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It was a peculiar thing, Techno had decided, to be able to know with complete certainty that your father failed you.
He was sat on a dyed leather couch, the smell of which betrayed it as newly purchased. The room, similarly, was covered in photos, soft blankets and thick rugs, the illusion of a well-loved family home, yet receipts for wall paint still sat on the fireplace ledge, papered with ads for the parent companies newest venture - real estate, somehow. The bear mascot grinned symmetrically, eerily similar to the way the fireplace was perfectly square, no hint of ash.
It was like some perversion of his childhood home, and as he turned his eyes away from the décor and back to the crawling toddlers wrestling over a plush sword, he begrudgingly admitted he was wrong.
This wasn't a copy of his childhood home. This was the real thing, authentic in a way his upbringing had never been. This was Phil, caring for children who were innocent and whole, giving them the world with a soft smile, spending hundreds of emeralds on professionally made furniture that they would wear down as they grew. This was maturity, parenthood, nurturing. His childhood...
"Mate?" Phil murmured from his seat on an armchair, looking dishevelled. Techno's ears flicked with slight irritation at the interruption, before softening at the weariness in the mans face. Techno's- his- the kids were still rowdy, faces smeared with mango, and Techno knew what Phil was asking without him needing to say a word.
"I've got them, Phil," he bared his teeth in a grin, satisfied by the click of tusks on gold as he did. "I've gone through too much to be defeated by some hatchlings trying to dodge bath time." Phil chuckled, and rose slowly, wrinkles by his eyes not quite disappearing as he relaxed.
The man was aging. Crow's feet and everything. Ha.
"Thanks, Tech," he said, "They're- well, I didn't expect kids to be this much work." After a beat, his words seemed to register, and he rushed to correct himself. "Not, not that you-"
"Dad." Techno interrupted firmly. "It's okay. Go to sleep. You can trust me." He did not flinch. He did not stammer when he said 'dad'. His eyes did not flicker to the kids.
Chayanne had turned to them at some point, a dusting of thin blond hair flicking with his head as he turned from Techno to Phil, and back again. Tallulah hadn't seemed to have heard, and he filed that away. God knows it'd taken far too long for Phil to notice Techno'd needed glasses. Better to get stuff checked early.
"Pa?" He asked, nudging his sister, who spun with surprise at the changes in the room.
Phil smiled, and kneeled in front of them. "I'm getting real sleepy, so Techno will be helping you get ready for bed, 'kay?" He glanced to said man, looking mildly apologetic, as Tallulah's face crumpled in disgust. "I know Lu, it sucks. But you need to keep your body clean. Listen to your... big brother? Techno. Listen to Techno. Be good."
He squeezed their shoulders, and turned back to Techno, nodded, and left the room, leaving him with his siblings. Apparently.
He grabbed Chayanne, then Tallulah, heaved one over each shoulder ignoring the giggles and squeals, and stomped his way to the bathroom. His siblings.
It wasn't that he didn't want Chay and Lulah to be his siblings, he considered as they finally got into the bath. He cared about them, wanted to protect them - maybe it was his heritage, their sparkling scaly wings tickling the piglin instincts, but it was more they were so small, and so vulnerable to the horrors of the world.
(Maybe it was because a part of him felt like he failed his other little sibling. He was a kid then, though. If anything, it was on Phil for leaving Tommy nobody to come to apart from his unstable, impulsive, murderous brother.)
Anyway, he already saw himself reflected in Chayanne's green thumb and Tallulah's playfighting, Tommy's face reflected in their risk taking and sweet tooths.
If he was honest, that was the actual problem.
Before, he could justify Phil's actions. He had been young - barely 19, suddenly caring for a 7-year-old human trafficking victim with blood in his teeth and a mangy 3-year-old raccoon boy who had sharp teeth and a shoddily docked tail. Maybe he wasn't the parenting type - maybe he just didn't know better, maybe he thought that he was doing a good job. Maybe that's why he never apologised. Maybe that's why he never came to the funeral.
But now? Now he had two babies in front of him, their giggly splashing as they played with their hand-painted rubber allays glaring evidence that Phil had the capacity to be patient, caring, gentle, a teacher and a father and a safe haven, not just a half hearted guardian who would disappear for months and then return with stern criticism over their fighting stances and act disappointed when they couldn't do things he'd never bothered to teach. It wasn't fair.
Techno swallowed tightly, and glanced away from the kids for a second. He was a goddamn adult, 26 next year, and he wasn't so naive as to still be preoccupied with fairness. Besides, harbouring jealousy towards toddlers was frankly pathetic. They couldn't help it if their dad pretended his first batch of kids didn't exist. He'd be surprised if they even knew Tommy existed. Phil sure as hell didn't mention him around Techno, so why would he talk to the kids about him?
"Fuck," he muttered, and immediately regretted it as Chayanne started fake-gasping, Tallulah joining him despite the confusion clear in her eyes.
Yeah, screw his crumbling relationship with Phil. He needed to tell that man to get his daughter some hearing aids.
"Wha' would the potatoes think, Tech-noh?" Chayanne jeered. It- well, it didn't really make sense, but Techno gasped anyway.
Tallulah covered her mouth to hide her giggles. "You'll be banished to fve Nefver for fvat."
"Oh really?" He asked, standing up and grabbing two towels - they had hoods on them, with the faces of a duck and a tortoise on each. Making sure to angle his shiniest earring to the kids, he declared, "I rule the Nether!"
Chay huffed, while Tallulah eyed the jewel a little too closely. Dragon hybrids, right. He should probably reduce the treasure next time he visits - being hoarded by sticky children was not in his ideal future. But then again, neither was living with the knowledge your life was a trial run for your absent father so he can live out domestic bliss with kids who will actually be loved.
Shit. Being jealous of children was cringe. Techno was not cringe. He had to stop. Immediately.
Somehow Chayanne and Tallulah looked even wetter after using the towels, so, with a heavy sigh, he dismissed his cringy thoughts and returned to searching for a spare towel, already dreading how long his cape would take to dry when the inevitable happens.
Techno wrestled them into pyjamas, checked the mob switch while they brushed their teeth, rebrushed their teeth when he noticed mango still stuck in the gums, gently poked some fangs Tallulah insisted were loose, let his tusks be hung off of, and finally tucked them in. A quick lie about his literacy got him out of a bedtime story - he knew how many featured a glorified version of him, and resented Phil's dumb tales of his children's success, dripping with conditional love and an emphasis on strength.
The door shut.
He went to his room.
He took off and lay out all his piercings on the vanity.
He looked in the mirror.
He looked at cracked skin and red eyes. He looked at strong shoulders and chipped tusks. He looked at neat hair and guarded expressions.
Technoblade felt the overwhelming urge to scream.