Part of my collection of SBI-centric flufftober oneshots. These can all be read as standalone.

Flufftober two: Reunions with 4/4 SBI

His life on the road was not a lonely one.

Phil knew it did appear to others as such. His wandering could so easily be mistaken for aimlessness. His solitude spoke to others of a bare existence. They thought he must be hollow, searching so relentlessly for something he could not name. Phil did not mind, just as he had never minded what others thought of him before he started his travels.

But sometimes, it befell him too. In the darkest nights that felt almost kind to him, almost gentle, Phil wondered what he was truly searching for.

He had seen so much of the world. He had visited cities spoken about by many and villages that did not appear on any map unless you'd draw them on yourself. He had slept underneath the shade of trees, yet the waves crashing at the hull of a ship had also been his lullaby. He had seen wonders so great that language had to struggle to be able to fit them inside it, words falling painfully short when describing their beauty.

But none of what he'd seen was what Phil searched for.

If only he knew what that was, his life would become a whole lot easier.

Once more he found himself in a place unknown to him. Hoisting his bag further up his shoulder and cursing at the weight, Phil looked for the nearest person to ask directions from. He was exhausted, so he would really like to find an inn and call it a day. His standards were low. Anywhere warm that wasn't infested with rodents would do.

The town he had ended up in was so small it only had one lodging. A big, clay and wood building near the village center that doubled as their pub. The smell of ale fell over Phil like a physical thing, not helped any by the loud uproarious laughter of the other guests. Phil hadn't been inside for more than a minute and his head already hurt. To make matters worse, a bard was sitting on a slightly raised podium at the back of the inn, playing his lute for an uncaring audience. He didn't seem to mind them ignoring him, since he was keeping his eyes closed as he sang.

Phil walked up to the bar. "Excuse me."

A rather gruff fellow with bushy eyebrows looked over at him. Their eyes studied Phil from head to toe. A custom greeting for strangers, no doubt. Eventually, they shuffled their way over. "I've only got beer or cider. None of that fancy liquor you rich city folk like."

Phil's appearance could be a bit deceiving.

"I'll take the beer," he answered, unperturbed by the bartender's hostile attitude. This was often how it went in close-knit communities, they were wary of outsiders. Phil wouldn't take it personally. "Also, a hot meal and a bed to sleep in would be great."

The man nodded curtly. "We got plenty of food in the kitchen, I'll get you some. Don't know about the bed though. How do you feel about sharing?"

Phil took the ale they slid across the counter, a dark frothy liquid. "How so?"

"I just rented my last room to songbird over there." The bartender nodded in the direction of the stage, where the bard was putting on his performance. "It's got two beds in it though, so if you sort it out with him I won't put up a fuss."

Nodding, Phil handed them some coins for the drink. "I'll have to ask, I suppose."

He took a seat at one of the corner tables, tucked away to allow for some privacy yet still enabling him to see the stage. It'd be rude of him to interrupt their gig, even if it seemed not a lot of people were paying attention. Well, except for Phil.

The bard was a young man, early 20s if Phil had to guess. He had curly brown hair that framed sharp but pretty features. His eyes were still closed, chin tilted down as he sang. His slender fingers worked the strings with expertise, and once Phil made an effort to cut out the background ruckus, he could tell how well they were playing. Their singing wasn't half bad either.

He didn't know what song they were performing but it sounded vaguely familiar. As if he'd heard it before in a dream.

When they were done, Phil pushed back from his chair. He dug into his pocket as he walked over, finding another stray gold coin. It wasn't much, but nobody else looked inclined to give anything to them for their efforts. And Phil enjoyed their music a lot.

He bent down to drop it in the upturned hat the bard was using to collect tips at the same time as the musician got up himself. "That was some fine talent on display," Phil said easily. If he was going to ask the guy for a favor, he might as well butter him up first.

"Thanks!" The musician went to put his instrument down, looking at Phil as he did this.

That's when they made eye contact.

