Requested by HalfBlack_Blue, we have a bit of a role reversal here with Phil being the one who is sick and Techno being an anxious idiot taking care of him. Also just because I wanted to write platonic cuddles...

The gale was strong enough to rattle the windows on Technoblade's cabin, shaking under the sheer force of the storm raging outside. The glass panes had been covered in a translucent sheet, making it impossible to look out on the tundra regardless of it also being near nightfall. Once in a while, the wind would turn and send a new flurry of snow building against the outer walls.

Techno was glad to be inside as opposed to out there. He was toiling away at his brewing stand out of sheer boredom, crafting invisibility and strength potions he didn't actually need. But the familiar, repetitive motions gave him something to do while he was still too awake to fall asleep.

What he didn't expect was for the door to burst open rather forcefully, dumping a heap of snow onto his living room floor accompanied by a thoroughly soaked Phil.

The older man stood there for a moment, back pressed against the door he had closed behind him and staring at the interior with weirdly dull, unfocused eyes. Technoblade couldn't help but notice how pale he was, with the exception of his cheeks and nose which were shaded red from the cold. "This isn't my house," Phil decided after a moment of taking in his surroundings.

"Nope, but you can stay," Technoblade told him with a snort. He got up from the brewing stand, face creasing into a frown as he got closer to Phil and inspected the terrible state he was in. "What were you even doing out there?"

"I was on my way back from the village, but got sidetracked and caught in the storm." Phil allowed Techno to lead him over to a chair, sitting down with an audible wet squelch. His clothes were heavy and draping around his body, oversaturated with melted snow. He lifted his hat from his head and dropped it on the table, where it promptly started forming a puddle beneath itself. Techno scowled.

Pressing the underside of his hand against Phil's face, he could feel how icy cold his skin was. The slightest trembling wavered underneath Techno's touch. "I think you almost froze solid." It was meant as a joke, but there was some genuine concern buried beneath.

"I'm fine, Tech." Phil leaned into his hand a little. "Just tired."

And that was a sign of hypothermia wasn't it? Technoblade did his best to shake the ominous thought.

"I'll make us some tea and you can sleep over." It went without saying that Phil could use the bed. Techno would be content to take the couch or maybe skip on sleep altogether. "I'm pretty sure I have some old spare clothes of yours upstairs?"

As he went about boiling the water and preparing the cups the voices reminded him to check up on Phil periodically. They urged him on in his worry, only amplified by the way Phil didn't seem to do much but sit there and shake the water from his feathers. Once, he broke the silence with a sudden sneeze.

"Phil?" Techno urged.

Rubbing his eyes, Phil got up. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going." He disappeared up the ladder, Techno hovering below awkwardly just in case he tripped and fell. Phil shook him away with a fond chuckle. By the time he came down – having removed his dripping haori and replaced it with an old shirt Techno couldn't even remember owning – the tea was done.

Phil sipped it slowly while Techno leveled a glare at him. "Are you sure you're fine? Are you sick?"

"I'm not sick," Phil said. As if to undercut this statement, another sneeze escaped him, followed by a coughing fit so bad Techno was scared he was going to hack out an entire lung. He stood up and then realized he had no idea what to do to help, flitting around nervously at a loss for what to do.

Techno did not have any experience with caring for sick people. He could count the times he had been sick himself on one hand, and whenever Tommy or Wilbur had gotten the flu when they were younger Technoblade had just done his best to stray far out of their way.

He regretted that now. What did he need to do? Hypothermia could be really bad, could mean lost fingers or toes or limbs. It could be lethal. Maybe Phil got a cold, maybe he had frostbite. What if Phil was dying?

Phil wasn't dying, was he?

The voices all agreed that, no - Phil was probably not dying. Techno got him a healing potion just in case. Phil rolled his eyes at him as if the gesture was a matter of dramatics. Techno couldn't say out loud that he was anxious enough to want to force the liquid down Phil's throat if he wouldn't take it willingly.

"Don't worry about it. In the morning I'll be as good as new," Phil said, seemingly reading Techno's mind. He stretched his arms above his head, unfurling his wings a little but wincing at the motion. The feathers had gotten ruffled and displaced in the storm's heavy winds, the muscles near the scapula clearly experiencing aches.

Technoblade gladly latched onto the notion. "Want me to fix those before we go to bed?"

It was a bit embarrassing, he hadn't actually offered to help Phil preen them in ages. As kids, Wilbur and Techno used to do it a lot, perceiving it almost as a sort of game. The habit had persisted as he grew older though, especially after Techno admitted it calmed him down somehow. The task required a certain amount of concentration and fine motor skills, making it the perfect distraction for when he needed to redirect his brain into focusing.

Still, the last time he'd done it had to be years ago by now.

Phil smiled at him. "I'd like that, actually. They're a mess."

He sat on the couch cross-legged, Techno taking his place behind him. Despite the time that had passed it was an easy routine to fall back into, and a calming one. He smoothed his hands down those wings first to brush them out a bit, then starting near the outer primaries and working his way inward towards the base Techno began the meticulous process of laying them back into place. Phil hummed softly as he did it, sometimes moving in place a bit to ease the preening. He wasn't shivering anymore.

They didn't speak, comfortable in their shared silence. When Techno was nearly done Phil was already leaning back against him, skin not as cold and clammy as it was when he came in. Techno still reached for the blanket he kept thrown over the armrest and draped it over Phil instead, to keep him warm.

His breathing evened out a few minutes later too. Techno tried to shift into a position that would allow him to get up from the couch, but couldn't find a way of doing that without waking Phil up. Resigning to his fate, he settled for getting slightly more comfortable by resting against the cushions, carefully listening for any shortness and wheezing in Phil's breath or other signs he had been lying about being sick.

When he found none, Technoblade could finally relax. Surely he had been worried about nothing and Phil would be fine. A measly snowstorm would never be enough to harm Philza Minecraft, really.

Satisfied and with his arms still curled tightly around Phil's body, Techno let the pull of sleep take him too.