One More Step Out of the Pit

chapter 11

"More tea?" Wilbur asked, leaning against the counter, and watching as his dad bustled around the kitchen. He'd taken dinner to the kid a couple of hours ago and was just resurfacing now. "You know he doesn't have strep, right?"

"He likes the tea," Phil defended.

"He probably just wants you to forget about the thermos one of these times so he can have a weapon."

Phil shrugged, unconcerned. "That may be part of it too," he conceded, "but he definitely also likes the tea. You should have seen his face light up. Anyway, it's good to keep fluids down him."

"Mmm," Wilbur agreed.

"Anyway, I should probably be getting this too him," he said, screwing the lid back on.

"You know, you can leave him alone for more than 5 minutes at a time, right?" Wilbur asked.

Phil paused for a moment. "I just... he's..."

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "At least actually go to bed tonight," he said. "You didn't sleep at all last night. You don't want to fall asleep in the same room as a captured hero." Phil did not seem to like that idea and Wilbur rolled his eyes harder. "I'll watch him through the night, how about that?"

Phil pursed his lips, giving him a very skeptical dad look.

"No light torture, I promise," Wilbur swore. The skeptical look did not leave. "At least not until he's healed up," and also stopped looking at Will like... that. The caveat on his promise seemed to soothe Phil's distrust.

"Fine," he agreed. "I am a bit tired."

Wilbur smiled. "I'll tell him all about the weeds."

Phil reached over to pinch his arm. "You are not too old to ground," he threatened.

"I am way too old to ground," Wilbur laughed.

"Not to me," Phil said. "I'm still your dad."

"Yeah, yeah," Will said. "Go take the gremlin his tea. It better be decaf because he's a lot more tolerable asleep than awake and jacked up on caffeine."

"It's just tea, he'll be fine," Phil said, pressing a kiss to Wilbur's forehead before walking out of the room.

Oh god, the kid was going to be a nightmare tonight.

Sighing at his father's foolishness, he left the kitchen and headed to his room. He frowned when he opened the door. His room had gotten a lot messier as of late, not that he was a particularly organized person to begin with (unlike Technoblade). Random things were strewn about and there was a pile of bags he vaguely remembered the contents of stacked near his closet. He should clean up soon.

He sat on his bed and grabbed his guitar from its designated spot near his nightstand. He idly began to strum a tune. His guitar playing was unrelated to his powers. They worked just as well without it and he had perfect pitch, so he didn't need any help getting the right notes. He just liked it.

There was a knock on his door a few minutes later, and by process of elimination, he knew who it must be.

"It's open," he said, continuing to play.

Technoblade opened the door and stepped inside his room. His face scrunched up an almost indiscernible amount at the mess that was Wilbur's room, but then he returned his attention to Wilbur. "You're not singing," he commented.

"Didn't feel like it," he replied, sliding his fingers and shifting from playing a tune in D major to B flat just to give himself something slightly harder to concentrate on.

"You?" Techno asked. Wilbur didn't reply. "Are you brooding?" There was a tinge of amusement in his voice. "I thought that was more of an angsty superhero thing." Wilbur just shrugged. "Of course," he continued. "Phil does it too. Maybe it's just a your bloodline thing. He usually does his on top of buildings though."