Chapter Text
Phil doesn’t consider himself the best dad. He’s a single parent who really only has the evenings and weekends with his son. His workshifts are long and tiring, and he’d be lying if he wasn’t practically a zombie most evenings, yawning while he blearily cooks dinner for his thirteen year old son and asks him about school. Wilbur has been a little cagey about that lately and Phil isn’t too shocked when he gets a phone call from the school, though he’s still worried. The teacher says his son is struggling, not handing in homework and that he seems to not have any friends.
He doesn’t know if he should push or not, Wilbur has withdrawn even more when he’s nagged him over school in the past. He decides to wait on it, and just tries to be more encouraging with his son.
He notices the moving van in the car park outside when he comes home from his shift but he doesn’t ponder on it much, people come and go a fair bit in their block of flats. He does take notice when Wilbur pops out to the corner shop one day to buy snacks and the energy drinks he’s getting far too fond of for Phil’s liking, and returns with the expected plastic bag and a very unexpected younger visitor.
He opens his mouth in surprise at their rather striking appearance and Wilbur interrupts whatever he was about to say. “Dad this is Techno, he’s just moved in the hallway downstairs.” Wilbur looks at him through his rather unruly mop of hair and gestures to the boy. Phil had initially thought he might be a girl, he had a long plait of rather shocking dyed-pink hair and thick-rimmed glasses. He’s staring at the floor, knuckles pale as he grips the straps of his rucksack for dear life.
Phil smiles at the obviously shy kid, “Hi.. Techno,” it feels odd to say and he assumes it must be a nickname, “it’s nice to meet you. Are you staying for tea?” It’s been a while since they’ve had a guest and even longer since it was one of Wilbur’s friends.
Techno raises his head and Phil gets a better look at him; the boy is tall, he can’t place his age but he’s tall for it, though he hunches his shoulders to hide it. He has an almost elfen look, his ears sticking out from his hair a little and he has cute green eyes that seem almost too big for him. “Hi Mister, uhh..” he trails off, seeming tongue tied and Phil blinks in surprise at the American accent.
“Yeah he’s staying Dad, we’re going to my room okay?” Wilbur swings an arm over the boy’s shoulder and tugs him down the hall. Phil chuckles to himself, he’s happy to see his son so happy. He starts locating all the things he needs for dinner; potatoes, sausages, and a tin of baked beans.
Phil listens out as he peels the baking potatoes, a pan of water heating slowly to a simmer. He can hear laughter and good-natured arguing over… geography? He pops the potato down and sneaks closer, curiosity getting the better of him. His son’s door is half open and both boys are at Wil’s desk, his geography homework book open and Google images on the screen.
“It’s Cuba, you’ve gotten the Cuban and Puerto Rican flags mixed up,” Techno’s voice is deeper than the average child, a pleasant deep voice that makes something inside Phil perk up. He pushes it aside with a lick of concern and watches as Wilbur pouts in response.
“Hey, it’s not my fault the patterns are the same and the colours are basically just switched!” the teen types something into the search bar. “I’ll have you know I’m the best in my class, I just get bored and don’t do it.”
Well that explains some of the school concerns at least, Phil is oddly surprised the boys are doing homework when he knows Wilbur prefers to play video games before tea, but it’s not an unwelcome sight. He’s about to turn back to the kitchen when the younger boy speaks again.
“Well if you never do anything, can you really say you’re the best in class?” There's a slight note of a challenge there and Phil loves the tiny smile tugging at the boy’s lips.
Wilbur pauses and just looks at him before opening up Powerpoint, “piss off, I can do this, I’ll do the best fucking presentation on flags anyone’s made ever.” He starts clicking at his keyboard furiously, pasting in images of flags and opening up new tabs.
Phil leaves them to it, dashing over to the stove with an embarrassing squawk when he notices the water is about to bubble over. He turns the water back down to a simmer and slips in the peeled potatoes. While they boil he sorts the table out, it’s covered in the post. Sometimes Wilbur takes his dinner to his room and more often than not they eat in the living room while watching tv. He piles everything as neatly as he can on the 4th chair that’s never been used and sets out the placemats he hasn’t gotten from the cupboard in months.
He can’t hear the boys as he mashes the potatoes and blends them with milk and butter, seasoning with salt and pepper. He pops the lid back on the pan to keep the mash warm and starts on the sausages. He’s never been the greatest cook, but he’s pretty good at the basic comfort foods.
The sausages are hot and sizzling as he plates the food. He can’t hear the boys arguing any more when he strains his ears so after leaving the plates on the kitchen surface, he goes to call them for dinner.
