Techno finds Tommy in two seconds and drags him upstairs kicking and screaming, pulling him by his ear. He throws Tommy down in a chair at his kitchen table and holds out his hand.
“Gapples,” Techno demands - the missing stack was what tipped him off. But by the time the word leaves his mouth, Tommy is already emptying his pockets, putting the stolen gapples and potions out on the table, as well as things that Techno doesn’t recognize: diamond tools, chipped Netherite armor, and materials he’s clearly mined himself. Then he pulls out a few pieces of paper.
“Can I keep my pictures,” Tommy mutters, not looking Techno in the eye.
Techno narrows his eyes. He pushes the random stuff back across the table and watches Tommy tense. “I don’t care about this stuff,” he says, grabbing the gapples and potions that belong to him. “Unlike you, Tommy, I don’t make a habit of stealin’ other people’s shit.”
Tommy takes back his things, but there’s a certain wariness about his actions that gives Techno pause. He inspects Tommy more closely as his younger brother crosses his arms, looking petulantly out the window. He looks starved, his face nearly gaunt. He’s singed, like he’s stood too close to an explosion. When Techno found him in the basement (if you could call the sad little hole under his house a basement), he had looked panicked and terrified, like a cornered animal.
“You’re an idiot,” Techno says, turning away from him to put his things back in his chests, a begrudging sense of worry in his chest.
“Yes, you are. You could have just asked, y’know.”
“What? I can have the gapples?”
“No,” Techno snaps, turning and glaring. He sees Tommy’s wince - and he backs off. “No,” he says again, calmer this time, if not gentle. He turns back around, slamming the chest shut. “But you can stay here. If you want.”
He can feel Tommy’s surprise at his back, even though he doesn’t speak.
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