Chapter Text
There was a kid in SBI’s territory.
On its own, that fact posed little problem. As the most powerful crime ring in the city, a single street kid was hardly a large enough issue to be on their radar.
But this was their territory. And SBI took care of their territory and all of the people in it. Since establishing themselves all those years ago, they had made it clear that they would provide protection to those their territory encompassed, especially the children. They set up shelters and kitchens for those on the streets, taking special care to secure safety for the kids who came to them for help.
Their territory may be considered rough to an outsider, but to those within, SBI were the guardian angels of the neighborhood. Deadly angels, perhaps, but angels all the same.
So the fact that— according to their informants— there was a kid out there, sleeping on the streets and refusing help from the shelters—
Well, it was concerning to say the least.
So Technoblade decided to investigate. Unfortunately, his teammates had something to say about that.
“You’re not good with kids,” Wilbur said, like it was a well-known fact.
“I was good with you,” Technoblade pointed out. He could feel irritation building in him. He just wanted to get this over with— find the kid, get him to a shelter, and never think about him again. Problem solved.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Wilbur grumbled. “It took months before I said even one word to you unprompted.”
Phil nodded apologetically. “He’s right, mate.”
“Well, you were jumpy,” Technoblade justified, wrinkling his nose as he thought back to eight-year-old Wilbur, street-kid-anxious, who had stared silently at Technoblade with his wide brown eyes until Phil managed to convince him that Technoblade wasn’t as scary as he looked. (Technoblade would never forgive him for spreading such slander.)
“And you think this kid won’t be?”
“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Technoblade said impatiently. “Whether he likes me or not, I’ll get him to a shelter and be done with it.”
Wilbur and Phil met him with identical unimpressed looks. Every day, Technoblade wondered how it was possible that they weren’t biologically related.
That was how he found himself out in the cold night, flanked on either side by his teammates.
“We didn’t all have to go,” Technoblade said sullenly.
“You need to learn how to deal with children,” Wilbur said. “As your first test subject, I have to say: zero stars.”
Technoblade reached to cuff him over the head, but Wilbur just ducked and laughed. Technoblade couldn’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed. He’d always considered Wilbur to be Phil’s kid— Phil’s pet-project, more like— ever since the older man had taken the kid in off the streets over a decade ago. But despite himself, Technoblade had found himself growing fond of the kid too. Wilbur was one of his own— one of the very few people who could count themselves lucky enough to be in Technoblade’s inner circle. In fact, both members of that inner circle were with him now.
“Niki said he was last spotted in the alley outside of Puffy’s,” Phil said, checking his phone before sliding it into his pocket. “Apparently, he’s been sleeping there for a few days.”
Wilbur winced. The thought went unspoken, but Technoblade knew it was shared between the three of them: It had been below freezing these last few nights.
They approached the alley with an appropriate level of caution. All three were armed, but their weapons weren’t drawn. There was no need to scare the kid if they could avoid it.
At first, Technoblade was sure that Niki’s information was wrong. The alleyway was empty, save for a dumpster and a few broken bottles. Then, what Technoblade had assumed automatically to be a garbage bag, shifted next to the dumpster.
Beside him, Technoblade heard Phil draw in a low breath.
Technoblade let Phil take the lead on this one.
The older man stepped into the alley, letting his shoes scrape deliberately across the pavement. “Hello?” he said, pitching his voice away from that of the Angel of Death. This wasn’t a spy they needed to intimidate. This was a kid, a kid who needed help.
And a kid who was currently launching himself away from them, startled from whatever doze he’d managed to reach curled up on the cold concrete.
“Get the fuck away! I’ll fucking kill you!” The threat would have been slightly more intimidating if the teenager hadn’t erupted into a coughing fit immediately after. He staggered back, one hand raised in defense, the other cupped around his mouth.
“It’s okay,” Phil said quickly, raising his hands. “It’s okay. We’re just here to see if you want to get to a shelter for the night. There’s a safe one a few blocks down—”
“No fucking shelters!” the kid snarled.
“All right,” Phil said easily. “It’s okay.”
