How I Met Your Mumza

Chapter 2

A small monotone voice and an American accent make Phil realize he has the wrong kid.

TWs: Swearing

Phil returned to the living room with a bottle of Febreze, spraying it around to reduce the smell of burnt popcorn. Wilbur followed behind him with a fresh bowl of popcorn. They were welcomed back to their seats, settling down quickly.

"Ok, now that Wil's popcorn disaster is over, can we get back to the story?" Tommy asked excitedly, Wil glaring at him while he stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

Phil chuckled at his youngest, his eyes crinkling at their edges. "Sure Toms," he replied, continuing with his story.

~~~~~~~~~~

Phil woke up as he felt the plan take a downward turn, preparing to land. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he glanced at the other passengers around him, many who were waking up as well. He turned to look at his son, expecting to find him wide awake, but he was slumped in his seat, fast asleep.

The airport must have really tired him out, Phil thought to himself. Wil never sleeps this long, especially without waking me up. Phil nudges the sleeping boy next to him, getting a muffled sleepy noise in return. Phil shakes him a bit harder, the boy cracking an eye open as he does. The tired boy yawned, stretching out as he awoke.

"You tired there mate?" Phil asks his son, smiling down at him.

"Yeah, I'm tired," the boy replies. Phil's smile quickly turns into concern as he processed the very American accent that just came from the boy.

Brushing off his confusion, Phil reasons that Wilbur is just messing with him. "Wil, why are you talking like that?"

"I'm not Wil," the boy said quietly, his body tightening in on itself. "My name's Technoblade."

Phil just stared at the boy in front of him, trying to make his brain understand whatever the hell was happening. All it shouted was oh shit that's not my son, over and over again, much to Phil's dismay. Before Phil could even begin to try to make sense of what was happening, the people around him started to rise from their seats, reaching into the overhead compartments to grab their bags and strolling down the aisle of the plane. Phil and Technoblade followed suit, Phil holding the boy's hand as they were ushered out of their seats and down the aisle by the flight attendants.

Once inside the airport terminal, Phil pulled the boy to a set of benches, sitting next to him. Phil spoke to the boy in a calm, even tone, trying not to scare him any further. "Hey there mate. Do you think you can tell me how you got here with me?" Phil asked.

The boy shifted in his seat, playing with the zipper on his bag. "I was in the store with my mom and then you took my hand and lead me onto the plane. You were mad that we were late or something," Technoblade replied matter-of-factly.

Phil was once again shocked by the boy, this time at the tone he used. He sounded like a mini adult, getting straight to his point. Phil tried not to let out a soft giggle of amusement at this boy's stark manner paired with his squeaky yet monotone voice.

As Phil slowly came to terms with the fact that he had lost his son and somehow picked up someone else's, his brain started to finally give him a few good suggestions. First, he had to figure out who this boy's mom was.

"Technoblade, do you know your mum's phone number?" Phil asked, praying he did as he pulled out his phone.

"Yeah," Technoblade answered shyly. "Here," he added, reaching for the phone in Phil's hand. Phil handed the phone over to the small boy, watching as he typed his mother's number into the phone.