Archive of Our Own ^beta

Technoblade and Philza checked off ‘World Domination’ about a month ago. The Antarctic Empire dictated the rest of the world; no one dared to challenge the duo. They were an unmovable force. 

Technoblade made massacres look like a choreographed and practiced ballet. He moved with grace, his feet only taking calculated and needed steps. He was one with the twin swords he kept on his hip. They were a force to be reckoned with. 

While Technoblade was known for being the bloodier, more violent half, Philza wasn’t someone to overlook. His large wings, darker than the midnight sky, made it easy for him to pick off his enemies. Sometimes, for no purpose other than entertainment, he’d see how high he could carry someone before they couldn’t breathe. Other times, he’d drop them to see what shape they made when they hit the ground. He toyed with his victims far more than Technoblade. 

He, too, could clear battlefields alone. He’d stained plains red and left a wake of blood in the snow surrounding their empire. He placed countless traps across their land. The blood on his hands grew without him having to lift a feather.

Anyone in their right mind knew to fear Technoblade and Philza. The Blood God and The Angel of Death.

So, when the news of their partnership spread, the world’s fate was sealed. The world was in their hands. The war was over before it could begin. 

Admittedly, conquering the world became boring after a while. There wasn’t much of a resistance, much to Techno’s displeasure. Most people submitted instantly. And if they didn’t, the two would wipe out their village to send a message.

Techno hoped people would try and challenge them. He enjoyed making an example of fools. Phil made their deaths glamorous and dreadfully long. Techno would only drag it out if he had nothing better to do. Currently, he had nothing better to do. 

He and Phil were checking the walls surrounding their palace as they did most mornings. Only a handful of people dared to come within a hundred miles of the walls. None of them made it inside alive.

Still, it didn’t hurt to be extra safe. 

(If we’re going to be honest, they had no concerns about their security. It just gave them something to do besides sitting around).

Phil was in the skies, a dark shadow following Techno on the ground. He circled a few times before landing beside Techno gracefully. 

“There’s nothin’ out there, mate,” he informed, shaking his wings out. A few loose feathers fell into the snow. They’d be long forgotten about and quickly covered by a new layer of ice and snow. The pair continued walking. 

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Techno huffed, tugging his cape closer. Even though he was used to the cold, it was some negative degrees outside. And he was a piglin hybrid, so his body wasn’t designed to be in the cold, but he adapted. 

“Let’s head back,” Phil announced. “Steve’s probably getting lonely.”

Techno snorted at that.

“He’s fine. Your crows are rubbing off on him, though. He’s started bringing me shiny things.”

Phil chuckled, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. 

They fell into normal conversation like clockwork. Techno never was one to talk until he met Phil. He could listen to the winged man talk all day. For weeks, that was all he did. Then, he discovered how much better it was to engage with him. And things only got better from there. Techno found his other half. A piece he didn’t know he was missing.

Stepping inside the castle was a relief. The smell of parchment and burnt wood invaded their nostrils. It wasn’t anything crazy strong or overly sweet, but it smelled like home.

Techno visibly relaxed as he took off several layers of heavily insulated clothes. Phil mirrored his actions, fumbling to get his coat off over his wings.

When Techno finished, he moved over to help Phil. 

“Thanks, mate,” the avian hybrid grinned sheepishly. He could take over the world, but he couldn’t take a jacket off.

Techno stared at the empty foyer, expecting someone.

“Steve?” he called while Phil kicked his boots off. The polar bear acted like any animal but a bear. He always greeted the pair with his little fuzzy tail wagging. 

He was the world’s worst guard dog.

He’d forced his way into the nest at night. Phil and Techno tried to stop him, but the bear wouldn’t take ‘no’ as an answer. Eventually, the hybrids agreed to let him into the nest. He brought a lot of extra warmth.

Techno waited, and Phil eventually joined his side. No consistent thump thump thump came running their way like it usually would.

That wasn’t right.

Techno assumed the worst, an instinctual growl escaping his throat. His hand reached for one of the swords on his belt.

Phil placed a hand on his shoulder, catching his eye. Phil looked wary; his wings fluffed up cautiously.

