Chapter Text
Important.
He was so important, and yet, Techno made it a goal to stay as far away from him as possible.
He hurt people, most of all him , so why would he get close? It would only hurt them both in the end. He couldn’t and shouldn’t try and indulge himself this time - he could not make the shots.
It was dark outside, and Techno was alone.
Alone enough to ponder, to start drifting. His thoughts were acting up, nearly as loud as the voices, whispering inane sayings and phrases. He thought about how, perhaps, he could hold him, hug him, tell him everything was okay - apologize for everything he’s ever done. Techno wanted to give him everything he deserved.
Even if what he deserved was so much more than himself.
When he looked up back at the window, it was morning, the sun beaming brightly into his face with no remorse, no promise of a new day, a new start - just a promise of forever unchanging ways, continuing to relentlessly bear down on him.
Techno grabbed his cape and headed out, only to find someone blocking the door.
Him .
Almost immediately, the cold metal of a sword was pressed to his neck, the hand bearing it shaking near uncontrollably. All the tension and anxiety that coursed through Techno’s body faded into a bittersweet fondness; even with the most power hungry eyes framed by the most radiant faces, Quackity couldn’t help but feel fear.
He hesitated, second-guessing his moves, his tactics, his approaches. His heart was frail despite his rigid stance, his emotions were loose despite his even expression, his faith in others was too full despite the number of times he’d been dropped and cracked and shattered by them all.
It was stupid, it was foolish , it was positively intoxicating - god did Techno want him to trust him.
Not a word was uttered for a moment before the blade pressed ever so closer to the skin of his throat, a line of crimson touching the pale expanse of his throat.
“You fucker ,” Quackity hissed, his breath heavy and his eyes blazing, a fiery anger and determination Techno had seen only once before.
Like a coward, Techno averted his gaze, shivering at the cold reminder of the ill-timed fate of Quackity’s death - a sharp blow to the face, forever damaging his complexion, and whatever hopes Techno had of fixing their relationship.
He let himself quickly sneak a glance at the ugly scar drawn from Quackity’s chin to his eye, the voices making themselves louder at the presence of the wound. He was half tempted to bring his hand up, to gently smooth his thumb over it, to try and convince Quackity the scar had no value on his worth.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he listened patiently, feigning boredom as he watched the other with a blank expression. “What are you doing here, Quackity?”
Techno knew, of course he did - Quackity was a simple person with simple goals and a more than complicated past, he wanted revenge, he wanted to get back - like Techno owed him something. There was something about the way he stood, however, that gave the impression that, perhaps, Quackity was starting to falter.
With a slow hand, Techno wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword, curling over Quackity’s cold, steadily trembling hands. He ignored the flare of heat that ignited at the contact and focused on controlling his grip, making sure it wasn’t too tight, nor too loose.
As expected, Quackity tried to push or to pull the afronting weapon away from Techno’s person, but the latter stayed steady, keeping the sword in place, his muscles bunching up in concentration.
He winced - mostly out of surprise - when Quackity threw a punch with his free hand, trying to weaken the grasp on his sword. It took the man 10 tries before he realized it was futile.
Techno reached over to pin the other hand still, but was kicked promptly before, the motion getting a soft chuff out of him at the abruptness of it. When he looked down, he caught the desperation that started to sink in on Quackity’s face.
He shouted, he punched, he clawed, he kicked, he bit , and Techno stayed still, enduring the barrage of assaults.
It hurt to watch Quackity going through an inane cycle of grief, as if being in Techno’s presence brought him down to the lowest of lows.
It was all the more reason for Techno to stay away.
There was a frustrated yell that snapped him out of his stupor and he looked down, watching as Quackity gasped for air, as if he had just ran a marathon. His shoulders were bunched up, yet his posture was sunken, wings shaking beside his frame. Only when Techno caught the stray sniffle did he realize Quackity was crying .
It was loud, brazen, crying. Raw enough to tear Techno from his concentrated calm, his fingers loosening just a little bit as Quackity struggled to keep himself up.
