hug if he wanted.

For the first time, he finally felt the grief hitting on him. 

Everyone tried their best. The house was a little bit more silent than usual, his favorite meals were cooked more often and people went to their house to visit so often to the point it felt like they lived there - Ranboo and Wilbur, that’s for you.

It was a silent agreement to let the boy munch his feelings slowly and, when he was ready, they expected he would go to talk to them or someone else. 

Yet, as the days passed by, the heavy feeling of guilt and sadness were going away. As he looked by his side when they were watching Sherlock by Techno’s insistence, and all he felt was warmness, he slowly started to accept.

(“Ran?” he called softly. The teenagers are sitting on the less populous part of the school during recess. Normally, all the kids from the neighborhood are together, yet, sometimes, Ranboo asks in a meek voice for them to be alone for a little bit. Tommy is glad to give his friend company.

It’s one of these times. Faintly, it can be heard a few kids playing around, chatter and even a small group nearby talking quietly. With their backs against the fence, Tommy snorts softly with how much this situation seems like with their bathroom meetings.

“Hmm?” they hummed, engrossed in doing history’s homework, sharing an ear bud with him. 

Silence. 

“Um,” he starts, uncertain. The other, probably sensing his uneasiness, closes his book, giving him all his attention. 

The silence stays.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” 

Like a big man he is, he holds their hand. 

“I’ve been thinking,” hesitantly, the blonde continues. The other hums again, drawing little patterns with his finger on the other’s hand. “Do you remember when I called Techno dad?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t you think it’s- Um. Strange?”

Ran stares for a few seconds.

“... No? Why?”

He sighs, fidgeting with their hands. 

“I don’t know, it’s just-” a big sigh. “I’ve been feeling guilty about it,” Ranboo hums, squeezing their hands. “Isn't it unjust for Sam to consider Techno as a dad?”

Silence. 

“I think you’re being silly,” they finally answered. “I love my aunt like a mom, but it doesn’t mean my moms are lesser moms because of that.”

Tommy lays his head on his shoulder, soon, the other laying his on top.

“Do you think I’m being unjust to them?”

“No.”

“Then why would it be for Sam?”

Tommy sighs, frowning.

“He’s- He’s dead, Ranboo. That’s the difference,” he sneered, coming out a little bit harsher than he wanted to. 

Silence. Tommy expected they would go away. It doesn’t happen.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” he murmurs, squeezing their hands again. “Please continue.”

“It’s just- You can ask them, talk to them. And- and I don’t. I don’t know if it’s truly unjust to him because he’s not here anymore for me to know,” he rambles, swinging his feet to the point they hit each other. “Why would that be the same for him and your moms?”

Again, silence.

Ranboo smiles softly.

“Tommy, you’ll not believe what I’ll say right now.”

“God, here it comes-”

“Because they love us, Tommy. How many times will I have to say that?” he exasperates, turning a little to be face-to-face with him. “He loved you. He wants you to be happy in the same way my moms want me to be happy.”

Tommy averts eye contact, his fidgeting decreasing. Ranboo sighs lowly.

“I know the situations are different, but they love us, no matter what. And just because you’re learning to love someone new, it doesn’t mean your feelings will stop for the other person. We are best friends, right?”

“Mhm.”

“And I also consider Aimsey as one. It doesn’t mean you’re less my best friend, or that I have a tier list of who I love more. I simply love you both, and that’s ok,” he drops his hand just to swing an arm around his shoulders, hugging tightly. “And, oh boy, I love you a lot.”

“You’re so clingy.”

A snort and, soon, the hugs break off with Ranboo shoving the other away lightly. Tommy smiles meekly. 

They touch their shoulders, staring at the view. It’s silent again. A kid passes by running and screaming, followed by another one. 

“It’s ok to slowly get used to it,” Ranboo starts softly. “It’s not something you’ll stop thinking about instantly, so there’s no pressure. But I assure you: it’s ok, man. You’re just being silly.”

Tommy snorts.

“Thanks, Ran. Sometimes you’re good with words.”

“No problem, king.”)

As Ranboo said: it wasn’t something instant. There were days where he felt so horrible he didn’t even want to get near Techno. The person would always leave him alone, giving him space and, God, he doesn’t know what he did to have someone like that in his life.

And when he woke up, feeling horrible, everything being sticky and uncomfortable to the point that even a hug wasn’t helping- he understood. Because Techno passed a hand through his hair, noticed his discomfort and instantly called the school and work, admitting absence. 

When Techno came back with a noise canceling headphone, saying Ranboo landed it to him, he understood. And when he said they are going to Wilbur’s flat - right by their side -, just to be greeted with a tub full of warm water and silence, he understood.

He loves him, and Technoblade loves him back. 

When they sat by the couch to watch Turning Red, with a warm mug filled with hot chocolate, Fini sprawled through the middle table and the open arms of someone truly loving him, he understood. 

Techno will never be Sam, and Sam will never be Techno. And that’s ok. That’s why he loves them both. 

