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New Energy Now, Eh?

Summary:

For the Craft brothers, keeping their supernatural abilities from their dad is practically second nature at this point. At least, it was.
Turns out keeping their secret is ten times harder when their dad’s actually home.
Or
My VALORANT AU with SBI featuring Phil's attempt at being a good father

Notes:

basically in this au each valorant agent is actually a species. members of the species have the agent's abilities. ex: dream is a jett so has wind magic and is fast.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: TOMMY

Chapter Text

Tommy cursed as one of Dream’s knives nicked his arm.

“Annoying bastard,” Tommy pressed himself against a wall. “Dream’s on A site!”

Tommy’s comm buzzed to life in his ear, “George planted his swarm grenades on B,” Ranboo shot back, “Head C!” 

“I’ll be there as soon as I deal with this Jett dickhead,” he muttered. Pulling out his Classic, Tommy slowed his pace, listening for footsteps. Sure enough, he could hear Dream around the corner.

“C’mere Tommy,” Dream taunted, “If you surrender now, I promise I’ll make it quick.” Tommy shivered in fear. Yeah, maybe he wouldn’t take this fight. Matchpoint was stressful enough on its own and Dream definitely wasn’t helping his heart rate.

Sighing, he pulled out his knife and made a break for it in the other direction. He ran through A link, back towards spawn. If he remembered the plan right, Tubbo should be ready to meet up with him, spike in hand.

Sure enough, his best friend greeted him with Vandal cocked and ready to fire.

“You just about gave me a heart attack,” the Skye muttered.

“My bad,” Tommy said, hands raised in surrender,  “Uh, could I get a heal? Dream nicked me.”

“For sure.” In deep concentration, he rubbed his hands together and activated his magic. Tommy sighed, appreciating the warm familiar feeling of Tubbo’s heal.

“Thanks.” Tommy cocked his gun, “Let’s go help Ranboo out.”

The pair of them dashed towards C site, just before rushing, they paused slowing their pace.

“Got any eyes on them?” Tubbo shook his head. Tommy sighed and activated his comm. “Ranboo, is C clear?”

“From what I can see,” Ranboo said, “But I haven’t seen Sapnap all game. You should probably flash them, just to be safe.”

“Well, you heard the man Tubzo.”

Tubbo snapped his fingers and summoned a small hawk. “Go on little birdy.”

Once they’d heard the tell-tale sound of the flash, the two of them rushed in, guns up. Unfortunately for them, in a blind panic, Sapnap threw down a wall of fire, catching Tubbo in the blaze.  Tubbo cursed, dissolving in front of Tommy’s eyes. 

From beyond the grave, Tubbo's voice crackled to life in Tommy’s ear. “Sap’s hit for one-oh-five! He’s a one-shot.” Tommy grimaced, turning sharply and one-tapped Sap in the head.

“Got ‘im,” he said, “Ranboo, where are you?”

“The thing is, I may have had a run-in with Dream,” Ranboo said, “So I’m afraid you’re in a bit of a… situation.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Tommy reloaded his gun. “Do I have to do everything?”

“I’ll have you know I am top-fragging,” Ranboo said, “He just… caught me off guard.” Tommy rolled his eyes. He grabbed the spike from where Tubbo had fallen and shifted into his astral form. Carefully, he threw up a wall of stars. It should be able to defend him from unexpected shots from C-long while he planted the bomb. Once he planted, his comm sparked back to life.

“Now all you have to do is wait,” Tubbo instructed, “George has his Lockdown and Dream’s still using Blade Storm, so watch out for that.”

“I got it, I got it,” Tommy muttered, “I’m a professional.” Behind him, he heard footsteps. He whipped his head around. “Now be quiet, the two of you. I’m trying to listen.” 

Thankfully, his teammates seemed to cooperate. The air was still, a tell-tale sign that Dream was hanging back. Carefully, Tommy approached the source of the footsteps, the entryway back near his spawn. Gun ready, Tommy took a deep breath and peeked. Sure enough, George was there, knife in hand and unprepared to shoot. Without thinking, Tommy shot, nicking him in the side before he felt something hit him from behind. 

When he opened his eyes again, the simulation had finished and a large red DEFEAT - SPIKE DEFUSED shone on the screen. A dismal 13 - 2 taunted him as he felt Tubbo pat him on the back sympathetically.

Tommy groaned and Dream wheezed. “You really thought George would let you kill him like that for no reason?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Tommy admitted, “I didn’t think you would have time to flank me and defuse.”

“Well, to be fair, I defused it to half while you were walking up to George,” Dream said casually. “I topped it off right after I shot you.”

“It’s okay Big Man,” Tubbo said sympathetically, “I thought you played well.”

“Can’t really expect to win against us anyway,” Sapnap said cockily, “Dream Team Baby!” Tubbo rolled his eyes light-heartedly.

“I mean, it’s hardly a fair fight Dream Team or not,” Ranboo said, “You guys are in the Upper School and we’re only in Year Six.”

“Admittedly it feels wrong bullying sixteen-year-olds,” George agreed, “Even if it is a beating they willingly signed up for.” Tommy stuck his tongue out indignantly. Dream ruffled his hair in response.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure in a couple of years you three might be able to put up an actual fight,” he joked, “Until then, go home. We’ve been practicing all afternoon.” 

Tommy rolled his eyes but complied anyway. He grabbed his backpack and packed the rest of the stuff into his bag. He tapped his feet as he stood by, waiting for Tubbo and Ranboo to finish getting ready.

“Is your dad home from his trip yet?” Tubbo asked, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “Or do you need to come to mine to practice your Gravity Well?”

“Dad’s not supposed to be back for another couple of weeks,” Tommy shrugged, “I’m in the clear.”

Tubbo hummed as they began walking. “Well, if you ever need some space for training y’know my dad doesn’t mind.”