The memories that flooded Phil were disorienting, overwhelming. Several lifetimes of experiences, of laughter and grief, condensed into a few unbearable seconds. He stumbled back, almost falling onto his ass. The sudden wave of emotions had made him unsteady. The bard - Wilbur, his mind gleefully sung. It's Wilbur, it's Wil. It's your soulmate! - dropped his lute in surprise, his expression a mix of confusion and delight Phil could imagine was mirrored on his own face. The instrument rang out one discordant note as it banged onto the floor.

"What the-" Wilbur's voice broke off into a high-pitched little laugh, sun-flecked hazel eyes searching Phil's face.

"Fuck," Phil finished his sentence for him.

Because the person in front of him was Wilbur, his Wilbur. It was the man Phil had shared his life with over and over and over again, countless times in countless ways. It was a person he'd loved so much it was almost inconceivable Phil hadn't been torn apart by his absence.

It was what Phil had been searching for.

And until a minute ago, he hadn't even realized the eternity they had already spent together but had forgotten.

He inhaled, trying to take a calming breath. But Phil's chest just hitched painfully, heart tight and aching because this was Wilbur and Phil had missed him so goddamn much his whole life without knowing who he was. The mere thought could break him. It felt as if he was making up for lost time, three decades of being without Wil suddenly unfathomable now that they had spent one second together again.

Phil's only consolation was that going by Wilbur's face, he was having the same issue.

"Phil."

Hearing his name spoken by that voice might just destroy him.

They moved at the same time, a desperate plea for that which had been denied from them for too long. Wilbur was taller and still standing on the stage so he nearly toppled Phil when he pulled him into an embrace. Phil didn't care because fucking hell he'd burn the world down right then and there if it meant Wilbur would hold onto him a little longer.

"Phil, Phil, dear gods." His fingers dug into Phil's shoulders as if scared he'd disappear again. "Is this real?"

Phil laughed, closer to a choked sob than anything else. "I don't know."

"It's just- fuck, where do we even start? Sit down, you need to tell me what you've been up to for the past thirty years, man."

But Wilbur didn't actually let go of him. Phil wasn't complaining.

"In a moment," Phil said, pulling him closer still. Burying his hands in soft curls. "I'll tell you everything. I want to hear about your life too, just… Just don't let go yet."

This was too surreal to put into words.

Wilbur hummed his agreement. They had all the time in the world to get to know each other again.

Wilbur couldn't say how long they talked that first night. They were still sitting there when the sun peeked over the horizon and neither of them had slept a wink. Several decades had to be caught up on, both of them had spent so much time traveling.

As the first light of dawn started casting shadows across the room, Wilbur marveled not for the first time how he could have forgotten the golden shine of Phil's hair or the dimples on his cheeks when he smiled, and those long held in words finally dared to be spoken.

"We need to find Techno and Tommy."

Phil's grin did not falter, though Wilbur did not miss the slight strain that slipped into it either. They were not yet complete, the knowledge gained of what they were missing had granted them the ability to miss it.

"I know, but how?"

This was not the first time fate had brought two of them together. It happened over and over and over again. The first pair to find each other again changed, what came after didn't. They had to search for their remaining soulmates before they could truly be happy.

"I think Techno is easy enough to track down," Wilbur remarked lightly. "He's a creature of habit." It was said with clear affection.

Phil nodded "Right, so where's the nearest tournament?"

"Or war, or mercenary group." Wilbur laughed. "I say we follow the bloodshed and we're bound to find him eventually."

They left the inn together, not bothering to get back whatever Wilbur paid to rent the room for a whole week. Every minute longer than necessary they had to spend incomplete would be pure agony.

Technoblade wasn't a hard guy to find. He never was, despite his own efforts. Not rarely had they needed to hunt him down in retirement or self-imposed exile. But there were constants in their universe as certain as their souls were wound together. Phil's wanderlust, Wilbur's music. Technoblade seemed to be unable not to make a name for himself, be it in fame or notoriety. Sooner or later Techno would pull off some incredible feat that got word of his existence out to the masses.

In this lifetime, it was as simple as heading to the capital city.

The arena there held acclaim for many, luring in fighters and gamblers from across the land. Wilbur was not surprised it had drawn Technoblade too. Ambition ran in that man's veins as surely as blood did. Techno was heralded as one of the strongest opponents of the arena, paid handsomely for his performance. If Wilbur knew anything about the man, he knew Techno did not enjoy the fighting. Not in the way some other people did. But it was something to do - to fill his time and make enough money to get by.