“YOU BASTARD!” he screamed, using his offhand to hit Techno’s chest with an unsurprising amount of weakness.
“Let me go, let me go right fucking now,” Quackity growled, looking up long enough for Techno to take in the disheveled mess of a man in front of him.
Tears cascaded down his face, his expression bunched up like wires were pulling him taut. He let out a sob and hunched back over, banging his head onto Techno’s body with another loud cry.
Fueled by the sheer shock and hurt Techno felt watching this scene unfold, he dropped his hand, vaguely registering the dull ‘clunk’ of the sword hitting the snow.
He held his hands out quickly as Quackity’s body limped, almost falling without the support of the sword, but suddenly, the man surged, fists bunching up in Techno’s tunic.
“WHY WON’T YOU FIGHT ME?!” he yelled, his face mere inches away from Techno’s.
“FIGHT ME GODDAMMIT!”
Everything in Quackity’s body screamed ‘hurt me, kill me, make me feel the pain’, and Techno couldn’t stop the pity that crept onto his face.
How long had Quackity gone on convinced he deserved to feel this sort of misery?
And though he could feel the heavy breaths being exhaled against his cheek and he could feel the fury smoldering behind those beautiful eyes, but still, he carefully brought his hands around Quackity’s wrists, pulling his fingers away from the now creased fabric of his shirt.
There was a picture of dull shock that seemed to be frozen on Quackity’s face, almost like he watched the whole world shatter before his eyes, everything he’d ever known, destroyed.
And perhaps it was like that.
The tears started flowing again, more earnestly this time. He wretched a hand away from Techno’s grasp and drew his hood over his eyes, pulling it down furiously to cover his tears, to cover his shame, his humanity .
Techno did the only thing he thought he could do.
Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around Quackity, pulling him closer and resting his chin on the top of his head, embracing him as wholeheartedly as he could muster.
All was silent except for the muffled noises of anguished cries and whimpers.
When it slowly stopped - and Quackity made no move to push Techno away - the taller cleared his throat, quietly, calmly.
“I’m sorry.”
And while he said it in true earnesty, he knew it meant next to nothing to the man tucked away in his arms. How could it be when Techno killed Quackity’s dreams, hopes, relationships, life? All that could be repaid was a simple apology.
A small shaking erupted from the figure below him, and Techno feared he made the situation worse, but then, a sound broke out.
A laugh.
It was unhinged and rapturous, overtaking anything and everything with no means to stop. Techno gazed down in confusion, watching as Quackity slowly lost his marbles as he giggled nonsensically into his now soaked tunic. The noise was wet and mingled with the sobs that had made their way out earlier, the situation confuzzling Technoblade even moreso.
When it died down, he looked up at Techno, eyes glittering from tears and face red from laughing.
“I fucking hate you.”
For all it was worth, Techno didn’t feel the slightest bit perturbed by the statement, huffing softly.
He felt another tug on his lapels by an insistent hand and he prepared himself for another beating-
But it didn’t come.
Instead, he felt lips smash into his, warmth seeping into his body the minute he felt Quackity on him.
It was exhilarating, it was passionate, it was absolutely horrifying .
Quackity pulled away before Techno could push him away, the smaller looking wide-eyed.
There was another laugh - this one disbelieving and almost near as hysterical as the last bout - then Quackity thumped his head hard into Techno’s chest, earning a wheeze.
“Why did I do that?” came a choked whisper, Quackity’s voice breaking in the last syllable.
Techno didn’t have an answer, and resorted to giving a soft pat in return, a sort of condolence, afterall, he himself had no idea what he was doing either, his head reeling from the soft embrace of Quackity’s kiss.
Considering all things, he was expecting the spectacle to be more dramatic , memorable. Instead he was left feeling slightly more exhilarated than usual, his heart beating quicker and his cheeks flushed with growing disbelief.
It took him a moment to remember the figure in his arms, currently still and silent. Techno thought for a moment, then slowly put a hand on his head, giving it a soft pat.
