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

Flufftober four: cuddle time + "When did you last sleep?"


Their bad habits are often left unspoken.

They're observed. Technoblade can pretend not to notice how Phil throws himself into some new project to outrun his thoughts. Or how he wanders for hours on bad days, as if he doesn't even worry about getting back safe. But Phil knows that Techno recognizes a pattern. Techno never asks him about it or tells him not to, when he comes home there's simply a cup of tea already waiting on the table and a blanket warmed by being put close to the fire.

Phil sees Techno wrangle grief like it's a rabid animal.

As if approaching it from the wrong side will get him bitten. Technoblade is normally rather straightforward in… everything, really. It's one of the things Phil appreciates in their friendship. Between the two of them, there's no secrecy. There are certainly secrets, Techno and him aren't joined at the hip. They don't need to share every second of their lives as if their breaths exist in the same lungs. They respect that there are parts of each other's being that they can have no claim to yet, which will only be shared when they're ready.

But in the end, they always come back to each other.

Neither of them is a stranger to loss. And Phil is not a stranger to grief as much as grief is that disliked relative which visits when he least desires them to but which he has accepted as an integral part of the universe. Life and death. Things exist and then they don't. Phil persists.

The trick is to get attached enough to let something be loved, yet keep it unable to destroy you with its demise.

And sure, Phil can't say he has always followed his own advice but he tries.

The shack across from Technoblade's cabin haunts him. It haunts both of them. Techno has been visiting it to feed the animals and when he comes back he goes straight to bed to sleep for an hour or two. It's the only sleep he gets these days since his nights are spent on anything but sleep. Phil knows Technoblade is prone to nightmares.

Whenever Phil asks how he's doing, Techno will brush him off with some answer of "I'm fine" or "same as usual" or "Phil I have a ridiculous amount of chores but all I want to do is finish my book actually" and Phil won't pry because he trusts Techno to indicate when he needs help.

But there is a grief inside him for the boy they trusted and who was scared of the world and who wanted to be happy and make others happy. Phil misses Ranboo. He misses him so, so much.

He just wishes Techno would allow himself to admit the same.

Where words fail them, actions have always picked up the slack.

"Are you almost done with this?"

Techno hums absently, drawing back from the forge. The cabin is unusually warm because Techno leaves it on even when he's not using it anymore. Phil knows it's a piglin thing. Heat spells comfort for their species.

"Almost," Techno amends eventually, realizing his noise of agreement was not much of an answer.

"Good," Phil says. "I want you to help me with my leg."

Techno's back straightens a bit, tail twitching in surprise. "It's been botherin' ya?"

Smiling to himself, Phil sits down on the couch. "A little." It's not a lie, only because his chronic pains have become a daily occurrence lately. More importantly though, Phil knows it will get Techno to stop with the crafting he's been occupied with for almost eighteen hours now. There's a towel on the forge where Techno has been wiping the blood off his hands, skin broken by overexertion.

He lays out the blanket over the back of the cushions, patient for Techno to put down the iron with a sigh. Phil waits for him, scooting back so his friend can take his place in front of him. They've done this a million times, a routine as familiar as Phil braiding Techno's hair or Techno preening his wings. Techno leans forward to grab his leg and stretch it, putting the ankle in his lap.

"Up or down?" he asks.

"Up, mostly." Phil traces a finger from his knee up to his hip. "Like that."

"It's because you don't use your cane often enough," Techno says mildly, starting to slowly pull and rotate the limb. Phil hisses slightly, muscle twitching painfully but in a way that indicates it's releasing some built-up tension. It always hurts at first before getting better.

Phil shakes his head. "And be called an old man even more often than I already am? No thanks."

"You'd rather we call you a cripple?" Techno laughs. "Because that's how you're going to end up if you keep being stubborn."

"Shut it."

His reply is slightly diminished by a sharp hiss when Techno pushes his leg up. It's a full-body twitch of pain Phil can not entirely ignore. Techno waits, allowing Phil to make the call.

"Yeah, you can stop," Phil says breathlessly. His leg is about as fucked as it can get, no physical therapy in the world would fix how messed up it's become. It's not like they don't both know this was just a ploy to get Techno on the couch anyway.

"Come here?" He opens his arms.

Techno doesn't even put up a token effort, falling into them immediately.

"When was the last time you slept?" Phil asks. He pulls Techno closer, fingers cradling through pink hair. "You look like crap."

Techno grunts some non-commital response. "Not tired," he decides eventually. The effect is diminished when he wraps his arms tighter around Phil at the same time, smothering him beneath him a bit. Using Phil's chest as a glorified pillow, basically.

"Well, I am," Phil says. He pulls the blanket down from the couch's backrest, draping it over both of them. "And this is much cozier. So stay with me?"

Pressing his forehead against Phil's collarbone, Techno shrugs. "I guess."

His weight is nice, solid. Phil doesn't have to press the issue and Techno doesn't have to say anything and when he's on the cusp of falling asleep it's Techno who breaks the silence first.

"I miss him," is all he says. But his voice sounds as if even this confession can break it.

"I know," Phil answers. "I do too."

Techno falls asleep not much after and Phil isn't far behind. The emptiness between them is filled with warmth.

And across from the cabin stands an empty shack that Phil knows will remain there forever, cared for as dearly as its owner once was.