“I’m sure he’s okay. No one could get in,” Phil assured him confidently, though his body language didn’t enforce that idea. 

Techno nodded, still keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword. Phil walked further into their home, Techno at his side. 

“Steve,” Phil chirped, clicking his tongue. “Steve, come here.”

The two walked into their main living room. The fireplace was starting to die out and needed a few new logs. 

In the furthest corner of the room, Steve stayed curled up on his oversized dog bed. He spent most of his time there.

Techno sighed, his shoulders drooping with relief.

“Steve,” Techno called, crossing the room. The bear lifted his head, watching Techno approach. His tail didn’t wiggle; he didn’t get up and act excited that Techno was home. He had never failed to get up and see him before. “What’s goin’ on?”

Steve gave a happy roar. He made that sound before bringing Techno a stick or a rock he liked.

“What’d’you got?” 

Steve turned his head in response, grabbing something hidden behind him.

“OI! PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN!”

Techno froze, eyes wide.

Phil stared, jaw dropped.

Steve had scruffed a raccoon cub, holding it up proudly. The kit’s feet couldn’t reach the ground, even though Steve wasn’t standing at his full height. 

He had messy blonde hair with far too many knots to be healthy. Some of them would probably need cut off. Furry grey and black ears were hidden in his hair, pinned against his head, clearly annoyed with the current situation. His face had dark markings around his eyes and– they weren’t sure if it was dirt or raccoon markings on the rest of his face. 

The boy's clothes were practically shredded, barely holding together. A grey and black tail hung behind him, whipping violently. Somehow, he only had one shoe. The other foot only had a sock with large holes in it. It couldn’t be considered a sock at that point. 

More concerningly, the kit wasn’t just on Antarctic Empire property, but he was inside their home. 

“THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKIN’ AT PRICK?” the baby hybrid growled, trying to get Steve to drop him. The polar bear stared at Techno, expecting praise.

Techno reluctantly stepped forward, taking the kid from Steve’s jaws. He held the cub by the scruff, holding him at arm's length. He was tiny. Techno’s hand was easily twice the size of his head. While Techno was still in shock, trying to figure out everything, the kid didn’t seem content to be studied.

“PUT ME DOWN!” He squirmed, letting out some angry chitters. 

“Phil,” Techno called, concern dripping from his tongue. “We have a rodent problem.”

“Uh, I see that.”

“FUCK YOU!”

Phil walked closer to them, staring at the raccoon. The cub tried to kick Techno, but his legs were far too short. He couldn’t reach anything or anyone. He snarled as Phil got closer, revealing a mouth with four large canines. Drool pooled in his mouth, dripping onto the floor as he growled.

“Does it have rabies?!” Techno panicked, regretting picking him up.

“I’M NOT AN ‘IT,’ ASSHOLE! FUCK YOU! LET GO!”

“How am I supposed to know?” Phil answered, just as anxious. “Can hybrids get rabies?”

“I don’t know!”

“I’M GOING TO BITE YOUR FUCKING HAND OFF IF YOU DON’T PUT ME DOWN!”

“Phillllllllll, take it outside and kill it.”

“OI! DON’T DO SHIT TO ME!”

“I am not touching that thing, mate.”

“YEAH! YOU SHOULD BE INTIMIDATED!”

“Phil, please. Make a statement out of him or something.”

“Yeah, no,” Phil chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “That’s your problem. Steve gave it to you. Not me.”

“What’s mine is yours. So, take it.”

“I WILL CLAW YOUR EYES OUT, DICKHEAD.”

“Why don’t you go kill it? You’re the one complaining about not having enough people to kill.”

“This isn’t a ‘people!’ It’s feral.”

“I’M NOT FUCKING FERAL! RUDE!”

“Mate, you– I can’t help you here. You’re already holding it. Just walk outside and kill it.”

Techno sighed, turning to walk towards the door.

“NO, YOU FUCKIN’ DON’T.” The cub started growling, claws desperate to latch onto something.

“OW!” Techno yelped, unconsciously dropping the raccoon to clutch his now bleeding arm. “It bit me!”

The kit hit the ground with a hard thump, but that didn’t stop him. He was back up in a second, scrambling into a corner.