They asked around, but predictably enough despite how well-known he was in these parts, nobody could answer their questions on where Technoblade lived with more than a shrug. By their accounts, the feared piglin hybrid just sort of appeared out of thin air when a match was about to start, slinking back into the darkness after. Like a monster, some horrible creature that lived for slaughter and fed on victory. More likely, Techno was no more than an introvert who didn't want anybody to visit him at home. Maybe he lived in the arena itself, Wilbur considered. It wouldn't be the first nor last time that was where Techno slept. But Phil and he went down to the fighter's private quarters and didn't find any sign of him.

A stern man with a mustache that covered half his face ushered them out with a firm hand, telling them they weren't allowed down there.

"We're only looking for a friend," Phil said simply, arms half-raised as if trying to ward off the man hitting them with his cane. "His name is Technoblade, I presume you've heard of him."

"You're wasting your time," the overseer said. He gave Phil a courtesy whack on his shoulder which made Wilbur snort. "Nobody sees that guy unless there's a fight to be had."

Phil batted the cane away. "Well, tell me how to join a fight then."

"You think it's that simple? We don't let just anybody enter the ring, you know? Certified fighters only, I'm running a business here not a peanut gallery."

"Really? Could have fooled me."

The man's eyes fell on Wilbur at his callous words, narrowing a little. "I'll put him in. Only to see him be kicked down a peg or two."

Wilbur raised his hands. "Wait, that's not-"

"You heard the man." Phil clapped him on the back, probably a bit harder than necessary. "Good luck out there, don't let your arse get kicked too badly."

That was how Wilbur wound up on the pitch that afternoon, sweat already sticking to his skin under malformed leather armor. The sand got in his eyes and agitated his lungs, driving home that this was a terrible idea. Really, at this rate, the odds were pretty high that he would die before they'd get to meet Techno. A small mercy came in that retrieving his memories had somehow gifted him some faraway recollection of combat training, sparring with Technoblade of all people. With those, he might make it out alive. No guarantees though.

The shrill cry of a horn rang out over the pitch, announcing the start of the match. Clutching his wooden sword like a lifeline, Wilbur ran into the fray.

He hated this, oh he hated this so fucking much. Technoblade better be grateful Wilbur was risking life and limb just to find him. He ducked underneath an arrow, the flat unsharpened tip coming within inches of breaking his nose. Wilbur bashed his sword into some guy as if it were a blunt weapon. This was horrible.

Then he caught a blur of pink in the mayhem.

Momentarily forgetting he was supposed to try and keep from being clobbered, Wilbur rushed towards it. Technoblade's long hair was pulled up into a bun, his feet were braced apart as he skillfully dealt with whoever came at him. His movements were so smooth it was almost mesmerizing. Unsurprising, he was good at what he did.

He looked exactly like Wilbur remembered and it made his heart soar.

Then he turned around and punched Wilbur square in the jaw.

It hurt like hell, and while it was probably only his imagination Wilbur swore he could hear Phil cackle at him from the arena's stands. Lying on his back in pain and staring up at a sky filled with fluffy clouds, Wilbur thought he probably deserved that punch. Served him right for being foolish enough to run at the unguarded side of a man known to have quick instincts and a penchant for being ambushed.

Technoblade raised his sword again when Wilbur sat up, probably preparing to put him out of commission for the rest of the fight as was what you'd normally do with another competitor. Holding his hands in front of his face, Wilbur tried to save his remaining dignity by crying out, "Wait, Techno wait it's me, it's Wilbur-"

He peeked through his fingers, finally meeting startled red eyes.

The sword lowered only slightly. Techno's expression was deceptively unreadable, though Wilbur had experienced getting his memories back only a few days ago so he knew how unpleasant it could be. He flinched when Techno moved again, halfway convinced he'd still get his knee broken.

But Technoblade brought the sword down on another guy who had been trying to sneak up on Wilbur. Then he reached out his hand for him to take.

Wilbur laughed, probably sounding verifiable insane. He didn't give two shits, because Techno pulled him upright and threw an arm around his shoulder, his warmth seeped into Wilbur's skin. Rough, calloused fingers ruffled his hair.