“This kid’s fucking feral,” Wilbur muttered, and though his words were harsh, Technoblade could read the concern beneath them. When the kid first moved, Technoblade had automatically shifted to put himself between Wilbur and the unknown. Even now, Wilbur remained slightly behind him, reminiscent of their days when Wilbur was just a kid following him around.
“Are you going to kill me?” The kid’s eyes were wild and his teeth were bared in a promise of violence, but Technoblade could read his fear plainly.
“We’re not going to kill you,” Phil reassured him. “We want to help you.”
The kid didn’t look convinced.
Slowly, Technoblade shifted forward, until he was closer than even Phil. The kid eyed him, but didn’t move.
“Here,” Technoblade said. Slowly, every movement projected, he removed a knife from his belt. He could feel the kid’s eyes fixed on him as he crouched and slid the knife across the pavement. “Now you’re armed. Feel better?”
“Fuck you,” the kid said, but he snatched the knife up and clutched it close, the blade pointed out to face them. “I’m keeping this.”
Technoblade shrugged. “Sure.” It wasn’t like he didn’t have others.
Phil held out his hands, palms turned up, to show that he was unarmed. Technoblade could have snorted; he knew damn well that Phil had at least three weapons hidden on his body at all times. “Are you by yourself, kiddo?”
“I’m not a kid.”
Phil acquiesced. “What’s your name then?”
The boy hesitated visibly before his throat bobbed in resignation. “Tommy,” he said, reluctantly enough that Technoblade knew he was telling the truth.
“Can you tell us what’s going on, Tommy?” Phil coaxed gently.
“What’s going on is three fuckin’ weirdos cornered me in a dark alley and won’t leave me alone,” Tommy hissed.
Technoblade barked out a startled laugh. Tommy flinched at it, but recovered quickly, eyeing Technoblade as if in a new light.
Technoblade shifted forward and Phil let him take the lead, backing up towards Wilbur.
“No shelters, huh?” Technoblade said, brow raised.
Tommy jerked his chin in a nod. The knife remained up.
“Can I ask why?”
“You can ask,” Tommy said evenly. “But I won’t answer.”
“Fair enough.” Funny, Technoblade didn’t remember Wilbur being quite this standoffish in the beginning. Though, maybe that had something to do with the fact that this kid was at least thirteen, rather than eight.
“So no shelter,” Technoblade mused aloud. “It’s cold tonight. What do you plan on doing?”
Tommy waved his free hand haphazardly. “You’re lookin’ at it.”
“What, freezing to death?”
Tommy sneered at him, but it was undercut by his chattering teeth.
Technoblade sighed. “I know you won’t let us take you anywhere, but if I came back with a coat, would you take it?”
Tommy eyed him, his jaw tight with mistrust. “Why would you do that?”
Technoblade shrugged. “You’re a kid. It’s cold.”
“What would I owe you?”
Technoblade blinked in surprise. “Nothing,” he said. “What could you give me that I don’t already have?”
Tommy grimaced, like he knew something Technoblade didn’t.
“I don’t want anything from you,” Technoblade rephrased.
For a long while, Tommy just appraised him. His expression was shrewd as he took in Technoblade’s open stance. Then he nodded slowly.
Technoblade wanted to slump in relief. He wasn’t sure why he’d become so invested in the survival of this kid, but he had. “Is there anything else you want that I can bring?”
Tommy looked even more baffled at that, but after a moment, he bit out, “Water. Sealed.”
Technoblade nodded. “We can do that.”
“Just you though,” Tommy said, his gaze darting between Wilbur and Phil. “Just… just you.”
Technoblade didn’t let his surprise show on his face. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been the first choice for least-frightening, at least when it came to the members of SBI, but Tommy did seem most comfortable with him. Maybe it had been the knife.
“Sure,” he agreed. “Just me.”
For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Then Tommy jerked his head towards the entrance of the alley.
“Go then. If you’re not going to kill me, then leave me alone.”
***
When Technoblade returned to the alley with a coat, two sealed water bottles, and a pocket full of granola bars, Tommy was nowhere to be found.
He tried not to be too disappointed as he piled the supplies in the spot Tommy had been curled up in. He didn’t linger, strolling out of the alley and towards home.
About a block away, he heard something skitter towards the alley. He smiled to himself and continued walking.