—
"why's his face look like that?" wilbur asked, cocking his head down at the baby phil was holding, his expression scrunched—it wasn't scrunched in distaste, or disgust or anything, just simple confusion.
phil snapped his head to look down at his son, letting out an affronted noise even if he felt a wave of amusement corse through him. "wilbur!" he shouted, scandalized, a little bit of laughter in his tone even as he gently smacked the boy on his head.
wilbur whipped his head up at him as well. "what?! i'm just wondering what he's got on his face!"
"well," techno said, his voice as monotone as ever, even as he fiddled with the fingers on tommy's chubby hand, "there's ways you can be more eloquent about it, moron."
"shut up, you don't even know what that means!"
"i'm older than you."
"wha—by two minutes!"
"still counts."
phil rolled his eyes good naturely at his bickering boys, feeling warmth and amusement stretched his mouth into a smile, and he looked down at his new son—his tommy. they hadn't gotten a crib for him, yet, so he was just holding him in a bundle of blankets, but the boy didn't seem to mind; staring up at the three of them from where they sat on the couch, his blue eyes wide and innocent, little gurgles coming from his spit filled mouth, occasionally kicking his legs—he didn't seem to mind the fact that techno was holding his hand, instead staring directly at phil, who looked right back. there wasn't anything noticeable about tommy, from fist glance, just a normal blonde baby with blue eyes, the way all babies should look...but when you got a second glance..
...there's little stars, on the boys cheeks. stars that move in a way that regular freckles would, dipping over the bridge of his nose and crossing themselves in patterns underneath his eyes, but instead they glitter and blink like the stars in the sky would, shining a content yellow, reflecting off the blanket from where they travel down to his shoulders and even his arms, glittering and winking on him. at the second glance, it would seem like a bunch of stickers that are just placed on the boys skin, but phil's felt them before; they feel like normal freckles, or even a birthmark, but they're stars. they're stars that shine as bright as they do in the sky, and they don't seem to be causing the boy any form of discomfort, they don't seem to be hurting him, and they're glowing so bright.
it's peculiar.
phil snorts at himself. honestly, he shouldn't be so caught up in this; he has a piglin hybrid as a son.
but, there's something that's...calling to phil about the boy. something that tells him there's more to be explored—something that tells him there's a reason behind the stars that dance across his skin.
"...dad?" techno asks, and when phil looks down at him, he's staring up at him with wide and concerned eyes, his piglin ears pulled back against his head—he's worried. "is there something—are you okay..?"
his heart softens around the edges, and he ruffles techno's hair, careful to avoid the paper crown he's always been adamant on staying on his head. he'd made it himself, declared himself the king.
"i'm fine, techno," he says, "i'm just thinking."
techno stares up at him, underneath a mass of unruly pink hair that he'd ruffled, before his mouth slowly spreads into an unsteady smile. unsure.
it's silent, for awhile, until.
"..okay, seriously, what's wrong with his face?"
"wilbur—"