Phil tracked him with his eyes, ensuring he didn’t try to escape. The blonde kit burrowed in a corner under a small table, baring his teeth and snarling when Phil looked in his direction.

“Mate, are you alright?” Phil asked, turning his attention to Techno. The cub probably wasn’t going to dash for the exit. He would have to get past both of them to get out. 

“That thing needs to die,” Techno growled. Phil grabbed his bloody arm to inspect it. Though Techno said he was bit, he had four distinct claw marks dragging down his arm. That– that was a little better than being bit.

“Let’s get this cleaned up, yeah?”

Techno yanked his arm back, glaring at the kid under the table. 

“Hey, he can wait. I don’t want your arm to get infected,” Phil tried to sway Techno. He didn’t seem convinced, even though he turned away and walked out of the room. Phil went to follow, but Techno stopped him.

“I can lick my own wounds, thanks,” he told Phil sarcastically.

Right, they’d done the whole war thing together. A few scratches were nothing compared to some of the other injuries Techno had sustained before. He could handle cleaning himself up… 

But Phil liked helping. It was some protective instinct that flared up anytime Techno got hurt. He’d enter weird-bird-dad mode.

And Techno just turned him away.

He didn’t let Phil help.

He basically told Phil he wasn’t a good caregiver.

The bird brain screeched.

“Keep an eye on that thing,” Techno ordered before stomping off.

Phil sighed, looking at the scared, angry cub. 

“Hi, mate,” he greeted with little emotion. Phil studied it. Him? It? Him. Phil studied him. He was so small. 

Phil didn’t know much about raccoons, but he was sure they were supposed to be in the nest at that size. Did he get kicked out? Did raccoons do that? Leave behind the runt? He had to be the runt of the litter, right? There was no way he should be that small.

Phil knew his territory inside and out. No one lived near them. It made no sense how a hybrid, let alone a fledgling, got into their house. 

“How old are you?” Phil asked mindlessly, hoping to distract himself from the ache in his chest. The cub only hissed in response. Phil had to admit: the boy wasn’t very intimidating. 

Phil rolled his eyes. “Right. Steve?”

The polar bear perked up, ready to finally get some admiration for his find.

“You’re grounded.”

He whined and huffed, laying his head down to continue his nap.

“Guess we’ve been slacking on our rounds, huh?” Phil commented to himself, engaging in a staring contest with the hybrid. The boy growled, snarled, and foamed at the mouth. 

That wasn’t normal, right? Was he sick? Was there anything Phil could even do to help him? Birds couldn’t get rabies, so he didn’t know the symptoms to look for or how to fix it. Or if rabies were a hybrid disease or animal exclusive. He never needed to know that kind of information.

Phil sighed and sat cross-legged on a chair near the kit. He wrapped his wings around himself, content to silently observe the little raccoon. He stared at him with beady blue eyes and the occasional head tilt. 

Experimentally, Phil tried chirping at the cub like a mother bird (not like he had anything else to fucking do). 

Of course, he wasn’t a female; he couldn’t produce the sound flawlessly. But the raccoon stopped growling, instead quirking his head at the sound. 

Phil tweeted– the sound was a coo often used to soothe hatchlings. The boy's ears perked up, no longer pinned tightly against his scalp. He tilted his head to the other side, waiting for Phil to make another sound. 

So, he did. He gave a little warble, longer than a single note. 

The raccoon tried to replicate it, failing miserably. 

Phil laughed at the cub, trying to produce a less complicated sound to mimic. 

The babe continued to copy him. The two continued until the raccoon made a similar sound. Phil beamed, praising him. Slowly, his little ringed tail wagged, hitting the legs of the table. A wave of fondness washed over Phil.

They played a little longer. Phil would chirp a simple birdsong; the raccoon would try and duplicate it. Some attempts were more successful than others.

The raccoon slowly started creeping out of his hiding spot, watching Phil intently. The avian made no attempts to grab at him. He stayed settled in his seat, peeping at the fledgling. His eyes were dilated, entranced with the kit.

Then Techno returned.

His heavy footsteps came thundering into the living room. The cub whined and retreated under the table again. 