As expected, Quackity stirred, looking up at Technoblade with confused eyes, his expression near unreadable; there were so many emotions playing out at the same time and they clashed in a flurry of bright light and dark ash. Quackity looked out of his area, confused, scared, tired - in his defense, Techno was too.
Even in his inexperience, the piglin wanted to comfort him, to show him it wasn’t too bad a thing, to be confused, and scared, and tired.
“Why?” came the one uttered word from the man slumped below. Techno all but winced at the sullenness of his tone, the pure emptiness that accompanied his words.
Techno couldn’t answer that question either. But, he did bring his calloused hands over to cup Quackity’s face, tilting him upward to meet his gaze.
His eyes were dull, gone was the raging inferno that graced his features; Techno wanted some of that anger back, something that was more than nothing. He continued to hold his gaze, however, his thumb doing what he pondered about doing since the beginning of their encounter: slowly brush his thumb over the lining of the jagged scar on Quackity’s face.
There was a sharp intake of breath, then a shuddering sigh. Quackity seemed conflicted, leaning into and yet, leaning as far away as he could from Techno’s palm. Obediently, Techno stayed still, letting the other do what he wanted with himself.
Quackity seemed to be at war with himself, gritting his teeth and scrunching up his face as he tried to decide what he wanted - if he wanted anything. But after a while passed, he slowly sunk into Techno’s hands, looking down as he tried to bury himself in them.
Another jolt of fondness swam through Techno’s body, his head dizzy with the given trust he had just received. He let his thumb brush across his skin once more, giving a small chuff.
“Why are you so hard to hate?” Quackity asked, voice raspy.
As always, Techno didn’t have the answers he was looking for, and so he slowly leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the other’s forehead, trying his best to answer without knowing.
Quackity’s breath hitched and he sighed, sniffling a bit. He used his arms to reach up and grab the linings of Techno’s cape, wrapping them around himself. “Can we head inside?” he croaked.
Logically, Techno could see it was never a good idea to let your enemy reside anywhere near his house - he had learned after his incident with Tommy - but how could he deny Quackity at his lowest? At his most vulnerable? He wasn’t certain on how to pinpoint Quackity’s accuracy in acting, but he doubted their whole meltdown was a show; like he said, Quackity was a simple man with simple goals.
And so Techno stepped aside and let Quackity into the cabin, closing the door behind him before leading him up to the main room.
Surprisingly, Quackity made no move to touch anything, simply situating himself on the floor and curling up, back pressed against a chest.
Without a second thought, Techno unclasped his cloak, dropping it over the other’s shoulders. “Here,” he uttered quietly.
Another blur of emotions passed on Quackity’s face, but he kept the cloak wrapped around him, burying his nose into the fur.
It was quiet, near unbearably so. The voices had made themselves scarce, and whatever liveliness that filled his base was no longer present; there was only silence.
Technoblade wasn’t the best with words, or with people, and he juggled the options in his mind as he tried to resolve the tense quiet that spread across the house. He stumbled over to Quackity, sitting down beside him as casually as he could.
“Hey,” he said, a little awkwardly.
The statement warranted a laugh apparently and Quackity gave a little snort, laughing into his fist. “You’re so weird,” he said between soft wheezes, coughing a bit after his little fit.
Techno wasn’t sure what he did, but he was glad to see Quackity showing a little more of that brightness and energy he did so often (even if it was at the expense of Techno’s steadily crumbling dignity).
They settled back into silence and slowly, Techno felt a weight on his shoulder. He turned his head over, ear flicking as he saw the tired and soft expression of Quackity, leaning on his arm while blinking blearily. With the sun high in the sky and the vibrant, yellow rays framing his face perfectly, Techno wanted to capture this moment and keep it preserved for as long as he could, taking in everything that was Quackity .
Briefly, he wondered how he got here.
An hour ago he was held at sword point, being threatened by a perpetrator as intimidating as an alleycat. Now he was sharing warmth with said perpetrator, the man sleepily leaning on him with an unlimited amount of trust that couldn’t be healthy to give up.