“Tubbo, I think the Captain just likes to have us over to remember what it was like when he was young,” Ranboo joked, “I think we could destroy his backyard and he wouldn't care.”

“We have destroyed the backyard without him caring before,” Tommy corrected, “Remember? Ranboo was practicing teleporting and took the grass with him.” Tubbo and Tommy burst into laughter while the Yoru in question turned bright red.

--

“My plan may sound irrational, only because you cannot see what I can.”

--

Despite the long day of training, the first thing Tommy did when he got home was run to the backyard to practice. He couldn’t help it, there was nothing like playing with the stars. In his astral form, power running through his veins一 he felt invincible.  Tommy cracked his knuckles and furrowed his eyebrows together.

Deep breath. In. Out.

Shifting into his astral form, he placed a Gravity Well on the other side of the yard. When he opened his eyes a shining purple star was pulsing with energy. He cracked a smile; that was easy enough. The next bit, admittedly was the part he was having trouble with: keeping the well in control. He snapped, energy crackling at his fingertips. Slowly, he pushed more magic into the spell, allowing it to wrap itself around his fingers.

Slow and steady, Ms. Clara had advised, When messing with gravity control is key. 

Soon enough, the magic had him covered up to his forearm. Tentatively he pointed straight towards the star, pushing the energy forwards. Before his eyes, the star grew and surrounding objects began to move closer to the center of the star. Tommy cheered. He’d done it! He actually did it!  Just as he was thinking about how cool it would be to show Ms. Clara the strangest thing happened.

“Tommy! I’m home!”

In a panic, he snapped his fingers, detonating the well and destroying a perfectly good chair.

“Dad?!” he yelled, “Is that you?” Tommy ran up to the back door, hoping to catch him before he spotted the mess he’d made of their lawn. Just as he opened the door, Phil did for him.

And there he was in all his striped glory; the great Philza Mine-Craft. “I heard some commotion in the back,” he said, “What were you boys doing while I was gone?” As he spoke, Phil attempted to look over his shoulder into the back.

For not the first time in his life, Tommy was thankful for his growth spurt last year. “Nothing, nope,” he said, “You must’ve heard wrong.”

Phil narrowed his eyes. “If you broke something Tommy, I’m not mad. We can replace it.”

“I broke a chair,” Tommy admitted, “I was… trying to get a ball out of a tree. Turns out chairs break when you throw them.”

Thankfully, his dad seemed to buy it, laughing in response. “Don’t worry about silly things like that, mate. I’ll just order a new one.” Philza paused, looking like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Awkwardly, Tommy cleared his throat.

“So, uh, what are you doing here dad?”

Philza blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I thought you weren’t supposed to be home for another couple of weeks,” Tommy said, “Not that I’m upset that you’re here! Just… curious.”

“Suppose you’re right,” Phil said, laughing, “I was just thinking, really there was no reason for me to be on a trip. I’d much rather spend some time with my boys than some wild birds.” It was clear that he was trying to make a joke, but Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to find it funny.

“Heh, yeah. That’s good. I guess.” The father-son duo stood in tense silence. Tommy refusing to make eye contact and Phil, in turn, refused to reach out. An impasse, if you will.

“Are you two just gonna stand there? Or are we gonna eat some dinner?”

Wilbur you absolute legend.

“I’m coming!” With that, he pushed past Phil and ran into the house.

--

“We are not ready for this situation... my friends.”

--

Family dinners were one of Tommy’s favourite parts of his day.

Most days, it was the only time all three brothers were in the same room. Tommy had a certain talent for bringing out Wilbur’s chaotic energy, while Techno got to laugh at their idiocy. At times, they’d discuss their days at school. If one of them was having some trouble with something they’d put their heads together to try and fix it. Normally, they’d finish with something that resembles an answer.

Family dinners with Phil were a different story.

It’s awkward. Unresolved tension from past fights goes unsaid while everyone ignores the elephant in the room.

Getting a conversation going is tough, even for Tommy. Most of his conversation topics of choice center around his last training session, which he definitely can’t tell his dad about. Despite their dad’s mistakes, the Craft brothers have agreed to keep him out of the Radiant world. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. If he doesn’t know they're actively being trained for armed combat he can’t worry. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

Which brings them here. 

“So, how’s community college treating you Techno?” Phil asked, “I heard the English program there is nice.”

“Yeah, it’s, uh, good.” Techno spoke quietly, very deliberately avoiding eye contact by looking into his takeout box. 

“Meet any good professors?”

“Uh, not really.” 

Tommy felt for his dad, really. Philza was trying his best but, his time away from the three of them wasn’t something that would go away with a couple of icebreakers. His dad cleared his throat.

“Listen, I know I haven't been the best at being around for you boys一” The understatement of the year, “一But I want to try to be better.” 

That was different. Tommy put down his chopsticks and beside him, Wilbur motioned for Phil to continue.

“Right well, I’ve decided that I want to be better for you boys,” he said, “You three don’t deserve to be left alone all the time. And I’ve realized that I have all I need right here.” The brothers stared him down in silence. “So, I’ve decided to take a break from adventuring, for a while. At least until Tommy’s off to Uni.” Phil finished his speech with a flourish of a paper napkin.

Tommy felt his heart drop to his stomach. Keeping their secret was hard enough when Phil was here for a couple of days, but a couple of years? Forget it, they stood no chance.

Wilbur built up the nerve to speak first. “Oh, that’s great dad,” he said, “We could use the help around here.”

“Well, I’m here to help whenever you need,” Phil said. “If you ever have any school work, girl troubles一 I’m all ears.” Silence flooded the room, leaving Phil hanging.

“The first thing I’d love is to head to bed, honestly,” Tommy said, grabbing his empty takeout container. “But… thanks, dad. I know you don’t have to do this shit.”

“Of course I do, Toms,” Phil said, pulling out an old nickname, “I’m your dad.”

--

“I've told you, you are better than all of this… Share your heart, eh?”