Phil looked over at his friend, repressing his instincts as much as possible. He hadn’t realized how spaced out he’d been. 

Techno’s arm had off-white bandages wrapped around it sloppily. Phil resisted the urge to double and triple-check that they met his first aid standards.

“Better?” Phil asked after clearing his throat.

“Sure. Let’s just get this thing out of here,” Techno groaned. 

A low growl came from the corner. The runt wasn’t going without a fight.

“Knock yourself out, mate,” Phil grinned, not moving from his seat.

Techno rolled his eyes, grabbing a blanket off the back of a couch. 

“Fine.”

Techno walked up to the corner, despite the more aggressive snarls and barks from under the table. He knelt down, keeping the blanket out in front of him. 

Red eyes locked onto dark blue. He was a fledgling; Techno killed warriors who’d spent their entire life training in combat. An angry cub shouldn’t have been considered a challenge.

Techno lurched forward, throwing the blanket out like a net. 

The hybrid barked and shrieked. The boy darted out of the way naturally. Techno practically face-planted in his failed attempt to catch the wild animal.

He scurried out from under the table while Techno tried to grab his tail. The boy got out without being caught, scanning the living room. Behind him, Techno grumbled, slamming his head on the underside of the table by accident.

The cub chittered something that might’ve been reminiscent of a laugh. 

Phil stared at Techno, who was struggling to get himself out of the small space the cub had been in. 

The hybrid was out in the open. Phil could’ve jumped out of his seat and grabbed him. But it was funnier to watch Techno play cat and mouse.

Techno groaned, rubbing the back of his head. He glared at the laughing cub.

He was being mocked by a child.

It became personal.

Techno pounced, trying to grab onto anything of the boy he could.

He gracefully hopped out of the way, having agility Techno simply didn’t because of their size difference.

“Phil,” Techno rumbled. “A little help?”

Phil laughed at him, readjusting his wings around himself. “You got it, mate.”

Techno huffed, shooting daggers at Phil.

The boy searched for his next hiding spot, but Techno didn’t give him time to plan. He dived at the kid, who yelped in response. Too easily, he dodged out of the way. He jumped up onto the arm of a couch, staring at Techno with a frown.

Techno stared him down with looks that could kill. If he was a cartoon character, smoke would’ve been coming from his ears.

Techno stalked forward slowly. The voices chanted, demanding the kid’s blood. They wanted to see it smeared along the castle walls. They wanted that bushy tail stuffed and hung up somewhere like a taxidermy trophy. 

Before Techno even could attack again, the kid was scurrying off. He ran directly into Phil.

Techno sighed, expecting that to be the end of it. Phil would pick him up by the scruff, and they could kill him. That’d be the end of it. 

Techno was wrong.

The boy shoved Phil’s wings aside and burrowed himself underneath them. Techno waited for Phil to make a move to grab him with his talons. 

Once more, Techno was let down.

The kid stuck his head out of Phil’s wings, just sitting in the man’s lap. Phil curled his wings tighter around the boy! 

The kid grinned smugly, knowing damn well Techno wouldn’t hurt him there. 

He made a sound reminiscent of a bird’s chirp.

Phil gasped, pupils dilating rapidly. 

He lifted his hands to run his talons through the cub’s hair. The boy flinched at first but quickly relaxed into the touch. Phil gently tugged on a few stubborn knots but gave up almost instantly; that was a whole project in of itself. He scratched the boy’s scalp, just behind his ears.

The boy tipped backward, falling into Phil’s chest. His eyes closed as he melted into the touch. A low rumble echoed through the room. He was purring. Phil warbled in response.

Techno stared at the scene in disbelief. What the fuck?

“Phil,” Techno growled. “Either give him here or take him outside.”

Phil ignored him, chirping happily at the boy in his lap. 

Techno had never seen his friend so… so bird-like? In his instincts? He wasn’t ‘The Angel of Death.’ There was a mother hen in his place, coddling a stray hybrid.

Unfortunately for him, Techno was not keeping that thing around. Phil could find a different pet to dote on, like his crows or a new polar bear. NOT a hybrid that broke into their home.