Techno wanted Quackity to take care of himself more than anything. The trust he was giving out was near addictive, something Techno would take in constantly and keep coming back to, but to watch as Quackity gave almost everything away only to get nothing in return hurt .
But, Techno would never do that.
Techno wouldn’t take and give nothing back, he wouldn’t grab what he wanted and leave without a word, he wouldn’t treat Quackity as anything less than the person he was.
He wouldn’t, never.
“What was that out there?” Techno willed himself to ask, turning to Quackity with a serious, thoughtful expression, open to any answers he was going to get.
But Quackity seemed intent on pretending like nothing ever happened, turning his face the other way and staring down at his muddy boots.
“Nothing,” came his response. “None of that ever happened.”
Denial was something Techno was familiar with - they were a close friend, constantly looming behind him and creating a safe place from reality should he need it. Now they just seemed like a draining leech, slowly sapping out the life of a person and leaving a husk of an empty shell in its steed. Phil helped him resist giving in to false timelines and happy lies, but who helped Quackity? As far as Techno was concerned, Quackity had no one now.
“I’m not an expert at this,” Techno started out, a soft hum. “But I think you should come to terms with a few things before you can move on, Quackity.”
He didn’t miss the shiver the man made when his name fell from Techno’s lips; the thought made his cheeks flame.
“What’s the point?” grumbled the other, his voice half-muffled by the fabric of Techno’s shirt. He squirmed a bit, as if trying to get comfortable in this weird position of leaning.
Techno shrugged. “Maybe it’ll hurt less later.”
He left the line to sink in, dousing back into the comfortable silence that now fell onto them like a spray of nice rain rather than stifling, thick, snow.
Quackity started shifting again, moving closer and closer to Technoblade ever so slightly. The latter kept still, his ears the only thing that betrayed his emotions - his feelings on the matter before him.
Then, oh so abruptly, Quackity dropped himself onto Techno’s lap, seeming completely content with staying put in this new spot. He held his head up as if he was entitled to this spot, and Techno couldn’t disagree with him there.
Quackity’s back pressed against his chest, Techno feeling the outline of his wings from beneath the cloak. He made himself as still as possible, keeping his posture perfect - near akin to a throne. Silently, he told himself ‘it's what he deserves’.
Quackity deserved much more.
The movement resumed once more and Technoblade was now met, face-to-face with the stunning thing in his lap, his eyes mischievous, and also open, wanting. He looked as if he had control of the situation, but his movements proved that he was just as uneasy and unsure as Techno was.
A hand rested on Techno’s forearm, simply laying there with no other intent or purpose. Such an innocent touch, and yet, Techno couldn’t stop his face from flushing, heat prickling at his cheeks and his ears.
Again he wondered how he got here, the thought almost vanishing with another hand rested on his shoulder.
Then Quackity leaned in, closer. Techno could near taste the breath on his skin, his gaze focused intensely on the dark irises staring back at him.
This wasn’t right.
Techno moved away, gently pushing the man in front of him back down, giving an uneasy laugh.
“Slow down there,” he said, near mumbling. He looked away to avoid seeing the rather disappointed look that appeared for a second on Quackity’s face, before eventually fading into a sort of playful expression.
“Yeesh, you aren’t used to this, are you?” Quackity chirped, trying to laugh off the situation.
Denial again.
Techno blanched in silent horror as he realized his unconscious actions. He was indulging - indulging himself when Quackity wasn’t in the right mindset.
He did the exact thing he told himself he wouldn’t do.
As quickly as he could, he got Quackity off his lap and stood up, brushing off his tunic. “So, uh-” he got out, heading over to a chest to busy himself with something - anything . “You hungry?”
He handed Quackity a few gapples, careful not to hand over the enchanted ones by mistake in his haste. The fruit were accepted hastily, a confuzzled face accompanying them, but Quackity didn’t say anything, resorting to eating sulkily to relay his feelings.
Techno rubbed his face tiredly, sighing into his palms with his head turned upwards towards the ceiling. He blinked a couple of times and muttered random encouraging words to him - ones he’d hear Phil tell him on numerous occasions - before he faced Quackity once more.
