requested by ColorfullyMonochrome, this is quite different from what I usually write but that made it fun!

Modern Au, foster!dad Phil with Wil, Techno and Tommy as his kids

Technoblade knew how much his family relied on him, how much they needed him.

Phil worked long hours to keep a roof above their head. He was gone in the morning before Techno woke up, and often didn't get home until way after dinner. When he was around, it was impossible for Techno not to notice the bags beneath his eyes, the perpetually open laptop Phil was using for 'just some after-hours work, don't worry Tech.'

Wilbur was in his final year of high school, he had college applications and his upcoming finals to keep busy with. Any free time was spent hanging out with his considerable friend circle - Wilbur was more popular than Techno could ever hope to be with his social anxiety - or at the theater club after school. Plus his band was starting to gain traction online.

And then there was Tommy. Tommy was a kid, he shouldn't be worrying about anything except starting middle school in a few months.

So that left Technoblade to pick up the slack.

He set his clock for six am sharp. Most mornings, he could hear Phil's car pulling out of the garage while he was grabbing clothes and brushing his hair, getting ready for the day. Then he went downstairs to fix up breakfast and make packed lunches.

(In the past Phil often left him a note. Thanking Techno for helping out, wishing them a nice day at school. These days, Phil probably didn't have time for notes though)

For Wilbur, he prepared ham and cheese sandwiches, carrot sticks Techno put in a little plastic baggie to keep fresh, and a bottle of soda. He put Wilbur's emergency inhaler with his lunch too, because Wilbur always forgot it and Techno shuddered to think of him having an asthma attack at school without it. Tommy got ham-cheese sandwiches too, but a banana instead of carrots, and Techno packed him a chocolate chip cookie for after. He made his own lunch with whatever was left.

By then Wilbur had usually come downstairs, curls a mess and body still warm from sleep. He always came over to Techno first to kind of drape himself over him in a half-hug and mutter about how happy he was that Techno hadn't grown taller than him yet. With a laugh, Techno shrugged him off to go upstairs and get Tommy out of bed too.

They ate together and Techno cleaned up while the other two ran around in a frenzy looking for their stuff. Ever since he got his license last year Techno was the one who drove them around because Wilbur hated being behind the wheel. He said it made him nervous. They dropped Tommy off at elementary school first before getting to their high school. Wilbur was waving through the window at a group of his classmates, nearly jumping out of the car before Techno had come to a full stop.

Then he had to spend the rest of the day paying attention in class which was something Techno was not equipped to handle at all. Even after fighting tooth and nail to be allowed to use his stim toys during class – even after explaining over and over again to ableist teachers that they helped him focus and they weren't disruptive at all and there was no reason for him not to use them – he often left them in his bag. It wasn't worth the annoyed glances or rolling of the eyes.

At lunch, Wilbur would make Techno sit with him and his friends and he would nod along to conversations he couldn't follow.

After school he picked up Tommy alone because Wilbur had club or was meeting the band or he was hanging out at somebody's place. Tommy spent the entire ride home bouncing in his seat. Techno knew he tried hard to contain his stimming at school too, probably for the exact same reasons Techno did. Before going inside he made Tommy race him around the backyard thrice, to burn that excess energy off.

Because he knew Tommy had a procrastination problem, Techno always made him start on his homework right away. Tommy needed a lot of help with it too. Not because he wasn't a smart kid – quite the contrary, really. It was staying concentrated and following specific instructions and doing everything in a certain order that made schoolwork an uphill battle for Tommy's neurodivergent brain.

Technoblade knew exactly how that felt, but he'd learned all the tricks. All he could do was show Tommy what worked for him.

When he was done Tommy needed to decompress. He liked playing video games with his noise-canceling headphones on or sometimes he build with his blocks or worked on his coloring books. Techno rubbed his face and got started on his chores. Doing the laundry, cleaning the house, preparing dinner. He knew Phil would say he was doing too much, that it wouldn't kill them to deal with dirty dishes for a change. But Techno couldn't quite express that he couldn't.

He couldn't let things be 'not done' if he was around to do them and also not doing them would make him feel lazy and like a bad brother and an even worse son and Phil had already taken them in from the goodness of his heart, he wasn't required to take care of them but he did and the least Techno could do was repay him and-

He shook his head violently. Stopped to clench and unclench his hands in time with his breathing, rocking on his feet until the heavy feeling of a looming meltdown could pass.

What's next?