Techno stomped towards the two. The cub broke from the trance first, growling and snapping at the air when Techno placed a hand on Phil’s wing. That brought Phil back to reality, his wings tightening around the boy while puffing up. He hissed. 

Phil hissed at Techno.

Techno nearly lost it. He should’ve yanked that stupid mutt out of Phil’s lap and ripped his guts out. So what if Phil lost a few feathers in the process? They’d grow back.

“Give him to me,” Techno demanded. 

Phil shook his head, arms curling around the boy’s torso. Even if the kid wanted out, Phil wasn’t letting go.

Techno deadpanned, stuck in a standoff. 

“We’re not keeping him.”

“Mine,” Phil quietly murmured, placing his chin on the boy’s head.

“Phil,” Techno groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Let him go.”

Phil ruffled his feathers, whacking Techno with a wing to get him to back away. Techno stumbled back a few steps, staring at his partner with something between betrayal and shock.

Techno huffed, glaring at Phil and the cub in his arms. A random stray they’d known for a few minutes replaced him. Techno wasn’t jealous per se. 

No. Actually, he was very jealous. 

Phil was his. That raccoon stole the one thing that mattered. 

Techno decided he’d wait. They had all the fucking time in the world. Either Phil would get sick of the kid and leave him for dead. Or, Techno would have to wait until they weren’t together. Phil couldn’t supervise the kid forever. All he had to do was allow the inevitable to play out. 

Techno would get Phil back and murder the hybrid. 

Chat was screaming. They wanted to pry the kid out of Phil’s hands and snap his neck right then and there.

Techno knew better than to try and take a cub from its (temporary) parent. The boy already proved he was more than capable of drawing blood and attacking. A broody Phil was a thousand times more deadly. It wasn’t a fight Techno wanted to pick if he could easily avoid it by waiting. 

He’d busy himself with something else– anything else. In a few hours, Phil would be back to his sensible self. 

Or at least Techno hoped so. He was counting on it.

♡

Listen, Tommy wasn’t exactly sure how the fuck he ended up there. A few memories were missing. That was a problem he would address later. Currently, The Angel of Death was swaddling him, carrying him across their massive fucking castle. 

Tommy took a leap of faith jumping into his arms. The Blood God seemed dead set on killing him. The Angel chirped at him and played with him! That was a good sign, right? Apparently, because Tommy was alive. 

The Angel chirped thoughtlessly as they walked, carrying Tommy on his hip. One wing wrapped around him, shorter feathers resting on his shoulders while long primaries draped down his back. 

Tommy was equally worried as he was relaxed. The Angel hadn’t made any moves to hurt him, despite having more than enough chances. His sharp talons scratched Tommy’s scalp, careful not to draw blood. They could’ve easily pierced his skull. The little cub in his mind screamed to let the older hybrid care for him. The sensible part of Tommy was afraid his neck would get snapped at any moment. 

No matter how soothing the tweets and warbles were, at the end of the day, he was The Angel of Death. Nothing could change that. 

Even if he led Tommy into the biggest room he’d ever seen with a GIANT bed and the softest looking blankets.

Holy shit.

What was Tommy worried about before? Nothing a couple of blankets couldn’t fix.

Tommy chittered, tail wagging at the sight. Blankets and pillows were set up around the edges of the bed into a– into a nest. Ah. That made sense. Regardless, Tommy was in the freezing cold for however fucking long. The bed looked warm and soft, and Tommy could create a little burrow with all the blankets and sleep for weeks!

Oh! Those blankets looked so fuzzy and thick. He needed to hide in them. Now!

He tried worming out of The Angel’s arms, making grabby hands for the bed. A hand on his back restrained him, pressing him further into The Angel’s chest.

He whined, looking up for some sort of explanation. Tommy wanted the blankets. Tommy wanted blankets now.

The Angel walked further away from the nest. Tommy continued to throw a fit until he couldn’t see the bed anymore.

Tommy’s mouth clicked shut when he was shifted, the wing disappearing from his back. The Angel set him down on the tiled floor. They were in a bathroom. 

Tommy saw the gold accents in the room and immediately forgot about whatever he was whining over. Shiny. So much shiny.