With a satisfied sigh, he finally rests his head on the human’s shoulder, automatically being embraced and cradled by two arms. He ignores the silent bicker the twins share when Wilbur calls Technoblade sap. 

Then, as the sun goes out and his heart goes still, his friends are invading Wilbur’s flat, claiming to want to have a sleepover. They sit around in the living room, fighting to decide what movie they’ll watch as Techno prepares the popcorn. 

Tommy goes to the kitchen and, without saying a word, starts to climb the other’s back. Technoblade doesn’t even bulge, like he was expecting it. When he settles down, arms around his neck, the person pinches his arm softly. 

“You’ll hurt yourself if you keep doing that,” he warns lightly, messing around with the sweet popcorn so it spreads it all. The teenager merely hums, enjoying the motions of moving around and the muffled chaos in the other room.

They both stay in silence. Techno keeps preparing the bowls and, when he’s finished, starts to serve drinks for each one of them. Tommy observes, content.

Then-

“Love you, dad.”

The pink haired stops midtrack. He’s even sure he almost dropped one of the cups. Fearing for the reaction, he closes his eyes, nestling closer to his body. 

Finally, he feels a hand mess with his hair awkwardly, a kiss on the cheek and then a pinch on the same place for good measure. The person doesn’t say back, however, it’s ok: he already knows the answer.

(They both ignore Techno’s red and glossy eyes.)

+1.

Tommy has been coming back home sad these days. Gloomy, without his usual spark and excitement. He doesn’t bully Wilbur that much anymore and he’s being really, really clingy. To the point that he’ll stick to him in any moment he can.

There’s also the fact he’s spending way more time in the cat form, laying around the house and hiding in small places. More usual than not he’ll sleep with a cat and wake up with one too. 

It’s an understatement that Technoblade is worried sick.

When asking Ranboo if maybe there’s someone picking fun of Tommy in school, he’ll shake their head and say: “everybody likes him.” When asking Quackity, an older friend of the catshifter, he’ll say that “if a person was bullying Tommy, they would already be dead.” 

Then, he thought about the boy’s grades. When asking about it with his study buddy, Crumb, it said that “Tommy doesn’t have the best grades, but he’s definitely above average.”

His investigation finishes with him lost.

It’s when he’s making a plan to talk to Tommy about what the fuck is bothering him that the school calls. He’s not a mother hen nor overprotective, yet the moment he saw who was dialing, he already feared for the worst - again.

And it’s also unsurprising how much anxiety he felt when school called because a teacher wanted to talk about Tommy’s behavior.

God.

Now, he’s definitely panicking. 

Alternatives and scenarios come in his head, all having painful endings that the pink haired really doesn’t want to think about. If even one of them were true, he would probably isolate himself in the corner of a room and stay there for hours. 

When he’s out of work and checks with Wilbur and Phil that they’ll feed the kid, he goes to the school. It’s much less busy than usual, eerily silent. Walking around the corridors just helped to ride his anxiety, each step being a breath stolen from him.

Finally, the person is in front of the teacher’s door, knocking it. A muffled “come in” can be heard from inside and, with a big calming sigh, the knob is turned around.

“Oh, hello Mr. Craph. Please, have a seat,” they pointed to a chair in front of their table, a gentle smile on their face. Gulping down his anxiety, the person sits down, stiff. He retires his jacket. “How are you doing today?”

“Uh- Good. Um. What about you…” he reads a small badge in their clothes. “Ms. Fernandez ?” he definitely said that wrong.

“I’m good, thank you,” she smiled, amused, adjusting her posture. “So, I called you today to talk about your son, Tommy,” as the subject switched, her expression did too, turning out more serious. 

Oh God. Already?

“Is… Everything alright? With him?” 

“Well…”

Oh no.

“Tommy has been… a bit of disturbance lately.”

Oh n- Wait.

“What do you mean?” he inquiries, frowning, scooching his chair closer to the table. Well, now he’s confused. Ranboo said Tommy is liked by everyone - and he thought everyone meant even the workers from school. 

And he doesn’t lie when saying the kid is a sweetheart.

“Well, Tommy is definitely a sweetheart, always trying to help other kids… However, recently- no, sorry- since the start he’s being overly talkative. Moving around too much, I should say,” she explains, putting down her glasses on the table. She gathers a folder, opening it in a specific section, pulling out a paper. 

“Um, well, I already talked to school about it, that he might has ADHD and to offer acco-”

“See here?” she cuts him, showing the paper full of notes. “Full of registrations of him distracting his classmates and disturbing my classes.”

Squinting, the person can read: ‘(...) interrupted middle explanation, starting to mock me with the subject. Disrespectful, most times not raising his hand. (...) does a lot of noise, third detention of the month (...) can’t sit still, always getting up (...) have to confiscate his phone multiple times so he’ll do works (most of the times don’t work) (...)’

Huh.

“Sorry, what classes do you give him?”

“Physics.”

Huh.

Technoblade clears his throat.

“As I was saying later- he might have ADHD and I already talked to the school about it to see the accommodations. Ms. Trixtin guaranteed me the message was given out to the teachers?” he shifts on the chair, suddenly uncomfortable with how the dots are connecting inside his head. 