Finish dinner, by then Wilbur would be home. Put one portion in the fridge for Phil. Afterward, Techno needed to do the dishes and make sure the kitchen was spotless. And homework, he needed to do his homework. His grades were slipping, he had been an honor student for... for as long as he could remember and Techno would really rather kill himself than break that streak. He had essays due for the end of the week and three tests tomorrow he needed to study for.

(Techno didn't often go to bed before midnight.)

Not that there was much else he could do. His family needed him.

He was so tired lately, he got out of bed feeling as if he hadn't slept at all. His hair was more of a mess than it should be, but he couldn't bother showering and put it into a bun instead. He went downstairs to prepare food – no note, there hadn't been a note in a long while.

Packed lunches first, then breakfast. Wilbur rushed downstairs at the expected moment but was in such a hurry Techno barely had time to register his arrival. He scooped up his lunch and yelled something about meeting Niki and some others at a coffee shop before school started before rushing outside. Techno didn't get time to ask him more before the door slammed shut.

Tommy was in an off mood. Techno couldn't tell why and Tommy could be horribly stubborn sometimes, refusing to share. The only thing Techno could get out of him was that he'd gotten into a fight with Tubbo yesterday, and it left him fuzzy and unable to do his usual routines. Which meant he wasn't wanting to go to school. Getting him to put on his clothes and prepare his bag felt more like a wrestling match and in the end, Techno didn't have time to eat anything before they had to leave. He didn't wanna risk being late.

Which turned out to be a fruitless effort anyway because Tommy refused to get out of the car once they got to his school. He kicked and screamed and basically made Techno's life a living hell for all of ten minutes until Tubbo came and they got to make up whatever fight had sparked Tommy to feel unable to go through with his normal routines. Watching them hug it out, Techno was glad for his little brother but also frustrated that he was missing the first period for this.

Predictably, he got to class and found out he'd missed one of the tests he studied so hard for, with the teacher letting him know he could retake it tomorrow with a grade deduction as a penalty. Technoblade bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood before thanking her politely for her consideration. The other two tests went fine but he actually got back a math assignment he'd flunked which ruined the rest of his day.

Techno really, really thought he'd understood the instructions. Turned out he was wrong.

Now he'd probably go from his regular A- to a B+ and then a C and before he knew it he'd be failing that class. He could already see it happening. His university applications would all turn him down, he'd go the road of all 'gifted' kids and end up a burn-out at 24. He was sure of it.

And now that he'd started worrying about that, of course it would be impossible to turn it off again.

At least Wilbur wasn't around at lunch. Techno hid in some corner of the library and listened to music at a volume that was likely to permanently damage his ears to clear his head.

The rest of the day passed in a daze, he probably didn't take notes for any of his classes as meticulously as he should. He'd have to text Skeppy later and ask him if he'd paid attention (not likely, but Skeppy was the only person Techno considered a friend, and thus the only person he could ask).

When Tommy got into the car, the first thing he said was, "I'm sorry about this morning."

Techno felt too tired to smile, but he made an effort anyway. "You don't have to be sorry, Tommy. You didn't do anything wrong. Brain stuff, remember. We don't apologize for brain stuff. We just work on getting better at dealing with it."

Techno would know. He was, after all, not any different.

"I know," Tommy answered, chewing his thumb. "Still sorry though."

As an extended apology, Tommy totally let him win the race around the garden that day - Techno could tell. He didn't mention it, though it made him feel so incredibly bad - as if there was a pit in his stomach that kept growing.

He decided to be lazy for dinner, putting some ready-made lasagna in the oven while he got a head start on his homework. Maybe if he worked hard, he could salvage his grades or convince his teacher to give new assignments for extra credit. Maybe if he didn't screw up again, he wouldn't have to feel like he ruined his life.

Except Wilbur came home and pointed out he'd screwed up again.

"Did you know my favorite shirt turned pink?"

"Your what?" Techno asked absentmindedly, not really able to pay attention when he was tired and his head felt like bursting.

"My shirt?" Wilbur was holding it up with one hand and, yeah, okay, Techno was pretty sure that shirt was supposed to be white at some point, with a pale grey logo printed on it from some concert Wilbur had gone to. "Whoever did the laundry must have accidentally put it in with the colored wash."

"Oh..." Techno rubbed his eyes. "That was probably me."

It was definitely him, nobody else ever did the laundry.

"I figured," Wilbur said, not unkindly. Not like he was mad, or upset, or any of that at all really. Then why did his words feel to Techno as if they were flaying him open, digging into his flesh? "Just wanted to let you know, to like, be more mindful next time."

(He screwed up, again.