The sound of water running broke Tommy from his awe. His head darted in the direction of the noise. At the far end of the room, The Angel was kneeling in front of a clawfoot tub, one hand under a stream of water. 

Tommy ran over to him, wrapping his tiny hands over the edge of the tub. He had to stand on his tiptoes to peer into it. 

A hand ruffled his hair fondly, but Tommy was too busy watching the water level rise to care. He reached a paw over to the faucet, not coming close to touching the water.

The Angel chuckled before hands were under his arms and hoisting him up. Tommy could reach the water and happily did so. He stuck his paws under the faucet, surprised to find warm water flowing. He quietly purred, splashing the water stream around. He was promptly pulled away after that. 

He whined, glaring at The Angel.

The older hybrid trilled something encouraging and soothing. Tommy easily forgot his concerns, leaning into the chest behind him. He nearly fell asleep on the spot once talons scratched his ears.

How could something so “evil” be so comforting? Maybe the rumors were all bullshit. The Angel seemed like a big softie. No one ever treated Tommy that nice except for–

Wilbur. 

Oh shit.

Tommy shot up from The Angel’s lap, ears pointed to the sky. The winged man chirped a noise of concern. It was met with strong arms pulling him back down and a hypnotic warble that made Tommy forget everything bad in the world.

“You’re alright, mate,” was whispered in his ear. Somehow, he believed it. 

Wilbur could wait. 

The Angel pulled Tommy away, setting him on his feet. He frowned, trying to shove himself back towards the source of warmth. Hands on his shoulders stopped him from moving.

“Bath first,” The Angel told him. Tommy pouted, crossing his arms. “You can go in the nest when you’re clean.”

The nest! The nest!

How did Tommy forget? His eyes flicked over to the bathroom door. Just beyond it laid the nest. Tommy could build the best burrow with all those blankets. 

Okay, he could put up with a bath. Perhaps, he needed it. He wasn’t in the best condition.

The Angel helped him through the process. The water was so warm! Tommy could’ve fallen asleep in the tub if it wasn’t for The Angel constantly pestering him. 

The Angel spoke in soft tones Tommy wasn’t used to. He rubbed something in his hair that had the sweetest fragrance. The Angel scolded him when he tried to eat it. By the time he cleaned the dirt off with a washcloth, the water changed into a murky brown color. 

Tommy preferred the clear water he started with, but eh. He wasn’t too picky. It was still fun to splash around, even if The Angel seemed upset when he got a faceful of water. He never yelled at or hit Tommy, so he continued.

Tommy put up a fight when The Angel made all the water go away and pulled him out of the tub. He settled down when an incredibly fuzzy towel was wrapped around him. He wanted to keep it for his burrow.

Tommy wouldn’t describe himself as easily impressed; it was just– The Angel had a lot of luxuries Tommy had never seen before! Sue him for being distractable.

“We’ll get you a haircut tomorrow. But for now, is that better?” The Angel asked, a second towel in his hands. Tommy nodded eagerly. The Angel used his towel to ruffle Tommy’s hair a bit roughly. He grimaced, not enjoying the feeling. The moment a whimper escaped, The Angel stopped. 

“Sorry, mate,” The Angel apologized, tossing the towel onto the marble countertop. He looked over Tommy, smiling slightly. He chirped but tried to play it off as a cough. Before Tommy could ask why, he was being ushered out of the bathroom. 

To the nest!

He could go in the nest!

Tommy ran over, throwing himself into the middle of the bed. The Angel chuckled from somewhere behind him, but he didn’t care. He was too focused on rearranging the blankets to his liking. They were so soft! They reminded him of-

“Here,” The Angel interrupted, throwing a t-shirt onto the bed. Tommy let go of the blanket in his hand, crawling over to pick up the shirt.

He stared at it for a while, unsure what to do. Did The Angel want him to incorporate it into the nest? It wasn’t a very soft material like the blankets.

The Angel walked over, taking the shirt from Tommy and pulling it over his head. Tommy chittered, not prepared for his vision to be compromised. It returned as quickly as it left. 