--

Everything about what happened at the dinner table was out of character for his dad.

For as long as he could remember, his dad had been an adventurer. When their mother had been alive he’d been able to control it. He’d get the occasional cabin fever, maybe once every couple of months, but he’d never be gone for longer than a weekend. He was always there for holidays or birthdays.

Until their mom died.

It started slowly. He started going on his weekend trips more often. But then weekends turned to weeks. It only took a year for weeks to turn to months. At first, it hurt to think that his dad didn’t want to spend time with them. Eventually, though he got used to it and it only took two years down the line for the brothers to see it as a positive. When Phil was gone the brothers were free to use their powers as they pleased. As long as they knew when Phil would come home they could train without interference.

Tommy sighed, splashing some water on his face. Turning off the sink, he exited the small washroom into the hallway. A couple of meters down, he could hear Wilbur messing around on his guitar. Quietly he re-entered his room. Just as Tommy was climbing into bed, he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened slowly, revealing Phil, who’d changed into some pyjamas. His dad stood awkwardly in his doorway, looking around his room.

“Hey there,” he said, “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

Tommy gestured him forward. “Well come on then,” he said, “I’m about to head to sleep anyway.” Thankfully, Phil walked in without complaint, taking a seat on the foot of Tommy’s bed. 

Despite being sixteen years old and a solid three inches taller than his father, Tommy felt awfully small like this. Something about this position was nostalgic, reminding Tommy of a better time; when mom was still alive and they would read him stories to fall asleep.

“Your room’s changed since the last time I saw it,” he commented, “New posters.”

“Tubbo got it for me,” he muttered, looking at the wall, “Went to a convention together.”

“I sure have missed a lot,” Phil said, “Maybe we can go to a convention together sometime?” Tommy cracked a small smile. Here his dad was, trying to reach out to him. The least he could do was reach back, right?”

“I heard there was a video game one coming up,” he suggested, “A new Terraria game is coming out, the snapshot will be at the con.” Phil beamed at him.

“Sounds perfect, mate,” he said. Philza ruffled his hair. “Well, I just wanted to say goodnight.” He stood up and walked back towards the doorway. “See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you then dad.” 

After a final wave, Philza turned off the light and shut the door behind him quietly.

Fuckin’ hell, Tommy needed to text Tubbo about this.

--

"Relax, my friends... they're not what you think."

Chapter 2: TECHNOBLADE

Notes:

chapter twooooooo

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

In Techno’s not-so-humble opinion, there was no feeling quite like hitting headshots. It was cathartic, in a way it was like his version of therapy. Maybe that’s why he came here after last night’s dinner. 

Even though no one had even raised their voice, Techno had found himself on edge. When he woke up that morning the odd feeling still hadn't left, leading him here: the practice range.

As he entered, he scanned his student ID. The overhead speakers crackled to life. “Welcome. Student Name: Technoblade Craft. Second Year Upper School student. Rank: Radiant. Please choose a training room.”

Techno looked down, selecting Room One.

“Thank you.” The wall in front of him shifted mechanical parts revealing a door, labelled ONE. Silently, Techno walked through. Once inside, he moved towards the lockers, swiping his ID once more.

“Please enter your password.” Techno sighed, following the instructions until the locker cracked open, revealing his arsenal of guns. After mulling over his options, he grabbed a Vandal and got to work. 

Techno shot in silence fully focused on the task at hand. As time went on, the targets became harder to hit, Though they started as standard targets, they quickly turned into holographic dummies. About, twenty minutes later into his practice he heard the door open behind him.

He paused in his shooting to see who had come in.

“Hey there Techno, mind if I join you?” Techno shrugged.

“Go ahead.”

The Jett hummed, walking and grabbing a gun from his locker. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Morning Dream,” Techno said, refocusing,  “What gun will it be today?”

“I’ve been meaning to perfect my Phantom work,” The other student held it up for good measure. Techno hummed noncommittally, reloading his magazine. The Jett fired off a couple of headshots, scoffing. “What is this? Amature hour?” Techno rolled his eyes. Cocky bastard. “Can we turn up the difficulty?”

“Go right ahead, doesn’t bother me.”

Despite the small rivalry the two of them had going on, Techno was glad there was no real animosity. Despite their competitiveness in training and on class leaderboards, they respected each other. They were mature enough to leave it in the field.

Something he particularly enjoyed was actually training with Dream. The other student was the only real competition at the school. Honestly, Techno trusted the Jett to keep him on his toes, keep his senses sharp.

“We’re training tonight, right?” Techno fired another round, “With your team and that other solo agent, the Raze. Quackity was it?” Dream shook his head, reloading.

“Sapnap can’t make it,” he said, “He’s talking to guidance about some issues with his courses. We’re rescheduling. When are you free?”

“Whenever, really,” he said, “Except on Friday, I’m helping Tommy out with some movement training.” 

Dream hummed, lining up another shot. “Well, I’ll text you the day,” he said, “But if you don’t have any new plans for tonight, we can spar one on one. No guns, just good ol’ fashion movement and abilities.”

Techno paused for a moment, thinking about it. “Sounds good to me,” he agreed. “I’ll meet you in the arena, after school?” 

Dream nodded in confirmation. “I’ll be there.”

Techno glanced at the clock and sighed. Finishing a round of bullets, he put down his gun. “I think ‘m gonna head in, I have class at ten.” 

“See you later then,” Dream said, “I have a free period so I’ll be sticking around.” Techno didn’t respond as he put the gun back in his locker. Grabbing his bag, he gave Dream one final wave and exited the practice range, back into the main area of campus.

--

"This enemy is nothing special. Still human, still mortal."

--

“When it comes to harnessing the energy of an enemy’s soul, you will feel the emotion of your victims,” Ms. Delilah explained, “And that might be scary.”

Learning about the intricacies of his power was important, and if Techno was going to be the best he needed to learn the ins and outs of every part of himself. Meaning, like it or not, he had to pay attention in theory class.

