Reptilian//Tommyinnit//SBI Adoption AU

𒆜🆁🅴🅿🆃🅸🅻🅸🅻🅰🅽 // 🆃🅾🅼🅼🆈🅸🅽🅽🅸🆃 🅰🅳🅾🅿🆃🅸🅾🅽 // 🆂🅱🅸𒆜

𒆜🆁🅴🅿🆃🅸🅻🅸🅻🅰🅽 // 🆃🅾🅼🅼🆈🅸🅽🅽🅸🆃 🅰🅳🅾🅿🆃🅸🅾🅽 // 🆂🅱🅸𒆜

Chapter Five 1069 Words

Technoblade Limited Third Person

"Dad, Wil, you in the kitchen?" Technoblade called from the bottom of the stairs. "Yup! Did you find out what his triggers and disorders were?" Phil exclaimed, his tone softing to something sad at the end.

"I- uh.. Yeah." Techno informs awkwardly, shifting its weight into its right foot.

"Good, you got the child's probably many unreasonable 'triggers'." Wilbur snarked, his tone becoming one of a mock at the end.

"Wilbur." Philza barks, shutting Wilbur up with a glare.

"Whatever. What are they?" He mumbles, changing the subject.

Techno clears its throat, awkwardly walking in front of the kitchen island where the two were seated. "Er, the disorders are: Anxiety, Social Anxiety, Separation Anxiety, ADHD, and PTSD." Techno says, shifting its gaze away from the slightly guilty-looking Wilbur. "He just- told you, all, uh, all of that? Right away?"

Phil questions, tripping over his words slightly. "Kinda. He mumbled it, only making the 'ADHD' audible. By the way, when Tommy mumbles, it means he doesn't want you to hear what he's saying." Techno informs, standing awkwardly.

"Ah. Well, what are his triggers?" Phil questions softly, eyes flitting between Techno and the steaming cup of tea that's resting in his hand.

Techno goes silent, trying to figure out how to say it without stuttering due to the immense amount of awkwardness filling the room.

"Touching his waist or below, pinning/holding his wrists and touching his jaw triggers him."

"That's.. Concerning. Is there anymore we should know about?"

"Yeah. Absolutely no pet names," It started, shooting a look at Wilbur, who was very clearly stifling a whine at Technoblade's words.

"And don't touch him without permission," It continues, looking over to Phil, whom of which has a tendency to randomly give out hugs or high-fives.

"And no drinking around him." It finished, also directing its words towards Wilbur, and by occasion Phil.

"Hm. Oh! Emily should be home soon, she had to perform an emergency Appendectomy earlier today and it lasted longer than estimated." Phil informed, chuckling as the garage door could be heard opening.

"Boys! I'm ho- Oh. Hello!" Emily exclaimed, walking into the kitchen, only to be met with the faces of her husband and two of the children in her family. "Where's Tommy?" Emily asked, placing her baggage down and taking her seat next to Phil.

"Upstairs, I think he needs a minute." Phil said, handing a cup of coffee to Emily. "Oh? What's wrong?" She questioned worriedly, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Nothing, nothing, Tech just had to ask about his triggers and disorders so he's probably a bit shaken up," Phil explained, standing up.

Phil walked around the kitchen island and placed his mug into the sink. "What are they, anyways?" She asked, glancing at an arguing Wilbur and Techno.

"Well, since Techno isn't gonna tell you, I suppose I will. Touching his waist or below, pinning/holding his wrists and touching his jaw triggers him, along with pet names. Oh! Make sure to ask before touching him and don't drink around him." Phil said.

"That's.. A lot. Any disorders I should be cautious of?" Emily asked, gently grabbing the collar of Techno's dress shirt and pulling it and Wilbur apart.

"Mhm. Anxiety, Social Anxiety, Separation Anxiety, ADHD, and PTSD of some sort." Phil explained, hesitating towards the end

His PTSD can't be that bad, right? It wasn't on his chart. Phil thought, shaking his head clear of worry. "So, can I go meet him or.." She trailed off, looking between the stairs and her husband. "Yeah, go ahead. Be cautious of him, please." Phil smiled softly, watching his wife walk up the stairs and down the hall. "Tommy?" Emily asked, gently knocking on his door.

Tommyinnit's Third Person Point of View

When Tommy heard knocking on the door, he jumped. "Tommy?" A female voice spoke. "I- Y-yes?" Tommy stammered, jumping up and opening the door. "Hi! I'm Emilina, but you can call me Emily. I'm the boy's mother, and Phil's wife." The lady, Emily, introduced herself. "Tommy." He muttered, looking at Emily's hair. Her hair was dark red, otherwise ginger, and reached her waist. The ends of her hair were tinted with faded blonde dye.

Oh! That's Tommy's specialty. Art and colours. He's always loved it, it was a coping mechanism of his. Oh, and, whenever he was painting, he would zone out. Completely oblivious to the world around him. When Tommy zoned out, only yelling at him would snap him into his senses, and occasionally a panic attack.

"Y-your hair is pretty." The boy complimented quietly, looking at the ground. "Thank you, Tommy. Would you like to do my hair?" Emily asked hesitantly. She was honestly a bit scared that he would knot it, but it was a nice offer to make.

Tommy looked up from the ground and at Emily. Only then, could she see the way his dull grey eyes lightened a shade and glistened. "Really?" Tommy asks, hitting the heels of his hands together gently.

"Of course. Come with me, I'll bring you to our room." Emily smiled to herself. Shaken up? He looked terrified when he saw me.

The younger hesitantly followed Emily, slightly scared. What could go wrong? Following an older woman he just met into her bedroom where no one would see anything? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Here, you can sit on the edge of the bed. I'll grab the hair stuff." Emily smiled, walking over to the vanity in the corner of the room. The shorter simply nodded and sat at the edge of the bed, watching Emily cautiously.

"And.. There!" The ravenette/brunette exclaimed, walking back over to Tommy, who was sitting with his legs spread on the edge of the bed, and sitting in-between them carefully. Emily frowned slightly at the way the boy flinched and whimpered quietly when her back touched his thigh.

Tommy carefully took the brush from Emily's hand. "I'm going to brush your hair." Tommy warned softly, his motherly habits not yet broken.

Emily smiled at the carefulness and warning, although the reason he does it is beyond her.

As the blonde carefully and methodically brushed her hair, Emily could feel her eyes drooping as the pattern Tommy brushed her hair in became recognizable and calm. The tremor in Tommy's hands decreased, now having only a slight tremble.