“That's what I wanted to talk about,” she started and, oh boy, he’s not like how it started. “Did you consider sending him to a special school?”

A few seconds in silence.

“I’m… Sorry?”

Ms. Fernandes sighed.

“Well, you see, our school isn’t the type to accommodate this type of people. We’re unused to it and we- he would probably be having a better time in another school.”

Silence, again.

Techno is, in this moment, considering murder.

He isn’t an aggressive person, contrary to popular belief. He has scars, muscles and the height to be someone scary and a good fighter, but- he’s simply not… It. Technoblade likes the silence, the calmness and ignoring people when they’re trying to argue. Fighting is with Wilbur, to be honest - the man is good with words and punches.

However, right now? It’s not going to be the first punch of his life, but it’ll definitely be the first parenthood one. 

Sighing, the pink haired screams for himself to not get up and straight up curse at her the most fucked up shit he can muster.

“Why are you talking like he’s a- a different species, ma’am?” he exasperates, brows still furrowed. The woman is quick to blush, resting her back against the chair and raising her hands in defense. 

“W-Well, is not that. It’s just- I’m sorry, sir, but your son is a re-”

That’s enough for him.

Automatically, the person raises his hand, a gesture to her to stop talking before she says the goddamn word. Thank God, the teacher shuts up. He closes his eyes. Take a deep breath. Release it. Take another one. Release it, then, opening his eyes.

“You do not talk like that about my son,” he says, voice tight, holding back his anger and composure. “You should be ashamed of yourself for saying things like that,” he spits the word with gusto, not feeling even a bit of regret. 

The human hates how much he relates to this. How much he their family had to go through that, sometimes, he thought that maybe he’s really doing it on purpose - somewhere he’s just faking it. He’s glad Phil was there for him, and he’ll be glad to be there for Tommy too.

The woman seems to not know if she feels embarrassed or shocked.

“Your school craves for inclusion and is against of bullying or any kind of discrimination. So- excuse me for my language- but why the hell are you trying to exclude my son from your school? Because you can’t adjust to him? Or that he doesn’t adjust to you?” 

“S-Sir, that’s not it-”

“So please, tell me what you truly meant, then. I want to hear,” gesturing with his hand, he rests his back against the chair, trying to show a relaxed body language. 

Silence.

She clears her throat.

“So?”

She averts eye contact. A sigh comes from the human. 

“Did you know that physics is his favorite subject?” looking away, the pink haired observes the room, especially the books in the bookcase. They’re full of physics-related things, similar titles. She hums. “He likes to talk about it. Sometimes gets too excited and interrupts. Does that to me all the time,” he smiles fondly.

She is silent. Good for her.

“You should be happy someone is so willing to participate in your classes,” his hands clench together in a grip. “It’s not that you teachers always search for? For people willing to answer your questions and talk to you during classes?” Ms. Fernandes sighs.

“Definitely, sir.”

“Why are you treating him differently, then?”

Silence again. Seems like it’s suffocating rather than zoning their ears. It leaves a bitter taste in the back of his tongue, like ash or something worse. The teacher still doesn’t meet his eyes, cheeks red.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Technoblade sighs, passing a hand through his face in frustration. 

“I will be contacting Ms. Trixting about this,” he gets up, resting his jacket on his arm. “I’m deeply disappointed with you for discriminating my son for something he doesn’t have control of. You’re supposed to accommodate your students; it doesn't matter if they are ‘special’ or not,” there’s a little bit of silence as he waits for her to maybe share eye contact. It doesn’t happen. Technoblade sighs. “Sincerely hope you’ll learn for the sake of your next students.”

Approaching the door, he turns around a final time. The woman is looking at her hands, seeming embarrassed.

“Have a good night, Ms. Fernandez.”

He leaves the room.

Later that night, when he gets home with the dinner table full of food and Tommy shouting something about how he and Phil cooked everything, he sighs. Wilbur is complaining he helped too and Tommy, in his classical fashion, denies everything and offends the man all he can. Phil just laughs as he puts the plates on the table.

The person stays a few seconds there, staring, baking in the familiarity. The bitter taste, his heavy heart and turbulent mind are, soon, being washed away with the love impregnating the air. 

The first thing he does is to go to the kid and give him a tight hug, even lifting him off the floor. Awkwardly, the teenager retributes.

“Techno?” he murmurs, confused.

A minute probably passes. Tommy gives little taps on his back, being awkward as ever as if he isn’t used to giving people hugs. 

One more sigh and, finally, with a big kiss on his forehead, he lets him go. The teenager is a little bit flushed, yet still not understanding. Technoblade simply smiles and messes with his hair.

“Didn’t you send me a message this morning talking about the blackhole that ate a star?” the catshifter is quick to perk up, beaming and rambling loudly about how cool the images were, explaining the whole phenomena as Phil gives helpful information here and there. They move on from the strange scene.

As he eats dinner with his family, with the usual spark Tommy has, he’s more than happy to learn more about the Butterfly effect.