He always told himself his family needed him but maybe he was wrong. Maybe they'd be better off without him and it's not like they cared anyway. Something bitter and vile was working its way up his throat-)

Their garage door made enough noise when opening to be heard through the entire house. Tommy sprinted down the stairs and almost missed the last two steps, both arms outstretched to keep himself from slamming into the wall.

"Dad's home early!"

"Yeah smartass, we noticed," Wilbur told him teasingly, catching Tommy around the waist before he could run into the garage. "Let the man take his coat off before you mob him, Toms."

Tommy stuck his tongue out at him.

Techno wished he could continue with his homework in peace. He kind of wanted to retreat to his room, but then he'd seem like an asshole for not sticking around the one time Phil was home to join them at dinner and-

Dinner.

He jumped up, banged his knee on the underside of the table but ignored the pain in favor of rushing to the kitchen. Black smoke was all he could see inside the oven and it escaped in waves when Techno pulled it open, flicking the button to turn it off with his other hand. He coughed at inhaling some of it and threw the door closed again, realizing their lasagna was beyond saving. "Shit!"

"Techno?" Tommy asked in the tiniest voice from the doorway. Techno never swore if he could help it.

"What's going on?" Phil asked, coming up behind him with Wilbur in tow. He put his hand on Tommy's head automatically, stroking his hair softly to calm him down.

"I burned dinner," Techno spat out, angry at himself.

"You left it in the oven?" Phil asked to confirm. It wasn't an accusation but to Techno it definitely felt like one.

He didn't know why but he felt tears sting at his eyes. Maybe he could shrug them off as caused by the smoke. Instead of answering, he nodded because he didn't trust his voice not to break.

"We can order in. Let's just throw this out first, Wil can you open a window?" Phil was doing what he did best, taking control of a situation Techno had completely fucked over.

And his hands were moving without him noticing, slamming into his own legs. Over and over as if it in any way would help.

"Techno, Tech listen to me." Phil had caught his wrists, moving his arms to his sides. Techno kind of hated it when he did that, but he knew Phil was just trying to keep him from hurting himself. "It's just a lasagna, it's fine."

Techno bit his lip, exhaled through his nose so he could answer. "No, it's not just a lasagna." At Phil's confused expression, he saw no choice but to elaborate. "I missed my test and I'm failing math and because of me Tommy felt the need to apologize for something that wasn't even remotely his fault and then I ruined Wilbur's shirt but not just any shirt his favorite shirt that he wears all the time especially when he's sad and now he can't wear it anymore because I messed up and we don't have dinner either and-"

He needed to stop to breathe, he wasn't breathing. But the words wouldn't stop pouring out.

"-and I need to be useful and do all these things because nobody else will do them and they need to get done but I'm so tired lately-"

"Techno, stop."

His mouth shut automatically, his chest hitched painfully.

Phil pulled him in for a hug. "Clearly I'm the one who messed up for not noticing this before. You seemed to be doing so well handling everything I never stopped to ask if you actually were. I just... selfishly assumed you would. That was wrong of me."

Techno wanted to shake his head but he couldn't really do that with Phil's arms locked around him.

"Me too, Tech. I'm really sorry, if you want me to help more all you need to do is ask. I'm here for you man." Then Wilbur attached himself to the hug as well and it wasn't like he had any dignity left to preserve anyway, Techno might as well start crying huh? Not like he could stop himself at this rate. "And hey, I can totally still wear the shirt, you know? It'll just be pink now, pink is a great color on me. It'll remind me of you whenever I wear it."

"Shut up," Techno told him, eloquent as ever when he was literally on the verge of sobbing.

Tommy practically squeezed himself into the group embrace at this point, hands clinging to Techno's back. "Thank you for taking care of us," he murmured into Techno's chest in a display of that core empathy only Tommy could pull out of nowhere. It really was all too much.

Techno hadn't cried in ages and it felt like his body was determined to make up for lost time. When he was done his eyes were red and puffy and he was even dizzier than before – which made this the perfect time for him to acknowledge he had actually skipped breakfast and lunch, a fact that was probably contributing to his lightheadedness.

Of course, Phil chided him appropriately and told him to take better care of himself.

"But I suppose since you were making dinner for us, it's only fair you also get to choose what we order in." He handed Techno the phone. "And don't let Tommy bribe you into getting pizza again if you don't want to, I know he did that last time."

"Pizza sounds great actually," Techno said, to Tommy's shouts of approval.

And sitting on the couch that night with his family around him shoving pizza in their faces while Wilbur gave a running commentary on Tommy's movie of choice (Up, because what else) it really did feel to Techno as if some great weight had been lifted off him and he could finally breathe again.