"It's good to have you back, Wilbur," was all Techno said before he went to finish his match.

He won, of course. And Wilbur forfeited because he wasn't an idiot and he liked all his bones to stay intact, thank you very much. Phil was waiting for them outside, receiving them with (literal) open arms. Similar to that night at the pub, the three of them held onto each other for a ridiculously long time. Long enough for people to give them odd looks. They didn't mind, not even Techno who Wilbur knew would go back to his touch adverse 'I love hugs but I'm in denial about it' self soon enough.

For at that moment, they were almost whole again.

"Bruh, why did Tommy have to be royalty? Couldn't he have reincarnated as a petty thief again, bailing people out of jail is way easier."

Phil laughed while Wilbur poked him in the side with an elbow. Techno did his best to scowl at him for it, but knew he was being ineffective.

"Come on, this is fun though, isn't it? Don't tell me you've stopped enjoying a little danger, Technoblade." Wilbur smirked at him. Techno wanted to punch him again, but the bruise from their meeting had only just faded completely after weeks of cycling through different colors.

"Says the man who made a fuss about getting into the arena," Phil said.

"And the worst you could suffer there was mild injury," Techno added. "If we mess this up, we'll be executed for sneaking into the imperial palace."

The threat of mortal peril did not have any effect on Wilbur. "We don't have a choice though, do we?"

And honestly, they didn't. Tracking Tommy down had taken a while. It was always a bit hard to say where he'd end up. They chased some empty rumors, before coming upon the stories told about this country's prince. Nameless and faceless, an enigma in itself. The tradition was that the heir to the throne was raised in complete anonymity, not allowed to be seen by the people or even leave the castle grounds, going so far as to wear a mask at all times unless they were alone in their room. This to ensure their purity and keep their eyes away from evil. They were tutored and raised by a dedicated army of scholars, tacticians, and generals until they came of age. Then they would choose their own name during some grand ceremony where they were also crowned.

Thankfully, the few personal servants who had seen the prince were prone to gossip. The entire commonwealth knew of a young boy with golden hair and cornflower blue eyes, freckles on his cheeks. He was said to be mischievous but kind, skilled with a sword yet quick to forgive. The royals let them spread this hearsay, because it would only enhance the awe their citizens felt toward their future ruler. They wanted their little prince to be worshipped.

Really, to Techno it sounded more like a cult than anything. And none of them wanted to wait the remaining year it would take for Tommy to turn eighteen before getting him the heck out of that situation. So sneaking into the palace was the logical solution.

Their plan had been carefully laid. Phil smooth talked them into the servant quarters with some lie about him being called to work there as a physician. The guards were too suspicious to let anybody through for such flimsy reasons and with no proof, but they were so thoroughly distracted, it was easy for Wilbur and Technoblade to sneak past them.

They wound through the hallways, ducking behind pillars and into little alcoves to prevent being spotted. It was the middle of the day, they had waited for an opportunity when the king and queen would be out of the castle. The prince would be left with only his personal guards and retainers.

They just had to find a way to meet him.

"Do you think Tommy will let us live here?" Wilbur asked, eyeing the plated gold and marble around them. "It is pretty fancy."

"Hopefully not," Technoblade answered. He was looking at a series of paintings on the wall. All of them showed a previous ruler this country had known. All of them looked appropriately dead inside.

Techno had run an empire once. It was not all that it was hyped up to be.

"Over there." Wilbur was pointing down the south hallway. Their hiding spot provided them with the perfect vantage point to look down it and see the procession of guards coming down it. Two in front, two behind, and two more flanking either side of the teenage prince that walked between them. Tommy was wearing a crown, but it had a strange outward curve to it that allowed a pale red veil to fall delicately from it and cover his face from view.

Yup, definitely a cult.

"How do we get close to him like this?" Techno complained. "Are you expecting me to 1v6 these dudes?"

He probably could if push came to shove, but he wasn't exactly jumping at the idea.

"No," Wilbur said next to him, "I just expect you to talk some sense into Tommy faster than they can run." He stepped out before Technoblade could stop him.

