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Tommy knows it's unusual for Techno to be hibernating this early.
He really shouldn't disturb a man neck-deep into sleep. But Tommy needs his golden apples, and he doesn't know where Techno stores them. He's learned not to rummage through another person's chests, else that will earn him a week without any food at all. (Not that Techno would know if he sneaks into the kitchen..no. No. No. He should not test his brother's limits, even if he’d sworn off violence, even if he promised peace.)
Tommy enters the room hastily. And there he stared at the feared warrior laying on his bed silently, not a single limb moving underneath the mound of wooly blankets atop his body rising with every soft, slow inhale.
Even beneath the heavy mountain Techno has made of his bed, he still shuddered. Tommy wonders whether the tightly sealed gaps of the windows and the scintillating pumpkin-scented candles and the subdued crackling of the fireplace aren't enough to keep the piglin hybrid warm.
Oftentimes, whenever Tommy visits the Nether, he'd feel the fire pierce his skin the moment he steps into the portal. Of course Netherborns would find it typical, stepping into the flames and smelting gold with their bare hands, but to Tommy, it was like being steamed alive. So he avoids the Nether as much as he can. That's why he doesn't understand why in Prime Techno lives in the tundra of all places. Tommy also doesn't get why Techno tries to suppress his instincts and force a delay on his hibernation cycle when all it does is kick him in the stomach with a burning fatigue.
"Psst,” Tommy whispers. "Are you awake?"
Techno shifts grudgingly. "No"
"You are a dumbass for moving to this place. Winter is literally permanent here, you masochistic retired bitch."
Techno pulls the sheets from Tommy’s grasp and buries his face in them. "Go away," he groans.
"Is it a crime to spend time with you now?" Tommy complains.
“Yes.”
"Good!" Tommy clasps his hands together. "This is why they call me the big man delinquent.”
Big man delinquent? "That's an oxymoron."
"The fuck is an oxymoron?"
Techno laughs dryly. "You wouldn't know, child."
“I hate you,” Tommy crosses his arms bitterly. "Start thanking Prime because the level of my patience is very high. You know I can fully kick your arse right now, right?”
"Wrong."
"Wrong?"
Tommy is snatched from his seat and gets dragged into the blankets by his brother. Legs thrashing continuously in great, futile effort to squirm his way out of the piglin hybrid's hold. (He's probably delirious because he wouldn't be caught dead doing this, and that's why Tommy enjoys it while it lasts.)
"You- let me go!" he screams straight into the older's ear. "Now!" (Despite his feigned pleading, Tommy wishes his brother would still make him stay.)
"Nah,” Techno shakes his head. "I'd prefer not to."
"Will you admit to being a clingy bastard?"
"Do not- I am not clingy. I am far from clingy."
"You're the exact definition of clingy,” Tommy argues. “But I will forgive you for that if you tell me where your golden apples are. I need them, and I mean a lot of them. And hey! I know what you're gonna say, you're going to accuse me of being addicted to them, well, at least I don't work at a hotdog van. Think of it like this, you love potatoes, I love golden apples. It's not an obsession, it's a lifestyle. So please please please please please tell me which chest you store them in. Please? Techno?”
Tommy faces his brother. He's fast asleep, expression as mellow as the day Tommy met him, except there were fewer scars and lesser guilty grudges.
“Yeah, you better sleep well,” he mumbles. “When you wake up, all your possessions will be gone,” he adds jokingly.
Techno doesn't move a muscle, maybe it's because he had fallen straight into the chasmic cracks of sleep, or maybe it's because he knows Tommy won't be leaving this room until Phil comes back anyway.
The boy would be lowered into his grave before Philza Minecraft witnesses him become attached to his older brother like a needy kid. Again.
Techno chuffs, bringing Tommy out of his internalised, practiced symposiums on what excuses he's going to tell Phil if he comes home early.
“This is all your fault,” Tommy glares at Techno.
The piglin hybrid makes a barely-audible grunt. It's been years since Tommy heard his brother utter a word or noise instinctually.
And while Tommy hardly understands Piglin, he knows exactly what Techno had muttered, since he's heard these things during his younger days over and over.
Sounder. Warm. Sleep. Safe.
Tommy rolls his eyes fondly and lets his own eyelids drift shut.
It was dead quiet when Phil arrived home. The embers had begun to die out, and the sun was vanishing into the night sky.
Tommy is nowhere to be found. Wings perched up, he searched for the boy in panic—Techno had specifically asked him to watch over Tommy while he hibernates. And it's too dangerous of a world for him to venture alone.
His heart instantly stopped racing when he found two figures bundled up in a cradle of duvets.
Phil snaps a photo of them for obvious future blackmail.
Chuckling to himself, he tiptoes to door, floorboards creaking beneath his steps.
“Phil,” a gravelly voice calls him.
He faces Techno, half-awake from his predisposed slumber. “Oh. Hi, mate. You're up?”
“Not really,” Techno waves him off lazily.
“You should probably go back to sleep,” Phil suggests.
“I mean, I've got no other choice, so..” Techno yawns. “And there's this child in my way,” he narrows his eyes at Tommy who had fallen fast asleep, and is now drooling on his pillow.
“In your way..sure,” Phil snorts. Hibernation side-effects are one of the only things his best friend cannot fight.
His sword is useless, especially when his arm is being used as a headrest.
Perhaps Techno could get used to this for a couple more months.