“Even though you’ve trained with simulated recreations here at the school, the real world is much different.”

Before becoming a teacher, Ms. Delilah had been one of the best Reyna’s in the field. After retiring from service, she’d been kind enough to share her knowledge with the next generations of Reynas.

“And here at Valorant, we like to ensure that you are fully prepared for anything before your first mission. Even a moment of confusion could be your downfall,” she continued, “So, I’ve scheduled a different sort of training for you all. Next week we will be visiting an overpopulated forest and hunting. There you will be able to practice your Devour technique.” Technoblade scribbled some notes into his book. “While you’ll feel the emotions of the poor animals to prepare yourself for the feeling,” she said, “Now that that’s said, make sure you’re here for class next Monday. Great! Any parting questions?”

As his classmates asked some questions, Techno zoned out until the bell rang. Sighing, he cleared up his stuff and walked out of the room. 

As the final periods ended, students flooded into the halls. Jetts flew above the crowd, Omens teleported out, and Skyes parted the sea with their different manifestations. It was this sort of chaos that humans would never see or understand that comforted Techno. Despite the competitive nature of the students, there was a sort of camaraderie that Techno had yet to find anywhere else.

While he walked the familiar path towards the arena it was unsurprising to find the hallways getting more congested. The Valorant sparring arena is never empty, with so many agents in training there’s always bound to be at least one waiting for some after-school practice. Thankfully, Techno didn’t have to worry about not having a spot. Dream had reassured him that he bought the pre-booked spot from another student who didn’t need it anymore.

Passing the others in line, Techno entered the arena. 

On one side, a Sova and Viper were practicing their signature abilities. On the other, an Omen was perfecting their smoke.  On the far side of the arena, Techno spotted Dream, perched on a box. Unexpectedly, the Jett wasn’t alone, with someone else sitting cross-legged next to Dream’s box. Once he’d got his attention, the Jett jumped off and floated gracefully to the ground.

Dream flipped one of his knives. “This is Nikiー” the girl waved, “She’s a Sage. I figured it couldn’t hurt to have a healer around.”

Niki nodded, “I could use the practice,” she shrugged, “I’ll just be here for the end of each round to get you both back to tip-top shape before you start fighting again.”

“Let’s lay down some ground rules before we start, yeah?” Techno said. Dream nodded in agreement. “I say first to draw blood is the winner.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Dream agreed, “We agreed on no guns, but what about knives?”

“Knives are fine,” Techno said, shrugging, “Easiest way to draw blood.” After a few more minutes specifying their guidelines, Dream clapped his hands together.

“I think that’s it,” he said, “Niki, can you count us down? From five?”

Niki nodded, clearing her throat. Techno took his stance. “Five,” He unsheathed his knife. “Four,” Dream summoned Bladestorm. “Three,” Techno cracked a smile. “Two,” Took his stance across from Techno. “One!

--

"You see, they're flawed, ordinary."

--

As he walked the final stretch towards his house he glanced at his phone. 10:04, admittedly a little later than he'd wanted to get home. H e grimaced, depending on the amount of training Tommy had done at school today, he might already be asleep. As quietly as possible, he unlocked the door and entered. Slipping off his shoes, he walked towards the kitchen for a glass of water.

“Where have you been, young man?” Techno froze in place. How could he have forgotten? “Your brothers came home hours ago,” Phil continued, “I was worried when they said they hadn’t heard from you.”

“Sorry, dad,” Techno apologized, “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not angry,” Philza assured him, “I’d just like a heads up next time. Where were you?” Phil paused, cracking a smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve become a party animal since the last time I saw you Techno.”

“No, no parties,” Techno said, waving him off, “I was just working on a project. One of the people in my group offered for all of us to come over.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Phil said, smiling, “I’m glad not too much has changed since the last time I was here.”

“I don’t think it’ll matter how long you’re gone,” Techno said, “I’m not a party guy dad, you know that.”

“I guess,” Phil said. He paused, his gaze lingering somewhere out of Techno’s line of vision. When they made eye contact again, Philza frowned. “Is that blood on your face?”

Techno froze. He must’ve forgotten to wipe it off after the final round. “Uh, no,” he lied. “Tomato sauce. I had some pasta at my friend’s house.”  He wiped his forehead. “Did I get it?” Phil nodded.

“Who’s this friend of yours?” Phil asked, “Do I know him?” Techno cracked a smile at the prospect of Phil knowing Dream.

“No, you don’t know him,” Techno said, “He’s an international student. From… Florida or something.”

“Is that anywhere near where you lived before?” Phil asked, “I never looked into that.”

“I don’t think so,” Techno shook his head, “I’m pretty sure I was from the West Coast. Floridas on the east.”

“Right, right,” Phil said. “All you Americans sound the same.” Techno cracked a small smile.

“Is that another thing you learned during your travels, old man?”

Despite the previously joking tone of the conversation, Phil’s smile seemed to droop at Techno’s mention of his adventures. Silence reigned through the room, leaving Techno to avoid eye contact awkwardly.

“Sometimes,” Phil began, “When I was on the road, I’d think about what you guys were doing.” He took a seat on their couch, “I liked to imagine that you were doing fine on your own. Wilbur has always been good at taking care of Tommy, especially when he was young. And I was never worried about you, you were always so… self-sufficient.”

Techno had never been one to know what to say, or how to say things, really. Actions were so much easier than words (and much more telling in his personal opinion). So instead of speaking, he joined his dad on the couch.

“I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong,” Phil admitted, “But now, seeing the three of you in this house? I realize that leaving may not have been the choice I thought it was.” The silence lingered once more, tension building up between the father and son as memories of Phil’s past visits came rushing back. While they’d always start positive, Techno remembered their arguments vividly.

“Do you regret it?” Techno asked suddenly, “Leaving us?” 

Phil didn’t answer. Techno’s chest squeezed in pain.