The shirt was better than the one he had prior, but it did not fit. If he stood up, he’d have a pool of fabric at his feet to trip over with every step. It had two holes in the back, probably for wings, but they reached low enough Tommy’s tail could fit through one comfortably. The collar was wide and fell off one shoulder, barely staying on the other.

Tommy looked up sheepishly.

The Angel chuckled, failing to suppress another chirp.

Tommy tried to reply with a chirp of his own. The Angel made a weird sort of face and made another bird sound. Before Tommy could respond, The Angel let himself fall into the nest beside Tommy. The raccoon hybrid yelped and jerked back a few feet.

That was his space!

Tommy whined and huffed.

The Angel looked… sad. He reached a hand towards Tommy, patting the blankets in front of him with his other hand.

“Come here,” The Angel demanded softly. It hardly seemed like a demand. Tommy was almost tempted to push his luck. Almost.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward until he was within reach of The Angel. A hand wrapped around his waist, and Tommy was yanked into The Angel’s chest. A whine rose up in his throat, but it dissipated when talons rubbed the base of his ears.

And fucking hell. It felt so good; it wasn’t fair. The Angel could make him melt with a simple touch. But also… was that so bad? He wasn’t hurting Tommy. He was just petting Tommy. No one had ever pet Tommy before. They said he was too gross or something along those lines.

Tommy sighed and curled into The Angel’s chest, tilting his head to get The Angel’s talons to scratch in just the right places.

A rumble vibrated through his chest and throat. 

“You’re adorable,” The Angel muttered. 

Tommy said nothing, content to just enjoy the attention.

And it would’ve been great if they stayed like that for the rest of eternity. But noooo. The Angel kept ruining Tommy’s peace. He started asking questions. Tommy just wanted head scratches.

“Mate?” The Angel asked, pausing his pets. Tommy frowned, his purring coming to an abrupt halt. The Angel chuckled. “I’ll keep playing with your hair in a second, m’kay? Can you just tell me some things first?”

Tommy groaned and buried his face in The Angel’s chest. Tommy pretended not to hear the man.

“Can you tell me your name?” The Angel whispered softly in Tommy’s ear. “I’m Phil.”

Woah, woah, woah. Hold the phone. Freeze frame. Record scratch. Rewind. What?

Tommy shoved against The Angel’s chest so he could stare at his face. The Angel had unnaturally bright blue eyes, unlike Tommy who had dull blue ones. His blonde hair reached a bit past his shoulders, and he had some stubble on his jaw. 

This was the man who was 50% responsible for taking over the world.

And his name was Phil?!

What the fuck.

“Your name,” Phil gently reminded Tommy. “I know you can talk. You had quite the vocabulary earlier.”

Okay, rude. Tommy’s vo-cab-u-lary was fine, thank you very much.

“Tommy,” the smaller blonde huffed, ready to cuss Phil out.

“Tommy,” Phil rumbled before Tommy could continue. And oh. No one ever said his name like that. Usually, people spat his name like it burned their tongues. But Phil said it so gently and carefully. “That’s a good name.”

Tommy grumbled something under his breath. Even he couldn’t be too sure what he was trying to say. 

Instead of trying to figure out that weird feeling fluttering in his chest, Tommy rammed his head into Phil’s hand. The avian chuckled and started petting Tommy again, so win.

“You’re such a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Phil hummed, using his other hand to rub Tommy’s back at the same time. 

Any remaining tension slid out of Tommy’s body like flowing water. His blinks became longer, and thoughts became harder to produce. 

Phil chirped something in Tommy’s ear. Somehow, his brain recognized the sound.

‘Caregiver,’ he said.

Mindlessly, Tommy chittered back a confirmation. ‘Caregiver.’

Tommy never had a caregiver before, but Phil seemed like a good one. So what if he might’ve been The Angel of-

Phil’s talons scratched Tommy’s ears with just enough pressure. The sensation brought ten times more pleasure than being pet.

Tommy couldn’t keep his eyes open a blink longer. His little fists grabbed onto Phil’s shirt and refused to let go. He curled into the man, determined to steal all his body heat.

Phil mumbled something, but the words were lost.

Tommy could only think about how some primal part of him had finally been satisfied.

‘Safe, safe, safe,’ his brain whispered for the first time.

Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.