He finds they’ve migrated from Wilbur’s desk to his bed, obviously to play video games. Techno is awkwardly still holding his controller, looking down at where the older boy has fallen asleep and he jumps when he notices Phil at the doorway. Phil presses a finger to his lips and beckons the boy over. He almost laughs at the exaggeratedly slow movements the child makes as he sets the controller down and slips off the bed.
“The lad fell asleep didn’t he?” Phil can’t stop the smile tugging at his lips, his son occasionally passes out like a light when he’s tired, he’d always been very stubborn about sleeping and it’s not uncommon to find him fast asleep on the sofa.
Techno nods and then Phil sees a rather adorable little smirk and the boy’s voice takes on a smug tone, “I guess he got bored of sucking so much.”
He can’t help himself, he bursts out laughing and has to cover his mouth to muffle it, Wilbur murmuring sleepily and rolling over in response. He manages to get the door closed, still wheezing just a little. “You hungry? I’ll just cover his in foil for when the lazybones wakes up later.”
The boy seems to get shy again and he nods, and he follows Phil into the kitchen. He sits on one of the free chairs and Phil brings a plate over and sets it down in front of him. He notices Techno has taken his jumper off and God the boy is skinny, almost worryingly so. Phil tries to shake the concerned thought and hands him a knife and fork.
Wilbur’s tea is wrapped in foil and left to the side. This certainly isn’t the first time he’s saved it for him, but he does sigh a little. Microwaved leftovers just don’t do freshly made sausages and mash justice. He sits down opposite the boy and notices he’s sitting there expectantly. “Dig in then, I promise it won’t bite!” he laughs and starts eating himself, pleased to see Techno look relieved before digging in.
“So you just moved in downstairs?” it’s not the best manners to speak around a mouthful and he’d scold Wil for it, but he’s hungry.
The boy swallows his mouthful and fiddles with his fork, “yeah, we moved in downstairs…” he trails off before he adds hastily, “I mean my mom and dad, mister.” He seems oddly nervous, biting the end of the fork and staring down at the table. Pink hair falls in his eyes and Phil has the sudden urge to brush it behind his ear.
He wonders if it’s alright to pry, “you sound a little down about that?” He scoops up potato onto his fork, “I remember once we moved when I was a kid and I felt sad because I had to leave all my friends behind.”
Techno raises his head and nods emphatically, “yeah I don’t even know why we had to move here, all my friends are back in America and like, I can't see them, maybe not ever again.” The kid’s voice gets louder and more passionate, his little brow furrowed angrily.
Phil feels his heart go out to the boy, moving across the country had felt big to him as a kid and Techno has literally moved across the ocean. “Aww mate, that’s rough. Do you have a computer, maybe you can send them emails?” He has some family abroad and remembers how much the international calls can cost.
Techno shoots him another worried look and starts nodding before he stops himself. “Well my dad has a computer but I’m only allowed to use it for school stuff.” The boy stabs a sausage with his fork and bites off a chunk almost feral, leaving a smear of sauce on his chin. He notices Phil staring and flushes, setting the fork down almost shamefully. “Sorry sir, that’s not good manners.”
Phil chuckles and copies him with one of his sausages, “don’t worry about it kid, we don’t care too much about elbows on the table and things here,” he swallows and cups his mouth, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I just ask you spit into a tissue, not back onto your plate.”
Techno giggles, “ew, no way would I do that!”
Phil doesn’t like that his eyes keep flicking to that little smear of sauce on his pale face. He wants to wipe it away with his thumb. “Are you starting secondary school soon then? I know new schools can feel like a big change.”
The boy blinks before he shakes his head, pink plaits whipping back and forth, “nah, I’m only ten, I’m going to the ele-the primary school, the…” he squints, obviously thinking, “the St Mary’s one?”
Phil is both surprised at the kid’s age, he’s really tall for it, not that far behind Wilbur who’s a beanpole himself. And he nods, “yeah I know the one, oof that’s a bit of a walk though,” it’s practically on the other side of town and honestly a little fancy. Wilbur went to the local primary down the road, he’d never worried about his boy walking there himself.
Techno shrugs a little before he seems to notice the clock on the wall and the boy starts. “Oh sir sorry I need to go- it’s late-”
Phil watches as the boy springs up and darts over to Wilbur’s room, dashing in to grab his jumper and bag. He pauses in the hallway, hair in his face and glasses askew from where he’s tugged the jumper hurriedly over his head. “Uh sorry for not finishing sir, thank you for dinner!”
Phil doesn’t get a chance to respond before the boy is rushing out the door, almost leaving it open before he backtracks and shamefully closes it. He laughs, waving a little from the table as the boy slowly closes the door, “bye Techno, it was nice to meet you.”
Techno flushes again, and Phil can’t help noting that he looks incredibly cute when he does that, and he nods with a shy whispered “bye”, and then the door is closed. Phil shakes his head in amusement, what a funny kid.