“I’m going to bed now,” he announced. He grabbed his bag and walked over to the stairs. Across the room, Phil sighed.

“Good night then mate,” Phil said, standing from his place on the couch, “And just, let me know next time if you’re going to be home late.”

“I will,” Techno assured him, “I’m just not used to it.”

“And that’s no one's fault by my own,” Phil assured him.

When he was halfway up the stairs Techno paused. “I think that Tommy and Wilbur would appreciate some help with food, by the way. You know I’ve never been the best cook, so they do all the cooking but… they’re both so busy.”

“I can start in the morning,” Phil responded immediately, “Any idea what I should make?”

“They both like their eggs cooked sunny side up,” Techno suggested, “If that helps at all.”

“What about you Techno?” 

“What about me?”

“How do you like your eggs cooked?” he elaborated,  “If I’m making eggs for them I might as well make them for you too, right?”

The Reyna paused, thinking about his answer. “I’m more of a hard-boiled guy myself.” 

Phil smiled. “I’ll remember that thank you,” he said, “See you in the morning, son.”

Techno looked back down the stairs. “Goodnight, dad.”

--

“It doesn't matter what this place used to be.”

Notes:

idk if yall are caching what the quotes are but if you are I'm glad

Chapter 3: WILBUR

Chapter Text

Phil’s behaviour over the past couple of days was completely foreign to Wil. 

In the span of a couple of hours, Phil had come home early and announced he was staying, of all things, both of which were completely out of character. The last time he had stayed around for longer than two days was well over two years ago and yet, here he was five days in and still going strong. 

Wilbur sighed, entering the kitchen. Surprisingly, Tommy was there already, working on some homework with a plate of eggs.

“Morning Toms,” Wil ruffled his brother's hair. 

“Mornin’ Wil,” Tommy said, mouth full.

Wilbur yawned. “Where’s Techno?” 

“Left early this morning, before I woke up apparently,” Tommy shrugged, “He probably went to get some training in.” 

Wil nodded before pointing towards Tommy's notebook. “Whatcha workin’ on?” 

“It’s for Honours Strategy,” he said, “Working on the importance of timing your Ultimate.” Wil hummed, looking over his work.

“Make sure you mention whether or not you’re forcing,” he pointed towards a couple of Tommy’s equations, “That changes these values here.” Tommy nodded, erasing his mistake.

“Thanks,” he said, “I keep forgetting about that.”

“And that’s why you need to do some studying. Exam season is coming up.” Wilbur said sagely.

“You say that as if you don’t have midterms too,” Tommy huffed, rolling his eyes, “You are no better than I am.”

“I never said that I wouldn’t be studying either,” Wil shot back, “I can tell you right now that I will be spending all of tonight at my desk. Speaking of, is your uniform packed in your bag?” Tommy nodded. “Good, don’t want Phil to see us in matching uniforms when one of us isn’t even supposed to be in school.” Tommy laughed lightly.

Wil’s stomach grumbled, reminding him to eat before he left for school. He pointed at his brother’s eggs, “Did you make me any?”

“Dad made them for me actually,” Tommy said, pointing towards the stovetop, “Yours is there too.” Wilbur resisted the urge to let out his surprise. “They shouldn’t be too cold, dad didn’t leave too long ago.”

“Oh,” he walked slowly towards, picking up the eggs. “How did he know we like them sunny side up?”

“Fuck if I know,” Tommy shrugged, “All I know is I woke up, he handed me the eggs and then went grocery shopping.”

Wil walked up to the stovetop and turned off the overhead fan. He grabbed his eggs and joined Tommy at the table. After a little examination, he deemed the eggs edible and took his first bite. Surprisingly, it was nice, he hadn’t remembered Phil being this good at making eggs. From his sparse collection of memories from before their mom died, he didn’t remember Phil doing much of the cooking. When he did, it was never anything more difficult than a frozen pizza. 

“I was just as impressed as you are,” Tommy said, “I didn’t even know he could cook anything beyond reheating last night’s takeout Must’ve been something he learned on the road.”

 

“Apparently we weren’t enough incentive for him to learn,” Wilbur said bitterly, “No, giving his children variety in their diet isn’t a good enough reason, but feeding himself? All of a sudden he’s a fucking world-class chef.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call these eggs world-class,” Tommy joked weakly, “But, yeah, I get what you mean.” Silence fell over the two brothers, the only noise between them was the clatter of forks against their plates. Wilbur placed a comforting hand on Tommy’s shoulder, squeezing it sympathetically.

“We shouldn't have to put up with this bullshit,” Wil whispered, “We shouldn’t have to deal with not being our own father’s first priority. Andー And, whatever the hell he’s trying to pull right now. I won’t let him lull us into a false sense of security.”

“Wil, I think that Phil’s doing his best,” Tommy said, “It’s been a while since he tried, really tried to be our dad. “ 

“You know I only want to protect you, right Toms?” Wil asked, “All I ever want is to make sure you and Techno are doing okay.”

“I know that Wil butー”

“Good, then trust me on this,” Wilbur said, “I’m not going to let Phil swoop in and forget about everything that he’s done to us. He’s not allowed to just pretend everything’s okay. I’m not asking you to do a complete one-eighty in attitude but… just, be wary.” Tommy paused, and Wilbur watched him think it over.

“Okay,” he said, nodding slowly. “I trust you.”

“Good,” Wilbur said smiling, “Now finish your eggs. We have to leave for school in a couple of minutes.”

--

“Hold our ground.”

--

Exiting the change room, Wilbur looked down at his younger brother. “What class do you have this morning?”

“Tubbo, Ranboo and I have team practice this morning,” Tommy replied. “Hopefully all that practice with the Dream Team will have prepared us for the other Year Sixes.”

“I wouldn't worry about them,” Wilbur said, “Your Team is made up of two Radiants and an Immortal, they don’t stand a chance.”