The guards spotted Wilbur immediately, especially because he did a stupid little twirl to catch their attention. Techno really should have punched him preemptively. He was regretting holding back now. Techno watched Wilbur sprint away, partly in disbelief and partly impressed. But he couldn't say it hadn't been effective, all six guards abandoned their escort in pursuit of this intruder.

Probably since Tommy was old enough to find his own way around the castle. He only hesitated a moment, before continuing to wherever he was going. That was when Techno stepped in front of him.

Tommy stared at him. That's what Techno assumed at least since it was impossible to make eye contact through the veil. The fabric must be sheer enough to allow Tommy to be able to see through it.

"Uh, hullo." Techno took an awkward step forward. Why Wilbur would leave the talking up to him was beyond him.

"I have a knife," Tommy said. It took a moment for Techno to register it was meant to be a threat.

"That's cool, kid. Can you lift your weird little face blanket for a sec, I just want to talk to you." Another step.

Tommy pulled out a dagger, brandishing it at him. It looked fancy, old. Techno would bet serious money on Tommy not actually being allowed to have it, he probably stole it from the royal treasury. Some things really never changed, did they?

"One more step and I'll fucking stab you," Tommy hissed.

Nope, some things never changed.

"Look, can you just lift the veil and we can have a conversation like normal, civilized people."

"Fuck off!" Tommy shot back. "You're probably here to kill me."

"I mean, I kind of wished I was. That'd make things a lot easier on me." His humor was lost on Tommy. Techno sighed. "Seriously, just let me see your face and everything will explain itself," he tried. "We know each other."

"Bitch, you're a terrible liar. I think I'd remember if I ever met you before."

Not if you forgot by dying, Techno thought bitterly. But saying that out loud would most likely be counterproductive. Wilbur could be caught by the guards and put in chains at this very moment. Techno didn't have time for this.

"I can prove it," he said.

Some things never changed. Technoblade was counting on it.

"Tommy."

One simple word and the dagger was lowered a fraction. He could hear a sharp, surprised inhale from behind the veil. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Tommy," Techno repeated. "That's what you're going to name yourself, right? It's only a year more until that stupid ceremony, you've probably been planning on a name for ages now. And it's going to be Tommy."

"An heir to our glorious throne would never take a name that stupid. A name like, like… Tommy." There was something pained there. These were not Tommy's words, but those of his 'lovely' parents. Techno supposed it didn't have a very regal ring to it.

"Right, well let me guess then… You're going with Theseus but secretly you're going to make people call you Tommy anyway."

That was when the dagger was dropped to the floor. "How did you-" Tommy started, lifting away the veil in one smooth motion.

Their eyes met.

Technoblade only had a blink to brace himself before the teen barrelled into him, not caring that his weight almost sent them both sprawling to the marbled floor. Tommy's arms found their place wound around his neck, face tucked into the crook of Techno's shoulder and holding him so tight it was near uncomfortable. Holding him so desperately it made Techno want to find whoever these royals were and kill them immediately. He laughed, patting Tommy's back awkwardly.

"I'm happy to see you too, Tommy."

"Shut up," Tommy said, muffled into his shirt. "What took you so fucking long?"

Techno laughed again, trying to step back. "We should probably get the heck out of here."

Tommy shook his head, clinging to him harder. "Just shut the fuck up and let me enjoy this for one minute, will you?"

"Can we make it ten seconds? Wilbur is about to be executed for treason."

Tommy pulled back to look at him, but his arms never left. Techno had to bend down awkwardly to accommodate the half-hug, not that he minded. "Wil's here? What about Phil?"

"He might be arrested too. We should probably go check."

"What the fuck are we waiting for then?!" Finally letting go, his hand slid down to grasp Techno's wrist instead, tugging him along. Begrudgingly, he allowed himself to be carted off. Tommy's wild abundant energy had only been in his life again for a few minutes and he was already exhausted.

This was going to be a long day. And after that would come a long week, a long year, a long lifetime. One they would be spending together, with the four of them. Going on all sorts of adventures, no doubt. Because if his memories were anything to go by, they could never just lead a quiet life in the countryside, could they? Who knew what awaited them this time around...

Personally, Technoblade couldn't wait to find out.