“Look, Quackity,” he started off, his throat already beginning to seize up. “You’re... nice , a nice guy, and I’m sure many other people think so, but I don’t think...you’re right - you’re right, with me.”
It was choppy, it was awkward, and Techno was mortified, his face flushing further from embarrassment.
He shook his head, replaying the encouraging words. “Wh-what I mean is, you’re not in the right mindset right now, I mean, you came to my house trying to kill me and then you kissed me - I mean, I don’t think people do that, y’know?”
Dammit, this was stupid, he was stupid.
Thankfully, Quackity didn’t laugh, opting instead for a subdued look. He blinked up at Techno, swallowing the last of the apple in his hand.
“I know I’m fucked up Techno.”
Panic bubbled up in Techno’s chest like bile and he firmly shook his head. “No! No, you’re not fucked up Quackity-”
“It’s true - you were the one telling me to come to terms with things, right? Well I’m coming terms with the fact that I’m fucked. Up.” Quackity stood up, jaw set firmly. “I know I’m broken Technoblade, you think I don’t know? I’ve known since Pogtopia, since Schlatt, since Dream, since you! ”
“I’m messed up, I’ve hurt so many people and I’ve done so many shitty things, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try and fix it! I’ve tried , Techno, and all I did was make things worse!” He bunched his fists up, chest heaving.
“So why bother? Why reopen old wounds when I can keep the bandage on?” he asked, anger and frustration gracing his features again. “Why be the broken Quackity when I can be the newly painted one?”
Techno bit his lip, stopping himself from reaching out again to comfort him. He kept his arm firmly by his waist. “If you thought that to be true you wouldn’t have come here today, would you?”
Quackity sneered, his scar twisting into an unsightly position. “I came here to end the memory of that broken shell of me, Techno - I came here because you’re the last thing I needed to get rid of me.”
“You’re the final reminder of that weak, pathetic, shattered shit of a man that did nothing for himself and got nothing in return,” Quackity spat, his wings flaring out, as if trying to make himself bigger, more menacing.
Or to shield himself, give the illusion of confidence when he was uncertain.
Techno breathed in slowly, his ear flicking beside his face. “You’re damaged, but not broken.”
Quackity started a retort but Techno stopped him with a sharp gaze and a frown. “You’ve spent so much time convincing yourself that you meant nothing and that everyone sees you that way, and yet I see no proof of that anywhere, Quackity.”
“You’ve stuck yourself in this hole of despair and you sit at the bottom, ignorantly ignoring the ladder right beside you because you believe you’re not deserving of the light.” Techno steadily made his way over to Quackity, crossing over to him with three long strides. “But I don’t see it that way, not when you’ve died for your country, fought for what you’ve believed in and protected your friends.”
“You’re more than worthy of deserving the light, Quackity, and I think you need to see that first before you declare yourself the keeper of all miseries and the killer of past mistakes.”
Quackity looked down, almost ashamed of his actions. Techno knew, somewhere, deep down, Quackity still refuted his claims, but he seemed to be relenting to his words now, and that was a start.
He already predicted the man’s movements, stopping his leaning head with a hand and a sharp push back up.
“Go get some rest, Quackity, you need it,” he said earnestly, quirking a smallest and tenderest of smiles; he’d only ever reserve it for Quackity.
He pulled out a bed, settling it in the middle of the room and coaxing the frail companion into it, tucking him in before taking back his cloak.
Until a hand gripped the fabric tightly, pulling against him. “Let me keep it,” Quackity all but demanded.
At the end of the day, Technoblade still couldn’t deny him what he wanted, not with those eyes and his stupid earnesty.
He let Quackity grab a hold of a cloak and curl up in it before eventually falling asleep, looking more peaceful than he did all day.
Techno sighed and gently ran his fingers through the other’s hair, a sort of domestic adoration filling his chest, then shook his head. There was a time for pining, and now was not one of them.
He looked away before he could get lulled by the vision of Quackity resting peacefully and hurried out his door as silently as he could.