“To be fair I’m only radiant because there aren’t any other Astras in my year,” Tommy said, “If I wasn’t boosted I’d probably be Platinum, maybe Immortal I.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wilbur rolled his eyes, “Whether you're the only Astra or not doesn’t matter. You’ve worked for your rank.” Tommy didn’t argue but didn’t agree either. Wilbur sighed. “Besides Rank, you three have good composition as well. A duelist, an initiator and a controller is a great combination, especially since most Solo agents are sentinels or duelists.”

“I guess you have a point there,” Tommy agreed, “But your team composition isn’t half bad either. Sentinel, initiator, controller is the same deal.”

“Why do you think I chose Fundy and Niki as my teammates? Cause they’re my friends?” Wilbur asked rhetorically.

Tommy rolled his eyes, shoving Wil’s shoulder playfully. “What’s your team even called?”

“You know it’s L’manburgー”

“And I ask every time because it’s funny every time you say it.”

“Oh, and Bench Bros is any better?”

“I’ll have you know that Bench Bros is a fantastic name,” Tommy said indignantly. Wilbur sighed fondly, adjusting his jacket as he walked. The elbows of his academy jacket were getting a little worn, his Omen crest was tattered and his Platinum II tie had seen better days. 

“We should order some new uniforms,” Tommy said, taking in the similar state of their school wear. 

“Agreed,” Wilbur nodded, “I’ll put in a request with the office before I head out today.” 

“Thanks, Wil,” Tommy said, “I’m going to go meet up with the boys, but, I’ll see you after school, yeah?”

“See you then gremlin.” Tommy stuck out his tongue one last time before running towards the Lower School.

In turn, Wilbur walked towards the Upper School in the other direction. While both schools sat on the same campus, they were on opposite ends. 

“Wil!” someone called, “Over here!”

Wilbur turned at the sound of his name and smiled when he spotted his friends at one of the campus’ picnic tables.

“Niki, Fundy,” he greeted, “How do?”

Fundy shrugged, “Same old, same old,” he said, “Spent a couple of hours last night studying which was shit, but other than that it was okay.”

“I spent last night healing your brother and Dream repeatedly,” Niki said, smiling, “They were sparring and needed some help.”

“As long as you’re not too exhausted,” Wil said, “It’s best not to overwork yourself, midterms are coming up.”

“Too true,” Fundy agreed, “We have our teamwork one next week.”

“Almost forgot about that one,” Niki said, “Honestly that’s the one I’m least worried about.”

“Same here,” Wilbur agreed, “Don’t get me started on my economics course.” The group laughed, walking towards the training arena. 

--

"Keep it together."

--

Wilbur wouldn't call his bedroom an ideal studying environment.

His guitar rested against the foot of his bed, unfinished water bottles scattered across the room and a dying bonsai on the window sill. Possible distractions ranged from various band posters or pictures of him and his friends. All in all, not the best place to work when you’re trying to focus.

But, when the options are slim, you work with what you’re given.

Wilbur sighed, setting out his textbooks. The plan was simple. Start with economics, get the hardest shit over with. Next move to strategy and finally, theory of composition. During the entirety of the study section, he was to stay hydrated and keep his door closed. These were precious studying minutes, minimizing the possibility of distraction was crucial. 

Setting all his stuff in place, he went to his door.

He cleared his throat, sticking his head out the door and into the hallway. “I’m gonna start studying. If any of you need me for anything, ask me now.”

“Studying?” Phil called, “What are you studying for?”

Shit .

“Huh?” Internally Wil was panicking, how could Phil’s presence slip his mind. He cringed as he heard Phil climb the stairs.

“What are you studying for?” Phil asked, “You’re taking a gap year.”

“I’m just working ahead,” Wilbur lied, “I’ve been thinking about joining Techno at the community college.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Wilbur winced at the surprise evident in his father’s eyes, “I had no idea you wanted to go to college.”

“Well, I told you I was just taking a gap year.”

“I know, I know,” Phil said, waving him off, “But I thought you were gonna do something with your music.”

“I figured that college is just easier, y’know?” Wil shrugged, “I can still play for you guys, but there I could learn something actually useful.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured to go to college Wil,” Phil said, “If you want to take another year, really figure out what you want to do, that’s fine.”

“I took a year Phil, I’m fine,” Wil insisted, “Now please, back off.”

Apparently, Phil had decided to ignore any of Wil’s obvious frustration and continued speaking. “I just want you to know that it’s okay if you want to look through some other options. There’s no rush Wil. If you still want to go to college in a year from now, we can look into it together.”

“Really Phil, it’s fine,” Wilbur cut Phil off. He hoped that this would shut down any further attempts. Wilbur did not have the energy for this fight right now. “I’m just looking into it for now.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you're aloneー” Wilbur fought down the urge to laugh at that, “I want you to know that I’m here for you.” 

Wilbur felt his nails digging into his palm. “You don’t need to worry about me, Phil. I’m fine. ”

“Of course I have to worry about you,” Phil replied, “You're my son, it’s my job to worry.”

“Well, you haven’t done much worrying these past couple of years.” Wilbur snapped, “So why the fuck are you starting now?”

Visibly, Phil flinched. “Wilbur don’t say that, that’s not fair.” 

“You want to talk about things being unfair?” Wil asked rhetorically, “About the part where you left all the parenting to your sixteen-year-old son?”

“Wil you’re being ridiculous, that’s not what happened.” Phil said, raising his voice. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” Wil felt his volume rising with every passing second but couldn’t bring himself to care. “I have been taking care of Tommy without complaint for years, but the moment you come home you think that things will go back to normal? Well, think again!”

In some part in a dark corner of his mind, Wilbur relished in Phil’s visible discomfort. He deserves this.

