Work Text:
The racket of stamping feet filled Philza’s ears as his boys charged throughout the house. He let his eyes slip closed and a soft sigh leave his mouth when he heard the running turn in his direction. He calmly set down the foot he was preparing and wiped his hands on a rag, casting an eye over the room to make sure there was nothing easily breakable within reach.
The door slammed open and Tommy’s voice cascaded into the room. “Phil! Tell Techno that I—”
“Phil tell Techno that he—”
“Phil can you tell Tommy that he isn’t allowed to use my sword and Wilbur that he isn’t allowed to eat the feet?” Techno’s voice drowned out his brothers’. Philza let himself stay still for a moment as his boys tensed behind him. He turned around. Wilbur at least had the awareness to look slightly guilty at being caught. Tommy’s brazen defiance warmed something in his heart, as did Techno’s smug look of victory.
“Tommy, no playing with swords without supervision,” he ignored Tommy’s indignant scoff, “Wilbur, no eating the products,” and there was the offended squawk, “And Techno.” He fought back the smile at how Techno stiffened, “I have a new assignment for you.” His left wing reached up to one of the higher shelves and he used the big toe to flick a leather-bound book into his waiting hand. Philza pulled out one of the loose papers and held it out to Techno.
“Another order from Fundy,” he clarified at the confused expression on Techno’s face. His son nodded and made his way out of the room, bringing his thumb up to bite the nail as he read the order.
“Phiiiiiillll,” Tommy whined, “why can’t I use the swoooords? I’m so good at them.”
“Children don’t get to play with weapons Tommy.” Wilbur leant back against the door. Philza frowned and lightly whapped his head with a wing.
“Wilbur, be nice.” Wilbur frowned and left the room with a huff. Philza would have to talk with him later. For now…. He turned back to Tommy. As much as the boy would surely deny it later, his face was flushed with a genuine pout.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you Tommy, or that you’re young,” he pulled the boy to his side and deigned not to mention the way he pressed in closer to the half-hug. “But swords are dangerous, you could get hurt, and I want to make sure that someone is around to help if you do.”
“But you don’t make Techno have someone,” Tommy grumbled back.
“True, but Techno’s been fighting for a very long time. And he knows when to ask for help if he needs it.” Philza left out the fact that that had only come after several…. incidents. It wasn’t what Tommy needed to hear at the moment.
“It’s not fair. I’m a Big Man, Phil. Why don’t you let me do the stuff you let Techno and Wilbur do?”
“You want me to be honest?”
“Yhm,”
Philza sighed and brought Tommy to his front, shifting his wings to cover him. “I’ll admit that I’m a bit more protective of you than them. I met Wilbur when he was arrested and Techno when he killed some people, you were just a lonely kid in the middle of the forest,”
“So you like me more?” Philza hid his smile in Tommy’s hair, of course that was what his youngest got out of that.
“Sure, let’s go with that.” Tommy’s arms wrapped cautiously around him and he allowed it. The feet could wait a few more minutes, his boy needed him now.
-
Philza knocked quietly on the door to Wilbur’s room. An equally quiet ‘come in’ came as the sound of guitar playing stopped. Philza opened the door. Wilbur was sitting on his bed, guitar in his lap and looking down with the most pitiful expression Philza had seen him make in a while.
“Hey Wil, you seemed pretty down at dinner,” and he had. Normally Wilbur was able to match Tommy verbal blow for blow but that night he’d seemed slower to respond and barely even tried.
“It’s nothing, I’m fine.”
“Oh don’t give me that,” Philza sat down next to Wilbur and carefully tugged the guitar from his hands, gently resting it to the side. “Is it about earlier today?”
“I told you it’s fine.” Wilbur’s eyes screamed yes.
“Oh mate,” Philza pulled Wilbur close with his wing, “you wanna talk about it?”
He could practically feel Wilbur’s resolve waver, “It’s just… I don’t know. Sometimes I just get this… compulsion, and I want to… you know.” Wilbur’s feet came up and he pulled his knees to his chest.
“I know, Wil,” he’d felt something similar himself, just a few years ago he’d been a lost immortal searching for a purpose in life that would fill the hole inside of him.
“I don’t—I don’t want to but I just can’t help it sometimes!”
“How about this, whenever you feel like that, you come to me, yeah? I can make sure you don’t go after anything too important,”
“Okay,” he sniffed, “I can try.” Philza smiled and pulled Wilbur closer into his side with his wing. The dishes downstairs could wait a few minutes, his boy needed him now.
-
Philza’s relationship with Techno was arguably the most complicated. Wilbur and Tommy both craved affection and validation in very obvious ways, but Technoblade was more subtle about it. He wouldn’t crack a smile if you complimented his sword skills but the second Philza mentioned a greek hero that Techno had ranted about a few times he lit up like a forest fire.
He wouldn’t blink at a hug but as soon as someone ran a hand through his hair he melted like a cat.
So, yes, Philza gave Techno a bit more independence than his other boys. And, yes, their relationship wasn’t typical of a father and son. But Techno had spent his life without positive authority in his life and it worked for them.
And if Philza was awoken several times a night by Techno pacing the house and opening doors, sword in hand, to make sure no one could harm the little family unit they made, that was fine. His boy was protective to a fault, had been even before he’d acknowledged how much they meant to him.
So when Techno finally passed out Philza would carefully get up from his bed and cover his son in a blanket, easing the sword out of his hands so he didn’t hurt himself on it, leaving it within easy reach for Techno’s peace of mind.
Philza’s sleep could wait, his boy needed him.