“I can’t begin to understand what kind of entitlement, andー and ego you have to come here and expect to slip into the role of the father after five years.” For better or for worse, Phil said nothing. “Why are you saying anything? Huh? You were just fine with yelling a couple of seconds ago!” Phil’s self-imposed silence continued, riling Wilbur up even more. “I don’t have to deal with this shit. Fuck off, Phil.” And with all the force he could muster, Wilbur slammed the door in Phil’s face.

Disregarding any previous attempts at studying, Wilbur threw himself into bed. Scrambling for his phone, he opened his music app. His fingertips flew across the screen, reflexively going to the playlist Tommy had made him and pressing play.

--

"Strike at their weak point, If one link breaks the rest will follow."

Chapter 4: PHIL

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Phil had, admittedly, made a few mistakes regarding his parenting. 

While adventuring, it had been easy to ignore, out of sight out of mind if you will. His priority had been himself and ensuring his own happiness (which mainly consisted of getting out of that house).

But since arriving home, Phil’s seen the damage he’d dealt first hand. His boys were all grown up, and Phil had missed it.

Within the days he’d spent at home, he’d begun to assess the situation. The boys were an emotional mess. Techno and Tommy were hiding something, though he couldn’t quite put a finger on what. On the other hand, Wilbur had been passive since the moment he announced he wouldn’t be leaving.

Unfortunately, last night Phil had managed to make Wilbur’s anger boil over and his son hadn’t left his room since their fight. After retiring to his room, Phil had devised a plan. While he couldn’t expect the three boys to forgive him immediately, he figured they could all use a night of relaxation just to talk things out. So, after some quick research he found that Kristin’s old favourite burger place was still open he made a reservation.

Getting the three boys there had been easy enough, getting the boys to talk about their problems, on the other hand, was a whole other beast.

Wilbur refused to make eye contact, Techno was very interested in his menu and Tommy just attempted to fill the empty silence with aimless conversation.

“And I was talking with Tubbo about fish,” Tommy rambled, “Wondering if they cry and shit. You know, fish ought to be sad sometimes too.” 

“Maybe,” Phil agreed, “I haven’t really thought about it much, to be honest with you.” Thankfully, saving Phil from further deliberation on the emotions of fish, the waiter walked up to their table. A quick glance at their name tag told Phil that the waiter was called Karl.

“What can I do for the three of you tonight?” 

“I’ll take the grilled cheese meal please, sir,” Tommy said charmingly, “With a coke as the drink.” The waiter nodded, noting Tommy’s order down before taking the menu from him. Soon enough, Karl had collected their orders and exited towards the back of the restaurant.

Silence fell over the table, Tommy having seemingly run out of conversation topics. Phil took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as any.

“So,” Phil cleared his throat, “I organized this dinner to tell you I’m sorry.” Phil paused, giving time for his sons to speak if they wanted to. When no one spoke he continued. “When I came home I expected everything to go back to normal, back to the way it was before your mom died, and I realize now that that’s unfair of me. You were all forced to figure out growing up on your own, especially you Wil, because of my selfish decisions and for that I really am sorry.”

“Dad you don’t need to apologize,” Tommy said, “I mean sure mom’s death was awful for all of us, but I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for you.”

“No, he does have to apologize,” Wilbur argued, “Grief isn’t an excuse to push away your children.”

Tommy turned toward his brother. “Wil, that’s not what I’m saying一”

Phil cleared his throat, stopping the argument in its tracks. “I do have to apologize, Toms,” Tommy frowned. “Your brother’s right. Any grief I might’ve had doesn’t dismiss what I did. I should’ve seen a therapist, not ran for the hills.” Phil took a deep breath. “So, I just want to tell all of you how sorry I am. And you don’t need to forgive me immediately, but I’d like it if we could all try and work to live in relative peace.”

For the first time that night, Wilbur looked him in the eye, nodding approvingly and Phil felt a weight disappear from his shoulders.

“I forgive you, Dad,” Tommy said easily, “I mean, it sucked for a while, that you weren’t there, but you’re here now, right? Isn’t that what matters?”

“Thank you, Tommy, really,” Phil said earnestly, “I appreciate it.”

“I forgive you too,” Techno said quietly, “But you’re on thin ice old man.” Phil couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t forgive you, I can’t, not so soon,” Wil admitted, “But I accept your apology.”

“And that’s fine,” Phil said, “I just hope that one day I’ll earn your trust back.”

--

"Pay attention. Might learn something."

--

Leaving the restaurant had a completely different energy than when the family had entered. Tommy was just as talkative but this time, his two brothers joined him, adding their own points and thoughts to the conversation. Phil was happy just to listen, smiling as his boys rattled on about the most random things.

“I reckon I could beat you in a fight, Wil,” Tommy claimed boldly, “One punch. Boom, knock out!” For good measure, Tommy demonstrated his swing. Surprisingly, Phil found himself impressed by Tommy’s technique. 

Wil rolled his eyes. “Sure, Tommy.”

“I’m being serious!” Tommy exclaimed, “It would be close, but I bet I could take you out. Now! Given a knife? I would just start stabbin’ shit.” 

“I hate to say it Tommy but I think Wil’s got you in a knife fight,” Techno argued, “His arms are like two inches longer than yours. In a knife fight, reach is everything.”

“When did you learn the intricacies of a knife fight?” Phil asked jokingly, “Don’t tell me they’re teaching you that at community college.”

“YouTube,” Techno shrugged, “I get bored in class sometimes.” The family of four continued walking, and Tommy continued insisting he could take Wilbur down. As they continued on the route home, they passed an ice cream store, stopping Phil in his tracks.

“Do you boys want to get some ice cream?” Phil asked, “My treat.”

“Fuck yeah!”  Tommy said excitedly, “Dadza! You are the best!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Wil quipped, “But ice cream sounds good to me.”

Phil turned towards his last son. “Techno?”

“When was the last time I said no to ice cream old man?” he asked rhetorically, “‘Course I want some.” The four of them entered the small parlour together, a small bell jingling lightly. The place was quaint, emitting a faint scent of vanilla. Behind the counter stood a young blonde man, about the same age as Techno and Wilbur.

“Dream?” Tommy said, “I didn’t know you had a job.”

“A boys gotta earn money somehow.” the cashier shrugged.

Phil walked up to the counter, placing a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder. “Do you this young man, Tommy?”

Tommy opened his mouth to respond, but Techno spoke before him. “Dream goes to community college with me, he’s the one I was working with on that project the other night.” The cashier nodded silently and waved. “He comes over sometimes, he and Tommy like to… play cards together.”

“Oh, well it’s pleasure.” Phil stuck his hand out for Dream to shake. “I’m Phil, their father.”

Dream reached across the counter, squeezing Phil's hand tighter than expected. “Great to finally meet you, sir.”

“Dad’s gonna buy us some ice cream!” Tommy said helpfully, “What are the flavours?”

“Well, they’re in the tubs Tomathy,” Dream said teasingly, “But before you all order, do you have cash? Our machine is broken.” 

Phil frowned and grabbed his wallet. “I don’t, is there a machine nearby?”

“There’s one across the street,” Techno said helpfully, “I saw it while we were walking.”

“Okay then, I’ll be back,” Phil said, “Don’t be a bother boys.” 

As he walked out he heard Tommy shout from behind him, “When have I ever been a bother?” 

Phil rolled his eyes fondly. He scanned the street, quickly finding the ATM that Techno had mentioned. Looking both ways, he jogged across the street. Just as he was approaching the machine, he was pushed against a wall. He grunted in pain as a man in a ski mask pressed a gun into his side.

“Give me your wallet,” the thief growled, “Give your wallet or I shoot.”

“Okay, okay,” Phil said, attempting to stay calm, “It’s in my pocket. Can I reach for it?” The thief nodded silently but kept his gun firmly in Phil’s side.

As Phil reached for his wallet, a shadow began to grow behind the masked man catching his gaze. “What are you doing?” the thief growled. “Keep moving!” When Phil didn’t answer the other man followed his gaze. “Don’t fucking move.” 

The man pulled the gun away from Phil’s side and turned towards the darkness. He raised the pistol and Phil heard him remove the safety with a small click. 

“Don’t come any closer!” The man yelled, “I have a gun!”

Seconds after the masked man spoke, somebody jumped out of the shadows. In a blur, they tackled the perpetrator to the ground. A gunshot fired, thankfully, nowhere near Phil’s saviour, hitting a wall. From across the street, the blond cashier dashed into the alleyway at inhuman speeds, carrying Tommy in his arms, bridal style. Following close behind was Techno, sprinting towards him from the ice cream shop

Speechless, Phil watched as Tommy leaped from Dream’s arms. In seconds, he snapped his fingers, summoned a ball of light and fired it at the masked man.

“He’s concussed,” Tommy said, “You can get off of him, Wil,”

Phil watched in shock as his oldest son stood up from the ground. Wilbur just sighed and wiped some sweat from his brow. He turned towards the cashier.

“Thanks for the help Dream, but you can forget about the ice cream. I think the three of us need to clear some things up with Phil.”

Dream waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. See ya at school.” He saluted and seconds later, the boy was gone.

The family of four stood in silence, the concussed would-be-thief still passed out on the ground. Phil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me when we get home.”

--

"This ain't what I signed up for."

--

Phil ran his hands through his hair as he attempted to process what his boys had told him.

“Let me get this straight,” he started, “And feel free to interrupt if I get anything wrong. Kristen was part of a race of shadow people and passed those genes down to Wil.” He glanced up quickly, checking for any sign of error.

The eldest son nodded in confirmation. “Technically, we’re called Omens, but essentially yeah. Shadow people.”

“And Tommy and Techno, even though you’re both adopted, also happened to be a part of a super-race,” As he spoke, Phil couldn’t help but pace. “Tommy is a star person and Techno is a… soul person? Do you have names for your race as well?”

“I’m a Reyna and Tommy is an Astra,” Techno explained, “The all-encompassing term is a Radiant.”

“Right. Now, past that, the three of you have been going to a school for super people where you are being trained for war?”

“Well, not war exactly,” Tommy corrected, “Just… defence. Kind of like the FBI.”

“But we are trained in warfare,” Techno said, “To be very clear.”

“Did your mom know?”

“She’s the one that got us admitted to the school,” Wilbur replied, “Schooling starts at eleven.” 

Phil rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry if these are stupid questions it’s just… a lot to process.” He paused and frowned. “Wait. So what will happen when you finish school?”

“We get recruited by agencies,” Techno answered, “Kind of like in sports when they’re picking up college players for the major leagues. Based on your Rank and performance you're chosen by agencies of different levels.”

“How much longer do you have in school?”

“Well I’m in lower school,” Tommy said, “I’ve got two more years of that before three years in Upper School. Techno has one year left in the upper school. This is Wil’s last year.”

“And when you graduate and get collected by these agencies… will you leave? Forever?”

The three brothers looked between each other exchanging silent looks. Wilbur sighed. 

“Not forever,” Wilbur said, “But we will be sent on missions. We could be here for years and then leave for one day. Or, we could be here for one day and leave for years. You never really know.” 

Phil took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He shouldn’t be getting worked up about this, not when he left them alone for years, but he couldn’t help it.

“Okay,” he said, “Just when you have to leave, promise me that you’ll be better than me. That you’ll call when you have free time, and stay the night when you’re in town. Just promise me that. Okay?”

The three brothers were quiet for a second before Techno cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Okay.” Phil smiled, and before they could protest, ran up to his boys and wrapped them in a tight hug.

--

“Never had a doubt.”

Notes:

i hope you enjoyed the first installment of this series! the next (not to give too much away) is about the dream team :D so subscribe to the series if you want to see that when it comes out

Notes:

plan is for this to be a series of short stories in a connected universe :)

Series this work belongs to: